note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) young folks' treasury in volumes hamilton wright mabie, editor edward everett hale, associate editor volume ii: myths and legendary heroes hamilton wright mabie, editor new york the university society inc. publishers [illustration: jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it.] partial list of contributors, assistant editors and advisers hamilton wright mabie editor edward everett hale associate editor nicholas murray butler, president columbia university. william r. harper, late president chicago university. hon. theodore roosevelt, ex-president of the united states. hon. grover cleveland, late president of the united states. james cardinal gibbons, american roman catholic prelate. robert c. ogden, partner of john wanamaker. hon. george f. hoar, late senator from massachusetts. edward w. bok, editor "ladies' home journal." henry van dyke, author, poet, and professor of english literature, princeton university. lyman abbott, author, editor of "the outlook." charles g.d. roberts, writer of animal stories. jacob a. riis, author and journalist. edward everett hale, jr., english professor at union college. joel chandler harris, late author and creator of "uncle remus." george gary eggleston, novelist and journalist. ray stannard baker, author and journalist. william blaikie, author of "how to get strong and how to stay so." william davenport hulbert, writer of animal stories. joseph jacobs, folklore writer and editor of the "jewish encyclopedia." mrs. virginia terhune ("marion harland"), author of "common sense in the household," etc. margaret e. sangster, author of "the art of home-making," etc. sarah k. bolton, biographical writer. ellen velvin, writer of animal stories. rev. theodore wood, f.e.s., writer on natural history. w.j. baltzell, editor of "the musician." herbert t. wade, editor and writer on physics. john h. clifford, editor and writer. ernest ingersoll, naturalist and author. daniel e. wheeler, editor and writer. ida prentice whitcomb, author of "young people's story of music," "heroes of history," etc. mark hambourg, pianist and composer. mme. blanche marchesi, opera singer and teacher. contents introduction myths of greece and rome baucis and philemon adapted by c.e. smith pandora adapted by c.e. smith midas adapted by c.e. smith cadmus adapted by c.e. smith proserpina adapted by c.e. smith the story of atalanta adapted by anna klingensmith pyramus and thisbe adapted by alice zimmern orpheus adapted by alice zimmern myths of scandinavia baldur adapted from a. and e. keary's version thor's adventure among the jotuns adapted by julia goddard the apples of idun adapted by hamilton wright mabie the gifts of the dwarfs the punishment of loki adapted from a. and e. keary's version myths of india the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey adapted by m. frere harisarman why the fish laughed muchie lal adapted by m. frere how the rajah's son won the princess labam adapted by joseph jacobs myths of japan the jellyfish and the monkey adapted by yei theodora ozaki the old man and-the devils autumn and spring adapted by frank kinder the vision of tsunu adapted by frank kinder the star-lovers adapted by frank kinder myths of the slavs the two brothers adapted by alexander chodsko the twelve months adapted by alexander chodsko the sun; or, the three golden hairs of the old man vésèvde adapted by alexander chodsko a myth of america hiawatha adapted from h.r. schoolcraft's version heroes of greece and rome perseus adapted by mary macgregor odysseus adapted by jeanie lang the argonauts adapted by mary macgregor theseus adapted by mary macgregor hercules adapted by thomas cartwright the perilous voyage of Æneas adapted by alice zimmern how horatius held the bridge adapted by alfred j. church how cincinnatus saved rome adapted by alfred j. church heroes of great britain beowulf adapted by h.e. marshall how king arthur conquered rome adapted by e. edwardson sir galahad and the sacred cup adapted by mary macgregor the passing of arthur adapted by mary macgregor robin hood adapted by h.e. marshall guy of warwick adapted by h.e. marshall whittington and his cat adapted by ernest rhys tom hickathrift adapted by ernest rhys heroes of scandinavia the story of frithiof adapted by julia goddard havelok adapted by george w. cox and e.h. jones the vikings adapted by mary macgregor hero of germany siegfried adapted by mary macgregor hero of france roland adapted by h.e. marshall hero of spain the cid adapted by robert southey hero of switzerland william tell adapted by h.e. marshall hero of persia rustem adapted by alfred j. church illustrations jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it (frontispiece) out flew a bright, smiling fairy he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot orpheus and eurydice the punishment of loki the princess labam ... shines so that she lights up all the country hiawatha in his canoe so danae was comforted and went home with dictys orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens they leapt across the pool and came to him theseus looked up into her fair face sir galahad robin hood in an encounter the hero's shining sword pierced the heart of the monster william tell and his friends (many of the illustrations in this volume are reproduced by special permission of e.p. dutton & company, owners of american rights.) introduction with such a table of contents in front of this little foreword, i am quite sure that few will pause to consider my prosy effort. nor can i blame any readers who jump over my head, when they may sit beside kind old baucis, and drink out of her miraculous milk-pitcher, and hear noble philemon talk; or join hands with pandora and epimetheus in their play before the fatal box was opened; or, in fact, be in the company of even the most awe-inspiring of our heroes and heroines. for ages the various characters told about in the following pages have charmed, delighted, and inspired the people of the world. like fairy tales, these stories of gods, demigods, and wonderful men were the natural offspring of imaginative races, and from generation to generation they were repeated by father and mother to son and daughter. and if a brave man had done a big deed he was immediately celebrated in song and story, and quite as a matter of course, the deed grew with repetition of these. minstrels, gleemen, poets, and skalds (a scandinavian term for poets) took up these rich themes and elaborated them. thus, if a hero had killed a serpent, in time it became a fiery dragon, and if he won a great battle, the enthusiastic reciters of it had him do prodigious feats--feats beyond belief. but do not fancy from this that the heroes were every-day persons. indeed, they were quite extraordinary and deserved highest praise of their fellow-men. so, in ancient and medieval europe the wandering poet or minstrel went from place to place repeating his wondrous narratives, adding new verses to his tales, changing his episodes to suit locality or occasion, and always skilfully shaping his fascinating romances. in court and cottage he was listened to with breathless attention. he might be compared to a living novel circulating about the country, for in those days books were few or entirely unknown. oriental countries, too, had their professional story-spinners, while our american indians heard of the daring exploits of their heroes from the lips of old men steeped in tradition. my youngest reader can then appreciate how myths and legends were multiplied and their incidents magnified. we all know how almost unconsciously we color and change the stories we repeat, and naturally so did our gentle and gallant singers through the long-gone centuries of chivalry and simple faith. every reader can feel the deep significance underlying the myths we present--the poetry and imperishable beauty of the greek, the strange and powerful conceptions of the scandinavian mind, the oddity and fantasy of the japanese, slavs, and east indians, and finally the queer imaginings of our own american indians. who, for instance, could ever forget poor proserpina and the six pomegranate seeds, the death of beautiful baldur, the luminous princess labam, the stupid jellyfish and shrewd monkey, and the funny way in which hiawatha remade the earth after it had been destroyed by flood? then take our legendary heroes: was ever a better or braver company brought together--perseus, hercules, siegfried, roland, galahad, robin hood, and a dozen others? but stop, i am using too many question-marks. there is no need to query heroes known and admired the world over. as true latter-day story-tellers, both hawthorne and kingsley retold many of these myths and legends, and from their classic pages we have adapted a number of our tales, and made them somewhat simpler and shorter in form. by way of apology for this liberty (if some should so consider it), we humbly offer a paragraph from a preface to the "wonder book" written by its author: "a great freedom of treatment was necessary but it will be observed by every one who attempts to render these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace, that they are marvelously independent of all temporary modes and circumstances. they remain essentially the same, after changes that would affect the identity of almost anything else." now to those who have not jumped over my head, or to those who, having done so, may jump back to this foreword, i trust my few remarks will have given some additional interest in our myths and heroes of lands far and near. daniel edwin wheeler myths of many countries myths of greece and rome baucis and philemon adapted by c.e. smith one evening, in times long ago, old philemon and his wife baucis sat at their cottage door watching the sunset. they had eaten their supper and were enjoying a quiet talk about their garden, and their cow, and the fruit trees on which the pears and apples were beginning to ripen. but their talk was very much disturbed by rude shouts and laughter from the village children, and by the fierce barking of dogs. "i fear," said philemon, "that some poor traveler is asking for a bed in the village, and that these rough people have set the dogs on him." "well, i never," answered old baucis. "i do wish the neighbors would be kinder to poor wanderers; i feel that some terrible punishment will happen to this village if the people are so wicked as to make fun of those who are tired and hungry. as for you and me, so long as we have a crust of bread, let us always be willing to give half of it to any poor homeless stranger who may come along." "indeed, that we will," said philemon. these old folks, you must know, were very poor, and had to work hard for a living. they seldom had anything to eat except bread and milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a little honey from their beehives, or a few ripe pears and apples from their little garden. but they were two of the kindest old people in the world, and would have gone without their dinner any day, rather than refuse a slice of bread or a cupful of milk to the weary traveler who might stop at the door. their cottage stood on a little hill a short way from the village, which lay in a valley; such a pretty valley, shaped like a cup, with plenty of green fields and gardens, and fruit trees; it was a pleasure just to look at it. but the people who lived in this lovely place were selfish and hard-hearted; they had no pity for the poor, and were unkind to those who had no home, and they only laughed when philemon said it was right to be gentle to people who were sad and friendless. these wicked villagers taught their children to be as bad as themselves. they used to clap their hands and make fun of poor travelers who were tramping wearily from one village to another, and they even taught the dogs to snarl and bark at strangers if their clothes were shabby. so the village was known far and near as an unfriendly place, where neither help nor pity was to be found. what made it worse, too, was that when rich people came in their carriages, or riding on fine horses, with servants to attend to them, the village people would take off their hats and be very polite and attentive: and if the children were rude they got their ears boxed; as to the dogs--if a single dog dared to growl at a rich man he was beaten and then tied up without any supper. so now you can understand why old philemon spoke sadly when he heard the shouts of the children, and the barking of the dogs, at the far end of the village street. he and baucis sat shaking their heads while the noise came nearer and nearer, until they saw two travelers coming along the road on foot. a crowd of rude children were following them, shouting and throwing stones, and several dogs were snarling at the travelers' heels. they were both very plainly dressed, and looked as if they might not have enough money to pay for a night's lodging. "come, wife," said philemon, "let us go and meet these poor people and offer them shelter." "you go," said baucis, "while i make ready some supper," and she hastened indoors. philemon went down the road, and holding out his hand to the two men, he said, "welcome, strangers, welcome." "thank you," answered the younger of the two travelers. "yours is a kind welcome, very different from the one we got in the village; pray why do you live in such a bad place?" "i think," answered philemon, "that providence put me here just to make up as best i can for other people's unkindness." the traveler laughed heartily, and philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits. he took a good look at him and his companion. the younger man was very thin, and was dressed in an odd kind of way. though it was a summer evening, he wore a cloak which was wrapped tightly about him; and he had a cap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. there was something queer too about his shoes, but as it was getting dark, philemon could not see exactly what they were like. one thing struck philemon very much, the traveler was so wonderfully light and active that it seemed as if his feet were only kept close to the ground with difficulty. he had a staff in his hand which was the oddest-looking staff philemon had seen. it was made of wood and had a little pair of wings near the top. two snakes cut into the wood were twisted round the staff, and these were so well carved that philemon almost thought he could see them wriggling. the older man was very tall, and walked calmly along, taking no notice either of naughty children or yelping dogs. when they reached the cottage gate, philemon said, "we are very poor folk, but you are welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard. my wife baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper." they sat down on the bench, and the younger stranger let his staff fall as he threw himself down on the grass, and then a strange thing happened. the staff seemed to get up from the ground of its own accord, and it opened a little pair of wings and half-hopped, half-flew and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage. philemon was so amazed that he feared he had been dreaming, but before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger said: "was there not a lake long ago covering the spot where the village now stands?" "never in my day," said old philemon, "nor in my father's, nor my grandfather's: there were always fields and meadows just as there are now, and i suppose there always will be." "that i am not so sure of," replied the stranger. "since the people in that village have forgotten how to be loving and gentle, maybe it were better that the lake should be rippling over the cottages again," and he looked very sad and stern. he was a very important-looking man, philemon felt, even though his clothes were old and shabby; maybe he was some great learned stranger who did not care at all for money or clothes, and was wandering about the world seeking wisdom and knowledge. philemon was quite sure he was not a common person. but he talked so kindly to philemon, and the younger traveler made such funny remarks, that they were all constantly laughing. "pray, my young friend, what is your name?" philemon asked. "well," answered the younger man, "i am called mercury, because i am so quick." "what a strange name!" said philemon; "and your friend, what is he called?" "you must ask the thunder to tell you that," said mercury, "no other voice is loud enough." philemon was a little confused at this answer, but the stranger looked so kind and friendly that he began to tell them about his good old wife, and what fine butter and cheese she made, and how happy they were in their little garden; and how they loved each other very dearly and hoped they might live together till they died. and the stern stranger listened with a sweet smile on his face. baucis had now got supper ready; not very much of a supper, she told them. there was only half a brown loaf and a bit of cheese, a pitcher with some milk, a little honey, and a bunch of purple grapes. but she said, "had we only known you were coming, my goodman and i would have gone without anything in order to give you a better supper." "do not trouble," said the elder stranger kindly. "a hearty welcome is better than the finest of food, and we are so hungry that what you have to offer us seems a feast." then they all went into the cottage. and now i must tell you something that will make your eyes open. you remember that mercury's staff was leaning against the cottage wall? well, when its owner went in at the door, what should this wonderful staff do but spread its little wings and go hop-hop, flutter-flutter up the steps; then it went tap-tap across the kitchen floor and did not stop till it stood close behind mercury's chair. no one noticed this, as baucis and her husband were too busy attending to their guests. baucis filled up two bowls of milk from the pitcher, while her husband cut the loaf and the cheese. "what delightful milk, mother baucis," said mercury, "may i have some more? this has been such a hot day that i am very thirsty." "oh dear, i am so sorry and ashamed," answered baucis, "but the truth is there is hardly another drop of milk in the pitcher." "let me see," said mercury, starting up and catching hold of the handles, "why here is certainly more milk in the pitcher." he poured out a bowlful for himself and another for his companion. baucis could scarcely believe her eyes. "i suppose i must have made a mistake," she thought, "at any rate the pitcher must be empty now after filling both bowls twice over." "excuse me, my kind hostess," said mercury in a little while, "but your milk is so good that i should very much like another bowlful." now baucis was perfectly sure that the pitcher was empty, and in order to show mercury that there was not another drop in it, she held it upside down over his bowl. what was her surprise when a stream of fresh milk fell bubbling into the bowl and overflowed on to the table, and the two snakes that were twisted round mercury's staff stretched out their heads and began to lap it up. "and now, a slice of your brown loaf, pray mother baucis, and a little honey," asked mercury. baucis handed the loaf, and though it had been rather a hard and dry loaf when she and her husband ate some at tea-time, it was now as soft and new as if it had just come from the oven. as to the honey, it had become the color of new gold and had the scent of a thousand flowers, and the small grapes in the bunch had grown larger and richer, and each one seemed bursting with ripe juice. although baucis was a very simple old woman, she could not help thinking that there was something rather strange going on. she sat down beside philemon and told him in a whisper what she had seen. "did you ever hear anything so wonderful?" she asked. "no, i never did," answered philemon, with a smile. "i fear you have been in a dream, my dear old wife." he knew baucis could not say what was untrue, but he thought that she had not noticed how much milk there had really been in the pitcher at first. so when mercury once more asked for a little milk, philemon rose and lifted the pitcher himself. he peeped in and saw that there was not a drop in it; then all at once a little white fountain gushed up from the bottom, and the pitcher was soon filled to the brim with delicious milk. philemon was so amazed that he nearly let the jug fall. "who are ye, wonder-working strangers?" he cried. "your guests, good philemon, and your friends," answered the elder traveler, "and may the pitcher never be empty for kind baucis and yourself any more than for the hungry traveler." the old people did not like to ask any more questions; they gave the guests their own sleeping-room, and then they lay down on the hard floor in the kitchen. it was long before they fell asleep, not because they thought how hard their bed was, but because there was so much to whisper to each other about the wonderful strangers and what they had done. they all rose with the sun next morning. philemon begged the visitors to stay a little till baucis should milk the cow and bake some bread for breakfast. but the travelers seemed to be in a hurry and wished to start at once, and they asked baucis and philemon to go with them a short distance to show them the way. so they all four set out together, and mercury was so full of fun and laughter, and made them feel so happy and bright, that they would have been glad to keep him in their cottage every day and all day long. "ah me," said philemon, "if only our neighbors knew what a pleasure it was to be kind to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs and never allow the children to fling another stone." "it is a sin and shame for them to behave so," said baucis, "and i mean to go this very day and tell some of them how wicked they are." "i fear," said mercury, smiling, "that you will not find any of them at home." the old people looked at the elder traveler and his face had grown very grave and stern. "when men do not feel towards the poorest stranger as if he were a brother," he said, in a deep, grave voice, "they are not worthy to remain on the earth, which was made just to be the home for the whole family of the human race of men and women and children." "and, by the bye," said mercury, with a look of fun and mischief in his eyes, "where is this village you talk about? i do not see anything of it." philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where at sunset only the day before they had seen the trees and gardens, and the houses, and the streets with the children playing in them. but there was no longer any sign of the village. there was not even a valley. instead, they saw a broad lake which filled all the great basin from brim to brim, and whose waters glistened and sparkled in the morning sun. the village that had been there only yesterday was now gone! "alas! what has become of our poor neighbors?" cried the kind-hearted old people. "they are not men and women any longer," answered the elder traveler, in a deep voice like distant thunder. "there was no beauty and no use in lives such as theirs, for they had no love for one another, and no pity in their hearts for those who were poor and weary. therefore the lake that was here in the old, old days has flowed over them, and they will be men and women no more." "yes," said mercury, with his mischievous smile, "these foolish people have all been changed into fishes because they had cold blood which never warmed their hearts, just as the fishes have." "as for you, good philemon, and you, kind baucis," said the elder traveler, "you, indeed, gave a hearty welcome to the homeless strangers. you have done well, my dear old friends, and whatever wish you have most at heart will be granted." philemon and baucis looked at one another, and then i do not know which spoke, but it seemed as if the voice came from them both. "let us live together while we live, and let us die together, at the same time, for we have always loved one another." "be it so," said the elder stranger, and he held out his hands as if to bless them. the old couple bent their heads and fell on their knees to thank him, and when they lifted their eyes again, neither mercury nor his companion was to be seen. so philemon and baucis returned to the cottage, and to every traveler who passed that way they offered a drink of milk from the wonderful pitcher, and if the guest was a kind, gentle soul, he found the milk the sweetest and most refreshing he had ever tasted. but if a cross, bad-tempered fellow took even a sip, he found the pitcher full of sour milk, which made him twist his face with dislike and disappointment. baucis and philemon lived a great, great many years and grew very old. and one summer morning when their friends came to share their breakfast, neither baucis nor philemon was to be found! the guests looked everywhere, and all in vain. then suddenly one of them noticed two beautiful trees in the garden, just in front of the door. one was an oak tree and the other a linden tree, and their branches were twisted together so that they seemed to be embracing. no one had ever seen these trees before, and while they were all wondering how such fine trees could possibly have grown up in a single night, there came a gentle wind which set the branches moving, and then a mysterious voice was heard coming from the oak tree. "i am old philemon," it said; and again another voice whispered, "and i am baucis." and the people knew that the good old couple would live for a hundred years or more in the heart of these lovely trees. and oh, what a pleasant shade they flung around! some kind soul built a seat under the branches, and whenever a traveler sat down to rest he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves over his head, and he wondered why the sound should seem to say, "welcome, dear traveler, welcome." pandora adapted by c.e. smith long, long ago, when this old world was still very young, there lived a child named epimetheus. he had neither father nor mother, and to keep him company, a little girl, who was fatherless and motherless like himself, was sent from a far country to live with him and be his playfellow. this child's name was pandora. the first thing that pandora saw, when she came to the cottage where epimetheus lived, was a great wooden box. "what have you in that box, epimetheus?" she asked. "that is a secret," answered epimetheus, "and you must not ask any questions about it; the box was left here for safety, and i do not know what is in it." "but who gave it you?" asked pandora, "and where did it come from?" "that is a secret too," answered epimetheus. "how tiresome!" exclaimed pandora, pouting her lip. "i wish the great ugly box were out of the way;" and she looked very cross. "come along, and let us play games," said epimetheus; "do not let us think any more about it;" and they ran out to play with the other children, and for a while pandora forgot all about the box. but when she came back to the cottage, there it was in front of her, and instead of paying no heed to it, she began to say to herself: "whatever can be inside it? i wish i just knew who brought it! dear epimetheus, do tell me; i know i cannot be happy till you tell me all about it." then epimetheus grew a little angry. "how can i tell you, pandora?" he said, "i do not know any more than you do." "well, you could open it," said pandora, "and we could see for ourselves!" but epimetheus looked so shocked at the very idea of opening a box that had been given to him in trust, that pandora saw she had better not suggest such a thing again. "at least you can tell me how it came here," she said. "it was left at the door," answered epimetheus, "just before you came, by a queer person dressed in a very strange cloak; he had a cap that seemed to be partly made of feathers; it looked exactly as if he had wings." "what kind of a staff had he?" asked pandora. "oh, the most curious staff you ever saw," cried epimetheus: "it seemed like two serpents twisted round a stick." "i know him," said pandora thoughtfully. "it was mercury, and he brought me here as well as the box. i am sure he meant the box for me, and perhaps there are pretty clothes in it for us to wear, and toys for us both to play with." "it may be so," answered epimetheus, turning away; "but until mercury comes back and tells us that we may open it, neither of us has any right to lift the lid;" and he went out of the cottage. "what a stupid boy he is!" muttered pandora, "i do wish he had a little more spirit." then she stood gazing at the box. she had called it ugly a hundred times, but it was really a very handsome box, and would have been an ornament in any room. it was made of beautiful dark wood, so dark and so highly polished that pandora could see her face in it. the edges and the corners were wonderfully carved. on these were faces of lovely women, and of the prettiest children, who seemed to be playing among the leaves and flowers. but the most beautiful face of all was one which had a wreath of flowers about its brow. all around it was the dark, smooth-polished wood with this strange face looking out from it, and some days pandora thought it was laughing at her, while at other times it had a very grave look which made her rather afraid. the box was not fastened with a lock and key like most boxes, but with a strange knot of gold cord. there never was a knot so queerly tied; it seemed to have no end and no beginning, but was twisted so cunningly, with so many ins and outs, that not even the cleverest fingers could undo it. pandora began to examine the knot just to see how it was made. "i really believe," she said to herself, "that i begin to see how it is done. i am sure i could tie it up again after undoing it. there could be no harm in that; i need not open the box even if i undo the knot." and the longer she looked at it, the more she wanted just to try. so she took the gold cord in her fingers and examined it very closely. then she raised her head, and happening to glance at the flower-wreathed face, she thought it was grinning at her. "i wonder whether it is smiling because i am doing wrong," thought pandora, "i have a good mind to leave the box alone and run away." but just at that moment, as if by accident, she gave the knot a little shake, and the gold cord untwisted itself as if by magic, and there was the box without any fastening. "this is the strangest thing i have ever known," said pandora, rather frightened, "what will epimetheus say? how can i possibly tie it up again?" she tried once or twice, but the knot would not come right. it had untied itself so suddenly she could not remember in the least how the cord had been twisted together. so there was nothing to be done but to let the box remain unfastened until epimetheus should come home. "but," thought pandora; "when he finds the knot untied he will know that i have done it; how shall i ever make him believe that i have not looked into the box?" and then the naughty thought came into her head that, as epimetheus would believe that she had looked into the box, she might just as well have a little peep. she looked at the face with the wreath, and it seemed to smile at her invitingly, as much as to say: "do not be afraid, what harm can there possibly be in raising the lid for a moment?" and then she thought she heard voices inside, tiny voices that whispered: "let us out, dear pandora, do let us out; we want very much to play with you if you will only let us out?" "what can it be?" said pandora. "is there something alive in the box? yes, i must just see, only one little peep and the lid will be shut down as safely as ever. there cannot really be any harm in just one little peep." all this time epimetheus had been playing with the other children in the fields, but he did not feel happy. this was the first time he had played without pandora, and he was so cross and discontented that the other children could not think what was the matter with him. you see, up to this time everybody in the world had always been happy, no one had ever been ill, or naughty, or miserable; the world was new and beautiful, and the people who lived in it did not know what trouble meant. so epimetheus could not understand what was the matter with himself, and he stopped trying to play games and went back to pandora. on the way home he gathered a bunch of lovely roses, and lilies, and orange-blossoms, and with these he made a wreath to give pandora, who was very fond of flowers. he noticed there was a great black cloud in the sky, which was creeping nearer and nearer to the sun, and just as ejpimetheus reached the cottage door the cloud went right over the sun and made everything look dark and sad. epimetheus went in quietly, for he wanted to surprise pandora with the wreath of flowers. and what do you think he saw? the naughty little girl had put her hand on the lid of the box and was just going to open it. epimetheus saw this quite well, and if he had cried out at once it would have given pandora such a fright she would have let go the lid. but epimetheus was very naughty too. although he had said very little about the box, he was just as curious as pandora was to see what was inside: if they really found anything pretty or valuable in it, he meant to take half of it for himself; so that he was just as naughty, and nearly as much to blame as his companion. when pandora raised the lid, the cottage had grown very dark, for the black cloud now covered the sun entirely and a heavy peal of thunder was heard. but pandora was too busy and excited to notice this: she lifted the lid right up, and at once a swarm of creatures with wings flew out of the box, and a minute after she heard epimetheus crying loudly: "oh, i am stung, i am stung! you naughty pandora, why did you open this wicked box?" pandora let the lid fall with a crash and started up to find out what had happened to her playmate. the thunder-cloud had made the room so dark that she could scarcely see, but she heard a loud buzz-buzzing, as if a great many huge flies had flown in, and soon she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes darting about, with wings like bats and with terribly long stings in their tails. it was one of these that had stung epimetheus, and it was not long before pandora began to scream with pain and fear. an ugly little monster had settled on her forehead, and would have stung her badly had not epimetheus run forward and brushed it away. now i must tell you that these ugly creatures with stings, which had escaped from the box, were the whole family of earthly troubles. there were evil tempers, and a great many kinds of cares: and there were more than a hundred and fifty sorrows, and there were diseases in many painful shapes. in fact all the sorrows and worries that hurt people in the world to-day had been shut up in the magic-box, and given to epimetheus and pandora to keep safely, in order that the happy children in the world might never be troubled by them. if only these two had obeyed mercury and had left the box alone as he told them, all would have gone well. but you see what mischief they had done. the winged troubles flew out at the window and went all over the world: and they made people so unhappy that no one smiled for a great many days. it was very strange, too, that from this day flowers began to fade, and after a short time they died, whereas in the old times, before pandora opened the box, they had been always fresh and beautiful. meanwhile pandora and epimetheus remained in the cottage: they were very miserable and in great pain, which made them both exceedingly cross. epimetheus sat down sullenly in a corner with his back to pandora, while pandora flung herself on the floor and cried bitterly, resting her head on the lid of the fatal box. suddenly, she heard a gentle tap-tap inside. "what can that be?" said pandora, raising her head; and again came the tap, tap. it sounded like the knuckles of a tiny hand knocking lightly on the inside of the box. "who are you?" asked pandora. a sweet little voice came from inside: "only lift the lid and you will see." but pandora was afraid to lift the lid again. she looked across to epimetheus, but he was so cross that he took no notice. pandora sobbed: "no, no, i am afraid; there are so many troubles with stings flying about that we do not want any more?" "ah, but i am not one of these," the sweet voice said, "they are no relations of mine. come, come, dear pandora, i am sure you will let me out." the voice sounded so kind and cheery that it made pandora feel better even to listen to it. epimetheus too had heard the voice. he stopped crying. then he came forward, and said: "let me help you, pandora, as the lid is very heavy." so this time both the children opened the box, and out flew a bright, smiling little fairy, who brought light and sunshine with her. she flew to epimetheus and with her finger touched his brow where the trouble had stung him, and immediately the pain was gone. then she kissed pandora, and her hurt was better at once. [illustration: out flew a bright smiling little fairy.] "pray who are you, kind fairy?" pandora asked. "i am called hope," answered the sunshiny figure. "i was shut up in the box so that i might be ready to comfort people when the family of troubles got loose in the world." "what lovely wings you have! they are just like a rainbow. and will you stay with us," asked epimetheus, "for ever and ever?" "yes," said hope, "i shall stay with you as long as you live. sometimes you will not be able to see me, and you may think i am dead, but you will find that i come back again and again when you have given up expecting me, and you must always trust my promise that i will never really leave you." "yes, we do trust you," cried both children. and all the rest of their lives when the troubles came back and buzzed about their heads and left bitter stings of pain, pandora and epimetheus would remember whose fault it was that the troubles had ever come into the world at all, and they would then wait patiently till the fairy with the rainbow wings came back to heal and comfort them. midas adapted by c.e. smith once upon a time there lived a very rich king whose name was midas, and he had a little daughter whom he loved very dearly. this king was fonder of gold than of anything else in the whole world: or if he did love anything better, it was the one little daughter who played so merrily beside her father's footstool. but the more midas loved his daughter, the more he wished to be rich for her sake. he thought, foolish man, that the best thing he could do for his child was to leave her the biggest pile of yellow glittering gold that had ever been heaped together since the world began. so he gave all his thoughts and all his time to this purpose. when he worked in his garden, he used to wish that the roses had leaves made of gold, and once when his little daughter brought him a handful of yellow buttercups, he exclaimed, "now if these had only been real gold they would have been worth gathering." he very soon forgot how beautiful the flowers, and the grass, and the trees were, and at the time my story begins midas could scarcely bear to see or to touch anything that was not made of gold. every day he used to spend a great many hours in a dark, ugly room underground: it was here that he kept all his money, and whenever midas wanted to be very happy he would lock himself into this miserable room and would spend hours and hours pouring the glittering coins out of his money-bags. or he would count again and again the bars of gold which were kept in a big oak chest with a great iron lock in the lid, and sometimes he would carry a boxful of gold dust from the dark corner where it lay, and would look at the shining heap by the light that came from a tiny window. to his greedy eyes there never seemed to be half enough; he was quite discontented. "what a happy man i should be," he said one day, "if only the whole world could be made of gold, and if it all belonged to me!" just then a shadow fell across the golden pile, and when midas looked up he saw a young man with a cheery rosy face standing in the thin strip of sunshine that came through the little window. midas was certain that he had carefully locked the door before he opened his money-bags, so he knew that no one, unless he were more than a mortal, could get in beside him. the stranger seemed so friendly and pleasant that midas was not in the least afraid. "you are a rich man, friend midas," the visitor said. "i doubt if any other room in the whole world has as much gold in it as this." "may be," said midas in a discontented voice, "but i wish it were much more; and think how many years it has taken me to gather it all! if only i could live for a thousand years, then i might be really rich. "then you are not satisfied?" asked the stranger. midas shook his head. "what would satisfy you?" the stranger said. midas looked at his visitor for a minute, and then said, "i am tired of getting money with so much trouble. i should like everything i touch to be changed into gold." the stranger smiled, and his smile seemed to fill the room like a flood of sunshine. "are you quite sure, midas, that you would never be sorry if your wish were granted?" he asked. "quite sure," said midas: "i ask nothing more to make me perfectly happy." "be it as you wish, then," said the stranger: "from to-morrow at sunrise you will have your desire--everything you touch will be changed into gold." the figure of the stranger then grew brighter and brighter, so that midas had to close his eyes, and when he opened them again he saw only a yellow sunbeam in the room, and all around him glittered the precious gold which he had spent his life in gathering. how midas longed for the next day to come! he scarcely slept that night, and as soon as it was light he laid his hand on the chair beside his bed; then he nearly cried when he saw that nothing happened: the chair remained just as it was. "could the stranger have made a mistake," he wondered, "or had it been a dream?" he lay still, getting angrier and angrier each minute until at last the sun rose, and the first rays shone through his window and brightened the room. it seemed to midas that the bright yellow sunbeam was reflected very curiously from the covering of his bed, and he sat up and looked more closely. what was his delight when he saw that the bedcover on which his hands rested had become a woven cloth of the purest and brightest gold! he started up and caught hold of the bed-post--instantly it became a golden pillar. he pulled aside the window-curtain and the tassel grew heavy in his hand--it was a mass of gold! he took up a book from the table, and at his first touch it became a bundle of thin golden leaves, in which no reading could be seen. midas was delighted with his good fortune. he took his spectacles from his pocket and put them on, so that he might see more distinctly what he was about. but to his surprise he could not possibly see through them: the clear glasses had turned into gold, and, of course, though they were worth a great deal of money, they were of no more use as spectacles. midas thought this was rather troublesome, but he soon forgot all about it. he went downstairs, and how he laughed with pleasure when he noticed that the railing became a bar of shining gold as he rested his hand on it; even the rusty iron latch of the garden door turned yellow as soon as his fingers pressed it. how lovely the garden was! in the old days midas had been very fond of flowers, and had spent a great deal of money in getting rare trees and flowers with which to make his garden beautiful. red roses in full bloom scented the air: purple and white violets nestled under the rose-bushes, and birds were singing happily in the cherry-trees, which were covered with snow-white blossoms. but since midas had become so fond of gold he had lost all pleasure in his garden: this morning he did not even see how beautiful it was. he was thinking of nothing but the wonderful gift the stranger had brought him, and he was sure he could make the garden of far more value than it had ever been. so he went from bush to bush and touched the flowers. and the beautiful pink and red color faded from the roses: the violets became stiff, and then glittered among bunches of hard yellow leaves: and showers of snow-white blossoms no longer fell from the cherry-trees; the tiny petals were all changed into flakes of solid gold, which glittered so brightly in the sunbeams that midas could not bear to look at them. but he was quite satisfied with his morning's work, and went back to the palace for breakfast feeling very happy. just then he heard his little daughter crying bitterly, and she came running into the room sobbing as if her heart would break. "how now, little lady," he said, "pray what is the matter with you this morning?" "oh dear, oh dear, such a dreadful thing has happened!" answered the child. "i went to the garden to gather you some roses, and they are all spoiled; they have grown quite ugly, and stiff, and yellow, and they have no scent. what can be the matter?" and she cried bitterly. midas was ashamed to confess that he was to blame, so he said nothing, and they sat down at the table. the king was very hungry, and he poured out a cup of coffee and helped himself to some fish, but the instant his lips touched the coffee it became the color of gold, and the next moment it hardened into a solid lump. "oh dear me!" exclaimed the king, rather surprised. "what is the matter, father?" asked his little daughter. "nothing, child, nothing," he answered; "eat your bread and milk before it gets cold." then he looked at the nice little fish on his plate, and he gently touched its tail with his finger. to his horror it at once changed into gold. he took one of the delicious hot cakes, and he had scarcely broken it when the white flour changed into yellow crumbs which shone like grains of hard sea-sand. "i do not see how i am going to get any breakfast," he said to himself, and he looked with envy at his little daughter, who had dried her tears and was eating her bread and milk hungrily. "i wonder if it will be the same at dinner," he thought, "and if so, how am i going to live if all my food is to be turned into gold?" midas began to get very anxious and to think about many things he had never thought of before. here was the very richest breakfast that could be set before a king, and yet there was nothing that he could eat! the poorest workman sitting down to a crust of bread and a cup of water was better off than king midas, whose dainty food was worth its weight in gold. he began to doubt whether, after all, riches were the only good thing in the world, and he was so hungry that he gave a groan. his little daughter noticed that her father ate nothing, and at first she sat still looking at him and trying to find out what was the matter. then she got down from her chair, and running to her father, she threw her arms lovingly round his knees. midas bent down and kissed her. he felt that his little daughter's love was a thousand times more precious than all the gold he had gained since the stranger came to visit him. "my precious, precious little girl!" he said, but there was no answer. alas! what had he done? the moment that his lips had touched his child's forehead, a change took place. her sweet, rosy face, so full of love and happiness, hardened and became a glittering yellow color; her beautiful brown curls hung like wires of gold from the small head, and her soft, tender little figure grew stiff in his arms. midas had often said to people that his little daughter was worth her weight in gold, and it had become really true. now when it was too late, he felt how much more precious was the warm tender heart that loved him than all the gold that could be piled up between the earth and sky. he began to wring his hands and to wish that he was the poorest man in the wide world, if the loss of all his money might bring back the rosy color to his dear child's face. while he was in despair he suddenly saw a stranger standing near the door, the same visitor he had seen yesterday for the first time in his treasure-room, and who had granted his wish. "well, friend midas," he said, "pray how are you enjoying your new power?" midas shook his head. "i am very miserable," he said. "very miserable, are you?" exclaimed the stranger. "and how does that happen: have i not faithfully kept my promise; have you not everything that your heart desired?" "gold is not everything," answered midas, "and i have lost all that my heart really cared for." "ah!" said the stranger, "i see you have made some discoveries since yesterday. tell me truly, which of these things do you really think is most worth--a cup of clear cold water and a crust of bread, or the power of turning everything you touch into gold; your own little daughter, alive and loving, or that solid statue of a child which would be valued at thousands of dollars?" "o my child, my child!" sobbed midas, wringing his hands. "i would not have given one of her curls for the power of changing all the world into gold, and i would give all i possess for a cup of cold water and a crust of bread." "you are wiser than you were, king midas," said the stranger. "tell me, do you really wish to get rid of your fatal gift?" "yes," said midas, "it is hateful to me." "go then," said the stranger, "and plunge into the river that flows at the bottom of the garden: take also a pitcher of the same water, and sprinkle it over anything that you wish to change back again from gold to its former substance." king midas bowed low, and when he lifted his head the stranger was nowhere to be seen. you may easily believe that king midas lost no time in getting a big pitcher, then he ran towards the river. on reaching the water he jumped in without even waiting to take off his shoes. "how delightful!" he said, as he came out with his hair all dripping, "this is really a most refreshing bath, and surely it must have washed away the magic gift." then he dipped the pitcher into the water, and how glad he was to see that it became just a common earthen pitcher and not a golden one as it had been five minutes before! he was conscious, also of a change in himself: a cold, heavy weight seemed to have gone, and he felt light, and happy, and human once more. maybe his heart had been changing into gold too, though he could not see it, and now it had softened again and become gentle and kind. midas hurried back to the palace with the pitcher of water, and the first thing he did was to sprinkle it by handfuls all over the golden figure of his little daughter. you would have laughed to see how the rosy color came back to her cheeks, and how she began to sneeze and choke, and how surprised she was to find herself dripping wet and her father still throwing water over her. you see she did not know that she had been a little golden statue, for she could not remember anything from the moment when she ran to kiss her father. king midas then led his daughter into the garden, where he sprinkled all the rest of the water over the rose-bushes, and the grass, and the trees; and in a minute they were blooming as freshly as ever, and the air was laden with the scent of the flowers. there were two things left, which, as long as he lived, used to remind king midas of the stranger's fatal gift. one was that the sands at the bottom of the river always sparkled like grains of gold: and the other, that his little daughter's curls were no longer brown. they had a golden tinge which had not been there before that miserable day when he had received the fatal gift, and when his kiss had changed them into gold. cadmus adapted by c.e. smith cadmus, phoenix, and cilix, the three sons of king agenor, were playing near the seashore in their father's kingdom of phoenicia, and their little sister europa was beside them. they had wandered to some distance from the king's palace and were now in a green field, on one side of which lay the sea, sparkling brightly in the sunshine, and with little waves breaking on the shore. the three boys were very happy gathering flowers and making wreaths for their sister europa. the little girl was almost hidden under the flowers and leaves, and her rosy face peeped merrily out among them. she was really the prettiest flower of them all. while they were busy and happy, a beautiful butterfly came flying past, and the three boys, crying out that it was a flower with wings, set off to try to catch it. europa did not run after them. she was a little tired with playing all day long, so she sat still on the green grass and very soon she closed her eyes. for a time she listened to the sea, which sounded, she thought, just like a voice saying, "hush, hush," and telling her to go to sleep. but if she slept at all it was only for a minute. then she heard something tramping on the grass and, when she looked up, there was a snow-white bull quite close to her! where could he have come from? europa was very frightened, and she started up from among the tulips and lilies and cried out, "cadmus, brother cadmus, where are you? come and drive this bull away." but her brother was too far off to hear her, and europa was so frightened that her voice did not sound very loud; so there she stood with her blue eyes big with fear, and her pretty red mouth wide open, and her face as pale as the lilies that were lying on her golden hair. as the bull did not touch her she began to peep at him, and she saw that he was a very beautiful animal; she even fancied he looked quite a kind bull. he had soft, tender, brown eyes, and horns as smooth and white as ivory: and when he breathed you could feel the scent of rosebuds and clover blossoms in the air. the bull ran little races round europa and allowed her to stroke his forehead with her small hands, and to hang wreaths of flowers on his horns. he was just like a pet lamb, and very soon europa quite forgot how big and strong he really was and how frightened she had been. she pulled some grass and he ate it out of her hand and seemed quite pleased to be friends. he ran up and down the field as lightly as a bird hopping in a tree; his hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the grass, and once when he galloped a good long way europa was afraid she would not see him again, and she called out, "come back, you dear bull, i have got you a pink clover-blossom." then he came running and bowed his head before europa as if he knew she was a king's daughter, and knelt down at her feet, inviting her to get on his back and have a ride. at first europa was afraid: then she thought there could surely be no danger in having just one ride on the back of such a gentle animal, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go. what a surprise it would be to cadmus, and phoenix, and cilix if they met her riding across the green field, and what fun it would be if they could all four ride round and round the field on the back of this beautiful white bull that was so tame and kind! "i think i will do it," she said, and she looked round the field. cadmus and his brothers were still chasing the butterfly away at the far end. "if i got on the bull's back i should soon be beside them," she thought. so she moved nearer, and the gentle white creature looked so pleased, and so kind, she could not resist any longer, and with a light bound she sprang up on his back: and there she sat holding an ivory horn in each hand to keep her steady. "go very gently, good bull," she said, and the animal gave a little leap in the air and came down as lightly as a feather. then he began a race to that part of the field where the brothers were, and where they had just caught the splendid butterfly. europa shouted with delight, and how surprised the brothers were to see their sister mounted on the back of a white bull! they stood with their mouths wide open, not sure whether to be frightened or not. but the bull played round them as gently as a kitten, and europa looked down all rosy and laughing, and they were quite envious. then when he turned to take another gallop round the field, europa waved her hand and called out "good-by," as if she was off for a journey, and cadmus, phoenix, and cilix shouted "good-by" all in one breath. they all thought it such good fun. and then, what do you think happened? the white bull set off as quickly as before, and ran straight down to the seashore. he scampered across the sand, then he took a big leap and plunged right in among the waves. the white spray rose in a shower all over him and europa, and the poor child screamed with fright. the brothers ran as fast as they could to the edge of the water, but it was too late. the white bull swam very fast and was soon far away in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head and tail showing above the water. poor europa was holding on with one hand to the ivory horn and stretching the other back towards her dear brothers. and there stood cadmus and phoenix and cilix looking after her and crying bitterly, until they could no longer see the white head among the waves that sparkled in the sunshine. nothing more could be seen of the white bull, and nothing more of their beautiful sister. this was a sad tale for the three boys to carry back to their parents. king agenor loved his little girl europa more than his kingdom or anything else in the world, and when cadmus came home crying and told how a white bull had carried off his sister, the king was very angry and full of grief. "you shall never see my face again," he cried, "unless you bring back my little europa. begone, and enter my presence no more till you come leading her by the hand;" and his eyes flashed fire and he looked so terribly angry that the poor boys did not even wait for supper, but stole out of the palace wondering where they should go first. while they were standing at the gate, the queen came hurrying after them. "dear children," she said, "i will come with you." "oh no, mother," the boys answered, "it is a dark night, and there is no knowing what troubles we may meet with; the blame is ours, and we had better go alone." "alas!" said the poor queen, weeping, "europa is lost, and if i should lose my three sons as well, what would become of me? i must go with my children." the boys tried to persuade her to stay at home, but the queen cried so bitterly that they had to let her go with them. just as they were about to start, their playfellow theseus came running to join them. he loved europa very much, and longed to search for her too. so the five set off together: the queen, and cadmus, and phoenix, and cilix, and theseus, and the last they heard was king agenor's angry voice saying, "remember this, never may you come up these steps again, till you bring back my little daughter." the queen and her young companions traveled many a weary mile: the days grew to months, and the months became years, and still they found no trace of the lost princess. their clothes were worn and shabby, and the peasant people looked curiously at them when they asked, "have you seen a snow-white bull with a little princess on its back, riding as swiftly as the wind?" and the farmers would answer, "we have many bulls in our fields, but none that would allow a little princess to ride on its back: we have never seen such a sight." at last phoenix grew weary of the search. "i do not believe europa will ever be found, and i shall stay here," he said one day when they came to a pleasant spot. so the others helped him to build a small hut to live in, then they said good-by and went on without him. then cilix grew tired too. "it is so many years now since europa was carried away that she would not know me if i found her. i shall wait here," he said. so cadmus and theseus built a hut for him too, and then said good-by. after many long months theseus broke his ankle, and he too had to be left behind, and once more the queen and cadmus wandered on to continue the search. the poor queen was worn and sad, and she leaned very heavily on her son's arm. "cadmus," she said one day, "i must stay and rest." "why, yes, mother, of course you shall, a long, long rest you must have, and i will sit beside you and watch." but the queen knew she could go no further. "cadmus," she said, "you must leave me here, and, go to the wise woman at delphi and ask her what you must do next. promise me you will go!" and cadmus promised. the tired queen lay down to rest, and in the morning cadmus found that she was dead, and he must journey on alone. he wandered for many days till he came in sight of a high mountain which the people told him was called parnassus, and on the steep side of this mountain was the famous city of delphi for which he was looking. the wise woman lived far up the mountain-side, in a hut like those he had helped his brothers to build by the roadside. when he pushed aside the branches he found himself in a low cave, with a hole in the wall through which a strong wind was blowing. he bent down and put his mouth to the hole and said, "o sacred goddess, tell me where i must look now for my dear sister europa, who was carried off so long ago by a bull?" at first there was no answer. then a voice said softly, three times, "seek her no more, seek her no more, seek her no more." "what shall i do, then?" said cadmus. and the answer came, in a hoarse voice, "follow the cow, follow the cow, follow the cow." "but what cow," cried cadmus, "and where shall i follow?" and once more the voice came, "where the stray cow lies down, there is your home;" and then there was silence. "have i been dreaming?" cadmus thought, "or did i really hear a voice?" and he went away thinking he was very little wiser for having done as the queen had told him. i do not know how far he had gone when just before him he saw a brindled cow. she was lying down by the wayside, and as cadmus came along she got up and began to move slowly along the path, stopping now and then to crop a mouthful of grass. cadmus wondered if this could be the cow he was to follow, and he thought he would look at her more closely, so he walked a little faster; but so did the cow. "stop, cow," he cried, "hey brindle, stop," and he began to run; and much to his surprise so did the cow, and though he ran as hard as possible, he could not overtake her. so he gave it up. "i do believe this may be the cow i was told about," he thought. "any way, i may as well follow her and surely she will lie down somewhere." on and on they went. cadmus thought the cow would never stop, and other people who had heard the strange story began to follow too, and they were all very tired and very far away from home when at last the cow lay down. his companions were delighted and began to cut down wood to make a fire, and some ran to a stream to get water. cadmus lay down to rest close beside the cow. he was wishing that his mother and brothers and theseus had been with him now, when suddenly he was startled by cries and shouts and screams. he ran towards the stream, and there he saw the head of a big serpent or dragon, with fiery eyes and with wide open jaws which showed rows and rows of horrible sharp teeth. before cadmus could reach it, the monster had killed all his poor companions and was busy devouring them. the stream was an enchanted one, and the dragon had been told to guard it so that no mortal might ever touch the water, and the people round about knew this, so that for a hundred years none of them had ever come near the spot. the dragon had been asleep and was very hungry, and when he saw cadmus he opened his huge jaws again, ready to devour him too. but cadmus was very angry at the death of all his companions, and drawing his sword he rushed at the monster. with one big bound he leaped right into the dragon's mouth, so far down that the two rows of terrible teeth could not close on him or do him any harm. the dragon lashed with his tail furiously, but cadmus stabbed him again and again, and in a short time the great monster lay dead. "what shall i do now?" he said aloud. all his companions were dead, and he was alone once more. "cadmus," said a voice, "pluck out the dragon's teeth and plant them in the earth." cadmus looked round and there was nobody to be seen. but he set to work and cut out the huge teeth with his sword, and then he made little holes in the ground and planted the teeth. in a few minutes the earth was covered with rows of armed men, fierce-looking soldiers with swords and helmets who stood looking at cadmus in silence. "throw a stone among these men," came the voice again, and cadmus obeyed. at once all the men began to fight, and they cut and stabbed each other so furiously that in a short time only five remained alive out of all the hundreds that had stood before him. "cadmus," said the voice once more, "tell these men to stop fighting and help you to build a palace." and as soon as cadmus spoke, the five big men sheathed their swords, and they began to carry stones, and to carve these for cadmus, as if they had never thought of such a thing as fighting each other! they built a house for each of themselves, and there was a beautiful palace for cadmus made of marble, and of fine kinds of red and green stone, and there was a high tower with a flag floating from a tall gold flag-post. when everything was ready, cadmus went to take possession of his new house, and, as he entered the great hall, he saw a lady coming slowly towards him. she was very lovely and she wore a royal robe which shone like sunbeams, with a crown of stars on her golden hair, and round her neck was a string of the fairest pearls. cadmus was full of delight. could this be his long lost sister europa coming to make him happy after all these weary years of searching and wandering? how much he had to tell her about phoenix, and cilix, and dear theseus and of the poor queen's lonely grave in the wilderness! but as he went forward to meet the beautiful lady he saw she was a stranger. he was thinking what he should say to her, when once again he heard the unknown voice speak. "no, cadmus," it said, "this is not your dear sister whom you have sought so faithfully all over the wide world. this is harmonia, a daughter of the sky, who is given to you instead of sister and brother, and friend and mother. she is your queen, and will make happy the home which you have won by so much suffering." so king cadmus lived in the palace with his beautiful queen, and before many years passed there were rosy little children playing in the great hall, and on the marble steps of the palace, and running joyfully to meet king cadmus as he came home from looking after his soldiers and his workmen. and the five old soldiers that sprang from the dragon's teeth grew very fond of these little children, and they were never tired of showing them how to play with wooden swords and to blow on a penny trumpet, and beat a drum and march like soldiers to battle. proserpina adapted by c.e. smith mother ceres was very fond of her little daughter proserpina. she did not of ten let her go alone into the fields for fear she should be lost. but just at the time when my story begins she was very busy. she had to look after the wheat and the corn, and the apples and the pears, all over the world, and as the weather had been bad day after day she was afraid none of them would be ripe when harvest-time came. so this morning mother ceres put on her turban made of scarlet poppies and got into her car. this car was drawn by a pair of winged dragons which went very fast, and mother ceres was just ready to start, when proserpina said, "dear mother, i shall be very lonely while you are away, may i run down to the sands, and ask some of the sea-children to come out of the water to play with me?" "yes, child, you may," answered mother ceres, "but you must take care not to stray away from them, and you are not to play in the fields by yourself with no one to take care of you." proserpina promised to remember what her mother said, and by the time the dragons with their big wings had whirled the car out of sight she was already on the shore, calling to the sea-children to come to play with her. they knew proserpina's voice and came at once: pretty children with wavy sea-green hair and shining faces, and they sat down on the wet sand where the waves could still break over them, and began to make a necklace for proserpina of beautiful shells brought from their home at the bottom of the sea. proserpina was so delighted when they hung the necklace round her neck that she wanted to give them something in return. "will you come with me into the fields," she asked, "and i will gather flowers and make you each a wreath?" "oh no, dear proserpina," said the sea-children, "we may not go with you on the dry land. we must keep close beside the sea and let the waves wash over us every minute or two. if it were not for the salt water we should soon look like bunches of dried sea-weed instead of sea-children." "that is a great pity," said proserpina, "but if you wait for me here, i will run to the fields and be back again with my apron full of flowers before the waves have broken over you ten times. i long to make you some wreaths as beautiful as this necklace with all its colored shells." "we will wait, then," said the sea-children: "we will lie under the water and pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are coming." proserpina ran quickly to a field where only the day before she had seen a great many flowers; but the first she came to seemed rather faded, and forgetting what mother ceres had told her, she strayed a little farther into the fields. never before had she found such beautiful flowers! large sweet-scented violets, purple and white; deep pink roses; hyacinths with the biggest of blue bells; as well as many others she did not know. they seemed to grow up under her feet, and soon her apron was so full that the flowers were falling out of the corners. proserpina was just going to turn back to the sands to make the wreaths for the sea-children, when she cried out with delight. before her was a bush covered with the most wonderful flowers in the world. "what beauties!" said proserpina, and then she thought, "how strange! i looked at that spot only a moment ago; why did i not see the flowers?" they were such lovely ones too. more than a hundred different kinds grew on the one bush: the brightest, gayest flowers proserpina had ever seen. but there was a shiny look about them and about the leaves which she did not quite like. somehow it made her wonder if this was a poison plant, and to tell the truth she was half inclined to turn round and run away. "how silly i am!" she thought, taking courage: "it is really the most beautiful bush i ever saw. i will pull it up by the roots and carry it home to plant in mother's garden." holding her apron full of flowers with one hand, proserpina seized the large shrub with the other and pulled and pulled. what deep roots that bush had! she pulled again with all her might, and the earth round the roots began to stir and crack, so she gave another big pull, and then she let go. she thought there was a rumbling noise right below her feet, and she wondered if the roots went down to some dragon's cave. then she tried once again, and up came the bush so quickly that proserpina nearly fell backwards. there she stood, holding the stem in her hand and looking at the big hole which its roots had left in the earth. to her surprise this hole began to grow wider and wider, and deeper and deeper, and a rumbling noise came out of it. louder and louder it grew, nearer and nearer it came, just like the tramp of horses' feet and the rattling of wheels. proserpina was too frightened now to run away, and soon she saw a wonderful thing. two black horses, with smoke coming out of their nostrils and with long black tails and flowing black manes, came tearing their way out of the earth, and a splendid golden chariot was rattling at their heels. the horses leaped out of the hole, chariot and all, and came close to the spot where proserpina stood. then she saw there was a man in the chariot. he was very richly dressed, with a crown on his head all made of diamonds which sparkled like fire. he was a very handsome man, but looked rather cross and discontented, and he kept rubbing his eyes and covering them with his hand, as if he did not care much for the bright sunshine. as soon as he saw proserpina, the man waved to her to come a little nearer. "do not be afraid," he said. "come! would you not like to ride a little way with me in my beautiful chariot?" but proserpina was very frightened, and no wonder. the stranger did not look a very kind or pleasant man. his voice was so gruff and deep, and sounded just like the rumbling proserpina had heard underneath the earth. she at once began to cry out, "mother, mother! o mother ceres, come quickly and save me!" [illustration: he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot.] but her voice was very shaky and too faint for mother ceres to hear, for by this time she was many thousands of miles away making the corn grow in another country. no sooner did proserpina begin to cry out than the strange man leaped to the ground; he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot, then he shook the reins and shouted to the two black horses to set off. they began to gallop so fast that it was just like flying, and in less than a minute proserpina had lost sight of the sunny fields where she and her mother had always lived. she screamed and screamed and all the beautiful flowers fell out of her apron to the ground. but mother ceres was too far away to know what was happening to her little daughter. "why are you so frightened, my little girl?" said the strange man, and he tried to soften his rough voice. "i promise not to do you any harm. i see you have been gathering flowers? wait till we come to my palace and i will give you a garden full of prettier flowers than these, all made of diamonds and pearls and rubies. can you guess who i am? they call me pluto, and i am the king of the mines where all the diamonds and rubies and all the gold and silver are found: they all belong to me. do you see this lovely crown on my head? i will let you have it to play with. oh, i think we are going to be very good friends when we get out of this troublesome sunshine." "let me go home," sobbed proserpina, "let me go home." "my home is better than your mother's," said king pluto. "it is a palace made of gold, with crystal windows and with diamond lamps instead of sunshine; and there is a splendid throne; if you like you may sit on it and be my little queen, and i will sit on the footstool." "i do not care for golden palaces and thrones," sobbed proserpina. "o mother, mother! take me back to my mother." but king pluto only shouted to his horses to go faster. "you are very foolish, proserpina," he said, rather crossly. "i am doing all i can to make you happy, and i want very much to have a merry little girl to run upstairs and downstairs in my palace and make it brighter with her laughter. this is all i ask you to do for king pluto." "never" answered proserpina, looking very miserable. "i shall never laugh again, till you take me back to my mother's cottage." and the horses galloped on, and the wind whistled past the chariot, and proserpina cried and cried till her poor little voice was almost cried away, and nothing was left but a whisper. the road now began to get very dull and gloomy. on each side were black rocks and very thick trees and bushes that looked as if they never got any sunshine. it got darker and darker, as if night was coming, and still the black horses rushed on leaving the sunny home of mother ceres far behind. but the darker it grew, the happier king pluto seemed to be. proserpina began to peep at him, she thought he might not be such a wicked man after all. "is it much further," she asked, "and will you carry me back when i have seen your palace?" "we will talk of that by and by," answered pluto. "do you see these big gates? when we pass these we are at home; and look! there is my faithful dog at the door! cerberus; cerberus, come here, good dog." pluto pulled the horses' reins, and the chariot stopped between two big tall pillars. the dog got up and stood on his hind legs, so that he could put his paws on the chariot wheel. what a strange dog he was! a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three heads each fiercer than the other. king pluto patted his heads and the dog wagged his tail with delight. proserpina was much afraid when she saw that his tail was a live dragon, with fiery eyes and big poisonous teeth. "will the dog bite me?" she asked, creeping closer to king pluto. "how very ugly he is." "oh, never fear," pluto answered; "he never bites people unless they try to come in here when i do not want them. down, cerberus. now, proserpina, we will drive on." the black horses started again and king pluto seemed very happy to find himself once more at home. all along the road proserpina could see diamonds, and rubies and precious stones sparkling, and there were bits of real gold among the rocks. it was a very rich place. not far from the gateway they came to an iron bridge. pluto stopped the chariot and told proserpina to look at the river which ran underneath. it was very black and muddy, and flowed slowly, very slowly, as if it had quite forgotten which way it wanted to go, and was in no hurry to flow anywhere. "this is the river lethe," said king pluto; "do you not think it a very pleasant stream?" "i think it is very dismal," said proserpina. "well, i like it," answered pluto, who got rather cross when any one did not agree with him. "it is a strange kind of river. if you drink only a little sip of the water, you will at once forget all your care and sorrow. when we reach the palace, you shall have some in a golden cup, and then you will not cry any more for your mother, and will be perfectly happy with me." "oh no, oh no!" said proserpina, sobbing again. "o mother, mother, i will never forget you; i do not want to be happy by forgetting all about you." "we shall see," said king pluto; "you do not know what good times we will have in my palace. here we are, just at the gate. look at the big pillars; they are all made of solid gold." he got out of the chariot and carried proserpina in his arms up a long stair into the great hall of the palace. it was beautifully lit by hundreds of diamonds and rubies which shone like lamps. it was very rich and splendid to look at, but it was cold and lonely and pluto must have longed for some one to keep him company; perhaps that was why he had stolen proserpina from her sunny home. king pluto sent for his servants and told them to get ready a grand supper with all kinds of dainty food and sweet things such as children like. "and be sure not to forget a golden cup filled with the water of lethe," he said to the servant. "i will not eat anything," said proserpina, "nor drink a single drop, even if you keep me for ever in your palace." "i should be sorry for that," replied king pluto. he really wished to be kind if he had only known how. "wait till you see the nice things my cook will make for you, and then you will be hungry." now king pluto had a secret reason why he wanted proserpina to eat some food. you must understand that when people are carried off to the land of magic, if once they taste any food they can never go back to their friends. if king pluto had offered proserpina some bread and milk she would very likely have taken it as soon as she was hungry, but all the cook's fine pastries and sweets were things she had never seen at home, and, instead of making her hungry, she was afraid to touch them. but now my story must leave king pluto's palace, and we must see what mother ceres has been about. you remember she had gone off in her chariot with the winged dragons to the other side of the world to see how the corn and fruit were growing. and while she was busy in a field she thought she heard proserpina's voice calling her. she was sure her little daughter could not possibly be anywhere near, but the idea troubled her: and presently she left the fields before her work was half done and, ordering her dragons with the chariot, she drove off. in less than an hour mother ceres got down at the door of her cottage. it was empty! at first she thought "oh, proserpina will still be playing on the shore with the sea-children." so she went to find her. "where is proserpina, you naughty sea-children?" she asked; "tell me, have you taken her to your home under the sea?" "oh no, mother ceres," they said, "she left us early in the day to gather flowers for a wreath, and we have seen nothing of her since." ceres hurried off to ask all the neighbors. a poor fisherman had seen her little footprints in the sand as he went home with his basket of fish. a man in the fields had noticed her gathering flowers. several persons had heard the rattling of chariot wheels or the rumbling of distant thunder: and one old woman had heard a scream, but supposed it was only merriment, and had not even looked up. none of the neighbors knew where proserpina was, and mother ceres decided she must seek her daughter further from home. by this time it was night, so she lit a torch and set off, telling the neighbors she would never come back till proserpina was found. in her hurry she quite forgot her chariot with the dragons; may be she thought she could search better on foot. so she started on her sad journey, holding her torch in front of her, and looking carefully along every road and round every corner. she had not gone very far before she found one of the wonderful flowers which proserpina had pulled from the poison bush. "ha!" said mother ceres, examining it carefully, "there is mischief in this flower: it did not grow in the earth by any help of mine; it is the work of magic, and perhaps it has poisoned my poor child." and she hid it in her bosom. all night long ceres sought for her daughter. she knocked at the doors of farm-houses where the people were all asleep, and they came to see who was there, rubbing their eyes and yawning. they were very sorry for the poor mother when they heard her tale--but they knew nothing about proserpina. at every palace door, too, she knocked, so loudly that the servants ran quickly, expecting to find a great queen, and when they saw only a sad lonely woman with a burning torch in her hand, and a wreath of withered poppies on her head, they were angry and drove her rudely away. but nobody had seen proserpina, and mother ceres wandered about till the night was passed, without sitting down to rest, and without taking any food. she did not even remember to put out her torch, and it looked very pale and small in the bright morning sunshine. it must have been a magic torch, for it burned dimly all day, and then when night came it shone with a beautiful red light, and neither the wind nor the rain put it out through all these weary days while ceres sought for proserpina. it was not only men and women that mother ceres questioned about her daughter. in the woods and by the streams she met other creatures whose way of talking she could understand, and who knew many things that we have never learned. sometimes she tapped with her finger against an oak tree, and at once its rough bark would open and a beautiful maiden would appear: she was the spirit of the oak, living inside it, and as happy as could be when its green leaves danced in the breeze. then another time ceres would find a spring bubbling out of a little hole in the earth, and she would play with her fingers in the water. immediately up through the sandy bed a nymph with dripping hair would rise and float half out of the water, looking at mother ceres, and swaying up and down with the water bubbles. but when the mother asked whether her poor lost child had stopped to drink of the fountain, the nymph with weeping eyes would answer "no," in a murmuring voice which was just like the sound of a running stream. often, too, she met fauns. these were little people with brown faces who looked as if they had played a great deal in the sun. they had hairy ears and little horns on their brows, and their legs were like goats' legs on which they danced merrily about the woods and fields. they were very kind creatures, and were very sorry for mother ceres when they heard that her daughter was lost. and once she met a rude band of satyrs who had faces like monkeys and who had horses' tails behind; they were dancing and shouting in a rough, noisy manner, and they only laughed when ceres told them how unhappy she was. one day while she was crossing a lonely sheep-field she saw the god pan: he was sitting at the foot of a tall rock, making music on a shepherd's flute. he too had horns on his brow, and hairy ears, and goat's feet. he knew mother ceres and answered her questions kindly, and he gave her some milk and honey to drink out of a wooden bowl. but he knew nothing of proserpina. and so mother ceres went wandering about for nine long days and nights. now and then she found a withered flower, and these she picked up and put in her bosom, because she fancied they might have fallen from her daughter's hand. all day she went on through the hot sunshine, and at night the flame of her torch would gleam on the pathway, and she would continue her weary search without ever sitting down to rest. on the tenth day she came to the mouth of a cave. it was dark inside, but a torch was burning dimly and lit up half of the gloomy place. ceres peeped in and held up her own torch before her, and then she saw what looked like a woman, sitting on a heap of withered leaves, which the wind had blown into the cave. she was a very strange-looking woman: her head was shaped like a dog's, and round it she had a wreath of snakes. as soon as she saw her, mother ceres knew that this was a queer kind of person who was always grumbling and unhappy. her name was hecate, and she would never say a word to other people unless they were unhappy too. "i am sad enough," thought poor ceres, "to talk with hecate:" so she stepped into the cave and sat down on the withered leaves beside the dog-headed woman. "o hecate," she said, "if ever you lose a daughter you will know what sorrow is. tell me, for pity's sake, have you seen my poor child proserpina pass by the mouth of your cave?" "no, mother ceres," answered hecate. "i have seen nothing of your daughter. but my ears, you know, are made so that all cries of distress or fright all over the world are heard by them. and nine days ago, as i sat in my cave, i heard the voice of a young girl sobbing as if in great distress. as well as i could judge, some dragon was carrying her away." "you kill me by saying so," cried mother ceres, almost ready to faint; "where was the sound, and which way did it seem to go?" "it passed along very quickly," said hecate, "and there was a rumbling of wheels to the eastward. i cannot tell you any more. i advise you just to come and live here with me, and we will be the two most unhappy women in all the world." "not yet, dark hecate," replied ceres. "will you first come with your torch and help me to seek for my child. when there is no more hope of finding her, then i will come back with you to your dark cave. but till i know that proserpina is dead, i will not allow myself time to sorrow." hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the sunshine, but at last she agreed to go, and they set out together, each carrying a torch, although it was broad daylight and the sun was shining. any people they met ran away without waiting to be spoken to, as soon as they caught sight of hecate's wreath of snakes. as the sad pair wandered on, a thought struck ceres. "there is one person," she exclaimed, "who must have seen my child and can tell me what has become of her. why did i not think of him sooner? it is phoebus." "what!" said hecate, "the youth that always sits in the sunshine! oh! pray do not think of going near him: he is a gay young fellow that will only smile in your face. and, besides, there is such a glare of sunshine about him that he will quite blind my poor eyes, which are weak with so much weeping." "you have promised to be my companion," answered ceres. "come, let us make haste, or the sunshine will be gone and phoebus along with it." so they set off in search of phoebus, both sighing a great deal, and after a long journey they came to the sunniest spot in the whole world. there they saw a young man with curly golden hair which seemed to be made of sunbeams. his clothes were like light summer clouds, and the smile on his face was so bright that hecate held her hands before her eyes and muttered that she wished he would wear a veil! phoebus had a lyre in his hands and was playing very sweet music, at the same time singing a merry song. as ceres and her dismal companion came near, phoebus smiled on them so cheerfully that hecate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss and hecate wished she was back in her dark cave. but ceres was too unhappy to know whether phoebus smiled or looked angry. "phoebus" she said, "i am in great trouble and have come to you for help. can you tell me what has become of my little daughter proserpina?" "proserpina, proserpina did you call her?" answered phoebus, trying to remember. he had so many pleasant ideas in his head that he sometimes forgot what had happened no longer ago than yesterday. "ah yes! i remember now--a very lovely little girl. i am happy to tell you that i did see proserpina not many days ago. you may be quite easy about her. she is safe and in good hands." "oh, where is my dear child?" cried ceres, clasping her hands and flinging herself at his feet. "why," replied phoebus, "as the little girl was gathering flowers she was snatched up by king pluto and carried off to his kingdom. i have never been there myself, but i am told the royal palace is splendidly built. proserpina will have gold and silver and diamonds to play with, and i am sure even although there is no sunshine, she will have a very happy life." "hush! do not say such a thing," said ceres. "what has she got to love? what are all these splendors if she has no one to care for? i must have her back. good phoebus, will you come with me to demand my daughter from this wicked pluto?" "pray excuse me," answered phoebus, with a bow. "i certainly wish you success, and i am sorry i am too busy to go with you. besides, king pluto does not care much for me. to tell you the truth, his dog with the three heads would never let me pass the gateway. i always carry a handful of sunbeams with me, and those, you know, are not allowed within king pluto's kingdom." so the poor mother said good-by and hastened away along with hecate. ceres had now found out what had become of her daughter, but she was not any happier than before. indeed, her trouble seemed worse than ever. so long as proserpina was above-ground there was some hope of getting her home again. but now that the poor child was shut up behind king pluto's iron gates, with the three-headed cerberus on guard beside them, there seemed no hope of her escape. the dismal hecate, who always looked on the darkest side of things, told ceres she had better come back with her to the cave and spend the rest of her life in being miserable. but ceres answered that hecate could go back if she wished, but that for her part she would wander about all the world looking for the entrance to king pluto's kingdom. so hecate hurried off alone to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little children with her dog's face as she went. poor mother ceres! it is sad to think of her all alone, holding up her never-dying torch and wandering up and down the wide, wide world. so much did she suffer that in a very short time she began to look quite old. she wandered about with her hair hanging down her back, and she looked so wild that people took her for some poor mad woman, and never thought that this was mother ceres who took care of every seed which was sown in the ground and of all the fruit and flowers. now she gave herself no trouble about seedtime or harvest; there was nothing in which she seemed to feel any interest, except the children she saw at play or gathering flowers by the wayside. then, indeed, she would stand and look at them with tears in her eyes. and the children seemed to understand her sorrow and would gather in a little group about her knees and look up lovingly into her face, and ceres, after giving them a kiss all round, would lead them home and advise their mothers never to let them stray out of sight. "for if they do," said she, "it may happen to you as it has happened to me: the iron-hearted king pluto may take a liking to your darlings and carry them away in his golden chariot." at last, in her despair, ceres made up her mind that not a stalk of grain, nor a blade of grass, not a potato, nor a turnip, nor any vegetable that is good for man or beast, should be allowed to grow till her daughter was sent back. she was so unhappy that she even forbade the flowers to bloom. now you can see what a terrible misfortune had fallen on the earth. the farmer plowed the ground and planted his seed, as usual, and there lay the black earth without a single green blade to be seen. the fields looked as brown in the sunny months of spring as ever they did in winter. the rich man's garden and the flower-plot in front of the laborer's cottage were both empty; even the children's gardens showed nothing but withered stalks. it was very sad to see the poor starving sheep and cattle that followed behind ceres, bleating and lowing as if they knew that she could help them. all the people begged her at least to let the grass grow, but mother ceres was too miserable to care for any one's trouble. "never," she said. "if the earth is ever to be green again, it must grow along the path by which my daughter comes back to me." at last, as there seemed to be no other way out of it, mercury, the favorite messenger of the gods, was sent to king pluto in the hope that he would set everything right again by giving up proserpina. mercury went as quickly as he could to the great iron gates, and with the help of the wings on his shoes, he took a flying leap right over cerberus with his three heads, and very soon he stood at the door of king pluto's palace. the servants all knew him, as he had often been there in his short cloak, and cap, and shoes with the wings, and with his curious staff which had two snakes twisted round it. he asked to see the king immediately, and pluto, who had heard his voice from the top of the stairs, called out to him to come up at once, for he was always glad to listen to mercury's cheery talk. and while they are laughing together we must find out what proserpina had been doing since we last heard about her. you will remember that proserpina had said she would not taste food so long as she was kept a prisoner in king pluto's palace. it was now six months since she had been carried off from her home, and not a mouthful had she eaten, not even when the cook had made all kinds of sweet things and had ordered all the dainties which children usually like best. proserpina was naturally a bright, merry little girl, and all this time she was not so unhappy as you may have thought. in the big palace were a thousand rooms, and each was full of wonderful and beautiful things. it is true there was never any sunshine in these rooms, and proserpina used to fancy that the shadowy light which came from the jeweled lamps was alive: it seemed to float before her as she walked between the golden pillars, and to close softly behind her in the echo of her footsteps. and proserpina knew that all the glitter of these precious stones was not worth a single sunbeam, nor could the rubies and emeralds which she played with ever be as dear to her as the daisies and buttercups she had gathered among the soft green grass. king pluto felt how much happier his palace was since proserpina came, and so did all his servants. they loved to hear her childish voice laughing as she ran from room to room, and they felt less old and tired when they saw again how glad little children can be. "my own little proserpina," king pluto used to say, "i wish you would like me a little better. although i look rather a sad man, i am really fond of children, and if you would stay here with me always, it would make me happier than having hundreds of palaces like this." "ah," said proserpina, "you should have tried to make me like you first before carrying me off, and now the best thing you can do is to let me go again; then i might remember you sometimes and think that you were as kind as you knew how to be. perhaps i might come back to pay you a visit one day." "no, no," answered pluto, with his gloomy smile, "i will not trust you for that. you are too fond of living in the sunshine and gathering flowers. what an idle, childish thing to do! do you not think that these diamonds which i have had dug out of the mine for you are far prettier than violets?" "no, oh no! not half so pretty," said proserpina, snatching them from pluto's hand, and flinging them to the other end of the room. "o my sweet purple violets, shall i ever see you again?" and she began to cry bitterly. but like most children, she soon stopped crying, and in a short time she was running up and down the rooms as when she had played on the sands with the sea-children. and king pluto, sad and lonely, watched her and wished that he too was a child, and when proserpina turned and saw the great king standing alone in his splendid hall, so grand and so lonely, with no one to love him, she felt sorry for him. she ran back and for the first time in all those six months she put her small hand in his. "i love you a little," she whispered, looking up into his face. "do you really, dear child?" cried pluto, bending down his dark face to kiss her. but proserpina was a little afraid, he was so dark and severe-looking, and she shrank back. "well," said pluto, "it is just what i deserve after keeping you a prisoner all these months, and starving you besides. are you not dreadfully hungry, is there nothing i can get you to eat?" in asking this pluto was very cunning, as you will remember that if proserpina once tasted any food in his kingdom, she would never again be able to go home. "no, indeed," said proserpina. "your poor fat little cook is always making me all kinds of good things which i do not want. the one thing i should like to eat would be a slice of bread baked by my own mother, and a pear out of her garden." when pluto heard this he began to see that he had made a mistake in his way of trying to tempt proserpina to eat. he wondered why he had never thought of this before, and he at once sent a servant with a large basket to get some of the finest and juiciest pears in the whole world. but this was just at the time when, as we know, mother ceres in her despair had forbidden any flowers or fruit to grow on the earth, and the only thing king pluto's servant could find, after seeking all over the world was a single dried-up pomegranate, so dried up as to be hardly worth eating. still, since there was no better to be had, he brought it back to the palace, put it on a magnificent gold plate, and carried it to proserpina. now it just happened that as the servant was bringing the pomegranate in at the back door of the palace, mercury had gone up to the front steps with his message to king pluto about proserpina. as soon as proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden plate, she told the servant to take it away again. "i shall not touch it, i can assure you," she said. "if i were ever so hungry, i should not think of eating such a dried-up miserable pomegranate as that." "it is the only one in the world," said the servant, and he set down the plate and went away. when he had gone, proserpina could not help coming close to the table and looking at the dried-up pomegranate with eagerness. to tell the truth, when she saw something that really suited her taste, she felt all her six months' hunger come back at once. to be sure it was a very poor-looking pomegranate, with no more juice in it than in an oyster-shell. but there was no choice of such things in king pluto's palace, and this was the first fresh fruit proserpina had ever seen there, and the last she was ever likely to see, and unless she ate it up at once, it would only get drier and drier and be quite unfit to eat. "at least i may smell it," she thought, so she took up the pomegranate and held it to her nose, and somehow, being quite near to her mouth, the fruit found its way into that little red cave. before proserpina knew what she was about, her teeth had actually bitten it of their own accord. just as this fatal deed was done, the door of the hall opened and king pluto came in, followed by mercury, who had been begging him to let his little prisoner go. at the first noise of their coming, proserpina took the pomegranate from her mouth. mercury, who saw things very quickly, noticed that proserpina looked a little uncomfortable, and when he saw the gold plate empty, he was sure she had been eating something. as for king pluto, he never guessed the secret. "my dear little proserpina," said the king, sitting down and drawing her gently between his knees, "here is mercury, who tells me that a great many sad things have happened to innocent people because i have kept you a prisoner down here. and to confess the truth i have been thinking myself that i really had no right to take you away from your mother. it was very stupid of me, but i thought this palace was so dull, and that i should be much happier if i just had a merry little girl to play in it, and i hoped you would take my crown for a toy and let me be your playmate. it was very foolish of me, i know." "no, it was not foolish," said proserpina, "you have been very kind to me, and i have often been quite happy here with you." "thank you, dear," said king pluto, "but i cannot help seeing that you think my palace a dark prison and me the hard-hearted jailor, and i should, indeed, be hard-hearted if i were to keep you longer than six months. so i give you your liberty. go back, dear, with mercury, to your mother." now, although you might not think so, proserpina found it impossible to say good-by to king pluto without being sorry, and she felt she ought to tell him about tasting the pomegranate. she even cried a little when she thought how lonely and dull the great palace with its jeweled lamps would be after she had left. she would like to have thanked him many times, but mercury hurried her away. "come along quickly," he said, "as king pluto may change his mind, and take care above all things that you say nothing about the pomegranate which the servant brought you on the gold plate." in a short time they had passed the great gateway with the golden pillars, leaving cerberus barking and growling with all his three heads at once, and beating his dragon tail on the ground. along the dark, rocky road they went very quickly, and soon they reached the upper world again. you can guess how excited and happy proserpina was to see the bright sunshine. she noticed how green the grass grew on the path behind and on each side of her. wherever she set her foot at once there rose a flower: violets and roses bloomed along the wayside; the grass and the corn began to grow with ten times their usual quickness to make up for the dreary months when mother ceres had forbidden them to appear above ground. the hungry cattle began to eat, and went on eating all day after their long fast. and, i can assure you, it was a busy time with all the farmers when they found that summer was coming with a rush. as to the birds, they hopped about from tree to tree among the fresh, sweet blossoms, and sang for joy that the dreary days were over and the world was green and young again. mother ceres had gone back to her empty cottage, and was sitting very sadly on the doorstep with her burning torch in her hand. she had been looking wearily at the flame for some moments, when all at once it flickered and went out. "what does this mean?" she thought. "it was a magic torch, and should have gone on burning till proserpina was found." she looked up, and was surprised to see the bare brown fields suddenly turning green, just as you sometimes see them turn golden when the sun comes from behind a dark cloud. "does the earth dare to disobey me?" exclaimed mother ceres angrily. "did i not forbid it to be green until my child should be sent back to me?" "then open your arms, mother dear," cried a well-known voice, "and take me back again." and proserpina came running along the pathway and flung herself on her mother's bosom. it would be impossible to tell how happy they were; so happy that they cried a little, for people cry when they are very glad as well as when they are unhappy. after a little while mother ceres looked anxiously at proserpina. "my child," she said, "did you taste any food while you were in king pluto's palace?" "dearest mother," answered proserpina, "i will tell you the whole truth. until this morning not a morsel of food had passed my lips. but a servant brought me a pomegranate on a golden-plate, a very dry pomegranate, with no juice inside, nothing but seeds and skin; and i was so hungry, and had not tasted any food for such a long time, that i took just one bite. the moment i tasted it king pluto and mercury came into the room. i had not swallowed a morsel, but o mother! i hope it was no harm, six pomegranate seeds remained in my mouth and i swallowed them." "o miserable me!" said mother ceres. "for each of these six pomegranate seeds you must spend a month every year in king pluto's palace. you are only half restored to me; you will be six months with me and then six months with the king of darkness!" "do not be so vexed, mother dear," said proserpina. "it was very unkind of king pluto to carry me off, but then, as he says, it was such a dismal life for him to lead in that great palace all alone: and he says he has been much happier since he had me to run about the big rooms and to play beside him. if only he will let me spend six months every year with you, i think i can bear to spend the other six months beside him. after all, he was as kind as he knew how to be, but i am very glad he cannot keep me the whole year round." the story of atalanta adapted by anna klingensmith atalanta was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions, "i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her ravishing beauty as she prepared for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of anyone that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. pyramus and thisbe adapted by alice zimmern in babylon, the great and wonderful city on the euphrates, there lived in two adjoining houses a youth and a maiden named pyramus and thisbe. hardly a day passed without their meeting, and at last they came to know and love one another. but when pyramus sought thisbe in marriage, the parents would not hear of it, and even forbade the lovers to meet or speak to each other any more. but though they could no longer be openly together, they saw each other at a distance and sent messages by signs and tokens. one day to their great delight they discovered a tiny crack in the wall between the two houses, through which they could hear each other speak. but a few words whispered through a chink in the wall could not satisfy two ardent lovers, and they tried to arrange a meeting. they would slip away one night unnoticed and meet somewhere outside the city. a spot near the tomb of ninus was chosen, where a mulberry tree grew near a pleasant spring of water. at nightfall thisbe put on a thick veil, slipped out of the house unobserved and made her way in haste to the city gates. she was first at the trysting-place and sat down under the tree to wait for her lover. a strange noise made her look up, and she saw by the clear moonlight a lioness with bloody jaws coming to drink at the spring. thisbe sprang up, and dropping her cloak in her haste ran to hide herself in a neighboring cave. the lioness, who had already eaten, did not care to pursue her, but finding the cloak lying on the ground, pulled it to bits and left the marks of blood on the torn mantle. now pyramus in his turn came to the place and found no thisbe, but only her torn and bloodstained cloak. "surely," he thought, "some beast must have devoured her, for here lies her cloak, all mangled and bloodstained. alas, that i came too late! her love for me led thisbe to brave the perils of night and danger, and i was not here to protect and save her. she dies a victim to her love, but she shall not perish alone. one same night will see the end of both lovers. come, ye lions, and devour me too, 'tis my one prayer. yet 'tis a coward's part to pray for death when his own hands can give it." with these words he drew thisbe's cloak towards him, and covered it with kisses. "my blood too shall stain you," he cried, and plunged his sword with true aim in his breast. the blood spouted forth as from a fountain and stained the white fruit of the mulberry overhead. while pyramus lay dying under the tree, thisbe had recovered from her fright, and now stole forth from her hiding-place, hoping that her lover might be at hand. what was her dismay when she saw pyramus stretched lifeless on the ground. kneeling down beside him, she washed his wound with her tears, and kissed his cold lips, calling on him in vain to speak. "speak to me, pyramus," she cried, "'tis your beloved thisbe that calls." at the sound of her voice pyramus opened his failing eyes, and gave his love one last look, then he closed them for ever. when thisbe saw her own cloak and the empty sheath, she guessed that, thinking her dead, he had sought death himself. "'twas by your own hand you fell," she cried, "a victim to love, and love will give my hand strength to do the like. since those who were parted in life are united in death, perhaps our sorrowing parents will grant us the boon of a common tomb. may we rest side by side, even as we have fallen, and may this tree, which has witnessed our despair and our death, bear the traces for evermore. let its fruit be clothed in mourning garb for the death of two hapless lovers." with these words she threw herself on the sword of pyramus. her last prayer was granted, for one urn held the ashes of the faithful pair. and since that night the mulberry tree bears purple fruit to recall to all generations of lovers the cruel fate of pyramus and thisbe. orpheus adapted by alice zimmern orpheus, the thracian singer, was the most famous of all the musicians of greece. apollo himself had given him his golden harp, and on it he played music of such wondrous power and beauty that rocks, trees and beasts would follow to hear him. jason had persuaded orpheus to accompany the argonauts when they went to fetch back the golden fleece, for he knew that the perils of the way would be lightened by song. to the sound of his lyre the argo had floated down to the sea, and he played so sweetly when they passed the rocks of the sirens that the dreadful monsters sang their most alluring strains in vain. orpheus wedded the fair nymph eurydice, whom he loved dearly, and who returned his love. but at their marriage the omens were not favorable. hymen, the marriage god, came to it with a gloomy countenance and the wedding torches smoked and would not give forth a cheerful flame. indeed the happiness of orpheus and eurydice was to be but short-lived. for as the new-made bride wandered through the woods with the other nymphs a poisonous serpent stung her heel, and no remedy availed to save her. orpheus was thrown into most passionate grief at his wife's death. he could not believe that he had lost her for ever, but prayed day and night without ceasing to the gods above to restore her to him. when they would not listen, he resolved to make one last effort to win her back. he would go down to the lower world and seek her among the dead, and try whether any prayer or persuasion could move pluto to restore his beloved. near tænarum, in laconia, was a cave among dark and gloomy rocks, through which led one of the entrances to the lower world. this was the road by which hercules descended when he went to carry off cerberus, the three-headed dog that guards the threshold of pluto. undaunted by the terrors of the place, orpheus passed through this gate and down a dark and dismal road to the kingdom of the dead. here he came in safety through the crowd of ghosts and phantoms, and stood at last before the throne of pluto and proserpina. then he touched the chords of his lyre and chanted these words: "great lords of the world below the earth, to which all we mortals must one day come, grant me to tell a simple tale and declare unto you the truth. not to look upon the blackness of tartarus have i come hither, nor yet to bind in chains the snaky heads on cerberus. it is my wife i seek. a viper's sting has robbed her of the years that were her due. i should have borne my loss, indeed i tried to bear it, but i was overcome by love, a god well known in the world above, and i think not without honor in your kingdom, unless the story of proserpina's theft be a lying tale. i beseech you, by the realms of the dead, by mighty chaos and the silence of your vast kingdom, revoke the untimely doom of eurydice. all our lives are forfeit to you. 'tis but a short delay, and late or soon we all hasten towards one goal. hither all our footsteps tend. this is our last home, yours is the sole enduring rule over mankind. she too, when she shall have lived her allotted term of years, will surely come under your sway. till then, i implore you, let her be mine. but if the fates refuse a husband's prayers, i am resolved never to return hence. my death shall give you a double boon." [illustration: orpheus and eurydice.] thus he prayed and touched his harp in tune with his words. all around him the lifeless ghosts came flocking, and as they heard they wept. tantalus forgot his hunger and thirst. ixion's wheel stood still, the danaids set aside their leaky urns and sisyphus sat on his stone to listen. never yet had such sweet strains been heard in the world of gloom. then, for the first time, tears moistened the cheeks of the furies, and even the king and queen of the dead were moved to pity. they summoned eurydice, and she came, yet halting from her recent wound. "take her," says pluto, "and lead her back to the light. but she must follow you at a distance, nor must you once turn round to look upon her till you have passed beyond these realms. else the boon we grant you will be but vain." a steep path led upward from the realm of darkness, and the way was hard to find through the gloom. in silence orpheus led on, till the goal was close at hand and the welcoming light of the upper air began to penetrate the darkness. then a sudden fear struck his heart. had eurydice really followed his steps, or had she turned back, and was all his toil in vain? tom with anxiety and longing, he turned to gaze on his beloved. dimly he saw her, but for the last time, for a power she could not resist drew her back. orpheus stretched out his arms and tried to seize her, but he only clasped the empty air. "farewell, a last farewell," she murmured, and vanished from his sight. in vain orpheus tried to follow her, in vain he besought charon to carry him a second time across the waters of acheron. seven days he sat on the further bank without food or drink, nourished by his tears and grief. then at last he knew that the gods below were pitiless; and full of sorrow he returned to the upper earth. for three years he wandered among the mountains of thrace, finding his only consolation in the music of his lyre, for he shunned all men and women and would have no bride after eurydice. one day he sat down to rest on a grassy hill in the sunshine, and played and sang to beguile his sorrow. as he played, the coolness of shady branches seemed all about him, and looking up he found himself in the midst of a wood. oak, poplar, lime, beech, laurel, ash, pine, plane and maple and many another tree had gathered together here, drawn from their distant forest homes by the sounds of orpheus's lyre. yes, and the beasts and the birds of the field came too, and orpheus sat in their midst and sang and played the tunes of sorrow. suddenly a great noise was heard of laughter and shouting and merry-making. for this was one of the feasts of bacchus, and the women were celebrating his rites, wandering over the mountains with dance and revel. when they saw orpheus they set up a shout of derision. "see," they cried, "the wretched singer who mocks at women and will have no bride but the dead. come, let us kill him, and show that no man shall despise us unpunished." with these words they began to throw wands and stones at him, but even the lifeless objects were softened by the music, and fell harmlessly to the ground. then the women raised a wild shout and made such a clamor with trumpets and cymbals, that the soft tones of the harp were drowned by the noise. now at last the shots took effect, and in their fury the women fell upon him, dealing blow on blow. orpheus fell lifeless to the ground. but he was not to die unwept. the little birds of the forest mourned for him, even the stony rocks wept, the trees shed their leaves with grief, and the dryads and naiads tore their hair and put on the garb of sorrow. only the pitiless revelers knew no remorse. they seized the singer's head and threw it with his lyre into the river hebrus. there it floated down stream and, strange to tell, the chords gave forth a lament, and the lifeless tongue uttered words. "eurydice, eurydice," it cried, till head and lyre were carried down to the sea, and on to lesbos, the isle of sweet song, where in after years alcaeus and sappho tuned afresh the lyre of orpheus. but the shade of the dead singer went down to hades, and found entrance at last. thus orpheus and eurydice were re-united, and won in death the bliss that was denied them in life. myths of scandinavia baldur adapted from a, and e. keary's version i the dream upon a summer's afternoon it happened that baldur the bright and bold, beloved of men and the gods, found himself alone in his palace of broadblink. thor was walking among the valleys, his brow heavy with summer heat; frey and gerda sported on still waters in their cloud-leaf ship; odin, for once, slept on the top of air throne; a noon-day stillness pervaded the whole earth; and baldur in broadblink, most sunlit of palaces, dreamed a dream. the dream of baldur was troubled. he knew not whence nor why; but when he awoke he found that a new and weighty care was within him. it was so heavy that baldur could scarcely carry it, and yet he pressed it closely to his heart and said, "lie there, and do not fall on any one but me." then he rose up and walked out from the splendor of his hall, that he might seek his own mother, frigga, and tell her what had happened. he found her in her crystal saloon, calm and kind, and ready to sympathize; so he walked up to her, his hands pressed closely on his heart, and lay down at her feet sighing. "what is the matter, dear baldur?" asked frigga, gently. "i do not know, mother," answered he. "i do not know what the matter is; but i have a shadow in my heart." "take it out, then, my son, and let me look at it," replied frigga. "but i fear, mother, that if i do it will cover the whole earth." then frigga laid her hand upon the heart of her son that she might feel the shadow's shape. her brow became clouded as she felt it; her parted lips grew pale, and she cried out, "oh! baldur, my beloved son! the shadow is the shadow of death!" then said baldur, "i will die bravely, my mother." but frigga answered, "you shall not die at all; for i will not sleep to-night until everything on earth has sworn to me that it will neither kill nor harm you." so frigga stood up, and called to her everything on earth that had power to hurt or slay. first she called all metals to her; and heavy iron-ore came lumbering up the hill into the crystal hall, brass and gold, copper, silver, lead, and steel, and stood before the queen, who lifted her right hand high in the air, saying, "swear to me that you will not injure baldur"; and they all swore, and went. then she called to her all stones; and huge granite came with crumbling sandstone, and white lime, and the round, smooth stones of the seashore, and frigga raised her arm, saying, "swear that you will not injure baldur"; and they swore, and went. then frigga called to her the trees; and wide-spreading oak trees, with tall ash and sombre firs, came rushing up the hill, and frigga raised her hand, and said, "swear that you will not hurt baldur"; and they said, "we swear," and went. after this frigga called to her the diseases, who came blown by poisonous winds on wings of pain to the sound of moaning. frigga said to them, "swear"; and they sighed, "we swear," then flew away. then frigga called to her all beasts, birds, and venomous snakes, who came to her and swore, and disappeared. then she stretched out her hand to baldur, while a smile spread over her face, saying, "now, my son, you cannot die." just then odin came in, and when he had heard from frigga the whole story, he looked even more mournful than she had done; neither did the cloud pass from his face when he was told of the oaths that had been taken. "why do you look so grave, my lord?" demanded frigga at last. "baldur cannot die now." but odin asked very gravely, "is the shadow gone out of our son's heart, or is it still there?" "it cannot be there," said frigga, turning away her head resolutely, and folding her hands before her. but odin looked at baldur, and saw how it was. the hands pressed to the heavy heart, the beautiful brow grown dim. then immediately he arose, saddled sleipnir, his eight-footed steed, mounted him, and, turning to frigga, said, "i know of a dead prophetess, frigga, who, when she was alive, could tell what was going to happen; her grave lies on the east side of helheim, and i am going there to awake her, and ask whether any terrible grief is really coming upon us." so saying odin shook the bridle in his hand, and the eight-footed, with a bound, leaped forth, rushed like a whirlwind down the mountain of asgard, and then dashed into a narrow defile between rocks. sleipnir went on through the defile a long way, until he came to a place where the earth opened her mouth. there odin rode in and down a broad, steep, slanting road which led him to the cavern gnipa, and the mouth of the cavern gnipa yawned upon niflheim. then thought odin to himself, "my journey is already done." but just as sleipnir was about to leap through the jaws of the pit, garm, the voracious dog who was chained to the rock, sprang forward, and tried to fasten himself upon odin. three times odin shook him off, and still garm, as fierce as ever, went on with the fight. at last sleipnir leaped, and odin thrust just at the same moment; then horse and rider cleared the entrance, and turned eastward towards the dead prophetess's grave, dripping blood along the road as they went; while the beaten garm stood baying in the cavern's mouth. when odin came to the grave he got off his horse, and stood with his face northward, looking through barred enclosures into the city of helheim itself. the servants of hela were very busy there making preparations for some new guest--hanging gilded couches with curtains of anguish and splendid misery upon the walls. then odin's heart died within him, and he began to repeat mournful runes in a low tone. the dead prophetess turned heavily in her grave at the sound of his voice, and sat bolt upright. "what man is this," she asked, "who dares disturb my sleep?" then odin, for the first time in his life, said what was not true; the shadow of baldur dead fell upon his lips, and he made answer, "my name is vegtam, the son of valtam." "and what do you want of me?" asked the prophetess. "i want to know," replied odin, "for whom hela is making ready that gilded couch in helheim?" "that is for baldur the beloved," answered the prophetess. "now go away and let me sleep again, for my eyes are heavy." but odin said, "only one word more. is baldur going to helheim?" "yes, i've told you that he is," was the answer. "will he never come back to asgard again?" "if everything on earth should weep for him," said she, "he will go back; if not, he will remain in helheim." then odin covered his face with his hands and looked into darkness. "do go away," said the prophetess, "i'm so sleepy; i cannot keep my eyes open any longer." but odin raised his head and said again, "only tell me one thing. just now, as i looked into darkness, it seemed to me that i saw one on earth who would not weep for baldur. who was it?" at this she grew very angry and said, "how couldst _thou_ see in darkness? i know of only one who, by giving away his eye, gained light. no vegtam art thou but odin, chief of men." at her angry words odin became angry, too, and called out as loudly as he could, "no prophetess nor wise woman, but rather the mother of three giants." "go, go!" answered the prophetess, falling back in her grave; "no man shall waken me again until loki have burst his chains and the twilight of the gods be come." after this odin mounted the eight-footed once more and rode thoughtfully home. ii the peacestead when odin came back to asgard, hermod took the bridle from his father's hand and told him that the rest of the gods were gone to the peacestead--a broad, green plain which lay just outside the city. this was the playground of the gods, where they practised trials of skill and held tournaments and sham fights. these last were always conducted in the gentlest and most honorable manner; for the strongest law of the peacestead was, that no angry blow should be struck, or spiteful word spoken, upon the sacred field; and for this reason some have thought it might be well if children also had a peacestead to play in. odin was too tired from his journey to go to the peacestead that afternoon; so he turned away and shut himself up in his palace of gladsheim. but when he was gone, loki came into the city by another way, and hearing from hermod where the gods were, set off to join them. when he got to the peacestead, loki found that the gods were standing round in a circle shooting at something, and he peeped between the shoulders of two of them to find out what it was. to his surprise he saw baldur standing in the midst, erect and calm, whilst his friends and brothers were aiming their weapons at him. some hewed at him with their swords,--others threw stones at him--some shot arrows pointed with steel, and thor continually swung his great hammer at his head. "well," said loki to himself, "if this is the sport of asgard, what must that of jötunheim be? i wonder what father odin and mother frigga would say if they were here?" but as loki still looked, he became even more surprised, for the sport went on, and baldur was not hurt. arrows aimed at his very heart glanced back again untinged with blood. the stones fell down from his broad, bright brow, and left no bruises there. swords clave, but did not wound him; thor's hammer struck him, and he was not crushed. at this loki grew perfectly furious with envy and hatred. "and why is baldur to be so honored," said he "that even steel and stone shall not hurt him?" then loki changed himself into a little, dark, bent old woman, with a stick, and hobbled away from the peacestead to frigga's crystal saloon. at the door he knocked with the stick. "come in!" said the kind voice of frigga, and loki lifted the latch. now when frigga saw, from the other end of the hall, a little, bent, crippled old woman come hobbling up her crystal floor, she got up with true queenliness and met her halfway, holding out her hand and saying in the kindest manner, "pray sit down, my poor old friend; for it seems to me that you have come from a great distance." "that i have, indeed," answered loki in a tremulous, squeaking voice. "and did you happen to see anything of the gods," asked frigga, "as you came?" "just now i passed by the peacestead and saw them at play." "what were they doing?" "shooting at baldur." then frigga bent over her work with a pleased smile on her face. "and nothing hurt him?" "nothing," answered loki, looking keenly at her. "no, no thing," murmured frigga, still looking down and speaking half musingly to herself; "for all things have sworn to me that they will not." "sworn!" exclaimed loki, eagerly; "what is that you say? has everything sworn then?" "everything," answered she, "excepting the little shrub mistletoe, which grows, you know, on the west side of valhalla, and to which i said nothing, because i thought it was too young to swear." "excellent!" thought loki, and then he got up. "you're not going yet, are you?" said frigga, stretching out her hand and looking up at last into the eyes of the old woman. "i'm quite rested now, thank you," answered loki in his squeaky voice, and then he hobbled out at the door, which clapped after him, and sent a cold gust into the room. frigga shuddered, and thought that a serpent was gliding down the back of her neck. when loki had left the presence of frigga, he changed himself back to his proper shape and went straight to the west side of valhalla, where the mistletoe grew. then he opened his knife and cut off a large bunch, saying these words, "too young for frigga's oaths, but not too weak for loki's work." after which he set off for the peacestead once more, the mistletoe in his hand. when he got there he found that the gods were still at their sport, standing round, taking aim, and talking eagerly, and baldur did not seem tired. but there was one who stood alone, leaning against a tree, and who took no part in what was going on. this was hödur, baldur's blind twin-brother; he stood with his head bent downwards, silent while the others were speaking, doing nothing when they were most eager; and loki thought that there was a discontented expression on his face, just as if he were saying to himself, "nobody takes any notice of me." so loki went up to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. "and why are you standing here all alone, my brave friend?" said he. "why don't _you_ throw something at baldur? hew at him with a sword, or show him some attention of that sort." "i haven't a sword," answered hödur, with an impatient gesture; "and you know as well as i do, loki, that father odin does not approve of my wearing warlike weapons, or joining in sham fights, because i am blind." "oh! is that it?" said loki. well, i only know _i_ shouldn't like to be left out of everything. however, i've got a twig of mistletoe here which i'll lend you if you like; a harmless little twig enough, but i shall be happy to guide your arm if you would like to throw it, and baldur might take it as a compliment from his twin-brother." "let me feel it," said hödur, stretching out his groping hands. "this way, this way, my dear friend," said loki, giving him the twig. "now, as hard as ever you can, to do _him honor_; throw!" hödur threw--baldur fell, and the shadow of death covered the whole earth. iii baldur dead one after another they turned and left the peacestead, the friends and brothers of the slain. one after another they turned and went towards the city; crushed hearts, heavy footsteps, no word amongst them, a shadow upon all. the shadow was in asgard, too--had walked through frigga's hall and seated itself upon the threshold of gladsheim. odin had just come out to look at it, and frigga stood by in mute despair as the gods came up. "loki did it! loki did it!" they said at last in confused, hoarse whispers, and they looked from one to another,--upon odin, upon frigga, upon the shadow which they saw before them, and which they felt within. "loki did it! loki, loki!" they went on saying; but it was of no use to repeat the name of loki over and over again when there was another name they were too sad to utter but which filled all their hearts--baldur. frigga said it first, and then they all went to look at him lying down so peacefully on the grass--dead, dead. "carry him to the funeral pyre!" said odin, at length; and four of the gods stooped down and lifted their dead brother. noiselessly they carried the body tenderly to the seashore and laid it upon the deck of the majestic ship, ringhorn, which had been _his_. then they stood waiting to see who would come to the funeral. odin came, and on his shoulders sat his two ravens, whose croaking drew clouds down over the asa's face, for thought and memory sang the same sad song that day. frigga came,--frey, gerda, freyja, thor, hoenir, bragi, and idun. heimdall came sweeping over the tops of the mountains on golden mane, his swift, bright steed. Ægir the old groaned from under the deep, and sent his daughters up to mourn around the dead. frost-giants and mountain-giants came crowding round the rimy shores of jötunheim to look across the sea upon the funeral of an asa. nanna came, baldur's fair young wife; but when she saw the dead body of her husband, her own heart broke with grief, and the gods laid her beside him on the stately ship. after this odin stepped forward and placed a ring on the breast of his son, whispering something at the same time in his ear; but when he and the rest of the gods tried to push ringhorn into the sea before setting fire to it, they found their hearts too heavy to do it. so they beckoned to the giantess hyrrokin to come over from jötunheim and help them. she, with a single push, set the ship floating, and then, whilst thor stood up holding his hammer high in the air, odin lighted the funeral pile of baldur and of nanna. so ringhorn went floating towards the deep sea and the funeral fire burnt on. its broad red flame burst forth heavenward, but when the smoke would have gone upward too, the winds came sobbing and carried it away. iv helheim when at last the ship ringhorn had floated out so far to sea that it looked like a dull red lamp on the horizon, frigga turned round and said, "will any one of you, my children, perform a noble action and win my love forever?" "i will," cried hermod, before any one else had time to open his lips. "go, then, hermod," answered frigga, "saddle sleipnir with all speed and ride down to helheim; there seek out hela, the stern mistress of the dead, and entreat her to send our beloved back to us again." hermod was gone in the twinkling of an eye, not in at the mouth of the earth and through the steep cavern down which odin went to the dead prophetess's grave; he chose another way, though not a better one; for, go to helheim as you will, the best is but a downward road, and so hermod found it--downward, slanting, slippery, dark, and very cold. at last he came to the giallar bru--that sounding river which flows between the living and the dead, and to the bridge over it which is paved with stones of glittering gold. hermod was surprised to see gold in such a place; but as he rode over the bridge, and looked down carefully at the stones, he saw that they were only tears which had been shed round the beds of the dying--only tears, and yet they made the way seem brighter. but when hermod reached the other end of the bridge, he found the courageous woman who, for ages and ages, had been sitting there to watch the dead go by, and she stopped him saying: "what a noise you make! who are you? yesterday five troops of dead men went over the giallar bridge and did not shake it so much as you have done. besides," she added, looking more closely at hermod, "you are not a dead man at all. your lips are neither cold nor blue. why, then, do you ride on the way to helheim?" "i seek baldur," answered hermod. "tell me, have you seen him pass?" "baldur," she said, "has ridden over the bridge; but there below, towards the north, lies the way to the abodes of death." so hermod went on the way until he came to the barred gates of helheim itself. there he alighted, tightened his saddle-girths, remounted, clapped both spurs to his horse, and cleared the gate by one tremendous leap. then hermod found himself in a place where no living man had ever been before--the city of the dead. perhaps you think there is a great silence there, but you are mistaken. hermod thought he had never in his life heard so much noise; for the echoes of all words were speaking together--words, some newly uttered and some ages old; but the dead men did not hear who flitted up and down the dark streets, for their ears had been stunned and become cold long since. hermod rode on through the city until he came to the palace of hela, which stood in the midst. precipice was its threshold, the entrance-hall, wide storm, and yet hermod was not too much afraid to seek the innermost rooms; so he went on to the banqueting hall, where hela sat at the head of her table serving her new guests. baldur, alas! sat at her right hand, and on her left his pale young wife. when hela saw hermod coming up the hall she smiled grimly, but beckoned to him at the same time to sit down, and told him that he might sup that night with her. it was a strange supper for a living man to sit down to. hunger was the table; starvation, hela's knife; delay, her man; slowness, her maid; and burning thirst, her wine. after supper hela led the way to the sleeping apartments. "you see," she said, turning to hermod, "i am very anxious about the comfort of my guests. here are beds of unrest provided for all, hung with curtains of weariness, and look how all the walls are furnished with despair." so saying she strode away, leaving hermod and baldur together. the whole night they sat on those unquiet couches and talked. hermod could speak of nothing but the past, and as he looked anxiously round the room his eyes became dim with tears. but baldur seemed to see a light far off, and he spoke of what was to come. the next morning hermod went to hela, and entreated her to let baldur return to asgard. he even offered to take his place in helheim if she pleased; but hela only laughed at this and said: "you talk a great deal about baldur, and boast how much every one loves him; i will prove now if what you have told me be true. let everything on earth, living or dead, weep for baldur, and he shall go home again; but if _one_ thing only refuse to weep, then let helheim hold its own; he shall _not_ go." "every one will weep willingly," said hermod, as he mounted sleipnir and rode towards the entrance of the city. baldur went with him as far as the gate and began to send messages to all his friends in asgard, but hermod would not listen to many of them. "you will soon come back to us," he said, "there is no use in sending messages." so hermod darted homewards, and baldur watched him through the bars of helheim's gateway as he flew along. "not soon, not soon," said the dead asa; but still he saw the light far off, and thought of what was to come. v weeping "well, hermod, what did she say?" asked the gods from the top of the hill as they saw him coming; "make haste and tell us what she said." and hermod came up. "oh! is that all?" they cried, as soon as he had delivered his message. "nothing can be more easy," and then they all hurried off to tell frigga. she was weeping already, and in five minutes there was not a tearless eye in asgard. "but this is not enough," said odin; "the whole earth must know of our grief that it may weep with us." then the father of the gods called to him his messenger maidens--the beautiful valkyries--and sent them out into all worlds with these three words on their lips, "baldur is dead!" but the words were so dreadful that at first the messenger maidens could only whisper them in low tones as they went along, "baldur is dead!" the dull, sad sounds flowed back on asgard like a new river of grief, and it seemed to the gods as if they now wept for the first time--"baldur is dead!" "what is that the valkyries are saying?" asked the men and women in all the country round, and when they heard rightly, men left their labor and lay down to weep--women dropped the buckets they were carrying to the well, and, leaning their faces over them, filled them with tears. the children crowded upon the doorsteps, or sat down at the corners of the streets, crying as if their own mothers were dead. the valkyries passed on. "baldur is dead!" they said to the empty fields; and straightway the grass and the wild field-flowers shed tears. "baldur is dead!" said the messenger maidens to the rocks and stones; and the very stones began to weep. "baldur is dead!" the valkyries cried; and even the old mammoth's bones which had lain for centuries under the hills, burst into tears, so that small rivers gushed forth from every mountain's side. "baldur is dead!" said the messenger maidens as they swept over silent sands; and all the shells wept pearls. "baldur is dead!" they cried to the sea, and to jötunheim across the sea; and when the giants understood it, even they wept, while the sea rained spray to heaven. after this the valkyries stepped from one stone to another until they reached a rock that stood alone in the middle of the sea; then, all together, they bent forward over the edge of it, stooped down and peeped over, that they might tell the monsters of the deep. "baldur is dead!" they said, and the sea monsters and the fish wept. then the messenger maidens looked at one another and said, "surely our work is done." so they twined their arms round one another's waists, and set forth on the downward road to helheim, there to claim baldur from among the dead. after he had sent forth his messenger maidens, odin had seated himself on the top of air throne that he might see how the earth received his message. at first he watched the valkyries as they stepped forth north and south, and east and west; but soon the whole earth's steaming tears rose up like a great cloud and hid everything from him. then he looked down through the cloud and said, "are you all weeping?" the valkyries heard the sound of his voice as they went all together down the slippery road, and they turned round, stretching out their arms towards air throne, their long hair falling back, while, with choked voices and streaming eyes, they answered, "the world weeps, father odin; the world and we." after this they went on their way until they came to the end of the cave gnipa, where garm was chained, and which yawned over niflheim. "the world weeps," they said one to another by way of encouragement, for here the road was so dreadful; but just as they were about to pass through the mouth of gnipa they came upon a haggard witch named thaukt, who sat in the entrance with her back to them, and her face toward the abyss. "baldur is dead! weep, weep!" said the messenger maidens, as they tried to pass her; but thaukt made answer: "what she doth hold, let hela keep; for naught care i, though the world weep, o'er baldur's bale. live he or die with tearless eye, old thaukt shall wail." and with these words leaped into niflheim with a yell of triumph. "surely that cry was the cry of loki," said one of the maidens; but another pointed towards the city of helheim, and there they saw the stern face of hela looking over the wall. "one has not wept," said the grim queen, "and helheim holds its own." so saying she motioned the maidens away with her long, cold hand. then the valkyries turned and fled up the steep way to the foot of odin's throne, like a pale snowdrift that flies before the storm. thor's adventures among the jÖtuns adapted by julia goddard once upon a time thor set out upon his travels, taking loki with him, for despite loki's spirit of mischief he often aided thor, who doubtless, in the present expedition, felt that loki might be of use to him. so they set off together in thor's chariot, drawn by its two strong he-goats, and as night drew nigh, stopped at the hut of a peasant, where they asked food and shelter. "food i have none to give you," said the peasant. "i am a poor man and not able even to give supper to my children, but if you like to rest under my roof you are welcome to do so." "never mind the food; i can manage that," said thor, dismounting from the chariot and entering the hut. it was a poor place, and not at all fitted to receive one of the asi, but thor was glad enough to meet with it, wretched as it was. "you can kill the goats," said he; "they will make us an excellent meal." the peasant could not help thinking that it was a pity to kill two such fine animals; but wisely thinking that this was no affair of his, and that the stranger had a right to do as he pleased with his own, he set himself to obey thor's orders, and with the help of his daughter raska soon spread a savory repast before the hungry god and his attendant. "sit down, all of you," said thor; "there is enough and to spare." so they all sat down, and the peasant and his children shared a more plentiful meal than had fallen to their lot lately. thor and loki also did ample justice to the food, and when supper was over the thunder-god bade the peasant gather the bones and place them in the goatskins, and making them into a bundle he left them on the floor until the next morning. when the morning came and the early sun shone in through the crevices, thor raised his hammer, and instead of the bundle of bones the peasant and his son and daughter saw the two goats standing as fresh and lively as if nothing had happened to them, saving that one of them halted a little in his walk. when they sought to learn why this should be, it was found that thialfe, the boy, in getting the marrow out of one of the bones, had broken it, and it was this that caused the goat to go lame. thor was very angry, and was very near killing not only thialfe but also the peasant and his daughter raska, but they begged so hard for their lives that he consented to spare them on condition that the boy and girl should follow him in his travels. to this they agreed, and thor, leaving the chariot and goats in the peasant's care, went on his journey, giving thialfe, who was a very swift runner, his wallet to carry. on and on they journeyed until they came to a great sea. "how are we to get over this?" asked loki. "swim across it," replied thor. and in they all plunged, for thialfe and raska were used to a hardy life, and so were able to swim with scarcely more weariness than thor and loki, and were not long in reaching the opposite shore. "the country does not improve," said loki, looking round upon the desolate plain that lay outstretched between them and the borders of a dark forest, which they could just see in the far distance. one or two huge rocks thrust their jagged points high into the air, and great blocks of stone were scattered about, but there was no sign of herbage and not a tree to be seen nearer than the forest belt bounding the horizon. heavy gray clouds were drawing nearer and nearer to the dreary earth, and twilight was fast approaching. "it looks not well," answered thor, "but we must push on and perhaps may find it better as we go onward. besides, night is drawing nigh, and as there are no dwellings to be seen we must try to gain the shelter of the forest before it is too dark to see where we are going." so they pushed on, and though they looked to the right hand and to the left, soon found that they were in a land where no men lived. there was, therefore, nothing to be done but to quicken their speed, in order to reach the shelter of the forest. but though they strove to the utmost, the twilight deepened into darkness and the darkness became so deep by the time they reached the forest, that they only knew they had arrived there by loki's striking his head against a low branch, and soon after this thor cried out: "good luck! i have found a house. follow close after me and we will make ourselves comfortable for the night." for thor in groping along had come to what he supposed to be a wall of solid masonry. "where are you?" asked loki, "for it is so dark that i cannot see you." "here," answered thor, stretching out his hand; "take hold and follow me." so loki clutched thor's arm, and thialfe in turn seized the arm of loki, whilst raska clung to her brother and wished herself safe at home in her father's hut. and thus they groped their way along the wall, seeking to find an entrance to the house. at last thor found a huge entrance opening into a wide, hall, and passing through this they turned to the left into a large room which was quite empty, and here, after eating some food, they stretched themselves upon the hard floor and wearied out with the day's march, soon fell asleep. but they did not sleep long. their slumbers were broken by a rumbling sound as of a coming earthquake; the walls of the house shook, and peals of thunder echoed through the lofty chamber. thor sprang up. "we are scarcely safe here," he said; "let us seek some other room." loki jumped up speedily, as did also thialfe and raska, who were in a great fright, wondering what dreadful thing was going to happen to them. they willingly followed thor, hoping to find a safer place. to the right they saw another room like a long gallery with a huge doorway, and into this loki, thialfe, and raska crept, choosing the farthest corner of it; but thor took his stand at the doorway to be on the watch if any fresh danger should threaten them. after a somewhat uncomfortable rest, loki, thialfe, and raska were not sorry to find that the day had dawned, though as there were no windows in the house, they only knew it by hearing the cock crow. thor was better off, for the doorway was so wide that the sunlight came pouring in without hindrance. indeed the huge size of the doorway made thor think that the builder must have given up all hope of ever finding a door large enough to fit into it. he strolled away from the house, and the first thing that he saw was a huge giant fast asleep upon the greensward; and now he knew that the thunder that had so frightened them in the night had been nothing more or less than the loud snoring of the giant. so wroth was thor at the thought that such a thing should have made him afraid, that he fastened on his belt of strength and drew his sword and made towards the giant as though he would kill him on the spot. but the giant, opening his great round eyes, stared so steadily at thor that the god became mazed and could do nothing but stare in return. at last, however, he found voice to ask, "what is your name?" "my name," said the giant, raising himself on one elbow, thereby causing his head to rise so high into the air that thor thought it was taking flight altogether, "is skrymner; you, i believe, are the god thor?" "i am," answered the god. "do you happen to have picked up my glove?" asked the giant carelessly. then thor knew that what he and his companions had taken for a large house was only the giant's glove, and from this we may judge how huge a giant skrymner must have been. thor made no answer, and skrymner next asked whither thor was traveling; and when he found that he was journeying to utgard, offered to bear him company, as he too was going to the same place. thor accepted the giant's offer, and after eating a hearty meal, all were ready for another day's march. skrymner showed himself a kindly giant, and insisted upon carrying thor's bag of meal, putting it into his own wallet, which he slung across his broad shoulders. it must have been a strange sight, indeed, to see the great giant stalking along with his smaller companions at his heels; and we may well marvel how they managed to keep pace with him, or how thor was able to raise his voice to such a pitch as to reach the giant's ears. nevertheless all went well, and they trudged cheerfully along, never flagging in their talk. once skrymner took raska on his shoulder, but the height made her so giddy that she was glad to come down again and walk quietly by the side of thialfe. when night overtook them they encamped under one of the great oak-trees, for they were not yet out of the bounds of the forest. skrymner, to judge by his loud snoring, fell asleep the moment he lay down upon the ground, but thor and his comrades were not so tired as to forget that they had tasted nothing since breakfast time. accordingly they set to work to open the wallet that skrymner had given into their hands before closing his eyes. but it was no easy task, and with all their efforts they failed to open it. not a knot could they untie, and their fingers were chafed and aching. neither were they more able to awaken skyrmner, and thor's anger waxed exceedingly fierce. "you shall pay for this," said he, flinging his hammer at the giant. skrymner half opened the eye nearest to thor, and said in a very sleepy voice, "why will the leaves drop off the trees?" and then he snored as loudly as before. thor picked up his hammer, and approaching nearer drove it into the hinder part of the giant's head, who again, half waking up, muttered, "how troublesome the dust is!" thor was exceedingly astonished at this, but thought nevertheless that he would once more make trial of his power; so coming up close to skrymner he struck with such force as to drive the hammer up to the handle in the giant's cheek. then skrymner opened both eyes, and lazily lifting his finger to his face said, "i suppose there are birds about, for i fancied i felt a feather fall." now was thor fairly disconcerted; and the next morning, when the giant told him that they must now part, as his road led him another way, he was by no means ill-pleased, and he let skrymner go without so much as bidding him "good speed." skrymner, however, seemed not to notice that thor was glad to be quit of his company, and gave him some very friendly advice before he left him. "if you will take my advice," said the giant, "you will give up this thought of visiting utgard. the people there are all giants of greater stature even than i, and they make nothing of little men, such as you are. nay, more, you yourself are likely to fare but badly amongst them, for i see that you are rather apt to think too much of yourself and to take too much upon you. be wise while there is time, think of what i say, and don't go near the city." "but i will go there," shouted thor, almost choked with rage; "i will go in spite of all the jötuns of jötunheim. none shall hinder me, and the giants shall see and wonder at the mighty power of the god thor." and as he spoke the rising sun fell full upon the city of utgard, whose huge brazen gates glittered in the sunlight. even though they were so far away, thor could see how high they were; and as he drew nearer, their vast size filled him with amazement; but when he reached them his wonder was beyond all words, for he and his companions seemed no larger than grasshoppers, in comparison with their height. the gates were not open, for it was yet early; so thor and his comrades crept through the bars, and entered the city. as they passed along the streets the houses were so tall that it was only by crossing to the opposite side of the broad road that they were able to see the windows in the topmost stories. and the streets were so wide that it was quite a journey across them. once a mouse darted out of a hole, and raska screamed, for she thought it was a grisly bear. the mouse also shrieked and made much more noise than raska, as well it might, for a cat so huge that thialfe half thought it must be the monster of midgard seized it, and giving it a pat with one of its paws laid it dead on the pavement. as for the horses, their hoofs were terrible to look at, and thialfe and raska must have climbed up ladders if they wished to see their heads. the people were quite as large as skrymner had described and thor and his companions were obliged to be very careful lest they should get trodden upon, as it was very doubtful if the people even saw them. still thor walked along with the proud consciousness that he was the god thor; and feeling that though he was so small he was yet a person of some importance, made his way to the palace, and desired to see the king. after some little time he and his fellow travelers were ushered into the presence of utgarda loke, the king of the country. and utgarda loke, hearing the door open, raised his eyes, thinking to see some great courtier enter, but he knew nothing of the bows and greetings of thor, until happening to cast his eyes to the ground, he saw a little man with his companions saluting him with much ceremony. the king had never seen such small men before, and there was something so absurd to him in the sight, that he burst out laughing. and then all the courtiers laughed also, pretending that they had not seen the little creatures before. it was some time before they all left off laughing, but at length there was a pause, and thor essayed to make himself heard. "though we are but small in comparison with the jötuns," said he angrily, "we are by no means to be despised, but are gifted with powers that may surprise you." "really!" answered utgarda loke, raising his eyebrows. and then he and his courtiers laughed louder than before. at last there was another pause in their merriment, and the king added: "however, we are willing to give the strangers a fair trial in order to prove the truth of what their spokesman, whom i take to be the god thor, says. how say you? what can this one do?" and he pointed to loki. "please your majesty, i am very great at eating," returned loki. "nay," answered utgarda loke, "you must grow a little before you are great at anything." at which speech the courtiers again shouted with laughter; but utgarda loke, turning to his servants, bade them make trial of loki's powers. so they brought a great trough full of food, and loki was placed at one end, and a courtier named loge at the other. they both fell to work to devour what was before them, and met at the middle of the trough. but it was found that while loki had eaten the flesh of his portion, loge had eaten, not only the flesh, but the bones also. therefore loki, was, of course, vanquished. then utgarda loke turned to thialfe. "and pray, in what may this youth be specially skilled?" he asked. "i am a swift skater," answered thialfe. "try him," said the king. and thialfe was led to a plain of ice, as smooth as glass, and one named hugr was set to run against him. but though thialfe was the swiftest skater ever known in the world, yet hugr glided past him so fleetly that he had returned to the starting-post before thialfe had done more than a quarter of the distance. three times did thialfe match his speed against hugr, and, three times beaten, withdrew from the contest as disconsolate as loki. "and now may i ask what you can do yourself?" said the king to thor. "i can drain a wine-cup with any one," replied the god. "try him," said utgarda loke. and forthwith the royal cupbearer presented a drinking-horn to thor. "if you are as great as you pretend to be," said the king, "you will drain it at one draught. some people take two pulls at it, but the weakest among us can manage it in three." thor took up the horn, and, being very thirsty, took a steady pull at it. he thought he had done very well, but on removing it from his lips he marveled to see how little had gone. a second time he took a draught, but the horn was far from being emptied. again a third time he essayed to drain it, but it was full almost to the brim. therefore he set it down in despair, and confessed himself unable to drain it. "i am disappointed in you," said utgarda loke; "you are not half the man i took you for. i see it is no use asking you to do warrior's feats; i must try you in a simpler way, in a child's play that we have amongst us. you shall try to lift my cat from the ground." thor turned quite scarlet, and then became white with rage. "are you afraid?" asked utgarde loke; "you look so pale." and a large gray cat came leaping along, and planted itself firmly before thor, showing its sharp claws, and glaring upon him with its fiery eyes. thor seized it, but in spite of all his efforts he was only able to raise one of the cat's paws from the ground. "pooh! pooh!" exclaimed utgarda loke, "you are a mere baby, fit only for the nursery. i believe that my old nurse hela would be more than a match for you. here, hela, come and wrestle with the mighty god thor." and utgarda loke laughed disdainfully. forth stepped a decrepit old woman, with lank cheeks and toothless jaws. her eyes were sunken, her brow furrowed, and her scanty locks were white as snow. she advanced towards thor, and tried to throw him to the ground; but though he put forth his whole strength to withstand her, he was surprised to find how powerful she was, and that it needed all his efforts to keep his feet. for a long time he was successful, but at length she brought him down upon one knee, and thor was obliged to acknowledge himself conquered. ashamed and mortified, he and his companions withdrew to a lodging for the night, and in the morning were making ready to leave the city quietly, when utgarda loke sent for them. he made them a splendid feast, and afterwards went with them beyond the city gates. "now tell me honestly," said he to thor, "what do you think of your success?" "i am beyond measure astounded and ashamed," replied the god. "ha! ha!" laughed utgarda loke. "i knew that you were. however, as we are well out of the city i don't mind telling you a secret or two. doubtless you will receive a little comfort from my doing so, as you confess that your coming hither has been to no purpose. "in the first place, you have been deceived by enchantments ever since you came within the borders of jötunheim. i am the giant you met with on your way hither, and if i had known as much of your power then as i do now, you would never have found your way within the walls of utgard. "certainly i had had some slight experience of it, for the three blows you gave me would have killed me had they fallen upon me. but it was not i, but a huge mountain that you struck at; and if you visit it again, you will find three valleys cleft in the rocks by the strokes of your hammer. "as for the wallet, i had fastened it with a magic chain, so that you need not wonder that you could not open it. "loge, with whom loki strove, was no courtier, but a subtle devouring flame that consumed all before it." here loki uttered an exclamation of delight, but thor bade him be silent, and utgarda loke went on: "thialfe's enemy was hugr, or thought, and let man work away as hard as he pleases, thought will still outrun him. "as for yourself, the end of the drinking-horn, though you did not see it, reached the sea, and as fast as you emptied it, it filled again, so that you never could have drained it dry. but the next time that you stand upon the seashore, you will find how much less the ocean is by your draughts. "the gray cat was no cat, but the great serpent of midgard, that twines round the world, and you lifted him so high that we were all quite frightened. "but your last feat was the most wonderful of all, for hela was none other than death. and never did i see any one before over whom death had so little power. "and now, my friend, go your way, and don't come near my city again, for i tell you plainly i do not want you there, and i shall use all kinds of enchantment to keep you out of it." as he ended his speech, thor raised his hammer, but utgarda loke had vanished. "i will return to the city, and be avenged," said thor. but lo! the giant city was nowhere to be seen. a fair pasture-land spread itself out around him, and through its midst a broad river flowed peacefully along. so thor and his companions, musing upon their wonderful adventures, turned their steps homewards. the apples of idun adapted by hamilton wright mabie once upon a time odin, loki, and hoenir started on a journey. they had often traveled together before on all sorts of errands, for they had a great many things to look after, and more than once they had fallen into trouble through the prying, meddlesome, malicious spirit of loki, who was never so happy as when he was doing wrong. when the gods went on a journey they traveled fast and hard, for they were strong, active spirits who loved nothing so much as hard work, hard blows, storm, peril, and struggle. there were no roads through the country over which they made their way, only high mountains to be climbed by rocky paths, deep valleys into which the sun hardly looked during half the year, and swift-rushing streams, cold as ice, and treacherous to the surest foot and the strongest arm. not a bird flew through the air, not an animal sprang through the trees. it was as still as a desert. the gods walked on and on, getting more tired and hungry at every step. the sun was sinking low over the steep, pine-crested mountains, and the travelers had neither breakfasted nor dined. even odin was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, like the most ordinary mortal, when suddenly, entering a little valley, the famished gods came upon a herd of cattle. it was the work of a minute to kill a great ox and to have the carcass swinging in a huge pot over a roaring fire. but never were gods so unlucky before! in spite of their hunger, the pot would not boil. they piled on the wood until the great flames crackled and licked the pot with their fiery tongues, but every time the cover was lifted there was the meat just as raw as when it was put in. it is easy to imagine that the travelers were not in very good humor. as they were talking about it, and wondering how it could be, a voice called out from the branches of the oak overhead, "if you will give me my fill, i'll make the pot boil." the gods looked first at each other and then into the tree, and there they discovered a great eagle. they were glad enough to get their supper on almost any terms, so they told the eagle he might have what he wanted if he would only get the meat cooked. the bird was as good as his word, and in less time than it takes to tell it supper was ready. then the eagle flew down and picked out both shoulders and both legs. this was a pretty large share, it must be confessed, and loki, who was always angry when anybody got more than he, no sooner saw what the eagle had taken, than he seized a great pole and began to beat the rapacious bird unmercifully. whereupon a very singular thing happened, as singular things always used to happen when the gods were concerned: the pole stuck fast in the huge talons of the eagle at one end, and loki stuck fast at the other end. struggle as he might, he could not get loose, and as the great bird sailed away over the tops of the trees, loki went pounding along on the ground, striking against rocks and branches until he was bruised half to death. the eagle was not an ordinary bird by any means, as loki soon found when he begged for mercy. the giant thjasse happened to be flying abroad in his eagle plumage when the hungry travelers came under the oak and tried to cook the ox. it was into his hands that loki had fallen, and he was not to get away until he had promised to pay roundly for his freedom. if there was one thing which the gods prized above their other treasures in asgard, it was the beautiful fruit of idun, kept by the goddess in a golden casket and given to the gods to keep them forever young and fair. without these apples all their power could not have kept them from getting old like the meanest of mortals. without these apples of idun, asgard itself would have lost its charm; for what would heaven be without youth and beauty forever shining through it? thjasse told loki that he could not go unless he would promise to bring the apples of idun. loki was wicked enough for anything; but when it came to robbing the gods of their immortality, even he hesitated. and while he hesitated the eagle dashed hither and thither, flinging him against the sides of the mountains and dragging him through the great tough boughs of the oaks until his courage gave out entirely, and he promised to steal the apples out of asgard and give them to the giant. loki was bruised and sore enough when he got on his feet again to hate the giant who handled him so roughly, with all his heart, but he was not unwilling to keep his promise to steal the apples, if only for the sake of tormenting the other gods. but how was it to be done? idun guarded the golden fruit of immortality with sleepless watchfulness. no one ever touched it but herself, and a beautiful sight it was to see her fair hands spread it forth for the morning feasts in asgard. the power which loki possessed lay not so much in his own strength, although he had a smooth way of deceiving people, as in the goodness of others who had no thought of his doing wrong because they never did wrong themselves. not long after all this happened, loki came carelessly up to idun as she was gathering her apples to put them away in the beautiful carven box which held them. "good morning, goddess," said he. "how fair and golden your apples are! "yes," answered idun; "the bloom of youth keeps them always beautiful." "i never saw anything like them," continued loki slowly, as if he were talking about a matter of no importance, "until the other day." idun looked up at once with the greatest interest and curiosity in her face. she was very proud of her apples, and she knew no earthly trees, however large and fair, bore the immortal fruit. "where have you seen any apples like them?" she asked. "oh, just outside the gates," said loki indifferently. "if you care to see them i'll take you there. it will keep you but a moment. the tree is only a little way off." idun was anxious to go at once. "better take your apples with you, to compare them with the others," said the wily god, as she prepared to go. idun gathered up the golden apples and went out of asgard, carrying with her all that made it heaven. no sooner was she beyond the gates than a mighty rushing sound was heard, like the coming of a tempest, and before she could think or act, the giant thjasse, in his eagle plumage, was bearing her swiftly away through the air to his desolate, icy home in thrymheim, where, after vainly trying to persuade her to let him eat the apples and be forever young like the gods, he kept her a lonely prisoner. loki, after keeping his promise and delivering idun into the hands of the giant, strayed back into asgard as if nothing had happened. the next morning, when the gods assembled for their feast, there was no idun. day after day went past, and still the beautiful goddess did not come. little by little the light of youth and beauty faded from the home of the gods, and they themselves became old and haggard. their strong, young faces were lined with care and furrowed by age, their raven locks passed from gray to white, and their flashing eyes became dim and hollow. bragi, the god of poetry, could make no music while his beautiful wife was gone he knew not whither. morning after morning the faded light broke on paler and ever paler faces, until even in heaven the eternal light of youth seemed to be going out forever. finally the gods could bear the loss of power and joy no longer. they made rigorous inquiry. they tracked loki on that fair morning when he led idun beyond the gates; they seized him and brought him into solemn council, and when he read in their haggard faces the deadly hate which flamed in all their hearts against his treachery, his courage failed, and he promised to bring idun back to asgard if the goddess freyja would lend him her falcon guise. no sooner said than done; and with eager gaze the gods watched him as he flew away, becoming at last only a dark moving speck against the sky. after long and weary flight loki came to thrymheim, and was glad enough to find thjassa gone to sea and idun alone in his dreary house. he changed her instantly into a nut, and taking her thus disguised in his talons, flew away as fast as his falcon wings could carry him. and he had need of all his speed, for thjasse, coming suddenly home and finding idun and her precious fruit gone, guessed what had happened, and, putting on his eagle plumage, flew forth in a mighty rage, with vengeance in his heart. like the rushing wings of a tempest, his mighty pinions beat the air and bore him swiftly onward. from mountain peak to mountain peak he measured his wide course, almost grazing at times the murmuring pine forests, and then sweeping high in mid-air with nothing above but the arching sky, and nothing beneath but the tossing sea. at last he sees the falcon far ahead, and now his flight becomes like the flash of the lightning for swiftness, and like the rushing of clouds for uproar. the haggard faces of the gods line the walls of asgard and watch the race with tremulous eagerness. youth and immortality are staked upon the winning of loki. he is weary enough and frightened enough, too, as the eagle sweeps on close behind him; but he makes desperate efforts to widen the distance between them. little by little the eagle gains on the falcon. the gods grow white with fear; they rush off and prepare great fires upon the walls. with fainting, drooping wing the falcon passes over and drops exhausted by the wall. in an instant the fires have been lighted, and the great flames roar to heaven. the eagle sweeps across the fiery line a second later and falls, maimed and burned to the ground; where a dozen fierce hands smite the life out of him, and the great giant thjasse perishes among his foes. idun resumes her natural form as bragi rushes to meet her. the gods crowd round her. she spreads the feast, the golden apples gleaming with unspeakable lustre in the eyes of the gods. they eat; and once more their faces glow with the beauty of immortal youth, their eyes flash with the radiance of divine power, and, while idun stands like a star for beauty among the throng, the song of bragi is heard once more; for poetry and immortality are wedded again. the gifts of the dwarfs thor was, you may know, the strongest and noblest of the great giants of the north. he was tall in stature and had fiery brown eyes, from which the light flashed like lightning, while his long red beard waved through the sky as he drove in his goat-drawn chariot. brilliant sparks flew from the hoofs and teeth of the two goats, while a crown of bright stars shone above thor's head. when he was angered the wheels of his chariot rumbled and crashed their passage through the air, until men trembled and hid, telling each other that thor had gone to battle with the rime-giants or other of his enemies. now thor's wife was named sib, and she was most beautiful to look upon. her soft, browny-gold hair was so long and thick that it would cover her from the crown of her head to her little feet, and her deep brown eyes looked into the faces of her friends as those of a mother look into the face of her child. loki, the mischief-maker among the giants, often looked at sib and longed to do her some evil, for he was jealous, thinking that it was not right that she should be praised and loved by everyone; go where he would he could find no one who did not speak well of her. it happened one day when the summer was nearly gone that loki found sib alone and sleeping on a bank near the river, so he drew his knife, and creeping softly nearer and nearer, cut off her beautiful flowing hair quite close to her head. then he joyfully rushed away and strewed it far and wide over the whole earth, so that it became no longer living and golden but faded and turned a dull color as the winds blew it about and the rains beat upon it, and crushed it in between the rocks and stones. when sib awoke and was about to push the hair from her face, she felt that something was wrong. wonderingly she ran to the water and looking at her reflection in the clear depths, saw that nothing but a short stubble stood up all over her head. all her lovely hair was gone! only one would have dared to treat her so badly, and in her grief and anger she called upon thor to come to her aid. loki had of course fled and was hiding far away in another country among the rocks when he heard the distant rumblings of thunder, and tried to shrink deeper into the crevices between the great stones, but the awful sound grew louder, and at last the angry flash from thor's eyes darted to the very spot where the mischievous one lay. then thor pulled him out and shook him from side to side in his enormous hands, and would have crushed his bones upon the hard rocks had not loki in great terror asked what good his death would do, for it certainly would not bring sib's hair back. then thor set the mischief-maker on his feet, though still keeping a tight hold on him, and asked what he would do to repair the evil which he had done. loki promptly answered that he would go down into the mountains to the dwarfs, and get iwald's sons to make some golden hair for sib, as good as that which he had destroyed. now iwald had had seven sons, and these all lived deep below the earth in the great caverns which lie below the mountains, and these sons were small and dark; they did not like the daylight for they were dwarfs who could see best without the sun to dazzle their eyes; they knew where gold and silver grew, and they could tell where to find beautiful shining stones, which were red, and white, and yellow, and green; they knew the way all over the world by running through caverns and passages under the mountains, and wherever they could find precious stones or metals they built a furnace, and made an anvil, and hammer and bellows, and everything that was wanted in a smithy; for they knew how to fashion the most wonderful things from gold and iron and stone, and they had knowledge which made them more powerful than the people who lived above the ground. thor let the mischief-maker go to get the help of the dwarfs to repair the wrong which he had done, and loki sought about the mountain-side until he found a hole which would lead him into iwald's cave, and then he promptly dropped into it. there in a dark cave gleaming with many sparkling lights he went to the two cleverest dwarfs who were named sindri and brok, and told them what it was he wanted, adding that he would be in sore trouble with thor if they could not help him. now sindri and brok knew all about loki perfectly well; they knew all about his mischievous ways and the evil he so often wrought, but as they liked thor and sib they were willing to give the help which was asked of them. thus without more ado, for these dwarfs never wasted their words, sindri and brok began their work. huge blocks of earth-brown stone were cast into the furnace until they were in a white heat, when drop by drop red gold trickled from them into the ashes. this was all gathered together, and the glistening heap taken to the dwarf women, who, crushing it in their hands before it had hardened, drew it out upon their wheels, and spun it into fine soft hair. while they were doing this brok sought amongst his treasures until he found the blue of the ocean and the tough inner pith of an underground tree; these, with other things, were cast into the furnace, and afterwards beaten with his hammer. as the rhythmic strokes fell, the women sang a song which was like the voice of a strong, steady wind. then when this work was finished, the smith drew forth a little ship, which was carefully placed on one side. the third time the dwarf went to a dark corner, and brought out an ugly bent bar of iron, and this, with two feathers from the wings of the wind, was heated to melting whiteness, and wrought with great cunning and extreme care, for it was to be a spear for odin himself, the greatest of all the heroes. then brok and sindri called loki to them and giving him these three things bade him hasten back to the gods at asgard and appease their wrath. loki, however, was already beginning to feel sorry that he had been so successful; he liked teasing folk but he did not like having to atone for his mischief afterwards. he turned the marvelous gifts over scornfully in his hands, and said that he did not see anything very wonderful in _them;_ then, looking at sindri he added, "however, brok has hammered them very skilfully, and i will wager my head that you could not make anything better." now the brother dwarfs had not by any means expected gratitude, but neither had they expected any such rudeness as this, so sindri determined to give loki a lesson. going to one corner of the smithy he picked up a pig-skin and taking the hammer in his hands, told his brother to blow steadily, neither to falter nor to fail until he passed the word that the work was done. then with strength and gentleness he wrought with his tools, having cast nothing into the heat but the pig-skin; with mighty blows and delicate touches he brought thickness and substance into it, until a board looked at him from the flames. loki, fearing for his head, changed himself into an enormous forest fly, and settling upon brok's hand, stung with vicious fury; but the dwarf would not trouble to brush the fly away, and steadily moved the bellows until his brother called to him to stop, when they drew forth a strong flexible boar whose bristles were of the finest gold. then without saying anything or paying any attention to the spiteful words which loki kept uttering, sindri chose from a heap of gold the most solid lump he could find and flung it into the white flames. thrice it was heated and cooled, and the dark elf turned it and worked it with wonderful skill, and in the glow loki saw a broad red ring, which seemed to live and move. again he tried to spoil the work as a fly, and bit deeply into brok's neck, but brok would not so much as raise his hand to rid him of the pain. when the ring was finally laid to cool, so marvelously had it been wrought that from it each ninth night would fall eight rings as beautiful as itself. now came the last test of sindri's cunning. he cast into the furnace a piece of fine iron, and told brok his hand must neither tremble nor stay, or the whole of their work would be useless. then with wild songs of strength upon his lips he hammered and tapped, until those who were in the cave felt that they were out among the roaring waves; they could hear the ice mountains grind and crash to pieces, and the thunder of thor's chariot wheels rushing through the heavens. a frenzied horror seized upon loki's mind. if these wretched dwarfs were going to make anything to add to thor's strength he knew that it would be his own ruin. so, changing himself to a hornet, he sprang upon the forehead of brok, and dug so fiercely into his eyelids that the blood trickled down and blinded him. then the dwarf let go of the bellows for one moment to clear his eyes, and sindri cried out that what lay in the furnace came near to being spoiled, and with that he took a red-hot hammer up with his tongs. it was neither pretty, nor particularly large, while the handle was an inch too short because of loki's spite. then brok and loki set out for asgard, loki carrying the three wonderful things which had been given to him, while brok carried the three marvels which sindri had so cunningly wrought and accompanied the mischief-maker, that the gods might judge who had won the wager so rashly offered by loki. when they reached asgard the gods seated themselves on their high seats agreeing among themselves that odin, thor and frey should be judges in this case. first, loki offered to odin the spear gungner which was so wonderfully made that it never failed to hit the thing at which it was thrown, and it always sped back to the hand which had thrown it. later, when odin carried this spear in battle, if he shook it over his enemies they became so frightened that they all wanted to run away, but if he shook it over his friends they were so filled with courage that they could not be conquered. then thor received the hair, and when it was placed upon sib's head it grew to her like living tresses, curling and waving in the wind. to frey the ship was given, and though it was so small that it could be folded and carried in his pocket, when it was placed upon the waves it would grow large enough to hold an army of warriors with all their war gear; besides, as soon as the sails were hoisted, the wind would blow it whithersoever it was desired that the ship should go. brok then made his offerings, and to odin he gave the ring drapnir which had been made with such magic skill that every ninth night eight other rings dropped off it, though no one could see how they came; this the greatest of the gods ever wore upon his arm, until the death of his beautiful son baldur, when, as token of his great love he placed it upon the dead youth's breast as he lay on his funeral pyre. to frey was given the golden boar, which would run faster than any horse, over the sea or through the air, and wherever it went, there it would be light, because the bristles shone so brightly. to thor brok gave the dull-looking hammer, saying, that whatever he struck with it would be destroyed; that no blow could be hard enough to hurt it; that if he threw it, it would return to him so that he could never lose it; and that as he wished so would its size be--yet there was one fault about it, and that was that the handle was an inch too short. it was with great joy that thor took this treasure, knowing that in it he had something to help him in fighting the evil rime-giants who were always trying to get the whole world for themselves until driven back by him. then the gods decided that of all the gifts the hammer was the best, and that, therefore, loki had lost his wager and must lose his head. loki offered to give all sorts of things to save himself, but the dwarf would not listen to any of them. "catch me, then!" cried the mischievous one; but when brok stretched his hand upon him loki had gone, for he wore shoes which would carry him over the sea or through the air. "catch him!" cried the ugly little dwarf piteously to thor, and in an instant loki stood before them, trembling in thor's strong grasp. then the clever one argued that it was his head only which had been wagered, and that not one little tiny bit of his neck might be taken, or the dwarf would have more than his bargain. at this brok cried impatiently that the head of a wicked person was of no use to him, all that he wanted was to stop loki's tongue so that he could work less evil, and he took a knife and thread and tried to pierce holes in loki's lips, but loki bewitched the knife so that it would not cut. "if only i had sindri's awl," sighed the dwarf, and instantly his brother's awl was in his hand. swiftly it pierced the lips of the mischief-maker, and swiftly brok sewed them together and broke off the thread at the end of the sewing. then the gods gave presents for the dwarfs in return for their wonderful things, and brok returned to his cave. as for loki, it was not long before he loosed his lips and returned to his mischief-making. the punishment of loki adapted from a. and e. keary's version after the death of baldur, loki never again ventured to intrude himself into the presence of the gods. he knew well enough that he had now done what could never be forgiven him, and that, for the future, he must bend all his cunning and vigilance to the task of hiding himself from the gaze of those whom he had so injured, and escaping the just punishment he had brought upon himself. "the world is large, and i am very clever," said loki to himself, as he turned his back upon asgard, and wandered out into manheim; "there is no end to the thick woods, and no measure for the deep waters; neither is there any possibility of counting the various forms under which i shall disguise myself. odin will never be able to find me; i have no cause to fear." but though loki repeated this over and over again to himself, he _was_ afraid. he wandered far into the thick woods, and covered himself with the deep waters; he climbed to the tops of misty hills, and crouched in the dark of hollow caves; but above the wood, and through the water, and down into the darkness, a single ray of calm, clear light seemed always to follow him, and he knew that it came from the eye of odin who was watching him from air throne. then he tried to escape the watchful eye by disguising himself under various shapes. sometimes he was an eagle on a lonely mountain-crag; sometimes he hid himself as one among a troop of timid reindeer; sometimes he lay in the nest of a wood-pigeon; sometimes he swam, a bright-spotted fish, in the sea; but, wherever he was, among living creatures, or alone with dead nature, everything seemed to know him, and to find a voice in which to say to him, "you are loki, and you have killed baldur." air, earth, or water, there was no rest for him anywhere. tired at last of seeking what he could nowhere find, loki built himself a house near a narrow, glittering river which, lower down flashed from a high rock into the sea below. he took care that his house should have four doors in it, that he might look out on every side and catch the first glimpse of the gods when they came, as he knew they would come, to take him away. here his wife, siguna, and his two sons, ali and nari, came to live with him. siguna was a kind woman, far too good and kind for loki. she felt sorry for him now that she saw he was in great fear, and that every living thing had turned against him, and she would have hidden him from the just anger of the gods if she could; but the two sons cared little about their father's dread and danger; they spent all their time in quarreling with each other; and their loud, angry voices, sounding above the waterfall, would speedily have betrayed the hiding-place, even if odin's piercing eye had not already found it out. at last, one day when he was sitting in the middle of his house looking alternately out of all the four doors and amusing himself as well as he could by making a fishing-net, he spied in the distance the whole company of the gods approaching his house. the sight of them coming all together--beautiful, and noble, and free--pierced loki with a pang that was worse than death. he rose without daring to look again, threw his net on a fire that burned on the floor, and, rushing to the side of the little river, he turned himself into a salmon, swam down to the deepest, stillest pool at the bottom, and hid himself between two stones. the gods entered the house, and looked all round in vain for loki, till kvasir, one of odin's sons, famous for his keen sight, spied out the remains of the fishing-net in the fire; then odin knew at once that there was a river near, and that it was there where loki had hidden himself. he ordered his sons to make a new net, and to cast it into the water, and drag out whatever living thing they could find there. it was done as he desired. thor held one end of the net, and all the rest of the gods drew the other through the water. when they pulled it up the first time, however, it was empty, and they would have gone away disappointed had not kvasir, looking earnestly at the meshes of the net, saw that something living had certainly touched them. they then added a weight to the net, and threw it with such force that it reached the bottom of the river, and dragged up the stones in the pool. loki now saw the danger he was in of being caught in the net, and, as there was no other way of escape, he rose to the surface, swam down the river as quickly as he could, and leaped over the net into the waterfall. he swam and leaped quick as a flash of lightning, but not so quickly but that the gods saw him, knew him through his disguise, and resolved that he should no longer escape. they themselves divided into two bands. thor waded down the river to the waterfall; the other gods stood in a group below. loki swam backwards and forwards between them. first he thought he would dart out into the sea, and then that he would spring over the net back again into the river. this last seemed the easiest way of escape, and with the greatest speed he attempted it. thor, however, was watching for him, and as soon as loki leaped out of the water he stretched out his hand and caught him while he was yet turning in the air. loki wriggled his slippery, slimy length through thor's fingers; but the thunderer grasped him tightly by the tail, and, holding him in this manner in this hand, waded to the shore. there father odin and the other gods met him; and, at odin's first searching look, loki was obliged to drop his disguise, and, cowering and frightened, to assume his proper shape before the assembled lords. one by one they turned their faces from him; for, in looking at him, they seemed to see over again the death of baldur the beloved. you were told that there were high rocks looking over the sea near loki's house. one of these, higher than the rest, had midway four projecting stones, and to these the gods resolved to bind loki so that he should never again be able to torment the inhabitants of manheim or asgard by his evil-doings. thor proposed to return to asgard, to bring a chain with which to bind the prisoner; but odin assured him that he had no need to take such a journey. "loki," he said, "has already forged for himself a chain stronger than any you can make. while we have been occupied in catching him, his two sons, ali and nari, transformed into wolves by their evil passions, have fought with and destroyed each other. with their sinews we must make a chain to bind their father, and from that he can never escape." it was done as asa odin said. a rope was made of the dead wolves' sinews, and as soon as it touched loki's body it turned into bands of iron and bound him immovably to the rock. secured in this manner the gods left him. [illustration: the punishment of loki.] but his punishment did not end here. a snake, whose fangs dropped poison, glided to the top of the rock and leaned his head over to peer at loki. the eyes of the two met and fixed each other. the serpent could never move away afterwards; but every moment a burning drop from his tongue fell down on loki's shuddering face. in all the world there was only one who pitied him. his kind wife ever afterwards stood beside him and held a cup over his head to catch the poison. when the cup was full, she was obliged to turn away to empty it, and the deadly drops fell again on loki's face. he shuddered and shrank from them, and the whole earth trembled. so will he lie bound till the twilight of the gods be here. myths of india the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey adapted by m. frere a blind man and a deaf man once entered into partnership. the deaf man was to see for the blind man, and the blind man was to hear for the deaf man. one day they went together to an entertainment where there was music and dancing. the deaf man said: "the dancing is very good, but the music is not worth listening to"; and the blind man said: "on the contrary, i think the music very good, but the dancing is not worth looking at." after this they went together for a walk in the jungle, and there found a washerman's donkey that had strayed away from its owner, and a great big kettle (such as washermen boil clothes in), which the donkey was carrying with him. the deaf man said to the blind man: "brother, here are a donkey and a washerman's great big kettle, with nobody to own them! let us take them with us--they may be useful to us some day." "very well," said the blind man; "we will take them with us." so the blind man and the deaf man went on their way, taking the donkey and the great big kettle with them. a little farther on they came to an ant's nest, and the deaf man said to the blind man: "here are a number of very fine black ants, much larger than any i ever saw before. let us take some of them home to show our friends." "very well," answered the blind man; "we will take them as a present to our friends." so the deaf man took a silver snuff-box out of his pocket, and put four or five of the finest black ants into it; which done, they continued their journey. but before they had gone very far a terrible storm came on. it thundered and lightened and rained and blew with such fury that it seemed as if the whole heavens' and earth were at war. "oh dear! oh dear!" cried the deaf man, "how dreadful this lightning is! let us make haste and get to some place of shelter." "i don't see that it's dreadful at all," answered the blind man; "but the thunder is very terrible; we had better certainly seek some place of shelter." now, not far off was a lofty building, which looked exactly like a fine temple. the deaf man saw it, and he and the blind man resolved to spend the night there; and having reached the place, they went in and shut the door, taking the donkey and the great big kettle with them. but this building, which they mistook for a temple was in truth no temple at all, but the house of a very powerful rakshas or ogre; and hardly had the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey got inside and fastened the door, than the rakshas, who had been out, returned home. to his surprise, he found the door fastened and heard people moving about inside his house. "ho! ho!" cried he to himself, "some men have got in here, have they? i'll soon make mince-meat of them." so he began to roar in a voice louder than the thunder, and to cry: "let me into my house this minute, you wretches; let me in, let me in, i say," and to kick the door and batter it with his great fists. but though his voice was very powerful, his appearance was still more alarming, insomuch that the deaf man, who was peeping at him through a chink in the wall, felt so frightened that he did not know what to do. but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and went up to the door and called out: "who are you, and what do you mean by coming battering at the door in this way at this time of night?" "i'm a rakshas," answered the rakshas angrily, "and this is my house. let me in this instant or i'll kill you." all this time the deaf man, who was watching the rakshas, was shivering and shaking in a terrible fright, but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and he called out again: "oh, you're a rakshas, are you? well, if you're rakshas, i'm bakshas; and bakshas is as good as rakshas." "bakshas!" roared the rakshas. "bakshas! bakshas! what nonsense is this? there is no such creature as a bakshas!" "go away," replied the blind man, "and don't dare to make any further disturbance, lest i punish you with a vengeance; for know that i'm bakshas, and bakshas is rakshas's father." "my father?" answered the rakshas. "heavens and earth! bakshas, and my father! i never heard such an extraordinary thing in my life. you my father; and in there! i never knew my father was called bakshas!" "yes," replied the blind man; "go away instantly, i command you, for i am your father bakshas." "very well," answered the rakshas (for he began to get puzzled and frightened); "but if you are my father, let me first see your face." (for he thought: "perhaps they are deceiving me.") the blind man and the deaf man didn't know what to do; but at last they opened the door a very tiny chink and poked the donkey's nose out. when the rakshas saw it he thought to himself: "bless me, what a terribly ugly face my father bakshas has!" he then called out: "o father bakshas, you have a very big, fierce face; but people have sometimes very big heads and very little bodies. pray let me see your body as well as head before i go away." then the blind man and the deaf man rolled the washerman's great big kettle with a thundering noise past the chink in the door, and the rakshas, who was watching attentively, was very much surprised when he saw this great black thing rolling along the floor, and he thought: "in truth, my father bakshas has a very big body as well as a big head. he's big enough to eat me up altogether. i'd better go away." but still he could not help being a little doubtful, so he cried: "o bakshas, father bakshas! you have indeed got a very big head and a very big body; but do, before i go away, let me hear you scream," for all rakshas scream fearfully. then the cunning deaf man (who was getting less frightened) pulled the silver snuff-box out of his pocket, and took the black ants out of it, and put one black ant in the donkey's right ear, and another black ant in the donkey's left ear, and another and another. the ants pinched the poor donkey's ears dreadfully, and the donkey was so hurt and frightened he began to bellow as loud as he could: "eh augh! eh augh! eh augh! augh! augh!" and at this terrible noise the rakshas fled away in a great fright, saying: "enough, enough, father bakshas! the sound of your voice would make the most refractory obedient." and no sooner had he gone than the deaf man took the ants out of the donkey's ears, and he and the blind man spent the rest of the night in peace and comfort. next morning the deaf man woke the blind man early, saying: "awake, brother, awake: here we are indeed in luck! the whole floor is covered with heaps of gold and silver and precious stones." and so it was, for the rakshas owned a vast amount of treasure, and the whole house was full of it. "that is a good thing," said the blind man. "show me where it is and i will help you to collect it." so they collected as much treasure as possible and made four great bundles of it. the blind man took one great bundle, the deaf man took another, and, putting the other two great bundles on the donkey, they started off to return home. but the rakshas, whom they had frightened away the night before, had not gone very far off, and was waiting to see what his father bakshas might look like by daylight. he saw the door of his house open and watched attentively, when out walked--only a blind man, a deaf man, and a donkey, who were all three laden with large bundles of his treasure. the blind man carried one bundle, the deaf man carried another bundle, and two bundles were on the donkey. the rakshas was extremely angry, and immediately called six of his friends to help him kill the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey, and recover the treasure. the deaf man saw them coming (seven great rakshas, with hair a yard long and tusks like an elephant's), and was dreadfully frightened; but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and said: "brother, why do you lag behind in that way?" "oh!" answered the deaf man, "there are seven great rakshas with tusks like an elephant's coming to kill us! what can we do?" "let us hide the treasure in the bushes," said the blind man; "and do you lead me to a tree; then i will climb up first, and you shall climb up afterward, and so we shall be out of their way." the deaf man thought this good advice; so he pushed the donkey and the bundles of treasure into the bushes, and led the blind man to a high soparee-tree that grew close by; but he was a very cunning man, this deaf man, and instead of letting the blind man climb up first and following him, he got up first and let the blind man clamber after, so that he was farther out of harm's way than his friend. when the rakshas arrived at the place and saw them both perched out of reach in the soparee-tree, he said to his friends: "let us get on each other's shoulders; we shall then be high enough to pull them down." so one rakshas stooped down, and the second got on his shoulders, and the third on his, and the fourth on his, and the fifth on his, and the sixth on his; and the seventh and the last rakshas (who had invited all the others) was just climbing up when the deaf man (who was looking over the blind man's shoulder) got so frightened that in his alarm he caught hold of his friend's arm, crying: "they're coming, they're coming!" the blind man was not in a very secure position, and was sitting at his ease, not knowing how close the rakshas were. the consequence was, that when the deaf man gave him this unexpected push, he lost his balance and tumbled down on to the neck of the seventh rakshas, who was just then climbing up. the blind man had no idea where he was, but thought he had got on to the branch of some other tree; and, stretching out his hand for something to catch hold of, caught hold of the rakshas's two great ears, and pinched them very hard in his surprise and fright. the rakshas couldn't think what it was that had come tumbling down upon him; and the weight of the blind man upsetting his balance, down he also fell to the ground, knocking down in their turn the sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second, and first rakshas, who all rolled one over another, and lay in a confused heap at the foot of the tree together. meanwhile the blind man called out to his friend: "where am i? what has happened? where am i? where am i?" the deaf man (who was safe up in the tree) answered: "well done, brother! never fear! never fear! you're all right, only hold on tight. i'm coming down to help you." but he had not the least intention of leaving his place of safety. however, he continued to call out: "never mind, brother; hold on as tight as you can. i'm coming, i'm coming," and the more he called out, the harder the blind man pinched the rakshas's ears, which he mistook for some kind of palm branches. the six other rakshas, who had succeeded, after a good deal of kicking, in extricating themselves from their unpleasant position, thought they had had quite enough of helping their friend, and ran away as fast as they could; and the seventh, thinking from their going that the danger must be greater than he imagined, and being, moreover, very much afraid of the mysterious creature that sat on his shoulders, put his hands to the back of his ears and pushed off the blind man, and then, (without staying to see who or what he was) followed his six companions as fast as he could. as soon as all the rakshas were out of sight, the deaf man came down from the tree, and, picking up the blind man, embraced him, saying: "i could not have done better myself. you have frightened away all our enemies, but you see i came to help you as fast as possible." he then dragged the donkey and the bundles of treasure out of the bushes, gave the blind man one bundle to carry, took the second himself, and put the remaining two on the donkey, as before. this done, the whole party set off to return home. but when they had got nearly out of the jungle the deaf man said to the blind man: "we are now close to the village; but if we take all this treasure home with us, we shall run great risk of being robbed. i think our best plan would be to divide it equally; then you can take care of your half and i will take care of mine, and each one can hide his share here in the jungle, or wherever pleases him best." "very well," said the blind man; "do you divide what we have in the bundles into two equal portions, keeping one half yourself and giving me the other." the cunning deaf man, however, had no intention of giving up half of the treasure to the blind man; so he first took his own bundle of treasure and hid it in the bushes, and then he took the two bundles off the donkey and hid them in the bushes; and he took a good deal of treasure out of the blind man's bundle, which he also hid. then, taking the small quantity that remained, he divided it into two equal portions, and placing half before the blind man and half in front of himself, said: "there, brother, is your share to do what you please with." the blind man put out his hand, but when he felt what a very little heap of treasure it was, he got very angry, and cried: "this is not fair--you are deceiving me; you have kept almost all the treasure for yourself and only given me a very little." "oh, oh! how can you think so?" answered the deaf man; "but if you will not believe me, feel for yourself. see, my heap of treasure is no larger than yours." the blind man put out his hands again to feel how much his friend had kept; but in front of the deaf man lay only a very small heap, no larger than what he had himself received. at this he got very cross, and said: "come, come, this won't do. you think you can cheat me in this way because i am blind; but i'm not so stupid as all that, i carried a great bundle of treasure, you carried a great bundle of treasure, and there were two great bundles on the donkey. do you mean to pretend that all that made no more treasure than these two little heaps! no, indeed; i know better than that." "stuff and nonsense!" answered the deaf man. "stuff or no stuff," continued the other, "you are trying to take me in, and i won't be taken in by you." "no, i'm not," said the deaf man. "yes, you are," said the blind man; and so they went on bickering, scolding, growling, contradicting, until the blind man got so enraged that he gave the deaf man a tremendous box on the ear. the blow was so violent that it made the deaf man hear! the deaf man, very angry, gave his neighbor in return so hard a blow in the face that it opened the blind man's eyes! so the deaf man could hear as well as see, and the blind man could see as well as hear! this astonished them both so much that they became good friends at once. the deaf man confessed to have hidden the bulk of the treasure, which he thereupon dragged forth from its place of concealment, and having divided it equally, they went home and enjoyed themselves. harisarman there was in a certain village, a certain brahman named harisarman. he was poor and foolish and unhappy for want of employment, and he had very many children. he wandered about begging with his family, and at last he reached a certain city, and entered the service of a rich householder called sthuladatta. his sons became keepers of sthuladatta's cows and other property, and his wife a servant to him, and he himself lived near his house, performing the duty of an attendant. one day there was a feast on account of the marriage of the daughter of sthuladatta, largely attended by many friends of the bridegroom and merry-makers. harisarman hoped that he would be able to fill himself up to the throat with oil and flesh and other dainties, and get the same for his family, in the house of his patron. while he was anxiously expecting to be fed, no one thought of him. then he was distressed at getting nothing to eat, and he said to his wife at night: "it is owing to my poverty and stupidity that i am treated with such disrespect here; so i will pretend by means of an artifice to possess a knowledge of magic, so that i may become an object of respect to this sthuladatta; so, when you get an opportunity, tell him that i possess magical knowledge." he said this to her, and after turning the matter over in his mind, while people were asleep he took away from the house of sthuladatta a horse on which his master's son-in-law rode. he placed it in concealment at some distance, and in the morning the friends of the bridegroom could not find the horse, though they searched in every direction. then, while sthuladatta was distressed at the evil omen, and searching for the thieves who had carried off the horse, the wife of harisarman came and said to him: "my husband is a wise man, skilled in astrology and magical sciences; he can get the horse back for you--why do you not ask him?" when sthuladatta heard that, he called harisarman, who said, "yesterday i was forgotten, but to-day, now the horse is stolen, i am called to mind;" and sthuladatta then propitiated the brahman with these words: "i forgot you, forgive me," and asked him to tell him who had taken away their horse. then harisarman drew all kinds of pretended diagrams, and said: "the horse has been placed by thieves on the boundary line south from this place. it is concealed there, and before it is carried off to a distance, as it will be at close of day, go quickly and bring it." when they heard that, many men ran and brought the horse quickly, praising the discernment of harisarman. then harisarman was honored by all men as a sage, and dwelt there in happiness, honored by sthuladatta. now, as days went on, much treasure, both of gold and jewels, had been stolen by a thief from the palace of the king. as the thief was not known, the king quickly summoned harisarman on account of his reputation for knowledge of magic. and he, when summoned, tried to gain time, and said: "i will tell you to-morrow," and then he was placed in a chamber by the king and carefully guarded. and he was sad because he had pretended to have knowledge. now, in that palace there was a maid named jihva (which means tongue), who, with the assistance of her brother, had stolen that treasure from the interior of the palace. she, being alarmed at harisarman's knowledge, went at night and applied her ear to the door of that chamber in order to find out what he was about. and harisarman, who was alone inside, was at that very moment blaming his own tongue, that had made a vain assumption of knowledge. he said: "oh, tongue, what is this that you have done through your greediness? wicked one, you will soon receive punishment in full." when jihva heard this, she thought, in her terror, that she had been discovered by this wise man, and she managed to get in where he was, and, falling at his feet, she said to the supposed wizard: "brahman, here i am, that jihva whom you have discovered to be the thief of the treasure, and after i took it i buried it in the earth in a garden behind the palace, under a pomegranate tree. so spare me, and receive the small quantity of gold which is in my possession." when harisarman heard that, he said to her proudly: "depart, i know all this; i know the past, present, and future, but i will not denounce you, a miserable creature that has implored my protection. but whatever gold is in your possession you must give back to me." when he said this to the maid, she consented, and departed quickly. but harisarman reflected in his astonishment: "fate brings about, as if in sport, things impossible; for, when calamity was so near, who would have thought chance would have brought us success? while i was blaming my jihva, the thief jihva suddenly flung herself at my feet. secret crimes manifest themselves by means of fear." thus thinking, he passed the night happily in the chamber. and in the morning he brought the king, by some skilful parade of pretended knowledge, into the garden and led him up to the treasure, which was buried under the pomegranate tree, and said the thief had escaped with a part of it. then the king was pleased, and gave him the revenue of many villages. but the minister, named devajnanin, whispered in the king's ear: "how can a man possess such knowledge unattainable by men without having studied the books of magic? you may be certain that this is a specimen of the way he makes a dishonest livelihood, by having a secret intelligence with thieves. it will be much better to test him by some new artifice." then the king of his own accord brought a covered pitcher into which he had thrown a frog, and said to harisarman: "brahman, if you can guess what there is in this pitcher, i will do you great honor to-day." when the brahman harisarman heard that, he thought that his last hour had come, and he called to mind the pet name of "froggie," which his father had given him in his childhood in sport; and, impelled by luck, he called to himself by his pet name, lamenting his hard fate, and suddenly called out: "this is a fine pitcher for you, froggie; it will soon become the swift destroyer of your helpless self." the people there, when they heard him say that, raised a shout of applause, because his speech chimed in so well with the object presented to him, and murmured: "ah! a great sage; he knows even about the frog!" then the king, thinking that this was all due to knowledge of divination, was highly delighted, and gave harisarman the revenue of more villages, with gold, an umbrella, and state carriages of all kinds. so harisarman prospered in the world. why the fish laughed as a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace crying her fish, the queen appeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show what she had. at that moment a very big fish jumped about in the bottom of the basket. "is it a he or a she?" inquired the queen. "i wish to purchase a she-fish." on hearing this the fish laughed aloud. "it's a he," replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds. the queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see her in the evening, the king noticed that something had disturbed her. "are you indisposed?" he said. "no; but i am very much annoyed at the strange behavior of a fish. a woman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male or female, the fish laughed most rudely." "a fish laugh! impossible! you must be dreaming." "i am not a fool. i speak of what i have seen with my own eyes and have heard with my own ears." "passing strange! be it so. i will inquire concerning it." on the morrow the king repeated to his vizier what his wife had told him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a satisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. the vizier promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. for five months he labored indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter of the fish. he sought everywhere and from every one. the wise and learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of trickery, were consulted. nobody, however, could explain the matter; and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient experience of the king to know that his majesty would not go back from his threat. among other things, he advised his son to travel for a time, until the king's anger should have somewhat cooled. the young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off whithersoever fate might lead him. he had been gone some days, when he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain village. finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. the old farmer agreed, and they walked along together. the day was hot, and the way was long and weary. "don't you think it would be pleasanter if you and i sometimes gave each other a lift?" said the youth. "what a fool the man is!" thought the old farmer. presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle, and looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze. "is this eaten or not?" said the young man. not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, "i don't know." after a little while the two travelers arrived at a big village, where the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, "take this, friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back, for it is very precious." the old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a fool himself, or else trying to play the fool with him. the young man pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till they reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old farmer's house. they walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque, but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest. "what a large cemetery!" exclaimed the young man. "what does the man mean," thought the old farmer, "calling this largely populated city a cemetery?" on leaving the city their way led through a graveyard where a few people were praying beside a tomb and distributing _chapatis_ and _kulchas_ to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. they beckoned to the two travelers and gave them as much as they would. "what a splendid city this is!" said the young man. "now, the man must surely be demented!" thought the old farmer. "i wonder what he will do next? he will be calling the land water, and the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and of darkness when it is light." however, he kept his thoughts to himself. presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of the cemetery. the water was rather deep, so the old farmer took off his shoes and pajamas and crossed over; but the young man waded through it with his shoes and pajamas on. "well! i never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed," said the old man to himself. however, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his wife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as long as he had occasion to remain in the village. "thank you very much," the young man replied; "but let me first inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong." the old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing. "there is a man in yonder field," he said, after returning their greetings. "he has come the greater part of the way with me, and i wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village. but the fellow is such a fool that i cannot make anything out of him. he wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. the man must be mad!" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter. "father," said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise girl, "this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. he only wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him." "oh, of course," replied the farmer. "i see. well, perhaps you can help me to solve some of his other mysteries. while we were walking together he asked whether he should carry me or i should carry him, as he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding." "most assuredly," said the girl; "he meant that one of you should tell a story to beguile the time." "oh yes. well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me whether it was eaten or not." "and didn't you know the meaning of this, father? he simply wished to know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors." "yes, yes, yes, of course! then, on entering a certain village, he bade me take his clasp-knife and get two horses with it, and bring back the knife to him." "are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along on the road? he only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be careful not to lose his knife." "i see," said the farmer. "while we were walking over the city we did not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some people called to us and put into our hands some _chapatis_ and _kulchas_, so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city." "this also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable people as worse than the dead. the city, though crowded with people, was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery, which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and provided with bread." "true, true!" said the astonished farmer. "then, just now, when we were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his shoes and pajamas." "i admire his wisdom," replied the girl. "i have often thought how stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and over those sharp stones with bare feet. the slightest stumble and they would fall, and be wetted from head to foot. this friend of yours is a most wise man. i should like to see him and speak to him." "very well," said the farmer; "i will go and find him, and bring him in." "tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will come in. i'll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we can afford to have him for our guest." accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a present of a basin of _ghee_, twelve _chapatis_, and a jar of milk, and the following message: "o friend, the moon is full; twelve months make a year, and the sea is overflowing with water." half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son, who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some of the food. his father foolishly complied. presently he saw the young man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message. "give your mistress my salaam," he replied, "and tell her that the moon is new, and that i can find only eleven months in the year, and the sea is by no means full." not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated them word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus his theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. after a little while the young man appeared with the old farmer. great attention was shown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. at length he told them everything--about the laughing of the fish, his father's threatened execution, and his own banishment--and asked their advice as to what he should do. "the laughing of the fish," said the girl, "which seems to have been the cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the palace who is plotting against the king's life." "joy, joy!" exclaimed the vizier's son. "there is yet time for me to return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and the king from danger." the following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him the farmer's daughter. immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and informed his father of what he had heard. the poor vizier, now almost dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the king, to whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought. "never!" said the king. "but it must be so, your majesty," replied the vizier; "and in order to prove the truth of what i have heard, i pray you to call together all the maids in your palace and order them to jump over a pit, which must be dug. we'll soon find out whether there is any man there." the king had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the palace to try to jump over it. all of them tried, but only one succeeded. that one was found to be a man! thus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved. afterward, as soon as could be, the vizier's son married the old farmer's daughter; and a most happy marriage it was. muchie lal adapted by m. frere once upon a time there were a rajah and ranee who had no children. long had they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but it was all in vain--their prayers were not granted. one day a number of fish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for the rajah's dinner, and amongst them was one little fish that was not dead, but all the rest were dead. one of the palace maid-servants, seeing this, took the little fish and put him in a basin of water. shortly afterward the ranee saw him, and thinking him very pretty, kept him as a pet; and because she had no children she lavished all her affection on the fish and loved him as a son; and the people called him muchie rajah (the fish prince). in a little while muchie rajah had grown too long to live in the small basin, so they put him into a larger one, and then (when he grew too long for that) into a big tub. in time, however, muchie rajah became too large for even the big tub to hold him; so the ranee had a tank made for him, in which he lived very happily, and twice a day she fed him with boiled rice. now, though the people fancied muchie rajah was only a fish, this was not the case. he was, in truth, a young rajah who had angered the gods, and been by them turned into a fish and thrown into the river as a punishment. one morning, when the ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice, muchie rajah called out to her and said, "queen mother, queen mother, i am so lonely here all by myself! cannot you get me a wife?" the ranee promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew, to ask if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the fish prince. but they all answered: "we cannot give one of our dear little daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the muchie rajah and so high in your majesty's favor." at news of this the ranee did not know what to do. she was so foolishly fond of muchie rajah, however, that she resolved to get him a wife at any cost. again she sent out messengers, but this time she gave them a great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs, and said to them: "go into every land until you find a wife for my muchie rajah, and to whoever will give you a child to be the muchie ranee you shall give this bag of gold mohurs." the messengers started on their search, but for some time they were unsuccessful; not even the beggars were to be tempted to sell their children, fearing the great fish would devour them. at last one day the messengers came to a village where there lived a fakeer, who had lost his first wife and married again. his first wife had had one little daughter, and his second wife also had a daughter. as it happened, the fakeer's second wife hated her little stepdaughter, always gave her the hardest work to do and the least food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to get her out of the way, in order that the child might not rival her own daughter. when she heard of the errand on which the messengers had come, she sent for them when the fakeer was out, and said to them: "give me the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little daughter to marry the muchie rajah." ("for," she thought to herself, "the great fish will certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble us no more.") then, turning to her stepdaughter, she said: "go down to the river and wash your _saree_, that you may be fit to go with these people, who will take you to the ranee's court." at these words the poor girl went down to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of escape, as her father was from home. as she knelt by the river-side, washing her _saree_ and crying bitterly, some of her tears fell into the hole of an old seven-headed cobra, who lived on the river-bank. this cobra was a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his head out of his hole, and said to her: "little girl, why do you cry?" "oh, sir," she answered, "i am very unhappy; for my father is from home, and my stepmother has sold me to the ranee's people to be the wife of the muchie rajah, that great fish, and i know he will eat me up." "do not be afraid, my daughter," said the cobra; "but take with you these three stones and tie them up in the corner of your _saree_;" and so saying, he gave her three little round pebbles. "the muchie rajah, whose wife you are to be, is not really a fish, but a rajah who has been enchanted. your home will be a little room which the ranee has had built in the tank wall. when you are taken there, wait and be sure you don't go to sleep, or the muchie rajah will certainly come and eat you up. but as you hear him coming rushing through the water, be prepared, and as soon as you see him, throw this first stone at him; he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. the second time he comes, throw the second stone, when the same thing will happen. the third time he comes, throw this third stone, and he will immediately resume his human shape." so saying, the old cobra dived down again into his hole. the fakeer's daughter took the stones and determined to do as the cobra had told her, though she hardly believed it would have the desired effect. when she reached the palace the ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to the messengers: "you have done your errand well; this is a dear little girl." then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the tank in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her. when the fakeer's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen such a pretty place in her life (for the ranee had caused the little room to be very nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite); and she would have felt very happy away from her cruel stepmother and all the hard work she had been made to do, had it not been for the dark water that lay black and unfathomable below the door and the fear of the terrible muchie rajah. after waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves came dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and the noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head above the water--muchie rajah was coming toward her open-mouthed. the fakeer's daughter seized one of the stones that the cobra had given her and threw it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank; a second time he rose and came toward her, and she threw the second stone at him, and he again sank down; a third time he came more fiercely than before, when, seizing a third stone, she threw it with all her force. no sooner did it touch him than the spell was broken, and there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome young prince. the poor little fakeer's daughter was so startled that she began to cry. but the prince said to her: "pretty maiden, do not be frightened. you have rescued me from a horrible thraldom, and i can never thank you enough; but if you will be the muchie ranee, we will be married to-morrow." then he sat down on the doorstep, thinking over his strange fate and watching for the dawn. next morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the muchie rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he would; what was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall, to see, not the muchie rajah, but a magnificent prince! the news soon spread to the palace. down came the rajah, down came the ranee, down came all their attendants, and dragged muchie rajah and the fakeer's daughter up the side of the tank in a basket; and when they heard their story there were great and unparalleled rejoicings. the ranee said, "so i have indeed found a son at last!" and the people were so delighted, so happy and so proud of the new prince and princess, that they covered all their path with damask from the tank to the palace, and cried to their fellows, "come and see our new prince and princess! were ever any so divinely beautiful? come see a right royal couple,--a pair of mortals like the gods!" and when they reached the palace the prince was married to the fakeer's daughter. there they lived very happily for some time. the muchie ranee's stepmother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her stepdaughter, and pretended to be delighted at her good fortune; and the ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her stepmother's former cruelty, and always received her very kindly. at last, one day, the muchie ranee said to her husband, "it is a weary while since i saw my father. if you will give me leave, i should much like to visit my native village and see him again." "very well," he replied, "you may go. but do not stay away long; for there can be no happiness for me till you return." so she went, and her father was delighted to see her; but her stepmother, though she pretended to be very kind, was in reality only glad to think she had got the ranee into her power, and determined, if possible, never to allow her to return to the palace again. one day, therefore, she said to her own daughter, "it is hard that your stepsister should have become ranee of all the land instead of being eaten up by the great fish, while we gained no more than a lac of gold mohurs. do now as i bid you, that you may become ranee in her stead." she then went on to instruct her that she must invite the ranee down to the river-bank, and there beg her to let her try on her jewels, and while putting them on give her a push and drown her in the river. the girl consented, and standing by the river-bank, said to her stepsister, "sister, may i try on your jewels?--how pretty they are!" "yes," said the ranee, "and we shall be able to see in the river how they look." so, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them round the other's neck. but while she was doing so her stepsister gave her a push, and she fell backward into the water. the girl watched to see that the body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her mother, "mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no more." but it happened that just when her stepsister pushed the ranee into the river her old friend the seven-headed cobra chanced to be swimming across it, and seeing the little ranee likely to be drowned, he carried her on his back until he reached his hole, into which he took her safely. now this hole, in which the cobra and his wife and all his little ones lived, had two entrances,--the one under the water and leading to the river, and the other above water, leading out into the open fields. to this upper end of his hole the cobra took the muchie ranee, where he and his wife took care of her; and there she lived with them for some time. meanwhile, the wicked fakeer's wife, having dressed up her own daughter in all the ranee's jewels, took her to the palace, and said to the muchie rajah, "see, i have brought your wife, my dear daughter, back safe and well." the rajah looked at her, and thought, "this does not look like my wife." however, the room was dark and the girl was cleverly disguised, and he thought he might be mistaken. next day he said again: "my wife must be sadly changed or this cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. she had pretty loving ways and merry words, while this woman never opens her lips." still, he did not like to seem to mistrust his wife, and comforted himself by saying, "perhaps she is tired with the long journey." on the third day, however, he could bear the uncertainty no longer, and tearing off her jewels, saw, not the face of his own little wife, but another woman. then he was very angry and turned her out of doors, saying, "begone; since you are but the wretched tool of others, i spare your life." but of the fakeer's wife he said to his guards, "fetch that woman here instantly; for unless she can tell me where my wife is, i will have her hanged." it chanced, however, that the fakeer's wife had heard of the muchie rajah having turned her daughter out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was not to be found. meantime, the muchie ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to live in the great seven-headed cobra's hole, and he and his wife and all his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been one of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him muchie lal, after the muchie rajah, his father. muchie lal was a lovely child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the young cobras. when he was about three years old a bangle-seller came by that way, and the muchie ranee bought some bangles from him and put them on her boy's wrists and ankles; but by the next day, in playing, he had broke them all. then, seeing the bangle-seller, the ranee called him again and bought some more, and so on every day until the bangle-seller got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the muchie lal; for the cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the muchie ranee as much money to spend every day as she liked. there was nothing she wished for he did not give her, only he would not let her try to get home to her husband, which she wished more than all. when she asked him he would say: "no, i will not let you go. if your husband comes here and fetches you, it is well; but i will not allow you to wander in search of him through the land alone." and so she was obliged to stay where she was. all this time the poor muchie rajah was hunting in every part of the country for his wife, but he could learn no tidings of her. for grief and sorrow at losing her he had gone almost distracted, and did nothing but wander from place to place, crying, "she is gone! she is gone!" then, when he had long inquired without avail of all the people in her native village about her, he one day met a bangle-seller and said to him, "whence do you come?" the bangle-seller answered, "i have just been selling bangles to some people who live in a cobra's hole in the river-bank." "people! what people?" asked the rajah. "why," answered the bangle-seller, "a woman and a child; the child is the most beautiful i ever saw. he is about three years old, and of course, running about, is always breaking his bangles and his mother buys him new ones every day." "do you know what the child's name is?" said the rajah. "yes," answered the bangle-seller carelessly, "for the lady always calls him her muchie lal." "ah," thought the muchie rajah, "this must be my wife." then he said to him again, "good bangle-seller, i would see these strange people of whom you speak; cannot you take me there?" "not to-night," replied the bangle-seller; "daylight has gone, and we should only frighten them; but i shall be going there again to-morrow, and then you may come too. meanwhile, come and rest at my house for the night, for you look faint and weary." the rajah consented. next morning, however, very early, he woke the bangle-seller, saying, "pray let us go now and see the people you spoke about yesterday." "stay," said the bangle-seller; "it is much too early. i never go till after breakfast." so the rajah had to wait till the bangle-seller was ready to go. at last they started off, and when they reached the cobra's hole the first thing the rajah saw was a fine little boy playing with the young cobras. as the bangle-seller came along, jingling his bangles, a gentle voice from inside the hole called out, "come here, my muchie lal, and try on your bangles." then the muchie rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of the hole, said, "oh, lady, show your beautiful face to me." at the sound of his voice the ranee ran out, crying, "husband, husband! have you found me again?" and she told him how her sister had tried to drown her, and how the good cobra had saved her life and taken care of her and her child. then he said, "and will you now come home with me?" and she told him how the cobra would never let her go, and said, "i will first tell him of your coming; for he has been a father to me." so she called out, "father cobra, father cobra, my husband has come to fetch me; will you let me go?" "yes," he said, "if your husband has come to fetch you, you may go." and his wife said, "farewell, dear lady, we are loath to lose you, for we have loved you as a daughter." and all the little cobras were very sorrowful to think that they must lose their playfellow, the young prince. then the cobra gave the muchie rajah and the muchie ranee and muchie lal all the most costly gifts he could find in his treasure-house; and so they went home, where they lived very happy ever after. how the rajah's son won the princess labam adapted by joseph jacobs in a country there was a rajah who had an only son who every day went out to hunt. one day the ranee his mother, said to him, "you can hunt wherever you like on these three sides; but you must never go to the fourth side." this she said because she knew if he went on the fourth side he would hear of the beautiful princess labam, and that then he would leave his father and mother and seek for the princess. the young prince listened to his mother, and obeyed her for some time; but one day, when he was hunting on the three sides where he was allowed to go, he remembered what she had said to him about the fourth side, and he determined to go and see why she had forbidden him to hunt on that side. when he got there, he found himself in a jungle, and nothing in the jungle but a quantity of parrots, who lived in it. the young rajah shot at some of them, and at once they all flew away up to the sky. all, that is, but one, and this was their rajah, who was called hiraman parrot. when hiraman parrot found himself left alone, he called out to the other parrots, "don't fly away and leave me alone when the rajah's son shoots. if you desert me like this, i will tell the princess labam." then the parrots all flew back to their rajah, chattering. the prince was greatly surprised, and said, "why, these birds can talk!" then he said to the parrots, "who is the princess labam? where does she live?" but the parrots would not tell him where she lived. "you can never get to the princess labam's country." that is all they would say. the prince grew very sad when they would not tell him anything more; and he threw his gun away and went home. when he got home, he would not speak or eat, but lay on his bed for four or five days, and seemed very ill. at last he told his father and mother that he wanted to go and see the princess labam. "i must go," he said; "i must see what she is like. tell me where her country is." "we do not know where it is," answered his father and mother. "then i must go and look for it," said the prince. "no, no," they said, "you must not leave us. you are our only son. stay with us. you will never find the princess labam." "i must try and find her," said the prince. "perhaps god will show me the way. if i live and i find her, i will come back to you; but perhaps i shall die, and then i shall never see you again. still i must go." so they had to let him go, though they cried very much at parting with him. his father gave him fine clothes to wear, and a fine horse. and he took his gun, and his bow and arrows, and a great many other weapons; "for," he said, "i may want them." his father, too, gave him plenty of rupees. then he himself got his horse all ready for the journey, and he said good-by to his father and mother; and his mother took her handkerchief and wrapped some sweetmeats in it, and gave it to her son. "my child," she said to him, "when you are hungry eat some of these sweetmeats." he then set out on his journey, and rode on and on till he came to a jungle in which were a tank and shady trees. he bathed himself and his horse in the tank, and then sat down under a tree. "now," he said to himself, "i will eat some of the sweetmeats my mother gave me, and i will drink some water, and then i will continue my journey." he opened his handkerchief and took out a sweetmeat. he found an ant in it. he took out another. there was an ant in that one too. so he laid the two sweetmeats on the ground, and he took out another, and another, and another, until he had taken them all out; but in each he found an ant. "never mind," he said, "i won't eat the sweetmeats; the ants shall eat them." then the ant-rajah came and stood before him and said, "you have been good to us. if ever you are in trouble, think of me and we will come to you." the rajah's son thanked him, mounted his horse and continued his journey. he rode on and on until he came to another jungle, and there he saw a tiger who had a thorn in his foot, and was roaring loudly from the pain. "why do you roar like that?" said the young rajah. "what is the matter with you?" "i have had a thorn in my foot for twelve years," answered the tiger, "and it hurts me so; that is why i roar." "well," said the rajah's son, "i will take it out for you. but perhaps, as you are a tiger, when i have made you well, you will eat me?" "oh no," said the tiger, "i won't eat you. do make me well." then the prince took a little knife from his pocket and cut the thorn out of the tiger's foot; but when he cut, the tiger roared louder than ever--so loud that his wife heard him in the next jungle, and came bounding along to see what was the matter. the tiger saw her coming, and hid the prince in the jungle, so that she should not see him. "what man hurt you that you roared so loud?" said the wife. "no one hurt me," answered the husband; "but a rajah's son came and took the thorn out of my foot." "where is he? show him to me," said his wife. "if you promise not to kill him, i will call him," said the tiger. "i won't kill him; only let me see him," answered his wife. then the tiger called the rajah's son, and when he came the tiger and his wife made him a great many salaams. then they gave him a good dinner, and he stayed with them for three days. every day he looked at the tiger's foot, and the third day it was quite healed. then he said good-by to the tigers, and the tiger said to him, "if ever you are in trouble, think of me, and we will come to you." the rajah's son rode on and on till he came to a third jungle. here he found four fakeers whose teacher and master had died, and had left four things,--a bed, which carried whoever sat on it whithersoever he wished to go; a bag, that gave its owner whatever he wanted, jewels, food or clothes; a stone bowl that gave its owner as much water as he wanted, no matter how far he might be from a tank; and a stick and rope, to which its owner had only to say, if any one came to make war on him, "stick, beat as many men and soldiers as are here," and the stick would beat them and the rope would tie them up. the four fakeers were quarreling over these four things. one said, "i want this;" another said, "you cannot have it, for i want it;" and so on. the rajah's son said to them, "do not quarrel for these things. i will shoot four arrows in four different directions. whichever of you gets to my first arrow, shall have the first thing--the bed. whosoever gets to the second arrow, shall have the second thing--the bag. he who gets to the third arrow, shall have the third thing--the bowl. and he who gets to the fourth arrow, shall have the last things--the stick and rope." to this they agreed. and the prince shot off his first arrow. away raced the fakeers to get it. when they brought it back to him he shot off the second, and when they had found and brought it to him he shot off his third, and when they had brought him the third he shot off the fourth. while they were away looking for the fourth arrow the rajah's son let his horse loose in the jungle and sat on the bed, taking the bowl, the stick and rope, and the bag with him. then he said, "bed, i wish to go to the princess labam's country." the little bed instantly rose up into the air and began to fly, and it flew and flew till it came to the princess labam's country, where it settled on the ground. the rajah's son asked some men he saw, "whose country is this?" "the princess labam's country," they answered. then the prince went on till he came to a house where he saw an old woman. "who are you?" she said. "where do you come from?" "i come from a far country," he said; "do let me stay with you to-night." "no," she answered, "i cannot let you stay with me; for our king has ordered that men from other countries may not stay in his country. you cannot stay in my house." "you are my aunty," said the prince; "let me remain with you for this one night. you see it is evening, and if i go into the jungle, then the wild beasts will eat me." "well," said that old woman, "you may stay here to-night; but to-morrow morning you must go away, for if the king hears you have passed the night in my house, he will have me seized and put into prison." then she took him into her house, and the rajah's son was very glad. the old woman began preparing dinner, but he stopped her. "aunty," he said, "i will give you food." he put his hand into his bag, saying, "bag, i want some dinner," and the bag gave him instantly a delicious dinner, served up on two gold plates. the old woman and the rajah's son then dined together. when they had finished eating, the old woman said, "now i will fetch some water." "don't go," said the prince. "you shall have plenty of water directly." so he took his bowl and said to it, "bowl, i want some water," and then it filled with water. when it was full, the prince cried out, "stop, bowl!" and the bowl stopped filling. "see, aunty," he said, "with this bowl i can always get as much water as i want." by this time night had come. "aunty," said the rajah's son, "why don't you light a lamp?" "there is no need," she said. "our king has forbidden the people in his country to light any lamps; for, as soon as it is dark, his daughter, the princess labam, comes and sits on her roof, and she shines so that she lights up all the country and our houses, and we can see to do our work as if it were day." when it was quite black night the princess got up. she dressed herself in her rich clothes and jewels, and rolled up her hair, and across her head she put a band of diamonds and pearls. then she shone like the moon and her beauty made night day. she came out of her room and sat on the roof of her palace. in the daytime she never came out of her house; she only came out at night. all the people in her father's country then went about their work and finished it. the rajah's son, watched the princess quietly, and was very happy. he said to himself, "how lovely she is!" at midnight, when everybody had gone to bed, the princess came down from her roof and went to her room; and when she was in bed and asleep, the rajah's son got up softly and sat on his bed. "bed," he said to it, "i want to go to the princess labam's bed-room." so the little bed carried him to the room where she lay fast asleep. the young rajah took his bag and said, "i want a great deal of betel-leaf," and it at once gave him quantities of betel-leaf. this he laid near the princess's bed, and then his little bed carried him back to the old woman's house. next morning all the princess's servants found the betel-leaf, and began to eat it. "where did you get all that betel-leaf?" asked the princess. "we found it near your bed," answered the servants. nobody knew the prince had come in the night and put it all there. in the morning the old woman came to the rajah's son. "now it is morning," she said, "and you must go; for if the king finds out all i have done for you, he will seize me." "i am ill to-day, dear aunty," said the prince; "do let me stay till to-morrow morning." "good," said the old woman. so he stayed, and they took their dinner out of the bag, and the bowl gave them water. [illustration: the princess labam ... shines so that she lights up all the country.] when night came the princess got up and sat on her roof, and at twelve o'clock, when every one was in bed, she went to her bed-room, and was soon fast asleep. then the rajah's son sat on his bed, and it carried him to the princess. he took his bag and said, "bag, i want a most lovely shawl." it gave him a splendid shawl, and he spread it over the princess as she lay asleep. then he went back to the old woman's house and slept till morning. in the morning, when the princess saw the shawl she was delighted. "see, mother," she said; "khuda must have given me this shawl, it is so beautiful." her mother was very glad too. "yes, my child," she said; "khuda must have given you this splendid shawl." when it was morning the old woman said to the rajah's son, "now you must really go." "aunty," he answered, "i am not well enough yet. let me stay a few days longer. i will remain hidden in your house, so that no one may see me." so the old woman let him stay. when it was black night, the princess put on her lovely clothes and jewels and sat on her roof. at midnight she went to her room and went to sleep. then the rajah's son sat on his bed and flew to her bed-room. there he said to his bag, "bag, i want a very, very beautiful ring." the bag gave him a glorious ring. then he took the princess labam's hand gently to put on the ring, and she started up very much frightened. "who are you?" she said to the prince. "where do you come from? why do you come to my room?" "do not be afraid, princess," he said; "i am no thief. i am a great rajah's son. hiraman parrot, who lives in the jungle where i went to hunt, told me your name, and then i left my father and mother and came to see you." "well," said the princess, "as you are the son of such a great rajah, i will not have you killed, and i will tell my father and mother that i wish to marry you." the prince then returned to the old woman's house; and when morning came the princess said to her mother, "the son of a great rajah has come to this country, and i wish to marry him." her mother told this to the king. "good," said the king; "but if this rajah's son wishes to marry my daughter, he must first do whatever i bid him. if he fails i will kill him. i will give him eighty pounds weight of mustard seed, and out of this he must crush the oil in one day. if he cannot do this he shall die." in the morning the rajah's son told the old woman that he intended to marry the princess. "oh," said the old woman, "go away from this country, and do not think of marrying her. a great many rajahs and rajahs' sons have come here to marry her, and her father has had them all killed. he says whoever wishes to marry his daughter must first do whatever he bids him. if he can, then he shall marry the princess; if he cannot, the king will have him killed. but no one can do the things the king tells him to do; so all the rajahs and rajahs' sons who have tried have been put to death. you will be killed too, if you try. do go away." but the prince would not listen to anything she said. the king sent for the prince to the old woman's house, and his servants brought the rajah's son to the king's court-house to the king. there the king gave him eighty pounds of mustard seed, and told him to crush all the oil out of it that day, and bring it next morning to him to the court-house. "whoever wishes to marry my daughter," he said to the prince, "must first do all i tell him. if he cannot, then i have him killed. so if you cannot crush all the oil out of this mustard seed you will die." the prince was very sorry when he heard this. "how can i crush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day?" he said to himself; "and if i do not, the king will kill me." he took the mustard seed to the old woman's house, and did not know what to do. at last he remembered the ant-rajah, and the moment he did so, the ant-rajah and his ants came to him. "why do you look so sad?" said the ant-rajah. the prince showed him the mustard seed, and said to him, "how can i crush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day? and if i do not take the oil to the king to-morrow morning, he will kill me." "be happy," said the ant-rajah; "lie down and sleep; we will crush all the oil out for you during the day, and to-morrow morning you shall take it to the king." the rajah's son lay down and slept, and the ants crushed out the oil for him. the prince was very glad when he saw the oil. the next morning he took it to the court-house to the king. but the king said, "you cannot yet marry my daughter. if you wish to do so, you must fight with my two demons, and kill them." the king a long time ago had caught two demons, and then, as he did not know what to do with them, he had shut them up in a cage. he was afraid to let them loose for fear they would eat up all the people in his country; and he did not know how to kill them. so all the rajahs and rajahs' sons who wanted to marry the princess labam had to fight with these demons; "for," said the king to himself, "perhaps the demons may be killed, and then i shall be rid of them." when he heard of the demons the rajah's son was very sad. "what can i do?" he said to himself. "how can i fight with these two demons?" then he thought of his tiger: and the tiger and his wife came to him and said, "why are you so sad?" the rajah's son answered, "the king has ordered me to fight with his two demons and kill them. how can i do this?" "do not be frightened," said the tiger. "be happy. i and my wife will fight with them for you." then the rajah's son took out of his bag two splendid coats. they were all gold and silver, and covered with pearls and diamonds. these he put on the tigers to make them beautiful, and he took them to the king, and said to him, "may these tigers fight your demons for me?" "yes," said the king, who did not care in the least who killed his demons, provided they were killed. "then call your demons," said the rajah's son, "and these tigers will fight them." the king did so, and the tigers and the demons fought and fought until the tigers had killed the demons. "that is good," said the king. "but you must do something else before i give you my daughter. up in the sky i have a kettle-drum. you must go and beat it. if you cannot do this, i will kill you." the rajah's son thought of his little bed; so he went to the old woman's house and sat on his bed. "little bed," he said, "up in the sky is the king's kettle-drum. i want to go to it." the bed flew up with him, and the rajah's son beat the drum, and the king heard him. still, when he came down, the king would not give him his daughter. "you have," he said to the prince, "done the three things i told you to do; but you must do one thing more." "if i can, i will," said the rajah's son. then the king showed him the trunk of a tree that was lying near his court-house. it was a very, very thick trunk. he gave the prince a wax hatchet, and said, "to-morrow morning you must cut this trunk in two with this wax hatchet." the rajah's son went back to the old woman's house. he was very sad, and thought that now the rajah would certainly kill him. "i had his oil crushed out by the ants," he said to himself. "i had his demons killed by the tigers. my bed helped to beat this kettle-drum. but now what can i do? how can i cut that thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet?" at night he went on his bed to see the princess. "to-morrow," he said to her, "your father will kill me." "why?" asked the princess. "he has told me to cut a thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet. how can i ever do that?" said the rajah's son. "do not be afraid," said the princess; "do as i bid you, and you will cut it in two quite easily." then she pulled out a hair from her head and gave it to the prince. "to-morrow," she said, "when no one is near you, you must say to the tree-trunk, 'the princess labam commands you to let yourself be cut in two by this hair.' then stretch the hair down the edge of the wax hatchet's blade." the prince next day did exactly as the princess had told him; and the minute the hair that was stretched down the edge of the hatchet blade touched the tree-trunk it split into two pieces. the king said, "now you can marry my daughter." then the wedding took place. all the rajahs and kings of the countries round were asked to come to it, and there were great rejoicings. after a few days the bridegroom said to his bride "let us go to my father's country." the princess labam's father gave them a quantity of camels and horses and rupees and servants; and they traveled in great state to the distant country, where they lived happily. the prince always kept his bag, bowl, bed, stick and rope; only, as no one ever came to make war on him, he never needed to use the stick or rope. myths of japan the jellyfish and the monkey adapted by yei theodora ozaki long, long ago, in old japan, the kingdom of the sea was governed by a wonderful king. he was called rin jin, or the dragon king of the sea. his power was immense, for he was the ruler of all sea creatures both great and small, and in his keeping were the jewels of the ebb and flow of the tide. the jewel of the ebbing tide when thrown into the ocean caused the sea to recede from the land, and the jewel of the flowing tide made the waves to rise mountains high and to flow in upon the shore like a tidal wave. the palace of rin jin was at the bottom of the sea, and was so beautiful that no one has ever seen anything like it even in dreams. the walls were of coral, the roof of jadestone and chalcedony, and the floors were of the finest mother-of-pearl. but the dragon king, in spite of his wide-spreading kingdom, his beautiful palace and all its wonders, and his power, which none disputed throughout the whole sea, was not at all happy, for he reigned alone. at last he thought that if he married he would not only be happier, but also more powerful. so he decided to take a wife. calling all his fish retainers together, he chose several of them as ambassadors to go through the sea and seek for a young dragon princess who would be his bride. at last they returned to the palace bringing with them a lovely young dragon. her scales were of a glittering green like the wings of summer beetles, her eyes threw out glances of fire, and she was dressed in gorgeous robes. all the jewels of the sea worked in with embroidery adorned them. the king fell in love with her at once, and the wedding ceremony was celebrated with great splendor. every living thing in the sea, from the great whales down to the little shrimps, came in shoals to offer their congratulations to the bride and bridegroom and to wish them a long and prosperous life. never had there been such an assemblage or such gay festivities in the fish-world before. the train of bearers who carried the bride's possessions to her new home seemed to reach across the waves from one end of the sea to the other. each fish carried a phosphorescent lantern and was dressed in ceremonial robes, gleaming blue and pink and silver; and the waves as they rose and fell and broke that night seemed to be rolling masses of white and green fire, for the phosphorus shone with double brilliancy in honor of the event. now for a time the dragon king and his bride lived very happily. they loved each other dearly, and the bridegroom day after day took delight in showing his bride all the wonders and treasures of his coral palace, and she was never tired of wandering with him through its vast halls and gardens. life seemed to them both like a long summer's day. two months passed in this happy way, and then the dragon queen fell ill and was obliged to stay in bed. the king was sorely troubled when he saw his precious bride so ill, and at once sent for the fish doctor to come and give her some medicine. he gave special orders to the servants to nurse her carefully and to wait upon her with diligence, but in spite of all the nurses' assiduous care and the medicine that the doctor prescribed, the young queen showed no signs of recovery, but grew daily worse. then the dragon king interviewed the doctor and blamed him for not curing the queen. the doctor was alarmed at rin jin's evident displeasure, and excused his want of skill by saying that although he knew the right kind of medicine to give the invalid, it was impossible to find it in the sea. "do you mean to tell me that you can't get the medicine here?" asked the dragon king. "it is just as you say!" said the doctor. "tell me what it is you want for the queen?" demanded rin jin. "i want the liver of a live monkey!" answered the doctor. "the liver of a live monkey! of course that will be most difficult to get," said the king. "if we could only get that for the queen, her majesty would soon recover," said the doctor. "very well, that decides it; we _must_ get it somehow or other. but where are we most likely to find a monkey?" asked the king. then the doctor told the dragon king that some distance to the south there was a monkey island where a great many monkeys lived. "if only you could capture one of those monkeys?" said the doctor. "how can any of my people capture a monkey?" said the dragon king, greatly puzzled. "the monkeys live on dry land, while we live in the water; and out of our element we are quite powerless! i don't see what we can do!" "that has been my difficulty too," said the doctor. "but amongst your innumerable servants, you surely can find one who can go on shore for that express purpose!" "something must be done," said the king, and calling his chief steward he consulted him on the matter. the chief steward thought for some time, and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, said joyfully: "i know what we must do! there is the _kurage_ (jellyfish). he is certainly ugly to look at, but he is proud of being able to walk on land with his four legs like a tortoise. let us send him to the island of monkeys to catch one." the jellyfish was then summoned to the king's presence, and was told by his majesty what was required of him. the jellyfish, on being told of the unexpected mission which was to be entrusted to him, looked very troubled, and said that he had never been to the island in question, and as he had never had any experience in catching monkeys he was afraid that he would not be able to get one. "well," said the chief steward, "if you depend on your strength or dexterity you will never catch a monkey. the only way is to play a trick on one!" "how can i play a trick on a monkey? i don't know how to do it," said the perplexed jellyfish. "this is what you must do," said the wily chief steward. "when you approach the island of monkeys and meet some of them, you must try to get very friendly with one. tell him that you are a servant of the dragon king, and invite him to come and visit you and see the dragon king's palace. try and describe to him as vividly as you can the grandeur of the palace and the wonders of the sea so as to arouse his curiosity and make him long to see it all!" "but how am i to get the monkey here? you know monkeys don't swim!" said the reluctant jellyfish. "you must carry him on your back. what is the use of your shell if you can't do that!" said the chief steward. "won't he be very heavy?" queried _kurage_ again. "you mustn't mind that, for you are working for the dragon king!" replied the chief steward. "i will do my best then," said the jellyfish, and he swam away from the palace and started off towards the monkey island. swimming swiftly he reached his destination in a few hours, and was landed by a convenient wave upon the shore. on looking round he saw not far away a big pine-tree with drooping branches and on one of those branches was just what he was looking for--a live monkey. "i'm in luck!" thought the jellyfish. "now i must flatter the creature and try to entice him to come back with me to the palace, and my part will be done!" so the jellyfish slowly walked towards the pine-tree. in those ancient days the jellyfish had four legs and a hard shell like a tortoise. when he got to the pine-tree he raised his voice and said: "how do you do, mr. monkey? isn't it a lovely day?" "a very fine day," answered the monkey from the tree. "i have never seen you in this part of the world before. where have you come from and what is your name?" "my name is _kurage_ or jellyfish. i am one of the servants of the dragon king. i have heard so much of your beautiful island that i have come on purpose to see it," answered the jellyfish. "i am very glad to see you," said the monkey. "by-the-bye," said the jellyfish, "have you ever seen the palace of the dragon king of the sea where i live?" "i have often heard of it, but i have never seen it!" answered the monkey. "then you ought most surely to come. it is a great pity for you to go through life without seeing it. the beauty of the palace is beyond all description--it is certainly to my mind the most lovely place in the world," said the jellyfish. "is it so beautiful as all that?" asked the monkey in astonishment. then the jellyfish saw his chance, and went on describing to the best of his ability the beauty and grandeur of the sea king's palace, and the wonders of the garden with its curious trees of white, pink and red coral, and the still more curious fruits like great jewels hanging on the branches. the monkey grew more and more interested, and as he listened he came down the tree step by step so as not to lose a word of the wonderful story. "i have got him at last!" thought the jellyfish, but aloud he said: "mr. monkey, i must now go back. as you have never seen the palace of the dragon king, won't you avail yourself of this splendid opportunity by coming with me? i shall then be able to act as guide and show you all the sights of the sea, which will be even more wonderful to you--a land-lubber." "i should love to go," said the monkey, "but how am i to cross the water? i can't swim, as you surely know!" "there is no difficulty about that. i can carry you on my back." "that will be troubling you too much," said the monkey. "i can do it quite easily. i am stronger than i look, so you needn't hesitate," said the jellyfish, and taking the monkey on his back he stepped into the sea. "keep very still, mr. monkey," said the jellyfish. "you mustn't fall into the sea; i am responsible for your safe arrival at the king's palace." "please don't go so fast, or i am sure i shall fall off," said the monkey. thus they went along, the jellyfish skimming through the waves with the monkey sitting on his back. when they were about halfway, the jellyfish, who knew very little of anatomy, began to wonder if the monkey had his liver with him or not! "mr. monkey, tell me, have you such a thing as a liver with you?" the monkey was very much surprised at this queer question, and asked what the jellyfish wanted with a liver. "that is the most important thing of all," said the stupid jellyfish, "so as soon as i recollected it, i asked you if you had yours with you?" "why is my liver so important to you?" asked the monkey. "oh! you will learn the reason later," said the jellyfish. the monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious, and urged the jellyfish to tell him for what his liver was wanted, and ended up by appealing to his hearer's feelings by saying that he was very troubled at what he had been told. then the jellyfish, seeing how anxious the monkey looked, was sorry for him, and told everything. how the dragon queen had fallen ill, and how the doctor had said that only the liver of a live monkey would cure her, and how the dragon king had sent him to find one. "now i have done as i was told, and as soon as we arrive at the palace the doctor will want your liver, so i feel sorry for you!" said the silly jellyfish. the poor monkey was horrified when he learnt all this, and very angry at the trick played upon him. he trembled with fear at the thought of what was in store for him. but the monkey was a clever animal, and he thought it the wisest plan not to show any sign of the fear he felt, so he tried to calm himself and to think of some way by which he might escape. "the doctor means to cut me open and then take my liver out! why i shall die!" thought the monkey. at last a bright thought struck him, so he said quite cheerfully to the jellyfish: "what a pity it was, mr. jellyfish, that you did not speak of this before we left the island!" "if i had told you why i wanted you to accompany me you would certainly have refused to come," answered the jellyfish. "you are quite mistaken," said the monkey. "monkeys can very well spare a liver or two, especially when it is wanted for the dragon queen of the sea. if i had only guessed of what you were in need, i should have presented you with one without waiting to be asked. i have several livers. but the greatest pity is, that as you did not speak in time, i have left all my livers hanging on the pine-tree." "have you left your liver behind you?" asked the jellyfish. "yes," said the cunning monkey, "during the daytime i usually leave my liver hanging up on the branch of a tree, as it is very much in the way when i am climbing about from tree to tree. to-day, listening to your interesting conversation, i quite forgot it, and left it behind when i came off with you. if only you had spoken in time i should have remembered it, and should have brought it along with me!" the jellyfish was very disappointed when he heard this, for he believed every word the monkey said. the monkey was of no good without a liver. finally the jellyfish stopped and told the monkey so. "well," said the monkey, "that is soon remedied. i am really sorry to think of all your trouble; but if you will only take me back to the place where you found me, i shall soon be able to get my liver." the jellyfish did not at all like the idea of going all the way back to the island again; but the monkey assured him that if he would be so kind as to take him back he would get his very best liver, and bring it with him the next time. thus persuaded, the jellyfish turned his course towards the monkey island once more. no sooner had the jellyfish reached the shore than the sly monkey landed, and getting up into the pine-tree where the jellyfish had first seen him, he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy at being safe home again, and then looking down at the jellyfish said: "so many thanks for all the trouble you have taken! please present my compliments to the dragon king on your return!" the jellyfish wondered at this speech and the mocking tone in which it was uttered. then he asked the monkey if it wasn't his intention to come with him at once after getting his liver. the monkey replied laughingly that he couldn't afford to lose his liver; it was too precious. "but remember your promise!" pleaded the jellyfish, now very discouraged. "that promise was false, and anyhow it is now broken!" answered the monkey. then he began to jeer at the jellyfish and told him that he had been deceiving him the whole time; that he had no wish to lose his life, which he certainly would have done had he gone on to the sea king's palace to the old doctor waiting for him, instead of persuading the jellyfish to return under false pretences. "of course, i won't _give_ you my liver, but come and get it if you can!" added the monkey mockingly from the tree. there was nothing for the jellyfish to do now but to repent of his stupidity, and return to the dragon king of the sea and confess his failure, so he started sadly and slowly to swim back. the last thing he heard as he glided away, leaving the island behind him, was the monkey laughing at him. meanwhile the dragon king, the doctor, the chief steward, and all the servants were waiting impatiently for the return of the jellyfish. when they caught sight of him approaching the palace, they hailed him with delight. they began to thank him profusely for all the trouble he had taken in going to monkey island, and then they asked him where the monkey was. now the day of reckoning had come for the jellyfish. he quaked all over as he told his story. how he had brought the monkey half way over the sea, and then had stupidly let out the secret of his commission; how the monkey had deceived him by making him believe that he had left his liver behind him. the dragon king's wrath was great, and he at once gave orders that the jellyfish was to be severely punished. the punishment was a horrible one. all the bones were to be drawn out from his living body, and he was to be beaten with sticks. the poor jellyfish, humiliated and horrified beyond all words, cried out for pardon. but the dragon king's order had to be obeyed. the servants of the palace forthwith each brought out a stick and surrounded the jellyfish, and after pulling out his bones they beat him to a flat pulp, and then took him out beyond the palace gates and threw him into the water. here he was left to suffer and repent his foolish chattering, and to grow accustomed to his new state of bonelessness. from this story it is evident that in former times the jellyfish once had a shell and bones something like a tortoise, but, ever since the dragon king's sentence was carried out on the ancestor of the jelly fishes, his descendants have all been soft and boneless just as you see them to-day thrown up by the waves high upon the shores of japan. the old man and the devils a long time ago there was an old man who had a big lump on the right side of his face. one day he went into the mountain to cut wood, when the rain began to pour and the wind to blow so very hard that, finding it impossible to return home, and filled with fear, he took refuge in the hollow of an old tree. while sitting there doubled up and unable to sleep, he heard the confused sound of many voices in the distance gradually approaching to where he was. he said to himself: "how strange! i thought i was all alone in the mountain, but i hear the voices of many people." so, taking courage, he peeped out, and saw a great crowd of strange-looking beings. some were red, and dressed in green clothes; others were black, and dressed in red clothes; some had only one eye; others had no mouth; indeed, it is quite impossible to describe their varied and strange looks. they kindled a fire, so that it became as light as day. they sat down in two cross-rows, and began to drink wine and make merry just like human beings. they passed the wine cup around so often that many of them soon drank too much. one of the young devils got up and began to sing a merry song and to dance; so also many others; some danced well, others badly. one said: "we have had uncommon fun to-night, but i would like to see something new." then the old man, losing all fear, thought he would like to dance, and saying, "let come what will, if i die for it, i will have a dance, too," crept out of the hollow tree and, with his cap slipped over his nose and his ax sticking in his belt, began to dance. the devils in great surprise jumped up, saying, "who is this?" but the old man advancing and receding, swaying to and fro, and posturing this way and that way, the whole crowd laughed and enjoyed the fun, saying: "how well the old man dances! you must always come and join us in our sport; but, for fear you might not come, you must give us a pledge that you will." so the devils consulted together, and, agreeing that the lump on his face, which was a token of wealth, was what he valued most highly, demanded that it should be taken. the old man replied: "i have had this lump many years, and would not without good reason part with it; but you may have it, or an eye, or my nose either if you wish." so the devils laid hold of it, twisting and pulling, and took it off without giving him any pain, and put it away as a pledge that he would come back. just then the day began to dawn, and the birds to sing, so the devils hurried away. the old man felt his face and found it quite smooth, and not a trace of the lump left. he forgot all about cutting wood, and hastened home. his wife, seeing him, exclaimed in great surprise, "what has happened to you?" so he told her all that had befallen him. now, among the neighbors there was another old man who had a big lump on the left side of his face. hearing all about how the first old man had got rid of his misfortune, he determined that he would also try the same plan. so he went and crept into the hollow tree, and waited for the devils to come. sure enough, they came just as he was told, and they sat down, drank wine, and made merry just as they did before. the second old man, afraid and trembling, crept out of the hollow tree. the devils welcomed him, saying: "the old man has come; now let us see him dance." this old fellow was awkward, and did not dance as well as the other, so the devils cried out: "you dance badly, and are getting worse and worse; we will give you back the lump which we took from you as a pledge." upon this, one of the devils brought the lump, and stuck it on the other side of his face; so the poor old fellow returned home with a lump on each side. autumn and spring adapted by frank hinder a fair maiden lay asleep in a rice field. the sun was at its height, and she was weary. now a god looked down upon the rice field. he knew that the beauty of the maiden came from within, that it mirrored the beauty of heavenly dreams. he knew that even now, as she smiled, she held converse with the spirit of the wind or the flowers. the god descended and asked the dream-maiden to be his bride. she rejoiced, and they were wed. a wonderful red jewel came of their happiness. long, long afterwards, the stone was found by a farmer, who saw that it was a very rare jewel. he prized it highly, and always carried it about with him. sometimes, as he looked at it in the pale light of the moon, it seemed to him that he could discern eyes in its depths. again, in the stillness of the night, he would awaken and think that a clear soft voice called him by name. one day, the farmer had to carry the midday meal to his workers in the field. the sun was very hot, so he loaded a cow with the bowls of rice, the millet dumplings, and the beans. suddenly, prince ama-boko stood in the path. he was angry, for he thought that the farmer was about to kill the cow. the prince would hear no word of denial; his wrath increased. the farmer became more and more terrified, and, finally, took the precious stone from his pocket and presented it as a peace-offering to the powerful prince. ama-boko marveled at the brilliancy of the jewel, and allowed the man to continue his journey. the prince returned to his home. he drew forth the treasure, and it was immediately transformed into a goddess of surpassing beauty. even as she rose before him, he loved her, and ere the moon waned they were wed. the goddess ministered to his every want. she prepared delicate dishes, the secret of which is known only to the gods. she made wine from the juice of a myriad herbs, wine such as mortals never taste. but, after a time, the prince became proud and overbearing. he began to treat his faithful wife with cruel contempt. the goddess was sad, and said: "you are not worthy of my love. i will leave you and go to my father." ama-boko paid no heed to these words, for he did not believe that the threat would be fulfilled. but the beautiful goddess was in earnest. she escaped from the palace and fled to naniwa, where she is still honored as akaru-hime, the goddess of light. now the prince was wroth when he heard that the goddess had left him, and set out in pursuit of her. but when he neared naniwa, the gods would not allow his vessel to enter the haven. then he knew that his priceless red jewel was lost to him forever. he steered his ship towards the north coast of japan, and landed at tajima. here he was well received, and highly esteemed on account of the treasures which he brought with him. he had costly strings of pearls, girdles of precious stones, and a mirror which the wind and the waves obeyed. prince ama-boko remained at tajima, and was the father of a mighty race. among his children's children was a princess so renowned for her beauty that eighty suitors sought her hand. one after the other returned sorrowfully home, for none found favor in her eyes. at last, two brothers came before her, the young god of the autumn, and the young god of the spring. the elder of the two, the god of autumn, first urged his suit. but the princess refused him. he went to his younger brother and said, "the princess does not love me, neither will you be able to win her heart." but the spring god was full of hope, and replied, "i will give you a cask of rice wine if i do not win her, but if she consents to be my bride, you shall give a cask of _saké_ to me." now the god of spring went to his mother, and told her all. she promised to aid him. thereupon she wove, in a single night, a robe and sandals from the unopened buds of the lilac and white wistaria. out of the same delicate flowers she fashioned a bow and arrows. thus clad, the god of spring made his way to the beautiful princess. as he stepped before the maiden, every bud unfolded, and from the heart of each blossom came a fragrance that filled the air. the princess was overjoyed, and gave her hand to the god of spring. the elder brother, the god of autumn, was filled with rage when he heard how his brother had obtained the wondrous robe. he refused to give the promised cask of _saké_. when the mother learned that the god had broken his word, she placed stones and salt in the hollow of a bamboo cane, wrapped it round with bamboo leaves, and hung it in the smoke. then she uttered a curse upon her first-born: "as the leaves wither and fade, so must you. as the salt sea ebbs, so must you. as the stone sinks, so must you." the terrible curse fell upon her son. while the god of spring remains ever young, ever fragrant, ever full of mirth, the god of autumn is old, and withered, and sad. the vision of tsunu adapted by frank rinder when the five tall pine-trees on the windy heights of mionoseki were but tiny shoots, there lived in the kingdom of the islands a pious man. his home was in a remote hamlet surrounded by mountains and great forests of pine. tsunu had a wife and sons and daughters. he was a woodman, and his days were spent in the forest and on the hillsides. in summer he was up at cock-crow, and worked patiently, in the soft light under the pines, until nightfall. then, with his burden of logs and branches, he went slowly homeward. after the evening meal, he would tell some old story or legend. tsunu was never weary of relating the wondrous tales of the land of the gods. best of all he loved to speak of fuji-yama, the mountain that stood so near his home. in times gone by, there was no mountain where now the sacred peak reaches up to the sky; only a far-stretching plain bathed in sunlight all day. the peasants in the district were astonished, one morning, to behold a mighty hill where before had been the open plain. it had sprung up in a single night, while they slept. flames and huge stones were hurled from its summit; the peasants feared that the demons from the under-world had come to wreak vengeance upon them. but for many generations there have been peace and silence on the heights. the good sun-goddess loves fuji-yama. every evening she lingers on his summit, and when at last she leaves him, his lofty crest is bathed in soft purple light. in the evening the matchless mountain seems to rise higher and higher into the skies, until no mortal can tell the place of his rest. golden clouds enfold fuji-yama in the early morning. pilgrims come from far and near, to gain blessing and health for themselves and their families from the sacred mountain. on the self-same night that fuji-yama rose out of the earth, a strange thing happened in the mountainous district near kyoto. the inhabitants were awakened by a terrible roar, which continued throughout the night. in the morning every mountain had disappeared; not one of the hills that they loved was to be seen. a blue lake lay before them. it was none other than the lute-shaped lake biwa. the mountains had, in truth, traveled under the earth for more than a hundred miles, and now form the sacred fuji-yama. as tsunu stepped out of his hut in the morning, his eyes sought the mountain of the gods. he saw the golden clouds, and the beautiful story was in his mind as he went to his work. one day the woodman wandered farther than usual into the forest. at noon he was in a very lonely spot. the air was soft and sweet, the sky so blue that he looked long at it, and then took a deep breath. tsunu was happy. now his eye fell on a little fox who watched him curiously from the bushes. the creature ran away when it saw that the man's attention had been attracted. tsunu thought, "i will follow the little fox and see where she goes." off he started in pursuit. he soon came to a bamboo thicket. the smooth, slender stems waved dreamily, the pale green leaves still sparkled with the morning dew. but it was not this which caused the woodman to stand spellbound. on a plot of mossy grass beyond the thicket, sat two maidens of surpassing beauty. they were partly shaded by the waving bamboos, but their faces were lit up by the sunlight. not a word came from their lips, yet tsunu knew that the voices of both must be sweet as the cooing of the wild dove. the maidens were graceful as the slender willow, they were fair as the blossom of the cherry-tree. slowly they moved the chessmen which lay before them on the grass. tsunu hardly dared to breathe, lest he should disturb them. the breeze caught their long hair, the sunlight played upon it.... the sun still shone.... the chessmen were still slowly moved to and fro.... the woodman gazed enraptured. "but now," thought tsunu, "i must return, and tell those at home of the beautiful maidens." alas, his knees were stiff and weak. "surely i have stood here for many hours," he said. he leaned for support upon his axe; it crumbled into dust. looking down he saw that a flowing white beard hung from his chin. for many hours the poor woodman tried in vain to reach his home. fatigued and wearied, he came at last to a hut. but all was changed. strange faces peered curiously at him. the speech of the people was unfamiliar. "where are my wife and my children?" he cried. but no one knew his name. finally, the poor woodman came to understand that seven generations had passed since he bade farewell to his dear ones in the early morning. while he had gazed at the beautiful maidens, his wife, his children, and his children's children had lived and died. the few remaining years of tsunu's life were spent as a pious pilgrim to fuji-yama, his well-loved mountain. since his death he has been honored as a saint who brings prosperity to the people of his native country. the star-lovers adapted by frank rinder shokujo, daughter of the sun, dwelt with her father on the banks of the silver river of heaven, which we call the milky way. she was a lovely maiden, graceful and winsome, and her eyes were tender as the eyes of a dove. her loving father, the sun, was much troubled because shokujo did not share in the youthful pleasures of the daughters of the air. a soft melancholy seemed to brood over her, but she never wearied of working for the good of others, and especially did she busy herself at her loom; indeed she came to be called the weaving princess. the sun bethought him that if he could give his daughter in marriage, all would be well; her dormant love would be kindled into a flame that would illumine her whole being and drive out the pensive spirit which oppressed her. now there lived, hard by, a right honest herdsman, named kingen, who tended his cows on the borders of the heavenly stream. the sun-king proposed to bestow his daughter on kingen, thinking in this way to provide for her happiness and at the same time keep her near him. every star beamed approval, and there was joy in the heavens. the love that bound shokujo and kingen to one another was a great love. with its awakening, shokujo forsook her former occupations, nor did she any longer labor industriously at the loom, but laughed, and danced, and sang, and made merry from morn till night. the sun-king was sorely grieved, for he had not foreseen so great a change. anger was in his eyes, and he said, "kingen is surely the cause of this, therefore i will banish him to the other side of the river of stars." when shokujo and kingen heard that they were to be parted, and could thenceforth, in accordance with the king's decree, meet but once a year, and that upon the seventh night of the seventh month, their hearts were heavy. the leave-taking between them was a sad one, and great tears stood in shokujo's eyes as she bade farewell to her lover-husband. in answer to the behest of the sun-king, myriads of magpies flocked together, and, outspreading their wings, formed a bridge on which kingen crossed the river of heaven. the moment that his foot touched the opposite bank, the birds dispersed with noisy chatter, leaving poor kingen a solitary exile. he looked wistfully towards the weeping figure of shokujo, who stood on the threshold of her now desolate home. long and weary were the succeeding days, spent as they were by kingen in guiding his oxen and by shokujo in plying her shuttle. the sun-king was gladdened by his daughter's industry. when night fell and the heavens were bright with countless lights, the lovers were wont, standing on the banks of the celestial stream, to waft across it sweet and tender messages, while each uttered a prayer for the speedy coming of the wondrous night. the long-hoped-for month and day drew nigh, and the hearts of the lovers were troubled lest rain should fall; for the silver river, full at all times, is at that season often in flood, and the bird-bridge might be swept away. the day broke cloudlessly bright. it waxed and waned, and one by one the lamps of heaven were lighted. at nightfall the magpies assembled, and shokujo, quivering with delight, crossed the slender bridge and fell into the arms of her lover. their transport of joy was as the joy of the parched flower, when the raindrop falls upon it; but the moment of parting soon came, and shokujo sorrowfully retraced her steps. year follows year, and the lovers still meet in that far-off land on the seventh night of the seventh month, save when rain has swelled the silver river and rendered the crossing impossible. the hope of a permanent reunion still fills the hearts of the star-lovers, and is to them as a sweet fragrance and a beautiful vision. myths of the slavs the two brothers adapted by alexander chodsko once upon a time there were two brothers whose father had left them but a small fortune. the eldest grew very rich, but at the same time cruel and wicked, whereas there was nowhere a more honest or kinder man than the younger. but he remained poor, and had many children, so that at times they could scarcely get bread to eat. at last, one day there was not even this in the house, so he went to his rich brother and asked him for a loaf of bread. waste of time! his rich brother only called him beggar and vagabond, and slammed the door in his face. the poor fellow, after this brutal reception, did not know which way to turn. hungry, scantily clad, shivering with cold, his legs could scarcely carry him along. he had not the heart to go home, with nothing for the children, so he went towards the mountain forest. but all he found there were some wild pears that had fallen to the ground. he had to content himself with eating these, though they set his teeth on edge. but what was he to do to warm himself, for the east wind with its chill blast pierced him through and through. "where shall i go?" he said; "what will become of us in the cottage? there is neither food nor fire, and my brother has driven me from his door." it was just then he remembered having heard that the top of the mountain in front of him was made of crystal, and had a fire forever burning upon it. "i will try and find it," he said, "and then i may be able to warm myself a little." so he went on climbing higher and higher till he reached the top, when he was startled to see twelve strange beings sitting round a huge fire. he stopped for a moment, but then said to himself, "what have i to lose? why should i fear? god is with me. courage!" so he advanced towards the fire, and bowing respectfully, said: "good people, take pity on my distress. i am very poor, no one cares for me, i have not even a fire in my cottage; will you let me warm myself at yours?" they all looked kindly at him, and one of them said: "my son, come sit down with us and warm yourself." so he sat down, and felt warm directly he was near them. but he dared not speak while they were silent. what astonished him most was that they changed seats one after another, and in such a way that each one passed round the fire and came back to his own place. when he drew near the fire an old man with long white beard and bald head arose from the flames and spoke to him thus: "man, waste not thy life here; return to thy cottage, work, and live honestly. take as many embers as thou wilt, we have more than we need." and having said this he disappeared. then the twelve filled a large sack with embers, and, putting it on the poor man's shoulders, advised him to hasten home. humbly thanking them, he set off. as he went he wondered why the embers did not feel hot, and why they should weigh no more than a sack of paper. he was thankful that he should be able to have a fire, but imagine his astonishment when on arriving home he found the sack to contain as many gold pieces as there had been embers; he almost went out of his mind with joy at the possession of so much money. with all his heart he thanked those who had been so ready to help him in his need. he was now rich, and rejoiced to be able to provide for his family. being curious to find out how many gold pieces there were, and not knowing how to count, he sent his wife to his rich brother for the loan of a quart measure. this time the brother was in a better temper, so he lent what was asked of him, but said mockingly, "what can such beggars as you have to measure?" the wife replied, "our neighbor owes us some wheat; we want to be sure he returns us the right quantity." the rich brother was puzzled, and suspecting something he, unknown to his sister-in-law, put some grease inside the measure. the trick succeeded, for on getting it back he found a piece of gold sticking to it. filled with astonishment, he could only suppose his brother had joined a band of robbers: so he hurried to his brother's cottage, and threatened to bring him before the justice of the peace if he did not confess where the gold came from. the poor man was troubled, and, dreading to offend his brother, told the story of his journey to the crystal mountain. now the elder brother had plenty of money for himself, yet he was envious of the brother's good fortune, and became greatly displeased when he found that his brother won every one's esteem by the good use he made of his wealth. at last, he too determined to visit the crystal mountain. "i may meet with as good luck as my brother," said he to himself. upon reaching the crystal mountain he found the twelve seated round the fire as before, and thus addressed them: "i beg of you, good people, to let me warm myself, for it is bitterly cold, and i am poor and homeless." but one of them replied: "my son, the hour of thy birth was favorable; thou art rich, but a miser; thou art wicked, for thou hast dared to lie to us. well dost thou deserve thy punishment." amazed and terrified he stood silent, not daring to speak. meanwhile the twelve changed places one after another, each at last returning to his own seat. then from the midst of the flames arose the white-bearded old man and spoke thus sternly to the rich man: "woe unto the willful! thy brother is virtuous, therefore have i blessed him. as for thee, thou are wicked, and so shalt not escape our vengeance." at these words the twelve arose. the first seized the unfortunate man, struck him, and passed him on to the second; the second also struck him and passed him on to the third; and so did they all in their turn, until he was given up to the old man, who disappeared with him into the fire. days, weeks, months went by, but the rich man never returned, and none knew what had become of him. i think, between you and me, the younger brother had his suspicions but he very wisely kept them to himself. the twelve months adapted by alexander chodsko there was once a widow who had two daughters, helen, her own child by her dead husband, and marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. she loved helen, but hated the poor orphan, because she was far prettier than her own daughter. marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. the hardest work fell to her share; she cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help. helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another. but marouckla never complained; she bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. but this angelic behavior did not soften them. they became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for marouckla grew daily more beautiful while helen's ugliness increased. so the stepmother determined to get rid of marouckla, for she knew that while she remained her own daughter would have no suitors. hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. the most wicked of men could not have been more mercilessly cruel than these two vixens. but in spite of it all marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming. one day in the middle of winter helen wanted some wood-violets. "listen," cried she to marouckla; "you must go up the mountain and find me some violets, i want some to put in my gown; they must be fresh and sweet-scented--do you hear?" "but, my dear sister, who ever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan. "you wretched creature! do you dare to disobey me?" said helen. "not another word; off with you. if you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest, i will kill you." the stepmother also added her threats to those of helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. the weeping girl made her way to the mountain. the snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. she was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die. suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed towards it, till she reached the top of the mountain. upon the highest peak burnt a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone, on which sat twelve strange beings. of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger. there they all sat silently looking at the fire. they were the twelve months of the year. the great setchène (january) was placed higher than the others; his hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. at first marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned and drawing near she said: "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? i am chilled by the winter cold." the great setchène raised his head and answered: "what brings thee here, my daughter? what dost thou seek?" "i am looking for violets," replied the maiden. "this is not the season for violets; dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said setchène. "i know well, but my sister helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain: if i return without them they will kill me. i pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found?" here the great setchène arose and went over to the youngest of the months, and placing his wand in his hand, said: "brother brezène (march), do thou take the highest place." brezène obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. immediately the flames rose towards the sky, the snow began to melt and the tress and shrubs to bud; the grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. it was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets. "gather them quickly, marouckla," said brezène. joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house. "where did you find them?" asked helen. "under the trees on the mountain slope," said marouckla. helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother; she did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. the next day she desired marouckla to fetch her strawberries. "run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain: they must be very sweet and ripe." "but who ever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed marouckla. "hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me; if i don't have my strawberries i will kill you." then the stepmother pushed her into the yard and bolted the door. the unhappy girl made her way towards the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the twelve months. the great setchène occupied the highest place. "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? the winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. the great setchène raised his head and asked: "why comest thou here? what dost thou seek?" "i am looking for strawberries," said she. "we are in the midst of winter," replied setchène; strawberries do not grow in the snow." "i know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries; if i do not they will kill me. pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them." the great setchène arose, crossed over to the month opposite him, and putting the wand into his hand, said: "brother tchervène (june), do thou take the highest place." tchervène obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leapt towards the sky. instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. it was summer. under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries. before marouckla had time to cross herself they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood. "gather them quickly, marouckla," said tchervène. joyfully she thanked the months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance. "wherever did you find them?" asked helen crossly. "right up among the mountains; those from under the beech trees are not bad." helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself; not one did she offer to her stepsister. being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh red apples. "run, marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh red apples from the mountain." "apples in winter, sister? why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit." "idle creature, go this minute," said helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you." as before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. the poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow upon which lay no human footprint, and on towards the fire round which were the twelve months. motionless sat they, and on the highest stone was the great setchène. "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? the winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. the great setchène raised his head. "why com'st thou here? what dost thou seek?" asked he. "i am come to look for red apples," replied marouckla. "but this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great setchène. "i know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother, sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain; if i return without them they will kill me." thereupon the great setchène arose and went over to one of the elderly months, to whom he handed the wand, saying: "brother zarè (september), do thou take the highest place." zarè moved to the highest stone and waved his wand over the fire. there was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. only a few flowers of autumn were visible, such as the fleabane and red gillyflower, autumn colchicums in the ravine, and under the beeches bracken and tufts of northern heather. at first marouckla looked in vain for red apples. then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright red fruit. zarè ordered her to gather some quickly. the girl was delighted and shook the tree. first one apple fell, then another. "that is enough," said zarè, "hurry home." thanking the months, she returned joyfully. helen marveled and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit. "where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister. "there are more on the mountain top," answered marouckla. "then why did you not bring more?" said helen angrily; "you must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl." "no, dear sister, i have not even tasted them," said marouckla. "i shook the tree twice; one apple fell each time. i was not allowed to shake it again, but was told to return home." "may god smite you with his thunderbolt," said helen, striking her. marouckla prayed to die rather than suffer such ill-treatment. weeping bitterly, she took refuge in the kitchen. helen and her mother found the apples more delicious than any they had ever tasted, and when they had eaten both longed for more. "listen, mother," said helen. "give me my cloak; i will fetch some more apples myself, or else that good-for-nothing wretch will eat them all on the way. i shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. the shepherds may cry 'stop,' but i shall not leave go till i have shaken down all the apples." in spite of her mother's advice she put on her cloak, covered her head with a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. the mother stood and watched her till she was lost in the distance. snow covered everything, not a human footprint was to be seen on its surface. helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. after a while she saw a light above her, and following in its direction reached the mountain top. there was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the twelve months. at first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. she did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word. "what has brought thee here? what dost thou seek?" said the great setchène severely. "i am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard; what business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going towards the forest. the great setchène frowned, and waved his wand over his head. instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. amid the fury of the storm helen added curses against her stepsister. the cloak failed to warm her benumbed limbs. the mother kept on waiting for her; she looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. the hours passed slowly, but helen did not return. "can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. then she clad herself in hood and shawl and went in search of her daughter. snow fell in huge masses; it covered all things, it lay untouched by human footsteps. for long she wandered hither and thither; the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries. day after day marouckla worked and prayed, and waited; but neither stepmother nor sister returned, they had been frozen to death on the mountain. the inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to marouckla. in course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful. the sun; or, the three golden hairs of the old man vsÉvÈde adapted by alexander chodsko can this be a true story? it is said that once there was a king who was exceedingly fond of hunting the wild beasts in his forests. one day he followed a stag so far and so long that he lost his way. alone and overtaken by night, he was glad to find himself near a small thatched cottage in which lived a charcoal-burner. "will you kindly show me the way to the highroad? you shall be handsomely rewarded." "i would willingly," said the charcoal-burner, "but god is going to send my wife a little child, and i cannot leave her alone. will you pass the night under our roof? there is a truss of sweet hay in the loft where you may rest, and to-morrow morning i will be your guide." the king accepted the invitation and went to bed in the loft. shortly after a son was born to the charcoal-burner's wife. but the king could not sleep. at midnight he heard noises in the house, and looking through a crack in the flooring he saw the charcoal-burner asleep, his wife almost in a faint, and by the side of the newly-born babe three old women dressed in white, each holding a lighted taper in her hand, and all talking together. now these were the three soudiché or fates, you must know. the first said, "on this boy i bestow the gift of confronting great dangers." the second said, "i bestow the power of happily escaping all these dangers, and of living to a good old age." the third said, "i bestow upon him for wife the princess born at the self-same hour as he, and daughter of the very king sleeping above in the loft." at these words the lights went out and silence reigned around. now the king was greatly troubled, and wondered exceedingly; he felt as if he had received a sword-thrust in the chest. he lay awake all night thinking how to prevent the words of the fates from coming true. with the first glimmer of morning light the baby began to cry. the charcoal-burner, on going over to it, found that his wife was dead. "poor little orphan," he said sadly, "what will become of thee without a mother's care?" "confide this child to me," said the king, "i will look after it. he shall be well provided for. you shall be given a sum of money large enough to keep you without having to burn charcoal." the poor man gladly agreed, and the king went away promising to send some one for the child. the queen and the courtiers thought it would be an agreeable surprise for the king to hear that a charming little princess had been born on the night he was away. but instead of being pleased he frowned and calling one of his servants, said to him, "go to the charcoal-burner's cottage in the, forest, and give the man this purse in exchange for a new-born infant. on your way back drown the child. see well that he is drowned, for if he should in any way escape, you yourself shall suffer in his place." the servant was given the child in a basket, and on reaching the center of a narrow bridge that stretched across a wide and deep river, he threw both basket and baby into the water. "a prosperous journey to you, mr. son-in-law," said the king, on hearing the servant's story; for he fully believed the child was drowned. but it was far from being the case; the little one was floating happily along in its basket cradle, and slumbering as sweetly as if his mother had sung him to sleep. now it happened that a fisherman, who was mending his nets before his cottage door, saw the basket floating down the river. he jumped at once into his boat, picked it up, and ran to tell his wife the good news. "look," said he, "you have always longed for a son; here is a beautiful little boy the river has sent us." the woman was delighted, and took the infant and loved it as her own child. they named him _plavacek_ (the floater), because he had come to them floating on the water. the river flowed on. years passed away. the little baby grew into a handsome youth; in all the villages round there were none to compare with him. now it happened that one summer day the king was riding unattended, and the heat being very great he reined in his horse before the fisherman's door to ask for a drink of water. plavacek brought the water. the king looked at him attentively, then turning to the fisherman, said, "that is a good-looking lad; is he your son?" "he is and he isn't," replied the fisherman. "i found him, when he was quite a tiny baby, floating down the stream in a basket. so we adopted him and brought him up as our own son." the king turned as pale as death, for he guessed that he was the same child he had ordered to be drowned. then recovering himself he got down from his horse and said: "i want a trusty messenger to take a message to the palace, could you send him with it?" "with pleasure! your majesty may be sure of its safe delivery." thereupon the king wrote to the queen as follows: "the man who brings you this letter is the most dangerous of all my enemies. have his head cut off at once; no delay, no pity, he must be executed before my return. such is my will and pleasure." this he carefully folded and sealed with the royal seal. plavacek took the letter and set off immediately. but the forest through which he had to pass was so large, and the trees so thick, that he missed the path and was overtaken by the darkness before the journey was nearly over. in the midst of his trouble he met an old woman who said, "where are you going, plavacek? where are you going?" "i am the bearer of a letter from the king to the queen, but have missed the path to the palace. could you, good mother, put me on the right road?" "impossible to-day, my child; it is getting dark, and you would not have time to get there. stay with me to-night. you will not be with strangers, for i am your godmother." plavacek agreed. thereupon they entered a pretty little cottage that seemed suddenly to sink into the earth. now while he slept the old woman changed his letter for another, which ran thus: "immediately upon the receipt of this letter introduce the bearer to the princess our daughter, i have chosen this young man for my son-in-law, and it is my wish they should be married before my return to the palace. such is my pleasure." the letter was duly delivered, and when the queen had read it, she ordered everything to be prepared for the wedding. both she and her daughter greatly enjoyed plavacek's society, and nothing disturbed the happiness of the newly married pair. within a few days the king returned, and on hearing what had taken place was very angry with the queen. "but you expressly bade me have the wedding before your return. come, read your letter again, here it is," said she. he closely examined the letter; the paper, handwriting, seal--all were undoubtedly his. he then called his son-in-law, and questioned him about his journey. plavacek hid nothing: he told how he had lost his way, and how he had passed the night in a cottage in the forest. "what was the old woman like?" asked the king. from plavacek's description the king knew it was the very same who, twenty years before, had foretold the marriage of the princess with the charcoal-burner's son. after some moments' thought the king said: "what is done is done. but you will not become my son-in-law so easily. no, i' faith! as a wedding present you must bring me three golden hairs from the head of dède-vsévède." in this way he thought to get rid of his son-in-law, whose very presence was distasteful to him. the young fellow took leave of his wife and set off. "i know not which way to go," said he to himself, "but my godmother the witch will surely help me." but he found the way easily enough. he walked on and on and on for a long time over mountain, valley, and river, until he reached the shores of the black sea. there he found a boat and boatman. "may god bless you, old boatman," said he. "and you, too, my young traveler. where are you going?" "to dède-vsévède's castle for three of his golden hairs." "ah, then you are very welcome. for a long weary while i have been waiting for such a messenger as you. i have been ferrying passengers across for these twenty years, and not one of them has done anything to help me. if you will promise to ask dède-vsévède when i shall be released from my toil i will row you across." plavacek promised, and was rowed to the opposite bank. he continued his journey on foot until he came in sight of a large town half in ruins, near which was passing a funeral procession. the king of that country was following his father's coffin, and with the tears running down his cheeks. "may god comfort you in your distress," said plavacek. "thank you, good traveler. where are you going?" "to the house of dède-vsévède in quest of three of his golden hairs." "to the house of dède-vsévède? indeed! what a pity you did not come sooner, we have long been expecting such a messenger as you. come and see me by-and-by." when plavacek presented himself at court the king said to him: "we understand you are on your way to the house of dède-vsévède! now we have an apple-tree here that bears the fruit of everlasting youth. one of these apples eaten by a man, even though he be dying, will cure him and make him young again. for the last twenty years neither fruit nor flower has been found on this tree. will you ask dède-vsévède the cause of it?" "that i will, with pleasure." then plavacek continued his journey, and as he went he came to a large and beautiful city where all was sad and silent. near the gate was an old man who leaned on a stick and walked with difficulty. "may god bless you, good old man." "and you, too, my handsome young traveler. where are you going?" "to dède-vsévède's palace in search of three of his golden hairs." "ah, you are the very messenger i have so long waited for. allow me to take you to my master the king." on their arrival at the palace, the king said, "i hear you are an ambassador to dède-vsévède. we have here a well, the water of which renews itself. so wonderful are its effects that invalids are immediately cured on drinking it, while a few drops sprinkled on a corpse will bring it to life again. for the past twenty years this well has remained dry: if you will ask old dède-vsévède how the flow of water may be restored i will reward you royally." plavacek promised to do so, and was dismissed with good wishes. he then traveled through deep dark forests, in the midst of which might be seen a large meadow: out of it grew lovely flowers, and in the center stood a castle built of gold. it was the home of dède-vsévède. so brilliant with light was it that it seemed to be built of fire. when he entered there was no one there but an old woman spinning. "greeting, plavacek, i am well pleased to see you." she was his godmother, who had given him shelter in her cottage when he was the bearer of the king's letter. "tell me what brings you here from such a distance," she went on. "the king would not have me for his son-in-law, unless i first got him three golden hairs from the head of dède-vsévède. so he sent me here to fetch them." the fate laughed. "dède-vsévède indeed! why, i am his mother, it is the shining sun himself. he is a child at morning time, a grown man at midday, a decrepit old man, looking as if he had lived a hundred years, at eventide. but i will see that you have the three hairs from his head; i am not your godmother for nothing. all the same you must not remain here. my son is a good lad, but when he comes home he is hungry, and would very probably order you to be roasted for his supper. now i will turn this empty bucket upside down, and you shall hide underneath it." plavacek begged the fate to obtain from dède-vsévède the answers to the three questions he had been asked. "i will do so certainly, but you must listen to what he says." suddenly a blast of wind howled round the palace, and the sun entered by a western window. he was an old man with golden hair. "i smell human flesh," cried he, "i am sure of it. mother, you have some one here." "star of day," she replied, "whom could i have here that you would not see sooner than i? the fact is that in your daily journeys the scent of human flesh is always with you, so when you come home at evening it clings to you still." the old man said nothing, and sat down to supper. when he had finished he laid his golden head on the fate's lap and went to sleep. then she pulled out a hair and threw it on the ground. it fell with a metallic sound like the vibration of a guitar string. "what do you want, mother?" asked he. "nothing, my son; i was sleeping, and had a strange dream." "what was it, mother?" "i thought i was in a place where there was a well, and the well was fed from a spring, the water of which cured all diseases. even the dying were restored to health on drinking that water, and the dead who were sprinkled with it came to life again. for the last twenty years the well has run dry. what must be done to restore the flow of water?" "that is very simple. a frog has lodged itself in the opening of the spring, this prevents the flow of water. kill the frog, and the water will return to the well." he slept again, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair, and threw it on the ground. "mother, what do you want?" "nothing, my son, nothing; i was dreaming. in my dream i saw a large town, the name of which i have forgotten. and there grew an apple-tree the fruit of which had the power to make the old young again. a single apple eaten by an old man would restore to him the vigor and freshness of youth. for twenty years this tree has not borne fruit. what can be done to make it fruitful?" "the means are not difficult. a snake hidden among the roots destroys the sap. kill the snake, transplant the tree, and the fruit will grow as before." he again fell asleep, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair. "now mother, why will you not let me sleep?" said the old man, really vexed; and he would have got up. "lie down, my darling son, do not disturb yourself. i am sorry i awoke you, but i have had a very strange dream. it seemed that i saw a boatman on the shores of the black sea, and he complained that he had been toiling at the ferry for twenty years without any one having come to take his place. for how much longer must this poor old man continue to row?" "he is a silly fellow. he has but to place his oars in the hands of the first comer and jump ashore. who ever receives the oars will replace him as ferryman. but leave me in peace now, mother, and do not wake me again. i have to rise very early, and must first dry the eyes of a princess. the poor thing spends all night weeping for her husband who has been sent by the king to get three of my golden hairs." next morning the wind whistled round dède-vsévède's palace, and instead of an old man, a beautiful child with golden hair awoke on the old woman's lap. it was the glorious sun. he bade her good-by, and flew out of the eastern window. the old woman turned up the bucket and said to plavacek: "look, here are the three golden hairs. you now know the answers to your questions. may god direct you and send you a prosperous journey. you will not see me again, for you will have no further need of me." he thanked her gratefully and left her. on arriving at the town with the dried-up well, he was questioned by the king as to what news he had brought. "have the well carefully cleaned out," said he, "kill the frog that obstructs the spring, and the wonderful water will flow again." the king did as he was advised, and rejoiced to see the water return. he gave plavacek twelve swan-white horses, and as much gold and silver as they could carry. on reaching the second town and being asked by the king what news he had brought, he replied, "excellent; one could not wish for better. dig up your apple-tree, kill the snake that lies among the roots, transplant the tree, and it will produce apples like those of former times." and all turned out as he had said, for no sooner was the tree replanted than it was covered with blossoms that gave it the appearance of a sea of roses. the delighted king gave him twelve raven-black horses, laden with as much wealth as they could carry. he then journeyed to the shores of the black sea. there the boatman questioned him as to what news he had brought respecting his release. plavacek first crossed with his twenty-four horses to the opposite bank, and then replied that the boatman might gain his freedom by placing the oars in the hands of the first traveler who wished to be ferried over. plavacek's royal father-in-law could not believe his eyes when he saw dède-vsévède's three golden hairs. as for the princess, his young wife, she wept tears, but of joy, not sadness, to see her dear one again, and she said to him, "how did you get such splendid horses and so much wealth, dear husband?" and he answered her, "all this represents the price paid for the weariness of spirit i have felt; it is the ready money for hardships endured and services given. thus, i showed one king how to regain possession of the apples of youth: to another i told the secret of reopening the spring of water that gives health and life." "apples of youth! water of life!" interrupted the king. "i will certainly go and find these treasures for myself. ah, what joy! having eaten of these apples i shall become young again; having drunk of the water of immortality, i shall live forever." and he started off in search of these treasures. but he has not yet returned from his search. a myth of america hiawatha adapted from h.r. schoolcraft's version hiawatha was living with his grandmother near the edge of a wide prairie. on this prairie he first saw animals and birds of every kind. he there also saw exhibitions of divine power in the sweeping tempests, in the thunder and lightning, and the various shades of light and darkness which form a never ending scene for observation. every new sight he beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark; every new animal or bird an object of deep interest; and every sound uttered by the animal creation a new lesson, which he was expected to learn. he often trembled at what he heard and saw. to this scene his grandmother sent him at an early age to watch. the first sound he heard was that of an owl, at which he was greatly terrified, and quickly descending the tree he had climbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. "noko! noko!" (grandma) he cried, "i have heard a momendo." she laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of a noise it made. he answered, "it makes a noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho." she told him that he was young and foolish; that what he had heard was only a bird, deriving its name from the noise it made. he went back and continued his watch. while there, he thought to himself, "it is singular that i am so simple, and my grandmother so wise, and that i have neither father nor mother. i have never heard a word about them. i must ask and find out." he went home and sat down silent and dejected. at length his grandmother asked him, "hiawatha, what is the matter with you?" he answered, "i wish you would tell me whether i have any parents living and who my relatives are." knowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful disposition, she dreaded telling him the story of his parentage, but he insisted on her compliance. "yes," she said, "you have a father and three brothers living. your mother is dead. she was taken without the consent of her parents by your father the west. your brothers are the north, east, and south, and, being older than yourself, your father has given them great power with the winds, according to their names. you are the youngest of his children. i have nourished you from your infancy, for your mother died in giving you birth, owing to the ill-treatment of your father. i have no relations besides you this side of the planet on which i was born, and from which i was precipitated by female jealousy. your mother was my only child, and you are my only hope." he appeared to be rejoiced to hear that his father was living, for he had already thought in his heart to try and kill him. he told his grandmother he should set out in the morning to visit him. she said it was a long distance to the place where the west lived. but that had no effect to stop him for he had now attained manhood, possessed a giant's height, and was endowed by nature with a giant's strength and power. he set out and soon reached the place, for every step he took covered a large surface of ground. the meeting took place on a high mountain in the west. his father appeared very happy to see him. they spent some days in talking with each other. one evening hiawatha asked his father what he was most afraid of on earth. he replied, "nothing." "but is there not something you dread here? tell me." at last his father said, yielding, "yes, there is a black stone found in such a place. it is the only earthly thing i am afraid of; for if it should hit me, or any part of my body, it would injure me very much." he said this as a secret, and in return asked his son the same question. knowing each other's power, although the son's was limited, the father feared him on account of his great strength. hiawatha answered, "nothing!" intending to avoid the question, or to refer to some harmless object as the one of which he was afraid. he was asked again, and again, and answered, "nothing!" but the west said, "there must be something you are afraid of." "well! i will tell you," said hiawatha, "what it is." but, before he would pronounce the word, he affected great dread. "_ie-ee_--_ie-ee_--it is--it is," said he, "yeo! yeo! i cannot name it; i am seized with a dread." the west told him to banish his fears. he commenced again, in a strain of mock sensitiveness repeating the same words; at last he cried out, "it is the root of the bulrush." he appeared to be exhausted by the effort of pronouncing the word, in all this skilfully acting a studied part. some time after he observed, "i will get some of the black rock;" the west said, "far be it from you; do not so, my son." he still persisted. "well," said the father, "i will also get the bulrush root." hiawatha immediately cried out, "do not--do not," affecting as before, to be in great dread of it, but really wishing, by this course, to urge on the west to procure it, that he might draw him into combat. he went out and got a large piece of the black rock, and brought it home. the west also took care to bring the dreaded root. in the course of conversation he asked his father whether he had been the cause of his mother's death. the answer was "yes!" he then took up the rock and struck him. blow led to blow, and here commenced an obstinate and furious combat, which continued several days. fragments of the rock, broken off under hiawatha's blows, can be seen in various places to this day. the root did not prove as mortal a weapon as his well-acted fears had led his father to expect, although he suffered severely from the blows. this battle commenced on the mountains. the west was forced to give ground. hiawatha drove him across rivers, and over mountains and lakes, and at last he came to the brink of this world. "hold!" cried he, "my son; you know my power, and that it is impossible to kill me. desist, and i will also portion you out with as much power as your brothers. the four quarters of the globe are already occupied; but you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of this earth, which is infested with large serpents, beasts, and monsters, who make great [blank page] havoc among the inhabitants. go and do good. you have the power now to do so, and your fame with the beings of this earth will last forever. when you have finished your work, i will have a place provided for you. you will then go and sit with your brother in the north." [illustration: from the "cosmopolitan magazine" by permission. hiawatha in his canoe.] hiawatha was pacified. he returned to his lodge, where he was confined by the wounds he had received. but owing to his grandmother's skill in medicine he was soon recovered. she told him that his grandfather, who had come to the earth in search of her, had been killed by meg-gis-sog-won, who lived on the opposite side of the great lake. "when he was alive," she continued, "i was never without oil to put on my head, but now my hair is fast falling off for the want of it." "well!" said he, "noko, get cedar bark and make me a line, while i make a canoe." when all was ready, he went out to the middle of the lake to fish. he put his line down, saying, "me-she-nah-ma-gwai (the name of the kingfish), take hold of my bait." he kept repeating this for some time. at last the king of the fishes said, "hiawatha troubles me. here, trout, take hold of his line," which was very heavy, so that his canoe stood nearly perpendicular; but he kept crying out, "wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!" till he could see the trout. as soon as he saw him, he spoke to him. "why did you take hold of my hook? shame, shame you ugly fish." the trout, being thus rebuked, let go. hiawatha put his line again in the water, saying, "king of fishes, take hold of my line." but the king of fishes told a monstrous sunfish to take hold of it; for hiawatha was tiring him with his incessant calls. he again drew up his line with difficulty, saying as before, "wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!" while his canoe was turning in swift circles. when he saw the sunfish, he cried, "shame, shame you odious fish! why did you dirty my hook by taking it in your mouth? let go, i say, let go." the sunfish did so, and told the king of fishes what hiawatha said. just at that moment the bait came near the king, and hearing hiawatha continually crying out, "me-she-nah-ma-gwai, take hold of my hook," at last he did so, and allowed himself to be drawn up to the surface, which he had no sooner reached than, at one mouthful, he took hiawatha and his canoe down. when he came to himself, he found that he was in the fish's belly, and also his canoe. he now turned his thoughts to the way of making his escape. looking in his canoe, he saw his war-club, with which he immediately struck the heart of the fish. he then felt a sudden motion, as if he were moving with great velocity. the fish observed to the others, "i am sick at stomach for having swallowed this dirty fellow, hiawatha." just at this moment he received another severe blow on the heart. hiawatha thought, "if i am thrown up in the middle of the lake, i shall be drowned; so i must prevent it." he drew his canoe and placed it across the fish's throat, and just as he had finished the fish commenced vomiting, but to no effect. in this he was aided by a squirrel, who had accompanied him unperceived until that moment. this animal had taken an active part in helping him to place his canoe across the fish's throat. for this act he named him, saying, "for the future, boys shall always call you ajidaumo [upside down]!" he then renewed his attack upon the fish's heart, and succeeded, by repeated blows, in killing him, which he first knew by the loss of motion, and by the sound of the beating of the body against the shore. he waited a day longer to see what would happen. he heard birds scratching on the body, and all at once the rays of light broke in. he could see the heads of gulls, who were looking in by the opening they had made. "oh!" cried hiawatha, "my younger brothers, make the opening larger, so that i can get out." they told each other that their brother hiawatha was inside of the fish. they immediately set about enlarging the orifice, and in a short time liberated him. after he got out he said to the gulls, "for the future you shall be called kayoshk [noble scratchers]!" the spot where the fish happened to be driven ashore was near his lodge. he went up and told his grandmother to go and prepare as much oil as she wanted. all besides, he informed her, he should keep for himself. some time after this, he commenced making preparations for a war excursion against the pearl feather, the manito who lived on the opposite side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. the abode of his spirit was defended, first, by fiery serpents, who hissed fire so that no one could pass them; and, in the second place, by a large mass of gummy matter lying on the water, so soft and adhesive, that whoever attempted to pass, or whatever came in contact with it, was sure to stick there. he continued making bows and arrows without number, but he had no heads for his arrows. at last noko told him that an old man who lived at some distance could make them. he sent her to get some. she soon returned with her conaus, or wrapper, full. still he told her he had not enough, and sent her again. she returned with as many more. he thought to himself, "i must find out the way of making these heads." cunning and curiosity prompted him to make the discovery. but he deemed it necessary to deceive his grandmother in so doing. "noko," said he, "while i take my drum and rattle, and sing my war-songs, go and try to get me some larger heads for my arrows, for those you brought me are all of the same size. go and see whether the old man cannot make some a little larger." he followed her as she went, keeping at a distance, and saw the old artificer at work, and so discovered his process. he also beheld the old man's daughter, and perceived that she was very beautiful. he felt his breast beat with a new emotion, but said nothing. he took care to get home before his grandmother, and commenced singing as if he had never left his lodge. when the old woman came near, she heard his drum and rattle, without any suspicion that he had followed her. she delivered him the arrow-heads. one evening the old woman said, "my son, you ought to fast before you go to war, as your brothers frequently do, to find out whether you will be successful or not." he said he had no objection, and immediately commenced a fast for several days. he would retire every day from the lodge so far as to be out of the reach of his grandmother's voice. after having finished his term of fasting and sung his war-song from which the indians of the present day derive their custom--he embarked in his canoe, fully prepared for war. in addition to the usual implements, he had a plentiful supply of oil. he traveled rapidly night and day, for he had only to will or speak, and the canoe went. at length he arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. he stopped to view them. he saw they were some distance apart, and that the flame only which issued from them reached across the pass. he commenced talking as a friend to them; but they answered, "we know you, hiawatha, you cannot pass." he then thought of some expedient to deceive them, and hit upon this. he pushed his canoe as near as possible. all at once he cried out, with a loud and terrified voice, "what is that behind you?" the serpents instantly turned their heads, when, at a single word, he passed them. "well!" said he, placidly, after he had got by, "how do you like my exploit?" he then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim shot them, which was easily done, for the serpents were stationary, and could not move beyond a certain spot. they were of enormous length and of a bright color. having overcome the sentinel serpents, he went on in his magic canoe till he came to a soft gummy portion of the lake, called pigiu-wagumee or pitchwater. he took the oil and rubbed it on his canoe, and then pushed into it. the oil softened the surface and enabled him to slip through it with ease, although it required frequent rubbing, and a constant re-application of the oil. just as his oil failed, he extricated himself from this impediment, and was the first person who ever succeeded in overcoming it. he now came in view of land, on which he debarked in safety, and could see the lodge of the shining manito, situated on a hill. he commenced preparing for the fight, putting his arrows and clubs in order, and just at the dawn of day began his attack, yelling and shouting, and crying with triple voices, "surround him! surround him! run up! run up!" making it appear that he had many followers. he advanced crying out, "it was you that killed my grandfather," and with this shot his arrows. the combat continued all day. hiawatha's arrows had no effect, for his antagonist was clothed with pure wampum. he was now reduced to three arrows, and it was only by extraordinary agility that he could escape the blows which the manito kept making at him. at that moment a large woodpecker (the ma-ma) flew past, and lit on a tree. "hiawatha" he cried, "your adversary has a vulnerable point; shoot at the lock of hair on the crown of his head." he shot his first arrow so as only to draw blood from that part. the manito made one or two unsteady steps, but recovered himself. he began to parley, but, in the act, received a second arrow, which brought him to his knees. but he again recovered. in so doing, however, he exposed his head, and gave his adversary a chance to fire his third arrow, which penetrated deep, and brought him a lifeless corpse to the ground. hiawatha uttered his saw-saw-quan, and taking his scalp as a trophy, he called the woodpecker to come and receive a reward for his information. he took the blood of the manito and rubbed it on the woodpecker's head, the feathers of which are red to this day. after this victory he returned home, singing songs of triumph and beating his drum. when his grandmother heard him, she came to the shore and welcomed him with songs and dancing. glory fired his mind. he displayed the trophies he had brought in the most conspicuous manner, and felt an unconquerable desire for other adventures. he felt himself urged by the consciousness of his power to new trials of bravery, skill, and necromantic prowess. he had destroyed the manito of wealth, and killed his guardian serpents, and eluded all his charms. he did not long remain inactive. his next adventure was upon the water, and proved him the prince of fishermen. he captured a fish of such a monstrous size, that the fat and oil he obtained from it formed a small lake. he therefore invited all the animals and fowls to a banquet, and he made the order in which they partook of this repast the measure of their fatness. as fast as they arrived, he told them to plunge in. the bear came first, and was followed by the deer, opossum, and such other animals as are noted for their peculiar fatness at certain seasons. the moose and bison came tardily. the partridge looked on till the reservoir was nearly exhausted. the hare and marten came last, and these animals have consequently no fat. when this ceremony was over, he told the assembled animals and birds to dance, taking up his drum and crying, "new songs from the south, come, brothers, dance." he directed them to pass in a circle around him, and to shut their eyes. they did so. when he saw a fat fowl pass by him, he adroitly wrung off its head, at the same time beating his drum and singing with greater vehemence, to drown the noise of the fluttering, and crying out, in a tone of admiration, "that's the way, my brothers, _that's_ the way." at last a small duck [the diver], thinking there was something wrong, opened one eye and saw what he was doing. giving a spring and crying, "ha-ha-a! hiawatha is killing us," he made for the water. hiawatha followed him, and, just as the duck was getting into the water, gave him a kick, which is the cause of his back being flattened and his legs being straightened out backward, so that when he gets on land he cannot walk, and his tail feathers are few. meantime the other birds flew off, and the animals ran into the woods. after this hiawatha, set out to travel. he wished to outdo all others, and to see new countries. but after walking over america and encountering many adventures he became satisfied as well as fatigued. he had heard of great feats in hunting, and felt a desire to try his power in that way. one evening, as he was walking along the shores of a great lake, weary and hungry, he encountered a great magician in the form of an old wolf, with six young ones, coming towards him. the wolf, as soon as he saw him, told his whelps to keep out of the way of hiawatha, "for i know," continued he, "that it is he that we see yonder." the young wolves were in the act of running off, when hiawatha cried out, "my grandchildren, where are you going? stop, and i will go with you." he appeared rejoiced to see the old wolf, and asked him whither he was journeying. being told that they were looking for a place where they could find most game, and where they might pass the winter, he said he would like to go with them, and addressed the old wolf in the following words: "brother, i have a passion for the chase; are you willing to change me into a wolf?" he was answered favorably, and his transformation immediately effected. hiawatha was fond of novelty. he found himself a wolf corresponding in size with the others, but he was not quite satisfied with the change, crying out, "oh, make me a little larger." they did so. "a little larger still," he exclaimed. they said, "let us humor him," and granted his request. "well," said he, "_that_ will do." he looked at his tail. "oh!" cried he, "do make my tail a little longer and more bushy." they did so. they then all started off in company, dashing up a ravine. after getting into the woods some distance, they fell in with the tracks of moose. the young ones went after them, hiawatha and the old wolf following at their leisure. "well," said the wolf, "whom do you think is the fastest of the boys? can you tell by the jumps they take?" "why," he replied, "that one that takes such long jumps, he is the fastest, to be sure." "ha! ha! you are mistaken," said the old wolf. "he makes a good start, but he will be the first to tire out; this one who appears to be behind, will be the one to kill the game." they then came to the place where the boys had started in chase. one had dropped his small bundle. "take that, hiawatha," said the old wolf. "esa," he replied, "what will i do with a dirty dogskin?" the wolf took it up; it was a beautiful robe. "oh, i will carry it now," said hiawatha. "oh no," replied the wolf, who at the moment exerted his magic power; "it is a robe of pearls!" and from this moment he omitted no occasion to display his superiority, both in the art of the hunter and the magician above his conceited companion. coming to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the young wolves had made a fresh start after their prey. "why," said the wolf, "this moose is poor. i know by the tracks, for i can always tell whether they are fat or not." they next came to a place where one of the wolves had bit at the moose, and had broken one of his teeth on a tree. "hiawatha," said the wolf, "one of your grandchildren has shot at the game. take his arrow; there it is." "no," he replied; "what will i do with a dirty dog's tooth!" the old wolf took it up, and behold! it was a beautiful silver arrow. when they overtook the youngsters, they had killed a very fat moose. hiawatha was extremely hungry; but, alas! such is the power of enchantment, he saw nothing but the bones picked quite clean. he thought to himself, "just as i expected, dirty, greedy fellows!" however, he sat down without saying a word. at length the old wolf spoke to one of the young ones, saying, "give some meat to your grandfather." one of them obeyed, and, coming near to hiawatha, opened his mouth as if he was about to snarl. hiawatha jumped up saying, "you filthy dog, you have eaten so much that your stomach refuses to hold it. get you gone into some other place." the old wolf, hearing the abuse, went a little to one side to see, and behold, a heap of fresh ruddy meat, with the fat lying all ready prepared. he was followed by hiawatha, who, having the enchantment instantly removed, put on a smiling face. "amazement!" said he; "how fine the meat is." "yes," replied the wolf; "it is always so with us; we know our work, and always get the best. it is not a long tail that makes a hunter." hiawatha bit his lip. they then commenced fixing their winter quarters, while the youngsters went out in search of game, and soon brought in a large supply. one day, during the absence of the young wolves, the old one amused himself in cracking the large bones of a moose. "hiawatha," said he, "cover your head with the robe, and do not look at me while i am at these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye." he did as he was told; but, looking through a rent that was in the robe, he saw what the other was about. just at that moment a piece flew off and hit him on the eye. he cried out, "tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?" the wolf said, "you must have been looking at me." but deception commonly leads to falsehood. "no, no," he said, "why should i want to look at you?" "hiawatha," said the wolf, "you _must_ have been looking, or you would not have been hurt." "no, no," he replied again, "i was not. i will repay the saucy wolf this," thought he to himself. so, next day, taking up a bone to obtain the marrow, he said to the wolf, "cover your head and don't look at me, for i fear a piece may fly in your eye." the wolf did so. he then took the leg-bone of the moose, and looking first to see if the wolf was well covered, he hit him a blow with all his might. the wolf jumped up, cried out, and fell prostrate from the effects of the blow. "why," said he, "do you strike me so?" "strike you!" he replied; "no, you must have been looking at me." "no," answered the wolf, "i say i have not." but he persisted in the assertion, and the poor magician had to give up. hiawatha was an expert hunter when he earnestly tried to be. he went out one day and killed a fat moose. he was very hungry, and sat down to eat. but immediately he fell into great doubts as to the proper point to begin. "well," said he, "i do not know where to begin. at the head? no! people will laugh, and say 'he ate him backwards!'" he went to the side. "no!" said he, "they will say i ate him sideways." he then went to the hind-quarter. "no!" said he, "they will say i ate him toward the head. i will begin _here_, say what they will." he took a delicate piece from the rump, and was just ready to put it in his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking sound, caused by the rubbing of one large branch against another. this annoyed him. "why!" he exclaimed, "i cannot eat while i hear such a noise. stop! stop!" said he to the tree. he was putting the morsel again to his mouth, when the noise was repeated. he put it down, exclaiming, "i _cannot eat_ in such confusion," and immediately left the meat, although very hungry, to go and put a stop to the racket. he climbed the tree and was pulling at the limb, when his arm was caught between two branches so that he could not extricate himself. while thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves coming in the direction towards his meat. "go that way! go that way!" he cried out; "why do you come here?" the wolves talked among themselves and said, "hiawatha must have something here, or he would not tell us to go another way." "i begin to know him," said an old wolf, "and all his tricks. let us go forward and see." they came on and finding the moose, soon made away with the whole carcass. hiawatha looked on wistfully to see them eat till they were fully satisfied, and they left him nothing but the bare bones. the next heavy blast of wind opened the branches and liberated him. he went home, thinking to himself, "see the effect of meddling with frivolous things when i already had valuable possessions." next day the old wolf addressed him thus: "my brother, i am going to separate from you, but i will leave behind me one of the young wolves to be your hunter." he then departed. in this act hiawatha was disenchanted, and again resumed his mortal shape. he was sorrowful and dejected, but soon resumed his wonted air of cheerfulness. the young wolf that was left with him was a good hunter, and never failed to keep the lodge well supplied with meat. one day he addressed him as follows: "my grandson, i had a dream last night, and it does not portend good. it is of the large lake which lies in _that_ direction. you must be careful never to cross it, even if the ice should appear good. if you should come to it at night weary or hungry, you must make the circuit of it." spring commenced, and the snow was melting fast before the rays of the sun, when one evening the wolf came to the lake weary with the day's chase. he disliked the journey of making its circuit. "hwooh!" he exclaimed, "there can be no great harm in trying the ice, as it appears to be sound. nesho, my grandfather, is over cautious on this point." he had gone but half way across when the ice gave way, and falling in, he was immediately seized by the serpents, who knowing he was hiawatha's grandson, were thirsting for revenge upon him. meanwhile hiawatha sat pensively in his lodge. night came on, but no grandson returned. the second and third night passed, but he did not appear. hiawatha became very desolate and sorrowful. "ah!" said he, "he must have disobeyed me, and has lost his life in that lake i told him of. well!" said he at last, "i must mourn for him." so he took coal and blackened his face. but he was much perplexed as to the right mode of mourning. "i wonder," said he, "how i must do it? i will cry 'oh! my grandson! oh! my grandson!'" he burst out laughing. "no! no! that won't do. i will try 'oh! my heart! oh! my heart! ha! ha! ha!' that won't do either. i will cry, 'oh my drowned grandson.'" this satisfied him, and he remained in his lodge and fasted, till his days of mourning were over. "now," said he, "i will go in search of him." he set out and traveled till he came to the great lake. he then raised the lamentation for his grandson which had pleased him, sitting down near a small brook that emptied itself into the lake, and repeating his cries. soon a bird called ke-ske-mun-i-see came near to him. the bird inquired, "what are you doing here?" "nothing," hiawatha replied; "but can you tell me whether any one lives in this lake, and what brings you here yourself?" "yes!" responded the bird; "the prince of serpents lives here, and i am watching to see whether the body of hiawatha's grandson will not drift ashore, for he was killed by the serpents last spring. but are you not hiawatha himself?" "no," was the reply, with his usual deceit; "how do you think _he_ could get to this place? but tell me, do the serpents ever appear? when? where? tell me all about their habits." "do you see that beautiful white sandy beach?" said the bird. "yes!" he answered. "it is there," continued the bird, "that they bask in the sun. before they come out, the lake will appear perfectly calm; not even a ripple will appear. after midday you will see them." "thank you," he replied; "i am hiawatha. i have come in search of the body of my grandson, and to seek my revenge. come near me that i may put a medal round your neck as a reward for your information." the bird unsuspectingly came near, and received a white medal, which can be seen to this day. while bestowing the medal, he attempted slyly to wring the bird's head off, but it escaped him, with only a disturbance of the crown feathers of its head, which are rumpled backward. he had found out all he wanted to know, and then desired to conceal the knowledge obtained by killing his informant. he went to the sandy beach indicated, and transformed himself into an oak stump. he had not been there long before the lake became perfectly calm. soon hundreds of monstrous serpents came crawling on the beach. one of the number was beautifully white. he was the prince. the others were red and yellow. the prince spoke to those about him as follows: "i never saw that black stump standing there before. it may be hiawatha. there is no knowing but that he may be somewhere about here. he has the power of an evil genius, and we should be on our guard against his wiles." one of the large serpents immediately went and twisted himself around it to the top, and pressed it very hard. the greatest pressure happened to be on his throat; he was just ready to cry out when the serpent let go. eight of them went in succession and did the like, but always let go at the moment he was ready to cry out. "it cannot be he," they said. "he is too great a weak-heart for that." they then coiled themselves in a circle about their prince. it was a long time before they fell asleep. when they did so, hiawatha, took his bow and arrows, and cautiously stepping over the serpents till he came to the prince, drew up his arrow with the full strength of his arm, and shot him in the left side. he then gave a saw-saw-quan and ran off at full speed. the sound uttered by the snakes on seeing their prince mortally wounded, was horrible. they cried, "hiawatha has killed our prince; go in chase of him." meantime he ran over hill and valley, to gain the interior of the country, with all his strength and speed, treading a mile at a step. but his pursuers were also spirits, and he could hear that something was approaching him fast. he made for the highest mountain, and climbed the highest tree on its summit, when, dreadful to behold, the whole lower country was seen to be overflowed, and the water was gaining rapidly on the highlands. he saw it reach to the foot of the mountains, and at length it came up to the foot of the tree, but there was no abatement. the flood rose steadily and perceptibly. he soon felt the lower part of his body to be immersed in it. he addressed the tree; "grandfather, stretch yourself." the tree did so. but the waters still rose. he repeated his request, and was again obeyed. he asked a third time, and was again obeyed; but the tree replied, "it is the last time; i cannot get any higher." the waters continued to rise till they reached up to his chin, at which point they stood, and soon began to abate. hope revived in his heart. he then cast his eyes around the illimitable expanse, and spied a loon. "dive down, my brother," he said to him, "and fetch up some earth, so that i can make a new earth." the bird obeyed, but rose up to the surface a lifeless form. he then saw a muskrat. "dive!" said he, "and if you succeed, you may hereafter live either on land or water, as you please; or i will give you a chain of beautiful little lakes, surrounded with rushes, to inhabit." he dove down, but floated up senseless. he took the body and breathed in his nostrils, which restored him to life. "try again," said he. the muskrat did so. he came up senseless the second time, but clutched a little earth in one of his paws, from which, together with the carcass of the dead loon, he created a new earth as large as the former had been, with all living animals, fowls, and plants. as he was walking to survey the new earth, he heard some one singing. he went to the place, and found a female spirit, in the disguise of an old woman, singing these words, and crying at every pause: "ma nau bo sho, o dó zheem un, ogeem au wun, onis sa waun, hee-ub bub ub bub (crying). dread hiawatha in revenge, for his grandson lost-- has killed the chief--the king." "noko," said he, "what is the matter?" "matter!" said she, "where have you been, that you have not heard how hiawatha shot my son, the prince of serpents, in revenge for the loss of his grandson, and how the earth was overflowed, and created anew? so i brought my son here, that he might kill and destroy the inhabitants, as he did on the former earth. but," she continued, casting a scrutinizing glance, "n'yau! indego hiawatha! hub! ub! ub! ub! oh, i am afraid you are hiawatha!" he burst out into a laugh to quiet her fears. "ha! ha! ha! how can that be? has not the old world perished, and all that was in it?" "impossible! impossible!" "but, noko," he continued, "what do you intend doing with all that cedar cord on your back?" "why," said she, "i am fixing a snare for hiawatha, if he should be on this earth; and, in the mean time, i am looking for herbs to heal my son. i am the only person that can do him any good. he always gets better when i sing: "'hiawatha a ne we guawk, koan dan mau wah, ne we guawk, koan dan mau wah, ne we guawk, it is hiawatha's dart, i try my magic power to withdraw." having found out, by conversation with her, all he wished, he put her to death. he then took off her skin, and assuming this disguise, took the cedar cord on his back, and limped away singing her songs. he completely aped the gait and voice of the old woman. he was met by one who told him to make haste; that the prince was worse. at the lodge, limping and muttering, he took notice that they had his grandson's hide to hang over the door. "oh dogs!" said he; "the evil dogs!" he sat down near the door, and commenced sobbing like an aged woman. one observed, "why don't you attend the sick, and not sit there making such a noise?" he took up the poker and laid it on them, mimicking the voice of the old woman. "dogs that you are! why do you laugh at me? you know very well that i am so sorry that i am nearly out of my head." with that he approached the prince, singing the songs of the old woman, without exciting any suspicion. he saw that his arrow had gone in about one half its length. he pretended to make preparations for extracting it, but only made ready to finish his victim; and giving the dart a sudden thrust, he put a period to the prince's life. he performed this act with the power of a giant, bursting the old woman's skin, and at the same moment rushing through the door, the serpents following him, hissing and crying out, "perfidy! murder! vengeance! it is hiawatha." he immediately transformed himself into a wolf, and ran over the plain with all his speed, aided by his father the west wind. when he got to the mountains he saw a badger. "brother," said he, "make a hole quick, for the serpents are after me." the badger obeyed. they both went in, and the badger threw all the earth backward, so that it filled up the way behind. the serpents came to the badger's burrow, and decided to watch, "we will starve him out," said they; so they continue watching. hiawatha told the badger to make an opening on the other side of the mountain, from which he could go out and hunt, and bring meat in. thus they lived some time. one day the badger came in his way and displeased him. he immediately put him to death, and threw out his carcass, saying, "i don't like you to be getting in my way so often." after living in this confinement for some time alone, he decided to go out. he immediately did so; and after making the circuit of the mountain, came to the corpse of the prince, who had been deserted by the serpents to pursue his destroyer. he went to work and skinned him. he then drew on his skin, in which there were great virtues, took up his war-club, and set out for the place where he first went in the ground. he found the serpents still watching. when they saw the form of their dead prince advancing towards them, fear and dread took hold of them. some fled. those who remained hiawatha killed. those who fled went towards the south. having accomplished the victory over the reptiles, hiawatha returned to his former place of dwelling and married the arrow-maker's daughter. legendary heroes of many countries heroes of greece and rome perseus adapted by mary macgregor i perseus and his mother once upon a time there were two princes who were twins. they lived in a pleasant vale far away in hellas. they had fruitful meadows and vineyards, sheep and oxen, great herds of horses, and all that men could need to make them blest. and yet they were wretched, because they were jealous of each other. from the moment they were born they began to quarrel, and when they grew up, each tried to take away the other's share of the kingdom and keep all for himself. and there came a prophet to one of the hard-hearted princes and said, "because you have risen up against your own family, your own family shall rise up against you. because you have sinned against your kindred, by your kindred shall you be punished. your daughter danæ shall bear a son, and by that son's hands you shall die. so the gods have said, and it shall surely come to pass." at that the hard-hearted prince was very much afraid, but he did not mend his ways. for when he became king, he shut up his fair daughter danæ in a cavern underground, lined with brass, that no one might come near her. so he fancied himself more cunning than the gods. now it came to pass that in time danæ bore a son, so beautiful a babe that any but the king would have had pity on it. but he had no pity, for he took danæ and her babe down to the seashore, and put them into a great chest and thrust them out to sea, that the winds and the waves might carry them whithersoever they would. and away and out to sea before the northwest wind floated the mother and her babe, while all who watched them wept, save that cruel king. so they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the billows, and the babe slept in its mother's arms. but the poor mother could not sleep, but watched and wept, and she sang to her babe as they floated. now they are past the last blue headland and in the open sea. there is nothing round them but waves, and the sky and the wind. but the waves are gentle and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender and low. so a night passed and a day, and a long day it was to danæ, and another night and day beside, till danæ was faint with hunger and weeping, and yet no land appeared. and all the while the babe slept quietly, and at last poor danæ drooped her head and fell asleep likewise, with her cheek against her babe's. after a while she was awakened suddenly, for the chest was jarring and grinding, and the air was full of sound. she looked up, and over her head were mighty cliffs, and around her rocks and breakers and flying flakes of foam. she clasped her hands together and shrieked aloud for help. and when she cried, help met her, for now there came over the rocks a tall and stately man, and looked down wondering upon poor danæ, tossing about in the chest among the waves. he wore a rough cloak, and on his head a broad hat to shade his face, and in his hand he carried a trident, which is a three-pronged fork for spearing fish, and over his shoulder was a casting net. [illustration: so danae was comforted and went home with dictys.] but danæ could see that he was no common man by his height and his walk, and his flowing golden hair and beard, and by the two servants who came behind him carrying baskets for his fish. she had hardly time to look at him, before he had laid aside his trident and leapt down the rocks, and thrown his casting net so surely over danæ and the chest, that he drew it and her and the babe safe upon a ledge of rock. then the fisherman took danæ by the hand and lifted her out of the chest and said, "o beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this island in so frail a ship? who are you, and whence? surely you are some king's daughter, and this boy belongs to the gods." and as he spoke he pointed to the babe, for its face shone like the morning star. but danæ only held down her head and sobbed out, "tell me to what land i have come, and among what men i have fallen." and he said, "polydectes is king of this isle, and he is my brother. men call me dictys the netter, because i catch the fish of the shore." then danæ fell down at his feet and embraced his knees and cried, "o sir, have pity upon a stranger, whom cruel doom has driven to your land, and let me live in your house as a servant. but treat me honorably, for i was once a king's daughter, and this my boy is of no common race. i will not be a charge to you, or eat the bread of idleness, for i am more skilful in weaving and embroidery than all the maidens of my land." and she was going on, but dictys stopped her and raised her up and said, "my daughter, i am old, and my hairs are growing gray, while i have no children to make my home cheerful. come with me, then, and you shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall be our grandchild." so danæ was comforted and went home with dictys, the good fisherman, and was a daughter to him and to his wife, till fifteen years were past. ii how perseus vowed a rash vow fifteen years were past and gone, and the babe was now grown to be a tall lad and a sailor. his mother called him perseus, but all the people in the isle called him the king of the immortals. for though he was but fifteen, perseus was taller by a head than any man in the island. and he was brave and truthful, and gentle and courteous, for good old dictys had trained him well, and well it was for perseus that he had done so. for now danæ and her son fell into great danger, and perseus had need of all his strength to defend his mother and himself. polydectes, the king of the island, was not a good man like his brother dictys, but he was greedy and cunning and cruel. and when he saw fair danæ, he wanted to marry her. but she would not, for she did not love him, and cared for no one but her boy. at last polydectes became furious, and while perseus was away at sea, he took poor danæ away from dictys, saying, "if you will not be my wife, you shall be my slave." so danæ was made a slave, and had to fetch water from the well, and grind in the mill. but perseus was far away over the seas, little thinking that his mother was in great grief and sorrow. now one day, while the ship was lading, perseus wandered into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf and fell asleep. and as he slept a strange dream came to him, the strangest dream he had ever had in his life. there came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal man, but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing, but strangely soft and mild. on her head was a helmet, and in her hand a spear. and over her shoulder, above her long blue robes, hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass, polished like a mirror. she stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes. and perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady spoke. "perseus, you must do an errand for me." "who are you, lady? and how do you know my name?" then the strange lady, whose name was athene, laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and cried, "see here, perseus, dare you face such a monster as this and slay it, that i may place its head upon this shield?" and in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as perseus looked on it his blood ran cold. it was the face of a beautiful woman, but her cheeks were pale, and her lips were thin. instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples and shot out their forked tongues, and she had claws of brass. perseus looked awhile and then said, "if there is anything so fierce and ugly on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it. where can i find the monster?" then the strange lady smiled again and said, "you are too young, for this is medusa the gorgon. return to your home, and when you have done the work that awaits you there, you may be worthy to go in search of the monster." perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he awoke, and behold it was a dream. so he returned home, and the first thing he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of polydectes. grinding his teeth with rage, he went out, and away to the king's palace, and through the men's rooms and the women's rooms, and so through all the house, till he found his mother sitting on the floor turning the stone hand-mill, and weeping as she turned it. and he lifted her up and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth. but before they could pass out of the room polydectes came in. when perseus saw the king, he flew upon him and cried, "tyrant! is this thy mercy to strangers and widows? thou shalt die." and because he had no sword he caught up the stone hand-mill, and lifted it to dash out polydectes's brains. but his mother clung to him, shrieking, and good dictys too entreated him to remember that the cruel king was his brother. then perseus lowered his hand, and polydectes, who had been trembling all this while like a coward, let perseus and his mother pass. so perseus took his mother to the temple of athené, and there the priestess made her one of the temple sweepers. and there they knew that she would be safe, for not even polydectes would dare to drag her out of the temple. and there perseus and the good dictys and his wife came to visit her every day. as for polydectes, not being able to get danæ by force, he cast about how he might get her by cunning. he was sure he could never get back danæ as long as perseus was in the island, so he made a plot to get rid of him. first he pretended to have forgiven perseus, and to have forgotten danæ, so that for a while all went smoothly. next he proclaimed a great feast and invited to it all the chiefs and the young men of the island, and among them perseus, that they might all do him homage as their king, and eat of his banquet in his hall. on the appointed day they all came, and as the custom was then, each guest brought with him a present for the king. one brought a horse, another a shawl, or a ring, or a sword, and some brought baskets of grapes, but perseus brought nothing, for he had nothing to bring, being only a poor sailor lad. he was ashamed, however, to go into the king's presence without a gift. so he stood at the door, sorrowfully watching the rich men go in, and his face grew very red as they pointed at him and smiled and whispered, "and what has perseus to give?" perseus blushed and stammered, while all the proud men round laughed and mocked, till the lad grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing what he said, cried out: "a present! see if i do not bring a nobler one than all of yours together!" "hear the boaster! what is the present to be?" cried they all, laughing louder than ever. then perseus remembered his strange dream, and he cried aloud, "the head of medusa the gorgon!" he was half afraid after he had said the words, for all laughed louder than ever, and polydectes loudest of all, while he said: "you have promised to bring me the gorgon's head. then never appear again in this island without it. go!" perseus saw that he had fallen into a trap, but he went out without a word. down to the cliffs he went, and looked across the broad blue sea, and wondered if his dream were true. "athene, was my dream true? shall i slay the gorgon?" he prayed. "rashly and angrily i promised, but wisely and patiently will i perform." but there was no answer nor sign, not even a cloud in the sky. three times perseus called, weeping, "rashly and angrily i promised, but wisely and patiently will i perform." then he saw afar off a small white cloud, as bright as silver. and as it touched the cliffs, it broke and parted, and within it appeared athene, and beside her a young man, whose eyes were like sparks of fire. and they came swiftly towards perseus, and he fell down and worshiped, for he knew they were more than mortal. but athene spoke gently to him and bade him have no fear. "perseus," she said, "you have braved polydectes, and done manfully. dare you brave medusa the gorgon?" perseus answered, "try me, for since you spoke to me, new courage has come into my soul." and athene said, "perseus, this deed requires a seven years' journey, in which you cannot turn back nor escape. if your heart fails, you must die, and no man will ever find your bones." and perseus said, "tell me, o fair and wise athene, how i can do but this one thing, and then, if need be, die." then athene smiled and said, "be patient and listen. you must go northward till you find the three gray sisters, who have but one eye and one tooth amongst them. ask them the way to the daughters of the evening star, for they will tell you the way to the gorgon, that you may slay her. but beware! for her eyes are so terrible that whosoever looks on them is turned to stone." "how am i to escape her eyes?" said perseus; "will she not freeze me too?" "you shall take this polished shield," said athene, "and look, not at her herself, but at her image in the shield, so you may strike her safely. and when you have struck off her head, wrap it, with your face turned away, in the folds of the goat-skin on which the shield hangs. so you bring it safely back to me and win yourself renown and a place among heroes." then said perseus, "i will go, though i die in going. but how shall i cross the seas without a ship? and who will show me the way? and how shall i slay her, if her scales be iron and brass?" but the young man who was with athene spoke, "these sandals of mine will bear you across the seas, and over hill and dale like a bird, as they bear me all day long. the sandals themselves will guide you on the road, for they are divine and cannot stray, and this sword itself will kill her, for it is divine and needs no second stroke. arise and gird them on, and go forth." so perseus arose, and girded on the sandals and the sword. and athene cried, "now leap from the cliff and be gone!" then perseus looked down the cliff and shuddered, but he was ashamed to show his dread, and he leaped into the empty air. and behold! instead of falling, he floated, and stood, and ran along the sky. iii how perseus slew the gorgon so perseus started on his journey, going dryshod over land and sea, and his heart was high and joyful, for the sandals bore him each day a seven days' journey. and at last by the shore of a freezing sea, beneath the cold winter moon, he found the three gray sisters. there was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the rocks. they passed their one eye each to the other, but for all that they could not see, and they passed the one tooth from one to the other, but for all that they could not eat, and they sat in the full glare of the moon, but they were none the warmer for her beams. and perseus said, "tell me, o venerable mothers, the path to the daughters of the evening star." they heard his voice, and then one cried, "give me the eye that i may see him," and another, "give me the tooth that i may bite him," but they had no answer for his question. then perseus stepped close to them, and watched as they passed the eye from hand to hand. and as they groped about, he held out his own hand gently, till one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her sister. at that perseus sprang back and laughed and cried, "cruel old women, i have your eye, and i will throw it into the sea, unless you tell me the path to the daughters of the evening star and swear to me that you tell me right." then they wept and chattered and scolded, but all in vain. they were forced to tell the truth, though when they told it, perseus could hardly make out the way. but he gave them back the eye and leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and ice behind. at last he heard sweet voices singing, and he guessed that he was come to the garden of the daughters of the evening star. when they saw him they trembled and said, "are you come to rob our garden and carry off our golden fruit?" but perseus answered, "i want none of your golden fruit. tell me the way which leads to the gorgon that i may go on my way and slay her." "not yet, not yet, fair boy," they answered, "come dance with us around the trees in the garden." "i cannot dance with you, fair maidens, so tell me the way to the gorgon, lest i wander and perish in the waves." then they sighed and wept, and answered, "the gorgon! she will freeze you into stone." but perseus said, "the gods have lent me weapons, and will give me wisdom to use them." then the fair maidens told him that the gorgon lived on an island far away, but that whoever went near the island must wear the hat of darkness, so that he could not himself be seen. and one of the fair maidens held in her hand the magic hat. while all the maidens kissed perseus and wept over him, he was only impatient to be gone. so at last they put the magic hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight. and perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, till he heard the rustle of the gorgons' wings and saw the glitter of their brazen claws. then he knew that it was time to halt, lest medusa should freeze him into stone. he thought awhile with himself and remembered athene's words. then he rose into the air, and held the shield above his head and looked up into it, that he might see all that was below him. and he saw three gorgons sleeping, as huge as elephants. he knew that they could not see him, because the hat of darkness hid him, and yet he trembled as he sank down near them, so terrible were those brazen claws. medusa tossed to and fro restlessly in her sleep. her long neck gleamed so white in the mirror that perseus had not the heart to strike. but as he looked, from among her tresses the vipers' heads awoke and peeped up, with their bright dry eyes, and showed their fangs and hissed. and medusa as she tossed showed her brazen claws, and perseus saw that for all her beauty she was as ugly as the others. then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly on his mirror, and struck with his sword stoutly once, and he did not need to strike again. he wrapped the head in the goat-skin, turning away his eyes, and sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before. and well his brave sandals bore him through cloud and sunshine across the shoreless sea, till he came again to the gardens of the fair maidens. then he asked them, "by what road shall i go homeward again?" and they wept and cried, "go home no more, but stay and play with us, the lonely maidens." but perseus refused and leapt down the mountain, and went on like a sea-gull, away and out to sea. iv how perseus met andromeda so perseus flitted onward to the north-east, over many a league of sea, till he came to the rolling sandhills of the desert. over the sands he went, he never knew how far nor how long, hoping all day to see the blue sparkling mediterranean, that he might fly across it to his home. but now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward the desert. all day long he strove against it, but even the sandals could not prevail. and when morning came there was nothing to be seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand. at last the gale fell, and he tried to go northward again, but again down came the sandstorms and swept him back into the desert; and then all was calm and cloudless as before. then he cried to athene, "shall i never see my mother more, and the blue ripple of the sea and the sunny hills of hellas?" so he prayed, and after he had prayed there was a great silence. and perseus stood still awhile and waited, and said, "surely i am not here but by the will of the gods, for athené will not lie. were not these sandals to lead me in the right road?" then suddenly his ears were opened and he heard the sound of running water. and perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the cliff and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept on the turf, and leapt up and went forward again, but not toward the north this time. for he said, "surely athene hath sent me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. what if there be another noble deed to be done before i see the sunny hills of hellas?" so perseus flew along the shore above the sea, and at the dawn of a day he looked towards the cliffs. at the water's edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand. "this," thought he, "must surely be the statue of some sea-god. i will go near and see." and he came near, but when he came it was no statue he found, but a maiden of flesh and blood, for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze. and as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray. her arms were spread above her head and fastened to the rock with chains of brass, and her head drooped either with sleep or weariness or grief. but now and then she looked up and wailed, and called her mother. yet she did not see perseus, for the cap of darkness was on his head. in his heart pity and indignation, perseus drew near and looked upon the maid. her cheeks were darker than his, and her hair was blue-black like a hyacinth. perseus thought, "i have never seen so beautiful a maiden, no, not in all our isles. surely she is a king's daughter. she is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong. i will speak to her," and, lifting the magic hat from his head, he flashed into her sight. she shrieked with terror, but perseus cried, "do not fear me, fair one. what cruel men have bound you? but first i will set you free." and he tore at the fetters, but they were too strong for him, while the maiden cried, "touch me not. i am a victim for the sea-gods. they will slay you if you dare to set me free." "let them try," said perseus, and drawing his sword he cut through the brass as if it had been flax. "now," he said, "you belong to me, and not to these sea-gods, whosoever they may be." but she only called the more on her mother. then he clasped her in his arms, and cried, "where are these sea-gods, cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? let them measure their strength against mine. but tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here." and she answered, weeping, "i am the daughter of a king, and my mother is the queen with the beautiful tresses, and they call me andromeda. i stand here to atone for my mother's sin, for she boasted of me once that i was fairer than the queen of the fishes. so she in her wrath sent the sea-floods and wasted all the land. and now i must be devoured by a sea-monster to atone for a sin which i never committed." but perseus laughed and said, "a sea-monster! i have fought with worse than he." andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her heart, so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the other the glittering sword. but still she sighed and said, "why will you die, young as you are? go you your way, i must go mine." perseus cried, "not so: i slew the gorgon by the help of the gods, and not without them do i come hither to slay this monster, with that same gorgon's head. yet hide your eyes when i leave you, lest the sight of it freeze you too to stone." but the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words. then suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea and shrieked, "there he comes with the sunrise as they said. i must die now. oh go!" and she tried to thrust him away. and perseus said, "i go, yet promise me one thing ere i go,--that if i slay this beast you will be my wife and come back with me to my kingdom, for i am a king's son. promise me, and seal it with a kiss." then she lifted up her face and kissed him, and perseus laughed for joy and flew upward, while andromeda crouched trembling on the rock. on came the great sea-monster, lazily breasting the ripple and stopping at times by creek or headland. his great sides were fringed with clustering shells and seaweeds, and the water gurgled in and out of his wide jaws as he rolled along. at last he saw andromeda and shot forward to take his prey. then down from the height of the air fell perseus like a shooting star, down to the crests of the waves, while andromeda hid her face as he shouted, and then there was silence for a while. when at last she looked up trembling, andromeda saw perseus springing towards her, and instead of the monster, a long black rock, with the sea rippling quietly round it. who then so proud as perseus, as he leapt back to the rock and lifted his fair andromeda in his arms and flew with her to the cliff-top, as a falcon carries a dove! who so proud as perseus, and who so joyful as the people of the land! and the king and the queen came, and all the people came with songs and dances to receive andromeda back again, as one alive from the dead. then the king said to perseus, "hero of the hellens, stay here with me and be my son-in-law, and i will give you the half of my kingdom." "i will be your son-in-law," said perseus, "but of your kingdom will i have none, for i long after the pleasant land of greece, and my mother who waits for me at home." then said the king, "you must not take my daughter away at once, for she is to us as one alive from the dead. stay with us here a year, and after that you shall return with honor." and perseus consented, but before he went to the palace he bade the people bring stones and wood and build an altar to athené, and there he offered bullocks and rams. then they made a great wedding feast, which lasted seven whole days. but on the eighth night perseus dreamed a dream. he saw standing beside him athené as he had seen her seven long years before, and she stood and called him by name, and said, "perseus, you have played the man, and see, you have your reward. now give me the sword and the sandals, and the hat of darkness, that i may give them back to those to whom they belong. but the gorgon's head you shall keep a while, for you will need it in your land of hellas." and perseus rose to give her the sword, and the cap, and the sandals, but he woke and his dream vanished away. yet it was not altogether a dream, for the goat-skin with the head was in its place, but the sword and the cap and the sandals were gone, and perseus never saw them more. v how perseus came home again when a year was ended, perseus rowed away in a noble galley, and in it he put andromeda and all her dowry of jewels and rich shawls and spices from the east, and great was the weeping when they rowed away. and when perseus reached the land, of hellas he left his galley on the beach, and went up as of old. he embraced his mother and dictys, and they wept over each other, for it was seven years and more since they had parted. then perseus went out and up to the hall of polydectes, and underneath the goat-skin he bore the gorgon's head. when he came to the hall, polydectes sat at the table, and all his nobles on either side, feasting on fish and goats' flesh, and drinking blood-red wine. perseus stood upon the threshold and called to the king by name. but none of the guests knew the stranger, for he was changed by his long journey. he had gone out a boy, and he was come home a hero. but polydectes the wicked, knew him, and scornfully he called, "ah, foundling! have you found it more easy to promise than to fulfil?" "those whom the gods help fulfil their promises," said perseus, as he drew back the goat-skin and held aloft the gorgon's head, saying, "behold!" pale grew polydectes and his guests as they looked upon that dreadful face. they tried to rise from their seats, but from their seats they never rose, but stiffened, each man where he sat, into a ring of cold gray stones. then perseus turned and left them, and went down to his galley in the bay. he gave the kingdom to good dictys, and sailed away with his mother and his bride. and perseus rowed westward till he came to his old home, and there he found that his grandfather had fled. the heart of perseus yearned after his grandfather, and he said, "surely he will love me now that i am come home with honor. i will go and find him and bring him back, and we will reign together in peace." so perseus sailed away, and at last he came to the land where his grandfather dwelt, and all the people were in the fields, and there was feasting and all kinds of games. then perseus did not tell his name, but went up to the games unknown, for he said, "if i carry away the prize in the games, my grandfather's heart will be softened towards me." and when the games began, perseus was the best of all at running and leaping, and wrestling and throwing. and he won four crowns and took them. then he said to himself, "there is a fifth crown to be won. i will win that also, and lay them all upon the knees of my grandfather." so he took the stones and hurled them five fathoms beyond all the rest. and the people shouted, "there has never been such a hurler in this land!" again perseus put out all his strength and hurled. but a gust of wind came from the sea and carried the quoit aside, far beyond all the rest. and it fell on the foot of his grandfather, and he swooned away with the pain. perseus shrieked and ran up to him, but when they lifted the old man up, he was dead. then perseus rent his clothes and cast dust on his head, and wept a long while for his grandfather. at last he rose and called to all people aloud and said, "the gods are true: what they have ordained must be; i am perseus the grandson of this dead man." then he told them how a prophet had said that he should kill his grandfather. so they made great mourning for the old king, and burnt him on a right rich pile. and perseus went to the temple and was purified from the guilt of his death, because he had done it unknowingly. then he went home and reigned well with andromeda, and they had four sons and three daughters. and when they died, the ancients say that athené took them up to the sky. all night long perseus and andromeda shine as a beacon for wandering sailors, but all day long they feast with the gods, on the still blue peaks in the home of the immortals. odysseus adapted by jeanie lang i how odysseus left troyland and sailed for his kingdom past the land of the lotus eaters in the days of long ago there reigned over ithaca, a rugged little island in the sea to the west of greece, a king whose name was odysseus. odysseus feared no man. stronger and braver than other men was he, wiser, and more full of clever devices. far and wide he was known as odysseus of the many counsels. wise, also, was his queen, penelope, and she was as fair as she was wise, and as good as she was fair. while their only child, a boy named telemachus, was still a baby, there was a very great war in troyland, a country far across the sea. the brother of the overlord of all greece beseiged troy, and the kings and princes of his land came to help him. many came from afar, but none from a more distant kingdom than odysseus. wife and child and old father he left behind him and sailed away with his black-prowed ships to fight in troyland. for ten years the siege of troy went on, and of the heroes who fought there, none was braver than odysseus. clad as a beggar he went into the city and found out much to help the greek armies. with his long sword he fought his way out again, and left many of the men of troy lying dead behind him. and many other brave feats did odysseus do. after long years of fighting, troy at last was taken. with much rich plunder the besiegers sailed homewards, and odysseus set sail for his rocky island, with its great mountain, and its forests of trembling leaves. of gladness and of longing his heart was full. with a great love he loved his fair wife and little son and old father, and his little kingdom by the sea was very dear to him. "i can see nought beside sweeter than a man's own country," he said. very soon he hoped to see his dear land again, but many a long and weary day was to pass ere odysseus came home. odysseus was a warrior, and always he would choose to fight rather than to be at peace. as he sailed on his homeward way, winds drove his ships near the shore. he and his company landed, sacked the nearest city, and slew the people. much rich plunder they took, but ere they could return to their ships, a host of people came from inland. in the early morning, thick as leaves and flowers in the spring they came, and fell upon odysseus and his men. all day they fought, but as the sun went down the people of the land won the fight. back to their ships went odysseus and his men. out of each ship were six men slain. while they were yet sad at heart and weary from the fight, a terrible tempest arose. land and sea were blotted out, the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the might of the storm. for two days and two nights the ships were at the mercy of the tempests. at dawn on the third day, the storm passed away, and odysseus and his men set up their masts and hoisted their white sails, and drove homeward before the wind. so he would have come safely to his own country, but a strong current and a fierce north wind swept the ships from their course. for nine days were they driven far from their homeland, across the deep sea. on the tenth day they reached the land of the lotus eaters. the dwellers in that land fed on the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus flower. those who ate the lotus ceased to remember that there was a past or a future. all duties they forgot, and all sadness. all day long they would sit and dream and dream idle, happy dreams that never ended. here odysseus and his men landed and drew water. three of his warriors odysseus sent into the country to see what manner of men dwelt there. to them the lotus eaters gave their honey-sweet food, and no sooner had each man eaten than he had no wish ever to return to the ships. he longed for ever to stay in that pleasant land, eating the lotus fruit, and dreaming the happy hours away. back to the ships odysseus dragged the unwilling men, weeping that they must leave so much joy behind. beneath the benches of his ship he tightly bound them, and swiftly he made his ships sail from the shore, lest yet others of his company might eat of the lotus and forget their homes and their kindred. soon they had all embarked, and, with heavy hearts, the men of ithaca smote the gray sea-water with their long oars, and sped away from the land of forgetfulness and of sweet day-dreams. ii how odysseus came to the land of the cyclÔpes, and his adventures there on and on across the waves sailed the dark-prowed ships of odysseus, until again they came to land. it was the land of the cyclôpes, a savage and lawless people, who never planted, nor plowed, nor sowed, and whose fields yet gave them rich harvests of wheat and of barley, and vines with heavy clusters of grapes. in deep caves, high up on the hills, these people dwelt, and each man ruled his own wife and children, but himself knew no ruler. outside the harbor of the land of the cyclôpes lay a thickly wooded island. no hunters went there, for the cyclôpes owned neither ships nor boats, so that many goats roamed unharmed through the woods and cropped the fresh green grass. it was a green and pleasant land. rich meadows stretched down to the sea, the vines grew strong and fruitful, and there was a fair harbor where ships might be run right on to the beach. at the head of the harbor was a well of clear water flowing out of a cave, and with poplars growing around it. thither odysseus directed his ships. it was dark night, with no moon to guide, and mist lay deep on either side, yet they passed the breakers and rolling surf without knowing it, and anchored safely on the beach. all night they slept, and when rosy dawn came they explored the island and slew with their bows and long spears many of the wild goats of the woods. all the livelong day odysseus and his men sat and feasted. as they ate and drank, they looked across the water at the land of the cyclôpes, where the smoke of wood fires curled up to the sky, and from whence they could hear the sound of men's voices and the bleating of sheep and goats. when darkness fell, they lay down to sleep on the sea-beach, and when morning dawned odysseus called his men together and said to them: "stay here, all the rest of you, my dear companions, but i will go with my own ship and my ship's company and see what kind of men are those who dwell in this land across the harbor." so saying, he climbed into his ship, and his men rowed him across to the land of the cyclôpes. when they were near the shore they saw a great cave by the sea. it was roofed in with green laurel boughs and seemed to be meant for a fold to shelter sheep and goats. round about it a high outer wall was firmly built with stones, and with tall and leafy pines and oak-trees. in this cave, all alone with his flocks and herds, dwelt a huge and hideous one-eyed giant. polyphemus was his name, and his father was poseidon, god of the sea. taking twelve of his best men with him, odysseus left the others to guard the ship and sallied forth to the giant's cave. with him he carried a goat-skin full of precious wine, dark red, and sweet and strong, and a large sack of corn. soon they came to the cave, but polyphemus was not there. he had taken off his flocks to graze in the green meadows, leaving behind him in the cave folds full of lambs and kids. the walls of the cave were lined with cheeses, and there were great pans full of whey, and giant bowls full of milk. "let us first of all take the cheeses," said the men of odysseus to their king, "and carry them to the ships. then let us return and drive all the kids and lambs from their folds down to the shore, and sail with them in our swift ships homeward over the sea." but odysseus would not listen to what they said. he was too great hearted to steal into the cave like a thief and take away the giant's goods without first seeing whether polyphemus might not treat him as a friend, receiving from him the corn and wine he had brought, and giving him gifts in return. so they kindled a fire, and dined on some of the cheeses, and sat waiting for the giant to return. towards evening he came, driving his flocks before him, and carrying on his back a huge load of firewood, which he cast down on the floor with such a thunderous noise that odysseus and his men fled in fear and hid themselves in the darkest corners of the cave. when he had driven his sheep inside, polyphemus lifted from the ground a rock so huge that two-and-twenty four-wheeled wagons could not have borne it, and with it blocked the doorway. then, sitting down, he milked the ewes and bleating goats, and placed the lambs and kids each beside its own mother. half of the milk he curdled and placed in wicker baskets to make into cheeses, and the other half he left in great pails to drink when he should have supper. when all this was done, he kindled a fire, and when the flames had lit up the dark-walled cave he spied odysseus and his men. "strangers, who are ye?" he asked, in his great, rumbling voice. "whence sail ye over the watery ways? are ye merchants? or are ye sea-robbers who rove over the sea, risking your own lives and bringing evil to other men?" the sound of the giant's voice, and his hideous face filled the hearts of the men with terror, but odysseus made answer: "from troy we come, seeking our home, but driven hither by winds and waves. men of agamemnon, the renowned and most mightily victorious greek general, are we, yet to thee we come and humbly beg for friendship." at this the giant, who had nothing but cruelty in his heart, mocked at odysseus. "thou art a fool," said he, "and i shall not spare either thee or thy company. but tell me where thou didst leave thy good ship? was it near here, or at the far end of the island?" but odysseus of the many counsels knew that the giant asked the question only to bring evil on the men who stayed by the ship, and so he answered: "my ship was broken in pieces by the storm and cast up on the rocks on the shore, but i, with these my men, escaped from death." not one word said polyphemus in reply, but sprang up, clutched hold of two of the men, and dashed their brains out on the stone floor. then he cut them up, and made ready his supper, eating the two men, bones and all, as if he had been a starving lion, and taking great draughts of the milk from the giant pails. when his meal was done, he stretched himself on the ground beside his sheep and goats, and slept. in helpless horror odysseus and his men had watched the dreadful sight, but when the monster slept they began to make plans for their escape. at first odysseus thought it might be best to take his sharp sword and stab polyphemus in the breast. but then he knew that even were he thus to slay the giant, he and his men must die. for strength was not left them to roll away the rock from the cave's mouth, and so they must perish like rats in a trap. all night they thought what they should do, but could think of nought that would avail, and so they could only moan in their bitterness of heart and wait for the dawn. when dawn's rosy fingers touched the sky, polyphemus awoke. he kindled a fire, and milked his flocks, and gave each ewe her lamb. when this work was done he snatched yet other two men, dashed their brains out, and made of them his morning meal. after the meal, he lifted the stone from the door, drove the flocks out, and set the stone back again. then, with a loud shout, he turned his sheep and goats towards the hills and left odysseus and his remaining eight men imprisoned in the cave, plotting and planning how to get away, and how to avenge the death of their comrades. at last odysseus thought of a plan. by the sheepfold there lay a huge club of green olive wood that polyphemus had cut and was keeping until it should be dry enough to use as a staff. so huge was it that odysseus and his men likened it to the mast of a great merchant vessel. from this club odysseus cut a large piece and gave it to his men to fine down and make even. while they did this, odysseus himself sharpened it to a point and hardened the point in the fire. when it was ready, they hid it amongst the rubbish on the floor of the cave. then odysseus made his men draw lots who should help him to lift this bar and drive it into the eye of the giant as he slept, and the lot fell upon the four men that odysseus would himself have chosen. in the evening polyphemus came down from the hills with his flocks and drove them all inside the cave. then he lifted the great doorstone and blocked the doorway, milked the ewes and goats, and gave each lamb and kid to its mother. this done, he seized other two of the men, dashed out their brains, and made ready his supper. from the shadows of the cave odysseus now stepped forward, bearing in his hands an ivy bowl, full of the dark red wine. "drink wine after thy feast of men's flesh," said odysseus, "and see what manner of drink this was that our ship held." polyphemus grasped the bowl, gulped down the strong wine, and smacked his great lips over its sweetness. "give me more," he cried, "and tell me thy name straightway, that i may give thee a gift. mighty clusters of grapes do the vines of our land bear for us, but this is a rill of very nectar and ambrosia." again odysseus gave him the bowl full of wine, and yet again, until the strong wine went to the giant's head and made him stupid. then said odysseus: "thou didst ask me my name, and didst say that thou wouldst give me a gift. noman is my name, and noman they call me, my father and mother and all my fellows." then answered the giant out of his pitiless heart: "i will eat thy fellows first, noman, and thee the last of all. that shall be thy gift." soon the wine made him so sleepy that he sank backwards with his great face upturned and fell fast asleep. as soon as the giant slept, odysseus thrust into the fire the stake he had prepared, and made it red hot, all the while speaking cheerfully and comfortingly to his men. when it was so hot that the wood, green though it was, began to blaze, they drew it out and thrust it into the giant's eye. round and round they whirled the fiery pike, as a man bores a hole in a plank, until the blood gushed out, and the eye frizzled and hissed, and the flames singed and burned the eyelids, and the eye was burned out. with a great and terrible cry the giant sprang to his feet, and odysseus and the others fled from before him. from his eye he dragged the blazing pike, all dripping with his blood, and dashed it to the ground. then, maddened with pain, he called with a great and terrible cry on the other cyclôpes, who dwelt in their caves on the hill-tops round which the wind swept. the giants, hearing his horrid yells, rushed to help him. "what ails thee, polyphemus?" they asked. "why dost thou cry aloud in the night and awake us from our sleep? surely no one stealeth thy flocks? none slayeth thee by force or by craft." from the other side of the great stone moaned polyphemus: "noman is slaying me by craft." then the cyclôpes said: "if no man is hurting thee, then indeed it must be a sickness that makes thee cry so loud, and this thou must bear, for we cannot help." with that they strode away from the cave and left the blind giant groaning and raging with pain. groping with his hands, he found the great stone that blocked the door, lifted it away, and sat himself down in the mouth of the cave, with his arms stretched out, hoping to catch odysseus and his men if they should try to escape. sitting there, he fell asleep, and, as soon as he slept, odysseus planned and plotted how best to win freedom. the rams of the giant's flocks were great strong beasts, with fleeces thick and woolly, and as dark as the violet. with twisted slips of willow odysseus lashed every three of them together, and under the middle ram of each three he bound one of his men. for himself he kept the best ram of the flock, young and strong, and with a fleece wonderfully thick and shaggy. underneath this ram odysseus curled himself, and clung, face upwards, firmly grasping the wool with his hands. in this wise did he and his men wait patiently for the dawn. when rosy dawn came, the ewes in the pens bleated to be milked and the rams hastened out to the hills and green meadows. as each sheep passed him, polyphemus felt along its back, but never guessed that the six remaining men of odysseus were bound beneath the thick-fleeced rams. last of all came the young ram to which odysseus clung, moving slowly, for his fleece was heavy, and odysseus whom he bore was heavier still. on the ram's back polyphemus laid his great hands. "dear ram," said he, "once wert thou the very first to lead the flocks from the cave, the first to nibble the tender buds of the pasture, the first to find out the running streams, and the first to come home when evening fell. but to-day thou art the very last to go. surely thou art sorrowful because the wicked noman hath destroyed my eye. i would thou couldst speak and tell me where noman is hidden. then should i seize him and gladly dash out his brains on the floor of the cave." very, very still lay odysseus while the giant spoke, but the ram slowly walked on past the savage giant, towards the meadows near the sea. soon it was far enough from the cave for odysseus to let go his hold and to stand up. quickly he loosened the bonds of the others, and swiftly then they drove the rams down to the shore where their ship lay. often they looked round, expecting to see polyphemus following them, but they safely reached the ship and got a glad welcome from their friends, who rejoiced over them, but would have wept over the men that the cannibal giant had slain. "there is no time to weep," said odysseus, and he made his men hasten on board the ship, driving the sheep before them. soon they were all on board, and the gray sea-water was rushing off their oars, as they sailed away from the land of the cyclôpes. but before they were out of sight of land, the bold odysseus lifted up his voice and shouted across the water: "hear me, polyphemus, thou cruel monster! thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out. thou hast been punished because thou hadst no shame to eat the strangers who came to thee as thy guests!" the voice of odysseus rang across the waves, and reached polyphemus as he sat in pain at the mouth of his cave. in a fury the giant sprang up, broke off the peak of a great hill and cast it into the sea, where it fell just in front of the ship of odysseus. so huge a splash did the vast rock give, that the sea heaved up and the backwash of the water drove the ship right to the shore. odysseus snatched up a long pole and pushed the ship off once more. silently he motioned to the men to row hard, and save themselves and their ship from the angry giant. when they were once more out at sea, odysseus wished again to mock polyphemus. in vain his men begged him not to provoke a monster so mighty that he could crush their heads and the timbers of their ship with one cast of a stone. once more odysseus shouted across the water: "polyphemus, if any one shall ask thee who blinded thee, tell them it was odysseus of ithaca." then moaned the giant: "once, long ago, a soothsayer told me that odysseus should make me blind. but ever i looked for the coming of a great and gallant hero, and now there hath come a poor feeble, little dwarf, who made me weak with wine before he dared to touch me." then he begged odysseus to come back, and said he would treat him kindly, and told him that he knew that his own father, the god of the sea, would give him his sight again. "never more wilt thou have thy sight," mocked odysseus; "thy father will never heal thee." then polyphemus, stretching out his hands, and looking up with his sightless eye to the starry sky, called aloud to poseidon, god of the sea, to punish odysseus. "if he ever reaches his own country," he cried, "let him come late and in an evil case, with all his own company lost, and in the ship of strangers, and let him find sorrows in his own house." no answer came from poseidon, but the god of the sea heard his son's prayer. with all his mighty force polyphemus then cast at the ship a rock far greater than the first. it all but struck the end of the rudder, but the huge waves that surged up from it bore on the ship, and carried it to the further shore. there they found the men with the other ships waiting in sorrow and dread, for they feared that the giants had killed odysseus and his company. gladly they drove the rams of polyphemus on to the land, and there feasted together until the sun went down. all night they slept on the sea beach, and at rosy dawn odysseus called to his men to get into their ships and loose the hawsers. soon they had pushed off, and were thrusting their oars into the gray sea-water. their hearts were sore, because they had lost six gallant men of their company, yet they were glad as men saved from death. iii how odysseus met with circe, the sirens, and calypso across the seas sailed odysseus and his men till they came to an island where lived Æolus the keeper of the winds. when odysseus again set sail, Æolus gave him a great leather bag in which he had placed all the winds except the wind of the west. his men thought the bag to be full of gold and silver, so, while odysseus slept they loosened the silver thong, and, with a mighty gust all the winds rushed out driving the ship far away from their homeland. ere long they reached another island, where dwelt a great enchantress, circe of the golden tresses, whose palace eurylochus discovered. within they heard circe singing, so they called to her and she came forth and bade them enter. heedlessly they followed her, all but eurylochus. then circe smote them with her magic wand and they were turned into swine. when odysseus heard what had befallen his men he was very angry and would have slain her with his sword. but circe cried: "sheathe thy sword, i pray thee, odysseus, and let us be at peace." then said odysseus: "how can i be at peace with thee, circe? how can i trust thee?" then circe promised to do odysseus no harm, and to let him return in safety to his home. then she opened the doors of the sty and waved her wand. and the swine became men again even handsomer and stronger than before. for a whole year odysseus and his men stayed in the palace, feasting and resting. when they at last set sail again the sorceress told odysseus of many dangers he would meet on his homeward voyage, and warned him how to escape from them. in an island in the blue sea through which the ship of odysseus would sail toward home, lived some beautiful mermaids called sirens. even more beautiful than the sirens' faces were their lovely voices by which they lured men to go on shore and there slew them. in the flowery meadows were the bones of the foolish sailors who had seen only the lovely faces and long, golden hair of the sirens, and had lost their hearts to them. against these mermaids circe had warned odysseus, and he repeated her warnings to his men. following her advice he filled the ears of the men with wax and bade them bind him hand and foot to the mast. past the island drove the ship, and the sirens seeing it began their sweet song. "come hither, come hither, brave odysseus," they sang. then odysseus tried to make his men unbind him, but eurylochus and another bound him yet more tightly to the mast. when the island was left behind, the men took the wax from their ears and unbound their captain. after passing the wandering rocks with their terrible sights and sounds the ship came to a place of great peril. beyond them were yet two huge rocks between which the sea swept. one of these ran up to the sky, and in this cliff was a dark cave in which lived scylla a horrible monster, who, as the ship passed seized six of the men with her six dreadful heads. in the cliff opposite lived another terrible creature called charybdis who stirred the sea to a fierce whirlpool. by a strong wind the ship was driven into this whirlpool, but odysseus escaped on a broken piece of wreckage to the shores of an island. on this island lived calypso of the braided tresses, a goddess feared by all men. but, to odysseus she was very kind and he soon became as strong as ever. "stay with me, and thou shalt never grow old and never die," said calypso. a great homesickness had seized odysseus, but no escape came for eight years. then athene begged the gods to help him. they called on hermes, who commanded calypso to let him go. she wanted him to stay with her but promised to send him away. she told him to make a raft which she would furnish with food and clothing for his need. he set out and in eighteen days saw the land of the phæacians appear. but when safety seemed near, poseidon, the sea-god, returned from his wanderings and would have destroyed him had it not been that a fair sea-nymph gave him her veil to wind around his body. this he did and finally reached the shore. iv how odysseus met with nausicaa in the land of the phæacians there dwelt no more beautiful, nor any sweeter maiden, than the king's own daughter. nausicaa was her name, and she was so kind and gentle that every one loved her. to the land of the phæacians the north wind had driven odysseus, and while he lay asleep in his bed of leaves under the olive-trees, the goddess athene went to the room in the palace where nausicaa slept, and spoke to her in her dreams. "some day thou wilt marry, nausicaa," she said, "and it is time for thee to wash all the fair raiment that is one day to be thine. to-morrow thou must ask the king, thy father, for mules and for a wagon, and drive from the city to a place where all the rich clothing may be washed and dried." when morning came nausicaa remembered her dream, and went to tell her father. her mother was sitting spinning yarn of sea-purple stain, and her father was just going to a council meeting. "father, dear," said the princess, "couldst thou lend me a high wagon with strong wheels, that i may take all my fair linen to the river to wash. all yours, too, i shall take, so that thou shalt go to the council in linen that is snowy clean, and i know that my five brothers will also be glad if i wash their fine clothing for them." this she said, for she felt too shy to tell her father what athene had said about her getting married. but the king knew well why she asked. "i do not grudge thee mules, nor anything else, my child," he said. "go, bid the servants prepare a wagon." the servants quickly got ready the finest wagon that the king had, and harnessed the best of the mules. and nausicaa's mother filled a basket with all the dainties that she knew her daughter liked best, so that nausicaa and her maidens might feast together. the fine clothes were piled into the wagon, the basket of food was placed carefully beside them, and nausicaa climbed in, took the whip and shining reins, and touched the mules. then with clatter of hoofs they started. when they were come to the beautiful, clear river, amongst whose reeds odysseus had knelt the day before, they unharnessed the mules and drove them along the banks of the river to graze where the clover grew rich and fragrant. then they washed the clothes, working hard and well, and spread them out to dry on the clean pebbles down by the seashore. then they bathed, and when they had bathed they took their midday meal by the bank of the rippling river. when they had finished, the sun had not yet dried the clothes, so nausicaa and her maidens began to play ball. as they played they sang a song that the girls of that land would always sing as they threw the ball to one another. all the maidens were fair, but nausicaa of the white arms was the fairest of all. from hand to hand they threw the ball, growing always the merrier, until, when it was nearly time for them to gather the clothes together and go home, nausicaa threw it very hard to one of the others. the girl missed the catch. the ball flew into the river, and, as it was swept away to the sea, the princess and all her maidens screamed aloud. their cries awoke odysseus, as he lay asleep in his bed of leaves. "i must be near the houses of men," he said; "those are the cries of girls at play." with that he crept out from the shelter of the olive-trees. he had no clothes, for he had thrown them all into the sea before he began his terrible swim for life. but he broke off some leafy branches and held them round him, and walked down to where nausicaa and her maidens were. like a wild man of the woods he looked, and when they saw him coming the girls shrieked and ran away. some of them hid behind the rocks on the shore, and some ran out to the shoals of yellow sand that jutted into the sea. but although his face was marred with the sea-foam that had crusted on it, and he looked a terrible, fierce, great creature, nausicaa was too brave to run away. shaking she stood there, and watched him as he came forward, and stood still a little way off. then odysseus spoke to her, gently and kindly, that he might take away her fear. he told her of his shipwreck, and begged her to show him the way to the town, and give him some old garment, or any old wrap in which she had brought the linen, so that he might have something besides leaves with which to cover himself. "i have never seen any maiden half so beautiful as thou art," he said. "have pity on me, and may the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire." then said nausicaa: "thou seemest no evil man, stranger, and i will gladly give thee clothing and show thee the way to town. this is the land of the phæacians, and my father is the king." to her maidens then she called: "why do ye run away at the sight of a man? dost thou take him for an enemy? he is only a poor shipwrecked man. come, give him food and drink, and fetch him clothing." the maidens came back from their hiding-places, and fetched some of the garments of nausicaa's brothers which they had brought to wash, and laid them beside odysseus. odysseus gratefully took the clothes away, and went off to the river. there he plunged into the clear water, and washed the salt crust from off his face and limbs and body, and the crusted foam from his hair. then he put on the beautiful garments that belonged to one of the princes, and walked down to the shore where nausicaa and her maidens were waiting. so tall and handsome and strong did odysseus look, with his hair curling like hyacinth flowers around his head, that nausicaa said to her maidens: "this man, who seemed to us so dreadful so short a time ago, now looks like a god. i would that my husband, if ever i have one, should be as he." then she and her maidens brought him food and wine, and he ate hungrily, for it was many days since he had eaten. when he had finished, they packed the linen into the wagon, and yoked the mules, and nausicaa climbed into her place. "so long as we are passing through the fields," she said to odysseus, "follow behind with my maidens, and i will lead the way. but when we come near the town with its high walls and towers, and harbors full of ships, the rough sailors will stare and say, 'hath nausicaa gone to find herself a husband because she scorns the men of phæacia who would wed her? hath she picked up a shipwrecked stranger, or is this one of the gods who has come to make her his wife?' therefore come not with us, i pray thee, for the sailors to jest at. there is a fair poplar grove near the city, with a meadow lying round it. sit there until thou thinkest that we have had time to reach the palace. then seek the palace--any child can show thee the way--and when thou art come to the outer court pass quickly into the room where my mother sits. thou wilt find her weaving yarn of sea-purple stain by the light of the fire. she will be leaning her head back against a pillar, and her maidens will be standing round her. my father's throne is close to hers, but pass him by, and cast thyself at my mother's knees. if she feels kindly towards thee and is sorry for thee, then my father is sure to help thee to get safely back to thine own land." then nausicaa smote her mules with the whip, and they trotted quickly off, and soon left behind them the silver river with its whispering reeds, and the beach with its yellow sand. odysseus and the maidens followed the wagon, and just as the sun was setting they reached the poplar grove in the meadow. there odysseus stayed until nausicaa should have had time to reach the palace. when she got there, she stopped at the gateway, and her brothers came out and lifted down the linen, and unharnessed the mules. nausicaa went up to her room, and her old nurse kindled a fire for her and got ready her supper. when odysseus thought it was time to follow, he went to the city. he marveled at the great walls and at the many gallant ships in the harbors. but when he reached the king's palace, he wondered still more. its walls were of brass, so that from without, when the doors stood open, it looked as if the sun or moon were shining within. a frieze of blue ran round the walls. all the doors were made of gold, the doorposts were of silver, the thresholds of brass, and the hook of the door was of gold. in the halls were golden figures of animals, and of men who held in their hands lighted torches. outside the courtyard was a great garden filled with blossoming pear-trees and pomegranates, and apple-trees with shining fruit, and figs, and olives. all the year round there was fruit in that garden. there were grapes in blossom, and grapes purple and ready to eat, and there were great masses of snowy pear-blossom, and pink apple-blossom, and golden ripe pears, and rosy apples. at all of those wonders odysseus stood and gazed, but it was not for long; for he hastened through the halls to where the queen sat in the firelight, spinning her purple yarn. he fell at her knees, and silence came on all those in the room when they looked at him, so brave and so handsome did he seem. "through many and great troubles have i come hither, queen," said he; "speed, i pray you, my parting right quickly, that i may come to mine own country. too long have i suffered great sorrows far away from my own friends." then he sat down amongst the ashes by the fire, and for a little space no one spoke. at last a wise old courtier said to the king: "truly it is not right that this stranger should sit in the ashes by the fire. bid him arise, and give him meat and drink." at this the king took odysseus by the hand and asked him to rise. he made one of his sons give up his silver inlaid chair, and bade his servants fetch a silver basin and a golden ewer that odysseus might wash his hands. all kinds of dainties to eat and drink he also made them bring, and the lords and the courtiers who were there feasted along with odysseus, until it was time for them to go to their own homes. before they went the king promised odysseus a safe convoy back to his own land. when he was left alone with the king and queen, the latter said to him: "tell us who thou art. i myself made the clothing that thou wearest. from whence didst thou get it?" then odysseus told her of his imprisonment in the island of calypso, of his escape, of the terrible storm that shattered his raft, and of how at length he reached the shore and met with nausicaa. "it was wrong of my daughter not to bring thee to the palace when she came with her maids," said the king. but odysseus told him why it was that nausicaa had bade him stay behind. "be not vexed with this blameless maiden," he said. "truly she is the sweetest and the fairest maiden i ever saw." then odysseus went to the bed that the servants had prepared for him. they had spread fair purple blankets over it, and when it was ready they stood beside it with their torches blazing, golden and red. "up now, stranger, get thee to sleep," said they. "thy bed is made." sleep was very sweet to odysseus that night as he lay in the soft bed with warm blankets over him. he was no longer tossed and beaten by angry seas, no longer wet and cold and hungry. the roar of furious waves did not beat in his ears, for all was still in the great halls where the flickering firelight played on the frieze of blue, and turned the brass walls into gold. next day the king gave a great entertainment for odysseus. there were boxing and wrestling and leaping and running, and in all of these the brothers of nausicaa were better than all others who tried. but when they came to throw the weight, and begged odysseus to try, he cast a stone heavier than all others, far beyond where the phæacians had thrown. that night there was feasting in the royal halls, and the king's minstrels played and sang songs of the taking of troy, and of the bravery of the great odysseus. and odysseus listened until his heart could bear no more, and tears trickled down his cheeks. only the king saw him weep. he wondered much why odysseus wept, and at last he asked him. so odysseus told the king his name, and the whole story of his adventures since he had sailed away from troyland. then the king and queen and their courtiers gave rich gifts to odysseus. a beautiful silver-studded sword was the king's gift to him. nausicaa gave him nothing, but she stood and gazed at him in his purple robes and felt more sure than ever that he was the handsomest and the greatest hero she had ever seen. "farewell, stranger," she said to him when the hour came for her to go to bed, for she knew she would not see him on the morrow. "farewell, stranger. sometimes think of me when thou art in thine own land." then said odysseus: "all the days of my life i shall remember thee, nausicaa, for thou hast given me my life." next day a company of the phæacians went down to a ship that lay by the seashore, and with them went odysseus. they carried the treasures that had been given to him and put them on board, and spread a rug on the deck for him. there odysseus lay down, and as soon as the splash of the oars in the water and the rush and gush of the water from the bow of the boat told him that the ship was sailing speedily to his dear land of ithaca, he fell into a sound sleep. onward went the ship, so swiftly that not even a hawk flying after its prey could have kept pace with her. when the bright morning stars arose, they were close to ithaca. the sailors quickly ran their vessel ashore and gently carried the sleeping odysseus, wrapped round in his rug of bright purple, to where a great olive-tree bent its gray leaves over the sand. they laid him under the tree, put his treasures beside him, and left him, still heavy with slumber. then they climbed into their ship and sailed away. while odysseus slept the goddess athene shed a thick mist round him. when he awoke, the sheltering heavens, the long paths, and the trees in bloom all looked strange to him when seen through the grayness of the mist. "woe is me!" he groaned. "the phæacians promised to bring me to ithaca, but they have brought me to a land of strangers, who will surely attack me and steal my treasures." but while he was wondering what he should do, the goddess athene came to him. she was tall and fair and noble to look upon, and she smiled upon odysseus with her kind gray eyes. under the olive-tree she sat down beside him, and told him all that had happened in ithaca while he was away, and all that he must do to win back his kingdom and his queen. the argonauts adapted by mary macgregor i how the centaur trained the heroes now i have a tale to tell of heroes who sailed away into a distant land, to win themselves renown for ever in the adventures of the golden fleece. and what was the golden fleece? it was the fleece of the wondrous ram who bore a boy called phrixus and a girl called helle across the sea; and the old greeks said that it hung nailed to a beech-tree in the war-god's wood. for when a famine came upon the land, their cruel stepmother wished to kill phrixus and helle, that her own children might reign. she said phrixus and helle must be sacrificed on an altar, to turn away the anger of the gods, who sent the famine. so the poor children were brought to the altar, and the priest stood ready with his knife, when out of the clouds came the golden ram, and took them on his back and vanished. and the ram carried the two children far away, over land and sea, till at a narrow strait helle fell off into the sea, and those narrow straits are called "hellespont" after her, and they bear that name until this day. then the ram flew on with phrixus to the northeast, across the sea which we call the black sea, and at last he stopped at colchis, on the steep sea-coast. and phrixus married the king's daughter there, and offered the ram in sacrifice, and then it was that the ram's fleece was nailed to a beech in the wood of the war-god. after a while phrixus died, but his spirit had no rest, for he was buried far from his native land and the pleasant hills of hellas. so he came in dreams to the heroes of his country, and called sadly by their beds, "come and set my spirit free, that i may go home to my fathers and to my kinsfolk." and they asked, "how shall we set your spirit free?" "you must sail over the sea to colchis, and bring home the golden fleece. then my spirit will come back with it, and i shall sleep with my fathers and have rest." he came thus, and called to them often, but when they woke they looked at each other and said, "who dare sail to colchis or bring home the golden fleece?" and in all the country none was brave enough to try, for the man and the time were not come. now phrixus had a cousin called Æson, who was king in iolcos by the sea. and a fierce and lawless stepbrother drove Æson out of iolcos by the sea, and took the kingdom to himself and ruled over it. when Æson was driven out, he went sadly away out of the town, leading his little son by the hand. and he said to himself, "i must hide the child in the mountains, or my stepbrother will surely kill him because he is the heir." so he went up from the sea, across the valley, through the vineyards and the olive groves, and across the river, toward pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow. he went up and up into the mountain, over marsh, and crag, and down, till the boy was tired and footsore, and Æson had to bear him in his arms till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave, at the foot of a mighty cliff. above the cliff the snow-wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in the sun. but at its foot, around the cave's mouth, grew all fair flowers and herbs, as if in a garden. there they grew gaily in the sunshine and in the spray of the torrent from above, while from the cave came the sound of music, and a man's voice singing to the harp. then Æson put down the lad, and whispered, "fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon his knees and say, 'in the name of zeus, the father of gods and men, i am your guest from this day forth.'" so the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero's son, but when he was within, he stopped in wonder to listen to that magic song. and there he saw the singer, lying upon bear-skins and fragrant boughs, cheiron the ancient centaur, the wisest of all beneath the sky. down to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse. his white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard over his broad brown chest. his eyes were wise and mild, and his forehead like a mountain-wall. in his hands he held a harp of gold, and he struck it with a golden key. and as he struck, he sang till his eyes glittered and filled all the cave with light. as he sang the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the song. at the last old cheiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft voice. and the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon his knees. but cheiron smiled, and drew the lad to him, and laid his hand upon his golden locks, and said, "are you afraid of my horse's hoofs, fair boy, or will you be my pupil from this day?" "i would gladly have horse's hoofs like you, if i could sing such songs as yours," said the lad. and cheiron laughed and said, "sit here till sundown, when your playfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be a king, worthy to rule over gallant men." then he turned to Æson, who had followed his son into the cave, and said, "go back in peace. this boy shall not cross the river again till he has become a glory to you and to your house." and Æson wept over his son and went away, but the boy did not weep, so full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the centaur and his song, and the playfellows whom he was to see. then cheiron put the lyre into his hands, and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind the cliff, and a shout was heard outside. and then in came the sons of the heroes, and great cheiron leapt up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave resound as the lads shouted, "come out, father cheiron, and see our game!" one cried, "i have killed two deer," and another, "i took a wild cat among the crags," and another shouted, "i have dragged a wild goat by its horns," and another carried under each arm a bear-cub. and cheiron praised them all, each as he deserved. then the lads brought in wood and split it, and lighted a blazing fire. others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast before the flames. while the venison was cooking, they bathed in the snow-torrent and washed away the dust. and then all ate till they could eat no more, for they had tasted nothing since the dawn, and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for growing lads. when the remnants of the meal were put away, they all lay down upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre in turn, and sang and played with all his heart. after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave's mouth, and there they boxed and ran and wrestled and laughed till the stones fell from the cliffs. then cheiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands, and as he played they danced to his measure, in and out and round and round. there they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea, while the black glen shone with the gleam of their golden hair. and the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay and myrtle and flowers of thyme. he rose at the dawn and bathed in the torrent, and became a schoolfellow to the heroes' sons, and forgot iolcos by the sea, and his father and all his former life. but he grew strong and brave and cunning, upon the pleasant downs of pelion, in the keen, hungry mountain-air. and he learned to wrestle, to box and to hunt, and to play upon the harp. next he learned to ride, for old cheiron used to mount him on his back. he learned too the virtue of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds, and cheiron called him jason the healer, and that is his name until this day. ii how jason lost his sandal and ten years came and went, and jason was grown to be a mighty man. now it happened one day that jason stood on the mountain, and looked north and south and east and west. and cheiron stood by him and watched him, for he knew that the time was come. when jason looked south, he saw a pleasant land, with white-walled towns and farms nestling along the shore of a land-locked bay, while the smoke rose blue among the trees, and he knew it for iolcos by the sea. then he sighed and asked, "is it true what the heroes tell me--that i am heir of that fair land?" "and what good would it be to you, jason, if you were heir of that fair land?" "i would take it and keep it." "a strong man has taken it and kept it long. are you stronger than your uncle pelias the terrible?" "i can try my strength with his," said jason. but cheiron sighed and said, "you have many a danger to go through before you rule in iolcos by the sea, many a danger and many a woe, and strange troubles in strange lands, such as man never saw before." "the happier i," said jason, "to see what man never saw before!" cheiron sighed and said, "will you go to iolcos by the sea? then promise me two things before you go! speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet, and stand by the word which you shall speak." jason promised. then he leapt down the mountain, to take his fortune like a man. he went down through the thickets and across the downs of thyme, till he came to the vineyard walls, and the olives in the glen. and among the olives roared the river, foaming with a summer flood. and on the bank of the river sat a woman, all wrinkled, gray and old. her head shook with old age, and her hands shook on her knees. when she saw jason, she spoke, whining, "who will carry me across the flood?" but jason, heeding her not, went towards the waters. yet he thought twice before he leapt, so loud roared the torrent all brown from the mountain rains. the old woman whined again, "i am weak and old, fair youth. for hera's sake, the queen of the immortals, carry me over the torrent." jason was going to answer her scornfully, when cheiron's words, "speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet," came to his mind. so he said, "for hera's sake, the queen of the immortals, i will carry you over the torrent, unless we both are drowned midway." then the old dame leapt upon his back as nimbly as a goat. jason staggered in, wondering, and the first step was up to his knees. the first step was up to his knees, and the second step was up to his waist. the stones rolled about his feet, and his feet slipped about the stones. so he went on, staggering and panting, while the old woman cried upon his back, "fool, you have wet my mantle! do you mock at poor old souls like me?" jason had half a mind to drop her and let her get through the torrent alone, but cheiron's words were in his mind, and he said only, "patience, mother, the best horse may stumble some day." at last he staggered to the shore and set her down upon the bank. he lay himself panting awhile, and then leapt up to go upon his journey, but he first cast one look at the old woman, for he thought, "she should thank me once at least." and as he looked, she grew fairer than all women and taller than all men on earth. her garments shone like the summer sea, and her jewels like the stars of heaven. and she looked down on him with great soft eyes, with great eyes, mild and awful, which filled all the glen with light. jason fell upon his knees and hid his face between his hands. and she spoke: "i am hera, the queen of olympus. as thou hast done to me, so will i do to thee. call on me in the hour of need, and try if the immortals can forget!" when jason looked up, she rose from off the earth, like a pillar of tall white cloud, and floated away across the mountain peaks, towards olympus, the holy hill. then a great fear fell on jason, but after a while he grew light of heart. he blessed old cheiron and said, "surely the centaur is a prophet and knew what would come to pass when he bade me speak harshly to no soul whom i might meet." then he went down towards iolcos, and as he walked he found that he had lost one of his sandals in the flood. and as he went through the streets the people came out to look at him, so tall and fair he was. but some of the elders whispered together, and at last one of them stopped jason and called to him, "fair lad, who are you and whence come you, and what is your errand in the town?" "my name, good father, is jason, and i come from pelion up above. my errand is to pelias your king. tell me, then, where his palace is." but the old man said, "i will tell you, lest you rush upon your ruin unawares. the oracle has said that a man wearing one sandal should take the kingdom from pelias and keep it for himself. therefore beware how you go up to his palace, for he is fiercest and most cunning of all kings." jason laughed a great laugh in his pride. "good news, good father, both for you and me. for that very end, to take his kingdom, i came into the town." then he strode on toward the palace of pelias his uncle, while all the people wondered at the stranger. and he stood in the doorway and cried, "come out, come out, pelias the valiant, and fight for your kingdom like a man." pelias came out, wondering. "who are you, bold youth?" he cried. "i am jason, the son of Æson, the heir of all the land." then pelias lifted up his hands and eyes and wept, or seemed to weep, and blessed the gods who had brought his nephew to him, never to leave him more. "for," said he, "i have but three daughters, and no son to be my heir. you shall marry whichsoever of my daughters you shall choose. but come, come in and feast." so he drew jason in and spoke to him so lovingly, and feasted him so well, that jason's anger passed. when supper was ended his three cousins came into the hall, and jason thought he would like well to have one of them for his wife. but soon he looked at pelias, and when he saw that he still wept, he said, "why do you look so sad, my uncle?" then pelias sighed heavily again and again, like a man who had to tell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin. at last he said, "for seven long years and more have i never known a quiet night, and no more will he who comes after me, till the golden fleece be brought home." then he told jason the story of phrixus and of the golden fleece, and told him what was a lie, that phrixus' spirit tormented him day and night. and his daughters came and told the same tale, and wept and said, "oh, who will bring home the golden fleece, that the spirit of phrixus may rest, and that we may rest also, for he never lets us sleep in peace?" jason sat awhile, sad and silent, for he had often heard of that golden fleece, but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any mortal man to win. when pelias saw him silent he began to talk of other things. "one thing there is," said pelias, "on which i need your advice, for, though you are young, i see in you a wisdom beyond your years. there is one neighbor of mine whom i dread more than all men on earth. i am stronger than he now and can command him, but i know that if he stay among us, he will work my ruin in the end. can you give me a plan, jason, by which i can rid myself of that man?" after a while, jason answered half-laughing, "were i you, i would send him to fetch that same golden fleece, for if he once set forth after it, you would never be troubled with him more." at that a little smile came across the lips of pelias, and a flash of wicked joy into his eyes. jason saw it and started, and he remembered the warning of the old man, and his own one sandal and the oracle, and he saw that he was taken in a trap. but pelias only answered gently, "my son, he shall be sent forthwith." "you mean me!" cried jason, starting up, "because i came here with one sandal," and he lifted his fist angrily, while pelias stood up to him like a wolf at bay. whether of the two was the stronger and the fiercer it would be hard to tell. but after a moment pelias spoke gently, "why so rash, my son? i have not harmed you. you will go, and that gladly, for you have a hero's heart within you, and the love of glory." jason knew that he was entrapped, but he cried aloud, "you have well spoken, cunning uncle of mine, i love glory. i will go and fetch the golden fleece. promise me but this in return, and keep your word as i keep mine. treat my father lovingly while i am gone, for the sake of the all-seeing zeus, and give me up the kingdom for my own on the day that i bring back the golden fleece." then pelias looked at him and almost loved him, in the midst of all his hate, and he said, "i promise, and i will perform. it will be no shame to give up my kingdom to the man who wins that fleece." so they both went and lay down to sleep. but jason could not sleep for thinking how he was to win the golden fleece. sometimes phrixus seemed to call him in a thin voice, faint and low, as if it came from far across the sea. sometimes he seemed to see the eyes of hera, and to hear her words again, "call on me in the hour of need, and see if the immortals can forget." on the morrow jason went to pelias and said, "give me a lamb, that i may sacrifice to hera." and as he stood by the altar hera sent a thought into his mind. and he went back to pelias and said, "if you are indeed in earnest, give me two heralds that they may go round to all the princes, who were pupils of the centaur with me. then together we will fit out a ship, and take what shall befall." at that pelias praised his wisdom and hastened to send the heralds out, for he said in his heart, "let all the princes go with jason, and, like him, never return, so shall i be lord of the land and the greatest king in hellas." iii how they built the ship argo so the heralds went out and cried to all the heroes, "who dare come to the adventures of the golden fleece?" and hera stirred the hearts of all the princes, and they came from all their valleys to the yellow sand of iolcos by the sea. all the city came out to meet them, and the men were never tired with looking at their heights and their beauty and the glitter of their arms. but the women sighed over them and whispered, "alas, they are all going to their death!" then the heroes felled the mountain pines and shaped them with the axe, and argus the famed shipbuilder taught them to build a galley, the first long ship which ever sailed the seas. they named her argo, after argus the shipbuilder, and worked at her all day long. but jason went away into a far-off land, till he found orpheus the prince of minstrels, where he dwelt in his cave. and he asked him, "will you leave your mountains, orpheus, my playfellow in old times, and sail with the heroes to bring home the golden fleece? and will you charm for us all men and all monsters with your magic harp and song?" then orpheus sighed, "have i not had enough of toil and of weary wandering far and wide, since i lived in cheiron's cave, above iolcos by the sea? and now must i go out again, to the ends of all the earth, far away into the misty darkness? but a friend's demand must be obeyed." so orpheus rose up sighing, and took his harp. he led jason to the holy oak, and he bade him cut down a bough and sacrifice to hera. and they took the bough and came to iolcos, and nailed it to the prow of the ship. and at last the ship was finished, and they tried to launch her down the beach; but she was too heavy for them to move her, and her keel sank deep into the sand. then all the heroes looked at each other blushing, but jason spoke and said, "let us ask the magic bough; perhaps it can help us in our need." and a voice came from the bough, and jason heard the words it said, and bade orpheus play upon the harp, while the heroes waited round, holding the pine-trunk rollers to help the argo toward the sea. then orpheus took his harp and began his magic song. and the good ship argo heard him and longed to be away and out at sea, till she stirred in every timber, and heaved from stem to stern, and leapt up from the sand upon the rollers, and plunged onward like a gallant horse till she rushed into the whispering sea. and they stored her well with food and water, and settled themselves each man to his oar, keeping time to the harp of orpheus. then away across the bay they rowed southward, while the people lined the cliffs. but the women wept while the men shouted at the starting of that gallant crew. iv how the argonauts won the golden fleece the heroes rowed across the bay, and while they waited there for a southwest wind, they chose themselves a captain from their crew. and some called for the strongest and hugest to be their captain, but more called for jason, because he was the wisest of them all. so jason was chosen captain, and each hero vowed to stand by him faithfully in the adventure of the golden fleece. they sailed onward and northward to pelion. and their hearts yearned for the dear old mountain, as they thought of the days gone by, of the sports of their boyhood, and their hunting, and their lessons in the cave beneath the cliff. then at last they said, "let us land here and climb the dear old hill once more. we are going on a fearful journey. who knows if we shall see pelion again? let us go up to cheiron our master, and ask his blessing ere we start." so the helmsman steered them to the shore, under the crags of pelion, and they went up through the dark pine-forests toward the centaur's cave. then, as cheiron saw them, he leapt up and welcomed them every one, and set a feast of venison before them. and after supper all the heroes clapped their hands and called on orpheus to sing, but he refused, and said, "how can i, who am the younger, sing before our ancient host?" so they called on cheiron to sing. and he sang of heroes who fought with fists and teeth, and how they tore up the pine-trees in their fury, and hurled great crags of stone, while the mountains thundered with the battle, and the land was wasted far and wide. and the heroes praised his song right heartily, for some of them had helped in that great fight. then orpheus took the lyre and sang of the making of the wondrous world. and as he sang, his voice rose from the cave above the crags, and through the tree-tops. the trees bowed their heads when they heard it, and the forest beasts crept close to listen, and the birds forsook their nests and hovered near. and old cheiron clapped his hands together and beat his hoofs upon the ground, for wonder at that magic song. now the heroes came down to the ship, and cheiron came down with them, weeping, and kissed them one by one, and promised to them great renown. and the heroes wept when they left him, till their great hearts could weep no more, for he was kind and just, and wiser than all beasts and men. then cheiron went up to a cliff and prayed for them, that they might come home safe and well, while the heroes rowed away and watched him standing on his cliff above the sea, with his great hands raised toward heaven, and his white locks waving in the wind. they strained their eyes to watch him to the last, for they felt that they should look on him no more. so they rowed on over the long swell of the sea eastward, and out into the open sea which we now call the black sea. all feared that dreadful sea, and its rocks and fogs and bitter storms, and the heroes trembled for all their courage, as they came into that wild black sea, and saw it stretching out before them, without a shore, as far as eye could see. then orpheus spoke and warned them that they must come now to the wandering blue rocks. soon they saw them, and their blue peaks shone like spires and castles of gray glass, while an ice-cold wind blew from them and chilled all the heroes' hearts. as they neared them, they could see the rocks heaving, as they rolled upon the long sea-waves, crashing and grinding together, till the roar went up to heaven. the heroes' hearts sank within them, and they lay upon their oars in fear, but orpheus called to the helmsman, "between the blue rocks we must pass, so look for an opening, and be brave, for hera is with us." the cunning helmsman stood silent, clenching his teeth, till he saw a heron come flying mast-high toward the rocks, and hover awhile before them, as if looking for a passage through. then he cried, "hera has sent us a pilot; let us follow the bird." the heron flapped to and fro a moment till he saw a hidden gap, and into it he rushed like an arrow, while the heroes watched what would befall. and the blue rocks dashed together as the bird fled swiftly through, but they struck but one feather from his tail, and then rebounded at the shock. then the helmsman cheered the heroes, and they shouted, while the oars bent beneath their strokes as they rushed between those toppling ice-crags. but ere the rocks could meet again they had passed them, and were safe out in the open sea. after that they sailed on wearily along the coast, past many a mighty river's mouth, and past many a barbarous tribe. and at day dawn they looked eastward, till, shining above the tree-tops, they saw the golden roofs of king aietes, the child of the sun. then out spoke the helmsman, "we are come to our goal at last, for there are the roofs of aietes, and the woods where all poisons grow. but who can tell us where among them is hid the golden fleece?" but jason cheered the heroes, for his heart was high and bold, and he said, "i will go alone to aietes, and win him with soft words. better so than to go altogether and to come to blows at once." but the heroes would not stay behind so they rowed boldly up the stream. and a dream came to aietes and filled his heart with fear. then he leapt up and bade his servants bring his chariot, that he might go down to the river-side, and appease the nymphs and the heroes whose spirits haunt the bank. so he went down in his golden chariot, and his daughters by his side, medeia, the fair witch-maiden, and chalciope, who had been phrixus' wife, and behind him a crowd of servants and soldiers, for he was a rich and mighty prince. and as he drove down by the reedy river, he saw the argo sliding up beneath the bank, and many a hero in her, like immortals for beauty and strength. but jason was the noblest of all, for hera, who loved him, gave him beauty and height and terrible manhood. when they came near together and looked into each other's eyes, the heroes were awed before aietes as he shone in his chariot like his father, the glorious sun. for his robes were of rich gold tissue, and the rays of his diadem flashed fire. and in his hand he bore a jeweled scepter, which glittered like the stars. sternly aietes looked at the heroes, and sternly he spoke and loud, "who are you, and what want you here that you come to our shore? know this is my kingdom and these are my people who serve me. never yet grew they tired in battle, and well they know how to face a foe." and the heroes sat silent awhile before the face of that ancient king. but hera, the awful goddess, put courage into jason's heart, and he rose and shouted loudly in answer to the king. "we are no lawless men. we come, not to plunder or carry away slaves from your land, but we have come on a quest to bring home the golden fleece. and these too, my bold comrades, they are no nameless men, for some are the sons of immortals, and some of heroes far renowned. we too never tire in battle, and know well how to give blows and to take. yet we wish to be guests at your table; it will be better so for both." then aietes' rage rushed up like a whirlwind, and his eyes flashed fire as he heard; but he crushed his anger down in his heart and spoke mildly. "if you will fight, then many a man must die. but if you will be ruled by me you will find it better far to choose the best man among you, and let him fulfil the labors which i demand. then i will give him the golden fleece for a prize and a glory to you all." so he said, and then turned his horses and drove back in silence to the town. the heroes sat dumb with sorrow, for there was no facing the thousands of king aietes' men and the fearful chance of war. but chalciope, the widow of phrixus, went weeping to the town, for she remembered her husband and all the pleasures of her youth while she watched the fair face of his kinsmen and their long locks of golden hair. and she whispered to medeia, her sister, "why should all these brave men die? why does not my father give up the fleece, that my husband's spirit may have rest?" medeia's heart pitied the heroes, and jason most of all, and she answered, "our father is stern and terrible, and who can win the golden fleece?" but chalciope said, "these men are not like our men; there is nothing which they cannot dare nor do." then medeia thought of jason and his brave countenance, and said, "if there was one among them who knew no fear, i could show him how to win the fleece." so in the dusk of the evening they went down to the river-side, chalciope and medeia the witch-maiden, and with them a lad. and the lad crept forward, among the beds of reeds, till he came to where jason kept ward on shore, leaning upon his lance, full of thought. and the lad said, "chalciope waits for you, to talk about the golden fleece." then jason went boldly with the boy and found the two princesses. when chalciope saw him, she wept and took his hands and cried, "o cousin of my beloved phrixus, go home before you die!" "it would be base to go home now, fair princess, and to have sailed all these seas in vain." then both the princesses besought him, but jason said, "it is too late to return!" "but you know not," said medeia, "what he must do who would win the fleece. he must tame the two brazen-footed bulls, which breathe devouring flame, and with them he must plow ere nightfall four acres in a field. he must sow the acres with serpents' teeth, of which each tooth springs up into an armed man. then he must fight with all these warriors. and little will it profit him to conquer them, for the fleece is guarded by a serpent more huge than any mountain pine. over his body you must step if you would reach the golden fleece." then jason laughed bitterly: "unjustly is that fleece kept here, and by an unjust and lawless king, and unjustly shall i die in my youth, for i will attempt it ere another sun be set." medeia trembled and said, "no mortal man can reach that fleece unless i guide him through." but jason cried, "no wall so high but it may be climbed at last, and no wood so thick but it may be crawled through. no serpent so wary but he may be charmed, and i may yet win the golden fleece, if a wise maiden help bold men." and he looked at medeia with his glittering eye, till she blushed and trembled and said, "who can face the fire of the bulls' breath and fight ten thousand armed men?" "he whom you help," said jason, flattering her, "for your fame is spread over all the earth." and medeia said slowly, "why should you die? i have an ointment here. i made it from the magic ice-flower. anoint yourself with that, and you shall have in you the strength of seven, and anoint your shield with it, and neither fire nor sword shall harm you. anoint your helmet with it, before you sow the serpents' teeth, and when the sons of earth spring up, cast your helmet among them, and every man of them shall perish." then jason fell on his knees before her, and thanked her and kissed her hands, and she gave him the vase of ointment, and fled trembling through the reeds. and jason told his comrades what had happened, and showed them the box of ointment. so at sunrise jason went and bathed and anointed himself from head to foot, and his shield and his helmet and his weapons. and when the sun had risen, jason sent two of his heroes to tell aietes that he was ready for the fight. up among the marble walls they went, and beneath the roofs of gold, and stood in the hall of aietes, while he grew pale with rage. "fulfil your promise to us, child of the blazing sun," the heroes cried to king aietes. "give us the serpents' teeth, and let loose the fiery bulls, for we have found a champion among us, who can win the golden fleece!" aietes grew more pale with rage, for he had fancied that they had fled away by night, but he could not break his promise, so he gave them the serpents' teeth. then he called his chariot and his horses, and sent heralds through all the town, and all the people went out with him to the dreadful war-god's field. there aietes sat upon his throne, with his warriors on each hand, thousands and tens of thousands clothed from head to foot in steel chain mail. and the people and women crowded to every window and bank and wall, while the heroes stood together, a mere handful in the midst of that great host. chalciope was there, and medeia, wrapped closely in her veil; but aietes did not know that she was muttering cunning spells between her lips. then jason cried, "fulfil your promise, and let your fiery bulls come forth!" aietes bade open the gates, and the magic bulls leapt out. their brazen hoofs rang upon the ground as they rushed with lowered heads upon jason, but he never flinched a step. the flame of their breath swept round him, but it singed not a hair of his head. and the bulls stopped short and trembled when medeia began her spell. then jason sprang upon the nearest, and seized him by the horns, and up and down they wrestled, till the bull fell groveling on his knees. for the heart of the bull died within him, beneath the steadfast eye of that dark witch-maiden and the magic whisper of her lips. so both the bulls were tamed and yoked, and jason bound them to the plow and goaded them onward with his lance, till he had plowed the sacred field. and all the heroes shouted, but aietes bit his lips with rage, for half of jason's work was done. then jason took the serpents' teeth and sowed them, and waited what would befall. and medeia looked at him and at his helmet, lest he should forget the lesson she had taught him. now every furrow heaved and bubbled, and out of every clod arose a man. out of the earth they arose by thousands, each clad from head to foot in steel, and drew their swords and rushed on jason where he stood in the midst alone. the heroes grew pale with fear for him, but aietes laughed an angry laugh. then jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it into the thickest of the throng. and hate and fear and suspicion came upon them, and one cried to his fellows, "thou didst strike me," and another, "thou art jason, thou shalt die," and each turned his hand against the rest, and they fought and were never weary, till they all lay dead upon the ground. and the magic furrows opened, and the kind earth took them home again, and jason's work was done. then the heroes rose and shouted, and jason cried to the king, "lead me to the golden fleece this moment before the sun goes down." but aietes thought, "who is this, who is proof against all magic? he may kill the serpent yet!" so he delayed, and sat taking counsel with his princes. afterwards he bade a herald cry, "to-morrow we will meet these heroes and speak about the golden fleece!" then he turned and looked at medeia. "this is your doing, false witch-maid," he said; "you have helped these yellow-haired strangers." medeia shrank and trembled, and her face grew pale with fear, and aietes knew that she was guilty, and he whispered, "if they win the fleece, you die." now the heroes went marching toward their ship, growling, like lions cheated of their prey. "let us go together to the grove and take the fleece by force," they said. but jason held them back, while he praised them for brave heroes, for he hoped for medeia's help. and after a time she came trembling, and wept a long while before she spoke. at last she said, "i must die, for my father has found out that i have helped you." but all the heroes cried, "if you die we die with you, for without you we cannot win the fleece, and home we will never go without it." "you need not die," said jason to the witch-maiden. "flee home with us across the sea. show us but how to win the fleece, and come with us and you shall be my queen, and rule over the rich princes in iolcos by the sea." and all the heroes pressed round and vowed to her that she should be their queen. medeia wept and hid her face in her hands. "must i leave my home and my people?" she sobbed. "but the lot is cast: i will show you how to win the golden fleece. bring up your ship to the woodside, and moor her there against the bank. and let jason come up at midnight and one brave comrade with him, and meet me beneath the wall." then all the heroes cried together, "i will go--and i--and i!" but medeia calmed them and said, "orpheus shall go with jason, and take his magic harp." and orpheus laughed for joy and clapped his hands, because the choice had fallen on him. so at midnight they went up the bank and found medeia, and she brought them to a thicket beside the war-god's gate. and the base of the gate fell down and the brazen doors flew wide, and medeia and the heroes ran forward, and hurried through the poison wood, guided by the gleam of the golden fleece, until they saw it hanging on one vast tree in the midst. jason would have sprung to seize it, but medeia held him back and pointed to the tree-foot, where a mighty serpent lay, coiled in and out among the roots. when the serpent saw them coming, he lifted up his head and watched them with his small bright eyes, and flashed his forked tongue. but medeia called gently to him, and he stretched out his long spotted neck, and licked her hand. then she made a sign to orpheus, and he began his magic song. and as he sung, the forest grew calm, and the leaves on every tree hung still, and the serpent's head sank down and his coils grew limp, and his glittering eyes closed lazily, till he breathed as gently as a child. jason leapt forward warily and stept across that mighty snake, and tore the fleece from off the tree-trunk. then the witch-maiden with jason and orpheus turned and rushed down to the bank where the argo lay. there was silence for a moment, when jason held the golden fleece on high. then he cried, "go now, good argo, swift and steady, if ever you would see pelion more." and she went, as the heroes drove her, grim and silent all, with muffled oars. on and on, beneath the dewy darkness, they fled swiftly down the swirling stream, on and on till they heard the merry music of the surge. into the surge they rushed, and the argo leapt the breakers like a horse, till the heroes stopped, all panting, each man upon his oar, as she slid into the broad sea. then orpheus took his harp and sang a song of praise, till the heroes' hearts rose high again, and they rowed on, stoutly and steadfastly, away into the darkness of the west. v how the argonauts reached home so the heroes fled away in haste, but aietes manned his fleet and followed them. then medeia, the dark witch-maiden, laid a cruel plot, for she killed her young brother who had come with her, and cast him into the sea, and said, "ere my father can take up his body and bury it, he must wait long and be left far behind." and all the heroes shuddered, and looked one at the other in shame. when aietes came to the place he stopped a long while and bewailed his son, and took him up and went home. so the heroes escaped for a time, but zeus saw that evil deed, and out of the heavens he sent a storm and swept the argo far from her course. and at last she struck on a shoal, and the waves rolled over her and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life. then out spoke the magic bough, which stood upon the argo's prow, "for your guilt, you must sail a weary way to where circe, medeia's sister, dwells among the islands of the west; she shall cleanse you of your guilt." whither they went i cannot tell, nor how they came to circe's isle, but at last they reached the fairy island of the west. and jason bid them land, and as they went ashore they met circe coming down toward the ship, and they trembled when they saw her, for her hair and face and robes shone flame. then circe cried to medeia, "ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten your sins that you come hither, where the flowers bloom all the year round? where is your aged father, and the brother whom you killed? i will send you food and wine, but your ship must not stay here, for she is black with your wickedness." and the heroes prayed, but in vain, and cried, "cleanse us from our guilt!" but she sent them away and said, "go eastward, that you may be cleansed, and after that you may go home." slowly and wearily they sailed on, till one summer's eve they came to a flowery island, and as they neared it they heard sweet songs. [illustration: orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens.] medeia started when she heard, and cried, "beware, o heroes, for here are the rocks of the sirens. you must pass close by them, but those who listen to that song are lost." then orpheus spoke, he, the king of all minstrels, "let them match their song against mine;" so he caught up his lyre and began his magic song. now they could see the sirens. three fair maidens, sitting on the beach, beneath a rock red in the setting sun. slowly they sung and sleepily, and as the heroes listened the oars fell from their hands, and their heads dropped, and they closed their heavy eyes, and all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more. then medeia clapped her hands together and cried, "sing louder, orpheus, sing louder." and orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again and cried, "we will be men, and we will dare and suffer to the last." and as orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea and kept time to his music as they fled fast away, and the sirens' voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam. but when the sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for envy and rage and leapt into the sea, and were changed into rocks. then, as the argonauts rowed on, they came to a fearful whirlpool, and they could neither go back nor forward, for the waves caught them and spun them round and round. while they struggled in the whirlpool, they saw near them on the other side of the strait a rock stand in the water--a rock smooth and slippery, and half way up a misty cave. when orpheus saw the rock he groaned. "little will it help us," he cried, "to escape the jaws of the whirlpool. for in that cave lives a sea-hag, and from her cave she fishes for all things that pass by, and never ship's crew boasted that they came safe past her rock." then out of the depths came thetis, the silver-footed bride of one of the heroes. she came with all her nymphs around her, and they played like snow-white dolphins, diving in from wave to wave before the ship, and in her wake and beside her, as dolphins play. and they caught the ship and guided her, and passed her on from hand to hand, and tossed her through the billows, as maidens do the ball. and when the sea-hag stooped to seize the ship, they struck her, and she shrank back into her cave affrighted, and the argo leapt safe past her, while a fair breeze rose behind. then thetis and her nymphs sank down to their coral caves beneath the sea, and their gardens of green and purple, where flowers bloom all the year round, while the heroes went on rejoicing, yet dreading what might come next. they rowed away for many a weary day till their water was spent and their food eaten, but at last they saw a long steep island. "we will land here," they cried, "and fill our water casks upon the shore." but when they came nearer to the island they saw a wondrous sight. for on the cliffs stood a giant, taller than any mountain pine. when he saw the argo and her crew he came toward them, more swiftly than the swiftest horse, and he shouted to them, "you are pirates, you are robbers! if you land you shall die the death." then the heroes lay on their oars in fear, but medeia spoke: "i know this giant. if strangers land he leaps into his furnace, which flames there among the hills, and when he is red-hot he rushes on them, and burns them in his brazen hands. but he has but one vein in all his body filled with liquid fire, and this vein is closed with a nail. i will find out where the nail is placed, and when i have got it into my hands you shall water your ship in peace." so they took the witch-maiden and left her alone on the shore. and she stood there all alone in her beauty till the giant strode back red-hot from head to heel. when he saw the maiden he stopped. and she looked boldly up into his face and sang a magic song, and she held up a flash of crystal and said, "i am medeia, the witch-maiden. my sister circe gave me this and said, 'go, reward talus, the faithful giant, for his fame is gone out into all lands.' so come and i will pour this into your veins, that you may live for ever young." and he listened to her false words, that simple talus, and came near. but medeia said, "dip yourself in the sea first and cool yourself, lest you burn my tender hands. then show me the nail in your vein, and in that will i pour the liquid from the crystal flask." then that simple talus dipped himself in the sea, and came and knelt before medeia and showed the secret nail. and she drew the nail out gently, but she poured nothing in, and instead the liquid fire streamed forth. talus tried to leap up, crying, "you have betrayed me, false witch-maiden." but she lifted up her hands before him and sang, till he sank beneath her spell. and as he sank, the earth groaned beneath his weight and the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea. then medeia laughed and called to the heroes, "come and water your ship in peace." so they came and found the giant lying dead, and they fell down and kissed medeia's feet, and watered their ship, and took sheep and oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore. at the next island they went ashore and offered sacrifices, and orpheus purged them from their guilt. and at last, after many weary days and nights, all worn and tired, the heroes saw once more pelion and iolcos by the sea. they ran the ship ashore, but they had no strength left to haul her up the beach, and they crawled out on the pebbles and wept, till they could weep no more. for the houses and the trees were all altered, and all the faces they saw were strange, so that their joy was swallowed up in sorrow. the people crowded round and asked them, "who are you, that you sit weeping here?" "we are the sons of your princes, who sailed in search of the golden fleece, and we have brought it home. give us news of our fathers and mothers, if any of them be left alive on earth." then there was shouting and laughing and weeping, and all the kings came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and bewailed the valiant dead. and jason went up with medeia to the palace of his uncle pelias. and when he came in, pelias and Æson, jason's father, sat by the fire, two old men, whose heads shook together as they tried to warm themselves before the fire. jason fell down at his father's knee and wept and said, "i am your own son jason, and i have brought home the golden fleece and a princess of the sun's race for my bride." then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let him go, and cried, "promise never to leave me till i die." and jason turned to his uncle pelias, "now give me up the kingdom and fulfil your promise, as i have fulfilled mine." and his uncle gave him his kingdom. so jason stayed at iolcos by the sea. theseus adapted by mary macgregor i how theseus lifted the stone once upon a time there was a princess called aithra. she had one fair son named theseus, the bravest lad in all the land. and aithra never smiled but when she looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away. aithra used to go up to the temple of the gods, and sit there all day, looking out across the bay, over the purple peaks of the mountains to the attic shore beyond. when theseus was full fifteen years old, she took him up with her to the temple, and into the thickets which grew in the temple yard. she led him to a tall plane-tree, and there she sighed and said, "theseus, my son, go into that thicket and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone. lift it, and bring me what lies underneath." then theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and searching among their roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy and moss. he tried to lift it, but he could not. and he tried till the sweat ran down his brow from the heat, and the tears from his eyes for shame, but all was of no avail. and at last he came back to his mother and said, "i have found the stone, but i cannot lift it, nor do i think that any man could, in all the land." then she sighed and said, "the day may come when you will be a stronger man than lives in all the land." and she took him by the hand and went into the temple and prayed, and came down again with theseus to her home. and when a full year was past, she led theseus up again to the temple and bade him lift the stone, but he could not. then she sighed again and said the same words again, and went down and came again next year. but theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the year after. he longed to ask his mother the meaning of that stone, and what might be underneath it, but her face was so sad that he had not the heart to ask. so he said to himself, "the day shall surely come when i will lift that stone." and in order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling and boxing, and hunting the boar and the bull and the deer among rocks, till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so swift as theseus, and all the people said, "surely the gods are with the lad!" when his eighteenth year was past, aithra led him up again to the temple and said, "theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who you are." and theseus went into the thicket and stood over the stone and tugged at it, and it moved. then he said, "if i break my heart in my body it shall come up." and he tugged at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout. when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze, with a hilt of glittering gold, and beside it a pair of golden sandals. theseus caught them up and burst through the bushes and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head. but when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in her shawl. and theseus stood by her and wept also, he knew not why. when she was tired of weeping aithra lifted up her head and laid her finger on her lips, and said, "hide them in your cloak, theseus, my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea." they went outside the sacred wall and looked down over the bright blue sea, and aithra said, "do you see the land at our feet?" and theseus said, "yes, this is where i was born and bred." and she asked, "do you see the land beyond?" and the lad answered, "yes, that is attica, where the athenian people live!" "that is a fair land and large, theseus, my son, and it looks towards the sunny south. there the hills are sweet with thyme, and the meadows with violet, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets. there are twelve towns well peopled, the homes of an ancient race. what would you do, theseus, if you were king of such a land?" theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright sea and saw the fair attic shore. his heart grew great within him, and he said, "if i were king of such a land, i would rule it wisely and well, in wisdom and in might." and aithra smiled and said, "take, then, the sword and the sandals and go to thy father Ægeus, king of athens, and say to him, 'the stone is lifted!' then show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the gods shall send." but theseus wept, "shall i leave you, o my mother?" she answered, "weep not for me." then she kissed theseus and wept over him, and went into the temple, and theseus saw her no more. ii how theseus slew the club-bearer and the pine-bender so theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes. and first he thought of going down to the harbor and hiring a swift ship and sailing across the bay to athens. but even that seemed too slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea and find his father. after a while his heart began to fail him, and he sighed and said within himself, "what if my father have other sons around him, whom he loves? what if he will not receive me? he has forgotten me ever since i was born. why should he welcome me now?" then he thought a long while sadly, but at last he cried aloud, "yes, i will make him love me. i will win honor, and do such deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me though he had fifty other sons." "i will go by land and into the mountains, and so round to athens. perhaps there i may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my father's love." so theseus went by land and away into the mountains, with his father's sword upon his thigh. and he went up into the gloomy glens, up and up, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet, and the clouds drove damp about his head. but he went up and up, ever toiling on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones. on the stones a man was sitting wrapped in a cloak of bear-skin. when he saw theseus, he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled. "who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider's web?" theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer, but he thought, "is this some robber? has an adventure come to me already?" but the strange man laughed louder than ever and said, "bold fly, know thou not these glens are the web from which no fly ever finds his way out again, and i am the spider who eats the flies? come hither and let me feast upon you. it is of no use to run away, for these glens in the mountain make so cunning a web, that through it no man can find his way home." still theseus came steadily on, and he asked, "and what is your name, bold spider, and where are your spider's fangs?" the strange man laughed again. "men call me the club-bearer, and here is my spider's fang," and he lifted off from the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze. "with this i pound all proud flies," he said. "so give me up that gay sword of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest i pound you and by ill-luck you die!" but theseus wrapped his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him. thrice he struck at theseus and made him bend under the blows like a sapling. and thrice theseus sprang upright after the blow, and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his sword, but the loose folds of the bear-skin saved him. then theseus grew angry and closed with him, and caught him by the throat, and they fell and rolled over together. but when theseus rose up from the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet. so theseus took the strange man's club and his bear-skin and went upon his journey down the glens, till he came to a broad green valley, and he saw flocks and herds sleeping beneath the trees. and by the side of a pleasant fountain were nymphs and shepherds dancing, but no one piped to them as they danced. [illustration: they leapt across the pool and came to him.] when they saw theseus they shrieked, and the shepherds ran off and drove away their flocks, while the nymphs dived into the fountain and vanished. theseus wondered and laughed, "what strange fancies have folks here, who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance." but he was tired and dusty and thirsty, so he thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep as it trickled down from stone to stone. and when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat on green cushions of moss. one said, "surely he is not the club-bearer," and another, "he looks no robber, but a fair and gentle youth." then theseus smiled and called them. "fair nymphs, i am not the club-bearer. he sleeps among the kites and crows, but i have brought away his bear-skin and his club." they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds back. and theseus told them how he had slain the club-bearer, and the shepherds kissed his feet and sang, "now we shall feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance. for the cruel club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more." then the shepherds brought him kids' flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought him honey from the rocks. and theseus ate and drank with them, and they begged him to stay, but he would not. "i have a great work to do;" he said, "i must go towards athens." and the shepherds said, "you must look warily about you, lest you meet the robber, called the pine-bender. for he bends down two pine-trees and binds all travelers hand and foot between them, and when he lets the trees go their bodies are torn in sunder." but theseus went on swiftly, for his heart burned to meet that cruel robber. and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the road ran between high rocks. there the robber sat upon a stone by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and a cord laid ready by his side, and over his head, upon the fir-top, hung the bones of murdered men. then theseus shouted to him, "holla, thou valiant pine-bender, hast thou two fir-trees left for me?" the robber leapt to his feet and answered, pointing to the bones above his head, "my larder has grown empty lately, so i have two fir-trees ready for thee." he rushed on theseus, lifting his club, and theseus rushed upon him, and they fought together till the greenwoods rang. then theseus heaved up a mighty stroke and smote the pine-bearer down upon his face, and knelt upon his back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, "as thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee." and he bent down two young fir-trees and bound the robber between them for all his struggling and his prayers, and as he let the trees go the robber perished, and theseus went on, leaving him to the hawks and crows. clearing the land of monsters as he went, theseus saw at last the plain of athens before him. and as he went up through athens all the people ran out to see him, for his fame had gone before him, and every one knew of his mighty deeds, and they shouted, "here comes the hero!" but theseus went on sadly and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his father. he went up the holy stairs to the spot where the palace of Ægeus stood. he went straight into the hall and stood upon the threshold and looked round. he saw his cousins sitting at the table, and loud they laughed and fast they passed the wine-cup round, but no Ægeus sat among them. they saw theseus and called to him, "holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?" "i come to ask for hospitality." "then take it and welcome. you look like a hero and a bold warrior, and we like such to drink with us." "i ask no hospitality of you; i ask it of Ægeus the king, the master of this house." at that some growled, and some laughed and shouted, "heyday! we are all masters here." "then i am master as much as the rest of you," said theseus, and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus, but he was nowhere to be seen. the revelers looked at him and then at each other, and each whispered to the man next him, "this is a forward fellow; he ought to be thrust out at the door." but each man's neighbor whispered in return, "his shoulders are broad; will you rise and put him out?" so they all sat still where they were. then theseus called to the servants and said, "go tell king Ægeus, your master, that theseus is here and asks to be his guest awhile." a servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber with medeia, the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. and when Ægeus heard of theseus he turned pale and again red, and rose from his seat trembling, while medeia, the witch, watched him like a snake. "what is theseus to you?" she asked. but he said hastily, "do you not know who this theseus is? the hero who has cleared the country from all monsters. i must go out and welcome him." so Ægeus came into the hall, and when theseus saw him his heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome him. but he controlled himself and thought, "my father may not wish for me, after all. i will try him before i discover myself." and he bowed low before Ægeus and said, "i have delivered the king's realm from many monsters, therefore i am come to ask a reward of the king." old Ægeus looked on him and loved him, but he only sighed and said, "it is little that i can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is worthy of you." "all i ask," said theseus, "is to eat and drink at your table." "that i can give you," said Ægeus, "if at least i am master in my own hall." then he bade them put a seat for theseus, and set before him the best of the feast, and theseus sat and ate so much that all the company wondered at him, but always he kept his club by his side. but medeia, the dark witch-maiden, was watching all the while, and she saw how the heart of Ægeus opened to theseus, and she said to herself, "this youth will be master here, unless i hinder it." then she went back modestly to her chamber, while theseus ate and drank, and all the servants whispered, "this, then, is the man who killed the monsters! how noble are his looks, and how huge his size! ah, would he were our master's son!" presently medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels and her rich eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all the guests could look at nothing else. and in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold. she came up to theseus, and spoke in a sweet and winning voice, "hail to the hero! drink of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil and heals all wounds;" and as she spoke she poured sparkling wine into the cup. theseus looked up into her fair face and into her deep dark eyes, and as he looked he shrank and shuddered, for they were dry eyes like the eyes of a snake. then he rose and said, "the wine is rich, and the wine-bearer fair. let her pledge me first herself in the cup that the wine may be sweeter." medeia turned pale and stammered, "forgive me, fair hero, but i am ill and dare drink no wine." theseus looked again into her eyes and cried, "thou shalt pledge me in that cup or die!" then medeia shrieked and dashed the cup to the ground and fled, for there was strong poison in that wine. and medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it, and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more. [illustration: theseus looked up into her fair face.] Ægeus cried, "what have you done?" but theseus said, "i have rid the land of one enchantment, now i will rid it of one more." and he came close to Ægeus and drew from his cloak the sword and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him, "the stone is lifted." Ægeus stepped back a pace and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim, and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and theseus wept, till they had no strength left to weep more. then Ægeus turned to all the people and cried, "behold my son!" but the cousins were angry and drew their swords against theseus. twenty against one they fought, and yet theseus beat them all, till at last he was left alone in the palace with his new-found father. but before nightfall all the town came up, with dances and songs, because the king had found an heir to his royal house. so theseus stayed with his father all the winter through, and when spring drew near, he saw all the people of athens grow sad and silent. and he asked the reason of the silence and the sadness, but no one would answer him a word. then he went to his father and asked him, but Ægeus turned away his face and wept. but when spring had come, a herald stood in the market-place and cried, "o people and king of athens, where is your yearly tribute?" then a great lamentation arose throughout the city. but theseus stood up before the herald and cried, "i am a stranger here. tell me, then, why you come?" "to fetch the tribute which king Ægeus promised to king minos. blood was shed here unjustly, and king minos came to avenge it, and would not leave athens till the land had promised him tribute--seven youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship." then theseus groaned inwardly and said, "i will go myself with these youths and maidens, and kill king minos upon his royal throne." but Ægeus shrieked and cried, "you shall not go, my son, you shall not go to die horribly, as those youths and maidens die. for minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, and no one can escape from its winding ways, before they meet the minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. there he devours them horribly, and they never see this land again." and theseus said, "therefore all the more will i go with them, and slay the accursed minotaur." then Ægeus clung to his knees, but theseus would not stay, and at last he let him go, weeping bitterly, and saying only this last word, "promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may hardly be. take down the black sail of the ship, for i shall watch for it all day upon the cliffs, and hoist instead a white sail, that i may know afar off that you are safe." and theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place, where the herald stood and drew lots for the youths and maidens who were to sail in that sad ship. the people stood wailing and weeping as the lot fell on this one and on that, but theseus strode into the midst and cried, "here is one who needs no lot. i myself will be one of the seven." and the herald asked in wonder, "fair youth, do you know whither you are going?" "i know," answered theseus boldly; "let us go down to the black-sailed ship." so they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens and seven youths, and theseus before them all. and the people followed them, lamenting. but theseus whispered to his companions, "have hope, for the monster is not immortal." then their hearts were comforted a little, but they wept as they went on board; and the cliffs rang with the voice of their weeping. iii how theseus slew the minotaur and the ship sailed slowly on, till at last it reached the land of crete, and theseus stood before king minos, and they looked each other in the face. minos bade take the youths and the maidens to prison, and cast them to the minotaur one by one. then theseus cried, "a boon, o minos! let me be thrown first to the monster. for i came hither, for that very purpose, of my own will and not by lot." "who art thou, thou brave youth?" asked the king. "i am the son of Ægeus, the king of athens, and i am come here to end the yearly tribute." and minos pondered a while, looking steadfastly at him, and he thought, "the lad means to atone by his own death for his father's sin;" and he answered mildly, "go back in peace, my son. it is a pity that one so brave should die." but theseus said, "i have sworn that i will not go back till i have seen the monster face to face." at that minos frowned and said, "then thou shalt see him." and they led theseus away into the prison, with the other youths and maidens. now ariadne, the daughter of minos, saw theseus as she came out of her white stone hall, and she loved him for his courage and his beauty, and she said, "it is shameful that such a youth should die." and by night she went down to the prison and told him all her heart, and said, "flee down to your ship at once, for i have bribed the guards before the door. flee, you and all your friends, and go back in peace, and take me with you. for i dare not stay after you are gone. my father will kill me miserably, if he knows what i have done." and theseus stood silent awhile, for he was astonished and confounded by her beauty. but at last he said, "i cannot go home in peace till i have seen and slain this minotaur, and put an end to the terrors of my land." "and will you kill the minotaur? how then will you do it?" asked ariadne in wonder. "i know not, nor do i care, but he must be strong if he be too strong for me," said theseus. then she loved him all the more and said, "but when you have killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?" "i know not, neither do i care, but it must be a strange road if i do not find it out before i have eaten up the monster's carcass." then ariadne loved him yet more, and said, "fair youth, you are too bold, but i can help you, weak as i am. i will give you a sword, and with that perhaps you may slay the monster, and a clue of thread, and by that perhaps you may find your way out again. only promise me that if you escape you will take me home with you." then theseus laughed and said, "am i not safe enough now?" and he hid his sword, and rolled up the clue in his hand, and then he fell down before ariadne and kissed her hands and her feet, while she wept over him a long while. then the princess went away, and theseus lay down and slept sweetly. when evening came the guards led him away to the labyrinth. and he went down into that doleful gulf, and he turned on the left hand and on the right hand, and went up and down till his head was dizzy, but all the while he held the clue. for when he went in he fastened it to a stone and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on, and it lasted till he met the minotaur in a narrow chasm between black cliffs. and when he saw the minotaur, he stopped a while, for he had never seen so strange a monster. his body was a man's, but his head was the head of a bull, and his teeth were the teeth of a lion. when he saw theseus, he roared and put his head down and rushed right at him. but theseus stepped aside nimbly, and as the monster passed by, cut him in the knee, and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed him, and stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster fled, bellowing wildly. theseus followed him, holding the clue of thread in his left hand, and at last he came up with him, where he lay panting, and caught him by the horns, and forced his head back, and drove the keen sword through his throat. then theseus turned and went back, limping and weary, feeling his way by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that doleful place, and saw waiting for him--whom but ariadne? and he whispered, "it is done," and showed her the sword. then she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison and opened the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay sleeping heavily, for ariadne had drugged them with wine. so they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board and hoisted up the sail, and the night lay dark around them, so that they escaped all safe, and ariadne became the wife of theseus. but that fair ariadne never came to athens with her husband. some say that, as she lay sleeping on the shore, one of the gods found her and took her up into the sky, and some say that the gods drove away theseus, and took ariadne from him by force. but, however that may be, in his haste or his grief, theseus forgot to put up the white sail. now Ægeus his father sat on the cliffs and watched day after day, and strained his old eyes across the waters to see the ship afar. and when he saw the black sail he gave up theseus for dead, and in his grief he fell into the sea and was drowned, and it is called the Ægean sea to this day. then theseus was king of athens, and he guarded it and ruled it well, and many wise things he did, so that his people honored him after he was dead, for many a hundred years, as the father of their freedom and of their laws. hercules adapted by thomas cartwright i the twelve labors of hercules hercules, the hero of strength and courage, was the son of jupiter and alcmene. his life was one long series of wonders. as soon as he was born, juno, who hated alcmene with an exceeding great hatred, went to the fates and begged them to make the life of the newly-born babe hard and perilous. the fates were three, namely, clotho who spun the thread of life, lachesis who settled the lot of gods and mortals in life, and atropos who cut the thread of life spun by clotho. when once the fates had decided what the lot of any being, whether god or man, was to be, jupiter himself could not alter their decision. it was to these fateful three, then, that juno made her prayer concerning the infant hercules. she could not, however, prevent him from having an honorable career, since it was written that he should triumph over all dangers and difficulties that might beset him. all that was conceded to her was that hercules should be put under the dominion of eurystheus, king of thebes, his eldest brother, a harsh and pitiless man. this only half satisfied the hatred of juno, but it made the life of hercules exceedingly bitter. in fact, hercules was but a child, when juno sent two enormous serpents against him. these serpents, gliding into his cradle, were on the point of biting the child when he, with his own hands, seized them and strangled the life out of their slimy bodies. having grown up to man's estate, hercules did many mighty deeds of valor that need not be recounted here. but the hatred of juno always pursued him. at length, when he had been married several years, she made him mad and impelled him in his madness to kill his own beloved children! when he came again to his sober senses, and learnt that he was the murderer of his own offspring he was filled with horror, and betook himself into exile so that he might hide his face from his fellow men. after a time he went to the oracle at delphi to ask what he should do in atonement for his dreadful deed. he was ordered to serve his brother eurystheus--who, by the help of juno, had robbed him of his kingdom--for twelve years. after this he was to become one of the immortals. eurystheus feared that hercules might use his great strength and courage against him, in punishment for the evil that he had done. he therefore resolved to banish him and to impose such tasks upon him as must certainly bring about his destruction. hence arose the famous twelve labors of hercules. eurystheus first set hercules to keep his sheep at nemea and to kill the lion that ofttimes carried off the sheep, and sometimes the shepherd also. the man-eater lurked in a wood that was hard by the sheep-run. hercules would not wait to be attacked by him. arming himself with a heavy club and with a bow and arrows, he went in search of the lion's lair and soon found it. finding that arrows and club made no impression upon the thick skin of the lion, the hero was constrained to trust entirely to his own thews and sinews. seizing the lion with both hands, he put forth all his mighty strength and strangled the beast just as he had strangled the serpents in his cradle. then, having despoiled the dead man-eater of his skin, hercules henceforth wore this trophy as a garment, and as a shield and buckler. in those days, there was in greece a monstrous serpent known as the hydra of lerna, because it haunted a marsh of that name whence it issued in search of prey. as his second labor, hercules was sent to slay this creature. this reptile had nine heads of which the midmost was immortal. when hercules struck off one of these heads with his club, two others at once appeared in its place. by the help of his servant, hercules burned off the nine heads, and buried the immortal one beneath a huge rock. the blood of the hydra was a poison so subtle that hercules, by dipping the points of his arrows therein, made them so deadly that no mortal could hope to recover from a wound inflicted by them. we shall see later that hercules himself died from the poison of one of these self-same arrows. the third labor imposed upon hercules by eurystheus was the capture of the arcadian stag. this remarkable beast had brazen feet and antlers of solid gold. hercules was to carry the stag alive to eurystheus. it proved no easy task to do this. the stag was so fleet of foot that no one had been able to approach it. for more than a year, over hill and dale, hercules pursued the beast without ever finding a chance of capturing it without killing it. at length he shot at it and wounded it with an arrow--not, you may be sure, with one of the poisoned ones--and, having caught it thus wounded, he carried it on his shoulder to his brother and thus completed the third of his labors. in the neighborhood of mount erymanthus, in arcadia, there lived, in those far-off days, a savage boar that was in the habit of sallying forth from his lair and laying waste the country round about, nor had any man been able to capture or restrain him. to free the country from the ravages of this monster was the fourth labor of hercules. having tracked the animal to his lurking place after chasing him through the deep snow, hercules caught him in a net and bore him away in triumph on his shoulders to the feet of the amazed eurystheus. augeas, king of elis, in greece, not far from mount olympus, owned a herd of oxen , in number. they were stabled in stables that had not been cleaned out for thirty years. the stench was terrible and greatly troubled the health of the land. eurystheus set hercules the task of cleaning out these augean stables in a single day! but the wit of the hero was equal to the occasion. with his great strength he diverted the flow of two rivers that ran their courses near the stables and made them flow right through the stables themselves, and lo! the nuisance that had been growing for thirty years was no more! such was the fifth labor of hercules. on an island in a lake near stymphalus, in arcadia, there nested in those days some remarkable and terrible birds--remarkable because their claws, wings and beaks were brazen, and terrible because they fed on human flesh and attacked with their terrible beaks and claws all who came near the lake. to kill these dreadful birds was the sixth labor. minerva supplied hercules with a brazen rattle with which he roused the birds from their nests, and then slew them with his poisoned arrows while they were on the wing. this victory made hercules popular throughout the whole of greece, and eurystheus saw that nothing he could devise was too hard for the hero to accomplish. the seventh labor was to capture a mad bull that the sea-god neptune had let loose in the island of crete, of which island minos was at that time king. this ferocious creature breathed out from his nostrils a whirlwind of flaming fire. but hercules was, as you no doubt have guessed, too much for the brazen bull. he not only caught the monster, but tamed him, and bore him aloft on his shoulders, into the presence of the affrighted eurystheus, who was at a loss to find a task impossible for hercules to perform. the taking of the mares of diomedes was the eighth labor. these horses were not ordinary horses, living on corn. they were flesh eaters, and moreover, they devoured human beings, and so were hateful to mankind. on this occasion hercules was not alone. he organised a hunt and, by the help of a few friends, caught the horses and led them to eurystheus. the scene of this labor was thrace, an extensive region lying between the Ægean sea, the euxine or black sea, and the danube. seizing the girdle of hippolyte was the next feat set for the hero. this labor was due to the desire of the daughter of eurystheus for the girdle of hippolyte, queen of the amazons--a tribe of female warriors. it is said that the girls had their right breasts cut off in order that they might use the bow with greater ease in battle! this, indeed, is the meaning of the term amazon, which signifies "breastless." after a troublesome journey hercules arrived safely at the court of hippolyte, who received him kindly; and this labor might, perchance, have been a bloodless one had not his old enemy juno stirred up the female warriors against him. in the fight that followed, hercules killed hippolyte--a feat scarcely to be proud of--and carried off her girdle, and thus the vanity of the daughter of eurystheus was gratified. to capture the oxen of geryon was the tenth labor of hercules. in the person of geryon we meet another of those strange beings in which the makers of myths and fairy tales seem to revel. geryon was a three-bodied monster whose cattle were kept by a giant and a two-headed dog! it is said that hercules, on his way to the performance of this tenth labor, formed the pillars of hercules--those two rocky steeps that guard the entrance to the straits of gibraltar, i.e., calpa (gibraltar) and abyla (ceuta)--by rending asunder the one mountain these two rocks are said to have formed, although now they are eighteen miles apart. hercules slew the giant, the two-headed dog and geryon himself, and in due course brought the oxen to eurystheus. sometime afterwards, eurystheus, having heard rumors of a wonderful tree which, in some unknown land, yielded golden apples, was moved with great greed to have some of this remarkable fruit. hence he commanded hercules to make the quest of this tree his eleventh labor. the hero had no notion where the tree grew, but he was bound by his bond to obey the king, so he set out and after a time reached the kingdom of atlas, king of africa. he had been told that atlas could give him news of the tree. i must tell you that king atlas, having in the olden time helped the titans in their wars against the gods, was undergoing punishment for this offence, his penance being to hold up the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders. this means, perhaps, that in the kingdom of atlas there were some mountains so high that their summits seemed to touch the sky. hercules offered to relieve atlas of his load for a time, if he would but tell him where the famous tree was, upon which grew the golden fruit. atlas consented, and for some days hercules supported the earth and the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders. then atlas opened the gate of the garden of the hesperides to hercules. these hesperides were none other than the three daughters of atlas, and it was their duty, in which they were helped by a dragon, to guard the golden apples. hercules killed the dragon and carried off the apples, but they were afterwards restored to their place by minerva. cerberus, as perhaps you know, was the triple-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the nether world. to bring up this three-headed monster from the land of the dead was the last of the twelve labors. it was also the hardest. pluto, the god of the nether world, told hercules he might carry off the dog if he could take him without using club or spear--never dreaming that the hero could perform such a difficult feat. hercules penetrated to the entrance of pluto's gloomy regions, and, putting forth his strength succeeded, not only in seizing cerberus, but also in carrying him to eurystheus, and so brought the twelve labors to an end, and was released from his servitude to his cruel brother. these exploits of strength and endurance do not by any means complete the tale of the wonderful doings of the great greek hero. he continued his deeds of daring to the end of his life. one of the last of his exploits was to kill the eagle that daily devoured the liver of prometheus, whose story is both curious and interesting. he is said to have been the great friend of mankind, and was chained to a rock on mount caucasus because he stole fire from heaven and gave it as a gift to the sons of man. while in chains an eagle was sent by jupiter daily to feed on prometheus's liver, which jupiter made to grow again each night. from this continuous torture he was released by hercules, who slew the eagle and burst asunder the bonds of this friend of man. ii hercules in the nether world theseus and pirithous were two athenians, who, after having been at enmity for a long time at last became the very best of friends. they, like hercules, had passed their youth in doing doughty deeds for the benefit of mankind, and their fame had spread abroad throughout the land of greece. this did not prevent them from forming a very foolish project. they actually planned to go down to hades and carry off pluto's wife, proserpina, whom pirithous himself wished to marry. this rashness brought about their ruin, for they were seized by pluto and chained to a rock. all this hercules, who was the friend of theseus, learnt while on one of his journeys, and he resolved to rescue theseus from his eternal punishment. as for pirithous, the prime mover in the attempted outrage, him hercules meant to leave to his fate. hercules had been warned to take a black dog to sacrifice to hecate and a cake to mollify cerberus, as was usual; but he would not listen to such tales and meant to force his way to theseus. when he found himself face to face with cerberus he seized him, threw him down and chained him with strong chains. the next difficulty in the way was black and muddy acheron, the first of the seven rivers that ran round hades, and formed a barrier between the living and the departed. this river had not always run under the vaults of hades. formerly its course was upon the earth. but when the titans attempted to scale the heaven, this river had the ill luck to quench their thirst, and jupiter to punish even the waters of the river for abetting his enemies, turned its course aside into the under world where its waves, slow-moving and filthy, lost themselves in styx, the largest of all the rivers of hades, which ran round pluto's gloomy kingdom no less than nine times. on reaching the banks of styx, hercules was surprised to see flying around him a crowd of disconsolate spirits, whom charon the ferryman refused to row across styx, because they could not pay him his fee of an obol, a greek coin worth about three cents of our money, which the greeks were accustomed to place in the mouths of their dead for the purpose, as they thought, of paying charon his ferry fee. fierce charon frowned when he beheld hercules for he feared his light boat of bark would sink under his weight, it being only adapted for the light and airy spirits of the dead; but when the son of jupiter told him his name he was mollified and allowed the hero to take his place at his side. as soon as the boat had touched the shore, hercules went towards the gloomy palace of pluto where he with difficulty, on account of the darkness, saw pluto seated upon an ebony throne by the side of his beloved proserpina. pluto was not at all pleased to see the hero, as he hated the living and had interest only in the shades of the dead. when hercules announced himself, however, he gave him a permit to go round his kingdom and, in addition, acceded to his prayer for the release of theseus. at the foot of pluto's throne hercules saw death the reaper. he was clothed in a black robe spotted with stars and his fleshless hand held the sharp sickle with which he is said to cut down mortals as the reaper cuts down corn. our hero was glad to escape from this dismal palace and as he did not know exactly where to find theseus he began to make the circuit of hades. during his progress he saw the shades of many people of whom, on earth, he had heard much talk. he had been wandering about some time when, in a gloomy chamber, he saw three old sisters, wan and worn, spinning by the feeble light of a lamp. they were the fates, deities whose duty it was to thread the days of all mortals who appeared on earth, were it but for an instant. clotho, the spinner of the thread of life, was the eldest of the three. she held in her hand a distaff, wound with black and white woollen yarn, with which were sparingly intermixed strands of silk and gold. the wool stood for the humdrum everyday life of man: the silk and gold marked the days of mirth and gladness, always, alas! too few in number. lachesis, the second of the fates, was quickly turning with her left hand a spindle, while her right hand was leading a fine thread which the third sister, atropos by name, used to cut with a pair of sharp shears at the death of each mortal. you may imagine how hard these three sisters worked when you remember that the thread of life of every mortal had to pass through their fateful fingers. hercules would have liked them to tell him how long they had yet to spin for him, but they had no time to answer questions and so the hero passed on. some steps farther he stopped before three venerable looking old men, seated upon a judgment seat, judging, as it seemed, a man newly come to pluto's kingdom. they were minos, Æacus and rhadamanthus, the three judges of hades, whose duty it was to punish the guilty by casting them into a dismal gulf, tartarus, whence none might ever emerge, and to reward the innocent by transporting them to the elysian fields where delight followed delight in endless pleasure. these judges could never be mistaken because themis, the goddess of justice, held in front of them a pair of scales in which she weighed the actions of men. their decrees were instantly carried out by a pitiless goddess, nemesis, or vengeance by name, armed with a whip red with the gore of her sinful victims. iii black tartarus and the elysian fields immediately on quitting the presence of the three judges, hercules saw them open out before him an immense gulf whence arose thick clouds of black smoke. this smoke hid from view a river of fire that rolled its fiery waves onwards with a deafening din. not far remote from this rolled cocytus, another endless stream, fed by the tears of the wretches doomed to black tartarus, in which place of eternal torment hercules now found himself. the rulers of these mournful regions were the furies who, with unkempt hair and armed with whips, tormented the condemned without mercy by showing them continually in mirrors the images of their former crimes. into tartarus were thrown, never to come out again, the shades or manes of traitors, ingrates, perjurers, unnatural children, murderers and hypocrites who had during their lives pretended to be upright and honorable in order to deceive the just. but these wretches were not the only denizens of black tartarus. there were to be seen great scoundrels who had startled the world with their frightful crimes. for these pluto and the furies had invented special tortures. among the criminals so justly overtaken by the divine vengeance hercules noticed salmoneus, whom he had formerly met upon earth. this madman, whose pride had overturned his reason, thought himself to be a god equal to the thunderer himself. in order to imitate remotely the rolling of thunder, he used to be driven at night, over a brazen bridge, in a chariot, whence he hurled lighted torches upon his unhappy slaves who were crowded on the bridge and whom his guards knocked down in imitation of jove's thunder-bolts. indignant at the pride and cruelty of the tyrant, jupiter struck him with lightning in deadly earnest and then cast him into the outer darkness of tartarus, where he was for ever burning without being consumed. sisyphus, the brother of salmoneus, was no better than he. when on earth, he had been the terror of attica, where, as a brigand, he had robbed and murdered with relentless cruelty. theseus, whom hercules was bent on freeing from his torment, had met and killed this robber-assassin, and jupiter, for his sins, decreed that the malefactor should continually be rolling up a hill in tartarus a heavy stone which, when with incredible pains he had brought nearly to the top, always rolled back again, and he had to begin over and over again the heart-breaking ascent. some distance from sisyphus hercules came upon tantalus, who, in the flesh, had been king of phrygia, but who now, weak from hunger and parched with thirst, was made to stand to his chin in water with branches of tempting luscious fruit hanging ripe over his head. when he essayed to drink the water it always went from him, and when he stretched out his hand to pluck the fruit, back the branches sprang out of reach. in addition an immense rock, hung over his head, threatened every moment to crush him. it is said that tantalus, when in the flesh, had betrayed the secrets of the gods and also committed other great crimes. for this he was "tantalized" with food and drink, which, seeming always to be within his reach, ever mocked his hopes by eluding his grasp. the groans of a crowd of disheveled women next attracted the affrighted attention of hercules. they were forty-nine of the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who, at the instigation of their father, had killed their husbands because danaus thought they were conspiring to depose him. one only of the fifty, to wit hypermnestra, had the courage to disobey this unlawful command and so saved the life of lynceus, her husband, with whom she fled. later on lynceus returned and slew the cruel king in battle. to punish the forty-nine danaides, jupiter cast them into the outer darkness of black tartarus, where they were ever engaged in the hopeless task of pouring water into a sieve. hypermnestra, on the contrary, was honored while alive, and also after her death, for loving goodness even more than she loved her father. glutted with horror hercules at length quitted gloomy tartarus and beheld in front of him still another river. this was lethe. whoso drank the waters of this river, which separated the place of torment from the abode of the blest, lost memory of all that had been aforetime in his mind, and so was no longer troubled by even the remembrance of human misery. across lethe stretched the elysian fields where the shades of the blest dwelt in bliss without alloy. an enchanting greenness made the sweet-smelling groves as pleasant to the eye as they were to the sense of smell. sunlit, yet never parched with torrid heat, everywhere their verdure charmed the delighted eye, and all things conspired to make the shades of the good and wise, who were privileged to dwell in these elysian fields, delightfully happy. hercules saw, in these shady regions of the blest, a crowd of kings, heroes and men and women of lower degree who, while on earth, had loved and served their fellow men. having at length found and released theseus, hercules set out with him for the upper world. the two left hades by an ivory door, the key of which pluto had confided to their care. what awesome tales they had to recount to their wondering friends of the marvels of black tartarus and of radiant elysium! iv the tunic of nessus the centaur there abode in thessaly, in the days of hercules, a strange race of men who had the head and arms of a man together with the body of a horse. they were called centaurs, or bull-slayers. one of them named cheiron, famous for his knowledge of medicine, music and botany, had been the teacher of hercules. but many of them, although learned, were not good. hercules and theseus had waged war on them and had killed many, so that their numbers were greatly lessened. having married deianira, the daughter of a powerful king of calydon, in greece, hercules was traveling home with her when he came to the banks of a river and was at a loss how to cross it. seeing his perplexity, nessus, one of the centaurs, offered to take deianira on his back and carry her over the stream. this offer hercules gladly accepted. no sooner, however, did the crafty centaur obtain possession of deianira than he made off with her, intending to have her as his own wife. you can easily imagine how angry this outrage made hercules. he shot one of his poisoned arrows with so much force that it went right through the traitor centaur, and wounded him even unto death. but, before dying, nessus had time to tell deianira that if she wanted to keep hercules always true to her she had but to take his shirt, and, when her husband's love was waning, prevail on him to wear it. deianira took the shirt, and shortly afterwards, being afraid that her husband was ceasing to love her, she sent it to him as a present. now, you will remember that hercules had shot through the shirt of nessus one of his poisoned arrows, and you will not be surprised to hear that some of the poison had remained in the shirt. so when hercules put it on, which he did immediately upon receiving it, he was seized with frenzy and, in his madness, he uttered terrible cries and did dreadful deeds. with his powerful hands he broke off huge pieces of rock, tore up pine-trees by their roots and hurled them with resounding din into the valley. he could not take off the fatal shirt, and as he tore off portions of it he tore, at the same time, his quivering flesh. the servant of deianira who had carried him the fatal shirt, and who wished to solace him in his pain, he seized as she approached him and flung headlong into the sea, where she was changed into a rock that long, so runs the legend, kept its human form. but at length the majesty and the courage of the hero asserted themselves, and, although still in agony, his madness left him. calling to his side his friend philoctetes, he wished to embrace him once more before dying; but fearful lest he should, in so doing, infect his friend with the deadly poison that was consuming him, he cried in his agony: "alas, i am not even permitted to embrace thee!" then he gathered together the trees he had uprooted and made a huge funeral pyre, such as was used by the ancients in burning their dead. climbing to the top of the heap, he spread out the skin of the nemean lion, and, supporting himself upon his club, gave the signal for philoctetes to kindle the fire that was to reduce him to ashes. in return for this service he gave philoctetes a quiver full of those deadly arrows that had been dipped in the blood of the hydra of lerna. he further enjoined his friend to let no man know of his departure from life, to the intent that the fear of his approach might prevent fresh monsters and new robbers from ravaging the earth. thus died hercules, and after his death he was received as a god amongst the immortals on mount olympus, where he married hebe, jove's cupbearer. in his honor mortals were commanded to build altars and to raise temples. the perilous voyage of Æneas adapted by alice zimmekn once upon a time, nearly three thousand years ago, the city of troy in asia minor was at the height of its prosperity. it was built on a fortified hill on the southern slopes of the hellespont, and encircled by strong walls that the gods had helped to build. through their favor troy became so strong and powerful that she subdued many of the neighboring states and forced them to fight for her and do her bidding. thus it happened that when the greeks came to asia with an army of , men, troy was able to hold out against them for nine years, and in the tenth was only taken by a trick. in the "iliad" of homer you may read all about the quarrel between the trojans and greeks, the fighting before troy and the brave deeds done by hector and achilles, and many other heroes. you will see there how the gods took part in the quarrel, and how juno, who was the wife of jupiter and queen of heaven, hated troy because paris had given the golden apple to venus as the fairest among goddesses. juno never forgave this insult to her beauty, and vowed that she would not rest till the hated city was destroyed and its very name wiped from the face of the earth. you shall now hear how she carried out her threat, and overwhelmed Æneas with disasters. after a siege that lasted ten years troy was taken at last by means of the wooden horse, which the trojans foolishly dragged into the city with their own hands. inside it were hidden a number of greeks, who were thus carried into the heart of the enemy's city. the trojans celebrated the departure of the greeks by feasting and drinking far into the night; but when at last they retired to rest, the greeks stole out of their hiding-place, and opened the gates to their army, which had only pretended to withdraw. before the trojans had recovered their wits the town was full of enemies, who threw blazing torches on the houses and killed every citizen who fell into their hands. among the many noble princes who fought against the greeks none was braver and handsomer than Æneas. his mother was the goddess venus, and his father a brave and powerful prince named anchises, while creusa, his wife, was one of king priam's daughters. on that dreadful night, when the greeks were burning and killing in the very streets of troy, Æneas lay sleeping in his palace when there appeared to him a strange vision. he thought that hector stood before him carrying the images of the trojan gods and bade him arise and leave the doomed city. "to you troy entrusts her gods and her fortunes. take these images, and go forth beyond the seas, and with their auspices found a new troy on foreign shores." roused from his slumbers Æneas sprang up in haste, put on his armor and rushed into the fray. he was joined by a few comrades, and together they made their way through the enemy, killing all who blocked their path. but when they reached the royal palace and found that the greeks had already forced their way in and killed the aged man by his own hearth, Æneas remembered his father and his wife and his little son ascanius. since he could not hope to save the city he might at least take thought for his own kin. while he still hesitated whether to retire or continue the fight, his goddess mother appeared and bade him go and succor his household. "your efforts to save the city are vain," she said. "the gods themselves make war on troy. juno stands by the gate urging on the greeks, jupiter supplies them with hope and courage, and neptune is breaking down with his trident the walls he helped to raise. fly, my son, fly. i will bring you safely to your own threshold." guided by her protecting hand, Æneas came in safety to his palace, and bade his family prepare in all haste for flight. but his father refused to stir a step. "let me die here at the enemy's hands," he implored. "better thus than to go into exile in my old age. do you go, my son, whither the gods summon you, and leave me to my fate." in vain Æneas reasoned and pleaded, in vain he refused to go without his father; neither prayers nor entreaties would move anchises till the gods sent him a sign. suddenly the child's hair burst into flames. the father and mother were terrified, but anchises recognised the good omen, and prayed the gods to show whether his interpretation was the true one. in answer there came a clap of thunder and a star flashed across the sky and disappeared among the woods on mount ida. then anchises was sure that the token was a true one. "delay no more!" he cried. "i will accompany you, and go in hope wheresoever the gods of my country shall lead me. this is a sign from heaven, and the gods, if it be their will, may yet preserve our city." "come then, father!" cried Æneas joyfully. "let me take you on my back, for your feeble limbs would move too slowly for the present danger. you shall hold the images of the gods, since it would be sacrilege for me to touch them with my blood-stained hands. little ascanius shall take my hand, and creusa will follow us closely." he now ordered the servants to collect all the most valuable possessions, and bring them to him at the temple of ceres, just outside the city. then he set out with father, wife and son, and they groped their way through the city by the light of burning homesteads. thus they passed at last through the midst of the enemy, and reached the temple of ceres. there, to his dismay, Æneas missed creusa. he rushed back to the city and made his way to his own house. he found it in flames, and the enemy were sacking the ruins. nowhere could he find a trace of his wife. wild with grief and anxiety he wandered at random through the city till suddenly he fancied he saw creusa. but it was her ghost, not her living self. she spoke to her distracted husband and bade him grieve no more. "think not," she said, "that this has befallen without the will of the gods. the fates have decided that creusa shall not follow you to your new home. there are long and weary wanderings before you, and you must traverse many stormy seas before you come to the western land where the river tiber pours its gentle stream through the fertile pastures of italy. there shall you find a kingdom and a royal bride. cease then to mourn for creusa." Æneas tried to clasp her in his arms, but in vain, for he only grasped the empty air. then he understood that the gods desired him to go forth into the world alone. while Æneas was seeking creusa a group of trojans who had escaped the enemy and the flames had collected at the temple of ceres, and he found them ready and willing to join him and follow his fortunes. the first rays of the sun were touching the peaks of ida when aeneas and his comrades turned their backs on the ill-fated city, and went towards the rising sun and the new hope. for several months Æneas and his little band of followers lived as refugees among the hills of ida, and their numbers grew as now one, now another, came to join them. all through the winter they were hard at work cutting down trees and building ships, which were to carry them across the seas. when spring came the fleet was ready, and the little band set sail. first they merely crossed the hellespont to thrace, for aeneas hoped to found a city here and revive the name of troy. but bad omens came to frighten the trojans and drive them back to their ships. they now took a southward course, and sailed on without stopping till they reached delos, the sacred isle of apollo. here aeneas entered the temple and offered prayer to the lord of prophecy. "grant us a home, apollo, grant us an abiding city. preserve a second troy for the scanty remnant that escaped the swords of the greeks and the wrath of cruel achilles. tell us whom to follow, whither to turn, where to found our city." his prayer was not offered in vain, for a voice spoke in answer. "ye hardy sons of dardanus, the land that erst sent forth your ancestral race shall welcome you back to its fertile fields. go and seek your ancient mother. there shall the offspring of Æneas rule over all the lands, and their children's children unto the furthest generations." when he had heard this oracle, anchises said, "in the middle of the sea lies an island called crete, which is sacred to jupiter. there we shall find an older mount ida, and beside it the cradle of our race. thence, if tradition speaks truth, our great ancestor teucrus set sail for asia and there he founded his kingdom, and named our mountain ida. let us steer our course therefore to crete, and if jupiter be propitious, the third dawn will bring us to its shores." accordingly they set out again full of hope, and passed in and out again among the gleaming islands of the Ægean, till at last they came to crete. there they disembarked, and began to build a city. the houses were rising, the citadel was almost ready, the fields were planted and sown, and the young men were seeking wives, when suddenly the crops were stricken by a blight and the men by a pestilence. surely, they thought, this could not be the home promised them by apollo. in this distress anchises bade his son return to delos and implore the gods to vouchsafe further counsel. at night Æneas lay down to rest, troubled by many anxieties, when suddenly he was roused by the moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating the images of the trojan gods. it seemed as though they opened their lips and spoke to him. "all that apollo would have told you at delos, we may declare to you here, for he has given us a message to you. we followed your arms after the burning of troy, and traversed the ocean under your guidance, and we shall raise your descendants to the stars and give dominion to their city. but do not seek it here. these are not the shores that apollo assigns you, nor may crete be your abiding place. far to the west lies the land which the greeks called hesperia, but which now bears the name of italy. there is our destined home; thence came dardanus, our great ancestor and the father of our race." amazed at this vision, Æneas sprang up and lifted his hands to heaven in prayer. then he hastened to tell anchises of this strange event. they resolved to tarry no longer, but turning their backs on the rising walls they drew their ships down to the sea again, and once more set forth in search of a new country. now they sailed towards the west, and rounded the south of greece into the ionian sea. but a storm drove them out of their course, and the darkness was so thick that they could not tell night from day, and the helmsman, palinurus, knew not whither he was steering. thus they were tossed about aimlessly for three days and nights, till at last they saw land ahead and, lowering their sails, rowed safely into a quiet harbor. not a human being was in sight, but herds of cattle grazed on the pastures, and goats sported untended on the rocks. here was even food in plenty for hungry men. they killed oxen and goats, and made ready a feast for themselves, and a sacrifice for the gods. the repast was prepared, and Æneas and his comrades were about to enjoy it, when a sound of rustling wings was heard all round them. horrible creatures, half birds, half women, with long talons and cruel beaks, swooped down on the tables and carried off the food before the eyes of the terrified banqueters. these were the harpies, who had once been sent to plague king phineus, and when they were driven away by two of the argonauts, zetes and calais, took refuge in these islands. in vain the trojans attacked them with their swords, for the monsters would fly out of reach, and then dart back again on a sudden, and pounce once more on the food, while celæno, chief of the harpies, perched on a rock and chanted in hoarse tones a prophecy of ill omen. "you that kill our oxen and seek to drive us from our rightful home, hearken to my words, which jupiter declared to apollo, and apollo told even to me. you are sailing to italy, and you shall reach italy and enter its harbors. but you are not destined to surround your city with a wall, till cruel hunger and vengeance for the wrong you have done us force you to gnaw your very tables with your teeth." when the trojans heard this terrible prophecy their hearts sank within them, and anchises, lifting his hands to heaven, besought the gods to avert this grievous doom. thus, full of sad forebodings, they returned to their ships. their way now lay along the western coast of greece, and they were glad to slip unnoticed past the rocky island of ithaca, the home of ulysses the wily. for they did not know that he was still held captive by the nymph calypso, and that many years were to pass before he should be restored to his kingdom. they next cast anchor off leucadia, and passed the winter in these regions. in spring they sailed north again, and landed in epirus, and here to their surprise they found helenus, one of the sons of priam, ruling over a greek people. he welcomed his kinsman joyfully and, having the gift of prophecy from apollo, foretold the course of his wanderings. "italy, which you deem so near, is a far-distant land, and many adventures await you before you reach that shore where lies your destined home. before you reach it, you will visit sicily, and the realms of the dead and the island of circe. but i will give you a sign whereby you may know the appointed place. when by the banks of a secluded stream you shall see a huge white sow with her thirty young ones, then shall you have reached the limit of your wanderings. be sure to avoid the eastern coast of italy opposite these shores. wicked greek tribes have their dwelling there, and it is safer to pass at once to the western coast. on your left, you will hear in the strait the thundering roar of charybdis, and on the right grim scylla sits scowling in her cave ready to spring on the unwary traveler. better take a long circuit round sicily than come even within sight and sound of scylla. as soon as you touch the western shores of italy, go to the city of cumæ and the sibyl's cavern. try to win her favor, and she will tell you of the nations of italy and the wars yet to come, and how you may avoid each peril and accomplish every labor. one warning would i give you and enjoin it with all my power. if you desire to reach your journey's end in safety, forget not to do homage to juno. offer up prayers to her divinity, load her altars with gifts. then, and then only, may you hope for a happy issue from all your troubles!" so once more the trojans set sail, and obedient to the warnings of helenus they avoided the eastern coast of italy, and struck southward towards sicily. far up the channel they heard the roar of charybdis and hastened their speed in fear. soon the snowy cone of etna came into view with its column of smoke rising heavenward. as they lay at anchor hard by, a ragged, half-starved wretch ran out of the woods calling loudly on Æneas for succor. this was one of the comrades of ulysses, who had been left behind by mistake, and lived in perpetual dread of the savage cyclôpes. Æneas was moved to pity, and though the man was a greek and an enemy, he took him on board and gave him food and succor. before they left this place they had a glimpse of polyphemus himself. the blind giant came down the cliff with his flock, feeling his way with a huge staff of pine-trunk. he even stepped into the sea, and walked far out without wetting his thighs. the trojans hastily slipped their cables, and made away. polyphemus heard the sound of their oars, and called his brother cyclôpes to come and seize the strangers, but they were too late to overtake the fugitives. after this they continued their southward course, passing the island where syracuse now stands, and rounding the southern coast of sicily. then they sailed past the tall rock of acragas and palm-loving selinus, and so came to the western corner, where the harbor of drepanun gave them shelter. here a sorrow overtook Æneas, that neither the harpy nor the seer had foretold. anchises, weary with wandering and sick of long-deferred hope, fell ill and died. sadly Æneas sailed from hence without his trusted friend and counselor, and steered his course for italy. at last the goal seemed at hand and the dangers of the narrow strait had been escaped. but Æneas had a far more dangerous enemy than scylla and charybdis, for juno's wrath was not yet appeased. he had offered prayer and sacrifice, as helenus bade him, but her long-standing grudge was not so easily forgotten. she hated troy and the trojans with an undying hatred, and would not suffer even these few-storm-tossed wanderers to seek their new home in peace. she knew too that it was appointed by the fates that a descendant of this fugitive trojan should one day found a city destined to eclipse in wealth and glory her favorite city of carthage. this she desired to avert at all costs, and if even the queen of heaven was not strong enough to overrule fate, at least she resolved that the trojans should not enter into their inheritance without many and grievous tribulations. off the northerncoast of sicily lies a group of small islands, still called the Æolian isles, after Æolus, king of the winds, whose palace stood upon the largest. here he lived in a rock-bound castle, and kept the boisterous winds fast bound in strong dungeons, that they might not go forth unbidden to work havoc and destruction. but for his restraining hand they would have burst forth and swept away land and sea in their fury. to this rocky fortress juno came with a request to Æolus. "men of a race hateful to me are now crossing the sea. i beseech you, therefore, send a storm to scatter the ships and drown the men in the waves. as a reward i will give you one of my fairest nymphs in marriage." thus she urged, and at her bidding Æolus struck the rock and the prison gates were opened. the winds at once rushed forth in all directions. the clouds gathered and blotted out sky and daylight, thunder roared and lightning flashed, and the trojans thought their last hour had come. even Æneas lost heart, and envied the lot of those who fell before troy by the sword of diomede. soon a violent gust struck his ship, the oars were broken, and the prow turned round and exposed the side to the waves. the water closed over it, then opened again, and drew down the vessel, leaving the men floating on the water. three ships were dashed against sunken rocks, three were driven among the shallows and blocked with a mound of sand. another was struck from stem to stern, then sucked down into a whirlpool. one after another the rest succumbed, and it seemed as if each moment must see their utter destruction. meantime neptune in his palace at the bottom of the sea had noticed the sudden disturbance of the waters, and now put out his head above the waves to learn the cause of this commotion. when he saw the shattered trojan ships he guessed that this was juno's work. instantly he summoned the winds and chid them for daring to disturb the waters without his leave. "begone," he said, "and tell your master Æolus that the dominion of the sea is mine, not his. let him be content to keep guard over you and see that you do not escape from your prison." while he spoke neptune was busy calming the waters, and it was not long before he put the clouds to flight and brought back the sunshine. nymphs came to push the ships off the rocks, and neptune himself opened a way out of the shallows. then he returned to his chariot, and his white horses carried him lightly across the calm waters. thankful to have saved a few of his ships, all shattered and leaking as they were, Æneas bade the helmsman steer for the nearest land. what was their joy to see within easy reach a quiet harbor closed in by a sheltering island. the entrance was guarded by twin cliffs, and a forest background closed in the scene. once within this shelter the weary vessels needed no anchor to secure them. here at last Æneas and his comrades could stretch their aching limbs on dry land. they kindled a fire of leaves with a flint, and dried their sodden corn for a scanty meal. Æneas now climbed one of the hills to see whether he might catch a glimpse of any of the missing ships. not a sail was in sight, but in the valley below he spied a herd of deer grazing. here was better food for hungry men. drawing an arrow from his quiver, he fitted it to his bow, let fly, and a mighty stag fell to his aim. six others shared its fate, then Æneas returned with his booty and bade his friends make merry with venison and sicilian wine from the ships. as they ate and drank, he tried to hearten the trojans. "endure a little longer," he urged. "think of the perils through which we have passed, remember the dreadful cyclôpes and cruel scylla. despair not now, for one day the memory of past sufferings shall delight your hours of ease. through toils and hardships we are making our way to latium, where the gods have promised us a peaceful home and a new and glorious troy. hold out a little while, and wait for the happy days in store." how horatius held the bridge adapted by alfred j. church king tarquin[ ] and his son lucius (for he only remained to him of the three) fled to lars porsenna, king of clusium, and besought him that he would help them. "suffer not," they said, "that we, who are tuscans by birth, should remain any more in poverty and exile. and take heed also to thyself and thine own kingdom if thou permit this new fashion of driving forth kings to go unpunished. for surely there is that in freedom which men greatly desire, and if they that be kings defend not their dignity as stoutly as others seek to overthrow it, then shall the highest be made even as the lowest, and there shall be an end of kingship, than which there is nothing more honorable under heaven." with these words they persuaded king porsenna, who judging it well for the etrurians that there should be a king at rome, and that king an etrurian by birth, gathered together a great army and came up against rome. but when men heard of his coming, so mighty a city was clusium in those days, and so great the fame of king porsenna, there was such fear as had never been before. nevertheless they were steadfastly purposed to hold out. and first all that were in the country fled into the city, and round about the city they set guards to keep it, part thereof being defended by walls, and part, for so it seemed, being made safe by the river. but here a great peril had well-nigh over-taken the city; for there was a wooden bridge on the river by which the enemy had crossed but for the courage of a certain horatius cocles. the matter fell out in this wise. [footnote : king tarquin had been driven from rome because of his tyranny.] there was a certain hill which men called janiculum on the side of the river, and this hill king porsenna took by a sudden attack. which when horatius saw (for he chanced to have been set to guard the bridge, and saw also how the enemy were running at full speed to the place, and how the romans were fleeing in confusion and threw away their arms as they ran), he cried with a loud voice, "men of rome, it is to no purpose that ye thus leave your post and flee, for if ye leave this bridge behind you for men to pass over, ye shall soon find that ye have more enemies in your city than in janiculum. do ye therefore break it down with axe and fire as best ye can. in the meanwhile i, so far as one man may do, will stay the enemy." and as he spake he ran forward to the farther end of the bridge and made ready to keep the way against the enemy. nevertheless there stood two with him, lartius and herminius by name, men of noble birth both of them and of great renown in arms. so these three for a while stayed the first onset of the enemy; and the men of rome meanwhile brake down the bridge. and when there was but a small part remaining, and they that brake it down called to the three that they should come back, horatius bade lartius and herminius return, but he himself remained on the farther side, turning his eyes full of wrath in threatening fashion on the princes of the etrurians, and crying, "dare ye now to fight with me? or why are ye thus come at the bidding of your master, king porsenna, to rob others of the freedom that ye care not to have for yourselves?" for a while they delayed, looking each man to his neighbor, who should first deal with this champion of the romans. then, for very shame, they all ran forward, and raising a great shout, threw their javelins at him. these all he took upon his shield, nor stood the less firmly in his place on the bridge, from which when they would have thrust him by force, of a sudden the men of rome raised a great shout, for the bridge was now altogether broken down, and fell with a great crash into the river. and as the enemy stayed a while for fear, horatius turned him to the river and said, "o father tiber, i beseech thee this day with all reverence that thou kindly receive this soldier and his arms." and as he spake he leapt with all his arms into the river and swam across to his own people, and though many javelins of the enemy fell about him, he was not one whit hurt. nor did such valor fail to receive due honor from the city. for the citizens set up a statue of horatius in the market-place; and they gave him of the public land so much as he could plow about in one day. also there was this honor paid him, that each citizen took somewhat of his own store and gave it to him, for food was scarce in the city by reason of the siege. how cincinnatus saved rome adapted by alfred j. church it came to pass that the Æquians brake the treaty of peace which they had made with rome, and, taking one gacchus cloelius for their leader, marched into the land of tusculum; and when they had plundered the country there-abouts, and had gathered together much booty, they pitched their camp on mount Ægidus. to them the romans sent three ambassadors, who should complain of the wrong done and seek redress. but when they would have fulfilled their errand, gracchus the Æquin spake, saying, "if ye have any message from the senate of rome, tell it to this oak, for i have other business to do;" for it chanced that there was a great oak that stood hard by, and made a shadow over the general's tent. then one of the ambassadors, as he turned to depart, made reply, "yes, let this sacred oak and all the gods that are in heaven hear how ye have wrongfully broken the treaty of peace; and let them that hear help us also in the day of battle, when we shall avenge on you the laws both of gods and of men that ye set at nought." when the ambassadors had returned to rome the senate commanded that there should be levied two armies; and that minucius the consul should march with the one against the Æquians on mount Ægidus, and that the other should hinder the enemy from their plundering. this levying the tribunes of the commons sought to hinder; and perchance had done so, but there also came well-nigh to the walls of the city a great host of the sabines plundering all the country. thereupon the people willingly offered themselves and there were levied forthwith two great armies. nevertheless when the consul minucius had marched to mount Ægidus, and had pitched his camp not far from the Æquians, he did nought for fear of the enemy, but kept himself within his entrenchments. and when the enemy perceived that he was afraid, growing the bolder for his lack of courage, they drew lines about him, keeping him in on every side. yet before that he was altogether shut up there escaped from his camp five horsemen, that bare tidings to rome how that the consul, together with his army, was besieged. the people were sorely dismayed to hear such tidings; nor, when they cast about for help, saw they any man that might be sufficient for such peril, save only cincinnatus. by common consent, therefore, he was made dictator for six months, a thing that may well be noted by those who hold that nothing is to be accounted of in comparison of riches, and that no man may win great honor or show forth singular virtue unless he be well furnished with wealth. for here in this great peril of the roman people there was no hope of safety but in one who was cultivating with his own hand a little plot of scarcely three acres of ground. for when the messengers of the people came to him they found him plowing, or, as some say, digging a ditch. when they had greeted each other, the messengers said, "may the gods prosper this thing to the roman people and to thee. put on thy robe and hear the words of the people." then said cincinnatus, being not a little astonished, "is all well?" and at the same time he called to his wife racilia that she should bring forth his robe from the cottage. so she brought it forth, and the man wiped from him the dust and the sweat, and clad himself in his robe, and stood before the messengers. these said to him, "the people of rome make thee dictator, and bid thee come forthwith to the city." and at the same time they told how the consul and his army were besieged by the Æquians. so cincinnatus departed to rome; and when he came to the other side of the tiber there met him first his three sons, and next many of his kinsfolk and friends, and after them a numerous company of the nobles. these all conducted him to his house, the lictors, four and twenty in number, marching before him. there was also assembled a very great concourse of the people, fearing much how the dictator might deal with them, for they knew what manner of man he was, and that there was no limit to his power, nor any appeal from him. the next day, before dawn, the dictator came into the market-place, and appointed one lucius tarquinius to be master of the horse. this tarquinius was held by common consent to excel all other men in exercises of war; only, though, being a noble by birth, he should have been among the horsemen, he had served for lack of means, as a foot soldier. this done he called an assembly of the people and commanded that all the shops in the city should be shut; that no man should concern himself with any private business, but all that were of an age to go to the war should be present before sunset in the field of mars, each man having with him provisions of cooked food for five days, and twelve stakes. as for them that were past the age, they should prepare the food while the young men made ready their arms and sought for the stakes. these last they took as they found them, no man hindering them; and when the time appointed by the dictator was come, all were assembled, ready, as occasion might serve, either to march or to give battle. forthwith they set out, the dictator leading the foot soldiers by their legions, and tarquinius the horsemen, and each bidding them that followed make all haste. "we must needs come," they said, "to our journey's end while it is yet night. remember that the consul and his army have been besieged now for three days, and that no man knows what a day or a night may bring forth." the soldiers themselves also were zealous to obey, crying out to the standard-bearers that they should quicken their steps, and to their fellows that they should not lag behind. thus they came at midnight to mount Ædigus, and when they perceived that the enemy was at hand they halted the standards. then the dictator rode forward to see, so far as the darkness would suffer him, how great was the camp of the Æquians and after what fashion it was pitched. this done he commanded that the baggage should be gathered together into a heap, and that the soldiers should stand every man in his own place. after this he compassed about the whole army of the enemy with his own army, and commanded that at a set signal every man should shout, and when they had shouted should dig a trench and set up therein the stakes. this the soldiers did, and the noise of the shouting passed over the camp of the enemy and came into the city, causing therein great joy, even as it caused great fear in the camp. for the romans cried, "these be our countrymen and they bring us help." then said the consul, "we must make no delay. by that shout is signified, not that they are come only, but that they are already dealing with the enemy. doubtless the camp of the Æquians is even now assailed from without. take ye your arms and follow me." so the legion went forth, it being yet night, to the battle, and as they went they shouted, that the dictator might be aware. now the Æquians had set themselves to hinder the making of a ditch and rampart which should shut them in; but when the romans from the camp fell upon them, fearing lest these should make their way through the midst of their camp, they left them that were with cincinnatus to finish their entrenching, and fought with the consul. and when it was now light, lo! they were already shut in, and the romans, having finished their entrenching, began to trouble them. and when the Æquians perceived that the battle was now on either side of them, they could withstand no longer, but sent ambassadors praying for peace, and saying, "ye have prevailed; slay us not, but rather permit us to depart, leaving our arms behind us." then said the dictator, "i care not to have the blood of the Æquians. ye may depart, but ye shall depart passing under the yoke, that ye may thus acknowledge to all men that ye are indeed vanquished." now the yoke is thus made. there are set up in the ground two spears, and over them is bound by ropes a third spear. so the Æquians passed under the yoke. in the camp of the enemy there was found abundance of spoil. this the dictator gave wholly to his own soldiers. "ye were well-nigh a spoil to the enemy," said he to the army of the consul, "therefore ye shall have no share in the spoiling of them. as for thee, minucius, be thou a lieutenant only till thou hast learnt how to bear thyself as a consul." meanwhile at rome there was held a meeting of the senate, at which it was commanded that cincinnatus should enter the city in triumph, his soldiers following him in order of march. before his chariot there were led the generals of the enemy; also the standards were carried in the front; and after these came the army, every man laden with spoil. that day there was great rejoicing in the city, every man setting forth a banquet before his doors in the street. after this, virginius, that had borne false witness against cæso, was found guilty of perjury, and went into exile. and when cincinnatus saw that justice had been done to this evildoer, he resigned his dictatorship, having held it for sixteen days only. heroes of great britain beowulf adapted by h.e. marshall i how beowulf overcame the ogre and the water-witch long ago, there lived in daneland a king, beloved of all, called hrothgar. he was valiant and mighty in war, overcoming all his foes and taking from them much spoil. looking upon his great treasure, king hrothgar said, "i will build me a great hall. it shall be vast and wide, adorned within and without with gold and ivory, with gems and carved work. it shall be a hall of joy and feasting." then king hrothgar called his workmen and gave them commandment to build the hall. they set to work, and becoming each day more fair, the hall was at length finished. it stood upon a height, vast and stately, and as it was adorned with the horns of deer, king hrothgar named it hart hall. the king made a great feast. to it his warriors young and old were called, and he divided his treasure, giving to each rings of gold. and so in the hall there was laughter and song and great merriment. every evening when the shadows fell, and the land grew dark without, the knights and warriors gathered in the hall to feast. and when the feast was over, and the great fire roared upon the hearth, the minstrel took his harp and sang. far over dreary fen and moorland the light glowed cheerfully, and the sound of song and harp awoke the deep silence of the night. within the hall was light and gladness, but without there was wrath and hate. for far on the moor there lived a wicked giant named grendel, prowling at night to see what evil he might do. very terrible was this ogre grendel to look upon. thick black hair hung about his face, and his teeth were long and sharp, like the tusks of an animal. his huge body and great hairy arms had the strength of ten men. he wore no armor, for his skin was tougher than any coat of mail that man or giant might weld. his nails were like steel and sharper than daggers, and by his side there hung a great pouch in which he carried off those whom he was ready to devour. day by day the music of harp and song was a torture to him and made him more and more mad with jealous hate. at length he crept through the darkness to hart hall where the warriors slept after feast and song. arms and armor had been thrown aside, so with ease the ogre slew thirty of the bravest. howling with wicked joy he carried them off and devoured them. the next night, again the wicked one crept stealthily through the darkening moorland until he reached hart hall, stretched forth his hand, and seized the bravest of the warriors. in the morning each man swore that he would not again sleep beneath the roof of the hall. for twelve years it stood thus, no man daring, except in the light of day, to enter it. and now it came to pass that across the sea in far gothland the tale of grendel and his wrath was carried to beowulf the goth, who said he would go to king hrothgar to help him. taking with him fifteen good comrades, he set sail for daneland. when hrothgar was told that beowulf had come to help him, he said, "i knew him when he was yet a lad. his father and his mother have i known. truly he hath sought a friend. i have heard that he is much renowned in war, and hath the strength of thirty men in the grip of his hand. i pray heaven he hath been sent to free us from the horror of grendel. bid beowulf and his warriors to enter." guided by the danish knight, beowulf and his men went into hart hall and stood before the aged hrothgar. after friendly words of greeting beowulf said, "and now will i fight against grendel, bearing neither sword nor shield. with my hands alone will i grapple with the fiend, and foe to foe we will fight for victory." that night beowulf's comrades slept in hart hall. beowulf alone remained awake. out of the mists of the moorland the evil thing strode. loud he laughed as he gazed upon the sleeping warriors. beowulf, watchful and angry, curbed his wrath. grendel seized one of the men, drank his blood, crushed his bones, and swallowed his horrid feast. then beowulf caught the monster and fought till the noise of the contest was as of thunder. the knights awoke and tried to plunge their swords into the hide of grendel, but in vain. by enchantments he had made himself safe. at length the fight came to an end. the sinews in grendel's shoulder burst, the bones cracked. the ogre tore himself free, leaving his arm in beowulf's mighty grip. sobbing forth his death-song, grendel fled till he reached his dwelling in the lake of the water-dragons, and there plunged in. the dark waves closed over him and he sank to his home. loud were the songs of triumph in hart hall, great the rejoicing, for beowulf had made good his boast. he had cleansed the hall of the ogre. a splendid feast was made and much treasure given to beowulf by the king and queen. again did the dane lords sleep in the great hall, but far away in the water-dragons' lake the mother of grendel wept over the dead body of her son, desiring revenge. very terrible to look upon was this water-witch. as the darkness fell she crept across the moorland to hart hall. in she rushed eager for slaughter. a wild cry rang through the hall. the water-witch fled, but in doing so carried off the best beloved of all the king's warriors. quickly was beowulf called and he rode forth to the dark lake. down and down he dived till he came to the cave of the water-witch whom he killed after a desperate struggle. hard by on a couch lay the body of grendel. drawing his sword he smote off the ogre's head. swimming up with it he reached the surface and sprang to land, and was greeted by his faithful thanes. four of them were needed to carry the huge head back to hart hall. his task being done beowulf made haste to return to his own land that he might seek his own king, hygelac, and lay before him the treasures that hrothgar had given him. with gracious words the old king thanked the young warrior, and bade him to come again right speedily. hygelac listened with wonder and delight to all that had happened in daneland and graciously received the splendid gifts. for many years beowulf lived beloved of all, and when it befell that hygelac died in battle, the broad realm of gothland was given unto beowulf to rule. and there for fifty years he reigned a well-loved king. ii how the fire dragon warred with the goth folk and now when many years had come and gone and the realm had long time been at peace, sorrow came upon the people of the goths. and thus it was that the evil came. it fell upon a time that a slave by his misdeeds roused his master's wrath, and when his lord would have punished him he fled in terror. and as he fled trembling to hide himself, he came by chance into a great cave. there the slave hid, thankful for refuge. but soon he had cause to tremble in worse fear than before, for in the darkness of the cave he saw that a fearful dragon lay asleep. then as the slave gazed in terror at the awful beast, he saw that it lay guarding a mighty treasure. never had he seen such a mass of wealth. swords and armor inlaid with gold, cups and vessels of gold and silver set with precious stones, rings and bracelets lay piled around in glittering heaps. for hundreds of years this treasure had lain there in secret. a great prince had buried it in sorrow for his dead warriors. in his land there had been much fighting until he alone of all his people was left. then in bitter grief he gathered all his treasure and hid it in this cave. "take, o earth," he cried, "what the heroes might not keep. lo! good men and true once before earned it from thee. now a warlike death hath taken away every man of my people. there is none now to bear the sword or receive the cup. there is no more joy in the battle-field or in the hall of peace. so here shall the gold-adorned helmet molder, here the coat of mail rust and the wine-cup lie empty." thus the sad prince mourned. beside his treasure he sat weeping both day and night until death took him also, and of all his people there was none left. so the treasure lay hidden and secret for many a day. then upon a time it happened that a great dragon, fiery-eyed and fearful, as it flew by night and prowled seeking mischief, came upon the buried hoard. as men well know, a dragon ever loveth gold. so to guard his new-found wealth lest any should come to rob him of it, he laid him down there and the cave became his dwelling. thus for three hundred years he lay gloating over his treasure, no man disturbing him. but now at length it chanced that the fleeing slave lighted upon the hoard. his eyes were dazzled by the shining heap. upon it lay a cup of gold, wondrously chased and adorned. "if i can but gain that cup," said the slave to himself, "i will return with it to my master, and for the sake of the gold he will surely forgive me." so while the dragon slept, trembling and fearful the slave crept nearer and nearer to the glittering mass. when he came quite near he reached forth his hand and seized the cup. then with it he fled back to his master. it befell then as the slave had foreseen. for the sake of the wondrous cup his misdeeds were forgiven him. but when the dragon awoke his fury was great. well knew he that mortal man had trod his cave and stolen of his hoard. round and round about he sniffed and searched until he discovered the footprints of his foe. eagerly then all over the ground he sought to find the man who, while he slept, had done him this ill. hot and fierce of mood he went backwards and forwards round about his treasure-heaps. all within the cave he searched in vain. then coming forth he searched without. all round the hill in which his cave was he prowled, but no man could he find, nor in all the wilds around was there any man. again the old dragon returned, again he searched among his treasure-heap for the precious cup. nowhere was it to be found. it was too surely gone. but the dragon, as well as loving gold, loved war. so now in angry mood he lay couched in his lair. scarce could he wait until darkness fell, such was his wrath. with fire he was resolved to repay the loss of his dear drinking-cup. at last, to the joy of the great winged beast, the sun sank. then forth from his cave he came, flaming fire. spreading his mighty wings, he flew through the air until he came to the houses of men. then spitting forth flame, he set fire to many a happy homestead. wherever the lightning of his tongue struck, there fire flamed forth, until where the fair homes of men had been there was naught but blackened ruins. here and there, this way and that, through all the land he sped, and wherever he passed fire flamed aloft. the warfare of the dragon was seen from far. the malice of the worm was known from north to south, from east to west. all men knew how the fearful foe hated and ruined the goth folk. then having worked mischief and desolation all night through, the fire-dragon turned back; to his secret cave he slunk again ere break of day. behind him he left the land wasted and desolate. the dragon had no fear of the revenge of man. in his fiery warfare he trusted to find shelter in his hill, and in his secret cave. but in that trust he was misled. speedily to king beowulf were the tidings of the dragon and his spoiling carried. for alas! even his own fair palace was wrapped in flame. before his eyes he saw the fiery tongues lick up his treasures. even the gift-seat of the goths melted in fire. then was the good king sorrowful. his heart boiled within him with angry thoughts. the fire-dragon had utterly destroyed the pleasant homes of his people. for this the war-prince greatly desired to punish him. therefore did beowulf command that a great shield should be made for him, all of iron. he knew well that a shield of wood could not help him in this need. wood against fire! nay, that were useless. his shield must be all of iron. too proud, too, was beowulf, the hero of old time, to seek the winged beast with a troop of soldiers. not thus would he overcome him. he feared not for himself, nor did he dread the dragon's war-craft. for with his valor and his skill beowulf had succeeded many a time. he had been victorious in many a tumult of battle since that day when a young man and a warrior prosperous in victory, he had cleansed hart hall by grappling with grendel and his kin. and now when the great iron shield was ready, he chose eleven of his best thanes and set out to seek the dragon. very wrathful was the old king, very desirous that death should take his fiery foe. he hoped, too, to win the great treasure of gold which the fell beast guarded. for already beowulf had learned whence the feud arose, whence came the anger which had been so hurtful to his people. and the precious cup, the cause of all the quarrel, had been brought to him. with the band of warriors went the slave who had stolen the cup. he it was who must be their guide to the cave, for he alone of all men living knew the way thither. loth he was to be their guide. but captive and bound he was forced to lead the way over the plain to the dragon's hill. unwillingly he went with lagging footsteps until at length he came to the cave hard by the seashore. there by the sounding waves lay the savage guardian of the treasure. ready for war and fierce was he. it was no easy battle that was there prepared for any man, brave though he might be. and now on the rocky point above the sea king beowulf sat himself down. here he would bid farewell to all his thanes ere he began the combat. for what man might tell which from that fight should come forth victorious? beowulf's mind was sad. he was now old. his hair was white, his face was wrinkled and gray. but still his arm was strong as that of a young man. yet something within him warned him that death was not far off. so upon the rocky point he sat and bade farewell to his dear comrades. "in my youth," said the aged king, "many battles have i dared, and yet must i, the guardian of my people, though i be full of years, seek still another feud. and again will i win glory if the wicked spoiler of my land will but come forth from his lair." much he spoke. with loving words he bade farewell to each one of his men, greeting his dear comrades for the last time. "i would not bear a sword or weapon against the winged beast," he said at length, "if i knew how else i might grapple with the wretch, as of old i did with grendel. but i ween this war-fire is hot, fierce, and poisonous. therefore i have clad me in a coat of mail, and bear this shield all of iron. i will not flee a single step from the guardian of the treasure. but to us upon this rampart it shall be as fate will. "now let me make no more vaunting speech. ready to fight am i. let me forth against the winged beast. await ye here on the mount, clad in your coats of mail, your arms ready. abide ye here until ye see which of us twain in safety cometh forth from the clash of battle. "it is no enterprise for you, or for any common man. it is mine alone. alone i needs must go against the wretch and prove myself a warrior. i must with courage win the gold, or else deadly, baleful war shall fiercely snatch me, your lord, from life." then beowulf arose. he was all clad in shining armor, his gold-decked helmet was upon his head, and taking his shield in hand he strode under the stony cliffs towards the cavern's mouth. in the strength of his single arm he trusted against the fiery dragon. no enterprise this for a coward. iii how beowulf overcame the dragon beowulf left his comrades upon the rocky point jutting out into the sea, and alone he strode onward until he spied a great stone arch. from beneath the arch, from out the hillside, flowed a stream seething with fierce, hot fire. in this way the dragon guarded his lair, for it was impossible to pass such a barrier unhurt. so upon the edge of this burning river beowulf stood and called aloud in anger. stout of heart and wroth against the winged beast was he. the king's voice echoed like a war-cry through the cavern. the dragon heard it and was aroused to fresh hate of man. for the guardian of the treasure-hoard knew well the sound of mortal voice. now was there no long pause ere battle raged. first from out the cavern flamed forth the breath of the winged beast. hot sweat of battle rose from out the rock. the earth shook and growling thunder trembled through the air. the dragon, ringed around with many-colored scales, was now hot for battle, and, as the hideous beast crept forth, beowulf raised his mighty shield and rushed against him. already the king had drawn his sword. it was an ancient heirloom, keen of edge and bright. many a time it had been dyed in blood; many a time it had won glory and victory. but ere they closed, the mighty foes paused. each knew the hate and deadly power of the other. the mighty prince, firm and watchful, stood guarded by his shield. the dragon, crouching as in ambush, awaited him. then suddenly like a flaming arch the dragon bent and towered, and dashed upon the lord of the goths. up swung the arm of the hero, and dealt a mighty blow to the grisly, many-colored beast. but the famous sword was all too weak against such a foe. the edge turned and bit less strongly than its great king had need, for he was sore pressed. his shield, too, proved no strong shelter from the wrathful dragon. the warlike blow made greater still the anger of the fiery foe. now he belched forth flaming fire. all around fierce lightnings darted. beowulf no longer hoped for glorious victory. his sword had failed him. the edge was turned and blunted upon the scaly foe. he had never thought the famous steel would so ill serve him. yet he fought on ready to lose his life in such good contest. again the battle paused, again the king and dragon closed in fight. the dragon-guardian of the treasure had renewed his courage. his heart heaved and boiled with fire, and fresh strength breathed from him. beowulf was wrapped in flame. dire was his need. yet of all his comrades none came near to help. nay, as they watched the conflict they were filled with base fear, and fled to the wood hard by for refuge. only one among them sorrowed for his master, and as he watched his heart was wrung with grief. wiglaf was this knight called, and he was beowulf's kinsman. now when he saw his liege lord hard pressed in battle he remembered all the favors beowulf had heaped upon him. he remembered all the honors and the wealth which he owed to his king. then could he no longer be still. shield and spear he seized, but ere he sped to aid his king he turned to his comrades. "when our lord and king gave us swords and armor," he cried, "did we not promise to follow him in battle whenever he had need? when he of his own will chose us for this expedition he reminded us of our fame. he said he knew us to be good warriors, bold helmet-wearers. and although indeed our liege lord thought to do this work of valor alone, without us, because more than any man he hath done glorious and rash deeds, lo! now is the day come that hath need of strength and of good warriors. come, let us go to him. let us help our chieftain although the grim terror of fire be hot. "heaven knoweth i would rather the flame would blast my body than his who gave me gold. it seemeth not fitting to me that we should bear back our shields to our homes unless we may first fell the foe and defend the life of our king. nay, it is not of the old custom of the goths that the king alone should suffer, that he alone should sink in battle. our lord should be repaid for his gifts to us, and so he shall be by me even if death take us twain." but none would hearken to wiglaf. so alone he sped through the deadly smoke and flame, till to his master's side he came offering aid. "my lord beowulf," he cried, "fight on as thou didst in thy youth-time. erstwhile didst thou say that thou wouldst not let thy greatness sink so long as life lasteth. defend thou thy life with all might. i will support thee to the utmost." when the dragon heard these words his fury was doubled. the fell wicked beast came on again belching forth fire, such was his hatred of men. the flame-waves caught wiglaf's shield, for it was but of wood. it was burned utterly, so that only the stud of steel remained. his coat of mail alone was not enough to guard the young warrior from the fiery enemy. but right valiantly he went on fighting beneath the shelter of beowulf's shield now that his own was consumed to ashes by the flames. then again the warlike king called to mind his ancient glories, again he struck with main strength with his good sword upon the monstrous head. hate sped the blow. but alas! as it descended the famous sword nægling snapped asunder. beowulf's sword had failed him in the conflict, although it was an old and well-wrought blade. to him it was not granted that weapons should help him in battle. the hand that swung the sword was too strong. his might overtaxed every blade however wondrously the smith had welded it. and now a third time the fell fire-dragon was roused to wrath. he rushed upon the king. hot, and fiercely grim the great beast seized beowulf's neck in his horrid teeth. the hero's life-blood gushed forth, the crimson stream darkly dyed his bright armor. then in the great king's need his warrior showed skill and courage. heeding not the flames from the awful mouth, wiglaf struck the dragon below the neck. his hand was burned with the fire, but his sword dived deep into the monster's body and from that moment the flames began to abate. the horrid teeth relaxed their hold, and beowulf, quickly recovering himself, drew his deadly knife. battle-sharp and keen it was, and with it the hero gashed the dragon right in the middle. the foe was conquered. glowing in death he fell. they twain had destroyed the winged beast. such should a warrior be, such a thane in need. to the king it was a victorious moment. it was the crown of all his deeds. then began the wound which the fire-dragon had wrought him to burn and to swell. beowulf soon found that baleful poison boiled in his heart. well knew he that the end was nigh. lost in deep thought he sat upon the mound and gazed wondering at the cave. pillared and arched with stone-work it was within, wrought by giants and dwarfs of old time. and to him came wiglaf his dear warrior and tenderly bathed his wound with water. then spake beowulf, in spite of his deadly wound he spake, and all his words were of the ending of his life, for he knew that his days of joy upon this earth were past. "had a son been granted to me, to him i should have left my war-garments. fifty years have i ruled this people, and there has been no king of all the nations round who durst meet me in battle. i have known joys and sorrows, but no man have i betrayed, nor many false oaths have i sworn. for all this may i rejoice, though i be now sick with mortal wounds. the ruler of men may not upbraid me with treachery or murder of kinsmen when my soul shall depart from its body. "but now, dear wiglaf, go thou quickly to the hoard of gold which lieth under the hoary rock. the dragon lieth dead; now sleepeth he for ever, sorely wounded and bereft of his treasure. then haste thee, wiglaf, for i would see the ancient wealth, the gold treasure, the jewels, the curious gems. haste thee to bring it hither; then after that i have seen it, i shall the more contentedly give up my life and the kingship that i so long have held." quickly wiglaf obeyed his wounded lord. into the dark cave he descended, and there outspread before him was a wondrous sight. treasure of jewels, many glittering and golden, lay upon the ground. wondrous vessels of old time with broken ornaments were scattered round. here, too, lay old and rusty helmets, mingled with bracelets and collars cunningly wrought. upon the walls hung golden flags. from one a light shone forth by which the whole cavern was made clear. and all within was silent. no sign was there of any guardian, for without lay the dragon, sleeping death's sleep. quickly wiglaf gathered of the treasures all that he could carry. dishes and cups he took, a golden ensign and a sword curiously wrought. in haste he returned, for he knew not if he should find his lord in life where he had left him. and when wiglaf came again to where beowulf sat he poured the treasure at his feet. but he found his lord in a deep swoon. again the brave warrior bathed beowulf's wound and laved the stricken countenance of his lord, until once more he came to himself. then spake the king: "for this treasure i give thanks to the lord of all. not in vain have i given my life, for it shall be of great good to my people in need. and now leave me, for on this earth longer i may not stay. say to my warriors that they shall raise a mound upon the rocky point which jutteth seaward. high shall it stand as a memorial to my people. let it soar upward so that they who steer their slender barks over the tossing waves shall call it beowulf's mound." the king then took from his neck the golden collar. to wiglaf, his young thane and kinsman, he gave it. he gave also his helmet adorned with gold, his ring and coat of mail, and bade the warrior use them well. "thou art the last of our race," he said. "fate hath swept away all my kinsmen, all the mighty earls. now i too must follow them." that was the last word of the aged king. from his bosom the soul fled to seek the dwellings of the just. at wiglaf's feet he lay quiet and still. how king arthur conquered rome adapted by e. edwardson king arthur had just brought a great war to an end, and in honor of his victory he was holding a royal feast with the kings and princes that were his vassals and all the knights of the round table, when twelve grave and ancient men entered the banquet-hall where he sat at table. they bore each an olive-branch in his hand, to signify that they were ambassadors from lucius the emperor of rome, and after they had reverently made obeisance to king arthur, they delivered their message as follows: "the high and mighty emperor lucius sends you greeting, o king of britain, and he commands you to acknowledge him as your lord, and to pay the tribute which is due from this realm, and which, it is recorded, was paid by your father and others who came before him. yet you rebelliously withhold it and keep it back, in defiance of the statutes and decrees made by the first emperor of rome, the noble julius caesar, who conquered this country. and be assured that if you disobey this command, the emperor lucius will come in his might and make war against you and your kingdom, and will inflict upon you a chastisement that shall serve for ever as a warning to all kings and princes not to withhold the tribute due to that noble empire to which belongs dominion over the whole world." thus they spoke, and king arthur having heard their request, bade them withdraw, saying that he would take the advice of his counselors before giving them his answer; but some of the younger knights that were in the hall declared that it was a disgrace to all who were at the feast that such language should be used to the king in their hearing, and they would fain have fallen upon the ambassadors and slain them. but king arthur, hearing their murmurs, declared that any insult or wrong suffered by the ambassadors should be punished with death. then he sent them to their quarters, escorted by one of his knights, who was ordered to provide them with whatever they wanted. "let nothing be grudged these men of rome," said the king "though the demand they make is an affront alike to me and to you who are of my court. i should be dishonored were the ambassadors not treated with the respect due to them, seeing that they are great lords in their own land." as soon as the ambassadors had left the hall, king arthur asked his knights and lords what was their advice and counsel in the matter. the first to give his opinion was sir cador of cornwall. "sir," said sir cador, "the message brought by these lords is most welcome to me. we have spent full many days at rest and in idleness, and now my hope is that you will wage war against the romans. in that war we shall, i have little doubt, win great honor." "i am sure," answered king arthur, "that this affair is welcome to you, but i seek, above all, your aid in devising a grave and suitable answer to the demand they have made. and let no man doubt that i hold that demand to be a grievous insult. the tribute they claim, in my opinion, not only is not due, but cannot be due; for more than one british knight having been emperor of rome, it is, i hold, the duty of rome to acknowledge the lordship of britain, rather than of britain to acknowledge that of rome. what think ye?" "sir," replied king anguish of scotland, "you ought of right to be lord over all other kings, for throughout christendom there is neither knight nor man of high estate worthy to be compared with you. my advice is, never yield to the romans. when they reigned over us, they oppressed our principal men, and laid heavy and extortionate burdens upon the land. for that cause i, standing here, solemnly vow vengeance upon them for the evil they then did, and, to support you in your quarrel, i will at my own cost furnish twenty thousand good fighting men. this force i will command in person, and i will bring it to your aid whenever you choose to summon me." in like manner, the king of little britain, as brittany was called in those days, undertook to furnish thirty thousand men; and all the others who were present agreed to fight on king arthur's side, and to assist him to the utmost of their power. so he, having thanked them heartily for the courage and good will towards him that they displayed, had the ambassadors summoned back into the banquet-hall and addressed them thus: "i would have you go back to him who sent you, and i would have you say to him that i will pay no heed to any orders or demands that may be brought from him; and as for tribute so far am i from allowing that there is any tribute due from me or to any other man or prince upon earth, be he heathen or christian, that i claim lordship over the empire he now has. and say further to him, that i have determined and resolved to go to rome with my army, to take possession of the empire and to subdue all that behave themselves rebelliously. therefore, let your master and all the other men of rome get themselves ready to do homage to me, and to acknowledge me as their emperor and governor, and let them know that if they refuse, they will be punished befittingly." then king arthur bade his treasurer give handsome gifts to the ambassadors, and repay in full the cost of their journey, and he assigned sir cador as their escort to see them safely out of the country. so they took their leave, and going to sandwich, sailed thence, and passed through flanders and germany over the alps into italy to the court of the emperor. when the emperor heard what message king arthur had entrusted to them, and understood that this was indeed the reply to his demand for tribute, he was grievously angry. "of truth," he said, "i never doubted that king arthur would obey my commands and submit, as it befits him and all other kings to submit themselves to me." "sir," answered one of the ambassadors, "i beseech you not to speak thus boastfully. in very truth my companions and myself were dismayed when we saw king arthur face to face, and my fear is that you have made a rod for your own back, for his intention is to become lord over this empire. his threats, i warn you, are no idle talk. he is a very different man from what you hoped he was, and his court is the most noble upon earth. never had any one of us beheld such magnificence as we beheld there on new year's day, when nine kings, besides other princes, lords, and knights, sat at table with king arthur. nor do i believe that there could be found anywhere another band of knights worthy to be matched with the knights who sit at his round table, nor a more manly man than the king himself. and since i verily believe his ambition is such that he would not be satisfied though he had conquered the whole world, my advice is that you have careful watch kept upon the borders of your lands and upon the ways over the mountains, for i am certain that you would do wisely to guard yourself well against him." "well," answered lucius, "my intention is before easter to cross the alps and to descend into france and seize the lands that belong to him there. with me i shall take my mighty warriors from tuscany and lombardy, and all the subjects and allies i have shall be summoned to my aid." then the emperor picked out wise old knights and sent them east and west throughout asia, africa, and europe, to summon his allies from turkey, syria, portugal, and the other distant lands that were subject to him; and in the meantime he assembled his forces from rome, and from the countries between rome and flanders, and he collected together as his bodyguard fifty giants who were sons of evil spirits. putting himself at the head of this mighty host, lucius departed from rome, and marching through savoy, crossed the mountains, meaning to lay waste the lands king arthur had conquered. he besieged and took a castle near cologne, which he garrisoned with saracens and unbelievers. then he passed on, plundering and pillaging the country, till he entered burgundy, where he halted to collect the whole of his army before invading and laying utterly waste the land of little britain. in the meantime preparations were being made on the side of the british. a parliament was held at york, and there it was resolved that all the navy of the kingdom should be got ready and assembled within fifteen days at sandwich. sir baudewaine of britain, and sir constantine, the son of sir cador of cornwall, were chosen by the king to be his viceroys during his absence; and to them, in the presence of all his lords, he confided the care of his kingdom, and he also entrusted to them queen guinevere. she, when the time drew near for the departure of her lord, wept and lamented so piteously that at last she swooned, and was carried away to her chamber by the ladies that attended upon her. then king arthur mounted his horse, and, putting himself at the head of his troops, made proclamation in a loud voice that should death befall him during this expedition, his wish was that sir constantine, who was his heir by blood, should succeed to his possessions and to his throne. so king arthur and his army came to sandwich, where they found awaiting them a great multitude of galleys and vessels of all sorts, on which they embarked and set out to sea. that night, as the king lay asleep in his cabin, he dreamed a marvelous dream. a dreadful dragon appeared, flying out of the west. its head was all enameled with azure enamel. its wings and its claws glistened like gold. its feet were black as jet. its body was sheathed in scales that shone as armor shines after it has been polished, and it had a very great and remarkable tail. then there came a cloud out of the east. the grimmest beast man ever saw rode upon this cloud; it was a wild boar, roaring and growling so hideously that it was terrifying to hear it. the dragon flew down the wind like a falcon and struck at this boar; but it defended itself with its grisly tusks, and wounded the dragon in the breast so severely that its blood, pouring into the sea in torrents, made all the waves red. then the dragon turned and flew away, and having mounted up to a great height, again swooped down upon the boar and fastened its claws in the beast's back. the boar struggled, and raged, and writhed, but all in vain. it was at the mercy of its foe, and so merciless was the dragon that it never loosened its grip till it had torn the boar limb from limb and bone from bone, and scattered it piecemeal upon the surface of the sea. then king arthur awoke, and, starting up in great dismay, sent for a wise man that was on board the ship and bade him interpret the dream. "sir," the wise man said, "the dragon which you saw in your dream surely betokens your own self, its golden wings signifying the countries you have won with your sword, and its marvelous tail the knights of the round table. as for the boar that was slain, that may betoken either a tyrant that torments his people, or some hideous and abominable giant with whom you are about to fight. and the dream foreshadows victory for you. therefore, though it was very dreadful, you should take comfort from it and be of a good heart." before long the sailors sighted land, and the army disembarked at a port in flanders, where many great lords were awaiting the arrival of king arthur, as had been ordained. and to him, soon after he had arrived, there came a husbandman bringing grievous news. a monstrous giant had for years infested the country on the borders of little britain, and had slain many people and devoured such numbers of children that there were none left for him to prey upon. and being in search of victims, and coming upon the duchess of little britain as she rode with her knights, he had laid hands upon her and carried her off to his den in a mountain. five hundred men that followed the duchess could not rescue her, but they heard such heartrending cries and shrieks that they had little doubt she had been put to death. "now," said the husbandman, "as you are a great and noble king and a valiant conqueror, and as this lady was wife to sir howel, who is your own cousin, take pity on her and on all of us, and avenge us upon this vile giant." "alas," king arthur replied, "this is a grievous and an evil matter. i would give all my kingdom to have been at hand, so that i might have saved that fair lady." then he asked the husbandman whether he could show him the place where the giant would be found, and the man said that was easy to do, for there were always two fires burning outside the den he haunted. in that den, the husbandman believed, was stored more treasure than the whole realm of france contained. then the king took sir kay and sir bedivere apart privately into his tent, and bade them secretly get ready their horses and armor, and his own, for it was his intention that night, after evensong, to set out on a pilgrimage to st. michael's mount with them, and nobody besides them was to accompany him. so when evening came, the king, and sir kay, and sir bedivere armed themselves, and taking their horses, rode as fast as they could to the foot of st. michael's mount. there the king alighted and bade his knights stay where they were, while he himself ascended the mount. he went up the hillside till he came to a huge fire. close to it was a newly made grave, by which was sitting a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and making great lamentation. king arthur saluted her courteously, and asked for whom she was weeping. she prayed him to speak softly, for "yonder," said she, "is a monstrous giant that will come and destroy you should your voice reach his ears. luckless wretch, what brings you to this mountain?" asked the widow. "fifty such knights as you could not hold their ground against the monster." "lady," he replied, "the mighty conqueror king arthur has sent me as his ambassador to this giant, to inquire why he ventures thus to misuse and maltreat the people of the land." "a useless embassy in very truth!" she said. "little does he care for king arthur, or for any other man. not many days have passed since he murdered the fairest lady in the world, the wife of sir howel of little britain; and had you brought with you king arthur's own wife, queen guinevere, he would not be afraid to murder her. yet, if you must needs speak with him, you will find him yonder over the crest of the hill." "this is a fearful warning you give me," said the king. "yet none the less, believe me, will i accomplish the task that has been allotted me." having climbed up to the crest of the hill, king arthur looked down, and close below him he saw the giant basking at his ease by the side of a great fire. "thou villain!" cried the king--"thou villain! short shall be thy life and shameful shall be thy death. rise and defend yourself. my sword shall avenge that fair duchess whom you murdered." starting from the ground, the giant snatched up his great iron club, and aiming a swinging blow at king arthur's head, swept the crest off his helmet. then the king flew at him, and they wrestled and wrestled till they fell, and as they struggled on the ground king arthur again and again smote the giant with his dagger, and they rolled and tumbled down the hill till they reached the sea-beach at its foot, where sir kay and sir bedivere were waiting their lord's return. rushing to his aid, the two knights at once set their master free, for they found that the giant, in whose arms he was locked, was already dead. then king arthur sent sir kay and sir bedivere up the hill to fetch the sword and shield that he had let fall and left there, and also the giant's iron club and cloak, and he told them they might keep whatever treasure they found in his den, for he desired nothing besides the club and the cloak. so they went and did as they were bidden, and brought away as much treasure as they desired. when the news of the oppressor's death was spread abroad, the people came in throngs to thank the king, who had delivered them; but he bade them rather give thanks to heaven. then, having distributed among them the treasure his knights had not needed, and having commanded sir howel to build upon the hill which the giant had haunted a chapel in honor of st. michael, he returned to his army, and led it into the country of champagne, where he pitched his camp in a valley. that evening two men, of whom one was the marshal of france, came into the pavilion where king arthur sat at table. they brought news that the emperor was in burgundy, burning and sacking towns and villages, so that, unless king arthur came quickly to their succor, the men of those parts would be forced to surrender themselves and their goods to rome. hearing this, king arthur summoned four of his knights--sir gawaine, sir bors, sir lionel, and sir badouine--and ordered them to go with all speed to the emperor's camp, and all upon him either to leave the land at once or make ready for battle, since king arthur would not suffer the people to be harried any longer. these four knights, accordingly, rode off with their followers, and before very long they came to a meadow, where, pitched by the side of a stream, they saw many stately tents, and in the middle of them one which, it was plain, must be the emperor's, for above it floated a banner on which was an eagle. then they halted and took counsel what it would be best to do, and it was agreed that the rest of the party should remain in ambush in the wood while sir gawaine and sir bors delivered the message they brought. having heard it, the emperor lucius said they had better return and advise king arthur to make preparations for being subdued by rome and losing all his possessions. to this taunt sir gawaine and sir bors made angry replies, whereupon sir gainus, a knight who was near of kin to the emperor, laughed, and said that british knights behaved as if the whole world rested on their shoulders. sir gawaine was infuriated beyond all measure by these words, and he and sir bors fled as fast as their horses could put legs to the ground, dashing headlong through woods and across streams, till they came to the spot where they had left their comrades in ambush. the romans followed in hot pursuit, and pressed them hard all the way. one knight, indeed, had almost overtaken them, when sir bors turned and ran him through with his spear. then sir lionel and sir badouine came to their assistance, and there was a great and fierce encounter, and such was the bravery of the british that they routed the romans and chased them right up to their tents. there the enemy made a stand, and sir bors was taken prisoner; but sir gawaine, drawing his good sword, vowed that he would either rescue his comrade or never look king arthur in the face again, and falling upon the men that had captured sir bors, he delivered him out of their hands. then the fight waxed hotter and hotter, and the british knights were in such jeopardy that sir gawaine dispatched a messenger to bring him help as quickly as it could be sent, for he was wounded and sorely hurt. king arthur, having received the message, instantly mustered his army; but before he could set out, into the camp rode sir gawaine and his companions, bringing with them many prisoners. and the only one of the band who had suffered any hurt was sir gawaine, whom the king consoled as best he could, bidding his surgeon at once attend to his wounds. thus ended the first battle between the britons and the romans. that night there was great rejoicing in the camp of king arthur; and on the next day all the prisoners were sent to paris, with sir launcelot du lake and sir cador, and many other knights to guard them. on the way, passing through a wood, they were beset by a force the emperor lucius had placed there in ambush. then sir launcelot, though the enemy had six men for every one he had with him, fought with such fury that no one could stand up against him; and at last, in dread of his prowess and might, the romans and their allies the saracens turned and fled as though they had been sheep and sir launcelot a wolf or a lion. but the skirmish had lasted so long that tidings of it had reached king arthur, who arrayed himself and hurried to the aid of his knights. finding them already victorious, he embraced them one by one, saying that they were indeed worthy of whatever honors had been granted them in the past, and that no other king had ever had such noble knights as he had. to this sir cador answered that they might one and all claim at least the merit of not having deserted their posts, but that the honor of the day belonged to sir launcelot, for it passed man's wit to describe all the feats of arms he had performed. then sir cador told the king that certain of his knights were slain, and who they were, whereupon king arthur wept bitterly. "truly," he said, "your valor nearly was the destruction of you all. yet you would not have been disgraced in my eyes had you retreated. to me it seems a rash and foolhardy thing for knights to stand their ground when they find themselves overmatched." "nay," replied sir launcelot, "i think otherwise; for a knight who has once been put to shame may never recover the honor he has forfeited." there was among the romans who escaped from that battle a senator. he went to the emperor lucius and said, "sir, my advice is that you withdraw your army, for this day has proved that grievous blows are all we shall win here. there is not one of king arthur's knights that has not proved himself worth a hundred of ours." "alas," cried lucius, "that is coward's talk and to hear it grieves me more than all the losses i have sustained this day." then he ordered one of his most trusty allies to take a great force and advance as fast as he possibly could, the emperor himself intending to follow in all haste. warning of this having been brought secretly to the british camp, king arthur sent part of his forces to sessoigne to occupy the towns and castles before the romans could reach him. the rest he posted up and down the country, so as to cut off every way by which the enemy might escape. before long the emperor entered the valley of sessoigne, and found himself face to face with king arthur's men, drawn up in battle array. seeing that retreat was impossible--for he was hemmed in by his enemies, and had either to fight his way through them or surrender--he made an oration to his followers, praying them to quit themselves like men that day, and to remember that to allow the britons to hold their ground would bring disgrace upon rome, the mistress of the world. then, at the emperor's command, his trumpeters sounded their trumpets so defiantly that the very earth trembled and shook; and the two hosts joined battle, rushing at one another with mighty shouts. many knights fought nobly that day, but none more nobly than king arthur. riding up and down the battle-field, he exhorted his knights to bear themselves bravely; and wherever the fray was thickest, and his people most sorely pressed, he dashed to the rescue and hewed down the romans with his good sword excalibur. among those he slew was a marvelous great giant called galapus. first of all, king arthur smote off this giant's legs by the knees, saying that made him a more convenient size to deal with, and then he smote off his head. such was the hugeness of the body of galapus, that, as it fell, it crushed six saracens to death. but though king arthur fought thus fiercely, and sir gawaine and all the other knights of the round table did nobly, the host of their enemies was so great that it seemed as if the battle would never come to an end, the britons having the advantage at one moment and the romans at another. now, among the romans, no man fought more bravely than the emperor lucius. king arthur, spying the marvelous feats of arms he performed, rode up and challenged him to a single combat. they exchanged many a mighty blow, and at last lucius struck king arthur across the face, and inflicted a grievous wound. feeling the smart of it, king arthur dealt back such a stroke that his sword excalibur clove the emperor's helmet in half, and splitting his skull, passed right down to his breast-bone. thus lucius, the emperor of the romans, lost his life; and when it was known that he was slain, his whole army turned and fled, and king arthur and his knights chased them, slaying all they could overtake. of the host that followed lucius, more than a hundred thousand men fell that day. king arthur, after he had won the great battle in which the emperor lucius was slain, marched into lorraine, and so on through brabant and flanders into germany, and across the mountains into lombardy, and thence into tuscany, and at last came to rome, and on christmas day he was crowned emperor by the pope with great state and solemnity. and he stayed in rome a little while, setting in order the affairs of his possession, and distributing among his knights posts of honor and dignity, and also great estates, as rewards for their services. after these affairs had been duly arranged, all the british lords and knights assembled in the presence of the king, and said to him: "noble emperor, now that, heaven be thanked for it, this great war is over, and your enemies so utterly vanquished that henceforward, as we believe, no man, however great or mighty he may be, will dare to stand up against you, we beseech you to grant us leave to return to our wives and our homes, that there we may rest ourselves." this request king arthur granted, saying that it would be wise, seeing they had met with such good fortune so far, to be content with it and to return home. also he gave orders that there should be no plundering or pillaging of the country through which they had to pass on their way back, but that they should, on pain of death, pay the full price for victuals or whatever else they took. so king arthur and his host set off from rome and came over the sea and landed at sandwich, where queen guinevere came to meet her lord. and at sandwich and throughout the land there were great festivities, and noble gifts were presented to the king; for his people rejoiced mightily both because he had returned safely home, and because of the great victories he had achieved. sir galahad and the sacred cup adapted by mary macgregor "my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure," sang galahad gladly. he was only a boy, but he had just been made a knight by sir lancelot, and the old abbey, where he had lived all his life, rang with the echo of his song. sir lancelot heard the boy's clear voice singing in triumph. as he stopped to listen, he caught the words, "my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure," and the great knight wished he were a boy again, and could sing that song too. [illustration: sir galahad.] twelve nuns lived in the quiet abbey, and they had taught galahad lovingly and carefully, ever since he had come to them as a beautiful little child. and the boy had dwelt happily with them there in the still old abbey, and he would be sorry to leave them, but he was a knight now. he would fight for the king he reverenced so greatly, and for the country he loved so well. yet when sir lancelot left the abbey the next day, galahad did not go with him. he would stay in his old home a little longer, he thought. he would not grieve the nuns by a hurried farewell. sir lancelot left the abbey alone, but as he rode along he met two knights, and together they reached camelot, where the king was holding a great festival. king arthur welcomed sir lancelot and the two knights. "now all the seats at our table will be filled," he said gladly. for it pleased the king when the circle of his knights was unbroken. then all the king's household went to service at the minster, and when they came back to the palace they saw a strange sight. in the dining-hall the round table at which the king and his knights always sat seemed strangely bright. the king looked more closely, and saw that at one place on this round table were large letters. and he read, "this is the seat of sir galahad, the pure-hearted." but only sir lancelot knew that sir galahad was the boy-knight he had left behind him in the quiet old abbey. "we will cover the letters till the knight of the pure heart comes," said sir lancelot; and he took silk and laid it over the glittering letters. then as they sat down to table they were disturbed by sir kay, the steward of the king's kitchen. "you do not sit down to eat at this festival," sir kay reminded the king, "till you have seen or heard some great adventure." and the king told his steward that the writing in gold had made him forget his usual custom. as they waited a squire came hastily into the hall. "i have a strange tale to tell," he said. "as i walked along the bank of the river i saw a great stone, and it floated on the top of the water, and into the stone there has been thrust a sword." then the king and all his knights went down to the river, and they saw the stone, and it was like red marble. and the sword that had been thrust into the stone was strong and fair. the handle of it was studded with precious stones, and among the stones there were letters of gold. the king stepped forward, and bending over the sword read these words: "no one shall take me away save him to whom i belong. i will hang only by the side of the best knight in the world." the king turned to sir lancelot. "the sword is yours, for surely there lives no truer knight." but sir lancelot answered gravely, "the sword is not mine. it will never hang by my side, for i dare not try to take it." the king was sorry that his great knight's courage failed, but he turned to sir gawaine and asked him to try to take the sword. and at first sir gawaine hesitated. but when he looked again at the precious stones that sparkled on the handle, he hesitated no longer. but he no sooner touched the sword than it wounded him, so that he could not use his arm for many days. then the king turned to sir percivale. and because arthur wished it, sir percivale tried to take the sword; but he could not move it. and after that no other knight dared to touch the fair sword; so they turned and went back to the palace. in the dining-hall the king and his knights sat down once more at the round table, and each knight knew his own chair. and all the seats were filled except the chair opposite the writing in gold. it had been a day full of surprise, but now the most wonderful thing of all happened. for as they sat down, suddenly all the doors of the palace shut with a loud noise, but no one had touched the doors. and all the windows were softly closed, but no one saw the hands that closed them. then one of the doors opened, and there came in a very old man dressed all in white, and no one knew whence he came. by his side was a young man in red armor. he had neither sword nor shield, but hanging by his side was an empty sheath. there was a great silence in the hall as the old man said, slowly and solemnly, "i bring you the young knight sir galahad, who is descended from a king. he shall do many great deeds, and he shall see the holy grail." "he shall see the holy grail," the knights repeated, with awe on their faces. for far back, in the days of their boyhood, they had heard the story of the holy grail. it was the sacred cup out of which their lord had drunk before he died. and they had been told how sometimes it was seen carried by angels, and how at other times in a gleam of light. but in whatever way it appeared, it was seen only by those who were pure in heart. and as the old man's words, "he shall see the holy grail," fell on their ears, the knights thought of the story they had heard so long ago, and they were sorry, for they had never seen the sacred cup, and they knew that it was unseen only by those who had done wrong. but the old man was telling the boy-knight to follow him. he led him to the empty chair, and lifted the silk that covered the golden letters. "this is the seat of sir galahad, the pure-hearted," he read aloud. and the young knight sat in the empty seat that belonged to him. then the old man left the palace, and twenty noble squires met him, and took him back to his own country. when dinner was ended, the king went over to the chair where his boy-knight sat, and welcomed him to the circle of the round table. afterwards he took sir galahad's hand, and led him out of the palace to show him the strange red stone that floated on the river. when sir galahad heard how the knights could not draw the sword out of the stone, he knew that this adventure was his. "i will try to take the sword," said the boy-knight, "and place it in my sheath, for it is empty," and he pointed to his side. then he laid his hand on the wonderful sword, and easily drew it out of the stone, and placed it in his sheath. "god has sent you the sword, now he will send you a shield as well," said king arthur. then the king proclaimed that the next day there would be a tournament in the meadows of camelot. for before his knights went out to new adventures, he would see sir galahad proved. and in the morning the meadows lay bright in the sunshine. and the boy-knight rode bravely to his first combat, and over-threw many men; but sir lancelot and sir percivale he could not overthrow. when the tournament was over the king and his knights went home to supper, and each sat in his own seat at the round table. all at once there was a loud crashing noise, a noise that was louder than any peal of thunder. was the king's wonderful palace falling to pieces? but while the noise still sounded a marvelous light stole into the room, a light brighter than any sunbeam. as the knights looked at one another, each seemed to the other to have a new glory and a new beauty in his face. and down the sunbeam glided the holy grail. it was the sacred cup they had all longed to see. but no one saw it, for it was invisible to all but the pure-hearted sir galahad. as the strange light faded away, king arthur heard his knights vowing that they would go in search of the holy grail, and never give up the quest till they had found it. and the boy-knight knew that he too would go over land and sea, till he saw again the wonderful vision. that night the king could not sleep, for his sorrow was great. his knights would wander into far-off countries, and many of them would forget that they were in search of the holy grail. would they not have found the sacred cup one day if they had stayed with their king and helped to clear the country of its enemies? in the morning the streets of camelot were crowded with rich and poor. and the people wept as they watched the knights ride away on their strange quest. and the king wept too, for he knew that now there would be many empty chairs at the round table. the knights rode together to a strange city and stayed there all night. the next day they separated, each going a different way. sir galahad rode on for four days without adventure. at last he came to a white abbey, where he was received very kindly. and he found two knights there, and one was a king. "what adventure has brought you here?" asked the boy-knight. then they told him that in this abbey there was a shield. and if any man tried to carry it, he was either wounded or dead within three days. "but to-morrow i shall try to bear it," said the king. "in the name of god, let me take the shield," said sir galahad gravely. "if i fail, you shall try to bear it," said the king. and galahad was glad, for he had still no shield of his own. then a monk took the king and the young knight behind the altar, and showed them where the shield hung. it was as white as snow, but in the middle there was a red cross. "the shield can be borne only by the worthiest knight in the world," the monk warned the king. "i will try to bear it, though i am no worthy knight," insisted the king; and he took the shield and rode down into the valley. and galahad waited at the abbey, for the king had said he would send his squire to tell the young knight how the shield had protected him. for two miles the king rode through the valley, till he reached a hermitage. and he saw a warrior there, dressed in white armor, and sitting on a white horse. the warrior rode quickly towards the king, and struck him so hard that he broke his armor. then he thrust his spear through the king's right shoulder, as though he held no shield. "the shield can be borne only by a peerless knight. it does not belong to you," said the warrior, as he gave it to the squire, telling him to carry it back to the abbey and to give it to sir galahad with his greeting. "then tell me your name," said the squire. "i will tell neither you nor any one on earth," said the warrior. and he disappeared, and the squire saw him no more. "i will take the wounded king to an abbey, that his wounds may be dressed," thought the squire. and with great difficulty the king and his squire reached an abbey. and the monks thought his life could not be saved, but after many days he was cured. then the squire rode back to the abbey where galahad waited. "the warrior who wounded the king bids you bear this shield," he said. galahad hung the shield round his neck joyfully, and rode into the valley to seek the warrior dressed in white. and when they met they saluted each other courteously. and the warrior told sir galahad strange tales of the white shield, till the knight thanked god that now it was his. and all his life long the white shield with the red cross was one of his great treasures. now galahad rode back to the abbey, and the monks were glad to see him again. "we have need of a pure knight," they said, as they took sir galahad to a tomb in the churchyard. a pitiful noise was heard, and a voice from the tomb cried, "galahad, servant of god, do not come near me." but the young knight went towards the tomb and raised the stone. then a thick smoke was seen, and through the smoke a figure uglier than any man leaped from the tomb, shouting, "angels are round thee, galahad, servant of god. i can do you no harm." the knight stooped down and saw a body all dressed in armor lying there, and a sword lay by its side. "this was a false knight," said sir galahad. "let us carry his body away from this place." "you will stay in the abbey and live with us," entreated the monks. but the boy-knight could not rest. would he see the light that was brighter than any sunbeam again? would his adventures bring him at last to the holy grail? sir galahad rode on many days, till at last he reached a mountain. on the mountain he found an old chapel. it was empty and very desolate. galahad knelt alone before the altar, and asked god to tell him what to do next. and as he prayed a voice said, "thou brave knight, go to the castle of maidens and rescue them." galahad rose, and gladly journeyed on to the castle of maidens. there he found seven knights, who long ago had seized the castle from a maiden to whom it belonged. and these knights had imprisoned her and many other maidens. when the seven knights saw sir galahad they came out of the castle. "we will take this young knight captive, and keep him in prison," they said to each other, as they fell upon him. but sir galahad smote the first knight to the ground, so that he almost broke his neck. and as his wonderful sword flashed in the light, sudden fear fell on the six knights that were left and they turned and fled. then an old man took the keys of the castle to galahad. and the knight opened the gates of the castle, and set free many prisoners. he gave the castle back to the maiden to whom it belonged, and sent for all the knights in the country round about to do her homage. then once again sir galahad rode on in search of the holy grail. and the way seemed long, yet on and on he rode, till at last he reached the sea. there, on the shore, stood a maiden, and when she saw sir galahad, she led him to a ship and told him to enter. the wind rose and drove the ship, with sir galahad on board, between two rocks. but when the ship could not pass that way, the knight left it, and entered a smaller one that awaited him. in this ship was a table, and on the table, covered with a red cloth, was the holy grail. reverently sir galahad sank on his knees. but still the sacred cup was covered. at last the ship reached a strange city, and on the shore sat a crippled man. sir galahad asked his help to lift the table from the ship. "for ten years i have not walked without crutches," said the man. "show that you are willing, and come to me," urged the knight. and the cripple got up, and when he found that he was cured, he ran to sir galahad, and together they carried the wonderful table to the shore. then all the city was astonished, and the people talked only of the great marvel. "the man that was a cripple for ten years can walk," each said to the other. the king of the city heard the wonderful tale, but he was a cruel king and a tyrant. "the knight is not a good man," he said to his people, and he commanded that galahad should be put in prison. and the prison was underneath the palace, and it was dark and cold there. but down into the darkness streamed the light that had made galahad so glad long ago at camelot. and in the light galahad saw the holy grail. a year passed and the cruel king was very ill, and he thought he would die. then he remembered the knight he had treated so unkindly, and who was still in the dark, cold prison. "i will send for him, and ask him to forgive me," murmured the king. and when galahad was brought to the palace, he willingly forgave the tyrant who had put him in prison. then the king died, and there was great dismay in the city, for where would they find a good ruler to sit on the throne? as they wondered, they heard a voice that told them to make sir galahad their king, and in great joy the knight was crowned. then the new king ordered a box of gold and precious stones to be made, and in this box he placed the wonderful table he had carried away from the ship. "and every morning i and my people will come here to pray," he said. for a year sir galahad ruled the country well and wisely. "a year ago they crowned me king," thought galahad gravely, as he woke one morning. he would get up early, and go to pray at the precious table. but before the king reached the table he paused. it was early. surely all the city was asleep. yet some one was already there, kneeling before the table on which, uncovered, stood the sacred cup. the man kneeling there looked holy as the saints look. surrounding him was a circle of angels. was it a saint who kneeled, or was it the lord himself? when the man saw sir galahad, he said, "come near, thou servant of jesus christ, and thou shalt see what thou hast so much longed to see." and with joy sir galahad saw again the holy grail. then as he kneeled before it in prayer, his soul left his body and was carried into heaven. the passing of arthur adapted by mary macgregor it was not to win renown that king arthur had gone far across the sea, for he loved his own country so well, that to gain glory at home made him happiest of all. but a false knight with his followers was laying waste the country across the sea, and arthur had gone to wage war against him. "and you, sir modred, will rule the country while i am gone," the king had said. and the knight smiled as he thought of the power that would be his. at first the people missed their great king arthur, but as the months passed they began to forget him, and to talk only of sir modred and his ways. and he, that he might gain the people's praise, made easier laws than ever arthur had done, till by and by there were many in the country who wished that the king would never come back. when modred knew what the people wished, he was glad, and he made up his mind to do a cruel deed. he would cause letters to be written from beyond the sea, and the letters would tell that the great king arthur had been slain in battle. and when the letters came the people read, "king arthur is dead," and they believed the news was true. and there were some who wept because the noble king was slain, but some had no time to weep. "we must find a new king," they said. and because his laws were easy, these chose sir modred to rule over them. the wicked knight was pleased that the people wished him to be their king. "they shall take me to canterbury to crown me," he said proudly. and the nobles took him there, and amid shouts and rejoicings he was crowned. but it was not very long till other letters came from across the sea, saying that king arthur had not been slain, and that he was coming back to rule over his own country once more. when sir modred heard that king arthur was on his way home, he collected a great army and went to dover to try to keep the king from landing. but no army would have been strong enough to keep arthur and his knights away from the country they loved so well. they fought fiercely till they got on shore and scattered all sir modred's men. then the knight gathered another army, and chose a new battle-field. but king arthur fought so bravely that he and his men were again victorious, and sir modred fled to canterbury. many of the people began to forsake the false knight now, and saying that he was a traitor, they went back to king arthur. but still sir modred wished to conquer the king. he would go through the counties of kent and surrey and raise a new army. now king arthur had dreamed that if he fought with sir modred again he would be slain. so when he heard that the knight had raised another army, he thought, "i will meet this traitor who has betrayed me. when he looks in my face, he will be ashamed and remember his vow of obedience." and he sent two bishops to sir modred. "say to the knight that the king would speak with him alone," said arthur. and the traitor thought, "the king wishes to give me gold or great power, if i send my army away without fighting," "i will meet king arthur," he said to the bishops. but because he did not altogether trust the king he said he would take fourteen men with him to the meeting-place, "and the king must have fourteen men with him too," said sir modred. "and our armies shall keep watch when we meet, and if a sword is lifted it shall be the signal for battle." then king arthur arranged a feast for sir modred and his men. and as they feasted all went merrily till an adder glided out of a little bush and stung one of the knight's men. and the pain was so great, that the man quickly drew his sword to kill the adder. and when the armies saw the sword flash in the light, they sprang to their feet and began to fight, "for this is the signal for battle," they thought. and when evening came there were many thousand slain and wounded, and sir modred was left alone. but arthur had still two knights with him, sir lucan and sir bedivere. when king arthur saw that his army was lost and all his knights slain but two, he said, "would to god i could find sir modred, who has caused all this trouble." "he is yonder," said sir lucan, "but remember your dream, and go not near him." "whether i die or live," said the king, "he shall not escape." and seizing his spear he ran to sir modred, crying, "now you shall die." and arthur smote him under the shield, and the spear passed through his body, and he died. then, wounded and exhausted, the king fainted, and his knights lifted him and took him to a little chapel not far from a lake. as the king lay there, he heard cries of fear and pain from the distant battle-field. "what causes these cries?" said the king wearily. and to soothe the sick king, sir lucan said he would go to see. and when he reached the battle-field, he saw in the moonlight that robbers were on the field stooping over the slain, and taking from them their rings and their gold. and those that were only wounded, the robbers slew, that they might take their jewels too. sir lucan hastened back, and told the king what he had seen. "we will carry you farther off, lest the robbers find us here," said the knights. and sir lucan lifted the king on one side and sir bedivere lifted him on the other. but sir lucan had been wounded in the battle, and as he lifted the king he fell back and died. then arthur and sir bedivere wept for the fallen knight. now the king felt so ill that he thought he would not live much longer, and he turned to sir bedivere: "take excalibur, my good sword," he said, "and go with it to the lake, and throw it into its waters. then come quickly and tell me what you see." sir bedivere took the sword and went down to the lake. but as he looked at the handle with its sparkling gems and the richness of the sword, he thought he could not throw it away. "i will hide it carefully here among the rushes," thought the knight. and when he had hidden it, he went slowly to the king and told him he had thrown the sword into the lake. "what did you see?" asked the king eagerly. "nothing but the ripple of the waves as they broke on the beach," said sir bedivere. "you have not told me the truth," said the king. "if you love me, go again to the lake, and throw my sword into the water." again the knight went to the water's edge. he drew the sword from its hiding-place. he would do the king's will, for he loved him. but again the beauty of the sword made him pause. "it is a noble sword; i will not throw it away," he murmured, as once more he hid it among the rushes. then he went back more slowly, and told the king that he had done his will. "what did you see?" asked the king. "nothing but the ripples of the waves as they broke on the beach," repeated the knight. "you have betrayed me twice," said the king sadly, "and yet you are a noble knight! go again to the lake, and do not betray me for a rich sword." then for the third time sir bedivere went to the water's edge, and drawing the sword from among the rushes, he flung it as far as he could into the lake. and as the knight watched, an arm and a hand appeared above the surface of the lake. he saw the hand seize the sword, and shaking it three times, disappear again under the water. then sir bedivere went back quickly to the king, and told him what he had seen. "carry me to the lake," entreated arthur, "for i have been here too long." and the knight carried the king on his shoulders down to the water's side. there they found a barge lying, and seated in it were three queens, and each queen wore a black hood. and when they saw king arthur they wept. "lay me in the barge," said the king. and when sir bedivere had laid him there, king arthur rested his head on the lap of the fairest queen. and they rowed from land. sir bedivere, left alone, watched the barge as it drifted out of sight, and then he went sorrowfully on his way, till he reached a hermitage. and he lived there as a hermit for the rest of his life. and the barge was rowed to a vale where the king was healed of his wound. and some say that now he is dead, but others say that king arthur will come again, and clear the country of its foes. robin hood adapted by h.e. marshall i how robin hood came to live in the green wood very many years ago there ruled over england a king, who was called richard coeur de lion. coeur de lion is french and means lion-hearted. it seems strange that an english king should have a french name. but more than a hundred years before this king reigned, a french duke named william came to england, defeated the english in a great battle, and declared himself king of all that southern part of britain called england. he brought with him a great many frenchmen, or normans, as they were called from the name of the part of france over which this duke ruled. these normans were all poor though they were very proud and haughty. they came with duke william to help him to fight because he promised to give them money and lands as a reward. now duke william had not a great deal of money nor many lands of his own. so when he had beaten the english, or saxons, as they were called in those days, he stole lands and houses, money and cattle from the saxon nobles and gave them to the normans. the saxon nobles themselves had very often to become the servants of these proud normans. thus it came about that two races lived in england, each speaking their own language, and each hating the other. this state of things lasted for a very long time. even when richard became king, more than a hundred years after the coming of duke william, there was still a great deal of hatred between the two races. richard coeur de lion, as his name tells you, was a brave and noble man. he loved danger; he loved brave men and noble deeds. he hated all mean and cruel acts, and the cowards who did them. he was ever ready to help the weak against the strong, and had he stayed in england after he became king he might have done much good. he might have taught the proud norman nobles that true nobility rests in being kind and gentle to those less strong and less fortunate than ourselves, and not in fierceness and cruelty. yet richard himself was neither meek nor gentle. he was indeed very fierce and terrible in battle. he loved to fight with people who were stronger or better armed than himself. he would have been ashamed to hurt the weak and feeble. but richard did not stay in england. far, far over the seas there is a country called palestine. there our lord was born, lived, and died. christian people in all ages must think tenderly and gratefully of that far-off country. but at this time it had fallen into the hands of the heathen. it seemed to christian people in those days that it would be a terrible sin to allow wicked heathen to live in the holy land. so they gathered together great armies of brave men from every country in the world and sent them to try to win it back. many brave deeds were done, many terrible battles fought, but still the heathen kept possession. then brave king richard of england said he too would fight for the city of our lord. so he gathered together as much money as he could find, and as many brave men as would follow him, and set out for the holy land. before he went away he called two bishops who he thought were good and wise men, and said to them: "take care of england while i am gone. rule my people wisely and well, and i will reward you when i return." the bishops promised to do as he asked. then he said farewell and sailed away. now king richard had a brother who was called prince john. prince john was quite different from king richard in every way. he was not at all a nice man. he was jealous of richard because he was king, and angry because he himself had not been chosen to rule while richard was in palestine. as soon as his brother had gone, john went to the bishops and said, "you must let me rule while the king is away." and the bishops allowed him to do so. deep down in his wicked heart john meant to make himself king altogether, and never let richard come back any more. a very sad time now began for the saxons. john tried to please the haughty normans because they were great and powerful, and he hoped they would help to make him king. he thought the best way to please them was to give them land and money. so as he had none of his own (he was indeed called john lackland) he took it from the saxons and gave it to the normans. thus many of the saxons once more became homeless beggars, and lived a wild life in the forests, which covered a great part of england at this time. now among the few saxon nobles who still remained, and who had not been robbed of their lands and money, there was one called robert, earl of huntingdon. he had one son also named robert, but people called him robin. he was a favorite with every one. tall, strong, handsome, and full of fun, he kept his father's house bright with songs and laughter. he was brave and fearless too, and there was no better archer in all the countryside. and with it all he was gentle and tender, never hurting the weak nor scorning the poor. but robert of huntingdon had a bitter enemy. one day this enemy came with many soldiers behind him, determined to kill the earl and take all his goods and lands. there was a fierce and terrible fight, but in the end robert and all his men were killed. his house was burned to the ground and all his money stolen. only robin was saved, because he was such a splendid archer that no soldier would go near him, either to kill him or take him prisoner. he fought bravely till the last, but when he saw that his father was dead and his home in flames, he had no heart to fight any longer. so taking his bow and arrows, he fled to the great forest of sherwood. very fast he had to run, for prince john's men were close behind him. soon he reached the edge of the forest, but he did not stop there. on and on he went, plunging deeper and deeper under the shadow of the trees. at last he threw himself down beneath a great oak, burying his face in the cool, green grass. his heart felt hot and bitter. he was full of rage and fierce thoughts of revenge. cruel men in one day had robbed him of everything. his father, his home, servants, cattle, land, money, his name even, all were gone. he was bruised, hungry, and weary. yet as he lay pressing his face against the cool, green grass, and clutching the soft, damp moss with his hands, it was not sorrow or pain he felt, but only a bitter longing for revenge. [illustration: robin hood in an encounter.] the great, solemn trees waved gently overhead in the summer breeze, the setting sun sent shafts of golden light into the cool, blue shadows, birds sang their evening songs, deer rustled softly through the underwood, and bright-eyed squirrels leaped noiselessly from branch to branch. everywhere there was calm and peace except in poor robin's angry heart. robin loved the forest. he loved the sights and scents, and the sounds and deep silences of it. he felt as if it were a tender mother who opened her wide arms to him. soon it comforted him, and at last the tears came hot and fast, and sobs shook him as he lay on the grass. the bitterness and anger had all melted out of his heart; only sorrow was left. in the dim evening light robin knelt bareheaded on the green grass to say his prayers. then, still bareheaded, he stood up and swore an oath. this was the oath: "i swear to honor god and the king, to help the weak and fight the strong, to take from the rich and give to the poor, so god will help, me with his power." then he lay down on the grass under the trees with his good longbow beside him, and fell fast asleep. and this is how robin hood first came to live in the green wood and have all his wonderful adventures. ii the meeting of robin hood and little john when robin first came to live in sherwood forest he was rather sad, for he could not at once forget all he had lost. but he was not long lonely. when it became known that he had gone to live in the green wood, other poor men, who had been driven out of their homes by the normans, joined him. they soon formed a band and were known as the "merry men." robin was no longer called robin of huntingdon, but robin of sherwood forest. very soon people shortened sherwood into hood, though some people say he was called hood from the green hoods he and his men wore. how he came to have his name does not matter very much. people almost forgot that he was really an earl, and he became known, not only all over england, but in many far countries, as robin hood. robin was captain of the band of merry men. next to him came little john. he was called little john because he was so tall, just as midge the miller's son was called much because he was so small. robin loved little john best of all his friends. little john loved robin better than any one else in all the world. yet the first time they met they fought and knocked each other about dreadfully. "how they came acquainted, i'll tell you in brief, if you will but listen a while; for this very jest, among all the rest, i think it may cause you to smile." it happened on a bright sunshiny day in early spring. all through the winter robin and his men had had a very dull time. nearly all their fun and adventures happened with people traveling through the forest. as there were no trains, people had to travel on horseback. in winter the roads were bad, and the weather so cold and wet, that most people stayed at home. so it was rather a quiet time for robin and his men. they lived in great caves during the winter, and spent their time making stores of bows and arrows, and mending their boots and clothes. this bright sunshiny morning robin felt dull and restless, so he took his bow and arrows, and started off through the forest in search of adventure. he wandered on for some time without meeting any one. presently he came to a river. it was wide and deep, swollen by the winter rains. it was crossed by a very slender, shaky bridge, so narrow, that if two people tried to pass each other on it, one would certainly fall into the water. robin began to cross the bridge, before he noticed that a great, tall man, the very tallest man he had ever seen, was crossing too from the other side. "go back and wait until i have come over," he called out as soon as he noticed the stranger. the stranger laughed, and called out in reply, "i have as good a right to the bridge as you. _you_ can go back till _i_ get across." this made robin very angry. he was so accustomed to being obeyed that he was very much astonished too. between anger and astonishment he hardly knew what he did. he drew an arrow from his quiver, and fitting it to his bow, called out again, "if you don't go back i'll shoot." "if you do, i'll beat you till you are black and blue," replied the stranger. "quoth bold robin hood, 'thou dost prate like an ass, for, were i to bend my bow, i could send a dart quite through thy proud heart, before thou couldst strike a blow.'" "if i talk like an ass you talk like a coward," replied the stranger. "do you call it fair to stand with your bow and arrow ready to shoot at me when i have only a stick to defend myself with? i tell you, you are a coward. you are afraid of the beating i would give you." robin was not a coward, and he was not afraid. so he threw his bow and arrows on the bank behind him. "you are a big, boastful bully," he said. "just wait there until i get a stick. i hope i may give you as good a beating as you deserve." the stranger laughed. "i won't run away; don't be afraid," he said. robin hood stepped to a thicket of trees and cut himself a good, thick oak stick. while he was doing this, he looked at the stranger, and saw that he was not only taller but much stronger than himself. however, that did not frighten robin in the least. he was rather glad of it indeed. the stranger had said he was a coward. he meant to prove to him that he was not. back he came with a fine big stick in his hand and a smile on his face. the idea of a real good fight had made his bad temper fly away, for, like king richard, robin hood was rather fond of a fight. "we will fight on the bridge," said he, "and whoever first falls into the river has lost the battle." "all right," said the stranger. "whatever you like. i'm not afraid." then they fell to, with right good will. it was very difficult to fight standing on such a narrow bridge. they kept swaying backwards and forwards trying to keep their balance. with every stroke the bridge bent and trembled beneath them as if it would break. all the same they managed to give each other some tremendous blows. first robin gave the stranger such a bang that his very bones seemed to ring. "aha!" said he, "i'll give you as good as i get," and crack he went at robin's crown. bang, smash, crack, bang, they went at each other. their blows fell fast and thick as if they had been threshing corn. "the stranger gave robin a knock on the crown, which caused the blood to appear, then robin enraged, more fiercely engaged, and followed with blows more severe. "so thick and so fast did he lay it on him, with a passionate fury and ire, at every stroke he made him to smoke, as if he had been all on fire." when robin's blows came so fast and furious, the stranger felt he could not stand it much longer. gathering all his strength, with one mighty blow he sent robin backwards, right into the river. head over heels he went, and disappeared under the water. the stranger very nearly fell in after him. he was so astonished at robin's sudden disappearance that he could not think for a minute or two where he had vanished to. he knelt down on the bridge, and stared into the water. "hallo, my good man," he called. "hallo, where are you?" he thought he had drowned robin, and he had not meant to do that. all the same he could not help laughing. robin had looked so funny as he tumbled into the water. "i'm here," called robin, from far down the river. "i'm all right. i'm just swimming with the tide." the current was very strong and had carried him down the river a good way. he was, however, gradually making for the bank. soon he caught hold of the overhanging branches of a tree and pulled himself out. the stranger came running to help him too. "you are not an easy man to beat or to drown either," he said with a laugh, as he helped robin on to dry land again. "well," said robin, laughing too, "i must own that you are a brave man and a good fighter. it was a fair fight, and you have won the battle. i don't want to quarrel with you any more. will you shake hands and be friends with me?" "with all my heart," said the stranger. "it is a long time since i have met any one who could use a stick as you can." so they shook hands like the best of friends, and quite forgot that a few minutes before they had been banging and battering each other as hard as they could. then robin put his bugle-horn to his mouth, and blew a loud, loud blast. "the echoes of which through the valleys did ring, at which his stout bowmen appeared, and clothed in green, most gay to be seen, so up to their master they steered." when the stranger saw all these fine men, dressed in green, and carrying bows and arrows, come running to robin he was very much astonished. "o master dear, what has happened?" cried will stutely, the leader, as he ran up. "you have a great cut in your forehead, and you are soaked through and through," he added, laying his hand on robin's arm. "it is nothing," laughed robin. "this young fellow and i have been having a fight. he cracked my crown and then tumbled me into the river." when they heard that, robin's men were very angry. "if he has tumbled our master into the river, we will tumble him in," said they; "we will see how he likes that." and they seized him, and would have dragged him to the water to drown him, but robin called out, "stop, stop! it was a fair fight. he is a brave man, and we are very good friends now." then turning to the stranger, robin bowed politely to him, saying, "i beg you to forgive my men. they will not harm you now they know that you are my friend, for i am robin hood." the stranger was very much astonished when he heard that he had actually been fighting with bold robin hood, of whom he had heard so many tales. "if you will come and live with me and my merry men," went on robin, "i will give you a suit of lincoln green. i will teach you how to use bow and arrows as well as you use your good stick." "i should like nothing better," replied the stranger. "my name is john little, and i promise to serve you faithfully." "john little!" said will stutely laughing. "john little! what a name for a man that height! john little! why he is seven feet tall if he is an inch!" will laughed and laughed, till the tears ran down his face. he thought it was such a funny name for so big a man. robin laughed because will laughed. then john little laughed because robin laughed. soon they were all laughing as hard as they could. the wind carried the sound of it away, till the folk in the villages round about said, "hark! how robin hood and his merry men do laugh!" "well," said robin at last, "i have heard it said, 'laugh and grow fat,' but if we don't get some dinner soon i think we will all grow very lean. come along, my little john, i'm sure you must be hungry too." "little john," said will stutely, "that's the very name for him. we must christen him again, and i will be his godfather." back to their forest home they all went, laughing and talking as merrily as possible, taking john little along with them. dinner was waiting for them when they arrived. the head cook was looking anxiously through the trees, saying, "i do wish master robin would come, or the roast venison will be too much cooked and the rabbits will be stewed to rags." just at that moment they appeared. the cook was struck dumb at the sight of the giant, stalking along beside robin. "where has master gotten that maypole?" he said, laughing to himself, as he ran away to dish the dinner. they had a very merry dinner. robin found that john was not only a good fighter but that he had a wise head and a witty tongue. he was more and more delighted with his new companion. but will and the others had not forgotten that he was to be christened again. seven of them came behind him, and in spite of all his kicking and struggling wrapped him up in a long, green cloak, pretending he was a baby. it was a very noisy christening. the men all shouted and laughed. john little laughed and screamed in turn, and kicked and struggled all the time. "hush, baby, hush," they said. but the seven-foot baby wouldn't hush. then will stepped up beside him and began to speak. "this infant was called john little, quoth he, which name shall be changed anon, the words we'll transpose, so wherever he goes, his name shall be called little john." they had some buckets of water ready. these they poured over poor little john till he was as wet as robin had been after he fell into the river. the men roared with laughter. little john looked so funny as he rolled about on the grass, trying to get out of his long, wet, green robe. he looked just like a huge green caterpillar. robin laughed as much as any one. at last he said, "now, will, don't you think that is enough?" "not a bit," said will. "you wouldn't let us duck him in the river when we had him there so we have brought the river to him." at last all the buckets were empty, and the christening was over. then all the men stood round in a ring and gave three cheers for little john, robin's new man. "then robin he took the sweet pretty babe, and clothed him from top to toe in garments of green, most gay to be seen, and gave him a curious longbow." after that they sang, danced and played the whole afternoon. then when the sun sank and the long, cool shadows fell across the grass they all said "good night" and went off into their caves to sleep. from that day little john always lived with robin. they became very, very great friends and little john was next to robin in command of the men. "and so ever after as long as he lived, although he was proper and tall, yet, nevertheless, the truth to express, still little john they did him call." iii robin hood and the butcher the sheriff of nottingham hated robin and would have been very glad if any one had killed him. the sheriff was a very unkind man. he treated the poor saxons very badly. he often took away all their money, and their houses and left them to starve. sometimes, for a very little fault, he would cut off their ears or fingers. the poor people used to go into the wood, and robin would give them food and money. sometimes they went home again, but very often they stayed with him, and became his men. the sheriff knew this, so he hated robin all the more, and he was never so happy as when he had caught one of robin's men and locked him up in prison. but try how he might, he could not catch robin. all the same robin used to go to nottingham very often, but he was always so well disguised that the sheriff never knew him. so he always escaped. the sheriff was too much afraid of him to go into the forest to try to take him. he knew his men were no match for robin's. robin's men served him and fought for him because they loved him. the sheriff's men only served him because they feared him. one day robin was walking through the forest when he met a butcher. this butcher was riding gaily along to the market at nottingham. he was dressed in a blue linen coat, with leather belt. on either side of his strong gray pony hung a basket full of meat. in these days as there were no trains, everything had to be sent by road. the roads were so bad that even carts could not go along them very much, for the wheels stuck in the mud. everything was carried on horseback, in sacks or baskets called panniers. the butcher rode gaily along, whistling as he went. suddenly robin stepped from under the trees and stopped him. "what have you there, my man?" he asked. "butcher's meat," replied the man. "fine prime beef and mutton for nottingham market. do you want to buy some?" "yes, i do," said robin. "i'll buy it all and your pony too. how much do you want for it? i should like to go to nottingham and see what kind of a butcher i will make:" so the butcher sold his pony and all his meat to robin. then robin changed clothes with him. he put on the butcher's blue clothes and leather belt, and the butcher went off in robin's suit of lincoln green, feeling very grand indeed. then robin mounted his pony and off he went to nottingham to sell his meat at the market. when he arrived he found the whole town in a bustle. in those days there were very few shops, so every one used to go to market to buy and sell. the country people brought butter and eggs and honey to sell. with the money they got they bought platters and mugs, pots and pans, or whatever they wanted, and took it back to the country with them. all sorts of people came to buy: fine ladies and poor women, rich knights and gentlemen, and humble workers, every one pushing and crowding together. robin found it quite difficult to drive his pony through the crowd to the corner of the market-place where the butchers had their stalls. he got there at last, however, laid out his meat, and began to cry with the best of them. "prime meat, ladies. come and buy. cheapest meat in all the market, ladies. come buy, come buy. twopence a pound, ladies. twopence a pound. come buy. come buy." "what!" said every one, "beef at twopence a pound! i never heard of such a thing. why it is generally tenpence." you see robin knew nothing at all about selling meat, as he never bought any. he and his men used to live on what they shot in the forest. when it became known that there was a new butcher, who was selling his meat for twopence a pound, every one came crowding round his stall eager to buy. all the other butchers stood idle until robin had no more beef and mutton left to sell. as these butchers had nothing to do, they began to talk among themselves and say, "who is this man? he has never been here before." "do you think he has stolen the meat?" "perhaps his father has just died and left him a business." "well, his money won't last long at this rate." "the sooner he loses it all, the better for us. we will never be able to sell anything as long as he comes here giving away beef at twopence a pound." "it is perfectly ridiculous," said one old man, who seemed to be the chief butcher. "these fifty years have i come and gone to nottingham market, and i have never seen the like of it--never. he is ruining the trade, that's what he is doing." they stood at their stalls sulky and cross, while all their customers crowded round robin. shouts of laughter came from his corner, for he was not only selling beef and mutton, but making jokes about it all the time. "i tell you what," said the old butcher, "it is no use standing here doing nothing. we had better go and talk to him, and find out, if we can, who he is. we must ask him to come and have dinner with us and the sheriff in the town hall to-day." for on market days the butchers used to have dinner all together in the town hall, after market was over, and the sheriff used to come and have dinner with them. "so, the butchers stepped up to jolly robin, acquainted with him for to be; come, butcher, one said, we be all of one trade, come, will you go dine with me?" "thank you," said robin, "i should like nothing better. i have had a busy morning and am very hungry and thirsty." "come along, then," said the butchers. the old man led the way with robin, and the others followed two by two. as they walked along, the old butcher began asking robin questions, to try and find out something about him. "you have not been here before?" he said. "have i not?" replied robin. "i have not seen you, at least." "have you not?" "you are new to the business?" "am i?" "well, you seem to be," said the old butcher, getting rather cross. "do i?" replied robin, laughing. at last they came to the town hall, and though they had talked all the time the old butcher had got nothing out of robin, and was not a bit the wiser. the sheriff's house was close to the town hall, so as dinner was not quite ready all the butchers went to say "how do you do?" to the sheriff's wife. she received them very kindly, and was quite interested in robin when she heard that he was the new butcher who had been selling such wonderfully cheap meat. robin had such pleasant manners too, that she thought he was a very nice man indeed. she was quite sorry when the sheriff came and took him away, saying dinner was ready. "i hope to see you again, kind sir," she said when saying good-by. "come to see me next time you have meat to sell." "thank you, lady, i will not forget your kindness," replied robin, bowing low. at dinner the sheriff sat at one end of the table and the old butcher at the other. robin, as the greatest stranger, had the place of honor on the sheriff's right hand. at first the dinner was very dull. all the butchers were sulky and cross, only robin was merry. he could not help laughing to himself at the idea of dining with his great enemy the sheriff of nottingham. and not only dining with him, but sitting on his right hand, and being treated as an honored guest. if the sheriff had only known, poor robin would very soon have been locked up in a dark dungeon, eating dry bread instead of apple-pie and custard and all the fine things they were having for dinner. however, robin was so merry, that very soon the butchers forgot to be cross and sulky. before the end of dinner all were laughing till their sides ached. only the sheriff was grave and thinking hard. he was a greedy old man, and he was saying to himself, "this silly young fellow evidently does not know the value of things. if he has any cattle i might buy them from him for very little. i could sell them again to the butchers for a good price. in that way i should make a lot of money." after dinner he took robin by the arm and led him aside. "see here, young man," he said, "i like your looks. but you seem new to this business. now, don't you trust these men," pointing to the butchers. "they are all as ready as can be to cheat you. you take my advice. if you have any cattle to sell, come to me. i'll give you a good price." "thank you," said robin, "it is most kind of you." "hast thou any horned beasts, the sheriff then said, good fellow, to sell to me? yes, that i have, good master sheriff, i have hundreds two or three. "and a hundred acres of good free land, if you please it for to see; and i'll make you as good assurance of it, as ever my father did me." the sheriff nearly danced for joy when he heard that robin had so many horned cattle for sale. he had quite made up his mind that it would be very easy to cheat this silly young fellow. already he began to count the money he would make. he was such a greedy old man. but there was a wicked twinkle in robin's eye. "now, young man, when can i see these horned beasts of yours?" asked the sheriff. "i can't buy a pig in a poke, you know. i must see them first. and the land too, and the land too," he added, rubbing his hands, and jumping about in excitement. "the sooner the better," said robin. "i start for home to-morrow morning. if you like to ride with me i will show you the horned beasts and the land too." "capital, capital," said the sheriff. "to-morrow morning then, after breakfast, i go with you. and see here, young man," he added, catching hold of robin's coat-tails as he was going away, "you won't go and sell to any one else in the meantime? it is a bargain, isn't it?" "oh, certainly. i won't even speak of it to any one," replied robin; and he went away, laughing heartily to himself. that night the sheriff went into his counting-house and counted out three hundred pounds in gold. he tied it up in three bags, one hundred pounds in each bag. "it's a lot of money," he said to himself, "a lot of money. still, i suppose, i must pay him something for his cattle. but it is a lot of money to part with," and he heaved a big sigh. he put the gold underneath his pillow in case any one should steal it during the night. then he went to bed and tried to sleep. but he was too excited; besides the gold under his pillow made it so hard and knobby that it was most uncomfortable. at last the night passed, and in the morning. "the sheriff he saddled his good palfrey, and with three hundred pounds in gold away he went with bold robin hood, his horned beasts to behold." the sun shone and the birds sang as they merrily rode along. when the sheriff saw that they were taking the road to sherwood forest, he began to feel a little nervous. "there is a bold, bad man in these woods," he said. "he is called robin hood. he robs people, he--do you think we will meet him?" "i am quite sure we won't meet him," replied robin with a laugh. "well, i hope not, i am sure," said the sheriff. "i never dare to ride through the forest unless i have my soldiers with me. he is a bold, bad man." robin only laughed, and they rode on right into the forest. "but when a little farther they came, bold robin he chanced to spy an hundred head of good fat deer come tripping the sheriff full nigh." "look there," he cried, "look! what do you think of my horned beasts?" "i think," said the sheriff, in a trembling voice, "i think i should like to go back to nottingham." "what! and not buy any horned cattle? what is the matter with them? are they not fine and fat? are they not a beautiful color? come, come, sheriff, when you have brought the money for them too." at the mention of money the sheriff turned quite pale and clutched hold of his bags. "young man," he said, "i don't like you at all. i tell you i want to go back to nottingham. this isn't money i have in my bags, it is only pebble-stones." "then robin put his horn to his mouth, and blew out blasts three; then quickly and anon there came little john, and all his company." "good morning, little john," said robin. "good morning, master robin," he replied. "what orders have you for to-day?" "well, in the first place i hope you have something nice for dinner, because i have brought the sheriff of nottingham to dine with us," answered robin. "yes," said little john, "the cooks are busy already as we thought you might bring some one back with you. but we hardly expected so fine a guest as the sheriff of nottingham," he added, making a low bow to him. "i hope he intends to pay honestly." for that was robin hood's way. he always gave a very fine dinner to these naughty men who had stolen money from poor people, and then he made them pay a great deal of money for it. the sheriff was very much afraid when he knew that he had really fallen into the hands of robin hood. he was angry too when he thought that he had actually had robin in his own house the day before, and could so easily have caught and put him in prison, if he had only known. they had a very fine dinner, and the sheriff began to feel quite comfortable and to think he was going to get off easily, when robin said, "now, master sheriff, you must pay for your dinner." "oh! indeed i am a poor man," said the sheriff, "i have no money." "no money! what have you in your saddle-bags, then?" asked robin. "only pebbles, nothing but pebbles, as i told you before," replied the frightened sheriff. "little john, go and search the sheriff's saddle-bags," said robin. little john did as he was told, and counted out three hundred pounds upon the ground. "sheriff," said robin sternly, "i shall keep all this money and divide it among my men. it is not half as much as you have stolen from them. if you had told me the truth about it, i might have given you some back. but i always punish people who tell lies. you have done so many evil deeds," he went on, "that you deserve to be hanged." the poor sheriff shook in his shoes. "hanged you should be," continued robin, "but your good wife was kind to me yesterday. for her sake, i let you go. but if you are not kinder to my people i will not let you off so easily another time." and robin called for the sheriff's pony. "then robin he brought him through the wood, and set him on his dapple gray: oh, have me commended to your wife at home, so robin went laughing away." guy of warwick adapted by h.e. marshall i guy's early adventures and his fight with the dun cow long ago england was divided into several kingdoms, each having a king. in a great battle the king of northumbria was defeated and one of his lords, gordian, lost all he owned. he and his wife brunhilda journeyed forth to seek a new home and at last reached warwick, where gordian was made the steward of lord rohand. not long after brunhilda and gordian went to live in warwick, their little son guy was born. as he grew older he became a great favorite and was often invited to the castle. lord rohand heard of guy and asked him to a great dinner at warwick castle and afterwards to join in a tournament. to guy was given a seat quite near the earl and opposite his lovely daughter phyllis. she was the most beautiful lady in the kingdom and guy longed to show her how well he could fight. never did guy fight so well; he conquered every one of the knights, and won the prize. phyllis crowned him with roses and put the chain of gold around his neck. after this phyllis and guy were much together and at last guy said suddenly, "phyllis, i love thee. i cannot help it." in great anger she sent him away. guy grew very sad and phyllis very lonely and at length she sent for guy and said, "go away and make thyself famous, then will i marry thee." guy rode gaily away and sailed over to germany. there he heard of a great tournament. whoever fought best was to marry the emperor's daughter blanche, which means white. besides marrying the princess, the bravest knight was to receive a pure white horse, two white hounds, and a white falcon. so it was called the white tournament. when guy told the herald that he was the son of lord gordian he was admitted. all the lords and ladies looked at him scornfully because he wore plain black armor with nothing painted upon his shield. as he had not worn spurs, he was not yet a knight. guy entered the lists and met and conquered prince philaner, the emperor's son, duke otto, duke ranier, and duke louvain. guy took the prize offered with the exception of the hand of blanche. "for my fair phyllis alone i keep my love," he said. guy went back to england and heard that a terrible dun-colored cow had appeared in warwickshire. it was twelve feet high and eighteen feet long. its horns were thicker than an elephant's tusks curled and twisted. the king said that whoever would kill the dun cow should be made a knight and receive a great deal of land and money. guy went out to meet him and after a fearful encounter was able to deal a deathblow with his battle-axe behind the beast's ear. then the king gave the new knight a pair of golden spurs, and lady phyllis fastened them on. in memory of guy's deed one rib of the dun cow was hung up at the gate of coventry and another in the castle of warwick. ii travels and deeds in many lands guy next went to france, where he was wounded at a tournament. his enemy, duke otto, bribed fifteen villains to lie in wait, take him and cast him into prison. with the help of his friend heraud, guy was able to slay them all, but one of the traitor men smote heraud so hard that he fell to the ground as if dead. one day news was brought to guy that ledgwin of louvain was shut up in his city of arrascoun sore beset by the emperor. gathering his soldiers and knights together he set out to help his friend and was overjoyed to find heraud in the guise of a pilgrim sitting by the roadside. heraud had been nursed back to health by a kind hermit. at once he put on armor and rode forth with guy to the city of arrascoun to release ledgwin. there was a great battle but the almains who surrounded the city were defeated and the emperor yielded and forgave ledgwin. while in greece, guy went out hunting and came upon a most wonderful sight, a conflict between a lion and a dragon. just when the dragon was about to crush the lion guy drew his sword, and setting spurs to his horse, sprang upon the dragon. the fight was then between the dragon and guy. it seemed at first that the dragon would be the victor, but, like a flash, guy leaped from his horse and plunged his sword deep into the brute's side. for a moment his speckled crest quivered, then all was still. guy thought he would have to kill the lion too, but as it came near it licked guy's feet and fawned upon him, purring softly like a great pussy-cat. when guy rode back the lion trotted after him and lived with him every day. guy had an enemy at court, morgadour, who hated the brave knight and said, "i cannot kill thee, guy of warwick, but i will grieve thee. i will kill thy lion." this he did in secret. the king was angry when the deed was discovered and told guy to meet him in combat, which he did, and slew morgadour. laden with riches, guy reached home again, this time to marry the beautiful phyllis. there was a great and splendid wedding. for fifteen days the feasting and merriment lasted. for some time guy and phyllis lived happily together. then one sad day earl rohand died and guy became earl of warwick. as the new earl was one day thinking of his past life, it seemed to him that he had caused much bloodshed. thereupon he decided to go to the holy land, and there, at the sepulcher of our lord, do penance for his sins. phyllis begged him to stay; but guy said, "i must go." so, dressed in pilgrim robes, with staff in hand he set out on his long journey. one day as he walked he came upon an old man who was sad because the giant ameraunt was keeping his daughter and fifteen sons in a strong castle. "i am earl jonas of durras," he said, "and i seek guy of warwick to help me." guy said if the earl would give him meat and drink, weapons and armor, he would see what he could do. a splendid coat of mail was brought with shield and sword. guy called to the giant to come forth. "that will i," replied the giant, "and make short work with thee." ameraunt stalked forth and the fight began. all day it lasted before guy with his sword cut the giant's head off. taking the keys of the castle, which lay on the ground, he immediately released earl of jonas's children and other noble knights and brave ladies. putting off his armor, he dressed himself once more in his pilgrim's robe, and with his staff in his hand set out again upon his journey. iii how guy fought with the giant colbrand for some time after guy went away phyllis was very sorrowful. she wept and mourned, and was so sad that she longed to die. at times she even thought of killing herself. she would draw out guy's great sword, which he had left behind, and think how easy it would be to run it through her heart. but she remembered that the good fairies had promised to send her a little son, and so she made up her mind to live until he came. when the good fairies brought the baby she called him reinbroun, and he was so pretty and so dear that phyllis was comforted. then, because her lord was far away, and could not attend to his great lands nor to the ruling of his many servants, phyllis did so for him. she ruled and ordered her household well; she made new roads and rebuilt bridges which had been broken down. she journeyed through all the land, seeing that wrong was made right and evildoers punished. she fed the poor, tended the sick, and comforted those in sorrow, and, besides all this, she built great churches and abbeys. so year after year passed, but still guy did not return. all day phyllis was busy and had no time for grief, but when evening came she would go to pace up and down the path (which to this day is called "fair phyllis's walk") where she and guy had often walked together. now as she wandered there alone, the hot, slow tears would come, and she would feel miserable and forsaken. at last, after many years full of adventures and travel, guy reached england once more. he was now an old man. his beard was long, his hair had grown white, and in the weather-beaten pilgrim none could recognize the gallant knight and earl, guy of warwick. when guy landed in england he found the whole country in sore dread. for anlaf, king of denmark, had invaded england with a great army. with fire and sword he had wasted the land, sparing neither tower nor town, man, woman, nor child, but destroying all that came in his path. fight how they might, the english could not drive out the danes. now they were in deep despair, for the enemy lay before the king's city of winchester. with them was a terrible giant called colbrand, and anlaf had sent a message to king athelstane, as the king who now reigned over all england was called, demanding that he should either find a champion to fight with colbrand or deliver over his kingdom. so the king had sent messengers north, south, east, and west, but in all the land no knight could be found who was brave enough to face the awful giant. and now within the great church of winchester the king with his priests and people knelt, praying god to send a champion. "where, then, is heraud?" asked guy of the man who told this tale. "where is heraud, who never yet forsook man in need?" "alas! he has gone far beyond the seas," replied the man, "and so has guy of warwick. we know not where they are." then guy took his staff and turned his steps toward winchester. coming there, he found the king sitting among his wise men. "i bid you," he was saying to them, "give me some counsel how i may defend my country against the danes. is there any knight among you who will fight this giant? half my kingdom he shall have, and that gladly, if he conquer." but all the wise men, knights and nobles, stood silent and looked upon the ground. "oh, we is me!" then cried the king, "that i rule over such cowards. to what have my english come that i may not find one knight among them bold enough to do battle for his king and country? oh that guy of warwick were here!" then through the bright crowd of steel-clad nobles there came a tall old man, dressed in a worn, dark, pilgrim's robe, with bare feet and head, and a staff in his hand. "my lord king," he said, "i will fight for thee." "thou," said the king in astonishment, "thou seemest more fit to pray than to fight for us." "believe me, my lord king," said guy, for of course it was he, "this hand has often held a sword, and never yet have i been worsted in fight." "then since there is none other," said the king, "fight, and god strengthen thee." now guy was very tall, and no armor could be found anywhere to fit him. "send to the countess of warwick," said guy at last. "ask her to lend the earl's weapons and armor for the saving of england." "that is well thought of," said the king. so a swift messenger was sent to warwick castle, and he presently returned with guy's armor. he at once put it on, and the people marveled that it should fit him so well, for none knew, or guessed, that the pilgrim was guy himself. guy went then out to meet the giant, and all the people crowded to the walls of winchester to watch their champion fight. colbrand came forth. he was so huge that no horse could carry him, and he wore a whole wagon-load of weapons. his armor was pitch-black except his shield, which was blood-red and had a white owl painted upon it. he was a fearsome sight to look upon, and as he strode along shaking his spear every one trembled for guy. it was a terrible and unequal fight. tall though guy was, he could reach no higher than the giant's shoulder with his spear, but yet he wounded him again and again. "i have never fought with any like thee," cried colbrand. "yield, and i will ask king anlaf to make thee a general in the danish army. castle and tower shalt thou have, and everything that thou canst desire, if thou but do as i counsel thee." "better death than that," replied guy, and still fought on. at last, taking his battle-axe in both hands, he gave colbrand such a blow that his sword dropped to the ground. as the giant reeled under the stroke, guy raised his battle-axe once more. "his good axe he reared on high with both hands full mightily; he smote him in the neck so well, that the head flew that very deal. the giant dead on the earth lay; the danes made great sorrow that day." seeing their champion fall, the danes fled to their ships. england was saved. then out of the city came all the people with the priests and king in great procession, and singing hymns of praise as they went, they led guy back. the king brought guy to his palace and offered him splendid robes and great rewards, even to the half of the kingdom. but guy would have none of them. "give me my pilgrim's dress again," he said. and, in spite of all the king could say, he put off his fine armor and dressed himself again in his dark pilgrim's robe. "tell me at least thy name," said the king, "so that the minstrels may sing of thy great deeds, and that in years to come the people may remember and bless thee." "bless god, not me," replied guy. "he it was gave me strength and power against the giant." "then if thou wilt not that the people know," said the king, "tell thy name to me alone." "so be it," said guy. "walk with me half a mile out of the city, thou and i alone. then will i tell thee my name." so the king in his royal robes, and the pilgrim in his dull, dark gown, passed together out of the city gate. when they had gone half a mile, guy stood still. "sire," he said, "thou wouldst know my name. i am guy of warwick, thine own knight. once thou didst love me well, now i am as thou dost see me." at first the king could hardly believe that this poor man was really the great earl of warwick, but when he became sure of it he threw his arms round guy and kissed him. "dear friend, we have long mourned for thee as dead," he cried. "now thou wilt come with me and help me to rule, and i will honor thee above all men." but guy would not go back. he made the king promise to tell no man who he was. this he did for the sake of the oath which he had sworn, that he would never again fight for glory but only for a righteous cause. then once more they kissed, and each turned his own way, the king going sadly back to winchester. as he entered the gates the people crowded round him, eager to know who the pilgrim was. but king athelstane held up his hand. "peace," he said, "i indeed know, but i may not tell you. go to your homes, thank god for your deliverance, and pray for him who overcame the giant." iv how at last guy went home after guy left the king, he journeyed on towards warwick. and when he came to the town over which he was lord and master no one knew him. so he mixed with the poor men who came every morning to the castle gates to receive food from the countess. guy listened to what those round him said. he heard them praise and bless phyllis, calling her the best woman that had ever lived, and his heart was glad. pale and trembling, guy bent before his wife, to receive food from her hands. he was so changed that even she did not know him, but she felt very sorry for the poor man who seemed so thin and worn, so she spoke kindly to him and gave him more food than the others, and told him to come every day as long as he lived. guy thanked her, and turned slowly away. he remembered that a hermit lived in a cave not far off, and to him he went. but when he reached the cave he found it empty. the hermit had been dead many years. guy then made up his mind to live in the cave. every morning he went to the castle to receive food from phyllis. but he would only take the simplest things, often eating nothing but bread and drinking water from the spring which flowed near. every evening guy could hear phyllis as she paced to and fro, for her walk was not far from the hermit's cave. but still some strange enchantment, as it were, held him dumb, and although he still loved her, although he knew that she sorrowed and longed for him to return home, he could not say, "i am here." at last one day guy became very ill. he had no longer strength to go to the castle, so calling a passing countryman to him, he gave him a ring. it was the ring which phyllis had given him, and which he had kept ever with him through all his pilgrimage. "take this," he said to the countryman, "and carry it to fair phyllis, the countess of warwick." but the countryman was afraid. "i have never spoken to a great lady, and i do not know how to address her," he said. "besides she may be angry with me, and i shall get into trouble if i carry a ring to the earl's wife." "do not fear," said guy, "the countess will not be angry; rather will she reward thee. tell her to come hastily or i die." so the countryman took the ring, and, coming to the countess fell upon his knees. "lady," he said, "a pilgrim who lives yonder in the forest sends thee this ring." phyllis took the ring, and, as she looked at it, a strange light came into her eyes. like one in a dream she passed her hand over her forehead. "it is mine own lord, sir guy," she cried, and fell senseless to the ground. the countryman was much frightened, but her ladies ran to the countess and raised her, and soon she opened her eyes. "friend," she said to the countryman, "tell me where is he who gave thee this ring?" "he is in the hermit's cave," replied the man, "and he bade me to say that thou must hasten ere he die." right glad was phyllis at the thought of seeing guy again, yet sorrowful lest she should find him dead. so, calling for her mule, she mounted and rode speedily towards the cave, the countryman running before to show the way. and when they came to the cave phyllis went in, and kneeling beside guy, put her arms round him, crying bitterly. "dear," he said, "weep not, for i go where sorrows end." then "he kissed her fair and courteously, with that he died hastily." there was sorrow through all the land when it was known that guy, the great hero, was dead. he was buried with much pomp and ceremony, the king and queen, and all the greatest nobles of the land, coming to the funeral. and phyllis, not caring to live longer, now that she knew that guy was indeed dead, died too, and they were both buried in the same grave. then minstrels sang of guy's valiant deeds, and of how he had slain giants and dragons, and of how he might have been an emperor and a king over many lands, and how he was ever a gentle and courteous knight. "thus endeth the tale of sir guy: god, on his soul have mercy, and on ours when we be dead, and grant us in heaven to have stead." if you ever go to warwick you will see, in the castle there, guy's sword and armor. wise people will tell you that they never belonged to guy, but to some other men who lived much later. well, perhaps they are right. then, when you are at warwick, you must go to guy's cliff, which is about a mile and a half away. there, in the chapel, is a statue of guy, very old and broken. you will also see there fair phyllis's walk, the spring from which guy used to drink, still called guy's well, and the cave where he lived as a hermit, and where he died. upon the walls of the cave is some writing. you will not be able to read it, for it is saxon, but it means, "cast out, thou christ, from thy servant this burden." did guy, i wonder, or some other, in days of loneliness and despair, carve these words? if you ask why guy did these things--why, when he was happy and had everything he could desire, he threw away that happiness, and wandered out into the world to endure hunger, and weariness, and suffering--or why, when at last he came back and found his beautiful wife waiting and longing for his return, he did not go to her and be happy again, i cannot tell you certainly. but perhaps it may be explained in this way. in those far-off days there was nothing for great men to do but fight. what they had they had won by the sword, and they kept it by the sword. so they went swaggering over the world, fighting and shedding blood, and the more men a knight killed, the more blood he shed, the greater was his fame. it was impossible for a man to live in the world and be at peace with his fellows. so when he desired peace he had to cut himself off from the world and all who lived in it, and go to live like a hermit in some lonely cave, or wander as a pilgrim in desolate places. and so it was with guy. whittington and his cat adapted by ernest rhys in the reign of the famous king edward iii. there was a little boy called dick whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left a ragged little fellow, running about a country village. as poor dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread. for all this dick whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always listening to what everybody talked about. on sunday he was sure to get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the churchyard, before the parson came; and once a week you might see little dick leaning against the sign-post of the village alehouse, where people stopped to drink as they came from the next market town; and when the barber's shop door was open, dick listened to all the news that his customers told one another. in this manner dick heard a great many very strange things about the great city called london; for the foolish country people at that time thought that folks in london were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold. one day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while dick was standing by the sign-post. he thought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of london; so he took courage, and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the side of the wagon. as soon as the wagoner heard that poor dick had no father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they set off together. i could never find out how little dick contrived to get meat and drink on the road; nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way; nor what he did at night for a place to lie down to sleep in. perhaps some good-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they saw he was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and perhaps the wagoner let him get into the wagon at night, and take a nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in the wagon. dick, however, got safe to london, and was in such a hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that i am afraid he did not even stay to thank the kind wagoner; but ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were paved with gold; for dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for. poor dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the wagoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark corner and cried himself to sleep. little dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals. at last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. "why don't you go to work, my lad?" said he to dick. "that i would, but i do not know how to get any," answered dick. "if you are willing, come along with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made. after this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the door of mr. fitzwarren, a rich merchant. here he was soon seen by the cook, who was an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy preparing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor dick: "what business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; i have some here hot enough to make you jump." just at that time mr. fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "why do you lie there, my boy? you seem old enough to work; i am afraid you are inclined to be lazy." "no, indeed, sir," said dick to him, "that is not the case, for i would work with all my heart, but i do not know anybody, and i believe i am very sick for the want of food." "poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you." dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. so the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he was able to do for the cook. little dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scolding him from morning to night, and besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor dick's head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. at last her ill-usage of him was told to alice, mr. fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder. the ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides this dick had another hardship to get over. his bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented with rats and mice. a gentleman having given dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. the next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her if she would let him have it for a penny. the girl said she would, and at the same time told him the cat was an excellent mouser. dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night. soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as he thought it right that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as well as himself, he called them all into the parlor and asked them what they would send out. they all had something that they were willing to venture except poor dick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing. for this reason he did not come into the parlor with the rest; but miss alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. she then said she would lay down some money for him, from her own purse; but the father told her this would not do, for it must be something of his own. when poor dick heard this, he said he had nothing but a cat which he bought for a penny some time since of a little girl. "fetch your cat then, my good boy," said mr. fitzwarren, "and let her go." dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain; for he said he should now be kept awake again all night by the rats and mice. all the company laughed at dick's odd venture; and miss alice, who felt pity for the poor boy, gave him some money to buy another cat. this, and many other marks of kindness shown him by miss alice made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea. she asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much money as would buy a stick to beat him. at last poor dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things, and started very early in the morning, on all-hallow's, which is the first of november. he walked as far as holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called whittington's stone, and began to think to himself which road he should take as he went onwards. while he was thinking what he should do, the bells of bow church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him: "turn again, whittington, lord mayor of london." "lord mayor of london!" said he to himself. "why, to be sure, i would put up with almost anything now, to be lord mayor of london, and ride in a fine coach, when i grow to be a man! well, i will go back, and think nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if i am to be lord mayor of london at last." dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about his work, before the old cook came downstairs. the ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast of barbary, where the only people were the moors, that the english had never known before. the people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, who were of different color to themselves, and treated them very civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to buy the fine things that the ship was loaded with. when the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to the king of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he sent for the captain to the palace. here they were placed, as it is the custom of the country, on rich carpets marked with gold and silver flowers. the king and queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. they had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, helping themselves from almost every dish. the captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not very unpleasant. "oh, yes," said they, "very destructive; and the king would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping for fear of them." the captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor whittington and his cat, and told the king he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. the king's heart heaved so high at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his head. "bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, i will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her." the captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of mrs puss. he told his majesty that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship--but to oblige his majesty he would fetch her. "run, run!" said the queen; "i am impatient to see the dear creature." away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. he put puss under his arm, and arrived at the place soon enough to see the table full of rats. when the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out of the captain's arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. the rest of them in their fright scampered away to their holes. the king and queen were quite charmed to get so easily rid of such plagues, and desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness might be brought to them for inspection. upon which the captain called: "pussy, pussy, pussy!" and she came to him. he then presented her to the queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and mice. however, when the captain stroked the cat and called: "pussy, pussy," the queen also touched her and cried "putty, putty," for she had not learned english. he then put her down on the queen's lap, where she, purring, played with her majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep. the king, having seen the exploits of mrs. puss, and being informed that her kittens would stock the whole country, bargained with the captain for the whole ship's cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to. the captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair wind for england, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in london. one morning mr. fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. "who's there?" said mr. fitzwarren. "a friend," answered the other; "i come to bring you good news of your ship unicorn." the merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage. they then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the king and queen had sent for her to poor dick. as soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to his servants, "go fetch him--we will tell him of the same; pray call him mr. whittington by name." mr. fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was too much for dick, he answered: "god forbid i should deprive him of the value of a single penny." he then sent for dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty. mr. fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think they were making game of him, at the same time begging them not to play tricks with a poor simple boy, but to let him go down again, if they pleased, to his work. "indeed, mr. whittington," said the merchant, "we are all quite in earnest with you, and i most heartily rejoice in the news these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the king of barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than i possess in the whole world; and i wish you may long enjoy them!" mr. fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had brought with him; and said: "mr. whittington has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety." poor dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. he begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness. "no, no," answered mr. fitzwarren, "this is all your own; and i have no doubt but you will use it well." dick next asked his mistress, and then miss alice, to accept a part of his good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good success. but this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate, and the rest of mr. fitzwarren's servants; and even to the ill-natured old cook. after this mr. fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tradesman and get himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he could provide himself with a better. when whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at mr. fitzwarren's; so that miss alice, who had once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents that could be. mr. fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. a day for the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the lord mayor, the court aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the richest merchants in london, whom they afterwards treated with a very rich feast. history tells us that mr. whittington and his lady lived in great splendor, and were very happy. they had several children. he was sheriff of london, also mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by henry v. the figure of sir richard whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year over the archway of the old prison of newgate, that stood across newgate street. tom hickathrift adapted by ernest rhys long before william the conqueror, there dwelt a man in the isle of ely, named thomas hickathrift, a poor laboring man, but so strong that he was able to do in one day the ordinary work of two. he had an only son, whom he christened thomas, after his own name. the old man put his son to good learning, but he would take none, for he was none of the wisest, but something soft, and had no docility at all in him. god calling this good man, the father, to his rest, his mother, being tender of him, kept him by her hard labor as well as she could; but this was no easy matter, for tom would sit all day in the chimney-corner, instead of doing anything to help her, and although at the time we were speaking of he was only ten years old, he would eat more than four or five ordinary men, and was five feet and a half in height, and two feet and a half broad. his hand was more like a shoulder of mutton than a boy's hand, and he was altogether like a little monster; but yet his great strength was not known. tom's strength came to be known in this manner: his mother, it seems, as well as himself, for they lived in the days of merry old england, slept upon straw. now, being a tidy old creature, she must every now and then have a new bed, and one day having been promised a bottle of straw by a neighboring farmer, after much begging she got her son to fetch it. tom, however, made her borrow a cart-rope first, before he would budge a step, without saying what he wanted it for; but the poor woman, too glad to gain his help upon any terms, let him have it at once. tom, swinging the rope round his shoulder went to the farmer's, and found him with two men threshing in a barn. having told what he wanted, the farmer said he might take as much straw as he could carry. tom at once took him at his word, and, placing the rope in a right position, rapidly made up a bundle containing at least a cartload, the men jeering at him all the while. their merriment, however, did not last long, for tom flung the enormous bundle over his shoulders, and walked away with it without any difficulty, and left them all gaping after him. after this exploit tom was no longer allowed to be idle. every one tried to secure his services, and we are told many tales of his mighty strength. on one occasion, having been offered as great a bundle of fire wood as he could carry, he marched off with one of the largest trees in the forest. tom was also extremely fond of attending fairs; and in cudgeling, wrestling, or throwing the hammer, there was no one who could compete with him. he thought nothing of flinging a huge hammer into the middle of a river a mile off, and, in fact, performed such extraordinary feats, that the folk began to have a fear of him. at length a brewer at lynn, who required a strong lusty fellow to carry his beer to the marsh and to wisbeach, after much persuasion, and promising him a new suit of clothes and as much as he liked to eat and drink, secured tom for his business. the distance he daily traveled with the beer was upwards of twenty miles, for although there was a shorter cut through the marsh, no one durst go that way for fear of a monstrous giant, who was lord of a portion of the district, and who killed or made slaves of every one he could lay his hands upon. now, in the course of time, tom was thoroughly tired of going such a roundabout way, and without telling his plans to any one, he resolved to pass through the giant's domain, or lose his life in the attempt. this was a bold undertaking, but good living had so increased tom's strength and courage, that venturesome as he was before, his hardiness was so much increased that he would have faced a still greater danger. he accordingly drove his cart in the forbidden direction, flinging the gates wide open, as if for the purpose of making his daring more plain to be seen. at length he was espied by the giant, who was in a rage at his boldness, but consoled himself by thinking that tom and the beer would soon become his prey. "sir," said the monster, "who gave you permission to come this way? do you not know how i make all stand in fear of me? and you, like an impudent rogue, must come and fling my gates open at your pleasure! are you careless of your life? do not you care what you do? but i will make you an example for all rogues under the sun! dost thou not see how many thousand heads hang upon yonder tree--heads of those who have offended against my laws? but thy head shall hang higher than all the rest for an example!" but tom made him answer: "you shall not find me to be one of them." "no!" said the giant, in astonishment and indignation; "and what a fool you must be if you come to fight with such a one as i am, and bring never a weapon to defend yourself!" quoth tom, "i have a weapon here that will make you know you are a traitorous rogue." this speech highly incensed the giant, who immediately ran to his cave for his club, intending to dash out tom's brains at one blow. tom was now much distressed for a weapon, as by some chance he had forgot one, and he began to reflect how very little his whip would help him against a monster twelve feet in height and six feet round the waist. but while the giant was gone for his club, tom bethought himself, and turning his cart upside down, adroitly took out the axletree, which would serve him for a staff, and removing a wheel, fitted it to his arm instead of a shield--very good weapons indeed in time of trouble, and worthy of tom's wit. when the monster returned with his club, he was amazed to see the weapons with which tom had armed himself; but uttering a word of defiance, he bore down upon the poor fellow with such heavy strokes that it was as much as tom could do to defend himself with his wheel. tom, however, at length cut the giant such a blow with the axletree on the side of his head, that he nearly reeled over. "what!" said tom, "have you drunk of my strong beer already?" this inquiry did not, as we may suppose, mollify the giant, who laid on his blows so sharply and heavily that tom was obliged to defend himself. by-and-by, not making any impression on the wheel, the giant grew tired, and was obliged to ask tom if he would let him drink a little, and then he would fight again. "no," said tom, "my mother did not teach me that wit: who would be fool then?" the end may readily be imagined; tom having beaten the giant, cut off his head, and entered the cave, which he found completely filled with gold and silver. the news of this victory rapidly spread throughout the country, for the giant had been a common enemy to the people about. they made bonfires for joy, and showed their respect to tom by every means in their power. a few days afterwards tom took possession of the cave and all the giant's treasure. he pulled down the former, and built a magnificent house on the spot; but as for the land stolen by the giant, part of it he gave to the poor for their common, merely keeping enough for himself and his good old mother, jane hickathrift. tom was now a great man and a hero with all the country folk, so that when any one was in danger or difficulty, it was to tom hickathrift he must turn. it chanced that about this time many idle and rebellious persons drew themselves together in and about the isle of ely, and set themselves to defy the king and all his men. by this time, you must know, tom hickathrift had secured to himself a trusty friend and comrade, almost his equal in strength and courage, for though he was but a tinker, yet he was a great and lusty one. now the sheriff of the country came to tom, under cover of night, full of fear and trembling, and begged his aid and protection against the rebels, "else," said he, "we be all dead men!" tom, nothing loth, called his friend the tinker, and as soon as it was day, led by the sheriff, they went out armed with their clubs to the place where the rebels were gathered together. when they were got thither, tom and the tinker marched up to the leaders of the band, and asked them why they were set upon breaking the king's peace. to this they answered loudly, "our will is our law, and by that alone we will be governed!" "nay," quoth tom, "if it be so, these trusty clubs are our weapons, and by them alone you shall be chastised." these words were no sooner uttered than they madly rushed on the throng of men, bearing all before them, and laying twenty or thirty sprawling with every blow. the tinker struck off heads with such violence that they flew like balls for miles about, and when tom had slain hundreds and so broken his trusty club, he laid hold of a lusty raw-boned miller and made use of him as a weapon till he had quite cleared the field. if tom hickathrift had been a hero before, he was twice a hero now. when the king heard of it all, he sent for him to be knighted, and when he was sir thomas hickathrift nothing would serve him but that he must be married to a great lady of the country. so married he was, and a fine wedding they had of it. there was a great feast given, to which all the poor widows for miles round were invited, because of tom's mother, and rich and poor feasted together. among the poor widows who came was an old woman called stumbelup, who with much ingratitude stole from the great table a silver tankard. but she had not got safe away before she was caught and the people were so enraged at her wickedness that they nearly hanged her. however, sir tom had her rescued, and commanded that she should be drawn on a wheelbarrow through the streets and lanes of cambridge, holding a placard in her hand on which was written-- "i am the naughty stumbelup, who tried to steal the silver cup." heroes of scandinavia the story of frithiof adapted by julia goddard i in a cottage overshadowed by wide-spreading oaks, and surrounded by a garden in which bloomed the sweetest flowers of summer, lived an aged peasant named hilding. two children might be seen playing about the garden from sunrise to sunset, but they were not old hilding's children. the handsome boy was the son of the thane thorsten vikingsson; the little girl, with dove-like eyes and silken tresses, was the daughter of good king belé. together the little ones played through the long pleasant days in their foster-father's garden, or wandered through the woods, or climbed the hills that sheltered them from the northern winds. the boy would seek treasures from the birds' nests for his fair companion, not even fearing to rob the mountain eagle, so that he might bring the spoil to ingebjorg. he would also take her far out on the blue sea in his little boat, and ingebjorg never felt afraid as long as frithiof was with her. as frithiof grew older, he became a great hunter, and once he slew without weapons a fierce bear, which he brought home in triumph and laid at ingebjorg's feet. during the winter evenings, they sat by the blazing logs on the hearth, and hilding told them wonderful stories of asgard and all its glories, of odin the king of the gods, and of the beautiful frigga. but frithiof thought she could not be half so beautiful as ingebjorg. and once he said so to her, and it pleased her exceedingly. and he said, moreover, that when he was a man, ingebjorg should be his wife. this also she was glad to hear, for she loved frithiof better than any one in the world. but old hilding told them not to talk nonsense, for ingebjorg was a king's daughter, and frithiof but the son of a thane. ii in a room of his palace stood king belé. he was leaning on his sword, musing over all that was past, and thinking of the future. he was an old man, and he felt that his strength was failing him. with him was his faithful friend thorsten vikingsson. they had grown up to manhood together, they had fought in many a battle side by side. they had been companions at many a feast and revel; and now, when old age had fallen upon them, they drew closer to one another, feeling that the hand of death was raised to summon them into another world. "the end of life is near," said the king; "the shadow of death is cast upon me. no longer do i care for all that men call pleasure. the chase hath lost its charm, the helmet sits heavy upon my brow, and the mead hath lost its flavor. i would that my sons were here so that i might give them my blessing." then the servants summoned to king belé's presence his two sons, helgi and halfdan. dark was the countenance of helgi, and there was blood upon his hands, for he had just been assisting at the midday sacrifice. but the face of halfdan was bright as the early morning, and he was as light and joyous as his brother was dark and gloomy. frithiof also came, for the thane thorsten vikingsson desired to see him, that he too might bless his son when king belé blessed the royal princes. and the two old friends spoke words of wisdom to their children, and prayed that the gods might be with them in peace and war, in joy and sorrow, and grant them a long life and a glorious death. and when their counsels and prayers were ended, king belé said, "and now, o sons, i bid you remember, in that day when death shall claim me and my faithful friend, that ye lay our bones side by side near the shore of the great ocean." iii in due time, king belé died, and helgi and halfdan shared his kingdom between them. thorsten vikingsson died also, and frithiof became lord of his ancestral home of framnäs. rich treasures did that home contain, three of them of magic power. the first was the sword of angurvadel. blood-red it shone in time of war, and wo to him who contended with its owner on the battle-field. next was an arm-ring of pure gold, made by the god völund, and given by him to one of thorsten vikingsson's forefathers. once it was stolen and carried to england by the viking soté, but thorsten and his friend king belé pursued the robber. over the sea they sailed after the viking, and landed at a lonely place where the rocks reared up their sharp points and made the coast dangerous. there were deep caverns which the waters filled when the tide was up, so lone and dark that men were almost afraid to go into them. but thorsten vikingsson and the king his master were not daunted. hither had they come after the pirate, and here it was that he had last been heard of; and they searched along the shore and in the caves, and peered into every hole and cranny, until their eyes grew strained and heavy, but no viking soté was to be seen. they had almost given up hope of finding him, when, looking through a chink that had hitherto escaped their notice, a fearful sight was seen by the valiant thane. within a mighty vault, forming a still, cold tomb, there lay a vessel all complete, with masts and spars and anchor; and on the deck there sat a grim skeleton clad in a robe of flame, and on his skinless arm glittered the golden arm-ring wrought by völund. the figure held in his left hand a blood-stained sword, from which he was trying to scour away the stains. "it is my arm-ring," said thorsten vikingsson; "it is the spirit of the viking soté." and forthwith he forced his way into the tomb, and, after a deadly conflict with the specter, regained his treasure. and the two friends sailed home in triumph. the third great thing that frithiof inherited was the dragon-ship "ellide," which his forefathers had won in the following manner: one of them, a rough, rude viking, with a tender heart, was out at sea, and on a wreck that was fast sinking saw an old man with green locks sitting disconsolately. the good-natured viking picked him up, took him home, gave him of the best of food and of sparkling mead, and would have lodged him in his house; but the green-haired man said he could not tarry, for he had many miles to sail that night. "but when the sun comes up in the east," added the stranger, "look for a thank-gift on the wild seashore." and behold, as morning dawned, the viking saw a goodly vessel making gallant headway. as she drew near the land with streamer flying and broad sails flapping in the wind, the viking saw that there was no soul on board of her; and yet, without steersman to guide her, the vessel avoided the shoals and held her way straight to the spot where he was standing. her prow was a dragon's head, a dragon's tail formed her stern, and dragon's wings bore her along swifter than an eagle before the storm. the green-haired stranger was a sea-god, and the dragon-ship "ellide" was his thank-gift. thus frithiof, though only the son of a thane, had treasures that might have been coveted by kings and princes. he sat in his father's halls, surrounded by his companions; upon his right was seated his bosom friend bjorn, and twelve bold champions clad in steel were ranged around the board. and they drank in silence to the memory of thorsten vikingsson. but suddenly the harps struck up, and the skalds poured forth their songs in honor of the dead thane. and frithiof's eyes filled with tears as he listened to his father's praises. iv in spite of frithiof's wealth, helgi and halfdan looked with disdain upon the son of their father's friend; and when frithiof asked to have ingebjorg for his wife, helgi scornfully answered, "my sister shall not wed the son of a thane. if you like to be our serf, we will make room for you among our servants." then went frithiof away in wrath. there was another suitor for the hand of ingebjorg, good old king ring, who, having lost his wife, thought that the lily of the north would make a tender mother for his little son. and he sent to helgi and halfdan to ask for ingebjorg in marriage, but the brothers treated him as they had treated frithiof; and the old king was roused, and he swore he would revenge himself. helgi and halfdan were afraid when they found that ring was really making ready for war. they began to get their army into order, and placed ingebjorg for safety in the temple of baldur, and in their distress they even sent to frithiof to ask him to come and help them. they chose wisely in the messenger they sent to plead for them, for it was none other than old hilding, who had been so kind to frithiof in his childhood. frithiof was playing at chess with bjorn when hilding arrived. he pretended not to hear the message, and went on with his game. "shall the pawn save the king?" he asked of bjorn. and after a time he added: "there is no other way to save the queen." which showed that he had been all the time occupied with hilding's errand. therefore he returned with the old peasant, and contrived to see ingebjorg in the temple of baldur, and found that she still loved him as much as he loved her, and did not wish to marry any one else. and again he asked helgi and halfdan if they were willing that ingebjorg should be his wife. and again the brothers said, nay, with scorn, and told him that he had profaned the temple of baldur by speaking to ingebjorg within its walls. "for such a misdeed," said helgi, "death or banishment is the doom, and thou art in our power. nevertheless, we are willing, as we wish to make thee useful to us, to forego the penalty. thou shalt therefore sail forth to the distant orkney isles, and compel jarl angantyr to pay the tribute that he owes us." frithiof would have refused to go, but ingebjorg persuaded him to undertake the mission; for she was afraid of her brothers, and knew that frithiof would be safer on the wild seas than in their hands. at last frithiof consented, and he took leave of ingebjorg, and placed the golden bracelet that völund had made upon her arm, praying her to keep it for his sake. and then he sailed away over the heaving waters, and ingebjorg mourned that her lover was gone. v over the sea. it was calm enough when frithiof started; the storm-winds were asleep, and the waters heaved gently as though they would fain help speed the dragon-ship peacefully on her way. but king helgi standing on a rock repented that he had suffered the noble frithiof to escape his malice; and as he watched the good ship "ellide" riding over the sea, he prayed loudly to the ocean-fiends that they would trouble the waters and raise a fierce tempest to swallow up frithiof and the dragon-ship. all at once, the sparkling sea turned leaden gray, and the billows began to roll, the skies grew dark, and the howl of the driving wind was answered by a sullen roar from the depths beneath. suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning played around the vessel, and as it vanished the pealing thunder burst from the clouds. the raging sea foamed, and seethed, and tossed the vessel like a feather upon its angry waves, and deeper sounded the thunder, and more fiercely flashed the lightning round the masts. wilder, wilder, wilder grew the storm. alas, for frithiof! "ho! take the tiller in hand," shouted frithiof to bjorn. "and i will mount to the topmost mast and look out for danger'" and when he looked out, he saw the storm-fiends riding on a whale. one was in form like to a great white bear, the other like unto a terrible eagle. "now help me, o gift of the sea-god! help me, my gallant 'ellide'!" cried frithiof. and the dragon-ship heard her master's voice, and with her keel she smote the whale; so he died, and sank to the bottom of the sea, leaving the storm-fiends tossing upon the waves. "ho, spears and lances, help me in my need!" shouted frithiof, as he took aim at the monsters. and he transfixed the shrieking storm-fiends, and left them entangled in the huge coils of seaweed which the storm had uprooted. "ho, ho!" laughed rugged bjorn, "they are trapped in their own nets." and so they were; and they were so much taken up with trying to free themselves from the seaweed and from frithiof's long darts, that they were unable to give any heed to the storm, which therefore went down, and frithiof and his crew sailed on, and reached the orkney isles in safety. "here comes frithiof," said the viking atlé. "i know him by his dragon-ship." and forthwith the viking rose and went forth; he had heard of the strength of frithiof, and wished to match himself against him. he did not wait to see whether frithiof came in enmity or friendship. fighting was the first thing he thought of, and what he most cared for. however, the viking had the worst of it in the battle. "there is witchcraft in thy sword," said he to frithiof. so frithiof threw his sword aside, and they wrestled together, unarmed, until atlé was brought to the ground. then spake frithiof: "and if i had my sword thou wouldst not long be a living man." "fetch it, then," replied atlé. "i swear by the gods that i will not move until thou dost return." so frithiof fetched his sword, but when he saw the conquered viking still upon the ground, he could not bring himself to slay so honorable a man. "thou art too true and brave to die," said frithiof. "rise, let us be friends." and the two combatants went hand in hand to the banquet hall of angantyr, jarl (earl) of the orkney islands. a splendid hall it was, and a rare company of heroes was there; and all listened eagerly as frithiof told his story, and wherefore he had come. "i never paid tribute to king belé, though he was an old friend of mine," said the jarl, as frithiof ended his speech, "nor will i to his sons. if they want aught of me, let them come and take it." "it was by no choice of my own that i came upon such an errand," returned frithiof, "and i shall be well content to carry back your answer." "take also this purse of gold in token of friendship," continued the jarl, "and remain with us, for i knew thy father." thus frithiof and the jarl became good friends, and frithiof consented to stay for a while in the orkney islands; but after a time he ordered out his good ship "ellide," and set sail for his native land. vi but fearful things had come to pass since he had left his home! framnäas, the dwelling of his fathers, was a heap of ruins, and the land was waste and desolate. and as he stood upon the well-loved spot, striving to find some traces of the past, his faithful hound bounded forth to greet him, and licked his master's hand. and then his favorite steed drew near, and thrust his nose into frithiof's hand, hoping to find therein a piece of bread, as in the days of old. his favorite falcon perched upon his shoulder, and this was frithiof's welcome to the home of his ancestors. there had been a fierce battle, for king ring with his army had come against helgi and halfdan, and the country had been laid waste, and many warriors slain. and when all chance of withstanding him was at an end, the brothers, rather than lose their kingdom, had consented that ingebjorg should be the wife of ring. ingebjorg was married! frithiof's heart was full of deep sorrow, and he turned his steps towards the temple of baldur, hoping that at the altar of the god he might meet with consolation. in the temple he found king helgi, and the sorrow that was weighing down frithiof's heart gave place to hatred and revenge. caring nothing for the sacred place, he rushed madly forward. "here, take thy tribute," said he, and he threw the purse that jarl angantyr had given him with such force against the face of the king that helgi fell down senseless on the steps of the altar. next, seeing his arm-ring on the arm of the statue, for helgi had taken it from ingebjorg and placed it there, he tried to tear it off, and, lo! the image tottered and fell upon the fire that was burning with sweet perfumes before it. scarcely had it touched the fire when it was ablaze, and the flames spreading rapidly on every side, the whole temple was soon a smoldering heap of ruins. then frithiof sought his ship. he vowed that he would lead a viking's life, and leave forever a land where he had suffered so much sorrow. and he put out to sea. but no sooner were his sails spread than he saw ten vessels in chase of him, and on the deck of one stood helgi, who had been rescued from the burning temple, and had come in chase of him. yet frithiof was rescued from the danger as if by miracle; for one by one the ships sank down as though some water-giant had stretched out his strong arm, and dragged them below, and helgi only saved himself by swimming ashore. loud laughed bjorn. "i bored holes in the ships last night," said he; "it is a rare ending to helgi's fleet." "and now," said frithiof, "i will forever lead a viking's life. i care not for aught upon the land. the sea shall be my home. and i will seek climes far away from here." so he steered the good ship "ellide" southward, and among the isles of greece strove to forget the memories of bygone days. vii in and out of the sunny islands that lay like studs of emerald on a silver shield sailed frithiof, and on the deck of the dragon-ship he rested through the summer nights, looking up at the moon, and wondering what she could tell him of the northern land. sometimes he dreamed of his home as it was before the wartime. sometimes he dreamed of the days when he and ingebjorg roamed through the fields and woods together, or listened to old hilding's stories by the blazing hearth; and then he would wake up with a start and stroke his faithful hound, who was ever near him, saying, "thou alone knowest no change; to thee all is alike, so long as thy master is with thee." one night, however, as frithiof was musing on the deck of his vessel, gazing into the cloudless sky, a vision of the past rose up before him: old familiar faces crowded round him, and in their midst he marked one, best beloved of all, pale, sad, with sorrowful eyes; and her lips moved, and he seemed to hear her say, "i am very sad without thee, frithiof." then a great longing came upon frithiof to see ingebjorg once more. he would go northward, even to the country of king ring; he must see ingebjorg. what did he care for danger? he must go. to the cold, dark north. yet he dared not go openly, for king ring looked upon him as an enemy, and would seize him at once, and if he did not kill him would shut him up in prison, so that either way he would not see the beautiful queen. frithiof. therefore disguised himself as an old man, and wrapped in bearskins, presented himself at the palace. the old king sat upon his throne, and at his side was ingebjorg the fair, looking like spring by the side of fading autumn. as the strangely dressed figure passed along, the courtiers jeered, and frithiof, thrown off his guard, angrily seized one of them, and twirled him round with but little effort. "ho!" said the king, "thou art a strong old man, o stranger! whence art thou?" "i was reared in anguish and want," returned frithiof; "sorrow has filled a bitter cup for me, and i have almost drunk it to the dregs. once i rode upon a dragon, but now it lies dead upon the seashore, and i am left in my old age to burn salt upon the strand." "thou art not old," answered the wise king; "thy voice is clear, and thy grasp is strong. throw off thy rude disguise, that we may know our guest." then frithiof threw aside his bearskin, and appeared clad in a mantle of blue embroidered velvet, and his hair fell like a golden wave upon his shoulder. ring did not know him, but ingebjorg did; and when she handed the goblet for him to drink, her color went and came "like to the northern light on a field of snow." and frithiof stayed at the court, until the year came round again, and spring once more put forth its early blossoms. one day a gay hunting train went forth, but old king ring, not being strong, as in former years, lay down to rest upon the mossy turf beneath some arching pines, while the hunters rode on. then frithiof drew near, and in his heart wild thoughts arose. one blow of his sword, and ingebjorg was free to be his wife. but as he looked upon the sleeping king, there came a whisper from a better voice, "it is cowardly to strike a sleeping foe." and frithiof shuddered, for he was too brave a man to commit murder. "sleep on, old man," he muttered gently to himself. but ring's sleep was over. he started up. "o frithiof why hast thou come hither to steal an old man's bride?" "i came not hither for so dark a purpose," answered frithiof; "i came but to look on the face of my loved ingebjorg once more." "i know it," replied the king; "i have tried thee, i have proved thee, and true as tried steel hast thou passed through the furnace. stay with us yet a little longer, the old man soon will be gathered to his fathers, then shall his kingdom and his wife be thine." but frithiof replied that he had already remained too long, and that on the morrow he must depart. yet he went not; for death had visited the palace, and old king ring was stretched upon his bier, while the bards around sang of his wisdom. then arose a cry among the people, "we must choose a king!" and frithiof raised aloft upon his shield the little son of ring. "here is your king," he said, "the son of wise old ring." the blue-eyed child laughed and clapped his hands as he beheld the glittering helmets and glancing spears of the warriors. then tired of his high place, he sprang down into the midst of them. loud uprose the shout, "the child shall be our king, and the jarl frithiof regent. hail to the young king of the northmen!" viii but frithiof in the hour of his good fortune did not forget that he had offended the gods. he must make atonement to baldur for having caused the ruin of his temple. he must turn his steps once more homeward. home! home! and on his father's grave he sank down with a softened heart, and grieved over the passion and revenge that had swayed his deeds. and as he mourned, the voices of unseen spirits answered him, and whispered that he was forgiven. and to his wondering eyes a vision was vouchsafed, and the temple of baldur appeared before him, rebuilt in more than its ancient splendor, and deep peace sank into the soul of frithiof. "rise up, rise up, frithiof, and journey onward." the words came clear as a command to frithiof, and he obeyed them. he rose up, and journeyed to the place where he had left the temple a heap of blackened ruins. and, lo! the vision that had appeared to him was accomplished, for there stood the beautiful building, stately and fair to look upon. so beautiful, that, as he gazed, his thoughts were of valhalla. he entered, and the white-robed, silver-bearded priest welcomed the long-absent viking, and told him that helgi was dead, and halfdan reigned alone. "and know, o frithiof," said the aged man, "that baldur is better pleased when the heart grows soft and injuries are forgiven, than with the most costly sacrifices. lay aside forever all thoughts of hatred and revenge, and stretch out to halfdan the hand of friendship." joy had softened all frithiofs feelings of anger, and, advancing to halfdan, who was standing near the altar, he spoke out manfully. "halfdan," he said, "let us forget the years that have gone by. let all past evil and injury be buried in the grave. henceforth let us be as brothers, and once more i ask thee, give me ingebjorg to be my wife." and halfdan made answer, "thou shalt be my brother." and as he spoke, an inner door flew open, and a sweet chorus of youthful voices was heard. a band of maidens issued forth, and at their head walked ingebjorg, fairer than ever. then halfdan, leading her to frithiof, placed her hand within that of the viking. "behold thy wife," said halfdan. "well hast thou won her. may the gods attend upon your bridal." so ingebjorg became the wife of frithiof at last. thus steps of sorrow had but led them to a height of happiness that poets love to sing. paths thick with thorns had blossomed into roses, and wreaths of everlasting flowers had crowned the winter snows. and midst the lights and shadows of the old northland, their lives flowed on like to two united streams that roll through quiet pastures to the ocean of eternity. havelok adapted by george w. cox and e.h. jones there was once a king of england named athelwold. earl, baron, thane, knight, and bondsman, all loved him; for he set on high the wise and the just man, and put down the spoiler and the robber. at that time a man might carry gold about with him, as much as fifty pounds, and not fear loss. traders and merchants bought and sold at their ease without danger of plunder. but it was bad for the evil person and for such as wrought shame, for they had to lurk and hide away from the king's wrath; yet was it unavailing, for he searched out the evil-doer and punished him, wherever he might be. the fatherless and the widow found a sure friend in the king; he turned not away from the complaint of the helpless, but avenged them against the oppressor, were he never so strong. kind was he to the poor, neither at any time thought he the fine bread upon his own table too good to give to the hungry. but a death-sickness fell on king athelwold, and when he knew that his end was near he was greatly troubled, for he had one little daughter of tender age, named goldborough, and he grieved to leave her. "o my little daughter, heir to all the land, yet so young thou canst not walk upon it; so helpless that thou canst not tell thy wants and yet hast need to give commandment like a queen! for myself i would not care, being old and not afraid to die. but i had hoped to live till thou shouldst be of age to wield the kingdom; to see thee ride on horseback through the land, and round about a thousand knights to do thy bidding. alas, my little child, what will become of thee when i am gone?" then king athelwold summoned his earls and barons, from roxborough to dover, to come and take counsel with him as he lay a-dying on his bed at winchester. and when they all wept sore at seeing the king so near his end, he said, "weep not, good friends, for since i am brought to death's door your tears can in nowise deliver me; but rather give me your counsel. my little daughter that after me shall be your queen; tell me in whose charge i may safely leave both her and england till she be grown of age to rule?" and with one accord they answered him, "in the charge of earl godrich of cornwall, for he is a right wise and a just man, and held in fear of all the land. let him be ruler till our queen be grown." then the king sent for a fair linen cloth, and thereon having laid the mass-book and the chalice and the paton, he made earl godrich swear upon the holy bread and wine to be a true and faithful guardian of his child, without blame or reproach, tenderly to entreat her, and justly to govern the realm till she should be twenty winters old; then to seek out the best, the bravest, and the strongest man as husband for her and deliver up the kingdom to her hand. and when earl godrich had so sworn, the king shrived him clean of all his sins. then having received his saviour he folded his hands, saying, "domine, in manus tuas;" and so he died. there was sorrow and mourning among all the people for the death of good king athelwold. many the mass that was sung for him and the psalter that was said for his soul's rest. the bells tolled and the priests sang, and the people wept; and they gave him a kingly burial. then earl godrich began to govern the kingdom; and all the nobles and all the churls, both free and thrall, came and did allegiance to him. he set in all the castles strong knights in whom he could trust, and appointed justices and sheriffs and peace-sergeants in all the shires. so he ruled the country with a firm hand, and not a single wight dare disobey his word, for all england feared him. thus, as the years went on, the earl waxed wonderly strong and very rich. goldborough, the king's daughter, throve and grew up the fairest woman in all the land, and she was wise in all manner of wisdom that is good and to be desired. but when the time drew on that earl godrich should give up the kingdom to her, he began to think within himself--"shall i, that have ruled so long, give up the kingdom to a girl, and let her be queen and lady over me? and to what end? all these strong earls and barons, governed by a weaker hand than mine, would throw off the yolk and split up england into little baronies, evermore fighting betwixt themselves for mastery. there would cease to be a kingdom, and so there would cease to be a queen. she cannot rule it, and she shall not have it. besides, i have a son. him will i teach to rule and make him king." so the earl let his oath go for nothing, and went to winchester where the maiden was, and fetched her away and carried her off to dover to a castle that is by the seashore. therein he shut her up and dressed her in poor clothes, and fed her on scanty fare; neither would he let any of her friends come near her. now there was in denmark a certain king called birkabeyn, who had three children, two daughters and a son. and birkabeyn fell sick, and knowing that death had stricken him, he called for godard, whom he thought his truest friend, and said, "godard, here i commend my children to thee. care for them, i pray thee, and bring them up as befits the children of a king. when the boy is grown and can bear a helm upon his head and wield a spear, i charge thee to make him king of denmark. till then hold my estate and royalty in charge for him." and godard swore to guard the children zealously, and to give up the kingdom to the boy. then birkabeyn died and was buried. but no sooner was the king laid in his grave than godard despised his oath; for he took the children, havelok and his two little sisters, swanborough and helfled, and shut them up in a castle with barely clothes to cover them. and havelok, the eldest, was scarce three years old. one day godard came to see the children, and found them all crying of hunger and cold; and he said angrily, "how now! what is all this crying about?" the boy havelok answered him, "we are very hungry, for we get scarce anything to eat. is there no more corn, that men cannot make bread and give us? we are very hungry." but his little sisters only sat shivering with the cold, and sobbing, for they were too young to be able to speak. the cruel godard cared not. he went to where the little girls sat, and drew his knife, and took them one after another and cut their throats. havelok, seeing this sorry sight, was terribly afraid, and fell down on his knees begging godard to spare his life. so earnestly he pleaded that godard was fain to listen: and listening he looked upon the knife, red with the children's blood; and when he saw the still, dead faces of the little ones he had slain, and looked upon their brother's tearful face praying for life, his cruel courage failed him quite. he laid down the knife. he would that havelok were dead, but feared to slay him for the silence that would come. so the boy pleaded on; and godard stared at him as though his wits were gone; then turned upon his heel and came out from the castle. "yet," he thought, "if i should let him go, one day he may wreak me mischief and perchance seize the crown. but if he dies, my children will be lords of denmark after me." then godard sent for a fisherman whose name was grim, and he said, "grim, you know you are my bondsman. do now my bidding, and to-morrow i shall make thee free and give thee gold and land. take this child with thee to-night when thou goest a fishing, and at moonrise cast him in the sea, with a good anchor fast about his neck to keep him down. to-day i am thy master and the sin is mine. to-morrow thou art free." then grim took up the child and bound him fast, and having thrust a gag into his mouth so that he could not speak, he put him in a bag and took him on his back and carried him home. when grim got home his wife took the bag from off his shoulders and cast it upon the ground within doors; and grim told her of his errand. now as it drew to midnight he said, "rise up, wife, and blow up the fire to light a candle, and get me my clothes, for i must be stirring." but when the woman came into the room where havelok lay, she saw a bright light round the boy's head, like a sunbeam, and she called to her husband to come and see. and when he came they both marveled at the light and what it might mean, for it was very bright and shining. then they unbound havelok and took away the gag, and turning down his shirt they found a king-mark fair and plain upon his right shoulder. "god help us, wife," said grim, "but this is surely the heir of denmark, son of birkabeyn our king! ay, and he shall be king in spite of godard." then grim fell down at the boy's feet and said, "forgive me, my king, that i knew thee not. we are thy subjects and henceforth will feed and clothe thee till thou art grown a man and can bear shield and spear. then deal thou kindly by me and mine, as i shall deal with thee. but fear not godard. he shall never know, and i shall be a bondsman still, for i will never be free till thou, my king, shall set me free." then was havelok very glad, and he sat up and begged for bread. and they hastened and fetched bread and cheese and butter and milk; and for very hunger the boy ate up the whole loaf, for he was well-nigh famished. and after he had eaten, grim made a fair bed and undressed havelok and laid him down to rest, saying, "sleep, my son; sleep fast and sound and have no care, for nought shall harm thee." on the morrow grim went to godard, and telling him he had drowned the boy, asked for his reward. but godard bade him go home and remain a bondsman, and be thankful that he was not hanged for so wicked a deed. after a while grim, beginning to fear that both himself and havelok might be slain, sold all his goods, his corn, and cattle, and fowls, and made ready his little ship, tarring and pitching it till not a seam nor a crack could be found, and setting a good mast and sail therein. then with his wife, his three sons, his two daughters, and havelok, he entered into the ship and sailed away from denmark; and a strong north wind arose and drove the vessel to england, and carried it up the humber so far as lindesay, where it grounded on the sands. grim got out of the boat with his wife and children and havelok, and then drew it ashore. on the shore he built a house of earth and dwelt therein, and from that time the place was called grimsby, after grim. grim did not want for food, for he was a good fisherman both with net and hook, and he would go out in his boat and catch all manner of fish--sturgeons, turbot, salmon, cod, herrings, mackerel, flounders, and lampreys, and he never came home empty-handed. he had four baskets made for himself and his sons, and in these they used to carry the fish to lincoln, to sell them, coming home laden with meat and meal, and hemp and rope to make new nets and lines. thus they lived for twelve years. but havelok saw that grim worked very hard, and being now grown a strong lad, he bethought him "i eat more than grim and all his five children together, and yet do nothing to earn the bread. i will no longer be idle, for it is a shame for a man not to work." so he got grim to let him have a basket like the rest, and next day took it out heaped with fish, and sold them well, bringing home silver money for them. after that he never stopped at home idle. but soon there arose a great dearth, and corn grew so dear that they could not take fish enough to buy bread for all. then havelok, since he needed so much to eat, determined that he would no longer be a burden to the fisherman. so grim made him a coat of a piece of an old sail, and havelok set off to lincoln barefoot to seek for work. it so befell that earl godrich's cook, bertram, wanted a scullion, and took havelok into his service. there was plenty to eat and plenty to do. havelok drew water and chopped wood, and brought twigs to make fires, and carried heavy tubs and dishes, but was always merry and blythe. little children loved to play with him; and grown knights and nobles would stop to talk and laugh with him, although he wore nothing but rags of old sail-cloth which scarcely covered his great limbs, and all admired how fair and strong a man god had made him. the cook liked havelok so much that he bought him new clothes, with shoes and hose; and when havelok put them on, no man in the kingdom seemed his peer for strength and beauty. he was the tallest man in lincoln, and the strongest in england. earl godrich assembled a parliament in lincoln, and afterward held games. strong men and youths came to try for mastery at the game of putting the stone. it was a mighty stone, the weight of an heifer. he was a stalwart man who could lift it to his knee, and few could stir it from the ground. so they strove together, and he who put the stone an inch farther than the rest was to be made champion. but havelok, though he had never seen the like before, took up the heavy stone, and put it twelve feet beyond the rest, and after that none would contend with him. now this matter being greatly talked about, it came to the ears of earl godrich, who bethought him--"did not athelwold bid me marry his daughter to the strongest man alive? in truth, i will marry her to this cook's scullion. that will abase her pride; and when she is wedded to a bondsman she will be powerless to injure me. that will be better than shutting her up; better than killing her." so he sent and brought goldborough to lincoln, and set the bells ringing, and pretended great joy, for he said, "goldborough, i am going to marry thee to the fairest and stalwartest man living." but goldborough answered she would never wed any one but a king. "ay, ay, my girl; and so thou wouldst be queen and lady over me? but thy father made me swear to give thee to the strongest man in england, and that is havelok, the cook's scullion; so willing or not willing to-morrow thou shalt wed." then the earl sent for havelok and said, "master, will you marry?" "not i," said havelok; "for i cannot feed nor clothe a wife. i have no house, no cloth, no victuals. the very clothes i wear do not belong to me, but to bertram the cook, as i do." "so much the better," said the earl; "but thou shalt either wed her that i shall bring thee, or else hang from a tree. so choose." then havelok said he would sooner wed. earl godrich went back to goldborough and threatened her with burning at the stake unless she yielded to his bidding. so, thinking it god's will, the maid consented. and on the morrow they were wed by the archbishop of york, who had come down to the parliament, and the earl told money out upon the mass-book for her dower. now after he was wed, havelok knew not what to do, for he saw how greatly earl godrich hated him. he thought he would go and see grim. when he got to grimsby he found that grim was dead, but his children welcomed havelok and begged him bring his wife thither, since they had gold and silver and cattle. and when goldborough came, they made a feast, sparing neither flesh nor fowl, wine nor ale. and grim's sons and daughters served havelok and goldborough. sorrowfully goldborough lay down at night, for her heart was heavy at thinking she had wedded a bondsman. but as she fretted she saw a light, very bright like a blaze of fire, which came out of havelok's mouth. and she thought, "of a truth but he must be nobly born." then she looked on his shoulder, and saw the king mark, like a fair cross of red gold, and at the same time she heard an angel say-- "goldborough, leave sorrowing, for havelok is a king's son, and shall be king of england and of denmark, and thou queen." then was goldborough glad, and kissed havelok, who, straightway waking, said, "i have had a strange dream. i dreamed i was on a high hill, whence i could see all denmark; and i thought as i looked that it was all mine. then i was taken up and carried over the salt sea to england, and methought i took all the country and shut it within my hand." and goldborough said, "what a good dream is this! rejoice, for it means that thou shalt be king of england and of denmark. take now my counsel and get grim's sons to go with thee to denmark." in the morning havelok went to the church and prayed to god to speed him in his undertaking. then he came home and found grim's three sons just going off fishing. their names were robert the red, william wendut, and hugh raven. he told them who he was, how godard had slain his sisters, and delivered him over to grim to be drowned, and how grim had fled with him to england. then havelok asked them to go with him to denmark, promising to make them rich men. to this they gladly agreed, and having got ready their ship and victualed it, they set sail with havelok and his wife for denmark. the place of their landing was hard by the castle of a danish earl named ubbe, who had been a faithful friend to king birkabeyn. havelok went to earl ubbe, with a gold ring for a present, asking leave to buy and sell goods from town to town in that part of the country. ubbe, beholding the tall, broad-shouldered, thick-chested man, so strong and cleanly made, thought him more fit for a knight than for a peddler. he bade havelok bring his wife and come and eat with him at his table. so havelok went to fetch goldborough, and robert the red and william wendut led her between them till they came to the castle, where ubbe, with a great company of knights, welcomed them gladly. havelok stood a head taller than any of the knights, and when they sat at table ubbe's wife ate with him, and goldborough with ubbe. it was a great feast, and after the feast ubbe sent havelok and his friends to bernard brown, bidding him take care of them till next day. so bernard received the guests and gave them a fine supper. now in the night there came sixty-one thieves to bernard's house. each had a drawn sword and a long knife, and they called to bernard to undo the door. he started up and armed himself, and told them to go away. but the thieves defied him, and with a great boulder broke down the door. then havelok, hearing the din, rose up, and seizing the bar of the door stood on the threshold and threw the door wide open, saying, "come in, i am ready for you!" first came three against him with their swords, but havelok slew these with the door bar at a single blow; the fourth man's crown he broke; he smote the fifth upon the shoulders, the sixth athwart the neck, and the seventh on the breast; so they fell dead. then the rest drew back and began to fling their swords like darts at havelok, till they had wounded him in twenty places. in spite of that, in a little while he had killed a score of the thieves. then hugh raven, waking up, called robert and william wendut. one seized a staff, each of the others a piece of timber as big as his thigh, and bernard his axe, and all three ran out to help havelok. so well did havelok and his fellows fight, breaking ribs and arms and shanks, and cracking crowns, that not a thief of all the sixty-one was left alive. next morning, when ubbe rode past and saw the sixty-one dead bodies, and heard what havelok had done, he sent and brought both him and goldborough to his own castle, and fetched a leech to tend his wounds, and would not hear of his going away; for, said he, "this man is better than a thousand knights." now that same night, after he had gone to bed, ubbe awoke about midnight and saw a great light shining from the chamber where havelok and goldborough lay. he went softly to the door and peeped in to see what it meant. they were lying fast asleep, and the light was streaming from havelok's mouth. ubbe went and called his knights, and they also came in and saw this marvel. it was brighter than a hundred burning tapers; bright enough to count money by. havelok lay on his left side with his back towards them, uncovered to the waist; and they saw the king-mark on his right shoulder sparkle like shining gold and carbuncle. then knew they that it was king birkabeyn's son, and seeing how like he was to his father, they wept for joy. thereupon havelok awoke, and all fell down and did him homage, saying he should be their king. on the morrow ubbe sent far and wide and gathered together earl and baron, dreng [servant] and thane, clerk, knight and burgess, and told them all the treason of godard, and how havelok had been nurtured and brought up by grim in england. then he showed them their king, and the people shouted for joy at having so fair and strong a man to rule them. and first ubbe sware fealty to havelok, and after him the others both great and small. and the sheriffs and constables and all that held castles in town or burg came out and promised to be faithful to him. then ubbe drew his sword and dubbed havelok a knight, and set a crown upon his head and made him king. and at the crowning they held merry sports--jousting with sharp spears, tilting at the shield, wrestling, and putting the shot. there were harpers and pipers and gleemen with their tabors; and for forty days a feast was held with rich meats in plenty and the wine flowed like water. and first the king made robert and william wendut and hugh raven barons, and gave them land and fee. then when the feast was done, he set out with a thousand knights and five thousand sergeants to seek for godard. godard was a-hunting with a great company of men, and robert riding on a good steed found him and bade him to come to the king. godard smote him and set on his knights to fight with robert and the king's men. they fought till ten of godard's men were slain; the rest began to flee. "turn again, o knights!" cried godard; "i have fed you and shall feed you yet. forsake me not in such a plight." so they turned about and fought again. but the king's men slew every one of them, and took godard and bound him and brought him to havelok. then king havelok summoned all his nobles to sit in judgment and say what should be done to such a traitor. and they said, "let him be dragged to the gallows at the mare's tail, and hanged by the heels in fetters, with this writing over him: 'this is he that drove the king out of the land, and took the life of the king's sisters.'" so godard suffered his doom, and none pitied him. then havelok gave his scepter into earl ubbe's hand to rule denmark on his behalf, and after that took ship and came to grimsby, where he built a priory for black monks to pray evermore for the peace of grim's soul. but when earl godrich understood that havelok and his wife were come to england, he gathered together a great army at lincoln on the th of march, and came to grimsby to fight with havelok and his knights. it was a great battle, wherein more than a thousand knights were slain. the field was covered with pools of blood. hugh raven and his brothers, robert and william, did valiantly and slew many earls; but terrible was earl godrich to the danes, for his sword was swift and deadly. havelok came to him and reminding him of the oath he sware to athelwold that goldborough should be queen, bade him yield the land. but godrich defied him, and running forward with his heavy sword cut havelok's shield in two. then havelok smote him to the earth with a blow upon the helm; but godrich arose and wounded him upon the shoulder, and havelok, smarting with the cut, ran upon his enemy and hewed off his right hand. then he took earl godrich and bound him and sent him to the queen. and when the english knew that goldborough was the heir of athelwold, they laid by their swords and came and asked pardon of the queen. and with one accord they took earl godrich and bound him to a stake and burned him to ashes, for the great outrage he had done. then all the english nobles came and sware fealty to havelok and crowned him king in london. of grim's two daughters, havelok wedded gunild, the elder, to earl reyner of chester; and levive, the younger, fair as a new rose blossom opening to the sun, he married to bertram, the cook, whom he made earl of cornwall in the room of godrich. sixty years reigned havelok and goldborough in england, and they had fifteen children, who all became kings and queens. all the world spake of the great love that was between them. apart, neither knew joy or happiness. they never grew weary of each other, for their love was ever new; and not a word of anger passed between them all their lives. the vikings adapted by mary macgregor i characters of the vikings in norway, sweden, and denmark, in all the villages and towns around the shores of the baltic, the viking race was born. it has been said that the name "vikings" was first given to those northmen who dwelt in a part of denmark called viken. however that may be, it was the name given to all the northmen who took to a wild, sea-roving life, because they would often seek shelter with their boats in one or another of the numerous bays which abounded along their coasts. thus the vikings were not by any means all kings, as you might think from their name; yet among them were many chiefs of royal descent. these, although they had neither subjects nor kingdoms over which to rule, no sooner stepped on board a viking's boat to take command of the crew, than they were given title of king. the northmen did not, however, spend all their lives in harrying and burning other countries. when the seas were quiet in the long, summer days, they would go off, as i have told you, on their wild expeditions. but when summer was over, and the seas began to grow rough and stormy, the viking bands would go home with their booty and stay there, to build their houses, reap their fields, and, when spring had come again, to sow their grain in the hope of a plenteous harvest. there was thus much that the viking lad had to learn beyond the art of wielding the battle-axe, poising the spear, and shooting an arrow straight to its mark. even a free-born yeoman's son had to work, work as hard as had the slaves or thralls who were under him. the old history books, or sagas, as the norseman called them, have, among other songs, this one about the duties of a well-born lad: "he now learnt to tame oxen and till the ground, to timber houses and build barns, to make carts and form plows." indeed, it would have surprised you to see the fierce warriors and mighty chiefs themselves laying aside their weapons and working in the fields side by side with their thralls, sowing, reaping, threshing. yet this they did. even kings were often to be seen in the fields during the busy harvest season. they would help their men to cut the golden grain, and with their own royal hands help to fill the barn when the field was reaped. to king and yeomen alike, work, well done, was an honorable deed. long before the sagas were written down, the stories of the heroes were sung in halls and on battle-fields by the poets of the nation. these poets were named skalds, and their rank among the northmen was high. sometimes the sagas were sung in prose, at other times in verse. sometimes they were tales which had been handed down from father to son for so many years that it was hard to tell how much of them was history, how much fable. at other times the sagas were true accounts of the deeds of the norse kings. for the skalds were ofttimes to be seen on the battle-fields or battleships of the vikings, and then their songs were of the brave deeds which they had themselves seen done, of the victories and defeats at which they themselves had been present. the battles which the vikings fought were fought on the sea more frequently than on the land. their warships were called long-ships and were half-decked the rowers sat in the center of the boat, which was low, so that their oars could reach the water. sails were used, either red or painted in different stripes, red, blue, yellow, green. these square, brightly colored sails gave the boats a gay appearance which was increased by the round shields which were hung outside the gunwale and which were also painted red, black, or white. at the prow there was usually a beautifully carved and gorgeously painted figurehead. the stem and stern of the ships were high. in the stern there was an upper deck, but in the forepart of the vessel there was nothing but loose planks on which the sailors could step. when a storm was raging or a battle was being fought, the loose planks did not, as you may imagine, offer a very firm foothold. the boats were usually built long and pointed for the sake of speed, and had seats for thirty rowers. besides the rowers, the long-boats could hold from sixty to one hundred and fifty sailors. ii harald fairhair harald fairhair was one of the foremost of the kings of norway. he was so brave a northman that he became king over the whole of norway. in eight hundred and sixty-one, when he began to reign, norway was divided into thirty-one little kingdoms, over each of which ruled a little king. harald fairhair began his reign by being one of these little kings. harald was only a boy, ten years of age, when he succeeded his father; but as he grew up he became a very strong and handsome man, as well as a very wise and prudent one. indeed he grew so strong that he fought with and vanquished five great kings in one battle. after this victory, harald sent, so the old chronicles of the kings of norway say, some of his men to a princess named gyda, bidding them tell her that he wished to make her his queen. but gyda wished to marry a king who ruled over a whole country, rather than one who owned but a small part of norway, and this was the message she sent back to harald: "tell harald," said the maiden, "that i will agree to be his wife if he will first, for my sake, subdue all norway to himself, for only thus methinks can he be called the king of a people." the messengers thought gyda's words too bold, but when king harald heard them, he said, "it is wonderful that i did not think of this before. and now i make a solemn vow and take god to witness, who made me and rules over all things, that never shall i clip or comb my hair until i have subdued the whole of norway with scat [land taxes], and duties, and domains." then, without delay, harald assembled a great force and prepared to conquer all the other little kings who were ruling over the different parts of norway. in many districts the kings had no warning of harald's approach, and before they could collect an army they were vanquished. when their ruler was defeated, many of his subjects fled from the country, manned their ships and sailed away on viking expeditions. others made peace with king harald and became his men. over each district, as he conquered it, harald placed a jarl or earl, that he might judge and do justice, and also that he might collect the scat and fines which harald had imposed upon the conquered people. as the earls were given a third part of the money they thus collected, they were well pleased to take service with king harald. and indeed they grew richer, and more powerful too, than they had ever been before. it took king harald ten long years to do as he had vowed, and make all norway his own. during these years a great many new bands of vikings were formed, and led by their chief or king they left the country, not choosing to become king harald's men. these viking bands went west, over the sea, to shetland and orkney, to the hebrides, and also to england, scotland, and ireland. during the winter they made their home in these lands, but in summer they sailed to the coast of norway and did much damage to the towns that lay along the coast. then, growing bolder, they ventured inland, and because of their hatred against king harald, they plundered and burned both towns and villages. meanwhile harald, having fulfilled his vow, had his hair combed and cut. it had grown so rough and tangled during these ten years that his people had named him harald sufa, which meant "shock-headed harald." now, however, after his long, yellow hair was combed and clipped, he was named harald fairhair, and by this name he was ever after known. nor did the king forget gyda, for whose sake he had made his vow. he sent for her, and she, as she had promised, came to marry the king of all norway. now the raids of the vikings along the coasts of norway angered the king, and he determined that they should end. he therefore set out with a large fleet in search of his rebellious subjects. these, when they heard of his approach, fled to their long-ships and sailed out to sea. but harald reached shetland and slew those vikings who had not fled, then, landing on the orkney isles, he burned and plundered, sparing no northman who crossed his path. on the hebrides king harald met with worthy foes, for here were many who had once themselves been kings in norway. in all the battles that he fought harald was victorious and gained much booty. when he went back to norway the king left one of his jarls to carry on war against the inhabitants of scotland. caithness and sutherland were conquered by this jarl for harald, and thereafter many chiefs, both norsemen and danes, settled there. while harald fairhair was ruling in norway, a grandson of alfred the great became king in england. his name was athelstan the victorious. now athelstan liked to think that he was a greater king than harald fairhair. it pleased him, too, to play what seemed to him a clever trick on his rival across the sea. he sent a beautiful sword to harald. its hilt was covered with gold and silver, and set with precious gems. when athelstan's messenger stood before the king of norway he held out the hilt of the sword toward him, saying "here is a sword that king athelstan doth send to thee." harald at once seized it by the hilt. then the messenger smiled and said, "now shalt thou be subject to the king of england, for thou hast taken the sword by the hilt as he desired thee." to take a sword thus was in those olden days a sign of submission. then harald was very angry, for he knew that athelstan had sent this gift only that he might mock him. he wished to punish the messenger whom athelstan had sent with the sword. nevertheless he remembered his habit whenever he got angry, to first keep quiet and let his anger subside, and then look at the matter calmly. by the time the prudent king had done this, his anger had cooled, and athelstan's messenger departed unharmed. but with athelstan harald still hoped to be equal. the following summer he sent a ship to england. it was commanded by hauk, and into his hands harald intrusted his young son hakon, whom he was sending to king athelstan. for what purpose you shall hear. hauk reached england safely, and found the king in london at a feast. the captain boldly entered the hall where the feasters sat, followed by thirty of his men, each one of whom had his shield hidden under his cloak. carrying prince hakon, who was a child, in his arms, hauk stepped before the king and saluted him. then before athelstan knew what he meant to do, hauk, had placed the little prince on the king's knee. "why hast thou done this?" said athelstan to the bold northman. "harald of norway asks thee to foster his child," answered hauk. but well he knew that his words would make the king of england wroth. for one who became foster-father to a child was usually of lower rank than the real father. this, you see, was harald's way of thanking athelstan for his gift of the sword. well, as hauk expected, the king was very angry when he heard why the little prince had been placed on his knee. he drew his sword as though he would slay the child. hauk, however, was quite undisturbed, and said, "thou hast borne the child on thy knee, and thou canst murder him if thou wilt, but thou canst not make an end of all king harald's sons by so doing." then the viking, with his men, left the hall and strode down to the river, where they embarked, and at once set sail for norway. when hauk reached norway and told the king all that he had done, harald was well content, for the king of england had been forced to become the foster-father of his little son. athelstan's anger against his royal foster-child was soon forgotten, and ere long he loved him better than any of his own kin. he ordered the priest to baptize the little prince, and to teach him the true faith. iii the sea-fight of the jomsvikings while king harald was reigning in denmark, he built on the shores of the baltic a fortress which he called jomsburg. in this fortress dwelt a famous band of vikings named the jomsvikings. it is one of their most famous sea-fights that i am going to tell you now. the leader of the band was earl sigvald, and a bold and fearless leader he had proved himself. it was at a great feast that sigvald made the rash vow which led to this mighty battle. after the horn of mead had been handed round not once or twice only, sigvald arose and vowed that, before three winters had passed, he and his band would go to norway and either kill or chase earl hakon out of the country. in the morning sigvald and his jomsvikings perhaps felt that they had vowed more than they were able to perform, yet it was not possible to withdraw from the enterprise unless they were willing to be called cowards. they therefore thought it would be well to start without delay, that they might, if possible, take earl hakon unawares. in a short time therefore the jomsviking fleet was ready, and sixty warships sailed away toward norway. no sooner did they reach earl hakon's realms than they began to plunder and burn along the coast. but while they gained booty, they lost time. for hakon, hearing of their doings, at once split a war-arrow and sent it all over the realm. it was in this way that hakon heard that the jomsvikings were in his land. in one village the vikings had, as they thought, killed all the inhabitants. but unknown to them a man had escaped with the loss of his hand, and hastening to the shore he sailed away in a light boat in search of the earl. hakon was at dinner when the fugitive stood before him. "art thou sure that thou didst see the jomsvikings?" asked hakon, when he had listened to the man's tidings. for answer, the peasant stretched out the arm from which the hand had been sundered, saying, "here is the token that the jomsvikings are in the land." it was then that hakon sent the war-arrow throughout the land and speedily gathered together a great force. eric one of his sons, also collected troops, but though the preparations for war went on apace, the jomsvikings heard nothing of them, and still thought that they would take earl hakon by surprise. at length the vikings sailed into a harbor about twenty miles north of a town called stad. as they were in want of food some of the band landed, and marched to the nearest village. here they slaughtered the men who could bear arms, burned the houses, and drove all the cattle they could find before them toward the shore. on the way to their ships, however, they met a peasant who said to them, "ye are not doing like true warriors, to be driving cows and calves down to the strand, while ye should be giving chase to the bear, since ye are come near to the bear's den." by the bear the peasant meant earl hakon, as the vikings well knew. "what says the man?" they all cried, together; "can he tell us about earl hakon?" "yesternight he lay inside the island that you can see yonder," said the peasant; "and you can slay him when you like, for he is waiting for his men." "thou shalt have all this cattle," cried one of the vikings, "if thou wilt show us the way to the jarl." then the peasant went on board the vikings' boat, and they hastened to sigvald to tell him that the earl lay in a bay but a little way off. the jomsvikings armed themselves as if they were going to meet a large army, which the peasant said was unnecessary, as the earl had but few ships and men. but no sooner had the jomsvikings come within sight of the bay than they knew that the peasant had deceived them. before them lay more than three hundred war-ships. when the peasant saw that his trick was discovered he jumped overboard, hoping to swim to shore. but one of the vikings flung a spear after him, and the peasant sank and was seen no more. now though the vikings had fewer ships than earl hakon, they were larger and higher, and sigvald hoped that this would help them to gain the victory. slowly the fleets drew together and a fierce battle began. at first hakon's men fell in great numbers, for the jomsvikings fought with all their wonted strength. so many spears also were aimed at hakon himself that his armor was split asunder and he threw it aside. when the earl saw that the battle was going against him, he called his sons together and said, "i dislike to fight against these men, for i believe that none are their equals, and i see that it will fare ill with us unless we hit upon some plan. stay here with the host and i will go ashore and see what can be done." then the jarl went into the depths of a forest, and, sinking on his knees, he prayed to the goddess thorgerd. but when no answer came to his cry, hakon thought she was angry, and to appease her wrath he sacrificed many precious things to her. yet still the goddess hid her face. in his despair hakon then promised to offer human sacrifices, but no sign was given to him that his offering would be accepted. "thou shalt have my son, my youngest son erling!" cried the king, and then at length, so it seemed to hakon, thorgerd was satisfied. he therefore gave his son, who was but seven years old, to his thrall, and bade him offer the child as a sacrifice to the goddess. then hakon went back to his ships, and lo! as the battle raged, the sky began to grow dark though it was but noon, and a storm arose and a heavy shower of hail fell. the hail was driven by the wind in the faces of the vikings, and flashes of lightning blinded them and loud peals of thunder made them afraid. but a short time before the warriors had flung aside their garments because of the heat; now the cold was so intense that they could scarce hold their weapons. while the storm raged, hakon praised the gods and encouraged his men to fight more fiercely. then, as the battle went against them, the jomsvikings saw in the clouds a troll, or fiend. in each finger the troll held an arrow, which, as it seemed to them, always hit and killed a man. sigvald saw that his men were growing fearful, and he, too; felt that the gods were against them. "it seems to me," he said, "that it is not men whom we have to fight to-day but fiends, and it requires some manliness to go boldly against them." but now the storm abated, and once more the vikings began to conquer. then the earl cried again to thorgerd, saying that now he deserved victory, for he had sacrificed to her his youngest son. then once more the storm-cloud crept over the sky and a terrific storm of hail beat upon the vikings, and now they saw, not in the clouds, but in hakon's ship, two trolls, and they were speeding arrows among the enemies of hakon. even sigvald, the renowned leader of the jomsvikings, could not stand before these unknown powers. he called to his men to flee, for, said he, "we did not vow to fight against fiends, but against men." but though sigvald sailed away with thirty-five ships, there were some of his men who scorned to flee even from fiends. twenty-five ships stayed behind to continue the fight. the viking bui was commander of one of these. his ship was boarded by hakon's men, whereupon he took one of his treasures-chests in either hand and jumped into the sea. as he jumped he cried, "overboard, all bui's men," and neither he nor those who followed him were ever seen again. before the day was ended, sigvald's brother had also sailed away with twenty-four boats, so that there was left but one boat out of all the jomsvikings' fleet. it was commanded by the viking vagn. earl hakon sent his son eric to board this boat, and after a brave fight it was captured, for vagn's men were stiff and weary with their wounds, and could scarce wield their battle-axes or spears. with thirty-six of his men vagn was taken prisoner and brought to land, and thus earl hakon had defeated the famous vikings of jomsburg. the victory was due, as hakon at least believed, to the aid of the goddess thorgerd. when the weapons and other booty which they had taken had been divided among the men, earl hakon and his chiefs sat down in their warbooths and appointed a man named thorkel to behead the prisoners. eighteen were beheaded ere the headsman came to vagn. now, as he had a dislike to this brave viking, thorkel rushed at him, holding his sword in both hands. but vagn threw himself suddenly at thorkel's feet, whereupon the headsman tripped over him. in a moment vagn was on his feet, thorkel's sword in his hand, and before any one could stop him he had slain his enemy. then earl eric, hakon's son, who loved brave men, said, "vagn, wilt thou accept life?" "that i will," said the bold viking, "if thou give it to all of us who are still alive." "loose the prisoners!" cried the young earl, and it was done. thus of the famous band of jomsvikings twelve yet lived to do many a valiant deed in days to come. hero of germany siegfried adapted by mary macgregor i mimer the blacksmith siegfried was born a prince and grew to be a hero, a hero with a heart of gold. though he could fight, and was as strong as any lion, yet he could love too and be as gentle as a child. the father and mother of the hero-boy lived in a strong castle near the banks of the great rhine river. siegmund, his father, was a rich king, sieglinde, his mother, a beautiful queen, and dearly did they love their little son siegfried. the courtiers and the high-born maidens who dwelt in the castle honored the little prince, and thought him the fairest child in all the land, as indeed he was. sieglinde, his queen-mother, would oftimes dress her little son in costly garments and lead him by the hand before the proud, strong men-at-arms who stood before the castle walls. naught had they but smiles and gentle words for their little prince. when he grew older, siegfried would ride into the country, yet always would he be attended by king siegmund's most trusted warriors. then one day armed men entered the netherlands, the country over which the king siegmund ruled, and the little prince was sent away from the castle, lest by any evil chance he should fall into the hands of the foe. siegfried was hidden away safe in the thickets of a great forest, and dwelt there under the care of a blacksmith, named mimer. mimer was a dwarf, belonging to a strange race of little folk called nibelungs. the nibelungs lived for the most part in a dark little town beneath the ground. nibelheim was the name of this little town and many of the tiny men who dwelt there were smiths. all the livelong day they would hammer on their little anvils, but all through the long night they would dance and play with tiny little nibelung women. it was not in the little dark town of nibelung that mimer had his forge, but under the trees of the great forest to which siegfried had been sent. as mimer or his pupils wielded their tools the wild beasts would start from their lair, and the swift birds would wing their flight through the mazes of the wood, lest danger lay in those heavy, resounding strokes. but siegfried, the hero-boy, would laugh for glee, and seizing the heaviest hammer he could see he would swing it with such force upon the anvil that it would be splintered into a thousand pieces. then mimer the blacksmith would scold the lad, who was now the strongest of all the lads under his care; but little heeding his rebukes, siegfried would fling himself merrily out of the smithy and hasten with great strides into the gladsome wood. for now the prince was growing a big lad, and his strength was even as the strength of ten. to-day siegfried was in a merry mood. he would repay mimer's rebukes in right good fashion. he would frighten the little blacksmith dwarf until he was forced to cry for mercy. clad in his forest dress of deerskins, with his hair as burnished gold blowing around his shoulders, siegfried wandered away into the depths of the woodland. there he seized the silver horn which hung from his girdle and raised it to his lips. a long, clear note he blew, and ere the sound had died away the boy saw a sight which pleased him well. here was good prey indeed! a bear, a great big shaggy bear was peering at him out of a bush, and as he gazed the beast opened its jaws and growled, a fierce and angry growl. not a whit afraid was siegfried. quick as lightning he had caught the great creature in his arms, and ere it could turn upon him, it was muzzled, and was being led quietly along toward the smithy. mimer was busy at his forge sharpening a sword when siegfried reached the doorway. at the sound of laughter the little dwarf raised his head. it was the prince who laughed. then mimer saw the bear, and letting the sword he held drop to the ground with a clang, he ran to hide himself in the darkest corner of the smithy. then siegfried laughed again. he was no hero-boy to-day, for next he made the big bear hunt the little nibelung dwarf from corner to corner, nor could the frightened little man escape or hide himself in darkness. again and again as he crouched in a shadowed corner, siegfried would stir up the embers of the forge until all the smithy was lighted with a ruddy glow. at length the prince tired of his game, and unmuzzling the bear he chased the bewildered beast back into the shelter of the woodland. mimer, poor little dwarf, all a-tremble with his fear, cried angrily, "thou mayest go shoot if so it please thee, and bring home thy dead prey. dead bears thou mayest bring hither if thou wilt, but live bears shalt thou leave to crouch in their lair or to roam through the forest." but siegfried, the naughty prince, only laughed at the little nibelung's frightened face and harsh, croaking voice. now as the days passed, mimer the blacksmith began to wish that siegfried had never come to dwell with him in his smithy. the prince was growing too strong, too brave to please the little dwarf; moreover, many were the mischievous tricks his pupil played on him. prince though he was, mimer would see if he could not get rid of his tormentor. for indeed though, as i have told you, siegfried had a heart of gold, at this time the gold seemed to have grown dim and tarnished. perhaps that was because the prince had learned to distrust and to dislike, nay, more, to hate the little, cunning dwarf. however that may be, it is certain that siegfried played many pranks upon the little nibelung, and he, mimer, determined to get rid of the quick-tempered, strong-handed prince. one day, therefore, it happened that the little dwarf told siegfried to go deep into the forest to bring home charcoal for the forge. and this mimer did, though he knew that in the very part of the forest to which he was sending the lad there dwelt a terrible dragon, named regin. indeed regin was a brother of the little blacksmith, and would be lying in wait for the prince. it would be but the work of a moment for the monster to seize the lad and greedily to devour him. to siegfried it was always joy to wander afar through the woodland. ofttimes had he thrown himself down on the soft, moss-covered ground and lain there hour after hour, listening to the wood-bird's song. sometimes he would even find a reed and try to pipe a tune as sweet as did the birds, but that was all in vain, as the lad soon found. no tiny songster would linger to hearken to the shrill piping of his grassy reed, and the prince himself was soon ready to fling it far away. it was no hardship then to siegfried to leave the forge and the hated little nibelung, therefore it was that with right good will he set out in search of charcoal for mimer the blacksmith. as he loitered there where the trees grew thickest, siegfried took his horn and blew it lustily. if he could not pipe on a grassy reed, at least he could blow a rousing note on his silver horn. suddenly, as siegfried blew, the trees seemed to sway, the earth to give out fire. regin, the dragon, had roused himself at the blast, and was even now drawing near to the prince. it was at the mighty strides of the monster that the trees had seemed to tremble, it was as he opened his terrible jaws that the earth had seemed to belch out fire. for a little while siegfried watched the dragon in silence. then he laughed aloud, and a brave, gay laugh it was. alone in the forest, with a sword, buckled to his side, the hero was afraid of naught, not even of regin. the ugly monster was sitting now on a little hillock, looking down upon the lad, his victim as he thought. then siegfried called boldly to the dragon, "i will kill thee, for in truth thou art an ugly monster." at those words regin opened his great jaws, and showed his terrible fangs. yet still the boy prince mocked at the hideous dragon. and now regin in his fury crept closer and closer to the lad, swinging his great tail, until he well-nigh swept siegfried from his feet. [illustration: the hero's shining sword pierced the heart of the monster.] swiftly then the prince drew his sword, well tempered as he knew, for had not he himself wrought it in the forge of mimer the blacksmith? swiftly he drew his sword, and with one bound he sprang upon the dragon's back, and as he reared himself, down came the hero's shining sword and pierced into the very heart of the monster. thus as siegfried leaped nimbly to the ground, the dragon fell back dead. regin was no longer to be feared. then siegfried did a curious thing. he had heard the little nibelung men who came to the smithy to talk with mimer, he had heard them say that whoever should bathe in the blood of regin the dragon would henceforth be safe from every foe. for his skin would grow so tough and horny that it would be to him as an armor through which no sword could ever pierce. thinking of the little nibelungs' harsh voices and wrinkled little faces as they had sat talking thus around mimer's glowing forge, siegfried now flung aside his deerskin dress and bathed himself from top to toe in the dragon's blood. but as he bathed, a leaf from off a linden tree was blown upon his shoulders, and on the spot where it rested siegfried's skin was still soft and tender as when he was a little child. it was only a tiny spot which was covered by the linden leaf, but should a spear thrust, or an arrow pierce that tiny spot, siegfried would be wounded as easily as any other man. the dragon was dead, the bath was over, and clad once more in his deerskin, siegfried set out for the smithy. he brought no charcoal for the forge; all that he carried with him was a heart afire with anger, a sword quivering to take the life of the nibelung, mimer. for now siegfried knew that the dwarf had wished to send him forth to death, when he bade him go seek charcoal in the depths of the forest. into the dusky glow of the smithy plunged the hero, and swiftly he slew the traitor mimer. then gaily, for he had but slain evil ones of whom the world was well rid, then gaily siegfried fared through the forest in quest of adventure. ii siegfried wins the treasure now this is what befell the prince. in his wanderings he reached the country called isenland, where the warlike but beautiful queen brunhild reigned. he gazed with wonder at her castle, so strong it stood on the edge of the sea, guarded by seven great gates. her marble palaces also made him marvel, so white they glittered in the sun. but most of all he marveled at this haughty queen, who refused to marry any knight unless he could vanquish her in every contest to which she summoned him. brunhild from the castle window saw the fair face and the strong limbs of the hero, and demanded that he should be brought into her presence, and as a sign of her favor she showed the young prince her magic horse gana. yet siegfried had no wish to conquer the warrior-queen and gain her hand and her broad dominions for his own. siegfried thought only of a wonder-maiden, unknown, unseen as yet, though in his heart he hid an image of her as he dreamed that she would be. it is true that siegfried had no love for the haughty brunhild. it is also true that he wished to prove to her that he alone was a match for all her boldest warriors, and had even power to bewitch her magic steed, gana, if so he willed, and steal it from her side. and so one day a spirit of mischief urged the prince on to a gay prank, as also a wayward spirit urged him no longer to brook queen brunhild's mien. before he left isenland, therefore, siegfried in a merry mood threw to the ground the seven great gates that guarded the queen's strong castle. then he called to gana, the magic steed, to follow him into the world, and this the charger did with a right good will. whether siegfried sent gana back to isenland or not i do not know, but i know that in the days to come queen brunhild never forgave the hero for his daring feat. when the prince had left isenland he rode on and on until he came to a great mountain. here near a cave he found two little dwarfish nibelungs, surrounded by twelve foolish giants. the two little nibelungs were princes, the giants were their counselors. now the king of the nibelungs had but just died in the dark little underground town of nibelheim, and the two tiny princes were the sons of the dead king. but they had not come to the mountain-side to mourn for their royal father. not so indeed had they come, but to divide the great hoard of treasure which the king had bequeathed to them at his death. already they had begun to quarrel over the treasure, and the twelve foolish giants looked on, but did not know what to say or do, so they did nothing, and never spoke at all. the dwarfs had themselves carried the hoard out of the cave where usually it was hidden, and they had spread it on the mountain-side. there it lay, gold as far as the eye could see, and farther. jewels, too, were there, more than twelve wagons could carry away in four days and nights, each going three journeys. indeed, however much you took from this marvelous treasure, never did it seem to grow less. but more precious even than the gold or the jewels of the hoard was a wonderful sword which it possessed. it was named balmung, and had been tempered by the nibelungs in their glowing forges underneath the glad green earth. before the magic strength of balmung's stroke, the strongest warrior must fall, nor could his armor save him, however close its links had been welded by some doughty smith. as siegfried rode towards the two little dwarfs, they turned and saw him, with his bright, fair face, and flowing locks. nimble as little hares they darted to his side, and begged that he would come and divide their treasure. he should have the good sword balmung as reward, they cried. siegfried dismounted, well pleased to do these ugly little men a kindness. but alas! ere long the dwarfs began to mock at the hero with their harsh voices, and to wag their horrid little heads at him, while they screamed in a fury that he was not dividing the treasure as they wished. then siegfried grew angry with the tiny princes, and seizing the magic sword, he cut off their heads. the twelve foolish giants also he slew, and thus became himself master of the marvelous hoard as well as of the good sword balmung. seven hundred valiant champions, hearing the blast of the hero's horn, now gather together to defend the country from this strange young warrior. but he vanquished them all, and forced them to promise that they would henceforth serve no other lord save him alone. and this they did, being proud of his great might. now tidings of the slaughter of the two tiny princes had reached nibelheim, and great was the wrath of the little men and little women who dwelt in the dark town beneath the earth. alberich, the mightiest of all the dwarfs, gathered together his army of little gnomes to avenge the death of the two dwarf princes and also, for alberich was a greedy man, to gain for himself the great hoard. when siegfried saw alberich at the head of his army of little men he laughed aloud, and with a light heart he chased them all into the great cave on the mountain-side. from off the mighty dwarf, alberich, he stripped his famous cloak of darkness, which made him who wore it not only invisible, but strong as twelve strong men. he snatched also from the dwarf's fingers his wishing-rod, which was a magic wand. and last of all he made alberich and his thousands of tiny warriors take an oath, binding them evermore to serve him alone. then hiding the treasure in the cave with the seven hundred champions whom he had conquered, he left alberich and his army of little men to guard it, until he came again. and alberich and his dwarfs were faithful to the hero who had shorn them of their treasure, and served him for evermore. siegfried, the magic sword balmung by his side, the cloak of darkness thrown over his arm, the magic wand in his strong right hand, went over the mountain, across the plains, nor did he tarry until he came again to the castle built on the banks of the river rhine in his own low-lying country of the netherlands. iii siegfried comes home the walls of the old castle rang. king siegmund, his knights and liegemen, all were welcoming prince siegfried home. they had not seen their hero-prince since he had been sent long years before to be under the charge of mimer the blacksmith. he had grown but more fair, more noble, they thought, as they gazed upon his stalwart limbs, his fearless eyes. and what tales of prowess clustered around his name! already their prince had done great deeds as he had ridden from land to land. the king and his liegemen had heard of the slaughter of the terrible dragon, of the capture of the great treasure, of the defiance of the warlike and beautiful brunhild. they could wish for no more renowned prince than their own prince siegfried. thus siegmund and his subjects rejoiced that the heir to the throne was once again in his own country. in the queen's bower, too, there was great joy. sieglinde wept, but her tears were not those of sadness. sieglinde wept for very gladness that her son had come home safe from his wonderful adventures. now siegmund wished to give a great feast in honor of his son. it should be on his birthday which was very near, the birthday on which the young prince would be twenty-one years of age. far and wide throughout the netherlands and into distant realms tidings of the feast were borne. kinsmen and strangers, lords and ladies, all were asked to the banquet in the great castle hall where siegmund reigned supreme. it was the merry month of june when the feast was held, and the sun shone bright on maidens in fair raiment, on knights in burnished armor. siegfried was to be knighted on this june day along with four hundred young squires of his father's realm. the prince was clad in gorgeous armor, and on the cloak flung around his shoulders jewels were seen to sparkle in the sunlight, jewels made fast with gold embroidery worked by the white hands of the queen and her fair damsels. in games and merry pastimes the hours of the day sped fast away, until the great bell of the minster pealed, calling the gay company to the house of god for evensong. siegfried and the four hundred squires knelt before the altar, ere they were knighted by the royal hand of siegmund the king. the solemn service ended, the new-made knights hastened back to the castle, and there in the great hall a mighty tournament was held. knights who had grown gray in service tilted with those who but that day had been given the grace of knighthood. lances splintered, shields fell before the mighty onslaughts of the gallant warriors, until king siegmund bade the tilting cease. then in the great hall feasting and song held sway until daylight faded and the stars shone bright. yet no weariness knew the merrymakers. the next morning, and for six long summer days, they tilted, they sang, they feasted. when at length the great festival drew to a close, siegmund in the presence of his guests gave to his dear son siegfried many lands and strong castles over which he might be lord. to all his son's comrades, too, the king gave steeds and costly raiment, while queen sieglinde bestowed upon them freely coins of gold. such abundant gifts had never before been dreamed of as were thus lavished by siegmund and sieglinde on their guests. as the rich nobles looked upon the brave young prince siegfried, there were some who whispered among themselves that they would fain have him to rule in the land. siegfried heard their whispers, but in no wise did he give heed to the wish of the nobles. never, he thought while his beautiful mother and his bounteous father lived, would he wear the crown. indeed siegfried had no wish to sit upon a throne, he wished but to subdue the evil-doers in the land. or better still, he wished to go forth in search of new adventure. and this right soon he did. iv siegfried at the court of worms at the court of worms in burgundy dwelt the princess kriemhild, whose fame for beauty and kindness had spread to many a far-off land. she lived with her mother queen uté and her three brothers king gunther, king gernot, and king giselher. her father had long been dead. gunther sat upon the throne and had for chief counselor his cruel uncle hagen. one night kriemhild dreamed that a beautiful wild hawk with feathers of gold came and perched upon her wrist. it grew so tame that she took it with her to the hunt. upward it soared when loosed toward the bright blue sky. then the dream-maiden saw two mighty eagles swoop down upon her petted hawk and tear it to pieces. the princess told her dream to her mother, who said, "the hawk, my daughter, is a noble knight who shall be thy husband, but, alas, unless god defend him from his foes, thou shalt lose him ere he has long been thine." kriemhild replied, "o lady mother, i wish no knight to woo me from thy side." "nay," said the queen, "speak not thus, for god will send to thee a noble knight and strong." hearing of the princess, siegfried, who lived in the netherlands, began to think that she was strangely like the unknown maiden whose image he carried in his heart. so he set out to go into burgundy to see the beautiful kriemhild who had sent many knights away. siegfried's father wished to send an army with him but siegfried said, "nay, give me only, i pray thee, eleven stalwart warriors." tidings had reached king gunther of the band of strangers who had so boldly entered the royal city. he sent for hagen, chief counselor, who said they must needs be princes or ambassadors. "one knight, the fairest and the boldest, is, methinks, the wondrous hero siegfried, who has won great treasure from the nibelungs, and has killed two little princely dwarfs, their twelve giants, and seven hundred great champions of the neighboring country with his good sword balmung." graciously then did the king welcome siegfried. "i beseech thee, noble knight," said the king, "tell me why thou hast journeyed to this our royal city?" now siegfried was not ready to speak of the fair princess, so he told the king that he had come to see the splendor of the court and to do great deeds, even to wrest from him the broad realm of burgundy and likewise all his castles. "unless thou dost conquer me i shall rule in my great might in this realm." "we do well to be angry at the words of this bold stripling," said hagen. a quarrel arose, but king gernot, gunther's brother, made peace and siegfried began to think of the wonderlady of his dreams and grew ashamed of his boasting. then all burgundy began to hear of siegfried. at the end of the year burgundy was threatened with invasion. king ludegast and king ludeger threatened mighty wars. when siegfried heard of this he said, "if trouble hath come to thee, my arm is strong to bring thee aid. if thy foes were as many as thirty thousand, yet with one thousand warriors would i destroy them. therefore, leave the battle in my hands." when the rude kings heard that siegfried would fight for burgundy their hearts failed for fear and in great haste they gathered their armies. king gunther meanwhile had assembled his men and the chief command was given to hagen, but siegfried rode forward to seek the foe. in advance of their warriors stood ludegast and ludeger ready for the fray. grasping his good sword balmung, siegfried first met ludegast piercing him through his steel harness with an ugly thrust till he lay helpless at his feet. thirty of the king's warriors rode up and beset the hero, but siegfried slaughtered all save one. he was spared to carry the dire tidings of the capture of ludegast to his army. ludeger had seen the capture of his brother and met the onslaught that siegfried soon made upon him. but with a great blow siegfried struck the shield from ludeger's hold, and in a moment more he had him at his mercy. for the second time that day the prince was victor over a king. when uté, the mother of kriemhild, heard that a grand festival celebrating the prowess of prince siegfried was to be held at court, she made up her mind that she and her daughter would lend their gracious presence. many noble guests were there gathered and when the knights entered the lists the king sent a hundred of his liegemen to bring the queen and the princess to the great hall. when siegfried saw the princess he knew that she was indeed more beautiful than he had ever dreamed. a messenger was sent by the king bidding him greet the princess. "be welcome here, sir siegfried, for thou art a good and noble knight," said the maiden softly, "for right well hast thou served my royal brother." "thee will i serve for ever," cried the happy hero, "thee will i serve for ever, and thy wishes shall ever be my will!" then for twelve glad days were siegfried and kriemhild ofttimes side by side. v. siegfried goes to isenland whitsuntide had come and gone when tidings from beyond the rhine reached the court at worms. no dread tidings were these, but glad and good to hear, of a matchless queen named brunhild who dwelt in isenland. king gunther listened with right good will to the tales of this warlike maiden, for if she were beautiful she was also strong as any warrior. wayward, too, she was, yet gunther would fain have her as his queen to sit beside him on his throne. one day the king sent for siegfried to tell him that he would fain journey to isenland to wed queen brunhild. now siegfried, as you know, had been in isenland and knew some of the customs of this wayward queen. so he answered the king right gravely that it would be a dangerous journey across the sea to isenland, nor would he win the queen unless he were able to vanquish her great strength. he told the king how brunhild would challenge him to three contests, or games, as she would call them. and if she were the victor, as indeed she had been over many a royal suitor, then his life would be forfeited. at her own desire kings and princes had hurled the spear at the stalwart queen, and it had but glanced harmless off her shield, while she would pierce the armor of these valiant knights with her first thrust. this was one of the queen's games. then the knights would hasten to the ring and throw the stone from them as far as might be, yet ever queen brunhild threw it farther. for this was another game of the warrior-queen. the third game was to leap beyond the stone which they had thrown, but ever to their dismay the knights saw this marvelous maiden far outleap them all. these valorous knights, thus beaten in the three contests, had been beheaded, and therefore it was that siegfried spoke so gravely to king gunther. but gunther, so he said, was willing to risk his life to win so brave a bride. now hagen had drawn near to the king, and as he listened to siegfried's words, the grim warrior said, "sire, since the prince knows the customs of isenland, let him go with thee on thy journey, to share thy dangers, and to aid thee in the presence of this warlike queen." and hagen, for he hated the hero, hoped that he might never return alive from isenland. but the king was pleased with his counselor's words. "sir siegfried," he said, "wilt thou help me to win the matchless maiden brunhild for my queen?" "that right gladly will i do," answered the prince, "if thou wilt promise to give me thy sister kriemhild as my bride, should i bring thee back safe from isenland, the bold queen at thy side." then the king promised that on the same day that he wedded brunhild, his sister should wed prince siegfried, and with this promise the hero was well content. "thirty thousand warriors will i summon to go with us to isenland," cried king gunther gaily. "nay," said the prince, "thy warriors would but be the victims of this haughty queen. as plain knight-errants will we go, taking with us none, save hagen the keen-eyed and his brother dankwart." then king gunther, his face aglow with pleasure, went with sir siegfried to his sister's bower, and begged her to provide rich garments in which he and his knights might appear before the beauteous queen brunhild. "thou shalt not beg this service from me," cried the gentle princess, "rather shalt thou command that which thou dost wish. see, here have i silk in plenty. send thou the gems from off thy bucklers, and i and my maidens will work them with gold embroideries into the silk." thus the sweet maiden dismissed her brother, and sending for her thirty maidens who were skilled in needlework she bade them sew their daintiest stitches, for here were robes to be made for the king and sir siegfried ere they went to bring queen brunhild into rhineland. for seven weeks kriemhild and her maidens were busy in their bower. silk white as new-fallen snow, silk green as the leaves in spring did they shape into garments worthy to be worn by the king and sir siegfried, and amid the gold embroideries glittered many a radiant gem. meanwhile down by the banks of the rhine a vessel was being built to carry the king across the sea to isenland. when all was ready the king and sir siegfried went to the bower of the princess. they would put on the silken robes and the beautiful cloaks kriemhild and her maidens had sewed to see that they were neither too long nor too short. but indeed the skilful hands of the princess had not erred. no more graceful or more beautiful garments had ever before been seen by the king or the prince. "sir siegfried," said the gentle kriemhild, "care for my royal brother lest danger befall him in the bold queen's country. bring him home both safe and sound i beseech thee." the hero bowed his head and promised to shield the king from danger, then they said farewell to the maiden, and embarked in the little ship that awaited them on the banks of the rhine. nor did siegfried forget to take with him his cloak of darkness and his good sword balmung. now none was there on the ship save king gunther, siegfried, hagen, and dankwart, but siegfried with his cloak of darkness had the strength of twelve men as well as his own strong right hand. merrily sailed the little ship, steered by sir siegfried himself. soon the rhine river was left behind and they were out on the sea, a strong wind filling their sails. ere evening, full twenty miles had the good ship made. for twelve days they sailed onward, until before them rose the grim fortress that guarded isenland. "what towers are these?" cried king gunther, as he gazed upon the turreted castle which looked as a grim sentinel guarding the land. "these," answered the hero, "are queen brunhild's towers and this is the country over which she rules." then turning to hagen and dankwart siegfried begged them to let him be spokesman to the queen, for he knew her wayward moods. "and king gunther shall be my king," said the prince, "and i but his vassal until we leave isenland." and hagen and dankwart, proud men though they were, obeyed in all things the words of the young prince of the netherlands. vi siegfried subdues brunhild the little ship had sailed on now close beneath the castle, so close indeed that as the king looked up to the window he could catch glimpses of beautiful maidens passing to and fro. sir siegfried also looked and laughed aloud for glee. it would be but a little while until brunhild was won and he was free to return to his winsome lady kriemhild. by this time the maidens in the castle had caught sight of the ship, and many bright eyes were peering down upon king gunther and his three brave comrades. "look well at the fair maidens, sire," said siegfried to the king. "among them all show me her whom thou wouldst choose most gladly as your bride." "seest thou the fairest of the band," cried the king, "she who is clad in a white garment? it is she and no other whom i would wed." right merrily then laughed siegfried. "the maiden," said he gaily, "is in truth none other than queen brunhild herself." the king and his warriors now moored their vessel and leaped ashore, siegfried leading with him the king's charger. for each knight had brought his steed with him from the fair land of burgundy. more bright than ever beamed the bright eyes of the ladies at the castle window. so fair, so gallant a knight never had they seen, thought the damsels as they gazed upon sir siegfried. and all the while king gunther dreamed their glances were bent on no other than himself. siegfried held the noble steed until king gunther had mounted, and this he did that queen brunhild might not know that he was the prince of the netherlands, owing service to no man. then going back to the ship the hero brought his own horse to land, mounted, and rode with the king toward the castle gate. king and prince were clad alike. their steeds as well as their garments were white as snow, their saddles were bedecked with jewels, and on the harness hung bells, all of bright red gold. their shields shone as the sun, their spears they wore before them, their swords hung by their sides. behind them followed hagen and dankwart, their armor black as the plumage of the wild raven, their shields strong and mighty. as they approached the castle gates were flung wide open, and the liegemen of the great queen came out to greet the strangers with words of welcome. they bid their hirelings also take the shields and chargers from their guests. but when a squire demanded that the strangers should also yield their swords, grim hagen smiled his grimmest, and cried, "nay, our swords will we e'en keep lest we have need of them." nor was he too well pleased when siegfried told him that the custom in isenland was that no guest should enter the castle carrying a weapon. it was but sullenly that he let his sword be taken away along with his mighty shield. after the strangers had been refreshed with wine, her liegemen sent to the queen to tell her that strange guests had arrived. "who are the strangers who come thus unheralded to my land?" haughtily demanded brunhild. but no one could tell her who the warriors were, though some murmured that the tallest and fairest might be the great hero siegfried. it may be that the queen thought that if the knight were indeed siegfried she would revenge herself on him now for the mischievous pranks he had played the last time he was in her kingdom. in any case she said, "if the hero is here he shall enter into contest with me, and he shall pay for his boldness with his life, for i shall be the victor." then with five hundred warriors, each with his sword in hand, brunhild came down to the knights from burgundy. "be welcome, siegfried," she cried, "yet wherefore hast thou come again to isenland?" "i thank thee for thy greeting, lady," said the prince, "but thou hast welcomed me before my lord. he, king gunther, ruler over the fair realms of burgundy, hath come hither to wed with thee." brunhild was displeased that the mighty hero should not himself seek to win her as a bride, yet since for all his prowess he seemed but a vassal of the king, she answered, "if thy master can vanquish me in the contests to which i bid him, then i will be his wife, but if i conquer thy master, his life, and the lives of his followers will be forfeited." "what dost thou demand of my master?" asked hagen. "he must hurl the spear with me, throw the stone from the ring, and leap to where it has fallen," said the queen. now while brunhild was speaking, siegfried whispered to the king to fear nothing, but to accept the queen's challenge. "i will be near though no one will see me, to aid thee in the struggle," he whispered. gunther had such trust in the prince that he at once cried boldly, "queen brunhild, i do not fear even to risk my life that i may win thee for my bride." then the bold maiden called for her armor, but when gunther saw her shield, "three spans thick with gold and iron, which four chamberlains could hardly bear," his courage began to fail. while the queen donned her silken fighting doublet, which could turn aside the sharpest spear, siegfried slipped away unnoticed to the ship, and swiftly flung around him his cloak of darkness. then unseen by all, he hastened back to king gunther's side. a great javelin was then given to the queen, and she began to fight with her suitor, and so hard were her thrusts that but for siegfried the king would have lost his life. "give me thy shield," whispered the invisible hero in the king's ear, "and tell no one that i am here." then as the maiden hurled her spear with all her force against the shield which she thought was held by the king, the shock well-nigh drove both gunther and his unseen friend to their knees. but in a moment siegfried's hand had dealt the queen such a blow with the handle of his spear (he would not use the sharp point against a woman) that the maiden cried aloud, "king gunther, thou hast won this fray." for as she could not see siegfried because of his cloak of darkness, she could not but believe that it was the king who had vanquished her. in her wrath the queen now sped to the ring, where lay a stone so heavy that it could scarce be lifted by twelve strong men. but brunhild lifted it with ease, and threw it twelve arms' length beyond the spot on which she stood. then, leaping after it, she alighted even farther than she had thrown the stone. gunther now stood in the ring, and lifted the stone which had again been placed within it. he lifted it with an effort, but at once siegfried's unseen hand grasped it and threw it with such strength that it dropped even beyond the spot to which it had been flung by the queen. lifting king gunther with him siegfried next jumped far beyond the spot on which the queen had alighted. and all the warriors marveled to see their queen thus vanquished by the strange king. for you must remember that not one of them could see that it was siegfried who had done these deeds of prowess. now in the contest, still unseen, siegfried had taken from the queen her ring and her favorite girdle. with angry gestures brunhild called to her liegemen to come and lay their weapons down at king gunther's feet to do him homage. henceforth they must be his thralls and own him as their lord. as soon as the contests were over, siegfried had slipped back to the ship and hidden his cloak of darkness. then boldly he came back to the great hall, and pretending to know nothing of the games begged to be told who had been the victor, if indeed they had already taken place. when he had heard that queen brunhild had been vanquished, the hero laughed, and cried gaily, "then, noble maiden, thou must go with us to rhineland to wed king gunther." "a strange way for a vassal to speak," thought the angry queen, and she answered with a proud glance at the knight, "nay, that will i not do until i have summoned my kinsmen and my good lieges. for i will myself say farewell to them ere ever i will go to rhineland." thus heralds were sent throughout brunhild's realms, and soon from morn to eve her kinsmen and her liegemen rode into the castle, until it seemed as though a mighty army were assembling. "does the maiden mean to wage war against us," said hagen grimly. "i like not the number of her warriors." then said siegfried, "i will leave thee for a little while and go across the sea, and soon will i return with a thousand brave warriors, so that no evil may befall us." so the prince went down alone to the little ship and set sail across the sea. vii siegfried and the princess the ship in which siegfried set sail drifted on before the wind, while those in queen brunhild's castle marveled, for no one was to be seen on board. this was because the hero had again donned his cloak of darkness. on and on sailed the little ship until at length it drew near to the land of the nibelungs. then siegfried left his vessel and again climbed the mountain-side, where long before he had cut off the heads of the little nibelung princes. he reached the cave into which he had thrust the treasure, and knocked loudly at the door. the cave was the entrance to nibelheim the dark, little town beneath the glad, green grass. siegfried might have entered the cave, but he knocked that he might see if the treasure were well guarded. then the porter, who was a great giant, when he heard the knock buckled on his armor and opened the door. seeing, as he thought in his haste, a strange knight standing before him he fell upon him with a bar of iron. so strong was the giant that it was with difficulty that the prince overcame him and bound him hand and foot. alberich meanwhile had heard the mighty blows, which indeed had shaken nibelheim to its foundations. now the dwarf had sworn fealty to siegfried, and when he, as the giant had done, mistook the prince for a stranger, he seized a heavy whip with a gold handle and rushed upon him, smiting his shield with the knotted whip until it fell to pieces. too pleased that his treasures were so well defended to be angry, siegfried now seized the little dwarf by his beard, and pulled it so long and so hard that alberich was forced to cry for mercy. then siegfried bound him hand and foot as he had done the giant. alberich, poor little dwarf, gnashed his teeth with rage. who would guard the treasure now, and who would warn his master that a strong man had found his way to nibelheim? but in the midst of his fears he heard the stranger's merry laugh. nay, it was no stranger, none but the hero-prince could laugh thus merrily. "i am siegfried your master," then said the prince. "i did but test thy faithfulness, alberich," and laughing still, the hero undid the cords with which he had bound the giant and the dwarf. "call me here quickly the nibelung warriors," cried siegfried, "for i have need of them." and soon thirty thousand warriors stood before him in shining armor. choosing one thousand of the strongest and biggest, the prince marched with them down to the seashore. there they embarked in ships and sailed away to isenland. now it chanced that queen brunhild was walking on the terrace of her sea-guarded castle with king gunther when she saw a number of sails approaching. "whose can these ships be?" she cried in quick alarm. "these are my warriors who have followed me from burgundy," answered the king, for thus had siegfried bidden him speak. "we will go to welcome the fleet," said brunhild, and together they met the brave nibelung army and lodged them in isenland. "now will i give of my silver and my gold to my liegemen and to gunther's warriors," said queen brunhild, and she held out the keys of her treasury to dankwart that he might do her will. but so lavishly did the knight bestow her gold and her costly gems and her rich raiment upon the warriors that the queen grew angry. "naught shall i have left to take with me to rhineland," she cried aloud in her vexation. "in burgundy," answered hagen, "there is gold enough and to spare. thou wilt not need the treasures of isenland." but these words did not content the queen. she would certainly take at least twenty coffers of gold as well as jewels and silks with her to king gunther's land. at length, leaving isenland to the care of her brother, queen brunhild, with twenty hundred of her own warriors as a bodyguard, with eighty-six dames and one hundred maidens, set out for the royal city of worms. for nine days the great company journeyed homeward, and then king gunther entreated siegfried to be his herald to worms. "beg queen uté and the princess kriemhild," said the king, "beg them to ride forth to meet my bride and to prepare to hold high festival in honor of the wedding-feast." thus siegfried with four-and-twenty knights sailed on more swiftly than the other ships, and landing at the mouth of the river rhine, rode hastily toward the royal city. the queen and her daughter, clad in their robes of state, received the hero, and his heart was glad, for once again he stood in the presence of his dear lady, kriemhild. "be welcome, my lord siegfried," she cried, "thou worthy knight, be welcome. but where is my brother? has he been vanquished by the warrior-queen? oh, woe is me if he is lost, wo is me that ever i was born," and the tears rolled down the maiden's cheeks. "nay, now," said the prince, "thy brother is well and of good cheer. i have come, a herald of glad tidings. for even now the king is on his way to worms, bringing with him his hard-won bride." then the princess dried her tears, and graciously did she bid the hero to sit by her side. "i would i might give thee a reward for thy services," said the gentle maiden, "but too rich art thou to receive my gold." "a gift from thy hands would gladden my heart," said the gallant prince. blithely then did kriemhild send for four-and-twenty buckles, all inlaid with precious stones, and these did she give to siegfried. siegfried bent low before the lady kriemhild, for well did he love the gracious giver, yet would he not keep for himself her gifts, but gave them, in his courtesy, to her four-and-twenty maidens. then the prince told queen uté that the king begged her and the princess to ride forth from worms to greet his bride, and to prepare to hold high festival in the royal city. "it shall be done even as the king desires," said the queen, while kriemhild sat silent, smiling with gladness, because her knight sir siegfried had come home. in joy and merriment the days flew by, while the court at worms prepared to hold high festival in honor of king gunther's matchless bride. as the royal ships drew near, queen uté and the princess kriemhild, accompanied by many a gallant knight, rode along the banks of the rhine to greet queen brunhild. already the king had disembarked, and was leading his bride toward his gracious mother. courteously did queen uté welcome the stranger, while kriemhild kissed her and clasped her in her arms. some, as they gazed upon the lovely maidens, said that the warlike queen brunhild was more beautiful than the gentle princess kriemhild, but others, and these were the wiser, said that none could excel the peerless sister of the king. in the great plain of worms silk tents and gay pavilions had been placed. and there the ladies took shelter from the heat, while before them knights and warriors held a gay tournament. then, in the cool of the evening, a gallant train of lords and ladies, they rode toward the castle at worms. queen uté and her daughter went to their own apartments, while the king with brunhild went into the banquet-hall where the wedding-feast was spread. but ere the feast had begun, siegfried came and stood before the king. "sire," he said, "hast thou forgotten thy promise, that when brunhild entered the royal city thy lady sister should be my bride?" "nay," cried the king, "my royal word do i ever keep," and going out into the hall he sent for the princess. "dear sister," said gunther, as she bowed before him, "i have pledged my word to a warrior that thou wilt become his bride, wilt thou help me to keep my promise?" now siegfried was standing by the king's side as he spoke. then the gentle maiden answered meekly, "thy will, dear brother, is ever mine. i will take as lord him to whom thou hast promised my hand." and she glanced shyly at siegfried, for surely this was the warrior to whom her royal brother had pledged his word. right glad then was the king, and siegfried grew rosy with delight as he received the lady's troth. then together they went to the banquet-hall, and on a throne next to king gunther sat the hero-prince, the lady kriemhild by his side. when the banquet was ended, the king was wedded to queen brunhild, and siegfried to the maiden whom he loved so well, and though he had no crown to place upon her brow, the princess was well content. hero of france roland adapted by h.e. marshall i blancandrin's mission for seven long years the great emperor charlemagne had been fighting in spain against the saracens; saragossa alone remained unconquered, but word had gone forth that it, too, was doomed. king marsil, not knowing how to save his city from the conqueror, called a council of his wise men. blancandrin, a knight of great valor, was chosen with ten others to set out with olive-branches in their hands, followed by a great train of slaves bearing presents, to seek the court of the great christian king and sue for peace. bending low before charlemagne, blancandrin promised for king marsil vassalage to the emperor and baptism in the name of the holy christ. to assure the truth of his words, he said "we will give thee hostages, i will even send my own son if we keep not faith with thee." in the morning charlemagne called his wise men and told them the message of blancandrin. then roland, one of the twelve chosen knights and the nephew of charlemagne, rose flushed with anger and cried, "believe not this marsil, he was ever a traitor. carry the war to saragossa. war! i say war!" ganelon a knight, who hated roland, strode to the foot of the throne, saying, "listen not to the counsel of fools but accept king marsil's gifts and promises." following the counsel of duke naimes the wisest of the court, charlemagne declared that some one should be sent to king marsil and asked the lords whom he should send. "send me," cried roland. "nay," said oliver, "let me go rather." but the emperor said, "not a step shall ye go, either one or other of you." "ah!" said roland, "if i may not go, then send ganelon my stepfather." "good!" replied the great emperor, "ganelon it shall be." ganelon trembled with passion and said, "this is roland's work," for he knew he would never return alive to his wife and child. the quarrel between roland and ganelon was bitter indeed. "i hate thee," ganelon hissed at last. "i hate thee!" then, struggling to be calm, he turned to the emperor and said, "i am ready to do thy will." "fair sir ganelon," said charlemagne, "this is my message to the heathen king marsil. say to him that he shall bend the knee to gentle christ and be baptized in his name. then will i give him full half of spain to hold in fief. over the other half count roland, my nephew, well beloved, shall reign." without a word of farewell ganelon went to his own house. there he clad himself in his finest armor. commending his wife and child to the care of the knights who pressed round to bid him godspeed, ganelon, with bent head, turned slowly from their sight and rode to join the heathen blancandrin. ii ganelon's treason as ganelon and blancandrin rode along together beneath the olive-trees and through the fruitful vineyards of sunny spain, the heathen began to talk cunningly. "what a wonderful knight is thy emperor," he said. "he hath conquered the world from sea to sea. but why cometh he within our borders? why left he us not in peace?" "it was his will," replied ganelon. "there is no man in all the world so great as he. none may stand against him." "you franks are gallant men indeed," said blancandrin, "but your dukes and counts deserve blame when they counsel the emperor to fight with us now." "there is none deserveth that blame save roland," said ganelon. "such pride as his ought to be punished. oh, that some one would slay him!" he cried fiercely. "then should we have peace." "this roland is very cruel," said blancandrin, "to wish to conquer all the world as he does. but in whom does he trust for help?" "in the franks," said ganelon. "they love him with such a great love that they think he can do no wrong. he giveth them gold and silver, jewels and armor, so they serve him. even to the emperor himself he maketh rich presents. he will not rest until he hath conquered all the world, from east to west." the saracen looked at ganelon out of the corner of his eye. he was a noble knight, but now that his face was dark with wrath and jealousy, he looked like a felon. "listen thou to me," said blancandrin softly. "dost wish to be avenged upon roland? then, by mahomet! deliver him into our hands. king marsil is very generous; for such a kindness he will willingly give unto thee of his countless treasure." ganelon heard the tempter's voice, but he rode onward as if unheeding, his chin sunken upon his breast, his eyes dark with hatred. but long ere the ride was ended and saragossa reached, the heathen lord and christian knight had plotted together for the ruin of roland. at length the journey was over, and ganelon lighted down before king marsil, who awaited him beneath the shadow of his orchard-trees, seated upon a marble throne covered with rich silken rugs. around him crowded his nobles, silent and eager to learn how blancandrin had fared upon his errand. bowing low, blancandrin approached the throne, leading ganelon by the hand. "greeting," he said, "in the name of mahomet. well, o marsil, have i done thy behest to the mighty christian king. but save that he raised his hands to heaven and gave thanks to his god, no answer did he render to me. but unto thee he sendeth one of his nobles, a very powerful man in france. from him shalt thou learn if thou shalt have peace or war." "let him speak," said king marsil. "we will listen." "greeting," said ganelon, "in the name of god--the god of glory whom we ought all to adore. listen ye to the command of charlemagne: thou, o king, shalt receive the christian faith, then half of spain will he leave to thee to hold in fief. the other half shall be given to count roland--a haughty companion thou wilt have there. if thou wilt not agree to this, charlemagne will besiege saragossa, and thou shalt be led captive to aix, there to die a vile and shameful death." king marsil shook with anger and turned pale. in his hand he held an arrow fledged with gold. now, springing from his throne, he raised his arm as if he would strike ganelon. but the knight laid his hand upon his sword and drew it half out of the scabbard. "sword," he cried, "thou art bright and beautiful; oft have i carried thee at the court of my king. it shall never be said of me that i died alone in a foreign land, among fierce foes, ere thou wert dipped in the blood of their bravest and best." for a few moments the heathen king and the christian knight eyed each other in deep silence. then the air was filled with shouts. "part them, part them!" cried the saracens. the noblest of the saracens rushed between their king and ganelon. "it was a foolish trick to raise thy hand against the christian knight," said marsil's calif, seating him once more upon his throne. "'twere well to listen to what he hath to say." "sir," said ganelon proudly, "thinkest thou for all the threats in the wide world i will be silent and not speak the message which the mighty charlemagne sendeth to his mortal enemy? nay, i would speak, if ye were all against me." and keeping his right hand still upon the golden pommel of his sword, with his left he unclasped his cloak of fur and silk and cast it upon the steps of the throne. there, in his strength and splendor, he stood defying them all. "'tis a noble knight!" cried the heathen in admiration. then once more turning to king marsil, ganelon gave him the emperor's letter. as he broke the seal and read, marsil's brow grew black with anger. "listen, my lords," he cried; "because i slew yonder insolent christian knights, the emperor charlemagne bids me beware his wrath. he commands that i shall send unto him as hostage mine uncle the calif." "this is some madness of ganelon!" cried a heathen knight. "he is only worthy of death. give him unto me, and i will see that justice is done upon him." so saying, he laid his hand upon his sword. like a flash of lightning ganelon's good blade murglies sprang from its sheath, and with his back against a tree, the christian knight prepared to defend himself to the last. but once again the fight was stopped, and this time blancandrin led ganelon away. then, walking alone with the king, blancandrin told of all that he had done, and of how even upon the way hither, ganelon had promised to betray roland, who was charlemagne's greatest warrior. "and if he die," said blancandrin, "then is our peace sure." "bring hither the christian knight to me," cried king marsil. so blancandrin went, and once more leading ganelon by the hand, brought him before the king. "fair sir ganelon," said the wily heathen, "i did a rash and foolish thing when in anger i raised my hand to strike at thee. as a token that thou wilt forget it, accept this cloak of sable. it is worth five hundred pieces of gold." and lifting a rich cloak, he clasped it about the neck of ganelon. "i may not refuse it," said the knight, looking down. "may heaven reward thee!" "trust me, sir ganelon," said king marsil, "i love thee well. but keep thou our counsels secret. i would hear thee talk of charlemagne. he is very old, is he not?--more than two hundred years old. he must be worn out and weary, for he hath fought so many battles and humbled so many kings in the dust. he ought to rest now from his labors in his city of aix." ganelon shook his head. "nay," he said, "such is not charlemagne. all those who have seen him know that our emperor is a true warrior. i know not how to praise him enough before you, for there is nowhere a man so full of valor and of goodness. i would rather die than leave his service." "in truth," said marsil, "i marvel greatly. i had thought that charlemagne had been old and worn. then if it is not so, when will he cease his wars?" "ah," said ganelon, "that he will never do so long as his nephew roland lives. under the arch of heaven there bides no baron so splendid or so proud. oliver, his friend, also is full of prowess and of valor. with them and his peers beside him, charlemagne feareth no man." "fair sir ganelon," said king marsil boldly, knowing his hatred, "tell me, how shall i slay roland?" "that i can tell thee," said ganelon. "promise thou the emperor all that he asketh of thee. send hostages and presents to him. he will then return to france. his army will pass through the valley of roncesvalles. i will see to it that roland and his friend oliver lead the rear-guard. they will lag behind the rest of the army, then there shalt thou fall upon them with all thy mighty men. i say not but that thou shalt lose many a knight, for roland and his peers will fight right manfully. but in the end, being so many more than they, thou shalt conquer. roland shall lie dead, and slaying him thou wilt cut off the right arm of charlemagne. then farewell to the wondrous army of france. never again shall charlemagne gather such a company, and within the borders of spain there shall be peace for evermore." when ganelon had finished speaking, the king threw his arms about his neck and kissed him. then turning to his slaves, he commanded them to bring great treasure of gold, and silver and precious stones, and lay it at the feet of the knight. "but swear to me," said marsil, "that roland shall be in the rear-guard, and swear to me his death." and ganelon, laying his hand upon his sword murglies, swore by the holy relics therein, that he would bring roland to death. then came a heathen knight who gave to ganelon a sword, the hilt of which glittered with gems so that the eyes were dazzled in looking upon it. "let but roland be in the rear-guard," he said, "and it is thine." then he kissed ganelon on both cheeks. soon another heathen knight followed him, laughing joyfully. "here is my helmet," he cried. "it is the richest and best ever beaten out of steel. it is thine so that thou truly bring roland to death and shame." and he, too, kissed ganelon. next came bramimonde, marsil's queen. she was very beautiful. her dark hair was strung with pearls, and her robes of silk and gold swept the ground. her hands were full of glittering gems. bracelets and necklaces of gold, rubies and sapphires fell from her white fingers. "take these," she said, "to thy fair lady. tell her that queen bramimonde sends them to her because of the great service thou hast done." and bowing low, she poured the sparkling jewels into ganelon's hands. thus did the heathen reward ganelon for his treachery. "ho there!" called king marsil to his treasurer, "are my gifts for the emperor ready?" "yea, sire," answered the treasurer, "seven hundred camels' load of silver and gold and twenty hostages, the noblest of the land; all are ready." then king marsil leant his hand on ganelon's shoulder. "wise art thou and brave," he said, "but in the name of all thou holdest sacred, forget not thy promise unto me. see, i give thee ten mules laden with richest treasure, and every year i will send to thee as much again. now take the keys of my city gates, take the treasure and the hostages made ready for thine emperor. give them all to him, tell him that i yield to him all that he asks, but forget not thy promise that roland shall ride in the rear-guard." impatient to be gone, ganelon shook the king's hand from his shoulder. "let me tarry no longer," he cried. then springing to horse he rode swiftly away. meanwhile charlemagne lay encamped, awaiting marsil's answer. and as one morning he sat beside his tent, with his lords and mighty men around him, a great cavalcade appeared in the distance. and presently ganelon, the traitor, drew rein before him. softly and smoothly he began his treacherous tale. "god keep you," he cried; "here i bring the keys of saragossa, with treasure rich and rare, seven hundred camels' load of silver and gold and twenty hostages of the noblest of the heathen host. and king marsil bids me say, thou shalt not blame him that his uncle the calif comes not too, for he is dead. i myself saw him as he set forth with three hundred thousand armed men upon the sea. their vessels sank ere they had gone far from the land, and he and they were swallowed in the waves." thus ganelon told his lying tale. "now praised be heaven!" cried charlemagne. "and thanks, my trusty ganelon, for well hast thou sped. at length my wars are done, and home to gentle france we ride." so the trumpets were sounded, and soon the great army, with pennons waving and armor glittering in the sunshine, was rolling onward through the land, like a gleaming mighty river. but following the christian army, through valleys deep and dark, by pathways secret and unknown, crept the heathen host. they were clad in shining steel from head to foot, swords were by their sides, lances were in their hands, and bitter hatred in their hearts. four hundred thousand strong they marched in stealthy silence. and, alas! the franks knew it not. when night came the franks encamped upon the plain. and high upon the mountain-sides, in a dark forest the heathen kept watch upon them. in the midst of his army king charlemagne lay, and as he slept he dreamed he stood alone in the valley of roncesvalles, spear in hand. there to him came ganelon, who seized his spear and broke it in pieces before his eyes, and the noise of the breaking was as the noise of thunder. in his sleep charlemagne stirred uneasily, but he did not wake. the vision passed, and again he dreamed. it seemed to him that he was now in his own city of aix. suddenly from out a forest a leopard sprang upon him. but even as its fangs closed upon his arm, a faithful hound came bounding from his hall and fell upon the savage beast with fury. fiercely the hound grappled with the leopard. snarling and growling they rolled over and over. now the hound was uppermost, now the leopard. "tis a splendid fight!" cried the franks who watched. but who should win, the emperor knew not, for the vision faded, and still he slept. the night passed and dawn came. a thousand trumpets sounded, the camp was all astir, and the franks made ready once more to march. but charlemagne was grave and thoughtful, musing on the dream that he had dreamed. "my knights and barons," he said, "mark well the country through which we pass. these valleys are steep and straight. it would go ill with us did the false saracen forget his oath, and fall upon us as we pass. to whom therefore shall i trust the rear-guard that we may march in surety?" "give the command to my stepson, roland, there is none so brave as he," said ganelon. as charlemagne listened he looked at ganelon darkly. "thou art a very demon," he said. "what rage possesseth thee? and if i give command of the rear to roland, who, then, shall lead the van?" "there is ogier the dane," said ganelon quickly, "who better?" still charlemagne looked darkly at him. he would not that roland should hear, for well he knew his adventurous spirit. but already roland had heard. "i ought to love thee well, sir stepsire," he cried, "for this day hast thou named me for honor. i will take good heed that our emperor lose not the least of his men, nor charger, palfrey, nor mule that is not paid for by stroke of sword." "that know i right well," replied ganelon, "therefore have i named thee." then to charlemagne roland turned, "give me the bow of office, sire, and let me take command," he said. but the emperor sat with bowed head. in and out of his long white beard he twisted his fingers. tears stood in his eyes, and he kept silence. such was his love for roland and fear lest evil should befall him. then spoke duke naimes, "give the command unto roland, sire; there is none better." so, silently, charlemagne held out the bow of office, and kneeling, roland took it. then was ganelon's wicked heart glad. "nephew," said charlemagne, "half my host i leave with thee." "nay, sire," answered roland proudly, "twenty thousand only shall remain with me. the rest of ye may pass onward in all surety, for while i live ye have naught to fear." then in his heart ganelon laughed. so the mighty army passed onward through the vale of roncesvalles without doubt or dread, for did not roland the brave guard the rear? with him remained oliver his friend, turpin, the bold archbishop of rheims, all the peers, and twenty thousand more of the bravest knights of france. as the great army wound along, the hearts of the men were glad. for seven long years they had been far from home, and now soon they would see their dear ones again. but the emperor rode among them sadly with bowed head. his fingers again twined themselves in his long white beard, tears once more stood in his eyes. beside him rode duke naimes. "tell me, sire," he said, "what grief oppresseth thee?" "alas," said charlemagne, "by ganelon france is betrayed. this night i dreamed i saw him break my lance in twain. and this same ganelon it is that puts my nephew in the rear-guard. and i, i have left him in a strange land. if he die, where shall i find such another?" it was in vain that duke naimes tried to comfort the emperor. he would not be comforted, and all the hearts of that great company were filled with fearful, boding dread for roland. iii roland's pride meanwhile king marsil was gathering all his host. from far and near came the heathen knights, all impatient to fight, each one eager to have the honor of slaying roland with his own hand, each swearing that none of the twelve peers should ever again see france. among them was a great champion called chernuble. he was huge and ugly and his strength was such that he could lift with ease a burden which four mules could scarcely carry. his face was inky black, his lips thick and hideous, and his coarse long hair reached the ground. it was said that in the land from whence he came, the sun never shone, the rain never fell, and the very stones were black as coal. he too, swearing that the franks should die and that france should perish, joined the heathen host. very splendid were the saracens as they moved along in the gleaming sunshine. gold and silver shone upon their armor, pennons of white and purple floated over them, and from a thousand trumpets sounded their battle-song. to the ears of the frankish knights the sound was borne as they rode through the valley of roncesvalles. "sir comrade," said oliver, "it seemeth me there is battle at hand with the saracen foe." "please heaven it may be so," said roland. "our duty is to hold this post for our emperor. let us strike mighty blows, that nothing be said or sung of us in scorn. let us fight these heathen for our country and our faith." as oliver heard the sounds of battle come nearer, he climbed to the top of the hill, so that he could see far over the country. there before him he saw the saracens marching in pride. their helmets, inlaid with gold, gleamed in the sun. gaily painted shields, hauberks of shining steel, spears and pennons waved and shone, rank upon rank in countless numbers. quickly oliver came down from the hill, and went back to the frankish army. "i have seen the heathen," he said to roland. "never on earth hath such a host been gathered. they march upon us many hundred thousand strong, with shield and spear and sword. such battle as awaiteth us have we never fought before." "let him be accursed who fleeth!" cried the franks. "there be few among us who fear death." "it is ganelon the felon, who hath betrayed us," said oliver, "let him be accursed." "hush thee, oliver," said roland; "he is my stepsire. let us hear no evil of him." "the heathen are in fearful force," said oliver, "and our franks are but few. friend roland, sound upon thy horn. then will charlemagne hear and return with all his host to help us." for round roland's neck there hung a magic horn of carved ivory. if he blew upon this in case of need, the sound of it would be carried over hill and dale, far, far onward. if he sounded it now, charlemagne would very surely hear, and return from his homeward march. but roland would not listen to oliver. "nay," he said, "i should indeed be mad to sound upon my horn. if i call for help, i, roland, i should lose my fame in all fair france. nay, i will not sound, but i shall strike such blows with my good sword durindal that the blade shall be red to the gold of the hilt. our franks, too, shall strike such blows that the heathen shall rue the day. i tell thee, they be all dead men." "oh roland, friend, wind thy horn," pleaded oliver. "to the ear of charlemagne shall the sound be borne, and he and all his knights will return to help us." "now heaven forbid that my kin should ever be pointed at in scorn because of me," said roland, "or that fair france should fall to such dishonor. no! i will not sound upon my horn, but i shall strike such blows with my sword durindal that the blade shall be dyed red in the blood of the heathen." in vain oliver implored. "i see no dishonor shouldst thou wind thy horn," he said, "for i have beheld the saracen host. the valleys and the hills and all the plains are covered with them. they are many and great, and we are but a little company." "so much the better," cried roland, "my desire to fight them grows the greater. all the angels of heaven forbid that france, through me, should lose one jot of fame. death is better than dishonor. let us strike such blows as our emperor loveth to see." roland was rash as oliver was wise, but both were knights of wondrous courage, and now oliver pleaded no more. "look," he cried, "look where the heathen come! thou hast scorned, roland, to sound thy horn, and our noble men will this day do their last deeds of bravery." "hush!" cried roland, "shame to him who weareth a coward's heart." and now archbishop turpin spurred his horse to a little hill in front of the army. "my lords and barons," he cried, turning to them, "charlemagne hath left us here to guard the homeward march of his army. he is our king, and we are bound to die for him, if so need be. but now, before ye fight, confess your sins, and pray god to forgive them. if ye die, ye die as martyrs. in god's great paradise your places await you." then the franks leapt from their horses and kneeled upon the ground while the archbishop blessed them, and absolved them from all their sins. "for penance i command that ye strike the heathen full sore," he said. then springing from their knees the franks leapt again into their saddles, ready now to fight and die. "friend," said roland, turning to oliver, "thou wert right. it is ganelon who is the traitor. but the emperor will avenge us upon him. as for marsil, he deemeth that he hath bought us, and that ganelon hath sold us unto him. but he will find it is with our swords that we will pay him." and now the battle began. "montjoie!" shouted the franks. it was the emperor's own battle-cry. it means "my joy," and came from the name of his famous sword joyeuse or joyous. this sword was the most wonderful ever seen. thirty times a day the shimmering light with which it glowed changed. in the gold of the hilt was encased the head of the spear with which the side of christ had been pierced. and because of this great honor the emperor called his sword joyeuse, and from that the franks took their battle-cry "montjoie." now shouting it, and plunging spurs into their horses' sides, they dashed upon the foe. never before had been such pride of chivalry, such splendor of knightly grace. with boasting words, king marsil's nephew came riding in front of the battle. "ho, felon franks!" he cried, "ye are met at last. betrayed and sold are ye by your king. this day hath france lost her fair fame, and from charlemagne is his right hand torn." roland heard him. with spur in side and slackened rein, he dashed upon the heathen, mad with rage. through shield and hauberk pierced his spear, and the saracen fell dead ere his scoffing words were done. "thou dastard!" cried roland, "no traitor is charlemagne, but a right noble king and cavalier." king marsil's brother, sick at heart to see his nephew fall, rode out with mocking words upon his lips. "this day is the honor of france lost," he sneered. but oliver struck his golden spurs into his steed's side! "caitiff, thy taunts are little worth," he cried, and, pierced through shield and buckler, the heathen fell. bishop turpin, too, wielded both sword and lance. "thou lying coward, be silent evermore!" he cried, as a scoffing heathen king fell beneath his blows. "charlemagne our lord is true and good, and no frank shall flee this day." "montjoie! montjoie!" sounded high above the clang of battle, as heathen after heathen was laid low. limbs were lopped, armor flew in splinters. many a heathen knight was cloven from brow to saddle bow. the plain was strewn with the dying and the dead. in roland's hand his lance was shivered to the haft. throwing the splintered wood away, he drew his famous durindal. the naked blade shone in the sun and fell upon the helmet of chernuble, marsil's mighty champion. the sparkling gems with which it shone were scattered on the grass. through cheek and chine, through flesh and bone, drove the shining steel, and chernuble fell upon the ground, a black and hideous heap. "lie there, caitiff!" cried roland, "thy mahomet cannot save thee. not unto such as thou is the victory." on through the press rode roland. durindal flashed and fell and flashed again, and many a heathen bit the dust. oliver, too, did marvelous deeds. his spear, as roland's, was shivered into atoms. but scarcely knowing what he did, he fought still with the broken shaft, and with it brought many a heathen to his death. "comrade, what dost thou?" said roland. "is it now the time to fight with staves? where is thy sword called hauteclere with its crystal pommel and golden guard?" "i lacked time in which to draw it," replied oliver, "there was such need to strike blows fast and hard." but now he drew his shining hauteclere from its scabbard, and with it he dealt such blows that roland cried, "my brother art thou, oliver, from henceforth. ah! such blows our emperor would dearly love to see." furious and more furious waxed the fight. on all sides might be heard the cry of "montjoie! montjoie!" and many a blow did frank and heathen give and take. but although thousands of saracens lay dead, the franks too had lost many of their bravest knights. shield and spear, banner and pennon, broken, bloodstained and trampled, strewed the field. fiercer, wilder still, the battle grew. roland, oliver, archbishop turpin and all the twelve peers of france fought in the thickest of the press. many of the heathen fled, but even in flight they were cut down. meanwhile over france burst a fearful storm. thunder rolled, lightning flashed, the very earth shook and trembled. there was not a town in all the land but the walls of it were cracked and riven. the sky grew black at midday, rain and hail in torrents swept the land. "it is the end of the world," the people whispered in trembling fear. alas, they knew not! it was the earth's great mourning for the death of roland, which was nigh. the battle waxed horrible. the saracens fled, and the franks pursued till of that great heathen host but one was left. of the saracen army which had set out in such splendor, four hundred thousand strong, one heathen king alone remained. and he, king margaris, sorely wounded, his spear broken, his shield pierced and battered, fled with the direful news to king marsil. the franks had won the day, and now mournfully over the plain they moved, seeking their dead and dying comrades. weary men and worn were they, sad at the death of many brother knights, yet glad at the might and victory of france. iv roland sounds his horn alone, king margaris fled, weary and wounded, until he reached king marsil, and fell panting at his feet. "ride! ride! sire," he cried, "thy army is shattered, thy knights to the last man lie dead upon the field; but thou wilt find the franks in evil plight. full half of them also lie dead. the rest are sore wounded and weary. their armor is broken, their swords and spears are shattered. they have naught wherewith to defend themselves. to avenge the death of thy knights were now easy. ride! oh, ride!" in terrible wrath and sorrow king marsil gathered a new army. in twenty columns through the valleys they came marching. the sun shone upon the gems and goldwork of their helmets, upon lances and pennons, upon buckler and embroidered surcoat. seven thousand trumpets sounded to the charge, and the wind carried the clamor afar. "oliver, my comrade," said roland, when he heard it, "oliver, my brother, the traitor ganelon hath sworn our death. here his treachery is plainly to be seen. but the emperor will bring upon him a terrible vengeance. as for us, we must fight again a battle fierce and keen. i will strike with my trusty durindal and thou with thy hauteclere bright. we have already carried them with honor in many battles. with them we have won many a victory. no man may say scorn of us." and so once again the franks made ready for battle. but king marsil was a wily foe. "hearken, my barons all," he cried, "roland is a prince of wondrous strength. two battles are not enough to vanquish him. he shall have three. half of ye shall go forward now, and half remain with me until the franks are utterly exhausted. then shall ye attack them. then shall we see the day when the might of charlemagne shall fall and france shall perish in shame." so king marsil stayed upon the hillside while half of his knights marched upon the franks with battle-cry and trumpet-call. "oh heaven, what cometh now!" cried the franks as they heard the sound. "wo, wo, that ever we saw ganelon the felon." then spoke the brave archbishop to them. "now it is certain that we shall die. but it is better to die sword in hand than in slothful ease. now is the day when ye shall receive great honor. now is the day that ye shall win your crown of flowers. the gates of paradise are glorious, but therein no coward shall enter." "we will not fail to enter," cried the franks. "it is true that we are but few, but we are bold and stanch," and striking their golden spurs into their chargers' flanks, they rode to meet the foe. once more the noise and dust of battle rose. once more the plain was strewn with dead, and the green grass was crimson-dyed, and scattered wide were jewels and gold, splintered weapons, and shattered armor. fearful was the slaughter, mighty the deeds of valor done, until at last the heathen broke and fled amain. after them in hot pursuit rode the franks. their bright swords flashed and fell again and again, and all the way was marked with dead. at length the heathen cries of despair reached even to where king marsil stayed upon the hillside. "marsil, oh our king! ride, ride, we have need of thee!" they cried. even to the king's feet the franks pursued the fleeing foe, slaying them before his face. then marsil, mounting upon his horse, led his last knights against the fearful foe. the franks were nigh exhausted, but still three hundred swords flashed in the sunlight, three hundred hearts still beat with hope and courage. as roland watched oliver ever in the thickest of the fight, dealing blow upon blow unceasingly, his heart swelled anew with love for him. "oh, my comrade leal and true," he cried, "alas! this day shall end our love. alas! this day we shall part on earth for ever." oliver heard him and through the press of fighting he urged his horse to roland's side. "friend," he said, "keep near to me. so it please god we shall at least die together." on went the fight, fiercer and fiercer yet, till but sixty weary franks were left. then, sadly gazing upon the stricken field, roland turned to oliver. "behold! our bravest lie dead," he cried. "well may france weep, for she is shorn of all her most valiant knights. oh my emperor, my friend, alas, why wert thou not here? oliver, my brother, how shall we speed him now our mournful news?" "i know not," said oliver sadly, "rather come death now than any craven deed." "i will sound upon my horn," said roland, all his pride broken and gone. "i will sound upon my horn. charlemagne will hear it and the franks will return to our aid." "shame would that be," cried oliver. "our kin would blush for us and be dishonored all their days. when i prayed of thee thou wouldst not sound thy horn, and now it is not i who will consent to it. sound upon thy horn! no! there is no courage, no wisdom in that now. had the emperor been here we had been saved. but now it is too late, for all is lost. nay," he cried in rising wrath, "if ever i see again my fair sister aude, i swear to thee thou shalt never hold her in thine arms. never shall she be bride of thine." for roland loved oliver's beautiful sister aude and was loved by her, and when roland would return to france she had promised to be his bride. "ah, oliver, why dost thou speak to me with so much anger and hate," cried roland sadly. "because it is thy fault that so many franks lie dead this day," answered oliver. "it is thy folly that hath slain them. hadst thou done as i prayed thee our master charlemagne had been here. this battle had been fought and won. marsil had been taken and slain. thy madness it is, roland, that hath wrought our fate. henceforward we can serve charlemagne never more. and now here endeth our loyal friendship. oh, bitter the parting this night shall see." with terrible grief in his heart, stricken dumb with misery and pain, roland gazed upon his friend. but archbishop turpin had heard the strife between the two, and setting spurs to his horse he rode swiftly towards them. "sir roland, and you, sir oliver," he cried, "i pray you strive not thus. see! we all must die, and thy horn, roland, can avail nothing now. great karl is too far and would return too late. yet it were well to sound it. for the emperor when he hears it will come to avenge our fall, and the heathen will not return joyously to their homes. when the franks come, they will alight from their horses, they will find our bodies, and will bury them with mourning and with tears, so we shall rest in hallowed graves, and the beasts of the field shall not tear our bones asunder." "it is well said," cried roland. then to his lips he laid his horn, and taking a deep breath he blew mightily upon it. with all the strength left in his weary body he blew. full, and clear, and high the horn sounded. from mountain peak to mountain peak the note was echoed, till to the camp of charlemagne, full thirty leagues away, it came. then as he heard it, sweet and faint, borne upon the summer wind, the emperor drew rein, and bent his ear to listen. "our men give battle; it is the horn of roland," he cried. "nay," laughed ganelon scornfully, "nay, sire, had any man but thee said it i had deemed he lied." so slowly and sad at heart, with many a backward glance, the emperor rode on. again roland put his horn to his mouth. he was weary now and faint. blood was upon his pale lips, the blue veins in his temples stood out like cords. very mournfully he blew upon his horn, but the sound of it was carried far, very far, although it was so feeble and so low. again to the soft, sweet note charlemagne bent his ear. duke naimes, too, and all the frankish knights, paused at the sound. "it is the horn of roland," cried the emperor, "and very surely had there been no battle, he had not sounded it." "there is no battle," said ganelon in fretful tones. "thou art grown old and fearful. thou talkest as a frightened child. well thou knowest the pride of roland, the strong, bold, great and boastful roland, that god hath suffered so long upon his earth. for one hare roland would sound his horn all day long. doubtless now he laughs among his peers. and besides, who would dare to attack roland? who so bold? of a truth there is none. ride on, sire, ride on. why halt? our fair land is still very far in front." so again, yet more unwillingly, the emperor rode on. crimson-stained were the lips of roland. his cheeks were sunken and white, yet once again he raised his horn. faintly now, in sadness and in anguish, once again he blew. the soft, sweet notes took on a tone so pitiful, they wrung the very heart of charlemagne, where, full thirty leagues afar, he onward rode. "that horn is very long of breath," he sighed, looking backward anxiously. "it is roland," cried duke naimes. "it is roland who suffers yonder. on my soul, i swear, there is battle. some one hath betrayed him. if i mistake not, it is he who now deceives thee. arm, sire, arm! sound the trumpets of war. long enough hast thou hearkened to the plaint of roland." quickly the emperor gave command. quickly the army turned about, and came marching backward. the evening sunshine fell upon their pennons of crimson, gold and blue, it gleamed upon helmet and corslet, upon lance and shield. fiercely rode the knights. "oh, if we but reach roland before he die," they cried, "oh, what blows we will strike for him." alas! alas! they are late, too late! the evening darkened, night came, yet on they rode. through all the night they rode, and when at length the rising sun gleamed like flame upon helmet, and hauberk and flowing pennon, they still pressed onward. foremost the emperor rode, sunk in sad thought, his fingers twisted in his long white beard which flowed over his cuirass, his eyes filled with tears. behind him galloped his knights--strong men though they were, every one of them with a sob in his throat, a prayer in his heart, for roland, roland the brave and fearless. one knight only had anger in his heart. that knight was ganelon. and he by order of the emperor had been given over to the keeping of the kitchen knaves. calling the chief among them, "guard me well this felon," said charlemagne, "guard him as a traitor, who hath sold all mine house to death." then the chief scullion and a hundred of his fellows surrounded ganelon. they plucked him by the hair and buffeted him, each man giving him four sounding blows. around his neck they then fastened a heavy chain, and leading him as one might lead a dancing bear, they set him upon a common baggage-horse. thus they kept him until the time should come that charlemagne would ask again for the felon knight. v the return of charlemagne roland was dead and bright angels had already carried his soul to heaven, when charlemagne and all his host at last rode into the valley of roncesvalles. what a dreadful sight was there! not a path nor track, not a yard nor foot of ground but was covered with slain franks and heathen lying side by side in death. charlemagne gazed upon the scene with grief and horror. "where art thou, roland?" he called. "the archbishop, where is he? oliver, where art thou?" all the twelve peers he called by name. but none answered. the wind moaned over the field, fluttering here and there a fallen banner, but voice to answer there was none. "alas," sighed charlemagne, "what sorrow is mine that i was not here ere this battle was fought!" in and out of his long white beard his fingers twisted, and tears of grief and anger stood in his eyes. behind him, rank upon rank, crowded his knights and barons full of wrath and sorrow. not one among them but had lost a son or brother, a friend or comrade. for a time they stood dumb with grief and horror. then spoke duke naimes. wise in counsel, brave in battle was he. "look, sire," he cried, "look where two leagues from us the dust arises upon the great highway. there is gathered the army of the heathen. ride, sire, ride and avenge our wrongs." and so it was, for those who had fled from the battle-field were gathered together and were now crowding onward to saragossa. "alas!" said charlemagne, "they are already far away. yet they have taken from me the very flower of france, so for the sake of right and honor i will do as thou desirest." then the emperor called to him four of his chief barons. "rest here," he said, "guard the field, the valleys and the hills. leave the dead lying as they are, but watch well that neither lion nor any other savage beast come nigh to them. neither shall any servant or squire touch them. i forbid ye to let man lay hand upon them till we return." "sire we will do thy will," answered the four. then, leaving a thousand knights to be with them, charlemagne sounded his war trumpets, and the army set forth upon the pursuit of the heathen. furiously they rode and fast, but already the foe was far. anxiously the emperor looked to the sun as it slowly went down toward the west. night was at hand and the enemy still afar. then, alighting from his horse, charlemagne kneeled upon the green grass. "oh lord, i pray thee," he cried, "make the sun to stop. say thou to the night, 'wait.' say thou to the day, 'remain.'" and as the emperor prayed, his guardian angel stooped down and whispered to him, "ride onward, charlemagne! light shall not fail thee. thou hast lost the flower of france. the lord knoweth it right well. but thou canst now avenge thee upon the wicked. ride!" hearing these words, charlemagne sprang once more to horse and rode onward. and truly a miracle was done for him. the sun stood motionless in the sky, the heathen fled, the franks pursued, until in the valley of darkness they fell upon them and beat them with great slaughter. the heathen still fled, but the franks surrounded them, closing every path, and in front flowed the river ebro wide and deep. across it there was no bridge, upon it no boat, no barge. calling upon their gods tervagan and apollin and upon mahomet to save them, the heathen threw themselves into the water. but there no safety they found. many, weighted with their heavy armor, sank beneath the waves. others, carried by the tide, were swept away, and all were drowned, king marsil alone fleeing towards saragossa. when charlemagne saw that all his enemies were slain, he leapt from his horse, and, kneeling upon the ground, gave thanks to heaven. and even as he rose from his knees the sun went down and all the land was dim in twilight. "now is the hour of rest," said the emperor. "it is too late to return to roncesvalles, for our steeds are weary and exhausted. take off their saddles and their bridles, and let them refresh themselves upon the field." "sire, it is well said," replied the franks. so the knights, leaping from their horses, took saddle and bridle from them, and let them wander free upon the green meadows by the river-side. then, being very weary, the franks lay down upon the grass, all dressed as they were in their armor, and with their swords girded to their sides, and slept. so worn were they with battle and with grief, that none that night kept watch, but all alike slept. the emperor too slept upon the ground among his knights and barons. like them he lay in his armor. and his good sword joyeuse was girt about him. the night was clear and the moon shone brightly. and charlemagne, lying on the grass, thought bitterly of roland and of oliver, and of all the twelve peers of france who lay dead upon the field of roncesvalles. but at last, overcome with grief and weariness, he fell asleep. as the emperor slept, he dreamed. he thought he saw the sky grow black with thunder-clouds, then jagged lightning flashed and flamed, hail fell and wild winds howled. such a storm the earth had never seen, and suddenly in all its fury it burst upon his army. their lances were wrapped in flame, their shields of gold were melted, hauberks and helmets were crushed to pieces. then bears and wolves from out the forests sprang upon the dismayed knights, devouring them. monsters untold, serpents, fiery fiends, and more than thirty thousand griffins, all rushed upon the franks with greedy, gaping jaws. "arm! arm! sire," they cried to him. and charlemagne, in his dream, struggled to reach his knights. but something, he knew not what, held him bound and helpless. then from out the depths of the forest a lion rushed upon him. it was a fierce, terrible, and proud beast. it seized upon the emperor, and together they struggled, he fighting with his naked hands. who would win, who would be beaten, none knew, for the dream passed and the emperor still slept. again charlemagne dreamed. he stood, he thought, upon the marble steps of his great palace of aix holding a bear by a double chain. suddenly out of the forest there came thirty other bears to the foot of the steps where charlemagne stood. they all had tongues and spoke like men. "give him back to us, sire," they said, "he is our kinsman, and we must help him. it is not right that thou shouldest keep him so long from us." then from out the palace there came a hound. bounding among the savage beasts he threw himself upon the largest of them. over and over upon the grass they rolled, fighting terribly. who would be the victor, who the vanquished? charlemagne could not tell. the vision passed, and he slept till daybreak. as the first dim light of dawn crept across the sky, charlemagne awoke. soon all the camp was astir, and before the sun rose high the knights were riding back over the wide roads to roncesvalles. when once again they reached the dreadful field, charlemagne wandered over all the plain until he came where roland lay. then taking him in his arms he made great moan. "my friend, my roland, who shall now lead my army? my nephew, beautiful and brave, my pride, my glory, all are gone. alas the day! alas!" thus with tears and cries he mourned his loss. then said one, "sire, grieve not overmuch. command rather that we search the plain and gather together all our men who have been slain by the heathen. then let us bury them with chant, and song and solemn ceremony, as befits such heroes." "yea," said charlemagne, "it is well said. sound your trumpets!" so the trumpets were sounded, and over all the field the franks searched, gathering their slain brothers and comrades. with the army there were many bishops, abbots and monks, and so with chant and hymn, with prayer and incense, the franks were laid to rest. with great honor they were buried. then, for they could do no more, their comrades left them. only the bodies of roland, oliver and archbishop turpin, they did not lay in spanish ground. in three white marble coffins covered with silken cloths they were placed on chariots, ready to be carried back to the fair land of france. hero of spain the cid adapted by robert southey i rodrigo and the leper rodrigo forthwith set out upon the road, and took with him twenty knights. and as he went he did great good, and gave alms, feeding the poor and needy. and upon the way they found a leper, struggling in a quagmire, who cried out to them with a loud voice to help him for the love of god; and when rodrigo heard this, he alighted from his beast and helped him, and placed him upon the beast before him, and carried him with him in this manner to the inn where he took up his lodging that night. at this were his knights little pleased. when supper was ready he bade his knights take their seats, and he took the leper by the hand, and seated him next himself, and ate with him out of the same dish. the knights were greatly offended at this foul sight, insomuch that they rose up and left the chamber. but rodrigo ordered a bed to be made ready for himself and for the leper, and they twain slept together. when it was midnight and rodrigo was fast asleep, the leper breathed against him between his shoulders, and that breath was so strong that it passed through him, even through his breast; and he awoke, being astounded, and felt for the leper by him, and found him not; and he began to call him, but there was no reply. then he arose in fear, and called for a light, and it was brought him; and he looked for the leper and could see nothing; so he returned into the bed, leaving the light burning. and he began to think within himself what had happened, and of that breath which had passed through him, and how the leper was not there. after a while, as he was thus musing, there appeared before him one in white garments, who said unto him, "sleepest thou or wakest thou, rodrigo?" and he answered and said, "i do not sleep: but who art thou that bringest with thee such brightness and so sweet an odor?" said he, "i am saint lazarus, and know that i was a leper to whom thou didst so much good and so great honor for the love of god; and because thou didst this for his sake hath god now granted thee a great gift; for whensoever that breath which thou hast felt shall come upon thee, whatever thing thou desirest to do, and shalt then begin, that shalt thou accomplish to thy heart's desire, whether it be in battle or aught else, so that thy honor shall go on increasing from day to day; and thou shalt be feared both by moors and christians, and thy enemies shall never prevail against thee, and thou shalt die an honorable death in thine own house, and in thy renown, for god hath blessed thee therefore go thou on, and evermore persevere in doing good;" and with that he disappeared. and rodrigo arose and prayed to our lady and intercessor st. mary, that she would pray to her blessed son for him to watch over his body and soul in all his undertakings; and he continued in prayer till the day broke. then he proceeded on his way, and performed his pilgrimage, doing much good for the love of god and of st. mary. ii the knighting of rodrigo now it came to pass that while the king lay before coimbra, there came a pilgrim from the land of greece on pilgrimage to santiago; his name was estiano, and he was a bishop. and as he was praying in the church he heard certain of the townsmen and of the pilgrims saying that santiago was wont to appear in battle like a knight, in aid of the christians. and when he heard this, it nothing pleased him, and he said unto them, "friends, call him not a knight, but rather a fisherman." upon this it pleased god that he should fall asleep, and in his sleep santiago appeared to him with a good and cheerful countenance, holding in his hand a bunch of keys, and said unto him, "thou thinkest it a fable that they should call me a knight, and sayest that i am not so: for this reason am i come unto thee that thou never more mayest doubt concerning my knighthood; for a knight of jesus christ i am, and a helper of the christians against the moors." then a horse was brought him the which was exceeding white, and the apostle santiago mounted upon it, being well clad in bright and fair armor, after the manner of a knight. and he said to estiano, "i go to help king don ferrando, who has lain these seven months before coimbra, and to-morrow, with these keys which thou seest, will i open the gates of the city unto him at the third hour, and deliver it into his hand." having said this, he departed. and the bishop, when he woke in the morning, called together the clergy and people of compostella, and told them what he had seen and heard. and as he said, even so did it come to pass; for tidings came, that on that day, and at the third hour, the gates of the city had been opened. king don ferrando then assembled his counts and chief captains, and told them all that the monks of lorvam had done, in bringing him to besiege the city, and in supplying his army in their time of need: and the counts and chief captains made answer and said, "certes, o king, if the monks had not given us the stores of their monastery, thou couldest not have taken the city at this time." the king then called for the abbot and the brethren, for they were with him in the host, and said the hours to him daily, and mass in st. andre's, and buried there and in their monastery as many as had died during the siege, either of arrow-wounds or by lances, or of their own infirmities. so they came before him and gave him joy of his conquest; and he said unto them, "take ye now of this city as much as ye desire, since by god's favor and your counsel i have won it." but they made answer, "thanks be to god and to you, and to your forefathers, we have enough and shall have, if so be that we have your favor and dwell among christians. only for the love of god, and for the remedy of your own soul, give us one church with its dwelling-houses within the city, and confirm unto us the gifts made to us in old times by your forefathers." with that the king turned to his sons and his soldiers, and said, "of a truth, by our creator, they who desire so little are men of god. i would have given them half the city, and they will have only a single church! now therefore, since they require but this, on the part of god almighty let us grant and confirm unto them what they ask, to the honor of god and st. mamede." and the brethren brought him their charters of king ramiro, and king bermudo, and king alfonso, and of gonzalo moniz, who was a knight and married a daughter of king bermudo, and of other good men. and the king confirmed them, and he bade them make a writing of all which had passed between him and them at the siege of coimbra; and when they brought him the writing, they brought him also a crown of silver and of gold, which had been king bermudo's, and which gonzalo moniz had given to the monastery in honor of god and st. mamede. the king saw the crown, set with precious stones, and said, "to what end bring ye hither this crown?" and they said, "that you should take it, sire, in return for the good which you have done us." but he answered, "far be it from me that i should take from your monastery what the good men before me have given to it! take ye back the crown, and take also ten marks of silver, and make with the money a good cross, to remain with you forever. and he who shall befriend you, may god befriend him; but he who shall disturb you or your monastery, may he be cursed by the living god and by his saints." so the king signed the writing which he had commanded to be made, and his sons and chief captains signed it also, and in the writing he enjoined his children and his children's children, as many as should come after him, to honor and protect the monastery of lorvam; upon his blessing he charged them so to do, because he had found the brethren better than all the other monks in his dominions. then king don ferrando knighted rodrigo of bivar in the great mosque of coimbra, which he dedicated to st. mary. and the ceremony was after this manner: the king girded on his sword, and gave him the kiss, but not the blow. to do him honor the queen gave him his horse, and the infanta dona urraca fastened on his spurs; and from that day forth he was called ruydiez. then the king commanded him to knight nine noble squires with his own hand; and he took his sword before the altar, and knighted them. the king then gave coimbra to the keeping of don sisnando, bishop of iria; a man who, having more hardihood than religion, had by reason of his misdeeds gone over to the moors, and sorely infested the christians in portugal. but during the siege he had come to the king's service, and bestirred himself well against the moors; and therefore the king took him into his favor, and gave him the city to keep, which he kept, and did much evil to the moors till the day of his death. and the king departed and went to compostella, to return thanks to santiago. but then benalfagi, who was the lord of many lands in estremadura, gathered together a great power of the moors and built up the walls of montemor, and from thence waged war against coimbra, so that they of coimbra called upon the king for help. and the king came up against the town, and fought against it, and took it. great honor did ruydiez win at that siege; for having to protect the foragers, the enemy came out upon him, and thrice in one day was he beset by them; but he, though sorely pressed by them, and in great peril, nevertheless would not send to the camp for succor, but put forth his manhood and defeated them. and from that day che king gave more power into his hands, and made him head over all his household. now the men of leon besought the king that he should repeople zamora, which had lain desolate since it was destroyed by almanzor. and he went thither and peopled the city, and gave to it good privileges. and while he was there came messengers from the five kings who were vassals to ruydiez of bivar, bringing him their tribute; and they came to him, he being with the king, and called him cid, which signifieth lord, and would have kissed his hands, but he would not give them his hand till they had kissed the hand of the king. and ruydiez took the tribute and offered the fifth thereof to the king, in token of his sovereignty; and the king thanked him, but would not receive it; and from that time he ordered that ruydiez should be called the cid, because the moors had so called him. iii how the cid made a coward into a brave man at this time martin pelaez the asturian came with a convoy of laden beasts, carrying provisions to the host of the cid; and as he passed near the town the moors sallied out in great numbers against him; but he, though he had few with him, defended the convoy right well, and did great hurt to the moors, slaying many of them, and drove them into the town. this martin pelaez who is here spoken of, did the cid make a right good knight, of a coward, as ye shall hear. when the cid first began to lay seige to the city of valencia, this martin pelaez came unto him; he was a knight, a native of santillana in asturias, a hidalgo, great of body and strong of limb, a well-made man and of goodly semblance, but withal a right coward at heart, which he had shown in many places when he was among feats of arms. and the cid was sorry when he came unto him, though he would not let him perceive this; for he knew he was not fit to be of his company. howbeit he thought that since he was come, he would make him brave, whether he would or not. when the cid began to war upon the town, and sent parties against it twice and thrice a day, for the cid was alway upon the alert, there was fighting and tourneying every day. one day it fell out that the cid and his kinsmen and friends and vassals were engaged in a great encounter, and this martin pelaez was well armed; and when he saw that the moors and christians were at it, he fled and betook himself to his lodging, and there hid himself till the cid returned to dinner. and the cid saw what martin pelaez did, and when he had conquered the moors he returned to his lodging to dinner. now it was the custom of the cid to eat at a high table, seated on his bench, at the head. and don alvar fañez, and pero bermudez, and other precious knights, ate in another part, at high tables, full honorably, and none other knights whatsoever dared take their seats with them, unless they were such as deserved to be there; and the others who were not so approved in arms ate upon _estrados_, at tables with cushions. this was the order in the house of the cid, and every one knew the place where he was to sit at meat, and every one strove all he could to gain the honor of sitting at the table of don alvar fañez and his companions, by strenuously behaving himself in all feats of arms; and thus the honor of the cid was advanced. martin pelaez, thinking none had seen his badness, washed his hands in turn with the other knights, and would have taken his place among them. and the cid went unto him, and took him by the hand and said, "you are not such a one as deserves to sit with these, for they are worth more than you or than me; but i will have you with me:" and he seated him with himself at table. and he, for lack of understanding, thought that the cid did this to honor him above all the others. on the morrow the cid and his company rode towards valencia, and the moors came out to the tourney; and martin pelaez went out well armed, and was among the foremost who charged the moors, and when he was in among them he turned the reins, and went back to his lodging; and the cid took heed to all that he did, and saw that though he had done badly he had done better than the first day. and when the cid had driven the moors into the town he returned to his lodging, and as he sat down to meat he took this martin pelaez by the hand, and seated him with himself, and bade him eat with him in the same dish, for he had deserved more that day than he had the first. and the knight gave heed to that saying, and was abashed; howbeit he did as the cid commanded him: and after he had dined he went to his lodging and began to think upon what the cid had said unto him, and perceived that he had seen all the baseness which he had done; and then he understood that for this cause he would not let him sit at board with the other knights who were precious in arms, but had seated him with himself, more to affront him than to do him honor, for there were other knights there better than he, and he did not show them that honor. then resolved he in his heart to do better than he had done heretofore. another day it happened that the cid and his company, along with martin pelaez, rode toward valencia, and the moors came out to the tourney full resolutely, and martin pelaez was among the first, and charged them right boldly; and he smote down and slew presently a good knight, and he lost there all the bad fear which he had had, and was that day one of the best knights there: and as long as the tourney lasted there he remained, smiting and slaying and overthrowing the moors, till they were driven within the gates, in such manner that the moors marveled at him, and asked where that devil came from, for they had never seen him before. and the cid was in a place where he could see all that was going on, and he gave good heed to him, and had great pleasure in beholding him, to see how well he had forgotten the great fear which he was wont to have. and when the moors were shut up within the town, the cid and all his people returned to their lodging, and martin pelaez full leisurely and quietly went to his lodging also, like a good knight. and when it was the hour of eating, the cid waited for martin pelaez; and when he came, and they had washed, the cid took him by the hand and said, "my friend, you are not such a one as deserves to sit with me from henceforth; but sit you here with don alvar fañez, and with these other good knights, for the good feats which you have done this day have made you a companion for them;" and from that day forward he was placed in the company of the good. the history saith that from that day forward this knight martin pelaez was a right good one, and a right valiant, and a right precious, in all places where he chanced among feats of arms, and he lived alway with the cid, and served him right well and truly. and the history saith, that after the cid had won the city of valencia, on the day when they conquered and discomfited the king of seville, this martin pelaez was so good a one, that setting aside the body of the cid himself, there was no such good knight there, nor one who bore such part, as well in the battle as in the pursuit. and so great was the mortality which he made among the moors that day, that when he returned from the business the sleeves of his mail were clotted with blood, up to the elbow; insomuch that for what he did that day his name is written in this history, that it may never die. and when the cid saw him come in that guise, he did him great honor, such as he never had done to any knight before that day, and from thenceforward gave him a place in all his actions and in all his secrets, and he was his great friend. in this knight martin pelaez was fulfilled the example which saith, that he who betaketh himself to a good tree, hath good shade, and he who serves a good lord winneth good guerdon; for by reason of the good service which he did the cid, he came to such good state that he was spoken of as ye have heard: for the cid knew how to make a good knight, as a good groom knows how to make a good horse. iv how the cid ruled valencia on the following day after the christians had taken possession of the town, the cid entered it with a great company, and he ascended the highest tower of the wall and beheld all the city; and the moors came unto him, and kissed his hand, saying he was welcome. and the cid did great honor unto them. and then he gave order that all the windows of the towers which looked in upon the town should be closed up, that the christians might not see what the moors did in their houses; and the moors thanked him for this greatly. and he commanded and requested the christians that they should show great honor to the moors, and respect them, and greet them when they met: and the moors thanked the cid greatly for the honor which the christians did them, saying that they had never seen so good a man, nor one so honorable, nor one who had his people under such obedience. now abeniaf thought to have the love of the cid; and calling to mind the wrath with which he had formerly been received, because he had not taken a gift with him, he took now great riches which he had taken from those who sold bread for so great a price during the siege of valencia, and this he carried to the cid as a present. among those who had sold it were some men from the islands of majorca, and he took from them all that they had. this the cid knew, and he would not accept his gifts. and the cid caused proclamation to be made in the town and throughout the whole district thereof, that the honorable men and knights and castellans should assemble together in the garden of villa nueva, where the cid at that time sojourned. and when they were all assembled, he went out unto them, to a place which was made ready with carpets and with mats, and he made them take their seats before him full honorable, and began to speak unto them, saying: "i am a man who have never possessed a kingdom, neither i nor any man of my lineage. but the day when i first beheld this city i was well pleased therewith, and coveted it that i might be its lord; and i besought the lord our god that he would give it me. see now what his power is, for the day when i sat down before juballa i had no more than four loaves of bread, and now by god's mercy i have won valencia. "if i administer right and justice here, god will let me enjoy it; if i do evil, and demean myself proudly and wrongfully, i know that he will take it away. now then, let every one go to his own lands, and possess them even as he was wont to have and to hold them. he who shall find his field, or his vineyard, or his garden, desert, let him incontinently enter thereon; and he who shall find his husbanded, let him pay him that hath cultivated it the cost of his labor, and of the seed which he hath sown therein, and remain with his heritage, according to the law of the moors. moreover, i have given order that they who collect my dues take from you no more than the tenth, because so it is appointed by the custom of the moors, and it is what ye have been wont to pay. and i have resolved in my heart to hear your complaints two days in the week, on the monday and the thursday; but if causes should arise which require haste, come to me when ye will and i will give judgment, for i do not retire with women to sing and to drink, as your lords have done, so that ye could obtain no justice, but will myself see to these things, and watch over ye as friend over his friend, and kinsman over his kinsman. and i will be cadi and guazil, and when dispute happens among ye i will decide it." when he had said these things, they all replied that they prayed god to preserve him through long and happy years; and four of the most honorable among them arose and kissed his hands, and the cid bade them take their seats again. then the cid spake unto them and said: "it is told me that abeniaf hath done much evil, and committed great wrong toward some of ye, in that he hath taken great riches from ye to present them to me, saying, that this he did because ye sold food for a great price during the siege. but i will accept no such gift; for if i were minded to have your riches, i could take them, and need not ask them neither from him, nor from any other; but thing so unseemly as to take that which is his from any one, without just cause, i will not do. they who have gotten wealth thus, god hath given it them; let them go to abeniaf, and take back what he hath forced from them, for i will order him to restore the whole." then he said, "ye see the riches which i took from the messengers who went to murcia; it is mine by right, for i took it in war because they brake the covenant which they had made, and would have deceived me: nevertheless i will restore it to the uttermost centesimo, that nothing thereof shall be lost. and ye shall do homage to me that ye will not withdraw yourselves, but will abide here, and do my bidding in all things, and never depart from the covenant which ye make with me; for i love ye, and am grieved to think of the great evil and misery which ye endured from the great famine, and of the mortality which there was. and if ye had done that before which ye have done now, ye would not have been brought to these sufferings and have bought the _cafiz_ of wheat at a thousand _maravedis_; but i trust in god to bring it to one _maravedi_. be ye now secure in your lands, and till your fields, and rear cattle; for i have given order to my men that they offer ye no wrong, neither enter into the town to buy nor to sell; but that they carry on all their dealings in alcudia, and this i do that ye may receive no displeasure. moreover i command them not to take any captive into the town, but if this should be done, lay ye hands on the captive and set him free, without fear, and if any one should resist, kill him and fear not. i myself will not enter your city nor dwell therein, but i will build me a place beside the bridge of alcantara, where i may go and disport myself at times, and repair when it is needful." when he had said these things he bade them go their way. well pleased were the moors when they departed from him, and they marveled at the greatness of his promises, and they set their hearts at rest, and put away the fear which they had had, thinking all their troubles were over; for in all the promises which the cid had made unto them, they believed that he spake truth; but he said these things only to quiet them, and to make them come to what he wished, even as came to pass. and when he had done, he sent his almoxarife, abdalla adiz, to the custom-house, and made him appoint men to collect the rents of the town for him, which was done accordingly. and when the cid had given order concerning his own affairs at his pleasure, the moors would fain have entered again into possession of their heritages as he told them; but they found it all otherwise, for of all the fields which the christians had husbanded, they would not yield up one; albeit they let them enter upon such as were left waste: some said that the cid had given them the lands that year, instead of their pay, and other some that they rented them and had paid rent for the year. the moors waited till thursday, when the cid was to hear complaints, as he had said unto them. when thursday came all the honorable men went to the garden, but the cid sent to say unto them that he could not come out that day, because of other causes which he had to determine; and he desired that they would go their way for that time, and come again on the monday: this was to show his mastery. and when it was monday they assembled again in the garden, and the cid came out to them, and took his seat upon the _estrado_, and the moors made their complaint. and when he had heard them he began to make similitudes, and offer reasons which were not like those which he had spoken the first day; for he said to them, "i ask of ye, whether it is well that i should be left without men? or if i were without them, i should be like unto one who hath lost his right arm, or to a bird that hath no wings, or to one who should do battle and hath neither spear nor sword. the first thing which i have to look to is to the well-being of my people, that they may live in wealth and honor, so that they may be able to serve me, and defend my honor: for since it has pleased god to give me the city of valencia, i will not that there be any other lord here than me. therefore i say unto you and command you, if you would be well with me, and would that i should show favor unto you, that ye see how to deliver that traitor abeniaf into my hands. ye all know the great treason which he committed upon king yahia, his lord and yours, how he slew him, and the misery which he brought upon you in the siege; and since it is not fitting that a traitor who hath slain his lord should live among you, and that his treason should be confounded with your loyalty, see to the obeyment of my command." when the honorable moors heard this, they were dismayed; verily they knew that he spake truth touching the death of the king, but it troubled them that he departed form the promise which he had made; and they made answer that they would take counsel concerning what he had said, and then reply. then five of the best and most honorable among them withdrew, and went to abdalla adiz, and said unto him, "give us thy counsel now the best and truest that thou canst, for thou art of our law, and oughtest to do this: and the reason why we ask counsel of thee is this. the cid promised us many things, and now behold he says nothing to us of what he said before, but moveth other new reasons, at which great dismay hath seized us. and because thou better knowest his ways, tell us now what is his pleasure, for albeit we might wish to do otherwise, this is not a time wherein anything but what he shall command can be done." when the almoxarife heard this he made answer, "good men, it is easy to understand what he would have, and to do what should be done. we all know the great treason which abeniaf committed against ye all in killing your lord the king; for albeit at that time ye felt the burden of the christians, yet was it nothing so great as after he had killed him, neither did ye suffer such misery. and since god hath brought him who was the cause to this state, see now by all means how ye may deliver him into the hands of the cid; and fear not, neither take thought for the rest; for though the cid may do his pleasure in some things, better is it to have him for lord than this traitor who hath brought so much evil upon ye. moreover the things of this world soon pass away, and my heart tells me that we shall ere long come out of the bondage of the cid, and of the christians; for the cid is well-nigh at the full of his days, and we who remain alive after his death shall then be masters of our city." the good men thanked him much, and held themselves to be well advised, and said that they would do willingly what he bade them; and they returned forthwith to the cid, and said unto him that they would fulfill his commandment. incontinently did the good men dispeed themselves of the cid, and they went into the city, and gathered together a great posse of armed men, and went to the place where abeniaf dwelt; and they assaulted the house and brake the doors, and entered in and laid hands on him, and his son, and all his company, and carried them before the cid. and the cid ordered abeniaf to be cast into prison, and all those who had taken counsel with him for the death of king yahia. when this was done, the cid said unto the good men, "now that ye have fulfilled my bidding, i hold it good to show favor unto you in that which ye yourselves shall understand to be fitting for me to grant. say therefore what ye would have, and i will do that which i think behooveth me: but in this manner, that my dwelling-place be within the city of valencia, in the alcazar, and that my christian men have all the fortresses in the city." and when the good men heard this, they were greatly troubled; howbeit they dissembled the sorrow which they resented, and said unto him, "sir cid, order it as you think good, and we consent thereto." then said he unto them that he would observe towards them all the uses and customs of their law, and that he would have the power, and be lord of all; and they should till their fields and feed their flocks and herds, and give him his tenth, and he would take no more. when the moors heard this they were pleased; and since they were to remain in the town, and in their houses and their inheritances, and with their uses and customs, and that their mosques were to be left them, they held themselves not to be badly off. then they asked the cid to let their guazil be the same as he had first appointed, and that he would give them for their cadi the alfaqui alhagi, and let him appoint whom he would to assist him in distributing justice to the moors; and thus he himself would be relieved of the wearisomeness of hearing them, save only when any great occasion might befall. and the cid granted this which they required, and they kissed his hand, and returned into the town. nine months did the cid hold valencia besieged, and at the end of that time it fell into his power, and he obtained possession of the walls, as ye have heard. and one month he was practising with the moors that he might keep them quiet, till abeniaf was delivered into his hands; and thus ten months were fulfilled, and they were fulfilled on thursday, the last day of june, in the year of the era one thousand one hundred and thirty and one, which was in the year one thousand ninety and three of the incarnation of our lord jesus christ. and when the cid had finished all his dealings with the moors, on this day he took horse with all his company in good array, his banner being carried before him, and his arms behind; and in this guise, with great rejoicings he entered the city of valencia. and he alighted at the alcazar, and gave order to lodge all his men round about it; and he bade them plant his banner upon the highest tower of the alcazar. glad was the campeador, and all they who were with him, when they saw his banner planted in that place. and from that day forth was the cid possessed of all the castles and fortresses which were in the kingdom of valencia, and established in what god had given him, and he and all his people rejoiced. v the cid's last victory three days after the cid had died king bucar came into the port of valencia, and landed with all his power, which was so great that there is not a man in the world who could give account of the moors whom he brought. and there came with him thirty and six kings, and one moorish queen, who was a negress, and she brought with her two hundred horsewomen, all negresses like herself, all having their hair shorn save a tuft on the top, and this was in token that they came as if upon a pilgrimage, and to obtain the remission of their sins; and they were all armed in coats of mail and with turkish bows. king bucar ordered his tents to be pitched round about valencia, and abenalfarax, who wrote this history in arabic, saith that there were full fifteen thousand tents; and he bade that moorish negress with her archers to take their station near the city. and on the morrow they began to attack the city, and they fought against it three days strenuously; and the moors received great loss, for they came blindly up to the walls and were slain there. and the christians defended themselves right well; and every time that they went upon the walls, they sounded trumpets and tambours, and made great rejoicings, as the cid had commanded. this continued for eight days or nine, till the companions of the cid had made ready everything for their departure, as he had commanded. and king bucar and his people thought that the cid dared not come out against them; and they were the more encouraged, and began to think of making bastiles and engines wherewith to combat the city, for certes they weened that the cid ruydiez dared not come out against them, seeing that he tarried so long. all this while the company of the cid were preparing all things to go into castile, as he had commanded before his death; and his trusty gil diaz did nothing else but labor at this. and the body of the cid was thus prepared: first it was embalmed and anointed, and the virtue of the balsam and myrrh was such that the flesh remained firm and fair, having its natural color, and his countenance as it was wont to be, and the eyes open, and his long beard in order, so that there was not a man who would have thought him dead if he had seen him and not known it. and on the second day after he had departed, gil diaz placed the body upon a right noble saddle, and this saddle with the body upon it he put upon a frame; and he dressed the body in a _gambax_ of fine sendal, next the skin. and he took two boards and fitted them to the body, one to the breast and the other to the shoulders; these were so hollowed out and fitted that they met at the sides and under the arms, and the hind one came up to the pole, and the other up to the beard. these boards were fastened into the saddle, so that the body could not move. all this was done by the morning of the twelfth day; and all that day the people of the cid were busied in making ready their arms, and in loading beasts with all that they had, so that they left nothing of any price in the whole city of valencia, save only the empty houses. when it was midnight they took the body of the cid, fastened to the saddle as it was, and placed it upon his horse bavieca, and fastened the saddle well; and the body sat so upright and well that it seemed as if he was alive. and it had on painted hose of black and white, so cunningly painted that no man who saw them would have thought but that they were greaves and cuishes, unless he had laid his hand upon them; and they put on it a surcoat of green sendal, having his arms blazoned thereon, and a helmet of parchment, which was cunningly painted that every one might have believed it to be iron; and his shield was hung round his neck, and they placed the sword tizona in his hand, and they raised his arm, and fastened it up so subtilely that it was a marvel to see how upright he held the sword. and the bishop don hieronymo went on one side of him, and the trusty gil diaz on the other, and he led the horse bavieca, as the cid had commanded him. and when all this had been made ready, they went out from valencia at midnight, through the gate of roseros, which is towards castile. pero bermudez went first with the banner of the cid, and with him five hundred knights who guarded it, all well appointed. and after these came all the baggage. then came the body of the cid, with an hundred knights, all chosen men, and behind them dona ximena with all her company, and six hundred knights in the rear. all these went out so silently, and with such a measured pace, that it seemed as if there were only a score. and by the time that they had all gone out it was broad day. now alvar fañez minaya had set the host in order, and while the bishop don hieronymo and gil diaz led away the body of the cid, and dona ximena, and the baggage, he fell upon the moors. first he attacked the tents of that moorish queen the negress, who lay nearest to the city; and this onset was so sudden, that they killed full a hundred and fifty moors before they had time to take arms or go to horse. but that moorish negress was so skilful in drawing the turkish bow, that it was held for a marvel; and it is said that they called her in arabic _nugueymat turya_, which is to say, the star of the archers. and she was the first that got on horseback, and with some fifty that were with her, did some hurt to the company of the cid; but in fine they slew her, and her people fled to the camp. and so great was the uproar and confusion, that few there were who took arms, but instead thereof they turned their backs and fled toward the sea. and when king bucar and his kings saw this, they were astonished. and it seemed to them that there came against them on the part of the christians full seventy thousand knights, all as white as snow: and before them a knight of great stature upon a white horse with a bloody cross, who bore in one hand a white banner, and in the other a sword which seemed to be of fire, and he made a great mortality among the moors who were flying. and king bucar and the other kings were so greatly dismayed that they never checked the reins till they had ridden into the sea; and the company of the cid rode after them, smiting and slaying and giving them no respite; and they smote down so many that it was marvelous, for the moors did not turn their heads to defend themselves. and when they came to the sea, so great was the press among them to get to the ships, that more than ten thousand died in the water. and of the six and thirty kings, twenty and two were slain. and king bucar and they who escaped with him hoisted sails and went their way, and never more turned their heads. alvar fañez and his people, when they had discomfited the moors, spoiled the field, and the spoil thereof was so great that they could not carry it away. and they loaded camels and horses with the noblest things which they found, and went after the bishop don hieronymo and gil diaz, who, with the body of the cid, and doña ximena, and the baggage, had gone on till they were clear of the host, and then waited for those who were gone against the moors. and so great was the spoil of that day, that there was no end to it: and they took up gold, and silver, and other precious things as they rode through the camp, so that the poorest man among the christians, horseman or on foot, became rich with what he won that day. hero of switzerland william tell adapted by h.e. marshall i gessler's tyranny far away in the heart of europe there lies a little country called switzerland. it seems wonderful that when great and powerful kings and princes swept over the world, fighting and conquering, little switzerland should not have been conquered and swallowed up by one or other of the great countries which lay around. but the swiss have always been a brave and fearless people. at one time one of the great princes of europe tried to conquer switzerland and take away the freedom of its people. but the people fought so bravely that instead of being conquered they conquered the tyrants and drove them away. in those far-off times the greatest ruler in europe was the emperor, and his empire was divided into many states, over each of which ruled a prince or king who acknowledged the emperor as overlord. when an emperor died the kings and princes met together and chose another emperor from among their number. switzerland was one of the countries which owned the emperor as overlord. but the swiss were a free people. they had no king or prince over them, but a governor only, who was appointed by the emperor. austria was another of the states of the great empire, and at one time a duke of austria was made ruler of switzerland. because of its great beauty, this duke cast greedy eyes upon switzerland and longed to possess it for his very own. but the swiss would not give up their freedom; and three cantons, as the divisions of switzerland are called, joined together, and swore to stand by each other, and never to submit to austria. uri, schwyz, and unterwalden were the names of these three cantons. a little later another canton joined the three. these four cantons lie round a lake which is called the lake of the four forest cantons. when albrecht, duke of austria was chosen emperor he said to himself that now truly he would be lord and master of switzerland. so he sent two nobles to the swiss to talk to them, and persuade them to own him as their king. some of the people of switzerland were persuaded to belong to austria, but all the people of the free cantons replied that they wished to remain free. so the messengers went back to albrecht and told him what the people said. when he heard the message he was very angry. "the proud peasants," he cried, "they will not yield. then i will bend and break them. they will be soft and yielding enough when i have done with them." months went by and the emperor appointed no ruler over switzerland. at last the people, feeling that they must have a governor, sent messengers to the emperor, begging him to appoint a ruler, as all the emperors before him had done. "a governor you shall have." said albrecht. "go home and await his coming. whom i send to you, him you must obey in all things." when they had gone, albrecht smiled grimly to himself. "they will not yield," he said, "but i will oppress them and ill-treat them until i force them to rebel. then i will fight against them and conquer them, and at last switzerland will be mine." a few days later albrecht made his friends hermann gessler and beringer of landenberg governors over the free cantons, telling them to take soldiers with them to enforce the law and to tax the people in order to pay the soldiers. "you will punish all wrong-doers severely," he said, "i will endure no rebels within my empire." hard and bitter days began when gessler and landenberg settled there. they delighted in oppressing the people. they loaded them with taxes; nothing could be either bought or sold but the governors claimed a great part of the money; the slightest fault was punished with long imprisonment and heavy fines. the people became sad and downcast, but still they would not yield to austria. gessler lived in a great castle at küssnacht in schwyz. in it were dreadful dungeons where he imprisoned the people and tortured them according to his wicked will. but he was not pleased to have only one castle, and he made up his mind to build another in uri. so he began to build one near the little town of altorf, which lay at the other end of the lake of the forest cantons. gessler forced the men of uri to build this castle, and he meant to use it not only as a house for himself, but as a prison for the people. "what will you call your castle?" asked a friend one day, as they stood to watch the building. "i will call it the curb of uri," said gessler, with a cruel laugh, "for with it i will curb the proud spirit of these peasants." after watching the work for some time, gessler and his friend rode away. "my friend," said gessler, as he rode, "we will go back to kiissnacht by another way. i have heard that an insolent peasant called werner stauffacher has built himself a new house. i wish to see it. there is no end to the impudence of these peasants." "but what will you do?" asked his friend. "do" said gessler, "why, turn him out, to be sure. what need have these peasants for great houses?" so they rode on to stauffacher's house. "whose house is this?" he demanded. stauffacher answered quietly, "my lord, this house belongs to the emperor, and is yours and mine in fief to hold and use for his service." "i rule this land," said gessler, "in the name of the emperor, and i will not allow peasants to build houses without asking leave. i will have you understand that." and he rode from the doorway. stauffacher told his wife what had happened and she advised him to call a secret meeting of his friends to plan to free themselves from the governor's rule. werner stauffacher spent some days in going from village to village, trying to find out how the peasants and common people felt, and everywhere heard complaints and groans. coming to altorf, where his friend walter fürst lived, he heard in the market-place a great noise of shouting and trampling of feet. down the street a party of austrian soldiers came marching. one of them carried a long pole, and another a red cap with a peacock's feather in it. then the pole with the red cap on the top of it was firmly planted in the ground. as soon as the pole was set up a herald stepped out, blew his trumpet and cried, "se ye this cap here set up? it is his majesty's will and commandment that ye do all bow the knee and bend the head as ye do pass it by." this was a new insult to a free people. stauffacher went to the house of walter fürst, where he met arnold of melchthal, who had suffered much from landenberg. calling upon god and his saints, these three men swore a solemn oath to protect each other and promised to meet in a little meadow called the rütli, the wednesday before martinmas. three weeks passed, and in the darkness and quiet the men stole to the place of meeting with other friends of freedom whom they had brought. near walter fürst stood a young man straight and tall with clear and honest eyes. "william tell," said arnold, "and the best shot in all switzerland. i have seen him shoot an apple from a tree a hundred paces off." then they swore never to betray each other, to be true to the emperor, but to drive the austrian governor, his friends, his servants, and his soldiers out of the land. ii william tell and his great shot william tell did not live in altorf, but in another village some way off, called bürglen. his wife, who was called hedwig, was walter fürst's daughter. tell and hedwig had two sons, william and walter. walter, the younger, was about six years old. william tell loved his wife and his children very much, and they all lived happily together in a pretty little cottage at bürglen. "hedwig," said tell one morning, some days after the meeting mentioned above, "i am going into altorf to see your father." hedwig looked troubled. "do be careful, william," she said. "must you really go? you know the governor is there just now, and he hates you." "oh, i am quite safe," said tell; "i have done nothing for which he could punish me. but i will keep out of his way," and he lifted his crossbow and prepared to go. "do not take your bow," said hedwig, still feeling uneasy. "leave it here." "why, hedwig, how you trouble yourself for nothing," said tell, smiling at her. "why should i leave my bow behind? i feel lost without it." "o father, where are you going?" said walter, running into the room at this minute. "i am going to altorf to see grandfather. would you like to come?" "oh, may i? may i, mother?" "yes, dear, if you like," said hedwig. "and you will be careful, won't you?" she added, turning to tell. "yes, i will," he replied, and walter, throwing his arms round her neck, said, "it's all right, mother, i will take care of father." then they set off merrily together. it was a great thing to go to altorf with father, and walter was so happy that he chattered all the way, asking questions about everything. "how far can you shoot, father?" "oh, a good long way." "as high as the sun?" asked walter, looking up at it. "oh dear, no, not nearly so high as that." "well, how high? as high as the snow-mountains?" "oh no." "why is there always snow on the mountains, father?" asked walter, thinking of something else. and so he went on, asking questions about one thing after another, until his father was quite tired of answering. walter was chattering so much that tell forgot all about the hat upon the pole, and, instead of going round by another way to avoid it, as he had meant to do, he went straight through the market-place to reach walter fürst's house. "father, look," said walter, "look, how funny! there is a hat stuck up on a pole. what is it for?" "don't look, walter," said tell, "the hat has nothing to do with us, don't look at it." and taking walter by the hand, he led him hurriedly away. but it was too late. the soldier, who stood beside the pole to guard it and see that people bowed in passing, pointed his spear at tell and bade him stop. "stand, in the emperor's name," he cried. "let be, friend," said tell, "let me past." "not till you obey the emperor's command. not till you bow to the hat." "it is no command of the emperor," said tell. "it is gessler's folly and tyranny. let me go." "nay, but you must not speak of my lord the governor in such terms. and past you shall not go until you bow to the cap. and, if you bow not, to prison i will lead you. such is my lord's command." "why should i bow to a cap?" said tell, his voice shaking with rage. "were the emperor himself here, then would i bend the knee and bow my head to him with all reverence. but to a hat! never!" and he tried to force his way past heinz the soldier. but heinz would not let him pass, and kept his spear pointed at tell. hearing loud and angry voices, many people gathered to see what the cause might be. soon there was quite a crowd around the two. every one talked at once, and the noise and confusion were great. heinz tried to take tell prisoner, and the people tried to take him away. "help! help!" shouted heinz, hoping that some of his fellow-soldiers would hear him and come to his aid,--"help, help! treason, treason!" then over all the noise of the shouting there sounded the tramp of horses' hoofs and the clang and jangle of swords and armor. "room for the governor. room, i say," cried a herald. the shouting ceased and the crowd silently parted, as gessler, richly dressed, haughty and gloomy, rode through it, followed by a gay company of his friends and soldiers. he checked his horse and, gazing angrily round the crowd, "what is this rioting?" he asked. "my lord," said heinz, stepping forward, "this scoundrel here will not bow to the cap, according to your lordship's command." "eh, what?" said gessler, his dark face growing more dark and angry still. "who dares to disobey my orders?" "'tis william tell of bürglen, my lord." "tell?" said gessler, turning in his saddle and looking at tell as he stood among the people, holding little walter by the hand. there was silence for a few minutes while gessler gazed at tell in anger. "i hear you are a great shot, tell," said gessler at last, laughing scornfully, "they say you never miss." "that is quite true," said little walter eagerly, for he was very proud of his father's shooting. "he can hit an apple on a tree a hundred yards off." "is that your boy?" said gessler, looking at him with an ugly smile. "yes, my lord." "have you other children?" "another boy, my lord." "you are very fond of your children, tell?" "yes, my lord." "which of them do you love best?" tell hesitated. he looked down at little walter with his rosy cheeks and curly hair. then he thought of william at home with his pretty loving ways. "i love them both alike, my lord," he said at last. "ah," said gessler, and thought a minute. "well, tell," he said after a pause. "i have heard so much of this boast of yours about hitting apples, that i should like to see something of it. you shall shoot an apple off your boy's head at a hundred yards' distance. that will be easier than shooting off a tree." "my lord," said tell, turning pale, "you do not mean that? it is horrible. i will do anything rather than that." "you will shoot an apple off your boy's head," repeated gessler in a slow and scornful voice. "i want to see your wonderful skill, and i command you to do it at once. you have your crossbow there. do it." "i will die first," said tell. "very well," said gessler, "but you need not think in that way to save your boy. he shall die with you. shoot, or die both of you. and, mark you, tell, see that you aim well, for if you miss you will pay for it with your life." tell turned pale. his voice trembled as he replied, "my lord, it was but thoughtlessness. forgive me this once, and i will always bow to the cap in future." proud and brave although he was, tell could not bear the thought that he might kill his own child. "have done with this delay," said gessler, growing yet more angry. "you break the laws, and when, instead of punishing you as you deserve, i give you a chance of escape, you grumble and think yourself hardly used. were peasants ever more unruly and discontented? have done, i say. heinz, bring me an apple." the soldier hurried away. "bind the boy to that tree," said gessler, pointing to a tall lime-tree near by. two soldiers seized walter and bound him fast to the tree. he was not in the least afraid, but stood up against the trunk straight and quiet. then, when the apple was brought, gessler rode up to him and, bending from the saddle, himself placed the apple upon his head. all this time the people crowded round silent and wondering, and tell stood among them as if in a dream, watching everything with a look of horror in his eyes. "clear a path there," shouted gessler, and the soldiers charged among the people, scattering them right and left. when a path had been cleared, two soldiers, starting from the tree to which walter was bound, marched over the ground, measuring one hundred paces, and halted. "one hundred paces, my lord," they said, turning to gessler. gessler rode to the spot, calling out, "come, tell, from here you shall shoot." tell took his place. he drew an arrow from his quiver, examined it carefully, and then, instead of fitting it to his bow, he stuck it in his belt. then, still carefully, he chose another arrow and fitted it to his bow. a deep silence fell upon every one as tell took one step forward. he raised his bow. a mist was before his eyes, his arm trembled, his bow dropped from his hand. he could not shoot. the fear that he might kill his boy took away all his skill and courage. a groan broke from the people as they watched. then from far away under the lime-tree came walter's voice, "shoot, father, i am not afraid. you cannot miss." once more tell raised his bow. the silence seemed deeper than ever. the people of altorf knew and loved tell, and fürst, and little walter. and so they watched and waited with heavy hearts and anxious faces. "ping!" went the bowstring. the arrow seemed to sing through the frosty air, and, a second later, the silence was broken by cheer after cheer. the apple lay upon the ground pierced right through the center. one man sprang forward and cut the rope with which walter was bound to the tree; another picked up the apple and ran with it to gessler. but tell stood still, his bow clutched in his hand, his body bent forward, his eyes wild and staring, as if he were trying to follow the flight of the arrow. yet he saw nothing, heard nothing. "he has really done it!" exclaimed gessler in astonishment, as he turned the apple round and round in his hand. "who would have thought it? right in the center, too." little walter, quite delighted, came running to his father. "father," he cried, "i knew you could do it. i knew you could, and i was not a bit afraid. was it not splendid?" and he laughed and pressed his curly head against his father. then suddenly tell seemed to wake out of his dream, and taking walter in his arms he held him close, kissing him again and again. "you are safe, my boy. you are safe," was all he said. but strong man though he was his eyes were full of tears, and he was saying to himself, "i might have killed him. i might have killed my own boy." meanwhile gessler sat upon his horse watching them with a cruel smile upon his wicked face. "tell," he said at last, "that was a fine shot, but for what was the other arrow?" tell put walter down and, holding his hand, turned to gessler, "it is always an archer's custom, my lord, to have a second arrow ready," he said. "nay, nay," said gessler, "that answer will not do, tell. speak the truth." tell was silent. "speak, man," said gessler, "and if you speak the truth, whatever it may be, i promise you your life." "then," said tell, throwing his shoulders back and looking straight at gessler, "since you promise me my life, hear the truth, if that first arrow had struck my child, the second one was meant for you, and be sure i had not missed my mark a second time." gessler's face grew dark with rage. for a moment or two he could not speak. when at last he did speak, his voice was low and terrible, "you dare," he said, "you dare to tell me this! i promised you your life indeed. your life you shall have, but you shall pass it in a dark and lonely prison, where neither sun nor moon shall send the least glimmer of light. there you shall lie, so that i may be safe from you. ah, my fine archer, your bows and arrows will be of little use to you henceforth. seize him, men, and bind him, lest he do murder even now." in a moment the soldiers sprang forward, and tell was seized and bound. as gessler sat watching them, he looked round at all the angry faces of the crowd. "tell has too many friends here," he said to himself. "if i imprison him in the curb of uri, they may find some way to help him to escape. i will take him with me in my boat to klissnacht. there he can have no friends. there he will be quite safe." then aloud he said, "follow me, my men. bring him to the boat." as he said these words, there was a loud murmur from the crowd. "that is against the law," cried many voices. "law, law?" growled gessler. "who makes the law, you or i?" walter fürst had been standing among the crowd silent and anxious. now he stepped forward and spoke boldly. "my lord," he said, "it has ever been a law among the swiss that no one shall be imprisoned out of his own canton. if my son-in-law, william tell, has done wrong, let him be tried and imprisoned here, in uri, in altorf. if you do otherwise you wrong our ancient freedom and rights." "your freedom! your rights!" said gessler roughly. "i tell you, you are here to obey the laws, not to teach me how i shall rule." then turning his horse and calling out, "on, men, to the boat with him," he rode towards the lake, where, at a little place called fliielen, his boat was waiting for him. but walter clung to his father, crying bitterly. tell could not take him in his arms to comfort him, for his hands were tied. but he bent over him to kiss him, saying, "little walter, little walter, be brave. go with thy grandfather and comfort thy mother." so tell was led to gessler's boat, followed by the sorrowing people. their hearts were full of hot anger against the tyrant. yet what could they do? he was too strong for them. tell was roughly pushed into the boat, where he sat closely guarded on either side by soldiers. his bow and arrows, which had been taken from him, were thrown upon a bench beside the steersman. gessler took his seat. the boat started, and was soon out on the blue water of the lake. as the people of altorf watched tell go, their hearts sank. they had not known, until they saw him bound and a prisoner, how much they had trusted and loved him. iii the escape of william tell on the lakes of switzerland storms of wind arise very quickly. the swiss used to dread these storms so much that they gave names to the winds as if they were people. the south wind, which is the fiercest, they called the föhn. there used to be a law that when the föhn arose, all fires were to be put out. for the wind whistled and blew down the wide chimneys like great bellows, till the fires flared up so fiercely that the houses, which were built of wood, were in danger of being burned to the ground. now one of these fierce storms arose. no one noticed when gessler's boat pushed off from the shore how dark the sky had grown nor how keenly the wind was blowing. but before the boat had gone very far the waves began to rise, and the wind to blow fiercer and fiercer. soon the little boat was tossing wildly on great white-crested waves. the rowers bent to the oars and rowed with all their might. but in spite of all they could do, the waves broke over the boat, filling it with water. they were tossed here and there, until it seemed every minute that they would sink. pale with fear, the captain stood at the helm. he was an austrian who knew nothing of the swiss lakes, and he had never before been in such a storm. he was helpless, and he knew that very soon the boat would be a wreck. wrapped in his mantle, gessler sat silent and still, watching the storm. he, too, knew the danger. as the waves dashed over him, one of gessler's servants staggered to his master's feet. "my lord," he said, "you see our need and danger, yet methinks there is one man on board who could save us." "who is that?" asked gessler. "william tell, your prisoner," replied the man. "he is known to be one of the best sailors on this lake. he knows every inch of it. if any one can save the boat, he can." "bring him here," said gessler. "it seems you are a sailor as well as an archer, tell," said gessler, when his prisoner had been brought before him. "can you save the boat and bring us to land?" "yes," said tell. "unbind him, then," said gessler to the soldier, "but mark you, tell, you go not free. even although you save us, you are still my prisoner. do not think to have any reward." the rope which bound tell's hands was cut, and he took his place at the helm. the waves still dashed high, the wind still howled, but under tell's firm hand the boat seemed to steady itself, and the rowers bent to their work with new courage and strength in answer to his commanding voice. tell, leaning forward, peered through the darkness and the spray. there was one place where he knew it would be possible to land--where a bold and desperate man at least might land. he was looking for that place. nearer and nearer to the shore he steered. at last he was quite close to it. he glanced quickly round. his bow and arrows lay beside him. he bent and seized them. then with one great leap he sprang ashore, and as he leaped he gave the boat a backward push with his foot, sending it out again into the stormy waters of the lake. there was a wild outcry from the sailors, but tell was free, for no one dared to follow him. quickly clambering up the mountain-side, he disappeared among the trees. as tell vanished, gessler stood up and shouted in anger, but the little boat, rocking and tossing on the waves, drifted out into the lake, and the austrian sailors, to whom the shore was unknown, dared not row near to it again, lest they should be dashed to pieces upon the rocks. even as it was, they expected every moment that the boat would sink, and that all would be drowned. but despair seemed to give the sailors fresh strength, and soon the wind fell and the waves became quieter. a few hours later, wet, weary, but safe, gessler and his company landed on the shore of schwyz. [illustration: william tell and his friends.] iv tell's second shot as soon as gessler landed, he called for his horse, and silent and gloomy, his heart full of bitter hate against tell and all the swiss, he mounted and rode towards his castle at küssnacht. but tell's heart, too, was full of hate and anger. that morning he had been a gentle, peace-loving man. now all was changed. gessler's cruel jest had made him hard and angry. he could not forget that he might have killed his own boy. he seemed to see always before him walter bound to the tree with the apple on his head. tell made up his mind that gessler should never make any one else suffer so much. there was only one thing to do. that was to kill gessler, and that tell meant to do. if gessler escaped from the storm, tell was sure that he would go straight to his castle at küssnacht. there was only one road which led from the lake to the castle, and at a place called the hollow way it became very narrow, and the banks rose steep and rugged on either side. there tell made up his mind to wait for gessler. there he meant to free his country from the cruel tyrant. without stopping for food or rest, tell hurried through the woods until he came to the hollow way. there he waited and watched. many people passed along the road. there were herds with their flocks, and travelers of all kinds, among them a poor woman whose husband had been put in prison by gessler, so that now she had no home, and had to wander about with her children begging. she stopped and spoke to tell, and the story she told of gessler's cruelty made tell's heart burn with anger, and made him more sure than ever that the deed he meant to do was just and right. the day went on, and still gessler did not come, and still tell waited. at last he heard the distant tramp of feet and the sound of voices. surely he had come at last. but as the sounds came nearer, tell knew that it could not be gessler, for he heard music and laughter, and through the hollow way came a gaily dressed crowd. it was a wedding-party. laughing and merry, the bride and bridegroom with their friends passed along. when they were out of sight the wind brought back the sound of their merry voices to tell, as he waited upon the bank. they, at least, had for a time forgotten gessler. at last, as the sun was setting, tell heard the tramp of horses, and a herald dashed along the road, shouting, "room for the governor. room, i say." as gessler came slowly on behind, tell could hear him talking in a loud and angry voice to a friend. "obedience i will have," he was saying. "i have been far too mild a ruler over this people. they grow too proud. but i will break their pride. let them prate of freedom, indeed. i will crush--" the sentence was never finished. an arrow whizzed through the air, and with a groan gessler fell, dead. tell's second arrow had found its mark. immediately everything was in confusion. gessler's soldiers crowded round, trying to do something for their master. but it was useless. he was dead. tell's aim had been true. "who has done this foul murder?" cried one of gessler's friends, looking round. "the shot was mine," answered tell, from where he stood on the high bank. "but no murder have i done. i have but freed an unoffending people from a base and cowardly tyrant. my cause is just, let god be the judge." at the sound of his voice every one turned to look at tell, as he stood above them calm and unafraid. "seize him!" cried the man who had already spoken, as soon as he recovered from his astonishment. "seize him, it is tell the archer." five or six men scrambled up the steep bank as fast as they could. but tell slipped quietly through the bushes, and when they reached the top he was nowhere to be found. the short winter's day was closing in fast, and tell found it easy to escape in the darkness from gessler's soldiers. they soon gave up the chase, and, returning to the road, took up their master's dead body and carried it to his castle at küssnacht there was little sorrow for him, for he had been a hard master. the austrian soldiers did not grieve, and the swiss, wherever they heard the news, rejoiced. as soon as he was free of the soldiers, tell turned and made for stauffacher's house. all through the night he walked, until he came to the pretty house with its red roofs and many windows which had made gessler so angry. now there was no light in any of the windows, and all was still and quiet. but tell knew in which of the rooms stauffacher slept, and he knocked softly upon the window until he had aroused his friend. "william tell!" said stauffacher in astonishment. "i heard from walter fürst that you were a prisoner. thank heaven that you are free again." "i am free," said tell; "you, too, are free. gessler is dead." "gessler dead!" exclaimed stauffacher. "now indeed have we cause for thankfulness. tell me, how did it happen?" and he drew william tell into the house. tell soon told all his story. then stauffacher, seeing how weary he was, gave him food and made him rest. that night tell slept well. all next day he remained hidden in stauffacher's house. "you must not go," said his friend, "gessler's soldiers will be searching for you." but when evening came tell crept out into the dark again, and kind friends rowed him across the lake back to flüelen. there, where a few days before he had been a prisoner, he landed, now free. tell went at once to walter fürst's house, and soon messengers were hurrying all through the land to gather together again the confederates, as those who had met on that eventful night were called. this time they gathered with less fear and less secrecy, for was not the dreaded governor dead? not one but was glad, yet some of the confederates blamed tell, for they had all promised to wait until the first of january before doing anything. "i know," said tell, "but he drove me to it." and every man there who had left a little boy at home felt that he too might have done the same thing. now that tell had struck the first blow, some of the confederates wished to rise at once. but others said, "no, it is only a few weeks now until new year's day. let us wait." so they waited, and everything seemed quiet and peaceful in the land, for the emperor sent no governor to take gessler's place, as he was far away in austria, too busy fighting and quarreling there to think of switzerland in the meantime. "when i have finished this war," he said, "it will be time enough to crush these swiss rebels." hero of persia rustem adapted by alfred j. church i the seven adventures of rustem king keïkobad died, and his son kaoüs sat upon his throne. at first he was a moderate and prudent prince; but finding his riches increase, and his armies grow more and more numerous, he began to believe that there was no one equal to him in the whole world, and that he could do what he would. one day as he sat drinking in one of the chambers of his palace, and boasting after his custom, a genius, disguised as a minstrel, came to the king's chamberlain, and desired to be admitted to the royal presence. "i came," he said, "from the country of the genii, and i am a sweet singer. maybe the king, if he were to hear me, would give me a post in his court." the chamberlain went to the king, and said, "there is a minstrel at the gate; he has a harp in his hand, and his voice is marvelously sweet." "bring him up," said the king. so they brought him in, and gave him a place among the musicians, and commanded that he should give them a trial of his powers. so the minstrel, after playing a prelude on his harp, sang a song of the land of the genii. "there is no land in all the world" this was the substance of his song--"like mazanderan, the land of the genii. all the year round the rose blooms in its gardens and the hyacinth on its hills. it knows no heat nor cold, only an eternal spring. the nightingales sing in its thicket, and through its valleys wander the deer, and the water of its stream is as the water of roses, delighting the soul with its perfume. of its treasures there is no end; the whole country is covered with gold and embroidery and jewels. no man can say that he is happy unless he has seen mazanderan." when the king heard this song, he immediately conceived the thought of marching against this wonderful country. turning, therefore, to his warriors, he said: "we are given over to feasting; but the brave must not suffer himself to rest in idleness. i am wealthier and, i doubt not, stronger than all the kings that have gone before me; it becomes me also to surpass them in my achievements. we will conquer the land of genii." the warriors of the king were little pleased to hear such talk from his lips. no one ventured to speak, but their hearts were full of trouble and fear, for they had no desire to fight against the genii. "we are your subjects, o king," they said, "and will do as you desire." but when they were by themselves, and could speak openly, they said one to another, "what a trouble is this that has come of our prosperous fortune! unless by good fortune the king forgets this purpose of his, we and the whole country are lost. jemshid, whom the genii and the peris and the very birds of the air used to obey, never ventured to talk in this fashion of mazanderan, or to seek war against the genii; and feridun, though he was the wisest of kings, and skilful in all magical arts, never cherished such a plan." so they sat, overwhelmed with anxiety. at last one of them said, "my friends, there is only one way of escaping from this danger. let us send a swift dromedary to zal of the white hair, with this message: 'though your head be covered with dust, do not stay to wash it, but come.' perhaps zal will give the king wise advice, and, telling him that this plan of his is nothing but a counsel of satan, will persuade him to change his purpose. otherwise we are lost, small and great." the nobles listened to this advice, and sent a messenger to zal, mounted on a swift dromedary. when zal heard what had happened, he said: "the king is self-willed. he has not yet felt either the cold or the heat of the world. he thinks that all men, great and small, tremble at his sword, and it must needs be that he learn better by experience. however, i will go; i will give him the best advice that i can. if he will be persuaded by me, it will be well; but if not, the way is open, and rustem shall go with his army." all night long he revolved these matters in his heart. the next morning he went his way, and arrived at the court of the king. the king received him with all honor, bade him sit by his side, and inquired how he had borne the fatigue of his journey, and of the welfare of rustem, his son. then zal spoke: "i have heard, my lord, that you are forming plans against the land of the genii. will it please you to listen to me? there have been mighty kings before you, but never during all my years, which now are many, has any one of them conceived in his heart such a design as this. this land is inhabited by genii that are skilful in all magical arts. they can lay such bonds upon men that no one is able to hurt them. no sword is keen enough to cut them through; riches and wisdom and valor are alike powerless against them. i implore you, therefore, not to waste your riches, and the riches of your country and the blood of your warriors, on so hopeless an enterprise." the king answered, "doubtless it is true that the kings my predecessors never ventured to entertain such a plan. but am i not superior to them in courage, in power and wealth? had they such warriors as you, and rustem your son? do not think to turn me from my purpose. i will go against the country of these accursed magicians, and verily i will not leave one single soul alive in it, for they are an evil race. if you do not care to come with me, at least refrain from advising me to sit idle upon my throne." when zal heard this answer, he said: "you are the king, and we are your slaves. whatever you ordain is right and just, and it is only by thy good pleasure that we breathe and move. i have said what was in my heart. all that remains now is to obey, and to pray that the ruler of the world may prosper your counsels." when he had thus spoken, zal took leave of the king, and departed for his own country. the very next day the king set out with his army for the land of the genii, and, after marching for several days, pitched his tent at the foot of mount asprus, and held a great revel all the night long with his chiefs. the next morning he said, "choose me two thousand men who will break down the gates of mazanderan with their clubs. and take care that when you have taken the city you spare neither young nor old, for i will rid the world of these magicians." they did as the king commanded, and in a short space of time the city, which was before the richest and most beautiful in the whole world, was made into a desert. when the king of mazanderan heard of these things he called a messenger, and said: "go to the white genius and say to him, 'the persians have come with a great army and are destroying everything. make haste and help me, or there will be nothing left to preserve.'" the white genius said, "tell the king not to be troubled; i will see to these persians." that same night the whole army of king kaoüs was covered with a wonderful cloud. the sky was dark as pitch, and there fell from it such a terrible storm of hailstones that no one could stand against them. when the next morning came, lo! the king and all that had not fled--for many fled to their own country--or been killed by the hailstones, were blind. seven days they remained terrified and helpless. on the eighth day they heard the voice, loud as a clap of thunder, of the white genius. "king," said he, "you coveted the land of mazanderan, you entered the city, you slew and took prisoners many of the people; but you did not know what i could do. and now, see, you have your desire. your lot is of your own contriving." the white genius then gave over the king and his companions to the charge of an army of twelve thousand genii, and commanded that they should be kept in prison, and have just so much food given them as should keep them alive from day to day. kaoüs, however, contrived to send by one of his warriors a message to zal the white-haired, telling him of all the troubles that had come upon him. when zal heard the news he was cut to the heart, and sent without delay for rustem. "rustem," said he, "this is no time for a man to eat and drink and take his pleasure. the king is in the hands of satan, and we must deliver him. as for me, i am old and feeble; but you are of the age for war. saddle raksh, your horse, and set forth without a moment's delay. the white genius must not escape the punishment of his misdeeds at your hands." "the way is long," said rustem; "how shall i go?" "there are two ways," answered zal, "and both are difficult and dangerous. the king went by the longer way. the other is by far the shorter, a two-weeks' march and no more; but it is full of lions and evil genii, and it is surrounded by darkness. still, i would have you go by it. god will be your helper; and difficult as the way may be, it will have an end, and your good horse raksh will accomplish it. and if it be the will of heaven that you should fall by the hand of the white genius, who can change the ordering of destiny? sooner or later we must all depart, and death should be no trouble to him who has filled the earth with his glory." "my father, i am ready to do your bidding," said rustem. "nevertheless, the heroes of old cared not to go of their own accord into the land of death; and it is only he who is weary of life that throws himself in the way of a roaring lion. still i go, and i ask for no help but from the justice of god. with that on my side i will break the charm of the magicians. the white genius himself shall not escape me." rustem armed himself, and went on his way. rustem made such speed that he accomplished two days' journey in one. but at last, finding himself hungry and weary, and seeing that there were herds of wild asses in the plain which he was traversing, he thought that he would catch one of them for his meal, and rest for the night. so pressing his knees into his horse's side, he pursued one of them. there was no escape for the swiftest beast when rustem was mounted on raksh, and in a very short time a wild ass was caught with the lasso. rustem struck a light with a flintstone, and making a fire with brambles and branches of trees, roasted the ass and ate it for his meal. this done he took the bridle from his horse, let him loose to graze upon the plain, and prepared himself to sleep in a bed of rushes. now in the middle of this bed of rushes was a lion's lair, and at the end of the first watch the lion came back, and was astonished to see lying asleep on the rushes a man as tall as an elephant, with a horse standing near him. the lion said to himself, "i must first tear the horse, and then the rider will be mine whenever i please." so he leaped at raksh; but the horse darted at him like a flash of fire, and struck him on the head with his fore feet. then he seized him by the back with his teeth, and battered him to pieces on the earth. when rustem awoke and saw the dead lion, which indeed was of a monstrous size, he said to raksh, "wise beast, who bade you fight with a lion? if you had fallen under his claws, how should i have carried to mazanderan this cuirass and helmet, this lasso, my bow and my sword?" then he went to sleep again; but awaking at sunrise, saddled raksh and went on his way. he had now to accomplish the most difficult part of his journey, across a waterless desert, so hot that the very birds could not live in it. horse and rider were both dying of thirst, and rustem, dismounting, could scarcely struggle along while he supported his steps by his spear. when he had almost given up all hope, he saw a well-nourished ram pass by. "where," said he to himself, "is the reservoir from which this creature drinks?" accordingly he followed the ram's footsteps, holding his horse's bridle in one hand and his sword in the other, and the ram led him to a spring. then rustem lifted up his eyes to heaven and thanked god for his mercies; afterwards he blessed the ram, saying, "no harm come to thee forever! may the grass of the valleys and the desert be always green for thee, and may the bow of him that would hunt thee be broken, for thou hast saved rustem; verily, without thee he would have been torn to pieces by the wild beasts of the desert." after this he caught another wild ass, and roasted him for his meal. then having bathed in the spring, he lay down to sleep; but before he lay down, he said to raksh, his horse: "do not seek quarrel or friendship with any. if an enemy come, run to me; and do not fight either with genius or lion." after this he slept; and raksh now grazed, and now galloped over the plain. now it so happened that there was a great dragon that had its bed in this part of the desert. so mighty a beast was it, that not even a genius had dared to pass by that way. the dragon was astonished to see a man asleep and a horse by his side, and began to make its way to the horse. raksh did as he had been bidden, and running towards his master, stamped with his feet upon the ground. rustem awoke, and seeing nothing when he looked about him--for the dragon meanwhile had disappeared--was not a little angry. he rebuked raksh, and went to sleep again. then the dragon came once more out of the darkness, and the horse ran with all speed to his master, tearing up the ground and kicking. a second time the sleeper awoke, but as he saw nothing but darkness round him, he was greatly enraged, and said to his faithful horse: "why do you disturb me? if it wearies you to see me asleep, yet you cannot bring the night to an end. i said that if a lion came to attack you, i would protect you; but i did not tell you to trouble me in this way. verily, if you make such a noise again, i will cut off your head and go on foot, carrying all my arms and armor with me to mazanderan." a third time rustem slept, and a third time the dragon came. this time raksh, who did not venture to come near his master, fled over the plain; he was equally afraid of the dragon and of rustem. still his love for his master did not suffer him to rest. he neighed and tore up the earth, till rustem woke up again in a rage. but this time god would not suffer the dragon to hide himself, and rustem saw him through the darkness, and, drawing his sword, rushed at him. but first he said, "tell me your name; my hand must not tear your soul from your body before i know your name." the dragon said, "no man can ever save himself from my claws; i have dwelt in this desert for ages, and the very eagles have not dared to fly across. tell me then your name, bold man. unhappy is the mother that bore you." "i am rustem, son of zal of the white hair," said the hero, "and there is nothing on earth that i fear." then the dragon threw itself upon rustem. but the horse raksh laid back his ears, and began to tear the dragon's back with his teeth, just as a lion might have torn it. the hero stood astonished for a while; then, drawing his sword, severed the monster's head from his body. then, having first bathed, he returned thanks to god, and mounting on raksh, went his way. all that day he traveled across the plain, and came at sunset to the land of the magicians. just as the daylight was disappearing, he spied a delightful spot for his night's encampment. there were trees and grass, and a spring of water. and beside the spring there was a flagon of red wine, and a roast kid, with bread and salt and confectionery neatly arranged. rustem dismounted, unsaddled his horse, and looked with astonishment at the provisions thus prepared. it was the meal of certain magicians, who had vanished when they saw him approach. of this he knew nothing, but sitting down without question, filled a cup with wine, and taking a harp which he found lying by the side of the flagon, sang: "the scourge of the wicked am i, and my days still in battle go by; not for me is the red wine that glows in the reveler's cup, nor the rose that blooms in the land of delight; but with monsters and demons to fight." the music and the voice of the singer reached the ears of a witch that was in those parts. forthwith, by her art, she made her face as fair as spring, and, approaching rustem, asked him how he fared, and sat down by his side. the hero thanked heaven that he had thus found in the desert such good fare and excellent company; for he did not know that the lovely visitor was a witch. he welcomed her, and handed her a cup of wine; but, as he handed it, he named the name of god, and at the sound her color changed, and she became as black as charcoal. when rustem saw this, quick as the wind he threw his lasso over her head. "confess who you are," he cried; "show yourself in your true shape." then the witch was changed into a decrepit, wrinkled old woman. rustem cut her in halves with a blow of his sword. the next day he continued his journey with all the speed that he could use, and came to a place where it was utterly dark. neither sun, nor moon, nor stars could be seen; and all that the hero could do was to let the reins fall on his horse's neck, and ride on as chance might direct. in time he came to a most delightful country, where the sun was shining brightly, and where the ground was covered with green. rustem took off his cuirass of leopard-skin, and his helmet, and let raksh find pasture where he could in the fertile fields, and lay down to sleep. when the keeper of the fields saw the horse straying among them and feeding, he was filled with rage; and running up to the hero, dealt him with his stick a great blow upon the feet. rustem awoke. "son of satan," said the keeper, "why do you let your horse stray in the cornfields?" rustem leaped upon the man, and without uttering a word good or bad, wrenched his ears from his head. now the owner of this fertile country was a young warrior of renown named aulad. the keeper ran up to him with his ears in his hand, and said: "there has come to this place a son of satan, clad in a cuirass of leopard-skin, with an iron helmet. i was going to drive his horse out of the cornfields, when he leaped upon me, tore my ears from my head without saying a single word, and then lay down to sleep again." aulad was about to go hunting with his chiefs; but when he heard the keeper's story he altered his plan, and set out to the place where he heard that rustem had been seen. rustem, as soon as he saw him approach, and a great company with him, ran to raksh, leaped on his back, and rode forward. aulad said to him, "who are you? what are you doing here? why did you pluck off my keeper's ears and let your horse feed in the cornfields?" "if you were to hear my name," said rustem, "it would freeze the blood in your heart." so saying he drew his sword, and fastening his lasso to the bow of his saddle, rushed as a lion rushes into the midst of a herd of oxen. with every blow of his sword he cut off a warrior's head, till the whole of aulad's company was either slain or scattered. aulad himself he did not kill, but throwing his lasso, caught him by the neck, dragged him from his horse, and bound his hands. "now," said he, "if you will tell me the truth, and, without attempting to deceive, will show me where the white genius dwells, and will guide me to where king kaoüs is kept prisoner, then i will make you king of mazanderan. but if you speak a word of falsehood you die." "it is well," said aulad; "i will do what you desire. i will show you where the king is imprisoned. it is four hundred miles from this place; and four hundred miles farther, a difficult and dangerous way, is the dwelling of the white genius. it is a cavern so deep that no man has ever sounded it, and it lies between two mountains. twelve thousand genii watch it during the night, for the white genius is the chief and master of all his tribe. you will find him a terrible enemy, and, for all your strong arms and hands, your keen sword, your lance and your club, you will scarcely be able to conquer him; and when you have conquered him, there will still be much to be done. in the city of the king of mazanderan there are thousands of warriors, and not a coward among them; and besides these, there are two hundred war-elephants. were you made of iron, could you venture to deal alone with these sons of satan?" rustem smiled when he heard this, and said, "come with me, and you will see what a single man, who puts his trust in god, can do. and now show me first the way to the king's prison." rustem mounted on raksh, and rode gaily forward, and aulad ran in front of him. for a whole day and night he ran, nor ever grew tired, till they reached the foot of mount asprus, where king kaoüs had fallen into the power of the genii. about midnight they heard a great beating of drums, and saw many fires blaze up. rustem said to aulad, "what mean these fires that are blazing up to right and left of us?" aulad answered, "this is the way into mazanderan. the great genius arzeng must be there." then rustem went to sleep; and when he woke in the morning he took his lasso and fastened aulad to the trunk of a tree. then hanging his grandfather's club to his saddlebow, he rode on. his conflict with arzeng, the chief of the army of the genii, was soon finished. as he approached the camp he raised his battle-cry. his shout was loud enough, one would have said, to split the very mountains; and arzeng, when he heard it, rushed out of his tent. rustem set spurs to his horse, and galloping up to the genius, caught him by the head, tore it from the body, and threw it into the midst of the army. when the genii saw it, and caught sight also of the great club, they fled in the wildest confusion, fathers trampling upon their sons in their eagerness to escape. the hero put the whole herd of them to the sword, and then returned as fast as he could to the place where he had left aulad bound to the tree. he unloosed the knots of the lasso, and bidding him lead the way to the prison-house of the king, set spurs to raksh, aulad running in front as before. when they entered the town, raksh neighed. his voice was as loud as thunder, and the king heard it, and in a moment understood all that had happened. "that is the voice of raksh," he said to the persians that were with him; "our evil days are over. this was the way in which he neighed in king kobad's time, when he made war on the scythians." the persians said to themselves, "our poor king has lost his senses, or he is dreaming. there is no help for us." but they had hardly finished speaking when the hero appeared, and did homage to the king. kaoüs embraced him, and then said: "if you are to help me, you must go before the genii know of your coming. so soon as the white genius shall hear of the fall of arzeng, he will assemble such an army of his fellows as shall make all your pains and labor lost. but you must know that you have great difficulties to overcome. first, you must cross seven mountains, all of them occupied by troops of genii; then you will see before you a terrible cavern--more terrible, i have heard say, than any other place in the world. the entrance to it is guarded by warrior genii, and in it dwells the white genius himself. he is both the terror and the hope of his army. conquer him, and all will be well. a wise physician tells me that the only remedy for my blindness is to drop into my eyes three drops of the white genius's blood. go and conquer, if you would save your king." without any delay rustem set forth, raksh carrying him like the wind. when he reached the great cavern, he said to aulad, who had guided him on his way as before, "the time of conflict is come. show me the way." aulad answered, "when the sun shall grow hot, the genii will go to sleep. that will be your time to conquer them." rustem waited till the sun was at its highest, and then went forth to battle. the genii that were on guard fled at the sound of his voice, and he went on without finding any to resist him till he came to the great cavern of which the king had spoken. it was a terrible place to see, and he stood for a while with his sword in his hand, doubting what he should do. no one would choose such a spot for battle; and as for escaping from it, that was beyond all hope. long he looked into the darkness, and at last he saw a monstrous shape, which seemed to reach across the whole breadth of the cave. it was the white genius that was lying asleep. rustem did not attempt to surprise him in his sleep, but woke him by shouting his battle-cry. when the white genius saw him, he rushed at once to do battle with him. first he caught up from the ground a stone as big as a millstone and hurled it at him. for the first time rustem felt a thrill of fear, so terrible was his enemy. nevertheless, gathering all his strength, he struck at him a great blow with his sword and cut off one of his feet. the monster, though having but one foot, leaped upon him like a wild elephant, and seized him by the breast and arms, hoping to throw him to the ground, and tore from his body great pieces of flesh, so that the whole place was covered with blood. rustem said to himself, "if i escape to-day i shall live forever;" and the white genius thought, "even if i do deliver myself from the claws of this dragon, i shall never see mazanderan again." still he did not lose courage, but continued to struggle against the hero with all his might. so the two fought together, the blood and sweat running from them in great streams. at last rustem caught the genius round the body, and, putting out all his strength, hurled him to the ground with such force that his soul was driven out of his body. then he plunged his poinard into the creature's heart, and tore the liver out of his body. this done he returned to aulad, whom he had left bound with his lasso, loosed him, and set out for the place where he had left the king. but first aulad said to him, "i have the marks of your bonds upon me; my body is bruised with the knots of your lasso; i beseech you to respect the promise which you made me of a reward. a hero is bound to keep his word." rustem said: "i promised that you should be king of mazanderan, and king you shall be. but i have much to do before my word can be kept. i have a great battle to fight, in which i may be conquered, and i must rid this country of the magicians with whom it is encumbered. but be sure that, when all is done, i will not fail of the promises which i have made." so rustem returned to king kaoüs, and, dropping the blood of the white genius into his eyes, gave him back his sight. seven days the king and his nobles feasted together, rustem having the chief place. on the eighth day they set out to clear the country of the accursed race of magicians. when they had done this, the king said, "the guilty have now been punished. let no others suffer. and now i will send a letter to the king of mazanderan." so the king wrote a letter in these words: "you see how god has punished the wrong-doers--how he has brought to naught the genii and the magicians. quit then your town, and come here to pay homage and tribute to me. if you will not, then your life shall be as the life of arzeng and the white genius." this letter was carried to the king by a certain chief named ferbad. when the king had read it, he was greatly troubled. three days he kept ferbad as his guest, and then sent back by him this answer: "shall the water of the sea be equal to wine? am i one to whom you can say, 'come down from your throne, and present yourself before me?' make ready to do battle with me, for verily i will bring upon the land of persia such destruction that no man shall be able to say what is high and what is low." ferbad hastened back to the king of persia. "the man," he said, "is resolved not to yield." then the king sent to rustem. and rustem said, "send me with a letter that shall be as keen as a sword and a message like a thunder-cloud." so the king sent for a scribe, who, making the point of his reed as fine as an arrowhead, wrote thus: "these are foolish words, and do not become a man of sense. put away your arrogance, and be obedient to my words. if you refuse, i will bring such an army against you as shall cover your land from one sea to the other; and the ghost of the white genius shall call the vultures to feast on your brains." the king set his seal to this letter, and rustem departed with it, with his club hanging to his saddlebow. when the king of mazanderan heard of his coming, he sent some of his nobles to meet him. when rustem saw them, he caught a huge tree that was by the wayside in his hands, twisted it with all his might, and tore it up, roots and all. then he poised it in his hand as if it were a javelin. one of the nobles, the strongest of them all, rode up to him, caught one of his hands, and pressed it with all his might. rustem only smiled; but when in his turn he caught the noble's hand in his, he crushed all the veins and bones, so that the man fell fainting from his horse. when the king heard what had been done, he called one of his warriors, kalahour by name, the strongest man in his dominions, and said to him, "go and meet this messenger; show him your prowess, and cover his face with shame." so kalahour rode to meet rustem, and, taking him by the hand, wrung it with all the strength of an elephant. the hand turned blue with the pain, but the hero did not flinch or give any sign of pain. but when in his turn he wrung the hand of kalahour, the nails dropped from it as the leaves drop from a tree. kalahour rode back, his hand hanging down, and said to the king, "it will be better for you to make peace than to fight with this lion, whose strength is such that no man can stand against him. pay this tribute, and we will make it good to you. otherwise we are lost." at this moment rustem rode up. the king gave him a place at his right hand, and asked him of his welfare. rustem, for answer, gave him the letter of kei-kaöus. when the king had read the letter, his face became black as thunder. then he said, "carry back this answer to your master: 'you are lord of persia, and i of mazanderan. be content; seek not that which is not yours. otherwise your pride will lead you to your fall.'" the king would have given rustem royal gifts, robes of honor, and horses, and gold. but the hero would have none of them, but went away in anger. when he had returned to the king of persia, he said to him, "fear nothing, but make ready for battle. as for the warriors of this land of mazanderan, they are nothing; i count them no better than a grain of dust." meanwhile the king of the magicians prepared for war. he gathered an army, horsemen and foot-soldiers and elephants, that covered the face of the earth, and approached the borders of persia; and, on the other hand, king kaoüs marshaled his men of war and went out to encounter him. the king himself took his place in the center of the line of battle, and in front of all stood the great rustem. one of the nobles of mazanderan came out of their line, with a great club in his hands, and approaching the persian army, cried in a loud voice, "who is ready to fight with me? he should be one who is able to change water into dust." none of the persian nobles answered him, and king kaoüs said, "why is it, ye men of war, that your faces are troubled, and your tongues silent before this genius?" but still the nobles made no answer. then rustem caught the rein of his horse, and, putting the point of his lance over his shoulder, rode up to the king, and said, "will the king give me permission to fight with this genius?" the king said, "the task is worthy of you, for none of the persians dare to meet this warrior. go and prosper!" so rustem set spurs to raksh, and rode against the warrior who had challenged the persians. "hear," he said, as soon as he came near, "your name is blotted out of the list of the living; for the moment is come when you shall suffer the recompense of all your misdeeds." the warrior answered, "boast not yourself so proudly. my sword makes mothers childless." when rustem heard this, he cried with a voice of thunder, "i am rustem!" and the warrior, who had no desire to fight the champion of the world, turned his back and fled. but rustem pursued him, and thrust at him with his lance where the belt joins the coat of mail, and pierced him through, for the armor could not turn the point of the great spear. then he lifted him out of his saddle, and raised him up in the air, as if he were a bird which a man had run through with a spit. this done, he dashed him down dead upon the ground, and all the nobles of mazanderan stood astonished at the sight. after this the two armies joined battle. the air grew dark, and the flashing of the swords and clubs flew like the lightning out of a thunder-cloud, and the mountains trembled with the cries of the combatants. never had any living man seen so fierce a fight before. for seven days the battle raged, and neither the one side nor the other could claim the victory. on the eighth day king kaoüs bowed himself before god, taking his crown from his head, and prayed with his face to the ground, saying, "o lord god, give me, i beseech thee, the victory over the genii who fear thee not." then he set his helmet on his head, and put himself at the head of his army. first of all rustem began the attack, charging the center of the enemy's army. he directed his course straight to the place where the king of mazanderan stood, surrounded with his chiefs and a great host of elephants. when the king saw the shine of his lance, he lost courage, and would have fled. but rustem, with a cry like a lion's roar, charged him, and struck him on the girdle with his spear. the spear pierced the steel, and would have slain the king, but that by his magic art he changed himself, before the eyes of all the persian army, into a mass of rock. rustem stood astonished to see such a marvel. when king kaoüs came up with his warriors, he said to rustem, "what is it? what ails you that you tarry here, doing no thing?" "my lord," answered rustem, "i charged the king of mazanderan, spear in hand; i struck him on the girdle, but when i thought to see him fall from his saddle, he changed himself into a rock before my eyes, and now he feels nothing that i can do." then king kaoüs commanded that they should take up the rock and put it before his throne. but when the strongest men in the army came to handle the rock, or sought to draw it with cords, they could do nothing; it remained immovable. rustem, however, without any one to help him, lifted it from the earth, and carrying it into the camp, threw it down before the king's tent, and said, "give up these cowardly tricks and the art of magic, else i will break this rock into pieces." when the king of mazanderan heard this, he made himself visible, black as a thunder-cloud, with a helmet of steel upon his head and a coat of mail upon his breast. rustem laughed, and caught him by the hand, and brought him before the king. "see," said he, "this lump of rock, who, for fear of the hatchet has given himself up to me!" when kaoüs looked at him and observed how savage of aspect he was, with the neck and tusks of a wild boar, he saw that he was not worthy to sit upon a throne, and bade the executioner take him away and cut him in pieces. this done, he sent to the enemies' camp, and commanded that all the spoil, the king's throne, and his crown and girdle, the horses and the armor, the swords and jewels, should be gathered together. then he called up his army, and distributed to them rewards in proportion to what they had done and suffered. after this he spent seven days in prayer, humbling himself before god, and offering up thanksgiving. on the eighth day he seated himself on his throne, and opened his treasures, and gave to all that had need. thus he spent another seven days. on the fifteenth day, he called for wine and cups of amber and rubies, and sat for seven days on his throne, with the wine-cup in his hand. he sent for rustem, and said, "it is of your doing, by your strength and courage, that i have recovered my throne." rustem answered, "a man must do his duty. as for the honors that you would give me, i owe them all to aulad, who has always guided me on the right way. he hopes to be made king of mazanderan. let the king, therefore, if it please him, invest him with the crown." and this the king did. the next day kaoüs and his army set out to return to the land of persia. when he had reached his palace, he seated himself upon his throne, and sending for rustem, put him at his side. rustem said, "my lord, permit me to go back to the old man zal, my father." the king commanded that they should bring splendid presents for the hero. the presents were these: a throne of turquoise, adorned with rams' heads; a royal crown set about with jewels; a robe of brocade of gold, such as is worn by the king of kings; a bracelet and a chain of gold; a hundred maidens, with faces fair as the full moon, and girdles of gold; a hundred youths, whose hair was fragrant with musk; a hundred horses, harnessed with gold and silver; a hundred mules with black hair, with loads of brocade that came from the land of room and from persia. after these they brought and laid at the hero's feet a hundred purses filled with gold pieces; a cup of rubies, filled with pure musk; another cup of turquoise, filled with attar of roses; and, last of all, a letter written on pages of silk, in ink made of wine and aloes and amber and the black of lamps. by this letter the king of kings gave anew to rustem the kingdom of the south. then kaoüs blessed him, and said: "may you live as long as men shall see the sun and the moon in heaven! may the great of the earth join themselves to you! may your own soul be full of modesty and tenderness!" rustem prostrated himself on the earth, and kissed the throne; and so took his departure. list of best books of myths and legends ashton, t. _romances of chivalry_ baldwin, j. _the story of siegfried_ baldwin, j. _the story of roland_ baring-gould, s. _curious myths of the middle ages_ brooks, e. _the story of the Æneid_ brooks, e. _the story of the odyssey_ bulfinch, t. _the age of chivalry_ bulfinch, t. _legends of charlemagne_ burns, j. _popular tales and legends_ clodd, e. _the birth and growth of myths_ clodd, e. _the childhood of religions_ cooker, f.j. _nature myths and stories_ cox, g.w. _tales of ancient greece_ cox, g.w. _popular romances of the middle ages_ crane, f.t. _italian popular tales_ crommelin, mary _famous legends_ curtin, j. _myths and folk tales of the russians_ drake, s.a. _north-east legends_ du maurier, george. _legend of camelot_ edwardson, e. _the courteous knight_ emmerson, ellen russell _indian myths_ fisk, john. _myths and myth makers_ francillon, r.e. _gods and heroes_ gayley, f. _classic myths_ grinnel, g.b. _blackfoot lodge tales_ guerber, h.a. _myths of northern lands_ guerber, h.a. _myths of greece and rome_ hall, j. _legends of the west_ hawthorne, nathaniel _tanglewood tales_ hawthorne, nathaniel _the wonder book_ hearn, lafcadio _some chinese ghosts_ holbrook, f. _the book of nature's myths_ hulme, f.e. _mythland_ hunt, r. _popular romances of the west of england_ irving, washington _the legend of sleepy hollow_ jacobs, joseph _the book of wonder voyages_ kennedy, patrick _legendary fictions of the irish celts_ kingsley, charles. _greek heroes_ kupler, grace h._stories of long ago_ lang, andrew _modern mythology_ lanier, sydney _the boy's king arthur_ lanier, sydney _the boy's mabinogion_ lanier, sydney _the boy's percy_ lanier, sydney _the boy's froissart_ leitz, a.f. _legends and stories_ lover, samuel _legends and stories of ireland_ mabie, h.w. _norse tales_ mabie, h.w. (ed.) _myths that every child should know_ macaulay, lord _lays of ancient rome_ macdonald, george _the light princess_ magnusson and morris _the saga library_ mitchell, s.w. _prince little boy_ nutt, alfred _folk lore_ pratt-chadwick, m.l. _legends of the red children_ pyle, howard. _story of king arthur_ ralston, w.r.s._russian folk tales_ saintine, x.b. _myths of the rhine_ schrammem, j. _legends of german heroes of the middle ages_ scudder, h.e. _the book of legends_ scudder, h.e. _the children's book_ scudder, h.e. _the book of folk stories_ skinner, c.m. _myths and legends_ southey, r. _chronicles of the cid_ tanner, d. _legends from the red man's forest_ tappan, e.m. _robin hood: his book_ wilde, lady _ancient legends_ transcribed from the longmans, green and co. edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk custom and myth to e. b. tylor, author of 'primitive culture,' these studies of the oldest stories are dedicated. introduction. though some of the essays in this volume have appeared in various serials, the majority of them were written expressly for their present purpose, and they are now arranged in a designed order. during some years of study of greek, indian, and savage mythologies, i have become more and more impressed with a sense of the inadequacy of the prevalent method of comparative mythology. that method is based on the belief that myths are the result of a disease of language, as the pearl is the result of a disease of the oyster. it is argued that men at some period, or periods, spoke in a singular style of coloured and concrete language, and that their children retained the phrases of this language after losing hold of the original meaning. the consequence was the growth of myths about supposed persons, whose names had originally been mere 'appellations.' in conformity with this hypothesis the method of comparative mythology examines the proper names which occur in myths. the notion is that these names contain a key to the meaning of the story, and that, in fact, of the story the names are the germs and the oldest surviving part. the objections to this method are so numerous that it is difficult to state them briefly. the attempt, however, must be made. to desert the path opened by the most eminent scholars is in itself presumptuous; the least that an innovator can do is to give his reasons for advancing in a novel direction. if this were a question of scholarship merely, it would be simply foolhardy to differ from men like max muller, adalbert kuhn, breal, and many others. but a revolutionary mythologist is encouraged by finding that these scholars usually differ from each other. examples will be found chiefly in the essays styled 'the myth of cronus,' 'a far- travelled tale,' and 'cupid and psyche.' why, then, do distinguished scholars and mythologists reach such different goals? clearly because their method is so precarious. they all analyse the names in myths; but, where one scholar decides that the name is originally sanskrit, another holds that it is purely greek, and a third, perhaps, is all for an accadian etymology, or a semitic derivation. again, even when scholars agree as to the original root from which a name springs, they differ as much as ever as to the meaning of the name in its present place. the inference is, that the analysis of names, on which the whole edifice of philological 'comparative mythology' rests, is a foundation of shifting sand. the method is called 'orthodox,' but, among those who practise it, there is none of the beautiful unanimity of orthodoxy. these objections are not made by the unscholarly anthropologist alone. curtius has especially remarked the difficulties which beset the 'etymological operation' in the case of proper names. 'peculiarly dubious and perilous is mythological etymology. are we to seek the sources of the divine names in aspects of nature, or in moral conceptions; in special greek geographical conditions, or in natural circumstances which are everywhere the same: in dawn with her rays, or in clouds with their floods; are we to seek the origin of the names of heroes in things historical and human, or in physical phenomena?' { a} professor tiele, of leyden, says much the same thing: 'the uncertainties are great, and there is a constant risk of taking mere jeux d'esprit for scientific results.' { b} every name has, if we can discover or conjecture it, a meaning. that meaning--be it 'large' or 'small,' 'loud' or 'bright,' 'wise' or 'dark,' 'swift' or 'slow'--is always capable of being explained as an epithet of the sun, or of the cloud, or of both. whatever, then, a name may signify, some scholars will find that it originally denoted the cloud, if they belong to one school, or the sun or dawn, if they belong to another faction. obviously this process is a mere jeu d'esprit. this logic would be admitted in no other science, and, by similar arguments, any name whatever might be shown to be appropriate to a solar hero. the scholarly method has now been applied for many years, and what are the results? the ideas attained by the method have been so popularised that they are actually made to enter into the education of children, and are published in primers and catechisms of mythology. but what has a discreet scholar to say to the whole business? 'the difficult task of interpreting mythical names has, so far, produced few certain results'--so writes otto schrader. { } though schrader still has hopes of better things, it is admitted that the present results are highly disputable. in england, where one set of these results has become an article of faith, readers chiefly accept the opinions of a single etymological school, and thus escape the difficulty of making up their minds when scholars differ. but differ scholars do, so widely and so often, that scarcely any solid advantages have been gained in mythology from the philological method. the method of philological mythology is thus discredited by the disputes of its adherents. the system may be called orthodox, but it is an orthodoxy which alters with every new scholar who enters the sacred enclosure. even were there more harmony, the analysis of names could throw little light on myths. in stories the names may well be, and often demonstrably are, the latest, not the original, feature. tales, at first told of 'somebody,' get new names attached to them, and obtain a new local habitation, wherever they wander. 'one of the leading personages to be met in the traditions of the world is really no more than--somebody. there is nothing this wondrous creature cannot achieve; one only restriction binds him at all--that the name he assumes shall have some sort of congruity with the office he undertakes, _and even from this he oftentimes breaks loose_.' { } we may be pretty sure that the adventures of jason, perseus, oedipous, were originally told only of 'somebody.' the names are later additions, and vary in various lands. a glance at the essay on 'cupid and psyche' will show that a history like theirs is known, where neither they nor their counterparts in the veda, urvasi and pururavas, were ever heard of; while the incidents of the jason legend are familiar where no greek word was ever spoken. finally, the names in common use among savages are usually derived from natural phenomena, often from clouds, sky, sun, dawn. if, then, a name in a myth can be proved to mean cloud, sky, sun, or what not (and usually one set of scholars find clouds, where others see the dawn), we must not instantly infer that the myth is a nature-myth. though, doubtless, the heroes in it were never real people, the names are as much common names of real people in the savage state, as smith and brown are names of civilised men. for all these reasons, but chiefly because of the fact that stories are usually anonymous at first, that names are added later, and that stories naturally crystallise round any famous name, heroic, divine, or human, the process of analysis of names is most precarious and untrustworthy. a story is told of zeus: zeus means sky, and the story is interpreted by scholars as a sky myth. the modern interpreter forgets, first, that to the myth-maker sky did not at all mean the same thing as it means to him. sky meant, not an airy, infinite, radiant vault, but a person, and, most likely, a savage person. secondly, the interpreter forgets that the tale (say the tale of zeus, demeter, and the mutilated ram) may have been originally anonymous, and only later attributed to zeus, as unclaimed jests are attributed to sheridan or talleyrand. consequently no heavenly phenomena will be the basis and explanation of the story. if one thing in mythology be certain, it is that myths are always changing masters, that the old tales are always being told with new names. where, for example, is the value of a philological analysis of the name of jason? as will be seen in the essay 'a far-travelled tale,' the analysis of the name of jason is fanciful, precarious, disputed, while the essence of his myth is current in samoa, finland, north america, madagascar, and other lands, where the name was never heard, and where the characters in the story have other names or are anonymous. for these reasons, and others too many to be adduced here, i have ventured to differ from the current opinion that myths must be interpreted chiefly by philological analysis of names. the system adopted here is explained in the first essay, called 'the method of folklore.' the name, folklore, is not a good one, but 'comparative mythology' is usually claimed exclusively by the philological interpreters. the second essay, 'the bull-roarer,' is intended to show that certain peculiarities in the greek mysteries occur also in the mysteries of savages, and that on greek soil they are survivals of savagery. 'the myth of cronus' tries to prove that the first part of the legend is a savage nature-myth, surviving in greek religion, while the sequel is a set of ideas common to savages. 'cupid and psyche' traces another aryan myth among savage races, and attempts to show that the myth may have had its origin in a rule of barbarous etiquette. 'a far-travelled tale' examines a part of the jason myth. this myth appears neither to be an explanation of natural phenomena (like part of the myth of cronus), nor based on a widespread custom (like cupid and psyche.) the question is asked whether the story may have been diffused by slow filtration from race to race all over the globe, as there seems no reason why it should have been invented separately (as a myth explanatory of natural phenomena or of customs might be) in many different places. 'apollo and the mouse' suggests hypothetically, as a possible explanation of the tie between the god and the beast, that apollo-worship superseded, but did not eradicate, totemism. the suggestion is little more than a conjecture. 'star myths' points out that greek myths of stars are a survival from the savage stage of fancy in which such stories are natural. 'moly and mandragora' is a study of the greek, the modern, and the hottentot folklore of magical herbs, with a criticism of a scholarly and philological hypothesis, according to which moly is the dog-star, and circe the moon. 'the kalevala' is an account of the finnish national poem; of all poems that in which the popular, as opposed to the artistic, spirit is strongest. the kalevala is thus a link between marchen and volkslieder on one side, and epic poetry on the other. 'the divining rod' is a study of a european and civilised superstition, which is singular in its comparative lack of copious savage analogues. 'hottentot mythology' is a criticism of the philological method, applied to savage myth. 'fetichism and the infinite,' is a review of mr. max muller's theory that a sense of the infinite is the germ of religion, and that fetichism is secondary, and a corruption. this essay also contains a defence of the _evidence_ on which the anthropological method relies. the remaining essays are studies of the 'history of the family,' and of 'savage art.' the essay on 'savage art' is reprinted, by the kind permission of messrs. cassell & co., from two numbers (april and may, ) of the magazine of art. i have to thank the editors and publishers of the contemporary review, the cornhill magazine, and fraser's magazine, for leave to republish 'the early history of the family,' 'the divining rod,' and 'star myths,' and 'the kalevala.' a few sentences in 'the bull-roarer,' and 'hottentot mythology,' appeared in essays in the saturday review, and some lines of 'the method of folklore' in the guardian. to the editors of those journals also i owe thanks for their courteous permission to make this use of my old articles. to mr. e. b. tylor and mr. w. r. s. ralston i must express my gratitude for the kindness with which they have always helped me in all difficulties. i must apologise for the controversial matter in the volume. controversy is always a thing to be avoided, but, in this particular case, when a system opposed to the prevalent method has to be advocated, controversy is unavoidable. my respect for the learning of my distinguished adversaries is none the less great because i am not convinced by their logic, and because my doubts are excited by their differences. perhaps, it should be added, that these essays are, so to speak, only flint-flakes from a neolithic workshop. this little book merely skirmishes (to change the metaphor) in front of a much more methodical attempt to vindicate the anthropological interpretation of myths. but lack of leisure and other causes make it probable that my 'key to all mythologies' will go the way of mr. casaubon's treatise. the method of folklore. after the heavy rain of a thunderstorm has washed the soil, it sometimes happens that a child, or a rustic, finds a wedge-shaped piece of metal or a few triangular flints in a field or near a road. there was no such piece of metal, there were no such flints, lying there yesterday, and the finder is puzzled about the origin of the objects on which he has lighted. he carries them home, and the village wisdom determines that the wedge-shaped piece of metal is a 'thunderbolt,' or that the bits of flint are 'elf-shots,' the heads of fairy arrows. such things are still treasured in remote nooks of england, and the 'thunderbolt' is applied to cure certain maladies by its touch. as for the fairy arrows, we know that even in ancient etruria they were looked on as magical, for we sometimes see their points set, as amulets, in the gold of etruscan necklaces. in perugia the arrowheads are still sold as charms. all educated people, of course, have long been aware that the metal wedge is a celt, or ancient bronze axe-head, and that it was not fairies, but the forgotten peoples of this island who used the arrows with the tips of flint. thunder is only so far connected with them that the heavy rains loosen the surface soil, and lay bare its long hidden secrets. there is a science, archaeology, which collects and compares the material relics of old races, the axes and arrow-heads. there is a form of study, folklore, which collects and compares the similar but immaterial relics of old races, the surviving superstitions and stories, the ideas which are in our time but not of it. properly speaking, folklore is only concerned with the legends, customs, beliefs, of the folk, of the people, of the classes which have least been altered by education, which have shared least in progress. but the student of folklore soon finds that these unprogressive classes retain many of the beliefs and ways of savages, just as the hebridean people use spindle-whorls of stone, and bake clay pots without the aid of the wheel, like modern south sea islanders, or like their own prehistoric ancestors. { a} the student of folklore is thus led to examine the usages, myths, and ideas of savages, which are still retained, in rude enough shape, by the european peasantry. lastly, he observes that a few similar customs and ideas survive in the most conservative elements of the life of educated peoples, in ritual, ceremonial, and religious traditions and myths. though such remains are rare in england, we may note the custom of leading the dead soldier's horse behind his master to the grave, a relic of days when the horse would have been sacrificed. { b} we may observe the persistence of the ceremony by which the monarch, at his coronation, takes his seat on the sacred stone of scone, probably an ancient fetich stone. not to speak, here, of our own religious traditions, the old vein of savage rite and belief is found very near the surface of ancient greek religion. it needs but some stress of circumstance, something answering to the storm shower that reveals the flint arrow-heads, to bring savage ritual to the surface of classical religion. in sore need, a human victim was only too likely to be demanded; while a feast-day, or a mystery, set the greeks dancing serpent-dances or bear-dances like red indians, or swimming with sacred pigs, or leaping about in imitation of wolves, or holding a dog-feast, and offering dog's flesh to the gods. { } thus the student of folklore soon finds that he must enlarge his field, and examine, not only popular european story and practice, but savage ways and ideas, and the myths and usages of the educated classes in civilised races. in this extended sense the term 'folklore' will frequently be used in the following essays. the idea of the writer is that mythology cannot fruitfully be studied apart from folklore, while some knowledge of anthropology is required in both sciences. the science of folklore, if we may call it a science, finds everywhere, close to the surface of civilised life, the remains of ideas as old as the stone elf-shots, older than the celt of bronze. in proverbs and riddles, and nursery tales and superstitions, we detect the relics of a stage of thought, which is dying out in europe, but which still exists in many parts of the world. now, just as the flint arrow-heads are scattered everywhere, in all the continents and isles, and everywhere are much alike, and bear no very definite marks of the special influence of race, so it is with the habits and legends investigated by the student of folklore. the stone arrow-head buried in a scottish cairn is like those which were interred with algonquin chiefs. the flints found in egyptian soil, or beside the tumulus on the plain of marathon, nearly resemble the stones which tip the reed arrow of the modern samoyed. perhaps only a skilled experience could discern, in a heap of such arrow-heads, the specimens which are found in america or africa from those which are unearthed in europe. even in the products of more advanced industry, we see early pottery, for example, so closely alike everywhere that, in the british museum, mexican vases have, ere now, been mixed up on the same shelf with archaic vessels from greece. in the same way, if a superstition or a riddle were offered to a student of folklore, he would have much difficulty in guessing its _provenance_, and naming the race from which it was brought. suppose you tell a folklorist that, in a certain country, when anyone sneezes, people say 'good luck to you,' the student cannot say a priori what country you refer to, what race you have in your thoughts. it may be florida, as florida was when first discovered; it may be zululand, or west africa, or ancient rome, or homeric greece, or palestine. in all these, and many other regions, the sneeze was welcomed as an auspicious omen. the little superstition is as widely distributed as the flint arrow-heads. just as the object and use of the arrow-heads became intelligible when we found similar weapons in actual use among savages, so the salutation to the sneezer becomes intelligible when we learn that the savage has a good reason for it. he thinks the sneeze expels an evil spirit. proverbs, again, and riddles are as universally scattered, and the wolufs puzzle over the same devinettes as the scotch schoolboy or the breton peasant. thus, for instance, the wolufs of senegal ask each other, 'what flies for ever, and rests never?'--answer, 'the wind.' 'who are the comrades that always fight, and never hurt each other?'--'the teeth.' in france, as we read in the 'recueil de calembours,' the people ask, 'what runs faster than a horse, crosses water, and is not wet?'--answer, 'the sun.' the samoans put the riddle, 'a man who stands between two ravenous fishes?'--answer, 'the tongue between the teeth.' again, 'there are twenty brothers, each with a hat on his head?'--answer, 'fingers and toes, with nails for hats.' this is like the french 'un pere a douze fils?'--'l'an.' a comparison of m. rolland's 'devinettes' with the woluf conundrums of boilat, the samoan examples in turner's' samoa,' and the scotch enigmas collected by chambers, will show the identity of peasant and savage humour. a few examples, less generally known, may be given to prove that the beliefs of folklore are not peculiar to any one race or stock of men. the first case is remarkable: it occurs in mexico and ceylon--nor are we aware that it is found elsewhere. in macmillan's magazine { } is published a paper by mrs. edwards, called 'the mystery of the pezazi.' the events described in this narrative occurred on august , , in a bungalow some thirty miles from badiella. the narrator occupied a new house on an estate called allagalla. her native servants soon asserted that the place was haunted by a pezazi. the english visitors saw and heard nothing extraordinary till a certain night: an abridged account of what happened then may be given in the words of mrs. edwards:-- wrapped in dreams, i lay on the night in question tranquilly sleeping, but gradually roused to a perception that discordant sounds disturbed the serenity of my slumber. loth to stir, i still dozed on, the sounds, however, becoming, as it seemed, more determined to make themselves heard; and i awoke to the consciousness that they proceeded from a belt of adjacent jungle, and resembled the noise that would be produced by some person felling timber. shutting my ears to the disturbance, i made no sign, until, with an expression of impatience, e--- suddenly started up, when i laid a detaining grasp upon his arm, murmuring that there was no need to think of rising at present--it must be quite early, and the kitchen cooly was doubtless cutting fire-wood in good time. e--- responded, in a tone of slight contempt, that no one could be cutting fire-wood at that hour, and the sounds were more suggestive of felling jungle; and he then inquired how long i had been listening to them. now thoroughly aroused, i replied that i had heard the sounds for some time, at first confusing them with my dreams, but soon sufficiently awakening to the fact that they were no mere phantoms of my imagination, but a reality. during our conversation the noises became more distinct and loud; blow after blow resounded, as of the axe descending upon the tree, followed by the crash of the falling timber. renewed blows announced the repetition of the operations on another tree, and continued till several were devastated. it is unnecessary to tell more of the tale. in spite of minute examinations and close search, no solution of the mystery of the noises, on this or any other occasion, was ever found. the natives, of course, attributed the disturbance to the pezazi, or goblin. no one, perhaps, has asserted that the aztecs were connected by ties of race with the people of ceylon. yet, when the spaniards conquered mexico, and when sahagun (one of the earliest missionaries) collected the legends of the people, he found them, like the cingalese, strong believers in the mystic tree-felling. we translate sahagun's account of the 'midnight axe':-- when so any man heareth the sound of strokes in the night, as if one were felling trees, he reckons it an evil boding. and this sound they call youaltepuztli (youalli, night; and tepuztli, copper), which signifies 'the midnight hatchet.' this noise cometh about the time of the first sleep, when all men slumber soundly, and the night is still. the sound of strokes smitten was first noted by the temple-servants, called tlamacazque, at the hour when they go in the night to make their offering of reeds or of boughs of pine, for so was their custom, and this penance they did on the neighbouring hills, and that when the night was far spent. whenever they heard such a sound as one makes when he splits wood with an axe (a noise that may be heard afar off), they drew thence an omen of evil, and were afraid, and said that the sounds were part of the witchery of tezeatlipoca, that often thus dismayeth men who journey in the night. now, when tidings of these things came to a certain brave man, one exercised in war, he drew near, being guided by the sound, till he came to the very cause of the hubbub. and when he came upon it, with difficulty he caught it, for the thing was hard to catch: natheless at last he overtook that which ran before him; and behold, it was a man without a heart, and, on either side of the chest, two holes that opened and shut, and so made the noise. then the man put his hand within the breast of the figure and grasped the breast and shook it hard, demanding some grace or gift. as a rule, the grace demanded was power to make captives in war. the curious coincidence of the 'midnight axe,' occurring in lands so remote as ceylon and mexico, and the singular attestation by an english lady of the actual existence of the disturbance, makes this youaltepuztli one of the quaintest things in the province of the folklorist. but, whatever the cause of the noise, or of the beliefs connected with the noise, may be, no one would explain them as the result of community of _race_ between cingalese and aztecs. nor would this explanation be offered to account for the aztec and english belief that the creaking of furniture is an omen of death in a house. obviously, these opinions are the expression of a common state of superstitious fancy, not the signs of an original community of origin. let us take another piece of folklore. all north-country english folk know the kernababy. the custom of the 'kernababy' is commonly observed in england, or, at all events, in scotland, where the writer has seen many a kernababy. the last gleanings of the last field are bound up in a rude imitation of the human shape, and dressed in some tag-rags of finery. the usage has fallen into the conservative hands of children, but of old 'the maiden' was a regular image of the harvest goddess, which, with a sickle and sheaves in her arms, attended by a crowd of reapers, and accompanied with music, followed the last carts home to the farm. { } it is odd enough that the 'maiden' should exactly translate [greek], the old sicilian name of the daughter of demeter. 'the maiden' has dwindled, then, among us to the rudimentary kernababy; but ancient peru had her own maiden, her harvest goddess. here it is easy to trace the natural idea at the basis of the superstitious practice which links the shores of the pacific with our own northern coast. just as a portion of the yule-log and of the christmas bread were kept all the year through, a kind of nest-egg of plenteous food and fire, so the kernababy, english or peruvian, is an earnest that corn will not fail all through the year, till next harvest comes. for this reason the kernababy used to be treasured from autumn's end to autumn's end, though now it commonly disappears very soon after the harvest home. it is thus that acosta describes, in grimston's old translation ( ), the peruvian kernababy and the peruvian harvest home:-- this feast is made comming from the chacra or farme unto the house, saying certaine songs, and praying that the mays (maize) may long continue, the which they call mama cora. what a chance this word offers to etymologists of the old school: how promptly they would recognise, in mama mother--[greek], and in cora--[greek], the mother and the maiden, the feast of demeter and persephone! however, the days of that old school of antiquarianism are numbered. to return to the peruvian harvest home:-- they take a certaine portion of the most fruitefull of the mays that growes in their farmes, the which they put in a certaine granary which they do calle pirua, with certaine ceremonies, watching three nightes; they put this mays in the richest garments they have, and, being thus wrapped and dressed, they worship this pirua, and hold it in great veneration, saying it is the mother of the mays of their inheritances, and that by this means the mays augments and is preserved. in this moneth they make a particular sacrifice, and the witches demand of this pirua, 'if it hath strength sufficient to continue until the next yeare,' and if it answers 'no,' then they carry this mays to the farme to burne, whence they brought it, according to every man's power, then they make another pirua, with the same ceremonies, saying that they renue it, to the ende that the seede of the mays may not perish. the idea that the maize can speak need not surprise us; the mexican held much the same belief, according to sahagun:-- it was thought that if some grains of maize fell on the ground, he who saw them lying there was bound to lift them, wherein, if he failed, he harmed the maize, which plained itself of him to god, saying, 'lord, punish this man, who saw me fallen and raised me not again; punish him with famine, that he may learn not to hold me in dishonour.' well, in all this affair of the scotch kernababy, and the peruvian mama cora, we need no explanation beyond the common simple ideas of human nature. we are not obliged to hold, either that the peruvians and scotch are akin by blood, nor that, at some forgotten time, they met each other, and borrowed each other's superstitions. again, when we find odysseus sacrificing a black sheep to the dead, { } and when we read that the ovahereroes in south africa also appease with a black sheep the spirits of the departed, we do not feel it necessary to hint that the ovahereroes are of greek descent, or have borrowed their ritual from the greeks. the connection between the colour black, and mourning for the dead, is natural and almost universal. examples like these might be adduced in any number. we might show how, in magic, negroes of barbadoes make clay effigies of their enemies, and pierce them, just as greeks did in plato's time, or the men of accad in remotest antiquity. we might remark the australian black putting sharp bits of quartz in the tracks of an enemy who has gone by, that the enemy may be lamed; and we might point to boris godunof forbidding the same practice among the russians. we might watch scotch, and australians, and jews, and french, and aztecs spreading dust round the body of a dead man, that the footprints of his ghost, or of other ghosts, may be detected next morning. we might point to a similar device in a modern novel, where the presence of a ghost is suspected, as proof of the similar workings of the australian mind and of the mind of mrs. riddell. we shall later turn to ancient greece, and show how the serpent-dances, the habit of smearing the body with clay, and other odd rites of the mysteries, were common to hellenic religion, and to the religion of african, australian, and american tribes. now, with regard to all these strange usages, what is the method of folklore? the method is, when an apparently irrational and anomalous custom is found in any country, to look for a country where a similar practice is found, and where the practice is no longer irrational and anomalous, but in harmony with the manners and ideas of the people among whom it prevails. that greeks should dance about in their mysteries with harmless serpents in their hands looks quite unintelligible. when a wild tribe of red indians does the same thing, as a trial of courage, with real rattlesnakes, we understand the red man's motives, and may conjecture that similar motives once existed among the ancestors of the greeks. our method, then, is to compare the seemingly meaningless customs or manners of civilised races with the similar customs and manners which exist among the uncivilised and still retain their meaning. it is not necessary for comparison of this sort that the uncivilised and the civilised race should be of the same stock, nor need we prove that they were ever in contact with each other. similar conditions of mind produce similar practices, apart from identity of race, or borrowing of ideas and manners. let us return to the example of the flint arrowheads. everywhere neolithic arrow-heads are pretty much alike. the cause of the resemblance is no more than this, that men, with the same needs, the same materials, and the same rude instruments, everywhere produced the same kind of arrow-head. no hypothesis of interchange of ideas nor of community of race is needed to explain the resemblance of form in the missiles. very early pottery in any region is, for the same causes, like very early pottery in any other region. the same sort of similarity was explained by the same resemblances in human nature, when we touched on the identity of magical practices and of superstitious beliefs. this method is fairly well established and orthodox when we deal with usages and superstitious beliefs; but may we apply the same method when we deal with myths? here a difficulty occurs. mythologists, as a rule, are averse to the method of folklore. they think it scientific to compare only the myths of races which speak languages of the same family, and of races which have, in historic times, been actually in proved contact with each other. thus, most mythologists hold it correct to compare greek, slavonic, celtic, and indian stories, because greeks, slavs, celts, and hindoos all speak languages of the same family. again, they hold it correct to compare chaldaean and greek myths, because the greeks and the chaldaeans were brought into contact through the phoenicians, and by other intermediaries, such as the hittites. but the same mythologists will vow that it is unscientific to compare a maori or a hottentot or an eskimo myth with an aryan story, because maoris and eskimo and hottentots do not speak languages akin to that of greece, nor can we show that the ancestors of greeks, maoris, hottentots, and eskimo were ever in contact with each other in historical times. now the peculiarity of the method of folklore is that it will venture to compare (with due caution and due examination of evidence) the myths of the most widely severed races. holding that myth is a product of the early human fancy, working on the most rudimentary knowledge of the outer world, the student of folklore thinks that differences of race do not much affect the early mythopoeic faculty. he will not be surprised if greeks and australian blacks are in the same tale. in each case, he holds, all the circumstances of the case must be examined and considered. for instance, when the australians tell a myth about the pleiades very like the greek myth of the pleiades, we must ask a number of questions. is the australian version authentic? can the people who told it have heard it from a european? if these questions are answered so as to make it apparent that the australian pleiad myth is of genuine native origin, we need not fly to the conclusion that the australians are a lost and forlorn branch of the aryan race. two other hypotheses present themselves. first, the human species is of unknown antiquity. in the moderate allowance of , years, there is time for stories to have wandered all round the world, as the aggry beads of ashanti have probably crossed the continent from egypt, as the asiatic jade (if asiatic it be) has arrived in swiss lake-dwellings, as an african trade-cowry is said to have been found in a cornish barrow, as an indian ocean shell has been discovered in a prehistoric bone-cave in poland. this slow filtration of tales is not absolutely out of the question. two causes would especially help to transmit myths. the first is slavery and slave-stealing, the second is the habit of capturing brides from alien stocks, and the law which forbids marriage with a woman of a man's own family. slaves and captured brides would bring their native legends among alien peoples. but there is another possible way of explaining the resemblance (granting that it is proved) of the greek and australian pleiad myth. the object of both myths is to account for the grouping and other phenomena of the constellations. may not similar explanatory stories have occurred to the ancestors of the australians, and to the ancestors of the greeks, however remote their home, while they were still in the savage condition? the best way to investigate this point is to collect all known savage and civilised stellar myths, and see what points they have in common. if they all agree in character, though the greek tales are full of grace, while those of the australians or brazilians are rude enough, we may plausibly account for the similarity of myths, as we accounted for the similarity of flint arrow-heads. the myths, like the arrow-heads, resemble each other because they were originally framed to meet the same needs out of the same material. in the case of the arrow-heads, the need was for something hard, heavy, and sharp--the material was flint. in the case of the myths, the need was to explain certain phenomena--the material (so to speak) was an early state of the human mind, to which all objects seemed equally endowed with human personality, and to which no metamorphosis appeared impossible. in the following essays, then, the myths and customs of various peoples will be compared, even when these peoples talk languages of alien families, and have never (as far as history shows us) been in actual contact. our method throughout will be to place the usage, or myth, which is unintelligible when found among a civilised race, beside the similar myth which is intelligible enough when it is found among savages. a mean term will be found in the folklore preserved by the non-progressive classes in a progressive people. this folklore represents, in the midst of a civilised race, the savage ideas out of which civilisation has been evolved. the conclusion will usually be that the fact which puzzles us by its presence in civilisation is a relic surviving from the time when the ancestors of a civilised race were in the state of savagery. by this method it is not necessary that 'some sort of genealogy should be established' between the australian and the greek narrators of a similar myth, nor between the greek and australian possessors of a similar usage. the hypothesis will be that the myth, or usage, is common to both races, not because of original community of stock, not because of contact and borrowing, but because the ancestors of the greeks passed through the savage intellectual condition in which we find the australians. the questions may be asked, has race nothing, then, to do with myth? do peoples never consciously borrow myths from each other? the answer is, that race has a great deal to do with the development of myth, if it be race which confers on a people its national genius, and its capacity of becoming civilised. if race does this, then race affects, in the most powerful manner, the ultimate development of myth. no one is likely to confound a homeric myth with a myth from the edda, nor either with a myth from a brahmana, though in all three cases the substance, the original set of ideas, may be much the same. in all three you have anthropomorphic gods, capable of assuming animal shapes, tricky, capricious, limited in many undivine ways, yet endowed with magical powers. so far the mythical gods of homer, of the edda, of any of the brahmanas, are on a level with each other, and not much above the gods of savage mythology. this stuff of myth is quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus, and is the original gift of the savage intellect. but the final treatment, the ultimate literary form of the myth, varies in each race. homeric gods, like red indian, thlinkeet, or australian gods, can assume the shapes of birds. but when we read, in homer, of the arming of athene, the hunting of artemis, the vision of golden aphrodite, the apparition of hermes, like a young man when the flower of youth is loveliest, then we recognise the effect of race upon myth, the effect of the greek genius at work on rude material. between the olympians and a thlinkeet god there is all the difference that exists between the demeter of cnidos and an image from easter island. again, the scandinavian gods, when their tricks are laid aside, when odin is neither assuming the shape of worm nor of raven, have a martial dignity, a noble enduring spirit of their own. race comes out in that, as it does in the endless sacrifices, soma drinking, magical austerities, and puerile follies of vedic and brahmanic gods, the deities of a people fallen early into its sacerdotage and priestly second childhood. thus race declares itself in the ultimate literary form and character of mythology, while the common savage basis and stuff of myths may be clearly discerned in the horned, and cannibal, and shape-shifting, and adulterous gods of greece, of india, of the north. they all show their common savage origin, when the poet neglects freya's command and tells of what the gods did 'in the morning of time.' as to borrowing, we have already shown that in prehistoric times there must have been much transmission of myth. the migrations of peoples, the traffic in slaves, the law of exogamy, which always keeps bringing alien women into the families--all these things favoured the migration of myth. but the process lies behind history: we can only guess at it, we can seldom trace a popular legend on its travels. in the case of the cultivated ancient peoples, we know that they themselves believed they had borrowed their religions from each other. when the greeks first found the egyptians practising mysteries like their own, they leaped to the conclusion that their own rites had been imported from egypt. we, who know that both greek and egyptian rites had many points in common with those of mandans, zunis, bushmen, australians--people quite unconnected with egypt--feel less confident about the hypothesis of borrowing. we may, indeed, regard adonis, and zeus bagaeus, and melicertes, as importations from phoenicia. in later times, too, the greeks, and still more the romans, extended a free hospitality to alien gods and legends, to serapis, isis, the wilder dionysiac revels, and so forth. but this habit of borrowing was regarded with disfavour by pious conservatives, and was probably, in the width of its hospitality at least, an innovation. as tiele remarks, we cannot derive dionysus from the assyrian daian nisi, 'judge of men,' a name of the solar god samas, without ascertaining that the wine-god exercised judicial functions, and was a god of the sun. these derivations, 'shocking to common sense,' are to be distrusted as part of the intoxication of new learning. some assyrian scholars actually derive hades from bit edi or bit hadi--'though, unluckily,' says tiele, 'there is no such word in the assyrian text.' on the whole topic tiele's essay { } deserves to be consulted. granting, then, that elements in the worship of dionysus, aphrodite, and other gods, may have been imported with the strange aegypto-assyrian vases and jewels of the sidonians, we still find the same basis of rude savage ideas. we may push back a god from greece to phoenicia, from phoenicia to accadia, but, at the end of the end, we reach a legend full of myths like those which bushmen tell by the camp-fire, eskimo in their dark huts, and australians in the shade of the gunyeh--myths cruel, puerile, obscene, like the fancies of the savage myth-makers from which they sprang. the bull-roarer. a study of the mysteries. as the belated traveller makes his way through the monotonous plains of australia, through the bush, with its level expanses and clumps of grey- blue gum trees, he occasionally hears a singular sound. beginning low, with a kind of sharp tone thrilling through a whirring noise, it grows louder and louder, till it becomes a sort of fluttering windy roar. if the traveller be a new comer, he is probably puzzled to the last degree. if he be an englishman, country-bred, he says to himself, 'why, that is the bull-roarer.' if he knows the colony and the ways of the natives, he knows that the blacks are celebrating their tribal mysteries. the roaring noise is made to warn all women to keep out of the way. just as pentheus was killed (with the approval of theocritus) because he profaned the rites of the women-worshippers of dionysus, so, among the australian blacks, men must, at their peril, keep out of the way of female, and women out of the way of male, celebrations. the instrument which produces the sounds that warn women to remain afar is a toy familiar to english country lads. they call it the bull-roarer. the common bull-roarer is an inexpensive toy which anyone can make. i do not, however, recommend it to families, for two reasons. in the first place, it produces a most horrible and unexampled din, which endears it to the very young, but renders it detested by persons of mature age. in the second place, the character of the toy is such that it will almost infallibly break all that is fragile in the house where it is used, and will probably put out the eyes of some of the inhabitants. having thus, i trust, said enough to prevent all good boys from inflicting bull-roarers on their parents, pastors, and masters, i proceed (in the interests of science) to show how the toy is made. nothing can be less elaborate. you take a piece of the commonest wooden board, say the lid of a packing-case, about a sixth of an inch in thickness, and about eight inches long and three broad, and you sharpen the ends. when finished, the toy may be about the shape of a large bay-leaf, or a 'fish' used as a counter (that is how the new zealanders make it), or the sides may be left plain in the centre, and only sharpened towards the extremities, as in an australian example lent me by mr. tylor. then tie a strong piece of string, about thirty inches long, to one end of the piece of wood and the bull-roarer (the australian natives call it turndun, and the greeks called it [greek]) is complete. now twist the end of the string tightly about your finger, and whirl the bull-roarer rapidly round and round. for a few moments nothing will happen. in a very interesting lecture delivered at the royal institution, mr. tylor once exhibited a bull-roarer. at first it did nothing particular when it was whirled round, and the audience began to fear that the experiment was like those chemical ones often exhibited at institutes in the country, which contribute at most a disagreeable odour to the education of the populace. but when the bull-roarer warmed to its work, it justified its name, producing what may best be described as a mighty rushing noise, as if some supernatural being 'fluttered and buzzed his wings with fearful roar.' grown-up people, of course, are satisfied with a very brief experience of this din, but boys have always known the bull-roarer in england as one of the most efficient modes of making the hideous and unearthly noises in which it is the privilege of youth to delight. the bull-roarer has, of all toys, the widest diffusion, and the most extraordinary history. to study the bull-roarer is to take a lesson in folklore. the instrument is found among the most widely severed peoples, savage and civilised, and is used in the celebration of savage and civilised mysteries. there are students who would found on this a hypothesis that the various races that use the bull-roarer all descend from the same stock. but the bull roarer is introduced here for the very purpose of showing that similar minds, working with simple means towards similar ends, might evolve the bull-roarer and its mystic uses anywhere. there is no need for a hypothesis of common origin, or of borrowing, to account for this widely diffused sacred object. the bull-roarer has been, and is, a sacred and magical instrument in many and widely separated lands. it is found, always as a sacred instrument, employed in religious mysteries, in new mexico, in australia, in new zealand, in ancient greece, and in africa; while, as we have seen, it is a peasant-boy's plaything in england. a number of questions are naturally suggested by the bull-roarer. is it a thing invented once for all, and carried abroad over the world by wandering races, or handed on from one people and tribe to another? or is the bull-roarer a toy that might be accidentally hit on in any country where men can sharpen wood and twist the sinews of animals into string? was the thing originally a toy, and is its religious and mystical nature later; or was it originally one of the properties of the priest, or medicine-man, which in england has dwindled to a plaything? lastly, was this mystical instrument at first employed in the rites of a civilised people like the greeks, and was it in some way borrowed or inherited by south africans, australians, and new mexicans? or is it a mere savage invention, surviving (like certain other features of the greek mysteries) from a distant stage of savagery? our answer to all these questions is that in all probability the presence of the [greek], or bull-roarer, in greek mysteries was a survival from the time when greeks were in the social condition of australians. in the first place, the bull-roarer is associated with mysteries and initiations. now mysteries and initiations are things that tend to dwindle and to lose their characteristic features as civilisation advances. the rites of baptism and confirmation are not secret and hidden; they are common to both sexes, they are publicly performed, and religion and morality of the purest sort blend in these ceremonies. there are no other initiations or mysteries that civilised modern man is expected necessarily to pass through. on the other hand, looking widely at human history, we find mystic rites and initiations numerous, stringent, severe, and magical in character, in proportion to the lack of civilisation in those who practise them. the less the civilisation, the more mysterious and the more cruel are the rites. the more cruel the rites, the less is the civilisation. the red-hot poker with which mr. bouncer terrified mr. verdant green at the sham masonic rites would have been quite in place, a natural instrument of probationary torture, in the freemasonry of australians, mandans, or hottentots. in the mysteries of demeter or bacchus, in the mysteries of a civilised people, the red-hot poker, or any other instrument of torture, would have been out of place. but in the greek mysteries, just as in those of south africans, red indians, and australians, the disgusting practice of bedaubing the neophyte with dirt and clay was preserved. we have nothing quite like that in modern initiations. except at sparta, greeks dropped the tortures inflicted on boys and girls in the initiations superintended by the cruel artemis. { } but greek mysteries retained the daubing with mud and the use of the bull-roarer. on the whole, then, and on a general view of the subject, we prefer to think that the bull-roarer in greece was a survival from savage mysteries, not that the bull-roarer in new mexico, new zealand, australia, and south africa is a relic of civilisation. let us next observe a remarkable peculiarity of the turndun, or australian bull-roarer. the bull-roarer in england is a toy. in australia, according to howitt and fison, { } the bull-roarer is regarded with religious awe. 'when, on lately meeting with two of the surviving kurnai, i spoke to them of the turndun, they first looked cautiously round them to see that no one else was looking, and then answered me in undertones.' the chief peculiarity in connection with the turndun is that women may never look upon it. the chepara tribe, who call it bribbun, have a custom that, 'if seen by a woman, or shown by a man to a woman, the punishment to both is _death_.' among the kurnai, the sacred mystery of the turndun is preserved by a legend, which gives a supernatural sanction to secrecy. when boys go through the mystic ceremony of initiation they are shown turnduns, or bull-roarers, and made to listen to their hideous din. they are then told that, if ever a woman is allowed to see a turndun, the earth will open, and water will cover the globe. the old men point spears at the boy's eyes, saying: 'if you tell this to any woman you will die, you will see the ground broken up and like the sea; if you tell this to any woman, or to any child, you will be killed!' as in athens, in syria, and among the mandans, the deluge-tradition of australia is connected with the mysteries. in gippsland there is a tradition of the deluge. 'some children of the kurnai in playing about found a turndun, which they took home to the camp and showed the women. immediately the earth crumbled away, and it was all water, and the kurnai were drowned.' in consequence of all this mummery the australian women attach great sacredness to the very name of the turndun. they are much less instructed in their own theology than the men of the tribe. one woman believed she had heard pundjel, the chief supernatural being, descend in a mighty rushing noise, that is, in the sound of the turndun, when boys were being 'made men,' or initiated. { } on turnduns the australian sorcerers can fly up to heaven. turnduns carved with imitations of water- flowers are used by medicine-men in rain-making. new zealand also has her bull-roarers; some of them, carved in relief, are in the christy museum, and one is engraved here. i have no direct evidence as to the use of these maori bull-roarers in the maori mysteries. their employment, however, may perhaps be provisionally inferred. one can readily believe that the new zealand bull-roarer may be whirled by any man who is repeating a karakia, or 'charm to raise the wind':-- loud wind, lasting wind, violent whistling wind, dig up the calm reposing sky, come, come. in new zealand { a} 'the natives regarded the wind as an indication of the presence of their god,' a superstition not peculiar to maori religion. the 'cold wind' felt blowing over the hands at spiritualistic seances is also regarded (by psychical researchers) as an indication of the presence of supernatural beings. the windy roaring noise made by the bull-roarer might readily be considered by savages, either as an invitation to a god who should present himself in storm, or as a proof of his being at hand. we have seen that this view was actually taken by an australian woman. the hymn called 'breath,' or haha, a hymn to the mystic wind, is pronounced by maori priests at the moment of the initiation of young men in the tribal mysteries. it is a mere conjecture, and possibly enough capable of disproof, but we have a suspicion that the use of the mystica vannus iacchi was a mode of raising a sacred wind analogous to that employed by whirlers of the turndun. { b} servius, the ancient commentator on virgil, mentions, among other opinions, this--that the vannus was a sieve, and that it symbolised the purifying effect of the mysteries. but it is clear that servius was only guessing; and he offers other explanations, among them that the vannus was a crate to hold offerings, primitias frugum. we have studied the bull-roarer in australia, we have caught a glimpse of it in england. its existence on the american continent is proved by letters from new mexico, and by a passage in mr. frank cushing's 'adventures in zuni.' { } in zuni, too, among a semi-civilised indian tribe, or rather a tribe which has left the savage for the barbaric condition, we find the bull-roarer. here, too, the instrument--a 'slat,' mr. gushing calls it--is used as a call to the ceremonial observance of the tribal ritual. the zunis have various 'orders of a more or less sacred and sacerdotal character.' mr. cushing writes:-- these orders were engaged in their annual ceremonials, of which little was told or shown me; but, at the end of four days, i heard one morning a _deep whirring noise_. running out, i saw a procession of three priests of the bow, in plumed helmets and closely-fitting cuirasses, both of thick buckskin--gorgeous and solemn with sacred embroideries and war-paint, begirt with bows, arrows, and war-clubs, and each distinguished by his badge of degree--coming down one of the narrow streets. the principal priest carried in his arms a wooden idol, ferocious in aspect, yet beautiful with its decorations of shell, turquoise, and brilliant paint. it was nearly hidden by symbolic slats and prayer-sticks most elaborately plumed. he was preceded by a guardian with drawn bow and arrows, while another followed, _twirling the sounding slat_, which had attracted alike my attention and that of hundreds of the indians, who hurriedly flocked to the roofs of the adjacent houses, or lined the street, bowing their heads in adoration, and scattering sacred prayer-meal on the god and his attendant priests. slowly they wound their way down the hill, across the river, and off toward the mountain of thunder. soon an identical procession followed and took its way toward the western hills. i watched them long until they disappeared, and a few hours afterward there arose from the top of 'thunder mountain' a dense column of smoke, simultaneously with another from the more distant western mesa of 'u-ha-na-mi,' or 'mount of the beloved.' then they told me that for four days i must neither touch nor eat flesh or oil of any kind, and for ten days neither throw any refuse from my doors, nor permit a spark to leave my house, for 'this was the season of the year when the "grandmother of men" (fire) was precious.' here then, in zuni, we have the bull-roarer again, and once more we find it employed as a summons to the mysteries. we do not learn, however, that women in zuni are forbidden to look upon the bull-roarer. finally, the south african evidence, which is supplied by letters from a correspondent of mr. tylor's, proves that in south africa, too, the bull- roarer is employed to call the men to the celebration of secret functions. a minute description of the instrument, and of its magical power to raise a wind, is given in theal's 'kaffir folklore,' p. . the bull-roarer has not been made a subject of particular research; very probably later investigations will find it in other parts of the modern world besides america, africa, new zealand, and australia. i have myself been fortunate enough to encounter the bull-roarer on the soil of ancient greece and in connection with the dionysiac mysteries. clemens of alexandria, and arnobius, an early christian father who follows clemens, describe certain toys of the child dionysus which were used in the mysteries. among these are _turbines_, [greek], and [greek]. the ordinary dictionaries interpret all these as whipping-tops, adding that [greek] is sometimes 'a magic wheel.' the ancient scholiast on clemens, however, writes: 'the [greek] is a little piece of wood, to which a string is fastened, and in the mysteries it is whirled round to make a roaring noise.' { } here, in short, we have a brief but complete description of the bull-roarer of the australian turndun. no single point is omitted. the [greek], like the turndun, is a small object of wood, it is tied to a string, when whirled round it produces a roaring noise, and it is used at initiations. this is not the end of the matter. in the part of the dionysiac mysteries at which the toys of the child dionysus were exhibited, and during which (as it seems) the [greek], or bull-roarer, was whirred, the performers daubed themselves all over with clay. this we learn from a passage in which demosthenes describes the youth of his hated adversary, aeschines. the mother of aeschines, he says, was a kind of 'wise woman,' and dabbler in mysteries. aeschines used to aid her by bedaubing the initiate over with clay and bran. { a} the word [greek], here used by demosthenes, is explained by harpocration as the ritual term for daubing the initiated. a story was told, as usual, to explain this rite. it was said that, when the titans attacked dionysus and tore him to pieces, they painted themselves first with clay, or gypsum, that they might not be recognised. nonnus shows, in several places, that down to his time the celebrants of the bacchic mysteries retained this dirty trick. precisely the same trick prevails in the mysteries of savage peoples. mr. winwood reade { b} reports the evidence of mongilomba. when initiated, mongilomba was 'severely flogged in the fetich house' (as young spartans were flogged before the animated image of artemis), and then he was 'plastered over with goat-dung.' among the natives of victoria, { c} the 'body of the initiated is bedaubed with clay, mud, charcoal powder, and filth of every kind.' the girls are plastered with charcoal powder and white clay, answering to the greek gypsum. similar daubings were performed at the mysteries by the mandans, as described by catlin; and the zunis made raids on mr. cushing's black paint and chinese ink for like purposes. on the congo, mr. johnson found precisely the same ritual in the initiations. here, then, not to multiply examples, we discover two singular features in common between greek and savage mysteries. both greeks and savages employ the bull-roarer, both bedaub the initiated with dirt or with white paint or chalk. as to the meaning of the latter very un-aryan practice, one has no idea. it is only certain that war parties of australian blacks bedaub themselves with white clay to alarm their enemies in night attacks. the phocians, according to herodotus (viii. ), adopted the same 'aisy stratagem,' as captain costigan has it. tellies, the medicine-man ([greek]), chalked some sixty phocians, whom he sent to make a night attack on the thessalians. the sentinels of the latter were seized with supernatural horror, and fled, 'and after the sentinels went the army.' in the same way, in a night attack among the australian kurnai, { a} 'they all rapidly painted themselves with pipe-clay: red ochre is no use, it cannot frighten an enemy.' if, then, greeks in the historic period kept up australian tactics, it is probable that the ancient mysteries of greece might retain the habit of daubing the initiated which occurs in savage rites. 'come now,' as herodotus would say, 'i will show once more that the mysteries of the greeks resemble those of bushmen.' in lucian's treatise on dancing, { b} we read, 'i pass over the fact that you cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing. . . . to prove this i will not mention the secret acts of worship, on account of the uninitiated. but this much all men know, that most people say of those who reveal the mysteries, that they "dance them out."' here liddell and scott write, rather weakly, 'to dance out, let out, betray, probably of some dance which burlesqued these ceremonies.' it is extremely improbable that, in an age when it was still forbidden to reveal the [greek], or secret rites, those rites would be mocked in popular burlesques. lucian obviously intends to say that the matter of the mysteries was set forth in ballets d'action. now this is exactly the case in the surviving mysteries of the bushmen. shortly after the rebellion of langalibalele's tribe, mr. orpen, the chief magistrate in st. john's territory, made the acquaintance of qing, one of the last of an all but exterminated tribe. qing 'had never seen a white man, except fighting,' when he became mr. orpen's guide. he gave a good deal of information about the myths of his people, but refused to answer certain questions. 'you are now asking the secrets that are not spoken of.' mr. orpen asked, 'do you know the secrets?' qing replied, 'no, only the initiated men of that dance know these things.' to 'dance' this or that means, 'to be acquainted with this or that mystery;' the dances were originally taught by cagn, the mantis, or grasshopper god. in many mysteries, qing, as a young man, was not initiated. he could not 'dance them out.' { } there are thus undeniably close resemblances between the greek mysteries and those of the lowest contemporary races. as to the bull-roarer, its recurrence among greeks, zunis, kamilaroi, maoris, and south african races, would be regarded, by some students, as a proof that all these tribes had a common origin, or had borrowed the instrument from each other. but this theory is quite unnecessary. the bull-roarer is a very simple invention. anyone might find out that a bit of sharpened wood, tied to a string, makes, when whirred, a roaring noise. supposing that discovery made, it is soon turned to practical use. all tribes have their mysteries. all want a signal to summon the right persons together and warn the wrong persons to keep out of the way. the church bell does as much for us, so did the shaken seistron for the egyptians. people with neither bells nor seistra find the bull-roarer, with its mysterious sound, serve their turn. the hiding of the instrument from women is natural enough. it merely makes the alarm and absence of the curious sex doubly sure. the stories of supernatural consequences to follow if a woman sees the turndun lend a sanction. this is not a random theory, without basis. in brazil, the natives have no bull-roarer, but they have mysteries, and the presence of the women at the mysteries of the men is a terrible impiety. to warn away the women, the brazilians make loud 'devil-music' on what are called 'jurupari pipes.' now, just as in australia, _the women may not see the jurupari pipes on pain of death_. when the sound of the jurupari pipes is heard, as when the turndun is heard in australia, every woman flees and hides herself. the women are always executed if they see the pipes. mr. alfred wallace bought a pair of these pipes, but he had to embark them at a distance from the village where they were procured. the seller was afraid that some unknown misfortune would occur if the women of his village set eyes on the juruparis. { } the conclusion from all these facts seems obvious. the bull-roarer is an instrument easily invented by savages, and easily adopted into the ritual of savage mysteries. if we find the bull-roarer used in the mysteries of the most civilised of ancient peoples, the most probable explanation is, that the greeks retained both the mysteries, the bull-roarer, the habit of bedaubing the initiate, the torturing of boys, the sacred obscenities, the antics with serpents, the dances, and the like, from the time when their ancestors were in the savage condition. that more refined and religious ideas were afterwards introduced into the mysteries seems certain, but the rites were, in many cases, simply savage. unintelligible (except as survivals) when found among hellenes, they become intelligible enough among savages, because they correspond to the intellectual condition and magical fancies of the lower barbarism. the same sort of comparison, the same kind of explanation, will account, as we shall see, for the savage myths as well as for the savage customs which survived among the greeks. the myth of cronus. in a maori pah, when a little boy behaves rudely to his parents, he is sometimes warned that he is 'as bad as cruel tutenganahau.' if he asks who tutenganahau was, he is told the following story:-- 'in the beginning, the heaven, rangi, and the earth, papa, were the father and mother of all things. "in these days the heaven lay upon the earth, and all was darkness. they had never been separated." heaven and earth had children, who grew up and lived in this thick night, and they were unhappy because they could not see. between the bodies of their parents they were imprisoned, and there was no light. the names of the children were tumatuenga, tane mahuta, tutenganahau, and some others. so they all consulted as to what should be done with their parents, rangi and papa. "shall we slay them, or shall we separate them?" "go to," said tumatuenga, "let us slay them." "no," cried tane mahuta, "let us rather separate them. let one go upwards, and become a stranger to us; let the other remain below, and be a parent to us." only tawhiri matea (the wind) had pity on his own father and mother. then the fruit-gods, and the war-god, and the sea-god (for all the children of papa and rangi were gods) tried to rend their parents asunder. last rose the forest- god, cruel tutenganahau. he severed the sinews which united heaven and earth, rangi and papa. then he pushed hard with his head and feet. then wailed heaven and exclaimed earth, "wherefore this murder? why this great sin? why destroy us? why separate us?" but tane pushed and pushed: rangi was driven far away into the air. "_they became visible, who had hitherto been concealed between the hollows of their parents' breasts_." only the storm-god differed from his brethren: he arose and followed his father, rangi, and abode with him in the open spaces of the sky.' this is the maori story of the severing of the wedded heaven and earth. the cutting of them asunder was the work of tutenganahau and his brethren, and the conduct of tutenganahau is still held up as an example of filial impiety. { a} the story is preserved in sacred hymns of very great antiquity, and many of the myths are common to the other peoples of the pacific. { b} now let us turn from new zealand to athens, as she was in the days of pericles. socrates is sitting in the porch of the king archon, when euthyphro comes up and enters into conversation with the philosopher. after some talk, euthyphro says, 'you will think me mad when i tell you whom i am prosecuting and pursuing!' 'why, has the fugitive wings?' asks socrates. 'nay, he is not very volatile at his time of life!' 'who is he?' 'my father.' 'good heavens! you don't mean that. what is he accused of?' 'murder, socrates.' then euthyphro explains the case, which quaintly illustrates greek civilisation. euthyphro's father had an agricultural labourer at naxos. one day this man, in a drunken passion, killed a slave. euthyphro's father seized the labourer, bound him, threw him into a ditch, 'and then sent to athens to ask a diviner what should be done with him.' before the answer of the diviner arrived, the labourer literally 'died in a ditch' of hunger and cold. for this offence, euthyphro was prosecuting his own father. socrates shows that he disapproves, and euthyphro thus defends the piety of his own conduct: 'the impious, whoever he may be, ought not to go unpunished. for do not men regard zeus as the best and most righteous of gods? yet even they admit that zeus bound his own father cronus, because he wickedly devoured his sons; and that cronus, too, had punished his own father, uranus, for a similar reason, in a nameless manner. and yet when _i_ proceed against _my_ father, people are angry with me. this is their inconsistent way of talking, when the gods are concerned, and when i am concerned.' here socrates breaks in. he 'cannot away with these stories about the gods,' and so he has just been accused of impiety, the charge for which he died. socrates cannot believe that a god, cronus, mutilated his father uranus, but euthyphro believes the whole affair: 'i can tell you many other things about the gods which would quite amaze you.' { } * * * * * we have here a typical example of the way in which mythology puzzled the early philosophers of greece. socrates was anxious to be pious, and to respect the most ancient traditions of the gods. yet at the very outset of sacred history he was met by tales of gods who mutilated and bound their own parents. not only were such tales hateful to him, but they were of positively evil example to people like euthyphro. the problem remained, how did the fathers of the athenians ever come to tell such myths? * * * * * let us now examine the myth of cronus, and the explanations which have been given by scholars. near the beginning of things, according to hesiod (whose cosmogony was accepted in greece), earth gave birth to heaven. later, heaven, uranus, became the husband of gaea, earth. just as rangi and papa, in new zealand, had many children, so had uranus and gaea. as in new zealand, some of these children were gods of the various elements. among them were oceanus, the deep, and hyperion, the sun--as among the children of earth and heaven, in new zealand, were the wind and the sea. the youngest child of the greek heaven and earth was 'cronus of crooked counsel, who ever hated his mighty sire.' now even as the children of the maori heaven and earth were 'concealed between the hollows of their parents' breasts,' so the greek heaven used to 'hide his children from the light in the hollows of earth.' both earth and her children resented this, and, as in new zealand, the children conspired against heaven, taking earth, however, into their counsels. thereupon earth produced iron, and bade her children avenge their wrongs. { a} now fear fell on all of them, except cronus, who, like tutenganahau, was all for action. cronus determined to end the embraces of heaven and earth. but, while the maori myth conceives of heaven and earth as of two beings which have never been separated before, hesiod makes heaven amorously approach his wife from a distance. then cronus stretched out his hand, armed with a sickle of iron, or steel, and mutilated uranus. thus were heaven and earth practically divorced. but as in the maori myth one of the children of heaven clave to his sire, so, in greek, oceanus remained faithful to his father. { b} this is the first portion of the myth of cronus. can it be denied that the story is well illustrated and explained by the new zealand parallel, the myth of the cruelty of tutenganahau? by means of this comparison, the meaning of the myth is made clear enough. just as the new zealanders had conceived of heaven and earth as at one time united, to the prejudice of their children, so the ancestors of the greeks had believed in an ancient union of heaven and earth. both by greeks and maoris, heaven and earth were thought of as living persons, with human parts and passions. their union was prejudicial to their children, and so the children violently separated the parents. this conduct is regarded as impious, and as an awful example to be avoided, in maori pahs. in naxos, on the other hand, euthyphro deemed that the conduct of cronus deserved imitation. if ever the maoris had reached a high civilisation, they would probably have been revolted, like socrates, by the myth which survived from their period of savagery. mr. tylor well says, { a} 'just as the adzes of polished jade, and the cloaks of tied flax-fibre, which these new zealanders were using but yesterday, are older in their place in history than the bronze battle-axes and linen mummy-cloths of ancient egypt, so the maori poet's shaping of nature into nature-myth belongs to a stage of intellectual history which was passing away in greece five-and- twenty centuries ago. the myth-maker's fancy of heaven and earth as father and mother of all things naturally suggested the legend that they in old days abode together, but have since been torn asunder.' * * * * * that this view of heaven and earth is natural to early minds, mr. tylor proves by the presence of the myth of the union and violent divorce of the pair in china. { b} puang-ku is the chinese cronus, or tutenganahau. in india, { c} dyaus and prithivi, heaven and earth, were once united, and were severed by indra, their own child. this, then, is our interpretation of the exploit of cronus. it is an old surviving nature-myth of the severance of heaven and earth, a myth found in china, india, new zealand, as well as in greece. of course it is not pretended that chinese and maoris borrowed from indians and greeks, or came originally of the same stock. similar phenomena, presenting themselves to be explained by human minds in a similar stage of fancy and of ignorance, will account for the parallel myths. the second part of the myth of cronus was, like the first, a stumbling- block to the orthodox in greece. of the second part we offer no explanation beyond the fact that the incidents in the myth are almost universally found among savages, and that, therefore, in greece they are probably survivals from savagery. the sequel of the myth appears to account for nothing, as the first part accounts for the severance of heaven and earth. in the sequel a world-wide marchen, or tale, seems to have been attached to cronus, or attracted into the cycle of which he is centre, without any particular reason, beyond the law which makes detached myths crystallise round any celebrated name. to look further is, perhaps, chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas. the conclusion of the story of cronus runs thus:--he wedded his sister, rhea, and begat children--demeter, hera, hades, poseidon, and, lastly, zeus. 'and mighty cronus swallowed down each of them, each that came to their mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent, that none other of the proud children of uranus should hold kingly sway among the immortals.' cronus showed a ruling father's usual jealousy of his heirs. it was a case of friedrich wilhelm and friedrich. but cronus (acting in a way natural in a story perhaps first invented by cannibals) swallowed his children instead of merely imprisoning them. heaven and earth had warned him to beware of his heirs, and he could think of no safer plan than that which he adopted. when rhea was about to become the mother of zeus, she fled to crete. here zeus was born, and when cronus (in pursuit of his usual policy) asked for the baby, he was presented with a stone wrapped up in swaddling bands. after swallowing the stone, cronus was easy in his mind; but zeus grew up, administered a dose to his father, and compelled him to disgorge. 'the stone came forth first, as he had swallowed it last.' { a} the other children also emerged, all alive and well. zeus fixed the stone at delphi, where, long after the christian era, pausanias saw it. { b} it was not a large stone, pausanias tells us, and the delphians used to anoint it with oil and wrap it up in wool on feast-days. all greek temples had their fetich-stones, and each stone had its legend. this was the story of the delphian stone, and of the fetichism which survived the early years of christianity. a very pretty story it is. savages more frequently smear their fetich-stones with red paint than daub them with oil, but the latter, as we learn from theophrastus's account of the 'superstitious man,' was the greek ritual. * * * * * this anecdote about cronus was the stumbling-block of the orthodox greek, the jest of the sceptic, and the butt of the early christian controversialists. found among bushmen or australians the narrative might seem rather wild, but it astonishes us still more when it occurs in the holy legends of greece. our explanation of its presence there is simple enough. like the erratic blocks in a modern plain, like the flint- heads in a meadow, the story is a relic of a very distant past. the glacial age left the boulders on the plain, the savage tribes of long ago left the arrowheads, the period of savage fancy left the story of cronus and the rites of the fetich-stone. similar rites are still notoriously practised in the south sea islands, in siberia, in india and africa and melanesia, by savages. and by savages similar tales are still told. * * * * * we cannot go much lower than the bushmen, and among bushman divine myths is room for the 'swallowing trick' attributed to cronus by hesiod. the chief divine character in bushman myth is the mantis insect. his adopted daughter is the child of kwai hemm, a supernatural character, 'the all- devourer.' the mantis gets his adopted daughter to call the swallower to his aid; but kwai hemm swallows the mantis, the god-insect. as zeus made his own wife change herself into an insect, for the convenience of swallowing her, there is not much difference between bushman and early greek mythology. kwai hemm is killed by a stratagem, and all the animals whom he has got outside of, in a long and voracious career, troop forth from him alive and well, like the swallowed gods from the maw of cronus. { a} now, story for story, the bushman version is much less offensive than that of hesiod. but the bushman story is just the sort of story we expect from bushmen, whereas the hesiodic story is not at all the kind of tale we look for from greeks. the explanation is, that the greeks had advanced out of a savage state of mind and society, but had retained their old myths, myths evolved in the savage stage, and in harmony with that condition of fancy. among the kaffirs { b} we find the same 'swallow-myth.' the igongqongqo swallows all and sundry; a woman cuts the swallower with a knife, and 'people came out, and cattle, and dogs.' in australia, a god is swallowed. as in the myth preserved by aristophanes in the 'birds,' the australians believe that birds were the original gods, and the eagle, especially, is a great creative power. the moon was a mischievous being, who walked about the world, doing what evil he could. one day he swallowed the eagle-god. the wives of the eagle came up, and the moon asked them where he might find a well. they pointed out a well, and, as he drank, they hit the moon with a stone tomahawk, and out flew the eagle. { c} this is oddly like grimm's tale of 'the wolf and the kids.' the wolf swallowed the kids, their mother cut a hole in the wolf, let out the kids, stuffed the wolf with stones, and sewed him up again. the wolf went to the well to drink, the weight of the stones pulled him in, and he was drowned. similar stories are common among the red indians, and mr. im thurn has found them in guiana. how savages all over the world got the idea that men and beasts could be swallowed and disgorged alive, and why they fashioned the idea into a divine myth, it is hard to say. mr. tylor, in 'primitive culture,' { a} adds many examples of the narrative. the basutos have it; it occurs some five times in callaway's 'zulu nursery tales.' in greenland the eskimo have a shape of the incident, and we have all heard of the escape of jonah. it has been suggested that night, covering up the world, gave the first idea of the swallowing myth. now in some of the stories the night is obviously conceived of as a big beast which swallows all things. the notion that night is an animal is entirely in harmony with savage metaphysics. in the opinion of the savage speculator, all things are men and animals. 'ils se persuadent que non seulement les hommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres choses sont animees,' says one of the old jesuit missionaries in canada. { b} 'the wind was formerly a person; he became a bird,' say the bushmen. g' oo ka! kui (a very respectable bushman, whose name seems a little hard to pronounce), once saw the wind-person at haarfontein. savages, then, are persuaded that night, sky, cloud, fire, and so forth, are only the schein, or sensuous appearance, of things that, in essence, are men or animals. a good example is the bringing of night to vanua lava, by qat, the 'culture-hero' of melanesia. at first it was always day, and people tired of it. qat heard that night was at the torres islands, and he set forth to get some. qong (night) received qat well, blackened his eyebrows, showed him sleep, and sent him off with fowls to bring dawn after the arrival of night should make dawn a necessary. next day qat's brothers saw the sun crawl away west, and presently night came creeping up from the sea. 'what is this?' cried the brothers. 'it is night,' said qat; 'sit down, and when you feel something in your eyes, lie down and keep quiet.' so they went to sleep. 'when night had lasted long enough, qat took a piece of red obsidian, and cut the darkness, and the dawn came out.' { } night is more or less personal in this tale, and solid enough to be cut, so as to let the dawn out. this savage conception of night, as the swallower and disgorger, might start the notion of other swallowing and disgorging beings. again the bushmen, and other savage peoples, account for certain celestial phenomena by saying that 'a big star has swallowed his daughter, and spit her out again.' while natural phenomena, explained on savage principles, might give the data of the swallow-myth, we must not conclude that all beings to whom the story is attached are, therefore, the night. on this principle cronus would be the night, and so would the wolf in grimm. for our purposes it is enough that the feat of cronus is a feat congenial to the savage fancy and repugnant to the civilised greeks who found themselves in possession of the myth. beyond this, and beyond the inference that the cronus myth was first evolved by people to whom it seemed quite natural, that is, by savages, we do not pretend to go in our interpretation. * * * * * to end our examination of the myth of cronus, we may compare the solutions offered by scholars. as a rule, these solutions are based on the philological analysis of the names in the story. it will be seen that very various and absolutely inconsistent etymologies and meanings of cronus are suggested by philologists of the highest authority. these contradictions are, unfortunately, rather the rule than the exception in the etymological interpretation of myths. * * * * * the opinion of mr. max muller has always a right to the first hearing from english inquirers. mr. muller, naturally, examines first the name of the god whose legend he is investigating. he writes: 'there is no such being as kronos in sanskrit. kronos did not exist till long after zeus in greece. zeus was called by the greeks the son of time ([greek]). this is a very simple and very common form of mythological expression. it meant originally, not that time was the origin or source of zeus, but [greek] or [greek] was used in the sense of "connected with time, representing time, existing through all time." derivatives in -[greek] and -[greek] took, in later times, the more exclusive meaning of patronymics. . . . when this (the meaning of [greek] as equivalent to ancient of days) ceased to be understood, . . . people asked themselves the question, why is zeus called [greek]? and the natural and almost inevitable answer was, because he is the son, the offspring of a more ancient god, kronos. this may be a very old myth in greece; but the misunderstanding which gave rise to it could have happened in greece only. we cannot expect, therefore, a god kronos in the veda.' to expect greek in the veda would certainly be sanguine. 'when this myth of kronos had once been started, it would roll on irresistibly. if zeus had once a father called kronos, kronos must have a wife.' it is added, as confirmation, that 'the name of [greek] belongs originally to zeus only, and not to his later' (in hesiod elder) 'brothers, poseidon and hades.' { a} mr. muller says, in his famous essay on 'comparative mythology' { b}: 'how can we imagine that a few generations before that time' (the age of solon) 'the highest notions of the godhead among the greeks were adequately expressed by the story of uranos maimed by kronos,--of kronos eating his children, swallowing a stone, and vomiting out alive his whole progeny. among the lowest tribes of africa and america, we hardly find anything more hideous and revolting.' we have found a good deal of the sort in africa and america, where it seems not out of place. one objection to mr. muller's theory is, that it makes the mystery no clearer. when greeks were so advanced in hellenism that their own early language had become obsolete and obscure, they invented the god [greek], to account for the patronymic (as they deemed it) [greek], son of [greek]. but why did they tell such savage and revolting stories about the god they had invented? mr. muller only says the myth 'would roll on irresistibly.' but why did the rolling myth gather such very strange moss? that is the problem; and, while mr. muller's hypothesis accounts for the existence of a god called [greek], it does not even attempt to show how full-blown greeks came to believe such hideous stories about the god. * * * * * this theory, therefore, is of no practical service. the theory of adalbert kuhn, one of the most famous of sanskrit scholars, and author of 'die herabkunft des feuers,' is directly opposed to the ideas of mr. muller. in cronus, mr. muller recognises a god who could only have come into being among greeks, when the greeks had begun to forget the original meaning of 'derivatives in -[greek] and -[greek].' kuhn, on the other hand, derives [greek] from the same root as the sanskrit krana. { } krana means, it appears, der fur sich schaffende, he who creates for himself, and cronus is compared to the indian pragapati, about whom even more abominable stories are told than the myths which circulate to the prejudice of cronus. according to kuhn, the 'swallow-myth' means that cronus, the lord of light and dark powers, swallows the divinities of light. but in place of zeus (that is, according to kuhn, of the daylight sky) he swallows a stone, that is, the sun. when he disgorges the stone (the sun), he also disgorges the gods of light whom he had swallowed. i confess that i cannot understand these distinctions between the father and lord of light and dark (cronus) and the beings he swallowed. nor do i find it easy to believe that myth-making man took all those distinctions, or held those views of the creator. however, the chief thing to note is that mr. muller's etymology and kuhn's etymology of cronus can hardly both be true, which, as their systems both depend on etymological analysis, is somewhat discomfiting. the next etymological theory is the daring speculation of mr. brown. in 'the great dionysiak myth' { a} mr. brown writes: 'i regard kronos as the equivalent of karnos, karnaios, karnaivis, the horned god; assyrian, karnu; hebrew, keren, horn; hellenic, kronos, or karnos.' mr. brown seems to think that cronus is 'the ripening power of harvest,' and also 'a wily savage god,' in which opinion one quite agrees with him. why the name of cronus should mean 'horned,' when he is never represented with horns, it is hard to say. but among the various foreign gods in whom the greeks recognised their own cronus, one hea, 'regarded by berosos as kronos,' seems to have been 'horn-wearing.' { b} horns are lacking in seb and il, if not in baal hamon, though mr. brown would like to behorn them. let us now turn to preller. { a} according to preller, kronos is connected with [greek], to fulfil, to bring to completion. the harvest month, the month of ripening and fulfilment, was called [greek] in some parts of greece, and the jolly harvest-feast, with its memory of saturn's golden days, was named [greek]. the sickle of cronus, the sickle of harvest-time, works in well with this explanation, and we have a kind of pun in homer which points in the direction of preller's derivation from [greek]:-- [greek] and in sophocles ('tr.' )-- [greek]. preller illustrates the mutilation of uranus by the maori tale of tutenganahau. the child-swallowing he connects with punic and phoenician influence, and semitic sacrifices of men and children. porphyry { b} speaks of human sacrifices to cronus in rhodes, and the greeks recognised cronus in the carthaginian god to whom children were offered up. hartung { c} takes cronus, when he mutilates uranus, to be the fire of the sun, scorching the sky of spring. this, again, is somewhat out of accord with schwartz's idea, that cronus is the storm-god, the cloud-swallowing deity, his sickle the rainbow, and the blood of uranus the lightning. { d} according to prof. sayce, again, { a} the blood- drops of uranus are rain-drops. cronus is the sun-god, piercing the dark cloud, which is just the reverse of schwartz's idea. prof. sayce sees points in common between the legend of moloch, or of baal under the name of moloch, and the myth of cronus. but moloch, he thinks, is not a god of phoenician origin, but a deity borrowed from 'the primitive accadian population of babylonia.' mr. isaac taylor, again, explains cronus as the sky which swallows and reproduces the stars. the story of the sickle may be derived from the crescent moon, the 'silver sickle,' or from a crescent-shaped piece of meteoric iron--for, in this theory, the fetich- stone of delphi is a piece of that substance. * * * * * it will be observed that any one of these theories, if accepted, is much more 'minute in detail' than our humble suggestion. he who adopts any one of them, knows all about it. he knows that cronus is a purely greek god, or that he is connected with the sanskrit krana, which tiele, { b} unhappily, says is 'a very dubious word.' or the mythologist may be quite confident that cronus is neither greek nor, in any sense, sanskrit, but phoenician. a not less adequate interpretation assigns him ultimately to accadia. while the inquirer who can choose a system and stick to it knows the exact nationality of cronus, he is also well acquainted with his character as a nature-god. he may be time, or perhaps he is the summer heat, and a horned god; or he is the harvest- god, or the god of storm and darkness, or the midnight sky,--the choice is wide; or he is the lord of dark and light, and his children are the stars, the clouds, the summer months, the light-powers, or what you will. the mythologist has only to make his selection. the system according to which we tried to interpret the myth is less ondoyant et divers. we do not even pretend to explain everything. we do not guess at the meaning and root of the word cronus. we only find parallels to the myth among savages, whose mental condition is fertile in such legends. and we only infer that the myth of cronus was originally evolved by persons also in the savage intellectual condition. the survival we explain as, in a previous essay, we explained the survival of the bull-roarer by the conservatism of the religious instinct. cupid, psyche, and the 'sun-frog.' 'once upon a time there lived a king and a queen,' says the old woman in apuleius, beginning the tale of cupid and psyche with that ancient formula which has been dear to so many generations of children. in one shape or other the tale of cupid and psyche, of the woman who is forbidden to see or to name her husband, of the man with the vanished fairy bride, is known in most lands, 'even among barbarians.' according to the story the mystic prohibition is always broken: the hidden face is beheld; light is brought into the darkness; the forbidden name is uttered; the bride is touched with the tabooed metal, iron, and the union is ended. sometimes the pair are re-united, after long searchings and wanderings; sometimes they are severed for ever. such are the central situations in tales like that of cupid and psyche. in the attempt to discover how the ideas on which this myth is based came into existence, we may choose one of two methods. we may confine our investigations to the aryan peoples, among whom the story occurs both in the form of myth and of household tale. again, we may look for the shapes of the legend which hide, like peau d'ane in disguise, among the rude kraals and wigwams, and in the strange and scanty garb of savages. if among savages we find both narratives like cupid and psyche, and also customs and laws out of which the myth might have arisen, we may provisionally conclude that similar customs once existed among the civilised races who possess the tale, and that from these sprang the early forms of the myth. in accordance with the method hitherto adopted, we shall prefer the second plan, and pursue our quest beyond the limits of the aryan peoples. the oldest literary shape of the tale of psyche and her lover is found in the rig veda (x. ). the characters of a singular and cynical dialogue in that poem are named urvasi and pururavas. the former is an apsaras, a kind of fairy or sylph, the mistress (and a folle maitresse, too) of pururavas, a mortal man. { } in the poem urvasi remarks that when she dwelt among men she 'ate once a day a small piece of butter, and therewith well satisfied went away.' this slightly reminds one of the common idea that the living may not eat in the land of the dead, and of persephone's tasting the pomegranate in hades. of the dialogue in the rig veda it may be said, in the words of mr. toots, that 'the language is coarse and the meaning is obscure.' we only gather that urvasi, though she admits her sensual content in the society of pururavas, is leaving him 'like the first of the dawns'; that she 'goes home again, hard to be caught, like the winds.' she gives her lover some hope, however--that the gods promise immortality even to him, 'the kinsman of death' as he is. 'let thine offspring worship the gods with an oblation; in heaven shalt thou too have joy of the festival.' in the rig veda, then, we dimly discern a parting between a mortal man and an immortal bride, and a promise of reconciliation. the story, of which this vedic poem is a partial dramatisation, is given in the brahmana of the yajur veda. mr. max muller has translated the passage. { a} according to the brahmana, 'urvasi, a kind of fairy, fell in love with pururavas, and when she met him she said: embrace me three times a day, but never against my will, and let me never see you without your royal garments, _for this is the manner of women_.' { b} the gandharvas, a spiritual race, kinsmen of urvasi, thought she had lingered too long among men. they therefore plotted some way of parting her from pururavas. her covenant with her lord declared that she was never to see him naked. if that compact were broken she would be compelled to leave him. to make pururavas break this compact the gandharvas stole a lamb from beside urvasi's bed: pururavas sprang up to rescue the lamb, and, in a flash of lightning, urvasi saw him naked, contrary to the _manner of women_. she vanished. he sought her long, and at last came to a lake where she and her fairy friends were playing _in the shape of birds_. urvasi saw pururavas, revealed herself to him, and, according to the brahmana, part of the strange vedic dialogue was now spoken. urvasi promised to meet him on the last night of the year: a son was to be the result of the interview. next day, her kinsfolk, the gandharvas, offered pururavas the wish of his heart. he wished to be one of them. they then initiated him into the mode of kindling a certain sacred fire, after which he became immortal and dwelt among the gandharvas. it is highly characteristic of the indian mind that the story should be thus worked into connection with ritual. in the same way the bhagavata purana has a long, silly, and rather obscene narrative about the sacrifice offered by pururavas, and the new kind of sacred fire. much the same ritual tale is found in the vishnu purana (iv. , ). before attempting to offer our own theory of the legend, we must examine the explanations presented by scholars. the philological method of dealing with myths is well known. the hypothesis is that the names in a myth are 'stubborn things,' and that, as the whole narrative has probably arisen from forgetfulness of the meaning of language, the secret of a myth must be sought in analysis of the proper names of the persons. on this principle mr. max muller interprets the myth of urvasi and pururavas, their loves, separation, and reunion. mr. muller says that the story 'expresses the identity of the morning dawn and the evening twilight.' { } to prove this, the names are analysed. it is mr. muller's object to show that though, even in the veda, urvasi and pururavas are names of persons, they were originally 'appellations'; and that urvasi meant 'dawn,' and pururavas 'sun.' mr. muller's opinion as to the etymological sense of the names would be thought decisive, naturally, by lay readers, if an opposite opinion were not held by that other great philologist and comparative mythologist, adalbert kuhn. admitting that 'the etymology of urvasi is difficult,' mr. muller derives it from 'uru, wide ([greek]), and a root as = to pervade.' now the dawn is 'widely pervading,' and has, in sanskrit, the epithet uruki, 'far-going.' mr. muller next assumes that 'eurykyde,' 'eurynome,' 'eurydike,' and other heroic greek female names, are 'names of the dawn'; but this, it must be said, is merely an assumption of his school. the main point of the argument is that urvasi means 'far-going,' and that 'the far and wide splendour of dawn' is often spoken of in the veda. 'however, the best proof that urvasi was the dawn is the legend told of her and of her love to pururavas, a story that is true only of the sun and the dawn' (i. ). we shall presently see that a similar story is told of persons in whom the dawn can scarcely be recognised, so that 'the best proof' is not very good. the name of pururavas, again, is 'an appropriate name for a solar hero.' . . . pururavas meant the same as [greek], 'endowed with much light,' for, though rava is generally used of sound, yet the root ru, which means originally 'to cry,' is also applied to colour, in the sense of a loud or crying colour, that is, red. { a} violet also, according to sir g. w. cox, { b} is a loud or crying colour. 'the word ([greek]), as applied to colour, is traced by professor max muller to the root i, as denoting a "crying hue," that is, a loud colour.' it is interesting to learn that our aryan fathers spoke of 'loud colours,' and were so sensitive as to think violet 'loud.' besides, pururavas calls himself vasistha, which, as we know, is a name of the sun; and if he is called aido, the son of ida, the same name is elsewhere given { c} to agni, the fire. 'the conclusion of the argument is that antiquity spoke of the naked sun, and of the chaste dawn hiding her face when she had seen her husband. yet she says she will come again. and after the sun has travelled through the world in search of his beloved, when he comes to the threshold of death and is going to end his solitary life, she appears again, in the gloaming, the same as the dawn, as eos in homer, begins and ends the day, and she carries him away to the golden seats of the immortals.' { d} kuhn objects to all this explanation, partly on what we think the inadequate ground that there is no necessary connection between the story of urvasi (thus interpreted) and the ritual of sacred fire-lighting. connections of that sort were easily invented at random by the compilers of the brahmanas in their existing form. coming to the analysis of names, kuhn finds in urvasi 'a weakening of urvanki (uru + anc), like yuvaca from yuvanka, latin juvencus . . . the accent is of no decisive weight.' kuhn will not be convinced that pururavas is the sun, and is unmoved by the ingenious theory of 'a crying colour,' denoted by his name, and the inference, supported by such words as rufus, that crying colours are red, and therefore appropriate names of the red sun. the connection between pururavas and agni, fire, is what appeals to kuhn--and, in short, where mr. muller sees a myth of sun and dawn, kuhn recognises a fire-myth. roth, again (whose own name means _red_), far from thinking that urvasi is 'the chaste dawn,' interprets her name as die geile, that is, 'lecherous, lascivious, lewd, wanton, obscene'; while pururavas, as 'the roarer,' suggests 'the bull in rut.' in accordance with these views roth explains the myth in a fashion of his own. { a} here, then, as kuhn says, 'we have three essentially different modes of interpreting the myth,' { b} all three founded on philological analysis of the names in the story. no better example could be given to illustrate the weakness of the philological method. in the first place, that method relies on names as the primitive relics and germs of the tale, although the tale may occur where the names have never been heard, and though the names are, presumably, late additions to a story in which the characters were originally anonymous. again, the most illustrious etymologists differ absolutely about the true sense of the names. kuhn sees fire everywhere, and fire-myths; mr. muller sees dawn and dawn-myths; schwartz sees storm and storm-myths, and so on. as the orthodox teachers are thus at variance, so that there is no safety in orthodoxy, we may attempt to use our heterodox method. none of the three scholars whose views we have glanced at--neither roth, kuhn, nor mr. muller--lays stress on the saying of urvasi, 'never let me see you without your royal garments, _for this is the custom of women_.' { } to our mind, these words contain the gist of the myth. there must have been, at some time, a custom which forbade women to see their husbands without their garments, or the words have no meaning. if any custom of this kind existed, a story might well be evolved to give a sanction to the law. 'you must never see your husband naked: think what happened to urvasi--she vanished clean away!' this is the kind of warning which might be given. if the customary prohibition had grown obsolete, the punishment might well be assigned to a being of another, a spiritual, race, in which old human ideas lingered, as the neolithic dread of iron lingers in the welsh fairies. our method will be, to prove the existence of singular rules of etiquette, corresponding to the etiquette accidentally infringed by pururavas. we shall then investigate stories of the same character as that of urvasi and pururavas, in which the infringement of the etiquette is chastised. it will be seen that, in most cases, the bride is of a peculiar and perhaps supernatural race. finally, the tale of urvasi will be taken up again, will be shown to conform in character to the other stories examined, and will be explained as a myth told to illustrate, or sanction, a nuptial etiquette. the lives of savages are bound by the most closely-woven fetters of custom. the simplest acts are 'tabooed,' a strict code regulates all intercourse. married life, especially, moves in the strangest fetters. there will be nothing remarkable in the wide distribution of a myth turning on nuptial etiquette, if this law of nuptial etiquette proves to be also widely distributed. that it is widely distributed we now propose to demonstrate by examples. the custom of the african people of the kingdom of futa is, or was, even stricter than the vedic _custom of women_--'wives never permit their husbands to see them unveiled for three years after their marriage.' { } in his 'travels to timbuctoo' (i. ), caillie says that the bridegroom 'is not allowed to see his intended during the day.' he has a tabooed hut apart, and 'if he is obliged to come out he covers his face.' he 'remains with his wife only till daybreak'--like cupid--and flees, like cupid, before the light. among the australians the chief deity, if deity such a being can be called, pundjel, 'has a wife whose face he has never seen,' probably in compliance with some primaeval etiquette or taboo. { a} among the yorubas 'conventional modesty forbids a woman to speak to her husband, or even to see him, if it can be avoided.' { b} of the iroquois lafitau says: 'ils n'osent aller dans les cabanes particulieres ou habitent leurs epouses que durant l'obscurite de la nuit.' { c} the circassian women live on distant terms with their lords till they become mothers. { d} similar examples of reserve are reported to be customary among the fijians. in backward parts of europe a strange custom forbids the bride to speak to her lord, as if in memory of a time when husband and wife were always of alien tribes, and, as among the caribs, spoke different languages. in the bulgarian 'volkslied,' the sun marries grozdanka, a mortal girl. her mother addresses her thus:-- grozdanka, mother's treasure mine, for nine long years i nourished thee, for nine months see thou do not speak to thy first love that marries thee. m. dozon, who has collected the bulgarian songs, says that this custom of prolonged silence on the part of the bride is very common in bulgaria, though it is beginning to yield to a sense of the ludicrous. { a} in sparta and in crete, as is well known, the bridegroom was long the victim of a somewhat similar taboo, and was only permitted to seek the company of his wife secretly, and in the dark, like the iroquois described by lafitau. herodotus tells us (i. ) that some of the old ionian colonists 'brought no women with them, but took wives of the women of the carians, whose fathers they had slain. therefore the women made a law for themselves, and handed it down to their daughters, that they should never sit at meat with their husbands, and _that none should ever call her husband by his name_.' in precisely the same way, in zululand the wife may not mention her husband's name, just as in the welsh fairy tale the husband may not even know the name of his fairy bride, on pain of losing her for ever. these ideas about names, and freakish ways of avoiding the use of names, mark the childhood of languages, according to mr. max muller, { b} and, therefore, the childhood of society. the kaffirs call this etiquette 'hlonipa.' it applies to women as well as men. a kaffir bride is not called by her own name in her husband's village, but is spoken of as 'mother of so and so,' even before she has borne a child. the universal superstition about names is at the bottom of this custom. the aleutian islanders, according to dall, are quite distressed when obliged to speak to their wives in the presence of others. the fijians did not know where to look when missionaries hinted that a man might live under the same roof as his wife. { a} among the turkomans, for six months, a year, or two years, a husband is only allowed to visit his wife by stealth. the number of these instances could probably be increased by a little research. our argument is that the widely distributed myths in which a husband or a wife transgresses some 'custom'--sees the other's face or body, or utters the forbidden name--might well have arisen as tales illustrating the punishment of breaking the rule. by a very curious coincidence, a breton sailor's tale of the 'cupid and psyche' class is confessedly founded on the existence of the rule of nuptial etiquette. { b} in this story the son of a boulogne pilot marries the daughter of the king of naz--wherever that may be. in naz a man is never allowed to see the face of his wife till she has borne him a child--a modification of the futa rule. the inquisitive french husband unveils his wife, and, like psyche in apuleius, drops wax from a candle on her cheek. when the pair return to naz, the king of that country discovers the offence of the husband, and, by the aid of his magicians, transforms the frenchman into a monster. here we have the old formula--the infringement of a 'taboo,' and the magical punishment--adapted to the ideas of breton peasantry. the essential point of the story, for our purpose, is that the veiling of the bride is 'the custom of women,' in the mysterious land of naz. 'c'est l'usage du pays: les maris ne voient leurs femmes sans voile que lorsqu'elles sont devenues meres.' now our theory of the myth of urvasi is simply this: 'the custom of women,' which pururavas transgresses, is probably a traditional aryan law of nuptial etiquette, l'usage du pays, once prevalent among the people of india. if our view be correct, then several rules of etiquette, and not one alone, will be illustrated in the stories which we suppose the rules to have suggested. in the case of urvasi and pururavas, the rule was, not to see the husband naked. in 'cupid and psyche,' the husband was not to be looked upon at all. in the well-known myth of melusine, the bride is not to be seen naked. melusine tells her lover that she will only abide with him dum ipsam nudam non viderit. { a} the same taboo occurs in a dutch marchen. { b} we have now to examine a singular form of the myth, in which the strange bride is not a fairy, or spiritual being, but an animal. in this class of story the husband is usually forbidden to perform some act which will recall to the bride the associations of her old animal existence. the converse of the tale is the well-known legend of the forsaken merman. the king of the sea permits his human wife to go to church. the ancient sacred associations are revived, and the woman returns no more. she will not come though you call all day come away, come away. now, in the tales of the animal bride, it is her associations with her former life among the beasts that are not to be revived, and when they are reawakened by the commission of some act which she has forbidden, or the neglect of some precaution which she has enjoined, she, like urvasi, disappears. * * * * * the best known example of this variant of the tale is the story of bheki, in sanskrit. mr. max muller has interpreted the myth in accordance with his own method. { } his difficulty is to account for the belief that a king might marry a frog. our ancestors, he remarks, 'were not idiots,' how then could they tell such a story? we might reply that our ancestors, if we go far enough back, were savages, and that such stories are the staple of savage myth. mr. muller, however, holds that an accidental corruption of language reduced aryan fancy to the savage level. he explains the corruption thus: 'we find, in sanskrit, that bheki, the frog, was a beautiful girl, and that one day, when sitting near a well, she was discovered by a king, who asked her to be his wife. she consented, _on condition that he should never show her a drop of water_. one day, being tired, she asked the king for water; the king forgot his promise, brought water, and bheki disappeared.' this myth, mr. muller holds, 'began with a short saying, such as that "bheki, the sun, will die at the sight of water," as we should say that the sun will set, when it approaches the water from which it rose in the morning.' but how did the sun come to be called bheki, 'the frog'? mr. muller supposes that this name was given to the sun by some poet or fisherman. he gives no evidence for the following statement: 'it can be shown that "frog" was used as a name for the sun. now at sunrise and sunset, when the sun was squatting on the water, it was called the "frog."' at what historical period the sanskrit-speaking race was settled in seats where the sun rose and set in water, we do not know, and 'chapter and verse' are needed for the statement that 'frog' was actually a name of the sun. mr. muller's argument, however, is that the sun was called 'the frog,' that people forgot that the frog and sun were identical, and that frog, or bheki, was mistaken for the name of a girl to whom was applied the old saw about dying at sight of water. 'and so,' says mr. muller, 'the change from sun to frog, and from frog to man, which was at first due to the mere spell of language, would in our nursery tales be ascribed to miraculous charms more familiar to a later age.' as a matter of fact, magical metamorphoses are infinitely more familiar to the lowest savages than to people in a 'later age.' magic, as castren observes, 'belongs to the lowest known stages of civilisation.' mr. muller's theory, however, is this--that a sanskrit-speaking people, living where the sun rose out of and set in some ocean, called the sun, as he touched the water, bheki, the frog, and said he would die at the sight of water. they ceased to call the sun the frog, or bheki, but kept the saying, 'bheki will die at sight of water.' not knowing who or what bheki might be, they took her for a frog, who also was a pretty wench. lastly, they made the story of bheki's distinguished wedding and mysterious disappearance. for this interpretation, historical and linguistic evidence is not offered. when did a sanskrit-speaking race live beside a great sea? how do we know that 'frog' was used as a name for 'sun'? * * * * * we have already given our explanation. to the savage intellect, man and beast are on a level, and all savage myth makes men descended from beasts; while stories of the loves of gods in bestial shape, or the unions of men and animals, incessantly occur. 'unnatural' as these notions seem to us, no ideas are more familiar to savages, and none recur more frequently in indo-aryan, scandinavian, and greek mythology. an extant tribe in north-west america still claims descent from a frog. the wedding of bheki and the king is a survival, in sanskrit, of a tale of this kind. lastly, bheki disappears, when her associations with her old amphibious life are revived in the manner she had expressly forbidden. * * * * * our interpretation may be supported by an ojibway parallel. a hunter named otter-heart, camping near a beaver lodge, found a pretty girl loitering round his fire. she keeps his wigwam in order, and 'lays his blanket near the deerskin she had laid for herself. "good," he muttered, "this is my wife."' she refuses to eat the beavers he has shot, but at night he hears a noise, 'krch, krch, as if beavers were gnawing wood.' he sees, by the glimmer of the fire, his wife nibbling birch twigs. in fact, the good little wife is a beaver, as the pretty indian girl was a frog. the pair lived happily till spring came and the snow melted and the streams ran full. then his wife implored the hunter to build her a bridge over every stream and river, that she might cross dry-footed. 'for,' she said, 'if my feet touch water, this would at once cause thee great sorrow.' the hunter did as she bade him, but left unbridged one tiny runnel. the wife stumbled into the water, and, as soon as her foot was wet, she immediately resumed her old shape as a beaver, her son became a beaverling, and the brooklet, changing to a roaring river, bore them to the lake. once the hunter saw his wife again among her beast kin. 'to thee i sacrificed all,' she said, 'and i only asked thee to help me dry-footed over the waters. thou didst cruelly neglect this. now i must remain for ever with my people.' * * * * * this tale was told to kohl by 'an old insignificant squaw among the ojibways.' { a} here we have a precise parallel to the tale of bheki, the frog-bride, and here the reason of the prohibition to touch water is made perfectly unmistakable. the touch magically revived the bride's old animal life with the beavers. or was the indian name for beaver (temakse) once a name for the sun? { b} a curious variant of this widely distributed marchen of the animal bride is found in the mythical genealogy of the raja of chutia nagpur, a chief of the naga, or snake race. it is said that raja janameja prepared a yajnya, or great malevolently magical incantation, to destroy all the people of the serpent race. to prevent this annihilation, the supernatural being, pundarika nag, took a human form, and became the husband of the beautiful parvati, daughter of a brahman. but pundarika nag, being a serpent by nature, could not divest himself, even in human shape, of his forked tongue and venomed breath. and, just as urvasi could not abide with her mortal lover, after he transgressed the prohibition to appear before her naked, so pundarika nag was compelled by fate to leave his bride, if she asked him any questions about his disagreeable peculiarities. she did, at last, ask questions, in circumstances which made pundarika believe that he was bound to answer her. now the curse came upon him, he plunged into a pool, like the beaver, and vanished. his wife became the mother of the serpent rajas of chutia nagpur. pundarika nag, in his proper form as a great hooded snake, guarded his first-born child. the crest of the house is a hooded snake with human face. { a} here, then, we have many examples of the disappearance of the bride or bridegroom in consequence of infringement of various mystic rules. sometimes the beloved one is seen when he or she should not be seen. sometimes, as in a maori story, the bride vanishes, merely because she is in a bad temper. { b} among the red men, as in sanskrit, the taboo on water is broken, with the usual results. now for an example in which the rule against using _names_ is infringed. { a} this formula constantly occurs in the welsh fairy tales published by professor rhys. { b} thus the heir of corwrion fell in love with a fairy: 'they were married on the distinct understanding that the husband was not to know her name, . . . and was not to strike her with iron, on pain of her leaving him at once.' unluckily the man once tossed her a bridle, the iron bit touched the wife, and 'she at once flew through the air, and plunged headlong into corwrion lake.' a number of tales turning on the same incident are published in 'cymmrodor,' v. i. in these we have either the taboo on the name, or the taboo on the touch of iron. in a widely diffused superstition iron 'drives away devils and ghosts,' according to the scholiast on the eleventh book of the 'odyssey,' and the oriental djinn also flee from iron. { c} just as water is fatal to the aryan frog-bride and to the red indian beaver-wife, restoring them to their old animal forms, so the magic touch of iron breaks love between the welshman and his fairy mistress, the representative of the stone age. in many tales of fairy-brides, they are won by a kind of force. the lover in the familiar welsh and german marchen sees the swan-maidens throw off their swan plumage and dance naked.. he steals the feather- garb of one of them, and so compels her to his love. finally, she leaves him, in anger, or because he has broken some taboo. far from being peculiar to aryan mythology, this legend occurs, as mr. farrer has shown, { a} in algonquin and bornoese tradition. the red indian story told by schoolcraft in his 'algic researches' is most like the aryan version, but has some native peculiarities. wampee was a great hunter, who, on the lonely prairie, once heard strains of music. looking up he saw a speck in the sky: the speck drew nearer and nearer, and proved to be a basket containing twelve heavenly maidens. they reached the earth and began to dance, inflaming the heart of wampee with love. but wampee could not draw near the fairy girls in his proper form without alarming them. like zeus in his love adventures, wampee exercised the medicine-man's power of metamorphosing himself. he assumed the form of a mouse, approached unobserved, and caught one of the dancing maidens. after living with wampee for some time she wearied of earth, and, by virtue of a 'mystic chain of verse,' she ascended again to her heavenly home. now is there any reason to believe that this incident was once part of the myth of pururavas and urvasi? was the fairy-love, urvasi, originally caught and held by pururavas among her naked and struggling companions? though this does not appear to have been much noticed, it seems to follow from a speech of pururavas in the vedic dialogue { b} (x. , , ). mr. max muller translates thus: 'when i, the mortal, threw my arms round those flighty immortals, they trembled away from me like a trembling doe, like horses that kick against the cart.' { a} ludwig's rendering suits our view--that pururavas is telling how he first caught urvasi--still better: 'when i, the mortal, held converse with the immortals who had laid aside their raiment, like slippery serpents they glided from me, like horses yoked to the car.' these words would well express the adventure of a lover among the naked flying swan-maidens, an adventure familiar to the red men as to persian legends of the peris. to end our comparison of myths like the tale of 'cupid and psyche,' we find an example among the zulus. here { b} the mystic lover came in when all was dark, and felt the damsel's face. after certain rites, 'in the morning he went away, he speaking continually, the girl not seeing him. during all those days he would not allow the girl (sic), when she said she would light a fire. finally, after a magical ceremony, he said, "light the fire!" and stood before her revealed, a shining shape.' this has a curious resemblance to the myth of cupid and psyche; but a more curious detail remains. in the zulu story of ukcombekcansini, the friends of a bride break a taboo and kill a tabooed animal. instantly, like urvasi and her companions in the yajur veda, the bride and her maidens disappear _and are turned into birds_! { c} they are afterwards surprised in human shape, and the bride is restored to her lover. here we conclude, having traced parallels to cupid and psyche in many non- aryan lands. our theory of the myth does not rest on etymology. we have seen that the most renowned scholars, max muller, kuhn, roth, all analyse the names urvasi and pururavas in different ways, and extract different interpretations. we have found the story where these names were probably never heard of. we interpret it as a tale of the intercourse between mortal men and immortal maids, or between men and metamorphosed animals, as in india and north america. we explain the separation of the lovers as the result of breaking a taboo, or law of etiquette, binding among men and women, as well as between men and fairies. * * * * * the taboos are, to see the beloved unveiled, to utter his or her name, to touch her with a metal 'terrible to ghosts and spirits,' or to do some action which will revive the associations of a former life. we have shown that rules of nuptial etiquette resembling these in character do exist, and have existed, even among greeks--as where the milesian, like the zulu, women made a law not to utter their husbands' names. finally, we think it a reasonable hypothesis that tales on the pattern of 'cupid and psyche' might have been evolved wherever a curious nuptial taboo required to be sanctioned, or explained, by a myth. on this hypothesis, the stories may have been separately invented in different lands; but there is also a chance that they have been transmitted from people to people in the unknown past of our scattered and wandering race. this theory seems at least as probable as the hypothesis that the meaning of an aryan proverbial statement about sun and dawn was forgotten, and was altered unconsciously into a tale which is found among various non-aryan tribes. that hypothesis again, learned and ingenious as it is, has the misfortune to be opposed by other scholarly hypotheses not less ingenious and learned. * * * * * as for the sun-frog, we may hope that he has sunk for ever beneath the western wave. a far-travelled tale. a modern novelist has boasted that her books are read 'from tobolsk to tangiers.' this is a wide circulation, but the widest circulation in the world has probably been achieved by a story whose author, unlike ouida, will never be known to fame. the tale which we are about to examine is, perhaps, of all myths the most widely diffused, yet there is no ready way of accounting for its extraordinary popularity. any true 'nature-myth,' any myth which accounts for the processes of nature or the aspects of natural phenomena, may conceivably have been invented separately, wherever men in an early state of thought observed the same facts, and attempted to explain them by telling a story. thus we have seen that the earlier part of the myth of cronus is a nature-myth, setting forth the cause of the separation of heaven and earth. star-myths again, are everywhere similar, because men who believed all nature to be animated and personal, accounted for the grouping of constellations in accordance with these crude beliefs. { } once more, if a story like that of 'cupid and psyche' be found among the most diverse races, the distribution becomes intelligible if the myth was invented to illustrate or enforce a widely prevalent custom. but in the following story no such explanation is even provisionally acceptable. the gist of the tale (which has many different 'openings,' and conclusions in different places) may be stated thus: a young man is brought to the home of a hostile animal, a giant, cannibal, wizard, or a malevolent king. he is put by his unfriendly host to various severe trials, in which it is hoped that he will perish. in each trial he is assisted by the daughter of his host. after achieving the adventures, he elopes with the girl, and is pursued by her father. the runaway pair throw various common objects behind them, which are changed into magical obstacles and check the pursuit of the father. the myth has various endings, usually happy, in various places. another form of the narrative is known, in which the visitors to the home of the hostile being are, not wooers of his daughter, but brothers of his wife. { } the incidents of the flight, in this variant, are still of the same character. finally, when the flight is that of a brother from his sister's malevolent ghost, in hades (japan), or of two sisters from a cannibal mother or step-mother (zulu and samoyed), the events of the flight and the magical aids to escape remain little altered. we shall afterwards see that attempts have been made to interpret one of these narratives as a nature-myth; but the attempts seem unsuccessful. we are therefore at a loss to account for the wide diffusion of this tale, unless it has been transmitted slowly from people to people, in the immense unknown prehistoric past of the human race. * * * * * before comparing the various forms of the myth in its first shape--that which tells of the mortal lover and the giant's or wizard's daughter--let us give the scottish version of the story. this version was written down for me, many years ago, by an aged lady in morayshire. i published it in the 'revue celtique'; but it is probably new to story-comparers, in its broad scotch variant. nicht nought nothing. there once lived a king and a queen. they were long married and had no bairns; but at last the queen had a bairn, when the king was away in far countries. the queen would not christen the bairn till the king came back, and she said, 'we will just call him nicht nought nothing until his father comes home.' but it was long before he came home, and the boy had grown a nice little laddie. at length the king was on his way back; but he had a big river to cross, and there was a spate, and he could not get over the water. but a giant came up to him, and said, 'if you will give me nicht nought nothing, i will carry you over the water on my back.' the king had never heard that his son was called nicht nought nothing, and so he promised him. when the king got home again, he was very happy to see his wife again, and his young son. she told him that she had not given the child any name but nicht nought nothing, until he should come home again himself. the poor king was in a terrible case. he said, 'what have i done? i promised to give the giant who carried me over the river on his back, nicht nought nothing.' the king and the queen were sad and sorry, but they said, 'when the giant comes we will give him the hen-wife's bairn; he will never know the difference.' the next day the giant came to claim the king's promise, and he sent for the hen-wife's bairn; and the giant went away with the bairn on his back. he travelled till he came to a big stone, and there he sat down to rest. he said, 'hidge, hodge, on my back, what time of day is it?' the poor little bairn said, 'it is the time that my mother, the hen-wife, takes up the eggs for the queen's breakfast.' the giant was very angry, and dashed the bairn on the stone and killed it. . . . . . the same adventure is repeated with the gardener's son. . . . . . then the giant went back to the king's house, and said he would destroy them all if they did not give him nicht nought nothing this time. they had to do it; and when he came to the big stone, the giant said, 'what time of day is it?' nicht nought nothing said, 'it is the time that my father the king will be sitting down to supper.' the giant said, 'i've got the richt ane noo;' and took nicht nought nothing to his own house and brought him up till he was a man. the giant had a bonny dochter, and she and the lad grew very fond of each other. the giant said one day to nicht nought nothing, 'i've work for you to-morrow. there is a stable seven miles long and seven miles broad, and it has not been cleaned for seven years, and you must clean it to-morrow, or i will have you for my supper.' the giant's dochter went out next morning with the lad's breakfast, and found him in a terrible state, for aye as he cleaned out a bit, it aye fell in again. the giant's dochter said she would help him, and she cried a' the beasts of the field, and a' the fowls o' the air, and in a minute they a' came, and carried awa' everything that was in the stable and made a' clean before the giant came home. he said, 'shame for the wit that helped you; but i have a worse job for you to-morrow.' then he told nicht nought nothing that there was a loch seven miles long, and seven miles deep, and seven miles broad, and he must drain it the next day, or else he would have him for his supper. nicht nought nothing began early next morning and tried to lave the water with his pail, but the loch was never getting any less, and he did no ken what to do; but the giant's dochter called on all the fish in the sea to come and drink the water, and very soon they drank it dry. when the giant saw the work done he was in a rage, and said, 'i've a worse job for you to-morrow; there is a tree seven miles high, and no branch on it, till you get to the top, and there is a nest, and you must bring down the eggs without breaking one, or else i will have you for my supper.' at first the giant's dochter did not know how to help nicht nought nothing; but she cut off first her fingers and then her toes, and made steps of them, and he clomb the tree, and got all the eggs safe till he came to the bottom, and then one was broken. the giant's dochter advised him to run away, and she would follow him. so he travelled till he came to a king's palace, and the king and queen took him in and were very kind to him. the giant's dochter left her father's house, and he pursued her and was drowned. then she came to the king's palace where nicht nought nothing was. and she went up into a tree to watch for him. the gardener's dochter, going to draw water in the well, saw the shadow of the lady in the water, and thought it was herself, and said, 'if i'm so bonny, if i'm so brave, do you send me to draw water?' the gardener's wife went out, and she said the same thing. then the gardener went himself, and brought the lady from the tree, and led her in. and he told her that a stranger was to marry the king's dochter, and showed her the man: and it was nicht nought nothing asleep in a chair. and she saw him, and cried to him, 'waken, waken, and speak to me!' but he would not waken, and syne she cried, 'i cleaned the stable, i laved the loch, and i clamb the tree, and all for the love of thee, and thou wilt not waken and speak to me.' the king and the queen heard this, and came to the bonny young lady, and she said, 'i canna get nicht nought nothing to speak to me for all that i can do.' then were they greatly astonished when she spoke of nicht nought nothing, and asked where he was, and she said, 'he that sits there in the chair.' then they ran to him and kissed him and called him their own dear son, and he wakened, and told them all that the giant's dochter had done for him, and of all her kindness. then they took her in their arms and kissed her, and said she should now be their dochter, for their son should marry her. and they lived happy all their days. in this variant of the story, which we may use as our text, it is to be noticed that a lacuna exists. the narrative of the flight omits to mention that the runaways threw things behind them which became obstacles in the giant's way. one of these objects probably turned into a lake, in which the giant was drowned. { } a common incident is the throwing behind of a comb, which changes into a thicket. the formula of leaving obstacles behind occurs in the indian collection, the 'kathasarit sagara' (vii. xxxix.). the 'battle of the birds,' in campbell's 'tales of the west highlands,' is a very copious gaelic variant. russian parallels are 'vasilissa the wise and the water king,' and 'the king bear.' { a} the incident of the flight and the magical obstacles is found in japanese mythology. { b} the 'ugly woman of hades' is sent to pursue the hero. he casts down his black head-dress, and it is instantly turned into grapes; he fled while she was eating them. again, 'he cast down his multitudinous and close-toothed comb, and it instantly turned into bamboo sprouts.' in the gaelic version, the pursuer is detained by talkative objects which the pursued leave at home, and this marvel recurs in zululand, and is found among the bushmen. the zulu versions are numerous. { c} oddly enough, in the last variant, the girl performs no magic feat, but merely throws sesamum on the ground to delay the cannibals, for cannibals are very fond of sesamum. { d} * * * * * here, then, we have the remarkable details of the flight, in zulu, gaelic, norse, malagasy, { e} russian, italian, japanese. of all incidents in the myth, the incidents of the flight are most widely known. but the whole connected series of events--the coming of the wooer; the love of the hostile being's daughter; the tasks imposed on the wooer; the aid rendered by the daughter; the flight of the pair; the defeat or destruction of the hostile being--all these, or most of these, are extant, in due sequence, among the following races. the greeks have the tale, the people of madagascar have it, the lowland scotch, the celts, the russians, the italians, the algonquins, the finns, and the samoans have it. now if the story were confined to the aryan race, we might account for its diffusion, by supposing it to be the common heritage of the indo-european peoples, carried everywhere with them in their wanderings. but when the tale is found in madagascar, north america, samoa, and among the finns, while many scattered incidents occur in even more widely severed races, such as zulus, bushmen, japanese, eskimo, samoyeds, the aryan hypothesis becomes inadequate. to show how closely, all things considered, the aryan and non-aryan possessors of the tale agree, let us first examine the myth of jason. * * * * * the earliest literary reference to the myth of jason is in the 'iliad' (vii. , xxiii. ). here we read of euneos, a son whom hypsipyle bore to jason in lemnos. already, even in the 'iliad,' the legend of argo's voyage has been fitted into certain well-known geographical localities. a reference in the 'odyssey' (xii. ) has a more antique ring: we are told that of all barques argo alone escaped the jaws of the rocks wandering, which clashed together and destroyed ships. argo escaped, it is said, 'because jason was dear to hera.' it is plain, from various fragmentary notices, that hesiod was familiar with several of the adventures in the legend of jason. in the 'theogony' ( - ) hesiod mentions the essential facts of the legend: how jason carried off from aeetes his daughter, 'after achieving the adventures, many and grievous,' which were laid upon him. at what period the home of aeetes was placed in colchis, it is not easy to determine. mimnermus, a contemporary of solon, makes the home of aeetes lie 'on the brink of ocean,' a very vague description. { } pindar, on the other hand, in the splendid fourth pythian ode, already knows colchis as the scene of the loves and flight of jason and medea. * * * * 'long were it for me to go by the beaten track,' says pindar, 'and i know a certain short path.' like pindar, we may abridge the tale of jason. he seeks the golden fleece in colchis: aeetes offers it to him as a prize for success in certain labours. by the aid of medea, the daughter of aeetes, the wizard-king, jason tames the fire-breathing oxen, yokes them to the plough, and drives a furrow. by medea's help he conquers the children of the teeth of the dragon, subdues the snake that guards the fleece of gold, and escapes, but is pursued by aeetes. to detain aeetes, medea throws behind the mangled remains of her own brother, apsyrtos, and the colchians pursue no further than the scene of this bloody deed. the savagery of this act survives even in the work of a poet so late as apollonius rhodius (iv. ), where we read how jason performed a rite of savage magic, mutilating the body of apsyrtos in a manner which was believed to appease the avenging ghost of the slain. 'thrice he tasted the blood, thrice spat it out between his teeth,' a passage which the scholiast says contains the description of an archaic custom popular among murderers. beyond tomi, where a popular etymology fixed the 'cutting up' of apsyrtos, we need not follow the fortunes of jason and medea. we have already seen the wooer come to the hostile being, win his daughter's love, achieve the adventures by her aid, and flee in her company, delaying, by a horrible device, the advance of the pursuers. to these incidents in the tale we confine our attention. many explanations of the jason myth have been given by scholars who thought they recognised elemental phenomena in the characters. as usual these explanations differ widely. whenever a myth has to be interpreted, it is certain that one set of scholars will discover the sun and the dawn, where another set will see the thunder-cloud and lightning. the moon is thrown in at pleasure. sir g. w. cox determines { } 'that the name jason (iason) must be classed with the many others, iasion, iamus, iolaus, iaso, belonging to the same root.' well, what is the root? apparently the root is 'the root i, as denoting a crying colour, that is, a loud colour' (ii. ). seemingly (i. ) violet is a loud colour, and, wherever you have the root i, you have 'the violet-tinted morning from which the sun is born.' medea is 'the daughter of the sun,' and most likely, in her 'beneficent aspect,' is the dawn. but (ii. , note) ios has another meaning, 'which, as a spear, represents the far-darting ray of the sun'; so that, in one way or another, jason is connected with the violet-tinted morning or with the sun's rays. this is the gist of the theory of sir george cox. preller { a} is another scholar, with another set of etymologies. jason is derived, he thinks, from [greek], to heal, because jason studied medicine under the centaur chiron. this is the view of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius (i. ). jason, to preller's mind, is a form of asclepius, 'a spirit of the spring with its soft suns and fertile rains.' medea is the moon. medea, on the other hand, is a lightning goddess, in the opinion of schwartz. { b} no philological reason is offered. meanwhile, in sir george cox's system, the equivalent of medea, 'in her beneficent aspect,' is the dawn. we must suppose, it seems, that either the soft spring rains and the moon, or the dawn and the sun, or the lightning and the thunder-cloud, in one arrangement or another, irresistibly suggested, to early aryan minds, the picture of a wooer, arriving in a hostile home, winning a maiden's love, achieving adventures by her aid, fleeing with her from her angry father and delaying his pursuit by various devices. why the spring, the moon, the lightning, the dawn--any of them or all of them--should have suggested such a tale, let scholars determine when they have reconciled their own differences. it is more to our purpose to follow the myth among samoans, algonquins, and finns. none of these races speak an aryan language, and none can have been beguiled into telling the same sort of tale by a disease of aryan speech. samoa, where we find our story, is the name of a group of volcanic islands in central polynesia. they are about , miles from sidney, were first observed by europeans in , and are as far removed as most spots from direct aryan influences. our position is, however, that in the shiftings and migrations of peoples, the jason tale has somehow been swept, like a piece of drift-wood, on to the coasts of samoa. in the islands, the tale has an epical form, and is chanted in a poem of twenty- six stanzas. there is something greek in the free and happy life of the samoans--something greek, too, in this myth of theirs. there was once a youth, siati, famous for his singing, a young thamyris of samoa. but as, according to homer, 'the muses met thamyris the thracian, and made an end of his singing, for he boasted and said that he would vanquish even the muses if he sang against them,' so did the samoan god of song envy siati. the god and the mortal sang a match: the daughter of the god was to be the mortal's prize if he proved victorious. siati won, and he set off, riding on a shark, as arion rode the dolphin, to seek the home of the defeated deity. at length he reached the shores divine, and thither strayed puapae, daughter of the god, looking for her comb which she had lost. 'siati,' said she, 'how camest thou hither?' 'i am come to seek the song-god, and to wed his daughter.' 'my father,' said the maiden, 'is more a god than a man; eat nothing he hands you, never sit on a high seat, lest death follow.' so they were united in marriage. but the god, like aeetes, was wroth, and began to set siati upon perilous tasks: 'build me a house, and let it be finished this very day, else death and the oven await thee.' { a} siati wept, but the god's daughter had the house built by the evening. the other adventures were to fight a fierce dog, and to find a ring lost at sea. just as the scotch giant's daughter cut off her fingers to help her lover, so the samoan god's daughter bade siati cut her body into pieces and cast her into the sea. there she became a fish, and recovered the ring. they set off to the god's house, but met him pursuing them, with the help of his other daughter. 'puapae and siati threw down the comb, and it became a bush of thorns in the way to intercept the god and puanli,' the other daughter. next they threw down a bottle of earth which became a mountain; 'and then followed their bottle of water, and that became a sea, and drowned the god and puanli.' { b} this old samoan song contains nearly the closest savage parallel to the various household tales which find their heroic and artistic shape in the jason saga. still more surprising in its resemblances is the malagasy version of the narrative. in the malagasy story, the conclusion is almost identical with the winding up of the scotch fairy tale. the girl hides in a tree; her face, seen reflected in a well, is mistaken by women for their own faces, and the recognition follows in due course. { c} like most red indian versions of popular tales, the algonquin form of the jason saga is strongly marked with the peculiarities of the race. the story is recognisable, and that is all. the opening, as usual, differs from other openings. two children are deserted in the wilderness, and grow up to manhood. one of them loses an arrow in the water; the elder brother, panigwun, wades after it. a magical canoe flies past: an old magician, who is alone in the canoe, seizes panigwun and carries him off. the canoe fleets along, like the barques of the phaeacians, at the will of the magician, and reaches the isle where, like the samoan god of song, he dwells with his two daughters. 'here, my daughter,' said he, 'is a young man for your husband.' but the daughter knew that the proposed husband was but another victim of the old man's magic arts. by the daughter's advice, panigwun escaped in the magic barque, consoled his brother, and returned to the island. next day the magician, mishosha, set the young man to hard tasks and perilous adventures. he was to gather gulls' eggs; but the gulls attacked him in dense crowds. by an incantation he subdued the birds, and made them carry him home to the island. next day he was sent to gather pebbles, that he might be attacked and eaten by the king of the fishes. once more the young man, like the finnish ilmarinen in pohjola, subdued the mighty fish, and went back triumphant. the third adventure, as in 'nicht nought nothing,' was to climb a tree of extraordinary height in search of a bird's nest. here, again, the youth succeeded, and finally conspired with the daughters to slay the old magician. lastly the boy turned the magician into a sycamore tree, and won his daughter. the other daughter was given to the brother who had no share in the perils. { } here we miss the incident of the flight; and the magician's daughter, though in love with the hero, does not aid him to perform the feats. perhaps an algonquin brave would scorn the assistance of a girl. in the 'kalevala,' the old hero, wainamoinen, and his friend ilmarinen, set off to the mysterious and hostile land of pohjola to win a bride. the maiden of pohjola loses her heart to ilmarinen, and, by her aid, he bridles the wolf and bear, ploughs a field of adders with a plough of gold, and conquers the gigantic pike that swims in the styx of finnish mythology. after this point the story is interrupted by a long sequel of popular bridal songs, and, in the wandering course of the rather aimless epic, the flight and its incidents have been forgotten, or are neglected. these incidents recur, however, in the thread of somewhat different plots. we have seen that they are found in japan, among the eskimo, among the bushmen, the samoyeds, and the zulus, as well as in hungarian, magyar, celtic, and other european household tales. the conclusion appears to be that the central part of the jason myth is incapable of being explained, either as a nature-myth, or as a myth founded on a disease of language. so many languages could not take the same malady in the same way; nor can we imagine any series of natural phenomena that would inevitably suggest this tale to so many diverse races. we must suppose, therefore, either that all wits jumped and invented the same romantic series of situations by accident, or that all men spread from one centre, where the story was known, or that the story, once invented, has drifted all round the world. if the last theory be approved of, the tale will be like the indian ocean shell found lately in the polish bone-cave, { a} or like the egyptian beads discovered in the soil of dahomey. the story will have been carried hither and thither, in the remotest times, to the remotest shores, by traders, by slaves, by captives in war, or by women torn from their own tribe and forcibly settled as wives among alien peoples. stories of this kind are everywhere the natural property of mothers and grandmothers. when we remember how widely diffused is the law of exogamy, which forbids marriage between a man and woman of the same stock, we are impressed by the number of alien elements which must have been introduced with alien wives. where husband and wife, as often happened, spoke different languages, the woman would inevitably bring the hearthside tales of her childhood among a people of strange speech. by all these agencies, working through dateless time, we may account for the diffusion, if we cannot explain the origin, of tales like the central arrangement of incidents in the career of jason. { b} apollo and the mouse. why is apollo, especially the apollo of the troad, he who showered the darts of pestilence among the greeks, so constantly associated with a mouse? the very name, smintheus, by which his favourite priest calls on him in the 'iliad' (i. ), might be rendered 'mouse apollo,' or 'apollo, lord of mice.' as we shall see later, mice lived beneath the altar, and were fed in the holy of holies of the god, and an image of a mouse was placed beside or upon his sacred tripod. the ancients were puzzled by these things, and, as will be shown, accounted for them by 'mouse-stories,' [greek], so styled by eustathius, the mediaeval interpreter of homer. following our usual method, let us ask whether similar phenomena occur elsewhere, in countries where they are intelligible. did insignificant animals elsewhere receive worship: were their effigies elsewhere placed in the temples of a purer creed? we find answers in the history of peruvian religion. after the spanish conquest of peru, one of the european adventurers, don garcilasso de la vega, married an inca princess. their son, also named garcilasso, was born about . his famous book, 'commentarias reales,' contains the most authentic account of the old peruvian beliefs. garcilasso was learned in all the learning of the europeans, and, as an inca on the mother's side, had claims on the loyalty of the defeated race. he set himself diligently to collect both their priestly and popular traditions, and his account of them is the more trustworthy as it coincides with what we know to have been true in lands with which garcilasso had little acquaintance. * * * * * to garcilasso's mind, peruvian religion seems to be divided into two periods--the age before, and the age which followed the accession of the incas, and their establishment of sun-worship as the creed of the state. in the earlier period, the pre-inca period, he tells us 'an indian was not accounted honourable unless he was descended from a fountain, river, or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey.' { a} to these worshipful creatures 'men offered what they usually saw them eat' (i. ). but men were not content to adore large and dangerous animals. 'there was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever, that they did not worship as a god,' including 'lizards, toads, and frogs.' in the midst of these superstitions the incas appeared. just as the tribes claimed descent from animals, great or small, so the incas drew _their_ pedigree from the sun, which they adored like the gens of the aurelii in rome. { b} thus every indian had his pacarissa, or, as the north american indians say, totem, { a} a natural object from which he claimed descent, and which, in a certain degree, he worshipped. though sun-worship became the established religion, worship of the animal pacarissas was still tolerated. the sun-temples also contained huacas, or images, of the beasts which the indians had venerated. { b} in the great temple of pachacamac, the most spiritual and abstract god of peruvian faith, 'they worshipped a she-fox and an emerald. the devil also appeared to them, and spoke in the form of a tiger, very fierce.' { c} this toleration of an older and cruder, in subordination to a purer, faith is a very common feature in religious evolution. in catholic countries, to this day, we may watch, in holy week, the adonis feast described by theocritus, { d} and the procession and entombment of the old god of spring. 'the incas had the good policy to collect all the tribal animal gods into their temples in and round cuzco, in which the two leading gods were the master of life, and the sun.' did a process of this sort ever occur in greek religion, and were older animal gods ever collected into the temples of such deities as apollo? * * * * * while a great deal of scattered evidence about many animals consecrated to greek gods points in this direction, it will be enough, for the present, to examine the case of the sacred mice. among races which are still in the totemistic stage, which still claim descent from animals and from other objects, a peculiar marriage law generally exists, or can be shown to have existed. no man may marry a woman who is descended from the same ancestral animal, and who bears the same totem-name, and carries the same badge or family crest, as himself. a man descended from the crane, and whose family name is crane, cannot marry a woman whose family name is crane. he must marry a woman of the wolf, or turtle, or swan, or other name, and her children keep her family title, not his. thus, if a crane man marries a swan woman, the children are swans, and none of them may marry a swan; they must marry turtles, wolves, or what not, and _their_ children, again, are turtles, or wolves. thus there is necessarily an eternal come and go of all the animal names known in a district. as civilisation advances these rules grow obsolete. people take their names from the father, as among ourselves. finally the dwellers in a given district, having become united into a local tribe, are apt to drop the various animal titles and to adopt, as the name of the whole tribe, the name of the chief, or of the predominating family. let us imagine a district of some twenty miles in which there are crane, wolf, turtle, and swan families. long residence together, and common interests, have welded them into a local tribe. the chief is of the wolf family, and the tribe, sinking family differences and family names, calls itself 'the wolves.' such tribes were probably, in the beginning, the inhabitants of the various egyptian towns which severally worshipped the wolf, or the sheep, or the crocodile, and abstained religiously (except on certain sacrificial occasions) from the flesh of the animal that gave them its name. { } * * * * * it has taken us long to reach the sacred mice of greek religion, but we are now in a position to approach their august divinity. we have seen that the sun-worship superseded, without abolishing, the tribal pacarissas in peru, and that the huacas, or images, of the sacred animals were admitted under the roof of the temple of the sun. now it is recognised that the temples of the sminthian apollo contained images of sacred mice among other animals, and our argument is that here, perhaps, we have another example of the peruvian religious evolution. just as, in peru, the tribes adored 'vile and filthy' animals, just as the solar worship of the incas subordinated these, just as the huacas of the beasts remained in the temples of the peruvian sun; so, we believe, the tribes along the mediterranean coasts had, at some very remote prehistoric period, their animal pacarissas; these were subordinated to the religion (to some extent solar) of apollo; and the huacas, or animal idols, survived in apollo's temples. * * * * * if this theory be correct, we shall probably find the mouse, for example, revered as a sacred animal in many places. this would necessarily follow, if the marriage customs which we have described ever prevailed on greek soil, and scattered the mouse-name far and wide. { a} traces of the mouse families, and of adoration, if adoration there was of the mouse, would linger on in the following shapes:--( ) places would be named from mice, and mice would be actually held sacred in themselves. ( ) the mouse-name would be given locally to the god who superseded the mouse. ( ) the figure of the mouse would be associated with the god, and used as a badge, or a kind of crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has been a venerated animal. ( ) finally, myths would be told to account for the sacredness of a creature so undignified. let us take these considerations in their order:-- ( ) if there were local mice tribes, deriving their name from the worshipful mouse, certain towns settled by these tribes would retain a reverence for mice. in chrysa, a town of the troad, according to heraclides ponticus, mice were held sacred, the local name for mouse being [greek]. many places bore this mouse-name, according to strabo. { b} this is precisely what would have occurred had the mouse totem, and the mouse stock, been widely distributed. { c} the scholiast { a} mentions sminthus as a place in the troad. strabo speaks of two places deriving their name from sminthus, or mouse, near the sminthian temple, and others near larissa. in rhodes and lindus, the mouse place-name recurs, 'and in many other districts' ([greek]). strabo (x. ) names caressus, and poeessa, in ceos, among the other places which had sminthian temples, and, presumably, were once centres of tribes named after the mouse. here, then, are a number of localities in which the mouse apollo was adored, and where the old mouse-name lingered. that the mice were actually held sacred in their proper persons we learn from aelian. 'the dwellers in hamaxitus of the troad worship mice,' says aelian. 'in the temple of apollo smintheus, mice are nourished, and food is offered to them, at the public expense, and white mice dwell beneath the altar.' { b} in the same way we found that the peruvians fed their sacred beasts on what they usually saw them eat. ( ) the second point in our argument has already been sufficiently demonstrated. the mouse-name 'smintheus' was given to apollo in all the places mentioned by strabo, 'and many others.' ( ) the figure of the mouse will be associated with the god, and used as a badge, or crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has been a venerated animal. the passage already quoted from aelian informs us that there stood 'an effigy of the mouse beside the tripod of apollo.' in chrysa, according to strabo (xiii. ), the statue of apollo smintheus had a mouse beneath his foot. the mouse on the tripod of apollo is represented on a bas-relief illustrating the plague, and the offerings of the greeks to apollo smintheus, as described in the first book of the 'iliad.' { a} * * * * * the mouse is a not uncommon local badge or crest in greece. the animals whose figures are stamped on coins, like the athenian owl, are the most ancient marks of cities. it is a plausible conjecture that, just as the iroquois when they signed treaties with the europeans used their totems--bear, wolf, and turtle--as seals, { b} so the animals on archaic greek city coins represented crests or badges which, at some far more remote period, had been totems. the argives, according to pollux, { c} stamped the mouse on their coins. { d} as there was a temple of apollo smintheus in tenedos, we naturally hear of a mouse on the coins of the island. { a} golzio has published one of these mouse coins. the people of metapontum stamped their money with a mouse gnawing an ear of corn. the people of cumae employed a mouse dormant. paoli fancied that certain mice on roman medals might be connected with the family of mus, but this is rather guesswork. { b} we have now shown traces, at least, of various ways in which an early tribal religion of the mouse--the mouse pacarissa, as the peruvians said--may have been perpetuated. when we consider that the superseding of the mouse by apollo must have occurred, if it did occur, long before homer, we may rather wonder that the mouse left his mark on greek religion so long. we have seen mice revered, a god with a mouse-name, the mouse-name recurring in many places, the huaca, or idol, of the mouse preserved in the temples of the god, and the mouse-badge used in several widely severed localities. it remains ( ) to examine the myths about mice. these, in our opinion, were probably told to account for the presence of the huaca of the mouse in temples, and for the occurrence of the animal in religion, and his connection with apollo. a singular mouse-myth, narrated by herodotus, is worth examining for reasons which will appear later, though the events are said to have happened on egyptian soil. { c} according to herodotus, one sethos, a priest of hephaestus (ptah), was king of egypt. he had disgraced the military class, and he found himself without an army when sennacherib invaded his country. sethos fell asleep in the temple, and the god, appearing to him in a vision, told him that divine succour would come to the egyptians. { a} in the night before the battle, field-mice gnawed the quivers and shield-handles of the foe, who fled on finding themselves thus disarmed. 'and now,' says herodotus, 'there standeth a stone image of this king in the temple of hephaestus, and in the hand of the image a mouse, and there is this inscription, "let whoso looketh on me be pious."' prof. sayce { b} holds that there was no such person as sethos, but that the legend 'is evidently egyptian, not greek, and the name of sennacherib, as well as the fact of the assyrian attack, is correct.' the legend also, though egyptian, is 'an echo of the biblical account of the destruction of the assyrian army,' an account which omits the mice. 'as to the mice, here,' says prof. sayce, 'we have to do again with the greek dragomen (sic). the story of sethos was attached to the statue of some deity which was supposed to hold a mouse in its hand.' it must have been easy to verify this supposition; but mr. sayce adds, 'mice were not sacred in egypt, nor were they used as symbols, or found on the monuments.' to this remark we may suggest some exceptions. apparently this one mouse _was_ found on the monuments. wilkinson (iii. ) says mice do occur in the sculptures, but they were not sacred. rats, however, were certainly sacred, and as little distinction is taken, in myth, between rats and mice as between rabbits and hares. the rat was sacred to ra, the sun-god, and (like all totems) was not to be eaten. { a} this association of the rat and the sun cannot but remind us of apollo and his mouse. according to strabo, a certain city of egypt did worship the shrew-mouse. the athribitae, or dwellers in crocodilopolis, are the people to whom he attributes this cult, which he mentions (xvii. ) among the other local animal-worships of egypt. { b} several porcelain examples of the field-mouse sacred to horus (commonly called apollo by the greeks) may be seen in the british museum. that rats and field-mice were sacred in egypt, then, we may believe on the evidence of the ritual, of strabo, and of many relics of egyptian art. herodotus, moreover, is credited when he says that the statue 'had a mouse on its hand.' elsewhere, it is certain that the story of mice gnawing the bowstrings occurs frequently as an explanation of mouse-worship. one of the trojan 'mouse-stories' ran--that emigrants had set out in prehistoric times from crete. the oracle advised them to settle 'wherever they were attacked by the children of the soil.' at hamaxitus in the troad, they were assailed in the night by mice, which ate all that was edible of their armour and bowstrings. the colonists made up their mind that these mice were 'the children of the soil,' settled there, and adored the mouse apollo. { a} a myth of this sort may either be a story invented to explain the mouse-name; or a mouse tribe, like the red indian wolves, or crows, may actually have been settled on the spot, and may even have resisted invasion. { b} another myth of the troad accounted for the worship of the mouse apollo on the hypothesis that he had once freed the land from mice, like the pied piper of hamelin, whose pipe (still serviceable) is said to have been found in his grave by men who were digging a mine. { c} stories like these, stories attributing some great deliverance to the mouse, or some deliverance from mice to the god, would naturally spring up among people puzzled by their own worship of the mouse-god or of the mouse. we have explained the religious character of mice as the relics of a past age in which the mouse had been a totem and mouse family names had been widely diffused. that there are, and have been, mice totems and mouse family names among semitic stocks round the mediterranean is proved by prof. robertson smith: { a} 'achbor, the mouse, is an edomite name, apparently a stock name, as the jerboa and another mouse-name are among the arabs. the same name occurs in judah.' where totemism exists, the members of each stock either do not eat the ancestral animal at all, or only eat him on rare sacrificial occasions. the totem of a hostile stock may be eaten by way of insult. in the case of the mouse, isaiah seems to refer to one or other of these practices (lxvi.): 'they that sanctify themselves, and purify themselves in the gardens behind one tree in the midst, eating swine's flesh, and the abomination, and the _mouse_, shall be consumed together, saith the lord.' this is like the egyptian prohibition to eat 'the abominable' (that is, tabooed or forbidden) 'rat of ra.' if the unclean animals of israel were originally the totems of each clan, then the mouse was a totem, { b} for the chosen people were forbidden to eat 'the weasel, and the mouse, and the tortoise after his kind.' that unclean beasts, beasts not to be eaten, were originally totems, prof. robertson smith infers from ezekiel (viii. , ), where 'we find seventy of the elders of israel--that is, the heads of houses--worshipping in a chamber which had on its walls the figures of all manner of unclean' (tabooed) 'creeping things, and quadrupeds, _even all the idols of the house of israel_.' some have too hastily concluded that the mouse was a sacred animal among the neighbouring philistines. after the philistines had captured the ark and set it in the house of dagon, the people were smitten with disease. they therefore, in accordance with a well-known savage magical practice, made five golden representations of the diseased part, and five golden mice, as 'a trespass offering to the lord of israel,' and so restored the ark. { } such votive offerings are common still in catholic countries, and the mice of gold by no means prove that the philistines had ever worshipped mice. * * * * * turning to india from the mediterranean basin, and the aryan, semitic, and egyptian tribes on its coasts, we find that the mouse was the sacred animal of rudra. 'the mouse, rudra, is thy beast,' says the yajur veda, as rendered by grohmann in his 'apollo smintheus.' grohmann recognises in rudra a deity with most of the characteristics of apollo. in later indian mythology, the mouse is an attribute of ganeca, who, like apollo smintheus, is represented in art with his foot upon a mouse. such are the chief appearances of the mouse in ancient religion. if he really was a semitic totem, it may, perhaps, be argued that his prevalence in connection with apollo is the result of a semitic leaven in hellenism. hellenic invaders may have found semitic mouse-tribes at home, and incorporated the alien stock deity with their own apollo-worship. in that case the mouse, while still originally a totem, would not be an aryan totem. but probably the myths and rites of the mouse, and their diffusion, are more plausibly explained on our theory than on that of de gubernatis: 'the pagan sun-god crushes under his foot the mouse of night. when the cat's away, the mice may play; the shadows of night dance when the moon is absent.' { a} this is one of the quaintest pieces of mythological logic. obviously, when the cat (the moon) is away, the mice (the shadows) _cannot_ play: there is no light to produce a shadow. as usually chances, the scholars who try to resolve all the features of myth into physical phenomena do not agree among themselves about the mouse. while the mouse is the night, according to m. de gubernatis, in grohmann's opinion the mouse is the lightning. he argues that the lightning was originally regarded by the aryan race as the 'flashing tooth of a beast,' especially of a mouse. afterwards men came to identify the beast with his teeth, and, behold, the lightning and the mouse are convertible mythical terms! now it is perfectly true that savages regard many elemental phenomena, from eclipses to the rainbow, as the result of the action of animals. the rainbow is a serpent; { b} thunder is caused by the thunder-bird, who has actually been shot in dacotah, and who is familiar to the zulus; while rain is the milk of a heavenly cow--an idea recurring in the 'zend avesta.' but it does not follow because savages believe in these meteorological beasts that all the beasts in myth were originally meteorological. man raised a serpent to the skies, perhaps, but his interest in the animal began on earth, not in the clouds. it is excessively improbable, and quite unproved, that any race ever regarded lightning as the flashes of a mouse's teeth. the hypothesis is a jeu d'esprit, like the opposite hypothesis about the mouse of night. in these, and all the other current theories of the sminthian apollo, the widely diffused worship of ordinary mice, and such small deer, has been either wholly neglected, or explained by the first theory of symbolism that occurred to the conjecture of a civilised observer. the facts of savage animal-worship, and their relations to totemism, seem still unknown to or unappreciated by scholars, with the exception of mr. sayce, who recognises totemism as the origin of the zoomorphic element in egyptian religion. our explanation, whether adequate or not, is not founded on an isolated case. if apollo superseded and absorbed the worship of the mouse, he did no less for the wolf, the ram, the dolphin, and several other animals whose images were associated with his own. the greek religion was more refined and anthropomorphic than that of egypt. in egypt the animals were still adored, and the images of the gods had bestial heads. in greece only a few gods, and chiefly in very archaic statues, had bestial heads; but beside the other deities the sculptor set the owl, eagle, wolf, serpent, tortoise, mouse, or whatever creature was the local favourite of the deity. { a} probably the deity had, in the majority of cases, superseded the animal and succeeded to his honours. but the conservative religious sentiment retained the beast within the courts and in the suit and service of the anthropomorphic god. { b} the process by which the god ousted the beasts may perhaps be observed in samoa. there (as dr. turner tells us in his 'samoa') each family has its own sacred animal, which it may not eat. if this law be transgressed, the malefactor is supernaturally punished in a variety of ways. but, while each family has thus its totem, four or five different families recognise, in owl, crab, lizard, and so on, incarnations of the same god, say of tongo. if tongo had a temple among these families, we can readily believe that images of the various beasts in which he was incarnate would be kept within the consecrated walls. savage ideas like these, if they were ever entertained in greece, would account for the holy animals of the different deities. but it is obvious that the phenomena which we have been studying may be otherwise explained. it may be said that the sminthian apollo was only revered as the enemy and opponent of mice. st. gertrude (whose heart was eaten by mice) has the same role in france. { } the worship of apollo, and the badge of the mouse, would, on this principle, be diffused by colonies from some centre of the faith. the images of mice in apollo's temples would be nothing more than votive offerings. thus, in the church of a saxon town, the verger shows a silver mouse dedicated to our lady. 'this is the greatest of our treasures,' says the verger. 'our town was overrun with mice till the ladies of the city offered this mouse of silver. instantly all the mice disappeared.' 'and are you such fools as to believe that the creatures went away because a silver mouse was dedicated?' asked a prussian officer. 'no,' replied the verger, rather neatly; 'or long ago we should have offered a silver prussian.' star myths. artemus ward used to say that, while there were many things in the science of astronomy hard to be understood, there was one fact which entirely puzzled him. he could partly perceive how we 'weigh the sun,' and ascertain the component elements of the heavenly bodies, by the aid of spectrum analysis. 'but what beats me about the stars,' he observed plaintively, 'is how we come to know their names.' this question, or rather the somewhat similar question, 'how did the constellations come by their very peculiar names?' has puzzled professor pritchard and other astronomers more serious than artemus ward. why is a group of stars called the bear, or the swan, or the twins, or named after the pleiades, the fair daughters of the giant atlas? { } these are difficulties that meet even children when they examine a 'celestial globe.' there they find the figure of a bear, traced out with lines in the intervals between the stars of the constellations, while a very imposing giant is so drawn that orion's belt just fits his waist. but when he comes to look at the heavens, the infant speculator sees no sort of likeness to a bear in the stars, nor anything at all resembling a giant in the neighbourhood of orion. the most eccentric modern fancy which can detect what shapes it will in clouds, is unable to find any likeness to human or animal forms in the stars, and yet we call a great many of the stars by the names of men and beasts and gods. some resemblance to terrestrial things, it is true, everyone can behold in the heavens. corona, for example, is like a crown, or, as the australian black fellows know, it is like a boomerang, and we can understand why they give it the name of that curious curved missile. the milky way, again, does resemble a path in the sky; our english ancestors called it watling street--the path of the watlings, mythical giants--and bushmen in africa and red men in north america name it the 'ashen path,' or 'the path of souls.' the ashes of the path, of course, are supposed to be hot and glowing, not dead and black like the ash-paths of modern running-grounds. other and more recent names for certain constellations are also intelligible. in homer's time the greeks had two names for the great bear; they called it the bear, or the wain: and a certain fanciful likeness to a wain may be made out, though no resemblance to a bear is manifest. in the united states the same constellation is popularly styled the dipper, and every one may observe the likeness to a dipper or toddy-ladle. but these resemblances take us only a little way towards appellations. we know that we derive many of the names straight from the greek; but whence did the greeks get them? some, it is said, from the chaldaeans; but whence did they reach the chaldaeans? to this we shall return later, but, as to early greek star-lore, goguet, the author of 'l'origine des lois,' a rather learned but too speculative work of the last century, makes the following characteristic remarks: 'the greeks received their astronomy from prometheus. this prince, as far as history teaches us, made his observations on mount caucasus.' that was the eighteenth century's method of interpreting mythology. the myth preserved in the 'prometheus bound' of aeschylus tells us that zeus crucified the titan on mount caucasus. the french philosopher, rejecting the supernatural elements of the tale, makes up his mind that prometheus was a prince of a scientific bent, and that he established his observatory on the frosty caucasus. but, even admitting this, why did prometheus give the stars animal names? goguet easily explains this by a hypothetical account of the manners of primitive men. 'the earliest peoples,' he says, 'must have used writing for purposes of astronomical science. they would be content to design the constellations of which they wished to speak by the hieroglyphical symbols of their names; hence the constellations have insensibly taken the names of the chief symbols.' thus, a drawing of a bear or a swan was the hieroglyphic of the name of a star, or group of stars. but whence came the name which was represented by the hieroglyphic? that is precisely what our author forgets to tell us. but he remarks that the meaning of the hieroglyphic came to be forgotten, and 'the symbols gave rise to all the ridiculous tales about the heavenly signs.' this explanation is attained by the process of reasoning in a vicious circle from hypothetical premises ascertained to be false. all the known savages of the world, even those which have scarcely the elements of picture-writing, call the constellations by the names of men and animals, and all tell 'ridiculous tales' to account for the names. as the star-stories told by the greeks, the ancient egyptians, and other civilised people of the old world, exactly correspond in character, and sometimes even in incident, with the star-stories of modern savages, we have the choice of three hypotheses to explain this curious coincidence. perhaps the star-stories, about nymphs changed into bears, and bears changed into stars, were invented by the civilised races of old, and gradually found their way amongst people like the eskimo, and the australians, and bushmen. or it may be insisted that the ancestors of australians, eskimo, and bushmen were once civilised, like the greeks and egyptians, and invented star-stories, still remembered by their degenerate descendants. these are the two forms of the explanation which will be advanced by persons who believe that the star-stories were originally the fruit of the civilised imagination. the third theory would be, that the 'ridiculous tales' about the stars were originally the work of the savage imagination, and that the greeks, chaldaeans, and egyptians, when they became civilised, retained the old myths that their ancestors had invented when they were savages. in favour of this theory it may be said, briefly, that there is no proof that the fathers of australians, eskimo, and bushmen had ever been civilised, while there is a great deal of evidence to suggest that the fathers of the greeks had once been savages. { } and, if we incline to the theory that the star- myths are the creation of savage fancy, we at once learn why they are, in all parts of the world, so much alike. just as the flint and bone weapons of rude races resemble each other much more than they resemble the metal weapons and the artillery of advanced peoples, so the mental products, the fairy tales, and myths of rude races have everywhere a strong family resemblance. they are produced by men in similar mental conditions of ignorance, curiosity, and credulous fancy, and they are intended to supply the same needs, partly of amusing narrative, partly of crude explanation of familiar phenomena. now it is time to prove the truth of our assertion that the star-stories of savage and of civilised races closely resemble each other. let us begin with that well-known group the pleiades. the peculiarity of the pleiades is that the group consists of seven stars, of which one is so dim that it seems entirely to disappear, and many persons can only detect its presence through a telescope. the greeks had a myth to account for the vanishing of the lost pleiad. the tale is given in the 'catasterismoi' (stories of metamorphoses into stars) attributed to eratosthenes. this work was probably written after our era; but the author derived his information from older treatises now lost. according to the greek myth, then, the seven stars of the pleiad were seven maidens, daughters of the giant atlas. six of them had gods for lovers; poseidon admired two of them, zeus three, and ares one; but the seventh had only an earthly wooer, and when all of them were changed into stars, the maiden with the mortal lover hid her light for shame. now let us compare the australian story. according to mr. dawson ('australian aborigines'), a writer who understands the natives well, 'their knowledge of the heavenly bodies greatly exceeds that of most white people,' and 'is taught by men selected for their intelligence and information. the knowledge is important to the aborigines on their night journeys;' so we may be sure that the natives are careful observers of the heavens, and are likely to be conservative of their astronomical myths. the 'lost pleiad' has not escaped them, and this is how they account for her disappearance. the pirt kopan noot tribe have a tradition that the pleiades were a queen and her six attendants. long ago the crow (our canopus) fell in love with the queen, who refused to be his wife. the crow found that the queen and her six maidens, like other australian gins, were in the habit of hunting for white edible grubs in the bark of trees. the crow at once changed himself into a grub (just as jupiter and indra used to change into swans, horses, ants, or what not) and hid in the bark of a tree. the six maidens sought to pick him out with their wooden hooks, but he broke the points of all the hooks. then came the queen, with her pretty bone hook; he let himself be drawn out, took the shape of a giant, and ran away with her. ever since there have only been six stars, the six maidens, in the pleiad. this story is well known, by the strictest inquiry, to be current among the blacks of the west district and in south australia. mr. tylor, whose opinion is entitled to the highest respect, thinks that this may be a european myth, told by some settler to a black in the greek form, and then spread about among the natives. he complains that the story of the loss of the _brightest_ star does not fit the facts of the case. we do not know, and how can the australians know, that the lost star was once the brightest? it appears to me that the australians, remarking the disappearances of a star, might very naturally suppose that the _crow_ had selected for his wife that one which had been the most brilliant of the cluster. besides, the wide distribution of the tale among the natives, and the very great change in the nature of the incidents, seem to point to a native origin. though the main conception--the loss of one out of seven maidens--is identical in greek and in murri, the manner of the disappearance is eminently hellenic in the one case, eminently savage in the other. however this may be, nothing of course is proved by a single example. let us next examine the stars castor and pollux. both in greece and in australia these are said once to have been two young men. in the 'catasterismoi,' already spoken of, we read: 'the twins, or dioscouroi.--they were nurtured in lacedaemon, and were famous for their brotherly love, wherefore, zeus, desiring to make their memory immortal, placed them both among the stars.' in australia, according to mr. brough smyth ('aborigines of victoria'), turree (castor) and wanjel (pollux) are two young men who pursue purra and kill him at the commencement of the great heat. coonar toorung (the mirage) is the smoke of the fire by which they roast him. in greece it was not castor and pollux, but orion who was the great hunter placed among the stars. among the bushmen of south africa, castor and pollux are not young men, but young women, the wives of the eland, the great native antelope. in greek star-stories the great bear keeps watch, homer says, on the hunter orion for fear of a sudden attack. but how did the bear get its name in greece? according to hesiod, the oldest greek poet after homer, the bear was once a lady, daughter of lycaon, king of arcadia. she was a nymph of the train of chaste artemis, but yielded to the love of zeus, and became the ancestress of all the arcadians (that is, bear-folk). in her bestial form she was just about to be slain by her own son when zeus rescued her by raising her to the stars. here we must notice first, that the arcadians, like australians, red indians, bushmen, and many other wild races, and like the bedouins, believed themselves to be descended from an animal. that the early egyptians did the same is not improbable; for names of animals are found among the ancestors in the very oldest genealogical papyrus, { } as in the genealogies of the old english kings. next the arcadians transferred the ancestral bear to the heavens, and, in doing this, they resembled the peruvians, of whom acosta says: 'they adored the star urchuchilly, feigning it to be a ram, and worshipped two others, and say that one of them is a _sheep_, and the other a lamb . . . others worshipped the star called the tiger. _they were of opinion that there was not any beast or bird upon the earth, whose shape or image did not shine in the heavens_.' but to return to our bears. the australians have, properly speaking, no bears, though the animal called the native bear is looked up to by the aborigines with superstitious regard. but among the north american indians, as the old missionaries lafitau and charlevoix observed, 'the four stars in front of our constellation are a bear; those in the tail are hunters who pursue him; the small star apart is the pot in which they mean to cook him.' it may be held that the red men derived their bear from the european settlers. but, as we have seen, an exact knowledge of the stars has always been useful if not essential to savages; and we venture to doubt whether they would confuse their nomenclature and sacred traditions by borrowing terms from trappers and squatters. but, if this is improbable, it seems almost impossible that all savage races should have borrowed their whole conception of the heavenly bodies from the myths of greece. it is thus that egede, a missionary of the last century, describes the eskimo philosophy of the stars: 'the notions that the greenlanders have as to the origin of the heavenly lights--as sun, moon, and stars--are very nonsensical; in that they pretend they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors, who, on different accounts, were lifted up to heaven, and became such glorious celestial bodies.' again, he writes: 'their notions about the stars are that some of them have been men, and others different sorts, of animals and fishes.' but every reader of ovid knows that this was the very mythical theory of the greeks and romans. the egyptians, again, worshipped osiris, isis, and the rest as _ancestors_, and there are even modern scholars, like mr. loftie in his 'essay of scarabs,' who hold osiris to have been originally a real historical person. but the egyptian priests who showed plutarch the grave of osiris, showed him, too, the stars into which osiris, isis, and horus had been metamorphosed. here, then, we have greeks, egyptians, and eskimo, all agreed about the origin of the heavenly lights, all of opinion that 'they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors.' the australian general theory is: 'of the good men and women, after the deluge, pundjel (a kind of zeus, or rather a sort of prometheus of australian mythology) made stars. sorcerers (biraark) can tell which stars were once good men and women.' here the sorcerers have the same knowledge as the egyptian priests. again, just as among the arcadians, 'the progenitors of the existing tribes, whether birds, or beasts, or men, were set in the sky, and made to shine as stars.' { } we have already given some australian examples in the stories of the pleiades, and of castor and pollux. we may add the case of the eagle. in greece the eagle was the bird of zeus, who carried off ganymede to be the cup-bearer of olympus. among the australians this same constellation is called totyarguil; he was a man who, when bathing, was killed by a fabulous animal, a kind of kelpie; as orion, in greece, was killed by the scorpion. like orion, he was placed among the stars. the australians have a constellation named eagle, but he is our sinus, or dog-star. the indians of the amazon are in one tale with the australians and eskimo. 'dr. silva de coutinho informs me,' says professor hartt, { } 'that the indians of the amazonas not only give names to many of the heavenly bodies, but also tell stories about them. the two stars that form the shoulders of orion are said to be an old man and a boy in a canoe, chasing a peixe boi, by which name is designated a dark spot in the sky near the above constellation.' the indians also know monkey-stars, crane-stars, and palm-tree stars. the bushmen, almost the lowest tribe of south africa, have the same star- lore and much the same myths as the greeks, australians, egyptians, and eskimo. according to dr. bleek, 'stars, and even the sun and moon, were once mortals on earth, or even animals or inorganic substances, which happened to get translated to the skies. the sun was once a man, whose arm-pit radiated a limited amount of light round his house. some children threw him into the sky, and there he shines.' the homeric hymn to helios, in the same way, as mr. max muller observes, 'looks on the sun as a half-god, almost a hero, who had once lived on earth.' the pointers of the southern cross were 'two men who were lions,' just as callisto, in arcadia, was a woman who was a bear. it is not at all rare in those queer philosophies, as in that of the scandinavians, to find that the sun or moon has been a man or woman. in australian fable the moon was a man, the sun a woman of indifferent character, who appears at dawn in a coat of red kangaroo skins, the present of an admirer. in an old mexican text the moon was a man, across whose face a god threw a rabbit, thus making the marks in the moon. { a} many separate races seem to recognise the figure of a hare, where we see 'the man in the moon.' in a buddhist legend, an exemplary and altruistic hare was translated to the moon. 'to the common people in india the spots on the moon look like a hare, and chandras, the god of the moon, carries a hare: hence the moon is called sasin or sasanka, hare-mark. the mongolians also see in these shadows the figure of a hare.' { b} among the eskimo, the moon is a girl, who always flees from her cruel brother, the sun, because he disfigured her face. elsewhere the sun is the girl, beloved by her own brother, the moon; she blackens her face to avert his affection. on the rio branco, and among the tomunda, the moon is a girl who loved her brother and visited him in the dark. he detected her wicked passion by drawing his blackened hand over her face. the marks betrayed her, and, as the spots on the moon, remain to this day. { } among the new zealanders and north american indians the sun is a great beast, whom the hunters trapped and thrashed with cudgels. his blood is used in some new zealand incantations; and, according to an egyptian myth, was kneaded into clay at the making of man. but there is no end to similar sun-myths, in all of which the sun is regarded as a man, or even as a beast. to return to the stars-- the red indians, as schoolcraft says, 'hold many of the planets to be transformed adventurers.' the iowas 'believed stars to be a sort of living creatures.' one of them came down and talked to a hunter, and showed him where to find game. the gallinomeros of central california, according to mr. bancroft, believe that the sun and moon were made and lighted up by the hawk and the coyote, who one day flew into each other's faces in the dark, and were determined to prevent such accidents in the future. but the very oddest example of the survival of the notion that the stars are men or women is found in the 'pax' of aristophanes. trygaeus in that comedy has just made an expedition to heaven. a slave meets him, and asks him, 'is not the story true, then, that we become stars when we die?' the answer is 'certainly;' and trygaeus points out the star into which ios of chios has just been metamorphosed. aristophanes is making fun of some popular greek superstition. but that very superstition meets us in new zealand. 'heroes,' says mr. taylor, 'were thought to become stars of greater or less brightness, according to the number of their victims slain in fight.' the aryan race is seldom far behind, when there are ludicrous notions to be credited or savage tales to be told. we have seen that aristophanes, in greece, knew the eskimo doctrine that stars are souls of the dead. the persians had the same belief, { a} 'all the unnumbered stars were reckoned ghosts of men.' { b} the german folklore clings to the same belief, 'stars are souls; when a child dies god makes a new star.' kaegi quotes { c} the same idea from the veda, and from the satapatha brahmana the thoroughly australian notion that 'good men become stars.' for a truly savage conception, it would be difficult, in south africa or on the amazons, to beat the following story from the 'aitareya brahmana' (iii. .) pragapati, the master of life, conceived an incestuous passion for his own daughter. like zeus, and indra, and the australian wooer in the pleiad tale, he concealed himself under the shape of a beast, a roebuck, and approached his own daughter, who had assumed the form of a doe. the gods, in anger at the awful crime, made a monster to punish pragapati. the monster sent an arrow through the god's body; he sprang into heaven, and, like the arcadian bear, this aryan roebuck became a constellation. he is among the stars of orion, and his punisher, also now a star, is, like the greek orion, a hunter. the daughter of pragapati, the doe, became another constellation, and the avenging arrow is also a set of stars in the sky. what follows, about the origin of the gods called adityas, is really too savage to be quoted by a chaste mythologist. it would be easy to multiply examples of this stage of thought among aryans and savages. but we have probably brought forward enough for our purpose, and have expressly chosen instances from the most widely separated peoples. these instances, it will perhaps be admitted, suggest, if they do not prove, that the greeks had received from tradition precisely the same sort of legends about the heavenly bodies as are current among eskimo and bushmen, new zealanders and iowas. as much, indeed, might be inferred from our own astronomical nomenclature. we now give to newly discovered stars names derived from distinguished people, as georgium sidus, or herschel; or, again, merely technical appellatives, as alpha, beta, and the rest. we should never think when 'some new planet swims into our ken' of calling it kangaroo, or rabbit, or after the name of some hero of romance, as rob roy, or count fosco. but the names of stars which we inherit from greek mythology--the bear, the pleiads, castor and pollux, and so forth--are such as no people in our mental condition would originally think of bestowing. when callimachus and the courtly astronomers of alexandria pretended that the golden locks of berenice were raised to the heavens, that was a mere piece of flattery constructed on the inherited model of legends about the crown (corona) of ariadne. it seems evident enough that the older greek names of stars are derived from a time when the ancestors of the greeks were in the mental and imaginative condition of iowas, kanekas, bushmen, murri, and new zealanders. all these, and all other savage peoples, believe in a kind of equality and intercommunion among all things animate and inanimate. stones are supposed in the pacific islands to be male and female and to propagate their species. animals are believed to have human or superhuman intelligence, and speech, if they choose to exercise the gift. stars are just on the same footing, and their movements are explained by the same ready system of universal anthropomorphism. stars, fishes, gods, heroes, men, trees, clouds, and animals, all play their equal part in the confused dramas of savage thought and savage mythology. even in practical life the change of a sorcerer into an animal is accepted as a familiar phenomenon, and the power of soaring among the stars is one on which the australian biraark, or the eskimo shaman, most plumes himself. it is not wonderful that things which are held possible in daily practice should be frequent features of mythology. hence the ready invention and belief of star-legends, which in their turn fix the names of the heavenly bodies. nothing more, except the extreme tenacity of tradition and the inconvenience of changing a widely accepted name, is needed to account for the human and animal names of the stars. the greeks received from the dateless past of savage intellect the myths, and the names of the constellations, and we have taken them, without inquiry, from the greeks. thus it happens that our celestial globes are just as queer menageries as any globes could be that were illustrated by australians or american indians, by bushmen or peruvian aborigines, or eskimo. it was savages, we may be tolerably certain, who first handed to science the names of the constellations, and provided greece with the raw material of her astronomical myths--as bacon prettily says, that we listen to the harsh ideas of earlier peoples 'blown softly through the flutes of the grecians.' this position has been disputed by mr. brown, in a work rather komically called 'the law of kosmic order.' mr. brown's theory is that the early accadians named the zodiacal signs after certain myths and festivals connected with the months. thus the crab is a figure of 'the darkness power' which seized the akkadian solar hero, dumuzi, and 'which is constantly represented in monstrous and drakontic form.' the bull, again, is connected with night and darkness, 'in relation to the horned moon,' and is, for other reasons, 'a nocturnal potency.' few stars, to tell the truth, are diurnal potencies. mr. brown's explanations appear to me far-fetched and unconvincing. but, granting that the zodiacal signs reached greece from chaldaea, mr. brown will hardly maintain that australians, melanesians, iowas, amazon indians, eskimo, and the rest, borrowed their human and animal stars from 'akkadia.' the belief in animal and human stars is practically universal among savages who have not attained the 'akkadian' degree of culture. the belief, as mr. tylor has shown, { } is a natural result of savage ideas. we therefore infer that the 'akkadians,' too, probably fell back for star-names on what they inherited from the savage past. if the greeks borrowed certain star-names from the akkadians, they also, like the aryans of india, retained plenty of savage star-myths of their own, fables derived from the earliest astronomical guesses of early thought. the first moment in astronomical science arrives when the savage, looking at a star, says, like the child in the nursery poem, 'how i wonder what you are!' the next moment comes when the savage has made his first rough practical observations of the movements of the heavenly body. his third step is to explain these to himself. now science cannot offer any but a fanciful explanation beyond the sphere of experience. the experience of the savage is limited to the narrow world of his tribe, and of the beasts, birds, and fishes of his district. his philosophy, therefore, accounts for all phenomena on the supposition that the laws of the animate nature he observes are working everywhere. but his observations, misguided by his crude magical superstitions, have led him to believe in a state of equality and kinship between men and animals, and even inorganic things. he often worships the very beasts he slays; he addresses them as if they understood him; he believes himself to be descended from the animals, and of their kindred. these confused ideas he applies to the stars, and recognises in them men like himself, or beasts like those with which he conceives himself to be in such close human relations. there is scarcely a bird or beast but the red indian or the australian will explain its peculiarities by a myth, like a page from ovid's 'metamorphoses.' it was once a man or a woman, and has been changed to bird or beast by a god or a magician. men, again, have originally been beasts, in his philosophy, and are descended from wolves, frogs or serpents, or monkeys. the heavenly bodies are traced to precisely the same sort of origin; and hence, we conclude, come their strange animal names, and the strange myths about them which appear in all ancient poetry. these names, in turn, have curiously affected human beliefs. astrology is based on the opinion that a man's character and fate are determined by the stars under which he is born. and the nature of these stars is deduced from their names, so that the bear should have been found in the horoscope of dr. johnson. when giordano bruno wrote his satire against religion, the famous 'spaccio della bestia trionfante,' he proposed to banish not only the gods but the beasts from heaven. he would call the stars, not the bear, or the swan, or the pleiads, but truth, mercy, justice, and so forth, that men might be born, not under bestial, but moral influences. but the beasts have had too long possession of the stars to be easily dislodged, and the tenure of the bear and the swan will probably last as long as there is a science of astronomy. their names are not likely again to delude a philosopher into the opinion of aristotle that the stars are animated. this argument had been worked out to the writer's satisfaction when he chanced to light on mr. max muller's explanation of the name of the great bear. we have explained that name as only one out of countless similar appellations which men of every race give to the stars. these names, again, we have accounted for as the result of savage philosophy, which takes no great distinction between man and the things in the world, and looks on stars, beasts, birds, fishes, flowers, and trees as men and women in disguise. mr. muller's theory is based on philological considerations. he thinks that the name of the great bear is the result of a mistake as to the meaning of words. there was in sanskrit, he says, { } a root ark, or arch, meaning 'to be bright.' the stars are called riksha, that is, bright ones, in the veda. 'the constellations here called the rikshas, in the sense of the "bright ones," would be homonymous in sanskrit with the bears. remember also that, apparently without rhyme or reason, the same constellation is called by greeks and romans the bear. . . . there is not the shadow of a likeness with a bear. you will now perceive the influence of words on thought, or the spontaneous growth of mythology. the name riksha was applied to the bear in the sense of the bright fuscous animal, and in that sense it became most popular in the later sanskrit, and in greek and latin. the same name, "in the sense of the bright ones," had been applied by the vedic poets to the stars in general, and more particularly to that constellation which in the northern parts of india was the most prominent. the etymological meaning, "the bright stars," was forgotten; the popular meaning of riksha (bear) was known to everyone. and thus it happened that, when the greeks had left their central home and settled in europe, they retained the name of arktos for the same unchanging stars; but, not knowing why those stars had originally received that name, they ceased to speak of them as arktoi, or many bears, and spoke of them as the bear.' this is a very good example of the philological way of explaining a myth. if once we admit that ark, or arch, in the sense of 'bright' and of 'bear,' existed, not only in sanskrit, but in the undivided aryan tongue, and that the name riksha, bear, 'became in that sense most popular in greek and latin,' this theory seems more than plausible. but the explanation does not look so well if we examine, not only the aryan, but all the known myths and names of the bear and the other stars. professor sayce, a distinguished philologist, says we may not compare non-aryan with aryan myths. we have ventured to do so, however, in this paper, and have shown that the most widely severed races give the stars animal names, of which the bear is one example. now, if the philologists wish to persuade us that it was decaying and half-forgotten language which caused men to give the names of animals to the stars, they must prove their case on an immense collection of instances--on iowa, kaneka, murri, maori, brazilian, peruvian, mexican, egyptian, eskimo, instances. it would be the most amazing coincidence in the world if forgetfulness of the meaning of their own speech compelled tribes of every tongue and race to recognise men and beasts, cranes, cockatoos, serpents, monkeys, bears, and so forth, in the heavens. how came the misunderstood words always to be misunderstood in the same way? does the philological explanation account for the enormous majority of the phenomena? if it fails, we may at least doubt whether it solves the one isolated case of the great bear among the greeks and romans. it must be observed that the philological explanation of mr. muller does not clear up the arcadian story of their own descent from a she-bear who is now a star. yet similar stories of the descent of tribes from animals are so widespread that it would be difficult to name the race or the quarter of the globe where they are not found. are they all derived from misunderstood words meaning 'bright'? these considerations appear to be a strong argument for comparing not only aryan, but all attainable myths. we shall often find, if we take a wide view, that the philological explanation which seemed plausible in a single case is hopelessly narrow when applied to a large collection of parallel cases in languages of various families. finally, in dealing with star myths, we adhere to the hypothesis of mr. tylor: 'from savagery up to civilisation,' akkadian, greek, or english, 'there may be traced in the mythology of the stars a course of thought, changed, indeed, in application, yet never broken in its evident connection from first to last. the savage sees individual stars as animate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial creatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them; while at the other extremity of the scale of civilisation the modern astronomer keeps up just such ancient fancies, turning them to account in useful survival, as a means of mapping out the celestial globe.' moly and mandragora. 'i have found out a new cure for rheumatism,' said the lady beside whom it was my privilege to sit at dinner. 'you carry a potato about in your pocket!' some one has written an amusing account of the behaviour of a man who is finishing a book. he takes his ideas everywhere with him and broods over them, even at dinner, in the pauses of conversation. but here was a lady who kindly contributed to my studies and offered me folklore and survivals in cultivated kensington. my mind had strayed from the potato cure to the new zealand habit of carrying a baked yam at night to frighten away ghosts, and to the old english belief that a bit of bread kept in the pocket was sovereign against evil spirits. why should ghosts dread the food of mortals when it is the custom of most races of mortals to feed ancestral ghosts? the human mind works pretty rapidly, and all this had passed through my brain while i replied, in tones of curiosity: 'a potato!' 'yes; but it is not every potato that will do. i heard of the cure in the country, and when we came up to town, and my husband was complaining of rheumatism, i told one of the servants to get me a potato for mr. johnson's rheumatism. "yes, ma'am," said the man; "but it must be a _stolen_ potato." i had forgotten that. well, one can't ask one's servants to steal potatoes. it is easy in the country, where you can pick one out of anybody's field.' 'and what did you do?' i asked. 'oh, i drove to covent garden and ordered a lot of fruit and flowers. while the man was not looking, i stole a potato--a very little one. i don't think there was any harm in it.' 'and did mr. johnson try the potato cure?' 'yes, he carried it in his pocket, and now he is quite well. i told the doctor, and he says he knows of the cure, but he dares not recommend it.' how oddly superstitions survive! the central idea of this modern folly about the potato is that you must pilfer the root. let us work the idea of the healing or magical herb backwards, from kensington to european folklore, and thence to classical times, to homer, and to the hottentots. turning first to germany, we note the beliefs, not about the potato, but about another vegetable, the mandrake. of all roots, in german superstition, the alraun, or mandrake, is the most famous. the herb was conceived of, in the savage fashion, as a living human person, a kind of old witch-wife. { } again, the root has a human shape. 'if a hereditary thief who has preserved his chastity gets hung,' the broad-leafed, yellow-flowered mandrake grows up, in his likeness, beneath the gallows from which he is suspended. the mandrake, like the moly, the magical herb of the odyssey, is 'hard for men to dig.' he who desires to possess a mandrake must stop his ears with wax, so that he may not hear the deathly yells which the plant utters as it is being dragged out of the earth. then before sunrise, on a friday, the amateur goes out with a dog, 'all black,' makes three crosses round the mandrake, loosens the soil about the root, ties the root to the dog's tail, and offers the beast a piece of bread. the dog runs at the bread, drags out the mandrake root, and falls dead, killed by the horrible yell of the plant. the root is now taken up, washed with wine, wrapped in silk, laid in a casket, bathed every friday, 'and clothed in a little new white smock every new moon.' the mandrake acts, if thus considerately treated, as a kind of familiar spirit. 'every piece of coin put to her over night is found doubled in the morning.' gipsy folklore, and the folklore of american children, keep this belief in doubling deposits. the gipsies use the notion in what they call 'the great trick.' some foolish rustic makes up his money in a parcel which he gives to the gipsy. the latter, after various ceremonies performed, returns the parcel, which is to be buried. the money will be found doubled by a certain date. of course when the owner unburies the parcel he finds nothing in it but brass buttons. in the same way, and with pious confidence, the american boy buries a marble in a hollow log, uttering the formula, 'what hasn't come here, _come_! what's here, _stay_ here!' and expects to find all the marbles he has ever lost. { } let us follow the belief in magical roots into the old pagan world. the ancients knew mandragora and the superstitions connected with it very well. dioscorides mentions mandragorus, or antimelon, or dircaea, or circaea, and says the egyptians call it apemoum, and pythagoras 'anthropomorphon.' in digging the root, pliny says, 'there are some ceremonies observed, first they that goe about this worke, look especially to this that the wind be not in their face, but blow upon their backs. then with the point of a sword they draw three circles round about the plant, which don, they dig it up afterwards with their face unto the west.' pliny says nothing of the fetich qualities of the plant, as credited in modern and mediaeval germany, but mentions 'sufficient it is with some bodies to cast them into sleep with the smel of mandrago.' this is like shakespeare's 'poppy and mandragora, and all the drowsy syrups of the world.' plato and demosthenes { a} also speak of mandragora as a soporific. it is more to the purpose of magic that columella mentions 'the _half-human_ mandragora.' here we touch the origin of the mandrake superstitions. the roots have a kind of fantastic resemblance to the human shape; pliny describes them as being 'of a fleshy substance and tender.' now it is one of the recognised principles in magic, that things like each other, however superficially, affect each other in a mystic way, and possess identical properties. thus, in melanesia, according to mr. codrington, { b} 'a stone in the shape of a pig, of a bread-fruit, of a yam, was a most valuable find,' because it made pigs prolific, and fertilised bread-fruit trees and yam-plots. in scotland, too, 'stones were called by the names of the limbs they resembled, as "eye-stane," "head-stane." a patient washed the affected part of his body, and rubbed it well with the stone corresponding.' { a} in precisely the same way, the mandrake root, being thought to resemble the human body, was credited with human and superhuman powers. josephus mentions { b} a plant 'not easily caught, which slips away from them that wish to gather it, and never stands still' till certain repulsive rites are performed. these rites cannot well be reported here, but they are quite familiar to red indian and to bushman magic. another way to dig the plant spoken of by josephus is by aid of the dog, as in the german superstition quoted from grimm. aelian also recommends the use of the dog to pluck the herb aglaophotis, which shines at night. { c} when the dog has dragged up the root, and died of terror, his body is to be buried on the spot with religious honours and secret sacred rites. so much for mandragora, which, like the healing potato, has to be acquired stealthily and with peril. now let us examine the homeric herb moly. the plant is thus introduced by homer: in the tenth book of the 'odyssey,' circe has turned odysseus's men into swine. he sets forth to rescue them, trusting only to his sword. the god hermes meets him, and offers him 'a charmed herb,' 'this herb of grace' ([greek]) whereby he may subdue the magic wiles of circe. the plant is described by homer with some minuteness. 'it was black at the root, but the flower was like to milk. "moly," the gods call it, but it is hard for mortal men to dig, howbeit with the gods all things are possible.' the etymologies given of 'moly' are almost as numerous as the etymologists. one derivation, from the old 'turanian' tongue of accadia, will be examined later. the scholiast offers the derivation '[greek], to make charms of no avail'; but this is exactly like professor blackie's etymological discovery that erinys is derived from [greek]: 'he might as well derive critic from criticise.' { } the scholiast adds that moly caused death to the person who dragged it out of the ground. this identification of moly with mandrake is probably based on homer's remark that moly is 'hard to dig.' the black root and white flower of moly are quite unlike the yellow flower and white fleshy root ascribed by pliny to mandrake. only confusion is caused by regarding the two magical herbs as identical. but why are any herbs or roots magical? while some scholars, like de gubernatis, seek an explanation in supposed myths about clouds and stars, it is enough for our purpose to observe that herbs really have medicinal properties, and that untutored people invariably confound medicine with magic. a plant or root is thought to possess virtue, not only when swallowed in powder or decoction, but when carried in the hand. st. john's wort and rowan berries, like the homeric moly, still 'make evil charms of none avail;' rowan, ash, and red threed keep the devils from their speed, says the scotch rhyme. any fanciful resemblance of leaf or flower or root to a portion of the human body, any analogy based on colour, will give a plant reputation for magical virtues. this habit of mind survives from the savage condition. the hottentots are great herbalists. like the greeks, like the germans, they expect supernatural aid from plants and roots. mr. hahn, in his 'tsui goam, the supreme being of the khoi khoi' (p. ), gives the following examples:-- dapper, in his description of africa, p. , tells us:--'some of them wear round the neck roots, which they find far inland, in rivers, and being on a journey they light them in a fire or chew them, if they must sleep the night out in the field. they believe that these roots keep off the wild animals. the roots they chew are spit out around the spot where they encamp for the night; and in a similar way if they set the roots alight, they blow the smoke and ashes about, believing that the smell will keep the wild animals off. i had often occasion to observe the practice of these superstitious ceremonies, especially when we were in a part of the country where we heard the roaring of the lions, or had the day previously met with the footprints of the king of the beasts. the korannas also have these roots as safeguards with them. if a commando (a warlike expedition) goes out, every man will put such roots in his pockets and in the pouch where he keeps his bullets, believing that the arrows or bullets of the enemy have no effect, but that his own bullets will surely kill the enemy. and also before they lie down to sleep, they set these roots alight, and murmur, 'my grandfather's root, bring sleep on the eyes of the lion and leopard and the hyena. make them blind, that they cannot find us, and cover their noses, that they cannot smell us out.' also, if they have carried off large booty, or stolen cattle of the enemy, they light these roots and say: 'we thank thee, our grandfather's root, that thou hast given us cattle to eat. let the enemy sleep, and lead him on the wrong track, that he may not follow us until we have safely escaped.' another sort of shrub is called abib. herdsmen, especially, carry pieces of its wood as charms, and if cattle or sheep have gone astray, they burn a piece of it in the fire, that the wild animals may not destroy them. and they believe that the cattle remain safe until they can be found the next morning. schweinfurth found the same belief in magic herbs and roots among the bongoes and niam niams in 'the heart of africa.' the bongoes believe, like the homeric greeks, that 'certain roots ward off the evil influences of spirits.' like the german amateurs of the mandrake, they assert that 'there is no other resource for obtaining communication with spirits, except by means of certain roots' (i. ). our position is that the english magical potato, the german mandrake, the greek moly, are all survivals from a condition of mind like that in which the hottentots still pray to roots. now that we have brought mandragora and moly into connection with the ordinary magical superstitions of savage peoples, let us see what is made of the subject by another method. mr. r. brown, the learned and industrious author of 'the great dionysiak myth,' has investigated the traditions about the homeric moly. he first { } 'turns to aryan philology.' many guesses at the etymology of 'moly' have been made. curtius suggests [greek], akin to [greek], 'soft.' this does not suit mr. brown, who, to begin with, is persuaded that the herb is not a magical herb, sans phrase, like those which the hottentots use, but that the basis of the myth 'is simply the effect of night upon the world of day.' now, as moly is a name in use among the gods, mr. brown thinks 'we may fairly examine the hypothesis of a foreign origin of the term.' anyone who holds that certain greek gods were borrowed from abroad, may be allowed to believe that the gods used foreign words, and, as mr. brown points out, there are foreign elements in various homeric names of imported articles, peoples, persons, and so forth. where, then, is a foreign word like moly, which might have reached homer? by a long process of research, mr. brown finds his word in ancient 'akkadian.' from professor sayce he borrows a reference to apuleius barbarus, about whose life nothing is known, and whose date is vague. apuleius barbarus may have lived about four centuries after our era, and _he_ says that 'wild rue was called moly by the cappadocians.' rue, like rosemary, and indeed like most herbs, has its magical repute, and if we supposed that homer's moly was rue, there would be some interest in the knowledge. rue was called 'herb of grace' in english, holy water was sprinkled with it, and the name is a translation of homer's [greek]. perhaps rue was used in sprinkling, because in pre-christian times rue had, by itself, power against sprites and powers of evil. our ancestors may have thought it as well to combine the old charm of rue and the new christian potency of holy water. thus there would be a distinct analogy between homeric moly and english 'herb of grace.' 'euphrasy and rue' were employed to purge and purify mortal eyes. pliny is very learned about the magical virtues of rue. just as the stolen potato is sovran for rheumatism, so 'rue stolen thriveth the best.' the samoans think that their most valued vegetables were stolen from heaven by a samoan visitor. { a} it is remarkable that rue, according to pliny, is killed by the touch of a woman in the same way as, according to josephus, the mandrake is tamed. { b} these passages prove that the classical peoples had the same extraordinary superstitions about women as the bushmen and red indians. indeed pliny { c} describes a magical manner of defending the crops from blight, by aid of women, which is actually practised in america by the red men. { d} here, then, are proofs enough that rue was magical outside of cappadocia. but this is not an argument on mr. brown's lines. the cappadocians called rue 'moly'; what language, he asks, was spoken by the cappadocians? prof. sayce (who knows so many tongues) says that 'we know next to nothing of the language of the cappadocians, or of the moschi who lived in the same locality.' but where prof. sayce is, the hittites, if we may say so respectfully, are not very far off. in this case he thinks the moschi (though he admits we know next to nothing about it) 'seem to have spoken a language allied to that of the cappadocians and hittites.' that is to say, it is not impossible that the language of the moschi, about which next to nothing is known, may have been allied to that of the cappadocians, about which we know next to nothing. all that we do know in this case is, that four hundred years after christ the dwellers in cappadocia employed a word 'moly,' which had been greek for at least twelve hundred years. but mr. brown goes on to quote that one of the languages of which we know next to nothing, hittite, was 'probably allied to proto-armenian, and perhaps lykian, and was above all not semitic.' in any case 'the cuneiform mode of writing was used in cappadocia at an early period.' as even professor sayce declines to give more than a tentative reading of a cappadocian cuneiform inscription, it seems highly rash to seek in this direction for an interpretation of a homeric word 'moly,' used in cappadocia very many centuries after the tablets were scratched. but, on the evidence of the babylonian character of the cuneiform writing on cappadocian tablets, mr. brown establishes a connection between the people of accadia (who probably introduced the cuneiform style) and the people of cappadocia. the connection amounts to this. twelve hundred years after homer, the inhabitants of cappadocia are said to have called rue 'moly.' at some unknown period, the accadians appear to have influenced the art of writing in cappadocia. apparently mr. brown thinks it not too rash to infer that the cappadocian use of the word 'moly' is not derived from the greeks, but from the accadians. now in accadian, according to mr. brown, mul means 'star.' 'hence ulu or mulu = [greek], the mysterious homerik counter-charm to the charms of kirke' (p. ). mr. brown's theory, therefore, is that moly originally meant 'star.' circe is the moon, odysseus is the sun, and 'what _watches over_ the solar hero at night when exposed to the hostile lunar power, but the stars?' especially the dog-star. the truth is, that homer's moly, whatever plant he meant by the name, is only one of the magical herbs in which most peoples believe or have believed. like the scottish rowan, or like st. john's wort, it is potent against evil influences. people have their own simple reasons for believing in these plants, and have not needed to bring down their humble, early botany from the clouds and stars. we have to imagine, on the other hand (if we follow mr. brown), that in some unknown past the cappadocians turned the accadian word for a star into a local name of a plant, that this word reached homer, that the supposed old accadian myth of the star which watches over the solar hero retained its vitality in greek, and leaving the star clung to the herb, that homer used an 'akkado- kappadokian' myth, and that, many ages after, the accadian star-name in its perverted sense of 'rue' survived in cappadocia. this structure of argument is based on tablets which even prof. sayce cannot read, and on possibilities about the alliances of tongues concerning which we 'know next to nothing.' a method which leaves on one side the common, natural, widely-diffused beliefs about the magic virtue of herbs (beliefs which we have seen at work in kensington and in central africa), to hunt for moly among stars and undeciphered kappadokian inscriptions, seems a dubious method. we have examined it at full length because it is a specimen of an erudite, but, as we think, a mistaken way in folklore. m. halevy's warnings against the shifting mythical theories based on sciences so new as the lore of assyria and 'akkadia' are by no means superfluous. 'akkadian' is rapidly become as ready a key to all locks as 'aryan' was a few years ago. 'kalevala'; or, the finnish national epic. it is difficult to account for the fact that the scientific curiosity which is just now so busy in examining all the monuments of the primitive condition of our race, should, in england at least, have almost totally neglected to popularise the 'kalevala,' or national poem of the finns. besides its fresh and simple beauty of style, its worth as a storehouse of every kind of primitive folklore, being as it is the production of an urvolk, a nation that has undergone no violent revolution in language or institutions--the 'kalevala' has the peculiar interest of occupying a position between the two kinds of primitive poetry, the ballad and the epic. so much difficulty has been introduced into the study of the first developments of song, by confusing these distinct sorts of composition under the name of popular poetry, that it may be well, in writing of a poem which occupies a middle place between epic and ballad, to define what we mean by each. the author of our old english 'art of poesie' begins his work with a statement which may serve as a text: 'poesie,' says puttenham, writing in , 'is more ancient than the artificiall of the greeks and latines, coming by instinct of nature, and used by the savage and uncivill, who were before all science and civilitie. this is proved by certificate of merchants and travellers, who by late navigations have surveyed the whole world, and discovered large countries, and strange people, wild and savage, affirming that the american, the perusine, and the very canniball, do sing, and also say, their highest and holiest matters in certain riming versicles.' puttenham is here referring to that instinct of primitive men, which compels them in all moments of high-wrought feeling, and on all solemn occasions, to give utterance to a kind of chant. { a} such a chant is the song of lamech, when he had 'slain a man to his wounding.' so in the norse sagas, grettir and gunnar _sing_ when they have anything particular to say; and so in the marchen--the primitive fairy tales of all nations--scraps of verse are introduced where emphasis is wanted. this craving for passionate expression takes a more formal shape in the lays which, among all primitive peoples, as among the modern greeks to-day, { b} are sung at betrothals, funerals, and departures for distant lands. these songs have been collected in scotland by scott and motherwell; their danish counterparts have been translated by mr. prior. in greece, m. fauriel and dr. ulrichs; in provence, damase arbaud; in italy, m. nigra; in servia, talvj; in france, gerard de nerval--have done for their separate countries what scott did for the border. professor child, of harvard, is publishing a beautiful critical collection of english volkslieder, with all known variants from every country. a comparison of the collections proves that among all european lands the primitive 'versicles' of the people are identical in tone, form, and incident. it is this kind of early expression of a people's life--careless, abrupt, brief, as was necessitated by the fact that they were sung to the accompaniment of the dance--that we call ballads. these are distinctly, and in every sense, popular poems, and nothing can cause greater confusion than to apply the same title, 'popular,' to early epic poetry. ballads are short; a long ballad, as mr. matthew arnold has said, creeps and halts. a true epic, on the other hand, is long, and its tone is grand, noble, and sustained. ballads are not artistic; while the form of the epic, whether we take the hexameter or the rougher laisse of the french chansons de geste, is full of conscious and admirable art. lastly, popular ballads deal with vague characters, acting and living in vague places; while the characters of an epic are heroes of definite station, _whose descendants are still in the land_, whose home is a recognisable place, ithaca, or argos. now, though these two kinds of early poetry--the ballad, the song of the people; the epic, the song of the chiefs of the people, of the ruling race--are distinct in kind, it does not follow that they have no connection, that the nobler may not have been developed out of the materials of the lower form of expression. and the value of the 'kalevala' is partly this, that it combines the continuity and unison of the epic with the simplicity and popularity of the ballad, and so forms a kind of link in the history of the development of poetry. this may become clearer as we proceed to explain the literary history of the finnish national poem. sixty years ago, it may be said, no one was aware that finland possessed a national poem at all. her people--who claim affinity with the magyars of hungary, but are possibly a back-wave of an earlier tide of population--had remained untouched by foreign influences since their conquest by sweden, and their somewhat lax and wholesale conversion to christianity: events which took place gradually between the middle of the twelfth and the end of the thirteenth centuries. under the rule of sweden, the finns were left to their quiet life and undisturbed imaginings, among the forests and lakes of the region which they aptly called pohja, 'the end of things'; while their educated classes took no very keen interest in the native poetry and mythology of their race. at length the annexation of finland by russia, in , awakened national feeling, and stimulated research into the songs and customs which were the heirlooms of the people. it was the policy of russia to encourage, rather than to check, this return on a distant past; and from the north of norway to the slopes of the altai, ardent explorers sought out the fragments of unwritten early poetry. these runes, or runots, were chiefly sung by old men called runoias, to beguile the weariness of the long dark winters. the custom was for two champions to engage in a contest of memory, clasping each other's hands, and reciting in turn till he whose memory first gave in slackened his hold. the 'kalevala' contains an instance of this practice, where it is said that no one was so hardy as to clasp hands with wainamoinen, who is at once the orpheus and the prometheus of finnish mythology. these runoias, or rhapsodists, complain, of course, of the degeneracy of human memory; they notice how any foreign influence, in religion or politics, is destructive to the native songs of a race. { } 'as for the lays of old time, a thousand have been scattered to the wind, a thousand buried in the snow; . . . as for those which the munks (the teutonic knights) swept away, and the prayer of the priest overwhelmed, a thousand tongues were not able to recount them.' in spite of the losses thus caused, and in spite of the suspicious character of the finns, which often made the task of collection a dangerous one, enough materials remained to furnish dr. lonnrot, the most noted explorer, with thirty-five runots, or cantos. these were published in , but later research produced the fifteen cantos which make up the symmetrical fifty of the 'kalevala.' in the task of arranging and uniting these, dr. lonnrot played the part traditionally ascribed to the commission of pisistratus in relation to the 'iliad' and 'odyssey.' dr. lonnrot is said to have handled with singular fidelity the materials which now come before us as one poem, not absolutely without a certain unity and continuous thread of narrative. it is this unity (so faint compared with that of the 'iliad' and 'odyssey') which gives the 'kalevala' a claim to the title of epic. it cannot be doubted that, at whatever period the homeric poems took shape in greece, they were believed to record the feats of the supposed ancestors of existing families. thus, for example, pisistratus, as a descendant of the nelidae, had an interest in securing certain parts, at least, of the 'iliad' and the 'odyssey' from oblivion. the same family pride embellished and preserved the epic poetry of early france. there were in france but three heroic houses, or gestes; and three corresponding cycles of epopees. now, in the 'kalevala,' there is no trace of the influence of family feeling; it was no one's peculiar care and pride to watch over the records of the fame of this or that hero. the poem begins with a cosmogony as wild as any indian dream of creation; and the human characters who move in the story are shadowy inhabitants of no very definite lands, whom no family claim as their forefathers. the very want of this idea of family and aristocratic pride gives the 'kalevala' a unique place among epics. it is emphatically an epic of the people, of that class whose life contains no element of progress, no break in continuity; which from age to age preserves, in solitude and close communion with nature, the earliest beliefs of grey antiquity. the greek epic, on the other hand, has, as m. preller { } points out, 'nothing to do with natural man, but with an ideal world of heroes, with sons of the gods, with consecrated kings, heroes, elders, _a kind of specific race of men_. the people exist only as subsidiary to the great houses, as a mere background against which stand out the shining figures of heroes; as a race of beings fresh and rough from the hands of nature, with whom, and with whose concerns, the great houses and their bards have little concern.' this feeling--so universal in greece, and in the feudal countries of mediaeval europe, that there are two kinds of men, the golden and the brazen race, as plato would have called them--is absent, with all its results, in the 'kalevala.' among the finns we find no trace of an aristocracy; there is scarcely a mention of kings, or priests; the heroes of the poem are really popular heroes, fishers, smiths, husbandmen, 'medicine-men,' or wizards; exaggerated shadows of the people, pursuing on a heroic scale, not war, but the common daily business of primitive and peaceful men. in recording their adventures, the 'kalevala,' like the shield of achilles, reflects all the life of a race, the feasts, the funerals, the rites of seed-time and harvest of marriage and death, the hymn, and the magical incantation. were this all, the epic would only have the value of an exhaustive collection of the popular ballads which, as we have seen, are a poetical record of the intenser moments in the existence of unsophisticated tribes. but the 'kalevala' is distinguished from such a collection, by presenting the ballads as they are produced by the events of a continuous narrative, and thus it takes a distinct place between the aristocratic epics of greece, or of the franks, and the scattered songs which have been collected in scotland, sweden, denmark, greece, and italy. besides the interest of its unique position as a popular epic, the 'kalevala' is very valuable, both for its literary beauties and for the confused mass of folklore which it contains. here old cosmogonies, attempts of man to represent to himself the beginning of things, are mingled with the same wild imaginings as are found everywhere in the shape of fairy-tales. we are hurried from an account of the mystic egg of creation, to a hymn like that of the ambarval brothers, to a strangely familiar scrap of a nursery story, to an incident which we remember as occurring in almost identical words in a scotch ballad. we are among a people which endows everything with human characters and life, which is in familiar relations with birds, and beasts, and even with rocks and plants. ravens and wolves and fishes of the sea, sun, moon, and stars, are kindly or churlish; drops of blood find speech, man and maid change to snake or swan and resume their forms, ships have magic powers, like the ships of the phaeacians. then there is the oddest confusion of every stage of religious development: we find a supreme god, delighting in righteousness; ukko, the lord of the vault of air, who stands apart from men, and sends his son, wainamoinen, to be their teacher in music and agriculture. across this faith comes a religion of petrified abstractions like those of the roman pantheon. there are gods of colour, a goddess of weaving, a goddess of man's blood, besides elemental spirits of woods and waters, and the manes of the dead. meanwhile, the working faith of the people is the belief in magic--generally a sign of the lower culture. it is supposed that the knowledge of certain magic words gives power over the elemental bodies which obey them; it is held that the will of a distant sorcerer can cross the lakes and plains like the breath of a fantastic frost, with power to change an enemy to ice or stone. traces remain of the worship of animals: there is a hymn to the bear; a dance like the bear-dance of the american indians; and another hymn tells of the birth and power of the serpent. across all, and closing all, comes a hostile account of the origin of christianity--the end of joy and music. how primitive was the condition of the authors of this medley of beliefs is best proved by the survival of the custom called exogamy. { a} this custom, which is not peculiar to the finns, but is probably a universal note of early society, prohibits marriage between members of the same tribe. consequently, the main action, such as it is, of the 'kalevala' turns on the efforts made by the men of kaleva to obtain brides from the hostile tribe of pohja. { b} further proof of ancient origin is to be found in what is the great literary beauty of the poem--its pure spontaneity and simplicity. it is the production of an intensely imaginative race, to which song came as the most natural expression of joy and sorrow, terror or triumph--a class which lay near to nature's secret, and was not out of sympathy with the wild kin of woods and waters. 'these songs,' says the prelude, 'were found by the wayside, and gathered in the depths of the copses; blown from the branches of the forest, and culled among the plumes of the pine-trees. these lays came to me as i followed the flocks, in a land of meadows honey-sweet, and of golden hills. . . . the cold has spoken to me, and the rain has told me her runes; the winds of heaven, the waves of the sea, have spoken and sung to me; the wild birds have taught me, the music of many waters has been my master.' the metre in which the epic is chanted resembles, to an english ear, that of mr. longfellow's 'hiawatha'--there is assonance rather than rhyme; and a very musical effect is produced by the liquid character of the language, and by the frequent alliterations. this rough outline of the main characteristics of the 'kalevala' we shall now try to fill up with an abstract of its contents. the poem is longer than the 'iliad,' and much of interest must necessarily be omitted; but it is only through such an abstract that any idea can be given of the sort of unity which does prevail amid the most utter discrepancy. in the first place, what is to be understood by the word 'kalevala'? the affix la signifies 'abode.' thus, 'tuonela' is 'the abode of tuoni,' the god of the lower world; and as 'kaleva' means 'heroic,' 'magnificent,' 'kalevala' is 'the home of heroes.' the poem is the record of the adventures of the people of kalevala--of their strife with the men of pohjola, the place of the world's end. we may fancy two old runoias, or singers, clasping hands on one of the first nights of the finnish winter, and beginning (what probably has never been accomplished) the attempt to work through the 'kalevala' before the return of summer. they commence ab ovo, or, rather, before the egg. first is chanted the birth of wainamoinen, the benefactor and teacher of men. he is the son of luonnotar, the daughter of nature, who answers to the first woman of the iroquois cosmogony. beneath the breath and touch of wind and tide, she conceived a child; but nine ages of man passed before his birth, while the mother floated on 'the formless and the multiform waters.' then ukko, the supreme god, sent an eagle, which laid her eggs in the maiden's bosom, and from these eggs grew earth and sky, sun and moon, star and cloud. then was wainamoinen born on the waters, and reached a barren land, and gazed on the new heavens and the new earth. there he sowed the grain that is the bread of man, chanting the hymn used at seed-time, calling on the mother earth to make the green herb spring, and on ukko to send clouds and rain. so the corn sprang, and the golden cuckoo--which in finland plays the part of the popinjay in scotch ballads, or of the three golden birds in greek folksongs--came with his congratulations. in regard to the epithet 'golden,' it may be observed that gold and silver, in the finnish epic, are lavished on the commonest objects of daily life. this is a universal note of primitive poetry, and is not a peculiar finnish idiom, as m. leouzon le duc supposes; nor, as mr. tozer seems to think, in his account of romaic ballads, a trace of oriental influence among the modern greeks. it is common to all the ballads of europe, as m. ampere has pointed out, and may be observed in the 'chanson de roland,' and in homer. while the corn ripened, wainamoinen rested from his labours, and took the task of orpheus. 'he sang,' says the 'kalevala,' of the origin of things, of the mysteries hidden from babes, that none may attain to in this sad life, in the hours of these perishable days. the fame of the runoia's singing excited jealousy in the breast of one of the men around him, of whose origin the 'kalevala' gives no account. this man, joukahainen, provoked him to a trial of song, boasting, like empedocles, or like one of the old celtic bards, that he had been all things. 'when the earth was made i was there; when space was unrolled i launched the sun on his way.' then was wainamoinen wroth, and by the force of his enchantment he rooted joukahainen to the ground, and suffered him not to go free without promising him the hand of his sister aino. the mother was delighted; but the girl wept that she must now cover her long locks, her curls, her glory, and be the wife of 'the old imperturbable wainamoinen.' it is in vain that her mother offers her dainty food and rich dresses; she flees from home, and wanders till she meets three maidens bathing, and joins them, and is drowned, singing a sad song: 'ah, never may my sister come to bathe in the sea-water, for the drops of the sea are the drops of my blood.' this wild idea occurs in the romaic ballad, [greek], where a drop of blood on the lips of the drowned girl tinges all the waters of the world. to return to the fate of aino. a swift hare runs (as in the zulu legend of the origin of death) with the tale of sorrow to the maiden's mother, and from the mother's tears flow rivers of water, and therein are isles with golden hills where golden birds make melody. as for the old, the imperturbable runoia, he loses his claim to the latter title, he is filled with sorrow, and searches through all the elements for his lost bride. at length he catches a fish which is unknown to him, who, like atlas, 'knew the depths of all the seas.' the strange fish slips from his hands, a 'tress of hair, of drowned maiden's hair,' floats for a moment on the foam, and too late he recognises that 'there was never salmon yet that shone so fair, above the nets at sea.' his lost bride has been within his reach, and now is doubly lost to him. suddenly the waves are cloven asunder, and the mother of nature and of wainamoinen appears, to comfort her son, like thetis from the deep. she bids him go and seek, in the land of pohjola, a bride alien to his race. after many a wild adventure, wainamoinen reaches pohjola and is kindly entreated by loutri, the mother of the maiden of the land. but he grows homesick, and complains, almost in dante's words, of the bitter bread of exile. loutri will only grant him her daughter's hand on condition that he gives her a sampo. a sampo is a mysterious engine that grinds meal, salt, and money. in fact, it is the mill in the well-known fairy tale, 'why the sea is salt.' { } wainamoinen cannot fashion this mill himself, he must seek aid at home from ilmarinen, the smith who forged 'the iron vault of hollow heaven.' as the hero returns to kalevala, he meets the lady of the rainbow, seated on the arch of the sky, weaving the golden thread. she promises to be his, if he will accomplish certain tasks, and in the course of those he wounds himself with an axe. the wound can only be healed by one who knows the mystic words that hold the secret of the birth of iron. the legend of this evil birth, how iron grew from the milk of a maiden, and was forged by the primeval smith, ilmarinen, to be the bane of warlike men, is communicated by wainamoinen to an old magician. the wizard then solemnly curses the iron, _as a living thing_, and invokes the aid of the supreme god ukko, thus bringing together in one prayer the extremes of early religion. then the hero is healed, and gives thanks to the creator, 'in whose hands is the end of a matter.' returning to kalevala, wainamoinen sends ilmarinen to pohjola to make the sampo, 'a mill for corn one day, for salt the next, for money the next.' the fatal treasure is concealed by loutri, and is obviously to play the part of the fairy hoard in the 'nibelungen lied.' with the eleventh canto a new hero, ahti, or lemminkainen, and a new cycle of adventures, is abruptly introduced. lemminkainen is a profligate wanderer, with as many loves as hercules. the fact that he is regarded as a form of the sea-god makes it strange that his most noted achievement, the seduction of the whole female population of his island, should correspond with a like feat of krishna's. 'sixteen thousand and one hundred,' says the vishnu purana, 'was the number of the maidens; and into so many forms did the son of madhu multiply himself, so that every one of the damsels thought that he had wedded her in her single person.' krishna is the sun, of course, and the maidens are the dew-drops; { } it is to be hoped that lemminkainen's connection with sea-water may save him from the solar hypothesis. his first regular marriage is unhappy, and he is slain in trying to capture a bride from the people of pohjola. the black waters of the river of forgetfulness sweep him away, and his comb, which he left with his mother, bursts out bleeding--a frequent incident in russian and other fairy tales. in many household tales, the hero, before setting out on a journey, erects a stick which will fall down when he is in distress, or death. the natives of australia use this form of divination in actual practice, tying round the stick some of the hair of the person whose fate is to be ascertained. then, like demeter seeking persephone, the mother questions all the beings of the world, and their answers show a wonderful poetic sympathy with the silent life of nature. 'the moon said, i have sorrows enough of my own, without thinking of thy child. my lot is hard, my days are evil. i am born to wander companionless in the night, to shine in the season of frost, to watch through the endless winter, to fade when summer comes as king.' the sun is kinder, and reveals the place of the hero's body. the mother collects the scattered limbs, the birds bring healing balm from the heights of heaven, and after a hymn to the goddess of man's blood, lemminkainen is made sound and well, as the scattered 'fragments of no more a man' were united by the spell of medea, like those of osiris by isis, or of the fair countess by the demon blacksmith in the russian marchen, or of the carib hero mentioned by mr. mclennan, { } or of the ox in the south african household tale. with the sixteenth canto we return to wainamoinen, who, like all epic heroes, visits the place of the dead, tuonela. the maidens who play the part of charon are with difficulty induced to ferry over a man bearing no mark of death by fire or sword or water. once among the dead, wainamoinen refuses--being wiser than psyche or persephone--to taste of drink. this 'taboo' is found in japanese, melanesian, and red indian accounts of the homes of the dead. thus the hero is able to return and behold the stars. arrived in the upper world, he warns men to 'beware of perverting innocence, of leading astray the pure of heart; they that do these things shall be punished eternally in the depths of tuoni. there is a place prepared for evil-doers, a bed of stones burning, rocks of fire, worms and serpents.' this speech throws but little light on the question of how far a doctrine of rewards and punishments enters into primitive ideas of a future state. the 'kalevala,' as we possess it, is necessarily, though faintly, tinged with christianity; and the peculiar vices which are here threatened with punishment are not those which would have been most likely to occur to the early heathen singers of this runot. wainamoinen and ilmarinen now go together to pohjola, but the fickle maiden of the land prefers the young forger of the sampo to his elder and imperturbable companion. like a northern medea, or like the master-maid in dr. dasent's 'tales from the norse,' or like the hero of the algonquin tale and the samoan ballad, she aids her alien lover to accomplish the tasks assigned to him. he ploughs with a plough of gold the adder-close, or field of serpents; he bridles the wolf and the bear of the lower world, and catches the pike that swim in the waters of forgetfulness. after this, the parents cannot refuse their consent, the wedding-feast is prepared, and all the world, except the seduisant lemminkainen, is bidden to the banquet. the narrative now brings in the ballads that are sung at a finnish marriage. first, the son-in-law enters the house of the parents of the bride, saying, 'peace abide with you in this illustrious hall.' the mother answers, 'peace be with you even in this lowly hut.' then wainamoinen began to sing, and no man was so hardy as to clasp hands and contend with him in song. next follow the songs of farewell, the mother telling the daughter of what she will have to endure in a strange home: 'thy life was soft and delicate in thy father's house. milk and butter were ready to thy hand; thou wert as a flower of the field, as a strawberry of the wood; all care was left to the pines of the forest, all wailing to the wind in the woods of barren lands. but now thou goest to another home, to an alien mother, to doors that grate strangely on their hinges.' 'my thoughts,' the maiden replies, 'are as a dark night of autumn, as a cloudy day of winter; my heart is sadder than the autumn night, more weary than the winter day.' the maid and the bridegroom are then lyrically instructed in their duties: the girl is to be long-suffering, the husband to try five years' gentle treatment before he cuts a willow wand for his wife's correction. the bridal party sets out for home, a new feast is spread, and the bridegroom congratulated on the courage he must have shown in stealing a girl from a hostile tribe. while all is merry, the mischievous lemminkainen sets out, an unbidden guest, for pohjola. on his way he encounters a serpent, which he slays by the song of serpent-charming. in this 'mystic chain of verse' the serpent is not addressed as the gentle reptile, god of southern peoples, but is spoken of with all hatred and loathing: 'black creeping thing of the low lands, monster flecked with the colours of death, thou that hast on thy skin the stain of the sterile soil, get thee forth from the path of a hero.' after slaying the serpent, lemminkainen reaches pohjola, kills one of his hosts, and fixes his head on one of a thousand stakes for human skulls that stood about the house, as they might round the hut of a dyak in borneo. he then flees to the isle of saari, whence he is driven for his heroic profligacy, and by the hatred of the only girl whom he has _not_ wronged. this is a very pretty touch of human nature. he now meditates a new incursion into pohjola. the mother of pohjola (it is just worth noticing that the leadership assumed by this woman points to a state of society when the family was scarcely formed) calls to her aid 'her child the frost;' but the frost is put to shame by a hymn of the invader's, a song against the cold: 'the serpent was his foster-mother, the serpent with her barren breasts; the wind of the north rocked his cradle, and the ice-wind sang him to sleep, in the midst of the wild marsh-land, where the wells of the waters begin.' it is a curious instance of the animism, the vivid power of personifying all the beings and forces of nature, which marks the 'kalevala,' that the cold speaks to lemminkainen in human voice, and seeks a reconciliation. at this part of the epic there is an obvious lacuna. the story goes to kullervo, a luckless man, who serves as shepherd to ilmarinen. thinking himself ill-treated by the heroic smith's wife, the shepherd changes his flock into bears and wolves, which devour their mistress. then he returns to his own home, where he learns that his sister has been lost for many days, and is believed to be dead. travelling in search of her he meets a girl, loves her, and all unwittingly commits an inexpiable offence. 'then,' says the 'kalevala,' 'came up the new dawn, and the maiden spoke, saying, "what is thy race, bold young man, and who is thy father?" kullervo said, "i am the wretched son of kalerva; but tell me, what is thy race, and who is thy father?" then said the maiden, "i am the wretched daughter of kalerva. ah! would god that i had died, then might i have grown with the green grass, and blossomed with the flowers, and never known this sorrow." with this she sprang into the midst of the foaming waves, and found peace in tuoni, and rest in the waters of forgetfulness.' then there was no word for kullervo, but the bitter moan of the brother in the terrible scotch ballad of the bonny hind, and no rest but in death by his own sword, where grass grows never on his sister's tomb. the epic now draws to a close. ilmarinen seeks a new wife in pohja, and endeavours with wainamoinen's help to recover the mystic sampo. on the voyage, the runoia makes a harp out of the bones of a monstrous fish, so strange a harp that none may play it but himself. when he played, all four-footed things came about him, and the white birds dropped down 'like a storm of snow.' the maidens of the sun and the moon paused in their weaving, and the golden thread fell from their hands. the ancient one of the sea-water listened, and the nymphs of the wells forgot to comb their loose locks with the golden combs. all men and maidens and little children wept, amid the silent joy of nature; nay, the great harper wept, and _of his tears were pearls made_. in the war with pohjola the heroes were victorious, but the sampo was broken in the fight, and lost in the sea, and that, perhaps, is 'why the sea is salt.' fragments were collected, however, and loutri, furious at the success of the heroes of kalevala, sent against them a bear, destructive as the boar of calydon. but wainamoinen despatched the monster, and the body was brought home with the bear-dance, and the hymn of the bear. 'oh, otso,' cry the singers, 'be not angry that we come near thee. the bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in lands between sun and moon, and he died not by men's hands, but of his own will.' the finnish savants are probably right, who find here a trace of the beast- worship which in many lands has placed the bear among the number of the stars. propitiation of the bear is practised by red indians, by the ainos of japan, and (in the case of the 'native bear') by australians. the red indians have a myth to prove that the bear is immortal, does not die, but, after his apparent death, rises again in another body. there is no trace, however, that the finns claimed, like the danes, descent from the bear. the lapps, a people of confused belief, worshipped him along with thor, christ, the sun, and the serpent. { } but another cult, an alien creed, is approaching kalevala. there is no part of the epic more strange than the closing canto, which tells in the wildest language, and through the most exaggerated forms of savage imagination, the tale of the introduction of christianity. marjatta was a maiden, 'as pure as the dew is, as holy as stars are that live without stain.' as she fed her flocks, and listened to the singing of the golden cuckoo, a berry fell into her bosom. after many days she bore a child, and the people despised and rejected her, and she was thrust forth, and her babe was born in a stable, and cradled in the manger. who should baptize the babe? the god of the wilderness refused, and wainamoinen would have had the young child slain. then the infant rebuked the ancient demigod, who fled in anger to the sea, and with his magic song he built a magic barque, and he sat therein, and took the helm in his hand. the tide bore him out to sea, and he lifted his voice and sang: 'times go by, and suns shall rise and set, and then shall men have need of me, and shall look for the promise of my coming that i may make a new sampo, and a new harp, and bring back sunlight and moonshine, and the joy that is banished from the world.' then he crossed the waters, and gained the limits of the sea, and the lower spaces of the sky. here the strange poem ends at its strangest moment, with the cry, which must have been uttered so often, but is heard here alone, of a people reluctantly deserting the gods that it has fashioned in its own likeness, for a faith that has not sprung from its needs or fears. yet it cherishes the hope that this tyranny shall pass over: 'they are gods, and behold they shall die, and the waves be upon them at last.' as the 'kalevala,' and as all relics of folklore, all marchen and ballads prove, the lower mythology--the elemental beliefs of the people--do survive beneath a thin covering of christian conformity. there are, in fact, in religion, as in society, two worlds, of which the one does not know how the other lives. the class whose literature we inherit, under whose institutions we live, at whose shrines we worship, has changed as outworn raiment its manners, its gods, its laws; has looked before and after, has hoped and forgotten, has advanced from the wilder and grosser to the purest faith. beneath the progressive class, and beneath the waves of this troublesome world, there exists an order whose primitive form of human life has been far less changeful, a class which has put on a mere semblance of new faiths, while half-consciously retaining the remains of immemorial cults. obviously, as m. fauriel has pointed out in the case of the modern greeks, the life of such folk contains no element of progress, admits no break in continuity. conquering armies pass and leave them still reaping the harvest of field and river; religions appear, and they are baptized by thousands, but the lower beliefs and dreads that the progressive class has outgrown remain unchanged. thus, to take the instance of modern greece, the high gods of the divine race of achilles and agamemnon are forgotten, but the descendants of the penestae, the villeins of thessaly, still dread the beings of the popular creed, the nereids, the cyclopes, and the lamia. { } the last lesson we would attempt to gather from the 'kalevala' is this: that a comparison of the _thoroughly popular_ beliefs of all countries, the beliefs cherished by the non-literary classes whose ballads and fairy tales have only recently been collected, would probably reveal a general identity, concealed by diversity of name, among the 'lesser people of the skies,' the elves, fairies, cyclopes, giants, nereids, brownies, lamiae. it could then be shown that some of these spirits survive among the lower beings of the mythology of what the germans call a cultur-volk like the greeks or romans. it could also be proved that much of the narrative element in the classic epics is to be found in a popular or childish form in primitive fairy tales. the question would then come to be, have the higher mythologies been developed, by artistic poets, out of the materials of a race which remained comparatively untouched by culture; or are the lower spirits, and the more simple and puerile forms of myth, degradations of the inventions of a cultivated class? the divining rod. there is something remarkable, and not flattering to human sagacity, in the periodical resurrection of superstitions. houses, for example, go on being 'haunted' in country districts, and no educated man notices the circumstance. then comes a case like that of the drummer of tedworth, or the cock lane ghost, and society is deeply moved, philosophers plunge into controversy, and he who grubs among the dusty tracts of the past finds a world of fugitive literature on forgotten bogies. chairs move untouched by human hands, and tables walk about in lonely castles of savoy, and no one marks them, till a day comes when the furniture of some american cottage is similarly afflicted, and then a shoddy new religion is based on the phenomenon. the latest revival among old beliefs is faith in the divining rod. 'our liberal shepherds give it a _shorter_ name,' and so do our conservative peasants, calling the 'rod of jacob' the 'twig.' to 'work the twig' is rural english for the craft of dousterswivel in the 'antiquary,' and perhaps from this comes our slang expression to 'twig,' or divine, the hidden meaning of another. recent correspondence in the newspapers has proved that, whatever may be the truth about the 'twig,' belief in its powers is still very prevalent. respectable people are not ashamed to bear signed witness of its miraculous powers of detecting springs of water and secret mines. it is habitually used by the miners in the mendips, as mr. woodward found ten years ago; and forked hazel divining rods from the mendips are a recognised part of ethnological collections. there are two ways of investigating the facts or fancies about the rod. one is to examine it in its actual operation--a task of considerable labour, which will doubtless be undertaken by the society for psychical research; the other, and easier, way is to study the appearances of the divining wand in history, and that is what we propose to do in this article. when a superstition or belief is widely spread in europe, as the faith in the divining rod certainly is (in germany rods are hidden under babies' clothes when they are baptized), we naturally expect to find traces of it in ancient times and among savages all over the modern world. we have already examined, in 'the bull-roarer,' a very similar example. we saw that there is a magical instrument--a small fish-shaped piece of thin flat wood tied to a thong--which, when whirled in the air, produces a strange noise, a compound of roar and buzz. this instrument is sacred among the natives of australia, where it is used to call together the men, and to frighten away the women from the religious mysteries of the males. the same instrument is employed for similar purposes in new mexico, and in south africa and new zealand--parts of the world very widely distant from each other, and inhabited by very diverse races. it has also been lately discovered that the greeks used this toy, which they called [greek], in the mysteries of dionysus, and possibly it may be identical with the mystica vannus iacchi (virgil, 'georgics,' i. ). the conclusion drawn by the ethnologist is that this object, called turndun by the australians, is a very early savage invention, probably discovered and applied to religious purposes in various separate centres, and retained from the age of savagery in the mystic rites of greeks and perhaps of romans. well, do we find anything analogous in the case of the divining rod? future researches may increase our knowledge, but at present little or nothing is known of the divining rod in classical ages, and not very much (though that little is significant) among uncivilised races. it is true that in all countries rods or wands, the latin virga, have a magical power. virgil obtained his mediaeval repute as a wizard because his name was erroneously connected with virgula, the magic wand. but we do not actually know that the ancient wand of the enchantress circe, in homer, or the wand of hermes, was used, like the divining rod, to indicate the whereabouts of hidden wealth or water. in the homeric hymn to hermes (line ), apollo thus describes the caduceus, or wand of hermes: 'thereafter will i give thee a lovely wand of wealth and riches, a golden wand with three leaves, which shall keep thee ever unharmed.' in later art this wand, or caduceus, is usually entwined with serpents; but on one vase, at least, the wand of hermes is simply the forked twig of our rustic miners and water-finders. the same form is found on an engraved etruscan mirror. { } now, was a wand of this form used in classical times to discover hidden objects of value? that wands were used by scythians and germans in various methods of casting lots is certain; but that is not the same thing as the working of the twig. cicero speaks of a fabled wand by which wealth can be procured; but he says nothing of the method of its use, and possibly was only thinking of the rod of hermes, as described in the homeric hymn already quoted. there was a roman play, by varro, called 'virgula divina'; but it is lost, and throws no light on the subject. a passage usually quoted from seneca has no more to do with the divining rod than with the telephone. pliny is a writer extremely fond of marvels; yet when he describes the various modes of finding wells of water, he says nothing about the divining wand. the isolated texts from scripture which are usually referred to clearly indicate wands of a different sort, if we except hosea iv. , the passage used as motto by the author of 'lettres qui decouvrent l'illusion des philosophes sur la baguette' ( ). this text is translated in our bible, 'my people ask counsel at their stocks, _and their staff declareth unto them_! now, we have here no reference to the search for wells and minerals, but to a form of divination for which the modern twig has ceased to be applied. in rural england people use the wand to find water, but not to give advice, or to detect thieves or murderers; but, as we shall see, the rod has been very much used for these purposes within the last three centuries. this brings us to the moral powers of the twig; and here we find some assistance in our inquiry from the practices of uncivilised races. in john bell was travelling across asia; he fell in with a russian merchant, who told him of a custom common among the mongols. the russian had lost certain pieces of cloth, which were stolen out of his tent. the kutuchtu lama ordered the proper steps to be taken to find out the thief. 'one of the lamas took a bench with four feet, and after turning it in several directions, at last it pointed directly to the tent where the stolen goods were concealed. the lama now mounted across the bench, and soon carried it, or, as was commonly believed, it carried him, to the very tent, where he ordered the damask to be produced. the demand was directly complied with; for it is vain in such cases to offer any excuse.' { a} here we have not a wand, indeed, but a wooden object which turned in the direction, not of water or minerals, but of human guilt. a better instance is given by the rev. h. rowley, in his account of the mauganja. { b} a thief had stolen some corn. the medicine-man, or sorcerer, produced two sticks, which he gave to four young men, two holding each stick. the medicine-man danced and sang a magical incantation, while a zebra-tail and a rattle were shaken over the holders of the sticks. 'after a while, the men with the sticks had spasmodic twitchings of the arms and legs; these increased nearly to convulsions. . . . according to the native idea, _it was the sticks which were possessed primarily_, and through them the men, _who could hardly hold them_. the sticks whirled and dragged the men round and round like mad, through bush and thorny shrub, and over every obstacle; nothing stopped them; their bodies were torn and bleeding. at last they came back to the assembly, whirled round again, and rushed down the path to fall panting and exhausted in the hut of one of a chief's wives. the sticks, rolling to her very feet, denounced her as a thief. she denied it; but the medicine-man answered, "the spirit has declared her guilty; the spirit never lies."' the woman, however, was acquitted, after a proxy trial by ordeal: a cock, used as her proxy, threw up the muavi, or ordeal-poison. here the points to be noted are, first, the violent movement of the sticks, which the men could hardly hold; next, the physical agitation of the men. the former point is illustrated by the confession of a civil engineer writing in the 'times.' this gentleman had seen the rod successfully used for water; he was asked to try it himself, and he determined that it should not twist in his hands 'if an ocean rolled under his feet.' twist it did, however, in spite of all his efforts to hold it, when he came above a concealed spring. another example is quoted in the 'quarterly review,' vol. xxii. p. . a narrator, in whom the editor had 'implicit confidence,' mentions how, when a lady held the twig just over a hidden well, 'the twig turned so quick as to snap, breaking near her fingers.' there seems to be no indiscretion in saying, as the statement has often been printed before, that the lady spoken of in the 'quarterly review' was lady milbanke, mother of the wife of byron. dr. hutton, the geologist, is quoted as a witness of her success in the search for water with the divining rod. he says that, in an experiment at woolwich, 'the twigs twisted themselves off below her fingers, which were considerably indented by so forcibly holding the rods between them.' { } next, the violent excitement of the four young men of the mauganja is paralleled by the physical experience of the lady quoted in the 'quarterly review.' 'a degree of agitation was visible in her face when she first made the experiment; she says this agitation was great' when she began to practise the art, or whatever we are to call it. again, in 'lettres qui decouvrent l'illusion' (p. ), we read that jacques aymar (who discovered the lyons murderer in ) se sent tout emu--feels greatly agitated--when he comes on that of which he is in search. on page of the same volume, the body of the man who holds the divining rod is described as 'violently agitated.' when aymar entered the room where the murder, to be described later, was committed, 'his pulse rose as if he were in a burning fever, and the wand turned rapidly in his hands' ('lettres,' p. ). but the most singular parallel to the performance of the african wizard must be quoted from a curious pamphlet already referred to, a translation of the old french 'verge de jacob,' written, annotated, and published by a mr. thomas welton. mr. welton seems to have been a believer in mesmerism, animal magnetism, and similar doctrines, but the coincidence of his story with that of the african sorcerer is none the less remarkable. it is a coincidence which must almost certainly be 'undesigned.' mr. welton's wife was what modern occult philosophers call a 'sensitive.' in , he wished her to try an experiment with the rod in a garden, and sent a maid-servant to bring 'a certain stick that stood behind the parlour door. in great terror she brought it to the garden, her hand firmly clutched on the stick, nor could she let it go . . . ' the stick was given to mrs. welton, 'and it drew her with very considerable force to nearly the centre of the garden, to a bed of poppies, where she stopped.' here water was found, and the gardener, who had given up his lease as there was no well in the garden, had the lease renewed. we have thus evidence to show (and much more might be adduced) that the belief in the divining rod, or in analogous instruments, is not confined to the european races. the superstition, or whatever we are to call it, produces the same effects of physical agitation, and the use of the rod is accompanied with similar phenomena among mongols, english people, frenchmen, and the natives of central africa. the same coincidences are found in almost all superstitious practices, and in the effects of these practices on believers. the chinese use a form of planchette, which is half a divining rod--a branch of the peach tree; and 'spiritualism' is more than three-quarters of the religion of most savage tribes, a maori seance being more impressive than anything the civilised sludge can offer his credulous patrons. from these facts different people draw different inferences. believers say that the wide distribution of their favourite mysteries is a proof that 'there is something in them.' the incredulous look on our modern 'twigs' and turning-tables and ghost stories as mere 'survivals' from the stage of savage culture, or want of culture, when the fancy of half-starved man was active and his reason uncritical. the great authority for the modern history of the divining rod is a work published by m. chevreuil, in paris, in . m. chevreuil, probably with truth, regarded the wand as much on a par with the turning-tables, which, in , attracted a good deal of attention. he studied the topic historically, and his book, with a few accessible french tracts and letters of the seventeenth century, must here be our guide. a good deal of m. chevreuil's learning, it should be said, is reproduced in mr. baring gould's 'curious myths of the middle ages,' but the french author is much more exhaustive in his treatment of the topic. m. chevreuil could find no earlier book on the twig than the 'testament du frere basil valentin,' a holy man who flourished (the twig) about ; but whose treatise is possibly apocryphal. according to basil valentin, the twig was regarded with awe by ignorant labouring men, which is still true. paracelsus, though he has a reputation for magical daring, thought the use of the twig 'uncertain and unlawful'; and agricola, in his 'de re metallica' ( ) expresses a good deal of scepticism about the use of the rod in mining. a traveller of found that the wand was _not_ used--and this seems to have surprised him--in the mines of macedonia. most of the writers of the sixteenth century accounted for the turning of the rod by 'sympathy,' which was then as favourite an explanation of everything as evolution is to-day. in the baron de beau soleil of bohemia (his name sounds rather bohemian) came to france with his wife, and made much use of the rod in the search for water and minerals. the baroness wrote a little volume on the subject, afterwards reprinted in a great storehouse of this lore, 'la physique occulte,' of vallemont. kircher, a jesuit, made experiments which came to nothing; but gaspard schott, a learned writer, cautiously declined to say that the devil was always 'at the bottom of it' when the rod turned successfully. the problem of the rod was placed before our own royal society by boyle, in , but the society was not more successful here than in dealing with the philosophical difficulty proposed by charles ii. in de saint remain, deserting the old hypothesis of secret 'sympathies,' explained the motion of the rod (supposing it to move) by the action of corpuscules. from this time the question became the playing ground of the cartesian and other philosophers. the struggle was between theories of 'atoms,' magnetism, 'corpuscules,' electric effluvia, and so forth, on one side, and the immediate action of devils or of conscious imposture, on the other. the controversy, comparatively simple as long as the rod only indicated hidden water or minerals, was complicated by the revival of the savage belief that the wand could 'smell out' moral offences. as long as the twig turned over material objects, you could imagine sympathies and 'effluvia' at pleasure. but when the wand twirled over the scene of a murder, or dragged the expert after the traces of the culprit, fresh explanations were wanted. le brun wrote to malebranche on july , , to tell him that the wand only turned over what the holder had the _intention_ of discovering. { } if he were following a murderer, the wand good-naturedly refused to distract him by turning over hidden water. on the other hand, vallemont says that when a peasant was using the wand to find water, it turned over a spot in a wood where a murdered woman was buried, and it conducted the peasant to the murderer's house. these events seem inconsistent with le brun's theory of _intention_. malebranche replied, in effect, that he had only heard of the turning of the wand over water and minerals; that it then turned (if turn it did) by virtue of some such force as electricity; that, if such force existed, the wand would turn over open water. but it does not so turn; and, as physical causes are constant, it follows that the turning of the rod cannot be the result of a physical cause. the only other explanation is an intelligent cause--either the will of an impostor, or the action of a spirit. good spirits would not meddle with such matters; therefore either the devil or an impostor causes the motion of the rod, if it _does_ move at all. this logic of malebranche's is not agreeable to believers in the twig; but there the controversy stood, till, in , jacques aymar, a peasant of dauphine, by the use of the twig discovered one of the lyons murderers. though the story of this singular event is pretty well known, it must here be briefly repeated. no affair can be better authenticated, and our version is abridged from the 'relations' of 'monsieur le procureur du roi, monsieur l'abbe de la garde, monsieur panthot, doyen des medecins de lyon, et monsieur aubert, avocat celebre.' on july , , a vintner and his wife were found dead in the cellar of their shop at lyons. they had been killed by blows from a hedging-knife, and their money had been stolen. the culprits could not be discovered, and a neighbour took upon him to bring to lyons a peasant out of dauphine, named jacques aymar, a man noted for his skill with the divining rod. the lieutenant-criminel and the procureur du roi took aymar into the cellar, furnishing him with a rod of the first wood that came to hand. according to the procureur du roi, the rod did not move till aymar reached the very spot where the crime had been committed. his pulse then rose, and the wand twisted rapidly. 'guided by the wand or by some internal sensation,' aymar now pursued the track of the assassins, entered the court of the archbishop's palace, left the town by the bridge over the rhone, and followed the right bank of the river. he reached a gardener's house, which he declared the men had entered, and some children confessed that three men (_whom they described_) had come into the house one sunday morning. aymar followed the track up the river, pointed out all the places where the men had landed, and, to make a long story short, stopped at last at the door of the prison of beaucaire. he was admitted, looked at the prisoners, and picked out as the murderer a little hunchback (had the children described a hunchback?) who had just been brought in for a small theft. the hunchback was taken to lyons, and he was recognised, on the way, by the people at all the stages where he had stopped. at lyons he was examined in the usual manner, and confessed that he had been an accomplice in the crime, and had guarded the door. aymar pursued the other culprits to the coast, followed them by sea, landed where they had landed, and only desisted from his search when they crossed the frontier. as for the hunchback, he was broken on the wheel, being condemned on his own confession. it does not appear that he was put to the torture to make him confess. if this had been done his admissions would, of course, have been as valueless as those of the victims in trials for witchcraft. this is, in brief, the history of the famous lyons murders. it must be added that many experiments were made with aymar in paris, and that they were all failures. he fell into every trap that was set for him; detected thieves who were innocent, failed to detect the guilty, and invented absurd excuses; alleging, for example, that the rod would not indicate a murderer who had confessed, or who was drunk when he committed his crime. these excuses seem to annihilate the wild contemporary theory of chauvin and others, that the body of a murderer naturally exhales an invisible matiere meurtriere--peculiar indestructible atoms, which may be detected by the expert with the rod. something like the same theory, we believe, has been used to explain the pretended phenomena of haunted houses. but the wildest philosophical credulity is staggered by a matiere meurtriere which is disengaged by the body of a sober, but not by that of an intoxicated, murderer, which survives tempests in the air, and endures for many years, but is dissipated the moment the murderer confesses. believers in aymar have conjectured that his real powers were destroyed by the excitements of paris, and that he took to imposture; but this is an effort of too easy good-nature. when vallemont defended aymar ( ) in the book called 'la physique occulte,' he declared that aymar was physically affected to an unpleasant extent by matiere meurtriere, but was not thus agitated when he used the rod to discover minerals. we have seen that, if modern evidence can be trusted, holders of the rod are occasionally much agitated even when they are only in search of wells. the story gave rise to a prolonged controversy, and the case remains a judicial puzzle, but little elucidated by the confession of the hunchback, who may have been insane, or morbid, or vexed by constant questioning till he was weary of his life. he was only nineteen years of age. the next use of the rod was very much like that of 'tipping' and turning tables. experts held it (as did le pere menestrier, ), questions were asked, and the wand answered by turning in various directions. by way of showing the inconsistency of all philosophies of the wand, it may be said that one girl found that it turned over concealed gold if she held gold in her hand, while another found that it indicated the metal so long as she did _not_ carry gold with her in the quest. in the search for water, ecclesiastics were particularly fond of using the rod. the marechal de boufflers dug many wells, and found no water, on the indications of a rod in the hands of the prieur de dorenic, near guise. in a cure, near toulouse, used the wand to answer questions, which, like planchette, it often answered wrong. the great sourcier, or water- finder, of the eighteenth century was one bleton. he declared that the rod was a mere index, and that physical sensations of the searcher communicated themselves to the wand. this is the reverse of the african theory, that the stick is inspired, while the men who hold it are only influenced by the stick. on the whole, bleton's idea seems the less absurd, but bleton himself often failed when watched with scientific care by the incredulous. paramelle, who wrote on methods of discovering wells, in , came to the conclusion that the wand turns in the hands of certain individuals of peculiar temperament, and that it is very much a matter of chance whether there are, or are not, wells in the places where it turns. on the whole, the evidence for the turning of the wand is a shade better than that for the magical turning of tables. if there are no phenomena of this sort at all, it is remarkable that the belief in them is so widely diffused. but if the phenomena are purely subjective, owing to the conscious or unconscious action of nervous patients, then they are precisely of the sort which the cunning medicine-man observes, and makes his profit out of, even in the earliest stages of society. once introduced, these practices never die out among the conservative and unprogressive class of peasants; and, every now and then, they attract the curiosity of philosophers, or win the belief of the credulous among the educated classes. then comes, as we have lately seen, a revival of ancient superstition. for it were as easy to pluck the comet out of the sky by the tail, as to eradicate superstition from the mind of man. perhaps one good word may be said for the divining rod. considering the chances it has enjoyed, the rod has done less mischief than might have been expected. it might very well have become, in europe, as in asia and africa, a kind of ordeal, or method of searching for and trying malefactors. men like jacques aymar might have played, on a larger scale, the part of hopkins, the witch-finder. aymar was, indeed, employed by some young men to point out, by help of the wand, the houses of ladies who had been more frail than faithful. but at the end of the seventeenth century in france, this research was not regarded with favour, and put the final touch on the discomfiture of aymar. so far as we know, the hunchback of lyons was the only victim of the 'twig' who ever suffered in civilised society. it is true that, in rural england, the movements of a bible, suspended like a pendulum, have been thought to point out the guilty. but even that evidence is not held good enough to go to a jury. hottentot mythology. 'what makes mythology mythological, in the true sense of the word, is what is utterly unintelligible, absurd, strange, or miraculous.' so says mr. max muller in the january number of the nineteenth century for . men's attention would never have been surprised into the perpetual study and questioning of mythology if it had been intelligible and dignified, and if its report had been in accordance with the reason of civilised and cultivated races. what mythologists wish to discover is the origin of the countless disgusting, amazing, and incongruous legends which occur in the myths of all known peoples. according to mr. muller-- there are only two systems possible in which the irrational element in mythology can be accounted for. one school takes the irrational as a matter of fact; and if we read that daphne fled before phoebus, and was changed into a laurel tree, that school would say that there probably was a young lady called aurora, like, for instance, aurora konigsmark; that a young man called robin, or possibly a man with red hair, pursued her, and that she hid behind a laurel tree that happened to be there. this was the theory of euhemeros, re-established by the famous abbe bernier [mr. muller doubtless means banier], and not quite extinct even now. according to another school, the irrational element in mythology is inevitable, and due to the influence of language on thought, so that many of the legends of gods and heroes may be rendered intelligible if only we can discover the original meaning of their proper names. the followers of this school try to show that daphne, the laurel tree, was an old name for the dawn, and that phoibos was one of the many names of the sun, who pursued the dawn till she vanished before his rays. of these two schools, the former has always appealed to the mythologies of savage nations, as showing that gods and heroes were originally human beings, worshipped after their death as ancestors and as gods, while the latter has confined itself chiefly to an etymological analysis of mythological names in greek, latin, and sanskrit, and other languages, such as had been sufficiently studied to admit of a scientific, grammatical, and etymological treatment. this is a long text for our remarks on hottentot mythology; but it is necessary to prove that there are not two schools only of mythologists: that there are inquirers who neither follow the path of the abbe banier, nor of the philologists, but a third way, unknown to, or ignored by mr. muller. we certainly were quite unaware that banier and euhemeros were very specially concerned, as mr. muller thinks, with savage mythology; but it is by aid of savage myths that the school unknown to mr. muller examines the myths of civilised peoples like the greeks. the disciples of mr. muller interpret all the absurdities of greek myth, the gods who are beasts on occasion, the stars who were men, the men who become serpents or deer, the deities who are cannibals and parricides and adulterers, as the result of the influence of aryan speech upon aryan thought. men, in mr. muller's opinion, had originally pure ideas about the gods, and expressed them in language which we should call figurative. the figures remained, when their meaning was lost; the names were then supposed to be gods, the nomina became numina, and out of the inextricable confusion of thought which followed, the belief in cannibal, bestial, adulterous, and incestuous gods was evolved. that is mr. muller's hypothesis; with him the evolution, a result of a disease of language, has been from early comparative purity to later religious abominations. opposed to him is what may be called the school of mr. herbert spencer: the modern euhemerism, which recognises an element of historical truth in myths, as if the characters had been real characters, and which, in most gods, beholds ancestral ghosts raised to a higher power. there remains a third system of mythical interpretation, though mr. muller says only two methods are possible. the method, in this third case, is to see whether the irrational features and elements of civilised greek myth occur also in the myths of savages who speak languages quite unlike those from whose diseases mr. muller derives the corruption of religion. if the same features recur, are they as much in harmony with the mental habits of savages, such as bushmen and hottentots, as they are out of accord with the mental habits of civilised greeks? if this question can be answered in the affirmative, then it may be provisionally assumed that the irrational elements of savage myth are the legacy of savage modes of thought, and have survived in the religion of greece from a time when the ancestors of the greeks were savages. but inquirers who use this method do not in the least believe that either greek or savage gods were, for the more part, originally real men. both greeks and savages have worshipped the ghosts of the dead. both greeks and savages assign to their gods the miraculous powers of transformation and magic, which savages also attribute to their conjurers or shamans. the mantle (if he had a mantle) of the medicine-man has fallen on the god; but zeus, or indra, was not once a real medicine-man. a number of factors combine in the conception of indra, or zeus, as either god appears in sanskrit or greek literature, of earlier or later date. our school does not hold anything so absurd as that daphne was a real girl pursued by a young man. but it has been observed that, among most savage races, metamorphoses like that of daphne not only exist in mythology, but are believed to occur very frequently in actual life. men and women are supposed to be capable of turning into plants (as the bamboo in sarawak), into animals, and stones, and stars, and those metamorphoses happen as contemporary events--for example, in samoa. { } when mr. lane was living at cairo, and translating the 'arabian nights,' he found that the people still believed in metamorphosis. any day, just as in the 'arabian nights,' a man might find himself turned by an enchanter into a pig or a horse. similar beliefs, not derived from language, supply the matter of the senseless incidents in greek myths. savage mythology is also full of metamorphoses. therefore the mythologists whose case we are stating, when they find identical metamorphoses in the classical mythologies, conjecture that these were first invented when the ancestors of the aryans were in the imaginative condition in which a score of rude races are to-day. this explanation they apply to many other irrational elements in mythology. they do not say, 'something like the events narrated in these stories once occurred,' nor 'a disease of language caused the belief in such events,' but 'these stories were invented when men were capable of believing in their occurrence as a not unusual sort of incident' philologists attempt to explain the metamorphoses as the result of some oblivion and confusion of language. apollo, they say, was called the 'wolf-god' (lukeios) by accident: his name really meant the 'god of light.' a similar confusion made the 'seven shiners' into the 'seven bears.' { } these explanations are distrusted, partly because the area to be covered by them is so vast. there is scarcely a star, tree, or beast, but it has been a man or woman once, if we believe civilised and savage myth. two or three possible examples of myths originating in forgetfulness of the meaning of words, even if admitted, do not explain the incalculable crowd of metamorphoses. we account for these by saying that, to the savage mind, which draws no hard and fast line between man and nature, all such things are possible; possible enough, at least, to be used as incidents in story. again, as has elsewhere been shown, the laxity of philological reasoning is often quite extraordinary; while, lastly, philologists of the highest repute flatly contradict each other about the meaning of the names and roots on which they agree in founding their theory. { a} by way of an example of the philological method as applied to savage mythology, we choose a book in many ways admirable, dr. hahn's 'tsuni goam, the supreme being of the khoi khoi.' { b} this book is sometimes appealed to as a crushing argument against the mythologists who adopt the method we have just explained. let us see if the blow be so very crushing. to put the case in a nutshell, the hottentots have commonly been described as a race which worshipped a dead chief, or conjurer--tsui goab his name is, meaning wounded knee, a not unlikely name for a savage. dr. hahn, on the other hand, labours to show that the hottentots originally worshipped no dead chief, but (as a symbol of the infinite) the red dawn. the meaning of the name red dawn, he says, was lost; the words which meant red dawn were erroneously supposed to mean wounded knee, and thus arose the adoration and the myths of a dead chief, or wizard, tsui goab, wounded knee. clearly, if this can be proved, it is an excellent case for the philological school, an admirable example of a myth produced by forgetfulness of the meaning of words. our own opinion is that, even if tsui goab originally meant red dawn, the being, as now conceived of by his adorers, is bedizened in the trappings of the dead medicine-man, and is worshipped just as ghosts of the dead are worshipped. thus, whatever his origin, his myth is freely coloured by the savage fancy and by savage ideas, and we ask no more than this colouring to explain the wildest greek myths. what truly 'primitive' religion was, we make no pretence to know. we only say that, whether greek religion arose from a pure fountain or not, its stream had flowed through and been tinged by the soil of savage thought, before it widens into our view in historical times. but it will be shown that the logic which connects tsui goab with the red dawn is far indeed from being cogent. tsui goab is thought by the hottentots themselves to be a dead man, and it is admitted that among the hottentots dead men are adored. 'cairns are still objects of worship,' { a} and tsui goab lies beneath several cairns. again, soothsayers are believed in (p. ), and tsui goab is regarded as a deceased soothsayer. as early as , a witness quoted by hahn saw women worshipping at one of the cairns of heitsi eibib, another supposed ancestral being. kolb, the old dutch traveller, found that the hottentots, like the bushmen, revered the mantis insect. this creature they called gaunab. they also had some moon myths, practised adoration of the moon, and danced at dawn. thunberg ( ) saw the cairn-worship, and, on asking its meaning, was told that a hottentot lay buried there. { b} thunberg also heard of the worship of the mantis, or grey grasshopper. in liechtenstein noted the cairn-worship, and was told that a renowned hottentot doctor of old times rested under the cairn. appleyard's account of 'the name god in khoi khoi, or hottentot,' deserves quoting in full:-- hottentot: tsoei'koap. namaqua: tsoei'koap. koranna: tshu'koab, and the author adds: 'this is the word from which the kafirs have probably derived their u-tixo, a term which they have universally applied, like the hottentots, to designate the divine being, since the introduction of christianity. its derivation is curious. it consists of two words, which together mean the "wounded knee." it is said to have been originally applied to a doctor or sorcerer of considerable notoriety and skill amongst the hottentots or namaquas some generations back, in consequence of his having received some injury in his knee. having been held in high repute for extraordinary powers during life, he appeared to be invoked even after death, as one who could still relieve and protect; and hence, in process of time, he became nearest in idea to their first conceptions of god.' other missionaries make old wounded knee a good sort of being on the whole, who fights gaunab, a bad being. dr. moffat heard that 'tsui kuap' was 'a notable warrior,' who once received a wound in the knee. sir james alexander { } found that the namaquas believed their 'great father' lay below the cairns on which they flung boughs. this great father was heitsi eibib, and, like other medicine-men, 'he could take many forms.' like tsui goab, he died several times and rose again. hahn gives (p. ) a long account of the wounded knee from an old chief, and a story of the battle between tsui goab, who 'lives in a beautiful heaven,' and gaunab, who 'lives in a dark heaven.' as this chief had dwelt among missionaries very long, we may perhaps discount his remarks on 'heaven' as borrowed. hahn thinks they refer to the red sky in which tsui goab lived, and to the black sky which was the home of gaunab. the two characters in this crude religious dualism thus inhabit light and darkness respectively. * * * * * as far as we have gone, tsui goab, like heitsi eibib among the namas, is a dead sorcerer, whose graves are worshipped, while, with a common inconsistency, he is also thought of as dwelling in the sky. even christians often speak of the dead with similar inconsistency. tsui goab's worship is intelligible enough among a people so credulous that they took hahn himself for a conjurer (p. ), and so given to ancestor- worship that hahn has seen them worship their own fathers' graves, and expect help from men recently dead (pp. , ). but, while the khoi khoi think that tsui goab was once a real man, we need not share their euhemerism. more probably, like unkulunkulu among the zulus, tsui goab is an ideal, imaginary ancestral sorcerer and god. no one man requires many graves, and tsui goab has more than osiris possessed in egypt. { } if the egyptians in some immeasurably distant past were once on the level of namas and hottentots, they would worship osiris at as many barrows as heitsi eibib and tsui goab are adored. in later times the numerous graves of one being would require explanation, and explanations would be furnished by the myth that the body of osiris was torn to pieces and each fragment buried in a separate tomb. again, lame gods occur in greek, australian, and brazilian creeds, and the very coincidence of tsui goab's lameness makes us sceptical about his claims to be a real dead man. on the other hand, when hahn tells us that epical myths are now sung in the dances in honour of warriors lately slain (p. ), and that similar dances and songs were performed in the past to honour tsui goab, this looks more as if tsui goab had been an actual person. against this we must set (p. ) the belief that tsui goab made the first man and woman, and was the prometheus of the hottentots. * * * * * so far dr. hahn has given us facts which entirely fit in with our theory that an ancestor-worshipping people, believing in metamorphosis and sorcery, adores a god who is supposed to be a deceased ancestral sorcerer with the power of magic and metamorphosis. but now dr. hahn offers his own explanation. according to the philological method, he will 'study the names of the persons, until we arrive at the naked root and original meanings of the words.' starting then with tsui goab, whom all evidence declares to be a dead lame conjurer and warrior, dr. hahn avers that 'tsui goab, originally tsuni goam, was the name by which the red men called the infinite.' as the frenchman said of the derivation of jour from _dies_, we may hint that the infinite thus transformed into a lame hottentot 'bush-doctor' is diablement change en route. to a dead lame sorcerer from the infinite is a fall indeed. the process of the decline is thus described. tsui goab is composed of two roots, tsu and goa. goa means 'to go on,' 'to come on.' in khoi khoi goa-b means 'the coming on one,' the dawn, and goa-b also means 'the knee.' dr. hahn next writes (making a logical leap of extraordinary width), 'it is now obvious that, //goab in tsui goab cannot be translated with knee,'--why not?--'but we have to adopt the other metaphorical meaning, the _approaching_ day, i.e. the dawn.' where is the necessity? in ordinary philology, we should here demand a number of attested examples of goab, in the sense of dawn, but in khoi khoi we cannot expect such evidence, as there are probably no texts. next, after arbitrarily deciding that all khoi khois misunderstand their own tongue (for that is what the rendering here of goab by 'dawn' comes to), dr. hahn examines tsu, in tsui. tsu means 'sore,' 'wounded,' 'painful,' as in 'wounded knee'--tsui goab. this does not help dr hahn, for 'wounded dawn' means nothing. but he reflects that a wound is red, tsu means wounded: therefore tsu means red, therefore tsui goab is the red dawn. q.e.d. this kind of reasoning is obviously fallacious. dr. hahn's point could only be made by bringing forward examples in which tsu is employed to mean red in khoi khoi. of this use of the word tsu he does not give one single instance, though on this point his argument depends. his etymology is not strengthened by the fact that tsui goab has once been said to live in the red sky. a red house is not necessarily tenanted by a red man. still less is the theory supported by the hymn which says tsui goab paints himself with red ochre. most idols, from those of the samoyeds to the greek images of dionysus, are and have been daubed with red. by such reasoning is tsui goab proved to be the red dawn, while his gifts of prophecy (which he shares with all soothsayers) are accounted for as attributes of dawn, of the vedic saranyu. turning from tsui goab to his old enemy gaunab, we learn that his name is derived from //gau, 'to destroy,' and, according to old hottentot ideas, 'no one was the destroyer but the night' (p. ). there is no apparent reason why the destroyer should be the night, and the night alone, any more than why 'a lame broken knee' should be 'red' (p. ). besides (p. ), gaunab is elsewhere explained, not as the night, but as the malevolent ghost which is thought to kill people who die what we call a 'natural' death. unburied men change into this sort of vampire, just as elpenor, in the odyssey, threatens, if unburied, to become mischievous. there is another gaunab, the mantis insect, which is worshipped by hottentots and bushmen (p. ). it appears that the two gaunabs are differently pronounced. however that may be, a race which worships an insect might well worship a dead medicine-man. * * * * * the conclusion, then, to be drawn from an examination of hottentot mythology is merely this, that the ideas of a people will be reflected in their myths. a people which worships the dead, believes in sorcerers and in prophets, and in metamorphosis, will have for its god (if he can be called a god) a being who is looked on as a dead prophet and sorcerer. he will be worshipped with such rites as dead men receive; he will be mixed up in such battles as living men wage, and will be credited with the skill which living sorcerers claim. all these things meet in the legend of tsui goab, the so-called 'supreme being' of the hottentots. his connection with the dawn is not supported by convincing argument or evidence. the relation of the dawn to the infinite again rests on nothing but a theory of mr. max muller's. { } his adversary, though recognised as the night, is elsewhere admitted to have been, originally, a common vampire. finally, the hottentots, a people not much removed from savagery, have a mythology full of savage and even disgusting elements. and this is just what we expect from hottentots. the puzzle is when we find myths as low as the story of the incest of heitsi eibib among the greeks. the reason for this coincidence is that, in dr. hahn's words, 'the same objects and the same phenomena in nature will give rise to the same ideas, whether social or mythical, among different races of mankind,' especially when these races are in the same well-defined state of savage fancy and savage credulity. dr. hahn's book has been regarded as a kind of triumph over inquirers who believe that ancestor-worship enters into myth, and that the purer element in myth is the later. but where is the triumph? even on dr. hahn's own showing, ancestor-worship among the hottentots has swamped the adoration of the infinite. it may be said that dr. hahn has at least proved the adoration of the infinite to be earlier than ancestor-worship. but it has been shown that his attempt to establish a middle stage, to demonstrate that the worshipped ancestor was really the red dawn, is not logical nor convincing. even if that middle stage were established, it is a far cry from the worship of dawn (supposed by the australians to be a woman of bad character in a cloak of red' possum-skin) to the adoration of the infinite. our own argument has been successful if we have shown that there are not only two possible schools of mythological interpretation--the euhemeristic, led by mr. spencer, and the philological, led by mr. max muller. we have seen that it is possible to explain the legend of tsui goab without either believing him to have been a real historical person (as mr. spencer may perhaps believe), or his myth to have been the result of a 'disease of language' as mr. muller supposes. we have explained the legend and worship of a supposed dead conjurer as natural to a race which believes in conjurers and worships dead men. whether he was merely an ideal ancestor and warrior, or whether an actual man has been invested with what divine qualities tsui goab enjoys, it is impossible to say; but, if he ever lived, he has long been adorned with ideal qualities and virtues which he never possessed. the conception of the powerful ancestral ghost has been heightened and adorned with some novel attributes of power: the conception of the infinite has not been degraded, by forgetfulness of language, to the estate of an ancestral ghost with a game leg. * * * * * if this view be correct, myth is the result of thought, far more than of a disease of language. the comparative importance of language and thought was settled long ago, in our sense, by no less a person than pragapati, the sanskrit master of life. 'now a dispute once took place between mind and speech, as to which was the better of the two. both mind and speech said, "i am excellent!" mind said, "surely i am better than thou, for thou dost not speak anything that is not understood by me; and since thou art only an imitator of what is done by me and a follower in my wake, i am surely better than thou!" speech said, "surely i am better than thou, for what thou knowest i make known, i communicate." they went to appeal to pragapati for his decision. he (pragapati) decided in favour of mind, saying (to speech), "mind is indeed better than thou, for thou art an imitator of its deeds, and a follower in its wake; and inferior, surely, is he who imitates his better's deeds, and follows in his wake."' so saith the 'satapatha brahmana.' { } fetichism and the infinite. what is the true place of fetichism, to use a common but unscientific term, in the history of religious evolution? some theorists have made fetichism, that is to say, the adoration of odds and ends (with which they have confused the worship of animals, of mountains, and even of the earth), the first moment in the development of worship. others, again, think that fetichism is 'a corruption of religion, in africa, as elsewhere.' the latter is the opinion of mr max muller, who has stated it in his 'hibbert lectures,' on 'the origin and growth of religion, especially as illustrated by the religions of india.' it seems probable that there is a middle position between these two extremes. students may hold that we hardly know enough to justify us in talking about the _origin_ of religion, while at the same time they may believe that fetichism is one of the earliest traceable steps by which men climbed to higher conceptions of the supernatural. meanwhile mr. max muller supports his own theory, that fetichism is a 'parasitical growth,' a 'corruption' of religion, by arguments mainly drawn from historical study of savage creeds, and from the ancient religious documents of india. these documents are to english investigators ignorant of sanskrit 'a book sealed with seven seals.' the vedas are interpreted in very different ways by different oriental scholars. it does not yet appear to be known whether a certain word in the vedic funeral service means 'goat' or 'soul'! mr. max muller's rendering is certain to have the first claim on english readers, and therefore it is desirable to investigate the conclusions which he draws from his vedic studies. the ordinary anthropologist must first, however, lodge a protest against the tendency to look for _primitive_ matter in the vedas. they are the elaborate hymns of a specially trained set of poets and philosophers, living in an age almost of civilisation. they can therefore contain little testimony as to what man, while still 'primitive,' thought about god, the world, and the soul. one might as well look for the first germs of religion, for _primitive_ religion strictly so called, in 'hymns ancient and modern' as in the vedas. it is chiefly, however, by way of deductions from the vedas, that mr. max muller arrives at ideas which may be briefly and broadly stated thus: he inclines to derive religion from man's sense of the infinite, as awakened by natural objects calculated to stir that sense. our position is, on the other hand, that the germs of the religious sense in early man are developed, not so much by the vision of the infinite, as by the idea of power. early religions, in short, are selfish, not disinterested. the worshipper is not contemplative, so much as eager to gain something to his advantage. in fetiches, he ignorantly recognises something that possesses power of an abnormal sort, and the train of ideas which leads him to believe in and to treasure fetiches is one among the earliest springs of religious belief. mr. muller's opinion is the very reverse: he believes that a contemplative and disinterested emotion in the presence of the infinite, or of anything that suggests infinitude or is mistaken for the infinite, begets human religion, while of this religion fetichism is a later corruption. * * * * * in treating of fetichism mr. muller is obliged to criticise the system of de brosses, who introduced this rather unfortunate term to science, in an admirable work, 'le culte des dieux fetiches' ( ). we call the work 'admirable,' because, considering the contemporary state of knowledge and speculation, de brosses's book is brilliant, original, and only now and then rash or confused. mr. muller says that de brosses 'holds that all nations had to begin with fetichism, to be followed afterwards by polytheism and monotheism.' this sentence would lead some readers to suppose that de brosses, in his speculations, was looking for the origin of religion; but, in reality, his work is a mere attempt to explain a certain element in ancient religion and mythology. de brosses was well aware that heathen religions were a complex mass, a concretion of many materials. he admits the existence of regard for the spirits of the dead as one factor, he gives sabaeism a place as another. but what chiefly puzzles him, and what he chiefly tries to explain, is the worship of odds and ends of rubbish, and the adoration of animals, mountains, trees, the sun, and so forth. when he masses all these worships together, and proposes to call them all fetichism (a term derived from the portuguese word for a talisman), de brosses is distinctly unscientific. but de brosses is distinctly scientific when he attempts to explain the animal- worship of egypt, and the respect paid by greeks and romans to shapeless stones, as survivals of older savage practices. the position of de brosses is this: old mythology and religion are a tissue of many threads. sabaeism, adoration of the dead, mythopoeic fancy, have their part in the fabric. among many african tribes, a form of theism, islamite or christian, or self-developed, is superimposed on a mass of earlier superstitions. among these superstitions, is the worship of animals and plants, and the cult of rough stones and of odds and ends of matter. what is the origin of this element, so prominent in the religion of egypt, and present, if less conspicuous, in the most ancient temples of greece? it is the survival, answers de brosses, of ancient practices like those of untutored peoples, as brazilians, samoyeds, negroes, whom the egyptians and pelasgians once resembled in lack of culture. this, briefly stated, is the hypothesis of de brosses. if he had possessed our wider information, he would have known that, among savage races, the worships of the stars, of the dead, and of plants and animals, are interlaced by the strange metaphysical processes of wild men. he would, perhaps, have kept the supernatural element in magical stones, feathers, shells, and so on, apart from the triple thread of sabaeism, ghost-worship, and totemism, with its later development into the regular worship of plants and animals. it must be recognised, however, that de brosses was perfectly well aware of the confused and manifold character of early religion. he had a clear view of the truth that what the religious instinct has once grasped, it does not, as a rule, abandon, but subordinates or disguises, when it reaches higher ideas. and he avers, again and again, that men laid hold of the coarser and more material objects of worship, while they themselves were coarse and dull, and that, as civilisation advanced, they, as a rule, subordinated and disguised the ruder factors in their system. here it is that mr. max muller differs from de brosses. he holds that the adoration of stones, feathers, shells, and (as i understand him) the worship of animals are, even among the races of africa, a corruption of an earlier and purer religion, a 'parasitical development' of religion. however, mr. max muller himself held 'for a long time' what he calls 'de brosses's theory of fetichism.' what made him throw the theory overboard? it was 'the fact that, while in the earliest accessible documents of religious thought we look in vain for any very clear traces of fetichism, they become more and more frequent everywhere in the later stages of religious development, and are certainly more visible in the later corruptions of the indian religion, beginning with the atharvana, than in the earliest hymns of the rig veda.' now, by the earliest accessible documents of religious thought, professor max muller means the hymns of the rig veda. these hymns are composed in the most elaborate metre, by sages of old repute, who, i presume, occupied a position not unlike that of the singers and seers of israel. they lived in an age of tolerably advanced cultivation. they had wide geographical knowledge. they had settled government. they dwelt in states. they had wealth of gold, of grain, and of domesticated animals. among the metals, they were acquainted with that which, in most countries, has been the latest worked--they used iron poles in their chariots. how then can the hymns of the most enlightened singers of a race thus far developed be called 'the earliest religious documents'? oldest they may be, the oldest that are accessible, but that is a very different thing. how can we possibly argue that what is absent in these hymns, is absent because it had not yet come into existence? is it not the very office of pii vates et phoebo digna locuti to purify religion, to cover up decently its rude shapes, as the unhewn stone was concealed in the fane of apollo of delos? if the race whose noblest and oldest extant hymns were pure, exhibits traces of fetichism in its later documents, may not that as easily result from a recrudescence as from a corruption? professor max muller has still, moreover, to explain how the process of corruption which introduced the same fetichistic practices among samoyeds, brazilians, kaffirs, and the people of the atharvana veda came to be everywhere identical in its results. here an argument often urged against the anthropological method may be shortly disposed of. 'you examine savages,' people say, 'but how do you know that these savages were not once much more cultivated; that their whole mode of life, religion and all, is not debased and decadent from an earlier standard?' mr. muller glances at this argument, which, however, cannot serve his purpose. mr. muller has recognised that savage, or 'nomadic,' languages represent a much earlier state of language than anything that we find, for example, in the oldest hebrew or sanskrit texts. 'for this reason,' he says, { } 'the study of what i call _nomad_ languages, as distinguished from _state_ languages, becomes so instructive. we see in them what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language with all its childish freaks.' yes, adds the anthropologist, and for this reason the study of savage religions, as distinguished from state religions, becomes so instructive. we see in them what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew faiths. we watch the childhood of religion with all its childish freaks. if this reasoning be sound when the kaffir tongue is contrasted with ancient sanskrit, it should be sound when the kaffir faith is compared with the vedic faith. by parity of reasoning, the religious beliefs of peoples as much less advanced than the kaffirs as the kaffirs are less advanced than the vedic peoples, should be still nearer the infancy of faith, still 'nearer the beginning.' we have been occupied, perhaps, too long with de brosses and our apology for de brosses. let us now examine, as shortly as possible, mr. max muller's reasons for denying that fetichism is 'a primitive form of religion.' the negative side of his argument being thus disposed of, it will then be our business to consider ( ) his psychological theory of the subjective element in religion, and ( ) his account of the growth of indian religion. the conclusion of the essay will be concerned with demonstrating that mr. max muller's system assigns little or no place to the superstitious beliefs without which, in other countries than india, society could not have come into organised existence. * * * * * in his polemic against fetichism, it is not always very easy to see against whom mr. muller is contending. it is one thing to say that fetichism is a 'primitive form of religion,' and quite another to say that it is 'the very beginning of all religion.' occasionally he attacks the 'comtian theory,' which, i think, is not now held by many people who study the history of man, and which i am not concerned to defend. he says that the portuguese navigators who discovered among the negroes 'no other trace of any religious worship' except what they called the worship of feiticos, concluded that this was the whole of the religion of the negroes (p. ). mr. muller then goes on to prove that 'no religion consists of fetichism only,' choosing his examples of higher elements in negro religion from the collections of waitz. it is difficult to see what bearing this has on his argument. de brosses (p. ) shows that _he_, at least, was well aware that many negro tribes have higher conceptions of the deity than any which are implied in fetich-worship. even if no tribe in the world is exclusively devoted to fetiches, the argument makes no progress. perhaps no extant tribe is in the way of using unpolished stone weapons and no others, but it does not follow that unpolished stone weapons are not primitive. it is just as easy to maintain that the purer ideas have, by this time, been reached by aid of the stepping-stones of the grosser, as that the grosser are the corruption of the purer. mr. max muller constantly asserts that the 'human mind advanced by small and timid steps from what is intelligible, to what is at first sight almost beyond comprehension' (p. ). among the objects which aided man to take these small and timid steps, he reckons rivers and trees, which excited, he says, religious awe. what he will not suppose is that the earliest small and timid steps were not unaided by such objects as the fetichist treasures--stones, shells, and so forth, which suggest no idea of infinity. stocks he will admit, but not, if he can help it, stones, of the sort that negroes and kanekas and other tribes use as fetiches. his reason is, that he does not see how the scraps of the fetichist can appeal to the feeling of the infinite, which feeling is, in his theory, the basis of religion. after maintaining (what is readily granted) that negroes have a religion composed of many elements, mr. muller tries to discredit the evidence about the creeds of savages, and discourses on the many minute shades of progress which exist among tribes too often lumped together as if they were all in the same condition. here he will have all scientific students of savage life on his side. it remains true, however, that certain elements of savage practice, fetichism being one of them, are practically ubiquitous. thus, when mr. muller speaks of 'the influence of public opinion' in biassing the narrative of travellers, we must not forget that the strongest evidence about savage practice is derived from the 'undesigned coincidence' of the testimonies of all sorts of men, in all ages, and all conditions of public opinion. 'illiterate men, ignorant of the writings of each other, bring the same reports from various quarters of the globe,' wrote millar of glasgow. when sailors, merchants, missionaries, describe, as matters unprecedented and unheard of, such institutions as polyandry, totemism, and so forth, the evidence is so strong, because the witnesses are so astonished. they do not know that anyone but themselves has ever noticed the curious facts before their eyes. and when mr. muller tries to make the testimony about savage faith still more untrustworthy, by talking of the 'absence of recognised authority among savages,' do not let us forget that custom ([greek]) is a recognised authority, and that the punishment of death is inflicted for transgression of certain rules. these rules, generally speaking, are of a religious nature, and the religion to which they testify is of the sort known (too vaguely) as 'fetichistic.' let us keep steadily before our minds, when people talk of lack of evidence, that we have two of the strongest sorts of evidence in the world for the kind of religion which least suits mr. muller's argument--( ) the undesigned coincidences of testimony, ( ) the irrefutable witness and sanction of elementary criminal law. mr. muller's own evidence is that much-disputed work, where 'all men see what they want to see, as in the clouds,' and where many see systematised fetichism--the veda. { } the first step in mr. max muller's polemic was the assertion that fetichism is nowhere unmixed. we have seen that the fact is capable of an interpretation that will suit either side. stages of culture overlap each other. the second step in his polemic was the effort to damage the evidence. we have seen that we have as good evidence as can be desired. in the third place he asks, what are the antecedents of fetich-worship? he appears to conceive himself to be arguing with persons (p. ) who 'have taken for granted that every human being was miraculously endowed with the concept of what forms the predicate of every fetich, call it power, spirit, or god.' if there are reasoners so feeble, they must be left to the punishment inflicted by mr. muller. on the other hand, students who regard the growth of the idea of power, which is the predicate of every fetish, as a slow process, as the result of various impressions and trains of early half-conscious reasoning, cannot be disposed of by the charge that they think that 'every human being was miraculously endowed' with any concept whatever. they, at least, will agree with mr. max muller that there are fetiches and fetiches, that to one reverence is assigned for one reason, to another for another. unfortunately, it is less easy to admit that mr. max muller has been happy in his choice of ancient instances. he writes (p. ): 'sometimes a stock or a stone was worshipped because it was a forsaken altar or an ancient place of judgment, sometimes because it marked the place of a great battle or a murder, or the burial of a king.' here he refers to pausanias, book i. , , and viii. , . { } in both of these passages, pausanias, it is true, mentions stones--in the first passage stones on which men stood [greek], in the second, barrows heaped up in honour of men who fell in battle. in neither case, however, do i find anything to show that the stones were worshipped. these stones, then, have no more to do with the argument than the milestones which certainly exist on the dover road, but which are not the objects of superstitious reverence. no! the fetich-stones of greece were those which occupied the holy of holies of the most ancient temples, the mysterious fanes within dark cedar or cypress groves, to which men were hardly admitted. they were the stones and blocks which bore the names of gods, hera, or apollo, names perhaps given, as de brosses says, to the old fetichistic objects of worship, _after_ the anthropomorphic gods entered hellas. this, at least is the natural conclusion from the fact that the apollo and hera of untouched wood or stone were confessedly the _oldest_. religion, possessing an old fetich did not run the risk of breaking the run of luck by discarding it, but wisely retained and renamed it. mr. max muller says that the unhewn lump may indicate a higher power of abstraction than the worship paid to the work of phidias; but in that case all the savage adorers of rough stones _may_ be in a stage of more abstract thought than these contemporaries of phidias who had such very hard work to make greek thought abstract. mr muller founds a very curious argument on what he calls 'the ubiquity of fetichism.' like de brosses, he compiles (from pausanias) a list of the rude stones worshipped by the early greeks. he mentions various examples of fetichistic superstitions in rome. he detects the fetichism of popular catholicism, and of russian orthodoxy among the peasants. here, he cries, in religions the history of which is known to us, fetichism is secondary, 'and why should fetiches in africa, where we do not know the earlier development of religion, be considered as primary?' what a singular argument! according to pausanias, this fetichism (if fetichism it is) _was_ primary, in greece. the _oldest_ temples, in their holiest place, held the oldest fetich. in rome, it is at least probable that fetichism, as in greece, was partly a survival, partly a new growth from the primal root of human superstitions. as to catholicism, the records of councils, the invectives of the church, show us that, from the beginning, the secondary religion in point of time, the religion of the church, laboured vainly to suppress, and had in part to tolerate, the primary religion of childish superstitions. the documents are before the world. as to the russians, the history of their conversion is pretty well known. jaroslaf, or vladimir, or some other evangelist, had whole villages baptized in groups, and the pagan peasants naturally kept up their primary semi-savage ways of thought and worship, under the secondary varnish of orthodoxy. in all mr. max muller's examples, then, fetichism turns out to be _primary_ in point of time; _secondary_ only, as subordinate to some later development of faith, or to some lately superimposed religion. accepting his statement that fetichism is ubiquitous, we have the most powerful a priori argument that fetichism is primitive. as religions become developed they are differentiated; it only fetichism that you find the same everywhere. thus the bow and arrow have a wide range of distribution: the musket, one not so wide; the martini-henry rifle, a still narrower range: it is the primitive stone weapons that are ubiquitous, that are found in the soil of england, egypt, america, france, greece, as in the hands of dieyries and admiralty islanders. and just as rough stone knives are earlier than iron ones (though the same race often uses both), so fetichism is more primitive than higher and purer faiths, though the same race often combines fetichism and theism. no one will doubt the truth of this where weapons are concerned; but mr. max muller will not look at religion in this way. mr. max muller's remarks on 'zoolatry,' as de brosses calls it, or animal- worship, require only the briefest comment. de brosses, very unluckily, confused zoolatry with other superstitions under the head of fetichism. this was unscientific; but is it scientific of mr. max muller to discuss animal-worship without any reference to totemism? the worship of sacred animals is found, in every part of the globe, to be part of the sanction of the most stringent and important of all laws, the laws of marriage. it is an historical truth that the society of ashantees, choctaws, australians, is actually constructed by the operation of laws which are under the sanction of various sacred plants and animals. { } there is scarcely a race so barbarous that these laws are not traceable at work in its society, nor a people (especially an ancient people) so cultivated that its laws and religion are not full of strange facts most easily explained as relics of totemism. now note that actual living totemism is always combined with the rudest ideas of marriage, with almost repulsive ideas about the family. presumably, this rudeness is earlier than culture, and therefore this form of animal-worship is one of the earliest religions that we know. the almost limitless distribution of the phenomena, their regular development, their gradual disappearance, all point to the fact that they are all very early and everywhere produced by similar causes. of all these facts, mr. max muller only mentions one--that many races have called themselves snakes, and he thinks they might naturally adopt the snake for ancestor, and finally for god. he quotes the remark of diodorus that 'the snake may either have been made a god because he was figured on the banners, or may have been figured on the banners because he was a god'; to which de brosses, with his usual sense, rejoins--'we represent saints on our banners because we revere them; we do not revere them because we represent them on our banners.' in a discussion about origins, and about the corruption of religion, it would have been well to account for institutions and beliefs almost universally distributed. we know, what de brosses did not, that zoolatry is inextricably blent with laws and customs which surely must be early, if not primitive, because they make the working faith of societies in which male descent and the modern family are not yet established. anyone who wishes to show that this sort of society is a late corruption, not an early stage in evolution towards better things, has a difficult task before him, which, however, he must undertake, before he can prove zoolatry to be a corruption of religion. as to the worship of ancestral and embodied human spirits, which (it has been so plausibly argued) is the first moment in religion, mr. max muller dismisses it, here, in eleven lines and a half. an isolated but important allusion at the close of his lectures will be noticed in its place. the end of the polemic against the primitiveness of fetichism deals with the question, 'whence comes the supernatural predicate of the fetich?' if a negro tells us his fetich is a god, whence got he the idea of 'god'? many obvious answers occur. mr. muller says, speaking of the indians (p. ): 'the concept of _gods_ was no doubt growing up while men were assuming a more and more definite attitude towards these semi-tangible and intangible objects'--trees, rivers, hills, the sky, the sun, and so on, which he thinks suggested and developed, by aid of a kind of awe, the religious feeling of the infinite. we too would say that, among people who adore fetiches and ghosts, the concept of gods no doubt silently grew up, as men assumed a more and more definite attitude towards the tangible and intangible objects they held sacred. again, negroes have had the idea of god imported among them by christians and islamites, so that, even if they did not climb (as de brosses grants that many of them do) to purer religious ideas unaided, these ideas are now familiar to them, and may well be used by them, when they have to explain a fetich to a european. mr. max muller explains the origin of religion by a term ('the infinite ') which, he admits, the early people would not have comprehended. the negro, if he tells a white man that a fetich is a god, transposes terms in the same unscientific way. mr. muller asks, 'how do these people, when they have picked up their stone or their shell, pick up, at the same time, the concepts of a supernatural power, of spirit, of god, and of worship paid to some unseen being?' but who says that men picked up these ideas _at the same time_? these ideas were evolved by a long, slow, complicated process. it is not at all impossible that the idea of a kind of 'luck' attached to this or that object, was evolved by dint of meditating on a mere series of lucky accidents. such or such a man, having found such an object, succeeded in hunting, fishing, or war. by degrees, similar objects might be believed to command success. thus burglars carry bits of coal in their pockets, 'for luck.' this random way of connecting causes and effects which have really no inter-relation, is a common error of early reasoning. mr. max muller says that 'this process of reasoning is far more in accordance with modern thought'; if so, modern thought has little to be proud of. herodotus, however, describes the process of thought as consecrated by custom among the egyptians. but there are many other practical ways in which the idea of supernatural power is attached to fetiches. some fetich-stones have a superficial resemblance to other objects, and thus (on the magical system of reasoning) are thought to influence these objects. others, again, are pointed out as worthy of regard in dreams or by the ghosts of the dead. { } to hold these views of the origin of the supernatural predicate of fetiches is not 'to take for granted that every human being was miraculously endowed with the concept of what forms the predicate of every fetich.' thus we need not be convinced by mr. max muller that fetichism (though it necessarily has its antecedents in the human mind) is 'a corruption of religion.' it still appears to be one of the most primitive steps towards the idea of the supernatural. what, then, is the subjective element of religion in man? how has he become capable of conceiving of the supernatural? what outward objects first awoke that dormant faculty in his breast? mr. max muller answers, that man has 'the faculty of apprehending the infinite'--that by dint of this faculty he is capable of religion, and that sensible objects, 'tangible, semi-tangible, intangible,' first roused the faculty to religious activity, at least among the natives of india. he means, however, by the 'infinite' which savages apprehend, not our metaphysical conception of the infinite, but the mere impression that there is 'something beyond.' 'every thing of which his senses cannot perceive a limit, is to a primitive savage or to any man in an early stage of intellectual activity _unlimited_ or _infinite_? thus, in all experience, the idea of 'a beyond' is forced on men. if mr. max muller would adhere to this theory, then we should suppose him to mean (what we hold to be more or less true) that savage religion, like savage science, is merely a fanciful explanation of what lies beyond the horizon of experience. for example, if the australians mentioned by mr. max muller believe in a being who created the world, a being whom they do not worship, and to whom they pay no regard (for, indeed, he has become 'decrepit'), their theory is scientific, not religious. they have looked for the causes of things, and are no more religious (in so doing) than newton was when he worked out his theory of gravitation. the term 'infinite' is wrongly applied, because it is a term of advanced thought used in explanation of the ideas of men who, mr. max muller says, were incapable of conceiving the meaning of such a concept. again, it is wrongly applied, because it has some modern religious associations, which are covertly and fallaciously introduced to explain the supposed emotions of early men. thus, mr. muller says (p. )--he is giving his account of the material things that awoke the religious faculty--'the mere sight of the torrent or the stream would have been enough to call forth in the hearts of the early dwellers on the earth . . . a feeling that they were surrounded on all sides by powers invisible, infinite, or divine.' here, if i understand mr. muller, 'infinite' is used in our modern sense. the question is, how did men ever come to believe in powers infinite, invisible, divine? if mr. muller's words mean anything, they mean that a dormant feeling that there were such existences lay in the breast of man, and was wakened into active and conscious life, by the sight of a torrent or a stream. how, to use mr. muller's own manner, did these people, when they saw a stream, have mentally, at the same time, 'a feeling of _infinite_ powers?' if this is not the expression of a theory of 'innate religion' (a theory which mr. muller disclaims), it is capable of being mistaken for that doctrine by even a careful reader. the feeling of 'powers infinite, invisible, divine,' _must_ be in the heart, or the mere sight of a river could not call it forth. how did the feeling get into the heart? that is the question. the ordinary anthropologist distinguishes a multitude of causes, a variety of processes, which shade into each other and gradually produce the belief in powers invisible, infinite, and divine. what tribe is unacquainted with dreams, visions, magic, the apparitions of the dead? add to these the slow action of thought, the conjectural inferences, the guesses of crude metaphysics, the theories of isolated men of religious and speculative genius. by all these and other forces manifold, that emotion of awe in presence of the hills, the stars, the sea, is developed. mr. max muller cuts the matter shorter. the early inhabitants of earth saw a river, and the 'mere sight' of the torrent called forth the feelings which (to us) seem to demand ages of the operation of causes disregarded by mr. muller in his account of the origin of indian religion. the mainspring of mr. muller's doctrine is his theory about 'apprehending the infinite.' early religion, or at least that of india, was, in his view, the extension of an idea of vastness, a disinterested emotion of awe. { a} elsewhere, we think, early religion has been a development of ideas of force, an interested search, not for something wide and far and hard to conceive, but for something practically _strong_ for good and evil. mr. muller (taking no count in this place of fetiches, ghosts, dreams and magic) explains that the sense of 'wonderment' was wakened by objects only semi-tangible, trees, which are _taller_ than we are, 'whose roots are beyond our reach, and which have a kind of life in them.' 'we are dealing with a quartenary, it may be a tertiary troglodyte,' says mr. muller. if a tertiary troglodyte was like a modern andaman islander, a kaneka, a dieyrie, would he stand and meditate in awe on the fact that a tree was taller than he, or had 'a kind of life,' 'an unknown and unknowable, yet undeniable something'? { b} why, this is the sentiment of modern germany, and perhaps of the indian sages of a cultivated period! a troglodyte would look for a 'possum in the tree, he would tap the trunk for honey, he would poke about in the bark after grubs, or he would worship anything odd in the branches. is mr. muller not unconsciously transporting a kind of modern malady of thought into the midst of people who wanted to find a dinner, and who might worship a tree if it had a grotesque shape, that, for them, had a magical meaning, or if boilyas lived in its boughs, but whose practical way of dealing with the problem of its life was to burn it round the stem, chop the charred wood with stone axes, and use the bark, branches, and leaves as they happened to come handy? mr. muller has a long list of semi-tangible objects 'overwhelming and overawing,' like the tree. there are mountains, where 'even a stout heart shivers before the real presence of the _infinite_'; there are rivers, those instruments of so sudden a religious awakening; there is earth. these supply the material for semi-deities. then come sky, stars, dawn, sun, and moon: 'in these we have the germs of what, hereafter, we shall have to call by the name of deities.' before we can transmute, with mr. muller, these objects of a somewhat vague religious regard into a kind of gods, we have to adopt noire's philological theories, and study the effects of auxiliary verbs on the development of personification and of religion. noire's philological theories are still, i presume, under discussion. they are necessary, however, to mr. muller's doctrine of the development of the vague 'sense of the infinite' (wakened by fine old trees, and high mountains) into devas, and of devas (which means 'shining ones') into the vedic gods. our troglodyte ancestors, and their sweet feeling for the spiritual aspect of landscape, are thus brought into relation with the rishis of the vedas, the sages and poets of a pleasing civilisation. the reverence felt for such comparatively refined or remote things as fire, the sun, wind, thunder, the dawn, furnished a series of stepping-stones to the vedic theology, if theology it can be called. it is impossible to give each step in detail; the process must be studied in mr. muller's lectures. nor can we discuss the later changes of faith. as to the processes which produced the fetichistic 'corruption' (that universal and everywhere identical form of decay), mr. muller does not afford even a hint. he only says that, when the indians found that their old gods were mere names, 'they built out of the scattered bricks a new altar to the unknown god'--a statement which throws no light on the parasitical development of fetichism. but his whole theory is deficient if, having called fetichism a _corruption_, he does not show how corruption arose, how it operated, and how the disease attacked all religions everywhere. we have contested, step by step, many of mr. muller's propositions. if space permitted, it would be interesting to examine the actual attitude of certain contemporary savages, bushmen and others, towards the sun. contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not primitive, but their _legends_, at least, are the oldest things they possess. the supernatural elements in their ideas about the sun are curiously unlike those which, according to mr. muller, entered into the development of aryan religion. the last remark which has to be made about mr. muller's scheme of the development of aryan religion is that the religion, as explained by him, does not apparently aid the growth of society, nor work with it in any way. let us look at a sub-barbaric society--say that of zululand, of new zealand, of the iroquois league, or at a savage society like that of the kanekas, or of those australian tribes about whom we have very many interesting and copious accounts. if we begin with the australians, we observe that society is based on certain laws of marriage enforced by capital punishment. these laws of marriage forbid the intermixing of persons belonging to the stock which worships this or that animal, or plant. now this rule, as already observed, _made_ the 'gentile' system (as mr. morgan erroneously calls it) the system which gradually reduces tribal hostility, by making tribes homogeneous. the same system (with the religious sanction of a kind of zoolatry) is in force and has worked to the same result, in africa, asia, america, and australia, while a host of minute facts make it a reasonable conclusion that it prevailed in europe. among these facts certain peculiarities of greek and roman and hindoo marriage law, greek, latin, and english tribal names, and a crowd of legends are the most prominent. { } mr. max muller's doctrine of the development of indian religion (while admitting the existence of snake or naga tribes) takes no account of the action of this universal zoolatry on religion and society. after marriage and after tribal institutions, look at _rank_. is it not obvious that the religious elements (magic and necromancy) left out of his reckoning by mr. muller are most powerful in developing rank? even among those democratic paupers, the fuegians, 'the doctor-wizard of each party has much influence over his companions.' among those other democrats, the eskimo, a class of wizards, called angakuts, become 'a kind of civil magistrates,' because they can cause fine weather, and can magically detect people who commit offences. thus the germs of rank, in these cases, are sown by the magic which is fetichism in action. try the zulus: 'the heaven is the chief's,' he can call up clouds and storms, hence the sanction of his authority. in new zealand, every rangatira has a supernatural power. if he touches an article, no one else dares to appropriate it, for fear of terrible supernatural consequences. a head chief is 'tapued an inch thick, and perfectly unapproachable.' magical power abides in and emanates from him. by this superstition, an aristocracy is formed, and property (the property, at least, of the aristocracy) is secured. among the red indians, as schoolcraft says, 'priests and jugglers are the persons that make war and have a voice in the sale of the land.' mr. e. w. robertson says much the same thing about early scotland. if odin was not a god with the gifts of a medicine- man, and did not owe his chiefship to his talent for dealing with magic, he is greatly maligned. the irish brehons also sanctioned legal decisions by magical devices, afterwards condemned by the church. among the zulus, 'the itongo (spirit) dwells with the great man; he who dreams is the chief of the village.' the chief alone can 'read in the vessel of divination.' the kaneka chiefs are medicine-men. here then, in widely distant regions, in early european, american, melanesian, african societies, we find those factors in religion which the primitive aryans are said to have dispensed with, helping to construct society, rank, property. is it necessary to add that the ancestral spirits still 'rule the present from the past,' and demand sacrifice, and speak to 'him who dreams,' who, therefore, is a strong force in society, if not a chief? mr. herbert spencer, mr. tylor, m. fustel de coulanges, a dozen others, have made all this matter of common notoriety. as hearne the traveller says about the copper river indians, 'it is almost necessary that they who rule them should profess something a little supernatural to enable them to deal with the people.' the few examples we have given show how widely, and among what untutored races, the need is felt. the rudimentary government of early peoples requires, and, by aid of dreams, necromancy, 'medicine' (i.e. fetiches), tapu, and so forth, obtains, a supernatural sanction. where is the supernatural sanction that consecrated the chiefs of a race which woke to the sense of the existence of infinite beings, in face of trees, rivers, the dawn, the sun, and had none of the so-called late and corrupt fetichism that does such useful social work? to the student of other early societies, mr. muller's theory of the growth of aryan religion seems to leave society without cement, and without the most necessary sanctions. one man is as good as another, before a tree, a river, a hill. the savage organisers of other societies found out fetiches and ghosts that were 'respecters of persons.' zoolatry is intertwisted with the earliest and most widespread law of prohibited degrees. how did the hindoos dispense with the aid of these superstitions? well, they did not quite dispense with them. mr. max muller remarks, almost on his last page ( ), that 'in india also . . . the thoughts and feelings about those whom death had separated from us for a time, supplied some of the earliest and most important elements of religion.' if this was the case, surely the presence of those elements and their influence should have been indicated along with the remarks about the awfulness of trees and the suggestiveness of rivers. is nothing said about the spirits of the dead and their cult in the vedas? much is said, of course. but, were it otherwise, then other elements of savage religion may also have been neglected there, and it will be impossible to argue that fetichism did not exist because it is not mentioned. it will also be impossible to admit that the 'hibbert lectures' give more than a one-sided account of the origin of indian religion. the perusal of mr. max muller's book deeply impresses one with the necessity of studying early religions and early societies simultaneously. if it be true that early indian religion lacked precisely those superstitions, so childish, so grotesque, and yet so useful, which we find at work in contemporary tribes, and which we read of in history, the discovery is even more remarkable and important than the author of the 'hibbert lectures' seems to suppose. it is scarcely necessary to repeat that the negative evidence of the vedas, the religious utterances of sages, made in a time of what we might call 'heroic culture,' can never disprove the existence of superstitions which, if current in the former experience of the race, the hymnists, as barth observes, would intentionally ignore. our object has been to defend the 'primitiveness of fetichism.' by this we do not mean to express any opinion as to whether fetichism (in the strictest sense of the word) was or was not earlier than totemism, than the worship of the dead, or than the involuntary sense of awe and terror with which certain vast phenomena may have affected the earliest men. we only claim for the powerful and ubiquitous practices of fetichism a place _among_ the early elements of religion, and insist that what is so universal has not yet been shown to be 'a corruption' of something older and purer. one remark of mr. max muller's fortifies these opinions. if fetichism be indeed one of the earliest factors of faith in the supernatural; if it be, in its rudest forms, most powerful in proportion to other elements of faith among the least cultivated races (and _that_ mr. muller will probably allow)--among what class of cultivated peoples will it longest hold its ground? clearly, among the least cultivated, among the fishermen, the shepherds of lonely districts, the peasants of outlying lands--in short, among the _people_. neglected by sacred poets in the culminating period of purity in religion, it will linger among the superstitions of the rustics. there is no real break in the continuity of peasant life; the modern folklore is (in many points) the savage ritual. now mr. muller, when he was minimising the existence of fetichism in the rig veda (the oldest collection of hymns), admitted its existence in the atharvana (p. ). { } on p. , we read 'the atharva-veda-sanhita is a later collection, containing, besides a large number of rig veda verses, _some curious relics of popular poetry connected with charms, imprecations, and other superstitious usages_.' the italics are mine, and are meant to emphasise this fact:--when we leave the sages, the rishis, and look at what is _popular_, look at what that class believed which of savage practice has everywhere retained so much, we are at once among the charms and the fetiches! this is precisely what one would have expected. if the history of religion and of mythology is to be unravelled, we must examine what the unprogressive classes in europe have in common with australians, and bushmen, and andaman islanders. it is the function of the people to retain in folklore these elements of religion, which it is the high duty of the sage and the poet to purify away in the fire of refining thought. it is for this very reason that _ritual_ has (though mr. max muller curiously says that it seems not to possess) an immense scientific interest. ritual holds on, with the tenacity of superstition, to all that has ever been practised. yet, when mr. muller wants to know about _origins_, about actual ancient _practice_, he deliberately turns to that 'great collection of ancient poetry' (the rig veda) 'which has no special reference to sacrificial acts,' not to the brahmanas which are full of ritual. to sum up briefly:--( ) mr. muller's arguments against the evidence for, and the primitiveness of, fetichism seem to demonstrate the opposite of that which he intends them to prove. ( ) his own evidence for _primitive_ practice is chosen from the documents of a _cultivated_ society. ( ) his theory deprives that society of the very influences which have elsewhere helped the tribe, the family, rank, and priesthoods to grow up, and to form the backbone of social existence. the early history of the family. what are the original forms of the human family? did man begin by being monogamous or polygamous, but, in either case, the master of his own home and the assured central point of his family relations? or were the unions of the sexes originally shifting and precarious, so that the wisest child was not expected to know his own father, and family ties were reckoned through the mother alone? again (setting aside the question of what was 'primitive' and 'original'), did the needs and barbarous habits of early men lead to a scarcity of women, and hence to polyandry (that is, the marriage of one woman to several men), with the consequent uncertainty about male parentage? once more, admitting that these loose and strange relations of the sexes do prevail, or have prevailed, among savages, is there any reason to suppose that the stronger races, the aryan and semitic stocks, ever passed through this stage of savage customs? these are the main questions debated between what we may call the 'historical' and the 'anthropological' students of ancient customs. when sir henry maine observed, in , that it was difficult to say what society of men had _not been_, originally, based on the patriarchal family, he went, of course, outside the domain of history. what occurred in the very origin of human society is a question perhaps quite inscrutable. certainly, history cannot furnish the answer. here the anthropologist and physiologist come in with their methods, and even those, we think, can throw but an uncertain light on the very 'origin' of institutions, and on strictly primitive man. for the purposes of this discussion, we shall here re-state the chief points at issue between the adherents of sir henry maine and of mr. m'lennan, between historical and anthropological inquirers. . did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, or did he live in more or less modified promiscuity, with uncertainty of blood-ties, and especially of male parentage? . did circumstances and customs at some time compel or induce man (whatever his _original_ condition) to resort to practices which made paternity uncertain, and so caused kinship to be reckoned through women? . granting that some races have been thus reduced to matriarchal forms of the family--that is, to forms in which the woman is the permanent recognised centre--is there any reason to suppose that the stronger peoples, like the aryans and the semites, ever passed through a stage of culture in which female, not male, kinship was chiefly recognised, probably as a result of polyandry, of many husbands to one wife? on this third question, it will be necessary to produce much evidence of very different sorts: evidence which, at best, can perhaps only warrant an inference, or presumption, in favour of one or the other opinion. for the moment, the impartial examination of testimony is more important and practicable than the establishment of any theory. ( .) did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, the male being master of his female mate or mates, and of his children? on this first point sir henry maine, in his new volume, { a} may be said to come as near proving his case as the nature and matter of the question will permit. bachofen, m'lennan, and morgan, all started from a hypothetical state of more or less modified sexual promiscuity. bachofen's evidence (which may be referred to later) was based on a great mass of legends, myths, and travellers' tales, chiefly about early aryan practices. he discovered hetarismus, as he called it, or promiscuity, among lydians, etruscans, persians, thracians, cyrenian nomads, egyptians, scythians, troglodytes, nasamones, and so forth. mr. m'lennan's view is, perhaps, less absolutely stated than sir henry maine supposes. m'lennan says { b} 'that there has been a stage in the development of the human races, when there was no such appropriation of women to particular men; when, in short, marriage, _as it exists among civilised nations_, was not practised. marriage, _in this sense_, was yet undreamt of.' mr. m'lennan adds (pp. , ), 'as among other gregarious animals, the unions of the sexes were probably, in the earliest times, loose, transitory, and, _in some degree_, promiscuous.' sir henry maine opposes to mr. m'lennan's theory the statement of mr. darwin: 'from all we know of the passions of all male quadrupeds, promiscuous intercourse in a state of nature is highly improbable.' { } on this first question, let us grant to sir henry maine, to mr. darwin, and to common sense that if the very earliest men were extremely animal in character, their unions while they lasted were probably monogamous or polygamous. the sexual jealousy of the male would secure that result, as it does among many other animals. let the first point, then, be scored to sir henry maine: let it be granted that if man was created perfect, he lived in the monogamous family before the fall: and that, if he was evolved as an animal, the unchecked animal instincts would make for monogamy or patriarchal polygamy in the strictly primitive family. ( .) did circumstances and customs ever or anywhere compel or induce man (whatever his original condition) to resort to practices which made paternity uncertain, and so caused the absence of the patriarchal family, kinship being reckoned through women? if this question be answered in the affirmative, and if the sphere of action of the various causes be made wide enough, it will not matter much to mr. m'lennan's theory whether the strictly primitive family was patriarchal or not. if there occurred a fall from the primitive family, and if that fall was extremely general, affecting even the aryan race, mr. m'lennan's adherents will be amply satisfied. their object is to show that the family, even in the aryan race, was developed through a stage of loose savage connections. if that can be shown, they do not care much about primitive man properly so called. sir henry maine admits, as a matter of fact, that among certain races, in certain districts, circumstances have overridden the sexual jealousy which secures the recognition of male parentage. where women have been few, and where poverty has been great, jealousy has been suppressed, even in the venice of the eighteenth century. sir h. maine says, 'the usage' (that of polyandry--many husbands to a single wife) 'seems to me one which circumstances overpowering morality and decency might at any time call into existence. it is known to have arisen in the native indian army.' the question now is, what are the circumstances that overpower morality and decency, and so produce polyandry, with its necessary consequences, when it is a recognised institution--the absence of the patriarchal family, and the recognition of kinship through women? any circumstances which cause great scarcity of women will conduce to those results. mr. m'lennan's opinion was, that the chief cause of scarcity of women has been the custom of female infanticide--of killing little girls as bouches inutiles. sir henry maine admits that 'the cause assigned by m'lennan is a vera causa--it is capable of producing the effects.' { } mr. m'lennan collected a very large mass of testimony to prove the wide existence of this cause of paucity of women. till that evidence is published, i can only say that it was sufficient, in mr. m'lennan's opinion, to demonstrate the wide prevalence of the factor which is the mainspring of his whole system. { a} how frightfully female infanticide has prevailed in india, everyone may read in the official reports of col. m'pherson, and other english authorities. mr. fison's 'kamilaroi and kurnai' contains some notable, though not to my mind convincing, arguments on the other side. sir henry maine adduces another cause of paucity of women: the wanderings of our race, and expeditions across sea. { b} this cause would not, however, be important enough to alter forms of kinship, where the invaders (like the early english in britain) found a population which they could conquer and whose women they could appropriate. apart from any probable inferences that may be drawn from the presumed practice of female infanticide, actual ascertained facts prove that many races do not now live, or that recently they did not live, in the patriarchal or modern family. they live, or did live, in polyandrous associations. the thibetans, the nairs, the early inhabitants of britain (according to caesar), and many other races, { } as well as the inhabitants of the marquesas islands, and the iroquois (according to lafitau), practise, or have practised, polyandry. we now approach the third and really important problem--( .) is there any reason to suppose that the stronger peoples, like the aryans and the semites, ever passed through a stage of culture in which female, not male, kinship was chiefly recognised, probably as a result of polyandry? now the nature of the evidence which affords a presumption that aryans have all passed through australian institutions such as polyandry, is of extremely varied character. much of it may undoubtedly be explained away. but such strength as the evidence has (which we do not wish to exaggerate) is derived from its convergence to one point--namely, the anterior existence of polyandry and the matriarchal family among aryans before and after the dawn of real history. for the sake of distinctness we may here number the heads of the evidence bearing on this question. we have-- . the evidence of inference from the form of capture in bridal ceremonies. . the evidence from exogamy: the law which forbids marriage between persons of the same family name. . the evidence from totemism--that is, the derivation of the family name and crest or badge, from some natural object, plant or animal. { } persons bearing the name may not intermarry, nor, as a rule, may they eat the object from which they derive their family name and from which they claim to be descended. . the evidence from the gens of rome, or [greek] of ancient greece, in connection with totemism. . the evidence from myth and legend. . the evidence from direct historical statements as to the prevalence of the matriarchal family, and inheritance through the maternal line. to take these various testimonies in their order, let us begin with ( .) the form of capture in bridal ceremonies. that this form survived in sparta, crete, in hindoo law, in the traditions of ireland, in the popular rustic customs of wales, is not denied. if we hold, with mr. m'lennan, that scarcity of women (produced by female infanticide or otherwise) is the cause of the habit of capturing wives, we may see, in survivals of this ceremony of capture among aryans, a proof of early scarcity of women, and of probable polyandry. but an opponent may argue, like mr. j. a. farrer in 'primitive manners,' that the ceremony of capture is mainly a concession to maiden modesty among early races. here one may observe that the girls of savage tribes are notoriously profligate and immodest about illicit connections. only honourable marriage brings a blush to the cheek of these young persons. this is odd, but, in the present state of the question, we cannot lean on the evidence of the ceremony of capture. we cannot demonstrate that it is derived from a time when paucity of women made capture of brides necessary. thus 'honours are easy' in this first deal. ( .) the next indication is very curious, and requires much more prolonged discussion. the custom of exogamy was first noted and named by mr. m'lennan. exogamy is the prohibition of marriage within the supposed blood-kinship, as denoted by the family name. such marriage, among many backward races, is reckoned incestuous, and is punishable by death. certain peculiarities in connection with the family name have to be noted later. now, sir henry maine admits that exogamy, as thus defined, exists among the hindoos. 'a hindoo may not marry a woman belonging to the same gotra, all members of the gotra being theoretically supposed to have descended from the same ancestor.' the same rule prevails in china. 'there are in china large bodies of related clansmen, each generally bearing the same clan-name. they are exogamous; no man will marry a woman having the same clan-name with himself.' it is admitted by sir henry maine that this wide prohibition of marriage was the early aryan rule, while advancing civilisation has gradually permitted marriage within limits once forbidden. the greek church now (according to mr. m'lennan), and the catholic church in the past, forbade intermarriages 'as far as relationship could be known.' the hindoo rule appears to go still farther, and to prohibit marriage as far as the common gotra name seems merely to indicate relationship. as to the ancient romans, plutarch says: formerly they did not marry women connected with them by blood, any more than they now marry aunts or sisters. it was long before they would even intermarry with cousins.' plutarch also remarks that, in times past, romans did not marry [greek], and if we may render this 'women of the same gens,' the exogamous prohibition in rome was as complete as among the hindoos. i do not quite gather from sir henry maine's account of the slavonic house communities (pp. , ) whether they dislike _all_ kindred marriages, or only marriage within the 'greater blood'--that is, within the kinship on the male side. he says: 'the south slavonians bring their wives into the group, in which they are socially organised, from a considerable distance outside. . . . every marriage which requires an ecclesiastical dispensation is regarded as disreputable.' on the whole, wide prohibitions of marriage are archaic: the widest are savage; the narrowest are modern and civilised. thus the hindoo prohibition is old, barbarous, and wide. 'the barbarous aryan,' says sir henry maine, 'is generally exogamous. he has a most extensive table of prohibited degrees.' thus exogamy seems to be a survival of barbarism. the question for us is, can we call exogamy a survival from a period when (owing to scarcity of women and polyandry) clear ideas of kinship were impossible? if this can be proved, exogamous aryans either passed through polyandrous institutions, or borrowed a savage custom derived from a period when ideas of kinship were obscure. if we only knew the origin of the prohibition to marry within the family name all would be plain sailing. at present several theories of the origin of exogamy are before the world. mr. morgan, the author of 'ancient society,' inclines to trace the prohibition to a great early physiological discovery, acted on by primitive men by virtue of a contrat social. early man discovered that children of unsound constitutions were born of nearly related parents. mr. morgan says: 'primitive men very early discovered the evils of close interbreeding.' elsewhere mr. morgan writes: 'intermarriage in the gens was prohibited, to secure the benefits of marrying out with unrelated persons.' this arrangement was 'a product of high intelligence,' and mr. morgan calls it a 'reform.' let us examine this very curious theory. first: mr. morgan supposes early man to have made a discovery (the evils of the marriage of near kin) which evades modern physiological science. modern science has not determined that the marriages of kinsfolk are pernicious. is it credible that savages should discover a fact which puzzles science? it may be replied that modern care, nursing, and medical art save children of near marriages from results which were pernicious to the children of early man. secondly: mr. morgan supposes that barbarous man (so notoriously reckless of the morrow as he is), not only made the discovery of the evils of interbreeding, but acted on it with promptitude and self-denial. thirdly: mr. morgan seems to require, for the enforcement of the exogamous law, a contrat social. the larger communities meet, and divide themselves into smaller groups, within which wedlock is forbidden. this 'social pact' is like a return to the ideas of rousseau. fourthly: the hypothesis credits early men with knowledge and discrimination of near degrees of kin, which they might well possess if they lived in patriarchal families. but it represents that they did not act on their knowledge. instead of prohibiting marriage between parents and children, cousins, nephews and aunts, uncles and nieces, they prohibited marriage within the limit of the name of the kin. this is still the hindoo rule, and, if the romans really might not at one time marry within the gens, it was the roman rule. now observe, this rule fails to effect the very purpose for which ex hypothesi it was instituted. where the family name goes by the male side, marriages between cousins are permitted, as in india and china. these are the very marriages which some theorists now denounce as pernicious. but, if the family name goes by the female side, marriages between half-brothers and half-sisters are permitted, as in ancient athens and among the hebrews of abraham's time. once more, the exogamous prohibition excludes, in china, america, africa, australia, persons who are in no way akin (according to our ideas) from intermarriage. thus mr. doolittle writes: { } 'males and females of the same surname will never intermarry in china. cousins who have not the same ancestral surname may intermarry. though the ancestors of persons of the same surname have not known each other for thousands of years, they may not intermarry.' the hindoo gotra rule produces the same effects. for all these reasons, and because of the improbability of the physiological discovery, and of the moral 'reform' which enforced it; and again, because the law is not of the sort which people acquainted with near degrees of kinship would make; and once more, because the law fails to effect its presumed purpose, while it does attain ends at which it does not aim--we cannot accept mr. morgan's suggestion as to the origin of exogamy. mr. m'lennan did not live to publish a subtle theory of the origin of exogamy, which he had elaborated. in 'studies in ancient history,' he hazarded a conjecture based on female infanticide:-- 'we believe the restrictions on marriage to be connected with the practice in early times of female infanticide, which, rendering women scarce, led at once to polyandry within the tribe, and the capturing of women from without. . . . hence the cruel custom which, leaving the primitive human hordes with very few young women of their own, occasionally with none, and in any case seriously disturbing the balance of the sexes within the hordes, forces them to prey upon one another for wives. usage, induced by necessity, would in time establish a prejudice among the tribes observing it, a prejudice strong as a principle of religion--as every prejudice relating to marriage is apt to be--against marrying women of their own stock.' mr. m'lennan describes his own hypothesis as 'a suggestion thrown out at what it was worth.' { } in his later years, as we have said, he developed a very subtle and ingenious theory of the origin of exogamy, still connecting it with scarcity of women, but making use of various supposed stages and processes in the development of the law. that speculation remains unpublished. to myself, the suggestion given in 'studies in ancient history' seems inadequate. i find it difficult to conceive that the frequent habit of stealing women should indispose men to marry the native women they had at hand. that this indisposition should grow into a positive law, and the infringement of the law be regarded as a capital offence, seems still more inconceivable. my own impression is, that exogamy may be connected with some early superstition or idea of which we have lost the touch, and which we can no longer explain. thus far, the consideration of exogamy has thrown no clear light on the main question--the question whether the customs of civilised races contain relics of female kinship. on sir henry maine's theory of exogamy, that aryan custom is unconnected with female kinship, polyandry, and scarcity of women. on mr. m'lennan's theory, exogamy is the result of scarcity of women, and implies polyandry and female kinship. but neither theory has seemed satisfactory. yet we need not despair of extracting some evidence from exogamy, and that evidence, on the whole, is in favour of mr. m'lennan's general hypothesis. ( .) the exogamous prohibition must have first come into force _when kinship was only reckoned on one side of the family_. this is obvious, whether we suppose it to have arisen in a society which reckoned by male or by female kinship. in the former case, the law only prohibits marriage with persons of the father's, in the second case with persons of the mother's, family name, and these only it recognises as kindred. ( .) our second point is much more important. the exogamous prohibition must first have come into force _when kinship was so little understood that it could best be denoted by the family name_. this would be self-evident, if we could suppose the prohibition to be intended to prevent marriages of relations. had the authors of the prohibition been acquainted with the nature of near kinships, they would simply (as we do) have forbidden marriage between persons in those degrees. the very nature of the prohibition, on the other hand, shows that kinship was understood in a manner all unlike our modern system. the limit of kindred was everywhere the family name: a limit which excludes many real kinsfolk and includes many who are not kinsfolk at all. in australia especially, and in america, india, and africa, to a slighter extent, that definition of kindred by the family name actually includes alligators, smoke, paddy melons, rain, crayfish, sardines, and what you please. { } will anyone assert, then, that people among whom the exogamous prohibition arose were organised on the system of the patriarchal family, which permits the nature of kinship to be readily understood at a glance? is it not plain that the exogamous prohibition (confessedly aryan) must have arisen in a stage of culture when ideas of kindred were confused, included kinship with animals and plants, and were to us almost, if not quite, unintelligible? it is even possible, as mr. m'lennan says, { } 'that the prejudice against marrying women of the same group may have been established _before the facts of blood relationship had made any deep impression on the human mind_.' how the exogamous prohibition tends to confirm this view will next be set forth in our consideration of _totemism_. the evidence from totemism.--totemism is the name for the custom by which a stock (scattered through many local tribes) claims descent from and kindred with some plant, animal, or other natural object. this object, of which the effigy is sometimes worn as a badge or crest, members of the stock refuse to eat. as a general rule, marriage is prohibited between members of the stock--between all, that is, who claim descent from the same object and wear the same badge. the exogamous limit, therefore, is denoted by the stock-name and crest, and kinship is kinship in the wolf, bear, potato, or whatever other object is recognised as the original ancestor. finally, as a general rule, the stock-name is derived through the mother, and where it is derived through the father there are proofs that the custom is comparatively modern. it will be acknowledged that this sort of kindred, which is traced to a beast, bird, or tree, which is recognised in every person bearing the same stock-name, which is counted through females, and which governs marriage customs, is not the sort of kindred which would naturally arise among people regulated on the patriarchal or monandrous family system. totemism, however, is a widespread institution prevailing all over the north of the american continent, also in peru (according to garcilasso de la vega); in guiana (the negroes have brought it from the african gold coast, where it is in full force, as it also is among the bechuanas); in india among hos, garos, kassos, and oraons; in the south sea islands, where it has left strong traces in mangaia; in siberia, and especially in the great island continent of australia. the semitic evidences for totemism (animal-worship, exogamy, descent claimed through females) are given by professor robertson smith, in the 'journal of philology,' ix. , 'animal worship and animal tribes among the arabs, and in the old testament.' many other examples of totemism might be adduced (especially from egypt), but we must restrict ourselves to the following questions:-- ( .) what light is thrown on the original form of the family by totemism? ( .) where we find survivals of totemism among civilised races, may we conclude that these races (through scarcity of women) had once been organised on other than the patriarchal model? as to the first question, we must remember that the origin and determining causes of totemism are still unknown. mr. m'lennan's theory of the origin of totemism has never been published. it may be said without indiscretion that mr. m'lennan thought totemism arose at a period when ideas of kinship scarcely existed at all. 'men only thought of marking one off from another,' as garcilasso de la vega says: the totem was but a badge worn by all the persons who found themselves existing in close relations; perhaps in the same cave or set of caves. people united by contiguity, and by the blind sentiment of kinship not yet brought into explicit consciousness, might mark themselves by a badge, and might thence derive a name, and, later, might invent a myth of their descent from the object which the badge represented. i do not know whether it has been observed that the totems are, as a rule, objects which may be easily drawn or tattooed, and still more easily indicated in gesture-language. some interesting facts will be found in the 'first annual report of the bureau of ethnology,' p. (washington, ). here we read how the 'crow' tribe is indicated in sign-language by 'the hands held out on each side, striking the air in the manner of flying.' the bunaks (another bird tribe) are indicated by an imitation of the cry of the bird. in mentioning the snakes, the hand imitates the crawling motion of the serpent, and the fingers pointed up behind the ear denote the wolves. plainly names of the totem sort are well suited to the convenience of savages, who converse much in gesture-language. above all, the very nature of totemism shows that it took its present shape at a time when men, animals, and plants were conceived of as physically akin; when names were handed on through the female line; when exogamy was the rule of marriage, and when the family theoretically included all persons bearing the same family name, that is, all who claimed kindred with the same plant, animal, or object, whether the persons are really akin or not. these ideas and customs are not the ideas natural to men organised in the patriarchal family. the second question now arises: can we infer from survivals of totemism among aryans that these aryans had once been organised on the full totemistic principle, probably with polyandry, and certainly with female descent? where totemism now exists in full force, there we find exogamy and derivation of the family name through women, the latter custom indicating uncertainty of male parentage in the past. are we to believe that the same institutions have existed wherever we find survivals of totemism? if this be granted, and if the supposed survivals of totemism among aryans be accepted as genuine, then the aryans have distinctly come through a period of kinship reckoned through women, with all that such an institution implies. for indications that the aryans of greece and india have passed through the stage of totemism, the reader may be referred to mr. m'lennan's 'worship of plants and animals' ('fortnightly review,' , ). the evidence there adduced is not all of the same value, and the papers are only a hasty rough sketch based on the first testimonies that came to hand. probably the most important 'survival' of totemism in greek legend is the body of stories about the amours of zeus in animal form. various noble houses traced their origin to zeus or apollo, who, as a bull, tortoise, serpent, swan, or ant, had seduced the mother of the race. the mother of the arcadians became a she-bear, like the mother of the bear stock of the iroquois. as we know plenty of races all over the world who trace their descent from serpents, tortoises, swans, and so forth, it is a fair hypothesis that the ancestors of the greeks once believed in the same fables. in later times the swan, serpent, ant, or tortoise was explained as an avatar of zeus. the process by which an anthropomorphic god or hero succeeds to the exploits of animals, of theriomorphic gods and heroes, is the most common in mythology, and is illustrated by actual practice in modern india. when the brahmins convert a pig-worshipping tribe of aboriginals, they tell their proselytes that the pig was an avatar of vishnu. the same process is found active where the japanese have influenced the savage ainos, and persuaded them that their bear- or dog-father was a manifestation of a deity. we know from plutarch ('theseus') that, in addition to families claiming descent from divine animals, one athenian [greek], the ioxidae, revered an ancestral plant, the asparagus. a vaguer indication of totemism may perhaps be detected in the ancient theriomorphic statues of greek gods, as the ram-zeus and the horse-headed demeter, and in the various animals and plants which were sacred to each god and represented as his companions. the hints of totemism among the ancient irish are interesting. one hero, conaire, was the son of a bird, and before his birth his father (the bird) told the woman (his mother) that the child must never eat the flesh of fowls. 'thy son shall be named conaire, and that son shall not kill birds.' { a} the hero cuchullain, being named after the dog, might not eat the flesh of the dog, and came by his ruin after transgressing this totemistic taboo. races named after animals were common in ancient ireland. the red-deer and the wolves were tribes dwelling near ossory, and professor rhys, from the frequency of dog names, inclines to believe in a dog totem in erin. according to the ancient irish 'wonders of eri,' in the 'book of glendaloch,' 'the descendants of the wolf are in ossory,' and they could still transform themselves into wolves. { b} as to our anglo-saxon ancestors, there is little evidence beyond the fact that the patronymic names of many of the early settlements of billings, arlings, and the rest, are undeniably derived from animals and plants. the manner in which those names are scattered locally is precisely like what results in america, africa, and australia from the totemistic organisation. { c} in italy the ancient custom by which animals were the leaders of the ver sacrum or armed migration is well known. the piceni had for their familiar animal or totem (if we may call it so) a woodpecker; the hirpini were like the 'descendants of the wolf' in ossory, and practised a wolf-dance in which they imitated the actions of the animal. such is a summary of the evidence which shows that aryans had once been totemists, therefore savages, and therefore, again, had probably been in a stage when women were scarce and each woman had many husbands. evidence from the gens or [greek].--there is no more puzzling topic in the history of the ancient world than the origin and nature of the community called by the romans the gens, and by the greeks the [greek]. to the present writer it seems that no existing community of men, neither totem kin, nor clan, nor house community, nor gotra, precisely answers to the gens or the [greek]. our information about these forms of society is slight and confused. the most essential thing to notice for the moment is the fact that both in greece and rome the [greek] and gens were extremely ancient, so ancient that the [greek] was decaying in greece when history begins, while in rome we can distinctly see the rapid decadence and dissolution of the gens. in the laws of the twelve tables, the gens is a powerful and respected corporation. in the time of cicero the nature of the gens is a matter but dimly understood. tacitus begins to be confused about the gentile nomenclature. in the empire gentile law fades away. in greece, especially at athens, the early political reforms transferred power from the [greek] to a purely local organisation, the deme. the greek of historical times did not announce his [greek] in his name (as the romans always did), but gave his own name, that of his father, and that of his deme. thus we may infer that in greek and roman society the [greek] and gens were dying, not growing, organisations. in very early times it is probable that foreign gentes were adopted en bloc into the roman commonwealth. very probably, too, a great family, on entering the roman bond, may have assumed, by a fiction, the character and name of a gens. but that roman society in historical times, or that greek society, could evolve a new gens or [greek] in a normal natural way, seems excessively improbable. keeping in mind the antique and 'obsolescent' character of the gens and [greek], let us examine the theories of the origin of these associations. the romans themselves knew very little about the matter. cicero quotes the dictum of scaevola the pontifex, according to which the gens consisted of _all persons of the same gentile name_ who were not in any way disqualified. { } thus, in america, or australia, or africa, all persons bearing the same totem name belong to that totem kin. festus defines members of a gens as persons of the same stock and same family name. varro says (in illustration of the relationships of words and cases) 'ab aemilio homines orti aemilii sunt gentiles.' the two former definitions answer to the conception of a totem kin, which is united by its family name and belief in identity of origin. varro adds the element, in the roman gens, of common descent from one male ancestor. such was the conception of the gens in historical times. it was in its way an association of kinsfolk, real or supposed. according to the laws of the twelve tables the gentiles inherited the property of an intestate man without agnates, and had the custody of lunatics in the same circumstances. the gens had its own sacellum or chapel, and its own sacra or religious rites. the whole gens occasionally went into mourning when one of its members was unfortunate. it would be interesting if it could be shown that the sacra were usually examples of ancestor-worship, but the faint indications on the subject scarcely permit us to assert this. on the whole, sir henry maine strongly clings to the belief that the gens commonly had 'a real core of agnatic consanguinity from the very first.' but he justly recognises the principle of imitation, which induces men to copy any fashionable institution. whatever the real origin of the gens, many gentes were probably copies based on the fiction of common ancestry. on sir henry maine's system, then, the gens rather proves the constant existence of recognised male descents among the peoples where it exists. the opposite theory of the gens is that to which mr. m'lennan inclined. 'the composition and organisation of greek and roman tribes and commonwealths cannot well be explained except on the hypothesis that they resulted from the joint operation, in early times, of exogamy, and the system of kinship through females only.' { } 'the gens', he adds, 'was composed of all the persons in the tribe bearing the same name and accounted of the same stock. were the gentes really of different stocks, as their names would imply and as the people believed? if so, how came clans of different stocks to be united in the same tribe? . . . how came a variety of such groups, of different stocks, to coalesce in a local tribe?' these questions, mr. m'lennan thought, could not be answered on the patriarchal hypothesis. his own theory, or rather his theory as understood by the present writer, may be stated thus. in the earliest times there were homogeneous groups, which became, totem kin. let us say that, in a certain district, there were groups called woodpeckers, wolves, bears, suns, swine, each with its own little territory. these groups were exogamous, and derived the name through the mother. thus, in course of time, when sun men married a wolf girl, and her children were wolves, there would be wolves in the territory of the suns, and thus each stock would be scattered through all the localities, just as we see in australia and america. let us suppose that (as certainly is occurring in australia and america) paternal descent comes to be recognised in custom. this change will not surprise sir henry maine, who admits that a system of male may alter, under stress of circumstances, to a system of female descents. in course of time, and as knowledge and common sense advance, the old superstition of descent from a woodpecker, a bear, a wolf, the sun, or what not, becomes untenable. a human name is assumed by the group which had called itself the woodpeckers or the wolves, or perhaps by a local tribe in which several of these stocks are included. then a fictitious human ancestor is adopted, and perhaps even adored. thus the wolves might call themselves claudii, from their chief's name, and, giving up belief in descent from a wolf, might look back to a fancied ancestor named claudius. the result of these changes will be that an exogamous totem kin, with female descent, has become a gens, with male kinship, and only the faintest trace of exogamy. an example of somewhat similar processes must have occurred in the highland clans after the introduction of christianity, when the chief's christian name became the patronymic of the people who claimed kinship with him and owned his sway. are there any traces at all of totemism in what we know of the roman gentes? certainly the traces are very slight; perhaps they are only visible to the eye of the intrepid anthropologist. i give them for what they are worth, merely observing that they do tally, as far as they go, with the totemistic theory. the reader interested in the subject may consult the learned streinnius's 'de gentibus romanis,' p. (aldus, venice, ). among well-known savage totems none is more familiar than the sun. men claim descent from the sun, call themselves by his name, and wear his effigy as a badge. { } were there suns in rome? the aurelian gens is thus described on the authority of festus pompeius:--'the aurelii were of sabine descent. the aurelii were so named from the sun (aurum, urere, the burning thing), because a place was set apart for them in which to pay adoration to the sun.' here, at least, is an odd coincidence. among other gentile names, the fabii, cornelii, papirii, pinarii, cassii, are possibly connected with plants; while wild etymology may associate porcii, aquilii, and valerii with swine and eagles. pliny ('h. n.' xviii. ) gives a fantastic explanation of the vegetable names of roman gentes. we must remember that vegetable names are very common in american, indian, african, and australian totem kin. of sun names the natchez and the incas of peru are familiar examples. turning from rome to greece, we find the [greek] less regarded and more decadent than the gens. yet, according to grote (iii. ) the [greek] had--(l) sacra, 'in honour of the same god, supposed to be the primitive ancestor.' ( ) a common burial-place. ( ) certain rights of succession to property. ( ) obligations of mutual help and defence. ( ) mutual rights and obligations to intermarry in certain cases. ( ) occasionally possession of common property. traces of the totem among the greek [greek] are, naturally, few. almost all the known [greek] bore patronymics derived from personal names. but it is not without significance that the attic demes often adopted the names of obsolescent [greek], and that those names were, as mr. grote says, often 'derived from the plants and shrubs which grew in their neighbourhood.' we have already seen that at least one attic [greek], the ioxidae, revered the plant from which they derived their lineage. one thing is certain, the totem names, and a common explanation of the totem names in australia, correspond with the names and mr. grote's explanation of the names of the attic demes. 'one origin of family names,' says sir george grey (ii. ), 'frequently ascribed by the natives, is that they were derived from some vegetable or animal being common in the district which the family inhabited.' some writers attempt to show that the attic [greek] was once exogamous and counted kin on the mother's side, by quoting the custom which permitted a man to marry his half-sister, the child of his father but not of his mother. they infer that this permission is a survival from the time when a man's _father's_ children were not reckoned as his kindred, and when kinship was counted through mothers. sir henry maine (p. ) prefers m. fustel de coulanges' theory, that the marriage of half-brothers and sisters on the father's side was intended to save the portion of the girl to the family estate. proof of this may be adduced from examination of all the recorded cases of such marriages in athens. but the reason thus suggested would have equally justified marriage between brothers and sisters on both sides, and this was reckoned incest. a well-known line in aristophanes shows how intense was athenian feeling about the impiety of relations with a sister uterine. on the whole, the evidence which we have adduced tends to establish some links between the ancient [greek] and gens, and the totem kindreds of savages. the indications are not strong, but they all point in one direction. considering the high civilisation of rome and greece at the very dawn of history--considering the strong natural bent of these peoples toward refinement--it is almost remarkable that even the slight testimonies we have been considering should have survived. ( .) on the evidence from myth and legend we propose to lay little stress. but, as legends were not invented by anthropologists to prove a point, it is odd that the traditions of athens, as preserved by varro, speak of a time when names were derived from the mother, and when promiscuity prevailed. marriage itself was instituted by cecrops, the serpent, just as the lizard, in australia, is credited with this useful invention. { a} similar legends among non-aryan races, chinese and egyptian, are very common. ( .) there remains the evidence of actual fact and custom among aryan peoples. the lycians, according to herodotus, 'have this peculiar custom, _wherein they resemble no other men_, they derive their names from their mothers, and not from their fathers, and through mothers reckon their kin.' status also was derived through the mothers. { b} the old writer's opinion that the custom (so common in australia, america, and africa) was unique, is itself a proof of his good faith. bachofen (p. ) remarks that several lycian inscriptions give the names of mothers only. polybius attributes (assigning a fantastic reason) the same custom of counting kin through mothers to the locrians. { c} the british and irish custom of deriving descents through women is well known, { d} and a story is told to account for the practice. the pedigrees of the british kings show that most did not succeed to their fathers, and the various records of early celtic morals go to prove that no other system of kinship than the maternal would have possessed any value, so uncertain was fatherhood. these are but hints of the prevalence of institutions which survived among teutonic races in the importance attached to the relationship of a man's sister's son. though no longer his legal heir, the sister's son was almost closer than any other kinsman. we have now summarised and indicated the nature of the evidence which, on the whole, inclines us to the belief of mr. m'lennan rather than of sir henry maine. the point to which all the testimony adduced converges, the explanation which most readily solves all the difficulties, is the explanation of mr. m'lennan. the aryan races have very generally passed through the stage of scarcity of women, polyandry, absence of recognised male kinship, and recognition of kinship through women. what sir henry maine admits as the exception, we are inclined to regard as having, in a very remote past, been the rule. no one kind of evidence--neither traces of marriage by capture, of exogamy, of totemism, of tradition, of noted fact among lycians and picts and irish--would alone suffice to guide our opinion in this direction. but the cumulative force of the testimony strikes us as not inconsiderable, and it must be remembered that the testimony has not yet been assiduously collected. let us end by showing how this discussion illustrates the method of folklore. we have found anomalies among aryans. we have seen the gens an odd, decaying institution. we have seen greek families claim descent from various animals, said to be zeus in disguise. we have found them tracing kinship and deriving names from the mother. we have found stocks with animal and vegetable names. we have found half-brothers and sisters marrying. we have noted prohibition to marry anyone of the same family name. all these institutions are odd, anomalous, decaying things among aryans, and the more civilised the aryans the more they decay. all of them are living, active things among savages, and, far from being anomalous, are in precise harmony with savage notions of the world. surely, then, where they seem decaying and anomalous, as among aryans, these customs and laws are mouldering relics of ideas and practices natural and inevitable among savages. the art of savages. { } 'avoid coleridge, he is _useless_,' says mr. ruskin. why should the poetry of coleridge be useful? the question may interest the critic, but we are only concerned with mr. ruskin here, for one reason. his disparagement of coleridge as 'useless' is a survival of the belief that art should be 'useful.' this is the savage's view of art. he imitates nature, in dance, song, or in plastic art, for a definite practical purpose. his dances are magical dances, his images are made for a magical purpose, his songs are incantations. thus the theory that art is a disinterested expression of the imitative faculty is scarcely warranted by the little we know of art's beginnings. we shall adopt, provisionally, the hypothesis that the earliest art with which we are acquainted is that of savages contemporary or extinct. some philosophers may tell us that all known savages are only degraded descendants of early civilised men who have, unluckily and inexplicably, left no relics of their civilisation. but we shall argue on the opposite theory, that the art of australians, for example, is really earlier in kind, more backward, nearer the rude beginnings of things, than the art of people who have attained to some skill in pottery, like the new caledonians. these, again, are much more backward, in a state really much earlier, than the old races of mexico and peru; while they, in turn, show but a few traces of advance towards the art of egypt; and the art of egypt, at least after the times of the ancient empire, is scarcely advancing in the direction of the flawless art of greece. we shall be able to show how savage art, as of the australians, develops into barbarous art, as of the new zealanders; while the arts of strange civilisations, like those of peru and mexico, advance one step further; and how, again, in the early art of greece, in the greek art of ages prior to pericles, there are remains of barbaric forms which are gradually softened into beauty. but there are necessarily breaks and solutions of continuity in the path of progress. one of the oldest problems has already risen before us in connection with the question stated--is art the gratification of the imitative faculty? now, among the lowest, the most untutored, the worst equipped savages of contemporary races, art is rather decorative on the whole than imitative. the patterns on australian shields and clubs, the scars which they raise on their own flesh by way of tattooing, are very rarely imitations of any objects in nature. the australians, like the red indians, like many african and some aboriginal indian races, peruvians, and others, distinguish their families by the names of various plants and animals, from which each family boasts its descent. thus you have a family called kangaroos, descended, as they fancy, from the kangaroo; another from the cockatoo, another from the black snake, and so forth. now, in many quarters of the globe, this custom and this superstition, combined with the imitative faculty in man, has produced a form of art representing the objects from which the families claim descent. this art is a sort of rude heraldry--probably the origin of heraldry. thus, if a red indian (say a delaware) is of the family of the turtle, he blazons a turtle on his shield or coat, probably tattoos or paints his breast with a figure of a turtle, and always has a turtle, _reversed_, designed on the pillar above his grave when he dies, just as, in our mediaeval chronicles, the leopards of an english king are reversed on his scutcheon opposite the record of his death. but the australians, to the best of my knowledge, though they are much governed by belief in descent from animals, do not usually blazon their crest on their flesh, nor on the trees near the place where the dead are buried. they have not arrived at this pitch of imitative art, though they have invented or inherited a kind of runes which they notch on sticks, and in which they convey to each other secret messages. the natives of the upper darling, however, do carve their family crests on their shields. in place of using imitative art, the murri are said, i am not quite sure with what truth, to indicate the distinction of families by arrangements of patterns, lines and dots, tattooed on the breast and arms, and carved on the bark of trees near places of burial. in any case, the absence of the rude imitative art of heraldry among a race which possesses all the social conditions that produce this art is a fact worth noticing, and itself proves that the native art of one of the most backward races we know is not essentially imitative. [fig. . an australian shield: .jpg] anyone who will look through a collection of australian weapons and utensils will be brought to this conclusion. the shields and the clubs are elaborately worked, but almost always without any representation of plants, animals, or the human figure. as a rule the decorations take the simple shape of the 'herring-bone' pattern, or such other patterns as can be produced without the aid of spirals, or curves, or circles. there is a natural and necessary cause of this choice of decoration. the australians, working on hard wood, with tools made of flint, or broken glass, or sharp shell, cannot easily produce any curved lines. everyone who, when a boy, carved his name on the bark of a tree, remembers the difficulty he had with s and g, while he got on easily with letters like m and a, which consist of straight or inclined lines. the savage artist has the same difficulty with his rude tools in producing anything like satisfactory curves or spirals. we engrave above (fig. ) a shield on which an australian has succeeded, with obvious difficulty, in producing concentric ovals of irregular shape. it may be that the artist would have produced perfect circles if he could. his failure is exactly like that of a youthful carver of inscriptions coming to grief over his g's and s's. here, however (fig. ), we have three shields which, like the ancient celtic pipkin (the tallest of the three figures in fig. ), show the earliest known form of savage decorative art--the forms which survive under the names of 'chevron' and 'herring-bone.' these can be scratched on clay with the nails, or a sharp stick, and this primeval way of decorating pottery made without the wheel survives, with other relics of savage art, in the western isles of scotland. the australian had not even learned to make rude clay pipkins, but he decorated his shields as the old celts and modern old scotch women decorated their clay pots, with the herring-bone arrangement of incised lines. in the matter of colour the australians prefer white clay and red ochre, which they rub into the chinks in the woodwork of their shields. when they are determined on an ambush, they paint themselves all over with white, justly conceiving that their sudden apparition in this guise will strike terror into the boldest hearts. but arrangements in black and white of this sort scarcely deserve the name of even rudimentary art. [fig. . shields: .jpg] [fig. . savage ornamentation: .jpg] the australians sometimes introduce crude decorative attempts at designing the human figure, as in the pointed shield opposite (fig. , a), which, with the other australian designs, are from mr. brough smyth's 'aborigines of victoria.' but these ambitious efforts usually end in failure. though the australians chiefly confine themselves to decorative art, there are numbers of wall-paintings, so to speak, in the caves of the country which prove that they, like the bushmen, could design the human figure in action when they pleased. their usual preference for the employment of patterns appears to me to be the result of the nature of their materials. in modern art our mechanical advantages and facilities are so great that we are always carrying the method and manner of one art over the frontier of another. our poetry aims at producing the effects of music; our prose at producing the effects of poetry. our sculpture tries to vie with painting in the representation of action, or with lace- making in the production of reticulated surfaces, and so forth. but the savage, in his art, has sense enough to confine himself to the sort of work for which his materials are fitted. set him in the bush with no implements and materials but a bit of broken shell and a lump of hard wood, and he confines himself to decorative scratches. place the black in the large cave which pundjel, the australian zeus, inhabited when on earth (as zeus inhabited the cave in crete), and give the black plenty of red and white ochre and charcoal, and he will paint the human figure in action on the rocky walls. later, we will return to the cave-paintings of the australians and the bushmen in south africa. at present we must trace purely decorative art a little further. but we must remember that there was once a race apparently in much the same social condition as the australians, but far more advanced and ingenious in art. the earliest men of the european continent, about whom we know much, the men whose bones and whose weapons are found beneath the gravel-drift, the men who were contemporary with the rhinoceros, mammoth, and cave-bear, were not further advanced in material civilisation than the australians. they used weapons of bone, of unpolished stone, and probably of hard wood. but the remnants of their art, the scraps of mammoth or reindeer bone in our museums, prove that they had a most spirited style of sketching from the life. in a collection of drawings on bone (probably designed with a flint or a shell), drawings by palaeolithic man, in the british museum, i have only observed one purely decorative attempt. even in this the decoration resembles an effort to use the outlines of foliage for ornamental purposes. in almost all the other cases the palaeolithic artist has not decorated his bits of bone in the usual savage manner, but has treated his bone as an artist treats his sketch-book, and has scratched outlines of beasts and fishes with his sharp shell as an artist uses his point. these ancient bones, in short, are the sketch-books of european savages, whose untaught skill was far greater than that of the australians, or even of the eskimo. when brought into contact with europeans, the australian and eskimo very quickly, even without regular teaching, learn to draw with some spirit and skill. in the australian stele, or grave-pillar, which we have engraved (fig. ), the shapeless figures below the men and animals are the dead, and the boilyas or ghosts. observe the patterns in the interstices. the artist had lived with europeans. in their original conditions, however, the australians have not attained to such free, artist-like, and unhampered use of their rude materials as the mysterious european artists who drew the mammoth that walked abroad amongst them. [fig. . an australian stele: .jpg] we have engraved one solitary australian attempt at drawing curved lines. the new zealanders, a race far more highly endowed, and, when europeans arrived amongst them, already far more civilised than the australians, had, like the australians, no metal implements. but their stone weapons were harder and keener, and with these they engraved the various spirals and coils on hard wood, of which we give examples here. it is sometimes said that new zealand culture and art have filtered from some asiatic source, and that in the coils and spirals designed, as in our engravings, on the face of the maori chief, or on his wooden furniture, there may be found debased asiatic influences. { } this is one of the questions which we can hardly deal with here. perhaps its solution requires more of knowledge, anthropological and linguistic, than is at present within the reach of any student. assuredly the races of the earth have wandered far, and have been wonderfully intermixed, and have left the traces of their passage here and there on sculptured stones, and in the keeping of the ghosts that haunt ancient grave-steads. but when two pieces of artistic work, one civilised, one savage, resemble each other, it is always dangerous to suppose that the resemblance bears witness to relationship or contact between the races, or to influences imported by one from the other. new zealand work may be asiatic in origin, and debased by the effect of centuries of lower civilisation and ruder implements. or asiatic ornament may be a form of art improved out of ruder forms, like those to which the new zealanders have already attained. one is sometimes almost tempted to regard the favourite maori spiral as an imitation of the form, not unlike that of a bishop's crozier at the top, taken by the great native ferns. examples of resemblance, to be accounted for by the development of a crude early idea, may be traced most easily in the early pottery of greece. no one says that the greeks borrowed from the civilised people of america. only a few enthusiasts say that the civilised peoples of america, especially the peruvians, are aryan by race. yet the remains of peruvian palaces are often by no means dissimilar in style from the 'pelasgic' and 'cyclopean' buildings of gigantic stones which remain on such ancient hellenic sites as argos and mycenae. the probability is that men living in similar social conditions, and using similar implements, have unconsciously and unintentionally arrived at like results. [fig . a, a maori design; b, tattoo on a maori's face: .jpg] few people who are interested in the question can afford to visit peru and mycenae and study the architecture for themselves. but anyone who is interested in the strange identity of the human mind everywhere, and in the necessary forms of early art, can go to the british museum and examine the american and early greek pottery. compare the greek key pattern and the wave pattern on greek and mexican vases, and compare the bird-faces, or human faces very like those of birds, with the similar faces on the clay pots which dr. schliemann dug up at troy. the latter are engraved in his book on troy. compare the so-called 'cuttle-fish' from a peruvian jar with the same figure on the early greek vases, most of which are to be found in the last of the classical vase-rooms upstairs. once more, compare the little clay 'whorls' of the mexican and peruvian room with those which dr. schliemann found so numerous at hissarlik. the conviction becomes irresistible that all these objects, in shape, in purpose, in character of decoration, are the same, because the mind and the materials of men, in their early stages of civilisation especially, are the same everywhere. you might introduce old greek bits of clay-work, figures or vases, into a peruvian collection, or might foist mexican objects among the clay treasures of hissarlik, and the wisest archaeologist would be deceived. the greek fret pattern especially seems to be one of the earliest that men learnt to draw. the svastika, as it is called, the cross with lines at right angles to each limb, is found everywhere--in india, greece, scotland, peru--as a natural bit of ornament. the allegorising fancy of the indians gave it a mystic meaning, and the learned have built i know not what worlds of religious theories on this 'pre-christian cross,' which is probably a piece of hasty decorative work, with no original mystic meaning at all. { } ornaments of this sort were transferred from wood or bone to clay, almost as soon as people learned that early art, the potter's, to which the australians have not attained, though it was familiar to the not distant people of new caledonia. the style of spirals and curves, again, once acquired (as it was by the new zealanders), became the favourite of some races, especially of the celtic. any one who will study either the ornaments of mycenae, or those of any old scotch or irish collection, will readily recognise in that art the development of a system of ornament like that of the maoris. classical greece, on the other hand, followed more in the track of the ancient system of straight and slanted lines, and we do not find in the later greek art that love of interlacing coils and spirals which is so remarkable among the celts, and which is very manifest in the ornaments of the mycaenean hoards--that is, perhaps, of the ancient greek heroic age. the causes of these differences in the development of ornament, the causes that made celtic genius follow one track, and pursue to its aesthetic limits one early motif, while classical art went on a severer line, it is, perhaps, impossible at present to ascertain. but it is plain enough that later art has done little more than develop ideas of ornament already familiar to untutored races. [fig. . from a maori's face: .jpg] it has been shown that the art which aims at decoration is better adapted to both the purposes and materials of savages than the art which aims at representation. as a rule, the materials of the lower savages are their own bodies (which they naturally desire to make beautiful for ever by tattooing), and the hard substances of which they fashion their tools and weapons. these hard substances, when worked on with cutting instruments of stone or shell, are most easily adorned with straight cut lines, and spirals are therefore found to be, on the whole, a comparatively late form of ornament. [fig. . bushman dog: .jpg] we have now to discuss the efforts of the savage to represent. here, again, we have to consider the purpose which animates him, and the materials which are at his service. his pictures have a practical purpose, and do not spring from what we are apt, perhaps too hastily, to consider the innate love of imitation for its own sake. in modern art, in modern times, no doubt the desire to imitate nature, by painting or sculpture, has become almost an innate impulse, an in-born instinct. but there must be some 'reason why' for this; and it does not seem at all unlikely that we inherit the love, the disinterested love, of imitative art from very remote ancestors, whose habits of imitation had a direct, interested, and practical purpose. the member of parliament who mimics the crowing of a cock during debate, or the street boy who beguiles his leisure by barking like a dog, has a disinterested pleasure in the exercise of his skill; but advanced thinkers seem pretty well agreed that the first men who imitated the voices of dogs, and cocks, and other animals, did not do so merely for fun, but with the practical purpose of indicating to their companions the approach of these creatures. such were the rude beginnings of human language: and whether that theory be correct or not, there are certainly practical reasons which impel the savage to attempt imitative art. i doubt if there are many savage races which do not use representative art for the purposes of writing--that is, to communicate information to persons whom they cannot reach by the voice, and to assist the memory, which, in a savage, is perhaps not very strong. to take examples. a savage man meets a savage maid. she does not speak his language, nor he hers. how are they to know whether, according to the marriage laws of their race, they are lawful mates for each other? this important question is settled by an inspection of their tattooed marks. if a thlinkeet man of the swan stock meets an iroquois maid of the swan stock they cannot speak to each other, and the 'gesture language' is cumbrous. but if both are tattooed with the swan, then the man knows that this daughter of the swan is not for him. he could no more marry her than helen of troy could have married castor, the tamer of horses. both are children of the swan, as were helen and castor, and must regard each other as brother and sister. the case of the thlinkeet man and the iroquois maid is extremely unlikely to occur; but i give it as an example of the practical use among savages, of representative art. [fig. . red indian picture-writing - the legend of manabozho: .jpg] among the uses of art for conveying intelligence we notice that even the australians have what the greeks would have called the [greek], a staff on which inscriptions, legible to the aborigines, are engraven. i believe, however, that the australian [greek] is not usually marked with picture-writing, but with notches--even more difficult to decipher. as an example of red indian picture-writing we publish a scroll from kohl's book on the natives of north america. this rude work of art, though the reader may think little of it, is really a document as important in its way as the chaldaean clay tablets inscribed with the record of the deluge. the coarsely-drawn figures recall, to the artist's mind, much of the myth of manabozho, the prometheus and the deucalion, the cain and the noah of the dwellers by the great lake. manabozho was a great chief, who had two wives that quarrelled. the two stumpy half-figures ( ) represent the wives; the mound between them is the displeasure of manabozho. further on ( ) you see him caught up between two trees--an unpleasant fix, from which the wolves and squirrels refused to extricate him. the kind of pyramid with a figure at top ( ) is a mountain, on which when the flood came, manabozho placed his grandmother to be out of the water's way. the somewhat similar object is manabozho himself, on the top of his mountain. the animals you next behold ( ) were sent out by manabozho to ascertain how the deluge was faring, and to carry messages to his grandmother. this scroll was drawn, probably on birch bark, by a red man of literary attainments, who gave it to kohl (in its lower right-hand corner ( ) he has pictured the event), that he might never forget the story of the manabozhian deluge. the red indians have always, as far as european knowledge goes, been in the habit of using this picture-writing for the purpose of retaining their legends, poems, and incantations. it is unnecessary to say that the picture-writing of mexico and the hieroglyphics of ancient egypt are derived from the same savage processes. i must observe that the hasty indications of the figure used in picture-writing are by no means to be regarded as measures of the red men's skill in art. they can draw much better than the artist who recorded the manabozhian legend, when they please. in addition to picture-writing, religion has fostered savage representative art. if a man worships a lizard or a bear, he finds it convenient to have an amulet or idol representing a bear or a lizard. if one adores a lizard or a bear, one is likely to think that prayer and acts of worship addressed to an image of the animal will please the animal himself, and make him propitious. thus the art of making little portable figures of various worshipful beings is fostered, and the craft of working in wood or ivory is born. as a rule, the savage is satisfied with excessively rude representations of his gods. objects of this kind--rude hewn blocks of stone and wood--were the most sacred effigies of the gods in greece, and were kept in the dimmest recesses of the temple. no demeter wrought by the craft of phidias would have appeared so holy to the phigalians as the strange old figure of the goddess with the head of a mare. the earliest greek sacred sculptures that remain are scarcely, if at all, more advanced in art than the idols of the naked admiralty islanders. but this is anticipating; in the meantime it may be said that among the sources of savage representative art are the need of something like writing, and ideas suggested by nascent religion. [fig. . bushman wall-painting: .jpg] the singular wall-picture (fig. ) from a cave in south africa, which we copy from the 'cape monthly magazine,' probably represents a magical ceremony. bushmen are tempting a great water animal--a rhinoceros, or something of that sort--to run across the land, for the purpose of producing rain. the connection of ideas is scarcely apparent to civilised minds, but it is not more indistinct than the connection between carrying a bit of the rope with which a man has been hanged and success at cards--a common french superstition. the bushman cave-pictures, like those of australia, are painted in black, red, and white. savages, like the assyrians and the early greeks, and like children, draw animals much better than the human figure. the bushman dog in our little engraving (fig. ) is all alive--almost as full of life as the dog which accompanies the centaur chiron, in that beautiful vase in the british museum which represents the fostering of achilles. the bushman wall-paintings, like those of australia, seem to prove that savage art is capable of considerable freedom, when supplied with fitting materials. men seem to draw better when they have pigments and a flat surface of rock to work upon, than when they are scratching on hard wood with a sharp edge of a broken shell. though the thing has little to do with art, it may be worth mentioning, as a matter of curiosity, that the labyrinthine australian caves are decorated, here and there, with the mark of a red hand. the same mysterious, or at least unexplained, red hand is impressed on the walls of the ruined palaces and temples of yucatan--the work of a vanished people. [fig. . palaelithic art: .jpg] there is one singular fact in the history of savage art which reminds us that savages, like civilised men, have various degrees of culture and various artistic capacities. the oldest inhabitants of europe who have left any traces of their lives and handiwork must have been savages. their tools and weapons were not even formed of polished stone, but of rough-hewn flint. the people who used tools of this sort must necessarily have enjoyed but a scanty mechanical equipment, and the life they lived in caves from which they had to drive the cave-bear, and among snows where they stalked the reindeer and the mammoth, must have been very rough. these earliest known europeans, 'palaeolithic men,' as they called, from their use of the ancient unpolished stone weapons, appear to have inhabited the countries now known as france and england, before the great age of ice. this makes their date one of incalculable antiquity; they are removed from us by a 'dark backward and abysm of time.' the whole age of ice, the dateless period of the polishers of stone weapons, the arrival of men using weapons of bronze, the time which sufficed to change the climate and fauna and flora of western europe, lie between us and palaeolithic man. yet in him we must recognise a skill more akin to the spirit of modern art than is found in any other savage race. palaeolithic man, like other savages, decorated his weapons; but, as i have already said, he did not usually decorate them in the common savage manner with ornamental patterns. he scratched on bits of bone spirited representations of all the animals whose remains are found mixed with his own. he designed the large-headed horse of that period, and science inclines to believe that he drew the breed correctly. his sketches of the mammoth, the reindeer, the bear, and of many fishes, may be seen in the british museum, or engraved in such works as professor boyd dawkins's 'early man in britain.' the object from which our next illustration (fig. ) was engraved represents a deer, and was a knife-handle. eyes at all trained in art can readily observe the wonderful spirit and freedom of these ancient sketches. they are the rapid characteristic work of true artists who know instinctively what to select and what to sacrifice. [fig . palaeolithic art - a knife-handle: .jpg] some learned men, mr. boyd dawkins among them, believe that the eskimo, that stunted hunting and fishing race of the western arctic circle, are descendants of the palaeolithic sketchers, and retain their artistic qualities. other inquirers, with mr. geikie and dr. wilson, do not believe in this pedigree of the eskimo. i speak not with authority, but the submission of ignorance, and as one who has no right to an opinion about these deep matters of geology and ethnology. but to me, mr. geikie's arguments appear distinctly the more convincing, and i cannot think it demonstrated that the eskimo are descended from our old palaeolithic artists. but if mr. boyd dawkins is right, if the eskimo derive their lineage from the artists of the dordogne, then the eskimo are sadly degenerated. in mr. dawkins's 'early man' is an eskimo drawing of a reindeer hunt, and a palaeolithic sketch of a reindeer; these (by permission of the author and messrs. macmillan) we reproduce. look at the vigour and life of the ancient drawing--the feathering hair on the deer's breast, his head, his horns, the very grasses at his feet, are touched with the graver of a true artist (fig. ). the design is like a hasty memorandum of leech's. then compare the stiff formality of the modern eskimo drawing (fig. ). it is rather like a record, a piece of picture-writing, than a free sketch, a rapid representation of what is most characteristic in nature. clearly, if the eskimo come from palaeolithic man, they are a degenerate race as far as art is concerned. yet, as may be seen in dr. rink's books, the eskimo show considerable skill when they have become acquainted with european methods and models, and they have at any rate a greater natural gift for design than the red indians, of whose sacred art the thunderbird brooding over page is a fair example. the red men believe in big birds which produce thunder. quahteaht, the adam of vancouver's island, married one, and this (fig. ) is she. [fig. . red indian art - the thunderbird: .jpg] [fig. . eskimo drawing - a reindeer hunt: .jpg] [fig. . palaeolithic sketch - a reindeer: .jpg] we have tried to show how savage decorative art supplied the first ideas of patterns which were developed in various ways by the decorative art of advancing civilisation. the same progress might be detected in representative art. books, like the guide-book to ancient greece which pausanias wrote before the glory had quite departed, prove that the greek temples were museums in which the development of art might be clearly traced. furthest back in the series of images of gods came things like that large stone which was given to cronus when he wished to swallow his infant child zeus, and which he afterwards vomited up with his living progeny. this fetich-stone was preserved at delphi. next came wild bulks of beast-headed gods, like the horse-headed demeter of phigalia, and it seems possible enough that there was an artemis with the head of a she-bear. gradually the bestial characteristics dropped, and there appeared such rude anthropomorphic images of apollo--more like south sea idols than the archer prince--as are now preserved in athens. next we have the stage of semi-savage realism, which is represented by the metopes of selinus in sicily, now in the british museum, and by not a few gems and pieces of gold work. greek temples have fallen, and the statues of the gods exist only in scattered fragments. but in the representative collection of casts belonging to the cambridge archaeological museum, one may trace the career of greek art backwards from phidias to the rude idol. 'savage realism' is the result of a desire to represent an object as it is known to be, and not as it appears. thus catlin, among the red indians, found that the people refused to be drawn in profile. they knew they had two eyes, and in profile they seemed only to have one. look at the selinus marbles, and you will observe that figures, of which the body is seen in profile, have the full face turned to the spectator. again, the savage knows that an animal has two sides; both, he thinks, should be represented, but he cannot foreshorten, and he finds the profile view easiest to draw. to satisfy his need of realism he draws a beast's head full-face, and gives to the one head two bodies drawn in profile. examples of this are frequent in very archaic greek gems and gold work, and mr. a. s. murray suggests (as i understand him) that the attitude of the two famous lions, which guarded vainly agamemnon's gate at mycenae, is derived from the archaic double-bodied and single-headed beast of savage realism. very good examples of these oddities may be found in the 'journal of the hellenic society,' , pl. xv. here are double-bodied and single headed birds, monsters, and sphinxes. we engrave (fig. ) three greek gems from the islands as examples of savagery in early greek art. in the oblong gem the archers are rather below the red indian standard of design. the hunter figured in the first gem is almost up to the bushman mark. in his dress ethnologists will recognise an arrangement now common among the natives of new caledonia. in the third gem the woman between two swans may be leda, or she may represent leto in delos. observe the amazing rudeness of the design, and note the modern waist and crinoline. the artists who engraved these gems on hard stone had, of necessity, much better tools than any savages possess, but their art was truly savage. to discover how greek art climbed in a couple of centuries from this coarse and childish work to the grace of the aegina marbles, and thence to the absolute freedom and perfect unapproachable beauty of the work of phidias, is one of the most singular problems in the history of art. greece learned something, no doubt, from her early knowledge of the arts the priests of assyria and egypt had elaborated in the valleys of the euphrates and the nile. that might account for a swift progress from savage to formal and hieratic art; but whence sprang the inspiration which led her so swiftly on to art that is perfectly free, natural, and god-like? it is a mystery of race, and of a divine gift. 'the heavenly gods have given it to mortals.' [fig. . archaic greek gems: .jpg] footnotes: { a} compare de cara: essame critico, xx. i. { b} revue de l'hist. des rel. ii. . { } sprachvergleichung und urgeschichte, p. . { } prim. cult. i. . { a} a study of the contemporary stone age in scotland will be found in mitchell's past and present. { b} about twenty years ago, the widow of an irish farmer, in derry, killed her deceased husband's horse. when remonstrated with by her landlord, she said, 'would you have my man go about on foot in the next world?' she was quite in the savage intellectual stage. { } at the solemn festival suppers, ordained for the honour of the gods, they forget not to serve up certain dishes of young whelp's flesh. (pliny, h. n. xxix. .) { } nov. . { } 'ah, once again may i plant the great fan on her corn-heap, while she stands smiling by, demeter of the threshing floor, with sheaves and poppies in her hands' (theocritus, vii. - ). { } odyssey, xi. . { } rev. de l'hist. des rel., vol. ii. { } pausanias, iii. . when the boys were being cruelly scourged, the priestess of artemis orthia held an ancient barbaric wooden image of the goddess in her hands. if the boys were spared, the image grew heavy; the more they were tortured, the lighter grew the image. in samoa the image (shark's teeth) of the god taema is consulted before battle. 'if it felt heavy, that was a bad omen; if light, the sign was good'--the god was pleased (turner's samoa, p. ). [bull-roarer: .jpg] { } kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . { } fison, journal anthrop. soc., nov. . { a} taylor's new zealand, p. . { b} this is not the view of le pere lafitau, a learned jesuit missionary in north america, who wrote ( ) a work on savage manners, compared with the manners of heathen antiquity. lafitau, who was greatly struck with the resemblances between greek and iroquois or carib initiations, takes servius's other explanation of the mystica vannus, 'an osier vessel containing rural offerings of first fruits.' this exactly answers, says lafitau, to the carib matoutou, on which they offer sacred cassava cakes. { } the century magazine, may . { } [greek]. lobeck, aglaophamus (i. p. ). { a} de corona, p. . { b} savage africa. captain smith, the lover of pocahontas, mentions the custom in his work on virginia, pp. - . { c} brough smyth, i. , using evidence of howitt, taplin, thomas, and wilhelmi. { a} kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . { b} [greek], c. . { } cape monthly magazine, july . { } wallace, travels on the amazon, p. . { a} new zealand, taylor, pp. - . die heilige sage der polynesier, bastian, pp. - . { b} a crowd of similar myths, in one of which a serpent severs heaven and earth, are printed in turner's samoa. { } the translation used is jowett's. { a} theog., . { b} apollodorus, i. . { a} primitive culture, i. . { b} pauthier, livres sacres de l'orient, p. . { c} muir's sanskrit texts, v. . aitareya brahmana. { a} hesiod, theog., . { b} paus. x. . { a} bleek, bushman folklore, pp. - . { b} theal, kaffir folklore, pp. - . { c} brough smith, i. - . { a} i. . { b} rel. de la nouvelle-france ( ), p. . { } codrington, in journal anthrop. inst. feb. . there is a breton marchen of a land where people had to 'bring the dawn' daily with carts and horses. a boy, whose sole property was a cock, sold it to the people of this country for a large sum, and now the cock brings the dawn, with a great saving of trouble and expense. the marchen is a survival of the state of mind of the solomon islanders. { a} selected essays, i. . { b} ibid. i. . { } ueber entwicklungsstufen der mythenbildung ( ), p. . { a} ii. . { b} g. d. m., ii. , . { a} gr. my., i. . { b} de abst., ii. , . { c} rel. und myth., ii. . { d} ursprung der myth., pp. , , , . { a} contemporary review, sept. . { b} rev. de l'hist. rel. i. . { } that pururavas is regarded as a mortal man, in relations with some sort of spiritual mistress, appears from the poem itself (v. , , ). the human character of pururavas also appears in r. v. i. , . { a} selected essays, i. . { b} the apsaras is an ideally beautiful fairy woman, something 'between the high gods and the lower grotesque beings,' with 'lotus eyes' and other agreeable characteristics. a list of apsaras known by name is given in meyer's gandharven-kentauren, p. . they are often regarded as cloud-maidens by mythologists. { } selected essays, i. p. . { a} cf. ruber, rufus, o. h. g. rot, rudhira, [greek]; also sanskrit, ravi, sun. { b} myth. ar. nat., ii. . { c} r. v. iii. , . { d} the passage alluded to in homer does not mean that dawn 'ends' the day, but 'when the fair-tressed dawn brought the full light of the third day' (od., v. ). { a} liebrecht (zur volkskunde, ) is reminded by pururavas (in roth's sense of der bruller) of loud-thundering zeus, [greek]. { b} herabkunft des fetters, p. - . { } liebrecht (zur volkskunde, p. ) notices the reference to the 'custom of women.' but he thinks the clause a mere makeshift, introduced late to account for a prohibition of which the real meaning had been forgotten. the improbability of this view is indicated by the frequency of similar prohibitions in actual custom. { } astley, collection of voyages, ii. . this is given by bluet and moore on the evidence of one job ben solomon, a native of bunda in futa. 'though job had a daughter by his last wife, yet he never saw her without her veil, as having been married to her only two years.' excellently as this prohibition suits my theory, yet i confess i do not like job's security. { a} brough smyth, i. . { b} bowen, central africa, p. . { c} lafitau, i. . { d} lubbock, origin of civilisation ( ), p. . { a} chansons pop. bulg., p. . { b} lectures on language, second series, p. . { a} j. a. farrer, primitive manners, p. , quoting seemann. { b} sebillot, contes pop. de la haute-bretagne, p. . { a} gervase of tilbury. { b} kuhn, herabkunft, p. . { } chips, ii. . { a} kitchi gami, p. . { b} the sun-frog occurs seven times in sir g. w: cox's mythology of the aryan peoples, and is used as an example to prove that animals in myth are usually the sun, like bheki, 'the sun-frog.' { a} dalton's ethnol. of bengal, pp. , . { b} taylor, new zealand, p. . { a} liebrecht gives a hindoo example, zur volkskunde, p. . { b} cymmrodor, iv. pt. . { c} prim. cult., i. . { a} primitive manners, p. . { b} see meyer, gandharven-kentauren, benfey, pantsch., i. . { a} selected essays, i. . { b} callaway, p. . { c} ibid., p. . { } primitive culture, i. : 'the savage sees individual stars as animate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial creatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them.' { } this formula occurs among bushmen and eskimo (bleek and rink). { } the events of the flight are recorded correctly in the gaelic variant 'the battle of the birds.' (campbell, tales of the west highlands, vol. i. p. .) { a} ralston, russian folk tales, ; kohler, orient und occident, ii. , . { b} ko ti ki, p. . { c} callaway, pp. , , , , . { d} see also 'petrosinella' in the pentamerone, and 'the mastermaid' in dasent's tales from the norse. { e} folk-lore journal, august . { } poetae minores gr. ii. { } mythol. ar., ii. . { a} gr. my., ii. . { b} sonne, mond und sterne, pp. , . { a} this proves that the tale belongs to the pre-christian cannibal age. { b} turner's samoa, p. . in this tale only the names of the daughters are translated; they mean 'white fish' and 'dark fish.' { c} folk-lore journal, august . { } schoolcraft, algic researches, ii. - . { a} nature, march , . { b} the earlier part of the jason cycle is analysed in the author's preface to grimm's marchen (bell & sons). { a} comm. real. i. . { b} see early history of the family, infra. { a} the names totem and totemism have been in use at least since , among writers on the north american tribes. prof. max muller (academy, jan. ) says the word should be, not totem, but ote or otem. long, an interpreter among the indians, introduced the word totamism in . { b} christoval de moluna ( ), p. . { c} cieza de leon, p. . { d} idyll xv. { } sayce, herodotos, p. ; herodotus, ii. ; wilkinson's ancient egyptians ( , ii. , note ); plutarch, de is. et os., , ; athenaeus, vii. ; strabo, xvii. . { a} the mouse, according to dalton, is still a totem among the oraons of bengal. a man of the mouse 'motherhood,' as the totem kindred is locally styled, may not eat mice (esteemed a delicacy), nor marry a girl who is a mouse. { b} xiii. . casaub. . { c} there were sminthiac feasts at rhodes, gela, lesbos, and crete (de witte, revue numismatique, n.s. iii. - ). { a} iliad, i. . { b} aelian, h. a. xii. . { a} the bas-relief is published in paoli's della religione de' gentili, naples, , p. ; also by fabretti, ad cal. oper. de colum. trajan. p. . paoli's book was written after the discovery in neapolitan territory of a small bronze image, hieratic in character, representing a man with a mouse on his hand. paoli's engraving of this work of art, unluckily, does not enable us to determine its date or _provenance_. the book is a mine of mouse-lore. { b} colden, history of the five nations, p. ( ). { c} onomast., ix. , segm. , p. . { d} de witte says pollux was mistaken here. in the revue numismatique, n.s. iii., de witte publishes coins of alexandria, the more ancient hamaxitus, in the troad. the sminthian apollo is represented with his bow, and the mouse on his hand. other coins show the god with the mouse at his foot, or show us the lyre of apollo supported by mice. a bronze coin in the british museum gives apollo with the mouse beside his foot. { a} spanheim, ad fl. joseph., vi. i, p. . { b} della rel., p. . { c} herodotus, ii. . { a} liebrecht (zur volkskunde, p. , quoting journal asiatique, st series, , ) finds the same myth in chinese annals. it is not a god, however, but the king of the rats, who appears to the distressed monarch in his dream. rats then gnaw the bowstrings of his enemies. the invaders were turks, the rescued prince a king of khotan. the king raised a temple, and offered sacrifice--to the rats? { b} herodotos, p. . { a} wilkinson, iii. , quoting the ritual xxxiii.: 'thou devourest the abominable rat of ra, or the sun.' { b} mr. loftie has kindly shown me a green mouse containing the throne-name of thothmes iii. the animals thus used as substitutes for scarabs were also sacred, as the fish, rhinoceros, fly, all represented in mr. loftie's collection. see his essay of scarabs, p. . it may be admitted that, in a country where cats were gods, the religion of the mouse must have been struggling and oppressed. [illustration: .jpg] { a} strabo, xiii. . { b} eustathius on iliad, i. . { c} a strange and true relation of the prodigious multitude of mice, . { a} journal of philol., xvii. p. . { b} leviticus xi. . { } samuel i. , . { a} zool. myth, ii. . { b} melusine, n.s. i. { a} de iside et osiride, lxxvi. { b} this hypothesis does not maintain that totemism prevailed in greece during historic times. though plutarch mentions an athenian [greek], the ioxidae, which claimed descent from and revered asparagus, it is probable that genuine totemism had died out of greece many hundreds of years before even homer's time. but this view is not inconsistent with the existence of survivals in religion and ritual. { } rolland, faune populaire. { } the attempt is not to explain the origin of each separate name but only of the general habit of giving animal or human names stars. { } mr. herbert spencer believes that the australians were once more civilised than at present. but there has never been found a trace of pottery on the australian continent, which says little for their civilisation in the past. { } brugsch, history of egypt, i. . { } brough smith. { } amazonian tortoise myths, p. . { a} sahagun, vii. . { b} grimm, d. m., engl. transl., p. . { } hartt, op. cit., p. . { a} kaegi, der rig veda, p. . { b} mainjo-i-khard, , , ed. west. { c} op. cit. p. . { } prim. cult., i. . { } lectures on language, pp. , . { } grimm, d. m., engl., trans. p. . { } tom sawyer, p. . { a} rep. vi. . dem. , . { b} journal anthrop. inst., feb. . { a} gregor, folklore of north-east counties, p, . { b} wars of jews, vii. , . { c} var. hist., , . { } max muller, selected essays, ii. . { } myth of kirke, p. . { a} turner's samoa. { b} josephus, loc. cit. for this, and many other references, i am indebted to schwartz's prahistorisch-anthropologische studien. in most magic herbs the learned author recognises thunder and lightning--a theory no less plausible than mr. brown's. { c} lib. xxviii. { d} schoolcraft. { a} talvj, charakteristik der volkslieder, p. . { b} fauriel, chants de la grece moderne. { } thus scotland scarcely produced any ballads, properly speaking, after the reformation. the kirk suppressed the dances to whose motion the ballad was sung in scotland, as in greece, provence, and france. { } l. preller's ausgewahlte aufsatze. greek ideas on the origin of man. it is curious that the myth of a gold, a silver, and a copper race occurs in south america. see brasseur de bourbourg's notes on the popol vuh. { a} see essay on early history of the family. { b} this constant struggle may be, and of course by one school of comparative mythologists will be, represented as the strife between light and darkness, the sun's rays, and the clouds of night, and so on. m. castren has well pointed out that the struggle has really an historical meaning. even if the myth be an elementary one, its constructors must have been in the exogamous stage of society. { } sampo _may_ be derived from a thibetan word, meaning 'fountain of good,' or it may possibly be connected with the swedish stamp, a hand- mill. the talisman is made of all the quaint odds and ends that the fetichist treasures: swan's feathers, flocks of wool, and so on. { } sir g. w. cox's popular romances of the middle ages, p. . { } fortnightly review, : 'the worship of plants and animals.' { } mr. mclennan in the fortnightly review, february . { } m. schmidt, volksleben der neugriechen, finds comparatively few traces of the worship of zeus, and these mainly in proverbial expressions. { } preller, ausgewahlte aufsatze, p. . { a} tylor, prim. cult., ii. . pinkerton, vii. . { b} universities mission to central africa, p. . prim. cult,, ii. , . { } quoted in 'jacob's rod': london, n.d., a translation of la verge de jacob, lyon, . { } lettres sur la baguette, pp. - . { } turner's samoa, pp, , . { } cox, mythol. of aryan races, passim. { a} see examples in 'a far-travelled tale,' 'cupid and psyche,' and 'the myth of cronus.' { b} trubner, . { a} hahn, p. . { b} ibid., p. . { } expedition, i. . { } herodotus, ii. { } see fetichism and the infinite. { } sacred books of the east, xii. , , { } lectures on language. second series, p. . { } a defence of the evidence for our knowledge of savage faiths, practices, and ideas will be found in primitive culture, i. - . { } a third reference to pausanias i have been unable to verify. there are several references to greek fetich-stones in theophrastus's account of the superstitious man. a number of greek sacred stones named by pausanias may be worth noticing. in boeotia (ix. ), the people believed that alcmene, mother of heracles, was changed into a stone. the thespians worshipped, under the name of eros, an unwrought stone, [greek], 'their most ancient sacred object' (ix. ). the people of orchomenos 'paid extreme regard to certain stones,' said to have fallen from heaven, 'or to certain figures made of stone that descended from the sky' (ix. ). near chaeronea, rhea was said to have deceived cronus, by offering him, in place of zeus, a stone wrapped in swaddling bands. this stone, which cronus vomited forth after having swallowed it, was seen by pausanias at delphi (ix. ). by the roadside, near the city of the panopeans, lay the stones out of which prometheus made men (x. ). the stone swallowed in place of zeus by his father lay at the exit from the delphian temple, and was anointed (compare the action of jacob, gen. xxviii. ) with oil every day. the phocians worshipped thirty squared stones, each named after a god (vii. xxii.). '_among all the greeks rude stones were worshipped before the images of the gods_.' among the troezenians a sacred stone lay in front of the temple, whereon the troezenian elders sat, and purified orestes from the murder of his mother. in attica there was a conical stone worshipped as apollo (i. xliv.). near argos was a stone called zeus cappotas, on which orestes was said to have sat down, and so recovered peace of mind. such are examples of the sacred stones, the oldest worshipful objects, of greece. { } see essays on 'apollo and the mouse' and 'the early history of the family.' { } here i may mention a case illustrating the motives of the fetich- worshipper. my friend, mr. j. j. atkinson, who has for many years studied the manners of the people of new caledonia, asked a native _why_ he treasured a certain fetich-stone. the man replied that, in one of the vigils which are practised beside the corpses of deceased friends, he saw a lizard. the lizard is a totem, a worshipful animal in new caledonia. the native put out his hand to touch it, when it disappeared and left a stone in its place. this stone he therefore held sacred in the highest degree. here then a fetich-stone was indicated as such by a spirit in form of a lizard. { a} much the same theory is propounded in mr. muller's lectures on 'the science of religion.' { b} the idea is expressed in a well known parody of wordsworth, about the tree which 'will grow ten times as tall as me and live ten times as long.' { } see essay on 'the early history of the family.' { } bergaigne's la religion vedique may be consulted for vedic fetichism. { a} early law and custom. { b} studies in ancient history, p. . { } descent of man, ii. . { } early law and custom, p. . { a} here i would like to point out that mr. m'lennan's theory was not so hard and fast as his manner (that of a very assured believer in his own ideas) may lead some inquirers to suppose. sir henry maine writes, that both mr. morgan and mr. m'lennan 'seem to me to think that human society went everywhere through the same series of changes, and mr. m'lennan, at any rate, expresses himself as if all those stages could be clearly discriminated from one another, and the close of one and the commencement of another announced with the distinctness of the clock-bell telling the end of the hour.' on the other hand, i remember mr. m'lennan's saying that, in his opinion, 'all manner of arrangements probably went on simultaneously in different places.' in studies in ancient history, p. , he expressly guards against the tendency 'to assume that the progress of the various races of men from savagery has been a uniform progress: that all the stages which any of them has gone through have been passed in their order by all.' still more to the point is his remark on polyandry among the very early greeks and other aryans; 'it is quite consistent with my view that in all these quarters (persia, sparta, troy, lycia, attica, crete, &c.) monandry, and even the patria potestas, may have prevailed at points.' { b} early law and custom, p. . { } studies in ancient history, pp. - . { } totem is the word generally given by travellers and interpreters for the family crests of the red indians. cf. p. . { } domestic manners of the chinese, i. . { } fortnightly review, june , . { } kamilaroi and kurnai. natives call these objects their kin, 'of one flesh' with them. { } studies, p. . { a} o'curry, manners of ancient irish, l. ccclxx., quoting trin. coll. dublin ms. { b} see also elton's origins of english history, pp. - . { c} kemble's saxons in england, p. . politics of aristotle, bolland and lang, p. . { d} { d} mr. grant allen kindly supplied me some time ago with a list of animal and vegetable names preserved in the titles of ancient english village settlements. among them are: ash, birch, bear (as among the iroquois), oak, buck, fir, fern, sun, wolf, thorn, goat, horse, salmon (the trout is a totem in america), swan (familiar in australia), and others. { } 'gentiles sunt qui inter se eodem nomine sunt. qui ab ingeniis oriundi sunt. quorum majorum nemo servitutem servivit. qui capite non sunt deminuti.' { } studies in ancient history, p. . { } fortnightly review, october : 'archaeologia americana,' ii. . { a} suidas, . { b} herod., i. . { c} cf. bachofen, p. . { d} compare the irish nennius, p. . { } the illustrations in this article are for the most part copied, by permission of messrs. cassell & co., from the magazine of art, in which the essay appeared. { } part of the pattern (fig. , b) recurs on the new zealand bull- roarer, engraved in the essay on the bull-roarer. [bull-roarer: .jpg] { } see schliemann's troja, wherein is much learning and fancy about the aryan svastika. none bulfinch's mythology the age of fable revised by rev. e. e. hale contents chapter i origin of greeks and romans. the aryan family. the divinities of these nations. character of the romans. greek notion of the world. dawn, sun, and moon. jupiter and the gods of olympus. foreign gods. latin names.-- saturn or kronos. titans. juno, vulcan, mars, phoebus-apollo, venus, cupid, minerva, mercury, ceres, bacchus. the muses. the graces. the fates. the furies. pan. the satyrs. momus. plutus. roman gods. chapter ii roman idea of creation. golden age. milky way. parnassus. the deluge. deucalion and pyrrha. pandora. prometheus. apollo and daphne. pyramus and thisbe. davy's safety lamp. cephalus and procris chapter iii juno. syrinx, or pandean pipes. argus's eyes. io. callisto constellations of great and little bear. pole-star. diana. actaeon. latona. rustics turned to frogs. isle of delos. phaeton. palace of the sun. phoebus. day. month. year. hours. seasons. chariot of the sun. people of aethiopia. libyan desert. the wells dry. the sea shrinks. phaeton's tomb. the heliades chapter iv silenus. midas. bacchus's reward to midas. river pactolus. pan challenges apollo. midas's ears. gordian knot. baucis and philemon. aetna. perpetual spring. pluto carries off prosperine. cere's search. prosperine's release. eleusinian mysteries. glaucis changed to a fish. scylla chapter v pygmalion's statue. dryope and iole. lotus tree. venus and adonis. anemone or wind flower. apollo and hyacinthus. game of quoits. flower hyacinthus. ceyx and halcyone. palace of the king of sleep. morpheus. halcyon birds. chapter vi hamadryads. pomona. vertumnus. iphis. cupid and psyche. zephyr. temple of ceres. temple of venus. the ant. golden fleece. pluto. cerberus. charon. the treasure. stygian sleep. cup of ambrosia. birth of pleasure. greek name of psyche. chapter vii cadmus. origin of city of thebes. tyrians. serpent. dragon's teeth. harmonia. serpent sacred to mars. myrmidons. cephalus. aeacus. pestilence sent by june. origin of myrmidons. chapter viii minos, king of crete. nisus, his purple hair. scylla's betrayal. her punishment. echo. juno's sentence. narcissus. love for his own image. clytie. hopeless love for apollo. becomes a flower. hero and leander. hellespont chapter ix goddess of wisdom. arachne. her challenge with minerva. minerva's web. arachne's web. transformation. niobe queen of thebes. mount cynthus. death of niobe's children. changed to stone. the gray-haired sisters. the gorgon medusa. tower of brass. danae. perseus. net of dicte. minerva. king atlas. andromeda. sea monster. wedding feast. enemies turned to stone. chapter x attributes of monsters. laius. oedipus. the oracle. sphinx. the riddle. oedipus made king. jocasta. origin of pegasus. fountain of hippocrene. the chimaera. bellerophontic letters. the centaurs. the pygmies. description of the griffin. the native country. one-eyed people chapter xi the ram with the golden fleece. the hellespont. jason's quest. sowing the dragon's teeth. jason's father. incantations of medea. ancient name of greece. great gatherings of the greeks. wild boar. atalanta's race. three golden apples. lovers' ingratitude. venus's revenge. corybantes chapter xii labors of hercules.-- fight with nemean lion.-- slaughter of the hydra. cleaning the augean stables.-- girdle of the queen of the amazons.-- oxen of geryon.-- golden apples of hesperides.-- victory over antaeus.-- cacus slain.-- hercules, descent into hades.-- he becomes the slave of omphale.-- dejanira's charm.-- death of hercules.-- hebe, goddess of youth chapter xiii theseus moves the fated stone, and proceeds to athens.-- procrustes's bedstead.-- tribute to minos.-- ariadne.-- clew of thread.-- encounter with the minotaur.-- theseus becomes king of athens.-- friendship of theseus and pirithous. the theseum.-- festival of panathenaea.-- elgin marbles.-- national greek games.-- the labyrinth.-- daedalus' wings.-- invention of the saw.-- castor and pollux.-- argonautic expedition.-- orpheus's harp.-- gemini chapter xiv destruction of semele.-- infancy of bacchus.-- march of bacchus.- - one of the bacchanals taken prisoner.-- pentheus.-- worship of bacchus established in greece.-- ariadne.-- bacchus's marriage.-- ariadne's crown chapter xv pan.-- shepherd's pipe.-- panic terror.-- signification of the name pan.-- latin divinities.-- wood nymphs.-- water nymphs.-- sea nymphs. pleasing traits of old paganism.-- mrs. browning's poem.-- violation of cere's grove.-- erisichthon's punishment.-- rhoecus.-- water deities.-- neptune's symbol of power.-- latin name for the muses, and other deities.-- personification of the winds. the harpies.-- worship of fortuna chapter xvi transformation of achelous.-- origin of the cornucopia.-- ancient meaning of fight of achelous with hercules.-- aesculapius.-- the cyclops. antigone.-- expedition of the "seven against thebes."- - antigone's sisterly devotion.-- antigone's burial.-- penelope.- - statue to modesty.-- ulysses.-- penelope's suitors.-- penelope's web chapter xvii orpheus's lyre.-- unhappy prognostics at orpheus's marriage.-- eurydice's death.-- orpheus descends to the stygian realm.-- orpheus loses eurydice forever.-- thracian maidens.-- honey.-- aristaeus's loss and complaint.-- cyrene's apartments.-- proteus captured.-- his directions to orpheus.-- swarm of bees.-- celebrated mythical poets and musicians.-- first mortal endowed with prophetic powers chapter xviii adventures of real persons.-- arion, famous musician.-- description of ancient theatres.-- murder of ibycus.-- chorus personating the furies.-- cranes of ibycus.-- the murderers seized.-- simonides.-- scopa's jest. simonides's escape.-- sappho.-- "lover's leap" chapter xix endymion.-- mount latmos. gift of perpetual youth and perpetual sleep.-- orion.-- kedalion.-- orion's girdle.-- the fatal shot the pleiads.-- aurora.-- memnon.-- statue of memnon.-- scylla.-- acis and galatea.-- river acis chapter xx minerva's competition.-- paris's decision.-- helen.-- paris's elopement.-- ulysses's pretence.-- the apple of discord.-- priam, king of troy.-- commander of grecian armament.-- principal leaders of the trojans.-- agamemnon kills the sacred stag.-- iphigenia.-- the trojan war.-- the iliad.-- interest of dods and goddesses in the war.-- achilles's suit of armor.-- death of hector.-- ransom sent to achilles.-- achilles grants priam's request.-- hector's funeral solemnities. chapter xxi achilles captivated by polyxena.-- achilles' claim.-- bestowal of achilles' armor.-- the hyacinth.-- arrows of hercules.-- death of paris.-- celebrated statue of minerva.-- wooden horse.-- greeks pretend to abandon the siege.-- sea serpents.-- laocoon.-- troy subdued.-- helen and menelaus.-- nepenthe.-- agamemnon's misfortunes.-- orestes.-- electra.-- site of the city of troy chapter xxii the odyssey.-- the wanderings of ulysses.-- country of the cyclops.-- the island of aeolus.-- the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians.-- circe.-- the sirens.-- scylla and charybdis.-- cattle of hyperion.-- ulysses's raft.-- calypso entertains ulysses.-- telemachus and mentor escape from calypso's isle chapter xxiii ulysses abandons the raft.-- the country of the phaeacians.-- nausicaa's dream.-- a game of ball.-- ulysses's dilemma.-- nausicaa's courage.-- the palace of alcinous.-- skill of the phaeacian women.-- hospitality to ulysses.-- demodocus, the blind bard.-- gifts to ulysses chapter xxv virgil's description of the region of the dead.-- descend into hades.-- the black river and ferryman.-- cape palinurus.-- the three-headed dog.-- regions of sadness.-- shades of grecian and trojan warriors.-- judgment hall of rhadamanthus.-- the elysian fields.-- aeneas meets his father.-- anchises explains the plan of creation.-- transmigration of souls.-- egyptian name of hades.-- location of elysium.-- prophetic power of the sibyl.-- legend of the nine books stories of gods and heroes. chapter i introduction the literature of our time, as of all the centuries of christendom, is full of allusions to the gods and goddesses of the greeks and romans. occasionally, and, in modern days, more often, it contains allusions to the worship and the superstitions of the northern nations of europe. the object of this book is to teach readers who are not yet familiar with the writers of greece and rome, or the ballads or legends of the scandinavians, enough of the stories which form what is called their mythology, to make those allusions intelligible which one meets every day, even in the authors of our own time. the greeks and romans both belong to the same race or stock. it is generally known in our time as the aryan family of mankind; and so far as we know its history, the greeks and romans descended from the tribes which emigrated from the high table- lands of northern india. other tribes emigrated in different directions from the same centre, so that traces of the aryan language are found in the islands of the pacific ocean. the people of this race, who moved westward, seem to have had a special fondness for open air nature, and a willingness to personify the powers of nature. they were glad to live in the open air, and they specially encouraged the virtues which an open-air people prize. thus no roman was thought manly who could not swim, and every greek exercised in the athletic sports of the palaestra. the romans and grecian and german divisions of this great race are those with which we have most to do in history and in literature. our own english language is made up of the dialects of different tribes, many of whom agreed in their use of words which they had derived from our aryan ancestry. thus our substantive verb i am appears in the original sanscrit of the aryans as esmi, and m for me (moi), or the first person singular, is found in all the verbal inflections. the greek form of the same verb was esmi, which became asmi, and in latin the first and last vowels have disappeared, the verb is sum. similar relationships are traced in the numerals, and throughout all the languages of these nations. the romans, like the etruscans who came before them, were neither poetical nor imaginative in temperament. their activity ran in practical directions. they therefore invented few, if any stories, of the gods whom they worshipped with fixed rites. mr. macaulay speaks of these gods as "the sober abstractions of the roman pantheon." we owe most of the stories of the ancient mythology to the wit and fancy of the greeks, more playful and imaginative, who seized from egypt and from the east such legends as pleased them, and adapted them in their own way. it often happens that such stories, resembling each other in their foundation, are found in the greek and roman authors in several different forms. to understand these stories, we will here first acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe, which the poets and others held, and which will form the scenery, so to speak, of the narratives. the greek poets believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east, and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans [this word means "who live beyond the north" from the word "hyper," beyond, and boreas, the north wind], dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch-shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes, and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the western side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars also, except those forming charles' wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "commmus." "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east." the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter [or zeus. the relation of these names to each other will be explained on the next page], as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the odyssey will show how homer conceived of olympus:-- "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shines with purest day. t here the inhabitants divine rejoice forever.:" cowper such were the abodes of the gods as the greeks conceived them. the romans, before they knew the greek poetry, seem to have had no definite imagination of such an assembly of gods. but the roman and etruscan races were by no means irreligious. they venerated their departed ancestors, and in each family the worship of these ancestors was an important duty. the images of the ancestors were kept in a sacred place, each family observed, at fixed times, memorial rites in their honor, and for these and other religious observances the family hearth was consecrated. the earliest rites of roman worship are supposed to be connected with such family devotions. as the greeks and romans became acquainted with other nations, they imported their habits of worship, even in early times. it will be remembered that as late as st. paul's time, he found an altar at athens "to an unknown god." greeks and romans alike were willing to receive from other nations the legends regarding their gods, and to incorporate them as well as they could with their own. it is thus that in the poetical mythology of those nations, which we are now to study, we frequently find a latin and a greek name for one imagined divinity. thus zeus, of the greeks, becomes in latin with the addition of the word pater (a father) [the reader will observe that father is one of the words derived from an ayan root. let p and t become rough, as the grammarians say, let p become ph, and t th, and you have phather or father], jupiter kronos of the greeks appears as "vulcanus" of the latins, "ares" of the greeks is "mars" or mavors of the latins, "poseidon" of the greeks is "neptunus" of the latins, "aphrodite" of the greeks is "venus" of the latins. this variation is not to be confounded with a mere translation, as where "paulos" of the greek becomes "paulus" in latin, or "odysseus" becomes "ulysses," or as when "pierre" of the french becomes "peter" in english. what really happened was, that as the romans, more cultivated than their fathers, found in greek literature a god of fire and smithery, they transferred his name "hephaistos" to their own old god "vulcanus," who had the same duties, and in their after literature the latin name was used for the stories of greek and latin origin. as the english literature came into being largely on french and latin models, and as french is but a degraded latin and retains latin roots largely, in our older english poets the latin forms of these names are generally used. in our own generation, with the precision now so much courted, a fashion has come in, of designating mars by his greek name of "ares," venus by her name of "aphrodite," and so on. but in this book, as our object is to make familiar the stores of general english literature which refer to such subjects, we shall retain, in general, the latin names, only calling the attention of the reader to the greek names, as they appear in greek authors, and in many writers of the more recent english schools. the real monarch of the heavens in the mythology of both greece and rome is jupiter (zeus-pater, father-jove) [jove appears to be a word derived from the same root as zeus, and it appears in the root dev of the sanscrit, where devas are gods of different forms. our english word devil probably comes from the french diable, italian diavolo, latin diabolus, one who makes division,- - literally one who separates balls, or throws balls about,-- instead of throwing them frankly and truly at the batsman. it is not to be traced to the sanscrit deva.] in the mythological system we are tracing zeus is himself the father of many of the gods, and he is often spoken of as father of gods and men. he is the father of vulcan [in greek hephaistos], of venus [in greek aphrodite], of minerva [in greek pallas athene, or either name separately], of apollo [of phoebus], diana [in greek artemis], and of mercury [in greek hermes], who are ranked among the twelve superior gods, and of many inferior deities. but jupiter himself is not the original deity in these systems. he is the son of saturnus, as in the greek zeus is the son of kronos. still the inevitable question would occur where did saturnus or kronos come from. and, in forms and statements more and more vague, the answer was that he was born from uranus or ouranos, which is the name of the heaven over all which seemed to embrace all things. the greek name of saturn was spelled kronos. the greek name of time was spelled chronos. a similarity between the two was imagined. and the whole statement, when reduced to rationalistic language, would be that from uranus, the infinite, was born chronos, time,-- that from time, zeus or jupiter was born, and that he is the only child of time who has complete sway over mortals and immortals. "the will of jove i own, who mortals and immortals rules alone." homer, ii.xii jupiter was son of saturn (kronos) [the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] and ops (rhea in greek, sometimes confounded with the phrygian cybele). saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. in allusion to the dethronement of ouranos by kronos, and of kronos or saturnus by zeus or jupiter, prometheus says in aeschylus's tragedy,-- "you may deem its towers impregnable; but have i not already seen two monarchs hurled from them." thee is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros)_ issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself." shakespeare ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in paradise lost. he says the heathen seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man,-- "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps), had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent, for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his own children [this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity chronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring.] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn, and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera)[pronounce he-re, in two syllables] was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaistos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother, in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in paradise lost, book i. "from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo [this is a greek name of a greek divinity, who seems to have had no roman resemblance], the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of the gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called the cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him:-- venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang from his head, completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus:-- "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes), was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling and other gymnastic exercises; even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. four hours after his birth he found the shell of a tortoise, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete [from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with :"lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says,-- "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus)_, the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise; so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidency over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpischore of choral dance and song, erato of love-poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia [pronounced tha-lei-a, with the emphasis on the second syllable] of comedy. spenser described the office of the graces thus:-- "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the compliments of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high. to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished crimes by their secret stings. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan [the name pan means everything, and he is sometimes spoken of as the god of all nature] was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence, as the greeks describe him, was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology. saturn was an ancient italian deity. the roman poets tried to identify him with the grecian god kronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter, he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another, and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus [there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea], the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is another latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno; that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as a protector through life. on birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. macaulay thus alludes to some of the roman gods:-- "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." "prophecy of capys." n.b. it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes have been so long used as english words, that they may be regarded as exceptions, to be pronounced as if english. hecate is sometimes pronounced by the poets as a dissylable. in the index at the close of the volume, we shall mark the accented syllable, in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the roman poet ovid gives us a connected narrative of creation. before the earth and sea and the all-covering heaven, one aspect, which we call chaos, covered all the face of nature,-- a rough heap of inert weight and discordant beginnings of things clashing together. as yet no sun gave light to the world, nor did the moon renew her slender horn month by month,-- neither did the earth hang in the surrounding air, poised by its own weight,-- nor did the sea stretch its long arms around the earth. wherever there was earth, there was also sea and air. so the earth was not solid nor was the water fluid, neither was the air transparent. god and nature at last interposed and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below, and the water took the lowest place and buoyed up the earth. here some god, no man knows who, arranged and divided the land. he placed the rivers and bays, raised mountains and dug out valleys and distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields and stony plains. now that the air was clear the stars shone out, the fishes swam the sea and birds flew in the air, while the four-footed beasts roamed around the earth. but a nobler animal was needed, and man was made in the image of the gods with an upright stature [the two greek words for man have the root an, "up], so that while all other animals turn their faces downward and look to the earth, he raises his face to heaven and gazes on the stars [every reader will be interested in comparing this narrative with that in the beginning of genesis. it seems clear that so many jews were in rome in ovid's days, many of whom were people of consideration among those with whom he lived, that he may have heard the account in the hebrew scriptures translated. compare judaism by prof. frederic huidekoper.] to prometheus the titan and to his brother epimetheus was committed the task of making man and all other animals, and of endowing them with all needful faculties. this epimetheus did, and his brother overlooked the work. epimetheus then gave to the different animals their several gifts of courage, strength, swiftness and sagacity. he gave wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to the third. man, superior to all other animals, came last. but for man epimetheus had nothing,-- he had bestowed all his gifts elsewhere. he came to his brother for help, and prometheus, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this, man was more than equal to all other animals. fire enabled him to make weapons to subdue wild beasts, tools with which to till the earth. with fire he warmed his dwelling and bid defiance to the cold. woman was not yet made. the story is, that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,-- such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,-- and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid; but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is, that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more consistent than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. "but when good saturn, banished from above, was driven to hell, the world was under jove. succeeding times a silver age behold, excelling brass, but more excelled by gold. then summer, autumn, winter did appear, and spring was but a season of the year. the sun his annual course obliquely made, good days contracted and enlarged the bad, then air, with sultry heats, began to glow; the wings of winds were clogged with ice and sno and shivering mortals into houses driven, sought shelter from the inclemency of heaven. those houses then were caves, or homely sheds; with twining osiers fenced; and moss their beds. then ploughs, for seed, the fruitful furrows broke, and oxen labored first beneath the yoke. to this came next in course the brazen age: a warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage, not impious yet! . . . . . hard steel succeeded then; and stubborn as the metal were the men." ovid's metam, book i. dryden's translation. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea [the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets, that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the messiah of pope, this idea occurs. "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's hymn on the nativity, stanzas xiv, and xv] alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning it; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown the world. aquilo, the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; notus, the south, was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea; sea without shore. here and there some one remained on a projecting hill-top, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea- calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep; the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv, of paradise lost:-- "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of jupiter, brought by hermes, she ensnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus, the titan son of iapetus and themis, is a favorite subject with the poets. aeschylus wrote three tragedies on the subjects of his confinement, his release, and his worship at athens. of these only the first is preserved, the prometheus bound. prometheus was the only one in the council of the gods who favored man. he alone was kind to the human race, and taught and protected them. "i formed his mind, and through the cloud of barbarous ignorance diffused the beams of knowledge . . . . they saw indeed, they heard, but what availed or sight or hearing, all things round them rolling, like the unreal imagery of dreams in wild confusion mixed! the lightsome wall of finer masonry, the raftered roof they knew not; but like ants still buried, delved deep in the earth and scooped their sunless caves. unmarked the seasons ranged, the biting winter, the flower-perfumed spring, the ripening summer fertile of fruits. at random all their works till i instructed them to mark the stars, their rising, and, a harder science yet, their setting. the rich train of marshalled numbers i taught them, and the meet array of letters. to impress these precepts on their hearts i sent memory, the active mother of all reason. i taught the patient steer to bear the yoke, in all his toils joint-laborer of man. by me the harnessed steed was trained to whirl the rapid car, and grace the pride of wealth. the tall bark, lightly bounding o'er the waves, i taught its course, and winged its flying sail. to man i gave these arts." potter's translation from the prometheus bound jupiter, angry at the insolence and presumption of prometheus in taking upon himself to give all these blessings to man, condemned the titan to perpetual imprisonment, bound on a rock on mount caucasus while a vulture should forever prey upon his liver. this state of torment might at any time have been brought to an end by prometheus if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor. for prometheus knew of a fatal marriage which jove must make and by which he must come to ruin. had prometheus revealed this secret he would at once have been taken into favor. but this he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines:-- "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise, what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy, in the endurance and repulse, of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." python the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood, produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race, was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. and here apollo founded his oracle at delphi, the only oracle "that was not exclusively national, for it was consulted by many outside nations, and, in fact, was held in the highest repute all over the world. in obedience to its decrees, the laws of lycurgus were introduced, and the earliest greek colonies founded. no cities were built without first consulting the delphic oracle, for it was believed that apollo took special delight in the founding of cities, the first stone of which he laid in person; nor was any enterprise ever undertaken without inquiry at this sacred fane as to its probable success" [from beren's myths and legends of greece and rome.] the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere [from the belvedere of the vatican palace where it stands] represents the god after his victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his childe harold, iv. :-- "the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight. the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, ":your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you.:" so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp- pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking thought neither of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw her arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all in the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms bared to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. now her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her feet stuck fast in the ground, as roots; her face became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown. with you i will decorate my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. apollo was god of music and of poetry and also of medicine. for, as the poet armstrong says, himself a physician:-- "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels disease, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame. "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's adonais alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers:-- "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed. and whose wings rain contagion; how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. 'what will love not discover? it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. one morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice, standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness, after drinking at the spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "oh, hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth" he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time, thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "oh, pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe, pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death, which alone could part us, shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying, she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents acceded to her wish; the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the sylph's ball, speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover:-- "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! "the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss), through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the lusiad occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love. "here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lover's blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakespeare's play of midsummer night's dream, where it is most amusingly burlesqued. here is the description of the play and the characters by the prologue. "gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; but wonder on, till truth makes all things plain. this man is pyramus, if you would know; this lovely lady thisby is certain. this man with lime and roughcast, doth present wall, that vile wall, which did these lovers sunder; and through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content to whisper. at the which let no man wonder. this man, with lanthorn, dog and bush of thorn, presenteth moonshine; for, if you will know, by moonshine did these lovers think no scorn to meet at ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. this grisly beast, which by name lion hight. the trusty thisby, coming first by night, did scare away, or rather did affright; and, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. anon comes pyramus, sweet youth and tall, and finds his trusty thisby's mantle slain; whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, he bravely broached his boiling bloody breast; and, thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, his dagger drew and died." midsummer night's dream, v. , , et seq. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he loved devotedly. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both, were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw hie javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery; but alas! what advantage to disclose it now? she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. in shakespeare's play just quoted, there is an allusion to cephalus and procris, although rather badly spelt. pyramus says, "not shafalus to procrus was so true." thisbe. "as shafalus to procrus, i to you." moore, in his legendary ballads, has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus:-- "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh. while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iii io and callisto. diana and actaeon. the story of phaeton jupiter and juno, although husband and wife, did not live together very happily. jupiter did not love his wife very much, and juno distrusted her husband, and was always accusing him of unfaithfulness. one day she perceived that it suddenly grew dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband, on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected that the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould. this was indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer, praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loth to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without arousing suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; and she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft o gras, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name it was a short one with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, whence he could see in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury, told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never heard the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flock to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories until it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open, though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends, the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story, he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow-bearer), rambled on through scythia and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and, upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions, juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrunk up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine, there was nothing left of the heifer except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence, and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs:-- "so did he feel who pulled the boughs aside, that we might look into a forest wide, * * * * * * * * telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph poor pan how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain, full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, :"that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication,-- they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and, with continued groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy; and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped, and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and, snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and, in answer to their inquiries, thus told the cause of her coming; "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths. learn that i am supplanted in heaven,-- my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two, of whom i have so much reason to complain, exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure! see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form,-- she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result,-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says, "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear." il penseroso and prometheus, in james russell lowell's poem, says, "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar-frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithsome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole star, called also the cynosure. milton says, "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. * * * * * * * * towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes." l'allegro. the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north. he calls it also the "star of aready," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in milton's comus, the elder brother, benighted in the woods, says, "some gentle taper! through a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of aready, or tyrian chynsure." diana and actaeon it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains:-- "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and tomorrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our instruments and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thickly enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress-queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold, actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest, and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!: he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face that had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do? go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled, and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his own huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned, not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's, and, falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked every where for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name, he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in the "epic of hades" there is a description of actaeon and his change of form. perhaps the most beautiful lines in it are when actaeon, changed to a stag, first hears his own hounds and flees. "but as i gazed, and careless turned and passed through the thick wood, forgetting what had been, and thinking thoughts no longer, swift there came a mortal terror; voices that i knew. my own hounds' bayings that i loved before, as with them often o'er the purple hills i chased the flying hart from slope to slope, before the slow sun climbed the eastern peaks, until the swift sun smote the western plain; whom often i had cheered by voice and glance, whom often i had checked with hand and thong; grim followers, like the passions, firing me, true servants, like the strong nerves, urging me on many a fruitless chase, to find and take some too swift-fleeting beauty, faithful feet and tongues, obedient always: these i knew clothed with a new-born force and vaster grown, and stronger than their master; and i thought, what if they tore me with their jaws, nor knew that once i ruled them, brute pursuing brute, and i the quarry? then i turned and fled if it was i indeed that feared and fled down the long glades, and through the tangled brakes, where scarce the sunlight pierced; fled on and on, and panted, self-pursued. but evermore the dissonant music which i knew so sweet, when by the windy hills, the echoing vales and whispering pines it rang; now far, now near as from my rushing steed i leant and cheered with voice and horn the chase; this brought to me fear of i knew not what, which bade me fly, fly always, fly; but when my heart stood still, and all my limbs were stiffened as i fled, just as the white moon ghost-like climbed the sky, nearer they came and nearer, baying loud, with bloodshot eyes and red jaws dripping foam; and when i strove to check their savagery, speaking with words; no voice articulate came, only a dumb, low bleat. then all the throng leapt swift upon me and tore me as i lay, and left me man again." in shelley's poem adonais is the following allusion to the story of actaeon:-- "midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men; companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." adonais, stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story. "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied in the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me'; and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to feel her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface, or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty,. when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his don juan:-- "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" phaeton epaphus was the son of jupiter and io. phaeton, child of the sun, was one day boasting to him of his high descent and of his father phoebus. epaphus could not bear it. "foolish fellow," said he "you believe your mother in all things, and you are puffed up by your pride in a false father." phaeton went in rage and shame and reported this to his mother, clymene. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son" phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence the sun begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, but such as sisters' ought to be. the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees every thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "oh, light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father, if you permit me to use that name, give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "only this request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day; not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder bolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire which they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i should give you a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face,-- i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious, ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist, the oath is sworn and must be kept, but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition, and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds, which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the daystar, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self-command, and knows not what to do, whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, feeling the reins loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks; tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus and meander. babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and caijster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter. "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. oh, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning-bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot, phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire." his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream, one of prior's best remembered poems is that on the female phaeton, from which we quote the last verse. kitty has been imploring her mother to allow her to go out into the world as her friends have done, if only for once. "fondness prevailed, mamma gave way; kitty, at heart's desire, obtained the chariot for a day, and set the world on fire." milman, in his poem of samor, makes the following allusion to phaeton's story:-- "as when the palsied universe aghast lay .... mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th'empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o 'er phaeton untimely dead." in the beautiful lines of walter savage lando describing the sea- shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says, "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive car, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." gebir, book chapter iv midas. baucis and philemon. pluto and proserpine. bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old school master and foster father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state had wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of whatever reward he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his newly acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found that a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, became gold in his hand. he took up a stone it changed to gold. he touched a sod it did the same. he took an apple from the tree you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge in your head and body and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold-creating power passed into them, and the river sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain-god, was chosen umpire. tmolus took his seat and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower, midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and to become movable, on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or headdress. but his hairdresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, with every breeze which passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the wife of bath's tale, makes midas' queen the betrayer of the secret. "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, of which, in after times it was said, that whoever should untie it should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as the others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stand a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time, jupiter, in human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves at many a door as weary travellers, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, kindled up a fire, and fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water that their guests might wash. while all was doing they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but old and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old woman, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a shell put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-smelling herbs. upon it she set some olives, minerva's-fruit, some cornel-berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble for the old folks, eluded their pursuit with the aid of feet and wings, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had come within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner-posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd long showed the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson the following may serve as a specimen:-- "they scarce had spoke when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist, and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels, increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more, the number made the motion slower; the flier, though 't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see 't: but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side. the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares. warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn. the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and, with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." proserpine under the island of aetna lies typhoeus the titan, in punishment for his share in the rebellion of the giants against jupiter. two mountains press down the one his right and the other his left hand while aetna lies over his head. as typhoeus moves, the earth shakes; as he breathes, smoke and ashes come up from aetna. pluto is terrified at the rocking of the earth, and fears that his kingdom will be laid open to the light of day. he mounts his chariot with the four black horses and comes up to earth and looks around. while he is thus engaged, venus, sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, sees him and says: "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then, straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her from his chariot, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and her companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike, she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus, when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother," and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres, "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears or something like tears, for the gods never weep fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river-nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors" then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds, thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream; and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river-god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled, like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me, and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen, the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus build a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt but that this story of ceres and proserpine is an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn, which, when cast into the ground, lies there concealed, that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld; it reappears, that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in paradise lost, book iv.: "not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis (a name for pluto) was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world, . . . . might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his ode to melancholy, uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frightened proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear under ground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels, till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of kubla khan: "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands, or other light objects on the stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards thrown out when the river comes again to light. "oh, my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river-god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's rhymes on the road gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft of enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath, those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it, or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him . then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea-gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he himself was pleased with his looks. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on sight of him and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea-animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus, partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea-animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress, circe. accordingly he repaired to her island, the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in another story. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love, for that i do not wish, but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you if she scorns you, scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and seaweed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea-change:" "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self- ntent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my well. "twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed." keats. chapter v pygmalion. dryope. venus and adonis. apollo and hyacinthus. ceyx and halcyone. pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman could be compared to it in beauty. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself, and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it, as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love, bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand, a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife" he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead "one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and, as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and, leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch, and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and then resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and, opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem, the ideals, applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. in schiller's version, as in william morris's, the statue is of marble. "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation. the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." rev. a. g. bulfinch (brother of the author). morris tells the story of pygmalion and the image in some of the most beautiful verses of the earthly paradise. this is galatea's description of her metamorphosis: "'my sweet,' she said, 'as yet i am not wise, or stored with words aright the tale to tell, but listen: when i opened first mine eyes i stood within the niche thou knowest well, and from my hand a heavy thing there fell carved like these flowers, nor could i see things clear, but with a strange confused noise could hear. "'at last mine eyes could see a woman fair, but awful as this round white moon o'erhead, so that i trembled when i saw her there, for with my life was born some touch of dread, and therewithal i heard her voice that said, "come down and learn to love and be alive, for thee, a well-prized gift, today i give."'" dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, a precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her arms. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give him to a nurse. let him often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes; the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained, for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in endymion, alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 'twas a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child." venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts, paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from olympus, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambled through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana. she called her dogs, and chased hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but kept clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger, and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so highly as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted, and bending over it beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentation shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of a pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his comus: "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th'assyrian queen." and morris also in atalanta's race: "there by his horn the dryads well might know his thrust against the bear's heart had been true, and there adonis bane his javelin slew" apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as, when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden, it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage, ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white (it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur, or of pansy.) and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still grater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west-wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his endymion, where he describes the lookers- on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's lycidas: "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best therefore to make a voyage to claros in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house, aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer, not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the ship-house, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gives the word to take in sail, but the storm forbids obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves that his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal, a stygian blackness. the vessel obeys all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help, alas, in vain, upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. his thoughts cling to her. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the mean while halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly; that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars, that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone, in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god, somnus, here phoebus dares not come, either rising, or at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawn, with crested head, never calls aloud there to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. (this comparison of the dog and the goose is a reference by ovid to a passage in roman history.) no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; and from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst, a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore grains of sand. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand, for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of careworn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you dispatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachinae, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons, morpheus, the most expert at counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea; waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers; "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him. i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood," and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me to trust himself to the waves. o, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, that thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle. i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the sea-shore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "here he lingered and cast off his tacklings and gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every moment, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o, dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new- formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds, and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's bride of abydos might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse. "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow; that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high,. then levelled with the wave " milton, in his hymn for the nativity, thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist, smoothly the waters kist, whispering new joys to the mild ocean who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in endymion, says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter vi vertumnus and pomona. cupid and psyche the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. among them was pomona, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning knife. armed with this, she worked at one time, to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. oh, how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay-band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod as if going to fish. in this way, he gained admission to her, again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed pomona, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said vertumnus, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you, who loves you better than you have any idea of, dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits, nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offenses sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster- child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel, you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you, and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, oh, ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this! let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my name which you have reft from my life.' thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gate-post, on which he had hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling, hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom; while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse, in the following lines: "what soil the apple loves, what care is due to orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, thy gift, pomona, in miltonian verse adventurous i presume to sing." thomson, in the seasons, alludes to phillips: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." it will be seen that thomson refers to the poet's reference to milton, but it is not true that phillips is only the second writer of english blank verse. many other poets beside milton had used it long before phillips' time. but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and, as such, is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." cupid and psyche a certain king had three daughters. (this seems to be one of the latest fables of the greek mythology. it has not been found earlier than the close of the second century of the christian era. it bears marks of the higher religious notions of that time.) the two elder were charming girls, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that language is too poor to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact, venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion to a mortal of the homage due only to the immortal powers gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and june. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him, and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible) which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty, which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke, refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld nearby a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and hard by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others, filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants, and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire therefore to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper will await you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness, and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary, he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said. "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed bring forth your lamp and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced; "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountain, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting every thing to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go then, voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness; perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and thinking of what she should say and how she should best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet suffering from the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her doves, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant-hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called, and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces. psyche obediently went to the river-side, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river-god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the flock to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river-god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box, and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine, and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost come of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger, who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box, filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses. psyche encouraged by this advice obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!:" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, alone or with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his comus:-- "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side t wo blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. hervey:-- "they wove bright fables in the days of old when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim-heart, to whom a dream was given. that led her through the world, love's worshipper, to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city, by the haunted fount, through the dim grotto's tracery of spars, 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but never more they met! since doubts and fears, those phantom-shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his ode to psyche. "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censer teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's summer fete, a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche. "not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light; for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow, that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul (though few would think it), and sparkling thus on brow so white, tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter vii cadmus. the myrmidons. jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away to the island of crete, europa, the daughter of agenor king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. nearby there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians (cadmus and his companions came from tyre, the chief city of phoenicia) dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the ingushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly), commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets, with their nodding plumes, came up, and next, the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell slain with mutual wounds except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheius, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily; and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it, and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they lie in the woods, but mindful of their origin they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories, and says, "----pleasing was his shape, and lovely; never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus." the "god in epidaurus" was aesculapius. serpents were held sacred to him. the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his wars with minos, king of crete. cephalus was kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it as we best might by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals; dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds. the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall, and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them. i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains, and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick-beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder s temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. oh, how many offered prayers there; husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow. at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'oh, jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'oh, may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, oh father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain-gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger, and by-and-by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple-gates, exclaimed, 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached, and kneeling, hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them. i called them myrmidons from the ant (myrmex), from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter viii nisus and scylla. echo and narcissus. clytie. hero and leander minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months, and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin, skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow, apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but, then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and, oh, if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. oh, that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me? me who have given you victory, who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, by not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle soaring aloft, it was her father who had been changed into that form, seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship, and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea- eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight, you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. oh, how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse, but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me." "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks, and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus was cruel not in this case alone. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden, who had in vain endeavored to attract him, uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks. nor did the mountain goats resort to it, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water=spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts, echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile, and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in comus. she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention. "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green. and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likes thy narcissus are? oh, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself.'" paradise lost, book iv the fable of narcissus is often alluded to by the poets. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth struck blind by lightning: "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate" the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook. thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamored he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a sunflower, which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. one of the best known of the marble busts discovered in our own time, generally bears the name of clytie. it has been very frequently copied in plaster. it represents the head of a young girl looking down, the neck and shoulders being supported in the cup of a large flower, which by a little effort of imagination can be made into a giant sunflower. the latest supposition, however, is that this bust represented not clytie, but isis. hood in his flowers thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun; but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." it is only for convenience that the modern poets translate the latin word heliotropium, by the english sunflower. the sunflower, which was known to the ancients, was called in greek, helianthos, from helios, the sun; and anthos a flower, and in latin, helianthus. it derives its name from its resemblance to the sun; but, as any one may see, at sunset, it does not "turn to the god when he sets the same look that it turned when he rose." the heliotrope of the fable of clytie is called turn-sole in old english books, and such a plant is known in england. it is not the sweet heliotrope of modern gardens, which is a south american plant. the true classical heliotrope is probably to be found in the heliotrope of southern france, a weed not known in america. the reader who is curious may examine the careful account of it in larousse's large dictionary. hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore in the town of sestos lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower, for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light, hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be, as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death. nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. oh, horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the bride of abydos he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. oh, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." the subject has been a favorite one with sculptors. schiller has made one of his finest ballads from the tragic fate of the two lovers. the following verses are a translation from the latter part of the ballad: "upon hellespont's broad currents night broods black, and rain in torrents from the cloud's full bosom pours; lightnings in the sky are flashing, all the storms below are dashing on the crag-piled shores. awful chasms gaping widely, separate the mountain waves; ocean yawning as to open downward e'en to pluto's caves." after the storm has arisen, hero sees the danger, and cries, "woe, ah! woe; great jove have pity, listen to my sad entreaty, yet for what can hero pray? should the gods in pity listen, he, e'en now the false abyss in, struggles with the tempest's spray. all the birds that skim the wave in hasty flight are hieing home; t the lee of safer haven all the storm-tossed vessels come. "ah! i know he laughs at danger, dares again the frequent venture, lured by an almighty power; for he swore it when we parted, with the vow which binds true-hearted lovers to the latest hour. yes! even as this moment hastens battles he the wave-crests rude, and to their unfathomed chasms dags him down the angry flood. "pontus false! thy sunny smile was the lying traitor's guile, like a mirror flashing there: all thy ripples gently playing til they triumphed in betraying him into thy lying snare. now in thy mid-current yonder, onward still his course he urges, thou the false, on him the fated pouring loose thy terror-surges. waxes high the tempest's danger, waves to mountains rise in anger, oceans swell, and breakers dash, foaming, over cliffs of rock where even navies, stiff with oak, could not bear the crash. in the gale her torch is blasted, beacon of the hoped-for strand; horror broods above the waters, horror broods above the land. prays she venus to assuage the hurricane's increasing rage, and to sooth the billows' scorn. and as gale on gale arises, vows to each as sacrifices spotless steer with gilded horn. to all the goddesses below, to "all the gods in heaven that be," she prays that oil of peace may flow softly on the storm-tossed sea. blest leucothea, befriend me! from cerulean halls attend me; hear my prayer of agony. in the ocean desert's raving, storm-tossed seamen, succor craving, find in thee their helper nigh. wrap him in thy charmed veil, secret spun and secret wove, certain from the deepest wave to lift him to its crests above." now the tempests wild are sleeping, and from the horizon creeping rays of morning streak the skies, peaceful as it lay before the placid sea reflects the shore, skies kiss waves and waves the skies. little ripples, lightly plashing, break upon the rock-bound strand, and they trickle, lightly playing o'er a corpse upon the sand. yes, 'tis he! although he perished, still his sacred troth he cherished, an instant's glance tells all to her; not a tear her eye lets slip not a murmur leaves her lip; down she looks in cold despair; gazes round the desert sea, trustless gazes round the sky, flashes then of noble fire through her pallid visage fly! "yes, i know, ye mighty powers, ye have drawn the fated hours pitiless and cruel on. early full my course is over. such a course with such a lover; such a share of joy i've known. venus, queen, within thy temple, thou hast known me vowed as thine, now accept thy willing priestess as an offering at thy shrine." downward then, while all in vain her fluttering robes would still sustain her, springs she into pontus' wave; grasping him and her, the god whirls them in his deepest flood, and, himself, becomes their grave. with his prizes then contented, peaceful bids his waters glide, from the unexhausted vessels, whence there streams an endless tide. chapter ix minerva and arachne. niobe. the story of perseus minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she, they say, sprang forth from his brain full grown and clad in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men, such as agriculture and navigation, and those of women, spinning, weaving, and needle-work. she was also a warlike divinity; but a lover of defensive war only. she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. in another contest, a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, when woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten, i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. assuming the form of an old woman, she went and gave arachne some friendly advice. "i have had much experience,: said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and, as she is merciful, perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning, and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part, i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise, stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer, nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower (this description of the rainbow is literally translated rom ovid), in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a shower of gold. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal, europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea, and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull so naturally was it wrought, and so natural was the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with these and like subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle, and rent it in pieces; she then touched the forehead of arachne, and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it, and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her hanging by a rope. "live, guilty woman," said she; " and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers grew to her side, and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his muiopotmos, adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare. she stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare, and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "oh, then, beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his palace of art, describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "---- sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his princess there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been, if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana, when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows, that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her face as beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this! to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship rather than i? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes; and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add, i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in- law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities, put off the laurel from your brows, have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on top of mount cynthus where she dwelt, she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there among the rest, some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah, me!" dropped the reins and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow, like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port, gave the rein to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render them assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercession; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed, now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror. scarce had she spoken when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! oh, spare me one of so many?!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, nor color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and, borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. the slaughter of the children of niobe by apollo, alludes to the greek belief that pestilence and illness were sent by apollo, and one dying by sickness was said to be struck by apollo's arrow. it is to this that morris alludes in the earthly paradise: "while from the freshness of his blue abode, glad his death-bearing arrows to forget, the broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet." our illustration of this story is a copy of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child, is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in rhymes on the road: "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. the graeae and gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. they also were three in number, two of them immortal, but the other, medusa, mortal. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa acrisius was the king who ruled in argos. to him had an oracle declared that he should be slain by the child of his daughter danae. therefore the cruel king, thinking it better that danae should have no children than that he should be slain, ordered a tower of brass to be made, and in this tower he confined his daughter away from all men. but who can withstand jupiter? he saw danae, loved her, and changing his form to a shower of gold, he shone into the apartment of the captive girl. perseus was the child of jupiter and danae. acrisius, finding that his precautions had come to nought, and yet hardly daring to kill his own daughter and her young child, placed them both in a chest and sent the chest floating on the sea. it floated away and was finally entangled in the net of dicte, a fisherman in the island of seriphus. he brought them to his house and treated them kindly, and in the house of dicte, perseus grew up. when perseus was grown up, polydectes, king of that country, wishing to send perseus to his death, bade him go in quest of the head of medusa. medusa had once been a beautiful maiden, whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and beasts which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. minerva and mercury aided perseus. from minerva, perseus borrowed her shield, and from mercury the winged shoes and the harpe or crooked sword. after having flown all over the earth perseus espied in the bright shield the image of medusa and her two immortal sisters. flying down carefully he cut at her with his harpe and severed her head. putting the trophy in his pouch he flew away just as the two immortal sisters were awakened by the hissings of their snaky locks. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor of parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. and all in vain was atlas turned to a mountain, for the oracle did not mean perseus, but the hero hercules, who should come long afterwards to get the golden apples for his cousin eurystheus. perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia, his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed hy the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound the monster raised himself into the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death-stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills re-echoed to the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin, both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his penseroso, where he addresses melancholy as the "---- goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen," because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. "prince memnon" was the son of aurora and tithonus, of whom we shall hear later. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of war-like clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated, "you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done.:" phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus: "i will make my enemy defend me." then, with a loud voice he exclaimed, :if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away, he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's samor: "as 'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." then perseus returned to seriphus to king polydectes and to his mother danae and the fisherman dicte. he marched up the tyrant's hall, where polydectes and his guests were feasting. "have you the head of medusa?" exclaimed polydectes. "here it is," answered perseus, and showed it to the king and to his guests. the ancient prophecy which acrisius had so much feared at last came to pass. for, as perseus was passing through the country of larissa, he entered into competition with the youths of the country at the game of hurling the discus. king acrisius was among the spectators. the youths of larissa threw first, and then perseus. his discus went far beyond the others, and, seized by a breeze from the sea, fell upon the foot of acrisius. the old king swooned with pain, and was carried away from the place only to die. perseus, who had heard the story of his birth and parentage from danae, when he learned who acrisius was, filled with remorse and sorrow, went to the oracle at delphi, and there was purified from the guilt of homicide. perseus gave the head of medusa to minerva, who had aided him so well to obtain it. minerva took the head of her once beautiful rival and placed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his comus, thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the art of preserving health, thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds. . . . the surges baited by the fierce northeast, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. * * * * * such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" imitations of shakespeare of atlas there is another story, which i like better than the one told. he was one of the titans who warred against jupiter like typhoeus, briareus, and others. after their defeat by the king of gods and men, atlas was condemned to stand in the far western part of the earth, by the pillars of hercules, and to hold on his shoulders the weight of heaven and the stars. the story runs that perseus, flying by, asked and obtained rest and food. the next morning he asked what he could do to reward atlas for his kindness. the best that giant could think of was that perseus should show him the snaky head of medusa, that he might be turned to stone and be at rest from his heavy load. chapter x monsters. giants. sphinx. pegasus and the chimaera. centaurs. griffin. pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and the chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt, and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman, with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved to pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet, and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. here the infant was found by a herdsman of polybus, king of corinth, who was pasturing his flock upon mount cithaeron. polybus and merope, his wife, adopted the child, whom they called oedipus, or swollen-foot, for they had no children themselves, and in corinth oedipus grew up. but as oedipus was at delphi, the oracle prophesied to him that he should kill his father and marry his own mother. fighting against fate, oedipus resolved to leave corinth and his parents, for he thought that polybus and merope were meant by the oracle. soon afterwards, laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command, the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the high-road. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion, and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and stopped all travellers who came that way, proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes, and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned hy all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him; till after a tedious period of miserable wandering, he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught and tamed him, and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king iobates sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death- warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle, the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounting, rose with him into the air, and soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera, bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all; till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed; but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning o the seventh book of paradise lost: "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing, up-led by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, (thy tempering;) with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere,) dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander, and forlorn." young in his night thoughts, speaking of the skeptic, says, "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment; he condemns himself, who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol. ii. , . pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet, and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him. but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him. as soon as he was seated on his back, the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god; unfolded the splendor of his wings and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his pegasus in pound. shakespeare alludes to pegasus in henry iv, where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship." the centaurs the greeks loved to people their woods and hills with strange wild people, half man, half beast. such were the satyrs men with goats' legs. but nobler and better were the centaurs, men to the waist, while the rest was the form of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming any very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia, they were among the guests. at the feast, eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but all the centaurs were not like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant aesculapius was intrusted to his charge, by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve. aesculapius, when grown up, became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit (a cubit was a measure of about thirteen inches), which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero awaking laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's-skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton used the pygmies for a simile, paradise lost, book i: "----like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees, (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits artibress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, paradise lost, book ii.: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold." chapter xi the golden fleece. medea. the calydonian hunt in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram, with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram sprung into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont, now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phyrxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, the king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias, on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel was named the argo, from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the argo with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon, which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils, that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hands, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. then aeetes promised the next day to give them the fleece, and the greeks went joyfully down to the argo with the hero jason in their midst. but that night medea came down to jason, and bade him make haste and follow her, for that her father proposed the next morning to attack the argonauts and to destroy their ship. they went together to the grove of mars, where the golden fleece hung guarded by the dreadful dragon, who glared at the hero and his conductor with his great round eyes that never slept. but medea was prepared, and began her magic songs and spells, and sprinkled over him a sleeping potion which she had prepared by her art. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece, and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel, before aeetes, the king, could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the argo to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found, after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a modern writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result, it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name argo seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his ode on st. cecelia's day, thus celebrates the launching of the ship argo, and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of the fleece there is an account of the ship argo and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins, castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial." hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the argo put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrine, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." but hercules, as some say, went onward to colchis by land, and there performed many mighty deeds, and wiped away the stain of cowardice which might have clung to him. medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my wife, i would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, and take some years from my life to add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate (hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs whose barking told her approach.), the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus, the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantments are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and, borne aloft, made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech-owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags, animals tenacious of life, and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these, with many other things without a name, she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold, the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass, wherever the sprinklings fell, shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and, when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed-chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then, turning away their faces and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?:" their hearts failed them, and the weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, for their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus; and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in macbeth. the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. * * * * * * fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog. adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: * * * * * * maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark." macbeth, act iv., scene and again: macbeth. what is't you do? witches. a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of medea, where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "oh, haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" the calydonian hunt. meleager and atalanta the search for the golden fleece was undertaken by jason, aided by heroes from all greece, or hellas as it was then called. it was the first of their common undertakings which made the greeks feel that they were in truth one nation, though split up into many small kingdoms. another of their great gatherings was for the calydonian hunt, and another, the greatest and most famous of all, for the trojan war. the hero of the quest for the golden fleece was jason. with the other heroes of the greeks, he was present at the calydonian hunt. but the chief hero was meleager, the son of oeneus, king of calydon, and althea, his queen. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana, and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the files of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war, these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear even in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monsters side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. phlexippus and toxeus, the uncles of meleager and althea's brothers, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the purposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius (thestius was father of toxeus, phlexippus and althea) is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers, forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou has lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions: "i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran, she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus; "help me, venus, for you have led me on" venus heard, and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches, and golden fruit. hence venus gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by all else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal, and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered on hippomenes: "now, now do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her ear, there they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art, she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she sometimes wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." childe harold, iv in moore's rhymes on the road, the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes, thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xii hercules. hebe and ganymede hercules (in greek, heracles) was the son of jupiter and alemena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. (on this account the infant hercules was made the type of infant america, by dr. franklin, and the french artists whom he employed in the american revolution. horatio greenough has placed a bas- relief of the infant hercules on the pedestal of his statue of washington, which stands in front of the capitol.) he was however by the arts of juno rendered subject to his cousin eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the twelve "labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was to slaughter the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone, of which the story is that when the country was suffering from drought, neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its head with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle; but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went among the other amazons and persuaded them that the strangers were carrying off their queen. the amazons instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle, made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was said to be king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or according to another account rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was bringing the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperis, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought, might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. (hercules was a descendant of perseus. perseus changed atlas to stone. how could hercules take his place? this is only one of the many anachronisms found in ancient mythology.) milton in his comus makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus, and nieces of atlas: "---- amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erytheia, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra (the earth) was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were), they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine (one of the seven hills of rome), and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their foot-prints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the handmaidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries, and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so, and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules, the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board, he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides (alcides, a name of hercules; the word means "descendant of alcaeus"), from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end; but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them; "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the ideal and life, illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." s. g. bulfinch hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cupbearer to the gods. the usual story is, that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the gallery of the boston athenaeum. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his palace of art, describes among the decorations on the walls, a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's prometheus, jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the choice of hercules may be found in the tatler, no. . the same story is told in the memorabilia of xenophon. chapter xiii theseus. daedalus. castor and pollux theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezene. he was brought up at troezene, and, when arrived at manhood, was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus, on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone, and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease, and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country, by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach, he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club, and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband, if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her. theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. for minerva had appeared to theseus in a dream, and warned him that ariadne was destined to be the wife of bacchus, the wine-god. (one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is in the athenaeum gallery, boston. the celebrated statue of ariadne, by danneker, represents her as riding on the tiger of bacchus, at a somewhat later period of her story.) on approaching the coast of attica, theseus, intent on ariadne, forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen, antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself, what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the underworld. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakespeare's midsummer night's dream, the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. mr. lewis morris has a beautiful poem on helen, in the epic of hades. in these lines helen describes how she was seized by theseus and his friend: ----"there came a night when i lay longing for my love, and knew sudden the clang of hoofs, the broken doors, the clash of swords, the shouts, the groans, the stain of red upon the marble, the fixed gaze of dead and dying eyes, that was the time when first i looked on death, and when i woke from my deep swoon, i felt the night air cool upon my brow, and the cold stars look down, as swift we galloped o'er the darkling plain and saw the chill sea-glimpses slowly wake, with arms unknown around me. when the dawn broke swift, we panted on the pathless steeps, and so by plain and mountain till we came to athens, ----." theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus or sacred robe of minerva was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive- branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs by phidias which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games we may mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said , by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in midsummer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne, was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maender, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea,:" said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight, he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd learned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father, it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his next in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "---- with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg, from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hasted to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica, and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection, and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers (one of the ships in which st. paul sailed was named the castor and pollux. see acts xxviii.ii.), and the lambent flames, which in certain sates of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini, the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus, in the early history of rome, they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his lays of ancient rome, thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. . . . . . . . . . "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven through billows and through gales, if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." in the poem of atalanta in calydon mr. swinburne thus describes the little helen and clytemnestra, the sisters of castor and pollux: meleager "even such i saw their sisters, one swan white, the little helen, and less fair than she, fair clytemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns, who feed and fear the arrow; but at whiles, as one smitten with love or wrung with joy, she laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then weeps; whereat helen, having laughed, weeps too, and the other chides her, and she being chid speaks naught, but cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, laughing; so fare they, as in their blameless bud, and full of unblown life, the blood of gods." althea "sweet days before them, and good loves and lords, and tender and temperate honors of the hearth; peace, and a perfect life and blameless bed" chapter xiv bacchus. ariadne bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made know her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his drinking song thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves or zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses." it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counselors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus beholding him, with wrathful countenance said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner unterrified responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos, we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus the leader of the sailors' cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus, for it was indeed he, as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' "naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety,' took my place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once strange as it may seem, it is true the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung with its heavy clusters of berries to the sails. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the sailors were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others, preparing to do the same, beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another endeavoring to pull the oar felt his hands shrink up, and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another trying to raise his arms to a rope found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. the god cheered me, as i trembled with fear. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer toward naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution, the prison doors opened of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when the guards looked for him he was no where to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain cithaeron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war-horse. he penetrated the wood and reached an open space where the wildest scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's comus, at line . the story of circe will be found in chapter xxii. "bacchus that first from out the purple grape crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan mariners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell; (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine.)" ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her and made her his wife as minerva had prophesied to theseus. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, when the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xv the rural deities. erisichthon. rhoecus. the water deities. camenae. winds. pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and, as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies in greek, all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods, and heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one of several classes of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode, and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases was severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we shall soon record. milton, in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "in shadier bower more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn. so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from th e sea, and hear old tritou blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem the gods of greece, expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poetess, mrs. browning, in her poem called the dead pan. the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned, and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton, in his hymn to the nativity: "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak, so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it, and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate, he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed, :"i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down, if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe, and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk, blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands, forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash, and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads, in dismay at the loss of their companion, and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear, and shuddering, and famine. go to famine and tell her to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance," (for famine dwells very far from ceres,) "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near) she delivered the commands of ceres; and though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. in obedience to the commands of ceres, famine sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bed-chamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth, sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation was not enough for him. the more he ate, the move he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all, and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser, and as she stood by the seaside, raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and, though her new master was not far off, and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form, and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good, and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered, and rejoiced inwardly at hearing the question asked her of herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line, that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag, got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life, and bade him ask what reward he would have for it. rhoecus boldly asked her love, and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant, and told him that a bee should be her messenger, and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts, and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, james russell lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the sea. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores, and the like. he created the horse, and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on the dolphin. having won her, he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge, and his love of truth and justice, and is described as the wise and unerring old man of the sea. the gift of prophecy was also ascribed to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan, that thetis should bear a son who should be greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride, and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband, with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck, and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portumnus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of comus. "sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook (proteus) by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus; spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands, by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet." armstrong, the poet of the art of preserving health, under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. oh, comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he embodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in childe harold, canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy." tennyson, also, in his palace of art, gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview. "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind, zephyrus or favonius, the west, notus or auster, the south, and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in paradise lost, where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep: "he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus, 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the night thoughts, addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable), for whom the winter rose must blow, . . . . . . and silky soft favonious breathe still softer or be chid!" fortuna is the latin name for tyche, the goddess of fortune. the worship of fortuna held a position of much higher importance at rome than did the worship of tyche among the greeks. she was regarded at rome as the goddess of good fortune only, and was usually represented holding the cornucopia. victoria, the latin form for the goddess nike, was highly honored among the conquest-loving romans, and many temples were dedicated to her at rome. there was a celebrated temple at athens to the greek goddess nike apteros, or wingless victory, of which remains still exist. chapter xvi achelous and hercules. admetus and alcestis. antigone. penelope the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations, when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power. sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say, i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove, and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his step-mother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity, nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds. with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture, and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clinching his hands in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others, and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil, and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me, and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and, dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn, and made it her own, and called it cornucopia. the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is, that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows, by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, paradise lost, book iv.: "that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become he servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysus. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents, fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet on his deceased wife. "methought i saw my late espoused saint, brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." james russell lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." in the love of alcestis, one of the poems in the earthly paradise, mr. morris thus tells the story of the taming of the lions: "---- rising up no more delay he made, but took the staff and gained the palace-door where stood the beasts, whose mingled whine and roar had wrought his dream; there two and two they stood, thinking, it might be, of the tangled wood, and all the joys of the food-hiding trees. but harmless as their painted images 'neath some dread spell; then, leaping up, he took the reins in hand and the bossed leather shook, and no delay the conquered beasts durst make, but drew, not silent; and folk just awake, when he went by as though a god they saw, fell on their knees, and maidens come to draw fresh water from the fount, sank trembling down, and silence held the babbling, wakened town." antigone the poems and histories of legendary greece often relate, as has been seen, to women and their lives. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who, with all their descendants, were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings, and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer, were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight, declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall, he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias, in his youth, had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one, on pain of death, to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at nought the solemn edict of the city. her love, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her characteristics of women, has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakespeare's king lear. the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? oh, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. oh, my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." francklin's sophocles penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hopping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xvii orpheus and eurydice. artistaeus. amphion. linus. thamyris. marsyas. melampus. musaeus orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, and he played to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow mortals, but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty, and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts, and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true! i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love had led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you, and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me, i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn round to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace one another they grasped only the air. dying now a second time she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell," and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible, one day, one of them, excited by the rites of bacchus, exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her, with eager arms. they roam through those happy fields together now, sometimes he leads, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his ode for st. cecelia's day. the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows. see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries. ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue; eurydice the woods, eurydice the floods, eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung." the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus, is alluded to by southey in his thalaba: "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose! far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment; the waterfall remote; the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love-song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves." aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story (from the georgies, book iv. . ), shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident. the shepherd aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "oh, mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you, my mother, have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage, and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot, by all his arts, get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon, or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave, and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. then noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed hy his herd of sea- calves, which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but trying all in vain, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do you want with me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you received the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction bo your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses, and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in the task, cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc." "less worthy of applause though more admired, because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in comus: "sabrina fair! listen when thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre, and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights, and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead (the punishment of dirce is the subject of a celebrated group of statuary now in the museum at naples). amphion, having become king of thebes fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. in tennyson's poem of amphion is an amusing use of this story: "oh, had i lived when song was great, in days of old amphion, and ta'en my fiddle to the gate nor feared for reed or scion! and had i lived when song was great, and legs of trees were limber, and ta'en my fiddle to the gate, and fiddled to the timber! "'tis said he had a tuneful tongue, such happy intonation, wherever he sat down and sung he left a small plantation; whenever in a lonely grove he set up his forlorn pipes, the gouty oak began to move and flounder into hornpipes." linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness (paradise lost, book iii. ). marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of night heard the wood-worms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through, and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded malampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his il penseroso: "but, oh, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bed the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xviii arion. ibycus. simonides. sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons, some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the age of fable, that is, that of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, the story of arion from schlegel, and that of ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt at the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my wide- spread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "oh, periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean, but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life will be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if, on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death-song, and my harp-strings shall cease to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded, they thought only of their booty, but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood, ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks. "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide-spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spencer represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his love, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his childe harold, canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven, a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows, it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense buildings providing seats for from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festal occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead, taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far, and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying, he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed; "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feat? did he fall by the hands of robbers, or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods, mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the ampitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise, tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings! the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair, writing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymn, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we, the fearful family of night, fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches "look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, with some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers pale with terror betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the lamentation of danae, the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father acrisius in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child perseus when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself as recorded by tradition. on one occasion when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of the performance, castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely however had he left the banqueting-hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap," would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in childe harold, canto ii.: those who wish to know more of sappho and her leap, are referred to the spectator, nos. and , and also to moore's evenings in greece. chapter xix endymion. orion. aurora and tithonus. acis and galatea endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night, diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death. s. g. bulfinch the endymion of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken." dr. young in the night thoughts alludes to endymion thus: "these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamored less than i of thee." fletcher, in the faithful shepherdess, tells, "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight, and cast him out on the sea shore. the blinded hero followed the sound of the cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading though the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them, and became enamored, and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their numbers was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said, left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation one by one were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us, "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." locksley hall byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. heman's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus. aurora, the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victor declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who, from her station in the sky, had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral-pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year, at the anniversary of his death, they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there will exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue, a sound is heard to issue from it which they compare to the snapping of a harp- string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which, on being struck, emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his botanic garden, says, "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom if you will you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred for polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. oh, venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then, for the first time, he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument, compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock, by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and like a raging bull, that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!" the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. chapter xx the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus. at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests with the inscription, "for the most beautiful." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva, each claimed the apple. jupiter not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca, ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect, diomedes, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero, ulysses, famous for his sagacity, and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. hector felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas the soothsayer thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia enveloped in a cloud was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his dream of fair women, makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice, the moment represented in our engraving: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly, and nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs panted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand, mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod, these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "but should suspense permit the foe to cry, 'behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die!'" in soul i swept the indignity away; old frailties then recurred; but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought. . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" the iliad the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, the iliad, begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not however without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace, and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented; and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field, and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now, instead of besieging troy, they were in a manner besieged themselves within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed, and struck ajax where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating, and it fell harmless. then ajax, seeing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him, and bore him off stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and, to crown all, had borrowed of venus her girdle called cestus, which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was dispatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice; achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let hm at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates; diomedes, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe. "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked every where for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also decended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector pressing forward pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who, retiring a short distance, divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortune, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might dispatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, oh, give us day." cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "lord of earth and air! oh, king! oh, father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corslet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of petroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord, and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle, inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof, but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield, the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from his city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without, determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated, achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lighting as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength, and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and, thus strengthened, stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious." so saying, he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles, choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part, and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, nought shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying, he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet, tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds, and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust, and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him round the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. when achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasures and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion, as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand, offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hindrance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended hy two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him, and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles, reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou has reached this place conducted by some god, for without divine aid no mortal even in the prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request; moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy, thronging forth, encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." pope's homer chapter xxi the fall of troy. return of the greeks. orestes and electra the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war-cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis, his mother, had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. (the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if he were invulnerable?) the body of achilles, so treacherously slain, was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who, of all survivors, should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last, and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomedes was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he succeeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the concluding part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance. "---- hither came at noon mournful oenone, wandering forlorn of paris, once her playmate on the hills. her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck floated her hair, or seemed to float in rest. she, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff. . . . . . . . . . . . . . "'o mother ida, many-fountain'd ida, dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. i waited underneath the dawning hills, aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark, and dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine: beautiful paris, evil-hearted paris, leading a jet-black goat, white-horned, white-hooved, come up from reedy simois, all alone. "'o mother ida, hearken ere i die. far off the torrent called me from the cliff: far up the solitary morning smote the streaks of virgin snow. with downdropt eyes i sat alone: white-breasted like a star fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard-skin drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair clustered about his temples like a god's, and his cheek brightened as the foambow brightens when the wind blows the foam, and all my heart went forth to embrace him coming, ere he came. "'dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. he smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm disclosed a fruit of pure hesperian gold, that smelt ambrosially, and while i looked and listened, the full-flowing river of speech came down upon my heart. "my own oenone, beautiful-browed oenone, my own soul, behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingraven 'for the most fair,' would seem award it thine as lovelier than whatever oread haunt the knolls of ida, loveliest in all grace of movement, and the charm of married brows." "'dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. he prest the blossom of his lips to mine, and added, "this was cast upon the board, when all the full-faced presence of the gods hanged in the halls of peleus; whereupon rose feud, with question unto whom 'twas due; but light-foot iris brought it yester-eve delivering, that to me, by common voice elected umpire, herÂ� comes to-day, pallas and aphrodite, claiming each this meed of fairest. thou within the cave beyond yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, may'st well behold them unbeheld, unheard hear all, and see thy paris judge of gods."'" there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomedes entered the city in disguise, and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn, and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long- prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune, exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this! have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it, they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings, and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared advancing over the sea two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being led out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. "there is a cast of it in the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the childe harold of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with as immortal's patience blending; vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's description of a city shower: "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and over and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks, impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through;) laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom, and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus (pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial.), the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of this warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. from schiller's poem "cassandra": "and men my prophet wail deride! the solemn sorrow dies in scorn; and lonely in the waste, i hide the tortured heart that would forewarn. amid the happy, unregarded, mock'd by their fearful joy, i trod; oh, dark to me the lot awarded, thou evil pythian god! "thine oracle, in vain to be, oh, wherefore am i thus consigned, with eyes that every truth must see, lone in the city of the blind? cursed with the anguish of a power to view the fates i may not thrall, the hovering tempest still must lower, the horror must befall! boots it th veil to lift, and give to sight the frowning fates beneath? for error is the life we live, and, oh, our knowledge is but death! take back the clear and awful mirror, shut from my eyes the blood-red glare; thy truth is but the gift of terror, when mortal lips declare. "my blindness give to me once more, they gay dim senses that rejoice; the past's delighted songs are o'er for lips that speak a prophet's voice. to me the future thou hast granted; i miss the moment from the chain the happy present hour enchanted! take back thy gift again!" sir edw. l. bulwer's translation menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomedes entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret, and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the fleece, thus alludes to the incident: "----many yet adhere to the ancient distaff at the bosom fixed. casting the whirling spindle as they walk. . . . . . . . . . . this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." comus menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. in "the victory feast," schiller thus reviews the return of the greek heroes. "the son of atreus, king of men, the muster of the hosts surveyed, how dwindled from the thousands, when along scamander first arrayed! with sorrow and the cloudy thought, the great king's stately look grew dim, of all the hosts to ilion brought, how few to greece return with him! still let the song to gladness call, for those who yet their home shall greet! for them the blooming life is sweet; return is not for all! "nor all who reach their native land may long the joy of welcome feel; beside the household gods may stand grim murder, with awaiting steel and they who 'scape the foe, may die beneath the foul, familiar glaive. thus he to whom prophetic eye her light the wise minerva gave; 'ah! bless'd, whose hearth, to memory true the goddess keeps unstained and pure; for woman's guile is deep and sure, and falsehood loves the new!' "the spartan eyes his helen's charms, by the best blood of greece recaptured; round that fair form his glowing arms (a second bridal) wreath, enraptured. woe waits the work of evil birth, revenge to deeds unblessed is given! for watchful o'er the things of earth, the eternal council-halls of heaven. yes, ill shall never ill repay; jove to the impious hands that stain the altar of man's heart, again the doomer's doom shall weigh!" sir edw. l. bulwer's translation agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge another's wrongs, was not so fortunate in the issue as his brother. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she, with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. the conspirators intended also to slay his son orestes, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius, orestes grew up with the king's son, pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother hy messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to he a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings, and watched over him. at length in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana, at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinnyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinnyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in childe harold, canto iv, alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution, just, had it but been from hands less near, in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn, and embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy after hearing so much about the city of troy and its heroes, the reader will perhaps be surprised to learn that the exact site of that famous city is still a matter of dispute. there are some vestiges of tombs on the plain which most nearly answers to the description given by homer and the ancient geographers, but no other evidence of the former existence of a great city. byron thus describes the present appearance of the scene: "the winds are high, and helle's tide rolls darkly heaving to the main; and night's descending shadows hide that field with blood bedewed in vain, the desert of old priam's pride, the tombs, sole relics of his reign, all save immortal dreams that could beguile the blind old man of scio's rocky isle." bride of abydos. chapter xxii adventures of ulysses. the lotus-eaters. cyclopes. circe. sirens. scylla and charybdis. calypso the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom of ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, a city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of his ship. (tennyson in the lotus-eaters has charmingly expressed the dreamy languid feeling which the lotus-food is said to have produced: "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half-dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each other's whispered speech; eating the lotus, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray; to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass.") they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the riches of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then turning round his great eye he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand, seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and dispatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses, approaching him, handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of man's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once and again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round and round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster filled the cavern with his outcry, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. the cyclops, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked around the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before, the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians the next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; ulysses alone moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, having huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears dispatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where dwelt circe, the daughter of the sun. landing here ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in. they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties, and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempts, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pas safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who had heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive, that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people, begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his endymion he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks for she had six heads, and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably by ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away shrieking to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis, the next land he would make was trinakria, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed, destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the stories we have just been relating is from milton's comus, line : "i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention. and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph. one of that numerous class of female divinities of lower rank than the gods, yet sharing many of their attributes. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamored of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received a command from jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and every where appeared meadows of softest verdure purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of telemachus, has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who, in the shape of mentor, accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxiii the odyssey (continued) the phaeacians. fate of the suitors ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaecians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side they turned out the mules to graze, and unloading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon dispatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed, and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a shipwrecked mariner, but just escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed between him and a group of young maidens, whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins, at sight of him, fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for minerva aided and endowed her with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brothers' garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger; to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions, and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her, and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the door-posts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches, which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, in which grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine-press. on the garden's borders flowers of every hue bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing toward the queen, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth- side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received his garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish him a ship in which he might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard, "dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the wooden horse, by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly of the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses in reply announced himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that each chief should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. but neptune was displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands. in revenge, on the return of the vessel to port, he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses, "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." odyssey, book viii lord carlisle, in his diary in the turkish and greek waters, thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the odyssey. the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched atop it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors it was now twenty years that ulysses had been away from ithaca, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. but minerva, appearing to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. arriving at ithaca, he sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept, desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should go also, as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from those we concede to it now. as traveller and story-teller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the court-yard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "soon he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad signs he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. . . . then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors soon began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of any one of her suitors so long, that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve, was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times, was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition, there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all the suitors were slain, except phemius the bard and medon the herald, and ulysses was left master of his own palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. among schiller's works is the following epigram on ulysses: "to gain his home all oceans he explored; here scylla frowned, and there charybdis roared; horror on sea, and horror on the land, in hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land, till borne a slumberer to his native spot, he woke, and sorrowing, knew his country not." sir edward bulwer"s translation tennyson's poem of ulysses represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "come my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew, tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." chapter xxiv adventures of aeneas the harpies dido palinurus we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings, on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was woo old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act, a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him, and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions hastened away, considering the land to be accursed by the stain of such a crime. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, as ambiguous as usual "seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy, and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete, and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete, and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs, aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country, and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies: "----the daughters of the earth and sea, the dreadful snatchers, who like women were down to the breast, with scanty coarse black hair about their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red, and bestial mouths set round with lips of lead, but from their gnarled necks there began to spring half hair, half feathers, and a sweeping wing grew out instead of arm on either side, and thick plumes underneath the breast did hide the place where joined the fearful natures twain. gray-feathered were they else, with many a stain of blood thereon, and on birds' claws they went. morris: life and death of jason the harpies had been sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him, the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished, and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table, than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes, and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle, and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily, and passed the country of cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses' companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses' adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them, as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was, but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods, and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars, and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla, while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell! accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds, the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued, and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds, and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his panegyric to the lord protector (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed.." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter dispatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas, under this divine command, parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral-pile which she had caused to be prepared, and, having stabbed herself, was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. we find in "elegant extracts" the following epigram: from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying." dr. johnson was once challenged to make an epigram on the syllables di,do,dum. he immediately replied in these lines: "when dido found aeneas would not come, she wept in silence, and was dido dumb. palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal, and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus, sent by neptune, approached in the guise of phorbas and said, "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down a while and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds, me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise, and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's marmion, introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "oh, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father anchises to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy; the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty. she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off, to be borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious, it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed. aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother venus sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxv the infernal regions the sibyl at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion, we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil places the entrance into this abode, is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hades they passed through a group of beings who are griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death, forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, had not the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, high-souled heroes, boys and unmarried girls as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage, and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?: she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied, are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto, but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves, should be stirred up by the prodigies to give it the burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached the shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his back to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three- headed dog cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake, which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. oh, how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause! i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would have cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to flee on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he hear? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment-hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies. at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within, a hydra with fifty heads, guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies, he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips, as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing today and another tomorrow. ixion was there fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them, winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill, others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, high-souled heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war-chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting, and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests, also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow- white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me. then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "oh, father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life, as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed, of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which, when united, took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus the more earth predominates in the composition, the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted, is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be entrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life, even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sybil then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. the egyptian name of hades was amenti. in the revision of the scriptures the revising commission has substituted the word hades where "hell" was used in the version of king james. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and described it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. james russell lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says, "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. . . . . . . "here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton alludes to the same fable in paradise lost, book iii., . . "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream. lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved by the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air, i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo, i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand-grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand-grains, i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves, the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who on great occasions consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. it is now believed that some of the most distinguished sibyls took the inspiration of their oracles from the jewish scripture. readers interested in this subject will consult, "judaism," by prof. f. huidekoper. young, in the night thoughts, alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. . . . . . as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxvi camilla evander nisus and euryalus mezentius turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet virgil, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies, one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having dispatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country!" he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned the fury alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then sped to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress' feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants, all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and, poising the weapon in his upraised hand, thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds, and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana, and repelled the thought of marriage. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says, "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th'unbendng corn or skims along the main." essay on criticism evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night, and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river, under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows, and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander the arcadian chief. he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all its tributary fountains to lend their aid. then, for the first time, a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessel shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward through the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were and what was their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive- branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amazement at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood they joined the king and his party, and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas looked and listened with delight, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves and covered with the skin of the libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet, and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body-guard. he round the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans' demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain then, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that their destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon, the etruscan leader, and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them in to the field. night coming on, the army of turnus in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety, and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be enough reward for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, they themselves were loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought he entreaties. but do thou, i beseech thee, comfort her in her distress. promise me that, and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth? or would it be better to die with him? raising his eyes to the moon which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew, and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward, exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians; i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolted subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him, with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up to the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers, and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the river-side, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last impelled by the ill success of his arms, and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at venus' request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus' fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the aeneid closes, but the story goes that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia as his bride. his son iulus founded the city of alba longa. he, and his descendants after him, reigned over the town for many years. at length numitor and amulius, two brothers, quarrelled about the kingdom. amulius seized the crown by force, cast out numitor, and made his daughter, rhea silvia, a vestal virgin. the vestal virgins, the priestesses of the goddess vesta, were sworn to celibacy. but rhea silvia broke her vow, and gave birth, by the god mars, to the twins, romulus and remus. for this offence she was buried alive, the usual punishment accorded to unfaithful vestals, while the children were exposed on the river tiber. romulus and remus, however, were rescued by a herdsman, and were educated among the shepherds in ignorance of their parentage. but chance revealed it to them. they collected a band of friends, and took revenge on their granduncle for the murder of their mother. afterwards they founded, by the side of the river tiber, where they had been exposed in infancy, the city of rome. chapter xxvii pythagoras. egyptian deities. oracles the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born, perhaps, about five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively and is said to have visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. but pythagoras left no writings which have been preserved. his immediate disciples were under a pledge of secrecy. though he is referred to by many writers, at times not far distant from his own, we have no biography of him written earlier than the end of the second century of our era. in the interval between his life and this time, every sort of fable collected around what was really known of his life and teaching. at crotona, where he finally established himself, it is said that his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom; uniting their property in one common stock, for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he (pythagoras) said so," (ipse dixit,) was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras is said to have considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad," or unit, he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole, because it had a beginning, middle, and end; four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the first three prime numbers ( + + = . one is not counted, as being rather the source of number than a number itself) comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed frm the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme; and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body, passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was first indian and egyptian, and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan was i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately, being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears at different times different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakespeare, in the merchant of venice, makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his song for st. cecilia's day: "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (as pythagoras taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakespeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "sit, jessica, look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in this motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." merchant of venice the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent, we look through them, and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his hymn to the nativity, thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears; (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow: and with your nine-fold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre, of which other fables give the invention to mercury. our own poet, longfellow, in verses to a child, thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, a nd formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's occultation of orion: "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem to the dandelion: "not in mild june the golden-cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent, (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders, and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood-cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his ode to napoleon bonaparte, alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the remarkable discovery by which champollion the younger (so called to distinguish him from his older brother, champollion figeac, who also studied the hieroglyphics)) first opened to modern times the secret of the egyptian hieroglyphics, has been followed up by laborious studies, which tell us more of egyptian worship and mythology, with more precision, than we know of any other ancient religion but that of the hebrews. we have even great numbers of copies of the liturgies, or handbooks of worship, of funeral solemnities, and other rituals, which have been diligently translated. and we have a sufficient body of the literature written and used by the priesthood. these discoveries give to writers of this generation a much fuller knowledge of the egyptian religion, of its forms, and of the names of its gods, than they had before. it is impossible, and probably always will be, to state with precision the theology on which it rested. it is impossible, because that theology was different in one time and with one school from what it was at other times. mr. s. birch, of the british museum, says, "the religion of the egyptians consisted of an extended polytheism represented by a system of local groups." but mr. pierret says, "the polytheism of the monuments is but an outward show. the innumerable gods of the pantheon are but manifestations of the one being in his various capacities. mariette bey says, "the one result is that according to the egyptians, the universe was god himself, and that pantheism formed the foundation of their religion." in this book it is not necessary to reconcile views so diverse, nor indeed to enter on studies so profound as those which should decide between them. for our purpose here it is enough to know that the sun was the older object of worship, and in his various forms rising, midday, or setting was adored under different names. frequently his being and these names were united to the types of other deities. mr. birch believes that the worship of osiris prevailed largely beside the worship of the sun, and is not to be confounded with it. to osiris, set, the egyptian devil, was opposed. the original god, the origin of all things, manifests himself to men, in lesser forms, according to this mythology, more and more human and less and less intangible. these forms are generally triads, and resolve themselves into a male deity, a female deity, and their child. triad after triad brings the original divinity into forms more and more earthly, till at last we find "that we have no longer to do with the infinite and intangible god of the earliest days, but rather with a god of flesh and blood, who lives upon earth, and has so abased himself as to be no more than a human king. it is no longer the god of whom no man knew either the form or the substance: it is kneph at esneh, hathor at durderah, horus, king of the divine dynasty at edfoo." these words are m. maspero's. the greek and latin poets and philosophers, as they made some very slight acquaintance with egyptian worship, give greek or latin names to the divinities worshipped. thus we sometimes hear osiris spoken of as the egyptian hermes. but such changes of names are confusing, and are at best but fanciful (in the same way plutarch, a greek writer, says of the jews' feast of tabernacles, "i know that their god is our bacchus." this was merely from the vines, vine leaves and wine used in the ceremonies.) it would happen sometimes, in later times, that a fashion of religion would carry the worship of one god or goddess to a distance. thus the worship of isis became fashionable in rome in the time of nero and paul, as readers of bulwer's last days of pompeii will remember. the latest modern literature occasionally uses the egyptian names, as the last two centuries have disinterred them from the inscriptions on the monuments, and from the manuscripts in the tombs. earlier english writers generally use the names like osiris, anubis, and others found in latin and greek writers. the following statement as to these deities and their names is from mr. birch: "the deities of ancient egypt consist of celestial, terrestrial, and infernal gods, and of many inferior personages, either representatives of the greater gods or attendants on them. most of the gods were connected with the sun, and represented that luminary through the upper hemisphere or heaven and the lower hemisphere or hades. to the deities of the solar cycle belonged the great gods of thebes and heliopolis. in the local worship of egypt the deities were arranged in local triads; thus at memphis, ptah, his wife merienptah, and their son nefer atum, formed a triad, to which was sometimes added the goddess bast or bubastis. at abydos the local triad was osiris, isis, and horus, with nephthys; at thebes, amen ra or ammon, mut and chons, with neith; at elephantine, kneph, anuka, sati, and hak. in most instances the names of the gods are egyptian; thus, ptah meant 'the opener'; amen, 'the concealed'; ra, 'the sun or day'; athor, 'the house of horus';' but some few, especially of later times, were introduced from semitic sources, as bal or baal, astaruta or astarte, khen or kiun, respu or reseph. besides the principal gods, several inferior or parhedral gods, sometimes personifications of the faculties, senses, and other objects, are introduced into the religious system, and genii, spirits or personified souls of deities formed part of the same. at a period subsequent to their first introduction the gods were divided into three orders. the first or highest comprised eight deities, who were different in the memphian and theban systems. they were supposed to have reigned over egypt before the time of mortals. the eight gods of the first order at memphis were . ptah; . shu; . tefnu; . seb; . nut; . osiris; . isis and horus; . athor. those of thebes were . amen ra; . mentu; . atum; . shu and tefnu; . seb; . osiris; . set and nepthys; . horus and athor. the gods of the second order were twelve in number, but the name of one only, an egyptian hercules, has been preserved. the third order is stated to have comprised osiris, who, it will be seen, belonged to the first order." guide to the first and second egyptian rooms, british museum. s. birch miss edwards gives the following convenient register of the names most familiar among the egyptian gods (in her very interesting book, "a thousand miles up the nile"). phtah or ptah: in form a mummy, holding the emblem called by some the nilometer, by others the emblem of stability, called "the father of the beginning, the creator of the egg of the sun and moon," chief deity of memphis. kneph, knoum or knouphis: ram-headed, called the maker of gods and men, the soul of the gods. chief deity of elephantine and the cataracts. ra: hawk-headed, and crowned with the sun-disc, encircled by an asp. the divine disposer and organizer of the world; adored throughout egypt. amen ra: of human form, crowned with a flat-topped cap and two long, straight plumes; clothed in the schenti; his flesh sometimes painted blue. there are various forms of this god (there were almost as many varieties of ammon in egypt as there are varieties of the madonna in italy or spain), but he is most generally described as king of the gods, chief deity of thebes. khem: of human form, mummified; wears head-dress of amen ra; his right hand uplifted, holding a flail. the god of productiveness and generation. chief deity of khemmis, or ekhmeem. osiris: of human form, mummified, crowned with a mitre, and holding the flail and crook. called the good; the lord above all; the one lord. was the god of the lower world; judge of the dead; and representative of the sun below the horizon. adored through egypt. local deity of abydos. nefer atum: human-headed, and crowned with the pschent. this god represented the nocturnal sun, or the sun lighting the lower world. local deity of heliopolis. thoth: in form a man, ibis-headed, generally depicted with the pen and palette of a scribe. was the god of the moon, and of letters. local deity of sesoon, or hermopolit. seb: the "father of the gods," and deity of terrestrial vegetation. in form like a man with a goose upon his head. set: represented by a symbolic animal, with a muzzle and ears like a jackal, the body of an ass, and an upright tail, like the tail of a lion. was originally a warlike god, and became in later times the symbol of evil and the enemy of osiris. khons: hawk-headed, crowned with the sun-disc and horns. is sometimes represented as a youth with the side-lock, standing on a crocodile. horus: horus appears variously as horus, horus aroeris, and horus harpakhrat (hippocrates), or horus the child. is represented under the first two forms as a man, hawk-headed, wearing the double crown of egypt; in the latter as a child with the side- lock. local deity of edfoo (apollinopolis magna). maut: a woman draped, and crowned with the pschent (the pschent was a double crown, worn by the king at his coronation), representing a vulture. adored at thebes. neith: a woman draped, holding sometimes a bow and arrows, crowned with the crown of lower egypt. she presided over war, and the loom. worshipped at thebes. isis: a woman crowned with the sun-disc surmounted by a throne, and sometimes enclosed between horns. adored at abydos. her soul resided in sothis on the dog-star. nut: a woman so bent that her hands touched the earth. she represents the vault of heaven, and is the mother of the gods. hathor: cow-headed, and crowned with the disc and plumes. deity of amenti, or the egyptian hades. worshipped at denderah. pasht: pasht and bast appear to be two forms of the same goddess. as bast she is represented as a woman, lion-headed, with the disc and uroeus; as pasht she is cat-headed, and holds a sistrum. adored at bubastis. observe the syllable bast. the highest visible deity of the egyptians was amun ra, or amen ra, the concealed sun; the word ra signifying the sun. this name appears in the greek and latin writers as zeus ammon and jupiter ammon. when amun manifests himself by his word, will or spirit, he is known as nu, num, noub, nef, neph, or kneph, and this word kneph through the form cnuphis is, perhaps, the anubis of the greek and latin authors. that word has not been found earlier than the time of augustus. anubis was then worshipped as the guardian god, and represented with a dog's head. the soul of osiris was supposed to exist in some way in the sacred bull apis, of which serapis or sarapis is probably another name. "apis," says herodotus, "is a young bull, whose hair is black, on his forehead a white triangle, -- on his back an eagle, with a beetle under his tongue and with the hair of his tail double." ovid says he is of various colors. plutarch says he has a crescent on his right side. these superstitions varied from age to age. apis was worshipped in memphis. it must be observed, in general, that the names in the latin classics belong to a much later period of the egyptian religion than the names found on most of the monuments. it will be found, that, as in the change from nu to anubis, it is difficult to trace the progress of a name from one to the other. in the cases where an ox, a ram, or a dog is worshipped with, or as a symbol of, a god, we probably have the survival of a very early local idolatry. horus or harpocrates, named above, was the son of osiris. he is sometimes represented, seated on a lotus-flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's irish melodies is an allusion to harpocrates: - "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip: like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits over thus, his only song to earth and heaven, "hush, all, hush!" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon (typhon is supposed to be the seth of the monuments) saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought, during his absence, to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree, with its sacred deposit, was shortly afterward felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length, by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as the goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand, she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces, scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philoe, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found, minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. as soon as a bull marked with the marks which have been described, was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon with great pomp, to his habitation, and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was however one drawback to his happy lot; he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period; and if when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern, and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. a new apis was found as late as the reign of hadrian. a mummy made from one of the sacred bulls may be seen in the egyptian collection of the historical society, new york. milton, in his hymn of the nativity, alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons put to flight by the coming of christ: "the brutish gods of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered* grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." *(there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.) isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in maud, v. "for the drift of te maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil." oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account it was established in the following manner. two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations, to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architechts, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means from time to time purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth, continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonius unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no oracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, but walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and dejected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low-spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovry of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us, that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him, by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts this view in his hymn of the nativity, and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour. "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos leaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell." in cowper's poem of yardley oak there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says, "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; two lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeeded and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou was such? oh, couldst thou speak as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson in his talking oak alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: "and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke." byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says, "for then he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxviii origin of mythology statues of gods and goddesses poets of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, an inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth, or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject of which we shall give three or four. . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his history of the world, says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven. there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called kronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." il penseroso . the astronomical theory supposes that the different stories are corrupted versions of astronomical statements, of which the true meaning was forgotten. this theory is pushed to its extreme by dupuis, in his treatise "sur tous les cultes." . the physical theory, according to which the elements of air, fire, and water, were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his excursion, has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology. "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, a wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, the simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have bene mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have risen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods adequately to represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities, was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, and by copies on gems, which are still preserved; the other two still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on this throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the iliad, in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, a nd all olympus to the centre shook." (cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original. "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope. "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod.") the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minera at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon in which this statue stood was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles now in the british museum are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task, the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his summer. "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there too the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." this last allusion is explained in chapter xx. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome, in which it is placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python (see chapter ii). the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm which seems to have held the bow is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where, on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the venus of melos of the venus of melos, perhaps the most famous of our statues of mythology, very little is known. there are many indeed who believe that it is not a statue of venus at all. it was found in the year in the island of melos by a peasant, who sold it to the french consul at the place. the statue was standing in the theatre, which had been filled up with rubbish in the course of centuries, and when discovered was broken in several places, and some of the pieces were gone. these missing pieces, notably the two arms, have been restored in various ways by modern artists. as has been said above, there is a controversy as to whether the statue represents venus or some other goddess. much has been written on each side, but the question still remains unsettled. the general opinion of those who contend that it is not venus is that it is a statue or nike or victory. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the iliad and odyssey we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says, "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." an older version is, "seven cities warred for homer being dead, who living had no roof to shroud his head." these lines are by thomas heywood; the others are ascribed to thomas seward. these seven cities were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials, capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c., but a range of two or three centuries must be given for the various conjectures of critics. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the aeneid we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor, augustus, so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of paradise lost, from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: on milton "three poets in three different ages born. greece, italy, and england did adorn. the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's table talk: "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the tristia and letters from pontus) have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his metamorphoses and his fasti. they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master-hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the metamorphoses are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the metamorphoses, of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, a nd snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure for evermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread, there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxix modern monsters: the phoenix basilisk unicorn salamander there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients, as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm-tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre) and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ), the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged and able to trust to his wings is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his vulgar errors, published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden, in one of his early poems, has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in paradise lost, book v, compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror, which was immediately followed by death. in shakespeare's play of richard the third, lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him. it was formally believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man going to a fountain in the desert suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity, laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort, took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy," and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still he may be interested to know that these details come from the work of one who was considered in his time an able and valuable writer on natural history. ulysses aldrovandus was a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, and his work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull, that from his practice all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. still he is to be remembered with respect as the founder of a botanic garden, and one of the leaders in the modern habit of making scientific collections for research and inquiry. shelley, in his ode to naples, full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been, devoured by their own bounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze, for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as moveable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword in short, with which ho hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal, is as near an impossibility as any thing can be. the salamander the following is from the life of benvenuto cellini, an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself, "when i was about five years of age, my father happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame, charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element, is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skins of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which, when he is irritated, is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one, the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the night thoughts, with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens, to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! * * * * * * oh, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxx eastern mythology zoroaster hindu mythology castes buddha grand lama during the last fifty years new attention has been paid to the systems of religion of the eastern world, especially to that of zoroaster among the persians, and that which is called brahmanism and the rival system known as buddhism in the nations farther east. especial interest belongs to these inquiries for us, because these religions are religions of the great aryan race to which we belong. the people among whom they were introduced all used some dialect of the family of language to which our own belongs. even young readers will take an interest in such books as clarke's great religions and johnson's oriental religions, which are devoted to careful studies of them. our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendancy. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings, and imparted to them so much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man, and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun, as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. "as to the age of the books of the zendavesta, and the period at which zoroaster lived, there is the greatest difference of opinion. he is mentioned by plato, who speaks of 'the magic (or religious doctrines) of zoroaster the ormazdian.' as plato speaks of his religion as something established in the form of magism, or the system of the medes in west iran, which the avesta appears to have originated in bactria, or east iran, this already carries the age of zoroaster back to at least the sixth or seventh century before christ. * * * * * * * * * * * * "professor whitney of new haven places the epoch of zoroaster at 'least b.c. ,' and adds that all attempts to reconstruct persian chronology or history prior to the reign of the first sassanid have been relinquished as futile. dollinger thinks he may have been 'somewhat later than moses, perhaps about b.c. ,' but says 'it is impossible to fix precisely' when he lived. rawlinson merely remarks that berosus places him anterior to b.c. . haug is inclined to date the gathas, the oldest songs of the avesta, as early as the time of moses. rapp, after a thorough comparison of ancient writers, concludes that zoroaster lived b.c. or . in this he agrees with duncker, who, as we have seen, decided upon the same date. it is not far from the period given by the oldest greek writer who speaks of zoroaster, xanthus of sardis, a contemporary of darius. it is the period given by cephalion, a writer of the second century, who takes it from three independent sources. we have no sources now open to us which enable us to come nearer than this to the time in which he lived. "nor is anything known with certainty of the place where he lived, or the events of his life. most modern writers suppose that he resided in bactria. haug maintains that the language of the zend books is bactrian. a highly mythological and fabulous life of zoroaster, translated by anquetil du perron, called the zartrisht-namah, describes him as going to iran in his thirtieth year, spending twenty years in the desert, working miracles during ten years, and giving lessons of philosophy in babylon, with pythagoras as his pupil. all this is based on the theory (now proved to be false) of his living in the time of darius. 'the language of the avesta,' says max muller, 'is so much more primitive than the inscriptions of darius, that many centuries must have passed between the two periods represented by these two strata of language. these inscriptions are in the achaemenian dialect, which is the zend in a later stage of linguistic growth.;" j. freeman clarke - ten great religions wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "the persian, zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands, the loftiest heights ascending from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." excursion, book iv in childe harold, byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not gainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth o'ergazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's lalla rookh, the fire worshippers. the gueber chief says: "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that moan and even hail their creator's dwelling place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to lean and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which, under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva, form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are, . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yana, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort. the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. "brahma, at first a word meaning prayer and devotion, becomes in the laws of manu the primal god, first-born of the creation, from the self-existent being, in the form of a golden egg. he became the creator of all things by the power of prayer. in the struggle for ascendancy, which took place between the priests and the warriors, brahma naturally became the deity of the former. but, meantime, as we have seen, the worship or vishnu had been extending itself in one region, and that of siva in another. then took place those mysterious wars between the kings of the solar and lunar races, of which the great epics contain all that we know. and at the close of these wars a compromise was apparently accepted, by which brahma, vishnu, and siva were united in one supreme god, as creator, preserver, and destroyer, all in one. it is almost certain that this hindoo triad was the result of an ingenious and successful attempt, on the part of the brahmans, to unite all classes of worshippers in india against the buddhists. in this sense the brahmans edited anew the mahabharata, inserting in that epic passages extolling vishnu in the form of krishna. the greek accounts of india which followed the invasion of alexander speak of the worship of hercules as prevalent in the east, and by hercules they apparently mean the god krishna. the struggle between the brahmans and buddhists lasted during nine centuries (from a.d. to a.d. ), ending with the total expulsion of buddhism and the triumphant establishment of the triad as the worship of india. "before this triad or trimurti (of brahma, vishnu, and siva) there seems to have been another, consisting of agni, indra, and surya. this may have given the hint of the second triad, which distributed among the three gods the attributes or creation, destruction, and renovation. of these brahma, the creator, ceased soon to be popular, and the worship of siva and vishnu as krishna remain as the popular religion of india. . . .. "but all the efforts of brahmanism could not arrest the natural development of the system. it passed on into polytheism and idolatry. the worship of india for many centuries has been divided into a multitude of sects. while the majority of the brahmans still profess to recognize the equal divinity of brahma, vishnu, and siva, the mass of the people worship krishna, rama, the singam, and many other gods and idols. there are hindoo atheists, who revile the vedas; there are the kabirs, who are a sort of hindoo quakers, and oppose all worship; the ramanujas, an ancient sect of vishnu worshippers; the ramavats, living in monasteries; the panthis, who oppose all austerities; the maharajas, whose religion consists with great licentiousness. most of these are worshippers of vishnu or of siva, for brahma- worship has wholly disappeared." j. freeman clarke. ten great religions. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third named, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; as that power is not to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles southwest of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes. at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not he maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean every thing they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws, regulating their mode of life, their houses and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to eat all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restrictions. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head, as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. the young prince distinguished himself by his personal and intellectual qualities, but still more by his early piety. it appears from the laws of manu that it was not unusual, in the earliest periods of brahmanism, for those seeking a superior piety to turn hermits, and to live alone in the forest, engaged in acts of prayer, meditation, abstinence, and the study of the vedas. this practice, however, seems to have been confined to the brahmans. it was, therefore, a grief to the king, when his son, in the flower of his youth and highly accomplished in every kingly faculty of body and mind, began to turn his thoughts toward the life of an anchorite. * * * * * * * * * * * * he first visited the brahmans, and listened to their doctrines, but found no satisfaction therein. the wisest among them could not teach him true peace, that profound inward rest, which was already called nirvana. he was twenty-nine years old. although disapproving of the brahmanic austerities as an end, he practised them during six years, in order to subdue the senses. he then became satisfied that the path to perfection did not lie that way. he therefore resumed his former diet and a more comfortable mode of life, and so lost many disciples who had been attracted by his amazing austerity. alone in his hermitage, he came at last to that solid conviction, that knowledge never to be shaken, of the laws of things, which had seemed to him the only foundation of a truly free life. the spot where, after a week of constant meditation, he at last arrived at this beatific vision, became one of the most sacred places in india. he was seated under a tree, his face to the east, not having moved for a day and night, when he attained the triple science, which was to rescue mankind from its woes. twelve hundred years after the death of the buddha, a chinese pilgrim was shown what then passed for the sacred tree. * * * * * * * * * * * * having attained this inward certainty of vision, he decided to teach the world his truth. he knew well what it would bring him, what opposition, insult, neglect, scorn. but he thought of three classes of men: those who were already on the way to the truth and did not need him; those who were fixed in error and whom he could not help; and the poor doubters, uncertain of their way. it was to help these last, the doubters, that the buddha went forth to preach. on his way to the holy city of india, benares, a serious difficulty arrested him at the ganges, namely, his having no money to pay the boatman for his passage. at benares he made his first converts, "turning the wheel of the law" for the first time. his discourses are contained in the sacred books of the buddhists. he converted great numbers, his father among the rest, but met with fierce opposition from the hindu scribes and pharisees, the leading brahmans. so he lived and taught, and died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and, among other things, it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the charming poem called the light of asia, by mr. edwin arnold, has lately called general attention to buddhism. the following is an extract from it: "fondly siddatha drew the proud head down patted the shining neck, and said 'be still, white kantaka! be still, and bear me now the farthest journey ever rider rode; for this night take i horse to find the truth, and where my quest will end yet know i not. save that it shall not end until i find. therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold! let nothing stay thee, though a thousand blades deny the road! let neither wall nor moat forbid our flight! look! if i touch thy flank and cry, "on, kantaka!" let whirlwinds lag behind thy course! be fire and air, my horse! to stead thy lord, so shalt thou share with him the greatness of this deed which helps the world; for therefore ride i, not for men alone, but for all things which, speechless, share our pain, and have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. now, therefore, hear thy master valorously!'" the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descend to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity, he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also, processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorial christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff, resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorial christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in paradise lost, book xi, where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says, "---- nor did his eyes not ken the empire of negus, to his utmost port ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxi northern mythology valhalla the valkyrior the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern, or prose edda, being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating above another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon, and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash-tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an alder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash-tree ygdrasil was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder, nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge, bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri, and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt wodin, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrun. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal-time comes, they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrior the valkyrior are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets, shields, and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla, to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrior are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand their armor shed a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." (gray's ode, the fatal sisters, is founded on this superstition.) the following is by matthew arnold: "----he crew at dawn a cheerful note, to wake the gods and heroes to their tasks and all the gods and all the heroes woke. and from their beds the heroes rose and donned their arms, and led their horses from the stall, and mounted them, and in valhalla's court were ranged; and then the daily fray began, and all day long they there are hacked and hewn 'mid dust and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood; but all at night return to odin's hall woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in heaven. and the valkyries on their steeds went forth toward earth and fights of men; and at their side skulda, the youngest of the nornies, rode; and over bifrost, where is heimdall's watch, past midgard fortress, down to earth they came; there through some battle-field, where men fall fast, their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride, and pick the bravest warriors out for death, whom they bring back with them at night to heaven, to glad the gods, and feast in odin's hall." balder dead this description of the funeral of balder is by william morris: "----guest gazed through the cool dusk, till his eyes did rest upon the noble stories, painted fair on the high panelling and roof-boards there; for over the high sea, in his ship, there lay the gold-haired balder, god of the dead day, the spring-flowers round his high pile, waiting there until the gods there to the torch should bear; and they were wrought on this side and on that, drawing on towards him. there was frey, and sat on the gold-bristled boar, who first they say ploughed the brown earth, and made it green for frey; then came dark-bearded niod; and after him freyia, thin-robed, about her ankles slim the grey cats playing. in another place thor's hammer gleamed o'er thor's red-bearded face; and heimdal, with the old horn slung behind, that in the god's dusk he shall surely wind, sickening all hearts with fear; and last of all, was odin's sorrow wrought upon the wall. as slow-paced, weary faced, he went along, anxious with all the tales of woe and wrong his ravens, thought and memory, bring to him." the earthly paradise: the lovers of godrun thor of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is his hammer, miolnir, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. this description of thor is by longfellow: "i am the god thor, i am the war god, i am the thunderer! here in my northland, my fastness and fortress, reign i forever! "here amid icebergs rule i the nations; this is my hammer, miolner the mighty; giants and sorcerers cannot withstand it! "these are the gauntlets wherewith i wield it, and hurl it afar off; this is my girdle; whenever i brace it strength is redoubled! "the light thou beholdest stream through the heavens, in flashes of crimson, is but my red beard blown by the night wind, affrighting the nations! "jove is my brother; mine eyes are the lightning; the wheels of my chariot roll in the thunder, the blows of my hammer ring in the thunder." tales of a wayside inn frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love-ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow.) he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles all around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death). the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster has grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidnia. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning-anguish forms the hangings of her apartments. she may easily be recognized for her body is half flesh-color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., th noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. but tyr (the sword god), to quiet his suspicions, placed his hand in fenris' mouth. then the other gods bound the wolf with gleipnir. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one half more of the toilsome work than his mater. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building- stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmon and a full-grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler or jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright, and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon and slaughtered thrum and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed, "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled skirnir for, and the one immediately preceding it, thrym's quida, will be found poetically told in longfellow's poets and poetry of europe. chapter xxxii thor's visit to jotunheim one day the god thor, accompanied by his servant thialfi, and also by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor rising up called on his companion to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god tor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk, skrymir close a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak-tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper."skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly, but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir awakening merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest re-echoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir awakening cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he however resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek, said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? methinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders, and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much outstripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting-place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard- loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor," said utgard-loki, "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cupbearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length, after a very violent struggle, thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with the mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous, that had i not seen it myself, i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou was not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror- stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee, that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. on another occasion thor was more successful in an encounter with the giants. it happened that thor met with a giant, hrungnir by name, who was disputing with odin as to the merits of their respective horses, gullfaxi and sleipnir, the eight-legged. thor and the giant made an agreement to fight together on a certain day. but as the day approached, the giant, becoming frightened at the thought of encountering thor alone, manufactured, with the assistance of his fellow-giants, a great giant of clay. he was nine miles high and three miles about the chest, and in his heart he had the heart of a mare. accompanied by the clay giant, hrungnir awaited thor on the appointed day. thor approached preceded by thialfi, his servant, who, running ahead, shouted out to hrungnir that it was useless to hold his shield before him, for the god thor would attack him out of the ground. hrungnir at this flung his shield on the ground, and, standing upon it, made ready. as thor approached hrungnir flung at him an immense club of stone. thor flung his hammer. miolnir met the club half way, broke it in pieces, and burying itself in the stone skull of hrungnir, felled him to the ground. meanwhile thialfi had despatched the clay giant with a spade. thor himself received but a slight wound from a fragment of the giant's hammer. chapter xxxiii the death of baldur the elves -- runic letters -- scalds -- iceland baldur, the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning, "up rose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed." but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes, for do what they would none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the mansion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them. " "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have moreover nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs, and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death." hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg every thing to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. (in longfellow's poems, vol. , page , will be found a poem entitled tegner's drapa, upon the subject of baldur's death.) among matthew arnold's poems is one called "balder death" beginning thus: "so on the floor lay balder dead; and round lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts and spears, which all the gods in sport had idly thrown at balder, whom no weapon pierced or clave; but in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough of mistletoe, which lok the accuser gave to hoder, and unwitting hoder threw; "gainst that alone had balder's life no charm. and all the gods and all the heroes came and stood round balder on the bloody floor weeping and wailing; and valhalla rang up to its golden roof with sobs and cries; and on the table stood the untasted meats, and in the horns and gold-rimmed skulls the wine; and now would night have fallen and found them yet wailing; but otherwise was odin's will." the funeral of baldur the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the sea-shore where stood baldur's ship hringham, which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile with her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrior, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding-place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it so, that salmons every since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black of night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots, produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship skidbladnir, which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skilfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnabok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battle-field called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed dreyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth, filled with abundant supplies, will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden, without meeting with great stones, of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the descent of odin contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on heroes and hero worship gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology. "in that strange island, iceland, burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls (mountains), roaring geysers (boiling springs), sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the vast, chaotic battle-field of frost and fire, where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials, the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" chapter xxxiv the druids iona the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be'al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings,:" and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size) enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the boat song in the lady of the lake: "ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade." the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on hallow-eve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it. they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious." the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands , and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists." pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards, in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the bard. there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. heman's poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "---- midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the main-land, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter, and continued their now-dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and main-land until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a ragged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. iona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the main-land of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba, with twelve friends landed on the island of iona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on iona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body, of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery, and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei" worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience, the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary, they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near iona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of reullura, alludes to the married monks of iona: "----the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in iona preached the word with power. and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his irish melodies, moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "oh, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod. in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced, that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth century that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papa usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. ionia, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the supervision of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. ionia is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church, and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of iona." in the lord of the isles, scott beautifully contrasts the church on iona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells the mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay, thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard but witness mine." sketch of the history of greek sculpture we have seen throughout the course of this book how the greek and norse myths have furnished material for the poets, not only of greece and scandinavia, but also of modern times. in the same way these stories have been found capable of artistic treatment by painters, sculptors, and even by musicians. the story of cupid and psyche has not only been retold by poets from apuleius to william morris, but also drawn out in a series of frescoes by raphael, and sculptured in marble by canova. even to enumerate the works of art of the modern and ancient world which depend for their subject-matter upon mythology would be a task for a book by itself. as we have been able to give only a few illustrations of the poetic treatment of some of the principal myths, so we shall have to content ourselves with a similarly limited view of the part played by them in other fields of art. of the statues made by the ancients themselves to represent their greater deities, a few have been already commented on. but it must not be thought that these splendid examples of plastic art, the olympian jupiter and the athene of the parthenon, represent the earliest attempts of the greeks to give form to their myths in sculpture. our most primitive sources of knowledge of much of greek mythology are the homeric poems, where the stories of achilles and ulysses have already taken on a poetic form, almost the highest conceivable. but in the other arts, greek genius lagged behind. at the time when the homeric poems were written, we find no traces of columned temples or magnificent statues. scarcely were the domestic arts sufficiently advanced to allow the poet to describe dwellings glorious enough for his heroes to live in, or articles of common utility fit for their use. of the two most famous works of art mentioned in the iliad we must think of the statue of athene at troy (the palladium) as a rude carving perhaps of wood, the arms of the goddess separated from the body only enough to allow her to hold the lance and spindle, which were the signs of her divinity. the splendor of the shield of achilles must be attributed largely to the rich imagination of the poet. other works of art of this primitive age we know from descriptions in later classical writers. they attributed the rude statues which had come down to them to daedalus and his pupils, and beheld them with wonder at their uncouth ugliness. it was long thought that these beginnings of greek sculpture were to be traced to egypt, but now-a-days scholars are inclined to take a different view. egyptian sculpture was closely allied to architecture; the statues were frequently used for the columns of temples. thus sculpture was subordinated to purely mechanical principles, and human figures were represented altogether in accordance with established conventions. greek sculpture, on the contrary, even in its primitive forms was eminently natural, capable of developing a high degree of realism. from the first it was decorative in character, and this left the artist free to execute in his own way, provided only that the result should be in accordance with the highest type of beauty which he could conceive. an example of this early decorative art was the chest of kypselos, on which stories from homer were depicted in successive bands, the reliefs being partly inlaid with gold and ivory. from the sixth century before christ date three processes of great importance in the development of sculpture; the art of casting in bronze, the chiselling of marble, and the inlaying of gold and ivory on wood (chryselephantine work). as early greek literature developed first among the island greeks, so the invention of these three methods of art must br attributed to the colonists away from the original hellas. to the samians is probably due the invention of bronze casting, to the chians the beginning of sculpture in marble. this latter development opened to greek sculpture its great future. marble work was carried on by a race of artists beginning with melas in the seventh century and coming down to boupalos and athenis, the sons of achermos, whose works survived to the time of augustus. chryselephantine sculpture began in crete. among the earliest of the greek sculptors whose names have come down to us was canachos, the sicyonian. his masterpiece was the apollo philesios, in bronze, made for the temple of didymas. the statue no longer exists, but there are a number of ancient monuments which may be taken as fairly close copies of it, or at least as strongly suggestive of the style of canachos, among which are the payne-knight apollo at the british museum, and the piombino apollo at the louvre. in this latter statue the god stands erect with the left foot slightly advanced, and the hands outstretched. the socket of the eye is hollow and was probably filled with some bright substance. canachos was undoubtedly an innovator, and in the stronger modelling of the head and neck, the more vigorous posture of the body of his statue, he shows an advance on the more conventional and limited art of his generation. as greek sculpture progressed, schools of artists arose in various cities, dependent usually for their fame on the ability of some individual sculptor. "among these schools, those of aegina and athens are the most important. of the former school the works of onatus are by far the most notable. onatus was a contemporary of canachos, and reached the height of his fame in the middle of the fifth century before christ. his most famous work was the scene where the greek heroes draw lots for an opponent to hector. it is not certain whether onatus sculptured the groups which adorned the pediments of the temple of athena at aegina, groups now in the glyptothek at munich, but certainly these famous statues are decidedly in his style. both pediments represent the battle over the body of patroclus. the east pediment shows the struggle between heracles and laomedon. in each group a fallen warrior lies at the feet of the goddess, over whom she extends her protection. the aeginetan marbles show the traces of dying archaism. the figures of the warriors are strongly moulded, muscular, but without grace. the same type is reproduced again and again among them. even the wounded scarcely depart from it. the statues of the eastern pediment are probably later in date than those of the western, and in the former the dying warrior exhibits actual weakness and pain. in the western pediment the statue of the goddess is thoroughly archaic, stiff, uncompromisingly harsh, the features frozen into a conventional smile. in the eastern group the goddess, though still ungraceful, is more distinctly in action, and seems about to take part in the struggle. the heracles of the eastern pediment, a warrior supported on one knee and drawing his bow, is, for the time, wonderfully vivid and strong. all of these statues are evidence of the rapid progress which greek sculpture was making in the fifth century against the demands of hieratic conventionality. the contemporary athenian school boasted the names of hegias, critios, and nesiotes. their works have all perished, but a copy of one of the most famous works of critios and nesiotes, the statue of the tyrannicides, is to be found in the museum of naples. harmodius and aristogeiton killed, in b.c., the tyrant-ruler of athens, hipparchus. in consequence of this athens soon became a republic, and the names of the first rebels were held in great honor. their statues were set up on the acropolis, first a group by antenor, then the group in question by critios and nesiotes after the first had been carried away by xerxes. the heroes, as we learn from the copies in naples, were represented as rushing forward, one with a naked sword flashing above his head, the other with a mantle for defence thrown over his left arm. they differ in every detail of action and pose, yet they exemplify the same emotion, a common impulse to perform the same deed. at argus, contemporary with these early schools of athens and aegina, was a school of artists depending on the fame of the great sculptor ageladas. he was distinguished for his statues in bronze of zeus and heracles, but his great distinction is not through works of his own, but is due to the fact that he was the teacher of myron, polycleitos, and pheidias. these names with those of pythagoras and calamis bring us to the glorious flowering time of greek sculpture. calamis, somewhat older than the others, was an athenian, at least by residence. he carried on the measure of perfection which athenian sculpture had already attained, and added grace and charm to the already powerful model which earlier workers had left him. none of his works survive, but from notices of critics we know that he excelled especially in modelling horses and other animals. his two race-horses in memory of the victory of hiero of syracuse at olympia in were considered unsurpassable. however, it is related that praxiteles removed the charioteer from one of the groups of calamis and replaced it by one of his own statues "that the men of calamis might not be inferior to his horses." thus it would appear that calamis was less successful in dealing with the human body, though a statue of aphrodite from his hand was proverbial, under the name sosandra, for its grace and grave beauty. pythagoras of rhegium carried on the realism, truth to nature, which was beginning to appear as an ideal of artistic representation. he is said to have been the first sculptor to mark the veins and sinews on the body. in this vivid naturalness pythagoras was himself far surpassed by myron. pythagoras had seen the importance of showing the effect of action in every portion of the body. myron carried the minuteness of representation so far that his statue of ladas, the runner, was spoken of not as a runner, but as a breather. this statue represented the victor of the foot-race falling, overstrained and dying, at the goal, the last breath from the tired lungs yet hovering upon the lips. more famous than the ladas is the discobolos , or disc-thrower, of which copies exist at rome, one being at the vatican, the other at the palazzo massimi alle colonne. these, though doubtless far behind the original, serve to show the marvellous power of portraying intense action which the sculptor possessed. the athlete is represented at the precise instant when he has brought the greatest possible bodily strength into play in order to give to the disc its highest force. the body is bent forward, the toes of one foot cling to the ground, the muscles of the torso are strained, the whole body is in an attitude of violent tension which can endure only for an instant. yet the face is free from contortion, free from any trace of effort, calm and beautiful. this shows that myron, intent as he was upon reproducing nature, could yet depart from his realistic formulae when the requirements of beautiful art demanded it. the same delight in rapid momentary action which characterized the two statues of myron already mentioned appears in a third, the statue of marsyas astonished at the flute which athene had thrown away, and which was to lead its finder into his fatal contest with apollo. a copy of this work at the lateran museum represents the satyr starting back in a rapid mingling of desire and fear, which is stamped on his heavy face, as well as indicated in the movement of his body. myron's realism again found expression in the bronze cow, celebrated by the epigrams of contemporary poets for its striking naturalness. "shepherd, pasture thy flock at a little distance, lest thinking thou seest the cow of myron breathe, thou shouldst wish to lead it away with thine oxen," was one of them. the value and originality of myron's contributions to the progress of greek sculpture were so great that he left behind him a considerable number of artists devoted to his methods. his son lykios followed his father closely. in statues on the acropolis representing two boys, one bearing a basin, one blowing the coals in a censer into a flame, he reminds one of the ladas, especially in the second, where the action of breathing is exemplified in every movement of the body. another famous work by a follower of myron was the boy plucking a thorn from his foot, a copy of which is in the rothschild collection. the frieze of the temple of apollo at phigales has also been attributed to the school of myron. the remnants of this frieze, now in the british museum, show the battle of the centaurs and amazons. the figures have not the calm stateliness of bearing which characterizes those of the parthenon frieze, but instead exhibit a wild vehemence of action which is, perhaps, directly due to the influence of myron. another pupil of ageladas, a somewhat younger contemporary of pheidias, was polycleitos. he excelled in representations of human, bodily beauty. perfection of form was his aim, and so nearly did he seem to the ancients to have attained this object that his doryphoros was taken by them as a model of the human figure. a copy of this statue exists in the museum of naples and represents a youth in the attitude of bearing a lance, quiet and reserved. the figure is rather heavily built, firm, powerful, and yet graceful, though hardly light enough to justify the praise of perfection which has been lavished upon it. a companion statue to the doryphorus of polycleitos was his statue of the diadumenos, or boy binding his head with a fillet. a supposed copy of this exists in the british museum. it presents the same general characteristics as the doryphorus, a well-modelled but thick-set figure standing in an attitude of repose. what polycleitos did for the male form in these two statues he did for the female form in his amazon, which, according to a doubtful story, was adjudged in competition superior to a work by pheidias. a statue supposed to be a copy of this masterpiece of polycleitos is now in the berlin museum. it represents a woman standing in a graceful attitude beside a pillar, her left arm thrown above her head to free her wounded breast. the sculptor has succeeded admirably in catching the muscular force and firm hard flesh beneath the graceful curves of the woman warrior. polycleitos won his chief successes in portraying human figures. his statues of divinities are not numerous: a zeus at argos, an aphrodite at amyclae, and, more famous than either, the chryselephantine hera for a temple between argos and mycenae. the goddess was represented as seated on a throne of gold, with bare head and arms. in her right hand was the sceptre crowned with the cuckoo, symbol of conjugal fidelity; in her left, the pomegranate. there exists no certain copy of the hera of polycleitos. the head of hera in naples may, perhaps, give us some idea of the type of divine beauty preferred by the sculptor who was preeminent for his devotion to human beauty. polycleitos was much praised by the romans quintilian and cicero, who nevertheless, held that though he surpassed the beauty of man in nature, yet he did not approach the beauty of the gods. it was reserved for pheidias to portray the highest conceptions of divinity of which the greek mind was capable in his statues of athene in the parthenon at athens, and the zeus of olympus. pheidias lived in the golden age of athenian art. the victory of greece against persia had been due in large measure to athens, and the results of the political success fell largely to her. it is true the persians had held the ground of athens for weeks, and when, after the victory of salamis, the people returned to their city, they found it in ruins. but the spirit of the athenians had been stirred, and in spite of the hostility of persia, the jealousy of neighboring states, and the ruin of the city, the people felt new confidence in themselves and their divinity, and were more than ever ready to strive for the leadership of greece. religious feeling, gratitude to the gods who had preserved them, and civic pride in the glory of their own victorious city, all inspired the athenians. after the winter in which the persians were finally beaten at plataea, the athenians began to rebuild. for a while their efforts were confined to rendering the city habitable and defensible, since the activity of the little state was largely political. but when th leadership of athens in greece had become firmly established under theistocles and cimon, the third president of the democracy, pericles, found leisure to turn to the artistic development of the city. the time was ripe, for the artistic progress of the people had been no less marked than their political. the same long training in valor and temperance which gave athens her statesmen, aristides and pericles, gave her her artists and poets also. pericles became president of the city in b.c., just at the time when the decorative arts were approaching perfection under pheidias. pheidias was an athenian by birth, the son of charmides. he studied first under hegias, then under ageladas the argive. he became the most famous sculptor of his time, and when pericles wanted a director for his great monumental works at athens, he summoned pheidias. artists from all over hellas put themselves at his disposal, and under his direction the parthenon was built and adorned with the most splendid statuary the world has ever known. the parthenon was fashioned in honor of athene or minerva, the guardian deity of athens, the preserver of hellas, whom the athenians in their gratitude sought to make the sovereign goddess of the land which she had saved. the eastern gable of the temple was adorned with a group representing the appearance of minerva before the gods of olympus. in the left angle of the gable appeared helios, the dawn, rising from the sea. in the right angle selene, evening, sank from sight. next to helios was a figure representing either dionysus or olympus, and beside were seated two figures, perhaps persephone and demeter, perhaps two horae. approaching these as a messenger was iris. balancing these figures on the side next selene were two figures, representing aphrodite in the arms of peitho, or perhaps thalassa, goddess of the sea, leaning against gaia, the earth. nearer the centre on this side was hestia, to whom hermes brought the tidings. the central group is totally lost, but must have been made up of zeus, athene, and vulcan, with, perhaps, others of the greater divinities. the group of the western pediment represented athene and poseidon, contesting for the supremacy of athens. athene's chariot is driven by victory, poseidon's by amphitrite. although the greater part of the attendant deities have disappeared, we know the gods of the rivers of athens, eridanas and ilissos, in reclining postures filled the corners of the pediment. one of these has survived, and remains in its perfection of grace and immortal beauty to attest the wonderful skill that directed the chiselling of the whole group. although the gable groups have suffered terribly in the historic vicissitudes of the parthenon, still enough remains of them to show the dignity of their conception, the rhythm of composition, and the splendid freedom of their workmanship. the fragments were purchased by lord elgin early in this century and are now in the british museum. the frieze of the parthenon, executed under the supervision of pheidias, represented one of the most glorious religious ceremonies of the greek, the pan-athenaic procession. the deities surround zeus as spectators of the scene, and toward them winds the long line of virgins bearing incense, herds of animals for sacrifice, players upon the lute and lyre, chariots and riders. on the western front the movement has not yet begun, and the youths and men stand in disorder, some binding their mantles, some mounting their horses. the frieze is noteworthy for its expression of physical and intellectual beauty which marked the highest conceptions of greek art, and for the studied mingling of forcible action and gracious repose. the larger part of this frieze has been preserved and is to be seen at the british museum. the third group of parthenon sculptures, the ornaments of the metope, represents the contest between centaurs and the lapithae with some scenes interspersed of which the subjects cannot now be determined. the frieze is in low relief, the figures scarcely starting from the background. the sculptures of the metope, on the contrary, are in high relief, frequently giving the impression of marbles detached from the background altogether. they were, moreover, colored. or course, pheidias himself cannot have had more than the share of general director in the sculptures of the metope; many of them are manifestly executed by inferior hands. nevertheless, the mind of a great designer is evident in the wonderful variety of posture and action which the figures show. indeed, when we consider the immense number of figures employed, it becomes evident that not even all the sculptures of the pediments can have been executed entirely by pheidias, who was already probably well advanced in life when he began the parthenon decorations; yet all the sculptures were the work of pheidias or of pupils working under him, and although traces may be found of the influence of other artists, of myron, for example, in the freedom and naturalness of the action in the figures of the frieze, yet all the decorations of the parthenon may fairly be said to belong to the pheidian school of sculpture. the fame of pheidias himself, however, rested very largely on three great pieces of art work: the athene promachos, the athene parthenos, and the olympian zeus. the first of these was a work of pheidias's youth. it represented the goddess standing gazing toward athens lovingly and protectingly. she held a spear in one hand, the other supported a buckler. the statue was nine feet high. it was dignified and noble, but at the time of its conception pheidias had not freed himself from the convention and traditions of the earlier school, and the stiff folds of the tunic, the cold demeanor of the goddess, recall the masters whom pheidias was destined to supersede. no copy of this statue survives, and hence a description of it must be largely conjectural, made up from hints gleaned from athenian coins. pheidias sculptured other statues of athene, but none so wonderful as the athene parthenos, which, with the olympian zeus, was the wonder and admiration of the greek world. the athene parthenos was designed to stand as an outward symbol of the divinity in whose protecting might the city had conquered and grown strong, in whose honor the temple had been built in which this statue was to shine as queen. the olympian zeus was the representative of that greater divinity which all hellas united in honoring. we may gain from the words of pausanias some idea of the magnificence of this statue, but of its unutterable majesty we can only form faint images in the mind, remembering the strength and grace of the figures of the pediments of the temple at athens. "zeus," says pausanias, "is seated on a throne of ivory and gold; upon his head is laced a garland made in imitation of olive leaves. he bears a victory in his right hand, also crowned and made in gold and ivory, and holding in her right hand a little fillet. in his left hand the god holds a sceptre, made of all kinds of metals; the bird perched on the tip of the sceptre is an eagle. the shoes of zeus are also of gold, and of gold his mantle, and underneath this mantle are figures and lilies inlaid." both the olympian zeus and the athene were of chryselephantine work offering enormous technical difficulties, but in spite of this both showed almost absolute perfection of form united with beauty of intellectual character to represent the godhead incarnate in human substance. these two statues may be taken as the noblest creations of the greek imagination when directed to the highest objects of its contemplation. the beauty of the olympian zeus, according to quintilian, "added a new element to religion." in the works of art just mentioned the creative force of the greeks attained its highest success. after the death of pheidias his methods were carried on in a way by the sculptors who had worked under him and become subject to his influence; but as years went on, with less and less to remind us of the supreme perfection of the master. among these pupils of pheidias were agoracritos and colotes in athens, paionios, and alcamenes. of paionios fortunately one statue survives in regard to which there can be no doubt. the victory erected to the olympian zeus shows a tall goddess, strongly yet gracefully carved, posed forward with her drapery flattened closely against her body in front as if by the wind, and streaming freely behind. the masterpiece of alcamenes, an aphrodite, is known only by descriptions. the pediments of the temple at olympia have been assigned, by tradition, one to alcamenes, one to paionios. they are, however, so thoroughly archaic in style that it seems impossible to reconcile them with what we know of the work of the men to whom they are attributed. the group of the eastern front represented the chariot races of oinomaos and pelops; that of the western, the struggle of the centaurs and lapithae. in the latter the action is extremely violent, only the apollo in the midst is calm and commanding. in both pediments there are decided approaches to realism. in athens, after pheidias, the greatest sculptures were those used to adorn the erechtheion. the group of caryatids, maidens who stand erect and firm, bearing upon their heads the weight of the porch, is justly celebrated as an architectural device. at the same time, the maidens, though thus performing the work of columns, do not lose the grace and charm which naturally belongs to them. another post-pheidian work at athens was the temple of nike apteros, the wingless victory. the bas-reliefs from this temple, now in the acropolis museum at athens, one representing the victory stooping to tie her sandal, another, the victory crowning a trophy, recall the consummate grace of the art of pheidias, the greatest greek art. agoracritos left behind him works at athens which in their perfection could scarcely be distinguished from the works of pheidias himself, none of which have come down to us. but from the time of the peloponnesian war, the seeds of decay were in the art of hellas, and they ripened fast. in one direction callimachus carried refined delicacy and formal perfection to excess; and in the other demetrios, the portrait sculptor, put by ideal beauty for the striking characteristics of realism. thus the strict reserve, the earnest simplicity of pheidias and his contemporaries, were sacrificed sacrificed partly, it is true, to the requirements of a fuller spiritual life, partly to the demands of a wider knowledge and deeper passion. the legitimate effects of sculpture are strictly limited. sculpture is fitted to express not temporary, accidental feeling, but permanent character; not violent action, but repose. in the great work of the golden age the thought of the artist was happily limited so that the form was adequate to its expression. one single motive was all that he tried to express a motive uncomplicated by details of specific situation, a type of general beauty unmixed with the peculiar suggestions of special and individual emotion. when the onward impulse led the artist to pass over the severe limits which bounded the thought of the earlier school, he found his medium becoming less adequate to the demands of his more detailed and circumstantial mental conception. the later sculpture, therefore, lacks in some measure the repose and entire assurance of the earlier. the earlier sculpture confines itself to broad, central lines of heroic and divine character, as in the two masterpieces of pheidias. the latter dealt in great elaboration with the details and elements of the stories and characters that formed its subjects, as in the niobe group, or the laocoon, to be mentioned later. these modern tendencies produced as the greatest artists of the later greek type scopas and praxiteles. between these, however, and the earlier school which they superseded came the athenian kephisodotos, the father, it may be supposed of praxiteles. his fame rests upon a single work, a copy of which has been discovered, the eirene and ploutos. in this, while the simplicity and strictness of the pheidian ideal have been largely preserved, it has been used as the vehicle of deeper feeling and more spiritual life. scopas was born at paros, and lived during the fist half of the fourth century. he did much decorative work including the pediments of the temple of athena at tegea. he participated also in the decoration of the mausoleum erected by artemisia to the memory of her husband. in this latter, the battle of the amazons, though probably not the work of scopas himself, shows in the violence of its attitudes and the pathos of its action the new elements of interest in greek art with the introduction of which scopas is connected. the fame of scopas rests principally on the niobe group which is attributed to him. the sculpture represents the wife of amphion at the moment when the curse of apollo and diana falls upon her, and her children are slain before her eyes. the children, already feeling the arrows of the gods, are flying to her for protection. she tries in vain to shield her youngest born beneath her mantle, and turns as if to hide her face with its motherly pride just giving place to despair and agony. the whole group is free from contortion and grandly tragic. the original exists no longer, but copies of parts of the group are found in the uffizi gallery at florence. the niobe group shows the distinction between scopas and praxiteles and the earlier artists in choice of subject and mode of treatment. the same distinction is shown by the raging bacchante of scopas. the head is thrown back, the hair loosened, the garments floating in the wind, an ecstacy of wild, torrent- like action. of the work of praxiteles we know more directly than of the work of any other greek sculptor of the same remoteness, for one statue has come down to us actually from the master's own hand, and we possess good copies of several others. his statues of aphrodite, of which there were at least five, are known to us by the figures on coins and by two works in the same style, the aphrodite in the glyptothek, and that of the vatican. the most famous of all was the aphrodite of cnidos, which was ranked with the olympian zeus and was called one of the wonders of te world. king nicomedes of bithynia offered vainly to the people of cnidos the entire amount of their state debt for its possession. lucian described the goddess as having a smile somewhat proud and disdainful; yet the eyes, moist and kindly, glowed with tenderness and passion, and the graceful lines of the shoulders, the voluptuous curves of the thighs, are full of sensuous feeling. the goddess, as represented in coins, stood beside a vase, over which her drapery is falling, while with her right hand she shields herself modestly. the head of aphrodite in the british museum, with its pure brows, its delicate, voluptuous lips, and sweet, soft skin, is, perhaps, the nearest approach which we possess to the glorious beauty of the original. other aphrodites, the draped statue of cos among them, and several statues of eros, representing tender, effeminate youths, illustrate further the departure which praxiteles marks from the restraint of pheidias. another of his masculine figures is the graceful apollo with the lizard. the god, strong in his youthful suppleness, is leaning against a tree threatening with his darts a small lizard which is seeking to climb up. still another type of masculine grace left us by praxiteles is his statue of the satyr, of which a copy exists in the capitoline museum. the satyr, in the hands of praxiteles, lost all his ancient uncouthness, and became a strong, graceful youth, with soft, full form. in the capitoline representation the boy is leaning easily against a tree, throwing his body into the most indolent posture, which brings out the soft, feminine curves of hips and legs. in fact, so thoroughly is the feminine principle worked into the statues of the apollo, the eros, and the satyr, that this characteristic became considered typical of praxiteles, and when, in , was discovered the one authentic work which we possess of this artist, the great hermes of olympia, critics were at a loss to reconcile this figure with what was already known of the sculptor's work, some holding that it must be a work of his youth, when, through his father, kephisodotos, he felt the force of the pheidian tradition, others that there must have been two sculptors bearing the great name of praxiteles. the hermes was found lacking the right arm and both legs below the knees, but the marvellous head and torso are perfectly preserved. the god is without the traditional symbols of his divinity. he is merely a beautiful man. he stands leaning easily against a tree, supporting on one arm the child dionysus, to whom he turns his gracious head with the devotion and love of a protector. the face, in its expression of sweet majesty, is distinctly a personal conception. the low forehead, the eyes far apart, the small, playful mouth, the round, dimpled chin, all bear evidence to the individual quality which praxiteles infused into the ideal thought of the god. the body, though at rest, is instinct with life and activity, in spite of its grace. in short, the form of the god has the superb perfection, as the face has the dignity, which was attributed to pheidias. nevertheless, the hermes illustrates sensual loveliness of the later school. the freedom with which the god is conceived belongs to an age when the chains of religious belief sat lightly upon the artist. the gds of praxiteles are the gods of human experience, and in his treatment of them he does not always escape the tendency of the age of decline to put pathos and passion in the place of eternal majesty. the influence of scopas and praxiteles continued to be felt through a number of artists who worked in sufficient harmony with them to be properly called of their school. to one of these followers of praxiteles, some say as a copy of a work of the master himself, we must attribute the demeter now in the british museum. this is a pathetic illustration of suffering motherhood. there is no exaggeration in the grief, only the calm dignity of a sorrow which in spite of hope refuses to be comforted. another work of an unknown artist, probably a follower of scopas, is the splendid victory of samothrace, now in the louvre. the goddess, with her great wings outspread behind her, is being carried forward, her firm rounded limbs striking through the draperies which flutter behind her, and fall about her in soft folds. vigorous and stately, the goddess poises herself on the prow of the ship, swaying with the impulse of conquering daring and strength. another statue which belongs, so far as artistic reasoning may carry us, to the period and school of praxiteles, is the so- called venus of milo. the proper title to be given to this statue is doubtful, for the drapery corresponds to that of the roman type of victory, and if we could be sure that the goddess once held the shield of conquest in her now broken arms we should be forced to call the figure a victory and place its date no earlier than the second century b.c. however this may be, the statue is justly one of the most famous in the world. it represents an ideal of purity and sweetness. there is not a trace of coarseness or immodesty in the half-naked woman who stands perfect in the maidenly dignity of her own conquering fairness. her serious yet smiling face, her graceful form, the delicacy of feeling in attitude and gaze, the tender moulding of breast and limbs, make it a worthy companion of the hermes or praxiteles. it seems scarcely possible that it should not have sprung from the inspiration of his example. the last of the great sculptors of greece was lysippos of sikyou. he differed from pheidias on the one hand and from polycleitos on the other. pheidias strove to make his gods all god-like; lysippos was content to represent them merely as exaggerated human beings; but therein he differed also from polycleitos, who aimed to model the human body with the beauty only which actually existed in it. lysippos felt that he must set the standard of human perfection higher than it appears in the average of human examples. hence we have from him the statues of heracles, in which the ideal of manly strength was carried far beyond the range of human possibility. a reminiscence of this conception of lysippos may be found in the farnese heracles of glycon, now in the museum of naples. lysippos also sculptured four statues of zeus, which depended for their interest largely on their heroic size. lysippos won much fame by his statues of alexander the great, but he is chiefly known to us by his statue of the athlete scraping himself with a strigil, of which an authentic copy is in the vatican. the figure differs decidedly from the thick-set, rather heavy figures of polycleitos, being tall, and slender in spite of its robustness. the head is small, the torso is small at the waist, but strong, and the whole body is splendidly active. the changes in the models of earlier sculptors made by lysippos were of sufficient importance to give rise to a school which was carried on by his sons and others, producing among many famous works the barberini faun, now at the glyptothek, munich. the enormous colossus of rhodes was also the work of a disciple of lysippos. but from this time the downward tendency in greek art is only too apparent, and very rapid. the spread of greek influence over asia, and later, in consequence of the conquest of greece by rome, over europe, had the effect of widening the market for greek production, but of drying up the sources of what was vital in that production. athens and sikyou became mere provincial cities, and were shorn thenceforth of all artistic significance; and greek art, thus deprived of the roots of its life, continued to grow for a while with a rank luxuriance of production, but soon became normal and conventional. the artists who followed lysippos contented themselves chiefly with seeking a merely technical perfection in reproducing the creations of the earlier and more original age. at pergamon under attalus, in the last years of the third century, there was something of an artistic revival. this attalus successfully defended his country against an overwhelming attack of the gauls from the north. to celebrate this victory, an altar was erected to zeus on the acropolis of pergamon, of which the frieze represented the contest between zeus and the giants. these sculptures are now to be found in berlin. they are carved in high relief; the giants with muscles strained and distended, their bodies writhing in the contortions of effort and suffering; the gods, no longer calm and restrained, but themselves overcome with the ardor of battle. zeus stretches his arms over the battle-field hurling destruction everywhere. athene turns from the field, dragging at her heels a young giant whom she has conquered, and reaches forward to the crown of victory. the wild, passionate action of the whole work remove it far from the firm, orderly work of pheidias, and carry it almost to the extreme of pathetic representation in sculpture shown by the laocoon. the contests with the gauls, the fear inspired by the huge forms of the barbarians, seem to have influenced powerfully the imaginative conceptions of the sculptors of the school of pergamon. one of the most famous works which they have left is the figure long known as the dying gladiator, of which a copy exists in the capitoline museum. this represents a gaul sinking wounded to the ground, supporting himself on his right arm. it is remarkable for its stern realism. the pain and sense of defeat comes out in every feature. moreover, the nationality of the fallen warrior is clearly expressed in the deep indentation between the heavy brow and the prominent nose, in the face, shaven, except the upper lip, in the uncouth, fleshy body, in the rough hands and feet. usually the artist preferred to hint at the race by some peculiarities of costume. here nothing but uncompromising realism of feature will satisfy the sculptor. a companion piece to the wounded gaul, though less famous, is the group of the villa ludovisi, which represents a gaul, who has slain his wife, in the act of stabbing himself in the neck. in addition to inspiring the sculptures at pergamon, attalus dedicated to the gods of athens a votive offering in return for the help which they had given him. this was placed on the acropolis at athens. it consisted of four groups, representing the gigantomachia or giant combat, the battle of the amazons, the battle of marathon, and the victory of attalus. figures from these survive, a dead amazon at naples and a kneeling persian at the vatican being the best known. another state which became famous in the declining days of greek art was the republic of rhodes. the rhodian sculptors learned their anatomy from lysippos, and caught their dramatic instinct from the artists of pergamon. two of the most famous sculpture groups in the world were produced at rhodes, the laocoon, now at the vatican, and the farnese bull, now at naples. the former was the work of three artists, given by pliny as agesandros, athanodorus, and polydorus. it has been accepted as one of the masterpieces of the world, but as we shall see, it is manifestly a work of a time of decadence. the laocoon illustrates excellently the extreme results of the pathetic tendency. the priest laocoon is represented at the moment when the serpents of apollo surround him and his two sons, born through their father's sin, and bear them all three down to destruction. the younger son, fatally bitten, falls back in death agony. the father yields slowly, his desperation giving way before the merciless strength of the serpents. the elder son shrinks away in horror though bound fast by the inevitable coils. the laocoon shows the pathetic tendency at its utmost. the technical difficulties have been overcome with astonishing success, and though the combination of figures is impossible in life, it is marvellously effective in art. but the group depends for its interest purely on the accidental horror of the situation. there is no hint in the sculpture of the motive of the tragedy, no suggestion of ethical significance in the suffering portrayed. it does not connect itself with any principle of life. in this way the work became a superb piece of display, a tour de force of surprising composition but with little serious meaning. the same judgment may be extended to the farnese bull, the work of apollonius and tauriscos, artists from tralles who lived at rhodes. this group represents the punishment of the cruel dirke at the hands of the sons of antiope. the beautiful queen clasps the knee of one of the sons praying for grace, while the other boy is about to throw over her the noose which is to bind her to the bull. antiope stands in the background, a mere lay figure, and scattered about are numerous small symbolical figures. like the laocoon the farnese bull exhibits surprising mastery of technical obstacles, but, like the laocoon, it falls short of true tragic grandeur. in a greater degree than the laocoon it trenches upon the province of painting. it is more complicated in its subject-matter; and the appearance in the group of many small subsidiary figures, which in a painting might have been given their proper value, being in the marble of the same relief and distinction as the major characters, give a somewhat absurd effect. the little goddess who sits in the foreground, for instance, is smaller than the dog. again, there is less of the motive shown than in the laocoon. the group is seized at the moment preceding the frightful catastrophe, but that moment is as full of agony as the succeeding ones, and in addition there is the feeling of suspense and oppression that comes from the unfinished tragedy. altogether, the group, in spite of the marvellous technical skill shown in details, is a failure when judged on general lines. its interest lies in momentary and apparently ummotived suffering, not in any truly serious conception of life. with the conquest of greece by rome, the final stage of greek art begins. but the vigor and originality had departed. the sculptors aimed at and attained technical correctness, academic beauty of form, sensuous feeling, perfection of details, but they lost all imaginative power. a good example of the work of this period is found in the apollo belvidere now in the vatican. this famous statue is an early roman copy of a greek original. it represents the god advancing easily, full of vigor and grace. it is marvellously correct in drawing, but quite without feeling of any kind. another work of this period is the sleeping ariadne of the vatican. this represents a woman reclining in a studied sentimental attitude, her arms thrown about her head, her body swathed in its protecting drapery. to the same period also belongs almost the last notable work of greek art, the degenerate and sensuous conception of the venus de medici. in this statue the goddess stands as if rising from the sea, her attitude reserved, yet coquettish and self-conscious. the form is technically perfect, graceful, and soft in its refinement, but compared with the earlier aphrodites it is an unworthy successor. still another famous statue is the borghese gladiator, of agasius of ephesus, now in the louvre. the statue is merely a bit of display, an effort to parade technical skill and anatomical knowledge. the gladiator throws his weight strongly on his right leg, and holds one arm high above his head, giving to his whole body an effect of straining. the figure is strong and wiry. agasius was distinctly an imitator, as were most of the artists of this age, among whom must be reckoned the skilful sculptor of the crouching venus, also in the louvre. the goddess is shown as bending down in graceful curves until her body is supported on the right leg, which is bent double. the form is strong and healthy, graceful and easy in its somewhat constrained posture. during all of this final period greek art was very largely influenced by the relations which existed between greece and rome. about the year b.c. the roman conquest of greece led to an important traffic in works of art between rome and the greek cities. for a time, indeed, statues formed a recognized part of the booty which graced every roman triumph. m. fulvius nobilior carried away not less than five hundred and fifteen. after the period of conquest the importation of greek statues continued at rome, and in time greek artists also began to remove thither, so that rome became not only the centre for the collection of greek works of art, but the chief seat of their production. at this time the roman religious conceptions were identified with those of greece, and the greek gods received the latin names by which we now know them. the influence of the greeks upon rome was very marked, but the reflex influence of the material civilization of italy upon greek art was altogether bad, and thus the splendor of classical art went out in dilletantism and weakness. the destruction of the roman empire by the barbarians makes a break in the artistic history of the world. not for many centuries was there a vestige of artistic production. even when in italy and france the monks began to make crude attempts to reach out for and represent in painting and sculpture imaginative conceptions of things beautiful, they took their material exclusively from christian sources. the tradition of classical stories had nearly vanished from the mind of europe. not until the renaissance restored the knowledge of classical culture to europe do we find artists making any use of the wealth of imaginative material stored up in the myths of greece. then, indeed, by the discovery and circulation of the poets of mythology, the greek stories and conceptions of characters, divine and human, became known once more and were used freely, remaining until the present day one chief source of material and subject-matter for the use of the painter and sculptor. myth, ritual, and religion volume one by andrew lang contents preface to new impression. preface to new edition. chapter i.--systems of mythology. definitions of religion--contradictory evidence--"belief in spiritual beings"--objection to mr. tylor's definition--definition as regards this argument--problem: the contradiction between religion and myth--two human moods--examples--case of greece-- ancient mythologists--criticism by eusebius--modern mythological systems--mr. max muller--mannhardt. chapter ii.--new system proposed. chapter i. recapitulated--proposal of a new method: science of comparative or historical study of man--anticipated in part by eusebius, fontenelle, de brosses, spencer (of c. c. c., cambridge), and mannhardt--science of tylor--object of inquiry: to find condition of human intellect in which marvels of myth are parts of practical everyday belief--this is the savage state--savages described--the wild element of myth a survival from the savage state--advantages of this method--partly accounts for wide diffusion as well as origin of myths--connected with general theory of evolution--puzzling example of myth of the water- swallower--professor tiele's criticism of the method-- objections to method, and answer to these--see appendix b. chapter iii.--the mental condition of savages--confusion with nature--totemism. the mental condition of savages the basis of the irrational element in myth--characteristics of that condition: ( ) confusion of all things in an equality of presumed animation and intelligence; ( ) belief in sorcery; ( ) spiritualism; ( ) curiosity; ( ) easy credulity and mental indolence--the curiosity is satisfied, thanks to the credulity, by myths in answer to all inquiries--evidence for this--mr. tylor's opinion--mr. im thurn--jesuit missionaries' relations--examples of confusion between men, plants, beasts and other natural objects--reports of travellers--evidence from institution of totemism--definition of totemism--totemism in australia, africa, america, the oceanic islands, india, north asia-- conclusions: totemism being found so widely distributed, is a proof of the existence of that savage mental condition in which no line is drawn between men and the other things in the world. this confusion is one of the characteristics of myth in all races. chapter iv.--the mental condition of savages--magic-- metamorphosis--metaphysic--psychology. claims of sorcerers--savage scientific speculation--theory of causation--credulity, except as to new religious ideas--"post hoc, ergo propter hoc"--fundamental ideas of magic--examples: incantations, ghosts, spirits--evidence of rank and other institutions in proof of confusions of mind exhibited in magical beliefs. chapter v.--nature myths. savage fancy, curiosity and credulity illustrated in nature myths-- in these all phenomena are explained by belief in the general animation of everything, combined with belief in metamorphosis--sun myths, asian, australian, african, melanesian, indian, californian, brazilian, maori, samoan--moon myths, australian, muysca, mexican, zulu, macassar, greenland, piute, malay--thunder myths--greek and aryan sun and moon myths--star myths--myths, savage and civilised, of animals, accounting for their marks and habits--examples of custom of claiming blood kinship with lower animals--myths of various plants and trees--myths of stones, and of metamorphosis into stones, greek, australian and american--the whole natural philosophy of savages expressed in myths, and survives in folk-lore and classical poetry; and legends of metamorphosis. chapter vi.--non-aryan myths of the origin of the world and of man. confusions of myth--various origins of man and of things--myths of australia, andaman islands, bushmen, ovaherero, namaquas, zulus, hurons, iroquois, diggers, navajoes, winnebagoes, chaldaeans, thlinkeets, pacific islanders, maoris, aztecs, peruvians-- similarity of ideas pervading all those peoples in various conditions of society and culture. chapter vii.--indo-aryan myths--sources of evidence. authorities--vedas--brahmanas--social condition of vedic india-- arts--ranks--war--vedic fetishism--ancestor worship--date of rig- veda hymns doubtful--obscurity of the hymns--difficulty of interpreting the real character of veda--not primitive but sacerdotal--the moral purity not innocence but refinement. chapter viii.--indian myths of the origin of the world and of man. comparison of vedic and savage myths--the metaphysical vedic account of the beginning of things--opposite and savage fable of world made out of fragments of a man--discussion of this hymn-- absurdities of brahmanas--prajapati, a vedic unkulunkulu or qat-- evolutionary myths--marriage of heaven and earth--myths of puranas, their savage parallels--most savage myths are repeated in brahmanas. chapter ix.--greek myths of the origin of the world and man. the greeks practically civilised when we first meet them in homer-- their mythology, however, is full of repulsive features--the hypothesis that many of these are savage survivals--are there other examples of such survival in greek life and institutions?--greek opinion was constant that the race had been savage--illustrations of savage survival from greek law of homicide, from magic, religion, human sacrifice, religious art, traces of totemism, and from the mysteries--conclusion: that savage survival may also be expected in greek myths. chapter x.--greek cosmogonic myths. nature of the evidence--traditions of origin of the world and man-- homeric, hesiodic and orphic myths--later evidence of historians, dramatists, commentators--the homeric story comparatively pure--the story in hesiod, and its savage analogues--the explanations of the myth of cronus, modern and ancient--the orphic cosmogony--phanes and prajapati--greek myths of the origin of man--their savage analogues. chapter xi.--savage divine myths. the origin of a belief in god beyond the ken of history and of speculation--sketch of conjectural theories--two elements in all beliefs, whether of backward or civilised races--the mythical and the religious--these may be coeval, or either may be older than the other--difficulty of study--the current anthropological theory-- stated objections to the theory--gods and spirits--suggestion that savage religion is borrowed from europeans--reply to mr. tylor's arguments on this head--the morality of savages. preface to new impression. when this book first appeared ( ), the philological school of interpretation of religion and myth, being then still powerful in england, was criticised and opposed by the author. in science, as on the turkish throne of old, "amurath to amurath succeeds"; the philological theories of religion and myth have now yielded to anthropological methods. the centre of the anthropological position was the "ghost theory" of mr. herbert spencer, the "animistic" theory of mr. e. r. tylor, according to whom the propitiation of ancestral and other spirits leads to polytheism, and thence to monotheism. in the second edition ( ) of this work the author argued that the belief in a "relatively supreme being," anthropomorphic was as old as, and might be even older, than animistic religion. this theory he exhibited at greater length, and with a larger collection of evidence, in his making of religion. since , a great deal of fresh testimony as to what mr. howitt styles the "all father" in savage and barbaric religions has accrued. as regards this being in africa, the reader may consult the volumes of the new series of the journal of the anthropological institute, which are full of african evidence, not, as yet, discussed, to my knowledge, by any writer on the history of religion. as late as man, for july, , no. , mr. parkinson published interesting yoruba legends about oleron, the maker and father of men, and oro, the master of the bull roarer. from australia, we have mr. howitt's account of the all father in his native tribes of south-east australia, with the account of the all father of the central australian tribe, the kaitish, in north central tribes of australia, by messrs. spencer and gillen ( ), also the euahlayi tribe, by mrs. langley parker ( ). these masterly books are indispensable to all students of the subject, while, in messrs. spencer and gillen's work cited, and in their earlier native tribes of central australia, we are introduced to savages who offer an elaborate animistic theory, and are said to show no traces of the all father belief. the books of messrs. spencer and gillen also present much evidence as to a previously unknown form of totemism, in which the totem is not hereditary, and does not regulate marriage. this prevails among the arunta "nation," and the kaitish tribe. in the opinion of mr. spencer (report australian association for advancement of science, ) and of mr. j. g. frazer (fortnightly review, september, ), this is the earliest surviving form of totemism, and mr. frazer suggests an animistic origin for the institution. i have criticised these views in the secret of the totem ( ), and proposed a different solution of the problem. (see also "primitive and advanced totemism" in journal of the anthropological institute, july, .) in the works mentioned will be found references to other sources of information as to these questions, which are still sub judice. mrs. bates, who has been studying the hitherto almost unknown tribes of western australia, promises a book on their beliefs and institutions, and mr. n. w. thomas is engaged on a volume on australian institutions. in this place the author can only direct attention to these novel sources, and to the promised third edition of mr. frazer's the golden bough. a. l. preface to new edition. the original edition of myth, ritual and religion, published in , has long been out of print. in revising the book i have brought it into line with the ideas expressed in the second part of my making of religion ( ) and have excised certain passages which, as the book first appeared, were inconsistent with its main thesis. in some cases the original passages are retained in notes, to show the nature of the development of the author's opinions. a fragment or two of controversy has been deleted, and chapters xi. and xii., on the religion of the lowest races, have been entirely rewritten, on the strength of more recent or earlier information lately acquired. the gist of the book as it stands now and as it originally stood is contained in the following lines from the preface of : "while the attempt is made to show that the wilder features of myth survive from, or were borrowed from, or were imitated from the ideas of people in the savage condition of thought, the existence--even among savages--of comparatively pure, if inarticulate, religious beliefs is insisted on throughout". to that opinion i adhere, and i trust that it is now expressed with more consistency than in the first edition. i have seen reason, more and more, to doubt the validity of the "ghost theory," or animistic hypothesis, as explanatory of the whole fabric of religion; and i present arguments against mr. tylor's contention that the higher conceptions of savage faith are borrowed from missionaries.( ) it is very possible, however, that mr. tylor has arguments more powerful than those contained in his paper of . for our information is not yet adequate to a scientific theory of the origin of religion, and probably never will be. behind the races whom we must regard as "nearest the beginning" are their unknown ancestors from a dateless past, men as human as ourselves, but men concerning whose psychical, mental and moral condition we can only form conjectures. among them religion arose, in circumstances of which we are necessarily ignorant. thus i only venture on a surmise as to the germ of a faith in a maker (if i am not to say "creator") and judge of men. but, as to whether the higher religious belief, or the lower mythical stories came first, we are at least certain that the christian conception of god, given pure, was presently entangled, by the popular fancy of europe, in new marchen about the deity, the madonna, her son, and the apostles. here, beyond possibility of denial, pure belief came first, fanciful legend was attached after. i am inclined to surmise that this has always been the case, and, in the pages on the legend of zeus, i show the processes of degeneration, of mythical accretions on a faith in a heaven-god, in action. that "the feeling of religious devotion" attests "high faculties" in early man (such as are often denied to men who "cannot count up to seven"), and that "the same high mental faculties... would infallibly lead him, as long as his reasoning powers remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and customs," was the belief of mr. darwin.( ) that is also my view, and i note that the lowest savages are not yet guilty of the very worst practices, "sacrifice of human beings to a blood-loving god," and ordeals by poison and fire, to which mr. darwin alludes. "the improvement of our science" has freed us from misdeeds which are unknown to the andamanese or the australians. thus there was, as regards these points in morals, degeneracy from savagery as society advanced, and i believe that there was also degeneration in religion. to say this is not to hint at a theory of supernatural revelation to the earliest men, a theory which i must, in limine disclaim. ( ) tylor, "limits of savage religion." journal of the anthropological institute, vol. xxi. ( ) descent of man, p. , . in vol. ii. p. occurs a reference, in a note, to mr. hartland's criticism of my ideas about australian gods as set forth in the making of religion. mr. hartland, who kindly read the chapters on australian religion in this book, does not consider that my note on p. meets the point of his argument. as to the australians, i mean no more than that, among endless low myths, some of them possess a belief in a "maker of everything," a primal being, still in existence, watching conduct, punishing breaches of his laws, and, in some cases, rewarding the good in a future life. of course these are the germs of a sympathetic religion, even if the being thus regarded is mixed up with immoral or humorous contradictory myths. my position is not harmed by such myths, which occur in all old religions, and, in the middle ages, new myths were attached to the sacred figures of christianity in poetry and popular tales. thus, if there is nothing "sacred" in a religion because wild or wicked fables about the gods also occur, there is nothing "sacred" in almost any religion on earth. mr. hartland's point, however, seems to be that, in the making of religion, i had selected certain australian beliefs as especially "sacred" and to be distinguished from others, because they are inculcated at the religious mysteries of some tribes. his aim, then, is to discover low, wild, immoral myths, inculcated at the mysteries, and thus to destroy my line drawn between religion on one hand and myth or mere folk-lore on the other. thus there is a being named daramulun, of whose rites, among the coast murring, i condensed the account of mr. howitt.( ) from a statement by mr. greenway( ) mr. hartland learned that daramulun's name is said to mean "leg on one side" or "lame". he, therefore, with fine humour, speaks of daramulun as "a creator with a game leg," though when "baiame" is derived by two excellent linguists, mr. ridley and mr. greenway, from kamilaroi baia, "to make," mr. hartland is by no means so sure of the sense of the name. it happens to be inconvenient to him! let the names mean what they may, mr. hartland finds, in an obiter dictum of mr. howitt (before he was initiated), that daramulun is said to have "died," and that his spirit is now aloft. who says so, and where, we are not informed,( ) and the question is important. ( ) j. a. i., xiii. pp. - . ( ) ibid., xxi. p. . ( ) ibid., xiii. p. . for the wiraijuri, in their mysteries, tell a myth of cannibal conduct of daramulun's, and of deceit and failure of knowledge in baiame.( ) of this i was unaware, or neglected it, for i explicitly said that i followed mr. howitt's account, where no such matter is mentioned. mr. howitt, in fact, described the mysteries of the coast murring, while the narrator of the low myths, mr. matthews, described those of a remote tribe, the wiraijuri, with whom daramulun is not the chief, but a subordinate person. how mr. matthews' friends can at once hold that daramulun was "destroyed" by baiame (their chief deity), and also that daramulun's voice is heard at their rites, i don't know.( ) nor do i know why mr. hartland takes the myth of a tribe where daramulun is "the evil spirit who rules the night,"( ) and introduces it as an argument against the belief of a distant tribe, where, by mr. howitt's account, daramulun is not an evil spirit, but "the master" of all, whose abode is above the sky, and to whom are attributed powers of omnipotence and omnipresence, or, at any rate, the power "to do anything and to go anywhere.... to his direct ordinances are attributed the social and moral laws of the community."( ) this is not "an evil spirit"! when mr. hartland goes for scandals to a remote tribe of a different creed that he may discredit the creed of the coast murring, he might as well attribute to the free kirk "the errors of rome". but mr. hartland does it!( ) being "cunning of fence" he may reply that i also spoke loosely of wiraijuri and coast murring as, indifferently, daramulunites. i did, and i was wrong, and my critic ought not to accept but to expose my error. the wiraijuri daramulun, who was annihilated, yet who is "an evil spirit that rules the night," is not the murring guardian and founder of recognised ethics. ( ) j. a. i., xxv. p. . ( ) ibid., may, , p. . ( ) ibid. ( ) ibid., xiii. pp. , . ( ) folk-lore, ix., no. iv., p. . but, in the wiraijuri mysteries, the master, baiame, deceives the women as to the mysteries! shocking to us, but to deceive the women as to these arcana, is, to the australian mind in general, necessary for the safety of the world. moreover, we have heard of a lying spirit sent to deceive prophets in a much higher creed. finally, in a myth of the mystery of the wiraijuri, baiame is not omniscient. indeed, even civilised races cannot keep on the level of these religious conceptions, and not to keep on that level is--mythology. apollo, in the hymn to hermes, sung on a sacred occasion, needs to ask an old vine-dresser for intelligence. hyperion "sees all and hears all," but needs to be informed, by his daughters, of the slaughter of his kine. the lord, in the book of job, has to ask satan, "whence comest thou?" now for the sake of dramatic effect, now from pure inability to live on the level of his highest thought, man mythologises and anthropomorphises, in greece or israel, as in australia. it does not follow that there is "nothing sacred" in his religion. mr. hartland offers me a case in point. in mrs. langloh parker's australian legendary tales (pp. , ), are myths of low adventures of baiame. in her more australian legendary tales (pp. - ), is a very poetical and charming aspect of the baiame belief. mr. hartland says that i will "seek to put" the first set of stories out of court, as "a kind of joke with no sacredness about it". not i, but the noongahburrah tribe themselves make this essential distinction. mrs. langloh parker says:( ) "the former series" (with the low baiame myths) "were all such legends as are told to the black picaninnies; among the present are some they would not be allowed to hear, touching as they do on sacred things, taboo to the young". the blacks draw the line which i am said to seek to draw. ( ) more legendary tales, p. xv. in yet another case( ) grotesque hunting adventures of baiame are told in the mysteries, and illustrated by the sacred temporary representations in raised earth. i did not know it; i merely followed mr. howitt. but i do not doubt it. my reply is, that there was "something sacred" in greek mysteries, something purifying, ennobling, consoling. for this lobeck has collected (and disparaged) the evidence of pindar, sophocles, cicero and many others, while even aristophanes, as prof. campbell remarks, says: "we only have bright sun and cheerful life who have been initiated and lived piously in regard to strangers and to private citizens".( ) security and peace of mind, in this world and for the next, were, we know not how, borne into the hearts of pindar and sophocles in the mysteries. yet, if we may at all trust the fathers, there were scenes of debauchery, as at the mysteries of the fijians (nanga) there was buffoonery ("to amuse the boys," mr. howitt says of some australian rites), the story of baubo is only one example, and, in other mysteries than the eleusinian, we know of mummeries in which an absurd tale of zeus is related in connection with an oak log. yet surely there was "something sacred" in the faith of zeus! let us judge the australians as we judge greeks. the precepts as to "speaking the straightforward truth," as to unselfishness, avoidance of quarrels, of wrongs to "unprotected women," of unnatural vices, are certainly communicated in the mysteries of some tribes, with, in another, knowledge of the name and nature of "our father," munganngaur. that a totemistic dance, or medicine-dance of emu hunting, is also displayed( ) at certain mysteries of a given tribe, and that baiame is spoken of as the hero of this ballet, no more deprives the australian moral and religious teaching (at the mysteries) of sacred value, than the stupid indecency whereby baubo made demeter laugh destroys the sacredness of the eleusinia, on which pindar, sophocles and cicero eloquently dwell. if the australian mystae, at the most solemn moment of their lives, are shown a dull or dirty divine ballet d'action, what did sophocles see, after taking a swim with his pig? many things far from edifying, yet the sacred element of religious hope and faith was also represented. so it is in australia. ( ) j. a. i., xxiv. p. . ( ) religion in greek literature, p. . it is to be regretted that the learned professor gives no references. the greek mysteries are treated later in this volume. ( ) see a picture of australia, , p. . these studies ought to be comparative, otherwise they are worthless. as mr. hartland calls daramulun "an eternal creator with a game leg" who "died," he may call zeus an "eternal father, who swallowed his wife, lay with his mother and sister, made love as a swan, and died, nay, was buried, in crete". i do not think that mr. hartland would call zeus "a ghost-god" (my own phrase), or think that he was scoring a point against me, if i spoke of the sacred and ethical characteristics of the zeus adored by eumaeus in the odyssey. he would not be so humorous about zeus, nor fall into an ignoratio elenchi. for my point never was that any australian tribe had a pure theistic conception unsoiled and unobliterated by myth and buffoonery. my argument was that among their ideas is that of a superhuman being, unceasing (if i may not say eternal), a maker (if i may not say a creator), a guardian of certain by no means despicable ethics, which i never proclaimed as supernormally inspired! it is no reply to me to say that, in or out of mysteries, low fables about that being are told, and buffooneries are enacted. for, though i say that certain high ideas are taught in mysteries, i do not think i say that in mysteries no low myths are told. i take this opportunity, as the earliest, to apologise for an error in my making of religion concerning a passage in the primitive culture of my friend mr. e. b. tylor. mr. tylor quoted( ) a passage from captain john smith's history of virginia, as given in pinkerton, xiii. pp. - , . in this passage no mention occurs of a virginian deity named ahone but "okee," another and more truculent god, is named. i observed that, if mr. tylor had used strachey's historie of travaile ( ), he would have found "a slightly varying copy" of smith's text of , with ahone as superior to okee. i added in a note (p. ): "there is a description of virginia, by w. strachey, including smith's remarks published in . strachey interwove some of this work with his own ms. in the british museum." here, as presently will be shown, i erred, in company with strachey's editor of , and with the writer on strachey in the dictionary of national biography. what mr. tylor quoted from an edition of smith in had already appeared, in , in a book (map of virginia, with a description of the countrey) described on the title-page as "written by captain smith," though, in my opinion, smith may have had a collaborator. there is no evidence whatever that strachey had anything to do with this book of , in which there is no mention of ahone. mr. arber dates strachey's own ms. (in which ahone occurs) as of - .( ) i myself, for reasons presently to be alleged, date the ms. mainly in - . if mr. arber and i are right, strachey must have had access to smith's ms. before it was published in , and we shall see how he used it. my point here is that strachey mentioned ahone (in ms.) before smith's book of was published. this could not be gathered from the dedication to bacon prefixed to strachey's ms., for that dedication cannot be earlier that .( ) i now ask leave to discuss the evidence for an early pre-christian belief in a primal creator, held by the indian tribes from plymouth, in new england, to roanoke island, off southern virginia. ( ) prim. cult. ii. p. . ( ) arber's smith, p. cxxxiii. ( ) hakluyt society, strachey, , pp. xxi., xxii. the god ahone. an insertion by a manifest plagiary into the work of a detected liar is not, usually, good evidence. yet this is all the evidence, it may be urged, which we have for the existence of a belief, in early virginia, as to a good creator, named ahone. the matter stands thus: in - the famed captain john smith endured and achieved in virginia sufferings and adventures. in he sent to the council at home a ms. map and description of the colony. in he returned to england (october). in may, , william strachey, gent., arrived in virginia, where he was "secretary of state" to lord de la warr. in strachey and smith were both in england. in that year barnes of oxford published a map of virginia, with a description, etc., "written by captain smith," according to the title-page. there was annexed a compilation from various sources, edited by "w. s.," that is, not william strachey, but dr. william symonds. in the same year, , or in , william strachey wrote his historie of travaile into virginia britannia, at least as far as page of the hakluyt edition of .( ) ( ) for proof see p. . third line from foot of page, where is indicated. again, see p. , line , where "last year" is dated as " , about christmas," which would put strachey's work at this point as actually of ; prior, that is, to smith's publication. again, p. , "this last year, myself being at the falls" (of the james river), "i found in an indian house certain clawes... which i brought away and into england". if strachey, who went out with lord de la warr as secretary in , returned with him (as is likely), he sailed for england on th march, . in that case, he was in england in , and the passages cited leave it dubious whether he wrote his book in , , or in both years.( ) ( ) mr. arber dates the ms. " - ," and attributes to strachey laws for virginia, . strachey embodies in his work considerable pieces of smith's map of virginia and description, written in , and published in . he continually deserts smith, however, adding more recent information, reflections and references to the ancient classics, with allusions to his own travels in the levant. his glossary is much more extensive than smith's, and he inserts a native song of triumph over the english in the original.( ) now, when strachey comes to the religion of the natives( ) he gives eighteen pages (much of it verbiage) to five of smith's.( ) what smith ( ) says of their chief god i quote, setting strachey's version ( - ) beside it. ( ) strachey, pp. - . he may have got the song from kemps or machumps, friendly natives. ( ) pp. - . ( ) arber, pp. - . smith (published, ). but their chiefe god they worship is the diuell. him they call oke, and serue him more of feare than loue. they say they have conference with him, and fashion themselues as near to his shape as they can imagine. in their temples, they have his image euile favouredly carved, and then painted, and adorned with chaines, copper, and beades; and covered with a skin, in such manner as the deformity may well suit with such a god. by him is commonly the sepulcher of their kings. strachey (written, - ). but their chief god they worship is no other, indeed, then the divell, whome they make presentments of, and shadow under the forme of an idoll, which they entitle okeus, and whome they worship as the romans did their hurtful god vejovis, more for feare of harme then for hope of any good; they saie they have conference with him, and fashion themselves in their disguisments as neere to his shape as they can imagyn. in every territory of a weroance is a temple and a priest, peradventure two or thrie; yet happie doth that weroance accompt himself who can detayne with him a quiyough-quisock, of the best, grave, lucky, well instructed in their misteryes, and beloved of their god; and such a one is noe lesse honoured then was dianae's priest at ephesus, for whome they have their more private temples, with oratories and chauneells therein, according as is the dignity and reverence of the quiyough-quisock, which the weroance wilbe at charge to build upon purpose, sometyme twenty foote broad and a hundred in length, fashioned arbour wyse after their buylding, having comonly the dore opening into the east, and at the west end a spence or chauncell from the body of the temple, with hollow wyndings and pillers, whereon stand divers black imagies, fashioned to the shoulders, with their faces looking down the church, and where within their weroances, upon a kind of biere of reedes, lye buryed; and under them, apart, in a vault low in the ground (as a more secrett thing), vailed with a matt, sitts their okeus, an image ill-favouredly carved, all black dressed, with chaynes of perle, the presentment and figure of that god (say the priests unto the laity, and who religiously believe what the priests saie) which doth them all the harme they suffer, be yt in their bodies or goods, within doores or abroad; and true yt is many of them are divers tymes (especyally offendors) shrewdly scratched as they walke alone in the woods, yt may well be by the subtyle spirit, the malitious enemy to mankind, whome, therefore, to pacefie and worke to doe them good (at least no harme) the priests tell them they must do these and these sacrifices unto (them) of these and these things, and thus and thus often, by which meanes not only their owne children, but straungers, are sometimes sacrificed unto him: whilst the great god (the priests tell them) who governes all the world, and makes the sun to shine, creating the moone and stars his companyons, great powers, and which dwell with him, and by whose virtues and influences the under earth is tempered, and brings forth her fruiets according to her seasons, they calling ahone; the good and peaceable god requires no such dutyes, nor needes be sacrificed unto, for he intendeth all good unto them, and will doe noe harme, only the displeased okeus, looking into all men's accions, and examining the same according to the severe scale of justice, punisheth them with sicknesse, beats them, and strikes their ripe corn with blastings, stormes, and thunder clapps, stirrs up warre, and makes their women falce unto them. such is the misery and thraldome under which sathan hath bound these wretched miscreants. i began by calling strachey a plagiary. the reader will now observe that he gives far more than he takes. for example, his account of the temples is much more full than that of smith, and he adds to smith's version the character and being of ahone, as what "the priests tell them". i submit, therefore, that strachey's additions, if valid for temples, are not discredited for ahone, merely because they are inserted in the framework of smith. as far as i understand the matter, smith's map of virginia ( ) is an amended copy, with additions, by smith or another writer of that description, which he sent home to the council of virginia, in november, .( ) to the book of was added a portion of "relations" by different hands, edited by w. s., namely, dr. symonds. strachey's editor, in , regarded w. s. as strachey, and supposed that strachey was the real author of smith's map of virginia, so that, in his historie of travaile, strachey merely took back his own. he did not take back his own; he made use of smith's ms., not yet published, if mr. arber and i rightly date strachey's ms. at - , or - . why strachey acted thus it is possible to conjecture. as a scholar well acquainted with virginia, and as secretary for the colony, he would have access to smith's ms. of among the papers of the council, before its publication. smith professes himself "no scholer".( ) on the other hand, strachey likes to show off his latin and greek. he has a curious, if inaccurate, knowledge of esoteric greek and roman religious antiquities, and in writing of religion aims at a comparative method. strachey, however, took the trouble to copy bits of smith into his own larger work, which he never gave to the printers. ( ) arber, p. . ( ) arber, p. . now as to ahone. it suits my argument to suppose that strachey's account is no less genuine than his description of the temples (illustrated by a picture by john white, who had been in virginia in ), and the account of the great hare of american mythology.( ) this view of a virginian creator, "our chief god" "who takes upon him this shape of a hare," was got, says strachey, "last year, ," from a brother of the potomac king, by a boy named spilman, who says that smith "sold" him to powhattan.( ) in his own brief narrative spelman (or spilman) says nothing about the cosmogonic legend of the great hare. the story came up when captain argoll was telling powhattan's brother the account of creation in genesis ( ). ( ) strachey, p. - . ( ) "spilman's narrative," arber, cx.-cxiv. now strachey's great hare is accepted by mythologists, while ahone is regarded with suspicion. ahone does not happen to suit anthropological ideas, the hare suits them rather better. moreover, and more important, there is abundant corroborative evidence for oke and for the hare, michabo, who, says dr. brinton, "was originally the highest divinity recognised by them, powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world," just like ahone, in fact. and dr. brinton instructs us that michabo originally meant not great hare, but "the spirit of light".( ) thus, originally, the red men adored "the spirit of light, maker of the heavens and the world". strachey claims no more than this for ahone. now, of course, dr. brinton may be right. but i have already expressed my extreme distrust of the philological processes by which he extracts "the great light; spirit of light," from michabo, "beyond a doubt!" in my poor opinion, whatever claims michabo may have as an unique creator of earth and heaven--"god is light,"--he owes his mythical aspect as a hare to something other than an unconscious pun. in any case, according to dr. brinton, michabo, regarded as a creator, is equivalent to strachey's ahone. this amount of corroboration, valeat quantum, i may claim, from the potomac indians, for the belief in ahone on the james river. dr. brinton is notoriously not a believer in american "monotheism".( ) ( ) myths of the new world, p. . ( ) myths of the new world, p. . the opponents of the authenticity of ahone, however, will certainly argue: "for oke, or oki, as a redoubted being or spirit, or general name for such personages, we have plentiful evidence, corroborating that of smith. but what evidence as to ahone corroborates that of strachey?" i must confess that i have no explicit corroborative evidence for ahone, but then i have no accessible library of early books on virginia. now it is clear that if i found and produced evidence for ahone as late as , i would be met at once with the retort that, between and , christian ideas had contaminated the native beliefs. thus if i find ahone, or a deity of like attributes, after a very early date, he is of no use for my purpose. nor do i much expect to find him. but do we find winslow's massachusetts god, kiehtan, named after ("i only ask for information"), and if we don't, does that prevent mr. tylor from citing kiehtan, with apparent reliance on the evidence?( ) ( ) primitive culture, ii. p. . again, ahone, though primal and creative, is, by strachey's account, a sleeping partner. he has no sacrifice, and no temple or idol is recorded. therefore the belief in ahone could only be discovered as a result of inquiry, whereas figures of oke or okeus, and his services, were common and conspicuous.( ) as to oke, i cannot quite understand mr. tylor's attitude. summarising lafitau, a late writer of , mr. tylor writes: "the whole class of spirits or demons, known to the caribs by the name of cemi, in algonkin as manitu, in huron as oki, lafitau now spells with capital letters, and converts them each into a supreme being".( ) yet in primitive culture, ii., , , mr. tylor had cited smith's okee (with a capital letter) as the "chief god" of the virginians in . how can lafitau be said to have elevated oki into oki, and so to have made a god out of "a class of spirits or demons," in , when mr. tylor had already cited smith's okee, with a capital letter and as a "chief god," in ? smith, rebuked for the same by mr. tylor, had even identified okee with the devil. lafitau certainly did not begin this erroneous view of oki as a "chief god" among the virginians. if i cannot to-day produce corroboration for a god named ahone, i can at least show that, from the north of new england to the south of virginia, there is early evidence, cited by mr. tylor, for a belief in a primal creative being, closely analogous to ahone. and this evidence, i think, distinctly proves that such a being as ahone was within the capacity of the indians in these latitudes. mr. tylor must have thought in that the natives were competent to a belief in a supreme deity, for he said, "another famous native american name for the supreme deity is oki".( ) in the essay of , however, oki does not appear to exist as a god's name till . we may now, for earlier evidence, turn to master thomas heriot, "that learned mathematician" "who spoke the indian language," and was with the company which abandoned virginia on th june, . they ranged miles north and miles north-west of roanoke island, which brings them into the neighbourhood of smith's and strachey's country. heriot writes as to the native creeds: "they believe that there are many gods which they call mantoac, but of different sorts and degrees. also that there is one chiefe god that hath beene from all eternitie, who, as they say, when he purposed first to make the world, made first other gods of a principall order, to be as instruments to be used in the creation and government to follow, and after the sunne, moone and starres as pettie gods, and the instruments of the other order more principall.... they thinke that all the gods are of humane shape," and represent them by anthropomorphic idols. an idol, or image, "kewasa" (the plural is "kewasowok"), is placed in the temples, "where they worship, pray and make many offerings". good souls go to be happy with the gods, the bad burn in popogusso, a great pit, "where the sun sets". the evidence for this theory of a future life, as usual, is that of men who died and revived again, a story found in a score of widely separated regions, down to our day, when the death, revival and revelation occurred to the founder of the arapahoe new religion of the ghost dance. the belief "works for righteousness". "the common sort... have great care to avoyde torment after death, and to enjoy blesse," also they have "great respect to their governors". ( ) okee's image, as early as , was borne into battle against smith, who captured the god (arber, p. ). ahone was not thus en evidence. ( ) journal of anthrop. inst., feb., , pp. , . ( ) prim. cult,, ii. p. . this belief in a chief god "from all eternitie" (that is, of unexplained origin), may not be convenient to some speculators, but it exactly corroborates strachey's account of ahone as creator with subordinates. the evidence is of (twenty-six years before strachey), and, like strachey, heriot attributes the whole scheme of belief to "the priestes". "this is the sum of their religion, which i learned by having speciall familiaritie with some of their priests."( ) i see no escape from the conclusion that the virginians believed as heriot says they did, except the device of alleging that they promptly borrowed some of heriot's ideas and maintained that these ideas had ever been their own. heriot certainly did not recognise the identity. "through conversing with us they were brought into great doubts of their owne (religion), and no small admiration of ours; of which many desired to learne more than we had the meanes for want of utterance in their language to expresse." so heriot could not be subtle in the native tongue. heriot did what he could to convert them: "i did my best to make his immortall glory knowne". his efforts were chiefly successful by virtue of the savage admiration of our guns, mathematical instruments, and so forth. these sources of an awakened interest in christianity would vanish with the total destruction and discomfiture of the colony, unless a few captives, later massacred, taught our religion to the natives.( ) ( ) according to strachey, heriot could speak the native language. ( ) heriot's narrative, pp. - . quaritch, london, . i shall cite another early example of a new england deity akin to ahone, with a deputy, a friend of sorcerers, like okee. this account is in smith's general history of new england, - . we sent out a colony in ; "they all returned in the yeere ," esteeming the country "a cold, barren, mountainous rocky desart". i am apt to believe that they did not plant the fructifying seeds of grace among the natives in - . but the missionary efforts of french traders may, of course, have been blessed; nor can i deny that a yellow-haired man, whose corpse was found in with some objects of iron, may have converted the natives to such beliefs as they possessed. we are told, however, that these tenets were of ancestral antiquity. i cite e. winslow, as edited by smith ( - ):-- "those where in this plantation (new plymouth) say kiehtan( ) made all the other gods: also one man and one woman, and with them all mankinde, but how they became so dispersed they know not. they say that at first there was no king but kiehtan, that dwelleth far westerly above the heavens, whither all good men go when they die, and have plentie of all things. the bad go thither also and knock at the door, but ('the door is shut') he bids them go wander in endless want and misery, for they shall not stay there. they never saw kiehtan,( ) but they hold it a great charge and dutie that one race teach another; and to him they make feasts and cry and sing for plenty and victory, or anything that is good. ( ) in mr. tylor regarded dr. brinton's etymology of kiehtan as = kittanitowit = "great living spirit," as "plausible". in his edition of he omits this etymology. personally i entirely distrust the philological theories of the original sense of old divine names as a general rule. ( ) "they never saw kiehtan." so, about , "the common answer of intelligent black fellows on the barwon when asked if they know baiame... is this: 'kamil zaia zummi baiame, zaia winuzgulda'; 'i have not seen baiame, i have heard or perceived him'. if asked who made the sky, the earth, the animals and man, they always answer 'baiame'." daramulun, according to the same authority in lang's queensland, was the familiar of sorcerers, and appeared as a serpent. this answers, as i show, to hobamock the subordinate power to kiehtan in new england and to okee, the familiar of sorcerers in virginia. (ridley, j. a. i., , p. .) "they have another power they call hobamock, which we conceive the devill, and upon him they call to cure their wounds and diseases; when they are curable he persuades them he sent them, because they have displeased him; but, if they be mortal, then he saith, 'kiehtan sent them'; which makes them never call on him in their sickness. they say this hobamock appears to them sometimes like a man, a deer, or an eagle, but most commonly like a snake; not to all but to their powahs to cure diseases, and undeses... and these are such as conjure in virginia, and cause the people to do what they list." winslow (or rather smith editing winslow here), had already said, "they believe, as do the virginians, of many divine powers, yet of one above all the rest, as the southern virginians call their chief god kewassa (an error), and that we now inhabit oke.... the massachusetts call their great god kiehtan."( ) ( ) arber, pp. , . here, then, in heriot ( ), strachey ( - ) and winslow ( ), we find fairly harmonious accounts of a polydaemonism with a chief, primal, creative being above and behind it; a being unnamed, and ahone and kiehtan. is all this invention? or was all this derived from europeans before , and, if so, from what europeans? mr. tylor, in , wrote, "after due allowance made for misrendering of savage answers, and importation of white men's thoughts, it can hardly be judged that a divine being, whose characteristics are often so unlike what european intercourse would have suggested, and who is heard of by such early explorers among such distant tribes, could be a deity of foreign origin". now, he "can hardly be altogether a deity of foreign origin".( ) i agree with mr. tylor's earlier statement. in my opinion ahone--okeus, kiehtan--hobamock, correspond, the first pair to the usually unseen australian baiame (a crystal or hypnotic vision of baiame scarcely counts), while the second pair, okeus and hobamock, answer to the australian familiars of sorcerers, koin and brewin; the american "powers" being those of peoples on a higher level of culture. like tharramulun where baiame is supreme, hobamock appears as a snake (asclepius). ( ) prim. cult., ii. , , . for all these reasons i am inclined to accept strachey's ahone as a veritable element in virginian belief. without temple or service, such a being was not conspicuous, like okee and other gods which had idols and sacrifices. as far as i see, strachey has no theory to serve by inventing ahone. he asks how any races "if descended from the people of the first creation, should maintain so general and gross a defection from the true knowledge of god". he is reduced to suppose that, as descendants of ham, they inherit "the ignorance of true godliness." (p. ). the children of shem and japheth alone "retained, until the coming of the messias, the only knowledge of the eternal and never-changing trinity". the virginians, on the other hand, fell heir to the ignorance, and "fearful and superstitious instinct of nature" of ham (p. ). ahone, therefore, is not invented by strachey to bolster up a theory (held by strachey), of an inherited revelation, or of a sensus numinis which could not go wrong. unless a proof be given that strachey had a theory, or any other purpose, to serve by inventing ahone, i cannot at present come into the opinion that he gratuitously fabled, though he may have unconsciously exaggerated. what were strachey's sources? he was for nine months, if not more, in the colony: he had travelled at least miles up the james river, he occasionally suggests modifications of smith's map, he refers to smith's adventures, and his glossary is very much larger than smith's; its accuracy i leave to american linguists. such a witness, despite his admitted use of smith's text (if it is really all by smith throughout) is not to be despised, and he is not despised in america.( ) strachey, it is true, had not, like smith, been captured by indians and either treated with perfect kindness and consideration (as smith reported at the time), or tied to a tree and threatened with arrows, and laid out to have his head knocked in with a stone; as he alleged sixteen years later! strachey, not being captured, did not owe his release ( ) to the magnanimity of powhattan, ( ) to his own ingenious lies, ( ) to the intercession of pocahontas, as smith, and his friends for him, at various dates inconsistently declared. smith certainly saw more of the natives at home: strachey brought a more studious mind to what he could learn of their customs and ideas; and is not a convicted braggart. i conjecture that one of strachey's sources was a native named kemps. smith had seized kemps and kinsock in . unknown authorities (powell? and todkill?) represent these two savages as "the most exact villaines in the country".( ) they were made to labour in fetters, then were set at liberty, but "little desired it".( ) some "souldiers" ran away to the liberated kemps, who brought them back to smith.( ) why kemps and his friend are called "two of the most exact villains in the country" does not appear. kemps died "of the surveye" (scurvey, probably) at jamestown, in - . he was much made of by lord de la warr, "could speak a pretty deal of our english, and came orderly to church every day to prayers". he gave strachey the names of powhattan's wives, and told him, truly or not, that pocahontas was married, about , to an indian named kocoum.( ) i offer the guess that kemps and machumps, who came and went from pocahontas, and recited an indian prayer which strachey neglected to copy out, may have been among strachey's authorities. i shall, of course, be told that kemps picked up ahone at church. this did not strike strachey as being the fact; he had no opinion of the creed in which ahone was a factor, "the misery and thraldome under which sathan has bound these wretched miscreants". according to strachey, the priests, far from borrowing any part of our faith, "feare and tremble lest the knowledge of god, and of our saviour jesus christ be taught in these parts". ( ) arber, cxvii. strachey mentions that (before his arrival in virginia) pocahontas turned cart-wheels, naked, in jamestown, being then under twelve, and not yet wearing the apron. smith says she was ten in , but does not mention the cart-wheels. later, he found it convenient to put her age at twelve or thirteen in . most american scholars, such as mr. adams, entirely distrust the romantic later narratives of smith. ( ) the proeeedings, etc., by w. s. arber, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) strachey, pp. , . strachey is therefore for putting down the priests, and, like smith (indeed here borrowing from smith), accuses them of sacrificing children. to smith's statement that such a rite was worked at quiyough-cohanock, strachey adds that sir george percy (who was with smith) "was at, and observed" a similar mystery at kecoughtan. it is plain that the rite was not a sacrifice, but a bora, or initiation, and the parallel of the spartan flogging of boys, with the retreat of the boys and their instructors, is very close, and, of course, unnoted by classical scholars except mr. frazer. strachey ends with the critical remark that we shall not know all the certainty of the religion and mysteries till we can capture some of the priests, or quiyough-quisocks. students who have access to a good library of americana may do more to elucidate ahone. i regard him as in a line with kiehtan and the god spoken of by heriot, and do not believe ( ) that strachey lied; ( ) that natives deceived strachey; ( ) that ahone was borrowed from "the god of captain smith". myth, ritual, and religion. chapter i. systems of mythology. definitions of religion--contradictory evidence--"belief in spiritual beings"--objection to mr. tylor's definition--definition as regards this argument--problem: the contradiction between religion and myth--two human moods--examples--case of greece--ancient mythologists--criticism by eusebius--modern mythological systems--mr. max muller--mannhardt. the word "religion" may be, and has been, employed in many different senses, and with a perplexing width of significance. no attempt to define the word is likely to be quite satisfactory, but almost any definition may serve the purpose of an argument, if the writer who employs it states his meaning frankly and adheres to it steadily. an example of the confusions which may arise from the use of the term "religion" is familiar to students. dr. j. d. lang wrote concerning the native races of australia: "they have nothing whatever of the character of religion, or of religious observances, to distinguish them from the beasts that perish". yet in the same book dr. lang published evidence assigning to the natives belief in "turramullun, the chief of demons, who is the author of disease, mischief and wisdom".( ) the belief in a superhuman author of "disease, mischief and wisdom" is certainly a religious belief not conspicuously held by "the beasts"; yet all religion was denied to the australians by the very author who prints (in however erroneous a style) an account of part of their creed. this writer merely inherited the old missionary habit of speaking about the god of a non-christian people as a "demon" or an "evil spirit". ( ) see primitive culture, second edition, i. . dr. lang's negative opinion was contradicted in testimony published by himself, an appendix by the rev. mr. ridley, containing evidence of the belief in baiame. "those who have learned that 'god' is the name by which we speak of the creator, say that baiame is god."( ) ( ) lang's queensland, p. , . as "a minimum definition of religion," mr. tylor has suggested "the belief in spiritual beings". against this it may be urged that, while we have no definite certainty that any race of men is destitute of belief in spiritual beings, yet certain moral and creative deities of low races do not seem to be envisaged as "spiritual" at all. they are regarded as existences, as beings, unconditioned by time, space, or death, and nobody appears to have put the purely metaphysical question, "are these beings spiritual or material?"( ) now, if a race were discovered which believed in such beings, yet had no faith in spirits, that race could not be called irreligious, as it would have to be called in mr. tylor's "minimum definition". almost certainly, no race in this stage of belief in nothing but unconditioned but not expressly spiritual beings is extant. yet such a belief may conceivably have existed before men had developed the theory of spirits at all, and such a belief, in creative and moral unconditioned beings, not alleged to be spiritual, could not be excluded from a definition of religion.( ) ( ) see the making of religion, pp. - . ( ) "the history of the jews, nay, the history of our own mind, proves to demonstration that the thought of god is a far easier thought, and a far earlier, than that of a spirit." father tyrrell, s. j., the month, october, . as to the jews, the question is debated. as to our own infancy, we are certainly taught about god before we are likely to be capable of the metaphysical notion of spirit. but we can scarcely reason from children in christian houses to the infancy of the race. for these reasons we propose (merely for the purpose of the present work) to define religion as the belief in a primal being, a maker, undying, usually moral, without denying that the belief in spiritual beings, even if immoral, may be styled religious. our definition is expressly framed for the purpose of the argument, because that argument endeavours to bring into view the essential conflict between religion and myth. we intend to show that this conflict between the religious and the mythical conception is present, not only (where it has been universally recognised) in the faiths of the ancient civilised peoples, as in greece, rome, india and egypt, but also in the ideas of the lowest known savages. it may, of course, be argued that the belief in creator is itself a myth. however that may be, the attitude of awe, and of moral obedience, in face of such a supposed being, is religious in the sense of the christian religion, whereas the fabrication of fanciful, humorous, and wildly irrational fables about that being, or others, is essentially mythical in the ordinary significance of that word, though not absent from popular christianity. now, the whole crux and puzzle of mythology is, "why, having attained (in whatever way) to a belief in an undying guardian, 'master of life,' did mankind set to work to evolve a chronique scandaleuse about him? and why is that chronique the elaborately absurd set of legends which we find in all mythologies?" in answering, or trying to answer, these questions, we cannot go behind the beliefs of the races now most immersed in savage ignorance. about the psychology of races yet more undeveloped we can have no historical knowledge. among the lowest known tribes we usually find, just as in ancient greece, the belief in a deathless "father," "master," "maker," and also the crowd of humorous, obscene, fanciful myths which are in flagrant contradiction with the religious character of that belief. that belief is what we call rational, and even elevated. the myths, on the other hand, are what we call irrational and debasing. we regard low savages as very irrational and debased characters, consequently the nature of their myths does not surprise us. their religious conception, however, of a "father" or "master of life" seems out of keeping with the nature of the savage mind as we understand it. still, there the religious conception actually is, and it seems to follow that we do not wholly understand the savage mind, or its unknown antecedents. in any case, there the facts are, as shall be demonstrated. however the ancestors of australians, or andamanese, or hurons arrived at their highest religious conception, they decidedly possess it.( ) the development of their mythical conceptions is accounted for by those qualities of their minds which we do understand, and shall illustrate at length. for the present, we can only say that the religious conception uprises from the human intellect in one mood, that of earnest contemplation and submission: while the mythical ideas uprise from another mood, that of playful and erratic fancy. these two moods are conspicuous even in christianity. the former, that of earnest and submissive contemplation, declares itself in prayers, hymns, and "the dim religious light" of cathedrals. the second mood, that of playful and erratic fancy, is conspicuous in the buffoonery of miracle plays, in marchen, these burlesque popular tales about our lord and the apostles, and in the hideous and grotesque sculptures on sacred edifices. the two moods are present, and in conflict, through the whole religious history of the human race. they stand as near each other, and as far apart, as love and lust. ( ) the hypothesis that the conception was borrowed from european creeds will be discussed later. see, too, "are savage gods borrowed from missionaries?" nineteenth century, january, . it will later be shown that even some of the most backward savages make a perhaps half-conscious distinction between their mythology and their religion. as to the former, they are communicative; as to the latter, they jealously guard their secret in sacred mysteries. it is improbable that reflective "black fellows" have been morally shocked by the flagrant contradictions between their religious conceptions and their mythical stories of the divine beings. but human thought could not come into explicit clearness of consciousness without producing the sense of shock and surprise at these contradictions between the religion and the myth of the same god. of this we proceed to give examples. in greece, as early as the sixth century b. c., we are all familiar with xenophanes' poem( ) complaining that the gods were credited with the worst crimes of mortals--in fact, with abominations only known in the orgies of nero and elagabalus. we hear pindar refusing to repeat the tale which told him the blessed were cannibals.( ) in india we read the pious brahmanic attempts to expound decently the myths which made indra the slayer of a brahman; the sinner, that is, of the unpardonable sin. in egypt, too, we study the priestly or philosophic systems by which the clergy strove to strip the burden of absurdity and sacrilege from their own deities. from all these efforts of civilised and pious believers to explain away the stories about their own gods we may infer one fact--the most important to the student of mythology--the fact that myths were not evolved in times of clear civilised thought. it is when greece is just beginning to free her thought from the bondage of too concrete language, when she is striving to coin abstract terms, that her philosophers and poets first find the myths of greece a stumbling-block. ( ) ritter and preller, hist. philos., gothae, , p. . ( ) olympic odes, i., myers's translation: "to me it is impossible to call one of the blessed gods a cannibal.... meet it is for a man that concerning the gods he speak honourably, for the reproach is less. of thee, son of tantalus, i will speak contrariwise to them who have gone before me." in avoiding the story of the cannibal god, however, pindar tells a tale even more offensive to our morality. all early attempts at an interpretation of mythology are so many efforts to explain the myths on some principle which shall seem not unreasonable to men living at the time of the explanation. therefore the pious remonstrances and the forced constructions of early thinkers like xenophanes, of poets like pindar, of all ancient homeric scholars and pagan apologists, from theagenes of rhegium ( b. c.), the early homeric commentator, to porphyry, almost the last of the heathen philosophers, are so many proofs that to greece, as soon as she had a reflective literature, the myths of greece seemed impious and irrational. the essays of the native commentators on the veda, in the same way, are endeavours to put into myths felt to be irrational and impious a meaning which does not offend either piety or reason. we may therefore conclude that it was not men in an early stage of philosophic thought (as philosophy is now understood)--not men like empedocles and heraclitus, nor reasonably devout men like eumaeus, the pious swineherd of the odyssey--who evolved the blasphemous myths of greece, of egypt and of india. we must look elsewhere for an explanation. we must try to discover some actual and demonstrable and widely prevalent condition of the human mind, in which tales that even to remote and rudimentary civilisations appeared irrational and unnatural would seem natural and rational. to discover this intellectual condition has been the aim of all mythologists who did not believe that myth is a divine tradition depraved by human weakness, or a distorted version of historical events. before going further, it is desirable to set forth what our aim is, and to what extent we are seeking an interpretation of mythology. it is not our purpose to explain every detail of every ancient legend, either as a distorted historical fact or as the result of this or that confusion of thought caused by forgetfulness of the meanings of language, or in any other way; nay, we must constantly protest against the excursions of too venturesome ingenuity. myth is so ancient, so complex, so full of elements, that it is vain labour to seek a cause for every phenomenon. we are chiefly occupied with the quest for an historical condition of the human intellect to which the element in myths, regarded by us as irrational, shall seem rational enough. if we can prove that such a state of mind widely exists among men, and has existed, that state of mind may be provisionally considered as the fount and origin of the myths which have always perplexed men in a reasonable modern mental condition. again, if it can be shown that this mental stage was one through which all civilised races have passed, the universality of the mythopoeic mental condition will to some extent explain the universal diffusion of the stories. now, in all mythologies, whether savage or civilised, and in all religions where myths intrude, there exist two factors--the factor which we now regard as rational, and that which we moderns regard as irrational. the former element needs little explanation; the latter has demanded explanation ever since human thought became comparatively instructed and abstract. to take an example; even in the myths of savages there is much that still seems rational and transparent. if savages tell us that some wise being taught them all the simple arts of life, the use of fire, of the bow and arrow, the barbing of hooks, and so forth, we understand them at once. nothing can be more natural than that man should believe in an original inventor of the arts, and should tell tales about the imaginary discoverers if the real heroes be forgotten. so far all is plain sailing. but when the savage goes on to say that he who taught the use of fire or who gave the first marriage laws was a rabbit or a crow, or a dog, or a beaver, or a spider, then we are at once face to face with the element in myths which seems to us irrational. again, among civilised peoples we read of the pure all-seeing varuna in the vedas, to whom sin is an offence. we read of indra, the lord of thunder, borne in his chariot, the giver of victory, the giver of wealth to the pious; here once more all seems natural and plain. the notion of a deity who guides the whirlwind and directs the storm, a god of battles, a god who blesses righteousness, is familiar to us and intelligible; but when we read how indra drank himself drunk and committed adulteries with asura women, and got himself born from the same womb as a bull, and changed himself into a quail or a ram, and suffered from the most abject physical terror, and so forth, then we are among myths no longer readily intelligible; here, we feel, are irrational stories, of which the original ideas, in their natural sense, can hardly have been conceived by men in a pure and rational early civilisation. again, in the religions of even the lowest races, such myths as these are in contradiction with the ethical elements of the faith. if we look at greek religious tradition, we observe the coexistence of the rational and the apparently irrational elements. the rational myths are those which represent the gods as beautiful and wise beings. the artemis of the odyssey "taking her pastime in the chase of boars and swift deer, while with her the wild wood-nymphs disport them, and high over them all she rears her brow, and is easily to be known where all are fair,"( ) is a perfectly rational mythic representation of a divine being. we feel, even now, that the conception of a "queen and goddess, chaste and fair," the abbess, as paul de saint-victor calls her, of the woodlands, is a beautiful and natural fancy, which requires no explanation. on the other hand, the artemis of arcadia, who is confused with the nymph callisto, who, again, is said to have become a she-bear, and later a star; and the brauronian artemis, whose maiden ministers danced a bear-dance,( ) are goddesses whose legend seems unnatural, and needs to be made intelligible. or, again, there is nothing not explicable and natural in the conception of the olympian zeus as represented by the great chryselephantine statue of zeus at olympia, or in the homeric conception of zeus as a god who "turns everywhere his shining eyes, and beholds all things, and protects the righteous, and deals good or evil fortune to men." but the zeus whose grave was shown in crete, or the zeus who played demeter an obscene trick by the aid of a ram, or the zeus who, in the shape of a swan, became the father of castor and pollux, or the zeus who deceived hera by means of a feigned marriage with an inanimate object, or the zeus who was afraid of attes, or the zeus who made love to women in the shape of an ant or a cuckoo, is a being whose myth is felt to be unnatural and bewildering.( ) it is this irrational and unnatural element, as mr. max muller says, "the silly, senseless, and savage element," that makes mythology the puzzle which men have so long found it. for, observe, greek myth does not represent merely a humorous play of fancy, dealing with things religiously sacred as if by way of relief from the strained reverential contemplation of the majesty of zeus. many stories of greek mythology are such as could not cross, for the first time, the mind of a civilised xenophanes or theagenes, even in a dream. this was the real puzzle. ( ) odyssey, vi. . ( ) (greek word omitted); compare harpokration on this word. ( ) these are the features in myth which provoke, for example, the wonder of emeric-david. "the lizard, the wolf, the dog, the ass, the frog, and all the other brutes so common on religious monuments everywhere, do they not all imply a thought which we must divine?" he concludes that these animals, plants, and monsters of myths are so many "enigmas" and "symbols" veiling some deep, sacred idea, allegories of some esoteric religious creed. jupiter, paris, , p. lxxvii. we have offered examples--savage, indian, and greek--of that element in mythology which, as all civilised races have felt, demands explanation. to be still more explicit, we may draw up a brief list of the chief problems in the legendary stories attached to the old religions of the world--the problems which it is our special purpose to notice. first we have, in the myths of all races, the most grotesque conceptions of the character of gods when mythically envisaged. beings who, in religion, leave little to be desired, and are spoken of as holy, immortal, omniscient, and kindly, are, in myth, represented as fashioned in the likeness not only of man, but of the beasts; as subject to death, as ignorant and impious. most pre-christian religions had their "zoomorphic" or partially zoomorphic idols, gods in the shape of the lower animals, or with the heads and necks of the lower animals. in the same way all mythologies represent the gods as fond of appearing in animal forms. under these disguises they conduct many amours, even with the daughters of men, and greek houses were proud of their descent from zeus in the shape of an eagle or ant, a serpent or a swan; while cronus and the vedic tvashtri and poseidon made love as horses, and apollo as a dog. not less wild are the legends about the births of gods from the thigh, or the head, or feet, or armpits of some parent; while tales describing and pictures representing unspeakable divine obscenities were frequent in the mythology and in the temples of greece. once more, the gods were said to possess and exercise the power of turning men and women into birds, beasts, fishes, trees, and stones, so that there was scarcely a familiar natural object in the greek world which had not once (according to legend) been a man or a woman. the myths of the origin of the world and man, again, were in the last degree childish and disgusting. the bushmen and australians have, perhaps, no story of the origin of species quite so barbarous in style as the anecdotes about phanes and prajapati which are preserved in the orphic hymns and in the brahmanas. the conduct of the earlier dynasties of classical gods towards each other was as notoriously cruel and loathsome as their behaviour towards mortals was tricksy and capricious. the classical gods, with all their immortal might, are, by a mythical contradiction of the religious conception, regarded as capable of fear and pain, and are led into scrapes as ludicrous as those of brer wolf or brer terrapin in the tales of the negroes of the southern states of america. the stars, again, in mythology, are mixed up with beasts, planets and men in the same embroglio of fantastic opinion. the dead and the living, men, beasts and gods, trees and stars, and rivers, and sun, and moon, dance through the region of myths in a burlesque ballet of priapus, where everything may be anything, where nature has no laws and imagination no limits. such are the irrational characteristics of myths, classic or indian, european or american, african or asiatic, australian or maori. such is one element we find all the world over among civilised and savage people, quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus. it is no wonder that pious and reflective men have, in so many ages and in so many ways, tried to account to themselves for their possession of beliefs closely connected with religion which yet seemed ruinous to religion and morality. the explanations which men have given of their own sacred stories, the apologies for their own gods which they have been constrained to offer to themselves, were the earliest babblings of a science of mythology. that science was, in its dim beginnings, intended to satisfy a moral need. man found that his gods, when mythically envisaged, were not made in his own moral image at its best, but in the image sometimes of the beasts, sometimes of his own moral nature at its very worst: in the likeness of robbers, wizards, sorcerers, and adulterers. now, it is impossible here to examine minutely all systems of mythological interpretation. every key has been tried in this difficult lock; every cause of confusion has been taken up and tested, deemed adequate, and finally rejected or assigned a subordinate place. probably the first attempts to shake off the burden of religious horror at mythical impiety were made by way of silent omission. thus most of the foulest myths of early india are absent, and presumably were left out, in the rig-veda. "the religious sentiment of the hymns, already so elevated, has discarded most of the tales which offended it, but has not succeeded in discarding them all."( ) just as the poets of the rig-veda prefer to avoid the more offensive traditions about indra and tvashtri, so homer succeeds in avoiding the more grotesque and puerile tales about his own gods.( ) the period of actual apology comes later. pindar declines, as we have seen, to accuse a god of cannibalism. the satapatha brahmana invents a new story about the slaying of visvarupa. not indra, but trita, says the brahmana apologetically, slew the three-headed son of tvashtri. "indra assuredly was free from that sin, for he is a god," says the indian apologist.( ) yet sins which to us appear far more monstrous than the peccadillo of killing a three-headed brahman are attributed freely to indra. ( ) les religions de l'inde, barth, p. . see also postea, "indian myths". ( ) the reasons for homer's reticence are probably different in different passages. perhaps in some cases he had heard a purer version of myth than what reached hesiod; perhaps he sometimes purposely (like pindar) purified a myth; usually he must have selected, in conformity with the noble humanity and purity of his taste, the tales that best conformed to his ideal. he makes his deities reluctant to drag out in dispute old scandals of their early unheroic adventures, some of which, however, he gives, as the kicking of hephaestus out of heaven, and the imprisonment of ares in a vessel of bronze. compare professor jebb's homer, p. : "whatever the instinct of the great artist has tolerated, at least it has purged these things away." that is, divine amours in bestial form. ( ) satapatha brahmana, oxford, , vol. i. p. . while poets could but omit a blasphemous tale or sketch an apology in passing, it became the business of philosophers and of antiquarian writers deliberately to "whitewash" the gods of popular religion. systematic explanations of the sacred stories, whether as preserved in poetry or as told by priests, had to be provided. india had her etymological and her legendary school of mythology.( ) thus, while the hymn seemed to tell how the maruts were gods, "born together with the spotted deer," the etymological interpreters explained that the word for deer only meant the many-coloured lines of clouds.( ) in the armoury of apologetics etymology has been the most serviceable weapon. it is easy to see that by aid of etymology the most repulsive legend may be compelled to yield a pure or harmless sense, and may be explained as an innocent blunder, caused by mere verbal misunderstanding. brahmans, greeks, and germans have equally found comfort in this hypothesis. in the cratylus of plato, socrates speaks of the notion of explaining myths by etymological guesses at the meaning of divine names as "a philosophy which came to him all in an instant". thus we find socrates shocked by the irreverence which styled zeus the son of cronus, "who is a proverb for stupidity". but on examining philologically the name kronos, socrates decides that it must really mean koros, "not in the sense of a youth, but signifying the pure and garnished mind". therefore, when people first called zeus the son of cronus, they meant nothing irreverent, but only that zeus is the child of the pure mind or pure reason. not only is this etymological system most pious and consolatory, but it is, as socrates adds, of universal application. "for now i bethink me of a very new and ingenious notion,... that we may put in and pull out letters at pleasure, and alter the accents."( ) ( ) rig-veda sanhita. max muller, p. . ( ) postea, "indian divine myths". ( ) jowett's plato, vol. i. pp. , . socrates, of course, speaks more than half in irony, but there is a certain truth in his account of etymological analysis and its dependence on individual tastes and preconceived theory. the ancient classical schools of mythological interpretation, though unscientific and unsuccessful, are not without interest. we find philosophers and grammarians looking, just as we ourselves are looking, for some condition of the human intellect out of which the absurd element in myths might conceivably have sprung. very naturally the philosophers supposed that the human beings in whose brain and speech myths had their origin must have been philosophers like themselves--intelligent, educated persons. but such persons, they argued, could never have meant to tell stories about the gods so full of nonsense and blasphemy. therefore the nonsense and blasphemy must originally have had some harmless, or even praiseworthy, sense. what could that sense have been? this question each ancient mythologist answered in accordance with his own taste and prejudices, and above all, and like all other and later speculators, in harmony with the general tendency of his own studies. if he lived when physical speculation was coming into fashion, as in the age of empedocles, he thought that the homeric poems must contain a veiled account of physical philosophy. this was the opinion of theagenes of rhegium, who wrote at a period when a crude physicism was disengaging itself from the earlier religious and mythical cosmogonic systems of greece. theagenes was shocked by the homeric description of the battle in which the gods fought as allies of the achaeans and trojans. he therefore explained away the affair as a veiled account of the strife of the elements. such "strife" was familiar to readers of the physical speculations of empedocles and of heraclitus, who blamed homer for his prayer against strife.( ) ( ) is. et osir., . it did not occur to theagenes to ask whether any evidence existed to show that the pre-homeric greeks were empedoclean or heraclitean philosophers. he readily proved to himself that apollo, helios, and hephaestus were allegorical representations, like what such philosophers would feign,--of fire, that hera was air, poseidon water, artemis the moon, and the rest he disposed of in the same fashion.( ) ( ) scholia on iliad, xx. . dindorf ( ), vol. iv. p. . "this manner of apologetics is as old as theagenes of rhegium. homer offers theological doctrine in the guise of physical allegory." metrodorus, again, turned not only the gods, but the homeric heroes into "elemental combinations and physical agencies"; for there is nothing new in the mythological philosophy recently popular, which saw the sun, and the cloud, and the wind in achilles, athene, and hermes.( ) ( ) grote, hist, of greece, ed. , i. p. . in the bacchae ( - ), euripides puts another of the mythological systems of his own time into the mouth of cadmus, the theban king, who advances a philological explanation of the story that dionysus was sewn up in the thigh of zeus. the most famous of the later theories was that of euhemerus ( b.c.). in a kind of philosophical romance, euhemerus declared that he had sailed to some no-man's-land, panchaea, where he found the verity about mythical times engraved on pillars of bronze. this truth he published in the sacra historia, where he rationalised the fables, averring that the gods had been men, and that the myths were exaggerated and distorted records of facts. (see eusebius, praep. e., ii .) the abbe banier (la mythologie expliquee par l'histoire, paris, , vol. ii. p. ) attempts the defence of euhemerus, whom most of the ancients regarded as an atheist. there was an element of truth in his romantic hypothesis.( ) ( ) see block, euhemere et sa doctrine, mons, . sometimes the old stories were said to conceal a moral, sometimes a physical, sometimes a mystical or neo-platonic sort of meaning. as every apologist interpreted the legends in his own fashion, the interpretations usually disagreed and killed each other. just as one modern mythologist sees the wind in aeetes and the dawn in medea, while another of the same school believes, on equally good evidence, that both aeetes and medea are the moon, so writers like porphyry ( a. d.) and plutarch ( a. d.) made the ancient deities types of their own favourite doctrines, whatever these might happen to be. when christianity became powerful, the christian writers naturally attacked heathen religion where it was most vulnerable, on the side of the myths, and of the mysteries which were dramatic representations of the myths. "pretty gods you worship," said the fathers, in effect, "homicides, adulterers, bulls, bears, mice, ants, and what not." the heathen apologists for the old religion were thus driven in the early ages of christianity to various methods of explaining away the myths of their discredited religion. the early christian writers very easily, and with considerable argumentative power, disposed of the apologies for the myths advanced by porphyry and plutarch. thus eusebius in the praeparatio evangelica first attacks the egyptian interpretations of their own bestial or semi-bestial gods. he shows that the various interpretations destroy each other, and goes on to point out that greek myth is in essence only a veneered and varnished version of the faith of egypt. he ridicules, with a good deal of humour, the old theories which resolved so many mythical heroes into the sun; he shows that while one system is contented to regard zeus as mere fire and air, another system recognises in him the higher reason, while heracles, dionysus, apollo, and asclepius, father and child, are all indifferently the sun. granting that the myth-makers were only constructing physical allegories, why did they wrap them up, asks eusebius, in what we consider abominable fictions? in what state were the people who could not look at the pure processes of nature without being reminded of the most hideous and unnatural offences? once more: "the physical interpreters do not even agree in their physical interpretations". all these are equally facile, equally plausible, and equally incapable of proof. again, eusebius argues, the interpreters take for granted in the makers of the myths an amount of physical knowledge which they certainly did not possess. for example, if leto were only another name for hera, the character of zeus would be cleared as far as his amour with leto is concerned. now, the ancient believers in the "physical phenomena theory" of myths made out that hera, the wife of zeus, was really the same person under another name as leto, his mistress. "for hera is the earth" (they said at other times that hera was the air), "and leto is the night; but night is only the shadow of the earth, and therefore leto is only the shadow of hera." it was easy, however, to prove that this scientific view of night as the shadow of earth was not likely to be known to myth-makers, who regarded "swift night" as an actual person. plutarch, too, had an abstruse theory to explain the legend about the dummy wife,--a log of oak-wood, which zeus pretended to marry when at variance with hera.( ) ( ) pausanias, ix. . this quarrel, he said, was merely the confusion and strife of elements. zeus was heat, hera was cold (she had already been explained as earth and air), the dummy wife of oak-wood was a tree that emerged after a flood, and so forth. of course, there was no evidence that mythopoeic men held plutarchian theories of heat and cold and the conflict of the elements; besides, as eusebius pointed out, hera had already been defined once as an allegory of wedded life, and once as the earth, and again as the air, and it was rather too late to assert that she was also the cold and watery element in the world. as for his own explanation of the myths, eusebius holds that they descend from a period when men in their lawless barbarism knew no better than to tell such tales. "ancient folk, in the exceeding savagery of their lives, made no account of god, the universal creator (here eusebius is probably wrong)... but betook them to all manner of abominations. for the laws of decent existence were not yet established, nor was any settled and peaceful state ordained among men, but only a loose and savage fashion of wandering life, while, as beasts irrational, they cared for no more than to fill their bellies, being in a manner without god in the world." growing a little more civilised, men, according to eusebius, sought after something divine, which they found in the heavenly bodies. later, they fell to worshipping living persons, especially "medicine men" and conjurors, and continued to worship them even after their decease, so that greek temples are really tombs of the dead.( ) finally, the civilised ancients, with a conservative reluctance to abandon their old myths (greek text omitted), invented for them moral or physical explanations, like those of plutarch and others, earlier and later.( ) ( ) praep. e., ii. . ( ) ibid., , . as eusebius, like clemens of alexandria, arnobius, and the other early christian disputants, had no prejudice in favour of hellenic mythology, and no sentimental reason for wishing to suppose that the origin of its impurities was pure, he found his way almost to the theory of the irrational element in mythology which we propose to offer. even to sketch the history of mythological hypothesis in modern times would require a book to itself. it must suffice here to indicate the various lines which speculation as to mythology has pursued. all interpretations of myth have been formed in accordance with the ideas prevalent in the time of the interpreters. the early greek physicists thought that mythopoeic men had been physicists. aristotle hints that they were (like himself) political philosophers.( ) neo-platonists sought in the myths for neo-platonism; most christians (unlike eusebius) either sided with euhemerus, or found in myth the inventions of devils, or a tarnished and distorted memory of the biblical revelation. ( ) met., xi. , . this was the theory, for example, of good old jacob bryant, who saw everywhere memories of the noachian deluge and proofs of the correctness of old testament ethnology.( ) ( ) bryant, a new system, wherein an attempt is made to divest tradition of fable, . much the same attempt to find the biblical truth at the bottom of savage and ancient fable has been recently made by the late m. lenormant, a catholic scholar.( ) ( ) les origines de l'histoire d'apres le bible, - . in the beginning of the present century germany turned her attention to mythology. as usual, men's ideas were biassed by the general nature of their opinions. in a pious kind of spirit, friedrich creuzer sought to find symbols of some pure, early, and oriental theosophy in the myths and mysteries of greece. certainly the greeks of the philosophical period explained their own myths as symbols of higher things, but the explanation was an after-thought.( ) the great lobeck, in his aglaophamus ( ), brought back common sense, and made it the guide of his vast, his unequalled learning. in a gentler and more genial spirit, c. otfried muller laid the foundation of a truly scientific and historical mythology.( ) neither of these writers had, like alfred maury,( ) much knowledge of the myths and faiths of the lower races, but they often seem on the point of anticipating the ethnological method. ( ) creuzer, symbolik und mythologie, d edit., leipzig, - . ( ) introduction to a scientific system of mythology, english trans., london, . ( ) histoire des religions de la grece antique, paris, . when philological science in our own century came to maturity, in philology, as of old in physics and later in symbols, was sought the key of myths. while physical allegory, religious and esoteric symbolism, verbal confusion, historical legend, and an original divine tradition, perverted in ages of darkness, have been the most popular keys in other ages, the scientific nineteenth century has had a philological key of its own. the methods of kuhn, breal, max muller, and generally the philological method, cannot be examined here at full length.( ) briefly speaking, the modern philological method is intended for a scientific application of the old etymological interpretations. cadmus in the bacchae of euripides, socrates in the cratylus of plato, dismiss unpalatable myths as the results of verbal confusion. people had originally said something quite sensible--so the hypothesis runs--but when their descendants forgot the meaning of their remarks, a new and absurd meaning followed from a series of unconscious puns.( ) this view was supported in ancient times by purely conjectural and impossible etymologies. thus the myth that dionysus was sewn up in the thigh of zeus (greek text omitted) was explained by euripides as the result of a confusion of words. people had originally said that zeus gave a pledge (greek text omitted) to hera. the modern philological school relies for explanations of untoward and other myths on similar confusions. thus daphne is said to have been originally not a girl of romance, but the dawn (sanskirt, dahana: ahana) pursued by the rising sun. but as the original aryan sense of dahana or ahana was lost, and as daphne came to mean the laurel--the wood which burns easily--the fable arose that the tree had been a girl called daphne.( ) ( ) see mythology in encyclop. brit. and in la mythologie (a. l.), paris, , where mr. max muller's system is criticised. see also custom and myth and modern mythology. ( ) that a considerable number of myths, chiefly myths of place names, arise from popular etymologies is certain: what is objected to is the vast proportion given to this element in myths. ( ) max muller, nineteenth century, december, ; "solar myths," january, ; myths and mythologists (a. l). whitney, mannhardt, bergaigne, and others dispute the etymology. or. and ling. studies, , p. ; mannhardt, antike wald und feld kultus (berlin, ), p. xx.; bergaigne, la religion vedique, iii. ; nor does curtius like it much, principles of greek etymology, english trans., ii. , ; modern mythology (a. l.), . this system chiefly rests on comparison between the sanskrit names in the rig-veda and the mythic names in greek, german, slavonic, and other aryan legends. the attempt is made to prove that, in the common speech of the undivided aryan race, many words for splendid or glowing natural phenomena existed, and that natural processes were described in a figurative style. as the various aryan families separated, the sense of the old words and names became dim, the nomina developed into numina, the names into gods, the descriptions of elemental processes into myths. as this system has already been criticised by us elsewhere with minute attention, a reference to these reviews must suffice in this place. briefly, it may be stated that the various masters of the school--kuhn, max muller, roth, schwartz, and the rest--rarely agree where agreement is essential, that is, in the philological foundations of their building. they differ in very many of the etymological analyses of mythical names. they also differ in the interpretations they put on the names, kuhn almost invariably seeing fire, storm, cloud, or lightning where mr. max muller sees the chaste dawn. thus mannhardt, after having been a disciple, is obliged to say that comparative indo-germanic mythology has not borne the fruit expected, and that "the certain gains of the system reduce themselves to the scantiest list of parallels, such as dyaus = zeus = tius, parjanya = perkunas, bhaga = bog, varuna = uranos" (a position much disputed), etc. mannhardt adds his belief that a number of other "equations"--such as sarameya = hermeias, saranyus = demeter erinnys, kentauros = gandharva, and many others--will not stand criticism, and he fears that these ingenious guesses will prove mere jeux d'esprit rather than actual facts.( ) many examples of the precarious and contradictory character of the results of philological mythology, many instances of "dubious etymologies," false logic, leaps at foregone conclusions, and attempts to make what is peculiarly indian in thought into matter of universal application, will meet us in the chapters on indian and greek divine legends.( ) "the method in its practical working shows a fundamental lack of the historical sense," says mannhardt. examples are torn from their contexts, he observes; historical evolution is neglected; passages of the veda, themselves totally obscure, are dragged forward to account for obscure greek mythical phenomena. such are the accusations brought by the regretted mannhardt against the school to which he originally belonged, and which was popular and all-powerful even in the maturity of his own more clear-sighted genius. proofs of the correctness of his criticism will be offered abundantly in the course of this work. it will become evident that, great as are the acquisitions of philology, her least certain discoveries have been too hastily applied in alien "matter," that is, in the region of myth. not that philology is wholly without place or part in the investigation of myth, when there is agreement among philologists as to the meaning of a divine name. in that case a certain amount of light is thrown on the legend of the bearer of the name, and on its origin and first home, aryan, greek, semitic, or the like. but how rare is agreement among philologists! ( ) baum und feld kultus, p. xvii. kuhn's "epoch-making" book is die herabkunft des feuers, berlin, . by way of example of the disputes as to the original meaning of a name like prometheus, compare memoires de la societe de linguistique de paris, t. iv. p. . ( ) see especially mannhardt's note on kuhn's theories of poseidon and hermes, b. u. f. k., pp. xviii., xix., note . "the philological method," says professor tiele,( ) "is inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of discovering the origin of a myth, or the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or of accounting for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races. but these are not the only problems of mythology. there is, for example, the question of the genealogical relations of myths, where we have to determine whether the myths of peoples whose speech is of the same family are special modifications of a mythology once common to the race whence these peoples have sprung. the philological method alone can answer here." but this will seem a very limited province when we find that almost all races, however remote and unconnected in speech, have practically much the same myths. ( ) rev. de l'hist. des rel., xii. , , nov., dec., . chapter ii. new system proposed. chap. i. recapitulated--proposal of a new method: science of comparative or historical study of man--anticipated in part by eusebius, fontenelle, de brosses, spencer (of c. c. c., cambridge), and mannhardt--science of tylor--object of inquiry: to find condition of human intellect in which marvels of myth are parts of practical everyday belief--this is the savage state--savages described--the wild element of myth a survival from the savage state--advantages of this method--partly accounts for wide diffusion as well as origin of myths--connected with general theory of evolution--puzzling example of myth of the water-swallower--professor tiele's criticism of the method--objections to method, and answer to these--see appendix b. the past systems of mythological interpretation have been briefly sketched. it has been shown that the practical need for a reconciliation between religion and morality on one side, and the myths about the gods on the other, produced the hypotheses of theagenes and metrodorus, of socrates and euemerus, of aristotle and plutarch. it has been shown that in each case the reconcilers argued on the basis of their own ideas and of the philosophies of their time. the early physicist thought that myth concealed a physical philosophy; the early etymologist saw in it a confusion of language; the early political speculator supposed that myth was an invention of legislators; the literary euhemerus found the secret of myths in the course of an imaginary voyage to a fabled island. then came the moment of the christian attacks, and pagan philosophers, touched with oriental pantheism, recognised in myths certain pantheistic symbols and a cryptic revelation of their own neo-platonism. when the gods were dead and their altars fallen, then antiquaries brought their curiosity to the problem of explaining myth. christians recognised in it a depraved version of the jewish sacred writings, and found the ark on every mountain-top of greece. the critical nineteenth century brought in, with otfried muller and lobeck, a closer analysis; and finally, in the sudden rise of comparative philology, it chanced that philologists annexed the domain of myths. each of these systems had its own amount of truth, but each certainly failed to unravel the whole web of tradition and of foolish faith. meantime a new science has come into existence, the science which studies man in the sum of all his works and thoughts, as evolved through the whole process of his development. this science, comparative anthropology, examines the development of law out of custom; the development of weapons from the stick or stone to the latest repeating rifle; the development of society from the horde to the nation. it is a study which does not despise the most backward nor degraded tribe, nor neglect the most civilised, and it frequently finds in australians or nootkas the germ of ideas and institutions which greeks or romans brought to perfection, or retained, little altered from their early rudeness, in the midst of civilisation. it is inevitable that this science should also try its hand on mythology. our purpose is to employ the anthropological method--the study of the evolution of ideas, from the savage to the barbarous, and thence to the civilised stage--in the province of myth, ritual, and religion. it has been shown that the light of this method had dawned on eusebius in his polemic with the heathen apologists. spencer, the head of corpus, cambridge ( - ), had really no other scheme in his mind in his erudite work on hebrew ritual.( ) spencer was a student of man's religions generally, and he came to the conclusion that hebrew ritual was but an expurgated, and, so to speak, divinely "licensed" adaptation of heathen customs at large. we do but follow his guidance on less perilous ground when we seek for the original forms of classical rite and myth in the parallel usages and legends of the most backward races. ( ) de legibus hebraeorum ritualibus, tubingae, . fontenelle in the last century, stated, with all the clearness of the french intellect, the system which is partially worked out in this essay--the system which explains the irrational element in myth as inherited from savagery. fontenelle's paper (sur l'origine des fables) is brief, sensible, and witty, and requires little but copious evidence to make it adequate. but he merely threw out the idea, and left it to be neglected.( ) ( ) see appendix a., fontenelle's origine des fables. among other founders of the anthropological or historical school of mythology, de brosses should not be forgotten. in his dieux fetiches ( ) he follows the path which eusebius indicated--the path of spencer and fontenelle--now the beaten road of tylor and m'lennan and mannhardt. in anthropology, in the science of waitz, tylor, and m'lennan, in the examination of man's faith in the light of his social, legal, and historical conditions generally, we find, with mannhardt, some of the keys of myth. this science "makes it manifest that the different stages through which humanity has passed in its intellectual evolution have still their living representatives among various existing races. the study of these lower races is an invaluable instrument for the interpretation of the survivals from earlier stages, which we meet in the full civilisation of cultivated peoples, but whose origins were in the remotest fetichism and savagery."( ) ( ) mannhardt op. cit. p. xxiii. it is by following this road, and by the aid of anthropology and of human history, that we propose to seek for a demonstrably actual condition of the human intellect, whereof the puzzling qualities of myth would be the natural and inevitable fruit. in all the earlier theories which we have sketched, inquirers took it for granted that the myth-makers were men with philosophic and moral ideas like their own--ideas which, from some reason of religion or state, they expressed in bizarre terms of allegory. we shall attempt, on the other hand, to prove that the human mind has passed through a condition quite unlike that of civilised men--a condition in which things seemed natural and rational that now appear unnatural and devoid of reason, and in which, therefore, if myths were evolved, they would, if they survived into civilisation, be such as civilised men find strange and perplexing. our first question will be, is there a stage of human society and of the human intellect in which facts that appear to us to be monstrous and irrational--facts corresponding to the wilder incidents of myth--are accepted as ordinary occurrences of everyday life? in the region of romantic rather than of mythical invention we know that there is such a state. mr. lane, in his preface to the arabian nights, says that the arabs have an advantage over us as story-tellers. they can introduce such incidents as the change of a man into a horse, or of a woman into a dog, or the intervention of an afreet without any more scruple than our own novelists feel in describing a duel or the concealment of a will. among the arabs the agencies of magic and of spirits are regarded as at least as probable and common as duels and concealments of wills seem to be thought by european novelists. it is obvious that we need look no farther for the explanation of the supernatural events in arab romances. now, let us apply this system to mythology. it is admitted that greeks, romans, aryans of india in the age of the sanskrit commentators, and egyptians of the ptolemaic and earlier ages, were as much puzzled as we are by the mythical adventures of their gods. but is there any known stage of the human intellect in which similar adventures, and the metamorphoses of men into animals, trees, stars, and all else that puzzles us in the civilised mythologies, are regarded as possible incidents of daily human life? our answer is, that everything in the civilised mythologies which we regard as irrational seems only part of the accepted and natural order of things to contemporary savages, and in the past seemed equally rational and natural to savages concerning whom we have historical information.( ) our theory is, therefore, that the savage and senseless element in mythology is, for the most part, a legacy from the fancy of ancestors of the civilised races who were once in an intellectual state not higher, but probably lower, than that of australians, bush-men, red indians, the lower races of south america, and other worse than barbaric peoples. as the ancestors of the greeks, aryans of india, egyptians and others advanced in civilisation, their religious thought was shocked and surprised by myths (originally dating from the period of savagery, and natural in that period, though even then often in contradiction to morals and religion) which were preserved down to the time of pausanias by local priesthoods, or which were stereotyped in the ancient poems of hesiod and homer, or in the brahmanas and vedas of india, or were retained in the popular religion of egypt. this theory recommended itself to lobeck. "we may believe that ancient and early tribes framed gods like unto themselves in action and in experience, and that the allegorical softening down of myths is the explanation added later by descendants who had attained to purer ideas of divinity, yet dared not reject the religion of their ancestors."( ) the senseless element in the myths would, by this theory, be for the most part a "survival"; and the age and condition of human thought whence it survived would be one in which our most ordinary ideas about the nature of things and the limits of possibility did not yet exist, when all things were conceived of in quite other fashion; the age, that is, of savagery. ( ) we have been asked to define a savage. he cannot be defined in an epigram, but by way of choice of a type:-- . in material equipment the perfect savage is he who employs tools of stone and wood, not of metal; who is nomadic rather than settled; who is acquainted (if at all) only with the rudest forms of the arts of potting, weaving, fire-making, etc.; and who derives more of his food from the chase and from wild roots and plants than from any kind of agriculture or from the flesh of domesticated animals. . in psychology the savage is he who (extending unconsciously to the universe his own implicit consciousness of personality) regards all natural objects as animated and intelligent beings, and, drawing no hard and fast line between himself and the things in the world, is readily persuaded that men may be metamorphosed into plants, beasts and stars; that winds and clouds, sun and dawn, are persons with human passions and parts; and that the lower animals especially may be creatures more powerful than himself, and, in a sense, divine and creative. . in religion the savage is he who (while often, in certain moods, conscious of a far higher moral faith) believes also in ancestral ghosts or spirits of woods and wells that were never ancestral; prays frequently by dint of magic; and sometimes adores inanimate objects, or even appeals to the beasts as supernatural protectors. . in society the savage is he who (as a rule) bases his laws on the well-defined lines of totemism--that is, claims descent from or other close relation to natural objects, and derives from the sacredness of those objects the sanction of his marriage prohibitions and blood-feuds, while he makes skill in magic a claim to distinguished rank. such, for our purpose, is the savage, and we propose to explain the more "senseless" factors in civilised mythology as "survivals" of these ideas and customs preserved by conservatism and local tradition, or, less probably, borrowed from races which were, or had been, savage. ( ) aglaoph., i. . had lobeck gone a step farther and examined the mental condition of veteres et priscae gentes, this book would have been, superfluous. nor did he know that the purer ideas were also existing among certain low savages. it is universally admitted that "survivals" of this kind do account for many anomalies in our institutions, in law, politics, society, even in dress and manners. if isolated fragments of earlier ages abide in these, it is still more probable that other fragments will survive in anything so closely connected as is mythology with the conservative religious sentiment and tradition. our object, then, is to prove that the "silly, savage, and irrational" element in the myths of civilised peoples is, as a rule, either a survival from the period of savagery, or has been borrowed from savage neighbours by a cultivated people, or, lastly, is an imitation by later poets of old savage data.( ) for example, to explain the constellations as metamorphosed men, animals, or other objects of terrestrial life is the habit of savages,( )--a natural habit among people who regard all things as on one level of personal life and intelligence. when the stars, among civilised greeks or aryans of india, are also popularly regarded as transformed and transfigured men, animals and the like, this belief may be either a survival from the age when the ancestors of greeks and indians were in the intellectual condition of the australian murri; or the star-name and star-myth may have been borrowed from savages, or from cultivated peoples once savage or apt to copy savages; or, as in the case of the coma berenices, a poet of a late age may have invented a new artificial myth on the old lines of savage fancy. ( ) we may be asked why do savages entertain the irrational ideas which survive in myth? one might as well ask why they eat each other, or use stones instead of metal. their intellectual powers are not fully developed, and hasty analogy from their own unreasoned consciousness is their chief guide. myth, in mr. darwin's phrase, is one of the "miserable and indirect consequences of our highest faculties". descent of man, p. . ( ) see custom and myth, "star-myths". this method of interpreting a certain element in mythology is, we must repeat, no new thing, though, to judge from the protests of several mythologists, it is new to many inquirers. we have seen that eusebius threw out proposals in this direction; that spencer, de brosses, and fontenelle unconsciously followed him; and we have quoted from lobeck a statement of a similar opinion. the whole matter has been stated as clearly as possible by mr. b. b. tylor:-- "savages have been for untold ages, and still are, living in the myth-making stage of the human mind. it was through sheer ignorance and neglect of this direct knowledge how and by what manner of men myths are really made that their simple philosophy has come to be buried under masses of commentator's rubbish..."( ) mr. tylor goes on thus (and his words contain the gist of our argument): "the general thesis maintained is that myth arose in the savage condition prevalent in remote ages among the whole human race; that it remains comparatively unchanged among the rude modern tribes who have departed least from these primitive conditions, while higher and later civilisations, partly by retaining its actual principles, and partly by carrying on its inherited results in the form of ancestral tradition, continued it not merely in toleration, but in honour".( ) elsewhere mr. tylor points out that by this method of interpretation we may study myths in various stages of evolution, from the rude guess of the savage at an explanation of natural phenomena, through the systems of the higher barbarisms, or lower civilisations (as in ancient mexico), and the sacerdotage of india, till myth reaches its most human form in greece. yet even in greek myth the beast is not wholly cast out, and hellas by no means "let the ape and tiger die". that mr. tylor does not exclude the aryan race from his general theory is plain enough.( ) "what is the aryan conception of the thunder-god but a poetic elaboration of thoughts inherited from the savage stage through which the primitive aryans had passed?"( ) ( ) primitive culture, nd edit., i. p. . ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) primitive culture, nd edit., ii. . ( ) pretty much the same view seems to be taken by mr. max muller (nineteenth century, january, ) when he calls tsui goab (whom the hottentots believe to be a defunct conjuror) "a hottentot indra or zeus". the advantages of our hypothesis (if its legitimacy be admitted) are obvious. in the first place, we have to deal with an actual demonstrable condition of the human intellect. the existence of the savage state in all its various degrees, and of the common intellectual habits and conditions which are shared by the backward peoples, and again the survival of many of these in civilisation, are indubitable facts. we are not obliged to fall back upon some fanciful and unsupported theory of what "primitive man" did, and said, and thought. nay, more; we escape all the fallacies connected with the terms "primitive man". we are not compelled (as will be shown later)( ) to prove that the first men of all were like modern savages, nor that savages represent primitive man. it may be that the lowest extant savages are the nearest of existing peoples to the type of the first human beings. but on this point it is unnecessary for us to dogmatise. if we can show that, whether men began their career as savages or not, they have at least passed through the savage status or have borrowed the ideas of races in the savage status, that is all we need. we escape from all the snares of theories (incapable of historical proof) about the really primeval and original condition of the human family. ( ) appendix b. once more, our theory naturally attaches itself to the general system of evolution. we are enabled to examine mythology as a thing of gradual development and of slow and manifold modifications, corresponding in some degree to the various changes in the general progress of society. thus we shall watch the barbaric conditions of thought which produce barbaric myths, while these in their turn are retained, or perhaps purified, or perhaps explained away, by more advanced civilisations. further, we shall be able to detect the survival of the savage ideas with least modification, and the persistence of the savage myths with least change, among the classes of a civilised population which have shared least in the general advance. these classes are, first, the rustic peoples, dwelling far from cities and schools, on heaths or by the sea; second, the conservative local priesthoods, who retain the more crude and ancient myths of the local gods and heroes after these have been modified or rejected by the purer sense of philosophers and national poets. thus much of ancient myth is a woven warp and woof of three threads: the savage donnee, the civilised and poetic modification of the savage donnee, the version of the original fable which survives in popular tales and in the "sacred chapters" of local priesthoods. a critical study of these three stages in myth is in accordance with the recognised practice of science. indeed, the whole system is only an application to this particular province, mythology, of the method by which the development either of organisms or of human institutions is traced. as the anomalies and apparently useless and accidental features in the human or in other animal organisms may be explained as stunted or rudimentary survivals of organs useful in a previous stage of life, so the anomalous and irrational myths of civilised races may be explained as survivals of stories which, in an earlier state of thought and knowledge, seemed natural enough. the persistence of the myths is accounted for by the well-known conservatism of the religious sentiment--a conservatism noticed even by eusebius. "in later days, when they became ashamed of the religious beliefs of their ancestors, they invented private and respectful interpretations, each to suit himself. for no one dared to shake the ancestral beliefs, as they honoured at a very high rate the sacredness and antiquity of old associations, and of the teaching they had received in childhood."( ) ( ) praep. e., ii. , . thus the method which we propose to employ is in harmony both with modern scientific procedure and with the views of a clear-sighted father of the church. consequently no system could well be less "heretical" and "unorthodox". the last advantage of our hypothesis which need here be mentioned is that it helps to explain the diffusion no less than the origin of the wild and crazy element in myth. we seek for the origin of the savage factor of myth in one aspect of the intellectual condition of savages. we say "in one aspect" expressly; to guard against the suggestion that the savage intellect has no aspect but this, and no saner ideas than those of myth. the diffusion of stories practically identical in every quarter of the globe may be (provisionally) regarded as the result of the prevalence in every quarter, at one time or another, of similar mental habits and ideas. this explanation must not be pressed too hard nor too far. if we find all over the world a belief that men can change themselves and their neighbours into beasts, that belief will account for the appearance of metamorphosis in myth. if we find a belief that inanimate objects are really much on a level with man, the opinion will account for incidents of myth such as that in which the wooden figure-head of the argo speaks with a human voice. again, a widespread belief in the separability of the soul or the life from the body will account for the incident in nursery tales and myths of the "giant who had no heart in his body," but kept his heart and life elsewhere. an ancient identity of mental status and the working of similar mental forces at the attempt to explain the same phenomena will account, without any theory of borrowing, or transmission of myth, or of original unity of race, for the world-wide diffusion of many mythical conceptions. but this theory of the original similarity of the savage mind everywhere and in all races will scarcely account for the world-wide distribution of long and intricate mythical plots, of consecutive series of adroitly interwoven situations. in presence of these long romances, found among so many widely severed peoples, conjecture is, at present, almost idle. we do not know, in many instances, whether such stories were independently developed, or carried from a common centre, or borrowed by one race from another, and so handed on round the world. this chapter may conclude with an example of a tale whose diffusion may be explained in divers ways, though its origin seems undoubtedly savage. if we turn to the algonkins, a stock of red indians, we come on a popular tradition which really does give pause to the mythologist. could this story, he asks himself, have been separately invented in widely different places, or could the iroquois have borrowed from the australian blacks or the andaman islanders? it is a common thing in most mythologies to find everything of value to man--fire, sun, water--in the keeping of some hostile power. the fire, or the sun, or the water is then stolen, or in other ways rescued from the enemy and restored to humanity. the huron story (as far as water is concerned) is told by father paul le jeune, a jesuit missionary, who lived among the hurons about . the myth begins with the usual opposition between two brothers, the cain and abel of savage legend. one of the brothers, named ioskeha, slew the other, and became the father of mankind (as known to the red indians) and the guardian of the iroquois. the earth was at first arid and sterile, but ioskeha destroyed the gigantic frog which had swallowed all the waters, and guided the torrents into smooth streams and lakes.( ) ( ) relations de la nouvelle france, , p. (paris, cramoisy, ). now where, outside of north america, do we find this frog who swallowed all the water? we find him in australia. "the aborigines of lake tyers," remarks mr. brough smyth, "say that at one time there was no water anywhere on the face of the earth. all the waters were contained in the body of a huge frog, and men and women could get none of them. a council was held, and... it was agreed that the frog should be made to laugh, when the waters would run out of his mouth, and there would be plenty in all parts." to make a long story short, all the animals played the jester before the gigantic solemn frog, who sat as grave as louis xv. "i do not like buffoons who don't make me laugh," said that majestical monarch. at last the eel danced on the tip of his tail, and the gravity of the prodigious batrachian gave way. he laughed till he literally split his sides, and the imprisoned waters came with a rush. indeed, many persons were drowned, though this is not the only australian version of the deluge. the andaman islanders dwell at a very considerable distance from australia and from the iroquois, and, in the present condition of the natives of australia and andaman, neither could possibly visit the other. the frog in the andaman version is called a toad, and he came to swallow the waters in the following way: one day a woodpecker was eating honey high up in the boughs of a tree. far below, the toad was a witness of the feast, and asked for some honey. "well, come up here, and you shall have some," said the woodpecker. "but how am i to climb?" "take hold of that creeper, and i will draw you up," said the woodpecker; but all the while he was bent on a practical joke. so the toad got into a bucket he happened to possess, and fastened the bucket to the creeper. "now, pull!" then the woodpecker raised the toad slowly to the level of the bough where the honey was, and presently let him down with a run, not only disappointing the poor toad, but shaking him severely. the toad went away in a rage and looked about him for revenge. a happy thought occurred to him, and he drank up all the water of the rivers and lakes. birds and beasts were perishing, woodpeckers among them, of thirst. the toad, overjoyed at his success, wished to add insult to the injury, and, very thoughtlessly, began to dance in an irritating manner at his foes. but then the stolen waters gushed out of his mouth in full volume, and the drought soon ended. one of the most curious points in this myth is the origin of the quarrel between the woodpecker and the toad. the same beginning--the tale of an insult put on an animal by hauling up and letting him down with a run--occurs in an african marchen.( ) ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. , ; brinton, american hero myths, i. . cf. also relations de la nouvelle france, , , ; (sagard, hist. du canada, , p. ;) journal anthrop. inst., . now this strangely diffused story of the slaying of the frog which had swallowed all the water seems to be a savage myth of which the more heroic conflict of indra with vrittra (the dragon which had swallowed all the waters) is an epic and sublimer version.( ) "the heavenly water, which vrittra withholds from the world, is usually the prize of the contest." ( ) ludwig, der rig-veda, iii. p. . see postea, "divine myths of india". the serpent of vedic myth is, perhaps, rather the robber-guardian than the swallower of the waters, but indra is still, like the iroquois ioskeha, "he who wounds the full one".( ) this example of the wide distribution of a myth shows how the question of diffusion, though connected with, is yet distinct from that of origin. the advantage of our method will prove to be, that it discovers an historical and demonstrable state of mind as the origin of the wild element in myth. again, the wide prevalence in the earliest times of this mental condition will, to a certain extent, explain the distribution of myth. room must be left, of course, for processes of borrowing and transmission, but how andamanese, australians and hurons could borrow from each other is an unsolved problem. ( ) gubernatis, zoological myth. ii. , note . "when indra kills the serpent he opens the torrent of the waters" (p. ). see also aitareya brahmana, translated by haug, ii. . finally, our hypothesis is not involved in dubious theories of race. to us, myths appear to be affected (in their origins) much less by the race than by the stage of culture attained by the people who cherish them. a fight for the waters between a monstrous dragon like vrittra and a heroic god like indra is a nobler affair than a quarrel for the waters between a woodpecker and a toad. but the improvement and transfiguration, so to speak, of a myth at bottom the same is due to the superior culture, not to the peculiar race, of the vedic poets, except so far as culture itself depends on race. how far the purer culture was attained to by the original superiority of the aryan over the andaman breed, it is not necessary for our purpose to inquire. thus, on the whole, we may claim for our system a certain demonstrable character, which helps to simplify the problems of mythology, and to remove them from the realm of fanciful guesses and conflicting etymological conjectures into that of sober science. that these pretensions are not unacknowledged even by mythologists trained in other schools is proved by the remarks of dr. tiele.( ) ( ) rev. de l'hist. des rel., "le mythe de cronos," january, . dr. tiele is not, it must be noted, a thorough adherent of our theory. see modern mythology: "the question of allies". dr. tiele writes: "if i were obliged to choose between this method" (the system here advocated) "and that of comparative philology, it is the former that i would adopt without the slightest hesitation. this method alone enables us to explain the fact, which has so often provoked amazement, that people so refined as the greeks,... or so rude, but morally pure, as the germans,... managed to attribute to their gods all manner of cowardly, cruel and disorderly conduct. this method alone explains the why and wherefore of all those strange metamorphoses of gods into beasts and plants, and even stones, which scandalised philosophers, and which the witty ovid played on for the diversion of his contemporaries. in short, this method teaches us to recognise in all those strange stories the survivals of a barbaric age, long passed away, but enduring to later times in the form of religious traditions, of all traditions the most persistent.... finally, this method alone enables us to explain the origin of myths, because it endeavours to study them in their rudest and most primitive shape, thus allowing their true significance to be much more clearly apparent than it can be in the myths (so often touched, retouched, augmented and humanised) which are current among races arrived at a certain degree of culture." the method is to this extent applauded by a most competent authority, and it has been warmly accepted by a distinguished french school of students, represented by m. gaidoz. but it is obvious that the method rests on a double hypothesis: first, that satisfactory evidence as to the mental conditions of the lower and backward races is obtainable; second, that the civilised races (however they began) either passed through the savage state of thought and practice, or borrowed very freely from people in that condition. these hypotheses have been attacked by opponents; the trustworthiness of our evidence, especially, has been assailed. by way of facilitating the course of the exposition and of lessening the disturbing element of controversy, a reply to the objections and a defence of the evidence has been relegated to an appendix.( ) meanwhile we go on to examine the peculiar characteristics of the mental condition of savages and of peoples in the lower and upper barbarisms. ( ) appendix b. chapter iii. the mental condition of savages--confusion with nature--totemism. the mental condition of savages the basis of the irrational element in myth--characteristics of that condition: ( ) confusion of all things in an equality of presumed animation and intelligence; ( ) belief in sorcery; ( ) spiritualism; ( ) curiosity; ( ) easy credulity and mental indolence--the curiosity is satisfied, thanks to the credulity, by myths in answer to all inquiries--evidence for this--mr. tylor's opinion--mr. im thurn--jesuit missionaries' relations--examples of confusion between men, plants, beasts and other natural objects--reports of travellers--evidence from institution of totemism--definition of totemism--totemism in australia, africa, america, the oceanic islands, india, north asia--conclusions: totemism being found so widely distributed, is a proof of the existence of that savage mental condition in which no line is drawn between men and the other things in the world. this confusion is one of the characteristics of myth in all races. we set out to discover a stage of human intellectual development which would necessarily produce the essential elements of myth. we think we have found that stage in the condition of savagery. we now proceed to array the evidence for the mental processes of savages. we intend to demonstrate the existence in practical savage life of the ideas which most surprise us when we find them in civilised sacred legends. for the purposes of this inquiry, it is enough to select a few special peculiarities of savage thought. . first we have that nebulous and confused frame of mind to which all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable, or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason. the savage, at all events when myth-making, draws no hard and fast line between himself and the things in the world. he regards himself as literally akin to animals and plants and heavenly bodies; he attributes sex and procreative powers even to stones and rocks, and he assigns human speech and human feelings to sun and moon and stars and wind, no less than to beasts, birds and fishes.( ) ( ) "so fasst auch das alterthum ihren unterschied von den menschen ganz anders als die spatere zeit."--grimm, quoted by liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. . . the second point to note in savage opinion is the belief in magic and sorcery. the world and all the things in it being vaguely conceived of as sensible and rational, obey the commands of certain members of the tribe, chiefs, jugglers, conjurors, or what you will. rocks open at their order, rivers dry up, animals are their servants and hold converse with them. these magicians cause or heal diseases, and can command even the weather, bringing rain or thunder or sunshine at their will.( ) there are few supernatural attributes of "cloud-compelling zeus" or of apollo that are not freely assigned to the tribal conjuror. by virtue, doubtless, of the community of nature between man and the things in the world, the conjuror (like zeus or indra) can assume at will the shape of any animal, or can metamorphose his neighbours or enemies into animal forms. ( ) see roth in north-west central queensland aborigines, chapter xii., . . another peculiarity of savage belief naturally connects itself with that which has just been described. the savage has very strong ideas about the persistent existence of the souls of the dead. they retain much of their old nature, but are often more malignant after death than they had been during life. they are frequently at the beck and call of the conjuror, whom they aid with their advice and with their magical power. by virtue of the close connection already spoken of between man and the animals, the souls of the dead are not rarely supposed to migrate into the bodies of beasts, or to revert to the condition of that species of creatures with which each tribe supposes itself to be related by ties of kinship or friendship. with the usual inconsistency of mythical belief, the souls of the dead are spoken of, at other times, as if they inhabited a spiritual world, sometimes a paradise of flowers, sometimes a gloomy place, which mortal men may visit, but whence no one can escape who has tasted of the food of the ghosts. . in connection with spirits a far-reaching savage philosophy prevails. it is not unusual to assign a ghost to all objects, animate or inanimate, and the spirit or strength of a man is frequently regarded as something separable, capable of being located in an external object, or something with a definite locality in the body. a man's strength and spirit may reside in his kidney fat, in his heart, in a lock of his hair, or may even be stored by him in some separate receptacle. very frequently a man is held capable of detaching his soul from his body, and letting it roam about on his business, sometimes in the form of a bird or other animal. . many minor savage beliefs might be named, such as the common faith in friendly or protecting animals, and the notion that "natural deaths" (as we call them) are always unnatural, that death is always caused by some hostile spirit or conjuror. from this opinion comes the myth that man is naturally not subject to death: that death was somehow introduced into the world by a mistake or misdeed is a corollary. (see "myths of the origin of death" in modern mythology.) . one more mental peculiarity of the savage mind remains to be considered in this brief summary. the savage, like the civilised man, is curious. the first faint impulses of the scientific spirit are at work in his brain; he is anxious to give himself an account of the world in which he finds himself. but he is not more curious than he is, on occasion, credulous. his intellect is eager to ask questions, as is the habit of children, but his intellect is also lazy, and he is content with the first answer that comes to hand. "ils s'arretent aux premieres notions qu'ils en ont," says pere hierome lalemant.( ) "nothing," says schoolcraft, "is too capacious (sic) for indian belief."( ) the replies to his questions he receives from tradition or (when a new problem arises) evolves an answer for himself in the shape of stories. just as socrates, in the platonic dialogues, recalls or invents a myth in the despair of reason, so the savage has a story for answer to almost every question that he can ask himself. these stories are in a sense scientific, because they attempt a solution of the riddles of the world. they are in a sense religious, because there is usually a supernatural power, a deus ex machina, of some sort to cut the knot of the problem. such stories, then, are the science, and to a certain extent the religious tradition, of savages.( ) ( ) relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . ( ) algic researches, i. . ( ) "the indians (algonkins) conveyed instruction--moral, mechanical and religious--through traditionary fictions and tales."--schoolcraft, algic researches, i. . now these tales are necessarily cast in the mould of the savage ideas of which a sketch has been given. the changes of the heavenly bodies, the processes of day and night, the existence of the stars, the invention of the arts, the origin of the world (as far as known to the savage), of the tribe, of the various animals and plants, the origin of death itself, the origin of the perplexing traditional tribal customs, are all accounted for in stories. at the same time, an actual divine maker is sometimes postulated. the stories, again, are fashioned in accordance with the beliefs already named: the belief in human connection with and kinship with beasts and plants; the belief in magic; the belief in the perpetual possibility of metamorphosis or "shape shifting"; the belief in the permanence and power of the ghosts of the dead; the belief in the personal and animated character of all the things in the world, and so forth. no more need be said to explain the wild and (as it seems to us moderns) the irrational character of savage myth. it is a jungle of foolish fancies, a walpurgis nacht of gods and beasts and men and stars and ghosts, all moving madly on a level of common personality and animation, and all changing shapes at random, as partners are changed in some fantastic witches' revel. such is savage mythology, and how could it be otherwise when we consider the elements of thought and belief out of which it is mainly composed? we shall see that part of the mythology of the greeks or the aryans of india is but a similar walpurgis nacht, in which an incestuous or amorous god may become a beast, and the object of his pursuit, once a woman, may also become a beast, and then shift shapes to a tree or a bird or a star. but in the civilised races the genius of the people tends to suppress, exclude and refine away the wild element, which, however, is never wholly eliminated. the erinyes soon stop the mouth of the horse of achilles when he begins, like the horse in grimm's goose girl, to hold a sustained conversation.( ) but the ancient, cruel, and grotesque savage element, nearly overcome by homer and greatly reduced by the vedic poets, breaks out again in hesiod, in temple legends and brahmanic glosses, and finally proves so strong that it can only be subdued by christianity, or rather by that break between the educated classes and the traditional past of religion which has resulted from christianity. even so, myth lingers in the folk-lore of the non-progressive classes of europe, and, as in roumania, invades religion. ( ) iliad, xix. . we have now to demonstrate the existence in the savage intellect of the various ideas and habits which we have described, and out of which mythology springs. first, we have to show that "a nebulous and confused state of mind, to which all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason," does really exist.( ) the existence of this condition of the intellect will be demonstrated first on the evidence of the statements of civilised observers, next on the evidence of the savage institutions in which it is embodied. ( ) creuzer and guigniaut, vol. i. p. . the opinion of mr. tylor is naturally of great value, as it is formed on as wide an acquaintance with the views of the lower races as any inquirers can hope to possess. mr. tylor observes: "we have to inform ourselves of the savage man's idea, which is very different from the civilised man's, of the nature of the lower animals.... the sense of an absolute psychical distinction between man and beast, so prevalent in the civilised world, is hardly to be found among the lower races."( ) the universal attribution of "souls" to all things--the theory known as "animism"--is another proof that the savage draws no hard and fast line between man and the other things in the world. the notion of the italian country-people, that cruelty to an animal does not matter because it is not a "christian," has no parallel in the philosophy of the savage, to whom all objects seem to have souls, just as men have. mr. im thurn found the absence of any sense of a difference between man and nature a characteristic of his native companions in guiana. "the very phrase, 'men and other animals,' or even, as it is often expressed, 'men and animals,' based as it is on the superiority which civilised man feels over other animals, expresses a dichotomy which is in no way recognised by the indian.... it is therefore most important to realise how comparatively small really is the difference between men in a state of savagery and other animals, and how completely even such difference as exists escapes the notice of savage men... it is not, therefore, too much to say that, according to the view of the indians, other animals differ from men only in bodily form and in their various degrees of strength; in spirit they do not differ at all."( ) the indian's notion of the life of plants and stones is on the same level of unreason, as we moderns reckon reason. he believes in the spirits of rocks and stones, undeterred by the absence of motion in these objects. "not only many rocks, but also many waterfalls, streams, and indeed material objects of every sort, are supposed each to consist of a body and a spirit, as does man."( ) it is not our business to ask here how men came by the belief in universal animation. that belief is gradually withdrawn, distinctions are gradually introduced, as civilisation and knowledge advance. it is enough for us if the failure to draw a hard and fast line between man and beasts, stones and plants, be practically universal among savages, and if it gradually disappears before the fuller knowledge of civilisation. the report which mr. im thurn brings from the indians of guiana is confirmed by what schoolcraft says of the algonkin races of the northern part of the continent. "the belief of the narrators and listeners in every wild and improbable thing told helps wonderfully in the original stories, in joining all parts together. the indian believes that the whole visible and invisible creation is animated.... to make the matter worse, these tribes believe that animals of the lowest as well as highest class in the chain of creation are alike endowed with reasoning powers and faculties. as a natural conclusion they endow birds, beasts and all other animals with souls."( ) as an example of the ease with which the savage recognises consciousness and voluntary motion even in stones, may be cited kohl's account of the beliefs of the objibeways.( ) nearly every indian has discovered, he says, an object in which he places special confidence, and to which he sacrifices more zealously than to the great spirit. the "hope" of otamigan (a companion of the traveller) was a rock, which once advanced to meet him, swayed, bowed and went back again. another indian revered a canadian larch, "because he once heard a very remarkable rustling in its branches". it thus appears that while the savage has a general kind of sense that inanimate things are animated, he is a good deal impressed by their conduct when he thinks that they actually display their animation. in the same way a devout modern spiritualist probably regards with more reverence a table which he has seen dancing and heard rapping than a table at which he has only dined. another general statement of failure to draw the line between men and the irrational creation is found in the old jesuit missionary le jeune's relations de la nouvelle france.( ) "les sauvages se persuadent que non seulement les hommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres choses sont animees." again: "ils tiennent les poissons raisonnables, comme aussi les cerfs". in the solomon islands, mr. romilly sailed with an old chief who used violent language to the waves when they threatened to dash over the boat, and "old takki's exhortations were successful".( ) waitz( ) discovers the same attitude towards the animals among the negroes. man, in their opinion, is by no means a separate sort of person on the summit of nature and high above the beasts; these he rather regards as dark and enigmatic beings, whose life is full of mystery, and which he therefore considers now as his inferiors, now as his superiors. a collection of evidence as to the savage failure to discriminate between human and non-human, animate and inanimate, has been brought together by sir john lubbock.( ) ( ) primitive culture, i. - . ( ) among the indians of guiana ( ), p. . ( ) op. cit., . ( ) schoolcraft, algic researches, i. . ( ) kohl, wanderings round lake superior, pp. , ; muller, amerikan urrelig., pp. - . ( ) , p. . ( ) western pacific, p. . ( ) anthropologie der natur-volker, ii. . ( ) origin of civilisation, p. . a number of examples of this mental attitude among the bushmen will be found in chap. v., postea. to a race accustomed like ourselves to arrange and classify, to people familiar from childhood and its games with "vegetable, animal and mineral," a condition of mind in which no such distinctions are drawn, any more than they are drawn in greek or brahmanic myths, must naturally seem like what mr. max muller calls "temporary insanity". the imagination of the savage has been defined by mr. tylor as "midway between the conditions of a healthy, prosaic, modern citizen, and of a raving fanatic, or of a patient in a fever-ward". if any relics of such imagination survive in civilised mythology, they will very closely resemble the productions of a once universal "temporary insanity". let it be granted, then, that "to the lower tribes of man, sun and stars, trees and rivers, winds and clouds, become personal, animate creatures, leading lives conformed to human or animal analogies, and performing their special functions in the universe with the aid of limbs like beasts, or of artificial instruments like men; or that what men's eyes behold is but the instrument to be used or the material to be shaped, while behind it there stands some prodigious but yet half-human creature, who grasps it with his hands or blows it with his breath. the basis on which such ideas as these are built is not to be narrowed down to poetic fancy and transformed metaphor. they rest upon a broad philosophy of nature; early and crude, indeed, but thoughtful, consistent, and quite really and seriously meant."( ) ( ) primtive culture, i. . for the sake of illustration, some minor examples must next be given of this confusion between man and other things in the world, which will presently be illustrated by the testimony of a powerful and long diffused set of institutions. the christian quiches of guatemala believe that each of them has a beast as his friend and protector, just as in the highlands "the dog is the friend of the maclaines". when the finns, in their epic poem the kalewala, have killed a bear, they implore the animal to forgive them. "oh, ot-so," chant the singers, "be not angry that we come near thee. the bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in lands between sun and moon, and he died, not by men's hands, but of his own will."( ) the red men of north america( ) have a tradition showing how it is that the bear does not die, but, like herodotus with the sacred stories of the egyptian priests, mr. schoolcraft "cannot induce himself to write it out".( ) it is a most curious fact that the natives of australia tell a similar tale of their "native bear". "he did not die" when attacked by men.( ) in parts of australia it is a great offence to skin the native bear, just as on a part of the west coast of ireland, where seals are superstitiously regarded, the people cannot be bribed to skin them. in new caledonia, when a child tries to kill a lizard, the men warn him to "beware of killing his own ancestor".( ) the zulus spare to destroy a certain species of serpents, believed to be the spirits of kinsmen, as the great snake which appeared when aeneas did sacrifice was held to be the ghost of anchises. mexican women( ) believed that children born during an eclipse turn into mice. in australia the natives believe that the wild dog has the power of speech; whoever listens to him is petrified; and a certain spot is shown where "the wild dog spoke and turned the men into stone";( ) and the blacks run for their lives as soon as the dog begins to speak. what it said was "bones". ( ) kalewala, in la finlande, leouzon le duc ( ), vol. ii. p. ; cf. also the introduction. ( ) schoolcraft, v. . ( ) see similar ceremonies propitiatory of the bear in jewett's adventures among the nootkas, edinburgh, . ( ) brough smyth, i. . ( ) j. j. atkinson's ms. ( ) sahagun, ii. viii. ; bancroft, iii. . compare stories of women who give birth to animals in melusine, , august-november. the batavians believe that women, when delivered of a child, are frequently delivered at the same time of a young crocodile as a twin. hawkesworth's voyages, iii. . liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. et seq. ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . these are minor examples of a form of opinion which is so strong that it is actually the chief constituent in savage society. that society, whether in ashantee or australia, in north america or south africa, or north asia or india, or among the wilder tribes of ancient peru, is based on an institution generally called "totemism". this very extraordinary institution, whatever its origin, cannot have arisen except among men capable of conceiving kinship and all human relationships as existing between themselves and all animate and inanimate things. it is the rule, and not the exception, that savage societies are founded upon this belief. the political and social conduct of the backward races is regulated in such matters as blood-feud and marriage by theories of the actual kindred and connection by descent, or by old friendship, which men have in common with beasts, plants, the sun and moon, the stars, and even the wind and the rain. now, in whatever way this belief in such relations to beasts and plants may have arisen, it undoubtedly testifies to a condition of mind in which no hard and fast line was drawn between man and animate and inanimate nature. the discovery of the wide distribution of the social arrangements based on this belief is entirely due to mr. j. f. m'lennan, the author of primitive marriage. mr. m'lennan's essays ("the worship of plants and animals," "totems and totemism") were published in the fortnightly review, - . any follower in the footsteps of mr. m'lennan has it in his power to add a little evidence to that originally set forth, and perhaps to sift the somewhat uncritical authorities adduced.( ) ( ) see also mr. frazer's totemism, and golden bough, with chapter on totemism in modern mythology. the name "totemism" or "totamism" was first applied at the end of the last century by long( ) to the red indian custom which acknowledges human kinship with animals. this institution had already been recognised among the iroquois by lafitau,( ) and by other observers. as to the word "totem," mr. max muller( ) quotes an opinion that the interpreters, missionaries, government inspectors, and others who apply the name totem to the indian "family mark" must have been ignorant of the indian languages, for there is in them no such word as totem. the right word, it appears, is otem; but as "totemism" has the advantage of possessing the ground, we prefer to say "totemism" rather than "otemism". the facts are the same, whatever name we give them. as mr. muller says himself,( ) "every warrior has his crest, which is called his totem";( ) and he goes on to describe a totem of an indian who died about . we may now return to the consideration of "otemism" or totemism. we approach it rather as a fact in the science of mythology than as a stage in the evolution of the modern family system. for us totemism is interesting because it proves the existence of that savage mental attitude which assumes kindred and alliance between man and the things in the world. as will afterwards be seen, totemism has also left its mark on the mythologies of the civilised races. we shall examine the institution first as it is found in australia, because the australian form of totemism shows in the highest known degree the savage habit of confusing in a community of kinship men, stars, plants, beasts, the heavenly bodies, and the forces of nature. when this has once been elucidated, a shorter notice of other totemistic races will serve our purpose. ( ) voyages and travels, . ( ) moeurs des sauvages ( ), p. . ( ) academy, december , . ( ) selected essays ( ), ii. . ( ) compare mr. max muller's contributions to the science of mythology. the society of the murri or black fellows of australia is divided into local tribes, each of which possesses, or used to possess, and hunt over a considerable tract of country. these local tribes are united by contiguity, and by common local interests, but not necessarily by blood kinship. for example, the port mackay tribe, the mount gambier tribe, the ballarat tribe, all take their names from their district. in the same way we might speak of the people of strathclyde or of northumbria in early english history. now, all these local tribes contain an indefinite number of stocks of kindred, of men believing themselves to be related by the ties of blood and common descent. that descent the groups agree in tracing, not from some real or idealised human parent, but from some animal, plant, or other natural object, as the kangaroo, the emu, the iguana, the pelican, and so forth. persons of the pelican stock in the north of queensland regard themselves as relations of people of the same stock in the most southern parts of australia. the creature from which each tribe claims descent is called "of the same flesh," while persons of another stock are "fresh flesh". a native may not marry a woman of "his own flesh"; it is only a woman of "fresh" or "strange" flesh he may marry. a man may not eat an animal of "his own flesh"; he may only eat "strange flesh". only under great stress of need will an australian eat the animal which is the flesh-and-blood cousin and protector of his stock.( ) (these rules of marriage and blood, however, do not apply among the arunta of central australia, whose totems (if totems they should be called) have been developed on very different lines.( )) clearer evidence of the confusion between man and beast, of the claiming of kin between man and beast, could hardly be. ( ) dawson, aborigines, pp. , ; howitt and fison, kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) spencer and gillen, native tribes of central australia. but the australian philosophy of the intercommunion of nature goes still farther than this. besides the local divisions and the kindred stocks which trace their descent from animals, there exist among many australian tribes divisions of a kind still unexplained. for example, every man of the mount gambier local tribe is by birth either a kumite or a kroki. this classification applies to the whole of the sensible universe. thus smoke and honeysuckle trees belong to the division kumite, and are akin to the fishhawk stock of men. on the other hand, the kangaroo, summer, autumn, the wind and the shevak tree belong to the division kroki, and are akin to the black cockatoo stock of men. any human member of the kroki division has thus for his brothers the sun, the wind, the kangaroo, and the rest; while any man of the kumite division and the crow surname is the brother of the rain, the thunder, and the winter. this extraordinary belief is not a mere idle fancy--it influences conduct. "a man does not kill or use as food any of the animals of the same subdivision (kroki or kumite) with himself, excepting when hunger compels, and then they express sorrow for having to eat their wingong (friends) or tumanang (their flesh). when using the last word they touch their breasts, to indicate the close relationship, meaning almost a portion of themselves. to illustrate: one day one of the blacks killed a crow. three or four days afterwards a boortwa (a man of the crow surname and stock), named larry, died. he had been ailing for some days, but the killing of his wingong (totem) hastened his death."( ) commenting on this statement, mr. fison observes: "the south australian savage looks upon the universe as the great tribe, to one of whose divisions he himself belongs; and all things, animate and inanimate, which belong to his class are parts of the body corporate whereof he himself is part". this account of the australian beliefs and customs is borne out, to a certain extent, by the evidence of sir george grey,( ) and of the late mr. gideon scott lang.( ) these two writers take no account of the singular "dichotomous" divisions, as of kumite and kroki, but they draw attention to the groups of kindred which derive their surnames from animals, plants, and the like. "the origin of these family names," says sir george grey, "is attributed by the natives to different causes.... one origin frequently assigned by the natives is, that they were derived from some vegetable or animal being very common in the district which the family inhabited." we have seen from the evidence of messrs. fison and howitt that a more common native explanation is based on kinship with the vegetable or plant which bestows the family surname. sir george gray mentions that the families use their plant or animal as a crest or kobong (totem), and he adds that natives never willingly kill animals of their kobong, holding that some one of that species is their nearest friend. the consequences of eating forbidden animals vary considerably. sometimes the boyl-yas (that is, ghosts) avenge the crime. thus when sir george grey ate some mussels (which, after all, are not the crest of the greys), a storm followed, and one of his black fellow improvised this stave:-- oh, wherefore did he eat the mussels? now the boyl-yas storms and thunders make; oh, wherefore would he eat the mussels? ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) travels, ii. . ( ) lang, lecture on natives of australia, p. . there are two points in the arrangements of these stocks of kindred named from plants and animals which we shall find to possess a high importance. no member of any such kindred may marry a woman of the same name and descended from the same object.( ) thus no man of the emu stock may marry an emu woman; no blacksnake may marry a blacksnake woman, and so forth. this point is very strongly put by mr. dawson, who has had much experience of the blacks. "so strictly are the laws of marriage carried out, that, should any sign of courtship or affection be observed between those 'of one flesh,' the brothers or male relatives of the woman beat her severely." if the incestuous pair (though not in the least related according to our ideas) run away together, they are "half-killed"; and if the woman dies in consequence of her punishment, her partner in iniquity is beaten again. no "eric" or blood-fine of any kind is paid for her death, which carries no blood-feud. "her punishment is legal."( ) this account fully corroborates that of sir george grey.( ) ( ) taplin, the nerrinyeri. p. . "every tribe, regarded by them as a family, has its ngaitge, or tutelary genius or tribal symbol, in the shape of some bird, beast, fish, reptile, insect, or substance. between individuals of the same tribe no marriage can take place." among the narrinyeri kindred is reckoned (p. ) on the father's side. see also (p. ) ngaitge = samoan aitu. "no man or woman will kill their ngaitge," except with precautions, for food. ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) ibid., ii. . our conclusion is that the belief in "one flesh" (a kinship shared with the animals) must be a thoroughly binding idea, as the notion is sanctioned by capital punishment. another important feature in australian totemism strengthens our position. the idea of the animal kinship must be an ancient one in the race, because the family surname, emu, bandicoot, or what not, and the crest, kobong, or protecting and kindred animal, are inherited through the mother's side in the majority of stocks. this custom, therefore, belongs to that early period of human society in which the woman is the permanent and recognised factor in the family while male parentage is uncertain.( ) one other feature of australian totemism must be mentioned before we leave the subject. there is some evidence that in certain tribes the wingong or totem of each man is indicated by a tattooed representation of it upon his flesh. the natives are very licentious, but men would shrink from an amour with a woman who neither belonged to their own district nor spoke their language, but who, in spite of that, was of their totem. to avoid mistakes, it seems that some tribes mark the totem on the flesh with incised lines.( ) the natives frequently design figures of some kind on the trees growing near the graves of deceased warriors. some observers have fancied that in these designs they recognised the totem of the dead men; but on this subject evidence is by no means clear. we shall see that this primitive sort of heraldry, this carving or painting of hereditary blazons, is common among the red men of america.( ) ( ) cf. bachofen, das mutterrecht; m'lennan, primitive marriage, passim; encycl. brit. s. v. family. ( ) fison, op. cit., p. . ( ) among other recent sources see howitt in "organisation of australian tribes" (transactions of royal society of victoria, ), and spencer and gillen, natives of central australia. in central australia there is a marked difference in the form of totemism. though a large amount of evidence might be added to that already put forward, we may now sum up the inferences to be drawn from the study of totemism in australia. it has been shown ( ) that the natives think themselves actually akin to animals, plants, the sun, and the wind, and things in general; ( ) that those ideas influence their conduct, and even regulate their social arrangements, because ( ) men and women of the kinship of the same animal or plant may not intermarry, while men are obliged to defend, and in case of murder to avenge, persons of the stock of the family or plant from which they themselves derive their family name. thus, on the evidence of institutions, it is plain that the australians are (or before the influence of the europeans became prevalent were) in a state of mind which draws no hard and fast line between man and the things in the world. if, therefore, we find that in australian myth, men, gods, beasts, and things all shift shapes incessantly, and figure in a coroboree dance of confusion, there will be nothing to astonish us in the discovery. the myths of men in the australian intellectual condition, of men who hold long conversations with the little "native bear," and ask him for oracles, will naturally and inevitably be grotesque and confused.( ) ( ) brough smyth, i. , on ms. authority of w. thomas. it is "a far cry" from australia to the west coast of africa, and it is scarcely to be supposed that the australians have borrowed ideas and institutions from ashantee, or that the people of ashantee have derived their conceptions of the universe from the murri of australia. we find, however, on the west african coast, just as we do in australia, that there exist large local divisions of the natives. these divisions are spoken of by mr. bowditch (who visited the country on a mission in ) as nations, and they are much more populous and powerful (as the people are more civilised) than the local tribes of australia. yet, just as among the local tribes of australia, the nations of the west african coast are divided into stocks of kindred, each stock having its representatives in each nation. thus an ashantee or a fantee may belong to the same stock of kindred as a member of the assin or akini nation. when an ashantee of the annona stock of kindred meets a warsaw man of the same stock they salute and acknowledge each other as brothers. in the same way a ballarat man of the kangaroo stock in australia recognises a relative in a mount gambier man who is also a kangaroo. now, with one exception, all the names of the twelve stocks of west african kindreds, or at least all of them which mr. bowditch could get the native interpreters to translate, are derived from animals, plants and other natural objects, just as in australia.( ) thus quonna is a buffalo, abrootoo is a cornstalk, abbradi a plantain. other names are, in english, the parrot, the wild cat, red earth, panther and dog. thus all the natives of this part of africa are parrots, dogs, buffaloes, panthers, and so forth, just as the australians are emus, iguanas, black cockatoos, kangaroos, and the rest. it is remarkable that there is an incra stock, or clan of ants, in ashantee, just as there was a race of myrmidons, believed to be descended from or otherwise connected with ants, in ancient greece. though bowditch's account of these west african family divisions is brief, the arrangement tallies closely with that of australia. it is no great stretch of imagination to infer that the african tribes do, or once did, believe themselves to be of the kindred of the animals whose names they bear.( ) it is more or less confirmatory of this hypothesis that no family is permitted to use as food the animal from which it derives its name. we have seen that a similar rule prevails, as far as hunger and scarcity of victuals permit it to be obeyed, among the natives of australia. the intchwa stock in ashantee and fantee is particularly unlucky, because its members may not eat the dog, "much relished by native epicures, and therefore a serious privation". equally to be pitied were the ancient egyptians, who, if they belonged to the district of the sheep, might not eat mutton, which their neighbours, the lycopolitae, devoured at pleasure. these restrictions appear to be connected with the almost universal dislike of cannibals to eat persons of their own kindred except as a pious duty. this law of the game in cannibalism has not yet been thoroughly examined, though we often hear of wars waged expressly for the purpose of securing food (human meat), while some south american tribes actually bred from captive women by way of securing constant supplies of permitted flesh.( ) when we find stocks, then, which derive their names from animals and decline to eat these animals, we may at least suspect that they once claimed kinship with the name-giving beasts. the refusal to eat them raises a presumption of such faith. old bosman( ) had noticed the same practices. "one eats no mutton, another no goat's flesh, another no beef, swine's flesh, wild fowl, cocks with white feathers, and they say their ancestors did so from the beginning of the world." ( ) the evidence of native interpreters may be viewed with suspicion. it is improbable, however, that in the interpreters were acquainted with the totemistic theory of mythologists, and deliberately mistranslated the names of the stocks, so as to make them harmonise with indian, australian, and red indian totem kindreds. this, indeed, is an example where the criterion of "recurrence" or "coincidence" seems to be valuable. bowditch's mission to ashantee ( ), p. . ( ) this view, however, does not prevail among the totemistic tribes of british columbia, for example. ( ) cieza de leon (hakluyt society), p. . this amazing tale is supported by the statement that kinship went by the female side (p. ); the father was thus not of the kin of his child by the alien woman. cieza was with validillo in . ( ) in pinkerton, xvi. . while in the case of the ashantee tribes, we can only infer the existence of a belief in kinship with the animals from the presence of the other features of fully developed totemism (especially from the refusal to eat the name-giving animal), we have direct evidence for the opinion in another part of africa, among the bechuanas.( ) casalis, who passed twenty-three years as a missionary in south africa, thus describes the institution: "while the united communities usually bear the name of their chief or of the district which they inhabit" (local tribes, as in australia), "each stock (tribu) derives its title from an animal or a vegetable. all the bechuanas are subdivided thus into bakuenas (crocodile-men), batlapis (men of the fish), banarer (of the buffalo), banukus (porcupines), bamoraras (wild vines), and so forth. the bakuenas call the crocodile their father, sing about him in their feasts, swear by him, and mark the ears of their cattle with an incision which resembles the open jaws of the creature." this custom of marking the cattle with the crest, as it were, of the stock, takes among some races the shape of deforming themselves, so as the more to resemble the animal from which they claim descent. "the chief of the family which holds the chief rank in the stock is called 'the great man of the crocodile'. precisely in the same way the duchess of sutherland is styled in gaelic 'the great lady of the cat,'" though totemism is probably not the origin of this title. ( ) e. casalis, les bassoutos, . casalis proceeds: "no one would dare to eat the flesh or wear the skin of the animal whose name he bears. if the animal be dangerous--the lion, for example--people only kill him after offering every apology and asking his pardon. purification must follow such a sacrifice." casalis was much struck with the resemblance between these practices and the similar customs of north american races. livingstone's account( ) on the whole corroborates that of casalis, though he says the batau (tribe of the lion) no longer exists. "they use the word bina 'to dance,' in reference to the custom of thus naming themselves, so that when you wish to ascertain what tribe they belong to, you say, 'what do you dance?' it would seem as if this had been part of the worship of old." the mythological and religious knowledge of the bushmen is still imparted in dances; and when a man is ignorant of some myth he will say, "i do not dance that dance," meaning that he does not belong to the guild which preserves that particular "sacred chapter".( ) ( ) missionary travels ( ), p. . ( ) orpen, cape monthly magazine, . casalis noticed the similarity between south african and red indian opinion about kinship with vegetables and beasts. the difficulty in treating the red indian belief is chiefly found in the abundance of the evidence. perhaps the first person who ever used the word "totemism," or, as he spells it, "totamism," was (as we said) mr. long, an interpreter among the chippeways, who published his voyages in . long was not wholly ignorant of the languages, as it was his business to speak them, and he was an adopted indian. the ceremony of adoption was painful, beginning with a feast of dog's flesh, followed by a turkish bath and a prolonged process of tattooing.( ) according to long,( ) "the totam, they conceive, assumes the form of some beast or other, and therefore they never kill, hurt, or eat the animal whose form they think this totam bears". one man was filled with religious apprehensions, and gave himself up to the gloomy belief of bunyan and cowper, that he had committed the unpardonable sin, because he dreamed he had killed his totem, a bear.( ) this is only one example, like the refusal of the osages to kill the beavers, with which they count cousins,( ) that the red man's belief is an actual creed, and does influence his conduct. ( ) long, pp. - . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) schoolcraft, i. . as in australia, the belief in common kin with beasts is most clearly proved by the construction of red indian society. the "totemistic" stage of thought and manners prevails. thus charlevoix says,( ) "plusieurs nations ont chacune trois familles ou tribus principales, aussi anciennes, a ce qu'il paroit, que leur origine. chaque tribu porte le nom d'un animal, et la nation entiere a aussi le sien, dont elle prend le nom, et dont la figure est sa marque, ou, se l'on veut, ses armoiries, on ne signe point autrement les traites qu'en traceant ces figures." among the animal totems charlevoix notices porcupine, bear, wolf and turtle. the armoiries, the totemistic heraldry of the peoples of virginia, greatly interested a heraldic ancestor of gibbon the historian,( ) who settled in the colony. according to schoolcraft,( ) the totem or family badge, of a dead warrior is drawn in a reverse position on his grave-post. in the same way the leopards of england are drawn reversed on the shield of an english king opposite the mention of his death in old monkish chronicles. as a general rule,( ) persons bearing the same totem in america cannot intermarry. "the union must be between various totems." moreover, as in the case of the australians, "the descent of the chief is in the female line". we thus find among the red men precisely the same totemistic regulations as among the aborigines of australia. like the australians, the red men "never" (perhaps we should read "hardly ever") eat their totems. totemists, in short, spare the beasts that are their own kith and kin. to avoid multiplying details which all corroborate each other, it may suffice to refer to schoolcraft for totemism among the iowas( ) and the pueblos;( ) for the iroquois, to lafitau, a missionary of the early part of the eighteenth century. lafitau was perhaps the first writer who ever explained certain features in greek and other ancient myths and practices as survivals from totemism. the chimera, a composite creature, lion, goat and serpent, might represent, lafitau thought, a league of three totem tribes, just as wolf, bear and turtle represented the iroquois league. ( ) histoire de la france-nouvelle, iii. . ( ) introductio ad latinam blasoniam, by john gibbon, blue mantle, london, . "the dancers, were painted some party per pale, gul and sab, some party per fesse of the same colours;" whence gibbon concluded "that heraldry was ingrafted naturally into the sense of the humane race". ( ) vol. i. p. . ( ) schoolcraft, v. . ( ) ibid., iii. . ( ) ibid., iv. . the martyred pere rasles, again, writing in ,( ) says that one stock of the outaonaks claims descent from a hare ("the great hare was a man of prodigious size"), while another stock derive their lineage from the carp, and a third descends from a bear; yet they do not scruple, after certain expiatory rites, to eat bear's flesh. other north american examples are the kutchin, who have always possessed the system of totems.( ) ( ) kip's jesuits in america i. . ( ) dall's alaska, pp. - . it is to be noticed, as a peculiarity of red indian totemism which we have not observed (though it may exist) in africa, that certain stocks claim relations with the sun. thus pere le petit, writing from new orleans in , mentions the sun, or great chief of the natchez indians.( ) the totem of the privileged class among the natchez was the sun, and in all myths the sun is regarded as a living being, who can have children, who may be beaten, who bleeds when cut, and is simply on the same footing as men and everything else in the world. precisely similar evidence comes from south america. in this case our best authority is almost beyond suspicion. he knew the native languages well, being himself a half-caste. he was learned in the european learning of his time; and as a son of the incas, he had access to all surviving peruvian stores of knowledge, and could collect without difficulty the testimonies of his countrymen. it will be seen( ) that don garcilasso de la vega could estimate evidence, and ridiculed the rough methods and fallacious guesses of spanish inquirers. garcilasso de la vega was born about , being the son of an inca princess and of a spanish conqueror. his book, commentarias reales,( ) was expressly intended to rectify the errors of such spanish writers as acosta. in his account of peruvian religion, garcilasso distinguishes between the beliefs of the tribes previous to the rise of the inca empire and the sun-worship of the incas. but it is plain, from garcilasso's own account and from other evidence, that under the incas the older faiths and fetichisms survived, in subordination to sun-worship, just as pagan superstitions survived in custom and folk-lore after the official recognition of christianity. sun-worship, in peru, and the belief in a supreme creator there, seem even, like catholicism in mexico, china and elsewhere, to have made a kind of compromise with the lower beliefs, and to have been content to allow a certain amount of bowing down in the temples of the elder faiths. according, then, to garcilasso's account of peruvian totemism, "an indian was not looked upon as honourable unless he was descended from a fountain, river,( ) or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey ".( ) a certain amount of worship was connected with this belief in kinship with beasts and natural objects. men offered up to their totems "what they usually saw them eat".( ) on the seacoasts "they worshipped sardines, skates, dog-fish, and, for want of larger gods, crabs.... there was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever, that they did not worship as a god," including "lizards, toads and frogs." garcilasso (who says they ate the fish they worshipped) gives his own theory of the origin of totemism. in the beginning men had only sought for badges whereby to discriminate one human stock from another. "the one desired to have a god different from the other.... they only thought of making one different from another." when the inca emperors began to civilise the totemistic stocks, they pointed out that their own father, the sun, possessed "splendour and beauty" as contrasted with "the ugliness and filth of the frogs and other vermin they looked upon as gods".( ) garcilasso, of course, does not use the north american word totem (or ote or otem) for the family badge which represented the family ancestors. he calls these things, as a general rule, pacarissa. the sun was the pacarissa of the incas, as it was of the chief of the natchez. the pacarissa of other stocks was the lion, bear, frog, or what not. garcilasso accounts for the belief accorded to the incas, when they claimed actual descent from the sun, by observing( ) that "there were tribes among their subjects who professed similar fabulous descents, though they did not comprehend how to select ancestors so well as the incas, but adored animals and other low and earthly objects". as to the fact of the peruvian worship of beasts, if more evidence is wanted, it is given, among others, by cieza de leon,( ) who contrasts the adoration of the roman gods with that offered in peru to brutes. "in the important temple of pacha-camac (the spiritual deity of peru) they worshipped a she-fox or vixen and an emerald." the devil also "appeared to them and spoke in the form of a tiger, very fierce". other examples of totemism in south america may be studied in the tribes on the amazon.( ) mr. wallace found the pineapple stock, the mosquitoes, woodpeckers, herons, and other totem kindreds. a curious example of similar ideas is discovered among the bonis of guiana. these people were originally west coast africans imported as slaves, who have won their freedom with the sword. while they retain a rough belief in gadou (god) and didibi (the devil), they are divided into totem stocks with animal names. the red ape, turtle and cayman are among the chief totems.( ) ( ) kip, ii. . ( ) appendix b. ( ) see translation in hakluyt society's collection. ( ) like many greek heroes. odyssey, iii. . "orsilochus, the child begotten of alpheus." ( ) comm. real., i. . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) cieza de leon (hakluyt society), p. . ( ) acuna, p. ; wallace, travels on amazon ( ), pp. - . ( ) crevaux, voyages dans l'amerique du sud, p. . after this hasty examination of the confused belief in kinship with animals and other natural objects which underlies institutions in australia, west and south africa, north and south america, we may glance at similar notions among the non-aryan races of india. in dalton's ethnology of bengal,( ) he tells us that the garo clans are divided into maharis or motherhoods. children belong to the mahari of the mother, just as (in general) they derive their stock name and totem from the mother's side in australia and among the north american indians. no man may marry (as among the red indians and australians) a woman belonging to his own stock, motherhood or mahari. so far the maharis of bengal exactly correspond to the totem kindred. but do the maharis also take their names from plants and animals, and so forth? we know that the killis, similar communities among the bengal hos and mundos, do this.( ) "the mundaris, like the oraons, adopt as their tribal distinction the name of some animal, and the flesh of that animal is tabooed to them as food; for example, the eel, the tortoise." this is exactly the state of things in ashanti. dalton mentions also( ) a princely family in nagpur which claims descent from "a great hooded snake". among the oraons he found( ) tribes which might not eat young mice (considered a dainty) or tortoises, and a stock which might not eat the oil of the tree which was their totem, nor even sit in its shade. "the family or tribal names" (within which they may not marry) "are usually those of animals or plants, and when this is the case, the flesh of some part of the animal or the fruit of the tree is tabooed to the tribe called after it." ( ) dalton, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . an excellent sketch of totemism in india is given by mr. h. h. risley of the bengal civil service:--( ) ( ) the asiatic quarterly, no. , essay on "primitive marriage in bengal." "at the bottom of the social system, as understood by the average hindu, stands a large body of non-aryan castes and tribes, each of which is broken up into a number of what may be called totemistic exogamous septs. each sept bears the name of an animal, a tree, a plant, or of some material object, natural or artificial, which the members of that sept are prohibited from killing, eating, cutting, burning, carrying, using, etc."( ) ( ) here we may note that the origin of exogamy itself is merely part of a strict totemistic prohibition. a man may not "use" an object within the totem kin, nor a woman of the kin. compare the greek idiom (greek text omitted). mr. risley finds that both kolarians, as the sonthals, and dravidians, as the oraons, are in this state of totemism, like the hos and mundas. it is most instructive to learn that, as one of these tribes rises in the social scale, it sloughs off its totem, and, abandoning the common name derived from bird, beast, or plant, adopts that of an eponymous ancestor. a tendency in this direction has been observed by messrs. fison and howitt even in australia. the mahilis, koras and kurmis, who profess to be members of the hindu community, still retain the totemistic organisation, with names derived from birds, beasts and plants. even the jagannathi kumhars of orissa, taking rank immediately below the writer-caste, have the totems tiger, snake, weasel, cow, frog, sparrow and tortoise. the sub-castes of the khatlya kumhars explain away their totem-names "as names of certain saints, who, being present at daksha's horse-sacrifice, transformed themselves into animals to escape the wrath of siva," like the gods of egypt when they fled in bestial form from the wrath of set. among the non-aryan tribes the marriage law has the totemistic sanction. no man may marry a woman of his totem kin. when the totem-name is changed for an eponym, the non-aryan, rising in the social scale, is practically in the same position as the brahmans, "divided into exogamous sections (gotras), the members of which profess to be descended from the mythical rishi or inspired saint whose name the gotra bears". there is thus nothing to bar the conjecture that the exogamous gotras of the whole brahmans were once a form of totem-kindred, which (like aspiring non-aryan stocks at the present day) dropped the totem-name and renamed the septs from some eponymous hero, medicine-man, or rishi. constant repetition of the same set of facts becomes irksome, and yet is made necessary by the legitimate demand for trustworthy and abundant evidence. as the reader must already have reflected, this living mythical belief in the common confused equality of men, gods, plants, beasts, rivers, and what not, which still regulates savage society,( ) is one of the most prominent features in mythology. porphyry remarked and exactly described it among the egyptians--"common and akin to men and gods they believed the beasts to be."( ) the belief in such equality is alien to modern civilisation. we have shown that it is common and fundamental in savagery. for instance, in the pacific, we might quote turner,( ) and for melanesia, codrington,( ) while for new zealand we have taylor.( ) for the jakuts, along the banks of the lena in northern asia, we have the evidence of strahlenberg, who writes: "each tribe of these people look upon some particular creature as sacred, e.g., a swan, goose, raven, etc., and such is not eaten by that tribe" though the others may eat it.( ) as the majority of our witnesses were quite unaware that the facts they described were common among races of whom many of them had never even heard, their evidence may surely be accepted as valid, especially as the beliefs testified to express themselves in marriage laws, in the blood-feud, in abstinence from food, on pillars over graves, in rude heraldry, and in other obvious and palpable shapes. if we have not made out, by the evidence of institutions, that a confused credulity concerning the equality and kinship of man and the objects in nature is actually a ruling belief among savages, and even higher races, from the lena to the amazon, from the gold coast to queensland, we may despair of ever convincing an opponent. the survival of the same beliefs and institutions among civilised races, aryan and others, will later be demonstrated.( ) if we find that the mythology of civilised races here agrees with the actual practical belief of savages, and if we also find that civilised races retain survivals of the institutions in which the belief is expressed by savages, then we may surely infer that the activity of beasts in the myths of greece springs from the same sources as the similar activity of beasts in the myths of iroquois or kaffirs. that is to say, part of the irrational element in greek myth will be shown to be derived (whether by inheritance or borrowing) from an ascertained condition of savage fancy. ( ) see some very curious and disgusting examples of this confusion in liebrecht's zur volkskunde, pp. , (heilbronn, ). ( ) de abst., ii. . ( ) nineteen years in polynesia, p. , and samoa by the same author. complete totemism is not asserted here, and is denied for melanesia. ( ) journ. anthrop. inst., "religious practices in melanesia". ( ) new zealand, "animal intermarriage with men". ( ) description of asia ( ), p. . ( ) professor robertson smith, kinship in arabia, attempts to show that totemism existed in the semitic races. the topic must be left to orientalists. chapter iv. the mental condition of savages--magic--metamorphosis--metaphysic--psychology. claims of sorcerers--savage scientific speculation--theory of causation--credulity, except as to new religious ideas--"post hoc, ergo propter hoc"--fundamental ideas of magic--examples: incantations, ghosts, spirits--evidence of rank and other institutions in proof of confusions of mind exhibited in magical beliefs. "i mean eftsoons to have a fling at magicians for their abominable lies and monstrous vanities."--pliny, ap. phil. holland. "quoy de ceux qui naturellement se changent en loups, en juments, et puis encores en hommes?"--montaigne, apologie pour raymond de sebonde. the second feature in the savage intellectual condition which we promised to investigate was the belief in magic and sorcery. the world and all the things in it being conceived of vaguely as sensible and rational, are supposed to obey the commands of certain members of each tribe, such as chiefs, jugglers, or conjurors. these conjurors, like zeus or indra, can affect the weather, work miracles, assume what shapes, animal, vegetable, or inorganic, they please, and can metamorphose other persons into similar shapes. it has already been shown that savage man has regarded all things as persons much on a level with himself. it has now to be shown what kind of person he conceives himself to be. he does not look on men as civilised races regard them, that is, as beings with strict limitations. on the other hand, he thinks of certain members of his tribe as exempt from most of the limitations, and capable of working every miracle that tradition has ever attributed to prophets or gods. nor are such miraculous powers, such practical omnipotence, supposed by savages to be at all rare among themselves. though highly valued, miraculous attainments are not believed to be unusual. this must be kept steadily in mind. when myth-making man regards the sky or sun or wind as a person, he does not mean merely a person with the limitations recognised by modern races. he means a person with the miraculous powers of the medicine-man. the sky, sun, wind or other elemental personage can converse with the dead, and can turn himself and his neighbours into animals, stones and trees. to understand these functions and their exercise, it is necessary to examine what may be called savage science, savage metaphysics, and the savage theory of the state of the dead. the medicine-man's supernatural claims are rooted in the general savage view of the world, of what is possible, and of what (if anything) is impossible. the savage, even more than the civilised man, may be described as a creature "moving about in worlds not realised". he feels, no less than civilised man, the need of making the world intelligible, and he is active in his search for causes and effects. there is much "speculation in these eyes that he doth glare withal". this is a statement which has been denied by some persons who have lived with savages. thus mr. bates, in his naturalist on the amazon,( ) writes: "their want of curiosity is extreme.... vicente (an indian companion) did not know the cause of thunder and lightning. i asked him who made the sun, the stars, the trees. he didn't know, and had never heard the subject mentioned in his tribe." but mr. bates admits that even vicente had a theory of the configuration of the world. "the necessity of a theory of the earth and water had been felt, and a theory had been suggested." again, mr. bates says about a certain brazilian tribe, "their sluggish minds seem unable to conceive or feel the want of a theory of the soul"; and he thinks the cause of this indolence is the lack "of a written language or a leisured class". now savages, as a rule, are all in the "leisured class," all sportsmen. mr. herbert spencer, too, has expressed scepticism about the curiosity attributed to savages. the point is important, because, in our view, the medicine-man's powers are rooted in the savage theory of things, and if the savage is too sluggish to invent or half consciously evolve a theory of things, our hypothesis is baseless. again, we expect to find in savage myths the answer given by savages to their own questions. but this view is impossible if savages do not ask themselves, and never have asked themselves, any questions at all about the world. on this topic mr. spencer writes: "along with absence of surprise there naturally goes absence of intelligent curiosity".( ) yet mr. spencer admits that, according to some witnesses, "the dyaks have an insatiable curiosity," the samoans "are usually very inquisitive," and "the tahitians are remarkably curious and inquisitive". nothing is more common than to find travellers complaining that savages, in their ardently inquiring curiosity, will not leave the european for a moment to his own undisturbed devices. mr. spencer's savages, who showed no curiosity, displayed this impassiveness when europeans were trying to make them exhibit signs of surprise. impassivity is a point of honour with many uncivilised races, and we cannot infer that a savage has no curiosity because he does not excite himself over a mirror, or when his european visitors try to swagger with their mechanical appliances. mr. herbert spencer founds, on the statements of mr. bates already quoted, a notion that "the savage, lacking ability to think and the accompanying desire to know, is without tendency to speculate". he backs mr. bates's experience with mungo park's failure to "draw" the negroes about the causes of day and night. they had never indulged a conjecture nor formed an hypothesis on the matter. yet park avers that "the belief in one god is entire and universal among them". this he "pronounces without the smallest shadow of doubt". as to "primitive man," according to mr. spencer, "the need for explanations about surrounding appearances does not occur to him". we have disclaimed all knowledge about "primitive man," but it is easy to show that mr. spencer grounds his belief in the lack of speculation among savages on a frail foundation of evidence. ( ) vol. ii. p. . ( ) sociology, p. . mr. spencer has admitted speculation, or at least curiosity, among new caledonians, new guinea people, dyaks, samoans and tahitians. even where he denies its existence, as among the amazon tribes mentioned by mr. bates, we happen to be able to show that mr. bates was misinformed. another traveller, the american geologist, professor hartt of cornell university, lived long among the tribes of the amazon. but professor hartt did not, like mr. bates, find them at all destitute of theories of things--theories expressed in myths, and testifying to the intellectual activity and curiosity which demands an answer to its questions. professor hartt, when he first became acquainted with the indians of the amazon, knew that they were well supplied with myths, and he set to work to collect them. but he found that neither by coaxing nor by offers of money could he persuade an indian to relate a myth. only by accident, "while wearily paddling up the paranamirim of the ituki," did he hear the steersman telling stories to the oarsmen to keep them awake. professor hartt furtively noted down the tale, and he found that by "setting the ball rolling," and narrating a story himself, he could make the natives throw off reserve and add to his stock of tales. "after one has obtained his first myth, and has learned to recite it accurately and spiritedly, the rest is easy." the tales published by professor hartt are chiefly animal stories, like those current in africa and among the red indians, and hartt even believed that many of the legends had been imported by negroes. but as the majority of the negro myths, like those of the australians, give a "reason why" for the existence of some phenomenon or other, the argument against early man's curiosity and vivacity of intellect is rather injured, even if the amazonian myths were imported from africa. mr. spencer based his disbelief in the intellectual curiosity of the amazonian tribes and of negroes on the reports of mr. bates and of mungo park. but it turns out that both negroes and amazonians have stories which do satisfy an unscientific curiosity, and it is even held that the negroes lent the amazonians these very stories.( ) the kamschadals, according to steller, "give themselves a reason why for everything, according to their own lively fancy, and do not leave the smallest matter uncriticised".( ) as far, then, as mr. spencer's objections apply to existing savages, we may consider them overweighed by the evidence, and we may believe in a naive savage curiosity about the world and desire for explanations of the causes of things. mr. tylor's opinion corroborates our own: "man's craving to know the causes at work in each event he witnesses, the reasons why each state of things he surveys is such as it is and no other, is no product of high civilisation, but a characteristic of his race down to its lowest stages. among rude savages it is already an intellectual appetite, whose satisfaction claims many of the moments not engrossed by war or sport, food or sleep. even in the botocudo or the australian, scientific speculation has its germ in actual experience."( ) it will be shown later that the food of the savage intellectual appetite is offered and consumed in the shape of explanatory myths. ( ) see amazonian tortoise-myth., pp. , , ; and compare mr. harris's preface to nights with uncle remus. ( ) steller, p. . cf. farrer's primitive manners, p. . ( ) primitive culture, i. . but we must now observe that the "actual experience," properly so called, of the savage is so limited and so coloured by misconception and superstition, that his knowledge of the world varies very much from the conceptions of civilised races. he seeks an explanation, a theory of things, based on his experience. but his knowledge of physical causes and of natural laws is exceedingly scanty, and he is driven to fall back upon what we may call metaphysical, or, in many cases "supernatural" explanations. the narrower the range of man's knowledge of physical causes, the wider is the field which he has to fill up with hypothetical causes of a metaphysical or "supernatural" character. these "supernatural" causes themselves the savage believes to be matters of experience. it is to his mind a matter of experience that all nature is personal and animated; that men may change shapes with beasts; that incantations and supernatural beings can cause sunshine and storm. a good example of this is given in charlevoix's work on french canada.( ) charlevoix was a jesuit father and missionary among the hurons and other tribes of north america. he thus describes the philosophy of the red men: "the hurons attribute the most ordinary effects to supernatural causes".( ) in the same page the good father himself attributes the welcome arrival of rainy weather and the cure of certain savage patients to the prayers of pere brebeuf and to the exhibition of the sacraments. charlevoix had considerably extended the field in which natural effects are known to be produced by natural causes. he was much more scientifically minded than his savage flock, and was quite aware that an ordinary clock with a pendulum cannot bring bad luck to a whole tribe, and that a weather-cock is not a magical machine for securing unpleasant weather. the hurons, however, knowing less of natural causes and nothing of modern machinery, were as convinced that his clock was ruining the luck of the tribe and his weather-cock spoiling the weather, as father charlevoix could be of the truth of his own inferences. one or two other anecdotes in the good father's history and letters help to explain the difference between the philosophies of wild and of christian men. the pere brebeuf was once summoned at the instigation of a huron wizard or "medicine-man" before a council of the tribe. his judges told the father that nothing had gone right since he appeared among them. to this brebeuf replied by "drawing the attention of the savages to the absurdity of their principles". he admitted( ) the premise that nothing had turned out well in the tribe since his arrival. "but the reason," said he, "plainly is that god is angry with your hardness of heart." no sooner had the good father thus demonstrated the absurdity of savage principles of reasoning, than the malignant huron wizard fell down dead at his feet! this event naturally added to the confusion of the savages. ( ) histoire de la france-nouvelle. ( ) vol. i. p. . ( ) vol. i. p. . coincidences of this sort have a great effect on savage minds. catlin, the friend of the mandan tribe, mentions a chief who consolidated his power by aid of a little arsenic, bought from the whites. the chief used to prophesy the sudden death of his opponents, which always occurred at the time indicated. the natural results of the administration of arsenic were attributed by the barbarous people to supernatural powers in the possession of the chief.( ) thus the philosophy of savages seeks causas cognoscere rerum, like the philosophy of civilised men, but it flies hastily to a hypothesis of "supernatural" causes which are only guessed at, and are incapable of demonstration. this frame of mind prevails still in civilised countries, as the bishop of nantes showed when, in , he attributed the floods of the loire to "the excesses of the press and the general disregard of sunday". that "supernatural" causes exist and may operate, it is not at all our intention to deny. but the habit of looking everywhere for such causes, and of assuming their interference at will, is the main characteristic of savage speculation. the peculiarity of the savage is that he thinks human agents can work supernaturally, whereas even the bishop reserved his supernatural explanations for the deity. on this belief in man's power to affect events beyond the limits of natural possibility is based the whole theory of magic, the whole power of sorcerers. that theory, again, finds incessant expression in myth, and therefore deserves our attention. ( ) catlin, letters, ii. . the theory requires for its existence an almost boundless credulity. this credulity appears to europeans to prevail in full force among savages. bosman is amazed by the african belief that a spider created the world. moffat is astonished at the south african notion that the sea was accidentally created by a girl. charlevoix says, "les sauvages sont d'une facilite a croire ce qu'on leur dit, que les plus facheuse experiences n'ont jamais pu guerir".( ) but it is a curious fact that while savages are, as a rule, so credulous, they often laugh at the religious doctrines taught them by missionaries. elsewhere they recognise certain essential doctrines as familiar forms of old. dr. moffat remarks, "to speak of the creation, the fall and the resurrection, seemed more fabulous, extravagant and ludicrous to them than their own vain stories of lions and hyaenas." again, "the gospel appeared too preposterous for the most foolish to believe".( ) while the zulus declared that they used to accept their own myths without inquiry,( ) it was a zulu who suggested to bishop colenso his doubts about the historical character of the noachian deluge. hearne( ) knew a red man, matorabhee, who, "though a perfect bigot with regard to the arts and tricks of the jugglers, could yet by no means be impressed with a belief of any part of our religion". lieutenant haggard, r.n., tells the writer that during an eclipse at lamoo he ridiculed the native notion of driving away a beast which devours the moon, and explained the real cause of the phenomenon. but his native friend protested that "he could not be expected to believe such a story". yet other savages aver an old agreement with the belief in a moral creator. ( ) vol. ii. p. . ( ) missionary labours, p. . ( ) callaway, religion of amazulus, i. . ( ) journey among the indians, , p. . we have already seen sufficient examples of credulity in savage doctrines about the equal relations of men and beasts, stars, clouds and plants. the same readiness of belief, which would be surprising in a christian child, has been found to regulate the rudimentary political organisations of grey barbarians. add to this credulity a philosophy which takes resemblance, or contiguity in space, or nearness in time as a sufficient reason for predicating the relations of cause and effect, and we have the basis of savage physical science. yet the metaphysical theories of savages, as expressed in maori, polynesian, and zuni hymns, often amaze us by their wealth of abstract ideas. coincidence elsewhere stands for cause. post hoc, ergo propter hoc, is the motto of the savage philosophy of causation. the untutored reasoner speculates on the principles of the egyptian clergy, as described by herodotus.( ) "the egyptians have discovered more omens and prodigies than any other men; for when aught prodigious occurs, they keep good watch, and write down what follows; and then, if anything like the prodigy be repeated, they expect the same events to follow as before." this way of looking at things is the very essence of superstition. ( ) ii. p. . savages, as a rule, are not even so scientific as the egyptians. when an untoward event occurs, they look for its cause among all the less familiar circumstances of the last few days, and select the determining cause very much at random. thus the arrival of the french missionaries among the hurons was coincident with certain unfortunate events; therefore it was argued that the advent of the missionaries was the cause of the misfortune. when the bechuanas suffered from drought, they attributed the lack of rain to the arrival of dr. moffat, and especially to his beard, his church bell, and a bag of salt in his possession. here there was not even the pretence of analogy between cause and effect. some savages might have argued (it is quite in their style), that as salt causes thirst, a bag of salt causes drought; but no such case could be made out against dr. moffat's bell and beard. to give an example from the beliefs of english peasants. when a cottage was buried by a little avalanche in , the accident was attributed to the carelessness of the cottagers, who had allowed a light to be taken out of their dwelling in christmas-tide.( ) we see the same confusion between antecedence and consequence in time on one side, and cause and effect on the other, when the red indians aver that birds actually bring winds and storms or fair weather. they take literally the sense of the rhodian swallow-song:-- the swallow hath come, bringing fair hours, bringing fair seasons, on black back and white breast.( ) ( ) shropshire folk-lore, by miss burne, iii. . ( ) brinton, myths of new world, p. . again, in the pacific the people of one island always attribute hurricanes to the machinations of the people of the nearest island to windward. the wind comes from them; therefore (as their medicine-men can notoriously influence the weather), they must have sent the wind. this unneighbourly act is a casus belli, and through the whole of a group of islands the banner of war, like the flag of freedom in byron, flies against the wind. the chief principle, then, of savage science is that antecedence and consequence in time are the same as effect and cause.( ) again, savage science holds that like affects like, that you can injure a man, for example, by injuring his effigy. on these principles the savage explains the world to himself, and on these principles he tries to subdue to himself the world. now the putting of these principles into practice is simply the exercise of art magic, an art to which nothing seems impossible. the belief that his shamans or medicine-men practise this art is universal among savages. it seriously affects their conduct, and is reflected in their myths. ( ) see account of zuni metaphysics in chapter on american divine myths. the one general rule which governs all magical reasoning is, that casual connection in thought is equivalent to causative connection in fact. like suggests like to human thought by association of ideas; wherefore like influences like, or produces analogous effects in practice. any object once in a man's possession, especially his hair or his nails, is supposed to be capable of being used against him by a sorcerer. the part suggests the whole. a lock of a man's hair was part of the man; to destroy the hair is to destroy its former owner. again, whatever event follows another in time suggests it, and may have been caused by it. accompanying these ideas is the belief that nature is peopled by invisible spiritual powers, over which magicians and sorcerers possess influence. the magic of the lower races chiefly turns on these two beliefs. first, "man having come to associate in thought those things which he found by experience to be connected in fact, proceeded erroneously to invert their action, and to conclude that association in thought must involve similar connection in reality. he thus attempted to discover, to foretell, and to cause events, by means of processes which we now see to have only an ideal significance."( ) secondly, man endeavoured to make disembodied spirits of the dead, or any other spirits, obedient to his will. savage philosophy presumes that the beliefs are correct, and that their practical application is successful. examples of the first of the two chief magical ideas are as common in unscientific modern times or among unscientific modern people as in the savage world. ( ) primitive culture, i. . the physicians of the age of charles ii. were wont to give their patients "mummy powder," that is, pulverised mummy. they argued that the mummy had lasted for a very long time, and that the patients ought to do so likewise. pliny imagined that diamonds must be found in company with gold, because these are the most perfect substances in the world, and like should draw to like. aurum potabile, or drinkable gold, was a favourite medical nostrum of the middle ages, because gold, being perfect, should produce perfect health. among savages the belief that like is caused by like is exemplified in very many practices. the new caledonians, when they wish their yam plots to be fertile, bury in them with mystic ceremonies certain stones which are naturally shaped like yams. the melanesians have reduced this kind of magic to a system. among them certain stones have a magical efficacy, which is determined in each case by the shape of the stone. "a stone in the shape of a pig, of a bread-fruit, of a yam, was a most valuable find. no garden was planted without the stones which were to increase the crop."( ) stones with a rude resemblance to beasts bring the zuni luck in the chase. ( ) rev. r. h. codrington, journ. anth. inst., february, . the spiritual theory in some places is mixed up with the "like to like" theory, and the magical stones are found where the spirits have been heard twittering and whistling. "a large stone lying with a number of small ones under it, like a sow among her sucklings, was good for a childless woman."( ) it is the savage belief that stones reproduce their species, a belief consonant with the general theory of universal animation and personality. the ancient belief that diamonds gendered diamonds is a survival from these ideas. "a stone with little disks upon it was good to bring in money; any fanciful interpretation of a mark was enough to give a character to the stone and its associated vui" or spirit in melanesia. in scotland, stones shaped like various parts of the human body are expected to cure the diseases with which these members may be afflicted. "these stones were called by the names of the limbs which they represented, as 'eye-stone,' 'head-stone'." the patient washed the affected part of the body, and rubbed it well with the stone corresponding.( ) ( ) codrington, journ. anth. soc., x. iii. . ( ) gregor, folk-lore of north-east counties, p. . to return from european peasant-magic to that of savages, we find that when the bushmen want wet weather they light fires, believing that the black smoke clouds will attract black rain clouds; while the zulus sacrifice black cattle to attract black clouds of rain.( ) though this magic has its origin in savage ignorance, it survives into civilisation. thus the sacrifices of the vedic age were imitations of the natural phenomena which the priests desired to produce.( ) "c'etait un moyen de faire tombre la pluie en realisant, par les representations terrestres des eaux du nuage et de l'eclair, les conditions dans lesquelles celui-ci determine dans le ciel l'epanchement de celles-la." a good example of magical science is afforded by the medical practice of the dacotahs of north america.( ) when any one is ill, an image of his disease, a boil or what not, is carved in wood. this little image is then placed in a bowl of water and shot at with a gun. the image of the disease being destroyed, the disease itself is expected to disappear. compare the magic of the philistines, who made golden images of the sores which plagued them and stowed them away in the ark.( ) the custom of making a wax statuette of an enemy, and piercing it with pins or melting it before the fire, so that the detested person might waste as his semblance melted, was common in mediaeval europe, was known to plato, and is practised by negroes. some australians take some of the hair of an enemy, mix it with grease and the feathers of the eagle, and burn it in the fire. this is "bar" or black magic. the boarding under the chair of a magistrate in barbadoes was lifted not long ago, and the ground beneath was found covered with wax images of litigants stuck full of pins. ( ) callaway, i. . ( ) bergaigne, religion vedique, i. - , i., vii., viii. ( ) schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) samuel vi. , . the war-magic of the dacotahs works in a similar manner. before a party starts on the war-trail, the chief, with various ceremonies, takes his club and stands before his tent. an old witch bowls hoops at him; each hoop represents an enemy, and for each he strikes a foeman is expected to fall. a bowl of sweetened water is also set out to entice the spirits of the enemy.( ) the war-magic of the aryans in india does not differ much in character from that of the dacotahs. "if any one wishes his army to be victorious, he should go beyond the battle-line, cut a stalk of grass at the top and end, and throw it against the hostile army with the words, prasahe kas trapasyati?--o prasaha, who sees thee? if one who has such knowledge cuts a stalk of grass and throws the parts at the hostile army, it becomes split and dissolved, just as a daughter-in-law becomes abashed and faints when seeing her father-in-law,"--an allusion, apparently, to the widespread tabu which makes fathers-in-law, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, and mothers-in-law avoid each other.( ) ( ) schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) aitareya brahmana, iii. . the hunt-dances of the red indians and australians are arranged like their war-magic. effigies of the bears, deer, or kangaroos are made, or some of the hunters imitate the motions of these animals. the rest of the dancers pretend to spear them, and it is hoped that this will ensure success among the real bears and kangaroos. here is a singular piece of magic in which europeans and australian blacks agree. boris godunoff made his servants swear never to injure him by casting spells with the dust on which his feet or his carriage wheels had left traces.( ) mr. howitt finds the same magic among the kurnai.( ) "seeing a tatungolung very lame, i asked him what was the matter. he said, 'some fellow has put bottle in my foot'. i found he was probably suffering from acute rheumatism. he explained that some enemy must have found his foot-track and have buried in it a piece of broken bottle. the magic influence, he believed, caused it to enter his foot." on another occasion a native told mr. howitt that he had seen black fellows putting poison in his foot-tracks. bosman mentions a similar practice among the people of guinea. in scottish folk-lore a screw nail is fixed into the footprint of the person who is to be injured. ( ) rambaud's history of russia, english trans., i. . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . just as these magical efforts to influence like by like work their way into vedic and other religions, so they are introduced into the religion of the savage. his prayers are addresses to some sort of superior being, but the efficacy of the prayer is often eked out by a little magic, unless indeed we prefer to suppose that the words of the supplication are interpreted by gesture-speech. sproat writes: "set words and gestures are used according to the thing desired. for instance, in praying for salmon, the native rubs the backs of his hands, looks upwards, and mutters the words, 'many salmon, many salmon'. if he wishes for deer, he carefully rubs both eyes; or, if it is geese, he rubs the back of his shoulder, uttering always in a sing-song way the accustomed formula.... all these practices in praying no doubt have a meaning. we may see a steady hand is needed in throwing the salmon-spear, and clear eyesight in finding deer in the forest."( ) ( ) savage life, p. . in addition to these forms of symbolical magic (which might be multiplied to any extent), we find among savages the belief in the power of songs of incantation. this is a feature of magic which specially deserves our attention. in myths, and still more in marchen or household tales, we shall constantly find that the most miraculous effects are caused when the hero pronounces a few lines of rhyme. in rome, as we have all read in the latin delectus, it was thought that incantations could draw down the moon. in the odyssey the kinsfolk of odysseus sing "a song of healing" over the wound which was dealt him by the boar's tusk. jeanne d'arc, wounded at orleans, refused a similar remedy. sophocles speaks of the folly of muttering incantations over wounds that need the surgeon's knife. the song that salved wounds occurs in the kalewala, the epic poem of the finns. in many of grimm's marchen, miracles are wrought by the repetition of snatches of rhyme. this belief is derived from the savage state of fancy. according to kohl,( ) "every sorrowful or joyful emotion that opens the indian's mouth is at once wrapped up in the garb of a wabanonagamowin (chanson magicale). if you ask one of them to sing you a simple innocent hymn in praise of nature, a spring or jovial hunting stave, he never gives you anything but a form of incantation, with which he says you will be able to call to you all the birds from the sky, and all the foxes and wolves from their caves and burrows."( ) the giant's daughter in the scotch marchen, nicht, nought, nothing, is thus enabled to call to her aid "all the birds of the sky". in the same way, if you ask an indian for a love-song, he will say that a philtre is really much more efficacious. the savage, in short, is extremely practical. his arts, music and drawing, exist not pour l'art, but for a definite purpose, as methods of getting something that the artist wants. the young lover whom kohl knew, like the lover of bombyca in theocritus, believed in having an image of himself and an image of the beloved. into the heart of the female image he thrust magic powders, and he said that this was common, lovers adding songs, "partly elegiac, partly malicious, and almost criminal forms of incantation".( ) ( ) page . ( ) cf. comparetti's traditional poetry of the finns. ( ) kitchi gami, pp. , . among the indo-aryans the masaminik or incantations of the red man are known as mantras.( ) these are usually texts from the veda, and are chanted over the sick and in other circumstances where magic is believed to be efficacious. among the new zealanders the incantations are called karakias, and are employed in actual life. there is a special karakia to raise the wind. in maori myths the hero is very handy with his karakia. rocks split before him, as before girls who use incantations in kaffir and bushman tales. he assumes the shape of any animal at will, or flies in the air, all by virtue of the karakia or incantation.( ) ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, v. , "incantations from the atharva veda". ( ) taylor's new zealand; theal's kaffir folk-lore, south-african folk-lore journal, passim; shortland's traditions of the new zealanders, pp. - . without multiplying examples in the savage belief that miracles can be wrought by virtue of physical correspondances, by like acting on like, by the part affecting the whole, and so forth, we may go on to the magical results produced by the aid of spirits. these may be either spirits of the dead or spiritual essences that never animated mortal men. savage magic or science rests partly on the belief that the world is peopled by a "choir invisible," or rather by a choir only occasionally visible to certain gifted people, sorcerers and diviners. an enormous amount of evidence to prove the existence of these tenets has been collected by mr. tylor, and is accessible to all in the chapters on "animism" in his primitive culture. it is not our business here to account for the universality of the belief in spirits. mr. tylor, following lucretius and homer, derives the belief from the reasonings of early men on the phenomena of dreams, fainting, shadows, visions caused by narcotics, hallucinations, and other facts which suggest the hypothesis of a separable life apart from the bodily organism. it would scarcely be fair not to add that the kind of "facts" investigated by the psychical society--such "facts" as the appearance of men at the moment of death in places remote from the scene of their decease, with such real or delusive experiences as the noises and visions in haunted houses--are familiar to savages. without discussing these obscure matters, it may be said that they influence the thoughts even of some scientifically trained and civilised men. it is natural, therefore, that they should strongly sway the credulous imagination of backward races, in which they originate or confirm the belief that life can exist and manifest itself after the death of the body.( ) ( ) see the author's making of religion, . some examples of savage "ghost-stories," precisely analogous to the "facts" of the psychical society's investigations, may be adduced. the first is curious because it offers among the kanekas an example of a belief current in breton folk-lore. the story is vouched for by mr. j. j. atkinson, late of noumea, new caledonia. mr. atkinson, we have reason to believe, was unacquainted with the breton parallel. to him one day a kaneka of his acquaintance paid a visit, and seemed loth to go away. he took leave, returned, and took leave again, till mr. atkinson asked him the reason of his behaviour. he then explained that he was about to die, and would never see his english friend again. as he seemed in perfect health, mr. atkinson rallied him on his hypochondria; but the poor fellow replied that his fate was sealed. he had lately met in the wood one whom he took for the kaneka girl of his heart; but he became aware too late that she was no mortal woman, but a wood-spirit in the guise of the beloved. the result would be his death within three days, and, as a matter of fact, he died. this is the groundwork of the old breton ballad of le sieur nan, who dies after his intrigue with the forest spectre.( ) a tale more like a common modern ghost-story is vouched for by mr. c. j. du ve, in australia. in the year , a maneroo black fellow died in the service of mr. du ve. "the day before he died, having been ill some time, he said that in the night his father, his father's friend, and a female spirit he could not recognise, had come to him and said that he would die next day, and that they would wait for him. mr. du ye adds that, though previously the christian belief had been explained to this man, it had entirely faded, and that he had gone back to the belief of his childhood." mr. fison, who prints this tale in his kamilaroi and kurnai,( ) adds, "i could give many similar instances which have come within my own knowledge among the fijians, and, strange to say, the dying man in all these cases kept his appointment with the ghosts to the very day". ( ) it may, of course, be conjectured that the french introduced this belief into new caledonia. ( ) page . in the cruise of the beagle is a parallel anecdote of a fuegian, jimmy button, and his father's ghost. without entering into a discussion of ghosts, it is plain that the kind of evidence, whatever its value may be, which convinces many educated europeans of the existence of "veridical" apparitions has also played its part in the philosophy of uncivilised races. on this belief in apparitions, then, is based the power of the savage sorcerers and necromants, of the men who converse with the dead and are aided by disembodied spirits. these men have greatly influenced the beginnings of mythology. among certain australian tribes the necromants are called birraark.( ) "the kurnai tell me," says mr. howitt, "that a birraark was supposed to be initiated by the 'mrarts (ghosts) when they met him wandering in the bush.... it was from the ghosts that he obtained replies to questions concerning events passing at a distance or yet to happen, which might be of interest or moment to his tribe." mr. howitt prints an account of a spiritual seance in the bush.( ) "the fires were let go down. the birraark uttered a cry 'coo-ee' at intervals. at length a distant reply was heard, and shortly afterwards the sound as of persons jumping on the ground in succession. a voice was then heard in the gloom asking in a strange intonation, 'what is wanted?' questions were put by the birraark and replies given. at the termination of the seance, the spirit-voice said, 'we are going'. finally, the birraark was found in the top of an almost inaccessible tree, apparently asleep."( ) there was one birraark at least to every clan. the kurnai gave the name of "brewin" (a powerful evil spirit) to a birraark who was once carried away for several days by the mrarts or spirits.( ) it is a belief with the australians, as, according to bosman, it was with the people of the gold coast, that a very powerful wizard lives far inland, and the negroes held that to this warlock the spirits of the dead went to be judged according to the merit of their actions in life. here we have a doctrine answering to the greek belief in "the wizard minos," aeacus, and rhadamanthus, and to the egyptian idea of osiris as judge of the departed.( ) the pretensions of the sorcerer to converse with the dead are attested by mr. brough smyth.( ) "a sorcerer lying on his stomach spoke to the deceased, and the other sitting by his side received the precious messages which the dead man told." as a natural result of these beliefs, the australian necromant has great power in the tribe. mr. howitt mentions a case in which a group of kindred, ceasing to use their old totemistic surname, called themselves the children of a famous dead birraark, who thus became an eponymous hero, like ion among the ionians.( ) among the scotch highlanders the position and practice of the seer were very like those of the birraark. "a person," says scott,( ) "was wrapped up in the skin of a newly slain bullock and deposited beside a waterfall or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some other strange, wild and unusual situation, where the scenery around him suggested nothing but objects of horror. in this situation he revolved in his mind the question proposed and whatever was impressed on him by his exalted imagination passed for the inspiration of the disembodied spirits who haunt these desolate recesses." a number of examples are given in martin's description of the western islands.( ) in the century magazine (july, ) is a very full report of thlinkeet medicine-men and metamorphoses. ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) page . ( ) in the jesuit relations ( ), p. , we read that the red indian sorcerer or jossakeed was credited with power to vanish suddenly away out of sight of the men standing around him. of him, as of homeric gods, it might be said, "who has power to see him come or go against his will?" ( ) here, in the first edition, occurred the following passage: "the conception of brewin is about as near as the kurnai get to the idea of a god; their conferring of his name on a powerful sorcerer is therefore a point of importance and interest". mr. howitt's later knowledge demonstrates an error here. ( ) bosman in pinkerton, xvi. p. . ( ) aborigines of australia, i. . ( ) in victoria, after dark the wizard goes up to the clouds and brings down a good spirit. dawkins, p. . for eponymous medicine-men see kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) lady of the lake, note to canto iv. ( ) p. . the sorcerer among the zulus is, apparently, of a naturally hysterical and nervous constitution. "he hears the spirits who speak by whistlings speaking to him."( ) whistling is also the language of the ghosts in new caledonia, where mr. atkinson informs us that he has occasionally put an able-bodied kaneka to ignominious flight by whistling softly in the dusk. the ghosts in homer make a similar sound, "and even as bats flit gibbering in the secret place of a wondrous cavern,... even so the souls gibbered as they fared together" (odyssey, xxiv. ). "the familiar spirits make him" (that zulu sorcerer) "acquainted with what is about to happen, and then he divines for the people." as the birraarks learn songs and dance-music from the mrarts, so the zulu inyanga or diviners learn magical couplets from the itongo or spirits.( ) ( ) callaway, religious system of the amazules, p. . ( ) on all this, see "possession" in the making of religion. the evidence of institutions confirms the reports about savage belief in magic. the political power of the diviners is very great, as may be observed from the fact that a hereditary chief needs their consecration to make him a chief de jure.( ) in fact, the qualities of the diviner are those which give his sacred authority to the chief. when he has obtained from the diviners all their medicines and information as to the mode of using the isitundu (a magical vessel), it is said that he often orders them to be killed. now, the chief is so far a medicine-man that he is lord of the air. "the heaven is the chief's," say the zulus; and when he calls out his men, "though the heaven is clear, it becomes clouded by the great wind that arises". other zulus explain this as the mere hyperbole of adulation. "the word of the chief gives confidence to his troops; they say, 'we are going; the chief has already seen all that will happen in his vessel'. such then are chiefs; they use a vessel for divination."( ) the makers of rain are known in zululand as "heaven-herds" or "sky-herds," who herd the heaven that it may not break out and do its will on the property of the people. these men are, in fact, (greek text omitted), "cloud-gatherers," like the homeric zeus, the lord of the heavens. their name of "herds of the heavens" has a vedic sound. "the herd that herds the lightning," say the zulus, "does the same as the herder of the cattle; he does as he does by whistling; he says, 'tshu-i-i-i. depart and go yonder. do not come here.'" here let it be observed that the zulus conceive of the thunder-clouds and lightning as actual creatures, capable of being herded like sheep. there is no metaphor or allegory about the matter,( ) and no forgetfulness of the original meaning of words. the cloud-herd is just like the cowherd, except that not every man, but only sorcerers, and they who have eaten the "lightning-bird" (a bird shot near the place where lightning has struck the earth), can herd the clouds of heaven. the same ideas prevail among the bushmen, where the rainmaker is asked "to milk a nice gentle female rain"; the rain-clouds are her hair. among the bushmen rain is a person. among the red indians no metaphor seems to be intended when it is said that "it is always birds who make the wind, except that of the east". the dacotahs once killed a thunder-bird( ) behind little crow's village on the missouri. it had a face like a man with a nose like an eagle's bill.( ) ( ) callaway, p. . ( ) callaway, religions system of the amazules, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) schoolcraft, iii. . ( ) compare callaway, p. . the political and social powers which come into the hands of the sorcerers are manifest, even in the case of the australians. tribes and individuals can attempt few enterprises without the aid of the man who listens to the ghosts. only he can foretell the future, and, in the case of the natural death of a member of the tribe, can direct the vengeance of the survivors against the hostile magician who has committed a murder by "bar" or magic. among the zulus we have seen that sorcery gives the sanction to the power of the chief. "the winds and weather are at the command" of bosman's "great fetisher". inland from the gold coast,( ) the king of loango, according to the abbe proyart, "has credit to make rain fall on earth". similar beliefs, with like political results, will be found to follow from the superstition of magic among the red indians of north america. the difficulty of writing about sorcerers among the red indians is caused by the abundance of the evidence. charlevoix and the other early jesuit missionaries found that the jongleurs, as charlevoix calls the jossakeeds or medicine-men, were their chief opponents. as among the scotch highlanders, the australians and the zulus, the red indian jongleur is visited by the spirits. he covers a hut with the skin of the animal which he commonly wears, retires thither, and there converses with the bodiless beings.( ) the good missionary like mr. moffat in africa, was convinced that the exercises of the jossakeeds were verily supernatural. "ces seducteurs ont un veritable commerce avec le pere du mensonge."( ) this was denied by earlier and wiser jesuit missionaries. their political power was naturally great. in time of war "ils avancent et retardent les marches comme il leur plait". in our own century it was a medicine-man, ten squa ta way, who by his magical processes and superstitious rites stirred up a formidable war against the united states.( ) according to mr. pond,( ) the native name of the dacotah medicine-men, "wakan," signifies "men supernaturally gifted". medicine-men are believed to be "wakanised" by mystic intercourse with supernatural beings. the business of the wakanised man is to discern future events, to lead and direct parties on the war-trail, "to raise the storm or calm the tempest, to converse with the lightning or thunder as with familiar friends".( ) the wakanised man, like the australian birraark and the zulu diviner, "dictates chants and prayers". in battle "every dacotah warrior looks to the wakan man as almost his only resource". belief in wakan men is, mr. pond says, universal among the dacotahs, except where christianity has undermined it. "their influence is deeply felt by every individual of the tribe, and controls all their affairs." the wakan man's functions are absorbed by the general or war-chief of the tribe, and in schoolcraft (iv. ), captain eastman prints copies of native scrolls showing the war-chief at work as a wizard. "the war-chief who leads the party to war is always one of these medicine-men." in another passage the medicine-men are described as "having a voice in the sale of land". it must be observed that the jossakeed, or medicine-man, pure and simple, exercises a power which is not in itself hereditary. chieftainship, when associated with inheritance of property, is hereditary; and when the chief, as among the zulus, absorbs supernatural power, then the same man becomes diviner and chief, and is a person of great and sacred influence. the liveliest account of the performances of the maori "tohunga" or sorcerer is to be found in old new zealand,( ) by the pakeha maori, an english gentleman who had lived with the natives like one of themselves. the tohunga, says this author,( ) presided over "all those services and customs which had something approaching to a religious character. they also pretended to power by means of certain familiar spirits, to foretell future events, and even in some cases to control them.... the spirit 'entered into' them, and, on being questioned, gave a response in a sort of half whistling, half-articulate voice, supposed to be the proper language of spirits." in new south wales, mrs. langlot parker has witnessed a similar exhibition. the "spirits" told the truth in this case. the pakeha maori was present in a darkened village-hall when the spirit of a young man, a great friend of his own, was called up by a tohunga. "suddenly, without the slightest warning, a voice came out of the darkness.... the voice all through, it is to be remembered, was not the voice of the tohunga, but a strange melancholy sound, like the sound of a wind blowing into a hollow vessel. 'it is well with me; my place is a good place.' the spirit gave an answer to a question which proved to be correct, and then 'farewell,' cried the spirit from deep beneath the ground. 'farewell,' again, from high in air. 'farewell,' once more came moaning through the distant darkness of the night." as chiefs in new zealand no less than tohungas can exercise the mystical and magical power of tabu, that is, of imparting to any object or person an inviolable character, and can prevent or remit the mysterious punishment for infringement of tabu, it appears probable that in new zealand, as well as among the zulus and red indians, chiefs have a tendency to absorb the sacred character and powers of the tohungas. this is natural enough, for a tohunga, if he plays his cards well, is sure to acquire property and hereditary wealth, which, in combination with magical influence, are the necessary qualifications for the office of the chieftain. ( ) pinkerton, xvi. . ( ) charlevoix, i. . see "savage spiritualism" in cock lane and common sense. ( ) ibid., iii. . ( ) catlin, ii. . ( ) in schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) pond, in schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) auckland, . ( ) page . here is the place to mention a fact which, though at first sight it may appear to have only a social interest, yet bears on the development of mythology. property and rank seem to have been essential to each other in the making of social rank, and where one is absent among contemporary savages, there we do not find the other. as an example of this, we might take the case of two peoples who, like the homeric ethiopians, are the outermost of men, and dwell far apart at the ends of the world. the eskimos and the fuegians, at the extreme north and south of the american continent, agree in having little or no private property and no chiefs. yet magic is providing a kind of basis of rank. the bleak plains of ice and rock are, like attica, "the mother of men without master or lord". among the "house-mates" of the smaller settlements there is no head-man, and in the larger gatherings dr. rink says that "still less than among the house-mates was any one belonging to such a place to be considered a chief". the songs and stories of the eskimo contain the praises of men who have risen up and killed any usurper who tried to be a ruler over his "place-mates". no one could possibly establish any authority on the basis of property, because "superfluous property, implements, etc., rarely existed". if there are three boats in one household, one of the boats is "borrowed" by the community, and reverts to the general fund. if we look at the account of the fuegians described in admiral fitzroy's cruise, we find a similar absence of rank produced by similar causes. "the perfect equality among the individuals composing the tribes must for a long time retard their civilisation.... at present even a piece of cloth is torn in shreds and distributed, and no one individual becomes richer than another. on the other hand, it is difficult to understand how a chief can arise till there is property of some sort by which he might manifest and still increase his authority." in the same book, however, we get a glimpse of one means by which authority can be exercised. "the doctor-wizard of each party has much influence over his companions." among the eskimos this element in the growth of authority also exists. a class of wizards called angakut have power to cause fine weather, and, by the gift of second-sight and magical practices, can detect crimes, so that they necessarily become a kind of civil magistrates. these angekkok or angakut have familiar spirits called torngak, a word connected with the name of their chief spiritual being, torngarsak. the torngak is commonly the ghost of a deceased parent of the sorcerer. "these men," says egede, "are held in great honour and esteem among this stupid and ignorant nation, insomuch that nobody dare ever refuse the strictest obedience when they command him in the name of torngarsak." the importance and actual existence of belief in magic has thus been attested by the evidence of institutions, even among australians, fuegians and eskimos. it is now necessary to pass from examples of tribes who have superstitious respect for certain individuals, but who have no property and no chiefs, to peoples who exhibit the phenomenon of superstitious reverence attached to wealthy rulers or to judges. to take the example of ireland, as described in the senchus mor, we learn that the chiefs, just like the angakut of the eskimos, had "power to make fair or foul weather" in the literal sense of the words.( ) in africa, in the same way, as bosman, the old traveller, says, "as to what difference there is between one negro and another, the richest man is the most honoured," yet the most honoured man has the same magical power as the poor angakuts of the eskimos. ( ) early history of institutions, p. . "in the solomon islands," says dr. codrington, "there is nothing to prevent a common man from becoming a chief, if he can show that he has the mana (supernatural power) for it."( ) ( ) journ. anth. inst., x. iii. , , . though it is anticipating a later stage of this inquiry, we must here observe that the sacredness, and even the magical virtues of barbarous chiefs seem to have descended to the early leaders of european races. the children of odin and of zeus were "sacred kings". the homeric chiefs, like those of the zulus and the red men, and of the early irish and swedes, exercised an influence over the physical universe. homer( ) speaks of "a blameless king, one that fears the gods, and reigns among many men and mighty, and the black earth bears wheat and barley, and the sheep bring forth and fail not, and the sea gives store of fish, and all out of his good sovereignty". ( ) od., xix. . the attributes usually assigned by barbarous peoples to their medicine-men have not yet been exhausted. we have found that they can foresee and declare the future; that they control the weather and the sensible world; that they can converse with, visit and employ about their own business the souls of the dead. it would be easy to show at even greater length that the medicine-man has everywhere the power of metamorphosis. he can assume the shapes of all beasts, birds, fishes, insects and inorganic matters, and he can subdue other people to the same enchantment. this belief obviously rests on the lack of recognised distinction between man and the rest of the world, which we have so frequently insisted on as a characteristic of savage and barbarous thought. examples of accredited metamorphosis are so common everywhere, and so well known, that it would be waste of space to give a long account of them. in primitive culture( ) a cloud of witnesses to the belief in human tigers, hyaenas, leopards and wolves is collected.( ) mr. lane( ) found metamorphosis by wizards as accredited a working belief at cairo as it is among abipones, eskimo, or the people of ashangoland. in various parts of scotland there is a tale of a witch who was shot at when in the guise of a hare. in this shape she was wounded, and the same wound was found on her when she resumed her human appearance. lafitau, early in the last century, found precisely the same tale, except that the wizards took the form of birds, not of hares, among the red indians. the birds were wounded by the magical arrows of an old medicine-man, shonnoh koui eretsi, and these bolts were found in the bodies of the human culprits. in japan, as we learn from several stories in mr. mitford's tales of old japan, people chiefly metamorphose themselves into foxes and badgers. the sorcerers of honduras( ) "possess the power of transforming men into wild beasts, and were much feared accordingly". among the cakchiquels, a cultivated people of guatemala, the very name of the clergy, haleb, was derived from their power of assuming animal shapes, which they took on as easily as the homeric gods.( ) regnard, the french dramatist, who travelled among the lapps at the end of the seventeenth century ( ), says: "they believe witches can turn men into cats;" and again, "under the figures of swans, crows, falcons and geese, they call up tempests and destroy ships".( ) among the bushmen "sorcerers assume the forms of beasts and jackals".( ) dobrizhoffer ( - ), a missionary in paraguay, found that "sorcerers arrogate to themselves the power of transforming themselves into tigers".( ) he was present when the abipones believed that a conversion of this sort was actually taking place: "alas," cried the people, "his whole body is beginning to be covered with tiger-spots; his nails are growing". near loanda, livingstone found that a "chief may metamorphose himself into a lion, kill any one he choses, and then resume his proper form".( ) among the barotse and balonda, "while persons are still alive they may enter into lions and alligators".( ) among the mayas of central america "sorcerers could transform themselves into dogs, pigs and other animals; their glance was death to a victim".( ) the thlinkeets think that their shamans can metamorphose themselves into animals at pleasure; and a very old raven was pointed out to mr. c. e. s. wood as an incarnation of the soul of a shaman.( ) sir a. c. lyall finds a similar belief in flourishing existence in india. the european superstition of the were-wolf is too well known to need description. perhaps the most curious legend is that told by giraldus cambrensis about a man and his wife metamorphosed into wolves by an abbot. they retained human speech, made exemplary professions of christian faith, and sent for priests when they found their last hours approaching. in an old norman ballad a girl is transformed into a white doe, and hunted and slain by her brother's hounds. the "aboriginal" peoples of india retain similar convictions. among the hos,( ) an old sorcerer called pusa was known to turn himself habitually into a tiger, and to eat his neighbour's goats, and even their wives. examples of the power of sorcerers to turn, as with the gorgon's head, their enemies into stone, are peculiarly common in america.( ) hearne found that the indians believed they descended from a dog, who could turn himself into a handsome young man.( ) ( ) vol. i. pp. - . ( ) see also m'lennan on lykanthropy in encyclopedia britannica. ( ) arabian nights, i. . ( ) bancroft, races of pacific coast, i. . ( ) brinton, annals of the cakchiquels, p. . ( ) pinkerton, i. . ( ) bleek, brief account of bushman folk-lore, pp. , . ( ) english translation of dobrizhoffer's abipones, i. . ( ) missionary travels, p. . ( ) livingstone, p. . ( ) bancroft, ii. ( ) century magazine, july, . ( ) dalton's ethnology of bengal, p. . ( ) dorman, pp. , ; report of ethnological bureau, washington, - . ( ) a journey, etc., p. . let us recapitulate the powers attributed all over the world, by the lower people, to medicine-men. the medicine-man has all miracles at his command. he rules the sky, he flies into the air, he becomes visible or invisible at will, he can take or confer any form at pleasure, and resume his human shape. he can control spirits, can converse with the dead, and can descend to their abodes. when we begin to examine the gods of mythology, savage or civilised, as distinct from deities contemplated, in devotion, as moral and creative guardians of ethics, we shall find that, with the general, though not invariable addition of immortality, they possess the very same accomplishments as the medicine-man, peay, tohunga, jossakeed, birraark, or whatever name for sorcerer we may choose. among the greeks, zeus, mythically envisaged, enjoys in heaven all the attributes of the medicine-man; among the iroquois, as pere le jeune, the old jesuit missionary, observed,( ) the medicine-man enjoys on earth all the attributes of zeus. briefly, the miraculous and supernatural endowments of the gods of myth, whether these gods be zoomorphic or anthropomorphic, are exactly the magical properties with which the medicine-man is credited by his tribe. it does not at all follow, as euemerus and mr. herbert spencer might argue, that the god was once a real living medicine-man. but myth-making man confers on the deities of myth the magical powers which he claims for himself. ( ) relations ( ), p. . chapter v. nature myths. savage fancy, curiosity and credulity illustrated in nature myths--in these all phenomena are explained by belief in the general animation of everything, combined with belief in metamorphosis--sun myths, asian, australian, african, melanesian, indian, californian, brazilian, maori, samoan--moon myths, australian, muysca, mexican, zulu, macassar, greenland, piute, malay--thunder myths--greek and aryan sun and moon myths--star myths--myths, savage and civilised, of animals, accounting for their marks and habits--examples of custom of claiming blood kinship with lower animals--myths of various plants and trees--myths of stones, and of metamorphosis into stones, greek, australian and american--the whole natural philosophy of savages expressed in myths, and survives in folk-lore and classical poetry; and legends of metamorphosis. the intellectual condition of savages which has been presented and established by the evidence both of observers and of institutions, may now be studied in savage myths. these myths, indeed, would of themselves demonstrate that the ideas which the lower races entertain about the world correspond with our statement. if any one were to ask himself, from what mental conditions do the following savage stories arise? he would naturally answer that the minds which conceived the tales were curious, indolent, credulous of magic and witchcraft, capable of drawing no line between things and persons, capable of crediting all things with human passions and resolutions. but, as myths analogous to those of savages, when found among civilised peoples, have been ascribed to a psychological condition produced by a disease of language acting after civilisation had made considerable advances, we cannot take the savage myths as proof of what savages think, believe and practice in the course of daily life. to do so would be, perhaps, to argue in a circle. we must therefore study the myths of the undeveloped races in themselves. these myths form a composite whole, so complex and so nebulous that it is hard indeed to array them in classes and categories. for example, if we look at myths concerning the origin of various phenomena, we find that some introduce the action of gods or extra-natural beings, while others rest on a rude theory of capricious evolution; others, again, invoke the aid of the magic of mortals, and most regard the great natural forces, the heavenly bodies, and the animals, as so many personal characters capable of voluntarily modifying themselves or of being modified by the most trivial accidents. some sort of arrangement, however, must be attempted, only the student is to understand that the lines are never drawn with definite fixity, that any category may glide into any other category of myth. we shall begin by considering some nature myths--myths, that is to say, which explain the facts of the visible universe. these range from tales about heaven, day, night, the sun and the stars, to tales accounting for the red breast of the ousel, the habits of the quail, the spots and stripes of wild beasts, the formation of rocks and stones, the foliage of trees, the shapes of plants. in a sense these myths are the science of savages; in a sense they are their sacred history; in a sense they are their fiction and romance. beginning with the sun, we find, as mr. tylor says, that "in early philosophy throughout the world the sun and moon are alive, and, as it were, human in their nature".( ) the mass of these solar myths is so enormous that only a few examples can be given, chosen almost at random out of the heap. the sun is regarded as a personal being, capable not only of being affected by charms and incantations, but of being trapped and beaten, of appearing on earth, of taking a wife of the daughters of men. garcilasso de la vega has a story of an inca prince, a speculative thinker, who was puzzled by the sun-worship of his ancestors. if the sun be thus all-powerful, the inca inquired, why is he plainly subject to laws? why does he go his daily round, instead of wandering at large up and down the fields of heaven? the prince concluded that there was a will superior to the sun's will, and he raised a temple to the unknown power. now the phenomena which put the inca on the path of monotheistic religion, a path already traditional, according to garcilasso, have also struck the fancy of savages. why, they ask, does the sun run his course like a tamed beast? a reply suited to a mind which holds that all things are personal is given in myths. some one caught and tamed the sun by physical force or by art magic. ( ) primitive culture, i. . in australia the myth says that there was a time when the sun did not set. "it was at all times day, and the blacks grew weary." norralie considered and decided that the sun should disappear at intervals. he addressed the sun in an incantation (couched like the finnish kalewala in the metre of longfellow's hiawatha); and the incantation is thus interpreted: "sun, sun, burn your wood, burn your internal substance, and go down". the sun therefore now burns out his fuel in a day, and goes below for fresh firewood.( ) ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . in new zealand the taming of the sun is attributed to the great hero maui, the prometheus of the maoris. he set snares to catch the sun, but in vain, for the sun's rays bit them through. according to another account, while norralie wished to hasten the sun's setting, maui wanted to delay it, for the sun used to speed through the heavens at a racing pace. maui therefore snared the sun, and beat him so unmercifully that he has been lame ever since, and travels slowly, giving longer days. "the sun, when beaten, cried out and revealed his second great name, taura-mis-te-ra."( ) it will be remembered that indra, in his abject terror when he fled after the slaying of vrittra, also revealed his mystic name. in north america the same story of the trapping and laming of the sun is told, and attributed to a hero named tcha-ka-betch. in samoa the sun had a child by a samoan woman. he trapped the sun with a rope made of a vine and extorted presents. another samoan lassoed the sun and made him promise to move more slowly.( ) these samoan and australian fancies are nearly as dignified as the tale in the aitareya brahmana. the gods, afraid "that the sun would fall out of heaven, pulled him up and tied him with five ropes". these ropes are recognised as verses in the ritual, but probably the ritual is later than the ropes. in mexico we find that the sun himself (like the stars in most myths) was once a human or pre-human devotee, nanahuatzin, who leapt into a fire to propitiate the gods.( ) translated to heaven as the sun, nanahuatzin burned so very fiercely that he threatened to reduce the world to a cinder. arrows were therefore shot at him, and this punishment had as happy an effect as the beatings administered by maui and tcha-ka-betch. among the bushmen of south africa the sun was once a man, from whose armpit a limited amount of light was radiated round his hut. some children threw him up into the sky, and there he stuck, and there he shines.( ) in the homeric hymn to helios, as mr. max muller observes, "the poet looks on helios as a half god, almost a hero, who had once lived on earth," which is precisely the view of the bushmen.( ) among the aztecs the sun is said to have been attacked by a hunter and grievously wounded by his arrows.( ) the gallinomeros, in central california, seem at least to know that the sun is material and impersonal. they say that when all was dark in the beginning, the animals were constantly jostling each other. after a painful encounter, the hawk and the coyote collected two balls of inflammable substance; the hawk (indra was occasionally a hawk) flew up with them into heaven, and lighted them with sparks from a flint. there they gave light as sun and moon. this is an exception to the general rule that the heavenly bodies are regarded as persons. the melanesian tale of the bringing of night is a curious contrast to the mexican, maori, australian and american indian stories which we have quoted. in melanesia, as in australia, the days were long, indeed endless, and people grew tired; but instead of sending the sun down below by an incantation when night would follow in course of nature, the melanesian hero went to night (conceived of as a person) and begged his assistance. night (qong) received qat (the hero) kindly, darkened his eyes, gave him sleep, and, in twelve hours or so, crept up from the horizon and sent the sun crawling to the west.( ) in the same spirit paracelsus is said to have attributed night, not to the absence of the sun, but to the apparition of certain stars which radiate darkness. it is extraordinary that a myth like the melanesian should occur in brazil. there was endless day till some one married a girl whose father "the great serpent," was the owner of night. the father sent night bottled up in a gourd. the gourd was not to be uncorked till the messengers reached the bride, but they, in their curiosity, opened the gourd, and let night out prematurely.( ) ( ) taylor, new zealand, p. . ( ) turner, samoa, p. . ( ) sahagun, french trans., vii. ii. ( ) bleck, hottentot fables, p. ; bushman folk-lore, pp. , . ( ) compare a californian solar myth: bancroft, iii. pp. , . ( ) bancroft, iii. , quoting burgoa, i. , . ( ) codrington, journ. anthrop. inst., february, . ( ) contes indiens du bresil, pp. - , by couto de magalhaes. rio de janeiro, . m. henri gaidoz kindly presented the author with this work. the myths which have been reported deal mainly with the sun as a person who shines, and at fixed intervals disappears. his relations with the moon are much more complicated, and are the subject of endless stories, all explaining in a romantic fashion why the moon waxes and wanes, whence come her spots, why she is eclipsed, all starting from the premise that sun and moon are persons with human parts and passions. sometimes the moon is a man, sometimes a woman and the sex of the sun varies according to the fancy of the narrators. different tribes of the same race, as among the australians, have different views of the sex of moon and sun. among the aborigines of victoria, the moon, like the sun among the bushmen, was a black fellow before he went up into the sky. after an unusually savage career, he was killed with a stone hatchet by the wives of the eagle, and now he shines in the heavens.( ) another myth explanatory of the moon's phases was found by mr. meyer in among the natives of encounter bay. according to them the moon is a woman, and a bad woman to boot. she lives a life of dissipation among men, which makes her consumptive, and she wastes away till they drive her from their company. while she is in retreat, she lives on nourishing roots, becomes quite plump, resumes her gay career, and again wastes away. the same tribe, strangely enough, think that the sun also is a woman. every night she descends among the dead, who stand in double lines to greet her and let her pass. she has a lover among the dead, who has presented her with a red kangaroo skin, and in this she appears at her rising. such is the view of rosy-fingered dawn entertained by the blacks of encounter bay. in south america, among the muyscas of bogota, the moon, huythaca, is the malevolent wife of the child of the sun; she was a woman before her husband banished her to the fields of space.( ) the moon is a man among the khasias of the himalaya, and he was guilty of the unpardonable offence of admiring his mother-in-law. as a general rule, the mother-in-law is not even to be spoken to by the savage son-in-law. the lady threw ashes in his face to discourage his passion, hence the moon's spots. the waning of the moon suggested the most beautiful and best known of savage myths, that in which the moon sends a beast to tell mortals that, though they die like her, like her they shall be born again.( ) because the spots in the moon were thought to resemble a hare they were accounted for in mexico by the hypothesis that a god smote the moon in the face with a rabbit;( ) in zululand and thibet by a fancied translation of a good or bad hare to the moon. ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . ( ) tylor, primitive culture, i. . ( ) bleek, reynard in south africa, pp. - . ( ) sahagun, viii. . the eskimos have a peculiar myth to account for the moon's spots. sun and moon were human brother and sister. in the darkness the moon once attempted the virtue of the sun. she smeared his face over with ashes, that she might detect him when a light was brought. she did discover who her assailant had been, fled to the sky, and became the sun. the moon still pursues her, and his face is still blackened with the marks of ashes.( ) gervaise( ) says that in macassar the moon was held to be with child by the sun, and that when he pursued her and wished to beat her, she was delivered of the earth. they are now reconciled. about the alternate appearance of sun and moon a beautifully complete and adequate tale is told by the piute indians of california. no more adequate and scientific explanation could possibly be offered, granting the hypothesis that sun and moon are human persons and savage persons. the myth is printed as it was taken down by mr. de quille from the lips of tooroop eenah (desert father), a chief of the piutes, and published in a san francisco newspaper. ( ) crantz's history of greenland, i. . ( ) royaume de macacar, . "the sun is the father and ruler of the heavens. he is the big chief. the moon is his wife and the stars are their children. the sun eats his children whenever he can catch them. they flee before him, and are all the time afraid when he is passing through the heavens. when he (their father) appears in the morning, you see all the stars, his children, fly out of sight--go away back into the blue of the above--and they do not wake to be seen again until he, their father, is about going to his bed. "down deep under the ground--deep, deep, under all the ground--is a great hole. at night, when he has passed over the world, looked down on everything and finished his work, he, the sun, goes into his hole, and he crawls and creeps along it till he comes to his bed in the middle part of the earth. so then he, the sun, sleeps there in his bed all night. "this hole is so little, and he, the sun, is so big, that he cannot turn round in it; and so he must, when he has had all his sleep, pass on through, and in the morning we see him come out in the east. when he, the sun, has so come out, he begins to hunt up through the sky to catch and eat any that he can of the stars, his children, for if he does not so catch and eat he cannot live. he, the sun, is not all seen. the shape of him is like a snake or a lizard. it is not his head that we can see, but his belly, filled up with the stars that times and times he has swallowed. "the moon is the mother of the heavens and is the wife of the sun. she, the moon, goes into the same hole as her husband to sleep her naps. but always she has great fear of the sun, her husband, and when he comes through the hole to the nobee (tent) deep in the ground to sleep, she gets out and comes away if he be cross. "she, the moon, has great love for her children, the stars, and is happy to travel among them in the above; and they, her children, feel safe, and sing and dance as she passes along. but the mother, she cannot help that some of her children must be swallowed by the father every month. it is ordered that way by the pah-ah (great spirit), who lives above the place of all. "every month that father, the sun, does swallow some of the stars, his children, and then that mother, the moon, feels sorrow. she must mourn; so she must put the black on her face for to mourn the dead. you see the piute women put black on their faces when a child is gone. but the dark will wear away from the face of that mother, the moon, a little and a little every day, and after a time again we see all bright the face of her. but soon more of her children are gone, and again she must put on her face the pitch and the black." here all the phenomena are accounted for, and the explanation is as advanced as the egyptian doctrine of the hole under the earth where the sun goes when he passes from our view. and still the great spirit is over all: religion comes athwart myth. mr. tylor quotes( ) a nature myth about sun, moon and stars which remarkably corresponds to the speculation of the piutes. the mintira of the malayan peninsula say that both sun and moon are women. the stars are the moon's children; once the sun had as many. they each agreed (like the women of jerusalem in the famine), to eat their own children; but the sun swallowed her whole family, while the moon concealed hers. when the sun saw this she was exceedingly angry, and pursued the moon to kill her. occasionally she gets a bite out of the moon, and that is an eclipse. the hos of north-east india tell the same tale, but say that the sun cleft the moon in twain for her treachery, and that she continues to be cut in two and grow again every month. with these sun and moon legends sometimes coexists the religious belief in a creator of these and of all things. ( ) primitive culture, i. . in harmony with the general hypothesis that all objects in nature are personal, and human or bestial, in real shape, and in passion and habits, are the myths which account for eclipses. these have so frequently been published and commented on( ) that a long statement would be tedious and superfluous. to the savage mind, and even to the chinese and the peasants of some european countries, the need of an explanation is satisfied by the myth that an evil beast is devouring the sun or the moon. the people even try by firing off guns, shrieking, and clashing cymbals, to frighten the beast (wolf, pig, dragon, or what not) from his prey. what the hungry monster in the sky is doing when he is not biting the sun or moon we are not informed. probably he herds with the big bird whose wings, among the dacotahs of america and the zulus of africa, make thunder; or he may associate with the dragons, serpents, cows and other aerial cattle which supply the rain, and show themselves in the waterspout. chinese, greenland, hindoo, finnish, lithunian and moorish examples of the myth about the moon-devouring beasts are vouched for by grimm.( ) a mongolian legend has it that the gods wished to punish the maleficent arakho for his misdeeds, but arakho hid so cleverly that their limited omnipotence could not find him. the sun, when asked to turn spy, gave an evasive answer. the moon told the truth. arakho was punished, and ever since he chases sun and moon. when he nearly catches either of them, there is an eclipse, and the people try to drive him off by making a hideous uproar with musical and other instruments.( ) captain beeckman in was in borneo, when the natives declared that the devil "was eating the moon". ( ) tylor, primitive culture, vol. i.; lefebure, les yeux d'horus. ( ) teutonic mythology, english trans., ii. . ( ) moon-lore by rev. t. harley, p. . dr. brinton in his myths and myth-makers gives examples from peruvians, tupis, creeks, iroquois and algonkins. it would be easy, and is perhaps superfluous, to go on multiplying proofs of the belief that sun and moon are, or have been, persons. in the hervey isles these two luminaries are thought to have been made out of the body of a child cut in twain by his parents. the blood escaped from the half which is the moon, hence her pallor.( ) this tale is an exception to the general rule, but reminds us of the many myths which represent the things in the world as having been made out of a mutilated man, like the vedic purusha. it is hardly necessary, except by way of record, to point out that the greek myths of sun and moon, like the myths of savages, start from the conception of the solar and lunar bodies as persons with parts and passions, human loves and human sorrows. as in the mongolian myth of arakho, the sun "sees all and hears all," and, less honourable than the mongolian sun, he plays the spy for hephaestus on the loves of ares and aphrodite. he has mistresses and human children, such as circe and aeetes.( ) ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) see chapter on greek divine myths. the sun is all-seeing and all-penetrating. in a greek song of to-day a mother sends a message to an absent daughter by the sun; it is but an unconscious repetition of the request of the dying ajax that the heavenly body will tell his fate to his old father and his sorrowing spouse.( ) ( ) sophocles, ajax, . selene, the moon, like helios, the sun, was a person, and amorous. beloved by zeus, she gave birth to pandia, and pan gained her affection by the simple rustic gift of a fleece.( ) the australian dawn, with her present of a red kangaroo skin, was not more lightly won than the chaste selene. her affection for endymion is well known, and her cold white glance shines through the crevices of his mountain grave, hewn in a rocky wall, like the tombs of phrygia.( ) she is the sister of the sun in hesiod, the daughter (by his sister) of hyperion in the homeric hymns to helios. ( ) virgil, georgics, iii. . ( ) preller, griech. myth., i. . in greece the aspects of sun and moon take the most ideal human forms, and show themselves in the most gracious myths. but, after all, these retain in their anthropomorphism the marks of the earliest fancy, the fancy of eskimos and australians. it seems to be commonly thought that the existence of solar myths is denied by anthropologists. this is a vulgar error. there is an enormous mass of solar myths, but they are not caused by "a disease of language," and--all myths are not solar! there is no occasion to dwell long on myths of the same character in which the stars are accounted for as transformed human adventurers. it has often been shown that this opinion is practically of world-wide distribution.( ) we find it in australia, persia, greece, among the bushmen, in north and south america, among the eskimos, in ancient egypt, in new zealand, in ancient india--briefly, wherever we look. the sanskrit forms of these myths have been said to arise from confusion as to the meaning of words. but is it credible that, in all languages, however different, the same kind of unconscious puns should have led to the same mistaken beliefs? as the savage, barbarous and greek star-myths (such as that of callisto, first changed into a bear and then into a constellation) are familiar to most readers, a few examples of sanskrit star-stories are offered here from the satapatha brahmana.( ) fires are not, according to the brahmana ritual, to be lighted under the stars called krittikas, the pleiades. the reason is that the stars were the wives of the bears (riksha), for the group known in brahmanic times as the rishis (sages) were originally called the rikshas (bears). but the wives of the bears were excluded from the society of their husbands, for the bears rise in the north and their wives in the east. therefore the worshipper should not set up his fires under the pleiades, lest he should thereby be separated from the company of his wife. the brahmanas( ) also tell us that prajapati had an unholy passion for his daughter, who was in the form of a doe. the gods made rudra fire an arrow at prajapati to punish him; he was wounded, and leaped into the sky, where he became one constellation and his daughter another, and the arrow a third group of stars. in general, according to the brahmanas, "the stars are the lights of virtuous men who go to the heavenly world".( ) ( ) custom and myth, "star-myths"; primitive culture, i. , ; j. g. muller, amerikanischen urreligionen, pp. , . ( ) sacred books of the east, i. - . ( ) aitareya bramana, iii. . ( ) satapatha brahmana, vi. , , . for greek examples, hesiod, ovid, and the catasterismoi, attributed to eratosthenes, are useful authorities. probably many of the tales in eratosthenes are late fictions consciously moulded on traditional data. passing from savage myths explanatory of the nature of celestial bodies to myths accounting for the formation and colour and habits of beasts, birds and fishes, we find ourselves, as an old jesuit missionary says, in the midst of a barbarous version of ovid's metamorphoses. it has been shown that the possibility of interchange of form between man and beast is part of the working belief of everyday existence among the lower peoples. they regard all things as on one level, or, to use an old political phrase, they "level up" everything to equality with the human status. thus mr. im thurn, a very good observer, found that to the indians of guiana "all objects, animate or inaminate, seem exactly of the same nature, except that they differ by the accident of bodily form". clearly to grasp this entirely natural conception of primitive man, the civilised student must make a great effort to forget for a time all that science has taught him of the differences between the objects which fill the world.( ) "to the ear of the savage, animals certainly seem to talk." "as far as the indians of guiana are concerned, i do not believe that they distinguish such beings as sun and moon, or such other natural phenomena as winds and storms, from men and other animals, from plants and other inanimate objects, or from any other objects whatsoever." bancroft says about north american myths, "beasts and birds and fishes fetch and carry, talk and act, in a way that leaves even aesop's heroes quite in the shade".( ) ( ) journ. anthrop. inst., xi. - . a very large and rich collection of testimonies as to metamorphosis will be found in j. g. muller's amerikanischen urreligionen, p. et seq.; while, for european superstitions, bodin on la demonomanie des sorciers, lyon, , may be consulted. ( ) vol. iii. p. . the savage tendency is to see in inanimate things animals, and in animals disguised men. m. reville quotes in his religions des peuples non-civilise's, i. , the story of some negroes, who, the first time they were shown a cornemuse, took the instrument for a beast, the two holes for its eyes. the highlander who looted a watch at prestonpans, and observing, "she's teed," sold it cheap when it ran down, was in the same psychological condition. a queer bit of savage science is displayed on a black stone tobacco-pipe from the pacific coast.( ) the savage artist has carved the pipe in the likeness of a steamer, as a steamer is conceived by him. "unable to account for the motive power, he imagines the paddle to be linked round the tongue of a coiled serpent, fastened to the tail of the vessel," and so he represents it on the black stone pipe. nay, a savage's belief that beasts are on his own level is so literal, that he actually makes blood-covenants with the lower animals, as he does with men, mingling his gore with theirs, or smearing both together on a stone;( ) while to bury dead animals with sacred rites is as usual among the bedouins and malagasies to-day as in ancient egypt or attica. in the same way the ainos of japan, who regard the bear as a kinsman, sacrifice a bear once a year. but, to propitiate the animal and his connections, they appoint him a "mother," an aino girl, who looks after his comforts, and behaves in a way as maternal as possible. the bear is now a kinsman, (greek text omitted), and cannot avenge himself within the kin. this, at least, seems to be the humour of it. in lagarde's reliquiae juris ecclesiastici antiquissimae a similar syrian covenant of kinship with insects is described. about a. d., when a syrian garden was infested by caterpillars, the maidens were assembled, and one caterpillar was caught. then one of the virgins was "made its mother," and the creature was buried with due lamentations. the "mother" was then brought to the spot where the pests were, her companions bewailed her, and the caterpillars perished like their chosen kinsman, but without extorting revenge.( ) revenge was out of their reach. they had been brought within the kin of their foes, and there were no erinnyes, "avengers of kindred blood," to help them. people in this condition of belief naturally tell hundreds of tales, in which men, stones, trees, beasts, shift shapes, and in which the modifications of animal forms are caused by accident, or by human agency, or by magic, or by metamorphosis. such tales survive in our modern folk-lore. to make our meaning clear, we may give the european nursery-myth of the origin of the donkey's long ears, and, among other illustrations, the australian myth of the origin of the black and white plumage of the pelican. mr. ralston has published the russian version of the myth of the donkey's ears. the spanish form, which is identical with the russian, is given by fernan caballero in la gaviota. ( ) magazine of art, january, . ( ) "malagasy folk-tales," folk-lore journal, october, . ( ) we are indebted to professor robertson smith for this example, and to miss bird's journal, pp. , , for the aino parallel. "listen! do you know why your ears are so big?" (the story is told to a stupid little boy with big ears). "when father adam found himself in paradise with the animals, he gave each its name; those of thy species, my child, he named 'donkeys'. one day, not long after, he called the beasts together, and asked each to tell him its name. they all answered right except the animals of thy sort, and they had forgotten their name! then father adam was very angry, and, taking that forgetful donkey by the ears, he pulled them out, screaming 'you are called donkey!' and the donkey's ears have been long ever since." this, to a child, is a credible explanation. so, perhaps, is another survival of this form of science--the scotch explanation of the black marks on the haddock; they were impressed by st. peter's finger and thumb when he took the piece of money for caesar's tax out of the fish's mouth. turning from folk-lore to savage beliefs, we learn that from one end of africa to another the honey-bird, schneter, is said to be an old woman whose son was lost, and who pursued him till she was turned into a bird, which still shrieks his name, "schneter, schneter".( ) in the same way the manners of most of the birds known to the greeks were accounted for by the myth that they had been men and women. zeus, for example, turned ceyx and halcyon into sea-fowls because they were too proud in their married happiness.( ) to these myths of the origin of various animals we shall return, but we must not forget the black and white australian pelican. why is the pelican parti-coloured?( ) for this reason: after the flood (the origin of which is variously explained by the murri), the pelican (who had been a black fellow) made a canoe, and went about like a kind of noah, trying to save the drowning. in the course of his benevolent mission he fell in love with a woman, but she and her friends played him a trick and escaped from him. the pelican at once prepared to go on the war-path. the first thing to do was to daub himself white, as is the custom of the blacks before a battle. they think the white pipe-clay strikes terror and inspires respect among the enemy. but when the pelican was only half pipe-clayed, another pelican came past, and, "not knowing what such a queer black and white thing was, struck the first pelican with his beak and killed him. before that pelicans were all black; now they are black and white. that is the reason."( ) ( ) barth, iii. . ( ) apollodorus, i. ( , ). ( ) sahagun, viii. , accounts for colours of eagle and tiger. a number of races explain the habits and marks of animals as the result of a curse or blessing of a god or hero. the hottentots, the huarochiri of peru, the new zealanders (shortland, traditions, p. ), are among the peoples which use this myth. ( ) brough symth, aborigines of australia, i. , . "that is the reason." therewith native philosopy is satisfied, and does not examine in mr. darwin's laborious manner the slow evolution of the colour of the pelican's plumage. the mythological stories about animals are rather difficult to treat, because they are so much mixed up with the topic of totemism. here we only examine myths which account by means of a legend for certain peculiarities in the habits, cries, or colours and shapes of animals. the ojibbeways told kohl they had a story for every creature, accounting for its ways and appearance. among the greeks, as among australians and bushmen, we find that nearly every notable bird or beast had its tradition. the nightingale and the swallow have a story of the most savage description, a story reported by apollodorus, though homer( ) refers to another, and, as usual, to a gentler and more refined form of the myth. here is the version of apollodorus. "pandion" (an early king of athens) "married zeuxippe, his mother's sister, by whom he had two daughters, procne and philomela, and two sons, erechtheus and butes. a war broke out with labdas about some debatable land, and erechtheus invited the alliance of tereus of thrace, the son of ares. having brought the war, with the aid of tereus, to a happy end, he gave him his daughter procne to wife. by procne, tereus had a son, itys, and thereafter fell in love with philomela, whom he seduced, pretending that procne was dead, whereas he had really concealed her somewhere in his lands. thereon he married philomela, and cut out her tongue. but she wove into a robe characters that told the whole story, and by means of these acquainted procne with her sufferings. thereon procne found her sister, and slew itys, her own son, whose body she cooked, and served up to tereus in a banquet. thereafter procne and her sister fled together, and tereus seized an axe and followed after them. they were overtaken at daulia in phocis, and prayed to the gods that they might be turned into birds. so procne became the nightingale, and philomela the swallow, while tereus was changed into a hoopoe."( ) pausanias has a different legend; procne and philomela died of excessive grief. ( ) odyssey, xix. . ( ) a red indian nightingale-myth is alluded to by j. g. muller, amerik. urrel., p. . some one was turned into a nightingale by the sun, and still wails for a lost lover. these ancient men and women metamorphosed into birds were honoured as ancestors by the athenians.( ) thus the unceasing musical wail of the nightingale and the shrill cry of the swallow were explained by a greek story. the birds were lamenting their old human sorrow, as the honey-bird in africa still repeats the name of her lost son. ( ) pausanias, i. v. pausanias thinks such things no longer occur. why does the red-robin live near the dwellings of men, a bold and friendly bird? the chippeway indians say he was once a young brave whose father set him a task too cruel for his strength, and made him starve too long when he reached man's estate. he turned into a robin, and said to his father, "i shall always be the friend of man, and keep near their dwellings. i could not gratify your pride as a warrior, but i will cheer you by my songs."( ) the converse of this legend is the greek myth of the hawk. why is the hawk so hated by birds? hierax was a benevolent person who succoured a race hated by poseidon. the god therefore changed him into a hawk, and made him as much detested by birds, and as fatal to them, as he had been beloved by and gentle to men.( ) the hervey islanders explain the peculiarities of several fishes by the share they took in the adventures of ina, who stamped, for example, on the sole, and so flattened him for ever.( ) in greece the dolphins were, according to the homeric hymn to dionysus, metamorphosed pirates who had insulted the god. but because the dolphin found the hidden sea-goddess whom poseidon loved, the dolphin, too, was raised by the grateful sea-god to the stars.( ) the vulture and the heron, according to boeo (said to have been a priestess in delphi and the author of a greek treatise on the traditions about birds), were once a man named aigupios (vulture) and his mother, boulis. they sinned inadvertently, like oedipus and jocasta; wherefore boulis, becoming aware of the guilt, was about to put out the eyes of her son and slay herself. then they were changed, boulis into the heron, "which tears out and feeds on the eyes of snakes, birds and fishes, and aigupios into the vulture which bears his name". this story, of which the more repulsive details are suppressed, is much less pleasing and more savage than the hervey islanders' myth of the origin of pigs. maaru was an old blind man who lived with his son kationgia. there came a year of famine, and kationgia had great difficulty in finding food for himself and his father. he gave the blind old man puddings of banana roots and fishes, while he lived himself on sea-slugs and shellfish, like the people of terra del fuego. but blind old maaru suspected his son of giving him the worst share and keeping what was best for himself. at last he discovered that kationgia was really being starved; he felt his body, and found that he was a mere living skeleton. the two wept together, and the father made a feast of some cocoa-nuts and bread-fruit, which he had reserved against the last extremity. when all was finished, he said he had eaten his last meal and was about to die. he ordered his son to cover him with leaves and grass, and return to the spot in four days. if worms were crawling about, he was to throw leaves and grass over them and come back four days later. kationgia did as he was instructed, and, on his second visit to the grave, found the whole mass of leaves in commotion. a brood of pigs, black, white and speckled, had sprung up from the soil; famine was a thing of the past, and kationgia became a great chief in the island.( ) ( ) schoolcraft, ii. , . ( ) boeo, quoted by antoninus liberalis. ( ) gill, south sea myths, pp. - . ( ) artemidorus in his love elegies, quoted by the pseud-eratosthenes. ( ) gill, myths and songs from south pacific, pp. - . "the owl was a baker's daughter" is the fragment of christian mythology preserved by ophelia. the baker's daughter behaved rudely to our lord, and was changed into the bird that looks not on the sun. the greeks had a similar legend of feminine impiety by which they mythically explained the origin of the owl, the bat and the eagle-owl. minyas of orchomenos had three daughters, leucippe, arsippe and alcathoe, most industrious women, who declined to join the wild mysteries of dionysus. the god took the shape of a maiden, and tried to win them to his worship. they refused, and he assumed the form of a bull, a lion, and a leopard as easily as the chiefs of the abipones become tigers, or as the chiefs among the african barotse and balonda metamorphose themselves into lions and alligators.( ) the daughters of minyas, in alarm, drew lots to determine which of them should sacrifice a victim to the god. leucippe drew the lot and offered up her own son. they then rushed to join the sacred rites of dionysus, when hermes transformed them into the bat, the owl and the eagle-owl, and these three hide from the light of the sun.( ) ( ) livingstone, missionary travels, pp. , . ( ) nicander, quoted by antoninus liberalis. a few examples of bushman and australian myths explanatory of the colours and habits of animals will probably suffice to establish the resemblance between savage and hellenic legends of this character. the bushman myth about the origin of the eland (a large antelope) is not printed in full by dr. bleek, but he observes that it "gives an account of the reasons for the colours of the gemsbok, hartebeest, eland, quagga and springbok".( ) speculative bushmen seem to have been puzzled to account for the wildness of the eland. it would be much more convenient if the eland were tame and could be easily captured. they explain its wildness by saying that the eland was "spoiled" before cagn, the creator, or rather maker of most things, had quite finished it. cagn's relations came and hunted the first eland too soon, after which all other elands grew wild. cagn then said, "go and hunt them and try to kill one; that is now your work, for it was you who spoilt them".( ) the bushmen have another myth explanatory of the white patches on the breasts of crows in their country. some men tarried long at their hunting, and their wives sent out crows in search of their husbands. round each crow's neck was hung a piece of fat to serve as food on the journey. hence the crows have white patches on breast and neck. ( ) brief account of bushmen folk-lore, p. . ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . in australia the origins of nearly all animals appear to be explained in myths, of which a fair collection is printed in mr. brough symth's aborigines of victoria.( ) still better examples occur in mrs. langloh parker's australian legends. why is the crane so thin? once he was a man named kar-ween, the second man fashioned out of clay by pund-jel, a singular creative being, whose chequered career is traced elsewhere in our chapter on "savage myths of the origin of the world and of man". kar-ween and pund-jel had a quarrel about the wives of the former, whom pund-jel was inclined to admire. the crafty kar-ween gave a dance (jugargiull, corobboree), at which the creator pund-jel was disporting himself gaily (like the great panjandrum), when kar-ween pinned him with a spear. pund-jel threw another which took kar-ween in the knee-joint, so that he could not walk, but soon pined away and became a mere skeleton. "thereupon pund-jel made kar-ween a crane," and that is why the crane has such attenuated legs. the kortume, munkari and waingilhe, now birds, were once men. the two latter behaved unkindly to their friend kortume, who shot them out of his hut in a storm of rain, singing at the same time an incantation. the three then turned into birds, and when the kortume sings it is a token that rain may be expected. ( ) vol. i. p. et seq. let us now compare with these australian myths of the origin of certain species of birds the greek story of the origin of frogs, as told by menecrates and nicander.( ) the frogs were herdsmen metamorphosed by leto, the mother of apollo. but, by way of showing how closely akin are the fancies of greeks and australian black fellows, we shall tell the legend without the proper names, which gave it a fictitious dignity. ( ) antoninus liberalis, xxxv. the origin of frogs. "a woman bore two children, and sought for a water-spring wherein to bathe them. she found a well, but herdsmen drove her away from it that their cattle might drink. then some wolves met her and led her to a river, of which she drank, and in its waters she bathed her children. then she went back to the well where the herdsmen were now bathing, and she turned them all into frogs. she struck their backs and shoulders with a rough stone and drove them into the waters, and ever since that day frogs live in marshes and beside rivers." a volume might be filled with such examples of the kindred fancies of greeks and savages. enough has probably been said to illustrate our point, which is that greek myths of this character were inherited from the period of savagery, when ideas of metamorphosis and of the kinship of men and beasts were real practical beliefs. events conceived to be common in real life were introduced into myths, and these myths were savage science, and were intended to account for the origin of species. but when once this train of imagination has been fired, it burns on both in literature and in the legends of the peasantry. every one who writes a christmas tale for children now employs the machinery of metamorphosis, and in european folk-lore, as fontenelle remarked, stories persist which are precisely similar in kind to the minor myths of savages. reasoning in this wise, the mundas of bengal thus account for peculiarities of certain animals. sing bonga, the chief god, cast certain people out of heaven; they fell to earth, found iron ore, and began smelting it. the black smoke displeased sing bonga, who sent two king crows and an owl to bid people cease to pollute the atmosphere. but the iron smelters spoiled these birds' tails, and blackened the previously white crow, scorched its beak red, and flattened its head. sing bonga burned man, and turned woman into hills and waterspouts.( ) ( ) dalton, pp. , . examples of this class of myth in indo-aryan literature are not hard to find. why is dawn red? why are donkeys slow? why have mules no young ones? mules have no foals because they were severely burned when agni (fire) drove them in a chariot race. dawn is red, not because (as in australia) she wears a red kangaroo cloak, but because she competed in this race with red cows for her coursers. donkeys are slow because they never recovered from their exertions in the same race, when the asvins called on their asses and landed themselves the winners.( ) and cows are accommodated with horns for a reason no less probable and satisfactory.( ) ( ) aitareya brahmana, ii. , iv. . ( ) iv. . though in the legends of the less developed peoples men and women are more frequently metamorphosed into birds and beasts than into stones and plants, yet such changes of form are by no means unknown. to the north-east of western point there lies a range of hills, inhabited, according to the natives of victoria, by a creature whose body is made of stone, and weapons make no wound in so sturdy a constitution. the blacks refuse to visit the range haunted by the mythic stone beast. "some black fellows were once camped at the lakes near shaving point. they were cooking their fish when a native dog came up. they did not give him anything to eat. he became cross and said, 'you black fellows have lots of fish, but you give me none'. so he changed them all into a big rock. this is quite true, for the big rock is there to this day, and i have seen it with my own eyes."( ) another native, toolabar, says that the women of the fishing party cried out yacka torn, "very good". a dog replied yacka torn, and they were all changed into rocks. this very man, toolabar, once heard a dog begin to talk, whereupon he and his father fled. had they waited they would have become stones. "we should have been like it, wallung," that is, stones. ( ) native narrator, ap. brough smyth, i. . among the north american indians any stone which has a resemblance to the human or animal figure is explained as an example of metamorphosis. three stones among the aricaras were a girl, her lover and her dog, who fled from home because the course of true love did not run smooth, and who were petrified. certain stones near chinook point were sea-giants who swallowed a man. his brother, by aid of fire, dried up the bay and released the man, still alive, from the body of the giant. then the giants were turned into rocks.( ) the rising sun in popol vuh (if the evidence of popol vuh, the quichua sacred book, is to be accepted) changed into stone the lion, serpent and tiger gods. the standing rock on the upper missouri is adored by the indians, and decorated with coloured ribbons and skins of animals. this stone was a woman, who, like niobe, became literally petrified with grief when her husband took a second wife. another stone-woman in a cave on the banks of the kickapoo was wont to kill people who came near her, and is even now approached with great respect. the oneidas and dacotahs claim descent from stones to which they ascribe animation.( ) montesinos speaks of a sacred stone which was removed from a mountain by one of the incas. a parrot flew out of it and lodged in another stone, which the natives still worship.( ) the breton myth about one of the great stone circles (the stones were peasants who danced on a sunday) is a well-known example of this kind of myth surviving in folk-lore. there is a kind of stone actaeon( ) near little muniton creek, "resembling the bust of a man whose head is decorated with the horns of a stag".( ) a crowd of myths of metamorphosis into stone will be found among the iroquois legends in report of bureau of ethnology, - . if men may become stones, on the other hand, in samoa (as in the greek myth of deucalion), stones may become men.( ) gods, too, especially when these gods happen to be cuttlefish, might be petrified. they were chased in samoa by an upolu hero, who caught them in a great net and killed them. "they were changed into stones, and now stand up in a rocky part of the lagoon on the north side of upolu."( ) mauke, the first man, came out of a stone. in short,( ) men and stones and beasts and gods and thunder have interchangeable forms. in mangaia( ) the god ra was tossed up into the sky by maui and became pumice-stone. many samples of this petrified deity are found in mangaia. in melanesia matters are so mixed that it is not easy to decide whether a worshipful stone is the dwelling of a dead man's soul or is of spiritual merit in itself, or whether "the stone is the spirit's outward part or organ". the vui, or spirit, has much the same relations with snakes, owls and sharks.( ) qasavara, the mythical opponent of qat, the melanesian prometheus, "fell dead from heaven" (like ra in mangia), and was turned into a stone, on which sacrifices are made by those who desire strength in fighting. ( ) see authorities ap. dorman, primitive superstitions, pp. - . ( ) dorman, p. . ( ) many examples are collected by j. g. muller, amerikanischen urreligionen, pp. , , , especially when the stones have a likeness to human form, p. a. "im der that werden auch einige in steine, oder in thiere and pflanzen verwandelt." cf. p. . instances (from balboa) of men turned into stone by wizards, p. . ( ) preller thinks that actaeon, devoured by his hounds after being changed into a stag, is a symbol of the vernal year. palaephatus (de fab. narrat.) holds that the story is a moral fable. ( ) dorman, p. . ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) samoa, p. . ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) codrington, journ. anthrop. inst., february, . without delaying longer among savage myths of metamorphosis into stones, it may be briefly shown that the greeks retained this with all the other vagaries of early fancy. every one remembers the use which perseus made of the gorgon's head, and the stones on the coast of seriphus, which, like the stones near western point in victoria, had once been men, the enemies of the hero. "also he slew the gorgon," sings pindar, "and bare home her head, with serpent tresses decked, to the island folk a stony death." observe pindar's explanatory remark: "i ween there is no marvel impossible if gods have wrought thereto". in the same pious spirit a turk in an isle of the levant once told mr. newton a story of how a man hunted a stag, and the stag spoke to him. "the stag spoke?" said mr. newton. "yes, by allah's will," replied the turk. like pindar, he was repeating an incident quite natural to the minds of australians, or bushmen, or samoans, or red men, but, like the religious pindar, he felt that the affair was rather marvellous, and accounted for it by the exercise of omnipotent power.( ) the greek example of niobe and her children may best be quoted in mr. bridges' translation from the iliad:-- and somewhere now, among lone mountain rocks on sipylus, where couch the nymphs at night who dance all day by achelous' stream, the once proud mother lies, herself a rook, and in cold breast broods o'er the goddess' wrong. --prometheus the fire-bringer.( ) in the iliad it is added that cronion made the people into stones. the attitude of the later greek mind towards these myths may be observed in a fragment of philemon, the comic poet. "never, by the gods, have i believed, nor will believe, that niobe the stone was once a woman. nay, by reason of her calamities she became speechless, and so, from her silence, was called a stone."( ) ( ) pindar, pyth. x., myers's translation. ( ) xxiv. . ( ) the scholiast on iliad, xxiv. , . there is another famous petrification in the iliad. when the prodigy of the snake and the sparrows had appeared to the assembled achaeans at aulis, zeus displayed a great marvel, and changed into a stone the serpent which swallowed the young of the sparrow. changes into stone, though less common than changes into fishes, birds and beasts, were thus obviously not too strange for the credulity of greek mythology, which could also believe that a stone became the mother of agdestis by zeus. as to interchange of shape between men and women and plants, our information, so far as the lower races are concerned, is less copious. it has already been shown that the totems of many stocks in all parts of the world are plants, and this belief in connection with a plant by itself demonstrates that the confused belief in all things being on one level has thus introduced vegetables into the dominion of myth. as far as possessing souls is concerned, mr. tylor has proved that plants are as well equipped as men or beasts or minerals.( ) in india the doctrine of transmigration widely and clearly recognises the idea of trees or smaller plants being animated by human souls. in the well-known ancient egyptian story of "the two brothers,"( ) the life of the younger is practically merged in that of the acacia tree where he has hidden his heart; and when he becomes a bull and is sacrificed, his spiritual part passes into a pair of persea trees. the yarucaris of bolivia say that a girl once bewailed in the forest her loverless estate. she happened to notice a beautiful tree, which she adorned with ornaments as well as she might. the tree assumed the shape of a handsome young man-- she did not find him so remiss, but, lightly issuing through, he did repay her kiss for kiss, with usury thereto.( ) j. g. muller, who quotes this tale from andree, says it has "many analogies with the tales of metamorphosis of human beings into trees among the ancients, as reported by ovid". the worship of plants and trees is a well-known feature in religion, and probably implies (at least in many cases) a recognition of personality. in samoa, metamorphosis into vegetables is not uncommon. for example, the king of fiji was a cannibal, and (very naturally) "the people were melting away under him". the brothers toa and pale, wishing to escape the royal oven, adopted various changes of shape. they knew that straight timber was being sought for to make a canoe for the king, so pale, when he assumed a vegetable form, became a crooked stick overgrown with creepers, but toa "preferred standing erect as a handsome straight tree". poor toa was therefore cut down by the king's shipwrights, though, thanks to his brother's magic wiles, they did not make a canoe out of him after all.( ) in samoa the trees are so far human that they not only go to war with each other, but actually embark in canoes to seek out distant enemies.( ) the ottawa indians account for the origin of maize by a myth in which a wizard fought with and conquered a little man who had a little crown of feathers. from his ashes arose the maize with its crown of leaves and heavy ears of corn.( ) ( ) primitive culture, i. ; examples of society islanders, dyaks, karens, buddhists. ( ) maspero, contes egyptiens, p. . ( ) j. g. muller, amerik. urrel., p. . ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) ibid.. p. . ( ) amerik. urrel., p. . in mangaia the myth of the origin of the cocoa-nut tree is a series of transformation scenes, in which the persons shift shapes with the alacrity of medicine-men. ina used to bathe in a pool where an eel became quite familiar with her. at last the fish took courage and made his declaration. he was tuna, the chief of all eels. "be mine," he cried, and ina was his. for some mystical reason he was obliged to leave her, but (like the white cat in the fairy tale) he requested her to cut off his eel's head and bury it. regretfully but firmly did ina comply with his request, and from the buried eel's head sprang two cocoa trees, one from each half of the brain of tuna. as a proof of this be it remarked, that when the nut is husked we always find on it "the two eyes and mouth of the lover of ina".( ) all over the world, from ancient egypt to the wigwams of the algonkins, plants and other matters are said to have sprung from a dismembered god or hero, while men are said to have sprung from plants.( ) we may therefore perhaps look on it as a proved point that the general savage habit of "levelling up" prevails even in their view of the vegetable world, and has left traces (as we have seen) in their myths. ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) myths of the beginning of things. turning now to the mythology of greece, we see that the same rule holds good. metamorphosis into plants and flowers is extremely common; the instances of daphne, myrrha, hyacinth, narcissus and the sisters of phaethon at once occur to the memory. most of those myths in which everything in nature becomes personal and human, while all persons may become anything in nature, we explain, then, as survivals or imitations of tales conceived when men were in the savage intellectual condition. in that stage, as we demonstrated, no line is drawn between things animate and inanimate, dumb or "articulate speaking," organic or inorganic, personal or impersonal. such a mental stage, again, is reflected in the nature-myths, many of which are merely "aetiological,"--assign a cause, that is, for phenomena, and satisfy an indolent and credulous curiosity. we may be asked again, "but how did this intellectual condition come to exist?" to answer that is no part of our business; for us it is enough to trace myth, or a certain element in myth, to a demonstrable and actual stage of thought. but this stage, which is constantly found to survive in the minds of children, is thus explained or described by hume in his essay on natural religion: "there is an universal tendency in mankind to conceive all beings like themselves, and to transfer to every object those qualities... of which they are intimately conscious".( ) now they believe themselves to be conscious of magical and supernatural powers, which they do not, of course, possess. these powers of effecting metamorphosis, of "shape-shifting," of flying, of becoming invisible at will, of conversing with the dead, of miraculously healing the sick, savages pass on to their gods (as will be shown in a later chapter), and the gods of myth survive and retain the miraculous gifts after their worshippers (become more reasonable) have quite forgotten that they themselves once claimed similar endowments. so far, then, it has been shown that savage fancy, wherever studied, is wild; that savage curiosity is keen; that savage credulity is practically boundless. these considerations explain the existence of savage myths of sun, stars, beasts, plants and stones; similar myths fill greek legend and the sanskrit brahmanes. we conclude that, in greek and sanskrit, the myths are relics (whether borrowed or inherited) of the savage mental status. ( ) see appendix b. chapter vi. non-aryan myths of the origin of the world and of man. confusions of myth--various origins of man and of things--myths of australia, andaman islands, bushmen, ovaherero, namaquas, zulus, hurons, iroquois, diggers, navajoes, winnebagoes, chaldaeans, thlinkeets, pacific islanders, maoris, aztecs, peruvians--similarity of ideas pervading all those peoples in various conditions of society and culture. the difficulties of classification which beset the study of mythology have already been described. nowhere are they more perplexing than when we try to classify what may be styled cosmogonic myths. the very word cosmogonic implies the pre-existence of the idea of a cosmos, an orderly universe, and this was exactly the last idea that could enter the mind of the myth-makers. there is no such thing as orderliness in their mythical conceptions, and no such thing as an universe. the natural question, "who made the world, or how did the things in the world come to be?" is the question which is answered by cosmogonic myths. but it is answered piecemeal. to a christian child the reply is given, "god made all things". we have known this reply discussed by some little girls of six (a scotch minister's daughters, and naturally metaphysical), one of whom solved all difficulties by the impromptu myth, "god first made a little place to stand on, and then he made the rest". but savages and the myth-makers, whose stories survive into the civilised religions, could adhere firmly to no such account as this. here occurs in the first edition of this book the following passage: "they (savages) have not, and had not, the conception of god as we understand what we mean by the word. they have, and had at most, only the small-change of the idea god,"--here the belief in a moral being who watches conduct; here again the hypothesis of a pre-human race of magnified, non-natural medicine-men, or of extra-natural beings with human and magical attributes, but often wearing the fur, and fins, and feathers of the lower animals. mingled with these faiths (whether earlier, later, or coeval in origin with these) are the dread and love of ancestral ghosts, often transmuting themselves into worship of an imaginary and ideal first parent of the tribe, who once more is often a beast or a bird. here is nothing like the notion of an omnipotent, invisible, spiritual being, the creator of our religion; here is only la monnaie of the conception." it ought to have occurred to the author that he was here traversing the main theory of his own book, which is that religion is one thing, myth quite another thing. that many low races of savages entertain, in hours of religious thought, an elevated conception of a moral and undying maker of things, and master of life, a father in heaven, has already been stated, and knowledge of the facts has been considerably increased since this work first appeared ( ). but the mythical conceptions described in the last paragraph coexist with the religious conception in the faiths of very low savages, such as the australians and andamanese, just as the same contradictory coexistence is notorious in ancient greece, india, egypt and anahuac. in a sense, certain low savages have the "conception of god, as we understand what we mean by the word". but that sense, when savages come to spinning fables about origins, is apt to be overlaid and perplexed by the frivolity of their mythical fancy. with such shifting, grotesque and inadequate fables, the cosmogonic myths of the world are necessarily bewildered and perplexed. we have already seen in the chapter on "nature myths" that many things, sun, moon, the stars, "that have another birth," and various animals and plants, are accounted for on the hypothesis that they are later than the appearance of man--that they originally were men. to the european mind it seems natural to rank myths of the gods before myths of the making or the evolution of the world, because our religion, like that of the more philosophic greeks, makes the deity the fount of all existences, causa causans, "what unmoved moves," the beginning and the end. but the myth-makers, deserting any such ideas they may possess, find it necessary, like the child of whom we spoke, to postulate a place for the divine energy to work from, and that place is the earth or the heavens. then, again, heaven and earth are themselves often regarded in the usual mythical way, as animated, as persons with parts and passions, and finally, among advancing races, as gods. into this medley of incongruous and inconsistent conceptions we must introduce what order we may, always remembering that the order is not native to the subject, but is brought in for the purpose of study. the origin of the world and of man is naturally a problem which has excited the curiosity of the least developed minds. every savage race has its own myths on this subject, most of them bearing the marks of the childish and crude imagination, whose character we have investigated, and all varying in amount of what may be called philosophical thought. all the cosmogonic myths, as distinct from religious belief in a creator, waver between the theory of construction, or rather of reconstruction, and the theory of evolution, very rudely conceived. the earth, as a rule, is mythically averred to have grown out of some original matter, perhaps an animal, perhaps an egg which floated on the waters, perhaps a handful of mud from below the waters. but this conception does not exclude the idea that many of the things in the world, minerals, plants and what not, are fragments of the frame of a semi-supernatural and gigantic being, human or bestial, belonging to a race which preceded the advent of man.( ) such were the titans, demi-gods, nurrumbunguttias in australia. various members of this race are found active in myths of the creation, or rather the construction, of man and of the world. among the lowest races it is to be noted that mythical animals of supernatural power often take the place of beings like the finnish wainamoinen, the greek prometheus, the zulu unkulunkulu, the red indian manabozho, himself usually a great hare. ( ) macrobius, saturnal., i. xx. the ages before the development or creation of man are filled up, in the myths, with the loves and wars of supernatural people. the appearance of man is explained in three or four contradictory ways, each of which is represented in the various myths of most mythologies. often man is fashioned out of clay, or stone, or other materials, by a maker of all things, sometimes half-human or bestial, but also half-divine. sometimes the first man rises out of the earth, and is himself confused with the creator, a theory perhaps illustrated by the zulu myth of unkulunkulu, "the old, old one". sometimes man arrives ready made, with most of the animals, from his former home in a hole in the ground, and he furnishes the world for himself with stars, sun, moon and everything else he needs. again, there are many myths which declare that man was evolved out of one or other of the lower animals. this myth is usually employed by tribesmen to explain the origin of their own peculiar stock of kindred. once more, man is taken to be the fruit of some tree or plant, or not to have emerged ready-made, but to have grown out of the ground like a plant or a tree. in some countries, as among the bechuanas, the boeotians, and the peruvians, the spot where men first came out on earth is known to be some neighbouring marsh or cave. lastly, man is occasionally represented as having been framed out of a piece of the body of the creator, or made by some demiurgic potter out of clay. all these legends are told by savages, with no sense of their inconsistency. there is no single orthodoxy on the matter, and we shall see that all these theories coexist pell-mell among the mythological traditions of civilised races. in almost every mythology, too, the whole theory of the origin of man is crossed by the tradition of a deluge, or some other great destruction, followed by revival or reconstruction of the species, a tale by no means necessarily of biblical origin. in examining savage myths of the origin of man and of the world, we shall begin by considering those current among the most backward peoples, where no hereditary or endowed priesthood has elaborated and improved the popular beliefs. the natives of australia furnish us with myths of a purely popular type, the property, not of professional priests and poets, but of all the old men and full-grown warriors of the country. here, as everywhere else, the student must be on his guard against accepting myths which are disguised forms of missionary teaching.( ) ( ) taplin, the narrinyeri. "he must also beware of supposing that the australians believe in a creator in our sense, because the narrinyeri, for example, say that nurundere 'made everything'. nurundere is but an idealised wizard and hunter, with a rival of his species." this occurs in the first edition, but "making all things" is one idea, wizardry is another. in southern australia we learn that the boonoorong, an australian coast tribe, ascribe the creation of things to a being named bun-jel or pund-jel. he figures as the chief of an earlier supernatural class of existence, with human relationships; thus he "has a wife, whose face he has never seen," brothers, a son, and so on. now this name bun-jel means "eagle-hawk," and the eagle-hawk is a totem among certain stocks. thus, when we hear that eagle-hawk is the maker of men and things we are reminded of the bushman creator, cagn, who now receives prayers of considerable beauty and pathos, but who is (in some theories) identified with kaggen, the mantis insect, a creative grasshopper, and the chief figure in bushman mythology.( ) bun-jel or pund-jel also figures in australian belief, neither as the creator nor as the eagle-hawk, but "as an old man who lives at the sources of the yarra river, where he possesses great multitudes of cattle".( ) the term bun-jel is also used, much like our "mr.," to denote the older men of the kurnai and briakolung, some of whom have magical powers. one of them, krawra, or "west wind," can cause the wind to blow so violently as to prevent the natives from climbing trees; this man has semi-divine attributes. from these facts it appears that this australian creator, in myth, partakes of the character of the totem or worshipful beast, and of that of the wizard or medicine-man. he carried a large knife, and, when he made the earth, he went up and down slicing it into creeks and valleys. the aborigines of the northern parts of victoria seem to believe in pund-jel in what may perhaps be his most primitive mythical shape, that of an eagle.( ) this eagle and a crow created everything, and separated the murray blacks into their two main divisions, which derive their names from the crow and the eagle. the melbourne blacks seem to make pund-jel more anthropomorphic. men are his (greek text omitted) figures kneaded of clay, as aristophanes says in the birds. pund-jel made two clay images of men, and danced round them. "he made their hair--one had straight, one curly hair--of bark. he danced round them. he lay on them, and breathed his breath into their mouths, noses and navels, and danced round them. then they arose full-grown young men." some blacks seeing a brickmaker at work on a bridge over the yarra exclaimed, "like 'em that pund-jel make 'em koolin". but other blacks prefer to believe that, as pindar puts the phrygian legend, the sun saw men growing like trees. ( ) bleek, brief account of bushman mythology, p. ; cape monthly magazine, july, , pp. - ; kamilaroi and kurnai, pp. , . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) brough smyth, natives of victoria, vol. i. p. . the first man was formed out of the gum of a wattle-tree, and came out of the knot of a wattle-tree. he then entered into a young woman (though he was the first man) and was born.( ) the encounter bay people have another myth, which might have been attributed by dean swift to the yahoos, so foul an origin does it allot to mankind. ( ) meyer, aborigines of encounter bay. see, later, "gods of the lowest races". australian myths of creation are by no means exclusive of a hypothesis of evolution. thus the dieyrie, whose notions mr. gason has recorded, hold a very mixed view. they aver that "the good spirit" moora-moora made a number of small black lizards, liked them, and promised them dominion. he divided their feet into toes and fingers, gave them noses and lips, and set them upright. down they fell, and moora-moora cut off their tails. then they walked erect and were men.( ) the conclusion of the adventures of one australian creator is melancholy. he has ceased to dwell among mortals whom he watches and inspires. the jay possessed many bags full of wind; he opened them, and pund-jel was carried up by the blast into the heavens. but this event did not occur before pund-jel had taught men and women the essential arts of life. he had shown the former how to spear kangaroos, he still exists and inspires poets. from the cosmogonic myths of australia (the character of some of which is in contradiction with the higher religious belief of the people to be later described) we may turn, without reaching a race of much higher civilisation, to the dwellers in the andaman islands and their opinions about the origin of things. ( ) gason's dieyries, ap. native tribes of south australia, p. . the andaman islands, in the bay of bengal, are remote from any shores, and are protected from foreign influences by dangerous coral reefs, and by the reputed ferocity and cannibalism of the natives. these are negritos, and are commonly spoken of as most abject savages. they are not, however, without distinctions of rank; they are clean, modest, moral after marriage, and most strict in the observance of prohibited degrees. unlike the australians, they use bows and arrows, but are said to be incapable of striking a light, and, at all events, find the process so difficult that, like the australians and the farmer in the odyssey,( ) they are compelled "to hoard the seeds of fire". their mythology contains explanations of the origin of men and animals, and of their own customs and language. ( ) odyssey, v. . the andamanese, long spoken of as "godless," owe much to mr. man, an english official, who has made a most careful study of their beliefs.( ) so extraordinary is the contradiction between the relative purity and morality of the religion and the savagery of the myths of the andamanese, that, in the first edition of this work, i insisted that the "spiritual god" of the faith must have been "borrowed from the same quarter as the stone house" in which he is mythically said to live. but later and wider study, and fresh information from various quarters, have convinced me that the relative purity of andamanese religion, with its ethical sanction of conduct, may well be, and probably is, a natural unborrowed development. it is easy for myth to borrow the notion of a stone house from our recent settlement at port blair. but it would not be easy for religion to borrow many new ideas from an alien creed, in a very few years, while the noted ferocity of the islanders towards strangers, and the inaccessibility of their abode, makes earlier borrowing, on a large scale at least, highly improbable. the andamanese god, puluga, is "like fire" but invisible, unborn and immortal, knowing and punishing or rewarding, men's deeds, even "the thoughts of their hearts". but when once mythical fancy plays round him, and stories are told about him, he is credited with a wife who is an eel or a shrimp, just as zeus made love as an ant or a cuckoo. puluga was the maker of men; no particular myth as to how he made them is given. they tried to kill him, after the deluge (of which a grotesque myth is told), but he replied that he was "as hard as wood". his legend is in the usual mythical contradiction with the higher elements in his religion. ( ) journ. anthrop. soc., vol. xii. p. et seq. leaving the andaman islanders, but still studying races in the lowest degree of civilisation, we come to the bushmen of south africa. this very curious and interesting people, far inferior in material equipment to the hottentots, is sometimes regarded as a branch of that race.( ) the hottentots call themselves "khoi-khoi," the bushmen they style "sa". the poor sa lead the life of pariahs, and are hated and chased by all other natives of south africa. they are hunters and diggers for roots, while the hottentots, perhaps their kinsmen, are cattle-breeders.( ) being so ill-nourished, the bushmen are very small, but sturdy. they dwell in, or rather wander through, countries which have been touched by some ancient civilisation, as is proved by the mysterious mines and roads of mashonaland. it is singular that the bushmen possess a tradition according to which they could once "make stone things that flew over rivers". they have remarkable artistic powers, and their drawings of men and animals on the walls of caves are often not inferior to the designs on early greek vases.( ) ( ) see "divine myths of the lower races". ( ) hahu, tsuni goam, p. . see other accounts in waitz, anthropologie, ii. . ( ) custom and myth, where illustrations of bushman art are given, pp. - . thus we must regard the bushmen as possibly degenerated from a higher status, though there is nothing (except perhaps the tradition about bridge-making) to show that it was more exalted than that of their more prosperous neighbours, the hottentots. the myths of the bushmen, however, are almost on the lowest known level. a very good and authentic example of bushman cosmogonic myth was given to mr. orpen, chief magistrate of st. john's territory, by qing, king nqusha's huntsman. qing "had never seen a white man, but in fighting," till he became acquainted with mr. orpen.( ) the chief force in bushmen myth is by dr. bleek identified with the mantis, a sort of large grasshopper. though he seems at least as "chimerical a beast" as the aryan creative boar, the "mighty big hare" of the algonkins, the large spider who made the world in the opinion of the gold coast people, or the eagle of the australians, yet the insect (if insect he be), like the others, has achieved moral qualities and is addressed in prayer. in his religious aspect he is nothing less than a grasshopper. he is called cagn. "cagn made all things and we pray to him," said qing. "coti is the wife of cagn." qing did not know where they came from; "perhaps with the men who brought the sun". the fact is, qing "did not dance that dance," that is, was not one of the bushmen initiated into the more esoteric mysteries of cagn. till we, too, are initiated, we can know very little of cagn in his religious aspect. among the bushmen, as among the greeks, there is "no religious mystery without dancing". qing was not very consistent. he said cagn gave orders and caused all things to appear and to be made, sun, moon, stars, wind, mountains, animals, and this, of course, is a lofty theory of creation. elsewhere myth avers that cagn did not so much create as manufacture the objects in nature. in his early day "the snakes were also men". cagn struck snakes with his staff and turned them into men, as zeus, in the aeginetan myth, did with ants. he also turned offending men into baboons. in bushman myth, little as we really know of it, we see the usual opposition of fable and faith, a kind creator in religion is apparently a magician in myth. ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . neighbours of the bushmen, but more fortunate in their wealth of sheep and cattle, are the ovaherero. the myths of the ovaherero, a tribe dwelling in a part of hereraland "which had not yet been under the influence of civilisation and christianity," have been studied by the rev. h. reiderbecke, missionary at otyozondyupa. the ovaherero, he says, have a kind of tree ygdrasil, a tree out of which men are born, and this plays a great part in their myth of creation. the tree, which still exists, though at a great age, is called the omumborombonga tree. out of it came, in the beginning, the first man and woman. oxen stepped forth from it too, but baboons, as caliban says of the stars, "came otherwise," and sheep and goats sprang from a flat rock. black people are so coloured, according to the ovaherero, because when the first parents emerged from the tree and slew an ox, the ancestress of the blacks appropriated the black liver of the victim. the ovakuru meyuru or "old ones in heaven," once let the skies down with a run, but drew them up again (as the gods of the satapatha brahmana drew the sun) when most of mankind had been drowned.( ) the remnant pacified the old ones (as odysseus did the spirits of the dead) by the sacrifice of a black ewe, a practice still used to appease ghosts by the ovaherero. the neighbouring omnambo ascribe the creation of man to kalunga, who came out of the earth, and made the first three sheep.( ) ( ) an example of a deluge myth in africa, where m. lenormant found none. ( ) south african folk-lore journal, ii. pt. v. p. . among the namaquas, an african people on the same level of nomadic culture as the ovaherero, a divine or heroic early being called heitsi eibib had a good deal to do with the origin of things. if he did not exactly make the animals, he impressed on them their characters, and their habits (like those of the serpent in genesis) are said to have been conferred by a curse, the curse of heitsi eibib. a precisely similar notion was found by avila among the indians of huarochiri, whose divine culture-hero imposed, by a curse or a blessing, their character and habits on the beasts.( ) the lion used to live in a nest up a tree till heitsi eibib cursed him and bade him walk on the ground. he also cursed the hare, "and the hare ran away, and is still running".( ) the name of the first man is given as eichaknanabiseb (with a multitude of "clicks"), and he is said to have met all the animals on a flat rock, and played a game with them for copper beads. the rainbow was made by gaunab, who is generally a malevolent being, of whom more hereafter. ( ) fables of yncas (hakluyt society), p. . ( ) tsuni goam, pp. , . leaving these african races, which, whatever their relative degrees of culture, are physically somewhat contemptible, we reach their northern neighbours, the zulus. they are among the finest, and certainly among the least religious, of the undeveloped peoples. their faith is mainly in magic and ghosts, but there are traces of a fading and loftier belief. the social and political condition of the zulu is well understood. they are a pastoral, but not a nomadic people, possessing large kraals or towns. they practise agriculture, and they had, till quite recently, a centralised government and a large army, somewhat on the german system. they appear to have no regular class of priests, and supernatural power is owned by the chiefs and the king, and by diviners and sorcerers, who conduct the sacrifices. their myths are the more interesting because, whether from their natural scepticism, which confuted bishop colenso in his orthodox days, or from acquaintance with european ideas, they have begun to doubt the truth of their own traditions.( ) the zulu theory of the origin of man and of the world commences with the feats of unkulunkulu, "the old, old one," who, in some legends, was the first man, "and broke off in the beginning". like manabozho among the indians of north america, and like wainamoinen among the finns, unkulunkulu imparted to men a knowledge of the arts, of marriage, and so forth. his exploits in this direction, however, must be considered in another part of this work. men in general "came out of a bed of reeds".( ) but there is much confusion about this bed of reeds, named "uthlanga". the younger people ask where the bed of reeds was; the old men do not know, and neither did their fathers know. but they stick to it that "that bed of reeds still exists". educated zulus appear somewhat inclined to take the expression in an allegorical sense, and to understand the reeds either as a kind of protoplasm or as a creator who was mortal. "he exists no longer. as my grandfather no longer exists, he too no longer exists; he died." chiefs who wish to claim high descent trace their pedigree to uthlanga, as the homeric kings traced theirs to zeus. the myths given by dr. callaway are very contradictory. ( ) these legends have been carefully collected and published by bishop callaway (trubner & co., ). ( ) callaway, p. . in addition to the legend that men came out of a bed of reeds, other and perhaps even more puerile stories are current. "some men say that they were belched up by a cow;" others "that unkulunkulu split them out of a stone,"( ) which recalls the legend of pyrrha and deucalion. the myth about the cow is still applied to great chiefs. "he was not born; he was belched up by a cow." the myth of the stone origin corresponds to the homeric saying about men "born from the stone or the oak of the old tale".( ) ( ) without anticipating a later chapter, the resemblances of these to greek myths, as arrayed by m. bouche leclercq (de origine generis humani), is very striking. ( ) odyssey, xix. . in addition to the theory of the natal bed of reeds, the zulus, like the navajoes of new mexico, and the bushmen, believe in the subterranean origin of man. there was a succession of emigrations from below of different tribes of men, each having its own unkulunkulu. all accounts agree that unkulunkulu is not worshipped, and he does not seem to be identified with "the lord who plays in heaven"--a kind of fading zeus--when there is thunder. unkulunkulu is not worshipped, though ancestral spirits are worshipped, because he lived so long ago that no one can now trace his pedigree to the being who is at once the first man and the creator. his "honour-giving name is lost in the lapse of years, and the family rites have become obsolete."( ) ( ) see zulu religion in the making of religion, pp. - , where it is argued that ghost worship has superseded a higher faith, of which traces are discernible. the native races of the north american continent (concerning whose civilisation more will be said in the account of their divine myths) occupy every stage of culture, from the truly bestial condition in which some of the digger indians at present exist, living on insects and unacquainted even with the use of the bow, to the civilisation which the spaniards destroyed among the aztecs. the original facts about religion in america are much disputed, and will be more appropriately treated later. it is now very usual for anthropologists to say, like mr. dorman, "no approach to monotheismn had been made before the discovery of america by europeans, and the great spirit mentioned in these (their) books is an introduction by christianity".( ) "this view will not bear examination," says mr. tylor, and we shall later demonstrate the accuracy of his remark.( ) but at present we are concerned, not with what indian religion had to say about her gods, but with what indian myth had to tell about the beginnings of things. ( ) origin of primitive superstitions, p. . ( ) primitive culture, , ii. p. . the hurons, for example (to choose a people in a state of middle barbarism), start in myth from the usual conception of a powerful non-natural race of men dwelling in the heavens, whence they descended, and colonised, not to say constructed, the earth. in the relation de la nouvelle france, written by pere paul le jeune, of the company of jesus, in , there is a very full account of huron opinion, which, with some changes of names, exists among the other branches of the algonkin family of indians. they recognise as the founder of their kindred a woman named ataentsic, who, like hephaestus in the iliad, was banished from the sky. in the upper world there are woods and plains, as on earth. ataentsic fell down a hole when she was hunting a bear, or she cut down a heaven-tree, and fell with the fall of this huron ygdrasil, or she was seduced by an adventurer from the under world, and was tossed out of heaven for her fault. however it chanced, she dropped on the back of the turtle in the midst of the waters. he consulted the other aquatic animals, and one of them, generally said to have been the musk-rat, fished( ) up some soil and fashioned the earth.( ) here ataentsic gave birth to twins, ioskeha and tawiscara. these represent the usual dualism of myth; they answer to osiris and set, to ormuzd and ahriman, and were bitter enemies. according to one form of the myth, the woman of the sky had twins, and what occurred may be quoted from dr. brinton. "even before birth one of them betrayed his restless and evil nature by refusing to be born in the usual manner, but insisting on breaking through his parent's side or arm-pit. he did so, but it cost his mother her life. her body was buried, and from it sprang the various vegetable productions," pumpkins, maize, beans, and so forth.( ) ( ) relations, . in this myth one messon, the great hare, is the beginner of our race. he married a daughter of the musk-rat. ( ) here we first meet in this investigation a very widely distributed myth. the myths already examined have taken the origin of earth for granted. the hurons account for its origin; a speck of earth was fished out of the waters and grew. in m. h. de charencey's tract une legende cosmogonique (havre, ) this legend is traced. m. de charencey distinguishes ( ) a continental version; ( ) an insular version; ( ) a mixed and hindoo version. among continental variants he gives a vogul version (revue de philologie et d'ethnographie, paris, , i. ). numi tarom (a god who cooks fish in heaven) hangs a male and female above the abyss of waters in a silver cradle. he gives them, later, just earth enough to build a house on. their son, in the guise of a squirrel, climbs to numi tarom, and receives from him a duck-skin and a goose-skin. clad in these, like yehl in his raven-skin or odin in his hawk-skin, he enjoys the powers of the animals, dives and brings up three handfuls of mud, which grow into our earth. elempi makes men out of clay and snow. the american version m. de charencey gives from nicholas perrot (mem. sur les moers, etc., paris, , i. ). perrot was a traveller of the seventeenth century. the great hare takes a hand in the making of earth out of fished-up soil. after giving other north american variants, and comparing the animals that, after three attempts, fish up earth to the dove and raven of noah, m. de charencey reaches the bulgarians. god made satan, in the skin of a diver, fish up earth out of lake tiberias. three doves fish up earth, in the beginning, in the galician popular legend (chodzko, contes des paysans slaves, p. ). in the insular version, as in new zealand, the island is usually fished up with a hook by a heroic angler (japan, tonga, tahiti, new zealand). the hindoo version, in which the boar plays the part of musk-rat, or duck, or diver, will be given in "indian cosmogonic myths". ( ) brinton, american hero-myths, p. . nicholas perrot and various jesuit relations are the original authorities. see "divine myths of america". mr. leland, in his algonkin tales, prints the same story, with the names altered to glooskap and malsumis, from oral tradition. compare schoolcraft, v. , and i. , and the versions of pp. charlevoix and lafitau. in charlevoix the good and bad brothers are manabozho and chokanipok or chakekanapok, and out of the bones and entrails of the latter many plants and animals were fashioned, just as, according to a greek myth preserved by clemens alexandrinus, parsley and pomegranates arose from the blood and scattered members of dionysus zagreus. the tale of tawiscara's violent birth is told of set in egypt, and of indra in the veda, as will be shown later. this is a very common fable, and, as mr. whitley stokes tells me, it recurs in old irish legends of the birth of our lord, myth, as usual, invading religion, even christian religion. according to another version of the origin of things, the maker of them was one michabous, or michabo, the great hare. his birthplace was shown at an island called michilimakinak, like the birthplace of apollo at delos. the great hare made the earth, and, as will afterwards appear, was the inventor of the arts of life. on the whole, the iroquois and algonkin myths agree in finding the origin of life in an upper world beyond the sky. the earth was either fished up (as by brahma when he dived in the shape of a boar) by some beast which descended to the bottom of the waters, or grew out of the tortoise on whose back ataentsic fell. the first dwellers in the world were either beasts like manabozho or michabo, the great hare, or the primeval wolves of the uinkarets,( ) or the creative musk-rat, or were more anthropomorphic heroes, such as ioskeha and tawiscara. as for the things in the world, some were made, some evolved, some are transformed parts of an early non-natural man or animal. there is a tendency to identify ataentsic, the sky-woman, with the moon, and in the two great brethren, hostile as they are, to recognise moon and sun.( ) ( ) powell, bureau of ethnology, i. . ( ) dr. brinton has endeavoured to demonstrate by arguments drawn from etymology that michabos, messou, missibizi or manabozho, the great hare, is originally a personification of dawn (myths of the new world, p. ). i have examined his arguments in the nineteenth century, january, , which may be consulted, and in melusine, january, . the hare appears to be one out of the countless primeval beast-culture heroes. a curious piece of magic in a tradition of the dene hareskins may seem to aid dr. brinton's theory: "pendant la nuit il entra, jeta au feu une tete de lievre blanc et aussitot le jour se fit".--petitot, traditions indiennes, p. . but i take it that the sacrifice of a white hare's head makes light magically, as sacrifice of black beasts and columns of black smoke make rainclouds. some of the degraded digger indians of california have the following myth of the origin of species. in this legend, it will be noticed, a species of evolution takes the place of a theory of creation. the story was told to mr. adam johnston, who "drew" the narrator by communicating to a chief the biblical narrative of the creation.( ) the chief said it was a strange story, and one that he had never heard when he lived at the mission of st. john under the care of a padre. according to this chief (he ruled over the po-to-yan-te tribe or coyotes), the first indians were coyotes. when one of their number died, his body became full of little animals or spirits. they took various shapes, as of deer, antelopes, and so forth; but as some exhibited a tendency to fly off to the moon, the po-to-yan-tes now usually bury the bodies of their dead, to prevent the extinction of species. then the indians began to assume the shape of man, but it was a slow transformation. at first they walked on all fours, then they would begin to develop an isolated human feature, one finger, one toe, one eye, like the ascidian, our first parent in the view of modern science. then they doubled their organs, got into the habit of sitting up, and wore away their tails, which they unaffectedly regret, "as they consider the tail quite an ornament". ideas of the immortality of the soul are said to be confined to the old women of the tribe, and, in short, according to this version, the digger indians occupy the modern scientific position. ( ) schoolcraft, vol. v. the winnebagoes, who communicated their myths to mr. fletcher,( ) are suspected of having been influenced by the biblical narrative. they say that the great spirit woke up as from a dream, and found himself sitting in a chair. as he was all alone, he took a piece of his body and a piece of earth, and made a man. he next made a woman, steadied the earth by placing beasts beneath it at the corners, and created plants and animals. other men he made out of bears. "he created the white man to make tools for the poor indians"--a very pleasing example of a teleological hypothesis and of the doctrine of final causes as understood by the winnebagoes. the chaldean myth of the making of man is recalled by the legend that the great spirit cut out a piece of himself for the purpose; the chaldean wisdom coincides, too, with the philosophical acumen of the po-to-yan-te or coyote tribe of digger indians. though the chaldean theory is only connected with that of the red men by its savagery, we may briefly state it in this place. ( ) ibid., iv. . according to berosus, as reported by alexander polyhistor, the universe was originally (as before manabozho's time) water and mud. herein all manner of mixed monsters, with human heads, goat's horns, four legs, and tails, bred confusedly. in place of the iroquois ataentsic, a woman called omoroca presided over the mud and the menagerie. she, too, like ataentsic, is sometimes recognised as the moon. affairs being in this state, bel-maruduk arrived and cut omoroca in two (chokanipok destroyed ataentsic), and out of omoroca bel made the world and the things in it. we have already seen that in savage myth many things are fashioned out of a dead member of the extra-natural race. lastly, bel cut his own head off, and with the blood the gods mixed clay and made men. the chaldeans inherited very savage fancies.( ) ( ) cf. syncellus, p. ; euseb., chronic. armen., ed. mai, p. ; lenormant, origines de l'histoire, i. . one ought, perhaps, to apologise to the chaldeans for inserting their myths among the fables of the least cultivated peoples; but it will scarcely be maintained that the oriental myths differ in character from the digger indian and iroquois explanations of the origin of things. the ahts of vancouver island, whom mr. sproat knew intimately, and of whose ideas he gives a cautious account (for he was well aware of the limits of his knowledge), tell a story of the usual character.( ) they believe in a member of the extra-natural race, named quawteaht, of whom we shall hear more in his heroic character. as a demiurge "he is undoubtedly represented as the general framer, i do not say creator, of all things, though some special things are excepted. he made the earth and water, the trees and rocks, and all the animals. some say that quawteaht made the sun and moon, but the majority of the indians believe that he had nothing to do with their formation, and that they are deities superior to himself, though now distant and less active. he gave names to everything; among the rest, to all the indian houses which then existed, although inhabited only by birds and animals. quawteaht went away before the apparent change of the birds and beasts into indians, which took place in the following manner:-- "the birds and beasts of old had the spirits of the indians dwelling in them, and occupied the various coast villages, as the ahts do at present. one day a canoe manned by two indians from an unknown country approached the shore. as they coasted along, at each house at which they landed, the deer, bear, elk, and other brute inhabitants fled to the mountains, and the geese and other birds flew to the woods and rivers. but in this flight, the indians, who had hitherto been contained in the bodies of the various creatures, were left behind, and from that time they took possession of the deserted dwellings and assumed the condition in which we now see them." ( ) sproat, scenes and studies of savage life, pp. , . crossing the northern continent of america to the west, we are in the domains of various animal culture-heroes, ancestors and teachers of the human race and the makers, to some extent, of the things in the world. as the eastern tribes have their great hare, so the western tribes have their wolf hero and progenitor, or their coyote, or their raven, or their dog. it is possible, and even certain in some cases, that the animal which was the dominant totem of a race became heir to any cosmogonic legends that were floating about. the country of the papagos, on the eastern side of the gulf of california, is the southern boundary of the province of the coyote or prairie wolf. the realm of his influence as a kind of prometheus, or even as a demiurge, extends very far northwards. in the myth related by con quien, the chief of the central papagos,( ) the coyote acts the part of the fish in the sanskrit legend of the flood, while montezuma undertakes the role of manu. this montezuma was formed, like the adams of so many races, out of potter's clay in the hands of the great spirit. in all this legend it seems plain enough that the name of montezuma is imported from mexico, and has been arbitrarily given to the hero of the papagos. according to mr. powers, whose manuscript notes mr. bancroft quotes (iii. ), all the natives of california believe that their first ancestors were created directly from the earth of their present dwelling-places, and in very many cases these ancestors were coyotes. ( ) davidson, indian affairs report, , p. ; bancroft, iii. . the pimas, a race who live near the papagos on the eastern coast of the gulf of california, say that the earth was made by a being named earth-prophet. at first it appeared like a spider's web, reminding one of the west african legend that a great spider created the world. man was made by the earth-prophet out of clay kneaded with sweat. a mysterious eagle and a deluge play a great part in the later mythical adventures of war and the world, as known to the pimas.( ) ( ) communicated to mr. bancroft by mr. stout of the pima agency. in oregon the coyote appears as a somewhat tentative demiurge, and the men of his creation, like the beings first formed by prajapati in the sanskrit myth, needed to be reviewed, corrected and considerably augmented. the chinooks of oregon believe in the usual race of magnified non-natural men, who preceded humanity. these semi-divine people were called ulhaipa by the chinooks, and sehuiab by the lummies. but the coyote was the maker of men. as the first of nature's journeymen, he made men rather badly, with closed eyes and motionless feet. a kind being, named ikanam, touched up the coyote's crude essays with a sharp stone, opening the eyes of men, and giving their hands and feet the powers of movement. he also acted as a "culture-hero," introducing the first arts. ( ) ( ) (frauchere's narrative, ; gibb's chinook vocabulary; parker's exploring tour, i. ;) bancroft, iii. . moving up the west pacific coast we reach british columbia, where the coyote is not supposed to have been so active as our old friend the musk-rat in the great work of the creation. according to the tacullies, nothing existed in the beginning but water and a musk-rat. as the animal sought his food at the bottom of the water, his mouth was frequently filled with mud. this he spat out, and so gradually formed by alluvial deposit an island. this island was small at first, like earth in the sanskrit myth in the satapatha brahmana, but gradually increased in bulk. the tacullies have no new light to throw on the origin of man.( ) ( ) bancroft, iii. ; harmon's journey, pp. , . the thlinkeets, who are neighbours of the tacullies on the north, incline to give crow or raven the chief role in the task of creation, just as some australians allot the same part to the eagle-hawk, and the yakuts to a hawk, a crow and a teal-duck. we shall hear much of yehl later, as one of the mythical heroes of the introduction of civilisation. north of the thlinkeets, a bird and a dog take the creative duties, the aleuts and koniagas being descended from a dog. among the more northern tinnehs, the dog who was the progenitor of the race had the power of assuming the shape of a handsome young man. he supplied the protoplasm of the tinnehs, as purusha did that of the aryan world, out of his own body. a giant tore him to pieces, as the gods tore purusha, and out of the fragments thrown into the rivers came fish, the fragments tossed into the air took life as birds, and so forth.( ) this recalls the australian myth of the origin of fish and the ananzi stories of the origin of whips.( ) ( ) hearne, pp. , ; bancroft, iii. . ( ) see "divine myths of lower races". m. cosquin, in contes de lorraine, vol. i. p. , gives the ananzi story. between the cosmogonic myths of the barbarous or savage american tribes and those of the great cultivated american peoples, aztecs, peruvians and quiches, place should be found for the legends of certain races in the south pacific. of these, the most important are the maoris or natives of new zealand, the mangaians and the samoans. beyond the usual and world-wide correspondences of myth, the divine tales of the various south sea isles display resemblances so many and essential that they must be supposed to spring from a common and probably not very distant centre. as it is practically impossible to separate maori myths of the making of things from maori myths of the gods and their origin, we must pass over here the metaphysical hymns and stories of the original divine beings, rangi and papa, heaven and earth, and of their cruel but necessary divorce by their children, who then became the usual titanic race which constructs and "airs" the world for the reception of man.( ) among these beings, more fully described in our chapter on the gods of the lower races, is tiki, with his wife marikoriko, twilight. tane (male) is another of the primordial race, children of earth and heaven, and between him and tiki lies the credit of having made or begotten humanity. tane adorned the body of his father, heaven (rangi), by sticking stars all over it, as disks of pearl-shells are stuck all over images. he was the parent of trees and birds, but some trees are original and divine beings. the first woman was not born, but formed out of the sun and the echo, a pretty myth. man was made by tiki, who took red clay, and kneaded it with his own blood, or with the red water of swamps. the habits of animals, some of which are gods, while others are descended from gods, follow from their conduct at the moment when heaven and earth were violently divorced. new zealand itself, or at least one of the isles, was a huge fish caught by maui (of whom more hereafter). just as pund-jel, in australia, cut out the gullies and vales with his knife, so the mountains and dells of new zealand were produced by the knives of maui's brothers when they crimped his big fish.( ) quite apart from those childish ideas are the astonishing metaphysical hymns about the first stirrings of light in darkness, of "becoming" and "being," which remind us of hegel and heraclitus, or of the most purely speculative ideas in the rig-veda.( ) scarcely less metaphysical are the myths of mangaia, of which mr. gill( ) gives an elaborate account. ( ) see "divine myths of lower races". ( ) taylor, new zealand, pp. - ; bastian, heilige sage der polynesier, pp. - ; shortland, traditions of new zealanders. ( ) see chapter on "divine myths of the lower races," and on "indian cosmogonic myths" ( ) myths and songs from the south pacific, pp. - . the mangaian ideas of the world are complex, and of an early scientific sort. the universe is like the hollow of a vast cocoa-nut shell, divided into many imaginary circles like those of mediaeval speculation. there is a demon at the stem, as it were, of the cocoa-nut, and, where the edges of the imaginary shell nearly meet, dwells a woman demon, whose name means "the very beginning". in this system we observe efforts at metaphysics and physical speculation. but it is very characteristic of rude thought that such extremely abstract conceptions as "the very beginning" are represented as possessing life and human form. the woman at the bottom of the shell was anxious for progeny, and therefore plucked a bit out of her own right side, as eve was made out of the rib of adam. this piece of flesh became vatea, the father of gods and men. vatea (like oannes in the chaldean legend) was half man, half fish. "the very beginning" begat other children in the same manner, and some of these became departmental gods of ocean, noon-day, and so forth. curiously enough, the mangaians seem to be sticklers for primogeniture. vatea, as the first-born son, originally had his domain next above that of his mother. but she was pained by the thought that his younger brothers each took a higher place than his; so she pushed his land up, and it is now next below the solid crust on which mortals live in mangaia. vatea married a woman from one of the under worlds named papa, and their children had the regular human form. one child was born either from papa's head, like athene from the head of zeus, or from her armpit, like dionysus from the thigh of zeus. another child may be said, in the language of dog-breeders, to have "thrown back," for he wears the form of a white or black lizard. in the mangaian system the sky is a solid vault of blue stone. in the beginning of things the sky (like ouranos in greece and rangi in new zealand) pressed hard on earth, and the god ru was obliged to thrust the two asunder, or rather he was engaged in this task when maui tossed both ru and the sky so high up that they never came down again. ru is now the atlas of mangaia, "the sky-supporting ru".( ) his lower limbs fell to earth, and became pumice-stone. in these mangaian myths we discern resemblances to new zealand fictions, as is natural, and the tearing of the body of "the very beginning" has numerous counterparts in european, american and indian fable. but on the whole, the mangaian myths are more remarkable for their semi-scientific philosophy than for their coincidences with the fancies of other early peoples. ( ) gill, p. . the samoans, like the maoris and greeks, hold that heaven at first fell down and lay upon earth.( ) the arrowroot and another plant pushed up heaven, and "the heaven-pushing place" is still known and pointed out. others say the god ti-iti-i pushed up heaven, and his feet made holes six feet deep in the rocks during this exertion. the other samoan myths chiefly explain the origin of fire, and the causes of the characteristic forms and habits of animals and plants. the samoans, too, possess a semi-mythical, metaphysical cosmogony, starting from nothing, but rapidly becoming the history of rocks, clouds, hills, dew and various animals, who intermarried, and to whom the royal family of samoa trace their origin through twenty-three generations. so personal are samoan abstract conceptions, that "space had a long-legged stool," on to which a head fell, and grew into a companion for space. yet another myth says that the god tangaloa existed in space, and made heaven and earth, and sent down his daughter, a snipe. man he made out of the mussel-fish. so confused are the doctrines of the samoans.( ) ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) turner's samoa, pp. - . perhaps the cosmogonic myths of the less cultivated races have now been stated in sufficient number. as an example of the ideas which prevailed in an american race of higher culture, we may take the quiche legend as given in the popol vuh, a post-christian collection of the sacred myths of the nation, written down after the spanish conquest, and published in french by the abbe brasseur de bourbourg.( ) ( ) see popol vuh in mr. max muller's chips from a german workshop, with a discussion of its authenticity. in his annals of the cakchiquels, a nation bordering on the quiches, dr. brinton expresses his belief in the genuine character of the text. compare bancroft, iii. p. . the ancient and original popol vuh, the native book in native characters, disappeared during the spanish conquest. the quiches, like their neighbours the cakchiquels, were a highly civilised race, possessing well-built towns, roads and the arts of life, and were great agriculturists. maize, the staple of food among these advanced americans, was almost as great a god as soma among the indo-aryans. the quiches were acquainted with a kind of picture-writing, and possessed records in which myth glided into history. the popol vuh, or book of the people, gives itself out as a post-columbian copy of these traditions, and may doubtless contain european ideas. as we see in the commentarias reales of the half-blood inca garcilasso de la vega, the conquered people were anxious to prove that their beliefs were by no means so irrational and so "devilish" as to spanish critics they appeared. according to the popol vuh, there was in the beginning nothing but water and the feathered serpent, one of their chief divine beings; but there also existed somehow, "they that gave life". their names mean "shooter of blow-pipe at coyote," "at opossum," and so forth. they said "earth," and there was earth, and plants growing thereon. animals followed, and the givers of life said "speak our names," but the animals could only cluck and croak. then said the givers, "inasmuch as ye cannot praise us, ye shall be killed and eaten". they then made men out of clay; these men were weak and watery, and by water they were destroyed. next they made men of wood and women of the pith of trees. these puppets married and gave in marriage, and peopled earth with wooden mannikins. this unsatisfactory race was destroyed by a rain of resin and by the wild beasts. the survivors developed into apes. next came a period occupied by the wildest feats of the magnified non-natural race and of animals. the record is like the description of a supernatural pantomime--the nightmare of a god. the titans upset hills, are turned into stone, and behave like heitsi eibib in the namaqua myths. last of all, men were made of yellow and white maize, and these gave more satisfaction, but their sight was contracted. these, however, survived, and became the parents of the present stock of humanity. here we have the conceptions of creation and of evolution combined. men are made, but only the fittest survive; the rest are either destroyed or permitted to develop into lower species. a similar mixture of the same ideas will be found in one of the brahmanas among the aryans of india. it is to be observed that the quiche myths, as recorded in popol vuh, contain not only traces of belief in a creative word and power, but many hymns of a lofty and beautifully devotional character. "hail! o creator, o former! thou that hearest and understandest us, abandon us not, forsake us not! o god, thou that art in heaven and on the earth, o heart of heaven, o heart of earth, give us descendants and posterity as long as the light endures." this is an example of the prayers of the men made out of maize, made especially that they might "call on the name" of the god or gods. whether we are to attribute this and similar passages to christian influence (for popol vuh, as we have it, is but an attempt to collect the fragments of the lost book that remained in men's minds after the conquest), or whether the purer portions of the myth be due to untaught native reflection and piety, it is not possible to determine. it is improbable that the ideas of a hostile race would be introduced into religious hymns by their victims. here, as elsewhere in the sacred legends of civilised peoples, various strata of mythical and religious thought coexist. no american people reached such a pitch of civilisation as the aztecs of anahuac, whose capital was the city of mexico. it is needless here to repeat the story of their grandeur and their fall. obscure as their history, previous to the spanish invasion, may be, it is certain that they possessed a highly organised society, fortified towns, established colleges or priesthoods, magnificent temples, an elaborate calendar, great wealth in the precious metals, the art of picture-writing in considerable perfection, and a despotic central government. the higher classes in a society like this could not but develop speculative systems, and it is alleged that shortly before the reign of montezuma attempts had been made to introduce a pure monotheistic religion. but the ritual of the aztecs remained an example of the utmost barbarity. never was a more cruel faith, not even in carthage. nowhere did temples reek with such pools of human blood; nowhere else, not in dahomey and ashanti, were human sacrifice, cannibalism and torture so essential to the cult that secured the favour of the gods. in these dark fanes--reeking with gore, peopled by monstrous shapes of idols bird-headed or beast-headed, and adorned with the hideous carvings in which we still see the priest, under the mask of some less ravenous forest beast, tormenting the victim--in these abominable temples the castilian conquerors might well believe that they saw the dwellings of devils. yet mexican religion had its moral and beautiful aspect, and the gods, or certain of the gods, required from their worshippers not only bloody hands, but clean hearts. to the gods we return later. the myths of the origin of things may be studied without a knowledge of the whole aztec pantheon. our authorities, though numerous, lack complete originality and are occasionally confused. we have first the aztec monuments and hieroglyphic scrolls, for the most part undeciphered. these merely attest the hideous and cruel character of the deities. next we have the reports of early missionaries, like sahagun and mendieta, of conquerors, like bernal diaz, and of noble half-breeds, such as ixtlilxochitl.( ) ( ) bancroft's native races of pacific coast of north america, vol. iii., contains an account of the sources, and, with sahagun and acosta, is mainly followed here. see also j. g. muller, ur. amerik. rel., p. . see chapter on the "divine myths of mexico". there are two elements in mexican, as in quiche, and indo-aryan, and maori, and even andaman cosmogonic myth. we find the purer religion and the really philosophic speculation concurrent with such crude and childish stories as usually satisfy the intellectual demands of ahts, cahrocs and bushmen; but of the purer and more speculative opinions we know little. many of the noble, learned and priestly classes of aztecs perished at the conquest. the survivors were more or less converted to catholicism, and in their writings probably put the best face possible on the native religion. like the spanish clergy, their instructors, they were inclined to explain away their national gods by a system of euhemerism, by taking it for granted that the gods and culture-heroes had originally been ordinary men, worshipped after their decease. this is almost invariably the view adopted by sahagun. side by side with the confessions, as it were, of the clergy and cultivated classes coexisted the popular beliefs, the myths of the people, partaking of the nature of folk-lore, but not rejected by the priesthood. both strata of belief are represented in the surviving cosmogonic myths of the aztecs. probably we may reckon in the first or learned and speculative class of tales the account of a series of constructions and reconstructions of the world. this idea is not peculiar to the higher mythologies, the notion of a deluge and recreation or renewal of things is almost universal, and even among the untutored australians there are memories of a flood and of an age of ruinous winds. but the theory of definite epochs, calculated in accordance with the mexican calendar, of epochs in which things were made and re-made, answers closely to the indo-aryan conception of successive kalpas, and can only have been developed after the method of reckoning time had been carried to some perfection. "when heaven and earth were fashioned, they had already been four times created and destroyed," say the fragments of what is called the chimalpopoca manuscript. probably this theory of a series of kalpas is only one of the devices by which the human mind has tried to cheat itself into the belief that it can conceive a beginning of things. the earth stands on an elephant, the elephant on a tortoise, and it is going too far to ask what the tortoise stands on. in the same way the world's beginning seems to become more intelligible or less puzzling when it is thrown back into a series of beginnings and endings. this method also was in harmony with those vague ideas of evolution and of the survival of the fittest which we have detected in myth. the various tentative human races of the popol vuh degenerated or were destroyed because they did not fulfil the purposes for which they were made. in brahmanic myth we shall see that type after type was condemned and perished because it was inadequate, or inadequately equipped--because it did not harmonise with its environment.( ) for these series of experimental creations and inefficient evolutions vast spaces of time were required, according to the aztec and indo-aryan philosophies. it is not impossible that actual floods and great convulsions of nature may have been remembered in tradition, and may have lent colour and form to these somewhat philosophic myths of origins. from such sources probably comes the mexican hypothesis of a water-age (ending in a deluge), an earth-age (ending in an earthquake), a wind-age (ending in hurricanes), and the present dispensation, to be destroyed by fire. ( ) as an example of a dim evolutionary idea, note the myths of the various ages as reported by mendieta, according to which there were five earlier ages "or suns" of bad quality, so that the contemporary human beings were unable to live on the fruits of the earth. the less philosophic and more popular aztec legend of the commencement of the world is mainly remarkable for the importance given in it to objects of stone. for some reason, stones play a much greater part in american than in other mythologies. an emerald was worshipped in the temple of pachacamac, who was, according to garcilasso, the supreme and spiritual deity of the incas. the creation legend of the cakchiquels of guatemala( ) makes much of a mysterious, primeval and animated obsidian stone. in the iroquois myths( ) stones are the leading characters. nor did aztec myth escape this influence. ( ) brinton, annals of the cakchiquels. ( ) erminie smith, bureau of ethnol. report, ii. there was a god in heaven named citlalatonac, and a goddess, citlalicue. when we speak of "heaven" we must probably think of some such world of ordinary terrestrial nature above the sky as that from which ataentsic fell in the huron story. the goddess gave birth to a flint-knife, and flung the flint down to earth. this abnormal birth partly answers to that of the youngest of the adityas, the rejected abortion in the veda, and to the similar birth and rejection of maui in new zealand. from the fallen flint-knife sprang our old friends the magnified non-natural beings with human characteristics, "the gods," to the number of . the gods sent up the hawk (who in india and australia generally comes to the front on these occasions), and asked their mother, or rather grandmother, to help them to make men, to be their servants. citlalicue rather jeered at her unconsidered offspring. she advised them to go to the lord of the homes of the departed, mictlanteuctli, and borrow a bone or some ashes of the dead who are with him. we must never ask for consistency from myths. this statement implies that men had already been in existence, though they were not yet created. perhaps they had perished in one of the four great destructions. with difficulty and danger the gods stole a bone from hades, placed it in a bowl, and smeared it with their own blood, as in chaldea and elsewhere. finally, a boy and a girl were born out of the bowl. from this pair sprang men, and certain of the gods, jumping into a furnace, became sun and moon. to the sun they then, in aztec fashion, sacrificed themselves, and there, one might think, was an end of them. but they afterwards appeared in wondrous fashions to their worshippers, and ordained the ritual of religion. according to another legend, man and woman (as in african myths) struggled out of a hole in the ground.( ) ( ) authorities: ixtlil.; kingsborough, ix. pp. , ; sahagun, hist. gen., i. , vii. ; j. g. muller, p. , where muller compares the delphic conception of ages of the world; bancroft, iii. pp. , . the myths of the peoples under the empire of the incas in peru are extremely interesting, because almost all mythical formations are found existing together, while we have historical evidence as to the order and manner of their development. the peru of the incas covered the modern state of the same name, and included ecuador, with parts of chili and bolivia. m. reville calculates that the empire was about miles in length, four times as long as france, and that its breadth was from to miles. the country, contained three different climatic regions, and was peopled by races of many different degrees of culture, all more or less subject to the dominion of the children of the sun. the three regions were the dry strip along the coast, the fertile and cultivated land about the spurs of the cordilleras, and the inland mountain regions, inhabited by the wildest races. near cuzco, the inca capital, was the lake of titicaca, the mediterranean, as it were, of peru, for on the shores of this inland sea was developed the chief civilisation of the new world. as to the institutions, myths and religion of the empire, we have copious if contradictory information. there are the narratives of the spanish conquerors, especially of pizarro's chaplain, valverde, an ignorant bigoted fanatic. then we have somewhat later travellers and missionaries, of whom cieza de leon (his book was published thirty years after the conquest, in ) is one of the most trustworthy. the "royal commentaries" of garcilasso de la vega, son of an inca lady and a spanish conqueror, have often already been quoted. the critical spirit and sound sense of garcilasso are in remarkable contrast to the stupid orthodoxy of the spaniards, but some allowance must be made for his fervent peruvian patriotism. he had heard the inca traditions repeated in boyhood, and very early in life collected all the information which his mother and maternal uncle had to give him, or which could be extracted from the quipus (the records of knotted cord), and from the commemorative pictures of his ancestors. garcilasso had access, moreover, to the "torn papers" of blas valera, an early spanish missionary of unusual sense and acuteness. christoval de moluna is also an excellent authority, and much may be learned from the volume of rites and laws of the yncas.( ) ( ) a more complete list of authorities, including the garrulous acosta, is published by m. reville in his hibbert lectures, pp. , . garcilasso, cieza de leon, christoval de moluna, acosta and the rites and laws have all been translated by mr. clements markham, and are published, with the editor's learned and ingenious notes, in the collection of the hakluyt society. care must be taken to discriminate between what is reported about the indians of the various provinces, who were in very different grades of culture, and what is told about the incas themselves. the political and religious condition of the peruvian empire is very clearly conceived and stated by garcilasso. without making due allowance for that mysterious earlier civilisation, older than the incas, whose cyclopean buildings are the wonder of travellers, garcilasso attributes the introduction of civilisation to his own ancestors. allowing for what is confessedly mythical in his narrative, it must be admitted that he has a firm grasp of what the actual history must have been. he recognises a period of savagery before the incas, a condition of the rudest barbarism, which still existed on the fringes and mountain recesses of the empire. the religion of that period was mere magic and totemism. from all manner of natural objects, but chiefly from beasts and birds, the various savage stocks of peru claimed descent, and they revered and offered sacrifice to their totemic ancestors.( ) garcilasso adds, what is almost incredible, that the indians tamely permitted themselves to be eaten by their totems, when these were carnivorous animals. they did this with the less reluctance as they were cannibals, and accustomed to breed children for the purposes of the cuisine from captive women taken in war.( ) among the huacas or idols, totems, fetishes and other adorable objects of the indians, worshipped before and retained after the introduction of the inca sun-totem and solar cult, garcilasso names trees, hills, rocks, caves, fountains, emeralds, pieces of jasper, tigers, lions, bears, foxes, monkeys, condors, owls, lizards, toads, frogs, sheep, maize, the sea, "for want of larger gods, crabs" and bats. the bat was also the totem of the zotzil, the chief family of the cakchiquels of guatemala, and the most high god of the cakchiquels was worshipped in the shape of a bat. we are reminded of religion as it exists in samoa. the explanation of blas valera was that in each totem (pacarissa) the indians adored the devil. ( ) com. real., vol. i., chap. ix., x. xi. pp. - . ( ) cieza de leon, xii., xv., xix., xxi., xxiii., xxvi., xxviii., xxxii. cieza is speaking of people in the valley of cauca, in new granada. athwart this early religion of totems and fetishes came, in garcilasso's narrative, the purer religion of the incas, with what he regards as a philosophic development of a belief in a supreme being. according to him, the inca sun-worship was really a totemism of a loftier character. the incas "knew how to choose gods better than the indians". garcilasso's theory is that the earlier totems were selected chiefly as distinguishing marks by the various stocks, though, of course, this does not explain why the animals or other objects of each family were worshipped or were regarded as ancestors, and the blood-connections of the men who adored them. the incas, disdaining crabs, lizards, bats and even serpents and lions, "chose" the sun. then, just like the other totemic tribes, they feigned to be of the blood and lineage of the sun. this fable is, in brief, the inca myth of the origin of civilisation and of man, or at least of their breed of men. as m. reville well remarks, it is obvious that the inca claim is an adaptation of the local myth of lake titicaca, the inland sea of peru. according to that myth, the children of the sun, the ancestors of the incas, came out of the earth (as in greek and african legends) at lake titicaca, or reached its shores after wandering from the hole or cave whence they first emerged. the myth, as adapted by the incas, takes for granted the previous existence of mankind, and, in some of its forms, the inca period is preceded by the deluge. of the peruvian myth concerning the origin of things, the following account is given by a spanish priest, christoval de moluna, in a report to the bishop of cuzco in .( ) the story was collected from the lips of ancient peruvians and old native priests, who again drew their information in part from the painted records reserved in the temple of the sun near cuzco. the legend begins with a deluge myth; a cataclysm ended a period of human existence. all mankind perished except a man and woman, who floated in a box to a distance of several hundred miles from cuzco. there the creator commanded them to settle, and there, like pund-jel in australia, he made clay images of men of all races, attired in their national dress, and then animated them. they were all fashioned and painted as correct models, and were provided with their national songs and with seed-corn. they then were put into the earth, and emerged all over the world at the proper places, some (as in africa and greece) coming out of fountains, some out of trees, some out of caves. for this reason they made huacas (worshipful objects or fetishes) of the trees, caves and fountains. some of the earliest men were changed into stones, others into falcons, condors and other creatures which we know were totems in peru. probably this myth of metamorphosis was invented to account for the reverence paid to totems or pacarissas as the peruvians called them. in tiahuanaco, where the creation, or rather manufacture of men took place, the creator turned many sinners into stones. the sun was made in the shape of a man, and, as he soared into heaven, he called out in a friendly fashion to manco ccapac, the ideal first inca, "look upon me as thy father, and worship me as thy father". in these fables the creator is called pachyachachi, "teacher of the world". according to christoval, the creator and his sons were "eternal and unchangeable". among the canaris men descend from the survivor of the deluge, and a beautiful bird with the face of a woman, a siren in fact, but known better to ornithologists as a macaw. "the chief cause," says the good christoval, "of these fables was ignorance of god." ( ) rites and laws of the yncas, p. , hakluyt society, . the story, as told by cieza de leon, runs thus:( ) a white man of great stature (in fact, "a magnified non-natural man") came into the world, and gave life to beasts and human beings. his name was ticiviracocha, and he was called the father of the sun.( ) there are likenesses of him in the temple, and he was regarded as a moral teacher. it was owing apparently to this benevolent being that four mysterious brothers and sisters emerged from a cave--children of the sun, fathers of the incas, teachers of savage men. their own conduct, however, was not exemplary, and they shut up in a hole in the earth the brother of whom they were jealous. this incident is even more common in the marchen or household tales than in the regular tribal or national myths of the world.( ) the buried brother emerged again with wings, and "without doubt he must have been some devil," says honest cieza de leon. this brother was manco ccapac, the heroic ancestor of the incas, and he turned his jealous brethren into stones. the whole tale is in the spirit illustrated by the wilder romances of the popol vuh. ( ) second part of the chronicles of peru, p . ( ) see making of religion, pp. - . name and god are much disputed. ( ) the story of joseph and the marchen of jean de l'ours are well-known examples. garcilasso gives three forms of this myth. according to "the old inca," his maternal uncle, it was the sun which sent down two of his children, giving them a golden staff, which would sink into the ground at the place where they were to rest from wandering. it sank at lake titicaca. about the current myths garcilasso says generally that they were "more like dreams" than straightforward stories; but, as he adds, the greeks and romans also "invented fables worthy to be laughed at, and in greater number than the indians. the stories of one age of heathenism may be compared with those of the other, and in many points they will be found to agree." this critical position of garcilasso's will be proved correct when we reach the myths of greeks and indo-aryans. the myth as narrated north-east of cuzco speaks of the four brothers and four sisters who came out of caves, and the caves in inca times were panelled with gold and silver. athwart all these lower myths, survivals from the savage stage, comes what garcilasso regards as the philosophical inca belief in pachacamac. this deity, to garcilasso's mind, was purely spiritual: he had no image and dwelt in no temple; in fact, he is that very god whom the spanish missionaries proclaimed. this view, though the fact has been doubted, was very probably held by the amautas, or philosophical class in peru.( ) cieza de leon says "the name of this devil, pachacamac, means creator of the world". garcilasso urges that pachacamac was the animus mundi; that he did not "make the world," as pund-jel and other savage demiurges made it, but that he was to the universe what the soul is to the body. ( ) com. real., vol. i. p. . here we find ourselves, if among myths at all, among the myths of metaphysics--rational myths; that is, myths corresponding to our present stage of thought, and therefore intelligible to us. pachacamac "made the sun, and lightning, and thunder, and of these the sun was worshipped by the incas". garcilasso denies that the moon was worshipped. the reflections of the sceptical or monotheistic inca, who declared that the sun, far from being a free agent, "seems like a thing held to its task," are reported by garcilasso, and appear to prove that solar worship was giving way, in the minds of educated peruvians, a hundred years before the arrival of pizarro and valverde with his missal.( ) ( ) garcilasso, viii. , quoting blas valera. from this summary it appears that the higher peruvian religion had wrested to its service, and to the dynastic purposes of the incas, a native myth of the familiar class, in which men come ready made out of holes in the ground. but in peru we do not find nearly such abundance of other savage origin myths as will be proved to exist in the legends of greeks and indo-aryans. the reason probably is that peru left no native literature; the missionaries disdained stories of "devils," and garcilasso's common sense and patriotism were alike revolted by the incidents of stories "more like dreams" than truthful records. he therefore was silent about them. in greece and india, on the other hand, the native religious literature preserved myths of the making of man out of clay, of his birth from trees and stones, of the fashioning of things out of the fragments of mutilated gods and titans, of the cosmic egg, of the rending and wounding of a personal heaven and a personal earth, of the fishing up from the waters of a tiny earth which grew greater, of the development of men out of beasts, with a dozen other such notions as are familiar to contemporary bushmen, australians, digger indians, and cahrocs. but in greece and india these ideas coexist with myths and religious beliefs as purely spiritual and metaphysical as the belief in the pachacamac of garcilasso and the amautas of peru. chapter vii. indo-aryan myths--sources of evidence. authorities--vedas--brahmanas--social condition of vedic india--arts--ranks--war--vedic fetishism--ancestor worship--date of rig-veda hymns doubtful--obscurity of the hymns--difficulty of interpreting the real character of veda--not primitive but sacerdotal--the moral purity not innocence but refinement. before examining the myths of the aryans of india, it is necessary to have a clear notion of the nature of the evidence from which we derive our knowledge of the subject. that evidence is found in a large and incongruous mass of literary documents, the heritage of the indian people. in this mass are extremely ancient texts (the rig-veda, and the atharva-veda), expository comments of a date so much later that the original meaning of the older documents was sometimes lost (the brahmanas), and poems and legendary collections of a period later still, a period when the whole character of religious thought had sensibly altered. in this literature there is indeed a certain continuity; the names of several gods of the earliest time are preserved in the legends of the latest. but the influences of many centuries of change, of contending philosophies, of periods of national growth and advance, and of national decadence and decay, have been at work on the mythology of india. here we have myths that were perhaps originally popular tales, and are probably old; here again, we have later legends that certainly were conceived in the narrow minds of a pedantic and ceremonious priesthood. it is not possible, of course, to analyse in this place all the myths of all the periods; we must be content to point out some which seem to be typical examples of the working of the human intellect in its earlier or its later childhood, in its distant hours of barbaric beginnings, or in the senility of its sacerdotage. the documents which contain indian mythology may be divided, broadly speaking, into four classes. first, and most ancient in date of composition, are the collections of hymns known as the vedas. next, and (as far as date of collection goes) far less ancient, are the expository texts called the brahmanas. later still, come other manuals of devotion and of sacred learning, called sutras and upanishads; and last are the epic poems (itihasas), and the books of legends called puranas. we are chiefly concerned here with the vedas and brahmanas. a gulf of time, a period of social and literary change, separates the brahmanas from the vedas. but the epics and puranas differ perhaps even still more from the brahmanas, on account of vast religious changes which brought new gods into the indian olympus, or elevated to the highest place old gods formerly of low degree. from the composition of the first vedic hymn to the compilation of the latest purana, religious and mythopoeic fancy was never at rest. various motives induced various poets to assign, on various occasions the highest powers to this or the other god. the most antique legends were probably omitted or softened by some early vedic bard (rishi) of noble genius, or again impure myths were brought from the obscurity of oral circulation and foisted into literature by some poet less divinely inspired. old deities were half-forgotten, and forgotten deities were resuscitated. sages shook off superstitious bonds, priests forged new fetters on ancient patterns for themselves and their flocks. philosophy explained away the more degrading myths; myths as degrading were suggested to dark and servile hearts by unscientific etymologies. over the whole mass of ancient mythology the new mythology of a debased brahmanic ritualism grew like some luxurious and baneful parasite. it is enough for our purpose if we can show that even in the purest and most antique mythology of india the element of traditional savagery survived and played its part, and that the irrational legends of the vedas and brahmanas can often be explained as relics of savage philosophy or faith, or as novelties planned on the ancient savage model, whether borrowed or native to the race. the oldest documents of indian mythology are the vedas, usually reckoned as four in number. the oldest, again, of the four, is the sanhita ("collection") of the rig-veda. it is a purely lyrical assortment of the songs "which the hindus brought with them from their ancient homes on the banks of the indus". in the manuscripts, the hymns are classified according to the families of poets to whom they are ascribed. though composed on the banks of the indus by sacred bards, the hymns were compiled and arranged in india proper. at what date the oldest hymns of which this collection is made up were first chanted it is impossible to say with even approximate certainty. opinions differ, or have differed, between b.c. and b.c. as the period when the earliest sacred lyrics of the veda may first have been listened by gods and men. in addition to the rig-veda we have the sanhita of the sama-veda, "an anthology taken from the rik-samhita, comprising those of its verses which were intended to be chanted at the ceremonies of the soma sacrifice".( ) it is conjectured that the hymns of the sama-veda were borrowed from the rig-veda before the latter had been edited and stereotyped into its present form. next comes the yajur-veda, "which contains the formulas for the entire sacrificial ceremonial, and indeed forms its proper foundations," the other vedas being devoted to the soma sacrifice.( ) the yajur-veda has two divisions, known as the black and the white yajur, which have common matter, but differ in arrangement. the black yajur-veda is also called the taittirya, and it is described as "a motley undigested jumble of different pieces".( ) last comes atharva-veda, not always regarded as a veda properly speaking. it derives its name from an old semi-mythical priestly family, the atharvans, and is full of magical formulae, imprecations, folk-lore and spells. there are good reasons for thinking this late as a collection, however early may be the magical ideas expressed in its contents.( ) ( ) weber, history of indian literature, eng. transl., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid, p. . the name taittirya is derived from a partridge, or from a rishi named partridge in sanskrit. there is a story that the pupils of a sage were turned into partridges, to pick up sacred texts. ( ) barth (les religions de l'inde, p. ) thinks that the existence of such a collection as the atharva-veda is implied, perhaps, in a text of the rig-veda, x. , . between the vedas, or, at all events, between the oldest of the vedas, and the compilation of the brahmanas, these "canonised explanations of a canonised text,"( ) it is probable that some centuries and many social changes intervened.( ) ( ) whitney, oriental and linguistic studies, first series, p. . ( ) max muller, biographical essays, p. . "the prose portions presuppose the hymns, and, to judge from the utter inability of the authors of the brahmanas to understand the antiquated language of the hymns, these brahmanas must be ascribed to a much later period than that which gave birth to the hymns." if we would criticise the documents for indian mythology in a scientific manner, it is now necessary that we should try to discover, as far as possible, the social and religious condition of the people among whom the vedas took shape. were they in any sense "primitive," or were they civilised? was their religion in its obscure beginnings or was it already a special and peculiar development, the fruit of many ages of thought? now it is an unfortunate thing that scholars have constantly, and as it were involuntarily, drifted into the error of regarding the vedas as if they were "primitive," as if they exhibited to us the "germs" and "genesis" of religion and mythology, as if they contained the simple though strange utterances of primitive thought.( ) thus mr. whitney declares, in his oriental and linguistic studies, "that the vedas exhibit to us the very earliest germs of the hindu culture". mr. max muller avers that "no country can be compared to india as offering opportunities for a real study of the genesis and growth of religion".( ) yet the same scholar observes that "even the earliest specimens of vedic poetry belong to the modern history of the race, and that the early period of the historical growth of religion had passed away before the rishis (bards) could have worshipped their devas or bright beings with sacred hymns and invocations". though this is manifestly true, the sacred hymns and invocations of the rishis are constantly used as testimony bearing on the beginning of the historical growth of religion. nay, more; these remains of "the modern history of the race" are supposed to exhibit mythology in the process of making, as if the race had possessed no mythology before it reached a comparatively modern period, the vedic age. in the same spirit, dr. muir, the learned editor of sanskrit texts, speaks in one place as if the vedic hymns "illustrated the natural workings of the human mind in the period of its infancy".( ) a brief examination of the social and political and religious condition of man, as described by the poets of the vedas, will prove that his infancy had long been left behind him when the first vedic hymns were chanted. ( ) ibid., rig-veda sanhita, p. vii. ( ) hibbert lectures, p. . ( ) nothing can prove more absolutely and more briefly the late character of vedic faith than the fact that the faith had already to be defended against the attacks of sceptics. the impious denied the existence of indra because he was invisible. rig-veda, ii. , ; viii. , ; v. , - ; vi. , . bergaigne, ii. . "es gibt keinen indra, so hat der eine und der ander gesagt" (ludwig's version). as barth observes, the very ideas which permeate the veda, the idea of the mystic efficacy of sacrifice, of brahma, prove that the poems are profoundly sacerdotal; and this should have given pause to the writers who have persisted in representing the hymns as the work of primitive shepherds praising their gods as they feed their flocks.( ) in the vedic age the ranks of society are already at least as clearly defined as in homeric greece. "we men," says a poet of the rig-veda,( ) "have all our different imaginations and designs. the carpenter seeks something that is broken, the doctor a patient, the priest some one who will offer libations.... the artisan continually seeks after a man with plenty of gold.... i am a poet, my father is a doctor, and my mother is a grinder of corn." chariots and the art of the chariot-builder are as frequently spoken of as in the iliad. spears, swords, axes and coats of mail were in common use. the art of boat-building or of ship-building was well known. kine and horses, sheep and dogs, had long been domesticated. the bow was a favourite weapon, and warriors fought in chariots, like the homeric greeks and the egyptians. weaving was commonly practised. the people probably lived, as a rule, in village settlements, but cities or fortified places were by no means unknown.( ) as for political society, "kings are frequently mentioned in the hymns," and "it was regarded as eminently beneficial for a king to entertain a family priest," on whom he was expected to confer thousands of kine, lovely slaves and lumps of gold. in the family polygamy existed, probably as the exception. there is reason to suppose that the brother-in-law was permitted, if not expected, to "raise up seed" to his dead brother, as among the hebrews.( ) as to literature, the very structure of the hymns proves that it was elaborate and consciously artistic. m. barth writes: "it would be a great mistake to speak of the primitive naivete of the vedic poetry and religion".( ) both the poetry and the religion, on the other hand, display in the highest degree the mark of the sacerdotal spirit. the myths, though originally derived from nature-worship, in an infinite majority of cases only reflect natural phenomena through a veil of ritualistic corruptions.( ) the rigid division of castes is seldom recognised in the rig-veda. we seem to see caste in the making.( ) the rishis and priests of the princely families were on their way to becoming the all-powerful brahmans. the kings and princes were on their way to becoming the caste of kshatriyas or warriors. the mass of the people was soon to sink into the caste of vaisyas and broken men. non-aryan aborigines and others were possibly developing into the caste of sudras. thus the spirit of division and of ceremonialism had still some of its conquests to achieve. but the extraordinary attention given and the immense importance assigned to the details of sacrifice, and the supernatural efficacy constantly attributed to a sort of magical asceticism (tapas, austere fervour), prove that the worst and most foolish elements of later indian society and thought were in the vedic age already in powerful existence. ( ) les religions de l'inde, p. . ( ) ix. . ( ) ludwig, rig-veda, iii. . the burgs were fortified with wooden palisades, capable of being destroyed by fire. "cities" may be too magnificent a word for what perhaps were more like pahs. but compare kaegi, the rig-veda, note , engl. transl. kaegi's book (translated by dr. arrowsmith, boston, u.s., ) is probably the best short manual of the subject. ( ) deut. xxv. ; matt. xxii. . ( ) revue de l'histoire des religions, i. . ( ) ludwig, iii. . ( ) on this subject see muir, i. , with the remarks of haug. "from all we know, the real origin of caste seems to go back to a time anterior to the composition of the vedic hymns, though its development into a regular system with insurmountable barriers can be referred only to the later period of the vedic times." roth approaches the subject from the word brahm, that is, prayer with a mystical efficacy, as his starting-point. from brahm, prayer, came brahma, he who pronounces the prayers and performs the rite. this celebrant developed into a priest, whom to entertain brought blessings on kings. this domestic chaplaincy (conferring peculiar and even supernatural benefits) became hereditary in families, and these, united by common interests, exalted themselves into the brahman caste. but in the vedic age gifts of prayer and poetry alone marked out the purohitas, or men put forward to mediate between gods and mortals. compare ludwig, iii. . thus it is self-evident that the society in which the vedic poets lived was so far from being primitive that it was even superior to the higher barbarisms (such as that of the scythians of herodotus and germans of tacitus), and might be regarded as safely arrived at the threshold of civilisation. society possessed kings, though they may have been kings of small communities, like those who warred with joshua or fought under the walls of thebes or troy. poets were better paid than they seem to have been at the courts of homer or are at the present time. for the tribal festivals special priests were appointed, "who distinguished themselves by their comprehensive knowledge of the requisite rites and by their learning, and amongst whom a sort of rivalry is gradually developed, according as one tribe or another is supposed to have more or less prospered by its sacrifices".( ) in the family marriage is sacred, and traces of polyandry and of the levirate, surviving as late as the epic poems, were regarded as things that need to be explained away. perhaps the most barbaric feature in vedic society, the most singular relic of a distant past, is the survival, even in a modified and symbolic form, of human sacrifice.( ) ( ) weber, p. . ( ) wilson, rig-veda, i. p. - ; muir, i. ii.; wilson, rig-veda i. p. xxiv., ii. (ii. ); aitareya brahmana, haug's version, vol. ii. pp. , . as to the religious condition of the vedic aryans, we must steadily remember that in the vedas we have the views of the rishis only, that is, of sacred poets on their way to becoming a sacred caste. necessarily they no more represent the popular creeds than the psalmists and prophets, with their lofty monotheistic morality, represent the popular creeds of israel. the faith of the rishis, as will be shown later, like that of the psalmists, has a noble moral aspect. yet certain elements of this higher creed are already found in the faiths of the lowest savages. the rishis probably did not actually invent them. consciousness of sin, of imperfection in the sight of divine beings, has been developed (as it has even in australia) and is often confessed. but on the whole the religion of the rishis is practical--it might almost be said, is magical. they desire temporal blessings, rain, sunshine, long life, power, wealth in flocks and herds. the whole purpose of the sacrifices which occupy so much of their time and thought is to obtain these good things. the sacrifice and the sacrificer come between gods and men. on the man's side is faith, munificence, a compelling force of prayer and of intentness of will. the sacrifice invigorates the gods to do the will of the sacrificer; it is supposed to be mystically celebrated in heaven as well as on earth--the gods are always sacrificing. often (as when rain is wanted) the sacrifice imitates the end which it is desirable to gain.( ) in all these matters a minute ritual is already observed. the mystic word brahma, in the sense of hymn or prayer of a compelling and magical efficacy, has already come into use. the brahma answers almost to the maori karakia or incantation and charm. "this brahma of visvamitra protects the tribe of bharata." "atri with the fourth prayer discovered the sun concealed by unholy darkness."( ) the complicated ritual, in which prayer and sacrifice were supposed to exert a constraining influence on the supernatural powers, already existed, haug thinks, in the time of the chief rishis or hymnists of the rig-veda.( ) ( ) compare "the prayers of savages" in j. a. farrer's primitive manners, and ludwig, iii. - , and see bergaigne, la religion vedique, vol. i. p. . ( ) see texts in muir, i. . ( ) preface to translation of aitareya brahmana, p. . in many respects the nature of the idea of the divine, as entertained by the rishis of the rig-veda, is still matter for discussion. in the chapter on vedic gods such particulars as can be ascertained will be given. roughly speaking, the religion is mainly, though not wholly, a cult of departmental gods, originally, in certain cases, forces of nature, but endowed with moral earnestness. as to fetishism in the vedas the opinions of the learned are divided. m. bergaigne( ) looks on the whole ritual as, practically, an organised fetishism, employed to influence gods of a far higher and purer character. mr. max muller remarks, "that stones, bones, shells, herbs and all the other so-called fetishes, are simply absent in the old hymns, though they appear in more modern hymns, particularly those of the atharva-veda. when artificial objects are mentioned and celebrated in the rig-veda, they are only such as might be praised even by wordsworth or tennyson--chariots, bows, quivers, axes, drums, sacrificial vessels and similar objects. they never assume any individual character; they are simply mentioned as useful or precious, it may be as sacred."( ) ( ) la religion vedique, vol. i. p. . "le culte est assimilable dans une certaine mesure aux incantations, aux pratiques magiques." ( ) hibbert lectures, p. . when the existence of fetish "herbs" is denied by mr. max muller, he does not, of course, forget soma, that divine juice. it is also to be noted that in modern india, as mr. max muller himself observes, sir alfred lyall finds that "the husbandman prays to his plough and the fisher to his net," these objects being, at present, fetishes. in opposition to mr. max muller, barth avers that the same kind of fetishism which flourishes to-day flourishes in the rig-veda. "mountains, rivers, springs, trees, herbs are invoked as so many powers. the beasts which live with man--the horse, the cow, the dog, the bird and the animals which imperil his existence--receive a cult of praise and prayer. among the instruments of ritual, some objects are more than things consecrated--they are divinities; and the war-chariot, the weapons of defence and offence, the plough, are the objects not only of benedictions but of prayers."( ) these absolute contradictions on matters of fact add, of course, to the difficulty of understanding the early indo-aryan religion. one authority says that the vedic people were fetish-worshippers; another authority denies it. ( ) barth, les religions de l'inde, p. , with the vedic texts. were the rishis ancestor-worshippers? barth has no doubt whatever that they were. in the pitris or fathers he recognises ancestral spirits, now "companions of the gods, and gods themselves. at their head appear the earliest celebrants of the sacrifice, atharvan, the angiras, the kavis (the pitris, par excellence) equals of the greatest gods, spirits who, by dint of sacrifice, drew forth the world from chaos, gave birth to the sun and lighted the stars,"--cosmical feats which, as we have seen, are sometimes attributed by the lower races to their idealised mythic ancestors, the "old, old ones" of australians and ovahereroes. a few examples of invocations of the ancestral spirits may not be out of place.( ) "may the fathers protect me in my invocation of the gods." here is a curious case, especially when we remember how the wolf, in the north american myth, scattered the stars like spangles over the sky: "the fathers have adorned the sky with stars".( ) ( ) rig-veda, vi. , . ( ) ibid., x. , xi. mr. whitney (oriental and linguistic studies, first series, p. ) gives examples of the ceremony of feeding the aryan ghosts. "the fathers are supposed to assemble, upon due invocation, about the altar of him who would pay them homage, to seat themselves upon the straw or matting spread for each of the guests invited, and to partake of the offerings set before them." the food seems chiefly to consist of rice, sesame and honey. important as is the element of ancestor-worship in the evolution of religion, mr. max muller, in his hibbert lectures, merely remarks that thoughts and feelings about the dead "supplied some of the earliest and most important elements of religion"; but how these earliest elements affect his system does not appear. on a general view, then, the religion of the vedic poets contained a vast number of elements in solution--elements such as meet us in every quarter of the globe. the belief in ancestral ghosts, the adoration of fetishes, the devotion to a moral ideal, contemplated in the persons of various deities, some of whom at least have been, and partly remain, personal natural forces, are all mingled, and all are drifting towards a kind of pantheism, in which, while everything is divine, and gods are reckoned by millions, the worshipper has glimpses of one single divine essence. the ritual, as we have seen, is more or less magical in character. the general elements of the beliefs are found, in various proportions, everywhere; the pantheistic mysticism is almost peculiar to india. it is, perhaps, needless to repeat that a faith so very composite, and already so strongly differentiated, cannot possibly be "primitive," and that the beliefs and practices of a race so highly organised in society and so well equipped in material civilisation as the vedic aryans cannot possibly be "near the beginning". far from expecting to find in the veda the primitive myths of the aryans, we must remember that myth had already, when these hymns were sung, become obnoxious to the religious sentiment. "thus," writes barth, "the authors of the hymns have expurgated, or at least left in the shade, a vast number of legends older than their time; such, for example, as the identity of soma with the moon, as the account of the divine families, of the parricide of indra, and a long list might be made of the reticences of the veda.... it would be difficult to extract from the hymns a chapter on the loves of the gods. the goddesses are veiled, the adventures of the gods are scarcely touched on in passing.... we must allow for the moral delicacy of the singers, and for their dislike of speaking too precisely about the gods. sometimes it seems as if their chief object was to avoid plain speaking.... but often there is nothing save jargon and indolence of mind in this voluntary obscurity, for already in the veda the indian intellect is deeply smitten with its inveterate malady of affecting mystery the more, the more it has nothing to conceal; the mania for scattering symbols which symbolise no reality, and for sporting with riddles which it is not worth while to divine."( ) barth, however, also recognises amidst these confusions, "the inquietude of a heart deeply stirred, which seeks truth and redemption in prayer". such is the natural judgment of the clear french intellect on the wilfully obscure, tormented and evasive intellect of india. ( ) les religions de l'inde, p. . it would be interesting were it possible to illuminate the criticism of vedic religion by ascertaining which hymns in the rig-veda are the most ancient, and which are later. could we do this, we might draw inferences as to the comparative antiquity of the religious ideas in the poems. but no such discrimination of relative antiquity seems to be within the reach of critics. m. bergaigne thinks it impossible at present to determine the relative age of the hymns by any philological test. the ideas expressed are not more easily arrayed in order of date. we might think that the poems which contain most ceremonial allusions were the latest. but mr. max muller says that "even the earliest hymns have sentiments worthy of the most advanced ceremonialists".( ) ( ) history of sanskrit literature, p. . the first and oldest source of our knowledge of indo-aryan myths is the rig-veda, whose nature and character have been described. the second source is the atharva-veda with the brahmanas. the peculiarity of the atharva is its collection of magical incantations spells and fragments of folklore. these are often, doubtless, of the highest antiquity. sorcery and the arts of medicine-men are earlier in the course of evolution than priesthood. we meet them everywhere among races who have not developed the institution of an order of priests serving national gods. as a collection, the atharva-veda is later than the rig-veda, but we need not therefore conclude that the ideas of the atharva are "a later development of the more primitive ideas of the rig-veda". magic is quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus; the ideas of the atharva-veda are everywhere; the peculiar notions of the rig-veda are the special property of an advanced and highly differentiated people. even in the present collected shape, m. barth thinks that many hymns of the atharva are not much later than those of the rig-veda. mr. whitney, admitting the lateness of the atharva as a collection, says, "this would not necessarily imply that the main body of the atharva hymns were not already in existence when the compilation of the rig-veda took place".( ) the atharva refers to some poets of the rig (as certain hymnists in the rig also do) as earlier men. if in the rig (as weber says) "there breathes a lively natural feeling, a warm love of nature, while in the atharva, on the contrary, there predominates an anxious apprehension of evil spirits and their magical powers," it by no means follows that this apprehension is of later origin than the lively feeling for nature. rather the reverse. there appears to be no doubt( ) that the style and language of the atharva are later than those of the rig. roth, who recognises the change, in language and style, yet considers the atharva "part of the old literature".( ) he concludes that the atharva contains many pieces which, "both by their style and ideas, are shown to be contemporary with the older hymns of the rig-veda". in religion, according to muir,( ) the atharva shows progress in the direction of monotheism in its celebration of brahman, but it also introduces serpent-worship. ( ) journal of the american oriental society. iv. . ( ) muir, ii. . ( ) ibid., ii. . ( ) ibid., ii. . as to the atharva, then, we are free to suppose, if we like, that the dark magic, the evil spirits, the incantations, are old parts of indian, as of all other popular beliefs, though they come later into literature than the poetry about ushas and the morality of varuna. the same remarks apply to our third source of information, the brahmanas. these are indubitably comments on the sacred texts very much more modern in form than the texts themselves. but it does not follow, and this is most important for our purpose, that the myths in the brahmanas are all later than the vedic myths or corruptions of the veda. muir remarks,( ) "the rig-veda, though the oldest collection, does not necessarily contain everything that is of the greatest age in indian thought or tradition. we know, for example, that certain legends, bearing the impress of the highest antiquity, such as that of the deluge, appear first in the brahmanas." we are especially interested in this criticism, because most of the myths which we profess to explain as survivals of savagery are narrated in the brahmanas. if these are necessarily late corruptions of vedic ideas, because the collection of the brahmanas is far more modern than that of the veda, our argument is instantly disproved. but if ideas of an earlier stratum of thought than the vedic stratum may appear in a later collection, as ideas of an earlier stratum of thought than the homeric appear in poetry and prose far later than homer, then our contention is legitimate. it will be shown in effect that a number of myths of the brahmanas correspond in character and incident with the myths of savages, such as cahrocs and ahts. our explanation is, that these tales partly survived, in the minds perhaps of conservative local priesthoods, from the savage stage of thought, or were borrowed from aborigines in that stage, or were moulded in more recent times on surviving examples of that wild early fancy. ( ) muir, iv. . in the age of the brahmanas the people have spread southwards from the basin of the indus to that of the ganges. the old sacred texts have begun to be scarcely comprehensible. the priesthood has become much more strictly defined and more rigorously constituted. absurd as it may seem, the vedic metres, like the gayatri, have been personified, and appear as active heroines of stories presumably older than this personification. the asuras have descended from the rank of gods to that of the heavenly opposition to indra's government; they are now a kind of fiends, and the brahmanas are occupied with long stories about the war in heaven, itself a very ancient conception. varuna becomes cruel on occasion, and hostile. prajapati becomes the great mythical hero, and inherits the wildest myths of the savage heroic beasts and birds. the priests are now brahmans, a hereditary divine caste, who possess all the vast and puerile knowledge of ritual and sacrificial minutiae. as life in the opera is a series of songs, so life in the brahmanas is a sequence of sacrifices. sacrifice makes the sun rise and set, and the rivers run this way or that. the study of indian myth is obstructed, as has been shown, by the difficulty of determining the relative dates of the various legends, but there are a myriad of other obstacles to the study of indian mythology. a poet of the vedas says, "the chanters of hymns go about enveloped in mist, and unsatisfied with idle talk".( ) the ancient hymns are still "enveloped in mist," owing to the difficulty of their language and the variety of modern renderings and interpretations. the heretics of vedic religion, the opponents of the orthodox commentators in ages comparatively recent, used to complain that the vedas were simply nonsense, and their authors "knaves and buffoons". there are moments when the modern student of vedic myths is inclined to echo this petulant complaint. for example, it is difficult enough to find in the rig-veda anything like a categoric account of the gods, and a description of their personal appearance. but in rig-veda, viii. , , we read of one god, "a youth, brown, now hostile, now friendly; a golden lustre invests him". who is this youth? "soma as the moon," according to the commentators. m. langlois thinks the sun is meant. dr. aufrecht thinks the troop of maruts (spirits of the storm), to whom, he remarks, the epithet "dark-brown, tawny" is as applicable as it is to their master, rudra. this is rather confusing, and a mythological inquirer would like to know for certain whether he is reading about the sun or soma, the moon, or the winds. ( ) rig-veda, x. , , but compare bergaigne, op. cit., iii. , "enveloppes de nuees et de murmures". to take another example; we open mr. max muller's translation of the rig-veda at random, say at page . in the second verse of the hymn to the maruts, mr. muller translates, "they who were born together, self-luminous, with the spotted deer (the clouds), the spears, the daggers, the glittering ornaments. i hear their whips almost close by, as they crack them in their hands; they gain splendour on their way." now wilson translates this passage, "who, borne by spotted deer, were born self-luminous, with weapons, war-cries and decorations. i hear the cracking of their whips in their hands, wonderfully inspiring courage in the fight." benfey has, "who with stags and spears, and with thunder and lightning, self-luminous, were born. hard by rings the crack of their whip as it sounds in their hands; bright fare they down in storm." langlois translates, "just born are they, self-luminous. mark ye their arms, their decorations, their car drawn by deer? hear ye their clamour? listen! 'tis the noise of the whip they hold in their hands, the sound that stirs up courage in the battle." this is an ordinary example of the diversities of vedic translation. it is sufficiently puzzling, nor is the matter made more transparent by the variety of opinion as to the meaning of the "deer" along with which the maruts are said (by some of the translators) to have been born. this is just the sort of passage on which a controversy affecting the whole nature of vedic mythological ideas might be raised. according to a text in the yajur veda, gods, and men, and beasts, and other matters were created from various portions of the frame of a divine being named prajapati.( ) the god agni, brahmans and the goat were born from the mouth of prajapati. from his breast and arms came the god indra (sometimes spoken of as a ram), the sheep, and of men the rajanya. cows and gods called visvadevas were born together from his middle. are we to understand the words "they who were born together with the spotted deer" to refer to a myth of this kind--a myth representing the maruts and deer as having been born at the same birth, as agni came with the goat, and indra with the sheep? this is just the point on which the indian commentators were divided.( ) sayana, the old commentator, says, "the legendary school takes them for deer with white spots; the etymological school, for the many-coloured lines of clouds". the modern legendary (or anthropological) and etymological (or philological) students of mythology are often as much at variance in their attempts to interpret the traditions of india. ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . ( ) max muller, rig-veda sanhita, trans., vol. i. p. . another famous, and almost comic, example of the difficulty of vedic interpretation is well known. in rig-veda, x. , , there is a funeral hymn. agni, the fire-god, is supplicated either to roast a goat or to warm the soul of the dead and convey it to paradise. whether the soul is to be thus comforted or the goat is to be grilled, is a question that has mightily puzzled vedic doctors.( ) professor muller and m. langlois are all for "the immortal soul", the goat has advocates, or had advocates, in aufrecht, ludwig and roth. more important difficulties of interpretation are illustrated by the attitude of m. bergaigne in la religion vedique, and his controversy with the great german lexicographers. the study of mythology at one time made the vedas its starting-point. but perhaps it would be wise to begin from something more intelligible, something less perplexed by difficulties of language and diversities of interpretation. ( ) muir, v. . in attempting to criticise the various aryan myths, we shall be guided, on the whole, by the character of the myths themselves. pure and elevated conceptions we shall be inclined to assign to a pure and elevated condition of thought (though such conceptions do, recognisably, occur in the lowest known religious strata), and we shall make no difficulty about believing that rishis and singers capable of noble conceptions existed in an age very remote in time, in a society which had many of the features of a lofty and simple civilisation. but we shall not, therefore, assume that the hymns of these rishis are in any sense "primitive," or throw much light on the infancy of the human mind, or on the "origin" of religious and heroic myths. impure, childish and barbaric conceptions, on the other hand, we shall be inclined to attribute to an impure, childish, and barbaric condition of thought; and we shall again make no difficulty about believing that ideas originally conceived when that stage of thought was general have been retained and handed down to a far later period. this view of the possible, or rather probable, antiquity of many of the myths preserved in the brahmanas is strengthened, if it needed strengthening, by the opinion of dr. weber.( ) "we must indeed assume generally with regard to many of those legends (in the brahmanas of the rig-veda) that they had already gained a rounded independent shape in tradition before they were incorporated into the brahmanas; and of this we have frequent evidence in the distinctly archaic character of their language, compared with that of the rest of the text." ( ) history of indian literature, english trans., p. . we have now briefly stated the nature and probable relative antiquity of the evidence which is at the disposal of vedic mythologists. the chief lesson we would enforce is the necessity of suspending the judgment when the vedas are represented as examples of primitive and comparatively pure and simple natural religion. they are not primitive; they are highly differentiated, highly complex, extremely enigmatic expressions of fairly advanced and very peculiar religious thought. they are not morally so very pure as has been maintained, and their purity, such as it is, seems the result of conscious reticence and wary selection rather than of primeval innocence. yet the bards or editors have by no means wholly excluded very ancient myths of a thoroughly savage character. these will be chiefly exposed in the chapter on "indo-aryan myths of the beginnings of things," which follows. chapter viii. indian myths of the origin of the world and of man. comparison of vedic and savage myths--the metaphysical vedic account of the beginning of things--opposite and savage fable of world made out of fragments of a man--discussion of this hymn--absurdities of brahmanas--prajapati, a vedic unkulunkulu or qat--evolutionary myths--marriage of heaven and earth--myths of puranas, their savage parallels--most savage myths are repeated in brahmanas. in discussing the savage myths of the origin of the world and of man, we observed that they were as inconsistent as they were fanciful. among the fancies embodied in the myths was noted the theory that the world, or various parts of it, had been formed out of the body of some huge non-natural being, a god, or giant, or a member of some ancient mysterious race. we also noted the myths of the original union of heaven and earth, and their violent separation as displayed in the tales of greeks and maoris, to which may be added the acagchemem nation in california.( ) another feature of savage cosmogonies, illustrated especially in some early slavonic myths, in australian legends, and in the faith of the american races, was the creation of the world, or the recovery of a drowned world by animals, as the raven, the dove and the coyote. the hatching of all things out of an egg was another rude conception, chiefly noted among the finns. the indian form occurs in the satapatha brahmana.( ) the preservation of the human race in the deluge, or the creation of the race after the deluge, was yet another detail of savage mythology; and for many of these fancies we seemed to find a satisfactory origin in the exceedingly credulous and confused state of savage philosophy and savage imagination. ( ) bancroft, v. . ( ) sacred books of the east, i. . the question now to be asked is, do the traditions of the aryans of india supply us with myths so closely resembling the myths of nootkas, maoris and australians that we may provisionally explain them as stories originally due to the invention of savages? this question may be answered in the affirmative. the vedas, the epics and the puranas contain a large store of various cosmogonic traditions as inconsistent as the parallel myths of savages. we have an aryan ilmarinen, tvashtri, who, like the finnish smith, forged "the iron vault of hollow heaven" and the ball of earth.( ) again, the earth is said to have sprung, as in some mangaian fables, "from a being called uttanapad".( ) again, brahmanaspati, "blew the gods forth like a blacksmith," and the gods had a hand in the making of things. in contrast with these childish pieces of anthropomorphism, we have the famous and sublime speculations of an often-quoted hymn.( ) it is thus that the poet dreams of the days before being and non-being began:-- ( ) muir, v. . ( ) rig-veda, x. , . ( ) ibid., x. . "there was then neither non-entity nor entity; there was no atmosphere nor sky above. what enveloped (all)?... was it water, the profound abyss? death was not then, nor immortality: there was no distinction of day or night. that one breathed calmly, self-supported; then was nothing different from it, or above it. in the beginning darkness existed, enveloped in darkness. all this was undistinguishable water. that one which lay void and wrapped in nothingness was developed by the power of fervour. desire first arose in it, which was the primal germ of mind (and which) sages, searching with their intellect, have discovered to be the bond which connects entity with non-entity. the ray (or cord) which stretched across these (worlds), was it below or was it above? there were there impregnating powers and mighty forces, a self-supporting principle beneath and energy aloft. who knows? who here can declare whence has sprung, whence this creation? the gods are subsequent to the development of this (universe); who then knows whence it arose? from what this creation arose, and whether (any one) made it or not, he who in the highest heaven is its ruler, he verily knows, or (even) he does not know."( ) ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., v. . here there is a vedic hymn of the origin of things, from a book, it is true, supposed to be late, which is almost, if not absolutely, free from mythological ideas. the "self-supporting principle beneath and energy aloft" may refer, as dr. muir suggests, to the father, heaven above, and the mother, earth beneath. the "bond between entity and non-entity" is sought in a favourite idea of the indian philosophers, that of tapas or "fervour". the other speculations remind us, though they are much more restrained and temperate in character, of the metaphysical chants of the new zealand priests, of the zunis, of popol vuh, and so on. these belong to very early culture. what is the relative age of this hymn? if it could be proved to be the oldest in the veda, it would demonstrate no more than this, that in time exceedingly remote the aryans of india possessed a philosopher, perhaps a school of philosophers, who applied the minds to abstract speculations on the origin of things. it could not prove that mythological speculations had not preceded the attempts of a purer philosophy. but the date cannot be ascertained. mr. max muller cannot go farther than the suggestion that the hymn is an expression of the perennis quaedam philosophia of leibnitz. we are also warned that a hymn is not necessarily modern because it is philosophical.( ) certainly that is true; the zunis, maoris, and mangaians exhibit amazing powers of abstract thought. we are not concerned to show that this hymn is late; but it seems almost superfluous to remark that ideas like those which it contains can scarcely be accepted as expressing man's earliest theory of the origin of all things. we turn from such ideas to those which the aryans of india have in common with black men and red men, with far-off finns and scandinavians, chaldaeans, haidahs, cherokees, murri and maori, mangaians and egyptians. ( ) history of sanskrit literature, p. . the next vedic account of creation which we propose to consider is as remote as possible in character from the sublime philosophic poem. in the purusha sukta, the ninetieth hymn of the tenth book of the rig-veda sanhita, we have a description of the creation of all things out of the severed limbs of a magnified non-natural man, purusha. this conception is of course that which occurs in the norse myths of the rent body of ymir. borr's sons took the body of the giant ymir and of his flesh formed the earth, of his blood seas and waters, of his bones mountains, of his teeth rocks and stones, of his hair all manner of plants, of his skull the firmament, of his brains the clouds, and so forth. in chaldean story, bel cuts in twain the magnified non-natural woman omorca, and converts the halves of her body into heaven and earth. among the iroquois in north america, chokanipok was the giant whose limbs, bones and blood furnished the raw material of many natural objects; while in mangaia portions of ru, in egypt of set and osiris, in greece of dionysus zagreus were used in creating various things, such as stones, plants and metals. the same ideas precisely are found in the ninetieth hymn of the tenth book of the rig-veda. yet it is a singular thing that, in all the discussions as to the antiquity and significance of this hymn which have come under our notice, there has not been one single reference made to parallel legends among aryan or non-aryan peoples. in accordance with the general principles which guide us in this work, we are inclined to regard any ideas which are at once rude in character and widely distributed, both among civilised and uncivilised races, as extremely old, whatever may be the age of the literary form in which they are presented. but the current of learned opinions as to the date of the purusha sukta, the vedic hymn about the sacrifice of purusha and the creation of the world out of fragments of his body, runs in the opposite direction. the hymn is not regarded as very ancient by most sanskrit scholars. we shall now quote the hymn, which contains the data on which any theory as to its age must be founded:--( ) ( ) rig-veda, x. ; muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . "purusha has a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, a thousand feet. on every side enveloping the earth, he overpassed (it) by a space of ten fingers. purusha himself is this whole (universe), whatever is and whatever shall be.... when the gods performed a sacrifice with purusha as the oblation, the spring was its butter, the summer its fuel, and the autumn its (accompanying) offering. this victim, purusha, born in the beginning, they immolated on the sacrificial grass. with him the gods, the sadhyas, and the rishis sacrificed. from that universal sacrifice were provided curds and butter. it formed those aerial (creatures) and animals both wild and tame. from that universal sacrifice sprang the ric and saman verses, the metres and yajush. from it sprang horses, and all animals with two rows of teeth; kine sprang from it; from it goats and sheep. when (the gods) divided purusha, into how many parts did they cut him up? what was his mouth? what arms (had he)? what (two objects) are said (to have been) his thighs and feet? the brahman was his mouth; the rajanya was made his arms; the being (called) the vaisya, he was his thighs; the sudra sprang from his feet. the moon sprang from his soul (mahas), the sun from his eye, indra and agni from his mouth, and yaiyu from his breath. from his navel arose the air, from his head the sky, from his feet the earth, from his ear the (four) quarters; in this manner (the gods) formed the world. when the gods, performing sacrifice, bound purusha as a victim, there were seven sticks (stuck up) for it (around the fire), and thrice seven pieces of fuel were made. with sacrifice the gods performed the sacrifice. these were the earliest rites. these great powers have sought the sky, where are the former sadhyas, gods." the myth here stated is plain enough in its essential facts. the gods performed a sacrifice with a gigantic anthropomorphic being (purusha = man) as the victim. sacrifice is not found, as a rule, in the religious of the most backward races of all; it is, relatively, an innovation, as shall be shown later. his head, like the head of ymir, formed the sky, his eye the sun, animals sprang from his body. the four castes are connected with, and it appears to be implied that they sprang from, his mouth, arms, thighs and feet. it is obvious that this last part of the myth is subsequent to the formation of castes. this is one of the chief arguments for the late date of the hymn, as castes are not distinctly recognised elsewhere in the rig-veda. mr. max muller( ) believes the hymn to be "modern both in its character and in its diction," and this opinion he supports by philological arguments. dr. muir( ) says that the hymn "has every character of modernness both in its diction and ideas". dr haug, on the other hand,( ) in a paper read in , admits that the present form of the hymn is not older than the greater part of the hymns of the tenth book, and than those of the atharva veda; but he adds, "the ideas which the hymn contains are certainly of a primeval antiquity.... in fact, the hymn is found in the yajur-veda among the formulas connected with human sacrifices, which were formerly practised in india." we have expressly declined to speak about "primeval antiquity," as we have scarcely any evidence as to the myths and mental condition for example, even of palaeolithic man; but we may so far agree with dr. haug as to affirm that the fundamental idea of the purusha sukta, namely, the creation of the world or portions of the world out of the fragments of a fabulous anthropomorphic being is common to chaldeans, iroquois, egyptians, greeks, tinnehs, mangaians and aryan indians. this is presumptive proof of the antiquity of the ideas which dr. muir and mr. max muller think relatively modern. the savage and brutal character of the invention needs no demonstration. among very low savages, for example, the tinnehs of british north america, not a man, not a god, but a dog, is torn up, and the fragments are made into animals.( ) on the paloure river a beaver suffers in the manner of purusha. we may, for these reasons, regard the chief idea of the myth as extremely ancient--infinitely more ancient than the diction of the hymn. ( ) ancient sanskrit literature, . ( ) sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . ( ) sanskrit text, nd edit., ii. . ( ) hearne's journey, pp. - . as to the mention of the castes, supposed to be a comparatively modern institution, that is not an essential part of the legend. when the idea of creation out of a living being was once received it was easy to extend the conception to any institution, of which the origin was forgotten. the teutonic race had a myth which explained the origin of the classes eorl, ceorl and thrall (earl, churl and slave). a south american people, to explain the different ranks in society, hit on the very myth of plato, the legend of golden, silver and copper races, from which the ranks of society have descended. the vedic poet, in our opinion, merely extended to the institution of caste a myth which had already explained the origin of the sun, the firmament, animals, and so forth, on the usual lines of savage thought. the purusha sukta is the type of many other indian myths of creation, of which the following( ) one is extremely noteworthy. "prajapati desired to propagate. he formed the trivrit (stoma) from his mouth. after it were produced the deity agni, the metre gayatri,... of men the brahman, of beasts the goat;... from his breast, and from his arms he formed the panchadasa (stoma). after it were created the god indra, the trishtubh metre,... of men the rajanya, of beasts the sheep. hence they are vigorous, because they were created from vigour. from his middle he formed the saptadasa (stoma). after it were created the gods called the yisvadevas, the jagati metre,... of men the vaisya, of beasts kine. hence they are to be eaten, because they were created from the receptacle of food." the form in which we receive this myth is obviously later than the institution of caste and the technical names for metres. yet surely any statement that kine "are to be eaten" must be older than the universal prohibition to eat that sacred animal the cow. possibly we might argue that when this theory of creation was first promulgated, goats and sheep were forbidden food.( ) ( ) taittirya sanhita, or yajur-veda, vii. i. - ; muir, nd edit., i. . ( ) mr. m'lennan has drawn some singular inferences from this passage, connecting, as it does, certain gods and certain classes of men with certain animals, in a manner somewhat suggestive of totemism (fornightly review), february, . turning from the vedas to the brahmanas, we find a curiously savage myth of the origin of species.( ) according to this passage of the brahmana, "this universe was formerly soul only, in the form of purusha". he caused himself to fall asunder into two parts. thence arose a husband and a wife. "he cohabited with her; from them men were born. she reflected, 'how does he, after having produced me from himself, cohabit with me? ah, let me disappear.' she became a cow, and the other a bull, and he cohabited with her. from them kine were produced." after a series of similar metamorphoses of the female into all animal shapes, and a similar series of pursuits by the male in appropriate form, "in this manner pairs of all sorts of creatures down to ants were created". this myth is a parallel to the various greek legends about the amours in bestial form of zeus, nemesis, cronus, demeter and other gods and goddesses. in the brahmanas this myth is an explanation of the origin of species, and such an explanation as could scarcely have occurred to a civilised mind. in other myths in the brahmanas, prajapati creates men from his body, or rather the fluid of his body becomes a tortoise, the tortoise becomes a man (purusha), with similar examples of speculation.( ) ( ) satapatha brahmana, xiv. , ; muir, nd edit., i. . ( ) similar tales are found among the khonds. among all these brahmana myths of the part taken by prajapati in the creation or evoking of things, the question arises who was prajapati? his role is that of the great hare in american myth; he is a kind of demiurge, and his name means "the master of things created," like the australian biamban, "master," and the american title of the chief manitou, "master of life",( ) dr. muir remarks that, as the vedic mind advances from mere divine beings who "reside and operate in fire" (agni), "dwell and shine in the sun" (surya), or "in the atmosphere" (indra), towards a conception of deity, "the farther step would be taken of speaking of the deity under such new names as visvakarman and prajapati". these are "appellatives which do not designate any limited functions connected with any single department of nature, but the more general and abstract notions of divine power operating in the production and government of the universe". now the interesting point is that round this new and abstract name gravitate the most savage and crudest myths, exactly the myths we meet among hottentots and nootkas. for example, among the hottentots it is heitsi eibib, among the huarochiri indians it is uiracocha, who confers, by curse or blessing, on the animals their proper attributes and characteristics.( ) in the satapatha brahmana it is prajapati who takes this part, that falls to rude culture-heroes of hottentots and huarochiris.( ) how prajapati made experiments in a kind of state-aided evolution, so to speak, or evolution superintended and assisted from above, will presently be set forth. ( ) bergaigne, iii. . ( ) avila, fables of the yncas, p. . ( ) english translation, ii. . in the puranas creation is a process renewed after each kalpa, or vast mundane period. brahma awakes from his slumber, and finds the world a waste of water. then, just as in the american myths of the coyote, and the slavonic myths of the devil and the doves, a boar or a fish or a tortoise fishes up the world out of the waters. that boar, fish, tortoise, or what not, is brahma or vishnu. this savage conception of the beginnings of creation in the act of a tortoise, fish, or boar is not first found in the puranas, as mr. muir points out, but is indicated in the black yajur veda and in the satapatha brahmana.( ) in the satapatha brahmana, xiv. , , , we discover the idea, so common in savage myths--for example, in that of the navajoes--that the earth was at first very small, a mere patch, and grew bigger after the animal fished it up. "formerly this earth was only so large, of the size of a span. a boar called emusha raised her up." here the boar makes no pretence of being the incarnation of a god, but is a mere boar sans phrase, like the creative coyote of the papogas and chinooks, or the musk-rat of the tacullies. this is a good example of the development of myths. savages begin, as we saw, by mythically regarding various animals, spiders, grasshoppers, ravens, eagles, cockatoos, as the creators or recoverers of the world. as civilisation advances, those animals still perform their beneficent functions, but are looked on as gods in disguise. in time the animals are often dropped altogether, though they hold their place with great tenacity in the cosmogonic traditions of the aryans in india. when we find the satapatha brahmana alleging( ) "that all creatures are descended from a tortoise," we seem to be among the rude indians of the pacific coast. but when the tortoise is identified with aditya, and when adityas prove to be solar deities, sons of aditi, and when aditi is recognised by mr. muller as the dawn, we see that the aryan mind has not been idle, but has added a good deal to the savage idea of the descent of men and beasts from a tortoise.( ) ( ) muir, nd edit., vol. i. p. . ( ) muir, nd edit., vol. i. p. . ( ) see ternaux compans' nouvelles annales des voyages, lxxxvi. p. . for mexican traditions, "mexican and australian hurricane world's end," bancroft, v. . another feature of savage myths of creation we found to be the introduction of a crude theory of evolution. we saw that among the potoyante tribe of the digger indians, and among certain australian tribes, men and beasts were supposed to have been slowly evolved and improved out of the forms first of reptiles and then of quadrupeds. in the mythologies of the more civilised south american races, the idea of the survival of the fittest was otherwise expressed. the gods made several attempts at creation, and each set of created beings proving in one way or other unsuited to its environment, was permitted to die out or degenerated into apes, and was succeeded by a set better adapted for survival.( ) in much the same way the satapatha brahmana( ) represents mammals as the last result of a series of creative experiments. "prajapati created living beings, which perished for want of food. birds and serpents perished thus. prajapati reflected, 'how is it that my creatures perish after having been formed?' he perceived this: 'they perish from want of food'. in his own presence he caused milk to be supplied to breasts. he created living beings, which, resorting to the breasts, were thus preserved. these are the creatures which did not perish." ( ) this myth is found in popol vuh. a chinook myth of the same sort, bancroft, v. . ( ) ii. , ; muir, nd edit., i. . the common myth which derives the world from a great egg--the myth perhaps most familiar in its finnish shape--is found in the satapatha brahmana.( ) "in the beginning this universe was waters, nothing but waters. the waters desired: 'how can we be reproduced?' so saying, they toiled, they performed austerity. while they were performing austerity, a golden egg came into existence. it then became a year.... from it in a year a man came into existence, who was prajapati.... he conceived progeny in himself; with his mouth he created the gods." according to another text,( ) "prajapati took the form of a tortoise". the tortoise is the same as aditya.( ) ( ) xi. , , ; muir, journal of royal asiatic society, . ( ) satapatha brahmana, vii. , , . ( ) aitareya brahmana, iii. ( , ), a very discreditable origin of species. it is now time to examine the aryan shape of the widely spread myth about the marriage of heaven and earth, and the fortunes of their children. we have already seen that in new zealand heaven and earth were regarded as real persons, of bodily parts and passions, united in a secular embrace. we shall apply the same explanation to the greek myth of gaea and of the mutilation of cronus. in india, dyaus (heaven) answers to the greek uranus and the maori rangi, while prithivi (earth) is the greek gaea, the maori papa. in the veda, heaven and earth are constantly styled "parents";( ) but this we might regard as a mere metaphorical expression, still common in poetry. a passage of the aitareya brahmana, however, retains the old conception, in which there was nothing metaphorical at all.( ) these two worlds, heaven and earth, were once joined. subsequently they were separated (according to one account, by indra, who thus plays the part of cronus and of tane mahuta). "heaven and earth," says dr. muir, "are regarded as the parents not only of men, but of the gods also, as appears from the various texts where they are designated by the epithet devapatre, 'having gods for their children'." by men in an early stage of thought this myth was accepted along with others in which heaven and earth were regarded as objects created by one of their own children, as by indra,( ) who "stretched them out like a hide," who, like atlas, "sustains and upholds them"( ) or, again, tvashtri, the divine smith, wrought them by his craft; or, once more, heaven and earth sprung from the head and feet of purusha. in short, if any one wished to give an example of that recklessness of orthodoxy or consistency which is the mark of early myth, he could find no better example than the indian legends of the origin of things. perhaps there is not one of the myths current among the lower races which has not its counterpart in the indian brahmanas. it has been enough for us to give a selection of examples. ( ) muir, v. . ( ) iv. ; haug, ii. . ( ) rig-veda, viii. , . ( ) ibid., iii. , . chapter ix. greek myths of the origin of the world and man. the greeks practically civilised when we first meet them in homer--their mythology, however, is full of repulsive features--the hypothesis that many of these are savage survivals--are there other examples of such survival in greek life and institutions?--greek opinion was constant that the race had been savage--illustrations of savage survival from greek law of homicide, from magic, religion, human sacrifice, religious art, traces of totemism, and from the mysteries--conclusion: that savage survival may also be expected in greek myths. the greeks, when we first make their acquaintance in the homeric poems, were a cultivated people, dwelling, under the government of royal families, in small city states. this social condition they must have attained by b.c., and probably much earlier. they had already a long settled past behind them, and had no recollection of any national migration from the "cradle of the aryan race". on the other hand, many tribes thought themselves earth-born from the soil of the place where they were settled. the maori traditions prove that memories of a national migration may persist for several hundred years among men ignorant of writing. greek legend, among a far more civilised race, only spoke of occasional foreign settlers from sidon, lydia, or egypt. the homeric greeks were well acquainted with almost all the arts of life, though it is not absolutely certain that they could write, and certainly they were not addicted to reading. in war they fought from chariots, like the egyptians and assyrians; they were bold seafarers, being accustomed to harry the shores even of egypt, and they had large commercial dealings with the people of tyre and sidon. in the matter of religion they were comparatively free and unrestrained. their deities, though, in myth, capricious in character, might be regarded in many ways as "making for righteousness". they protected the stranger and the suppliant; they sanctioned the oath, they frowned on the use of poisoned arrows; marriage and domestic life were guarded by their good-will; they dispensed good and evil fortune, to be accepted with humility and resignation among mortals. the patriarchal head of each family performed the sacrifices for his household, the king for the state, the ruler of mycenae, agamemnon, for the whole achaean host encamped before the walls of troy. at the same time, prophets, like calchas, possessed considerable influence, due partly to an hereditary gift of second-sight, as in the case of theoclymenus,( ) partly to acquired professional skill in observing omens, partly to the direct inspiration of the gods. the oracle at delphi, or, as it is called by homer, pytho, was already famous, and religion recognised, in various degrees, all the gods familiar to the later cult of hellas. in a people so advanced, so much in contact with foreign races and foreign ideas, and so wonderfully gifted by nature with keen intellect and perfect taste, it is natural to expect, if anywhere, a mythology almost free from repulsive elements, and almost purged of all that we regard as survivals from the condition of savagery. but while greek mythology is richer far than any other in beautiful legend, and is thronged with lovely and majestic forms of gods and goddesses, nymphs and oreads ideally fair, none the less a very large proportion of its legends is practically on a level with the myths of maoris, thlinkeets, cahrocs and bushmen. ( ) odyssey, xx. . this is the part of greek mythology which has at all times excited most curiosity, and has been made the subject of many systems of interpretation. the greeks themselves, from almost the earliest historical ages, were deeply concerned either to veil or explain away the blasphemous horrors of their own "sacred chapters," poetic traditions and temple legends. we endeavour to account for these as relics of an age of barbarism lying very far behind the time of homer--an age when the ancestors of the greeks either borrowed, or more probably developed for themselves, the kind of myths by which savage peoples endeavour to explain the nature and origin of the world and all phenomena. the correctness of this explanation, resting as it does on the belief that the greeks were at one time in the savage status, might be demonstrated from the fact that not only myths, but greek life in general, and especially greek ritual, teemed with surviving examples of institutions and of manners which are found everywhere among the most backward and barbarous races. it is not as if only the myths of greece retained this rudeness, or as if the greeks supposed themselves to have been always civilised. the whole of greek life yields relics of savagery when the surface is excavated ever so slightly. moreover, that the greeks, as soon as they came to reflect on these matters at all, believed themselves to have emerged from a condition of savagery is undeniable. the poets are entirely at one on this subject with moschion, a writer of the school of euripides. "the time hath been, yea, it hath been," he says, "when men lived like the beasts, dwelling in mountain caves, and clefts unvisited of the sun.... then they broke not the soil with ploughs nor by aid of iron, but the weaker man was slain to make the supper of the stronger," and so on.( ) this view of the savage origin of mankind was also held by aristotle:( ) "it is probable that the first men, whether they were produced by the earth (earth-born) or survived from some deluge, were on a level of ignorance and darkness".( ) this opinion, consciously held and stated by philosophers and poets, reveals itself also in the universal popular greek traditions that men were originally ignorant of fire, agriculture, metallurgy and all the other arts and conveniences of life, till they were instructed by ideal culture-heroes, like prometheus, members of a race divine or half divine. a still more curious athenian tradition (preserved by varro) maintained, not only that marriage was originally unknown, but that, as among australians and some red indians, the family name, descended through the mother, and kinship was reckoned on the female side before the time of cecrops.( ) ( ) moschion; cf. preller, ausgewahlte aufsatze, p. . ( ) politics, ii. - ; plato, laws, - . ( ) compare horace, satires, i. , ; lucretius, v. . ( ) suidas, s.v. "prometheus"; augustine, de civitate dei, xviii. . while greek opinion, both popular and philosophical, admitted, or rather asserted, that savagery lay in the background of the historical prospect, greek institutions retained a thousand birth-marks of savagery. it is manifest and undeniable that the greek criminal law, as far as it effected murder, sprang directly from the old savage blood-feud.( ) the athenian law was a civilised modification of the savage rule that the kindred of a slain man take up his blood-feud. where homicide was committed within the circle of blood relationship, as by orestes, greek religion provided the erinnyes to punish an offence which had, as it were, no human avenger. the precautions taken by murderers to lay the ghost of the slain man were much like those in favour among the australians. the greek cut off the extremities of his victim, the tips of the hands and feet, and disposed them neatly beneath the arm-pits of the slain man.( ) in the same spirit, and for the same purpose, the australian black cuts off the thumbs of his dead enemy, that the ghost too may be mutilated and prevented from throwing at him with a ghostly spear. we learn also from apollonius rhodius and his scholiast that greek murderers used thrice to suck in and spit out the gore of their victims, perhaps with some idea of thereby partaking of their blood, and so, by becoming members of their kin, putting it beyond the power of the ghosts to avenge themselves. similar ideas inspire the worldwide savage custom of making an artificial "blood brotherhood" by mingling the blood of the contracting parties. as to the ceremonies of cleansing from blood-guiltiness among the greeks, we may conjecture that these too had their primitive side; for orestes, in the eumenides, maintains that he has been purified of his mother's slaughter by sufficient blood of swine. but this point will be illustrated presently, when we touch on the mysteries. ( ) duncker, history of greece, engl. transl., vol. ii. p. . ( ) see "arm-pitting in ancient greece," in the american journal of philology, october, , where a discussion of the familiar texts in aeschylus and apollonius rhodius will be found. ritual and myth, as might be expected, retained vast masses of savage rites and superstitious habits and customs. to be "in all things too superstitious," too full of deisidaimonia, was even in st. paul's time the characteristic of the athenians. now superstition, or deisidaimonia, is defined by theophrastus,( ) as "cowardice in regard to the supernatural" ((greek text omitted)). this "cowardice" has in all ages and countries secured the permanence of ritual and religious traditions. men have always argued, like one of the persons in m. renan's play, le pretre de nemi, that "l'ordre du monde depend de l'ordre des rites qu'on observe". the familiar endurable sequence of the seasons of spring, and seed-sowing, and harvest depend upon the due performance of immemorial religious acts. "in the mystic deposits," says dinarchus, "lies the safety of the city."( ) what the "mystic deposits" were nobody knows for certain, but they must have been of very archaic sanctity, and occur among the arunta and the pawnees. ( ) characters. ( ) ap. hermann, lehrbuch, p. ; aglaophamus, . ritual is preserved because it preserves luck. not only among the romans and the brahmans, with their endless minute ritual actions, but among such lower races as the kanekas of new caledonia, the efficacy of religious functions is destroyed by the slightest accidental infraction of established rules.( ) the same timid conservatism presides over myth, and in each locality the mystery-plays, with their accompanying narratives, preserved inviolate the early forms of legend. myth and ritual do not admit of being argued about. "c'etait le rite etabli. ce n'etait pas plus absurde qu'autre chose," says the conservative in m. renan's piece, defending the mode of appointment of the priest who slew the slayer, and shall himself be slain. ( ) thus the watchers of the dead in new caledonia are fed by the sorcerer with a mess at the end of a very long spoon, and should the food miss the mouth, all the ceremonies have to be repeated. this detail is from mr. j. j. atkinson. now, if the rites and myths preserved by the timorousness of this same "cowardice towards the supernatural" were originally evolved in the stage of savagery, savage they would remain, as it is impious and dangerous to reform them till the religion which they serve perishes with them. these relics in greek ritual and faith are very commonly explained as due to oriental influences, as things borrowed from the dark and bloody superstitions of asia. but this attempt to save the native greek character for "blitheness" and humanity must not be pushed too far.( ) it must be remembered that the cruder and wilder sacrifices and legends of greece were strictly local; that they were attached to these ancient temples, old altars, barbarous xoana, or wooden idols, and rough fetish stones, in which pausanias found the most ancient relics of hellenic theology. this is a proof of their antiquity and a presumption in favour of their freedom from foreign influence. most of these things were survivals from that dimly remembered prehistoric age in which the greeks, not yet gathered into city states, lived in villages or kraals, or pueblos, as we should translate (greek text omitted), if we were speaking of african or american tribes. in that stage the early greeks must have lacked both the civic and the national or panhellenic sentiment; their political unit was the clan, which, again, answered in part to the totem kindred of america, or africa, or australia.( ) in this stagnant condition they could not have made acquaintance with the many creeds of semitic and other alien peoples on the shores of the levant.( ) it was later, when greece had developed the city life of the heroic age, that her adventurous sons came into close contact with egypt and phoenicia. ( ) claus, de antiq. form. dianae, , , . ( ) as c. o. muller judiciously remarks: "the scenes of nine-tenths of the greek myths are laid in particular districts of greece, and they speak of the primeval inhabitants, of the lineage and adventures of native heroes. they manifest an accurate acquaintance with individual localities, which, at a time when greece was neither explored by antiquaries, nor did geographical handbooks exist, could be possessed only by the inhabitants of these localities." muller gives, as examples, myths of bears more or less divine. scientific mythology, pp. , . ( ) compare claus, de dianae antiquissima natura, p. . in the colonising time, still later--perhaps from b.c. downwards--the greeks, settled on sites whence they had expelled sidonians or sicanians, very naturally continued, with modifications, the worship of such gods as they found already in possession. like the romans, the greeks easily recognised their own deities in the analogous members of foreign polytheistic systems. thus we can allow for alien elements in such gods and goddesses as zeus asterios, as aphrodite of cyprus or eryx, or the many-breasted ephesian artemis, whose monstrous form had its exact analogue among the aztecs in that many-breasted goddess of the maguey plant whence beer was made. to discern and disengage the borrowed factors in the hellenic olympus by analysis of divine names is a task to which comparative philology may lawfully devote herself; but we cannot so readily explain by presumed borrowing from without the rude xoana of the ancient local temples, the wild myths of the local legends, the sacra which were the exclusive property of old-world families, butadae or eumolpidae. these are clearly survivals from a stage of greek culture earlier than the city state, earlier than the heroic age of the roving greek vikings, and far earlier than the greek colonies. they belong to that conservative and immobile period when the tribe or clan, settled in its scattered kraals, lived a life of agriculture, hunting and cattle-breeding, engaged in no larger or more adventurous wars than border feuds about women or cattle. such wars were on a humbler scale than even nestor's old fights with the epeians; such adventures did not bring the tribe into contact with alien religions. if sidonian merchantmen chanced to establish a factory near a tribe in this condition, their religion was not likely to make many proselytes. these reasons for believing that most of the wilder element in greek ritual and myth was native may be briefly recapitulated, as they are often overlooked. the more strange and savage features meet us in local tales and practices, often in remote upland temples and chapels. there they had survived from the society of the village status, before villages were gathered into cities, before greeks had taken to a roving life, or made much acquaintance with distant and maritime peoples. for these historical reasons, it may be assumed that the local religious antiquities of greece, especially in upland districts like arcadia and elis, are as old, and as purely national, as free from foreign influences as any greek institutions can be. in these rites and myths of true folk-lore and volksleben, developed before hellas won its way to the pure hellenic stage, before egypt and phoenicia were familiar, should be found that common rude element which greeks share with the other races of the world, and which was, to some extent, purged away by the genius of homer and pindar, pii vates et phaebo digna locuti. in proof of this local conservatism, some passages collected by k. f. hermann in his lehrbuch der griechischen antiquitaten( ) may be cited. thus isocrates writes,( ) "this was all their care, neither to destroy any of the ancestral rites, nor to add aught beyond what was ordained". clemens alexandrinus reports that certain thessalians worshipped storks, "in accordance with use and wont".( ) plato lays down the very "law of least change" which has been described. "whether the legislator is establishing a new state or restoring an old and decayed one, in respect of gods and temples,... if he be a man of sense, he will make no change in anything which the oracle of delphi, or dodona, or ammon has sanctioned, in whatever manner." in this very passage plato( ) speaks of rites "derived from tyrrhenia or cyprus" as falling within the later period of the greek wanderjahre. on the high religious value of things antique, porphyry wrote in a late age, and when the new religion of christ was victorious, "comparing the new sacred images with the old, we see that the old are more simply fashioned, yet are held divine, but the new, admired for their elaborate execution, have less persuasion of divinity,"--a remark anticipated by pausanias, "the statues daedalus wrought are quainter to the outward view, yet there shows forth in them somewhat supernatural".( ) so athenaeus( ) reports of a visitor to the shrine of leto in delos, that he expected the ancient statue of the mother of apollo to be something remarkable, but, unlike the pious porphyry, burst out laughing when he found it a shapeless wooden idol. these idols were dressed out, fed and adorned as if they had life.( ) it is natural that myths dating from an age when greek gods resembled polynesian idols should be as rude as polynesian myths. the tenacity of local myth is demonstrated by pausanias, who declares that even in the highly civilised attica the demes retained legends different from those of the central city--the legends, probably, which were current before the villages were "synoecised" into athens.( ) ( ) zweiter theil, . ( ) areop., . ( ) clem. alex., oxford, , i. . ( ) laws, v. . ( ) de. abst., ii. ; paus., ii. , . ( ) xiv. . ( ) hermann, op. cit., p. , note . ( ) pausanias, i. , . it appears, then, that greek ritual necessarily preserves matter of the highest antiquity, and that the oldest rites and myths will probably be found, not in the panhellenic temples, like that in olympia, not in the national poets, like homer and sophocles, but in the local fanes of early tribal gods, and in the local mysteries, and the myths which came late, if they came at all, into literary circulation. this opinion is strengthened and illustrated by that invaluable guide-book of the artistic and religious pilgrim written in the second century after our era by pausanias. if we follow him, we shall find that many of the ceremonies, stories and idols which he regarded as oldest are analogous to the idols and myths of the contemporary backward races. let us then, for the sake of illustrating the local and savage survivals in greek religion, accompany pausanias in his tour through hellas. in christian countries, especially in modern times, the contents of one church are very like the furniture of another church; the functions in one resemble those in all, though on the continent some shrines still retain relics and customs of the period when local saints had their peculiar rites. but it was a very different thing in greece. the pilgrim who arrived at a temple never could guess what oddity or horror in the way of statues, sacrifices, or stories might be prepared for his edification. in the first place, there were human sacrifices. these are not familiar to low savages, if known to them at all. probably they were first offered to barbaric royal ghosts, and thence transferred to gods. in the town of salamis, in cyprus, about the date of hadrian, the devout might have found the priest slaying a human victim to zeus,--an interesting custom, instituted, according to lactantius, by teucer, and continued till the age of the roman empire.( ) ( ) euseb., praep. ev., iv. , mentions, among peoples practising human sacrifices, rhodes, salamis, heliopolis, chios, tenedos, lacedaemon, arcadia and athens; and, among gods thus honoured, hera, athene, cronus, ares, dionysus, zeus and apollo. for dionysus the cannibal, plutarch, themist., ; porphyr., abst., ii. . for the sacrifice to zeus laphystius, see grote, i. c. vi., and his array of authorities, especially herodotus, vii. . clemens alexandrinus (i. ) mentions the messenians, to zeus; the taurians, to artemis, the folk of pella, to peleus and chiron; the cretans, to zeus; the lesbians, to dionysus. geusius de victimis humanis ( ) may be consulted. at alos in achaia phthiotis, the stranger might have seen an extraordinary spectacle, though we admit that the odds would have been highly against his chance of witnessing the following events. as the stranger approaches the town-hall, he observes an elderly and most respectable citizen strolling in the same direction. the citizen is so lost in thought that apparently he does not notice where he is going. behind him comes a crowd of excited but silent people, who watch him with intense interest. the citizen reaches the steps of the town-hall, while the excitement of his friends behind increases visibly. without thinking, the elderly person enters the building. with a wild and un-aryan howl, the other people of alos are down on him, pinion him, wreathe him with flowery garlands, and, lead him to the temple of zeus laphystius, or "the glutton," where he is solemnly sacrificed on the altar. this was the custom of the good greeks of alos whenever a descendant of the house of athamas entered the prytaneion. of course the family were very careful, as a rule, to keep at a safe distance from the forbidden place. "what a sacrifice for greeks!" as the author of the minos( ) says in that dialogue which is incorrectly attributed to plato. "he cannot get out except to be sacrificed," says herodotus, speaking of the unlucky descendant of athamas. the custom appears to have existed as late as the time of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius.( ) ( ) , c.; plato, laws, vi. , c. ( ) argonautica, vii. . even in the second century, when pausanias visited arcadia, he found what seem to have been human sacrifices to zeus. the passage is so very strange and romantic that we quote a part of it.( ) "the lycaean hill hath other marvels to show, and chiefly this: thereon there is a grove of zeus lycaeus, wherein may men in nowise enter; but if any transgresses the law and goes within, he must die within the space of one year. this tale, moreover, they tell, namely, that whatsoever man or beast cometh within the grove casts no shadow, and the hunter pursues not the deer into that wood, but, waiting till the beast comes forth again, sees that it has left its shadow behind. and on the highest crest of the whole mountain there is a mound of heaped-up earth, the altar of zeus lycaeus, and the more part of peloponnesus can be seen from that place. and before the altar stand two pillars facing the rising sun, and thereon golden eagles of yet more ancient workmanship. and on this altar they sacrifice to zeus in a manner that may not be spoken, and little liking had i to make much search into this matter. but let it be as it is, and as it hath been from the beginning." the words "as it hath been from the beginning" are ominous and significant, for the traditional myths of arcadia tell of the human sacrifices of lycaon, and of men who, tasting the meat of a mixed sacrifice, put human flesh between their lips unawares.( ) this aspect of greek religion, then, is almost on a level with the mysterious cannibal horrors of "voodoo," as practised by the secret societies of negroes in hayti. but concerning these things, as pausanias might say, it is little pleasure to inquire. ( ) pausanias, viii. . ( ) plato, rep., viii. , d. this rite occurs in some african coronation ceremonies. even where men were not sacrificed to the gods, the tourist among the temples would learn that these bloody rites had once been customary, and ceremonies existed by way of commutation. this is precisely what we find in vedic religion, in which the empty form of sacrificing a man was gone through, and the origin of the world was traced to the fragments of a god sacrificed by gods.( ) in sparta was an altar of artemis orthia, and a wooden image of great rudeness and antiquity--so rude indeed, that pausanias, though accustomed to greek fetish-stones, thought it must be of barbaric origin. the story was that certain people of different towns, when sacrificing at the altar, were seized with frenzy and slew each other. the oracle commanded that the altar should be sprinkled with human blood. men were therefore chosen by lot to be sacrificed till lycurgus commuted the offering, and sprinkled the altar with the blood of boys who were flogged before the goddess. the priestess holds the statue of the goddess during the flogging, and if any of the boys are but lightly scourged, the image becomes too heavy for her to bear. ( ) the purusha sukhta, in rig-veda, x. . the ionians near anthea had a temple of artemis triclaria, and to her it had been customary to sacrifice yearly a youth and maiden of transcendent beauty. in pausanias's time the human sacrifice was commuted. he himself beheld the strange spectacle of living beasts and birds being driven into the fire to artemis laphria, a calydonian goddess, and he had seen bears rush back among the ministrants; but there was no record that any one had ever been hurt by these wild beasts.( ) the bear was a beast closely connected with artemis, and there is some reason to suppose that the goddess had herself been a she-bear or succeeded to the cult of a she-bear in the morning of time.( ) ( ) paus., vii. , . ( ) see "artemis", postea. it may be believed that where symbolic human sacrifices are offered, that is, where some other victim is slain or a dummy of a man is destroyed, and where legend maintains that the sacrifice was once human, there men and women were originally the victims. greek ritual and greek myth were full of such tales and such commutations.( ) in rome, as is well known, effigies of men called argives were sacrificed.( ) as an example of a beast-victim given in commutation, pausanias mentions( ) the case of the folk of potniae, who were compelled once a year to offer to dionysus a boy, in the bloom of youth. but the sacrifice was commuted for a goat. ( ) see hermann, alterthumer., ii. - , for abundant examples. ( ) plutarch, quest. rom. . ( ) ix. , . these commutations are familiar all over the world. even in mexico, where human sacrifices and ritual cannibalism were daily events, quetzalcoatl was credited with commuting human sacrifices for blood drawn from the bodies of the religious. in this one matter even the most conservative creeds and the faiths most opposed to change sometimes say with tartuffe:-- le ciel defend, de vrai, certains contentements, mais on trouve avec lui des accommodements. though the fact has been denied (doubtless without reflection), the fact remains that the greeks offered human sacrifices. now what does this imply? must it be taken as a survival from barbarism, as one of the proofs that the greeks had passed through the barbaric status? the answer is less obvious than might be supposed. sacrifice has two origins. first, there are honorific sacrifices, in which the ghost or god (or divine beast, if a divine beast be worshipped) is offered the food he is believed to prefer. this does not occur among the lowest savages. to carnivorous totems, garcilasso says, the indians of peru offered themselves. the feeding of sacred mice in the temples of apollo smintheus is well known. secondly, there are expiatory or piacular sacrifices, in which the worshipper, as it were, fines himself in a child, an ox, or something else that he treasures. the latter kind of sacrifice (most common in cases of crime done or suspected within the circle of kindred) is not necessarily barbaric, except in its cruelty. an example is the attic thargelia, in which two human scape-goats annually bore "the sins of the congregation," and were flogged, driven to the sea with figs tied round their necks, and burned.( ) ( ) compare the marseilles human sacrifice, petron., ; and for the thargelia, tsetzes, chiliads, v. ; hellad. in photius, p. f. and harpoc. s. v. the institution of human sacrifice, then, whether the offering be regarded as food, or as a gift to the god of what is dearest to man (as in the case of jephtha's daughter), or whether the victim be supposed to carry on his head the sins of the people, does not necessarily date from the period of savagery. indeed, sacrifice flourishes most, not among savages, but among advancing barbarians. it would probably be impossible to find any examples of human sacrifices of an expiatory or piacular character, any sacrifices at all, among australians, or andamanese, or fuegians. the notion of presenting food to the supernatural powers, whether ghosts or gods, is relatively rare among savages.( ) the terrible aztec banquets of which the gods were partakers are the most noted examples of human sacrifices with a purely cannibal origin. now there is good reason to guess that human sacrifices with no other origin than cannibalism survived even in ancient greece. "it may be conjectured," writes professor robertson smith,( ) "that the human sacrifices offered to the wolf zeus (lycaeus) in arcadia were originally cannibal feasts of a wolf tribe. the first participants in the rite were, according to later legend, changed into wolves; and in later times( ) at least one fragment of the human flesh was placed among the sacrificial portions derived from other victims, and the man who ate it was believed to become a were-wolf."( ) it is the almost universal rule with cannibals not to eat members of their own stock, just as they do not eat their own totem. thus, as professor robertson smith says, when the human victim is a captive or other foreigner, the human sacrifice may be regarded as a survival of cannibalism. where, on the other hand, the victim is a fellow tribesman, the sacrifice is expiatory or piacular. ( ) jevons, introduction to the science of religion, pp. , . ( ) encyc. brit., s. v. "sacrifice". ( ) plato, rep., viii. , d. ( ) paus., viii. . among greek cannibal gods we cannot fail to reckon the so-called "cannibal dionysus," and probably the zeus of orchomenos, zeus laphystius, who is explained by suidas as "the glutton zeus". the cognate verb ((greek text omitted)) means "to eat with mangling and rending," "to devour gluttonously". by zeus laphystius, then, men's flesh was gorged in this distressing fashion. the evidence of human sacrifice (especially when it seems not piacular, but a relic of cannibalism) raises a presumption that greeks had once been barbarians. the presumption is confirmed by the evidence of early greek religious art. when his curiosity about human sacrifices was satisfied, the pilgrim in greece might turn his attention to the statues and other representations of the gods. he would find that the modern statues by famous artists were beautiful anthropomorphic works in marble or in gold and ivory. it is true that the faces of the ancient gilded dionysi at corinth were smudged all over with cinnabar, like fetish-stones in india or africa.( ) as a rule, however, the statues of historic times were beautiful representations of kindly and gracious beings. the older works were stiff and rigid images, with the lips screwed into an unmeaning smile. older yet were the bronze gods, made before the art of soldering was invented, and formed of beaten plates joined by small nails. still more ancient were the wooden images, which probably bore but a slight resemblance to the human frame, and which were often mere "stocks".( ) perhaps once a year were shown the very early gods, the demeter with the horse's head, the artemis with the fish's tails, the cuckoo hera, whose image was of pear-wood, the zeus with three eyes, the hermes, made after the fashion of the pictures on the walls of sacred caves among the bushmen. but the oldest gods of all, says pausanias repeatedly, were rude stones in the temple or the temple precinct. in achaean pharae he found some thirty squared stones, named each after a god. "among all the greeks in the oldest times rude stones were worshipped in place of statues." the superstitious man in theophrastus's characters used to anoint the sacred stones with oil. the stone which cronus swallowed in mistake for zeus was honoured at delphi, and kept warm with wool wrappings. there was another sacred stone among the troezenians, and the megarians worshipped as apollo a stone cut roughly into a pyramidal form. the argives had a big stone called zeus kappotas. the thespians worshipped a stone which they called eros; "their oldest idol is a rude stone".( ) it is well known that the original fetish-stone has been found in situ below the feet of the statue of apollo in delos. on this showing, then, the religion of very early greeks in greece was not unlike that of modern negroes. the artistic evolution of the gods, a remarkably rapid one after a certain point, could be traced in every temple. it began with the rude stone, and rose to the wooden idol, in which, as we have seen, pausanias and porphyry found such sanctity. next it reached the hammered bronze image, passed through the archaic marbles, and culminated in the finer marbles and the chryselephantine statues of zeus and athena. but none of the ancient sacred objects lost their sacredness. the oldest were always the holiest idols; the oldest of all were stumps and stones, like savage fetish-stones. ( ) pausanias, ii. . ( ) clemens alex., protrept. (oxford, ). p. . ( ) gill, myths of south pacific, p. . compare a god, which proved to be merely pumice-stone, and was regarded as the god of winds and waves, having been drifted to puka-puka. offerings of food were made to it during hurricanes. another argument in favour of the general thesis that savagery left deep marks on greek life in general, and on myth in particular, may be derived from survivals of totemism in ritual and legend. the following instances need not necessarily be accepted, but it may be admitted that they are precisely the traces which totemism would leave had it once existed, and then waned away on the advance of civilisation.( ) ( ) the argument to be derived from the character of the greek (greek text omitted) as a modified form of the totem-kindred is too long and complex to be put forward here. it is stated in custom and myth, "the history of the family," in m'lennan's studies in early history, and is assumed, if not proved, in ancient society by the late mr. lewis morgan. that greeks in certain districts regarded with religious reverence certain plants and animals is beyond dispute. that some stocks even traced their lineage to beasts will be shown in the chapter on greek divine myths, and the presumption is that these creatures, though explained as incarnations and disguises of various gods, were once totems sans phrase, as will be inferred from various examples. clemens alexandrinus, again, after describing the animal-worship of the egyptians, mentions cases of zoolatry in greece.( ) the thessalians revered storks, the thebans weasels, and the myth ran that the weasel had in some way aided alcmena when in labour with heracles. in another form of the myth the weasel was the foster-mother of the hero.( ) other thessalians, the myrmidons, claimed descent from the ant and revered ants. the religious respect paid to mice in the temple of apollo smintheus, in the troad, rhodes, gela, lesbos and crete is well known, and a local tribe were alluded to as mice by an oracle. the god himself, like the japanese harvest-god, was represented in art with a mouse at his foot, and mice, as has been said, were fed at his shrine.( ) the syrians, says clemens alexandrinus, worship doves and fishes, as the elians worship zeus.( ) the people of delphi adored the wolf,( ) and the samians the sheep. the athenians had a hero whom they worshipped in the shape of a wolf.( ) a remarkable testimony is that of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius, ii. . "the wolf," he says, "was a beast held in honour by the athenians, and whosoever slays a wolf collects what is needful for its burial." the burial of sacred animals in egypt is familiar. an arab tribe mourns over and solemnly buries all dead gazelles.( ) nay, flies were adored with the sacrifice of an ox near the temple of apollo in leucas.( ) pausanias (iii. ) mentions certain colonists who were guided by a hare to a site where the animal hid in a myrtle-bush. they therefore adore the myrtle, (greek text omitted). in the same way a carian stock, the ioxidae, revered the asparagus.( ) a remarkable example of descent mythically claimed from one of the lower animals is noted by otfried muller.( ) speaking of the swan of apollo, he says, "that deity was worshipped, according to the testimony of the iliad, in the trojan island of tenedos. there, too, was tennes honoured as the (greek text omitted) of the island. now his father was called cycnus (the swan) in an oft-told and romantic legend.( )... the swan, therefore, as father to the chief hero on the apolline island, stands in distinct relation to the god, who is made to come forward still more prominently from the fact that apollo himself is also called father of tennes. i think we can scarcely fail to recognise a mythus which was local at tenedos.... the fact, too, of calling the swan, instead of apollo, the father of a hero, demands altogether a simplicity and boldness of fancy which are far more ancient than the poems of homer." ( ) op. cit., i. . ( ) scholiast on iliad, xix. . ( ) aelian, h. a., xii. ; strabo, xiii. . compare "apollo and the mouse, custom and myth, pp. - . ( ) lucian, de dea syria. ( ) aelian, h. a., xii. . ( ) harpocration, (greek text omitted). compare an address to the wolf-hero, "who delights in the flight and tears of men," in aristophanes, vespae, . ( ) robertson smith, kinship in early arabia, pp. - . ( ) aelian, xi. . ( ) plutarch, theseus, . ( ) proleg., engl. trans., p. . ( ) (canne on conon, .) had muller known that this "simplicity and boldness of fancy" exist to-day, for example, among the swan tribe of australia, he would probably have recognised in cycnus a survival from totemism. the fancy survives again in virgil's cupavo, "with swan's plumes rising from his crest, the mark of his father's form".( ) descent was claimed, not only from a swan apollo, but from a dog apollo. ( ) aeneid, x. . in connection with the same set of ideas, it is pointed out that several (greek text omitted), or stocks, had eponymous heroes, in whose names the names of the ancestral beast apparently survived. in attica the crioeis have their hero (crio, "ram"), the butadae have butas ("bullman"), the aegidae have aegeus ("goat"), and the cynadae, cynus ("dog"). lycus, according to harpocration (s. v.) has his statue in the shape of a wolf in the lyceum. "the general facts that certain animals might not be sacrificed to certain gods" (at athens the aegidae introduced athena, to whom no goat might be offered on the acropolis, while she herself wore the goat skin, aegis), "while, on the other hand, each deity demanded particular victims, explained by the ancients themselves in certain cases to be hostile animals, find their natural explanation" in totemism.( ) mr. evelyn abbott points out, however, that the names aegeus, aegae, aegina, and others, may be connected with the goat only by an old volks-etymologie, as on coins of aegina in achaea. the real meaning of the words may be different. compare (greek text omitted), the sea-shore. mr. j. g. frazer does not, at present, regard totemism as proved in the case of greece.( ) ( ) some apparent survivals of totemism in ritual will be found in the chapter on greek gods, especially zeus, dionysus, and apollo. ( ) see his golden bough, an alternative explanation of these animals in connection with "the corn spirit". as final examples of survivals from the age of barbarism in the religion of greece, certain features in the mysteries may be noted. plutarch speaks of "the eating of raw flesh, and tearing to pieces of victims, as also fastings and beatings of the breast, and again in many places abusive language at the sacrifices, and other mad doings". the mysteries of demeter, as will appear when her legend is criticised, contained one element all unlike these "mad doings"; and the evidence of sophocles, pindar, plutarch and others demonstrate that religious consolations were somehow conveyed in the eleusinia. but greece had many other local mysteries, and in several of these it is undeniable the greeks acted much as contemporary australians, zunis and negroes act in their secret initiations which, however, also inculcate moral ideas of considerable excellence. important as these analogies are, they appear to have escaped the notice of most mythologists. m. alfred maury, however, in les religions de la grece, published in , offers several instances of hidden rites, common to hellas and to barbarism. there seem in the mysteries of savage races to be two chief purposes. there is the intention of giving to the initiated a certain sacred character, which puts them in close relation with gods or demons, and there is the introduction of the young to complete or advancing manhood, and to full participation in the savage church with its ethical ideas. the latter ceremonies correspond, in short, to confirmation, and they are usually of a severe character, being meant to test by fasting (as plutarch says) and by torture (as in the familiar spartan rite) the courage and constancy of the young braves. the greek mysteries best known to us are the thesmophoria and the eleusinia. in the former the rites (as will appear later) partook of the nature of savage "medicine" or magic, and were mainly intended to secure fertility in husbandry and in the family. in the eleusinia the purpose was the purification of the initiated, secured by ablutions and by standing on the "ram's-skin of zeus," and after purifications the mystae engaged in sacred dances, and were permitted to view a miracle play representing the sorrows and consolations of demeter. there was a higher element, necessarily obscure in nature. the chief features in the whole were purifications, dancing, sacrifice and the representation of the miracle play. it would be tedious to offer an exhaustive account of savage rites analogous to these mysteries of hellas. let it suffice to display the points where greek found itself in harmony with australian, and american, and african practice. these points are: ( ) mystic dances; ( ) the use of a little instrument, called turndun in australia, whereby a roaring noise is made, and the profane are warned off; ( ) the habit of daubing persons about to be initiated with clay or anything else that is sordid, and of washing this off; apparently by way of showing that old guilt is removed and a new life entered upon; ( ) the performances with serpents may be noticed, while the "mad doings" and "howlings" mentioned by plutarch are familiar to every reader of travels in uncivilised countries; ( ) ethical instruction is communicated. first, as to the mystic dances, lucian observes:( ) "you cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing.... this much all men know, that most people say of the revealers of the mysteries that they 'dance them out'" ((greek text omitted)). clemens of alexandria uses the same term when speaking of his own "appalling revelations".( ) so closely connected are mysteries with dancing among savages, that when mr. orpen asked qing, the bushman hunter, about some doctrines in which qing was not initiated, he said: "only the initiated men of that dance know these things". to "dance" this or that means to be acquainted with this or that myth, which is represented in a dance or ballet d'action( ) ((greek text omitted)). so widely distributed is the practice, that acosta, in an interesting passage, mentions it as familiar to the people of peru before and after the spanish conquest. the text is a valuable instance of survival in religion. when they were converted to christianity the peruvians detected the analogy between our sacrament and their mysteries, and they kept up as much as possible of the old rite in the new ritual. just as the mystae of eleusis practised chastity, abstaining from certain food, and above all from beans, before the great pagan sacrament, so did the indians. "to prepare themselves all the people fasted two days, during which they did neyther company with their wives, nor eate any meate with salt or garlicke, nor drink any chic.... and although the indians now forbeare to sacrifice beasts or other things publikely, which cannot be hidden from the spaniardes, yet doe they still use many ceremonies that have their beginnings from these feasts and auntient superstitions, for at this day do they covertly make their feast of ytu at the daunces of the feast of the sacrament. another feast falleth almost at the same time, whereas the christians observe the solempnitie of the holy sacrament, which doth resemble it in some sort, as in dauncing, singing and representations."( ) the holy "daunces" at seville are under papal disapproval, but are to be kept up, it is said, till the peculiar dresses used in them are worn out. acosta's indians also had "garments which served only for this feast". it is superfluous to multiply examples of the dancing, which is an invariable feature of savage as of greek mysteries. ( ) (greek text omitted), chap. xv. . ( ) ap. euseb., praep. ev., ii, , . ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . ( ) acosta, historie of the indies, book v. chap. xxviii. london, . . the greek and savage use of the turndun, or bribbun of australia in the mysteries is familiar to students. this fish-shaped flat board of wood is tied to a string, and whirled round, so as to cause a peculiar muffled roar. lobeck quotes from the old scholia on clemens alexandrinus, published by bastius in annotations on st. gregory, the following greek description of the turndun, the "bull-roarer" of english country lads, the gaelic srannam:( ) (greek text omitted)". "the conus was a little slab of wood, tied to a string, and whirled round in the mysteries to make a whirring noise. as the mystic uses of the turndun in australia, new zealand, new mexico and zululand have elsewhere been described at some length (custom and myth, pp. - ), it may be enough to refer the reader to the passage. mr. taylor has since found the instrument used in religious mysteries in west africa, so it has now been tracked almost round the world. that an instrument so rude should be employed by greek and australians on mystic occasions is in itself a remarkable coincidence. unfortunately, lobeck, who published the greek description of the turndun (aglaophamus, ), was unacquainted with the modern ethnological evidence. ( ) pronounced strantham. for this information i am indebted to my friend mr. m'allister, schoolmaster at st. mary's loch. . the custom of plastering the initiated over with clay or filth was common in greek as in barbaric mysteries. greek examples may be given first. demosthenes accuses aeschines of helping his mother in certain mystic rites, aiding her, especially, by bedaubing the initiate with clay and bran.( ) harpocration explains the term used ((greek text omitted)) thus: "daubing the clay and bran on the initiate, to explain which they say that the titans when they attacked dionysus daubed themselves over with chalk, but afterwards, for ritual purposes, clay was used". it may be urged with some force that the mother of aeschines introduced foreign, novel and possibly savage rites. but sophocles, in a fragment of his lost play, the captives, uses the term in the same ritual sense-- (greek text omitted). ( ) de corona, . the idea clearly was that by cleansing away the filth plastered over the body was symbolised the pure and free condition of the initiate. he might now cry in the mystic chant-- (greek text omitted). worse have i fled, better have i found. that this was the significance of the daubing with clay in greek mysteries and the subsequent cleansing seems quite certain. we are led straight to this conclusion by similar rites, in which the purpose of mystically cleansing was openly put forward. thus plutarch, in his essay on superstition, represents the guilty man who would be purified actually rolling in clay, confessing his misdeeds, and then sitting at home purified by the cleansing process ((greek text omitted)).( ) in another rite, the cleansing of blood-guiltiness, a similar process was practised. orestes, after killing his mother, complains that the eumenides do not cease to persecute him, though he has been "purified by blood of swine".( ) apollonius says that the red hand of the murderer was dipped in the blood of swine and then washed.( ) athenaeus describes a similar unpleasant ceremony.( ) the blood of whelps was apparently used also, men being first daubed with it and then washed clean.( ) the word (greek text omitted) is again the appropriate ritual term. such rites plutarch calls (greek text omitted), "filthy purifications".( ) if daubing with dirt is known to have been a feature of greek mysteries, it meets us everywhere among savages. in o-kee-pa, that curiously minute account of the mandan mysteries, catlin writes that a portion of the frame of the initiate was "covered with clay, which the operator took from a wooden bowl, and with his hand plastered unsparingly over". the fifty young men waiting for initiation "were naked and entirely covered with clay of various colours".( ) the custom is mentioned by captain john smith in virginia. mr. winwood reade found it in africa, where, as among the mandans and spartans, cruel torture and flogging accompanied the initiation of young men.( ) in australia the evidence for daubing the initiate is very abundant.( ) in new mexico, the zunis stole mr. cushing's black paint, as considering it even better than clay for religious daubing.( ) ( ) so hermann, op. cit., . ( ) eumenides, . ( ) argonautica, iv. . ( ) ix. . hermann, from whom the latter passages are borrowed, also quotes the evidence of a vase published by feuerbach, lehrbuch, p. , with other authorities. ( ) plutarch, quaest. rom., . ( ) de superstitione, chap. xii. ( ) o-kee-pa, london, , p. . ( ) savage africa, case of mongilomba; pausanias, iii. . ( ) brough smyth, i. . ( ) custma and myth, p. . . another savage rite, the use of serpents in greek mysteries, is attested by clemens alexandrinus and by demosthenes (loc. cit.). clemens says the snakes were caressed in representations of the loves of zeus in serpentine form. the great savage example is that of "the snake-dance of the moquis," who handle rattle-snakes in the mysteries without being harmed.( ) the dance is partly totemistic, partly meant, like the thesmophoria, to secure the fertility of the lands of the moquis of arizonas. the turndum or (greek text omitted) is employed. masks are worn, as in the rites of demeter cidiria in arcadia.( ) ( ) the snake-dance of the moquis. by captain john g. bourke, london, . ( ) pausanias, viii. . . this last point of contact between certain greek and certain savage mysteries is highly important. the argument of lobeck, in his celebrated work aglaophamus, is that the mysteries were of no great moment in religion. had he known the evidence as to savage initiations, he would have been confirmed in his opinion, for many of the singular greek rites are clearly survivals from savagery. but was there no more truly religious survival? pindar is a very ancient witness that things of divine import were revealed. "happy is he who having seen these things goes under the hollow earth. he knows the end of life, and the god-given beginning."( ) sophocles "chimes in," as lobeck says, declaring that the initiate alone live in hades, while other souls endure all evils. crinagoras avers that even in life the initiate live secure, and in death are the happier. isagoras declares that about the end of life and all eternity they have sweet hopes. ( ) fragm., cxvi., h. p. . splendida testimonia, cries lobeck. he tries to minimise the evidence, remarking that isocrates promises the very same rewards to all who live justly and righteously. but why not, if to live justly and righteously was part of the teaching of the mysteries of eleusis? cicero's evidence, almost a translation of the greek passages already cited, lobeck dismisses as purely rhetorical.( ) lobeck's method is rather cavalier. pindar and sophocles meant something of great significance. ( ) de legibus ii. ; aglaophamus, pp. - . now we have acknowledged savage survivals of ugly rites in the greek mysteries. but it is only fair to remember that, in certain of the few savage mysteries of which we know the secret, righteousness of life and a knowledge of good are inculcated. this is the case in australia, and in central africa, where to be "uninitiated" is equivalent to being selfish.( ) thus it seems not improbable that consolatory doctrines were expounded in the eleusinia, and that this kind of sermon or exhortation was no less a survival from savagery than the daubing with clay, and the (greek text omitted), and other wild rites. ( ) making of religion, pp. - , . we have now attempted to establish that in greek law and ritual many savage customs and usages did undeniably survive. we have seen that both philosophical and popular opinion in greece believed in a past age of savagery. in law, in religion, in religious art, in custom, in human sacrifice, in relics of totemism, and in the mysteries, we have seen that the greeks retained plenty of the usages now found among the remotest and most backward races. we have urged against the suggestion of borrowing from egypt or asia that these survivals are constantly found in local and tribal religion and rituals, and that consequently they probably date from that remote prehistoric past when the greeks lived in village settlements. it may still doubtless be urged that all these things are pelasgic, and were the customs of a race settled in hellas before the arrival of the homeric achaeans, and dorians, and argives, who, on this hypothesis, adopted and kept up the old savage pelasgian ways and superstitions. it is impossible to prove or disprove this belief, nor does it affect our argument. we allege that all greek life below the surface was rich in institutions now found among the most barbaric peoples. these institutions, whether borrowed or inherited, would still be part of the legacy left by savages to cultivated peoples. as this legacy is so large in custom and ritual, it is not unfair to argue that portions of it will also be found in myths. it is now time to discuss greek myths of the origin of things, and decide whether they are or are not analogous in ideas to the myths which spring from the wild and ignorant fancy of australians, cahrocs, nootkas and bushmen. chapter x. greek cosmogonic myths. nature of the evidence--traditions of origin of the world and man--homeric, hesiodic and orphic myths--later evidence of historians, dramatists, commentators--the homeric story comparatively pure--the story in hesiod, and its savage analogues--the explanations of the myth of cronus, modern and ancient--the orphic cosmogony--phanes and prajapati--greek myths of the origin of man--their savage analogues. the authorities for greek cosmogonic myth are extremely various in date, character and value. the most ancient texts are the iliad and the poems attributed to hesiod. the iliad, whatever its date, whatever the place of its composition, was intended to please a noble class of warriors. the hesiodic poems, at least the theogony, have clearly a didactic aim, and the intention of presenting a systematic and orderly account of the divine genealogies. to neither would we willingly attribute a date much later than the ninth century of our era, but the question of the dates of all the epic and hesiodic poems, and even of their various parts, is greatly disputed among scholars. yet it is nowhere denied that, however late the present form of some of the poems may be, they contain ideas of extreme antiquity. although the homeric poems are usually considered, on the whole, more ancient than those attributed to hesiod,( ) it is a fact worth remembering that the notions of the origin of things in hesiod are much more savage and (as we hold) much more archaic than the opinions of homer. ( ) grote assigns his theogony to circ. a.d. the thegony was taught to boys in greece, much as the church catechism and bible are taught in england; aeschines in ctesiph., , p. . libanius, years after christ (i. - , iv. ). while hesiod offers a complete theogony or genealogy of deities and heroes, homer gives no more than hints and allusions to the stormy past of the gods. it is clear, however, that his conception of that past differed considerably from the traditions of hesiod. however we explain it, the homeric mythology (though itself repugnant to the philosophers from xenophanes downwards) is much more mild, pure and humane than the mythology either of hesiod or of our other greek authorities. some may imagine that homer retains a clearer and less corrupted memory than hesiod possessed of an original and authentic "divine tradition". others may find in homer's comparative purity a proof of the later date of his epics in their present form, or may even proclaim that homer was a kind of cervantes, who wished to laugh the gods away. there is no conceivable or inconceivable theory about homer that has not its advocates. for ourselves, we hold that the divine genius of homer, though working in an age distant rather than "early," selected instinctively the purer mythical materials, and burned away the coarser dross of antique legend, leaving little but the gold which is comparatively refined. we must remember that it does not follow that any mythical ideas are later than the age of homer because we first meet them in poems of a later date. we have already seen that though the brahmanas are much later in date of compilation than the veda, yet a tradition which we first find in the brahmanas may be older than the time at which the veda was compiled. in the same way, as mr. max muller observes, "we know that certain ideas which we find in later writers do not occur in homer. but it does not follow at all that such ideas are all of later growth or possess a secondary character. one myth may have belonged to one tribe; one god may have had his chief worship in one locality; and our becoming acquainted with these through a later poet does not in the least prove their later origin."( ) ( ) hibbert lectures, pp. , . after homer and hesiod, our most ancient authorities for greek cosmogonic myths are probably the so-called orphic fragments. concerning the dates and the manner of growth of these poems volumes of erudition have been compiled. as homer is silent about orpheus (in spite of the position which the mythical thracian bard acquired as the inventor of letters and magic and the father of the mysteries), it has been usual to regard the orphic ideas as of late introduction. we may agree with grote and lobeck that these ideas and the ascetic "orphic mode of life" first acquired importance in greece about the time of epimenides, or, roughly speaking, between and b.c.( ) that age certainly witnessed a curious growth of superstitious fears and of mystic ceremonies intended to mitigate spiritual terrors. greece was becoming more intimately acquainted with egypt and with asia, and was comparing her own religion with the beliefs and rites of other peoples. the times and the minds of men were being prepared for the clear philosophies that soon "on argive heights divinely sang". just as, when the old world was about to accept christianity, a deluge of oriental and barbaric superstitions swept across men's minds, so immediately before the dawn of greek philosophy there came an irruption of mysticism and of spiritual fears. we may suppose that the orphic poems were collected, edited and probably interpolated, in this dark hour of greece. "to me," says lobeck, "it appears that the verses may be referred to the age of onomacritus, an age curious in the writings of ancient poets, and attracted by the allurements of mystic religions." the style of the surviving fragments is sufficiently pure and epic; the strange unheard of myths are unlike those which the alexandrian poets drew from fountains long lost.( ) but how much in the orphic myths is imported from asia or egypt, how much is the invention of literary forgers like onomacritus, how much should be regarded as the first guesses of the physical poet-philosophers, and how much is truly ancient popular legend recast in literary form, it is impossible with certainty to determine. ( ) lobeck, aglaophamus, i. ; grote, iii. . ( ) aglaophamus, i. . we must not regard a myth as necessarily late or necessarily foreign because we first meet it in an "orphic composition". if the myth be one of the sort which encounter us in every quarter, nay, in every obscure nook of the globe, we may plausibly regard it as ancient. if it bear the distinct marks of being a neo-platonic pastiche, we may reject it without hesitation. on the whole, however, our orphic authorities can never be quoted with much satisfaction. the later sources of evidence for greek myths are not of great use to the student of cosmogonic legend, though invaluable when we come to treat of the established dynasty of gods, the heroes and the "culture-heroes". for these the authorities are the whole range of greek literature, poets, dramatists, philosophers, critics, historians and travellers. we have also the notes and comments of the scholiasts or commentators on the poets and dramatists. sometimes these annotators only darken counsel by their guesses. sometimes perhaps, especially in the scholia on the iliad and odyssey, they furnish us with a precious myth or popular marchen not otherwise recorded. the regular professional mythographi, again, of whom apollodorus ( b.c.) is the type, compiled manuals explanatory of the myths which were alluded to by the poets. the scholiasts and mythographi often retain myths from lost poems and lost plays. finally, from the travellers and historians we occasionally glean examples of the tales ("holy chapters," as mr. grote calls them) which were narrated by priests and temple officials to the pilgrims who visited the sacred shrines. these "chapters" are almost invariably puerile, savage and obscene. they bear the stamp of extreme antiquity, because they never, as a rule, passed through the purifying medium of literature. there were many myths too crude and archaic for the purposes of poetry and of the drama. these were handed down from local priest to local priest, with the inviolability of sacred and immutable tradition. we have already given a reason for assigning a high antiquity to the local temple myths. just as greeks lived in villages before they gathered into towns, so their gods were gods of villages or tribes before they were national deities. the local myths are those of the archaic village state of "culture," more ancient, more savage, than literary narrative. very frequently the local legends were subjected to the process of allegorical interpretation, as men became alive to the monstrosity of their unsophisticated meaning. often they proved too savage for our authorities, who merely remark, "concerning this a certain holy chapter is told," but decline to record the legend. in the same way missionaries, with mistaken delicacy, often refuse to repeat some savage legend with which they are acquainted. the latest sort of testimony as to greek myths must be sought in the writings of the heathen apologists or learned pagan defenders of paganism in the first centuries during christianity, and in the works of their opponents, the fathers of the church. though the fathers certainly do not understate the abominations of paganism, and though the heathen apologists make free use of allegorical (and impossible) interpretations, the evidence of both is often useful and important. the testimony of ancient art, vases, statues, pictures and the descriptions of these where they no longer survive, are also of service and interest. after this brief examination of the sources of our knowledge of greek myth, we may approach the homeric legends of the origin of things and the world's beginning. in homer these matters are only referred to incidentally. he more than once calls oceanus (that is, the fabled stream which flows all round the world, here regarded as a person) "the origin of the gods," "the origin of all things".( ) that ocean is considered a person, and that he is not an allegory for water or the aqueous element, appears from the speech of hera to aphrodite: "i am going to visit the limits of the bountiful earth, and oceanus, father of the gods, and mother tethys, who reared me duly and nurtured me in their halls, when far-seeing zeus imprisoned cronus beneath the earth and the unvintaged sea".( ) homer does not appear to know uranus as the father of cronus, and thus the myth of the mutilation of uranus necessarily does not occur in homer. cronus, the head of the dynasty which preceded that of zeus, is described( ) as the son of rhea, but nothing is said of his father. the passage contains the account which poseidon himself chose to give of the war in heaven: "three brethren are we, and sons of cronus whom rhea bare--zeus and myself, and hades is the third, the ruler of the folk in the underworld. and in three lots were all things divided, and each drew a domain of his own." here zeus is the eldest son of cronus. though lots are drawn at hazard for the property of the father (which we know to have been customary in homer's time), yet throughout the iliad zeus constantly claims the respect and obedience due to him by right of primogeniture.( ) we shall see that hesiod adopts exactly the opposite view. zeus is the youngest child of cronus. his supremacy is an example of jungsten recht, the wide-spread custom which makes the youngest child the heir in chief.( ) but how did the sons of cronus come to have his property in their hands to divide? by right of successful rebellion, when "zeus imprisoned cronus beneath the earth and the unvintaged sea". with cronus in his imprisonment are the titans. that is all that homer cares to tell about the absolute beginning of things and the first dynasty of rulers of olympus. his interest is all in the actual reigning family, that of the cronidae, nor is he fond of reporting their youthful excesses. ( ) iliad, xiv. , , . ( ) in reading what homer and hesiod report about these matters, we must remember that all the forces and phenomena are conceived of by them as persons. in this regard the archaic and savage view of all things as personal and human is preserved. "i maintain," says grote, "moreover, fully the character of these great divine agents as persons, which is the light in which they presented themselves to the homeric or hesiodic audience. uranus, nyx, hypnos and oneiros (heaven, night, sleep and dream) are persons just as much as zeus or apollo. to resolve them into mere allegories is unsafe and unprofitable. we then depart from the point of view of the original hearers without acquiring any consistent or philosophical point of view of our own." this holds good though portions of the hesiodic genealogies are distinctly poetic allegories cast in the mould or the ancient personal theory of things. ( ) iliad, xv. . ( ) the custom by which sons drew lots for equal shares of their dead father's property is described in odyssey, xiv. - . here odysseus, giving a false account of himself, says that he was a cretan, a bastard, and that his half-brothers, born in wedlock, drew lots for their father's inheritance, and did not admit him to the drawing, but gave him a small portion apart. ( ) see elton, origins of english history, pp. - . we now turn from homer's incidental allusions to the ample and systematic narrative of hesiod. as mr. grote says, "men habitually took their information respecting their theogonic antiquities from the hesiodic poems." hesiod was accepted as an authority both by the pious pausanias in the second century of our era--who protested against any attempt to alter stories about the gods--and by moral reformers like plato and xenophanes, who were revolted by the ancient legends,( ) and, indeed, denied their truth. yet, though hesiod represents greek orthodoxy, we have observed that homer (whose epics are probably still more ancient) steadily ignores the more barbarous portions of hesiod's narrative. thus the question arises: are the stories of hesiod's invention, and later than homer, or does homer's genius half-unconsciously purify materials like those which hesiod presents in the crudest form? mr. grote says: "how far these stories are the invention of hesiod himself it is impossible to determine. they bring us down to a cast of fancy more coarse and indelicate than the homeric, and more nearly resemble some of the holy chapters ((greek text omitted)) of the more recent mysteries, such, for example, as the tale of dionysus zagreus. there is evidence in the theogony itself that the author was acquainted with local legends current both at krete and at delphi, for he mentions both the mountain-cave in krete wherein the newly-born zeus was hidden, and the stone near the delphian temple--the identical stone which kronos had swallowed--placed by zeus himself as a sign and marvel to mortal men. both these monuments, which the poet expressly refers to, and had probably seen, imply a whole train of accessory and explanatory local legends, current probably among the priests of krete and delphi." ( ) timaeeus, ; republic, . all these circumstances appear to be good evidence of the great antiquity of the legends recorded by hesiod. in the first place, arguing merely a priori, it is extremely improbable that in the brief interval between the date of the comparatively pure and noble mythology of the iliad and the much ruder theogony of hesiod men invented stories like the mutilation of uranus, and the swallowing of his offspring by cronus. the former legend is almost exactly parallel, as has already been shown, to the myth of papa and rangi in new zealand. the later has its parallels among the savage bushmen and australians. it is highly improbable that men in an age so civilised as that of homer invented myths as hideous as those of the lowest savages. but if we take these myths to be, not new inventions, but the sacred stories of local priesthoods, their antiquity is probably incalculable. the sacred stories, as we know from pausanias, herodotus and from all the writers who touch on the subject of the mysteries, were myths communicated by the priests to the initiated. plato speaks of such myths in the republic, : "if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a very few might hear them in a mystery, and then let them sacrifice, not a common pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim; this would have the effect of very greatly diminishing the number of the hearers". this is an amusing example of a plan for veiling the horrors of myth. the pig was the animal usually offered to demeter, the goddess of the eleusinian mysteries. plato proposes to substitute some "unprocurable" beast, perhaps a giraffe or an elephant. to hesiod, then, we must turn for what is the earliest complete literary form of the greek cosmogonic myth. hesiod begins, like the new zealanders, with "the august race of gods, by earth and wide heaven begotten".( ) so the new zealanders, as we have seen, say, "the heaven which is above us, and the earth which is beneath us, are the progenitors of men and the origin of all things". hesiod( ) somewhat differs from this view by making chaos absolutely first of all things, followed by "wide-bosomed earth," tartarus and eros (love). chaos unaided produced erebus and night; the children of night and erebus are aether and day. earth produced heaven, who then became her own lover, and to heaven she bore oceanus, and the titans, coeeus and crius, hyperion and iapetus, thea and rhea, themis, mnemosyne, phoebe, tethys, "and youngest after these was born cronus of crooked counsel, the most dreadful of her children, who ever detested his puissant sire," heaven. there were other sons of earth and heaven peculiarly hateful to their father,( ) and these uranus used to hide from the light in a hollow of gaea. both they and gaea resented this treatment, and the titans, like "the children of heaven and earth," in the new zealand poem, "sought to discern the difference between light and darkness". gaea (unlike earth in the new zealand myth, for there she is purely passive), conspired with her children, produced iron, and asked her sons to avenge their wrongs.( ) fear fell upon all of them save cronus, who (like tane mahuta in the maori poem) determined to end the embraces of earth and heaven. but while the new zealand, like the indo-aryan myth,( ) conceives of earth and heaven as two beings who have never previously been sundered at all, hesiod makes heaven amorously approach his spouse from a distance. this was the moment for cronus,( ) who stretched out his hand armed with the sickle of iron, and mutilated uranus. as in so many savage myths, the blood of the wounded god fallen on the ground produced strange creatures, nymphs of the ash-tree, giants and furies. as in the maori myth, one of the children of heaven stood apart and did not consent to the deed. this was oceanus in greece,( ) and in new zealand it was tawhiri matea, the wind, "who arose and followed his father, heaven, and remained with him in the open spaces of the sky". uranus now predicted( ) that there would come a day of vengeance for the evil deed of cronus, and so ends the dynasty of uranus. ( ) theog., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) muir, v. , quoting aitareya brahmana, iv. : "these two worlds were once joined; subsequently they separated". ( ) theog., - . ( ) apollod., i, . ( ) theog., . this story was one of the great stumbling-blocks of orthodox greece. it was the tale that plato said should be told, if at all, only to a few in a mystery, after the sacrifice of some rare and scarcely obtainable animal. even among the maoris, the conduct of the children who severed their father and mother is regarded as a singular instance of iniquity, and is told to children as a moral warning, an example to be condemned. in greece, on the other hand, unless we are to take the euthyphro as wholly ironical, some of the pious justified their conduct by the example of zeus. euthyphro quotes this example when he is about to prosecute his own father, for which act, he says, "men are angry with me; so inconsistently do they talk when i am concerned and when the gods are concerned".( ) but in greek the tale has no meaning. it has been allegorised in various ways, and lafitau fancied that it was a distorted form of the biblical account of the origin of sin. in maori the legend is perfectly intelligible. heaven and earth were conceived of (like everything else), as beings with human parts and passions, linked in an endless embrace which crushed and darkened their children. it became necessary to separate them, and this feat was achieved not without pain. "then wailed the heaven, and exclaimed the earth, 'wherefore this murder? why this great sin? why separate us?' but what cared tane? upwards he sent one and downwards the other. he cruelly severed the sinews which united heaven and earth."( ) the greek myth too, contemplated earth and heaven as beings corporeally united, and heaven as a malignant power that concealed his children in darkness. ( ) euthyphro, . ( ) taylor, new zealand, . but while the conception of heaven and earth as parents of living things remains perfectly intelligible in one sense, the vivid personification which regarded them as creatures with human parts and passions had ceased to be intelligible in greece before the times of the earliest philosophers. the old physical conception of the pair became a metaphor, and the account of their rending asunder by their children lost all significance, and seemed to be an abominable and unintelligible myth. when examined in the light of the new zealand story, and of the fact that early peoples do regard all phenomena as human beings, with physical attributes like those of men, the legend of cronus, and uranus, and gaea ceases to be a mystery. it is, at bottom, a savage explanation (as in the samoan story) of the separation of earth and heaven, an explanation which could only have occurred to people in a state of mind which civilisation has forgotten. the next generation of hesiodic gods (if gods we are to call the members of this race of non-natural men) was not more fortunate than the first in its family relations. cronus wedded his sister, rhea, and begat demeter, hera, hades, poseidon, and the youngest, zeus. "and mighty cronus swallowed down each of them, each that came to their mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent that none other of the proud sons of heaven should hold his kingly sway among the immortals. heaven and earth had warned him that he too should fall through his children. wherefore he kept no vain watch, but spied and swallowed down each of his offspring, while grief immitigable took possession of rhea."( ) rhea, being about to become the mother of zeus, took counsel with uranus and gaea. by their advice she went to crete, where zeus was born, and, in place of the child, she presented to cronus a huge stone swathed in swaddling bands. this he swallowed, and was easy in his mind. zeus grew up, and by some means, suggested by gaea, compelled zeus to disgorge all his offspring. "and he vomited out the stone first, as he had swallowed it last."( ) the swallowed children emerged alive, and zeus fixed the stone at pytho (delphi), where pausanias( ) had the privilege of seeing it, and where, as it did not tempt the cupidity of barbarous invaders, it probably still exists. it was not a large stone, pausanias says, and the delphians used to pour oil over it, as jacob did( ) to the stone at bethel, and on feast-days they covered it with wraps of wool. the custom of smearing fetish-stones (which theophrastus mentions as one of the practices of the superstitious man) is clearly a survival from the savage stage of religion. as a rule, however, among savages, fetish-stones are daubed with red paint (like the face of the wooden ancient dionysi in greece, and of tsui goab among the hottentots), not smeared with oil.( ) ( ) theog., , . ( ) theog., . ( ) x. . ( ) gen. xxviii. . ( ) pausanias, ii. , . "churinga" in australia are greased with the natural moisture of the palm of the hand, and rubbed with red ochre.--spencer and gillen. they are "sacred things," but not exactly fetishes. the myth of the swallowing and disgorging of his own children by cronus was another of the stumbling-blocks of greek orthodoxy. the common explanation, that time ((greek text omitted)) does swallow his children, the days, is not quite satisfactory. time brings never the past back again, as cronus did. besides, the myth of the swallowing is not confined to cronus. modern philology has given, as usual, different analyses of the meaning of the name of the god. hermann, with preller, derives it from (greek text omitted), to fulfil. the harvest-month, says preller, was named cronion in greece, and cronia was the title of the harvest-festival. the sickle of cronus is thus brought into connection with the sickle of the harvester.( ) ( ) preller, gr. myth., i. ; hartung, ii. ; porphyry, abst., ii. . welcker will not hear of this etymology, gr. gott., i. , note . the second myth, in which cronus swallows his children, has numerous parallels in savage legend. bushmen tell of kwai hemm, the devourer, who swallows that great god, the mantis insect, and disgorges him alive with all the other persons and animals whom he has engulphed in the course of a long and voracious career.( ) the moon in australia, while he lived on earth, was very greedy, and swallowed the eagle-god, whom he had to disgorge. mr. im thurn found similar tales among the indians of guiana. the swallowing and disgorging of heracles by the monster that was to slay hesione is well known. scotch peasants tell of the same feats, but localise the myth on the banks of the ken in galloway. basutos, eskimos, zulus and european fairy tales all possess this incident, the swallowing of many persons by a being from whose maw they return alive and in good case. ( ) bleek, bushman folk-lore, pp. , . a mythical conception which prevails from greenland to south africa, from delphi to the solomon islands, from brittany to the shores of lake superior, must have some foundation in the common elements of human nature.( ) now it seems highly probable that this curious idea may have been originally invented in an attempt to explain natural phenomena by a nature-myth. it has already been shown (chapter v.) that eclipses are interpreted, even by the peasantry of advanced races, as the swallowing of the moon by a beast or a monster. the piutes account for the disappearance of the stars in the daytime by the hypothesis that the "sun swallows his children". in the melanesian myth, dawn is cut out of the body of night by qat, armed with a knife of red obsidian. here are examples( ) of transparent nature-myths in which this idea occurs for obvious explanatory purposes, and in accordance with the laws of the savage imagination. thus the conception of the swallowing and disgorging being may very well have arisen out of a nature-myth. but why is the notion attached to the legend of cronus? ( ) the myth of cronus and the swallowed children and the stone is transferred to gargantua. see sebillot, gargantua dans les traditions populaires. but it is impossible to be certain that this is not an example of direct borrowing by madame de cerny in her saint suliac, p. . ( ) compare tylor, prim. cult., i. . that is precisely the question about which mythologists differ, as has been shown, and perhaps it is better to offer no explanation. however stories arise--and this story probably arose from a nature-myth--it is certain that they wander about the world, that they change masters, and thus a legend which is told of a princess with an impossible name in zululand is told of the mother of charlemagne in france. the tale of the swallowing may have been attributed to cronus, as a great truculent deity, though it has no particular elemental signification in connection with his legend. this peculiarly savage trick of swallowing each other became an inherited habit in the family of cronus. when zeus reached years of discretion, he married metis, and this lady, according to the scholiast on hesiod, had the power of transforming herself into any shape she pleased. when she was about to be a mother, zeus induced her to assume the shape of a fly and instantly swallowed her.( ) in behaving thus, zeus acted on the advice of uranus and gaea. it was feared that metis would produce a child more powerful than his father. zeus avoided this peril by swallowing his wife, and himself gave birth to athene. the notion of swallowing a hostile person, who has been changed by magic into a conveniently small bulk, is very common. it occurs in the story of taliesin.( ) caridwen, in the shape of a hen, swallows gwion bach, in the form of a grain of wheat. in the same manner the princess in the arabian nights swallowed the geni. here then we have in the hesiodic myth an old marchen pressed into the service of the higher mythology. the apprehension which zeus (like herod and king arthur) always felt lest an unborn child should overthrow him, was also familiar to indra; but, instead of swallowing the mother and concealing her in his own body, like zeus, indra entered the mother's body, and himself was born instead of the dreaded child.( ) a cow on this occasion was born along with indra. this adventure of the (greek text omitted) or swallowing of metis was explained by the late platonists as a platonic allegory. probably the people who originated the tale were not platonists, any more than pandarus was all aristotelian. ( ) hesiod, theogonia, . see scholiast and note in aglaophamus, i. . compare puss in boots and the ogre. ( ) mabinogion, p. . ( ) black yajur veda, quoted by sayana. after homer and hesiod, the oldest literary authorities for greek cosmogonic myths are the poems attributed to orpheus. about their probable date, as has been said, little is known. they have reached us only in fragments, but seem to contain the first guesses of a philosophy not yet disengaged from mythical conditions. the poet preserves, indeed, some extremely rude touches of early imagination, while at the same time one of the noblest and boldest expressions of pantheistic thought is attributed to him. from the same source are drawn ideas as pure as those of the philosophical vedic hymn,( ) and as wild as those of the vedic purusha sukta, or legend of the fashioning of the world out of the mangled limbs of purusha. the authors of the orphic cosmogony appear to have begun with some remarks on time ((greek text omitted)). "time was when as yet this world was not."( ) time, regarded in the mythical fashion as a person, generated chaos and aether. the orphic poet styles chaos (greek text omitted), "the monstrous gulph," or "gap". this term curiously reminds one of ginnunga-gap in the scandinavian cosmogonic legends. "ginnunga-gap was light as windless air," and therein the blast of heat met the cold rime, whence ymir was generated, the purusha of northern fable.( ) these ideas correspond well with the orphic conception of primitive space.( ) ( ) rig-veda, x. . ( ) lobeck, aglaophamus, i. . see also the quotations from proclus. ( ) gylfi's mocking. ( ) aglaophamus, p. . in process of time chaos produced an egg, shining and silver white. it is absurd to inquire, according to lobeck, whether the poet borrowed this widely spread notion of a cosmic egg from phoenicia, babylon, egypt (where the goose-god seb laid the egg), or whether the orphic singer originated so obvious an idea. quaerere ludicrum est. the conception may have been borrowed, but manifestly it is one of the earliest hypotheses that occur to the rude imagination. we have now three primitive generations, time, chaos, the egg, and in the fourth generation the egg gave birth to phanes, the great hero of the orphic cosmogony.( ) the earliest and rudest thinkers were puzzled, as many savage cosmogonic myths have demonstrated, to account for the origin of life. the myths frequently hit on the theory of a hermaphroditic being, both male and female, who produces another being out of himself. prajapati in the indian stories, and hrimthursar in scandinavian legend--"one of his feet got a son on the other"--with lox in the algonquin tale are examples of these double-sexed personages. in the orphic poem, phanes is both male and female. this phanes held within him "the seed of all the gods,"( ) and his name is confused with the names of metis and ericapaeus in a kind of trinity. all this part of the orphic doctrine is greatly obscured by the allegorical and theosophistic interpretations of the late platonists long after our era, who, as usual, insisted on finding their own trinitarian ideas, commenta frigidissima, concealed under the mythical narrative.( ) ( ) clemens alexan., p. . ( ) damascius, ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) aglaoph., i. . another description by hieronymus of the first being, the orphic phanes, "as a serpent with bull's and lion's heads, with a human face in the middle and wings on the shoulders," is sufficiently rude and senseless. but these physical attributes could easily be explained away as types of anything the platonist pleased.( ) the orphic phanes, too, was almost as many-headed as a giant in a fairy tale, or as purusha in the rig-veda. he had a ram's head, a bull's head, a snake's head and a lion's head, and glanced around with four eyes, presumably human.( ) this remarkable being was also provided with golden wings. the nature of the physical arrangements by which phanes became capable of originating life in the world is described in a style so savage and crude that the reader must be referred to suidas for the original text.( ) the tale is worthy of the swift-like fancy of the australian narrinyeri. ( ) damascius, , ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) hermias in phaedr. ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) suidas s. v. phanes. nothing can be easier or more delusive than to explain all this wild part of the orphic cosmogony as an allegorical veil of any modern ideas we choose to select. but why the "allegory" should closely imitate the rough guesses of uncivilised peoples, ahts, diggers, zunis, cahrocs, it is less easy to explain. we can readily imagine african or american tribes who were accustomed to revere bulls, rams, snakes, and so forth, ascribing the heads of all their various animal patrons to the deity of their confederation. we can easily see how such races as practise the savage rites of puberty should attribute to the first being the special organs of phanes. but on the neo-platonic hypothesis that orpheus was a seer of neo-platonic opinions, we do not see why he should have veiled his ideas under so savage an allegory. this part of the orphic speculation is left in judicious silence by some modern commentators, such as m. darmesteter in les cosmogonies aryennes.( ) indeed, if we choose to regard apollonius rhodius, an alexandrine poet writing in a highly civilised age, as the representative of orphicism, it is easy to mask and pass by the more stern and characteristic fortresses of the orphic divine. the theriomorphic phanes is a much less "aryan" and agreeable object than the glorious golden-winged eros, the love-god of apollonius rhodius and aristophanes.( ) ( ) essais orientaux, p. . ( ) argonautica, - ; aves, . on the whole, the orphic fragments appear to contain survivals of savage myths of the origin of things blended with purer speculations. the savage ideas are finally explained by late philosophers as allegorical veils and vestments of philosophy; but the interpretation is arbitrary, and varies with the taste and fancy of each interpreter. meanwhile the coincidence of the wilder elements with the speculations native to races in the lowest grades of civilisation is undeniable. this opinion is confirmed by the greek myths of the origin of man. these, too, coincide with the various absurd conjectures of savages. in studying the various greek local legends of the origin of man, we encounter the difficulty of separating them from the myths of heroes, which it will be more convenient to treat separately. this difficulty we have already met in our treatment of savage traditions of the beginnings of the race. thus we saw that among the melanesians, qat, and among the ahts, quawteaht, were heroic persons, who made men and most other things. but it was desirable to keep their performances of this sort separate from their other feats, their introduction of fire, for example, and of various arts. in the same way it will be well, in reviewing greek legends, to keep prometheus' share in the making of men apart from the other stories of his exploits as a benefactor of the men whom he made. in hesiod, prometheus is the son of the titan iapetus, and perhaps his chief exploit is to play upon zeus a trick of which we find the parallel in various savage myths. it seems, however, from ovid( ) and other texts, that hesiod somewhere spoke of prometheus as having made men out of clay, like pund-jel in the australian, qat in the melanesian and tiki in the maori myths. the same story is preserved in servius's commentary on virgil.( ) a different legend is preserved in the etymologicum magnum (voc. ikonion). according to this story, after the deluge of deucalion, "zeus bade prometheus and athene make images of men out of clay, and the winds blew into them the breath of life". in confirmation of this legend, pausanias was shown in phocis certain stones of the colour of clay, and "smelling very like human flesh"; and these, according to the phocians, were "the remains of the clay from which the whole human race was fashioned by prometheus".( ) ( ) ovid. metam. i. . ( ) eclogue, vi. . ( ) pausanias, x. , . aristophanes, too, in the birds ( ) talks of men as (greek text omitted), figures kneaded of clay. thus there are sufficient traces in greek tradition of the savage myth that man was made of clay by some superior being, like pund-jel in the quaint australian story. we saw that among various rude races other theories of the origin of man were current. men were thought to have come out of a hole in the ground or a bed of reeds, and sometimes the very scene of their first appearance was still known and pointed out to the curious. this myth was current among races who regarded themselves as the only people whose origin needed explanation. other stories represented man as the fruit of a tree, or the child of a rock or stone, or as the descendant of one of the lower animals. examples of these opinions in greek legend are now to be given. in the first place, we have a fragment of pindar, in which the poet enumerates several of the centres from which different greek tribes believed men to have sprung. "hard it is to find out whether alalkomeneus, first of men, arose on the marsh of cephissus, or whether the curetes of ida first, a stock divine, arose, or if it was the phrygian corybantes that the sun earliest saw--men like trees walking;" and pindar mentions egyptian and libyan legends of the same description.( ) the thebans and the arcadians held themselves to be "earth-born". "the black earth bore pelasgus on the high wooded hills," says an ancient line of asius. the dryopians were an example of a race of men born from ash-trees. the myth of gens virum truncis et duro robore nata, "born of tree-trunk and the heart of oak," had passed into a proverb even in homer's time.( ) lucian mentions( ) the athenian myth "that men grew like cabbages out of the earth". as to greek myths of the descent of families from animals, these will be examined in the discussion of the legend of zeus. ( ) preller, aus. auf., p. . ( ) virgil aen., viii. ; odyssey, xix. ; iliad, ii. xxii. ; juvenal, vi. . cf. also bouche leclerq, de origine generis humani. ( ) philops. iii. chapter xi. savage divine myths. the origin of a belief in god beyond the ken of history and of speculation--sketch of conjectural theories--two elements in all beliefs, whether of backward or civilised races--the mythical and the religious--these may be coeval, or either may be older than the other--difficulty of study--the current anthropological theory--stated objections to the theory--gods and spirits--suggestion that savage religion is borrowed from europeans--reply to mr. tylor's arguments on this head--the morality of savages. "the question of the origin of a belief in deity does not come within the scope of a strictly historical inquiry. no man can watch the idea of god in the making or in the beginning. we are acquainted with no race whose beginning does not lie far back in the unpenetrated past. even on the hypothesis that the natives of australia, for example, were discovered in a state of culture more backward than that of other known races, yet the institutions and ideas of the australians must have required for their development an incalculable series of centuries. the notions of man about the deity, man's religious sentiments and his mythical narratives, must be taken as we find them. there have been, and are, many theories as to the origin of the conception of a supernatural being or beings, concerned with the fortunes of mankind, and once active in the making of the earth and its inhabitants. there is the hypothesis of an original divine tradition, darkened by the smoke of foolish mortal fancies. there is the hypothesis of an innate and intuitive sensus numinis. there is the opinion that the notion of deity was introduced to man by the very nature of his knowledge and perceptions, which compel him in all things to recognise a finite and an infinite. there is the hypothesis that gods were originally ghosts, the magnified shapes of ancestral spectres. there is the doctrine that man, seeking in his early speculations for the causes of things, and conscious of his own powers as an active cause, projected his own shadow on the mists of the unknown, and peopled the void with figures of magnified non-natural men, his own parents and protectors, and the makers of many of the things in the world. "since the actual truth cannot be determined by observation and experiment, the question as to the first germs of the divine conception must here be left unanswered. but it is possible to disengage and examine apart the two chief elements in the earliest as in the latest ideas of godhead. among the lowest and most backward, as among the most advanced races, there coexist the mythical and the religious elements in belief. the rational factor (or what approves itself to us as the rational factor) is visible in religion; the irrational is prominent in myth. the australian, the bushman, the solomon islander, in hours of danger and necessity 'yearns after the gods,' and has present in his heart the idea of a father and friend. this is the religious element. the same man, when he comes to indulge his fancy for fiction, will degrade this spiritual friend and father to the level of the beasts, and will make him the hero of comic or repulsive adventures. this is the mythical or irrational element. religion, in its moral aspect, always traces back to the belief in a power that is benign and works for righteousness. myth, even in homer or the rig-veda, perpetually falls back on the old stock of absurd and immoral divine adventures.( ) ( ) m. knappert here, in a note to the dutch translation, denies the lowest mythical element to the hebrews, as their documents have reached us. "it would be rash, in the present state of knowledge, to pronounce that the germ of the serious homeric sense of the justice and power of the divinity is earlier or later than the germ of the homeric stories of gods disguised as animals, or imprisoned by mortals, or kicked out of olympus. the rational and irrational aspects of mythology and religion may be of coeval antiquity for all that is certainly known, or either of them, in the dark backward of mortal experience, may have preceded the other. there is probably no religion nor mythology which does not offer both aspects to the student. but it is the part of advancing civilisation to adorn and purify the rational element, and to subordinate and supersede the irrational element, as far as religious conservatism, ritual and priestly dogma will permit." such were the general remarks with which this chapter opened in the original edition of the present work. but reading, reflection and certain additions to the author's knowledge of facts, have made it seem advisable to state, more fully and forcibly than before, that, in his opinion, not only the puzzling element of myth, but the purer element of a religious belief sanctioning morality is derived by civilised people from a remote past of savagery. it is also necessary to draw attention to a singular religious phenomena, a break, or "fault," as geologists call it, in the religious strata. while the most backward savages, in certain cases, present the conception of a being who sanctions ethics, and while that conception recurs at a given stage of civilisation, it appears to fade, or even to disappear in some conditions of barbarism. among some barbaric peoples, such as the zulus, and the red indians of french canada when first observed, as among some polynesians and some tribes of western and central africa little trace of a supreme being is found, except a name, and that name is even occasionally a matter of ridicule. the highest religious conception has been reached, and is generally known, yet the being conceived of as creative is utterly neglected, while ghosts, or minor gods, are served and adored. to this religious phenomenon (if correctly observed) we must attempt to assign a cause. for this purpose it is necessary to state again what may be called the current or popular anthropological theory of the evolution of gods. that theory takes varying shapes. in the philosophy of mr. herbert spencer we find a pure euhemerism. gods are but ghosts of dead men, raised to a higher and finally to the highest power. in the somewhat analogous but not identical system of mr. tylor, man first attains to the idea of spirit by reflection on various physical, psychological and psychical experiences, such as sleep, dreams, trances, shadows, hallucinations, breath and death, and he gradually extends the conception of soul or ghost till all nature is peopled with spirits. of these spirits one is finally promoted to supremacy, where the conception of a supreme being occurs. in the lowest faiths there is said, on this theory, to be no connection, or very little connection, between religion and morality. to supply a religious sanction of morals is the work of advancing thought.( ) ( ) prim. cult., ii. . huxley's science and hebrew tradition, pp. , . this current hypothesis is, confessedly, "animistic," in mr. tylor's phrase, or, in mr. spencer's terminology, it is "the ghost theory". the human soul, says mr. tylor, has been the model on which all man's ideas of spiritual beings, from "the tiniest elf" to "the heavenly creator and ruler of the world, the great spirit," have been framed.( ) thus it has been necessary for mr. tylor and for mr. spencer to discover first an origin of man's idea of his own soul, and that supposed origin in psychological, physical and psychical experiences is no doubt adequate. by reflection on these facts, probably, the idea of spirit was reached, though the psychical experiences enumerated by mr. tylor may contain points as yet unexplained by materialism. from these sources are derived all really "animistic" gods, all that from the first partake of the nature of hungry ghosts, placated by sacrifices of food, though in certain cases that hunger may have been transferred, we surmise, by worshippers to gods not originally animistic. ( ) prim. cult., ii. in answer to this theory of an animistic or ghostly origin of all gods, it must first be observed that all gods are not necessarily, it would seem, of animistic origin. among certain of the lowest savages, although they believe in ghosts, the animistic conception, the spiritual idea, is not attached to the relatively supreme being of their faith. he is merely a powerful being, unborn, and not subject to death. the purely metaphysical question "was he a ghost?" does not seem always to have been asked. consequently there is no logical reason why man's idea of a maker should not be prior to man's idea that there are such things as souls, ghosts and spirits. therefore the animistic theory is not necessary as material for the "god-idea". we cannot, of course, prove that the "god-idea" was historically prior to the "ghost-idea," for we know no savages who have a god and yet are ignorant of ghosts. but we can show that the idea of god may exist, in germ, without explicitly involving the idea of spirit. thus gods may be prior in evolution to ghosts, and therefore the animistic theory of the origin of gods in ghosts need not necessarily be accepted. in the first place, the original evolution of a god out of a ghost need not be conceded, because in perhaps all known savage theological philosophy the god, the maker and master, is regarded as a being who existed before death entered the world. everywhere, practically speaking, death is looked on as a comparatively late intruder. he came not only after god was active, but after men and beasts had populated the world. scores of myths accounting for this invasion of death have been collected all over the world.( ) thus the relatively supreme being, or beings, of religion are looked on as prior to death, therefore, not as ghosts. they are sometimes expressly distinguished as "original gods" from other gods who are secondary, being souls of chiefs. thus all tongan gods are atua, but all atua are not "original gods".( ) the word atua, according to mr. white, is "a-tu-a". "a" was the name given to the author of the universe, and signifies: "am the unlimited in power," "the conception," "the leader," "the beyond all". "tua" means "beyond that which is most distant," "behind all matter," and "behind every action". clearly these conceptions are not more mythical (indeed a does not seem to occur in the myths), nor are they more involved in ghosts, than the unknown absolute of mr. herbert spencer. yet the word atua denotes gods who are recognised as ghosts of chiefs, no less than it denotes the supreme existence.( ) these ideas are the metaphysical theology of a race considerably above the lowest level. they lend no assistance to a theory that a was, or was evolved out of, a human ghost, and he is not found in maori mythology as far as our knowledge goes. but, among the lowest known savages, the australians, we read that "the creator was a gigantic black, once on earth, now among the stars". this is in gippsland; the deities of the fuegians and the blackfoot indians are also beings, anthropomorphic, unborn and undying, like mangarrah, the creative being of the larrakeah tribe in australia. "a very good man called mangarrah lives in the sky.... he made everything" (blacks excepted). he never dies.( ) the melanesian vui "never were men," were "something different," and "were not ghosts". it is as a being, not as a spirit, that the kurnai deity munganngaur (our father) is described.( ) in short, though europeans often speak of these divine beings of low savages as "spirits," it does not appear that the natives themselves advance here the metaphysical idea of spirit. these gods are just beings, anthropomorphic, or (in myth and fable), very often bestial, "theriomorphic".( ) it is manifest that a divine being envisaged thus need not have been evolved out of the theory of spirits or ghosts, and may even have been prior to the rise of the belief in ghosts. ( ) see modern mythology, "myths of origin of death". ( ) mariner, ii. . ( ) white, ancient history of the maoris, vol. i. p. ; other views in gill's myths of the pacific. i am not committed to mr. white's opinion. ( ) journal anthrop. inst., nov., , p. . ( ) ibid., , p. . ( ) see making of religion, pp. - , for a more copious statement. again, these powerful, or omnipotent divine beings are looked on as guardians of morality, punishers of sin, rewarders of righteousness, both in this world and in a future life, in places where ghosts, though believed in, are not worshipped, nor in receipt of sacrifice, and where, great grandfathers being forgotten, ancestral ghosts can scarcely swell into gods. this occurs among andamanese, fuegians and australians, therefore, among non-ghost-worshipping races, ghosts cannot have developed into deities who are not even necessarily spirits. these gods, again, do not receive sacrifice, and thus lack the note of descent from hungry food-craving ghosts. in australia, indeed, while ghosts are not known to receive any offerings, "the recent custom of providing food for it"--the dead body of a friend--"is derided by the intelligent old aborigines as 'white fellow's gammon'".( ) ( ) dawson, australian aborigines, p. , . the australians possess no chiefs like "vich ian vohr or chingachgook" whose ghosts might be said to swell into supreme moral deities. "headmen" they have, leaders of various degrees of authority, but no vich ian vohr, no semi-sacred representative of the tribe.( ) nor are the ghosts of the headmen known to receive any particular posthumous attention or worship. thus it really seems impossible to show proof that australian gods grew out of australian ghosts, a subject to which we shall return. ( ) howitt, organisation of australian tribes, pp. - . "transactions of royal society of victoria," . some supporters of the current theory therefore fall back on the hypothesis that the australians are sadly degenerate.( ) chiefs, it is argued, or kings, they once had, and the gods are surviving ghosts of these wholly forgotten potentates. to this we reply that we know not the very faintest trace of australian degeneration. sir john lubbock and mr. tylor have correctly argued that the soil of australia has not yet yielded so much as a fragment of native pottery, nor any trace of native metal work, not a vestige of stone buildings occurs, nor of any work beyond the present native level of culture, unless we reckon weirs for fish-catching. "the australian boomerang," writes mr. tylor, "has been claimed as derived from some hypothetical high culture, whereas the transition-stages through which it is connected with the club are to be observed in its own country, while no civilised race possesses the weapon."( ) ( ) see prof. menzie's history of religion, pp. , , where a singular inconsistency has escaped the author. ( ) prim. cult., i. , . therefore the australian, with his boomerang, represents no degeneration but advance on his ancestors, who had not yet developed the boomerang out of the club. if the excessively complex nature of australian rules of prohibited degrees be appealed to as proof of degeneration from the stage in which they were evolved, we reply that civilisation everywhere tends not to complicate but to simplify such rules, as it also notoriously simplifies the forms of language. the australian people, when discovered, were only emerging from palaeolithic culture, while the neighbouring tasmanians were frankly palaeolithic.( ) far from degenerating, the australians show advance when they supersede their beast or other totem by an eponymous human hero.( ) the eponymous hero, however, changed with each generation, so that no one name was fixed as that of tribal father, later perhaps to become a tribal god. we find several tribes in which the children now follow the father's class, and thus paternal kin takes the place of the usual early savage method of reckoning kinship by the mother's side, elsewhere prevalent in australia. in one of these tribes, dwelling between the glenelg and mount napier, headmanship is hereditary, but nothing is said of any worship of the ghosts of chiefs. all this social improvement denotes advance on the usual australian standard.( ) of degeneration (except when produced recently by european vices and diseases) i know no trace in australia. their highest religious conceptions, therefore, are not to be disposed of as survivals of a religion of the ghosts of such chiefs as the australians are not shown ever to have recognised. the "god idea" in australia, or among the andamanese, must have some other source than the ghost-theory. this is all the more obvious because not only are ghosts not worshipped by the australians, but also the divine beings who are alleged to form links between the ghost and the moral god are absent. there are no departmental gods, as of war, peace, the chase, love, and so forth. sun, sky and earth are equally unworshipped. there is nothing in religion between a being, on one hand (with a son or sons), and vague mischievous spirits, boilyas or mrarts, and ghosts (who are not worshipped), on the other hand. the friends of the idea that the god is an ancient evolution from the ghost of such a chief as is not proved to have existed, must apparently believe that the intermediate stages in religious evolution, departmental gods, nature gods and gods of polytheism in general once existed in australia, and have all been swept away in a deluge of degeneration. that deluge left in religion a moral, potently active father and judge. now that conception is considerably above the obsolescent belief in an otiose god which is usually found among barbaric races of the type from which the australians are said to have degenerated. there is no proof of degeneracy, and, if degeneration has occurred, why has it left just the kind of deity who, in the higher barbaric culture, is not commonly found? clearly this attempt to explain the highest aspect of australian religion by an undemonstrated degeneration is an effort of despair. ( ) tylor, preface to ling roth's aborigines of tasmania, pp. v.-viii. ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, pp. , . while the current theory thus appears to break down over the deities of certain australian tribes and of other low savages to be more particularly described later, it is not more successful in dealing with what we have called the "fault" or break in the religious strata of higher races. the nature of that "fault" may thus be described: while the deities of several low savage peoples are religiously regarded as guardians and judges of conduct both in this life and in the next, among higher barbarians they are often little, or not at all, interested in conduct. again, while among australians, and andamanese, and fuegians, there is hardly a verifiable trace, if any trace there be, of sacrifice to any divine being, among barbarians the gods beneath the very highest are in receipt even of human sacrifice. even among barbarians the highest deity is very rarely worshipped with sacrifice. through various degrees he is found to lose all claim on worship, and even to become a mere name, and finally a jest and a mockery. meanwhile ancestral ghosts, and gods framed on the same lines as ghosts, receive sacrifice of food and of human victims. once more, the high gods of low savages are not localised, not confined to any temple or region. but the gods of higher barbarians (the gods beneath the highest), are localised in this way, as occasionally even the highest god also is. all this shows that, among advancing barbarians, the gods, if they started from the estate of gods among savages on the lowest level, become demoralised, limited, conditioned, relegated to an otiose condition, and finally deposed, till progressive civilisation, as in greece, reinstates or invents purer and more philosophic conceptions, without being able to abolish popular and priestly myth and ritual. here, then, is a flaw or break in the strata of religion. what was the cause of this flaw? we answer, the evolution, through ghosts, of "animistic" gods who retained the hunger and selfishness of these ancestral spirits whom the lowest savages are not known to worship. the moral divine beings of these lowest races, beings (when religiously regarded) unconditioned, in need of no gift that man can give, are not to be won by offerings of food and blood. of such offerings ghosts, and gods modelled on ghosts, are notoriously in need. strengthened and propitiated by blood and sacrifice (not offered to the gods of low savages), the animistic deities will become partisans of their adorers, and will either pay no regard to the morals of their worshippers, or will be easily bribed to forgive sins. here then is, ethically speaking, a flaw in the strata of religion, a flaw found in the creeds of ghost-worshipping barbarians, but not of non-ghost-worshipping savages. a crowd of venal, easy-going, serviceable deities has now been evolved out of ghosts, and animism is on its way to supplant or overlay a rude early form of theism. granting the facts, we fail to see how they are explained by the current theory which makes the highest god the latest in evolution from a ghost. that theory wrecks itself again on the circumstance that, whereas the tribal or national highest divine being, as latest in evolution, ought to be the most potent, he is, in fact, among barbaric races, usually the most disregarded. a new idea, of course, is not necessarily a powerful or fashionable idea. it may be regarded as a "fad," or a heresy, or a low form of dissent. but, when universally known to and accepted by a tribe or people, then it must be deemed likely to possess great influence. but that is not the case; and among barbaric tribes the most advanced conception of deity is the least regarded, the most obsolete. an excellent instance of the difference between the theory here advocated, and that generally held by anthropologists, may be found in mr. abercromby's valuable work, pre-and proto-historic finns, i. - . the gods, and other early ideas, says mr. abercromby, "could in no sense be considered as supernatural". we shall give examples of gods among the races "nearest the beginning," whose attributes of power and knowledge can not, by us at least, be considered other than "supernatural". "the gods" (in this hypothesis) "were so human that they could be forced to act in accordance with the wishes of their worshippers, and could likewise be punished." these ideas, to an australian black, or an andamanese, would seem dangerously blasphemous. these older gods "resided chiefly in trees, wells, rivers and animals". but many gods of our lowest known savages live "beyond the sky". mr. abercromby supposes the sky god to be of later evolution, and to be worshipped after man had exhausted "the helpers that seemed nearest at hand... in the trees and waters at his very door". now the australian black has not a door, nor has he gods of any service to him in the "trees and waters," though sprites may lurk in such places for mischief. but in mr. abercromby's view, some men turned at last to the sky-god, "who in time would gain a large circle of worshippers". he would come to be thought omnipotent, omniscient, the creator. this notion, says mr. abercromby, "must, if this view is correct, be of late origin". but the view is not correct. the far-seeing powerful maker beyond the sky is found among the very backward races who have not developed helpers nearer man, dwelling round what would be his door, if door he was civilised enough to possess. such near neighbouring gods, of human needs, capable of being bullied, or propitiated by sacrifice, are found in races higher than the lowest, who, for their easily procurable aid, have allowed the maker to sink into an otiose god, or a mere name. mr. abercromby unconsciously proves our case by quoting the example of a samoyede. this man knew a sky-god, num; that conception was familiar to him. he also knew a familiar spirit. on mr. abercromby's theory he should have resorted for help to the sky-god, not to the sprite. but he did the reverse: he said, "i cannot approach num, he is too far away; if i could reach him i should not beseech thee (the familiar spirit), but should go myself; but i cannot". for this precise reason, people who have developed the belief in accessible affable spirits go to them, with a spell to constrain, or a gift to bribe, and neglect, in some cases almost forget, their maker. but he is worshipped by low savages, who do not propitiate ghosts and who have no gods in wells and trees, close at hand. it seems an obvious inference that the greater god is the earlier evolved. these are among the difficulties of the current anthropological theory. there is, however, a solution by which the weakness of the divine conception, its neglected, disused aspect among barbaric races, might be explained by anthropologists, without regarding it as an obsolescent form of a very early idea. this solution is therefore in common use. it is applied to the deity revealed in the ancient mysteries of the australians, and it is employed in american and african instances. the custom is to say that the highest divine being of american or african native peoples has been borrowed from europeans, and is, especially, a savage refraction from the god of missionaries. if this can be proved, the shadowy, practically powerless "master of life" of certain barbaric peoples, will have degenerated from the christian conception, because of that conception he will be only a faint unsuccessful refraction. he has been introduced by europeans, it is argued, but is not in harmony with his new environment, and so is "half-remembered and half forgot". the hypothesis of borrowing admits of only one answer, but that answer should be conclusive. if we can discover, say in north america, a single instance in which the supreme being occurs, while yet he cannot possibly be accounted for by any traceable or verifiable foreign influence, then the burden of proof, in other cases, falls on the opponent. when he urges that other north american supreme beings were borrowed, we can reply that our crucial example shows that this need not be the fact. to prove that it is the fact, in his instances, is then his business. it is obvious that for information on this subject we must go to the reports of the earliest travellers who knew the red indians well. we must try to get at gods behind any known missionary efforts. mr. tylor offers us the testimony of heriot, about , that the natives of virginia believed in many gods, also in one chief god, "who first made other principal gods, and then the sun, moon and stars as petty gods".( ) whence could the natives of virginia have borrowed this notion of a creator before ? if it is replied, in the usual way, that they developed him upwards out of sun, moon and star gods, other principal gods, and finally reached the idea of the creator, we answer that the idea of the maker is found where these alleged intermediate stages are not found, as in australia. in virginia then, as in victoria, a creator may have been evolved in some other way than that of gradual ascent from ghosts, and may have been, as in australia and elsewhere, prior to verifiable ghost-worship. again, in virginia at our first settlement, the native priests strenuously resisted the introduction of christianity. they were content with their deity, ahone, "the great god who governs all the world, and makes the sun to shine, creating the moon and stars his companions.... the good and peaceable god... needs not to be sacrificed unto, for he intendeth all good unto them." this good creator, without sacrifice, among a settled agricultural barbaric race sacrificing to other gods and ghosts, manifestly cannot be borrowed from the newly arrived religion of christianity, which his priests, according to the observer, vigorously resisted. ahone had a subordinate deity, magisterial in functions, "looking into all men's actions" and punishing the same, when evil. to this god sacrifices were made, and if his name, okeus, is derived from oki = "spirit," he was, of course, an animistic ghost-evolved deity. anthropological writers, by an oversight, have dwelt on oki, but have not mentioned ahone.( ) manifestly it is not possible to insist that these virginian high deities were borrowed, without saying whence and when they were borrowed by a barbaric race which was, at the same time, rejecting christian teaching. ( ) prim. cult., ii. . ( ) history of travaile into virginia, by william strachey, . mr. tylor writes, with his habitual perspicacity: "it is the widespread belief in the great spirit, whatever his precise nature and origin, that has long and deservedly drawn the attention of european thinkers to the native religions of the north american tribes". now while, in recent times, christian ideas may undeniably have crystallised round "the great spirit," it has come to be thought "that the whole doctrine of the great spirit was borrowed by the savages from missionaries and colonists. but this view will not bear examination," says mr. tylor.( ) ( ) prim. cult, ii. pp. , ( ). for some reason, mr. tylor modifies this passage in . mr. tylor proceeds to prove this by examples from greenland, and the algonkins. he instances the massachusett god, kiehtan, who created the other gods, and receives the just into heaven. this was recorded in , but the belief, says winslow, our authority, goes back into the unknown past. "they never saw kiehtan, but they hold it a great charge and duty that one age teach another." how could a deity thus rooted in a traditional past be borrowed from recent english settlers? in these cases the hypothesis of borrowing breaks down, and still more does it break down over the algonkin deity atahocan. father le jeune, s.j., went first among the algonkins, a missionary pioneer, in , and suffered unspeakable things in his courageous endeavour to win souls in a most recalcitrant flock. he writes ( ): "as this savage has given me occasion to speak of their god, i will remark that it is a great error to think that the savages have no knowledge of any deity. i was surprised to hear this in france. i do not know their secrets, but, from the little which i am about to tell, it will be seen that they have such knowledge. "they say that one exists whom they call atahocan, who made the whole. speaking of god in a wigwam one day, they asked me 'what is god?' i told them that it was he who made all things, heaven and earth. they then began to cry out to each other, 'atahocan! atahocan! it is atahocan!'" there could be no better evidence that atahocan was not (as is often said) "borrowed from the jesuits". the jesuits had only just arrived. later ( ) le jeune interrogated an old man and a partly europeanised sorcerer. they replied that nothing was certain; that atahocan was only spoken of as "of a thing so remote," that assurance was impossible. "in fact, their word nitatohokan means, 'i fable, i tell an old story'." thus atahocan, though at once recognised as identical with the creator of the missionary, was so far from being the latest thing in religious evolution that he had passed into a proverb for the ancient and the fabulous. this, of course, is inconsistent with recent borrowing. he was neglected for khichikouai, spirits which inspire seers, and are of some practical use, receiving rewards in offerings of grease, says le jeune.( ) ( ) relations, , . the obsolescent atahocan seems to have had no moral activity. but, in america, this indolence of god is not universal. mr. parkman indeed writes: "in the primitive indian's conception of a god, the idea of moral good has no part".( ) but this is definitely contradicted by heriot, strachey, winslow, already cited, and by pere le jeune. the good attributes of kiehtan and ahone were not borrowed from christianity, were matter of indian belief before the english arrived. mr. parkman writes: "the moment the indians began to contemplate the object of his faith, and sought to clothe it with attributes, it became finite, and commonly ridiculous". it did so, as usual, in mythology, but not in religion. there is nothing ridiculous in what is known of ahone and kiehtan. if they had a mythology, and if we knew the myths, doubtless they would be ridiculous enough. the savage mind, turned from belief and awe into the spinning of yarns, instantly yields to humorous fancy. as we know, mediaeval popular christianity, in imagery, marchen or tales, and art, copiously illustrates the same mental phenomenon. saints, god, our lord, and the virgin, all play ludicrous and immoral parts in christian folk-tales. this is mythology, and here is, beyond all cavil, a late corruption of religion. here, where we know the history of a creed, religion is early, and these myths are late. other examples of american divine ideas might be given, such as the extraordinary hymns in which the zunis address the eternal, ahonawilona. but as the zuni religion has only been studied in recent years, the hymns would be dismissed as "borrowed," though there is nothing catholic or christian about them. we have preferred to select examples where borrowing from christianity is out of the question. the current anthropological theory is thus confronted with american examples of ideas of the divine which cannot have been borrowed, while, if the gods are said to have been evolved out of ghosts, we reply that, in some cases, they receive no sacrifice, sacrifice being usually a note of ghostly descent. again, similar gods, as we show, exist where ghosts of chiefs are not worshipped, and as far as evidence goes never were worshipped, because there is no evidence of the existence at any time of such chiefs. the american highest gods may then be equally free from the taint of ghostly descent. ( ) parkman, the jesuits in north america. p. lxxviii. there is another more or less moral north american deity whose evolution is rather questionable. pere brebeuf ( ), speaking of the hurons, says that "they have recourse to heaven in almost all their necessities,... and i may say that it is, in fact, god whom they blindly adore, for they imagine that there is an oki, that is, a demon, in heaven, who regulates the seasons, bridles the winds and the waves of the sea, and helps them in every need. they dread his wrath, and appeal to him as witness to the inviolability of their faith, when they make a promise or treaty of peace with enemies. 'heaven hear us to-day' is their form of adjuration."( ) ( ) relations, , pp. , . a spiritual being, whose home is heaven, who rides on the winds, whose wrath is dreaded, who sanctions the oath, is only called "a demon" by the prejudice of the worthy father who, at the same time, admits that the savages have a conception of god--and that god, so conceived, is this demon! the debatable question is, was the "demon," or the actual expanse of sky, first in evolution? that cannot precisely be settled, but in the analogous chinese case of china we find heaven (tien) and "shang-ti, the personal ruling deity," corresponding to the huron "demon". shang-ti, the personal deity, occurs most in the oldest, pre-confucian sacred documents, and, so far, appears to be the earlier conception. the "demon" in huron faith may also be earlier than the religious regard paid to his home, the sky.( ) the unborrowed antiquity of a belief in a divine being, creative and sometimes moral, in north america, is thus demonstrated. so far i had written when i accidentally fell in with mr. tylor's essay on "the limits of savage religion".( ) in that essay, rather to my surprise, mr. tylor argues for the borrowing of "the great spirit," "the great manitou," from the jesuits. now, as to the phrase, "great spirit," the jesuits doubtless caused its promulgation, and, where their teaching penetrated, shreds of their doctrine may have adhered to the indian conception of that divine being. but mr. tylor in his essay does not allude to the early evidence, his own, for oki, atahocan, kiehtan, and torngursak, all undeniably prior to jesuit influence, and found where jesuits, later, did not go. as mr. tylor offers no reason for disregarding evidence in which he had republished in a new edition of primitive culture in , it is impossible to argue against him in this place. he went on, in the essay cited ( ) to contend that the australian god of the kamilaroi of victoria, baiame, is, in name and attributes, of missionary introduction. happily this hypothesis can be refuted, as we show in the following chapter on australian gods. ( ) see tylor, prim. cult., ii. , and making of religion, p. ; also menzies, history of religion, pp. , , and dr. legge's chinese classics, in sacred books of the east, vols. iii., xxvii., xxviii. ( ) journ. of anthrop. inst., vol. xxi., . it would be easy enough to meet the hypothesis of borrowing in the case of the many african tribes who possess something approaching to a rude monotheistic conception. among these are the dinkas of the upper nile, with their neighbours, whose creed russegger compares to that of modern deists in europe. the dinka god, dendid, is omnipotent, but so benevolent that he is not addressed in prayer, nor propitiated by sacrifice. compare the supreme being of the caribs, beneficent, otiose, unadored.( ) a similar deity, veiled in the instruction of the as yet unpenetrated mysteries, exists among the yao of central africa.( ) of the negro race, waitz says, "even if we do not call them monotheists, we may still think of them as standing on the boundary of monotheism despite their innumerable rude superstitions".( ) the tshi speaking people of the gold coast have their unworshipped nyankupon, a now otiose unadored being, with a magisterial deputy, worshipped with many sacrifices. the case is almost an exact parallel to that of ahone and oki in america. these were not borrowed, and the author has argued at length against major ellis's theory of the borrowing from christians of nyankupon.( ) ( ) rochefort, les isles antilles, p. . tylor, ii. . ( ) macdonald, africana, , , , , - . scott, dictionary of the manganja language, making of religion, pp. - . a contradictory view in spencer, ecclesiastical institutions, p. . ( ) anthropologie, ii. . ( ) making of religion, pp. - . to conclude this chapter, the study of savage and barbaric religions seems to yield the following facts:-- . low savages. no regular chiefs. great beings, not in receipt of sacrifice, sanctioning morality. ghosts are not worshipped, though believed in. polytheism, departmental gods and gods of heaven, earth, sky and so forth, have not been developed or are not found. . barbaric races. aristocratic or monarchic. ghosts are worshipped and receive sacrifice. polytheistic gods are in renown and receive sacrifice. there is usually a supreme maker who is, in some cases, moral, in others otiose. in only one or two known cases (as in that of the polynesian taaroa) is he in receipt of sacrifice. . barbaric races. (zulus, monarchic with unkulunkulu; some algonquins (feebly aristocratic) with atahocan). religion is mainly ancestor worship or vague spirit worship; ghosts are propitiated with food. there are traces of an original divine being whose name is becoming obsolescent and a matter of jest. . early civilisations. monarchic or aristocratic. (greece, egypt, india, peru, mexico.) polytheism. one god tends to be supreme. religiously regarded, gods are moral; in myth are the reverse. gods are in receipt of sacrifice. heavenly society is modelled on that of men, monarchic or aristocratic. philosophic thought tends towards belief in one pure god, who may be named zeus, in greece. . the religion of israel. probably a revival and purification of the old conception of a moral, beneficent creator, whose creed had been involved in sacrifice and anthropomorphic myth. in all the stages thus roughly sketched, myths of the lowest sort prevail, except in the records of the last stage, where the documents have been edited by earnest monotheists. if this theory be approximately correct, man's earliest religious ideas may very well have consisted, in a sense, of dependence on a supreme moral being who, when attempts were made by savages to describe the modus of his working, became involved in the fancies of mythology. how this belief in such a being arose we have no evidence to prove. we make no hint at a sensus numinis, or direct revelation. while offering no hypothesis of the origin of belief in a moral creator we may present a suggestion. mr. darwin says about early man: "the same high mental faculties which first led man to believe in unseen spiritual agencies, then in fetichism, polytheism and ultimately monotheism, would infallibly lead him, so long as his reasoning powers remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and customs".( ) now, accepting mr. darwin's theory that early man had "high mental faculties," the conception of a maker of things does not seem beyond his grasp. man himself made plenty of things, and could probably conceive of a being who made the world and the objects in it. "certainly there must be some being who made all these things. he must be very good too," said an eskimo to a missionary.( ) the goodness is inferred by the eskimo from his own contentment with "the things which are made".( ) ( ) darwin, descent of man, i. p. . ( ) cranz, i. . ( ) romans, i. . another example of barbaric man "seeking after god" may be adduced. what the greenlander said is corroborated by what a kaffir said. kaffir religion is mainly animistic, ancestral spirits receive food and sacrifice--there is but an evanescent tradition of a "lord in heaven". thus a very respectable kaffir said to m. arbrousset, "your tidings (christianity) are what i want; and i was seeking before i knew you.... i asked myself sorrowful questions. 'who has touched the stars with his hands?... who makes the waters flow?... who can have given earth the wisdom and power to produce corn?' then i buried my face in my hands." "this," says sir john lubbock, "was, however, an exceptional case. as a general rule savages do not set themselves to think out such questions."( ) ( ) origin of civilisation, p. . as a common fact, if savages never ask the question, at all events, somehow, they have the answer ready made. "mangarrah, or baiame, puluga, or dendid, or ahone, or ahonawilona, or atahocan, or taaroa, or tui laga, was the maker." therefore savages who know that leave the question alone, or add mythical accretions. but their ancestors must have asked the question, like the "very respectable kaffir" before they answered it. having reached the idea of a creator, it was not difficult to add that he was "good," or beneficent, and was deathless. a notion of a good powerful maker, not subject to death because necessarily prior to death (who only invaded the world late), seems easier of attainment than the notion of spirit which, ex hypothesi, demands much delicate psychological study and hard thought. the idea of a good maker, once reached, becomes, perhaps, the germ of future theism, but, as mr. darwin says, the human mind was "infallibly led to various strange superstitions". as st. paul says, in perfect agreement with mr. darwin on this point, "they became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened". among other imaginations (right or wrong) was the belief in spirits, with all that followed in the way of instituting sacrifices, even of human beings, and of dropping morality, about which the ghost of a deceased medicine-man was not likely to be much interested. the supposed nearness to man, and the venal and partial character of worshipped gods and ghost-gods, would inevitably win for them more service and attention than would be paid to a maker remote, unbought and impartial. hence the conception of such a being would tend to obsolescence, as we see that it does, and would be most obscured where ghosts were most propitiated, as among the zulus. later philosophy would attach the spiritual conception to the revived or newly discovered idea of the supreme god. in all this speculation there is nothing mystical; no supernatural or supernormal interference is postulated. supernormal experiences may have helped to originate or support the belief in spirits, that, however, is another question. but this hypothesis of the origin of belief in a good unceasing maker of things is, of course, confessedly a conjecture, for which historical evidence cannot be given, in the nature of the case. all our attempts to discover origins far behind history must be conjectural. their value must be estimated by the extent to which this or that hypothesis colligates the facts. now our hypothesis does colligate the facts. it shows how belief in a moral supreme being might arise before ghosts were worshipped, and it accounts for the flaw in the religious strata, for the mythical accretions, for the otiose creator in the background of many barbaric religions, and for the almost universal absence of sacrifice to the god relatively supreme. he was, from his earliest conception, in no need of gifts from men. on this matter of otiose supreme gods, professor menzies writes, "it is very common to find in savage beliefs a vague far-off god, who is at the back of all the others, takes little part in the management of things, and receives little worship. but it is impossible to judge what that being was at an earlier time; he may have been a nature god, or a spirit who has by degrees grown faint, and come to occupy this position." now the position which he occupies is usually, if not universally, that of the creator. he could not arrive at this rank by "becoming faint," nor could "a nature-god" be the maker of nature. the only way by which we can discover "what that being was at an earlier time" is to see what he is at an earlier time, that is to say, what the conception of him is, among men in an earlier state of culture. among them, as we show, he is very much more near, potent and moral, than among races more advanced in social evolution and material culture. we can form no opinion as to the nature of such "vague, far-off gods, at the back of all the others," till we collect and compare examples, and endeavour to ascertain what points they have in common, and in what points they differ from each other. it then becomes plain that they are least far away, and most potent, where there is least ghostly and polytheistic competition, that is, among the most backward races. the more animism the less theism, is the general rule. manifestly the current hypothesis--that all religion is animistic in origin--does not account for these facts, and is obliged to fly to an undemonstrated theory of degradation, or to an undemonstrated theory of borrowing. that our theory is inconsistent with the general doctrine of evolution we cannot admit, if we are allowed to agree with mr. darwin's statement about the high mental faculties which first led man to sympathetic, and then to wild beliefs. we do not pretend to be more darwinian than mr. darwin, who compares "these miserable and indirect results of our higher faculties" to "the occasional mistakes of the instincts of the lower animals". the opinion here maintained, namely, that a germ of pure belief may be detected amidst the confusion of low savage faith, and that in a still earlier stage it may have been less overlaid with fable, is in direct contradiction to current theories. it is also in contradiction with the opinions entertained by myself before i made an independent examination of the evidence. like others, i was inclined to regard reports of a moral creator, who observes conduct, and judges it even in the next life, as rumours due either to christian influence, or to mistake. i well know, however, and could, and did, discount the sources of error. i was on my guard against the twin fallacies of describing all savage religion as "devil worship," and of expecting to find a primitive "divine tradition". i was also on my guard against the modern bias derived from the "ghost-theory," and mr. spencer's works, and i kept an eye on opportunities of "borrowing".( ) i had, in fact, classified all known idola in the first edition of this work, such as the fallacy of leading questions and the chance of deliberate deception. i sought the earliest evidence, prior to any missionary teaching, and the evidence of what the first missionaries found, in the way of belief, on their arrival. i preferred the testimony of the best educated observers, and of those most familiar with native languages. i sought for evidence in native hymns (maori, zuni, dinka, red indian) and in native ceremonial and mystery, as these sources were least likely to be contaminated. ( ) making of religion, p. . on the other side, i found a vast body of testimony that savages had no religion at all. but that testimony, en masse, was refuted by roskoff, and also, in places, by tylor. when three witnesses were brought to swear that they saw the irishman commit a crime, he offered to bring a dozen witnesses who did not see him. negative evidence of squatters, sailors and colonists, who did not see any religion among this or that race, is not worth much against evidence of trained observers and linguists who did find what the others missed, and who found more the more they knew the tribe in question. again, like others, i thought savages incapable of such relatively pure ideas as i now believe some of them to possess. but i could not resist the evidence, and i abandoned my a priori notions. the evidence forcibly attests gradations in the central belief. it is found in various shades, from relative potency down to a vanishing trace, and it is found in significant proportion to the prevalence of animistic ideas, being weakest where they are most developed, strongest where they are least developed. there must be a reason for these phenomena, and that reason, as it seems to me, is the overlaying and supersession of a rudely theistic by an animistic creed. that one cause would explain, and does colligate, all the facts. there remains a point on which misconception proves to be possible. it will be shown, contrary to the current hypothesis, that the religion of the lowest races, in its highest form, sanctions morality. that morality, again, in certain instances, demands unselfishness. of course we are not claiming for that doctrine any supernatural origin. religion, if it sanctions ethics at all, will sanction those which the conscience accepts, and those ethics, in one way or other, must have been evolved. that the "cosmical" law is "the weakest must go to the wall" is generally conceded. man, however, is found trying to reverse the law, by equal and friendly dealing (at least within what is vaguely called "the tribe"). his religion, as in australia, will be shown to insist on this unselfishness. how did he evolve his ethics? "be it little or be it much they get," says dampier about the australians in , "every one has his part, as well the young and tender as the old and feeble, who are not able to get abroad as the strong and lusty." this conduct reverses the cosmical process, and notoriously civilised society, christian society, does not act on these principles. neither do the savages, who knock the old and feeble on the head, or deliberately leave them to starve, act on these principles, sanctioned by australian religion, but (according to mr. dawson) not carried out in australian practice. "when old people become infirm... it is lawful and customary to kill them."( ) ( ) australian aborigines, p. . as to the point of unselfishness, evolutionists are apt to account for it by common interest. a tribe in which the strongest monopolise what is best will not survive so well as an unselfish tribe in the struggle for existence. but precisely the opposite is true, aristocracy marks the more successful barbaric races, and an aristocratic slave-holding tribe could have swept australia as the zulus swept south africa. that aristocracy and acquisition of separate property are steps in advance on communistic savagery all history declares. therefore a tribe which in australia developed private property, and reduced its neighbours to slavery, would have been better fitted to survive than such a tribe as dampier describes. this is so evident that probably, or possibly, the dampier state of society was not developed in obedience to a recognised tribal interest, but in obedience to an affectionate instinct. "ils s'entr' aiment les une les autres," says brebeuf of the hurons.( ) "i never heard the women complain of being left out of feasts, or that the men ate the best portions... every one does his business sweetly, peaceably, without dispute. you never see disputes, quarrels, hatred, or reproach among them." brebeuf then tells how a young indian stranger, in a time of want, stole the best part of a moose. "they did not rage or curse, they only bantered him, and yet to take our meat was almost to take our lives." brebeuf wanted to lecture the lad; his indian host bade him hold his peace, and the stranger was given hospitality, with his wife and children. "they are very generous, and make it a point not to attach themselves to the goods of this world." "their greatest reproach is 'that man wants everything, he is greedy'. they support, with never a murmur, widows, orphans and old men, yet they kill hopeless or troublesome invalids, and their whole conduct to europeans was the reverse of their domestic behaviour." ( ) relations, , p. . another example of savage unselfish ethics may be found in mr. mann's account of the andaman islanders, a nomad race, very low in culture. "it is a noteworthy trait, and one which deserves high commendation, that every care and consideration are paid by all classes to the very young, the weak, the aged, and the helpless, and these being made special objects of interest and attention, invariably fare better in regard to the comforts and necessaries of daily life than any of the otherwise more fortunate members of the community."( ) ( ) j. a. i., xii. p. . mr. huxley, in his celebrated romanes lecture on "evolution and morality," laid stress on man's contravention of the cosmic law, "the weakest must go to the wall". he did not explain the evolution of man's opposition to this law. the ordinary evolutionist hypothesis, that the tribe would prosper most whose members were least self-seeking, is contradicted by all history. the overbearing, "grabbing," aristocratic, individualistic, unscrupulous races beat the others out of the field. mr. huxley, indeed, alleged that the "influence of the cosmic process in the evolution of society is the greater the more rudimentary its civilisation. social progress means a checking of the cosmic process at every step and the substitution for it of another, which may be called the ethical process.... as civilisation has advanced, so has the extent of this interference increased...."( ) but where, in europe, is the interference so marked as among the andamanese? we have still to face the problem of the generosity of low savages. ( ) ethics of evolution, pp. - . it is conceivable that the higher ethics of low savages rather reflect their emotional instincts than arise from tribal legislation which is supposed to enable a "tribe" to prosper in the struggle for existence. as brebeuf and dampier, among others, prove, savages often set a good example to christians, and their ethics are, in certain cases, as among the andamanese and fuegians, and, probably among the yao, sanctioned by their religion. but, as mr. tylor says, "the better savage social life seems but in unstable equilibrium, liable to be easily upset by a touch of distress, temptation, or violence".( ) still, religion does its best, in certain cases, to lend equilibrium; though all the world over, religion often fails in practice. ( ) prim. cult., i. . transcribed from the longmans, green, and co. edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk modern mythology dedication dedicated to the memory of john fergus mclennan. introduction it may well be doubted whether works of controversy serve any useful purpose. 'on an opponent,' as mr. matthew arnold said, 'one never does make any impression,' though one may hope that controversy sometimes illuminates a topic in the eyes of impartial readers. the pages which follow cannot but seem wandering and desultory, for they are a reply to a book, mr. max muller's contributions to the science of mythology, in which the attack is of a skirmishing character. throughout more than eight hundred pages the learned author keeps up an irregular fire at the ideas and methods of the anthropological school of mythologists. the reply must follow the lines of attack. criticism cannot dictate to an author how he shall write his own book. yet anthropologists and folk-lorists, 'agriologists' and 'hottentotic' students, must regret that mr. max muller did not state their general theory, as he understands it, fully and once for all. adversaries rarely succeed in quite understanding each other; but had mr. max muller made such a statement, we could have cleared up anything in our position which might seem to him obscure. our system is but one aspect of the theory of evolution, or is but the application of that theory to the topic of mythology. the archaeologist studies human life in its material remains; he tracks progress (and occasional degeneration) from the rudely chipped flints in the ancient gravel beds, to the polished stone weapon, and thence to the ages of bronze and iron. he is guided by material 'survivals'--ancient arms, implements, and ornaments. the student of institutions has a similar method. he finds his relics of the uncivilised past in agricultural usages, in archaic methods of allotment of land, in odd marriage customs, things rudimentary--fossil relics, as it were, of an early social and political condition. the archaeologist and the student of institutions compare these relics, material or customary, with the weapons, pottery, implements, or again with the habitual law and usage of existing savage or barbaric races, and demonstrate that our weapons and tools, and our laws and manners, have been slowly evolved out of lower conditions, even out of savage conditions. the anthropological method in mythology is the same. in civilised religion and myth we find rudimentary survivals, fossils of rite and creed, ideas absolutely incongruous with the environing morality, philosophy, and science of greece and india. parallels to these things, so out of keeping with civilisation, we recognise in the creeds and rites of the lower races, even of cannibals; but _there_ the creeds and rites are _not_ incongruous with their environment of knowledge and culture. there they are as natural and inevitable as the flint-headed spear or marriage by capture. we argue, therefore, that religions and mythical faiths and rituals which, among greeks and indians, are inexplicably incongruous have lived on from an age in which they were natural and inevitable, an age of savagery. that is our general position, and it would have been a benefit to us if mr. max muller had stated it in his own luminous way, if he wished to oppose us, and had shown us where and how it fails to meet the requirements of scientific method. in place of doing this once for all, he often assails our evidence, yet never notices the defences of our evidence, which our school has been offering for over a hundred years. he attacks the excesses of which some sweet anthropological enthusiasts have been guilty or may be guilty, such as seeing totems wherever they find beasts in ancient religion, myth, or art. he asks for definitions (as of totemism), but never, i think, alludes to the authoritative definitions by mr. mclennan and mr. frazer. he assails the theory of fetishism as if it stood now where de brosses left it in a purely pioneer work--or, rather, where he understands de brosses to have left it. one might as well attack the atomic theory where lucretius left it, or the theory of evolution where it was left by the elder darwin. thus mr. max muller really never conies to grips with his opponents, and his large volumes shine rather in erudition and style than in method and system. anyone who attempts a reply must necessarily follow mr. max muller up and down, collecting his scattered remarks on this or that point at issue. hence my reply, much against my will, must seem desultory and rambling. but i have endeavoured to answer with some kind of method and system, and i even hope that this little book may be useful as a kind of supplement to mr. max muller's, for it contains exact references to certain works of which he takes the reader's knowledge for granted. the general problem at issue is apt to be lost sight of in this guerilla kind of warfare. it is perhaps more distinctly stated in the preface to mr. max muller's chips from a german workshop, vol. iv. (longmans, ), than in his two recent volumes. the general problem is this: has language--especially language in a state of 'disease,' been the great source of the mythology of the world? or does mythology, on the whole, represent the survival of an old stage of thought--not caused by language--from which civilised men have slowly emancipated themselves? mr. max muller is of the former, anthropologists are of the latter, opinion. both, of course, agree that myths are a product of thought, of a kind of thought almost extinct in civilised races; but mr. max muller holds that language caused that kind of thought. we, on the other hand, think that language only gave it one means of expressing itself. the essence of myth, as of fairy tale, we agree, is the conception of the things in the world as all alike animated, personal, capable of endless interchanges of form. men may become beasts; beasts may change into men; gods may appear as human or bestial; stones, plants, winds, water, may speak and act like human beings, and change shapes with them. anthropologists demonstrate that the belief in this universal kinship, universal personality of things, which we find surviving only in the myths of civilised races, is even now to some degree part of the living creed of savages. civilised myths, then, they urge, are survivals from a parallel state of belief once prevalent among the ancestors of even the aryan race. but how did this mental condition, this early sort of false metaphysics, come into existence? we have no direct historical information on the subject. if i were obliged to offer an hypothesis, it would be that early men, conscious of personality, will, and life--conscious that force, when exerted by themselves, followed on a determination of will within them--extended that explanation to all the exhibitions of force which they beheld without them. rivers run (early man thought), winds blow, fire burns, trees wave, as a result of their own will, the will of personal conscious entities. such vitality, and even power of motion, early man attributed even to inorganic matter, as rocks and stones. all these things were beings, like man himself. this does not appear to me an unnatural kind of nascent, half-conscious metaphysics. 'man never knows how much he anthropomorphises.' he extended the only explanation of his own action which consciousness yielded to him, he extended it to explain every other sort of action in the sensible world. early greek philosophy recognised the stars as living bodies; all things had once seemed living and personal. from the beginning, man was eager causas cognoscere rerum. the only cause about which self-consciousness gave him any knowledge was his own personal will. he therefore supposed all things to be animated with a like will and personality. his mythology is a philosophy of things, stated in stories based on the belief in universal personality. my theory of the origin of that belief is, of course, a mere guess; we have never seen any race in the process of passing from a total lack of a hypothesis of causes into that hypothesis of universally distributed personality which is the basis of mythology. but mr. max muller conceives that this belief in universally distributed personality (the word 'animism' is not very clear) was the result of an historical necessity--not of speculation, but of language. 'roots were all, or nearly all, expressive of action. . . . hence a river could only be called or conceived as a runner, or a roarer, or a defender; and in all these capacities always as something active and animated, nay, as something masculine or feminine.' but _why_ conceived as 'masculine or feminine'? this necessity for endowing inanimate though active things, such as rivers, with sex, is obviously a necessity of a stage of thought wholly unlike our own. _we_ know that active inanimate things are sexless, are neuter; _we_ feel no necessity to speak of them as male or female. how did the first speakers of the human race come to be obliged to call lifeless things by names connoting sex, and therefore connoting, not only activity, but also life and personality? we explain it by the theory that man called lifeless things male or female--by using gender-terminations--as a result of his habit of regarding lifeless things as personal beings; that habit, again, being the result of his consciousness of himself as a living will. mr. max muller takes the opposite view. man did not call lifeless things by names denoting sex because he regarded them as persons; he came to regard them as persons because he had already given them names connoting sex. and why had he done that? this is what mr. max muller does not explain. he says: 'in ancient languages every one of these words' (sky, earth, sea, rain) 'had necessarily' (why necessarily?) 'a termination expressive of gender, and this naturally produced in the mind the corresponding idea of sex, so that these names received not only an individual but a sexual character.' { a} it is curious that, in proof apparently of this, mr. max muller cites a passage from the printer's register, in which we read that to little children '_everything_ is _alive_. . . . the same instinct that prompts the child to personify everything remains unchecked in the savage, and grows up with him to manhood. hence in all simple and early languages there are but two genders, masculine and feminine.' the printer's register states our theory in its own words. first came the childlike and savage belief in universal personality. thence arose the genders, masculine and feminine, in early languages. these ideas are the precise reverse of mr. max muller's ideas. in his opinion, genders in language caused the belief in the universal personality even of inanimate things. the printer's register holds that the belief in universal personality, on the other hand, caused the genders. yet for thirty years, since , mr. max muller has been citing his direct adversary, in the printer's register, as a supporter of his opinion! we, then, hold that man thought all things animated, and expressed his belief in gender-terminations. mr. max muller holds that, because man used gender-terminations, therefore he thought all things animated, and so he became mythopoeic. in the passage cited, mr. max muller does not say _why_ 'in ancient languages every one of these words had _necessarily_ terminations expressive of gender.' he merely quotes the hypothesis of the printer's register. if he accepts that hypothesis, it destroys his own theory--that gender-terminations caused all things to be regarded as personal; for, ex hypothesi, it was just because they were regarded as personal that they received names with gender-terminations. somewhere--i cannot find the reference--mr. max muller seems to admit that personalising thought caused gender-terminations, but these later 'reacted' on thought, an hypothesis which multiplies causes praeter necessitatem. here, then, at the very threshold of the science of mythology we find mr. max muller at once maintaining that a feature of language, gender-terminations, caused the mythopoeic state of thought, and quoting with approval the statement that the mythopoeic state of thought caused gender-terminations. mr. max muller's whole system of mythology is based on reasoning analogous to this example. his mot d'ordre, as professor tiele says, is 'a disease of language.' this theory implies universal human degradation. man was once, for all we know, rational enough; but his mysterious habit of using gender-terminations, and his perpetual misconceptions of the meaning of old words in his own language, reduced him to the irrational and often (as we now say) obscene and revolting absurdities of his myths. here (as is later pointed out) the objection arises, that all languages must have taken the disease in the same way. a maori myth is very like a greek myth. if the greek myth arose from a disease of greek, how did the wholly different maori speech, and a score of others, come to have precisely the same malady? mr. max muller alludes to a maori parallel to the myth of cronos. { b} 'we can only say that there is a rusty lock in new zealand, and a rusty lock in greece, and that, surely, is very small comfort.' he does not take the point. the point is that, as the myth occurs in two remote and absolutely unconnected languages, a theory of disease of language cannot turn the wards of the rusty locks. the myth is, in part at least, a nature-myth--an attempt to account for the severance of heaven and earth (once united) by telling a story in which natural phenomena are animated and personal. a disease of language has nothing to do with this myth. it is cited as a proof against the theory of disease of language. the truth is, that while languages differ, men (and above all early men) have the same kind of thoughts, desires, fancies, habits, institutions. it is not that in which all races formally differ--their language--but that in which all early races are astonishingly the same--their ideas, fancies, habits, desires--that causes the amazing similarity of their myths. mythologists, then, who find in early human nature the living ideas which express themselves in myths will hardily venture to compare the analogous myths of all peoples. mythologists, on the other hand, who find the origin of myths in a necessity imposed upon thought by misunderstood language will necessarily, and logically, compare only myths current among races who speak languages of the same family. thus, throughout mr. max muller's new book we constantly find him protesting, on the whole and as a rule, against the system which illustrates aryan myths by savage parallels. thus he maintains that it is perilous to make comparative use of myths current in languages--say, maori or samoyed--which the mythologists confessedly do not know. to this we can only reply that we use the works of the best accessible authorities, men who do know the languages--say, dr. codrington or bishop callaway, or castren or egede. now it is not maintained that the myths, on the whole, are incorrectly translated. the danger which we incur, it seems, is ignorance of the original sense of savage or barbaric divine or heroic names--say, maui, or yehl, or huitzilopochhtli, or heitsi eibib, or pundjel. by mr. max muller's system such names are old words, of meanings long ago generally lost by the speakers of each language, but analysable by 'true scholars' into their original significance. that will usually be found by the philologists to indicate 'the inevitable dawn,' or sun, or night, or the like, according to the taste and fancy of the student. to all this a reply is urged in the following pages. in agreement with curtius and many other scholars, we very sincerely doubt almost all etymologies of old proper names, even in greek or sanskrit. we find among philologists, as a rule, the widest discrepancies of interpretation. moreover, every name must mean _something_. now, whatever the meaning of a name (supposing it to be really ascertained), very little ingenuity is needed to make it indicate one or other aspect of dawn or night, of lightning or storm, just as the philologist pleases. then he explains the divine or heroic being denoted by the name--as dawn or storm, or fire or night, or twilight or wind--in accordance with his private taste, easily accommodating the facts of the myth, whatever they may be, to his favourite solution. we rebel against this kind of logic, and persist in studying the myth in itself and in comparison with analogous myths in every accessible language. certainly, if divine and heroic names--artemis or pundjel--_can_ be interpreted, so much is gained. but the myth may be older than the name. as mr. hogarth points out, alexander has inherited in the remote east the myths of early legendary heroes. we cannot explain these by the analysis of the name of alexander! even if the heroic or divine name can be shown to be the original one (which is practically impossible), the meaning of the name helps us little. that zeus means 'sky' cannot conceivably explain scores of details in the very composite legend of zeus--say, the story of zeus, demeter, and the ram. moreover, we decline to admit that, if a divine name means 'swift,' its bearer must be the wind or the sunlight. nor, if the name means 'white,' is it necessarily a synonym of dawn, or of lightning, or of clear air, or what not. but a mythologist who makes language and names the fountain of myth will go on insisting that myths can only be studied by people who know the language in which they are told. mythologists who believe that human nature is the source of myths will go on comparing all myths that are accessible in translations by competent collectors. mr. max muller says, 'we seldom find mythology, as it were, in situ--as it lived in the minds and unrestrained utterances of the people. we generally have to study it in the works of mythographers, or in the poems of later generations, when it had long ceased to be living and intelligible.' the myths of greece and rome, in hyginus or ovid, 'are likely to be as misleading as a hortus siccus would be to a botanist if debarred from his rambles through meadows and hedges.' { c} nothing can be more true, or more admirably stated. these remarks are, indeed, the charter, so to speak, of anthropological mythology and of folklore. the old mythologists worked at a hortus siccus, at myths dried and pressed in thoroughly literary books, greek and latin. but we now study myths 'in the unrestrained utterances of the people,' either of savage tribes or of the european folk, the unprogressive peasant class. the former, and to some extent the latter, still live in the mythopoeic state of mind--regarding bees, for instance, as persons who must be told of a death in the family. their myths are still not wholly out of concord with their habitual view of a world in which an old woman may become a hare. as soon as learned jesuits like pere lafitau began to understand their savage flocks, they said, 'these men are living in ovid's metamorphoses.' they found mythology in situ! hence mythologists now study mythology in situ--in savages and in peasants, who till very recently were still in the mythopoeic stage of thought. mannhardt made this idea his basis. mr. max muller says, { d} very naturally, that i have been 'popularising the often difficult and complicated labours of mannhardt and others.' in fact (as is said later), i published all my general conclusions before i had read mannhardt. quite independently i could not help seeing that among savages and peasants we had mythology, not in a literary hortus siccus, but in situ. mannhardt, though he appreciated dr. tylor, had made, i think, but few original researches among savage myths and customs. his province was european folklore. what he missed will be indicated in the chapter on 'the fire-walk'--one example among many. but this kind of mythology in situ, in 'the unrestrained utterances of the people,' mr. max muller tells us, is no province of his. 'i saw it was hopeless for me to gain a knowledge at first hand of innumerable local legends and customs;' and it is to be supposed that he distrusted knowledge acquired by collectors: grimm, mannhardt, campbell of islay, and an army of others. 'a scholarlike knowledge of maori or hottentot mythology' was also beyond him. we, on the contrary, take our maori lore from a host of collectors: taylor, white, manning ('the pakeha maori'), tregear, polack, and many others. from them we flatter ourselves that we get--as from grimm, mannhardt, islay, and the rest--mythology in situ. we compare it with the dry mythologic blossoms of the classical hortus siccus, and with greek ritual and temple legend, and with marchen in the scholiasts, and we think the comparisons very illuminating. they have thrown new light on greek mythology, ritual, mysteries, and religion. this much we think we have already done, though we do not know maori, and though each of us can hope to gather but few facts from the mouths of living peasants. examples of the results of our method will be found in the following pages. thus, if the myth of the fire-stealer in greece is explained by misunderstood greek or sanskrit words in no way connected with robbery, we shall show that the myth of the theft of fire occurs where no greek or sanskrit words were ever spoken. _there_, we shall show, the myth arose from simple inevitable human ideas. we shall therefore doubt whether in greece a common human myth had a singular cause--in a 'disease of language.' it is with no enthusiasm that i take the opportunity of mr. max muller's reply to me 'by name.' since myth, ritual, and religion (now out of print, but accessible in the french of m. marillier) was published, ten years ago, i have left mythology alone. the general method there adopted has been applied in a much more erudite work by mr. frazer, the golden bough, by mr. farnell in cults of the greek states, by mr. jevons in his introduction to the history of religion, by miss harrison in explanations of greek ritual, by mr. hartland in the legend of perseus, and doubtless by many other writers. how much they excel me in erudition may be seen by comparing mr. farnell's passage on the bear artemis { e} with the section on her in this volume. mr. max muller observes that 'mannhardt's mythological researches have never been fashionable.' they are now very much in fashion; they greatly inspire mr. frazer and mr. farnell. 'they seemed to me, and still seem to me, too exclusive,' says mr. max muller. { f} mannhardt in his second period was indeed chiefly concerned with myths connected, as he held, with agriculture and with tree-worship. mr. max muller, too, has been thought 'exclusive'--'as teaching,' he complains, 'that the whole of mythology is solar.' that reproach arose, he says, because 'some of my earliest contributions to comparative mythology were devoted exclusively to the special subject of solar myths.' { g} but mr. max muller also mentions his own complaints, of 'the omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn appearing in ever so many disguises.' did they really appear? were the myths, say the myths of daphne, really solar? that is precisely what we hesitate to accept. in the same way mannhardt's preoccupation with vegetable myths has tended, i think, to make many of his followers ascribe vegetable origins to myths and gods, where the real origin is perhaps for ever lost. the corn-spirit starts up in most unexpected places. mr. frazer, mannhardt's disciple, is very severe on solar theories of osiris, and connects that god with the corn- spirit. but mannhardt did not go so far. mannhardt thought that the myth of osiris was solar. to my thinking, these resolutions of myths into this or that original source--solar, nocturnal, vegetable, or what not--are often very perilous. a myth so extremely composite as that of osiris must be a stream flowing from many springs, and, as in the case of certain rivers, it is difficult or impossible to say which is the real fountain-head. one would respectfully recommend to young mythologists great reserve in their hypotheses of origins. all this, of course, is the familiar thought of writers like mr. frazer and mr. farnell, but a tendency to seek for exclusively vegetable origins of gods is to be observed in some of the most recent speculations. i well know that i myself am apt to press a theory of totems too far, and in the following pages i suggest reserves, limitations, and alternative hypotheses. il y a serpent et serpent; a snake tribe may be a local tribe named from the snake river, not a totem kindred. the history of mythology is the history of rash, premature, and exclusive theories. we are only beginning to learn caution. even the prevalent anthropological theory of the ghost-origin of religion might, i think, be advanced with caution (as mr. jevons argues on other grounds) till we know a little more about ghosts and a great deal more about psychology. we are too apt to argue as if the psychical condition of the earliest men were exactly like our own; while we are just beginning to learn, from prof. william james, that about even our own psychical condition we are only now realising our exhaustive ignorance. how often we men have thought certain problems settled for good! how often we have been compelled humbly to return to our studies! philological comparative mythology seemed securely seated for a generation. her throne is tottering: our little systems have their day, they have their day and cease to be, they are but broken lights from thee, and thou, we trust, art more than they. but we need not hate each other for the sake of our little systems, like the grammarian who damned his rival's soul for his 'theory of the irregular verbs.' nothing, i hope, is said here inconsistent with the highest esteem for mr. max muller's vast erudition, his enviable style, his unequalled contributions to scholarship, and his awakening of that interest in mythological science without which his adversaries would probably never have existed. most of chapter xii. appeared in the 'contemporary review,' and most of chapter xiii. in the 'princeton review.' regent mythology mythology in - between and , roughly speaking, english people interested in early myths and religions found the mythological theories of professor max muller in possession of the field. these brilliant and attractive theories, taking them in the widest sense, were not, of course, peculiar to the right hon. professor. in france, in germany, in america, in italy, many scholars agreed in his opinion that the science of language is the most potent spell for opening the secret chamber of mythology. but while these scholars worked on the same general principle as mr. max muller, while they subjected the names of mythical beings--zeus, helen, achilles, athene--to philological analysis, and then explained the stories of gods and heroes by their interpretations of the meanings of their names, they arrived at all sorts of discordant results. where mr. max muller found a myth of the sun or of the dawn, these scholars were apt to see a myth of the wind, of the lightning, of the thunder-cloud, of the crepuscule, of the upper air, of what each of them pleased. but these ideas--the ideas of kuhn, welcker, curtius (when he appeared in the discussion), of schwartz, of lauer, of breal, of many others--were very little known--if known at all--to the english public. captivated by the graces of mr. max muller's manner, and by a style so pellucid that it accredited a logic perhaps not so clear, the public hardly knew of the divisions in the philological camp. they were unaware that, as mannhardt says, the philological school had won 'few sure gains,' and had discredited their method by a 'muster-roll of variegated' and discrepant 'hypotheses.' now, in all sciences there are differences of opinion about details. in comparative mythology there was, with rare exceptions, no agreement at all about results beyond this point; greek and sanskrit, german and slavonic myths were, in the immense majority of instances, to be regarded as mirror-pictures on earth, of celestial and meteorological phenomena. thus even the story of the earth goddess, the harvest goddess, demeter, was usually explained as a reflection in myth of one or another celestial phenomenon--dawn, storm-cloud, or something else according to taste. again, greek or german myths were usually to be interpreted by comparison with myths in the rig veda. their origin was to be ascertained by discovering the aryan root and original significance of the names of gods and heroes, such as saranyu--erinnys, daphne--dahana, athene--ahana. the etymology and meaning of such names being ascertained, the origin and sense of the myths in which the names occur should be clear. clear it was not. there were, in most cases, as many opinions as to the etymology and meaning of each name and myth, as there were philologists engaged in the study. mannhardt, who began, in , as a member of the philological school, in his last public utterance ( ) described the method and results, including his own work of , as 'mainly failures.' but, long ere that, the english cultivated public had, most naturally, accepted mr. max muller as the representative of the school which then held the field in comparative mythology. his german and other foreign brethren, with their discrepant results, were only known to the general, in england (i am not speaking of english scholars), by the references to them in the oxford professor's own works. his theories were made part of the education of children, and found their way into a kind of popular primers. for these reasons, anyone in england who was daring enough to doubt, or to deny, the validity of the philological system of mythology in general was obliged to choose mr. max muller as his adversary. he must strike, as it were, the shield of no hospitaler of unsteady seat, but that of the templar himself. and this is the cause of what seems to puzzle mr. max muller, namely the attacks on _his_ system and _his_ results in particular. an english critic, writing for english readers, had to do with the scholar who chiefly represented the philological school of mythology in the eyes of england. autobiographical like other inquiring undergraduates in the sixties, i read such works on mythology as mr. max muller had then given to the world; i read them with interest, but without conviction. the argument, the logic, seemed to evade one; it was purely, with me, a question of logic, for i was of course prepared to accept all of mr. max muller's dicta on questions of etymologies. even now i never venture to impugn them, only, as i observe that other scholars very frequently differ, toto caelo, from him and from each other in essential questions, i preserve a just balance of doubt; i wait till these gentlemen shall be at one among themselves. after taking my degree in , i had leisure to read a good deal of mythology in the legends of all races, and found my distrust of mr. max muller's reasoning increase upon me. the main cause was that whereas mr. max muller explained greek myths by etymologies of words in the aryan languages, chiefly greek, latin, slavonic, and sanskrit, i kept finding myths very closely resembling those of greece among red indians, kaffirs, eskimo, samoyeds, kamilaroi, maoris, and cahrocs. now if aryan myths arose from a 'disease' of aryan languages, it certainly did seem an odd thing that myths so similar to these abounded where non-aryan languages alone prevailed. did a kind of linguistic measles affect all tongues alike, from sanskrit to choctaw, and everywhere produce the same ugly scars in religion and myth? the ugly scars the ugly scars were the problem! a civilised fancy is not puzzled for a moment by a beautiful beneficent sun-god, or even by his beholding the daughters of men that they are fair. but a civilised fancy _is_ puzzled when the beautiful sun-god makes love in the shape of a dog. { } to me, and indeed to mr. max muller, the ugly scars were the problem. he has written--'what makes mythology mythological, in the true sense of the word, is what is utterly unintelligible, absurd, strange, or miraculous.' but he explained these blots on the mythology of greece, for example, as the result practically of old words and popular sayings surviving in languages after the original, harmless, symbolical meanings of the words and sayings were lost. what had been a poetical remark about an aspect of nature became an obscene, or brutal, or vulgar myth, a stumbling block to greek piety and to greek philosophy. to myself, on the other hand, it seemed that the ugly scars were remains of that kind of taste, fancy, customary law, and incoherent speculation which everywhere, as far as we know, prevails to various degrees in savagery and barbarism. attached to the 'hideous idols,' as mr. max muller calls them, of early greece, and implicated in a ritual which religious conservatism dared not abandon, the fables of perhaps neolithic ancestors of the hellenes remained in the religion and the legends known to plato and socrates. that this process of 'survival' is a vera causa, illustrated in every phase of evolution, perhaps nobody denies. thus the phenomena which the philological school of mythology explains by a disease of language we would explain by survival from a savage state of society and from the mental peculiarities observed among savages in all ages and countries. of course there is nothing new in this: i was delighted to discover the idea in eusebius as in fontenelle; while, for general application to singular institutions, it was a commonplace of the last century. { a} moreover, the idea had been widely used by dr. e. b. tylor in primitive culture, and by mr. mclennan in his primitive marriage and essays on totemism. my criticism of mr. max muller this idea i set about applying to the repulsive myths of civilised races, and to marchen, or popular tales, at the same time combating the theories which held the field--the theories of the philological mythologists as applied to the same matter. in journalism i criticised mr. max muller, and i admit that, when comparing the mutually destructive competition of varying etymologies, i did not abstain from the weapons of irony and _badinage_. the opportunity was too tempting! but, in the most sober seriousness, i examined mr. max muller's general statement of his system, his hypothesis of certain successive stages of language, leading up to the mythopoeic confusion of thought. it was not a question of denying mr. max muller's etymologies, but of asking whether he established his historical theory by evidence, and whether his inferences from it were logically deduced. the results of my examination will be found in the article 'mythology' in the encyclopaedia britannica, and in la mythologie. { b} it did not appear to me that mr. max muller's general theory was valid, logical, historically demonstrated, or self-consistent. my other writings on the topic are chiefly custom and myth, myth, ritual, and religion (with french and dutch translations, both much improved and corrected by the translators), and an introduction to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's marchen. success of anthropological method during fifteen years the ideas which i advocated seem to have had some measure of success. this is, doubtless, due not to myself, but to the works of mr. j. g. frazer and of professor robertson smith. both of these scholars descend intellectually from a man less scholarly than they, but, perhaps, more original and acute than any of us, my friend the late mr. j. f. mclennan. to mannhardt also much is owed, and, of course, above all, to dr. tylor. these writers, like mr. farnell and mr. jevons recently, seek for the answer to mythological problems rather in the habits and ideas of the folk and of savages and barbarians than in etymologies and 'a disease of language.' there are differences of opinion in detail: i myself may think that 'vegetation spirits,' the 'corn spirit,' and the rest occupy too much space in the systems of mannhardt, and other moderns. mr. frazer, again, thinks less of the evidence for totems among 'aryans' than i was inclined to do. { } but it is not, perhaps, an overstatement to say that explanation of myths by analysis of names, and the lately overpowering predominance of the dawn, and the sun, and the night in mythological hypothesis, have received a slight check. they do not hold the field with the superiority which was theirs in england between and . this fact--a scarcely deniable fact--does not, of course, prove that the philological method is wrong, or that the dawn is not as great a factor in myth as mr. max muller believes himself to have proved it to be. science is inevitably subject to shiftings of opinion, action, and reaction. mr. max muller's reply in this state of things mr. max muller produces his contributions to the science of mythology, { } which i propose to criticise as far as it is, or may seem to me to be, directed against myself, or against others who hold practically much the same views as mine. i say that i attempt to criticise the book 'as far as it is, or may seem to me to be, directed against' us, because it is mr. max muller's occasional habit to argue (apparently) _around_ rather than _with_ his opponents. he says 'we are told this or that'--something which he does not accept--but he often does not inform us as to _who_ tells us, or where. thus a reader does not know whom mr. max muller is opposing, or where he can find the adversary's own statement in his own words. yet it is usual in such cases, and it is, i think, expedient, to give chapter and verse. occasionally i find that mr. max muller is honouring me by alluding to observations of my own, but often no reference is given to an opponent's name or books, and we discover the passages in question by accident or research. this method will be found to cause certain inconveniences. the story of daphne mr. max muller's method in controversy as an illustration of the author's controversial methods, take his observations on my alleged attempt to account for the metamorphosis of daphne into a laurel tree. when i read these remarks (i. p. ) i said, 'mr. max muller vanquishes me _there_,' for he gave no reference to my statement. i had forgotten all about the matter, i was not easily able to find the passage to which he alluded, and i supposed that i had said just what mr. max muller seemed to me to make me say--no more, and no less. thus: 'mr. lang, as usual, has recourse to savages, most useful when they are really wanted. he quotes an illustration from the south pacific that tuna, the chief of the eels, fell in love with ina and asked her to cut off his head. when his head had been cut off and buried, two cocoanut trees sprang up from the brain of tuna. how is this, may i ask, to account for the story of daphne? everybody knows that "stories of the growing of plants out of the scattered members of heroes may be found from ancient egypt to the wigwams of the algonquins," but these stories seem hardly applicable to daphne, whose members, as far as i know, were never either severed or scattered.' i thought, perhaps hastily, that i must have made the story of tuna 'account for the story of daphne.' mr. max muller does not actually say that i did so, but i understood him in that sense, and recognised my error. but, some guardian genius warning me, i actually hunted up my own observations. { a} well, i had never said (as i conceived my critic to imply) that the story of tuna 'accounts for the story of daphne.' that was what i had not said. i had observed, 'as to interchange of shape between men and women and _plants_, our information, so far as the lower races are concerned, is less copious'--than in the case of stones. i then spoke of plant totems of one kin with human beings, of plant-souls, { b} of indian and egyptian plants animated by _human_ souls, of a tree which became a young man and made love to a yurucari girl, of metamorphosis into vegetables in samoa, { c} of an ottawa myth in which a man became a plant of maize, and then of the story of tuna. { d} next i mentioned plants said to have sprung from dismembered gods and heroes. _all_ this, i said, _all_ of it, proves that savages mythically regard human life as on a level with vegetable no less than with animal life. 'turning to the mythology of greece, we see that the same rule holds good. metamorphosis into plants and flowers is extremely common,' and i, of course, attributed the original idea of such metamorphoses to 'the general savage habit of "levelling up,"' of regarding all things in nature as all capable of interchanging their identities. i gave, as classical examples, daphne, myrrha, hyacinth, narcissus, and the sisters of phaethon. next i criticised mr. max muller's theory of daphne. but i never hinted that the isolated mangaian story of tuna, or the stories of plants sprung from mangled men, 'accounted,' by themselves, 'for the story of daphne.' mr. max muller is not content with giving a very elaborate and interesting account of how the story of tuna arose (i. - ). he keeps tuna in hand, and, at the peroration of his vast work (ii. ), warns us that, before we compare myths in unrelated languages, we need 'a very accurate knowledge of their dialects . . . to prevent accidents like that of tuna mentioned in the beginning.' what accident? that i explained the myth of daphne by the myth of tuna? but that is precisely what i did not do. i explained the greek myth of daphne ( ) as a survival from the savage mental habit of regarding men as on a level with stones, beasts, and plants; or ( ) as a tale 'moulded by poets on the same model.' { } the latter is the more probable case, for we find daphne late, in artificial or mythographic literature, in ovid and hyginus. in ovid the river god, pentheus, changes daphne into a laurel. in hyginus she is not changed at all; the earth swallows her, and a laurel fills her place. now i really did believe--perhaps any rapid reader would have believed--when i read mr. max muller, that i must have tried to account for the story of daphne by the story of tuna. i actually wrote in the first draft of this work that i had been in the wrong. then i verified the reference which my critic did not give, with the result which the reader has perused. never could a reader have found out what i did really say from my critic, for he does not usually when he deals with me give chapter and verse. this may avoid an air of personal bickering, but how inconvenient it is! let me not be supposed to accuse mr. max muller of consciously misrepresenting me. of that i need not say that he is absolutely incapable. my argument merely took, in his consciousness, the form which is suggested in the passage cited from him. tuna and daphne to do justice to mr. max muller, i will here state fully his view of the story of tuna, and then go on to the story of daphne. for the sake of accuracy, i take the liberty of borrowing the whole of his statement (i. - ):-- 'i must dwell a little longer on this passage in order to show the real difference between the ethnological and the philological schools of comparative mythology. 'first of all, what has to be explained is not the growing up of a tree from one or the other member of a god or hero, but the total change of a human being or a heroine into a tree, and this under a certain provocation. these two classes of plant-legends must be carefully kept apart. secondly, what does it help us to know that people in mangaia believed in the change of human beings into trees, if we do not know the reason why? this is what we want to know; and without it the mere juxtaposition of stories apparently similar is no more than the old trick of explaining ignotum per ignotius. it leads us to imagine that we have learnt something, when we really are as ignorant as before. 'if mr. a. lang had studied the mangaian dialect, or consulted scholars like the rev. w. w. gill--it is from his "myths and songs from the south pacific" that he quotes the story of tuna--he would have seen that there is no similarity whatever between the stories of daphne and of tuna. the tuna story belongs to a very well known class of aetiological plant-stories, which are meant to explain a no longer intelligible name of a plant, such as snakeshead, stiefmutterchen, &c.; it is in fact a clear case of what i call disease of language, cured by the ordinary nostrum of folk-etymology. i have often been in communication with the rev. w. w. gill about these south pacific myths and their true meaning. the preface to his collection of myths and songs from the south pacific was written by me in ; and if mr. a. lang had only read the whole chapter which treats of these tree-myths (p. seq.), he would easily have perceived the real character of the tuna story, and would not have placed it in the same class as the daphne story; he would have found that the white kernel of the cocoanut was, in mangaia, called the "brains of tuna," a name like many more such names which after a time require an explanation. 'considering that "cocoanut" was used in mangaia in the sense of head (testa), the kernel or flesh of it might well be called the brain. if then the white kernel had been called tuna's brain, we have only to remember that in mangaia there are two kinds of cocoanut trees, and we shall then have no difficulty in understanding why these twin cocoanut trees were said to have sprung from the two halves of tuna's brain, one being red in stem, branches, and fruit, whilst the other was of a deep green. in proof of these trees being derived from the head of tuna, we are told that we have only to break the nut in order to see in the sprouting germ the two eyes and the mouth of tuna, the great eel, the lover of ina. for a full understanding of this very complicated myth more information has been supplied by mr. gill. ina means moon; ina-mae- aitu, the heroine of our story, means ina-who-had-a-divine (aitu) lover, and she was the daughter of kui, the blind. tuna means eel, and in mangaia it was unlawful for women to eat eels, so that even now, as mr. gill informs me, his converts turn away from this fish with the utmost disgust. from other stories about the origin of cocoanut trees, told in the same island, it would appear that the sprouts of the cocoanut were actually called eels' heads, while the skulls of warriors were called cocoanuts. 'taking all these facts together, it is not difficult to imagine how the story of tuna's brain grew up; and i am afraid we shall have to confess that the legend of tuna throws but little light on the legend of daphne or on the etymology of her name. no one would have a word to say against the general principle that much that is irrational, absurd, or barbarous in the veda is a survival of a more primitive mythology anterior to the veda. how could it be otherwise?' criticism of tuna and daphne now ( ), as to daphne, we are not invariably told that hers was a case of 'the total change of a heroine into a tree.' in ovid { } she is thus changed. in hyginus, on the other hand, the earth swallows her, and a tree takes her place. all the authorities are late. here i cannot but reflect on the scholarly method of mannhardt, who would have examined and criticised all the sources for the tale before trying to explain it. however, daphne was not mangled; a tree did not spring from her severed head or scattered limbs. she was metamorphosed, or was buried in earth, a tree springing up from the place. ( ) i think we do know _why_ the people of mangaia 'believe in the change of human beings into trees.' it is one among many examples of the savage sense of the intercommunity of all nature. 'antiquity made its division between man and the world in a very different sort than do the moderns.' { a} i illustrate this mental condition fully in m. r. r. i. - . _why_ savages adopt the major premise, 'human life is on a level with the life of all nature,' philosophers explain in various ways. hume regards it as an extension to the universe of early man's own consciousness of life and personality. dr. tylor thinks that the opinion rests upon 'a broad philosophy of nature.' { b} m. lefebure appeals to psychical phenomena as i show later (see 'fetishism'). at all events, the existence of these savage metaphysics is a demonstrated fact. i established it { c} before invoking it as an explanation of savage belief in metamorphosis. ( ) 'the tuna story belongs to a very well known class of aetiological plant-stories' (aetiological: assigning a cause for the plant, its peculiarities, its name, &c.), 'which are meant to explain a no longer intelligible name of a plant, &c.' i also say, 'these myths are nature- myths, so far as they attempt to account for a fact in nature--namely, for the existence of certain plants, and for their place in ritual.' { } the reader has before him mr. max muller's view. the white kernel of the cocoanut was locally styled 'the brains of tuna.' that name required explanation. hence the story about the fate of tuna. cocoanut was used in mangaia in the sense of 'head' (testa). so it is now in england. see bell's life, passim, as 'the chicken got home on the cocoanut.' the explanation on the whole, either cocoanut kernels were called 'brains of tuna' because 'cocoanut'='head,' and a head has brains--and, well, somehow i fail to see why brains of tuna in particular! or, there being a story to the effect that the first cocoanut grew out of the head of the metamorphosed tuna, the kernel was called his brains. but why was the story told, and why of tuna? tuna was an eel, and women may not eat eels; and ina was the moon, who, a mangaian selene, loved no latmian shepherd, but an eel. seriously, i fail to understand mr. max muller's explanation. given the problem, to explain a no longer intelligible plant-name--brains of tuna--(applied not to a plant but to the kernel of a nut), this name is explained by saying that the moon, ina, loved an eel, cut off his head at his desire, and buried it. thence sprang cocoanut trees, with a fanciful likeness to a human face--face of tuna--on the nut. but still, why tuna? how could the moon love an eel, except on my own general principle of savage 'levelling up' of all life in all nature? in my opinion, the mangaians wanted a fable to account for the resemblance of a cocoanut to the human head--a resemblance noted, as i show, in our own popular slang. the mangaians also knew the moon, in her mythical aspect, as ina; and tuna, whatever his name may mean (mr. max muller does not tell us), was an eel. { } having the necessary savage major premise in their minds, 'all life is on a level and interchangeable,' the mangaians thought well to say that the head-like cocoanut sprang from the head of her lover, an eel, cut off by ina. the myth accounts, i think, for the peculiarities of the cocoanut, rather than for the name 'brains of tuna;' for we still ask, 'why of tuna in particular? why tuna more than rangoa, or anyone else?' 'we shall have to confess that the legend of tuna throws but little light on the legend of daphne, or on the etymology of her name.' i never hinted that the legend of tuna threw light on the etymology of the name of daphne. mangaian and greek are not allied languages. nor did i give the tuna story as an explanation of the daphne story. i gave it as one in a mass of illustrations of the savage mental propensity so copiously established by dr. tylor in primitive culture. the two alternative explanations which i gave of the daphne story i have cited. no mention of tuna occurs in either. disease of language and folk-etymology the tuna story is described as 'a clear case of disease of language cured by the ordinary nostrum of folk-etymology.' the 'disease' showed itself, i suppose, in the presence of the mangaian words for 'brain of tuna.' but the story of tuna gives no folk-etymology of the name tuna. now, to give an etymology of a name of forgotten meaning is the sole object of folk- etymology. the plant-name, 'snake's head,' given as an example by mr. max muller, needs no etymological explanation. a story may be told to explain why the plant is called snake's head, but a story to give an etymology of snake's head is superfluous. the tuna story explains why the cocoanut kernel is called 'brains of tuna,' but it offers no etymology of tuna's name. on the other hand, the story that marmalade (really marmalet) is so called because queen mary found comfort in marmalade when she was sea-sick--hence marie-malade, hence _marmalade_--gives an etymological explanation of the origin of the _word_ marmalade. here is a real folk-etymology. we must never confuse such myths of folk-etymology with myths arising (on the philological hypothesis) from 'disease of language.' thus, daphne is a girl pursued by apollo, and changed into a daphne plant or laurel, or a laurel springs from the earth where she was buried. on mr. max muller's philological theory daphne=dahana, and meant 'the burning one.' apollo may be derived from a sanskrit form, *apa-var-yan, or *apa-val-yan (though how greeks ever heard a sanskrit word, if such a word as apa-val-yan ever existed, we are not told), and may mean 'one who opens the gate of the sky' (ii. - ). { } at some unknown date the ancestors of the greeks would say 'the opener of the gates of the sky (*apa-val-yan, i.e. the sun) pursues the burning one (dahana, i.e. the dawn).' the greek language would retain this poetic saying in daily use till, in the changes of speech, *apa-val-yan ceased to be understood, and became apollo, while dahana ceased to be understood, and became daphne. but the verb being still understood, the phrase ran, 'apollo pursues daphne.' now the greeks had a plant, laurel, called daphne. they therefore blended plant, daphne, and heroine's name, daphne, and decided that the phrase 'apollo pursues daphne' meant that apollo chased a nymph, daphne, who, to escape his love, turned into a laurel. i cannot give mr. max muller's theory of the daphne story more clearly. if i misunderstand it, that does not come from want of pains. in opposition to it we urge that ( ) the etymological equations, daphne=dahana, apollo=*apa-val-yan, are not generally accepted by other scholars. schroder, in fact, derives apollo 'from the vedic saparagenya, "worshipful," an epithet of agni,' who is fire (ii. ), and so on. daphne=dahana is no less doubted. of course a greek simply cannot be 'derived' from a sanskrit word, as is stated, though both may have a common origin, just as french is not 'derived from' italian. ( ) if the etymologies were accepted, no proof is offered to us of the actual existence, as a vera causa, of the process by which a saying. 'apollo pursues daphne,' remains in language, while the meaning of the words is forgotten. this process is essential, but undemonstrated. see the chapter here on 'the riddle theory.' ( ) these processes, if demonstrated, which they are not, must be carefully discriminated from the actual demonstrable process of folk-etymology. the marmalade legend gives the etymology of a word, marmalade; the daphne legend does not give an etymology. ( ) the theory of daphne is of the kind protested against by mannhardt, where he warns us against looking in most myths for a 'mirror-picture' on earth of celestial phenomena. { a} for these reasons, among others, i am disinclined to accept mr. max muller's attempt to explain the story of daphne. mannhardt on daphne since we shall presently find mr. max muller claiming the celebrated mannhardt as a sometime deserter of philological comparative mythology, who 'returned to his old colours,' i observe with pleasure that mannhardt is on my side and against the oxford professor. mannhardt shows that the laurel (daphne) was regarded as a plant which, like our rowan tree, averts evil influences. 'moreover, the laurel, like the maibaum, was looked on as a being with a spirit. this is the safest result which myth analysis can extract from the story of daphne, a nymph pursued by apollo and changed into a laurel. it is a result of the use of the laurel in his ritual.' { b} in , a year after mannhardt is said by mr. max muller to have returned to his old colours, he repeats this explanation. { a} in the same work (p. ) he says that 'there is no reason for accepting max muller's explanation about the sun-god and the dawn, wo jeder thatliche anhalt dafur fehlt.' for this opinion we might also cite the sanskrit scholars whitney and bergaigne. { b} the question of allies athanasius mr. max muller protests, most justly, against the statement that he, like st. athanasius, stands alone, contra mundum. if ever this phrase fell from my pen (in what connection i know not), it is as erroneous as the position of st. athanasius is honourable. mr. max muller's ideas, in various modifications, are doubtless still the most prevalent of any. the anthropological method has hardly touched, i think, the learned contributors to roscher's excellent mythological lexicon. dr. brinton, whose american researches are so useful, seems decidedly to be a member of the older school. while i do not exactly remember alluding to athanasius, i fully and freely withdraw the phrase. but there remain questions of allies to be discussed. italian critics mr. max muller asks, { } 'what would mr. andrew lang say if he read the words of signer canizzaro, in his "genesi ed evoluzione del mito" ( ), "lang has laid down his arms before his adversaries"?' mr. lang 'would smile.' and what would mr. max muller say if he read the words of professor enrico morselli, 'lang gives no quarter to his adversaries, who, for the rest, have long been reduced to silence'? { } the right hon. professor also smiles, no doubt. we both smile. solvuntur risu tabulae. a dutch defender the question of the precise attitude of professor tiele, the accomplished gifford lecturer in the university of edinburgh ( ), is more important and more difficult. his remarks were made in , in an essay on the myth of cronos, and were separately reprinted, in , from the 'revue de l'histoire des religions,' which i shall cite. where they refer to myself they deal with custom and myth, not with myth, ritual, and religion ( ). it seems best to quote, ipsissimis verbis, mr. max muller's comments on professor tiele's remarks. he writes (i. viii.): 'let us proceed next to holland. professor tiele, who had actually been claimed as an ally of the victorious army, declares:--"je dois m'elever, au nom de la science mythologique et de l'exactitude . . . centre une methode qui ne fait que glisser sur des problemes de premiere importance." (see further on, p. .) 'and again: '"ces braves gens qui, pour peu qu'ils aient lu un ou deux livres de mythologie et d'anthropologie, et un ou deux recits de voyages, ne manqueront pas de se mettre a comparer a tort et a travers, et pour tout resultat produiront la confusion."' again (i. ): 'besides signer canizzaro and mr. horatio hale, the veteran among comparative ethnologists, professor tiele, in his le mythe de kronos ( ), has very strongly protested against the downright misrepresentations of what i and my friends have really written. 'professor tiele had been appealed to as an unimpeachable authority. he was even claimed as an ally by the ethnological students of customs and myths, but he strongly declined that honour ( . c., p. ):- '"m. lang m'a fait 'honneur de me citer," he writes, "comme un de ses allies, et j'ai lieu de croire que m. gaidoz en fait en quelque mesure autant. ces messieurs n'ont point entierement tort. cependant je dois m'elever, au nom de la science mythologique et de 'exactitude dont elle ne peut pas plus se passer que les autres sciences, contre une methode qui ne fait que glisser sur des problemes de premiere importance," &c. 'speaking of the whole method followed by those who actually claimed to have founded a new school of mythology, he says (p. ):-- '"je crains toutefois que ce qui s'y trouve de vrai ne soit connu depuis longtemps, et que la nouvelle ecole ne peche par exclusionisme tout autant que les ainees qu'elle combat avec tant de conviction." 'that is exactly what i have always said. what is there new in comparing the customs and myths of the greeks with those of the barbarians? has not even plato done this? did anybody doubt that the greeks, nay even the hindus, were uncivilised or savages, before they became civilised or tamed? was not this common-sense view, so strongly insisted on by fontenelle and vico in the eighteenth century, carried even to excess by such men as de brosses ( - )? and have the lessons taught to de brosses by his witty contemporaries been quite forgotten? must his followers be told again and again that they ought to begin with a critical examination of the evidence put before them by casual travellers, and that mythology is as little made up of one and the same material as the crust of the earth of granite only?' reply professor tiele wrote in . i do not remember having claimed his alliance, though i made one or two very brief citations from his remarks on the dangers of etymology applied to old proper names. { a} to citations made by me later in professor tiele cannot be referring. { b} thus i find no proof of any claim of alliance put forward by me, but i do claim a right to quote the professor's published words. these i now translate:--{ c} 'what goes before shows adequately that i am an ally, much more than an adversary, of the new school, whether styled ethnological or anthropological. it is true that all the ideas advanced by its partisans are not so new as they seem. some of us--i mean among those who, without being vassals of the old school, were formed by it--had not only remarked already the defects of the reigning method, but had perceived the direction in which researches should be made; they had even begun to say so. this does not prevent the young school from enjoying the great merit of having first formulated with precision, and with the energy of conviction, that which had hitherto been but imperfectly pointed out. if henceforth mythological science marches with a firmer foot, and loses much of its hypothetical character, it will in part owe this to the stimulus of the new school.' 'braves gens' professor tiele then bids us leave our cries of triumph to the servum imitatorum pecus, braves gens, and so forth, as in the passage which mr. max muller, unless i misunderstand him, regards as referring to the 'new school,' and, notably, to m. gaidoz and myself, though such language ought not to apply to m. gaidoz, because he is a scholar. i am left to uncovenanted mercies. professor tiele on our merits the merits of the new school professor tiele had already stated:--{ } 'if i were reduced to choose between this method and that of comparative philology, i would prefer the former without the slightest hesitation. this method alone enables us to explain the fact, such a frequent cause of surprise, that the greeks like the germans . . . could attribute to their gods all manner of cruel, cowardly and dissolute actions. this method alone reveals the cause of all the strange metamorphoses of gods into animals, plants, and even stones. . . . in fact, this method teaches us to recognise in all these oddities the survivals of an age of barbarism long over-past, but lingering into later times, under the form of religious legends, the most persistent of all traditions. . . . this method, enfin, can alone help us to account for the genesis of myths, because it devotes itself to studying them in their rudest and most primitive shape. . . . ' destruction and construction thus writes professor tiele about the constructive part of our work. as to the destructive--or would-be destructive--part, he condenses my arguments against the method of comparative philology. 'to resume, the whole house of comparative philological mythology is builded on the sand, and her method does not deserve confidence, since it ends in such divergent results.' that is professor tiele's statement of my destructive conclusions, and he adds, 'so far, i have not a single objection to make. i can still range myself on mr. lang's side when he' takes certain distinctions into which it is needless to go here. { } allies or not? these are several of the passages on which, in , i relied as evidence of the professor's approval, which, i should have added, is only partial it is he who, unsolicited, professes himself 'much more our ally than our adversary.' it is he who proclaims that mr. max midler's central hypothesis is erroneous, and who makes 'no objection' to my idea that it is 'builded on the sand.' it is he who assigns essential merits to our method, and i fail to find that he 'strongly declines the honour' of our alliance. the passage about 'braves gens' explicitly does not refer to us. our errors in , i was not careful to quote what professor tiele had said against us. first, as to our want of novelty. that merit, i think, i had never claimed. i was proud to point out that we had been anticipated by eusebius of caesarea, by fontenelle, and doubtless by many others. we repose, as professor tiele justly says, on the researches of dr. tylor. at the same time it is professor tiele who constantly speaks of 'the new school,' while adding that he himself had freely opposed mr. max muller's central hypothesis, 'a disease of language,' in dutch periodicals. the professor also censures our 'exclusiveness,' our 'narrowness,' our 'songs of triumph,' our use of parody (m. gaidoz republished an old one, not to my own taste; i have also been guilty of 'the great gladstone myth') and our charge that our adversaries neglect ethnological material. on this i explain myself later. { a} uses of philology our method (says professor tiele) 'cannot answer all the questions which the science of mythology must solve, or, at least, must study.' certainly it makes no such pretence. professor tiele then criticises sir george cox and mr. robert brown, junior, for their etymologies of poseidon. indiscreet followers are not confined to our army alone. now, the use of philology, we learn, is to discourage such etymological vagaries as those of sir g. cox. { b} _we_ also discourage them--severely. but we are warned that philology really has discovered 'some undeniably certain etymologies' of divine names. well, i also say, 'philology alone can tell whether zeus asterios, or adonis, or zeus labrandeus is originally a semitic or a greek divine name; here she is the pythoness we must all consult.' { a} and is it my fault that, even in this matter, the pythonesses utter such strangely discrepant oracles? is athene from a zend root (benfey), a greek root (curtius), or to be interpreted by sanskrit ahana (max muller)? meanwhile professor tiele repeats that, in a search for the origin of myths, and, above all, of obscene and brutal myths, 'philology will lead us far from our aim.' now, if the school of mr. max muller has a mot d'ordre, it is, says professor tiele, 'to call mythology a disease of language.' { b} but, adds mr. max muller's learned dutch defender, mythologists, while using philology for certain purposes, 'must shake themselves free, of course, from the false hypothesis' (mr. max muller's) 'which makes of mythology a mere maladie du langage.' this professor is rather a dangerous defender of mr. max muller! he removes the very corner-stone of his edifice, which tiele does not object to our describing as founded on the sand. mr. max muller does not cite (as far as i observe) these passages in which professor tiele (in my view, and in fact) abandons (for certain uses) _his_ system of mythology. perhaps professor tiele has altered his mind, and, while keeping what mr. max muller quotes, braves gens, and so on, has withdrawn what he said about 'the false hypothesis of a disease of language.' but my own last book about myths was written in - , shortly after professor tiele's remarks were published ( ) as i have cited them. personal controversy all this matter of alliances may seem, and indeed is, of a personal character, and therefore unimportant. professor tiele's position in - is clearly defined. whatever he may have published since, he then accepted the anthropological or ethnological method, as _alone_ capable of doing the work in which we employ it. this method alone can discover the origin of ancient myths, and alone can account for the barbaric element, that old puzzle, in the myths of civilised races. this the philological method, useful for other purposes, cannot do, and its central hypothesis can only mislead us. i was not aware, i repeat, that i ever claimed professor tiele's 'alliance,' as he, followed by mr. max muller, declares. they cannot point, as a proof of an assertion made by professor tiele, - , to words of mine which did not see the light till , in myth, ritual, and religion, i. pp. , , . not that i deny professor tiele's statement about my claim of his alliance before - . i merely ask for a reference to this claim. in { } i cited his observations (already quoted) on the inadequate and misleading character of the philological method, when we are seeking for 'the origin of a myth, or the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or trying to account for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races.' i added the professor's applause of the philological method as applied to other problems of mythology; for example, 'the genealogical relations of myths. . . . the philological method alone can answer here,' aided, doubtless, by historical and archaeological researches as to the inter-relations of races. this approval of the philological method, i cited; the reader will find the whole passage in the revue, vol. xii. p. . i remarked, however, that this will seem 'a very limited province,' though, in this province, 'philology is the pythoness we must all consult; in this sphere she is supreme, when her high priests are of one mind.' thus i did not omit to notice professor tiele's comments on the _merits_ of the philological method. to be sure, he himself does not apply it when he comes to examine the myth of cronos. 'are the god and his myth original or imported? i have not approached this question because it does not seem to me ripe in this particular case.' { a} 'mr. lang has justly rejected the opinion of welcker and mr. max muller, that cronos is simply formed from zeus's epithet, [greek].' { b} this opinion, however, mr. max muller still thinks the 'most likely' (ii. ). my other citation of professor tiele in says that our pretensions 'are not unacknowledged' by him, and, after a long quotation of approving passages, i add 'the method is thus _applauded_ by a most competent authority, and it has been _warmly accepted_' (pray note the distinction) by m. gaidoz. { c} i trust that what i have said is not unfair. professor tiele's objections, not so much to our method as to our manners, and to my own use of the method in a special case, have been stated, or will be stated later. probably i should have put them forward in ; i now repair my error. my sole wish is to be fair; if mr. max muller has not wholly succeeded in giving the full drift of professor tiele's remarks, i am certain that it is from no lack of candour. the story of cronos professor tiele now devotes fifteen pages to the story of cronos, and to my essay on that theme. he admits that i was right in regarding the myth as 'extraordinarily old,' and that in greece it must go back to a period when greeks had not passed the new zealand level of civilisation. [now, the new zealanders were cannibals!] but 'we are the victims of a great illusion if we think that a mere comparison of a maori and greek myth explains the myth.' i only profess to explain the savagery of the myth by the fact (admitted) that it was composed by savages. the maori story 'is a myth of the creation of light.' i, for my part, say, 'it is a myth of the severance of heaven and earth.' { a} and so it is! no being said, in maori, 'fiat lux!' light is not here _created_. heaven lay flat on earth, all was dark, somebody kicked heaven up, the already existing light came in. here is no creation de la lumiere. i ask professor tiele, 'do you, sir, create light when you open your window- shutters in the morning? no, you let light in!' the maori tale is also 'un mythe primitif de l'aurore,' a primitive dawn myth. dawn, again! here i lose professor tiele. 'has the myth of cronos the same sense?' probably not, as the maori story, to my mind, has not got it either. but professor tiele says, 'the myth of cronos has precisely the opposite sense.' { b} what is the myth of cronos? ouranos (heaven) married gaea (earth). ouranos 'hid his children from the light in the _hollows_ of earth' (hesiod). so, too, the new zealand gods were hidden from light while heaven (rangi) lay flat on papa (earth). the children 'were concealed between the _hollows_ of their parent's breasts.' they did not like it, for they dwelt in darkness. so cronos took an iron sickle and mutilated ouranos in such a way, enfin, as to divorce him a thoro. 'thus,' i say, 'were heaven and earth practically divorced.' the greek gods now came out of the hollows where they had been, like the new zealand gods, 'hidden from the light.' professor tiele on sunset myths no, says professor tiele, 'the story of cronos has precisely the opposite meaning.' the new zealand myth is one of dawn, the greek myth is one of sunset. the mutilated part of poor ouranos is le phallus du ciel, le soleil, which falls into 'the cosmic ocean,' and then, of course, all is dark. professor tiele may be right here; i am indifferent. all that i wanted to explain was the savage complexion of the myth, and professor tiele says that i have explained that, and (xii. ) he rejects the etymological theory of mr. max muller. i say that, in my opinion, the second part of the cronos myth (the child- swallowing performances of cronos) 'was probably a world-wide marchen, or tale, attracted into the cycle of which cronos was the centre, without any particular reason beyond the law which makes detached myths crystallise round any celebrated name.' professor tiele says he does not grasp the meaning of, or believe in, any such law. well, why is the world-wide tale of the cyclops told about odysseus? it is absolutely out of keeping, and it puzzles commentators. in fact, here was a hero and there was a tale, and the tale was attracted into the cycle of the hero; the very last man to have behaved as odysseus is made to do. { } but cronos was an odious ruffian. the world-wide tale of swallowing and disgorging the children was attracted to _his_ too notorious name 'by grace of congruity.' does professor tiele now grasp my meaning (saisir)? our lack of scientific exactness i do not here give at full length professor tiele's explanation of the meaning of a myth which i do not profess to explain myself. thus, drops of the blood of ouranos falling on earth begat the melies, usually rendered 'nymphs of the ash-trees.' but professor tiele says they were really _bees_ (hesychius, [greek]=[greek])--'that is to say, stars.' everybody has observed that the stars rise up off the earth, like the bees sprung from the blood of ouranos. in myth, ritual, and religion (i. - ) i give the competing explanations of mr. max muller, of schwartz (cronos=storm god), preller (cronos=harvest god), of others who see the sun, or time, in cronos; while, with professor tiele, cronos is the god of the upper air, and also of the underworld and harvest; he 'doubles the part.' 'il est l'un et l'autre'--that is, 'le dieu qui fait murir le ble' and also 'un dieu des lieux souterrains.' 'il habite les profondeurs sous la terre,' he is also le dieu du ciel nocturne. it may have been remarked that i declined to add to this interesting collection of plausible explanations of cronos. a selection of such explanations i offer in tabular form:-- cronos was god of time (?)--max muller sun--sayce midnight sky--kuhn under-world } midnight sky}--tiele harvest } harvest--preller storm--schwartz star-swallowing sky--canon taylor sun scorching spring--hartung cronos was by race late greek (?)--max muller semitic--bottiger accadian (?)--sayce etymology of cronos [greek]=time (?)--max muller krana (sanskrit)--kuhn karnos (horned)--brown [greek]--preller the pleased reader will also observe that the phallus of ouranos is the sun (tiele), that cronos is the sun (sayce), that cronos mutilating ouranos is the sun (hartung), just as the sun is the mutilated part of ouranos (tiele); _or_ is, according to others, the stone which cronos swallowed, and which acted as an emetic. my lack of explanation of cronos now, i have offered no explanation at all of who cronos was, what he was god of, from what race he was borrowed, from what language his name was derived. the fact is that i do not know the truth about these important debated questions. therefore, after speaking so kindly of our method, and rejecting the method of mr. max muller, professor tiele now writes thus (and _this_ mr. max muller does cite, as we have seen):-- 'mr. lang and m. gaidoz are not entirely wrong in claiming me as an ally. but i must protest, in the name of mythological science, and of the exactness as necessary to her as to any of the other sciences, against a method which only glides over questions of the first importance' (name, origin, province, race of cronos), 'and which to most questions can only reply, with a smile, c'est chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas.' my crime now, what important questions was i gliding over? in what questions did i not expect to find reason? why in this savage fatras about cronos swallowing his children, about blood-drops becoming bees (mr. max muller says 'melian nymphs'), and bees being stars, and all the rest of a prehistoric marchen worked over again and again by the later fancy of greek poets and by greek voyagers who recognised cronos in moloch. in all this i certainly saw no 'reason,' but i have given in tabular form the general, if inharmonious, conclusions of more exact and conscientious scholars, 'their variegated hypotheses,' as mannhardt says in the case of demeter. my error, rebuked by professor tiele, is the lack of that 'scientific exactitude' exhibited by the explanations arranged in my tabular form. my reply to professor tiele i would reply that i am not engaged in a study of the _cult_ of cronos, but of the revolting element in his _myth_: his swallowing of his children, taking a stone emetic by mistake, and disgorging the swallowed children alive; the stone being on view at delphi long after the christian era. now, such stories of divine feats of swallowing and disgorging are very common, i show, in savage myth and popular marchen. the bushmen have kwai hemm, who swallows the sacred mantis insect. he is killed, and all the creatures whom he has swallowed return to light. such stories occur among australians, kaffirs, red men, in guiana, in greenland, and so on. in some cases, among savages. night (conceived as a person), or one star which obscures another star, is said to 'swallow' it. therefore, i say, 'natural phenomena, explained on savage principles, might give the data of the swallowing myth, of cronos' { }--that is, the myth of cronos may be, probably is, originally a nature-myth. 'on this principle cronos would be (ad hoc) the night.' professor tiele does not allude to this effort at interpretation. but i come round to something like the view of kuhn. cronos (ad hoc) is the midnight [sky], which professor tiele also regards as one of his several aspects. it is not impossible, i think, that if the swallowing myth was originally a nature-myth, it was suggested by night. but the question i tried to answer was, 'why did the greeks, of all people, tell such a disgusting story?' and i replied, with professor tiele's approval, that they inherited it from an age to which such follies were natural, an age when the ancestors of the greeks were on (or under) the maori stage of culture. now, the maoris, a noble race, with poems of great beauty and speculative power, were cannibals, like cronos. to my mind, 'scientific exactitude' is rather shown in confessing ignorance than in adding to the list of guesses. conclusion as to professor tiele the learned professor's remarks on being 'much more my ally than my opponent' were published before my myth, ritual, and religion, in which (i. , ) i cited his agreement with me in the opinion that 'the philological method' (mr. max muller's) is 'inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of discovering the origin of a myth.' i also quoted his unhesitating preference of ours to mr. max muller's method (i. , ). i did not cite a tithe of what he actually did say to our credit. but i omitted to quote what it was inexcusable not to add, that professor tiele thinks us 'too exclusive,' that he himself had already, before us, combated mr. max muller's method in dutch periodicals, that he blamed our 'songs of triumph' and our levities, that he thought we might have ignorant camp-followers, that i glided over important questions (bees, blood-drops, stars, melian nymphs, the phallus of ouranos, &c.), and showed scientific inexactitude in declining chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas. none the less, in professor tiele's opinion, our method is new (or is _not_ new), illuminating, successful, and _alone_ successful, for the ends to which we apply it, and, finally, we have shown mr. max muller's method to be a house builded on the sand. that is the gist of what professor tiele said. mr. max muller, like myself, quotes part and omits part. he quotes twice professor tiele's observations on my deplorable habit of gliding over important questions. he twice says that we have 'actually' claimed the professor as 'an ally of the victorious army,' 'the ethnological students of custom and myth,' and once adds, 'but he strongly declined that honour.' he twice quotes the famous braves gens passage, excepting only m. gaidoz, as a scholar, from a censure explicitly directed at our possible camp-followers as distinguished from ourselves. but if mr. max muller quotes professor tiele's remarks proving that, in his opinion, the 'army' _is_ really victorious; if he cites the acquiescence in my opinion that _his_ mythological house is 'builded on the sands,' or professor tiele's preference for our method over his own, or professor tiele's volunteered remark that he is 'much more our ally than our adversary,' i have not detected the passages in contributions to the science of mythology. the reader may decide as to the relative importance of what i left out, and of what mr. max muller omitted. he says, 'professor tiele and i differ on several points, but we perfectly understand each other, and when we have made a mistake we readily confess and correct it' (i. ). the two scholars, i thought, differed greatly. mr. max muller's war-cry, slogan, mot d'ordre, is to professor tiele 'a false hypothesis.' our method, which mr. max muller combats so bravely, is all that professor tiele has said of it. but, if all this is not conspicuously apparent in our adversary's book, it does not become me to throw the first stone. we are all, in fact, inclined unconsciously to overlook what makes against our argument. i have done it; and, to the best of my belief, mr. max muller has not avoided the same error. mannhardt mannhardt's attitude professor tiele, it may appear, really 'fights for his own hand,' and is not a thorough partisan of either side. the celebrated mannhardt, too, doubtless the most original student of folk-lore since grimm, might, at different periods of his career, have been reckoned an ally, now by philologists, now by 'the new school.' he may be said, in fact, to have combined what is best in the methods of both parties. both are anxious to secure such support as his works can lend. moral character impeached mr. max muller avers that his moral character seems to be 'aimed at' by critics who say that he has no right to quote mannhardt or oldenberg as his supporters ( . xvi.). now, without making absurd imputations, i do not reckon mannhardt a thorough partisan of mr. max muller. i could not put _our_ theory so well as mannhardt puts it. 'the study of the lower races is an invaluable instrument for the interpretation of the survivals from earlier stages, which we meet in the full civilisation of cultivated peoples, but which arose in the remotest fetishism and savagery.' like mr. max muller, i do not care for the vague word 'fetishism,' otherwise mannhardt's remark exactly represents my own position, the anthropological position. { a} now, mr. max muller does not like that position. that position he assails. it was mannhardt's, however, when he wrote the book quoted, and, so far, mannhardt was _not_ absolutely one of mr. max muller's 'supporters'--unless i am one. 'i have even been accused,' says mr. max muller, 'of intentionally ignoring or suppressing mannhardt's labours. how charitable!' ( . xvii.) i trust, from our author's use of the word todtschweigen, that this uncharitable charge was made in germany. mannhardt mannhardt, for a time, says mr. max muller, 'expressed his mistrust in some of the results of comparative mythology' ( . xvii.). indeed, i myself quote him to that very effect. { b} not only '_some_ of the results,' but the philological method itself was distrusted by mannhardt, as by curtius. 'the failure of the method in its practical working lies in a lack of the historical sense,' says mannhardt. { c} mr. max muller may have, probably has, referred to these sayings of mannhardt; or, if he has not, no author is obliged to mention everybody who disagrees with him. mannhardt's method was mainly that of folklore, not of philology. he examined peasant customs and rites as 'survivals' of the oldest paganism. mr. frazer applies mannhardt's rich lore to the explanation of greek and other rites in the golden bough, that entrancing book. such was mannhardt's position (as i shall prove at large) when he was writing his most famous works. but he 'returned at last to his old colours' ( . xvii.) in die lettischen sonnenmythen ( ). in mannhardt died. mr. max muller does not say whether mannhardt, before a decease deeply regretted, recanted his heretical views about the philological method, and his expressed admiration of the study of the lower races as 'an invaluable instrument.' one would gladly read a recantation so important. but mr. max muller does tell us that 'if i did not refer to his work in my previous contributions to the science of mythology the reason was simple enough. it was not, as has been suggested, my wish to suppress it (todtschweigen), but simply my want of knowledge of the materials with which he dealt' (german popular customs and traditions) 'and therefore the consciousness of my incompetence to sit in judgment on his labours.' again, we are told that there was no need of criticism or praise of mannhardt. he had mr. frazer as his prophet--but not till ten years after his death. mannhardt's letters 'mannhardt's state of mind with regard to the general principles of comparative philology has been so exactly my own,' says mr. max muller, that he cites mannhardt's letters to prove the fact. but as to the _application_ to myth of the principles of comparative philology, mannhardt speaks of 'the lack of the historical sense' displayed in the practical employment of the method. this, at least, is 'not exactly' mr. max muller's own view. probably he refers to the later period when mannhardt 'returned to his old colours.' the letters of mannhardt, cited in proof of his exact agreement with mr. max muller about comparative philology, do not, as far as quoted, mention the subject of comparative philology at all ( . xviii-xx.). possibly 'philology' is here a slip of the pen, and 'mythology' may be meant. mannhardt says to mullenhoff (may , ) that he has been uneasy 'at the extent which sun myths threaten to assume in my comparisons.' he is opening 'a new point of view;' materials rush in, 'so that the sad danger seemed inevitable of everything becoming everything.' in mr. max muller's own words, written long ago, _he_ expressed his dread, not of 'everything becoming everything' (a truly heraclitean state of affairs), but of the 'omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn appearing in ever so many disguises.' 'have we not,' he asks, 'arrived both at the same conclusion?' really, i do not know! had mannhardt quite cashiered 'the corn-spirit,' who, perhaps, had previously threatened to 'become everything'? he is still in great vigour, in mr. frazer's golden bough, and mr. frazer is mannhardt's disciple. but where, all this time, is there a reference by mannhardt to 'the general principles of comparative philology'? where does he accept 'the omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn'? why, he says the reverse; he says in this letter that he is immeasurably removed from accepting them at all as mr. max muller accepts them! 'i am very far from looking upon all myths as psychical reflections of physical phenomena, still less as of exclusively solar or meteorological phenomena, like kuhn, schwartz, max muller and their school.' what a queer way of expressing his agreement with mr. max muller! the professor expostulates with mannhardt ( . xx.):--'where has any one of us ever done this?' well, when mannhardt said '_all_ myths,' he wrote colloquially. shall we say that he meant 'most myths,' 'a good many myths,' 'a myth or two here and there'? whatever he meant, he meant that he was 'still more than very far removed from looking upon all myths' as mr. max muller does. mannhardt's next passage i quote entire and textually from mr. max muller's translation:-- 'i have learnt to appreciate poetical and literary production as an essential element in the development of mythology, and to draw and utilise the consequences arising from this state of things. [who has not?] but, on the other hand, i hold it as quite certain that a portion of the older myths arose from nature poetry which is no longer directly intelligible to us, but has to be interpreted by means of analogies. nor does it follow that these myths betray any historical identity; they only testify to the same kind of conception and tendency prevailing on similar stages of development. of these nature myths some have reference to the life and the circumstances of the sun, and our first steps towards an understanding of them are helped on by such nature poetry as the lettish, which has not yet been obscured by artistic and poetical reflexion. in that poetry mythical personalities confessedly belonging to a solar sphere are transferred to a large number of poetical representatives, of which the explanation must consequently be found in the same (solar) sphere of nature. my method here is just the same as that applied by me to the tree-cult.' mr. max muller asks, 'where is there any difference between this, the latest and final system adopted by mannhardt, and my own system which i put forward in ?' ( . xxi.) how mannhardt differs from mr. max muller i propose to show wherein the difference lies. mannhardt says, 'my method is just the same as that applied by me to the tree-cult.' what was _that_ method? mannhardt, in the letter quoted by mr. max muller, goes on to describe it; but mr. max muller omits the description, probably not realising its importance. for mannhardt's method is the reverse of that practised under the old colours to which he is said to have returned. mannhardt's method 'my method is here the same as in the tree-cult. i start from a given collection of facts, of which the central idea is distinct and generally admitted, and consequently offers a firm basis for explanation. i illustrate from this and from well-founded analogies. continuing from these, i seek to elucidate darker things. i search out the simplest radical ideas and perceptions, the germ-cells from whose combined growth mythical tales form themselves in very different ways.' mr. frazer gives us a similar description of mannhardt's method, whether dealing with sun myths or tree myths. { } 'mannhardt set himself systematically to collect, compare, and explain the living superstitions of the peasantry.' now mr. max muller has just confessed, as a reason for incompetence to criticise mannhardt's labours, 'my want of knowledge of the materials with which he dealt--the popular customs and traditions of germany.' and yet he asks where there is any difference between his system and mannhardt's. mannhardt's is the study of rural survival, the system of folklore. mr. max muller's is the system of comparative philology about which in this place mannhardt does not say one single word. mannhardt interprets some myths 'arising from nature poetry, no longer intelligible to us,' by _analogies_; mr. max muller interprets them by _etymologies_. the difference is incalculable; not that mannhardt always abstains from etymologising. another claim on mannhardt while maintaining that 'all comparative mythology must rest on comparison of names as its most certain basis' (a system which mannhardt declares explicitly to be so far 'a failure'), mr. max muller says, 'it is well known that in his last, nay posthumous essay, mannhardt, no mean authority, returned to the same conviction.' i do not know which is mannhardt's very last essay, but i shall prove that in the posthumous essays mannhardt threw cold water on the whole method of philological comparative mythology. however, as proof of mannhardt's return to mr. max muller's convictions, our author cites mythologische forschungen (pp. - ). what mannhardt said in the passages here produced as proof of mannhardt's conversion, he is not investigating a myth at all, or a name which occurs in mythology. he is trying to discover the meaning of the practices of the lupercalia at rome. in february, says dionysius of halicarnassus, the romans held a popular festival, and lads ran round naked, save for skins of victims, whipping the spectators. mannhardt, in his usual way, collects all the facts first, and then analyses the name luperci. this does not make him a philological mythologist. to take a case in point, at selkirk and queensferry the bounds are ridden, or walked, by 'burleymen' or 'burrymen.' { } after examining the facts we examine the words, and ask, 'why burley or burry men?' at queensferry, by a folk etymology, one of the lads wears a coat stuck over with burrs. but 'borough-men' seems the probable etymology. as we examine the names burley, or burry men, so mannhardt examines the name luperci; and if a true etymology can be discovered, it will illustrate the original intention of the lupercalia (p. ). he would like to explain the lupercalia as a popular play, representing the spirits of vegetation opposing the spirits of infertility. 'but we do not forget that our whole theory of the development of the rite rests on a hypothesis which the lack of materials prevents us from demonstrating.' he would explain luperci as lupiherci--'wolf-goats.' over this we need not linger; but how does all this prove mannhardt to have returned to the method of comparing greek with vedic divine names, and arriving thence at some celestial phenomenon as the basis of a terrestrial myth? yet he sometimes does this. my relations to mannhardt if anything could touch and move an unawakened anthropologist it would be the conversion of mannhardt. my own relations with his ideas have the interest of illustrating mental coincidences. his name does not occur, i think, in the essay, 'the method of folklore,' in the first edition of my custom and myth. in that essay i take, as an example of the method, the scottish and northumbrian kernababy, the puppet made out of the last gleanings of harvest. this i compared to the greek demeter of the harvest-home, with sheaves and poppies in her hands, in the immortal seventh idyll of theocritus. our kernababy, i said, is a stunted survival of our older 'maiden,' 'a regular image of the harvest goddess,' and i compared [greek]. next i gave the parallel case from ancient peru, and the odd accidental coincidence that _there_ the maize was styled mama cora ([greek]!). in entire ignorance of mannhardt's corn-spirit, or corn-mother, i was following mannhardt's track. indeed, mr. max muller has somewhere remarked that i popularise mannhardt's ideas. naturally he could not guess that the coincidence was accidental and also inevitable. two men, unknown to each other, were using the same method on the same facts. mannhardt's return to his old colours if, then, mannhardt was re-converted, it would be a potent argument for my conversion. but one is reminded of the re-conversion of prince charles. in he 'deserted the errors of the church of rome for those of the church of england.' later he returned, or affected to return, to the ancient faith. a certain cardinal seemed contented therewith, and, as the historian remarks, 'was clearly a man not difficult to please.' mr. max muller reminds me of the good cardinal. i do not feel so satisfied as he does of mannhardt's re-conversion. mannhardt's attitude to philology we have heard mannhardt, in a letter partly cited by mr. max muller, describe his own method. he begins with what is certain and intelligible, a mass of popular customs. these he explains by analogies. he passes from the known to the obscure. philological mythologists begin with the unknown, the name of a god. this they analyse, extract a meaning, and (proceeding to the known) fit the facts of the god's legend into the sense of his name. the methods are each other's opposites, yet the letter in which mannhardt illustrates this fact is cited as a proof of his return to his old colours. irritating conduct of mannhardt nothing irritates philological mythologists so much, nothing has injured them so much in the esteem of the public which 'goes into these things a little,' as the statement that their competing etymologies and discrepant interpretations of mythical names are mutually destructive. i have been told that this is 'a mean argument.' but if one chemical analyst found bismuth where another found iridium, and a third found argon, the public would begin to look on chemistry without enthusiasm; still more so if one chemist rarely found anything but inevitable bismuth or omnipresent iridium. now mannhardt uses this 'mean argument.' mannhardt on demeter erinnys in a posthumous work, mythologische forschungen ( ), the work from which mr. max muller cites the letter to mullenhoff, mannhardt discusses demeter erinnys. she is the arcadian goddess, who, in the form of a mare, became mother of despoina and the horse arion, by poseidon. { a} her anger at the unhandsome behaviour of poseidon caused demeter to be called erinnys--'to be angry' being [greek] in arcadian--a folk-etymology, clearly. mannhardt first dives deep into the sources for this fable. { b} arion, he decides, is no mythological personification, but a poetical ideal (bezeichnung) of the war-horse. legend is ransacked for proof of this. poseidon is the lord of wind and wave. now, there are waves of corn, under the wind, as well as waves of the sea. when the suabian rustic sees the wave running over the corn, he says, da lauft das pferd, and greeks before homer would say, in face of the billowing corn, [greek], there run horses! and homer himself { c} says that the horses of erichthonius, children of boreas, ran over cornfield and sea. we ourselves speak of sea-waves as 'white horses.' so, to be brief, mannhardt explains the myth of demeter erinnys becoming, as a mare, a mother by poseidon as a horse, thus, 'poseidon hippies, or poseidon in horse's form, rushes through the growing grain and weds demeter,' and he cites peasant proverbs, such as das korn heirathet; das korn feiert hochzeit (p. ). 'this is the germ of the arcadian saga.' 'the arcadian myth of demeter erinnys is undeniably a blending of the epic tradition [of the ideal war-horse] with the local cult of demeter. . . . it is a probable hypothesis that the belief in the wedding of demeter and poseidon comes from the sight of the waves passing over the cornfield. . . .' { } it is very neat! but a certain myth of loki in horse-form comes into memory, and makes me wonder how mannhardt would have dealt with that too liberal narrative. loki, as a mare (he being a male god), became, by the horse of a giant, the father of sleipnir, odin's eight-footed steed. mr. w. a. craigie supplies this note on loki's analogy with poseidon, as a horse, in the waves of corn:-- 'in north jutland, when the vapours are seen going with a wavy motion along the earth in the heat of summer, they say, "loki is sowing oats today," or "loki is driving his goats." 'n.b.--oats in danish are havre, which suggests o.n. hafrar, goats. modern icelandic has hafrar=oats, but the word is not found in the old language.' is loki a corn-spirit? mannhardt's 'mean argument' mannhardt now examines the explanations of demeter erinnys, and her legend, given by preller, e. curtius, o. muller, a. kuhn, w. sonne, max muller, e. burnouf, de gubernatis, schwartz, and h. d. muller. 'here,' he cries, 'is a variegated list of hypotheses!' demeter is storm-cloud sun goddess earth and moon goddess dawn night. poseidon is sea storm god cloud-hidden sun rain god. despoina is rain thunder moon. arion, the horse, is lightning sun thunder-horse. erinnys is storm-cloud red dawn. mannhardt decides, after this exhibition of guesses, that the demeter legends cannot be explained as refractions of any natural phenomena in the heavens (p. ). he concludes that the myth of demeter erinnys, and the parallel vedic story of saranyu (who also had an amour as a mare), are 'incongruous,' and that neither sheds any light on the other. he protests against the whole tendency to find prototypes of all aryan myths in the veda, and to think that, with a few exceptions, all mythology is a terrestrial reflection of celestial phenomena (p. ). he then goes into the contending etymologies of demeter, and decides ('for the man was mortal and had been a' philologer) in favour of his own guess, [greek]+[greek]='corn-mother' (p. ). this essay on demeter was written by mannhardt in the summer of , a year after the letter which is given as evidence that he had 'returned to his old colours.' the essay shows him using the philological string of 'variegated hypotheses' as anything but an argument in favour of the philological method. on the other hand, he warns us against the habit, so common in the philological school, of looking for prototypes of all aryan myths in the veda, and of finding in most myths a reflection on earth of phenomena in the heavens, erinnys being either storm-cloud or dawn, according to the taste and fancy of the inquirer. we also find mannhardt, in , starting from the known--legend and rural survival in phrase and custom--and so advancing to the unknown--the name demeter. the philologists commence with the unknown, the old name, demeter erinnys, explain it to taste, and bring the legend into harmony with their explanation. i cannot say, then, that i share mr. max muller's impression. i do not feel sure that mannhardt did return to his old colours. why mannhardt is thought to have been converted mannhardt's friend, mullenhoff, had an aversion to solar myths. he said: { } 'i deeply mistrust all these combinations of the new so-called comparative mythology.' mannhardt was preparing to study lithuanian solar myths, based on lithuanian and lettish marriage songs. mullenhoff and scherer seem to have thought this work too solar for their taste. mannhardt therefore replied to their objections in the letter quoted in part by mr. max muller. mannhardt was not the man to neglect or suppress solar myths when he found them, merely because he did not believe that a great many other myths which had been claimed as celestial were solar. like every sensible person, he knew that there are numerous real, obvious, confessed solar myths _not_ derived from a disease of language. these arise from ( ) the impulse to account for the doings of the sun by telling a story about him as if he were a person; ( ) from the natural poetry of the human mind. { } what we think they are _not_ shown to arise from is forgetfulness of meanings of old words, which, ex hypothesi, have become proper names. that is the theory of the philological school, and to that theory, to these colours, i see no proof (in the evidence given) that mannhardt had returned. but 'the scalded child dreads cold water,' and mullenhoff apparently dreaded even real solar myths. mr. max muller, on the other hand (if i do not misinterpret him), supposes that mannhardt had returned to the philological method, partly because he was interested in _real_ solar myths and in the natural poetry of illiterate races. mannhardt's final confession mannhardt's last work published in his life days was antike wald- und feldkulte ( ). in the preface, dated november , (_after_ the famous letter of may ), he explains the growth of his views and criticises his predecessors. after doing justice to kuhn and his comparisons of european with indian myths, he says that, in his opinion, comparative indo-germanic mythology has not yet borne the expected fruits. 'the _assured_ gains shrink into very few divine names, such as dyaus--zeus--tius, parjany--perkunas, bhaga--bug, varuna--uranus, &c.' i wish he had completed the list included in &c. other equations, as sarameya=hermeias, saranyu=demeter erinnys, he fears will not stand close criticism. he dreads that jeux d'esprit (geistvolle spiele des witzes) may once more encroach on science. then, after a lucid statement of mr. max muller's position, he says, 'ich vermag dem von m. muller aufgestellten principe, wenn uberhaupt eine, so doch nur eine sehr beschrankte geltung zuzugestehen.' 'to the principle of max muller i can only assign a very limited value, if any value at all.' { } 'taken all in all, i consider the greater part of the results hitherto obtained in the field of indo-germanic comparative mythology to be, as yet, a failure, premature or incomplete, my own efforts in german myths ( ) included. that i do not, however, "throw out the babe with the bath," as the proverb goes, my essay on lettish sun myths in bastian-hartmann's ethnological journal will bear witness.' such is mannhardt's conclusion. taken in connection with his still later essay on demeter, it really leaves no room for doubt. there, i think, he does 'throw out the child with the bath,' throw the knife after the handle. i do not suppose that mr. max muller ever did quote mannhardt as one of his supporters, but such a claim, if really made, would obviously give room for criticism. mannhardt on solar myths what the attitude of mannhardt was, in and later, we have seen. he disbelieves in the philological system of explaining myths by etymological conjectures. he disbelieves in the habit of finding, in myths of terrestrial occurrences, reflections of celestial phenomena. but earlier, in his long essay die lettischen sonnenmythen (in zeitschrift fur ethnologie, ), he examines the lettish popular songs about the sun, the sun's daughters, the god-sons, and so forth. here, of course, he is dealing with popular songs explicitly devoted to solar phenomena, in their poetical aspect. in the lettish sun-songs and sun-myths of the peasants we see, he says, a myth-world 'in process of becoming,' in an early state of development, as in the veda (p. ). but, we may reply, in the veda, myths are already full-grown, or even decadent. already there are unbelievers in the myths. thus we would say, in the veda we have ( ) myths of nature, formed in the remote past, and ( ) poetical phrases about heavenly phenomena, which resemble the nature-poetry of the letts, but which do not become full-grown myths. the lett songs, also, have not developed into myths, of which (as in the apollo and daphne story, by mr. max muller's hypothesis) _the original meaning is lost_. in the lett songs we have a mass of nature-pictures--the boat and the apples of the sun, the red cloak hung on the oak-tree, and so on; pictures by which it is sought to make elemental phenomena intelligible, by comparison with familiar things. behind the phenomena are, in popular belief, personages--mythical personages--the sun as 'a magnified non-natural man,' or woman; the sun's mother, daughters, and other heavenly people. their conduct is 'motived' in a human way. stories are told about them: the sun kills the moon, who revives. all this is perfectly familiar everywhere. savages, in their fables, account for solar, lunar, and similar elemental processes, on the theory that the heavenly bodies are, and act like, human beings. the eskimo myth of the spots on the moon, marks of ashes thrown by the sun in a love- quarrel, is an excellent example. but in all this there is no 'disease of language.' these are frank nature-myths, 'aetiological,' giving a fabulous reason for facts of nature. mannhardt on marchen. but mannhardt goes farther. he not only recognises, as everyone must do, the sun, as explicitly named, when he plays his part in myth, or popular tale (marchen). he thinks that even when the sun is not named, his presence, and reference to him, and derivation of the incidents in marchen from solar myth, may sometimes be detected with great probability (pp. , ). but he adds, 'not that every marchen contains a reference to nature; that i am far from asserting' (p. ). now perhaps nobody will deny that some incidents in marchen may have been originally suggested by nature-myths. the all-swallowing and all-disgorging beast, wolf, or ogre, may have been derived from a view of night as the all-swallower. but to disengage natural phenomena, mythically stated, from the human tangle of marchen, to find natural phenomena in such a palimpsest as perrault's courtly and artificial version of a french popular tale, is a delicate and dangerous task. in many stories a girl has three balls--one of silver, one of gold, one of diamond--which she offers, in succession, as bribes. this is a perfectly natural invention. it is perilous to connect these balls, gifts of ascending value, with the solar apple of iron, silver, and gold (p. and note ). it is perilous, and it is quite unnecessary. some one--gubernatis, i think--has explained the naked sword of aladdin, laid between him and the sultan's daughter in bed, as the silver sickle of the moon. really the sword has an obvious purpose and meaning, and is used as a symbol in proxy-marriages. the blood shed by achilles in his latest victories is elsewhere explained as red clouds round the setting sun, which is conspicuously childish. mannhardt leans, at least, in this direction. 'the two brothers' mannhardt takes the old egyptian tale of 'the two brothers,' bitiou and anepou. this fable, as old, in actual written literature, as moses, is a complex of half the marchen plots and incidents in the world. it opens with the formula of potiphar's wife. the falsely accused brother flies, and secretes his life, or separable soul, in a flower of the mystic vale of acacias. this affair of the separable soul may be studied in mr. hartland's perseus, and it animates, as we shall see, mr. frazer's theory of the origin of totemism. a golden lock of the wicked wife's hair is then borne by the nile to the king's palace in egypt. he will insist on marrying the lady of the lock. here we are in the cinderella formula, en plein, which may be studied, in african and santhal shapes, in miss coxe's valuable cinderella. { } pharaoh's wise men decide that the owner of the lock of hair is (like egyptian royalty at large) a daughter of the sun-god (p. ). here is the sun, in all his glory; but here we are dealing with a literary version of the marchen, accommodated to royal tastes and egyptian ideas of royalty by a royal scribe, the courtly perrault of the egyptian roi-soleil. who can say what he introduced?--while we _can_ say that the sun-god is absent in south african and santhal and other variants. the sun may have slipped out here, may have been slipped in there; the faintest glimmer of the historical sense prevents us from dogmatising. wedded to pharaoh, the wicked wife, pursuing her vengeance on bitiou, cuts down his life-tree. anepou, his brother, however, recovers his concealed heart (life), and puts it in water. bitiou revives. he changes himself into the sacred bull, apis--a feature in the story which is practically possible in egypt alone. the bull tells the king his story, but the wicked wife has the bull slain, as by cambyses in herodotus. two of his blood-drops become two persea trees. one of them confesses the fact to the wicked wife. she has them cut down; a chip flies into her mouth, she becomes a mother by the chip, the boy (bitiou) again becomes king, and slays his mother, the wicked wife. in the tree, any tree, acacia or persea, mannhardt wishes to recognise the sun-tree of the lett songs. the red blossoms of the persea tree are a symbol of the sun-tree: of horus. he compares features, not always very closely analogous, in european marchen. for example, a girl hides in a tree, like charles ii. at boscobel. that is not really analogous with bitiou's separable life in the acacia! 'anepou' is like 'anapu,' anubis. the bull is the sun, is osiris--dead in winter. mr. frazer, mannhardt's disciple, protests a grands cris against these identifications when made by others than mannhardt, who says, 'the marchen is an old obscure solar myth' (p. ). to others the story of bitiou seems an egyptian literary complex, based on a popular set of tales illustrating furens quid femina possit, and illustrating the world- wide theory of the separable life, dragging in formulas from other marchen, and giving to all a thoroughly classical egyptian colouring. { a} solar myths, we think, have not necessarily anything to make in the matter. the golden fleece mannhardt reasons in much the same way about the golden fleece. this is a peculiarly greek feature, interwoven with the world-wide marchen of the lad, the giant's helpful daughter, her aid in accomplishing feats otherwise impossible, and the pursuit of the pair by the father. i have studied the story--as it occurs in samoa, among red indian tribes, and elsewhere--in 'a far-travelled tale.' { b} in our late greek versions the quest of the fleece of gold occurs, but in no other variants known to me. there is a lamb (a boy changed into a lamb) in romaic. his fleece is of no interest to anybody. out of his body grows a tree with a golden apple. sun-yarns occur in popular songs. mannhardt (pp. , ) abounds in solar explanations of the fleece of gold, hanging on the oak- tree in the dark aeaean forest. idyia, wife of the colchian king, 'is clearly the dawn.' aia is the isle of the sun. helle=surya, a sanskrit sun-goddess; the golden ram off whose back she falls, while her brother keeps his seat, is the sun. her brother, phrixus, may be the daylight. the oak-tree in colchis is the sun-tree of the lettish songs. perseus is a hero of light, born in the dark tower (night) from the shower of gold (sun-rays). 'we can but say "it may be so,"' but who could explain all the complex perseus-saga as a statement about elemental phenomena? or how can the far-travelled tale of the lad and the giant's daughter be interpreted to the same effect, above all in the countless examples where no fleece of gold occurs? the greek tale of jason is made up of several marchen, as is the odyssey, by epic poets. these marchen have no necessary connection with each other; they are tagged on to each other, and localised in greece and on the euxine. { a} a poetic popular view of the sun may have lent the peculiar, and elsewhere absent, incident of the quest of the fleece of gold on the shores of the black sea. the old epic poets may have borrowed from popular songs like the lettish chants (p. ). a similar dubious adhesion may be given by us in the case of castor and polydeuces (morning and evening stars?), and helen (dawn), { b} and the hesperides (p. ). the germs of the myths _may_ be popular poetical views of elemental phenomena. but to insist on elemental allegories through all the legends of the dioskouroi, and of the trojan war, would be to strain a hypothesis beyond the breaking-point. much, very much, is epic invention, unverkennbar das werk der dichter (p. ). mannhardt's approach to mr. max muller in this essay on lettish sun-songs ( ) mannhardt comes nearest to mr. max muller. he cites passages from him with approval (cf. pp. , ). his explanations, by aid of sun-songs, of certain features in greek mythology are plausible, and may be correct. but we turn to mannhardt's explicit later statement of his own position in , and to his posthumous essays, published in ; and, on the whole, we find, in my opinion, much more difference from than agreement with the oxford professor, whose dawn-daphne and other equations mannhardt dismisses, and to whose general results (in mythology) he assigns a value so restricted. it is a popular delusion that the anthropological mythologists deny the existence of solar myths, or of nature-myths in general. these are extremely common. what we demur to is the explanation of divine and heroic myths at large as solar or elemental, when the original sense has been lost by the ancient narrators, and when the elemental explanation rests on conjectural and conflicting etymologies and interpretations of old proper names--athene, hera, artemis, and the rest. nevertheless, while mannhardt, in his works on tree-cult, and on field and wood cult, and on the 'corn demon,' has wandered far from 'his old colours'--while in his posthumous essays he is even more of a deserter, his essay on lettish sun-myths shows an undeniable tendency to return to mr. max muller's camp. this was what made his friends so anxious. it is probably wisest to form our opinion of his final attitude on his preface to his last book published in his life-time. in that the old colours are not exactly his chosen banner; nor can the flag of the philological school be inscribed tandem triumphans. in brief, mannhardt's return to his old colours ( - ) seems to have been made in a mood from which he again later passed away. but either modern school of mythology may cite him as an ally in one or other of his phases of opinion. philology and demeter erinnys mr. max muller on demeter erinnys. like mannhardt, our author in his new treatise discusses the strange old arcadian myth of the horse-demeter erinnys (ii. ). he tells the unseemly tale, and asks why the earth goddess became a mare? then he gives the analogous myth from the rig-veda, { } which, as it stands, is 'quite unintelligible.' but yaska explains that saranyu, daughter of tvashtri, in the form of a mare, had twins by vivasvat, in the shape of a stallion. their offspring were the asvins, who are more or less analogous in their helpful character to castor and pollux. now, can it be by accident that saranyu in the veda is erinnys in greek? to this 'equation,' as we saw, mannhardt demurred in . who was saranyu? yaska says 'the night;' that was yaska's idea. mr. max muller adds, 'i think he is right,' and that saranyu is 'the grey dawn' (ii. ). 'but,' the bewildered reader exclaims, 'dawn is one thing and night is quite another.' so yaska himself was intelligent enough to observe, 'night is the wife of aditya; she vanishes at sunrise.' however, night in mr. max muller's system 'has just got to be' dawn, a position proved thus: 'yaska makes this clear by saying that the time of the asvins, sons of saranyu, is after midnight,' but that 'when darkness prevails over light, that is madhyama; when light prevails over darkness, that is aditya,' both being asvins. they (the asvins) are, in fact, darkness and light; and _therefore_, i understand, saranyu, who is night, and not an asvin at all, is dawn! to make this perfectly clear, remember that the husband of saranyu, whom she leaves at sunrise, is--i give you three guesses--is the sun! the sun's wife leaves the sun at sunrise. { } this is proved, for aditya is vivasvat=the sun, and is the husband of saranyu (ii. ). these methods of proving night to be dawn, while the substitute for both in the bed of the sun 'may have been meant for the gloaming' (ii. ), do seem to be geistvolle spiele des witzes, ingenious jeux d'esprit, as mannhardt says, rather than logical arguments. but we still do not know how the horse and mare came in, or why the statue of demeter had a horse's head. 'this seems simply to be due to the fact that, quite apart from this myth, the sun had, in india at least, often been conceived as a horse . . . . and the dawn had been likened to a mare.' but how does this explain the problem? the vedic poets cited (ii. ) either referred to the myth which we have to explain, or they used a poetical expression, knowing perfectly well what they meant. as long as they knew what they meant, they could not make an unseemly fable out of a poetical phrase. not till after the meaning was forgotten could the myth arise. but the myth existed already in the veda! and the unseemliness is precisely what we have to account for; that is our enigma. once more, demeter is a goddess of earth, not of dawn. how, then, does the explanation of a hypothetical dawn-myth apply to the earth? well, perhaps the story, the unseemly story, was first told of erinnys (who also is 'the inevitable dawn') or of deo, 'and this name of deo, or dyava, was mixed up with a hypokoristic form of demeter, deo, and thus led to the transference of her story to demeter. i know this will sound very unlikely to greek scholars, yet i see no other way out of our difficulties' (ii. ). phonetic explanations follow. 'to my mind,' says our author, 'there is no chapter in mythology in which we can so clearly read the transition of an auroral myth of the veda into an epic chapter of greece as in the chapter of saranyu (or surama) and the asvins, ending in the chapter of helena and her brothers, the [greek]' (ii. ). here, as regards the asvins and the dioskouroi, mannhardt may be regarded as mr. max muller's ally; but compare his note, a. f. u. w. k. p. xx. my theory of the horse demeter mannhardt, i think, ought to have tried at an explanation of myths so closely analogous as those two, one indian, one greek, in which a goddess, in the shape of a mare, becomes mother of twins by a god in the form of a stallion. as mr. max muller well says, 'if we look about for analogies we find nothing, as far as i know, corresponding to the well- marked features of this barbarous myth among any of the uncivilised tribes of the earth. if we did, how we should rejoice! why, then, should we not rejoice when we find the allusion in rig veda?' (x , ). i do rejoice! the 'song of triumph,' as professor tiele says, will be found in m. r. r. ii. (note), where i give the vedic and other references. i even asked why mr. max muller did not produce this proof of the identity of saranyu and demeter erinnys in his selected essays (pp. , ). i cannot explain why this tale was told both of erinnys and of saranyu. granting the certainty of the etymological equation, saranyu=erinnys (which mannhardt doubted), the chances against fortuitous coincidence may be reckoned by algebra, and mr. edgeworth's trillions of trillions feebly express it. two goddesses, indian and greek, have, ex hypothesi, the same name, and both, as mares, are mothers of twins. though the twins (in india the asvins, in greek an ideal war-horse and a girl) differ in character, still the coincidence is evidential. explain it i cannot, and, clearly as the confession may prove my lack of scientific exactness, i make it candidly. if i must offer a guess, it is that greeks, and indians of india, inherited a very ordinary savage idea. the gods in savage myths are usually beasts. as beasts they beget anthropomorphic offspring. this is the regular rule in totemism. in savage myths we are not told 'a god' (apollo, or zeus, or poseidon) 'put on beast shape and begat human sons and daughters' (helen, the telmisseis, and so on). the god in savage myths was a beast already, though he could, of course, shift shapes like any 'medicine-man,' or modern witch who becomes a hare. this is not the exception but the rule in savage mythology. anyone can consult my myth, ritual, and religion, or mr. frazer's work totemism, for abundance of evidence. to loki, a male god, prosecuting his amours as a female horse, i have already alluded, and in m. r. r. give cases from the satapatha brahmana. the saranyu-erinnys myth dates, i presume, from this savage state of fancy; but why the story occurred both in greece and india, i protest that i cannot pretend to explain, except on the hypothesis that the ancestors of greek and vedic peoples once dwelt together, had a common stock of savage fables, and a common or kindred language. after their dispersion, the fables admitted discrepancies, as stories in oral circulation occasionally do. this is the only conjecture which i feel justified in suggesting to account for the resemblances and incongruities between the myths of the mare demeter-erinnys and the mare saranyu. totemism totemism to the strange and widely diffused institution of 'totemism' our author often returns. i shall deal here with his collected remarks on the theme, the more gladly as the treatment shows how very far mr. max muller is from acting with a shadow of unfairness when he does not refer to special passages in his opponent's books. he treats himself and his own earlier works in the same fashion, thereby, perhaps, weakening his argument, but also demonstrating his candour, were any such demonstration required. on totems he opens (i. )-- 'when we come to special cases we must not imagine that much can be gained by using such general terms as animism, totemism, fetishism, &c., as solvents of mythological problems. to my mind, all such general terms, not excluding even darwinism or puseyism, seem most objectionable, because they encourage vague thought, vague praise, or vague blame. 'it is, for instance, quite possible to place all worship of animal gods, all avoidance of certain kinds of animal food, all adoption of animal names as the names of men and families, under the wide and capacious cover of totemism. all theriolatry would thus be traced back to totemism. i am not aware, however, that any egyptologists have adopted such a view to account for the animal forms of the egyptian gods. sanskrit scholars would certainly hesitate before seeing in indra a totem because he is called vrishabha, or bull, or before attempting to explain on this ground the abstaining from beef on the part of orthodox hindus [i. ].' totemism defined i think i have defined totemism, { } and the reader may consult mr. frazer's work on the subject, or mr. maclennan's essays, or 'totemism' in the encyclopaedia britannica. however, i shall define totemism once more. it is a state of society and cult, found most fully developed in australia and north america, in which sets of persons, believing themselves to be akin by blood, call each such set by the name of some plant, beast, or other class of objects in nature. one kin may be wolves, another bears, another cranes, and so on. each kin derives its kin-name from its beast, plant, or what not; pays to it more or less respect, usually abstains from killing, eating, or using it (except in occasional sacrifices); is apt to claim descent from or relationship with it, and sometimes uses its effigy on memorial pillars, carved pillars outside huts, tattooed on the skin, and perhaps in other ways not known to me. in australia and north america, where rules are strict, a man may not marry a woman of his own totem; and kinship is counted through mothers in many, but not in all, cases. where all these notes are combined we have totemism. it is plain that two or three notes of it may survive where the others have perished; may survive in ritual and sacrifice, { a} and in bestial or semi-bestial gods of certain nomes, or districts, in ancient egypt; { b} in pictish names; { c} in claims of descent from beasts, or gods in the shape of beasts; in the animals sacred to gods, as apollo or artemis, and so on. such survivals are possible enough in evolution, but the evidence needs careful examination. animal attributes and symbols and names in religion are not necessarily totemistic. mr. max muller asks if 'any egyptologists have adopted' the totem theory. he is apparently oblivious of professor sayce's reference to a prehistoric age, 'when the religious creed of egypt was still totemism.' dr. codrington is next cited for the apparent absence of totemism in the solomon islands and polynesia, and professor oldenberg as denying that 'animal names of persons and clans [necessarily?] imply totemism.' who says that they do? 'clan chattan,' with its cat crest, may be based, not on a totem, but on a popular etymology. animal names of _individuals_ have nothing to do with totems. a man has no business to write on totemism if he does not know these facts. what a totem is though our adversary now abandons totems, he returns to them elsewhere (i. - ). 'totem is the corruption of a term used by north american indians in the sense of clan-mark or sign-board ("ododam").' the totem was originally a rude emblem of an animal or other object 'placed by north american indians in front of their settlements.' the evidence for sign-boards our author's evidence for sign-boards is from an ottawa indian, and is published from his ms. by mr. hoskyns abrahall. { } the testimony is of the greatest merit, for it appears to have first seen the light in a canadian paper of . now in totems were only spoken of in lafitau, long, and such old writers, and in cooper's novels. they had not become subjects of scientific dispute, so the evidence is uncontaminated by theory. the indians were, we learn, divided into [local?] tribes, and these 'into sections or families according to their ododams'--devices, signs, in modern usage 'coats of arms.' [perhaps 'crests' would be a better word.] all people of one ododam (apparently under male kinship) lived together in a special section of each village. at the entrance to the enclosure was the figure of an animal, or some other sign, set up on the top of one of the posts. thus everybody knew what family dwelt in what section of the village. some of the families were called after their ododam. but the family with the bear ododam were called big feet, not bears. sometimes parts of different animals were 'quartered' [my suggestion], and one ododam was a small hawk and the fins of a sturgeon. we cannot tell, of course, on the evidence here, whether 'big feet' suggested 'bear,' or vice versa, or neither. but mr. frazer has remarked that periphrases for sacred beasts, like 'big feet' for bear, are not uncommon. nor can we tell 'what couple of ancestors' a small hawk and a sturgeon's fins represent, unless, perhaps, a hawk and a sturgeon. { a} for all this, mr. max muller suggests the explanation that people who marked their abode with crow or wolf might come to be called wolves or crows. { b} again, people might borrow beast names from the prevalent beast of their district, as arkades, [greek], bears, and so evolve the myth of descent from callisto as a she-bear. 'all this, however, is only guesswork.' the snake indians worship no snake. [the snake indians are not a totem group, but a local tribe named from the snake river, as we say, 'an ettrick man.'] once more, the name-giving beast, say, 'great hare,' is explained by dr. brinton as 'the inevitable dawn.' { c} 'hasty writers,' remarks dr. brinton, 'say that the indians claim descent from different wild beasts.' for evidence i refer to that hasty writer, mr. frazer, and his book, totemism. for a newly sprung up modern totem our author alludes to a boat, among the mandans, 'their totem, or tutelary object of worship.' an object of worship, of course, is not necessarily a totem! nor is a totem by the definition (as a rule one of a _class_ of objects) anything but a _natural_ object. mr. max muller wishes that 'those who write about totems and totemism would tell us exactly what they mean by these words.' i have told him, and indicated better sources. i apply the word totemism to the widely diffused savage institution which i have defined. more about totems the origin of totemism is unknown to me, as to mr. mclennan and dr. robertson smith, but mr. max muller knows this origin. 'a totem is a clan-mark, then a clan-name, then the name of the ancestor of a clan, and lastly the name of something worshipped by a clan' (i. ). 'all this applies in the first instance to red indians only.' yes, and 'clan' applies in the first instance to the scottish clans only! when mr. max muller speaks of 'clans' among the red indians, he uses a word whose connotation differs from anything known to exist in america. but the analogy between a scottish clan and an american totem-kin is close enough to justify mr. max muller in speaking of red indian 'clans.' by parity of reasoning, the analogy between the australian kobong and the american totem is so complete that we may speak of 'totemism' in australia. it would be childish to talk of 'totemism' in north america, 'kobongism' in australia, 'pacarissaism' in the realm of the incas: totems, kobongs, and pacarissas all amounting to the same thing, except in one point. i am not aware that australian blacks erect, or that the subjects of the incas, or that african and indian and asiatic totemists, erected 'sign- boards' anywhere, as the ottawa writer assures us that the ottawas do, or used to do. and, if they don't, how do we know that kobongs and pacarissas were developed out of sign-boards? heraldry and totems the ottawas are armigeri, are heraldic; so are the natives of vancouver's island, who have wooden pillars with elaborate quarterings. examples are in south kensington museum. but this savage heraldry is not nearly so common as the institution of totemism. thus it is difficult to prove that the heraldry is the origin of totemism, which is just as likely, or more likely, to have been the origin of savage heraldic crests and quarterings. mr. max muller allows that there may be other origins. gods and totems our author refers to unnamed writers who call indra or ammon a totem (i. ). this is a foolish liberty with language. 'why should not all the gods of egypt with their heads of bulls and apes and cats be survivals of totemisms?' why not, indeed? professor sayce remarks, 'they were the sacred animals of the clans,' survivals from an age 'when the religion of egypt was totemism.' 'in egypt the gods themselves are totem-deities, i.e. personifications or individual representations of the sacred character and attributes which in the purely totem stage of religion were ascribed without distinction to all animals of the holy kind.' so says dr. robertson smith. he and mr. sayce are 'scholars,' not mere unscholarly anthropologists. { } an objection lastly (ii. ), when totems infected 'even those who ought to have been proof against this infantile complaint' (which is not even a 'disease of language' of a respectable type), then 'the objection that a totem meant originally a clan-mark was treated as scholastic pedantry.' alas, i fear with justice! for if i call mr. arthur balfour a tory will mr. max muller refute my opinion by urging that 'a tory meant originally an irish rapparee,' or whatever the word _did_ originally mean? mr. max muller decides that 'we never find a religion consisting exclusively of a belief in fetishes, or totems, or ancestral spirits.' here, at last, we are in absolute agreement. so much for totems and sign- boards. only a weak fanatic will find a totem in every animal connected with gods, sacred names, and religious symbols. but totemism is a fact, whether 'totem' originally meant a clan-mark or sign-board in america or not. and, like mr. sayce, mr. frazer, mr. rhys, dr. robertson smith, i believe that totemism has left marks in civilised myth, ritual, and religion, and that these survivals, not a 'disease of language,' explain certain odd elements in the old civilisations. a weak brother our author's habit of omitting references to his opponents has here caused me infinite inconvenience. he speaks of some eccentric person who has averred that a 'fetish' is a 'totem,' inhabited by 'an ancestral spirit.' to myself it seems that you might as well say 'abracadabra is gas and gaiters.' as no reference was offered, i invented 'a wild surmise' that mr. max muller had conceivably misapprehended mr. frazer's theory of the origin of totems. had our author only treated himself fairly, he would have referred to his own anthropological religion (pp. and ), where the name of the eccentric definer is given as that of herr lippert. { } then came into my mind the words of professor tiele, 'beware of weak brethren'--such as herr lippert seems, as far as this definition is concerned, to be. nobody knows the origin of totemism. we find no race on its way to becoming totemistic, though we find several in the way of ceasing to be so. they are abandoning female kinship for paternity; their rules of marriage and taboo are breaking down; perhaps various totem kindreds of different crests and names are blending into one local tribe, under the name, perhaps, of the most prosperous totem-kin. but we see no race on its way to becoming totemistic, so we have no historical evidence as to the origin of the institution. mr. mclennan offered no conjecture, professor robertson smith offered none, nor have i displayed the spirit of scientific exactitude by a guess in the dark. to gratify mr. max muller by defining totemism as mr. mclennan first used the term is all that i dare do. here one may remark that if mr. max muller really wants 'an accurate definition' of totemism, the works of mclennan, frazer, robertson smith, and myself are accessible, and contain our definitions. he does not produce these definitions, and criticise them; he produces dr. lippert's and criticises that. an argument should be met in its strongest and most authoritative form. 'define what you mean by a totem,' says professor max muller in his gifford lectures of (p. ). he had to look no further for a definition, an authoritative definition, than to 'totem' in the encyclopaedia britannica, or to mclennan. yet his large and intelligent glasgow audience, and his readers, may very well be under the impression that a definition of 'totem' is 'still to seek,' like prince charlie's religion. controversy simply cannot be profitably conducted on these terms. 'the best representatives of anthropology are now engaged not so much in comparing as in discriminating.' { } why not refer, then, to the results of their discriminating efforts? 'to treat all animal worship as due to totemism is a mistake.' do we make it? mr. frazer and myself there is, or was, a difference of opinion between mr. frazer and myself as to the causes of the appearance of certain sacred animals in greek religion. my notions were published in myth, ritual, and religion ( ), mr. frazer's in the golden bough ( ). necessarily i was unaware in of mr. frazer's still unpublished theory. now that i have read it, he seems to me to have the better logic on his side; and if i do not as yet wholly agree with him, it is because i am not yet certain that both of our theories may not have their proper place in greek mythology. greek totemism in c. and m. (p. ) i describe the social aspects of totemism. i ask if there are traces of it in greece. suppose, for argument's sake, that in prehistoric greece the mouse had been a totem, as it is among the oraons of bengal. { } in that case ( ) places might be named from a mouse tribe; ( ) mice might be held sacred per se; ( ) the mouse name might be given locally to a god who superseded the mouse in pride of place; ( ) images of the mouse might be associated with that of the god, ( ) and used as a local badge or mark; ( ) myths might be invented to explain the forgotten cause of this prominence of the mouse. if all these notes occur, they would raise a presumption in favour of totemism in the past of greece. i then give evidence in detail, proving that all these six facts do occur among greeks of the troads and sporadically elsewhere. i add that, granting for the sake of argument that these traces may point to totemism in the remote past, the mouse, though originally a totem, '_need not have been an aryan totem_' (p. ). i offer a list of other animals closely connected with apollo, giving him a beast's name (wolf, ram, dolphin), and associated with him in myth and art. in m. r. r. i apply similar arguments in the case of artemis and the bear, of dionysus and the bull, demeter and the pig, and so forth. moreover, i account for the myths of descent of greek human families from gods disguised as dogs, ants, serpents, bulls, and swans, on the hypothesis that kindreds who originally, in totemistic fashion, traced to beasts sans phrase, later explained their own myth to themselves by saying that the paternal beast was only a god in disguise and en bonne fortune. this hypothesis at least 'colligates the facts,' and brings them into intelligible relationship with widely-diffused savage institutions and myths. the greek mouse-totem? my theory connecting apollo smintheus and the place-names derived from mice with a possible prehistoric mouse-totem gave me, i confess, considerable satisfaction. but in mr. frazer's golden bough (ii. - ) is published a group of cases in which mice and other vermin are worshipped for prudential reasons--to get them to go away. in the classical review (vol. vi. ) mr. ward fowler quotes aristotle and aelian on plagues of mice, like the recent invasion of voles on the border sheep-farms. he adopts the theory that the sacred mice were adored by way of propitiating them. thus apollo may be connected with mice, not as a god who superseded a mouse-totem, but as an expeller of mice, like the worm-killing heracles, and the locust-heracles, and the locust-apollo. { a} the locust is still painted red, salaamed to, and set free in india, by way of propitiating his companions. { b} thus the mouse-apollo (smintheus) would be merely a god noted for his usefulness in getting rid of mice, and any worship given to mice (feeding them, placing their images on altars, their stamp on coins, naming places after them, and so on) would be mere acts of propitiation. there would be no mouse-totem in the background. i do not feel quite convinced--the mouse being a totem, and a sacred or tabooed animal, in india and egypt. { a} but i am content to remain in a balance of opinion. that the mouse is the night (gubernatis), or the lightning (grohmann), i am disinclined to believe. philologists are very apt to jump at contending meteorological explanations of mice and such small deer without real necessity, and an anthropologist is very apt to jump at an equally unnecessary and perhaps equally undemonstrated totem. philological theory philological mythologists prefer to believe that the forgotten meaning of words produced the results; that the wolf-born apollo ([greek]) originally meant 'light-born apollo,' { b} and that the wolf came in from a confusion between [greek], 'light,' and [greek], a wolf. i make no doubt that philologists can explain sminthian apollo, the dog-apollo, and all the rest in the same way, and account for all the other peculiarities of place-names, myths, works of art, local badges, and so forth. we must then, i suppose, infer that these six traits of the mouse, already enumerated, tally with the traces which actual totemism would or might leave surviving behind it, or which propitiation of mice might leave behind it, by a chance coincidence, determined by forgotten meanings of words. the greek analogy to totemistic facts would be explained, ( ) either by asking for a definition of totemism, and not listening when it is given; or ( ) by maintaining that savage totemism is also a result of a world-wide malady of language, which, in a hundred tongues, produced the same confusions of thought, and consequently the same practices and institutions. nor do i for one moment doubt that the ingenuity of philologists could prove the name of every beast and plant, in every language under heaven, to be a name for the 'inevitable dawn' (max muller), or for the inevitable thunder, or storm, or lightning (kuhn- schwartz). but as names appear to yield storm, lightning, night, or dawn with equal ease and certainty, according as the scholar prefers dawn or storm, i confess that this demonstration would leave me sceptical. it lacks scientific exactitude. mr. frazer on animals in greek religion in the golden bough (ii. ) mr. frazer, whose superior knowledge and acuteness i am pleased to confess, has a theory different from that which i (following mclennan) propounded before the golden bough appeared. greece had a bull-shaped dionysus. { a} 'there is left no room to doubt that in rending and devouring a live bull at his festival, his worshippers believed that they were killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood.' { b} mr. frazer concludes that there are two possible explanations of dionysus in his bull aspect. ( ) this was an expression of his character as a deity of vegetation, 'especially as the bull is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit in northern europe.' { a} ( ) the other possible explanation 'appears to be the view taken by mr. lang, who suggests that the bull-formed dionysus "had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to, the worship of a bull-totem."' { b} now, anthropologists are generally agreed, i think, that occasional sacrifices of and communion in the flesh of the totem or other sacred animals do occur among totemists. { c} but mr. frazer and i both admit, and indeed are eager to state publicly, that the evidence for sacrifice of the totem, and communion in eating him, is very scanty. the fact is rather inferred from rites among peoples just emerging from totemism (see the case of the californian buzzard, in bancroft) than derived from actual observation. on this head too much has been taken for granted by anthropologists. but i learn that direct evidence has been obtained, and is on the point of publication. the facts i may not anticipate here, but the evidence will be properly sifted, and bias of theory discounted. to return to my theory of the development of dionysus into a totem, or of his inheritance of the rites of a totem, mr. frazer says, 'of course this is possible, but it is not yet certain that aryans ever had totemism.' { d} now, in writing of the mouse, i had taken care to observe that, in origin, the mouse as a totem need not have been aryan, but adopted. people who think that the aryans did not pass through a stage of totemism, female kin, and so forth, can always fall back (to account for apparent survivals of such things among aryans) on 'pre-aryan conquered peoples,' such as the picts. aryans may be enticed by these bad races and become pictis ipsis pictiores. aryan totems (?) generally speaking (and how delightfully characteristic of us all is this!), i see totems in greek sacred beasts, where mr. frazer sees the corn-spirit embodied in a beast, and where mr. max muller sees (in the case of indra, called the bull) 'words meaning simply male, manly, strong,' an 'animal simile.' { a} here, of course, mr. max muller is wholly in the right, when a vedic poet calls indra 'strong bull,' or the like. such poetic epithets do not afford the shadow of a presumption for vedic totemism, even as a survival. mr. frazer agrees with me and mr. max muller in this certainty. i myself say, 'if in the shape of indra there be traces of fur and feather, they are not very numerous nor very distinct, but we give them for what they may be worth.' i then give them. { b} to prove that i do not force the evidence, i take the vedic text. { c} 'his mother, a cow, bore indra, an unlicked calf.' i then give sayana's explanation. indra entered into the body of dakshina, and was reborn of her. she also bore a cow. but this legend, i say, 'has rather the air of being an invention, apres coup, to account for the vedic text of calf indra, born from a cow, than of being a genuine ancient myth.' the vedic myth of indra's amours in shape of a ram, i say 'will doubtless be explained away as metaphorical.' nay, i will go further. it is perfectly conceivable to me that in certain cases a poetic epithet applied by a poet to a god (say bull, ram, or snake) _might_ be misconceived, and _might_ give rise to the worship of a god as a bull, or snake, or ram. further, if civilised ideas perished, and if a race retained a bull-god, born of their degradation and confusion of mind, they might eat him in a ritual sacrifice. but that _all_ totemistic races are totemistic, because they all first metaphorically applied animal names to gods, and then forgot what they had meant, and worshipped these animals, sans phrase, appears to me to be, if not incredible, still greatly in want of evidence. mr. frazer and i it is plain that where a people claim no connection by descent and blood from a sacred animal, are neither of his name nor kin, the essential feature of totemism is absent. i do not see that eaters of the bull dionysus or cultivators of the pig demeter { } made any claim to kindred with either god. their towns were not allied in name with pig or bull. if traces of such a belief existed, they have been sloughed off. thus mr. frazer's explanation of greek pigs and bulls and all their odd rites, as connected with the beast in which the corn-spirit is incarnate, holds its ground better than my totemistic suggestion. but i am not sure that the corn-spirit accounts for the sminthian mouse in all his aspects, nor for the arcadian and attic bear-rites and myths of artemis. mouse and bear do appear in mr. frazer's catalogue of forms of the corn-spirits, taken from mannhardt. { } but the arcadians, as we shall see, _claimed descent_ from a bear, and the mouse place-names and badges of the troad yield a hint of the same idea. the many greek family claims to descent from gods as dogs, bulls, ants, serpents, and so on, _may_ spring from gratitude to the corn-spirit. does mr. frazer think so? nobody knows so well as he that similar claims of descent from dogs and snakes are made by many savage kindreds who have no agriculture, no corn, and, of course, no corn-spirits. these remarks, i trust, are not undiscriminating, and naturally i yield the bull dionysus and the pig demeter to the corn-spirit, vice totem, superseded. but i do hanker after the arcadian bear as, at least, a possible survival of totemism. the scottish school inspector removed a picture of behemoth, as a fabulous animal, from the wall of a school room. but, not being sure of the natural history of the unicorn, 'he just let him bide, and gave the puir beast the benefit o' the doubt.' will mr. frazer give the arcadian bear 'the benefit of the doubt'? i am not at all bigoted in the opinion that the greeks may have once been totemists. the strongest presumption in favour of the hypothesis is the many claims of descent from a god disguised as a beast. but the institution, if ever it did exist among the ancestors of the greeks, had died out very long before homer. we cannot expect to find traces of the prohibition to marry a woman of the same totem. in rome we do find traces of exogamy, as among totemists. 'formerly they did not marry women connected with them by blood.' { a} but we do not find, and would not expect to find, that the 'blood' was indicated by the common totem. mr. frazer on origin of totemism mr. frazer has introduced the term 'sex-totems,' in application to australia. this is connected with his theory of the origin of totemism. i cannot quite approve of the term sex-totems. if in australia each sex has a protecting animal--the men a bat, the women an owl--if the slaying of a bat by a woman menaces the death of a man, if the slaying of an owl by a woman may cause the decease of a man, all that is very unlike totemism in other countries. therefore, i ask mr. frazer whether, in the interests of definite terminology, he had not better give some other name than 'totem' to his australian sex protecting animals? he might take for a _local_ fact, a _local_ name, and say 'sex- kobong.' once more, for even we anthropologists have our bickerings, i would 'hesitate dislike' of this passage in mr. frazer's work: { b} 'when a savage _names himself_ after an animal, calls it his brother, and refuses to kill it, the animal is said to be his totem.' distinguo! a savage does not name _himself_ after his totem, any more than mr. frazer named himself by his clan-name, originally norman. it was not as when miss betty amory named herself 'blanche,' by her own will and fantasy. a savage _inherits_ his totem name, usually through the mother's side. the special animal which protects an individual savage (zapotec, tona; guatemalan, nagual; north america, manitou, 'medicine') is _not_ that savage's totem. { a} the nagual, tona, or manitou is selected for each particular savage, at birth or puberty, in various ways: in america, north and central, by a dream in a fast, or after a dream. ('post-hypnotic suggestion.') but a savage is born to his kin-totem. a man is born a wolf of the delawares, his totem is the wolf, he cannot help himself. but after, or in, his medicine fast and sleep, he may choose a dormouse or a squirrel for his manitou (tona, nagual) or _private_ protecting animal. these are quite separate from totems, as mr. max muller also points out. of totems, i, for one, must always write in the sense of mr. mclennan, who introduced totemism to science. thus, to speak of 'sex-totems,' or to call the protecting animal of each individual a 'totem,' is, i fear, to bring in confusion, and to justify mr. max muller's hard opinion that 'totemism' is ill-defined. for myself, i use the term in the strict sense which i have given, and in no other. mr. mclennan did not profess, as we saw, to know the origin of totems. he once made a guess in conversation with me, but he abandoned it. professor robertson smith did not know the origin of totems. 'the origin of totems is as much a problem as the origin of local gods.' { b} mr. max muller knows the origin: sign-boards are the origin, or one origin. but what was the origin of sign-boards? 'we carry the pictures of saints on our banners because we worship them; we don't worship them because we carry them as banners,' says de brosses, an acute man. did the indians worship totems because they carved them on sign-boards (if they all did so), or did they carve them on sign-boards because they worshipped them? mr. frazer's theory the australian respects his 'sex-totem' because the life of his sex is bound up in its life. he speaks of it as his brother, and calls himself (as distinguished by his sex) by its name. as a man he is a bat, as a woman his wife is an owl. as a member of a given human kin he may be a kangaroo, perhaps his wife may be an emu. but mr. frazer derives totemism, all the world over, from the same origin as he assigns to 'sex- totems.' in these the life of each sex is bound up, therefore they are by each sex revered. therefore totemism must have the same origin, substituting 'kin' or 'tribe' for sex. he gives examples from australia, in which killing a man's totem killed the man. { } i would respectfully demur or suggest delay. can we explain an american institution, a fairly world-wide institution, totemism, by the local peculiarities of belief in isolated australia? if, in america, to kill a wolf was to kill uncas or chingachgook, i would incline to agree with mr. frazer. but no such evidence is adduced. nor does it help mr. frazer to plead that the killing of an american's nagual or of a zulu's ihlozi kills that zulu or american. for a nagual, as i have shown, is one thing and a totem is another; nor am i aware that zulus are totemists. the argument of mr. frazer is based on analogy and on a special instance. that instance of the australians is so archaic that it _may_ show totemism in an early form. mr. frazer's may be a correct hypothesis, but it needs corroboration. however, mr. frazer concludes: 'the totem, if i am right, is simply the receptacle in which a man keeps his life.' yet he never shows that a choctaw _does_ keep his life in his totem. perhaps the choctaw is afraid to let out so vital a secret. the less reticent australian blurts it forth. suppose the hypothesis correct. men and women keep their lives in their naguals, private sacred beasts. but why, on this score, should a man be afraid to make love to a woman of the same nagual? have red indian _women_ any naguals? i never heard of them. since writing this i have read miss kingsley's travels in west africa. there the 'bush-souls' which she mentions (p. ) bear analogies to totems, being inherited sacred animals, connected with the life of members of families. the evidence, though vaguely stated, favours mr. frazer's hypothesis, to which miss kingsley makes no allusion. the validity of anthropological evidence anthropological evidence in all that we say of totemism, as, later, of fetishism, we rely on an enormous mass of evidence from geographers, historians, travellers, settlers, missionaries, explorers, traders, civil servants, and european officers of native police in australia and burmah. our witnesses are of all ages, from herodotus to our day, of many nations, of many creeds, of different theoretical opinions. this evidence, so world-wide, so diversified in source, so old, and so new, mr. max muller impugns. but, before meeting his case, let us clear up a personal question. 'positions one never held' 'it is not pleasant [writes our author] to have to defend positions which one never held, nor wishes to hold, and i am therefore all the more grateful to those who have pointed out the audacious misrepresentations of my real opinion in comparative mythology, and have rebuked the flippant tone of some of my eager critics' [i. , ]. i must here confess to the belief that no gentleman or honest man ever _consciously_ misrepresents the ideas of an opponent. if it is not too flippant an illustration, i would say that no bowler ever throws consciously and wilfully; his action, however, may unconsciously develop into a throw. there would be no pleasure in argument, cricket, or any other sport if we knowingly cheated. thus it is always _unconsciously_ that adversaries pervert, garble, and misrepresent each other's opinions; unconsciously, not 'audaciously.' if people would start from the major premise that misrepresentations, if such exist, are unconscious errors, much trouble would be spared. positions which i never held thus mr. max muller never dreamed of 'audaciously misrepresenting' me when, in four lines, he made two statements about my opinions and my materials which are at the opposite pole from the accurate (i. ): 'when i speak of the vedic rishis as primitive, i do not mean what mr. a. lang means when he calls his savages primitive.' but i have stated again and again that i _don't_ call my savages 'primitive.' thus 'contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not primitive.' { a} 'one thing about the past of [contemporary] savages we do know: it must have been a long past.' { b} 'we do not wish to call savages primitive.' { c} all this was written in reply to the very proper caution of dr. fairbairn that 'savages are not primitive.' of course they are not; that is of the essence of my theory. i regret the use of the word 'primitive' even in primitive culture. savages, as a rule, are _earlier_, more backward than civilised races, as, of course, mr. max muller admits, where language is concerned. { } now, after devoting several pages to showing in detail how very far from primitive even the australian tribes are, might i (if i were ill-natured) not say that mr. max muller 'audaciously misrepresents' me when he avers that i 'call my savages primitive'? but he never dreamed of misrepresenting me; he only happened not to understand my position. however, as he complains in his own case, 'it is not pleasant to have to defend positions which one never held' (i. ), and, indeed, i shall defend no such position. my adversary next says that my 'savages are of the nineteenth century.' it is of the essence of my theory that my savages are of many different centuries. those described by herodotus, strabo, dio cassius, christoval de moluna, sahagun, cieza de leon, brebeuf, garoilasso de la vega, lafitau, nicholas damascenus, leo africanus, and a hundred others, are _not_ of the nineteenth century. this fact is essential, because the evidence of old writers, from herodotus to egede, corroborates the evidence of travellers, indian civil servants, and missionaries of today, by what dr. tylor, when defending our materials, calls 'the test of recurrence.' professor millar used the same argument in his origin of rank, in the last century. thus mr. max muller unconsciously misrepresents me (and my savages) when he says that my 'savages are of the nineteenth century.' the fact is the reverse. they are of many centuries. these two unconscious misrepresentations occur in four consecutive lines. anthropological evidence in connection with this topic (the nature of anthropological evidence), mr. max muller (i. - ) repeats what he has often said before. thus he cites dr. codrington's remarks, most valuable remarks, on the difficulty of reporting correctly about the ideas and ways of savages. i had cited the same judicious writer to the same effect, { } and had compiled a number of instances in which the errors of travellers were exposed, and their habitual fallacies were detected. fifteen closely printed pages were devoted by me to a criterion of evidence, and a reply to mr. max muller's oft-repeated objections. 'when [i said] we find dr. codrington taking the same precautions in melanesia as mr. sproat took among the ahts, and when his account of melanesian myths reads like a close copy of mr. sproat's account of aht legends, and when both are corroborated [as to the existence of analogous savage myths] by the collections of bleek, and hahn, and gill, and castren, and rink, in far different corners of the world; while the modern testimony of these scholarly men is in harmony with that of the old jesuit missionaries, and of untaught adventurers who have lived for many years with savages, surely it will be admitted that the difficulty of ascertaining savage opinion has been, to a great extent, overcome.' i also cited at length dr. tylor's masterly argument to the same effect, an argument offered by him to 'a great historian,' apparently. mr. max muller's method of controversy now no member of the reading public, perusing mr. max muller on anthropological evidence (i. - , - ), could guess that his cautions about evidence are not absolutely new to us. he could not guess that dr. tylor replied to them 'before they were made' by our present critic (i think), and that i did the same with great elaboration. our defence of our evidence is not noticed by mr. max muller. he merely repeats what he has often said before on the subject, exactly as if anthropologists were ignorant of it, and had not carefully studied, assimilated, profited by it, and answered it. our critic and monitor might have said, 'i have examined your test of _recurrences_, and what else you have to urge, and, for such and such reasons, i must reject it.' then we could reconsider our position in this new light. but mr. max muller does not oblige us in this way. mr. max muller on our evidence in an earlier work, the gifford lectures for , { } our author had devoted more space to a criticism of our evidence. to this, then, we turn (pp. - , - ). passing mr. max muller's own difficulties in understanding a mohawk (which the mohawk no doubt also felt in understanding mr. max muller), we reach (p. ) the fables about godless savages. these, it is admitted, are exploded among scholars in anthropology. so we do, at least, examine evidence. mr. max muller now fixes on a flagrant case, some fables about the godless mincopies of the andaman islands. but _he_ relies on the evidence of mr. man. so do i, as far as it seems beyond doubt. { a} mr. man is 'a careful observer, a student of language, and perfectly trustworthy.' these are the reasons for which i trust him. but when mr. man says that the mincopies have a god, puluga, who inhabits 'a stone house in the sky,' i remark, 'here the idea of the stone house is necessarily borrowed from our stone houses at port blair.' { b} when mr. man talks of puluga's only-begotten son, 'a sort of archangel,' medium between puluga and the angels, i 'hesitate a doubt.' did not this idea reach the mincopie mind from the same quarter as the stone house, especially as puluga's wife is 'a green shrimp or an eel'? at all events, it is right to bear in mind that, as the stone house of the mincopie heaven is almost undeniably of european origin, the only-begotten mediating son of puluga and the green shrimp _may_ bear traces of christian teaching. caution is indicated. does mr. max muller, so strict about evidence, boggle at the stone house, the only son, the shrimp? not he; he never hints at the shrimp! does he point out that one anthropologist has asked for caution in weighing what the mincopies told mr. man? very far from that, he complains that 'the old story is repeated again and again' about the godless andamans. { c} the intelligent glasgow audience could hardly guess that anthropologists were watchful, and knew pretty well what to believe about the mincopies. perhaps in glasgow they do not read us anthropologists much. on p. our author returns to the charge. he observes (as i have also observed) the often contradictory nature of our evidence. here i may offer an anecdote. the most celebrated of living english philosophers heard that i was at one time writing a book on the 'ghostly' in history, anthropology, and society, old or new, savage or civilised. he kindly dictated a letter to me asking how i could give time and pains to any such marvels. for, he argued, the most unveracious fables were occasionally told about himself in newspapers and social gossip. if evidence cannot be trusted about a living and distinguished british subject, how can it be accepted about hallucinations? i replied, with respect, that on this principle nothing could be investigated at all. history, justice, trade, everything would be impossible. we must weigh and criticise evidence. as my friendly adviser had written much on savage customs and creeds, he best knew that conflicting testimony, even on his own chosen theme, is not peculiar to ghost stories. in a world of conflicting testimony we live by criticising it. thus, when mr. max muller says that i call my savages 'primitive,' and when i, on the other hand, quote passages in which i explicitly decline to do so, the evidence as to my views is contradictory. yet the truth can be discovered by careful research. the application is obvious. we must not despair of truth! as our monitor says, 'we ought to discard all evidence that does not come to us either from a man who was able himself to converse with native races, or who was at least an eye-witness of what he relates.' precisely, that is our method. i, for one, do not take even a ghost story at second hand, much less anything so startling as a savage rite. and we discount and allow for every bias and prejudice of our witnesses. i have made a list of these idola in m. r. r. ii. - . mr. max muller now gives a list of inconsistencies in descriptions of australian blacks. they are _not_ blacks, they have a dash of copper colour! well, i never said that they had 'the sooty tinge of the african negro.' did anybody? mr. ridley thinks that all natives are called 'murri.' mr. curr says 'no.' important. we must reserve our judgment. missionaries say the blacks are 'devoid of moral ideas.' what missionaries? what anthropologist believes such nonsense? there are differences of opinion about landed property, communal or private. the difference rages among historians of civilised races. so, also, as to portable property. mr. curr (mr. max muller's witness) agrees here with those whose works i chiefly rely on. 'mr. mclennan has built a whole social theory on the statement' (a single statement) 'made by sir george grey, and contradicted by mr. curr.' mr. mclennan would be, i think, rather surprised at this remark; but what would he do? why, he would re-examine the whole question, decide by the balance of evidence, and reject, modify, or retain his theory accordingly. all sciences have to act in this way; therefore almost all scientific theories are fluctuating. nothing here is peculiar to anthropology. a single word, or two or three, will prove or disprove a theory of phonetic laws. even phonetics are disputable ground. in defence of my late friend mr. mclennan, i must point out that if he built a whole social theory on a single statement of sir george grey's, and if mr. curr denies the truth of the statement, mr. frazer has produced six or seven witnesses to the truth of that very statement in other parts of the world than australia. { } to this circumstance we may return. mr. max muller next produces mr. curr's opinions about the belief in a god and morality among australians. 'here he really contradicts himself.' the disputable evidence about australian marriage laws is next shown to be disputable. that is precisely why dr. tylor is applying to it his unrivalled diligence in accurate examination. we await his results. finally, the contradictory evidence as to tasmanian religion is exposed. we have no codrington or bleek for tasmania. the tasmanians are extinct, and science should leave the evidence as to their religion out of her accounts. we cannot cross-examine defunct tasmanians. from all this it follows that anthropologists must sift and winnow their evidence, like men employed in every other branch of science. and who denies it? what anthropologist of mark accepts as gospel any casual traveller's tale? the test of recurrences even for travellers' tales we have a use, we can apply to them dr. tylor's 'test of recurrences.' 'if two independent visitors to different countries, say a mediaeval mahommedan in tartary and a modern englishman in dahomey, or a jesuit missionary in brazil and a wesley an in the fiji islands, agree in describing some analogous art, or rite, or myth among the people they have visited, it becomes difficult or impossible to set down such correspondence to accident or wilful fraud. a story by a bushranger in australia may perhaps be objected to as a mistake or an invention, but did a methodist minister in guinea conspire with him to cheat the public by telling the same story there?' the whole passage should be read: it was anticipated by professor millar in his origin of rank, and has been restated by myself. { a} thus i wrote (in ) 'it is to be regretted that mr. max muller entirely omits to mention . . . the corroboration which is derived from the undesigned coincidence of independent testimony.' in - he still entirely omits to mention, to his glasgow audience, the strength of his opponents' case. he would serve us better if he would criticise the test of recurrences, and show us its weak points. bias of theory yes, our critic may reply, 'but mr. curr thinks that there is a strong tendency in observers abroad, if they have become acquainted with a new and startling theory that has become popular at home, to see confirmations of it everywhere.' so i had explicitly stated in commenting on dr. tylor's test of recurrences. { b} 'travellers and missionaries have begun to read anthropological books, and their evidence is, therefore, much more likely to be biassed now by anthropological theories than it was of old.' so mr. mclennan, in the very earliest of all writings on totemism, said: 'as the totem has not till now got itself mixed up with speculations the observers have been unbiassed.' mr. mclennan finally declined to admit any evidence as to the savage marriage laws collected after his own theory, and other theories born from it, had begun to bias observers of barbaric tribes. it does not quite seem to me that mr. max muller makes his audience acquainted with these precautions of anthropologists, with their sedulous sifting of evidence, and watchfulness against the theoretical bias of observers. thus he assails the faible, not the fort of our argument, and may even seem not to be aware that we have removed the faible by careful discrimination. what opinion must his readers, who know not mr. mclennan's works, entertain about that acute and intrepid pioneer, a man of warm temper, i admit, a man who threw out his daringly original theory at a heat, using at first such untrustworthy materials as lay at hand, but a man whom disease could not daunt, and whom only death prevented from building a stately edifice on the soil which he was the first to explore? our author often returns to the weakness of the evidence of travellers and missionaries. concerning missionaries here is an example of a vivacite in our censor. 'with regard to ghosts and spirits among the melanesians, our authorities, whether missionaries, traders, or writers on ethnology, are troubled by no difficulties' (i. ). yet on this very page mr. max muller has been citing the 'difficulties' which _do_ 'trouble' a 'missionary,' dr. codrington. and, for my own part, when i want information about melanesian beliefs, it is to dr. codrington's work that i go. { } the doctor, himself a missionary, ex hypothesi 'untroubled by difficulties,' has just been quoted by mr. max muller, and by myself, as a witness to the difficulties which trouble himself and us. what can mr. max muller possibly mean? am i wrong? was dr. codrington _not_ a missionary? at all events, he is the authority on melanesia, a 'high' authority (i. ). the philological method in anthropology mr. max muller as ethnologist our author is apt to remonstrate with his anthropological critics, and to assure them that he also has made studies in ethnology. 'i am not such a despairer of ethnology as some ethnologists would have me.' he refers us to the assistance which he lent in bringing out dr. hahn's tsuni-goam ( ), mr. gill's myths and songs from the south pacific ( ), and probably other examples could be added. but my objection is, not that we should be ungrateful to mr. max muller for these and other valuable services to anthropology, but that, when he has got his anthropological material, he treats it in what i think the wrong way, or approves of its being so treated. here, indeed, is the irreconcilable difference between two schools of mythological interpretation. given dr. hahn's book, on hottentot manners and religion: the anthropologist compares the hottentot rites, beliefs, social habits, and general ideas with those of other races known to him, savage or civilised. a hottentot custom, which has a meaning among hottentots, may exist where its meaning is lost, among greeks or other 'aryans.' a story of a hottentot god, quite a natural sort of tale for a hottentot to tell, may be told about a god in greece, where it is contrary to the greek spirit. we infer that the greeks perhaps inherited it from savage ancestors, or borrowed it from savages. names of savage gods this is the method, and if we can also get a scholar to analyse the _names_ of hottentot gods, we are all the luckier, that is, if his processes and inferences are _logical_. may we not decide on the _logic_ of scholars? but, just as mr. max muller points out to us the dangers attending our evidence, we point out to him the dangers attending his method. in dr. hahn's book, the doctor analyses the meaning of the name tsuni-goam and other names, discovers their original sense, and from that sense explains the myths about hottentot divine beings. here we anthropologists first ask mr. max muller, before accepting dr. hahn's etymologies, to listen to other scholars about the perils and difficulties of the philological analysis of divine names, even in aryan languages. i have already quoted his 'defender,' dr. tiele. 'the philological method is inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of ( ) discovering the origin of a myth, or ( ) the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or ( ) of accounting for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races.' to the two former purposes dr. hahn applies the philological method in the case of tsuni-goam. other scholars agree with dr. tiele. mannhardt, as we said, held that mr. max muller's favourite etymological 'equations,' sarameya=hermeias; saranyu=demeter-erinnys; kentauros=gandharvas and others, would not stand criticism. 'the method in its practical working shows a lack of the historical sense,' said mannhardt. curtius--a scholar, as mr. max muller declares (i. )--says, 'it is especially difficult to conjecture the meaning of proper names, and above all of local and mythical names.' { a} i do not see that it is easier when these names are not greek, but hottentot, or algonquin! thus achilles may as easily mean 'holder of the people' as 'holder of stones,' i.e. a river-god! or does [greek] suggest aqua, achelous the river? leto, mother of apollo, cannot be from [greek], as mr. max muller holds (ii. , ), to which mr. max muller replies, perhaps not, as far as the phonetic rules go 'which determine the formation of appellative nouns. it, indeed, would be extraordinary if it were. . . .' the phonetic rules in hottentot may also suggest difficulties to a south african curtius! other scholars agree with curtius--agree in thinking that the etymology of mythical names is a sandy foundation for the science of mythology. 'the difficult task of interpreting mythical names has, so far, produced few certain results,' says otto schrader. { b} when dr. hahn applies the process in hottentot, we urge with a friendly candour these cautions from scholars on mr. max muller. a hottentot god in custom and myth (p. ), i examine the logic by which dr. hahn proves tsuni-goam to be 'the red dawn.' one of his steps is to say that few means 'sore,' or 'wounded,' and that a wound is _red_, so he gets his 'red' in red dawn. but of tsu in the sense of 'red' he gives not one example, while he does give another word for 'red,' or 'bloody.' this may be scholarly but it is not evidence, and this is only one of many perilous steps on ground extremely scabreux, got over by a series of logical leaps. as to our quarrel with mr. max muller about his friend's treatment of ethnological materials, it is this: we do not believe in the validity of the etymological method when applied to many old divine names in greek, still less in hottentot. cause of our scepticism our scepticism is confirmed by the extraordinary diversity of opinion among scholars as to what the right analysis of old divine names is. mr. max muller writes (i. ): 'i have never been able to extract from my critics the title of a single book in which my etymologies and my mythological equations had been seriously criticised by real scholars.' we might answer, 'why tell you what you know very well?' for (i. ) you say that while signer canizzaro calls some of your 'equations' 'irrefutably demonstrated,' 'other scholars declare these equations are futile and impossible.' do these other scholars criticise your equations not 'seriously'? or are you ignorant of the names of their works? another case. our author says that 'many objections were raised' to his 'equation' of athene=ahana='dawn' (ii. , , &c.). have the objections ceased? here are a few scholars who do not, or did not, accept athene=ahana: welcker, benfey, curtius, preller, furtwangler, schwartz, and now bechtel (i. ). mr. max muller thinks that he is right, but, till scholars agree, what can we do but wait? phonetic bickerings the evidence turns on theories of phonetic laws as they worked in pre- homeric greece. but these laws, as they apply to common ordinary words, need _not_, we are told, be applied so strictly to proper names, as of gods and heroes. these are a kind of comets, and their changes cannot be calculated like the changes of vulgar words, which answer to stars (i. ). mr. max muller 'formerly agreed with curtius that phonetic rules should be used against proper names with the same severity as against ordinary nouns and verbs.' benfey and welcker protested, so does professor victor henry. 'it is not fair to demand from mythography the rigorous observation of phonetics' (i. ). 'this may be called backsliding,' our author confesses, and it _does_ seem rather a 'go-as- you-please' kind of method. phonetic rules mr. max muller argues at length (and, to my ignorance, persuasively) in favour of a genial laxity in the application of phonetic rules to old proper names. do they apply to these as strictly as to ordinary words? 'this is a question that has often been asked . . . but it has never been boldly answered' (i. ). mr. max muller cannot have forgotten that curtius answered boldly--in the negative. 'without such rigour all attempts at etymology are impossible. for this very reason ethnologists and mythologists should make themselves acquainted with the simple principles of comparative philology.' { } but it is not for us to settle such disputes of scholars. meanwhile their evidence is derived from their private interpretations of old proper names, and they differ among themselves as to whether, in such interpretations, they should or should not be governed strictly by phonetic laws. then what mr. max muller calls 'the usual bickerings' begin among scholars (i. ). and mr. max muller connects ouranos with vedic varuna, while wackernagel prefers to derive it from [greek], urine, and this from [greek]=sk. varshayami, to rain (ii. , ), and so it goes on for years with a glorious uncertainty. if mr. max muller's equations are scientifically correct, the scholars who accept them not must all be unscientific. or else, this is not science at all. basis of a science a science in its early stages, while the validity of its working laws in application to essential cases is still undetermined, must, of course, expect 'bickerings.' but philological mythologists are actually trying to base one science, mythology, on the still shifting and sandy foundations of another science, phonetics. the philologists are quarrelling about their 'equations,' and about the application of their phonetic laws to mythical proper names. on the basis of this shaking soil, they propose to build _another_ science, mythology! then, pleased with the scientific exactitude of their evidence, they object to the laxity of ours. philology in action--indra as an example of the philological method with a vedic god, take indra. i do not think that science is ever likely to find out the whole origins of any god. even if his name mean 'sky,' dyaus, zeus, we must ask what mode of conceiving 'sky' is original. was 'sky' thought of as a person, and, if so, as a savage or as a civilised person; as a god, sans phrase; as the inanimate visible vault of heaven; as a totem, or how? indra, like other gods, is apt to evade our observation, in his origins. mr. max muller asks, 'what should we gain if we called indra . . . a totem?' who does? if we derive his name from the same root as 'ind-u,' _raindrop_, then 'his starting-point was the rain' (i. ). roth preferred 'idh,' 'indh,' _to kindle_; and later, his taste and fancy led him to 'ir,' or 'irv,' _to have power over_. he is variously regarded as god of 'bright firmament,' of air, of thunderstorm personified, and so forth. { } his name is not detected among other aryan gods, and his birth may be _after_ the 'aryan separation' (ii. ). but surely his name, even so, might have been carried to the greeks? this, at least, should not astonish mr. max muller. one had supposed that dyaus and zeus were separately developed, by peoples of india and greece, from a common, pre-separation, aryan root. one had not imagined that the greeks _borrowed_ divine names from sanskrit and from india. but this, too, might happen! (ii. ). mr. max muller asks, 'why should not a cloud or air goddess _of india_, whether called svara or urvasi, have supplied the first germs from which [greek] descended?' why not, indeed, if prehistoric greeks were in touch with india? i do not say they were not. why should not a vedic or sanskrit goddess of india supply the first germs of a greek goddess? (ii. p. ). why, because 'greek gods have never been vedic gods, but both greek and vedic gods have started from the same germs' (ii. ). our author has answered his own question, but he seems at intervals to suppose, contrary to his own principles, as i understand them, that greek _may_ be 'derived from' vedic divine names, or, at least, divine names in sanskrit. all this is rather confusing. obscuring the veda if indra is called 'bull,' that at first only meant 'strong' (ii. ). yet 'some very thoughtful scholars' see traces of totemism in indra! { a} mr. max muller thinks that this theory is 'obscuring the veda by this kind of light from the dark continent' (america, it seems). indra is said to have been born from a cow, like the african heitsi eibib. { b} there are unholy stories about indra and rams. but i for one, as i have said already, would never deny that these _may_ be part of the pleasant unconscious poetry of the vedic hymnists. indra's legend is rich in savage obscenities; they may, or may not, be survivals from savagery. at all events one sees no reason why we should not freely compare parallel savageries, and why this should 'obscure' the veda. comparisons are illuminating. criticism of fetishism mischief of comparisons in comparative mythology not always are comparisons illuminating, it seems. our author writes, 'it may be said--in fact, it has been said--that there can at all events be no harm in simply placing the myths and customs of savages side by side with the myths and customs of hindus and greeks.' (this, in fact, is the method of the science of institutions.) 'but experience shows that this is not so' (i. ). so we must not, should not, simply place the myths and customs of savages side by side with those of hindus and greeks. it is taboo. dr. oldenberg now dr. oldenberg, it seems, uses such comparisons of savage and aryan faiths. dr. oldenberg is (i. ) one of several '_very thoughtful scholars_' who do so, who break mr. max muller's prohibition. yet (ii. ) '_no true scholar_ would accept any comparison' between savage fables and the folklore of homer and the vedas 'as really authoritative _until fully demonstrated on both sides_.' well, it _is_ 'fully demonstrated,' or 'a very thoughtful scholar' (like dr. oldenberg) would not accept it. or it is _not_ demonstrated, and then dr. oldenberg, though 'a very thoughtful,' is not 'a true scholar.' comparisons, when odious once more, mr. max muller deprecates the making of comparisons between savage and vedic myths (i. ), and then (i. ) he deprecates the _acceptance_ of these very comparisons 'as really authoritative until fully demonstrated.' now, how is the validity of the comparisons to be 'fully demonstrated' if we are forbidden to make them at all, because to do so is to 'obscure' the veda 'by light from the dark continent'? a question of logic i am not writing 'quips and cranks;' i am dealing quite gravely with the author's processes of reasoning. 'no true scholar' does what 'very thoughtful scholars' do. no comparisons of savage and vedic myths should be made, but yet, 'when fully demonstrated,' 'true scholars would accept them' (i , ). how can comparisons be demonstrated before they are made? and made they must not be! 'scholars' it would be useful if mr. max muller were to define 'scholar,' 'real scholar,' 'true scholar,' 'very thoughtful scholar.' the latter may err, and have erred--like general councils, and like dr. oldenberg, who finds in the veda 'remnants of the wildest and rawest essence of religion,' totemism, and the rest (i. ). i was wont to think that 'scholar,' as used by our learned author, meant 'philological mythologist,' as distinguished from 'not-scholar,' that is, 'anthropological mythologist.' but now 'very thoughtful scholars,' even dr. oldenberg, mr. rhys, dr. robertson smith, and so on, use the anthropological method, so 'scholar' needs a fresh definition. the 'not-scholars,' the anthropologists, have, in fact, converted some very thoughtful scholars. if we could only catch the _true_ scholar! but that we cannot do till we fully demonstrate comparisons which we may not make, for fear of first 'obscuring the veda by this kind of light from the dark continent.' anthropology and the mysteries it is not my affair to defend dr. oldenberg, whose comparisons of vedic with savage rites i have never read, i am sorry to say. one is only arguing that the _method_ of making such comparisons is legitimate. thus (i. ) controversy, it seems, still rages among scholars as to 'the object of the eleusinian mysteries.' 'does not the scholar's conscience warn us against accepting whatever in the myths and customs of the zulus seems to suit our purpose'--of explaining features in the eleusinia? if zulu customs, and they alone, contained eleusinian parallels, even the anthropologist's conscience would whisper caution. but this is not the case. north american, australian, african, and other tribes have mysteries very closely and minutely resembling parts of the rites of the eleusinia, dionysia, and thesmophoria. thus lobeck, a scholar, describes the rhombos used in the dionysiac mysteries, citing clemens alexandrinus. { } thanks to dr. tylor's researches i was able to show (what lobeck knew not) that the rhombos (australian turndun, 'bull-roarer') is also used in australian, african, american, and other savage religious mysteries. now should i have refrained from producing this well-attested matter of fact till i knew australian, american, and african languages as well as i know greek? 'what century will it be when there will be scholars who know the dialects of the australian blacks as well as we know the dialects of greece?' (i. ) asks our author. and what in the name of eleusis have dialects to do with the circumstance that savages, like greeks, use rhombi in their mysteries? there are abundant other material facts, visible palpable objects and practices, which savage mysteries have in common with the greek mysteries. { } if observed by deaf men, when used by dumb men, instead of by scores of europeans who could talk the native languages, these illuminating rites of savages would still be evidence. they have been seen and described often, not by 'a casual native informant' (who, perhaps, casually invented greek rites, and falsely attributed them to his tribesmen), but by educated europeans. abstract ideas of savages mr. max muller defends, with perfect justice, the existence of abstract ideas among contemporary savages. it appears that somebody or other has said--'we have been told' (i. )--'that all this' (the mangaian theory of the universe) 'must have come from missionaries.' the ideas are as likely to have come from hegel as from a missionary! therefore, 'instead of looking for idols, or for totems and fetishes, we must learn and accept what the savages themselves are able to tell us. . . . ' yes, we _must_ learn and accept it; so i have always urged. but if the savages tell us about totems, are they not then 'casual native informants'? if a maori tells you, as he does, of traditional hymns containing ideas worthy of heraclitus, is _that_ quite trustworthy; whereas, if he tells you about his idols and taboos, _that_ cannot possibly be worthy of attention? perception of the infinite from these extraordinary examples of abstract thought in savages, our author goes on to say that his theory of 'the perception of the infinite' as the origin of religion was received 'with a storm of unfounded obloquy' (i. ). i myself criticised the hibbert lectures, in mind; { } on reading the essay over, i find no obloquy and no storm. i find, however, that i deny, what our author says that i assert, the primitiveness of contemporary savages. in that essay, which, of course, our author had no reason to read, much was said about fetishism, a topic discussed by mr. max muller in his hibbert lectures. fetishism is, as he says, an ill word, and has caused much confusion. fetishism and anthropological method throughout much of his work our author's object is to invalidate the anthropological method. that method sets side by side the customs, ideas, fables, myths, proverbs, riddles, rites, of different races. of their _languages_ it does not necessarily take account in this process. nobody (as we shall see) knows the languages of all, or of most, of the races whose ideas he compares. now the learned professor establishes the 'harm done' by our method in a given instance. he seems to think that, if a method has been misapplied, therefore the method itself is necessarily erroneous. the case stands thus: de brosses { a} first compared 'the so-called fetishes' of the gold coast with greek and roman amulets and other material objects of old religions. but he did this, we learn, without trying to find out _why_ a negro made a fetish of a pebble, shell, or tiger's tail, and without endeavouring to discover whether the negro's motives really were the motives of his 'postulated fetish worship' in greece, rome, or palestine. origin of fetishes if so, tant pis pour monsieur le president. but how does the unscientific conduct attributed to de brosses implicate the modern anthropologist? do _we_ not try to find out, and really succeed sometimes in finding out, _why_ a savage cherishes this or that scrap as a 'fetish'? i give a string of explanations in custom and myth (pp. - ). sometimes the so-called fetish had an accidental, which was taken to be a causal, connection with a stroke of good luck. sometimes the thing--an odd-shaped stone, say--had a superficial resemblance to a desirable object, and so was thought likely to aid in the acquisition of such objects by 'sympathetic magic.' { b} other 'fetishes' are revealed in dreams, or by ghosts, or by spirits appearing in semblance of animals. { a} 'telekinetic' origin of fetishism as i write comes in melusine, viii. , with an essay by m. lefebure on les origines du fetichisme. he derives some fetishistic practices from what the melanesians call mana, which, says mr. max muller, 'may often be rendered by supernatural or magic power, present in an individual, a stone, or in formulas or charms' (i. ). how, asks mr. lefebure, did men come to attribute this vis vivida to persons and things? because, in fact, he says, such an unexplored force does really exist and display itself. he then cites mr. crookes' observations on scientifically registered 'telekinetic' performances by daniel dunglas home, he cites despine on madame schmitz-baud, { b} with examples from dr. tylor, p. de la rissachere, dr. gibier, { c} and other authorities, good or bad. grouping, then, his facts under the dubious title of le magnetisme, m. lefebure finds in savage observation of such facts 'the chief cause of fetishism.' some of m. lefebure's 'facts' (of objects moving untouched) were certainly frauds, like the tricks of eusapia. but, even if all the facts recorded were frauds, such impostures, performed by savage conjurers, who certainly profess { d} to produce the phenomena, might originate, or help to originate, the respect paid to 'fetishes' and the belief in mana. but probably major ellis's researches into the religion of the tshi-speaking races throw most light on the real ideas of african fetishists. the subject is vast and complex. i am content to show that, whatever de brosses did, _we_ do not abandon a search for the motives of the savage fetishist. indeed, de brosses himself did seek and find at least one african motive, 'the conjurers (jongleurs) persuade them that little instruments in their possession are endowed with a living spirit.' so far, fetishism is spiritualism. civilised 'fetishism' de brosses did not look among civilised fetishists for the motives which he neglected among savages (i. ). tant pis pour monsieur le president. but we and our method no more stand or fall with de brosses and his, than mr. max muller's etymologies stand or fall with those in the cratylus of plato. if, in a civilised people, ancient or modern, we find a practice vaguely styled 'fetishistic,' we examine it in its details. while we have talismans, amulets, gamblers' fetiches, i do not think that, except among some children, we have anything nearly analogous to gold coast fetishism as a whole. some one seems to have called the palladium a fetish. i don't exactly know what the palladium (called a fetish by somebody) was. the hasta fetialis has been styled a fetish--an apparent abuse of language. as to the holy cross qua fetish, why discuss such free-thinking credulities? modern anthropologists--tylor, frazer, and the rest--are not under the censure appropriate to the illogical. more mischiefs of comparison the 'nemesis' (i. ) of de brosses' errors did not stay in her ravaging progress. fetishism was represented as 'the very beginning of religion,' first among the negroes, then among all races. as i, for one, persistently proclaim that the beginning of religion is an inscrutable mystery, the nemesis has somehow left me scatheless, propitiated by my piety. i said, long ago, 'the train of ideas which leads man to believe in and to treasure fetishes is _one among the earliest springs_ of religious belief.' { a} but from even this rather guarded statement i withdraw. 'no man can watch the idea of god in the making or in the beginning.' { b} still more nemesis the new nemesis is really that which i have just put far from me--namely, that 'modern savages represent everywhere the eocene stratum of religion.' they _probably_ represent an _early_ stage in religion, just as, teste. mr. max muller, they represent an early stage in language 'in savage languages we see what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language, with all its childish pranks.' { c} now, if the tongues spoken by modern savages represent the 'childhood' and 'childish pranks' of language, why should the beliefs of modern savages not represent the childhood and childish pranks of religion? i am not here averring that they do so, nor even that mr. max muller is right in _his_ remark on language. the australian blacks have been men as long as the prussian nobility. their language has had time to outgrow 'childish pranks,' but apparently it has not made use of its opportunities, according to our critic. does he know why? one need not reply to the charge that anthropologists, if they are meant, regard modern savages 'as just evolved from the earth, or the sky,' or from monkeys (i. ). 'savages have a far-stretching unknown history behind them.' 'the past of savages, i say, must have been a long past.' { } so, once more, the nemesis of de brosses fails to touch me--and, of course, to touch more learned anthropologists. there is yet another nemesis--the postulate that aryans and semites, or rather their ancestors, must have passed through the savage state. dr. tylor writes:--'so far as history is to be our criterion, progression is primary and degradation secondary. _culture must be gained before it can be lost_.' now a person who has not gained what dr. tylor calls 'culture' (_not_ in mr. arnold's sense) is a man without tools, instruments, or clothes. he is certainly, so far, like a savage; is very much lower in 'culture' than any race with which we are acquainted. as a matter of hypothesis, anyone may say that man was born 'with everything handsome about him.' he has then to account for the savage elements in greek myth and rite. for us or against us? we now hear that the worst and last penalty paid for de brosses' audacious comparison of savage with civilised superstitions is the postulate that aryan and semitic peoples have passed through a stage of savagery. 'however different the languages, customs and myths, the colour and the skulls of these modern savages might be from those of aryan and semitic people, the latter must once have passed through the same stage, must once have been what the negroes of the west coast of africa are to-day. this postulate has not been, and, according to its very nature, cannot be proved. but the mischief done by acting on such postulates is still going on, and in several cases it has come to this--that what in historical religions, such as our own, is known to be the most modern, the very last outcome, namely, the worship of relics or a belief in amulets, has been represented as the first necessary step in the evolution of all religions' (i. ). i really do not know who says that the prehistoric ancestors of aryans and semites were once in the same stage as the 'negroes of the west coast of africa are to-day.' these honest fellows are well acquainted with coined money, with the use of firearms, and other resources of civilisation, and have been in touch with missionaries, miss kingsley, traders, and tourists. the ancestors of the aryans and semites enjoyed no such advantages. mr. max muller does not tell us who says that they did. but that the ancestors of all mankind passed through a stage in which they had to develop for themselves tools, languages, clothes, and institutions, is assuredly the belief of anthropologists. a race without tools, language, clothes, pottery, and social institutions, or with these in the shape of undeveloped speech, stone knives, and 'possum or other skins, is what we call a race of savages. such we believe the ancestors of mankind to have been--at any rate after the fall. now when mr. max muller began to write his book, he accepted this postulate of anthropology (i. ). when he reached i. he abandoned and denounced this postulate. i quote his acceptance of the postulate (i. ):-- 'even mr. a. lang has to admit that we have not got much beyond fontenelle, when he wrote in the last century: '"why are the legends [myths] about men, beasts, and gods so wildly incredible and revolting? . . . the answer is that the earliest men were in a state of almost inconceivable ignorance and savagery, and that the greeks inherited their myths from people in the same savage stage (en un pareil etat de sauvagerie). look at the kaffirs and iroquois if you want to know what the earliest men were like, and remember that the very iroquois and kaffirs have a long past behind them"'--that is to say, are polite and cultivated compared to the earliest men of all. here is an uncompromising statement by fontenelle of the postulate that the greeks (an aryan people) must have passed through the same stage as modern savages--kaffirs and iroquois--now occupy. but (i. ) mr. max muller eagerly accepts the postulate:-- 'there is not a word of fontenelle's to which i should not gladly subscribe; there is no advice of his which i have not tried to follow in all my attempts to explain the myths of india and greece by an occasional reference to polynesian or african folklore.' well, if mr. max muller 'gladly subscribes,' in p. , to the postulate of an original universal stage of savagery, whence civilised races inherit their incredibly repulsive myths, why, in pp. , , does he denounce that very postulate as not proven, not capable of being proved, very mischievous, and one of the evils resulting from our method of comparing savage and civilised rites and beliefs? i must be permitted to complain that i do not know which is mr. max muller's real opinion--that given with such hearty conviction in p. , or that stated with no less earnestness in pp. , . i trust that i shall not be thought to magnify a mere slip of the pen. both passages--though, as far as i can see, self-contradictory--appear to be written with the same absence of levity. fontenelle, i own, speaks of greeks, not semites, as being originally savages. but i pointed out { } that he considered it safer to 'hedge' by making an exception of the israelites. there is really nothing in genesis against the contention that the naked, tool-less, mean, and frivolous adam was a savage. the fallacy of 'admits' as the purpose of this essay is mainly logical, i may point out the existence of a fallacy not marked, i think, in handbooks of logic. this is the fallacy of saying that an opponent 'admits' what, on the contrary, he has been the first to point out and proclaim. he is thus suggested into an attitude which is the reverse of his own. some one--i am sorry to say that i forget who he was--showed me that fontenelle, in de l'origine des fables, { a} briefly stated the anthropological theory of the origin of myths, or at least of that repulsive element in them which 'makes mythology mythological,' as mr. max muller says. i was glad to have a predecessor in a past less remote than that of eusebius of caesarea. 'a briefer and better system of mythology,' i wrote, 'could not be devised; but the mr. casaubons of this world have neglected it, and even now it is beyond their comprehension.' { b} to say this in this manner is not to '_admit_ that we have not got much beyond fontenelle.' i do not want to get beyond fontenelle. i want to go back to his 'forgotten common-sense,' and to apply his ideas with method and criticism to a range of materials which he did not possess or did not investigate. now, on p. , mr. max muller had got as far as accepting fontenelle; on pp. , he burns, as it were, that to which he had 'gladly subscribed.' conclusion as to our method all this discussion of fetishes arose out of our author's selection of the subject as an example of the viciousness of our method. he would not permit us 'simply to place side by side' savage and greek myths and customs, because it did harm (i. ); and the harm done was proved by the nemesis of de brosses. now, first, a method may be a good method, yet may be badly applied. secondly, i have shown that the nemesis does not attach to all of us modern anthropologists. thirdly, i have proved (unless i am under some misapprehension, which i vainly attempt to detect, and for which, if it exists, i apologise humbly) that mr. max muller, on p. , accepts the doctrine which he denounces on p. . { } again, i am entirely at one with mr. max muller when he says (p. ) 'we have as yet really no scientific treatment of shamanism.' this is a pressing need, but probably a physician alone could do the work--a physician double with a psychologist. see, however, the excellent pages in dr. tylor's primitive culture, and in mr. william james's principles of psychology, on 'mediumship.' the riddle theory what the philological theory needs the great desideratum of the philological method is a proof that the 'disease of language,' ex hypothesi the most fertile source of myths, is a vera causa. do simple poetical phrases, descriptive of heavenly phenomena, remain current in the popular mouth after the meanings of appellatives (bright one, dark one, &c.) have been forgotten, so that these appellatives become proper names--apollo, daphne, &c.? mr. max muller seems to think some proof of this process as a vera causa may be derived from 'folk riddles.' the riddle theory we now come, therefore, to the author's treatment of popular riddles (devinettes), so common among savages and peasants. their construction is simple: anything in nature you please is described by a poetical periphrasis, and you are asked what it is. thus geistiblindr asks, what is the dark one that goes over the earth, swallows water and wood, but is afraid of the wind? &c. or we find, what is the gold spun from one window to another? the answers, the obvious answers, are ( ) 'mist' and ( ) 'sunshine.' in mr. max muller's opinion these riddles 'could not but lead to what we call popular myths or legends.' very probably; but this does not aid us to accept the philological method. the very essence of that method is the presumed absolute loss of the meaning of, e.g. 'the dark one.' before there can be a myth, ex hypothesi the words dark one must have become hopelessly unintelligible, must have become a proper name. thus suppose, for argument's sake only, that cronos once meant dark one, and was understood in that sense. people (as in the norse riddle just cited) said, 'cronos [i.e. the dark one--meaning mist] swallows water and wood.' then they forgot that cronos was their old word for the dark one, and was mist; but they kept up, and understood, all the rest of the phrase about what mist does. the expression now ran, 'cronos [whatever that may be] swallows water and wood.' but water comes from mist, and water nourishes wood, therefore 'cronos swallows his children.' such would be the development of a myth on mr. max muller's system. he would interpret 'cronos swallows his children,' by finding, if he could, the original meaning of cronos. let us say that he did discover it to mean 'the dark one.' then he might think cronos meant 'night;' 'mist' he would hardly guess. that is all very clear, but the point is this--in devinettes, or riddles, the meaning of 'the dark one' is _not_ lost:-- 'thy riddle is _easy_ blind gest, to read'-- heidrick answers. what the philological method of mythology needs is to prove that such poetical statements about natural phenomena as the devinettes contain survived in the popular mouth, and were perfectly intelligible except just the one mot d'enigme--say, 'the dark one.' that (call it cronos='dark one'), and that alone, became unintelligible in the changes of language, and so had to be accepted as a proper name, cronos--a god who swallows things at large. where is the proof of such endurance of intelligible phrases with just the one central necessary word obsolete and changed into a mysterious proper name? the world is full of proper names which have lost their meaning--athene, achilles, artemis, and so on but we need proof that poetical sayings, or riddles, survive and are intelligible except one word, which, being unintelligible, becomes a proper name. riddles, of course, prove nothing of this kind:-- thy riddle is easy blind gest to read! yet mr. max muller offers the suggestion that the obscurity of many of these names of mythical gods and heroes 'may be due . . . to the riddles to which they had given rise, and which would have ceased to be riddles if the names had been clear and intelligible, like those of helios and selene' (i. ). people, he thinks, in making riddles 'would avoid the ordinary appellatives, and the use of little-known names in most mythologies would thus find an intelligible explanation.' again, 'we can see how essential it was that in such mythological riddles the principal agents should not be called by their regular names.' this last remark, indeed, is obvious. to return to the norse riddle of the dark one that swallows wood and water. it would never do in a riddle to call the dark one by his ordinary name, 'mist.' you would not amuse a rural audience by asking 'what is the mist that swallows wood and water?' that would be even easier than mr. burnand's riddle for very hot weather:-- my first is a boot, my second is a jack. conceivably mr. max muller may mean that in riddles an almost obsolete word was used to designate the object. perhaps, instead of 'the dark one,' a peasant would say, 'what is the rooky one?' but as soon as nobody knew what 'the rooky one' meant, the riddle would cease to exist--rooky one and all. you cannot imagine several generations asking each other-- what is the rooky one that swallows? if nobody knew the answer. a man who kept boring people with a mere 'sell' would be scouted; and with the death of the answerless riddle the difficult word 'rooky' would die. but mr. max muller says, 'riddles would cease to be riddles if the names had been clear and intelligible.' the reverse is the fact. in the riddles he gives there are seldom any 'names;' but the epithets and descriptions are as clear as words can be:-- who are the mother and children in a house, all having bald heads?--the moon and stars. language cannot be clearer. yet the riddle has not 'ceased to be a riddle,' as mr. max muller thinks it must do, though the words are 'clear and intelligible.' on the other hand, if the language is _not_ clear and intelligible, the riddle would cease to exist. it would not amuse if nobody understood it. you might as well try to make yourself socially acceptable by putting conundrums in etruscan as by asking riddles in words not clear and intelligible in themselves, though obscure in their reference. the difficulty of a riddle consists, not in the obscurity of words or names, but in the description of familiar things by terms, clear as terms, denoting their appearance and action. the mist is described as 'dark,' 'swallowing,' 'one that fears the wind,' and so forth. the _words_ are pellucid. thus 'ordinary appellatives' (i. ) are _not_ 'avoided' in riddles, though _names_ (sun, mist) cannot be used in the question because they give the answer to the riddle. for all these reasons ancient riddles cannot explain the obscurity of mythological names. as soon as the name was too obscure, the riddle and the name would be forgotten, would die together. so we know as little as ever of the purely hypothetical process by which a riddle, or popular poetical saying, remains intelligible in a language, while the mot d'enigme, becoming unintelligible, turns into a proper name--say, cronos. yet the belief in this process as a vera causa is essential to our author's method. here mr. max muller warns us that his riddle theory is not meant to explain 'the obscurities of _all_ mythological names. this is a stratagem that should be stopped from the very first.' it were more graceful to have said 'a misapprehension.' another 'stratagem' i myself must guard against. i do not say that _no_ unintelligible strings of obsolete words may continue to live in the popular mouth. old hymns, ritual speeches, and charms may and do survive, though unintelligible. they are reckoned all the more potent, because all the more mysterious. but an unintelligible riddle or poetical saying does not survive, so we cannot thus account for mythology as a disease of language. mordvinian mythology still in the very natural and laudable pursuit of facts which will support the hypothesis of a disease of language, mr. max muller turns to mordvinian mythology. 'we have the accounts of real scholars' about mordvinian prayers, charms, and proverbs (i. ). the mordvinians, ugrian tribes, have the usual departmental nature-gods--as chkai, god of the sun (chi=sun). he 'lives in the sun, or is the sun' (i. ). his wife is the earth or earth goddess, vediava. they have a large family, given to incest. the morals of the mordvinian gods are as lax as those of mordvinian mortals. (compare the myths and morals of samos, and the samian hera.) athwart the decent god chkai comes the evil god chaitan--obviously shaitan, a mahommedan contamination. there are plenty of minor gods, and spirits good and bad. dawn was a mordvinian girl; in australia she was a lubra addicted to lubricity. _how does this help philological mythology_? mr. max muller is pleased to find solar and other elemental gods among the mordvinians. but the discovery in no way aids his special theory. nobody has ever denied that gods who are the sun or live in the sun are familiar, and are the centres of myths among most races. i give examples in c. and m. (pp. , , new zealand and north america) and in m. r. r. (i. - , america, africa, australia, aztec, hervey islands, samoa, and so on). such nature-myths--of sun, sky, earth--are perhaps universal; but they do not arise from disease of language. these myths deal with natural phenomena plainly and explicitly. the same is the case among the mordvinians. 'the few names preserved to us are clearly the names of the agents behind the salient phenomena of nature, in some cases quite intelligible, in others easily restored to their original meaning.' the meanings of the names not being forgotten, but obvious, there is no disease of language. all this does not illustrate the case of greek divine names by resemblance, but by difference. real scholars know what mordvinian divine names mean. they do not know what many greek divine names mean--as hera, artemis, apollo, athene; there is even much dispute about demeter. no anthropologist, i hope, is denying that nature-myths and nature-gods exist. we are only fighting against the philological effort to get at the elemental phenomena which may be behind hera, artemis, athene, apollo, by means of contending etymological conjectures. we only oppose the philological attempt to account for all the features in a god's myth as manifestations of the elemental qualities denoted by a name which may mean at pleasure dawn, storm, clear air, thunder, wind, twilight, water, or what you will. granting chkai to be the sun, does that explain why he punishes people who bake bread on friday? ( .) our opponent does not seem to understand the portee of our objections. the same remarks apply to the statement of finnish mythology here given, and familiar in the kalewala. departmental divine beings of natural phenomena we find everywhere, or nearly everywhere, in company, of course, with other elements of belief--totemism, worship of spirits, perhaps with monotheism in the background. that is as much our opinion as mr. max muller's. what we are opposing is the theory of disease of language, and the attempt to explain, by philological conjectures, gods and heroes whose obscure _names_ are the only sources of information. helios is the sun-god; he is, or lives in, the sun. apollo may have been the sun-god too, but we still distrust the attempts to prove this by contending guesses at the origin of his name. moreover, if all greek gods could be certainly explained, by undisputed etymologies, as originally elemental, we still object to such logic as that which turns saranyu into 'grey dawn.' we still object to the competing interpretations by which almost every detail of very composite myths is explained as a poetical description of some elemental process or phenomenon. apollo _may_ once have been the sun, but why did he make love as a dog? lettish mythology these remarks apply equally well to our author's dissertation on lettish mythology (ii. et seq.). the meaning of statements about the sun and sky 'is not to be mistaken in the mythology of the letts.' so here is no disease of language. the meaning is not to be mistaken. sun and moon and so on are spoken of by their natural unmistakable names, or in equally unmistakable poetical periphrases, as in riddles. the daughter of the sun hung a red cloak on a great oak-tree. this 'can hardly have been meant for anything but the red of the evening or the setting sun, sometimes called her red cloak' (ii. ). exactly so, and the australians of encounter bay also think that the sun is a woman. 'she has a lover among the dead, who has given her a red kangaroo skin, and in this she appears at her rising.' { } this tale was told to mr. meyer in , before mr. max muller's dawn had become 'inevitable,' as he says. the lettish and australian myths are folk-poetry; they have nothing to do with a disease of language or forgotten meanings of words which become proper names. all this is surely distinct. we proclaim the abundance of poetical nature-myths; we 'disable' the hypothesis that they arise from a disease of language. the chances of fancy one remark has to be added. mannhardt regarded many or most of the philological solutions of gods into dawn or sun, or thunder or cloud, as empty jeux d'esprit. and justly, for there is no name named among men which a philologist cannot easily prove to be a synonym or metaphorical term for wind or weather, dawn or sun. whatever attribute any word connotes, it can be shown to connote some attribute of dawn or sun. here parody comes in, and gives a not overstrained copy of the method, applying it to mr. gladstone, dr. nansen, or whom you please. and though a jest is not a refutation, a parody may plainly show the absolutely capricious character of the philological method. artemis i do not here examine our author's constructive work. i have often criticised its logical method before, and need not repeat myself. the etymologies, of course, i leave to be discussed by scholars. as we have seen, they are at odds on the subject of phonetic laws and their application to mythological names. on the mosses and bogs of this debatable land some of them propose to erect the science of comparative mythology. meanwhile we look on, waiting till the mosses shall support a ponderous edifice. our author's treatment of artemis, however, has for me a peculiar interest (ii. - ). i really think that it is not mere vanity which makes me suppose that in this instance i am at least one of the authors whom mr. max muller is writing _about_ without name or reference. if so, he here sharply distinguishes between me on the one hand and 'classical scholars' on the other, a point to which we shall return. he says--i cite textually (ii. ):-- artemis 'the last of the great greek goddesses whom we have to consider is artemis. her name, we shall see, has received many interpretations, but none that can be considered as well established--none that, even if it were so, would help us much in disentangling the many myths told about her. easy to understand as her character seems when we confine our attention to homer, it becomes extremely complicated when we take into account the numerous local forms of worship of which she was the object. 'we have here a good opportunity of comparing the interpretations put forward by _those who think that a study of the myths and customs of uncivilised tribes can help us towards an understanding of greek deities, and the views advocated by classical scholars_ { } who draw their information, first of all, from greek sources, and afterwards only from a comparison of the myths and customs of cognate races, more particularly from what is preserved to us in ancient vedic literature, before they plunge into the whirlpool of ill-defined and unintelligible kafir folklore. the former undertake to explain artemis by showing us the progress of human intelligence from the coarsest spontaneous and primitive ideas to the most beautiful and brilliant conception of poets and sculptors. they point out traces of hideous cruelties amounting almost to cannibalism, and of a savage cult of beasts in the earlier history of the goddess, who was celebrated by dances of young girls disguised as bears or imitating the movements of bears, &c. she was represented as [greek], and this idea, we are told, was borrowed from the east, which is a large term. we are told that her most ancient history is to be studied in arkadia, where we can see the goddess still closely connected with the worship of animals, a characteristic feature of the lowest stage of religious worship among the lowest races of mankind. we are then told the old story of lykaon, the king of arkadia, who had a beautiful daughter called kallisto. as zeus fell in love with her, hera from jealousy changed her into a bear, and artemis killed her with one of her arrows. her child, however, was saved by hermes, at the command of zeus; and while kallisto was changed to the constellation of the ursa, her son arkas became the ancestor of the arkadians. here, we are told, we have a clear instance of men being the descendants of animals, and of women being changed into wild beasts and stars--beliefs well known among the cahrocs and the kamilarois.' * * * * * here i recognise mr. max muller's version of my remarks on artemis. { a} our author has just remarked in a footnote that schwartz 'does not mention the title of the book where his evidence has been given.' it _is_ an inconvenient practice, but with mr. max muller this reticence is by no means unusual. _he_ 'does not mention the book where 'my 'evidence is given.' anthropologists are here (unless i am mistaken) contrasted with 'classical scholars who draw their information, first of all, from greek sources.' i need not assure anyone who has looked into my imperfect works that i also drew my information about artemis 'first of all from greek sources,' in the original. many of these sources, to the best of my knowledge, are not translated: one, homer, i have translated myself, with professor butcher and messrs. leaf and myers, my old friends. the idea and representation of artemis as [greek] (many-breasted), 'we are told, was borrowed from the east, a large term.' i say 'she is even blended in ritual with a monstrous many-breasted divinity of oriental religion.' { b} is this 'large term' too vague? then consider the artemis of ephesus and 'the alabaster statuette of the goddess' in roscher's lexikon, p. . compare, for an occidental parallel, the many- breasted goddess of the maguey plant, in mexico. { } our author writes, 'we are told that artemis's most ancient history is to be studied in arkadia.' my words are, 'the attic and arcadian legends of artemis are confessedly _among the oldest_.' why should 'attic' and the qualifying phrase be omitted? otfried muller mr. max muller goes on--citing, as i also do, otfried muller:--'otfried muller in treated the same myth without availing himself of the light now to be derived from the cahrocs and the kamilarois. he quoted pausanias as stating that the tumulus of kallisto was near the sanctuary of artemis kalliste, and he simply took kallisto for an epithet of artemis, which, as in many other cases, had been taken for a separate personality.' otfried also pointed out, as we both say, that at brauron, in attica, artemis was served by young maidens called [greek] (bears); and he concluded, 'this cannot possibly be a freak of chance, but the metamorphosis [of kallisto] has its foundation in the fact that the animal [the bear] was sacred to the goddess.' thus it is acknowledged that artemis, under her name of callisto, was changed into a she-bear, and had issue, arkas--whence the arcadians. mr. max muller proceeds (ii. )--'he [otfried] did not go so far as some modern mythologists who want us to believe that originally the animal, the she-bear, was the goddess, and that a later worship had replaced the ancient worship of the animal pur et simple.' did i, then, tell anybody that 'originally the she-bear was the goddess'? no, i gave my reader, not a dogma, but the choice between two alternative hypotheses. i said, 'it will become probable that the she-bear actually _was_ the goddess at an extremely remote period, or at all events that the goddess succeeded to, and threw her protection over, an ancient worship of the animal' (ii. , ). mr. max muller's error, it will be observed, consists in writing 'and' where i wrote 'or.' to make such rather essential mistakes is human; to give references is convenient, and not unscholarly. in fact, this is mr. max muller's own opinion, for he next reports his anonymous author (myself) as saying ('we are now told'), 'though without any reference to pausanias or any other greek writers, that the young maidens, the [greek], when dancing around artemis, were clad in bearskins, and that this is a pretty frequent custom in the dances of totemic races. in support of this, however, we are not referred to really totemic races . . . but to the hirpi of italy, and to the [greek] in egypt.' of course i never said that the [greek] danced around artemis! i did say, after observing that they were described as 'playing the bear,' 'they even in archaic ages wore bear-skins,' for which i cited claus { a} and referred to suchier, { b} including the reference in brackets [ ] to indicate that i borrowed it from a book which i was unable to procure. { a} i then gave references for the classical use of a saffron vest by the [greek]. beast dances for the use of beast-skins in such dances among totemists i cite bancroft (iii. ) and (m. r. r. ii. ) robinson { b} (same authority). i may now also refer to robertson smith: { c} 'the meaning of such a disguise [a fish-skin, among the assyrians] _is well known from many savage rituals_; it means that the worshipper presents himself as a fish,' as a bear, or what not. { d} doubtless i might have referred more copiously to savage rituals, but really i thought that savage dances in beast-skins were familiar from catlin's engravings of mandan and nootka wolf or buffalo dances. i add that the brauronian rites 'point to a time when the goddess was herself a bear,' having suggested an alternative theory, and added confirmation. { e} but i here confess that while beast-dances and wearing of skins of sacred beasts are common, to prove these sacred beasts to be totems is another matter. it is so far inferred rather than demonstrated. next i said that the evolution of the bear into the classical artemis 'almost escapes our inquiry. we find nothing more akin to it than the relation borne by the samoan gods to the various totems in which they are supposed to be manifest.' this mr. max muller quotes (of course, without reference or marks of quotation) and adds, 'pace dr. codrington.' have i incurred dr. codrington's feud? he doubts or denies totems in melanesia. is samoa in melanesia, par exemple? { a} our author (i. ) says that 'dr. codrington will have no totems in his islands.' but samoa is not one of the doctor's fortunate isles. for samoa i refer, not to dr. codrington, but to mr. turner. { b} in samoa the 'clans' revere each its own sacred animals, 'but combine with it the belief that the spiritual deity reveals itself in each separate animal.' { c} i expressly contrast the samoan creed with 'pure totemism.' { d} so much for our author's success in stating and criticising my ideas. if he pleases, i will not speak of samoan totems, but of samoan sacred animals. it is better and more exact. the view of classical scholars they (ii. ) begin by pointing out artemis's connection with apollo and the moon. so do i! 'if apollo soon disengages himself from the sun . . . artemis retains as few traces of any connection with the moon.' { e} 'if apollo was of solar origin,' asks the author (ii. ), 'what could his sister artemis have been, from the very beginning, if not some goddess connected with the moon?' very likely; quis negavit? then our author, like myself (loc. cit.), dilates on artemis as 'sister of apollo.' 'her chapels,' i say, 'are in the wild wood; she is the abbess of the forest nymphs,' 'chaste and fair, the maiden of the precise life.' how odd! the classical scholar and i both say the same things; and i add a sonnet to artemis in this aspect, rendered by me from the hippolytus of euripides. could a classical scholar do more? our author then says that the greek sportsman 'surprised the beasts in their lairs' by night. not very sportsmanlike! i don't find it in homer or in xenophon. oh for exact references! the moon, the nocturnal sportswoman, is artemis: here we have also the authority of theodore de banville (diane court dans la noire foret). and the nocturnal hunt is dian's; so she is protectress of the chase. exactly what i said! { a} all this being granted by me beforehand (though possibly that might not be guessed from my critic), our author will explain artemis's human sacrifice of a girl in a fawn-skin--bloodshed, bear and all--with no aid from kamilarois, cahrocs, and samoans. mr. max muller's explanation greek races traced to zeus--usually disguised, for amorous purposes, as a brute. the arcadians had an eponymous heroic ancestor, 'areas;' they also worshipped artemis. artemis, as a virgin, could not become a mother of areas by zeus, or by anybody. callisto was also artemis. callisto was the mother of areas. but, to save the character of artemis, callisto was now represented as one of her nymphs. then, areas reminding the arcadians of [greek] (a bear), while they knew the bear constellation, 'what was more natural than that callisto should be changed into an arktos, a she-bear . . . placed by zeus, her lover, in the sky' as the bear? nothing could be more natural to a savage; they all do it. { b} but that an aryan, a greek, should talk such nonsense as to say that he was the descendant of a bear who was changed into a star, and all merely because 'areas reminded the arcadians of arktos,' seems to me an extreme test of belief, and a very unlikely thing to occur. wider application of the theory let us apply the explanation more widely. say that a hundred animal names are represented in the known totem-kindreds of the world. then had each such kin originally an eponymous hero whose name, like that of areas in arcady, accidentally 'reminded' his successors of a beast, so that a hundred beasts came to be claimed as ancestors? perhaps this was what occurred; the explanation, at all events, fits the wolf of the delawares and the other ninety-nine as well as it fits the arcades. by a curious coincidence all the names of eponymous heroes chanced to remind people of beasts. but _whence come the names of eponymous heroes_? from their tribes, of course--ion from ionians, dorus from dorians, and so on. therefore (in the hundred cases) the names of the _tribes_ derive from names of animals. indeed, the names of totem-kins _are_ the names of animals--wolves, bears, cranes. mr. max muller remarks that the name 'arcades' _may_ come from [greek], a bear (i. ); so the arcadians (proselenoi, the oldest of races, 'men before the moon') may be--bears. so, of course (in this case), they would necessarily be bears _before_ they invented areas, an eponymous hero whose name is derived from the pre- existing tribal name. his name, then, could not, before they invented it, remind them of a bear. it was from their name [greek] (bears) that they developed _his_ name areas, as in all such cases of eponymous heroes. i slightly incline to hold that this is exactly what occurred. a bear-kin claimed descent from a bear, and later, developing an eponymous hero, areas, regarded him as son of a bear. philologically 'it is possible;' i say no more. the bear dance 'the dances of the maidens called [greek], would receive an easy interpretation. they were arkades, and why not [greek] (bears)?' and if [greek], why not clad in bear-skins, and all the rest? (ii. ). this is our author's explanation; it is also my own conjecture. the arcadians were bears, knew it, and possibly danced a bear dance, as mandans or nootkas dance a buffalo dance or a wolf dance. but all such dances are not totemistic. they have often other aims. one only names such dances totemistic when performed by people who call themselves by the name of the animal represented, and claim descent from him. our author says genially, 'if anybody prefers to say that the arctos was something like a totem of the arcadians . . . why not?' but, if the arctos was a totem, that fact explains the callisto story and attic bear dance, while the philological theory--mr. max muller's theory--does not explain it. what is oddest of all, mr. max muller, as we have seen, says that the bear- dancing girls were 'arkades.' now we hear of no bear dances in arcadia. the dancers were athenian girls. this, indeed, is the point. we have a bear callisto (artemis) in arcady, where a folk etymology might explain it by stretching a point. but no etymology will explain bear dances to artemis in attica. so we find bears doubly connected with artemis. the athenians were not arcadians. as to the meaning and derivation of artemis, or artamis, our author knows nothing (ii. ). i say, 'even [greek] ([greek], bear) has occurred to inventive men.' possibly i invented it myself, though not addicted to etymological conjecture. the fire-walk the method of psychical research as a rule, mythology asks for no aid from psychical research. but there are problems in religious rite and custom where the services of the cendrillon of the sciences, the despised youngest sister, may be of use. as an example i take the famous mysterious old fire-rite of the hirpi, or wolf-kin, of mount soracte. i shall first, following mannhardt, and making use of my own trifling researches in ancient literature, describe the rite itself. mount soracte everyone has heard of mount soracte, white with shining snow, the peak whose distant cold gave zest to the blazing logs on the hearth of horace. within sight of his windows was practised, by men calling themselves 'wolves' (hirpi), a rite of extreme antiquity and enigmatic character. on a peak of soracte, now monte di silvestre, stood the ancient temple of soranus, a sabine sun-god. { a} virgil { b} identifies soranus with apollo. at the foot of the cliff was the precinct of feronia, a sabine goddess. mr. max muller says that feronia corresponds to the vedic bhuranyu, a name of agni, the vedic fire-god (ii. ). mannhardt prefers, of course, a derivation from _far_ (grain), as in confarreatio, the ancient roman bride-cake form of marriage. feronia mater=sanskrit bharsani mata, getreide mutter. { a} it is a pity that philologists so rarely agree in their etymologies. in greek the goddess is called anthephorus, philostephanus, and even persephone--probably the persephone of flowers and garlands. { b} hirpi sorani once a year a fete of soranus and feronia was held, in the precinct of the goddess at soracte. the ministrants were members of certain local families called hirpi (wolves). pliny says, { c} 'a few families, styled hirpi, at a yearly sacrifice, walk over a burnt pile of wood, yet are not scorched. on this account they have a perpetual exemption, by decree of the senate, from military and all other services.' virgil makes aruns say, { d} 'highest of gods, apollo, guardian of soracte, thou of whom we are the foremost worshippers, thou for whom the burning pile of pinewood is fed, while we, strong in faith, walk through the midst of the fire, and press our footsteps in the glowing mass. . . .' strabo gives the same facts. servius, the old commentator on virgil, confuses the hirpi, not unnaturally, with the sabine 'clan,' the hirpini. he says, { e} 'varro, always an enemy of religious belief, writes that the hirpini, when about to walk the fire, smear the soles of their feet with a drug' (medicamentum). silius italicus (v. ) speaks of the ancient rite, when 'the holy bearer of the bow (apollo) rejoices in the kindled pyres, and the ministrant thrice gladly bears entrails to the god through the harmless flames.' servius gives an aetiological myth to account for the practice. 'wolves came and carried off the entrails from the fire; shepherds, following them, were killed by mortal vapours from a cave; thence ensued a pestilence, because they had followed the wolves. an oracle bade them "play the wolf," i.e. live on plunder, whence they were called hirpi, wolves,' an attempt to account for a wolf clan-name. there is also a story that, when the grave of feronia seemed all on fire, and the people were about carrying off the statue, it suddenly grew green again. { a} mannhardt decides that the so-called wolves leaped through the sun-god's fire, in the interest of the health of the community. he elucidates this by a singular french popular custom, held on st. john's eve, at jumieges. the brethren of the green wolf select a leader called green wolf, there is an ecclesiastical procession, cure and all, a souper maigre, the lighting of the usual st. john's fire, a dance round the fire, the capture of next year's green wolf, a mimicry of throwing him into the fire, a revel, and next day a loaf of pain benit, above a pile of green leaves, is carried about. { b} the wolf, thinks mannhardt, is the vegetation-spirit in animal form. many examples of the 'corn-wolf' in popular custom are given by mr. frazer in the golden bough (ii. - ). the hirpi of soracte, then, are so called because they play the part of corn-wolves, or korndamonen in wolf shape. but mannhardt adds, 'this _seems_, at least, to be the explanation.' he then combats kuhn's theory of feronia as lightning goddess. { a} he next compares the strange arcadian cannibal rites on mount lycaeus. { b} mannhardt's deficiency in all this ingenious reasoning, mannhardt misses a point. what the hirpi did was _not_ merely to leap through light embers, as in the roman palilia, and the parallel doings in scotland, england, france, and elsewhere, at midsummer (st. john's eve). the hirpi would not be freed from military service and all other state imposts for merely doing what any set of peasants do yearly for nothing. nor would varro have found it necessary to explain so easy and common a feat by the use of a drug with which the feet were smeared. mannhardt, as mr. max muller says, ventured himself little 'among red skins and black skins.' he read dr. tylor, and appreciated the method of illustrating ancient rites and beliefs from the living ways of living savages. { c} but, in practice, he mainly confined himself to illustrating ancient rites and beliefs by survival in modern rural folk-lore. i therefore supplement mannhardt's evidence from european folk-lore by evidence from savage life, and by a folk-lore case which mannhardt did not know. the fire-walk a modern student is struck by the cool way in which the ancient poets, geographers, and commentators mention a startling circumstance, the fire- walk. the only hint of explanation is the statement that the drug or juice of herbs preserved the hirpi from harm. that theory may be kept in mind, and applied if it is found useful. virgil's theory that the ministrants walk, pietate freti, corresponds to mrs. wesley's belief, when, after praying, she 'waded the flames' to rescue her children from the burning parsonage at epworth. the hypothesis of iamblichus, when he writes about the ecstatic or 'possessed' persons who cannot be injured by fire, is like that of modern spiritualists--the 'spirit' or 'daemon' preserves them unharmed. i intentionally omit cases which are vaguely analogous to that of the hirpi. in icelandic sagas, in the relations of the old jesuit missionaries, in the travels of pallas and gmelin, we hear of medicine- men and berserks who take liberties with red-hot metal, live coals, and burning wood. thus in the icelandic flatey book (vol. i. p. ) we read about the fighting evangelist of iceland, a story of thangbrandr and the foreign berserkir. 'the berserkir said: "i can walk through the burning fire with my bare feet." then a great fire was made, which thangbrandr hallowed, and the berserkir went into it without fear, and burned his feet'--the christian spell of thangbrandr being stronger than the heathen spell of the berserkir. what the saga says is not evidence, and some of the other tales are merely traditional. others may be explained, perhaps, by conjuring. the mediaeval ordeal by fire may also be left on one side. in lockhart published a translation of the church service for the ordeal by fire, a document given, he says, by busching in die vorzeit for . the accused communicates before carrying the red-hot iron bar, or walking on the red-hot ploughshare. the consecrated wafer is supposed to preserve him from injury, if he be guiltless. he carries the iron for nine yards, after which his hands are sealed up in a linen cloth and examined at the end of three days. 'if he be found clear of scorch or scar, glory to god.' lockhart calls the service 'one of the most extraordinary records of the craft, the audacity, and the weakness of mankind.' { } the fraud is more likely to have lain in the pretended failure to find scorch or scar than in any method of substituting cold for hot iron, or of preventing the metal from injuring the subject of the ordeal. the rite did not long satisfy the theologians and jurists of the middle ages. it has been discussed by lingard in his history of england, and by dr. e. b. tylor in primitive culture. for the purpose of the present inquiry i also omit all the rites of leaping sportfully, and of driving cattle through light fires. of these cases, from the roman palilia, or parilia, downwards, there is a useful collection in brand's popular antiquities under the heading 'midsummer eve.' one exception must be made for a passage from torreblanca's demonologia (p. ). people are said 'pyras circumire et transilire in futuri mali averruncatione'--to 'go round about and leap over lighted pyres for the purpose of averting future evils,' as in mannhardt's theory of the hirpi. this may be connected with the bulgarian rite, to be described later, but, as a rule, in all these instances, the fire is a light one of straw, and no sort of immunity is claimed by the people who do not walk through, but leap across it. these kinds of analogous examples, then, it suffices merely to mention. for the others, in all affairs of this sort, the wide diffusion of a tale of miracle is easily explained. the fancy craves for miracles, and the universal mode of inventing a miracle is to deny the working, on a given occasion, of a law of nature. gravitation was suspended, men floated in air, inanimate bodies became agile, or fire did not burn. no less natural than the invention of the myth is the attempt to feign it by conjuring or by the use of some natural secret. but in the following modern instances the miracle of passing through the fire uninjured is apparently feigned with considerable skill, or is performed by the aid of some secret of nature not known to modern chemistry. the evidence is decidedly good enough to prove that in europe, india, and polynesia the ancient rite of the hirpi of soracte is still a part of religious or customary ceremony. fijian fire-walk the case which originally drew my attention to this topic is that given by mr. basil thomson in his south sea yarns (p. ). mr. thomson informs me that he wrote his description on the day after he witnessed the ceremony, a precaution which left no room for illusions of memory. of course, in describing a conjuring trick, one who is not an expert records, not what actually occurred, but what he was able to see, and the chances are that he did not see, and therefore omits, an essential circumstance, while he misstates other circumstances. i am informed by mrs. steel, the author of the potter's thumb and other stories of indian life, that, in watching an indian conjurer, she generally, or frequently, detects his method. she says that the conjurer often begins by whirling rapidly before the eyes of the spectators a small polished skull of a monkey, and she is inclined to think that the spectators who look at this are, in some way, more easily deluded. these facts are mentioned that i may not seem unaware of what can be said to impugn the accuracy of the descriptions of the fire rite, as given by mr. thomson and other witnesses. mr. thomson says that the wesleyan missionaries have nearly made a clean sweep of all heathen ceremonial in fiji. 'but in one corner of fiji, the island of nbengga, a curious observance of mythological origin has escaped the general destruction, probably because the worthy iconoclasts had never heard of it.' the myth tells how the ancestor of the clan received the gift of fire-walking from a god, and the existence of the myth raises a presumption in favour of the antiquity of the observance. * * * * * 'once every year the masawe, a dracaena that grows in profusion on the grassy hillsides of the island, becomes fit to yield the sugar of which its fibrous root is full. to render it fit to eat, the roots must be baked among hot stones for four days. a great pit is dug, and filled with large stones and blazing logs, and when these have burned down, and the stones are at white heat, the oven is ready for the masawe. it is at this stage that the clan na ivilankata, favoured of the gods, is called on to "leap into the oven" (rikata na lovo), and walk unharmed upon the hot stones that would scorch and wither the feet of any but the descendants of the dauntless tui nkualita. twice only had europeans been fortunate enough to see the masawe cooked, and so marvellous had been the tales they told, and so cynical the scepticism with which they had been received, that nothing short of another performance before witnesses and the photographic camera would have satisfied the average "old hand." 'as we steamed up to the chiefs village of waisoma, a cloud of blue smoke rolling up among the palms told us that the fire was newly lighted. we found a shallow pit, nineteen feet wide, dug in the sandy soil, a stone's throw from high-water mark, in a small clearing among the cocoanuts between the beach and the dense forest. the pit was piled high with great blazing logs and round stones the size of a man's head. mingled with the crackling roar of the fire were loud reports as splinters flew off from the stones, warning us to guard our eyes. a number of men were dragging up more logs and rolling them into the blaze, while, above all, on the very brink of the fiery pit, stood jonathan dambea, directing the proceedings with an air of noble calm. as the stones would not be hot enough for four hours, there was ample time to hear the tradition that warrants the observance of the strange ceremony we were to see. 'when we were at last summoned, the fire had been burning for more than four hours. the pit was filled with a white-hot mass shooting out little tongues of white flame, and throwing out a heat beside which the scorching sun was a pleasant relief. a number of men were engaged, with long poles to which a loop of thick vine had been attached, in noosing the pieces of unburnt wood by twisting the pole, like a horse's twitch, until the loop was tight, and dragging the log out by main force. when the wood was all out there remained a conical pile of glowing stones in the middle of the pit. ten men now drove the butts of green saplings into the base of the pile, and held the upper end while a stout vine was passed behind the row of saplings. a dozen men grasped each end of the vine, and with loud shouts hauled with all their might. the saplings, like the teeth of an enormous rake, tore through the pile of stones, flattening them out towards the opposite edge of the pit. the saplings were then driven in on the other side and the stones raked in the opposite direction, then sideways, until the bottom of the pit was covered with an even layer of hot stones. this process had taken fully half an hour, but any doubt as to the heat of the stones at the end was set at rest by the tongues of flame that played continually among them. the cameras were hard at work, and a large crowd of people pressed inwards towards the pit as the moment drew near. they were all excited except jonathan, who preserved, even in the supreme moment, the air of holy calm that never leaves his face. all eyes are fixed expectant on the dense bush behind the clearing, whence the shadrachs, meshachs and abednegos of the pacific are to emerge. there is a cry of "vutu! vutu!" and forth from the bush, two and two, march fifteen men, dressed in garlands and fringes. they tramp straight to the brink of the pit. the leading pair show something like fear in their faces, but do not pause, perhaps because the rest would force them to move forward. they step down upon the stones and continue their march round the pit, planting their feet squarely and firmly on each stone. the cameras snap, the crowd surges forward, the bystanders fling in great bundles of green leaves. but the bundles strike the last man of the procession and cut him off from his fellows; so he stays where he is, trampling down the leaves as they are thrown to line the pit, in a dense cloud of steam from the boiling sap. the rest leap back to his assistance, shouting and trampling, and the pit turns into the mouth of an inferno, filled with dusky frenzied fiends, half seen through the dense volume that rolls up to heaven and darkens the sunlight. after the leaves, palm-leaf baskets of the dracaena root are flung to them, more leaves, and then bystanders and every one join in shovelling earth over all till the pit is gone, and a smoking mound of fresh earth takes its place. this will keep hot for four days, and then the masawe will be cooked. 'as the procession had filed up to the pit, by a preconcerted arrangement with the noble jonathan, a large stone had been hooked out of the pit to the feet of one of the party, who poised a pocket-handkerchief over it, and dropped it lightly upon the stone when the first man leapt into the oven, and snatched what remained of it up as the last left the stones. during the fifteen or twenty seconds it lay there every fold that touched the stone was charred, and the rest of it scorched yellow. so the stones were not cool. we caught four or five of the performers as they came out, and closely examined their feet. they were cool, and showed no trace of scorching, nor were their anklets of dried tree-fern leaf burnt. this, jonathan explained, is part of the miracle; for dried tree-fern is as combustible as tinder, and there were flames shooting out among the stones. sceptics had affirmed that the skin of a fijian's foot being a quarter of an inch thick, he would not feel a burn. whether this be true or not of the ball and heel, the instep is covered with skin no thicker than our own, and we saw the men plant their insteps fairly on the stone.' * * * * * mr. thomson's friend, jonathan, said that young men had been selected because they would look better in a photograph, and, being inexperienced, they were afraid. a stranger would share the gift if he went in with one of the tribe. some years ago a man fell and burned his shoulders. 'any trick?' 'here jonathan's ample face shrunk smaller, and a shadow passed over his candid eye.' mr. thomson concludes: 'perhaps the na ivilankata clan have no secret, and there is nothing wonderful in their performance; but, miracle or not, i am very glad i saw it.' the handkerchief dropped on the stone is 'alive to testify to it.' mr. thomson's photograph of the scene is ill-developed, and the fumes of steam somewhat interfere with the effect. a rough copy is published in folk-lore for september, , but the piece could only be reproduced by a delicate drawing with the brush. the parallel to the rite of the hirpi is complete, except that red-hot stones, not the pyre of pine-embers, is used in fiji. mr. thomson has heard of a similar ceremony in the cook group of islands. as in ancient italy, so in fiji, a certain _clan_ have the privilege of fire-walking. it is far enough from fiji to southern india, as it is far enough from mount soracte to fiji. but in southern india the klings practise the rite of the hirpi and the na ivilankata. i give my informant's letter exactly as it reached me, though it has been published before in longman's magazine: kling fire-walk 'dear sir,--observing from your note in longman's magazine that you have mislaid my notes re fire-walking, i herewith repeat them. i have more than once seen it done by the "klings," as the low-caste tamil-speaking hindus from malabar are called, in the straits settlements. on one occasion i was present at a "fire-walking" held in a large tapioca plantation in province wellesley, before many hundreds of spectators, all the hindu coolies from the surrounding estates being mustered. a trench had been dug about twenty yards long by six feet wide and two deep. this was piled with faggots and small wood four or five feet high. this was lighted at midday, and by four p.m. the trench was a bed of red-hot ashes, the heat from which was so intense that the men who raked and levelled it with long poles could not stand it for more than a minute at a time. a few yards from the end of the trench a large hole had been dug and filled with water. when all was ready, six men, ordinary coolies, dressed only in their "dholis," or loin-cloths, stepped out of the crowd, and, amidst tremendous excitement and a horrible noise of conches and drums, passed over the burning trench from end to end, in single file, at a quick walk, plunging one after the other into the water. not one of them showed the least sign of injury. they had undergone some course of preparation by their priest, not a brahman, but some kind of devil-doctor or medicine-man, and, as i understood it, they took on themselves and expiated the sins of the kling community for the past year (a big job, if thieving and lying count; probably not). they are not, however, always so lucky, for i heard that on the next occasion one of the men fell and was terribly burnt, thus destroying the whole effect of the ceremony. i do not think this to be any part of the brahmanical religion, though the ordeal by fire as a test of guilt is, or was, in use all over india. the fact is that the races of southern india, where the aryan element is very small, have kept all their savage customs and devil-worship under the form of brahmanism. 'another curious feat i saw performed at labuan deli, in sumatra, on the chinese new year. a chinaman of the coolie class was squatted stark naked on the roadside, holding on his knees a brass pan the size of a wash-hand basin, piled a foot high with red-hot charcoal. the heat reached one's face at two yards, but if it had been a tray of ices the man couldn't have been more unconcerned. there was a crowd of chinese round him, all eagerly asking questions, and a pile of coppers accumulating beside him. a chinese shopkeeper told me that the man "told fortunes," but from the circumstance of a gambling-house being close by, i concluded that his customers were getting tips on a system. 'hoping these notes may be of service to you, 'i remain, 'yours truly, 'stephen ponder.' * * * * * in this rite the fire-pit is thrice as long (at a rough estimate) as that of the fijians. the fire is of wooden embers, not heated stones. as in fiji, a man who falls is burned, clearly suggesting that the feet and legs, but not the whole body, are in some way prepared to resist the fire. as we shall find to be the practice in bulgaria, the celebrants place their feet afterwards in water. as in bulgaria, drums are beaten to stimulate the fire-walkers. neither here nor in fiji are the performers said to be entranced, like the bulgarian nistinares. { } on the whole, the kling rite (which the klings, i am informed, also practise in the islands whither they are carried as coolies) so closely resembles the fijian and the tongan that one would explain the likeness by transmission, were the ceremony not almost as like the rite of the hirpi. for the tongan fire-ritual, the source is the polynesian society's journal, vol. ii. no. . pp. - . my attention was drawn to this by mr. laing, writing from new zealand. the article is by miss tenira henry, of honolulu, a young lady of the island. the council of the society, not having seen the rite, 'do not guarantee the truth of the story, but willingly publish it for the sake of the incantation.' miss henry begins with a description of the ti-plant (dracaena terminalis), which 'requires to be well baked before being eaten.' she proceeds thus: 'the ti-ovens are frequently thirty feet in diameter, and the large stones, heaped upon small logs of wood, take about twenty-four hours to get properly heated. then they are flattened down, by means of long green poles, and the trunks of a few banana-trees are stripped up and strewn over them to cause steam. the ti-roots are then thrown in whole, accompanied by short pieces of ape-root (arum costatum), that are not quite so thick as the ti, but grow to the length of six feet and more. the oven is then covered over with large leaves and soil, and left so for about three days, when the ti and the ape are taken out well cooked, and of a rich, light-brown colour. the ape prevents the ti from getting too dry in the oven. 'there is a strange ceremony connected with the uum ti (or ti-oven), that used to be practised by the heathen priests at raiatea, but can now be performed by only two individuals (tupua and taero), both descendants of priests. this ceremony consisted in causing people to walk in procession through the hot oven when flattened down, before anything had been placed in it, and without any preparation whatever, bare-footed or shod, and on their emergence not even smelling of fire. the manner of doing this was told by tupua, who heads the procession in the picture, to monsieur morne, lieutenant de vaisseau, who also took the photograph { } of it, about two years ago, at uturoa, raiatea, which, being on bad paper, was copied off by mr. barnfield, of honolulu. all the white residents of the place, as well as the french officers, were present to see the ceremony, which is rarely performed nowadays. 'no one has yet been able to solve the mystery of this surprising feat, but it is to be hoped that scientists will endeavour to do so while those men who practise it still live. tupua's incantation used in walking over the uum-ti.--translation 'hold the leaves of the ti-plant before picking them, and say: "o hosts of gods! awake, arise! you and i are going to the ti-oven to-morrow." 'if they float in the air, they are gods, but if their feet touch the ground they are human beings. then break the ti-leaves off and look towards the direction of the oven, and say: "o hosts of gods! go to-night, and to-morrow you and i shall go." then wrap the ti-leaves up in han (hibiscus) leaves, and put them to sleep in the marae, where they must remain until morning, and say in leaving: '"arise! awake! o hosts of gods! let your feet take you to the ti-oven; fresh water and salt water come also. let the dark earth-worm and the light earth-worm go to the oven. let the redness and the shades of fire all go. you will go; you will go to-night, and to-morrow it will be you and i; we shall go to the uum-ti." (this is for the night.) 'when the ti-leaves are brought away, they must be tied up in a wand and carried straight to the oven, and opened when all are ready to pass through; then hold the wand forward and say: '"o men (spirits) who heated the oven! let it die out! o dark earth-worms! o light earthworms! fresh water and salt water, heat of the oven and redness of the oven, hold up the footsteps of the walkers, and fan the heat of the bed. o cold beings, let us lie in the midst of the oven! o great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies! hold the fan, and let us go into the oven for a little while!" then, when all are ready to walk in, we say: "holder of the first footstep! holder of the second footstep! holder of the third footstep! holder of the fourth footstep! holder of the fifth footstep! holder of the sixth footstep! holder of the seventh footstep! holder of the eighth footstep! holder of the ninth footstep! holder of the tenth footstep! "o great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies! all is covered!" 'then everybody walks through without hurt, into the middle and around the oven, following the leader, with the wand beating from side to side. 'the great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies was a high-born woman in olden times, who made herself respected by the oppressive men when they placed women under so many restrictions. she is said to have had the lightning at her command, and struck men with it when they encroached on her rights. 'all the above is expressed in old tahitian, and when quickly spoken is not easily understood by the modern listener. many of the words, though found in the dictionary, are now obsolete, and the arrangement of others is changed. oe and tana are never used now in place of the plural outou and tatou; but in old folk-lore it is the classical style of addressing the gods in the collective sense. tahutahu means sorcery, and also to kindle a fire.' * * * * * so far miss henry, on this occasion, and the archaic nature of the hymn, with the reference to a mythical leader of the revolt of women, deserves the attention of anthropologists, apart from the singular character of the rite described. in the third number of the journal (vol. ii.) the following editorial note is published: 'miss tenira henry authorises us to say that her sister and her sister's little child were some of those who joined in the uum-ti ceremony referred to in vol. ii. p. , and in the preceding note, and actually walked over the red-hot stones. the illustration of the performance given in the last number of the journal, it appears, is actually from a photograph taken by lieutenant morne, the original of which miss henry has sent us for inspection.--editor.' corroborative evidence the following corroborative account is given in the journal, from a source vaguely described as 'a pamphlet published in san francisco, by mr. hastwell:' 'the natives of raiatea have some performances so entirely out of the ordinary course of events as to institute (sic) inquiry relative to a proper solution. 'on september , , i witnessed the wonderful, and to me inexplicable, performance of passing through the "fiery furnace." 'the furnace that i saw was an excavation of three or four feet in the ground, in a circular form (sloping upwards), and about thirty feet across. the excavation was filled with logs and wood, and then covered with large stones. a fire was built underneath, and kept burning for a day. when i witnessed it, on the second day, the flames were pouring up through the interstices of the rocks, which were heated to a red and white heat. when everything was in readiness, and the furnace still pouring out its intense heat, the natives marched up with bare feet to the edge of the furnace, where they halted for a moment, and after a few passes of the wand made of the branches of the ti-plant by the leader, who repeated a few words in the native language, they stepped down on the rocks and walked leisurely across to the other side, stepping from stone to stone. this was repeated five times, without any preparation whatever on their feet, and without injury or discomfort from the heated stones. there was not even the smell of fire on their garments.' * * * * * mr. n. j. tone, in the same periodical (ii. , ), says that he arrived just too late to see the same rite at bukit mestajam, in province wellesley, straits settlements; he did see the pit and the fire, and examined the naked feet, quite uninjured, of the performers. he publishes an extract to this effect from his diary. the performers, i believe, were klings. nothing is said to indicate any condition of trance, or other abnormal state, in the fire-walkers. the fire-walk in trinidad. mr. henry e. st. clair, writing on september . , says: 'in trinidad, british west indies, the rite is performed annually about this time of the year among the indian coolie immigrants resident in the small village of peru, a mile or so from port of spain. i have personally witnessed the passing, and the description given by mr. ponder tallies with what i saw, except that, so far as i can remember, the number of those who took part in the rite was greater than six. in addition, there is this circumstance, which was not mentioned by that gentleman: each of the "passers" carried one or two lemons, which they dropped into the fire as they went along. these lemons were afterwards eagerly scrambled for by the bystanders, who, so far as i can recollect, attributed a healing influence to them.' bulgarian fire-walk as to the bulgarian rite, dr. schischmanof writes to me: 'i am sure the observance will surprise you; i am even afraid that you will think it rather fantastic, but you may rely on my information. the danse de feu was described long ago in a bulgarian periodical by one of our best known writers. what you are about to read only confirms his account. what i send you is from the recueil de folk lore, de litterature et de science (vol. vi. p. ), edited, with my aid and that of my colleague, mastov, by the minister of public instruction. how will you explain these hauts faits de l'extase religieuse? i cannot imagine! for my part, i think of the self-mutilations and tortures of dervishes and fakirs, and wonder if we have not here something analogous.' the article in the bulgarian serial is called 'the nistinares.' the word is not bulgarian; possibly it is romaic. the scene is in certain villages in turkey, on the bulgarian frontier, and not far from the town of bourgas, on the euxine, in the department of lozen grad. the ministrants (nistinares) have the gift of fire-walking as a hereditary talent; they are specially _just_, and the gift is attributed as to a god in fiji, in bulgaria to st. constantine and st. helena. 'these _just ones_ feel a desire to dance in the flames during the month of may; they are filled at the same time with some unknown force, which enables them to predict the future. the best nistinare is he who can dance longest in the live flame, and utter the most truthful prophecies.' the nistinares may be of either sex. on may the nistinares hold a kind of religious festival at the house of one of their number. salutations are exchanged, and presents of food and raki are made to the chief nistinare. the holy icones of saints are wreathed with flowers, and perfumed with incense. arrangements are made for purifying the holy wells and springs. on may , the day of st. helena and st. constantine, the parish priest says mass in the grey of dawn. at sunrise all the village meets in festal array; the youngest nistinare brings from the church the icones of the two saints, and drums are carried behind them in procession. they reach the sacred well in the wood, which the priest blesses. this is parallel to the priestly benediction on 'fountain sunday' of the well beneath the fairy tree at domremy, where jeanne d'arc was accused of meeting the good ladies. { } everyone drinks of the water, and there is a sacrifice of rams, ewes, and oxen. a festival follows, as was the use of domremy in the days of the maid; then all return to the village. the holy drum, which hangs all the year before st. helena in the church, is played upon. a mock combat between the icones which have visited the various holy wells is held. meanwhile, in each village, pyres of dry wood, amounting to thirty, fifty, or even a hundred cartloads, have been piled up. the wood is set on fire before the procession goes forth to the hallowing of the fountains. on returning, the crowd dances a horo (round dance) about the glowing logs. heaps of embers (pineus acervus) are made, and water is thrown on the ground. the musicians play the tune called 'l'air nistinar.' a nistinare breaks through the dance, _turns blue_, trembles like a leaf, and glares wildly with his eyes. the dance ends, and everybody goes to the best point of view. then the wildest nistinare seizes the icon, turns it to the crowd, and with naked feet climbs the pyre of glowing embers. the music plays, and the nistinare dances to the tune in the fire. if he is so disposed he utters prophecies. he dances till his face resumes its ordinary expression; then he begins to feel the burning; he leaves the pyre, and places his feet in the mud made by the libations of water already described. the second nistinare then dances in the fire, and so on. the predictions apply to villages and persons; sometimes sinners are denounced, or repairs of the church are demanded in this queer parish council. all through the month of may the nistinares call out for fire when they hear the nistinare music playing. they are very temperate men and women. except in may they do not clamour for fire, and cannot dance in it. in this remarkable case the alleged gift is hereditary, is of saintly origin, and is only exercised when the nistinare is excited, and (apparently) entranced by music and the dance, as is the manner also of medicine-men among savages. the rite, with its sacrifices of sheep and oxen, is manifestly of heathen origin. they 'pass through the fire' to st. constantine, but the observance must be far older than bulgarian christianity. the report says nothing as to the state of the feet of the nistinares after the fire-dance. medical inspection is desirable, and the photographic camera should be used to catch a picture of the wild scene. my account is abridged from the french version of the bulgarian report sent by dr. schischmanof. indian fire-walk since these lines were written the kindness of mr. tawney, librarian at the india office, has added to my stock of examples. thus, mr. stokes printed in the indian antiquary (ii. p. ) notes of evidence taken at an inquest on a boy of fourteen, who fell during the fire-walk, was burned, and died on that day. the rite had been forbidden, but was secretly practised in the village of periyangridi. the fire-pit was feet long by . feet broad and a span in depth. thirteen persons walked through the hot wood embers, which, in mr. stokes's opinion (who did not see the performance), 'would hardly injure the tough skin of the sole of a labourer's foot,' yet killed a boy. the treading was usually done by men under vows, perhaps vows made during illness. one, at least, walked 'because it is my duty as pujari.' another says, 'i got down into the fire at the east end, meditating on draupati, walked through to the west, and up the bank.' draupati is a goddess, wife of the pandavas. mr. stokes reports that, according to the incredulous, experienced fire-walkers smear their feet with oil of the green frog. no report is made as to the condition of their feet when they emerge from the fire. another case occurs in oppert's work, the original inhabitants of india (p. ). as usual, a pit is dug, filled with faggots. when these have burned down 'a little,' and 'while the heat is still unbearable in the neighbourhood of the ditch, those persons who have made the vow . . . walk . . . on the embers in the pit, without doing themselves as a rule much harm.' again, in a case where butter is poured over the embers to make a blaze, 'one of the tribal priests, in a state of religious afflatus, walks through the fire. it is said that the sacred fire is harmless, but some admit that a certain preservative ointment is used by the performers.' a chant used at mirzapur (as in fiji) is cited. { } in these examples the statements are rather vague. no evidence is adduced as to the actual effect of the fire on the feet of the ministrants. we hear casually of ointments which protect the feet, and of the thickness of the skins of the fire-walkers, and of the unapproachable heat, but we have nothing exact, no trace of scientific precision. the government 'puts down,' but does not really investigate the rite. psychical parallels i now very briefly, and 'under all reserves,' allude to the only modern parallel in our country with which i am acquainted. we have seen that iamblichus includes insensibility to fire among the privileges of graeco- egyptian 'mediums.' { } the same gift was claimed by daniel dunglas home, the notorious american spiritualist. i am well aware that as eusapia paladino was detected in giving a false impression that her hands were held by her neighbours in the dark, therefore, when mr. crookes asserts that he saw home handle fire in the light, his testimony on this point can have no weight with a logical public. consequently it is not as evidence to the _fact_ that i cite mr. crookes, but for another purpose. mr. crookes's remarks i heard, and i can produce plenty of living witnesses to the same experiences with d. d. home: 'i several times saw the fire test, both at my own and at other houses. on one occasion he called me to him when he went to the fire, and told me to watch carefully. he certainly put his hand in the grate and handled the red-hot coals in a manner which would have been impossible for me to have imitated without being severely burnt. i once saw him go to a bright wood fire, and, taking a large piece of red-hot charcoal, put it in the hollow of one hand, and, covering it with the other, blow into the extempore furnace till the coal was white hot, and the flames licked round his fingers. no sign of burning could be seen then or afterwards on his hands.' on these occasions home was, or was understood to be, 'entranced,' like the bulgarian nistinares. among other phenomena, the white handkerchief on which home laid a red-hot coal was not scorched, nor, on analysis, did it show any signs of chemical preparation. home could also (like the fijians) communicate his alleged immunity to others present; for example, to mr. s. c. hall. but it burned and marked a man i know. home, entranced, and handling a red-hot coal, passed it to a gentleman of my acquaintance, whose hand still bears the scar of the scorching endured in . immunity was not _always_ secured by experimenters. i only mention these circumstances because mr. crookes has stated that he knows no chemical preparation which would avert the ordinary action of heat. mr. clodd (on the authority of sir b. w. richardson) has suggested diluted sulphuric acid (so familiar to klings, hirpi, tongans, and fijians). but mr. clodd produced no examples of successful or unsuccessful experiment. { } the nescience of mr. crookes may be taken to cover these valuable properties of diluted sulphuric acid, unless mr. clodd succeeds in an experiment which, if made on his own person, i would very willingly witness. merely for completeness, i mention dr. dozous's statement, { } that he timed by his watch bernadette, the seer of lourdes, while, for fifteen minutes, she, in an ecstatic condition, held her hands in the flame of a candle. he then examined her hands, which were not scorched or in any way affected by the fire. this is called, at lourdes, the miracle du cierge. here ends my list of examples, in modern and ancient times, of a rite which deserves, though it probably will not receive, the attention of science. the widely diffused religious character of the performance will, perhaps, be admitted as demonstrated. as to the method by which the results are attained, whether by a chemical preparation, or by the influence of a certain mental condition, or by thickness of skin, or whether all the witnesses fable with a singular unanimity (shared by photographic cameras), i am unable even to guess. on may , in bulgaria, a scientific observer might come to a conclusion. at present i think it possible that the jewish 'passing through the fire' may have been a harmless rite. conclusion as to fire-walk in all these cases, and others as to which i have first-hand evidence, there are decided parallels to the rite of the hirpi, and to biblical and ecclesiastical miracles. the savage examples are _rites_, and appear intended to secure good results in food supplies (fiji), or general well- being, perhaps by expiation for sins, as in the attic thargelia. the bulgarian rite also aims at propitiating general good luck. psychical research but how is the fire-walk done? that remains a mystery, and perhaps no philologist, folk-lorist, anthropologist, or physiologist, has seriously asked the question. the medicamentum of varro, the green frog fat of india, the diluted sulphuric acid of mr. clodd, are guesses in the air, and mr. clodd has made no experiment. the possibility of plunging the hand, unhurt, in molten metal, is easily accounted for, and is not to the point. in this difficulty psychical research registers, and no more, the well-attested performances of d. d. home (entranced, like the nistinares); the well observed and timed miracle du cierge at lourdes--bernadette being in an ecstatic condition; the biblical story of shadrach, meshach, and abednego in the fiery furnace; the researches of iamblichus; the case of madame shchapoff, carefully reported, { } and other examples. there is no harm in collecting examples, and the question remains, are all those rites, from those of virgil's hirpi to bulgaria of to-day, based on some actual but obscure and scientifically neglected fact in nature? at all events, for the soranus-feronia rite philology only supplies her competing etymologies, folk-lore her modern rural parallels, anthropology her savage examples, psychical research her 'cases' at first-hand. anthropology had neglected the collection of these, perhaps because the fire-walk is 'impossible.' the origin of death yama this excursus on 'the fire-walk' has been introduced, as an occasion arose, less because of controversy about a neglected theme than for the purpose of giving something positive in a controversial treatise. for the same reason i take advantage of mr. max muller's remarks on yama, 'the first who died,' to offer a set of notes on myths of the origin of death. yama, in our author's opinion, is 'the setting sun' (i. ; ii. ). agni (fire) is 'the first who was born;' as the other twin, yama, he was also the first who died (ii. ). as 'the setting sun he was the first instance of death.' kuhn and others, judging from a passage in the atharva veda (xviii. , ), have, however, inferred that yama 'was really a human being and the first of mortals.' he is described in the atharva as 'the gatherer of men, who died the first of mortals, who went forward the first to that world.' in the atharva we read of 'reverence to yama, to death, who first approached the precipice, finding out the path for many.' 'the myth of yama is perfectly intelligible, if we trace its roots back to the sun of evening' (ii. ). mr. max muller then proposes on this head 'to consult the traditions of real naturvolker' (savages). the harvey islanders speak of dying as 'following the sun's track.' the maoris talk of 'going down with the sun' (ii. ). no more is said here about savage myths of 'the first who died.' i therefore offer some additions to the two instances in which savages use a poetical phrase connecting the sun's decline with man's death. the origin of death civilised man in a scientific age would never invent a myth to account for 'god's great ordinance of death.' he regards it as a fact, obvious and necessarily universal; but his own children have not attained to his belief in death. the certainty and universality of death do not enter into the thoughts of our little ones. for in the thought of immortality do children play about the flowery meads. now, there are still many childlike tribes of men who practically disbelieve in death. to them death is always a surprise and an accident--an unnecessary, irrelevant intrusion on the living world. 'natural deaths are by many tribes regarded as supernatural,' says dr. tylor. these tribes have no conception of death as the inevitable, eventual obstruction and cessation of the powers of the bodily machine; the stopping of the pulses and processes of life by violence or decay or disease. to persons who regard death thus, _his_ intrusion into the world (for death, of course, is thought to be a person) stands in great need of explanation. that explanation, as usual, is given in myths. death, regarded as unnatural but before studying these widely different myths, let us first establish the fact that death really is regarded as something non-natural and intrusive. the modern savage readily believes in and accounts in a scientific way for _violent_ deaths. the spear or club breaks or crushes a hole in a man, and his soul flies out. but the deaths he disbelieves in are _natural_ deaths. these he is obliged to explain as produced by some supernatural cause, generally the action of malevolent spirits impelled by witches. thus the savage holds that, violence apart and the action of witches apart, man would even now be immortal. 'there are rude races of australia and south america,' writes dr. tylor, { } 'whose intense belief in witchcraft has led them to declare that if men were never bewitched, and never killed by violence, _they would never die at all_. like the australians, the africans will inquire of their dead "what sorcerer slew them by his wicked arts."' 'the natives,' says sir george grey, speaking of the australians, 'do not believe that there is such a thing as death from natural causes.' on the death of an australian native from disease, a kind of magical coroner's inquest is held by the conjurers of the tribe, and the direction in which the wizard lives who slew the dead man is ascertained by the movements of worms and insects. the process is described at full length by mr. brough smyth in his aborigines of victoria (i. - ). turning from australia to hindustan, we find that the puwarrees (according to heber's narrative) attribute all natural deaths to a supernatural cause--namely, witchcraft. that is, the puwarrees do not yet believe in the universality and necessity of death. he is an intruder brought by magic arts into our living world. again, in his ethnology of bengal (pp. , ), dalton tells us that the hos (an aboriginal non-aryan race) are of the same opinion as the puwarrees. 'they hold that all disease in men or animals is attributable to one of two causes: the wrath of some evil spirit or the spell of some witch or sorcerer. these superstitions are common to all classes of the population of this province.' in the new hebrides disease and death are caused, as mr. codrington found, by tamates, or ghosts. { } in new caledonia, according to erskine, death is the result of witchcraft practised by members of a hostile tribe, for who would be so wicked as to bewitch his fellow-tribesman? the andaman islanders attribute all natural deaths to the supernatural influence of e rem chaugala, or to jurn-win, two spirits of the jungle and the sea. the death is avenged by the nearest relation of the deceased, who shoots arrows at the invisible enemy. the negroes of central africa entertain precisely similar ideas about the non-naturalness of death. mr. duff macdonald, in africana, writes: 'every man who dies what we call a natural death is really killed by witches.' it is a far cry from the blantyre mission in africa to the eskimo of the frozen north; but so uniform is human nature in the lower races that the eskimo precisely agree, as far as theories of death go, with the africans, the aborigines of india, the andaman islanders, the australians, and the rest. dr. rink { a} found that 'sickness or death coming about in an accidental manner was always attributed to witchcraft, and it remains a question whether death on the whole was not originally accounted for as resulting from magic.' pere paul le jeune, writing from quebec in , says of the red men: 'je n'en voy mourir quasi aucun, qui ne pense estre ensorcele.' { b} it is needless to show how these ideas survived into civilisation. bishop jewell, denouncing witches before queen elizabeth, was, so far, mentally on a level with the eskimo and the australian. the familiar and voluminous records of trials for witchcraft, whether at salem or at edinburgh, prove that all abnormal and unwonted deaths and diseases, in animals or in men, were explained by our ancestors as the results of supernatural mischief. it has been made plain (and the proof might be enlarged to any extent) that the savage does not regard death as 'god's great ordinance,' universal and inevitable and natural. but, being curious and inquisitive, he cannot help asking himself, 'how did this terrible invader first enter a world where he now appears so often?' this is, properly speaking, a scientific question; but the savage answers it, not by collecting facts and generalising from them, but by inventing a myth. that is his invariable habit. does he want to know why this tree has red berries, why that animal has brown stripes, why this bird utters its peculiar cry, where fire came from, why a constellation is grouped in one way or another, why his race of men differs from the whites--in all these, and in all other intellectual perplexities, the savage invents a story to solve the problem. stories about the origin of death are, therefore, among the commonest fruits of the savage imagination. as those legends have been produced to meet the same want by persons in a very similar mental condition, it inevitably follows that they all resemble each other with considerable closeness. we need not conclude that all the myths we are about to examine came from a single original source, or were handed about--with flint arrow-heads, seeds, shells, beads, and weapons--in the course of savage commerce. borrowing of this sort may--or, rather, must--explain many difficulties as to the diffusion of some myths. but the myths with which we are concerned now, the myths of the origin of death, might easily have been separately developed by simple and ignorant men seeking to discover an answer to the same problem. why men are mortal the myths of the origin of death fall into a few categories. in many legends of the lower races men are said to have become subject to mortality because they infringed some mystic prohibition or taboo of the sort which is common among untutored peoples. the apparently untrammelled polynesian, or australian, or african, is really the slave of countless traditions, which forbid him to eat this object or to touch that, or to speak to such and such a person, or to utter this or that word. races in this curious state of ceremonial subjection often account for death as the punishment imposed for breaking some taboo. in other cases, death is said to have been caused by a sin of omission, not of commission. people who have a complicated and minute ritual (like so many of the lower races) persuade themselves that death burst on the world when some passage of the ritual was first omitted, or when some custom was first infringed. yet again, death is fabled to have first claimed us for his victims in consequence of the erroneous delivery of a favourable message from some powerful supernatural being, or because of the failure of some enterprise which would have resulted in the overthrow of death, or by virtue of a pact or covenant between death and the gods. thus it will be seen that death is often (though by no means invariably) the penalty of infringing a command, or of indulging in a culpable curiosity. but there are cases, as we shall see, in which death, as a tolerably general law, follows on a mere accident. some one is accidentally killed, and this 'gives death a lead' (as they say in the hunting-field) over the fence which had hitherto severed him from the world of living men. it is to be observed in this connection that the first of men who died is usually regarded as the discoverer of a hitherto 'unknown country,' the land beyond the grave, to which all future men must follow him. bin dir woor, among the australians, was the first man who suffered death, and he (like yama in the vedic myth) became the columbus of the new world of the dead. savage death-myths let us now examine in detail a few of the savage stories of the origin of death. that told by the australians may be regarded with suspicion, as a refraction from a careless hearing of the narrative in genesis. the legend printed by mr. brough smyth { a} was told to mr. bulwer by 'a black fellow far from sharp,' and this black fellow may conceivably have distorted what his tribe had heard from a missionary. this sort of refraction is not uncommon, and we must always guard ourselves against being deceived by a savage corruption of a biblical narrative. here is the myth, such as it is:--'the first created man and woman were told' (by whom we do not learn) 'not to go near a certain tree in which a bat lived. the bat was not to be disturbed. one day, however, the woman was gathering firewood, and she went near the tree. the bat flew away, and after that came death.' more evidently genuine is the following legend of how death 'got a lead' into the australian world. 'the child of the first man was wounded. if his parents could heal him, death would never enter the world. they failed. death came.' the wound in this legend was inflicted by a supernatural being. here death acts on the principle ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute, and the premier pas was made easy for him. we may continue to examine the stories which account for death as the result of breaking a taboo. the ningphos of bengal say they were originally immortal. { b} they were forbidden to bathe in a certain pool of water. some one, greatly daring, bathed, and ever since ningphos have been subject to death. the infringement, not of a taboo, but of a custom, caused death in one of the many melanesian myths on this subject. men and women had been practically deathless because they cast their old skins at certain intervals; but a grandmother had a favourite grandchild who failed to recognise her when she appeared as a young woman in her new skin. with fatal good-nature the grandmother put on her old skin again, and instantly men lost the art of skin-shifting, and death finally seized them. { } the greek myth the greek myth of the origin of death is the most important of those which turn on the breaking of a prohibition. the story has unfortunately become greatly confused in the various poetical forms which have reached us. as far as can be ascertained, death was regarded in one early greek myth as the punishment of indulgence in forbidden curiosity. men appear to have been free from death before the quarrel between zeus and prometheus. in consequence of this quarrel hephaestus fashioned a woman out of earth and water, and gave her to epimetheus, the brother of the titan. prometheus had forbidden his brother to accept any gift from the gods, but the bride was welcomed nevertheless. she brought her tabooed coffer: this was opened; and men--who, according to hesiod, had hitherto lived exempt from 'maladies that bring down fate'--were overwhelmed with the 'diseases that stalk abroad by night and day.' now, in hesiod (works and days, - ) there is nothing said about unholy curiosity. pandora simply opened her casket and scattered its fatal contents. but philodemus assures us that, according to a variant of the myth, it was epimetheus who opened the forbidden coffer, whence came death. leaving the myths which turn on the breaking of a taboo, and reserving for consideration the new zealand story, in which the origin of death is the neglect of a ritual process, let us look at some african myths of the origin of death. it is to be observed that in these (as in all the myths of the most backward races) many of the characters are not gods, but animals. the bushman story lacks the beginning. the mother of the little hare was lying dead, but we do not know how she came to die. the moon then struck the little hare on the lip, cutting it open, and saying, 'cry loudly, for your mother will not return, as _i_ do, but is quite dead.' in another version the moon promises that the old hare shall return to life, but the little hare is sceptical, and is hit in the mouth as before. the hottentot myth makes the moon send the hare to men with the message that they will revive as he (the moon) does. but the hare 'loses his memory as he runs' (to quote the french proverb, which may be based on a form of this very tale), and the messenger brings the tidings that men shall surely die and never revive. the angry moon then burns a hole in the hare's mouth. in yet another hottentot version the hare's failure to deliver the message correctly caused the death of the moon's mother (bleek, bushman folklore). { } compare sir james alexander's expedition, ii. , where the namaquas tell this tale. the fijians say that the moon wished men to die and be born again, like herself. the rat said, 'no, let them die, like rats;' and they do. { } the serpent in this last variant we have death as the result of a failure or transgression. among the more backward natives of south india (lewin's wild races of south india) the serpent is concerned, in a suspicious way, with the origin of death. the following legend might so easily arise from a confused understanding of the mohammedan or biblical narrative that it is of little value for our purpose. at the same time, even if it is only an adaptation, it shows the characteristics of the adapting mind:--god had made the world, trees, and reptiles, and then set to work to make man out of clay. a serpent came and devoured the still inanimate clay images while god slept. the serpent still comes and bites us all, and the end is death. if god never slept, there would be no death. the snake carries us off while god is asleep. but the oddest part of this myth remains. not being able always to keep awake, god made a dog to drive away the snake by barking. and that is why dogs always howl when men are at the point of death. here we have our own rural superstition about howling dogs twisted into a south indian myth of the origin of death. the introduction of death by a pure accident recurs in a myth of central africa reported by mr. duff macdonald. there was a time when the man blessed by sancho panza had not yet 'invented sleep.' a woman it was who came and offered to instruct two men in the still novel art of sleeping. 'she held the nostrils of one, and he never awoke at all,' and since then the art of dying has been facile. dualistic myths a not unnatural theory of the origin of death is illustrated by a myth from pentecost island and a red indian myth. in the legends of very many races we find the attempt to account for the origin of death and evil by a simple dualistic myth. there were two brothers who made things; one made things well, the other made them ill. in pentecost island it was tagar who made things well, and he appointed that men should die for five days only, and live again. but the malevolent suque caused men 'to die right out.' { } the red indian legend of the same character is printed in the annual report of the bureau of ethnology ( - ), p. . the younger of the cin-au-av brothers, who were wolves, said, 'when a man dies, send him back in the morning and let all his friends rejoice.' 'not so,' said the elder; 'the dead shall return no more.' so the younger brother slew the child of the elder, and this was the beginning of death. economic myth there is another and a very quaint myth of the origin of death in banks island. at first, in banks island, as elsewhere, men were immortal. the economical results were just what might have been expected. property became concentrated in the hands of the few--that is, of the first generations--while all the younger people were practically paupers. to heal the disastrous social malady, qat (the maker of things, who was more or less a spider) sent for mate--that is, death. death lived near a volcanic crater of a mountain, where there is now a by-way into hades--or panoi, as the melanesians call it. death came, and went through the empty forms of a funeral feast for himself. tangaro the fool was sent to watch mate, and to see by what way he returned to hades, that men might avoid that path in future. now when mate fled to his own place, this great fool tangaro noticed the path, but forgot which it was, and pointed it out to men under the impression that it was the road to the _upper_, not to the _under_, world. ever since that day men have been constrained to follow mate's path to panoi and the dead. { } another myth is somewhat different, but, like this one, attributes death to the imbecility of tangaro the fool. maui and yama the new zealand myth of the origin of death is pretty well known, as dr. tylor has seen in it the remnants of a solar myth, and has given it a 'solar' explanation. it is an audacious thing to differ from so cautious and learned an anthropologist as dr. tylor, but i venture to give my reasons for dissenting in this case from the view of the author of primitive culture (i. ). maui is the great hero of maori mythology. he was not precisely a god, still less was he one of the early elemental gods, yet we can scarcely regard him as a man. he rather answers to one of the race of titans, and especially to prometheus, the son of a titan. maui was prematurely born, and his mother thought the child would be no credit to her already numerous and promising family. she therefore (as native women too often did in the south-sea islands) tied him up in her long tresses and tossed him out to sea. the gales brought him back to shore: one of his grandparents carried him home, and he became much the most illustrious and successful of his household. so far maui had the luck which so commonly attends the youngest and least-considered child in folklore and mythology. this feature in his myth may be a result of the very widespread custom of jungsten recht (borough english), by which the youngest child is heir at least of the family hearth. now, unluckily, at the baptism of maui (for a pagan form of baptism is a maori ceremony) his father omitted some of the karakias, or ritual utterances proper to be used on such occasions. this was the fatal original mistake whence came man's liability to death, for hitherto men had been immortal. so far, what is there 'solar' about maui? who are the sun's brethren?--and maui had many. how could the sun catch the sun in a snare, and beat him so as to make him lame? this was one of maui's feats, for he meant to prevent the sun from running too fast through the sky. maui brought fire, indeed, from the under-world, as prometheus stole it from the upper-world; but many men and many beasts do as much as the myths of the world, and it is hard to see how the exploit gives maui 'a solar character.' maui invented barbs for hooks, and other appurtenances of early civilisation, with which the sun has no more to do than with patent safety-matches. his last feat was to attempt to secure human immortality for ever. there are various legends on this subject. maui myths some say maui noticed that the sun and moon rose again from their daily death, by virtue of a fountain in hades (hine-nui-te-po) where they bathed. others say he wished to kill hine-nui-te-po (conceived of as a woman) and to carry off her heart. whatever the reason, maui was to be swallowed up in the giant frame of hades, or night, and, if he escaped alive, death would never have power over men. he made the desperate adventure, and would have succeeded but for the folly of one of the birds which accompanied him. this little bird, which sings at sunset, burst out laughing inopportunely, wakened hine-nui-te-po, and she crushed to death maui and all hopes of earthly immortality. had he only come forth alive, men would have been deathless. now, except that the bird which laughed sings at sunset, what is there 'solar' in all this? _the sun does daily what maui failed to do_, { a} passes through darkness and death back into light and life. not only does the sun daily succeed where maui failed, but it was his observation of this fact which encouraged maui to risk the adventure. if maui were the sun, we should all be immortal, for maui's ordeal is daily achieved by the sun. but dr. tylor says: { b} 'it is seldom that solar characteristics are more distinctly marked in the several details of a myth than they are here.' to us the characteristics seem to be precisely the reverse of solar. throughout the cycle of maui he is constantly set in direct opposition to the sun, and the very point of the final legend is that what the sun could do maui could not. literally the one common point between maui and the sun is that the little bird, the tiwakawaka, which sings at the daily death of day, sang at the eternal death of maui. without pausing to consider the tongan myth of the origin of death, we may go on to investigate the legends of the aryan races. according to the satapatha brahmana, death was made, like the gods and other creatures, by a being named prajapati. now of prajapati, half was mortal, half was immortal. with his mortal half he feared death, and concealed himself from death in earth and water. death said to the gods, 'what hath become of him who created us?' they answered, 'fearing thee, hath he entered the earth.' the gods and prajapati now freed themselves from the dominion of death by celebrating an enormous number of sacrifices. death was chagrined by their escape from the 'nets and clubs' which he carries in the aitareya brahmana. 'as you have escaped me, so will men also escape,' he grumbled. the gods appeased him by the promise that, _in the body_, no man henceforth for ever should evade death. 'every one who is to become immortal shall do so by first parting with his body.' yama among the aryans of india, as we have already seen, death has a protomartyr, tama, 'the first of men who reached the river, spying out a path for many.' in spying the path yama corresponds to tangaro the fool, in the myth of the solomon islands. but yama is not regarded as a maleficent being, like tangaro. the rig veda (x. ) speaks of him as 'king yama, who departed to the mighty streams and sought out a road for many;' and again, the atharva veda names him 'the first of men who died, and the first who departed to the celestial world.' with him the blessed fathers dwell for ever in happiness. mr. max muller, as we said, takes yama to be 'a character suggested by the setting sun'--a claim which is also put forward, as we have seen, for the maori hero maui. it is yama, according to the rig veda, who sends the birds--a pigeon is one of his messengers (compare the white bird of the oxenhams)--as warnings of approaching death. among the iranian race, yima appears to have been the counterpart of the vedic yama. he is now king of the blessed; originally he was the first of men over whom death won his earliest victory. inferences that yama is mixed up with the sun, in the rig veda, seems certain enough. most phenomena, most gods, shade into each other in the vedic hymns. but it is plain that the conception of a 'first man who died' is as common to many races as it is natural. death was regarded as unnatural, yet here it is among us. how did it come? by somebody dying first, and establishing a bad precedent. but need that somebody have been originally the sun, as mr. max muller and dr. tylor think in the cases of yama and maui? this is a point on which we may remain in doubt, for death in itself was certain to challenge inquiry among savage philosophers, and to be explained by a human rather than by a solar myth. human, too, rather than a result of 'disease of language' is, probably, the myth of the fire-stealer. the stealing of fire the world-wide myth explaining how man first became possessed of fire--namely, by _stealing_ it--might well serve as a touchstone of the philological and anthropological methods. to mr. max muller the interest of the story will certainly consist in discovering connections between greek and sanskrit names of fire-gods and of fire bringing heroes. he will not compare the fire-myths of other races all over the world, nor will he even try to explain why--in almost all of these myths we find a thief of fire, a fire-stealer. this does not seem satisfactory to the anthropologist, whose first curiosity is to know why fire is everywhere said to have been obtained for men by sly theft or 'flat burglary.' of course it is obvious that a myth found in australia and america cannot possibly be the result of disease of aryan languages not spoken in those two continents. the myth of fire-stealing must necessarily have some other origin. 'fire totems' mr. max muller, after a treatise on agni and other fire-gods, consecrates two pages to 'fire totems.' 'if we are assured that there are some dark points left, and that these might be illustrated and rendered more intelligible by what are called fire totems among the red indians of north america, let us have as much light as we can get' (ii. ). alas! i never heard of fire totems before. probably some one has been writing about them, somewhere, unless we owe them to mr. max muller's own researches. of course, he cites no authority for his fire totems. 'the fire totem, we are told, would thus naturally have become the god of the indians.' 'we are told'--where, and by whom? not a hint is given on the subject, so we must leave the doctrine of fire totems to its mysterious discoverer. 'if others prefer to call prometheus a fire totem, no one would object, if only it would help us to a better understanding of prometheus' (ii. ). who are the 'others' who speak of a greek 'culture-hero' by the impossibly fantastic name of 'a fire totem'? prometheus mr. max muller 'follows kuhn' in his explanation of prometheus, the fire- stealer, but he does not follow him all the way. kuhn tried to account for the myth that prometheus _stole_ fire, and mr. max muller does not try. { } kuhn connects prometheus with the sanskrit pramantha, the stick used in producing fire by drilling a pointed into a flat piece of wood. the greeks, of course, made prometheus mean 'foresighted,' providens; but let it be granted that the germans know better. pramantha next is associated with the verb mathnami, 'to rub _or_ grind;' and that, again, with greek [greek], 'to learn.' we too talk of a student as a 'grinder,' by a coincidence. the root manth likewise means 'to rob;' and we can see in english how a fire-stick, a 'fire-rubber,' might become a 'fire-robber,' a stealer of fire. a somewhat similar confusion in old aryan languages converted the fire-stick into a person, the thief of fire, prometheus; while a greek misunderstanding gave to prometheus (pramantha, 'fire-stick') the meaning of 'foresighted,' with the word for prudent foresight, [greek]. this, roughly stated, is the view of kuhn. { a} mr. max muller concludes that prometheus, the producer of fire, is also the fire-god, a representative of agni, and necessarily 'of the inevitable dawn'--'of agni as the deus matutinus, a frequent character of the vedic agni, the agni aushasa, or the daybreak' (ii. ). but mr. max muller does not say one word about prometheus as the fire- stealer. now, that he _stole_ fire is of the essence of his myth; and this myth of the original procuring of fire by theft occurs all over the world. as australian and american savages cannot conceivably have derived the myth of fire-stealing from the root manth and its double sense of stealing and rubbing, there must be some other explanation. but this fact could not occur to comparative mythologists who did not compare, probably did not even know, similar myths wherever found. savage myths of fire-stealing in la mythologie (pp. - ) i have put together a small collection of savage myths of the theft of fire. { b} our text is the line of hesiod (theogony, ), 'prometheus _stole_ the far-seen ray of unwearied fire in a hollow stalk of fennel.' the same stalk is still used in the greek isles for carrying fire, as it was of old--whence no doubt this feature of the myth. { c} how did prometheus steal fire? some say from the altar of zeus, others that he lit his rod at the sun. { a} the australians have the same fable; fire was obtained by a black fellow who climbed by a rope to the sun. again, in australia fire was the possession of two women alone. a man induced them to turn their backs, and stole fire. a very curious version of the myth occurs in an excellent book by mrs. langloh parker. { b} there was no fire when rootoolgar, the crane, married gooner, the kangaroo rat. rootoolgar, idly rubbing two sticks together, discovered the art of fire-making. 'this we will keep secret,' they said, 'from all the tribes.' a fire- stick they carried about in their comebee. the tribes of the bush discovered the secret, and the fire-stick was stolen by reeargar, the hawk. we shall be told, of course, that the hawk is the lightning, or the dawn. but in this savage jungle book all the characters are animals, and reeargar is no more the dawn than is the kangaroo rat. in savage myths animals, not men, play the leading roles, and the fire-stealing bird or beast is found among many widely scattered races. in normandy the wren is the fire-bringer. { c} a bird brings fire in the andaman isles. { d} among the ahts a fish owned fire; other beasts stole it. the raven hero of the thlinkeets, yehl, stole fire. among the cahrocs two old women possessed it, and it was stolen by the coyote. are these theftuous birds and beasts to be explained as fire-gods? probably not. will any philologist aver that in cahroc, thlinkeet. australian, andaman, and so forth, the word for 'rub' resembled the word for 'rob,' and so produced by 'a disease of language' the myth of the fire-stealer? origin of the myth of fire-stealing the myth arose from the nature of savage ideas, not from unconscious puns. even in a race so civilised as the homeric greeks, to make fire was no easy task. homer speaks of a man, in a lonely upland hut, who carefully keeps the embers alive, that he may not have to go far afield in search of the seed of fire. { } obviously he had no ready means of striking a light. suppose, then, that an early savage loses his seed of fire. his nearest neighbours, far enough off, may be hostile. if he wants fire, as they will not give it, he must _steal_ it, just as he must steal a wife. people in this condition would readily believe, like the australian blacks, that the original discoverers or possessors of a secret so valuable as fire would not give it away, that others who wanted it would be obliged to get it by theft. in greece, in a civilised race, this very natural old idea survives, though fire is not the possession of a crane, or of an old woman, but of the gods, and is stolen, not by a hawk or a coyote, but by prometheus, the culture-hero and demiurge. whether his name 'foresighted' is a mistaken folk-etymology from the root manth, or not, we have, in the ancient inevitable idea, that the original patentees of fire would not willingly part with their treasure, the obvious origin of the myth of the fire-stealer. and this theory does not leave the analogous savage myths of fire-stealing unexplained and out in the cold, as does the philological hypothesis. { } in this last instance, as in others, the origin of a world-wide myth is found, not in a 'disease of language,' but in a form of thought still natural. if a foreign power wants what answers among us to the exclusive possession of fire, or wants the secret of its rival's new explosive, it has to _steal_ it. conclusion here ends this 'gentle and joyous passage of arms.' i showed, first, why anthropological students of mythology, finding the philological school occupying the ground, were obliged in england to challenge mr. max muller. i then discoursed of some inconveniences attending his method in controversy. next, i gave a practical example, the affair of tuna and daphne. this led to a comparison of the philological and the anthropological ways of treating the daphne myth. the question of our allies then coming up, i stated my reasons for regarding prof. tiele 'rather as an ally than an adversary,' the reason being his own statement. presently, i replied to prof. tiele's criticism of my treatment of the myth of cronos. after a skirmish on italian fields, i gave my reasons for disagreeing with mr. max muller's view of mannhardt's position. his theory of demeter erinnys was contrasted with that of mr. max muller. totemism occupied us next, and the views of mr. max muller and mr. j. g. frazer were criticised. then i defended anthropological and criticised philological evidence. our method of universal comparison was next justified in the matter of fetishism. the riddle theory of mr. max muller was presently discussed. then followed a review of our contending methods in the explanation of artemis, of the fire-walk, of death myths, and of the fire-stealer. thus a number of points in mythological interpretation have been tested on typical examples. much more might be said on a book of nearly pages. many points might be taken, much praise (were mine worth anything) might be given; but i have had but one object, to defend the method of anthropology from a running or dropping fire of criticism which breaks out in many points all along the line, through contributions to the science of mythology. if my answer be desultory and wandering, remember the sporadic sharpshooting of the adversary! for adversary we must consider mr. max muller, so long as we use different theories to different results. if i am right, if he is wrong, in our attempts to untie this old gordian knot, he loses little indeed. that fame of his, the most steady and brilliant light of all which crown the brows of contemporary scholars, is the well-earned reward, not of mythological lore nor of cunning fence in controversy, but of wide learning and exquisitely luminous style. i trust that i have imputed no unfairness, made no charge of conscious misrepresentation (to accidents of exposition we are all liable), have struck no foul blow, hazarded no discourteous phrase. if i have done so, i am thereby, even more than in my smattering of unscholarly learning, an opponent more absolutely unworthy of the right hon. professor than i would fain believe myself. appendix a: the fire-walk in spain one study occasionally illustrates another. in examining the history of the earl marischal, who was exiled after the rising of , i found, in a letter of a correspondent of d'alembert, that the earl met a form of the fire-walk in spain. there then existed in the peninsula a hereditary class of men who, by dint of 'charms' permitted by the inquisition, could enter fire unharmed. the earl marischal said that he would believe in their powers if he were allowed first to light the fire, and then to look on. but the fire-walkers would not gratify him, as not knowing what kind of fire a heretic might kindle. appendix b: mr. macdonell on vedic mythology too late for use here came vedic mythology, from grundriss der indo-arischen philologie, { } by mr. a. macdonell, the representative of the historic house of lochgarry. this even a non-scholar can perceive to be a most careful and learned work. as to philological 'equations' between names of greek and vedic gods, mr. macdonell writes: 'dyaus=[greek] is the only one which can be said to be beyond the range of doubt.' as to the connection of prometheus with sanskrit pramantha, he says: '[greek] has every appearance of being a purely greek formation, while the indian verb math, to twirl, is found compounded only with nis, never with pra, to express the art of producing fire by friction.' (see above, p. .) if mr. macdonell is right here, the greek myth of the fire-stealer cannot have arisen from 'a disease of language.' but scholars must be left to reconcile this last typical example of their ceaseless differences in the matter of etymology of names. footnotes { a} chips, iv. . { b} chips, iv. p. xxxv. { c} chips, iv. pp. vi. vii. { d} ibid. iv. p. xv. { e} cults of the greek states, ii. - . { f} chips, iv. p. xiv. { g} chips, iv. p. xiii. { } suidas, s.v. [greek]; he cites dionysius of chalcis, b.c. . { a} see goguet, and millar of glasgow, and voltaire. { b} translated by m. parmentier. { } see 'totemism,' infra. { } longmans. { a} m. r. r. i. - . { b} tylor's prim. cult. i. . { c} turner's samoa, p. . { d} gill's myths and songs, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { } metam. i. . { a} grimm, cited by liebrecht in zur volkskunde, p. . { b} primitive culture, i. . { c} op. cit. i. - . { } m. r. r. i. . { } erratum: this is erroneous. see contributions, &c., vol. i. p. , where mr. max muller writes, 'tuna means eel.' this shows why tuna, i.e. eel, is the hero. his connection, as an admirer, with the moon, perhaps remains obscure. { } phonetically there may be 'no possible objection to the derivation of [greek] from a sanskrit form, *apa-var-yan, or *apa-val-yan' (ii. ); but, historically, greek is not derived from sanskrit surely! { a} mythologische forschungen, p. . { b} baumkultus, p. . berlin: . { a} antike wald- und feldkulte, p. . referring to baumkultus, p. . { b} oriental and linguistic studies, second series, p. . la religion vedique, iii. . { } , viii. cf. i. . { } riv. crit. mensile. geneva, iii. xiv. p. . { a} custom and myth, p. , citing revue de l'hist. des religions, ii. . { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} revue de l'hist. des religions, xii. . { } op. cit. p. . { } op. cit. xii. . { a} p. , infra. { b} revue de l'hist. des religions, xii. . { a} m. r. r. i. . { b} rev. xii. . { } m. r. r. i. . { a} rev. xii. . { b} rev. xii. . { c} m. r. r. i. , . { a} custom and myth, p. . { b} rev. xii. . { } odyssey, book ix. { } c. and m. p. . { a} w. u. f. k. xxiii. { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} w. u. f. k. xvii. { } golden bough, . ix. { } [greek]. dionys. i. . { a} pausanias, viii. . { b} myth. forsch. p. . { c} iliad, xx. . { } myth. forsch, p. { } september , . myth. forsch. xiv. { } for undeniable solar myths see m. r. r. i. - . { } op. cit. p. xx. { } folk lore society. { a} von einem der vorzuglichsten schiriftgelehrten, annana, in klassischer darstellung aufgezeichneten marchens, p. . { b} custom and myth. { a} see preface to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's marchen. { b} p. . { } x. . cf. muir, sanskrit texts, v. . { } as the sun's wife is dawn, and leaves him at dawn, she is not much of a bedfellow. as _night_, however, she _is_ a bedfellow of the nocturnal sun. { } m. r. r. i. - . { a} see robertson smith on 'semitic religion.' { b} see sayce's herodotus, p. . { c} see rhys' rhind lectures; i am not convinced by the evidence. { } academy, september , . { a} anth. rel. p. . { b} plantagenet, planta genista.--a. l. { c} see m. r. r. ii. , for a criticism of this theory. { } religion of the semites, pp. , . { } die religionen, p. . { } anth. rel. p. . { } dalton. { a} strabo, xiii. . pausanias, i. , . { b} crooke, introduction to popular religion of north india, p. . { a} c. and m. p. . { b} contributions, ii. . { a} evidence in g. b. i. , . { b} compare liebrecht, 'the eaten god,' in zur volkskunde, p. . { a} cf. g. b. ii. , for evidence. { b} m. r. r. ii. . { c} g. b. ii. - . { d} in encyclop. brit. he thinks it 'very probable.' { a} i. . { b} m. r. r. ii. , - . { c} r. v. iv. , . { } g. b. ii. - . { } g. b. ii. . { a} plutarch, quaest. rom. vi. mclennan, the patriarchal theory, p. , note . { b} g. b. ii. . { a} see g. b. ii. - . { b} religion of the semites, p. . { } g. b. ii. , . { a} custom and myth, p. . { b} m. r. r. ii. . { c} op. cit. ii. . { } lectures on science of language, second series, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { } anthropological religion. { a} m. r. r. i. - . { b} ibid. i. . { c} anth. rel. p. . { } 'totemism,' encyclop. brit. { a} m. r. r. ii. . { b} ibid. ii. . { } m. r.. r.. i. , ; ii. , . { a} greek etym. engl. transl. i. . { b} sprachvergleichung und urgeschichte, p. . { } gr. etym. i. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} ii. . cf. oldenberg in deutsche rundschau, , p. . { b} r. v. iv. , . { } aglaophamus, i. . { } custom and myth, i. - . m. r. r. ii. - . { } custom and myth, pp. - . { a} culte des fetiches, . { b} codrington, journal anthrop. inst., feb. . { a} c. and m. p. , note. { b} rochas, les forces non definies, , pp. - , , . { c} revue bleue, , p. . { d} de brosses, p. . { a} c. and m. p. . { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} lectures on the science of language, nd series, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. and . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} paris: oeuvres, , iii. . { b} m. r. r. ii. . { } i have no concern with his criticism of mr. herbert spencer (p. ), as i entirely disagree with that philosopher's theory. the defence of 'animism' i leave to dr. tylor. { } meyer, , apud brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . { } my italics. { a} m. r. r. ii. - . { b} ibid. ii. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} de dianae antiquissima apud graecos natura, p. . vratislaw, . { b} de diane brauron, p. . compare, for all the learning, mr. farnell, in cults of the greek states. { a} m. r. r. i. x. { b} life in california, pp. , . { c} religion of the semites, p. . { d} see also mr. frazer, golden bough, ii. - ; and robertson smith, op. cit. pp. - . { e} apostolius, viii. ; vii. . { a} melanesians, p. . { b} samoa, p. . { c} m. r. r. ii. . { d} see also frazer, golden bough, ii. . { e} m. r. r. ii. . { a} m. r. r. ii. . { b} custom and myth, 'star myths.' { a} l. preller, rom. myth. p. , gives etymologies. { b} aen. xi. . { a} a. w. f. p. . { b} dionys. halic. iii. . { c} hist. nat. vii. . { d} aen. xi. . { e} aen. xi. . { a} serv. aen. vii. . { b} authorities in a. f. w. k. p. . { a} herabkunft, p. . { b} pausanias, viii. . { c} a. w. f. k. xxii. xxiii. { } janus, pp. - . { } home, the medium, was, or affected to be, entranced in his fire tricks, as was bernadette, at lourdes, in the miracle du cierge. { } the photograph referred to is evidently taken from a sketch by hand, and is not therefore a photograph from life.--editor. the original photograph was hereon sent to the editor and acknowledged by him.--a. l. { } proces, quicherat, ii. , { } introduction to popular religion and folk-lore in northern india, by w. crookes, b.a., p. . { } iamblichus, de myst. iii. . { } folk-lore, september . { } quoted by dr. boissarie in his book, lourdes, p. , from a book by dr. dozous, now rare. thanks to information from dr. boissarie, i have procured the book by dr. dozous, an eye-witness of the miracle, and have verified the quotation. { } predvestniki spiritizma za posleanie lyet. a. m. aksakoff, st. petersburg, . see mr. leaf's review, proceedings s. p. r. xii. . { } prim. cult. i. . { } journal of anthrop. institute, x. iii. { a} tales and traditions of the eskimo, p. . { b} relations, , p. . { a} abor. of victoria, i. . { b} dalton, op. cit. { } codrington, journal anthrop. institute, x. iii. for america, compare relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . { } the connection between the moon and the hare is also found in sanskrit, in mexican, in some of the south sea islands, and in german and buddhist folklore. probably what we call 'the man in the moon' seemed very like a hare to various races, roused their curiosity, and provoked explanations in the shape of myths. { } hahn, tsuni-goam, p. . { } codrington, op. cit, p. . { } codrington, op. cit. { a} bastian, heilige sage. { b} primitive culture, i. . { } kuhn, die herabkunft der feuers und der gottertranks. berlin, . { a} herabkunft, pp. , . { b} dupret, paris, . translation by m. parmentier. { c} pliny, hist. nat. xiii. . bent. cyclades. { a} servius ad virg., eclogue vi. . { b} australian legendary tales. nutt: london, . mrs. parker knows australian dialects, and gives one story in the original. her tribes live on the narran river, in new south wales. { c} bosquet, la normandie merveilleuse. paris, . { d} journal anthrop. institute, november, . { } odyssey, v. - . { } references for savage myths of the fire-stealer will be found--for the ahts, in sproat; for the tribes of the pacific coast, in bancroft; for australians in brough smyth's aborigines of victoria. { } trubner, strasburg, . bulfinch's mythology the age of fable the age of chivalry legends of charlemagne by thomas bulfinch complete in one volume [editor's note: the etext contains all three sections.] publishers' preface no new edition of bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete without some notice of the american scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "the age of fable" has come to be ranked with older books like "pilgrim's progress," "gulliver's travels," "the arabian nights," "robinson crusoe," and five or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be called really complete. many readers of the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds since those early years. yet to the majority of this great circle of readers and students the name bulfinch in itself has no significance. thomas bulfinch was a native of boston, mass., where he was born in . his boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college in the boston schools. he finished his scholastic training at harvard college, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his home city. for a long time later in life he was employed as an accountant in the boston merchants' bank. his leisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. the plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the author's preface. "age of fable," first edition, ; "the age of chivalry," ; "the boy inventor," ; "legends of charlemagne, or romance of the middle ages," ; "poetry of the age of fable," ; "oregon and eldorado, or romance of the rivers," . in this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "the age of fable," "the age of chivalry," and "legends of charlemagne" are included. scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out in more complete detail. the section on northern mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "nibelungen lied," together with a summary of wagner's version of the legend in his series of music-dramas. under the head of "hero myths of the british race" have been included outlines of the stories of beowulf, cuchulain, hereward the wake, and robin hood. of the verse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been added from literature which has appeared since bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally supervised the new edition. finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. all the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of each has been given. thus what was a mere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected with "the age of fable." acknowledgments are due the writings of dr. oliver huckel for information on the point of wagner's rendering of the nibelungen legend, and m. i. ebbutt's authoritative volume on "hero myths and legends of the british race," from which much of the information concerning the british heroes has been obtained author's preface if no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then mythology has no claim to the appellation. but if that which tends to make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. for mythology is the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness. without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our own language cannot be understood and appreciated. when byron calls rome "the niobe of nations," or says of venice, "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. milton abounds in similar allusions. the short poem "comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "on the morning of the nativity" half as many. through "paradise lost" they are scattered profusely. this is one reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy milton. but were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found "musical as is apollo's lute." our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets, from spenser to longfellow, will show how general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology. the prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant and suggestive illustration. one can hardly take up a number of the "edinburgh" or "quarterly review" without meeting with instances. in macaulay's article on milton there are twenty such. but how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through the medium of the languages of greece and rome? to devote study to a species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age like this. the time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. but may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations? we reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. let any one who doubts it read the first page of the "aeneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred of juno," the "decree of the parcae," the "judgment of paris," and the "honors of ganymede," without this knowledge. shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or by a reference to the classical dictionary? we reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it. moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? the story of ceyx and halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (smith's) classical dictionary; and so of others. our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. we have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of education. the index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a classical dictionary for the parlor. most of the classical legends in "stories of gods and heroes" are derived from ovid and virgil. they are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive reading. neither are they in verse, as well for other reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. the attempt has been made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form. the northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from mallet's "northern antiquities." these chapters, with those on oriental and egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in the same volume with the classical fables. the poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer several valuable purposes. they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to find occasion for. such stories and parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given. but such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the english reader need feel no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of english literature, of either sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in polite conversation. in the "stories of gods and heroes" the compiler has endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning to the english reader, by presenting the stories of pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. in "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern europe. it is believed that this presentation of a literature which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it may afford. the tales, though not to be trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. the italian poets, dante and ariosto, the english, spenser, scott, and tennyson, and our own longfellow and lowell, are examples of this. these legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in arthur, launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the greek and roman mythology. and if every well-educated young person is expected to know the story of the golden fleece, why is the quest of the sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? or if an allusion to the shield of achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one to excalibar, the famous sword of arthur?-- "of arthur, who, to upper light restored, with that terrific sword, which yet he brandishes for future war, shall lift his country's fame above the polar star." [footnote: wordsworth] it is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. we are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. the associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations afford to the american traveller when he visits england, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned localities. the legends of charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the subject. in an age when intellectual darkness enveloped western europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in italy. of these, pulci (born in ), boiardo ( ), and ariosto ( ) took for their subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. these fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with immortality. it may safely be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most cherished creations of human genius. in "stories of gods and heroes," "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and conversation. the "legends of charlemagne" is intended to carry out the same design. like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. it claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the productions of the great poets of italy. some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young person. in reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations of fabulists. the siren of ulysses is the prototype of the siren of orlando, and the character of circe reappears in alcina. the fountains of love and hatred may be traced to the story of cupid and psyche; and similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of tristram and isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream." there are many other instances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance. the sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the italian poets named above; next, the "romans de chevalerie" of the comte de tressan; lastly, certain german collections of popular tales. some chapters have been borrowed from leigh hunt's translations from the italian poets. it seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete. thomas bulfinch. contents stories of gods and heroes i. introduction ii. prometheus and pandora iii. apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe--cephalus and procris iv. juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon --latona and the rustics v. phaeton vi. midas--baucis and philemon vii. proserpine--glaucus and scylla viii. pygmalion--dryope--venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus ix. ceyx and halcyone x. vertumnus and pomona--iphis and anaxarete xi. cupid and psyche xii. cadmus--the myrmidons xiii. nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander xiv. minerva and arachne--niobe xv. the graeae and gorgons--perseus and medusa--atlas--andromeda xvi. monsters: giants--sphinx--pegasus and chimaera--centaurs --griffin--pygmies xvii. the golden fleece--medea xviii. meleager and atalanta xix. hercules--hebe and ganymede xx. theseus and daedalus--castor and pollux--festivals and games xxi. bacchus and ariadne xxii. the rural deities--the dryads and erisichthon --rhoecus--water deities--camenae--winds xxiii. achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope xxiv. orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus --thamyris--marsyas--melampus--musaeus xxv. arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho xxvi. endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea xxvii. the trojan war xxviii. the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra xxix. adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--the cyclopes --circe--sirens--scylla and charybdis--calypso xxx. the phaeacians--fate of the suitors xxxi. adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus xxxii. the infernal regions--the sibyl xxxiii. aeneas in italy--camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus --mezentius--turnus xxxiv. pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles xxxv. origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses --poets of mythology xxxvi. monsters (modern)--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander xxxvii. eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha --the grand lama--prester john xxxviii. northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior xxxix. thor's visit to jotunheim xl. the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--skalds--iceland --teutonic mythology--the nibelungen lied --wagner's nibelungen ring xli. the druids--iona king arthur and his knights i. introduction ii. the mythical history of england iii. merlin iv. arthur v. arthur (continued) vi. sir gawain vii. caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm viii. launcelot of the lake ix. the adventure of the cart x. the lady of shalott xi. queen guenever's peril xii. tristram and isoude xiii. tristram and isoude (continued) xiv. sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot xv. the round table xvi. sir palamedes xvii. sir tristram xviii. perceval xix. the sangreal, or holy graal xx. the sangreal (continued) xxi. the sangreal (continued) xxii. sir agrivain's treason xxiii. morte d'arthur the mabinogeon introductory note i. the britons ii. the lady of the fountain iii. the lady of the fountain (continued) iv. the lady of the fountain (continued) v. geraint, the son of erbin vi. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) vii. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) viii. pwyll, prince of dyved ix. branwen, the daughter of llyr x. manawyddan xi. kilwich and olwen xii. kilwich and olwen (continued) xiii. taliesin hero myths of the british race beowulf cuchulain, champion of ireland hereward the wake robin hood legends of charlemagne introduction the peers, or paladins the tournament the siege of albracca adventures of rinaldo and orlando the invasion of france the invasion of france (continued) bradamante and rogero astolpho and the enchantress the orc astolpho's adventures continued, and isabella's begun. medoro orlando mad zerbino and isabella astolpho in abyssinia the war in africa rogero and bradamante the battle of roncesvalles rinaldo and bayard death of rinaldo huon of bordeaux huon of bordeaux (continued) huon of bordeaux (continued) ogier, the dane ogier, the dane (continued) ogier, the dane (continued) glossary stories of gods and heroes chapter i introduction the religions of ancient greece and rome are extinct. the so- called divinities of olympus have not a single worshipper among living men. they belong now not to the department of theology, but to those of literature and taste. there they still hold their place, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closely connected with the finest productions of poetry and art, both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion. we propose to tell the stories relating to them which have come down to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. our readers may thus at the same time be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created, and put in possession of information indispensable to every one who would read with intelligence the elegant literature of his own day. in order to understand these stories, it will be necessary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe which prevailed among the greeks--the people from whom the romans, and other nations through them, received their science and religion. the greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine, the only seas with which they were acquainted. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans, dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars, also, except those forming the wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "comus": "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east" the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter, as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the "odyssey" will show how homer conceived of olympus: "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shmes with purest day. there the inhabitants divine rejoice forever"--cowper. the robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were woven by minerva and the graces and everything of a more solid nature was formed of the various metals. vulcan was architect, smith, armorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in olympus. he built of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved from place to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. he also shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of the sea. he was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. he even endowed with intelligence the golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself. jupiter, or jove (zeus [footnote: the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself a beginning. saturn (cronos) was his father, and rhea (ops) his mother. saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. there is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros) issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself" --shakspeare. ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost." he says the heathens seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man. "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome, (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps,) had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his children. [footnote: this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity cronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera) was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in "paradise lost," book i.: "... from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him: venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas, athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang forth from his head completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus: "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest,'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes) was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. he found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete. the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. [footnote: from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says: "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus), the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidence over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpsichore of choral dance and song, erato of love poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia of comedy. the graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant arts. they were three in number. their names were euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. spenser describes the office of the graces thus: "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the complements of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high, to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three--clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied public justice. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology: saturn was an ancient italian deity. it was attempted to identify him with the grecian god cronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus, [footnote: there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea.] the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus, the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is the latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as their protector through life. on their birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. a modern poet thus alludes to some of the roman gods: "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid, in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." --macaulay, "prophecy of capys." n.b.--it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes are exceptions, and to be pronounced as english words. in the index at the close of the volume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excite the liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. the ancient pagans, not having the information on the subject which we derive from the pages of scripture, had their own way of telling the story, which is as follows: before earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore one aspect, to which we give the name of chaos--a confused and shapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of things. earth, sea, and air were all mixed up together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and the air was not transparent. god and nature at last interposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water took the lowest place, and buoyed up the earth. here some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices in arranging and disposing the earth. he appointed rivers and bays their places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. the air being cleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of the sea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land. but a nobler animal was wanted, and man was made. it is not known whether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether in the earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked still some heavenly seeds. prometheus took some of this earth, and kneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. he gave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turn their faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his to heaven, and gazes on the stars. prometheus was one of the titans, a gigantic race, who inhabited the earth before the creation of man. to him and his brother epimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providing him and all other animals with the faculties necessary for their preservation. epimetheus undertook to do this, and prometheus was to overlook his work, when it was done. epimetheus accordingly proceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various gifts of courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to a third, etc. but when man came to be provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals, epimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he had nothing left to bestow upon him. in his perplexity he resorted to his brother prometheus, who, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this gift man was more than a match for all other animals. it enabled him to make weapons wherewith to subdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm his dwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; and finally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means of trade and commerce. woman was not yet made. the story (absurd enough!) is that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music, etc. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,--such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,--and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more probable than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. then succeeded the silver age, inferior to the golden, but better than that of brass. jupiter shortened the spring, and divided the year into seasons. then, first, men had to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and houses became necessary. caves were the first dwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven of twigs. crops would no longer grow without planting. the farmer was obliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough. next came the brazen age, more savage of temper, and readier to the strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. the hardest and worst was the iron age. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. [footnote: the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo--the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the "messiah" of pope, this idea occurs: "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's "hymn on the nativity," stanzas xiv. and xv.] jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea, sea without shore. here and there an individual remained on a projecting hilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting-place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion, and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge--he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv. of "paradise lost": "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of japhet brought by hermes, she insnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets. he is represented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in their behalf when jove was incensed against them, and who taught them civilization and the arts. but as, in so doing, he transgressed the will of jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of the ruler of gods and men. jupiter had him chained to a rock on mount caucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewed as fast as devoured. this state of torment might have been brought to an end at any time by prometheus, if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involved the stability of jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into favor. but that he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines: "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise; what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy in the endurance and repulse of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." byron also employs the same allusion, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte": "or, like the thief of fire from heaven, wilt thou withstand the shock? and share with him--the unforgiven-- his vulture and his rock?" chapter iii apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe cephalus and procris the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows--weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere represents the god after this victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his "childe harold," iv., : "... the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you." so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face, became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown; i will decorate with you my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. that apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his province, may. the poet armstrong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it: "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame: "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's "adonais" alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers: "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed, and whose wings rain contagion: how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. what will not love discover! it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. next morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed, that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "o hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth." he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "o pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the "sylph's ball," speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover: "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss,) through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the "lusiad" occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love: "... here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakspeare's play of the "midsummer night's dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly loved. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery: but alas! what advantage to disclose it now! she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. moore, in his "legendary ballads," has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus: "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iv juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon--latona and the rustics juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without exciting suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name-- it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said, 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow- ford), rambled on through scythia, and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of the heifer, except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs: "so did he feel who pulled the bough aside, that we might look into a forest wide, telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph--poor pan--how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain. full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication--they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths? learn that i am supplanted in heaven--my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom i have so much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form--she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster-parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says: "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear," etc. and prometheus, in j. r. lowell's poem, says: "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north-star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithesome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole-star, called also the cynosure. milton says: "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes" the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north he calls it also the "star of arcady," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in "comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says: "... some gentle taper! though a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of arcady, or tyrian cynosure." diana and actaeon thus in two instances we have seen juno's severity to her rivals; now let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of her privacy. it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains: "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do?--go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned,--not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's,--and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in shelley's poem "adonais" is the following allusion to the story of actaeon: "'midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men: companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as, usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads, or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied on the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty, when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his "don juan": "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" chapter v phaeton phaeton was the son of apollo and the nymph clymene. one day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son." phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,--but such as sisters' ought to be. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "o light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father,--if you permit me to use that name,--give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "this only request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day. not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face--i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist,--the oath is sworn and must be kept,--but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth, gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the day-star, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [footnote: see proverbial expressions] and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self- command, and knows not what to do,--whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks: tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus, and meander; babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and cayster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter: "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. o, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire" [footnote: see proverbial expressions] his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream. milman, in his poem of "samor," makes the following allusion to phaeton's story: "as when the palsied universe aghast lay mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th' empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o'er phaeton untimely dead" in the beautiful lines of walter savage landor, descriptive of the sea-shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says: "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot wheel stands midway on the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive ear, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." --gebir, book i. chapter vi midas--baucis and philemon bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster and foster-father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of a reward, whatever he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become gold in his hand. he took up a stone; it changed to gold. he touched a sod; it did the same. he took an apple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold- creating power passed into them, and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain god, was chosen umpire. the senior took his seat, and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or head-dress. but his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every time a breeze passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the "wife of bath's tale," makes midas's queen the betrayer of the secret: "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, which, in after times it was said, whoever should untie should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time jupiter, in, human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves, as weary travellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot. he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. while all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet- smelling herbs. upon it she set some of chaste minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd still shows the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints, and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson. the following may serve as a specimen: "they scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist. and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more. the number made the motion slower; the flier, though't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see't; but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side: the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares, warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn; the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." chapter vii proserpine--glaucus and scylla when jupiter and his brothers had defeated the titans and banished them to tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. they were the giants typhon, briareus, enceladus, and others. some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. they were finally subdued and buried alive under mount aetna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano. the fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. while he was thus engaged, venus, who was sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, espied him, and said, "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres,-- "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the gods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors." then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen--the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus built a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt of this story of ceres and proserpine being an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld. it reappears--that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in "paradise lost," book iv.: ". . . not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world,-- ... might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his "ode to melancholy," uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frighted proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of "kubla khan": "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging: "o my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's "rhymes on the road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano, at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft ef enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-- those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him. then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea- gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking personage. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress circe. accordingly he repaired to her island--the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form. i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,--for that i do not wish,--but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. if she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. keats, in his "endymion," has given a new version of the ending of "glaucus and scylla." glaucus consents to circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. he returns to the sea, and there finds the body of scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will appear and help him. endymion fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring glaucus to youth, and scylla and all the drowned lovers to life. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea- change": "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self-intent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc. --keats. chapter viii pygmalion--dryope-venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman came anywhere near it. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love,--bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand--a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife"--he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead--"one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem the "ideals," applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. the following translation is furnished by a friend: "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then, in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation, the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." --s. g. b. dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give it to a nurse. let it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark.' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes, the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in "endymion," alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 't was a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc. venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts--paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from heaven, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana; and calls her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so high as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask me why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his "comus": "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th' assyrian queen;" etc. apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white. [footnote: it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.] and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his "endymion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's "lycidas": "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." chapter ix ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace, without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best, therefore, to make a voyage to carlos in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house,--aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken, he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gave the word to take in sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal--a stygian blackness. the vessel shares all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help,--alas, in vain,--upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. to her his thoughts cling. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the meanwhile halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god somnus. here phoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawning, with crested head, never there calls aloud to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand,--for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachine, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons,-- morpheus,--the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers, "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him, i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood,"--and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me, to trust himself to the waves. oh, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle, i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least, i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the seashore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "while he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every object, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's "bride of abydos" might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse: "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow, that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high, then levelled with the wave ..." milton in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist smoothly the waters kist whispering new joys to the mild ocean, who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in "endymion," says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter x vertumnus and pomona the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. pomona was of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for orests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. armed with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. o how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. in this way he gained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us but its useless leaves. and equally the vine, if it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you,--rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you,--who loves you better than you have any idea of,--dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel,--you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, o ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this: let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reft from my life. thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse. thomson in the "seasons" alludes to him: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and as such is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." chapter xi cupid and psyche a certain king and queen had three daughters. the charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and juno. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so, calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying, he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced. "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces." psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses." psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his "comus": "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side two blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. harvey: "they wove bright fables in the days of old, when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given, that led her through the world,--love's worshipper,-- to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city,--by the haunted fount,-- through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,-- 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but nevermore they met since doubts and fears, those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his "ode to psyche": "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censor teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's "summer fete" a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche-- "... not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light;-- for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow. that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul, (though few would think it,) and sparkling thus on brow so white tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter xii cadmus--the myrmidons jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away europa, the daughter of agenor, king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in- gushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood, and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain, the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets with their nodding plumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and says: ... "--pleasing was his shape, and lovely never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus" for an explanation of the last allusion, see oracle of aesculapius, p. . the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles, in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name, down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his war with minos, king of crete. cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew, that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them, i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder a temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. o how many offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow! at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'o jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'o may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, o father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches, though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain- gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple, my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them i called them myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter xiii nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander nisus and scylla minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and o if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. o that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me?--me who have given you victory,--who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, but not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle ing aloft,--it was her father who had been changed into that form,--seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of--reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. o how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me!" "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in "comus." she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention: "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green, and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likest thy narcissus are? o, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how. not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'" etc. --paradise lost, book iv. no one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to by the poets than that of narcissus. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth, struck blind by lightning "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate." the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook, thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamoured he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a flower [footnote: the sunflower.] which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. hood, in his "flowers," thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun;-- but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore, in the town of sestos, lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither all sweet maidens soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile o horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the "bride of abydos" he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron thus alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. o, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." chapter xiv minerva--niobe minerva minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she was said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those of women,--spinning, weaving, and needlework. she was also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. there was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. she assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave arachne some friendly advice "i have had much experience," said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, [footnote: this correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from ovid.] in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a golden shower. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she then touched the forehead of arachne and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. "live," she said, "guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his "muiopotmos," adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare, she stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare, and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." [footnote: sir james mackintosh says of this, "do you think that even a chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more mmute exactness than the following lines: 'the velvet nap,' etc.?"--life, vol. ii, .] and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: "upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "o, then beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his "palace of art," describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "... sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his "princess" there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana,--when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows,--that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this!--to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes, and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities,--put off the laurel from your brows,--have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on the cynthian mountain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there with the rest,--some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah me!" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow,--like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,--gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror." scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! o spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now: the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. . this affecting story has been made the subject of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe, we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in "rhymes on the road": "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. chapter xv the graeae or gray-maids--perseus--medusa--atlas--andromeda the graeae and the gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa perseus was the son of jupiter and danae. his grandfather acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to polydectes, the king of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. when perseus was grown up polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest of medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. she was once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. perseus, favored by minerva and mercury, the former of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged shoes, approached medusa while she slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut off her head and gave it to minerva, who fixed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his "comus," thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds ... the surges baited by the fierce north-east, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" --imitations of shakspeare. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. the sea-monster perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name, and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his "penseroso," where he addresses melancholy as the ".... goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen" because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. memnon was an aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a future chapter. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of warlike clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated--"you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done." phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus,--"i will make my enemy defend me." then with a loud voice he exclaimed, "if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's "samor": "as'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." chapter xvi monsters giants, sphinx, pegasus and chimaera, centaurs, griffin, and pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. in this condition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and called oedipus, or swollen-foot. many years afterwards laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the highroad. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wandering he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king, iobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all, till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning of the seventh book of "paradise lost": "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing upled by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air (thy tempering); with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere), dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander and forlorn." young, in his "night thoughts," speaking of the sceptic, says: "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment, he condemns himself. who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol ii, p pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him as soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his "pegasus in pound." shakspeare alludes to pegasus in "henry iv.," where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship" the centaurs these monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia they were among the guests. at the feast eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but not all the centaurs were like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant--aesculapius was intrusted to his charge by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve aesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero, awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton uses the pygmies for a simile, "paradise lost," book i.: "... like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, "paradise lost," book ii,: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold," etc. chapter xvii the golden fleece--medea the golden fleece in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram vaulted into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont,--now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phryxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel named "argo," from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the "argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. it remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a few drops of a preparation which medea had supplied. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel before aeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the "argo" to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name "argo" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his "ode on st. cecilia's day," thus celebrates the launching of the ship "argo," and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of "the fleece" there is an account of the ship "argo" and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial," etc. hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the "argo" put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrme, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my spouse, would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, take some years from my life and add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate, [footnote: hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach.] the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags,--animals tenacious of life,-- and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these with many other things "without a name" she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then turning away their faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?" their hearts failed them and their weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus, and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in "macbeth." the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc --macbeth, act iv, scene and again: macbeth.--what is't you do? witches,--a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "medea," where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" chapter xviii meleager and atalanta one of the heroes of the argonautic expedition was meleager, son of oeneus and althea, king and queen of calydon. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus, afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war,--these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear, with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. plexippus and toxeus, the brothers of meleager's mother, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou hast lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes, and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,--"i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron, in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." --childe harold, iv. in moore's "rhymes on the road," the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xix hercules--hebe and ganymede hercules hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. he was, however, by the arts of juno rendered subject to eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the "twelve labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was the slaughter of the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone. this well had been discovered by amymone when the country was suffering from drought, and the story was that neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went and persuaded the rest that the strangers were carrying off their queen. they instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was getting the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. milton, in his "comus," makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus and nieces of atlas: "... amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erythea, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra, the earth, was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were) they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine, and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their footprints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus, and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the hand-maidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides, from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." [footnote: alcides, a name of hercules.] the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end. but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the "ideal and life," illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. "till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." --s. g. b. hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearer to the gods. the usual story is that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the athenaeum gallery. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy, whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his "palace of art," describes among the decorations on the walls a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede, his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's "prometheus" jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the "choice of hercules" may be found in the "tatler," no. . chapter xx theseus--daedalus--castor and pollux theseus theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezen. he was brought up at troezen, and when arrived at manhood was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her, theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means, find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. [footnote: one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is owned by the athenaeum, boston, and deposited, in the museum of fine arts.] his excuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so. on approaching the coast of attica, theseus forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the under-world. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream,"--the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus, or sacred robe of minerva, was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games it seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said, by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea," said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "... with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus in the early history of rome they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his "lays of ancient rome," thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven, through billows and through gales. if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." chapter xxi bacchus--ariadne bacchus bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made known her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his "drinking song" thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves of zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses," it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus, beholding him with wrathful countenance, said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner, unterrified, responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus, the leader of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' 'naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;' took any place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once--strange as it may seem, it is true,--the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters of berries. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the men were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the same beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. trembling with fear, the god cheered me. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer towards naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution the prison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war- horse. he penetrated through the wood and reached an open space where the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon him and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's "comus," at line , the story of circe will be found in chapter xxix. "bacchus that first from out the purple grapes crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan manners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine)." ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while the ungrateful theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her, and made her his wife. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, then the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xxii the rural deities--erisichthon--rhoecus--the water deities-- camenae--winds the rural deities pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one class of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we are about to record. milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "... universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "... in shadier bower, more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." --paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "... great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from the sea, and hear old triton blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem "die gotter griechenlands," expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poet, mrs. e. barrett browning, in her poem called "the dead pan." the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up, poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton in his "hymn on the nativity": "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: "i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied,--to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear and shuddering, and famine. go and tell the last to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance" (for famine dwells very far from ceres), "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she delivered the commands of ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. famine obeyed the commands of ceres and sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke, his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough for him. the more he ate the more he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and though her new master was not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag,--got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life and bade him ask what reward he would. rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her messenger and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, j. r. lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the watery element. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the like. he created the horse and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. having won her he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy was also assigned to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan that thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god, under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portunus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of "comus": "... sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook, [footnote: proteus] by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus' spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands. by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet;" etc. armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. o comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy;" etc. tennyson, also, in his "palace of art," gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview: "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind; zephyrus or favonius, the west; notus or auster, the south; and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost," where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep. "... he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the "night thoughts," addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable) for whom the winter rose must blow, ... ... and silky soft favonius breathe still softer or be chid!" chapter xxiii achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope achelous and hercules the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power? sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his stepmother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield to you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clenching his hand in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it 'cornucopia.'" the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, "paradise lost," book iv.: "... that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become the servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysos. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self- devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet "on his deceased wife:" "methought i saw my late espoused saint brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." j. r. lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. "and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after-poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." antigone a large proportion both of the interesting persons and of the exalted acts of legendary greece belongs to the female sex. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias in his youth had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one on pain of death to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. her lover, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her "characteristics of women," has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakspeare's "king lear." the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? o, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. o my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." --francklin's sophocles. penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hoping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xxiv orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus--thamyris-- marsyas--melampus--musaeus orpheus and eurydice orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics, eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love has led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell,"--and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. they roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his "ode for st. cecilia's day" the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if't is no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries; ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue: eurydice the woods eurydice the floods eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung" the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus is alluded to by southey in his "thalaba": "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose' far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment, the waterfall remote, the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves" aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident: aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "o mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment, he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. when noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but finding all would not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do yot want of me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days, you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in "the task," cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc.: "less worthy of applause though more admired because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in "comus": "sabrina fair! listen where thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead. amphion, having become king of thebes, fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. see tennyson's poem of "amphion" for an amusing use made of this story. linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, "paradise lost," book iii., . marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded melampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his "il penseroso": "but o, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bid the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xxv arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the "age of fable," that is, of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, arion from schlegel, and ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "o periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean--but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life would be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die, as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded,--they thought only of their booty,--but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood,--ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks: "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well- proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spenser represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his lore, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his "childe harold," canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed. "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? did he fall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the amphitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings? the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we the fearful family of night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches--"look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the "lamentation of danae," the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father, acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child, perseus, when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself, as recorded by tradition. on one occasion, when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of thy performance; castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in "childe harold," canto ii.: "childe harold sailed and passed the barren spot where sad penelope o'erlooked the wave, and onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, the lover's refuge and the lesbian's grave. dark sappho! could not verse immortal save that breast imbued with such immortal fire? "'twas on a grecian autumn's gentle eve childe harold hailed leucadia's cape afar;" etc. those who wish to know more of sappho and her "leap" are referred to the "spectator," nos. and . see also moore's "evenings in greece." chapter xxvi endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea diana and endymion endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death.--s. g. b. the "endymion" of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "... the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding-place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to endymion thus: "... these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less than i of thee." fletcher, in the "faithful shepherdess," tells: "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. the blinded hero followed the sound of a cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading through the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their number was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." --locksley hall. byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. hemans's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victory declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his "botanic garden," says: "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." book i., ., . acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred of polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. o venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then for the first time he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!' the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. dryden, in his "cymon and iphigenia," has told the story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to the old story of galatea and the cyclops. "what not his father's care nor tutor's art could plant with pains in his unpolished heart, the best instructor, love, at once inspired, as barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife soon taught the sweet civilities of life." chapter xxvii the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus: at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "for the fairest." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva each claimed the apple. jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope, and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect; diomede, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero; ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. he felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas, the soothsayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his "dream of fair women," makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly,--and--nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife, laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "'the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand,-- mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "'yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod,--these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "'but should suspense permit the foe to cry, "behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die?" in soul i swept the indignity away: old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought.' "... upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" "the iliad" the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, "the iliad," begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon, enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented, and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now instead of besieging troy they were in a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed and struck ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. then ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all had borrowed of venus her girdle, called "cestus," which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was despatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that, while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice: achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates: diomede, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear, but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also descended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who retiring a short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortunes, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might despatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, o, give us day." --cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "... lord of earth and air! o king! o father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey, but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and the rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from the city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah, no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated. achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lightning as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious," so saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him around the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. while achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba, his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hinderance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles, and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles, and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth, and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy thronging forth encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." --pope. chapter xxviii the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra the fall of troy the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis his mother had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [footnote : the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if be were invulnerable?] the body of achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis-- ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the aid of the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomed was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he sukcceeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. [footnote : tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.] there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this? have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part, i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared, advancing over the sea, two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. a cast of it is owned by the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the "childe harold" of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending;--vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's "description of a city shower": "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and ever and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through); laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus, the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, [footnote : pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial. see proverbial expressions.] and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia, and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the "fleece," thus alludes to this incident: "... many yet adhere to the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed, casting the whirling spindle as they walk. this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." --comus. menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. it was intended by the conspirators to slay his son orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius orestes grew up with the king's son pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to be a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched over him. at length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution,--just, had it but been from hands less near,--in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "... the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy the facts relating to the city of troy are still unknown to history. antiquarians have long sought for the actual city and some record of its rulers. the most interesting explorations were those conducted about by the german scholar, henry schliemann, who believed that at the mound of hissarlik, the traditional site of troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital. schliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or four settlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finally came upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be "priam's treasure." scholars are by no means agreed as to the historic value of these discoveries. chapter xxix adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--cyclopes--circe--sirens --scylla and charybdis--calypso return of ulysses the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of the ships. [footnote: tennyson in the "lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced. "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each others' whispered speech; eating the lotos, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray: to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass."] they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then, turning round his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and despatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. he, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted out, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before. the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only ulysses moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. landing here, ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his "endymion" he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language, thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too--too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster, darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away, shrieking, to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis the next land he would make was thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the topics we have just been considering is from milton's "comus," line : "... i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. see proverbial expressions. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the attributes of the gods. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received the command of jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and everywhere appeared meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of "telemachus," has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who in the shape of mentor accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxx the phaeacians--fate of the suitors the phaeacians ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there, finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaeacians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous, their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for her minerva aided and endowed with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in extent. in it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine press. on the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received those garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any of the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard,-- "... dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the "wooden horse," by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses replied by announcing himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses: "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." --odyssey, book viii. lord carlisle, in his "diary in the turkish and greek waters," thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the 'odyssey.' the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors ulysses had now been away from ithaca for twenty years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. minerva appeared to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. he arrived and sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "... then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept. desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should also go as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from what we concede to it now. as traveller and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "... soon as he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. ... then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house, though young, and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile, her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all were slain, and ulysses was left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. tennyson's poem of "ulysses" represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "... come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew;" etc. chapter xxxi adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus adventures of aeneas we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction, with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but, in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation, and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such a crime, hastened away. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, ambiguous as usual,--"seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies. these were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws and faces pale with hunger. they were sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily and passed the country of the cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses's companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses's adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds,--the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon, and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his "panegyric to the lord protector" (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido, their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion, who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." [footnote : see proverbial expressions.] at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter despatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. the following epigram we find in "elegant extracts": from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying" palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus sent by neptune approached in the guise of phorbas and said: "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down awhile and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,--me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm, it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's "marmion," introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "o, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father, anchises, to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy: the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty."[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off and borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed.[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother, venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxxii the infernal regions--the sibyl the infernal regions as at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil locates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beings who are enumerated as griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death,--forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus, with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, but the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?" she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three-headed dog, cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. o how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause? i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends, but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies." at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within a hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day and another to-morrow. ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill. others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, magnanimous heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow-white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, "o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me." then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "o father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus, the more earth predominates in the composition the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sibyl then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and describes it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. j. r. lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says: "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton also alludes to the same fable in "paradise lost," book iii, . : "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream, lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand grains i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxxiii camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus--mezentius--turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having despatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country." he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then speeded to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress's feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth, worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear, with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana and repelled the thought of marriage. evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander, the arcadian chief, he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. then for the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were, and what their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you, and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amaze at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood, they joined the king and his party and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. infant rome when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas with delight looked and listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered with the skin of a libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body guard. he found the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, [footnote: the poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses. it may be thus translated--"then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."--see proverbial expressions.] having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them into the field. night coming on, the army of turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now, i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you, then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought her entreaties. but do thou, i beseech you, comfort her in her distress. promise me that and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to die with him. raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians, i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. pallas, camilla, turnus while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at her request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the poem of the "aeneid" closes, and we are left to infer that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia for his bride. tradition adds that he founded his city, and called it after her name, lavinium. his son iulus founded alba longa, which was the birthplace of romulus and remus and the cradle of rome itself. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says: "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main." --essay on criticism. chapter xxxiv pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles pythagoras the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively, and it is said visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. at crotona, where he finally established himself, his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their property in one common stock for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he [pythagoras] said so" (ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole because it had a beginning, middle, and end. four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was originally egyptian and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan war i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different times, different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakspeare, in the "merchant of venice," makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his "song for st. cecilia's day": "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakspeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "look, jessica, see how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in his motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." --merchant of venice. the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow; and with your ninefold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. our own poet longfellow, in "verses to a child," thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, and formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's "occupation of orion"-- "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. j. r. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem "to the dandelion": "not in mid june the golden cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood- cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte," alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity amun, afterwards called zeus, or jupiter ammon. amun manifested himself in his word or will, which created kneph and athor, of different sexes. from kneph and athor proceeded osiris and isis. osiris was worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the god of the nile, who annually visited his wife, isis (the earth), by means of an inundation. serapis or hermes is sometimes represented as identical with osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the ruler of tartarus and god of medicine. anubis is the guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. horus or harpocrates was the son of osiris. he is represented seated on a lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's "irish melodies" is an allusion to harpocrates: "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip; like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits ever thus,--his only song to earth and heaven, 'hush all, hush!'" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought during his absence to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was materially assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philae, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. the individual animal who was held to be apis was recognized by certain signs. it was requisite that he should be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead, another, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. as soon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was, however, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. we find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day: "the tomb of apis.--the excavations going on at memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting as pompeii. the monster tomb of apis is now open, after having lain unknown for centuries." milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons, put to flight by the coming of christ. "the brutish god of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." [footnote: there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depend for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.] isis was represinted in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in "maud," iv., : "for the drift of the maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil," etc. oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account, it was established in the following manner: two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at the oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architects, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means, from time to time, purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonias, unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no pracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, bat walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and defected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low- spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents 'were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts, this view in his "hymn on the mativity," and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour: "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos heaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell" in cowper's poem of "yardley oak" there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says: "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeede and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou wast such? of couldst thou speak, as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson, in his "talking oak," alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke; etc. byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says: "for the, he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxxv origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses--poets of mythology origins of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, and inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject; and . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his "history of the world," says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven." there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called cronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." --il penseroso. . the physical theory; according to which the elements of air, fire, and water were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his "excursion," has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology: "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, that simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have been mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have arisen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods to adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on his throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the "iliad," in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, and all olympus to the centre shook." [footnote: cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original: "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope: "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod."] the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minerva at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles, now in the british museum, are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his "summer": "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" etc. and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." see this last allusion explained in chapter xxvii. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome in which it was placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python. (see chapter iii.) the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the "iliad" and "odyssey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says: "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." these seven were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the "aeneid" we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor augustus so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of "paradise lost," from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: "on milton "three poets in three different ages born, greece, italy, and england did adorn the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's "table talk": "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid ovid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the "trista" and "letters from pontus") have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his "metamorphoses" and his "fasti." they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the 'metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the "metamorphoses," of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, and snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure forevermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxxvi modern monsters--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander modern monsters there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird, a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ) the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of the phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his "vulgar errors," published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in "paradise lost," book v., compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "... down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror which was immediately followed by death. in shakspeare's play of "richard the third," lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him." it was formerly believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider, but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy"--and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxiety to know what a cockatrice was like. the following is from aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific collections for purposes of investigation and research. shelley, in his "ode to naples," full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been,--devoured by their own hounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze,--for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as movable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short, with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as anything can be. the salamander the following is from the "life of benvenuto cellini," an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself: "when i was about five years of age, my father, happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was, he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! "o, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxxvii eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha-- grand lama zoroaster our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendency. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman--carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "... the persian,--zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands,-- the loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars, and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." --excursion, book iv. in "childe harold" byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not vainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's "lalla rookh," the "fire worshippers." the gueber chief says, "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that morn and even hail their creator's dwelling-place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to iran and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are: . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yama, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort." the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third name, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; that power not being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes: at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not be maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. he died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and among other things it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long-continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorian christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix. of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorian christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in "paradise lost," book xi., where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,-- "... nor did his eyes not ken th' empire of negus, to his utmost port, ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxviii northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior northern mythology the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations, called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern or prose edda being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an elder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash tree ygdrasill was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt woden, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrum. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrie the valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrie are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." [footnote: gray's ode, "the fatal sisters," is founded on this superstition.] of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is a hammer, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death), the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster had grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidner. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning anguish forms the hangings of the apartments. she may easily be recognized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. he therefore only consented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage enough to do this. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms, provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered thrym and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed: "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled "skirnir for," and the one immediately preceding it, "thrym's quida," will be found poetically told in longfellow's "poets and poetry of europe." chapter xxxix thor's visit to jotunheim thor's visit to jotunheim, the giant's country one day the god thor, with his servant thialfi, and accompanied by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god thor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper." skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir, awakening, cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? me thinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore, i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-- loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king, utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much out-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard-loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor?" said utgard-loki; "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-bearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length after a very violent struggle thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning, at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, "is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, bat the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous that had i not seen it myself i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. chapter xl the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--iceland--teutonic mythology--nibelungen lied the death of baldur baldur the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning,-- "uprose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed" but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the man- sion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them." "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest, and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death" hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace, where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg everything to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. [footnote: in longfellow's poems will be found a poem entitled "tegner's drapa," upon the subject of baldur's death.] the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore where stood baldur's ship "hringham," which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile as her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrie, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding- place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki, finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black or night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship "skidbladnir," which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnarok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battlefield called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden without meeting with great stones of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the "descent of odin" contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on "heroes and hero worship" gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology: "in that strange island, iceland,--burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains], roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield of frost and fire,--where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials,--the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" teutonic mythology in the mythology of germany proper, the name of odin appears as wotan; freya and frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general represented as less warlike in character than those in the scandinavian myths. as a whole, however, teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines with that of the northern nations. the most notable divergence is due to modifications of the legends by reason of the difference in climatic conditions. the more advanced social condition of the germans is also apparent in their mythology. the nibelungen lied one of the oldest myths of the teutonic race is found in the great national epic of the nibelungen lied, which dates back to the prehistoric era when wotan, frigga, thor, loki, and the other gods and goddesses were worshipped in the german forests. the epic is divided into two parts, the first of which tells how siegfried, the youngest of the kings of the netherlands, went to worms, to ask in marriage the hand of kriemhild, sister of gunther, king of burgundy. while he was staying with gunther, siegfried helped the burgundian king to secure as his wife brunhild, queen of issland. the latter had announced publicly that he only should be her husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a huge stone, and in leaping. siegfried, who possessed a cloak of invisibility, aided gunther in these three contests, and brunhild became his wife. in return for these services, gunther gave siegfried his sister kriemhild in marriage. after some time had elapsed, siegfried and kriemhild went to visit gunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relative merits of their husbands. kriemhild, to exalt siegfried, boasted that it was to the latter that gunther owed his victories and his wife. brunhild, in great anger, employed hagan, liegeman of gunther, to murder siegfried. in the epic hagan is described as follows: "well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; his hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late; most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait." --nibelungen lied, stanza . this achilles of german romance stabbed siegfried between the shoulders, as the unfortunate king of the netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during a hunting expedition. the second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later, kriemhild married etzel, king of the huns. after a time, she invited the king of burgundy, with hagan and many others, to the court of her husband. a fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the burgundians but gunther and hagan. these two were taken prisoners and given to kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. for this bloody act of vengeance kriemhild was herself slain by hildebrand, a magician and champion, who in german mythology holds a place to an extent corresponding to that of nestor in the greek mythology. the nibelungen hoard this was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones which siegfried obtained from the nibelungs, the people of the north whom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the netherlands. upon his marriage, siegfried gave the treasure to kriemhild as her wedding portion. after the murder of siegfried, hagan seized it and buried it secretly beneath the rhine at lochham, intending to recover it at a future period. the hoard was lost forever when hagan was killed by kriemhild. its wonders are thus set forth in the poem: "'twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay; though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day. "it was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold; were all the world bought from it, and down the value told, not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, i ween." --nibelungen lied, xix. whoever possessed the nibelungen hoard were termed nibelungers. thus at one time certain people of norway were so called. when siegfried held the treasure he received the title "king of the nibelungers." wagner's nibelungen ring though richard wagner's music-drama of the nibelungen ring bears some resemblance to the ancient german epic, it is a wholly independent composition and was derived from various old songs and sagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story. the principal source was the volsunga saga, while lesser parts were taken from the elder edda and the younger edda, and others from the nibelungen lied, the ecklenlied, and other teutonic folklore. in the drama there are at first only four distinct races,--the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. the gods are the noblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the palace of valhalla on the heights. the giants are a great and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble, and are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth's surface. the dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of the earth. the nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of the water. the valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from the battle-fields and carry them to valhalla. the heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they are destined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the government of the world. the principal gods are wotan, loki, donner, and froh. the chief giants are fafner and fasolt, brothers. the chief dwarfs are alberich and mime, brothers, and later hagan, son of alberich. the chief nymphs are the rhine-daughters, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda. there are nine valkyrie, of whom brunhild is the leading one. wagner's story of the ring may be summarized as follows: a hoard of gold exists in the depths of the rhine, guarded by the innocent rhine-maidens. alberich, the dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. he makes it into a magic ring. it gives him all power, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures. meanwhile wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants to build for him a noble castle, valhalla, from whence to rule the world, promising in payment freya, goddess of youth and love. but the gods find they cannot spare freya, as they are dependent on her for their immortal youth. loki, called upon to provide a substitute, tells of alberich's magic ring and other treasure. wotan goes with loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoard from alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. the gods give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a substitute for freya. the curse at once begins. one giant, fafner, kills his brother to get all, and transforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. the gods enter valhalla over the rainbow bridge. this ends the first part of the drama, called the rhine-gold. the second part, the valkyrie, relates how wotan still covets the ring. he cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to the giants. he stands or falls by his word. so he devises an artifice to get the ring. he will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the ring and the treasures. siegmund and sieglinda are twin children of this new race. sieglinda is carried off as a child and is forced into marriage with hunding. siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins nothung, the great sword, and a bride. brunhild, chief of the valkyrie, is commissioned by wotan at the instance of fricka, goddess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. she disobeys and tries to save him, but hunding, helped by wotan, slays him. sieglinda, however, about to bear the free hero, to be called siegfried, is saved by brunhild, and hid in the forest. brunhild herself is punished by being made a mortal woman. she is left sleeping on the mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate. the drama continues with the story of siegfried, which opens with a scene in the smithy between mime the dwarf and siegfried. mime is welding a sword, and siegfried scorns him. mime tells him something of his mother, sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces of his father's sword. wotan comes and tells mime that only one who has no fear can remake the sword. now siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword nothung. wotan and alberich come to where the dragon fafner is guarding the ring. they both long for it, but neither can take it. soon mime comes bringing siegfried with the mighty sword. fafner comes out, but siegfried slays him. happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the birds. they tell him of the ring. he goes and gets it. siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. it is to curse love and finally bring death. the birds also tell him of mime's treachery. he slays mime. he longs for some one to love. the birds tell him of the slumbering brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries. the dusk of the gods portrays at the opening the three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. it is the beginning of the end. the perfect pair, siegfried and brunhild, appear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood. but siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds of prowess. he gives her the nibelungen ring to keep as a pledge of his love till his return. meanwhile alberich also has begotten a son, hagan, to achieve for him the possession of the ring. he is partly of the gibichung race, and works through gunther and gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. they beguile siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makes him forget brunhild and fall in love with gutrune. under this same spell, he offers to bring brunhild for wife to gunther. now is valhalla full of sorrow and despair. the gods fear the end. wotan murmurs, "o that she would give back the ring to the rhine." but brunhild will not give it up,--it is now her pledge of love. siegfried comes, takes the ring, and brunhild is now brought to the rhine castle of the gibichungs, but siegfried under the spell does not love her. she is to be wedded to gunther. she rises in wrath and denounces siegfried. but at a hunting banquet siegfried is given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain by hagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on brunhild's name in love. then comes the end. the body of siegfried is burned on a funeral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and brunhild rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ring goes back to the rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the gods of valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. they pass, and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun. those who wish to study the differences in the legends of the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring, and the way in which wagner used his ancient material, are referred to professor w. c. sawyer's book on "teutonic legends in the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring," where the matter is treated in full detail. for a very thorough and clear analysis of the ring as wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better for general readers than the volume "the epic of sounds," by freda winworth. the more scholarly work of professor lavignac is indispensable for the student of wagner's dramas. there is much illuminating comment on the sources and materials in "legends of the wagner drama" by j. l. weston. chapter xli the druids--iona druids the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be' al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings," and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the "boat song" in the "lady of the lake": "ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade;" etc. the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on halloweve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language, which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it." they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious. the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands, and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists," etc. pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the "bard." there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. hemans' poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london, may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "... midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter and continued their now dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. lona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba with twelve friends landed on the island of lona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei"--worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three,-- celibacy, poverty, and obedience.--the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near lona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of "reullura," alludes to the married monks of iona: "... the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in lona preached the word with power, and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his "irish melodies," moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "o, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod." in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth centurv that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papal usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the subversion of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of lona." in the "lord of the isles" scott beautifully contrasts the church on lona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns, or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells that mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay! thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard--but witness mine!" king arthur and his knights chapter i introduction on the decline of the roman power, about five centuries after christ, the countries of northern europe were left almost destitute of a national government. numerous chiefs, more or less powerful, held local sway, as far as each could enforce his dominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite for a common object; but, in ordinary times, they were much more likely to be found in hostility to one another. in such a state of things the rights of the humbler classes of society were at the mercy of every assailant; and it is plain that, without some check upon the lawless power of the chiefs, society must have relapsed into barbarism. such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of the chiefs themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints upon one another; secondly, in the influence of the church, which, by every motive, pure or selfish, was pledged to interpose for the protection of the weak; and lastly, in the generosity and sense of right which, however crushed under the weight of passion and selfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. from this last source sprang chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroic character, combining invincible strength and valor, justice, modesty, loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion to weakness, and devotedness to the church; an ideal which, if never met with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highest model for emulation. the word "chivalry" is derived from the french "cheval," a horse. the word "knight," which originally meant boy or servant, was particularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to the privilege of bearing arms. this privilege was conferred on youths of family and fortune only, for the mass of the people were not furnished with arms. the knight then was a mounted warrior, a man of rank, or in the service and maintenance of some man of rank, generally possessing some independent means of support, but often relying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served for the supply of his wants, and often, no doubt, resorting to the means which power confers on its possessor. in time of war the knight was, with his followers, in the camp of his sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding some castle for him. in time of peace he was often in attendance at his sovereign's court, gracing with his presence the banquets and tournaments with which princes cheered their leisure. or he was traversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly bent on redressing wrongs and enforcing rights, sometimes in fulfilment of some vow of religion or of love. these wandering knights were called knights-errant; they were welcome guests in the castles of the nobility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of those secluded abodes, and they were received with honor at the abbeys, which often owed the best part of their revenues to the patronage of the knights; but if no castle or abbey or hermitage were at hand their hardy habits made it not intolerable to them to lie down, supperless, at the foot of some wayside cross, and pass the night. it is evident that the justice administered by such an instrumentality must have been of the rudest description. the force whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs might easily be perverted to inflict them accordingly, we find in the romances, which, however fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners, that a knightly castle was often a terror to the surrounding country; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed knights and ladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set them free, or to be ransomed with money; that hosts of idle retainers were ever at hand to enforce their lord's behests, regardless of law and justice; and that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of no account. this contrariety of fact and theory in regard to chivalry will account for the opposite impressions which exist in men's minds respecting it. while it has been the theme of the most fervid eulogium on the one part, it has been as eagerly denounced on the other. on a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason to congratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern times to the reign of law, and that the civil magistrate, if less picturesque, has taken the place of the mailed champion. the training of a knight the preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was long and arduous. at seven years of age the noble children were usually removed from their father's house to the court or castle of their future patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who taught them the first articles of religion, and respect and reverence for their lords and superiors, and initiated them in the ceremonies of a court. they were called pages, valets, or varlets, and their office was to carve, to wait at table, and to perform other menial services, which were not then considered humiliating. in their leisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp, were instructed in the mysteries of woods and rivers, that is, in hunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrestling, tilting with spears, and performing other military exercises on horseback. at fourteen the page became an esquire, and began a course of severer and more laborious exercises. to vault on a horse in heavy armor; to run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches, under the same encumbrance; to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length of time, without raising the visor or taking breath; to perform with grace all the evolutions of horsemanship,--were necessary preliminaries to the reception of knighthood, which was usually conferred at twenty-one years of age, when the young man's education was supposed to be completed. in the meantime, the esquires were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all those refinements of civility which formed what was in that age called courtesy. the same castle in which they received their education was usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, and the page was encouraged, at a very early age, to select some lady of the court as the mistress of his heart, to whom he was taught to refer all his sentiments, words, and actions. the service of his mistress was the glory and occupation of a knight, and her smiles, bestowed at once by affection and gratitude, were held out as the recompense of his well-directed valor. religion united its influence with those of loyalty and love, and the order of knighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and religious awe that attended the priesthood, became an object of ambition to the greatest sovereigns. the ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. after undergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in prayer, the candidate confessed, and received the sacrament. he then clothed himself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the church, or the hall, where the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightly sword suspended from his neck, which the officiating priest took and blessed, and then returned to him. the candidate then, with folded arms, knelt before the presiding knight, who, after some questions about his motives and purposes in requesting admission, administered to him the oaths, and granted his request. some of the knights present, sometimes even ladies and damsels, handed to him in succession the spurs, the coat of mail, the hauberk, the armlet and gauntlet, and lastly he girded on the sword. he then knelt again before the president, who, rising from his seat, gave him the "accolade," which consisted of three strokes, with the flat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the candidate, accompanied by the words: "in the name of god, of st. michael, and st. george, i make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, and loyal!" then he received his helmet, his shield, and spear; and thus the investiture ended. freemen, villains, serfs, and clerks the other classes of which society was composed were, first, freemen, owners of small portions of land independent, though they sometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more opulent neighbors, whose power was necessary for their protection. the other two classes, which were much the most numerous, were either serfs or villains, both of which were slaves. the serfs were in the lowest state of slavery. all the fruits of their labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, and by whom they were fed and clothed. the villians were less degraded. their situation seems to have resembled that of the russian peasants at this day. like the serfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred with it by purchase; but they paid only a fixed rent to the landlord, and had a right to dispose of any surplus that might arise from their industry. the term "clerk" was of very extensive import. it comprehended, originally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, or clerical order, among whom, however, might be found a multitude of married persons, artisans or others. but in process of time a much wider rule was established; every one that could read being accounted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the "benefit of clergy," that is, exemption from capital and some other forms of punishment, in case of crime. tournaments the splendid pageant of a tournament between knights, its gaudy accessories and trappings, and its chivalrous regulations, originated in france. tournaments were repeatedly condemned by the church, probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and the often fatal results. the "joust," or "just," was different from the tournament. in these, knights fought with their lances, and their object was to unhorse their antagonists; while the tournaments were intended for a display of skill and address in evolutions, and with various weapons, and greater courtesy was observed in the regulations. by these it was forbidden to wound the horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike a knight after he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his helmet. the ladies encouraged their knights in these exercises; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's feats were the theme of romance and song. the stands overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in the shapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens, magnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners. every combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servant d'amour he was. he was wont to look up to the stand, and strengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that were raining their influence on him from above. the knights also carried favors, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets, clasps,--in short, some piece of female habiliment,--attached to their helmets, shields, or armor. if, during the combat, any of these appendages were dropped or lost the fair donor would at times send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with his exertions. mail armor mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and which derived its name from maille, a french word for mesh, was of two kinds, plate or scale mail, and chain mail. it was originally used for the protection of the body only, reaching no lower than the knees. it was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist by a girdle. gloves and hose of mail were afterwards added, and a hood, which, when necessary, was drawn over the head, leaving the face alone uncovered. to protect the skin from the impression of the iron network of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed, which, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used to efface the marks of the armor. the hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. some hauberks opened before, like a modern coat; others were closed like a shirt. the chain mail of which they were composed was formed by a number of iron links, each link having others inserted into it, the whole exhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some instances at least) the meshes were circular, with each link separately riveted. the hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a sword; but the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, or drive the iron into the flesh. to guard against this, a thick and well- stuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which was commonly added an iron breastplate. hence the expression "to pierce both plate and mail," so common in the earlier poets. mail armor continued in general use till about the year , when it was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits consisting of pieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the different parts of the body. shields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, or some similar substance. to secure them, in some sort, from being cut through by the sword, they were surrounded with a hoop of metal. helmets the helmet was composed of two parts: the headpiece, which was strengthened within by several circles of iron, and the visor, which, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see through, so contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, to be raised or lowered at pleasure. some helmets had a further improvement called a bever, from the italian bevere, to drink. the ventayle, or "air-passage," is another name for this. to secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of being struck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of the hauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown it was necessary to undo these laces before he could be put to death; though this was sometimes effected by lifting up the skirt of the hauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. the instrument of death was a small dagger, worn on the right side. romances in ages when there were no books, when noblemen and princes themselves could not read, history or tradition was monopolized by the story-tellers. they inherited, generation after generation, the wondrous tales of their predecessors, which they retailed to the public with such additions of their own as their acquired information supplied them with. anachronisms became of course very common, and errors of geography, of locality, of manners, equally so. spurious genealogies were invented, in which arthur and his knights, and charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derive their descent from aeneas, hector, or some other of the trojan heroes. with regard to the derivation of the word "romance," we trace it to the fact that the dialects which were formed in western europe, from the admixture of latin with the native languages, took the name of langue romaine. the french language was divided into two dialects. the river loire was their common boundary. in the provinces to the south of that river the affirmative, yes, was expressed by the word oc; in the north it was called oil (oui); and hence dante has named the southern language langue d'oc, and the northern langue d'oil. the latter, which was carried into england by the normans, and is the origin of the present french, may be called the french romane; and the former the provencal, or provencial romane, because it was spoken by the people of provence and languedoc, southern provinces of france. these dialects were soon distinguished by very opposite characters. a soft and enervating climate, a spirit of commerce encouraged by an easy communication with other maritime nations, the influx of wealth, and a more settled government, may have tended to polish and soften the diction of the provencials, whose poets, under the name of troubadours, were the masters of the italians, and particularly of petrarch. their favorite pieces were sirventes (satirical pieces), love-songs, and tensons, which last were a sort of dialogue in verse between two poets, who questioned each other on some refined points of loves' casuistry. it seems the provencials were so completely absorbed in these delicate questions as to neglect and despise the composition of fabulous histories of adventure and knighthood, which they left in a great measure to the poets of the northern part of the kingdom, called trouveurs. at a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and when all the efforts of that chivalry were directed against the enemies of religion, it was natural that literature should receive the same impulse, and that history and fable should be ransacked to furnish examples of courage and piety that might excite increased emulation. arthur and charlemagne were the two heroes selected for this purpose. arthur's pretensions were that he was a brave, though not always a successful warrior; he had withstood with great resolution the arms of the infidels, that is to say of the saxons, and his memory was held in the highest estimation by his countrymen, the britons, who carried with them into wales, and into the kindred country of armorica, or brittany, the memory of his exploits, which their national vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince of the silures (south wales) was magnified into the conqueror of england, of gaul, and of the greater part of europe. his genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginary brutus, and to the period of the trojan war, and a sort of chronicle was composed in the welsh, or armorican language, which, under the pompous title of the "history of the kings of britain," was translated into latin by geoffrey of monmouth, about the year . the welsh critics consider the material of the work to have been an older history, written by st. talian, bishop of st. asaph, in the seventh century. as to charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient to secure his immortality, it was impossible that his holy wars against the saracens should not become a favorite topic for fiction. accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars was written, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by a monk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellish it with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to turpin, who was archbishop of rheims about the year . these fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in languages of local only or of professional access. both turpin and geoffrey might indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the sole latin scholars of those times, and geoffrey's british original would contribute to the gratification of welshmen; but neither could become extensively popular till translated into some language of general and familiar use. the anglo-saxon was at that time used only by a conquered and enslaved nation; the spanish and italian languages were not yet formed; the norman french alone was spoken and understood by the nobility in the greater part of europe, and therefore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of composition. that language was fashionable in england before the conquest, and became, after that event, the only language used at the court of london. as the various conquests of the normans, and the enthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, had familiarized the minds of men with the most marvellous events, their poets eagerly seized the fabulous legends of arthur and charlemagne, translated them into the language of the day, and soon produced a variety of imitations. the adventures attributed to these monarchs, and to their distinguished warriors, together with those of many other traditionary or imaginary heroes, composed by degrees that formidable body of marvellous histories which, from the dialect in which the most ancient of them were written, were called "romances." metrical romances the earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude kind of verse. in this form it is supposed they were sung or recited at the feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. the following specimen of the language and style of robert de beauvais, who flourished in , is from sir walter scott's "introduction to the romance of sir tristrem": "ne voil pas emmi dire, ici diverse la matyere, entre ceus qui solent cunter, e de le cunte tristran parler." "i will not say too much about it, so diverse is the matter, among those who are in the habit of telling and relating the story of tristran." this is a specimen of the language which was in use among the nobility of england, in the ages immediately after the norman conquest. the following is a specimen of the english that existed at the same time, among the common people. robert de brunne, speaking of his latin and french authorities, says: "als thai haf wryten and sayd haf i alle in myn inglis layd, in symple speche as i couthe, that is lightest in manne's mouthe. alle for the luf of symple men, that strange inglis cannot ken." the "strange inglis" being the language of the previous specimen. it was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that the prose romances began to appear. these works generally began with disowning and discrediting the sources from which in reality they drew their sole information. as every romance was supposed to be a real history, the compilers of those in prose would have forfeited all credit if they had announced themselves as mere copyists of the minstrels. on the contrary, they usually state that, as the popular poems upon the matter in question contain many "lesings," they had been induced to translate the real and true history of such or such a knight from the original latin or greek, or from the ancient british or armorican authorities, which authorities existed only in their own assertion. a specimen of the style of the prose romances may be found in the following extract from one of the most celebrated and latest of them, the "morte d'arthur" of sir thomas mallory, of the date of . from this work much of the contents of this volume has been drawn, with as close an adherence to the original style as was thought consistent with our plan of adapting our narrative to the taste of modern readers. "it is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world that there been ix worthy and the best that ever were. that is to wete thre paynyms, three jewes, and three crysten men. as for the paynyms, they were tofore the incarnacyon of cryst whiche were named, the fyrst hector of troye; the second alysaunder the grete, and the thyrd julyus cezar, emperour of rome, of whome thystoryes ben wel kno and had. and as for the thre jewes whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of our lord, of whome the fyrst was duc josue, whyche brought the chyldren of israhel into the londe of beheste; the second dauyd, kyng of jherusalem, and the thyrd judas machabeus; of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes and actes. and sythe the sayd incarnacyon haue ben the noble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world to the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst the noble arthur, whose noble actes i purpose to wryte in this person book here folowyng. the second was charlemayn, or charles the grete, of whome thystorye is had in many places both in frensshe and englysshe, and the thyrd and last was godefray of boloyn." chapter ii the mythical history of england the illustrious poet, milton, in his "history of england," is the author whom we chiefly follow in this chapter. according to the earliest accounts, albion, a giant, and son of neptune, a contemporary of hercules, ruled over the island, to which he gave his name. presuming to oppose the progress of hercules in his western march, he was slain by him. another story is that histion, the son of japhet, the son of noah, had four sons, francus, romanus, alemannus, and britto, from whom descended the french, roman, german, and british people. rejecting these and other like stories, milton gives more regard to the story of brutus, the trojan, which, he says, is supported by "descents of ancestry long continued, laws and exploits not plainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which on the common belief have wrought no small impression; defended by many, denied utterly by few." the principal authority is geoffrey of monmouth, whose history, written in the twelfth century, purports to be a translation of a history of britain brought over from the opposite shore of france, which, under the name of brittany, was chiefly peopled by natives of britain who, from time to time, emigrated thither, driven from their own country by the inroads of the picts and scots. according to this authority, brutus was the son of silvius, and he of ascanius, the son of aeneas, whose flight from troy and settlement in italy are narrated in "stories of gods and heroes." brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. banished therefor by his kindred, he sought refuge in that part of greece where helenus, with a band of trojan exiles, had become established. but helenus was now dead and the descendants of the trojans were oppressed by pandrasus, the king of the country. brutus, being kindly received among them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regard of all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. in consequence of this the trojans not only began to hope, but secretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. to encourage them, they had the promise of help from assaracus, a noble greek youth, whose mother was a trojan. he had suffered wrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason the more willingly cast in his lost with the trojan exiles. choosing a fit opportunity, brutus with his countrymen withdrew to the woods and hills, as the safest place from which to expostulate, and sent this message to pandrasus: "that the trojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to serve in a foreign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing rather a savage life than a slavish one. if that displeased him, then, with his leave, they would depart to some other country." pandrasus, not expecting so bold a message from the sons of captives, went in pursuit of them, with such forces as he could gather, and met them on the banks of the achelous, where brutus got the advantage, and took the king captive. the result was, that the terms demanded by the trojans were granted; the king gave his daughter imogen in marriage to brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fit provision for them all to depart from the land. the marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all parts got together, the trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hundred and twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. on the third day they arrived at a certain island, which they found destitute of inhabitants, though there were appearances of former habitation, and among the ruins a temple of diana. brutus, here performing sacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle for his guidance, in these lines: "goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep; on thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell what land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek; what certain seat where i may worship thee for aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs." to whom, sleeping before the altar, diana in a vision thus answered: "brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide, beyond the realm of gaul, a land there lies, seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old; now, void, it fits thy people: thither bend thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; there to thy sons another troy shall rise, and kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold" brutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direction, sped his course towards the west, and, arriving at a place on the tyrrhene sea, found there the descendants of certain trojans who, with antenor, came into italy, of whom corineus was the chief. these joined company, and the ships pursued their way till they arrived at the mouth of the river loire, in france, where the expedition landed, with a view to a settlement, but were so rudely assaulted by the inhabitants that they put to sea again, and arrived at a part of the coast of britain, now called devonshire, where brutus felt convinced that he had found the promised end of his voyage, landed his colony, and took possession. the island, not yet britain, but albion, was in a manner desert and inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the giant race whose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed the others. the trojans encountered these and extirpated them, corineus, in particular, signalizing himself by his exploits against them; from whom cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to his lot, and there the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in rocks and caves, till corineus rid the land of them. brutus built his capital city, and called it trojanova (new troy), changed in time to trinovantus, now london; [footnote: "for noble britons sprong from trojans bold, and troynovant was built of old troy's ashes cold" spenser, book iii, canto ix., .] and, having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leaving three sons, locrine, albanact and camber. locrine had the middle part, camber the west, called cambria from him, and albanact albania, now scotland. locrine was married to guendolen, the daughter of corineus, but having seen a fair maid named estrildis, who had been brought captive from germany, he became enamoured of her, and had by her a daughter, whose name was sabra. this matter was kept secret while corineus lived, but after his death locrine divorced guendolen, and made estrildis his queen. guendolen, all in rage, departed to cornwall, where madan, her son, lived, who had been brought up by corineus, his grandfather. gathering an army of her father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to her husband's forces and locrine was slain. guendolen caused her rival, estrildis, with her daughter sabra, to be thrown into the river, from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden's name, which by length of time is now changed into sabrina or severn. milton alludes to this in his address to the rivers,-- "severn swift, guilty of maiden's death";-- and in his "comus" tells the story with a slight variation, thus: "there is a gentle nymph not far from hence, that with moist curb sways the smooth severn stream; sabrina is her name, a virgin pure: whilom she was the daughter of locrine, that had the sceptre from his father, brute, she, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit of her enraged step-dame, guendolen, commended her fair innocence to the flood, that stayed her night with his cross-flowing course the water-nymphs that in the bottom played, held up their pearled wrists and took her in, bearing her straight to aged nereus' hall, who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, and gave her to his daughters to imbathe in nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, and through the porch and inlet of each sense dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived, and underwent a quick, immortal change, made goddess of the river," etc. if our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, in the first place, that mythology is not careful of dates; and next, that, as brutus was the great-grandson of aeneas, it must have been not far from a century subsequent to the trojan war, or about eleven hundred years before the invasion of the island by julius caesar. this long interval is filled with the names of princes whose chief occupation was in warring with one another. some few, whose names remain connected with places, or embalmed in literature, we will mention. bladud bladud built the city of bath, and dedicated the medicinal waters to minerva. he was a man of great invention, and practised the arts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, he fell down upon the temple of apollo, in trinovant, and so died, after twenty years' reign. leir leir, who next reigned, built leicester, and called it after his name. he had no male issue, but only three daughters. when grown old he determined to divide his kingdom among his daughters, and bestow them in marriage. but first, to try which of them loved him best, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and judge of the warmth of their affection by their answers. goneril, the eldest, knowing well her father's weakness, made answer that she loved him "above her soul." "since thou so honorest my declining age," said the old man, "to thee and to thy husband i give the third part of my realm." such good success for a few words soon uttered was ample instruction to regan, the second daughter, what to say. she therefore to the same question replied that "she loved him more than all the world beside;" and so received an equal reward with her sister. but cordelia, the youngest, and hitherto the best beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of a little easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain- dealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of a sincere and virtuous answer, and replied: "father, my love towards you is as my duty bids. they who pretend beyond this flatter." when the old man, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall these words, persisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as to say rather less than more than the truth. then leir, all in a passion, burst forth: "since thou hast not reverenced thy aged father like thy sisters, think not to have any part in my kingdom or what else i have;"--and without delay, giving in marriage his other daughters, goneril to the duke of albany, and regan to the duke of cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them, and goes to reside with his eldest daughter, attended only by a hundred knights. but in a short time his attendants, being complained of as too numerous and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. resenting that affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter; but she, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes part with her sister, and refuses to admit a retinue of more than five. then back he returns to the other, who now will not receive him with more than one attendant. then the remembrance of cordeilla comes to his thoughts, and he takes his journey into france to seek her, with little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had so injured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render,-- confession of his injustice. when cordeilla is informed of his approach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filial tears. and, not willing that her own or others' eyes should see him in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted servants to meet him, and convey him privately to some comfortable abode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his dignity. after which cordeilla, with the king her husband, went in state to meet him, and, after an honorable reception, the king permitted his wife, cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father again upon his throne. they prospered, subdued the wicked sisters and their consorts, and leir obtained the crown and held it three years. cordeilla succeeded him and reigned five years; but the sons of her sisters, after that, rebelled against her, and she lost both her crown and life. shakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of his tragedy of "king lear," varying its details in some respects. the madness of leir, and the ill success of cordeilla's attempt to reinstate her father, are the principal variations, and those in the names will also be noticed. our narrative is drawn from milton's "history;" and thus the reader will perceive that the story of leir has had the distinguished honor of being told by the two acknowledged chiefs of british literature. ferrex and porrex ferrex and porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom after leir. they quarrelled about the supremacy, and porrex expelled his brother, who, obtaining aid from suard, king of the franks, returned and made war upon porrex. ferrex was slain in battle and his forces dispersed. when their mother came to hear of her son's death, who was her favorite, she fell into a great rage, and conceived a mortal hatred against the survivor. she took, therefore, her opportunity when he was asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of her women, tore him in pieces. this horrid story would not be worth relating, were it not for the fact that it has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was written in the english language. it was entitled "gorboduc," but in the second edition "ferrex and porrex," and was the production of thomas sackville, afterwards earl of dorset, and thomas norton, a barrister. its date was . dunwallo molmutius this is the next name of note. molmutius established the molmutine laws, which bestowed the privilege of sanctuary on temples, cities, and the roads leading to them, and gave the same protection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to the labors of the field. shakspeare alludes to him in "cymbeline," act iii., scene : "... molmutius made our laws; who was the first of britain which did put his brows within a golden crown, and called himself a king." brennus and belinus, the sons of molmutius, succeeded him. they quarrelled, and brennus was driven out of the island, and took refuge in gaul, where he met with such favor from the king of the allobroges that he gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on the throne. brennus is the name which the roman historians give to the famous leader of the gauls who took rome in the time of camillus. geoffrey of monmouth claims the glory of the conquest for the british prince, after he had become king of the allobroges. elidure after belinus and brennus there reigned several kings of little note, and then came elidure. arthgallo, his brother, being king, gave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose against him, deposed him, and advanced elidure to the throne. arthgallo fled, and endeavored to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms to reinstate him, but found none. elidure reigned prosperously and wisely. after five years' possession of the kingdom, one day, when hunting, he met in the forest his brother, arthgallo, who had been deposed. after long wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty to which he was reduced, he had returned to britain, with only ten followers, designing to repair to those who had formerly been his friends. elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress, forgetting all animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. he took arthgallo home with him, and concealed him in the palace. after this he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him, induced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent to his abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on the throne. the agreement being ratified, elidure took the crown from his own head, and put it on his brother's head. arthgallo after this reigned ten years, well and wisely, exercisng strict justice towards all men. he died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned with various fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring, so that elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished the course of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving the name of the pious, from the love and admiration of his subjects. wordsworth has taken the story of artegal and elidure for the subject of a poem, which is no. of "poems founded on the affections." lud after elidure, the chronicle names many kings, but none of special note, till we come to lud, who greatly enlarged trinovant, his capital, and surrounded it with a wall. he changed its name, bestowing upon it his own, so that henceforth it was called lud's town, afterwards london. lud was buried by the gate of the city called after him ludgate. he had two sons, but they were not old enough at the time of their father's death to sustain the cares of government, and therefore their uncle, caswallaun, or cassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. he was a brave and magnificent prince, so that his fame reached to distant countries. cassibellaunus about this time it happened (as is found in the roman histories) that julius caesar, having subdued gaul, came to the shore opposite britain. and having resolved to add this island also to his conquests, he prepared ships and transported his army across the sea, to the mouth of the river thames. here he was met by cassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in which nennius, the brother of cassibellaun, engaged in single combat with csesar. after several furious blows given and received, the sword of caesar stuck so fast in the shield of nennius that it could not be pulled out, and the combatants being separated by the intervention of the troops nennius remained possessed of this trophy. at last, after the greater part of the day was spent, the britons poured in so fast that caesar was forced to retire to his camp and fleet. and finding it useless to continue the war any longer at that time, he returned to gaul. shakspeare alludes to cassibellaunus, in "cymbeline": "the famed cassibelan, who was once at point (o giglot fortune!) to master caesar's sword, made lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, and britons strut with courage." kymbelinus, or cymbeline caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate, and compelled the britons to pay tribute. cymbeline, the nephew of the king, was delivered to the romans as a hostage for the faithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to rome by caesar, he was there brought up in the roman arts and accomplishments. being afterwards restored to his country, and placed on the throne, he was attached to the romans, and continued through all his reign at peace with them. his sons, guiderius and arviragus, who made their appearance in shakspeare's play of "cymbeline," succeeded their father, and, refusing to pay tribute to the romans, brought on another invasion. guiderius was slain, but arviragus afterward made terms with the romans, and reigned prosperously many years. armorica the next event of note is the conquest and colonization of armorica, by maximus, a roman general, and conan, lord of miniadoc or denbigh-land, in wales. the name of the country was changed to brittany, or lesser britain; and so completely was it possessed by the british colonists, that the language became assimilated to that spoken in wales, and it is said that to this day the peasantry of the two countries can understand each other when speaking their native language. the romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves in the island, and after the lapse of several generations they became blended with the natives so that no distinction existed between the two races. when at length the roman armies were withdrawn from britain, their departure was a matter of regret to the inhabitants, as it left them without protection against the barbarous tribes, scots, picts, and norwegians, who harassed the country incessantly. this was the state of things when the era of king arthur began. the adventure of albion, the giant, with hercules is alluded to by spenser, "faery queene," book iv., canto xi: "for albion the son of neptune was; who for the proof of his great puissance, out of his albion did on dry foot pass into old gaul that now is cleped france, to fight with hercules, that did advance to vanquish all the world with matchless might: and there his mortal part by great mischance was slain." chapter iii merlin merlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an incubus, one of a class of beings not absolutely wicked, but far from good, who inhabit the regions of the air. merlin's mother was a virtuous young woman, who, on the birth of her son, intrusted him to a priest, who hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved him from sharing the lot of his father, though he retained many marks of his unearthly origin. at this time vortigern reigned in britain. he was a usurper, who had caused the death of his sovereign, moines, and driven the two brothers of the late king, whose names were uther and pendragon, into banishment. vortigern, who lived in constant fear of the return of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect a strong tower for defence. the edifice, when brought by the workmen to a certain height, three times fell to the ground, without any apparent cause. the king consulted his astrologers on this wonderful event, and learned from them that it would be necessary to bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood of a child born without a mortal father. in search of such an infant, vortigern sent his messengers all over the kingdom, and they by accident discovered merlin, whose lineage seemed to point him out as the individual wanted. they took him to the king; but merlin, young as he was, explained to the king the absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by such means, for he told him the true cause of the instability of the tower was its being placed over the den of two immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above them. the king ordered his workmen to dig beneath the tower, and when they had done so they discovered two enormous serpents, the one white as milk the other red as fire. the multitude looked on with amazement, till the serpents, slowly rising from their den, and expanding their enormous folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror, except merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on the conflict. the red dragon was slain, and the white one, gliding through a cleft in the rock, disappeared. these animals typified, as merlin afterwards explained, the invasion of uther and pendragon, the rightful princes, who soon after landed with a great army. vortigern was defeated, and afterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such pains to construct. on the death of vortigern, pendragon ascended the throne. merlin became his chief adviser, and often assisted the king by his magical arts. "merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, had built the king his havens, ships and halls." --vivian. among other endowments, he had the power of transforming himself into any shape he pleased. at one time he appeared as a dwarf, at others as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. this faculty he often employed for the service of the king, and sometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sovereign. merlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the reigns of pendragon, uther, and arthur, and at last disappeared from view, and was no more found among men, through the treachery of his mistress, viviane, the fairy, which happened in this wise. merlin, having become enamoured of the fair viviane, the lady of the lake, was weak enough to impart to her various important secrets of his art, being impelled by fatal destiny, of which he was at the same time fully aware. the lady, however, was not content with his devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but "cast about," the romance tells us, how she might "detain him for evermore," and one day addressed him in these terms: "sir, i would that we should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived by art and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you and i should be there in joy and solace." "my lady," said merlin, "i will do all this." "sir," said she, "i would not have you do it, but you shall teach me, and i will do it, and then it will be more to my mind." "i grant you this," said merlin. then he began to devise, and the damsel put it all in writing. and when he had devised the whole, then had the damsel full great joy, and showed him greater semblance of love than she had ever before made, and they sojourned together a long while. at length it fell out that, as they were going one day hand in hand through the forest of breceliande, they found a bush of white-thorn, which was laden with flowers; and they seated themselves under the shade of this white-thorn, upon the green grass, and merlin laid his head upon the damsel's lap, and fell asleep. then the damsel rose, and made a ring with her wimple round the bush, and round merlin, and began her enchantments, such as he himself had taught her; and nine times she made the ring, and nine times she made the enchantment, and then she went and sat down by him, and placed his head again upon her lap. "and a sleep fell upon merlin more like death, so deep her finger on her lips; then vivian rose, and from her brown-locked head the wimple throws, and takes it in her hand and waves it over the blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping lover. nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round, and made a little plot of magic ground." --matthew arnold. and when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed to him that he was enclosed in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a fair bed. then said he to the dame: "my lady, you have deceived me, unless you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this tower but you alone." she then promised she would be often there, and in this she held her covenant with him. and merlin never went out of that tower where his mistress viviane had enclosed him; but she entered and went out again when she listed. after this event merlin was never more known to hold converse with any mortal but viviane, except on one occasion. arthur, having for some time missed him from his court, sent several of his knights in search of him, and, among the number, sir gawain, who met with a very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest. happening to pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting to salute her, she revenged herself for his incivility by transforming him into a hideous dwarf. he was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he went through the forest of breceliande, when suddenly he heard the voice of one groaning on his right hand; and, looking that way, he could see nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, and through which he could not pass. merlin then addressed him from out the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was imprisoned there. "ah, sir!" he added, "you will never see me more, and that grieves me, but i cannot remedy it; i shall never more speak to you, nor to any other person, save only my mistress. but do thou hasten to king arthur, and charge him from me to undertake, without delay, the quest of the sacred graal. the knight is already born, and has received knighthood at his hands, who is destined to accomplish this quest." and after this he comforted gawain under his transformation, assuring him that he should speedily be disenchanted; and he predicted to him that he should find the king at carduel, in wales, on his return, and that all the other knights who had been on like quest would arrive there the same day as himself. and all this came to pass as merlin had said. merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but it is chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to his death, or magical disappearance. in the romantic poems of italy, and in spenser, merlin is chiefly represented as a magical artist. spenser represents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shield and other armor of prince arthur ("faery queene," book i., canto vii.), and of a mirror, in which a damsel viewed her lover's shade. the fountain of love, in the "orlando innamorata," is described as his work; and in the poem of "ariosto" we are told of a hall adorned with prophetic paintings, which demons had executed in a single night, under the direction of merlin. the following legend is from spenser's "faery queene," book iii., canto iii.: caer-merdin, or caermarthen (in wales), merlin's tower, and the imprisoned fiends. "forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge and base attire, that none might them bewray, to maridunum, that is now by chaunge of name caer-merdin called, they took their way: there the wise merlin whylome wont (they say) to make his wonne, low underneath the ground in a deep delve, far from the view of day, that of no living wight he mote be found, whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round. "and if thou ever happen that same way to travel, go to see that dreadful place; it is a hideous hollow cave (they say) under a rock that lies a little space from the swift barry, tombling down apace amongst the woody hills of dynevor; but dare not thou, i charge, in any case, to enter into that same baleful bower, for fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour. "but standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, and there such ghastly noise of iron chains and brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, which thousand sprites with long enduring pains do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains; and oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, when too huge toil and labor them constrains; and oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds from under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. "the cause some say is this. a little while before that merlin died, he did intend a brazen wall in compas to compile about caermerdin, and did it commend unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; during which work the lady of the lake, whom long he loved, for him in haste did send; who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake, them bound till his return their labor not to slack. "in the mean time, through that false lady's train, he was surprised, and buried under beare, he ever to his work returned again; nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, so greatly his commandement they fear; but there do toil and travail day and night, until that brazen wall they up do rear. for merlin had in magic more insight than ever him before or after living wight." [footnote: buried under beare. buried under something which enclosed him like a coffin or bier.] chapter iv arthur we shall begin our history of king arthur by giving those particulars of his life which appear to rest on historical evidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning him which form the earliest portion of british literature. arthur was a prince of the tribe of britons called silures, whose country was south wales, the son of uther, named pendragon, a title given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the many kings of britain. he appears to have commenced his martial career about the year , and was raised to the pendragonship about ten years later. he is said to have gained twelve victories over the saxons. the most important of them was that of badon, by some supposed to be bath, by others berkshire. this was the last of his battles with the saxons, and checked their progress so effectually, that arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew modred, twenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of camlan, in cornwall, in . modred was slain, and arthur, mortally wounded, was conveyed by sea to glastonbury, where he died, and was buried. tradition preserved the memory of the place of his interment within the abbey, as we are told by giraldus cambrensis, who was present when the grave was opened by command of henry ii. about , and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude roman letters, "here lies buried the famous king arthur, in the island avalonia." this story has been elegantly versified by warton. a popular traditional belief was long entertained among the britons, that arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of his wounds in fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge his countrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of britain. in warton's "ode" a bard relates to king henry the traditional story of arthur's death, and closes with these lines. "yet in vain a paynim foe armed with fate the mighty blow: for when he fell, the elfin queen, all in secret and unseen, o'er the fainting hero threw her mantle of ambrosial blue, and bade her spirits bear him far, in merlin's agate-axled car, to her green isle's enamelled steep, far in the navel of the deep. o'er his wounds she sprinkled dew from flowers that in arabia grew. there he reigns a mighty king, thence to britain shall return, if right prophetic rolls i learn, borne on victory's spreading plume, his ancient sceptre to resume, his knightly table to restore, and brave the tournaments of yore." after this narration another bard came forward who recited a different story: "when arthur bowed his haughty crest, no princess veiled in azure vest snatched him, by merlin's powerful spell, in groves of golden bliss to dwell; but when he fell, with winged speed, his champions, on a milk-white steed, from the battle's hurricane, bore him to joseph's towered fane, in the fair vale of avalon; there, with chanted orison and the long blaze of tapers clear, the stoled fathers met the bier; through the dim aisles, in order dread of martial woe, the chief they led, and deep entombed in holy ground, before the altar's solemn bound." [footnote: glastonbury abbey, said to be founded by joseph of arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of avalonia. tennyson, in his "palace of art," alludes to the legend of arthur's rescue by the faery queen, thus: "or mythic uther's deeply wounded son, in some fair space of sloping greens, lay dozing in the vale of avalon, and watched by weeping queens."] it must not be concealed that the very existence of arthur has been denied by some. milton says of him: "as to arthur, more renowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in britain, hath been doubted heretofore, and may again, with good reason." modern critics, however, admit that there was a prince of this name, and find proof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of the welsh bards. but the arthur of romance, according to mr. owen, a welsh scholar and antiquarian, is a mythological person. "arthur," he says, "is the great bear, as the name literally implies (arctos, arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so near the pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space, is the origin of the famous round table." king arthur constans, king of britain, had three sons, moines, ambrosius, otherwise called uther, and pendragon. moines, soon after his accession to the crown, was vanquished by the saxons, in consequence of the treachery of his seneschal, vortigern, and growing unpopular, through misfortune, he was killed by his subjects, and the traitor vortigern chosen in his place. vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by uther and pendragon, the surviving brothers of moines, and pendragon ascended the throne. this prince had great confidence in the wisdom of merlin, and made him his chief adviser. about this time a dreadful war arose between the saxons and britons. merlin obliged the royal brothers to swear fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of them must fall in the first battle. the saxons were routed, and pendragon, being slain, was succeeded by uther, who now assumed in addition to his own name the appellation of pendragon. merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. at the request of uther he transported by magic art enormous stones from ireland, to form the sepulchre of pendragon. these stones constitute the monument now called stonehenge, on salisbury plain. merlin next proceeded to carlisle to prepare the round table, at which he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of the country. the companions admitted to this high order were bound by oath to assist each other at the hazard of their own lives, to attempt singly the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary, a life of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first summons, and never to retire from battle till they had defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and separated the combatants. soon after this institution, the king invited all his barons to the celebration of a great festival, which he proposed holding annually at carlisle. as the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to bring their ladies along with them, the beautiful igerne accompanied her husband, gorlois, duke of tintadel, to one of these anniversaries. the king became deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed his passion; but igerne repelled his advances, and revealed his solicitations to her husband. on hearing this, the duke instantly removed from court with igerne, and without taking leave of uther. the king complained to his council of this want of duty, and they decided that the duke should be summoned to court, and, if refractory, should be treated as a rebel. as he refused to obey the citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassal and besieged him in the strong castle of tintadel. merlin transformed the king into the likeness of gorlois, and enabled him to have many stolen interviews with igerne. at length the duke was killed in battle and the king espoused igerne. from this union sprang arthur, who succeeded his father, uther, upon the throne. arthur chosen king arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, was elected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. it was not done without opposition, for there were many ambitious competitors. "for while he linger'd there a doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts of those great lords and barons of his realm flash'd forth and into war: for most of these made head against him, crying, 'who is he that he should rule us? who hath proven him king uther's son? for lo! we look at him, and find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice, are like to those of uther whom we knew." --coming of arthur. but bishop brice, a person of great sanctity, on christmas eve addressed the assembly, and represented that it would well become them, at that solemn season, to put up their prayers for some token which should manifest the intentions of providence respecting their future sovereign. this was done, and with such success, that the service was scarcely ended when a miraculous stone was discovered before the church door, and in the stone was firmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven on its hilt: "i am hight escalibore, unto a king fair tresore." bishop brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up their thanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that whoever should be able to draw out the sword from the stone, should be acknowledged as sovereign of the britons; and his proposal was decreed by general acclamation. the tributary kings of uther, and the most famous knights, successively put their strength to the proof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their efforts. it stood till candlemas; it stood till easter, and till pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usually assembled for the annual tournament. arthur, who was at that time serving in the capacity of squire to his foster-brother, sir kay, attended his master to the lists. sir kay fought with great valor and success, but had the misfortune to break his sword, and sent arthur to his mother for a new one. arthur hastened home, but did not find the lady; but having observed near the church a sword, sticking in a stone, he galloped to the place, drew out the sword with great ease, and delivered it to his master. sir kay would willingly have assumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession of the sword, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword was replaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw it, and it would yield a second time to no hand but arthur's. thus decisively pointed out by heaven as their king, arthur was by general consent proclaimed as such, and an early day appointed for his solemn coronation. immediately after his election to the crown, arthur found himself opposed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast army were actually encamped in the forest of rockingham. by merlin's advice arthur sent an embassy to brittany, to solicit the aid of king ban and king bohort, two of the best knights in the world. they accepted the call, and with a powerful army crossed the sea, landing at portsmouth, where they were received with great rejoicing. the rebel kings were still superior in numbers; but merlin, by a powerful enchantment, caused all their tents to fall down at once, and in the confusion arthur with his allies fell upon them and totally routed them. after defeating the rebels, arthur took the field against the saxons. as they were too strong for him unaided, he sent an embassy to armorica, beseeching the assistance of hoel, who soon after brought over an army to his aid. the two kings joined their forces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sides prepared for a decisive engagement. "arthur himself," as geoffrey of monmouth relates, "dressed in a breastplate worthy of so great a king, places on his head a golden helmet engraved with the semblance of a dragon. over his shoulders he throws his shield called priwen, on which a picture of the holy virgin constantly recalled her to his memory. girt with caliburn, a most excellent sword, and fabricated in the isle of avalon, he graces his right hand with the lance named ron. this was a long and broad spear, well contrived for slaughter." after a severe conflict, arthur, calling on the name of the virgin, rushes into the midst of his enemies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formidable caliburn, and puts the rest to flight. hoel, being detained by sickness, took no part in this battle. this is called the victory of mount badon, and, however disguised by fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event. the feats performed by arthur at the battle of badon mount are thus celebrated in drayton's verse: "they sung how he himself at badon bore, that day, when at the glorious goal his british sceptre lay; two daies together how the battel stronglie stood; pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood, three hundred saxons slew with his owne valiant hand." --song iv. guenever merlin had planned for arthur a marriage with the daughter of king laodegan of carmalide. by his advice arthur paid a visit to the court of that sovereign, attended only by merlin and by thirty- nine knights whom the magician had selected for that service. on their arrival they found laodegan and his peers sitting in council, endeavoring, but with small prospect of success, to devise means of resisting the impending attack of ryence, king of ireland, who, with fifteen tributary kings and an almost innumerable army, had nearly surrounded the city. merlin, who acted as leader of the band of british knights, announced them as strangers, who came to offer the king their services in his wars; but under the express condition that they should be at liberty to conceal their names and quality until they should think proper to divulge them. these terms were thought very strange, but were thankfully accepted, and the strangers, after taking the usual oath to the king, retired to the lodging which merlin had prepared for them. a few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into which they had entered with king laodegan, suddenly issued from their camp and made an attempt to surprise the city. cleodalis, the king's general, assembled the royal forces with all possible despatch. arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and merlin appeared at their head, bearing a standard on which was emblazoned a terrific dragon. merlin advanced to the gate, and commanded the porter to open it, which the porter refused to do, without the king's order. merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all its appurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc., and directed his troops to pass through, after which he replaced it in perfect order. he then set spurs to his horse and dashed, at the head of his little troop, into a body of two thousand pagans. the disparity of numbers being so enormous, merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so as to prevent their seeing the small number of their assailants; notwithstanding which the british knights were hard pressed. but the people of the city, who saw from the walls this unequal contest, were ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers to their fate, so they opened the gate and sallied forth. the numbers were now more nearly equal, and merlin revoked his spell, so that the two armies encountered on fair terms. where arthur, ban, bohort, and the rest fought the king's army had the advantage; but in another part of the field the king himself was surrounded and carried off by the enemy. the sad sight was seen by guenever, the fair daughter of the king, who stood on the city wall and looked at the battle. she was in dreadful distress, tore her hair, and swooned away. but merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field, suddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle, intercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away the king, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in pieces or dispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. in the fight arthur encountered caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and the fair guenever, who had already began to feel a strong interest in the handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of the contest. but arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the shoulder of the monster, cut through his neck so that his head hung over on one side, and in this condition his horse carried him about the field, to the great horror and dismay of the pagans. guenever could not refrain from expressing aloud her wish that the gentle knight, who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined to become her husband, and the wish was echoed by her attendants. the enemy soon turned their backs and fled with precipitation, closely pursued by laodegan and his allies. after the battle arthur was disarmed and conducted to the bath by the princess guenever, while his friends were attended by the other ladies of the court. after the bath the knights were conducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they were diligently served by the same fair attendants. laodegan, more and more anxious to know the name and quality of his generous deliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish that the chief of his guests might be captivated by the charms of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely roused from his reverie by the banters of his courtiers. arthur, having had an opportunity of explaining to guenever his great esteem for her merit, was in the joy of his heart, and was still further delighted by hearing from merlin the late exploits of gawain at london, by means of which his immediate return to his dominions was rendered unnecessary, and he was left at liberty to protract his stay at the court of laodegan. every day contributed to increase the admiration of the whole court for the gallant strangers, and the passion of guenever for their chief; and when at last merlin announced to the king that the object of the visit of the party was to procure a bride for their leader, laodegan at once presented guenever to arthur, telling him that, whatever might be his rank, his merit was sufficient to entitle him to the possession of the heiress of carmalide. "and could he find a woman in her womanhood as great as he was in his manhood-- the twain together might change the world." --guinevere. arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and merlin then proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son-in-law; upon which laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to do homage to their lawful sovereign, the successor of uther pendragon. the fair guenever was then solemnly betrothed to arthur, and a magnificent festival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days. at the end of that time, the enemy appearing again with renewed force, it became necessary to resume military operations. [footnote: guenever, the name of arthur's queen, also written genievre and geneura, is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. it is to her adventures, and those of her true knight, sir launcelot, that dante alludes in the beautiful episode of francesca di rimini.] we must now relate what took place at and near london, while arthur was absent from his capital. at this very time a band of young heroes were on their way to arthur's court, for the purpose of receiving knighthood from him. they were gawain and his three brothers, nephews of arthur, sons of king lot, and galachin, another nephew, son of king nanters. king lot had been one of the rebel chiefs whom arthur had defeated, but he now hoped by means of the young men to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. he equipped his sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence, giving them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls and barons, all mounted on the best horses, with complete suits of choice armor. they numbered in all seven hundred, but only nine had yet received the order of knighthood; the rest were candidates for that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with the enemy. gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful strength; but what was most remarkable about him was that his strength was greater at certain hours of the day than at others. from nine o'clock till noon his strength was doubled, and so it was from three to evensong; for the rest of the time it was less remarkable, though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men. after a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity of london, where they expected to find arthur and his court, and very unexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to the enemy, consisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded with provisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had been collecting spoil from all the country round. a single charge from gawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to disperse the escort and recover the convoy, which was instantly despatched to london. but before long a body of seven thousand fresh soldiers advanced to the attack of the five princes and their little army. gawain, singling out a chief named choas, of gigantic size, began the battle by splitting him from the crown of the head to the breast. galachin encountered king sanagran, who was also very huge, and cut off his head. agrivain and gahariet also performed prodigies of valor. thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body of the citizens advancing from london, where the convoy which had been recovered by gawain had arrived, and informed the mayor and citizens of the danger of their deliverer. the arrival of the londoners soon decided the contest. the enemy fled in all directions, and gawain and his friends, escorted by the grateful citizens, entered london, and were received with acclamations. chapter v arthur (continued) after the great victory of mount badon, by which the saxons were for the time effectually put down, arthur turned his arms against the scots and picts, whom he routed at lake lomond, and compelled to sue for mercy. he then went to york to keep his christmas, and employed himself in restoring the christian churches which the pagans had rifled and overthrown. the following summer he conquered ireland, and then made a voyage with his fleet to iceland, which he also subdued. the kings of gothland and of the orkneys came voluntarily and made their submission, promising to pay tribute. then he returned to britain, where, having established the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace. during this time he invited over to him all persons whatsoever that were famous for valor in foreign nations, and augmented the number of his domestics, and introduced such politeness into his court as people of the remotest countries thought worthy of their imitation. so that there was not a nobleman who thought himself of any consideration unless his clothes and arms were made in the same fashion as those of arthur's knights. finding himself so powerful at home, arthur began to form designs for extending his power abroad. so, having prepared his fleet, he first attempted norway, that he might procure the crown of it for lot, his sister's husband. arthur landed in norway, fought a great battle with the king of that country, defeated him, and pursued the victory till he had reduced the whole country under his dominion, and established lot upon the throne. then arthur made a voyage to gaul and laid siege to the city of paris. gaul was at that time a roman province, and governed by flollo, the tribune. when the siege of paris had continued a month, and the people began to suffer from famine, flollo challenged arthur to single combat, proposing to decide the conquest of the province in that way. arthur gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary in the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the city to him. after the victory arthur divided his army into two parts, one of which he committed to the conduct of hoel, whom he ordered to march into aquitaine, while he with the other part should endeavor to subdue the other provinces. at the end of nine years, in which time all the parts of gaul were entirely reduced, arthur returned to paris, where he kept his court, and, calling an assembly of the clergy and people, established peace and the just administration of the laws in that kingdom. then he bestowed normandy upon bedver, his butler, and the province of andegavia upon kay, his steward, [footnote: this name, in the french romances, is spelled queux, which means head cook. this would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. he is the chief, if not the only, comic character among the heroes of arthur's court. he is the seneschal or steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. in the romances, his general character is a compound of valor and buffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worst of the battle. he is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, by which he often gets into trouble. yet arthur seems to have an attachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally wrong.] and several other provinces upon his great men that attended him. and, having settled the peace of the cities and countries, he returned back in the beginning of spring to britain. upon the approach of the feast of pentecost, arthur, the better to demonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and for the more solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling the minds of the princes that were now subject to him, resolved during that season to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon his head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under his subjection to the solemnity. and he pitched upon caerleon, the city of legions, as the proper place for his purpose. for, besides its great wealth above the other cities, its situation upon the river usk, near the severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for so great a solemnity. for on one side it was washed by that noble river, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond the seas might have the convenience of sailing up to it. on the other side the beauty of the meadows and groves, and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made it even rival the grandeur of rome. it was also famous for two churches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of virgins, who devoted themselves wholly to the service of god, and the other maintained a convent of priests. besides, there was a college of two hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars, and gave arthur true predictions of the events that would happen. in this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were preparations made for the ensuing festival. [footnote: several cities are allotted to king arthur by the romance-writers. the principal are caerleon, camelot, and carlisle. caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of the legions, during the dominion of the romans. it is called by latin writers urbs legionum, the city of legions. the former word being rendered into welsh by caer, meaning city, and the latter contracted into lleon. the river usk retains its name in modern geography, and there is a town or city of caerleon upon it, though the city of cardiff is thought to be the scene of arthur's court. chester also bears in welsh the name of caerleon; for chester, derived from castra, latin for camp, is the designation of military headquarters. camelot is thought to be winchester. shalott is guilford. hamo's port is southampton. carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the scottish border. but this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, military stations.] ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to invite to court the princes both of gaul and of the adjacent islands. accordingly there came augusel, king of albania, now scotland, cadwallo, king of venedotia, now north wales, sater, king of demetia, now south wales; also the archbishops of the metropolitan sees, london and york, and dubricius, bishop of caerleon, the city of legions. this prelate, who was primate of britain, was so eminent for his piety that he could cure any sick person by his prayers. there were also the counts of the principal cities, and many other worthies of no less dignity. from the adjacent islands came guillamurius, king of ireland, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, malvasius, king of iceland, lot, king of norway, bedver, the butler, duke of normandy, kay, the sewer, duke of andegavia; also the twelve peers of gaul, and hoel, duke of the armorican britons, with his nobility, who came with such a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture as it is difficult to describe. besides these there remained no prince of any consideration on this side of spain who came not upon this invitation. and no wonder, when arthur's munificence, which was celebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by all people. when all were assembled upon the day of the solemnity the archbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to place the crown upon the king's head. then dubricius, inasmuch as the court was held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate the office. as soon as the king was invested with his royal habiliments he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitan church, having four kings, viz., of albania, cornwall, demetia, and venedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. on another part was the queen, dressed out in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to the church of virgins; the four queens, also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing before her four white doves, according to ancient custom. when the whole procession was ended so transporting was the harmony of the musical instruments and voices, whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that the knights who attended were in doubt which to prefer, and therefore crowded from the one to the other by turns, and were far from being tired of the solemnity, though the whole day had been spent in it. at last, when divine service was over at both churches, the king and queen put off their crowns, and, putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the banquet. when they had all taken their seats according to precedence, kay, the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a thousand young noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served up the dishes. from another part bedver, the butler, was followed by the same number of attendants, who waited with all kinds of cups and drinking-vessels. and there was food and drink in abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served in the best manner. for at that time britain had arrived at such a pitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it far surpassed all other kingdoms. as soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields without the city to divert themselves with various sports, such as shooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, casting of heavy stones and rocks, playing at dice, and the like, and all these inoffensively, and without quarrelling. in this manner were three days spent, and after that they separated, and the kings and noblemen departed to their several homes. after this arthur reigned five years in peace. then came ambassadors from lucius tiberius, procurator under leo, emperor of rome, demanding tribute. but arthur refused to pay tribute, and prepared for war. as soon as the necessary dispositions were made he committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew modred and to queen guenever, and marched with his army to hamo's port, where the wind stood fair for him. the army crossed over in safety, and landed at the mouth of the river barba. and there they pitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of the islands. as soon as all the forces were arrived arthur marched forward to augustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the river alba. here repeated battles were fought, in all which the britons, under their valiant leaders, hoel, duke of armorica, and gawain, nephew to arthur, had the advantage. at length lucius tiberius determined to retreat, and wait for the emperor leo to join him with fresh troops. but arthur, anticipating this event, took possession of a certain valley, and closed up the way of retreat to lucius, compelling him to fight a decisive battle, in which arthur lost some of the bravest of his knights and most faithful followers. but on the other hand lucius tiberius was slain, and his army totally defeated. the fugitives dispersed over the country, some to the by-ways and woods, some to cities and towns, and all other places where they could hope for safety. arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, and employed his time in restoring order and settling the government. he then returned into england, and celebrated his victories with great splendor. then the king stablished all his knights, and to them that were not rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain of death. also that no man take battle in a wrongful quarrel, for no law, nor for any world's goods. unto this were all the knights sworn of the table round, both old and young. and at every year were they sworn at the high feast of pentecost. king arthur slays the giant of st. michael's mount while the army was encamped in brittany, awaiting the arrival of the kings, there came a countryman to arthur, and told him that a giant, whose cave was on a neighboring mountain, called st. michael's mount, had for a long time been accustomed to carry off the children of the peasants to devour them. "and now he hath taken the duchess of brittany, as she rode with her attendants, and hath carried her away in spite of all they could do." "now, fellow," said king arthur, "canst thou bring me there where this giant haunteth?" "yea, sure," said the good man; "lo, yonder where thou seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure than i suppose is in all france beside." then the king called to him sir bedver and sir kay, and commanded them to make ready horse and harness for himself and them; for after evening he would ride on pilgrimage to st. michael's mount. so they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the foot of the mount. and there the king commanded them to tarry, for he would himself go up into that mount. so he ascended the hill till he came to a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sitting by a new-made grave, making great sorrow. then king arthur saluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation; to whom she answered: "sir knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. for ye cannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. he hath murdered the duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairest of all the world, wife to sir hoel, duke of brittany." "dame," said the king, "i come from the noble conqueror, king arthur, to treat with that tyrant." "fie on such treaties," said she; "he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else." "well," said arthur, "i will accomplish my message for all your fearful words." so he went forth by the crest of the hill, and saw where the giant sat at supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, and baking his broad limbs at the fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lot it was to be devoured in their turn. when king arthur beheld that, he had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled for sorrow. then he hailed the giant, saying, "he that all the world ruleth give thee short life and shameful death. why hast thou murdered this duchess? therefore come forth, for this day thou shalt die by my hand." then the giant started up, and took a great club, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal; and then the king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made a fearful wound. then the giant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. then the three maidens kneeled down and prayed for help and comfort for arthur. and arthur weltered and wrenched, so that he was one while under, and another time above. and so weltering and wallowing they rolled down the hill, and ever as they weltered arthur smote him with his dagger; and it fortuned they came to the place where the two knights were. and when they saw the king fast in the giant's arms they came and loosed him. then the king commanded sir kay to smite off the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, and fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and behold it. this was done, and anon it was known through all the country, wherefor the people came and thanked the king. and he said, "give your thanks to god; and take ye the giant's spoil and divide it among you." and king arthur caused a church to be builded on that hill, in honor of st. michael. king arthur gets a sword from the lady of the lake one day king arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware of three churls chasing merlin, to have slain him. and the king rode unto them and bade them, "flee, churls!" then were they afraid when they saw a knight, and fled. "o merlin," said arthur, "here hadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had i not been by." "nay," said merlin, "not so, for i could save myself if i would; but thou art more near thy death than i am." so, as they went thus talking, king arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as if to guard the pass. "sir knight," said arthur, "for what cause abidest thou here?" then the knight said, "there may no knight ride this way unless he just with me, for such is the custom of the pass." "i will amend that custom," said the king. then they ran together, and they met so hard that their spears were shivered. then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle, with many great strokes. but at length the sword of the knight smote king arthur's sword in two pieces. then said the knight unto arthur, "thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die." "as for death," said king arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, i will not." then he leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him down; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought arthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him. then said merlin, "knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a man of more worship than thou art aware of." "why, who is he?" said the knight. "it is king arthur." then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and therewith merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. then merlin took up king arthur, and set him on his horse. "alas!" said arthur, "what hast thou done, merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts?" "care ye not," said merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. he is only asleep, and will wake in three hours." then the king and he departed, and went till they came to a hermit, that was a good man and a great leech. so the hermit searched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that he might ride and go. so they departed, and as they rode arthur said, "i have no sword." "no matter," said merlin; "hereby is a sword that shall be yours." so they rode till they came to a lake, which was a fair water and broad. and in the midst of the lake arthur was aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [footnote: samite, a sort of silk stuff.] that held a fair sword in the hand. "lo!" said merlin, "yonder is that sword that i spake of. it belongeth to the lady of the lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it; but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it." so sir arthur and merlin alighted from their horses, and went into a boat. and when they came to the sword that the hand held sir arthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm and the hand went under the water. then they returned unto the land and rode forth. and sir arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well. so they rode unto caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. and when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person so alone. but all men of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did. chapter vi sir gawain sir gawain was nephew to king arthur, by his sister morgana, married to lot, king of orkney, who was by arthur made king of norway. sir gawain was one of the most famous knights of the round table, and is characterized by the romancers as the sage and courteous gawain. to this chaucer alludes in his "squiere's tale," where the strange knight "salueth" all the court "with so high reverence and observance, as well in speeche as in countenance, that gawain, with his olde curtesie, though he were come agen out of faerie, ne coude him not amenden with a word." gawain's brothers were agrivain, gahariet, and gareth. sir gawain's marriage once upon a time king arthur held his court in merry carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. it was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. king arthur commanded to bring him his sword, excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. but the castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. king arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head grew faint. he was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he should return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the question, "what thing is it which women most desire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his lands. king arthur accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time appointed. during the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women most desire. some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some, mirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. but in the diversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. the year was well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in seemly sort, made no answer. "what wight art thou," the lady said, "that will not speak to me? it may chance that i may resolve thy doubts, though i be not fair of aspect." "if thou wilt do so," said king arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee." "swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and arthur swore it. then the lady told him the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be her husband. king arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one by one all the answers which he had received from his various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true one. "now yield thee, arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me." then king arthur said: "yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, i pray thee hold thy hand, and give me leave to speak once more, in rescue of my land. this morn as i came over a moor, i saw a lady set, between an oak and a green holly, all clad in red scarlett. she says all women would have their will, this is their chief desire; now yield, as thou art a baron true, that i have paid my hire." "it was my sister that told thee this," the churlish baron exclaimed. "vengeance light on her! i will some time or other do her as ill a turn." king arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for he remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to--give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. he told his grief to sir gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "be not sad, my lord, for i will marry the loathly lady." king arthur replied: "now nay, now nay, good sir gawaine, my sister's son ye be; the loathly lady's all too grim, and all too foule for thee." but gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that gawain should be his ransom. so one day the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to the court. sir gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. chaucer tells us: "... there was no joye ne feste at alle; there n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe, for prively he wed her on the morwe, and all day after hid him as an owle, so wo was him his wife loked so foule!" [footnote: n'as is not was, contracted; in modern phrase, there was not. mochel sorwe is much sorrow; morwe is morrow.] when night came, and they were alone together, sir gawain could not conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed so heavily, and turned away his face. he candidly confessed it was on account of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low degree. the lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent arguments to all his objections. she showed him that with age is discretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all true gentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon the character of the individual. sir gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemly aspect that had so distressed him. she then told him that the form she had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed upon her by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear it until two things should happen: one, that she should obtain some young and gallant knight to be her husband. this having been done, one-half of the charm was removed. she was now at liberty to wear her true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether he would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse. sir gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when he alone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to others. but she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be to her to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies by day. sir gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. this alone was wanting to dissolve the charm. the lovely lady now with joy assured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, so would she remain by night as well as by day. "sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek, her eyen were black as sloe, the ripening cherrye swelled her lippe, and all her neck was snow. sir gawain kist that ladye faire lying upon the sheete, and swore, as he was a true knight, the spice was never so swete." the dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also released her brother, the "grim baron," for he too had been implicated in it. he ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and generous knight as any at arthur's court. chapter vii caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm caradoc was the son of ysenne, the beautiful niece of arthur. he was ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the following manner: when the youth was of proper years to receive the honors of knighthood, king arthur held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. on this occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him. his proposal was this--to lay his neck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experiment. sir kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. and when the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till caradoc, growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the round table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "do you do this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger. "no," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." the stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he will return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. when the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctual to their engagement. great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and the whole court, in behalf of caradoc, but the stranger was inflexible. the young knight laid his head upon the block, and more than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. at last the stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the enchanter eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having proved his courage and fidelity to his word. but the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her pique against caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or alleviate the torments which caradoc endured. caradoc was betrothed to guimier, sister to his bosom friend, cador, and daughter to the king of cornwall. as soon as they were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for nantes, where caradoc's castle was, that guimier might attend upon him. when caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that of joy and love. but soon he began to fear that the sight of his emaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust guimier; and this apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly from nantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. he was sought far and near by the knights of arthur's court, and cador made a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have found him. after long wandering, cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. all other means of relief having already been tried in vain, cador at last prevailed on the enchanter eliaures to disclose the only method which could avail for his rescue. a maiden must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine, and the other with milk. caradoc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and inviting food. the vessels were to be placed three feet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. a knight was to cut him in two. if he failed in his blow, caradoc would indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. the sequel may be easily foreseen. guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous adventure, and cador, with a lucky blow, killed the serpent. the arm in which caradoc had suffered so long recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he was called caradoc briefbras, caradoc of the shrunken arm. caradoc and guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad of the "boy and the mantle," which follows: "the boy and the mantle "in carlisle dwelt king arthur, a prince of passing might, and there maintained his table round, beset with many a knight. "and there he kept his christmas, with mirth and princely cheer, when lo! a strange and cunning boy before him did appear. "a kirtle and a mantle this boy had him upon, with brooches, rings, and ouches, full daintily bedone. "he had a sash of silk about his middle meet; and thus with seemly curtesie he did king arthur greet: "'god speed thee, brave king arthur. thus feasting in thy bower, and guenever, thy goodly queen, that fair and peerless flower. "'ye gallant lords and lordlings, i wish you all take heed, lest what ye deem a blooming rose should prove a cankered weed.' "then straightway from his bosom a little wand he drew; and with it eke a mantle, of wondrous shape and hue. "'now have thou here, king arthur, have this here of me, and give unto thy comely queen, all shapen as you see. "'no wife it shall become, that once hath been to blame.' then every knight in arthur's court sly glanced at his dame. "and first came lady guenever, the mantle she must try. this dame she was new-fangled, [ ] and of a roving eye. "when she had taken the mantle, and all with it was clad, from top to toe it shivered down, as though with shears beshred. "one while it was too long, another while too short, and wrinkled on her shoulders, in most unseemly sort. "now green, now red it seemed, then all of sable hue; 'beshrew me,' quoth king arthur, 'i think thou be'st not true!' "down she threw the mantle, no longer would she stay; but, storming like a fury, to her chamber flung away. "she cursed the rascal weaver, that had the mantle wrought; and doubly cursed the froward imp who thither had it brought. i had rather live in deserts, beneath the greenwood tree, than here, base king, among thy grooms the sport of them and thee.' "sir kay called forth his lady, and bade her to come near: 'yet dame, if thou be guilty, i pray thee now forbear.' "this lady, pertly giggling, with forward step came on, and boldly to the little boy with fearless face is gone. "when she had taken the mantle, with purpose for to wear, it shrunk up to her shoulder, and left her back all bare. "then every merry knight, that was in arthur's court, gibed and laughed and flouted, to see that pleasant sport. "down she threw the mantle, no longer bold or gay, but, with a face all pale and wan to her chamber slunk away. "then forth came an old knight a pattering o'er his creed, and proffered to the little boy five nobles to his meed: "'and all the time of christmas plum-porridge shall be thine, if thou wilt let my lady fair within the mantle shine.' "a saint his lady seemed, with step demure and slow, and gravely to the mantle with mincing face doth go. "when she the same had taken that was so fine and thin, it shrivelled all about her, and showed her dainty skin. "ah! little did her mincing, or his long prayers bestead; she had no more hung on her than a tassel and a thread. "down she threw the mantle, with terror and dismay, and with a face of scarlet to her chamber hied away. "sir cradock called his lady, and bade her to come near: 'come win this mantle, lady, and do me credit here: "'come win this mantle, lady, for now it shall be thine, if thou hast never done amiss, since first i made thee mine.' "the lady, gently blushing, with modest grace came on; and now to try the wondrous charm courageously is gone. "when she had ta'en the mantle, and put it on her back, about the hem it seemed to wrinkle and to crack. "'lie still,' she cried, 'o mantle! and shame me not for naught; i'll freely own whate'er amiss or blameful i have wrought. "'once i kissed sir cradock beneath the greenwood tree; once i kissed sir cradock's mouth, before he married me.' "when she had thus her shriven, and her worst fault had told, the mantle soon became her, right comely as it should. "most rich and fair of color, like gold it glittering shone, and much the knights in arthur's court admired her every one." [footnote : new-fangled--fond of novelty.] the ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking horn, in both of which the result was equally favorable with the first to sir cradock and his lady. it then concludes as follows: "thus boar's head, horn, and mantle were this fair couple's meed; and all such constant lovers, god send them well to speed" --percy's reliques. chapter viii launcelot of the lake king ban, of brittany, the faithful ally of arthur was attacked by his enemy claudas, and after a long war saw himself reduced to the possession of a single fortress, where he was besieged by his enemy. in this extremity he determined to solicit the assistance of arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife helen and his infant son launcelot, leaving his castle in the hands of his seneschal, who immediately surrendered the place to claudas. the flames of his burning citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunate monarch during his flight and he expired with grief. the wretched helen, leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive the last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived the little launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach of the queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. this nymph was viviane, mistress of the enchanter merlin, better known by the name of the lady of the lake. launcelot received his appellation from having been educated at the court of this enchantress, whose palace was situated in the midst, not of a real, but, like the appearance which deceives the african traveller, of an imaginary lake, whose deluding resemblance served as a barrier to her residence. here she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of a numerous retinue, and a splendid court of knights and damsels. the queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where she was joined by the widow of bohort, for this good king had died of grief on hearing of the death of his brother ban. his two sons, lionel and bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrived in the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake, where, having resumed their natural form, they were educated along with their cousin launcelot. the fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen, conveyed him to the court of arthur for the purpose of demanding his admission to the honor of knighthood; and at the first appearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his person, which were not inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made an instantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of guenever, while her charms inspired him with an equally ardent and constant passion. the mutual attachment of these lovers exerted, from that time forth, an influence over the whole history of arthur. for the sake of guenever, launcelot achieved the conquest of northumberland, defeated gallehaut, king of the marches, who afterwards became his most faithful friend and ally, exposed himself in numberless encounters, and brought hosts of prisoners to the feet of his sovereign. sir launcelot after king arthur was come from rome into england all the knights of the table round resorted unto him and made him many justs and tournaments. and in especial sir launcelot of the lake in all tournaments and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, passed all other knights, and was never overcome, except it were by treason or enchantment; and he increased marvellously in worship, wherefore queen guenever had him in great favor, above all other knights. and for certain he loved the queen again above all other ladies; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from peril, through his noble chivalry. thus sir launcelot rested him long with play and game, and then he thought to prove himself in strange adventures; so he bade his nephew, sir lionel, to make him ready,-- "for we two will seek adventures." so they mounted on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into a forest, and so into a deep plain. and the weather was hot about noon, and sir launcelot had great desire to sleep. then sir lionel espied a great apple-tree that stood by a hedge, and he said: "brother, yonder is a fair shadow--there may we rest us and our horses." "it is well said," replied sir launcelot. so they there alighted, and sir launcelot laid him down, and his helm under his head, and soon was asleep passing fast. and sir lionel waked while he slept. and presently there came three knights riding as fast as ever they might ride, and there followed them but one knight. and sir lionel thought he never saw so great a knight before. so within a while this great knight overtook one of those knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth. then he rode to the second knight and smote him, and so he did to the third knight. then he alighted down and bound all the three knights fast with their own bridles. when sir lionel saw him do thus, he thought to assay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake sir launcelot, and rode after the strong knight, and bade him turn. and the other smote sir lionel so hard that horse and man fell to the earth; and then he alighted down and bound sir lionel, and threw him across his own horse; and so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own castle. and when he came there he put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights in great distress. now while sir launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping, there came by him four queens of great estate. and that the heat should not grieve them, there rode four knights about them, and bare a cloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. and the queens rode on four white mules. thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh. then they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay all armed under an apple-tree; and as the queens looked on his face, they knew it was sir launcelot. then they began to strive for that knight, and each one said she would have him for her love. "we will not strive," said morgane le fay, that was king arthur's sister, "for i will put an enchantment upon him, that he shall not wake for six hours, and we will take him away to my castle; and then when he is surely within my hold, i will take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for his love." so the enchantment was cast upon sir launcelot. and then they laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on horseback between two knights, and brought him unto the castle and laid him in a chamber, and at night they sent him his supper. and on the morning came early those four queens, richly dight, and bade him good morning, and he them again. "sir knight," they said, "thou must understand thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, that thou art sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son, and that thou art the noblest knight living. and we know well that there can no lady have thy love but one, and that is queen guenever; and now thou shalt lose her for ever, and she thee; and therefore it behooveth thee now to choose one of us. i am the queen morgane le fay, and here is the queen of north wales, and the queen of eastland, and the queen of the isles. now choose one of us which thou wilt have, for if thou choose not, in this prison thou shalt die." "this is a hard case," said sir launcelot, "that either i must die, or else choose one of you; yet had i liever to die in this prison with worship, than to have one of you for my paramour, for ye be false enchantresses." "well," said the queens, "is this your answer, that ye will refuse us." "yea, on my life it is," said sir launcelot. then they departed, making great sorrow. then at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and asked him, "what cheer?" "truly, fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "never so ill." "sir," said she, "if you will be ruled by me, i will help you out of this distress. if ye will promise me to help my father on tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt him and the king of north wales; for last tuesday my father lost the field." "fair maiden," said sir launcelot, "tell me what is your father's name, and then will i give you an answer." "sir knight," she said, "my father is king bagdemagus." "i know him well," said sir launcelot, "for a noble king and a good knight; and, by the faith of my body, i will be ready to do your father and you service at that day." so she departed, and came on the next morning early and found him ready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him to his own horse, and lightly he saddled him, and so rode forth. and on the tuesday next he came to a little wood where the tournament should be. and there were scaffolds and holds, that lords and ladies might look on, and give the prize. then came into the field the king of north wales, with eightscore helms, and king badgemagus came with fourscore helms. and then they couched their spears, and came together with a great dash, and there were overthrown at the first encounter twelve of king bagdemagus's party and six of the king of north wales's party, and king bagdemagus's party had the worse. with that came sir launcelot of the lake, and thrust in with his spear in the thickest of the press; and he smote down five knights ere he held his hand; and he smote down the king of north wales, and he brake his thigh in that fall. and then the knights of the king of north wales would just no more; and so the gree was given to king bagdemagus. and sir launcelot rode forth with king bagdemagus unto his castle; and there he had passing good cheer, both with the king and with his daughter. and on the morn he took his leave, and told the king he would go and seek his brother, sir lionel, that went from him when he slept. so he departed, and by adventure he came to the same forest where he was taken sleeping. and in the highway he met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other. "fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "know ye in this country any adventures?" "sir knight," said the damsel, "here are adventures near at hand, if thou durst pursue them." "why should i not prove adventures?" said sir launcelot, "since for that cause came i hither." "sir," said she, "hereby dwelleth a knight that will not be overmatched for any man i know, except thou overmatch him. his name is sir turquine, and, as i understand, he is a deadly enemy of king arthur, and he has in his prison good knights of arthur's court, threescore and more, that he hath won with his own hands." "damsel," said launcelot, "i pray you bring me unto this knight." so she told him, "hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and by it on the left hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and over that ford there groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many shields that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now prisoners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten, and if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings." and sir launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, and shortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the shields and the basin. and among the shields he saw sir lionel's and sir hector's shields, besides many others of knights that he knew. then sir launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his spear; and long he did so, but he saw no man. and at length he was ware of a great knight that drove a horse before him, and across the horse there lay an armed knight bounden. and as they came near, sir launcelot thought he should know the captive knight. then sir launcelot saw that it was sir gaheris, sir gawain's brother, a knight of the table round. "now, fair knight," said sir launcelot, "put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strength. for, as it is told me, thou hast done great despite and shame unto knights of the round table, therefore now defend thee." "if thou be of the table round," said sir turquine, "i defy thee and all thy fellowship." "that is overmuch said," said sir launcelot. then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with their horses as fast as they might run. and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, so that their horses fell under them, and the knights were both staggered; and as soon as they could clear their horses they drew out their swords and came together eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, for neither shield nor harness might withstand their strokes. so within a while both had grimly wounds, and bled grievously. then at the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning upon their swords. "now, fellow," said sir turquine, "thou art the stoutest man that ever i met with, and best breathed; and so be it thou be not the knight that i hate above all other knights, the knight that slew my brother, sir carados, i will gladly accord with thee; and for thy love i will deliver all the prisoners that i have." "what knight is he that thou hatest so above others?" "truly," said sir turquine, "his name is sir launcelot of the lake." "i am sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son of benwick, and very knight of the table round; and now i defy thee do thy best." "ah!" said sir turquine, "launcelot, thou art to me the most welcome that ever was knight; for we shall never part till the one of us be dead." and then they hurtled together like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their swords and shields, so that sometimes they fell, as it were, headlong. thus they fought two hours and more, till the ground where they fought was all bepurpled with blood. then at the last sir turquine waxed sore faint, and gave somewhat aback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. that spied sir launcelot, and leapt then upon him fiercely as a lion, and took him by the beaver of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees. and he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder. and sir gaheris, when he saw sir turquine slain, said, "fair lord, i pray you tell me your name, for this day i say ye are the best knight in the world, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the best knight except you that ever i saw." "sir, my name is sir launcelot du lac, that ought to help you of right for king arthur's sake, and in especial for sir gawain's sake, your own dear brother. now i pray you, that ye go into yonder castle, and set free all the prisoners ye find there, for i am sure ye shall find there many knights of the table round, and especially my brother sir lionel. i pray you greet them all from me, and tell them i bid them take there such stuff as they find; and tell my brother to go unto the court and abide me there, for by the feast of pentecost i think to be there; but at this time i may not stop, for i have adventures on hand." so he departed, and sir gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from the porter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all the prisoners. there was sir kay, sir brandeles, and sir galynde, sir bryan, and sir alyduke, sir hector de marys, and sir lionel, and many more. and when they saw sir gaheris they all thanked him, for they thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain sir turquine. "not so," said sir gaheris; "it was sir launcelot that slew him, right worshipfully; i saw it with mine eyes." sir launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, and therein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him with good- will, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. and when time was, his host brought him to a fair chamber over the gate to his bed. then sir launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. and soon after, there came one on horseback and knocked at the gate in great haste; and when sir launcelot heard this, he arose and looked out of the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights riding after that one man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and that one knight turned on them knightly again and defended himself. "truly," said sir launcelot, "yonder one knight will i help, for it is shame to see three knights on one." then he took his harness and went out at the window by a sheet down to the four knights; and he said aloud, "turn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight." then the knights left sir kay, for it was he they were upon, and turned unto sir launcelot, and struck many great strokes at sir launcelot, and assailed him on every side. then sir kay addressed him to help sir launcelot, but he said, "nay, sir, i will none of your help; let me alone with them." so sir kay suffered him to do his will, and stood one side. and within six strokes sir launcelot had stricken them down. then they all cried, "sir knight, we yield us unto you." "as to that," said sir launcelot, "i will not take your yielding unto me. if so be ye will yield you unto sir kay the seneschal, i will save your lives, but else not." "fair knight," then they said, "we will do as thou commandest us." "then shall ye," said sir launcelot, "on whitsunday next, go unto the court of king arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto queen guenever, and say that sir kay sent you thither to be her prisoners." "sir," they said, "it shall be done, by the faith of our bodies;" and then they swore, every knight upon his sword. and so sir launcelot suffered them to depart. on the morn sir launcelot rose early and left sir kay sleeping; and sir launcelot took sir kay's armor, and his shield, and armed him, and went to the stable and took his horse, and so he departed. then soon after arose sir kay, and missed sir launcelot. and then he espied that he had taken his armor and his horse. "now, by my faith, i know well," said sir kay, "that he will grieve some of king arthur's knights, for they will deem that it is i, and will be bold to meet him. but by cause of his armor i am sure i shall ride in peace." then sir kay thanked his host and departed. sir launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw four knights, under an oak, and they were of arthur's court. there was sir sagramour le desirus, and hector de marys, and sir gawain, and sir uwaine. as they spied sir launcelot they judged by his arms it had been sir kay. "now, by my faith," said sir sagramour, "i will prove sir kay's might;" and got his spear in his hand, and came towards sir launcelot. therewith sir launcelot couched his spear against him, and smote sir sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. then said sir hector, "now shall ye see what i may do with him." but he fared worse than sir sagramour, for sir launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare him from his horse to the ground. "by my faith," said sir uwaine, "yonder is a strong knight, and i fear he hath slain sir kay, and taken his armor." and therewith sir uwaine took his spear in hand, and rode toward sir launcelot; and sir launcelot met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was staggered, and wist not where he was. "now see i well," said sir gawain, "that i must encounter with that knight." then he adjusted his shield, and took a good spear in his hand, and sir launcelot knew him well. then they let run their horses with all their mights, and each knight smote the other in the middle of his shield. but sir gawain's spear broke, and sir launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse fell over backward. then sir launcelot passed by smiling with himself, and he said, "good luck be with him that made this spear, for never came a better into my hand." then the four knights went each to the other and comforted one another. "what say ye to this adventure," said sir gawain, "that one spear hath felled us all four?" "i dare lay my head it is sir launcelot," said sir hector; "i know it by his riding." and sir launcelot rode through many strange countries, till by fortune he came to a fair castle; and as he passed beyond the castle he thought he heard two bells ring. and then he perceived how a falcon came flying over his head, toward a high elm; and she had long lunys [footnote: lunys, the string with which the falcon is held.] about her feet, and she flew unto the elm to take her perch, and the lunys got entangled in the bough; and when she would have taken her flight, she hung by the legs fast, and sir launcelot saw how she hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was sorry for her. then came a lady out of the castle and cried aloud, "o launcelot, launcelot, as thou art the flower of all knights, help me to get my hawk; for if my hawk be lost, my lord will slay me, he is so hasty." "what is your lord's name?" said sir launcelot. "his name is sir phelot, a knight that belongeth to the king of north wales." "well, fair lady, since ye know my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, i will do what i may to get your hawk; and yet in truth i am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me." and therewith sir launcelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him. and when he was unarmed, he put off his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up to the falcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawk down with it; and the lady got the hawk in her hand. then suddenly there came out of the castle her husband, all armed, and with his naked sword in his hand, and said, "o knight launcelot, now have i got thee as i would," and stood at the boll of the tree to slay him. "ah, lady!" said sir launcelot, "why have ye betrayed me?" "she hath done," said sir phelot, "but as i commanded her; and therefore there is none other way but thine hour is come, and thou must die." "that were shame unto thee," said sir launcelot; "thou an armed knight to slay a naked man by treason." "thou gettest none other grace," said sir phelot, "and therefore help thyself if thou canst." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "that ever a knight should die weaponless!" and therewith he turned his eyes upward and downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, and he brake it off from the trunk. and then he came lower, and watched how his own horse stood; and suddenly he leapt on the further side of his horse from the knight. then sir phelot lashed at him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. but sir launcelot put away the stroke, with the big bough, and smote sir phelot therewith on the side of the head, so that he fell down in a swoon to the ground. then sir launcelot took his sword out of his hand and struck his head from the body. then said the lady, "alas! why hast thou slain my husband?" "i am not the cause," said sir launcelot, "for with falsehood ye would have slain me, and now it is fallen on yourselves." thereupon sir launcelot got all his armor, and put it upon him hastily, for fear of more resort, for the knight's castle was so nigh. and as soon as he might, he took his horse and departed, and thanked god he had escaped that adventure. and two days before the feast of pentecost, sir launcelot came home; and the king and all the court were passing glad of his coming. and when sir gawain, sir uwaine, sir sagramour, and sir hector de marys saw sir launcelot in sir kay's armor then they wist well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear. then there was laughing and merriment among them; and from time to time came all the knights that sir turquine had prisoners, and they all honored and worshipped sir launcelot. then sir gaheris said, "i saw all the battle from the beginning to the end," and he told king arthur all how it was. then sir kay told the king how sir launcelot had rescued him, and how he "made the knights yield to me, and not to him." and there they were, all three, and confirmed it all "and, by my faith," said sir kay, "because sir launcelot took my harness and left me his, i rode in peace, and no man would have to do with me." and so at that time sir launcelot had the greatest name of any knight of the world, and most was he honored of high and low. chapter ix the adventure of the cart it befell in the month of may, queen guenever called to her knights of the table round, and gave them warning that early upon the morrow she would ride a-maying into the woods and fields beside westminster; "and i warn you that there be none of you but he be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either silk or cloth; and i shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and two yeoman, and all well horsed." "for thus it chanced one morn when all the court, green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the may, had been, their wont, a-maying" --guinevere. so they made them ready; and these were the names of the knights: sir kay the seneschal, sir agrivaine, sir brandiles, sir sagramour le desirus, sir dodynas le sauvage, sir ozanna, sir ladynas, sir persant of inde, sir ironside, and sir pelleas; and these ten knights made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with the queen. so upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and rode a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and delight. now there was a knight named maleagans, son to king brademagus, who loved queen guenever passing well, and so had he done long and many years. now this knight, sir maleagans, learned the queen's purpose, and that she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for maying; so he prepared him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to take captive the queen and her knights. "in the merry month of may, in a morn at break of day, with a troop of damsels playing, the queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying." --old song. so when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked with herbs, mosses, and flowers in the best manner and freshest, right then came out of a wood sir maleagans with eightscore men well harnessed, and bade the queen and her knights yield them prisoners. "traitor knight," said queen guenever, "what wilt thou do? wilt thou shame thyself? bethink thee how thou art a king's son, and a knight of the table round, and how thou art about to dishonor all knighthood and thyself?" "be it as it may," said sir maleagans, "know you well, madam, i have loved you many a year and never till now could i get you to such advantage as i do now; and therefore i will take you as i find you." then the ten knights of the round table drew their swords, and the other party run at them with their spears, and the ten knights manfully abode them, and smote away their spears. then they lashed together with swords till several were smitten to the earth. so when the queen saw her knights thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at the last, then for pity and sorrow she cried, "sir maleagans, slay not my noble knights and i will go with you, upon this covenant, that they be led with me wheresoever thou leadest me." "madame," said maleagans, "for your sake they shall be led with you into my own castle, if that ye will be ruled, and ride with me." then sir maleagans charged them all that none should depart from the queen, for he dreaded lest sir launcelot should have knowledge of what had been done. then the queen privily called unto her a page of her chamber that was swiftly horsed, to whom she said, "go thou when thou seest thy time, and bear this ring unto sir launcelot, and pray him as he loveth me, that he will see me and rescue me. and spare not thy horse," said the queen, "neither for water nor for land." so the child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with the spurs and departed as fast as he might. and when sir maleagans saw him so flee, he understood that it was by the queen's commandment for to warn sir launcelot. then they that were best horsed chased him, and shot at him, but the child went from them all. then sir maleagans said to the queen, "madam, ye are about to betray me, but i shall arrange for sir launcelot that he shall not come lightly at you." then he rode with her and them all to his castle, in all the haste that they might. and by the way sir maleagans laid in ambush the best archers that he had to wait for sir launcelot. and the child came to westminster and found sir launcelot and told his message and delivered him the queen's ring. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "now am i shamed for ever, unless i may rescue that noble lady." then eagerly he asked his armor and put it on him, and mounted his horse and rode as fast as he might; and men say he took the water at westminster bridge, and made his horse swim over thames unto lambeth. then within a while he came to a wood where was a narrow way; and there the archers were laid in ambush. and they shot at him and smote his horse so that he fell. then sir launcelot left his horse and went on foot, but there lay so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that he might not meddle with them. "alas! for shame," said sir launcelot, "that ever one knight should betray another! but it is an old saw, a good man is never in danger, but when he is in danger of a coward." then sir launcelot went awhile and he was exceedingly cumbered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, and all that belonged to him. then by chance there came by him a cart that came thither to fetch wood. now at this time carts were little used except for carrying offal and for conveying criminals to execution. but sir launcelot took no thought of anything but the necessity of haste for the purpose of rescuing the queen; so he demanded of the carter that he should take him in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberal reward. the carter consented, and sir launcelot placed himself in the cart and only lamented that with much jolting he made but little progress. then it happened sir gawain passed by and seeing an armed knight travelling in that unusual way he drew near to see who it might be. then sir launcelot told him how the queen had been carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horse had been disabled and he had been compelled to avail himself of the cart rather than give up his enterprise. then sir gawain said, "surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such sort;" but sir launcelot heeded him not. at nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady thereof came out at the head of her damsels to welcome sir gawain. but to admit his companion, whom she supposed to be a criminal, or at least a prisoner, it pleased her not; however, to oblige sir gawain, she consented. at supper sir launcelot came near being consigned to the kitchen and was only admitted to the lady's table at the earnest solicitation of sir gawain. neither would the damsels prepare a bed for him. he seized the first he found unoccupied and was left undisturbed. next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a train accompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. sir gawain thought it might be so, and became equally eager to depart. the lady of the castle supplied sir launcelot with a horse and they traversed the plain at full speed. they learned from some travellers whom they met, that there were two roads which led to the castle of sir maleagans. here therefore the friends separated. sir launcelot found his way beset with obstacles, which he encountered successfully, but not without much loss of time. as evening approached he was met by a young and sportive damsel, who gayly proposed to him a supper at her castle. the knight, who was hungry and weary, accepted the offer, though with no very good grace. he followed the lady to her castle and ate voraciously of her supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorous advances. suddenly the scene changed and he was assailed by six furious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most of them were speedily disabled, when again there was a change and he found himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed him that she was none other than his guardian fairy, who had but subjected him to tests of his courage and fidelity. the next day the fairy brought him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring, which she told him would by its changes of color disclose to him all enchantments, and enable him to subdue them. sir launcelot pursued his journey, without being much incommoded except by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to have learned, by some means, his disgraceful drive in the cart. one, more insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him during dinner, and even to risk a battle in support of his pleasantry. launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed him to be carted in his turn. at night he was received at another castle, with great apparent hospitality, but found himself in the morning in a dungeon, and loaded with chains. consulting his ring, and finding that this was an enchantment, he burst his chains, seized his armor in spite of the visionary monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open the gates of the tower, and continued his journey. at length his progress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent, which could only be passed on a narrow bridge, on which a false step would prove his destruction. launcelot, leading his horse by the bridle, and making him swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and was attacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and a leopard, both of which he slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seated himself on the grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, when he was accosted by brademagus, the father of maleagans, whose castle was then in sight, and at no great distance. this king, no less courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, after complimenting sir launcelot on the valor and skill he had displayed in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offered him his assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe in his castle, but could only be rescued by encountering maleagans. launcelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accordingly it took place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes of the fair captive. launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, and fought not with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time was doubtful; till guenever exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! my knight, truly have i been told that thou art no longer worthy of me!" these words instantly revived the drooping knight; he resumed at once his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his haughty adversary. he was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment, when guenever, moved by the entreaties of brademagus, ordered him to withhold the blow, and he obeyed. the castle and its prisoners were now at his disposal. launcelot hastened to the apartment of the queen, threw himself at her feet, and was about to kiss her hand, when she exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! why do i see thee again, yet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after having been disgracefully drawn about the country in a--" she had not time to finish the phrase, for her lover suddenly started from her, and, bitterly lamenting that he had incurred the displeasure of his sovereign lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his shield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods, and disappeared. it seems that the story of the abominable cart, which haunted launcelot at every step, had reached the ears of sir kay, who had told it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have been dishonored. but guenever had full leisure to repent the haste with which she had given credit to the tale. three days elapsed, during which launcelot wandered without knowing where he went, till at last he began to reflect that his mistress had doubtless been deceived by misrepresentation, and that it was his duty to set her right. he therefore returned, compelled maleagans to release his prisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected the arrival of sir gawain, had the satisfaction of meeting him the next day; after which the whole company proceeded gayly towards camelot. chapter x the lady of shalott king arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held at winchester. the king, not less impatient than his knights for this festival, set off some days before to superintend the preparations, leaving the queen with her court at camelot. sir launcelot, under pretence of indisposition, remained behind also. his intention was to attend the tournament--in disguise; and having communicated his project to guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the feebleness of age, took the most unfrequented road to winchester, and passed unnoticed as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of the sports. even arthur and gawain, who happened to behold him from the windows of a castle under which he passed, were the dupes of his disguise. but an accident betrayed him. his horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forgetting for a moment his assumed character, recovered the animal with a strength and agility so peculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized the inimitable launcelot. they suffered him, however, to proceed on his journey without interruption, convinced that his extraordinary feats of arms must discover him at the approaching festival. in the evening launcelot was magnificently entertained as a stranger knight at the neighboring castle of shalott. the lord of this castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sons lately received into the order of knighthood, one of whom was at that time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from attending the tournament, for which both brothers had long made preparation. launcelot offered to attend the other, if he were permitted to borrow the armor of the invalid, and the lord of shalott, without knowing the name of his guest, being satisfied from his appearance that his son could not have a better assistant in arms, most thankfully accepted the offer. in the meantime the young lady, who had been much struck by the first appearance of the stranger knight, continued to survey him with increased attention, and, before the conclusion of supper, became so deeply enamoured of him, that after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms which sir launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged to retire to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. sir launcelot hastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, the information that his heart was already disposed of, but that it would be his pride and pleasure to act as her knight at the approaching tournament. the lady, obliged to be satisfied with that courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at the tournament. launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, on their approaching winchester, carried him to the castle of a lady, sister to the lord of shalott, by whom they were hospitably entertained. the next day they put on their armor, which was perfectly plain and without any device, as was usual to youths during the first year of knighthood, their shields being only painted red, as some color was necessary to enable them to be recognized by their attendants. launcelot wore on his crest the scarf of the maid of shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to the tournament, where the knights were divided into two companies, the one commanded by sir galehaut, the other by king arthur. having surveyed the combat for a short time from without the lists, and observed that sir galehaut's party began to give way, they joined the press and attacked the royal knights, the young man choosing such adversaries as were suited to his strength, while his companion selected the principal champions of the round table, and successively overthrew gawain, bohort, and lionel. the astonishment of the spectators was extreme, for it was thought that no one but launcelot could possess such invincible force; yet the favor on his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of his being thus disguised, for launcelot had never been known to wear the badge of any but his sovereign lady. at length sir hector, launcelot's brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the head, but was himself completely stunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground; after which the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by his companion. they returned to the castle of shalott, where launcelot was attended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probably much hastened the period of his recovery. his health was almost completely restored, when sir hector, sir bohort, and sir lionel, who, after the return of the court to camelot, had undertaken the quest of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls of the castle. their meeting was very joyful; they passed three days in the castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each other on the events of the tournament. launcelot, though he began by vowing vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended by declaring that he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he took in witnessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. he then dismissed them with a message to the queen, promising to follow immediately, it being necessary that he should first take a formal leave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of shalott. the young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by her tears and solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her any ground for hope. it was early summer when the tournament took place; but some months had passed since launcelot's departure, and winter was now near at hand. the health and strength of the lady of shalott had gradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart from the object of her affections. she left the castle, and descending to the river's brink placed herself in a boat, which she loosed from its moorings, and suffered to bear her down the current toward camelot. one morning, as arthur and sir lionel looked from the window of the tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, they descried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning of cloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down the stream without any human guidance. it struck the shore while they watched it, and they hastened down to examine it. beneath the awning they discovered the dead body of a beautiful woman, in whose features sir lionel easily recognized the lovely maid of shalott. pursuing their search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with gold and jewels, and within the purse a letter, which arthur opened, and found addressed to himself and all the knights of the round table, stating that launcelot of the lake, the most accomplished of knights and most beautiful of men, but at the same time the most cruel and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of the wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible than his cruelty. the king immediately gave orders for the interment of the lady with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time explaining to the knights the history of her affection for launcelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all. tennyson has chosen the story of the "lady of shalott" for the subject of a poem. the catastrophe is told thus: "under tower and balcony, by garden-wall and gallery, a gleaming shape she floated by, a corse between the houses high, silent into camelot. out upon the wharfs they came, knight and burgher, lord and dame, and round the prow they read her name, 'the lady of shalott' "who is this? and what is here? and in the lighted palace near died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the knights at camelot. but launcelot mused a little space; he said, 'she has a lovely face; god in his mercy lend her grace, the lady of shalott.'" chapter xi queen guenever's peril it happened at this time that queen guenever was thrown into great peril of her life. a certain squire who was in her immediate service, having some cause of animosity to sir gawain, determined to destroy him by poison, at a public entertainment. for this purpose he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance, which he placed on the top of several others, and put the dish before the queen, hoping that, as sir gawain was the knight of greatest dignity, she would present the apple to him. but it happened that a scottish knight of high distinction, who arrived on that day, was seated next to the queen, and to him as a stranger she presented the apple, which he had no sooner eaten than he was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. the whole court was, of course, thrown into confusion; the knights rose from table, darting looks of indignation at the wretched queen, whose tears and protestations were unable to remove their suspicions. in spite of all that could be done the knight died, and nothing remained but to order a magnificent funeral and monument for him, which was done. some time after sir mador, brother of the murdered knight, arrived at arthur's court in quest of him. while hunting in the forest he by chance came to the spot where the monument was erected, read the inscription, and returned to court determined on immediate and signal vengeance. he rode into the hall, loudly accused the queen of treason, and insisted on her being given up for punishment, unless she should find by a certain day a knight hardy enough to risk his life in support of her innocence. arthur, powerful as he was, did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with a heavy heart to accept it, and mador sternly took his departure, leaving the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety. during all this time launcelot was absent, and no one knew where he was. he fled in anger from his fair mistress, upon being reproached by her with his passion for the lady of shalott, which she had hastily inferred from his wearing her scarf at the tournament. he took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, and resolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose conduct he thought must flow from a wish to get rid of him. yet calm reflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, and he had begun to wish, though hardly able to hope, for a reconciliation when the news of sir mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. the intelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare with the utmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if successful, would insure him at once the affection of his mistress and the gratitude of his sovereign. the sad fate of the lady of shalott had ere this completely acquitted launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of his fidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrel with him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her most efficient champion. as the day appointed by sir mador was fast approaching, it became necessary that she should procure a champion for her defence; and she successively adjured sir hector, sir lionel, sir bohort, and sir gawain to undertake the battle. she fell on her knees before them, called heaven to witness her innocence of the crime alleged against her, but was sternly answered by all that they could not fight to maintain the innocence of one whose act, and the fatal consequence of it, they had seen with their own eyes. she retired, therefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of the fatal pile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, exciting her to fresh effort, she again repaired to sir bohort, threw herself at his feet, and piteously calling on him for mercy, fell into a swoon. the brave knight was not proof against this. he raised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake her cause, if no other or better champion should present himself. he then summoned his friends, and told them his resolution; and as a mortal combat with sir mador was a most fearful enterprise, they agreed to accompany him in the morning to the hermitage in the forest, where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit, and to make his peace with heaven before he entered the lists. as they approached the hermitage, they espied a knight riding in the forest, whom they at once recognized as sir launcelot. overjoyed at the meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received his instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well as they could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking her defence, which he meant to do in tne character of an unknown adventurer. on their return to the castle they found that mass was finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen before they were summoned into the hall to dinner. a general gloom was spread over the countenances of all the guests. arthur himself was unable to conceal his dejection, and the wretched guenever, motionless and bathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of sir mador's appearance. nor was it long ere he stalked into the hall, and with a voice of thunder, rendered more impressive by the general silence, demanded instant justice on the guilty party. arthur replied with dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, and that perhaps a champion might yet be found capable of satisfying his thirst for battle. sir bohort now rose from table, and shortly returning in complete armor, resumed his place, after receiving the embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume some degree of confidence. sir mador, growing impatient, again repeated his denunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combat should no longer be postponed. in the height of the debate there came riding into the hall a knight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, with his visor down, and lance in hand. "sir," said the king, "is it your will to alight and partake of our cheer?" "nay, sir," he replied; "i come to save a lady's life. the queen hath ill bestowed her favors, and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need she should have none to take her part. thou that darest accuse her of treachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt thou need all thy might." sir mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the stern challenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, but prepared for the encounter. at the first shock both were unhorsed. they then drew their swords, and commenced a combat which lasted from noon till evening, when sir mador, whose strength began to fail, was felled to the ground by launcelot, and compelled to sue for mercy. the victor, whose arm was already raised to terminate the life of his opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteously lifted up the fainting sir mador, frankly confessing that he had never before encountered so formidable an enemy. the other, with similar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects of vengeance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now become fast friends, embraced each other with the greatest cordiality. in the meantime arthur, having recognized sir launcelot, whose helmet was now unlaced, rushed down into the lists, followed by all his knights, to welcome and thank his deliverer. guenever swooned with joy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a scene of the most tumultuous delight. the general satisfaction was still further increased by the discovery of the real culprit. having accidentally incurred some suspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly punished in the presence of sir mador. the court now returned to the castle, which, with the title of "la joyeuse garde" bestowed upon it in memory of the happy event, was conferred on sir launcelot by arthur, as a memorial of his gratitude. chapter xii tristram and isoude meliadus was king of leonois, or lionesse, a country famous in the annals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of cornwall, but has now disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmed by the ocean. meliadus was married to isabella, sister of mark, king of cornwall. a fairy fell in love with him, and drew him away by enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. his queen set out in quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died, leaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances of his birth, she called tristram. gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, took charge of the child, and restored him to his father, who had at length burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home. meliadus after seven years married again, and the new queen, being jealous of the influence of tristram with his father, laid plots for his life, which were discovered by gouvernail, who in consequence fled with the boy to the court of the king of france, where tristram was kindly received, and grew up improving in every gallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in arms the arts of music and of chess. in particular, he devoted himself to the chase and to all woodland sports, so that he became distinguished above all other chevaliers of the court for his knowledge of all that relates to hunting. no wonder that belinda, the king's daughter, fell in love with him; but as he did not return her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger, excited her father against him, and he was banished the kingdom. the princess soon repented of her act, and in despair destroyed herself, having first written a most tender letter to tristram, sending him at the same time a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very fond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her. meliadus was now dead, and as his queen, tristram's stepmother, held the throne, gouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his native country, and took him to cornwall, to his uncle mark, who gave him a kind reception. king mark resided at the castle of tintadel, already mentioned in the history of uther and igerne. in this court tristram became distinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight; nor was it long before he had an opportunity of practically employing his valor and skill. moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to the queen of ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of king mark. the knights of cornwall are in ill repute in romance for their cowardice, and they exhibited it on this occasion. king mark could find no champion who dared to encounter the irish knight, till his nephew tristram, who had not yet received the honors of knighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the same time to fight the battle of cornwall against the irish champion. king mark assented with reluctance; tristram received the accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him, and the place and time were assigned for the encounter. without attempting to give the details of this famous combat, the first and one of the most glorious of tristram's exploits, we shall only say that the young knight, though severely wounded, cleft the head of moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in the wound. moraunt, half dead with his wound and the disgrace of his defeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with all speed for ireland, and died soon after arriving in his own country. the kingdom of cornwall was thus delivered from its tribute. tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. his friends flew to his assistance. they dressed his wounds, which in general healed readily; but the lance of moraunt was poisoned, and one wound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day by day. the surgeons could do no more. tristram asked permission of his uncle to depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of loegria (england). with his consent he embarked, and after tossing for many days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the coast of ireland. he landed, full of joy and gratitude that he had escaped the peril of the sea; took his rote,[footnote: a musical instrument.] and began to play. it was a summer evening, and the king of ireland and his daughter, the beautiful isoude, were at a window which overlooked the sea. the strange harper was sent for, and conveyed to the palace, where, finding that he was in ireland, whose champion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, and called himself tramtris. the queen undertook his cure, and by a medicated bath gradually restored him to health. his skill in music and in games occasioned his being frequently called to court, and he became the instructor of the princess isoude in minstrelsy and poetry, who profited so well under his care, that she soon had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor. at this time a tournament was held, at which many knights of the round table, and others, were present. on the first day a saracen prince, named palamedes, obtained the advantage over all. they brought him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which tristram, just recovering from his wound, was present. the fair isoude appeared on this occasion in all her charms. palamedes could not behold them without emotion, and made no effort to conceal his love. tristram perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousy taught him how dear the fair isoude had already become to him. next day the tournament was renewed. tristram, still feeble from his wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealed them in a forest near the place of the contest, and, after it had begun, mingled with the combatants. he overthrew all that encountered him, in particular palamedes, whom he brought to the ground with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand to hand, bearing off the prize of the tourney. but his exertions caused his wound to reopen; he bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him to the palace. the fair isoude devoted herself to his relief with an interest which grew more vivid day by day; and her skilful care soon restored him to health. it happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering the closet where tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a part of the sword had been broken off. it occurred to her that the missing portion was like that which was left in the skull of moraunt, the irish champion. she imparted her thought to the queen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound with the sword of tristram, and was satisfied that it was part of the same, and that the weapon of tristram was that which reft her brother's life. she laid her griefs and resentment before the king, who satisfied himself with his own eyes of the truth of her suspicions. tristram was cited before the whole court, and reproached with having dared to present himself before them after having slain their kinsman. he acknowledged that he had fought with moraunt to settle the claim for tribute, and said that it was by force of winds and waves alone that he was thrown on their coast. the queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother; the fair isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from all the assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave should not be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphed over resentment in the mind of the king. tristram was dismissed in safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without delay, and never to return thither under pain of death tristram went back, with restored health, to cornwall. king mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of his adventures. tristram told him all minutely; but when he came to speak of the fair isoude he described her charms with a warmth and energy such as none but a lover could display. king mark was fascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable time, demanded a boon[footnote: "good faith was the very corner-stone of chivalry. whenever a knight's word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant. instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffer something extremely to his prejudice. but it is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances of adherence to an indefinite promise. the history of the times presents authentic transactions equally embarrassing and absurd"--scott, note to sir tristram.] of his nephew, who readily granted it. the king made him swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil his commands. then mark directed him to go to ireland, and obtain for him the fair isoude to be queen of cornwall. tristram believed it was certain death for him to return to ireland; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in such a cause? yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant. he only took the precaution to change his armor. he embarked for ireland; but a tempest drove him to the coast of england, near camelot, where king arthur was holding his court, attended by the knights of the round table, and many others, the most illustrious in the world. tristram kept himself unknown. he took part in many justs; he fought many combats, in which he covered himself with glory. one day he saw among those recently arrived the king of ireland, father of the fair isoude. this prince, accused of treason against his liege sovereign, arthur, came to camelot to free himself from the charge. blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of the round table, was his accuser, and argius, the king, had neither youthful vigor nor strength to encounter him. he must therefore seek a champion to sustain his innocence. but the knights of the round table were not at liberty to fight against one another, unless in a quarrel of their own. argius heard of the great renown of the unknown knight; he also was witness of his exploits. he sought him, and conjured him to adopt his defence, and on his oath declared that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused. tristram readily consented, and made himself known to the king, who on his part promised to reward his exertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might ask. tristram fought with blaanor, and overthrew him, and held his life in his power. the fallen warrior called on him to use his right of conquest, and strike the fatal blow. "god forbid," said tristram, "that i should take the life of so brave a knight!" he raised him up and restored him to his friends. the judges of the field decided that the king of ireland was acquitted of the charge against him, and they led tristram in triumph to his tent. king argius, full of gratitude, conjured tristram to accompany him to his kingdom. they departed together, and arrived in ireland; and the queen, forgetting her resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing but gratitude and good-will. how happy a moment for isoude, who knew that her father had promised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask! but the unhappy tristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the cruel oath which bound him. his magnanimous soul subdued the force of his love. he revealed the oath which he had taken, and with trembling voice demanded the fair isoude for his uncle. argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the departure of isoude. brengwain, her favorite maid of honor, was to accompany her. on the day of departure the queen took aside this devoted attendant, and told her that she had observed that her daughter and tristram were attached to one another, and that to avert the bad effects of this inclination she had procured from a powerful fairy a potent philter (love-draught), which she directed brengwain to administer to isoude and to king mark on the evening of their marriage. isoude and tristram embarked together. a favorable wind filled the sails, and promised them a fortunate voyage. the lovers gazed upon one another, and could not repress their sighs. love seemed to light up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. the day was warm; they suffered from thirst. isoude first complained. tristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught, which brengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in sight. he took it, gave some of it to the charming isoude, and drank the remainder himself. the dog houdain licked the cup. the ship arrived in cornwall, and isoude was married to king mark, the old monarch was delighted with his bride, and his gratitude to tristram was unbounded. he loaded him with honors, and made him chamberlain of his palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times. in the midst of the festivities of the court which followed the royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself, bearing a harp of peculiar construction. he excited the curiosity of king mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant him a boon. the king having promised to grant his request, the minstrel, who was none other than the saracen knight, sir palamedes, the lover of the fair isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in which he demanded isoude as the promised gift. king mark could not by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. the lady was mounted on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover. tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, and did not return until their departure. when he heard what had taken place he seized his rote, and hastened to the shore, where isoude and her new master had already embarked. tristram played upon his rote, and the sound reached the ears of isoude, who became so deeply affected, that sir palamedes was induced to return with her to land, that they might see the unknown musician. tristram watched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing his rival that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by the rote." palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence, the result of which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant knights; but isoude stepped between them, and, addressing palamedes, said, "you tell me that you love me; you will not then deny me the request i am about to make?" "lady," he replied, "i will perform your bidding." "leave, then," said she, "this contest, and repair to king arthur's court, and salute queen guenever from me; tell her that there are in the world but two ladies, herself and i, and two lovers, hers and mine; and come thou not in future in any place where i am." palamedes burst into tears. "ah, lady," said he, "i will obey you; but i beseech you that you will not for ever steel your heart against me." "palamedes," she replied, "may i never taste of joy again if i ever quit my first love." palamedes then went his way. the lovers remained a week in concealment, after which tristram restored isoude to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrels in some other way. the king showed much gratitude to tristram, but in the bottom of his heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. one day tristram and isoude were alone together in her private chamber. a base and cowardly knight of the court, named andret, spied them through a keyhole. they sat at a table of chess, but were not attending to the game. andret brought the king, having first raised his suspicions, and placed him so as to watch their motions. the king saw enough to confirm his suspicions, and he burst into the apartment with his sword drawn, and had nearly slain tristram before he was put on his guard. but tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before him the cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apartments of the palace, giving him frequent blows with the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to his knights to save him. they were not inclined, or did not dare, to interpose in his behalf. a proof of the great popularity of the tale of sir tristram is the fact that the italian poets, boiardo and ariosto, have founded upon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which produced the opposite effects of love and hatred. boiardo thus describes the fountain of hatred: "fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold, with alabaster sculptured, rich and rare; and in its basin clear thou might'st behold the flowery marge reflected fresh and fair. sage merlin framed the font,--so legends bear,-- when on fair isoude doated tristram brave, that the good errant knight, arriving there, might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave, and leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave. 'but ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed his steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain. though restless, roving on adventure proud, he traversed oft the land and oft the main." chapter xiii tristram and isoude (continued) after this affair tristram was banished from the kingdom, and isoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. tristram could not resolve to depart without some further communication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream under her window. by this means many secret interviews were obtained. tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself by game, which the dog houdain ran down for him; for this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master's wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he never barked. at length tristram departed, but left houdain with isoude, as a remembrancer of him. sir tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the most perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet unhappy at the separation from his beloved isoude. at length king mark's territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was forced to summon his nephew to his aid. tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle's vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. mark was full of gratitude, and tristram, restored to favor and to the society of his beloved isoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. but a sad reverse was at hand. tristram had brought with him a friend named pheredin, son of the king of brittany. this young knight saw queen isoude, and could not resist her charms. knowing the love of his friend for the queen, and that that love was returned, pheredin concealed his own, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing near his end. he then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dying for love of her. the gentle isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored him to life. a few days afterwards tristram found this letter. the most terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have slain pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. then tristram mounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor food. at length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the brink of a fountain. she recognized him, and tried in vain to rouse his attention. at last recollecting his love for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon. tristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed more freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs: "sweet i sang in former days, kind love perfected my lays: now my art alone displays the woe that on my being preys. "charming love, delicious power, worshipped from my earliest hour, thou who life on all dost shower, love! my life thou dost devour. "in death's hour i beg of thee, isoude, dearest enemy, thou who erst couldst kinder be, when i'm gone, forget not me. "on my gravestone passers-by oft will read, as low i lie, 'never wight in love could vie with tristram, yet she let him die.'" tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen. meanwhile queen isoude was inconsolable at the absence of tristram. she discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter which she had written to pheredin. innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her letter, she wrote another to pheredin, charging him never to see her again. the unhappy lover obeyed this cruel decree. he plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love in a hermit's cell. isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate of tristram. one day her jealous husband, having entered her chamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay: "my voice to piteous wail is bent, my harp to notes of languishment; ah, love! delightsome days be meant for happier wights, with hearts content. "ah, tristram' far away from me, art thou from restless anguish free? ah! couldst thou so one moment be, from her who so much loveth thee?" the king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. "you have heard me," she said; "i confess it all. i love tristram, and always shall love him. without doubt he is dead, and died for me. i no longer wish to live. the blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome." the king was moved at the distress of the fair isoude, and perhaps the idea of tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. he left the queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especial care lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself. tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most important service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber named taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages. the shepherds, in their gratitude to tristram, bore him in triumph to king mark to have him bestow on him a suitable reward. no wonder mark failed to recognize in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew tristram; but grateful for the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women. under such care tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his health, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer than ever. king mark's jealousy revived with tristram's health and good looks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished him from the court. sir tristram left cornwall, and proceeded into the land of loegria (england) in quest of adventures. one day he entered a wide forest. the sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant was near. he followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed him that he was in the forest of arnantes, belonging to the fairy viviane, the lady of the lake, who, smitten with love for king arthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who and what he was. the hermit informed him that all the knights of the round table were out in search of the king, and that he (tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and important adventures. this was enough to animate tristram in the search. he had not wandered far before he encountered a knight of arthur's court, who proved to be sir kay the seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. tristram answering, "from cornwall," sir kay did not let slip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the cornish knight. tristram chose to leave him in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights tristram declined to just with them. they spent the night together at an abbey, where tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. the seneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set out early next day, and intercept the cornish knight on his way, and enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist on running a tilt with him. tristram next morning found himself alone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. he soon saw before him the seneschal and the three knights, who barred the way, and insisted on a just. tristram excused himself a long time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. he encountered them, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friend the knight of cornwall. tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, "ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!" tristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head. tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance one of the assailants. the knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed another to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. the rescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon his breast. the majesty and venerable air of this knight made tristram suspect that it was none other than arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture. tristram would have knelt before him, but arthur received him in his arms, and inquired his name and country; but tristram declined to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring secrecy. at this moment the damsel who had brought tristram to the rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved the enchantment. arthur, having recovered his reason and his memory, offered to tristram to attach him to his court, and to confer honors and dignities upon him; but tristram declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in the hands of his knights. soon after, hector de marys rode up, and saluted the king, who on his part introduced him to tristram as one of the bravest of his knights. tristram took leave of the king and his faithful follower, and continued his quest. we cannot follow tristram through all the adventures which filled this epoch of his history. suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. in the meantime isoude, separated from her dear tristram, passed her days in languor and regret. at length she could no longer resist the desire to hear some news of her lover. she wrote a letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece of her faithful brengwain. one day tristram, weary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of a fountain and fallen asleep. the damsel of queen isoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized passebreul, the horse of tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep. he was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he suffered in separation from his beloved. she awakened him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and tristram enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking about the object of his affections. he prayed the damsel to postpone her return till after the magnificent tournament which arthur had proclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to the castle of persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received her with great consideration. tristram conducted the damsel of queen isoude to the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen. "he glanced and saw the stately galleries, dame, damsel, each through worship of their queen white-robed in honor of the stainless child, and some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. he looked but once, and veiled his eyes again." --the last tournament. he then joined the tourney. nothing could exceed his strength and valor. launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. arthur descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but the modest and devoted tristram, content with having borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared. the next day the tourney recommenced. tristram assumed different armor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the terrible blows that he gave, arthur and guenever had no doubt that it was the same knight who had borne off the prize of the day before. arthur's gallant spirit was roused. after launcelot of the lake and sir gawain he was accounted the best knight of the round table. he went privately and armed himself, and came into the tourney in undistinguished armor. he ran a just with tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but tristram, who did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. arthur recovered himself, and content with having made proof of the stranger knight bade launcelot finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the round table. sir launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed tristram, whose lance was already broken in former encounters. but the law of this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken his lance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of his antagonist. tristram met launcelot's charge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not fail to pierce. it inflicted a wound upon tristram's side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. but tristram also with his sword smote so vigorously on launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and wounded his head. the wound was not deep, but the blood flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and tristram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. launcelot declared to the king that he had never received such a blow in his life before. tristram hastened to gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. tristram after the tournament kept retired in his tent, but arthur, with the consent of all the knights of the round table, decreed him the honors of the second day. but it was no longer a secret that the victor of the two days was the same individual, and gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions of launcelot and arthur that it was no other than sir tristram of leonais, the nephew of the king of cornwall. king arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and knew that his uncle mark had ungratefully banished him, would have eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach tristram to his court,--all the knights of the round table declaring with acclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthy companion. but tristram had already departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of queen isoude returned to her mistress. chapter xiv sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot sir tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, and one man did battle against nine. so he rode to the knights and cried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. then answered the master of the knights (his name was sir breuse sans pitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living): "sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? if ye be wise depart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape us." "that were pity," said sir tristram, "that so good a knight should be slain so cowardly; therefore i warn you i will succor him with all my puissance." then sir tristram alighted off his horse, because they were on foot, that they should not slay his horse. and he smote on the right hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight. at last they fled, with breuse sans pitie, into the tower, and shut sir tristram without the gate. then sir tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and found him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. "fair knight," said he, "how is it with you?" "sir knight," said sir palamedes, for he it was, "i thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me from death." "what is your name?" said sir tristram. he said, "my name is sir palamedes." "say ye so?" said sir tristram; "now know that thou art the man in the world that i most hate; therefore make thee ready, for i will do battle with thee." "what is your name?" said sir palamedes. "my name is sir tristram, your mortal enemy." "it may be so," said sir palamedes; "but you have done overmuch for me this day, that i should fight with you. moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, for you are fresh and i am wounded. therefore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign me a day, and i shall meet you without fail." "you say well, "said sir tristram; "now i assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of camelot, where merlin set the monument." so they were agreed. then they departed and took their ways diverse. sir tristram passed through a great forest into a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days. then departed sir tristram, and rode straight into camelot to the monument of merlin, and there he looked about him for sir palamedes. and he perceived a seemly knight, who came riding against him all in white, with a covered shield. when he came nigh sir tristram said aloud, "welcome, sir knight, and well and truly have you kept your promise." then they made ready their shields and spears, and came together with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. and as soon as they might they quitted their horses, and struck together with bright swords as men of might, and each wounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out upon the grass. thus they fought for the space of four hours and never one would speak to the other one word. then at last spake the white knight, and said, "sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as ever i saw knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me your name." "why dost thou ask my name?" said sir tristram; "art thou not sir palamedes?" "no, fair knight," said he, "i am sir launcelot of the lake." "alas!" said sir tristram, "what have i done? for you are the man of the world that i love best." "fair knight," said sir launcelot, "tell me your name." "truly," said he, "my name is sir tristram de lionesse." "alas! alas!" said sir launcelot, "what adventure has befallen me!" and therewith sir launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and sir tristram kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and so either gave other the degree. and then they both went to the stone, and sat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed the other a hundred times. and then anon they rode toward camelot, and on the way they met with sir gawain and sir gaheris, that had made promise to arthur never to come again to the court till they had brought sir tristram with them. "return again," said sir launcelot, "for your quest is done; for i have met with sir tristram. lo, here he is in his own person." then was sir gawain glad, and said to sir tristram, "ye are welcome." with this came king arthur, and when he wist there was sir tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said, "sir tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came to this court." then sir tristram told the king how he came thither for to have had to do with sir palamedes, and how he had rescued him from sir breuse sans pitie and the nine knights. then king arthur took sir tristram by the hand, and went to the table round, and queen guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all the ladies said with one voice, "welcome, sir tristram." "welcome," said the knights. "welcome," said arthur, "for one of the best of knights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most worship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of all instruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentle knight," said arthur, "ye are welcome to this court." and then king arthur made sir tristram knight of the table round with great nobley and feasting as can be thought. sir tristram as a sportsman tristram is often alluded to by the romancers as the great authority and model in all matters relating to the chase. in the "faery queene," tristram, in answer to the inquiries of sir calidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes: "all which my days i have not lewdly spent, nor spilt the blossom of my tender years in idlesse; but, as was convenient, have trained been with many noble feres in gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers; 'mongst which my most delight hath always been to hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers, of all that rangeth in the forest green, of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen. "ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch, whether high towering or accosting low, but i the measure of her flight do search, and all her prey, and all her diet know. such be our joys, which in these forests grow." [footnote: feres, companions; thewes, labors; leers, learning.] chapter xv the round table the famous enchanter, merlin, had exerted all his skill in fabricating the round table. of the seats which surrounded it he had constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen apostles. twelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only by knights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seat of the traitor judas. it remained always empty. it was called the perilous seat, ever since a rash and haughty saracen knight had dared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed him up. "in our great hall there stood a vacant chair, fashion'd by merlin ere he past away, and carven with strange figures; and in and out the figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll of letters in a tongue no man could read and merlin call'd it 'the siege perilous,' perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said, 'no man could sit but he should lose himself.'" --the holy grail. a magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who was entitled to sit in it. no one could succeed to a vacant seat unless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who had occupied it before him; without this qualification he would be violently repelled by a hidden force. thus proof was made of all those who presented themselves to replace any companions of the order who had fallen. one of the principal seats, that of moraunt of ireland, had been vacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever since the time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the sword of sir tristram. arthur now took tristram by the hand and led him to that seat. immediately the most melodious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of moraunt disappeared, and that of tristram blazed forth in light. the rare modesty of tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; for the clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of the round table attended, and he was required by the law of his order to declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him to take that seat. this ceremony being ended, tristram received the congratulations of all his companions. sir launcelot and guenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair isoude, and to express their wish that some happy chance might bring her to the kingdom of loegria. while tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of king arthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soul of mark. he could not look upon isoude without remembering that she loved tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded him to thoughts of vengeance. he at last resolved to go disguised into the kingdom of loegria, attack tristram by stealth, and put him to death. he took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who he thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave isoude behind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with her faithful brengwain, and made them accompany him. having arrived in the neighborhood of camelot, mark imparted his plan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer remain in his service; and left him, giving him reason to suppose that they should repair to the court to accuse him before arthur. it was necessary for mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leaving isoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to camelot. mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights of arthur's court, and would have avoided them, for he knew their habit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom they met. but it was too late. they had seen his armor, and recognized him as a cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sport with him. it happened they had with them daguenet, king arthur's fool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting in courage. the knights as mark approached laid their plan that daguenet should personate sir launcelot of the lake, and challenge the cornish knight. they equipped him in armor belonging to one of their number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-road to defy the strange knight. mark, who saw that his antagonist was by no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to the combat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that he was sir launcelot of the lake, his fears prevailed, he put spurs to his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shouts and laughter of the party. meanwhile isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful brengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in a forest adjoining the abbey. there, on the brink of a fountain girdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joined her voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains or pleasures. one day the caitiff knight, breuse the pitiless, heard her voice, concealed himself, and drew near. she sang: "sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair, ye court my troubled spirit to repose, whilst i, such dear remembrance rises there, awaken every echo with my woes "within these woods, by nature's hand arrayed, a fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers; ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid! how my sad eyes do swell it with their showers! "what doth my knight the while? to him is given a double meed; in love and arms' emprise, him the round table elevates to heaven! tristram! ah me! he hears not isoude's cries." breuse the pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt the weight of tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearing his name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by a double impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid hands on his victim. isoude fainted, and brengwain filled the air with her shrieks. breuse carried isoude to the place where he had left his horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was at some distance. he was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and go in pursuit of his horse. just then a knight came up, drawn by the cries of brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. she could not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible on the ground. breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of brengwain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the cause of the distress. tristram spurred his horse towards breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. breuse was unhorsed, and lay motionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knight left him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted his horse, and made his escape. the knight now approached isoude, gently raised her head, drew aside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereon for an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. brengwain came; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they then turned their attention to the fallen warrior. they raised his visor, and discovered the countenance of sir tristram. isoude threw herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face with her tears. their warmth revived the knight, and tristram on awaking found himself in the arms of his dear isoude. it was the law of the round table that each knight after his admission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures, during which time his companions might meet him in disguised armor and try their strength with him. tristram had now been out seven days, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights of the round table, and acquitted himself with honor. during the remaining three days, isoude remained at the abbey, under his protection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by sir tristram, to rejoin king mark at the court of camelot. this happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives of tristram and isoude. he celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in a peculiar measure, to which the french give the name of triolet. "with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! how blest for ever thus to rove, with fair isoude, and with love! as she wills, i live and move, and cloudless days to days succeed: with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! "journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair? yon green turf invites to play; journeying on from day to day, ah! let us to that shade away, were it but to slumber there! journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair?" they arrived at camelot, where sir launcelot received them most cordially. isoude was introduced to king arthur and queen guenever, who welcomed her as a sister. as king mark was held in arrest under the accusation of the two cornish knights, queen isoude could not rejoin her husband, and sir launcelot placed his castle of la joyeuse garde at the disposal of his friends, who there took up their abode. king mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of the charge against him, or to clear himself by combat with his accusers, preferred the former, and king arthur, as his crime had not been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining upon him, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside all thoughts of vengeance against his nephew. in the presence of the king and his court all parties were formally reconciled; mark and his queen departed for their home, and tristram remained at arthur's court. chapter xvi sir palamedes while sir tristram and the fair isoude abode yet at la joyeuse garde, sir tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having no weapon but his spear and his sword. and as he rode he came to a place where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them had gotten the better and the other lay overthrown. the knight who had the better was sir palamedes. when sir palamedes knew sir tristram, he cried out, "sir tristram, now we be met, and ere we depart we will redress our old wrongs." "as for that," said sir tristram, "there never yet was christian man that might make his boast that i ever fled from him, and thou that art a saracen shalt never say that of me." and therewith sir tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might came straight upon sir palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. then he drew his sword and struck at sir palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. sir palamedes saw that sir tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his rashness and his great folly; and said to himself, "if i meet and slay him, i am shamed wheresoever i go." then sir tristram cried out and said, "thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle with me? for have thou no doubt i shall endure all thy malice." "ah, sir tristram!" said sir palamedes, "thou knowest i may not fight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and i am armed; now i require that thou answer me a question that i shall ask you." "tell me what it is," said sir tristram. "i put the case," said palamedes, "that you were well armed, and i naked as ye be; what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?" "ah!" said sir tristram, "now i understand thee well, sir palamedes; and, as god bless me, what i shall say shall not be said for fear that i have of thee. but if it were so, thou shouldest depart from me, for i would not have to do with thee." "no more will i with thee," said sir palamedes, "and therefore ride forth on thy way." "as for that, i may choose," said sir tristram, "either to ride or to abide. but, sir palamedes, i marvel at one thing,--that thou art so good a knight, yet that thou wilt not be christened." "as for that," said sir palamedes, "i may not yet be christened, for a vow which i made many years ago; yet in my heart i believe in our saviour and his mild mother, mary; but i have yet one battle to do, and when that is done i will be christened, with a good will." "by my head," said sir tristram, "as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer; for yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. now help me to be clothed in his armor, and i will soon fulfil thy vow." "as ye will," said sir palamedes, "so shall it be." so they rode both unto that knight that sat on a bank; and sir tristram saluted him, and he full weary saluted him again. "sir," said sir tristram, "i pray you to lend me your whole armor; for i am unarmed, and i must do battle with this knight." "sir," said the hurt knight, "you shall have it, with a right good will," then sir tristram unarmed sir galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he as well as he could helped to arm sir tristram. then sir tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took sir galleron's spear. thereupon sir palamedes was ready, and so they came hurling together, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields. sir palamedes' spear broke, and sir tristram smote down the horse. then sir palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. that saw sir tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his horse to a tree. then they came together as two wild beasts, lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours; and often sir tristram smote such strokes at sir palamedes that he made him to kneel, and sir palamedes broke away sir tristram's shield, and wounded him. then sir tristram was wroth out of measure, and he rushed to sir palamedes and wounded him passing sore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote sir palamedes' sword out of his hand and if sir palamedes had stooped for his sword sir tristram had slain him. then sir palamedes stood and beheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. "now," said sir tristram, "i have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; but it shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that sir tristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore take thou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end." then spoke sir palamedes to sir tristram: "i have no wish to fight this battle any more. the offence that i have done unto you is not so great but that, if it please you, we may be friends. all that i have offended is for the love of the queen, la belle isoude, and i dare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for that offence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some i have given you again. wherefore i require you, my lord sir tristram, forgive me all that i have offended you, and this day have me unto the next church; and first i will be clean confessed, and after that see you that i be truly baptized, and then we will ride together unto the court of my lord, king arthur, so that we may be there at the feast of pentecost." "now take your horse," said sir tristram, "and as you have said, so shall it be done." so they took their horses, and sir galleron rode with them. when they came to the church of carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a great vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he then confessed sir palamedes clean, and christened him, and sir tristram and sir galleron were his godfathers. then soon after they departed, and rode towards camelot, where the noble king arthur and queen guenever were keeping a court royal. and the king and all the court were glad that sir palamedes was christened. then sir tristram returned again to la joyeuse garde, and sir palamedes went his way. not long after these events sir gawain returned from brittany, and related to king arthur the adventure which befell him in the forest of breciliande, how merlin had there spoken to him, and enjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the quest of the holy greal. while king arthur deliberated tristram determined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as it was well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon of all his sins. he immediately departed for the kingdom of brittany, hoping there to obtain from merlin counsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success. chapter xvii sir tristram on arriving in brittany tristram found king hoel engaged in a war with a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. his best knights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turn for assistance. tristram volunteered his aid. it was accepted; and the army of hoel, led by tristram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. the king, penetrated by the most lively sentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of tristram's birth, offered him his daughter in marriage. the princess was beautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the queen of cornwall; but this one is designated by the romancers as isoude of the white hands, to distinguish her from isoude the fair. how can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of tristram? he adored the first isoude, but his love for her was hopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. moreover, the sacred quest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purity of life. it seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him in the charming princess isoude of the white hands the best security for all his good resolutions. this last reflection determined him. they were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness at the court of king hoel. the pleasure which tristram felt in his wife's society increased day by day. an inward grace seemed to stir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the quest of the holy greal; it seemed even to triumph over the power of the magic love-potion. the war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew. tristram as usual was foremost in every danger. the enemy was worsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up in his principal city. tristram led on the attack of the city. as he mounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. it bore him to the ground, where he lay insensible. as soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried to his wife. the princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would not suffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. her fair hands bound up his wounds; tristram kissed them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. at first the devoted cares of isoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while these flattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day. in this perplexity, an old squire of tristram's reminded his master that the princess of ireland, afterwards queen of cornwall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. he called isoude of the white hands to him, told her of his former cure, added that he believed that the queen isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sent for. isoude of the white hands consented that gesnes, a trusty man and skilful navigator, should be sent to cornwall. tristram called him, and, giving him a ring, "take this," he said, "to the queen of cornwall. tell her that tristram, near to death, demands her aid. if you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails to your vessel on your return, that we may know of your success when the vessel first heaves in sight. but if queen isoude refuses, put on black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death." gesnes performed his mission successfully. king mark happened to be absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented to return with the bark to brittany. gesnes clothed his vessel in the whitest of sails, and sped his way back to brittany. meantime the wound of tristram grew more desperate day by day. his strength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carried to the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first moment when it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. he called a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in the direction of cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of the sails of the first vessel she should see approaching. when isoude of the white hands consented that the queen of cornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasons which she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercourse with that princess might have on her own happiness. she had now learned more, and felt the danger more keenly. she thought, if she could only keep the knowledge of the queen's arrival from her husband, she might employ in his service any resources which her skill could supply, and still avert the dangers which she apprehended. when the vessel was seen approaching, with its white sails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of her mistress, carried word to tristram that the sails were black. tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profound sigh, turned away his face, and said, "alas, my beloved! we shall never see one another again!" then he commended himself to god, and breathed his last. the death of tristram was the first intelligence which the queen of cornwall heard on landing. she was conducted almost senseless into the chamber of tristram, and expired holding him in her arms. tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should be sent to cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had written, should be delivered to king mark. the remains of tristram and isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, which was presented to the king of cornwall. he was melted with tenderness when he saw the weapon which slew moraunt of ireland,-- which had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of his kingdom. in the letter tristram begged pardon of his uncle, and related the story of the amorous draught. mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. from the tomb of tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. it was cut down three times, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs of tristram and isoude. spenser introduces sir tristram in his "faery queene." in book vi., canto ii., sir calidore encounters in the forest a young hunter, whom he thus describes: "him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be a goodly youth of amiable grace, yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see yet seventeen yeares; but tall and faire of face, that sure he deemed him borne of noble race. all in a woodman's jacket he was clad of lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace; and on his head an hood with aglets sprad, and by his side his hunter's horne he hanging had. [footnote: aglets, points or tags] "buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne, pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, as then the guize was for each gentle swayne. in his right hand he held a trembling dart, whose fellow he before had sent apart; and in his left he held a sharp bore-speare, with which he wont to launch the salvage heart of many a lyon, and of many a beare, that first unto his hand in chase did happen neare." [footnote: pinckt upon gold, etc., adorned with golden points, or eyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. paled (in heraldry), striped] chapter xviii perceval the father and two elder brothers of perceval had fallen in battle or tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of his family, his mother retired with him into a solitary region, where he was brought up in total ignorance of arms and chivalry. he was allowed no weapon but "a lyttel scots spere," which was the only thing of all "her lordes faire gere" that his mother carried to the wood with her. in the use of this he became so skilful, that he could kill with it not only the animals of the chase for the table, but even birds on the wing. at length, however, perceval was roused to a desire of military renown by seeing in the forest five knights who were in complete armor. he said to his mother, "mother, what are those yonder?" "they are angels, my son," said she. "by my faith, i will go and become an angel with them." and perceval went to the road and met them. "tell me, good lad," said one of them, "sawest thou a knight pass this way either today or yesterday?" "i know not," said he, "what a knight is." "such an one as i am," said the knight. "if thou wilt tell me what i ask thee, i will tell thee what thou askest me." "gladly will i do so," said sir owain, for that was the knight's name. "what is this?" demanded perceval, touching the saddle. "it is a saddle," said owain. then he asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men and the horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and how they were used. and sir owain showed him all those things fully. and perceval in return gave him such information as he had then perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, "mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights." then his mother swooned away. and perceval went to the place where they kept the horses that carried firewood and provisions for the castle, and he took a bony, piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest of them. and he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and with twisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the horses. when he came again to his mother, the countess had recovered from her swoon. "my son," said she, "desirest thou to ride forth?" "yes, with thy leave," said he. "go forward, then," she said, "to the court of arthur, where there are the best and the noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou art perceval, the son of pelenore, and ask of him to bestow knighthood on thee. and whenever thou seest a church, repeat there thy pater- noster; and if thou see meat and drink, and hast need of them, thou mayest take them. if thou hear an outcry of one in distress, proceed toward it, especially if it be the cry of a woman, and render her what service thou canst. if thou see a fair jewel, win it, for thus shalt thou acquire fame; yet freely give it to another, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. if thou see a fair woman, pay court to her, for thus thou wilt obtain love." after this discourse perceval mounted the horse and taking a number of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand he rode forth. and he rode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. at last he came to an opening in the wood where he saw a tent, and as he thought it might be a church he said his pater-noster to it. and he went towards it; and the door of the tent was open. and perceval dismounted and entered the tent. in the tent he found a maiden sitting, with a golden frontlet on her forehead and a gold ring on her hand. and perceval said, "maiden, i salute you, for my mother told me whenever i met a lady i must respectfully salute her." perceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasks full of wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, "my mother told me, whenever i saw meat and drink to take it." and he ate greedily, for he was very hungry. the maiden said, "sir, thou hadst best go quickly from here, for fear that my friends should come, and evil should befall you." but perceval said, "my mother told me wheresoever i saw a fair jewel to take it," and he took the gold ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gave the maiden his own ring in exchange for hers; then he mounted his horse and rode away. perceval journeyed on till he arrived at arthur's court. and it so happened that just at that time an uncourteous knight had offered queen guenever a gross insult. for when her page was serving the queen with a golden goblet, this knight struck the arm of the page and dashed the wine in the queen's face and over her stomacher. then he said, "if any have boldness to avenge this insult to guenever, let him follow me to the meadow." so the knight took his horse and rode to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. and all the household hung down their heads and no one offered to follow the knight to take vengeance upon him. for it seemed to them that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage unless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, that none could be able to punish him. just then, behold, perceval entered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with his uncouth trappings. in the centre of the hall stood kay the seneschal. "tell me, tall man," said perceval, "is that arthur yonder?" "what wouldst thou with arthur?" asked kay. "my mother told me to go to arthur and receive knighthood from him." "by my faith," said he, "thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and with arms." then all the household began to jeer and laugh at him. but there was a certain damsel who had been a whole year at arthur's court, and had never been known to smile. and the king's fool [footnote: a fool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this romance was written. a fool was the ornament held in next estimation to a dwarf. he wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or bawble in his hand. though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as if there were a sort of oracular meaning in them.] had said that this damsel would not smile till she had seen him who would be the flower of chivalry. now this damsel came up to perceval and told him, smiling, that if he lived he would be one of the bravest and best of knights. "truly," said kay, "thou art ill taught to remain a year at arthur's court, with choice of society, and smile on no one, and now before the face of arthur and all his knights to call such a man as this the flower of knighthood;" and he gave her a box on the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. then said kay to perceval, "go after the knight who went hence to the meadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and possess thyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have knighthood." "i will do so, tall man," said perceval. so he turned his horse's head toward the meadow. and when he came there, the knight was riding up and down, proud of his strength and valor and noble mien. "tell me," said the knight, "didst thou see any one coming after me from the court?" "the tall man that was there," said perceval, "told me to come and overthrow thee, and to take from thee the goblet and thy horse and armor for myself." "silence!" said the knight; "go back to the court, and tell arthur either to come himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unless he do so quickly, i will not wait for him." "by my faith," said perceval, "choose thou whether it shall be willingly or unwillingly, for i will have the horse and the arms and the goblet." upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck him a violent blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck and the shoulder. "ha, ha, lad!" said perceval, "my mother's servants were not used to play with me in this wise; so thus will i play with thee." and he threw at him one of his sharp-pointed sticks, and it struck him in the eye, and came out at the back of his head, so that he fell down lifeless. "verily," said sir owain, the son of urien, to kay the seneschal, "thou wast ill-advised to send that madman after the knight, for he must either be overthrown or flee, and either way it will be a disgrace to arthur and his warriors; therefore will i go to see what has befallen him." so sir owain went to the meadow, and he found perceval trying in vain to get the dead knight's armor off, in order to clothe himself with it. sir owain unfastened the armor, and helped perceval to put it on, and taught him how to put his foot in the stirrup, and use the spur; for perceval had never used stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and urged on his horse with a stick. then owain would have had him return to the court to receive the praise that was his due; but perceval said, "i will not come to the court till i have encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the injury he did to the maiden. but take thou the goblet to queen guenever, and tell king arthur that, wherever i am, i will be his vassal, and will do him what profit and service i can." and sir owain went back to the court, and related all these things to arthur and guenever, and to all the household. and perceval rode forward. and he came to a lake on the side of which was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake he saw a hoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and his attendants were fishing in the lake. when the hoary-headed man beheld perceval approaching, he arose and went into the castle. perceval rode to the castle, and the door was open, and he entered the hall. and the hoary-headed man received perceval courteously, and asked him to sit by him on the cushion. when it was time the tables were set, and they went to meat. and when they had finished their meat the hoary-headed man asked perceval if he knew how to fight with the sword "i know not," said perceval, "but were i to be taught, doubtless i should." and the hoary-headed man said to him, "i am thy uncle, thy mother's brother; i am called king pecheur.[footnote: the word means both fisher and sinner.] thou shalt remain with me a space, in order to learn the manners and customs of different countries, and courtesy and noble bearing. and this do thou remember, if thou seest aught to cause thy wonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to inform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me that am thy teacher." while perceval and his uncle discoursed together, perceval beheld two youths enter the hall bearing a golden cup and a spear of mighty size, with blood dropping from its point to the ground. and when all the company saw this they began to weep and lament. but for all that, the man did not break off his discourse with perceval. and as he did not tell him the meaning of what he saw, he forebore to ask him concerning it. now the cup that perceval saw was the sangreal, and the spear the sacred spear; and afterwards king pecheur removed with those sacred relics into a far country. one evening perceval entered a valley, and came to a hermit's cell; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he spent the night. and in the morning he arose, and when he went forth, behold! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, and a hawk had killed a wild-fowl in front of the cell. and the noise of the horse had scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted on the bird. and perceval stood and compared the blackness of the raven and the whiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair of the lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and to her skin, which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spots upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow. now arthur and his household were in search of perceval, and by chance they came that way. "know ye," said arthur, "who is the knight with the long spear that stands by the brook up yonder?" "lord," said one of them, "i will go and learn who he is." so the youth came to the place where perceval was, and asked him what he did thus, and who he was. but perceval was so intent upon his thought that he gave him no answer. then the youth thrust at perceval with his lance; and perceval turned upon him, and struck him to the ground. and when the youth returned to the king, and told how rudely he had been treated, sir kay said, "i will go myself." and when he greeted perceval, and got no answer, he spoke to him rudely and angrily. and perceval thrust at him with his lance, and cast him down so that he broke his arm and his shoulder-blade. and while he lay thus stunned his horse returned back at a wild and prancing pace. then said sir gawain, surnamed the golden-tongued, because he was the most courteous knight in arthur's court: "it is not fitting that any should disturb an honorable knight from his thought unadvisedly; for either he is pondering some damage that he has sustained, or he is thinking of the lady whom best he loves. if it seem well to thee, lord, i will go and see if this knight has changed from his thought, and if he has, i will ask him courteously to come and visit thee." and perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the same thought, and sir gawain came to him, and said: "if i thought it would be as agreeable to thee as it would be to me, i would converse with thee. i have also a message from arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. and two men have been before on this errand." "that is true," said perceval; "and uncourteously they came. they attacked me, and i was annoyed thereat" then he told him the thought that occupied his mind, and gawain said, "this was not an ungentle thought, and i should marvel if it were pleasant for thee to be drawn from it." then said perceval, "tell me, is sir kay in arthur's court?" "he is," said gawain; "and truly he is the knight who fought with thee last." "verily," said perceval, "i am not sorry to have thus avenged the insult to the smiling maiden. "then perceval told him his name, and said, "who art thou?" and he replied, "i am gawain." "i am right glad to meet thee," said perceval, "for i have everywhere heard of thy prowess and uprightness; and i solicit thy fellowship." "thou shalt have it, by my faith; and grant me thine," said he. "gladly will i do so," answered perceval. so they went together to arthur, and saluted him. "behold, lord," said gawain, "him whom thou hast sought so long." "welcome unto thee, chieftain," said arthur. and hereupon there came the queen and her handmaidens, and perceval saluted them. and they were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. and arthur did him great honor and respect and they returned towards caerleon. chapter xix the sangreal, or holy graal the sangreal was the cup from which our saviour drank at his last supper. he was supposed to have given it to joseph of arimathea, who carried it to europe, together with the spear with which the soldier pierced the saviour's side. from generation to generation, one of the descendants of joseph of arimathea had been devoted to the guardianship of these precious relics; but on the sole condition of leading a life of purity in thought, word, and deed. for a long time the sangreal was visible to all pilgrims, and its presence conferred blessings upon the land in which it was preserved. but at length one of those holy men to whom its guardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of his sacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young female pilgrim whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt before him. the sacred lance instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him, and inflicting a deep wound. the marvellous wound could by no means be healed, and the guardian of the sangreal was ever after called "le roi pescheur,"--the sinner king. the sangreal withdrew its visible presence from the crowds who came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happiness which its presence had diffused among the tribes of britain. "but then the times grew to such evil that the holy cup was caught away to heaven and disappear'd." --the holy grail. we have told in the history of merlin how that great prophet and enchanter sent a message to king arthur by sir gawain, directing him to undertake the recovery of the sangreal, informing him at the same time that the knight who should accomplish that sacred quest was already born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it. sir gawain delivered his message, and the king was anxiously revolving in his mind how best to achieve the enterprise, when, at the vigil of pentecost, all the fellowship of the round table being met together at camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly there was heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright light burst forth, and every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw him, in seeming, fairer than ever before. all the hall was filled with sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. then there entered into the hall the holy graal, covered with white samite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall suddenly, and disappeared. during this time no one spoke a word, but when they had recovered breath to speak king arthur said, "certainly we ought greatly to thank the lord for what he hath showed us this day." then sir gawain rose up, and made a vow that for twelve months and a day he would seek the sangreal, and not return till he had seen it, if so he might speed. when they of the round table heard sir gawain say so, they arose, the most part of them, and vowed the same. when king arthur heard this, he was greatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not gainsay their vows. "alas!" said he to sir gawain, "you have nigh slain me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in any realm of the world; for when they shall depart hence, i am sure that all shall never meet more in this world." sir galahad at that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with him he brought a young knight, and these words he said: "peace be with you, fair lords." then the old man said unto king arthur, "sir, i bring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage, and of the kindred of joseph of arimathea, being the son of dame elaine, the daughter of king pelles, king of the foreign country." now the name of the young knight was sir galahad, and he was the son of sir launcelot du lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at the court of king pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enough to bear arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holy hermit to king arthur's court. then sir launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him. and sir bohort told his fellows, "upon my life, this young knight shall come to great worship." the noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. and she said, "i would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight, for so is his father." and the queen and her ladies all said that he resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that in the whole world men might not find his match. and king arthur said, "god make him a good man, for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth." then the hermit led the young knight to the siege perilous; and he lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, "this is the seat of sir galahad, the good knight;" and he made him sit in that seat. and all the knights of the round table marvelled greatly at sir galahad, seeing him sit securely in that seat, and said, "this is he by whom the sangreal shall be achieved, for there never sat one before in that seat without being mischieved." on the next day the king said, "now, at this quest of the sangreal shall all ye of the round table depart, and never shall i see you again altogether; therefore i will that ye all repair to the meadow of camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before ye depart." but all the meaning of the king was to see sir galahad proved. so then were they all assembled in the meadow. then sir galahad, by request of the king and queen, put on his harness and his helm, but shield would he take none for any prayer of the king. and the queen was in a tower, with all her ladies, to behold that tournament. then sir galahad rode into the midst of the meadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so that all men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that encountered with him, except two, sir launcelot and sir perceval. "so many knights, that all the people cried, and almost burst the barriers in their heat, shouting 'sir galahad and sir perceval!'" --sir galahad then the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, and presented him to the queen; and she said, "never two men resembled one another more than he and sir launcelot, and therefore it is no marvel that he is like him in prowess." then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knights followed them. and after the service was done they put on their helms and departed, and there was great sorrow. they rode through the streets of camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor; and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. and so they departed, and every knight took the way that him best liked. sir galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, and found no adventure. and on the fourth day he came to a white abbey; and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber. he met there two knights, king bagdemagus and sir uwaine, and they made of him great solace. "sirs," said sir galahad, "what adventure brought you hither?" "sir," said they, "it is told us that within this place is a shield, which no man may bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should attempt to bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief." then king bagdemagus said, "i fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see to- morrow." so on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then king bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. anon a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in the midst there was a red cross. then king bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the minster; and he said to sir galahad, "if it please you, abide here till ye know how i shall speed." then king bagdemagus and his squire rode forth: and when they had ridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them, in white armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest; and king bagdemagus directed his spear against him, and broke it upon the white knight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not, and so he bare him from his horse. then the white knight turned his horse and rode away. then the squire went to king bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not. "i am sore wounded," said he, "and full hardly shall i escape death." then the squire set him on his horse, and brought him to an abbey; and there he was taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was looked to, for he lay there long, and hardly escaped with his life. and the squire brought the shield back to the abbey. the next day sir galahad took the shield, and within a while he came to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and each saluted the other courteously. "sir," said sir galahad, "can you tell me the marvel of the shield?" "sir," said the white knight, "that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, joseph of arimathea; and when he came to die he said, 'never shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that sir galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds.'" and then the white knight vanished away. sir gawain after sir gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward and forward, and at last he came to the abbey where sir galahad took the white shield. and they told sir gawain of the marvellous adventure that sir galahad had done. "truly," said sir gawain, "i am not happy that i took not the way that he went, for, if i may meet with him, i will not part from him lightly, that i may partake with him all the marvellous adventures which he shall achieve." "sir," said one of the monks, "he will not be of your fellowship." "why?" said sir gawain. "sir," said he, "because ye be sinful, and he is blissful." then said the monk, "sir gawain, thou must do penance for thy sins." "sir, what penance shall i do?" "such as i will show," said the good man. "nay," said sir gawain, "i will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe and pain." "well," said the good man; and he held his peace. and sir gawain departed. now it happened, not long after this, that sir gawain and sir hector rode together, and they came to a castle where was a great tournament. and sir gawain and sir hector joined themselves to the party that seemed the weaker, and they drove before them the other party. then suddenly came into the lists a knight, bearing a white shield with a red cross, and by adventure he came by sir gawain, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and wounded his head, so that sir gawain fell to the earth. when sir hector saw that, he knew that the knight with the white shield was sir galahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. then sir galahad retired privily, so that none knew where he had gone. and sir hector raised up sir gawain, and said, "sir, me seemeth your quest is done." "it is done," said sir gawain; "i shall seek no further." then gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a rich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. and sir gawain and sir hector abode together, for sir hector would not away till sir gawain were whole. chapter xx the sangreal (continued) sir launcelot sir launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and held no path but as wild adventure lee him. "my golden spurs now bring to me, and bring to me my richest mail, for to-morrow i go over land and sea in search of the holy, holy grail shall never a bed for me be spread, nor shall a pillow be under my head, till i begin my vow to keep. here on the rushes will i sleep, and perchance there may come a vision true ere day create the world anew" --lowell's holy grail. and at last he came to a stone cross. then sir launcelot looked round him, and saw an old chapel. so he tied his horse to a tree, and put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree; and then he went into the chapel, and looked through a place where the wall was broken. and within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of silk; and there stood a fair candlestick, which bare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. when sir launcelot saw this sight, he had a great wish to enter the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. then was he passing heavy and dismayed. and he returned and came again to his horse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. and as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by him two palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, on which lay a sick knight. and when he was nigh the cross, he there abode still. and sir launcelot heard him say, "o sweet lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me whereby i shall be healed?" and thus a great while complained the knight, and sir launcelot heard it. then sir launcelot saw the candlestick, with the lighted tapers, come before the cross, but he could see nobody that brought it. also there came a salver of silver and the holy vessel of the sangreal; and therewithal the sick knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, "fair, sweet lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take heed to me, that i may be whole of this great malady." and therewith, upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it. and anon he was whole. then the holy vessel went into the chapel again, with the candlestick and the light, so that sir launcelot wist not what became of it. then the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross; and anon his squire brought him his arms and asked his lord how he did. "i thank god right heartily," said he, "for, through the holy vessel, i am healed. but i have great marvel of this sleeping knight, who hath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that the holy vessel hath been here present." "i dare it right well say," said the squire, "that this same knight is stained with some manner of deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed." so they departed. then anon sir launcelot waked, and set himself upright, and bethought him of what he had seen and whether it were dreams or not. and he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. and he said: "my sin and my wretchedness hath brought me into great dishonor. for when i sought worldly adventures and worldly desires, i ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was i discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. and now i take upon me the adventure of holy things, i see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me, so that i had no power to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared before me." so thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls of the air sing. then was he somewhat comforted. then he departed from the cross into the forest. and there he found a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to mass. so when mass was done sir launcelot called the hermit to him, and prayed him for charity to hear his confession. "with a good will," said the good man. and then he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably many years. "and all my great deeds of arms that i have done i did the most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake would i do battle, were it right or wrong, and never did i battle all only for god's sake, but for to win worship, and to cause me to be better beloved; and little or naught i thanked god for it. i pray you counsel me." "i will counsel you," said the hermit, "if ye will insure me that ye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may forbear." and then sir launcelot promised the hermit, by his faith, that he would no more come in her company. "look that your heart and your mouth accord," said the good man, "and i shall insure you that ye shall have more worship than ever ye had." then the good man enjoined sir launcelot such penance as he might do, and he assailed sir launcelot and made him abide with him all that day. and sir launcelot repented him greatly. sir perceval sir perceval departed and rode till the hour of noon; and he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. and when they saw sir perceval, they asked him whence he was; and he answered: "of the court of king arthur." then they cried all at once, "slay him." but sir perceval smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. so had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight sir galahad, with the red cross, come there by adventure. and when he saw all the knights upon one, he cried out, "save me that knight's life." then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. and when his spear was broken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, that it was marvel to see; and at every stroke he smote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and sir galahad followed them. and when sir perceval saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was slain. and he wist well it was sir galahad. then he cried aloud, "ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to do thanks unto thee; for right well have ye done for me." but sir galahad rode so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. when sir perceval saw that he would not turn, he said, "now am i a very wretch, and most unhappy above all other knights." so in his sorrow he abode all that day till it was night; and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then he awaked and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, "sir perceval, what dost thou here?" he answered, "i do neither good, nor great ill." "if thou wilt promise me," said she, "that thou wilt fulfil my will when i summon thee, i will lend thee my own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt." sir perceval was glad of her proffer, and insured her to fulfil all her desire. "then abide me here, and i will go fetch you a horse." and so she soon came again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black. when perceval beheld that horse he marvelled, it was so great and so well apparelled. and he leapt upon him and took no heed of himself. and he thrust him with his spurs, and within an hour and less he bare him four days' journey thence, until he came to a rough water, which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it. and when sir perceval came nigh the brim and saw the water so boisterous he doubted to overpass it. and then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead. when the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off sir perceval, and went into the water crying and roaring; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. then sir perceval perceived it was a fiend that would have brought him unto his perdition. then he commended himself unto god, and prayed our lord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that night till it was day. then he saw that he was in a wild place, that was closed with the sea nigh all about. and sir perceval looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards him; and it came and stood still under the rock. and when sir perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the ship covered with silk; and therein was a lady of great beauty, and clothed so richly that none might be better. and when she saw sir perceval, she saluted him, and sir perceval returned her salutation. then he asked her of her country and her lineage. and she said, "i am a gentlewoman that am disinherited, and was once the richest woman of the world." "damsel," said sir perceval, "who hath disinherited you? for i have great pity of you." "sir," said she, "my enemy is a great and powerful lord, and aforetime he made much of me, so that of his favor and of my beauty i had a little pride more than i ought to have had. also i said a word that pleased him not. so he drove me from his company and from mine heritage. therefore i know no good knight nor good man, but i get him on my side if i may. and for that i know that thou art a good knight, i beseech thee to help me." then sir perceval promised her all the help that he might, and she thanked him. and at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her a gentlewoman, and bade her bring forth a pavilion. and she did so, and pitched it upon the gravel. "sir," said she, "now may ye rest you in this heat of the day." then he thanked her, and she put off his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. then he awoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said yea, and so there was set upon the table all manner of meats that he could think on. also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he drank, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought to be. with that he beheld the lady, and he thought she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. and then sir perceval proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his. then she refused him in a manner, for the cause he should be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. and when she saw him well enchafed, then she said, "sir perceval, wit you well i shall not give ye my love, unless you swear from henceforth you will be my true servant, and do no thing but that i shall command you. will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?" "yea," said he, "fair lady, by the faith of my body." and as he said this, by adventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross, and the sign of the crucifix thereon. then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and therewith the pavilion shrivelled up, and changed into a smoke and a black cloud. and the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the ship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that it seemed all the water burned after her. then sir perceval made great sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, "how nigh was i lost!" then he took his arms, and departed thence. chapter xxi the sangreal (continued) sir bohort when sir boliort departed from camelot he met with a religious man, riding upon an ass; and sir bohort saluted him. "what are ye?" said the good man. "sir," said sir bohort, "i am a knight that fain would be counselled in the quest of the sangreal." so rode they both together till they came to a hermitage; and there he prayed sir bohort to dwell that night with him. so he alighted, and put away his armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed. and they went both into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed. and they ate bread and drank water together. "now," said the good man, "i pray thee that thou eat none other till thou sit at the table where the sangreal shall be." "sir," said sir bohort, "but how know ye that i shall sit there?" "yea," said the good man, "that i know well; but there shall be few of your fellows with you." then said sir bohort, "i agree me thereto" and the good man when he had heard his confession found him in so pure a life and so stable that he marvelled thereof. on the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, sir bohort departed thence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. and there befell him a marvellous adventure. for he met, at the parting of two ways, two knights that led sir lionel, his brother, all naked, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before his breast; and each of them held in his hand thorns wherewith they went beating him, so that he was all bloody before and behind; but he said never a word, but, as he was great of heart, he suffered all that they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. sir bohort prepared to rescue his brother. but he looked on the other side of him, and saw a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, "saint mary! succor your maid!" and when she saw sir bohort, she called to him, and said, "by the faith that ye owe to knighthood, help me!" when sir bohort heard her say thus he had such sorrow that he wist not what to do. "for if i let my brother be he must be slain, and that would i not for all the earth; and if i help not the maid i am shamed for ever." then lift he up his eyes and said, weeping, "fair lord, whose liegeman i am, keep sir lionel, my brother, that none of these knights slay him, and for pity of you, and our lady's sake, i shall succor this maid." then he cried out to the knight, "sir knight, lay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead." then the knight set down the maid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. and sir bohort smote him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon, on the left shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. then came sir bohort to the maid, "ye be delivered of this knight this time." "now," said she, "i pray you lead me there where this knight took me." "i shall gladly do it," said sir bohort. so he took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon it, and brought her there where she desired to be. and there he found twelve knights seeking after her; and when she told them how sir bohort had delivered her, they made great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcomed. "truly," said sir bohort, "that may not be; for i have a great adventure to do." so he commended them to god and departed. then sir bohort rode after sir lionel, his brother, by the trace of their horses. thus he rode seeking, a great while. then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, "sir knight, what seek ye?" "sir," said sir bohort, "i seek my brother, that i saw within a little space beaten of two knights." "ah, sir bohort, tiouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he is dead." then he showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush; and it seemed him that it was the body of sir lionel. and then he made such sorrow that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long. and when he came to himself again, he said, "fair brother, since the fellowship of you and me is sundered, shall i never have joy again; and now he that i have taken for my master, he be my help!" and when he had said thus he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon the horse. and then he said to the man, "canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where i may bury this body?" "come on," said the man, "here is one fast by." and so they rode till they saw a fair tower, and beside it a chapel. then they alighted both, and put the body into a tomb of marble. then sir bohort commended the good man unto god, and departed. and he rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. and on the morrow he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman. "tell me," said sir bohort, "knowest thou of any adventure?" "sir," said he, "here shall be, under this castle, a great and marvellous tournament." then sir bohort thought to be there, if he might meet with any of the fellowship that were in quest of the sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on the border of the forest. and when he was come hither, he found there sir lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of the chapel door. and when sir bohort saw him, he had great joy, and he alighted off his horse, and said. "fair brother, when came ye hither?" as soon as sir lionel saw him he said, "ah, sir bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, i might have been slain, for ye left me in peril of death to go succor a gentlewoman; and for that misdeed i now assure you but death, for ye have right well deserved it." when sir bohort perceived his brother's wrath he kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him. "nay," said sir lionel, "thou shalt have but death for it, if i have the upper hand; therefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself, and if thou do not i will run upon thee there as thou standest on foot, and so the shame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that i reck not." when sir bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or else die, he wist not what to do. then his heart counselled him not so to do, inasmuch as sir lionel was his elder brother, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence. yet kneeled he down before sir lionel's horse's feet, and said, "fair brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not." but sir lionel cared not, for the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. when he saw that sir bohort would not rise to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, and hurt him sore, that he swooned of distress. when sir lionel saw this he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head; and so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from his head. but it happened that sir colgrevance, a knight of the round table, came at that time thither, as it was our lord's will; and then he beheld how sir lionel would have slain his brother, and he knew sir bohort, whom he loved right well. then leapt he down from his horse and took sir lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly back from sir bohort, and said, "sir lionel, will ye slay your brother?" "why," said sir lionel, "will ye stay me? if ye interfere in this i will slay you, and him after." then he ran upon sir bohort, and would have smitten him; but sir colgrevance ran between them, and said, "if ye persist to do so any more, we two shall meddle together." then sir lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. then he drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended himself right manfully. so long endured the battle, that sir bohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld sir colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought that if sir colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slew sir colgrevance the shame should ever be his. then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had not so much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long that sir colgrevance had the worse; for sir lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy. then cried sir colgrevance, "ah, sir bohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of death, wherein i have put me to succor you?" with that, sir lionel smote off his helm and bore him to the earth. and when he had slain sir colgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop. and he that was full of humility prayed him, "for god's sake leave this battle, for if it befell, fair brother, that i slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of that sin." "pray ye not me for mercy," said sir lionel. then sir bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, "now god have mercy upon me, though i defend my life against my brother." with that sir bohort lifted up his sword, and would have smitten his brother. then he heard a voice that said, "flee, sir bohort, and touch him not." right so alighted a cloud between them, in the likeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that they both fell to the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. and when they came to themselves, sir bohort saw that his brother had no harm; and he was right glad, for he dread sore that god had taken vengeance upon him. then sir lionel said to his brother, "brother, forgive me, for god's sake, all that i have trespassed against you." and sir bohort answered, "god forgive it thee, and i do." with that sir bohort heard a voice say, "sir bohort, take thy way anon, right to the sea, for sir perceval abideth thee there." so sir bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. and at last he came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. that night he rested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him and bade him go to the sea-shore. he started up, and made a sign of the cross on his forehead, and armed himself, and made ready his horse and mounted him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and came to the sea-shore. and there he found a ship, covered all with white samite. and he entered into the ship; but it was anon so dark that he might see no man, and he laid him down and slept till it was day. then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship a knight all armed, save his helm. and then he knew it was sir perceval de galis, and each made of other right great joy. then said sir perceval, "we lack nothing now but the good knight sir galahad." sir launcelot (resumed) it befell upon a night sir launcelot arrived before a castle, which was rich and fair. and there was a postern that was opened toward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shined clear. anon sir launcelot heard a voice that said, "launcelot, enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." so he went unto the gate, and saw the two lions; then he set hands to his sword, and drew it. then there came suddenly as it were a stroke upon the arm, so sore that the sword fell out of his hand, and he heard a voice that said, "o man of evil faith, wherefore believest thou more in thy armor than in thy maker?" then said sir launcelot, "fair lord, i thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed; now see i well that thou holdest me for thy servant." then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to the lions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed them without hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gate nor door but it was open. but at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to have opened it, but he might not. then he listened, and heard a voice which sung so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and the voice said, "joy and honor be to the father of heaven." then sir launcelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist that there was the sangreal in that chamber. then said he, "fair, sweet lord, if ever i did anything that pleased thee, for thy pity show me something of that which i seek." and with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as though all the torches of the world had been there. so he came to the chamber door, and would have entered; and anon a voice said unto him, "stay, sir launcelot, and enter not." and he withdrew him back, and was right heavy in his mind. then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many angels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and another held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. "o, yet methought i saw the holy grail, all pall'd in crimson samite, and around great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes" --the holy grail. then for very wonder and thankfulness sir launcelot forgot himself and he stepped forward and entered the chamber. and suddenly a breath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in the visage that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power to rise. then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to all the people. so on the morrow, when it was fair daylight, and they within were arisen, they found sir launcelot lying before the chamber door. and they looked upon him and felt his pulse, to know if there were any life in him. and they found life in him, but he might neither stand nor stir any member that he had. so they took him and bare him into a chamber, and laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there he lay many days. then the one said he was alive, and the others said nay. but said an old man, "he is as full of life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore i counsel you that he be well kept till god bring him back again." and after twenty-four days he opened his eyes; and when he saw folk he made great sorrow, and said, "why have ye wakened me? for i was better at ease than i am now." "what have ye seen?" said they about him. "i have seen," said he, "great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart can think." then they said, "sir, the quest of the sangreal is achieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more of it than ye have seen." "i thank god," said sir launcelot, "of his great mercy, for that i have seen, for it sufficeth me." then he rose up and clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed they marvelled all, for they knew it was sir launcelot the good knight. and after four days he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and of all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their great labor and care of him. then he departed, and turned to camelot, where he found king arthur and queen guenever; but many of the knights of the round table were slain and destroyed, more than half. then all the court was passing glad of sir launcelot; and he told the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he departed. sir galahad now, when sir galahad had rescued perceval from the twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days. then he took his way to the sea, and it befell him that he was benighted in a hermitage. and the good man was glad when he saw he was a knight-errant. and when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door; and the good man came to the door to wit what she would. then she said, "i would speak with the knight which is with you." then galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. "sir galahad," said she, "i will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me; for i will show you the highest adventure that ever knight saw." then galahad armed himself and commended himself to god, and bade the damsel go before, and he would follow where she led. so she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she came to the sea; and there they found the ship where sir bohort and sir perceval were, who cried from the ship, "sir galahad, you are welcome; we have waited you long." and when he heard them, he asked the damsel who they were. "sir," said she, "leave your horse here, and i shall leave mine, and we will join ourselves to their company." so they entered into the ship, and the two knights received them both with great joy. for they knew the damsel, that she was sir perceval's sister. then the wind arose and drove them through the sea all that day and the next, till the ship arrived between two rocks, passing great and marvellous; but there they might not land, for there was a whirlpool; but there was another ship, and upon it they might go without danger. "go we thither," said the gentlewoman, "and there we shall see adventures, for such is our lord's will." then sir galahad blessed him, and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then sir bohort and sir perceval. and when they came on board they found there the table of silver, and the sangreal, which was covered with red samite. and they made great reverence thereto, and sir galahad prayed a long time to our lord, that at what time he should ask to pass out of this world he should do so; and a voice said to him, "galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest the death of thy body, thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life of thy soul." and anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to the city of sarras. then took they out of the ship the table of silver, and sir perceval and sir bohort took it before, and sir galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city. and at the gate of the city they saw an old man, a cripple. "and sir launfal said, 'i behold in thee an image of him who died on the tree thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns; and to thy life were not denied the wounds in thy hands and feet and side mild mary's son, acknowledge me; behold, through him i give to thee!'" --lowell's holy grail. then galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavy thing. "truly," said the old man, "it is ten years since i could not go but with crutches." "care thou not," said sir galahad, "but arise up, and show thy good will." then the old man rose up, and assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was; and he ran to the table, and took one part with sir galahad. when they came to the city it chanced that the king was just dead, and all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king. right so, as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of those three to be their king. so they made sir galahad king, by all the assent of the city. and when he was made king, he commanded to make a chest of gold and of precious stones to hold the holy vessel. and every day the three companions would come before it and make their prayers. now at the year's end, and the same day of the year that sir galahad received the crown, he got up early, and, with his fellows, came to where the holy vessel was; and they saw one kneeling before it that had about him a great fellowship of angels; and he called sir galahad, and said, "come, thou servant of the lord, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired to see." and sir galahad's mortal flesh trembled right hard when he began to behold the spiritual things. then said the good man, "now wottest thou who i am?" "nay," said sir galahad. "i am joseph of arimathea, whom our lord hath sent here to thee, to bear thee fellowship." then sir galahad held up his hands toward heaven, and said, "now, blessed lord, would i not longer live, if it might please thee." and when he had said these words, sir galahad went to sir perceval and to sir bohort and kissed them, and commended them to god. and then he kneeled down before the table, and made his prayers, and suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, so as the two fellows could well behold it. also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they saw not the body; and the hand came right to the vessel and bare it up to heaven. since then was there never one so hardy as to say that he had seen the sangreal on earth any more. chapter xxii sir agrivain's treason when sir perceval and sir bohort saw sir galahad dead they made as much sorrow as ever did two men. and if they had not been good men they might have fallen into despair. as soon as sir galahad was buried sir perceval retired to a hermitage out of the city, and took a religious clothing; and sir bohort was always with him, but did not change his secular clothing, because he purposed to return to the realm of loegria. thus a year and two months lived sir perceval in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world, and sir bohort buried him by his sister and sir galahad. then sir bohort armed himself and departed from sarras, and entered into a ship, and sailed to the kingdom of loegria, and in due time arrived safe at camelot, where the king was. then was there great joy made of him in the whole court, for they feared he had been dead. then the king made great clerks to come before him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. and sir bohort told him of the adventures that had befallen him, and his two fellows, sir perceval and sir galahad. and sir launcelot told the adventures of the sangreal that he had seen. all this was made in great books, and put up in the church at salisbury. so king arthur and queen guenever made great joy of the remnant that were come home, and chiefly of sir launcelot and sir bohort. then sir launcelot began to resort unto queen guenever again, and forgot the promise that he made in the quest: so that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial sir agrivain, sir gawain's brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. so it happened sir gawain and all his brothers were in king arthur's chamber, and then sir agrivain said thus openly, "i marvel that we all are not ashamed to see and to know so noble a knight as king arthur so to be shamed by the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen. "then spoke sir gawain, and said, "brother, sir agrivain, i pray you and charge you move not such matters any more before me, for be ye assured i will not be of your counsel." "neither will we," said sir gaheris and sir gareth. "then will i," said sir modred. "i doubt you not," said sir gawain, "for to all mischief ever were ye prone; yet i would that ye left all this, for i know what will come of it." "modred's narrow foxy face, heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye: henceforward, too, the powers that tend the soul to help it from the death that cannot die, and save it even in extremes, began to vex and plague." --guinevere. "fall of it what fall may," said sir agrivain, "i will disclose it to the king." with that came to them king arthur. "now, brothers, hold your peace," said sir gawain. "we will not," said sir agrivain. then said sir gawain, "i will not hear your tales nor be of your counsel." "no more will i," said sir gareth and sir gaheris, and therewith they departed, making great sorrow. then sir agrivain told the king all that was said in the court of the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen, and it grieved the king very much. but he would not believe it to be true without proof. so sir agrivain laid a plot to entrap sir launcelot and the queen, intending to take them together unawares. sir agrivain and sir modred led a party for this purpose, but sir launcelot escaped from them, having slain sir agrivain and wounded sir modred. then sir launcelot hastened to his friends, and told them what had happened, and withdrew with them to the forest; but he left spies to bring him tidings of whatever might be done. so sir launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the king's power, and arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. and the law was such in those days that they who committed such crimes, of what estate or condition soever they were, must be burned to death, and so it was ordained for queen guenever. then said king arthur to sir gawain, "i pray you make you ready, in your best armor, with your brethren, sir gaheris and sir gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to receive her death." "nay, my most noble lord," said sir gawain, "that will i never do; for know thou well, my heart will never serve me to see her die, and it shall never be said that i was of your counsel in her death." then the king commanded sir gaheris and sir gareth to be there, and they said, "we will be there, as ye command us, sire, but in peaceable wise, and bear no armor upon us." so the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was brought to her to shrive her, and there was weeping and wailing of many lords and ladies. and one went and told sir launcelot that the queen was led forth to her death. then sir launcelot and the knights that were with him fell upon the troop that guarded the queen, and dispersed them, and slew all who withstood them. and in the confusion sir gareth and sir gaheris were slain, for they were unarmed and defenceless. and sir launcelot carried away the queen to his castle of la joyeuse garde. then there came one to sir gawain and told him how that sir launcelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. "o lord, defend my brethren!" said sir gawain. "truly," said the man, "sir gareth and sir gaheris are slain." "alas!" said sir gawain, "now is my joy gone." and then he fell down and swooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. when he arose out of his swoon sir gawain ran to the king, crying, "o king arthur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain." then the king wept and he both. "my king, my lord, and mine uncle," said sir gawain, "bear witness now that i make you a promise that i shall hold by my knighthood, and from this day i will never fail sir launcelot until the one of us have slain the other. i will seek sir launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but i shall slay him or he shall slay me." "ye shall not need to seek him," said the king, "for as i hear, sir launcelot will abide me and you in the joyeuse garde; and much people draweth unto him, as i hear say." "that may i believe," said sir gawain; "but, my lord, summon your friends, and i will summon mine." "it shall be done," said the king. so then the king sent letters and writs throughout all england, both in the length and breadth, to summon all his knights. and unto arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he had a great host. thereof heard sir launcelot, and collected all whom he could; and many good knights held with him, both for his sake and for the queen's sake. but king arthur's host was too great for sir launcelot to abide him in the field; and he was full loath to do battle against the king. so sir launcelot drew him to his strong castle, with all manner of provisions. then came king arthur with sir gawain, and laid siege all about la joyeuse garde, both the town and the castle; but in no wise would sir launcelot ride out of his castle, neither suffer any of his knights to issue out, until many weeks were past. then it befell upon a day in harvest-time, sir launcelot looked over the wall, and spoke aloud to king arthur and sir gawain, "my lords both, all is in vain that ye do at this siege, for here ye shall win no worship, but only dishonor; for if i list to come out, and my good knights, i shall soon make an end of this war." "come forth," said arthur, "if thou darest, and i promise thee i shall meet thee in the midst of the field." "god forbid me," said sir launcelot, "that i should encounter with the most noble king that made me knight." "fie upon thy fair language," said the king, "for know thou well i am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to my dying day." and sir gawain said, "what cause hadst thou to slay my brother, sir gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and sir gareth, whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than all my kin? therefore know thou well i shall make war to thee all the while that i may live." when sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, and sir lionel heard this outcry, they called to them sir palamedes, and sir saffire his brother, and sir lawayn, with many more, and all went to sir launcelot. and they said, "my lord, sir launcelot, we pray you, if you will have our service keep us no longer within these walls, for know well all your fair speech and forbearance will not avail you." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "to ride forth and to do battle i am full loath." then he spake again unto the king and sir gawain, and willed them to keep out of the battle; but they despised his words. so then sir launcelot's fellowship came out of the castle in full good array. and always sir launcelot charged all his knights, in any wise, to save king arthur and sir gawain. then came forth sir gawain from the king's host and offered combat, and sir lionel encountered with him, and there sir gawain smote sir lionel through the body, that he fell to the earth as if dead. then there began a great conflict, and much people were slain; but ever sir launcelot did what he might to save the people on king arthur's party, and ever king arthur followed sir launcelot to slay him; but sir launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again. then sir bohort encountered with king arthur, and smote him down; and he alighted and drew his sword, and said to sir launcelot, "shall i make an end of this war?" for he meant to have slain king arthur. "not so," said sir launcelot, "touch him no more, for i will never see that most noble king that made me knight either slain or shamed;" and therewith sir launcelot alighted off his horse, and took up the king, and horsed him again, and said thus: "my lord arthur, for god's love, cease this strife." and king arthur looked upon sir launcelot, and the tears burst from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was in sir launcelot more than in any other man; and therewith the king rode his way. then anon both parties withdrew to repose them, and buried the dead. but the war continued, and it was noised abroad through all christendom, and at last it was told afore the pope; and he, considering the great goodness of king arthur, and of sir launcelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the bishop of rochester, who was then in his dominions, and sent him to king arthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame guenever, unto him again, and make peace with sir launcelot. so, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of one year; and king arthur received back the queen, and sir launcelot departed from the kingdom with all his knights, and went to his own country. so they shipped at cardiff, and sailed unto benwick, which some men call bayonne. and all the people of those lands came to sir launcelot, and received him home right joyfully. and sir launcelot stablished and garnished all his towns and castles, and he greatly advanced all his noble knights, sir lionel and sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, sir blamor, sir lawayne, and many others, and made them lords of lands and castles; till he left himself no more than any one of them. "then arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights from the four winds came in: and each one sat, tho' served with choice from air, land, stream and sea, oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes his neighbor's make and might." --pelleas and ettarre. but when the year was passed, king arthur and sir gawain came with a great host, and landed upon sir launcelot's lands, and burned and wasted all that they might overrun. then spake sir bohort and said, "my lord, sir launcelot, give us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall make them rue the time that ever they came to this country." then said sir launcelot, "i am full loath to ride out with my knights for shedding of christian blood; so we will yet a while keep our walls, and i will send a messenger unto my lord arthur, to propose a treaty; for better is peace than always war." so sir launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring king arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and so she started on a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. and when she came to the pavilion of king arthur, she alighted, and there met her a gentle knight, sir lucan, the butler, and said, "fair damsel, come ye from sir launcelot du lac?" "yea, sir," she said, "i come hither to speak with the king." "alas!" said sir lucan, "my lord arthur would be reconciled to sir launcelot, but sir gawain will not suffer him." and with this sir lucan led the damsel to the king, where he sat with sir gawain, to hear what she would say. so when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of the king's eyes; and all the lords were forward to advise the king to be accorded with sir launcelot, save only sir gawain; and he said, "my lord, mine uncle, what will ye do? will you now turn back, now you are so far advanced upon your journey? if ye do all the world will speak shame of you." "nay," said king arthur, "i will do as ye advise me; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for i may not speak to her for pity." then said sir gawain, "damsel, say ye to sir launcelot, that it is waste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that i, sir gawain, send him word that i promise him, by the faith i owe unto god and to knighthood, i shall never leave him till he have slain me or i him." so the damsel returned; and when sir launcelot had heard this answer the tears ran down his cheeks. then it befell on a day sir gawain came before the gates, armed at all points, and cried with a loud voice, "where art thou now, thou false traitor, sir launcelot? why hidest thou thyself within holes and walls like a coward? look out now, thou traitor knight, and i will avenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren." all this language heard sir launcelot, and the knights which were about him; and they said to him, "sir launcelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else be shamed for ever, for you have slept overlong and suffered overmuch." then sir launcelot spake on high unto king arthur, and said, "my lord arthur, now i have forborne long, and suffered you and sir gawain to do what ye would, and now must i needs defend myself, inasmuch as sir gawain hath appealed me of treason." then sir launcelot armed him and mounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of the city, and the host without stood all apart; and so the covenant was made that no man should come near the two knights, nor deal with them, till one were dead or yielded. then sir launcelot and sir gawain departed a great way asunder, and then they came together with all their horses' might, and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, but neither of them was unhorsed, but their horses fell to the earth. and then they leapt from their horses, and drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, so that the blood burst out in many places. now sir gawain had this gift from a holy man, that every day in the year, from morning to noon, his strength was increased threefold, and then it fell again to its natural measure. sir launcelot was aware of this, and therefore, during the three hours that sir gawain's strength was at the height, sir launcelot covered himself with his shield, and kept his might in reserve. and during that time sir gawain gave him many sad brunts, that all the knights that looked on marvelled how sir launcelot might endure them. then, when it was past noon, sir gawain had only his own might; and when sir launcelot felt him so brought down he stretched himself up, and doubled his strokes, and gave sir gawain such a buffet that he fell down on his side; and sir launcelot drew back and would strike no more. "why withdrawest thou, false traitor?" then said sir gawain; "now turn again and slay me, for if thou leave me thus when i am whole again, i shall do battle with thee again." "i shall endure you, sir, by god's grace," said sir launcelot, "but know thou well sir gawain, i will never smite a felled knight." and so sir launcelot went into the city, and sir gawain was borne into king arthur's pavilion, and his wounds were looked to. thus the siege endured, and sir gawain lay helpless near a month; and when he was near recovered came tidings unto king arthur that made him return with all his host to england. chapter xxiii morte d'arthur sir modred was left ruler of all england, and he caused letters to be written, as if from beyond sea, that king arthur was slain in battle. so he called a parliament, and made himself be crowned king; and he took the queen guenever, and said plainly that he would wed her, but she escaped from him and took refuge in the tower of london. and sir modred went and laid siege about the tower of london, and made great assaults thereat, but all might not avail him. then came word to sir modred that king arthur had raised the siege of sir launcelot, and was coming home. then sir modred summoned all the barony of the land; and much people drew unto sir modred, and said they would abide with him for better and for worse; and he drew a great host to dover, for there he heard say that king arthur would arrive. "i hear the steps of modred in the west, and with him many of thy people, and knights once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee" --the passing of arthur. and as sir modred was at dover with his host, came king arthur, with a great number of ships and galleys, and there was sir modred awaiting upon the landing. then was there launching of great boats and small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much slaughter of gentle knights on both parts. but king arthur was so courageous, there might no manner of knights prevent him to land, and his knights fiercely followed him; and so they landed, and put sir modred aback so that he fled, and all his people. and when the battle was done, king arthur commanded to bury his people that were dead. and then was noble sir gawain found, in a great boat, lying more than half dead. and king arthur went to him, and made sorrow out of measure. "mine uncle," said sir gawain, "know thou well my death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and wilfulness, for i am smitten upon the old wound which sir launcelot gave me, of which i feel i must die. and had sir launcelot been with you as of old, this war had never begun, and of all this i am the cause." then sir gawain prayed the king to send for sir launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. and so at the hour of noon sir gawain yielded up his spirit, and then the king bade inter him in a chapel within dover castle; and there all men may see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that sir launcelot gave him in battle. then was it told the king that sir modred had pitched his camp upon barrendown; and the king rode thither, and there was a great battle betwixt them, and king arthur's party stood best, and sir modred and his party fled unto canterbury. and there was a day assigned betwixt king arthur and sir modred that they should meet upon a down beside salisbury, and not far from the sea-side, to do battle yet again. and at night, as the king slept, he dreamed a wonderful dream. it seemed him verily that there came sir gawain unto him, with a number of fair ladies with him. and when king arthur saw him, he said, "welcome, my sister's son; i weened thou hadst been dead; and now i see thee alive great is my joy. but, o fair nephew, what be these ladies that hither be come with you?" "sir," said sir gawain, "all these be ladies for whom i have fought when i was a living man; and because i did battle for them in righteous quarrel they have given me grace to bring me hither unto you to warn you of your death, if ye fight to-morrow with sir modred. therefore take ye treaty, and proffer you largely for a month's delay; for within a month shall come sir launcelot and all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and slay sir modred and all that hold with him." and then sir gawain and all the ladies vanished. and anon the king called to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. and when they were come, the king told them his vision, and what sir gawain had told him. then the king sent sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise to take a treaty for a month and a day with sir modred. so they departed, and came to sir modred; and so, at the last, sir modred was agreed to have cornwall and kent during arthur's life, and all england after his death. "sir modred; he the nearest to the king, his nephew, ever like a subtle beast lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, ready to spring, waiting a chance." --guinevere then was it agreed that king arthur and sir modred should meet betwixt both their hosts, and each of them should bring fourteen persons, and then and there they should sign the treaty. and when king arthur and his knights were prepared to go forth, he warned all his host, "if so be ye see any sword drawn, look ye come on fiercely, and slay whomsoever withstandeth, for i in no wise trust that traitor, sir modred." in like wise sir modred warned his host. so they met, and were agreed and accorded thoroughly. and wine was brought, and they drank. right then came an adder out of a little heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. and when the knight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm. and when the host on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blew trumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. and king arthur took his horse, and rode to his party, saying, "alas, this unhappy day!" and sir modred did in like wise. and never was there a more doleful battle in christian land. and ever king arthur rode throughout the battle, and did full nobly, as a worthy king should, and sir modred that day did his devoir, and put himself in great peril. and thus they fought all the long day, till the most of all the noble knights lay dead upon the ground. then the king looked about him, and saw of all his host were left alive but two knights, sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, his brother, and they were full sore wounded. then king arthur saw where sir modred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. "now give me my spear," said arthur unto sir lucan; "for yonder i espy the traitor that hast wrought all this woe." "sir, let him be," said sir lucan; "for if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well revenged upon him. remember what the sprite of sir gawain told you, and leave off now, for ye have won the field; and if ye leave off now this evil day of destiny is past." "betide me life, betide me death," said king arthur, "he shall not now escape my hands." then the king took his spear in both hands, and ran toward sir modred, crying, "traitor, now is thy death-day come." and there king arthur smote sir modred under the shield, with a thrust of his spear through the body. and when sir modred felt that he had his death-wound, with the might that he had he smote king arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan; and then sir modred fell stark dead upon the earth. and the noble arthur fell in a swoon to the earth. and sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere raised him up, and gently led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far from the sea-side. and when the king was there he thought him well eased. then heard they people cry in the field. and sir lucan went to see what that cry betokened; and he saw by the moonlight that pillers and robbers were come to rob the dead. and he returned, and said to the king, "by my rede, it is best that we bring you to some town." "i would it were so," said the king. and when the king tried to go he fainted. then sir lucan took up the king on the one part, and sir bedivere on the other part; and in the lifting, sir lucan fell in a swoon to the earth, for he was grievously wounded. and then the noble knight's heart burst. and when the king awoke he beheld sir lucan how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speechless. "alas!" said the king, "this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake; for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than i, and he would not complain, his heart was so set to help me." then sir bedivere wept for his brother. "leave this mourning and weeping," said the king, "for wilt thou well, if i might live myself, the death of sir lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast. therefore," said arthur unto sir bedivere, "take thou excalibar, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water-side; and when thou comest there i charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou there seest." "my lord," said sir bedivere, "your commandment shall be done." so sir bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft were all of precious stones; and then he said to himself, "if i throw this rich sword into the water no good shall come thereof, but only harm and loss." and then sir bedivere hid excalibar under a tree. and so, as soon as he might, he came again to the king. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing." "alas! thou hast deceived me," said the king. "go thou lightly again, and as thou love me, spare not to throw it in." then sir bedivere went again, and took the sword in his hand to throw it; but again it beseemed him but sin and shame to throw away that noble sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, and told the king he had done his commandment. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing but waters deep and waves wan." "ah, traitor untrue!" said king arthur, "now hast thou betrayed me twice. and yet thou art named a noble knight, and hast been lief and dear to me. but now go again, and do as i bid thee, for thy long tarrying putteth me in jeopardy of my life." then sir bedivere went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water-side, and he bound the girdle about the hilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might. and there came an arm and a hand out of the water, and met it, and caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water. then sir bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he saw. "help me hence," said the king, "for i fear i have tarried too long." then sir bedivere took the king on his back, and so went with him to that water-side; and when they came there, even fast by the bank there rode a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them was a queen; and all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they saw king arthur. "now put me in the barge," said the king. and there received him three queens with great mourning, and in one of their laps king arthur laid his head. and the queen said, "ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long? alas! this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold." and then they rowed from the land, and sir bedivere beheld them go from him. then he cried: "ah, my lord arthur, will ye leave me here alone among mine enemies?" "comfort thyself," said the king, "for in me is no further help; for i will to the isle of avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound." and as soon as sir bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept and wailed; then he took the forest, and went all that night, and in the morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage. then went sir bedivere thither; and when he came into the chapel, he saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb that was newly graven. "sir," said sir bedivere, "what man is there buried that ye pray so near unto?" "fair son," said the hermit, "i know not verily. but this night there came a number of ladies, and brought hither one dead, and prayed me to bury him." "alas!" said sir bedivere, "that was my lord, king arthur." then sir bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him, to live with fasting and prayers. "ye are welcome," said the hermit. so there bode sir bedivere with the hermit; and he put on poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in prayers. thus of arthur i find never more written in books that be authorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but thus was he led away in a ship, wherein were three queens; the one was king arthur's sister, queen morgane le fay; the other was viviane, the lady of the lake; and the third was the queen of north galis. and this tale sir bedivere, knight of the table round, made to be written. yet some men say that king arthur is not dead, but hid away into another place, and men say that he shall come again and reign over england. but many say that there is written on his tomb this verse: "hie facet arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus." here arthur lies, king once and king to be. and when queen guenever understood that king arthur was slain, and all the noble knights with him, she stole away, and five ladies with her; and so she went to almesbury, and made herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and took great penance as ever did sinful lady, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds. and there she was abbess and ruler of the nuns. "and when she came to almesbury she spake there to the nuns, and said, 'mine enemies pursue me, but, o peaceful sisterhood, receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask her name to whom ye yield it, till her time to tell you;' and her beauty, grace and power wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared to ask it." --guinevere. now turn we from her, and speak of sir launcelot of the lake. when sir launcelot heard in his country that sir modred was crowned king of england, and made war against his own uncle, king arthur, then was sir launcelot wroth out of measure, and said to his kinsmen: "alas, that double traitor, sir modred! now it repenteth me that ever he escaped out of my hands." then sir launcelot and his fellows made ready in all haste, with ships and galleys, to pass into england; and so he passed over till he came to dover, and there he landed with a great army. then sir launcelot was told that king arthur was slain. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "this is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me." then he called the kings, dukes, barons, and knights, and said thus: "my fair lords, i thank you all for coming into this country with me, but we came too late, and that shall repent me while i live. but since it is so," said sir launcelot, "i will myself ride and seek my lady, queen guenever, for i have heard say she hath fled into the west; therefore ye shall abide me here fifteen days, and if i come not within that time, then take your ships and your host, and depart into your country." so sir launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he sought many days; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was seen of queen guenever as he walked in the cloister; and when she saw him she swooned away. and when she might speak she bade him to be called to her. and when sir launcelot was brought to her she said: "sir launcelot, i require thee and beseech thee, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more, but return to thy kingdom and take thee a wife, and live with her with joy and bliss; and pray for me to my lord, that i may get my soul's health." "nay, madam," said sir launcelot, "wit you well that i shall never do; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to will i take me unto, for to please and serve god." and so they parted, with tears and much lamentation; and the ladies bare the queen to her chamber, and sir launcelot took his horse and rode away, weeping. and at last sir launcelot was ware of a hermitage and a chapel, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and thither he rode and alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. and he that sang the mass was the hermit with whom sir bedivere had taken up his abode; and sir bedivere knew sir launcelot, and they spake together after mass. but when sir bedivere had told his tale, sir launcelot's heart almost burst for sorrow. then he kneeled down, and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besought that he might be his brother. then the hermit said, "i will gladly;" and then he put a habit upon sir launcelot, and there he served god day and night, with prayers and fastings. and the great host abode at dover till the end of the fifteen days set by sir launcelot, and then sir bohort made them to go home again to their own country; and sir bohort, sir hector de marys, sir blamor, and many others, took on them to ride through all england to seek sir launcelot. so sir bohort by fortune rode until he came to the same chapel where sir launcelot was; and when he saw sir launcelot in that manner of clothing he, prayed the hermit that he might be in that same. and so there was an habit put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. and within half a year came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such a habit as sir launcelot and sir bohort had. thus they endured in great penance six years. and upon a night there came a vision to sir launcelot, and charged him to haste toward almesbury, and "by the time thou come there, thou shalt find queen guenever dead." then sir launcelot rose up early and told the hermit thereof. then said the hermit, "it were well that ye disobey not this vision." and sir launcelot took his seven companions with him, and on foot they went from glastonbury to almesbury, which is more than thirty miles. and when they were come to almesbury, they found that queen guenever died but half an hour before. then sir launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. and so he did all the observance of the service himself, both the "dirige" at night, and at morn he sang mass. and there was prepared an horse-bier, and sir launcelot and his fellows followed the bier on foot from almesbury until they came to glastonbury; and she was wrapped in cered clothes, and laid in a coffin of marble. and when she was put in the earth sir launcelot swooned, and lay long as one dead. and sir launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank; but continually mourned. and within six weeks sir launcelot fell sick; and he sent for the hermit and all his true fellows, and said, "sir hermit, i pray you give me all my rights that a christian man ought to have." "it shall not need," said the hermit and all his fellows; "it is but heaviness of your blood, and to-morrow morn you shall be well" "my fair lords," said sir launcelot, "my careful body will into the earth; i have warning more than now i will say; therefore give me my rights." so when he was houseled and aneled, and had all that a christian man ought to have, he prayed the hermit that his fellows might bear his body to joyous garde. (some men say it was alnwick, and some say it was bamborough.) "it repenteth me sore," said sir launcelot, "but i made a vow aforetime that in joyous garde i would be buried." then there was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows. and that night sir launcelot died; and when sir bohort and his fellows came to his bedside the next morning they found him stark dead; and he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest savor all about him that ever they knew. and they put sir launcelot into the same horse-bier that queen guenever was laid in, and the hermit and they altogether went with the body till they came to joyous garde. and there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalms and prayers over him. and ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold him. and right thus, as they were at their service, there came sir hector de maris, that had seven years sought sir launcelot, his brother, through all england, scotland and wales. and when sir hector heard such sounds in the chapel of joyous garde he alighted and came into the quire. and all they knew sir hector. then went sir bohort, and told him how there lay sir launcelot, his brother, dead. then sir hector threw his shield, his sword, and helm from him. and when he beheld sir launcelot's visage it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints he made for his brother. "ah, sir launcelot!" he said, "there thou liest. and now i dare to say thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hand. and thou wert the courteousest knight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever struck with sword. and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights. and thou wert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies. and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest." then there was weeping and dolor out of measure. thus they kept sir launcelot's corpse fifteen days, and then they buried it with great devotion. then they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. and sir bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. and sir bohort, sir hector, sir blamor, and sir bleoberis went into the holy land. and these four knights did many battles upon the miscreants, the turks; and there they died upon a good friday, as it pleased god. thus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled "la morte d'arthur;" notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts of the said king arthur, and of his noble knights of the round table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the achieving of the sangreal, and, in the end, le morte d'arthur, with the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all. which book was reduced into english by sir thomas mallory, knight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and imprinted and finished in the abbey westmestre, the last day of july, the year of our lord mcccclxxxv. caxton me fieri fecit. the mabinogeon introductory note it has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of europe that there exist in the great public libraries voluminous manuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on the invention of printing had already become antiquated, and fallen into neglect. they were therefore never printed, and seldom perused even by the learned, until about half a century ago, when attention was again directed to them, and they were found very curious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and modes of thinking. several have since been edited, some by individuals, as sir walter scott and the poet southey, others by antiquarian societies. the class of readers which could be counted on for such publications was so small that no inducement of profit could be found to tempt editors and publishers to give them to the world. it was therefore only a few, and those the most accessible, which were put in print. there was a class of manuscripts of this kind which were known, or rather suspected, to be both curious and valuable, but which it seemed almost hopeless to expect ever to see in fair printed english. these were the welsh popular tales called mabinogeon, a plural word, the singular being mabinogi, a tale. manuscripts of these were contained in the bodleian library at oxford and elsewhere, but the difficulty was to find translators and editors. the welsh is a spoken language among the peasantry of wales, but is entirely neglected by the learned, unless they are natives of the principality. of the few welsh scholars none were found who took sufficient interest in this branch of learning to give these productions to the english public. southey and scott, and others, who like them, loved the old romantic legends of their country, often urged upon the welsh literati the duty of reproducing the mabinogeon. southey, in the preface of his edition of "moted'arthur," says: "the specimens which i have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greater desideratum in british literature than an edition of these tales, with a literal version, and such comments as mr. davies of all men is best qualified to give. certain it is that many of the round table fictions originated in wales, or in bretagne, and probably might still be traced there." again, in a letter to sir charles w. w. wynn, dated , he says: "i begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the mabinogeon; and yet if some competent welshman could be found to edit it carefully, with as literal a version as possible, i am sure it might be made worth his while by a subscription, printing a small edition at a high price, perhaps two hundred at five guineas. i myself would gladly subscribe at that price per volume for such an edition of the whole of your genuine remains in prose and verse. till some such collection is made, the 'gentlemen of wales' ought to be prohibited from wearing a leek; ay, and interdicted from toasted cheese also. your bards would have met with better usage if they had been scotchmen." sharon turner and sir walter scott also expressed a similar wish for the publication of the welsh manuscripts. the former took part in an attempt to effect it, through the instrumentality of a mr. owen, a welshman, but, we judge, by what southey says of him, imperfectly acquainted with english. southey's language is "william owen lent me three parts of the mabinogeon, delightfully translated into so welsh an idiom and syntax that such a translation is as instructive as an original." in another letter he adds, "let sharon make his language grammatical, but not alter their idiom in the slightest point." it is probable mr. owen did not proceed far in an undertaking which, so executed, could expect but little popular patronage. it was not till an individual should appear possessed of the requisite knowledge of the two languages, of enthusiasm sufficient for the task, and of pecuniary resources sufficient to be independent of the booksellers and of the reading public, that such a work could be confidently expected. such an individual has, since southey's day and scott's, appeared in the person of lady charlotte guest, an english lady united to a gentleman of property in wales, who, having acquired the language of the principality, and become enthusiastically fond of its literary treasures, has given them to the english reader, in a dress which the printer's and the engraver's arts have done their best to adorn. in four royal octavo volumes containing the welsh originals, the translation, and ample illustrations from french, german, and other contemporary and affiliated literature, the mabinogeon is spread before us. to the antiquarian and the student of language and ethnology an invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly in such a form win its way to popular acquaintance. we claim no other merit than that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, of abridging its details, of selecting its most attractive portions, and of faithfully preserving throughout the style in which lady guest has clothed her legends. for this service we hope that our readers will confess we have laid them under no light obligation. chapter i the britons the earliest inhabitants of britain are supposed to have been a branch of that great family known in history by the designation of celts. cambria, which is a frequent name for wales, is thought to be derived from cymri, the name which the welsh traditions apply to an immigrant people who entered the island from the adjacent continent. this name is thought to be identical with those of cimmerians and cimbri, under which the greek and roman historians describe a barbarous people, who spread themselves from the north of the euxine over the whole of northwestern europe. the origin of the names wales and welsh has been much canvassed. some writers make them a derivation from gael or gaul, which names are said to signify "woodlanders;" others observe that walsh, in the northern languages, signifies a stranger, and that the aboriginal britons were so called by those who at a later era invaded the island and possessed the greater part of it, the saxons and angles. the romans held britain from the invasion of julius caesar till their voluntary withdrawal from the island, a.d. ,--that is, about five hundred years. in that time there must have been a wide diffusion of their arts and institutions among the natives. the remains of roads, cities, and fortifications show that they did much to develop and improve the country, while those of their villas and castles prove that many of the settlers possessed wealth and taste for the ornamental arts. yet the roman sway was sustained chiefly by force, and never extended over the entire island. the northern portion, now scotland, remained independent, and the western portion, constituting wales and cornwall, was only nominally subjected. neither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing the remoter sections of the island. for ages after the arrival of the saxons under hengist and horsa, a.d. , the whole western coast of britain was possessed by the aboriginal inhabitants, engaged in constant warfare with the invaders. it has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of wales and cornwall that the original british stock flourishes in its unmixed purity only among them. we see this notion flashing out in poetry occasionally, as when gray, in "the bard," prophetically describing queen elizabeth, who was of the tudor, a welsh race, says: "her eye proclaims her of the briton line;" and, contrasting the princes of the tudor with those of the norman race, he exclaims: "all hail, ye genuine kings, britannia's issue, hail!" the welsh language and literature the welsh language is one of the oldest in europe. it possesses poems the origin of which is referred with probability to the sixth century. the language of some of these is so antiquated that the best scholars differ about the interpretation of many passages; but, generally speaking, the body of poetry which the welsh possess, from the year downwards, is intelligible to those who are acquainted with the modern language. till within the last half-century these compositions remained buried in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and so difficult of access that no successful attempt was made to give them to the world. this reproach was removed after ineffectual appeals to the patriotism of the gentry of wales, by owen jones, a furrier of london, who at his own expense collected and published the chief productions of welsh literature, under the title of the myvyrian archaeology of wales. in this task he was assisted by dr. owen and other welsh scholars. after the cessation of jones' exertions the old apathy returned, and continued till within a few years. dr. owen exerted himself to obtain support for the publication of the mabinogeon or prose tales of the welsh, but died without accomplishing his purpose, which has since been carried into execution by lady charlotte guest. the legends which fill the remainder of this volume are taken from this work, of which we have already spoken more fully in the introductory chapter to the first part. the welsh bards the authors to whom the oldest welsh poems are attributed are aneurin, who is supposed to have lived a.d. to , and taliesin, llywarch hen (llywarch the aged), and myrddin or merlin, who were a few years later. the authenticity of the poems which bear their names has been assailed, and it is still an open question how many and which of them are authentic, though it is hardly to be doubted that some are so. the poem of aneurin entitled the "gododin" bears very strong marks of authenticity. aneurin was one of the northern britons of strath-clyde, who have left to that part of the district they inhabited the name of cumberland, or land of the cymri. in this poem he laments the defeat of his countrymen by the saxons at the battle of cattraeth, in consequence of having partaken too freely of the mead before joining in combat. the bard himself and two of his fellow-warriors were all who escaped from the field. a portion of this poem has been translated by gray, of which the following is an extract: "to cattraeth's vale, in glittering row, twice two hundred warriors go; every warrior's manly neck chains of regal honor deck, wreathed in many a golden link; from the golden cup they drink nectar that the bees produce, or the grape's exalted juice. flushed with mirth and hope they burn, but none to cattraeth's vale return, save aeron brave, and conan strong, bursting through the bloody throng, and i, the meanest of them all, that live to weep, and sing their fall." the works of taliesin are of much more questionable authenticity. there is a story of the adventures of taliesin so strongly marked with mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the writings attributed to him. this story will be found in the subsequent pages. the triads the triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, of which the welsh bards have left numerous examples. they are enumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observations, strung together in one short sentence. this form of composition, originally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the memory, has been raised by the welsh to a degree of elegance of which it hardly at first sight appears susceptible. the triads are of all ages, some of them probably as old as anything in the language. short as they are individually, the collection in the myvyrian archaeology occupies more than one hundred and seventy pages of double columns. we will give some specimens, beginning with personal triads, and giving the first place to one of king arthur's own composition: "i have three heroes in battle: mael the tall, and llyr, with his army, and caradoc, the pillar of wales." "the three principal bards of the island of britain:-- merlin ambrose merlin the son of mprfyn, called also merlin the wild, and taliesin, the chief of the bards." "the three golden-tongued knights of the court of arthur:-- gawain, son of gwyar, drydvas, son of tryphin, and ehwlod, son of madag, ap uther." "the three honorable feasts of the island of britain:-- the feast of caswallaun, after repelling julius caesar from this isle; the feast of aurelius ambrosius, after he had conquered the saxons; and the feast of king arthur, at carleon upon usk." "guenever, the daughter of laodegan the giant, bad when little, worse when great." next follow some moral triads: "hast thou heard what dremhidydd sung, an ancient watchman on the castle walls? a refusal is better than a promise unperformed." "hast thou heard what llenleawg sung, the noble chief wearing the golden torques? the grave is better than a life of want." "hast thou heard what garselit sung, the irishman whom it is safe to follow? sin is bad, if long pursued." "hast thou heard what avaon sung, the son of taliesin, of the recording verse? the cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heart." "didst thou hear what llywarch sung, the intrepid and brave old man? greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance." chapter ii the lady of the fountain kynon's adventure king arthur was at caerleon upon usk; and one day he sat in his chamber, and with him were owain, the son of urien, and kynon, the son of clydno, and kay, the son of kyner, and guenever and her handmaidens at needlework by the window. in the centre of the chamher king arthur sat, upon a seat of green rushes, [footnote: the use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to the court of carleon upon usk. our ancestors had a great predilection for them, and they seem to have constituted an essential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. the custom of strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed in england during the middle ages, and also in france.] over which was spread a covering of flame-covered satin, and a cushion of red satin was under his elbow. then arthur spoke. "if i thought you would not disparage me," said he, "i would sleep while i wait for my repast; and you can entertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some meat from kay." and the king went to sleep. and kynon the son of clydno asked kay for that which arthur had promised them. "i too will have the good tale which he promised me," said kay. "nay," answered kynon; "fairer will it be for thee to fulfil arthur's behest in the first place, and then we will tell thee the best tale that we know." so kay went to the kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled collops of meat. then they ate the collops, and began to drink the mead. "now," said kay, "it is time for you to give me my story." "kynon," said owain, "do thou pay to kay the tale that is his due." "i will do so," answered kynon. "i was the only son of my mother and father, and i was exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great. i thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me: and after i had achieved all the adventures that were in my own country, i equipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. and at length it chanced that i came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by the side of the river. and i followed the path until midday, and continued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the evening; and at the extremity of the plain i came to a large and lustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. and i approached the castle, and there i beheld two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin; and they had gold clasps upon their insteps. in the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews of the stag, and their arrows and their shafts were of the bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock's feathers. the shafts also had golden heads. and they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. and they were shooting at a mark. "and a little away from them i saw a man in the prime of life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of yellow satin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. on his feet were shoes of variegated leather, [footnote: cordwal is the word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used it is evidently intended for the french cordouan or cordovan leather, which derived its name from cordova, where it was manufactured. from this comes also our english word cordwainer.] fastened by two bosses of gold. when i saw him i went towards him and saluted him; and such was his courtesy, that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. and he went with me towards the castle. now there were no dwellers in the castle, except those who were in one hall. and there i saw four and twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a window. and this i tell thee, kay, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou didst ever behold in the island of britain; and the least lovely of them was more lovely than guenever, the wife of arthur, when she appeared loveliest, at the feast of easter. they rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of my armor, and six others took my arms and washed them in a vessel till they were perfectly bright. and the third six spread cloths upon the tables and prepared meat. and the fourth six took off my soiled garments and placed others upon me, namely, an under vest and a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band upon the mantle. and they placed cushions both beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen, and i sat down. now the six maidens who had taken my horse unharnessed him as well as if they had been the best squires in the island of britain. "then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was water to wash and towels of linen, some green and some white; and i washed. and in a little while the man sat down at the table. and i sat next to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. and the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen. and no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold or of silver or of buffalo horn. and our meat was brought to us. and verily, kay, i saw there every sort of meat, and every sort of liquor that i ever saw elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better served there than i ever saw them in any other place. "until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that it would be more agreeable for me to converse than to eat any more, he began to inquire of me who i was. then i told the man who i was and what was the cause of my journey, and said that i was seeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether i could gain mastery over all. the man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, 'if i did not fear to do thee a mischief, i would show thee that which thou seekest.' then i desired him to speak freely. and he said: 'sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and take the road upwards through the valley, until thou readiest the wood. a little way within the wood thou wilt come to a large sheltered glade, with a mound in the centre. and thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the top of the mound. he has but one foot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. he is the wood- ward of that wood. and thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him. inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of.' "and long seemed that night to me. and the next morning i arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through the valley to the wood, and at length i arrived at the glade. and the black man was there, sitting upon the top of the mound; and i was three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that i beheld than the man had said i should be. then i inquired of him the way and he asked me roughly whither i would go. and when i had told him who i was and what i sought, 'take,' said he, 'that path that leads toward the head of the glade, and there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a tall tree. under this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not be carried away. take, the bowl and throw a bowlful of water on the slab. and if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not seek it during the rest of thy life.' "so i journeyed on until i reached the summit of the steep. and there i found everything as the black man had described it to me. and i went up to the tree, and beneath it i saw the fountain, and by its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. then i took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately i heard a mighty peal of thunder, so that heaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. and after the thunder came a, shower; and of a truth i tell thee, kay, that it was such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live. i turned my horse's flank toward the shower, and placed the beak of my shield over his head and neck, while i held the upper part of it over my own neck. and thus i withstood the shower. and presently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang. and truly, kay, i never heard any melody equal to that, either before or since. and when i was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo! a chiding voice was heard of one approaching me and saying: 'o knight, what has brought thee hither? what evil have i done to thee that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this day? dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?' and thereupon, behold, a knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and with a tabard of black linen about him. and we charged each other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before i was overthrown. then the knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where i was. and he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. so i returned along the road by which i had come. and when i reached the glade where the black man was, i confess to thee, kay, it is a marvel that i did not melt down into a liquid pool, through the shame that i felt at the black man's derision. and that night i came to the same castle where i had spent the night preceding. and i was more agreeably entertained that night than i had been the night before. and i conversed freely with the inmates of the castle; and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did i mention it to any. and i remained there that night. when i arose on the morrow i found ready saddled a dark bay palfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. and after putting on my armor, and leaving there my blessing, i returned to my own court. and that horse i still possess, and he is in the stable yonder. and i declare that i would not part with him for the best palfrey in the island of britain. "now, of a truth, kay, no man ever before confessed to an adventure so much to his own discredit; and verily it seems strange to me that neither before nor since have i heard of any person who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within king arthur's dominions without any other person lighting upon it." chapter iii the lady of the fountain (continued) owain's adventure [footnote: amongst all the characters of early british history none is the more interesting, or occupies more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. urien, his father, was prince of rheged, a district comprising the present cumberland and part of the adjacent country. his valor, and the consideration in which he was held, are a frequent theme of bardic song, and form the subject of several very spirited odes by taliesin. among the triads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated: "three knights of battle were in court of arthur cadwr, the earl of cornwall, launcelot du lac, and owain, the son of urien. and this was their characteristic--that they would not retreat from battle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. and arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there. and they were called the knights of battle."] "now," quoth owain, "would it not be well to go and endeavor to discover that place?" "by the hand of my friend," said kay, "often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds." "in very truth," said guenever, "it were better thou wert hanged, kay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like owain." "by the hand of my friend, good lady," said kay, "thy praise of owain is not greater than mine." with that arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little. "yes, lord," answered owain, "thou hast slept awhile." "is it time for us to go to meat?" "it is, lord," said owain. then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all his household sat down to eat. and when the meal was ended owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms. on the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, and over desert mountains. and at length he arrived at the valley which kynon had described to him, and he was certain that it was the same that he sought. and journeying along the valley, by the side of the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain, and within sight of the castle. when he approached the castle he saw the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. and no sooner had owain saluted the yellow man, than he was saluted by him in return. and he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw the chamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. and their beauty and their comeliness seemed to owain far greater than kynon had represented to him. and they arose to wait upon owain, as they had done to kynon. and the meal which they set before him gave even more satisfaction to owain than it had done to kynon. about the middle of the repast the yellow man asked owain the object of his journey. and owain made it known to him, and said, "i am in quest of the knight who guards the fountain." upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out that adventure to him as he had been to kynon. however, he described the whole to owain, and they retired to rest. the next morning owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was. and the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to owain than it had done to kynon; and owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. and owain followed the road till he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, with the bowl upon it. and owain took the bowl and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. and, lo! the thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the shower, more violent than kynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. and immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and sang. and when their song was most pleasing to owain he beheld a knight coming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receive him, and encountered him violently. having broken both their lances, they drew their swords and fought blade to blade. then owain struck the knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece, and visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain. then the black knight felt that he had received a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse's head and fled. and owain pursued him and followed close upon him, although he was not near enough to strike him with his sword. then owain descried a vast and resplendent castle; and they came to the castle gate. and the black knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that were upon owains' heels. and the portcullis descended to the floor. and the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were without, and owain with the other part of the horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that owain could not go thence; and owain was in a perplexing situation. and while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. and he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened. "heaven knows, lady," said owain, "it is no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free." and he told her his name, and who he was. "truly," said the damsel, "it is very sad that thou canst not be released; and every woman ought to succor thee, for i know there is no one more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. therefore," quoth she, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release, i will do it. take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy hand upon the stone. and as long as thou concealest it, it will conceal thee. when they come forth to fetch thee, they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. and i will await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to see me, though i cannot see thee. therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that i may know that thou art near me. and by the way that i go hence do thou accompany me." then the maiden went away from owain, and he did all that she had told him. and the people of the castle came to seek owain to put him to death; and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they were sorely grieved. and owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and owain followed her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in. and owain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not a single nail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors, and there was not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it. the maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and gave owain water to wash. then she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen, and she brought him food. and, of a truth, owain never saw any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. and there was not one vessel from which he was served that was not of gold or of silver. and owain eat and drank until late in the afternoon, when lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the castle, and owain asked the maiden what it was. "they are administering extreme unction," said she, "to the nobleman who owns the castle." and she prepared a couch for owain which was meet for arthur himself, and owain went to sleep. and a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor and wailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of it. "they are bearing to the church the body of the nobleman who owned the castle." and owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the chamber, and looked towards the castle; and he could see neither the bounds nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. and they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics in the city singing. in the midst of the throng he beheld the bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning beside and around it; and none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a powerful baron. never did owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk [footnote: before the sixth century all the silk used by europeans had been brought to them by the seres, the ancestors of the present boukharians, whence it derived its latin name of serica. in the silkworm was brought by two monks to constantinople, but the manufacture of silk was confined to the greek empire till the year , when roger, king of sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some manufacturers from athens and corinth, and established them at palermo, whence the trade was gradually disseminated over italy. the varieties of silk stuffs known at this time were velvet, satin (which was called samite), and taffety (called cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionally stitched with gold and silver.] and satin. and, following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. upon her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not bruised from the violence with which she smote her hands together. truly she would have been the fairest lady owain ever saw, had she been in her usual guise. and her cry was louder than the shout of the men or the clamor of the trumpets. no sooner had he beheld the lady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire possession of him. then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. "heaven knows," replied the maiden, "she is the fairest and the most chaste, and the most liberal, and the most noble of women. she is my mistress, and she is called the countess of the fountain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday." "verily," said owain, "she is the woman that i love best." "verily," said the maiden, "she shall also love thee, not a little." then the maiden prepared a repast for owain, and truly he thought he had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever so well served. then she left him, and went towards the castle. when she came there, she found nothing but mourning and sorrow; and the countess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one through grief. luned, for that was the name of the maiden, saluted her, but the countess answered her not. and the maiden bent down towards her, and said, "what aileth thee, that thou answereth no one to-day?" "luned," said the countess, "what change hath befallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief. it was wrong in thee, and i so sorely afflicted." "truly," said luned, "i thought thy good sense was greater than i find it to be. is it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anything else that thou canst not have?" "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that in the whole world there is not a man equal to him." "not so," said luned, "for an ugly man would be as good as or better than he." "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one whom i have brought up, i would have thee executed for making such a comparison to me. as it is, i will banish thee." "i am glad," said luned, "that thou hast no other cause to do so than that i would have been of service to thee, where thou didst not know what was to thine advantage. henceforth, evil betide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards reconciliation to the other, whether i should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord should send to invite." with that luned went forth; and the countess arose and followed her to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. and when luned looked back, the countess beckoned to her, and she returned to the countess. "in truth," said the countess, "evil is thy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me." "i will do so," said she. "thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is impossible for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek some one who can defend them." "and how can i do that?" said the countess. "i will tell thee," said luned; "unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain except it be a knight of arthur's household. i will go to arthur's court, and ill betide me if i return not thence with a warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly." "that will be hard to perform," said the countess. "go, however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised," luned set out under the pretence of going to arthur's court; but she went back to the mansion where she had left owain, and she tarried there as long as it might have taken her to travel to the court of king arthur and back. and at the end of that time she apparelled herself, and went to visit the countess. and the countess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the court. "i bring thee the best of news," said luned, "for i have compassed the object of my mission. when wilt thou that i should present to thee the chieftain who has come with me hither?" "bring him here to visit me to-morrow," said the countess, "and i will cause the town to be assembled by that time." and luned returned home. and the next day at noon, owain arrayed himself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form of lions. and they proceeded to the chamber of the countess. right glad was the countess of their coming. and she gazed steadfastly upon owain, and said, "luned, this knight has not the look of a traveller." "what harm is there in that, lady?" said luned. "i am certain," said the countess, "that no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my lord." "so much the better for thee, lady," said luned, "for had he not been stronger than thy lord, he could not have deprived him of life. there is no remedy for that which is past, be it as it may." "go back to thine abode," said the countess, "and i will take counsel." the next day the countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. "therefore," said she, "this is what i offer for your choice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my dominions." so they came to the determination that it was better that she should have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and thereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to celebrate her nuptials with owain. and the men of the earldom did owain homage. and owain defended the fountain with lance and sword. and this is the manner in which he defended it. whensoever a knight came there, he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth. and what he thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights, and no man in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. and it was thus for the space of three years. [footnote: there exists an ancient poem, printed among those of taliesin, called the "elegy of owain ap urien," and containing several very beautiful and spirited passages it commences "the soul of owain ap urien, may its lord consider its exigencies' reged's chief the green turf covers." in the course of this elegy the bard, alluding to the incessant warfare with which this chieftain harassed his saxon foes, exclaims, "could england sleep with the light upon her eyes'"] chapter iv the lady of the fountain (continued) gawain's adventure it befell that, as gawain went forth one day with king arthur, he perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. and gawain was much grieved to see arthur in his state, and he questioned him, saying, "o my lord, what has befallen thee?" "in sooth, gawain," said arthur, "i am grieved concerning owain, whom i have lost these three years; and i shall certainly die if the fourth year pass without my seeing him. now i am sure that it is through the tale which kynon, the son of clydno, related, that i have lost owain." "there is no need for thee," said gawain, "to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the men of thy household, will be able to avenge owain if he be slain or to set him free if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him back with thee." and it was settled according to what gawain had said. then arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek owain. and kynon, the son of clydno, acted as their guide. and arthur came to the castle where kynon had been before. and when he came there, the youths were shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing hard by. when the yellow man saw arthur, he greeted him, and invited him to the castle. and arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered the castle together. and great as was the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely observed in the castle, so vast was its extent. and the maidens rose up to wait on them. and the service of the maidens appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and even the pages, who had charge of the horses, were no worse served that night than arthur himself would have been in his own palace. the next morning arthur set out thence, with kynon for his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. and the stature of the black man was more surprising to arthur than it had been represented to him. and they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley, till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain and the bowl and the slab. and upon that kay came to arthur, and spoke to him. "my lord," said he, "i know the meaning of all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me to throw the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that may befall." and arthur gave him leave. then kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. and such a thunder-storm they had never known before. after the shower had ceased, the sky became clear, and on looking at the tree, they beheld it completely leafless. then the birds descended upon the tree. and the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard before. then they beheld a knight, on a coal- black horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. and kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long before kay was overthrown. and the knight withdrew. and arthur and his host encamped for the night. and when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat upon the lance of the knight. then, one by one, all the household of arthur went forth to combat the knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by him, except arthur and gawain. and arthur armed himself to encounter the knight. "o my lord," said gawain, "permit me to fight with him first." and arthur permitted him. and he went forth to meet the knight, having over himself and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had been sent him by the daughter of the earl of rhangyr, and in this dress he was not known by any of the host. and they charged each other, and fought all that day until the evening. and neither of them was able to unhorse the other. and so it was the next day; they broke their lances in the shock, but neither of them could obtain the mastery. and the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. and they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon. and they gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses' cruppers to the ground. and they rose up speedily and drew their swords, and resumed the combat. and all they that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. and had it been midnight, it would have been light, from the fire that flashed from their weapons. and the knight gave gawain a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that the knight saw that it was gawain. then owain said, "my lord gawain, i did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms." said gawain, "thou, owain, art the victor; take thou my sword." and with that arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced toward them. "my lord arthur," said gawam, "here is owain who has vanquished me, and will not take my arms." "my lord," said owain, "it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword." "give me your swords," said arthur, "and then neither of you has vanquished the other." then owain put his arms around arthur's neck, and they embraced. and all the host hurried forward to see owain, and to embrace him. and there was nigh being a loss of life, so great was the press. and they retired that night, and the next day arthur prepared to depart. "my lord," said owain, "this is not well of thee. for i have been absent from thee these three years, and during all that time, up to this very day, i have been preparing a banquet for thee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants have recovered the fatigues of the journey, and have been anointed." and they all proceeded to the castle of the countess of the fountain, and the banquet which had been three years preparing was consumed in three months. never had they a more delicious or agreeable banquet. and arthur prepared to depart. then he sent an embassy to the countess to beseech her to permit owain to go with him, for the space of three months, that he might show him to the nobles and the fair dames of the island of britain. and the countess gave her consent, although it was very painful to her. so owain came with arthur to the island of britain. and when he was once more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three years, instead of three months, with them. the adventure of the lion and as owain one day sat at meat, in the city of caerleon upon usk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse, with a curling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, and as much as was seen of the saddle, were of gold. and the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin. and she came up to owain, and took the ring from off his hand. "thus," said she, "shall be treated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless." and she turned her horse's head and departed. [footnote: the custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his guests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages of ancient romance and history. but a quotation from chaucer's beautiful and half-told tale of "cambuscan" is sufficient: "and so befell that after the thridde cours, while that this king sat thus in his nobley, herking his minstralles thir thinges play, beforne him at his bord deliciously, in at the halle door all sodenly ther came a knight upon a stede of bras, and in his hond a brod mirrour of glas; upon his thombe he had of gold a ring, and by his side a naked sword hanging; and up he rideth to the highe bord. in all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, for meryaille of this knight; him to behold full besily they waiten, young and old."] then his adventure came to owain's remembrance, and he was sorrowful. and having finished eating, he went to his own abode, and made preparations that night. and the next day he arose, but did not go to the court, nor did he return to the countess of the fountain, but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains. and he remained there until all his apparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. and he went about with the wild beasts, and fed with them, until they became familiar with him. but at length he became so weak that he could no longer bear them company. then he descended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park, that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitable lady. one day the lady and her attendants went forth to walk by a lake that was in the middle of the park. and they saw the form of a man, lying as if dead. and they were terrified. nevertheless they went near him, and touched him, and they saw that there was life in him. and the lady returned to the castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens. "go with this," said she, "and take with thee yonder horse, and clothing, and place them near the man we saw just now; and anoint him with this balsam near his heart; and if there is life in him, he will revive, through the efficiency of this balsam. then watch what he will do." and the maiden departed from her, and went and poured of the balsam upon owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a little way off and hid herself to watch him. in a short time, she saw him begin to move; and he rose up, and looked at his person, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance. then he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him. and he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse. then the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted him. and he and the maiden proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conducted him to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him. and he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored to his former guise, and became even more comely than he had ever been before. and owain rendered signal service to the lady, in a controversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he made ample requital to her for her hospitality; and he took his departure. and as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. and it was repeated a second and a third time. and owain went towards the spot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood, on the side of which was a gray rock. and there was a cleft in the rock, and a serpent was within the cleft. and near the rock stood a black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence the serpent darted towards him to attack him. and owain unsheathed his sword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprung out he struck him with his sword and cut him in two. and he dried his sword, and went on his way as before. but behold the lion followed him, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound that he had reared. they proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. and when it was time for owain to take his rest he dismounted, and turned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. and he struck fire, and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuel enough to last for three nights. and the lion disappeared. and presently the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. and he threw it down before owain, who went towards the fire with it. and owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of its flesh upon skewers round the fire. the rest of the buck he gave to the lion to devour. while he was so employed, he heard a deep groan near him, and a second, and a third. and the place whence the groans proceeded was a cave in the rock; and owain went near, and called out to know who it was that groaned so piteously. and a voice answered, "i am luned, the hand-maiden of the countess of the fountain." "and what dost thou here?" said he. "i am imprisoned," said she, "on account of the knight who came from arthur's court, and married the countess. and he staid a short time with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of arthur, and has not returned since. and two of the countess's pages traduced him, and called him a deceiver. and because i said i would vouch for it he would come before long and maintain his cause against both of them, they imprisoned me in this cave, and said that i should be put to death, unless he came to deliver me, by a certain day; and that is no further off than to-morrow, and i have no one to send to seek him for me. his name is owain, the son of urien." "and art thou certain that if that knight knew all this, he would come to thy rescue?" "i am most certain of it," said she. when the collops were cooked, owain divided them into two parts, between himself and the maiden, and then owain laid himself down to sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord than the lion that night over owain. and the next day there came the two pages with a great troop of attendants to take luned from her cell, and put her to death. and owain asked them what charge they had against her. and they told him of the compact that was between them; as the maiden had done the night before. "and," said they, "owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt." "truly," said owain, "he is a good knight; and if he knew that the maiden was in such peril, i marvel that he came not to her rescue. but if you will accept me in his stead, i will do battle with you." "we will," said the youth. and they attacked owain, and he was hard beset by them. and with that, the lion came to owain's assistance, and they two got the better of the young men and they said to him, "chieftain, it was not agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and it is harder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee." and owain put the lion in the place where luned had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door with stones. and he went to fight with the young men as before. but owain had not his usual strength, and the two youths pressed hard upon him. and the lion roared incessantly at seeing owain in trouble. and he brust through the wall, until he found a way out, and rushed upon the young men and instantly slew them. so luned was saved from being burned. then owain returned with luned to the castle of the lady of the fountain. and when he went thence, he took the countess with him to arthur's court, and she was his wife as long as she lived. chapter v geraint, the son of erbin arthur was accustomed to hold his court at caerleon upon usk. and there he held it seven easters and five christmases. and once upon a time he held his court there at whitsuntide. for caerleon was the place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by land. and there were assembled nine crowned kings, who were his tributaries, and likewise earls and barons. for they were his invited guests at all the high festivals, unless they were prevented by any great hinderatice. and when he was at caerleon holding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass. and thus they were appointed: one church for arthur and his kings, and his guests; and the second for guenever and her ladies; and the third for the steward of the household and the suitors; and the fourth for the franks and the other officers; and the other nine churches were for the nine masters of the household, and chiefly for gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, and from the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine. and there was no other arrangement respecting the churches than that which we have here mentioned. and on whit-tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, there entered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and surcoat of satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes of leather upon his feet. and he came and stood before arthur. "hail to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee," he answered, "and be thou welcome. dost thou bring any new tidings?" "i do, lord," he said. "i am one of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of dean, and my name is madoc, son of turgadarn. in the forest i saw a stag, the like of which beheld i never yet." "what is there about him," asked arthur, "that thou never yet didst see his like?" "he is of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any other animal, through stateliness and pride, so royal is his bearing. and i come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy will concerning him." "it seems best to me," said arthur, "to go and hunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general notice thereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court." "for arthur on the whitsuntide before held court at old caerleon upon usk. there on a day, he sitting high in hall, before him came a forester of dean, wet from the woods, with notice of a hart taller than all his fellows, milky-white, first seen that day: these things he told the king. then the good king gave order to let blow his horns for hunting on the morrow morn." --enid. and arryfuerys was arthur's chief huntsman, and arelivri his chief page. and all received notice; and thus it was arranged. then guenever said to arthur, "wilt thou permit me, lord, to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the young man spoke?" "i will gladly," said arthur. and gawain said to arthur, "lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whose hunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight or one on foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady of his friend." "i grant it gladly," said arthur, "and let the steward of the household be chastised, if all things are not ready to-morrow for the chase." and they passed the night with songs, and diversions, and discourse, and ample entertainment. and when it was time for them all to go to sleep, they went. and when the next day came, they arose. and arthur called the attendants who guarded his couch. and there were four pages whose names were cadyrnerth, the son of gandwy, and ambreu, the son of bedwor and amhar, the son of arthur and goreu, the son of custennin. and these men came to arthur and saluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. and arthur wondered that guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken her. "disturb her not," said arthur, "for she had rather sleep than go to see the hunting." then arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from near the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near that of the chief page. and the whole assembly of the multitudes came to arthur, and they took the road to the forest. and after arthur had gone forth from the palace, guenever awoke, and called to her maidens, and apparalled herself. "maidens," said she, "i had leave last night to go and see the hunt. go one of you to the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride." and one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable; and guenever and one of her maidens mounted them, and went through the usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. and as they rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound; and they looked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal of mighty size. and the rider was a fairhaired youth, bare-legged, and of princely mien; and a golden-hilted sword was at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoes of leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of blue purple, at each corner of which was a golden apple. "for prince geraint, late also, wearing neither hunting-dress nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand, came quickly flashing through the shallow ford." --enid. and his horse stepped stately, and swift, and proud; and he overtook guenever, and saluted her. "heaven prosper thee, geraint," said she; "and why didst thou not go with thy lord to hunt?" "because i knew not when he went," said he. "i marvel too," said she, "how he could go, unknown to me. but thou, o young man, art the most agreeable companion i could have in the whole kingdom; and it may be i shall be more amused with the hunting than they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound and we shall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry." so they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. "from this place," said she, "we shall hear when the dogs are let loose." and thereupon they heard a loud noise; and they looked towards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a dwarf riding upon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong and spirited. and in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. and near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse, of steady and stately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold brocade. and near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, with heavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. and truly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of such remarkable size. "geraint," said guenever, "knowest thou the name of that tall knight yonder?" "i know him not," said he, "and the strange armor that he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features." "go, maiden," said guenever, "and ask the dwarf who that knight is." then the maiden went up to the dwarf; and she inquired of the dwarf who the knight was. "i will not tell thee," he answered. "since thou art so churlish," said she, "i will ask him, himself." "thou shalt not ask him, by my faith," said he. "wherefore not?" said she. "because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit thee to speak to my lord." then the maiden turned her horse's head towards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the whip that was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that the blood flowed forth. and the maiden returned to guenever, complaining of the hurt she had received. "very rudely has the dwarf treated thee," said geraint, and he put his hand upon the hilt of his sword. but he took counsel with himself, and considered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight; so he refrained. "lady," said he, "i will follow him, with thy permission, and at last he will come to some inhabited place, where i may have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that i may encounter the knight." "go," said she, "and do not attack him until thou hast good arms; and i shall be very anxious concerning thee, until i hear tidings of thee." "if i am alive," said he, "thou shalt hear tidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;" and with that he departed. and the road they took was below the palace of caerleon, and across the ford of the usk; and they went along a fair and even and lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, and at the extremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. and as the knight passed through the town all the people arose and saluted him, and bade him welcome. and when geraint came into the town, he looked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom he saw. but he knew none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to let him have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. and every house he saw was full of men, and arms, and horses. and they were polishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, and shoeing horses. and the knight and the lady and the dwarf rode up to the castle, that was in the town, and every one was glad in the castle. and from the battlements and the gates they risked their necks, through their eagerness to greet them, and to show their joy. geraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in the castle; and when he was certain that he would do so, he looked around him. and at a little distance from the town he saw an old palace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay. "and high above a piece of turret-stair, worn by the feet that now were silent, wound bare to the sun" --enid. and as he knew not any one in the town, he went towards the old palace. and when he came near to the palace, he saw a hoary-headed man, standing by it, in tattered garments. and geraint gazed steadfastly upon him. then the hoary-headed man said to him, "young man, wherefore art thou thoughtful?" "i am thoughtful," said he, "because i know not where to pass the night." "wilt thou come forward this way, chieftain," said he, "and thou shalt have of the best that can be procured for thee." so geraint went forward. and the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. and in the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse. then he went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. and in the chamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a cushion, with old, worn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed to him that she must have been comely when in the bloom of youth. and beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old and beginning to be worn out. and truly he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. and the hoary- headed man said to the maiden, "there is no attendant for the horse of this youth but thyself." "i will render the best service i am able," said she, "both to him and to his horse." and the maiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse with straw and corn; and then she returned to the chamber. and the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, "go to the town and bring hither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of liquor." "i will gladly, lord," said she. and to the town went the maiden. and they conversed together while the maiden was at the town. and, behold, the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on his back a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of a young bullock. and in the hands of the maiden was a quantity of white bread, and she had some manchet bread in her veil, and she came into the chamber. "i would not obtain better than this," said she, "nor with better should i have been trusted." "it is good enough," said geraint. and they caused the meat to be boiled; and when their food was ready, they sat down. and it was in this wise. geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the maiden served them. and they ate and drank. and when they had finished eating, geraint talked with the hoary- headed man, and he asked him in the first place to whom belonged the palace that he was in. "truly," said he, "it was i that built it, and to me also belonged the city and the castle which thou sawest." "alas!" said geraint, "how is it that thou hast lost them now?" "i lost a great earldom as well as these," said he, "and this is how i lost them. i had a nephew, the son of my brother, and i took care of his possessions; but he was impatient to enter upon them, so he made war upon me, and wrested from me not only his own, but also my estates, except this castle." "good sir," said geraint, "wilt thou tell me wherefore came the knight and the lady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is the preparation which i saw, and the putting of arms in order?" "i will do so," said he. "the preparations are for the game that is to be held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on this wise. in the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set up, and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver rod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be a tournament. and to the tournament will go all the array thou didst see in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. and with each man will go the lady he loves best; and no man can joust for the sparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. and the knight that thou sawest has gained the sparrow-hawk these two years; and if he gains it the third year, he will be called the knight of the sparrow-hawk from that time forth." "sir," said geraint, "what is thy counsel to me concerning this knight, on account of the insult which the maiden of guenever received from the dwarf?" and geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult was that the maiden had received. "it is not easy to counsel thee, inasmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst joust. yet i have arms here, which thou couldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to thee better than thine own." "ah, sir," said he, "heaven reward thee! but my own horse to which i am accustomed, together with thine arms, will suffice me. and if, when the appointed time shall come to-morrow thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maiden that is thy daughter, i will engage, if i escape from the tournament, to love the maiden as long as i live." "gladly will i permit thee," said the hoary-headed man; "and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be ready to-morrow at break of day. for then the knight of the sparrow-hawk will make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the sparrow-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend her claim. and therefore," said the hoary-headed man, "it is needful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be with thee." and thus was it settled. and at night they went to sleep. and before the dawn they arose and arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they were all four in the meadow. and there was the knight of the sparrow- hawk making the proclamation, and asking his lady-love to take the sparrow-hawk. "take it not," said geraint, "for here is a maiden who is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to it than thou." then said the knight, "if thou maintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do battle with me." and geraint went forward to the top of the meadow, having upon himself and upon his horse armor which was heavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. then they encountered each other, and they broke a set of lances; and they broke a second set, and a third. and when the earl and his company saw the knight of the sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting and joy and mirth amongst them; and the hoary-headed man and his wife and his daughter were sorrowful. and the hoary-headed man served geraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarf served the knight of the sparrow-hawk. then the hoary-headed man said to geraint, "o chieftain, since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the day when i received the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this i never broke it, and it has an excellent point." then geraint took the lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. and thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. "behold, here is a lance for thee, not less good than his," said the dwarf. "and bethink thee that no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done." "i declare to heaven," said geraint, "that unless death takes me quickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service." and geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warning him, he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and furious, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it in two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both he and his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's crupper. and geraint dismounted quickly. and he was wroth, and he drew his sword, and rushed fiercely upon him. then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against geraint. and they fought on foot with their swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one another; and thus they continued fighting until the blood and sweat obscured the light from their eyes. at length geraint called to him all his strength, and struck the knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armor, and cut through all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he wounded the bone. then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his hand, and besought mercy from geraint. "of a truth," said he, "i relinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave thy mercy; and unless i have time to commit myself to heaven for my sins, and to talk with a priest, thy mercy will avail me little." "i will grant thee grace upon this condition," said geraint, "that thou go to guenever, the wife of arthur, to do her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. dismount not from the time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence of guenever, to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the court of arthur." "this will i do gladly; and who art thou?" "i am geraint, the son of erbin; and declare thou also who thou art." "i am edeym, the son of nudd." then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to arthur's court; and the lady he loved best went before him, and the dwarf, with much lamentation. then came the young earl and his hosts to geraint, and saluted him, and bade him to his castle. "i may not go," said geraint; "but where i was last night, there will i be to-night also." "since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance of all that i can command for thee; and i will order ointment for thee, to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the weariness that is upon thee." "heaven reward thee," said geraint, "and i will go to my lodging." and thus went geraint and earl ynywl, and his wife and his daughter. and when they reached the old mansion, the household servants and attendants of the young earl had arrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them with straw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment was ready, and geraint came there, and they washed his head. then came the young earl, with forty honorable knights from among his attendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. and geraint came from the anointing. and the earl asked him to go to the hall to eat. "where is the earl ynywl," said geraint, "and his wife and his daughter?" "they are in the chamber yonder," said the earl's chamberlain, "arraying themselves in garments which the earl has caused to be brought for them." "let not the damsel array herself," said he, "except in her vest and her veil, until she come to the court of arthur, to be clad by guenever in such garments as she may choose." so the maiden did not array herself. then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat down to meat. and thus were they seated. on one side of geraint sat the young earl, and earl ynywl beyond him, and on the other side of geraint was the maiden and her mother. and after these all sat according to their precedence in honor. and they ate. and they were served abundantly, and they received a profusion of divers kinds of gifts. then they conversed together. and the young earl invited geraint to visit him next day. "i will not, by heaven," said geraint. "to the court of arthur will i go with this maiden to-morrow. and it is enough for me, as long as earl ynywl is in poverty and trouble; and i go chiefly to seek to add to his maintenance." "ah, chieftain," said the young earl, "it is not by my fault that earl ynywl is without his possessions." "by my faith," said geraint, "he shall not remain without them, unless death quickly takes me hence." "o chieftain," said he, "with regard to the disagreement between me and ynywl, i will gladly abide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge right between us." "i but ask thee," said geraint, "to restore to him what is his, and what he should have received from the time he lost his possessions even until this day." "that will i do, gladly, for thee," answered he. "then," said geraint, "whosoever is here who owes homage to ynywl, let him come forward, and perform it on the spot." and all the men did so; and by that treaty they abided. and his castle and his town, and all his possessions, were restored to ynywl. and he received back all that he had lost, even to the smallest jewel. then spoke earl ynywl to geraint. "chieftain," said he, "behold the maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament; i bestow her upon thee." "she shall go with me," said geraint, "to the court of arthur, and arthur and guenever, they shall dispose of her as they will." and the next day they proceeded to arthur's court. so far concerning geraint. chapter vi geraint, the son of erbin (continued) now this is how arthur hunted the stag. the men and the dogs were divided into hunting-parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the stag. and the last dog that was let loose was the favorite dog of arthur; cavall was his name. and he left all the other dogs behind him and turned the stag. and at the second turn the stag came toward the hunting-party of arthur. and arthur set upon him; and before he could be slain by any other, arthur cut off his head. then they sounded the death-horn for slaying and they all gathered round. they came kadyriath to arthur and spoke to him. "lord," said he, "behold, yonder is guenever, and none with her save only one maiden." "command gildas, the son of caw, and all the scholars of the court," said arthur, "to attend guenever to the palace." and they did so. then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the head of the stag, to whom it should be given. one wished that it should be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another to the lady whom he loved best. and so they came to the palace. and when arthur and guenever heard them disputing about the head of the stag, guenever said to arthur: "my lord, this is my counsel concerning the stag's head; let it not be given away until geraint, the son of erbin, shall return from the errand he is upon." and guenever told arthur what that errand was. "right gladly shall it be so," said arthur. and guenever caused a watch to be set upon the ramparts for geraint's coming. and after midday they beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him a dame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight of large stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low and sorrowfully, and clad in broken and worthless armor. and before they came near to the gate one of the watch went to guenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, and what aspect they bore. "i know not who they are," said he, "but i know," said guenever; "this is the knight whom geraint pursued, and methinks that he comes not here by his own free will. but geraint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden to the uttermost." and thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spot where guenever was. "lady," said he, "at the gate there is a knight, and i saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look upon as he. miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and the hue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color." "knowest thou his name?" said she. "i do," said he; "he tells me that he is edeyrn, the son of nudd." then she replied, "i know him not." so guenever went to the gate to meet him and he entered. and guenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even though he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. then edeyrn saluted guenever. "heaven protect thee," said she. "lady," said he, "geraint, the son of erbin, thy best and most valiant servant, greets thee." "did he meet with thee?" she asked. "yes," said he, "and it was not to my advantage; and that was not his fault, but mine, lady. and geraint greets thee well; and in greeting thee he compelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insult which thy maiden received from the dwarf." "now where did he overtake thee?" "at the place where we were jousting and contending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called cardiff. and it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden, the daughter of earl ynywl, that geraint jousted at the tournament. and thereupon we encountered each other, and he left me, lady, as thou seest." "sir," said she, "when thinkest thou that geraint will be here?" "to-morrow, lady, i think he will be here with the maiden." then arthur came to them. and he saluted arthur, and arthur gazed a long time upon him and was amazed to see him thus. and thinking that he knew him, he inquired of him, "art thou edeyrn, the son of nudd?" "i am, lord," said he, "and i have met with much trouble and received wounds unsupportable." then he told arthur all his adventure. "well," said arthur, "from what i hear it behooves guenever to be merciful towards thee." "the mercy which thou desirest, lord," said she. "will i grant to him, since it is as insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to thyself." "thus will it be best to do," said arthur; "let this man have medical care until it be known whether he may live. and if he live, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the men of the court. and if he die, too much will be the death of such a youth as edeyrn for an insult to a maiden." "this pleases me," said guenever. and arthur caused morgan tud to be called to him. he was the chief physician. "take with thee edeyrn, the son of nudd, and cause a chamber to be prepared for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if i were wounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him, but thyself and thy disciples, to administer to him remedies." "i will do so, gladly, lord," said morgan tud. then said the steward of the household, "whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden?" "to guenever and her handmaidens," said he. and the steward of the household so ordered her. "and rising up, he rode to arthur's court, and there the queen forgave him easily. and being young, he changed himself, and grew to hate the sin that seem'd so like his own of modred, arthur's nephew, and fell at last in the great battle fighting for the king." --enid. the next day came geraint towards the court; and there was a watch set on the ramparts by guenever, lest he should arrive unawares. and one of the watch came to guenever. "lady," said he, "methinks that i see geraint, and a maiden with him. he is on horseback, but he has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be in white, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen." "assemble all the women," said guenever, "and come to meet geraint, to welcome him, and wish him joy." and guenever went to meet geraint and the maiden. and when geraint came to the place where guenever was, he saluted her. "heaven prosper thee," said she, "and welcome to thee." "lady," said he, "i earnestly desired to obtain thee satisfaction, according to thy will; and, behold, here is the maiden through whom thou hadst thy revenge." "verily," said guenever, "the welcome of heaven be unto her; and it is fitting that we should receive her joyfully." then they went in and dismounted. and geraint came to where arthur was, and saluted him. "heaven protect thee," said arthur, "and the welcome of heaven be unto thee. and inasmuch as thou hast vanquished edeyrn, the son of nudd, thou hast had a prosperous career." "not upon me be the blame," said geraint; "it was through the arrogance of edeyrn, the son of nudd, himself, that we were not friends." "now," said arthur, "where is the maiden for whom i heard thou didst give challenge?" "she is gone with guenever to her chamber." then went arthur to see the maiden. and arthur, and all his companions, and his whole court, were glad concerning the maiden. and certain were they all, that, had her array been suitable to her beauty, they had never seen a maid fairer than she. and arthur gave away the maiden to geraint. and the usual bond made between two persons was made between geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of all guenever's apparel was given to the maiden; and thus arrayed, she appeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. and that day and the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and ample gifts of liquor, and a multiude of games. and when it was time for them to go to sleep they went. and in the chamber where the couch of arthur and guenever was, the couch of geraint and enid was prepared. and from that time she became his wife. and the next day arthur satisfied all the claimants upon geraint with bountiful gifts. and the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she had many companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more esteemed than she in the island of britain. then spake guenever. "rightly did i judge," said she, "concerning the head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until geraint's return; and behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing it. let it be given to enid, the daughter of ynywl, the most illustrious maiden. and i do not believe that any will begrudge it her, for between her and every one here there exists nothing but love and friendship." much applauded was this by them all, and by arthur also. and the head of the stag was given to enid. and thereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more in number than before. and geraint from that time forth loved the hunt, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and he came victorious from them all. and a year, and a second, and a third, he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the kingdom. and, once upon a time, arthur was holding his court at caerleon upon usk; and behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise and prudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and they saluted arthur. "heaven prosper you!" said arthur; "and whence do you come?" "we come, lord," said they, "from cornwall; and we are ambassadors from erbin, the son of custennin, thy uncle, and our mission is unto thee. and he greets thee well, as an uncle should greet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. and he represents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is advancing in years. and the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, grow insolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. and he earnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit geraint, his son, to return to him, to protect his possessions, and to become acquainted with his boundaries. and unto him he represents that it were better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournaments which are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in them." "well," said arthur, "go and divest yourselves of your accoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after your fatigues; and before you go from hence you shall have an answer." and they went to eat. and arthur considered that it would go hard with him to let geraint depart from him, and from his court; neither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrained from going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. no less was the grief and regret of guenever, and all her women, and all her damsels, through fear that the maiden would leave them. and that day and that night were spent in abundance of feasting. and arthur told geraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of cornwall. "truly," said geraint, "be it to my advantage or disadvantage, lord, i will do according to thy will concerning this embassy." "behold," said arthur, "though it grieves me to part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to dwell in thine own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, and take with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of those thou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, and among thy companions in arms." "heaven reward thee! and this will i do," said geraint. "what discourse," said guenever, "do i hear between you? is it of those who are to conduct geraint to his country?" "it is," said arthur. "then is it needful for me to consider," said she, "concerning companions and a provision for the lady that is with me." "thou wilt do well," said arthur. and that night they went to sleep. and the next day the ambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that geraint should follow them. and on the third day geraint set forth, and many went with him--gawain, the son of gwyar, and riogoned, the son of the king of ireland, and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, gwilim, the son of the ruler of the franks, howel, the son of the earl of brittany, perceval, the son of evrawk, gwyr, a judge in the court of arthur, bedwyr, the son of bedrawd, kai, the son of kyner, odyar, the frank, and ederyn, the son of nudd. said geraint, "i think i shall have enough of knighthood with me." and they set forth. and never was there seen a fairer host journeying towards the severn. and on the other side of the severn were the nobles of erbin, the son of custennin, and his foster-father at their head, to welcome geraint with gladness; and many of the women of the court, with his mother, came to receive enid, the daughter of ynywl, his wife. and there was great rejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through all the country, concerning geraint, because of the greatness of their love to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gained since he went from amongst them, and because he was come to take possession of his dominions, and to preserve his boundaries. and they came to the court. and in the court they had ample entertainment, and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. and to do honor to geraint, all the chief men of the country were invited that night to visit him. and they passed that day and that night in the utmost enjoyment. and at dawn next day erbin arose and summoned to him geraint, and the noble persons who had borne him company. and he said to geraint: "i am a feeble and an aged man, and whilst i was able to maintain the dominion for thee and for myself, i did so. but thou art young, and in the flower of thy vigor and of thy youth. henceforth do thou preserve thy possessions." "truly," said geraint, "with my consent thou shalt not give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt not take me from arthur's court." "into thy hands will i give them," said erbin, "and this day also shalt thou receive the homage of thy subjects." then said gawain, "it were better for thee to satisfy those who have boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst receive the homage of thy dominions." so all that had boons to ask were summoned into one place. and kadyriath came to them to know what were their requests. and every one asked that which he desired. and the followers of arthur began to make gifts, and immediately the men of cornwall came, and gave also. and they were not long in giving, so eager was every one to bestow gifts, and of those who came to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. and that day and that night were spent in the utmost enjoyment. and the next day at dawn, erbin desired geraint to send messengers to the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that he should come to receive their homage, and whether they had anything to object to him. then geraint sent ambassadors to the men of cornwall to ask them this. and they all said that it would be the fulness of joy and honor to them for geraint to come and receive their homage. so he received the homage of such as were there. and the day after the followers of arthur intended to go away. "it is too soon for you to go away yet," said he; "stay with me until i have finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who have agreed to come to me." and they remained with him until he had done so. then they set forth towards the court of arthur. and geraint went to bear them company, and enid also, as far as diganwy; there they parted. and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, said to geraint, "go, now, and visit the uttermost parts of thy dominions, and see well to the boundaries of thy territories; and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, send unto thy companions." "heaven reward thee!" said geraint; "and this will i do." and geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts of his dominions. and experienced guides, and the chief men of his country, went with him. and the furthermost point that they showed him he kept possession of. chapter vii geraint, the son of erbin (continued) geraint, as he had been used to do when he was at arthur's court, frequented tournaments. and he became acquainted with valiant and mighty men, until he had gained as much fame there as he had formerly done elsewhere. and he enriched his court, and his companions, and his nobles, with the best horses and the best arms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceased not until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom. "before geraint, the scourge of the enemy, i saw steeds white with foam, and after the shout of battle a fearful torrent." --hen. when he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no one who was worth his opposing. and he loved his wife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelsy and diversions. so he began to shut himself up in the chamber of his wife, and he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that he gave up the friendship of his nobles, together with his hunting and his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his court. and there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him among the inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so completely their companionship for the love of his wife. "they began to scoff and jeer and babble of him as of a prince whose manhood was all gone, and molten down in mere uxoriousness." these tidings came to erbin. and when erbin had heard these things, he spoke unto enid, and inquired of her whether it was she that had caused geraint to act thus, and to forsake his people and his hosts. "not i, by my confession unto heaven," said she; "there is nothing more hateful unto me than this." and she knew not what she should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this to geraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what she heard, without warning geraint concerning it. and she was very sorrowful. one morning in the summer-time they were upon their couch, and geraint lay upon the edge of it. and enid was without sleep in the apartment, which had windows of glass; [footnote: the terms of admiration in which the older writers invariably speak of glass windows would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting, how rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of our ancestors. they were first introduced in ecclesiastical architecture, to which they were for a long time confined. glass is said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before the fourteenth century.] and the sun shone upon the couch. and the clothes had slipped from off his arms and his breast, and he was asleep. then she gazed upon the marvellous beauty of his appearance, and she said, "alas! and am i the cause that these arms and this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike fame which they once so richly enjoyed!" as she said this the tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. and the tears she shed and the words she had spoken, awoke him. and another thing contributed to awaken him, and that was the idea that it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that it was because she loved some other man more than him, and that she wished for other society. thereupon geraint was troubled in his mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to him, "go quickly," said he, "and prepare my horse and my arms, and make them ready. and do thou rise," said he to enid, "and apparel thyself; and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in the worst riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. and evil betide me," said he, "if thou returnest here until thou knowest whether i have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. and if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society thou didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking." so she arose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. "i know nothing, lord," said she, "of thy meaning." "neither wilt thou know at this time," said he. then geraint went to see erbin. "sir," said he, "i am going upon a quest, and i am not certain when i may come back. take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my return." "i will do so," said he; "but it is strange to me that thou shouldst go so suddenly. and who will proceed with thee, since thou art not strong enough to traverse the land of loegyr alone?" "but one person only will go with me." "heaven counsel thee, my son," said erbin, "and may many attach themselves to thee in loegyr." then went geraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equipped with foreign armor, heavy and shining. and he desired enid to mount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way before him. "and whatever thou mayst see, and whatever thou mayst hear concerning me," said he, "do thou not turn back. and unless i speak unto thee, say not thou one word, either." so they set forward. and he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequented road, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves and robbers and venomous animals. and they came to a high road, which they followed till they saw a vast forest; and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from the forest. when the armed men saw them, they said one to another. "here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armor, and a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in doing against yonder single knight who hangs his head so pensively and heavily." enid heard this discourse, and she knew not what she should do through fear of geraint, who had told her to be silent. "the vengeance of heaven be upon me," said she, "if i would not rather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any other; and though he should slay me, yet will i speak to him, lest i should have the misery to witness his death." so she waited for geraint until he came near to her. "lord," said she, "didst thou hear the words of those men concerning thee?" then he lifted up his eyes, and looked at her angrily. "thou hadst only," said he, "to hold thy peace as i bade thee. i wish but for silence, and not for warning. and though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat and my death by the hands of those men, yet do i feel no dread." then the foremost of them couched his lance, and rushed upon geraint. and he received him, and that not feebly. but he let the thrust go by him, while he struck the horseman upon the centre of his shield, in such a manner that his shield was split, and his armor broken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of geraint's lance passed through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length of the lance over his horse's crupper. then the second horseman attacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion. but with one thrust geraint overthrew him also, and killed him as he had done the other. then the third set upon him, and he killed him in like manner. and thus also he slew the fourth. sad and sorrowful was the maiden as she saw all this. geraint dismounted his horse, and took the arms of the men he had slain, and placed them upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of their horses; and he mounted his horse again. "behold what thou must do," said he; "take the four horses and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as i bade thee just now. and say not one word unto me, unless i speak first unto thee. and i declare unto heaven," said he, "if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy cost." "i will do as far as i can, lord," said she, "according to thy desire." so the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of geraint, as he had desired her; and it grieved him as much as his wrath would permit, to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so much trouble with the care of the horses. then they reached a wood, and it was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them. "ah, maiden," said he, "it is vain to attempt proceeding forward." "well, lord," said she, "whatever thou wishest, we will do." "it will be best for us," he answered, "to rest and wait for the day, in order to pursue our journey." "that we will, gladly," said she. and they did so. having dismounted himself, he took her down from her horse. "i cannot by any means refrain from sleep, through weariness," said he; "do thou therefore watch the horses, and sleep not." "i will, lord," said she. then he went to sleep in his armor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at that season. and when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around her to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. then he arose, and said unto her, "take the horses and ride on, and keep straight on as thou didst yesterday." and they left the wood, and they came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowers mowing the meadows. and there was a river before them, and the horses bent down and drank of the water. and they went up out of the river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender stripling with a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there was something in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. and he had a small blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of the pitcher. and the youth saluted geraint. "heaven prosper thee!" said geraint; "and whence dost thou come?" "i come," said he, "from the city that lies before thee. my lord," he added, "will it be displeasing to thee if i ask whence thou comest also?" "by no means; through yonder wood did i come." "thou camest not through the wood to-day." "no," he replied, "we were in the wood last night." "i warrant," said the youth, "that thy condition there last night was not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neither meat nor drink." "no, by my faith," said he. "wilt thou follow my counsel," said the youth, "and take thy meal from me?" "what sort of meal?" he inquired. "the breakfast which is sent for yonder mowers, nothing less than bread and meat and wine, and if thou wilt, sir, they shall have none of it." "i will," said he, "and heaven reward thee for it." so geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off her horse. then they washed, and took their repast. and the youth cut the bread in slices, and gave them drink, and served them withal. and when they had finished, the youth arose and said to geraint, "my lord, with thy permission, i will now go and fetch some food for the mowers." "go first to the town," said geraint, "and take a lodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the most commodious one for the horses; and take thou whichever horse and arms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift." "heaven reward thee, lord!" said the youth; "and this would be ample to repay services much greater than those i have rendered unto thee." and to the town went the youth, and he took the best and the most pleasant lodgings that he knew; and after that he went to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and proceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all his adventure. "i go now, lord," said he, "to meet the knight, and to conduct him to his lodging." "go, gladly," said the earl; "and right joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come." and the youth went to meet geraint, and told him that he would be received gladly by the earl in his own palace; but he would go only to his lodgings. and he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty of straw and drapery, and a spacious and commodious place he had for the horses; and the youth prepared for them plenty of provender. after they had disarrayed themselves, geraint spoke thus to enid: "go," said he, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this side of the house; and thou mayst call to thee the woman of the house, if thou wilt." "i will do, lord," said she, "as thou sayest." thereupon the man of the house came to geraint and welcomed him. and after they had eaten and drank, geraint went to sleep, and so did enid also. in the evening, behold, the earl came to visit geraint, and his twelve honorable knights with him. and geraint rose up and welcomed him. then they all sat down according to their precedence in honor. and the earl conversed with geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey. "i have none," he replied, "but to seek adventures and to follow mine own inclination." then the earl cast his eye upon enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. and he thought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she. and he set all his thoughts and his affections upon her. then he asked of geraint, "have i thy permission to go and converse with yonder maiden, for i see that she is apart from thee?" "thou hast it gladly," said he. so the earl went to the place where the maiden was, and spake with her. "ah! maiden," said he, "it cannot be pleasant to thee to journey with yonder man." "it is not unpleasant to me," said she. "thou hast neither youths nor maidens to serve thee," said he. "truly," she replied, "it is more pleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youths and maidens." "i will give thee good counsel," said he: "all my earldom will i place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell with me." "enid, the pilot star of my lone life, enid, my early and my only love." --enid. "that will i not, by heaven," she said; "yonder man was the first to whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall i prove inconstant to him?" "thou art in the wrong," said the earl; "if i slay the man yonder, i can keep thee with me as long as i choose; and when thou no longer pleasest me, i can turn thee away. but if thou goest with me by thy own good-will, i protest that our union shall continue as long as i remain alive." then she pondered those words of his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in his request. "behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient for thee to do to save me from all reproach; come here to-morrow and take me away as though i knew nothing thereof." "i will do so," said he. so he arose and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. and she told not then to geraint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and care. and at the usual hour they went to sleep. and at the beginning of the night enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and placed all geraint's armor together so that it might be ready to put on. and although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "my lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words of the earl to me and his intention concerning me." so she told geraint all that had passed. and although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. and she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so. "leave there the candle," said he, "and desire the man of the house to come here." then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "dost thou know how much i owe thee?" asked geraint. "i think thou owest but little." "take the three horses and the three suits of armor." "heaven reward thee, lord," said he, "but i spent not the value of one suit of armor upon thee." "for that reason," said he, "thou wilt be the richer. and now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?" "i will gladly," said he; "and in which direction dost thou intend to go?" "i wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which i entered it." so the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he desired. then he bade the maiden to go on before him, and she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned home. and geraint and the maiden went forward along the high-road. and as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. "stay thou here," said he, "and i will go and see what is the cause of this wailing." "i will," said she. then he went forward into an open glade that was near the road. and in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other a woman's saddle upon it. and behold there was a knight lying dead in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him lamenting. "ah, lady," said geraint, "what hath befallen thee?" "behold," she answered, "i journeyed here with my beloved husband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world, they slew him." "which way went they hence?" said geraint. "yonder by the high-road," she replied. so he returned to enid. "go," said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and await me there till i come." she was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that geraint would never return. meanwhile geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. and each of them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. then he rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. and having drawn it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. but the third turned upon him and struck him with his club so that he split his shield and crushed his shoulder. but geraint drew his sword and gave the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, and fierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. so geraint left him thus and returned to enid. and when he reached the place where she was he fell down lifeless from his horse. piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that enid uttered. and she came and stood over him where he had fallen. and at the sound of her cries came the earl of limours, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. and the earl said to enid, "alas, lady, what hath befallen thee?" "ah, good sir," said she, "the only man i have loved, or ever shall love, is slain." then he said to the other, "and what is the cause of thy grief?" "they have slain my beloved husband also," said she. "and who was it that slew them?" "some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest." the earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. and the two damsels went to the court; and when they arrived there, geraint was placed upon a little couch in front of the table that was in the hall. then they all took off their traveling-gear, and the earl besought enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. "i will not, by heaven," said she. "ah, lady," said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter." "it were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she. "i will act towards thee in such wise that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. behold, a good earldom, together with myself, will i bestow upon thee; be therefore happy and joyful." "i declare to heaven," said she, "that henceforth i shall never be joyful while i live." "come," said he, "and eat." "no, by heaven, i will not." "but, by heaven, thou shalt," said he. so he took her with him to the table against her will, and many times desired her to eat. "i call heaven to witness," said she, "that i will not until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise." "thou canst not fulfil that," said the earl, "yonder man is dead already." "i will prove that i can," said she. then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "drink this goblet," he said, "and it will cause thee to change thy mind." "evil betide me," she answered, "if i drink aught until he drink also." "truly," said the earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be gentle with thee than ungentle." and he gave her a box in the ear. thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than they had been before; for she considered in her mind, that, had geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. but, behold, at the sound of her cry, geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the bier; and finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was staid by the table. then all left the board and fled away. and this was not so much through fear of the living, as through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. and geraint looked upon enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was to see that enid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that she was in the right. "lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses are?" "i know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied, "but i know not where is the other. thy horse is in the house yonder." so he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up enid, and placed her upon the horse with him. and he rode forward. and their road lay between two hedges; and the night was gaining on the day. and lo! they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the tramping of horses, and the noise of a host approaching. "i hear something following us," said he, "and i will put thee on the other side of the hedge." and thus he did. and thereupon, behold a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance. when enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "o chieftain, whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?" "o heaven!" said he, "is it geraint?" "yes, in truth," said she; "and who art thou?" "i am gwiffert petit," said he, "thy husband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for i heard that thou wast in trouble. come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom." "i will do so gladly," said geraint. and enid was placed upon the horse of one of gwiffert's squires, and they went forward to the baron's palace. and they were received there with gladness, and they met with hospitality and attention. the next morning they went to seek physicians; and it was not long before they came, and they attended geraint until he was perfectly well. and while geraint was under medical care gwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. and they remained there a month and a fortnight. then they separated, and geraint went towards his own dominions, and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to enid, from that time forward. [footnote: throughout the broad and varied region of romance it would be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of enid, the daughter of earl ynywl. conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more to admire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was destined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finally achieved the truimph she so richly deserved. the character of enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching than that of griselda, over which, however, chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget the improbability of her story.] chapter viii pwyll, prince of dyved once upon a time pwyll was at narberth, his chief palace, where a feast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. and after the first meal pwyll arose to walk; and he went to the top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called gorsedd arberth. "lord," said one of the court, "it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder." "i fear not to receive wounds or blows," said pwyll; "but as to the wonder, gladly would i see it. i will therefore go and sit upon the mound." and upon the mound he sat. and while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from the mound. "my men," said pwyll, "is there any among you who knows yonder lady?" "there is not, lord," said they. "go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is." and one of them arose, and as he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by; and he followed as fast as he could, being on foot, and the greater was his speed, the further was she from him. and when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to pwyll, and said unto him, "lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot." "verily," said pwyll, "go unto the palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her." and he took a horse and went forward. and he came to an open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the further was she from him. and he returned to the place where pwyll was, and said, "lord, it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. i know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her." "of a truth," said pwyll, "there must be some illusion here; let us go towards the palace." so to the palace they went, and spent the day. and the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. and when meat was ended, pwyll said, "where are the hosts that went yesterday to the top of the mound?" "behold, lord, we are here," said they. "let us go," said he, "to the mound, and sit there. and do thou," said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee." and the youth did thus. and they went and sat upon the mound; and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace. "young man," said pwyll, "i see the lady coming; give me my horse." and before he had mounted his horse she passed him. and he turned after her and followed her. and he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that he should soon come up with her. but he came no nearer to her than at first. then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed not. then said pwyll, "o maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest, stay for me." "i will stay gladly," said she; "and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since." so the maiden stopped; and she threw back that part of her head-dress which covered her face. then he thought that the beauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen was as nothing compared to her beauty. "lady," he said, "wilt thou tell me aught concerning thy purpose?" "i will tell thee," said she; "my chief quest was to see thee." "truly," said pwyll, "this is to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" "i will tell thee, lord," said she. "i am rhiannon, the daughter of heveydd, and they sought to give me a husband against my will. but no husband would i have, and that because of my love for thee; neither will i yet have one, unless thou reject me; and hither have i come to hear thy answer." "by heaven," said pwyll, "behold this is my answer. if i might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would i choose." "verily," said she, "if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me ere i am given to another." "the sooner i may do so, the more pleasing will it be to me," said pwyll; "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will i meet with thee." "i will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth at the palace of heveydd." "gladly," said he, "will i keep this tryst." so they parted, and he went back to his hosts, and to them of his household. and whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. and when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of heveydd. and he came to the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. and the whole court was placed under his orders. and the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did they sit: heveydd was on one side of pwyll, and rhiannon on the other; and all the rest according to their rank. and they ate and feasted, and talked one with another. and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat, there entered a tall, auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. and when he came into the hall, he saluted pwyll and his companions. "the greeting of heaven be unto thee," said pwyll; "come thou and sit down." "nay," said he, "a suitor am i, and i will do my errand." "do so willingly," said pwyll. "lord," said he, "my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that i come." "what boon soever thou mayest ask of me, so far as i am able, thou shalt have." "ah!" said rhiannon, "wherefore didst thou give that answer?" "has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?" asked the youth. "my soul," said pwyll, "what is the boon thou askest?" "the lady whom best i love is to be thy bride this night; i come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place." and pwyll was silent, because of the promise which he had given. "be silent as long as thou wilt," said rhiannon, "never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hast done." "lady," said he, "i knew not who he was." "behold, this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will," said she; "and he is gawl, the son of clud, a man of great power and wealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him, lest shame befall thee." "lady," said he, "i understand not thy answer; never can i do as thou sayest." "bestow me upon him," said she, "and i will cause that i shall never be his." "by what means will that be?" asked pwyll. then she told him the thought that was in her mind. and they talked long together. then gawl said, "lord, it is meet that i have an answer to my request." "as much of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou shalt have," replied pwyll. "my soul," said rhiannon unto gawl, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, i have bestowed them upon the men of dyved, and the household and the warriors that are with us. these can i not suffer to be given to any. in a year from to-night, a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace, that i may become thy bride." so gawl went forth to his possessions, and pwyll went also back to dyved. and they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast at the palace of heveydd. then gawl, the son of clud, set out to the feast that was prepared for him; and he came to the palace, and was received there with rejoicing. pwyll, also, the chief of dyved, came to the orchard with a hundred knights, as rhiannon had commanded him. and pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet. and when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went toward the hall; and when he came into the hall he saluted gawl, the son of clud, and his company, both men and women. "heaven prosper thee," said gawl, "and friendly greeting be unto thee!" "lord," said he, "may heaven reward thee! i have an errand unto thee." "welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me that which is right, thou shalt have it gladly." "it is fitting," answered he; "i crave but from want, and the boon i ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat." "a request within reason is this," said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it. bring him food." a great number of attendants arose and began to fill the bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. "my soul," said gawl, "will thy bag ever be full?" "it will not, i declare to heaven," said he, "for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall say, 'enough has been put therein.'" then said rhiannon unto gawl, the son of clud, "rise up quickly." "i will willingly arise," said he. so he rose up, and put his two feet into the bag. and pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, so that gawl was over his head in it. and he shut it up quickly, and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. and thereupon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. and they seized all the host that had come with gawl, and cast them into his own prison. and pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his tattered array. and as they came in, every one of pwyll's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and asked, "what is here?" "a badger," said they. and in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either with his foot or with a staff. and thus played they with the bag. and then was the game of badger in the bag first played. "lord," said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldst but hear me, i merit not to be slain in a bag." said heveydd, "lord, he speaks truth; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this." "verily," said pwyll, "i will do thy counsel concerning him." "behold, this is my counsel then," said rhiannon. "thou art now in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels. let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to revenge that which has been done to him. and this will be punishment enough." "i will do this gladly," said the man in the bag. "and gladly will i accept it," said pwyll, "since it is the counsel of heveydd and rhiannon. seek thyself sureties." "we will be for him," said heveydd, "until his men be free to answer for him." and upon this he was let out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated. "verily, lord," said gawl, "i am greatly hurt, and i have many bruises. with thy leave, i will go forth. i will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." "willingly," said pwyll, "mayest thou do this." so gawl went to his own possessions. and the hall was set in order for pwyll and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. and as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. and they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquility. and the time came that they should sleep, and pwyll and rhiannon went to their chamber. and next morning at break of day, "my lord," said rhiannon, "arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. refuse no one to- day that may claim thy bounty." "thus shall it be gladly," said pwyll, "both to-day and every day while the feast shall last." so pwyll arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what gifts they desired. and this being done, the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. and when the feast was ended, pwyll said unto heveydd, "my lord, with thy permission, i will set out for dyved to-morrow." "certainly," said heveydd; "may heaven prosper thee! fix also a time when rhiannon shall follow thee." "by heaven," said pwyll, "we will go hence together." "willest thou this, lord?" said heveydd. "yes, lord," answered pwyll. and the next, day they set forward towards dyved, and journeyed to the palace of narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. and there came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whom rhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. and they ruled the land prosperously that year and the next. chapter ix branwen, the daughter of llyr bendigeid vran, the son of llyr, was the crowned king of this island, and he was exalted from the crown of london. and one afternoon he was at harlech, in ardudwy, at his court; and he sat upon the rock of harlech, looking over the sea. and with him were his brother, manawyddan, the son of llyr, and his brothers by the mother's side, nissyen and evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king. his two brothers by the mother's side were the sons of euroswydd, and one of these youths was a good youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his kindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was at the highest, and this one was nissyen; but the other would cause strife between his two brothers when they were most at peace. and as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming from the south of ireland, and making towards them; and they came with a swift motion, the wind being behind them; and they neared them rapidly. "i see ships afar," said the king, "coming swiftly towards the land. command the men of the court that they equip themselves, and go and learn their intent." so the men equipped themselves, and went down towards them. and when they saw the ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships better furnished. beautiful flags of satin were upon them. and, behold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards, in token of peace. and the men drew near, that they might hold converse. then they put out boats, and came toward the land. and they saluted the king. now the king could hear them from the place where he was upon the rock above their heads. "heaven prosper you." said he, "and be ye welcome! to whom do these ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?" "lord," said they, "matholch, king of ireland, is here, and these ships belong to him." "wherefore comes he?" asked the king, "and will he come to the land?" "he is a suitor unto thee, lord," said they, "and he will not land unless he have his boon." "and what may that be?" inquired the king. "he desires to ally himself, lord, with thee," said they, "and he comes to ask branwen, the daughter of llyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the island of the mighty [footnote: the island of the mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon britain by the welsh.] may be leagued with ireland, and both become more powerful." "verily," said he, "let him come to land, and we will take counsel thereupon." and this answer was brought to matholch. "i will go willingly," said he. so he landed, and they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his hosts and those of the court; and next day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow branwen upon matholch. now she was one of the three chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world. and they fixed upon aberfraw as the place where she should become his bride. and they went thence, and towards aberfraw the hosts proceeded, matholch and his host in their ships, bendigeid vran and his host by land, until they came to aberfraw. and at aberfraw they began the feast, and sat down. and thus sat they: the king of the island of the mighty and manawyddan, the son of llyr, on one side, and matholch on the other side, and branwen, the daughter of llyr, beside him. and they were not within a house, but under tents. no house could ever contain bendigeid vran. and they began the banquet, and caroused and discoursed. and when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, and branwen became matholch's bride. and next day they arose, and all they of the court, and the officers began to equip, and to range the horses and the attendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. and, behold, one day evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of whom it is spoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses of matholch were, and asked whose horses they might be. "they are the horses of matholch, king of ireland, who is married to branwen, thy sister; his horses are they." "and is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent? they could have offered no greater insult to me than this," said he. and thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to their heads, and their tails close to their backs; and he disfigured the horses, and rendered them useless. and they came with these tidings unto matholch, saying that the horses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them could ever be of any use again. "verily, lord," said one, "it was an insult unto thee, and as such was it meant." "of a truth, it is a marvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of her kindred, as they have done." "lord," said another, "thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go to thy ships." and thereupon towards his ships he set out. and tidings came to bendigeid vran that matholch was quitting the court without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of him wherefore he did so. and the messengers that went were iddic, the son of anarawd, and heveyd hir. and these overtook him, and asked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. "of a truth," said he, "if i had known, i had not come hither. i have been altogether insulted; no one had ever worse treatment than i have had here." "truly, lord, it was not the will of any that are of the court," said they, "nor of any that are of the council, that thou shouldst have received this insult; and as thou hast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto bendigeid vran than unto thee." "verily," said he, "i think so. nevertheless, he cannot recall the insult." these men returned with that answer to the place where bendigeid vran was, and they told him what reply matholch had given them. "truly," said he, "there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with us that we will not take." "well, lord," said they, "send after him another embassy." "i will do so," said he. "arise, manawyddan, son of llyr, and heveyd hir, and go after him, and tell him that he shall have a sound horse for every one that has been injured. and beside that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of silver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the breadth of his face. and show unto him who it was that did this, and that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my brother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to death. and let him come and meet me," said he, "and we will make peace in any way he may desire." the embassy went after matholch, and told him all these sayings in a friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. "men," said he, "i will take counsel." so to the council he went. and in the council they considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement. they resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to the court in peace. then the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after the fashion of a hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at the beginning of the feast so sat they there. and matholch and bendigeid vran began to discourse; and, behold, it seemed to bendigeid vran, while they talked, that matholch was not so cheerful as he had been before. and he thought that the chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which he had for the wrong that had been done him. "o man," said bendigeid vran, "thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou wast wont. and if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou shalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow i will pay thee for the horses." "lord," said he, "heaven reward thee!" "and i will enhance the atonement," said bendigeid vran, "for i will give unto thee a caldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to- morrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech." and thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that cause. that night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and had minstrelsy and carousing; and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep than to sit longer, they went to rest. and thus was the banquet carried on with joyousness; and when it was finished, matholch journeyed towards ireland, and branwen with him; and they went from aber menei with thirteen ships, and came to ireland. and in ireland was there great joy because of their coming. and not one great man nor noble lady visited branwen unto whom she gave not either a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as it was honorable to be seen departing with. and in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship. and in due time a son was born unto her, and the name that they gave him was gwern, the son of matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a place where were the best men of ireland. and, behold, in the second year a tumult arose in ireland, on account of the insult which matholch had received in wales, and the payment made him for his horses. and his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter. and he might have no peace by reason of the tumult, until they should revenge upon him this disgrace. and the vengeance which they took was to drive away branwen from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook for the court; and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give her every day a blow on the ear; and such they made her punishment. "verily, lord," said his men to matholch, "forbid now the ships and the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not into wales, and such as come over from wales hither, imprison them, that they go not back for this thing to be known there." and he did so; and it was thus for no less than three years. and branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her brother was. and she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward wales. and the bird came to that island; and one day it found bendigeid vran at caer seiont in arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon his shoulder, and ruffled its feathers, so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner. then bendigeid vran took the letter and looked upon it. and when he had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of branwen's woes. and immediately he began sending messengers to summon the island together. and he caused seven-score and four of his chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of the grief that his sister endured. so they took counsel. and in the counsel they resolved to go to ireland, and to leave seven men as princes at home, and caradoc, [footnote: caractacus.] the son of bran, as the chief of them. bendigeid vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towards ireland; and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal water. now the swine-herds of matholch were upon the sea-shore, and they came to matholch. "lord," said they, "greeting be unto thee." "heaven protect you!" said he; "have you any news?" "lord," said they, "we have marvellous news. a wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree." "this is indeed a marvel," said he; "saw you aught else?" "we saw, lord," said they, "a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge. and the wood and the mountain, and all these things, moved." "verily," said he, "there is none who can know aught concerning this unless it be branwen." messengers then went unto branwen. "lady," said they, "what thinkest thou that this is?" "the men of the island of the mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and of my woes." "what is the forest that is seen upon the sea?" asked they. "the yards and the masts of ships," she answered. "alas!" said they; "what is the mountain that is seen by the side of the ships?" "bendigeid vran, my brother," she replied, "coming to shoal water, and he is wading to the land." "what is the lofty ridge, with the lake on each side thereof?" "on looking towards this island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his nose are the two lakes on each side of the ridge." the warriors and chief men of ireland were brought together in haste, and they took counsel. "lord," said the neighbors unto matholch, "there is no other counsel than this alone. thou shalt give the kingdom to gwern, the son of branwen his sister, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that have been done unto branwen. and he will make peace with thee." and in the council it was resolved that this message should be sent to bendigeid vran, lest the country should be destroyed. and this peace was made. and matholch caused a great house to be built for bendigeid vran, and his host. thereupon came the hosts into the house. the men of the island of ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the island of the mighty on the other. and as soon as they had sat down, there was concord between them; and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy. when the peace was concluded, bendigeid vran called the boy unto him, and from bendigeid vran the boy went unto manawyddan; and he was beloved by all that beheld him. and from manawyddan the boy was called by nissyen, the son of euroswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. "wherefore," said evnissyen, "comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me? though he were not king of ireland, yet willingly would i fondle the boy." "cheerfully let him go to thee," said bendigeid vran; and the boy went unto him cheerfully. "by my confession to heaven," said evnissyen in his heart, "unthought of is the slaughter that i will this instant commit." then he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in the house could seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into the blazing fire. and when branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between her two brothers. but bendigeid vran grasped her with one hand, and his shield with the other. then they all hurried about the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself. and while they all sought their arms bendigeid vran supported branwen between his shield and his shoulder. and they fought. then the irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, and they cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full; and the next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before, except that they were not able to speak. then when evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of the island of the mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart, "alas! woe is me, that i should have been the cause of bringing the men of the island of the mighty into so great a strait. evil betide me if i find not a deliverance therefrom." and he cast himself among the dead bodies of the irish; and two unshod irishmen came to him, and, taking him to be one of the irish, flung him into the caldron. and he stretched himself out in the caldron, so that he rent the caldron into four pieces, and burst his own heart also. in consequence of this, the men of the island of the mighty obtained such success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and bendigeid vran himself was wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. now the men that escaped were pryderi, manawyddan, taliesin, and four others. and bendigeid vran commanded them that they should cut off his head. "and take you my head," said he, "and bear it even unto the white mount in london, and bury it there with the face towards france. and so long as it lies there, no enemy shall ever land on the island." so they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith. and branwen was the eighth with them. and they came to land on aber alaw, and they sat down to rest. and branwen looked towards ireland, and towards the island of the mighty, to see if she could descry them. "alas!" said she, "woe is me that i was ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me." then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. and they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the alaw. then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them; and as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men and women. "have you any tidings?" said manawyddan. "we have none," said they, "save that caswallawn, [footnote: cassivellaunus.] the son of beli, has conquered the island of the mighty, and is crowned king in london." "what has become," said they, "of caradoc, the son of bran, and the seven men who were left with him in this island?" "caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of the men, and caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof." and the seven men journeyed on towards london, and they buried the head in the white mount, as bendigeid vran had directed them. [footnote: there is a triad upon the story of the head buried under the white tower of london, as a charm against invasion. arthur, it seems, proudly disinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his own strength alone.] chapter x manawyddan pwyll and rhiannon had a son, whom they named pryderi. and when he was grown up, pwyll, his father, died. and pryderi married kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy. now manawyddan returned from the war in ireland, and he found that his cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and heaviness came upon him. "alas! woe is me!" he exclaimed; "there is none save myself without a home and a resting-place." "lord," said pryderi, "be not so sorrowful. thy cousin is king of the island of the mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land or possessions." "yea," answered he, "but although this man is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any one in the place of my brother, bendigeid vran; neither can i be happy in the same dwelling with him." "wilt thou follow the counsel of another?" said pryderi. "i stand in need of counsel," he answered, "and what may that counsel be?" "seven cantrevs belong unto me," said pryderi, "wherein rhiannon, my mother, dwells. i will bestow her upon thee, and the seven cantrevs with her; and though thou hadst no possessions but those cantrevs only, thou couldst not have any fairer than they. do thou and rhiannon enjoy them, and if thou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these." "i do not, chieftain," said he. "heaven reward thee for the friendship! i will go with thee to seek rhiannon, and to look at thy possessions." "thou wilt do well," he answered; "and i believe that thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and when she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. even now her aspect is not uncomely." they set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last to dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by rhiannon and kicva. then began manawyddan and rhiannon to sit and to talk together; and his mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and he thought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty than she. "pryderi," said he, "i will that it be as thou didst say." "what saying was that?" asked rhiannon. "lady," said pryderi, "i did offer thee as a wife to manawyddan, the son of llyr." "by that will i gladly abide," said rhiannon. "right glad am i also," said manawyddan, "may heaven reward him who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!" and before the feast was over she became his bride. said pryderi, "tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and i will go into england to tender my homage unto caswallawn, the son of beli." "lord," said rhiannon, "caswallawn is in kent; thou mayest therefore tarry at the feast, and wait until he shall be nearer." "we will wait," he answered. so they finished the feast. and they began to make the circuit of dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. and as they went through the country, they had never seen lands more pleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greater plenty of honey and fish. and such was the friendship between these four, that they would not be parted from each other by night nor by day. and in the midst of all this he went to caswallawn at oxford, and tendered his homage; and honorable was his reception there, and highly was he praised for offering his homage. and after his return pryderi and manawyddan feasted and took their ease and pleasure. and they began a feast at narberth, for it was the chief palace. and when they had ended the first meal, while those who served them ate, they arose and went forth, and proceeded to the gorsedd, that is, the mount of narberth, and their retinue with them. and as they sat thus, behold a peal of thunder, and with the violence of the thunder-storm, lo! there came a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see the other. and after the mist it became light all around. and when they looked towards the place where they were wont to see the cattle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them. and truly all their companions were lost to them, without their knowing aught of what had befallen them, save those four only. "in the name of heaven," said manawyddan, "where are they of the court, and all my host beside? let us go and see." so they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, and to the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellar and in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. then they began to go through the land, and all the possessions that they had; and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothing but wild beasts. and when they had consumed their feast and all their provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting, and the honey of the wild swans. and one morning pryderi and manawyddan rose up to hunt, and they ranged their dogs and went forth. and some of the dogs ran before them, and came to a bush which was near at hand; but as soon as they were come to the bush, they hastily drew back, and returned to the men, their hair bristling up greatly. "let us go near to the bush," said pryderi, "and see what is in it." and as they came near, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from the bush. then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him; but he left the bush, and fell back a little way from the men, and made a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until the men had come near. and when the men came up, he fell back a second time, and betook him to flight. then they pursued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in a place where they had never before seen either stone or building. and the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him. now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the men began to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never before seen any building whatsoever. and from the top of the gorsedd they looked and listened for the dogs. but so long as they were there, they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerning them. "lord," said pryderi, "i will go into the castle to get tidings of the dogs." "truly," he replied, "thou wouldst be unwise to go into this castle, which thou hast never seen till now. if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. whosoever has cast a spell over this land, has caused this castle to be here." "of a truth," answered pryderi, "i cannot thus give up my dogs." and for all the counsel that manawyddan gave him, yet to the castle he went. when he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. but in the centre of the castle-floor he beheld a fountain with marble-work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from the air, to which he saw no end. and he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and with the rich workmanship of the bowl; and he went up to the bowl, and laid hold of it. and when he had taken hold of its his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl was placed; and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could not utter a word. and thus he stood. and manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. and late in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the palace. and as he entered, rhiannon looked at him. "where," said she, "are thy companion and thy dogs?" "behold," he answered, "the adventure that has befallen me." and he related it all unto her. "an evil companion hast thou been," said rhiannon, "and a good companion hast thou lost." and with that word she went out, and proceeded towards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her. the gate of the castle she found open. she was nothing daunted, and she went in. and as she went in, she perceived pryderi laying hold of the bowl, and she went towards him. "o my lord," said she, "what dost thou here?" and she took hold of the bowl with him; and as she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her feet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. and with that, as it became night, lo! there came thunder upon them, and a fall of mist; and thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it. when kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy, saw that there was no one in the palace but herself and manawyddan, she sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died. and manawyddan saw this. "thou art in the wrong," said he, "if through fear of me thou grievest thus. i call heaven to witness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than that which i will bear thee as long as heaven will that thou shouldst be thus. i declare to thee, that, were i in the dawn of youth, i would keep my faith unto pryderi, and unto thee also will i keep it. be there no fear upon thee, therefore." "heaven reward thee!" she said; "and that is what i deemed of thee." and the damsel thereupon took courage, and was glad. "truly, lady," said manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stay here; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. let us go into england; it is easiest for us to find support there." "gladly, lord," said she, "we will do so." and they set forth together to england. "lord," said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? take up one that is seemly." "none other will i take," answered he, "but that of making shoes." "lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a man so nobly born as thou." "by that however will i abide," said he. "i know nothing thereof," said kicva. "but i know," answered manawyddan, "and i will teach thee to stitch. we will not attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and will make the shoes from it." so they went into england, and went as far as hereford; and they betook themselves to making shoes. and he began by buying the best cordwain that could be had in the town, and none other would buy. and he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps; and he marked how it was done until he learned the method. and therefore is he called one of the three makers of gold shoes. and when they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town. but when the cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing (for as manawyddan shaped the work, so kicva stitched it), they came together and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them. and he had warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed together to slay him. "lord," said kicva, "wherefore should this be borne from these boors?" "nay," said he, "we will go back unto dyved." so towards dyved they set forth. now manawyddan, when he set out to return to dyved, took with him a burden of wheat. and he proceeded towards narberth, and there he dwelt. and never was he better pleased than when he saw narberth again, and the lands where he had been wont to hunt with pryderi and with rhiannon. and he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt the deer in their covert. and then he began to prepare some ground, and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. and no wheat in the world ever sprung up better. and the three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheat than it. and thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came. and he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, it was ripe. "i will reap this to-morrow," said he. and that night he went back to narberth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, he went to reap the croft; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. every one of the ears of the wheat was cut off from the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely away, and nothing but the straw left. and at this he marvelled greatly. then he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also was ripe. "verily," said he, "this will i reap to-morrow." and on the morrow he came with the intent to reap it; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. "o gracious heaven!" he exclaimed. "i know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the country with me." then he went to look at the third croft; and when he came there, finer wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe. "evil betide me," said he, "if i watch not here to-night. whoever carried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this, and i will know who it is." and he told kicva all that had befallen. "verily," said she, "what thinkest thou to do?" "i will watch the croft to-night," said he. and he went to watch the croft. and at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; and he looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. and he knew not what it was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and each of them, climbing up the straw, and bending it down with its weight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it away, leaving there the stalk; and he saw not a single straw there that had not a mouse to it. and they all took their way, carrying the ears with them. in wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice; but he could no more come up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot could scarce overtake it. and after this one he went, and he caught it, and put it in his glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with a string, and kept it with him, and returned to the palace. then he came to the hall where kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a peg. "what hast thou there, lord?" said kicva. "a thief," said he, "that i found robbing me." "what kind of a thief may it be, lord, that thou couldst put into thy glove?" said she. then he told her how the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. "and one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove; to- morrow i will hang it." "my lord," said she, "this is marvellous; but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be hanging such a reptile as this." "woe betide me," said he, "if i would not hang them all, could i catch them, and such as i have i will hang." "verily, lord," said she, "there is no reason that i should succor this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee. do therefore, lord, as thou wilt." then he went to the mound of narberth, taking the mouse with him. and he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. and while he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and poor and tattered garments. and it was now seven years since he had seen in that place either man or beast, except those four persons who had remained together until two of them were lost. "my lord," said the scholar, "good-day to thee." "heaven prosper thee, and my greeting be unto thee! and whence dost thou come, scholar?" asked he. "i come, lord, from singing in england; and wherefore dost thou inquire?" "because for the last seven years," answered he, "i have seen no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment." "truly, lord," said he, "i go through this land unto mine own. and what work art thou upon, lord?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief is that?" asked the scholar. "i see a creature in thy hand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal to thine to touch a reptile such as this. let it go forth free." "i will not let it go free, by heaven," said he; "i caught it robbing me, and the doom of a thief will i inflict upon it, and i will hang it." "lord," said he, "rather than see a man of rank equal to thine at such a work as this, i would give thee a pound, which i have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free." "i will not let it go free," said he, "neither will i sell it." "as thou wilt, lord," he answered; "i care naught." and the scholar went his way. and as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold, a priest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings. "good day to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee!" said manawyddan; "thy blessing." "the blessing of heaven be upon thee! and what, lord, art thou doing?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief, lord?" asked he. "a creature," he answered, "in form of a mouse. it has been robbing me, and i am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief." "lord," said he, "rather than see thee touch this reptile, i would purchase its freedom." "by my confession to heaven, neither will i sell it nor set it free." "it is true, lord, that it is worth nothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by touching such a reptile as this, i will give thee three pounds to let it go." "i will not, by heaven," said he, "take any price for it. as it ought, so shall it be hanged." and the priest went his way. then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was about to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with his sumpter-horses and his attendants. and the bishop himself came towards him. and he stayed his work. "lord bishop," said he, "thy blessing." "heaven's blessing be unto thee!" said he. "what work art thou upon?" "hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "is not that a mouse that i see in thy hand?" "yes," answered he, "and she has robbed me." "ay," said he, "since i have come at the doom of this reptile i will ransom it of thee. i will give thee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rank equal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. let it loose, and thou shalt have the money." "i declare to heaven that i will not let it loose." "if thou wilt not loose it for this, i will give thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free." "i will not set it free, by heaven, for as much again," said he. "if thou wilt not set it free for this, i will give thee all the horses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads of baggage, and the seven horses that they are upon." "by heaven, i will not," he replied. "since for this thou wilt not set it free, do so at what price soever thou wilt." "i will that rhiannon and pryderi be free," said he. "that thou shalt have," he answered. "not yet will i loose the mouse, by heaven." "what then wouldst thou?" "that the charm and the illusion be removed from the seven cantrevs of dyved." "this shalt thou have also; set therefore the mouse free." "i will not set it free, by heaven," said he, "till i know who the mouse may be." "she is my wife." "wherefore came she to me?" "to despoil thee," he answered. "i am lloyd, the son of kilwed, and i cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of dyved. and it was to avenge gawl, the son of clud, from the friendship i had towards him, that i cast the charm. and upon pryderi did i avenge gawl, the son of clud, for the game of badger in the bag, that pwyll, the son of auwyn, played upon him. and when it was known that thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn. and they went the first and the second night, and destroyed thy two crops. and the third night came unto me my wife and the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. and i transformed them. now she is not in her usual health. and had she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been able to overtake her; but since this has taken place, and she has been caught, i will restore to thee pryderi and rhiannon, and i will take the charm and illusion from off dyved. set her therefore free." "i will not set her free yet." "what wilt thou more?" he asked. "i will that there be no more charm upon the seven cantrevs of dyved, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth; moreover, that vengeance be never taken for this, either upon pryderi or rhiannon, or upon me." "all this shalt thou have. and truly thou hast done wisely in asking this. upon thy head would have lit all this trouble." "yea," said he, "for fear thereof was it that i required this." "set now my wife at liberty." "i will not," said he, "until i see pryderi and rhiannon with me free." "behold, here they come," he answered. and thereupon behold pryderi and rhiannon. and he rose up to meet them, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. "ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty," said the bishop. "hast thou not received all thou didst ask?" "i will release her, gladly," said he. and thereupon he set her free. then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. "look round upon thy land," said he, "and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled as it was in its best estate." and he rose up and looked forth. and when he looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds and dwellings. and thus ends this portion of the mabinogi. the following allusions to the preceding story are found in a letter of the poet southey to john rickman, esq., dated june th, : "you will read the mabinogeon, concerning which i ought to have talked to you. in the last, that most odd and arabian-like story of the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar, that helps to the date; but where did the cymri get the imagination that could produce such a tale? that enchantment of the basin hanging by the chain from heaven is in the wildest spirit of the arabian nights. i am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist in welsh. they throw no light on the origin of romance, everything being utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term, but they do open a new world of fiction; and if the date of their language be fixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, i cannot but think the mythological substance is of far earlier date; very probably brought from the east by some of the first settlers or conquerors." chapter xi kilwich and olwen kilydd, a son of prince kelyddon, desired a wife as a helpmate, and the wife that he chose was goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd. and after their union the people put up prayers that they might have an heir. and they had a son through the prayers of the people; and called his name kilwich. after this the boy's mother, goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, fell sick. then she called her husband to her, and said to him, "of this sickness i shall die, and thou wilt take another wife. now wives are the gift of the lord, but it would be wrong for thee to harm thy son. therefore i charge thee that thou take not a wife until thou see a briar with two blossoms upon my grave." and this he promised her. then she besought him to dress her grave every year, that no weeds might grow thereon. so the queen died. now the king sent an attendant every morning to see if anything were growing upon the grave. and at the end of the seventh year they neglected that which they had promised to the queen. one day the king went to hunt; and he rode to the place of burial, to see the grave, and to know if it were time that he should take a wife: and the king saw the briar. and when he saw it, the king took counsel where he should find a wife. said one of his counsellors, "i know a wife that will suit thee well; and she is the wife of king doged." and they resolved to go to seek her; and they slew the king, and brought away his wife. and they conquered the kings' lands. and he married the widow of king doged, the sister of yspadaden penkawr. and one day his stepmother said to kilwich, "it were well for thee to have a wife." "i am not yet of an age to wed," answered the youth. then said she unto him, "i declare to thee that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." and the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her. and his father inquired of him, "what has come over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?" "my stepmother has declared to me that i shall never have a wife until i obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "that will be easy for thee," answered his father. "arthur is thy cousin. go, therefore, unto arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon." and the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled gray, four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costly gold. and in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp, well-tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed-grass, when the dew of june is at the heaviest. a gold-hilted sword was upon his thigh, the blade of which was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaid gold of the hue of the lightning of heaven. his war-horn was of ivory. before him were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder to the ear. and the one that was upon the left side bounded across to the right side, and the one on the right to the left, and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. and his courser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swallows in the air, about his head, now above, now below. about him was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundred kine. and there was precious gold of the value of three hundred kine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to the tip of his toe. and the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so light was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of arthur's palace. spoke the youth: "is there a porter?" "there is; and if thou holdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. i am arthur's porter every first day of january." "open the portal." "i will not open it." "wherefore not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in arthur's hall; and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft. but there will be refreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee there will be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and mirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto thee in the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of other countries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace of arthur. thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst with arthur in the court. a lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull thee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is open for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall it be opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt choose in arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower." said the youth: "that will i not do. if thou openest the gate, it is well. if thou dost not open it, i will bring disgrace upon thy lord, and evil report upon thee. and i will set up three shouts at this very gate, than which none were ever heard more deadly." "what clamor soever thou mayest make," said glewlwyd, the porter, "against the laws of arthur's palace, shalt thou not enter therein, until i first go and speak with arthur." then glewlwyd went into the hall. and arthur said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "half of my life is passed," said glewlwyd, "and half of thine. i was heretofore in kaer se and asse, in sach and salach, in lotor and fotor, and i have been in india the great and india the lesser, and i have also been in europe and africa, and in the islands of corsica, and i was present when thou didst conquer greece in the east. nine supreme sovereigns, handsome men, saw we there, but never did i behold a man of equal dignity with him who is now at the door of the portal." then said arthur: "if walking thou didst enter here, return thou running. it is unbecoming to keep such a man as thou sayest he is in the wind and the rain." said kay: "by the hand of my friend, if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not break through the laws of the court because of him." "not so, blessed kay," said arthur; "it is an honor to us to be resorted to, and the greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renown and our fame and our glory." and glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before kilwich: and although all dismounted upon the horse-block at the gate, yet did he not dismount, but he rode in upon his charger. then said he, "greeting be unto thee, sovereign ruler of this island, and be this greeting no less unto the lowest than unto the highest, and be it equally unto thy guests, and thy warriors, and thy chieftains; let all partake of it as completely as thyself. and complete be thy favor, and thy fame, and thy glory, throughout all this island." "greeting unto thee also," said arthur; "sit thou between two of my warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels before thee, and thou shalt enjoy the privileges of a king born to a throne, as long as thou remainest here. and when i disperse my presents to the visitors and strangers in this court, they shall be in thy hand at my commencing." said the youth, "i came not here to consume meat and drink; but if i obtain the boon that i seek, i will requite it thee, and extol thee; but if i have it not, i will bear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as far as thy renown has extended." then said arthur, "since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries, and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends; save only my ship prydwen, and my mantle, and caliburn, my sword, and rhongomyant, my lance, and guenever, my wife. by the truth of heaven, thou shalt have it cheerfuly, name what thou wilt." "i would that thou bless my hair," said he. "that shall be granted thee." and arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the loops were of silver, and he combed his hair. and arthur inquired of him who he was; "for my heart warms unto thee, and i know that thou art come of my blood. tell me, therefore, who thou art." "i will tell thee," said the youth. "i am kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon, by goleudyd, my mother, the daughter of prince anlawd." "that is true," said arthur; "thou art my cousin. whatsoever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it what it may that thy tongue shall name." "pledge the truth of heaven and the faith of thy kingdom thereof." "i pledge it thee gladly." "i crave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr, to wife; and this boon i likewise seek at the hands of thy warriors. i seek it from kay and from bedwyr; and from gwynn, the son of nudd, and gadwy, the son of geraint, and prince flewddur flam and iona, king of france, and sel, the son of selgi, and taliesin, the chief of the bards, and geraint, the son of erbin, garanwyn, the son of kay, and amren, the son of bedwyr, ol, the son of olwyd, bedwin, the bishop, guenever, the chief lady, and guenhywach, her sister, morved, the daughter of urien, and gwenlian deg, the majestic maiden, creiddylad, [footnote: creiddylad is no other than shakspeare's cordelia, whose father, king lear, is by the welsh authorities called indiscriminately llyr or lludd. all the old chronicles give the story of her devotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have been aware that she is destined to remain with him till the day of doom, whilst gwyn ap nudd, the king of the fairies, and gwythyr op greidiol, fight for her every first of may, and whichever of them may be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time will obtain her as a bride.] the daughter of lludd, the constant maiden, and ewaedah, the daughter of kynvelyn, [footnote: the welsh have a fable on the subject of the half man, taken to be illustrative of the force of habit. in this allegory arthur is supposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a small and indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases in size, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors to provoke the king to wrestle. despising his weakness, and considering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, arthur refuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the half man (habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost efforts to overcome him.] the half-man." all these did kilwich, the son of kilydd, adjure to obtain his boon. then said arthur, "o chieftain, i have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but i will gladly send messengers in search of her. give me time to seek her." and the youth said, "i will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so." then arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden, and at the end of the year arthur's messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or intelligence concerning olwen, more than on the first day. then said kilwich, "every one has received his boon, and i yet lack mine. i will depart, and bear away thy honor with me." then said kay, "rash chieftain! dost thou reproach arthur? go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." thereupon kay rose up. and arthur called bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which kay was bound. none were equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except arthur alone; and although he was one handed; three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. and arthur called to kyndelig, the guide, "go thou upon this expedition with the chieftain." for as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. he called gurhyr gwalstat, because he knew all tongues. he called gawain, the son of gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. and arthur called meneu, the son of teirgwed, in order that, if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them, whilst they could see every one. they journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of the world. and when they came before the castle, they beheld a vast flock of sheep. and upon the top of a mound there was a herdsman keeping the sheep. and a rug made of skins was upon him, and by his side was a shaggy mastiff, larger than a steed nine winters old. then said kay, "gurhyr gwalstat, go thou and salute yonder man." "kay," said he, "i engaged not to go further than thou thyself." "let us go then together." answered kay. said meneu, "fear not to go thither, for i will cast a spell upon the dog, so that he shall injure no one." and they went up to the mound whereon the herdsman was, and they said to him, "how dost thou fare, herdsman?" "not less fair be it to you than to me." "whose are the sheep that thou dost keep, and to whom does yonder castle belong?" "stupid are ye, truly! not to know that this is the castle of yspadaden penkawr. and ye also, who are ye?" "we are an embassy from arthur, come to seek olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "o men! the mercy of heaven be upon you; do not that for all the world. none who ever came hither on this quest has returned alive." and the herdsman rose up. and as he rose kilwich gave unto him a ring of gold. and he went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep. and she took the ring when it was given her, and she said, "whence came this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune." "o wife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here this evening." "and who is he?" asked the woman. "kilwich, the son of kilydd, by goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, who is come to seek olwen as his wife." and when she heard that, she had joy that her nephew, the son of her sister, was coming to her, and sorrow, because she had never known any one depart alive who had come on that quest. and the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's dwelling. and when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out with joy to meet them. and kay snatched a billet out of the pile. and when she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks. and kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. "o woman," said kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. evil love were this." they entered into the house and were served; and soon after, they all went forth to amuse themselves. then the woman opened a stone chest that was before the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth with yellow, curling hair. said gurhyr, "it is a pity to hide this youth. i know that it is not his own crime that is thus visited upon him." "this is but a remnant," said the woman. "three and twenty of my sons has yspadaden penkawr slain, and i have no more hope of this one than of the others." then said kay, "let him come and be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless i also am slain with him." and they ate. and the woman asked them, "upon what errand come you here?" "we come to seek olwen for this youth." then said the woman, "in the name of heaven, since no one from the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came." "heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seen the maiden. does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?" "she comes here every saturday to wash her head, and in the vessel where she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never either comes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them." "will she come here if she is sent to?" "heaven knows that i will not destroy my soul, nor will i betray those that trust me; unless you will pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, i will not send to her." "we pledge it," said they. so a message was sent, and she came. the maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. more yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, [footnote: the romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. this taste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was an object of education. even when wigs came into fashion they were all flaxen. such was the color of the hair of the gauls and of their german conquerors. it required some centuries to reconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their spanish and italian neighbors.] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. the eye of the trained hawk was not brighter than hers. her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. whoso beheld her was filled with her love. four white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. and therefore was she called olwen. she entered the house and sat beside kilwich upon the foremost bench; and as soon as he saw her, he knew her. and kilwich said unto her, "ah! maiden, thou art she whom i have loved; come away with me, lest they speak evil of thee and of me. many a day have i loved thee." "i cannot do this, for i have pledged my faith to my father not to go without his counsel, for his life will last only until the time of my espousals. whatever is to be, must be. but i will give thee advice, if thou wilt take it. go, ask me of my father, and that which he shall require of thee, grant it, and thou wilt obtain me; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt not obtain me, and it will be well for thee if thou escape with thy life." "i promise all this, if occasion offer," said he. she returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and followed her to the castle. and they slew the nine porters, that were at the nine gates, in silence. and they slew the nine watch-dogs without one of them barking. and they went forward to the hall. "the greeting of heaven and of man be unto thee, yspadaden penkawr," said they. "and you, wherefore come you?" "we come to ask thy daughter olwen for kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon." "where are my pages and my servants? raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." and they did so. "come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer." they rose to go forth, and yspadaden penkawr seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it after them. and bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced yspadaden penkawr grievously with it through the knee. then he said, "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! i shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness, and shall ever be without a cure. this poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil on which it was wrought! so sharp is it!" that night also they took up their abode in the house of the herdsman. the next day, with the dawn, they arrayed themselves and proceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and they said, "yspadaden penkawr, give us thy daughter in consideration of her dower and her maiden fee, which we will pay to thee, and to her two kinswomen likewise." then he said, "her four great- grandmothers and her four great-grandsires are yet alive; it is needful that i take counsel of them." "be it so," they answered, "we will go to meat." as they rose up he took the second dart that was beside him, and cast it after them. and meneu, the son of gawedd, caught it, and flung it back at him, and wounded him in the centre of the breast. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly!" said he; "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith who formed it! so sharp is it! henceforth, whenever i go up hill, i shall have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and i shall often loathe my food." and they went to meat. and the third day they returned to the palace. and yspadaden penkawr said to them, "shoot not at me again unless you desire death. where are my attendants? lift up the forks of my eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyeballs, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." then they arose, and, as they did so, yspadaden penkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them. and kilwich caught it, and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! as long as i remain alive, my eyesight will be the worse. whenever i go against the wind, my eyes will water; and peradventure my head will burn, and i shall have a giddiness every new moon. like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. cursed be the fire in which it was forged!" and they went to meat. and the next day they came again to the palace, and they said, "shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt and harm and torture as thou now hast, and even more." said kilwich, "give me thy daughter; and if thou wilt not give her, thou shalt receive thy death because of her." "where is he that seeks my daughter? come hither where i may see thee." and they placed him a chair face to face with him. said yspadaden penkawr, "is it thou that seekest my daughter?" "it is i," answered kilwich. "i must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me otherwise than is just; and when i have gotten that which i shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." "i promise thee that willingly," said kilwich; "name what thou wilt." "i will do so," said he. "seest thou yonder red tilled ground?" "i see it." "when first i met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels of flax were sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white nor black. i require to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that when it grows up it may make a white wimple for my daughter's head on the day of thy wedding." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the harp of teirtu, to play to us that night. when a man desires that it should play, it does so of itself; and when he desires that it should cease, it ceases. and this he will not give of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. i require thee to get me for my huntsman mabon, the son of modron. he was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi; no leash in the world will hold them, but a leash made from the beard of dillus varwawc, the robber. and the leash will be of no avail unless it be plucked from his beard while he is alive. while he lives he will not suffer this to be done to him, and the leash will be of no use should he be dead, because it will be brittle." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the sword of gwernach the giant; of his own free will he will not give it, and thou wilt never be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. difficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without sleep, in seeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt thou obtain my daughter." "horses shall i have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman, arthur, will obtain for me all these things. and i shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." "go forward. and thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for thy wife." chapter xii kilwich and olwen (continued) all that day they journeyed until the evening, and then they beheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the world. and lo! a black man, larger than three of the men of this world, came out from the castle. and they spoke unto him, and said, "o man, whose castle is that?" "stupid are ye, truly, o men! there is no one in the world that does not know that this is the castle of gwernach the giant." "what treatment is there for guests and strangers that alight in that castle?" "o chieftain, heaven protect thee! no guests ever returned thence alive, and no one may enter therein unless he brings with him his craft." then they proceeded towards the gate. said gurhyr gwalstat, "is there a porter?" "there is; wherefore dost thou call?" "open the gate." "i will not open it." "wherefore wilt thou not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of gwernach the giant; and except for a craftsman who brings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night." "verily, porter," then said kay, "my craft bring i with me." "what is thy craft?" "the best burnisher of swords am i in the world." "i will go and tell this unto gwernach the giant, and i will bring thee an answer." so the porter went in, and gwernach said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "i have. there is a party at the door of the gate who desire to come in." "didst thou inquire of them if they possessed any art?" "i did inquire," said he, "and one told me that he was well skilled in the burnishing of swords." "we have need of him then. for some time have i sought for some one to polish my sword, and could find no one. let this man enter, since he brings with him his craft." the porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. and kay went in by himself, and he saluted gwernach the giant. and a chair was placed for him opposite to gwernach. and gwernach said to him, "o man, is it true that is reported of thee, that thou knowest how to burnish swords?" "i know full well how to do so," answered kay. then was the sword of gwernach brought to him. and kay took a blue whetstone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have it burnished white or blue. "do with it as it seems good to thee, or as thou wouldst if it were thine own." then kay polished one half of the blade, and put it in his hand. "will this please thee?" asked he. "i would rather than all that is in my dominions that the whole of it were like this. it is a marvel to me that such a man as thou should be without a companion." "o noble sir, i have a companion, albeit he is not skilled in this art." "who may he be?" "let the porter go forth, and i will tell him whereby he may know him. the head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw blood from the wind, and will descend upon its shaft again." then the gate was opened, and bedwyr entered. and kay said, "bedwyr is very skilful, though he knows not this art." and there was much discourse among those who were without, because that kay and bedwyr had gone in. and a young man who was with them, the only son of the herdsman, got in also; and he contrived to admit all the rest, but they kept themselves concealed. the sword was now polished, and kay gave it unto the hand of gwernach the giant, to see if he were pleased with his work. and the giant said, "the work is good; i am content therewith." said kay, "it is thy scabbard that hath rusted thy sword; give it to me, that i may take out the wooden sides of it, and put in new ones." and he took the scabbard from him, and the sword in the other hand. and he came and stood over against the giant, as if he would have put the sword into the scabbard; and with it he struck at the head of the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. then they despoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewels they would. and they returned to arthur's court, bearing with them the sword of gwernach the giant. and when they told arthur how they had sped, arthur said, "it is a good beginning." then they took counsel, and said, "which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best," said one, "to seek mabon, the son of modron; and he will not be found unless we first find eidoel, the son of aer, his kinsman." then arthur rose up, and the warriors of the island of britain with him, to seek for eidoel; and they proceeded until they came to the castle of glivi, where eidoel was imprisoned. glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and he said, "arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and i have neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? seek not, therefore, to do me harm." said arthur, "not to injure thee came i hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee." "i will give thee my prisoner, though i had not thought to give him up to any one, and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid." his followers said unto arthur, "lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these." then said arthur, "it were well for thee, gurhyr gwalstat, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. thou, eidoel, oughtest likewise to go with thy men in search of thy cousin. and as for you, kay and bedwyr, i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. achieve ye this adventure for me." they went forward until they came to the ousel of cilgwri. and gurhyr adjured her, saying, "tell me if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall?" and the ousel answered, "when i first came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and i was then a young bird; and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening; and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet during all that time i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will do that which it is fitting that i should for an embassy from arthur. there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and i will be your guide to them." so they proceeded to the place where was the stag of redynvre. "stag of redynvre, behold, we are come to thee, an embassy from arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. say, knowest thou aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when three nights old?" the stag said, "when first i came hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches; and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this i have been here, yet have i never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, being an embassy from arthur, i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before i was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one that has travelled most, the eagle of gwern abwy." gurhyr said, "eagle of gwern abwy, we have come to thee, an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when he was three nights old?" the eagle said, "i have been here for a great space of time, and when i first came hither, there was a rock here from the top of which i pecked at the stars every evening; and it has crumbled away, and now it is not so much as a span high. all that time i have been here, and i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when i went in search of food as far as llyn llyw. and when i came there, i struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. but he drew me into the water, and i was scarcely able to escape from him. after that i made peace with him. and i drew fifty fish- spears out of his back, and relieved him. unless he know something of him whom you seek, i cannot tell who may. however, i will guide you to the place where he is." so they went thither; and the eagle said, "salmon of llyn llyw, i have come to thee with an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken away at three nights old from his mother." "as much as i know i will tell thee. with every tide i go along the river upward, until i come near to the walls of gloucester, and there have i found such wrong as i never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." so kay and gurhyr gwalstat went upon the two shoulders of the salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of the prison; and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. said gurhyr, "who is it that laments in this house of stone?" "alas! it is mabon, the son of modron, who is here imprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine." "hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or for any gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?" "by fighting will what ever i may gain be obtained." then they went thence, and returned to arthur, and they told him where mabon, the son of modron, was imprisoned. and arthur summoned the warriors of the island, and they journeyed as far as gloucester, to the place where mabon was in prison. kay and bedwyr went upon the shoulders of the fish, whilst the warriors of arthur attacked the castle. and kay broke through the wall into the dungeon, and brought away the prisoner upon his back, whilst the fight was going on between the warriors. and arthur returned home, and mabon with him at liberty. on a certain day as gurhyr gwalstat was walking over a mountain, he heard a wailing and a grievous cry. and when he heard it, he sprang forward and went towards it. and when he came there, he saw a fire burning among the turf, and an ant-hill nearly surrounded with the fire. and he drew his sword, and smote off the ant-hill close to the earth, so that it escaped being burned in the fire. and the ants said to him, "receive from us the blessing of heaven, and that which no man can give, we give thee." then they fetched the nine bushels of flax-seed which yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lacking any, except one flax-seed, and that the lame pismire brought in before night. then said arthur, "which of the marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best to seek for the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi." "is it known," said arthur, "where she is?" "she is in aber cleddyf," said one. then arthur went to the house of tringad, in aber cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he had heard of her there. "she has often slain my herds, and she is there below in a cave in aber cleddyf." ther arthur went in his ship prydwen by sea, and the others went by land to hunt her. and they surrounded her and her two cubs, and took them and carried them away. as kay and bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on the summit of plinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked around them and saw a great smoke, afar off. then said kay, "by the hand of my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber." then they hastened towards the smoke, and they came so near to it that they could see dillus varwawc scorching a wild boar. "behold, yonder is the greatest robber that ever fled from arthur," said bedwyr to kay. "dost thou know him?" "i do know him," answered kay; "he is dillus varwarc, and no leash in the world will be able to hold the cubs of gast rhymi, save a leash made from the beard of him thou seest yonder. and even that will be useless unless his beard be plucked out alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle." "what thinkest thou that we should do concerning this?" said bedwyr. "let us suffer him." said kay, "to eat as much as he will of the meat, and after that he will fall asleep." and during that time they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. and when kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a pit under his feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and squeezed him into the pit. and there they twitched out his beard completely with the wooden tweezers, and after that they slew him altogether. and from thence they went, and took the leash made of dillus varwawc's beard, and they gave it into arthur's hand. thus they got all the marvels that yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich; and they set forward, and took the marvels to his court. and kilwich said to yspadaden penkawr, "is thy daughter mine now?" "she is thine," said he, "but therefore needest thou not thank me, but arthur, who hath accomplished this for thee." then goreu, the son of custennin, the herdsman, whose brothers yspadaden penkawr had slain, seized him by the hair of his head, and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head, and placed it on a stake on the citadel. then they took possession of his castle, and of his treasures. and that night olwen became kilwich's bride, and she continued to be his wife as long as she lived. chapter xiii taliesin gwyddno garanhir was sovereign of gwaelod, a territory bordering on the sea. and he possessed a weir upon the strand between dyvi and aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds was taken in that weir every may eve. and gwyddno had an only son named elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the most needy. and it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he was born in an evil hour. by the advice of his council, his father had granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good luck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith to begin the world. and this was on the twenty-ninth of april. the next day, when elphin went to look, there was nothing in the weir but a leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. then said the weir-ward unto elphin, "all thy ill-luck aforetime was nothing to this; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds every may eve; and to-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it." "how now," said elphin, "there may be therein the value of a hundred pounds." well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the forehead of an infant, the fairest that ever was seen; and he said, "behold a radiant brow?" (in the welsh language, taliesin.) "taliesin be he called," said elphin. and he lifted the bag in his arms, and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boy sorrowfully behind him. and he made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in the world. and presently the boy made a consolation, and praise to elphin; and the consolation was as you may here see: "fair elphin, cease to lament! never in gwyddno's weir was there such good luck as this night. being sad will not avail; better to trust in god than to forbode ill; weak and small as i am, on the foaming beach of the ocean, in the day of trouble i shall be of more service to thee than three hundred salmon." this was the first poem that taliesin ever sung, being to console elphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, and what was worse, that all the world would consider that it was through his fault and ill-luck. then elphin asked him what he was, whether man or spirit. and he sung thus: "i have been formed a comely person; although i am but little, i am highly gifted; into a dark leathern bag i was thrown, and on a boundless sea i was sent adrift. from seas and from mountains god brings wealth to the fortunate man." then came elphin to the house of gwyddno, his father, and taliesin with him. gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at the weir, and he told him that he had got that which was better than fish. "what was that?" said gwyddno. "a bard," said elphin. then said gwyddno, "alas! what will he profit thee?" and taliesin himself replied and said, "he will profit him more than the weir ever profited thee." asked gwyddno, "art thou able to speak, and thou so little?" and taliesin answered him, "i am better able to speak than thou to question me." "let me hear what thou canst say," quoth gwyddno. then taliesin sang: "three times have i been born, i know by meditation; all the sciences of the world are collected in my breast, for i know what has been, and what hereafter will occur." elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly and lovingly. thenceforward elphin increased in riches more and more, day after day, and in love and favor with the king; and there abode taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when elphin, son of gwyddno, went by a christmas invitation to his uncle, maelgan gwynedd, who held open court at christmas-tide in the castle of dyganwy, for all the number of his lords of both degrees, both spiritual and temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knights and squires. and one arose and said, "is there in the whole world a king so great as maelgan, or one on whom heaven has bestowed so many gifts as upon him;--form, and beauty, and meekness, and strength, besides all the powers of the soul?" and together with these they said that heaven had given one gift that exceeded all the others, which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, and modesty of his queen, whose virtues surpassed those of all the ladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. and with this they put questions one to another, who had braver men? who had fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds? who had more skilful or wiser bards than maelgan? when they had all made an end of their praising the king and his gifts, it befell that elphin spoke on this wise. "of a truth, none but a king may vie with a king; but were he not a king, i would say that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, and also that i have a bard who is more skilful than all the king's bards." in a short space some of his fellows told the king all the boastings of elphin; and the king ordered him to be thrown into a strong prison, until he might show the truth as to the virtues of his wife, and the wisdom of his bard. now when elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with a thick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain, because he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates, sent his son rhun to inquire into the demeanor of elphin's wife. now rhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there was neither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but was evil spoken of. while rhun went in haste towards elphin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace upon his wife, taliesin told his mistress how that the king had placed his master in durance in prison, and how that rhun was coming in haste to strive to bring disgrace upon her. wherefore he caused his mistress to array one of the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble lady gladly did, and she loaded her hands with the best rings that she and her husband possessed. in this guise taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden to sit at the board in her room at supper; and he made her to seem as her mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. and when they were in due time seated at their supper, in the manner that has been said, rhun suddenly arrived at elphin's dwelling, and was received with joy, for the servants knew him; and they brought him to the room of their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maid rose up from supper and welcomed him gladly. and afterwards she sat down to supper again, and rhun with her. then rhun began jesting with the maid, who still kept the semblance of her mistress. and verily this story shows that the maiden became so intoxicated that she fell asleep; and the story relates that it was a powder that rhun put into the drink, that made her sleep so soundly that she never felt it when he cut off from her hand her little finger, whereon was the signet ring of elphin, which he had sent to his wife as a token a short time before. and rhun returned to the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that he had cut it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleep of intemperance. the king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for his councillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning. and he caused elphin to be brought out of prison, and he chided him because of his boast. and he spake on this wise: "elphin, be it known to thee beyond a doubt, that it is but folly for a man to trust in the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; and that thou mayest be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold her finger, with thy signet ring upon it, which was cut from her hand last night, while she slept the sleep of intoxication." then thus spake elphin: "with thy leave, mighty king, i cannot deny my ring, for it is known of many; but verily i assert that the finger around which it is was never attached to the hand of my wife; for in truth and certainty there are three notable things pertaining to it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers. the first of the three is, that it is certainly known to me that this ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you can plainly see that it is hard to draw it over the joint of the little finger of the hand whence this was cut. the second thing is, that my wife has never let pass one saturday since i have known her, without paring her nails before going to bed, and you can see fully that the nail of this little finger has not been pared for a month. the third is, truly, that the hand whence this finger came was kneading rye dough within three days before the finger was cut therefrom, and i can assure your highness that my wife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she has been." the king was mightily wroth with elphin for so stoutly withstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife; wherefore he ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that he should not be loosed thence until he had proved the truth of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the virtues of his wife. in the meantime his wife and taliesin remained joyful at elphin's dwelling. and taliesin showed his mistress how that elphin was in prison because of them; but he bade her be glad, for that he would go to maelgan's court to free his master. so he took leave of his mistress, and came to the court of maelgan, who was going to sit in his hall, and dine in his royal state, as it was the custom in those days for kings and princes to do at every chief feast. as soon as taliesin entered the hall he placed himself in a quiet corner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were wont to come, in doing their service and duty to the king, as is the custom at the high festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. so, when the bards and the heralds came to cry largess, and to proclaim the power of the king, and his strength, at the moment when they passed by the corner wherein he was crouching, taliesin pouted out his lips after them, and played "blerwm, blerwm!" with his finger upon his lips. neither took they much notice of him as they went by but proceeded forward till they came before the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their bodies, as they were wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting out their lips, and making mouths at the king, playing, "blerwm, blerwm!" upon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do. this sight caused the king to wonder, and to deem within himself that they were drunk with many liquors. wherefore he commanded one of his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desire them to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, and what it was fitting for them to do. and this lord did so gladly. but they ceased not from their folly any more than before. whereupon he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiring them to go forth from the hall. at the last the king ordered one of his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named heinin vardd; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the head, so that he fell back in his seat. then he arose, and went on his knees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that this their fault was not through want of knowledge, neither through drunkenness, but by the influence of some spirit that was in the hall. and he spoke on this wise: "o honorable king, be it known to your grace that not from the strength of drink, or of too much liquor, are we dumb, but through the influence of a spirit that sits in the corner yonder, in the form of a child." forthwith the king commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the nook where taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked him what he was, and whence he came. and he answered the king in verse: "primary chief bard am i to elphin, and my native country is the region of the summer stars; i have been in asia with noah in the ark, i have seen the destruction of sodom and gomorrah, i was in india when rome was built, i have now come here to the remnant of troia." when the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wondered much, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he. and when the king knew that he was the bard of elphin he bade heinin, his first and wisest bard, to answer taliesin, and to strive with him. but when he came he could do no other than play "blerwm!" on his lips; and when he sent for the others of the four and twenty bards, they all did likewise, and could do no other. and maelgan asked the boy taliesin what was his errand, and he answered him in song: "elphin, the son of gwyddno, is in the land of artro, secured by thirteen locks, for praising his instructor. therefore i, taliesin, chief of the bards of the west, will loosen elphin out of a golden fetter." then he sang to them a riddle: "discover thou what is the strong creature from before the flood, without flesh, without bone, without vein, without blood, without head, without feet; it will neither be older nor younger than at the beginning. behold how the sea whitens when first it comes, when it comes from the south, when it strikes on coasts it is in the field, it is in the wood, but the eye cannot perceive it. one being has prepared it, by a tremendous blast, to wreak vengeance on maelgan gwynedd." while he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that the castle would fall upon their heads. and the king caused them to fetch elphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before taliesin. and it is said that immediately he sung a verse, so that the chains opened from about his feet. after that taliesin brought elphin's wife before them, and showed that she had not one finger wanting. and in this manner did he set his master free from prison, and protect the innocence of his mistress, and silence the bards so that not one of them dared to say a word. right glad was elphin, right glad was taliesin. hero myths of the british race beowulf notable among the names of heroes of the british race is that of beowulf, which appeals to all english-speaking people in a very special way, since he is the one hero in whose story we may see the ideals of our english forefathers before they left their continental home to cross to the islands of britain. although this hero had distinguished himself by numerous feats of strength during his boyhood and early youth, it was as the deliverer of hrothgar, king of denmark, from the monster grendel that he first gained wide renown. grendel was half monster and half man, and had his abode in the fen-fastnesses in the vicinity of hrothgar's residence. night after night he would steal into the king's great palace called heorot and slay sometimes as many as thirty at one time of the knights sleeping there. beowulf put himself at the head of a selected band of warriors, went against the monster, and after a terrible fight slew it. the following night grendel's mother, a fiend scarcely less terrible than her son, carried off one of hrothgar's boldest thanes. once more beowulf went to the help of the danish king, followed the she-monster to her lair at the bottom of a muddy lake in the midst of the swamp, and with his good sword hrunting and his own muscular arms broke the sea-woman's neck. upon his return to his own country of the geats, loaded with honors bestowed upon him by hrothgar, beowulf served the king of geatland as the latter's most trusted counsellor and champion. when, after many years, the king fell before an enemy, the geats unanimously chose beowulf for their new king. his fame as a warrior kept his country free from invasion, and his wisdom as a statesman increased its prosperity and happiness. in the fiftieth year of beowulf's reign, however, a great terror fell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, which flew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up the blackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses and homesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. when the news came to beowulf that his people were suffering and dying, and that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver the country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took up his shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. at the entrance of the dragon's cave beowulf raised his voice and shouted a furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. roaring hideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragon rushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on beowulf. then began a fearful combat, which ended in beowulf's piercing the dragon's scaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himself being given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangs which resulted in his death. as he lay stretched on the ground, his head supported by wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped in the fight with the dragon, beowulf roused himself to say, as he grasped wiglaf's hand: "thou must now look to the needs of the nation; here dwell i no longer, for destiny calleth me! bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head; so that the seafarers beowulf's barrow henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide over the mighty flood their foamy keels. thou art the last of all the kindred of wagmund! wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away! now must i follow them!" these last words spoken, the king of the geats, brave to seek danger and brave to look on death and fate undaunted, fell back dead. according to his last desires, his followers gathered wood and piled it on the cliff-head. upon this funeral pyre was laid beowulf's body and consumed to ashes. then, upon the same cliff of hronesness, was erected a huge burial cairn, wide-spread and lofty, to be known thereafter as beowulf's barrow. cuchulain, champion of ireland among all the early literatures of europe, there are two which, at exactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly similar characteristics. these are the greek and the irish, and the legend of the irish champion cuchulain, which well illustrates the similarity of the literatures, bears so close a resemblance to the story of achilles as to win for this hero the title of "the irish achilles." certainly in reckless courage, power of inspiring dread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the irish hero is fully equal to the mighty greek. cuchulain was the nephew of king conor of ulster, son of his sister dechtire, and it is said that his father was no mortal man, but the great god lugh of the long hand. cuchulain was brought up by king conor himself, and even while he was still a boy his fame spread all over ireland. his warlike deeds were those of a proved warrior, not of a child of nursery age; and by the time cuchulain was seventeen he was without peer among the champions of ulster. upon cuchulain's marriage to emer, daughter of forgall the wily, a druid of great power, the couple took up their residence at armagh, the capital of ulster, under the protection of king conor. here there was one chief, bricriu of the bitter tongue, who, like thersites among the grecian leaders, delighted in making mischief. soon he had on foot plans for stirring up strife among the heroes of ulster, leaders among whom were the mighty laegaire, conall cearnach, cousin of cuchulain, and cuchulain himself. inviting the members of king conor's court to dinner, bricriu arranged that a contest should arise over who should have the "champion's portion," and so successful was he that, to avoid a bloody fight, the three heroes mentioned decided to submit their claims to the championship of ireland to king ailill of connaught. ailill put the heroes to an unexpected test. their dinner was served them in a separate room, into which three magic beasts, in the shape of monstrous cats, were sent by the king. when they saw them laegire and conall rose from their meal, climbed among the rafters, and stayed there all night. cuchulain waited until one cat attacked him, and then, drawing his sword, struck the monster. it showed no further sign of fight, and at daybreak the magic beasts disappeared. as laegire and conall claimed that this test was an unfair one, ailill sent the three rivals to curoi of kerry, a just and wise man, who set out to discover by wizardry and enchantments the best among the heroes. in turn they stood watch outside curoi's castle, where laegire and conall were overcome by a huge giant, who hurled spears of mighty oak trees, and ended by throwing them over the wall into the courtyard. cuchulain alone withstood the giant, whereupon he was attacked by other magic foes. among these was a dragon, which flew on horrible wings from a neighboring lake, and seemed ready to devour everything in its way. cuchulain sprang up, giving his wonderful hero-leap, thrust his arm into the dragon's mouth and down its throat, and tore out its heart. after the monster fell dead, he cut off its scaly head. as even yet cuchulain's opponents would not admit his championship, they were all three directed to return to armagh, to await curoi's judgment. here it happened that all the ulster heroes were in the great hall one night, except cuchulain and his cousin conall. as they sat in order of rank, a terrible stranger, gigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening yellow eyes, entered. in his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen and shining edge. upon king conor's inquiring his business there, the stranger replied: "behold my axe! the man who will grasp it to-day may cut my head off with it, provided that i may, in like manner, cut off his head to-morrow. if you have no champion who dare face me, i will say that ulster has lost her courage and is dishonored." at once laegire accepted the challenge. the giant laid his head on a block, and at a blow the hero severed it from the body. thereupon the giant arose, took the head and the axe, and thus, headless, strode from the hall. but the following night, when he returned, sound as ever, to claim the fulfilment of laegire's promise, the latter's heart failed him and he did not come forward. the stranger then jeered at the men of ulster because their great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face the blow he should receive in return for the one he gave. the men of ulster were utterly ashamed, but conall cearnach, who was present that night, made a new agreement with the stranger. he gave a blow which beheaded the giant, but again, when the latter returned whole and sound on the following evening, the champion was not to be found. now it was the turn of cuchulain, who, as the others had done, cut off the giant's head at one stroke. the next day the members of conor's court watched cuchulain to see what he would do. they would not have been surprised if he had failed like the others, who now were present. the champion, however, showed no signs of failing or retreat. he sat sorrowfully in his place, and with a sigh said to king conor as they waited: "do not leave this place till all is over. death is coming to me very surely, but i must fulfil my agreement, for i would rather die than break my word." towards the close of day the stranger strode into the hall exultant. "where is cuchulain?" he cried. "here i am," was the reply. "ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death lies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and have not failed me." the youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stood with the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow. the hero of ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant was not satisfied. "stretch out your neck better," said he. "you are playing with me, to torment me," said cuchulain. "slay me now speedily, for i did not keep you waiting last night." however, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the stranger raised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the hall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. when the axe came down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at cuchulain. the descending axe had not even touched him; it had come down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt there unharmed. smiling at him, and leaning on his axe, stood no terrible and hideous stranger, but curoi of kerry, come to give his decision at last. "rise up, cuchulain," said curoi. "there is none among all the heroes of ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth. the championship of the heroes of ireland is yours from this day forth, and the champion's portion at all feasts; and to your wife i adjudge the first place among all the women of ulster. woe to him who dares to dispute this decision!" thereupon curoi vanished, and the warriors gathered around cuchulain, and all with one voice acclaimed him the champion of the heroes of all ireland--a title which has clung to him until this day. this is one of many stories told of the irish champion, whose deeds of bravery would fill many pages. cuchulain finally came to his end on the field of battle, after a fight in which he displayed all his usual gallantry but in which unfair means were used to overcome him. for wales and for england during centuries arthur has been the representative "very gentle perfect knight." in a similar way, in england's sister isle, cuchulain stands ever for the highest ideals of the irish gaels. hereward the wake in hereward the wake (or "watchful") is found one of those heroes whose date can be ascertained with a fair amount of exactness and yet in whose story occur mythological elements which seem to belong to all ages. the folklore of primitive races is a great storehouse whence a people can choose tales and heroic deeds to glorify its own national hero, careless that the same tales and deeds have done duty for other peoples and other heroes. hence it happens that hereward the saxon, a patriot hero as real and actual as nelson or george washington, whose deeds were recorded in prose and verse within forty years of his death, was even then surrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid in vagueness his family, his marriage, and even his death. briefly it may be stated that hereward was a native of lincolnshire, and was in his prime about . in that year he joined a party of danes who appeared in england, attacked peterborough and sacked the abbey there, and afterward took refuge in the isle of ely. here he was besieged by william the conqueror, and was finally forced to yield to the norman. he thus came to stand for the defeated saxon race, and his name has been passed down as that of the darling hero of the saxons. for his splendid defence of ely they forgave his final surrender to duke william; they attributed to him all the virtues supposed to be inherent in the free-born, and all the glorious valor on which the english prided themselves; and, lastly, they surrounded his death with a halo of desperate fighting, and made his last conflict as wonderful as that of roland at roncesvalles. if roland is the ideal of norman feudal chivalry, hereward is equally the ideal of anglo-saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood. an account of one of hereward's adventures as a youth will serve as illustration of the stories told of his prowess. on an enforced visit to cornwall, he found that king alef, a petty british chief, had betrothed his fair daughter to a terrible pictish giant, breaking off, in order to do it, her troth-plight with prince sigtryg of waterford, son of a danish king in ireland. hereward, ever chivalrous, picked a quarrel with the giant and killed him in fair fight, whereupon the king threw him into prison. in the following night, however, the released princess arranged that the gallant saxon should be freed and sent hot-foot for her lover, prince sigtryg. after many adventures hereward reached the prince, who hastened to return to cornwall with the young hero. but to the grief of both, they learned upon their arrival that the princess had just been betrothed to a wild cornish hero, haco, and the wedding feast was to be held that very day. sigtryg at once sent a troop of forty danes to king alef demanding the fulfilment of the troth-plight between himself and his daughter, and threatening vengeance if it were broken. to this threat the king returned no answer, and no dane came back to tell of their reception. sigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honor of the king, but hereward disguised himself as a minstrel and obtained admission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applause by his beautiful singing. the bridegroom, haco, in a rapture offered him any boon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cup of wine from the hands of the bride. when she brought it to him he flung into the empty cup the betrothal ring, the token she had sent to sigtryg, and said: "i thank thee, lady, and would reward thee for thy gentleness to a wandering minstrel; i give back the cup, richer than before by the kind thoughts of which it bears the token." the princess looked at him, gazed into the goblet, and saw her ring; then, looking again, she recognized her deliverer and knew that rescue was at hand. while men feasted hereward listened and talked, and found out that the forty danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow when haco was sure of his bride, but released useless and miserable, since they would be turned adrift blinded. haco was taking his lovely bride back to his own land, and hereward saw that any rescue, to be successful, must be attempted on the march. returning to sigtryg, the young saxon told all that he had learned, and the danes planned an ambush in the ravine where haco had decided to blind and set free his captives. the whole was carried out exactly as hereward arranged it. the cornishmen, with the danish captives, passed first without attack; next came haco, riding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he exulting in his success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue. as they passed hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, "upon them, danes, and set your brethren free!" and himself struck down haco and smote off his head. there was a short struggle, but soon the rescued danes were able to aid their deliverers, and the cornish guards were all slain; the men of king alef, never very zealous for the cause of haco, fled, and the danes were left masters of the field. sigtryg had in the meantime seen to the safety of the princess, and now, placing her between himself and hereward, he escorted her to the ship, which soon brought them to waterford and a happy bridal. the prince and princess of waterford always recognized in hereward their deliverer and best friend, and in their gratitude wished him to dwell with them always; but the hero's roving and daring temper forbade his settling down, but rather urged him on to deeds of arms in other lands, where he quickly won a renown second to none. robin hood among the earliest heirlooms of the anglo-saxon tongue are the songs and legends of robin hood and his merry outlaws, which have charmed readers young and old for more than six hundred years. these entertaining stories date back to the time when chaucer wrote his "canterbury tales," when the minstrel and scribe stood in the place of the more prim and precise modern printed book. the question of whether or not robin hood was a real person has been asked for many years, just as a similar question has been asked about william tell and others whom everyone would much rather accept on faith. it cannot be answered by a brief "yes" or "no," even though learned men have pored over ancient records and have written books on the subject. according to the general belief robin was an outlaw in the reign of richard i, when in the depths of sherwood forest he entertained one hundred tall men, all good archers, with the spoil he took; but "he suffered no woman to be oppressed or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and houses of rich carles." consequently robin was an immense favorite with the common people. this popularity extended from the leader to all the members of his hardy band. "god save robin hood and all his good yeomanry" is the ending of many old ballads. the clever archer who could outshoot his fellows, the brave yeoman inured to blows, and the man who could be true to his friends through thick and thin were favorites for all time; and they have been idealized in the persons of robin hood and his merry outlaws. one of the best-known stories of this picturesque figure of early english times is that given by sir walter scott in "ivanhoe," concerning the archery contest during the rule or misrule of prince john, in the absence of richard from the kingdom. robin hood, under the assumed name of locksley, boldly presents himself at a royal tournament at ashby, as competitor for the prize in shooting with the long-bow. from the eight or ten archers who enter the contest, the number finally narrows down to two,-- hubert, a forester in the service of one of the king's nobles, and locksley or robin hood. hubert takes the first shot in the final trial of skill, and lands his arrow within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the centre. "'you have not allowed for the wind, hubert,' said locksley, 'or that had been a better shot.' "so saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. he was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that of hubert. "'by the light of heaven!' said prince john to hubert, 'an thou suffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!' "hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. 'an your highness were to hang me,' he said, 'a man can but do his best. nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow--' "'the foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!' interrupted john; 'shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be worse for thee!' "thus exhorted, hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just risen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the target. "'a hubert! a hubert!' shouted the populace, more interested in a known person than in a stranger. 'in the clout!--in the clout!--a hubert forever!' "'thou canst not mend that shot, locksley,' said the prince, with an insulting smile. "'i will notch his shaft for him, however,' replied locksley. "and letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. the people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual clamor. 'this must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood,' whispered the yeomen to each other; 'such archery was never seen since a bow was first bent in britain.' "'and now,' said locksley, 'i will crave your grace's permission to plant such a mark as is used in the north country; and welcome every brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he loves best.'" locksley thereupon sets up a willow wand, six feet long and as thick as a man's thumb. hubert is forced to decline the honor of taking part in such a trial of archery skill, but his rival easily splits the wand at a distance of three hundred feet and carries off the prize. "even prince john, in admiration of locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person. 'these twenty nobles,' he said, 'which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft.'" [footnote: ivanhoe, vol. , chap. xiii.] locksley, however, declares that it is impossible for him to enter the prince's service, generously shares his prize with the worthy hubert, and retires once more to his beloved haunts among the lights and shadows of the good greenwood. legends of charlemagne introduction those who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables relating to charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of charles martel, and perhaps of other charleses, have been blended in popular tradition with those properly belonging to charlemagne. it was indeed a most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience, before entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are about to lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history of the times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of the poets. in the century beginning from the year , the countries bordering upon the native land of our saviour, to the east and south, had not yet received his religion. arabia was the seat of an idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient persians, who worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. in mecca, in the year , mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, he proclaimed himself the prophet of god, in dignity as superior to christ as christ had been to moses. having obtained by slow degrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms to diffuse his religion. the energy and zeal of his followers, aided by the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors to spread the sway of arabia and the religion of mahomet over the countries to the east as far as the indus, northward over persia and asia minor, westward over egypt and the southern shores of the mediterranean, and thence over the principal portion of spain. all this was done within one hundred years from the hegira, or flight of mahomet from mecca to medina, which happened in the year , and is the era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ. from spain the way was open for the saracens (so the followers of mahomet were called) into france, the conquest of which, if achieved, would have been followed very probably by that of all the rest of europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of christianity from the earth. for christianity was not at that day universally professed, even by those nations which we now regard as foremost in civilization. great part of germany, britain, denmark, and russia were still pagan or barbarous. at that time there ruled in france, though without the title of king, the first of those illustrious charleses of whom we have spoken, charles martel, the grandfather of charlemagne. the saracens of spain had made incursions into france in and , and had retired, carrying with them a vast booty. in , anbessa, who was then the saracen governor of spain, crossed the pyrenees with a numerous army, and took by storm the strong town of carcassone. so great was the terror excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide extent submitted to the conqueror, and a mahometan governor for the province was appointed and installed at narbonne. anbessa, however, received a fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the saracens, being thus checked from further advance, retired to narbonne. in the saracens again invaded france under abdalrahman, advanced rapidly to the banks of the garonne, and laid siege to bordeaux. the city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. the invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of orleans, auxerre and sens. their advanced parties were suddenly called in by their chief, who had received information of the rich abbey of st. martin of tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it. charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the saracens, for the reason that the portion of france over which their incursions had been made was not at that time under his dominion, but constituted an independent kingdom, under the name of aquitaine, of which eude was king. but now charles became convinced of the danger, and prepared to encounter it. abdalrahman was advancing toward tours, when intelligence of the approach of charles, at the head of an army of franks, compelled him to fall back upon poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field of battle. charles martel had called together his warriors from every part of his dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been seen in france, crossed the loire, probably at orleans, and, being joined by the remains of the army of aquitaine, came in sight of the arabs in the month of october, . the saracens seem to have been aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. the two armies remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the saracen army rushed with fury on the franks. but the heavy line of the northern warriors remained like a rock, and the saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended their strength in vain attempts to make any impression upon them. at length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when abdalrahman was preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the saracens. it was king eude, who, with his aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and a great part of the saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to protect their plunder. in this moment of confusion the line of the franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful slaughter amongst the enemy. abdalrahman made desperate efforts to rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his officers, fell beneath the swords of the christians, all order disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their immense camp, from which eude and his aquitanians had been repulsed. it was now late, and charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed the night in the plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning. accordingly, when daylight came, the franks drew up in order of battle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to approach the saracen camp they found it empty. the invaders had taken advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and were already on their way back to spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to fall into the hands of the franks. this was the celebrated battle of tours, in which vast numbers of the saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the franks. charles received the surname of martel (the hammer) in consequence of this victory. the saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold their ground in the south of france; but pepin, the son of charles martel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title of king, successively took from them the strong places they held; and in , by the capture of narbonne, their capital, extinguished the remains of their power in france. charlemagne, or charles the great, succeeded his father, pepin, on the throne in the year . this prince, though the hero of numerous romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction. whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is entitled to our warmest admiration. such he is in history; but the romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, the victim of treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of his throne. the historical representation is doubtless the true one, for it is handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events of the age. at the height of his power, the french empire extended over what we now call france, germany, switzerland, holland, belgium, and great part of italy. in the year charlemagne, being in rome, whither he had gone with a numerous army to protect the pope, was crowned by the pontiff emperor of the west. on christmas day charles entered the church of st. peter, as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the mass with the rest of the congregation. when he approached the altar and stooped in the act of prayer the pope stepped forward and placed a crown of gold upon his head; and immediately the roman people shouted, "life and victory to charles the august, crowned by god the great and pacific emperor of the romans." the pope then prostrated himself before him, and paid him reverence, according to the custom established in the times of the ancient emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing him with consecrated oil. charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous people, who, under the name of saxons, inhabited the countries now called hanover and holland. he also led expeditions against the saracens of spain; but his wars with the saracens were not carried on, as the romances assert, in france, but on the soil of spain. he entered spain by the eastern pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of barcelona and pampeluna. but saragossa refused to open her gates to him, and charles ended by negotiating and accepting a vast sum of gold as the price of his return over the pyrenees. on his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges of the mountains by way of the valleys of engui, eno, and roncesvalles. the chief of this region had waited upon charlemagne, on his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the return of the franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers who acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights of the mountains under which the army had to pass. the main body of the troops met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of danger; but the rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and encumbered with its plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of roncesvalles, and slain to a man. some of the bravest of the prankish chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned roland or orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of brittany. his name became famous in after times, and the disaster of roncesvalles and death of roland became eventually the most celebrated episode in the vast cycle of romance. though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies of charlemagne and the saracens, they were of small account, and generally on the soil of spain. thus the historical foundation for the stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated with those of charlemagne's own time. there is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was admitted as authentic, and attributed to turpin, archbishop of rheims, a real personage of the time of charlemagne. its title is "history of charles the great and orlando." it is now unhesitatingly considered as a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous and unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by ascribing its authorship to a well- known and eminent individual. it introduces its pretended author, bishop turpin, in this manner: "turpin, archbishop of rheims, the friend and secretary of charles the great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor, beloved of god in his life and conversation, who often fought the saracens, hand to hand, by the emperor's side, he relates the acts of charles the great in one book, and flourished under charles and his son louis, to the year of our lord eight hundred and thirty." the titles of some of archbishop turpin's chapters will show the nature of his history. they are these: "of the walls of pampeluna, that fell of themselves." "of the war of the holy facundus, where the spears grew." (certain of the christians fixed their spears in the evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them, in the morning, covered with bark and branches.) "how the sun stood still for three days, and of the slaughter of four thousand saracens." turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated around the names of charlemagne and his paladins, or peers. but ariosto and the other italian poets have drawn from different sources, and doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as their authority "the good turpin," though his history contains no trace of them; and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather the impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to cite "the archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his unquestionable veracity. the principal italian poets who have sung the adventures of the peers of charlemagne are pulci, boiardo, and ariosto. the characters of orlando, rinaldo, astolpho, gano, and others, are the same in all, though the adventures attributed to them are different. boiardo tells us of the loves of orlando, ariosto of his disappointment and consequent madness, pulci of his death. ogier, the dane, is a real personage. history agrees with romance in representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from denmark and a pagan, embraced christianity, and took service under charlemagne. he revolted from the emperor, and was driven into exile. he afterwards led one of those bands of piratical northmen which ravaged france under the reigns of charlemagne's degenerate successors. the description which an ancient chronicler gives of charlemagne, as described by ogier, is so picturesque, that we are tempted to transcribe it. charlemagne was advancing to the siege of pavia. didier, king of the lombards, was in the city with ogier, to whom he had given refuge. when they learned that the king was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they could see far and wide over the country. "they first saw advancing the engines of war, fit for the armies of darius or julius caesar. 'there is charlemagne,' said didier. 'no,' said ogier. the lombard next saw a vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'certainly charles advanced with that host,' said the king. 'not yet,' replied ogier. 'what hope for us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater host than that?' at last charles appeared, his head covered with an iron helmet, his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand grasped his sword. those who went before the monarch, those who marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms. iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the rays of the sun. this iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose hearts were harder still. the blaze of the weapons flashed terror into the streets of the city." this picture of charlemagne in his military aspect would be incomplete without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." one of the greatest of modern historians, m. guizot, has compared the glory of charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of feudalism. but the light of this meteor was not extinguished, and reviving civilization owed much that was permanently beneficial to the great emperor of the franks. his ruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well as in the administration of the laws. he encouraged learning; he upheld the clergy, who were the only peaceful and intellectual class, against the encroaching and turbulent barons; he was an affectionate father, and watched carefully over the education of his children, both sons and daughters. of his encouragement of learning we will give some particulars. he caused learned men to be brought from italy and from other foreign countries to revive the public schools of france, which had been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. he recompensed these learned men liberally, and kept some of them near himself, honoring them with his friendship. of these the most celebrated is alcuin, an englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to have been both a learned and a wise man. with the assistance of alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academy or royal school, which should have the direction of the studies of all the schools of the kingdom. charlemagne himself was a member of this academy on equal terms with the rest. he attended its meetings, and fulfilled all the duties of an academician. each member took the name of some famous man of antiquity. alcuin called himself horace, another took the name of augustin, a third of pindar. charlemagne, who knew the psalms by heart, and who had an ambition to be, according to his conception, a king after god's own heart, received from his brother academicians the name of david. of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an interesting proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the caliph of the arabians, the celebrated haroun al raschid, a prince in character and conduct not unlike to charlemagne. the ambassadors brought with them, besides other rich presents, a clock, the first that was seen in europe, which excited universal admiration. it had the form of a twelve-sided edifice with twelve doors. these doors formed niches, in each of which was a little statue representing one of the hours. at the striking of the hour the doors, one for each stroke, was seen to open, and from the doors to issue as many of the little statues, which, following one another, marched gravely round the tower. the motion of the clock was caused by water, and the striking was effected by balls of brass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon a cymbal of the same metal, the number falling being determined by the discharge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed their escape. charlemagne was succeeded by his son louis, a well-intentioned but feeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by charles began rapidly to crumble. louis was followed successively by two charleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical conduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that character ascribed in the romances to charlemagne. the lawless and disobedient deportment of charles's paladins, instances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was also a trait of the declining empire, but not of that of charlemagne. the peers, or paladins the twelve most illustrious knights of charlemagne were called peers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of paladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates of the palace and companions of the king. their names are always given alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the most distinguished of them as follows: orlando or roland (the former the italian, the latter the french form of the name), favorite nephew of charlemagne; rinaldo of montalban, cousin of orlando; namo, duke of bavaria; salomon, king of brittany; turpin, the archbishop; astolpho, of england; ogier, the dane; malagigi, the enchanter; and florismart, the friend of orlando. there were others who are sometimes named as paladins, and the number cannot be strictly limited to twelve. charlemagne himself must be counted one, and ganelon, or gano, of mayence, the treacherous enemy of all the rest, was rated high on the list by his deluded sovereign, who was completely the victim of his arts. we shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the principal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction as they appear in the course of our narrative. we begin with orlando. orlando milon, or milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to charlemagne, having secretly married bertha, the emperor's sister, was banished from france, and excommunicated by the pope. after a long and miserable wandering on foot as mendicants milon and his wife arrived at sutri, in italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in that cave orlando was born. there his mother continued, deriving a scanty support from the compassion of the neighboring peasants; while milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands. orlando grew up among the children of the peasantry, surpassing them all in strength and manly graces. among his companions in age, though in station far more elevated, was oliver, son of the governor of the town. between the two boys a feud arose that led to a fight, in which orlando thrashed his rival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up between the two, which lasted through life. orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. as he was a favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to make him clothes. two brought white and two red; and from this circumstance orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings. when charlemagne was on his way to rome to receive the imperial crown he dined in public in sutri. orlando and his mother that day had nothing to eat, and orlando coming suddenly upon the royal party, and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much as he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their resistance. the emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded of an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be followed. this was done by three of the knights, whom orlando would have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto, had not his mother restrained him. when they heard from her who she was they threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon from the emperor. this was easily effected. orlando was received into favor by the emperor, returned with him to france, and so distinguished himself that he became the most powerful support of the throne and of christianity. [footnote: it is plain that shakspeare borrowed from this source the similar incident in his "as you like it." the names of characters in the play, orlando, oliver, rowland indicate the same thing.] roland and ferragus orlando, or roland, particularly distinguished himself by his combat with ferragus. ferragus was a giant, and moreover his skin was of such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any impression upon it. the giant's mode of fighting was to seize his adversary in his arms and carry him off, in spite of all the struggles he could make. roland's utmost skill only availed to keep him out of the giant's clutches, but all his efforts to wound him with the sword were useless. after long fighting ferragus was so weary that he proposed a truce, and when it was agreed upon he lay down and immediately fell asleep. he slept in perfect security, for it was against all the laws of chivalry to take advantage of an adversary under such circumstances. but ferragus lay so uncomfortably for the want of a pillow that orlando took pity upon him, and brought a smooth stone and placed it under his head. when the giant woke up, after a refreshing nap, and perceived what orlando had done, he seemed quite grateful, became sociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful style of such characters. among other things he told orlando that he need not attempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of his body was invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his hand to the vital part, just in the middle of his breast. aided by this information orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, in piercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and giving him a death-wound. great was the rejoicing in the christian camp, and many the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the emperor and all his host. on another occasion orlando encountered a puissant saracen warrior, and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword durindana. this famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince hector of troy. it was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength and temper that no armor in the world could stand against it. a roland for an oliver guerin de montglave held the lordship of vienne, subject to charlemagne. he had quarrelled with his sovereign, and charles laid siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. guerin was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his four sons and two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. after the siege had continued two months charlemagne received tidings that marsilius, king of spain, had invaded france, and, finding himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the southern provinces. at this intelligence charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and consented to put the quarrel with guerin to the decision of heaven, by single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot. the proposal was acceptable to guerin and his sons. the names of the four, together with guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet, oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons, was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. he accepted the award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the cause of his family. on charlemagne's side roland was the designated champion, and neither he nor oliver knew who his antagonist was to be. they met on an island in the rhone, and the warriors of both camps were ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. at the first encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats, immovable. they dismounted, and drew their swords. then ensued a combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an opinion as to the probable issue. two hours and more the knights continued to strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any sign of weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares. at length orlando struck furiously upon oliver's shield, burying durindana in its edge so deeply that he could not draw it back, and oliver, almost at the same moment, thrust so vigorously upon orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped off at the handle. thus were the two warriors left weaponless. scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, each striving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing in that, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. both succeeded, and at the same moment they stood bare-headed face to face, and roland recognized oliver, and oliver roland. for a moment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed into one another's embrace. "i am conquered," said orlando. "i yield me." said oliver. the people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. presently they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was evident the battle was at an end. the knights crowded round them, and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. if there were any who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided they were silenced by the voice of ogier the dane, who proclaimed aloud that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would maintain that award against all gainsayers. the quarrel with guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce was made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of duke namo on the one side, and of oliver on the other, a reconciliation was effected. charlemagne, accompanied by guerin and his valiant family, marched to meet marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the frontier. rinaldo rinaldo was one of the four sons of aymon, who married aya, the sister of charlemagne. thus rinaldo was nephew to charlemagne and cousin of orlando. when rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms orlando had won for himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the saracens, whom charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of france. orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in rinaldo. eager to go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near paris, and one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fully equipped and loaded with a complete suit of armor. rinaldo clothed himself in the armor and mounted the horse, but took not the sword. on the day when, with his brothers, he had received the honor of knighthood from the emperor he had sworn never to bind a sword to his side till he had wrested one from some famous knight. rinaldo took his way to the forest of arden, celebrated for so many adventures. hardly had he entered it when he met an old man, bending under the weight of years, and learned from him that the forest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and overturned everything that opposed his career. to attack him, he said, or even to meet him, was certain death. rinaldo, far from being alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal. this was the horse bayard, afterward so famous. he had formerly belonged to amadis of gaul. after the death of that hero he had been held under enchantment by the power of a magician, who predicted that, when the time came to break the spell, he should be subdued by a knight of the lineage of amadis, and not less brave than he. to win this wonderful horse it was necessary to conquer him by force or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down he would become docile and manageable. his habitual resort was a cave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who should approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage more than mortal. having told this, the old man departed. he was not, in fact, an old man, but malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of rinaldo, who, to favor the enterprises of the young knight, had procured for him the horse and armor which he so opportunely found, and now put him in the way to acquire a horse unequalled in the world. rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking bayard, but found no traces of him. one day he encountered a saracen knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened to knights, by first meeting him in combat. this knight, whose name was isolier, was also in quest of bayard. rinaldo succeeded in the encounter, and so severe was the shock that isolier was a long time insensible. when he revived, and was about to resume the contest, a peasant who passed by (it was malagigi) interrupted them with the news that the terrible horse was near at hand, advising them to unite their powers to subdue him, for it would require all their ability. rinaldo and isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the attack of the horse. they found bayard, and stood a long time, concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty. a bright bay in color (whence he was called bayard), with a silver star in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling muscles, his shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and sinewy, his thick mane falling over his arching neck,--he came rushing through the forest, regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed his way, and neighing defiance. he first descried isolier, and rushed upon him. the knight received him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the spear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. the spaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing tempest. bayard checked his career, and turned again upon the knight, who had already drawn his sword. he drew his sword, for he had no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, was impossible. bayard rushed upon him; fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on that. the knight struck him with his sword, where the white star adorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the skin of that horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make no impression upon it. whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force, and the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that the pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth. rinaldo, who saw isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft, darted towards the horse, and, with his fist gave him such a blow on the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. quicker than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to seize his arm with his teeth. the knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him on the forehead. bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with a force that would have shattered a mountain. rinaldo was on his guard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. he kept at his side avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at last received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the shock almost fainted away. a second such blow would have killed him, but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did not reach rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. thus the contest continued until by chance bayard's foot got caught between the branches of an oak. rinaldo seized it and putting forth all his strength and address, threw him on the ground. no sooner had bayard touched the ground than all his rage subsided. no longer an object of terror, he became gentle and quiet, yet with dignity in his mildness. the paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his mane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed by his master. rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took the saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned bayard with the spoils. rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of charlemagne's court,--indeed, the most illustrious, if we except orlando. yet he was not always so obedient to the emperor's commands as he should have been, and every fault he committed was sure to be aggravated by the malice of gan, duke of maganza, the treacherous enemy of rinaldo and all his house. at one time rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of charlemagne, and been banished from court. seeing no chance of being ever restored to favor, he went to spain, and entered into the service of the saracen king, ivo. his brothers, alardo, ricardo, and ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four served the king so faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. the king gave them land in the mountains on the frontiers of france and spain, and subjected all the country round to rinaldo's authority. there was plenty of marble in the mountains, the king furnished workmen, and they built a castle for rinaldo, surrounded with high walls, so as to be almost impregnable. built of white stone, and placed on the brow of a marble promontory, the castle shone like a star, and rinaldo gave it the name of montalban. here he assembled his friends, many of whom were banished men like himself, and the country people furnished them with provisions in return for the protection the castle afforded. yet some of rinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the supplies were not furnished in sufficient abundance, so that rinaldo and his garrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could not obtain by gift; and we sometimes find montalban spoken of as a nest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison. charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our history commences, rinaldo and his brothers were completely restored to the favor of the emperor, and none of his cavaliers served him with greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout all his wars with the saracens and pagans. the tournament it was the month of may, and the feast of pentecost. charlemagne had ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides his paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, christian or saracen, then sojourning at paris. among the guests were king grandonio, from spain; and ferrau, the saracen, with eyes like an eagle; orlando and rinaldo, the emperor's nephews; duke namo; astolpho, of england, the handsomest man living; malagigi, the enchanter; and gano, of maganza, that wily traitor, who had the art to make the emperor think he loved him, while he plotted against him. high sat charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins, rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while all were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly there came into the hall four enormous giants, having between them a lady of incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. there were many ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made her appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. every christian knight turned his eyes to her, and every pagan crowded round her, while she, with a sweetness that might have touched a heart of stone, thus addressed the emperor: "high-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor of these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me to hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the world to behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue in vain. and, before i show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that this knight is my brother uberto, and that i am his sister angelica. fame has told us of the jousting this day appointed, and so the prince my brother has come to prove his valor, and to say that, if any of the knights here assembled choose to meet him in the joust, he will encounter them, one by one, at the stair of merlin, by the fountain of the pine. and his conditions are these: no knight who chances to be thrown shall be allowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner to my brother; but if my brother be overthrown he shall depart out of the country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror." now it must be stated that this angelica and her brother, who called himself uberto, but whose real name was argalia, were the children of galafron, king of cathay, who had sent them to be the destruction of the christian host; for argalia was armed with an enchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything it touched, and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whose swiftness outstripped the wind. angelica possessed also a ring which was a defence against all enchantments, and when put into the mouth rendered the bearer invisible. thus argalia was expected to subdue and take prisoners whatever knights should dare to encounter him; and the charms of angelica were relied on to entice the paladins to make the fatal venture, while her ring would afford her easy means of escape. when angelica ceased sneaking she knelt before the king and awaited his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. orlando especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he trembled and changed countenance. every knight in the hall was infected with the same feeling, not excepting old white-headed duke namo and charlemagne himself. all stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking at her. the fiery youth ferrau could hardly restrain himself from seizing her from the giants and carrying her away; rinaldo turned as red as fire, while malagigi, who had discovered by his art that the stranger was not speaking truth, muttered softly, as he looked at her, "exquisite false creature! i will play thee such a trick for this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit." charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed his assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all which she answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted. as soon as she was gone malagigi consulted his book, and found out the whole plot of the vile, infidel king, galafron, as we have explained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate her designs. he hastened to the appointed spot, and there found the prince and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay asleep, while the four giants kept watch. malagigi took his book and cast a spell out of it, and immediately the four giants fell into a deep sleep. drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached the young lady, intending to despatch her at once; but, seeing her look so lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need of hurry, as he believed his spell was upon her, and she could not wake. but the ring which she wore secured her from the effect of the spell, and some slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at that moment to awake. she uttered a great cry, and flew to her brother, and waked him. by the help of her knowledge of enchantment, they took and bound fast the magician, and, seizing his book, turned his arts against himself. then they summoned a crowd of demons, and bade them seize their prisoner and bear him to king galafron, at his great city of albracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was locked up in a rock under the sea. while these things were going on all was uproar at paris, since orlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the stair of merlin. this was resented by the other pretenders to angelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. the tumult was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and the first prize was drawn by astolpho. ferrau, the saracen, had the second, and grandonio the third. next came berlinghieri, and otho; then charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, after thirty more, the indignant orlando. astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich. but, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky jouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with perfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend his fortune, generally with no better success. astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress and manner, encountered argalia, and was immediately tilted out of the saddle. he railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault; but his painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of angelica, who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him the liberty of the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all kindness and respect. the violent ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was thrown no less speedily than astolpho; but he did not so easily put up with his mischance. crying out, "what are the emperor's engagements to me?" he rushed with his sword against argalia, who, being forced to defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but got so much the worse of the fight that he made a signal of surrender, and, after some words, listened to a proposal of marriage from ferrau to his sister. the beauty, however, feeling no inclination to match with such a rough and savage-looking person, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily bidding her brother to meet her in the forest of arden, she vanished from the sight of both by means of the enchanted ring. argalia, seeing this, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same direction. ferrau pursued him, and astolpho, thus left to himself, took possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which was broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and returned to the tournament. charlemagne, finding the lady and her brother gone, ordered the jousting to proceed as at first intended, in which astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all comers against him, equally to their astonishment and his own. the paladin rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of ferrau and the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of love and impatience. orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed forth in like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest of arden, hunting about for her who is invisible. now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed by the sage merlin, who designed it for tristram and the fair isoude; [footnote: see their story in "king arthur and his knights."] for such was the virtue of this fountain, that a draught of its waters produced on oblivion of the love which the drinker might feel, and even produced aversion for the object formerly beloved. the other fountain was endowed with exactly opposite qualities, and a draught of it inspired love for the first living object that was seen after tasting it. rinaldo happened to come to the first mentioned fountain, and, being flushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in one draught both his thirst and his passion. so far from loving angelica as before he hated her from the bottom of his heart, became disgusted with the search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued with his ride, finding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down and fell asleep. shortly after came angelica, but, approaching in a different direction, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her thirst. then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping rinaldo. love instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot. the meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild roses. angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a handful of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the sleeper. he woke up, and, seeing who it was, received her salutations with averted countenance, remounted his horse, and galloped away. in vain the beautiful creature followed and called after him, in vain asked him what she had done to be so despised. rinaldo disappeared, leaving her in despair, and she returned in tears to the spot where she had found him sleeping. there, in her turn, she herself lay down, pressing the spot of earth on which he had lain, and, out of fatigue and sorrow, fell asleep. as angelica thus lay, fortune conducted orlando to the same place. the attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely that it is not to be conceived, much less expressed. orlando stood gazing like a man who had been transported to another sphere. "am i on earth," he exclaimed, "or am i in paradise? surely it is i that sleep, and this is my dream." but his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little desired. ferrau, who had slain argalia, came up, raging with jealousy, and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper. terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and, while the fighters were occupied with one another, fled away through the forest. the champions continued their fight till they were interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to ferrau that king marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of his assistance, and conjured him to return to spain. ferrau, upon this, proposed to suspend the combat, to which orlando, eager to pursue angelica, agreed. ferrau, on the other hand, departed with the messenger to spain. orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. aided by the powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country. but the thought of rinaldo could not be banished from her mind, and she determined to set malagigi at liberty, and to employ him to win rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. she accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters with her own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample honors and rewards on condition of his bringing rinaldo to her feet. malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon, mounted him, and departed. arrived at his destination, he inveigled rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any visible pilot, to an island where stood an edifice called joyous castle. the whole island was a garden. on the western side, close to the sea, was the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that it reflected the landscape about it. rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon met a lady, who invited him to enter. the house was as beautiful within as without, full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings. the lady led the knight into an apartment painted with stories, and opening to the garden, through pillars of crystal, with golden capitals. here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom were singing in concert, while another played on an instrument of exquisite accord, and the rest danced round about them. when the ladies beheld him coming they turned the dance into a circuit round him, and then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, "sir knight, the tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come;" and, with these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn in front of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth of gold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side of a fountain. four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed rinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. and truly indeed was he astonished. a repast ensued, consisting of viands the most delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk out of jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladies said in the knight's ear: "this house and all that you see in it are yours; for you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen. happy indeed must you think yourself, for she loves you, and she is the greatest beauty in the world! her name is angelica." the moment rinaldo heard the name he so detested he started up, with a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady could say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening till he reached the place where he landed. the bark was still on the shore. he sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody in it but himself. it was in vain for him to try to control its movements, for it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached a distant shore covered with a gloomy forest. here rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a very different sort from those which he had lately resisted, was entrapped into a pit. the pit belonged to a castle called altaripa, which was hung with human heads, and painted red with blood. as the paladin was viewing the scene with amazement a hideous old woman made her appearance at the edge of the pit, and told him that he was destined to be thrown to a monster, who was only kept from devastating the whole country by being supplied with living human flesh. rinaldo said, "be it so; let me but remain armed as i am, and i fear nothing." the old woman laughed in derision. rinaldo remained in the pit all night, and the next morning was taken to the place where the monster had his den. it was a court surrounded by a high wall. rinaldo was shut in with the beast, and a terrible combat ensued. rinaldo was unable to make any impression on the scales of the monster, while he, on the contrary, with his dreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin. rinaldo began to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes around and above to see if there was any means of escape. he perceived a beam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching it, and in flinging himself up across it. here he sat for hours, the hideous brute continually trying to reach him. all at once he heard the sound of something coming through the air like a bird, and suddenly angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. she held something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a loving voice. but the moment rinaldo saw her he commanded her to go away, refused all her offers of assistance, and at length declared that, if she did not leave him, he would cast himself down to the monster, and meet his fate. angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease him, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax she had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with nooses. the beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued together by the wax, vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in the nooses, drew them tight by his struggles, so that he could scarcely move a limb. rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him round the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his gripe till the beast fell dead. another difficulty remained to be overcome. the walls were of immense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window of such strength that he could not break the bars. in his distress rinaldo found a file, which angelica had left on the ground, and, with the help of this, effected his deliverance. what further adventures he met with will be told in another chapter. the siege of albracca at the very time when charlemagne was holding his plenary court and his great tournament his kingdom was invaded by a mighty monarch, who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no one could stand against him. he was named gradasso, and his kingdom was called sericane. now, as it often happens to the greatest and the richest to long for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they already possess, this king could not rest content without durindana, the sword of orlando, and bayard, the horse of rinaldo. to obtain these he determined to war upon france, and for this purpose put in array a mighty army. he took his way through spain, and, after defeating marsilius, the king of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on france. charlemagne, though marsilius was a saracen, and had been his enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity from a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of his peers, despatched rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers against gradasso. there was much fighting, with doubtful results, and gradasso was steadily advancing into france. but, impatient to achieve his objects, he challenged rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on foot, and upon these conditions: if rinaldo conquered, gradasso agreed to give up all his prisoners and return to his own country; but if gradasso won the day, he was to have bayard. the challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not been for the arts of malagigi, who just then returned from angelica's kingdom with set purpose to win rinaldo to look with favor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him. malagigi drew rinaldo away from the army by putting on the semblance of gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending to fly before him, by which means rinaldo was induced to follow him into a boat, in which he was borne away, and entangled in various adventures, as we have already related. the army, left under the command of ricciardetto, rinaldo's brother, was soon joined by charlemagne and all his peerage, but experienced a disastrous rout, and the emperor and many of his paladins were taken prisoners. gradasso, however, did not abuse his victory; he took charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred only for honor. he renounced all conquests, on condition that the emperor should deliver to him bayard and durindana, both of them the property of his vassals, the former of which, as he maintained, was already forfeited to him by rinaldo's failure to meet him as agreed. to these terms charlemagne readily acceded. bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in charge by ricciardetto, and sent back to paris, where astolpho was in command, in the absence of charlemagne. astolpho received with great indignation the message despatched for bayard, and replied by a herald that "he would not surrender the horse of his kinsman rinaldo without a contest. if gradasso wanted the steed he might come and take him, and that he, astolpho, was ready to meet him in the field." gradasso was only amused at this answer, for astolpho's fame as a successful warrior was not high, and gradasso willingly renewed with him the bargain which he had made with rinaldo. on these conditions the battle was fought. the enchanted lance, in the hands of astolpho, performed a new wonder; and gradasso, the terrible gradasso, was unhorsed. he kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the march to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to rest till he had taken from rinaldo his horse, and from orlando his sword, or lost his life in the attempt. charlemagne, full of gratitude to astolpho, would have kept him near his person and loaded him with honors, but astolpho preferred to seek rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and departed from paris with that design. our story now returns to orlando, whom we left fascinated with the sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while engaged in the combat with ferrau. having long sought her in vain through the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her father's court. leaving, therefore, the camp of charlemagne, he travelled long in the direction of the east, making inquiry everywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive. after many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where many roads crossed, and meeting there a courier, he asked him for news. the courier replied that he had been despatched by angelica to solicit the aid of sacripant, king of circassia, in favor of her father galafron, who was besieged in his city, albracca, by agrican, king of tartary. this agrican had been an unsuccessful suitor to the damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. orlando thus learned that he was within a day's journey of albracca; and, feeling now secure of angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her city. thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a foaming river. here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed him that it was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller with a cup. orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its contents. he had no sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he became unconscious of the object of his journey, and of everything else. under the influence of this fascination he followed the damsel into a magnificent and marvellous palace. here he found himself in company with many knights, unknown to him and to each other, though if it had not been for the cup of oblivion of which they all had partaken they would have found themselves brothers in arms. astolpho, proceeding on his way to seek rinaldo, splendidly dressed and equipped, as was his wont, arrived in circassia, and found there a great army encamped under the command of sacripant, the king of that country, who was leading it to the defence of galafron, the father of angelica. sacripant, much struck by the appearance of astolpho and his horse, accosted him courteously, and tried to enlist him in his service; but astolpho, proud of his late victories, scornfully declined his offers, and pursued his way. king sacripant was too much attracted by his appearance to part with him so easily, and having laid aside his kingly ornaments, set out in pursuit of him. astolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, named sir florismart, lord of the sylvan tower, one of the bravest and best of knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, and virtuous, to whom he was tenderly attached, whose name was flordelis. astolpho, as he approached, defied the knight, bidding him yield the lady, or prepare to maintain his right by arms. florismart accepted the contest, and the knights encountered. florismart was unhorsed and his steed fell dead, while bayard sustained no injury by the shock. florismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace and the sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword, and was about to plunge it into his own bosom. but astolpho held his hand, told him that he contended only for glory, and was contented to leave him the lady. while florismart and flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude king sacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion as much as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust. astolpho met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, and presented his courser to florismart, leaving the king to return to his army on foot. the friends pursued their route, and ere long flordelis discovered, by signs which were known to her, that they were approaching the waters of oblivion, and advised them to turn back, or to change their course. this the knights would not hear of, and, continuing their march, they soon arrived at the bridge where orlando had been taken prisoner. the damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchanted cup, but astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. she dashed it to the ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridge unapproachable. at the same moment the two knights were assailed by sundry warriors, known and unknown, who, having no recollection of anything, joined blindly in defence of their prison-house. among these was orlando, at sight of whom astolpho, with all his confidence not daring to encounter him, turned and fled, owing his escape to the strength and fleetness of bayard. florismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled to yield to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. he drank of the cup and remained prisoner with the rest. flordelis, deprived of her two friends, retired from the scene, and devoted herself to untiring efforts to effect her lover's deliverance. astolpho pursued his way to albracca, which agrican was about to besiege. he was kindly welcomed by angelica, and enrolled among her defenders. impatient to distinguish himself, he one night sallied forth alone, arrived in agrican's camp, and unhorsed his warriors right and left by means of the enchanted lance. but he was soon surrounded and overmatched, and made prisoner to agrican. relief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldiers were one day leaning over their walls they descried a cloud of dust, from which horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolled on towards the camp of the besiegers. this turned out to be the army of sacripant, which immediately attacked that of agrican, with the view of cutting a passage through his camp to the besieged city. but agrican, mounted upon bayard, taken from astolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold, the virtues of which were unknown to him, performed wonders, and rallied his scattered troops, which had given way to the sudden and unexpected assault. sacripant, on the other hand, encouraged his men by the most desperate acts of valor, having as an additional incentive to his courage the sight of angelica, who showed herself upon the city walls. there she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders, agrican and sacripant. in this, at length, her defender appeared to be overmatched, when the circassians broke the ring, and separated the combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush. sacripant, severely wounded, profited by the confusion, and escaped into albracca, where he was kindly received and carefully tended by angelica. the battle continuing, the circassians were at last put to flight, and, being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town, sought for refuge under the walls. angelica ordered the drawbridge to be let down, and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. with these agrican, not distinguished in the crowd, entered the place, driving both circassians and cathayans before him, and the portcullis being dropped, he was shut in. for a time the terror which he inspired put to flight all opposers, but when at last it came to be known that few or none of his followers had effected an entrance with him, the fugitives rallied and surrounded him on all sides. while he was thus apparently reduced to the last extremities, he was saved by the very circumstance which threatened him with destruction. the soldiers of angelica, closing upon him from all sides, deserted their defences; and his own besieging army entered the city in a part where the wall was broken down. in this way was agrican rescued, the city taken, and the inhabitants put to the sword. angelica, however, with some of the knights who were her defenders, among whom was sacripant, saved herself in the citadel, which was planted upon a rock. the fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, and ill provided with other necessaries. under these circumstances angelica announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel her intention to go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted her promise of a speedy return, she set out, with the enchanted ring upon her finger. mounted upon her palfrey, the damsel passed through the enemy's lines, and by sunrise was many miles clear of their encampment. it so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge of oblivion, and as she approached it she met a damsel weeping bitterly. it was flordelis, whose lover, florismart, as we have related, had met the fate of orlando and many more, and fallen a victim to the enchantress of the cup. she related her adventures to angelica, and conjured her to lend what aid she might to rescue her lord and his companions. angelica, accordingly, watching her opportunity and aided by her ring, slipped into the castle unseen, when the door was opened to admit a new victim. here she speedily disenchanted orlando and the rest by a touch of her talisman. but florismart was not there. he had been given up to falerina, a more powerful enchantress, and was still in durance. angelica conjured the rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of her kingdom, and all departed together for albracca. the arrival of orlando, with his companions, nine in all, and among the bravest knights of france, changed at once the fortunes of the war. wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standard fell before him. agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops. orlando kept constantly in his front, forcing him to attend to nobody else. the tartar king at length bethought him of a stratagem. he turned his horse, and made a show of flying in despair. orlando dashed after him as he desired, and agrican fled till he reached a green place in a wood, where there was a fountain. the place was beautiful, and the tartar dismounted to refresh himself at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, or laying aside any of his armor. orlando was quickly at his back, crying out, "so bold, and yet a fugitive! how could you fly from a single arm and think to escape?" the tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw his enemy, and when the paladin had done speaking, he said in a mild voice, "without doubt you are the best knight i ever encountered, and fain would i leave you untouched for your own sake, if you would cease to hinder me from rallying my people. i pretended to fly, in order to bring you out of the field. if you insist upon fighting i must needs fight and slay you, but i call the sun in the heavens to witness i would rather not. i should be very sorry for your death." the count orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said, "the nobler you show yourself the more it grieves me to think that in dying without a knowledge of the true faith you will be lost in the other world. let me advise you to save body and soul at once. receive baptism, and go your way in peace." agrican replied: "i suspect you to be the paladin orlando. if you are i would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to be king of paradise. talk to me no more about your things of another world, for you will preach in vain. each of us for himself, and let the sword be umpire." the saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon orlando, and a combat began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being a miracle of prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon till night. orlando then seeing the stars come out was the first to propose a respite. "what are we to do," said he, "now that daylight has left us?" agrican answered readily enough, "let us repose in this meadow, and renew the combat at dawn." the repose was taken accordingly. each tied up his horse, and reclined himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as if they had been friends, orlando by the fountain, agrican beneath a pine. it was a beautiful clear night, and, as they talked together before addressing themselves to sleep, the champion of christendom, looking up at the firmament, said, "that is a fine piece of workmanship, that starry spectacle; god made it all, that moon of silver, and those stars of gold, and the light of day, and the sun,--all for the sake of human kind." "you wish, i see, to talk of matters of faith," said the tartar. "now i may as well tell you at once that i have no sort of skill in such matters, nor learning of any kind. i never could learn anything when i was a boy. i hated it so that i broke the man's head who was commissioned to teach me; and it produced such an effect on others that nobody ever afterwards dared so much as show me a book. my boyhood was therefore passed, as it should be, in horsemanship and hunting, and learning to fight. what is the good of a gentleman's poring all day over a book? prowess to the knight, and preaching to the clergyman, that is my motto." "i acknowledge," returned orlando, "that arms are the first consideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himself dishonor by knowledge. on the contrary, knowledge is as great an embellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers are to the meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his maker, the man that is without it is no better than a stock or a stone or a brute beast. neither without study can he reach anything of a due sense of the depth and divineness of the contemplation." "learned or not learned," said agrican, "you might show yourself better bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject on which you have me at a disadvantage. if you choose to sleep i wish you good night; but if you prefer talking i recommend you to talk of fighting or of fair ladies. and, by the way, pray tell me, are you not that orlando who makes such a noise in the world? and what is it, pray, that brings you into these parts? were you ever in love? i suppose you must have been; for to be a knight, and never to have been in love, would be like being a man without a heart in his breast." the count replied: "orlando i am, and in love i am. love has made me abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions, and, to tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of the daughter of king galafron. you have come against him with fire and sword, to get possession of his castles and his dominions; and i have come to help him, for no object in the world but to please his daughter and win her beautiful hand. i care for nothing else in existence." now when the tartar king, agrican, heard his antagonist speak in this manner, and knew him to be indeed orlando, and to be in love with angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy, though it could not be seen for the darkness. his heart began beating with such violence that he felt as if he should have died. "well," said he to orlando, "we are to fight when it is daylight, and one or other is to be left here, dead on the ground. i have a proposal to make to you--nay, an entreaty. my love is so excessive for the same lady that i beg you to leave her to me. i will owe you my thanks, and give up the siege and put an end to the war. i cannot bear that any one should love her, and that i should live to see it. why, therefore, should either of us perish? give her up. not a soul shall know it." "i never yet," answered orlando, "made a promise which i did not keep, and nevertheless i own to you that, were i to make a promise like that, and even swear to keep it, i should not. you might as well ask me to tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes out of my head. i could as well live without breath itself as cease loving angelica." agrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere he leapt furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. "quit her," said he, "or die!" orlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that he would not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quick in mounting for the combat. "never," exclaimed he; "i never could have quitted her if i would, and now i would not if i could. you must seek her by other means than these." fiercely dashed their horses together, in the nighttime, on the green mead. despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave and took by the moonlight. agrican fought in a rage, orlando was cooler. and now the struggle had lasted more than five hours, and day began to dawn, when the tartar king, furious to find so much trouble given him, dealt his enemy a blow sharp and violent beyond conception. it cut the shield in two as if it had been made of wood, and, though blood could not be drawn from orlando, because he was fated, it shook and bruised him as if it had started every joint in his body. his body only, however, not a particle of his soul. so dreadful was the blow which the paladin gave in return, that not only shield, but every bit of mail on the body of agrican was broken in pieces, and three of his ribs cut asunder. the tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still greater vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin's helmet, such as he had never yet received from mortal man. for a moment it took away his senses. his sight failed, his ears tingled, his frightened horse turned about to fly; and he was falling from the saddle, when the very action of falling threw his head upwards, and thus recalled his recollection. "what a shame is this!" thought he; "how shall i ever again dare to face angelica! i have been fighting hour after hour with this man, and he is but one, and i call myself orlando! if the combat last any longer i will bury myself in a monastery, and never look on sword again." orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground together; and you might have thought that fire instead of breath came out of his nose and mouth. he raised his sword durindana with both his hands, and sent it down so tremendously on agrican's shoulder that it cut through breastplate down to the very haunch, nay, crushed the saddle-bow, though it was made of bone and iron, and felled man and horse to the earth. agrican turned as white as ashes, and felt death upon him. he called orlando to come close to him, with a gentle voice, and said, as well as he could: "i believe on him who died on the cross. baptize me, i pray thee, with the fountain, before my senses are gone. i have lived an evil life, but need not be rebellious to god in death also. may he who came to save all the rest of the world save me!" and he shed tears, that great king, though he had been so lofty and fierce. orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. he gathered the king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by the fountain, on a marble rim that it had, and then he wept in concert with him heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptized him in the water of the fountain, and knelt and prayed to god for him with joined hands. he then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his countenance changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left him there on the marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was, with the sword by his side, and the crown upon his head. adventures of rinaldo and orlando we left rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted the castle of altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. he soon met with a weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of her sorrow, told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescue her lover, who had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress, together with orlando and many more. the damsel was flordelis, the lady-love of florismart, and rinaldo promised his assistance, trusting to accomplish the adventure either by valor or skill. flordelis insisted upon rinaldo's taking her horse, which he consented to do, on condition of her mounting behind him. as they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, and rinaldo, reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards the quarter from which they proceeded. he soon perceived a giant standing under a vaulted cavern, with a huge club in his hand, and of an appearance to strike the boldest spirit with dread. by the side of the cavern was chained a griffin, which, together with the giant, was stationed there to guard a wonderful horse, the same which was once argalia's. this horse was a creature of enchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and form, which disdained to share the diet of his fellow-steeds,--corn or grass,--and fed only on air. his name was rabican. this marvellous horse, after his master argalia had been slain by ferrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern, and was here stabled under the protection of the giant and the griffin. as rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with his club. rinaldo defended himself from the giant's blows, and gave him one in return, which, if his skin had not been of the toughest, would have finished the combat. but the giant, though wounded, escaped, and let loose the griffin. this monstrous bird towered in air, and thence pounced down upon rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, dealt her a desperate wound. she had, however, strength for another flight, and kept repeating her attacks, which rinaldo parried as he could, while the damsel stood trembling by, witnessing the contest. the battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach of night, when rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bring it to a conclusion. he fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and, on the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow which sheared away one of her wings. the beast, though sinking, griped him fast with her talons, digging through plate and mail; but rinaldo plied his sword in utter desperation, and at last accomplished her destruction. rinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderful horse, all caparisoned. he was coal-black, except for a star of white on his forehead, and one white foot behind. for speed he was unrivalled, though in strength he yielded to bayard. rinaldo mounted upon rabican, and issued from the cavern. as he pursued his way he met a fugitive from agrican's army, who gave such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought on the side of angelica, that rinaldo was persuaded this must be orlando, though at a loss to imagine how he could have been freed from captivity. he determined to repair to the scene of the contest to satisfy his curiosity, and flordelis, hoping to find florismart with orlando, consented to accompany him. while these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in the tartarian army, from the death of agrican. king galafron, arriving at this juncture with an army for the relief of his capital, albracca, assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him. rinaldo had now reached the scene of action, and was looking on as an unconcerned spectator, when he was espied by galafron. the king instantly recognized the horse rabican, which he had given to argalia when he sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to paris. possessed with the idea that the rider of the horse was the murderer of argalia, galafron rode at rinaldo, and smote him with all his force. rinaldo was not slow to avenge the blow, and it would have gone hard with the king had not his followers instantly closed round him and separated the combatants. rinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice, enlisted on the side of the enemies of angelica, which gave him no concern, so completely had his draught from the fountain of hate steeled his mind against her. for several successive days the struggle continued, without any important results, rinaldo meeting the bravest knights of angelica's party, and defeating them one after the other. at length he encountered orlando, and the two knights bitterly reproached one another for the cause they had each adopted, and engaged in a furious combat. orlando was mounted upon bayard, rinaldo's horse, which agrican had by chance become possessed of, and orlando had taken from him as the prize of victory. bayard would not fight against his master, and orlando was getting the worse of the encounter, when suddenly rinaldo, seeing astolpho, who for love of him had arrayed himself on his side, hard beset by numbers, left orlando to rush to the defence of his friend. night prevented the combat from being renewed; but a challenge was given and accepted for their next meeting. but angelica, sighing in her heart for rinaldo, was not willing that he should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. she begged a boon of orlando, promising she would be his if he would do her bidding. on receiving his promise, she enjoined him to set out without delay to destroy the garden of the enchantress falerina, in which many valiant knights had been entrapped, and were imprisoned. orlando departed on his horse brigliadoro, leaving bayard in disgrace for his bad deportment the day before. angelica, to conciliate rinaldo, sent bayard to him; but rinaldo remained unmoved by this as by all her former acts of kindness. when rinaldo learned orlando's departure, he yielded to the entreaties of the lady of florismart, and prepared to fulfil his promise, and rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress. thus both rinaldo and orlando were bound upon the same adventure, but unknown to one another. the castle of falerina was protected by a river, which was crossed by a bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to the combat; and such was his strength that he had thus far prevailed in every encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knights which he had taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on the shore. rinaldo attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest, for the bridge-ward struck him so violent a blow with an iron mace that he fell to the ground. but when the villain approached to strip him of his armor, rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward, being unable to free himself, leapt with rinaldo into the lake, where they both disappeared. orlando, meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to angelica, pursued his way in quest of the same adventure. in passing through a wood he saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keeping guard over a lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly. orlando hastened to her relief, but was exhorted by the knight not to interfere, for she had deserved her fate by her wickedness. in proof of which he made certain charges against her. the lady denied them all, and orlando believed her, defied the knight, overthrew him, and, releasing the lady, departed with her seated on his horse's croup. while they rode another damsel approached on a white palfrey, who warned orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he was near the garden of the enchantress. orlando was delighted with the intelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to gain admittance. she replied that the garden could only be entered at sunrise and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gain admittance. she gave him also a book in which was painted the garden and all that it contained, together with the palace of the false enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purpose of executing a magic work in which she was engaged. this was the manufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchanted substances the object of this labor, the damsel told him, was the destruction of a knight of the west, by name orlando, who she had read in the book of fate was coming to demolish her garden. having thus instructed him, the damsel departed. orlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the next morning, now lay down and was soon asleep. seeing this, the base woman whom he had rescued, and who was intent on making her escape to rejoin her paramour, mounted brigliadoro, and rode off, carrying away durindana. when orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was great on the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, he was not to be diverted from his enterprise. he tore off a huge branch of an elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sun rose, took his way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragon was on his watch. this he slew by repeated blows, and entered the garden, the gate of which closed behind him, barring retreat. looking round him, he saw a fair fountain, which overflowed into a river, and in the centre of the fountain a figure, on whose forehead was written: "the stream which waters violet and rose, from hence to the enchanted palace goes." following the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in the delights of the charming garden, orlando arrived at the palace, and entering it, found the mistress, clad in white, with a crown of gold upon her head, in the act of viewing herself in the surface of the magic sword. orlando surprised her before she could escape, deprived her of the weapon, and holding her fast by her long hair, which floated behind, threatened her with immediate death if she did not yield up her prisoners, and afford him the means of egress. she, however, was firm of purpose, making no reply, and orlando, unable to move her either by threats or entreaties, was under the necessity of binding her to a beech, and pursuing his quest as he best might. he then bethought him of his book, and, consulting it, found that there was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it a lake was to be passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancing as to be quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his book instructed him how to protect himself against this danger. according to its directions, while pursuing his path, he gathered abundance of flowers, which sprung all around, and filled his helmet and his ears with them; then listened if he heard the birds sing. finding that, though he saw the gaping beak, the swelling throat, and ruffled plumes, he could not catch a note, he felt satisfied with his defence, and advanced toward the lake. it was small but deep, and so clear and tranquil that the eye could penetrate to the bottom. he had no, sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seen to gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung so sweetly that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side to listen. of this orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield to the charm, sank down upon the bank. the siren issued from the water with the intent to accomplish his destruction. orlando seized her by the hair, and while she sang yet louder (song being her only defence) cut off her head. then, following the directions of the book, he stained himself all over with her blood. guarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters set for defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length found himself again at the spot where he had made captive the enchantress, who still continued fastened to the beech. but the scene was changed. the garden had disappeared, and falerina, before so haughty, now begged for mercy, assuring him that many lives depended upon the preservation of hers. orlando promised her life upon her pledging herself for the deliverance of her captives. this, however, was no easy task. they were not in her possession, but in that of a much more powerful enchantress, morgana, the lady of the lake, the very idea of opposing whom made falerina turn pale with fear. representing to him the hazards of the enterprise, she led him towards the dwelling of morgana. to approach it he had to encounter the same uncourteous bridge-ward who had already defeated and made captive so many knights, and last of all, rinaldo. he was a churl of the most ferocious character, named arridano. morgana had provided him with impenetrable armor, and endowed him in such a manner that his strength always increased in proportion to that of the adversary with whom he was matched. no one had ever yet escaped from the contest, since, such was his power of endurance, he could breathe freely under water. hence, having grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom of the lake, he returned, bearing his enemy's arms in triumph to the surface. while falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels orlando saw rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other spoils made by the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel, determined upon revenging his friend. arriving at the pass, the churl presuming to bar the way, a desperate contest ensued, during which falerina escaped. the churl finding himself overmatched at a contest of arms, resorted to his peculiar art, grappled his antagonist, and plunged with him into the lake. when he reached the bottom orlando found himself in another world, upon a dry meadow, with the lake overhead, through which shone the beams of our sun, while the water stood on all sides like a crystal wall. here the battle was renewed, and orlando had in his magic sword an advantage which none had hitherto possessed. it had been tempered by falerina so that no spells could avail against it. thus armed, and countervailing the strength of his adversary by his superior skill and activity, it was not long before he laid him dead upon the field. orlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and, passing through the water, which opened a way before him (such was the power of the magic sword), he soon regained the shore, and found himself in a field as thickly covered with precious stones as the sky is with stars. orlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise by gathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. he next passed into a flowery meadow planted with trees, covered with fruit and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights. in the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and fast by it lay morgana asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and vermilion garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, while she had scarcely any behind. while orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty he heard a voice exclaim: "seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopest fair success." but his attention was arrested by another object, and he heeded not the warning. he saw on a sudden an array of towers, pinnacles and columns, palaces with balconies and windows, extended alleys with trees, in short a scene of architectural magnificence surpassing all he had ever beheld. while he stood gazing in silent astonishment the scene slowly melted away and disappeared. [footnote: this is a poetical description of a phenomenon which is said to be really exhibited in the strait of messina, between sicily and calabria. it is called fata morgana, or mirage.] when he had recovered from his amazement he looked again toward the fountain. the fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancing round its border with the lightness of a leaf, timing her footsteps to this song: "who in this world would wealth and treasure share, honor, delight, and state, and what is best, quick let him catch me by the lock of hair which flutters from my forehead; and be blest. "but let him not the proffered good forbear, nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest; for present loss is sought in vain to-morrow, and the deluded wretch is left in sorrow." the fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from the flowery meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. orlando pursued her through thorns and rocks, while the sky gradually became overcast, and at last he was assailed by tempest, lightning, and hail. while he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave, armed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourged him with vigorous strokes. her name was repentance, and she told him it was her office to punish those who neglected to obey the voice of prudence, and seize the fairy fortune when he might. orlando, furious at this chastisement, turned upon his tormentor, but might as well have stricken the wind. finding it useless to resist, he resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, and made frequent snatches at her white and vermilion garments, which still eluded his grasp. at last, on her turning her head for an instant, he profited by the chance, and seized her by the forelock. in an instant the tempest ceased, the sky became serene, and repentance retreated to her cave. orlando now demanded of morgana the keys of her prison, and the fairy, feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver, bidding him to be cautious in the use of it, since to break the lock would be to involve himself and all in inevitable destruction; a caution which gave the count room for long meditation, and led him to consider how few amid the suitors who importune the dame, know how to turn the keys of fortune. keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, orlando proceeded toward the prison, turned the key, without occasioning the mischiefs apprehended, and delivered the prisoners. among these were florismart, rinaldo, and many others of the bravest knights of france. morgana had disappeared, and the knights, under the guidance of orlando, retraced the path by which he had come. they soon reached the field of treasure. rinaldo, finding himself amidst this mass of wealth, remembered his needy garrison of montalban, and could not resist the temptation of seizing part of the booty. in particular a golden chain, studded with diamonds, was too much for his self-denial, and he took it and was bearing it off, notwithstanding the remonstrances of orlando, when a violent wind caught him and whirled him back, as he approached the gate. this happened a second and a third time, and rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather than to the entreaties of his friends, and cast away his prize. they soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance to the other side, where they found the trophy decorated with their arms. here each knight resumed his own, and all, except the paladins and their friends, separated as their inclinations or duty prompted. dudon, the dane, one of the rescued knights, informed the cousins that he had been made prisoner by morgana while in the discharge of an embassy to them from charlemagne, who called upon them to return to the defence of christendom. orlando was too much fascinated by angelica to obey this summons, and, followed by the faithful florismart, who would not leave him, returned towards albracca. rinaldo, dudon, iroldo, prasildo, and the others took their way toward the west. the invasion of france agramant, king of africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, to deliberate in council. he reminded them of the injuries he had sustained from france, that his father had fallen in battle with charlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed him to wipe out the stain of former defeats. he now proposed to them to carry war into france. sobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representing the rashness of it; but rodomont, the young and fiery king of algiers, denounced sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly, declaring himself impatient for the enterprise. the king of the garamantes, venerable for his age and renowned for his prophetic lore, interposed, and assured the king that such an attempt would be sure to fail, unless he could first get on his side a youth marked out by destiny as the fitting compeer of the most puissant knights of france, the young rogero, descended in direct line from hector of troy. this prince was now a dweller upon the mountain carena, where atlantes, his foster-father, a powerful magician, kept him in retirement, having discovered by his art that his pupil would be lost to him if allowed to mingle with the world. to break the spells of atlantes, and draw rogero from his retirement, one only means was to be found. it was a ring possessed by angelica, princess of cathay, which was a talisman against all enchantments. if this ring could be procured all would go well; without it the enterprise was desperate. rodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn, and it would probably have been held of little weight by the council, had not the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years, expired in the very act of reaffirming his prediction. this made so deep an impression on the council that it was unanimously resolved to postpone the war until an effort should be made to win rogero to the camp. king agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of a kingdom should be the reward of whoever should succeed in obtaining the ring of angelica. brunello the dwarf, the subtlest thief in all africa, undertook to procure it. in prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way to angelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of albracca while the besieging army was encamped before the fortress. while the attention of the garrison was absorbed by the battle that raged below he scaled the walls, approached the princess unnoticed, slipped the ring from her finger, and escaped unobserved. he hastened to the seaside, and, finding a vessel ready to sail, embarked, and arrived at biserta, in africa. here he found agramant impatient for the talisman which was to foil the enchantments of atlantes and to put rogero into his hands. the dwarf, kneeling before the king, presented him with the ring, and agramant, delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him in recompense king of tingitana. all were now anxious to go in quest of rogero. the cavalcade accordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain of carena. at the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain, watered by a large river, and from this plain was descried a beautiful garden on the mountain-top, which contained the mansion of atlantes; but the ring, which discovered what was before invisible, could not, though it revealed this paradise, enable agramant or his followers to enter it. so steep and smooth was the rock by nature, that even brunello failed in every attempt to scale it. he did not, for this, despair of accomplishing the object; but, having obtained agramant's consent, caused the assembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a tournament upon the plain below. this was done with the view of seducing rogero from his fastness, and the stratagem was attended with success. rogero joined the tourney, and was presented by agramant with a splendid horse, frontino, and a magnificent sword. having learned from agramant his intended invasion of france, he gladly consented to join the expedition. rodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for agramant's arrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise, made good his landing on the coast of france, and routed the christians in several encounters. previously to this, however, gano, or ganelon (as he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemy of orlando and the other nephews of charlemagne, had entered into a traitorous correspondence with marsilius, the saracen king of spain, whom he invited into france. marsilius, thus encouraged, led an army across the frontiers, and joined rodomont. this was the situation of things when rinaldo and the other knights who had obeyed the summons of dudon set forward on their return to france. when they arrived at buda in hungary they found the king of that country about despatching his son, ottachiero, with an army to the succor of charlemagne. delighted with the arrival of rinaldo, he placed his son and troops under his command. in due time the army arrived on the frontiers of france, and, united with the troops of desiderius, king of lombardy, poured down into provence. the confederate armies had not marched many days through this gay tract before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind the hills, which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led by rodomont, and the christian forces. rinaldo, witnessing from a mountain the prowess of rodomont, left his troops in charge of his friends, and galloped towards him with his lance in rest. the impulse was irresistible, and rodomont was unhorsed. but rinaldo, unwilling to avail himself of his advantage, galloped back to the hill, and having secured bayard among the baggage, returned to finish the combat on foot. during this interval the battle had become general, the hungarians were routed, and rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification to find that ottachiero was wounded, and dudon taken prisoner. while he sought rodomont in order to renew the combat a new sound of drums and trumpets was heard, and charlemagne, with the main body of his army, was descried advancing in battle array. rodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of dudon, left rinaldo, who was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy. agramant, accompanied by rogero, had by this time made good his landing, and joined rodomont with all his forces. rogero eagerly embraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, and spread terror wherever he went, encountering in turn and overthrowing many of the bravest knights of france. at length he found himself opposite to rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as we have said, in his combat with rodomont, and unable to follow him, being on foot, was shouting to his late foe to return and finish their combat. rogero also was on foot, and seeing the christian knight so eager for a contest, proffered himself to supply the place of his late antagonist. rinaldo saw at a glance that the moorish prince was a champion worthy of his arm, and gladly accepted the defiance. the combat was stoutly maintained for a time; but now fortune declared decisively in favor of the infidel army, and charlemagne's forces gave way at all points in irreparable confusion. the two combatants were separated by the crowd of fugitives and pursuers, and rinaldo hastened to recover possession of his horse. but bayard, in the confusion, had got loose, and rinaldo followed him into a thick wood, thus becoming effectually separated from rogero. rogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where two warriors were engaged in mortal combat. though he knew not who they were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim and the other a christian; and moved by the spirit of courtesy he approached them and exclaimed, "let him of the two who worships christ pause, and hear what i have to say. the army of charles is routed and in flight, so that if he wishes to follow his leader he has no time for delay." the christian knight, who was none other than bradamante, a female warrior, in prowess equal to the best of knights, was thunderstruck with the tidings, and would gladly leave the contest undecided, and retire from the field; but rodomont, her antagonist, would by no means consent. rogero, indignant at his discourtesy, insisted upon her departure, while he took up her quarrel with rodomont. the combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interrupted by the return of bradamante. finding herself unable to overtake the fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden and risk of a contest which belonged to herself, she had returned to reclaim the combat. she arrived, however, when her champion had dealt his enemy such a blow as obliged him to drop both his sword and bridle. rogero, disdaining to profit by his adversary's defenceless situation, sat apart upon his horse, while that of rodomont bore his rider, stunned and stupefied, about the field. bradamante approached rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion of his valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. she addressed him, excusing herself for leaving him exposed to an enemy from his interference in her cause; pleading her duty to her sovereign as the motive. while she spoke rodomont, recovered from his confusion, rode up to them. his bearing was, however, changed; and he disclaimed all thoughts of further contest with one who, he said, "had already conquered him by his courtesy." so saying, he quitted his antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out of sight. bradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and rogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unaware of her sex. as they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality of her new associate; and rogero informed her of his nation and family. he told her that astyanax, the son of hector of troy, established the kingdom of messina in sicily. from him were derived two branches, which gave origin to two families of renown. from one sprang the royal race of pepin and charlemagne, and from the other, that of reggio, in italy. "from that of reggio am i derived," he continued. "my mother, driven from her home by the chance of war, died in giving me life, and i was taken in charge by a sage enchanter, who trained me to feats of arms amidst the dangers of the desert and the chase." having thus ended his tale, rogero entreated a similar return of courtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, that she was of the race of clermont, and sister to rinaldo, whose fame was perhaps known to him. rogero, much moved by this intelligence, entreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of her face remained transported with delight. while absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected danger assailed them. a party which was placed in a wood, in order to intercept the retreating christians, broke from its ambush upon the pair, and bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in the head. rogero was in a fury at this attack; and bradamante, replacing her helmet, joined him in taking speedy vengeance on their enemies. they cleared the field of them, but became separated in the pursuit, and rogero, quitting the chase, wandered by hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner found than lost. while pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom he joined, and engaged them to assist him in the search of his companion, describing her arms, but concealing, from a certain feeling of jealousy, her quality and sex. it was evening when they joined company, and having ridden together through the night the morning was beginning to break, when one of the strangers, fixing his eyes upon rogero's shield, demanded of him by what right he bore the trojan arms. rogero declared his origin and race, and then, in his turn, interrogated the inquirer as to his pretensions to the cognizance of hector, which he bore. the stranger replied, "my name is mandricardo, son of agrican, the tartar king, whom orlando treacherously slew. i say treacherously, for in fair fight he could not have done it. it is in search of him that i have come to france, to take vengeance for my father, and to wrest from him durindana, that famous sword, which belongs to me, and not to him." when the knights demanded to know by what right he claimed durindana, mandricardo thus related his history: "i had been, before the death of my father, a wild and reckless youth. that event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seek for vengeance. determined to owe success to nothing but my own exertions, i departed without attendants or horse or arms. travelling thus alone, and on foot, i espied one day a pavilion, pitched near a fountain, and entered it, intent on adventure. i found therein a damsel of gracious aspect, who replied to my inquiries that the fountain was the work of a fairy, whose castle stood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept watch over a treasure which many knights had tried to win, but fruitlessly, having lost their life or liberty in the attempt. this treasure was the armor of hector, prince of troy, whom achilles treacherously slew. nothing was wanting but his sword, durindana, and this had fallen into the possession of a queen named penthesilea, from whom it passed through her descendants to almontes, whom orlando slew, and thus became possessed of the sword. the rest of hector's arms were saved and carried off by aeneas, from whom this fairy received them in recompense of service rendered. 'if you have the courage to attempt their acquisition,' said the damsel, 'i will be your guide.'" mandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal, and being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forth on his enterprise, the lady accompanying him. as they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. the armor was defended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessful adventurers for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners by the fairy, and compelled to take their turn, day by day, in defending the arms against all comers. thus speaking they arrived at the castle, which was of alabaster, overlaid with gold. before it, on a lawn, sat an armed knight on horseback, who was none other than gradasso, king of sericane, who, in his return home from his unsuccessful inroad into france, had fallen into the power of the fairy, and was held to do her bidding. mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his lance in rest. the champion of the castle was equally ready, and each spurred towards his opponent. they met one another with equal force, splintered their spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with their swords. the contest was long and doubtful, when mandricardo, determined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about gradasso, grappled with him, and both fell to the ground. mandricardo, however, fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelled gradasso to yield himself conquered. the damsel now interfered, congratulating the victor, and consoling the vanquished as well as she might. mandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle, which they found undefended. as they entered they beheld a shield suspended from a pilaster of gold. the device was a white eagle on an azure field, in memory of the bird of jove, which bore away ganymede, the flower of the phrygian race. beneath was engraved the following couplet: "let none with hand profane my buckler wrong unless he be himself as hector strong." the damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to the arms, bending herself to the ground. the tartar king bowed his head with equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield, touched it with his sword. thereupon an earthquake shook the ground, and the way by which he had entered closed. another and an opposite gate opened, and displayed a field bristling with stalks and grain of gold. the damsel, upon this, told him that he had no means of retreat but by cutting down the harvest which was before him, and by uprooting a tree which grew in the middle of the field. mandricardo, without replying, began to mow the harvest with his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he perceived that every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into some poisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him. instructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it among the pack. a strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stone fallen among the beasts, than they turned their rage against one another, and rent each other to pieces. mandricardo did not stop to marvel at the miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and uproot the tree. he clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorous efforts to tear it up by the roots. at each effort fell a shower of leaves, that were instantly changed into birds of prey, which attacked the knight, flapping their wings in his face, with horrid screeching. but undismayed by this new annoyance, he continued to tug at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts. a burst of wind and thunder followed, and the hawks and vultures flew screaming away. but these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by tearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that almost crushed him. fortune, however, again stood his friend, for, writhing under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into the hole, and his enemy was crushed beneath his weight. mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself of the destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place into which he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault, incrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a live coal. in the middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this was extended what appeared to be a knight in armor, but was in truth an empty trophy, composed of the rich and precious arms once hector's, to which nothing was wanting but the sword. while mandricardo stood contemplating the prize a door opened behind him, and a bevy of fair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up the armor piece by piece, led him away to the place where the shield was suspended; where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state. by her he was invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his solemn oath to wear no other blade but durindana, which he was to wrest from orlando, and thus complete the conquest of hector's arms. the invasion of france (continued) mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to rogero, and proposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy to bear the symbol of the trojan knight. rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple which arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword. mandricardo insisted that this need be no impediment, since his oath prevented him from using a sword until he should have achieved the conquest of durindana. this was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in gradasso, who now accompanied mandricardo. gradasso vindicated his prior right to durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was related in the beginning) in that bold inroad upon france. a quarrel was thus kindled between the kings of tartary and sericane. while the dispute was raging a knight arrived upon the ground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom rogero related the cause of the strife. the knight was florismart, and his companion flordelis. florismart succeeded in bringing the two champions to accord, by informing them that he could bring them to the presence of orlando, the master of durindana. gradasso and mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany florismart, nor would rogero be left behind. as they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who entreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been carried off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. however unwilling to leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not possible for the knights to resist this appeal. two of their number, gradasso and rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf. mandricardo persisted in his search for orlando, and florismart, with flordelis, pursued their way to the camp of charlemagne. atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up rogero, and cherished for him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was destined to be severed from him, and converted to the christian faith through the influence of bradamante, that royal maiden with whom chance had brought him acquainted. thinking to thwart the will of heaven in this respect, he now put forth all his arts to entrap rogero into his power. by the aid of his subservient demons he reared a castle on an inaccessible height, in the pyrenean mountains, and to make it a pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived to entrap and convey thither knights and damsels many a one, whom chance had brought into the vicinity of his castle. here, in a sort of sensual paradise, they were but too willing to forget glory and duty, and to pass their time in indolent enjoyment it was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt the knights into his power. but we must now return to rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his combat with rodomont. in search of his late antagonist and intent on bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of arden, whither he suspected rodomont had gone. while engaged on this quest he was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child dancing naked, with three damsels as beautiful as himself. while he was lost in admiration at the sight the child approached him, and, throwing at him handfuls of roses and lilies, struck him from his horse. he was no sooner down than he was seized by the dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowers till he fell into a swoon. when he began to revive one of the group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all things bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that had been inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of love. then they left him. rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which flowed near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and almost unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste, but bitter to the heart. after repeated draughts he recovered his strength and recollection, and found himself in the same place where angelica had formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in contempt of her courtesy. this remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of his crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon bayard, with the intention of hastening to angelica's country, and soliciting his pardon at her feet. let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the paladins having learned from dudon the summons of charlemagne to return to france to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command with the exception of orlando, whose passion for angelica still held him in attendance on her. orlando, arriving before albracca, found it closely beleaguered. he, however, made his way into the citadel, and related his adventures to angelica, from the time of his departure up to his separation from rinaldo and the rest, when they departed to the assistance of charlemagne. angelica, in return, described the distresses of the garrison, and the force of the besiegers; and in conclusion prayed orlando to favor her escape from the pressing danger, and escort her into france. orlando, who did not suspect that love for rinaldo was her secret motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally was resolved upon. leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at nightfall, and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. after encountering numerous adventures they reached the sea-side, and embarked on board a pinnace for france. the vessel arrived safely, and the travellers, disembarking in provence, pursued their way by land. one day, heated and weary, they sought shelter from the sun in the forest of arden, and chance directed angelica to the fountain of disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank. issuing thence, the count and damsel encountered a stranger- knight. it was no other than rinaldo, who was just on the point of setting off on a pilgrimage in search of angelica, to implore her pardon for his insensibility, and urge his new found passion. surprise and delight at first deprived him of utterance, but soon recovering himself, he joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his, and exhorting her to put herself under his protection. his presumption was repelled by angelica with disdain, and orlando, enraged at the invasion of his rights, challenged him to decide their claims by arms. terrified at the combat which ensued, angelica fled amain through the forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. this was the camp of charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to support the troops which had advanced to oppose marsilius. charles having heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two cousins, and then consigned angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to the care of namo, duke of bavaria, promising that she should be his who should best deserve her in the impending battle. but these plans and hopes were frustrated. the christian army, beaten at all points, fled from the saracens; and angelica, indifferent to both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and plunged into the forest, rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at having regained her liberty. she stopped at last in a tufted grove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and whose young trees were watered by two clear runnels, which came and mingled their waters, making a pleasing murmur. believing herself far from rinaldo, and overcome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with delight a bank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the green turf, inviting her to alight and rest. she dismounted from her palfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the tender grass which bordered the streamlets. then, in a sheltered nook tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn- flowers, she yielded herself to grateful repose. she had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by the approach of a horse. starting up, she saw an armed knight who had arrived at the bank of the stream. not knowing whether he was to be feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. she pressed aside the leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared to breathe for fear of betraying herself. soon the knight threw himself on the flowery bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell into a profound reverie. then arousing himself from his silence he began to pour forth complaints, mingled with deep sighs. rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with a hidden flame. "ah, vain regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune! others triumph, while i endure hopeless misery! better a thousand times to lose life, than wear a chain so disgraceful and so oppressive!" angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived that it was sacripant, king of circassia, one of the worthiest of her suitors. this prince had followed angelica from his country, at the very gates of the day, to france, where he heard with dismay that she was under the guardianship of the paladin orlando, and that the emperor had announced his decree to award her as the prize of valor to that one of his nephews who should best deserve her. as sacripant continued to lament, angelica, who had always opposed the hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that nothing forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy crisis. though firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse, she yet felt the necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward for the service she required of him. all at once, like diana, she stepped forth from the arbor. "may the gods preserve thee," she said, "and put far from thee all hard thoughts of me!" then she told him all that had befallen her since she parted with him at her father's court, and how she had availed herself of orlando's protection to escape from the beleaguered city. at that moment the noise of horse and armor was heard as of one approaching; and sacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his helmet, mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. he saw a knight advancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. sacripant regarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance off, defied him to the combat. the other, not moved by his angry tone to make reply, put himself on his defence. their horses, struck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another with the impetuosity of a tempest. their shields were pierced each with the other's lance, and only the temper of their breastplates saved their lives. both the horses recoiled with the violence of the shock; but the unknown knight's recovered itself at the touch of the spur; the saracen king's fell dead, and bore down his master with him. the white knight, seeing his enemy in this condition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he had done enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and was a mile off before sacripant had got free from his horse. as a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead the oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his loss, so sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with mortification at having angelica a witness of his defeat. he groaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for the shame of being reduced to such a state before her. the princess took pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could. "banish your regrets, my lord," she said, "this accident has happened solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which had more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. nor can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried away, not venturing a second trial." while she thus consoled sacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn. as soon as he came up, he accosted sacripant, and inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing a white shield and with a white plume to his helmet. "i have, indeed, seen too much of him," said sacripant, "it is he who has brought me to the ground; but at least i hope to learn from you who that knight is." "that i can easily inform you," said the man; "know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate to the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave. it is the fair and illustrious bradamante who has won from you the honors of victory." at these words the courier rode on his way, leaving sacripant more confounded and mortified than ever. in silence he mounted the horse of angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and rode away in search of a more secure asylum. hardly had they ridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, and they perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping the ravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned with gold. "if i may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the underwood," said angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutly through the bushes is bayard, and i marvel how he seems to know the need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble animal." sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached the fiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but the disdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley of kicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble. bayard then approached angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithful dog could his master after a long separation. for he remembered how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in albracca. she took his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted his neck. the beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence, seemed to submit entirely. sacripant, seizing the moment to vault upon him, controlled his curvetings, and angelica, quitting the croup of the palfrey, regained her seat. but, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of arms, sacripant beheld rinaldo. that hero now loves angelica more than his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon. the fountain of which angelica had drunk produced such an effect on the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and trembling voice, she conjured sacripant not to wait the approach of rinaldo, but to join her in flight. "am i, then," said sacripant, "of so little esteem with you that you doubt my power to defend you? do you forget the battle of albracca, and how, in your defence, i fought single-handed against agrican and all his knights?" angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already rinaldo was too near to be escaped. he advanced menacingly to the circassian king, for he recognized his horse. "vile thief," he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent the punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property. leave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a sin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to remain in such keeping." the king of circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, "thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better belongs to thyself than to me. it is true, the beauty of this lady and the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them." at these words the king of circassia and rinaldo attacked one another with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on horseback. you need not, however, suppose that the saracen king found any advantage in this; for a young page, unused to horsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manage bayard than did this accomplished knight. the faithful animal loved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid as well as his obedience to the hand of sacripant, who could strike but ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to go forward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out with his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle. sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his opportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth; then, relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the combat on more equal terms. their skill to thrust and parry were equal; one rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they turn and wind, to lay on strokes or to dodge them. at last rinaldo, throwing himself on the circassian, dealt him a blow so terrible that fusberta, his good sword, cut in two the buckler of sacripant, although it was made of bone, and covered with a thick plate of steel well tempered. the arm of the saracen was deprived of its defence, and almost palsied with the stroke. angelica, perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and shuddering at the thought of becoming the prize of rinaldo, hesitated no longer. turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed; and, in spite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she plunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that rinaldo was in pursuit. at the bottom of this valley she encountered an aged hermit, whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose venerable appearance seemed to assure his piety. this hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled slowly, mounted upon a wretched ass. the princess, overcome with fear, conjured him to save her life; and to conduct her to some port of the sea, whence she might embark and quit france, never more to hear the odious name of rinaldo. the old hermit was something of a wizard. he comforted angelica, and promised to protect her from all peril. then he opened his scrip, and took from thence a book, and had read but a single page when a goblin, obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the form of a laboring man, and demanded his orders. he received them, transported himself to the place where the knights still maintained their conflict, and boldly stepped between the two. "tell me, i pray you," he said, "what benefit will accrue to him who shall get the better in this contest? the object you are contending for is already disposed of; for the paladin orlando, without effort and without opposition, is now carrying away the princess angelica to paris. you had better pursue them promptly; for if they reach paris you will never see her again." at these words you might have seen those rival warriors confounded, stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording their rival a fair opportunity to triumph over them. rinaldo, approaching bayard, breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears a terrible oath that, if he overtakes orlando, he will tear his heart out. then mounting bayard and pressing his flanks with his spurs, he leaves the king of circassia on foot in the forest. let it not appear strange that rinaldo found bayard obedient at last, after having so long prevented any one from even touching his bridle; for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human; he had fled from his master only to draw him on the track of angelica, and enable him to recover her. he saw when the princess fled from the battle, and rinaldo being then engaged in a fight on foot, bayard found himself free to follow the traces of angelica. thus he had drawn his master after him, not permitting him to approach, and had brought him to the sight of the princess. but bayard now, deceived like his master with the false intelligence of the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his master as usual, and rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward paris, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of bayard outstripped the winds. full of impatience to encounter orlando, he gave but a few hours that night to sleep. early the next day he saw before him the great city, under the walls of which the emperor charles had collected the scattered remains of his army. foreseeing that he would soon be attacked on all sides, the emperor had caused the ancient fortifications to be repaired, and new ones to be built, surrounded by wide and deep ditches. the desire to hold the field against the enemy made him seize every means of procuring new allies. he hoped to receive from england aid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as soon as rinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador into england, to plead for auxiliaries. rinaldo was far from pleased with his commission, but he obeyed the emperor's commands, without giving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest his heart. he hastened to calais, and lost not a moment in embarking for england, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his commission, and a speedy return to france. bradamante and rogero bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose sudden appearance and encounter with sacripant we have already told, was in quest of rogero, from whom chance had separated her, almost at the beginning of their acquaintance. after her encounter with sacripant bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in hopes of rejoining rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a fair fountain. this fountain flowed through a broad meadow. ancient trees overshadowed it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of its waters, stopped there to cool themselves. bradamante, casting her eyes on all sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot, perceived, under the shade of a tree, a knight reclining, who seemed to be oppressed with the deepest grief bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of his distress. "alas! my lord," said he, "i lament a young and charming friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a villain,--let me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse, descended from the air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his den. i have pursued them over rocks and through ravines till my horse is no longer able to bear me, and i now wait only for death." he added that already a vain attempt on his behalf had been made by two knights, whom chance had brought to the spot. their names were gradasso, king of sericane, and rogero, the moor. both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter, and were added to the number of the captives, whom he held in an impregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. at the mention of rogero's name bradamante started with delight, which was soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her lover was a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "sir knight," she said, "do not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be more happy for you than you think, if you will only lead me to the castle which enfolds her whom you deplore." the knight responded, "after having lost all that made life dear to me i have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and i will do as you request; but i forewarn you of the perils you will have to encounter. if you fall impute it not to me." having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were overtaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest of bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence was needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the advance of the moors. the mournful knight, whose name was pinabel, thus became aware that bradamante was a scion of the house of clermont, between which and his own of mayence there existed an ancient feud. from this moment the traitor sought only how he might be rid of the company of bradamante, from whom he feared no good would come to him, but rather mortal injury, if his name and lineage became known to her. for he judged her by his own base model, and, knowing his ill deserts, he feared to receive his due. bradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, could not resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined first to finish the adventure on which she was engaged. pinabel leading the way, they at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of which rose a steep, rocky mountain. pinabel, who now thought of nothing else but how he might escape from bradamante, proposed to ascend the mountain to extend his view, in order to discover a shelter for the night, if any there might be within sight. under this pretence he left bradamante, and advanced up the side of the mountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down which he looked, and perceived that it widened below into a spacious cavern. meanwhile bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, had followed close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of the cavern. then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping her, conceived another design. he told her that before her approach he had seen in the cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her high birth, who with tears and lamentations implored assistance; that before he could descend to relieve her a ruffian had seized her, and hurried her away into the recesses of the cavern. bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie of the mayencian traitor. eager to succor the damsel, she looked round for the means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a large elm with spreading branches she lopped off with her sword one of the largest, and thrust it into the opening. she told pinabel to hold fast to the larger end, while, grasping the branches with her hands, she let herself down into the cavern. the traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her in mockery, "are you a good leaper?" he let go the branch with perfidious glee, and saw bradamante precipitated to the bottom of the cave. "i wish your whole race were there with you," he muttered, "that you might all perish together." but pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. the twigs and foliage of the branch broke its descent, and bradamante, not seriously injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for other adventures. as soon as she recovered from the shock bradamante cast her eyes around and perceived a door, through which she passed into a second cavern, larger and loftier than the first. it had the appearance of a subterranean temple. columns of the purest alabaster adorned it, and supported the roof; a simple altar rose in the middle; a lamp, whose radiance was reflected by the alabaster walls, cast a mild light around. bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the altar, and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and thanks to the preserver of her life, invoking the protection of his power. at that moment a small door opened, and a female issued from it with naked feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her by her name, and thus addressed her: "brave and generous bradamante, know that it is a power from above that has brought you hither. the spirit of merlin, whose last earthly abode was in this place, has warned me of your arrival, and of the fate that awaits you. this famous grotto," she continued, "was the work of the enchanter merlin; here his ashes repose. you have no doubt heard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be. victim of the artful fairy of the lake, merlin, by a fatal compliance with her request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power to resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained him there as long as he lived. his spirit hovers about this spot, and will not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the dead to judgment. he answers the questions of those who approach his tomb, where perhaps you may be privileged to hear his voice." bradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which met her view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. confused, but modest, she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face. "ah, what am i," said she, "that so great a prophet should deign to speak to me!" still, with a secret satisfaction, she followed the priestess, who led her to the tomb of merlin. this tomb was constructed of a species of stone hard and resplendent like fire. the rays which beamed from the stone sufficed to light up that terrible place, where the sun's rays never penetrated; but i know not whether that light was the effect of a certain phosphorescence of the stone itself, or of the many talismans and charms with which it was wrought over. bradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred place when the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm and distinct: "may thy designs be prosperous, o chaste and noble maiden, the future mother of heroes, the glory of italy, and destined to fill the whole world with their fame. great captains, renowned knights, shall be numbered among your descendants, who shall defend the church and restore their country to its ancient splendor. princes, wise as augustus and the sage numa, shall bring back the age of gold. [footnote: this prophecy is introduced by ariosto in this place to compliment the noble house of este, the princes of his native state, the dukedom of ferrara.] to accomplish these grand destinies it is ordained that you shall wed the illustrious rogero. fly then to his deliverance, and lay prostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched him from you, and now holds him in chains!" merlin ceased with these words, and left to melissa, the priestess, the charge of more fully instructing the maiden in her future course. "to-morrow," said she, "i will conduct you to the castle on the rock where rogero is held captive. i will not leave you till i have guided you through this wild wood, and i will direct you on your way so that you shall be in no danger of mistaking it." the next morning melissa conducted bradamante between rocks and precipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricate passes, employing the time in imparting to her such information as was necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successful issue. "not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that winged horse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses also a buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of all who look upon it are blinded. think not to avoid it by shutting your eyes, for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, and make him feel your own? but i will teach you the proper course to pursue. "agramant, the moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from a queen of india, which has power to render of no avail all enchantments. agramant, knowing that rogero is of more importance to him than any one of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing him from the power of the enchanter, and has sent for that purpose brunello, the most crafty and sagacious of his servants, provided with his wonderful ring, and he is even now at hand, bent on this enterprise. but, beautiful bradamante, as i desire that no one but yourself shall have the glory of delivering from thraldom your future spouse, listen while i disclose the means of success. following this path which leads by the seashore, you will come ere long to a hostelry, where the saracen brunello will arrive shortly before you. you will readily know him by his stature, under four feet, his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his livid hue, his thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. his dress, moreover, that of a courier, will point him out to you. "it will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him, announcing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter, but let not the knave suspect that you know anything about the ring. i doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of the enchanter. accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him till you come in sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. then hesitate not to strike him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity, and take from him the ring. but let him not suspect your intention, for by putting the ring into his mouth he will instantly become invisible, and disappear from your eyes." saying thus, the sage melissa and the fair bradamante arrived near the city of bordeaux, where the rich and wide river garonne pours the tribute of its waves into the sea. they parted with tender embraces. bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened to arrive at the hostelry, where brunello had preceded her a few moments only. the young heroine knew him without difficulty. she accosted him, and put to him some slight questions, to which he replied with adroit falsehoods. bradamante, on her part, concealed from him her sex, her religion, her country, and the blood from whence she sprung. while they talk together, sudden cries are heard from all parts of the hostelry. "o queen of heaven!" exclaimed bradamante, "what can be the cause of this sudden alarm?" she soon learned the cause. host, children, domestics, all, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a great eclipse, were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the bounds of possibility. she beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted with a cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. the wings of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered with feathers of various colors. the polished armor of the knight made them shine with rainbow tints. in a short time the horse and rider disappeared behind the summits of the mountains. "it is an enchanter," said the host, "a magician who often is seen traversing the air in that way. sometimes he flies aloft as if among the stars, and at others skims along the land. he possesses a wonderful castle on the top of the pyrenees. many knights have shown their courage by going to attack him, but none have ever returned, from which it is to be feared they have lost either their life or their liberty." bradamante, addressing the host, said, "could you furnish me a guide to conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?" "by my faith," said brunello, interrupting, "that you shall not seek in vain; i have it all in writing, and i will myself conduct you." bradamante, with thanks, accepted him for her guide. the host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which bradamante bargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she took her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the saracen brunello lead the way. they reached the summit of the pyrenees, whence one may look down on france, spain, and the two seas. from this height they descended again by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. from the middle of this valley an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough and perpendicular rock, on whose summit was the castle, surrounded with a wall of brass. brunello said, "yonder is the stronghold where the enchanter keeps his prisoners; one must have wings to mount thither; it is easy to see that the aid of a flying horse must be necessary for the master of this castle, which he uses for his prison and for his abode." bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now come to possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to slay a defenceless man. she seized brunello before he was aware, bound him to a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on one of his fingers. the cries and entreaties of the perfidious saracen moved her not. she advanced to the foot of the rock whereon the castle stood, and, to draw the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of defiance. the enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his winged horse. bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy when she saw that this person, described as so formidable, bore no lance nor club, nor any other deadly weapon. he had only on his arm a buckler, covered with a cloth, and in his hand an open book. as to the winged horse, there was no enchantment about him. he was a natural animal, of a species which exists in the riphaean mountains. like a griffin, he had the head of an eagle, claws armed with talons, and wings covered with feathers, the rest of his body being that of a horse. this strange animal is called a hippogriff. the heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking on this side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat, but wounding only the wind; and after this pretended attack had lasted some time dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to do battle more effectually on foot. the enchanter now prepares to employ his sole weapon, by uncovering the magic buckler which never failed to subdue an enemy by depriving him of his senses. bradamante, confiding in her ring, observed all the motions of her adversary, and, at the unveiling of the shield, cast herself on the ground, pretending that the splendor of the shield had overcome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to dismount and approach her. it happened according to her wish. when the enchanter saw her prostrate he made his horse alight on the ground, and, dismounting, fixed the shield on the pommel of his saddle, and approached in order to secure the fallen warrior. bradamante, who watched him intently, as soon as she saw him near at hand, sprang up, seized him vigorously, threw him down, and, with the same chain which the enchanter had prepared for herself, bound him fast, without his being able to make any effectual resistance. the enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, "take my life, young man!" but bradamante was far from complying with such a wish. desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and for what purpose he had formed with so much art this impregnable fortress, she commanded him to inform her. "alas!" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks, "it is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that i have built this castle; it was only to guard the life of a young knight, the object of my tenderest affection, my art having taught me that he is destined to become a christian, and to perish, shortly after, by the blackest of treasons. "this youth, named rogero, is the most beautiful and most accomplished of knights. it is i, the unhappy atlantes, who have reared him from his childhood. the call of honor and the desire of glory led him from me to follow agramant, his prince, in his invasion of france, and i, more devoted to rogero than the tenderest of parents, have sought the means of bringing him back to this abode, in the hope of saving him from the cruel fate that menaces him. "for this purpose i have got him in my possession by the same means as i attempted to employ against you; and by which i have succeeded in collecting a great many knights and ladies in my castle. my purpose was to render my beloved pupil's captivity light, by affording him society to amuse him, and keep his thoughts from running on subjects of war and glory. alas! my cares have been in vain! yet, take, i beseech you, whatever else i have, but spare me my beloved pupil. take this shield, take this winged courser, deliver such of your friends as you may find among my prisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my beloved rogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my life, which will cease then to be to me worth preserving." bradamante replied: "old man, hope not to move me by your vain entreaties. it is precisely the liberty of rogero that i require. you would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, to save him from a fate which you foresee. vain old man! how can you foresee his fate when you could not foresee your own? you desire me to take your life. no, my aim and my soul refuse the request." this said, she required the magician to go before, and guide her to the castle. the prisoners were set at liberty, though some, in their secret hearts, regretted the voluptuous life which was thus brought to an end. bradamante and rogero met one another with transports of joy. they descended from the mountain to the spot where the encounter had taken place. there they found the hippogriff, with the magic buckler in its wrapper, hanging to his saddle-bow. bradamante advanced to seize the bridle; the hippogriff seemed to wait her approach, but before she reached him he spread his wings and flew away to a neighboring hill, and in the same manner, a second time, eluded her efforts. rogero and the other liberated knights dispersed over the plain and hilltops to secure him, and at last the animal allowed rogero to seize his rein. the fearless rogero hesitated not to vault upon his back, and let him feel his spurs, which so roused his mettle that, after galloping a short distance, he suddenly spread his wings, and soared into the air. bradamante had the grief to see her lover snatched away from her at the very moment of reunion. rogero, who knew not the art of directing the horse, was unable to control his flight. he found himself carried over the tops of the mountains, so far above them that he could hardly distinguish what was land and what water. the hippogriff directed his flight to the west, and cleaved the air as swiftly as a new-rigged vessel cuts the waves, impelled by the freshest and most favorable gales. astolpho and the enchantress in the long flight which rogero took on the back of the hippogriff he was carried over land and sea, unknowing whither. as soon as he had gained some control over the animal he made him alight on the nearest land. when he came near enough to earth rogero leapt lightly from his back, and tied the animal to a myrtle-tree. near the spot flowed the pure waters of a fountain, surrounded by cedars and palm-trees. rogero laid aside his shield, and, removing his helmet, breathed with delight the fresh air, and cooled his lips with the waters of the fountain. for we cannot wonder that he was excessively fatigued, considering the ride he had taken. he was preparing to taste the sweets of repose when he perceived that the hippogriff, which he had tied by the bridle to a myrtle-tree, frightened at something, was making violent efforts to disengage himself. his struggle shook the myrtle-tree so that many of its beautiful leaves were torn off, and strewed the ground. a sound like that which issues from burning wood seemed to come from the myrtle-tree, at first faint and indistinct, but growing stronger by degrees, and at length was audible as a voice which spoke in this manner: "o knight, if the tenderness of your heart corresponds to the beauty of your person, relieve me, i pray you, from this tormenting animal. i suffer enough inwardly without having outward evils added to my lot." rogero, at the first accents of this voice, turned his eyes promptly on the myrtle, hastened to it, and stood fixed in astonishment when he perceived that the voice issued from the tree itself. he immediately untied his horse, and, flushed with surprise and regret, exclaimed, "whoever thou art, whether mortal or the goddess of these woods, forgive me, i beseech you, my involuntary fault. had i imagined that this hard bark covered a being possessed of feeling, could i have exposed such a beautiful myrtle to the insults of this steed? may the sweet influences of the sky and air speedily repair the injury i have done! for my part, i promise by the sovereign lady of my heart to do everything you wish in order to merit your forgiveness." at these words the myrtle seemed to tremble from root to stem, and rogero remarked that a moisture as of tears trickled down its bark, like that which exudes from a log placed on the fire. it then spoke: "the kindness which inspires your words compels me to disclose to you who i once was, and by what fatality i have been changed into this shape. my name was astolpho, cousin of orlando and rinaldo, whose fame has filled the earth. i was myself reckoned among the bravest paladins of france, and was by birth entitled to reign over england, after otho, my father. returning from the distant east, with rinaldo and many other brave knights, called home to aid with our arms the great emperor of france, we reached a spot where the powerful enchantress alcina possessed a castle on the borders of the sea. she had gone to the water-side to amuse herself with fishing, and we paused to see how, by her art, without hook or line, she drew from the water whatever she would. "not far from the shore an enormous whale showed a back so broad and motionless that it looked like an island. alcina had fixed her eyes on me, and planned to get me into her power. addressing us, she said: 'this is the hour when the prettiest mermaid in the sea comes regularly every day to the shore of yonder island. she sings so sweetly that the very waves flow smoother at the sound. if you wish to hear her come with me to her resort.' so saying, alcina pointed to the fish, which we all supposed to be an island. i, who was rash, did not hesitate to follow her; but swam my horse over, and mounted on the back of the fish. in vain rinaldo and dudon made signs to me to beware; alcina, smiling, took me in charge, and led the way. no sooner were we mounted upon him than the whale moved off, spreading his great fins, and cleft rapidly the waters. i then saw my folly, but it was too late to repent. alcina soothed my anger, and professed that what she had done was for love of me. ere long we arrived at this island, where at first everything was done to reconcile me to my lot, and to make my days pass happily away. but soon alcina, sated with her conquest, grew indifferent, then weary of me, and at last, to get rid of me, changed me into this form, as she had done to many lovers before me, making some of them olives, some palms, some cedars, changing others into fountains, rocks, or even into wild beasts. and thou, courteous knight, whom accident has brought to this enchanted isle, beware that she get not the power over thee, or thou shalt haply be made like us, a tree, a fountain, or a rock." rogero expressed his astonishment at this recital. astolpho added that the island was in great part subject to the sway of alcina. by the aid of her sister morgana, she had succeeded in dispossessing a third sister, logestilla, of nearly the whole of her patrimony, for the whole isle was hers originally by her father's bequest. but logestilla was temperate and sage, while the other sisters were false and voluptuous. her empire was divided from theirs by a gulf and chain of mountains, which alone had thus far prevented her sister from usurping it. astolpho here ended his tale, and rogero, who knew that he was the cousin of bradamante, would gladly have devised some way for his relief; but, as that was out of his power, he consoled him as well as he could, and then begged to be told the way to the palace of logestilla, and how to avoid that of alcina. astolpho directed him to take the road to the left, though rough and full of rocks. he warned him that this road would present serious obstacles; that troops of monsters would oppose his passage, employed by the art of alcina to prevent her subjects from escaping from her dominion. rogero thanked the myrtle, and prepared to set out on his way. he at first thought he would mount the winged horse, and scale the mountain on his back; but he was too uncertain of his power to control him to wish to encounter the hazard of another flight through the air, besides that he was almost famished for the want of food. so he led the horse after him, and took the road on foot, which for some distance led equally to the dominions of both the sisters. he had not advanced more than two miles when he saw before him the superb city of alcina. it was surrounded with a wall of gold, which seemed to reach the skies. i know that some think that this wall was not of real gold, but only the work of alchemy; it matters not; i prefer to think it gold, for it certainly shone like gold. a broad and level road led to the gates of the city, and from this another branched off, narrow and rough, which led to the mountain region. rogero took without hesitation the narrow road; but he had no sooner entered upon it than he was assailed by a numerous troop which opposed his passage. you never have seen anything so ridiculous, so extraordinary, as this host of hobgoblins were. some of them bore the human form from the neck to the feet, but had the head of a monkey or a cat; others had the legs and the ears of a horse; old men and women, bald and hideous, ran hither and thither as if out of their senses, half clad in the shaggy skins of beasts; one rode full speed on a horse without a bridle, another jogged along mounted on an ass or a cow; others, full of agility, skipped about, and clung to the tails and manes of the animals which their companions rode. some blew horns, others brandished drinking-cups; some were armed with spits, and some with pitchforks. one, who appeared to be the captain, had an enormous belly and a gross fat head; he was mounted on a tortoise, that waddled, now this way, now that, without keeping any one direction. one of these monsters, who had something approaching the human form, though he had the neck, ears, and muzzle of a dog, set himself to bark furiously at rogero, to make him turn off to the right, and reenter upon the road to the gay city; but the brave chevalier exclaimed, "that will i not, so long as i can use this sword,"--and he thrust the point directly at his face. the monster tried to strike him with a lance, but rogero was too quick for him, and thrust his sword through his body, so that it appeared a hand's breadth behind his back. the paladin, now giving full vent to his rage, laid about him vigorously among the rabble, cleaving one to the teeth, another to the girdle; but the troop were so numerous, and in spite of his blows pressed around him so close, that, to clear his way, he must have had as many arms as briareus. if rogero had uncovered the shield of the enchanter, which hung at his saddle-bow, he might easily have vanquished this monstrous rout; but perhaps he did not think of it, and perhaps he preferred to seek his defence nowhere but in his good sword. at that moment, when his perplexity was at its height, he saw issue from the city gate two young beauties, whose air and dress proclaimed their rank and gentle nurture. each of them was mounted on a unicorn, whose whiteness surpassed that of ermine. they advanced to the meadow where rogero was contending so valiantly against the hobgoblins, who all retired at their approach. they drew near, they extended their hands to the young warrior, whose cheeks glowed with the flush of exercise and modesty. grateful for their assistance, he expressed his thanks, and, having no heart to refuse them, followed their guidance to the gate of the city. this grand and beautiful entrance was adorned by a portico of four vast columns, all of diamond. whether they were real diamond or artificial i cannot say. what matter is it, so long as they appeared to the eye like diamond, and nothing could be more gay and splendid. on the threshold, and between the columns, was seen a bevy of charming young women, who played and frolicked together. they all ran to receive rogero, and conducted him into the palace, which appeared like a paradise. we might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flew by, without account, in ever-new delights. the bare idea of satiety, want, and, above all, of age, never entered the minds of the inhabitants. they experienced no sensations except those of luxury and gayety; the cup of happiness seemed for them ever- flowing and exhaustless. the two young damsels to whom rogero owed his deliverance from the hobgoblins conducted him to the apartment of their mistress. the beautiful alcina advanced, and greeted him with an air at once dignified and courteous. all her court surrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most flattering attentions. the castle was less admirable for its magnificence than for the charms of those who inhabited it. they were of either sex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among this charming group the brilliant alcina shone, as the sun outshines the stars. the young warrior was fascinated. all that he had heard from the myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. how could he suspect that falsehood and treason veiled themselves under smiles and the ingenuous air of truth? he doubted not that astolpho had deserved his fate, and perhaps a punishment more severe; he regarded all his stories as dictated by a disappointed spirit, and a thirst for revenge. but we must not condemn rogero too harshly, for he was the victim of magic power. they seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyres and harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. the charms of poetry were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence of the feast would have done credit to a royal board. the traitress forgot nothing which might charm the paladin, and attach him to the spot, meaning, when she should grow tired of him, to metamorphose him as she had done others. in the same manner passed each succeeding day. games of pleasant exercise, the chase, the dance, or rural sports, made the hours pass quickly; while they gave zest to the refreshment of the bath, or sleep. thus rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while charlemagne and agramant were struggling for empire. but i cannot linger with him while the amiable and courageous bradamante is night and day directing her uncertain steps to every spot where the slightest chance invites her, in the hope of recovering rogero. i will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields and in cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. she did not apprehend the death of rogero. the fall of such a hero would have reechoed from the hydaspes to the farthest river of the west; but, not knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, she concluded, as a last resource, to return to the cavern which contained the tomb of merlin, to ask of him some sure direction to the object of her search. while this thought occupied her mind, melissa, the sage enchantress, suddenly appeared before her. this virtuous and beneficent magician had discovered by her spells that rogero was passing his time in pleasure and idleness, forgetful of his honor and his sovereign. not able to endure the thought that one who was born to be a hero should waste his years in base repose, and leave a sullied reputation in the memory of survivors, she saw that vigorous measures must be employed to draw him forth into the paths of virtue. melissa was not blinded by her affection for the amiable paladin, like atlantes, who, intent only on preserving rogero's life, cared nothing for his fame. it was that old enchanter whose arts had guided the hippogriff to the isle of the too charming alcina, where he hoped his favorite would learn to forget honor, and lose the love of glory. at the sight of melissa joy lighted up the countenance of bradamante, and hope animated her breast. melissa concealed nothing from her, but told her how rogero was in the toils of alcina. bradamante was plunged in grief and terror; but the kind enchantress calmed her, dispelled her fears, and promised that before many days she would lead back the paladin to her feet. "my daughter," she said, "give me the ring which you wear, and which possesses the power to overcome enchantments. by means of it i doubt not but that i may enter the stronghold where the false alcina holds rogero in durance, and may succeed in vanquishing her and liberating him." bradamante unhesitatingly delivered her the ring, recommending rogero to her best efforts. melissa then summoned by her art a huge palfrey, black as jet, excepting one foot, which was bay. mounted upon this animal, she rode with such speed that by the next morning she had reached the abode of alcina. she here transformed herself into the perfect resemblance of the old magician atlantes, adding a palm-breadth to her height, and enlarging her whole figure. her chin she covered with a long beard, and seamed her whole visage well with wrinkles. she assumed also his voice and manner, and watched her chance to find rogero alone. at last she found him, dressed in a rich tunic of silk and gold, a collar of precious stones about his neck, and his arms, once so rough with exercise, decorated with bracelets. his air and his every motion indicated effeminacy, and he seemed to retain nothing of rogero but the name; such power had the enchantress obtained over him. melissa, under the form of his old instructor, presented herself before him, wearing a stern and serious visage. "is this, then," she said, "the fruit of all my labors? is it for this that i fed you on the marrow of bears and lions, that i taught you to subdue dragons, and, like hercules, strangle serpents in your youthful grasp, only to make you, by all my cares, a feeble adonis? my nightly watchings of the stars, of the yet warm fibres of animals, the lots i have cast, the points of nativity that i have calculated, have they all falsely indicated that you were born for greatness? who could have believed that you would become the slave of a base enchantress? o rogero, learn to know this alcina, learn to understand her arts and to countervail them. take this ring, place it on your finger, return to her presence, and see for yourself what are her real charms." at these words, rogero, confused, abashed, cast his eyes upon the ground, and knew not what to answer. melissa seized the moment, slipped the ring on his finger, and the paladin was himself again. what a thunderclap to him! overcome by shame, he dared not to encounter the looks of his instructor. when at last he raised his eyes he beheld not that venerable form, but the priestess melissa, who in virtue of the ring now appeared in her true person. she told him of the motives which had led her to come to his rescue, of the griefs and regrets of bradamante, and of her unwearied search for him. "that charming amazon," she said, "sends you this ring, which is a sovereign antidote to all enchantments. she would have sent you her heart in my hands, if it would have had greater power to serve you." it was needless for melissa to say more. rogero's love for alcina, being but the work of enchantment, vanished as soon as the enchantment was withdrawn, and he now hated her with an equal intensity, seeing no longer anything in her but her vices, and feeling only resentment for the shame that she had put upon him. his surprise when he again beheld alcina was no less than his indignation. fortified by his ring from her enchantments, he saw her as she was, a monster of ugliness. all her charms were artificial, and, truly viewed, were rather deformities. she was, in fact, older than hecuba or the sibyl of cumae; but an art, which it is to be regretted our times have lost, enabled her to appear charming, and to clothe herself in all the attractions of youth. rogero now saw all this, but, governed by the counsels of melissa, he concealed his surprise, assumed under some pretext his armor, long neglected, and bound to his side belisarda, his trusty sword, taking also the buckler of atlantes, covered with its veil. he then selected a horse from the stables of alcina, without exciting her suspicions; but he left the hippogriff, by the advice of melissa, who promised to take him in charge, and train him to a more manageable state. the horse he took was rabican, which belonged to astolpho. he restored the ring to melissa. rogero had not ridden far when he met one of the huntsmen of alcina, bearing a falcon on his wrist, and followed by a dog. the huntsman was mounted on a powerful horse, and came boldly up to the paladin, demanding, in a somewhat imperious manner, whither he was going so rapidly. rogero disdained to stop or to reply; whereupon the huntsman, not doubting that he was about making his escape, said, "what if i, with my falcon, stop your ride?" so saying, he threw off the bird, which even rabican could not equal in speed. the huntsman then leapt from his horse, and the animal, open-mouthed, darted after rogero with the swiftness of an arrow. the huntsman also ran as if the wind or fire bore him, and the dog was equal to rabican in swiftness. rogero, finding flight impossible, stopped and faced his pursuers; but his sword was useless against such foes. the insolent huntsman assailed him with words, and struck him with his whip, the only weapon he had; the dog bit his feet, and the horse drove at him with his hoofs. at the same time the falcon flew over his head and over rabican's and attacked them with claws and wings, so that the horse in his fright began to be unmanageable. at that moment the sound of trumpets and cymbals was heard in the valley, and it was evident that alcina had ordered out all her array to go in pursuit. rogero felt that there was no time to be lost, and luckily remembered the shield of atlantes, which he bore suspended from his neck. he unveiled it, and the charm worked wonderfully. the huntsman, the dog, the horse, fell flat; the trembling wings of the falcon could no longer sustain her, and she fell senseless to the ground. rogero, rid of their annoyances, left them in their trance, and rode away. meanwhile alcina, with all the force she could muster, sallied forth from her palace in pursuit. melissa, left behind, took advantage of the opportunity to ransack all the rooms, protected by the ring. she undid one by one all the talismans and spells which she found, broke the seals, burned the images, and untied the hagknots. thence, hurrying through the fields, she disenchanted the victims changed into trees, fountains, stones, or brutes; all of whom recovered their liberty, and vowed eternal gratitude to their deliverer. they made their escape, with all possible despatch, to the realms of the good logestilla, whence they departed to their several homes. astolpho was the first whom melissa liberated, for rogero had particularly recommended him to her care. she aided him to recover his arms, and particularly that precious golden-headed lance which once was argalia's. the enchantress mounted with him upon the winged horse, and in a short time arrived through the air at the castle of logestilla, where rogero joined them soon after. in this abode the friends passed a short period of delightful and improving intercourse with the sage logestilla and her virtuous court; and then each departed, rogero with the hippogriff, ring, and buckler; astolpho with his golden lance, and mounted on rabican, the fleetest of steeds. to rogero logestilla gave a bit and bridle suited to govern the hippogriff; and to astolpho a horn of marvellous powers, to be sounded only when all other weapons were unavailing. the orc we left the charming angelica at the moment when, in her flight from her contending lovers, sacripant and rinaldo, she met an aged hermit. we have seen that her request to the hermit was to furnish her the means of gaining the sea-coast, eager to avoid rinaldo, whom she hated, by leaving france and europe itself. the pretended hermit, who was no other than a vile magician, knowing well that it would not be agreeable to his false gods to aid angelica in this undertaking, feigned to comply with her desire. he supplied her a horse, into which he had by his arts caused a subtle devil to enter, and, having mounted angelica on the animal, directed her what course to take to reach the sea. angelica rode on her way without suspicion, but when arrived at the shore, the demon urged the animal headlong into the water. angelica in vain attempted to turn him back to the land; he continued his course till, as night approached, he landed with his burden on a sandy headland. angelica, finding herself alone, abandoned in this frightful solitude, remained without movement, as if stupefied, with hands joined and eyes turned towards heaven, till at last, pouring forth a torrent of tears, she exclaimed: "cruel fortune, have you not yet exhausted your rage against me? to what new miseries do you doom me? alas! then finish your work! deliver me a prey to some ferocious beast, or by whatever fate you choose bring me to an end. i will be thankful to you for terminating my life and my misery." at last, exhausted by her sorrows, she fell asleep, and sunk prostrate on the sand. before recounting what next befell, we must declare what place it was upon which the unhappy lady was now thrown. in the sea that washes the coast of ireland there is an island called ebuda, whose inhabitants, once numerous, had been wasted by the anger of proteus till there were now but few left. this deity was incensed by some neglect of the usual honors which he had in old times received from the inhabitants of the land, and, to execute his vengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster, called an orc, to devour them. such were the terrors of his ravages that the whole people of the isle had shut themselves up in the principal town, and relied on their walls alone to protect them. in this distress they applied to the oracle for advice, and were directed to appease the wrath of the sea-monster by offering to him the fairest virgin that the country could produce. now it so happened that the very day when this dreadful oracle was announced, and when the fatal mandate had gone forth to seek among the fairest maidens of the land one to be offered to the monster, some sailors, landing on the beach where angelica was, beheld that beauty as she lay asleep. o blind chance! whose power in human affairs is but too great, canst thou then abandon to the teeth of a horrible monster those charms which different sovereigns took arms against one another to possess? alas! the lovely angelica is destined to be the victim of those cruel islanders. still asleep, she was bound by the ebudians, and it was not until she was carried on board the vessel that she came to a knowledge of her situation. the wind filled the sails and wafted the ship swiftly to the port, where all that beheld her agreed that she was unquestionably the victim selected by proteus himself to be his prey. who can tell the screams, the mortal anguish of this unhappy maiden, the reproaches she addressed even to the heavens themselves, when the dreadful information of her cruel fate was made known to her? i cannot; let me rather turn to a happier part of my story. rogero left the palace of logestilla, careering on his flying courser far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward by the hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridle that melissa had given him. anxious as he was to recover bradamante, he could not fail to be delighted at the view his rapid flight presented of so many vast regions and populous countries as he passed over in his career. at last he approached the shores of england, and perceived an immense army in all the splendor of military pomp, as if about to go forth flushed with hopes of victory. he caused the hippogriff to alight not far from the scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by admiring spectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulge their curiosity and wonder. rogero learned, in reply to his questions, that the fine array of troops before him was the army destined to go to the aid of the french emperor, in compliance with the request presented by the illustrious rinaldo, as ambassador of king charles, his uncle. by this time the curiosity of the english chevaliers was partly gratified in beholding the hippogriff at rest, and rogero, to renew their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and, slapping spurs to his sides, made him launch into the air with the rapidity of a meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly, till he came within sight of the coasts of ireland. here he descried what seemed to be a fair damsel, alone, fast chained to a rock which projected into the sea. what was his astonishment when, drawing nigh, he beheld the beautiful princess angelica! that day she had been led forth and bound to the rock, there to wait till the sea-monster should come to devour her. rogero exclaimed as he came near, "what cruel hands, what barbarous soul, what fatal chance can have loaded thee with those chains?" angelica replied by a torrent of tears, at first her only response; then, in a trembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible destiny for which she was there exposed. while she spoke, a terrible roaring was heard far off on the sea. the huge monster soon came in sight, part of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed. angelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair. rogero, lance in rest, spurred his hippogriff toward the orc, and gave him a thrust. the horrible monster was like nothing that nature produces. it was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last furnished with tusks like those of the wild boar. rogero's lance had struck him between the eyes; but rock and iron are not more impenetrable than were his scales. the knight, seeing the fruitlessness of the first blow, prepared to give a second. the animal, beholding upon the water the shadow of the great wings of the hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and turned to seize what seemed nearer. rogero took the opportunity, and dealt him furious blows on various parts of his body, taking care to keep clear of his murderous teeth; but the scales resisted every attack. the orc beat the water with his tail till he raised a foam which enveloped rogero and his steed, so that the knight hardly knew whether he was in the water or the air. he began to fear that the wings of the hippogriff would be so drenched with water that they would cease to sustain him. at that moment rogero bethought him of the magic shield which hung at his saddle-bow; but the fear that angelica would also be blinded by its glare discouraged him from employing it. then he remembered the ring which melissa had given him, the power of which he had so lately proved. he hastened to angelica and placed it on her finger. then, uncovering the buckler, he turned its bright disk full in the face of the detestable orc. the effect was instantaneous. the monster, deprived of sense and motion, rolled over on the sea, and lay floating on his back. rogero would fain have tried the effect of his lance on the now exposed parts, but angelica implored him to lose no time in delivering her from her chains before the monster should revive. rogero, moved with her entreaties, hastened to do so, and, having unbound her, made her mount behind him on the hippogriff. the animal, spurning the earth, shot up into the air, and rapidly sped his way through it. rogero, to give time to the princess to rest after her cruel agitations, soon sought the earth again, alighting on the shore of brittany. near the shore a thick wood presented itself, which resounded with the songs of birds. in the midst, a fountain of transparent water bathed the turf of a little meadow. a gentle hill rose near by. rogero, making the hippogriff alight in the meadow, dismounted, and took angelica from the horse. when the first tumults of emotion had subsided angelica, casting her eyes downward, beheld the precious ring upon her finger, whose virtues she was well acquainted with, for it was the very ring which the saracen brunello had robbed her of. she drew it from her finger and placed it in her mouth, and, quicker than we can tell it, disappeared from the sight of the paladin. rogero looked around him on all sides, like one frantic, but soon remembered the ring which he had so lately placed on her finger. struck with the ingratitude which could thus recompense his services, he exclaimed: "thankless beauty, is this then the reward you make me? do you prefer to rob me of my ring rather than receive it as a gift? willingly would i have given it to you, had you but asked it." thus he said, searching on all sides with arms extended like a blind man, hoping to recover by the touch what was lost to sight; but he sought in vain. the cruel beauty was already far away. though sensible of her obligations to her deliverer, her first necessity was for clothing, food, and repose. she soon reached a shepherd's hut, where, entering unseen, she found what sufficed for her present relief. an old herdsman inhabited the hut, whose charges consisted of a drove of mares. when recruited by repose angelica selected one of the mares from the flock, and, mounting the animal, felt the desire revive in her mind of returning to her home in the east, and for that purpose would gladly have accepted the protection of orlando or of sacripant across those wide regions which divided her from her own country. in hopes of meeting with one or the other of them she pursued her way. meanwhile rogero, despairing of seeing angelica again, returned to the tree where he had left his winged horse, but had the mortification to find that the animal had broken his bridle and escaped. this loss, added to his previous disappointment, overwhelmed him with vexation. sadly he gathered up his arms, threw his buckler over his shoulders, and, taking the first path that offered, soon found himself within the verge of a dense and widespread forest. he had proceeded for some distance when he heard a noise on his right, and, listening attentively, distinguished the clash of arms. he made his way toward the place whence the sound proceeded, and found two warriors engaged in mortal combat. one of them was a knight of a noble and manly bearing, the other a fierce giant. the knight appeared to exert consummate address in defending herself against the massive club of the giant, evading his strokes, or parrying them with sword or shield. rogero stood spectator of the combat, for he did not allow himself to interfere in it, though a secret sentiment inclined him strongly to take part with the knight. at length he saw with grief the massive club fall directly on the head of the knight, who yielded to the blow, and fell prostrate. the giant sprang forward to despatch him, and for that purpose unlaced his helmet, when rogero, with dismay, recognized the face of bradamante. he cried aloud, "hold, miscreant!" and sprang forward with drawn sword. whereupon the giant, as if he cared not to enter upon another combat, lifted bradamante on his shoulders, and ran with her into the forest. rogero plunged after him, but the long legs of the giant carried him forward so fast that the paladin could hardly keep him in sight. at length they issued from the wood, and rogero perceived before him a rich palace, built of marble, and adorned with sculptures executed by a master hand. into this edifice, through a golden door, the giant passed, and rogero followed; but, on looking round, saw nowhere either the giant or bradamante. he ran from room to room, calling aloud on his cowardly foe to turn and meet him; but got no response, nor caught another glimpse of the giant or his prey. in his vain pursuit he met, without knowing them, ferrau, florismart, king gradasso, orlando, and many others, all of whom had been entrapped like himself into this enchanted castle. it was a new stratagem of the magician atlantes to draw rogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by any chance endanger his safety. what rogero had taken for bradamante was a mere phantom. that charming lady was far away, full of anxiety for her rogero, whose coming she had long expected. the emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison of marseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valor and discretion. one day melissa suddenly presented herself before her. anticipating her questions, she said, "fear not for rogero; he lives, and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty. the fell enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner. if you would deliver him, mount your horse and follow me." she told her in what manner atlantes had deceived rogero, in deluding his eyes with the phantom of herself in peril. "such," she continued, "will be his arts in your own case, if you penetrate the forest and approach that castle. you will think you behold rogero, when, in fact, you see only the enchanter himself. be not deceived, plunge your sword into his body, and trust me when i tell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not only rogero, but with him many of the bravest knights of france, whom the wizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign." bradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. melissa led her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the way with conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most. when at last they reached the forest, she repeated once more her instructions, and then took her leave, for fear the enchanter might espy her, and be put on his guard. bradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheld rogero, as it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants. while she hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help. at once the cautions of melissa lost their weight. a sudden doubt of the faith and truth of her kind monitress flashed across her mind. "shall i not believe my own eyes and ears?" she said, and rushed forward to his defence. rogero fled, pursued by the giants, and bradamante followed, passing with them through the castle gate. when there, bradamante was undeceived, for neither giant nor knight was to be seen. she found herself a prisoner, but had not the consolation of knowing that she shared the imprisonment of her beloved. she saw various forms of men and women, but could recognize none of them; and their lot was the same with respect to her. each viewed the others under some illusion of the fancy, wearing the semblance of giants, dwarfs, or even four-footed animals, so that there was no companionship or communication between them. astolpho's adventures continued, and isabella's begun when astolpho escaped from the cruel alcina, after a short abode in the realm of the virtuous logestilla, he desired to return to his native country. logestilla lent him the best vessel of her fleet to convey him to the mainland. she gave him at parting a wonderful book, which taught the secret of overcoming all manners of enchantments, and begged him to carry it always with him, out of regard for her. she also gave him another gift, which surpassed everything of the kind that mortal workmanship can frame; yet it was nothing in appearance but a simple horn. astolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, took leave of her, and set out on his return to france. his voyage was prosperous, and on reaching the desired port he took leave of the faithful mariners, and continued his journey by land. as he proceeded over mountains and through valleys he often met with bands of robbers, wild beasts, and venomous serpents, but he had only to sound his horn to put them all to flight. having landed in france, and traversed many provinces on his way to the army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside a fountain, and alighted to drink. while he stooped at the fountain a young rustic sprang from the copse, mounted rabican, and rode away. it was a new trick of the enchanter atlantes. astolpho, hearing the noise, turned his head just in time to see his loss; and, starting up, pursued the thief, who, on his part, did not press the horse to his full speed, but just kept in sight of his pursuer till they both issued from the forest; and then rabican and his rider took shelter in a castle which stood near. astolpho followed, and penetrated without difficulty within the court-yard of the castle, where he looked around for the rider and his horse, but could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he could make inquiry. suspecting that enchantment was employed to embarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting it discovered that his suspicions were well founded. he also learned what course to pursue. he was directed to raise the stone which served as a threshold, under which a spirit lay pent, who would willingly escape, and leave the castle free of access. astolpho applied his strength to lift aside the stone. thereupon the magician put his arts in force. the castle was full of prisoners, and the magician caused that to all of them astolpho should appear in some false guise--to some a wild beast, to others a giant, to others a bird of prey. thus all assailed him, and would quickly have made an end of him, if he had not bethought him of his horn. no sooner had he blown a blast than, at the horrid larum, fled the cavaliers and the necromancer with them, like a flock of pigeons at the sound of the fowler's gun. astolpho then renewed his efforts on the stone, and turned it over. the under face was all inscribed with magical characters, which the knight defaced, as directed by his book; and no sooner had he done so, than the castle, with its walls and turrets, vanished into smoke. the knights and ladies set at liberty were, besides rogero and bradamante, orlando, gradasso, florismart, and many more. at the sound of the horn they fled, one and all, men and steeds, except rabican, which astolpho secured, in spite of his terror. as soon as the sound had ceased rogero recognized bradamante, whom he had daily met during their imprisonment, but had been prevented from knowing by the enchanter's arts. no words can tell the delight with which they recognized each other, and recounted mutually all that had happened to each since they were parted. rogero took advantage of the opportunity to press his suit, and found bradamante as propitious as he could wish, were it not for a single obstacle, the difference of their faiths. "if he would obtain her in marriage," she said, "he must in due form demand her of her father, duke aymon, and must abandon his false prophet, and become a christian." the latter step was one which rogero had for some time intended taking, for reasons of his own. he therefore gladly accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at once repair to the abbey of vallombrosa, whose towers were visible at no great distance. thither they turned their horses' heads, and we will leave them to find their way without our company. i know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when rogero had just delivered angelica from the voracious orc that scornful beauty placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. at the same time the hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away, and flew to rejoin his former master, very naturally returning to his accustomed stable. here astolpho found him, to his very great delight. he knew the animal's powers, having seen rogero ride him, and he longed to fly abroad over all the earth, and see various nations and peoples from his airy course. he had heard logestilla's directions how to guide the animal, and saw her fit a bridle to his head. he therefore was able, out of all the bridles he found in the stable, to select one suitable, and, placing rabican's saddle on the hippogriff's back, nothing seemed to prevent his immediate departure. yet before he went he bethought him of placing rabican in hands where he would be safe, and whence he might recover him in time of need. while he stood deliberating where he should find a messenger, he saw bradamante approach. that fair warrior had been parted from rogero on their way to the abbey of vallombrosa, by an inopportune adventure which had called the knight away. she was now returning to montalban, having arranged with rogero to join her there. to bradamante, therefore, his fair cousin, astolpho committed rabican, and also the lance of gold, which would only be an incumbrance in his aerial excursion. bradamante took charge of both; and astolpho, bidding her farewell, soared in air. among those delivered by astolpho from the magician's castle was orlando. following the guide of chance, the paladin found himself at the close of day in a forest, and stopped at the foot of a mountain. surprised to discern a light which came from a cleft in the rock, he approached, guided by the ray, and discovered a narrow passage in the mountain-side, which led into a deep grotto. orlando fastened his horse, and then, putting aside the bushes that resisted his passage, stepped down from rock to rock till he reached a sort of cavern. entering it, he perceived a lady, young and handsome, as well as he could discover through the signs of distress which agitated her countenance. her only companion was an old woman, who seemed to be regarded by her young partner with terror and indignation. the courteous paladin saluted the women respectfully, and begged to know by whose barbarity they had been subjected to such imprisonment. the younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs: "though i know well that my recital will subject me to worse treatment by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this woman will not fail to report it, yet i will not hide from you the facts. ah! why should i fear his rage? if he should take my life, i know not what better boon than death i can ask. "my name is isabella. i am the daughter of the king of galicia, or rather i should say misfortune and grief are my parents. young, rich, modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to combine to render my lot happy. alas! i see myself to-day poor, humbled, miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further afflictions. it is a year since, my father having given notice that he would open the lists for a tournament at bayonne, a great number of chevaliers from all quarters came together at our court. among these zerbino, son of the king of scotland, victorious in all combats, eclipsed by his beauty and his valor all the rest. before departing from the court of galicia he testified the wish to espouse me, and i consented that he should demand my hand of the king, my father. but i was a mahometan, and zerbino a christian, and my father refused his consent. the prince, called home by his father to take command of the forces destined to the assistance of the french emperor, prevailed on me to be married to him secretly, and to follow him to scotland. he caused a galley to be prepared to receive me, and placed in command of it the chevalier oderic, a biscayan, famous for his exploits both by land and sea. on the day appointed, oderic brought his vessel to a seaside resort of my father's, where i embarked. some of my domestics accompanied me, and thus i departed from my native land. "sailing with a fair wind, after some hours we were assailed by a violent tempest. it was to no purpose that we took in all sail; we were driven before the wind directly upon the rocky shore. seeing no other hopes of safety, oderic placed me in a boat, followed himself with a few of his men, and made for land. we reached it through infinite peril, and i no sooner felt the firm land beneath my feet, than i knelt down and poured out heartfelt thanks to the providence that had preserved me. "the shore where we landed appeared to be uninhabited. we saw no dwelling to shelter us, no road to lead us to a more hospitable spot. a high mountain rose before us, whose base stretched into the sea. it was here the infamous oderic, in spite of my tears and entreaties, sold me to a band of pirates, who fancied i might be an acceptable present to their prince, the sultan of morocco. this cavern is their den, and here they keep me under the guard of this woman, until it shall suit their convenience to carry me away." isabella had hardly finished her recital when a troop of armed men began to enter the cavern. seeing the prince orlando, one said to the rest, "what bird is this we have caught, without even setting a snare for him?" then addressing orlando, "it was truly civil in you, friend, to come hither with that handsome coat of armor and vest, the very things i want." "you shall pay for them, then," said orlando; and seizing a half-burnt brand from the fire, he hurled it at him, striking his head, and stretching him lifeless on the floor. there was a massy table in the middle of the cavern, used for the pirates' repasts. orlando lifted it and hurled it at the robbers as they stood clustered in a group toward the entrance. half the gang were laid prostrate, with broken heads and limbs; the rest got away as nimbly as they could. leaving the den and its inmates to their fate, orlando, taking isabella under his protection, pursued his way for some days, without meeting with any adventure. one day they saw a band of men advancing, who seemed to be guarding a prisoner, bound hand and foot, as if being carried to execution. the prisoner was a youthful cavalier, of a noble and ingenuous appearance. the band bore the ensigns of count anselm, head of the treacherous house of maganza. orlando desired isabella to wait, while he rode forward to inquire the meaning of this array. approaching, he demanded of the leader who his prisoner was, and of what crime he had been guilty. the man replied that the prisoner was a murderer, by whose hand pinabel, the son of count anselm, had been treacherously slain. at these words the prisoner exclaimed, "i am no murderer, nor have i been in any way the cause of the young man's death." orlando, knowing the cruel and ferocious character of the chiefs of the house of maganza, needed no more to satisfy him that the youth was the victim of injustice. he commanded the leader of the troop to release his victim, and, receiving an insolent reply, dashed him to the earth with a stroke of his lance; then by a few vigorous blows dispersed the band, leaving deadly marks on those who were slowest to quit the field. orlando then hastened to unbind the prisoner, and to assist him to reclothe himself in his armor, which the false magencian had dared to assume. he then led him to isabella, who now approached the scene of action. how can we picture the joy, the astonishment, with which isabella recognized in him zerbino, her husband, and the prince discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in the waves! they embraced one another, and wept for joy. orlando, sharing in their happiness, congratulated himself in having been the instrument of it. the princess recounted to zerbino what the illustrious paladin had done for her, and the prince threw himself at orlando's feet, and thanked him as having twice preserved his life. while these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness were going on, a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, and caused the two knights to brace their helmets and stand on their guard. what the cause of the interruption was we shall record in another chapter. medoro france was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. the saracens and the christians, in numerous encounters, slew one another. on one occasion rinaldo led an attack on the infidel columns, broke and scattered them, till he found himself opposite to a knight whose armor (whether by accident or by choice, it matters not) bore the blazon of orlando. it was dardinel, the young and brave prince of zumara, and rinaldo remarked him by the slaughter he spread all around. "ah," said he to himself, "let us pluck up this dangerous plant before it has grown to its full height." as rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the christians to let his sword have free course, the pagans to escape its sweep. dardinel and he stood face to face. rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely, "young man, whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you a dangerous gift; i should like to see how you are able to defend those quarterings, red and white. if you cannot defend them against me, how pray will you do so when orlando challenges them?" dardinel replied: "thou shalt learn that i can defend the arms i bear, and shed new glory upon them. no one shall rend them from me but with life." saying these words, dardinel rushed upon rinaldo with sword uplifted. the chill of mortal terror filled the souls of the saracens when they beheld rinaldo advance to attack the prince, like a lion against a young bull. the first blow came from the hand of dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from mambrino's helmet without effect. rinaldo smiled, and said, "i will now show you if my strokes are more effectual." at these words he thrust the unfortunate dardinel in the middle of his breast. the blow was so violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out a palm-breadth behind his back. through this wound the life of dardinel issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to the ground. as a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, and droops its head, so dardinel, his visage covered with the paleness of death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perish with him. like waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken, spread abroad through all the country, so the moors, no longer kept in column by the example of dardinel, fled in all directions. rinaldo despised too much such easy victories to pursue them; he wished for no combats but with brave men. at the same time, the other paladins made terrible slaughter of the moors. charles himself, oliver, guido, and ogier the dane, carried death into their ranks on all sides. the infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadful day; but the wise king, marsilius, at last put some slight degree of method into the general rout. he collected the remnant of the troops, formed them into a battalion, and retreated in tolerable order to his camp. that camp was well fortified by intrenchments and a broad ditch. thither the fugitives hastened, and by degrees all that remained of the moorish army was brought together there. the emperor might perhaps that night have crushed his enemy entirely; but not thinking it prudent to expose his troops, fatigued as they were, to an attack upon a camp so well fortified, he contented himself with encompassing the enemy with his troops, prepared to make a regular siege. during the night the moors had time to see the extent of their loss. their tents resounded with lamentations. this warrior had to mourn a brother, that a friend; many suffered with grievous wounds, all trembled at the fate in store for them. there were two young moors, both of humble rank, who gave proof at that time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man. cloridan and medoro had followed their prince, dardinel, to the wars of france. cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength with activity. medoro was a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair and blooming. of all the saracens, no one united so much grace and beauty. his light hair was set off by his black and sparkling eyes. the two friends were together on guard at the rampart. about midnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection. medoro, with tears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince dardinel, and could not endure the thought that his body should be cast out on the plain, deprived of funeral honors. "o my friend," said he, "must then the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens? alas! when i remember how he loved me, i feel that if i should sacrifice my life to do him honor, i should not do more than my duty. i wish, dear friend, to seek out his body on the battlefield, and give it burial, and i hope to be able to pass through king charles's camp without discovery, as they are probably all asleep. you, cloridan, will be able to say for me, if i should die in the adventure, that gratitude and fidelity to my prince were my inducements." cloridan was both surprised and touched with this proof of the young man's devotion. he loved him tenderly, and tried for a long time every effort to dissuade him from his design; but he found medoro determined to accomplish his object or die in the endeavor. cloridan, unable to change his purpose, said, "i will go with you, medoro, and help you in this generous enterprise. i value not life compared with honor, and if i did, do you suppose, dear friend, that i could live without you? i would rather fall by the arms of our enemies than die of grief for the loss of you." when the two friends were relieved from their guard duty they went without any followers into the camp of the christians. all there was still; the fires were dying out; there was no fear of any attempt on the part of the saracens, and the soldiers, overcome by fatigue or wine, slept secure, lying upon the ground in the midst of their arms and equipage. cloridan stopped, and said, "medoro, i am not going to quit this camp without taking vengeance for the death of our prince. keep watch, be on your guard that no one shall surprise us; i mean to mark a road with my sword through the ranks of our enemies." so saying, he entered the tent where alpheus slept, who a year before had joined the camp of charles, and pretended to be a great physician and astrologer. but his science had deceived him, if it gave him hope of dying peacefully in his bed at a good old age; his lot was to die with little warning. cloridan ran his sword through his heart. a greek and a german followed, who had been playing late at dice: fortunate if they had continued their game a little longer; but they never reckoned a throw like this among their chances. cloridan next came to the unlucky grillon, whose head lay softly on his pillow. he dreamed probably of the feast from which he had but just retired; for when cloridan cut off his head wine flowed forth with the blood. the two young moors might have penetrated even to the tent of charlemagne; but knowing that the paladins encamped around him kept watch by turns, and judging that it was impossible they should all be asleep, they were afraid to go too near. they might also have obtained rich booty; but, intent only on their object, they crossed the camp, and arrived at length at the bloody field, where bucklers, lances, and swords lay scattered in the midst of corpses of poor and rich, common soldier and prince, horses and pools of blood. this terrible scene of carnage would have destroyed all hope of finding what they were in search of until dawn of day, were it not that the moon lent the aid of her uncertain rays. medoro raised his eyes to the planet, and exclaimed, "o holy goddess, whom our fathers have adored under three different forms,--thou who displayest thy power in heaven, on earth, and in the underworld,--thou who art seen foremost among the nymphs chasing the beasts of the forest,--cause me to see, i implore thee, the spot where my dear master lies, and make me all my life long follow the example which thou dost exhibit of works of charity and love." either by accident, or that the moon was sensible of the prayer of medoro, the cloud broke away, and the moonlight burst forth as bright as day. the rays seemed especially to gild the spot where lay the body of prince dardinel; and medoro, bathed in tears and with bleeding heart, recognized him by the quarterings of red and white on his shield. with groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accents suppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not for life, but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their pious duty while yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that they should together bear dardinel on their shoulders, sharing the burden of the beloved remains. marching with rapid strides under their precious load, they perceived that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shades of night would soon be dispersed by the dawn. just then zerbino, whose extreme valor had urged him far from the camp in pursuit of the fugitives, returning, entered the wood in which they were. some knights in his train perceived at a distance the two brothers-in-arms. cloridan saw the troop, and, observing that they dispersed themselves over the plain as if in search of booty, told medoro to lay down the body, and let each save himself by flight. he dropped his part, thinking that medoro would do the same; but the good youth loved his prince too well to abandon him, and continued to carry his load singly as well as he might, while cloridan made his escape. near by there was a part of the wood tufted as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. the unfortunate youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master, plunged into its recesses. cloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes, discovered that medoro was not with him. "ah!" exclaimed he, "how could i, dear medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safety without heeding yours?" so saying, he retraced the tangled passes of the wood toward the place from whence he had fled. as he approached he heard the noise of horses, and the menacing voices of armed men. soon he perceived medoro, on foot, with the cavaliers surrounding him. zerbino, their commander, bade them seize him. the unhappy medoro turned now this way, now that, trying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still bearing the body, which he would by no means leave. cloridan not knowing how to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he must perish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, and pierces the breast of a christian knight, who falls helpless from his horse. the others look this way and that, to discover whence the fatal bolt was sped. one, while demanding of his comrades in what direction the arrow came, received a second in his throat, which stopped his words, and soon closed his eyes to the scene. zerbino, furious at the death of his two comrades, ran upon medoro, seized his golden hair, and dragged him forward to slay him. but the sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. he stayed his arm. the young man spoke in suppliant tones. "ah! signor," said he, "i conjure you by the god whom you serve, deprive me not of life until i shall have buried the body of the prince, my master. fear not that i will ask you any other favor; life is not dear to me; i desire death as soon as i shall have performed this sacred duty. do with me then as you please. give my limbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first bury my prince." medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet and tender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them. zerbino was so to the bottom of his soul. he was on the point of uttering words of mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting all respect to his commander, plunged his lance into the breast of the young moor. zerbino, enraged at his brutality, turned upon the wretch to take vengeance, but he saved himself by a precipitate flight. cloridan, who saw medoro fall, could contain himself no longer. he rushed from his concealment, threw down his bow, and, sword in hand, seemed only desirous of vengeance for medoro, and to die with him. in a moment, pierced through and through with many wounds, he exerts the last remnant of his strength in dragging himself to medoro, to die embracing him. the cavaliers left them thus to rejoin zerbino, whose rage against the murderer of medoro had drawn him away from the spot. cloridan died; and medoro, bleeding copiously, was drawing near his end when help arrived. a young maiden approached the fallen knights at this critical moment. her dress was that of a peasant-girl, but her air was noble, and her beauty celestial; sweetness and goodness reigned in her lovely countenance. it was no other than angelica, the princess of cathay. when she had recovered that precious ring, as we have before related, angelica, knowing its value, felt proud in the power it conferred, travelled alone without fear, not without a secret shame that she had ever been obliged to seek protection in her wanderings of the count orlando and of sacripant. she reproached herself too as with a weakness that she had ever thought of marrying rinaldo; in fine, her pride grew so high as to persuade her that no man living was worthy to aspire to her hand. moved with pity at the sight of the young man wounded, and melted to tears at hearing the cause, she quickly recalled to remembrance the knowledge she had acquired in india, where the virtues of plants and the art of healing formed part of the education even of princesses. the beautiful queen ran into the adjoining meadow to gather plants of virtue to staunch the flow of blood. meeting on her way a countryman on horseback seeking a strayed heifer, she begged him to come to her assistance, and endeavor to remove the wounded man to a more secure asylum. angelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between two stones, laid them with her fair hand on medoro's wound. the remedy soon restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who, before he would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turf the bodies of his friend and of the prince. then surrendering himself to the pity of his deliverers, he allowed them to place him on the horse of the shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage. it was a pleasant farmhouse on the borders of the wood, bearing marks of comfort and competency. there the shepherd lived with his wife and children. there angelica tended medoro, and there, by the devoted care of the beautiful queen, his sad wound closed over, and he recovered his perfect health. o count rinaldo, o king sacripant! what availed it you to possess so many virtues and such fame? what advantage have you derived from all your high deserts? o hapless king, great agrican! if you could return to life, how would you endure to see yourself rejected by one who will bow to the yoke of hymen in favor of a young soldier of humble birth? and thou, ferrau, and ye numerous others who a hundred times have put your lives at hazard for this cruel beauty, how bitter will it be to you to see her sacrifice you all to the claims of the humble medoro! there, under the low roof of a shepherd, the flame of hymen was lighted for this haughty queen. she takes the shepherd's wife to serve in place of mother, the shepherd and his children for witnesses, and marries the happy medoro. angelica, after her marriage, wishing to endow medoro with the sovereignty of the countries which yet remained to her, took with him the road to the east. she had preserved through all her adventures a bracelet of gold enriched with precious stones, the present of the count orlando. having nothing else wherewith to reward the good shepherd and his wife, who had served her with so much care and fidelity, she took the bracelet from her arm and gave it to them, and then the newly-married couple directed their steps toward those mountains which separate france and spain, intending to wait at barcelona a vessel which should take them on their way to the east. orlando mad orlando, on the loss of angelica, laid aside his crest and arms, and arrayed himself in a suit of black armor expressive of his despair. in this guise he carried such slaughter among the ranks of the infidels that both armies were astonished at the achievements of the stranger knight. mandricardo, who had been absent from the battle, heard the report of these achievements and determined to test for himself the valor of the knight so extolled. he it was who broke in upon the conference of zerbino and isabella, and their benefactor orlando, as they stood occupied in mutual felicitations, after the happy reunion of the lovers by the prowess of the paladin. mandricardo, after contemplating the group for a moment, addressed himself to orlando in these words: "thou must be the man i seek. for ten days and more i have been on thy track. the fame of thy exploits has brought me hither, that i may measure my strength with thine. thy crest and shield prove thee the same who spread such slaughter among our troops. but these marks are superfluous, and if i saw thee among a hundred i should know thee by thy martial bearing to be the man i seek." "i respect thy courage," said orlando; "such a design could not have sprung up in any but a brave and generous soul. if the desire to see me has brought thee hither, i would, if it were possible, show thee my inmost soul. i will remove my visor, that you may satisfy your curiosity; but when you have done so i hope that you will also try and see if my valor corresponds to my appearance." "come on," said the saracen, "my first wish was to see and know thee; i will not gratify my second." orlando, observing mandricardo was surprised to see no sword at his side, nor mace at his saddle-bow. "and what weapon hast thou," said he, "if thy lance fail thee?" "do not concern yourself about that," said mandricardo; "i have made many good knights give ground with no other weapon than you see. know that i have sworn an oath never to bear a sword until i win back that famous durindana that orlando, the paladin, carries. that sword belongs to the suit of armor which i wear; that only is wanting. without doubt it was stolen, but how it got into the hands of orlando i know not. but i will make him pay dearly for it when i find him i seek him the more anxiously that i may avenge with his blood the death of king agrican, my father, whom he treacherously slew. i am sure he must have done it by treachery, for it was not in his power to subdue in fair fight such a warrior as my father." "thou liest," cried orlando; "and all who say so lie. i am orlando, whom you seek; yes, i am he who slew your father honorably. hold, here is the sword: you shall have it if your courage avails to merit it. though it belongs to me by right, i will not use it in this dispute. see, i hang it on this tree; you shall be master of it, if you bereave me of life; not else." at these words orlando drew durindana, and hung it on one of the branches of a tree near by. both knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle; then rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck one another with their lances. both kept their seats, immovable. the splinters of their lances flew into the air, and no weapon remained for either but the fragment which he held in his hand. then those two knights, covered with iron mail, were reduced to the necessity of fighting with staves, in the manner of two rustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or the possession of a spring. these clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdy smiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. such warfare was more painful to him that gave than to him that received the blows. they next clasped, and strained each his adversary, as hercules did antaeus. mandricardo, more enraged than orlando, made violent efforts to unseat the paladin, and dropped the rein of his horse. orlando, more calm, perceived it. with one hand he resisted mandricardo, with the other he twitched the horse's bridle over the ears of the animal. the saracen dragged orlando with all his might, but orlando's thighs held the saddle like a vise. at last the efforts of the saracen broke the girths of orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in his stirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly conscious of his fall. the noise of his armor in falling startled mandricardo's horse, now without a bridle. he started off in full career, heeding neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. urged by fright, he ran with furious speed, carrying his master, who, almost distracted with rage, shouted and beat the animal with his fists, and thereby impelled his flight. after running thus three miles or more, a deep ditch opposed their progress. the horse and rider fell headlong into it, and did not find the bottom covered with feather-beds or roses. they got sadly bruised; but were lucky enough to escape without any broken limbs. mandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse by his mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. he looked round in hopes of finding something that would do for a rein. just then fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last, brought that way a peasant with a bridle in his hand, who was in search of his farm horse that had strayed away. orlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted, and waited a good hour for the saracen to return. not seeing him, he concluded to go in search of him. he took an affectionate leave of zerbino and isabella, who would willingly have followed him; but this the brave paladin would by no means permit. he held it unknightly to go in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend, who might act as a defender. therefore, desiring them to say to mandricardo, if they should meet him, that his purpose was to tarry in the neighborhood three days, and then repair to the camp of charlemagne, he took down durindana from the tree, and proceeded in the direction which the saracen's horse had taken. but the animal, having no guide but its terror, had so doubled and confused its traces that orlando, after two days spent in the search, gave up the attempt. it was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrived on the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadow enamelled with flowers. high trees, whose tops met and formed an arbor, over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blew through their foliage tempered the heat. hither the shepherds used to resort to quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter from the midday sun. the air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed to breathe fresh strength into their veins. orlando felt the influence, though covered with his armor. he stopped in this delicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite to repose. but he could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. he there spent the most miserable moments of his life. he looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of the spot. he saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions --he drew near, and read them, and what was his surprise to find that they composed the name of angelica! farther on he found the name of medoro mixed with hers. the paladin thought he dreamed. he stood like one amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds its feet caught in a net. orlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of its turns where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as to form a sort of grotto. the twisted stems of ivy and the wild vine draped the entrance of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature. the unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters which appeared to have been lately carved. they were verses which medoro had written in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautiful queen. orlando tried to persuade himself it must be some other angelica whom those verses celebrated, and as for medoro, he had never heard his name. the sun was now declining, and orlando remounted his horse, and went on his way. he soon saw the roof of a cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble dwelling which seemed to offer an asylum for the night. the inmates, as soon as they saw him, hastened to tender him service. one took his horse, another his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. this cottage was the very same where medoro had been carried, deeply wounded,--where angelica had tended him, and afterwards married him. the shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody the story of this marriage, and soon related it, with all its details, to the miserable orlando. having finished it, he went away, and returned with the precious bracelet which angelica, grateful for his services, had given him as a memorial. it was the one which orlando had himself given her. this last touch was the finishing stroke to the excited paladin. frantic, exasperated, he exclaimed against the ungrateful and cruel princess who had disdained him, the most renowned, the most indomitable of all the paladins of france,--him, who had rescued her from the most alarming perils,--him, who had fought the most terrible battles for her sake,--she to prefer to him a young saracen! the pride of the noble count was deeply wounded. indignant, frantic, a victim to ungovernable rage, he rushed into the forest, uttering the most frightful shrieks. "no, no!" cried he, "i am not the man they take me for! orlando is dead! i am only the wandering ghost of that unhappy count, who is now suffering the torments of hell!" orlando wandered all night, as chance directed, through the wood, and at sunrise his destiny led him to the fountain where medoro had engraved the fatal inscription. the frantic paladin saw it a second time with fury, drew his sword, and hacked it from the rock. unlucky grotto! you shall no more attract by your shade and coolness, you shall no more shelter with your arch either shepherd or flock. and you, fresh and pure fountain, you may not escape the rage of the furious orlando! he cast into the fountain branches, trunks of trees which he tore up, pieces of rocks which he broke off, plants uprooted, with the earth adhering, and turf and brushes, so as to choke the fountain, and destroy the purity of its waters. at length, exhausted by his violent exertions, bathed in sweat, breathless, orlando sunk panting upon the earth, and lay there insensible three days and three nights. the fourth day he started up and seized his arms. his helmet, his buckler, he cast far from him; his hauberk and his clothes he rent asunder; the fragments were scattered through the wood. in fine, he became a furious madman. his insanity was such that he cared not to retain even his sword. but he had no need of durindana, nor of other arms, to do wonderful things. his prodigious strength sufficed. at the first wrench of his mighty arm he tore up a pine- tree by the roots. oaks, beeches, maples, whatever he met in his path, yielded in like manner. the ancient forest soon became as bare as the borders of a morass, where the fowler has cleared away the bushes to spread his nets. the shepherds, hearing the horrible crashing in the forest, abandoned their flocks to run and see the cause of this unwonted uproar. by their evil star, or for their sins, they were led thither. when they saw the furious state the count was in, and his incredible force, they would fain have fled out of his reach, but in their fears lost their presence of mind. the madman pursued them, seized one and rent him limb from limb, as easily as one would pull ripe apples from a tree. he took another by the feet, and used him as a club to knock down a third. the shepherds fled; but it would have been hard for any to escape, if he had not at that moment left them to throw himself with the same fury upon their flocks. the peasants, abandoning their ploughs and harrows, mounted on the roofs of buildings and pinnacles of the rocks, afraid to trust themselves even to the oaks and pines. from such heights they looked on, trembling at the raging fury of the unhappy orlando. his fists, his teeth, his nails, his feet, seize, break, and tear cattle, sheep, and swine; the most swift in flight alone being able to escape him. when at last terror had scattered everything before him, he entered a cottage which was abandoned by its inhabitants, and there found that which served for food. his long fast had caused him to feel the most ravenous hunger. seizing whatever he found that was eatable, whether roots, acorns, or bread, raw meat or cooked, he gorged it indiscriminately. issuing thence again, the frantic orlando gave chase to whatever living thing he saw, whether men or animals. sometimes he pursued the deer and hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, and with his naked hands killed and tore them, and devoured their flesh. thus he wandered, from place to place, through france, imperilling his life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysterious providence from a fatal result. but here we leave orlando for a time, that we may record what befell zerbino and isabella after their parting with him. the prince and his fair bride waited, by orlando's request, near the scene of the battle for three days, that, if mandricardo should return, they might inform him where orlando would give him another meeting. at the end of that time their anxiety to know the issue led them to follow orlando's traces, which led them at last to the wood where the trees were inscribed with the names of angelica and medoro. they remarked how all these inscriptions were defaced, and how the grotto was disordered, and the fountain clogged with rubbish. but that which surprised them and distressed them most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of orlando, and not far from it his helmet, the same which the renowned almontes once wore. hearing a horse neigh in the forest, zerbino turned his eyes in that direction, and saw brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hanging at the saddle-bow. he looked round for durindana, and found that famous sword, without the scabbard, lying on the grass. he saw also the fragments of orlando's other arms and clothing scattered on all sides over the plain. zerbino and isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowing what to think, but little imagining the true cause. if they had found any marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of the clothing, they would have supposed him slain, but there were none. while they were in this painful uncertainty they saw a young peasant approach. he, not yet recovered from the terror of the scene, which he had witnessed from the top of a rock, told them the whole of the sad events. zerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all the scattered arms. isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sad duty. when they had collected all the pieces of that rich armor they hung them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their being violated by any passers-by, zerbino inscribed on the bark this caution: "these are the arms of the paladin orlando." having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just then a knight rode up, and requested zerbino to tell him the meaning of the trophy. the prince related the facts as they had happened; and mandricardo, for it was that saracen knight, full of joy, rushed forward, and seized the sword, saying, "no one can censure me for what i do; this sword is mine; i can take my own wherever i find it. it is plain that orlando, not daring to defend it against me, has counterfeited madness to excuse him in surrendering it." zerbino vehemently exclaimed, "touch not that sword. think not to possess it without a contest. if it be true that the arms you wear are those of hector, you must have got them by theft, and not by prowess." immediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. the air resounded with thick-falling blows. zerbino, skilful and alert, evaded for a time with good success the strokes of durindana; but at length a terrible blow struck him on the neck. he fell from his horse, and the tartar king, possessed of the spoils of his victory, rode away. zerbino and isabella zerbino's pain at seeing the tartar prince go off with the sword surpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so reduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell. isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only bemoan him, and chide her cruel fate. zerbino said, "if i could but leave thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would not distress me to die; but to abandon thee so, without protection, is sad indeed." she replied, "think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be parted; this sword will give me the means to follow thee." zerbino's last words implored her to banish such a thought, but live, and be true to his memory. isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to him so long as life should last. when he ceased to breathe, isabella's cries resounded through the forest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to the spot. he soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations which the word of god supplies; and at last brought her to wish for nothing else but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly to religion. as she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord abandoned, the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the horse, and taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was made for it, suitable to be carried with them on their way. the hermit's plan was to escort his charge to a monastery, not many days' journey distant, where isabella resolved to spend the remainder of her days. thus they travelled day after day, choosing the most retired ways, for the country was full of armed men. one day a cavalier met them, and barred their way. it was no other than rodomont, king of algiers, who had just left the camp of agramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had received from doralice. at sight of the lovely lady and her reverend attendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black, he asked the meaning of their journey. isabella told him her affliction, and her resolution to renounce the world and devote herself to religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost. rodomont laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her project was absurd; that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, not buried, and that he himself would more than make amends for her dead lover. the monk, who promptly interposed to rebuke this impious talk, was commanded to hold his peace; and still persisting was seized by the knight and hurled over the edge of the cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned. rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the sad lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by lovers, said, "she was his very heart, his life, his light." having laid aside all violence, he humbly sued that she would accompany him to his retreat, near by. it was a ruined chapel from which the monks had been driven by the disorders of the time, and which rodomont had taken possession of. isabella, who had no choice but to obey, followed him, meditating as she went what resource she could find to escape out of his power, and keep her vow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his memory as long as life should last. at length she said, "if, my lord, you will let me go and fulfil my vow, and my intention, as i have already declared it, i will bestow upon you what will be to you of more value than a hundred women's hearts. i know an herb, and i have seen it on our way, which, rightly prepared, affords a juice of such power, that the flesh, if laved with it, becomes impenetrable to sword or fire. this liquor i can make, and will, to-day, if you will accept my offer; and when you have seen its virtue you will value it more than if all europe were made your own." rodomont, at hearing this, readily promised all that was asked, so eager was he to learn a secret that would make him as achilles was of yore. isabella, having collected such herbs as she thought proper, and boiled them, with certain mysterious signs and words, at length declared her labor done, and, as a test, offered to try its virtue on herself. she bathed her neck and bosom with the liquor, and then called on rodomont to smite with all his force, and see whether his sword had power to harm. the pagan, who during the preparations had taken frequent draughts of wine, and scarce knew what he did, drew his sword at the word, and struck across her neck with all his might, and the fair head leapt sundered from the snowy neck and breast. rude and unfeeling as he was, the pagan knight lamented bitterly this sad result. to honor her memory he resolved to do a work as unparalleled as her devotion. from all parts round he caused laborers to be brought, and had a tower built to enclose the chapel, within which the remains of zerbino and isabella were entombed. across the stream which flowed near by he built a bridge, scarce two yards wide, and added neither parapet nor rail. on the top of the tower a sentry was placed, who, when any traveller approached the bridge, gave notice to his master. rodomont thereupon sallied out, and defied the approaching knight to fight him upon the bridge, where any chance step a little aside would plunge the rider headlong in the stream. this bridge he vowed to keep until a thousand suits of armor should be won from conquered knights, wherewith to build a trophy to his victim and her lord. within ten days the bridge was built, and the tower was in progress. in a short time many knights, either seeking the shortest route, or tempted by a desire of adventure, had made the attempt to pass the bridge. all, without exception, had lost either arms or life, or both; some falling before rodomont's lance, others precipitated into the river. one day, as rodomont stood urging his workmen, it chanced that orlando in his furious mood came thither, and approached the bridge. rodomont halloed to him, "halt, churl; presume not to set foot upon that bridge; it was not made for such as you!" orlando took no notice, but pressed on. just then a gentle damsel rode up. it was flordelis, who was seeking her florismart. she saw orlando, and, in spite of his strange appearance, recognized him. rodomont, not used to have his commands disobeyed, laid hands on the madman, and would have thrown him into the river, but to his astonishment found himself in the gripe of one not so easily disposed of. "how can a fool have such strength?" he growled between his teeth. flordelis stopped to see the issue, where each of these two puissant warriors strove to throw the other from the bridge. orlando at last had strength enough to lift his foe with all his armor, and fling him over the side, but had not wit to clear himself from him, so both fell together. high flashed the wave as they together smote its surface. here orlando had the advantage; he was naked, and could swim like a fish. he soon reached the bank, and, careless of praise or blame, stopped not to see what came of the adventure. rodomont, entangled with his armor, escaped with difficulty to the bank. meantime, flordelis passed the bridge unchallenged. after long wandering without success she returned to paris, and there found the object of her search; for florismart, after the fall of albracca, had repaired thither. the joy of meeting was clouded to florismart by the news which flordelis brought of orlando's wretched plight. the last she had seen of him was when he fell with rodomont into the stream. florismart, who loved orlando like a brother, resolved to set out immediately, under the guidance of the lady, to find him, and bring him where he might receive the treatment suited to his case. a few days brought them to the place where they found the tartar king still guarding the bridge. the usual challenge and defiance was made, and the knights rode to encounter one another on the bridge. at the first encounter both horses were overthrown; and, having no space to regain their footing, fell with their riders into the water. rodomont, who knew the soundings of the stream, soon recovered the land; but florismart was carried downward by the current, and landed at last on a bank of mud where his horse could hardly find footing. flordelis, who watched the battle from the bridge, seeing her lover in this piteous case, exclaimed aloud, "ah! rodomont, for love of her whom dead you honor, have pity on me, who love this knight, and slay him not. let it suffice he yields his armor to the pile, and none more glorious will it bear than his." her prayer, so well directed, touched the pagan's heart, though hard to move, and he lent his aid to help the knight to land. he kept him a prisoner, however, and added his armor to the pile. flordelis, with a heavy heart, went her way. we must now return to rogero, who, when we parted with him, was engaged in an adventure which arrested his progress to the monastery whither he was bound with the intention of receiving baptism, and thus qualifying himself to demand bradamante as his bride. on his way he met with mandricardo, and the quarrel was revived respecting the right to wear the badge of hector. after a warm discussion both parties agreed to submit the question to king agramant, and for that purpose took their way to the saracen camp. here they met gradasso, who had his controversy also with mandricardo. this warrior claimed the sword of orlando, denying the right of mandricardo to possess it in virtue of his having found it abandoned by its owner. king agramant strove in vain to reconcile these quarrels, and was forced at last to consent that the points in dispute should be settled by one combat, in which mandricardo should meet one of the other champions, to whom should be committed the cause of both. rogero was chosen by lot to maintain gradasso's cause and his own. great preparations were made for this signal contest. on the appointed day it was fought in the presence of agramant, and of the whole army. rogero won it; and mandricardo, the conqueror of hector's arms, the challenger of orlando, and the slayer of zerbino, lost his life. gradasso received durindana as his prize, which lost half its value in his eyes, since it was won by another's prowess, not his own. rogero, though victorious, was severely wounded, and lay helpless many weeks in the camp of agramant, while bradamante, ignorant of the cause of his delay, expected him at montalban. thither he had promised to repair in fifteen days, or twenty at furthest, hoping to have obtained by that time an honorable discharge from his obligations to the saracen commander. the twenty days were passed, and a month more, and still rogero came not, nor did any tidings reach bradamante accounting for his absence. at the end of that time, a wandering knight brought news of the famous combat, and of rogero's wound. he added, what alarmed bradamante still more, that marphisa, a female warrior, young and fair, was in attendance on the wounded knight. he added that the whole army expected that, as soon as rogero's wounds were healed, the pair would be united in marriage. bradamante, distressed by this news, though she believed it but in part, resolved to go immediately and see for herself. she mounted rabican, the horse of astolpho, which he had committed to her care, and took with her the lance of gold, though unaware of its wonderful powers. thus accoutred, she left the castle, and took the road toward paris and the camp of the saracens. marphisa, whose devotion to rogero in his illness had so excited the jealousy of bradamante, was the twin sister of rogero. she, with him, had been taken in charge when an infant by atlantes, the magician, but while yet a child she had been stolen away by an arab tribe. adopted by their chief, she had early learned horsemanship and skill in arms, and at this time had come to the camp of agramant with no other view than to see and test for herself the prowess of the warriors of either camp, whose fame rang through the world. arriving at the very moment of the late encounter, the name of rogero, and some few facts of his story which she learned, were enough to suggest the idea that it was her brother whom she saw victorious in the single combat. inquiry satisfied the two of their near kindred, and from that moment marphisa devoted herself to the care of her new-found and much- loved brother. in those moments of seclusion rogero informed his sister of what he had learned of their parentage from old atlantes. rogero, their father, a christian knight, had won the heart of galaciella, daughter of the sultan of africa, and sister of king agramant, converted her to the christian faith, and secretly married her. the sultan, enraged at his daughter's marriage, drove her husband into exile, and caused her with her infant children, rogero and marphisa, to be placed in a boat and committed to the winds and waves, to perish; from which fate they were saved by atlantes. on hearing this, marphisa exclaimed, "how can you, brother, leave our parents unavenged so long, and even submit to serve the son of the tyrant who so wronged them?" rogero replied that it was but lately he had learned the full truth; that when he learned it he was already embarked with agramant, from whom he had received knighthood, and that he only waited for a suitable opportunity when he might with honor desert his standard, and at the same time return to the faith of his fathers. marphisa hailed this resolution with joy, and declared her intention to join with him in embracing the christian faith. we left bradamante when, mounted on rabican and armed with astolpho's lance, she rode forth, determined to learn the cause of rogero's long absence. one day, as she rode, she met a damsel, of visage and of manners fair, but overcome with grief. it was flordelis, who was seeking far and near a champion capable of liberating and avenging her lord. flordelis marked the approaching warrior, and, judging from appearances, thought she had found the champion she sought. "are you, sir knight," she said, "so daring and so kind as to take up my cause against a fierce and cruel warrior who has made prisoner of my lord, and forced me thus to be a wanderer and a suppliant?" then she related the events which had happened at the bridge. bradamante, to whom noble enterprises were always welcome, readily embraced this, and the rather as in her gloomy forebodings she felt as if rogero was forever lost to her. next day the two arrived at the bridge. the sentry descried them approaching, and gave notice to his lord, who thereupon donned his armor and went forth to meet them. here, as usual, he called on the advancing warrior to yield his horse and arms an oblation to the tomb. bradamante replied, asking by what right he called on the innocent to do penance for his crime. "your life and your armor," she added, "are the fittest offering to her tomb, and i, a woman, the fittest champion to take them." with that she couched her spear, spurred her horse, and ran to the encounter. king rodomont came on with speed. the trampling sounded on the bridge like thunder. it took but a moment to decide the contest. the golden lance did its office, and that fierce moor, so renowned in tourney, lay extended on the bridge. "who is the loser now?" said bradamante; but rodomont, amazed that a woman's hand should have laid him low, could not or would not answer. silent and sad, he raised himself, unbound his helm and mail, and flung them against the tomb; then, sullen and on foot, left the ground; but first gave orders to one of his squires to release all his prisoners. they had been sent off to africa. besides florismart, there were sansonnet and oliver, who had ridden that way in quest of orlando, and had both in turn been overthrown in the encounter. bradamante after her victory resumed her route, and in due time reached the christian camp, where she readily learned an explanation of the mystery which had caused her so much anxiety. rogero and his fair and brave sister, marphisa, were too illustrious by their station and exploits not to be the frequent topic of discourse even among their adversaries, and all that bradamante was anxious to know reached her ear, almost without inquiry. we now return to gradasso, who by rogero's victory had been made possessor of durindana. there now only remained to him to seek the horse of rinaldo; and the challenge, given and accepted, was yet to be fought with that warrior, for it had been interrupted by the arts of malagigi. gradasso now sought another meeting with rinaldo, and met with no reluctance on his part. as the combat was for the possession of bayard, the knights dismounted and fought on foot. long time the battle lasted. rinaldo, knowing well the deadly stroke of durindana, used all his art to parry or avoid its blow. gradasso struck with might and main, but wellnigh all his strokes were spent in air, or if they smote they fell obliquely and did little harm. thus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, and seeing naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce by a strange noise. they turned, and beheld the good bayard attacked by a monstrous bird. perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed; but when or where such a bird was ever seen i have nowhere read, except in turpin; and i am inclined to believe that it was not a bird, but a fiend, evoked from underground by malagigi, and thither sent on purpose to interrupt the fight. whether a fiend or a fowl, the monster flew right at bayard, and clapped his wings in his face. thereat the steed broke loose, and ran madly across the plain, pursued by the bird, till bayard plunged into the wood, and was lost to sight. rinaldo and gradasso, seeing bayard's escape, agreed to suspend their battle till they could recover the horse, the object of contention. gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot- marks of bayard into the forest. rinaldo, never more vexed in spirit, remained at the spot, gradasso having promised to return thither with the horse, if he found him. he did find him, after long search, for he had the good fortune to hear him neigh. thus he became possessed of both the objects for which he had led an army from his own country, and invaded france. he did not forget his promise to bring bayard back to the place where he had left rinaldo, but only muttering, "now i have got him, he little knows me who expects me to give him up; if rinaldo wants the horse let him seek him in india, as i have sought him in france,"--he made the best of his way to arles, where his vessels lay; and in possession of the two objects of his ambition, the horse and the sword, sailed away to his own country. astolpho in abyssinia when we last parted with the adventurous paladin astolpho, he was just commencing that flight over the countries of the world from which he promised himself so much gratification. our readers are aware that the eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight as the hippogriff on which astolpho rode. it was not long, therefore, before the paladin, directing his course toward the southeast, arrived over that part of africa where the great river nile has its source. here he alighted, and found himself in the neighborhood of the capital of abyssinia, ruled by senapus, whose riches and power were immense. his palace was of surpassing splendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were all of pure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to all those uses for which we employ iron. it is so common that they prefer for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all the columns were made. precious stones of different kinds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and topazes were set in ornamental designs, and the walls and ceilings were adorned with pearls. it is in this country those famous balms grow of which there are some few plants in that part of judaea called gilead. musk, ambergris, and numerous gums, so precious in europe, are here in their native climate. it is said the sultan of egypt pays a vast tribute to the monarch of this country to hire him not to cut off the source of the nile, which he might easily do, and cause the river to flow in some other direction, thus depriving egypt of the source of its fertility. at the time of astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarch was in great affliction. in spite of his riches and the precious productions of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger. he was a prey to a flock of obscene birds called harpies, which attacked him whenever he sat at meat, and with their claws snatched, tore, and scattered everything, overturning the vessels, devouring the food, and infecting what they left with their filthy touch. it was said this punishment was inflicted upon the king because when young, and filled with pride and presumption, he had attempted to invade with an army the terrestrial paradise, which is situated on the top of a mountain whence the nile draws its source. nor was this his only punishment. he was struck blind. astolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastened to pay him his respects. king senapus received him graciously, and ordered a splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival. while the guests were seated at table, astolpho filling the place of dignity at the king's right hand, the horrid scream of the harpies was heard in the air, and soon they approached, hovering over the tables, seizing the food from the dishes, and overturning everything with the flapping of their broad wings. in vain the guests struck at them with knives and any weapons which they had, and astolpho drew his sword and gave them repeated blows, which seemed to have no more effect upon them than if their bodies had been made of tow. at last astolpho thought of his horn. he first gave warning to the king and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. the harpies, terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wings could carry them. the paladin mounted his hippogriff, and pursued them, blowing his horn as often as he came near them. they stretched their flight towards the great mountain, at the foot of which there is a cavern, which is thought to be the mouth of the infernal abodes. hither those horrid birds flew, as if to their home. having seen them all disappear in the recess, astolpho cared not to pursue them farther, but alighting, rolled huge stones into the mouth of the cave, and piled branches of trees therein, so that he effectually barred their passage out, and we have no evidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air. after this labor astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in a fountain whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock. having rested awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascending the mountain which towered above him. the hippogriff bore him swiftly upwards, and landed him on the top of the mountain, which he found to be an extensive plain. a splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose walls shone with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear the sight. astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, and made him poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely survey of this favored spot and its environs. it seemed as if nature and art had striven with one another to see which could do the most for its embellishment. astolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advance to meet him. this personage was clothed in a long vesture as white as snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hung down to the ground. a white beard descended to his middle, and his hair, of the same color, overshadowed his shoulders. his eyes were so brilliant that astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessed inhabitant of the heavenly mansions. the sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respect had dismounted from his horse, said to him: "noble chevalier, know that it is by the divine will you have been brought to the terrestrial paradise. your mortal nature could not have borne to scale these heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were not the will of heaven that you should be instructed in the means to succor charles, and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. i am prepared to impart the needed counsels; but before i begin let me welcome you to our sojourn. i doubt not your long fast and distant journey have given you a good appetite." the aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration; but his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was that one of the apostles of our lord to whom he said, "i will that thou tarry till i come." st. john, conducting astolpho, rejoined his companions. these were the patriarch enoch and the prophet elijah; neither of whom had yet seen his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, were dwelling in a region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternal spring, till the last trumpet shall sound. the three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise received astolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasant apartment, and took great care of the hippogriff, to whom they gave such food as suited him, while to the prince they presented fruits so delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our first parents for their sin in eating them without permission. astolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by these excellent fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at the first blush of dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met the beloved apostle coming to seek him. st. john took him by the hand, and told him many things relating to the past and the future. among others, he said, "son, let me tell you what is now going on in france. orlando, the illustrious prince who received at his birth the endowment of strength and courage more than mortal, raised up as was samson of old to be the champion of the true faith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving the christian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to run after a saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though she scorns him. to punish him his reason has been taken away, so that he runs naked through the land, over mountains and through valleys, without a ray of intelligence. the duration of his punishment has been fixed at three months, and that time having nearly expired, you have been brought hither to learn from us the means by which the reason of orlando may be restored. true, you will be obliged to make a journey with me, and we must even leave the earth, and ascend to the moon, for it is in that planet we are to seek the remedy for the madness of the paladin. i propose to make our journey this evening, as soon as the moon appears over our head." as soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presented its luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out in which he was accustomed to make excursions among the stars, the same which was employed long ago to convey elijah up from earth. the saint made astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins, and giving the word to the coursers, they bore them upward with astonishing celerity. at length they reached the great continent of the moon. its surface appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there a spot which, like rust, obscured its brightness. the paladin was astonished to see that the earth, with all its seas and rivers, seemed but an insignificant spot in the distance. the prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes, plains, hills, and valleys. many beautiful cities and castles enriched the landscape. he saw also vast forests, and heard in them the sound of horns and the barking of dogs, which led him to conclude that the nymphs were following the chase. the knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by the saint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed all around him. well he might be so, for that valley was the receptacle of things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or by the effect of time and chance. let no one suppose we speak here of kingdoms or of treasures; they are the toys of fortune, which she dispenses in turning her wheel; we speak of things which she can neither give nor take away. such are reputations, which appear at one time so brilliant, and a short time after are heard of no more. here, also, are countless vows and prayers for unattainable objects, lovers' sighs and tears, time spent in gaming, dressing, and doing nothing, the leisure of the dull and the intentions of the lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and plots; these and such like things fill all the valley. astolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, and which appeared to him so extraordinary. among the rest, he observed a great mountain of blown bladders, from which issued indistinct noises. the saint told him these were the dynasties of assyrian and persian kings, once the wonder of the earth, of which now scarce the name remains. astolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, "all these hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts of courtiers to princes, made in the hope of getting something better in return." he also showed him garlands of flowers in which snares were concealed; these were flatteries and adulations, meant to deceive. but nothing was so comical as the sight of numerous grasshoppers which had burst their lungs with chirping. these, he told him, were sonnets, odes, and dedications, addressed by venal poets to great people. the paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk. "it is," said the saint, "the charity done by frightened misers on their death-beds." it would take too long to tell all that the valley contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, and concealed vices were there in abundance. among the rest astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, and many imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been glad not to have been reminded of. but he also saw among so many lost things a great abundance of one thing which men are apt to think they all possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for,-- good sense. this commodity appeared under the form of a liquor, most light and apt to evaporate. it was therefore kept in vials, firmly sealed. one of these was labelled, "the sense of the paladin orlando." all the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one in astolpho's hand, which he found was his own. it was more than half full. he was surprised to find there many other vials which contained almost the whole of the wits of many persons who passed among men for wise. ah, how easy it is to lose one's reason! some lose theirs by yielding to the sway of the passions; some in braving tempests and shoals in search of wealth; some by trusting too much to the promises of the great; some by setting their hearts on trifles. as might have been expected, the bottles which held the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians, and above all, of poets, were in general the best filled of all. astolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all; and turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards as sage as one could wish; but the archbishop adds that there was reason to fear that some of the precious fluid afterwards found its way back into the bottle. the paladin took also the bottle which belonged to orlando. it was a large one, and quite full. before quitting the planetary region astolpho was conducted to an edifice on the borders of a river. he was shown an immense hall full of bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. a thousand different colors, brilliant or dull, some quite black, were among these skeins. in one part of the hall an old woman was busy winding off yarns from all these different bundles. when she had finished a skein another ancient dame took it and placed it with others; a third selected from the fleeces spun, and mingled them in due proportions. the paladin inquired what all this might be. "these old women," said the saint, "are the fates, who spin, measure, and terminate the lives of mortals. as long as the thread stretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoy the light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shut the eyes of those whose thread is spun." each one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron, bearing the name of the individual to whom it belonged. an old man, who, in spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk and active, ran without ceasing to fill his apron with these labels, and carried them away to throw them into the river, whose name was lethe. when he reached the shore of the river the old man shook out his apron, and the labels sunk to the bottom. a small number only floated for a time, hardly one in a thousand. numberless birds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the stream, with clamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some of these names; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while the birds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. but two beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of the names, and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymph received them from their beaks, and carried them to a temple placed upon a hill, and suspended them for all time upon a sacred column, on which stood the statue of immortality. astolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explain it. he replied, "the old man is time. all the names upon the tickets would be immortal if the old man did not plunge them into the river of oblivion. those clamorous birds which make vain efforts to save certain of the names are flatterers, pensioners, venal rhymesters, who do their best to rescue from oblivion the unworthy names of their patrons; but all in vain; they may keep them from their fate a little while, but ere long the river of oblivion must swallow them all. "the swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names to the temple of eternal memory, are the great poets, who save from oblivion worse than death the names of those they judge worthy of immortality. swans of this kind are rare. let monarchs know the true breed, and fail not to nourish with care such as may chance to appear in their time." the war in africa when astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial, st. john showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which he told him he had only to touch the eyes of the king of abyssinia to restore him to sight. "that important service," said the saint, "added to your having delivered him from the harpies, will induce him to give you an army wherewith to attack the africans in their rear, and force them to return from france to defend their own country." the saint also instructed him how to lead his troops in safety across the great deserts, where caravans are often overwhelmed with moving columns of sand. astolpho, fortified with ample instructions, remounted the hippogriff, thanked the saint, received his blessing, and took his flight down to the level country. keeping the course of the river nile, he soon arrived at the capital of abyssinia, and rejoined senapus. the joy of the king was great when he heard again the voice of the hero who had delivered him from the harpies. astolpho touched his eyes with the plant which he had brought from the terrestrial paradise, and restored their sight. the king's gratitude was unbounded. he begged him to name a reward, promising to grant it, whatever it might be. astolpho asked an army to go to the assistance of charlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred thousand men, but offered to lead them himself. the night before the day appointed for the departure of the troops astolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towards a mountain, whence the fierce south-wind issues, whose blast raises the sands of the nubian desert, and whirls them onward in overwhelming clouds. the paladin, by the advice of st. john, had prepared himself with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly, with its mouth open, over the vent whence issues this terrible wind. at the first dawn of morning the wind rushed from its cavern to resume its daily course, and was caught in the bag, and securely tied up. astolpho, delighted with his prize, returned to his army, placed himself at their head, and commenced his march. the abyssinians traversed without danger or difficulty those vast fields of sand which separate their country from the kingdoms of northern africa, for the terrible south-wind, taken completely captive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle. senapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, for his country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute of horses. this difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taught astolpho the means of remedying. he now put those means in operation. having reached a place whence he beheld a vast plain and the sea, he chose from his troops those who appeared to be the best made and the most intelligent. these he caused to be arranged in squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain which bordered the plain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry into effect his great design. here he found vast quantities of fragments of rock and pebbles. these he set rolling down the mountain's side, and, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, made themselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. next they began to neigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. some were bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. the troops at the foot of the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-created horses, which they easily did, for the miracle had been so considerate as to provide all the horses with bridles and saddles. astolpho thus suddenly found himself supplied with an excellent corps of cavalry, not fewer (as archbishop turpin asserts) than eighty thousand strong. with these troops astolpho reduced all the country to subjection, and at last arrived before the walls of agramant's capital city, biserta, to which he laid siege. we must now return to the camp of the christians, which lay before arles, to which city the saracens had retired after being defeated in a night attack led on by rinaldo. agramant here received the tidings of the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, the abyssinians, and learned that biserta was in danger of falling into their hands. he took counsel of his officers, and decided to send an embassy to charles, proposing that the whole quarrel should be submitted to the combat of two warriors, one from each side, according to the issue of which it should be decided which party should pay tribute to the other, and the war should cease. charlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn which affairs had taken in africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and rinaldo was selected on the part of the christians to sustain the combat. the saracens selected rogero for their champion. rogero was still in the saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind had been opened to the truth of the christian faith by the arguments of bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of the infidels on the first favorable opportunity, and to join the christian side. but his honor forbade him to do this while his former friends were in distress; and thus he waited for what time might bring forth, when he was startled by the announcement that he had been selected to uphold the cause of the saracens against the christians, and that his foe was to be rinaldo, the brother of bradamante. while rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence bradamante on her side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposed combat. if rogero should fall she felt that no other man living was worthy of her love; and if, on the other hand, heaven should resolve to punish france by the death of her chosen champion, bradamante would have to deplore her brother, so dear to her, and be no less completely severed from the object of her affections. while the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, the sage enchantress, melissa, suddenly appeared before her. "fear not, my daughter," said she, "i shall find a way to interrupt this combat which so distresses you." meanwhile rinaldo and rogero prepared their weapons for the conflict. rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be on foot, and with no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. the place assigned was a plain between the camp of charlemagne and the walls of arles. hardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorable combat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists. erelong the african troops were seen to advance from the city, agramant at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the moorish fashion, his horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead. rogero marched at his side, and some of the greatest warriors of the saracen camp attended him, bearing the various parts of his armor and weapons. charlemagne, on his part, proceeded from his intrenchments, ranged his troops in semicircle, and stood surrounded by his peers and paladins. some of them bore portions of the armor of rinaldo, the celebrated ogier, the dane, bearing the helmet which rinaldo took from mambrino. duke namo of bavaria and salomon of bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight, prepared for the occasion. the terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmost solemnity by all parties. it was agreed that if from either part any attempt was made to interrupt the battle both combatants should turn their arms against the party which should be guilty of the interruption; and both monarchs assented to the condition that in such case the champion of the offending party should be discharged from his allegiance, and at liberty to transfer his arms to the other side. when all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and their attendants retired each to his own side, and the champions were left alone. the two warriors advanced with measured steps towards each other, and met in the middle of the space. they attacked one another at the same moment, and the air resounded with the blows they gave. sparks flew from their battle-axes, while the velocity with which they managed their weapons astonished the beholders. rogero, always remembering that his antagonist was the brother of his betrothed, could not aim a deadly wound; he strove only to ward off those levelled against himself. rinaldo, on the other hand, much as he esteemed rogero, spared not his blows, for he eagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the sake of his country and his faith. the saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, and gave not to rinaldo such blows as he received from him. his disadvantage was so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest on the countenance of agramant. melissa, one of the most acute enchantresses that ever lived, seized this moment to disguise herself under the form of rodomont, that rude and impetuous warrior, who had now for some time been absent from the saracen camp. approaching agramant, she said, "how could you, my lord, have the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience to oppose the most redoubtable warrior of france? surely you must have been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate of your empire! but it is not too late. break without delay the agreement which is sure to result in your ruin." so saying, she addressed the troops who stood near, "friends," said she, "follow me; under my guidance every one of you will be a match for a score of those feeble christians." agramant, delighted at seeing rodomont once more at his side, gave his consent, and the saracens, at the instant, couched their lances, set spurs to their steeds, and swept down upon the french. melissa, when she saw her work successful, disappeared. rinaldo and rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armies engaged in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martial fury ceased at once, they joined hands, and resolved to act no more on either side until it should be clearly ascertained which party had failed to observe its oath. both renewed their promise to abandon forever the party which had been thus false and perjured. meanwhile, the christians, after the first moment of surprise, met the saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery of their foes. guido the wild, brother and rival of rinaldo, griffon and aquilant, sons of oliver, and numerous others whose names have already been celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants, and at last, after prodigious slaughter, forced them to take shelter within the walls of arles. we will now return to orlando, whom we last heard of as furiously mad, and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage. one day he came to the borders of a stream which intercepted his course. he swam across it, for he could swim like an otter, and on the other side saw a peasant watering his horse. he seized the animal, in spite of the resistance of the peasant, and rode it with furious speed till he arrived at the sea-coast, where spain is divided from africa by only a narrow strait. at the moment of his arrival a vessel had just put off to cross the strait. she was full of people who, with glass in hand, seemed to be taking a merry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable breeze. the frantic orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; but they, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paid him no attention. the paladin thought this behavior very uncivil; and by force of blows made his horse carry him into the water in pursuit of the ship. the wretched animal soon had only his head above water; but as orlando urged him forward, nothing was left for the poor beast but either to die or swim over to africa. already orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swell of the sea completely hid it from his sight. he continued to press his horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, and sunk beneath him. orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out his nervous arms, puffing the salt water from before his mouth, and carried his head above the waves. fortunately they were not rough, scarce a breath of wind agitated the surface; otherwise, the invincible orlando would then have met his death. but fortune, which it is said favors fools, delivered him from this danger, and landed him safe on the shore of ceuta. here he rambled along the shore till he came to where the black army of astolpho held its camp. now it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled with prisoners which rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and, not knowing of the presence of the abyssinian army, had sailed right into port, where of course the prisoners and their captors changed places, the former being set at liberty and received with all joy, the latter sent to serve in the galleys. astolpho thus found himself surrounded with christian knights, and he and his friends were exchanging greetings and felicitations, when a noise was heard in the camp, and seemed to increase every moment. astolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted their horses, and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded. imagine their astonishment when they saw that the tumult was caused by a single man, perfectly naked, and browned with dirt and exposure, but of a force and fury so terrible that he overturned all that offered to lay hands on him. astolpho, dudon, oliver, and florimart gazed at him with amazement. it was with difficulty they knew him. astolpho, who had been warned of his condition by his holy monitor, was the first to recognize him. as the paladins closed round orlando, the madman dealt one and another a blow of his fist, which, if they had not been in armor, or he had had any weapon, would probably have despatched them; as it was, dudon and astolpho measured their length on the sand. but florimart seized him from behind, sansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they succeeded in securing him with ropes. they took him to the water-side and washed him well, and then astolpho, having first bandaged his mouth so that he could not breathe except through his nose, brought the precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitly under his nostrils, when the good orlando took it all up in one breath. o marvellous prodigy! the paladin recovered in an instant all his intelligence. he felt like one who had awakened from a painful dream, in which he had believed that monsters were about to tear him to pieces. he seemed prostrated, silent, and abashed. florismart, oliver, and astolpho stood gazing upon him, while he turned his eyes around and on himself. he seemed surprised to find himself naked, bound, and stretched on the sea-shore. after a few moments he recognized his friends, and spoke to them in a tone so tender that they hastened to unbind him, and to supply him with garments. then they exerted themselves to console him, to diminish the weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to make him forget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk. orlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also delivered from his insane attachment to the queen of cathay. his heart felt now no further influenced by the recollection of her than to be moved with an ardent desire to retrieve his fame by some distinguished exploit. astolpho would gladly have yielded to him the chief command of the army, but orlando would not take from the friend to whom he owed so much the glory of the campaign; but in everything the two paladins acted in concert, and united their counsels. they proposed to make a general assault on the city of biserta, and were only waiting a favorable moment, when their plan was interrupted by new events. agramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction of the truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain to attempt to remain in france. so, in concert with sobrino, the bravest and most trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return to his own country, having previously sent off his few remaining troops in the same direction. the vessel which carried agramant and sobrino approached the shore where the army of astolpho lay encamped before biserta, and having discovered this fact before it was too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer eastward, with a view to seek protection of the king of egypt. but the weather becoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions, and sought harbor in an island which lies between sicily and africa. there he found gradasso, the warlike king of sericane, who had come to france to possess himself of the horse bayard and the sword durindana; and having procured both these prizes was returning to his own country. the two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls of paris, embraced one another affectionately. gradasso learned with regret the reverses of agramant, and offered him his troops and his person. he strongly deprecated resorting to egypt for aid. "remember the great pompey," said he, "and shun that fatal shore. my plan," he continued, "is this: i mean to challenge orlando to single combat. possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if he were made of steel or bronze, he could not escape me. he being removed, there will be no difficulty in driving back the abyssinians. we will rouse against them the moslem nations from the other side of the nile, the arabians, persians, and chaldeans, who will soon make senapus recall his army to defend his own territories." agramant approved this advice except in one particular. "it is for me," said he, "to combat orlando; i cannot with honor devolve that duty on another." "let us adopt a third course," said the aged warrior sobrino. "i would not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest. let us send three squires to the shore of africa to challenge orlando and any two of his companions in arms to meet us three in this island of lampedusa." this counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; and now presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to the christian knights. orlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts. he had already resolved to seek gradasso and compel him to restore durindana, which he had learned was in his possession. for his two companions the count chose his faithful friend florismart and his cousin oliver. the three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind, the second morning showed them, on their right, the island where this important battle was to be fought. orlando and his two companions, having landed, pitched their tent. agramant had placed his opposite. next morning, as soon as aurora brightened the edges of the horizon, the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mounted their horses. they took their positions, face to face, lowered their lances, placed them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses, and flew to the charge. orlando met the charge of gradasso. the paladin was unmoved, but his horse could not sustain the terrible shock of bayard. he recoiled, staggered, and fell some paces behind. orlando tried to raise him, but, finding his efforts unavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous balisardo. meanwhile agramant and the brave oliver gained no advantage, one or the other; but florismart unhorsed the king sobrino. having brought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory, but hastened to attack gradasso, who had overthrown orlando. seeing him thus engaged, orlando would not interfere, but ran with sword upraised upon sobrino, and with one blow deprived him of sense and motion. believing him dead, he next turned to aid his beloved florismart. that brave paladin, neither in horse nor arms equal to his antagonist, could but parry and evade the blows of the terrible durindana. orlando, eager to succor him, was delayed for a moment in securing and mounting the horse of the king sobrino. it was but an instant, and with sword upraised, he rushed upon gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset of this second foe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his sword, but, having miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him, and failed to pierce his mail. orlando, in return, dealt him a blow with balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh, and, if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him in twain. sobrino, by this time recovered from his swoon, though severely wounded, raised himself on his legs, and looked to see how he might aid his friends. observing agramant hard pressed by oliver, he thrust his sword into the bowels of the latter's horse, which fell, and bore down his master, entangling his leg as he fell, so that oliver could not extricate himself. florismart saw the danger of his friend, and ran upon sobrino with his horse, overthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from agramant. they were not unequally matched, for though agramant, mounted on brigliadoro, had an advantage over florismart, whose horse was but indifferent, yet agramant had received a serious wound in his encounter with oliver. nothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between orlando and gradasso. durindana, in the hands of gradasso, clove asunder whatever it struck; but such was the skill of orlando, who perfectly knew the danger to which he was exposed from a stroke of that weapon, it had not yet struck him in such a way as to inflict a wound. meanwhile, gradasso was bleeding from many wounds, and his rage and incaution increased every moment. in his desperation he lifted durindana with both hands, and struck so terrible a blow full on the helmet of orlando, that for a moment it stunned the paladin. he dropped the reins, and his frightened horse scoured with him over the plain. gradasso turned to pursue him, but at that moment saw florismart in the very act of striking a fatal blow at agramant, whom he had unhorsed. while florismart was wholly intent upon completing his victory, gradasso plunged his sword into his side. florismart fell from his horse, and bathed the plain with his blood. orlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. whether rage or grief predominated in his breast, i cannot tell; but, seizing balisardo with fury, his first blow fell upon agramant, who was nearest to him, and smote his head from his shoulders. at this sight gradasso for the first time felt his courage sink, and a dark presentiment of death came over him. he hardly stood on his defence when orlando cast himself upon him, and gave him a fatal thrust. the sword penetrated his ribs, and came out a palm's breadth on the other side of his body. thus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin of france the bravest warrior of the saracen host. orlando then, as if despising his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran to his dear friend florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with his tears. florismart still breathed. he could even command his voice to utter a few parting words: "dear friend, do not forget me,-- give me your prayers,--and oh! be a brother to flordelis." he died in uttering her name. after a few moments given to grief orlando turned to look for his other companion and his late foes. oliver lay oppressed with the weight of his horse, from which he had in vain struggled to liberate himself. orlando extricated him with difficulty; he then raised sobrino from the earth, and committed him to his squire, treating him as gently as if he had been his own brother. for this terrible warrior was the most generous of men to a fallen foe. he took bayard and brigliadoro, with the arms of the conquered knights; their bodies and their other spoils he remitted to their attendants. but who can tell the grief of flordelis when she saw the warriors return, and found not florismart as usual after absence hasten to her side. she knew by the aspect of the others that her lord was slain. at the thought, and before the question could pass her lips, she fell senseless upon the ground. when life returned, and she learned the truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraided herself that she had let him depart without her. "i might have saved him by a single cry when his enemy dealt him that treacherous blow, or i might have thrown myself between and given my worthless life for his. or if no more, i might have heard his last words, i might have given him a last kiss." so she lamented, and could not be comforted. rogero and bradamante after the interruption of the combat with rinaldo, as we have related, rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. the terms of the treaty required him to abandon agramant, who had broken it, and to transfer his allegiance to charlemagne; and his love for bradamante called him in the same direction; but unwillingness to desert his prince and leader in the hour of distress forbade this course. embarking, therefore, for africa, he took his way to rejoin the saracen army; but was arrested midway by a storm which drove the vessel on a rock. the crew took to their boat, but that was quickly swamped in the waves, and rogero with the rest were compelled to swim for their lives. then while buffeting the waves rogero bethought him of his sin in so long delaying his christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, if he should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to be baptized. his vows were heard and answered; he succeeded in reaching the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by a pious hermit, whose cell overlooked the sea. from him he received baptism, having first passed some days with him, partaking his humble fare, and receiving instruction in the doctrines of the christian faith. while these things were going on, rinaldo, who had set out on his way to seek gradasso and recover bayard from him, hearing on his way of the great things which were doing in africa, repaired thither to bear his part in them. he arrived too late to do more than join his friends in lamenting the loss of florismart, and to rejoice with them in their victory over the pagan knights. on the death of their king the africans gave up the contest, biserta submitted, and the christian knights had only to dismiss their forces, and return home. astolpho took leave of his abyssinian army, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own country, not forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the winds, by means of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert again without danger, and did not untie it till they reached their own country. orlando now, with oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, and sobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swift vessel to sicily, bearing with him the body of florismart, to be laid in christian earth. rinaldo accompanied them, as did sansonnet and the other christian leaders. arrived at sicily, the funeral was solemnized with all the rites of religion, and with the profound grief of those who had known florismart, or had heard of his fame. then they resumed their course, steering for marseilles. but oliver's wound grew worse instead of better, and his sufferings so distressed his friends that they conferred together, not knowing what to do. then said the pilot, "we are not far from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the midst of the sea. it is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain. he hath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy man without doubt he can heal the knight." orlando bade him steer thither, and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock; the wounded man was lowered into their boat, and carried by the crew to the hermit's cell. it was the same hermit with whom rogero had taken refuge after his shipwreck, by whom he had been baptized, and with whom he was now staying, absorbed in sacred studies and meditations. the holy man received orlando and the rest with kindness, and inquired their errand; and being told that they had come for help for one who, warring for the christian faith, was brought to perilous pass by a sad wound, he straightway undertook the cure. his applications were simple, but they were seconded by his prayers. the paladin was soon relieved from pain, and in a few days his foot was perfectly restored to soundness. sobrino, as soon as he perceived the holy monk perform that wonder, cast aside his false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the true god, and demanded baptism at his hands. the hermit granted his request, and also by his prayers restored him to health, while all the christian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as at the restoration of oliver. more than all rogero felt joy and gratitude, and daily grew in grace and faith. rogero was known by fame to all the christian knights, but not even rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowess in combat. sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joy of all when they found one whose valor and courtesy were renowned through the world no longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convert and champion of the true faith. all press about the knight; one grasps his hand, another locks him fast in his embrace; but more than all the rest, rinaldo cherished him, for he more than any knew his worth. it was not long before rogero confided to his friend the hopes he entertained of a union with his sister, and rinaldo frankly gave his sanction to the proposal. but causes unknown to the paladin were at that very time interposing obstacles to its success. the fame of the beauty and worth of bradamante had reached the ears of the grecian emperor, constantine, and he had sent to charlemagne to demand the hand of his niece for leo, his son, and the heir to his dominions. duke aymon, her father, had only reserved his consent until he should first have spoken with his son rinaldo, now absent. the warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. rogero took a tender farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the true faith. orlando restored to him the horse and arms which were rightly his, not even asserting his claim to balisarda, that sword which he himself had won from the enchantress. the hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. the passage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor of marseilles. astolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted the hippogriff, and at one flight shot over to sardinia, thence to corsica, thence, turning slightly to the left, hovered over provence, and alighted in the neighborhood of marseilles. there he did what he had been commanded to do by the holy saint; he unbridled the hippogriff, and turned him loose to seek his own retreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit. the horn had lost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon. astolpho reached marseilles the very day when orlando, rinaldo, oliver, sobrino, and rogero arrived there. charles had already heard the news of the defeat of the saracen kings, and all the accompanying events. on learning the approach of the gallant knights, he sent forward some of his most illustrious nobles to receive them, and himself, with the rest of his court, kings, dukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and gorgeous band of ladies, set forward from arles to meet them. no sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than orlando and his friends led forward rogero, and presented him to the emperor. they vouch him son of rogero, duke of risa, one of the most renowned of christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in his infancy, and brought up by saracens in the false faith, now by a kind providence converted, and restored to fill the place his father once held among the foremost champions of the throne and church. rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before the emperor. charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and omitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial train. with pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop returned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands, the houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rain upon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels, from every balcony and window. so welcomed, the mighty emperor passed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days he feasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance, and song. when rinaldo told his father, duke aymon, how he had promised his sister to rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having set his heart on seeing her united to the grecian emperor's son. the lady beatrice, her mother, also appealed to bradamante herself to reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the preference to one who would make her empress of the wide levant. but bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother's entreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, and answered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave a loose to tears. meanwhile rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob him of his bride, determined to seek the prince of greece, and defy him to mortal combat. with this design he donned his armor, but exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white unicorn upon a crimson field. he chose a trusty squire, and, commanding him not to address him as rogero, rode on his quest. having crossed the rhine and the austrian countries into hungary, he followed the course of the danube till he reached belgrade. there he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions, thronged with troops, before the town. for the emperor constantine was laying siege to the city to recover it from the bulgarians, who had taken it from him not long before. a river flowed between the camp of the emperor and the bulgarians, and at the moment when rogero approached, a skirmish had begun between the parties from either camp, who had approached the stream for the purpose of watering. the greeks in that affray were four to one, and drove back the bulgarians in precipitate rout. rogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of the grecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, calling aloud on the fugitives to turn. he encountered first a leader of the grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the emperor, as dear to him as a son. rogero's lance pierced shield and armor, and stretched the warrior breathless on the plain. another and another fell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advance of the greeks, while the bulgarians, catching courage from the cavalier, rally, change front, and chase the grecian troops, who fly in their turn. leo, the prince, was at a distance when this sudden skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could see distinctly, from an elevated position which he held, how the changed battle was all the work of one man, and could not choose but admire the bravery and prowess with which it was done. he knew by the blazonry displayed that the champion was not of the bulgarian army, though he furnished aid to them. although he suffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him ill, for his admiration surpassed his resentment. by this time the greeks had regained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming, some made their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of the bulgarians. rogero, learning from some of the captives that leo was at a point some distance down the river, rode thither with a view to meet him, but arrived not before the greek prince had retired beyond the stream, and broken up the bridge. day was spent, and rogero, wearied, looked round for a shelter for the night. he found it in a cottage, where he soon yielded himself to repose. it so happened, a knight who had narrowly escaped rogero's sword in the late battle also found shelter in the same cottage, and, recognizing the armor of the unknown knight, easily found means of securing him as he slept, and next morning carried him in chains and delivered him to the emperor. by him he was in turn delivered to his sister theodora, mother of the young knight, the first victim of rogero's spear. by her he was cast into a dungeon, till her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful to satiate her revenge. bradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother's importunity, had begged a boon of charlemagne, which the monarch pledged his royal word to grant; it was that she should not be compelled to marry any one unless he should first vanquish her in single combat. the emperor therefore proclaimed a tournament in these words: "he that would wed duke aymon's daughter must contend with the sword against that dame, from the sun's rise to his setting; and if, in that time, he is not overcome the lady shall be his." duke aymon and the lady beatrice, though much incensed at the course things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to await the day appointed for the tournament. bradamante, not finding there him whom her heart required, distressed herself with doubts what could be the cause of his absence. of all fancies, the most painful one was that he had gone away to learn to forget her, knowing her father's and her mother's opposition to their union, and despairing to contend against them. but oh, how much worse would be the maiden's woe, if it were known to her what her betrothed was then enduring! he was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight ever penetrated, loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with the coarsest food. no wonder despair took possession of his heart, and he longed for death as a relief, when one night (or one day, for both were equally dark to him) he was roused with the glare of a torch and saw two men enter his cell. it was the prince leo, with an attendant, who had come as soon as he had learned the wretched fate of the brave knight whose valor he had seen and admired on the field of battle. "cavalier," said he, "i am one whom thy valor hath so bound to thee, that i willingly peril my own safety to lend thee aid." "infinite thanks i owe you," replied rogero, "and the life you give me i promise faithfully to render back upon your call, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service." the prince then told rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tide of contending emotions almost overwhelmed rogero. he was set at liberty, and had his horse and arms restored to him. meanwhile, tidings arrived of king charles' decree that whoever aspired to the hand of bradamante must first encounter her with sword and lance. this news made the grecian prince turn pale, for he knew he was no match for her in fight. communing with himself, he sees how he may make his wit supply the place of valor, and employ the french knight, whose name was still unknown to him, to fight the battle for him. rogero heard the proposal with extreme distress; yet it seemed worse than death to deny the first request of one to whom he owed his life. hastily he gave his assent "to do in all things that which leo should command." afterward, bitter repentance came over him; yet, rather than confess his change of mind, death itself would be welcome. death seems his only remedy; but how to die? sometimes he thinks to make none but a feigned resistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never can death come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. yet this will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the greek prince, his debt remains unpaid. he had promised to maintain a real, not a feigned encounter. he will then keep his word, and banish every thought from his bosom except that which moved him to maintain his truth. the young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him rogero. they arrived at paris, but leo preferred not to enter the city, and pitched his tents without the walls, making known his arrival to charlemagne by an embassy. the monarch was pleased, and testified his courtesy by visits and gifts. the prince set forth the purpose of his coming, and prayed the emperor to dispatch his suit--"to send forth the damsel who refused ever to take in wedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight; for she should be his bride, or he would perish beneath her sword." rogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battle like that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit of his life on the ensuing day. he chose to fight with sword only, and on foot, for he would not let her see frontino, knowing that she would recognize the steed. nor would he use balisarda, for against that enchanted blade all armor would be of no avail, and the sword that he did take he hammered well upon the edge to abate its sharpness. he wore the surcoat of prince leo, and his shield, emblazoned with a golden, double-headed eagle. the prince took care to let himself be seen by none. bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far differently. instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she whets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity. as the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins, and waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. at the signal she drew her sword, and fell with fury upon her rogero. but as a well- built wall or aged rock stands unmoved the fury of the storm, so rogero, clad in those arms which trojan hector once wore, withstood the strokes which stormed about his head and breast and flank. sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his cuirass; from direct and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling thick and fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but rogero, with skilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armor is a sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with no thought of striking in return. thus the hours passed away, and, as the sun approached the west, the damsel began to despair. but so much the more her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts, like the craftsman who sees his work unfinished while the day is wellnigh spent. o miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thou wouldst kill,--if, in that cavalier matched against thee thou didst but know rogero, on whom thy very life-threads hang, rather than kill him thou wouldst kill thyself, for he is dearer to thee than life. king charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be the grecian prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and how without assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filled with admiration, and declared the champions well matched, and worthy of each other. when the sun was set charlemagne gave the signal for terminating the contest, and bradamante was awarded to prince leo as a bride. rogero, in deep distress, returned to his tent. there leo unlaced his helmet, and kissed him on both cheeks. "henceforth," said he, "do with me as you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude." rogero replied little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, and resumed the unicorn, then hasted to withdraw himself from all eyes. when it was midnight he rose, saddled frontino, and sallied from his tent, taking that direction which pleased his steed. all night he rode absorbed in bitter woe, and called on death as alone capable of relieving his sufferings. at last he entered a forest, and penetrated into its deepest recesses. there he unharnessed frontino, and suffered him to wander where he would. then he threw himself down on the ground, and poured forth such bitter wailings that the birds and beasts, for none else heard him, were moved to pity with his cries. not less was the distress of the lady bradamante, who, rather than wed any one but rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy kindred, court, and charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else would do, to die. but relief came from an unexpected quarter. marphisa, sister of rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equal to bradamante. she had been the confidante of their loves, and felt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perils which threatened their union. "they are already united by mutual vows," she said, "and in the sight of heaven what more is necessary?" full of this thought she presented herself before charlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the maiden had spoken to rogero those words which they who marry swear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair that they were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to take another spouse. this her assertion she offered to prove, in single combat, against prince leo, or any one else. charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded bradamante to be called, and told her what the bold marphisa had declared. bradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung her head, and kept silence. duke aymon was enraged, and would fain have set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if made at all, it must have been made before rogero was baptized, and therefore void. but not so thought rinaldo, nor the good orlando, and charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when marphisa spoke thus: "since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives, let the prince meet rogero in mortal combat, and let him who survives take her for his bride." this saying pleased the emperor, and was accepted by the prince, for he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should surely triumph in the fight. proclamation was therefore made for rogero to appear and defend his suit; and leo, on his part, caused search to be made on all sides for the knight of the unicorn. meanwhile rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the ground in the forest night and day without food, courting death. here he was discovered by one of leo's people, who, finding him resist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who was not far off, and brought him to the spot. as he approached he heard words which convinced him that love was the cause of the knight's despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the object of that love. stooping down, the prince embraced the weeping warrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said: "spare not, i entreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few such desperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. it grieves me much that you would hide your grief from me, for i am bound to you by ties that nothing can undo. tell me, then, your grief, and leave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion cannot relieve you. if not, it will be time enough after all has been tried in vain to die." he spoke in such moving accents that rogero could not choose but yield. it was some time before he could command utterance; at last he said, "my lord, when you shall know me for what i am, i doubt not you, like myself, will be content that i should die. know, then, i am that rogero whom you have so much cause to hate, and who so hated you that, intent on putting you to death, he went to seek you at your father's court. this i did because i could not submit to see my promised bride borne off by you. but, as man proposes and god disposes, your great courtesy, well tried in time of sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that i not only laid aside the hate i bore, but purposed to be your friend forever. you then asked of me to win for you the lady bradamante, which was all one as to demand of me my heart and soul. you know whether i served you faithfully or not. yours is the lady; possess her in peace; but ask me not to live to see it. be content rather that i die; for vows have passed between myself and her which forbid that while i live she can lawfully wive with another." so filled was gentle leo with astonishment at these words that for a while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze, like a statue. and the discovery that the stranger was rogero not only abated not the good will he bore him, but increased it, so that his distress for what rogero suffered seemed equal to his own. for this, and because he would appear deservedly an emperor's son, and, though in other things outdone, would not be surpassed in courtesy, he says: "rogero, had i known that day when your matchless valor routed my troops that you were rogero, your virtue would have made me your own, as then it made me while i knew not my foe, and i should have no less gladly rescued you from theodora's dungeon. and if i would willingly have done so then, how much more gladly will i now restore the gift of which you would rob yourself to confer it upon me. the damsel is more due to you than to me, and though i know her worth, i would forego not only her, but life itself, rather than distress a knight like you." this and much more he said to the same intent; till at last rogero replied, "i yield, and am content to live, and thus a second time owe my life to you." but several days elapsed before rogero was so far restored as to return to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived from the bulgarian princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, and tender to him the crown of that country, in place of their king, fallen in battle. thus were things situated when prince leo, leading by the hand rogero, clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained the conflict with bradamante, presented himself before the king. "behold," he said "the champion who maintained from dawn to setting sun the arduous contest; he comes to claim the guerdon of the fight." king charlemagne, with all his peerage, stood amazed; for all believed that the grecian prince himself had fought with bradamante. then stepped forth marphisa, and said, "since rogero is not here to assert his rights, i, his sister, undertake his cause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare dispute his claim." she said this with so much anger and disdain that the prince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew rogero's helmet from his brow, saying, "behold him here!" who can describe the astonishment and joy of marphisa! she ran and threw her arms about her brother's neck, nor would give way to let charlemagne and rinaldo, orlando, dudon, and the rest, who crowded round, embrace him, and press friendly kisses on his brow. the joyful tidings flew fast by many a messenger to bradamante, who in her secret chamber lay lamenting. the blood that stagnated about her heart flowed at that notice so fast, that she had wellnigh died for joy. duke aymon and the lady beatrice no longer withheld their consent, and pledged their daughter to the brave rogero before all that gallant company. now came the bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet of rogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where, in adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance. prince leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in his royal father's name, that peace should be restored on their part. rogero gave his consent, and it was surmised that none of the virtues which shone so conspicuously in him so availed to recommend rogero to the lady beatrice as the hearing her future son-in-law saluted as a sovereign prince. the battle of roncesvalles after the expulsion of the saracens from france charlemagne led his army into spain, to punish marsilius, the king of that country, for having sided with the african saracens in the late war. charlemagne succeeded in all his attempts, and compelled marsilius to submit, and pay tribute to france. our readers will remember gano, otherwise called gan, or ganelon, whom we mentioned in one of our early chapters as an old courtier of charlemagne, and a deadly enemy of orlando, rinaldo, and all their friends. he had great influence over charles, from equality of age and long intimacy; and he was not without good qualities: he was brave and sagacious, but envious, false, and treacherous. gan prevailed on charles to send him as ambassador to marsilius, to arrange the tribute. he embraced orlando over and over again at taking leave, using such pains to seem loving and sincere, that his hypocrisy was manifest to every one but the old monarch. he fastened with equal tenderness on oliver, who smiled contemptuously in his face, and thought to himself, "you may make as many fair speeches as you choose, but you lie." all the other paladins who were present thought the same, and they said as much to the emperor, adding that gan should on no account be sent ambassador to the spaniards. but charles was infatuated. gan was received with great honor by marsilius. the king, attended by his lords, came fifteen miles out of saragossa to meet him, and then conducted him into the city with acclamations. there was nothing for several days but balls, games, and exhibitions of chivalry, the ladies throwing flowers on the heads of the french knights, and the people shouting, "france! mountjoy and st. denis!" after the ceremonies of the first reception the king and the ambassador began to understand one another. one day they sat together in a garden on the border of a fountain. the water was so clear and smooth it reflected every object around, and the spot was encircled with fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air. as they sat and talked, as if without restraint, gan, without looking the king in the face, was enabled to see the expression of his countenance in the water, and governed his speech accordingly. marsilius was equally adroit, and watched the face of gan while he addressed him. marsilius began by lamenting, not as to the ambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries which charles had done him by invading his dominions, charging him with wishing to take his kingdom from him and give it to orlando; till at length he plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin were but dead good men would get their rights. gan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow the force of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long he lifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, and exclaimed: "every word you utter is truth; die he must, and die also must oliver, who struck me that foul blow at court. is it treachery to punish affronts like these? i have planned everything,--i have settled everything already with their besotted master. orlando will come to your borders--to roncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the tribute. charles will await him at the foot of the mountains. orlando will bring but a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will have secretly your whole army at your back. you surround him, and who receives tribute then?" the new judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultation was interrupted by a change in the face of nature. the sky was suddenly overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel was split in two from head to foot, and the carob-tree under which gan was sitting, which is said to be the species of tree on which judas iscariot hung himself, dropped one of its pods on his head. marsilius, as well as gan, was appalled at this omen; but on assembling his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that the laurel-tree turned the omen against the emperor, the successor of the caesars, though one of them renewed the consternation of gan by saying that he did not understand the meaning of the tree of judas, and intimating that perhaps the ambassador could explain it. gan relieved his vexation by anger; the habit of wickedness prevailed over all other considerations; and the king prepared to march to roncesvalles at the head of all his forces. gan wrote to charlemagne to say how humbly and submissively marsilius was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of orlando, and how handsome it would be of the emperor to meet him half-way, and so be ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. he added a brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanying presents. the good emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he was with the ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arranged precisely as he wished. his court, however, had its suspicion still, though they little thought gan's object in bringing charles into the neighborhood of roncesvalles was to deliver him into the hands of marsilius, after orlando should have been destroyed by him. orlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. he went to roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, not dreaming of the atrocity that awaited him. gan, meanwhile, had hastened back to france, in order to show himself free and easy in the presence of charles, and secure the success of his plot; while marsilius, to make assurance doubly sure, brought into the passes of roncesvalles no less than three armies, which were successively to fall on the paladin in case of the worst, and so extinguish him with numbers. he had also, by gan's advice, brought heaps of wine and good cheer to be set before his victims in the first instance; "for that," said the traitor, "will render the onset the more effective, the feasters being unarmed. one thing, however, i must not forget," added he; "my son baldwin is sure to be with orlando; you must take care of his life for my sake." "i give him this vesture off my own body," said the king; "let him wear it in the battle, and have no fear. my soldiers shall be directed not to touch him." gan went away rejoicing to france. he embraced the sovereign and the court all round with the air of a man who had brought them nothing but blessings, and the old king wept for very tenderness and delight. "something is going on wrong, and looks very black," thought malagigi, the good wizard; "rinaldo is not here, and it is indispensably necessary that he should be. i must find out where he is, and ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed." malagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit, named ashtaroth. "tell me, and tell me truly, of rinaldo," said malagigi to the spirit. the demon looked hard at the paladin, and said nothing. his aspect was clouded and violent. the enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade ashtaroth lay down that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angrier compulsion; and the devil, alarmed, loosened his tongue, and said, "you have not told me what you desire to know of rinaldo." "i desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is." "he has been conquering and baptizing the world, east and west," said the demon, "and is now in egypt with ricciardetto." "and what has gan been plotting with marsilius?" inquired malagigi; "and what is to come of it?" "i know not," said the devil. "i was not attending to gan at the time, and we fallen spirits know not the future. all i discern is that by the signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful is about to happen--something very strange, treacherous, and bloody; and that gan has a seat ready prepared for him in hell." "within three days," cried the enchanter, loudly, "bring rinaldo and ricciardetto into the pass of ronces-valles. do it, and i hereby undertake to summon thee no more." "suppose they will not trust themselves with me?" said the spirit. "enter rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or not." "it shall be done," returned the demon. there was an earthquake, and ashtaroth disappeared. marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of orlando, by sending before him his vassal, king blanchardin, with his presents of wines and other luxuries. the temperate but courteous hero took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and then blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute charlemagne, returned, and put himself at the head of the second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege- lord. king falseron, whose son orlando had slain in battle, headed the first army, and king balugante the third. marsilius made a speech to them, in which he let them into his design, and concluded by recommending to their good will the son of his friend gan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who was the only soul amongst the christian they were to spare. this son of gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who distrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be with orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the little christian host, considering the tremendous valor of their lord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing. rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt of christendom, was destined not to be there in time to meet the issue. the paladins in vain begged orlando to be on his guard against treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. the great heart of the champion of the faith was unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as he could help it. he refused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would he do anything but what his liege-lord had directed. and yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. a shadow had fallen on his heart, great and cheerful as it was. the anticipations of his friends disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. perhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression. besides, time pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand, and little combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events. king marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the spanish court in the distance. he rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it beheld the first army of marsilius already forming in the passes. "o devil gan," he exclaimed, "this then is the consummation of thy labors!" oliver put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to orlando. "well," cried the hero, "what news?" "bad news," said his cousin, "such as you would not hear of yesterday. marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is with him." the paladins pressed round orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn, in token that he needed help. his only answer was to mount his horse, and ride up the mountain with sansonetto. as soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what was round about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into roncesvalles, and said, "o miserable valley! the blood shed in thee this day will color thy name forever." orlando's little camp were furious against the saracens. they armed themselves with the greatest impatience. there was nothing but lacing of helmets and mounting of horses, while good archbishop turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging the warriors of christ. orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. he fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say, so wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in roncesvalles. then he said: "if it had entered into my heart to conceive the king of spain to be such a villain never would you have seen this day. he has exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and i thought that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had become now. i fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can never forgive their very forgivers; and of these i did not suppose him to be one. let us die, if die we must, like honest and gallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies that died. the reason why i did not sound the horn was partly because i thought it did not become us, and partly because our liege lord could hardly save us, even if he heard it." and with these words orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "aways against the saracens!" but he had no sooner turned his face than he wept bitterly, and said, "o holy virgin, think not of me, the sinner orlando, but have pity on these thy servants!" and now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns and tambours, which came filling the valley, the first army of the infidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand pennons flying in the air. king falseron led them on, saying to his officers: "let nobody dare to lay a finger on orlando. he belongs to myself. the revenge of my son's death is mine. i will cut the man down that comes between us." "now, friends," said orlando, "every man for himself, and st. michael for us all! there is not one here that is not a perfect knight." and he might well say it, for the flower of all france was there, except rinaldo and ricciardetto--every man a picked man, all friends and constant companions of orlando. so the captains of the little troop and of the great army sat looking at one another, and singling one another out as the latter came on, and then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for a while two and two in succession, one against the other. astolpho was the first to move. he ran against arlotto of sorio, and thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul into the other world. oliver encountered malprimo, and, though he received a thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of malprimo. falseron was daunted at this blow. "truly," thought he, "this is a marvel." oliver did not press on among the saracens, his wound was too painful; but orlando now put himself and his whole band in motion, and you may guess what an uproar ensued. the sound of the rattling of blows and helmets was as if the forge of vulcan had been thrown open. falseron beheld orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than when he purposed to have him all to himself. on the contrary, he recommended himself to his gods, and turned away, meaning to wait for a more auspicious season of revenge. but orlando hailed him with a terrible voice, saying, "o thou traitor! was this the end to which old quarrels were made up?" then he dashed at falseron with a fury so swift, and at the same time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that, though he plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill him, and then withdrew it, the body did not move in the saddle. the hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end of a stroke so perfect, and turning his horse back, touched the carcass with his sword, and it fell on the instant! when the infidels beheld their leader dead such fear fell upon them that they were for leaving the field to the paladins, but they were unable. marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. orlando rode into the thick of them, and wherever he went thunderbolts fell upon helmets. oliver was again in the fray, with walter and baldwin, avino and avolio, while arch-bishop turpin had changed his crosier for a lance, and chased a new flock before him to the mountains. yet what could be done against foes without number? marsilius constantly pours them in. the paladins are as units to thousands. why tarry the horses of rinaldo and ricciardetto? the horses did not tarry, but fate had been quicker than enchantment. ashtaroth had presented himself to rinaldo in egypt, and, after telling his errand, he and foul-mouth, his servant, entered the horses of rinaldo and ricciardetto, which began to neigh, and snort, and leap with the fiends within them, till off they flew through the air over the pyramids and across the desert, and reached spain and the scene of action just as marsilius brought up his third army. the two paladins on their horses dropped right into the midst of the saracens, and began making such havoc among them that marsilius, who overlooked the fight from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against one another. orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other but his cousins, and pressed to meet them. oliver coming up at the same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed. after a few hasty words of explanation they were forced to turn again upon the enemy, whose numbers seemed perfectly without limit. orlando, making a bloody passage towards marsilius, struck a youth on the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, but at the same time flew off, orlando prepared to strike a second blow, when the youth exclaimed, "hold! you loved my father; i am bujaforte!" the paladin had never seen bujaforte, but he saw the likeness to the good old man, his father, and he dropped his sword. "o bujaforte," said he, "i loved him indeed; but what does his son do here fighting against his friends?" bujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. at length he said: "i am forced to be here by my lord and master, marsilius; and i have made a show of fighting, but have not hurt a single christian. treachery is on every side of you. baldwin himself has a vest given him by marsilius, that everybody may know the son of his friend gan, and do him no harm." "put your helmet on again," said orlando, "and behave just as you have done. never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son." the hero then turned in fury to look for baldwin, who was hastening towards him at that moment, with friendliness in his looks. "'tis strange," said baldwin, "i have done my duty as well as i could, yet nobody will come against me. i have slain right and left, and cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest infidels avoid me." "take off your vest," said orlando, contemptuously, "and you will soon discover the secret, if you wish to know it. your father has sold us to marsilius, all but his honorable son." "if my father," said baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has been such a villain, and i escape dying, i will plunge this sword through his heart. but i am no traitor, orlando, and you do me wrong to say it. think not i can live with dishonor." baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another word from orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for he perceived that the youth was in despair. and now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twenty pagans went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell. sansonetto was beaten to earth by the club of grandonio, walter d'amulion had his shoulder broken, berlinghieri and ottone were slain, and at last astolpho fell, in revenge of whose death orlando turned the spot where he died into a lake of saracen blood. the luckless bujaforte met rinaldo, and before he could explain how he seemed to be fighting on the saracen side received such a blow upon the head that he fell, unable to utter a word. orlando, cutting his way to a spot where there was a great struggle and uproar, found the poor youth baldwin, the son of gan, with two spears in his breast. "i am no traitor now," said baldwin, and those were the last words he said. orlando was bitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tears streamed from his eyes. at length down went oliver himself. he had become blinded with his own blood, and smitten orlando without knowing him. "how now, cousin," cried orlando, "have you too gone over to the enemy?" "o my lord and master," cried the other, "i ask your pardon. i can see nothing; i am dying. some traitor has stabbed me in the back. if you love me, lead my horse into the thick of them, so that i may not die unavenged." "i shall die myself before long," said orlando, "out of very toil and grief; so we will go together." orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and dreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tired companion. they made a street through which they passed out of the battle, and orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "wait a little till i return, for i will go and sound the horn on the hill yonder." "'tis of no use," said oliver, "my spirit is fast going and desires to be with its lord and saviour." he would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly, like those of a man in a dream, and so he expired. when orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth, and he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that king charles, at the foot of the mountains, should know how the case stood before he went. so he took up the horn and blew it three times, with such force that the blood burst out of his nose and mouth. turpin says that at the third blast the horn broke in two. in spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn broke over it like a voice out of the other world. they say that birds fell dead at it, and that the whole saracen army drew back in terror. charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court when the sound reached him, and gan was there. the emperor was the first to hear it. "do you hear that?" said he to his nobles. "did you hear the horn as i heard it?" upon this they all listened, and gan felt his heart misgive him. the horn sounded a second time. "what is the meaning of this?" said charles. "orlando is hunting," observed gan, "and the stag is killed." but when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one of so dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, and then they all looked at gan in a fury. charles rose from his seat. "this is no hunting of the stag," said he. "the sound goes to my very heart. o gan! o gan! not for thee do i blush, but for myself. o foul and monstrous villain! take him, gentleman, and keep him in close prison. would to god i had not lived to see this day!" but it was no time for words. they put the traitor in prison and then charles, with all his court, took his way to roncesvalles, grieving and praying. it was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when the emperor set out; and meantime orlando had returned to the fight that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit his horse. at length he found his end approaching, for toil and fever, and rode all alone to a fountain where he had before quenched his thirst. his horse was wearier than he, and no sooner had his master alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to say, "i have brought you to a place of rest," fell dead at his feet. orlando cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him dead; but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he had been a human being, and addressed him by name with tears, and asked forgiveness if he had ever done him wrong. they say that the horse, at these words, opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master, and then stirred never more. they say also that orlando then summoning all his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword durindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split like a slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured. and now rinaldo and ricciardetto came up, with turpin, having driven back the saracens, and told orlando that the battle was won. then orlando knelt before turpin and begged remission of his sins, and turpin gave him absolution. orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he raised his eyes and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul. and now king charles and his nobles came up. the emperor, at sight of the dead orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless youth, from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said: "i bless thee, orlando; i bless thy whole life, and all that thou wast, and all that thou ever didst, and the father that begat thee; and i ask pardon of thee for believing those who brought thee to thine end. they shall have their reward, o thou beloved one! but indeed it is thou that livest, and i who am worse than dead." horrible to the emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of roncesvalles. the saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his paladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked like a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and reeking to the heat. charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony. after gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it with a solemn curse, and wished that never grass might grow in it again, nor seed of any kind, neither within it nor on any of its mountains around, but the anger of heaven abide over it forever. charles and his warriors went after the saracens into spain. they took and fired saragossa, and marsilius was hung to the carob-tree under which he had planned his villainy with gan; and gan was hung and drawn and quartered in roncesvalles, amidst the execrations of the country. rinaldo and bayard charlemagne was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of his bravest warriors at the disaster of roncesvalles, and bitterly reproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so completely to the counsels of the treacherous count gan. yet he soon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son, charlot, to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantly led him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mind he would have scorned to commit. rinaldo and his brothers, for some slight offence to the imperious young prince, were forced to fly from paris, and to take shelter in their castle of montalban; for charles had publicly said, if he could take them he would hang them all. he sent numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them, but all without success. either rinaldo foiled their efforts and sent them back, stripped of their armor and of their glory, or, after meeting and conferring with him, they came back and told the king they could not be his instruments for such a work. at last charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to compel the paladin to submit. he ravaged all the country round about montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and he threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth, hoping to compel the garrison to submit for want of food. rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless to contend any longer. his brothers had been taken prisoners in a skirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making terms with the king. so he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle if the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. while the messenger was gone rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he might bring, rode out to meet him. when he had ridden as far as he thought prudent he stopped in a wood, and alighting, tied bayard to a tree. then he sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep. bayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed away where the grass tempted him. just then came along some country people, who said to one another, "look, is not that the great horse bayard that rinaldo rides? let us take him, and carry him to king charles, who will pay us well for our trouble." they did so, and the king was delighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made them rich to their dying day. when rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him not, he groaned, and said, "o unlucky hour that i was born! how fortune persecutes me!" so desperate was he that he took off his armor and his spurs, saying, "what need have i of these, since bayard is lost?" while he stood thus lamenting, a man came from the thicket, seemingly bent with age. he had a long beard hanging over his breast, and eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. he bade rinaldo good day. rinaldo thanked him, and said, "a good day i have hardly had since i was born." then said the old man, "signor rinaldo, you must not despair, for god will make all things turn to the best." rinaldo answered, "my trouble is too heavy for me to hope relief. the king has taken my brothers, and means to put them to death. i thought to rescue them by means of my horse bayard, but while i slept some thief has stolen him." the old man replied, "i will remember you and your brothers in my prayers. i am a poor man, have you not something to give me?" rinaldo said, "i have nothing to give," but then he recollected his spurs. he gave them to the beggar, and said, "here, take my spurs. they are the first present my mother gave me when my father, count aymon, dubbed me knight. they ought to bring you ten pounds." the old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said, "noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" rinaldo replied, "are you making sport of me? i tell you truly if it were not for shame to beat one so helpless, i would teach you better manners." the old man said, "of a truth, sir, if you did so you would do a great sin. if all had beaten me of whom i have begged i should have been killed long ago, for i ask alms in churches and convents, and wherever i can." "you say true," replied rinaldo, "if you did not ask, none would relieve you." the old man said, "true, noble sir, therefore i pray if you have anything more to spare, give it me." rinaldo gave him his mantle, and said, "take it, pilgrim. i give it you for the love of christ, that god would save my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape out of king charles's power." the pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his bag. then a third time he said to rinaldo, "sir, have you nothing left to give me that i may remember you in my prayers?" "wretch!" exclaimed rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew his sword, and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow with his staff, and said, "rinaldo, would you slay your cousin, malagigi?" when rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazed doubtingly on the old man, who now threw aside his disguise, and appeared to be indeed malagigi. "dear cousin," said rinaldo, "pray forgive me. i did not know you. next to god, my trust is in you. help my brothers to escape out of prison, i entreat you. i have lost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any assistance." malagigi answered, "cousin rinaldo, i will enable you to recover your horse. meanwhile, you must do as i say." then malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to rinaldo to put on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an old pair of shoes to put on. they looked like two pilgrims, very old and poor. then they went forth from the wood, and after a little while saw four monks riding along the road. malagigi said to rinaldo, "i will go meet the monks, and see what news i can learn." malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival there would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince was going to show the ladies the famous horse bayard that used to belong to rinaldo. "what!" said the pilgrim; "is bayard there?" "yes," answered the monks; "the king has given him to charlot, and, after the prince has ridden him the king means to pass sentence on the brothers of rinaldo, and have them hanged." then malagigi asked alms of the monks, but they would give him none, till he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them see his armor, when, partly for charity and partly for terror, they gave him a golden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in the sunshine. malagigi then hastened back to rinaldo, and told him what he had learned. the morning of the feast-day rinaldo and malagigi came to the place where the sports were to be held. malagigi gave rinaldo his spurs back again, and said, "cousin, put on your spurs, for you will need them." "how shall i need them," said rinaldo, "since i have lost my horse?" yet he did as malagigi directed him. when the two had taken their stand on the border of the field among the crowd the princes and ladies of the court began to assemble. when they were all assembled the king came also, and charlot with him, near whom the horse bayard was led, in the charge of grooms, who were expressly enjoined to guard him safely. the king, looking round on the circle of spectators, saw malagigi and rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup that they had, and said to charlot, "see, my son, what a brilliant cup those two pilgrims have got. it seems to be worth a hundred ducats." "that is true," said charlot; "let us go and ask where they got it." so they rode to the place where the pilgrims stood, and charlot stopped bayard close to them. the horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew rinaldo, and caressed his master. the king said to malagigi, "friend, where did you get that beautiful cup?" malagigi replied, "honorable sir, i paid for it all the money i have saved from eleven years' begging in churches and convents. the pope himself has blessed it, and given it the power that whosoever eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned of all his sins." then said the king to charlot, "my son, these are right holy men; see how the dumb beast worships them." then the king said to malagigi, "give me a morsel from your cup, that i may be cleared of my sins." malagigi answered, "illustrious lord, i dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at any time offended you. you know that christ forgave all those who had betrayed and crucified him." the king replied, "friend, that is true; but rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that i cannot forgive him, nor that other man, malagigi, the magician. these two shall never live in my kingdom again. if i catch them i will certainly have them hanged. but tell me, pilgrim, who is that man who stands beside you?" "he is deaf, dumb, and blind," said malagigi. then the king said again, "give me to drink of your cup, to take away my sins." malagigi answered, "my lord king, here is my poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard, spoken, nor seen. this misfortune befell him in a house where we found shelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman, who told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to some place where bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him; that would do him more good than anything else." then said the king, "friend, you have come to the right place, for bayard is to be ridden here to-day. give me a draught from your cup, and your companion shall ride upon bayard." malagigi, hearing these words, said, "be it so." then the king, with great devotion, took a spoon, and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing that his sins should be thereby forgiven. when this was done, the king said to charlot, "son, i request that you will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he can, for by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities." charlot replied, "that will i gladly do." so saying, he dismounted, and the servants took the pilgrim in their arms, and helped him on the horse. wher rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and said, "i would like to ride a little." malagigi, hearing him speak, seemed delighted, and asked him whether he could see and hear also. "yes," said rinaldo, "i am healed of all my infirmities." when the king heard it he said to bishop turpin, "my lord bishop, we must celebrate this with a procession, with crosses and banners, for it is a great miracle." when rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke to the horse, and touched him with the spurs. bayard knew that his master was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in a few moments was a good way off. malagigi pretended to be in great alarm. "o noble king and master," he cried, "my poor companion is run away with; he will fall and break his neck." the king ordered his knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring him back, or help him if need were. they did so, but it was in vain. rinaldo left them all behind him, and kept on his way till he reached montalban. malagigi was suffered to depart, unsuspected, and he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate of his comrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed to pieces. malagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returned to where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the brothers of rinaldo out of prison. he succeeded; and all three got safely to montalban, where rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his brothers and the recovery of bayard was more than tongue can tell. death of rinaldo the distress in rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severe every day, under the pressure of the siege. the garrison were forced to kill their horses, both to save the provision they would consume, and to make food of their flesh. at last all the horses were killed except bayard, and rinaldo said to his brothers, "bayard must die, for we have nothing else to eat." so they went to the stable and brought out bayard to kill him. but alardo said, "brother, let bayard live a little longer; who knows what god may do for us?" bayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man, and fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. when rinaldo saw the distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let him live. just at this time aya, rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of the emperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, to intercede for her sons. she fell on her knees before the king, and besought him that he would pardon rinaldo and his brothers: and all the peers and knights took her side, and entreated the king to grant her prayer. then said the king, "dear sister, you act the part of a good mother, and i respect your tender heart, and yield to your entreaties. i will spare your sons their lives if they submit implicitly to my will." when charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered in his ear. and the king turned to his sister and said, "charlot must have bayard, because i have given the horse to him. now go, my sister, and tell rinaldo what i have said." when the lady aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked god in her heart, and said, "worthy king and brother, i will do as you bid me." so she went into the castle, where her sons received her most joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king's offer. then alardo said, "brother, i would rather have the king's enmity than give bayard to charlot, for i believe he will kill him." likewise said all the brothers. when rinaldo heard them he said, "dear brothers, if we may win our forgiveness by giving up the horse, so be it. let us make our peace, for we cannot stand against the king's power." then he went to his mother, and told her they would give the horse to charlot, and more, too, if the king would pardon them, and forgive all that they had done against his crown and dignity. the lady returned to charles and told him the answer of her sons. when the peace was thus made between the king and the sons of aymon, the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing bayard with them, and, falling at the king's feet, begged his forgiveness. the king bade them rise, and received them into favor in the sight of all his noble knights and counsellors, to the great joy of all, especially of the lady aya, their mother. then rinaldo took the horse bayard, gave him to charlot, and said, "my lord and prince, this horse i give to you; do with him as to you seems good." charlot took him, as had been agreed on. then he made the servants take him to the bridge, and throw him into the water. bayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface again and swam, saw rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his old master, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding, and would say, "why did you treat me so?" when the prince saw that he said, "rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die." rinaldo replied, "my lord and prince, he is yours without dispute," and gave him to him. the prince then had a millstone tied to each foot, and two to his neck, and made them throw him again into the water. bayard struggled in the water, looked up to his master, threw off the stones, and came back to rinaldo. when alardo saw that, he said, "now must thou be disgraced forever, brother, if thou give up the horse again." but rinaldo answered, "brother, be still. shall i for the horse's life provoke the anger of the king again?" then alardo said, "ah, bayard! what a return do we make for all thy true love and service!" rinaldo gave the horse to the prince again, and said, "my lord, if the horse comes out again i cannot return him to you any more, for it wrings my heart too much." then chariot had bayard loaded with the stones as before, and thrown into the water; and commanded rinaldo that he should not stand where the horse would see him. when bayard rose to the surface he stretched his neck out of the water and looked round for his master, but saw him not. then he sunk to the bottom. rinaldo was so distressed for the loss of bayard that he made a vow to ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a sword to his side, but to become a hermit. he resolved to betake himself to some wild wood, but first to return to his castle, to see his children, and to appoint to each his share of his estate. so he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned to montalban, and his brothers remained with the king. rinaldo called his children to him, and he made his eldest born, aymeric, a knight, and made him lord of his castle and of his land. he gave to the rest what other goods he had, and kissed and embraced them all, commended them to god, and then departed from them with a heavy heart. he had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there met with a hermit, who had long been retired from the world. rinaldo greeted him, and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him who he was and what was his purpose. rinaldo replied, "sir, i have led a sinful life; many deeds of violence have i done, and many men have i slain, not always in a good cause, but often under the impulse of my own headstrong passions. i have also been the cause of the death of many of my friends, who took my part, not because they thought me in the right, but only for love of me. and now i come to make confession of all my sins, and to do penance for the rest of my life, if perhaps the mercy of god will forgive me." the hermit said, "friend, i perceive you have fallen into great sins, and have broken the commandments of god, but his mercy is greater than your sins; and if you repent from your heart, and lead a new life, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you what is past." so rinaldo was comforted, and said, "master, i will stay with you, and what you bid ane i will do." the hermit replied, "roots and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you may not wear; your lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me." rinaldo replied, "i will cheerfully bear all this, and more." so he remained three whole years with the hermit, and after that his strength failed, and it seemed as if he was like to die. one night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven, which commanded him to say to his companion that he must without delay go to the holy land, and fight against the heathen. the hermit, when he heard that voice, was glad, and calling rinaldo, he said, "friend, god's angel has commanded me to say to you that you must without delay go to jerusalem, and help our fellow- christians in their struggle with the infidels." then said rinaldo, "ah! master, how can i do that? it is over three years since i made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a sword or spear in my hand." the hermit answered, "dear friend, obey god, and do what the angel commanded." "i will do so," said rinaldo, "and pray for me, my master, that god may guide me right." then he departed, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came to tripoli in syria. and as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till it was equal to what it was in his best days. and though he never mounted a horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with his pilgrim's staff he did good service in the armies of the christians; and it pleased god that he escaped unhurt, though he was present in many battles, and his courage inspired the men with the same. at last a truce was made with the saracens, and rinaldo, now old and infirm, wishing to see his native land again before he died, took ship and sailed for france. when he arrived he shunned to go to the resorts of the great, and preferred to live among the humble folk, where he was unknown. he did country work, and lived on milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith content. while he so lived he heard that the city of cologne was the holiest and best of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of saints who had there poured out their blood for the faith. this induced him to betake himself thither. when the pious hero arrived at cologne he went to the monastery of st. peter, and lived a holy life, occupied night and day in devotion. it so happened that at that time in the next town to cologne there raged a dreadful pestilence. many people came to rinaldo, to beg him to pray for them, that the plague might be stayed. the holy man prayed fervently, and besought the lord to take away the plague from the people, and his prayer was heard. the stroke of the pestilence was arrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and praised god. now there was at this time at cologne a bishop, called agilolphus, who was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secluded life, and set a good example to others. this bishop undertook to build the church of st. peter, and gave notice to all stonemasons and other workmen round about to come to cologne, where they should find work and wages. among others came rinaldo; and he worked among the laborers and did more than four or five common workmen. when they went to dinner he brought stone and mortar so that they had enough for the whole day. when the others went to bed he stretched himself out on the stones. he ate bread only, and drank nothing but water; and had for his wages but a penny a day. the head workman asked him his name, and where he belonged. he would not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work. they called him st. peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his work. when the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid the laziness of the other workmen, and said, "you receive more pay than this good man, but do not do half as much work." for this reason the other workmen hated rinaldo, and made a secret agreement to kill him. they knew that he made it a practice to go every night to a certain church to pray and give alms. so they agreed to lay wait for him, with the purpose to kill him. when he came to the spot, they seized him, and beat him over the head till he was dead. then they put his body into a sack, and stones with it, and cast it into the rhine, in the hope the sack would sink to the bottom, and be there concealed. but god willed not that it should be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface, and be thrown upon the bank. and the soul of the holy martyr was carried by angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens. now at that time the people of dortmund had become converted to the christian faith; and they sent to the bishop of cologne, and desired him to give them some of the holy relics that are in such abundance in that city. so the bishop called together his clergy to deliberate what answer they should give to this request. and it was determined to give to the people of dortmund the body of the holy man who had just suffered martyrdom. when now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cart began to move toward dortmund without horses or help of men, and stopped not till it reached the place where the church of st. rinaldo now stands. the bishop and his clergy followed the holy man to do him honor, with singing of hymns, for a space of three miles. and st. rinaldo has ever since been the patron of that place, and many wonderful works has god done through him, as may be seen in the legends. huon of bordeaux when charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government become heavier year by year, till at last he called together his high barons and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throne of france in favor of his sons, charlot and lewis. the emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he would have been glad to have had the barons and peers demand charlot for their only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for his falsehood and cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed the emperor's proposal of abdicating, and implored him to continue to hold a sceptre which he wielded with so much glory. amaury of hauteville, cousin of ganelon, and now head of the wicked branch of the house of maganza, was the secret partisan of charlot, whom he resembled in his loose morals and bad dispositions. amaury nourished the most bitter resentment against the house of guienne, of which the former duke, sevinus, had often rebuked his misdeeds. he took advantage of this occasion to do an injury to the two young children whom the duke sevinus had left under the charge of the duchess alice, their mother; and at the same time, to advance his interest with charlot by increasing his wealth and power. with this view he suggested to the prince a new idea. he pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said that it would be best to try charlot's capacity for government by giving him some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne; and that the emperor, without depriving himself of any part of his realm, might give charlot the investiture of guienne. for although seven years had passed since the death of sevinus, the young duke, his son, had not yet repaired to the court of charlemagne to render the homage due to his lawful sovereign. we have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of the advice which on all occasions the duke namo of bavaria gave to charlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, the selfish advice of amaury. he represented to the emperor the early age of the children of sevinus, and the useful and glorious services of their late father, and proposed to charlemagne to send two knights to the duchess at bordeaux, to summon her two sons to the court of the emperor, to pay their respects and render homage. charlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers to demand the two young princes of their mother. no sooner had the duchess learned the approach of the two knights, than she sent distinguished persons to receive them; and as soon as they entered the palace she presented herself before them, with her elder and younger sons, huon and girard. the deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses they received, accompanied with rich presents, left bordeaux with regret and on their return represented to charlemagne that the young duke huon seemed born to tread in the footsteps of his brave father, informing him that in three months the young princes of guienne would present themselves at his court. the duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons her last instructions. huon received them in his heart, and girard gave as much heed to them as could be expected from one so young. the preparations for their departure having been made, the duchess embraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of heaven, and charged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery of cluny, to visit the abbot, the brother of their father. this abbot, worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunity of doing good, setting an example of every excellence, and making virtue attractive by his example. he received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, aware how useful his presence might be to them with charlemagne, whose valued counsellor he was, he took with them the road to paris. when amaury learned what reception the two deputies of charlemagne had received at bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visit of the young princes to the emperor's court, he suggested to charlot to give him a troop of his guards, with which he proposed to lay wait for the young men in the wood of montlery, put them to death, and thereby give the prince charlot possession of the duchy of guienne. a plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well with charlot's disposition. he not only adopted the suggestion of amaury, but insisted upon taking a part in it. they went out secretly, by night, followed by a great number of attendants, all armed in black, to lie in ambuscade in the wood where the brothers were to pass. girard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rode by flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden in advance of his brother and the abbot of cluny. charlot, who saw him coming, alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought a quarrel with him, and threw him from his horse with a stroke of his lance. girard uttered a cry as he fell; huon heard it, and flew to his defence, with no other weapon than his sword. he came up with him, and saw the blood flowing from his wound. "what has this child done to you, wretch!" he exclaimed to charlot. "how cowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend himself!" "by my faith," said charlot, "i mean to do the same by you. know that i am the son of duke thierry of ardennes, from whom your father, sevinus, took three castles; i have sworn to avenge him, and i defy you." "coward," answered huon, "i know well the baseness that dwells in your race; worthy son of thierry, use the advantage that your armor gives you; but know that i fear you not." at these words charlot had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and to run upon huon, who had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle. with this feeble buckler he received the thrust of the lance. it penetrated the mantle, but missed his body. then, rising upon his stirrups, sir huon struck charlot so terrible a blow with his sword that the helmet was cleft asunder, and his head too. the dastardly prince fell dead upon the ground. huon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. he called the men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order, but nobody issued from the wood to attack him. amaury, who saw charlot's fall, had no desire to compromit himself; and, feeling sure that charlemagne would avenge the death of his son, he saw no occasion for his doing anything more at present. he left huon and the abbot of cluny to bind up the wound of girard, and, having seen them depart and resume their way to paris, he took up the body of charlot, and, placing it across a horse, had it carried to paris, where he arrived four hours after huon. the abbot of cluny presented his nephew to charlemagne, but huon refrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of the ambush which had been set for him, which he said could not have been without the emperor's permission. charlemagne, surprised at a charge which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, asked eagerly of the abbot what were the grounds of the complaints of his nephew. the abbot told him faithfully all that had happened, informing him that a coward knight, who called himself the son of thierry of ardennes, had wounded girard, and run upon huon, who was unarmed; but by his force and valor he had overcome the traitor, and left him dead upon the plain. charlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the action of the infamous thierry, congratulated the young duke upon his victory, himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment, stayed to see the first dressing applied to the wound of girard, and left the brothers in charge of duke namo of bavaria, who, having been a companion in arms of the duke sevinus, regarded the young men almost as if they were his own sons. charlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to his chamber, he heard cries, and saw through the window a party of armed men just arrived. he recognized amaury, who bore a dead knight stretched across a horse; and the name of charlot was heard among the exclamations of the people assembled in the court-yard. charles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of his weaknesses. he descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran to amaury, and uttered a cry of grief on recognizing charlot. "it is huon of bordeaux," said the traitor amaury, "who has massacred your son before it was in my power to defend him." charlemagne, furious at these words, seized a sword, and flew to the apartment of the two brothers to plunge it into the heart of the murderer of his son. duke namo stopped his hand for an instant, while charles told him the crime of which huon was accused. "he is a peer of the realm," said namo, "and if he is guilty, is he not here in your power, and are not we peers the proper judges to condemn him to death? let not your hand be stained with his blood." the emperor, calmed by the wisdom of duke namo, summoned amaury to his presence. the peers assembled to hear his testimony, and the traitor accused huon of bordeaux of having struck the fatal blow without allowing charlot an opportunity to defend himself, and though he knew that his opponent was the emperor's eldest son. the abbot of cluny, indignant at the false accusation of amaury, advanced, and said, "by saint benedict, sire, the traitor lies in his throat. if my nephew has slain charlot it was in his own defence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, and also in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. though i am a son of the church," added the good abbot, "i forget not that i am a knight by birth. i offer to prove with my body the lie upon amaury, if he dares sustain it, and i shall feel that i am doing a better work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds and matins." huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of amaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing amaury, said: "traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?" amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight figure of huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which huon seized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: "i pray you let the combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate cause." the duke namo and the rest, deciding that the question should be remitted to the judgment of heaven, the combat was ordained, to which charlemagne unwillingly consented. the young duke was restored to the charge of duke namo, who the next morning invested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor of proof, with a white shield. the abbot of cluny, delighted to find in his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gave him his blessing, and hastened to the church of st. germains to pray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the lists for the combat. the battle was long and obstinate. the address and agility of huon enabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious amaury aimed at him. but huon had more than once drawn blood from his antagonist. the effect began to be perceived in the failing strength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse, and kneeling, begged for mercy. "spare me," he said, "and i will confess all. aid me to rise, and lead me to charlemagne." the brave and loyal huon, at these words, put his sword under his left arm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, who seized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. the hauberk of huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded but slightly. transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgot how necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of amaury was, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow. duke namo and the other peers approached, had the body of amaury dragged forth from the lists, and conducted huon to charlemagne. the emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and grief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under the plea that huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract his charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish him forever from france. it was not till after long entreaties on the part of duke namo and the rest that he consented to grant huon his pardon, under conditions which he should impose. huon approached, and knelt before the emperor, rendered his homage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his son. charlemagne would not receive the hands of huon in his own, but touched him with his sceptre, saying, "i receive thy homage, and pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition. you shall go immediately to the court of the sultan gaudisso; you shall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shall cut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall find sitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouth the fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of the sultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair of his beard, and four grinders from his mouth." these conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "what!" said the abbot of cluny; "slaughter a saracen prince without first offering him baptism?" "the second condition is not so hard," said the young peers, "but the demand that huon is bound to make of the old sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain." the emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is well known. to the courage of huon nothing seemed impossible. "i accept the conditions," said he, silencing the intercessions of the old duke of bavaria; "my liege, i accept my pardon at this price. i go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer of france." the duke namo and abbot of cluny, being unable to obtain any relaxation of the sentence passed by charlemagne, led forth the young duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition. all that the good abbot could obtain of him was, that he should prepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to rome, to pay his homage to the pope, who was the brother of the duchess alice, huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and his blessing. huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way to rome. huon of bordeaux (continued) huon, having traversed the apennines and italy, arrived at the environs of rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed the dress of a pilgrim. in this attire he presented himself before the pope, and not till after he had made a full confession of his sins did he announce himself as his nephew. "ah! my dear nephew," exclaimed the holy father, "what harder penance could i impose than the emperor has already done? go in peace, my son," he added, absolving him, "i go to intercede for you with the most high." then he led his nephew into his palace, and introduced him to all the cardinals and princes of rome as the duke of guienne, son of the duchess alice, his sister. huon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than three days in a place. the holy father took advantage of this time to inspire him with zeal for the glory of christianity, and with confidence in the protection of the most high. he advised him to embark for palestine, to visit the holy sepulchre, and to depart thence for the interior of asia. loaded with the blessings of the holy father, huon, obeying his counsels, embarked for palestine, arrived, and visited with the greatest reverence the holy places. he then departed, and took his way toward the east. but, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himself in a forest, and remained three days without seeing a human creature, living on honey and wild fruits which he found on the trees. the third day, seeking a passage through a rocky defile, he beheld a man in tattered clothing, whose beard and hair covered his breast and shoulders. this man stopped on seeing him, observed him, and recognized the arms and bearing of a french knight. he immediately approached, and exclaimed, in the language of the south of france, "god be praised! do i indeed behold a chevalier of my own country, after fifteen years passed in this desert without seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?" huon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and came towards him with a smiling countenance. the other regarded him with more surprise than at first. "good heaven!" he exclaimed, "was there ever such a resemblance? ah, noble sir," he added, "tell me, i beseech you, of what country and race you come?" "i require," replied huon, "before telling you mine, that you first reveal your own; let it suffice you at present to know that i am a christian, and that in guienne i was born." "ah! heaven grant that my eyes and my heart do not deceive me," exclaimed the unknown; "my name is sherasmin; i am brother to guire, the mayor of bordeaux. i was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear and illustrious master, sevinus, lost his life. for three years i endured the miseries of slavery; at length i broke my chains and escaped to this desert, where i have sustained myself in solitude ever since. your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, in whose service i was from my infancy till his death." huon made no reply but by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. then sherasmin learned that his arms enfolded the son of the duke sevinus. he led him to his cabin, and spread before him the dry fruits and honey which formed his only aliment. huon recounted his adventures to sherasmin, who was moved to tears at the recital. he then consulted him on means of conducting his enterprise. sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemed impossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandon him. the saracen language, which he was master of, would be serviceable to them when they should leave the desert, and mingle with men. they took the route of the red sea, and entered arabia. their way lay through a region which sherasmin described as full of terrors. it was inhabited by oberon, king of the fairies, who made captive such knights as were rash enough to penetrate into it, and transformed them into hobgoblins. it was possible to avoid this district at the expense of somewhat lengthening their route; but no dangers could deter huon of bordeaux; and the brave sherasmin, who had now resumed the armor of a knight, reluctantly consented to share with him the dangers of the shorter route. they entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branched off in various directions. one of them seemed to be terminated by a superb palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliant weathercocks covered with diamonds. a superb chariot issued from the gate of the palace, and drove toward huon and his companion, as if to meet them half-way. the prince saw no one in the chariot but a child apparently about five years old, very beautiful, and clad in a robe which glittered with precious stones. at the sight of him, sherasmin's terror was extreme. he seized the reins of huon's horse, and turned him about, hurrying the prince away, and assuring him that they were lost if they stopped to parley with the mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a child, was full of years and of treachery. huon was sorry to lose sight of the beautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet he followed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possible speed. presently a storm began to roar through the forest, the daylight grew dim, and they found their way with difficulty. from time to time they seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said, "stop, duke huon; listen to me: it is in vain you fly me!" sherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he had reached the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the two communities of which were assembled at that time in a religious procession. sherasmin, feeling safe from the malice of the dwarf in the presence of so many holy persons and the sacred banners, stopped to ask an asylum, and made huon dismount also. but at that moment they were joined by the dwarf, who blew a blast upon an ivory horn which hung from his neck. immediately the good sherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance like a young collegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt as if it would be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, and were imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together, forming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. huron alone felt no disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter at seeing the ridiculous postures and leaps of the others. the dwarf, approaching huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in huon's own language, "duke of guienne, why do you shun me? i conjure you, in heaven's name, speak to me." huon, hearing himself addressed in this serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare to use the holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, "sir, whoever you are, i am ready to hear and answer you." "huon, my friend," continued the dwarf, "i always loved your race, and you have been dear to me ever since your birth. the gracious state of conscience in which you were when you entered my wood has protected you from all enchantments, even if i had intended to practise any upon you. if these monks, these nuns, and even your friend sherasmin, had had a conscience as pure as yours, my horn would not have set them dancing; but where is the monk or the nun who can always be deaf to the voice of the tempter, and sherasmin in the desert has often doubted the power of providence." at these words huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. he begged mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of the horn ceased at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothed their dresses, and hastened to resume their places in the procession. sherasmin, overcome with heat, panting, and unable to stand on his legs, threw himself upon the grass, and began, "did not i tell you"--he was going on in an angry tone, but the dwarf, approaching, said, "sherasmin, why have you murmured against providence? why have you thought evil of me? you deserved this light punishment; but i know you to be good and loyal; i mean to show myself your friend, as you shall soon see." at these words he presented him a rich goblet. "make the sign of the cross on this cup," said he, "and then believe that i hold my power from the god you adore, whose faithful servant i am, as well as you." sherasmin obeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine, a draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feel young again. overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on his knees, but the dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, and thus commenced his history: "julius caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by a storm to take shelter in the island of celea, where dwelt the fairy glorianda. from this renowned pair i draw my birth. i am the inheritor of that which was most admirable in each of my parents: my father's heroic qualities, and my mother's beauty and magic art. but a malicious sister of my mother's, in revenge for some slight offence, touched me with her wand when i was only five years old, and forbade me to grow any bigger; and my mother, with all her power, was unable to annul the sentence. i have thus continued infantile in appearance, though full of years and experience. the power which i derive from my mother i use sometimes for my own diversion, but always to promote justice and to reward virtue. i am able and willing to assist you, duke of guienne, for i know the errand on which you come hither. i presage for you, if you follow my counsels, complete success; and the beautiful clarimunda for a wife." when he had thus spoken he presented to huon the precious and useful cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a good man took it in his hand. he gave him also his beautiful horn of ivory, saying to him, "huon, when you sound this gently, you will make the hearers dance, as you have seen; but if you sound it forcibly, fear not that i shall hear it, though at a hundred leagues' distance, and will fly to your relief; but be careful not to sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent occasion." oberon directed huon what course he should take to reach the country of the sultan gaudisso. "you will encounter great perils," said he, "before arriving there, and i fear me," he added, with tears in his eyes, "that you will not in everything obey my directions, and in that case you will suffer much calamity." then he embraced huon and sherasmin, and left them. huon and his follower travelled many days through the desert before they reached any inhabited place, and all this while the wonderful cup sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, but food also. at last they came to a great city. as day was declining, they entered its suburbs, and sherasmin, who spoke the saracen language perfectly, inquired for an inn where they could pass the night. a person who appeared to be one of the principal inhabitants, seeing two strangers of respectable appearance making this inquiry, stepped forward and begged them to accept the shelter of his mansion. they entered, and their host did the honors of his abode with a politeness which they were astonished to see in a saracen. he had them served with coffee and sherbet, and all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the servants awkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs, when he started up, exclaiming in very good gascon, "blood and thunder! you blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!" huon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the language of his country thus break out unawares. the host, who had no idea that his guests understood his words, was astonished when huon addressed him in the dialect of his country. immediately confidence was established between them; especially when the domestics had retired. the host, seeing that he was discovered, and that the two pretended saracens were from the borders of the garonne, embraced them, and disclosed that he was a christian. huon, who had learned prudence from the advice of oberon, to test his host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which the fairy- king had given him, and presented it empty to the host. "a fair cup," said he, "but i should like it better if it was full." immediately it was so. the host, astonished, dared not put it to his lips. "drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman," said huon; "your truth is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in the hands of an honest man." the host did not hesitate longer; the cup passed freely from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increased as it passed, and each recounted his adventures. those of huon redoubled his host's respect; for he recognized in him his legitimate sovereign: while the host's narrative was in these words: "my name is floriac; this great and strong city, you will hear with surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of duke sevinus, and your uncle. you have no doubt heard that a young brother of the duke of guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his companions, by some corsairs. i was then his page, and we were carried by those corsairs to barbary, where we were sold for slaves. the barbary prince sent us as part of the tribute which he yearly paid to his sovereign, the sultan gaudisso. your uncle, who had been somewhat puffed up by the flattery of his attendants, thought to increase his importance with his new master by telling him his rank. the sultan, who, like a true mussulman, detested all christian princes, exerted himself from that moment to bring him over to the saracen faith. he succeeded but too well. your uncle, seduced by the arts of the santons, and by the pleasures and indulgences which the sultan allowed him, committed the horrid crime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced mahometanism. gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him espouse one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city and adjoining country. your uncle preserved for me the same friendship which he had had when a boy; but all his caresses and efforts could not make me renounce my faith. perhaps he respected me in his heart for my resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he had hopes of inducing me in time to imitate him. he made me accompany him to this city, of which he was master, he gave me his confidence, and permits me to keep in my service some christians, whom i protect for the sake of their faith." "ah!" exclaimed huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. a prince of the house of guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly abandonment of the faith of his fathers?" "alas!" replied floriac, "i fear he will neither be sensible of shame at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew so worthy of his lineage. brutified by sensuality, jealous of his power, which he often exercises with cruelty, he will more probably restrain you by force or put you to death." "be it so," said the brave and fervent huon, "i could not die in a better cause; and i demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow, after having told him of my arrival and my birth." floriac still objected, but huon would take no denial, and he promised obedience. next morning floriac waited upon the governor and told him of the arrival of his nephew, huon of bordeaux; and of the intention of the prince to present himself at his court that very day. the governor, surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once made up his mind what to do. he knew that floriac loved christians and the princes of his native land too well to aid in any treason to one of them; he therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of the arrival of the eldest born of his family at his court. he immediately sent floriac to find him; he caused his palace to be put in festal array, his divan to be assembled, and after giving some secret orders, went himself to meet his nephew, whom he introduced under his proper name and title to all the great officers of his court. huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead encircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of precious stones. his natural candor made him receive with pain the embraces which the treacherous governor lavished upon him. meanwhile the hope of finding a suitable moment to reproach him for his apostasy made him submit to those honors which his uncle caused to be rendered to him. the governor evaded with address the chance of being alone with huon and spent all the morning in taking him through his gardens and palace. at last, when the hour of dinner approached, and the governor took him by the hand to lead him into the dining-hall, huon seized the opportunity and said to him in a low voice, "o my uncle! o prince, brother of the duke sevinus! in what condition have i the grief and shame of seeing you!" the governor pretended to be moved, pressed his hand, and whispered in his ear, "silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow morning i will hear you fully." huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the table by the side of the governor. the mufti, some cadis, agas, and santons, filled the other places. sherasmin sat down with them; but floriac, who would not lose sight of his guests, remained standing, and passed in and out to observe what was going on within the palace. he soon perceived a number of armed men gliding through the passages and antechambers connected with the dining-hall. he was about to enter to give his guests notice of what he had seen when he heard a violent noise and commotion in the hall. the cause was this. huon and sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course and ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not being accustomed to drink only water at their meals, huon and sherasmin looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a regimen. huon laughed outright at the impatience of sherasmin, but soon, experiencing the same want himself, he drew forth oberon's cup and made the sign of the cross. the cup filled and he drank it off, and handed it to sherasmin, who followed his example. the governor and his officers, seeing this abhorred sign, contracted their brows and sat in silent consternation. huon pretended not to observe it, and having filled the cup again handed it to his uncle, saying, "pray, join us, dear uncle; it is excellent bordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like mother's milk." the governor, who often drank in secret with his own favorite sultanas the wines of greece and shiraz, never in public drank anything but water. he had not for a long time tasted the excellent wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink what was now handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup, outshining the gold itself. he stretched forth his hand, took the brimming goblet, and raised it to his lips, when immediately it dried up and disappeared. huon and sherasmin, like gascons as they were, laughed at his astonishment. "christian dogs!" he exclaimed, "do you dare to insult me at my own table? but i will soon be revenged." at these words he threw the cup at the head of his nephew, who caught it with his left hand, while with the other he snatched the turban, with its crescent, from the governor's head and threw it on the floor. all the saracens started up from table, with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult. huon and sherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their swords the scimitars directed against them. at this moment the doors of the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs rushed in, who joined in the attack upon huon and sherasmin. the prince and his followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side- board, where they kept at bay the crowd of assailants, making the most forward of them smart for their audacity. but more troops came pressing in and the brave huon, inspired by the wine of bordeaux, and not angry enough to lose his relish for a joke, blew a gentle note on his horn, and no sooner was it heard than it quelled the rage of the combatants and set them to dancing. huon and sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their elevated position on a scene the most singular and amusing. very soon the sultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards withdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. the favorite sultana seized upon a young santon, who performed jumps two feet high; but soon the long dresses of this couple got intermingled and threw them down. the santon's beard was caught in the sultana's necklace, and they could not disentangle them. the governor by no means approved this familiarity, and took two steps forward to get at the santon, but he stumbled over a prostrate dervise and measured his length on the floor. the dancing continued till the strength of the performers was exhausted, and they fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. the governor at length made signs to huon that he would yield everything if he would but allow him to rest. the bargain was ratified; the governor allowed huon and sherasmin to depart on their way, and even gave them a ring which would procure them safe passage through his country and access to the sultan gaudisso. the two friends hastened to avail themselves of this favorable turn, and taking leave of floriac, pursued their journey. huon of bordeaux (continued) huon had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart had never been touched with love. honor had been his mistress, and in pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to softer cares. strange that a heart so insensible should first be touched by something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was. the day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the travellers as they passed through a forest. a grotto offered them shelter from the night dews. the magic cup supplied their evening meal; for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but more solid fare when desired. fatigue soon threw them into profound repose. lulled by the murmur of the foliage, and breathing the fragrance of the flowers, huon dreamed that a lady more beautiful than he had ever before seen hung over him and imprinted a kiss upon his lips. as he stretched out his arms to embrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her away. huon awoke in an agony of regret. a few moments sufficed to afford some consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a dream; but his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice of sherasmin. huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower of the reason of his pensiveness; and got nothing in return but his rallyings for allowing himself to be disturbed by such a cause. he recommended a draught from the fairy goblet, and huon tried it with good effect. at early dawn they resumed their way. they travelled till high noon, but said little to one another. huon was musing on his dream, and sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the banks of the flowery garonne. on a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning an angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was fighting with a furious lion. the knight's horse lay dead, and it seemed as if another moment would end the combat, for terror and fatigue had quite disabled the knight for further resistance. he fell, and the lion's paw was raised over him, when a blow from huon's sword turned the monster's rage upon a new enemy. his roar shook the forest, and he crouched in act to spring, when, with the rapidity of lightning, huon plunged his sword into his side. he rolled over on the plain in the agonies of death. they raised the knight from the ground, and sherasmin hastened to offer him a draught from the fairy cup. the wine sparkled to the brim, and the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it shrunk away, and did not even wet his lips. he dashed the goblet angrily on the ground, with an exclamation of resentment. this incident did not tend to make either party more acceptable to the other; and what followed was worse. for when huon said, "sir knight, thank god for your deliverance,"--"thank mahomet, rather, yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to render service to no less a personage than the prince of hyrcania." at the sound of this blasphemy huon drew his sword and turned upon the miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of which he had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. he ran to huon's horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped spurs to his side, and galloped out of sight. the adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. the prince and sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the remaining horse as they best might. at length, as evening set in, they descried the pinnacles and towers of a great city full before them, which they knew to be the famous city of bagdad. they were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at its precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to take, were glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their inquiries, offered them such accommodations as her cottage could supply. they thankfully accepted the offer, and entered the low door. the good dame busily prepared the best fare her stores supplied,--milk, figs, and peaches,--deeply regretting that the bleak winds had nipped her almond-trees. sir huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. the old lady talked while her guests ate. she doubted not, she said, they had come to be present at the great feast in honor of the marriage of the sultan's daughter, which was to take place on the morrow. they asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old lady answered, "the prince of hyrcania," but added, "our princess hates him, and would rather wed a dragon than him." "how know you that?" asked huon; and the dame informed him that she had it from the princess herself, who was her foster-child. huon inquired the reason of the princess's aversion; and the woman pleased to find her chat excite so much interest, replied that it was all in consequence of a dream. "a dream!" exclaimed huon. "yes! a dream. she dreamed that she was a hind, and that the prince, as a hunter, was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a beautiful dwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his side a young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a foreign land. she dreamed that the car stopped where she stood, and that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it, when suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and the fair-haired youth. but from her heart that vision did not fade, and from that time her affianced bridegroom, the hyrcanian prince, had become odious to her sight. yet the sultan, her father, by no means regarding such a cause as sufficient to prevent the marriage, had named the morrow as the time when it should be solemnized, in presence of his court and many princes of the neighboring countries, whom the fame of the princess's beauty and the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the scene." we may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the breast of huon. was it not clear that providence led him on, and cleared the way for his happy success? sleep did not early visit the eyes of huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of youth, he indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his strange experience. the next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of his fate, he prepared to deliver the message of charlemagne. clad in his armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he reached the palace of gaudisso when the guests were assembled at the banquet. as he approached the gate a voice called on all true believers to enter; and huon, the brave and faithful huon, in his impatience passed in under that false pretention. he had no sooner passed the barrier than he felt ashamed of his baseness, and was overwhelmed with regret. to make amends for his fault he ran forward to the second gate, and cried to the porter, "dog of a misbeliever, i command you in the name of him who died on the cross, open to me!" the points of a hundred weapons immediately opposed his passage. huon then remembered for the first time the ring he had received from his uncle, the governor. he produced it, and demanded to be led to the sultan's presence. the officer of the guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and allowed him free entrance. in the same way he passed the other doors to the rich saloon where the great sultan was at dinner with his tributary princes. at sight of the ring the chief attendant led huon to the head of the hall, and introduced him to the sultan and his princes as the ambassador of charlemagne. a seat was provided for him near the royal party. the prince of hyrcania, the same whom huon had rescued from the lion, and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful clarimunda, sat on the sultan's right hand, and the princess herself on his left. it chanced that huon found himself near the seat of the princess, and hardly were the ceremonies of reception over before he made haste to fulfill the commands of charlemagne by imprinting a kiss upon her rosy lips, and after that a second, not by command, but by good will. the prince of hyrcania cried out, "audacious infidel! take the reward of thy insolence!" and aimed a blow at huon, which, if it had reached him, would have brought his embassy to a speedy termination. but the ingrate failed of his aim, and huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude at once by a blow which severed his head from his body. so suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to arrest it; but now gaudisso cried out, "seize the murderer!" huon was hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the crowd of courtiers at bay. but he saw new combatants enter, and could not hope to maintain his ground against so many. he recollected his horn, and raising it to his lips, blew a blast almost as loud as that of roland at roncesvalles. it was in vain. oberon heard it; but the sin of which huon had been guilty in bearing, though but for a moment, the character of a believer in the false prophet, had put it out of oberon's power to help him. huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause, lost his strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and plunged into a dungeon. his life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved for a more painful death. the sultan meant that, after being made to feel all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be flayed alive. but an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than oberon himself interested himself for the brave huon. the enchanter was love. the princess clarimunda learned with horror the fate to which the young prince was destined. by the aid of her governante she gained over the keeper of the prison, and went herself to lighten the chains of her beloved. it was her hand that removed his fetters, from her he received supplies of food to sustain a life which he devoted from thenceforth wholly to her. after the most tender explanations the princess departed, promising to repeat her visit on the morrow. the next day she came according to promise, and again brought supplies of food. these visits were continued during a whole month. huon was too good a son of the church to forget that the amiable princess was a saracen, and he availed himself of these interviews to instruct her in the true faith. how easy it is to believe the truth when uttered by the lips of those we love! clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief in the christian doctrines, and desired to be baptized. meanwhile the sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his prisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise that he was not yet much reduced thereby. on his repeating the inquiry, after a short interval, the keeper replied that the prisoner had died suddenly, and had been buried in the cavern. the sultan could only regret that he had not sooner ordered the execution of the sentence. while these things were going on the faithful sherasmin, who had not accompanied huon in his last adventure, but had learned by common rumor the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing something for the rescue of his master. he presented himself to the sultan as solario, his nephew. guadisso received him with kindness, and all the courtiers loaded him with attentions. he soon found means to inform himself how the princess regarded the brave but unfortunate huon, and having made himself known to her, confidence was soon established between them. clarimunda readily consented to assist in the escape of huon, and to quit with him her father's court to repair to that of charlemagne. their united efforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel was secretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight, when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. huon himself positively refused to go leaving the orders of charlemagne unexecuted. sherasmin was in despair. bitterly he complained of the fickleness and cruelty of oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis when it was most necessary. earnestly he urged every argument to satisfy the prince that he had done enough for honor, and could not be held bound to achieve impossibilities. but all was of no avail, and he knew not which way to turn, when one of those events occurred which are so frequent under turkish despotisms. a courier arrived at the court of the sultan, bearing the ring of his sovereign, the mighty agrapard, caliph of arabia, and bringing the bow-string for the neck of gaudisso. no reason was assigned; none but the pleasure of the caliph is ever required in such cases; but it was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had persuaded the caliph that gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had accumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with his sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in his emirship. the body of gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and vultures, had not sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the deceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial, which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard and grinders, agreeably to the orders of charlemagne. no obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful follower in returning to france. they sailed, taking rome in their way, where the holy father himself blessed the union of his nephew, duke huon of bordeaux, with the princess clarimunda. soon afterward they arrived in france, where huon laid his trophies at the feet of charlemagne, and, being restored to the favor of the emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to the duchess, his mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his province of guienne and his city of bordeaux, where the pair were received with transports of joy. ogier, the dane ogier, the dane, was the son of geoffrey, who wrested denmark from the pagans, and reigned the first christian king of that country. when ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of ravishing beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the infant. they encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took him in her arms, kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "i give you," said she, "to be the bravest warrior of your times." she delivered the infant to her sister, who said, "i give you abundant opportunities to display your valor." "sister," said the third lady, "you have given him a dangerous boon; i give him that he shall never be vanquished." the fourth sister added, as she laid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth, "i give you the gift of pleasing." the fifth said, "lest all these gifts serve only to betray, i give you sensibility to return the love you inspire." then spoke morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the group. "charming creature, i claim you for my own; and i give you not to die till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of avalon." then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters. after this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized with the name of ogier. in his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the standard of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all the arts necessary to make him a hero. he had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when charlemagne, whose power was established over all the sovereigns of his time, recollected that geoffroy, ogier's father, had omitted to render the homage due to him as emperor, and sovereign lord of denmark, one of the grand fiefs of the empire. he accordingly sent an embassy to demand of the king of denmark this homage, and on receiving a refusal, couched in haughty terms, sent an army to enforce the demand. geoffroy, after an unsuccessful resistance, was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his sincerity delivered ogier, his eldest son, a hostage to charles, to be brought up at his court. he was placed in charge of the duke namo of bavaria, the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son. ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. he surpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his companions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was attentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to imitate them. yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his condition as a hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his father. the king of denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new loves. ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife, and had a son named guyon. the new queen had absolute power over her husband, and fearing that, if he should see ogier again, he would give him the preference over guyon, she had adroitly persuaded him to delay rendering his homage to charlemagne, till now four years had passed away since the last renewal of that ceremony. charlemagne, irritated at this delinquency, drew closer the bonds of ogier's captivity until he should receive a response from the king of denmark to a fresh summons which he caused to be sent to him. the answer of geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage of charlemagne was roused in the highest degree. he was at first disposed to wreak his vengeance upon ogier, his hostage; but at the entreaties of duke namo, who felt towards his pupil like a father, consented to spare his life, if ogier would swear fidelity to him as his liege-lord, and promise not to quit his court without his permission. ogier accepted these terms, and was allowed to retain all the freedom he had before enjoyed. the emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce his disobedient vassal, if he had not been called off in another direction by a message from pope leo, imploring his assistance. the saracens had landed in the neighborhood of rome, occupied mount janiculum, and prepared to pass the tiber and carry fire and sword to the capital of the christian world. charlemagne hesitated not to yield to the entreaties of the pope. he speedily assembled an army, crossed the alps, traversed italy, and arrived at spoleto, a strong place to which the pope had retired. leo, at the head of his cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered him homage, as to the son of pepin, the illustrious protector of the holy see, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hour of need. charlemagne stopped but two days at spoleto, and learning that the infidels, having rendered themselves masters of rome, were besieging the capitol, which could not long hold out against them, marched promptly to attack them. the advanced posts of the army were commanded by duke namo, on whom ogier waited as his squire. he did not yet bear arms, not having received the order of knighthood. the oriflamme, the royal standard, was borne by a knight named alory, who showed himself unworthy of the honor. duke namo, seeing a strong body of the infidels advancing to attack him, gave the word to charge them. ogier remained in the rear, with the other youths, grieving much that he was not permitted to fight. very soon he saw alory lower the oriflamme, and turn his horse in flight. ogier pointed him out to the young men, and seizing a club, rushed upon alory and struck him from his horse. then, with his companions, he disarmed him, clothed himself in his armor, raised the oriflamme, and mounting the horse of the unworthy knight, flew to the front rank, where he joined duke namo, drove back the infidels, and carried the oriflamme quite through their broken ranks. the duke, thinking it was alory, whom he had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his strength and valor. ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying themselves with armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed ogier and carried death into the ranks of the saracens, who fell back in confusion upon their main body. duke namo now ordered a retreat, and ogier obeyed with reluctance, when they perceived charlemagne advancing to their assistance. the combat now became general, and was more terrible than ever. charlemagne had overthrown corsuble, the commander of the saracens, and had drawn his famous sword, joyeuse, to cut off his head, when two saracen knights set upon him at once, one of whom slew his horse, and the other overthrew the emperor on the sand. perceiving by the eagle on his casque who he was, they dismounted in haste to give him his deathblow. never was the life of the emperor in such peril. but ogier, who saw him fall, flew to his rescue. though embarrassed with the oriflamme, he pushed his horse against one of the saracens and knocked him down; and with his sword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned to the earth. then helping the emperor to rise, he remounted him on the horse of one of the fallen knights. "brave and generous alory!" charles exclaimed, "i owe to you my honor and my life!" ogier made no answer; but, leaving charlemagne surrounded by a great many of the knights who had flown to his succor, he plunged into the thickest ranks of the enemy, and carried the oriflamme, followed by a gallant train of youthful warriors, till the standard of mahomet turned in retreat, and the infidels sought safety in their intrenchments. then the good archbishop turpin laid aside his helmet and his bloody sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the line of his duty while slaying infidels), took his mitre and his crosier, and intoned te deum. at this moment ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay the oriflamme at the feet of the emperor. he was followed by a train of warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded with armor too heavy for them. ogier knelt at the feet of charlemagne, who embraced him, calling him alory, while turpin from the height of the altar, blessed him with all his might. then young orlando, son of the count milone, and nephew of charlemagne, no longer able to endure this misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran to unlace ogier's, while the other young men laid aside theirs. our author says he cannot express the surprise, the admiration, and the tenderness of the emperor and his peers. charles folded ogier in his arms, and the happy fathers of those brave youths embraced them with tears of joy. the good duke namo stepped forward, and charlemagne yielded ogier to his embrace. "how much do i owe you," he said, "good and wise friend, for having restrained my anger! my dear ogier! i owe you my life! my sword leaps to touch your shoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends." at these words he drew that famous sword, joyeuse, and while ogier and the rest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on them the order of knighthood. the young orlando and his cousin oliver could not refrain, even in the presence of the emperor, from falling upon ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhood in arms, so dear and so sacred to the knights of old times; but charlot, the emperor's son, at the sight of the glory with which ogier had covered himself, conceived the blackest jealousy and hate. the rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings of the army. turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of heaven upon the youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which was prepared for them. duke namo presented them with golden spurs, charles himself girded on their swords. but what was his astonishment when he examined that intended for ogier! the loving fairy, morgana, had had the art to change it, and to substitute one of her own procuring, and when charles drew it out of the scabbard, these words appeared written on the steel: "my name is cortana, of the same steel and temper as joyeuse and durindana." charles saw that a superior power watched over the destinies of ogier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and ogier promised him the devotion of a son. happy had it been for both if they had always continued mindful of their promises. the saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay when carahue, king of mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrown by ogier at the time of the rescue of charlemagne, determined to challenge him to single combat. with that view he assumed the dress of a herald, resolved to carry his own message. the french knights admired his air, and said to one another that he seemed more fit to be a knight than a bearer of messages. carahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight who bore the oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded by saying that carahue, king of mauritania, respected that knight so much that he challenged him to the combat. ogier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by charlot, who said that the gage of the king of mauritania could not fitly be received by a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meant ogier, who was at that time serving as hostage for his father. fire flashed from the eyes of ogier, but the presence of the emperor restrained his speech, and he was calmed by the kind looks of charlemagne, who said, with an angry voice, "silence, charlot! by the life of bertha, my queen, he who has saved my life is as dear to me as yourself. ogier," he continued, "you are no longer a hostage. herald! report my answer to your master, that never does knight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. ogier, the dane, accepts of his, and i myself am his security." carahue, profoundly bowing, replied, "my lord, i was sure that the sentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy of your high and brilliant fame; i shall report your answer to my master, who i know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms against you." then, turning to charlot, whom he did not know as the son of the emperor, he continued, "as for you, sir knight, if the desire of battle inflames you, i have it in charge from sadon, cousin of the king of mauritania, to give the like defiance to any french knights who will grant him the honor of the combat." charlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproof which he had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage. carahue received it with ogier's, and it was agreed that the combat should be on the next day in a meadow environed by woods and equally distant from both armies. the perfidious charlot meditated the blackest treason. during the night he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and like himself in their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avenge his injuries, armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie in ambush in the wood, with orders to make a pretended attack upon the whole party, but in fact, to lay heavy hands upon ogier and the two saracens. at the dawn of day sadon and carahue, attended tonly by two pages to carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; and charlot and ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths. ogier advanced with a calm air, saluted courteously the two saracen knights, and joined them in arranging the terms of combat. while this was going on the perfidious charlot remained behind and gave his men the signal to advance. that cowardly troop issued from the wood and encompassed the three knights. all three were equally surprised at the attack, but neither of them suspected the other to have any hand in the treason. seeing the attack made equally upon them all, they united their efforts to resist it, and made the most forward of the assailants bite the dust. cortana fell on no one without inflicting a mortal wound, but the sword of carahue was not of equal temper and broke in his hands. at the same instant his horse was slain, and carahue fell, without a weapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. ogier, who saw it, ran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the prince with his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the fallen ruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. at that moment charlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon ogier, knocked him down, and would have run him through with his lance if sadon, who saw the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back. carahue leapt lightly upon the horse which ogier presented him, and had time only to exclaim, "brave ogier, i am no longer your enemy, i pledge to you an eternal friendship," when numerous saracen knights were seen approaching, having discovered the treachery, and charlot with his followers took refuge in the wood. the troop which advanced was commanded by dannemont, the exiled king of denmark, whom geoffroy, ogier's father, had driven from his throne and compelled to take refuge with the saracens. learning who ogier was, he instantly declared him his prisoner, in spite of the urgent remonstrances and even threats of carahue and sadon, and carried him under a strong guard to the saracen camp. here he was at first subjected to the most rigorous captivity, but carahue and sadon insisted so vehemently on his release, threatening to turn their arms against their own party if it was not granted, while dannemont as eagerly opposed the measure, that corsuble, the saracen commander, consented to a middle course, and allowed ogier the freedom of his camp, upon his promise not to leave it without permission. carahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. he left the city next morning, proceeded to the camp of charlemagne, and demanded to be led to the emperor. when he reached his presence he dismounted from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword, and holding it by the blade presented it to charlemagne as he knelt before him. "illustrious prince," he said, "behold before you the herald who brought the challenge to your knights from the king of mauritania. the cowardly old king dannemont has made the brave ogier prisoner, and has prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. i come to make amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself, carahue, king of mauritania, your prisoner." charlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity of carahue; he raised him, embraced him, and restored to him his sword. "prince," said he, "your presence and the bright example you afford my knights consoles me for the loss of ogier. would to god you might receive our holy faith, and be wholly united with us." all the lords of the court, led by duke namo, paid their respects to the king of mauritania. charlot only failed to appear, fearing to be recognized as a traitor; but the heart of carahue was too noble to pierce that of charlemagne by telling him the treachery of his son. meanwhile the saracen army was rent by discord. the troops of carahue clamored against the commander-in-chief because their king was left in captivity. they even threatened to desert the cause and turn their arms against their allies. charlemagne pressed the siege vigorously, till at length the saracen leaders found themselves compelled to abandon the city and betake themselves to their ships. a truce was made; ogier was exchanged for carahue, and the two friends embraced one another with vows of perpetual brotherhood. the pope was reestablished in his dominions, and italy being tranquil, charlemagne returned with his peers and their followers to france. ogier, the dane (continued) charlemagne had not forgotten the offence of geoffroy, the king of denmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforce submission. but at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassy from geoffroy, acknowledging his fault, and craving assistance against an army of invaders who had attacked his states with a force which he was unable to repel. the soul of charlemagne was too great to be implacable, and he took this opportunity to test that of ogier, who had felt acutely the unkindness of his father, in leaving him, without regard or notice, fifteen years in captivity. charles asked ogier whether, in spite of his father's neglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his assistance. he replied, "a son can never be excused from helping his father by any cause short of death." charlemagne placed an army of a thousand knights under the command of ogier, and great numbers more volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. he flew to the succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove them in confusion to their vessels. ogier then hastened to the capital, but as he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding a knell. he soon learned the cause; it was the obsequies of geoffroy, the king. ogier felt keenly the grief of not having been permitted to embrace his father once more, and to learn his latest commands; but he found that his father had declared him heir to his throne. he hastened to the church where the body lay; he knelt and bathed the lifeless form with his tears. at that moment a celestial light beamed all around, and a voice of an angel said, "ogier, leave thy crown to guyon, thy brother, and bear no other title than that of 'the dane.' thy destiny is glorious, and other kingdoms are reserved for thee." ogier obeyed the divine behest. he saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing his brother, told him that he was content with his lot in being reckoned among the paladins of charlemagne, and resigned all claims to the crown of denmark. ogier returned covered with glory to the court of charlemagne, and the emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded him with caresses, and treated him almost as an equal. we pass in silence the adventures of ogier for several ensuing years, in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their force in making him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war. he married the charming belicene, and became the father of young baldwin, a youth who seemed to inherit in full measure the strength and courage of his father and the beauty of his mother. when the lad was old enough to be separated from his mother, ogier took him to court and presented him to charlemagne, who embraced him and took him into his service. it seemed to duke namo, and all the elder knights, as if they saw in him ogier himself, as he was when a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad their kind regards. even charlot at first seemed to be fond of him, though after a while the resemblance to ogier which he noticed had the effect to excite his hatred. baldwin was attentive to charlot, and lost no occasion to be serviceable. the prince loved to play chess, and baldwin, who played well, often made a party with him. one day charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; he thought he could, by taking a piece from baldwin, get some amends for his loss; but baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which he had set for him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said, "check-mate." chariot rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavy chess-board, and dashed it with all his strength on the head of baldwin, who fell, and died where he fell. frightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of the terrible ogier, charlot concealed himself in the interior of the palace. a young companion of baldwin hastened and informed ogier of the event. he ran to the chamber, and beheld the body of his child bathed in blood, and it could not be concealed from him that charlot gave the blow. transported with rage, ogier sought charlot through the palace, and charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, took refuge in the hall of charlemagne, where he seated himself at table with duke namo and salomon, duke of brittany. ogier, with sword drawn, followed him to the very table of the emperor. when a cupbearer attempted to bar his way he struck the cup from his hand and dashed the contents in the emperor's face. charles rose in a passion, seized a knife, and would have plunged it into his breast, had not salomon and another baron thrown themselves between, while namo, who had retained his ancient influence over ogier, drew him out of the room. foreseeing the consequence of this violence, pitying ogier, and in his heart excusing him, namo hurried him away before the guards of the palace could arrest him, made him mount his horse, and leave paris. charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath to do all in their power to arrest ogier, and bring him to condign punishment. ogier on his part sent messages to the emperor, offering to give himself up on condition that charlot should be punished for his atrocious crime. the emperor would listen to no conditions, and went in pursuit of ogier at the head of a large body of soldiers. ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supported by many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. the contest raged long, with no decisive results. ogier more than once had the emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of his advantage, and released him without conditions. he even implored pardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishment of charlot. but charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthy son to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating one who had been so deeply injured. at length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in his cause, ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from those who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the duke guyon, his brother. on his way, having reached the forest of ardennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retired valley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. he unsaddled beiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf, rested his head on his shield, and slept. it so happened that turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that he was archbishop of rheins, was at that time in the vicinity, making a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction. but his dignity of peer of france, and his martial spirit, which caused him to be reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of his time, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knights as he had of clergymen. one of these was thirsty, and knowing the fountain on the borders of which ogier was reposing, he rode to it, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on the ground. he hastened back, and let the archbishop know, who approached the fountain, and recognized ogier. the first impulse of the good and generous turpin was to save his friend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his archdeacons and knights, who also recognized ogier, reminded the archbishop of the oath which the emperor had exacted of them all. turpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without a groan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight. the archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of ogier, and conducted their prisoner to the emperor at soissons. the emperor had become so much embittered by ogier's obstinate resistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to order him to instant death. but turpin, seconded by the good dukes namo and salomon, prayed so hard for him that charlemagne consented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to close imprisonment, under the charge of the archbishop, strictly limiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, with one piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. in this way he hoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing on himself the hostility of the king of denmark, and other powerful friends of ogier. he exacted a new oath of turpin to obey his order strictly. the good archbishop loved ogier too well not to cast about for some means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose if subjected to such scanty fare, for ogier was seven feet tall, and had an appetite in proportion. turpin remembered, moreover, that ogier was a true son of the church, always zealous to propagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified in practising on this occasion what in later times has been entitled "mental reservation," without swerving from the letter of the oath which he had taken. this is the method he hit upon. every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a loaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a quarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held forty pints of wine, and allowed ogier a quarter of it daily. ogier's imprisonment lasted long; charlemagne was astonished to hear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when he inquired more particularly of turpin, the good archbishop, relying on his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm positively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted ration. we forgot to say that, when ogier was led prisoner to soissons, the abbot of saint faron, observing the fine horse beiffror, and not having at the time any other favor to ask of charlemagne, begged the emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to his abbey. he was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when he had arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where the horse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward. the horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of ogier in his armor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weight of the abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ran away, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of the mountain till he reached the convent of jouaire, where, in sight of the abbess and her nuns, he threw the abbot, already half dead with fright, to the ground. the abbot, bruised and mortified, revenged himself on poor beiffror, whom he condemned, in his wrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that he was building near the abbey. thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and often beaten, the noble horse beiffror passed the time while his master's imprisonment lasted. that imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had not been for some important events which forced the emperor to set ogier at liberty. the emperor learned at the same time that carahue, king of mauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand the liberation of ogier; that guyon, king of denmark, was prepared to second the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all, that the saracens, under bruhier, sultan of arabia, had landed in gascony, taken bordeaux, and were marching with all speed for paris. charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of ogier was to him. but, in spite of the representations of turpin, namo, and salomon, he could not bring himself to consent to surrender charlot to such punishment as ogier should see fit to impose. besides, he believed that ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened by imprisonment and long abstinence. at this crisis he received a message from bruhier, proposing to put the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the emperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his army. charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, but his counsellors all opposed it. the herald was therefore told that the emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and give his answer the next day. it was during this interval that the three dukes succeeded in prevailing upon charlemagne to pardon ogier, and to send for him to combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no easy task to persuade ogier. the idea of his long imprisonment and the recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the blow of the ferocious charlot, made him long resist the urgency of his friends. though glory called him to encounter bruhier, and the safety of christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy of the faith, ogier only yielded at last on condition that charlot should be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should see fit. the terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and charlemagne, with a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the generous though passionate soul of ogier, at last consented to them. ogier was led into the presence of charlemagne by the three peers. the emperor, faithful to his word, had caused charlot to be brought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, his hands tied, and his head uncovered. when the emperor saw ogier approach he took charlot by the arm, led him towards ogier, and said these words: "i surrender the criminal; do with him as you think fit." ogier, without replying, seized charlot by the hair, forced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand his irresistible sword. charlemagne, who expected to see the head of his son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry of horror. ogier had done enough. the next moment he raised charlot, cut his bonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at the feet of the emperor. nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of charlemagne at seeing his son unharmed and ogier kneeling at his feet. he folded him in his arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "i feel at this moment that ogier is greater than i." as for charlot, his base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he remained such as he had been, and it was not till some years afterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the hands of huon of bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter. ogier, the dane (continued) when charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was surprised to observe that ogier appeared in good case, and had a healthy color in his cheeks. he turned to the archbishop, who could not help blushing as he met his eye. "by the head of bertha, my queen," said charlemagne, "ogier has had good quarters in your castle, my lord archbishop; but so much the more am i indebted to you." all the barons laughed and jested with turpin, who only said, "laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part i am not sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on the proud saracen." charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the challenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter. the proud and crafty bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the reply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certain resources besides his natural strength and skill. however, he swore by mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreed upon. ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in excellent condition, for the good turpin had kept it faithfully; but it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion. charlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, except blanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of ogier bent their backs to the ground. in this embarrassment the archbishop remembered that the emperor had given beiffror to the abbot of st. faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demand him. monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at the abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the abbot. poor beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with the harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. he carried his head down, and trod heavily before charlemagne; but when he heard the voice of ogier he raised his head, he neighed, his eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force with which he pawed the ground. ogier caressed him, and the good steed seemed to return his caresses; ogier mounted him, and beiffror, proud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with all his youthful vigor. nothing being now wanted, charlemagne, at the head of his army, marched forth from the city of paris, and occupied the hill of montmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of st. denis, where the battle was to be fought. when the appointed day came the dukes namo and salomon, as seconds of ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists, and bruhier, with two distinguished emirs, presented himself on the other side. bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he advanced, upon the appearance of beiffror. "is that the horse they presume to match with marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed in the vales of mount atlas?" but now the combatants, having met and saluted each other, ride apart to come together in full career. beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary more than half-way. the lances of the two combatants were shivered at the shock, and bruhier was astonished to see almost at the same instant the sword of ogier gleaming above his head. he parried it with his buckler, and gave ogier a blow on his helmet, who returned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by the temper of his blade, for it cut away part of bruhier's helmet, and with it his ear and part of his cheek. ogier, seeing the blood, did not immediately repeat his blow, and bruhier seized the moment to gallop off at one side. as he rode he took a vase of gold which hung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the wounded part. the blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh were restored quite whole, and the dane was astonished to see his antagonist return to the ground as sound as ever. bruhier laughed at his amazement. "know," said he, "that i possess the precious balm that joseph of arimathea used upon the body of the crucified one, whom you worship. if i should lose an arm i could restore it with a few drops of this. it is useless for you to contend with me. yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a strong fellow, i will make you first oarsman in one of my galleys." ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the assistance of heaven. "o lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not the enemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that which owes all its virtue to thy divine blood." at these words he attacked bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struck terrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowed from those of ogier, while bruhier stanched his by the application of his balm. ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, grasped cortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that it cleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but bruhier at the same time launched one at ogier, which, missing him, struck the head of beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his master in his fall. bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and apply his balsam; then, before ogier had recovered his footing, he rushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction. charlemagne, from the height of montmartre, seeing the brave ogier in this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against providence; but the good turpin, raising his arms, with a faith like that of moses, drew down upon the christian warrior the favor of heaven. ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed bruhier with so much impetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to whose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon charlemagne saw ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his enemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his sword, strike his head from his body. after the victory, ogier seized marchevallee, leaped upon his back, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from which closed his wounds and restored his strength. the french knights who had been bruhier's captives, now released, pressed round ogier to thank him for their deliverance. charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was relieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevated position an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. they attributed it at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise of arms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced, disclosed to them the fact that bruhier's army was attacked by a new enemy. the emperor was right; it was the brave carahue of mauritania, who, with an army, had arrived in france, resolved to attempt the liberation of ogier, his brother in arms. learning on his arrival the changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal service to the emperor, by attacking the army of bruhier in the midst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of its commander. ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon marchevallee, flew to aid his attack. charlemagne followed with his army; and the saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was forced to surrender unconditionally. the interview of ogier and carahue was such as might be anticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights. charlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the king of mauritania on his right and ogier on his left, returned with triumph to paris. there the empress bertha and the ladies of her court crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallant eginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the emperor, wrote all these great events in his history. a few days after guyon, king of denmark, arrived in france with a chosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to charlemagne, to say that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as the best knight of the time and the head of the christian world. charlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting his horse, rode forward to meet the king of denmark. these great princes, being assembled at the court of charles, held council together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to join it. it was decided that the united danish and mauritanian armies should cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the saracens, and that a thousand french knights should range themselves under the banner of ogier, the dane, who, though not a king, should have equal rank with the two others. we have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed by ogier and his allies in this war. suffice it to say, they subdued the saracens of ptolemais and judaea, and, erecting those regions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of ogier. guyon and carahue then left him, to return to their respective dominions. ogier adopted walter, the son of guyon of denmark, to be his successor in his kingdom. he superintended his education, and saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. but ogier, in spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the court of charlemagne, the duke namo, and salomon of brittany, for whom he had the respect and attachment of a son. at last, finding walter old enough to sustain the weight of government, ogier caused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by one squire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return to france. the vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness of a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer obeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which stretched into the sea. this was a mountain of loadstone, and, its attractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel at last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was dashed to pieces on its rocky base. ogier alone saved himself, and reached the shore on a fragment of the wreck. ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of inhabitancy, but found none. on a sudden he encountered two monstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied by a horse breathing fire. ogier drew his sword and prepared to defend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, made no attempt to assail him, and the horse, papillon, knelt down, and appeared to court ogier to mount upon his back. ogier hesitated not to see the adventure through; he mounted papillon, who ran with speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmed in and concealed a beautiful landscape. he continued his course till he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing ogier time to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with colonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through alleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the enamelled turf of a fountain. ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the stream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as they paint the graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. at the same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its own accord. the young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placed upon his head a crown of flowers. at that instant the danish hero lost his memory; his combats, his glory, charlemagne and his court, all vanished from his mind; he saw only morgana, he desired nothing but to sigh forever at her feet. we abridge the narrative of all the delights which ogier enjoyed for more than a hundred years. time flew by, leaving no impression of its flight. morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and ogier had none of those warnings of increasing years which less favored mortals never fail to receive. there is no knowing how long this blissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for an accident, by which morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatched the crown from his head. that moment ogier regained his memory, and lost his contentment. the recollection of charlemagne, and of his own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passed with morgana. the fairy saw with grief the changed looks of her lover. at last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wished to go, at least for a time, to revisit charles's court. she consented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped to reinvest him with his armor. papillon was led forth, ogier mounted him, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful morgana, crossed at rapid speed the rocky belt which separated morgana's palace from the borders of the sea. the sea-goblins which had received him at his coming awaited him on the shore. one of them took ogier on his back, and the other placing himself under papillon, they spread their broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space that separates the isle of avalon from france. they landed ogier on the coast of languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and disappeared. ogier remounted on papillon, who carried him across the kingdom almost as fast as he had passed the sea. he arrived under the walls of paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if the high towers of st. genevieve had not caught his eye. he went straight to the palace of charlemagne, which seemed to him to have been entirely rebuilt. his surprise was extreme, and increased still more on finding that he understood with difficulty the language of the guards and attendants in replying to his questions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to one another the language in which he addressed them. presently the attention of some of the barons who were going to court was attracted to the scene, and ogier, who recognized the badges of their rank, addressed them, and inquired if the dukes namo and salomon were still residing at the emperor's court. at this question the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one of the eldest said to the rest, "how much this knight resembles the portrait of my grand-uncle, ogier the dane." "ah! my dear nephew, i am ogier the dane," said he; and he remembered that morgana had told him that he was little aware of the flight of time during his abode with her. the barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to the monarch who then reigned, the great hugh capet. the brave ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when, on reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his obeisance to the king of france, he was astonished to see a man of short stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble and martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seen charlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time. ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness. hugh capet was slow to believe him; but ogier recalled so many proofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize the aged warrior to be the famous ogier the dane. the king informed ogier of the events which had taken place during his long absence; that the line of charlemagne was extinct; that a new dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom, the saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time an army of those miscreants was besieging the city of chartres, to which he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. ogier, always inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of his arm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and conducted him to the queen. the astonishment of ogier was redoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of the ladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on their foreheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so much grace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. his admiration increased when, instead of the old empress bertha, he saw a young queen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time of life, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all hearts. ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so profound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or at least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from paris, who retained the manners of what they called the old court. when the queen was informed by her husband that it was the celebrated ogier the dane whom he presented to her, whose memorable exploits she had often read in the chronicles of antiquity, her surprise was extreme, which was increased when she remarked the dignity of his address, the animation and even the youthfulness of his countenance. this queen had too much intelligence to believe hastily; proof alone could compel her assent; and she asked him many questions about the old court of charlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate answers as removed every doubt. it is to the corrections which ogier was at that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of his exploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy and trustworthiness of all the details of our own history. king hugh capet, having received that same evening couriers from the inhabitants of chartres, informing him that they were hard pressed by the besiegers, resolved to hasten with ogier to their relief. ogier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so often done others. the saracens having dared to offer battle, he bore the oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; papillon, breathing fire from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, and cortana, wielded by his invincible arm, soon finished their overthrow. the king, victorious over the saracens, led back the danish hero to paris, where the deliverer of france received the honors due to his valor. ogier continued some time at the court, detained by the favor of the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain to witness the death of the king. then it was that, impressed with all the perfections which he had discerned in the queen, he could not withhold the tender homage of the offer of his hand. the queen would perhaps have accepted it, she had even called a meeting of her great barons to deliberate on the proposition, when, the day before the meeting was to be held, at the moment when ogier was kneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of gold which an invisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant a cloud enveloped ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. it was morgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what she beheld, who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell with her in the island of avalon. there, in company with the great king arthur of britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friend shall return to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless return with him, and share his triumph. glossary abdalrahman, founder of the independent ommiad (saracenic) power in spain, conquered at tours by charles martel aberfraw, scene of nuptials of branwen and matholch absyrtus, younger brother of medea abydos, a town on the hellespont, nearly opposite to sestos abyla, mount, or columna, a mountain in morocco, near ceuta, now called jebel musa or ape's hill, forming the northwestern extremity of the african coast opposite gibraltar (see pillars of hercules) acestes, son of a trojan woman who was sent by her father to sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the territory of troy acetes, bacchanal captured by pentheus achates, faithful friend and companion of aeneas achelous, river-god of the largest river in greece--his horn of plenty achilles, the hero of the iliad, son of peleus and of the nereid thetis, slain by paris acis, youth loved by galatea and slain by polyphemus acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with cydippe, the daughter of a noble athenian. acrisius, son of abas, king of argos, grandson of lynceus, the great-grandson of danaus. actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of aristaeus and autonoe, who, having seen diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by his own dogs. admeta, daughter of eurystheus, covets hippolyta's girdle. admetus, king of thessaly, saved from death by alcestis adonis, a youth beloved by aphrodite (venus), and proserpine; killed by a boar. adrastus, a king of argos. aeacus, son of zeus (jupiter) and aegina, renowned in all greece for his justice and piety. aeaea, circe's island, visited by ulysses. aeetes, or aeeta, son of helios (the sun) and perseis, and father of medea and absyrtus. aegeus, king of athens. aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the saronic gulf. aegis, shield or breastplate of jupiter and minerva. aegisthus, murderer of agamemnon, slain by orestes. aeneas, trojan hero, son of anchises and aphrodite (venus), and born on mount ida, reputed first settler of rome, aeneid, poem by virgil, relating the wanderings of aeneas from troy to italy, ae'olus, son of hellen and the nymph orseis, represented in homer as the happy ruler of the aeolian islands, to whom zeus had given dominion over the winds, aesculapius, god of the medical art, aeson, father of jason, made young again by medea, aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of egypt, aethra, mother of theseus by aegeus, aetna, volcano in sicily, agamedes, brother of trophonius, distinguished as an architect, agamemnon, son of plisthenis and grandson of atreus, king of mycenae, although the chief commander of the greeks, is not the hero of the iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to achilles, agave, daughter of cadmus, wife of echion, and mother of pentheus, agenor, father of europa, cadmus, cilix, and phoenix, aglaia, one of the graces, agni, hindu god of fire, agramant, a king in africa, agrican, fabled king of tartary, pursuing angelica, finally killed by orlando, agrivain, one of arthur's knights, ahriman, the evil spirit in the dual system of zoroaster, see ormuzd ajax, son of telamon, king of salamis, and grandson of aeacus, represented in the iliad as second only to achilles in bravery, alba, the river where king arthur fought the romans, alba longa, city in italy founded by son of aeneas, alberich, dwarf guardian of rhine gold treasure of the nibelungs albracca, siege of, alcestis, wife of admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her husband, but rescued by hercules, alcides (hercules), alcina, enchantress, alcinous, phaeacian king, alcippe, daughter of mars, carried off by halirrhothrus, alcmena, wife of jupiter, and mother of hercules, alcuin, english prelate and scholar, aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, alecto, one of the furies, alexander the great, king of macedonia, conqueror of greece, egypt, persia, babylonia, and india, alfadur, a name for odin, alfheim, abode of the elves of light, alice, mother of huon and girard, sons of duke sevinus, alphenor, son of niobe, alpheus, river god pursuing arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a fountain, althaea, mother of meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of thestius," her father, amalthea, nurse of the infant jupiter in crete, amata, wife of latinus, driven mad by alecto, amaury of hauteville, false hearted knight of charlemagne, amazons, mythical race of warlike women, ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, ammon, egyptian god of life identified by romans with phases of jupiter, the father of gods, amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at argos, amphion, a musician, son of jupiter and antiope (see dirce), amphitrite, wife of neptune, amphyrsos, a small river in thessaly, ampyx, assailant of perseus, turned to stone by seeing gorgon's head, amrita, nectar giving immortality, amun, see ammon amymone, one of the fifty daughters of danaus, and mother by poseidon (neptune) of nauplius, the father of palamedes, anaxarete, a maiden of cyprus, who treated her lover iphis with such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, anbessa, saracenic governor of spain ( ad), anceus, one of the argonauts, anchises, beloved by aphrodite (venus), by whom he became the father of aeneas, andraemon, husband of dryope, saw her changed into a tree, andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon tristram, andromache, wife of hector andromeda, daughter of king cephas, delivered from monster by perseus aneurin, welsh bard angelica, princess of cathay anemone, short lived wind flower, created by venus from the blood of the slain adonis angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of fenris, hela and the midgard serpent anglesey, a northern british island, refuge of druids fleeing from romans antaeus, giant wrestler of libya, killed by hercules, who, finding him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and strangled him antea, wife of jealous proetus antenor, descendants of, in italy anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of eros (cupid) anthor, a greek antigone, daughter of aedipus, greek ideal of filial and sisterly fidelity antilochus, son of nestor antiope, amazonian queen. see dirce anubis, egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment apennines aphrodite see venus, dione, etc. apis, egyptian bull god of memphis apollo, god of music and song apollo belvedere, famous antique statue in vatican at rome apples of the hesperides, wedding gifts to juno, guarded by daughters of atlas and hesperis, stolen by atlas for hercules, aquilo, or boreas, the north wind, aquitaine, ancient province of southwestern france, arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by minerva for daring to compete with her, arcadia, a country in the middle of peloponnesus, surrounded on all sides by mountains, arcady, star of, the pole star, arcas, son of jupiter and callisto, archer, constellation of the, areopagus, court of the, at athens, ares, called mars by the romans, the greek god of war, and one of the great olympian gods, arethusa, nymph of diana, changed to a fountain, argius king of ireland, father of isoude the fair, argo, builder of the vessel of jason for the argonautic expedition, argolis, city of the nemean games, argonauts, jason's crew seeking the golden fleece, argos, a kingdom in greece, argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of io, ariadne, daughter of king minos, who helped theseus slay the minotaur, arimanes see ahriman. arimaspians, one-eyed people of syria, arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to land, aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with eurydice, armorica, another name for britain, arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by orlando, artemis see diana arthgallo, brother of elidure, british king, arthur, king in britain about the th century, aruns, an etruscan who killed camilla, asgard, home of the northern gods, ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring rinaldo to death, aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, astolpho of england, one of charlemagne's knights, astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of astraeus and eos, astyages, an assailant of perseus, astyanax, son of hector of troy, established kingdom of messina in italy, asuias, opponents of the braminical gods, atalanta, beautiful daughter of king of icaria, loved and won in a foot race by hippomenes, ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, athamas, son of aeolus and enarete, and king of orchomenus, in boeotia, see ino athene, tutelary goddess of athens, the same as minerva, athens, the capital of attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers cephissus and ilissus, athor, egyptian deity, progenitor of isis and osiris, athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called acte, which projects from chalcidice in macedonia, atlantes, foster father of rogero, a powerful magician, atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the pillars of hercules, in the ocean, opposite mount atlas, atlas, a titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of iapetus, atlas, mount, general name for range in northern africa, atropos, one of the fates attica, a state in ancient greece, audhumbla, the cow from which the giant ymir was nursed. her milk was frost melted into raindrops, augean stables, cleansed by hercules, augeas, king of elis, augustan age, reign of roman emperor augustus caesar, famed for many great authors, augustus, the first imperial caesar, who ruled the roman empire bc-- ad, aulis, port in boeotia, meeting place of greek expedition against troy, aurora, identical with eos, goddess of the dawn, aurora borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called northern lights, probably electrical, autumn, attendant of phoebus, the sun, avalon, land of the blessed, an earthly paradise in the western seas, burial place of king arthur, avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of vishnu, the preserver (hindu god), aventine, mount, one of the seven hills of rome, avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between cumae and puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, avicenna, celebrated arabian physician and philosopher, aya, mother of rinaldo, aymon, duke, father of rinaldo and bradamante, b baal, king of tyre, babylonian river, dried up when phaeton drove the sun chariot, bacchanali a, a feast to bacchus that was permitted to occur but once in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of bacchus, bacchus (dionysus), god of wine and revelry, badon, battle of, arthur's final victory over the saxons, bagdemagus, king, a knight of arthur's time, baldur, son of odin, and representing in norse mythology the sun god, balisardo, orlando's sword, ban, king of brittany, ally of arthur, father of launcelot, bards, minstrels of welsh druids, basilisk see cockatrice baucis, wife of philemon, visited by jupiter and mercury, bayard, wild horse subdued by rinaldo, beal, druids' god of life, bedivere, arthur's knight, bedver, king arthur's butler, made governor of normandy, bedwyr, knightly comrade of geraint, belisarda, rogero's sword, bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the chimaera, bellona, the roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of mars, beltane, druidical fire festival, belus, son of poseidon (neptune) and libya or eurynome, twin brother of agenor, bendigeid vran, king of britain, beowulf, hero and king of the swedish geats, beroe, nurse of semele, bertha, mother of orlando, bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and asgard bladud, inventor, builder of the city of bath, blamor, a knight of arthur, bleoberis, a knight of arthur, boeotia, state in ancient greece, capital city thebes, bohort, king, a knight of arthur, bona dea, a roman divinity of fertility, bootes, also called areas, son of jupiter and calisto, changed to constellation of ursa major, boreas, north wind, son of aeolus and aurora, bosporus (bosphorus), the cow-ford, named for io, when as a heifer she crossed that strait, bradamante, sister to rinaldo, a female warrior, brademagus, king, father of sir maleagans, bragi, norse god of poetry, brahma, the creator, chief god of hindu religion, branwen, daughter of llyr, king of britain, wife of mathclch, breciliande, forest of, where vivian enticed merlin, brengwain, maid of isoude the fair brennus, son of molmutius, went to gaul, became king of the allobroges, breuse, the pitiless, a caitiff knight, briareus, hundred armed giant, brice, bishop, sustainer of arthur when elected king, brigliadoro, orlando's horse, briseis, captive maid belonging to achilles, britto, reputed ancestor of british people, bruhier, sultan of arabia, brunello, dwarf, thief, and king brunhild, leader of the valkyrie, brutus, great grandson of aeneas, and founder of city of new troy (london), see pandrasus bryan, sir, a knight of arthur, buddha, called the enlightened, reformer of brahmanism, deified teacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, karma (inevitable sequence of every act), and nirvana (beatific absorption into the divine), lived about byblos, in egypt, byrsa, original site of carthage, c cacus, gigantic son of vulcan, slain by hercules, whose captured cattle he stole, cadmus, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and of telephassa, and brother of europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by jupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five, who helped cadmus to found the city of thebes, caduceus, mercury's staff, cadwallo, king of venedotia (north wales), caerleon, traditional seat of arthur's court, caesar, julius, roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated roman territory, making possible the empire, caicus, a greek river, cairns, druidical store piles, calais, french town facing england, calchas, wisest soothsayer among the greeks at troy, caliburn, a sword of arthur, calliope, one of the nine muses callisto, an arcadian nymph, mother of arcas (see bootes), changed by jupiter to constellation ursa minor, calpe, a mountain in the south of spain, on the strait between the atlantic and mediterranean, now rock of gibraltar, calydon, home of meleager, calypso, queen of island of ogyia, where ulysses was wrecked and held seven years, camber, son of brutus, governor of west albion (wales), camelot, legendary place in england where arthur's court and palace were located, camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient italy, camilla, volscian maiden, huntress and amazonian warrior, favorite of diana, camlan, battle of, where arthur was mortally wounded, canterbury, english city, capaneus, husband of evadne, slain by jupiter for disobedience, capet, hugh, king of france ( - ad), caradoc briefbras, sir, great nephew of king arthur, carahue, king of mauretania, carthage, african city, home of dido cassandra, daughter of priam and hecuba, and twin sister of helenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the greeks but was not believed, cassibellaunus, british chieftain, fought but not conquered by caesar, cassiopeia, mother of andromeda, castalia, fountain of parnassus, giving inspiration to oracular priestess named pythia, castalian cave, oracle of apollo, castes (india), castor and pollux--the dioscuri, sons of jupiter and leda,-- castor a horseman, pollux a boxer (see gemini), caucasus, mount cavall, arthur's favorite dog, cayster, ancient river, cebriones, hector's charioteer, cecrops, first king of athens, celestials, gods of classic mythology, celeus, shepherd who sheltered ceres, seeking proserpine, and whose infant son triptolemus was in gratitude made great by ceres, cellini, benvenuto, famous italian sculptor and artificer in metals, celtic nations, ancient gauls and britons, modern bretons, welsh, irish and gaelic scotch, centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting mount pelion in thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men, and said to have been the offspring of ixion and a cloud, cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous procris, cephe us, king of ethiopians, father of andromeda, cephisus, a grecian stream, cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to hades, called a son of typhaon and echidna ceres (see demeter) cestus, the girdle of venus ceyx, king of thessaly (see halcyone) chaos, original confusion, personified by greeks as most ancient of the gods charlemagne, king of the franks and emperor of the romans charles martel', king of the franks, grandfather of charlemagne, called martel (the hammer) from his defeat of the saracens at tours charlot, son of charlemagne charon, son of erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world charyb'dis, whirlpool near the coast of sicily, see scylla chimaera, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of a goat, slain by bellerophon china, lamas (priests) of chos, island in the grecian archipelago chiron, wisest of all the centaurs, son of cronos (saturn) and philyra, lived on mount pelion, instructor of grecian heroes chryseis, trojan maid, taken by agamemnon chryses, priest of apollo, father of chryseis ciconians, inhabitants of ismarus, visited by ulysses cimbri, an ancient people of central europe cimmeria, a land of darkness cimon, athenian general circe, sorceress, sister of aeetes cithaeron, mount, scene of bacchic worship clarimunda, wife of huon clio, one of the muses cloridan, a moor clotho, one of the fates clymene, an ocean nymph clytemnestra, wife of agamemnon, killed by orestes clytie, a water nymph, in love with apollo cnidos, ancient city of asia minor, seat of worship of aphrodite (venus) cockatrice (or basilisk), called king of serpents, supposed to kill with its look cocytus, a river of hades colchis, a kingdom east of the black sea colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of homer columba, st, an irish christian missionary to druidical parts of scotland conan, welsh king constantine, greek emperor cordeilla, daughter of the mythical king leir corineus, a trojan warrior in albion cornwall, southwest part of britain cortana, ogier's sword corybantes, priests of cybele, or rhea, in phrygia, who celebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, crab, constellation cranes and their enemies, the pygmies, of ibycus creon, king of thebes crete, one of the largest islands of the mediterranean sea, lying south of the cyclades creusa, daughter of priam, wife of aeneas crocale, a nymph of diana cromlech, druidical altar cronos, see saturn crotona, city of italy cuchulain, irish hero, called the "hound of ireland," culdees', followers of st. columba, cumaean sibyl, seeress of cumae, consulted by aeneas, sold sibylline books to tarquin cupid, child of venus and god of love curoi of kerry, wise man cyane, river, opposed pluto's passage to hades cybele (rhea) cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom homer speaks as a gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in sicily, who devoured human beings, they helped vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of zeus under aetna cymbeline, king of ancient britain cynosure (dog's tail), the pole star, at tail of constellation ursa minor cynthian mountain top, birthplace of artemis (diana) and apollo cyprus, island off the coast of syria, sacred to aphrodite cyrene, a nymph, mother of aristaeus daedalus, architect of the cretan labyrinth, inventor of sails daguenet, king arthur's fool dalai lama, chief pontiff of thibet danae, mother of perseus by jupiter danaides, the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who were betrothed to the fifty sons of aegyptus, but were commanded by their father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night danaus (see danaides) daphne, maiden loved by apollo, and changed into a laurel tree dardanelles, ancient hellespont dardanus, progenitor of the trojan kings dardinel, prince of zumara dawn, see aurora day, an attendant on phoebus, the sun day star (hesperus) death, see hela deiphobus, son of priam and hecuba, the bravest brother of paris dejanira, wife of hercules delos, floating island, birthplace of apollo and diana delphi, shrine of apollo, famed for its oracles demeter, greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by romans with ceres demeha, south wales demodocus, bard of alomous, king of the phaeaeians deucalion, king of thessaly, who with his wife pyrrha were the only pair surviving a deluge sent by zeus dia, island of diana (artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of jupiter and latona diana of the hind, antique sculpture in the louvre, paris diana, temple of dictys, a sailor didier, king of the lombards dido, queen of tyre and carthage, entertained the shipwrecked aeneas diomede, greek hero during trojan war dione, female titan, mother of zeus, of aphrodite (venus) dionysus see bacchus dioscuri, the twins (see castor and pollux) dirce, wife of lycus, king of thebes, who ordered amphion and zethus to tie antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning antiope to be their mother, so treated dirce herself dis see pluto discord, apple of, see eris. discordia, see eris. dodona, site of an oracle of zeus (jupiter) dorceus, a dog of diana doris, wife of nereus dragon's teeth sown by cadmus druids, ancient celtic priests dryades (or dryads), see wood nymphs dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form of the nymph lotis dubricius, bishop of caerleon, dudon, a knight, comrade of astolpho, dunwallo molmu'tius, british king and lawgiver durindana, sword of orlando or rinaldo dwarfs in wagner's nibelungen ring e earth (gaea); goddess of the ebudians, the echo, nymph of diana, shunned by narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice ecklenlied, the eddas, norse mythological records, ederyn, son of nudd egena, nymph of the fountain eisteddfod, session of welsh bards and minstrels electra, the lost one of the pleiades, also, sister of orestes eleusian mysteries, instituted by ceres, and calculated to awaken feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future eleusis, grecian city elgin marbles, greek sculptures from the parthenon of athens, now in british museum, london, placed there by lord elgin eliaures, enchanter elidure, a king of britain elis, ancient greek city elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against thor elphin, son of gwyddiro elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil, some good elvidnir, the ball of hela elysian fields, the land of the blest elysian plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram. hither favored heroes, like menelaus, pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. in the latin poets elysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed embla, the first woman enseladus, giant defeated by jupiter endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by diana enid, wife of geraint enna, vale of home of proserpine enoch, the patriarch epidaurus, a town in argolis, on the saronic gulf, chief seat of the worship of aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town epimetheus, son of iapetus, husband of pandora, with his brother prometheus took part in creation of man epirus, country to the west of thessaly, lying along the adriatic sea epopeus, a sailor erato, one of the muses erbin of cornwall, father of geraint erebus, son of chaos, region of darkness, entrance to hades eridanus, river erinys, one of the furies eriphyle, sister of polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her husband was slain eris (discordia), goddess of discord. at the wedding of peleus and thetis, eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "for the fairest," which was claimed by hera (juno), aphrodite (venus) and athena (minerva) paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to aphrodite erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine eros see cupid erytheia, island eryx, a mount, haunt of venus esepus, river in paphlagonia estrildis, wife of locrine, supplanting divorced guendolen eteocles, son of oeipus and jocasta etruscans, ancient people of italy, etzel, king of the huns euboic sea, where hercules threw lichas, who brought him the poisoned shirt of nessus eude, king of aquitaine, ally of charles martel eumaeus, swineherd of aeeas eumenides, also called erinnyes, and by the romans furiae or diraae, the avenging deities, see furies euphorbus, a trojan, killed by menelaus euphros'yne, one of the graces europa, daughter of the phoenician king agenor, by zeus the mother of minos, rhadamanthus, and sarpedon eurus, the east wind euyalus, a gallant trojan soldier, who with nisus entered the grecian camp, both being slain, eurydice, wife of orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by a snake and borne to tartarus, where orpheus sought her and was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her following him, but he did, and she returned to the shades, eurylochus, a companion of ulysses, eurynome, female titan, wife of ophlon eurystheus, taskmaster of hercules, eurytion, a centaur (see hippodamia), euterpe, muse who presided over music, evadne, wife of capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and perished with him evander, arcadian chief, befriending aeneas in italy, evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of branwen, excalibar, sword of king arthur, f fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the solar theory simply the darkness who steals the day, falerina, an enchantress, fasolt, a giant, brother of fafner, and killed by him, "fasti," ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, fata morgana, a mirage fates, the three, described as daughters of night--to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of zeus and themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were clo'tho, who spun the thread of life, lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and at'ropos, who cut it off fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail faunus, son of picus, grandson of saturnus, and father of latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and also as a giver of oracles favonius, the west wind fear fenris, a wolf, the son of loki the evil principle of scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except when chained fensalir, freya's palace, called the hall of the sea, where were brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by death ferragus, a giant, opponent of orlando ferrau, one of charlemagne's knights ferrex. brother of porrex, the two sons of leir fire worshippers, of ancient persia, see parsees flollo, roman tribune in gaul flora, roman goddess of flowers and spring flordelis, fair maiden beloved by florismart florismart, sir, a brave knight, flosshilda, one of the rhine daughters fortunate fields fortunate islands (see elysian plain) forum, market place and open square for public meetings in rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc francus, son of histion, grandson of japhet, great grandson of noah, legendary ancestor of the franks, or french freki, one of odin's two wolves frey, or freyr, god of the sun freya, norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers fricka, goddess of marriage frigga, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine, rain, and harvest froh, one of the norse gods fronti'no, rogero's horse furies (erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named alecto, megaeira, and tisiphone fusberta, rinaldo's sword g gaea, or ge, called tellus by the romans, the personification of the earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom chaos, and gave birth to uranus (heaven) and pontus (sea) gahariet, knight of arthur's court gaheris, knight galafron, king of cathay, father of angelica galahad, sir, the pure knight of arthur's round table, who safely took the siege perilous (which see) galatea, a nereid or sea nymph galatea, statue carved and beloved by pygmalion galen, greek physician and philosophical writer gallehant, king of the marches games, national athletic contests in greece--olympian, at olympia, pythian, near delphi, seat of apollo's oracle, isthmian, on the corinthian isthmus, nemean, at nemea in argolis gan, treacherous duke of maganza ganelon of mayence, one of charlemagne's knights ganges, river in india gano, a peer of charlemagne ganymede, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to olympus that he might fill the cup of zeus and live among the immortal gods gareth, arthur's knight gaudisso, sultan gaul, ancient france gautama, prince, the buddha gawain, arthur's knight gawl, son of clud, suitor for rhiannon gemini (see castor), constellation created by jupiter from the twin brothers after death, genghis khan, tartar conqueror genius, in roman belief, the protective spirit of each individual man, see juno geoffrey of mon'mouth, translator into latin of the welsh history of the kings of britain ( ) geraint, a knight of king arthur gerda, wife of frey geri, one of odin's two wolves geryon, a three bodied monster gesnes, navigator sent for isoude the fair giallar horn, the trumpet that heimdal will blow at the judgment day giants, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in wagner's nibelungen ring gibichung race, ancestors of alberich gibraltar, great rock and town at southwest corner of spain (see pillars of hercules) gildas, a scholar of arthur's court girard, son of duke sevinus glastonbury, where arthur died glaucus, a fisherman, loving scylla gleipnir, magical chain on the wolf fenris glewlwyd, arthur's porter golden fleece, of ram used for escape of children of athamas, named helle and phryxus (which see), after sacrifice of ram to jupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by jason and argonauts (which see, also helle) goneril, daughter of leir gordian knot, tying up in temple the wagon of gordius, he who could untie it being destined to be lord of asia, it was cut by alexander the great, gordius, a countryman who, arriving in phrygia in a wagon, was made king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, medusa, the most famous, slain by perseus gorlois, duke of tintadel gouvernail, squire of isabella, queen of lionesse, protector of her son tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood graal, the holy, cup from which the saviour drank at last supper, taken by joseph of arimathea to europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a sacred quest for arthur's knights graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by refinement and gentleness; they were aglaia (brilliance), euphrosyne (joy), and thalia (bloom) gradas'so, king of sericane graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the gorgons, with one movable eye and one tooth between the three grand lama, buddhist pontiff in thibet grendel, monster slain by beowulf gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the rhipaean mountains, between the hyperboreans and the one eyed arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the north, guebers, persian fire worshippers, guendolen, wife of locrine, guenevere, wife of king arthur, beloved by launcelot, guerin, lord of vienne, father of oliver, guiderius, son of cymbeline, guillamurius, king in ireland, guimier, betrothed of caradoc, gullinbursti, the boar drawing frey's car, gulltopp, heimdell's horse, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, ganther, burgundian king, brother of kriemhild, gutrune, half sister to hagen, gwern son of matholch and branwen, gwernach the giant, gwiffert petit, ally of geraint, gwyddno, garanhir, king of gwaelod, gwyr, judge in the court of arthur, gyoll, river, h hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, haemon, son of creon of thebes, and lover of antigone, haemonian city, haemus, mount, northern boundary of thrace, hagan, a principal character in the nibelungen lied, slayer of siegfried, halcyone, daughter of aeneas, and the beloved wife of ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather") hamadryads, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, see nymphs harmonia, daughter of mars and venus, wife of cadmus haroun al raschid, caliph of arabia, contemporary of charlemagne harpies, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food harpocrates, egyptian god, horus hebe, daughter of juno, cupbearer to the gods hebrus, ancient name of river maritzka hecate, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world hector, son of priam and champion of troy hector, one of arthur's knights hector de marys', a knight hecuba, wife of priam, king of troy, to whom she bore hector, paris, and many other children hegira, flight of mahomet from mecca to medina ( ad), era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ heidrun, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in valhalla heimdall, watchman of the gods hel, the lower world of scandinavia, to which were consigned those who had not died in battle hela (death), the daughter of loki and the mistress of the scandinavian hel helen, daughter of jupiter and leda, wife of menelaus, carried off by paris and cause of the trojan war helenus, son of priam and hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers heliades, sisters of phaeton helicon, mount, in greece, residence of apollo and the muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, aganippe and hippocrene helioopolis, city of the sun, in egypt hellas, gieece helle, daughter of thessalian king athamas, who, escaping from cruel father with her brother phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (see golden fleece) hellespont, narrow strait between europe and asia minor, named for helle hengist, saxon invader of britain, ad hephaestos, see vulcan hera, called juno by the romans, a daughter of cronos (saturn) and rhea, and sister and wife of jupiter, see juno hercules, athletic hero, son of jupiter and alcmena, achieved twelve vast labors and many famous deeds hereward the wake, hero of the saxons hermes (mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally hermione, daughter of menelaus and helen hermod, the nimble, son of odin hero, a priestess of venus, beloved of leander herodotus, greek historian hesiod, greek poet hesperia, ancient name for italy hesperides (see apples of the hesperides) hesperus, the evening star (also called day star) hestia, cilled vesta by the romans, the goddess of the hearth hildebrand, german magician and champion hindu triad, brahma, vishnu, and siva hippocrene (see helicon) hippodamia, wife of pirithous, at whose wedding the centaurs offered violence to the bride, causing a great battle hippogriff, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws hippolyta, queen of the amazons hippolytus, son of thesus hippomenes, who won atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden apples thrown for her to histion, son of japhet hodur, blind man, who, fooled by loki, threw a mistletoe twig at baldur, killing him hoel, king of brittany homer, the blind poet of greece, about b c hope (see pandora) horae see hours horsa, with hengist, invader of britain horus, egyptian god of the sun houdain, tristram's dog hringham, baldur's ship hrothgar, king of denmark hugi, who beat thialfi in foot races hugin, one of odin's two ravens hunding, husband of sieglinda huon, son of duke sevinus hyacinthus, a youth beloved by apollo, and accidentally killed by him, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth hyades, nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant bacchus, rewarded by being placed as cluster of stars in the heavens hyale, a nymph of diana hydra, nine headed monster slain by hercules hygeia, goddess of health, daughter of aesculapius hylas, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water hymen, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in bridal songs hymettus, mountain in attica, near athens, celebrated for its marble and its honey hyperboreans, people of the far north hyperion, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of helios, selene, and eos, cattle of, hyrcania, prince of, betrothed to clarimunda hyrieus, king in greece, i iapetus, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of atlas, prometheus, epimetheus, and menoetius, iasius, father of atalanta ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes icaria, island of the aegean sea, one of the sporades icarius, spartan prince, father of penelope icarus, son of daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea icelos, attendant of morpheus icolumkill see iona ida, mount, a trojan hill idaeus, a trojan herald idas, son of aphareus and arene, and brother of lynceus idu'na, wife of bragi igerne, wife of gorlois, and mother, by uther, of arthur iliad, epic poem of the trojan war, by homer ilioheus, a son of niobe ilium see troy illyria, adriatic countries north of greece imogen, daughter of pandrasus, wife of trojan brutus inachus, son of oceanus and tethys, and father of phoroneus and io, also first king of argos, and said to have given his name to the river inachus incubus, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep indra, hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain ino, wife of athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into the sea and was changed to leucothea io, changed to a heifer by jupiter iobates, king of lycia iolaus, servant of hercules iole, sister of dryope iona, or icolmkill, a small northern island near scotland, where st columba founded a missionary monastery ( ad) ionia, coast of asia minor iphigenia, daughter of agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried away by diana iphis, died for love of anaxarete, iphitas, friend of hercules, killed by him iris, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of juno and zeus ironside, arthur's knight isabella, daughter of king of galicia isis, wife of osiris, described as the giver of death isles of the blessed ismarus, first stop of ulysses, returning from trojan war isme'nos, a son of niobe, slain by apollo isolier, friend of rinaldo isoude the fair, beloved of tristram isoude of the white hands, married to tristram isthmian games, see games ithaca, home of ulysses and penelope iulus, son of aeneas ivo, saracen king, befriending rinaldo ixion, once a sovereign of thessaly, sentenced in tartarus to be lashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around j janiculum, roman fortress on the janiculus, a hill on the other side of the tiber janus, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the romans, temple of japhet (iapetus) jason, leader of the argonauts, seeking the golden fleece joseph of arimathea, who bore the holy graal to europe jotunheim, home of the giants in northern mythology jove (zeus), chief god of roman and grecian mythology, see jupiter joyous garde, residence of sir launcelot of the lake juggernaut, hindu deity juno, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (see genius) juno, wife of jupiter, queen of the gods jupiter, jovis pater, father jove, jupiter and jove used interchangeably, at dodona, statue of the olympian jupiter ammon (see ammon) jupiter capitolinus, temple of, preserving the sibylline books justice, see themis k kadyriath, advises king arthur kai, son of kyner kalki, tenth avatar of vishnu kay, arthur's steward and a knight kedalion, guide of orion kerman, desert of kicva, daughter of gwynn gloy kilwich, son of kilydd kilydd, son of prince kelyddon, of wales kneph, spirit or breath knights, training and life of kriemhild, wife of siegfried krishna, eighth avatar of vishnu, hindu deity of fertility in nature and mankind kyner, father of kav kynon, son of clydno l labyrinth, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the minotaur of crete, killed by theseus with aid of ariadne lachesis, one of the fates (which see) lady of the fountain, tale told by kynon laertes, father of ulysses laestrygonians, savages attacking ulysses laius, king of thebes lama, holy man of thibet lampetia, daughter of hyperion laoc'oon, a priest of neptune, in troy, who warned the trojans against the wooden horse (which see), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons, the people listened to the greek spy sinon, and brought the fatal horse into the town laodamia, daughter of acastus and wife of protesilaus laodegan, king of carmalide, helped by arthur and merlin laomedon, king of troy lapithae, thessalonians, whose king had invited the centaurs to his daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the bride lares, household deities larkspur, flower from the blood of ajax latinus, ruler of latium, where aeneas landed in italy latmos, mount, where diana fell in love with endymion latona, mother of apollo launcelot, the most famous knight of the round table lausus, son of mezentius, killed by aeneas lavinia, daughter of latinus and wife of aeneas lavinium, italian city named for lavinia law, see themis leander, a youth of abydos, who, swimming the hellespont to see hero, his love, was drowned lebadea, site of the oracle of trophomus lebynthos, aegean island leda, queen of sparta, wooed by jupiter in the form of a swan leir, mythical king of britain, original of shakespeare's lear lelaps, dog of cephalus lemnos, large island in the aegean sea, sacred to vulcan lemures, the spectres or spirits of the dead leo, roman emperor, greek prince lethe, river of hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness leucadia, a promontory, whence sappho, disappointed in love, was said to have thrown herself into the sea leucothea, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (see ino) lewis, son of charlemagne liber, ancient god of fruitfulness libethra, burial place of orpheus libya, greek name for continent of africa in general libyan desert, in africa libyan oasis lichas, who brought the shirt of nessus to hercules limours, earl of linus, musical instructor of hercules lionel, knight of the round table llyr, king of britain locrine, son of brutus in albion, king of central england loegria, kingdom of (england) logestilla, a wise lady, who entertained rogero and his friends logi, who vanquished loki in an eating contest loki, the satan of norse mythology, son of the giant farbanti lot, king, a rebel chief, subdued by king arthur, then a loyal knight lotis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by dryope lotus eaters, soothed to indolence, companions of ulysses landing among them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they would continue their voyage love (eros) issued from egg of night, and with arrows and torch produced life and joy lucan, one of arthur's knights lucius tiberius, roman procurator in britain demanding tribute from arthur lud, british king, whose capital was called lud's town (london) ludgate, city gate where lud was buried, luned, maiden who guided owain to the lady of the fountain lycahas, a turbulent sailor lycaon, son of priam lycia, a district in southern asia minor lycomodes, king of the dolopians, who treacherously slew theseus lycus, usurping king of thebes lynceus, one of the sons of aegyptus m mabinogeon, plural of mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the welsh mabon, son of modron machaon, son of aesculapius madan, son of guendolen madoc, a forester of king arthur mador, scottish knight maelgan, king who imprisoned elphin maeonia, ancient lydia magi, persian priests mahadeva, same as siva mahomet, great prophet of arabia, born in mecca, ad, proclaimed worship of god instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with arabian dominion, over vast regions in asia, africa, and spain in europe maia, daughter of atlas and pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the pleiades malagigi the enchanter, one of charlemagne's knights maleagans, false knight malvasius, king of iceland mambrino, with invisible helmet manawyd dan, brother of king vran, of london mandricardo, son of agrican mantua, in italy, birthplace of virgil manu, ancestor of mankind marathon, where theseus and pirithous met mark, king of cornwall, husband of isoude the fair maro see virgil marphisa, sister of rogero marsilius, spanish king, treacherous foe of charlemagne marsyas, inventor of the flute, who challenged apollo to musical competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive matsya, the fish, first avatar of vishnu meander, grecian river mede, a, princess and sorceress who aided jason medoro, a young moor, who wins angelica medusa, one of the gorgons megaera, one of the furies melampus, a spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers melanthus, steersman for bacchus meleager, one of the argonauts (see althaea) meliadus, king of lionesse, near cornwall melicertes, infant son of ino. changed to palaemon (see ino, leucothea, and palasmon) melissa, priestess at merlin's tomb melisseus, a cretan king melpomene, one of the muses memnon, the beautiful son of tithonus and eos (aurora), and king of the ethiopians, slain in trojan war memphis, egyptian city menelaus, son of king of sparta, husband of helen menoeceus, son of creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for his father mentor, son of alcimus and a faithful friend of ulysses mercury (see hermes) merlin, enchanter merope, daughter of king of chios, beloved by orion mesmerism, likened to curative oracle of aesculapius at epidaurus metabus, father of camilla metamorphoses, ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic mythology metanira, a mother, kind to ceres seeking proserpine metempsychosis, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women in forms of animals or human beings metis, prudence, a spouse of jupiter mezentius, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing aeneas in italy midas midgard, the middle world of the norsemen midgard serpent, a sea monster, child of loki milky way, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace of the gods milo, a great athlete mlon, father of orlando milton, john, great english poet, whose history of england is here largely used mime, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient german mythology minerva (athene), daughter of jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom minos, king of crete mino taur, monster killed by theseus mistletoe, fatal to baldur mnemosyne, one of the muses modesty, statue to modred, nephew of king arthur moly, plant, powerful against sorcery momus, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men monad, the "unit" of pythagoras monsters, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men montalban, rinaldo's castle month, the, attendant upon the sun moon, goddess of, see diana moraunt, knight, an irish champion morgana, enchantress, the lady of the lake in "orlando furioso," same as morgane le fay in tales of arthur morgane le fay, queen of norway, king arthur's sister, an enchantress morgan tud, arthur's chief physician morpheus, son of sleep and god of dreams morte d'arthur, romance, by sir thomas mallory mulciber, latin name of vulcan mull, island of munin, one of odin's two ravens musaeus, sacred poet, son of orpheus muses, the, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--calliope, epic poetry, clio, history, erato, love poetry, euterpe, lyric poetry; melpomene, tragedy, polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song terpsichore, choral song and dance, thalia, comedy and idyls, urania, astronomy muspelheim, the fire world of the norsemen mycenas, ancient grecian city, of which agamemnon was king myrddin (merlin) myrmidons, bold soldiers of achilles mysia, greek district on northwest coast of asia minor mythology, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples n naiads, water nymphs namo, duke of bavaria, one of charlemagne's knights nanna, wife of baldur nanters, british king nantes, site of caradoc's castle nape, a dog of diana narcissus, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water nausicaa, daughter of king alcinous, who befriended ulysses nausithous, king of phaeacians naxos, island of negus, king of abyssinia nemea, forest devastated by a lion killed by hercules nemean games, held in honor of jupiter and hercules nemean lion, killed by hercules nemesis, goddess of vengeance nennius, british combatant of caesar neoptolemus, son of achilles nepenthe, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress nephele, mother of phryxus and helle nephthys, egyptian goddess neptune, identical with poseidon, god of the sea nereids, sea nymphs, daughters of nereus and doris nereus, a sea god nessus, a centaur killed by hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a robe or shirt steeped in the blood of nessus, which poisoned him nestor, king of pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge of war nibelungen hoard, treasure seized by siegfried from the nibelungs, buried in the rhine by hagan after killing siegfried, and lost when hagan was killed by kriemhild, theme of wagner's four music dramas, "the ring of the nibelungen," nibelungen lied, german epic, giving the same nature myth as the norse volsunga saga, concerning the hoard nibelungen ring, wagner's music dramas nibelungs, the, a race of northern dwarfs nidhogge, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead niffleheim, mist world of the norsemen, the hades of absent spirits nile, egyptian river niobe, daughter of tantalus, proud queen of thebes, whose seven sons and seven daughters were killed by apollo and diana, at which amphion, her husband, killed himself, and niobe wept until she was turned to stone nisus, king of megara noah, as legendary ancestor of french, roman, german, and british peoples noman, name assumed by ulysses norns, the three scandinavian fates, urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), and skuld (the future) nothung, magic sword notus, southwest wind nox, daughter of chaos and sister of erebus, personification of night numa, second king of rome nymphs, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature dryads and hamadryads, tree nymphs, naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, nereids, sea nymphs oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs o oceanus, a titan, ruling watery elements ocyroe, a prophetess, daughter of chiron oderic odin, chief of the norse gods odyar, famous biscayan hero odysseus see ulysses odyssey, homer's poem, relating the wanderings of odysseus (ulysses) on returning from trojan war oedipus, theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the sphinx (which see), becoming king of thebes oeneus, king of calydon oenone, nymph, married by paris in his youth, and abandoned for helen oenopion, king of chios oeta, mount, scene of hercules' death ogier, the dane, one of the paladins of charlemagne oliver, companion of orlando olwen, wife of kilwich olympia, a small plain in elis, where the olympic games were celebrated olympiads, periods between olympic games (four years) olympian games, see games olympus, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which zeus was the head omphale, queen of lydia, daughter of iardanus and wife of tmolus ophion, king of the titans, who ruled olympus till dethroned by the gods saturn and rhea ops see rhea oracles, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a priest or priestess orc, a sea monster, foiled by rogero when about to devour angelica oreads, nymphs of mountains and hills orestes, son of agamemnon and clytemnestra, because of his crime in killing his mother, he was pursued by the furies until purified by minerva orion, youthful giant, loved by diana, constellation orithyia, a nymph, seized by boreas orlando, a famous knight and nephew of charlemagne ormuzd (greek, oromasdes), son of supreme being, source of good as his brother ahriman (arimanes) was of evil, in persian or zoroastrian religion orpheus, musician, son of apollo and calliope, see eurydice osiris, the most beneficent of the egyptian gods ossa, mountain of thessaly ossian, celtic poet of the second or third century ovid, latin poet (see metamorphoses) owain, knight at king arthur's court ozanna, a knight of arthur p pactolus, river whose sands were changed to gold by midas paeon, a name for both apollo and aesculapius, gods of medicine, pagans, heathen paladins or peers, knights errant palaemon, son of athamas and ino palamedes, messenger sent to call ulysses to the trojan war palamedes, saracen prince at arthur's court palatine, one of rome's seven hills pales, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures palinurus, faithful steersman of aeeas palladium, properly any image of pallas athene, but specially applied to an image at troy, which was stolen by ulysses and diomedes pallas, son of evander pallas a the'ne (minerva) pampha gus, a dog of diana pan, god of nature and the universe panathenaea, festival in honor of pallas athene (minerva) pandean pipes, musical instrument of reeds, made by pan in memory of syrinx pandora (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only hope, which remained pandrasus, a king in greece, who persecuted trojan exiles under brutus, great grandson of aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter imogen as brutus' wife, emigrated to albion (later called britain) panope, plain of panthus, alleged earlier incarnation of pythagoras paphlagnia, ancient country in asia minor, south of black sea paphos, daughter of pygmalion and galatea (both of which, see) parcae see fates pariahs, lowest caste of hindus paris, son of priam and hecuba, who eloped with helen (which. see) parnassian laurel, wreath from parnassus, crown awarded to successful poets parnassus, mountain near delphi, sacred to apollo and the muses parsees, persian fire worshippers (zoroastrians), of whom there are still thousands in persia and india parthenon, the temple of athene parthenos ("the virgin") on the acropolis of athens passebreul, tristram's horse patroclus, friend of achilles, killed by hector pecheur, king, uncle of perceval peers, the peg a sus, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of medusa peleus, king of the myrmidons, father of achilles by thetis pelias, usurping uncle of jason pelion, mountain pelleas, knight of arthur penates, protective household deities of the romans pendragon, king of britain, elder brother of uther pendragon, who succeeded him penelope, wife of ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return from the trojan war, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she had woven by day peneus, river god, river penthesilea, queen of amazons pentheus, king of thebes, having resisted the introduction of the worship of bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god penus, roman house pantry, giving name to the penates pepin, father of charlemagne peplus, sacred robe of minerva perceval, a great knight of arthur perdix, inventor of saw and compasses periander, king of corinuh, friend of arion periphetes, son of vulcan, killed by theseus persephone, goddess of vegetation, see pioserpine perseus, son of jupiter and danae, slayer of the gorgon medusa, deliverer of andromeda from a sea monster, , , phaeacians, people who entertained ulysses phaedra, faithless and cruel wife of theseus phaethusa, sister of phaeton, phaeton, son of phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun chariot phantasos, a son of somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men phaon, beloved by sappho phelot, knight of wales pheredin, friend of tristram, unhappy lover of isoude phidias, famous greek sculptor philemon, husband of baucis philoctetes, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of hercules philoe, burial place of osiris phineus, betrothed to andromeda phlegethon, fiery river of hades phocis phoebe, one of the sisters of phaeton phoebus (apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god phoenix, a messenger to achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes phorbas, a companion of aeneas, whose form was assumed by neptune in luring palinuras the helmsman from his roost phryxus, brother of helle pinabel, knight pillars of hercules, two mountains--calpe, now the rock of gibraltar, southwest corner of spain in europe, and abyla, facing it in africa across the strait pindar, famous greek poet pindus, grecian mountain pirene, celebrated fountain at corinth pirithous, king of the lapithae in thessaly, and friend of theseus, husband of hippodamia pleasure, daughter of cupid and psyche pleiades, seven of diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost plenty, the horn of plexippus, brother of althea pliny, roman naturalist pluto, the same as hades, dis, etc. god of the infernal regions plutus, god of wealth po, italian river pole star polites, youngest son of priam of troy pollux, castor and (dioscuri, the twins) (see castor) polydectes, king of seriphus polydore, slain kinsman of aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that bled when broken polyhymnia, muse of oratory and sacred song polyidus, soothsayer polynices, king of thebes polyphemus, giant son of neptune polyxena, daughter of king priam of troy pomona, goddess of fruit trees (see vertumnus) porrex and fer'rex, sons of leir, king of britain portunus, roman name for palaemon poseidon (neptune), ruler of the ocean precipice, threshold of helas hall prester john, a rumored priest or presbyter, a christian pontiff in upper asia, believed in but never found priam, king of troy priwen, arthur's shield procris, beloved but jealous wife of cephalus procrustes, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself served by theseus proetus, jealous of bellerophon prometheus, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use proserpine, the same as persephone, goddess of all growing things, daughter of ceres, carried off by pluto protesilaus, slain by hector the trojan, allowed by the gods to return for three hours' talk with his widow laodomia proteus, the old man of the sea prudence (metis), spouse of jupiter pryderi, son of pwyll psyche, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by cupid (love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality puranas, hindu scriptures pwyll, prince of dyved pygmalion, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life by venus, brother of queen dido pygmies, nation of dwarfs, at war with the cranes pylades, son of straphius, friend of orestes pyramus, who loved thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to meet in the near by woods, where pyramus, finding a bloody veil and thinking thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed herself (burlesqued in shakespeare's "midsummer night's dream") pyrrha, wife of deucalion pyrrhus (neoptolemus), son of achilles pythagoras, greek philosopher ( bc), who thought numbers to be the essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings pythia, priestess of apollo at delphi pythian games pythian oracle python, serpent springing from deluge slum, destroyed by apollo q quirinus (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be romulus, founder of rome r rabican, noted horse ragnarok, the twilight (or ending) of the gods rajputs, minor hindu caste regan, daughter of leir regillus, lake in latium, noted for battle fought near by between the romans and the latins reggio, family from which rogero sprang remus, brother of romulus, founder of rome rhadamanthus, son of jupiter and europa after his death one of the judges in the lower world rhapsodist, professional reciter of poems among the greeks rhea, female titan, wife of saturn (cronos), mother of the chief gods, worshipped in greece and rome rhine, river rhine maidens, or daughters, three water nymphs, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda, set to guard the nibelungen hoard, buried in the rhine rhodes, one of the seven cities claiming to be homer's birthplace rhodope, mountain in thrace rhongomyant, arthur's lance rhoecus, a youth, beloved by a dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness rhiannon, wife of pwyll rinaldo, one of the bravest knights of charlemagne river ocean, flowing around the earth robert de beauvais', norman poet ( ) robin hood, famous outlaw in english legend, about time of richard coeur de lion rockingham, forest of rodomont, king of algiers rogero, noted saracen knight roland (orlando), see orlando romances romanus, legendary great grandson of noah rome romulus, founder of rome ron, arthur's lance ronces valles', battle of round table king arthur's instituted by merlin the sage for pendragon, arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by arthur and his knights runic characters, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early teutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone rutulians, an ancient people in italy, subdued at an early period by the romans ryence, king in ireland s sabra, maiden for whom severn river was named, daughter of locrine and estrildis thrown into river severn by locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named sabrina sacripant, king of circassia saffire, sir, knight of arthur sagas, norse tales of heroism, composed by the skalds sagramour, knight of arthur st. michael's mount, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of brittany, opposite cornwall sakyasinha, the lion, epithet applied to buddha salamander, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire salamis, grecian city salmoneus, son of aeolus and enarete and brother of sisyphus salomon, king of brittany, at charlemagne's court samhin, or "fire of peace," a druidical festival samian sage (pythagoras) samos, island in the aegean sea samothracian gods, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in samothrace samson, hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of hercules san greal (see graal, the holy) sappho, greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of leucadia in disappointed love for phaon saracens, followers of mahomet sarpedon, son of jupiter and europa, killed by patroclus saturn (cronos) saturnalia, a annual festival held by romans in honor of saturn saturnia, an ancient name of italy satyrs, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat scaliger, famous german scholar of th century scandinavia, mythology of, giving account of northern gods, heroes, etc scheria, mythical island, abode of the phaeacians schrimnir, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of valhalla becoming whole every morning scio, one of the island cities claiming to be homer's birthplace scopas, king of thessaly scorpion, constellation scylla, sea nymph beloved by glaucus, but changed by jealous circe to a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the sicilian coast, facing the whirlpool charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two, also, daughter of king nisus of megara, who loved minos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a fair virgin of sicily, friend of sea nymph galatea scyros, where theseus was slain scythia, country lying north of euxine sea semele, daughter of cadmus and, by jupiter, mother of bacchus semiramis, with ninus the mythical founder of the assyrian empire of nineveh senapus, king of abyssinia, who entertained astolpho serapis, or hermes, egyptian divinity of tartarus and of medicine serfs, slaves of the land seriphus, island in the aegean sea, one of the cyclades serpent (northern constellation) sestos, dwelling of hero (which see also leander) "seven against thebes," famous greek expedition severn river, in england sevinus, duke of guienne shalott, the lady of shatriya, hindu warrior caste sherasmin, french chevalier sibyl, prophetess of cumae sichaeus, husband of dido seige perilous, the chair of purity at arthur's round table, fatal to any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the sangreal (see galahad) siegfried, young king of the netherlands, husband of kriemhild, she boasted to brunhild that siegfried had aided gunther to beat her in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and brunhild, in anger, employed hagan to murder siegfried. as hero of wagner's "valkyrie," he wins the nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts brunhild, and is slain by hagan sieglinda, wife of hunding, mother of siegfried by siegmund siegmund, father of siegfried sigtryg, prince, betrothed of king alef's daughter, aided by hereward siguna, wife of loki silenus, a satyr, school master of bacchus silures (south wales) silvia, daughter of latin shepherd silvius, grandson of aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his son brutus simonides, an early poet of greece sinon, a greek spy, who persuaded the trojans to take the wooden horse into their city sirens, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the sea, passing their island, ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not yield to their music sirius, the dog of orion, changed to the dog star sisyphus, condemned in tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again siva, the destroyer, third person of the hindu triad of gods skalds, norse bards and poets skidbladnir, freyr's ship skirnir, frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him gerda for his wife skrymir, a giant, utgard loki in disguise, who fooled thor in athletic feats skuld, the norn of the future sleep, twin brother of death sleipnir, odin's horse sobrino, councillor to agramant somnus, child of nox, twin brother of mors, god of sleep sophocles, greek tragic dramatist south wind see notus spar'ta, capital of lacedaemon sphinx, a monster, waylaying the road to thebes and propounding riddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed herself in rage when aedipus guessed aright spring stonehenge, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of pendragon strophius, father of pylades stygian realm, hades stygian sleep, escaped from the beauty box sent from hades to venus by hand of psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into unconsciousness styx, river, bordering hades, to be crossed by all the dead sudras, hindu laboring caste surtur, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their destruction (norse mythology) surya, hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the greek helios sutri, orlando's birthplace svadilfari, giant's horse swan, leda and sybaris, greek city in southern italy, famed for luxury sylvanus, latin divinity identified with pan symplegades, floating rocks passed by the argonauts syrinx, nymph, pursued by pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch of reeds (see pandean pipes) t tacitus, roman historian taenarus, greek entrance to lower regions tagus, river in spain and portugal taliesin, welsh bard tanais, ancient name of river don tantalus, wicked king, punished in hades by standing in water that retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he would eat tarchon, etruscan chief tarentum, italian city tarpeian rock, in rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled tarquins, a ruling family in early roman legend tauris, grecian city, site of temple of diana (see iphigenia) taurus, a mountain tartarus, place of confinement of titans, etc, originally a black abyss below hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with hades teirtu, the harp of telamon, greek hero and adventurer, father of ajax telemachus, son of ulysses and penelope tellus, another name for rhea tenedos, an island in aegean sea terminus, roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers terpsichore, muse of dancing terra, goddess of the earth tethys, goddess of the sea teucer, ancient king of the trojans thalia, one of the three graces thamyris, thracian bard, who challenged the muses to competition in singing, and, defeated, was blinded thaukt, loki disguised as a hag thebes, city founded by cadmus and capital of boeotia themis, female titan, law counsellor of jove theodora, sister of prince leo theron, one of diana's dogs thersites, a brawler, killed by achilles thescelus, foe of perseus, turned to stone by sight of gorgon's head theseum, athenian temple in honor of theseus theseus, son of aegeus and aethra, king of athens, a great hero of many adventures thessaly thestius, father of althea thetis, mother of achilles thialfi, thor's servant this'be, babylonian maiden beloved by pyramus thor, the thunderer, of norse mythology, most popular of the gods thrace thrina'kia, island pasturing hyperion's cattle, where ulysses landed, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by lightning thrym, giant, who buried thor's hammer thucydides, greek historian tiber, river flowing through rome tiber, father, god of the river tigris, river tintadel, castle of, residence of king mark of cornwall tiresias, a greek soothsayer tisiphone, one of the furies titans, the sons and daughters of uranus (heaven) and gaea (earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them tithonus, trojan prince tityus, giant in tartarus tmolus, a mountain god tortoise, second avatar of vishnu tours, battle of (see abdalrahman and charles martel) toxeus, brother of melauger's mother, who snatched from atalanta her hunting trophy, and was slain by melauger, who had awarded it to her triad, the hindu triads, welsh poems trimurti, hindu triad triptol'emus, son of celeus , and who, made great by ceres, founded her worship in eleusis tristram, one of arthur's knights, husband of isoude of the white hands, lover of isoude the fair, triton, a demi god of the sea, son of poseidon (neptune) and amphitrite troezen, greek city of argolis trojan war trojanova, new troy, city founded in britain (see brutus, and lud) trophonius, oracle of, in boeotia troubadours, poets and minstrels of provence, in southern france trouvers', poets and minstrels of northern france troy, city in asia minor, ruled by king priam, whose son, paris, stole away helen, wife of menelaus the greek, resulting in the trojan war and the destruction of troy troy, fall of turnus, chief of the rutulianes in italy, unsuccessful rival of aeneas for lavinia turpin, archbishop of rheims turquine, sir, a great knight, foe of arthur, slain by sir launcelot typhon, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under mt. aetna tyr, norse god of battles tyre, phoenician city governed by dido tyrians tyrrheus, herdsman of king turnus in italy, the slaying of whose daughter's stag aroused war upon aeneas and his companions u uberto, son of galafron ulysses (greek, odysseus), hero of the odyssey unicorn, fabled animal with a single horn urania, one of the muses, a daughter of zeus by mnemosyne urdur, one of the norns or fates of scandinavia, representing the past usk, british river utgard, abode of the giant utgard loki utgard lo'ki, king of the giants (see skrymir) uther (uther pendragon), king of britain and father of arthur, uwaine, knight of arthur's court v vaissyas, hindu caste of agriculturists and traders valhalla, hall of odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes valkyrie, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods (norse), odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for valhalla and serve them at their feasts ve, brother of odin vedas, hindu sacred scriptures venedotia, ancient name for north wales venus (aphrodite), goddess of beauty venus de medici, famous antique statue in uffizi gallery, florence, italy verdandi, the present, one of the norns vertumnus, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won the love of pomona vesta, daughter of cronos and rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth vestals, virgin priestesses in temple of vesta vesuvius, mount, volcano near naples villains, peasants in the feudal scheme vigrid, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself vili, brother of odin and ve virgil, celebrated latin poet (see aeneid) virgo, constellation of the virgin, representing astraea, goddess of innocence and purity vishnu, the preserver, second of the three chief hindu gods viviane, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage merlin and imprisoned him in an enchanted wood volscens, rutulian troop leader who killed nisus and euryalus volsung, a saga, an icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as the nibelungen lied vortigern, usurping king of britain, defeated by pendragon , vulcan (greek, haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges under aetna, husband of venus vya'sa, hindu sage w wain, the, constellation wellgunda, one of the rhine-daughters welsh language western ocean winds, the winter woden, chief god in the norse mythology, anglo saxon for odin woglinda, one of the rhine-daughters woman, creation of wooden horse, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of troy as a pretended offering to minerva when the greeks feigned to sail away, accepted by the trojans (see sinon, and laocoon), brought into the city, and at night emptied of the hidden greek soldiers, who destroyed the town wood nymphs wotan, old high german form of odin x xanthus, river of asia minor y yama, hindu god of the infernal regions year, the ygdrasil, great ash-tree, supposed by norse mythology to support the universe ymir, giant, slain by odin ynywl, earl, host of geraint, father of enid york, britain yserone, niece of arthur, mother of caradoc yspa da den pen'kawr, father of olwen z zendavesta, persian sacred scriptures zephyrus, god of the south wind, zerbino, a knight, son of the king of scotland zetes, winged warrior, companion of theseus zethus, son of jupiter and antiope, brother of amphion. see dirce zeus, see jupiter zoroaster, founder of the persian religion, which was dominant in western asia from about bc to about ad, and is still held by many thousands in persia and in india transcriber's note: a few typographical errors have been corrected: they are listed at the end of the text. * * * * * heathen mythology: illustrated by extracts from the most celebrated writers, both ancient and modern, on the gods of greece, rome, india, scandinavia, etc. etc. [illustration] and embellished with nearly two hundred engravings. after designs by m. baron. * * * * * london: willoughby & co., , warwick lane; and , smithfield. * * * * * london: printed by willoughby & co., , smithfield. * * * * * [illustration] {v} preface. ------ upon a subject which has occupied the thoughts, and employed the pens of our most profound thinkers, and our ablest writers, it is perhaps difficult to say much that is likely to interest the reader, without the chance of being irksome from its proving a thrice told tale: and yet the subject is in itself so interesting, and so intimately connected with all that is most fascinating to our remembrances, and so blended with all that reminds us of departed greatness, that it is scarcely possible to pass it coldly by, or to speak in the language of others those ideas which excite our own imaginations. there was something very pleasing and very poetical in the thought, that each river had its nymph, and every wood its god: that a visible power watched over even the domestic duties of the people, ready to punish or reward; and that, too in a manner so strange and immediate, that it must have greatly affected their minds in stimulating to good, or deterring from evil. they were, indeed, the days of "visible poetry;" the "young hunter," in the pursuit of his favourite sport, might image to his mind the form and figure of diana, accompanying him in the chase, not perhaps without a holy fear lest she should become visible to him, and the fate of acteon should prove to be his. {vi} the lover, as he sought the presence of his mistress, might, in his enamoured idea of her beauty, fancy that his idolatry was a real one, and that he wooed venus in the form of a mortal: or, in the tremor which then as now pervaded the lover's bosom, he might fear that jove himself would prove a rival, and, swan-like, or in some other as picturesque a form, win her he sought for his own: and thus, every class of society, from the patrician to the peasant, must have been imbued with feelings which, while they believed them to be religious, we regard but as poetical. leigh hunt, who has said many things upon mythology, quite as beautiful as his subject, remarks:-- "from having a different creed of our own, and always encountering the heathen mythology in a poetical and fabulous shape, we are apt to have a false idea of the religious feeling of the ancients. we are in the habit of supposing, that they regarded their fables in the same poetical light as ourselves; that they could not possibly put faith in jupiter, neptune, and pluto; in the sacrifice of innocent turtle doves, the libation of wine, and the notions about tartarus and ixion. "the greatest pleasure arising to a modern imagination from the ancient mythology, is in a mingled sense of the old popular belief, and of the philosophical refinements upon it. we take apollo, and mercury and venus, as shapes that existed in popular credulity, as the greater fairies of the ancient world: and we regard them, at the same time, as personifications of all that is beautiful and genial in the forms and tendencies of creation. but the result, coming, as it does too, through avenues of beautiful poetry, both ancient and modern, is so entirely cheerful, that we are apt to think it must have wanted gravity to more believing eyes. every forest, to the mind's eye of a greek, was haunted with superior intelligences. every stream had its presiding nymph, who was thanked for her draught of water. every house had its protecting gods which had blessed the inmate's ancestors; and which would bless him {vii} also, if he cultivated the social affections: for the same word which expressed piety towards the gods, expressed love towards relations and friends. if in all this there was nothing but the worship of a more graceful humanity, there may be worships much worse as well as better. "imagine the feelings with which an ancient believer must have gone by the oracular oaks of dodona, or the calm groves of the eumenides, or the fountain where proserpine vanished under ground with pluto; or the laurelled mountain parnassus, on the side of which was the temple of delphi, where apollo was supposed to be present in person. imagine plutarch, a devout and yet a liberal believer, when he went to study theology and philosophy at delphi: with what feelings must he not have passed along the woody paths of the hill, approaching nearer every instant to the presence of the divinity, and not sure that a glance of light through the trees was not the lustre of the god himself going by. this is mere poetry to us, and very fine it is; but to him it was poetry, and religion, and beauty, and gravity and hushing awe, and a path as from one world to another." g. moir bussey has also observed, with much elegance and feeling:--"the mythology of the ancients is one long romance in itself, full of poetry and passion--a mysterious compound of supernatural wonders and of human thoughts and feelings. it entrances us by its marvels in childhood; and in manhood we ponder over it, if not with the same rapturous delight as formerly, yet at least with such a sense of pleasure as that inspired by the perusal of a magnificent poem--the product of immortal mind--refreshing, invigorating, exalting. beauty and strength--the might of man, and the majesty and sublimity of the misunderstood intelligences of the godhead, not only constituted the worship of the greeks of old, but governed their lives, their actions, their laws, and the very aspirations of their hearts. they aimed at excellence in the highest, in order that their statues might be installed in their national temples as {viii} those of demi-gods, and the struggle brought them sufficient knowledge and energy to win deathless renown among men. all that they achieved, all that they meditated, bespeaks the soaring of a race bent upon conquering every obstacle--natural or artificial--which stood between them and absolute perfection, whether in legislation, in philosophy, in art, in science, in literature, in poetry, in war, or in dominion." the reality of an every day world has now set its seal upon all that delighted the days of our youth, and would even arouse us from our reveries on this most charming of subjects: we will conclude with the words of barry cornwall-- "oh! ye delicious fables, where the wave, and wood, were peopled; and the air, with things so lovely--why, ah! why has science grave scattered afar your secret imaginings? why seared the delicate flowers that genius gave, and dash the diamond drops from fancy's wings. alas! the spirit languishes and lies at mercy of life's dull realities. "no more by well or bubbling fountain clear the naiad dries her tresses in the sun, nor longer may we in the branches hear the dryad talk, nor see the oread run along the mountains, nor the nereid steer her way among the waves when day is done. shadows nor shape remain--" * * * * * { } [illustration] heathen mythology. introduction. in the earlier part of the history of nations, mythology has always been found to exist; imaginary beings have been adored, and a system of worship established, which, though imperfect in itself, was satisfactory to those, who, looking beyond the abstract circumstance of its idolatry, discovered the grand truth, that however rude, and however barbarous the people, there was a principle evidently acknowledged in their actions, of the necessity of a supreme being; and a feeling, of which they could not dispossess themselves, that a divine being watched over, and was the rewarder of their good, or the punisher of their evil deeds. the priests of phoenicia and egypt were the origin of the elements of this profane faith, and through their means, its transmission may be traced to the greeks, who, after adopting, purified, or at least assisted in greatly refining it, before its reception by the romans who multiplied their gods in about the same degree that their vices increased; while their armies, which overran the { } world, doubtless gave to the scandanavians and the gauls their ideas of the faith of odin; and the fables of the hindoos, and those of the american people, must be ascribed to the same source. it has been with many an endeavour to trace, in the mythologies of various nations, a resemblance to the more holy histories of our own faith; and they assert that, in many of the fables with which we are familiar, are to be traced the types or symbols of part of that revelation which is the ground-work of our own belief. but this is, at best, so vague and shadowy, that its inculcators get lost in their own inventions, and their followers scarcely comprehend the assertions they are called on implicitly to believe. with this we have nothing to do; the object of the present work being the endeavour to offer a brief and succinct history of those gods whose adventures have created most interest, and by means of them to give an additional zest to the perusal of the great poets and writers of antiquity, whose works are either founded on these actual adventures, or abound with allusions to them, and without the knowledge of which, it may be asserted, that the mind is scarcely able to do justice to them any more than to modern writers, since the works of the latter teem with images drawn from classical subjects. nor indeed is this to be wondered at, when we consider the various subjects connected with fable; and in this view of our subject we are borne out by a distinguished writer in the following elegant remarks: "men of a phlegmatic disposition," observes dr. turner, "or of a censorious temper, never cease to rail against the delightful fictions with which homer and hesiod, and their poetical imitators, have enriched and embellished their works; but although these fictions did not contain many useful instructions, and important truths, would there be any reason to attack and destroy a system, which peoples and animates nature, and which makes a solemn temple of the vast universe? these flowers, whose varied and shining beauty you so much admire, are the tears of aurora. it is the breath of zephyrus which gently agitates the leaves. the soft murmurings of the waters are the sighs of the naiades. a god impels the wind; a god pours out the rivers; grapes are the gift of bacchus; ceres presides over the harvest; orchards are the care of pomona. does a shepherd sound his reed on the summit of a mountain, it is pan, who with his pastoral pipe returns the amorous lay. { } "when the sportsman's horn rouses the attentive ear, it is diana, armed with her bow and quiver, and more nimble than the stag that she pursues, who takes the diversion of the chase. the sun is a god, who, riding in a car of fire, diffuses his light through the world; the stars are so many divinities, who measure with their golden beams the regular progress of time; the moon presides over the silence of night, and consoles the world for the absence of her brother. neptune reigns in the sea, surrounded by the naiades, who dance to the joyous shells of the tritons. in the highest heaven is seated jupiter, master and father of men and gods. under his feet roll the thunders, in the caverns of etna, forged by the cyclops; his smile rejoices nature; and his nods shakes the foundation of olympus. surrounding the throne of their sovereign, the other divinities quaff nectar, from a cup presented them by the young and beautiful hebe. in the middle of the great circle shines, with distinguished lustre, the unrivalled beauty of venus, alone adorned with a splendid girdle in which the graces for ever play, and in her hand is a smiling boy whose power is universally acknowledged by heaven and earth. sweet illusions of the fancy! pleasing errors of the mind! what objects of pity are those cold and insensible hearts who have never felt your charms! and what objects of pity and indignation those fierce and savage spirits, who would destroy a world that has so long been the treasury of the arts! a world, imaginary indeed, but delightful, and whose ideal pleasures are so well fitted to compensate for the real troubles and miseries of the world in which we live." if we turn to a still higher authority (and we acknowledge that the subject has been treated of so often and in so masterly a style by men of whom the world was scarcely worthy, that we are willing rather to present their mature opinions, than to obtrude our own) we shall find that lord bacon treats upon the subject in a manner which maintains his high character as a profound thinker. "i am not ignorant," he says, "how uncertain fiction is, and how liable to be wrested to this or that sense, nor how prevalent wit and discourse are, so as ingeniously to apply such meanings as were not thought of originally; but let not the follies and license of a few lessen the esteem due to parables; for that would be profane and bold, since religion delights in such veils and shadows: but, reflecting on human wisdom, i ingenuously confess my real opinion is, that { } mystery and allegory were from the original intended in many fables of the ancient poets, this appears apt and conspicuous to me; whether ravished with a veneration for antiquity, or because i find such coherence in the similitude with the things signified, in the very texture of the fable, and in the propriety of the names which are given to the persons or actors in the fables; and no man can positively deny that this was the sense proposed from the beginning, and industriously veiled in this manner.... no one should be moved, if he sometimes finds any addition for the sake of history, or by way of embellishment; or if chronology should happen to be confounded, or if part of one fable should be transferred to another, and a new allegory introduced: for these were all necessary, and to be expected, seeing they are the inventions of men of different ages, and who writ to different ends; some with a view to the nature of things and others to civil affairs. we have another sign, and that no small one, of this hidden sense which we have been speaking of, which is that some of these fables are in the narration so foolish and absurd, that they seem to claim a parable at a distance. such as are probable may be feigned for amusement, and in imitation of history; but where no such designs appear, but they seem to be what none would imagine or relate, they must be calculated for other uses. what has a great weight with me is, that many of these fables seem not to be invented by those who have related them, homer, hesiod, and other writers; for were they the fictions of that age and of those who delivered them down to us, nothing great and exalted, according to my opinion, could be expected from such an origin; but if any one will deliberate on this subject attentively, these will appear to be delivered and related as what were before believed and received, and not as tales then first invented and communicated; besides, as they are told in different manners, by authors of almost the same times, they are easily perceived to be common, and derived from old tradition, and are various only from the additional embellishments diverse writers have bestowed on them.... the wisdom of the ancients was either great or happy, great if these figures were the fruits of their industry; and happy if they looked no further, that they have afforded matter and occasion so worthy of contemplation." * * * * * { } the divinities of fable. ------ the stars were the first recipients of the homage of mankind; and thus heaven is the most ancient of the gods. as the world increased they deified heroes. the gods of the ancients were divided into many classes. the principal, or gods of the first order, amounted to twenty, viz:--jupiter, juno, neptune, ceres, mercury, minerva, vesta, apollo, diana, venus, mars, vulcan, destiny, saturn, genius, pluto, bacchus, love, cybele, and proserpine. besides these more important ones, they had others, such as chaos; which did not belong to any particular class, and which were not the object of any faith. "before the seas, and this terrestrial ball, and heaven's high canopy, that covers all, one was the face of nature--if a face; rather a rude and indigested mass; a lifeless lump, unfashioned and unframed, of jarring seeds; and justly chaos named. no sun was lighted up, the world to view; no moon did yet her blunted horns renew; nor yet was earth suspended in the sky; nor poised, did on her own foundations lie; nor seas about their shores the arms had thrown; but earth, and air, and water were in one. thus air was void of light, and earth unstable, and waters dark abyss unnavigable. no certain form on any was imprest; all were confused, and each disturbed the rest. for hot and cold were in one body fix'd; and soft with hard, and light with heavy mix'd. but god, or nature, while they thus contend, to these intestine discords put an end: then earth from air, and seas from earth were driven, and grosser air sunk from ethereal heaven. the force of fire ascended first on high, and took its dwelling in the vaulted sky: then air succeeds, in lightness next to fire; whose atoms from unactive earth retire. earth sinks beneath, and draws a numerous throng of ponderous, thick, unwieldy seeds along. about her coasts unruly waters roar, and, rising on a ridge, insult the shore. thus when the god, whatever god was he, had formed the whole, and made the parts agree, that no unequal portions might be found, he moulded earth into a spacious round: then, with a breath, he gave the winds to blew; and bade the congregated waters flow: { } he adds the running springs, and standing lakes, and bounding banks for winding rivers makes. some part in earth are swallowed up; the most in ample oceans disembogued, are lost: he shades the woods, the valleys he restrains with rocky mountains, and extends the plains. and as five zones the ethereal regions bind, five, correspondent, are to earth assigned: the sun with rays, directly darting down, fires all beneath, and fries the middle zone: the two beneath the distant poles, complain of endless winter, and perpetual rain." ovid. chaos is often mentioned in the history of the gods, but seems only to have had a momentary reign. he is the most ancient of all, for he presided over the elements that composed the universe. he is usually represented at the moment that he assigned to each element its place. to create the light of day, he repelled all the dark and thick clouds, and then formed the zodiac, glittering with stars above his head. [illustration] the poetic idea of chaos is found in sacred history, in the creation, as well as in all mythology, where we see the names of bramah, vishnu, and siva. * * * * * { } uranus, or heaven. ------ uranus, or heaven, was the day. espousing his sister titæa, from their union sprang the titans, those giants of antiquity who occupy so important a position in the annals of fable. of these children of the earth the principal were titan, saturn, and hyperion, of the males; whilst among the females were comprised thea, rhea, themis, and mnemosyne. after this titæa bore the cyclops, three of whom became servants to vulcan, forging, under his direction, the thunderbolts of the great jove; while the remainder wandered around the coast, leading the lives of shepherds. "three sons are sprung from heaven and earth's embrace, the cyclops bold, in heart a haughty race, brontes and steropes, and arges brave, who to the hands of jove the thunder gave; they for almighty power did lightning frame, all equal to the gods themselves in fame; one eye was placed (a large round orb, and bright) amidst their forehead to receive the light; hence were they cyclops called." hesiod. [illustration] uranus, however, as time passed, began to fear lest the offspring, which rose to such gigantic strength, should dethrone him; and by his power he threw them down an abyss, into which the light of day could never penetrate. this tyranny, however, only ripened the spirit of rebellion which he feared, and their frightful confinement but urged them to greater efforts to escape. they all arose against him, but were compelled to yield after a desperate struggle { } for supremacy; while rebellion brought its accustomed curse in heavier chains and more rigorous captivity, to all save saturn, who, led by ambition and vengeance, and assisted by his mother in his schemes, dethroned his sire, usurped his empire, and delivered his brethren. the defeated monarch fell beneath his son's parricidal hand; and from the blood thus shed sprang the giants and the furies, rendering fruitful also the foam of the sea, of which was born venus aphrodite. [illustration] * * * * * saturn. ------ by right of succession the sceptre of uranus belonged to titan, the eldest of the sons of the murdered monarch. ---- "titan, heaven's first born, with his enormous brood, and birthright seized by younger saturn; he from mightier jove his own and rhea's son like measure found * * * * * * ---- or who with saturn old fled over adria to the hesperian fields, and o'er the celtic roamed the utmost isles." milton. [illustration: the dance of the corybantes.] { } compelled to renounce his claim in favour of saturn, who delivered them all from their confinement; but with the condition that whatever children might be born to him, should be destroyed. saturn, faithful to his promise, swallowed, at their birth, all the male children brought to him by his wife cybele. but a mother's yearning for her offspring, appears to have filled even the breast of a goddess; and when delivered of jupiter and juno, she placed a stone instead of the newly-born, in the arms of the god, habited in an infant's dress. [illustration] ---- "jealous of the infant's future power, a stone the mother gave him to devour; greedy he seized the imaginary child, and swallowed heedless, by the dress beguiled; nor thought the wretched god of aught to fear, nor knew the day of his disgrace was near; invincible remains his jove alive, his throne to shake, and from his kingdom drive the cruel parent; for to him 'tis given to rule the gods, and mount the throne of heaven." hesiod. saturn devoured this, as he had the previous offerings; and emboldened by her success, cybele delivered in the same manner pluto and neptune, and afterwards, by administering a potion, compelled him to yield up those he had already swallowed. jupiter, the first whom the goddess had saved by her artifice, was brought up secretly in the isle of crete, by the corybantes, or warrior priests, who, making a deafening noise with their drums and cymbals, prevented for a period the cries of the infant from reaching the ears of titan: when, however, the latter discovered, as he eventually did, that his hopes had been deceived, and his { } agreement broken, he assembled an army, marched against saturn, (who by this time was made aware of the deception, but refused to destroy his children), took him prisoner, and threw him into tartarus, from whence he was delivered by jupiter, and replaced upon his throne. but the fears of saturn rendered him ungrateful to his deliverer, for destiny having prophesied that saturn should be dethroned by his son, the god attacked jupiter in ambush, and finished, by declaring open war against him. jupiter, however, again proved conqueror, chasing from heaven his father and his king, who took refuge in that part of italy known as latium; janus, monarch of this city of refuge, succoured and received him, and saturn, to recompense his hospitality, granted to him the gift of memory, and of looking into the future. from this cause, janus is represented with a double face. the time which saturn passed on earth is known as the age of gold. "ere saturn's rebel son usurped the skies; when beasts were only slain in sacrifice; while peaceful crete enjoyed her ancient lord; ere sounding hammers forged the inhuman sword; ere hollow drums were beat; before the breath of brazen trumpets rung the peals of death, the good old god his hunger did assuage with roots and herbs, and gave the _golden age_." virgil. ------ "the golden age was first; when man yet new, no rule but uncorrupted reason knew, and with a native bent did good pursue! unforced by punishment, unawed by fear, his words were simple, and his soul sincere. needless was written law, when none oppressed, the law of man was written in his breast; no suppliant crowds before the judge appeared, no court erected yet, nor cause was heard; but all was safe, for conscience was their guard: the mountain trees in distant prospects please, ere yet the pine descended to the seas; ere sails were spread new oceans to explore, and happy mortals unconcerned for more, confined their wishes to their native shore: no walls were yet, nor fence, nor moat, nor mound, nor drum was heard, nor trumpets' angry sound; nor swords were forged, but void of care or crime, the soft creation slept away their time; the teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough, and unprovoked did fruitful stores allow; { } content with food, which nature freely bred, on wildings and on strawberries they fed: the flowers unsown in fields and meadows reigned, and western winds immortal spring maintained; in following years the bearded corn ensued, from earth unasked, nor was that earth renewed; from veins of valleys, milk and nectar broke, and honey sweating thro' the pores of oak." ovid. from the gaieties and fêtes which then took place arose the name of saturnalia, or fêtes of saturn, which lasted three, four, and five days, and took place in december. all work was stayed, friend interchanged gifts with friend, the preparations for war and the execution of criminals were alike suspended, while masters waited on their slaves at table, in remembrance of the ideas of liberty and equality, which existed in ancient days. janus was represented supported by a staff, with a key in his hand, as he was believed to be the inventor of doors and of locks. from his name came the month of january. he worshipped at twelve altars, to represent the twelve months; and wore occasionally four faces, as tokens of the four seasons of the year. at rome, in which his temple was placed, it was open in the time of war, and shut during that of peace. saturn, or time, is represented sometimes on a flying chariot, and sometimes on a throne, under the figure of an old and bearded man, severe in aspect, thin and yet robust, his eyes marked by a stern light; a veil on his head, and a serpent round his waist; while in his hand he carries a harp. in later times he is represented with a scythe. "unfathomable sea! whose waves are years; ocean of time, whose waters of deep woe are brackish with the salt of human tears; thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow claspest the limits of mortality! and sick of prey, yet howling on for more, vomitest wrecks on its inhospitable shore. treacherous in calm and terrible in storm, who shall put forth on thee, unfathomable sea?" shelley. with his scythe and with his wings, our eyes are familiar, as, to the present day, he is never drawn without these accompaniments. { } "to one that marks the quick and certain round of year on year, and finds that every day brings its grey hair, or bears a leaf away from the full glory with which life is crowned, ere youth becomes a shade, and fame a sound: surely to one that feels his foot on sand unsure, the bright and ever visible hand of time, points far above the lowly bound of pride that perishes: and leads the eye to loftier objects and diviner ends; a tranquil strength, sublime humility, a knowledge of ourselves, a faith in friends, a sympathy for all things born to die, with cheerful love for those whom truth attends." laman blanchard. [illustration] this fable is easy of explanation. time is the child of heaven and earth; he has wings because he flies rapidly, a scythe because he destroys all, an hour-glass to measure his course equally; and the serpent is the symbol of eternity, which has neither a beginning nor an end. he slew his father, because, the world and time once created, he could exist no longer; he devoured his infants because time destroys all, and he threw them from his stomach because time returns with the years and days; and this part of the fable is also an image of the operations which nature accomplishes under the influence of time. he did not devour jupiter, as he represents the celestial regions, nor juno, she being the prototype of the air: time, mighty and all-destroying as he is, having no influence over the elements. * * * * * { } cybele, vesta. ------ this goddess was the daughter of uranus, being the sister and wife of saturn. as soon as she was born, she was exposed on a mountain, but being preserved and suckled by some of the wild beasts of the forest, she received the name of cybele from the mountain where her life had been preserved. she is called also the ancient vesta, to distinguish her from her daughter vesta, who, with her mother, is also called cybele. but the deity of whom we now write is the earth, and is easy to distinguish from her daughter. in several temples of the ancients, the statues of cybele were only a piece of stone, meant to represent the stability of the earth. this great goddess saw and became enamoured of a shepherd, who repulsed her affection, being in love with a mortal nymph; and rather than submit to the tyrannical passion of cybele, he is said to have destroyed himself, and the goddess metamorphosed him into a pine-tree. [illustration] in the mythology of every country, this deity is found, though under various names. she is represented with keys in her hand, her head crowned with rising turrets, and sometimes with the leaves { } of an oak. she is also seen with many breasts, to intimate that the earth gives aliment to all living creatures. to her daughter, who presided over the fiery element, numa pompilius consecrated an altar, where virgins, named vestals, maintained perpetual fire. at delphi and at athens the priestesses were not virgins, as at the other temples, but widows who were past the time of marriage. [illustration] it was the employment of the vestals to take care that the sacred fire of vesta was not extinguished, for if it ever happened, it was deemed the prognostic of great calamities to the state: the offender was punished for negligence, and severely scourged by the high priest. the privileges of the vestals were great: they had the most honourable seats at the public games and festivals, a lictor preceded them when they walked in public; they were carried in chariots when they pleased, and had the power of pardoning criminals if they encountered them on the way to execution, and the meeting was declared to be purely accidental. such of them as forgot their vow, were placed in a large hole under the earth, where a bed was placed, with a little bread, wine, { } oil, and a lighted lamp: the guilty vestal was stripped of the habit of her order, and compelled to descend into the subterranean cavity, which was immediately shut, and she was left to die of hunger. _vestal._ spare me! oh spare! _priest._ speak not, polluted one. _vestal._ yet spare me! _priest._ thou pleadst in vain--thy destiny is fixed. _vestal._ mercy--oh! mercy; tho' my sin be great, life is so beautiful i cannot die; and earth seems smiling with intenser light, and flowers give forth an odour ever new, the stars look brighter still than when of old i watched them fading from the mountain top: earth, sky and air, are all so beautiful, i cannot, dare not, will not, think of death! _priest._ it is thy doom! thy living grave is near. thou hast despoiled the goddess of her due, the vow thou gavest to her thou hast broken, and thou must pay the awful penalty! _vestal._ the grave--a living grave--thou meanst it not-- to ope my eyes in th' ever during dark, to breathe a thick and frightful atmosphere, drawn from my sighs and dampened with my tears! _priest._ the gods demand their victim! _vestal._ 'tis blasphemy to think it; oh! if thou ever knew'st a father's love, a mother's sigh, a sister's soft caress, if but one human sympathy be left, pardon, oh! pardon! _priest._ cling not around me, girl, touch, touch me not; the power to pardon lieth not in man. thy hour hath come. _vestal, (clasping him)._ i will not quit thee; thou art a man with human sympathies; madness will touch my brain; i cannot, will not yield. grant me some other death: poison or steel, or aught that sends me suddenly from earth; but to be wrapt in clay, and yet not of it, to feel the earth crumbling around my brow, to scent its foul and noisome atmosphere, is more than frail mortality can bear. anon. [illustration] { } jupiter. ------ the nymphs of mount ida, to whom cybele had confided her son, educated him with great care; but his cries being likely to call the attention of saturn and titan, the priests invented a dance accompanied with noise, called the dactyl, in which they interchanged blows on steel bucklers. his nourishment was received from a goat, who was afterwards placed among the heavenly constellations, having given his skin to form a shield, and one of his horns, which was presented to the nymphs, and named the horn of plenty. as jupiter emerged from infancy, we have seen he had to strive with the titans, who disputed with him the right to reign in heaven. the first of their feats was to heap mountain on mountain in order to scale the walls of heaven; they then threw fragments of rocks and burning trees against "high olympus." "but vainly came typhæus on, and vainly huge porphyrion, fierce rhoetus of the vengeful stroke, and minias strong as mountain oak, with bold encelædas, to heaven who strove to dart the trees, uprooted, from the grove: for weak their might against the shield which pallas' matchless arm did wield; while quick against the giant foes juno, and ardent vulcan, rose; and to the fight the young apollo sped, glittering afar with bows and arrows dread, who bathing in castalian dew, his tresses loose of golden hue, rejoicing in his youth is seen amid the lycian valleys green, or in the delian groves will sport oftwhile amid the flowers that deck his native isle." horace. the gods at first defended themselves with great courage, but at the appearance of the hundred-headed typhon, all, save bacchus, sought safety in flight, and hid themselves in egypt, where they obtained refuge under various forms: from the different disguises they then assumed, may be traced the worship rendered by the egyptians to both animals and vegetables. { } typhon, who thus, by his mere appearance, seemed to turn the tide of war, is thus described: ----------------"typhon, whose hands of strength are fitted to tremendous deeds; and indefatigable are the feet of the strong god: and from his shoulders rise a hundred snaky heads of dragon growth." hesiod. notwithstanding the dire appearance of this monster, bacchus fought bravely against the foes of heaven, and took the form of a lion, while animated by the cries of jupiter, who shouted "courage, courage!" his bravery turned the tide of war. "and now the murmur of incitement flies, all ranged in martial order, through the skies; here jove above the rest conspicuous shined, in valour equal to his strength his mind; erect and dauntless see the thunderer stand, the bolts red hissing from his vengeful hand; he walks majestic round the starry frame; and now the lightnings from olympus flame. the earth wide blazes with the fires of jove, nor the flash spares the verdure of the grove." hesiod. the invaders, at length, were overthrown, and crushed beneath the mountains which they themselves had prepared to execute their vengeance on jupiter. many times, though vainly, the titans sought to avenge their defeat; and olympus, from this time, was only troubled by internal dissensions. --------------"the bruised titans mourned within a den where no insulting light could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans they felt, but heard not; hard flint they sat upon, couches of rugged stone and slaty ridge, stubborned with iron. coeus and gyges and briareus, with many more, the brawniest in assault, were pent in regions of laborious breath; dungeoned in opague element to keep their clenched teeth still clenched, and all their limbs locked up like veins of metal cramped and screwed: without a motion save of their big hearts, heaving in pain." keats' hyperion. after his victory, jupiter, who had driven saturn from heaven, and was in consequence its undisputed king, espoused juno his sister. { } the commencement of their union was a happy one, and was called the age of silver, being an era of virtue, less pure, however, than that of the age of gold. "but when good saturn banished from above was driven to hell, the world was under jove. succeeding times a silver age behold, excelling brass, but more excelled by gold; then summer, autumn, winter did appear, and spring was but a season of the year. the sun his annual course obliquely made, good days contracted and enlarged the bad. then air with sultry heat began to glow; the wings of winds were clogged with ice and snow; and shivering mortals into houses driven, sought shelter from the inclemency of heaven. those houses then were caves or homely sheds, with twining osiers fenced, and moss their beds: then ploughs for seed the fruitful farrows broke, and oxen laboured first beneath the yoke." ovid. nor was crime long in making its appearance. hyacon, king of arcadia, violated all the laws of hospitality by the massacre of his guests. he had the cruelty to offer up to jupiter, in one of the high festivals, the members of a slave, as an offering to the god. but his punishment was as swift as his conduct had been atrocious: his palace was reduced to ashes, and his form was changed into that of a wolf. from this jupiter took the name which denotes him an avenger of the laws of hospitality. jupiter is also distinguished by the name of ammon from the following circumstance: bacchus being in the midst of the sands of arabia, was seized with a thirst so burning, that he was reduced to long even for a drop of water. jupiter presented himself to him under the form of a battering-ram, and striking the earth, caused the grateful liquid to spring forth in abundance. bacchus, to commemorate the deed, erected a temple to his benefactor in the deserts of lybia, under the name of jupiter ammon, i. e.--sandy. by this time mankind had owed their creation to the king of the gods. prometheus, grand-son of uranus, having deceived jupiter, he was punished by being withheld from the element of fire; and to enrage his sovereign, he formed a being of clay, of workmanship so exquisite, that it scarcely seemed to need life to add to its beauty, and to complete his performance, assisted { } by minerva, he stole fire from the chariot of the sun, wherewith to animate his image. [illustration] enraged at this daring, jupiter had him conveyed to mount caucasus, where being chained to the rock, a vulture preyed upon his entrails, which grew as fast as they were devoured, thus subjecting him to a never dying torture. ------------------"awful sufferer! to thee unwilling, most unwillingly i come, by the great father's will driven down, to execute a doom of new revenge. alas! i pity thee, and hate myself, that i can do no more: aye from thy sight returning, for a season, heaven seems hell, so thy worn form pursues me night and day, smiling reproach. wise art thou, firm and good, but vainly wouldst stand forth alone in strife against the omnipotent: as yon clear lamps, that measure and divide the weary years from which there is no refuge, long have taught and long must teach. even now the torturer arms with the strange might of unimagined pains the powers who scheme slow agonies in hell; and my commission is to lead them here, or what more subtle, foul, or savage fiends people the abyss, and leave them to their task. oh that we might be spared: i to inflict, and thou to suffer! once more answer me: thou knowest not the period of jove's power? _prometheus._ i know but this, that it must come. _first fury._ prometheus! _second fury._ immortal titan! _third fury._ champion of heaven's slaves! _pro._ he whom some dreadful voice invokes is here, prometheus, the chained titan. horrible forms, whence and what are ye? never yet there came { } phantasms so foul thro' monster-teeming hell, from the all miscreative brain of jove; whilst i behold such execrable shapes, methinks i grow like what i contemplate, and laugh and stare in loathsome sympathy. _first fury._ we are ministers of pain, and fear, and disappointment, and mistrust, and hate, and clinging crime; and, as lean dogs pursue thro' wood and lake some struck and sobbing fawn, we track all things that weep, and bleed, and live, when the great king betrays them to our will. _pro._ oh! many fearful natures in one name, i know ye; and these lakes and echoes know the darkness and the clangour of your wings. but why more hideous than your loathed selves gather ye up in legions from the deep! _second fury._ we knew not that: sisters, rejoice! rejoice! _pro._ can aught exult in its deformity? _second fury._ the beauty of delight makes lovers glad, gazing on one another: so are we, as from the rose which the pale priestess kneels to gather for a festal crown of flowers, the aërial crimson falls, flushing her cheek, so from our victim's destined agony, the shade which is our form invests us round; else we are shapeless as our mother night. _pro._ i laugh your power, and his who sent you here, to lowest scorn. pour forth the cup of pain. _first fury._ thou thinkest we will rend thee bone from bone, and nerve from nerve, working like fire within! _pro._ pain is my element, as hate is thine; ye rend me now; i care not. _second fury._ dost imagine we will but laugh into thy lidless eyes? _pro._ i weigh not what ye do, but what ye suffer, being evil. cruel is the power which called you, or aught else so wretched into light! _third fury._ thou think'st we will live through thee one by one, like animal life, and though we can obscure not the soul which burns within, that we will dwell beside it, like a vain, loud multitude, vexing the self-content of wisest men: that we will be dread thought beneath thy brain, and foul desire round thine astonished heart, and blood within thy labyrinthine veins, crawling like agony. _pro._ why use me thus now, yet am i king over my self's rule, the torturing and conflicting throes within, as jove rules you when hell grows mutinous." shelley. this provoked the vengeance of jupiter, and he ordered vulcan to create a female, whom they called pandora. all the gods vied in making presents. venus gave her beauty, and the art of pleasing; { } apollo taught her to sing; mercury instructed her in eloquence; minerva gave her the most rich and splendid ornaments. from these valuable presents which she received from the gods, the woman was called pandora, which intimates that she had received every necessary gift. jupiter, after this, gave her a beautiful box, which she was ordered to present to the man who married her; and by the command of the god, mercury conducted her to prometheus. the artful mortal was sensible of the deceit; and as he had always distrusted jupiter, he sent away pandora without suffering himself to be captivated by her charms. "he spoke, and told to mulciber his will, and smiling bade him his command fulfil; to use his greatest art, his nicest care, to frame a creature exquisitely fair; to temper well the clay with water, then to add the vigour and the voice of men; to let her first in virgin lustre shine, in form a goddess, with a bloom divine; and next the sire demands minerva's aid, in all her various skill to train the maid bids her the secrets of the loom impart, to cast a curious thread with happy heart; and golden venus was to teach the fair the wiles of love, and to improve her air; and then in awful majesty to shed a thousand graceful charms around her head. next hermes, artful god, must form her mind, one day to torture, and the next be kind: with manners all deceitful, and her tongue fraught with abuse, and with detraction hung; jove gave the mandate, and the gods obeyed: first vulcan formed of earth the blushing maid; minerva next performed the task assigned, with every female art adorned her mind; to her the beauties and the graces join, around her person, lo! the diamonds shine. to deck her brows the fair tressed seasons bring, a garland breathing all the sweets of spring: each present pallas gives its proper place, and adds to every ornament a grace! next hermes taught the fair the heart to move with all the false alluring arts of love, her manners all deceitful, and her tongue with falsehoods fruitful, and detraction hung; the finished maid the gods pandora call, because a tribute she received from all; and thus 'twas jove's command the sex began a lovely mischief to the soul of man! within her hand the nymph a casket bears, full of diseases and corroding cares: { } which opened, they to taint the world begin and hope alone remained entire within! such was the fatal present from above, and such the will of cloud compelling jove: and now unnumbered woes o'er mortals reign alike infected is the land and main; o'er human race distempers silent stray, and multiply their strength by night and day! 'twas jove's decree they should in silence rove, for who is able to contend with jove?" hesiod. when the box was opened, there issued from it a multitude of evils and distempers, which dispersed themselves over the world, and which from that fatal moment have never ceased to afflict the human race. hope alone remained at the bottom, and that only has the power of easing the labours of man, and rendering his troubles less painful. "but thou, oh! hope, with eyes so fair, what was thy delighted measure? still it whispered promised pleasure, and bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! still would her touch the strain prolong, and from the rocks, the woods, the vale, she called on echo still throughout the song; and where her sweetest theme she chose a soft responsive voice was heard at every close, and hope, enchanted, smiled and waved her golden hair!" collins. ------ "hope sets the stamp of vanity on all, that men have deemed substantial since the fall, yet has the wondrous virtue to educe, from emptiness itself, a real use; and while she takes, as at a father's hand, what health and sober appetite demand, from fading good derives with chemic art that lasting happiness, a thankful heart. hope with uplifted foot set free from earth pants for the place of her ethereal birth; hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast the christian vessel, and defies the blast. hope! nothing else can nourish and secure his new born virtue, and preserve him pure. hope! let the wretch once conscious of the joy, whom now despairing agonies destroy, speak, for he can, and none so well as he, what treasures centre, what delights in thee. had he the gems, the spices, and the land that boasts the treasure, all at his command, the fragrant grove, th' inestimable mine, were light when weighed against one smile of thine." cowper. { } after this commenced the age of steel, when even jupiter abandoned himself to the fiery passions of love, jealousy, and vengeance. ----------"hard steel succeeded then: and stubborn as the metal were the men. truth, modesty, and shame the world forsook; fraud, avarice, and force, their places took. then sails were spread to every wind that blew, raw were the sailors, and the depths were new; trees, rudely hollowed, did the waves sustain, ere ships in triumph, ploughed the watery plain. then landmarks limited to each his right; for all before was common as the light: nor was the ground alone required to bear her annual income to the crooked share, but greedy mortals rummaging her store, dug from her entrails first the precious ore, which next to hell the prudent gods had laid, and that alluring ill to sight displayed. thus cursed steel, and more accursed gold, gave mischief birth, and made the mischief bold, and double did wretched man invade, by steel assaulted, and by gold betrayed. now (brandished weapons glittering in their hands) mankind is broken loose from moral bands: no right of hospitality remain; the guest, by him who harboured him, is slain. the son-in-law pursues the father's life, the wife her husband murders, he the wife; the step-dame poison for the son prepares; the son inquires into his father's years. faith flies, and piety in exile mourns; and justice, here opprest, to heaven returns." ovid. he was enamoured of antiope, alcmena, danae, leda, semele, europa, calista, and a crowd of other goddesses and mortals. the principal names given to jupiter are the thunderer, the avenger, the god of day, the god of the worlds, and lastly of olympus, in which he dwelt, and on which poets and painters have exercised their imaginations. the figures of jupiter have varied according to the circumstances and the times in which they have appeared. he has been represented as a swan, a bull, a shower of gold, and as a cuckoo: but homer appears to have inspired ideas of the most noble kinds to the sculptors of antiquity. the divine poet represents the king of gods seated on a golden throne, at the feet of which are two cups, containing the principle of good and evil. his brow laden with { } dark clouds; his eyes darting lightning from beneath their lids; and his chin covered with a majestic beard. in one hand the sceptre, in the other a thunderbolt. the virtues are at his side: at his feet the eagle who bears the thunderbolt. one frown from his eyes makes the whole earth tremble. [illustration] the olympian games in greece were instituted in honour of this god, from those celebrated at olympus. the following, perhaps the finest description we have of jupiter, while granting the prayer of achilles, is from homer's iliad. "twelve days were passed, and now the dawning light, the gods had summoned to the olympian height. jove first ascending from the watery bowers, leads the long order of ethereal powers. when like the morning mist in early days, rose from the flood the daughter of the seas; and to the seats divine her flight addressed. there far apart, and high above the rest the thunderer sat; where old olympus shrouds his hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds. suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placed beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced: 'if e'er, o father of the gods!' she said, 'my words could please thee, or my actions aid; some marks of honour on my son bestow, and pay in glory what in life you owe. fame is at least by heavenly promise due, to life so short, and now dishonoured too. avenge this wrong, oh ever just and wise; let greece be humbled, and the trojans rise; till the proud king, and all the achaian race, shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.'" homer. [illustration: olympus.] { } jupiter is often described by the ancients as visiting the earth in disguise, and distributing to its inhabitants his punishments or rewards. ovid relates one in connexion with the luxury of rome, and in which the hospitality of baucis and philemon saved them from the fate of their friends. he is represented as the guardian of man, and dispenser of good and evil. "while we to jove select the holy victim, whom after shall we sing than jove himself? the god for ever great, for ever king, who slew the earth-born race, and measures right to heaven's great habitants. swift growth and wondrous grace, oh! heavenly jove, waited thy blooming years: inventive wit, and perfect judgment crowned thy youthful act. thou to the lesser gods hast well assigned their proper shares of power; thy own, great jove, boundless and universal. each monarch rules his different realm, accountable to thee, great ruler of the world; these only have to speak and be obeyed; to those are given assistant days to ripen the design; to some whole months; revolving years to some; others, ill-fated, are condemned to toil their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted, with fruitless act and impotence of counsel. hail! greatest son of saturn, wise disposer of every good; thy praise what man yet born has sung? or who that may be born shall sing? again, and often, hail! indulge our prayer, great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth, for without virtue, wealth to man avails not, and virtue without wealth exerts less power, and less diffuses good. then grant us, gracious, virtue and wealth, for both are of thy gift!" prior. * * * * * juno. ------ juno, who was the daughter of saturn and cybele, was also sister and wife to jupiter. her pride protected her beauty: for when the god, to seduce her, took the form of a cuckoo, she recognised him in his disguise, and refused to submit to his wishes, unless he would consent to marry her. at their nuptials, invitations were sent to all the gods, and beings of even a lower order were not forgotten. but one nymph, by the insolence of her refusal, merited { } the punishment she received of being changed into a tortoise, and became the symbol of silence. as might be expected, the marriage of jupiter and juno, was not productive of much happiness, the jealousy of the latter being a never-failing source of misery; it was this which caused the celebrated trojan war; and this that caused jupiter to suspend her from heaven by a golden cord, in the attempt to rescue her from which, vulcan achieved the wrath of his sire, the thunderer. [illustration] the intrigue of jupiter with io, is also celebrated in the history of his amours. juno became jealous as usual, discovered the object of his affections, and surprised him in the company of io; a change soon took place in the appearance of the latter, when, through the { } influence of the god, she assumed the form of a white heifer. juno instantly discovered the fraud, and requested jupiter to give her possession of an animal she so much admired. the request was too reasonable to be refused, and io became the property of juno, who placed her under the control of the hundred-eyed argus: but jupiter, anxious for the situation of io, sent mercury, who destroyed argus, and restored her to liberty. "down from the rock fell the dissevered head, opening its eyes in death, and falling bled, and marked the passage with a crimson trail; thus argus lies in pieces, cold and pale, and all his hundred eyes with all their light are closed at once in one perpetual night; these juno takes, that they no more may fail, and spreads them in her peacock's gaudy tail." ovid. after undergoing the vengeance of juno, who unrelentingly pursued her, she gave birth to an infant on the banks of the nile, and was restored by jupiter to her natural shape. all who seemed to be favoured by, or who favoured jupiter, she persecuted with the utmost rigour: but when it is remembered what cause juno had for her jealousy, and that her husband metamorphosed himself into a swan for leda, into a shepherd for mnemosyne, into a shower of gold for danae, and into a bull for europa, she may easily be pardoned her restless spirit. when jupiter had assumed the form of a bull, he mingled with the herds belonging to agenor, father of europa, while the latter, with her female attendants, was gathering flowers in the surrounding meadows. europa caressed the beautiful animal, and at last had the courage to sit upon his back. jupiter took advantage of her situation, and with precipitate steps retired towards the shore, crossed the sea with europa on him, and arrived safe in crete. here he adopted his original shape, and declared his love. the nymph consented, though she had previously taken the vows of perpetual celibacy; and became the mother of minos, sarpedon, and rhadamanthus. "the ruler of the skies, the thundering god, who shakes the world's foundation with a nod, among a herd of lowing heifers ran, frisked in a bull, and gallopped o'er the plain; { } his skin was whiter than the snow that lies unsullied by the breath of southern skies, his every look was peaceful, and expressed the softness of the lover in the beast. agenor's royal daughter, as she played among the fields, the milk white bull surveyed, and viewed his spotless body with delight, and at a distance kept him still in sight; at length she plucked the rising flowers, that fed the gentle beast, and fondly stroked his head. she placed herself upon his back, and rode o'er fields and meadows, seated on the god. he gently marched along, and by degrees, left the dry meadows and approached the seas, where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs, now plunges in, and carries off the prize." ovid. at length juno, unable to bear the many injuries her love had sustained, left jupiter, and retired to the isle of samos, announcing, at the same time, that she should return no more to the court of the king of heaven. the latter, not disheartened, dressed a statue as queen of olympus, placed it in his chariot, and declared it should be the future wife of the ruler of the gods. this induced juno to quit her hiding place; for, unable to restrain her jealousy, she rushed back with all speed, destroyed the statue, laughingly acknowledged her error, and was reconciled to her husband. the wife of jupiter is always represented as superbly arrayed, in a chariot drawn by two peacocks, where she sat with a sceptre in her hand, having always a peacock beside her. she was adored above all at argos, where her feasts were celebrated by the sacrifice of a hundred bulls. at rome, hers were the lupercalian feasts. she was believed to preside over the birth-pangs of the roman women, and the priests, to render the time fruitful, struck these grave matrons with a portion of the skin of a kid, which they asserted had formed one of the vestments of the goddess. in the spirit of a high mythology, juno may be considered as representing the sublunary atmosphere; and, as opposed to jupiter, the active origin and organizer of all, she is of a passive nature. these ideas are allied with those of hymen, who is called juno, the virtuous wife. a statue of juno recently discovered, is thus described:-- "the countenance expresses a stern unquestioned severity of { } dominion, with a certain sadness. the lips are beautiful, susceptible of expressing scorn, but not without sweetness. with fine lips a person is never wholly bad, and they never belong to the expression of emotions purely selfish, lips being the seat of imagination. the drapery is finely conceived; and the manner in which the act of throwing back one leg is expressed in the diverging folds of the drapery of the left breast, fading in bold, yet graduated lines, into a skirt, as it descends from the left shoulder, is admirably imagined." shelley. * * * * * [illustration] ceres. ------ ceres, daughter of saturn and cybele, was goddess of the productions of the earth. she taught man the art of agriculture, and is represented crowned with wheat, holding a torch in one hand, and in the other an ear of corn; sometimes she carries a sceptre, and sometimes a sickle, and her chariot is drawn by lions or by serpents. ------------"as tempered suns arise sweet beamed, and shedding through the lucid clouds a pleasing calm: while broad and brown, below extensive harvests hang the heavy head. rich, silent, deep, they stand: for not a gale rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain: a calm of plenty; till the ruffled air falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. { } rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky, and back by fits the shadows sweep along. a gaily chequered, heart-expanding view, far as the circling eye can shoot around, unbounded, tossing in a flood of corn." thomson. loved by jupiter, she had by the god a daughter called proserpine, whom pluto, god of hell, seized near the beautiful vale of enna, in sicily, and carried with him to his dismal kingdom. ceres, whose love for her child, almost surpassed even the usual love of mothers, placed on mount etna two torches, and sought her "from morn to noon, from noon to dewy eve," throughout the world. at last, when she deemed her search well nigh hopeless, she was informed by the nymph arethusa of the dwelling place of her child, and of the name of him who had torn her beloved one from her paternal care. ceres implored jupiter to interfere, and withdraw her from the infernal regions, which he agreed to do, but found it would be beyond his power, as, by a decree of destiny, she would not be able to quit her place of concealment, should she have partaken of any nourishment while there; and it was discovered that though she had refused all ordinary food, she had been tempted while in the gardens of pluto, to pluck a pomegranate, and to eat a few of its seeds. this was sufficient; and the utmost ceres could obtain, was that she should pass six months of the year with her mother and six months with pluto, when she became his wife. "near enna's walls a spacious lake is spread, famed for the sweetly singing swans it bred; pergûsa is its name: and never more were heard, or sweeter sounds than on cayster's shore. woods crown the lake, and phoebus ne'er invades the tufted fences or offends the shades: fresh fragrant breezes fan the verdant bowers, and the moist ground smiles with enamelled flowers, the cheerful birds their airy carols sing, and the whole year is one eternal spring. here while young proserpine, among the maids, diverts herself in these delicious shades; while like a child with busy speed and care, she gathers lilies here, and violets there; while first to fill her little lap she strives, hell's grizzly monarch at the shades arrives; sees her thus sporting on the flowery green, and loves the blooming maid as soon as seen. { } the frighted goddess to her mother cries: but all in vain, for now far off she flies; his urgent flame impatient of delay, swift as his thought he seized the beauteous prey, and bore her in his sooty car away. far she behind her leaves her virgin train; to them too cries, and cries to them in vain. and while with passion she repeats her call, the violets from her lap and lilies fall: she misses them, poor heart! and makes new moan: her lilies, oh! are lost, her violets gone. o'er hills the ravisher, and valleys speeds, by name encouraging his foamy steeds; he rattles o'er their necks the rusty reins, and ruffles with the stroke their shaggy manes throws to his dreadful steeds the slackened rein, and strikes his iron sceptre through the main; the depths profound thro' yielding waves he cleaves, and to hell's centre a free passage leaves; down sinks his chariot, and his realms of night the god soon reaches with a rapid flight." ovid. the attempts of ceres to encourage the art of agriculture were not always favourably received: the king of the scythians, who loved the sword more than the ploughshare, and the spear more than the reaping hook, having attempted to smother the art taught by ceres in its infancy, was metamorphosed into a lynx. nor was this the only instance of the vengeance of the goddess, who was irritable, and prompt to punish. a young child, whose chief crime was having laughed to see her eat with avidity, was changed into a lizard: while a thessalian, who had desecrated and attempted to destroy a sacred forest, was doomed to an hunger so cruel, that he devoured his own limbs, and died in the midst of fearful torments. [illustration] * * * * * { } destiny. ------ we have already seen that the decrees of destiny, or fate, were superior even to the will of jupiter, as the king of the gods could not restore proserpine to her mother, destiny having decreed otherwise. but of this being, as possessing a place among the heroes of mythology, we are left in considerable ignorance. scarcely knowing even if he were a god, or only the name or symbol whereby to represent an immutable and unchangeable law. in the antique bas-reliefs he is often to be seen, with a bandage over his eyes, and near him an open book which the gods alone might consult: and in which are written those events which must inevitably come to pass, and which all are so anxious to discover. "thou power which all men strive to look into! thou power which dost elude all human search! to thee alone is given the right to gaze into the fate prepared for all who live. oh! wilt thou ne'er unlock thine iron bars, oh! wilt thou ne'er enable us to look into the volume clasped at thy right hand? the past is known to us, and doth contain so much of evil and so little good, so much of wrong, and oh! so little right, so much of suffering, and so little peace, that we would fain turn o'er the leaves which speak of future things to our sore troubled souls. yet no! perchance the burden is too much, and is in mercy hidden from our eyes. earth is made up of so much care and woe, the past, the present, and the future known, would sink us into deep and desperate sorrow." [illustration] { } apollo. ------ this deity, whose name still lives with us, as the presiding divinity of the art of song, was the son of jupiter, by the beautiful latona, daughter of the titan, coeus. asteria, her sister, disdaining the embraces of the god, threw herself into the sea, and was changed into the isle which bears the name of delos; where latona afterwards sought refuge from the fury of juno, when about to overwhelm her, for her frailty with her husband. the irritated goddess, to punish latona for her crime, excited against her the serpent python, who pursued her wheresoever she went; until at last, in the isle of delos, alone and unfriended, bearing in her bosom the fruit of her weakness, she gave birth to apollo and diana. weary of her confinement, and wishing to return to her father coeus, she arrived near his dominions, where, fatigued with her journey, she begged a drop of water from the peasants, whose cruel refusal to aid her she punished by changing them into frogs. [illustration] { } "the goddess came, and kneeling on the brink, stooped at the fresh repast, prepared to drink: then thus, being hindered by the rabble race, in accents mild expostulates the case: 'water i only ask, and sure 'tis hard from nature's common rights to be debarred. this, as the genial sun, and vital air, should flow alike to every creature's share; one draught, as dear as life i should esteem, and water, now i thirst, would nectar seem: oh! let my little babes your pity move, and melt your hearts to charitable love: they (as by chance they did) extend to you their little hands, and my request pursue!' yet they the goddess's request refuse, and, with rude words, reproachfully abuse. her thirst by indignation was suppressed; bent on revenge, the goddess stood confessed! 'and may you live,' she passionately cried, 'doomed in that pool for ever to abide!' the goddess has her wish----" ovid. [illustration] during her residence at her father's court, niobe, daughter of tantalus, had the insolence to prefer herself to latona, who had but two children, while niobe possessed seven sons and seven daughters. she even ridiculed the worship which was paid to latona, observing, that she had a better claim to altars and sacrifices than the mother of apollo. this insolence provoked latona, and she entreated her children to punish the arrogant niobe. her prayers were granted, and immediately all the sons of niobe expired by the { } darts of apollo, and all the daughters, except one, who was married, were equally destroyed by diana; while niobe, stricken by the greatness of the misfortune which had overwhelmed her, was changed into stone. the bodies of niobe's children were left unburied in the plains for nine successive days, because jupiter changed into stones all such as attempted to inter them. on the tenth, they were honoured with a funeral by the gods. while apollo resided at the court of jupiter, he retained the title of the god of light; and though many writers consider phoebus and apollo to be different deities, there can be no doubt that the worship which is offered to phoebus, as the sun, is due also to apollo; and indeed, under both titles is he addressed by ancients, as well as moderns. "giver of glowing light! though but a god of other days, the kings and sages, of wiser ages, still live and gladden in thy genial rays! "king of the tuneful lyre! still poets hymns to thee belong, though lips are cold, whereon of old, thy beams all turned to worshipping and song! "lord of the dreadful bow! none triumph now for python's death but thou dost save from hungry grave, the life that hangs upon a summer's breath! "father of rosy day! no more thy clouds of incense rise; but waking flowers, at morning hours, give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies! "god of the delphic fane! no more thou listenest to hymns sublime; but they will leave, on winds at eve, a solemn echo to the end of time!" hood. by the invention of phoebus, medicine became known to the world, as he granted to �sculapius the secrets of this miraculous art, who afterwards sought to raise the dead, and while in the act of bringing { } to life hippolitus, son of theseus, jupiter enraged with his impiety, smote him with a thunderbolt. indignant at the punishment which had been awarded �sculapius, apollo sought the isle of lemnos, to immolate the cyclops to his indignation, who had forged the thunderbolt. [illustration] but so insolent an act could not remain unpunished, and jupiter exiled him from heaven. while on earth, he loved the nymph daphne, and mercury who had invented the lyre, gave it to him that he might the more effectually give vent to his passion. this lyre, was formed of the shell of a tortoise, and composed of seven cords, while to its harmonious tones were raised the walls of troy. in vain, however, were the sweet sounds of the lyre tuned, to soften daphne whose affection rested with another, and was insensible to that of apollo, though he pursued her with fervour for a year. daphne, still inexorable, was compelled to yield to the fatigue which oppressed her, when the gods, at her entreaty, changed her into a laurel. apollo took a branch and formed it into a crown, and to this day the laurel remains one of the attributes of the god. the leaves of this tree are believed to possess the property of preserving from thunder, and of making dreams an image of reality to those who place it beneath their pillow. --------------------"her feet she found benumbed with cold, and fastened to the ground, a filmy rind about her body grows, her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs, { } the nymph is all into a laurel gone, the smoothness of her skin remains alone; to whom the god: "because thou canst not be my mistress, i espouse thee for my tree; be thou the prize of honour and renown, the deathless poet and the poem crown! thou shalt the roman festivals adorn, and after poets, be by victors worn! thou shalt returning cæsar's triumph grace, when pomp shall in a long procession pass; wreathed on the posts before his palace wait, and be the sacred guardian of the gate; secure from thunder and unharmed by jove, unfading as the immortal powers above; and as the locks of phoebus are unshorn so shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn." ovid. however earnest apollo might have been in his pursuit of daphne, he did not long remain inconsolable, but formed a tender attachment for leucothoe, daughter of king orchamus, and to introduce himself with greater facility, he assumed the shape and features of her mother. their happiness was complete, when clytie, her sister, who was enamoured of the god, and was jealous of his amours with leucothoe, discovered the whole intrigue to her father, who ordered his daughter to be buried alive. apollo passing by accident over the tomb which contained her, heard her last melancholy cries, but unable to save her from death, he sprinkled nectar and ambrosia over her tomb, which penetrating as far as the body, changed it into the beautiful tree that bears the frankincense; while the unhappy clytie, tormented by remorse, and disdained by the god, was changed into a sunflower, the plant which turns itself without ceasing, towards its deity, the sun. "on the bare earth she lies, her bosom bare, loose her attire, dishevelled is her hair; nine times the morn unbarred the gates of light, as oft were spread the alternate shades of night, so long no sustenance the mourner knew, unless she drank her tears, or sucked the dew, she turned about, but rose not from the ground, turned to the sun still as he rolled his round; on his bright face hung her desiring eyes, till fixed to earth, she strove in vain to rise, her looks their paleness in a flower retained, but here and there, some purple streaks they gained. still the loved object the fond leaves pursue, still move their root, the moving sun to view and in the heliotrope the nymph is true." ovid. { } these unhappy endeavours of apollo, determined him to take refuge in friendship, and he attached himself to the young hyacinth; ----"hyacinth, long since a fair youth seen, whose tuneful voice turned fragrance in his breath, kissed by sad zephyr, guilty of his death." hood. but misfortune appeared to cling to all who were favoured by apollo, for as they played at quoits with zephyr, the latter fired by jealousy, blew the quoit of apollo on the forehead of the unhappy mortal, who fell dead upon the green turf on which they were playing; while his blood sinking into the ground, produced the flower which still bears his name. [illustration] "flower! with a curious eye we scan thy leaf, and there discover how passion triumphed--pain began-- or in the immortal, or the man, the hero, or the lover. "the disk is hurled:--ah! fatal flight! low droops that beauteous brow: but oh! the delian's pang! his light of joy lies quenched in sorrow's night: the deathless record _thou_. "or, do they tell, these mystic signs, the self destroyer's madness? phrensy, ensanguined wreaths entwines: the sun of chivalry declines;-- the wreck of glory's gladness!" apollo was so disconsolate at the death of hyacinth, that, as we have seen, he changed his blood into a flower which bore his name, and placed his body among the constellations. { } the spartans established yearly festivals in his honour, which continued for three days; they did not adorn their hair with garlands during their festivals, nor eat bread, but fed only upon sweetmeats. they did not even sing pæans in honour of apollo, or observe any of the solemnities usual at other sacrifices. ----"pitying the sad death of hyacinthus when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him, zephyr, penitent, who now, ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." keats. saddened by his efforts to form an endearing friendship, apollo once more sighed for the nymph perses, daughter of ocean, and had by her the celebrated circe, remarkable for her knowledge of magic and venomous herbs. bolina, another nymph to whom he was attached, wishing to escape from his pursuit, threw herself into the waves, and was received by the nymphs of amphitrion. "i staid awhile to see her throw her tresses back, that all beset the fair horizon of her brow, with clouds of jet. "i staid a little while to view her cheek, that wore in place of red, the bloom of water, tender blue, daintily spread. "i staid to watch a little space her parted lips, if she would sing; the waters closed above her face, with many a ring. "and still i stayed a little more,-- alas! she never comes again, i throw my flowers from the shore and watch in vain." hood. after this, apollo lost the young cyparissus, who had replaced hyacinth in his favour, and guarded his flocks; this young shepherd having slain by accident a stag of which apollo was fond, expired of grief, and was changed into the tree which bears his name. apollo now attached himself to the sybil of cumes, and granted to her the boon of prolonging her life as many years as there were grains in a handful of sand which she held. but she lived to repent of this frightful gift. alone in the world, her friends departed, and none to remind { } her of the days of the past, she implored the gods to release her from the misery which overwhelmed her. cassandra, daughter of priam, consented to her prayer, if apollo would grant to her the power of divination. apollo agreed, and swore to the truth of his promise by the river styx. scarcely had he uttered the oath, than the gods, who could not absolve him from it, rallied him on his folly. irritated at the ridicule they poured upon him, he added to this gift, the restriction, that she should never believe her own prophecies. after this he again yielded to the power of love, and sought to please clymene, who was the mother of phæton. to this nymph succeeded the chaste castalia, whom he pursued to the very foot of parnassus, where the gods metamorphosed her into a fountain. as apollo was lamenting his loss on the bank of that river, he heard an exquisite melody escaping from the depth of the wood. he approached the place from whence the sound seemed to issue, and recognized the nine muses, children of jupiter and mnemosyne. [illustration] "mnemosyne, in the pierian grove, the scene of her intrigue with mighty jove, the empress of eleuther, fertile earth, brought to olympian jove the muses forth; blessed offsprings, happy maids, whose powerful art can banish cares, and ease the painful heart. * * * * * * clio begins the lovely tuneful race, which melpomene and euterpe grace; terpischore, all joyful in the choir, and erato, to love whose lays inspire; to these thalia and polymnia join, urania and calliope divine." hesiod. { } the taste and feelings of apollo responded to those of these noble sisters: they received him in their palace, and assembled together with him to converse on the arts and sciences. among their possessions, the muses and apollo had a winged horse, named pegasus. this courser, born of the blood of medusa, fixed his residence on mount helicon, and, by striking the earth with his foot, caused the spring of hippocrene to gush from the ground. while the courser was thus occupied, apollo mounted his back, placed the muses with him, and pegasus, lifting his wings, carried them to the court of bacchus. [illustration] envious of the fame of apollo at this court, marsyas, the phrygian, declared that, with his flute, he could surpass the melody of the god's divine lyre, and challenged apollo to a trial of his skill as a musician; the god accepted the challenge, and it was mutually agreed, that he who was defeated should be flayed alive. the muses were appointed umpires. each exerted his utmost skill, and the victory was adjudged to apollo. the god, upon this, tied his opponent to a tree, and punished him as had been agreed. the { } death of marsyas was universally lamented; the fauns, satyrs and dryads, wept at his fate, and from their abundant tears flowed a river of phrygia, well known by the name of marsyas. [illustration] undeterred by this example, pan, favourite of midas, king of lydia, wished also to compete with apollo in the art of which the latter was master. pan began the struggle, and midas repeated his songs with enthusiasm, without paying the least attention to his celestial rival. pan again sang, and midas repeated; when, to his surprise, the latter felt, pressing through his hair, a pair of ears, long and shaggy. alarmed at this phenomenon, pan took to flight, and the prince, desolate at the loss of his favourite, made one of his attendants, some say his wife, the confidant of his misfortune, begging her not to betray his trust. the secret was too great for the bosom of its holder; she longed to tell it, but dared not, for fear of punishment; and as the only way of consoling herself, sought a retired and lonely spot, where she threw herself on the earth, whispering "king midas has the ears of an ass, king midas has the ears of an ass." not long after her visit, some reeds arose in this place; and as the wind passed through them, they repeated, "king midas has the ears of an ass." enraged, no less than terrified, at this extraordinary occurrence, midas sacrificed to bacchus, who, to console, granted him the special favour of turning all that he touched into fine gold. "midas the king, as in the book appears, by phoebus was endowed with ass's ears, which under his long locks he well concealed; as monarch's vices must not be revealed: for fear the people have them in the wind. who long ago were neither dumb nor blind: { } nor apt to think from heaven their title springs, since jove and mars left off begetting kings. this midas knew, and durst communicate, to none but to his wife his ears of state: one must be trusted, and he thought her fit, as passing prudent, and a parlous wit. to this sagacious confessor he went, and told her what a gift the gods had sent: but told it under matrimonial seal, with strict injunction never to reveal. the secret heard, she plighted him her troth, (and secret sure is every woman's oath,) the royal malady should rest unknown, both for her husband's honour and her own. but ne'ertheless she pined with discontent, the counsel rumbled till it found a vent. the thing she knew she was obliged to hide: by interest and by oath the wife was tied: but if she told it not the woman died. loth to betray her husband and a prince, but she must burst or blab, and no pretence of honour tied her tongue in self defence. the marshy ground commodiously was near, thither she ran, and held her breath for fear lest, if a word she spoke of any thing, that word might be the secret of the king. thus full of council to the fen she went, full all the way, and longing for a vent. arrived, by pure necessity compelled, on her majestic marrow-bones she kneeled, then to the water's brink she laid her head, and, as a bittern sounds within a reed, 'to thee alone, oh! lake,' she said, 'i tell, and as thy queen, command thee to conceal, beneath his locks, the king my husband wears a goodly, royal pair of ass's ears. now i have eased my bosom of the pain, till the next longing fit returns again!'" ovid. the story of phaeton, (son of apollo under the name of phoebus) is as follows: venus becoming enamoured of phaeton, entrusted him with the care of one of her temples. this distinguished favour of the goddess rendered him vain and aspiring; and when told, to check his pride, that he was not the son of phoebus, phaeton resolved to know his true origin; and at the instigation of his mother, he visited the palace of the sun, to beg that phoebus, if he really were his father, would give him proofs of his paternal tenderness, and convince the world of his legitimacy. phoebus swore by the styx that he would grant him whatever he required; and phaeton demanded of him to drive his chariot (that of the sun) for one day. in vain phoebus represented the impropriety of his request, and { } the dangers to which it would expose him; the oath must be complied with. when phaeton received the reins from his father, he immediately betrayed his ignorance and incapacity. the flying horses took advantage of his confusion, and departed from their accustomed track. phaeton repented too late of his rashness, for heaven and earth seemed threatened with an universal conflagration, when jupiter struck the rider with a thunderbolt, and hurled him headlong into the river po. his body, consumed by fire, was found by the nymphs of the place, and honoured with a decent burial. the heliades, his sisters wept for four months, without ceasing, until the gods changed them into poplars, and their tears into grains of amber; while the young king of the ligurians, a chosen friend of phaeton, was turned into a swan at the very moment he was yielding to his deep regrets. aurora is also the daughter of apollo. she granted the gift of immortality to tithonus, her husband, son of the king of troy; but soon perceiving that the gift was valueless, unless the power of remaining ever young was joined with it, she changed him into a grasshopper. from their union sprang memnon, who was killed by achilles at the siege of troy. the tears of his mother were the origin of the early dew, and the egyptians formed, in honour of him, the celebrated statue which possessed the wonderful property of uttering a melodious sound every morning at sunrise, as if in welcome of the divine luminary, like that which is heard at the breaking of the string of a harp when it is wound up. this was effected by the rays of the sun when they fell on it. at its setting, the form appeared to mourn the departure of the god, and uttered sounds most musical and melancholy; this celebrated statue was dismantled by the order of cambyses, when he conquered egypt, and its ruins still astonish modern travellers by their grandeur and beauty. "unto the sacred sun in memnon's fane, spontaneous concords quired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam, responsive rings the living lyre, and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." darwin. apollo having slain with his arrows, python, a monstrous serpent which desolated the beautiful country around parnassus, his victory was celebrated in all greece by the young pythians; where crowns, { } formed at first of the branches of oak, but afterwards of laurel, were distributed to the conquerors, and where they contended for the prize of dancing, music and poetry. it is from his encounter with this serpent, that in the statues which remain of him, our eyes are familiar with the bow placed in his grasp. ----------------"the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poesy, and light, the sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow, all radiant from his triumph in the fight; the shaft hath just been shot--the arrow, bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, and majesty, flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity. "but in his delicate form, a dream of love, shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast longed for a deathless lover from above, and maddened in that vision, are exprest all that ideal beauty ever blest the mind with, in its most unearthly mood, when each conception was a heavenly guest, a ray of immortality, and stood star like, around, until they gathered to a god! "and if it be prometheus stole from heaven the fire which we endure, it was repaid by him to whom the energy was given, which this poetic marble hath arrayed with an eternal glory, which if made by human hands, is not of human thought, and time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid one ringlet in the dust, nor hath it caught a tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought." byron. but the gods grew jealous of the homage shewn to apollo, and recalling him from earth, replaced him in his seat at olympus. the fable of apollo is, perhaps, that which is most spread over the faith of antiquity. pæans were the hymns chanted in his honour, and this was the war cry he shouted in his onset against the serpent python. on his altars are immolated a bull or a white lamb--to him is offered the crow, supposed to read the future, the eagle who can gaze on the sun, the cock whose cry welcomes his return, and the grasshopper, who sings during his empire. this god is represented in the figure of a young man without beard, with curling locks of hair, his brow wreathed with laurels, and his head surrounded with beams of light. in his right hand { } he holds a bow and arrows; in the left, a lyre with seven chords, emblem of the seven planets to which he grants his celestial harmony. sometimes he carries a buckler, and is accompanied by the three graces, who are the animating deities of genius and the fine arts, and at his feet is placed a swan. [illustration] he had temples and statues in every country, particularly in egypt, greece, and italy; the most famous was that of delos, where they celebrated the pythian games, that of soractes, where the priests worshipped by treading with their naked feet on burning coals, though without feeling pain, and that of delphi, in which the youth of the place offered to the gods their locks of hair, possibly because this offering was most difficult to the vanity of youth. apollo made known his oracles through the medium of a sibyl. this was a female, named also a pythoness, on account of her seat being formed of massive gold resembling the skin of the serpent python. the history of the tripod will be found to afford much interest. the fishermen who had found it in their nets, sought the oracle to consult its responses. this was to offer it to the wisest man in greece. they presented it to thales, who had told them that the most difficult of all human knowledge was the art of knowing ourselves. thales offered the tripod to bias. when the enemy was reducing his native city to ashes, he withdrew, leaving behind him his wealth, saying, "i carry all that is worthy within myself." after frequent adventures, and passing into the possession of many, the tripod finally returned to thales, and was deposited in the temple; where, as we have seen, it served the sibyl for a seat. { } this story shows us at a glance, the principles and the conduct of the greatest philosophers of greece. these sages who considered philosophy to consist in the science of practising virtue, and living happily, endeavoured to show by the adventures of the tripod that, though the way was sometimes different, the end was the same. the sibyl delivered the answer of the god to such as came to consult the oracle, and while the divine inspiration was on her, her eyes sparkled, her hair stood on end, and a shivering ran through her body. in this convulsive state, she spoke the oracles of the deity, often with loud howlings and cries, and her articulations were taken down by the priest, and set in order. sometimes the spirit of inspiration was more gentle, and not always violent, yet plutarch mentions one of the priestesses who was thrown into such excessive fury, that not only those who consulted the oracle, but also the priests who conducted her to the sacred tripod, and attended her during her inspiration, were terrified and forsook the temple; and so violent was the fit, that she continued for some days in the most agonizing situation, and at last died. it was always required that those who consulted this oracle should make presents to apollo, and from thence arose the opulence, splendour, and magnificence, of the temple of delphi. there were other temples of apollo more celebrated, such as that at palmyra, which was constructed of the most gigantic proportions; and for which nothing was spared to give it a magnificence hitherto unknown. augustus, who pretended to be the son of apollo, built a temple to him on mount palatine. delian feasts were those which the athenian, and the other greek states celebrated every four years at delos. the history of the muses is so closely allied to that of apollo that we shall present some of their adventures in this part of our work. the first is the struggle which the muses maintained against the nine daughters of pierus, king of macedon, who dared to dispute with them the palm of singing; being overcome, they were turned into magpies, and since their transformation, they have preserved the talent so dear to beauty, of being able in many words to express very little. [illustration] one day when the muses were distant from their place of abode, a storm surprised them, and they took shelter in the palace of pyrenæus: but scarcely had they entered, when the tyrant shut the { } gates, and sought to offer them insult. they immediately spread their wings and flew away. the king wishing to fly after them, essayed the daring adventure, and throwing himself from the top of the tower as if he had wings, was killed in the attempt. notwithstanding the high reputation of the muses, it is pretended by some, that rheseus was the son of terpsichore, linus of clio, and orpheus of calliope. arion and pindar were also stated to be the children of the muses, to whom the romans built a temple and consecrated a fountain. [illustration] * * * * * { } diana. ------ the goddess diana was daughter of jupiter and latona, and twin sister to apollo. in heaven she bore another name, and conducted the chariot of the moon, while on earth she presided over the chase, was the peculiar deity of hunters, and called diana. in hell she is named hecate and revered by magicians. -----------"hecate, loved by jove, and honour'd by the inhabitants above, profusely gifted from the almighty hand, with power extensive o'er the sea and land; and great the honour, she, by jove's high leave, does from the starry vault of heaven receive. when to the gods the sacred flames aspire, does from the starry vault of heaven receive. from human offerings, as the laws require, to hecate the vows are first prefer'd; happy of men whose prayers are kindly heard, success attends his every act below, honour, wealth, power, to him abundant flow." hesiod. [illustration] she was also the goddess of chastity, and it was in this character that her vengeance fell so heavily on actæon, who following the chase one day with all the ardour of his profession, unhappily came { } suddenly on the retired spot, in which the pure diana, with her nymphs, was enjoying, in the heat of the summer's day, the luxury of bathing. horrified by this violation, though unintentional, of her privacy, she changed him into a stag, and inspiring with madness the dogs that accompanied him to the chase, they turned upon their metamorphosed master, who, in horrible dread of the fate he had himself so often inflicted, fled rapidly from them. true to their breed, however, the dogs succeeded in running him down and devouring him. calista, nymph of diana was seduced by jupiter, who taking one of the innumerable shapes, which he is described as assuming when his passions were inflamed towards any particular nymph, introduced himself to her in the form of her mistress, and in this shape, what wonder that the nymph lost her virtue, or that the god was successful! diana herself, however, took a very different view, and though calista concealed the effects of her divine intrigue from her mistress for a long time, the latter noticed the alteration in her person when bathing in "such streams as dian loves, and naiads of old frequented; when she tripped amidst her frolic nymphs, laughing, or when just risen from the bath, she fled in sport, round oaks and sparkling fountains, chased by the wanton orcades." barry cornwall. to evince her detestation of the crime, her divine mistress changed her into a bear. this however was before "the veiled dian lost her lonely sphere, and her proud name of chaste, for him whose sleep drank in elysium on the latmos steep." bulwer. in great horror at this transformation, calista fled to the forests and brought forth a son, with whom she dwelt, until one day she was induced to enter a temple at lycaen (where, with her son arcas, she had been brought), and which it was not lawful to enter. the dwellers in the city, among whom was arcas, enraged at the desecration, attacked her, and in all probability, she would have perished by the hands of her son, had not jupiter snatched both to the sky, and placed them among the constellations, calista being called "the great bear," and arcas, "the little bear." { } �neas, king of calydon, neglecting the worship of diana, the goddess revenged it by sending into his kingdom a monstrous wild boar; and to rid their country of its ravages, he caused the greek princes to assemble to the chase. atalanta, daughter of the king of arcadia, wounded him first, but she would have fallen beneath the fury of its revenge, had it not been for meleager, son of �neas, who slew the boar. a quarrel having arisen for the possession of the head of this monster, meleager killed his brothers. indignant at this crime, the wife of �neas threw into the flames a brand which bore with it the life of meleager; a fire immediately spread itself through the vitals of the prince, and he expired in the midst of torments, the most cruel and excruciating, and his mother, stricken with despair at the sight of them, destroyed herself, and the sisters of the unhappy victim were changed into fowls. diana is usually represented in the costume of a huntress, with a quiver on her shoulder, and a bow in her hand; her dress is lifted, and her dog is always by her side ready for his prey. her hair is banded over her brow, while sometimes a crescent is painted on her head, of which the points are turned towards heaven. sometimes she is seen in a chariot trained by stags, and in her hand is a torch which serves to frighten away the wild beasts. the affection of this goddess for endymion-- ------------------"whom she, the moonlit dian on the latmian hill, when all the woods, and all the winds were still, kissed with the kiss of immortality" barry cornwall. has been the cause of many an ode, and many a touching story, and is perhaps, one of the most chaste, or at least most chastely told in mythology: "he was a poet, sure a lover too who stood on latmos top, what time there blew soft breezes from the myrtle vale below and brought in faintness, solemn, sweet, and slow a hymn from dian's temple; while up-swelling the incense went to her own starry dwelling. but though her face was clear as infant's eyes, though she stood smiling o'er the sacrifice, the poet wept at her so piteous fate, wept that such beauty should be desolate: so in fine wrath some golden sounds he won, and gave meek cynthia her endymion." keats. { } the beautiful endymion, grandchild of jupiter, having dared to offer his guilty love to juno, he was condemned to live for ever in the infernal regions. however, smitten with his charms, as diana saw him sleeping on the mountain of latmos, she snatched him from the power of pluto, and placed him in a grotto, where she came down from heaven every night to enjoy his society. [illustration] ----------"crescented dian, who 'tis said once wandered from the wastes of blue, and all for love; filling a shepherd's dreams with beauty and delight. he slept, he slept, and on his eyelids white, the huntress wept till morning, and looked thro', on nights like this his lashes dark, and left her dewy kiss; but never more upon the latmos hill may she descend to kiss that forest boy, and give--receive, gentle and innocent joy when clouds are distant far and winds are still: her bound is circumscribed, and curbed her will. those were immortal stories: are they gone? the pale queen is dethroned--endymion hath vanished--; and the worship of this earth is vowed to golden gods of vulgar birth!" barry cornwall. the fable of endymion's amours with diana, or the moon, arises from his knowledge of astronomy: and as he passed the night { } on some high mountain, to observe the heavenly bodies, it has been reported that he was courted by the moon. ----------------"oh! woodland queen, what smoothest air, thy smoother forehead woos? where dost thou listen to the wide halloos of thy departed nymphs? through what dark tree glimmers thy crescent? whatsoe'er it be 'tis in the breath of heaven: thou dost taste freedom, as none can taste it, nor dost waste thy loveliness in dismal elements. but finding in our green earth sweet contents, there livest blissfully." keats. [illustration] the mode of worship to diana, differs in different nations. the most celebrated of her temples was that at ephesus, which from its grandeur and magnificence has been placed among the seven wonders of the world, but was burned by erostratus, the same day that alexander the great was born. this madman had no other end, than to render his name for ever notorious, and he succeeded, notwithstanding the ephesians having decreed that his name should never be mentioned. in one of the temples where diana was worshipped, the presiding priest was always a slave who had slain his predecessor in office, and warned by the fate he had inflicted on others, he never went without a dagger, to protect himself from those who might be ambitious of his office, and reckless of his crime. { } in another, she had an altar, whereon they immolated all those whom shipwreck had thrown on their inhospitable shores. [illustration] "mother of light! how fairly dost thou go over those hoary crests, divinely led! art thou that huntress of the silver bow fabled of old?---- ---- ---- ---- * * * * * * what art thou like? sometimes i see thee ride a far bound galley on its perilous way, whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray-- sometimes i watch thee on from steep to steep, timidly lighted by thy vestal torch, till in some latmian cave i see thee creep to catch the young endymion asleep, leaving thy splendour at the jagged porch! "oh! thou art beautiful, however it be, huntress, or dian, or whatever named, and he the veriest pagan, that first framed a silver idol, and ne'er worshipped thee! it is too late, or thou shouldst have my knee; too late now for the old ephesian vows, and not divine the crescent on thy brows: yet call thee nothing but the mere, mild moon, behind those chesnut boughs casting their dappled shadows at my feet; i will be grateful for that simple boon in many a thoughtful verse, and anthem sweet, and bless thy dainty face whene'er we meet. "so let it be: before i lived to sigh, thou wert in avon, and a thousand rills, beautiful dian! and so whene'er i lie trodden, thou wilt be gazing from thy hills. blest be thy loving light, where'er it spills, and blessed thy fair face, o mother mild! still shine, the soul of rivers as they run, still lend thy lonely lamp, to lovers fond, and blend their plighted shadows into one: still smile at even on the bedded child, and close his eyelids with thy silver wand." hood. * * * * * { } bacchus. ------ [illustration] semele, daughter of cadmus, king of thebes, had yielded to the licentious jupiter, and felt within her the effect of her indiscretion. jealous at the object who had again taken her lord's affections, juno sought for some mode in which to punish her, and taking the form of a nurse, suggested the desire of beholding the king of the gods, arrayed in all his celestial glory. in vain did jupiter, when pressed by semele, implore her not to ask him to assume that form, which was too much for mortal eye to bear. woman's wit and woman's fondness prevailed, and, in a moment of weakness, the god swore by the styx, he would perform her request, and by this oath he was forced to abide. armed with thunder, as a proof of his divinity, and in all the glory and majesty of his godhead, he presented himself to the presumptuous mortal, who, unable to bear his presence, fell scorched by his thunderbolt. jupiter, however, took the infant which semele bore him, and confided it to the guardianship of the nymphs of the mountain of nysa, who, for their care of the son of jupiter, in process of time, were translated into heaven. when bacchus, for thus was he { } named, had grown out of their guidance, silenus became his preceptor and foster-father. this god, who is generally represented as fat and jolly, riding on an ass, crowned with flowers, and always intoxicated, could scarcely be considered as a tutor from whom bacchus was likely to derive much good. in spite of the education he received through the medium of this being, however, the love of glory shone forth conspicuously in bacchus. after having valiantly combatted for jupiter against the giants when they invaded olympus, he undertook his celebrated expedition into the east, to which he marched at the head of an army, composed of men as well as of women, all inspired with divine fury, armed with thyrsuses, and bearing cymbals, and other musical instruments. the leader was drawn in a chariot by a lion and a tiger, and was accompanied by pan, silenus, and all the satyrs. his conquests were easy and without bloodshed; the people easily submitted, and gratefully elevated to the rank of a god, the hero who taught them the use of the vine, the cultivation of the earth, and the manner of making honey; amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect to his divinity. the refusal of pentheus to acknowledge the godhead of bacchus was fatal. he forbad his subjects to pay adoration to this new god, and when the theban women had gone out of the city to celebrate his orgies, he ordered the god himself who conducted the religious multitude, to be seized. his orders were obeyed, but the doors of the prison in which bacchus was confined, opened of their own accord. pentheus became more irritated, and commanded his soldiers to destroy the band of bacchanals. bacchus, however, inspired the monarch himself with an ardent desire of witnessing the orgies. accordingly he hid himself in a wood on mount cithoeron, from whence he hoped to view all the ceremonies unperceived. but his curiosity proved fatal; he was descried by the bacchanals, who rushed upon him. his mother was the first to attack him, her example was instantly followed by his two sisters, and his body was torn to pieces. as bacchus was returning triumphantly in his ship, from the conquest we have recorded, crowned with vine leaves, and flushed with victory, in passing near a beautiful island, he heard a plaintive { } voice and beheld a female, who implored him to yield her his support. [illustration] "oh! think of ariadne's utter trance, crazed by the flight of that disloyal traitor, who left her gazing on the green expanse, that swallowed up his track; oh! what could mate her even in the cloudy summit of her woe, when o'er the far sea-brine she saw him go! "for even now she bows and bends her gaze, o'er the eternal waste, as if to sum its waves by weary thousands; all her days, dismally doom'd! meanwhile the billows come, and coldly dabble with her quiet feet, like any bleaching stones they wont to greet. and thence into her lap have boldly sprung, washing her weedy tresses to and fro, that round her crouching knees have darkly hung, but she sits careless of waves' ebb and flow: like a lone beacon on a desert coast showing where all her hope was wrecked and lost." hood. it was ariadne who addressed him, daughter of memnos, whom theseus, conqueror of the minotaur had abandoned after having seduced her. the god was so smitten with the candour and beauty of his youthful petitioner, that he married her, and offered to her acceptance a crown of seven stars, which after her death, was formed into a constellation. { } "where the rude waves in dian's harbour play the fair forsaken ariadne lay; here first the wretched maid was taught to prove, the bitter pangs of ill-rewarded love, here saw just freed from a fallacious sleep, her theseus flying o'er the distant deep; wistful she looked, nor what she saw, believed, hoped some mistake, and wished to be deceived: while the false youth his way securely made, his faith forgotten, and his vows unpaid; then sick with grief, and frantic with despair, her dress she rent, and tore her golden hair. the gay tiara on her temples placed, the fine wrought cincture that her bosom graced, the fillets, which her heaving breasts confined, are rent, and scattered in the lawless wind. such trivial cares, alas! no room can find, her dear, deceitful theseus fills her mind; for him alone she grieves the live-long day, sickens in thought, and pines herself away. * * * * * * to her relief the blooming bacchus ran, and with him brought his ever jovial train: satyrs and fauns, in wanton chaces strove, while the god sought his ariadne's love. around in wild distorted airs they fly, and make the mountains echo to their cry: some brandish high an ivy woven spear, the limbs, some scatter, of a victim steer: others in slippery folds of serpents shine, others apart, perform the rites divine. to wicked men denied. these, tabors take, these in their hands, the twinkling cymbals shake; while many swell the horn in hoarser strain, and make the shrill, discordant pipe complain, while bacchus, now enamoured of his prize, resolved to make her partner of the skies: she, sweetly blushing, yielded to the god, his car he mounted and sublimely rode: and while with eager arms he grasped the fair, lashed his fleet tigers through the buxom air." dryden. it was not long before bacchus formed an attachment to erigone, the daughter of icarius, and to accomplish his purpose took the form of a bunch of grapes; scarcely was it pressed upon her lips, than she felt thrilling through her frame, the effects of the sweet intoxication. the shepherds residing in the neighbourhood of athens, having come into the vine-yard of icarius, drank to such excess of the juice which was so temptingly presented to their sight, that, in the fury of their intoxication, they slew their host, and threw him into a deep well. { } to expiate his crime, the icarian games were instituted, and mera the trusty dog of icarius, having conducted erigone to the fatal well, she hung herself in the first madness of her grief; while mera, the faithful animal, overwhelmed with consternation at the loss of all he loved, died in sorrow. icarius was changed into the star bootes, erigone took the sign of the virgin, and mera that of the dog-star. to console himself for his loss, the god of the grape paid a visit to proserpine, and the beautiful wife of pluto, was by no means insensible to his merits; but after an absence of three years, bacchus returned to ariadne, whose truth and sweetness of disposition, were untouched by his forgetfulness; and from this time it is pleasing to relate that her wisdom and her faithfulness were rewarded by a constancy, which never afterwards deceived her. one of the most pleasant stories in the whole range of mythology, is related of the youth bacchus. when dwelling in the isle of naxos, where he had been for some years, becoming oppressed with the heat of the sun, he threw himself on the sea-shore, and fell fast asleep; some pirates who called there for water, struck with his extreme beauty, seized the dreaming boy with the determination of selling him for a slave: and so sound was the sleep of the god, that they had proceeded for a long space on their journey before he awoke. fully aware of his divine origin, the deity determined to make a sport of these bold robbers; and pretending the utmost terror, he implored them to say how he came there, and what they were going to do with him. "you have nothing to fear," was the reply, "only tell us what your wish is, and it shall be complied with." "i live at naxos," said the boy, "and there i would fain find myself." perceiving that they continued to steer the wrong course for naxos, bacchus threw himself at their feet, as they made for shore. "those are not the trees of naxos," he exclaimed, "i do not see the hills and valleys of my native land." a speech like this, only drew forth the laughter of his captors, while they continued to row merrily to the shore with their prize. { } "the beauteous youth now found himself betrayed, and from the deck the rising waves surveyed, and seemed to weep, and as he wept he said, 'and do you thus my easy faith beguile? thus, do you bear me to my native isle? will such a multitude of men employ their strength against a weak defenceless boy?'" but behold! the vessel becomes motionless; in vain they plied their oars, their bark moved not: and suddenly vine trees seemed to spring from the planks of the ship, mingling with the cordage and the sails, and twining round the oars, which also became immoveable. much as the sailors were astonished at this phenomenon, it was equalled by their horror, when bacchus waved a spear he held in his hand, in answer to which, tigers and panthers, with others of the most savage beasts of the desert, seemed to swim round the vessel and wanton with the waters. "the god we now behold with opened eyes, an herd of spotted panthers round him lies, in glaring forms: the grapy clusters spread, on his fair brows and dangle on his head." unable to bear the horror of the sight, the robbers threw themselves into the sea, and bacchus turned them into dolphins, then seizing the helm steered the ship towards naxos, attended by his train of dolphins and wild beasts! [illustration] on the altar of bacchus the goat was immolated, because he destroyed the bark and leaves of the vine, and the magpie, because wine makes the tongue of man to chatter like that of the bird. the ivy was consecrated to him, on account of its coolness, which dissipated the fumes of wine, and he carried in his hand a dart called the thyrsis, twined round with leaves of ivy, and of vine. the bacchantes, his ordinary priestesses, bore also in their hands the thyrsis. his feasts were celebrated every three years, and were called orgies, from a word which signifies fury and impetuosity. [illustration: the feast of bacchus.] { } [illustration] the bacchantes went into the mountains with torches in their hands, covered with the skins of tigers and panthers. "and as i sat over the light blue hills, there came a noise of revellers; the rills into the wide stream came of purple hue, 'twas bacchus and his crew. the earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills from kissing cymbals made a merry din-- 'twas bacchus and his kin. "like to a moving vintage down they came, crowned with green leaves, and faces all on flame; all madly dancing through the pleasant valley, to scare thee, melancholy! o then, o then, thou wast a simple name! and i forgot thee as the berried holly by shepherds is forgotten, when in june, tall chesnuts keep away the sun and moon, i rushed into the folly! "within his car aloft, young bacchus stood. trifling his ivy dart, in dancing mood, with sidelong laughing, and little rills of crimson wine embrued his plump white arms and shoulders, enough white, for venus pearly bite; and near him rode silenus on his ass, pelted with flowers as he on did pass, tipsily quaffing. { } "whence came ye merry damsels! whence came ye, so many, and so many, and such glee? "why have ye left your bowers desolate, your lutes and gentler nature? we follow bacchus! bacchus on the wing, a conquering! bacchus, young bacchus! good or ill betide, we dance before him through kingdoms wide: come hither, lady fair, and joined be, to our wild minstrelsy! "whence came ye, jolly satyrs! whence came ye, so many, and so many, and such glee? why have ye left your forest haunts, why left your nuts in oak tree cleft? for wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; for wine we left our heath and yellow brooms, and cold mushrooms; for wine we follow bacchus through the earth; great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth, come hither lady fair, and joined be, to our mad minstrelsy. "over wide streams and mountains great we went, and save when bacchus kept his ivy tent, onward the tiger and the leopard pants, with asian elephants: onward these myriads--with song and dance, with zebras striped, and sleek arabians prance, web-footed alligators, crocodiles, bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, plump infant laughers, mimicking the coil of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' toil: with toying oars and silken sails they glide, nor care for wind or tide. "mounted on panthers' furs, and lions' manes, from rear to van they scour about the plains; a three days' journey in a moment done, and always at the rising of the sun, about the wilds they hunt, with spear and horn, on spleenful unicorn. "i saw osirian egypt kneel adown, before the vine-wreathed crown; i saw parched abyssinia rouse and sing, to the silver cymbal's ring! i saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce old tartary the fierce, the kings of eld their jewel sceptres vail, and from their treasures scatter pearled hail; great brahma from his mystic heaven groans, and all his priesthood moans, before young bacchus' eye-wink, turning pale!" keats. however, bacchus was often found to be inspired by sentiments of a profoundly tender nature. coressus, one of his favourite priests, { } having unhappily formed a violent attachment to a maiden named callirhoe, found his love returned with hatred, and the more he sought to impress her with his affection, the more hateful did he become. unable to gain her, the priest sought the aid of his god, who, to avenge his sufferings, struck the calydonians with a continual drunkenness, many of them dying of it as of a disease. in the height of their misery they sought the oracle, which declared that their calamity would not cease, until callirhoe was sacrificed, unless some one could be found to pay the penalty for her. [illustration] the oracle must be obeyed: but who would be the substitute? parents wept, and kindred mourned, but none would offer in her stead: and the hour arrived when the unhappy maiden, guilty only of not loving, was crowned and led to the altar, where he who had once been her lover, stood ready to be her slayer. at sight of her, his passion, which had slumbered for a while, burst forth anew, and in an agony of transport, rather than strike one so loved, he { } determined to be her substitute, and on the instant slew himself in her stead. "great father bacchus, to my song repair, for clustering grapes are thy peculiar care; for thee large bunches load the bending vine, and the last blessings of the year are thine; to thee his joys the jolly autumn owes, while the fermenting juice the vat o'erflows, come steep with me, my god; come drench all o'er thy limbs in wine, and drink at every pore!" * * * * * * thus roman youth, derived from ruined troy, in rude saturnian rhymes express their joy; with taunts and laughter loud their audience please, deformed with vizards cut from bark of trees: in jolly hymns they praise the god of wine, whose earthen images adorn the pine; and there are hung on high, in honour of the vine a madness so devout the vineyard fills, in hollow valleys, and on rising hills, on whate'er side he turns his honest face, and dances in the wind, those fields are in his grace. to bacchus, therefore, let us tune our lays, and in our mother tongue resound his praise." virgil. as bacchus was the god of vintage, of wine and of drinkers, he is generally represented crowned with vine and ivy leaves, with a thyrsus in his hand. his figure is that of an effeminate young man, to denote the joys which commonly prevail at feasts; and sometimes an old man, to teach us that wine taken immoderately, will enervate us, consume our health, render us loquacious and childish, like old men, and unable to keep secrets. bacchus is sometimes represented like an infant, holding a thyrsus and clusters of grapes, with a horn. his beauty is compared to that of apollo, and like him, he is represented with fine hair, flowing loosely down his shoulders; the roundness of his limbs and visage, evidence the generous life he leads; while his smiling countenance and laughing eye, are meant to indicate the merry thoughts that are inspired by the juice of the grape. all writers agree in their delineation of the wild madness which distinguished his festivals: witness the following description of a pedestal, on which was an imitation of an altar to bacchus. "under the festoons of fruits and flowers that grace the pedestal, the corners of which are ornamented by the sculls of goats, are sculptured some figures of moenads, under the inspiration of the { } god. nothing can be conceived more wild and terrible than their gestures, touching, as they do, the verge of distortion, into which their fine limbs and lovely forms are thrown. there is nothing, however, which exceeds the possibility of nature, though it borders on its utmost line. "the tremendous spirit of superstition, aided by drunkenness, producing something beyond insanity, seems to have caught them in its whirlwinds, and to bear them over the earth, as the rapid volutions of a tempest have the everchanging trunk of a waterspout; or as the torrent of a mountain river whirls the autumnal leaves resistlessly along, in its full eddies. "the hair, loose and floating, seems caught in the tempest of their own tumultuous motion; their heads are thrown back, leaning with a kind of delirium upon their necks, and looking up to heaven, whilst they totter and stumble, even in the energy of their tempestuous dance. "one represents a faun, with the head of pentheus in one hand, and in the other a great knife. another has a spear with its pine cane, which was the thyrsus; another dances with mad voluptuousness; the fourth is beating a kind of tambourine. "this was indeed a monstrous superstition, even in greece, where it was alone capable of combining ideal beauty, and poetical and abstract enthusiasm, with the wild errors from which it sprung. in rome it had a more familiar, wicked, and dry appearance; it was not suited to the severe and exact apprehensions of the romans, and their strict morals were violated by it, and sustained a deep injury, little analagous to its effect upon the greeks, who turned all things--superstition, prejudice, murder, madness--to beauty." shelley. [illustration] * * * * * { } venus. ------ venus, one of the most celebrated deities of the ancients, was the goddess of beauty, the mother of love, the queen of laughter, the mistress of the graces, and the patroness of pleasure. some mythologists speak of more than one. of these, however, the venus sprung from the froth of the sea "where the moist zephyrs to the favoured shore, from ocean's foam the lovely goddess bore," after the mutilated body of uranus had been thrown there by saturn, is the most known, and of her in particular, ancient mythologists, as well as painters, make mention. she arose from the sea near the island of cyprus, "cytherea! whom the favoured earth of cyprus claims, exulting in thy birth bright queen! adorned with every winning grace, the smile enchanting, and the blooming face. goddess! o'er cyprus fragrant groves who reigns, and salamis high cultivated plains." horace. hither she was wafted by zephyr in a sea-shell, which served as a chariot, and received on the shore by the seasons, daughters of jupiter and themis. [illustration] she was soon after carried to heaven, where all the gods admired her beauty, and all the goddesses became jealous of her personal charms. jupiter even attempted to gain her affections, but venus refused, and the god, to fulfil her destiny, gave her in marriage to vulcan, the most ugly and deformed of the gods. this { } marriage did not prevent the goddess of love from gratifying her inclinations, and her conduct frequently tended to cast dishonour on her husband. her love for mars is perhaps the most notorious on account of the disgrace which accompanied it, while her great partiality for adonis, induced her to abandon her seat in olympus. this mortal, who was fond of the chase, was often cautioned by his mistress not to hunt wild beasts, fearful of his being killed in the attempt; this advice he however slighted, and at last received a mortal wound from a wild boar which he had speared; and great was the misery evinced by venus at his loss. "over one shoulder doth she hang her head; dumbly she passions, frantickly she doteth, she thinks he could not die, he is not dead; her voice is stopped, her joints forget to bow, her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now. * * * * * * "she looks upon his lips, and they are pale; she takes him by the hand, that is cold; she whispers in his ears a heavy tale, as if they heard the woeful words she told: she lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies." shakspere. venus, after shedding many tears at his death, changed him into a flower. "and in his blood, that on the ground lay spilled, a purple flower sprung up, checkered with white; resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood, which in round drops upon their whiteness stood." shakspere. proserpine is said to have restored him to life, on condition of his spending six months of the year with her, and six with venus, but this is a fable meant to apply to the alternate return of summer and winter. "there is a flower, anemone, the mourner's path it cheers: lo! venus, bowed with agony, by the slain huntsman bends the knee:-- it springs, a child of tears. "then hither, meekest flower!--here blow with hyacinth:--whate'er the legend, 'tis of ruth, of woe: companions meet, together grow, twin nurslings of despair." anon. the affection also which venus entertained for anchises, a youth distinguished by the most exquisite beauty, again drew her { } from heaven, and induced her often to visit, in all her glory, the woods and solitary retreats of mount ida. "she comes! the goddess; through the whispering air, bright as the morn, descends her blushing car, each circling wheel a wreath of flowers entwines, and gemmed with flowers, the silken harness shines; the golden bits with flowery studs are decked, and knots of flowers the crimson reins connect. and now on earth the silver axle rings, and the shell sinks upon its slender springs; light from her airy seat the goddess bounds, and steps celestial, press the pansied grounds." darwin. anchises, however, though warned by her not to speak of their intimacy, boasted of it one day at a feast, and was struck by thunder as a punishment for his disobedience. the power of venus over the heart, was supported and assisted by a celebrated girdle, called _zone_ by the greeks, and _cestus_ by the latins. this mysterious girdle which gave beauty, grace, and elegance when worn even by the most deformed, was irresistible when around beauty: it excited love, and kindled even extinguished flames. juno herself was indebted to this powerful ornament in gaining the favours of jupiter; and venus, though possessed of every charm, no sooner put on her cestus, than vulcan, unable to resist the influence of love, forgot all the intrigues and infidelities of his wife, and fabricated arms even for her illegitimate children. "in this was every art and every charm, to win the wisest, and the coldest warm, kind love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, the kind deceit, the still reviving fire, persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs, silence that spoke and eloquence of eyes." homer. the contest of venus for the golden apple is well known. the goddess of discord, not having been invited to the marriage of peleus and thetis, evinced her disappointment, by throwing among the assembly of the gods, who were celebrating the nuptials, a golden apple, on which was inscribed, _detur pulchriori_. all the goddesses claimed it as their own, and the contention at first became general; however, juno, venus, and minerva, were left at last to decide between them, their respective right to beauty. neither of the gods was willing, by deciding in favour of one, to draw on him { } the enmity of the remaining two, they therefore appointed paris to the unenviable task. [illustration] the goddesses appeared before their judge, and endeavoured, by profuse offers, to influence his decision. juno promised a kingdom, minerva glory, and venus the fairest woman in the world for a wife. when paris had heard their several claims, he adjudged the prize to venus, and gave her the apple, to which she seems entitled from her beauty. the worship of venus was universally established; statues and temples were erected to her in every kingdom; and the ancients were fond of paying homage to a divinity who presided over love, and by whose influence alone, mankind existed. in her sacrifices, and at the festivals celebrated in her honour, too much licentiousness prevailed: victims, however, were seldom offered to her, or her altars stained with blood. the rose, the myrtle, and the apple, were sacred to venus; among birds, the dove, the swan, and the sparrow, were her favourites. the goddess of beauty was represented among the ancients in different forms. among the most highly valued, was that in the temple of jupiter olympus, where she was represented by phidias, as rising from the sea, and crowned by the goddess of persuasion. ----------"phidias his keen chisel swayed to carve the marble of the matchless maid, that all the youth of athens, in amaze, at that cold beauty, with sad tears did gaze." thurlow. she is generally imaged with her son cupid, in a chariot drawn by doves, or at other times by swans or sparrows. the surnames of the goddess are numerous, and serve to show how well established her worship was all over the earth. she was called cypria, { } because particularly worshipped in the island of cyprus; and received the name of paphia, because at paphos, she had a temple with an altar, on which it was asserted rain never fell, though exposed in the open air. "o queen of love! whose smile all bright glads paphos and the cyprian isle, forsake those loved retreats awhile, and to the temple bend thy flight, where glycera, the young, the fair, invokes thy presence high, while clouds of incense fill the air, and waft her suppliant sigh. "bring in thy train the vengeful boy, and graces (while their robes loose flow gives glances of a breast of snow;) wantoning in their thoughtless joy. let hermes grace the jocund scene, and youth so gay and free; for what is youth, though fair, oh! queen, if destitute of thee?" horace. the cnidians worshipped her under the name of venus acræa, of doris, and of euploca. in her temple of euploca, at cnidos, was the most admired of her statues, being the most perfect piece of praxiteles. it was formed of white marble, and appeared so much like life, that, according to some historians, a youth of the place secretly introduced himself into her temple, to offer his vows of adoration before the lifeless image. hero, in pursuit of whom, leander braved the hellespont, and whose touching story will be more minutely given hereafter, was one of the priestesses of venus, and it was in this occupation that leander first saw and loved her: a love which led to results so disastrous. "come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, down looking, aye, and with a chastened light, hid in the fringes of your eye-lids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be, as if so gentle that ye could not see untouched, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewildered mid the dreary sea: 'tis young leander toiling to his death; nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. o horrid dream! see how his body dips, dead--heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile: he's gone--up bubbles all his amorous breath." keats. { } venus was also surnamed cytheræa, because she was the chief deity of cythera; phillommeis, as the queen of laughter; tellesigama, because she presided over marriage; verticordia, because she could turn the hearts of women to cultivate chastity; basilea, as the queen of love; myrtea, from the myrtle being sacred to her; mechanitis, in allusion to the many artifices practised in love; and also goddess of the sea, because born in the bosom of the waters; "behold a nymph arise, divinely fair, whom to cythera first the surges bear; hence is she borne, safe o'er the deeps profound, to cyprus, watered by the waves around: and here she walks, endowed with every grace to charm, the goddess blooming in her face; her looks demand respect, and where she goes beneath her tender feet the herbage blows; and aphrodite, from the foam, her name, among the race of gods and men the same; and cytheræa from cythera came; whence, beauteous crown'd, she safely cross'd the sea, and call'd, o cyprus, cypria from thee; nor less by philomeda known on earth, a name derived immediate from her birth: her first attendants to the immortal choir were love, the oldest god, and fair desire; the virgin whisper, and the tempting smile, the sweet allurements that can hearts beguile, soft blandishments which never fail to move, friendship, and all the fond deceits in love, constant her steps pursue, or will she go among the gods above, or men below." hesiod. as rising from the sea, the name of anadyomine is applied to her, and rendered immortal by the celebrated painting of apelles, which represented her issuing from the bosom of the waves, and wringing her tresses on her shoulder. description of the anadyomine venus. "she has just issued from the bath, and yet is animated with the enjoyment of it. she seems all soft and mild enjoyment, and the curved lines of her fine limbs, flow into each other with a never ending sinuosity of sweetness. her face expresses a breathless yet passive and innocent voluptuousness, free from affectation. her lips, without the sublimity of lofty and impetuous passion, the grandeur of enthusiastic imagination of the apollo of the capital, or the union of both like the apollo belvidere, have the tenderness of arch, yet pure and affectionate desire; and the mode in which the ends { } of the mouth are drawn in, yet lifted or half opened, with the smile that for ever circles round them, and the tremulous curve into which they are wrought, by inextinguishable desire, and the tongue lying against the lower lip, as in the listlessness of passive joy, express love, still love! "her eyes seem heavy and swimming with pleasure, and her small forehead fades on both sides into that sweet swelling, and then declension of the bone over the eye, in the mode which expresses simple and tender feelings. "the neck is full and panting, as with the aspiration of delight, and flows with gentle curves into her perfect form. "her form is indeed perfect. she is half sitting and half rising from a shell, and the fullness of her limbs, and their complete roundness and perfection, do not diminish the vital energy with which they seem to be animated. the position of the arms, which are lovely beyond imagination, is natural, unaffected and easy. this perhaps is the finest personification of venus, the deity of superficial desire, in all antique statuary. her pointed and pear-like person, ever virgin, and her attitude modesty itself." shelley. ----------"breathe softly, flutes; be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes; nor be the trumpet heard! o vain, o vain! nor flowers budding in an april rain, nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river's flow-- no, nor the oeolian twang of love's own bow, can mingle music fit for the soft ear of goddess cytheræa! yet deign, white queen of beauty, thy fair eyes on our souls' sacrifice." keats. [illustration] { } vulcan. ------ [illustration] vulcan, the son of jupiter and juno, was thrown from heaven by the former, for attempting to assist the queen of olympus when under her husband's displeasure. the whirlwind employed by jove, precipitated him into the island of lemnos. ---------"i felt his matchless might, hurled headlong downward from the ethereal height; tossed all the day in rapid circles round; nor till the sun descended, touched the ground; breathless i fell in giddy motion lost; the sinthians raised me on the lemnian coast." homer. he fell with sufficient velocity to break his thigh, an accident, which, as it made him lame, did not at all tend to render his appearance less ugly than it is usually described. --------------"his hand was known in heaven, by many a towered structure high, where sceptred angels held their residence, and sate as princes; nor was his name unheard, or unadored, in ancient greece; and in ausonian land men called him mulciber; and how he fell from heaven they fabled, thrown by angry jove sheer o'er the chrystal battlements: from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun, dropped from the zenith like a falling star, on lemnos, the �gean isle." milton. he was educated by the nymphs of the sea, and trained in his { } youth in the art of working metals, and was able to cultivate those mechanical abilities which he is represented to possess. -------------------"he taught man's earth-born race, that, like the bestial brood, haunted the rugged cave, or sheltering wood, th' inventive powers of doedal art to know, and all the joys from social life that flow; in search no more of casual seats to roam, but rear with skilful hand the lasting dome." horace. in his labours he was assisted by the cyclops, who are said by some, to have possessed but one eye, placed in the middle of the forehead. they inhabited the western part of the island of sicily; but the tradition of their only having one eye originated, in all probability, from their custom of wearing small bucklers of steel which covered their faces, with a small aperture in the middle, corresponding exactly to the eye. they were sometimes reckoned among the gods, and had a temple at corinth, where worship and sacrifices were solemnly offered. "the cyclops brethren, arrogant of heart, who forged the lightning shaft, and gave to jove his thunder; they were like unto the gods, save that a single ball of sight was fixed in their mid forehead. cyclops was their name, from that round eye-ball in their brow infixed; and strength, and force, and manual craft were theirs." hesiod. ------ "thou trusty pine! "prop of my god-like steps, i lay thee by-- bring me a hundred reeds of decent growth to make a pipe for my capacious mouth--" gay. [illustration] the first fruit of the mechanical skill of vulcan, was invented as a punishment for juno, to whom, as it was through her he fell from heaven, he attributed his deformity. this was a throne of gold, with secret springs, on which the goddess no sooner sate, than she { } found herself unable to move. in vain the gods attempted to deliver her; with vulcan, only rested the secret and the power to disenthral her; and as the price of her freedom, juno promised to procure him a wife from amongst the heavenly conclave. vulcan fixed his desires on minerva; the goddess of wisdom, however, laughed his suit to scorn, and vulcan is represented as having been very violent at his rejection. juno then pressed the suit of her son on venus, whose power was already established at the celestial court. the beautiful goddess rejected him with horror, and juno overwhelmed her with supplications; but as these could not subdue the ugliness of the suitor, she implored jupiter to exercise his power; and with all the determination of a goddess, poured so many entreaties, accompanied with tears, that the king of heaven must have complied, had it not been for the more touching and feminine attributes of venus, the soft eyes of whom filled with tears, and whose downy cheek grew pale, at the idea of the union. but destiny, the irrevocable, interposed, and pronounced the decree by which the most beautiful of the goddesses, was united to the most unsightly of the gods. during the festival which followed their union, the altar of hymen was that which received all the offerings. [illustration] a marriage thus assorted, however, was not likely to prove a happy one, and ere long it was followed by a discovery which { } created an ecstacy among the scandal-mongers of olympus. this was no less than an improper liason between mars, god of war, and the charming venus. vulcan, suspecting the infidelity of his wife, formed an invisible net around them, and drew upon the lovers the laughter of the remaining divinities. mars, betwixt rage and confusion, retired for a time to thrace, and venus took refuge in the isle of cyprus, where she gave birth to cupid. vulcan, as we have recorded, was celebrated for the ingenious works and automatical figures which he made, and many speak of two golden statues, which not only seemed animated, but which walked by his side, and assisted him in working metals. "then from the anvil the lame artist rose, wide with distorted leg, oblique he goes; and stills the bellows, and in order laid, locks in their chests his instruments of trade: with his huge sceptre graced, and red attire, came halting forth the sovereign of the fire: the monarch's steps two female forms uphold, that moved and breathed in animated gold. to whom was voice, and sense, and science given of works divine, such wonders are in heaven!" virgil. the most known of the works of vulcan, which were presented to mortals, are the arms of achilles, those of �neas, and the shield of hercules described by hesiod. the chariot of the sun was also by this deity. "a golden axle did the work uphold, gold was the beam, the wheels were orbed with gold: the spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight, the seat with parti-coloured gems was bright." ovid. the worship of vulcan was well established, particularly in egypt, at athens, and at rome. it was customary to burn the whole victim to him and not reserve part of it, as in the immolations to the remainder of the gods. he was represented as blowing with his nervous arm the fires of his forges. his vast breast hairy, and his forehead blackened with smoke; while his enormous shoulders seemed borrowed from the cyclops. some represent him lame and deformed, holding a hammer in his hand, ready to strike; while with the other, he turns a thunderbolt on his anvil, for which an eagle waits by his side to carry it to jupiter. { } he appears on some monuments with a long beard, dishevelled hair, half naked, and a small round cap on his head, while he holds a hammer and pincers in his hand. "------the vulcanean dome, eternal frame, high, eminent, amidst the works divine, where heavens far beaming mansions shine, there the lame architect the goddess found obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round; while bathed in sweat, from fire to fire he flew, and puffing loud, the roaring bellows blew." homer. it is stated that bacchus made him intoxicated after he had been expelled from olympus, and then prevailed on him to return, where he was reconciled to his parents. he seems, however, to have been retained there more for ridicule than any other purpose; and was indeed the great butt of olympus, even his wife laughing at his deformities, and mimicking his lameness to gain the smiles of her lovers. "vulcan with awkward grace, his office plies, and unextinguished laughter shakes the skies." homer. in the month of august, the vulcanalia took place at rome, streets were illuminated, fires kindled, and animals thrown into the flames as a sacrifice. romulus caused a temple to be erected in his honour, and tarquin presented to him the arms and spoils of the conquered; and to him also, was dedicated the lion. [illustration] * * * * * { } cupid. ------ this deity, "the boy-god," as poets love to call him, was the offspring of venus and mars; when venus had given birth to him, jupiter foresaw the mischief he would create in the world, as well as in his more immediate kingdom; he therefore banished him from his court, and menaced him with his wrath, should he return. the goddess conveyed him to the isle of cyprus, where he was suckled by the wild beasts of the forest. no sooner had strength come with years, than cupid, forming a bow of the ash tree, and arrows of the cypress, ungratefully turned against the animals who had supported him. "his quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold, from his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung, and from its top in brilliant chords enrolled, each little vase resplendently was slung, still as he flew, around him sportive clung his frolic train of winged zephyrs light, wafting the fragrance which his tresses flung: while odours dropped from every ringlet bright, and from his blue eyes beamed ineffable delight." mrs. tighe. experience gave confidence to the youthful deity, and when an opportunity offered, he sent his arrows to the hearts of men, so bold did he even become, that he ventured to dart one, dipped in the subtle poison against his mother. "love! oh! he breathes and rambles round the world an idol and idolator: he flies touching, with passing beauty, ringlets curled, ripe lips, and bosoms white, and starry eyes, and wheresoe'er his colours are unfurled, full many a young and panting spirit lies." barry cornwall. the nymph perestere felt his vengeance in a different manner. cupid was wandering with his mother over a meadow, beautifully enamelled with flowers "all fragrance and of various hues," when, in a playful mood, the youthful deity challenged venus to see which could gather the greatest number in the least time. cupid would have been triumphant, had not perestere, who accompanied them, attempted to win the favour of the goddess, by assisting to fill her basket. in revenge, cupid changed her into a dove. the beautiful fable of the winged deity's love for psyche, is the most pleasing of those related of him. { } the nymph psyche was one of those exquisite beings, so seldom met with in the present degenerate days; and even then, so rare was her beauty, that the people of earth looked on her almost as a divinity, and in some instances would have worshipped her in the belief that she was venus, visiting the earth. "in her bower she lay, like a snow-wreath flung, mid flowers of brightest hue: pouting roses about her hung, violets 'neath her mantle sprung, shedding their light of blue. "pillowed on one fair arm she lay, beneath her silver veil; her golden locks in wanton play, as sunbeams through the mist make way, stole round her bosom pale! "falling waters afar were heard, to lull the slumb'ring fair: yet ever and aye, her soul seemed stirred, in dove-like murmurs, as if the bird of dreams sat brooding there. "all rude winds were hushed to rest; only the enamoured south, wantoning round her swan-like breast-- the silken folds of her azure vest kissed with its fragrant mouth." anon. to one so jealous as venus, this homage paid to psyche was an enormous crime, and she determined to take vengeance for the offence, by punishing her in the tenderest part of a woman's nature; for she commanded cupid to make her fall deeply in love, with the ugliest being he could find. with the intention of fulfilling this commission, cupid visited psyche, but so beautiful was the being he came to see, that he found himself compelled to pay the same homage to her which others had done; and finished by becoming deeply enamoured himself, as he saw "upon her purple couch sweet psyche laid, her radiant lips a downy slumber sealed, in light transparent veil alone arrayed, her bosom's opening charms were half revealed, and scarce the lucid folds her polished limbs concealed. "he half relenting on her beauties gazed, just then awaking with a sudden start, her opening eye in humid lustre blazed, unseen he still remained, enchanted and amazed." mrs. tighe. fearful, however, of his mother's displeasure, he carried on the { } affair with great secrecy, and by his divine power, conveyed her to a palace he had formed in a region full of beauty: here, when the shadows of night had visited the earth, cupid sought the presence of his love. [illustration] "--------who first told how psyche went on the smooth wind to realms of wonderment? what psyche felt, and love, when their full lips first touched; * * * * * * * with all their sighs and how they kist each other's tremulous eyes: the silver lamp--the ravishment--the wonder-- the darkness--loneliness, and fearful thunder." keats. but the happiness which had fallen to the lot of the beautiful psyche, was too delightful and too pure, not to meet with something which should realize the after thought of the poet, that "the course of true love never did run smooth." the restless nature of the nymph would not allow her to remain quietly in possession or her beautiful lot, or in the enchanted place which the power of the god had raised for her, though few could be so delightful, when, "in broad pinions from the realms above, descending cupid seeks the cyprian grove; to his wide arms enamoured psyche springs and clasps her lover with aurelian wings, a purple sash across his shoulder bends, and fringed with gold the quivered shafts suspends; the bending bow obeys the silken string, and, as he steps, the silver arrows ring. thin folds of gauze, with dim transparence flow, o'er her fair forehead and her neck of snow; the winding woof her graceful limbs surrounds swells in the breeze, and sweeps the velvet grounds; { } as hand in hand along the flowery meads, his blushing bride the quivered hero leads; charmed round their heads pursuing zephyrs throng, and scatter roses as they move along; bright beams of spring in soft effusion play, and halcyon hours invite them on their way. delighted hymen hears their whispered vows, and binds his chaplets round their polished brows, guides to his altar, ties the flowery bands, and as they kneel unites their willing hands." darwin. the love which had fallen upon psyche, and the affection which dropped in honied words from cupid's lips, was so endearing, that the nymph longed to communicate the delightful story of her good fortune to her less gifted, but envious sisters. she therefore told them of the glories of her marriage; though her bridegroom had never made himself visible to her, and though to her he had no name save that fond one of husband, yet still she could talk of the beauties of her magic palace, of the musical voice of her invisible lover, and of the heart-touching and passionate endearments he bestowed on her. but all this was no pleasant intelligence to them, for with the malice of ill-nature, they determined to be revenged on her for a happiness which was no fault. they affected to believe that her husband had wicked designs in his concealment, and that he would desert his psyche if he became visible to her--or they asserted that they had no doubt though the lips and skin of this mysterious being seemed so soft to their sister, it was by the power of enchantment, and that the light would reveal a monster whose presence would astonish no less than it would frighten: and succeeded in persuading her, by their next meeting, to provide herself with the means of procuring a light, and a dagger to stab him, should he prove the monstrous being they averred. the next night came, and psyche, when she heard the thrilling tones of her husband's voice, could scarcely keep her secret. dreading the anger of her sisters, however, she waited until cupid was locked in slumber, and from its hiding place procured the light and the dagger. --------------"she softly rose, and seized the lamp--where it obscurely lay, with hand too rashly daring to disclose the sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes." tighe. { } for a time the nymph scarcely dared to cast a glance on the being she was so anxious to view; and stood half shrinking from the desired sight. ----"in her spiritual divinity, young psyche stood the sleeping eros by, what time she to the couch had, daring, trod; and, by the glad light, saw her bridegroom god! o'er him she knelt enamoured, and her sigh breathed near and nearer to his silent mouth, rich with the hoarded odours of the south!" bulwer. but who can conceive her rapturous delight, when, instead of the fearful being she dreaded, she beheld one whose every limb, and every feature, shone with a radiant and celestial beauty. "all imperceptibly to human touch, his wings display celestial essence light; the clear effulgence of the blaze is such, the brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright, that mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight; a youth he seems in manhood's freshest years; round his fair neck, as changing with delight, each golden curl resplendently appears, or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears." tighe. her eyes were rivetted on his exquisite form, until they forgot all else; even her love, her kindness, and her passionate endearments, all vanished in that long, earnest, and delighted gaze. "speechless with awe; in transport strangely lost, long psyche stood, with fixed, adoring eye; her limbs immoveable, her senses tossed between amazement, fear, and ecstacy, she hangs enamoured o'er the deity." tighe. in the trembling transport which pervaded her, however, there fell a drop of burning wax from the light which she held, on the marble-like shoulder of cupid, and he awoke. "from her trembling hand extinguished falls the fatal lamp. he starts--and suddenly tremendous thunders echo through the halls, while ruins hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls." tighe. the spell was broken--the palace vanished--the god disappeared, and psyche, mourning in bitter tears for her foolish curiosity, found herself standing on a desolate rock. { } "dread horror seizes on her sinking heart, a mortal chillness shudders at her breast, her soul shrinks, fainting, from death's icy dart, the groan scarce uttered, dies, but half expressed, and down she sinks in deadly swoon oppressed: but when at length, awaking from her trance, the terrors of her fate stood all confessed, in vain she casts around her timid glance, the rudely frowning scenes, her former joys enhance. "no traces of those joys, alas! remain; a desert solitude alone appears. no verdant shade relieves the sandy plain, the wide spread waste, no gentle fountain cheers; one barren face the dreary prospect wears; nought thro' the vast horizon meets her eye to calm the dismal tumult of her fears, no trace of human habitation nigh, a sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky." tighe. the abandoned psyche attempted to drown herself in the neighbouring waters. the stream, fearing the power of the god, returned her to earth upon a bank of flowers. she then went through the world in search of her lost love, persecuted, and subjected to numerous trials by venus; who, determined on destroying, sent her to proserpine with a box to request some of her beauty. the mission was accomplished in safety, but psyche nearly fell a victim to curiosity and avarice; for she opened the box to look at its contents, and endeavoured to take a portion of it to herself, that she might appear more beautiful in the eyes of her lost husband. on opening it, a deep slumber fell on the unwary mortal, and she lay upon the earth, until cupid, luckily escaping from the confinement to which his mother had subjected him, found his lost love, and reproached her for her curiosity. in addition to this, venus imposed upon psyche the most difficult tasks; she poured upon the nymph torments the most excruciating, and took delight in rendering her miserable, who, not content with being taken for the goddess of beauty, had concluded by seducing from her the duty of her son. jupiter, however, was moved to pity by this relentless rigour, and by the touching nature of the story; he took her up to heaven, restored cupid to his place, and making psyche immortal, gave her in marriage to the god of love, in the presence of the celestial inhabitants. to use the elegant language of mr. keightley, { } "the hours shed roses through the sky, the graces sprinkled the halls of heaven with fragrant odours, apollo plays on his lyre, the arcadian god on his reeds, the muses sing in chorus, while venus dances with grace and elegance, to celebrate the nuptials of her son." "so pure, so soft, with sweet attraction shone fair psyche, kneeling at the ethereal throne; won with coy smiles the admiring court of jove, and warmed the bosom of unconquered love. beneath a moving shade of fruits and flowers, onward they march to hymen's sacred bowers; with lifted torch he lights the festive strain, sublime, and leads them in his golden chain; joins the fond pair, indulgent to their vows, and hides with mystic veil their blushing brows. round their fair forms their mingling arms they fling, meet with warm lip, and clasp with nestling wing. hence plastic nature, as oblivion whelms her fading forms, repeoples all her realms; soft joys disport on purple plumes unfurled, and love and beauty rule the willing world." darwin. thus cupid was at length re-united to his beloved psyche, and their loves were speedily crowned by the birth of a child, whom his parents named pleasure. * * * * * psyche. ------ "oh! goddess, hear these tuneless numbers, wrung by sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, and pardon that thy secrets should be sung, even into thine own soft-couched ear: surely i dreamt to day, or did i see the winged psyche with awakened eyes? i wandered in a forest thoughtlessly, and, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, saw two fair creatures, couched side by side, in deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran a brooklet, scarce espied: 'mid hushed, cool rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed, blue, silver white, and budded tyrian, they lay calm breathing on the bedded grass; their arms embraced, and their pinions too; their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu, as if disjoined by soft handed slumber, and ready still, past kisses to outnumber, at tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: the winged boy i knew; but who wast thou, o happy, happy dove? his psyche true! { } o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebus sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, tho' temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain swung censer teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming. o brightest! though too late for antique vows too, too late for the fond, believing lyre when holy were the haunted forest boughs, holy the air, the water and the fire." keats. of this deity, poets have written until the god, become identified with the passion, which is addressed by many as immortal. "they sin who tell us love can die; with life all other passions fly, all others are but vanity; in heaven ambition cannot dwell nor avarice in the vaults of hell: earthly these passions of the earth they perish where they have their birth; but love is indestructible: its holy flame for ever burneth, from heaven it came, to heaven returneth. too oft on earth a troubled guest, at times deceived, at times opprest, it here is tried and purified, then hath in heaven its perfect rest: it soweth here with toil and care, but the harvest time of love is there." southey. cupid is usually represented as a winged infant, naked, armed with a bow and quiver full of arrows. on gems and all other pieces of antiquity, he is represented as amusing himself with childish diversions. sometimes, like a conqueror, he marches triumphantly with a helmet on his head, a spear on his shoulder, and a buckler on his arm, intimating that even mars himself owns the superiority of love. "to love, the soft and blooming child, i touch the harp in descant wild; to love, the babe of cyprian bowers, the boy who breathes and blushes flowers, to love, for heaven and earth adore him, and gods and mortals bow before him!" anacreon. among the ancients, he was worshipped with the same solemnity { } as his mother venus; and as his influence was extended over the heavens, the sea and the earth, and even the empire of the dead, his divinity was universally acknowledged, and vows, prayers and sacrifices, were daily offered to him. ------------"bright-winged child! who has another care when thou hast smiled? unfortunates on earth, we see at last all death-shadows, and glooms that overcast our spirits, fanned away by thy light pinions. o sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions! god of warm pulses, and dishevelled hair; dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser of light in light! delicious poisoner! thy venomed goblet will we quaff, until we fill--we fill!" keats. one of the most beautiful of his temples was built within a myrtle grove, the god being extended in the attitude of a sleeping child, under the title of l'amore dominatore. "they built a temple for the god, 'twas in a myrtle grove, where the sweet bee and butterfly, vied for each blossom's love. "i looked upon the altar,--there the pictured semblance lay, of him the temple's lord, it shone more beautiful than day. "it was a sleeping child, as fair as the first-born of spring: like indian gold waved the bright curls, in many a sunny ring. "i heard them hymn his name, his power, i heard them, and i smiled: how could they say the earth was ruled, by but a sleeping child? "i went then forth into the world, to see what might be there; and there i heard a voice of woe, of weeping, and despair. "i saw a youthful warrior stand in his first light of fame, his native city, filled the air with her deliverer's name: "i saw him hurry from the crowd, and fling his laurel crown, in weariness, in hopelessness, in utter misery down. "and what the sorrow, then i asked. can thus the warrior move, to scorn his meed of victory? they told me it was love! { } "i sought the forum, there was one, with dark and haughty brow, his voice was as the trumpet's tone, mine ear rings with it now. "they quailed before his flashing eye, they watched his lightest word: when suddenly that eye was dim, that voice no longer heard. "i looked upon his lonely hour, the weary solitude: when over dark, and bitter thoughts, the sick hearts' left to brood. "i marked the haughty spirit's strife, to rend its bonds in vain: again i heard the cause of ill, and heard loves name again. "i saw an urn, and round it hung, an april diadem of flowers, telling they mourned one, faded and fair like them. "i turned to tales of other days, they spoke of breath and bloom: and proud hearts that were bowed by love, into an early tomb. "i heard of every suffering, that on this earth can be: how can they call a sleeping child, a likeness, love, of thee? "they cannot paint thee, let them dream a dark and nameless thing: why give the likeness of the dove, where is the serpent's sting? l. e. l. we cannot better conclude our account of this important deity, than by the following epigram, written under one of his statues. "whoe'er thou art, thy master see, who was, or is,--or is to be." voltaire. [illustration] { } minerva. ------ minerva, the goddess of wisdom, war, and all the liberal arts, came forth, armed and grown up, from her father's brain, and was immediately admitted into the association of the gods, becoming one of the most faithful counsellors of her father. she was indeed the only one of all the divinities whose authority, and consequence, were equal to those of jupiter. "from jove's awful head sprang forth to light, in golden panoply superbly dight; and while the glittering spear thy hands essayed, olympus trembled at the martial maid. affrighted earth sounds from her deepest caves, and swell of ocean tides the sable waves; the turgid billows sink; in heaven's high plains his steeds the son of hyperion reins, till pallas lays her arms divine aside, while jove his daughter views with conscious pride." horace. the strife of this goddess with neptune is worthy attention: each of them claimed the right of giving a name to the capital of cecropia, and the assembly of the gods decided the dispute by promising preference to whichever could produce the most useful and necessary present to the inhabitants of the earth. neptune, upon hearing this, struck the ground with his trident, and immediately a horse issued therefrom. minerva produced the olive, and obtained the victory by the unanimous voice of the gods, who considered the olive, as the emblem of peace, to be far preferable to the horse, the symbol of war and bloodshed. the victorious deity called the capital athenoe, and became the tutelar divinity of the place. --------"the sandals of celestial mould, fledged with ambrosial plumes and rich with gold surround her feet: with these sublime she sails th' aerial space, and mounts the winged gales; o'er earth and ocean wide, prepared to soar, her dreaded arm a beaming javelin bore, ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns, proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns." homer. arachne, a woman of colophon, having acquired great perfection in working with her needle, became impressed with a belief that her powers were superior to those of minerva, goddess of the art. { } this wounded minerva's jealous pride, which was increased by arachnes challenging her to a trial of skill. "from famed pactolus' golden stream, drawn by her art the curious naiads came nor would the work, when finished, please so much as, while she wrought, to view each graceful touch: whether the shapeless wool in balls she wound, or with quick motion turned the spindle round, or with her pencil drew the neat design, pallas, her mistress, shone in every line. this the proud maid, with scornful air denies, and e'en the goddess at her work defies, disowns her heavenly mistress every hour, nor asks her aid, nor deprecates her power." ovid. beautiful as the production of arachne was, which recorded the intrigues of jove, yet it could not compete with that of minerva, who by her divine skill, surpassed all her rival's efforts. "pallas in figures wrought the heavenly powers, and mars's skill among the athenean bowers, each god, by proper features was exprest; jove with majestic mien, excelled the rest, his nine forked mace the dewy sea-god shook, and, looking sternly, smote the ragged rock; when, from the stone, leaped forth the sprightly steed and neptune claims the city for the deed. herself she blazons with a glittering spear, and crested helm that veiled her braided hair, with shield, and scaly breast-plate, implements of war. struck with her pointed lance, the teeming earth seemed to produce a new surprising birth, when from the glebe, the pledge of conquest sprung, a tree, pale green with fairest olives hung." ovid. although her work was perfect and masterly, the goddess was so vexed at the subjects arachne had chosen, that she struck her two or three times on the forehead. "the bright goddess, passionately moved, with envy saw, yet inwardly approved, the scene of heavenly guilt, with haste she tore, nor longer the affront with patience bore; a boxen shuttle in her hand she took, and more than once, arachne's forehead struck." the high spirited mortal, indignant at the blows, and in despair at her defeat, hung herself, and was changed into a spider by minerva. --------"she sprinkled her with juice, which leaves of baleful aconite produce. touched with the poisonous drug, her flowing hair fell to the ground, and left her temples bare. { } her usual features vanished from their place, her body lessened--but the most, her face, her slender fingers, hanging on each side, with many joints the use of legs supplied, a spider's bag, the rest, from which she gives a thread, and still, by constant spinning lives." ovid. minerva when amusing herself by playing upon her favourite flute before juno and venus, was ridiculed by the goddesses for the distortion of her face while blowing the instrument; minerva convinced of the truth of their remarks, by looking at herself in a fountain near mount ida, threw the flute away, and denounced a melancholy death to him who should find it. marsyas was the unfortunate being, and in the history of apollo may be found the fate he experienced through the veracity of her decree. minerva was called athena pallas, either from her killing the giant pallas, or because the spear which she seems to brandish in her hands is called "_pallein_." according to the different characters in which she has appeared, has the goddess been represented. usually with a helmet on her head, and a large plume nodding in the air. in one hand she holds a spear, and in the other, a shield, with the dying head of medusa upon it. "with bright wreaths of serpent tresses crowned, severe in beauty, young medusa frowned; erewhile subdued, round wisdom's �gis rolled, hissed the dread snakes, and flamed in burnished gold flashed on her brandished arm the immortal shield, and terror lightened o'er the dazzled field." darwin. sometimes the gorgon's head was on her breast-plate, with living serpents writhing round it, as well as on her shield and helmet. it was in one of her temples that the following occurrence took place, from which she adopted this device. medusa was the only one of the gorgons who was subject to mortality, and was celebrated for her personal charms; particularly for the beauty of her hair. neptune became enamoured of her medusa once had charms, to gain her love a rival crowd of envious lovers strove. they who have seen her, own they ne'er did trace, more moving features, in a sweeter face: yet above all, her length of hair they own, in golden ringlets waved, and graceful shone. { } her, neptune saw: and with such beauties fired, resolved to compass what his soul desired. the bashful goddess turned her eyes away, nor durst such bold impurity survey." this violation of the sanctity of her temple provoked minerva, and she changed the beautiful locks of medusa, which had inspired the love of neptune, into ghastly and living serpents, as a punishment for the desecration of that sanctuary, where only worship and incense should have been offered. [illustration] "it lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, upon the cloudy mountain peak supine; below, the far lands are seen tremblingly: its horror and its beauty are divine. upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie, loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, the agonies of anguish and of death. "yet it is less the horror than the grace, which turns the gazer's spirit into stone: whereon the lineaments of that dead face are graven, till the characters be grown into itself, and thought no more can trace; 'tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, which humanize and harmonize the strain. "and from its head as from one body grow, as grass out of a watery rock, hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow, and their long tangles in each other lock: and with unending involutions show, their mailed radiance as it were to mock, the torture and the death within, and saw the solid air with many a ragged jaw, { } "'tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; for from the serpents gleam a brazen glare, kindled by that inextricable error, which makes a thrilling vapour of the air become a strange, and ever shifting mirror of all the beauty, and the terror there-- a woman's countenance, with serpent locks, gazing in death on heaven, from those evil rocks." shelley. some of the statues of minerva represented her helmet with a sphinx in the middle, supported on either side by griffins. in some medals, a chariot drawn by four horses, appears at the top of her helmet. but it was at the panathenæa, instituted in her behalf, that she received the greatest honour. on the evening of the first day, there was a race with torches, in which men on foot, and afterwards on horseback, contended. to celebrate these festivals, also, the maidens divided into troops, and armed with sticks and stones, attacked each other with fury. those who were overcome in this combat, were devoted to infamy, while they who conquered, and had received no wounds, were honoured with triumphant rejoicings. these fêtes, established in lybia, were transferred to athens, the city to which minerva had granted the olive tree, and which she had taken under her protection. she was adored at troy by the title of pallas, and her statue guarded the city under the name of palladium. some authors maintain that this was made with the bones of pelops--while apollodorus asserts, it was no more than a piece of clock-work which moved of itself. to its possession, was attached the safety of the city; and during the trojan war, ulysses and diomedes were commissioned to steal it away. description of minerva in the florence gallery. "the head is of the highest beauty. it has a close helmet from which the hair, delicately parted on the forehead, half escapes. the attitude gives entire effect to the perfect form of the neck, and to that full and beautiful moulding of the lower part of the face and mouth, which is in living beings the seat of the expression of a simplicity and integrity of nature. her face, upraised to heaven, is animated with a profound, sweet, and impassioned melancholy, with an earnest, and fervid and disinterested pleading against some vast and inevitable wrong. it is the joy and poetry of sorrow making { } grief beautiful, and giving it that nameless feeling, which, from the imperfection of language, we call pain, but which is not all pain, though a feeling which makes not only its possessor, but the spectator of it, prefer it to what is called pleasure, in which all is not pleasure. it is difficult to think that this head, though of the highest ideal beauty is the head of minerva, although the attributes and attitude of the lower part of the statue certainly suggest that idea. "the greeks rarely in their representations of the characters of their gods--unless we call the poetic enthusiasm of apollo a mortal passion--expressed the disturbance of human feeling; and here is deep and impassioned grief animating a divine countenance. it is indeed divine. the drapery of the statue, the gentle beauty of the feet, and the grace of the attitude, are what may be seen in many other statues belonging to that astonishing era which produced it: such a countenance is seen in few." shelley. we have already seen that minerva, not satisfied with being goddess of wisdom, claimed also pre-eminence in beauty, although paris by his judgment, gave the palm of loveliness to venus. [illustration] * * * * * { } mars. ------ mars, the god of war, was the son of juno, who jealous of the birth of minerva, consulted flora, and on the plains near olenus, was shown by her a flower, through the very touch of which she might become a mother. the goddess tried, and from her touch sprang mars. his education was entrusted by juno to the god priapus, who instructed him in dancing, and in every manly exercise. his trial before the celebrated court of areopagus, for the murder of hallirhotius, who insulted a daughter of mars because she slighted his addresses, forms an important epoch in his history. the fiery blood of mars, which would submit to no insult, was immediately in arms at so tender a point, and he slew the insulter. neptune, father of the slain, cited mars to appear before the tribunal of justice, to answer for the murder of his son. the cause was tried at athens, in a place which has been called from thence areopagus, and mars was acquitted. "mars! god of armies! mid the ranks of war, known by thy golden helm, and rushing car, before whose lance, with sound terrific, fall the massy fortress and embattled wall. "father of victory! whose mighty powers, and brazen spears, protect olympus' towers; by whom the brave to high renown are led, whom justice honours, and whom tyrants dread. hail! friend to man! whose cares to youth, impart the arm unwearied, and the undaunted heart!" horace. during the trojan war, mars interested himself on the side of the trojans; but while he defended these favourites of venus with great activity, he was wounded by diomedes, and hastily retreated to heaven, complaining to jupiter that minerva had directed the unerring weapon of his antagonist. "wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes, there, sullen, sate beneath the sire of gods, shewed the celestial blood, and with a groan, thus poured his plaints before the immortal throne. can jove, supine, flagitious acts survey and brook the furies of the daring day? for mortal men, celestial powers engage, and gods on gods exert eternal rage. from thee, o father! all these ills we bear, and thy fell daughter with the shield and spear. { } thou gavest that fury to the realms of light, pernicious, wild, regardless of the right; all heaven besides, reveres thy sovereign sway, thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: 'tis hers to offend, and e'en offending, share thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguished care: so boundless she, and thou so partial grown, well may we deem, the wondrous birth thine own; now frantic diomed, at her command, against the immortals lifts his raging hand; the heavenly venus first his fury found: me next encountering, me he dared to wound: vanquished i fled; e'en i, the god of fight, from mortal madness, scarce was saved by flight, else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain, heaped round, and heaving under loads of slain, or pierced with grecian darts, for ages lie condemned to pain, though fated not to die.'" homer. the thunderer treated with disregard the complaint of mars against his favourite daughter, and thus upbraided him: "'to me, perfidious! this lamenting strain, of lawless force, shall lawless mars complain? of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! inhuman discord is thy dire delight, the waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight. no bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells, and all thy mother in thy soul rebels. in vain our threats, in vain our power, we use, she gives the example, and her son pursues. yet long the inflicted pangs thou shalt not mourn, sprung since thou art from jove, and heavenly born: else singed with lightning, hadst thou hence been thrown, where, chained on burning rocks, the titans groan.'" homer. under the direction of jupiter, the god of war soon recovered. "thus he, who shakes olympus with his nod, then gave to poeon's care the bleeding god. with gentle hand, the balm he poured around, and healed th' immortal flesh, and closed the wound. cleansed from the dust and gore, fair hebe dressed his mighty limbs in an immortal vest, glorious he sat, in majesty restored, fast by the throne of heaven's superior lord." homer. the worship of mars, was not very universal among the ancients, nor were his temples very numerous in greece, but among the warlike romans he received great homage, as they were proud of sacrificing to a deity, whom they considered the patron of their city, and the father of the first of their monarchs; a faith to which { } they loved to give credit. among this people, it was customary for the consul, before he went on an expedition, to visit the temple of mars, where he offered his prayers, and shook in a solemn manner, the spear which was in the hand of the statue of the god, exclaiming "_mars vigila!_ god of war, watch over the safety of this city." the influence of cupid, as god of love, was felt even by mars, who was compelled to acknowledge his power, and the sharpness of his arrows. "as in the lemnian caves of fire, the mate of her who nursed desire, moulded the glowing steel, to form arrows for cupid, melting, warm; once to this lemnian cave of flame, the crested lord of battles came; 'twas from the ranks of war he rushed, his spear with many a life-drop blushed; he saw the mystic darts, and smiled derision on the archer child. 'and dost thou smile?' said little love; 'take this dart, and thou mayest prove that tho' they pass the breeze's flight, my bolts are not so feathery light.' he took the shaft--and oh! thy look, sweet venus! when the shaft he took, he sighed, and felt the urchin's art, he sighed in agony of heart; 'it is not light, i die with pain! take, take thine arrow back again.' 'no,' said the child 'it must not be, that little dart was made for thee.'" moore. the result of his amour with venus has been related in another part of this work. he is usually represented in a chariot of steel, conducted by bellona, goddess of war: on his cuirass are painted several monsters; the figures of fury and anger ornament his helmet, while renown precedes him. his priests, named salii, carried small bucklers, supposed to be sacred, and to have fallen from the skies. to him was consecrated the cock, because it was vigilant and courageous, but they preferred offering the wolf; they sacrificed however, to him, all kinds of animals, and even human victims. the statues and portraits of mars, as the god of war, and consequently the winner of victory, have been very numerous. { } his most celebrated temple at rome, was built by augustus, after the battle of phillippi, and was dedicated to "mars the avenger." [illustration] "_rivers._ and this is he, the fabled god of war. _evadne._ aye, mars the conqueror, see how he stands; the lordly port, the eye of fierce command, the threatening brow, and look that seems to dare a thousand foes to battle. --it was a beautiful faith that gave these gods a name and office! is he not glorious? _rivers._ to my poor thought, there's that within his glance so fierce, i scarce dare meet it. _evadne._ it is your studious nature, yet methinks to gaze upon that proud and haughty form, to think upon the glorious deeds of war, the pomp and pride and circumstance of battle, the neighing of the steed, the clash of arms, the banner waving in the glowing breeze, the trumpet sound, the shout. oh! there is nought so beautiful as this. _rivers._ aye, but to see the living and the dead, lying in mortal agony, side by side, their bright hair dabbled in unrighteous blood, their vestures tinctured with its gory red, the quivering limb, the eye that's glazed in death, the groan-- _evadne._ 'tis lost boy, in the drum and trumpet's voice. 'tis lost in shouts of glorious victory, 'tis lost in high, triumphal tones of gladness. { } _rivers._ but then to think upon the hearts that grieve. for those who peril thus their lives in war, the misery that sweeps along the brain, the widows' moan, the orphans' tears of woe, the love that watcheth at the midnight hour, and hopeth on, but hopeth on in vain. _evadne._ and that is lost too in their country's shouts the voice of gratitude for those that fell, drowns every thought in those who live to mourn; the hand of charity for those who are left. fills every heart and dries up every fear; the record of a nation's loud applause, writes on their tombs in characters of brass. and graves within our very souls, the words, 'here lies his country's saviour.' _rivers._ but these can never pay the wrung in heart: pride is a poor exchange for those adored: and even a nation with its giant strength, cannot supply the vacant place of love! _evadne._ shame on such craven thoughts, the image of the god frowns on your words-- all glorious mars! be thou my god and guide, be thou the image to fill up my heart, be thou the spirit leading me to glory, and be my latest hour still cheered by thee, while round me dwells the shout of victory!" fletcher. mars was the presider over gladiators, and was the god of all exercises, which have in them a manly or spirited character. [illustration] { } neptune, ------ --------"the god whose potent hand shakes the tumultuous sea, and solid land: the ocean lord, o'er helicon who reigns, o'er spacious �gæ's wide extended plains; to whom the gods, with equal skill concede, to guide the bark and tame the fiery steed," horace. was the son of saturn, and brother to jupiter, pluto, and juno; being restored to life by the draught administered to saturn, the portion of the kingdom allotted to him was that of the sea. this, however, did not seem equivalent to the empire of heaven and earth, which jupiter had claimed; he therefore conspired with the other gods to dethrone his brother. the conspiracy was discovered, and jupiter condemned neptune to assist in building the walls of troy, and to be subservient to his sceptre for a year. when the work was completed, laomedon refused to reward the labours of the god, and in retribution, his territories were soon afterwards laid waste by the god of the sea, and his subjects visited with a pestilence sent by apollo. besides the dispute this deity had with minerva, related in her history, he claimed the isthmus of corinth from apollo; and briareus, the cyclops, who was mutually chosen umpire, gave the isthmus to neptune, and the promontory to apollo. neptune, as god of the sea, was entitled to more power than any of the other deities, except jupiter. not only the oceans, rivers, and fountains, were subjected to him, but he could also cause earthquakes at pleasure, and raise islands from the sea by a blow of his trident. ----------------"king of the stormy sea! brother of jove, and co-inheritor of elements eternally before thee, the waves awful bow. fast, stubborn rock; at thy feared trident, shrinking, doth unlock its deep foundations, hissing into foam. all mountain-rivers, lost, in the wide home of thy capacious bosom, ever flow. thou frownest, and old �olus, thy foe, skulks to his cavern, mid the gruff complaint of all his rebel tempests. dark clouds faint when, from thy diadem, a silver gleam slants over blue dominion. thy bright team gulfs in the morning light, and scuds along to bring thee nearer to that golden song { } apollo singeth, while his chariot waits at the door of heaven. thou art not for scenes like this; an empire stern hast thou; and it hath furrowed that large front: yet now, as newly come of heaven, dost thou sit, to blend and inter-knit subdued majesty with this glad time. o shell born king sublime! we lay our hearts before thee evermore-- we sing and we adore!" keats. he obtained amphitrite, daughter of ocean, in marriage, through the skill of a dolphin, although she had made to herself a vow of perpetual celibacy; and had by him, triton, one of the sea deities. to the story of neptune, may be attached the beautiful fable of arion, the illustrious rival of amphion and orpheus. [illustration] this famous lyric poet and musician, having gone into italy, with periander, tyrant of corinth, he obtained immense treasures through his profession. on his return to his native country with his riches, the sailors of the vessel in which he had embarked, resolved to murder him, that they might obtain possession of his wealth; when the poet discovered their intention, he endeavoured to outwit them. { } "allow me," said arion, with all the earnestness of an enthusiast. "ere i leave this world, oh! allow me to touch once more, and for the last time, the strings of the lyre which has so often cheered me: let the last moments of my life, be soothed by its gentle influence." the boon was granted, and the divine strains of the master, issued in solemn beauty over the deep. at the sound, the traitors were struck silent, and hesitated in their course, but they had gone too far: it was too late to recede, and the poet was thrown into the deep. when lo! the dolphins, attracted by the sweet tones which they had heard, gathered round him; and arion, mounted on the back of one, and accompanied by the remainder arrived safely at the end of his voyage. it is added, as an instance of the ingratitude of mortals, that the dolphin, having proceeded too far upon the sand, was unable to get back to the water, and the ungrateful arion allowed his liberator to perish. [illustration] the worship of neptune was established in almost every part of the earth, and the libyans in particular, venerated him above all other gods. ------"great neptune! i would be advanced to the freedom of the main, and stand before your vast creation's plain, and roam your watery kingdom thro' and thro' { } and see your branching woods and palace blue, spar-built and domed with crystal: aye and view the bedded wonders of the lonely deep; and see on coral banks, the sea-maids sleep, children of ancient nereus, and behold their streaming dance about their father old, beneath the blue egean; where he sate, wedded to prophecy, and full of fate! or rather, as arion harped, indeed, would i go floating on my billow-steed, over the billows, and triumphing there, call the white syren from her cave to share my joy, and kiss her willing forehead fair." keats. to him was consecrated the horse, and in his honour were celebrated the isthmian games. his throne was a chariot drawn by four fiery steeds; his stature is grand, and his appearance imposing; he wears the look of an old man, his long beard and hair, wet with the vapour of the water. in his hand he holds the trident, which bids the waves of ocean to rise, and causes the thunder of its tempests. with this trident also, he shakes the world, and bids the earth to tremble. during the _consualia_ of the romans, horses were led through the streets, finely equipped, and crowned with garlands, as the god in whose honour the festivals were instituted, had produced the horse, an animal so beneficial for the use of mankind. as monarch of the sea, he is supposed to have had possession of the deep, and all the treasures which the stormy winds sent to his domain. "what hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells? thou hollow-sounding, and mysterious main! pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells, bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain; keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea. we ask not such from thee! "yet more, the depths have more! what wealth untold, far down, and shining thro' their stillness lies; thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, won from ten thousand royal argosies; sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main; earth claims not these again! "yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have rolled, above the cities of a world gone by! sand hath filled up the palaces of old, sea-weed o'er-grown the halls of revelry. dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play! man yields them to decay { } yet more! the billows and the depths have more! high hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast! they hear not now the booming waters roar, the battle thunders will not break their rest; keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave, give back the true and brave! "give back the lost and lovely! those for whom the place was kept at board and hearth so long; the prayer went up thro' midnight's breathless gloom, and the vain yearning woke midst festal song! hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, but all is not thine own! "to thee the love of woman hath gone down, dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, o'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, yet must thou hear a voice--restore the dead! earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee! restore the dead thou sea!" hemans. * * * * * pluto. ------ the name of pluto, as god of the kingdom of hell, and whatever is under the earth, where "------------cerberus, the cruel worm of death, keeps watchful guard, and with his iron throat, affrights the spirits in their pale sojourn," thurlow. is as well known to the readers of mythology as that of his brother jupiter. the place of his residence being gloomy, and consequently unbearable to those goddesses whose hand he sought in marriage, and who looked for a gayer life than he could offer them, they all refused to become the sharer of his possessions. pluto, however, was by no means willing to sit quietly down in single blessedness, thinking, perhaps, that the very reason which they assigned for their refusal, was an additional one in his favour for wishing a soother of his lot. it was in his visit to the island of sicily, that the god saw and became enamoured of proserpine, as she gathered flowers in the plains of enna. { } ------"he comes to us from the depths of tartarus. for what of evil doth he roam from his red and gloomy home. in the centre of the world where the sinful dead are hurled? mark him as he moves along, drawn by horses black and strong. such as may belong to night, ere she takes her morning flight, now the chariot stops: the god on our grassy world hath trod, like a titan steppeth he, yet full of his divinity. on his mighty shoulders lie raven locks, and in his eye a cruel beauty, such as none of us may wisely look upon." barry cornwall. in vain she called upon her attendants for help, the god bore her off to his dominions, and she became his bride. [illustration] "so in sicilia's ever blooming shade, the playful proserpine from ceres strayed. led with unwary step her virgin trains o'er etna's steeps, and enna's golden plains; plucked with fair hand the silver blossomed bower, and purpled mead,--herself a fairer flower; { } sudden, unseen amid the twilight glade, rushed gloomy dis, and seized the trembling maid. her startling damsels sprung from mossy seats, dropped from their gauzy laps the gathered sweets, clung round the struggling nymph, with piercing cries pursued the chariot, and invoked the skies;-- pleased as he grasps her in his iron arms, frights with soft sighs, with tender words alarms; the wheels descending, rolled in smoky rings, infernal cupids flapped their demon wings; earth with deep yawn received the fair amazed, and far in night, celestial beauty blazed." darwin. at the entrance of the place of torments was an enormous vestibule, tenanted by black anxieties, regrets, groans, remorse, pale malady, decay, fright, hunger, poverty, death, sleep, fierce joy, rage, and the eumenides, or furies, who were seated on a couch of iron, and crowned with blood-stained serpents. a deep and dark cavern led towards tartarus, which was surrounded by the river acheron; charon conducted over this water the souls of those sent to him by death, while any to whom the rites of sepulchre had not been granted, were for a hundred years allowed to solicit their passage in vain. if any living person presented himself to cross the lake, he could not be admitted before he showed charon a golden bough; and charon was once imprisoned for a year, because he had ferried hercules over without this passport. cerberus, a dog with three heads, watched at the entrance to tartarus. "a horrid dog and grim, couched on the floor, guards, with malicious art, the sounding door; on each, who in the entrance first appears, he fawning wags his tail, and cocks his ears; if any strive to measure back the way, their steps he watches, and devours his prey." hesiod. surrounded by an outer wall of iron, this terrible place was enclosed within a wall of adamant. pluto is generally represented as holding a trident with three prongs, and has a key in his hand, to intimate that whoever enters can never return. he is considered as a hard-hearted and inexorable deity, with a grim and dismal countenance, for which reason, temples were not raised to his honour, as to the remainder of the gods; though the story of orpheus shews that he could be occasionally less severe. { } "when ill-fated orpheus tuned to woe his potent lyre, and sought the realms below; charmed into life unreal forms respired, and list'ning shades the dulcet note admired. love led the sage through death's tremendous porch, cheered with his smile, and lighted with his torch; hell's triple dog his playful jaws expands, fawns round the god, and licks his baby hands; in wondering groups the shadowy nations throng, and sigh or simper, as he steps along; sad swains, and nymphs forlorn, on lethe's brink, hug their past sorrows, and refuse to drink; night's dazzled empress feels the golden flame play round her breast, and melt her frozen frame; charms with soft words, and sooths with amorous wiles, her iron-hearted lord, and pluto smiles. his trembling bride the bard triumphant led from the pale mansions of the astonished dead; gave the fair phantom to admiring light, ah! soon again to tread irrevocable night!" darwin. black victims, and particularly the bull, were the only sacrifices which were offered to him, and their blood was not sprinkled on the altars, but permitted to run down into the earth to penetrate the realms of the god. the syracusans paid yearly homage to him near the fountain of cyane, into which one of the attendant maidens of proserpine had been metamorphosed, and where he had, according to the received traditions, disappeared with the goddess. --------"on the ground, she sinks without a single sound, and all her garments float around; again, again she rises light, her head is like a fountain bright, and her glossy ringlets fall with a murmur musical, o'er her shoulders, like a river that rushes and escapes for ever. is the fair cyane gone? is this fountain left alone for a sad remembrance, where we may in after times repair, with heavy heart and weeping eye, to sing songs to her memory?" barry cornwall. from the functions, and the place he inhabited, he received different names, and became the god of the infernal regions, of death, and of funerals. that he might govern with order and regularity, the spirits who { } were inhabitants of his vast dominions, he committed part of his power to three judges of the infernal regions, of whom minos and rhadamanthus were the most important. he sate in the middle, holding a sceptre in his hand. the dead pleaded their different causes before him, and the impartial judge shakes the fatal urn which is filled with the destinies of mankind. rhadamanthus was employed in compelling the dead to confess their crimes, and in punishing them for their offences. [illustration] "awful rhadamanthus rules the state. he hears and judges each committed crime, inquires into the manner, place, and time: the conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, loth to confess, unable to conceal, from the first moment of his vital breath, to his last year of unrepenting death." amongst the most notorious criminals plunged in tartarus, were the titans; sisyphus, a celebrated robber, condemned to roll an enormous stone to the summit of a high mountain, from which it fell again without ceasing, that he might be eternally employed in this punishment; ixion who had dared to offer impure vows to juno, and was affixed to a wheel which went constantly round, rendering his punishment also eternal; with tantalus, condemned to a burning thirst, and surrounded by the grateful liquid which always vanished before his touch. { } --------"tantalus condemned to hear the precious stream still purling in his ear; lip-deep in what he longs for, and yet curst with prohibition and perpetual thirst." cowper. the danaides, daughters of danaus, king of argos, were also there, who, in obedience to the cruel advice of their parent, had caused their husbands to perish; with tityus, who having had the audacity to attempt the honour of latona, was doomed to feel a vulture constantly gnawing his entrails. [illustration] ulysses sought the realm of pluto, among his many adventures. "when lo! appeared along the dusky coasts, thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts: fair, pensive youths, and young enamoured maids; and withered elders, pale and wrinkled shades; ghastly with wounds the forms of warriors slain, stalked with majestic port, a martial train; these and a thousand more, swarmed o'er the ground, and all the dire assembly shrieked around. astonished at the sight, aghast i stood, and a cold fear ran shivering through my blood." while here he saw the ghosts of all those famed in story, who had descended to the infernal regions for punishment. "high on a throne, tremendous to behold, stern minos waves a mace of burnished gold; around, ten thousand, thousand spectres stand, thro' the wide dome of dis, a trembling band. still as they plead, the fatal lot he rolls, absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. there huge orion, of portentous size, swift thro' the gloom, a giant hunter flies; a ponderous mace of brass with direful sway aloft he whirls to crush the savage prey! stern beasts in trains that by his truncheon fell, now grisly forms, shoot o'er the lawns of hell. there tityus, large and long, in fetters bound, o'erspreads nine acres of infernal ground; { } two ravenous vultures, furious for their food, scream o'er the fiend, and riot in his blood, incessant gore the liver in his breast, th' immortal liver grows, and gives the immortal feast. there tantalus along the stygian bounds pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds); ev'n in the circling floods refreshment craves, and pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves; when to the water he his lip applies, back from his lip the treacherous water flies, above, beneath, around his hapless head, trees of all kinds delicious fruitage spread; there figs sky-dy'd, a purple hue disclose, green looks the olive, the pomegranate grows, there dangling pears exalting scents unfold, and yellow apples ripen into gold: the fruit he strives to seize, but blasts arise, toss it on high, and whirl it to the skies. i turned my eye, and, as i turned, surveyed a mournful vision! the sisyphian shade; with many a weary step, and many a groan, up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; the huge round stone, resulting with a bound, thunders impetuous down and smokes along the ground, again the restless orb his toil renews, dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews." [illustration] * * * * * { } mercury. ------ though according to cicero, there were no less than five gods of this name; yet to the son of jupiter and maia, the actions of all the others have been probably attributed, as he is the most famous and the best known. mercury was the messenger of the gods and the patron of travellers and shepherds; he conducted the souls of the dead into the infernal regions, and not only presided over orators and merchants, but was also the god of thieves, pickpockets, and all dishonest persons. --------"a babe, all babes excelling, a schemer subtle beyond all belief, a shepherd of thin dreams, a cow stealing, a night watching and door waylaying thief." shelley. the day following his birth he offered an early proof of his dishonest propensities, by stealing away the oxen of admetus which apollo tended. "the babe was born at the first peep of day, he began playing on the lyre at noon, and the same evening did he steal away apollo's herds." shelley. he gave another proof of this propensity, by throwing himself upon the timid cupid, and wrestling from him his quivers; and increased his notoriety by robbing venus of her girdle, mars of his sword, jupiter of his sceptre, and vulcan of his mechanical instruments. [illustration] "hermes with gods and men, even from that day mingled and wrought the latter much annoy, and little profit, going far astray, through the dun night." shelley. { } as the messenger of jupiter, he was entrusted with all his secrets and permitted to make himself invisible whenever he pleased, or to assume any shape he chose. the invention of the lyre and seven strings is ascribed to him, which he gave to apollo, and received in exchange the celebrated caduceus, with which the god of poetry used to drive the flocks of king admetus. this celebrated instrument was a rod entwined at one end by two serpents. ------------------------"come take the lyre--be mine the glory of giving it-- strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud and wake the joyous pleasure out of many a fit of tranced sound--and with fleet fingers make thy liquid voiced comrade talk with thee; it can talk measured music eloquently. then bear it boldly to the revel loud, love wakening dance, or feast of solemn state, a joy by night or day, for those endowed with art and wisdom, who interrogate! it teaches, bubbling in delightful mood all things which make the spirit most elate, soothing the mind with sweet familiar play, chasing the heavy shadows of dismay." shelley. "o hermes, thou who couldst of yore amphion's bosom warm, and breathe into his strains the power, the rugged rocks to charm; breathe, breathe into my lyre's soft string, and bid its music sweet notes fling, for what o lyre, can thee withstand? touched by an orpheus' magic hand, thou calm'st the tiger's wrath: the listening woods thou draw'st along, the rivers stay to hear thy song, and listen still as death. tityos with pleasure heard thy strain, and ixion smiled amid his pain." horace. numerous were the modes of sacrifice to mercury, and the places in which they were offered; among others, the roman merchants yearly celebrated a festival in his honour. after the votaries had sprinkled themselves with water, they offered prayers to the divinity, and entreated him to be favourable to them, and to forgive any artful measures, perjuries, or falsehoods they had used in the pursuit of gain; and this may be considered to have been particularly necessary when it is remembered that the merchants, who had promised him all the incense in the world to obtain his { } protection, proved that they had profited by his principles, by offering him only a hundredth part, when they had secured his good offices. jupiter soon missed the services of his intelligent messenger, and recalled him to olympus. here, mercury rendering some kindness to venus, the goddess fell in love with him, and bore to him hermaphrodite, a child which united the talents of his father with the graces of his mother; at the age of fifteen, he began to travel, and bathing one day in a fountain in cana, excited the passion of salmaeis, the nymph who presided over it. "from both the illustrious authors of his race the child was named; nor was it hard to trace both the bright parents through the infant's face. when fifteen years, in ida's cool retreat, the boy had told, he left his native seat, and sought fresh fountains in a foreign soil: the pleasure lessened the attending toil. with eager steps the lycian fields he crossed, and fields that border on the lycian coast; a river here he viewed so lovely bright, it showed the bottom in a fairer light, nor kept a sand concealed from human sight. the fruitful banks with cheerful verdure crowned, and kept the spring eternal on the ground. a nymph presides, nor practised in the chase, nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race; of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main, the only stranger to diana's train; her sisters often, as 'tis said, would cry 'fye, salmaeis, what always idle! fye; or take the quiver, or the arrows seize and mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.' nor quivers she, nor arrows e'er would seize, nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease; but oft would bathe her in the crystal tide, oft with a comb her dewy locks divide; now in the limped streams she views her face, and dressed her image in the floating glass: on beds of leaves she now reposed her limbs, now gathered flowers that grew about her streams, and there by chance was gathering as she stood to view the boy--" ovid. hermaphroditus continued deaf to all entreaties and offers; and salmaeis, throwing her arms around him, entreated the gods to render her inseparable from him whom she adored. the gods heard her prayer, and formed of the two, a being of perfect beauty, preserving the characteristics of both sexes. { } offerings were made to him of milk and honey, because he was the god of eloquence, whose powers were sweet and persuasive. sometimes his statues represent him without arms, because the power of speech can prevail over everything. the greeks and romans celebrated his festivals, principally in the month of may. they frequently placed on his back the statue of minerva, and offered to him the tongues of the victims whom they immolated to the goddess. "who beareth the world on his shoulders so broad; hear me, thou power, who, of yore, by thy words couldst soften the hearts of the barbarous hordes, and by the palæstia taught him of the wild to be gentle, and graceful, and meek as a child. thou messenger fleet of the cloud-throned sire, 'twas thou who inventedst the golden-stringed lyre; i hail thee the patron of craft and of guile, to laugh while you grieve, to deceive while you smile, when you chafed into wrath bright apollo of old, his dun-coloured steers having stol'n from the fold, he laughed; for, while talking all fiercely he found that his quiver, alack! from his back was unbound. 'twas thou, who old priam didst guide on his way, when he passed unperceived thro' the hostile array, of the proud sons of atreus, who sought to destroy the towers of high ilion, the city of troy. o hermes, 'tis thou who conductest the blest to the seats where their souls shall for ever exist, who governest their shades by the power of thy spell, the favourite of heaven, the favourite of hell." horace. [illustration] * * * * * { } nereids ------ these divinities were children of nereus and dorus. as the dryads and hamadryads presided over forests--as the naiads watched over fountains and the sources of rivers--as the oreads were the peculiar guardians of the hills, so the nereids guided and commanded the waves of the ocean, and were implored as its deities. they had altars chiefly on the coast of the sea, where the piety of mankind made offerings of milk, oil, and honey, and often of the flesh of goats. when they were on the sea shore, they generally resided in grottos and caves, adorned with shells. [illustration] there were fifty of them, all children of nereus, who is represented as an old man with a long flowing beard, and hair of an azure colour. the chief place of his residence was in the egean sea, where he was attended by his daughters, who often danced in chorus round him. he had the gift of prophecy, and informed those who consulted him, of the fate which awaited them, though such was the god's aversion to his task, that he often evaded the importunities of the inquirers, by assuming different shapes, and totally escaping from their grasp. * * * * * { } divinities of the second class. ------ the gods of the first order, were endowed by the writers of antiquity, with natures partly real, and partly imaginary. by their power, the government of the universe was carried on; but mortals in attributing to these gods their own passions and weaknesses, began to blend with them divinities of a secondary class, to preside over those less important affairs, which might be supposed unworthy the notice of the superior intelligences. for the most part, therefore, these immortals have no origin in history; but, as allusions are constantly made to them in the eloquent language of the orator, or in the beautiful metaphor of the poet, it is necessary to introduce those who are considered to be the most celebrated. and for the future, the poetry offered will principally be that which relates rather to the attributes they were supposed to possess, than to the gods themselves. thus, with such deities as �olus and mors, we shall introduce poems addressed to the wind and death, over which they presided, as suited to the modern character of our mythology, and more generally appreciated by the readers of the nineteenth century. divinities of the earth. pan. pan was the god of shepherds, and of all inhabitants of the country; he was the son of mercury by driope, and is usually described as possessing two small horns on his head, his complexion ruddy, his nose flat, and his legs, thighs, tail and feet hairy, like those of a goat. when he was brought into the world, the nurse, terrified at sight of him, ran away in horror, and his father wrapping him up in the skins of beasts, carried him to heaven, where jupiter and the other gods, entertained themselves with the oddity of his appearance; bacchus was delighted with him, and gave him the name of pan. --------------"sprung the rude god to light; of dreadful form, and horrible to sight; goat-footed, horned, yet full of sport and joy, the nurse, astonished, fled the wondrous boy: { } his shaggy limbs, the trembling matron feared, his face distorted, and his rugged beard: but hermes from her hands received the child, and on the infant god auspicious smiled. in the thick fur wrapped of a mountain hare, his arms the boy to steep olympus bear; proudly he shows him to imperial jove, high seated 'mid the immortal powers above. with friendly joy and love, the race divine, but chiefly bacchus, god of mirth and wine, received the dauntless god, whom pan they call, pan, for his song delights the breast of all." horace. this god of the shepherds chiefly resided in arcadia, where the woods and the mountains were his habitation. ------------"his mighty palace roof doth hang from jagged trunks, and overshadoweth eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death, of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness. who loves to see the hamadryads dress their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels darken, and through whole solemn hours, dost sit and harken the dreary melody of bedded reeds." keats. the flute was invented by pan, and formed of seven reeds, which he called syrinx, in honour of a beautiful nymph of the same name, who, refusing his addresses, was changed into a reed. ----------------"a nymph of late there was, whose heavenly form her fellows did surpass, the pride and joy of fair arcadia's plains, beloved by deities, adored by swains. like phoebe clad, e'en phoebe's self she seems, so tall, so straight, such well proportioned limbs, the nicest eye did no distinction know but that the goddess bore a golden bow, descending from lycæus, pan admires the matchless nymph, and burns with new desires. a crown of pine upon his head he wore, and then began her pity to implore. but ere he thus began, she took her flight, so swift she was already out of sight, nor staid to hear the courtship of the god: but bent her course to ladon's gentle flood: there by the river stopped, and tired before relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore, now while the rural god with speedy pace, just thought to strain her in his strict embrace, he filled his arms with reeds, new rising in the place: and while he sighs his ill success to find, the tender canes were shaken by the wind, and breathed a mournful air unheard before, that much surprizing pan, yet pleased him more, { } admiring this new music, 'thou' he said, 'who cans't not be the partner of my bed, at least shall be the consort of my mind, and often, often to my lips be joined.' he formed the reeds, proportioned as they are, unequal in their length and waxed with care, they still retain the name of his ungrateful fair." ovid. he was continually employed in deceiving the neighbouring nymphs, and often with success. though deformed in shape and features, he had the good fortune to captivate diana in the appearance of a beautiful white goat. [illustration] his adventure with omphale is amusing; while the latter was travelling with hercules, a sacrifice which was to take place on the following day, caused omphale and the hero to seek separate apartments. in the night, pan introduced himself, and went to the bed { } of the queen; but there seeing the lion's skin of hercules, he fancied he had made a mistake, and repaired to that of the hero; where the female dress which the latter had adopted, deceived the rural god, and he laid himself down by his side. the hero awoke, and kicked the intruder into the middle of the room. the noise aroused omphale, and pan was discovered lying on the ground, greatly discomfited and ashamed. [illustration] the worship of pan was well established, particularly in arcadia, and his statue was usually placed under the shadow of a pine-tree. upon his altars were laid both honey and milk, fit offerings for a rural divinity. "with cloven feet and horned front who roves with choirs of nymphs, amid the echoing groves; he joins in active dance the virgin throng, to pan, the pastoral god, they raise the song. "to pan, with tangled locks, whose footsteps tread each snow-crowned hill, and mountain's lofty head; or wander careless through the lowly brake, or by the borders of the lucid lake." horace. he loved the nymph echo, but in this instance was unsuccessful in his passion, for the latter adored the beautiful narcissus, and { } wandered over hill and dale in search of the youth on whom she had lavished all her affections, but who unfortunately returned them not. to whom is not the tale of the self-slain narcissus known, though perhaps the exquisite story of echo's love for him may be less familiar to the mind. after echo had been dismissed by jupiter, for her loquacity in proclaiming his numerous amours, she fell in love with the beautiful narcissus. "and at the sight of the fair youth she glows, and follows silently where'er he goes." unable, however, to address him first, she waited the sound of his beloved voice. "now several ways his young companions gone, and for some time narcissus left alone, 'where are you all?' at last she hears him call, and she straight answers him, '_where are you all_?' "'speak yet again,' he cries, 'is any nigh?' again the mournful echo answers, '_i_,' 'why come not you,' he said, 'appear in view,' she hastily returns, '_why come not you_?' "'then let us join,' at last narcissus said, '_then let us join_,' replied the ravished maid." in vain had the wondering youth up to this moment looked for the frolic companions, whom he imagined had hid themselves in play. but echo, charmed with his last exclamation, hastily appeared, and threw herself on the bosom of the astonished youth, who, far from submitting with pleasure to the intrusion, "with all his strength unlocks her fold, and breaks unkindly from her feeble hold; then proudly cries, 'life shall this breast forsake, ere you, loose nymph, on me your pleasure take;' '_on me your pleasure take_,' the nymph replies while from her the disdainful hunter flies." as the youth wandered on, anxious only to escape from the society of echo, he suddenly came upon a fountain, in which, as he reclined on the ground, he fancied he saw the figure of a beautiful nymph. "deep through the spring, his eye-balls dart their beams, like midnight stars that twinkle in the streams, his ivory neck the crystal mirror shows, his waving hair, above the surface flows, his own perfections all his passions moved, he loves himself, who for himself was loved." { } half maddened by the appearance of a beauty, of which hitherto he had been unconscious, he made every possible effort to grasp what appeared to be the guardian spirit of the water. "oft with his down-thrust arms he thought to fold, about that neck that still deludes his hold, he gets no kisses from those cozening lips, his arms grasp nothing, from himself he slips; he knows not what he views, and yet pursues his desperate love, and burns for what he views." nothing could win the self-enamoured boy from his devoted passion; but bending over the lucid spring, he fed his eyes with the delusive shade which seemed to gaze on him from the depths. at last "streaming tears from his full eye-lids fell, and drop by drop, raised circles in the well, the several rings larger and larger spread, and by degrees dispersed the fleeting shade." [illustration] narcissus fancied that the nymph upon whom he supposed he had been gazing, was deserting him, and unable to bear the misery which the thought occasioned, he wounded himself in his agony, deeming that life without her would be insupportable. echo, however resentful she had felt for the scorn with which he had treated her, hovered near his footsteps and witnessed this last infatuation with redoubled sorrow. { } "now hanging o'er the spring his drooping head, with a sad sigh these dying words he said, 'ah! boy beloved in vain,' thro' all the plain echo resounds, '_ah! boy beloved in vain!_' 'farewell,' he cries, and with that word he died, '_farewell,_' the miserable nymph replied. now pale and breathless on the grass he lies, for death had shut his miserable eyes." the gods, however, taking pity upon his melancholy fate, changed him into the flower narcissus. many morals have been attempted to be deduced from this beautiful fable, but in none of them have their authors been very successful, unless we may gather a warning of the fatal effects of self-love. "what first inspired a bard of old to sing narcissus pining o'er the mountain spring? in some delicious ramble, he had found a little space, with boughs all woven round, and in the midst of all a clearer pool than ere reflected in its pleasant cool the blue sky, here and there divinely peeping through tendril wreaths, fantastically creeping; and on the bank a lonely flower he spied, a meek and forlorn flower with nought of pride, drooping its beauty o'er the watery clearness to woo its own sweet image unto nearness; deaf to light zephyrus, it would not move, but still would seem to droop, to pine, to love; so while the poet stood in this sweet spot; some fainted dreamings o'er his fancy shot; nor was it long ere he had told the tale of young narcissus, and sad echo's vale." keats. poor pan, undeterred by the zealous passion of echo for narcissus, still continued to love her, and pleased himself by wandering in the woods and deserts, there calling upon her, for the pleasure of hearing her voice in reply. "in thy cavern-hall, echo! art thou sleeping? by the fountain's fall dreamy silence keeping? yet one soft note borne from the shepherd's horn, wakes thee, echo! into music leaping, strange sweet echo! into music leaping. "then the woods rejoice, then glad sounds are swelling, from each sister voice round thy rocky dwelling; and their sweetness fills all the hollow hills, { } with a thousand notes of _one_ life telling! softly mingled notes, of one life telling. "echo! in my heart thus deep thoughts are lying, silent and apart, buried, yet undying, till some gentle tone wakening haply _one_, calls a thousand forth, like thee replying! strange sweet echo, even like thee replying." hemans. this god, so adored and loved in the country, had the power of spreading terror and confusion when he pleased. the gauls, who under brennus, invaded greece, when on the point of pillaging the temple at delphi, were seized with a sudden panic and took to flight. this terror was attributed to pan, and they believed all panics, the cause of which was unknown, were produced by him. it was by the counsel of pan, that the gods at the moment of the assault of typhon, took the figures of various animals, changing himself into a goat, the skin of which was transported to heaven, and formed the sign of capricorn. "from the forests and highlands, we come, we come! from the river-girt islands, where the loud waves are dumb, listening to my sweet pipings. the wind in the reeds and the rushes, the bees in the bells of the lime, the birds in the myrtle bushes, the cicale above in the thyme, and the lizard below in the grass, were as silent as ever old tmolus was, listening to my sweet pipings. liquid peneus was flowing, and all dark tempe lay in pelion's shadow, outgrowing the light of the dying day, speeded by my sweet pipings. the sileni, and sylvans, and fauns, and the nymphs of woods, and waves, to the edge of the moist river lawns, and the brink of the dewy caves, and all that did there attendant follow, were silent with love, as you now, apollo, with envy of my sweet pipings. "i sang of the dancing stars, i sang of the dædal earth, and of heaven, and giant wars, and love, and death, and birth,-- and then i changed my pipings. { } singing how down the vale of menalus, i pursued a maiden and clasped a reed; gods and men were all deluded thus, it breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: all wept, as i think both ye now would, if envy or age had not frozen your blood, at the sorrow of my sweet pipings." * * * * * fauns, sylvans, and satyrs. the fauns were descended from faunus, son of picus king of italy, who was changed by circe into a woodpecker. "faunus who lov'st, thro' woodland glade, to pursue the sylvan maid, pass propitious now, i pray, where my tender lambkins stray: let each field and mountain high, own thy genial presence nigh. since with each returning year, in thy presence, i appear, with the victim's votive blood, mighty monarch of the wood, and upon thy sacred shrine, place the love inspiring wine, and, o'er all that hallowed ground, make the incense breathe around, hear o faunus, hear my prayer, my lands to bless, my flocks to spare. when december's nones return labour's yoke no more is borne, sport the cattle in the meads, the blythesome dance the peasant leads, even, 'mid that time of peace, beasts of prey their fury cease, the lambkin roams all free and bold, tho' feeds the wolf beside the fold, knowing well thy potent arm then protects from every harm. lo, to hail the sylvan king, woods their leafy honours bring, strewing in profusion gay, verdant foliage all the way. freed from toil, the labourer blythe flings aside the spade and scythe, glad to trip in nimble jig, the earth which he dislikes to dig." horace. they were the divinities of the woods and fields, and were represented as having the legs, feet, and ears of goats; the remainder of the body being human; the lamb and kid were offered to them by the peasants with great solemnity. { } the sylvans were the children of the foster father of god bacchus, who accompanied the latter in all his travels. bacchus having been well received and entertained at the court of midas, king of phrygia, he obtained from him the choice of whatever recompense he should name. midas demanded the power of turning all that he touched into gold. "'give me,' says he, (nor thought he asked too much,) 'that with my body whatsoe'er i touch, changed from the nature which it held of old, may be converted into yellow gold:' he had his wish: but yet the god repined, to think the fool no better wish could find. but the brave king departed from the place, with smiles of gladness, sparkling in his face: nor could contain, but, as he took his way, impatient longs to make the first essay; down from a lowly branch a twig he drew, the twig strait glittered with a sparkling hue: he takes a stone, the stone was turned to gold, a clod he touches, and the crumbling mould acknowledged soon the great transforming power, in weight and substance like a mass of ore. he plucked the corn, and straight his grasp appears, filled with a bending tuft of golden ears. an apple next he takes, and seems to hold the bright, hesperian, vegetable gold. his hand he careless on a pillar lays, with shining gold, the fluted pillars blaze. and while he wishes, as the servants pour, his touch converts the stream to danae's shower." ovid. he was quickly brought however to repent his avarice, when the very meat which he attempted to eat, turned to gold in his mouth, and the wine to the same metal, as it passed down his throat. he was now as anxious to be delivered from this fatal gift, as he was before to receive it, and implored the god to revoke a present so fatal to the recipient. "the ready slaves prepare a sumptuous board, spread with rich dainties for their happy lord, whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold, but its whole substance is transformed to gold: up to his mouth he lifts the savoury meat, which turns to gold as he attempts to eat: his patron's noble juice, of purple hue, touched by his lips a gilded cordial grew: unfit for drink, and wondrous to behold, it trickles from his jaws a fluid gold. the rich, poor fool confounded with surprize, staring on all his various plenty lies: { } sick of his wish, he now detests the power for which he asked so earnestly before: amidst his gold with pinching famine curst, and justly tortured with an equal thirst. at last his shining arms to heaven he rears and, in distress, for refuge flies to prayers. 'o father bacchus, i have sinned,' he cried, 'and foolishly thy gracious gift applied, thy pity now, repenting, i implore; oh! may i feel the golden plague no more!'" ovid. he was told to wash himself in the river pactolus; he performed the necessary ablution, and the very sands were turned into gold by the touch of midas. divine honours were given to silenus in arcadia, and from him the fauns and satyrs are often called sileni. the satyrs, also gods of the country, were considered as mischievous, and inspired by their appearance, great fright in the shepherds--although they bore with them a flute or tambourine, to make the nymphs dance, when they inflamed their senses by the burning nature of their harmony, and the rapid measure with which they trod to the music of these demi-gods. [illustration] to them were offered the first fruits of everything, and they attended chiefly upon bacchus, rendering themselves conspicuous in his orgies, by their riot and lasciviousness. it is said, that a satyr was brought to sylla, as that general returned from thessaly; the monster had been surprised asleep in a cave; his voice was inarticulate, when brought into the presence of the roman { } general, and sylla was so disgusted with the sight, that he ordered it instantly to be removed. the creature is said to have answered the description which poets and painters have given of the satyrs. priapus was the most celebrated among them, as the the son of venus, who meeting bacchus on his return from his indian expedition, was enamoured of him, and with the assistance of juno, became the mother of priapus. juno having vowed vengeance against the goddess of beauty, took that opportunity to deform her son in all his limbs; notwithstanding which, as he grew up, his inclinations and habits became so vicious, that he was known as the god of lewdness. his festivals took place principally at lampsacus, where they consecrated the ass to him; and the people naturally indolent, gave themselves up to every impurity during the celebration. when however his worship was introduced into rome, he became more the god of orchards and gardens, than the patron of licentiousness. he was there crowned with the leaves of the vine, and sometimes with laurel or rocket, the last of these plants, which is said to raise the passions and excite love, being sacred to him. the sylvans, were, like the fauns and satyrs, the guardian deities of the woods and wild places of the earth. terminus was a somewhat curious divinity, presiding over bounds and limits, and punishing all usurpation. his worship was first introduced by numa pompilius, who persuaded his subjects that the limits of their lands and states, were under the immediate inspection of heaven. his temple was on the tarpeian rock, and he was represented with a human head, though without feet or arms, to intimate that he never moved, wherever he might be placed. the people of the country assembled once a year with their families, and crowned with garlands and flowers, the stones which divided their different possessions. it is said that when tarquin the proud, wished to build a temple on the tarpeian rock to jupiter, the god terminus refused to give place, though the other gods resigned theirs with cheerfulness, and the oracles declared from this, that the extent of the empire should never be lessened. * * * * * { } hebe was the daughter of jupiter and juno; though by many she is said to be the daughter of juno only, who conceived her after eating lettuces. being fair, and always possessed of the bloom of beauty and youth, she was termed the goddess of youth, and made by her mother the cup-bearer to all the gods. she was dismissed from her office by jupiter, however, because she fell down as she was pouring nectar to the gods, at a grand festival, and ganymedes, a favourite of jupiter, succeeded to her office. "'twas on a day when the immortals at their banquet lay, the bowl sparkled with starry dew, the weeping of those myriad urns of light, within whose orbs, the almighty power at nature's dawning hour stored the rich fluid of ethereal soul. * * * * * * but oh! bright hebe, what a tear, and what a blush were thine, when, as the breath of every grace wafted thy feet along the studded sphere with a bright cup, for jove himself to drink, some star, that shone beneath thy tread, raising its amorous head to kiss those matchless feet, and all heaven's host of eyes. checked thy career so fleet: entranced, but fearful all, saw thee, sweet hebe, prostrate fall. * * * * * * but the bright cup? the nectared draught which jove himself was to have quaffed! alas, alas, upturned it lay by the fallen hebe's side; while in slow lingering drops, th' ethereal tide, as conscious of its own rich essence, ebbed away," moore. her mother employed her to prepare her chariot, and to harness her peacocks, when required. to her was granted the power of restoring to age the vigour of youth; and after hercules was elevated to the rank of a god, he became reconciled to juno by marrying her daughter hebe. * * * * * { } the centaurs. after the creation of the fauns and sylvans by the poets, the imagination of the latter invented the centaur, a monster, of which the superior part was that of a man, and the remainder that of the horse. [illustration] lycus, a mortal, being detained by circe in her magical dominion, was beloved by a water-nymph who desired to render him immortal; she had recourse to the sorceress, and circe gave her an incantation to pronounce. as lycus walked sorrowfully in the enchanted place, astonished at the many wondrous things which met his eye, he beheld ------"the realized nymph of the stream, rising up from the wave, with the bend and the gleam of a fountain, and o'er her white arms she kept throwing bright torrents of hair, that went flowing and flowing in falls to her feet, and the blue waters rolled down her limbs like a garment, in many a fold." hood. struck with each other's charms they loved, but unhappily the nymph, in her anxiety for her lover's immortality, and while calling upon her mistress to assist her, saw ------------------"the witch queen of that place, even circe the cruel, that came like a death which i feared, and yet fled not, for want of my breath, there was thought in her face, and her eyes were not raised from the grass at her foot, but i saw, as i gazed her hate--" { } this hate lycus soon experienced; as the spell desired by the nymph, was in the act of being pronounced, --------------------"i felt with a start, the life blood rush back in one throb to my heart, and saw the pale lips where the rest of that spell had perished in terror, and heard the farewell of that voice that was drowned in the dash of the stream! how fain had i followed, and plunged with that scream into death, but my being indignantly lagged thro' the brutalized flesh that i painfully dragged behind me--" hood. from this time his existence become a torture to him. though there were none of his former beings to consort with, yet still he loved to haunt the places of his humanity, and with a beating heart and bursting frame, behold the various occupations and pleasures in which he had formerly joined. "i once had a haunt near a cot. where a mother daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother its eye-lids in kisses, and then in its sleep sang dreams in its ears, of its manhood, while deep in a thicket of willows i gazed o'er the brooks that murmured between us, and kissed them with looks; but the willows unbosomed their secret, and never i returned to a spot i had startled for ever; tho' i oft longed to know, but could ask it of none, was the mother still fair, and how big was her son?" hood. time brought no remedy, for still he was troubled by the absence of sympathy, and the repression of that human feeling which yet clung like a curse to him. "for the haunters of fields, they all shunned me by flight, the men in their horror, the women in fright: none ever remained, save a child once that sported among the wild blue bells, and playfully courted the breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay tight strangled, because it had hissed him away from the flower at his finger; he rose and drew near like a son of immortals, one born to no fear, but with strength of black locks, and with eyes azure bright, to grow to large manhood of merciful might, he came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel the hair of my side and to lift up my heel, and questioned his face with wide eyes, but when under my lids he saw tears,--for i wept at his wonder, he stroked me, and uttered such kindliness then, that the once love of women, the friendship of men in past sorrow, no kindness, e'er came like a kiss on my heart in its desolate day, such as this { } and i yearned at his cheeks in my love, and down bent and lifted him up in my arms with intent to kiss him--but he cruel--kindly alas! held out to my lips a plucked handful of grass! then i dropped him in horror, but felt as i fled, the stone he indignantly hurled at my head, that dissevered my ear, but i felt not, whose fate, was to meet more distress in his love his hate!" hood. the only mitigation of his sorrow, was that when in thessaly "he met with the same as himself," and obtained with them, if not sympathy, at least companionship. chiron was the wisest of the centaurs. music, divination, astronomy, and medicine, were equally familiar to him, and his name is blended with those of the principal sages of greece, whom he instructed in the use of plants and medicinal herbs. the battle of the centaurs with the lapithæ at the bridal of perithous is famous in history, and was the cause of their destruction. the centaurs inflamed with wine, behaved with rudeness and even offered violence to the bride, and to the women that were present. "now brave perithous, bold ixion's son, the love of fair hippodamé had won. the cloud begotten race, half men, half beast, invited came to grace the nuptial feast: in a cool cave's recess the treat was made, whose entrance, trees, with spreading boughs o'ershade, they sat; and summoned by the bridegroom, came, to mix with those, the lapythæan name: ----------------the roofs with joy resound, and hymen, iö hymen, rung around. raised altars shone with holy fires: the bride lovely herself, (and lovely by her side a bevy of bright nymphs, with sober grace,) came glittering like a star, and took her place. her heavenly form beheld, all wished her joy; and little wanted, but in vain their wishes all employ. for one, most brutal of the brutal brood, or whether wine or beauty fired his blood, or both at once, beheld with lustful eyes the bride: at once resolved to make his prize. down went the board, and fastening on her hair, he seized with sudden force the frighted fair. 'twas eurytus began; his bestial kind his crime pursued, and each as pleased his mind on her, whom chance presented, took. the feast an image of a taken town expressed." ovid. * * * * * { } flora, pomona, vertumnus, the seasons. [illustration] flora was unknown among the greeks, having her birth with the romans. she was the goddess of flowers, --------------------------------"which unveil their breasts of beauty, and each delicate bud o' the season, comes in turn to bloom and perish. but first of all the violet, with an eye blue as the midnight heavens, the frail snow-drop, born of the breath of winter, and on his brow, fixed like a pale and solitary star, the languid hyacinth, and wild primrose, and daisy, trodden down like modesty, the fox-glove, in whose drooping-bells the bee makes her sweet music: the narcissus, named from him who died for love, the tangled woodbine lilacs and flowering limes, and scented thorns, and some from whom the voluptuous winds of june catch their perfumery." barry cornwall. she married zephyrus, and received from him the privilege of presiding over flowers, and enjoying perpetual youth. pomona was the goddess of fruits and fruit trees, and supposed to be the deity of gardens. "her name pomona, from her woodland race, in garden culture none could her excel, or form the pliant souls of plants so well; or to the fruit more generous flavours lend, or teach the trees with nobler loads to bend." { } pleased with her office, and unwilling to take upon herself the troubles of marriage, she vowed perpetual celibacy. numerous were the suitors who attempted to win her from her rash determination, but to all of them the answer was alike in the negative: tho' vertumnus, one of the most zealous, pursued her with unchanging ardour. "long had she laboured to continue free from chains of love and nuptial tyranny; and in her orchard's small extent immured, her vow'd virginity she still secured. oft would loose pan, and all the lustful train of satyrs, tempt her innocence in vain. vertumnus too pursued the maid no less, but with his rivals, shared a like success." ovid. miserable, but not cast down, by the many refusals he met with, vertumnus took a thousand shapes to influence the success of his suit. "to gain access, a thousand ways he tries oft in the hind, the lover would disguise, the heedless lout comes shambling on, and seems just sweating from the labour of his teams. then from the harvest, oft the mimic swain seems bending with a load of bearded grain. sometimes a dresser of the vine he feigns, and lawless tendrils to their boughs restrains. sometimes his sword a soldier shews; his rod an angler; still so various is the god. now, in a forehead cloth some crone he seems, a staff supplying the defect of limbs: admittance thus he gains; admires the store of fairest fruit; the fair possessor more; then greets her with a kiss; th' unpractised dame admired, a grandame kissed with such a flame. now seated by her, he beholds a vine, around an elm in amorous foldings twine, "if that fair elm," he cried, "alone should stand, no grapes would glow with gold, and tempt the hand; or if that vine without her elm should grow, 'twould creep a poor neglected shrub below. be then, fair nymph, by these examples led, nor shun for fancied fears, the nuptial bed." ovid. in this disguise, vertumnus recommended himself and his virtues to pomona. "on my assurance well you may repose, vertumnus scarce vertumnus better knows, true to his choice all looser flames he flies, nor for new faces fashionably dies. the charms of youth, and every smiling grace, bloom in his features, and the god confess." ovid. { } the pertinacious wooing of the metamorphosed deity, had, at last its effect, in preparing pomona for vertumnus, when he should assume his natural shape. "the story oft vertumnus urged in vain, but then assumed his heavenly form again; such looks and lustre the bright youth adorn, as when with rays glad phoebus paints the morn. the sight so warms the fair admiring maid, like snow she melts, so soon can youth persuade; consent on eager wings succeeds desire, and both the lovers glow with mutual fire." ovid. pomona had a temple at rome, and a regular priest, who offered sacrifices to her divinity for the preservation of fruit: she is generally represented sitting on a basket, full of flowers and fruit, holding a bough in one hand, and apples in the other. vertumnus is represented under the figure of a young man, crowned with various plants, bearing in his left hand fruits, and in his right a horn of abundance. the goddess pomona is often confounded with autumn, ceres with summer, and flora with spring. the four seasons have also been described with great distinctness, by poets, both ancient and modern, all of whom were delighted to pour forth tributes of praise in their honour; spring is usually drawn as a nymph, with her head crowned by a wreath of flowers; and many are the strains attributed to her. "i come, i come! ye have called me long, i come o'er the mountains with light and song! ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, by the winds which tell of the violet's birth, by the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, by the green leaves opening as i pass. i have breathed in the south, and the chesnut flowers, by thousands have burst from the forest bowers, and the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes, are veiled with wreaths on italian plains: but it is not for me in my hour of bloom, to speak of the ruin or the tomb. i have looked o'er the hills of the stormy north, and the larch has hung all his tassels forth, the fisher is out in the stormy sea, and the rein-deer bounds o'er the pastures free, and the fence has a fringe of softer green, and the moss looks bright where my foot hath been. i have sent thro' the wood-paths a glowing sigh, and called out each voice of the deep blue sky; from the night bird's lay thro' the starry time, { } in the groves of the soft hesperian clime, to the swan's wild note by the iceland lakes, when the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks. from the streams and founts i have loosed the chain, they are sweeping on to the silvery main, they are flashing down from the mountain brows, they are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, they are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, and the earth resounds with the joy of waves! come forth, o ye children of gladness, come! where the violets lie may be now your home. ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, and the bounding footstep to meet me fly! with the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, come forth to the sunshine, i may not stay. away from the dwellings of care-worn men, the waters are sparkling in grove and glen! away from the chamber and sullen hearth, the young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth! their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains. and youth is abroad in my green domains. but ye! ye are changed since ye met me last! there is something bright from your features past! there is something come over brow and eye, which speaks of a world where the flowers must die! ye smile!--but your smile hath a dimness yet-- oh! what have ye looked on since last we met? ye are changed, ye are changed! and i see not here all whom i saw in the vanished year! there were graceful heads with their ringlets bright, which tossed in the breeze with a play of light, there were eyes, in whose glistening laughter lay no faint remembrance of dull decay! there were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, as if for a banquet all earth were spread; there were voices that rung thro' the sapphire sky, and had not a sound of mortality! are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains passed? ye have looked on death since ye met me last! i know whence the shadow comes o'er you now, ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow! ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace, she hath taken the fairest of beauty's race, with their laughing eyes and their festal crown, they are gone from amongst you in silence down! the summer is coming, on soft winds borne, ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn! for me i depart to a brighter shore, ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more, i go where the loved, who have left you, dwell, and the flowers are not death's--farewell, farewell!" hemans. { } summer is drawn naked, bearing an ear of corn, just arriving at its fulness, to denote the harvest yielded by its light and heat; with a scythe in her hand, to intimate that it is the season of harvest. a welcome to the summer's pleasant song, a welcome to the summer's golden hour, a welcome to the myriad joys that throng, with a deep loveliness, o'er tree and flower, the earth is glad with beauty, the sky smiles in calm grandeur over vale and hill, and the breeze murmurs forth a gentle sigh, and the fish leap from out the smiling rill. the town's pale denizens come forth to breathe. the free, fresh air, and lave their fevered brows; and beauty loves young fairy flowers to wreathe beneath some stately forest's antique boughs. oh! art hath nought like this, the very air breatheth of beauty, banishing despair." francis. at other times, she is represented surrounded by the flowers which blossom latest, mingled with the delicious fruits which are the offspring of the summer season. "come away! the sunny hours woo thee far to founts and bowers! o'er the very waters now, in their play, flowers are shedding beauty's glow-- come away! where the lily's tender gleam quivers on the glancing stream-- come away! all the air is filled with sound, soft, and sultry, and profound; murmurs through the shadowy grass lightly stray; faint winds whisper as they pass-- come away; where the bee's deep music swells from the trembling fox-glove bells-- come away! in the skies the sapphire blue now hath won its richest hue; in the woods the breath of song night and day floats with leafy scents along-- where the boughs with dewy gloom come away! darken each thick bed of bloom come away! in the deep heart of the rose now the crimson love-hue glows; now the glow-worm's lamp by night sheds a ray, { } dreamy, starry, freely bright-- come away! where the fairy cup-moss lies, with the wild-wood strawberries, come away! now each tree by summer crowned, sheds its own night twilight round; glancing there from sun to shade, bright wings play; here the deer its couch hath made-- come away! where the smooth leaves of the lime glisten in the honey time, come away--away! hemans. autumn appears clad in a robe red with the juice of the vintage, which he yields to gladden the heart of man: while a dog is placed at his feet to denote it as the season of the chase. "i saw old autumn in the misty morn, stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence, for no lonely bird would sing into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; shaking his tangled locks all dewy bright with spangled gossamer that fell by night, pearling his coronet of golden corn. where are the songs of summer? with the sun, opening the dusky eyelids of the south, till shade and silence waken up alone, and morning sings with a warm odorous mouth. where are the merry birds? away, away on panting wings through the inclement skies, lest owls should prey undazzled at noon-day, and tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. where are the blooms of summer? in the west, blushing their last to the last sunny hours, when the mild eve by sudden night is prest like tearful proserpine, snatched from her flowers to a most gloomy breast. where is the pride of summer,--the green prime-- the many, many leaves all twinkling?--there on the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime trembling,--and one upon the old oak tree! where is the dryad's immortality? gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, or wearing the long, gloomy winter through in the smooth holly's green eternity. the squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard, the ants have trimm'd their garners with ripe grain, and honey bees have stored the sweets of summer in their luscious cells; { } the swallows all have winged across the main; but here the autumn melancholy dwells, and sighs her tearful spells, amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. alone, alone, upon a mossy stone, she sits and reckons up the dead and gone, with the last leaves for a love-rosary, whilst all the withered world looks drearily, like a dim picture of the drowned past in the hushed mind's mysterious far away, doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last into that distance, grey upon the grey. o go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded under the languid downfall of her hair; she wears a coronal of flowers faded, upon her forehead, and a face of care;-- there is enough of withered every where to make her bower,--and enough of gloom; there is enough of sadness to invite, if only for the rose that died--whose doom is beauty's,--she that with the living bloom of conscious cheeks, most beautifies the light; there is enough of sorrowing, and quite enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear, enough of chilly droppings for her bowl, enough of fear and shadowy despair, to frame her cloudy prison for the soul." hood. winter, as the oldest season, is drawn with shrivelled limbs, and white and hoary locks, to represent the appearance of old age. "when first the fiery mantled sun his heavenly race began to run; round the earth, in ocean blue his children four the seasons flew;-- first, in the green apparel dancing, the young spring smiled with angel grace; rosy summer next advancing, rushed into her sire's embrace:-- her bright haired sire, who bade her keep for ever nearest to his smiles, on calpe's olive shaded steep, on india's citron covered isles: now remote and buxom brown, the queen of vintage bowed before his throne; a rich pomegranate gemmed her crown, a ripe sheaf bound her zone. but howling winter fled afar, to hills that prop the polar star, and loves on deer-borne car to ride with barren darkness by his side, round the shore where loud lofoden whirls to death the roaring whale, round the hall where runic oden howls his war song to the gale; { } save when a-down the ravaged globe he travels on his native storm, deflowering nature's grassy robe, and trampling on her faded form: till light's returning lord assume the shaft that drives him to his polar field, of power to pierce his raven plume, and chrystal covered shield. oh, sire of storms, whose savage ear the lapland drum delights to hear, when frenzy with her bloodshot eye implores thy dreadful deity, archangel! power of desolation! fast descending as thou art, say, hath mortal invocation spells to touch thy stony heart? then, sullen winter, hear my prayer, and gently rule the ruined year; nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare, nor freeze the wretch's falling tear. to shuddering want's unmantled bed, thy horror-breathing agues cease to lead, and gently on the orphan head of innocence descend. but chiefly spare, o king of clouds, the sailor on his airy shrouds; when wrecks and beacons strew the steep, and spectres walk along the deep. milder yet thy snowy breezes pour on yonder tented shores, where the rhine's broad billow freezes, or the dark brown danube roars. oh, winds of winter! list ye there to many a deep and dying groan; or start, ye demons of the midnight air, at shrieks and thunders louder than your own. alas! e'en your unhallowed breath, may spare the victim fallen low; but man will ask no truce to death, no bounds to human woe." campbell. * * * * * divinities of the sea. oceanus and thetis. oceanus, one of the most powerful deities of the sea, was, according to homer, the parent of all the gods, and on that account received frequent visits from the remainder of the deities. he is represented as an old man, with a long, flowing beard, and sitting upon the waves of the sea. he often holds a pike in his hand, whilst ships under sail appear at a distance, or a sea monster stands near him. { } oceanus presided over every part of the sea, and even the rivers were subjected to his power. the ancients were very reverential in their homage to oceanus, and worshipped with great solemnity a deity, to whose care they entrusted themselves when going on any voyage. he was the father of the oceanides to the number of three thousand. "three thousand graceful oceanides long-stepping, tread the earth, or far and wide dispersed, they haunt the glassy depth of lakes, a glorious sisterhood of goddess birth." hesiod. thetis, one of the sea deities, was daughter of nereus and doris and is often confounded with tethys, her grandmother. she was loved by neptune and jupiter; but when the gods were informed that her son would become greater than his father, they ceased their addresses, and peleus, the son of �acus, was permitted to solicit her hand. thetis refused him, but the lover had the artifice to catch her when asleep, and by binding her strongly, prevented her escaping from his grasp. when thetis found she could not elude the vigilance of peleus, she consented to marry him, though much against her inclination. their nuptials were celebrated on mount peleon with great pomp, at which all the deities attended. "proteus thus to virgin thetis said, 'fair goddess of the waves, consent to wed, a son you'll have, the terror of the field, to whom, in fame and power, his sire shall yield.' jove, who adored the nymph with boundless love, did, from his breast, the dangerous flame remove; he knew the fates, nor cared to raise up one, whose fame and greatness, should eclipse his own. on happy peleus he bestowed her charms, and blessed his grandson in the goddess' arms: --a silent creek thessalia's coast can show, two arms project, and shape it like a bow; 'twould make a bay, but the transparent tide does scarce the yellow, gravel bottom hide; a grove of fragrant myrtle near it grows, whose boughs, though thick, a beauteous grot disclose the well wrought fabric, to discerning eyes, rather by art than nature seem to rise. a bridled dolphin, oft fair thetis bore to this her loved retreat, her favourite shore: here peleus seized her slumbering where she lay, and urged his suit, with all that love could say: the nymph o'erpowered, to art for succour flies, and various shapes the eager youth surprize. { } a bird she seems, but plies her wings in vain, his hand the fleeting substance still detain: a branchy tree, high in the air she grew, about its bark, his nimble arms he threw: a tiger next she glares with flaming eyes, the frightened lover quits his hold and flies. the sea-gods he with sacred rites adores, then a libation on the ocean pours; while the fat entrails crackle in the fire, and sheets of smoke in sweet perfume aspire: till proteus, rising from his oozy bed, thus to the poor, desponding lover said, 'no more in anxious thoughts your mind employ, for yet you shall possess the dear, expected joy, you must once more the unwary nymph surprize, as in her cooly grot she slumbering lies: then bind her fast with unrelenting hands, and strain her tender limbs with knotted bands; still hold her under every distant shape, till tired, she tries no longer to escape? thus he then sunk beneath the glassy flood, and broken accents fluttered where he stood. bright sol had almost now his journey done, and down the steepy, western convex run; when the fair nereid left the briny wave, and, as she used, retreated to her cave, he scarce had bound her fast, when she arose, and into various shapes her body throws; she went to move her arms, then found them tied, then with a sigh 'some god assists,' she cried, and in her proper shape stood blushing by his side." dryden. thetis became mother of several children by peleus, but all these she destroyed by fire in attempting to see whether they were immortal. achilles would have shared the same fate, if peleus had not snatched him from her hand, as she was going to repeat the cruel operation. she afterwards rendered his body invulnerable by plunging him in the waters of the styx, excepting that part of the heel by which she held him. as thetis well knew the future fate of her son, she attempted to remove him from the trojan war, by concealing him in the court of lycomedes. this, however, was useless, as he went with the rest of the greeks. the mother, still anxious for his preservation, prevailed upon vulcan to make him a suit of armour; but after it was done, she refused to fulfil the promise she had made to the god. when achilles was killed by paris, thetis issued out of the sea with the nereids to mourn his death, and after she had collected his ashes in a golden urn, raised a monument to his memory, and instituted festivals in his honour. * * * * * { } triton, proteus, portumnus, glaucus, �olus, the syrens, charybdis and scylla, circe and the harpies. triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and was reckoned of much importance among the sea deities, being able to raise or to calm storms at his pleasure. he is generally represented with a shell in his hand. "old triton blowing his sea horn." wordsworth. his body above the waist, is that of a man, but below, a dolphin's, while by some he is shown with the fore feet of a horse. he usually precedes the chariot of the god of the sea, sounding his shell, and is resembled, in this, by his sons the tritons. [illustration] proteus, son of oceanus and thetis, was guardian of the subjects of neptune, and had the power of looking into the future, from that god, because he had tended for him the monsters of the sea. "the shepherd of the seas, a prophet, and a god, high o'er the main, in watery pomp he rides, his azure car and finny coursers guides. with sure foresight, and with unerring doom he sees what is, and was, and is to come." virgil. from his knowledge of futurity, mankind are said to have received the greatest benefits. ----------------"blue proteus dwells, great neptune's prophet, who the ocean quells; he in a glittering chariot courses o'er the foaming waves, him all the nymphs adore, old nereus too, because he all things knows, the past, the present, and the future shows; { } so neptune pleased who proteus thus inspired, and with such wages to his service hired, gave him the rule of all his briny flocks, that feed among a thousand ragged rocks." the changes which this deity was able to make in his appearance, caused the name of proteus to be synonimous with change. thus "the proteus lover woos his playful bride, to win the fair he tries a thousand forms, basks on the sands, or gambols in the storms. a dolphin now, his scaly sides he laves; and bears the sportive damsel on the waves; she strikes the cymbals as he moves along, and wondering ocean listens to the song. and now a spotted pard the lover stalks, plays round her steps, and guards her favoured walks; as with white teeth he prints her hand, caressed, and lays his velvet paw upon her breast, o'er his round face her snowy fingers strain the silken knots and fit the ribbon-rein. and now a swan he spreads his plumy sails, and proudly glides before the fanning gales; pleased on the flowery brink with graceful hand she waves her floating lover to the land; bright shines his sinuous neck with crimson beak, he prints fond kisses on her glowing cheek, spreads his broad wings, elates his ebon crest, and clasps the beauty to his downy breast." darwin. he usually resided on the carpathian sea, and like the rest of the sea gods, reposed upon the shore, where those resorted who wished to consult him to obtain any revelation; but it was necessary to secure him, lest by taking some unnatural shape, he should elude their vigilance. [illustration] portumnus, the guardian of doors, was at first known as { } melicerta, and was the son of athamas and ino. he was saved by his mother from the fury of his father, athamas, who became inflamed by such a sudden fury, that he took ino for a lioness, and her two children for whelps. in this fit of madness, he dashed one of them against a wall; ino fled with melicerta in her arms, and threw herself into the sea from a high rock, and was changed into a sea deity, by neptune, who had compassion on her misfortunes. it is supposed by many, that the isthmian games were in honour of portumnus. glaucus was a fisher of boeotia, and remarking, on one occasion, that the fish which he threw on the grass, seemed to receive fresh vigour from touching the ground, he attributed it to the grass, and tasting it, was seized with a sudden desire to live in the sea. upon this, he leapt into the water, and was made a sea deity by oceanus, at the request of the marine gods. [illustration] �olus, god of the winds, reigned in the vulcanean islands, and was under the power of neptune, who allowed him to give liberty to the winds, or to recall them into their caverns at his pleasure. "oh many a voice is thine thou wind! full many a voice is thine, from every scene thy wing o'ersweeps thou bear'st a sound and sign; a minstrel wild and strong thou art, with a mastery all thine own, and the spirit is thy harp, o wind! that gives the answering tone. "thou hast been across red fields of war, where shivered helmets lie, and thou bringest thence the thrilling note of a clarion in the sky: { } a rustling of proud banner folds, a peal of stormy drums,-- all these are in thy music met, as when a leader comes. "thou hast been o'er solitary seas, and from their wastes brought back each noise of waters that awoke in the mystery of thy track; the chime of low, soft southern waves on some green palmy shore, the hollow roll of distant surge, the gathered billows roar. "thou art come from forests dark and deep, thou mighty, rushing wind! and thou bearest all their unisons in one, full swell combined; the restless pines, the moaning stream, all hidden things and free, of the dim, old sounding wilderness, have lent their soul to thee. "thou art come from cities lighted up for the conqueror passing by, thou art wafting from their streets, a sound of haughty revelry: the rolling of triumphant wheels, the harpings in the hall, the far off shout of multitudes, are in thy rise and fall. "thou art come from kingly tombs and shrines, from ancient minsters vast, through the dark aisles of a thousand years thy lonely wing hath passed; thou hast caught the anthem's billowy swell, the stately dirge's tone; for a chief, with sword and shield, and helm, to his place of slumber's gone. "thou art come from long forsaken homes, wherein our young days flew, thou hast found sweet voices lingering there, the loved, the kind, the true! thou callest back those melodies, though now all changed and fled, be still, be still, and haunt us not with music from the dead! "are all these notes in thee, wild wind? these many notes in thee? far in our own unfathomed souls their fount must surely be; yes! buried, but unsleeping, there; thought watches, memory lies, from whose deep urn the tones are poured through all earth's harmonies." hemans. { } the principal winds are boreas, auster, eurus and zephyrus. boreas, god of the north, carried away orithya, who refused to receive his addresses. by her he had zetes and calais, cleopatra and cheone. he once changed himself into a horse, to unite himself with the mare of dardanus, by which he had a female progeny of twelve, so swift, that they ran or rather flew over the sea without wetting a foot. the athenians dedicated altars to him when xerxes invaded europe. auster, god of the south wind, appeared generally as an old man with grey hair, a gloomy countenance, a head covered with clouds, a sable vesture and dusky wings. he is the dispenser of rain and of all heavy showers. eurus, god of the east, is represented as a young man, flying with great impetuosity, and often appearing in a playful and wanton humour. zephyrus, god of the west, the warmest of all the winds, married flora, and was said to produce flowers and fruits, by the sweetness of his breath. companion of love, he has the figure of a youth, and the wings of a butterfly. songs of the winds. "we are free! we are free! in our home the skies, when we calmly sleep, or in tumult rise, when we smile on the vision-like realms below, or vengefully utter the chords of woe. when we dance in the sunbeams, or laughingly play with the spring clouds that fly from our kisses away, when we grapple and fight with the bellowing foam, or slumber and sleep in our shadowless home." north wind. "i've blastingly wandered where nature doth pant; and gloomily pondered o'er sadness and want. an old man was sighing o'er angel lips gone, his cherub was dying, and he was alone. on his grey locks i clotted an ice-crown cold,-- his sinews i knotted; his tale is told." south wind. "i met two young lovers, and listed their vows, where the woodbine covers the old oak boughs. enhancing their pleasures i fluttered around. and joined with glad measures their soft sighs' sound. they blessed me for bringing sweet perfumes near, they blessed me for singing a cadence so dear." { } east wind. "i've wafted through bowers where angels might muse, and kiss their bright flowers of loveliest hues. and maidens were singing of beauty and love, their symphonies ringing, resounded above. i parted the tresses, from fairy-like brows, where the lily impresses its earliest vows." west wind. "i've rolled o'er the regions of earth and sea, and laughed at the legions that trembled at me. i've madly gambolled with clouds and waves; and closed, as i rambled, my victim's grave. i've roared and i've revelled, with fiend-like glee, earth's palaces levelled, wrecks dashed o'er the sea." chorus. "we are free, we are free, in our realms of air, we list to no sorrow, we own no care; we hold our carousals aloft with the stars, where they glitter along in their golden cars, we frolic and bound with the playful wave, which the prison-like confines of earth doth lave; we are glad, we are glad, and in breeze or in blast, we will sport round the world as long as 'twill last." jennings. alcyone, the daughter of �olus, married ceyx, who was drowned as he was going to claros to consult an oracle. alcyone was apprized in a dream of her husband's fate, and finding on the morrow his body upon the shore, she threw herself into the sea. the gods, touched by her fidelity, changed her and her husband into the birds of the same name, who keep the waters calm and serene while they build and sit on their nests in the surface of the sea. "o, poor alcyone! what were thy feelings on the stormy strand, when thou saw'st ceyx borne a corse to land? o, i could weep with thee, and sit whole tides upon the pebbly shore, and listen to the waves lamenting roar, o, poor alcyone! but now thy stormy passion past, thou upon the wave at last, buildest, from all tempest free, thou and ceyx, side by side, charming the distempered tide, o, dear alcyone!" the syrens were three in number, and were companions of proserpine, at the time of her being carried off; they prayed for wings from the gods, to unite their efforts with those of ceres. { } in despair at the uselessness of their search, they retired to the sea shore, where, in the midst of desolate rocks, they sang songs of the most enchanting and attractive nature, while those who were drawn by their beauty to listen to them, perished on the spot. [illustration] "who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul, and lap it in elysium: scylla wept and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." ovid. charybdis was an avaricious woman, who, stealing from hercules, was slain by him, and became one of the divinities of the sea. scylla, daughter of hecate and of phorcys, was a beautiful nymph, greatly beloved by glaucus, also one of the deities of the sea. scylla scorned his addresses, and the god, to render her propitious, sought the aid of circe, who no sooner saw him than she became enamoured, and, instead of assisting him, tried to win his love to herself tho' in vain. to punish her rival, circe poured the juice of poisonous herbs into the waters of the fountain where scylla bathed, and no sooner had the nymph entered, than her body, below the { } waist, was changed into frightful monsters, like dogs, which never ceased barking, while the remainder of her form assumed an equally hideous appearance, being supported by twelve feet, with six different heads, each bearing three rows of teeth. this sudden metamorphose so alarmed her, that she threw herself into that part of the sea which separates the coast of italy and sicily, where she was changed into rocks which continue to bear her name, and which were deemed as dangerous to sailors, as the whirlpool of charybdis, on the coast of sicily, and from which has arisen the proverb, "by avoiding charybdis we fall upon scylla!" "upon the beech a winding bay there lies, sheltered from seas, and shaded from the skies; this station scylla chose; a soft retreat from chilling winds and raging cancer's heat. the vengeful sorceress visits this recess, her charm infuses, and infects the place. soon as the nymph wades in, her nether parts turn into dogs, then at herself she starts. a ghastly horror in her eyes appears but yet she knows not what it is she fears, in vain she offers from herself to run, and drag's about her what she strives to shun. "oppressed with grief the pitying god appears, and swells the rising surges with his tears; from the detested sorceress he flies, her art reviles, and her address denies, whilst happless scylla, changed to rocks, decrees destruction to those barks that beat the seas." garth. the harpies were monsters with the faces of old women, the wings and body of a vulture, the ears of a bear, having claws on their feet and hands, and spreading famine wherever they made their hideous appearance. [illustration] * * * * * { } divinities of the infernal regions. the parcæ or fates, were three powerful goddesses, who presided over the birth and life of mankind. clotho, the youngest of the sisters, governed the moment of birth, and held a distaff in her hand: lacheses spun out all the events and actions in the time; and atropos, the eldest, cut the thread of humanity with her scissors. ------"the fates, in vengeance pitiless; who at the birth of men dispense the lot of good and evil. they of men and gods the crimes pursue, nor ever pause from wrath tremendous, till destructive on the head of him that sins the retribution falls." hesiod. their powers were great and extensive, and they are represented by some as sitting at the foot of the throne of the king of hell; while others make them appear on radiant seats amidst the celestial spheres, clothed in robes spangled with stars, and wearing crowns on their heads. their dresses are differently described by some authors. clotho has on a variegated robe, and on her head a crown of seven stars. she holds a distaff in her hand, reaching from heaven to earth. the garment which lacheses wore was variegated with a great number of stars, and near her a variety of spindles. atropos was clothed in black; she held scissors in her hand, with clues of threads of various sizes, according to the length or shortness of the lives whose destinies they were supposed to contain. "the three parcæ, fates fair offspring born, the world's great spindle as its axle turn; round which eight spheres in beauteous order run, and as they turn, revolving time is spun, whose motions all things upon earth ordain, whence revolutions date their fickle reign. these robed in white, at equal distance throned, sit o'er the spheres, and twirl the spindle round, on each of which a syren loudly sings, as from the wheel the fatal thread she flings; the parcæ answer, in the choir agree and all those voices make one harmony." the worship of the parcæ was well established in some parts of greece, and though mankind knew they were inexorable, and that { } it was impossible to mitigate their decrees, yet they evinced a respect for their divinity, by raising statues to them. [illustration] * * * * * night. nox, one of the most ancient deities among the heathens, was the daughter of chaos. from her union with her brother erebus, she gave birth to day and light: she is called by some of the poets, the mother of all things, of gods no less than of men, and was worshipped with great solemnity by the ancients, who erected to her a famous statue in diana's temple at ephesus. the cock was offered to her, as the bird which proclaims the coming of the day. she is drawn mounted on a chariot, and covered with a veil bespangled with stars, and the constellations preceded her as her messengers. sometimes she is seen holding two children under her arms, one of which is dark like night, and the other light like day. "night, when like perfumes that have slept all day within the wild flower's heart, steal out the thoughts the soul has kept in silence and apart: and voices we have pined to hear, through many a long and lonely day, come back upon the dreaming ear, from grave lands far away, and gleams look forth of spirit eyes like stars along the darkening skies!" hervey. { } she has been described by some of the modern writers, as a woman clothed in mourning, crowned with poppies, and drawn in a chariot by owls and bats. song of night. "i come to thee, o earth! with all my gifts; for every flower, sweet dew in bell, and urn, and chalice, to renew the glory of its birth. i come with every star; making thy streams, that on their noon-day track, give but the moss, the reed, the lily back, mirrors of world's afar. i come with peace; i shed sleep through the wood walks, o'er the honey bee, the lark's triumphant voice, the fawn's young glee, the hyacinth's meek head. on my own heart i lay the weary babe; and sealing with a breath its eyes of love, send fairy dreams, beneath the shadowing lids to play. i come with mightier things! who calls me silent? i have many tones-- the dark skies thrill with low mysterious moans, borne on my sweeping wings. i waft them not alone from the deep organ of the forest shades, or buried streams, unheard amidst their glades till the bright day is done. but in the human breast, a thousand still, small voices i awake, strong in their sweetness, from the soul to shake the mantle of its rest. i bring them from the past, from true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn, from crushed affections, which, though long o'erborne, make their tones heard at last. i bring them from the tomb! o'er the sad couch of late repentant love they pass--though low as murmurs of a dove-- like trumpets through the gloom. i come with all my train; who calls me lonely? hosts around me tread, the intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead, phantoms of heart and brain. looks from departed eyes-- these are my lightnings! fill'd with anguish vain, or tenderness too precious to sustain, they smite with agonies. { } i that with soft control, shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song, i am the avenging one! the arm'd, the strong, the searcher of the soul. i that shower dewy light through slumbering leaves, bring storms!--the tempest birth of memory, thought, remorse:--be holy, earth! i am the solemn night!" hemans. * * * * * death. poets have given to death a heart of iron, bowels of steel, black wings, and a net with which she envelopes her victims. statuaries carve her under the form of a large skeleton, armed with a scythe, and bearing wings. sparta and elis honoured her, but phoenicia and spain paid to her more particularly the homage of a divinity. she inhabits the infernal regions; and though, in more modern times, death has been always addressed as a divinity of the masculine gender. the lacedæmonians indeed, regarded her, not as an existing, but as an imaginary being. "mysterious power! whose dark and gloomy sway extends o'er all creation, what art thou? they call thee 'king of terrors!' drear dismay followeth thy footsteps, and around thy brow hovers a thick impenetrable cloud, which, to some hearts, is hope's sad funeral shroud. beside the infant on its cradle bed, the mother watches thro' the hour of night; hope hath not quite her lonely spirit fled, tho' o'er her first-born babe hath passed the blight of fell disease: wait, wait one moment more, thy hand has touched it, death, and hope is o'er. thou turn'st the hall of revelry to gloom, the wedding garment to a garb of woe; thou com'st in silence to the banquet room, ceased is the noisy mirth, the red wine's flow, and men look pale at thee, and gasp for breath, thou doest this, thou doest more, oh! death thou twin'st the cypress wreath round victory's brow, the brave have won the fight, but, fighting, fell; it was thine arm that laid the victor low, and toll'd amid the triumph, a lone knell for his departure: death--thy gloomy power can throw a sadness o'er the happiest hour. thou comest to the monarch in his hour of pomp, and pride, and royalty's array; and the next victim of thy reckless power may be the beggar in his hut of clay: thy hand can lay the tattered vagrant down beside the head that wore the kingly crown. { } childhood is thine, its unexpanded bloom, shrinks to decay beneath thy chilling breath; gay youth, thou witherest, with thy touch of doom, stern manhood shrinks beneath thy grasp, oh, death, and fragile age by worldly cares opprest, sinks, softly sinks, into those arms for rest. and then methought death's hollow voice replied, 'rash mortal--would'st thou tempt the dangerous gloom, launch thy frail bark upon the awful tide that leaves the lonely islands of the tomb; darest thou, in thy vain impotence of pride demand the knowledge to frail man denied? call'st thou me reckless, when i place my hand upon the earliest buddings of the spring? had i allowed those sweet buds to expand, what would the skies of gloomy autumn bring? darkness, dismay: those sweet buds, leaf by leaf, had sadly faded, full of tears and grief. what though i slew the victor in his pride, 'tis meet the brave on battle field should die, his name is echoed thro' the nations wide, reared is the column where his ashes lie; he sought for fame, he won it, bravely won; he died for fame, when his great task was done. what tho' i turn the banquet room to grief, the wedding garment to a garb of woe, do i not bring to wounded hearts relief? do i not ease the wretched of his woe? then taunt me not with wanton cruelty, man knows 'tis written 'thou must surely die!' but at what hour, no mortal power may know, whether at morn, at dewy eve, or night, when sinks the heart beneath its weight of woe, or throb the pulses with supreme delight, vain mortal! cease god's sovereign will to scan, be thou prepared to meet the son of man!'" clarke. * * * * * sleep. sleep, the accustomed companion of night, inhabits the lower regions, though ovid has placed his palace in the cold scythia. ----------------"in his dark abode deep in a cavern dwells the drowsy god, whose gloomy mansion nor the rising sun nor setting, visits, nor the lightsome noon; but lazy vapours round the region fly, perpetual twilight and a doubtful sky; no crowing cock does there his wings display nor with his horny bill provoke the day; nor watchful dogs, nor the more wakeful geese, disturb, with nightly noise, the sacred peace: { } nor beast of nature nor the laws, are nigh, nor trees with tempests rocked, nor human cry, but safe repose, without an air of breath, dwells here, and a dumb quiet next to death, an arm of lethe with a gentle flow, arising upward from the rock below, the palace moats, and o'er the pebbles creeps, and with soft murmurs calls the coming sleeps. around its entry nodding poppies grew, and all cool simples that sweet rest bestow; night from the plants their sleepy virtue drains, and passing, sheds it on the silent plains: no door there was th' unguarded house to keep, on creaking hinges turned to break his sleep. but in the gloomy court was raised a bed, stuffed with black plumes, and in an ebon stead; black was the covering too where lay the god, and slept supine, his limbs displayed abroad." ovid. the principal minister of sleep is morpheus, son of somnus, who was the presider over sleep; the former was the parent of dreams, of whom, by a beautiful idea, imagination was said to be the mother. the palace of somnus was a dark cave, where the god lies asleep on a bed of feathers. the dreams stand by him, and morpheus, as his principal minister, watches, to prevent any noise from awaking him. "oh lightly, lightly tread, a holy thing is sleep; on the worn spirit shed, and eyes that wake to weep. a holy thing from heaven, a gracious, dewy cloud, a covering mantle given, the weary to enshroud! oh! lightly, lightly tread; revere the pale, still brow, the meekly drooping head, the long hair's willowy flow. ye know not what ye do, that call the slumberers back, from the world unseen by you unto life's dim faded track. her soul is far away, in her childhood's land, perchance, where her young sisters play, where shines her mother's glance. some old sweet native sound her spirit haply weaves; a harmony profound, of woods with all their leaves. { } a murmur of the sea, a laughing tone of streams; long may her sojourn be in the music land of dreams. each voice of love is there, each gleam of beauty fled, each lost one still more fair-- oh! lightly, lightly tread!" hemans. by the lacedæmonians, the image of somnus was always placed near that of death on account of their apparent resemblance. "how wonderful is death, death and his brother sleep! one, pale as yonder waning moon, with lips of lurid blue; the other rosy as the morn when throned in ocean's wave, it blushes o'er the world: yet both so passing wonderful!" shelley. ---------------"the one glides gentle o'er the space of earth, and broad expanse of ocean waves, placid to man. the other has a heart of iron; yea, the heart within his breast is brass, unpitying; whom of men he grasps stern he retains." hesiod * * * * * manes. the manes was a name applied generally to the soul after it has separated from the body, and were among the infernal deities being supposed to preside over the grave, burial places, and monuments of the dead. they were worshipped with great great solemnity, particularly by the romans, and were always invoked by the augurs before proceeding about their sacerdotal offices. it was believed that these spirits quitted, during the hours of night, their melancholy dwelling-place, and "revisited the glimpses of the moon," to exercise their benevolence or their fury. they were allowed also to leave their tombs three times during the course of the year while their fêtes, which were the most pompous in rome, were proceeding in their honour. * * * * * { } nemesis. nemesis, goddess of justice and of vengeance, was the daughter of necessity. this divinity had wings, a fillet of serpents round her brow, and a sword to strike the unhappy criminals who merited its blow;--though always ready to punish the impious, she was equally liberal in rewarding the good and the virtuous. the people of smyrna were the first who made her statue with wings, to show with what celerity she is prepared to punish the crimes of the wicked. [illustration] the romans were particularly attentive in their adoration of this deity, whom they solemnly invoked, and to whom they offered sacrifices before declaring war, to evince to the world that they were commenced upon equitable grounds. the athenians instituted fêtes called nemesia, in memory of deceased persons, as the goddess was supposed to defend the relics and the memory of the dead from insult. * * * * * domestic divinities. the lares and the penates. the lares were the household divinities who presided over the interests of private families. their worship is supposed to have { } arisen from the ancient custom among the romans and other nations, of burying their dead within their houses, and the belief that the spirits of the departed continually hovered over their former dwellings, for the protection of the inhabitants. their statues were placed in a niche behind the doors of the houses, or around the hearths; while at their feet was placed a dog barking, to intimate the watchfulness they exhibited. their festivals were observed at rome in the month of may, when their statues were crowned with garlands of flowers, and fruit offerings presented to them. the penates also closely resembled the lares, and presided over houses and the domestic affairs of families. it was at the option of every master of a family to choose his penates, and therefore jupiter and some of the superior gods, are often invoked as domestic divinities. they were originally the manes of the dead, but when mankind had been taught by superstition to pay deep reverence to the statues or images of their deceased friends, that reverence was soon changed for a more regular worship, and they were admitted by their votaries to share immortality and power, with the remainder or the gods. the statues of the penates were generally formed of wax, silver, ivory, or earthenware, according to the poverty or riches of the worshipper. when offerings were made to them, their shrines were crowned with garlands, and besides one day in every month set apart for their homage, their festivals were celebrated during the saturnalia. hymn to the penates. "yet one song more! one high and solemn strain, ere, phoebus! on thy temples ruined wall i hang the silent harp: one song more! penates! hear me! for to you i hymn the votive lay. venerable powers! hearken your hymn of praise. though from your rites estranged, and exiled from your altars long, i have not ceased to love you, household gods! o ye whom youth has 'wildered on your way, or vice with fair mask'd foulness, or the lure of fame that calls ye to her crowded path with folly's rattle, to your household gods return: for not in vice's gay abodes, { } not in the unquiet, unsafe halls of fame doth happiness abide!" -----------------"to your household gods return, for by their altars, virtue dwells, and happiness with her; hearken your hymn of praise, penates! to your shrines i come for rest,-- there only to be found. household deities, there only shall be happiness on earth when man shall feel your sacred power, and love your tranquil joys; then shall the city stand a huge, void sepulchre, and rising fair amid the ruins of the palace pile, the olive grow, there shall the tree of peace strike its roots deep, and flourish." southey. * * * * * genius. the genius was a kind of spirit which, as the ancients supposed, presided over the actions of mankind, gave them their private councils, and carefully watched over their most secret intentions. some of the ancient philosophers maintained, that every man had two of these, the one bad, the other good. they had the power of changing themselves into whatever form they pleased, and of assuming whatever shapes were most subservient to their intentions. at the moment of death, they delivered up to judgment the person with whose care they had been entrusted; and according to the evidence he delivered, sentence was passed upon the body. the genius of socrates is famous in history. that great philosopher asserted that the genius informed him when any of his friends were going to engage in some unfortunate enterprise, and stopped him from the commission of all crimes and impiety. the genii, though at first reckoned only as the subordinate ministers of the superior deities, received divine honour for a length of time, and we find altars and statues erected to them. * * * * * principal divinities of the second order. the graces. the graces, who were daughters of jupiter and of venus, presided over the enjoyments of the mind, as well as over those of the heart. thus the orator received from them the force and brilliancy of his ideas; the artist, his perception of the beautiful; the wise man, that spirit of amiability which appreciates the charms of { } virtue; the rich man, a love of beneficence and desire of giving; the poor gaiety and patience; the maiden, candour and modesty; and the warrior, bravery united with moderation. the worship of the graces appeals to have had birth in samothracia; then elis, perinthia, delphi, and rome adopted the three sisters. by some it is asserted, that the beautiful trio remained unwedded; homer, however, has given sleep to the youngest as a husband. during the many sacrifices which were instituted in the various cities, offerings to them were mingled with those to bacchus, mercury, the muses, and apollo. the spartan heroes before going to combat, sacrificed to love and to the graces. they were invoked at festivals, and three cups were drunk by those who feasted in honour of euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. of them, the greatest statuaries have erected the most groups, and socrates himself, before he joined the philosophy in which he ultimately became so eminent, had taken the chisel in his hand, and represented them of slight figure, pure countenance, smiling faces, small mouths, hair negligently tied over their head, and with their hands placed in a graceful attitude. they sometimes bear with them a branch of myrtle and of roses, the flowers peculiarly consecrated to them. [illustration] * * * * * { } comus, momus. [illustration] comus, god of the pleasures of the table and of good living, was the presider over feasts and festivals, and was honoured most by the dissipated youth who, to do him reverence, wandered about at night in masks, dancing to the sound of musical instruments, and knocking at the doors of dwelling places. during his festivals, men and women exchanged each others dresses. he is represented as a young and drunken man, with a garland of flowers upon his head, his face lit up by the deity of wine, and with a flambeau in his hand which appears falling. song of comus. "welcome joy, and feast, midnight shout and revelry, tipsy dance and jollity. braid your locks with rosy twine, dropping odours, dropping wine, rigour now is gone to bed, and advice with scrupulous head: strict age and sour severity, with their grave saws, in slumber lie. we, that are of purer fire, imitate the starry quire, who, in their nightly watchful spheres, lead in swift round the months and years. * * * * * * what hath night to do with sleep? night hath better sweets to prove; venus now wakes, and wakens love. { } come, let us our rites begin; 'tis only day-light that makes sin, which these dim shades will ne'er report. come, knot hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round." milton. momus, his companion, is the god of joy and pleasantry, and was the buffoon and satirist of olympus. he wears as head dress, a cap adorned with small bells, a mask in one hand, and on the other a bauble, the symbol of folly. he was constantly engaged in mocking the gods, and whatever they did was freely turned into ridicule. he laughed at minerva, who had made a house, because she had not formed it moveable, that the annoyance of a bad neighbourhood might be avoided. he sneered at neptune's bull, because the eyes were not placed near enough to the horn, to render his blows surer. he irritated vulcan, by observing that if he wished to make man perfect, he should have placed a window at his heart; and when he found the beauty of venus was too perfect to allow of any truth to be mixed with his bitterness, he declared that the noise made by the goddess in walking was far too loud to be agreeable, and detracted from her beauty. at last these illiberal reflections were the cause of his being turned out of olympus. momus has been sung many times by the choice spirits whom he inspired, as well as by the dissipated youth of the city, and occupies in poetry, a rank more elevated than that of comus. he was greatly honoured during the more dissipated times of rome, and it was the custom to pour libations to him, before commencing a nocturnal revel. * * * * * hymen. this child of venus and bacchus presided over marriages, and has the appearance of a beautiful youth, holding a torch in his hand, and in the other a purple garment, with his head ornamented by a crown of roses. "till hymen brought his love-delighted hour. there dwelt no joy in eden's rosy bower! in vain the viewless seraph lingering there, at starry midnight charmed the silent air; in vain the wild bird carolled on the steep to hail the sun, slow wheeling from the deep; { } in vain, to soothe the solitary shade, aerial notes in mingling pleasure played; the summer wind that shook the spangled trees, the whispering wave, the murmuring of the breeze; still slowly passed the melancholy day, and still the stranger wist not where to stray. the world was sad; the garden was a wild! and man, the hermit, sighed,--till woman smiled!" campbell. according to the more received opinions of others, hymenæus was a young athenian of extraordinary beauty, but of low origin. becoming enamoured of one of the richest and noblest of his countrywomen, he worshipped her at a distance, and followed her, though respectfully, wherever she went: and, on one occasion, joined the nations of athens in a religious procession, disguising his sex by women's clothes. when they reached eleusis, a great part of the procession were seized by a band of pirates, who suddenly appeared amongst them: hymenæus shared the captivity of his mistress, and encouraging the captives, they slew their ravishers while they slept. immediately after this, hymenæus repaired to athens, and promised to deliver them if he were allowed to marry the one he might choose from amongst them. the athenians consented; and the lover received so much happiness in the marriage state, that festivals were instituted in his honour, and he was solemnly invoked at their nuptials. "hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source of human offspring, sole propriety, in paradise of all things common else! by thee adulterous lust was driven from men among the bestial herds to range; by thee founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, relations dear, and all the charities of father, son, and brother, first were known, far be it that i should write thee sin or blame, or think thee unbefitting holiest place; perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, whose bed is undefiled, and chaste pronounced, present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used. here love his golden shafts employs, here lights his constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, reigns here and revels, not in the bought smile of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared, casual fruition; nor in court amours, mixed dance or wanton mask, or midnight ball, or serenade, which the starved lover sings to his proud fair, best quitted with disdain." milton { } it was supposed that he always attended at nuptials; if not, matrimonial connections were fatal, and ended unhappily, and therefore people ran about calling aloud, hymen! hymen! "god of the torch, whose soul-illuming flame beams brightest radiance o'er the human heart, of many a woe the cure, of many a joy the source. friend to each better feeling of the soul, i sing to thee, for many a joy is thine, and many a virtue comes to join thy happy train. parent of every bliss, the busy hand of fancy, oft will paint in brightest hues how calm, how clear thy torch illumes the wintry hour. we'll paint the well-trimmed fire, the frugal meal, prepared with good solicitude to please, the ruddy children round, climbing the father's knee. and oft will fancy rise above the lot of honest poverty, and dream how man nor rich, nor poor, enjoys his best and happiest state. when toil no longer irksome, and restrained by hard necessity, but comes to please, to vary the still hour of tranquil happiness, lured by the splendour of thy sacred torch, the beacon light of bliss, young love draws near, and leads his willing slaves to wear thy flowery chain." southey. "hymen, late, his love-knots selling, called at many a maiden's dwelling; none could doubt, who saw, or knew them, hymen's call was welcome to them. 'who'll buy my love-knots? who'll buy my love knots?' soon as that sweet cry resounded, how his baskets were surrounded! maids, who now first dreamt of trying those gay knots of hymen's tying; dames, who long had sat to watch him passing by, but ne'er could catch him, 'who'll buy my love-knots? who'll buy my love-knots?' all at that sweet cry assembled; some laughed, some blushed, and others trembled. { } 'here are knots,' said hymen, taking some loose flowers of love's own making; 'here are good ones, you may trust 'em,' (these, of course, found ready custom,) 'come buy my love-knots, come buy my love-knots! some are labelled-knots to tie men, love, the maker--bought of hymen.' scarce their bargains were completed, when the nymphs all cried, 'we're cheated; 'see these flowers, they're drooping sadly, this gold-knot, too, ties but badly'-- 'who'll buy my love-knots, who'll buy my love-knots!' even this tie, with love's name round it, all a sham, he never bound it! love, who saw the whole proceeding, would have laughed, but for good breeding; while old hymen, who was used to, cries like that these dames gave loose to, 'take back our love-knots, take back our love-knots!' coolly said, 'there's no returning wares on hymen's hands--good morning!'" moore. * * * * * plutus --------------"all bountiful, who roams earth, and the expanded surface of the sea; and him that meets him on his way, whose hands he grasps, him gifts he with abundant gold, and large felicity." hesiod. plutus is the god of riches, and as the minister of the deity of the dead, inhabits the court of pluto, thereby indicating that the precious metals are in the bowels of the earth. he was brought up by the goddess of peace, and the greeks spoke of him as a fickle divinity, because represented as blind, he spreads by chance in his rapid course, the gold, silver, and precious stones, which escape from a box he holds in his hands; as lame, because he came slow and gradually; and with wings, to intimate that he flew away with greater velocity than he approached mankind. fortuna was the goddess of fortune, and from her hands were derived riches and poverty, pleasures and misfortunes, blessings and pains. governed by destiny, she guides by occasion; and before her marches necessity, the inflexible goddess. { } in boeotia she had a statue, represented as holding plutus in her arms, to intimate that fortune is the source whence wealth and honours flow. she is blind-folded, and her hand rests on a wheel, to intimate her inconstancy. [illustration] * * * * * harpocrates. harpocrates, the son of isis and osiris, is the god of silence. he is represented, in his statues as young, but with a countenance calm and severe, and on his brow a mitre, divided into two equal portions. his finger is placed upon his lip, to intimate the silence he maintains, and hence, all modern works of art adopt the same sign, when they wish to represent the quality over which harpocrates is supposed to preside. the romans placed his statue at the entrance of their temples, to intimate that the mysteries of religion should never be revealed to the people. "there is a lake that to the north of memphis, stretches grandly forth, upon whose silent shore the dead have a proud city of their own, with shrines and pyramids o'erspread-- where many an ancient, kingly head slumbers, immortalized in stone; and where, through marble grots beneath, the lifeless, ranged like sacred things, nor wanting aught of life, but breath, lie in their painted loveliness, { } and in each new successive race, that visit their dim haunts below, look with the same unwithering face, they wore three thousand years ago. there silence, thoughtful god, who loves the neighbourhood of death, in groves of asphodel lies hid, and weaves his hushing spell among the leaves-- nor ever noise disturbs the air, save the low, humming, mournful sound of priests, within their shrines at prayer, for the fresh dead, entombed around." moore. * * * * * themis, astr�a. themis, daughter of heaven and of earth, was the goddess of justice, she wears a bandage over her eyes, and holds in her hands a sword, scales, and the mirror of truth. her temple is always open. [illustration] astræa, with law and peace, are her children, the former of whom was worshipped as justice on the earth during the golden age; but the wickedness of mankind drove her from the world, during the succeeding periods of brass and iron, and she was placed among the constellations of the zodiac, under the name of virgo. she is represented as a maiden, with a stern but majestic countenance, holding a pair of scales in one hand, and a sword in the other. * * * * * { } demi-gods. the demi-gods are those, who, sprung from the union of a mortal with a divinity, have taken their place among the immortals; and "fabulous history" is the name given to the recital of their deeds. castor and pollux. from the love of jupiter for leda, wife of tyndarus, king of sparta, sprang these twin-brothers. under the form of a swan, pursued by venus: in the shape of an eagle, the god sought refuge in leda's arms, who in due time produced two eggs, from one of which came pollux and helena, and from the other, castor and clytemnestra. [illustration] scarcely had pollux emerged from childhood, when, being on an expedition with the argonauts, they stopped in the domains of amycus, (famous for his skill in the management of the cestus,) who challenged all strangers seeking his dominions to a trial of strength. pollux accepted his challenge, and surpassed him in skill, on which amycus attempting to conquer by fraud, pollux slew him on the spot; and became the patron of athletic exercises. castor was skilful in the art of guiding chariots, and subduing the most fiery coursers. these brothers fought theseus for outraging their sister helena; they destroyed the pirates who infested { } hellespont and the neighbouring seas, and from this have always been considered as gods favourable to sailors. during the argonautic expedition, in which they had accompanied jason, when a violent storm was raging, a couple of names were seen playing over their heads, and immediately the tempest was appeased, and the sea became calm. they were invited to a marriage feast, in which lynceus and idas were to be wedded to phoebe and talaria the daughters of leucippus, who was brother to tyndarus. becoming enamoured of the two women whose nuptials they had met to celebrate, they resolved to carry them off. this violence provoked the bridegrooms: a combat ensued, in which castor killed lynceus, and was slain in return by idas--pollux revenged the death of his brother, by slaying idas, but was unable after this to support life, so devotedly was he attached to his brother: and implored jupiter either to restore him to life, or that he might be deprived himself of his immortality. his prayers were granted, and the two brothers passed in turn six months in the infernal regions, and six months on earth. this fraternal affection jupiter rewarded by turning the two brothers into constellations, under the name of gemini. sparta, celebrated in honour of them, a fête called dioscuria, which was observed with jovial festivity: and in which free use was made of the gifts of bacchus, accompanied with sports, in which wrestling matches always formed an important part. * * * * * jason. this celebrated hero was the son of alcemede, by �son; the education of the youthful jason, whose right of succession to the throne of iolchos had been wrested from him by pelias, was entrusted to the care of the centaur chiron, and he was removed from the presence of the usurper of the kingdom of iolchos, because the latter had been informed by an oracle that one of the descendants of �olus, (from whom jason had come) would dethrone him. after he had distinguished himself by the most rapid success in every branch of science, jason left the country, and by the advice of his preceptor, went to consult the oracle. he was ordered to { } go to iolchos, his native country, covered with the spoils of a leopard, and dressed in the garments of a magnesian. in his journey he was stopped by the inundation of a river, over which, however, he was carried by juno, in the character of an old woman. in crossing the stream, he lost one of his sandals, and on his arrival at iolchos, the singularity of his dress, and the fairness of his complexion, attracted the notice of the people, and drew a crowd round him in the market place. pelias came to see him with the others, and, as he had been warned by the oracle, to beware of a man who should appear at iolchos with one foot bare, and the other shod, the appearance of jason, who as we have seen, had lost one of his sandals, alarmed him, and his terrors were soon after augmented, as jason, accompanied by his friends repaired to the palace of pelias, and demanded the kingdom of which he had been unjustly deprived. the boldness of jason intimidated pelias; he was unwilling to abdicate the crown, yet he feared the resentment of his adversary. [illustration] as jason was young and desirous of glory, pelias reminded him that their common relation, phryxus, had been inhumanly murdered by �etes, king of colchis, in order to obtain possession of the golden fleece which belonged to the murdered man; observing, that, the deed merited punishment, and was one which would produce a crown of glory to him who should inflict it; adding, that if jason, were to undertake it, he would resign his own crown and kingdom to him, immediately on his return. burning with the desire of { } military fame, jason readily undertook an expedition which seemed to promise so much glory. the expedition was bruited about all greece, and the young and ardent of the nation were called upon to join him in the glory and the danger. they set sail in a ship called argo and after a series of adventures arrived at colchis. alarmed at an invasion which appeared so formidable, �etes promised to restore the golden fleece for the possession of which he had slain phryxus, provided the invaders consented to the conditions he should propose, and which were as follows: jason was to tame bulls whose breath were fierce flames, with feet and horns of brass, and to plough with them, when subdued, a field sacred to mars. he was then to sow in the ground the teeth of a serpent, from which armed men would spring up, whose rage would be directed against him who should be daring enough to plough the field; and as a conclusion to his arduous tasks, he was to kill a frightful dragon which remained ever on the watch at the tree where the golden fleece was suspended. all were in fear for the fate of the argonauts, but juno watched over their safety, and extricated them from their difficulties. medea, the king's daughter, fell in love with jason, and in an interview with her lover in the temple of hecate, in which they swore a mutual fidelity, and bound themselves by the most solemn oaths, she pledged herself to deliver her lover from all his dangers. her knowledge of herbs, enchantments and incantations, was uncommon, and he received from her whatever instruments and herbs could protect him against the coming dangers. "she then retires to hecate's shrine, that stood far in the covert of a shady wood: she finds the fury of her flames assauged, but, seeing jason there, again they raged. blushes and paleness did by turns invade her tender cheeks, and secret grief betrayed; as fire, that sleeping under ashes lies, fresh blown and roused, does up in blazes rise, new kindled by her lover's sparkling eyes, so flamed the virgin's breast. for chance, that day, had with uncommon grace;, adorned the lovely youth, and thro' his face displayed an air so pleasing, as might charm a goddess, and a vestal's bosom warm. her ravished eyes survey him o'er and o'er, as some gay wonder never seen before; transported to the skies she seems to be and thinks she gazes on a deity, { } but when he spoke and pressed her trembling hand, and did with tender words her heart demand, with vows and oaths to make her soon his bride, she wept a flood of tears, and thus replied. 'i see my error, yet to ruin move, nor owe my fate to ignorance, but love: your life i'll guard, and only crave of you to swear once more--and to your oath be true.' he swears by hecate, he would all fulfil, and by her grandfather's prophetic skill by everything that doubting love could press, his present danger and desired success. she credits him, and kindly does produce enchanted herbs, and teaches him their use, their mystic names, and virtues he admires. and with his booty joyfully retires." ovid. he made his appearance in the field of mars, he tamed the fury of the oxen, he ploughed the earth, and he sowed the teeth of the dragon. immediately a band of armed men arose and rushed towards jason: nothing daunted, the hero threw a stone amongst them, and they fell one upon the other till they were entirely destroyed. he lulled to sleep the watchfulness of the dragon, by the power of herbs, and grasped in triumph the golden fleece which was the the object of his expedition. "impatient for the wonders of the day, aurora drives the loitering stars away. now mars's mount the pressing people fill, the crowd below, the nobles crown the hill: the king himself, high throned above the rest, with ivory sceptre, and in purple drest. forthwith the brass hoofed bulls are set at large, whose furious nostrils sulphurous flames discharge, the blasted herbage by their breath expires, as forges rumble with excessive fires, and furnaces with fiercer fury glow, when water in the panting mass ye throw, with such a noise from their convulsive breast, through bellowing throats the struggling vapour pressed. yet jason marches up without concern, while on the adventurous youth the monsters turn their glaring eyes, and eager to engage, brandish their steel-tipt horns in threatening rage: with brazen hoofs they beat the ground, and choke the ambient air, with clouds of dust and smoke. each gazing grecian for his champion shakes, while bold advances he securely makes through singeing blasts: such wonders magic art can work, when love conspires and plays his part. the passive savages like statues stand, while he their dewlap strokes with soothing hand; { } to unknown yokes their brawny necks they yield, and like tame oxen, plough the wondering field. the colchians state, the grecians shout, and raise their champion's courage with inspiring praise. emboldened now, in fresh attempts he goes, with serpent's teeth the fertile furrows sows; the glebe, fermenting with enchanted juice, makes the snakes' teeth a human crop produce, and from the labouring earth, no single birth but a whole troop of lusty youths rush forth, and what's more strange, with martial fury warmed, and for encounter all completely armed; in rank and file, as they were sowed, they stand impatient for the signal of command, no foe, but the �monian youth appears, as there they level their steep pointed spears. wonders ensue, among his gazing foes the fragment of a massy rock he throws, this charm in civil war engaged them all, by mutual wounds these earth-born brothers fall. one labour more remains, and, though the last, in danger far surmounting all the past; that enterprize by fate in store was kept to make the dragon sleep, that never slept, whose crest shoots dreadful lustre; from his jaws a triple tier of forked stings he draws, with fangs and wings of a prodigious size; such was the guardian of the golden prize. yet him besprinkled with lethean dew the fair enchantress into slumber threw; while the soft guest his drowsy eyelids seals, th' unguarded golden fleece the stranger steals; proud to possess the purchase of his toil, proud of his royal bride, the richer spoil, to sea both prize and patroness he bore, and lands triumphant on his native shore." ovid. all these deeds being performed in the presence of the monarch and his subjects, they were struck with surprise at the boldness and success of the young hero, who immediately embarked for europe with medea, the great instrument of his preservation. enraged at the desertion of his daughter, oeetes sent his son absyrtus to bring back the fugitives. absyrtus overtook them, but was slain by medea, who scattered his limbs upon the path of his father, trusting that oeetes' paternal affection, would make him anxious to render due homage to the remains of his son, and prevent him from following with success. on the return of the expedition to thessaly, they were received with unusual festivity; but oeson, jason's father was unable to be there, owing to the infirmities of age, and medea at her husband's desire, restored him to all the power and vigour of youth. [illustration: jason and medea.] { } with looks averted backward they advance, who strike and stab, and leave the blows to chance waking in consternation, he essays, weltering in blood, his feeble arms to raise; environed by so many swords; 'from whence this barbarous usage? what is my offence? what fatal fury, what infernal charm, 'gainst a kind father does his daughter arm?' hearing his voice, as thunderstruck they stopped their resolution, and their weapons dropped: medea then the mortal blow bestows." the subjects of the deceased king, when they were informed of the cause of his death, were anxious to avenge it, and medea found herself compelled to fly with jason to corinth, in which place they resided forty years. unhappily their matrimonial happiness was disturbed by jason's infidelity with glaucus, the daughter of the king of the country, for whom medea was divorced, that he might follow his amour in comfort. this infidelity was severely avenged by medea, who after destroying the children of glaucus in her presence, presented to her a poisoned gown, and induced her to put it on; it immediately set her whole body on fire, and she died in the most painful torments. this deed was followed by one still more revolting to the mind, for medea slew two of her own children in their father's presence, and when the incensed jason attempted to avenge their murder on the barbarous mother, she escaped by flying through the air in a chariot drawn by dragons. "when medea left her native soil, unawed by danger, unsubdued by toil: her weeping sire, and beckoning friends withstood, and launched enamoured in the boiling flood; one ruddy boy her gentle lips caressed, and one fair girl was pillowed on her breast; while high in air the golden treasure burns, and love and glory guide the prow by turns. but when thessalia's inauspicious plain, received the matron-heroine from the main; while hours of triumph sound, and altars burn. and shouting nations hail their queen's return: aghast, she saw new-decked the nuptial bed, and proud creusa to the temple led; saw her in jason's mercenary arms. deride her virtues and insult her charms: saw her dear babes from fame and empire torn, in foreign realms deserted and forlorn: her love rejected, and her vengeance braved by him, her beauties won, her virtues saved. { } to the stern king of ghosts she next applied. and gentle proserpine, his ravished bride, that for old �son with the laws of fate; they would dispense, and lengthen his short date. thus with repeated prayers she oft assails, the infernal tyrant, and at last prevails; then calls to have decrepid �son brought, and stupifies him with a sleeping draught; this done, th' enchantress, with her locks unbound about her altar trips a frantic round; piecemeal the consecrated wood she splits, and dips the splinters in the gory pits, then hurls them on the piles; the sleeping sire she lustrates thrice, with sulphur, water, fire. * * * * * * his feeble frame resumes a youthful air, a glossy brown his hoary head of hair, the meagre paleness from his aspect fled, and in its room sprung up a florid red: through all his limbs a youthful vigour flies, his emptied arteries swell with fresh supplies. gazing spectators scarce believe their eyes. but �son is the most surprised to find a happy change in body and in mind, in sense and constitution the same man, as when his fortieth active year began." ovid. pelias the usurper, was desirous of following so pleasant an example, and his daughters persuaded by medea, who was anxious to avenge her husband's wrongs, destroyed him with their own hands. their credulity met with a severe punishment, for medea refused to restore him to life. meanwhile pelias with his guards lay bound in magic sleep, scarce that of death so sound: the daughters now are by the sorceress led, into his chamber and surround his bed, 'your fathers health's concerned and can ye stay? unnatural nymphs, why this unkind delay? unsheath your swords, dismiss his lifeless blood, and i'll recruit it with a vital flood: your father's life and health are in your hand, and can ye thus, like idle gazers stand? unless you are of common sense bereft, if yet one spark of piety is left, dispatch a father's cure, and disengage the monarch from his loathsome load of age. thus urged, the poor deluded maids proceed betrayed by zeal to an inhuman deed, and in compassion, make a father bleed. yes, she who has the kindest, tenderest heart, is foremost to perform the bloody part. yet, though to act the butchery betrayed, they could not bear to see the wounds they made, { } with stern regard she eyed the traitor king, and felt ingratitude, the keenest sting; "nor heaven" she cried, "nor earth, nor hell can hold a heart abandoned to the thirst of gold! stamped with wild foot and shook her torrent brow, and called the furies from their dens below!" ovid. when in athens, to which place medea came after leaving corinth, she underwent the penance necessary to purify her from the crimes she had committed, after which she became the wife of king �geus, to whom she bore a son called medus. before his intimacy with medea, �geus had a son named theseus, who had been sent to athens with his father's sword, by the sight of which he was to introduce himself to his father's knowledge when he grew up; as theseus attempted to make himself known to his father, medea, who had grown jealous of the glory he had achieved, tried to poison him at an entertainment to which he had been invited. she failed in her purpose. the king, recognized by the sword he bore, his long lost son, and medea had recourse to her dragons once more, to make her escape through the air, to colchis, where, by some it is stated, she was re-united to jason; while according to other authorities, jason lived a melancholy and unhappy life; and, as he was reposing one day by the side of the ship which had borne him to colchis, a large beam fell upon and crushed him to death. medea also died at colchis, and after her death is said to have been married to achilles in elysium. it is asserted by some writers, that the murder of the two youngest of jason's children, was not committed by medea, but by the corinthians themselves, in the temple of juno acrea; and that to avoid the vengeance of heaven, and to free themselves from a plague which devoured the country after so frightful a massacre, they engaged the poet euripides to write a tragedy which should tend to clear them of the murder, and throw the crime upon the guilty medea. festivals were also appointed, in which the mother was represented as destroying her own offspring, with all the attributes of a fury, and was regarded as a day of solemn mourning. "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy foul infanticide where peace and mercy dwell for evermore? { } the land where heaven's own hallowed waters play, where friendship binds the generous and the good, say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way, unholy woman! with thy hands embrued. in thine own children's gore? oh! ere they bleed, let nature's voice thy ruthless heart appal! pause at the bold, irrevocable deed-- the mother strikes--the guiltless babes shall fall! * * * * * * when o'er each babe you look a last adieu, and gaze on innocence that smiles asleep, shall no fond feeling beat to nature true, charm thee to pensive thought--and bid thee weep? when the young suppliants clasp their parent dear, heave the deep sob, and pour the artless prayer, ay! thou shalt melt; and many a heart-shed tear gush o'er the hardened features of despair! nature shall throb in every tender string,-- thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny; thy horror smitten hands afar shall fling the blade, undrenched in blood's eternal dye. chorus. hallowed earth! with indignation mark, oh mark, the murderous deed. radiant eye of wide creation, watch th' accursed infanticide! yet, ere colchia's rugged daughter perpetrate the dire design, and consign to kindred slaughter children of the golden line! shall mortal hand, with murder gory, cause immortal blood to flow! sun of heaven!--array'd in glory rise, forbid, avert the blow! in the vales of placid gladness let no rueful maniac range; chase afar the fiend of madness, wrest the dagger from revenge! say, hast thou, with kind protection, reared thy smiling race in vain; fostering nature's fond affection, tender cares, and pleasing pain? hast thou, on the troubled ocean, braved the tempest loud and strong, where the waves, in wild commotion, roar cyanean rocks among? didst thou roam the paths of danger, hymenean joys to prove? spare, o sanguinary stranger, pledges of thy sacred love! ask not heaven's commiseration, after thou hast done the deed; mercy, pardon, expiation, perish when thy victims bleed" euripides. * * * * * { } hercules. this celebrated hero was, after his death, as a reward for the many courageous deeds he had performed, placed among the gods, and rewarded with divine honours. it has been asserted that there were many of the same name, some writers extending the number to forty-three; though of these the son of jupiter and alcmena is the most celebrated, and as such, doubtless, many of their actions have been attributed to him. in order to gain the affections of alcmena, jupiter took the form of her husband, and from this union was born hercules, who was brought up at tirynthus; juno, however, could not look upon him with pleasure, and before he was nine months old, sent two snakes intending them to devour him. far from fearing these terrible enemies, the child grasped them boldly in both his hands, and strangled them, while his brother iphielus shrieked aloud in terror. he was early instructed in those arts in which he afterwards became so famous, for castor taught him to fight, eurytus to shoot with the bow and arrows, and autolycus to drive a chariot; after this, he perfected himself under the tuition of the centaur, chiron. when in the eighteenth year of his age, a huge lion devastated the people, and preyed on the flocks of amphitryon, laying waste also the adjacent country. from this monster hercules relieved them, and when erginus, king of orchomedas, sent for his yearly tribute of one hundred crowns, hercules mutilated the servants who came to raise it, and on erginus coming to avenge their death, he slew him, and delivered his country from the inglorious tribute. these heroic deeds soon became bruited abroad, and creon, who reigned in thebes, rewarded his courage by giving him his daughter in marriage, and entrusting him with the government of his people. as hercules was by the will of jupiter, subjected to the power of eurystheus, the latter, jealous of the fame he was achieving, ordered him to appear before him. proud of his strength and of his successes, the hero refused, and juno to punish him, struck him with a sudden madness, in which he killed his own offspring, imagining them to be those of eurystheus. { } _hercules._ "hast thou beheld the carnage of my sons? _theseus._ i heard, i saw the ills thou showest me. _hercules._ why hast thou then unveiled me to the sun? _theseus._ why not? can mortal man pollute the gods? _hercules._ fly, thou unhappy, my polluting guilt! _theseus._ friends, from their friends, no stain of guilt contract. _hercules._ this hath my thanks, indeed, i thought thee good. _theseus._ and for that good deed, now i pity thee! _hercules._ i want thy pity, i have slain my sons. _theseus._ thee, for thy grace, in other ills i mourn! _hercules._ whom hast thou known involved in ills like these? _theseus._ thy vast misfortunes reach from earth to heaven. _hercules._ i therefore am prepared, and fixed to die. _theseus._ and deemest thou the gods regard thy threats? _hercules._ the gods regard not me, nor i the gods! _theseus._ forbear: lest thy proud words provoke worse ill. _hercules._ i now am full, and can contain no more. _theseus._ what dost thou? whither doth thy rage transport thee? _hercules._ from whence i came, to death's dark realms i go. _theseus._ this is the language of a vulgar spirit. _hercules._ thou from misfortune free, canst counsel me; _theseus._ doth the much suffering hercules say this? _hercules._ he had not suffered this, had ills a mean. _theseus._ the brave protector, the kind friend of men. _hercules._ they nought avail me. _theseus._ greece will not suffer thee to die thus rashly. _hercules._ now hear me whilst my arguments refute all thy monitions. whilst i yet hung on the breast, two hideous serpents came, sent by juno to destroy me, rolled their spires within my cradle. when my age advanced to youth's fresh bloom, why should i say what toils i then sustained? what lions--what dire forms of triple typhons, or what giants, what of monsters banded in the centaur war, did i not quell? the hydra, raged around, with heads still spouting from the sword i slew. these and a thousand other toils endured, to the dark regions of the dead i went, to drag the triple headed dog to light, that guards the gate of pluto;--the command of stern eurystheus. this last bloody deed, (wretch that i am!) the murder of my sons have i achieved, to crown my house with ills. i am reduced to this unhappiness, at my loved thebes i cannot dwell, for here what temple, what assembly of my friends can i approach? pollutions rank as mine, allow no converse. should i go to argos? how, since i fly my country, should i seek refuge in other states, malignant eyes would scowl on me when known, and bitter tongues goad me with these reproaches:--is not this the son of jove, who slew his sons and wife? then bid me thence with curses on my head. { } and to the man, whose former days were passed in happier fortune, mournful is the change; but him, that in distresses hath been trained, naught grieves, as though lie were allied to ills. and to this misery shall i come, i ween. the earth will cry aloud, forbidding me to touch her soil, to pass its waves, the sea, and every fountain whence the rivers flow. thus like ixions, on the whirling wheel in chains, will be my stake: and this were best, that never grecian might behold me more, with whom in better days i have been happy. why therefore should i live? what blessing were it to gain a useless and unhallowed life?" after his recovery he consulted the oracle of apollo, and was told that he must act in compliance with the will of jupiter, and be subservient to the commands of eurystheus for twelve years, and that after he had been successful in the labours to be imposed upon him, he would be admitted amongst the gods. this answer determined him to bear with fortitude whatever gods or men might command, and eurystheus, seeing so perfect a hero subjected to him, ordered him to perform the most terrible and dangerous deeds he could imagine, which are now generally known as the twelve labours of hercules. the favors of the gods had completely armed him when he undertook his labours. he had received a coat of arms and helmet from minerva, a sword from mercury, a horse from apollo, and from vulcan a golden cuirass and brazen buskin, with a celebrated club of brass, according to the opinion of some writers, but more generally supposed to be of wood, and cut by the hero himself in the forest of nemæa. the first labour imposed upon hercules by eurystheus, was to kill the lion of nemæa, which ravaged the country near mycenæ. the hero, unable to destroy him with his arrow, boldly attacked him with his club, pursued him to his den, and after a close and sharp engagement, he choked him to death. he carried the dead beast on his shoulders to mycenæ, and ever after clothed himself with the skin. eurystheus was so astonished at the sight of the beast, and at the courage of hercules, that he ordered him never to enter the gates of the city when he returned from his expeditions, but to wait for his orders without the walls. he even made himself a hiding place into which he retired whenever hercules returned. the second labour of hercules was to destroy the lernæan hydra, which had seven heads. this celebrated { } monster he attacked with his arrows, and soon after he came to a close engagement, and by means of his heavy club, destroyed the heads of his enemy. but this was productive of no advantage, for as soon as one head was beaten to pieces by the club, immediately two sprang up, and the labour of hercules would have remained unfinished, had he not commanded his friend iolas, who accompanied him, to burn, with a hot iron, the root of the head which he had crushed to pieces. this succeeded, and hercules became victorious, opened the belly of the monster, and dipped his arrow in the gall, to render the wounds which he gave, fatal and incurable. he was ordered in his third labour to bring alive and unhurt, into the presence of eurystheus, a stag, famous for its incredible swiftness, its golden horns, and brazen feet. this celebrated animal frequented the neighbourhood of oenoe, and hercules was employed for a whole year in continually pursuing it; at last, he caught it in a trap, or when tired, or according to others by slightly wounding it, and lessening its swiftness. as he returned victorious, diana snatched the stag from him, and severely reprimanded him for molesting an animal which was sacred to her. hercules pleaded necessity, and by representing the commands of eurystheus, he appeased the goddess and obtained the beast. the [illustration] fourth labour was to bring alive to eurystheus a wild boar which ravaged the neighbourhood of erymanthus. in this expedition he { } destroyed the centaurs, and caught the boar by closely pursuing him through the deep snow. eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of the boar, that, according to diodorus, he hid himself in a brazen vessel for some days. in his fifth labour hercules was ordered to clean the stables of augias, where three thousand oxen had been confined for many years. for the sixth, he was ordered to kill the carnivorous birds which ravaged the country near the lake stymphalis, in arcadia. in his seventh, he brought alive into peloponnesus a prodigious wild bull, which laid waste the island of crete. in his eighth, he was employed in obtaining the mares of diomedes, which fed upon human flesh. he killed diomedes, and gave him to be eaten by his mares, which he brought to eurystheus. they were sent to mount olympus by the king of mycenæ, where they were devoured by the wild beasts; or, according to others, consecrated to jupiter, and their breed still existed in the age of alexander the great. for his ninth labour, he was commanded to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons. in his tenth, he killed the monster geryon, king of gades, and brought to argos his numerous flocks which fed upon human flesh. the eleventh labour was to obtain apples from the garden of hesperides, three celebrated daughters of hesperus, who were appointed to guard some golden apples, given by jupiter to juno on the day of their marriage. ignorant of the precise situation of the beautiful garden containing them, hercules applied to the nymphs in the neighbourhood of the po for information, and was told that nereus, if properly managed, would direct him in his pursuits. the hero seized nereus while he slept, and the sea god, unable to escape from his grasp, answered all the questions he proposed, which led him to atlas, in africa, and of him, he demanded three of the golden apples. atlas placed the burden of the heavens on the shoulders of hercules, and went in quest of the apples. at his return, hercules expressed a wish to ease his load by putting something on his head, and when atlas assisted him to remove the inconvenience, he artfully left the burden, and seized the apples which atlas had thrown on the ground. according to other accounts, hercules gathered them without the assistance of atlas, after killing a dragon which guarded the tree. { } the twelfth and last, and most dangerous of his labours, was to bring upon earth the three-headed dog cerberus. this was cheerfully undertaken by hercules, and he descended into hell by a cave on mount tænarus. he was permitted by pluto to carry away his friends theseus and pirithous, who were condemned to punishment in hell; and cerberus also was granted to his prayers, provided he made use of no arms, but only force to drag him away. hercules, as some report, carried him back to hell, after he had brought him before eurystheus. besides these arduous labours, which the jealousy of eurystheus imposed upon him, he also achieved others of his own accord, equally great and celebrated. he delivered hesione, a daughter of laomedon, king of troy, from a sea monster, to whom the trojans yearly presented a marriageable maiden; and when the hero had fulfilled his task, laomedon refused to give him the tribute of six beautiful horses, which he had promised to him. hercules, incensed at his treachery, besieged troy, and put the king and his family to the sword. "first, two dread snakes, at juno's vengeful nod, climbed round the cradle of the sleeping god; waked by the shrilling hiss, and rustling sound, and shrieks of fair attendants trembling round, their gasping throats with clenching hands he holds; till death entwists their convoluted folds. and in red torrents from her seven gold heads fell hydra's blood in lerna's lake he sheds; grasps achelous with resistless force, and drags the roaring river to his course: binds with loud bellowing and with hideous yell the monster bull, and three-fold dog of hell." "then, where nemea's howling forests wave, he drives the lion to his dusky cave; seized by the throat the howling fiend disarms, and tears his gaping jaws with sinewy arms; lifts proud anteus from his mother-plains, and with strong grasp, the struggling giant strains; back falls his fainting head, and clammy hair, writhe his weak limbs, and flits his life in air;-- by steps reverted o'er the blood-dropped fen he tracks huge ceacus to his forest den! where breathing flames through brazen lips, he fled, and shakes the rock-roofed cavern o'er his head! last, with wide arms the solid earth he tears, piles rock on rock, on mountain, mountain rears; heaves up huge abyla in afric's sand, crowns with huge calpe europe's salient strand, crests with opposing towers the splendid scene, and pours from urns immense, the sea between. loud o'er her whirling flood charybdis roars affrighted scylla bellows round her shores, vesuvius groans through all his echoing caves, and etna thunders o'er the insurgent waves." [illustration: hercules delivering hesione.] { } when these were performed, he became deeply enamoured of iole, daughter of eurystheus, but she, being refused to his entreaties, he became insane a second time, and murdered iphitus, the only one of the sisters of iole who was willing to assist him in obtaining her. after some time had passed, he was purified from this murder, and his insanity was at an end. however, the gods were not satisfied, but persecuted him still further, for he was smitten with an indisposition which compelled him once more to consult the oracle of delphi. not being pleased with the manner in which his application was received, he resolved, in the heat of passion, to desecrate the sacred temple by plundering it, and carrying away the holy tripod. apollo opposed him, and a fierce conflict ensued, to put an end to which, however, jupiter interfered with his thunderbolts. indignant at the insult offered to the sacred edifice, the oracle declared that it could only be wiped away by the hero becoming a slave, and remaining in the most abject servitude for three years. in compliance with the decree, mercury, by the order of jupiter, sold him to omphale, queen of lydia, as a slave. but his services to this queen so astonished her, that she freed him from his servitude and married him. when the term for which he had been sold expired, hercules left her, and returned to peloponnessus, where he re-established tyndaris on the throne of sparta. after this, he became one of the numerous suitors of dejanira, who had been promised by her father in marriage to that one who should prove the strongest of all his competitors. the most dangerous foe to hercules was achelous, a river god, who, finding himself inferior in strength, changed himself into a serpent, and afterwards into an ox. serpent strangling was, however, nothing new to hercules, and he had but little trouble with his enemy as an ox, until at last achelous retired in disgrace to his bed of waters. after his marriage with dejanira, he was compelled to leave his father-in-law's kingdom, from having accidentally slain one of the citizens. { } on his way to ceyx, accompanied by dejanira, he was stopped by a swollen stream, and nessus, the centaur, offered to convey her safely on his back to the opposite side of the river. as the hero's only anxiety was for her, he accepted the offer with thanks, and when he saw them through the worst part of the water in safety, prepared to follow, but no sooner had the centaur landed with dejanira, than he attempted to offer violence to his beautiful burthen, and to carry her away in the very sight of her husband. the extraordinary efforts of the enraged hercules, brought him up in time to let fly a poisoned arrow at the ravisher, which mortally wounded him. in his anguish, and burning for vengeance on his slayer, he gave dejanira his tunic, which was covered with his blood. [illustration] "take this," he said, feigning a repentance, "if ever your husband prove unfaithful, it will recall him to your arms;" and with this he expired. [illustration: the death of nessus.] { } "for now his bridal charge employed his cares. the strong limbed nessus thus officious cried, for he the shallows of the stream had tried, 'swim thou, alcides, all thy strength prepare, on yonder bank i'll lodge thy nuptial care.' th' aonian chief to nessus trusts his wife. all pale, and trembling for her hero's life: clothed as he stood in the fierce lion's hide, the laden quiver o'er his shoulder tied. far cross the stream his bow and club were cast, swift he plunged in, 'these billows shall be past,' he said, nor sought where smoother waters glide but stemmed the rapid dangers of the tide. the bank he reached, again the bow he bears, when, hark! his bride's known voice alarms his ears, 'nessus, to thee i call,' aloud he cries,-- 'vain is thy trust in flight, be timely wise; thou monster double shaped, my right set free, if thou no reverence owe my fame and me, yet kindred should thy lawless lust deny, think not perfidious wretch, from me to fly; tho' winged with horse's speed, wounds shall pursue,' swift as his words the fatal arrow flew, the centaur's back admits the feathered wood, and thro' his breast the barbed arrow stood, which when in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore from both the wounds gushed forth the spumy gore, mixed with the lernæan venom, this he took, nor dire revenge his dying breast forsook, his garment, in the reeking purple dyed to rouse love's passion, he presents the bride." ovid. ceyx received them both with great favour, but hercules could not forget that he had been refused the hand of iole, although in possession of the heart of dejanira, and therefore made war against her father, killing him, with three of his sons, while his former lover, iole, fell into his hands, and found that she still held no slight possession of his affections. she accompanied him to oeta, where he was going to raise an altar, and offer a sacrifice to jupiter. dejanira, aware of his purpose, and of the affection he had manifested for her rival, sent to him the tunic given her by the centaur, nessus, but no sooner had he put it on, than the poison with which it was saturated, penetrated through his bones, and attaching itself to the flesh, eat into it like fire. "she now resolves to send the fatal vest, dyed with lernæan gore, whose power might move his soul anew, and rouse declining love, nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows, when she to lychas trusts her future woes; with soft endearment she the boy commands, to bear the garment to her husband's hands. th' unwilling hero takes the gift in haste, and o'er his shoulders lerna's poison cast, at first the fire with frankincense he strews, and utters to the gods his holy vows; and on the marble altar's polished frame pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame sudden dissolves the subtle poisoning juice which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews. { } with wonted fortitude he bore the smart, and not a groan confessed his burning heart, at length his patience was subdued by pain oetes wide forests echo with his cries; now to rip off the deathful robe he tries. where'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears the mangled muscles and huge bones he bares. (a ghastly sight!) or raging with his pain, to rend the sick'ning plague, he tugs in vain. as the red iron hisses in the flood, so boils the venom in his curdling blood. now with the greedy flame his entrails glow, and livid sweats down all his body flow. the cracking nerves, burnt up, are burst in twain, the lurking venom melts his swimming brain." ovid. when lychas, by the command of dejanira, had brought the fatal scarf, and hercules became aware of its dreadful power, he seized the messenger, and hurled him into the sea with fearful violence. [illustration] in vain did he attempt to pull it off, he only tore with it masses of flesh. in the midst of his miserable tortures, his groans of anguish were mixed with imprecations on the credulity of dejanira, and the jealousy and hatred of juno, to whom he attributed all his pains. "then lifting both his hands aloft, he cries, 'glut thy revenge, dread empress of the skies; sate with my death the rancour of thy heart, look down with pleasure and enjoy my smart; or, if e'er pity moved a hostile breast for here i stand thy enemy profest;' { } meanwhile, whate'er was in the power of flame, was all consumed; his body's nervous frame no more was known; of human form bereft-- the eternal part of jove alone was left. as an old serpent casts his scaly vest, wreathes in the sun, in youthful glory drest; so, when alcides' mortal mould resigned, his better part enlarged, and grew refined: august his visage shone; almighty jove, in his swift car his honoured offspring drove: high o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly, and lodge the hero in the starry sky." ovid. if his fame had been universal, his worship soon became equally so, and juno, once so inveterate, consented to his receiving her daughter hebe in marriage. hercules is generally represented as gigantically proportioned, sometimes naked, sometimes covered with the skin of the nemean lion; a thick and knotted club in his hands, on which he is often seen leaning. such are the most important parts of the life of hercules, who is held out by the ancients as a complete pattern of virtue and piety, and is asserted by them to have been employed for the benefit of mankind, and for this was deservedly rewarded with immortality. "o worthy end of his laborious life, the nectared cup, and hebe for a wife! her golden youth did with new transports play, and crowned his toils in empyrean day. yet did he oft, though in her arms he lay, and tasted to the height immortal youth, sigh for young iole, who, soft as may, and rich as summer, yielded up her truth; there by euripus, ever fickle stream, he won a world in her immortal arms, and found his prized honour but a dream lost in the ocean of her gentle charms." thurlow. he has received many surnames and epithets, either from the place where his worship was established, or from the labours which he had achieved; his temples were numerous and magnificent. the phoenicians offered quails on his altars, and as it was supposed that he presided over dreams, the sick and infirm were sent to sleep in his temples, that they might receive in their visions the agreeable presages of their approaching recovery. the children of hercules are as numerous as the labours and difficulties which he underwent, and became so powerful after his death, that they alone had the bravery to invade the peloponnessus. { } "'take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn, inured to trouble, and to labours born. death is the gift most welcome to my woe, and such a gift a stepdame may bestow. was it for this busiris was subdued, whose barbarous temples reeked with stranger's blood? pressed in these arms his fate antæus found, nor gained recruited vigour from the ground. did i not triple-formed geryon fell? or, did i fear the triple dog of hell? did not these hands the bull's armed forehead hold? are not our mighty toils in elis told? did not stymphalian lakes proclaim my fame? and fair parthenian woods resound my name? who seized the golden belt of thermodon? and who the dragon-guarded apples won? could the fair centaur's strength my force withstand? or the fell boar that spoiled the arcadian land? did not these arms the hydra's rage subdue, who from his wounds to double fury grew. what if the thracian horses, fat with gore, who human bodies in their manger tore, i saw, and with their barbarous lord, o'erthrew? what if these hands nemæa's lion slew? did not this neck the heavenly globe sustain? the female partner of the thunderer's reign, fatigued at length, suspends her harsh commands, yet no fatigue has slacked these valiant hands; but now, new plagues consume me; neither force, nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course, devouring flame through my racked entrails strays, and on my lungs and shrivelled muscles preys.'" ovid. as, however, the distemper was incurable, and death inevitable, he determined to die the hero he had lived, and giving his bow and arrow to philoctetes, he erected a funeral pile on mount oeta, and spreading upon it his lion's skin, lay down with dignity and composure, his head placed upon his club, to await his death. the pile was lighted, and the flames arose in volumes, but the hero gazed calmly upon them, unalarmed at his impending doom. his mind was resolved to meet his fate, when, suddenly, the burning pile was surrounded with dark smoke, the fire burned like a furnace, and when it had consumed the mortal portion of hercules, a chariot and horses was seen awaiting, which carried his immortal part to heaven, there to be seated amongst the gods. loud claps of thunder accompanied his exaltation, and when his friends sought his ashes to grant them burial, unable to find them, they erected an altar to his memory, upon the spot where the burning pile had been. * * * * * { } perseus. this hero was the son of jupiter and danae, the daughter of acresius. as the latter had confined his daughter in a brazen tower, to prevent her becoming a mother, because, according to the words of an oracle, he was to perish by the hands of his daughter's son, perseus was no sooner born, than acresius caused him to be thrown into the sea, with his mother, danae. the hopes of the father were frustrated; for the slight bark which carried danae and her son, was driven on the island of seriphos, one of the cyclades, where they were found by a fisherman named dictys, and carried by him to polydectes, the monarch of the place, by whom they were received with much kindness, and the priests of minerva's temple had the charge of the youthful perseus entrusted to them. his rising genius and great courage fell under the displeasure of polydectes, who feared, lest the love with which he soon became inspired towards danae, and the intentions which he harboured towards her, should meet with the resentment of her son. the monarch, however, resolved to remove every obstacle out of his way, and made a sumptuous banquet, decreeing that all who came should present him with a beautiful horse. to this feast perseus was invited, polydectes being aware that he would not be able to procure the present which the wealth of the remaining guests could enable them to offer. to a high spirited man this was unbearable, and unable to submit to the position of being the only one who had brought no present, and unwilling to appear inferior to the remainder of the guests in splendour, he told polydectes, that though he was unable to give him a horse, he would bring him the head of one of the gorgons, and medusa being the only one subject to mortality, she must be the victim. for more than one reason this was very agreeable to polydectes, in the first place, as it would remove perseus from the island, and the next that, from its seeming impossibility, the attempt might end in his ruin. the gods, however, are the protectors of innocence, and that of perseus was made their peculiar care. pluto lent him his helmet, possessing the wonderful power of making the bearer invisible. the buckler of minerva, as resplendent as glass, was given him by { } that goddess. mercury gave him wings and the calaria, with a short dagger formed of diamonds. with this assistance perseus boldly commenced his expedition, traversing the air, conducted by minerva. he went first to the graces, the sisters of the gorgons, who possessed but one eye and one tooth among the three; with the assistance of pluto's helmet, which rendered him invisible, perseus was able to steal their eye and their tooth while sleeping, and refused to return them until they had informed him where their sisters, the gorgons resided. when the necessary information had been received, perseus sought the habitation of the gorgons, whom he fortunately found asleep. knowing that if he fixed his eyes upon them, he would be changed to stone, he used his shield, which was transparent, as a mirror to reflect the object he sought to destroy. keeping his eyes thus fixed upon them, he approached, minerva supporting his courage, and with one blow of his sword, cut off medusa's head. the noise of the blow awoke the two remaining sisters, who frantic with rage, looked around for the murderer of their sister, but in vain, for he had already put on the invisible helmet of pluto, and the attempts of the gorgons to avenge the death of the sister were fruitless. the conqueror pursued his way through the air, and from the blood which dropped from the head of the slain gorgon he carried with him, arose the innumerable serpents which have for ages infested the sandy deserts of lybia. "where western waves on furthest lybia beat, dreadful medusa fixed her horrid seat. 'twas from this monster, to afflict mankind, that nature first produced the snaky kind: on her at first their forky tongues appeared, from her their dreadful hissings first were heard." ovid chrysaor, who married callirhoe, one of the oceanides, sprung with his golden sword from those drops of blood, as well as the winged pegasus, which flew directly through the air, and stopping on the mount bearing the same name, became a favorite with the muses. in the meantime young perseus pursued his flight through the air, across the deserts of lybia. the approach of night compelled him to seek a brief shelter with atlas, monarch of mauritania. { } "the victor perseus, with the gorgon head, o'er lybian sands his airy journey sped. the gory drops distilled as swift he flew, and from each drop envenomed serpents grew. the mischiefs brooded on the barren plains, and still the unhappy fruitfulness remains. thence perseus, like a cloud, by storms was driv'n, thro' all the expanse beneath the cope of heaven. the jarring winds unable to control, he saw the southern and the northern pole: and eastward thrice, and westward thrice was whirled, and from the skies surveyed the nether world. but when grey ev'ning showed the verge of night, he feared in darkness to pursue his flight. he poised his pinions, and forgot to soar, and sinking, closed them on th' hesperian shore: then begged to rest, till lucifer begun to wake the morn, the morn to wake the sun. here atlas reigned of more than human size, and in his kingdom the world's limit lies. here titan bids his wearied coursers sleep, and cools the burning axle in the deep. the mighty monarch, uncontrolled, alone, his sceptre sways; no neighb'ring states are known. a thousand flocks on shady mountains fed, a thousand herds o'er grassy plains were spread: her wondrous trees their shining stores unfold, their shining stores too wondrous to be told; their leaves, their branches, and their apples, gold. then perseus the gigantic prince addressed, humbly implored a hospitable rest: if bold exploits thy admiration fire, (he said), i fancy, mine thou wilt admire: or if the glory of a race can move, not mean my glory, for i spring from jove." ovid. he went to his palace, expecting to meet with an hospitable reception from atlas, by announcing himself the son of jupiter, but he found himself grievously deceived. it occurred to the recollection of atlas, that an ancient tradition had announced that his gardens were to be plundered of their fruits by one of the sons of the king of heaven; and not only did he rudely refuse to shelter him, but offered violence to his person, and attempted to slay him. finding himself unable to contend with so powerful a foe, perseus was obliged to have recourse to the head of medusa, and atlas was instantly changed into a large mountain, which bore the same name in the deserts of africa. "at this confession atlas ghastly stared, mindful of what an oracle declared, that the dark womb of time concealed a day, which should, disclosed, the gloomy gold betray: { } all should at once be ravished from his eyes, and jove's own progeny enjoy the prize. for this, the fruit he loftily immured, and a fierce dragon the strait pass secured; for this, all strangers he forbade to land, and drove them from the inhospitable strand, to perseus then: 'fly quickly, fly this coast, nor falsely dare thy acts and race to boast.' in vain the hero for one night entreats; threat'ning he storms, and next adds force to threats. by strength not perseus could himself defend, for who in strength with atlas could contend?-- 'but since short rest to me thou wilt not give, a gift of endless rest from me receive.--' he said, and backward turned, no more concealed the present, and medusa's head reveal'd. soon the high atlas a high mountain stood; his locks, and beard, became a leafy wood: his hands and shoulders into ridges went, the summit head still crowned the deep ascent: his bones a solid, rocky hardness gained: he thus immensely grown (as fate ordained), the stars, the heavens, and all the gods sustained. [illustration] as perseus pursued his journey, after inflicting this just punishment upon his foe, across the territories of lybia, he discovered on the coast of ethiopia, the beautiful andromeda, exposed to the fury of a sea-monster, which for some time had ravaged the country, and to appease which, the oracle of jupiter ammon had declared, { } nothing could avail, excepting the exposure of the maiden to its anger. at this moment, when the monster was going to destroy her, perseus saw, and was captivated with her beauty. [illustration] he offered cepheus, her father, his aid in delivering her from danger, provided he would give the maiden to him in marriage, as a reward for his exertions. "chained to a rock she stood; young perseus stayed his rapid flight, to view the beauteous maid. so sweet her form, so exquisitely fine, she seemed a statue by a hand divine, had not the wind her waving tresses shewed and down her cheeks the melting sorrows flowed. her faultless form the hero's bosom fires, the more he looks, the more he still admires. th' admirer almost had forgot to fly, and swift descended, fluttering, from on high." ovid. this princess had been promised in marriage to phineus, her uncle, when neptune sent a sea-monster to ravage the country, because cassiope, her mother, had boasted herself fairer than juno and the nereides. "in me the son of thundering jove behold, got in a kindly shower of fruitful gold, medusa's snaky head is now my prey, and through the clouds i boldly wing my way. { } if such desert be worthy of esteem, and, if your daughter i from death redeem. shall she be mine? shall it not then be thought, a bride, so lovely, was too cheaply bought? for her, my arms, i willingly employ, if i may beauties, which i save, enjoy." ovid. cepheus consented to bestow his daughter upon perseus, and immediately the hero raised himself in the air, flew towards the monster, as it advanced to devour andromeda, and plunging his dagger in his right shoulder, destroyed it. this happy event was attended with great rejoicings, and the nuptials of andromeda with perseus, soon followed. the universal joy, was, however, quickly interrupted: for phineus, dissatisfied with thus losing his promised bride, entered the palace with a number of armed men, and attempted to carry her off. in vain did the father and mother of andromeda interfere. "chief in the riot, phineus first appeared, the rash ringleader of this boisterous herd, and brandishing his brazen pointed lance, 'behold,' he said, 'an injured man advance,' stung with resentment for his ravished wife, nor shall thy wings o perseus, save thy life; nor jove himself, tho' we've been often told he got thee in the form of tempting gold. his lance was aimed, when cepheus ran and said; 'hold, brother, hold, what brutal rage has made your frantic mind so black a crime conceive? are these the thanks that you to perseus give? this the reward that to his worth you pay, whose timely valour saved andromeda? nor was it he, if you would reason right, that forced her from you, but the jealous spite of envious nereids, and jove's high degree, and that devouring monster of the sea, that, ready with his jaws wide gaping stood, to eat my child, the fairest of my blood. you lost her then when she seemed past relief, and wish'd, perhaps, her death, to ease your grief with my afflictions; not content to view andromeda in chains, unhelped by you, her spouse and uncle, will you grieve that he exposed his life, the dying maid to free? and shall you claim his merit? had you thought her charms so great, you should have bravely sought, that blessing on the rocks where fixed she lay; but now let perseus bear his prize away. by service gained, by promised faith possessed; to him i owe it, that my age is blest still with a child: nor think that i prefer perseus to thee, but to the loss of her." ovid. { } a fierce contest ensued, and perseus must have fallen a victim to the fury of phineus, had he not employed the same arms which had proved so successful against atlas. "fierce phineus now repents the wrongful fight, and views his varied friends, a dreadful sight; he knows their faces, for their help he sues, and thinks, not hearing him, that they refuse, by name lie begs their succour, one by one, then doubts their life, and feels the friendly stone. struck with remorse, and conscious of his pride, convict of sin he turn'd his eyes aside; with suppliant mien to perseus thus he prays, 'hence with the head, as far as winds and seas can bear thee: hence; oh! quit the cephan shore and never curse it with medusa more; that horrid head which stiffens into stone, those impious men who daring death, look on: i warred not with thee out of hate or strife, my honest cause was to defend my wife, first pledged to me; what crime could i suppose to arm my friends, and vindicate my spouse? 'twas thine to conquer by minerva's power, favoured of heaven, thy mercy i implore, for life i sue, the rest to thee i yield: in pity from my sight remove the shield!' phineus turned to shun the shield, full in his face the staring head he held, as here and there he strove to turn aside, the wonder wrought, the man was petrified, all marble was his frame, his burned eyes, dropped tears which hung upon the stone like ice; in suppliant posture, with uplifted hands and fearful look, the guilty statue stands." ovid. he but showed the head of the gorgon to his adversaries, and they turned to stone in the very attitudes they were when they first beheld it. the friends of cepheus, however, and those who assisted perseus, were saved from the same fate by a previous warning of perseus. soon after this memorable adventure, perseus went to seriphos, and arrived there at the very moment that his mother danae sought the altar of minerva, to save herself from the violence of polydectes; dictys, who had preserved her and perseus from the sea, had attempted to defend her from her enemy, and perseus therefore sensible of his merit and of his humanity, placed him on the throne of seriphos, after he had employed medusa's head to turn the wicked polydectes { } into stone, with those of his court who were accomplices in his guilt. when these celebrated exploits were finished, perseus felt a desire to return to his native country, and arrived with his mother and andromeda on the peloponnesian coast, as some funeral games were being celebrated in honour of the deceased king of larissa. here he sought to signalise himself in throwing the quoit, but in this he was attended by an evil fate, and had the misfortune to kill a man with a quoit which he had thrown in the air: this proved to be acresius, who thus met the fate the oracle had decreed, and to avoid which, he had been guilty of the barbarous act of throwing his daughter and her son into the sea. this unfortunate murder preyed upon the spirit of perseus, and though by the death of acresius he was entitled to the throne of argos, he refused to accept it, fearing it would constantly remind him of the parricide he had committed; and exchanged his kingdom for the maritime coast of argolis. the time of the death of perseus is unknown, it is universally agreed however, that he received divine honours like the rest of the ancient heroes. [illustration] heroes. heroes are mortals, who, by their glorious achievements, have excited the admiration of their kind, and received the respect due to those immortal spirits, who have distinguished themselves in the service of their country. homer represents a hero as a prince of the ancient time, loved and protected by the gods: while in hesiod, they are the early order of beings who preceded the frail human race. { } theseus. "aye, this is he, a proud and mighty spirit: how fine his form, gigantic! moulded like the race that strove to take jove's heaven by storm, and scare him from olympus. there he sits, a demi-god, stern as when he of yore forsook the maid who, doating saved him from the cretan toil, where he had slain the minotaur. alas! fond ariadne, thee did he desert, and heartless left thee on the naiad's shore to languish. this is he who dared to roam the world infernal, and on pluto's queen, ceres' own lost prosperina, did lay his hand: thence was he prisoned in the vaults beneath, 'till freed by hercules. methinks (so perfect is the phidian stone) his sire, the sea god neptune, hath in anger stopped the current of life, and with his trident touch hath struck him into marble." barry cornwall. [illustration] this hero, one of the most celebrated of antiquity, was the son of �geus, by �thra, daughter of pittheus, though not publicly acknowledged to be the king of athens, being educated at træzene, in the house of pittheus. when he came to maturity, he was sent by his mother to �geus, and a sword which had been hidden beneath a stone until he became of age, and by which he was to { } make himself known to his parent, was shown to him, and ordered to be taken. the usual journey for travellers to his father's court, at athens, was by sea, but theseus determined to signalise himself by encountering the dangers which attended the journey on land, and which consisted in robbers and wild beasts, rendering the road almost impassable: however, these obstacles were all met, and destroyed by his courage. he arrived at athens in safety, where his reception was not so cordial as he hoped, for medea, who resided with �geus, felt that her influence with this monarch would be destroyed, if once theseus gained his proper footing in his father's house, and she tried to poison him before his return was known to the athenians. with a refinement of cruelty, she endeavoured to make �geus give a cup of poison to him, as an unknown stranger at a feast; but the sword at his side saved theseus, for his father recognised it, and introduced him to the people of athens as his son, all of whom gladly hailed the illustrious man, who had cleansed them of robbers and pirates, as the offspring of their monarch. the pallantides, however, who expected to succeed their uncle on his throne, were enraged at the reception of theseus, and attempted to assassinate him; their barbarous intent recoiled upon themselves, for they were all slain by young theseus. the bull of marathon which ravaged the neighbouring country, next engaged his attention, and taking the animal alive, he led it through the streets of athens, previously to sacrificing it on the altar of minerva. at this time, the minotaur was receiving the annual tribute of seven of the noblest youth of athens, and theseus could not fail of being ranked among them, to be devoured by the monster. ------------"the minotaur was fed, with human victims for androgeos dead. the flower of athens were compelled to bleed, for thus the cruel oracle decreed, till theseus; to preserve his country's blood, himself devoted for the public good." ovid. the wish to deliver his native land from this danger, induced him voluntarily to undertake the expedition; and before his departure, he promised his father, if he should be successful, to hoist a white sail on his return. ariadne, the daughter of minos, became enamoured of him and by { } assisting him in the enterprise, he was successful and killed the minotaur. on his return from his victory there, he was driven by contrary winds on the isle of naxos, where he had the meanness to desert ariadne, whose conduct had been the means of his glorious triumph, and to whom he was even indebted for his life. when he came in sight of athens, he forgot, in the height of his success, to hoist the white sail he had promised his father, who, seeing a black sail upon his son's ship, despairingly threw himself into the sea. "on a high rock that beetles o'er the flood, with daily care the pensive father stood; and when he saw impatient from afar? the fatal signal floating in the air, thinking his theseus was untimely slain, he rashly plunged himself beneath the main!" his ascension to his father's throne was received with much pleasure, the country was governed with mildness, new reputation acquired and new laws enacted. the renown he gained by his victory and policy, made his alliance courted in general; but pirithous king of the lapithæ, sought the more singular mode of gaining it by meeting him in fight. he invaded the territories of theseus, and when the latter assembled his forces to meet him, the two foes as they gazed on each other, were seized with a sudden and mutual friendship, and rushed into each others arms: from that time, their affection became proverbial. theseus was present at the nuptials of his friend, and when the brutal centaurs attempted to insult the bride, was one of the most forward to defend: and when pirithous, after this, had lost hippodamia, he agreed with theseus to carry away one of the daughters of the gods. they first attempted their scheme upon helen, the beautiful daughter of leda, and when they had obtained their victim, cast lots for her: theseus was successful, and she became his prize. shortly after, he assisted his friend in his attempt to descend into the infernal regions and carry away proserpine, but cerberus was too watchful, and pluto apprised of their intentions, stopped them: pirithous was placed on ixion's wheel, and theseus secured to a large stone on which he had seated himself to rest. { } by the assistance of hercules, however, in his descent into hell, the two heroes were released from their captivity, and when theseus returned to athens, he found that mnestheus had usurped the crown which should have fallen upon his children. in vain did theseus attempt to eject the usurper, the athenians remained faithful to their new choice, and theseus retired in disgust to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros. here he met with apparent sympathy, but lycomedes soon showed his true character, for enticing his guest to the top of a high mountain, he took an opportunity of throwing theseus over a deep precipice. the children of this hero at the death of the usurper, regained the throne of athens: and that the memory of their father might not be without honour, sent for his remains from scyros, and gave them a magnificent burial. they also raised to him statues and a temple; festivals and games were also instituted in his honour, to commemorate the actions of a hero who had rendered such signal services to the athenian people. _leonarde._ "'tis one of those bright fictions that have made the name of greece only another word, for love and poetry: with a green earth, groves of the graceful myrtle, summer skies, whose stars are mirrored in ten thousand streams, with winds that move in perfume and in music, and more than all, the gift of woman's beauty. what marvel that the earth, the sky, the sea, were filled with all those fine imaginings that love creates, and that the lyre preserves! _alvine._ but for the history of that pale girl who stands so desolate on the sea-shore? _leonarde._ she was the daughter of a cretan king-- a tyrant. hidden in the dark recess of a wide labyrinth, a monster dwelt, and every year was human tribute paid by the athenians. they had bowed in war; and every spring the flowers of all the city, young maids in their first beauty, stately youths, were sacrificed to the fierce king! they died in the unfathomable den of want, or served the minotaur for food. at length there came a royal youth, who vowed to slay the monster or to perish! look, alvine, that statue is young theseus! _alvine._ glorious! how like a god he stands, one haughty hand raised in defiance! i have often looked { } upon the marble, wondering it could give such truth to life and majesty. _leonarde._ you will not marvel ariadne loved. she gave the secret clue that led him safe throughout the labyrinth, and she fled with him. _alvine._ ah! now i know your tale: he proved untrue-- this ever has been woman's fate, to love, to know one summer day of happiness, and then to be most wretched! _leonarde._ she was left by her so heartless lover while she slept. she woke from pleasant dreams--she dreamt of him-- love's power is left in slumber--woke and found herself deserted on the lonely shore. the bark of the false theseus was a speck scarce seen upon the waters, less and less, like hope diminishing, till wholly past. i will not say, for you can fancy well, her desolate feelings as she roamed the beach, hurled from the highest heaven of happy love! but evening crimsoned the blue sea, a sound of music and of mirth, came on the wind, and radiant shapes and laughing nymphs danced by, and he the theban god, looked on the maid, and looked and loved, and was beloved again. he has just flung her starry crown on high, and bade it there, a long memorial shine, how a god loved a mortal--he is springing from out his golden car, another bound, bacchus is by his ariadne's side." l. e. l. [illustration] theseus married phædra, daughter of minos, sister of the unfortunate ariadne whom he had left to perish. phædra, however, unhappily, felt a guilty love for hippolytus, son of theseus by a previous union. venus, having a dislike to minos, the father of phædra, sent cupid to pierce her with his shafts. { } for a long time she struggled with the pangs which raged within her, but they grew too fierce to be endured, and she revealed to him her love. _phæ._ "'my lord, 'tis said you soon will part from us. _hip._ madam! _phæ._ i pray you do not leave us! _hip._ my duty, lady!-- _phæ._ would that that duty, were in pleasing me; _hip._ to please you, lady, were my highest wish, to gain your love, my highest privilege. _phæ._ to gain my love? _hip._ aye, madam! _phæ._ hippolytus! the fearful truth will out, _my love is gained_! _hip._ i hope, indeed so,--as a mother. _phæ. aside_--(how coldly doth _he_ speak, while thro' _my_ veins the hot blood bounds in fierce convulsive starts.) not as a mother do i love thee, but--as a woman--now my breast is free of the stern secret which so long hath burned and given a fever to my very looks. _hip._ madam! i do not understand you; _phæ._ you must! fierce, burning love is mine, for you, hippolytus, the son of theseus! _hip._ and you his wife? _phæ._ aye, boy, 'tis even so; nay, look not so:--i say hippolytus, that from the very hour i saw, i loved thee; that from the very moment that thy voice rang in my ears, it entered in my heart, that from the hour i was theseus' wife, even at the altar, where my plight was vowed, my thoughts were all of thee. speak, speak, and say thou dost not hate me. _hip._ some sudden frenzy hath upset thy brain-- thou knowest not what thou speakest. _phæ._ i am not mad! would to the gods i were-- think not that i have yielded willingly, unto the passion which i now avow, daily, and hourly, have i striven against it: and night by night, when visions and when dreams pressed on my brain in many a confused shape, all bearing one image, and that image thine, i have striven, wrestled, fought against this love, but all in vain. _hip._ i scarcely dare believe mine ears, a dream seems on me, like a man in sleep, a mass of dim confusion gathers round me; am i indeed hippolytus, and art thou phædra? _phæ._ i am thy phædra! theseus has my hand, but thou, hippolytus, thou hast my heart. _hip._ theseus--my father-- { } [illustration] _phæ._ thy father and my husband, what of that? love knows no ties save those he makes himself, speak to me-- say that i yet may hope to lay my head on that dear bosom, say thou wilt not spurn the heart that rests its only hope on thee. say, or, but look, a clear return of love, and i will fall upon my knees adoring thee! _hip._ madam, i would not, could not wrong my father; and thou, how canst thou meet his face? shame, shame, upon the wanton love that leaves the marriage bed, even were it but in thought: and thou above thy compeers raised afar, in that thy name is mated with my father's, shouldst pray the gods to scourge this passion from thee. _phæ._ oh! by thine hopes of heaven i pray thee peace! _hip._ peace, thou! adultress! peace, thou, shameless one, away, lest i should change a husband's love, into a husband's hate. _phæ._ thou canst not do it! _hip._ what if i did proclaim to him thy guilt? what if i said--father! thy wife, my mother, hath offered me the love due but to thee, hath with a shameless love, and wanton's insolence, deemed she could win me to her bed-- woman, i tell thee-- { } _phæ._ and i tell thee, that he would not believe thee. yet--say it not, hippolytus! for i do love thee as-- _hip._ i'll hear no more! _mother!_ i leave thee, and i pray the gods to visit not on thee, this awful crime!'" racine. fearful lest hippolytus should betray her, when she found he would not return her sinful passion, phædra accused his son to theseus of the very crime of which she had herself been guilty, and excited the father's ire against his son in a terrible degree. [illustration] _the._ "'dost thou dare look upon me boy? _hip._ my father? _the._ dost see this sword? _hip._ aye! _the._ dost dread it? _hip._ no; the innocent have nought to fear; _the._ now by my crown, this is most base effrontery, but 'tis in vain, thy mother hath told all, hath told how, with an impious love, thy heart hath turned to her's; how with an impure lip, thy words have pierced her to the soul. _hip._ and dost thou doubt me father? _the._ perfidious wretch! can'st stand before me thus? monster too long escaped jove's fearful thunder, after a love filled with an awful horror and transports of affection fiercely urged, that would pollute thy father's marriage bed, thou darest present to me thy traitor brow, and vow thine innocence. away from these scenes of thine infamy, away and seek beneath a sky unknown, a land where theseus' name hath never sounded; fly, traitor! brave no longer here, my hate! within a court that i shall hold with dread, { } for ever will the curse cling to my name, and endless infamy my memory, that, having given birth to one so shameless, i dared not take the life i gave to him! wretch that thou art, dost thou not answer me? _hip._ sire, i am not the wretch that thou would'st make me. horror--astonishment--have kept me silent-- _the._ darest thou add falsehood to thine infamy? _hip._ thy words are most unjust! _the._ and there thou standest with a brow as calm as innocence itself. _hip._ in this i am most innocent!-- nay, interrupt me not, for i will speak-- thou hast accused me of an awful crime, thou hast accursed me with a father's curse, and i must vindicate myself or die? phædra, my mother, and thy wife, avowed in accents shameless as the wish she breathed, a most incestuous passion for my person: with fierce disdain i spurned her offered love, implored her to remember that i stood before her as thy son, and did entreat her to come back to the straight path of her duty. _the._ and dost thou think that thou canst thus deceive me? away, away, no more pollute my court; wert thou not called my son, thy time were short.'" racine. banished thus from the court of his father, the only consolation for a long time that hippolytus possessed, was the consciousness of innocence. remorse, however, at last preyed upon the bosom of phædra; after taking poison she confessed to theseus the crime of which she had been guilty, and hippolytus was restored to the affections of his father. the name of theseus had been rendered by his bravery so conspicuous and so dreaded by his enemies, that a tradition became popular, to the effect that he appeared at the battle of marathon to fight for the greeks, who seemed likely to be overwhelmed by the numbers of their opponents. "know ye not when our dead from sleep to battle sprung? when the persian charger's tread on their covering greensward rung! when the trampling march of foes had crushed our vines and flowers, when jewelled crests arose through the holy laurel bowers, when banners caught the breeze, when helms in sunlight shone, when masts were on the seas, and spears in marathon. { } "there was one a leader crowned, and armed for greece that day; but the falchions made no sound on his gleaming war array. in the battle's front he stood, with his tall and shadowy crest; but the arrows drew no blood, though their path was thro' his breast. when banners caught the breeze, &c. "his sword was seen to flash where the boldest deeds were done; but it smote without a clash; the stroke was heard by none! his voice was not of those that swelled the rolling blast, and his steps fell hushed like snows,-- 'twas the shade of theseus passed! when banners caught the breeze, &c. "far sweeping thro' the foe, with a furious charge he bore, and the mede left many a bow on the sounding ocean shore, and the foaming waves grew red, and the sails were crowded fast, when the sons of asia fled as the shade of theseus passed! when banners caught the breeze, when helms in sunlight shone, when masts were on the seas, and spears in marathon!" hemans. [illustration] { } orpheus. the distinguished honour which the ancients rendered to orpheus, appears to have been an homage paid by the refinement of the age to music and poetry, of which he was so distinguished an ornament. he was the son of oeager by the muse calliope, though some assert him to have been the son of apollo, because the god, owing to the genius he showed for music, presented him with a lyre, to the improvement of which orpheus added two cords,--and upon which he played with so masterly a hand, that the river in its rapid current ceased to flow, the wild beasts of the forest forgot their nature, and gazed on him in mute admiration, while the very rocks moved towards him to express their joy. "the rocks re-echo shrill, the beasts of forest wild stand at the cavern's mouth, in listening trance beguiled. the birds surround the den, and, as in weary rest, they drop their fluttering wings, forgetful of the rest, amazed the centaur saw; his clapping hands he beat, and stamped in ecstacy the rock with hoofed and horny feet." but though this beautiful art was his master passion, he did not forget the charms of theology and philosophy, in both of which he was a proficient, and in egypt, to which place he made a voyage, he was admitted to the sacred mysteries of isis and osiris. on his return he was the originator of many changes in the religious ceremonials of his country, and was received as the minister and interpreter of the will of the gods. nature itself seemed charmed and animated by his presence, and the nymphs made his company their chief desire. it was not long before the winged deity pierced him with his arrows, and orpheus loved the nymph eurydice, the only one whose charms touched the melodious musician; with her his happiness was made perfect by an union, at which hymen presided. this happiness, however, was not destined to last very long, for aristæus became enamoured of the musician's bride, and with all the violence of an illicit passion, sought to win her from the bridegroom's affections. eurydice resisted and fled; but as she fled from him, a serpent stung her with so deadly a bite, that she died on the field. { } deep was the despair felt by orpheus at his unexpected loss, and the daring determination was formed by him to recover her, or perish in the attempt. [illustration] "his own despair the very stones admire and rolling follow his melodious lyre, he forced the heart of hardest oak to groan, and made fierce tigers leave their rage and moan." with his resistless lyre in his hands, he crossed the styx, penetrated into the infernal regions, and gained admission to the presence of pluto! here the power of his genius was yet more eminently exhibited; for even the tortures of hell gave way to it. "at his powerful song the very seats of erebus were moved; the retreats of all the ghosts were opened, and they swarm like bees in clusters, when the sun grows warm!" not only was the god of the infernal regions delighted, but the very wheel of ixion paused; the stone of sisyphus rested, as they listened to its sounds: the cooling water reached tantalus' burning mouth, and even the furies relented. "already had he passed the courts of death, and charmed with sacred verse the powers beneath; while hell with silent admiration hung, on the soft music of his harp and tongue; no longer tantalus essayed to sip the springs that fled from his deluded lip; their urn the fifty maids no longer fill, ixion leant and listened on his wheel, and sysiphus' stone for once stood still; the ravenous vulture had forsook his meal, and titius felt his growing liver heal; relenting fiends to torture souls forbore, and furies wept who never wept before. { } all hell in harmony was heard to move, with equal sweetness as the spheres above. the wondrous numbers softened all beneath hell, and the inmost flinty seats of death: snakes round the furies heads did upward rear, and seemed to listen to the pleasing air, while fiery styx in milder streams did roll, and cerberus gaped, but yet forbore to howl, no longer was the charming prayer denied, all hell consented to release his bride." ovid. [illustration] the sorrow and love of orpheus penetrated the hearts of pluto and proserpine; they consented to restore him to the arms of eurydice, if he could forbear to look behind him before he reached the borders of hell. gladly were these conditions accepted by orpheus, and already was he by the river styx, eager to be conveyed across by the infernal boatman, when a touching thought of eurydice and her love crossed his mind, and he looked back. "near the confines of ethereal air, unmindful and unable to forbear, mistrusting also lest her steps might stray, and gladsome of the glimpse of dawning day, he stopped--looked back--(what cannot love persuade?) to take one view of the unhappy maid. his longing eyes impatient backward cast, to catch a lover's look--but looked his last: { } here all his pains were lost, one greedy look, defeats his hopes, and hell's conditions broke, a fatal messenger from pluto flew, and snatched the forfeit from a second view, for instant dying, she again descends, while he to empty air his arms extends!" ovid. [illustration] the condition being thus broken, he saw her, but at the same moment she was turned into a shadow. "and fainting cries, 'what fury thee possest? what frenzy, orpheus, seized upon thy breast? once more my eyes are seized with endless sleep, and now farewell, i sink into the deep.' oblivious cells surrounded all with night. no longer thine: in vain to stop my flight i stretch my arms, in vain thou stretchest thine, in vain thou grievest, i in vain repine.'" virgil. { } he returned to the upper world, where the only solace which he could find, was to soothe his grief with the tones of his musical instrument, to the sound of which, the mountains and caves of his native land bore a melancholy echo. he secluded himself entirely from the company of mankind; in vain was his society sought by the thracian women; he rejected their overtures with coldness, until enraged at his behaviour, they attacked him while celebrating the bacchanalian orgies. "here while the thracian bard's enchanting strain, sooths beasts and woods, and all the listening plain: the female bacchanals devoutly mad, in shaggy skins, like savage creatures clad, warbling in air perceived his lovely lay, and from a rising ground beheld him play: when one, the wildest, with dishevelled hair that loosely streamed, and ruffled in the air: soon as her frantic eye the lyrist spied 'see, see, the hater of our sex,' she cried, then at his face her missive javelin sent, which whizzed along, and brushed him as it went; but the soft wreaths of ivy twisted round, prevent a deep impression of the wound, next their fierce hands the bard himself assail, nor can his song against their wrath prevail; in vain he lifts his suppliant hands, in vain he tries, before his never failing strain; and, from those sacred lips, whose thrilling sound fierce tigers and insensate rocks could wound, ah gods! how moving was the mournful sight, to see the fleeting soul now take its flight!" dryden. after tearing his body to pieces, they threw his head into the hebrus, which, as it rolled down the current, ejaculated with touching tenderness, 'eurydice! eurydice!' until it reached the �gean sea. the inhabitants of dian asserted that his tomb was in their city, but the people of mount libethrus, in thrace, claimed the same honour, remarking that the nightingales which formed their nests near it, excelled all others in melody and beauty. after his death, he is reported by some to have received divine honours, the muses rendering the rites of sepulture to his remains, and his lyre becoming one of the constellations. * * * * * { } admetus was the king of thessaly, whose flocks were tended by apollo for nine years, when banished from heaven. during his servitude to this monarch he obtained a promise from the fates, that admetus should never die if another person would lay down his life for him. being one of the argonauts, he was at the hunt of the calydonian boar, when pelias promised his daughter in marriage to him only, who could bring him a chariot drawn by a lion and wild boar. with the aid of apollo, admetus effected this, and obtained the hand of alcestis. by the fortune of war, he became a prisoner, and was condemned to death; alcestis, with a beautiful display of conjugal affection, laid down her life to save her husband from the cruel death prepared for him. death-song of alcestis. "she came forth in her bridal robes arrayed, and midst the graceful statues round the hall shedding the calm of their celestial mien, stood pale, yet proudly beautiful as they: flowers in her bosom, and the star-like gleam of jewels trembling from her braided hair and death upon her brow! but glorious death! her own heart's choice, the token of the seal of love, o'ermastering love; which till that hour, almost an anguish in the brooding weight of its unutterable tenderness, had burdened her full soul. but now, oh! now, its time was come--and from the spirit's depths the passion and the melody of its immortal voice, in triumph broke like a strong rushing wind! the soft pure air came floating through that hall--the grecian air, laden with music--flute notes from the vales, echoes of song--the last sweet sounds of life and the glad sunshine of the golden clime streamed, as a royal mantle, round her form-- the glorified of love! but she--she look'd only on him for whom 'twas joy to die, deep--deepest, holiest joy!--or if a thought of the warm sunlight, and the scented breeze, and the sweet dorian songs, o'erswept the tide of her unswerving soul--'twas but a thought that owned the summer loveliness of life to him a worthy offering--so she stood wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile, till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame with the swift breeze of inspiration shook, as the pale priestess trembles to the breath { } of unborn oracles! then flushed her cheek, and all the triumph, all the agony, born on the battling waves of love and death all from her woman's heart, in sudden song burst like a fount of fire, 'i go, i go, thou sun, thou golden sun, i go far from thy light to dwell: thou shalt not find my place below, dim is that world--bright sun of greece, farewell! the laurel and the glorious rose thy glad beam yet may see, but where no purple summer glows o'er the dark wave i haste from them and thee. yet doth my spirit faint to part, i mourn thee not, o sun! joy, solemn joy, o'erflows my heart, sing me triumphant songs! my crown is won. let not a voice of weeping rise--, my heart is girt with power let the green earth and festal skies laugh, as to grace a conqueror's closing hour! for thee, for thee, my bosom's lord! thee, my soul's loved! i die; thine is the torch of life restored, mine, mine the rapture, mine the victory. now may the boundless love, that lay unfathomed still before in one consuming burst find way, in one bright flood all, all its riches pour. thou knowest--thou knowest what love is now! its glory and its might-- are they not written on my brow? and will that image ever quit thy sight? no! deathless in thy faithful breast, there shall my memory keep its own bright altar place of rest, while o'er my grave the cypress branches weep. oh, the glad light! the light is fair, the soft breeze warm and free; and rich notes fill the scented air, and all are gifts, my love's last gifts to thee! take me to thy warm heart once more! night falls, my pulse beats low; seek not to quicken, to restore-- joy is in every pang,--i go, i go! i feel thy tears, i feel thy breath, i meet thy fond look, still keen is the strife of love and death; faint and yet frantic grows my bosom's thrill. yet swells the tide of rapture strong, though mists o'ershade mine eye! sing pæans! sing a conqueror's song! for thee, for thee, my spirit's lord, i die!'" hemans. * * * * * { } amphion and niobe. amphion was king of thebes, the favourite of apollo and rival of the celebrated orpheus in the science of music. it is related of him, that in order to build the walls which surrounded his capital, he played upon his lyre, and by its divine power, the stones came and ranged themselves in order. he married niobe, by whom he had seven sons and seven daughters; the trials of this princess have been given in the history of apollo, leaving a touching memorial of the sorrows of maternal love and tenderness. * * * * * oedipus, king of thebes. oedipus was the son of laius and jocasta; and being descended from venus, was compelled to endure all the troubles which juno might choose to inflict on him, from the hatred she bore to the goddess of beauty. [illustration] no sooner had the marriage of laius taken place with jocasta, than it was foretold by the oracle, that he would fall by the hands { } of his son. alarmed at so fearful a prediction, he resolved not to approach his wife. having broken this wise resolution, however, he became the father of oedipus, but to avert the oracle, he ordered jocasta to destroy the infant immediately he was born. the mother was unable to obey this cruel command, but gave him in charge to one of her domestics, with directions to leave him on the mountains. instead of obeying this order, the servant bored a hole in the feet of the child, and hung him on a tree on mount cithæron, where he was soon found by one of the shepherds of polybus, king of corinth. [illustration] the shepherd took him and presented him to peribæa, the wife of polybus, who conceived a maternal tenderness for the deserted child, and adopted him as her own. the accomplishments of the boy, who was named oedipus, soon became the admiration of the age; he was informed that he was illegitimate, though peribæa, when he appealed to her, told him, { } out of kindness, that his suspicions were unfounded. he remained dissatisfied however, and consulted the delphian oracle, by which he was told not to return home, or he must inevitably become the murderer of his father, and the husband of his mother. [illustration] as he travelled towards phocis, he met, in a narrow passage, laius, his father, in a chariot with his arm bearer. laius insolently ordered the youth to move out of his way, which oedipus, not knowing him, and irritated at his tone and language, refused. a conflict ensued, and laius with his companion was slain. ----------------------"'his demeanour bold, imperative, and arrogant: from far he waved his hand, that i should quit the path. most narrow was the place, and scarce allowed to one, free passage. i was incensed at his deportment, free myself by birth, hence i advanced with an undaunted step: he, with a terrible accent, cried, "make way." i, on the other hand, exclaimed with rage, returned his menace, and bade him retire. already had we met: he from his side, unsheathed a dagger, and upon me leap'd. { } i had no dagger, but i lacked not courage. me he assailed. i combated his onset, grasp'd him, and in less time than i relate it; flung him upon the earth: in vain he strove; when to the contest he perceived himself inadequate, insidiously he feigned terms of submission: i consented to them: quitted my grasp, when treacherously a blow, such as thou sees't here, he aimed at me, and pierced my clothes. the weapon grazed my flesh the wound is slight, but boundless was my rage. blind with revenge i snatched the dagger from him, and weltering in his blood he lay transfixed.'" alfieri. ignorant of the rank of the man he had killed, he continued his way to thebes, attracted thither by the noise which had been vented about of the sphynx, a frightful monster then laying waste the country around thebes, and devouring all who could not expound the enigma it proposed, which was--"what animal in the morning walks upon four legs, in the afternoon upon two, and in the evening upon three legs." the answer of oedipus was "that in infancy man goes upon his hands and feet; in manhood he walks upright, and in old age with the assistance of a staff." enraged at this solution, the monster dashed its head against a rock, and delivered thebes from his unwelcome presence. the prediction, partly fulfilled, was now entirely brought to pass, for oedipus mounted the throne, and married jocasta, his mother, by whom he had two sons, polynice and eteocles, and two daughters, ismene and antigone. some years after, a plague visited his territories, and the oracle was consulted, which stated that it would only cease when the murderer of king laius was banished from the country. the slayer of this king had never been discovered, and the whole of thebes was in violent excitement, anxious to discover the murderer, to avert the plague which raged; oedipus himself instituted all possible inquiry, resolved to overcome every difficulty. what was his sorrow at learning as the result of his unwearied zeal, that he himself was the unhappy parricide, and still more, that he was the husband of his own mother. _oedipus._ "'why speak you not according to my charge? bring forth the rack, since mildness cannot win you torment shall force. _phorbas._ hold, hold, oh! dreadful sir, you will not rack an innocent man. { } _oed._ speak, then. _phor._ alas! what would you have me say? _oed._ did this old man take from your arms an infant? _phor._ he did, and oh! i wish to all the gods, phorbas had perished in that very moment. _oed._ moment! thou shalt be hours, days, years undying, here, bind his hands, he dallies with my fury, but i shall find a way-- _phor._ by the gods, i do conjure you to enquire no more. _oed._ furies and hell! hæmon bring forth the rack, fetch hither cords and knives, and sulphurous flames. he shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off and burned alive. _phor._ o spare my age. _oed._ who gave that infant to thee? _phor._ o wretched state! i die, unless i speak; and if i speak most certain death attends me. _oed._ thou shalt not die; speak then, who was it? speak, while i have sense to understand the horror, for i grow cold. _phor._ the queen, jocasta told me it was her son by laius. _oed._ o you gods--break, break not yet my heart, though my eyes burst, no matter, wilt thou tell me, or must i ask for ever? for what end? why gave she thee her child? _phor._ to murder it. _oed._ o more than savage! murder her own bowels without a cause. _phor._ there was a dreadful one which had foretold that most unhappy son should kill his father, and enjoy his mother. _oed._ 'tis well! i thank you gods! 'tis wondrous well! dagger and poison--o there is no need for my dispatch; and you, ye merciless powers, hoard up your thunder stones; keep, keep your bolts for crimes of little note. _adrastus._ help--and bow him gently forward, chafe, chafe his temples--he breathes again, and vigorous nature breaks through opposition. how fares my royal friend? _oed._ the worse for you. o barbarous men, and oh! the hated light, what did you force me back to curse the day, to curse my friends, to blast with this dark breath the yet untainted earth and circling air? to raise new plagues and call new vengeance down, why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me? methinks there's not a hand that grasps thy hell, but should run up like flax, all blazing fire. stand from this spot, i wish you as my friends, and come not near me, lest the gaping earth swallow you too.'" sophocles. { } in the depth of his anguish he deprived himself of sight, as unworthy ever more to behold the light, and banished himself from thebes for the good of his country; or as many assert, he was banished from thence by his sons. he retired towards attica, led by his daughter antigone, and came to a place sacred to the furies. here the remembrance flashed across his mind, that he was to die in a place like this, that such had been the decree of the oracle, and that he was to become the great source of prosperity to the country in which his bones should be laid. he sent therefore to theseus, king of the place, to inform him, that on his arrival he would make known to him the resolution which he had made. theseus came, and found oedipus with his face covered by a black veil, a knife in one hand, and a vessel containing the blood of a sacrifice in the other. with a prophetic voice he exclaimed:-- [illustration] "lo! the immortal gods have called--the ground on which we stand, shall be my grave!" as he spoke, he walked without a guide to the appointed spot of earth, which in token of approval, opened, and received the victim to its bosom. the tomb of oedipus was near the areopagus in the age of { } pausanias, and some of the ancient poets have represented him in hell, as the place, which crimes like his, would seem to deserve. [illustration] * * * * * eteocles and polynice. from the unhappy union of oedipus with jocasta sprung eteocles and polynice; when they came to manhood an arrangement was made between them, by which it was agreed, that they should exercise the kingly authority for one year alternately. eteocles was the eldest, and took to himself the first period of government; but when his year had past, the throne had proved so agreeable, that he refused to keep his promise of abdicating. polynice disgusted at such conduct retired to argos, where adrastus, king of the place, gave him his daughter in marriage, and attempted to persuade eteocles into some feeling of justice; but not only did the latter persist in his conduct, but sought to slay the famous tydius, the ambassador of adrastus, who however escaped this danger with increased renown; and on his return to his king was appointed by him to join a numerous army, selected to trench against the walls of thebes; nor was this an ungrateful task to the warrior who had been so treacherously assaulted. { } --------------"frowning he speaks, and shakes the dark crest, streaming o'er his shaded helm in triple wave; whilst dreadful ring around the brazen bosses of his shield; he stands close to the river's margin, and with shouts demands the war, like an impatient steed, that pants upon the foaming curb." amphiaraus, who was famous for his knowledge of futurity, and a warrior of great renown: knew from his power of divination, that he was sure to perish if he accompanied the expedition, and therefore secreted himself so successfully, that his wife only, knew the the place of his concealment; she however consented to betray him, bribed by an offer of a bracelet of great worth from polynice, who was desirous of gaining so important an auxiliary. previous to amphiaraus quitting argos for thebes, he told his son alcmeon to slay his mother, if news of his death should reach him; and when alcmeon heard that his father's chariot had been swallowed by the earth, which opened to receive its victim, he sacrificed euriphyle to the vengeance of his dead sire. but so execrable a crime could not pass unpunished, and he was tortured by the furies until he retired to arcadia, where he married alphisibaus. to fill up the measure of his crimes, he repudiated her, and took for his spouse callirhoe. the brothers of his deserted wife however, assassinated him in revenge; and callirhoe in the extremity of her anguish, devoted her two sons in the presence of their dead father, to revenge his death. [illustration] her wishes were fulfilled, they slew the murderers of alcmeon, { } but to appease the gods, the fatal bracelet was sacrificed upon the altar of apollo. meanwhile the war beneath the the walls of thebes was conducted with fierce and vigorous bravery, by the chiefs who had assembled for its attack, until eteocles and polynice perceiving that the combat was unlikely soon to terminate, offered to finish the battle by a single combat, on which the crown should depend. --------------------"from the flying troops eteocles leaps forth in furious guise, and with a terrible accent he exclaims, 'to polynice.' with presumptuous rage, his steps he traces, and at last he finds him. 'thebans,' he cried, with a tremendous voice, 'thebans and argives, cease your guilty rage! ye have descended to the field of battle in our contention, prodigal of life ours is the strife, be ours the forfeiture. let us ourselves, to a conclusion bring this unjust waste of blood, within your presence, and on this field of death--and thou, whom i should call no more my brother, do thou spare the blood of thebes: thy hate, thy rage, thy sword, all, all, on me let fall, on me alone!' to speak and leap with fury to the charge were actions of one instant. drunk with blood, and fury, of his own life quite regardless, provided his antagonist he slew, eteocles upon his wretched brother falls with his sword, and all his strength collects. for a long time, intent to ward his blows stands polynice. but at length he cries 'i call to witness heaven and thebes thou will'st it!' while to heaven his eyes he raised, and thus exclaimed, his sword he onward thrust: the hovering furies guide the reckless blow to pierce the bosom of eteocles. he falls--upon his brother spouts his blood!" this unnatural combat was brief, though fierce, eteocles the king was the first who fell, and polynice regarding him with ill-disguised pleasure; and although the blood was flowing fast and free from his own mortal wounds, exclaimed: ----------------"'thou diest, and i am king, within these hands, red with a brother's blood, shall dwell the sceptre thou didst wrest from me. thy brow on which doth rest the same bright drop, shall bear the crown thou did'st usurp from me. and that thy soul may fly with more regret know traitor that thy last blow comes from me.'" racine. { } he approached the fallen monarch, and striking him once more with his sword, eteocles expired beneath the blow, while polynice himself exhausted with his efforts to subdue his pain, and the death struggle which tore his bosom, fell in the very act of striking him. their implacable hatred manifested itself even after death, for when their bodies were placed on the bier, their ashes refused to mingle, and the very flames separated as they arose in bright columns from the funeral pile. [illustration] * * * * * tantalus, pelops, atreus, and thyestes. tantalus, son of jupiter, reigned in phrygia. wishing to test the divinity of the gods who were visiting him, he murdered his son pelops, and served up to them his limbs, demanding of them to name what the new meat was. the faithless cruelty of tantalus was discovered, and the gods refused to touch the horrible repast, with the exception of ceres, who, thinking only on her lost proserpine, eat one of his shoulders, with her accustomed appetite. jupiter enraged at this atrocious conduct of tantalus, destroyed his palace with a thunderbolt, and ordered mercury to precipitate him to the bottom of hell. here he is represented as punished with an insatiable thirst, and placed up to the chin in the midst of a pool of water, that passes around, yet never touches his lips; while, above his head, hangs a bough, laden with delicious fruit, which, when his hand would grasp it, is borne away by a sudden blast of wind. { } pelops was restored to life by jupiter, and supplied with an ivory shoulder, in place of that which had been devoured by ceres, and to which was granted the power of healing, by its touch, every complaint. he succeeded to the throne of his father, and maintained the war against the king of troy for a long time, but was at last forced to leave phrygia and seek a retreat in pisa, where he married hippodamia, the daughter of the king, that monarch having declared that she should only wed the man who would run on foot as fast as he could proceed in his chariot. this difficulty was overcome by pelops, who bribed the charioteer to give his master an old chariot which broke down in the middle of the course, and killed oenomaus; and when the charioteer would have claimed the reward of his infamy, he threw him into the sea, under pretext of punishing his negligence. [illustration] thus master of the kingdom of pisa, and the hand of hippodamia, he made bold war upon his neighbour, and conquered their land, which he named peloponnessus, or the isle of pelops. in the family of the pelopides murder and assassination seem never to have ceased their fearful course. atreus and thyestes, the sons of pelops, having been counselled by hippodamia to kill { } chrysippus, who was an illegitimate son of pelops, they refused to obey, which so exasperated her, that she stabbed the child with her own hands. [illustration] pelops, suspecting his two sons of the crime, banished them from his court. atreus sought the kingdom of eurystheus, king of argos, and succeeded him on his throne, after marrying his daughter. here he treated his brother thyestes, who had followed him to the court, with great kindness, but he was recompensed with ingratitude, for his brother succeeded in winning the affections of his wife. irritated at so unlooked for a crime, atreus took a fearful vengeance. having been banished from the city for some time, thyestes was again recalled, and invited to a sumptuous feast, at which was served up the children born to him by the connexion with his brother's wife, all of whom had been sacrificed to his vengeance. when the repast was over he showed to him the heads of the { } children, a sight which struck thyestes with horror. the deed was so cruel and impious, that the very sun is said to have started back in amazement; and the unhappy thyestes slew himself with his sword. [illustration] there was now one son left, named egisthus, who, himself the fruit of a great crime, had been brought up by agamemnon, and to him did the spectre of thyestes appear, to exhort him to revenge upon his brother the cruel act he had performed; nor were the fates satisfied until the deed had been accomplished, which revenged upon atreus the infamous and atrocious conduct at which the very sun itself had started. "asked by his wife to his inhuman feast, tereus, unknowingly, is made a guest: while she, her plot the better to disguise styles it some unknown mystic sacrifice: and such the nature of the hallowed rite, the wife her husband only could invite, the slaves must all withdraw, and be debarred the sight. tereus on a throne of antique state, loftily raised, before the banquet sate; and, glutton-like, luxuriously pleased with his own flesh, his hungry maw appeased. nay, such a blindness o'er his senses falls, that he for itys to the table calls. when procne, now impatient to disclose the joy that from her full revenge arose, cries out, in transports of a cruel mind, 'within yourself, your itys you may find.' { } still at this puzzling answer with surprise, around the room he winds his curious eyes; and, as he still enquired, and called aloud; fierce philomela, all besmeared with blood, her hand with murder stained, her spreading hair hanging dishevelled, with a ghastly air, stepped forth, and flung full in the tyrant's face the head of itys, gory as it was: nor ever longed so much to use her tongue, and, with a just reproach, to vindicate her wrong. the thracian monarch from the table flings while with his cries the vaulted parlour rings; his imprecations echo down to hell, and rouse the snaky furies from their stygian cell. one while, he labours to disgorge his breast, and free his stomach from the cursed feast; then, weeping o'er his lamentable doom, he styles himself his son's sepulchral tomb, now, with drawn sabre, and impetuous speed, in close pursuit he drives pandion's breed; whose nimble feet spring with so swift a force across the fields, they seem to wing their course: and now, on real wings themselves they raise, and steer their airy flight by different ways: one to the woodland's shady covert hies, around the smoky roof the other flies; whose feathers yet the marks of murder stain, where, stampt upon her breast, the crimson spots remain. tereus, through grief, and haste to be revenged, shares the like fate, and to a bird is changed: fixed on his head, the crested plumes appear; long is his beak, and sharpened like a spear; thus armed, his looks his inward mind display, and, to a lapwing turned, he fans his way." ovid. [illustration] { } agamemnon and menelaus. [illustration] agamemnon and menelaus were educated with atreus, until banished the kingdom by thyestes, they went to calydonia, and they were treated with great kindness, and from thence to sparta, where, like the remainder of the greek princes, they sought the hand of helen. by the advice and artifice of ulysses, menelaus became her husband, agamemnon marrying clytemnestra; and tyndarus, their father, monarch of sparta, assisted in recovering for them their father's kingdom. menelaus succeeded to his father in law's throne, and became king of sparta, and paris, son of priam, king of troy, was one of the numerous visitors at his court. to this prince venus had promised the possession of the finest woman in greece. the absence of menelaus in crete gave to paris every opportunity, and he succeeded in corrupting the fidelity of helen, who abandoned herself to her seducer, and followed him to his palace at troy. vainly were ambassadors sent to priam, to make known to him the infamous conduct of his son. not only did he refuse all reparation, but he embittered the interview by recalling all the ancient grievances of the two kingdoms. this unjust conduct gave birth to a terrible war; agamemnon embraced the cause of his brother with fervour, awoke all greece { } to the wrongs of menelaus, and was proclaimed the chief of the kings, who united their armies beneath the walls of argos; and showed his personal zeal by furnishing one hundred ships, and lending sixty more for her assistance. the greek army amounted to sixty thousand soldiers, and their fleet to twelve hundred vessels, but at the very moment that they reckoned on starting, a deep calm settled on the waters. the oracle was consulted, which declared that nothing less than the sacrifice of iphigenia, the daughter of agamemnon, could suffice, as the latter had excited the wrath of diana, by killing a favourite stag. the father heard the decree with the greatest horror and indignation, and, as chief of the forces, ordered his herald to command them all to retire to their separate homes. ulysses and the other generals interfered; and at last agamemnon was persuaded to sacrifice a daughter so tenderly beloved but as she was a great favourite with clytemnestra, her mother, the greeks sent for iphigenia, pretending that they sought her hand in marriage for achills. [illustration] clytemnestra gladly gave her consent; but when they came to aulis, iphigenia saw the bloody preparation for her sacrifice. in vain did she implore the protection of her father: tears and entreaties were alike unavailing, but as the fatal blow was about to be struck, a goat of great beauty was found in her place for the { } sacrifice. the supernatural change animated the greeks, the wind suddenly became favourable, and the combined fleet set sail. "fair iphigenia, the devoted maid, was by the weeping priests in linen robes arrayed, all mourn her fate; but no relief appeared: the royal victim bound, the knife already reared when that offended power who caused their woe, relenting, ceased her wrath, and stopped the coming blow. a mist before the ministers she cast, and in the virgin's room a hind she placed." after the fall of troy the beautiful cassandra came to the share of agamemnon, and she foretold that his wife clytemnestra would put him to death. he, however, returned with cassandra to argos, where the sad prediction was fulfilled. one day as he came from the bath, clytemnestra gave him a tunic, the sleeves of which were sewn together, and as he was embarrassed with the folds, she brought him to the ground with the stroke of a hatchet, while egisthus, with whom she had dishonoured herself during agamemnon's absence, gave him the finishing blow. "_clytemnestra._ what have i done?-- where am i? _egisthus._ hast thou slain the tyrant? now at length thou art worthy of me. _cly._ see with blood the dagger drops:--my hands--my face--my garment, all, all are blood. ah! for a deed like this what vengeance shall be wreaked? i see already, already to my breast that very sword i see hurled back--and by what hand! i freeze, i faint, i shudder, i dissolve with horror! my strength, my utterance fail me. where am i, what have i done? alas! _egis._ tremendous cries resound on every side throughout the palace. _cly._ he had no power to escape, or to resist, entangled in the gorgeous robe that shone fatally rich. i struck him twice, and twice he groaned, then died. a third time as he lay i gored him with a wound; a grateful present to the stern god that in the realms below reigns o'er the dead. there let him take his seat, he lay, and spouting from his wounds a stream of blood, bedewed me with these crimson drops." �schylus. the tradition of the meeting of iphigenia with her father in the lower regions, after his death, when the latter was ignorant of the { } infamy of her mother, and the cause of her father's death, is thus beautifully described:-- "_iphigenia._ father! i now may lean upon your breast, and you with unreverted eyes will grasp iphigenia's hand. we are not shades surely! for yours throbs yet, and did my blood win troy for greece? ah! 'twas ill done to shrink; but the sword gleamed so sharp; and the good priest trembled, and pallas frowned above, severe. _agamemnon._ daughter! _iphig._ beloved father! is the blade again to pierce a bosom now unfit for sacrifice? no blood is in its veins, no god requires it here; here are no wrongs to vindicate, no realms to overthrow. you standing as at aulis in the fane, with face averted, holding (as before) my hand; but yours burns not, as then it burned. this alone shews me we are with the blest, nor subject to the sufferings we have borne. i will win back past kindness. tell me then, tell how my mother fares who loved me so, and grieved, as 'twere for you, to see me part. frown not, but pardon me for tarrying amid too idle words, nor asking how she praised us both (which most?) for what we did. _aga._ ye gods who govern here! do human pangs reach the pure soul thus far below? do tears spring in these meadows? _iphig._ no, sweet father, no. i could have answered that; why ask the gods? _aga._ iphigenia! o my child! the earth has gendered crimes unheard of heretofore, and nature may have changed in her last depths, together with the gods and all their laws. _iphig._ father! we must not let you here condemn; not, were the day less joyful: recollect we have no wicked here; no king to judge. poseidon, we have heard, with bitter rage lashes his foaming steeds against the skies, and, laughing with loud yell at winged fire, innoxious to his fields and palaces affrights the eagle from the sceptred hand; while pluto, gentlest brother of the three and happiest in obedience, views sedate his tranquil realm, nor envies their's above. no change have we, not even day for night, nor spring for summer, all things are serene, serene too be your spirit! none on earth { } ever was half so kindly in his house, and so compliant, even to a child. never was snatched your robe away from me, though going to the council. the blind man knew his good king was leading him in doors, before he heard the voice that marshal'd greece. therefore all praised you. proudest men themselves in others praise humility, and most admire it in the sceptre and the sword. what then can make you speak thus rapidly and briefly? in your step thus hesitate? are you afraid to meet among the good incestuous helen here? _aga._ oh! gods of hell! _iphig._ she hath not past the river. we may walk with our hands linked, nor feel our house's shame. _aga._ never may'st thou, iphigenia! feel it! aulis had no sharp sword, thou would'st exclaim, greece no avenger--i, her chief so late, through erebus, through elysium, writhe beneath it. _iphig._ come, i have better diadems than those of argos and mycenai--come away, and i will weave them for you on the bank. you will not look so pale when you have walked a little in the grove, and have told all those sweet fond words the widow sent her child. _aga._ oh earth! i suffered less upon thy shores! (_aside_) the bath that bubbled with my blood, the blows that spilt it (o worse torture) must she know? ah! the first woman coming from mycenai will pine to pour this poison in her ear, taunting sad charon for his slow advance. iphigenia! _iphig._ why thus turn away? calling me with such fondness! i am here, father! and where you are, will ever be. _aga._ thou art my child--yes, yes, thou art my child. all was not once what all now is! come on, idol of love and truth! my child! my child! (_alone_) fell woman! ever false! false was thy last denunciation, as thy bridal vow; and yet even that found faith with me! the dirk which severed flesh from flesh, where this hand rests, severs not, as thou boasted'st in thy scoffs, iphigenia's love from agamemnon: the wife's a spark may light, a straw consume, the daughter's not her hearts whole fount hath quenched, 'tis worthy of the gods, and lives for ever. _iphig._ what spake my father to the gods above? unworthy am i then to join in prayer? if, on the last, or any day before, { } of my brief course on earth, i did amiss, say it at once, and let me be unblest; but, o my faultless father! why should you? and shun so my embraces? am i wild and wandering in my fondness? we are shades!! groan not thus deeply; blight not thus the season of full orbed gladness! shades we are indeed, but mingled, let us feel it, with the blest. i knew it, but forgot it suddenly, altho' i felt it all at your approach. look on me; smile with me at my illusion-- you are so like what you have ever been (except in sorrow!) i might well forget i could not win you as i used to do. it was the first embrace since my descent i ever aimed at: those who love me live, save one, who loves me most, and now would chide me. _aga._ we want not o iphigenia, we want not embrace, nor kiss that cools the heart with purity, nor words that more and more teach what we know, from those we know, and sink often most deeply where they fall most light. time was when for the faintest breath of thine kingdom and life were little. _iphig._ value them as little now. _aga._ were life and kingdom all! _iphig._ ah! by our death many are sad who loved us. they will be happy too. cheer! king of men! cheer! there are voices, songs--cheer! arms advance. _aga._ come to me, soul of peace! these, these alone, these are not false embraces." w. s. landor. * * * * * the trojan war. the sails were spread, and the vessels destined to the attack of troy advanced quickly towards its shores. priam and his brave sons though they received the enemy with vigour, could not prevent them from landing, and the siege commenced by a blockade, which lasted for the space of nine years, and might have lasted much longer, as more than valour was necessary to take the city; for destiny had dictated the conditions to be fulfilled, ere its capture could be accomplished. an ancient oracle had foretold that among the besiegers must be one of the descendants of eachus, who had worked on the wall of { } of ilion, and achilles, son of thetis, considered eachus as his ancestor. this young hero had been hidden by his frightened mother in the isle of cyros. clothed in female garments, he there lived with the beautiful deidomia, and enslaved by love, forgot over the cradle of his offspring, the glory of his country, and the precepts of his tutor, chiron, the centaur. but it was necessary that he should be discovered; and that he should be animated with higher thoughts and more exalted sentiments. ulysses, king of ithaca, took upon himself the charge of bringing the young achilles from his inglorious ease to the post which awaited him in the camp. disguised as a merchant, ulysses introduced himself into the palace of the future hero, and as he paraded himself before the women with jewels and arms, one of them disdained the gems, and seized a sword!--it was achilles!--who thus betrayed his manly inclinations. [illustration] thus discovered, the eloquence of ulysses was exerted, and the youthful hero listened with astonishment to the king of ithaca, as he told him of the dangers already overcome, and of the future conquests which awaited him. ulysses departed, but not alone, for the spirit of glory was aroused in achilles, and one more defender was added to the cause of menelaus. but the besiegers were also to possess the arrows of hercules, which this hero in dying had bequeathed to philoctetes, who, however, would not give up the terrible arms that no mortal dared take from him. ulysses presented himself to philoctetes, who, at the command of the manes of hercules, sought the grecian camp with his terrible weapons to assist them against their enemies. [illustration: pyrrha seizing the sword before achilles.] { } but this was not enough. it was necessary to take from the trojans the talismanic protector of their city, the palladium. ulysses was also charged with this mission, and the intrepid diomedes assisted him to triumph over the obstacles which would have resisted his single efforts, and they went forth to seek the statue of pallas, in the very city of their intrepid foes. it was necessary likewise that rhesus, king of thrace, should be prevented from allowing his horses to drink of the waters of the xanthus, an ancient oracle having declared that if they drank of those waters or fed in the trojan plain, that troy would never be taken. in this too they succeeded; for diomedes and ulysses intercepted him on his journey to the trojan camp, entered his tent at night and slew him; they then carried off the horses which had been the innocent causes of his melancholy fate. all the oracles being now fulfilled, the siege was commenced with vigour, when an unforeseen quarrel stopped the operations of the greeks. achilles having been deprived by agamemnon of his favourite mistress, retired into his tent. reverses of fortune instantly signalised his absence. a general assault, however, was ordered, but directly the army displayed itself before the walls, paris challenged menelaus to single combat, and promised to return helen if he was vanquished. the king of sparta, protected by his bravery and the justice of his cause, accepted his challenge, and would have sacrificed the coward trojan to his vengeance, when he took flight, and escaped by the aid of venus. --------"poised in air, the javelin sent, through paris' shield the fearful weapon went, his corslet pierces, and his garment rends, and, glancing downward, near his flank descends. the wary trojan, bending from the blow, eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: but fierce atrides waved his sword, and struck full on his casque, the crested helmet shook: the brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, broke short, the fragments glittered on the sand. the raging warrior to the spacious skies raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes. 'then is it vain in jove himself to trust? and is it thus the gods assist the just? when crimes provoke us, heaven success denies, the dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies.' { } furious he said, and tow'rd the grecian crew seized by the crest, th' unhappy warrior drew; struggling he followed, while th' embroidered throng, that tied his helmet dragged the chief along. then had his ruin crowned atrides' joy, but venus trembled for the prince of troy; unseen she came, and burst the golden band, and left an empty helmet in his hand." homer. the greeks claimed the execution of the promise, and in return a trojan archer sent an arrow which wounded agamemnon. a general melée ensued, the formidable diomedes dashed into the midst of the trojans, wounded venus, who protected paris, and struck mars himself; and hector, the brave son of priam was compelled to retire, exhorting the trojans to supplicate pallas to withdraw diomedes from the combat. after this bloody action, in which the gods themselves had taken part, the two armies engaged in several skirmishes without much advantage on either side. the siege still continued, and the anger of achilles remained, until his revenge was aroused by the death of patroclus, his friend, who was slain in battle by hector. "thus by an arm divine and mortal spear wounded at once, patroclus yields to fear, retires for succour to his social train, and flies the fate which heaven decreed, in vain. stern hector as the bleeding chief he views, breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues: the lance arrests him with a mortal wound; he falls, earth shudders, and his arms resound. with him all greece was sunk, that moment all her yet surviving heroes seemed to fall. patroclus thus, so many chiefs o'erthrown, so many lives effused, expires his own." homer. to avenge the death of his comrade in arms, achilles conducted the greeks to the attack. the gods again mingled in the fight. hector and achilles met in fierce combat, and the first fell gloriously. the son of peleus refused to the trojans the last and only consolation of thinking that the remains should be given to the aged priam. he had the cruelty to tie the body to his chariot, and in that way to drag it three times round the city, a sacrifice to the tomb of patroclus, and the unfortunate priam was obliged to give a large ransom for the remains of hector. { } "then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred, unworthy of himself and of the dead, the nervous ancles bored, his feet he bound with thongs inserted through the double wound; these fixed up high behind the rolling wain, his graceful head was hauled along the plain. proud on his car th' insulting victor stood, and bore aloft his arms distilling blood. he smites the steeds, the rapid chariot flies; the sudden clouds of circling dust arise. now lost is all that formidable air, the face divine and long descending hair, purple the ground, and streak the sable sand; deformed, dishonoured, in his native land, given to the rage of an insulting throng, and in his parents sight now dragged along. the mother first beheld with sad survey, she rent her tresses venerably gray: and cast far off the regal veils away. with piercing shriek his bitter fate she moans, while the sad father answers groans with groans; tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, and the whole city wears one face of woe." homer. after this barbarous act, achilles, led by destiny, obtained sight of polyxena, the daughter of priam, in the temple of apollo. [illustration] availing himself of treachery, paris basely slew him by shooting him in the heel, the only part not rendered invulnerable, by being washed in the river styx. when achilles died, the greeks erected a superb tomb to his memory upon the shores of the hellespont, and after the taking of troy, polyxena was sacrificed to the manes of achilles. so glorious had been his arms, that ajax and ulysses disputed for them, and they were given to the king of ithaca { } which so enraged ajax that he slew himself, and the blood which flowed from him was turned into a hyacinth. �neas, son of venus and anchises, took part in all the battles which preceded the fall of his country, and relates the stratagem by which the greeks gained possession of the city. repulsed in many assaults, they constructed an enormous horse of wood, and shut up in it the best and bravest of their soldiers. then pretending to raise the siege, they left it, and embarked, casting anchor near the isle of tenedos. the trojans, happy to see their sails retreating from their shores, left their walls to look at the immense machine which remained behind. some proposed to destroy it. the most superstitious demanded on the contrary, that it should be conducted to the city, and offered to minerva. laocoon, grand priest of neptune, in the spirit of prophecy, told them to destroy it, and to doubt the gift of an enemy. vainly he cried, "fear the greeks and their gifts!" they would not listen to him. at this moment a greek named sinon was brought before them. this perfidious man said that his brothers in arms, irritated against him, had abandoned him, and that this horse was an offering made by the greeks, to moderate the anger of minerva, and to obtain from her a happy return. in vain did laocoon persist in his assertion that danger was near, and in vain was he commissioned by the trojans to offer a bullock to neptune, to render him propitious. [illustration] during the sacrifice, two enormous serpents issued from the sea, and attacked laocoon's two sons, who stood next to the altar. the father immediately attempted to defend them, but the serpents coiling round him, squeezed him in their complicated wreaths, so that he died in the greatest torture. [illustration: the anger of priam.] { } --------"by scamander when laocoon stood, where troy's proud turrets glittered in the flood, raised high his arm and with prophetic call to shrinking realms announced her fated fall; whirled his fierce spear with more than mortal force, and pierced the thick ribs of the echoing horse; two serpent forms incumbent on the main lashing the white waves with their redundant train, arched their blue necks, and shook their towering crests, and ploughed their foamy way with speckled breasts; then, darting fierce amid the affrighted throngs, rolled their red eyes, and shot their forked tongues.-- --two daring youths to guard the hoary sire, thwart their dread progress, and provoke their ire, round sire and sons the scaly monsters rolled, ring above ring in many a tangled fold, close and more close their writhing limbs surround, and fix with foamy teeth the envenomed wound. with brow upturned to heaven the holy sage in silent agony sustains their rage; while each fond youth, in vain, with piercing cries bends on the tortured sire his dying eyes." darwin. "laocoon's torture, dignifying pain-- a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending:--vain the struggle; vain, against the coiling strain and gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, the old man's clench; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links,--the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." byron. the trojans following the advice of sinon, beat down part of the wall to make an entrance for the horse into the city; they then celebrated the deliverance of their country with feasts and festivals. aided by the darkness of night the greek ships left tenedos and set sail with all haste towards troy. their soldiers disembarked, and penetrated through the breach which had been made to admit the horse. at the same time the warriors that were hidden within the colossal structure appeared, spreading slaughter and devastation all over the city. �neas awoke, put on his arms, and ran to the palace of priam, in time to see, but not to save, the aged monarch, his daughters, and his sons, from falling beneath the edge of the sword. he then sought to rally the trojans, and make head against the { } enemy, but when he abandoned himself to feelings of grief and rage at not being able, his mother made known to him the uselessness of his efforts. [illustration] �neas followed the council of venus. he awoke his father anchises, placed the old man on his shoulders, took the young ascanius, his son, by the hand, and led him away from the tumult, giving him in charge to creusa, his wife, telling her to follow closely, and not to leave him. the unfortunate woman, however, lost sight of him, and was put to death by the greeks. after a vain search to find creusa, the hero joined the trojans that survived, and all retired to mount ida, where they constructed a fleet of twenty vessels, in which they set sail, endeavouring to find out a new country. the conquerors razed troy to the ground, and divided the plunder. the widows and daughters of the trojan princes who were left behind, were obliged to remain in the country. several of them, famed for beauty, inspired their masters with passions which manifested themselves in quarrels, finishing by many a bloody catastrophe. among this number was andromache, widow of hector, and mother of astyanax. she fell to the share of { } neoptolemus, but though she conceived an aversion for him, the widow of hector promised her hand to him, on condition that he would save the life of her son, which was menaced by the greeks: and accompanied into epirus the ambassadors sent to claim from pyrrhus the last scion of a foeman's race; orestes, the ambassador, explained to the king the object of his mission, he was met by a stern refusal, which so irritated the warrior, that he stabbed pyrrhus for attempting that which he designated a base treason. [illustration] following the fortunes of ulysses--scarcely had he quitted the phrygian shores, than he and his companions became the sport of neptune and juno, and a crowd of miseries beset them. at length, after a thousand reverses on the seas, a tempest precipitated his vessel on a rock, he saved himself on a floating wreck, and was driven by the waves towards the shores of the isle of the phæacians. he saw on the shores the beautiful nausica, who took him to king alcinous, her father, from whom he received every hospitality. at the end of the repast to which he had been invited, he related his wonderful adventures. he told of his arrival in the country of the lotophagi, people who lived on lotos, and of the frightful dangers he encountered in the isle of cyclops. "the land of cyclops first, a savage kind, nor tamed by manner, nor by laws confined: untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and sow; they all their products to free nature owe. the soil untill'd a ready harvest yields, with wheat and barley wave the golden fields, { } spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour, and jove descends in each prolific shower. by these no statutes and no rights are known, no council held, no monarch fills the throne. but high on hills, or airy cliffs, they dwell, or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell. each rules his race, his neighbour not his care, heedless of others, to his own severe." homer. polyphemus, whose one eye expressed a savage ferocity, shut up ulysses and his companions in a cavern, where he kept his sheep. in the morning polyphemus came, took two sailors and devoured them; at his repast in the evening he took two more. ulysses, horrified at his danger, thought how he could avoid it. he amused the cyclop by his recitals; and by giving him intoxicating drink, the monster slept; then, assisted by his companions, he put out his eye. ulysses had provided for their escape, for fastening himself under the stomach of a sheep when it was going to the fields, and ordering his companions to follow his example, they escaped the rage of the cyclop, who could only indulge his wrath by throwing at random large pieces of rock after their vessel, which was bearing them quickly away from the scene of their danger. [illustration] he arrived in the isle of �olia, where reigned �olus, king of the winds. this monarch treated him with much kindness, and to assure him a prosperous voyage, he gave him, enclosed in a leather bottle, all the dangerous winds. the vessels went first to the { } borders of ithaca, when the companions of ulysses opened the leather bottle, believing that a precious wine was contained in it, all the winds escaped, and a furious tempest convulsed the sea. the vessels were thrown upon the coast of the lestrigones, who ate human flesh. two greeks were devoured by them. in alarm the vessels again put to sea, and they landed in an isle where abode circe, a famous magician. when he had anchored, he sent some of his men on shore, to discover what place it was, but circe gave them drink under pretence of refreshing them, which transformed them into swine. one only tasted not of the enchanted drink, and escaped to acquaint ulysses with the strange metamorphose. ulysses was astonished and resolved to seek the witch in person: and, provided with a certain herb, to preserve himself from witchcraft, he went to her with his drawn sword, to compel her to restore his companions to their previous shapes. the fascinations of circe proved more powerful than the sword of ulysses, and he staid with her on the island, in the enjoyment of her society, for the space of a year. after concluding his eventful history, he remained some time with alcinous, who gave him a ship, which carried him safely to ithaca. it was now the twentieth year of the absence of ulysses from his home, during which time his wife had held him in continual remembrance, and though she had been pressed by her numerous suitors to consider him as dead and make a second choice, yet she retained such faithful love for her husband, with such a full and prophetic assurance that she should once more see him, that all their efforts to influence her were vain. in order to put them off more effectually, she undertook to make a piece of cloth, promising that when it was finished, she would choose one of her numerous suitors: but the better to deceive them, she undid at night that which she worked in the day, so that when ulysses arrived, she was no nearer its completion than at first. meanwhile ulysses scarcely knew how to discover himself with safety to his own person, fearing that he might be slain by those who were suitors to his wife. by the advice of minerva, he disguised himself as a beggar, first making himself known to telemachus, and one of the old officers of the kingdom. in the same disguise he introduced himself to penelope, by whom { } he was received with joy; and with the assistance of his friends, who flocked around him, he entered in possession of his throne. [illustration] but still his mind was uneasy and disturbed, as tyresias, the soothsayer, had informed him that he should be killed by one of his sons. to prevent this misery, he determined to forsake the world, and retire into some solitary place, to end his days in peace. about that time, telegonus, one of his sons by circe, came to his city to pay unto him his respects; and, as he was striving to enter the palace, there arose a great tumult, the officers of the place refusing him admission; at this moment ulysses stepped out, and telegonus not knowing him, ran him through with his lance, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the soothsayer. * * * * * �neas. charged to save himself from the wreck of troy, and to accomplish the decrees of fate, �neas embarked with a small band in twenty vessels, which juno however pursued with her wrath. �olus obedient to the goddess, dispersed the fleet and menaced them with complete destruction. neptune appeared, and the winds were silent. �neas, however, found himself separated from the greater part of his companions, seven only of whom remained with him. he landed on an unknown shore and venus informed him, that { } the rest of his companions were in safety. �neas, hidden in a cloud went to the palace of dido, queen of carthage, a new town in which this queen had built the most gorgeous edifices; in one of which, where she gave to him a splendid entertainment, the hero related to her the history of the siege of troy and his own adventures. the glowing language and animating gestures of the young prince, together with the high deeds which he announced, won the heart of dido. nor was �neas long in perceiving the love felt for him by the beautiful listener, and yielding himself to her charms, staid with her for a considerable time in the enjoyment of all that renders life desirable. jupiter, however, grew dissatisfied with �neas, despatched mercury to him to command him to leave africa, to try the destiny which called him to italy. in vain dido endeavoured to stop him, she saw in �neas a man resolved to leave her, and she loaded him with the curses and reproaches of an infuriated and forsaken lover. [illustration] unable to bear life in the prospect of a desertion so infamous, she prepared a funeral pile, determined to immolate herself; mounting with a calm resolution she gave way to her despair. { } "what shall i do? what succour can i find? shall i with this ungrateful trojan go, forsake an empire to attend a foe? himself i refuged and his train relieved, 'tis true, but am i sure to be received? can gratitude in trojan souls have place? laomedon still lives in all his race! then shall i seek alone the flying crew, or with my fleet their flying souls pursue? rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, and take the fortune thou thyself hast made!" dryden. with one strong blow she smote herself to the heart, and fell dead upon the pile she had erected. [illustration] "then swiftly to the fatal place she passed, and mounts the funeral pile with furious haste; unsheathes the sword the trojan left behind, not for so dire an enterprize designed; but when she viewed the garb so loosely spread, which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed, she saw and with a sigh the robes embraced, then on the couch her trembling body cast, repressed the ready tears and spoke her last; 'dear pledges of my love, while heaven so pleased, receive a soul of mortal anguish eased. my fatal course is finished, and i go, a glorious name among the ghosts below,' { } then kissed the couch 'and must i die,' she said, 'and unrevenged, 'tis doubly to be dead; yet even this death with pleasure i receive, on any terms 'tis better than to live; these flames from far, may the false trojan view, these boding omens, his false flight pursue!' she said and struck; deep entered in her side, the piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed, clogged in the wound, the cruel weapon stands; the spouting blood came streaming on her hands; her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke and with loud cries, the sounding palace shook. thrice dido tried to raise her drooping head, and, panting, thrice fell grovelling on the bed. thrice ope'd her heavy eyes, and saw the light, but having found it, sickened at the sight, and closed her lids at last in endless night." dryden. * * * * * allegorical divinities. [illustration] the ancients, following the inspirations of an undisciplined imagination, deified alike virtues, vices, and evil principles. these divinities, the number of whom was constantly increasing, had both altars and temples consecrated to them: and from this kind of god, poets, painters, and sculptors have taken ideas, and have blended the deity and the virtue in beautiful unison, giving to them new and delightful charms. virtue daughter of truth, is represented clothed in white, as an emblem of purity; sometimes holding a sceptre, at others crowned with { } laurel; while she is in many instances drawn with wings, and placed upon a block of marble, to intimate her immoveable firmness. truth daughter of jupiter and saturn, is the parent of justice and of virtue. the great apelles has represented her, in his painting of calumny, under the appearance of a modest female; in her hand is placed a round mirror. ancient writers say, that she was for a long time hidden from the world at the bottom of a well, but leaving its quiet on one occasion, she was scared at the reception she met with, and returned to her hiding place, which is intended to intimate, according to democritus, the difficulty with which she is discovered. honour. the emblems of this god are, the crown of laurel, the lance, and the horn of plenty; though he is sometimes represented, instead of arms, with the olive branch of peace, as the reward of bravery. at rome he had two temples; one founded by marcellus, at the same time with the one to virtue. an augur having warned marcellus that these two divinities would not dwell in the circumference of the same temple, he built the two distinct edifices to which we have alluded; but, to arrive at the temple of honour, it was necessary to pass through that of virtue. peace. this daughter of jupiter and themis, wears a crown of laurel; in her hand is a branch of the olive-tree, and against her side the statue of plutus, to intimate that peace gives rise to prosperity and opulence. venus and the graces were her companions, and an altar was erected to her at athens; but at rome, the capital in which the god of war was also peculiarly honoured, several altars were dedicated to her, one of the most magnificent of which was raised by vespasian, after the war of judea, and contained all the treasures taken from the temple at jerusalem, consisting of a splendid library, busts, statues and pictures; with an enormous quantity of natural curiosities. this temple was however consumed in the reign of commodus, previous to which it was customary for men of learning to assemble { } there, and even to deposit their most valuable writings as a place of peculiar safety; and, consequently the loss which took place when it was consumed, could scarcely be estimated. [illustration] fidelity was adored even before romulus and numa had given laws to their people; and the oath sworn in her name was regarded by them as inviolable. she is represented clothed in white, with clasped hands. her priests were dressed in a white cloth during her public ceremonies; but victims were not sacrificed upon her altar, because she was deemed inflexible, and could not yield to prayers, however urgent. two hands, joined together, are the emblems of faith, given and received. friendship the greeks represented clothed in a clasped garment, her head bare, her bosom revealed near the heart, holding in the left hand an elm, around which a vine, filled with grapes, is clinging. at rome, she was a young maiden with a white robe, her bosom half bare, her head adorned with myrtle and pomegranate flowers intermixed. on the border of her tunic was written "death and life,"--on her front "summer and winter."--her side was opened, and the heart visible, bearing these words, "far and near." { } liberty wears sometimes a cap, with a rod in her hand, both signs of independence, as the latter was used by the magistrates in the manumission of slaves, and the cap was worn by those who were to be soon liberated, while at other times she appears in a chariot. she is, however, more frequently represented holding the book of the laws, and in her hand a sword with which to defend them. [illustration] a temple was raised to her by gracchus on mount aventine, adorned with elegant statues and brazen columns, with a gallery in which were deposited the public acts of the state. victory. styx, daughter of ocean and thetis, was the mother of victory. this deity attended at the conquests of all countries and of all heroes. at italy and greece, temples were elevated to her; at greece she was named nice, and sylla instituted festivals in her honour at the former place. in the temple of jupiter, on the capitoline hill, a golden statue of the goddess was placed, weighing three hundred and twenty pounds. a thunderbolt having fallen on the statue and broken its wings, pompey restored the courage of the people, who were dejected at the accident, by crying, "romans! the gods have broken the wings of victory; henceforth she cannot escape from us." { } victory, by the commands of her mother, aided jupiter in his battle with the titans; and the monarch of olympus to reward her powerful services, decreed that the gods should swear by her, and that those who violated the oath, should be exiled ten years from the celestial court, and deprived of the nectar and ambrosia of olympus. voluptuousness is a female figure, nearly naked, her hair wreathed with roses, and her face and form, full, but exquisitely developed. [illustration] in her hand is a cup of gold, from which a serpent is drinking, while around her are supposed to exist all the luxuries which attend her reign. she was the goddess of sensual pleasures, and had a temple at rome, where she was worshipped under the title of volupia. calumny and envy are the daughters of night, and though poets have been peculiarly the victims of these evils, yet they have frequently celebrated them in their verses; nor could more important engines in the mischiefs which arose in the world be well chosen; for, from calumny, which is the offspring of falsehood, arises crushed hearts and broken friendships--while of envy it has well been remarked, "open your heart once to receive her as a guest, and farewell to joy, peace, and contentment." { } famine is the daughter of night, and inhabited the infernal regions, though the lacedemonians dedicated to her an altar in the temple of minerva. [illustration] she is drawn miserable, pale, wan, meagre, and dejected: her eyes hollow and sunken, her complexion of a leaden hue, her teeth yellow, and her whole appearance worn and melancholy. discord, daughter of night, is the mother of a family of evils, almost too numerous to mention. having been refused admission to the nuptials of thetis and peleus, it is said that it was she, who, to revenge herself, threw on the table among the festal company, the apple, with the inscription, "to the most beautiful." this apple was the origin of the trojan war, and of innumerable misfortunes to the greeks. the goddess is represented with a pale and ghastly look, her garments torn, her eyes sparkling with fire, holding a dagger concealed in her bosom. her head is generally enwreathed with serpents, and she is imagined to be the cause of all the miseries, dissensions, and quarrels, which fall upon the inhabitants of the earth. { } we have now enumerated the most remarkable of the allegorical divinities, the number being too great to mention all. for the same reason we must omit the crowd of emperors, kings, and princes, who, having the folly to believe themselves gods, found mortals sufficiently weak to grant them faith, and to accord them homage. in concluding the greek mythology, however, we must mention several fables, which are so intimately connected therewith, as almost to form part of its history. * * * * * philemon and baucis. philemon and baucis were an aged couple, of phrygia, who, unblessed by the goods of fortune, found in their mutual and deep affection, a happiness, which nothing could overwhelm. ----------------------"there had lived long married and a happy pair now old in love, tho' little was their store, inured to want, their poverty they bore, nor aimed at wealth, professing to be poor." as they were sitting together, enjoying the sweets of mutual affection, two travellers, with a melancholy and impoverished appearance, after having asked hospitality, and been refused by the inhabitants of the village, sought refuge under their humble roof. unaccustomed to visitors, they were, however, received by them with kindness, and invited to partake of a modest repast. as they sate in kind communion, the forms of those whom they entertained suddenly changed, and they beheld jupiter and mercury in the place of the miserable beings they had received; the ancient couple throwing themselves on their knees, offered to their guests the deep homage of their hearts. the gods were pleased with their entertainment; but could not forget the inhospitality with which they had been received by their countrymen, and let loose the waves, and sent the thunderbolt to consume the town and its inhabitants. philemon and baucis, were, however, saved, and a superb temple replaced their lowly dwelling, of which they were made the priests. they lived long and happily, and having entreated jupiter that neither might outlive the other, they both died on the same day, and their bodies were changed into trees, and placed before the { } door of the temple which had arisen on the ruins of their lowly cottage. "lost in a lake the floated level lies; a watery desert covers all the plains, their cot alone, as on an isle, remains wond'ring with weeping eyes, while they deplore their neighbours' fate, and country now no more, their little shed, scarce large enough for two, seems, from the ground, in height and bulk to grow a stately temple shoots within the skies, the crotchets of their cot in columns rise, the pavement polished marble they behold, the gates with sculpture graced, the spires and roof of gold!" ovid. * * * * * pyramus and thisbe. [illustration] pyramus and thisbe were two young thebans, who, being greatly enamoured of one another, had their union opposed by their friends, between the families of whom there had been a variance for many years. "but to prevent their wandering in the dark, they both agree to fix upon a mark; a mark that could not their designs expose: the tomb of venus was the mark they chose; there they might rest secure beneath the shade, which boughs, with snowy fruit encumbered, made. a wide spread mulberry tree its rise had took just in the margin of a gurgling brook." ovid. they determined, however, if possible, to elude the vigilance of their persecutors, and agreed to meet outside the walls of the city, under the mulberry tree which grew there, and then to celebrate { } their union. thisbe was the first who arrived at the place appointed, when the sudden arrival of a lioness so frightened her, that she fled away, dropping her veil in her flight. this the lioness smeared with blood, and then disappeared, leaving it under the trysting tree. in a short time pyramus arrived, but found that she, for whom he looked, was absent: the bloody veil alone met his anxious gaze, which he instantly recognized, and concluded that she had been torn to pieces by wild beasts. in his despair he drew his sword and killed himself. when the fears of thisbe were passed away, she returned to the mulberry tree, but found only the lifeless remains of her lover. in the agony which overcame her, she fell upon the weapon with which pyramus had destroyed himself, and joined him in his endless rest. "but when her view the bleeding love confessed, she shrieked, she tore her hair, she beat her breast, she raised the body, and embraced it round, and bathed with tears unfeigned, the gaping wound, then her warm lips to the cold face applied-- 'and is it thus, ah! thus we meet,' she cried my pyramus, whence sprang thy cruel fate? my pyramus; ah! speak, ere 'tis too late: i, thy own thisbe; but one word implore, one word thy thisbe never asked before! fate, though it conquers, shall no triumph gain, fate, that divides us, still divides in vain. now, both our cruel parents, hear my prayer, my prayer to offer for us both i dare, o see our ashes in one urn confined, whom love at first, and fate at last, has joined. thou tree, where now one lifeless lump is laid, ere long o'er two shall cast a friendly shade, still let our loves from thee be understood, still witness, in thy purple fruit our blood-- she spoke, and in her bosom plunged the sword all warm, and reeking from its slaughtered lord." ovid. * * * * * acis and galatea. polyphemus, the most dreadful and hideous of the cyclops, loved galatea, one of the beautiful race of the sea-nymphs. day by day, did the giant sit by the side of a fountain, neglecting his flocks, and murmuring love songs the most touching and impassioned; while he adorned his person and endeavoured to render himself as agreeable, by these and other means, to his nymph as possible. { } galatea treated all his attentions with disrespect, and bestowed her affections upon acis; meeting him in secret in a grotto, there enjoying the sweet society of one another, unsuspicious of the danger which threatened them. ------------------"acis knelt at galatea's feet. she gazed awhile, one delicate hand was pressed against her cheek, that flushed with pleasure, and her dark hair streamed shadowing the brightness of her fixed eye, which on the young sicilian shepherd's face shone like a star-- 'twas strange that she, a high sea-nymph should leave, her watery palaces, and coral caves, her home, and all immortal company, to dwell with him, a simple shepherd boy." barry cornwall. polyphemus, however, discovered their retreat, and with it, the cause of all the scorn and indifference, with which he had been treated. ----------------"at once he saw his rival, and the nymph he loved so well, twined in each other's arms. 'away,' he cried, 'away thou wanton nymph, and thou, my slave. earth born and base, thou--thou whom i could shake to atoms, as the tempest scatters abroad the sea-sand tow'rd the skies, away, away!'" acis came forth from his retreat, and polyphemus threw an enormous rock upon him, which crushed him beneath its weight. ----------------"the shepherd boy, he felt the cyclop's wrath, for on his head the mighty weight descended: not a limb, or bone, or fragment, or a glossy hair, remained of all his beauty." galatea was in despair, and as she could not restore him to life, she changed him into a river, on the banks of which, she could still sport at even time, and sing to her beautiful, but lost love. --------------------"she changed, as grecian fables say, the shepherd boy into a stream, and on its banks would lie, and utter her laments in such a tone, as might have moved the rocks, and then would call upon the murdered acis. he the while ran to the sea, but oft on summer nights noises were heard, and plaintive music like, the songs you hear in sicily--shepherd swains for many an age would lie by that lone stream, and from its watery melodies catch an air, and tune it to their simple instruments." barry cornwall. * * * * * { } hero and leander. [illustration] hero was a priestess of venus, at sestos, whom leander met during one of the festivals held annually at the fane of the goddess, in honour of adonis. "as thro' the temple passed the sestian maid, her face a softened dignity displayed; and as she shone superior to the rest, in the sweet bloom of youth and beauty dress'd, such softness, tempered with majestic mien, the earthly priestess matched the heavenly queen." the appearance of hero inflamed the bosom of leander, nor was he long in expressing his love to the beautiful being who had won it. in the very temple of the goddess, whose priestess she was, and while warmed with the rites at which she had been assisting, leander avowed his passion. "her lily hand he seized, and gently pressed, and softly sighed the passion of his breast, then to the temples last recess conveyed the unreluctant, unresisting maid, silent she stood, and wrapt in thought profound, her modest eyes were fixed upon the ground, her cheeks she hid, in rosy blushes drest, and veiled her lily shoulders with her vest." mus�us. the earnest wooing of leander was assisted by the boy-god, and hero, won by his passionate pleading, and by a love as strong as it was sudden, consented to become his bride. ------------------"how more than sweet, that moment, as he knelt at hero's feet, breathing his passion in each thrilling word, only by lovers said, and lovers heard." l. e. l. before they parted, she told him of her place of abode over the broad hellespont, which he must cross, ere he could enjoy her society, and pointed out the spot to which he should look at night for a torch to guide his way. { } "dimly and slowly the hours passed by, until leander saw day's bright orb disappear: he thought of hero and the lost delight, her last embracings, and the space between; he thought of hero, and the future night, her speechless rapture, and enamoured mien." keats. at last the twilight came, followed by the darkness of night, and the bright star of venus alone looked down on the expectant lover. he saw not the dark rush of helle's wave, he heard not the fierce sweep of its waters; he thought only of the beautiful bride, who had sate watching, and waiting for the weary sun to go down; when, lo "her turret torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea birds warned him home; and clouds aloft, and tides below, with sighs, and sounds, forbade to go; he could not see, he would not hear, or sound or sign foreboding fear; his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves divide not lovers long!'" with a strong hand and anxious heart, the husband-lover dashed aside the impetuous waves; and sought and gained in safety the shore which the blazing light had signalled. and, oh! the tenderness of that meeting; the obstacles which intervened added an additional zest, and the waves seemed to have nerved the youth to a higher excitement, as he gazed on hero. but the sorrowful morning came, and ------------------"they parted, but they met again-- the blue sea rolled between them--but in vain! leander had no fear, he cleft the wave, what is the peril fond hearts will not brave! delicious were their moonlight wanderings, delicious were the kind, the gentle things each to the other breathed; a starry sky, music and flowers, this is earth's luxury. the measure of its happiness is full, when all around, like it, is beautiful. there were sweet birds to count the hours, and roses, like those on which a blushing cheek reposes, violets as fresh as violets could be; stars over head, with each a history of love told by its light; and waving trees and perfumed breathings upon every breeze." l. e. l. but their intercourse was soon stopped, it seemed too beautiful { } for earth; leander, however, thought not of this, but with the enthusiastic ardour of youth, looked forward to a long life of delights. the day to him was a dull blank, and was employed in watching the spot, where at night he saw the beacon which cheered his way. but alas! the change came too soon. --------------------"one night the sky, as if with passion, darkened angrily, and gusts of wind swept o'er the troubled main like hasty threats, and then were calm again; that night, young hero by her beacon kept her silent watch, and blamed the night and wept, and scarcely dared to look upon the sky; yet lulling still her fond anxiety." l. e. l. morning came, and came after a night of such terror, as but rarely is known to mortals; for the first time leander had not sought her bower, and an indistinct shadow brooded over her mind, of some vague, uncertain dread, as she wandered down to the sea shore. "her heart sick with its terror, and her eye, roving in tearful, dim uncertainty. not long uncertain,--she marked something glide, shadowy and indistinct upon the tide; on rushed she in that desperate energy, which only has to know, and knowing, die-- --it was leander!" l. e. l. the melancholy tale is told; storm nor tempest had power to keep the husband from his wife, and in the wildness of his struggles for life, when hope was gone and despair succeeded, his last glance sought the watch light in abydos, and his last sigh was given to the fond being who looked in vain from its rocky strand. * * * * * pygmalion was a statuary, celebrated in cyprus for the exquisite skill of his statues. he became disgusted to such a degree with the debauchery of the females of amathus, that he resolved never to marry, but to devote himself to his art. in this he became so proficient, that his marble busts seemed almost like life--and one, the figure of a female, was regarded by him with such affection that he grew deeply enamoured of it, { } worshipping it with all the devotion which mortals usually pay to woman. the passion increased, and the gods, pitying his despair, changed the statue into that of a beautiful female, whom he married, and had by her a son called paphos, who founded the town of the same name in cyprus. "there was a statuary, one who loved and worshipped the white marble that he shaped; till, as the story goes, the cyprus' queen, or some such fine, kind hearted deity, touched the pale stone with life, and it became at last pygmalion's bride." barry cornwall. * * * * * sappho and phaon. the story of sappho and of phaon has become almost, if not quite as well known, as that of hero and leander. sappho was celebrated for her beauty and her poetical talents, all of which she bestowed in love on phaon. "a youth so shaped, with such a mien, a form like that of jove serene, with sparkling eyes, and flowing hair, and wit, that ever charms the fair." he gave himself up for a time to the pleasure of her society, but man was as fickle then as now, and he grew tired, even conceiving a disdain for her who had so quickly given herself to his arms. to a mind like sappho's, finely wrought, as that of poets usually are, this became insupportable; life was a burthen; song, now that the one had gone whose praise she valued more than all beside, became neglected; and in a fit of insupportable madness she threw herself into the sea. "from leucadia's promontory flung herself headlong for the lesbian boy, (ungrateful he to work her such annoy;) but time hath as in sad requital, given a branch of laurel to her, and some bard swears that a heathen god or goddess gave her swan-like wings wherewith to fly to heaven. and now, at times, when gloomy tempests roar along the adriatic, in the waves she dips her plumes, and on the watery shore sings as the love-crazed sappho sung of yore." barry cornwall. { } of all her compositions, but two now remain; which, fragments as they are, shew by their uncommon sweetness and beauty, how worthily the praises of the ancients were bestowed upon a poet, whom they even ventured to call the tenth muse. "then came a dark browed spirit, on whose head laurel and withering roses loosely hung: she held a harp, amongst whose chords her hand wandered for music--and it came. she sang a song despairing, and the whispering winds seemed envious of her melody and streamed amidst the wires to rival her, in vain. short was the strain but sweet: methought it spoke of broken hearts, and still and moonlight seas, of love, and loneliness, and fancy gone, and hopes decayed for ever: and my ear caught well remembered names, 'leucadia's rock,' at times, and 'faithless phaon:' then the form passed not, but seemed to melt in air away: this was the lesbian sappho." barry cornwall. the lesbians were so enraptured with her strains, that they raised her to divine honours, and erected a temple to her, and even stamped their money with her image. "thou! whose impassioned face the poet loves to trace, theme of the sculptor's art, and poet's story, how many a wandering thought thy loveliness hath brought, warming the heart with its imagined glory! yet, was it history's truth. that tale of wasted youth, of endless grief, and love forsaken, pining? what wert thou, thou whose woe the old traditions show, with fame's cold light around thee vainly shining! did'st thou indeed sit there in languid lone despair? thy harp neglected by thee idly lying? thy soft and earnest gaze, watching the lingering rays, in the far west, where summer-day was dying? did'st thou, as day by day, rolled heavily away, and left thee anxious, nerveless and dejected, wandering thro' bowers beloved, roving where he had roved, yearn for his presence, as for one expected? did'st thou, with fond wild eyes fix'd on the starry skies, wait feverishly for each new day to waken? trusting some glorious morn might witness his return, { } unwilling to believe thyself forsaken? and when contrition came, chilling that heart of flame, did'st thou, o saddest of earth's grieving daughters, from the lucadian steep, dash, with a desperate leap, and hide thyself within the whelming waters? such is the tale they tell, vain was thy beauty's spell-- vain all the praise thy song could still inspire, though many a happy band, rung with less skilful hand, the borrowed love notes of thy echoing lyre. fame, to thy breaking heart, no comfort could impart, in vain thy brow the laurel wreath was wearing; one grief and one alone could bow thy bright head down, --thou wert a woman, and wert left despairing!" mrs. norton. * * * * * numa pompilius. this hero was born on the very day that romulus laid the foundation of the roman city: he married tatia, the daughter of the sabine king, whom however he had the misfortune to lose; owing to which, he retired into the country that he might devote his time more uninterruptedly to study. when, upon the death of romulus, he was chosen by the senators to be their sovereign, it was with great difficulty that he could be persuaded to undertake the onerous task, which, however, he filled to the satisfaction of his subjects, dismissing the body guards who usually attended upon the roman emperor, thus showing he had no distrust of his subjects. his great object was to quell the spirit of war and conquest which he found in the people, and to inculcate the love of peace, with a reverence for the deity, whose worship by images he forbade, and established a priesthood for it, the effect of which was to prevent any graven images or statues from appearing in their sanctuaries for upwards of one hundred and thirty years. this wise monarch, aware that superstition is one of the greatest engines in governing a people, encouraged a report that he regularly visited the nymph egeria, who indeed, according to ovid, became his wife. { } in her name he introduced all his laws and regulations into the state, and solemly declared in the presence of his people, that they were sanctified by the approval of that being, an approval, which gave them additional favour in the eyes of this superstitious people. at his death, which took place after a reign of forty-three years, not only the romans, but the neighbouring nations were anxious to pay their testimony of reverence to a monarch, whom they could not help respecting no less for his abilities, than for his moderation in the application of them. he forbade the romans to burn his body, after their usual custom, but ordered them to bury it near mount jerusalem, with some of the books which he had written, which being accidentally found four hundred years after his death, were burned by order of the senate. they are stated merely to have contained the reasons why he had made the innovations into the ceremonies of their religion. "egeria! sweet creation of some heart, which found no mortal resting place so fair as thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art or wert,--a young aurora of the air, the nympholepsy of some fond despair; or it might be, a beauty of the earth, who found a more than common votary there too much adoring; whatso'er thy birth, thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth here did'st thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy, and seating thyself by thine adorer, what befel? this cave was surely shaped out for the greeting of an enamoured goddess, and the cell haunted by holy love--the earliest oracle! and did'st thou not, thy breast to his replying, blend a celestial with a human heart; and love, which dies as it was born, in sighing, share with immortal transports? could thine art make them indeed immortal, and impart the purity of heaven to earthly joys, expel the venom and not blunt the dart-- the dull satiety which all destroys-- and root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?" byron. * * * * * { } cadmus. cadmus was the son of agenor, and brother of europa, who was carried away by jupiter in the likeness of a bull; this prince being ordered by his father never to return if he was unable to find and bring back his sister; he at last consulted the oracle of delphos, to obtain its assistance in accomplishing his mission. [illustration] "look no longer for thy sister," replied apollo, "but follow the first cow which presents itself to thy sight, and wherever that shall stop, build a city for thee and thy successors." cadmus obeyed and was guided in this manner towards boeotia, which he founded. previous to this, wishing to thank the gods by a sacrifice, he sent his companions to fetch some water from a neighbouring grove; becoming alarmed at their delay, he went in search of them, and found they had desecrated a fountain sacred to mars, and that the dragon which presided over it had slain them. he arrived but just in time to witness him finishing the meal, which had followed their destruction. in fierce despair cadmus attacked, and by the aid of minerva overcame the monster, he then sowed the teeth of the dragon in the plain, upon which armed men rose suddenly from the ground. in his alarm he threw a stone at them, and they instantly attacked one another, leaving only five, who assisted him in building the city. he soon after married hermione, the daughter of venus; and had by her four sons and four daughters, whom juno, out of hatred to venus, cruelly persecuted. { } cadmus was the first who introduced the use of letters into greece, though others maintain that the alphabet brought by him from phoenicia, was only different from that used by the ancient inhabitants of greece. it was composed of seventeen letters, and to these were added some time after, by palamedes, an additional four, and by simonides of melos, also, the same number. in addition to the alphabet, by which the name of cadmus has become renowned, he introduced likewise, the worship of many of the egyptian and phoenician deities, to the inhabitants of greece, into which country, he is believed to have come about one thousand four hundred and ninety years before the christian era. in stories so remote, it is difficult to separate the true from the false, and still more so to give a plausible explanation of apparent incongruities: it has, however, been suggested, that the dragon's fable, arose from some country which cadmus conquered; that the armed men who are stated to have arisen from the field, were men armed with brass, a crop very likely to arise from the attempted subjection of a free country. we have now related the most celebrated fables in the mythology of the greeks and romans, without asserting that we have given all of them, some of which would be out of keeping in a work meant to be placed in the hands of youth, while others are not sufficiently authenticated, or do not bear sufficient interest, to induce us to present them to our readers. [illustration] { } bellerophon was son of glaucus, king of corinth, and named at first hipponous. the murder of beller, his brother, by him, procured his second name of bellerophon or the murderer of beller; after he had committed which, he fled to the court of proetus, king of argos, where being of a noble and fine person, he won the affections of the wife of the king; he refused to listen to her passion, and in revenge he was accused by her to her husband, of attempting her virtue. proetus, was very unwilling to trespass upon the laws of hospitality by punishing him, but sent him with a letter to jobates the father of his queen, entreating him to put to death the man who would have insulted the honour of his daughter. jobates to satisfy his son-in-law, sent beller to attack a monster called chimæra, in the full expectation that he would be destroyed. by the assistance of minerva, however, who lent him pegasus the winged horse, he succeeded in conquering the monster, and returned victorious to the court of jobates. [illustration] after this he was sent on various expeditions of great danger, in all of which he was so successful, that jobates imagined he was { } under the protection of the gods, and gave him the hand of his daughter cassandra in marriage, naming him as his successor to the throne. it has been asserted by some that he attempted to fly to olympus upon pegasus, but that jupiter sent an insect which stung the horse, who threw his rider headlong to the earth; and that for many years he remained melancholy, languishing, and full of pain and weakness. * * * * * milo was one of the most celebrated of the greek wrestlers, who having early accustomed himself to carry great burthens, became so strong, that nothing seemed too much for his vast efforts. it is recorded of him that he carried on his shoulders a young bullock, four years old, for more than forty yards, that he then killed it with a blow of his fist, and to crown the feat, afterwards eat it up. this man was one of the disciples of pythagoras, whose life he had saved, by supporting the whole weight of the building on his shoulders, when the roof of the school in which he was teaching gave way. [illustration] in his old age a melancholy fate awaited him; for failing in an attempt to pull up a tree by the roots, his hands remained fast pinched in the tree, when a lion suddenly sprang upon him, which he was unable to escape, and fell beneath the fury of the beast. * * * * * { } the principal divinities of indian mythology. it is scarcely possible for any religion to possess a more metaphysical and abstract character, than the creeds of the various sects which distinguish india. they present, however, too much interest to enable us to dispense with a few of the leading ones among them, this work not having for its object a deep research into obscure mysteries, but is meant to excite useful and pleasing ideas, without entering into elaborate explanations. [illustration: brahma!] this deity, according to the hindoos, is the eternal, the creator! and is one of the three members of the indian trinity. previous to his commencing the grand work of creating the world, and all that it contains, he passed thirty six millions of years contemplating the panorama of chaos, which was spread out before him. he then produced seven starry spheres, the earth, and its two luminaries, with seven inferior regions, lit by the sparkling light of eight carbuncles, placed on the heads of the same number of serpents. he next proceeded to the creation of the beings who were to people it, in the accomplishment of which, he was aided by the pure spirits who surrounded him. { } the earth, being yet uninhabited, he made the first man and the first woman wherewith to people it. brahma is the object of the most ancient adoration of the brahmins; he is considered the intelligence who existed before time, and will continue throughout eternity: he watches over the events of each age and revolution of the universe; he is the power by which everything was created, and everything is sustained; he is the invisible head of the brahmins, and as such, is worshipped by them with devoted respect. the hindoos invoke him regularly morning and evening, and throw water from the palms of their hands upon the ground, and towards the sun, which they adore as the likeness of the eternal, while at mid-day, they renew their homage by the offer of a flower. the hindoo painters always represent brahma with four heads and four faces, analagous to the four cardinal points, and long beards descending from his four chins. in his four hands he holds the mysterious chain, to which are suspended the worlds, and the book of the law; the pencil to write it, and the fire of sacrifice. [illustration: vishnu.] vishnu, the second deity of the indian trinity, is considered as the preserver of the world, which brahma has created out of nothingness. he descended on the earth by a sacrifice of which he alone was capable, and to save it from certain ruin, submitted to all the weaknesses of humanity. he became teacher, warrior, and prophet, that he might leave to { } the world on his quitting it, the model of a man. he resided in the centre of the worlds, and all the worlds were in him. vishnu is usually represented near his wife, whom he enfolds in his arms. his complexion is blue, his eyes are like the flowers of the lotos, and his visage burns with an eternal youth. he is strong and vigorous in appearance, his four hands are sometimes raised, as if in the act of blessing the human race, while on his head is placed a triple storied crown. in the middle of his side sparkles the magnificent diamond in which all things are reflected; while garments of a costly price clothe his noble form. to him are consecrated the eagle, the hawk, and the bee; at his side is placed a fantastic kind of bird, a beautiful mixture of the man and of the eagle. the faith of vishnu is spread over all india. siva is the third person of the indian trinity, and is the destroyer, as opposed to brahma, who creates, and to vishnu, who preserves. according to the hindoos, who believe in the doctrine of metempsychosis, the spirit passes from one form to another. to be born, is to appear under a new shape; to die, is to appear no longer under the same form. but, as it is impossible to disown destruction, as regards material things, they admit the existence of a god, whose power was of a double nature, and who could destroy and produce at the same time. siva is drawn with five heads, four hands, and three eyes in his principal head. he is carried by a bull, and holds in his hands a trident and a dwarf stag. when they would paint him menacing and terrible, his sharp teeth start from his gums; fire breathes from his lips; and human sculls form his diadem. serpents are entwining round his waist; the sword and the lance sparkle in his hands, and the tiger has taken the place of the bull; while his body assumes the appearance of a white cinder, a terrible symbol of his implacable rage. buddh. this is the being from whom the enormous number of followers take their stand, under the title of bouddhism, and with whom { } christianity alone has the power of claiming an equal number of followers. the books of his priests signalize twelve great epochs in his career, classed and entitled as follows:-- . the celestial origin of buddh. . his miraculous and divine conception in the bosom of a mortal mother. . his birth. . his progress in wisdom. . his marriage and royal splendour. . his retreat from the world. . his life as a hermit. . his appearance, whereby he is known as a saint. . his predictions. . his victory over the six chiefs of the earth. . the end of his career. . his burial. the doctrine of this deity is founded on the principle that the universe is animated by one spirit, and recommends ten precepts, which are,-- . not to kill. . not to steal. . to be chaste. . not to bear false testimony. . not to speak untruly. . not to swear. . to avoid all impure words. . to be disinterested. . to forgive injuries. . not to be superstitious. this religion, all peace and all love, prescribes gentleness and pity, abolishing the brutalizing and tyrannical distinction of castes, and invites the world to peace, life eternal, and to the identification of spirits with the supreme essence. the grand lama is the supreme priest of one of the great parties of this church, which has its principal home in thibet; and the veneration of his votaries for this human representative of their god, is celebrated over europe. below this sovereign pontiff, are patriarchs charged with the spiritual government of the provinces; a council of lamas who { } assemble in conclave, and whose insignia answer to those of the cardinals of the roman church. they admit oral confession, and make prayers for the dead. the images of buddh are multiplied in great numbers in all the pagodas of india, of tartary, of china, and the countries of asia. he is represented on a mat, his limbs crossed, his bust stiff, and his head elevated in an imposing attitude, announcing both instruction and education. [illustration] in ordinary cases he is naked and of a black colour, and with the bosom of a female. near him are groups of domestic animals, in allusion to the gentleness of the worship of this deity, which forbids the shedding of blood. beside the superior gods whom we have described, the numerous populations of india recognize a crowd of secondary divinities, whose history approaches in many instances to those of the greek and roman deities, and if their legends offer an interest by their singularity, they prove at the same time, that the founders of these various faiths have sought to give them a character of obscurity, that they may agree with the general mysticism of the east. the fables of india, essentially metaphysical and philosophical, are less agreeable than those of the people of the west, who indulge their sensual ideas to a considerable extent. below the supreme being, whose belief is spread among all nations, are placed the embodyings of the principal god: then, (of { } an order still less important,) are placed idols of all kinds, and of all forms, adored by these ignorant and credulous people. [illustration] of the many deities of the second category, the most remarkable is ganga, who is the river ganges personified, a river sacred alone to the hindoos. "a stream descends in meru mountain, none hath seen its secret fountain; it had its birth, so sages say, upon the memorable day when parvati presumed to lay, in wanton play, her hands, too venturous goddess, in her mirth, on seeva's eyes, the light and life of earth. thereat the heart of the universe stood still; the elements ceased their influences; the hours stopt in the eternal round; motion and breath, time, change, and life, and death, in sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers. a moment and the dread eclipse was ended, but, at the thought of nature thus suspended, the sweat on seeva's forehead stood, and ganges thence upon the world descended, the holy river, the redeeming flood. none hath seen its secret fountain, but on the top of meru mountain which rises o'er the hills of earth, in light and clouds, it hath its mortal birth: earth seems that pinnacle to rear, sublime above this worldly sphere, its cradle, and its altar, and its throne: and there the new born river lies, outspread beneath its native skies, as if it there would love to dwell, alone and unapproachable." southey. to perform their ablutions in its waters, to die on its brink, to be thrown after death into its waves, are the supreme happiness of { } the disciples of vishnu and of brahma. the dying carcasses are generally abandoned to the current of the wave. the most famous of their places of worship is that point of the peninsula, where the ganges, suddenly abandoning the mountains, is precipitated down the plains of hindostan. a temple is elevated in the middle of the waters, and surmounted by two cupolas. [illustration] here are constantly assembled a large crowd of pilgrims, and a willing contribution is paid to the brahmins. the two sexes bathe together, while the most rigid of the devotees walk to the bath escorted by two brahmins. "how sweetly ganga smiles and glides luxuriant o'er her broad autumnal bed! her waves perpetual verdure spread, whilst health and plenty deck her golden sides: as when an eagle, child of light, o'er her eyry proudly reared, sits brooding and her plumage vast expands, thus ganga o'er her cherished lands, to brahma's grateful race endeared, throws wide her fostering arms, and on her banks divine, sees temples, groves, and glittering towers, that in her crystal shine. "what name, sweet bride, will best allure, thy sacred ear, and give the honour due? vishnupedi? mild bhishmasu? smooth suranimnaga? trisrota pure? by that i call; its power confess: with growing gifts thy suppliants bless, who with full sails in many a light-oared boat, on thy jasper bosom float; nor frown, dread goddess, on a peerless race, with liberal heart and martial grace, wafted from colder isles remote: as they preserve our laws and bid our terror cease, so be their darling laws preserved, in wealth, in joy, in peace!" sir w. jones. { } the elephant plays a prominent part in the hindoo tales. they pretend that the world is sustained by four of these animals, who are placed at the four cardinal points. in most of their temples one of them is sure to be seen. [illustration] his colour is white, his tusks are sometimes four in number, and all his body is covered with carpet, sparkling in the light of diamonds and precious stones. the hindoos revere also a large serpent as a god: "'the god! the very god!' he cried, and howled one long, shrill, piercing, modulated cry; whereat from that dark temple issued forth a serpent, huge and hideous. on he came, straight to the sound, and curled around the priest his mighty folds innocuous, overtopping his human height, and arching down his head, sought in their hands for food. then quitting, reared, and stretched and waved his neck and glanced his forky tongue." southey. a cow, of whom the gods disputed the possession, is also worshipped by them; she was obtained by one of them through a stratagem very like that employed by jupiter with europa. they pay homage also to peculiar divinities, such as the goddess of pleasure, and the god of war. the former was fabled, like venus, to have arisen from the sea when agitated by the gods. the poetry of the east frequently alludes to fairies of great and { } exquisite beauty, who people the air, the earth, the rivers, and the woods, and are placed by them among the inferior divinities. [illustration] camdeo, the god of love, takes the same standing in the east, as cupid in the mythology of which we have already treated; though the indian description of his person and his arms, his family, attendants and attributes, has new and peculiar characteristics. [illustration] he is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with his mother and consort, in the midst of his gardens and temples. his bow of sugar-cane or flowers, with a string of bees, and his five { } arrows, each pointed with an indian blossom of a heating quality, are allegories equally new and beautiful. this deity is adored in india, under a great number of names, camdeo, however, being the one by which he is best known, and under which he is most worshipped. "what potent god from agra's orient bowers, floats through the lucid air while living flowers, with sunny twine the vocal arbours wreathe, and gales enamoured, heavenly fragrance breathe? hail power unknown! for at thy beck vales and groves their bosoms deck, and every laughing blossom dresses with gems of dew, his musky tresses. i feel, i feel thy genial flame divine, and hallow thee and kiss thy shrine. "'knowest thou not me?' celestial sounds i hear! 'knowest thou not me? ah! spare a mortal ear! behold--' my swimming eyes entranced i raise, but oh! they sink before the excessive blaze. yes, son of maya, yes, i know thy bloomy shafts and cany bow, cheeks with youthful glory beaming, locks in braids ethereal streaming, thy scaly standards, thy mysterious arms, and all thy pains, and all thy charms. 'o thou for ages born, yet ever young, for ages may thy brahmins' lay be sung! and when thy glory spreads his emerald wings to waft thee high above the tower of kings, whilst o'er thy throne the moon's pale light pours her soft radiance through the night, and to each floating cloud discovers, the haunts of blessed or joyless lovers, thy mildest influence to thy bard impart, to warm, but not consume his heart." sir w. jones. [illustration] * * * * * { } scandinavia. [illustration] the edda, forming the mythological history of the ancient people of the north, is a complete receptacle of poetry no less than of history: and forms of itself a work of great interest. [illustration] the most important of the gods of scandinavia is odin, who was in all probability one of their kings, and whose amours, as numerous as those of jupiter, are perpetuated in a thousand legends. like jupiter too, he married his sister frea, and in the sacred books of the priesthood, he is known by upwards of a hundred names, all of them high sounding and magnificent. { } his adventures, which are numberless, are interwoven with the whole of the scandinavian history. frigga or frea, his wife, was the most powerful of the goddesses, and by many supposed to be identical with ceres, or the earth; the future was as familiar to her as to odin, with whom she is seated upon his throne, and whose government of the remaining deities she shared. when the warriors of the land seek glory in battle, she sends an inferior goddess to watch over the safety of those whom she favours, while they who fall, are honoured by the mighty mother frigga, herself mourning over their fate, not indeed for their sake, but for the sake of the country they would have adorned and the land for which they fought. [illustration] one of the children of frigga and odin, by name thor, presided over the works of creation, and over the variations of the atmosphere. the tempests and the apparent strife of nature, is caused by the struggle which thor constantly has with a famous serpent, whose vast folds embrace the whole circumference of the earth. balder, another son of odin and frigga, is described as the finest and the best of their race. he was distinguished no less for his { } eloquence than for his kindness and wisdom. it was his doom to meet with a premature death. aware, from her knowledge of the future, of the destiny which awaited him, frigga yet sought to avert it: and administered an oath to all the objects of nature, not to injure her beautiful and beloved balder. the stones, the trees, the fish, the very diseases were sworn to respect his life. no sooner had this been done, than his brothers determined to see, if indeed, he had a charmed life, and essayed successively the various means of death on the unhappy balder, who fell a victim to their folly; aided by the cunning of loke, who, through a stratagem which proved successful, showed how impossible it is to avert destiny.[ ] [illustration] his body was placed upon a funeral pile, and his wife was burned with him. no sooner was the funeral terminated, than a fellow-god, leading a fleet steed, went to demand the body of balder from the { } dark goddess hel, who replied that he should be returned if all created beings would shed a tear for him. one only refused, and balder was doomed, to the great grief of his mother, to rest in the infernal regions. among the amusements of odin, hunting forms a very important and prominent part; when the bows, arrows, and javelins were prepared by one deity; while another gilded the heavens with stars; a third protected and guided the steps of the hunters in the sacred wood; and the most successful of them received from odin the gift of immortality. [illustration] each of the three superior deities had their respective priests, who exercised absolute authority over all that was connected with their religion, as well as presided over their sacrifices. nor was it unusual to blend the priestly and the princely character, as in the case of odin. frigga was attended upon by king's daughters, who were entitled goddesses and prophetesses. they uttered oracles, devoted themselves to a lasting virginity, and like the vestals of the greek and roman mythology, kept a perpetual fire in the temple of their goddess. "the power of inflicting pains and penalties," says mr. howitt, "of striking and binding a criminal, was vested in the priests alone; { } and men so haughty that they thought themselves dishonoured if they did not revenge the slightest offence, would tremblingly submit to blows, and even death itself, from the hand of a pontiff, whom they took for the instrument of an angry deity." the councils of the divinities were held beneath the branches of an ancient oak, whose roots spread below over a fountain of water, remarkable for the number of serpents which it harboured. [illustration] teutates, the most celebrated of their minor deities, was the vital and acting principle of the world; to whom was attributed many of the functions which were supposed to belong to mars, to hercules, and to mercury. they worshipped him under the form of a dart, when they sought his aid in battle, and under that of an oak, when they endeavoured to inspire themselves with his advice; and his fétes were kept at the hour of night, in high places, or in solemn forests, by the rays of the moon, and the flashing of torches. the field where his holy ceremonies had been celebrated, was sown with stones, and from thenceforth doomed to know no more the voice of the sower, the song of the reaper, or the gladness of harvest time. under very important circumstances, it was by no means unusual to sacrifice human victims to this god, which were accompanied by flashing eyes, wild cries, and fierce gestures. [illustration: the sacrifice to teutates.] { } "but the general cause which regulated these sacrifices," says mr. howitt, (again to quote from his admiral work on priestcraft) "was a superstitious opinion, which made the northern nations regard the number three as sacred and peculiarly dear to the gods. thus every ninth month they renewed this bloody ceremony, which was to last nine days, and every day they offered up nine victims, whether men or animals. but the most solemn sacrifices were those which were offered at upsal, in sweden, every ninth year. then they chose from among the captives, in time of war, and amongst the slaves in time of peace, nine persons to be sacrificed. the choice was partly regulated by the opinion of bystanders, and partly by lot. the wretches upon whom it fell were then treated with such honours by all the assembly; they were so overwhelmed with caresses for the present, and promises for the life to come, that they sometimes congratulated themselves in their destiny. but they did not always sacrifice such mean persons. in great calamities, in oppressive famine, for instance, if the people thought they had a sure pretext to impute the cause of it to the king, they sacrificed him without hesitation, as the highest price they could pay for the divine favour. in this manner the first king of vermland was burned in honour of odin, to put away a great dearth. the ancient history of the north abounds in similar examples. "these abominable sacrifices were accompanied with various ceremonies. when the victim was chosen, they conducted him towards the altar on which the sacred fire was kept burning night and day. it was surrounded by all sorts of iron and brazen vessels. among them was one distinguished by its superior size; in this they received the blood of their victim. "when they offered up animals, they speedily killed them at the foot of the altar; then they opened their entrails, and drew auguries from them, as among the romans: but when they sacrificed men, those they pitched on were laid upon a large stone, and quickly strangled or knocked on the head." irminsul was another, and not the least celebrated of the gods adored by the germans; he had a magnificent temple, and a statue, which represented him in the figure of a warrior, was placed upon a column of marble. a great number of priests of both sexes served in the temple. women acted as prophetesses, while the men employed themselves in sacrifices, and the choice of victims. the priests of this god possessed great importance in public affairs. during certain solemnities, armed warriors performed their evolutions around the idol, and in his sanctuary was placed immense treasure, both in arms and in precious stones. the temple was however destroyed by charlemagne, who broke { } the statue, and with poetical justice, slaughtered the priests on the threshold of the very place which they had so often deluged with human blood. one column however remained standing, which was to the eyes of the saxons, holier and dearer in its melancholy reminiscences, than if it had still possessed the statue of the god, which the emperor threw in the depths of the sea. the sacrifices to these deities were sometimes varied; there was a deep well in the neighbourhood of the temple at upsal, where the chosen person was thrown in headlong, in honour of the deity representing the earth. if the body fell to the bottom, the goddess was supposed to accept it; if not, she refused it, and it was hung up in a sacred place. near this place was a forest, named odin's grove, every leaf of which was regarded as sacred, and was filled with the bodies of those who had been sacrificed. occasionally the blood of their children was not spared even by the monarchs of the land--hacon of norway, shed the blood of his son on the altar to secure a viceroy; and aune of sweden, in an attempt to obtain a continuance of life, sacrificed the lives of nine of his offspring; examples which could not fail to produce an effect upon their people. but not only did they delight in the sacrifices of human life, they also gave way in their orgies to unbounded licentiousness. while at uulel, at the feast of thor, the license was carried to such a pitch as to become merely bacchanalian meetings, where, amidst shouts, dancing, and indecent gestures, so many unseemly actions were committed, as to disgust the wiser part of the community. [illustration] { } america. the greater part of the american nations were abandoned to polytheism, and allowed a crowd of divinities: and nearly all adored the sun, as the best representation of the eternal. in peru, at the time of its discovery by pizarro, viracocha was supposed to be the creator of the gods, and below him, they believed in two triads; the first was chuquilla, catuilla, and intyllapa; and the second apomti, churunti, and inti-quaoqui. the creator of the world, according to the mexicans, was mexitli, who was seated on an azure coloured stool, placed on a litter; his hand grasped an azure staff, in the shape of a serpent, and to crown all, he was of an azure complexion. tlaloc was their second, and tezcallipuca their third deity. this last was considered the god of repentance: and it was by the direction of the first, that they built the magnificent city of mexico in the midst of a lake. [illustration] they had, besides these, tangatanga, an idol which was, according to them, three-in-one and one-in-three. they possessed also a venus, who, with her three sisters, presided over love. it is not unusual to represent her reclining on a couch, while the favoured lover is shewn sitting by her side, hand in hand, as an emblem of mutual affection. { } the mexicans also had a goddess of old age, to whom they rendered honours of the highest character. they immolated on her altar once every year a female, whom they forced to dance in presence of the idol to whom she was to be sacrificed: while in the evening, the priests ran wildly in the streets, striking children and females with small bundles of hay. when any solemn feast was in preparation, they made choice of a young and beautiful slave, whom, after bathing in the lake dedicated to their gods, they clothed in the richest costume, offering to him the highest honour for a space of forty days; all that could tend to allure the mind to earth, or render life desirable, was showered upon the victim, his wishes were anticipated, and his desires fulfilled. nine days, however, before the sacrifice took place, the priest, prostrating himself, uttered this brief sentence, "you have yet nine days to live!" intoxicating liquors were then given him, to sustain his courage until the day of the solemnity arrived, when he paid the penalty, by death; his heart was torn from his body, which was afterwards precipitated from the platform of the temple, mid the wild cries of the priests, and the yet more savage greetings of the multitude. the religious orgies of the mexicans were of a gloomy and frightful character; to enable them to go through which, their priests anointed themselves with a particular ointment, and used various fantastic ceremonies to deprive themselves of timidity. they then would rush forth to celebrate their rites, during which their vestal-virgins, and the priests were wont frantically to cut themselves with knives. quetsalocatl was the deity to whom the highest honours were paid in the valley of cholula. the air, commerce, war, and divination were under his control; and it was through him that the remarkable prophecy was supposed to originate, which prepared the mexicans for the coming of the spaniards into their territory. the ceremonials attached to his faith were of an inhuman nature, they sacrificed to him an enormous number of human victims. cholula, was, indeed, the mecca of this false divinity, and in order to receive the crowd of pilgrims, who day by day assembled, it was found necessary to maintain as many temples as there are days in the year. { } the principal one of these was an immense pyramid of thirteen hundred and fifty-five feet round its base, and about one hundred and seventy in height. of all the offerings which could be given to their god, human sacrifices were considered most acceptable: a belief, which, with a superstitious and warlike people, necessarily produced an enormous number of victims; as every prisoner taken in war soon came to be considered a fitting subject for the cruelties of the temple, and the worship of their gods. it has been suggested, that some navigators of phoenicia might have been thrown upon the then unknown shore of america, from which place they did not return, but gave to their descendants their religion, which in the lapse of ages became lost; because in some things it bears a resemblance that cannot fail to bring that of egypt to the mind, an idea, which the vestiges of monuments of gigantic proportions, with forms and hieroglyphics, strongly tend to aid. "pyramids," says an able writer of the present day, "not inferior to the egyptian, exist in many parts of the mexican territories and of new spain. some of these pyramids are of larger base than the egyptian, and composed of equally durable materials; vestiges of noble architecture are visible at cholula, otumba, oaxica, mitlan, and tlascola. "the ancient town of palenque, exhibits not only excellent workmanship in the temples, palaces, private houses, and baths, but a boldness of design in the architect, as well as skill in the execution, which will not shrink from a comparison with the works, at least, of the earlier ages of egyptian power. in the sanctuaries of palenque, are found sculptured representations of idols, which resemble the most ancient gods of egypt and syria; planispheres and zodiacs exist, which exhibit a superior astronomical and chronological system to that which was possessed by the egyptians. "statues, sculptured in a purely classical style, have been found; and vases, agreeing both in shape and ornament with the earliest specimens of egyptian and etruscan pottery, have been found in their sepulchral excavations. "evidences also exist in mexico, of two great branches of hieroglyphical language, both having striking affinities with the egyptians, and yet distinguished from it by characteristics perfectly american." { } the same authority says, "the gods of the tultecans, appear sculptured in bas relief, in the dark inner rooms of extant temples. we will take one, as an instance of the analogy to which we allude. pourtrayed on the inner wall of the adytum of one of the sanctuaries belonging to the great temple of palenque, appears the chief god of the tultecan people. our opinion is, that he is strongly identifiable with the osiris of egypt, and the adonis of syria; or rather, that he is the ancient god, called adoni-siris, a well known classical combination, therefore an identification, of both divinities. in the first place he is enthroned on a couch, perfectly egyptian in its model; it is constructed somewhat in the form of a modern couch, a cushioned plinth, resting on the claws, and four limbs of the american lion: we may at once emphatically say that there is no real difference between the above couch, and that peculiarly designated as egyptian, and which is observable in all the tombs and palaces of egypt; on his head he wears a conical cap, not differing much from that which the osiris of egypt wears. two additional symbols, the one egyptian, the other not, but equally intelligible, namely the lotus and the column affixed to the cap, clearly indicate the same tri-une divinity?" the following description of one of their gods, we think, also affords additional ground for this opinion. "in the midst of an enclosure, which does not yield in size or grandeur to the proudest monuments of egypt, and on the top of an immense pyramid stands the image. [illustration] it is placed on a throne upheld by an azure globe; and on its { } head are plumes of divers colours. his face, severe and frightful, is marked with two blue lines. he has two vast wings formed like a bat, and the feet of a goat; while in his middle is drawn the head of a lion. as a proof of the bloody nature of the religion of the mexicans, we may mention, that on solemnizing the building of their principal temple, sixty thousand prisoners were sacrificed. cortez found in an enormous edifice the skulls of those who had been slain, the number of which amounted to upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand. [illustration] * * * * * africa. the supreme deity of the hottentots, is supposed by them to possess a human form, and his residence is believed to be in the moon. when he renders himself visible to mortals, he appears in the shape and form of a hottentot, and is, according to their ideas, possessed of exquisite beauty; they never worship him, and their reason for this absence of homage is stated by them to be, that the god has uttered a curse upon those who shall attempt to serve him; one thing is certain, that this people hold sorcery in great esteem. ovisara is the supreme being of another part of africa. invisible, everywhere present, omniscient, and infinitely good, he is never invoked. "the better he is" say the negroes, "the more useless it is to pray to him," and as a natural consequence, their minds have recourse to, and believe implicitly in demons, in shadows and in divination. a pot pierced through the bottom in three places, is the organ used by the priests to give their oracles to the people; and from the sound which issues from the vessel, is drawn the good or evil augury: this sound is explained by jugglers, who, perfect masters of their trade, never find their address at fault. { } the priests take but a small part in the public affairs; and it is forbidden to them, under very severe penalties, to enter the capital. on great occasions, when a sacrifice of prisoners is to be made, recourse however is had to them, to give an additional solemnity to the proceedings. these ceremonies take place before the greater idols, who, according to the negroes, represent the evil spirits; and the number of victims should be five and twenty: unlike most other lands, who in the same circumstances are too eager for blood, they are allowed to ransom their lives, should it be in their power. the negroes of senegal adore a river, trees, and serpents, with a crowd of shapeless idols, the legends of whom neither amuse by their incident, or excite the imagination by the beauty of their poetry. in parts of africa, they worship the soul of the dead, and a being named molongo, upon whom they are most prodigal in bestowing titles; such as sovereign of nature, and of the sun and moon, and king of the earth and sea; while on others, they pay deep reverence to monkeys, who are brought up with care, and covered with honours. among the nations of congo, and in the caffre-land, the people are abandoned to the grossest superstitions. in the middle and to south of africa, the worship of idols is universal; while in abyssinia and at the cape, are some faint gleams of christianity mingled with impure legends, which have doubtless been derived from the mythologies of greece and india. [illustration] * * * * * { } polynesia. the inhabitants of polynesia, are, like all those whose faith is primitive and simple, devoted to the worship of the sun, which they regard as a divinity; and which they imagine at one time to have been a human being: they believe he married his sister, who, when all the rest of her family came upon earth, remained by herself in the skies, and from their union sprang the months. the otaheitians, more advanced in civilization, have also more extended ideas of the divinity. they worship a supreme deity whose wife is material and corporeal, and of a nature therefore entirely different from his own. they gave birth to a class of supernatural beings, which correspond with the inferior divinities of other mythologies, from one of whom, sprang the three persons, forming the trinity peculiar to this people; of these one is the creator, and lord of the starry hemisphere; another is the neptune of their seas, the next watches over the hurricanes which sweep along the pacific ocean, and presides over the winds. but the mode in which they account for the formation of the numerous islands for which the place is remarkable, is not the least curious of their beliefs. one of their divinities, they say, took his wife, and threw her with so strong an arm into the sea, that she fell to the bottom, and by the force of the concussion was broken into pieces. as she rebounded, lacerated, and divided into myriads of fragments of all sizes, they turned into the rocks, the shoals, and the numerous isles of polynesia. an enormous fragment floated to the east, and formed america. the principal goddess of the sandwich islands, is remarkable chiefly for her hideous appearance. the face is tatooed, the nostrils are enormous, and her eyes, which are so small they are scarcely to be seen, resemble a leaf of laurel. along her mouth are spread rows of teeth, which from the sharpness of their appearance, might belong to a wild beast, the neck is of an immense thickness; and the whole appearance is one which may vie in frightfulness with any deity or demon of this idolatrous people. our task is now closed; the religions of those who have gone before us, have been given with as much accuracy as the lapse of { } ages has permitted. we have sought the hidden beauties of poetry, to aid us in our endeavours, and to render them palatable to our readers; to those who have accompanied us in our wanderings; to those who have been with us among the elegant reminiscences of the greek mythology, and followed us to the more painful and revolting creed of the american, we can only say, that we hope to them, as to us, the subject has excited interest, and that a perusal of the fables we have been able to lay before them, may induce them to take a greater interest, and place a higher value on that faith, and on those truths which are set before them in the word of the one great god. with the following lines of the lamented l. e. l. we shall close our work, not doubting that our readers will perceive and appreciate their beauty. ----------------"the days of visible poetry have long been past!-- no fear that the young hunter may profane the haunt of some immortal,--but there still-- for the heart clings to old idolatry, if not with true belief with tenderness-- lingers a spirit in the woods and flowers which have a grecian memory,--some tale of olden love, or grief, linked with their bloom, seem beautiful beyond all other ones. the marble pillars are laid in the dust, the golden shrine and its perfume are gone but there are natural temples still for those eternal, tho' dethroned deities, where from green altars, flowers send up their incense." l. e. l. [illustration] * * * * * { } index. preface, v introduction, achilles, acis, acteon, �neas, �olus, �tes, �geus, admetus, adonis, adrastus, agamemnon, age of gold, age of steel, agenor, alcestis, alcyone, alcmeon, alphisibaus, amphion, amphitrite, amphiaraus, anadyomine venus, anchises, andromeda, antigone, apollo, arachne, arion, ariadne, argo, astræa, athena pallas, atlas, atreus, atropos, autumn, aurora, auster, balder, bacchus, bacchantes, the, battle of the centaurs, baucis, bellerophon, boreas, brahma, buddh, cadmeo, cadmus, calista, calumny, callirhoe, cassandra, - castalia, castor, centaurs, the, cerberus, ceres, cepheus, chaos, charybdis, charon, chiron, chrysaor, circe, clotho, colchis, comus, clytie, clytemnestra, clymene, cupid, cyclops, the, cybele, cyparissus, danaides, the, daphne, death of hercules, destiny, dejanira, diana, dido, discord, divinities of fables, echo, egisthus, endymion, envy, erigone, erostatus, eteocles, europa, eurus, eurydice, eurystheus, famine, fates, the, fauns, fidelity, flora, fortuna, friendship, frigga, ganga, galatea, genius, glaucus, - golden apple, golden fleece, the, gorgons, the, graces, the, harpies, the, harpocrates, hebe, hecate, hector, helen, heliades, the, hercules, hermaphrodite, hermes, hesione, hero and leander, hippodamia, hippolytus, honour, hope, hyacinth, hymen, icarius, io, iphigenia, irminsul, ixion, janus, jason, jocasta, judgment of paris, juno, jupiter, jupiter ammon, labours of hercules, laius, laocoon, laomedon, lares, the, latona, lacheses, l'amore dominatore, leander, leucothoe, { } liberty, lychas, manes, the, marathon, marriage of hercules, mars, marsyas, medea, medusa, - memnon, menelaus, mercury, midas, - milo, minerva, minos, - minotaur, the, mologno, momus, morpheus, mount helicon, narcissus, nemesis, neptune, nessus, nerieds, the, night, nine muses, the, - niobe, nox, numa pompilius, oceanus, oedipus, odin, olympus, omphale, - orpheus, - ovisara, pan, - pandora, paris, peace, pegasus, pelops, pelias, penetates, the, perestere, perseus, peribæa, phæton, phaon, phoebus, phædra, philemon, philoctetes, phineus, pluto, - plutus, polydectes, polyphemus, - poisoned scarf, the, pomona, prometheus, proserpine, proteus, psyche, pygmalion, pyramus, python, the serpent, pythian games, the, quetsalocatl, salmaeis, sappho, saturn, saturnalia, the, satyrs, scylla, silenus, siva, somnus, songs of the winds, song of night, sphynx, the, spring, summer, sylvans, syrens, the, syrinx, sisyphus, tangatanta, tantalus, - tartarus, temple of apollo, temple of diana, terminus, teutates, themis, theseus, - thetis, thisbe, thor, titans, the, thyestes, tityus, trojan war, the, truth, ulysses, uranus, venus, venus aeræa, venus cytheræa, vesta, vestals, the, victory, viracocha, virtue, vishnu, voluptuousness, vulcan, vulcanalia, the, winter, wise men of greece, zepherus, list of engravings. frontispiece, _to face title_ the dance of the corybantes, the feast of bacchus, jason and medea, hercules delivering hesione, the death of nessus, the anger of priam, pyrrha seizing the sword before achilles, the sacrifice to teutates, london:--printed and published by willoughby and co., , smithfield. * * * * * illustrated standard works publishing by willoughby & co., , warwick lane, and , smithfield, london. (export orders strictly executed.) ------ the adventures of robinson crusoe: by daniel de foe.-- embellished with three hundred engravings, after designs by j. j. grandville. the most extensively illustrated and complete edition of this work yet published. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "a book from which the most luxuriant and fertile of our modern prose writers have drunk inspiration--a book, moreover, to which from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken, england owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory. "hail to thee, spirit of de foe! what does not my own poor self owe to thee? england has better bards than either greece or rome, yet i could spare them easier far than de foe, 'unabashed de foe,' as the hunchbacked rhymer styled him."--_george barrow._ "the most romantic of books; the text and wood-cuts in this edition are exceedingly beautiful."--_morning advertiser._ "robinson crusoe is eagerly read by young people; and there is hardly a child so devoid of imagination as not to have supposed for himself a solitary island, in which he could act 'robinson crusoe,' were it but in a corner of the nursery. neither does a re-perusal, at a more advanced age, diminish early impressions. the situation is such as every man may make his own. it has the merit, too, of that species of accurate painting which can be looked at again and again with new pleasure."--_sir walter scott._ "oh! the delight with which we first devoured the pages of crusoe; and oh! how that delight would have been enhanced had we at that day possessed the illustrated book before us! 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"all the designs are full of spirit, and descriptive of the remarkable passages in this fine satire on the policy, drama, literature, and domestic habits of the spaniards."--_morning advertiser._ ------ asmodeus, the devil on two sticks:--a newly-revised translation by an eminent author, allowed by critics to be _the best edition extant_. with two hundred engravings, after designs by tony johannot. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "it is asmodeus who speaks, and the judicious reader will find strokes of the crutches, which he may improve to his advantage and edification."--_old preface._ "the engravings, though worked with the type, are, through care and skill, as clear and distinct as plates intended for separate publication."--_literary gazette._ ------ mythology of the ancients;--with nearly two hundred engravings, by first-rate artists. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "a proper as well as an acceptable present to the young. this, we are sure, will be no slight recommendation to those who are in the habit of objecting to works treating of similar subjects, which have less regard to moral purity."--_kendal mercury._ ------ adventures of telemachus;--translated by dr. hawkesworth, embellished with nearly two hundred engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "the publishers have rendered good service to literature and the public, by presenting, in a cheap and popular form, a work occupying such a proud position in the literature of the world."--_city chronicle._ "who would be without an illustrated telemachus, when it can be had on such terms? the translation is by dr. hawkesworth, and is unexceptionable, both in elegance of style and fidelity to the original."--_conservative journal._ ------ gulliver's travels;--by jonathan swift, dean of st. patrick's; beautifully illustrated with numerous engravings, from designs by grandville; with a biographical sketch. in this edition of the celebrated travels, care has been taken to follow minutely the text of the original. _demy vo. cloth back, ( pp.) price s._ ------ history of america;--from its discovery by the northmen to the present time; by john frost, a.m. embellished with numerous engravings; which consist of highly-finished woodcuts, illustrating the most important and striking events in the annals of that nation, and so numerous as to enable the reader to follow the course of events by simply turning over the leaves, and passing from incident to incident, and from character to character, exciting in the young and uninstructed an earnest desire to read the connecting narrative; with a portrait of the author. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "this handsome volume, interspersed with numerous beautiful wood-engravings, contains the history of america from the discovery by the northmen, in the tenth century, to the present time. we sincerely hope that the work will obtain, as it deserves, a large circulation; and we recommend it to our readers, with confidence in its utility and value."--_weekly dispatch._ "the history of america, from the date of its discovery by europeans until the present time, is a subject of deep interest to all who attach any value to an acquaintance with the origin, rise, and progress of great nations. the issue of such a work is, moreover, particularly well-timed."--_weekly dispatch. ( nd notice.)_ "as englishmen, we shall always remember the americans of the united states are our brethren, and that every triumph achieved by them, if achieved in a good cause, we, to some extent, share the glory of. the two nations are united by ties of blood, and the past history, present state, and the future progress of each must be interesting to the other."--_northern star._ ------ fables; original and selected:--with an introductory dissertation on the history of fable, and comprising biographical notices of the most eminent fabulists, by g. moir bussey. embellished with numerous engravings by j. j. grandville. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "to the lovers of fables--that is to say, to every one who has imagination and moral sense--this publication ought to be a welcome and grateful offering."--_atlas._ "the engravings are superb, both as regards their design and execution. the work is beautifully got up, and is sold remarkably cheap--even for this age of cheap printing. we cordially recommend it to our readers."--_satirist._ "the selection has been made with care and attention; it is characterised by a total absence of everything gross."--_morning advertiser._ "we can confidently recommend this work to our readers, as one of the cheapest and best of its class."--_court gazette._ ------ valentine vox, the ventriloquist;--by henry cockton, esq. embellished with sixty richly humourous engravings on steel, by s. onwhyn. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ this is one of the most amusing and deeply interesting publications of the day. the power of an accomplished ventriloquist is well known to be unlimited. there is no scene in life in which that power is incapable of being developed; it gives its possessors an absolute command over the actions, the feelings, and the passions of men; while its efficacy in loading with ridicule every prejudice and every project whose tendency is pernicious, cannot fail to be perceived at a glance. the design of this work, although essentially humorous, is not, however, to excite peals of laughter alone: it has a far higher object in view, namely, that of removing the most prominent of our social absurdities and abuses, by means the most peculiarly attractive and pleasing. "a very humorous and amusing little work, detailing the life of a ventriloquist. it abounds in droll scenes, which will keep the most melancholy reader in a side-aching fit of laughter as long as he has the book in his hands."--_times._ "this is a clever bozian work, very smartly and shrewdly written. the illustrations, by onwhyn, are original, and facetious."--_court journal._ "a racy production of the class which mr. dickens has rendered so popular. valentine, the hero, is a youth, who having witnessed the performance of a ventriloquist, finds, after much practice, that he can himself accomplish the feat. it is scarcely necessary to mention the lots of fun of which this may be made the foundation."--_weekly true sun._ ------ struggles and adventures of christopher tadpole, at home and abroad.--by albert smith, author of the "adventures of mr. ledbury," "the overland mail," "the fortunes of the scattergood family," &c, &c. illustrated by john leech. _in demy vo., cloth, gilt back, price s._ "the real strength of the author is in description. there is often a minute fidelity in his pictures which render them extremely graphic. he, like mr. dickens, is always in the streets of london, or any other venerable city."--_atlas._ "a very entertaining tale; distinguished by great smartness of style, peculiar happiness in description, and an amusing variety and contrast of character."--_morning advertiser._ "dickens and albert smith so assimilate in style, and their vigorous powers of conception are so great, that it would be a very difficult task for the nicest critic to award a preference as to their merits. let it be said, therefore, that they are stars of great magnitude, shining with equal brilliancy."--_cambridge independent press._ "abounding with sketches of life and character true to nature, and with that broad caricature which those who are familiar with the literary productions of this author must have so fully appreciated. but mr. smith not only deals in burlesque; he can be grave as well as gay, and has made himself acquainted with the workings of the human heart, as well as the surface peculiarities of human character, which bids fair to raise him to the same literary eminence as his contemporary dickens. he dashes on with unflagging spirit and good-humoured satire. for vigour he has never been surpassed by any writer of the same school."--_nottingham review._ ------ pickwick abroad;--by g. w. m. reynolds, esq., author of the "mysteries of london," "robert macaire in england," &c. &c. embellished with steel engravings designed by alfred crowquill and john phillips, and numerous woodcuts by bonner. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "'pickwick abroad' is so well done by g. w. m. reynolds, that we must warn "boz" to look to his laurels."--_age._ "'pickwick abroad' is an admirable continuation of boz's famous 'posthumous papers of the pickwick club,'and promises to become equally popular. the characters are sustained with great spirit and fidelity; and the scenes and incidents are varied and full of life."--_glasgow courier._ "monsieur g. w. m. reynolds fait voyager en france m. pickwick, au grand amusement de ses lecteurs. dans cet ouvrage de m. reynolds on remarque avec plaisir que l'auteur tente à accroitre les sympathies de l'angleterre pour la france,"--_révue britannique_, (a french magazine.) "'pickwick abroad' is presented to us with undiminished spirit; and the variety of character and incident afforded by the sojourn of the pickwickians at paris keeps our attention on a perpetual _qui vive_."--_weekly chronicle._ ------ alfred; or, the adventures of a french gentleman;--by g. w. m. reynolds, esq., author of "pickwick abroad," the "mysteries of london," &c. with fourteen steel engravings. _demy vo. gilt back, ( pp.) price s. d._ ------ _nearly ready, a new edition._ the steam packet; a tale of the river and the ocean. by g. w. m. reynolds, author of "pickwick abroad," &c., &c. embellished with beautiful steel engravings, designed by j. h. jones. ------ coombe abbey:--an historical tale of the reign of james the first: wherein all the engrossing incidents which led to the gunpowder plot will be found detailed with historical accuracy, by selina bunbury, author of "a visit to my birthplace," "recollections of ireland," &c. &c.: with numerous illustrations on wood, by sargeant, henning, newman, &c. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ ------ _just published, a second edition, with upwards of one hundred illustrations,_ the pictorial reader;--compiled from the most approved authorities. copiously illustrated from the most graceful and animated designs, which bring the image of almost every scene and object mentioned immediately before the reader, and, by appealing to the eye, prepare the mind to receive the strongest impressions. _demy mo. price s._ "it is like a nosegay, where one hue is all the brighter from its immediate contact with another."--_kentish independent._ ------ knight's penny magazine (new series).--there are thousands of readers who have not possessed themselves of this instructive and pleasing book, yet can duly appreciate its valuable contents, and who have yet to acquire the knowledge imparted therein by that great benefactor of the million, mr. charles knight. it is believed, therefore, that its present reproduction will secure it a very large circulation. _in one vol. cloth, gilt back, price s._ ------ faces in the fire;--a story for the season: with wood engravings, and illustrations on steel by nicholson. uniform with dickens' "christmas carol." _in one handsome volume, small vo., s. d._ ------ the historic gallery of portraits and paintings;--with lives of the most celebrated men of every age and country. these beautiful engravings are in outline by first-rate artists. four vols. in two. _demy vo. half morocco, price s._ "this very cheap and clever work contains a liberal supply of engravings in outline, together with descriptions in prose. it ranges from hampden to henry viii., from rubens to robespierre; it takes in all nations and all ages."--_court journal._ ------ sculpture illustrations;--with thirty-seven embellishments, both ancient and modern, and a "dissertation on sculpture," by r. w. sievier, esq., f.r.s. _demy to. price s._ "this is one of the most beautifully illustrated books ever introduced to the public; and, to add to its value, the letter-press descriptions given are written by masterly hands, and convey a large amount of important information. the work contains nearly fifty illustrations, comprising the finest subjects in the art of sculpture, both antique and modern; and the engravings, which are executed in outline, have a light and graceful appearance. to the young student this work will prove of great advantage; its engravings, and its sound practical instruction, presenting to him materials for thought and action which few other works on this divine art can offer. the book is printed in strict keeping with the illustrations--neat, chaste, and elegant."--_london mercury._ ------ dedicated to robert vernon, esq. the universal picture gallery;--being engravings from the best masters, both ancient and modern, by linton, gilks, measom, &c, with letter-press illustrations. _demy to. handsomely bound in crimson cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ it is the mission of art to realize and embody the ideal creations of the poet; indeed, the painter must himself be more or less a poet,--expressing by form and colour that which the writer educes by words: and to bring both art and literature, in the most attractive guise, to the homes and firesides of the many, is the aim and object of the present work. the engravings are of the first class, from the burins of linton, gilks, the brothers measom, &c., and printed on tinted drawing paper. while the subjects are systematically chosen from the best works of ancient and modern artists, there is attached to each such attractive information upon its origin, style, history, or feeling, as may be necessary to enable the reader to appreciate its peculiar excellence and value. ------ travellers and travelling.--a book for everybody, going anywhere. by e. l. blanchard. lavishly illustrated by f. g. delamotte. _in stiffened wrapper, price d._ "heads and tales of travellers and travelling" is exactly one of those books that every one ought to read. open it where you will, you will be safe to find something to amuse you and make you laugh. puns and jokes of all kinds, "from grave to gay, from lively to severe," are throughout its pages as "plentiful as blackberries."--_sunday times._ ------ _just published._ the adventures of old dan tucker and his son walter;--a tale of north carolina.--by c. h. wiley. illustrated with beautiful engravings, by felix o. c. darley. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ "----------------give me the broad prairie, where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free; behold how its beautiful colours all vary, like those of the clouds or the deep-rolling sea! a life in the woods, boys, is even as changing; with proud independence we season our cheer; and those who the world are for happiness ranging, won't find it at all if they don't find it here." geo. p. morris. ------ the juvenile museum; or, a child's library of amusement and instruction.--by quiet george. illustrated with numerous engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandfathers, grandmothers, cousins, godfathers, godmothers, &c, &c, are informed that the interesting character of the illustrations, and the boldness of the type, together with the especial care devoted to its general getting up, must make this little book an immense favourite with the children,--for to teach the infant mind through pictures has ever been held an important step in their education; and to guide their minds aright it is absolutely necessary that only such books may be put into their hands as are free from every thought of evil. childhood being, of all stages of life, the most important period for the formation and cultivation of good habits, it behoves all who have the care of youth to look with suspicion on the kind of mental food offered to their acceptance. it is better to form the mind of the child, than to reform the habits of the man. "here we have tales, poems, and fables; sketches in history, biography, natural history, manners and morals, and we know not what beside; with cuts of birds, beasts, and fishes; remarkable men, and remarkable places, head-pieces and tail-pieces, and ornamental letters out of number: every page a picture-gallery, and every picture rendered instructive and suggestive of good. a capital book! such a treat for our boys!"--_maidstone gazette._ ------ the fireside companion;--a literary, biographical, and anecdotical book for all seasons; being a series of tales, sketches, poems, biographies, essays, anecdotes, &c, &c. illustrated with numerous engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ _just published_, don quixote de la mancha. from the spanish of miguel cervantes saavedra. carefully revised and corrected. embellished with nearly eight hundred engravings, after original designs by tony johannot. printed on fine paper, in two volumes, royal octavo, elegantly bound in ultra-marine blue, gilt edges, price twenty-one shillings; or the two volumes bound in one, price eighteen shillings. also a cheaper edition with the same engravings, demy octavo, two volumes bound in one, price ten shillings, and sixpence. "this marvellous production of cervantes will always be popular, and more particularly if, as in the present case, it be profusely illustrated by such a master-hand as tony johannot. we are at a loss which to admire or to laugh at the most, the text or the engravings."--_windsor express._ ------ sterne's sentimental journey through france and italy. with a memoir of the author, by e. l. blanchard. with numerous engravings. "a more graceful gift book has seldom appeared than the one in which we here find reprinted not the least charming among the masterpieces of our national literature. laurence sterne has long been treasured among our classics; and hence any republication of his delightful writings is at all times peculiarly acceptable to the majority of our intelligent and discerning population.... mr. blanchard's charming biography is happily associated with the very tasteful and appropriate embellishments scattered through the volume, from the pencil of tony johannot. altogether the new issue of 'sterne's sentimental journey,' will prove, on examination, to be a worthy addition to any library, as well as an elegant work for the table of a drawing-room or a boudoir. the merits of the original text and of the newly-compiled memoir have been adequately responded to by the excellence visible both in the illustrations and the typography."--_the sun._ _demy vo., elegantly bound, gilt edges, price s._ ------ woman's love; a romance of smiles and tears. by g. herbert rodwell. author of "old london bridge," &c. with beautiful illustrations by alfred crowquill. _demy vo., price s._ ------ tales from the arabian nights. comprising, aladdin, or the wonderful lamp--seven voyages of sindbad the sailor--ali baba and the forty thieves; and ali cogia, the merchant--without abridgement, and embellished with one hundred and eighteen engravings. _demy vo., cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ _publishing in parts at sixpence_, phelps's edition of the complete works of shakespeare. revised from the original text. each play accompanied by copious notes, critical, general and explanatory. produced under the immediate and personal supervision of samuel phelps esq., of the theatre royal sadler's-wells. with beautiful engravings, designed by nicholson. this edition will be completed in two handsome volumes, large royal vo., at twelve shillings and sixpence each. the first volume is ready for delivery. "assuredly the patrons of cheap and elegant standard literature will bestow their patronage on the messrs. willoughby for publishing in so spirited a manner this beautiful edition of shakespeare's works, which comes recommended to them not by one but by many attractions. there is appended to each play a carefully written historical and analytical introduction, and just a sufficient quantity of critical, general, and explanatory notes; secondly, the whole is produced under the immediate and personal supervision of the eminent shakespearian actor, mr. phelps; thirdly, it is embellished with wood engravings, executed in the best style of art, and is printed on good paper, and in a clear type; and last, though not least, it is the cheapest edition of shakespeare's works that has yet been issued to the public."--_weekly times._ ------ the history of smithfield. by thomas gaspey, esq., author of "the lollards," "life and times of the good lord cobham," &c., &c. _price one shilling, bound in cloth._ ------ _in the press, a new edition of_ tom racquet and his three maiden aunts. with a few words about "the whittleburys." by charles w. manby. with steel engravings by cruikshank. demy _ vo._ _price s., cloth, lettered._ ------ _publishing in parts at sixpence_, old london bridge; an historical romance. by george herbert rodwell. illustrated with steel engravings, by alfred ashley. "the characters are well sustained and the illustrations are well executed.'"--_oxford chronicle._ ------ life of our lord and saviour jesus christ;--being a correct and general history of our glorious redeemer, from his birth to his ascension into heaven; with the lives of the holy apostles and evangelists. by the rev. john fleetwood, d.d. embellished with splendid engravings, in outline, after the old masters, and reprinted, without abridgement, from the best edition. _demy vo. fancy cloth, gilt edges, price s._ the high price at which editions of this work have been published has prevented many persons of confined incomes from possessing it; the proprietors feel, therefore, that any apology would be quite superfluous in extenuation of their present undertaking, to place within the reach of even the humblest classes this truly valuable work, so spiritually useful, and so highly prized by every true christian. ------ works of josephus;--translated by w. whiston, a.m., with a life of the author and numerous engravings. _crown to., price s._ ------ priceless pearls for all christians;--containing the nativity, the baptism, the teachings, the miracles, the transfiguration, the crucifixion, and the resurrection of our glorious redeemer, with beautiful engravings in outline. _demy vo, cloth gilt, price s. d._ a very delightful sunday book. it consists of devout meditations on the grand subjects (of such profound and perennial interest to all christians), which are mentioned above, interspersed with pieces of sacred poetry, selected from the most celebrated religious poetry of england and america; the whole illustrated with very elegant line engravings, from pictures by some of the greatest masters, ancient and modern."--_herald of peace._ ------ dedicated, by permission, to the peace society _just published, price one shilling._ the soldier's progress: pourtrayed in six tableaux, exhibiting some of the horrors of war, from designs by john gilbert, engraved by thomas gilks; with a few words on peace and war, by elihu burritt. ------ _uniform with the soldier's progress, on fine paper, stitched in a neat wrapper, price one shilling._ the sailor's progress: pourtrayed in six tableaux, exhibiting some of the horrors of war. by john gilbert, with a few words on peace and war; by charles sumner. ------ the prize tale. _just published, handsomely bound, price s. d.; or elegantly bound in arabesque cloth, gilt edges, the engravings coloured, price s. d., the tale which obtained the prize of twenty pounds, given by the proprietors of the "people's and howitt's journal;" entitled_ the soldier's progress; pourtraying in the life of george powell, the horrors of war and the blessings of peace, by sarah symonds. "there is nothing more terrible than a victory except a defeat."--_duke of wellington._ opinions of the press. "its laudable purpose is to strip the hateful war system of its gaudy gloss; to exhibit the miserable realities of the soldier's life, as contrasted with the false notions deduced by ignorant poor people from the pomp of the parade, and the dramatic jollity of the recruiting sergeant.... it is on the whole a performance quite creditable to the fair authoress."--_weekly chronicle._ "this little volume will probably accomplish more than all the pulpits in england have effected in ten years towards creating a horror of war, the greatest crime against god which man commits. it is well-written, deeply interesting, neatly bound and illustrated."--_critic._ "a very cleverly-written story.... the book will make you weep and moralise,"--_era._ ------ the diverting historie of renard the fox;--illustrated with numerous engravings, designed by j. j. grandville. _demy mo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ fables for the young.--illustrated by j. j. grandville. _demy mo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ just published, _elegantly bound in cloth, gift edges, price s._, sterne's sentimental journey through france and italy; embellished with beautiful full page illustrations designed by tony johannot. * * * * * specimen page of "don quixote," demy vo., cloth, gilt edges, price s. d. with nearly engravings. adventures of don quixote. [illustration] have now, sir," quoth sancho to his master, "reluced my wife to consent that i should go with your worship wherever you please to carry me." "reduced, thou shouldst say, sancho," said don quixote, "and not 'reluced.'" "once or twice already," answered sancho, "i have besought your worship not to mind my words, when you know my meaning; and when you do not, say, sancho, or devil, i understand thee not; and then if i do not explain myself, you may correct me, for i am so focile."--"i do not understand thee now, sancho," said don quixote; for i know not the meaning of 'focile.'" "so focile," answered sancho, "means, i am so much so." "i understand thee still less now," replied don quixote. "why, if you do not understand me," answered sancho, "i cannot help it; i know no more, so god help me!" "o! now i have it," answered don quixote, "thou wilt say that thou art so docile, so pliant, and so tractable, that thou wilt readily comprehend whatever i say, and wilt learn whatever i shall teach thee." "i will lay a wager," quoth sancho, "you took me from the first, only you had a mind to puzzle me, that you might hear some more of my blunders." "perhaps thou mayest be right there," answered don quixote; "but tell me, what says teresa?" "teresa," quoth sancho, "says that fast bind, fast find, and that we must have less talking, and more doing: for he who shuffles is not he who cuts, and, 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the * * * * * note [ ] there is a curious scandinavian legend extant, relative to this subject. the god balder dreamt that his life, although made to be immortal, was threatened with an imminent danger. the gods agreed to exercise all the perils which might have the power of injuring balder. the goddess frigga, the mother of balder, undertook this task; and she exacted an oath from fire, from water, from all the metals, from the stones, from land, from the fishes, from all the animals, and from all the vegetables, that they would do no harm to balder. on the conclusion of this solemn compact, the deities, in one of their grand meetings, amused themselves with throwing at balder, arrows, stones, lighted torches, and with striking him tremendous blows with the sword, his invulnerability protecting him from injury. loke, an evil genius, and an enemy of the gods, in the disguise of an old woman, went to frigga, and claimed her hospitality. the kind goddess related the story of her son to the impostor, who enquired whether everything in nature, without exception, had taken the required oath. frigga replied, that there was only one small shrub, (the mistletoe,) from which she had exacted no promise, because, it being so feeble, she did not dread its power. loke then departed, and, cutting the mistletoe, converted it into a sharp pointed arrow. he returned to the assembly of the gods, darted his weapon against balder, and killed him. everything in nature wept for balder, and especially the trees, which were for a long time inconsolable.--_madame de genlis._ * * * * * changes made to printed original. pages vi, vii. pages interchanged in original. page viii. "natural or artificial": 'natural er artificial' in original. page . "as he represents the celestial regions": 'as be represents' in original. page . "distinguished by the most exquisite beauty": 'exquiste' in original. page . "arch, yet pure": 'vet' in original. page . "subdued majesty with this glad time.": 'sudued' in original. page . "who had descended": 'descdeden' in original. page . "the time of her being carried off": 'been' in original. page . "gave them additional favour": 'them them' in original. myths and myth-makers old tales and superstitions interpreted by comparative mythology by john fiske la mythologie, cette science toute nouvelle, qui nous fait suivre les croyances de nos peres, depuis le berceau du monde jusqu'aux superstitions de nos campagnes.--edmond scherer to my dear friend, william dean howells, in remembrance of pleasant autumn evenings spent among werewolves and trolls and nixies, i dedicate this record of our adventures. preface. in publishing this somewhat rambling and unsystematic series of papers, in which i have endeavoured to touch briefly upon a great many of the most important points in the study of mythology, i think it right to observe that, in order to avoid confusing the reader with intricate discussions, i have sometimes cut the matter short, expressing myself with dogmatic definiteness where a sceptical vagueness might perhaps have seemed more becoming. in treating of popular legends and superstitions, the paths of inquiry are circuitous enough, and seldom can we reach a satisfactory conclusion until we have travelled all the way around robin hood's barn and back again. i am sure that the reader would not have thanked me for obstructing these crooked lanes with the thorns and brambles of philological and antiquarian discussion, to such an extent as perhaps to make him despair of ever reaching the high road. i have not attempted to review, otherwise than incidentally, the works of grimm, muller, kuhn, breal, dasent, and tylor; nor can i pretend to have added anything of consequence, save now and then some bit of explanatory comment, to the results obtained by the labour of these scholars; but it has rather been my aim to present these results in such a way as to awaken general interest in them. and accordingly, in dealing with a subject which depends upon philology almost as much as astronomy depends upon mathematics, i have omitted philological considerations wherever it has been possible to do so. nevertheless, i believe that nothing has been advanced as established which is not now generally admitted by scholars, and that nothing has been advanced as probable for which due evidence cannot be produced. yet among many points which are proved, and many others which are probable, there must always remain many other facts of which we cannot feel sure that our own explanation is the true one; and the student who endeavours to fathom the primitive thoughts of mankind, as enshrined in mythology, will do well to bear in mind the modest words of jacob grimm,--himself the greatest scholar and thinker who has ever dealt with this class of subjects,--"i shall indeed interpret all that i can, but i cannot interpret all that i should like." petersham, september , . contents. i. the origins of folk-lore ii. the descent of fire iii. werewolves and swan-maidens iv. light and darkness v. myths of the barbaric world vi. juventus mundi vii. the primeval ghost-world note myths and myth-makers. i. the origins of folk-lore. few mediaeval heroes are so widely known as william tell. his exploits have been celebrated by one of the greatest poets and one of the most popular musicians of modern times. they are doubtless familiar to many who have never heard of stauffacher or winkelried, who are quite ignorant of the prowess of roland, and to whom arthur and lancelot, nay, even charlemagne, are but empty names. nevertheless, in spite of his vast reputation, it is very likely that no such person as william tell ever existed, and it is certain that the story of his shooting the apple from his son's head has no historical value whatever. in spite of the wrath of unlearned but patriotic swiss, especially of those of the cicerone class, this conclusion is forced upon us as soon as we begin to study the legend in accordance with the canons of modern historical criticism. it is useless to point to tell's lime-tree, standing to-day in the centre of the market-place at altdorf, or to quote for our confusion his crossbow preserved in the arsenal at zurich, as unimpeachable witnesses to the truth of the story. it is in vain that we are told, "the bricks are alive to this day to testify to it; therefore, deny it not." these proofs are not more valid than the handkerchief of st. veronica, or the fragments of the true cross. for if relics are to be received as evidence, we must needs admit the truth of every miracle narrated by the bollandists. the earliest work which makes any allusion to the adventures of william tell is the chronicle of the younger melchior russ, written in . as the shooting of the apple was supposed to have taken place in , this leaves an interval of one hundred and eighty-six years, during which neither a tell, nor a william, nor the apple, nor the cruelty of gessler, received any mention. it may also be observed, parenthetically, that the charters of kussenach, when examined, show that no man by the name of gessler ever ruled there. the chroniclers of the fifteenth century, faber and hammerlin, who minutely describe the tyrannical acts by which the duke of austria goaded the swiss to rebellion, do not once mention tell's name, or betray the slightest acquaintance with his exploits or with his existence. in the zurich chronicle of he is not alluded to. but we have still better negative evidence. john of winterthur, one of the best chroniclers of the middle ages, was living at the time of the battle of morgarten ( ), at which his father was present. he tells us how, on the evening of that dreadful day, he saw duke leopold himself in his flight from the fatal field, half dead with fear. he describes, with the loving minuteness of a contemporary, all the incidents of the swiss revolution, but nowhere does he say a word about william tell. this is sufficiently conclusive. these mediaeval chroniclers, who never failed to go out of their way after a bit of the epigrammatic and marvellous, who thought far more of a pointed story than of historical credibility, would never have kept silent about the adventures of tell, if they had known anything about them. after this, it is not surprising to find that no two authors who describe the deeds of william tell agree in the details of topography and chronology. such discrepancies never fail to confront us when we leave the solid ground of history and begin to deal with floating legends. yet, if the story be not historical, what could have been its origin? to answer this question we must considerably expand the discussion. the first author of any celebrity who doubted the story of william tell was guillimann, in his work on swiss antiquities, published in . he calls the story a pure fable, but, nevertheless, eating his words, concludes by proclaiming his belief in it, because the tale is so popular! undoubtedly he acted a wise part; for, in , as we are told, uriel freudenberger was condemned by the canton of uri to be burnt alive, for publishing his opinion that the legend of tell had a danish origin. [ ] the bold heretic was substantially right, however, like so many other heretics, earlier and later. the danish account of tell is given as follows, by saxo grammaticus:-- "a certain palnatoki, for some time among king harold's body-guard, had made his bravery odious to very many of his fellow-soldiers by the zeal with which he surpassed them in the discharge of his duty. this man once, when talking tipsily over his cups, had boasted that he was so skilled an archer that he could hit the smallest apple placed a long way off on a wand at the first shot; which talk, caught up at first by the ears of backbiters, soon came to the hearing of the king. now, mark how the wickedness of the king turned the confidence of the sire to the peril of the son, by commanding that this dearest pledge of his life should be placed instead of the wand, with a threat that, unless the author of this promise could strike off the apple at the first flight of the arrow, he should pay the penalty of his empty boasting by the loss of his head. the king's command forced the soldier to perform more than he had promised, and what he had said, reported, by the tongues of slanderers, bound him to accomplish what he had not said. yet did not his sterling courage, though caught in the snare of slander, suffer him to lay aside his firmness of heart; nay, he accepted the trial the more readily because it was hard. so palnatoki warned the boy urgently when he took his stand to await the coming of the hurtling arrow with calm ears and unbent head, lest, by a slight turn of his body, he should defeat the practised skill of the bowman; and, taking further counsel to prevent his fear, he turned away his face, lest he should be scared at the sight of the weapon. then, taking three arrows from the quiver, he struck the mark given him with the first he fitted to the string..... but palnatoki, when asked by the king why he had taken more arrows from the quiver, when it had been settled that he should only try the fortune of the bow once, made answer, 'that i might avenge on thee the swerving of the first by the points of the rest, lest perchance my innocence might have been punished, while your violence escaped scot-free.'" [ ] this ruthless king is none other than the famous harold blue-tooth, and the occurrence is placed by saxo in the year . but the story appears not only in denmark, but in england, in norway, in finland and russia, and in persia, and there is some reason for supposing that it was known in india. in norway we have the adventures of pansa the splay-footed, and of hemingr, a vassal of harold hardrada, who invaded england in . in iceland there is the kindred legend of egil brother of wayland smith, the norse vulcan. in england there is the ballad of william of cloudeslee, which supplied scott with many details of the archery scene in "ivanhoe." here, says the dauntless bowman, "i have a sonne seven years old; hee is to me full deere; i will tye him to a stake-- all shall see him that bee here-- and lay an apple upon his head, and goe six paces him froe, and i myself with a broad arrowe shall cleave the apple in towe." in the malleus maleficarum a similar story is told puncher, a famous magician on the upper rhine. the great ethnologist castren dug up the same legend in finland. it is common, as dr. dasent observes, to the turks and mongolians; "and a legend of the wild samoyeds, who never heard of tell or saw a book in their lives relates it, chapter and verse, of one of their marksmen." finally, in the persian poem of farid-uddin attar, born in , we read a story of a prince who shoots an apple from the head of a beloved page. in all these stories, names and motives of course differ; but all contain the same essential incidents. it is always an unerring archer who, at the capricious command of a tyrant, shoots from the head of some one dear to him a small object, be it an apple, a nut, or a piece of coin. the archer always provides himself with a second arrow, and, when questioned as to the use he intended to make of his extra weapon, the invariable reply is, "to kill thee, tyrant, had i slain my son." now, when a marvellous occurrence is said to have happened everywhere, we may feel sure that it never happened anywhere. popular fancies propagate themselves indefinitely, but historical events, especially the striking and dramatic ones, are rarely repeated. the facts here collected lead inevitably to the conclusion that the tell myth was known, in its general features, to our aryan ancestors, before ever they left their primitive dwelling-place in central asia. it may, indeed, be urged that some one of these wonderful marksmen may really have existed and have performed the feat recorded in the legend; and that his true story, carried about by hearsay tradition from one country to another and from age to age, may have formed the theme for all the variations above mentioned, just as the fables of la fontaine were patterned after those of aesop and phaedrus, and just as many of chaucer's tales were consciously adopted from boccaccio. no doubt there has been a good deal of borrowing and lending among the legends of different peoples, as well as among the words of different languages; and possibly even some picturesque fragment of early history may have now and then been carried about the world in this manner. but as the philologist can with almost unerring certainty distinguish between the native and the imported words in any aryan language, by examining their phonetic peculiarities, so the student of popular traditions, though working with far less perfect instruments, can safely assert, with reference to a vast number of legends, that they cannot have been obtained by any process of conscious borrowing. the difficulties inseparable from any such hypothesis will become more and more apparent as we proceed to examine a few other stories current in different portions of the aryan domain. as the swiss must give up his tell, so must the welshman be deprived of his brave dog gellert, over whose cruel fate i confess to having shed more tears than i should regard as well bestowed upon the misfortunes of many a human hero of romance. every one knows how the dear old brute killed the wolf which had come to devour llewellyn's child, and how the prince, returning home and finding the cradle upset and the dog's mouth dripping blood, hastily slew his benefactor, before the cry of the child from behind the cradle and the sight of the wolf's body had rectified his error. to this day the visitor to snowdon is told the touching story, and shown the place, called beth-gellert, [ ] where the dog's grave is still to be seen. nevertheless, the story occurs in the fireside lore of nearly every aryan people. under the gellert-form it started in the panchatantra, a collection of sanskrit fables; and it has even been discovered in a chinese work which dates from a. d. . usually the hero is a dog, but sometimes a falcon, an ichneumon, an insect, or even a man. in egypt it takes the following comical shape: "a wali once smashed a pot full of herbs which a cook had prepared. the exasperated cook thrashed the well-intentioned but unfortunate wali within an inch of his life, and when he returned, exhausted with his efforts at belabouring the man, to examine the broken pot, he discovered amongst the herbs a poisonous snake." [ ] now this story of the wali is as manifestly identical with the legend of gellert as the english word father is with the latin pater; but as no one would maintain that the word father is in any sense derived from pater, so it would be impossible to represent either the welsh or the egyptian legend as a copy of the other. obviously the conclusion is forced upon us that the stories, like the words, are related collaterally, having descended from a common ancestral legend, or having been suggested by one and the same primeval idea. closely connected with the gellert myth are the stories of faithful john and of rama and luxman. in the german story, faithful john accompanies the prince, his master, on a journey in quest of a beautiful maiden, whom he wishes to make his bride. as they are carrying her home across the seas, faithful john hears some crows, whose language he understands, foretelling three dangers impending over the prince, from which his friend can save him only by sacrificing his own life. as soon as they land, a horse will spring toward the king, which, if he mounts it, will bear him away from his bride forever; but whoever shoots the horse, and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from toe to knee. then, before the wedding a bridal garment will lie before the king, which, if he puts it on, will burn him like the nessos-shirt of herakles; but whoever throws the shirt into the fire and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from knee to heart. finally, during the wedding-festivities, the queen will suddenly fall in a swoon, and "unless some one takes three drops of blood from her right breast she will die"; but whoever does so, and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from head to foot. thus forewarned, faithful john saves his master from all these dangers; but the king misinterprets his motive in bleeding his wife, and orders him to be hanged. on the scaffold he tells his story, and while the king humbles himself in an agony of remorse, his noble friend is turned into stone. in the south indian tale luxman accompanies rama, who is carrying home his bride. luxman overhears two owls talking about the perils that await his master and mistress. first he saves them from being crushed by the falling limb of a banyan-tree, and then he drags them away from an arch which immediately after gives way. by and by, as they rest under a tree, the king falls asleep. a cobra creeps up to the queen, and luxman kills it with his sword; but, as the owls had foretold, a drop of the cobra's blood falls on the queen's forehead. as luxman licks off the blood, the king starts up, and, thinking that his vizier is kissing his wife, upbraids him with his ingratitude, whereupon luxman, through grief at this unkind interpretation of his conduct, is turned into stone. [ ] for further illustration we may refer to the norse tale of the "giant who had no heart in his body," as related by dr. dasent. this burly magician having turned six brothers with their wives into stone, the seventh brother--the crafty boots or many-witted odysseus of european folk-lore--sets out to obtain vengeance if not reparation for the evil done to his kith and kin. on the way he shows the kindness of his nature by rescuing from destruction a raven, a salmon, and a wolf. the grateful wolf carries him on his back to the giant's castle, where the lovely princess whom the monster keeps in irksome bondage promises to act, in behalf of boots, the part of delilah, and to find out, if possible, where her lord keeps his heart. the giant, like the jewish hero, finally succumbs to feminine blandishments. "far, far away in a lake lies an island; on that island stands a church; in that church is a well; in that well swims a duck; in that duck there is an egg; and in that egg there lies my heart, you darling." boots, thus instructed, rides on the wolf's back to the island; the raven flies to the top of the steeple and gets the church-keys; the salmon dives to the bottom of the well, and brings up the egg from the place where the duck had dropped it; and so boots becomes master of the situation. as he squeezes the egg, the giant, in mortal terror, begs and prays for his life, which boots promises to spare on condition that his brothers and their brides should be released from their enchantment. but when all has been duly effected, the treacherous youth squeezes the egg in two, and the giant instantly bursts. the same story has lately been found in southern india, and is published in miss frere's remarkable collection of tales entitled "old deccan days." in the hindu version the seven daughters of a rajah, with their husbands, are transformed into stone by the great magician punchkin,--all save the youngest daughter, whom punchkin keeps shut up in a tower until by threats or coaxing he may prevail upon her to marry him. but the captive princess leaves a son at home in the cradle, who grows up to manhood unmolested, and finally undertakes the rescue of his family. after long and weary wanderings he finds his mother shut up in punchkin's tower, and persuades her to play the part of the princess in the norse legend. the trick is equally successful. "hundreds of thousands of miles away there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. in the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm-trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six jars full of water, piled one above another; below the sixth jar is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the life of the parrot depends my life, and if the parrot is killed i must die." [ ] the young prince finds the place guarded by a host of dragons, but some eaglets whom he has saved from a devouring serpent in the course of his journey take him on their crossed wings and carry him to the place where the jars are standing. he instantly overturns the jars, and seizing the parrot, obtains from the terrified magician full reparation. as soon as his own friends and a stately procession of other royal or noble victims have been set at liberty, he proceeds to pull the parrot to pieces. as the wings and legs come away, so tumble off the arms and legs of the magician; and finally as the prince wrings the bird's neck, punchkin twists his own head round and dies. the story is also told in the highlands of scotland, and some portions of it will be recognized by the reader as incidents in the arabian tale of the princess parizade. the union of close correspondence in conception with manifest independence in the management of the details of these stories is striking enough, but it is a phenomenon with which we become quite familiar as we proceed in the study of aryan popular literature. the legend of the master thief is no less remarkable than that of punchkin. in the scandinavian tale the thief, wishing to get possession of a farmer's ox, carefully hangs himself to a tree by the roadside. the farmer, passing by with his ox, is indeed struck by the sight of the dangling body, but thinks it none of his business, and does not stop to interfere. no sooner has he passed than the thief lets himself down, and running swiftly along a by-path, hangs himself with equal precaution to a second tree. this time the farmer is astonished and puzzled; but when for the third time he meets the same unwonted spectacle, thinking that three suicides in one morning are too much for easy credence, he leaves his ox and runs back to see whether the other two bodies are really where he thought he saw them. while he is framing hypotheses of witchcraft by which to explain the phenomenon, the thief gets away with the ox. in the hitopadesa the story receives a finer point. "a brahman, who had vowed a sacrifice, went to the market to buy a goat. three thieves saw him, and wanted to get hold of the goat. they stationed themselves at intervals on the high road. when the brahman, who carried the goat on his back, approached the first thief, the thief said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' the brahman replied, 'it is not a dog, it is a goat.' a little while after he was accosted by the second thief, who said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' the brahman felt perplexed, put the goat down, examined it, took it up again, and walked on. soon after he was stopped by the third thief, who said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' then the brahman was frightened, threw down the goat, and walked home to perform his ablutions for having touched an unclean animal. the thieves took the goat and ate it." the adroitness of the norse king in "the three princesses of whiteland" shows but poorly in comparison with the keen psychological insight and cynical sarcasm of these hindu sharpers. in the course of his travels this prince met three brothers fighting on a lonely moor. they had been fighting for a hundred years about the possession of a hat, a cloak, and a pair of boots, which would make the wearer invisible, and convey him instantly whithersoever he might wish to go. the king consents to act as umpire, provided he may once try the virtue of the magic garments; but once clothed in them, of course he disappears, leaving the combatants to sit down and suck their thumbs. now in the "sea of streams of story," written in the twelfth century by somadeva of cashmere, the indian king putraka, wandering in the vindhya mountains, similarly discomfits two brothers who are quarrelling over a pair of shoes, which are like the sandals of hermes, and a bowl which has the same virtue as aladdin's lamp. "why don't you run a race for them?" suggests putraka; and, as the two blockheads start furiously off, he quietly picks up the bowl, ties on the shoes, and flies away! [ ] it is unnecessary to cite further illustrations. the tales here quoted are fair samples of the remarkable correspondence which holds good through all the various sections of aryan folk-lore. the hypothesis of lateral diffusion, as we may call it, manifestly fails to explain coincidences which are maintained on such an immense scale. it is quite credible that one nation may have borrowed from another a solitary legend of an archer who performs the feats of tell and palnatoki; but it is utterly incredible that ten thousand stories, constituting the entire mass of household mythology throughout a dozen separate nations, should have been handed from one to another in this way. no one would venture to suggest that the old grannies of iceland and norway, to whom we owe such stories as the master thief and the princesses of whiteland, had ever read somadeva or heard of the treasures of rhampsinitos. a large proportion of the tales with which we are dealing were utterly unknown to literature until they were taken down by grimm and frere and castren and campbell, from the lips of ignorant peasants, nurses, or house-servants, in germany and hindustan, in siberia and scotland. yet, as mr. cox observes, these old men and women, sitting by the chimney-corner and somewhat timidly recounting to the literary explorer the stories which they had learned in childhood from their own nurses and grandmas, "reproduce the most subtle turns of thought and expression, and an endless series of complicated narratives, in which the order of incidents and the words of the speakers are preserved with a fidelity nowhere paralleled in the oral tradition of historical events. it may safely be said that no series of stories introduced in the form of translations from other languages could ever thus have filtered down into the lowest strata of society, and thence have sprung up again, like antaios, with greater energy and heightened beauty." there is indeed no alternative for us but to admit that these fireside tales have been handed down from parent to child for more than a hundred generations; that the primitive aryan cottager, as he took his evening meal of yava and sipped his fermented mead, listened with his children to the stories of boots and cinderella and the master thief, in the days when the squat laplander was master of europe and the dark-skinned sudra was as yet unmolested in the punjab. only such community of origin can explain the community in character between the stories told by the aryan's descendants, from the jungles of ceylon to the highlands of scotland. this conclusion essentially modifies our view of the origin and growth of a legend like that of william tell. the case of the tell legend is radically different from the case of the blindness of belisarius or the burning of the alexandrian library by order of omar. the latter are isolated stories or beliefs; the former is one of a family of stories or beliefs. the latter are untrustworthy traditions of doubtful events; but in dealing with the former, we are face to face with a myth. what, then, is a myth? the theory of euhemeros, which was so fashionable a century ago, in the days of the abbe banier, has long since been so utterly abandoned that to refute it now is but to slay the slain. the peculiarity of this theory was that it cut away all the extraordinary features of a given myth, wherein dwelt its inmost significance, and to the dull and useless residuum accorded the dignity of primeval history. in this way the myth was lost without compensation, and the student, in seeking good digestible bread, found but the hardest of pebbles. considered merely as a pretty story, the legend of the golden fruit watched by the dragon in the garden of the hesperides is not without its value. but what merit can there be in the gratuitous statement which, degrading the grand doric hero to a level with any vulgar fruit-stealer, makes herakles break a close with force and arms, and carry off a crop of oranges which had been guarded by mastiffs? it is still worse when we come to the more homely folk-lore with which the student of mythology now has to deal. the theories of banier, which limped and stumbled awkwardly enough when it was only a question of hermes and minos and odin, have fallen never to rise again since the problems of punchkin and cinderella and the blue belt have begun to demand solution. the conclusion has been gradually forced upon the student, that the marvellous portion of these old stories is no illegitimate extres-cence, but was rather the pith and centre of the whole, [ ] in days when there was no supernatural, because it had not yet been discovered that there was such a thing as nature. the religious myths of antiquity and the fireside legends of ancient and modern times have their common root in the mental habits of primeval humanity. they are the earliest recorded utterances of men concerning the visible phenomena of the world into which they were born. that prosaic and coldly rational temper with which modern men are wont to regard natural phenomena was in early times unknown. we have come to regard all events as taking place regularly, in strict conformity to law: whatever our official theories may be, we instinctively take this view of things. but our primitive ancestors knew nothing about laws of nature, nothing about physical forces, nothing about the relations of cause and effect, nothing about the necessary regularity of things. there was a time in the history of mankind when these things had never been inquired into, and when no generalizations about them had been framed, tested, or established. there was no conception of an order of nature, and therefore no distinct conception of a supernatural order of things. there was no belief in miracles as infractions of natural laws, but there was a belief in the occurrence of wonderful events too mighty to have been brought about by ordinary means. there was an unlimited capacity for believing and fancying, because fancy and belief had not yet been checked and headed off in various directions by established rules of experience. physical science is a very late acquisition of the human mind, but we are already sufficiently imbued with it to be almost completely disabled from comprehending the thoughts of our ancestors. "how finn cosmogonists could have believed the earth and heaven to be made out of a severed egg, the upper concave shell representing heaven, the yolk being earth, and the crystal surrounding fluid the circumambient ocean, is to us incomprehensible; and yet it remains a fact that they did so regard them. how the scandinavians could have supposed the mountains to be the mouldering bones of a mighty jotun, and the earth to be his festering flesh, we cannot conceive; yet such a theory was solemnly taught and accepted. how the ancient indians could regard the rain-clouds as cows with full udders milked by the winds of heaven is beyond our comprehension, and yet their veda contains indisputable testimony to the fact that they were so regarded." we have only to read mr. baring-gould's book of "curious myths," from which i have just quoted, or to dip into mr. thorpe's treatise on "northern mythology," to realize how vast is the difference between our stand-point and that from which, in the later middle ages, our immediate forefathers regarded things. the frightful superstition of werewolves is a good instance. in those days it was firmly believed that men could be, and were in the habit of being, transformed into wolves. it was believed that women might bring forth snakes or poodle-dogs. it was believed that if a man had his side pierced in battle, you could cure him by nursing the sword which inflicted the wound. "as late as a german writer would illustrate a thunder-storm destroying a crop of corn by a picture of a dragon devouring the produce of the field with his flaming tongue and iron teeth." now if such was the condition of the human intellect only three or four centuries ago, what must it have been in that dark antiquity when not even the crudest generalizations of greek or of oriental science had been reached? the same mighty power of imagination which now, restrained and guided by scientific principles, leads us to discoveries and inventions, must then have wildly run riot in mythologic fictions whereby to explain the phenomena of nature. knowing nothing whatever of physical forces, of the blind steadiness with which a given effect invariably follows its cause, the men of primeval antiquity could interpret the actions of nature only after the analogy of their own actions. the only force they knew was the force of which they were directly conscious,--the force of will. accordingly, they imagined all the outward world to be endowed with volition, and to be directed by it. they personified everything,--sky, clouds, thunder, sun, moon, ocean, earthquake, whirlwind. [ ] the comparatively enlightened athenians of the age of perikles addressed the sky as a person, and prayed to it to rain upon their gardens. [ ] and for calling the moon a mass of dead matter, anaxagoras came near losing his life. to the ancients the moon was not a lifeless ball of stones and clods: it was the horned huntress, artemis, coursing through the upper ether, or bathing herself in the clear lake; or it was aphrodite, protectress of lovers, born of the sea-foam in the east near cyprus. the clouds were no bodies of vaporized water: they were cows with swelling udders, driven to the milking by hermes, the summer wind; or great sheep with moist fleeces, slain by the unerring arrows of bellerophon, the sun; or swan-maidens, flitting across the firmament, valkyries hovering over the battle-field to receive the souls of falling heroes; or, again, they were mighty mountains piled one above another, in whose cavernous recesses the divining-wand of the storm-god thor revealed hidden treasures. the yellow-haired sun, phoibos, drove westerly all day in his flaming chariot; or perhaps, as meleagros, retired for a while in disgust from the sight of men; wedded at eventide the violet light (oinone, iole), which he had forsaken in the morning; sank, as herakles, upon a blazing funeral-pyre, or, like agamemnon, perished in a blood-stained bath; or, as the fish-god, dagon, swam nightly through the subterranean waters, to appear eastward again at daybreak. sometimes phaethon, his rash, inexperienced son, would take the reins and drive the solar chariot too near the earth, causing the fruits to perish, and the grass to wither, and the wells to dry up. sometimes, too, the great all-seeing divinity, in his wrath at the impiety of men, would shoot down his scorching arrows, causing pestilence to spread over the land. still other conceptions clustered around the sun. now it was the wonderful treasure-house, into which no one could look and live; and again it was ixion himself, bound on the fiery wheel in punishment for violence offered to here, the queen of the blue air. this theory of ancient mythology is not only beautiful and plausible, it is, in its essential points, demonstrated. it stands on as firm a foundation as grimm's law in philology, or the undulatory theory in molecular physics. it is philology which has here enabled us to read the primitive thoughts of mankind. a large number of the names of greek gods and heroes have no meaning in the greek language; but these names occur also in sanskrit, with plain physical meanings. in the veda we find zeus or jupiter (dyaus-pitar) meaning the sky, and sarameias or hermes, meaning the breeze of a summer morning. we find athene (ahana), meaning the light of daybreak; and we are thus enabled to understand why the greek described her as sprung from the forehead of zeus. there too we find helena (sarama), the fickle twilight, whom the panis, or night-demons, who serve as the prototypes of the hellenic paris, strive to seduce from her allegiance to the solar monarch. even achilleus (aharyu) again confronts us, with his captive briseis (brisaya's offspring); and the fierce kerberos (carvara) barks on vedic ground in strict conformity to the laws of phonetics. [ ] now, when the hindu talked about father dyaus, or the sleek kine of siva, he thought of the personified sky and clouds; he had not outgrown the primitive mental habits of the race. but the greek, in whose language these physical meanings were lost, had long before the homeric epoch come to regard zeus and hermes, athene, helena, paris, and achilleus, as mere persons, and in most cases the originals of his myths were completely forgotten. in the vedas the trojan war is carried on in the sky, between the bright deities and the demons of night; but the greek poet, influenced perhaps by some dim historical tradition, has located the contest on the shore of the hellespont, and in his mind the actors, though superhuman, are still completely anthropomorphic. of the true origin of his epic story he knew as little as euhemeros, or lord bacon, or the abbe banier. after these illustrations, we shall run no risk of being misunderstood when we define a myth as, in its origin, an explanation, by the uncivilized mind, of some natural phenomenon; not an allegory, not an esoteric symbol,--for the ingenuity is wasted which strives to detect in myths the remnants of a refined primeval science,--but an explanation. primitive men had no profound science to perpetuate by means of allegory, nor were they such sorry pedants as to talk in riddles when plain language would serve their purpose. their minds, we may be sure, worked like our own, and when they spoke of the far-darting sun-god, they meant just what they said, save that where we propound a scientific theorem, they constructed a myth. [ ] a thing is said to be explained when it is classified with other things with which we are already acquainted. that is the only kind of explanation of which the highest science is capable. we explain the origin, progress, and ending of a thunder-storm, when we classify the phenomena presented by it along with other more familiar phenomena of vaporization and condensation. but the primitive man explained the same thing to his own satisfaction when he had classified it along with the well-known phenomena of human volition, by constructing a theory of a great black dragon pierced by the unerring arrows of a heavenly archer. we consider the nature of the stars to a certain extent explained when they are classified as suns; but the mohammedan compiler of the "mishkat-ul-ma'sabih" was content to explain them as missiles useful for stoning the devil! now, as soon as the old greek, forgetting the source of his conception, began to talk of a human oidipous slaying a leonine sphinx, and as soon as the mussulman began, if he ever did, to tell his children how the devil once got a good pelting with golden bullets, then both the one and the other were talking pure mythology. we are justified, accordingly, in distinguishing between a myth and a legend. though the words are etymologically parallel, and though in ordinary discourse we may use them interchangeably, yet when strict accuracy is required, it is well to keep them separate. and it is perhaps needless, save for the sake of completeness, to say that both are to be distinguished from stories which have been designedly fabricated. the distinction may occasionally be subtle, but is usually broad enough. thus, the story that philip ii. murdered his wife elizabeth, is a misrepresentation; but the story that the same elizabeth was culpably enamoured of her step-son don carlos, is a legend. the story that queen eleanor saved the life of her husband, edward i., by sucking a wound made in his arm by a poisoned arrow, is a legend; but the story that hercules killed a great robber, cacus, who had stolen his cattle, conceals a physical meaning, and is a myth. while a legend is usually confined to one or two localities, and is told of not more than one or two persons, it is characteristic of a myth that it is spread, in one form or another, over a large part of the earth, the leading incidents remaining constant, while the names and often the motives vary with each locality. this is partly due to the immense antiquity of myths, dating as they do from a period when many nations, now widely separated, had not yet ceased to form one people. thus many elements of the myth of the trojan war are to be found in the rig-veda; and the myth of st. george and the dragon is found in all the aryan nations. but we must not always infer that myths have a common descent, merely because they resemble each other. we must remember that the proceedings of the uncultivated mind are more or less alike in all latitudes, and that the same phenomenon might in various places independently give rise to similar stories. [ ] the myth of jack and the beanstalk is found not only among people of aryan descent, but also among the zulus of south africa, and again among the american indians. whenever we can trace a story in this way from one end of the world to the other, or through a whole family of kindred nations, we are pretty safe in assuming that we are dealing with a true myth, and not with a mere legend. applying these considerations to the tell myth, we at once obtain a valid explanation of its origin. the conception of infallible skill in archery, which underlies such a great variety of myths and popular fairy-tales, is originally derived from the inevitable victory of the sun over his enemies, the demons of night, winter, and tempest. arrows and spears which never miss their mark, swords from whose blow no armour can protect, are invariably the weapons of solar divinities or heroes. the shafts of bellerophon never fail to slay the black demon of the rain-cloud, and the bolt of phoibos chrysaor deals sure destruction to the serpent of winter. odysseus, warring against the impious night-heroes, who have endeavoured throughout ten long years or hours of darkness to seduce from her allegiance his twilight-bride, the weaver of the never-finished web of violet clouds,--odysseus, stripped of his beggar's raiment and endowed with fresh youth and beauty by the dawn-goddess, athene, engages in no doubtful conflict as he raises the bow which none but himself can bend. nor is there less virtue in the spear of achilleus, in the swords of perseus and sigurd, in roland's stout blade durandal, or in the brand excalibur, with which sir bedivere was so loath to part. all these are solar weapons, and so, too, are the arrows of tell and palnatoki, egil and hemingr, and william of cloudeslee, whose surname proclaims him an inhabitant of the phaiakian land. william tell, whether of cloudland or of altdorf, is the last reflection of the beneficent divinity of daytime and summer, constrained for a while to obey the caprice of the powers of cold and darkness, as apollo served laomedon, and herakles did the bidding of eurystheus. his solar character is well preserved, even in the sequel of the swiss legend, in which he appears no less skilful as a steersman than as an archer, and in which, after traversing, like dagon, the tempestuous sea of night, he leaps at daybreak in regained freedom upon the land, and strikes down the oppressor who has held him in bondage. but the sun, though ever victorious in open contest with his enemies, is nevertheless not invulnerable. at times he succumbs to treachery, is bound by the frost-giants, or slain by the demons of darkness. the poisoned shirt of the cloud-fiend nessos is fatal even to the mighty herakles, and the prowess of siegfried at last fails to save him from the craft of hagen. in achilleus and meleagros we see the unhappy solar hero doomed to toil for the profit of others, and to be cut off by an untimely death. the more fortunate odysseus, who lives to a ripe old age, and triumphs again and again over all the powers of darkness, must nevertheless yield to the craving desire to visit new cities and look upon new works of strange men, until at last he is swallowed up in the western sea. that the unrivalled navigator of the celestial ocean should disappear beneath the western waves is as intelligible as it is that the horned venus or astarte should rise from the sea in the far east. it is perhaps less obvious that winter should be so frequently symbolized as a thorn or sharp instrument. achilleus dies by an arrow-wound in the heel; the thigh of adonis is pierced by the boar's tusk, while odysseus escapes with an ugly scar, which afterwards secures his recognition by his old servant, the dawn-nymph eurykleia; sigurd is slain by a thorn, and balder by a sharp sprig of mistletoe; and in the myth of the sleeping beauty, the earth-goddess sinks into her long winter sleep when pricked by the point of the spindle. in her cosmic palace, all is locked in icy repose, naught thriving save the ivy which defies the cold, until the kiss of the golden-haired sun-god reawakens life and activity. the wintry sleep of nature is symbolized in innumerable stories of spell-bound maidens and fair-featured youths, saints, martyrs, and heroes. sometimes it is the sun, sometimes the earth, that is supposed to slumber. among the american indians the sun-god michabo is said to sleep through the winter months; and at the time of the falling leaves, by way of composing himself for his nap, he fills his great pipe and divinely smokes; the blue clouds, gently floating over the landscape, fill the air with the haze of indian summer. in the greek myth the shepherd endymion preserves his freshness in a perennial slumber. the german siegfried, pierced by the thorn of winter, is sleeping until he shall be again called forth to fight. in switzerland, by the vierwald-stattersee, three tells are awaiting the hour when their country shall again need to be delivered from the oppressor. charlemagne is reposing in the untersberg, sword in hand, waiting for the coming of antichrist; olger danske similarly dreams away his time in avallon; and in a lofty mountain in thuringia, the great emperor yrederic barbarossa slumbers with his knights around him, until the time comes for him to sally forth and raise germany to the first rank among the kingdoms of the world. the same story is told of olaf tryggvesson, of don sebastian of portugal, and of the moorish king boabdil. the seven sleepers of ephesus, having taken refuge in a cave from the persecutions of the heathen decius, slept one hundred and sixty-four years, and awoke to find a christian emperor on the throne. the monk of hildesheim, in the legend so beautifully rendered by longfellow, doubting how with god a thousand years ago could be as yesterday, listened three minutes entranced by the singing of a bird in the forest, and found, on waking from his revery, that a thousand years had flown. to the same family of legends belong the notion that st. john is sleeping at ephesus until the last days of the world; the myth of the enchanter merlin, spell-bound by vivien; the story of the cretan philosopher epimenides, who dozed away fifty-seven years in a cave; and rip van winkle's nap in the catskills. [ ] we might go on almost indefinitely citing household tales of wonderful sleepers; but, on the principle of the association of opposites, we are here reminded of sundry cases of marvellous life and wakefulness, illustrated in the wandering jew; the dancers of kolbeck; joseph of arimathaea with the holy grail; the wild huntsman who to all eternity chases the red deer; the captain of the phantom ship; the classic tithonos; and the man in the moon. the lunar spots have afforded a rich subject for the play of human fancy. plutarch wrote a treatise on them, but the myth-makers had been before him. "every one," says mr. baring-gould, "knows that the moon is inhabited by a man with a bundle of sticks on his back, who has been exiled thither for many centuries, and who is so far off that he is beyond the reach of death. he has once visited this earth, if the nursery rhyme is to be credited when it asserts that 'the man in the moon came down too soon and asked his way to norwich'; but whether he ever reached that city the same authority does not state." dante calls him cain; chaucer has him put up there as a punishment for theft, and gives him a thorn-bush to carry; shakespeare also loads him with the thorns, but by way of compensation gives him a dog for a companion. ordinarily, however, his offence is stated to have been, not stealing, but sabbath-breaking,--an idea derived from the old testament. like the man mentioned in the book of numbers, he is caught gathering sticks on the sabbath; and, as an example to mankind, he is condemned to stand forever in the moon, with his bundle on his back. instead of a dog, one german version places with him a woman, whose crime was churning butter on sunday. she carries her butter-tub; and this brings us to mother goose again:-- "jack and jill went up the hill to get a pail of water. jack fell down and broke his crown, and jill came tumbling after." this may read like mere nonsense; but there is a point of view from which it may be safely said that there is very little absolute nonsense in the world. the story of jack and jill is a venerable one. in icelandic mythology we read that jack and jill were two children whom the moon once kidnapped and carried up to heaven. they had been drawing water in a bucket, which they were carrying by means of a pole placed across their shoulders; and in this attitude they have stood to the present day in the moon. even now this explanation of the moon-spots is to be heard from the mouths of swedish peasants. they fall away one after the other, as the moon wanes, and their water-pail symbolizes the supposed connection of the moon with rain-storms. other forms of the myth occur in sanskrit. the moon-goddess, or aphrodite, of the ancient germans, was called horsel, or ursula, who figures in christian mediaeval mythology as a persecuted saint, attended by a troop of eleven thousand virgins, who all suffer martyrdom as they journey from england to cologne. the meaning of the myth is obvious. in german mythology, england is the phaiakian land of clouds and phantoms; the succubus, leaving her lover before daybreak, excuses herself on the plea that "her mother is calling her in england." [ ] the companions of ursula are the pure stars, who leave the cloudland and suffer martyrdom as they approach the regions of day. in the christian tradition, ursula is the pure artemis; but, in accordance with her ancient character, she is likewise the sensual aphrodite, who haunts the venusberg; and this brings us to the story of tannhauser. the horselberg, or mountain of venus, lies in thuringia, between eisenach and gotha. high up on its slope yawns a cavern, the horselloch, or cave of venus within which is heard a muffled roar, as of subterranean water. from this cave, in old times, the frightened inhabitants of the neighbouring valley would hear at night wild moans and cries issuing, mingled with peals of demon-like laughter. here it was believed that venus held her court; "and there were not a few who declared that they had seen fair forms of female beauty beckoning them from the mouth of the chasm." [ ] tannhauser was a frankish knight and famous minnesinger, who, travelling at twilight past the horselberg, "saw a white glimmering figure of matchless beauty standing before him and beckoning him to her." leaving his horse, he went up to meet her, whom he knew to be none other than venus. he descended to her palace in the heart of the mountain, and there passed seven years in careless revelry. then, stricken with remorse and yearning for another glimpse of the pure light of day, he called in agony upon the virgin mother, who took compassion on him and released him. he sought a village church, and to priest after priest confessed his sin, without obtaining absolution, until finally he had recourse to the pope. but the holy father, horrified at the enormity of his misdoing, declared that guilt such as his could never be remitted sooner should the staff in his hand grow green and blossom. "then tannhauser, full of despair and with his soul darkened, went away, and returned to the only asylum open to him, the venusberg. but lo! three days after he had gone, pope urban discovered that his pastoral staff had put forth buds and had burst into flower. then he sent messengers after tannhauser, and they reached the horsel vale to hear that a wayworn man, with haggard brow and bowed head, had just entered the horselloch. since then tannhauser has not been seen." (p. .) as mr. baring-gould rightly observes, this sad legend, in its christianized form, is doubtless descriptive of the struggle between the new and the old faiths. the knightly tannhauser, satiated with pagan sensuality, turns to christianity for relief, but, repelled by the hypocrisy, pride, and lack of sympathy of its ministers, gives up in despair, and returns to drown his anxieties in his old debauchery. but this is not the primitive form of the myth, which recurs in the folk-lore of every people of aryan descent. who, indeed, can read it without being at once reminded of thomas of erceldoune (or horsel-hill), entranced by the sorceress of the eilden; of the nightly visits of numa to the grove of the nymph egeria; of odysseus held captive by the lady kalypso; and, last but not least, of the delightful arabian tale of prince ahmed and the peri banou? on his westward journey, odysseus is ensnared and kept in temporary bondage by the amorous nymph of darkness, kalypso (kalnptw, to veil or cover). so the zone of the moon-goddess aphrodite inveigles all-seeing zeus to treacherous slumber on mount ida; and by a similar sorcery tasso's great hero is lulled in unseemly idleness in armida's golden paradise, at the western verge of the world. the disappearance of tannhauser behind the moonlit cliff, lured by venus ursula, the pale goddess of night, is a precisely parallel circumstance. but solar and lunar phenomena are by no means the only sources of popular mythology. opposite my writing-table hangs a quaint german picture, illustrating goethe's ballad of the erlking, in which the whole wild pathos of the story is compressed into one supreme moment; we see the fearful, half-gliding rush of the erlking, his long, spectral arms outstretched to grasp the child, the frantic gallop of the horse, the alarmed father clasping his darling to his bosom in convulsive embrace, the siren-like elves hovering overhead, to lure the little soul with their weird harps. there can be no better illustration than is furnished by this terrible scene of the magic power of mythology to invest the simplest physical phenomena with the most intense human interest; for the true significance of the whole picture is contained in the father's address to his child, "sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein kind; in durren blattern sauselt der wind." the story of the piper of hamelin, well known in the version of robert browning, leads to the same conclusion. in the good people of hamelin could obtain no rest, night or day, by reason of the direful host of rats which infested their town. one day came a strange man in a bunting-suit, and offered for five hundred guilders to rid the town of the vermin. the people agreed: whereupon the man took out a pipe and piped, and instantly all the rats in town, in an army which blackened the face of the earth, came forth from their haunts, and followed the piper until he piped them to the river weser, where they alls jumped in and were drowned. but as soon as the torment was gone, the townsfolk refused to pay the piper on the ground that he was evidently a wizard. he went away, vowing vengeance, and on st. john's day reappeared, and putting his pipe to his mouth blew a different air. whereat all the little, plump, rosy-cheeked, golden-haired children came merrily running after him, their parents standing aghast, not knowing what to do, while he led them up a hill in the neighbourhood. a door opened in the mountain-side, through which he led them in, and they never were seen again; save one lame boy, who hobbled not fast enough to get in before the door shut, and who lamented for the rest of his life that he had not been able to share the rare luck of his comrades. in the street through which this procession passed no music was ever afterwards allowed to be played. for a long time the town dated its public documents from this fearful calamity, and many authorities have treated it as an historical event. [ ] similar stories are told of other towns in germany, and, strange to say, in remote abyssinia also. wesleyan peasants in england believe that angels pipe to children who are about to die; and in scandinavia, youths are said to have been enticed away by the songs of elf-maidens. in greece, the sirens by their magic lay allured voyagers to destruction; and orpheus caused the trees and dumb beasts to follow him. here we reach the explanation. for orpheus is the wind sighing through untold acres of pine forest. "the piper is no other than the wind, and the ancients held that in the wind were the souls of the dead." to this day the english peasantry believe that they hear the wail of the spirits of unbaptized children, as the gale sweeps past their cottage doors. the greek hermes resulted from the fusion of two deities. he is the sun and also the wind; and in the latter capacity he bears away the souls of the dead. so the norse odin, who like hermes fillfils a double function, is supposed to rush at night over the tree-tops, "accompanied by the scudding train of brave men's spirits." and readers of recent french literature cannot fail to remember erokmann-chatrian's terrible story of the wild huntsman vittikab, and how he sped through the forest, carrying away a young girl's soul. thus, as tannhauser is the northern ulysses, so is goethe's erlking none other than the piper of hamelin. and the piper, in turn, is the classic hermes or orpheus, the counterpart of the finnish wainamoinen and the sanskrit gunadhya. his wonderful pipe is the horn of oberon, the lyre of apollo (who, like the piper, was a rat-killer), the harp stolen by jack when he climbed the bean-stalk to the ogre's castle. [ ] and the father, in goethe's ballad, is no more than right when he assures his child that the siren voice which tempts him is but the rustle of the wind among the dried leaves; for from such a simple class of phenomena arose this entire family of charming legends. but why does the piper, who is a leader of souls (psychopompos), also draw rats after him? in answering this we shall have occasion to note that the ancients by no means shared that curious prejudice against the brute creation which is indulged in by modern anti-darwinians. in many countries, rats and mice have been regarded as sacred animals; but in germany they were thought to represent the human soul. one story out of a hundred must suffice to illustrate this. "in thuringia, at saalfeld, a servant-girl fell asleep whilst her companions were shelling nuts. they observed a little red mouse creep from her mouth and run out of the window. one of the fellows present shook the sleeper, but could not wake her, so he moved her to another place. presently the mouse ran back to the former place and dashed about, seeking the girl; not finding her, it vanished; at the same moment the girl died." [ ] this completes the explanation of the piper, and it also furnishes the key to the horrible story of bishop hatto. this wicked prelate lived on the bank of the rhine, in the middle of which stream he possessed a tower, now pointed out to travellers as the mouse tower. in the year there was a dreadful famine, and people came from far and near craving sustenance out of the bishop's ample and well-filled granaries. well, he told them all to go into the barn, and when they had got in there, as many as could stand, he set fire to the barn and burnt them all up, and went home to eat a merry supper. but when he arose next morning, he heard that an army of rats had eaten all the corn in his granaries, and was now advancing to storm the palace. looking from his window, he saw the roads and fields dark with them, as they came with fell purpose straight toward his mansion. in frenzied terror he took his boat and rowed out to the tower in the river. but it was of no use: down into the water marched the rats, and swam across, and scaled the walls, and gnawed through the stones, and came swarming in about the shrieking bishop, and ate him up, flesh, bones, and all. now, bearing in mind what was said above, there can be no doubt that these rats were the souls of those whom the bishop had murdered. there are many versions of the story in different teutonic countries, and in some of them the avenging rats or mice issue directly, by a strange metamorphosis, from the corpses of the victims. st. gertrude, moreover, the heathen holda, was symbolized as a mouse, and was said go lead an army of mice; she was the receiver of children's souls. odin, also, in his character of a psychopompos, was followed by a host of rats. [ ] as the souls of the departed are symbolized as rats, so is the psychopomp himself often figured as a dog. sarameias, the vedic counterpart of hermes and odin, sometimes appears invested with canine attributes; and countless other examples go to show that by the early aryan mind the howling wind was conceived as a great dog or wolf. as the fearful beast was heard speeding by the windows or over the house-top, the inmates trembled, for none knew but his own soul might forthwith be required of him. hence, to this day, among ignorant people, the howling of a dog under the window is supposed to portend a death in the family. it is the fleet greyhound of hermes, come to escort the soul to the river styx. [ ] but the wind-god is not always so terrible. nothing can be more transparent than the phraseology of the homeric hymn, in which hermes is described as acquiring the strength of a giant while yet a babe in the cradle, as sallying out and stealing the cattle (clouds) of apollo, and driving them helter-skelter in various directions, then as crawling through the keyhole, and with a mocking laugh shrinking into his cradle. he is the master thief, who can steal the burgomaster's horse from under him and his wife's mantle from off her back, the prototype not only of the crafty architect of rhampsinitos, but even of the ungrateful slave who robs sancho of his mule in the sierra morena. he furnishes in part the conceptions of boots and reynard; he is the prototype of paul pry and peeping tom of coventry; and in virtue of his ability to contract or expand himself at pleasure, he is both the devil in the norse tale, [ ] whom the lad persuades to enter a walnut, and the arabian efreet, whom the fisherman releases from the bottle. the very interesting series of myths and popular superstitions suggested by the storm-cloud and the lightning must be reserved for a future occasion. when carefully examined, they will richly illustrate the conclusion which is the result of the present inquiry, that the marvellous tales and quaint superstitions current in every aryan household have a common origin with the classic legends of gods and heroes, which formerly were alone thought worthy of the student's serious attention. these stories--some of them familiar to us in infancy, others the delight of our maturer years--constitute the debris, or alluvium, brought down by the stream of tradition from the distant highlands of ancient mythology. september, . ii. the descent of fire. in the course of my last summer's vacation, which was spent at a small inland village, i came upon an unexpected illustration of the tenacity with which conceptions descended from prehistoric antiquity have now and then kept their hold upon life. while sitting one evening under the trees by the roadside, my attention was called to the unusual conduct of half a dozen men and boys who were standing opposite. an elderly man was moving slowly up and down the road, holding with both hands a forked twig of hazel, shaped like the letter y inverted. with his palms turned upward, he held in each hand a branch of the twig in such a way that the shank pointed upward; but every few moments, as he halted over a certain spot, the twig would gradually bend downwards until it had assumed the likeness of a y in its natural position, where it would remain pointing to something in the ground beneath. one by one the bystanders proceeded to try the experiment, but with no variation in the result. something in the ground seemed to fascinate the bit of hazel, for it could not pass over that spot without bending down and pointing to it. my thoughts reverted at once to jacques aymar and dousterswivel, as i perceived that these men were engaged in sorcery. during the long drought more than half the wells in the village had become dry, and here was an attempt to make good the loss by the aid of the god thor. these men were seeking water with a divining-rod. here, alive before my eyes, was a superstitious observance, which i had supposed long since dead and forgotten by all men except students interested in mythology. as i crossed the road to take part in the ceremony a farmer's boy came up, stoutly affirming his incredulity, and offering to show the company how he could carry the rod motionless across the charmed spot. but when he came to take the weird twig he trembled with an ill-defined feeling of insecurity as to the soundness of his conclusions, and when he stood over the supposed rivulet the rod bent in spite of him,--as was not so very strange. for, with all his vague scepticism, the honest lad had not, and could not be supposed to have, the foi scientifique of which littre speaks. [ ] hereupon i requested leave to try the rod; but something in my manner seemed at once to excite the suspicion and scorn of the sorcerer. "yes, take it," said he, with uncalled-for vehemence, "but you can't stop it; there's water below here, and you can't help its bending, if you break your back trying to hold it." so he gave me the twig, and awaited, with a smile which was meant to express withering sarcasm, the discomfiture of the supposed scoffer. but when i proceeded to walk four or five times across the mysterious place, the rod pointing steadfastly toward the zenith all the while, our friend became grave and began to philosophize. "well," said he, "you see, your temperament is peculiar; the conditions ain't favourable in your case; there are some people who never can work these things. but there's water below here, for all that, as you'll find, if you dig for it; there's nothing like a hazel-rod for finding out water." very true: there are some persons who never can make such things work; who somehow always encounter "unfavourable conditions" when they wish to test the marvellous powers of a clairvoyant; who never can make "planchette" move in conformity to the requirements of any known alphabet; who never see ghosts, and never have "presentiments," save such as are obviously due to association of ideas. the ill-success of these persons is commonly ascribed to their lack of faith; but, in the majority of cases, it might be more truly referred to the strength of their faith,--faith in the constancy of nature, and in the adequacy of ordinary human experience as interpreted by science. [ ] la foi scientifique is an excellent preventive against that obscure, though not uncommon, kind of self-deception which enables wooden tripods to write and tables to tip and hazel-twigs to twist upside-down, without the conscious intervention of the performer. it was this kind of faith, no doubt, which caused the discomfiture of jacques aymar on his visit to paris, [ ] and which has in late years prevented persons from obtaining the handsome prize offered by the french academy for the first authentic case of clairvoyance. but our village friend, though perhaps constructively right in his philosophizing, was certainly very defective in his acquaintance with the time-honoured art of rhabdomancy. had he extended his inquiries so as to cover the field of indo-european tradition, he would have learned that the mountain-ash, the mistletoe, the white and black thorn, the hindu asvattha, and several other woods, are quite as efficient as the hazel for the purpose of detecting water in times of drought; and in due course of time he would have perceived that the divining-rod itself is but one among a large class of things to which popular belief has ascribed, along with other talismanic properties, the power of opening the ground or cleaving rocks, in order to reveal hidden treasures. leaving him in peace, then, with his bit of forked hazel, to seek for cooling springs in some future thirsty season, let us endeavour to elucidate the origin of this curious superstition. the detection of subterranean water is by no means the only use to which the divining-rod has been put. among the ancient frisians it was regularly used for the detection of criminals; and the reputation of jacques aymar was won by his discovery of the perpetrator of a horrible murder at lyons. throughout europe it has been used from time immemorial by miners for ascertaining the position of veins of metal; and in the days when talents were wrapped in napkins and buried in the field, instead of being exposed to the risks of financial speculation, the divining-rod was employed by persons covetous of their neighbours' wealth. if boulatruelle had lived in the sixteenth century, he would have taken a forked stick of hazel when he went to search for the buried treasures of jean valjean. it has also been applied to the cure of disease, and has been kept in households, like a wizard's charm, to insure general good-fortune and immunity from disaster. as we follow the conception further into the elf-land of popular tradition, we come upon a rod which not only points out the situation of hidden treasure, but even splits open the ground and reveals the mineral wealth contained therein. in german legend, "a shepherd, who was driving his flock over the ilsenstein, having stopped to rest, leaning on his staff, the mountain suddenly opened, for there was a springwort in his staff without his knowing it, and the princess [ilse] stood before him. she bade him follow her, and when he was inside the mountain she told him to take as much gold as he pleased. the shepherd filled all his pockets, and was going away, when the princess called after him, 'forget not the best.' so, thinking she meant that he had not taken enough, he filled his hat also; but what she meant was his staff with the springwort, which he had laid against the wall as soon as he stepped in. but now, just as he was going out at the opening, the rock suddenly slammed together and cut him in two." [ ] here the rod derives its marvellous properties from the enclosed springwort, but in many cases a leaf or flower is itself competent to open the hillside. the little blue flower, forget-me-not, about which so many sentimental associations have clustered, owes its name to the legends told of its talismanic virtues. [ ] a man, travelling on a lonely mountain, picks up a little blue flower and sticks it in his hat. forthwith an iron door opens, showing up a lighted passage-way, through which the man advances into a magnificent hall, where rubies and diamonds and all other kinds of gems are lying piled in great heaps on the floor. as he eagerly fills his pockets his hat drops from his head, and when he turns to go out the little flower calls after him, "forget me not!" he turns back and looks around, but is too bewildered with his good fortune to think of his bare head or of the luck-flower which he has let fall. he selects several more of the finest jewels he can find, and again starts to go out; but as he passes through the door the mountain closes amid the crashing of thunder, and cuts off one of his heels. alone, in the gloom of the forest, he searches in vain for the mysterious door: it has disappeared forever, and the traveller goes on his way, thankful, let us hope, that he has fared no worse. sometimes it is a white lady, like the princess ilse, who invites the finder of the luck-flower to help himself to her treasures, and who utters the enigmatical warning. the mountain where the event occurred may be found almost anywhere in germany, and one just like it stood in persia, in the golden prime of haroun alraschid. in the story of the forty thieves, the mere name of the plant sesame serves as a talisman to open and shut the secret door which leads into the robbers' cavern; and when the avaricious cassim baba, absorbed in the contemplation of the bags of gold and bales of rich merchandise, forgets the magic formula, he meets no better fate than the shepherd of the ilsenstein. in the story of prince ahmed, it is an enchanted arrow which guides the young adventurer through the hillside to the grotto of the peri banou. in the tale of baba abdallah, it is an ointment rubbed on the eyelid which reveals at a single glance all the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth. the ancient romans also had their rock-breaking plant, called saxifraga, or "sassafras." and the further we penetrate into this charmed circle of traditions the more evident does it appear that the power of cleaving rocks or shattering hard substances enters, as a primitive element, into the conception of these treasure-showing talismans. mr. baring-gould has given an excellent account of the rabbinical legends concerning the wonderful schamir, by the aid of which solomon was said to have built his temple. from asmodeus, prince of the jann, benaiah, the son of jehoiada, wrested the secret of a worm no bigger than a barley-corn, which could split the hardest substance. this worm was called schamir. "if solomon desired to possess himself of the worm, he must find the nest of the moor-hen, and cover it with a plate of glass, so that the mother bird could not get at her young without breaking the glass. she would seek schamir for the purpose, and the worm must be obtained from her." as the jewish king did need the worm in order to hew the stones for that temple which was to be built without sound of hammer, or axe, or any tool of iron, [ ] he sent benaiah to obtain it. according to another account, schamir was a mystic stone which enabled solomon to penetrate the earth in search of mineral wealth. directed by a jinni, the wise king covered a raven's eggs with a plate of crystal, and thus obtained schamir which the bird brought in order to break the plate. [ ] in these traditions, which may possibly be of aryan descent, due to the prolonged intercourse between the jews and the persians, a new feature is added to those before enumerated: the rock-splitting talisman is always found in the possession of a bird. the same feature in the myth reappears on aryan soil. the springwort, whose marvellous powers we have noticed in the case of the ilsenstein shepherd, is obtained, according to pliny, by stopping up the hole in a tree where a woodpecker keeps its young. the bird flies away, and presently returns with the springwort, which it applies to the plug, causing it to shoot out with a loud explosion. the same account is given in german folk-lore. elsewhere, as in iceland, normandy, and ancient greece, the bird is an eagle, a swallow, an ostrich, or a hoopoe. in the icelandic and pomeranian myths the schamir, or "raven-stone," also renders its possessor invisible,--a property which it shares with one of the treasure-finding plants, the fern. [ ] in this respect it resembles the ring of gyges, as in its divining and rock-splitting qualities it resembles that other ring which the african magrician gave to aladdin, to enable him to descend into the cavern where stood the wonderful lamp. according to one north german tradition, the luck-flower also will make its finder invisible at pleasure. but, as the myth shrewdly adds, it is absolutely essential that the flower be found by accident: he who seeks for it never finds it! thus all cavils are skilfully forestalled, even if not satisfactorily disposed of. the same kind of reasoning is favoured by our modern dealers in mystery: somehow the "conditions" always are askew whenever a scientific observer wishes to test their pretensions. in the north of europe schamir appears strangely and grotesquely metamorphosed. the hand of a man that has been hanged, when dried and prepared with certain weird unguents and set on fire, is known as the hand of glory; and as it not only bursts open all safe-locks, but also lulls to sleep all persons within the circle of its influence, it is of course invaluable to thieves and burglars. i quote the following story from thorpe's "northern mythology": "two fellows once came to huy, who pretended to be exceedingly fatigued, and when they had supped would not retire to a sleeping-room, but begged their host would allow them to take a nap on the hearth. but the maid-servant, who did not like the looks of the two guests, remained by the kitchen door and peeped through a chink, when she saw that one of them drew a thief's hand from his pocket, the fingers of which, after having rubbed them with an ointment, he lighted, and they all burned except one. again they held this finger to the fire, but still it would not burn, at which they appeared much surprised, and one said, 'there must surely be some one in the house who is not yet asleep.' they then hung the hand with its four burning fingers by the chimney, and went out to call their associates. but the maid followed them instantly and made the door fast, then ran up stairs, where the landlord slept, that she might wake him, but was unable, notwithstanding all her shaking and calling. in the mean time the thieves had returned and were endeavouring to enter the house by a window, but the maid cast them down from the ladder. they then took a different course, and would have forced an entrance, had it not occurred to the maid that the burning fingers might probably be the cause of her master's profound sleep. impressed with this idea she ran to the kitchen and blew them out, when the master and his men-servants instantly awoke, and soon drove away the robbers." the same event is said to have occurred at stainmore in england; and torquermada relates of mexican thieves that they carry with them the left hand of a woman who has died in her first childbed, before which talisman all bolts yield and all opposition is benumbed. in "some irish thieves attempted to commit a robbery on the estate of mr. naper, of loughcrew, county meath. they entered the house armed with a dead man's hand with a lighted candle in it, believing in the superstitious notion that a candle placed in a dead man's hand will not be seen by any but those by whom it is used; and also that if a candle in a dead hand be introduced into a house, it will prevent those who may be asleep from awaking. the inmates, however, were alarmed, and the robbers fled, leaving the hand behind them." [ ] in the middle ages the hand of glory was used, just like the divining-rod, for the detection of buried treasures. here, then, we have a large and motley group of objects--the forked rod of ash or hazel, the springwort and the luck-flower, leaves, worms, stones, rings, and dead men's hands--which are for the most part competent to open the way into cavernous rocks, and which all agree in pointing out hidden wealth. we find, moreover, that many of these charmed objects are carried about by birds, and that some of them possess, in addition to their generic properties, the specific power of benumbing people's senses. what, now, is the common origin of this whole group of superstitions? and since mythology has been shown to be the result of primeval attempts to explain the phenomena of nature, what natural phenomenon could ever have given rise to so many seemingly wanton conceptions? hopeless as the problem may at first sight seem, it has nevertheless been solved. in his great treatise on "the descent of fire," dr. kuhn has shown that all these legends and traditions are descended from primitive myths explanatory of the lightning and the storm-cloud. [ ] to us, who are nourished from childhood on the truths revealed by science, the sky is known to be merely an optical appearance due to the partial absorption of the solar rays in passing through a thick stratum of atmospheric air; the clouds are known to be large masses of watery vapour, which descend in rain-drops when sufficiently condensed; and the lightning is known to be a flash of light accompanying an electric discharge. but these conceptions are extremely recondite, and have been attained only through centuries of philosophizing and after careful observation and laborious experiment. to the untaught mind of a child or of an uncivilized man, it seems far more natural and plausible to regard the sky as a solid dome of blue crystal, the clouds as snowy mountains, or perhaps even as giants or angels, the lightning as a flashing dart or a fiery serpent. in point of fact, we find that the conceptions actually entertained are often far more grotesque than these. i can recollect once framing the hypothesis that the flaming clouds of sunset were transient apparitions, vouchsafed us by way of warning, of that burning calvinistic hell with which my childish imagination had been unwisely terrified; [ ] and i have known of a four-year-old boy who thought that the snowy clouds of noonday were the white robes of the angels hung out to dry in the sun. [ ] my little daughter is anxious to know whether it is necessary to take a balloon in order to get to the place where god lives, or whether the same end can be accomplished by going to the horizon and crawling up the sky; [ ] the mohammedan of old was working at the same problem when he called the rainbow the bridge es-sirat, over which souls must pass on their way to heaven. according to the ancient jew, the sky was a solid plate, hammered out by the gods, and spread over the earth in order to keep up the ocean overhead; [ ] but the plate was full of little windows, which were opened whenever it became necessary to let the rain come through. [ ] with equal plausibility the greek represented the rainy sky as a sieve in which the daughters of danaos were vainly trying to draw water; while to the hindu the rain-clouds were celestial cattle milked by the wind-god. in primitive aryan lore, the sky itself was a blue sea, and the clouds were ships sailing over it; and an english legend tells how one of these ships once caught its anchor on a gravestone in the churchyard, to the great astonishment of the people who were coming out of church. charon's ferry-boat was one of these vessels, and another was odin's golden ship, in which the souls of slain heroes were conveyed to valhalla. hence it was once the scandinavian practice to bury the dead in boats; and in altmark a penny is still placed in the mouth of the corpse, that it may have the means of paying its fare to the ghostly ferryman. [ ] in such a vessel drifted the lady of shalott on her fatal voyage; and of similar nature was the dusky barge, "dark as a funeral-scarf from stem to stern," in which arthur was received by the black-hooded queens. [ ] but the fact that a natural phenomenon was explained in one way did not hinder it from being explained in a dozen other ways. the fact that the sun was generally regarded as an all-conquering hero did not prevent its being called an egg, an apple, or a frog squatting on the waters, or ixion's wheel, or the eye of polyphemos, or the stone of sisyphos, which was no sooner pushed to the zenith than it rolled down to the horizon. so the sky was not only a crystal dome, or a celestial ocean, but it was also the aleian land through which bellerophon wandered, the country of the lotos-eaters, or again the realm of the graiai beyond the twilight; and finally it was personified and worshipped as dyaus or varuna, the vedic prototypes of the greek zeus and ouranos. the clouds, too, had many other representatives besides ships and cows. in a future paper it will be shown that they were sometimes regarded as angels or houris; at present it more nearly concerns us to know that they appear, throughout all aryan mythology, under the form of birds. it used to be a matter of hopeless wonder to me that aladdin's innocent request for a roc's egg to hang in the dome of his palace should have been regarded as a crime worthy of punishment by the loss of the wonderful lamp; the obscurest part of the whole affair being perhaps the jinni's passionate allusion to the egg as his master: "wretch! dost thou command me to bring thee my master, and hang him up in the midst of this vaulted dome?" but the incident is to some extent cleared of its mystery when we learn that the roc's egg is the bright sun, and that the roc itself is the rushing storm-cloud which, in the tale of sindbad, haunts the sparkling starry firmament, symbolized as a valley of diamonds. [ ] according to one arabic authority, the length of its wings is ten thousand fathoms. but in european tradition it dwindles from these huge dimensions to the size of an eagle, a raven, or a woodpecker. among the birds enumerated by kuhn and others as representing the storm-cloud are likewise the wren or "kinglet" (french roitelet); the owl, sacred to athene; the cuckoo, stork, and sparrow; and the red-breasted robin, whose name robert was originally an epithet of the lightning-god thor. in certain parts of france it is still believed that the robbing of a wren's nest will render the culprit liable to be struck by lightning. the same belief was formerly entertained in teutonic countries with respect to the robin; and i suppose that from this superstition is descended the prevalent notion, which i often encountered in childhood, that there is something peculiarly wicked in killing robins. now, as the raven or woodpecker, in the various myths of schamir, is the dark storm-cloud, so the rock-splitting worm or plant or pebble which the bird carries in its beak and lets fall to the ground is nothing more or less than the flash of lightning carried and dropped by the cloud. "if the cloud was supposed to be a great bird, the lightnings were regarded as writhing worms or serpents in its beak. these fiery serpents, elikiai gram-moeidws feromenoi, are believed in to this day by the canadian indians, who call the thunder their hissing." [ ] but these are not the only mythical conceptions which are to be found wrapped up in the various myths of schamir and the divining-rod. the persons who told these stories were not weaving ingenious allegories about thunder-storms; they were telling stories, or giving utterance to superstitions, of which the original meaning was forgotten. the old grannies who, along with a stoical indifference to the fate of quails and partridges, used to impress upon me the wickedness of killing robins, did not add that i should be struck by lightning if i failed to heed their admonitions. they had never heard that the robin was the bird of thor; they merely rehearsed the remnant of the superstition which had survived to their own times, while the essential part of it had long since faded from recollection. the reason for regarding a robin's life as more sacred than a partridge's had been forgotten; but it left behind, as was natural, a vague recognition of that mythical sanctity. the primitive meaning of a myth fades away as inevitably as the primitive meaning of a word or phrase; and the rabbins who told of a worm which shatters rocks no more thought of the writhing thunderbolts than the modern reader thinks of oyster-shells when he sees the word ostracism, or consciously breathes a prayer as he writes the phrase good bye. it is only in its callow infancy that the full force of a myth is felt, and its period of luxuriant development dates from the time when its physical significance is lost or obscured. it was because the greek had forgotten that zeus meant the bright sky, that he could make him king over an anthropomorphic olympos. the hindu dyaus, who carried his significance in his name as plainly as the greek helios, never attained such an exalted position; he yielded to deities of less obvious pedigree, such as brahma and vishnu. since, therefore, the myth-tellers recounted merely the wonderful stories which their own nurses and grandmas had told them, and had no intention of weaving subtle allegories or wrapping up a physical truth in mystic emblems, it follows that they were not bound to avoid incongruities or to preserve a philosophical symmetry in their narratives. in the great majority of complex myths, no such symmetry is to be found. a score of different mythical conceptions would get wrought into the same story, and the attempt to pull them apart and construct a single harmonious system of conceptions out of the pieces must often end in ingenious absurdity. if odysseus is unquestionably the sun, so is the eye of polyphemos, which odysseus puts out. [ ] but the greek poet knew nothing of the incongruity, for he was thinking only of a superhuman hero freeing himself from a giant cannibal; he knew nothing of sanskrit, or of comparative mythology, and the sources of his myths were as completely hidden from his view as the sources of the nile. we need not be surprised, then, to find that in one version of the schamir-myth the cloud is the bird which carries the worm, while in another version the cloud is the rock or mountain which the talisman cleaves open; nor need we wonder at it, if we find stories in which the two conceptions are mingled together without regard to an incongruity which in the mind of the myth-teller no longer exists. [ ] in early aryan mythology there is nothing by which the clouds are more frequently represented than by rocks or mountains. such were the symplegades, which, charmed by the harp of the wind-god orpheus, parted to make way for the talking ship argo, with its crew of solar heroes. [ ] such, too, were the mountains ossa and pelion, which the giants piled up one upon another in their impious assault upon zeus, the lord of the bright sky. as mr. baring-gould observes: "the ancient aryan had the same name for cloud and mountain. to him the piles of vapour on the horizon were so like alpine ranges, that he had but one word whereby to designate both. [ ] these great mountains of heaven were opened by the lightning. in the sudden flash he beheld the dazzling splendour within, but only for a moment, and then, with a crash, the celestial rocks closed again. believing these vaporous piles to contain resplendent treasures of which partial glimpse was obtained by mortals in a momentary gleam, tales were speedily formed, relating the adventures of some who had succeeded in entering these treasure-mountains." this sudden flash is the smiting of the cloud-rock by the arrow of ahmed, the resistless hammer of thor, the spear of odin, the trident of poseidon, or the rod of hermes. the forked streak of light is the archetype of the divining-rod in its oldest form,--that in which it not only indicates the hidden treasures, but, like the staff of the ilsenstein shepherd, bursts open the enchanted crypt and reveals them to the astonished wayfarer. hence the one thing essential to the divining-rod, from whatever tree it be chosen, is that it shall be forked. it is not difficult to comprehend the reasons which led the ancients to speak of the lightning as a worm, serpent, trident, arrow, or forked wand; but when we inquire why it was sometimes symbolized as a flower or leaf; or when we seek to ascertain why certain trees, such as the ash, hazel, white-thorn, and mistletoe, were supposed to be in a certain sense embodiments of it, we are entering upon a subject too complicated to be satisfactorily treated within the limits of the present paper. it has been said that the point of resemblance between a cow and a comet, that both have tails, was quite enough for the primitive word-maker: it was certainly enough for the primitive myth-teller. [ ] sometimes the pinnate shape of a leaf, the forking of a branch, the tri-cleft corolla, or even the red colour of a flower, seems to have been sufficient to determine the association of ideas. the hindu commentators of the veda certainly lay great stress on the fact that the palasa, one of their lightning-trees, is trident-leaved. the mistletoe branch is forked, like a wish-bone, [ ] and so is the stem which bears the forget-me-not or wild scorpion grass. so too the leaves of the hindu ficus religiosa resemble long spear-heads. [ ] but in many cases it is impossible for us to determine with confidence the reasons which may have guided primitive men in their choice of talismanic plants. in the case of some of these stories, it would no doubt be wasting ingenuity to attempt to assign a mythical origin for each point of detail. the ointment of the dervise, for instance, in the arabian tale, has probably no special mythical significance, but was rather suggested by the exigencies of the story, in an age when the old mythologies were so far disintegrated and mingled together that any one talisman would serve as well as another the purposes of the narrator. but the lightning-plants of indo-european folk-lore cannot be thus summarily disposed of; for however difficult it may be for us to perceive any connection between them and the celestial phenomena which they represent, the myths concerning them are so numerous and explicit as to render it certain that some such connection was imagined by the myth-makers. the superstition concerning the hand of glory is not so hard to interpret. in the mythology of the finns, the storm-cloud is a black man with a bright copper hand; and in hindustan, indra savitar, the deity who slays the demon of the cloud, is golden-handed. the selection of the hand of a man who has been hanged is probably due to the superstition which regarded the storm-god odin as peculiarly the lord of the gallows. the man who is raised upon the gallows is placed directly in the track of the wild huntsman, who comes with his hounds to carry off the victim; and hence the notion, which, according to mr. kelly, is "very common in germany and not extinct in england," that every suicide by hanging is followed by a storm. the paths of comparative mythology are devious, but we have now pursued them long enough i believe, to have arrived at a tolerably clear understanding of the original nature of the divining-rod. its power of revealing treasures has been sufficiently explained; and its affinity for water results so obviously from the character of the lightning-myth as to need no further comment. but its power of detecting criminals still remains to be accounted for. in greek mythology, the being which detects and punishes crime is the erinys, the prototype of the latin fury, figured by late writers as a horrible monster with serpent locks. but this is a degradation of the original conception. the name erinys did not originally mean fury, and it cannot be explained from greek sources alone. it appears in sanskrit as saranyu, a word which signifies the light of morning creeping over the sky. and thus we are led to the startling conclusion that, as the light of morning reveals the evil deeds done under the cover of night, so the lovely dawn, or erinys, came to be regarded under one aspect as the terrible detector and avenger of iniquity. yet startling as the conclusion is, it is based on established laws of phonetic change, and cannot be gainsaid. but what has the avenging daybreak to do with the lightning and the divining-rod? to the modern mind the association is not an obvious one: in antiquity it was otherwise. myths of the daybreak and myths of the lightning often resemble each other so closely that, except by a delicate philological analysis, it is difficult to distinguish the one from the other. the reason is obvious. in each case the phenomenon to be explained is the struggle between the day-god and one of the demons of darkness. there is essentially no distinction to the mind of the primitive man between the panis, who steal indra's bright cows and keep them in a dark cavern all night, and the throttling snake ahi or echidna, who imprisons the waters in the stronghold of the thunder-cloud and covers the earth with a short-lived darkness. and so the poisoned arrows of bellerophon, which slay the storm-dragon, differ in no essential respect from the shafts with which odysseus slaughters the night-demons who have for ten long hours beset his mansion. thus the divining-rod, representing as it does the weapon of the god of day, comes legitimately enough by its function of detecting and avenging crime. but the lightning not only reveals strange treasures and gives water to the thirsty land and makes plain what is doing under cover of darkness; it also sometimes kills, benumbs, or paralyzes. thus the head of the gorgon medusa turns into stone those who look upon it. thus the ointment of the dervise, in the tale of baba abdallah, not only reveals all the treasures of the earth, but instantly thereafter blinds the unhappy man who tests its powers. and thus the hand of glory, which bursts open bars and bolts, benumbs also those who happen to be near it. indeed, few of the favoured mortals who were allowed to visit the caverns opened by sesame or the luck-flower, escaped without disaster. the monkish tale of "the clerk and the image," in which the primeval mythical features are curiously distorted, well illustrates this point. in the city of rome there formerly stood an image with its right hand extended and on its forefinger the words "strike here." many wise men puzzled in vain over the meaning of the inscription; but at last a certain priest observed that whenever the sun shone on the figure, the shadow of the finger was discernible on the ground at a little distance from the statue. having marked the spot, he waited until midnight, and then began to dig. at last his spade struck upon something hard. it was a trap-door, below which a flight of marble steps descended into a spacious hall, where many men were sitting in solemn silence amid piles of gold and diamonds and long rows of enamelled vases. beyond this he found another room, a gynaecium filled with beautiful women reclining on richly embroidered sofas; yet here, too, all was profound silence. a superb banqueting-hall next met his astonished gaze; then a silent kitchen; then granaries loaded with forage; then a stable crowded with motionless horses. the whole place was brilliantly lighted by a carbuncle which was suspended in one corner of the reception-room; and opposite stood an archer, with his bow and arrow raised, in the act of taking aim at the jewel. as the priest passed back through this hall, he saw a diamond-hilted knife lying on a marble table; and wishing to carry away something wherewith to accredit his story, he reached out his hand to take it; but no sooner had he touched it than all was dark. the archer had shot with his arrow, the bright jewel was shivered into a thousand pieces, the staircase had fled, and the priest found himself buried alive. [ ] usually, however, though the lightning is wont to strike dead, with its basilisk glance, those who rashly enter its mysterious caverns, it is regarded rather as a benefactor than as a destroyer. the feelings with which the myth-making age contemplated the thunder-shower as it revived the earth paralyzed by a long drought, are shown in the myth of oidipous. the sphinx, whose name signifies "the one who binds," is the demon who sits on the cloud-rock and imprisons the rain, muttering, dark sayings which none but the all-knowing sun may understand. the flash of solar light which causes the monster to fling herself down from the cliff with a fearful roar, restores the land to prosperity. but besides this, the association of the thunder-storm with the approach of summer has produced many myths in which the lightning is symbolized as the life-renewing wand of the victorious sun-god. hence the use of the divining-rod in the cure of disease; and hence the large family of schamir-myths in which the dead are restored to life by leaves or herbs. in grimm's tale of the "three snake leaves," a prince is buried alive (like sindbad) with his dead wife, and seeing a snake approaching her body, he cuts it in three pieces. presently another snake, crawling from the corner, saw the other lying dead, and going, away soon returned with three green leaves in its mouth; then laying the parts of the body together so as to join, it put one leaf on each wound, and the dead snake was alive again. the prince, applying the leaves to his wife's body, restores her also to life." [ ] in the greek story, told by aelian and apollodoros, polyidos is shut up with the corpse of glaukos, which he is ordered to restore to life. he kills a dragon which is approaching the body, but is presently astonished at seeing another dragon come with a blade of grass and place it upon its dead companion, which instantly rises from the ground. polyidos takes the same blade of grass, and with it resuscitates glaukos. the same incident occurs in the hindu story of panch phul ranee, and in fouque's "sir elidoc," which is founded on a breton legend. we need not wonder, then, at the extraordinary therapeutic properties which are in all aryan folk-lore ascribed to the various lightning-plants. in sweden sanitary amulets are made of mistletoe-twigs, and the plant is supposed to be a specific against epilepsy and an antidote for poisons. in cornwall children are passed through holes in ash-trees in order to cure them of hernia. ash rods are used in some parts of england for the cure of diseased sheep, cows, and horses; and in particular they are supposed to neutralize the venom of serpents. the notion that snakes are afraid of an ash-tree is not extinct even in the united states. the other day i was told, not by an old granny, but by a man fairly educated and endowed with a very unusual amount of good common-sense, that a rattlesnake will sooner go through fire than creep over ash leaves or into the shadow of an ash-tree. exactly the same statement is made by piny, who adds that if you draw a circle with an ash rod around the spot of ground on which a snake is lying, the animal must die of starvation, being as effectually imprisoned as ugolino in the dungeon at pisa. in cornwall it is believed that a blow from an ash stick will instantly kill any serpent. the ash shares this virtue with the hazel and fern. a swedish peasant will tell you that snakes may be deprived of their venom by a touch with a hazel wand; and when an ancient greek had occasion to make his bed in the woods, he selected fern leaves if possible, in the belief that the smell of them would drive away poisonous animals. [ ] but the beneficent character of the lightning appears still more clearly in another class of myths. to the primitive man the shaft of light coming down from heaven was typical of the original descent of fire for the benefit and improvement of the human race. the sioux indians account for the origin of fire by a myth of unmistakable kinship; they say that "their first ancestor obtained his fire from the sparks which a friendly panther struck from the rocks as he scampered up a stony hill." [ ] this panther is obviously the counterpart of the aryan bird which drops schamir. but the aryan imagination hit upon a far more remarkable conception. the ancient hindus obtained fire by a process similar to that employed by count rumford in his experiments on the generation of heat by friction. they first wound a couple of cords around a pointed stick in such a way that the unwinding of the one would wind up the other, and then, placing the point of the stick against a circular disk of wood, twirled it rapidly by alternate pulls on the two strings. this instrument is called a chark, and is still used in south africa, [ ] in australia, in sumatra, and among the veddahs of ceylon. the russians found it in kamtchatka; and it was formerly employed in america, from labrador to the straits of magellan. [ ] the hindus churned milk by a similar process; [ ] and in order to explain the thunder-storm, a sanskrit poem tells how "once upon a time the devas, or gods, and their opponents, the asuras, made a truce, and joined together in churning the ocean to procure amrita, the drink of immortality. they took mount mandara for a churning-stick, and, wrapping the great serpent sesha round it for a rope, they made the mountain spin round to and fro, the devas pulling at the serpent's tail, and the asuras at its head." [ ] in this myth the churning-stick, with its flying serpent-cords, is the lightning, and the armrita, or drink of immortality, is simply the rain-water, which in aryan folk-lore possesses the same healing virtues as the lightning. "in sclavonic myths it is the water of life which restores the dead earth, a water brought by a bird from the depths of a gloomy cave." [ ] it is the celestial soma or mead which indra loves to drink; it is the ambrosial nectar of the olympian gods; it is the charmed water which in the arabian nights restores to human shape the victims of wicked sorcerers; and it is the elixir of life which mediaeval philosophers tried to discover, and in quest of which ponce de leon traversed the wilds of florida. [ ] "jacky's next proceeding was to get some dry sticks and wood, and prepare a fire, which, to george's astonishment, he lighted thus. he got a block of wood, in the middle of which he made a hole; then he cut and pointed a long stick, and inserting the point into the block, worked it round between his palms for some time and with increasing rapidity. presently there came a smell of burning wood, and soon after it burst into a flame at the point of contact. jacky cut slices of shark and roasted them."--reade, never too late to mend, chap. xxxviii. the most interesting point in this hindu myth is the name of the peaked mountain mandara, or manthara, which the gods and devils took for their churning-stick. the word means "a churning-stick," and it appears also, with a prefixed preposition, in the name of the fire-drill, pramantha. now kuhn has proved that this name, pramantha, is etymologically identical with prometheus, the name of the beneficent titan, who stole fire from heaven and bestowed it upon mankind as the richest of boons. this sublime personage was originally nothing but the celestial drill which churns fire out of the clouds; but the greeks had so entirely forgotten his origin that they interpreted his name as meaning "the one who thinks beforehand," and accredited him with a brother, epimetheus, or "the one who thinks too late." the greeks had adopted another name, trypanon, for their fire-drill, and thus the primitive character of prometheus became obscured. i have said above that it was regarded as absolutely essential that the divining-rod should be forked. to this rule, however, there was one exception, and if any further evidence be needed to convince the most sceptical that the divining-rod is nothing but a symbol of the lightning, that exception will furnish such evidence. for this exceptional kind of divining-rod was made of a pointed stick rotating in a block of wood, and it was the presence of hidden water or treasure which was supposed to excite the rotatory motion. in the myths relating to prometheus, the lightning-god appears as the originator of civilization, sometimes as the creator of the human race, and always as its friend, [ ] suffering in its behalf the most fearful tortures at the hands of the jealous zeus. in one story he creates man by making a clay image and infusing into it a spark of the fire which he had brought from heaven; in another story he is himself the first man. in the peloponnesian myth phoroneus, who is prometheus under another name, is the first man, and his mother was an ash-tree. in norse mythology, also, the gods were said to have made the first man out of the ash-tree yggdrasil. the association of the heavenly fire with the life-giving forces of nature is very common in the myths of both hemispheres, and in view of the facts already cited it need not surprise us. hence the hindu agni and the norse thor were patrons of marriage, and in norway, the most lucky day on which to be married is still supposed to be thursday, which in old times was the day of the fire-god. [ ] hence the lightning-plants have divers virtues in matters pertaining to marriage. the romans made their wedding torches of whitethorn; hazel-nuts are still used all over europe in divinations relating to the future lover or sweetheart; [ ] and under a mistletoe bough it is allowable for a gentleman to kiss a lady. a vast number of kindred superstitions are described by mr. kelly, to whom i am indebted for many of these examples. [ ] thus we reach at last the completed conception of the divining-rod, or as it is called in this sense the wish-rod, with its kindred talismans, from aladdin's lamp and the purse of bedreddin hassan, to the sangreal, the philosopher's stone, and the goblets of oberon and tristram. these symbols of the reproductive energies of nature, which give to the possessor every good and perfect gift, illustrate the uncurbed belief in the power of wish which the ancient man shared with modern children. in the norse story of frodi's quern, the myth assumes a whimsical shape. the prose edda tells of a primeval age of gold, when everybody had whatever he wanted. this was because the giant frodi had a mill which ground out peace and plenty and abundance of gold withal, so that it lay about the roads like pebbles. through the inexcusable avarice of frodi, this wonderful implement was lost to the world. for he kept his maid-servants working at the mill until they got out of patience, and began to make it grind out hatred and war. then came a mighty sea-rover by night and slew frodi and carried away the maids and the quern. when he got well out to sea, he told them to grind out salt, and so they did with a vengeance. they ground the ship full of salt and sank it, and so the quern was lost forever, but the sea remains salt unto this day. mr. kelly rightly identifies frodi with the sun-god fro or freyr, and observes that the magic mill is only another form of the fire-churn, or chark. according to another version the quern is still grinding away and keeping the sea salt, and over the place where it lies there is a prodigious whirlpool or maelstrom which sucks down ships. in its completed shape, the lightning-wand is the caduceus, or rod of hermes. i observed, in the preceding paper, that in the greek conception of hermes there have been fused together the attributes of two deities who were originally distinct. the hermes of the homeric hymn is a wind-god; but the later hermes agoraios, the patron of gymnasia, the mutilation of whose statues caused such terrible excitement in athens during the peloponnesian war, is a very different personage. he is a fire-god, invested with many solar attributes, and represents the quickening forces of nature. in this capacity the invention of fire was ascribed to him as well as to prometheus; he was said to be the friend of mankind, and was surnamed ploutodotes, or "the giver of wealth." the norse wind-god odin has in like manner acquired several of the attributes of freyr and thor. [ ] his lightning-spear, which is borrowed from thor, appears by a comical metamorphosis as a wish-rod which will administer a sound thrashing to the enemies of its possessor. having cut a hazel stick, you have only to lay down an old coat, name your intended victim, wish he was there, and whack away: he will howl with pain at every blow. this wonderful cudgel appears in dasent's tale of "the lad who went to the north wind," with which we may conclude this discussion. the story is told, with little variation, in hindustan, germany, and scandinavia. the north wind, representing the mischievous hermes, once blew away a poor woman's meal. so her boy went to the north wind and demanded his rights for the meal his mother had lost. "i have n't got your meal," said the wind, "but here's a tablecloth which will cover itself with an excellent dinner whenever you tell it to." so the lad took the cloth and started for home. at nightfall he stopped at an inn, spread his cloth on the table, and ordered it to cover itself with good things, and so it did. but the landlord, who thought it would be money in his pocket to have such a cloth, stole it after the boy had gone to bed, and substituted another just like it in appearance. next day the boy went home in great glee to show off for his mother's astonishment what the north wind had given him, but all the dinner he got that day was what the old woman cooked for him. in his despair he went back to the north wind and called him a liar, and again demanded his rights for the meal he had lost. "i have n't got your meal," said the wind, "but here's a ram which will drop money out of its fleece whenever you tell it to." so the lad travelled home, stopping over night at the same inn, and when he got home he found himself with a ram which did n't drop coins out of its fleece. a third time he visited the north wind, and obtained a bag with a stick in it which, at the word of command, would jump out of the bag and lay on until told to stop. guessing how matters stood as to his cloth and ram, he turned in at the same tavern, and going to a bench lay down as if to sleep. the landlord thought that a stick carried about in a bag must be worth something, and so he stole quietly up to the bag, meaning to get the stick out and change it. but just as he got within whacking distance, the boy gave the word, and out jumped the stick and beat the thief until he promised to give back the ram and the tablecloth. and so the boy got his rights for the meal which the north wind had blown away. october, . iii. werewolves and swan-maidens. it is related by ovid that lykaon, king of arkadia, once invited zeus to dinner, and served up for him a dish of human flesh, in order to test the god's omniscience. but the trick miserably failed, and the impious monarch received the punishment which his crime had merited. he was transformed into a wolf, that he might henceforth feed upon the viands with which he had dared to pollute the table of the king of olympos. from that time forth, according to pliny, a noble arkadian was each year, on the festival of zeus lykaios, led to the margin of a certain lake. hanging his clothes upon a tree, he then plunged into the water and became a wolf. for the space of nine years he roamed about the adjacent woods, and then, if he had not tasted human flesh during all this time, he was allowed to swim back to the place where his clothes were hanging, put them on, and return to his natural form. it is further related of a certain demainetos, that, having once been present at a human sacrifice to zeus lykaios, he ate of the flesh, and was transformed into a wolf for a term of ten years. [ ] these and other similar mythical germs were developed by the mediaeval imagination into the horrible superstition of werewolves. a werewolf, or loup-garou [ ] was a person who had the power of transforming himself into a wolf, being endowed, while in the lupine state, with the intelligence of a man, the ferocity of a wolf, and the irresistible strength of a demon. the ancients believed in the existence of such persons; but in the middle ages the metamorphosis was supposed to be a phenomenon of daily occurrence, and even at the present day, in secluded portions of europe, the superstition is still cherished by peasants. the belief, moreover, is supported by a vast amount of evidence, which can neither be argued nor pooh-poohed into insignificance. it is the business of the comparative mythologist to trace the pedigree of the ideas from which such a conception may have sprung; while to the critical historian belongs the task of ascertaining and classifying the actual facts which this particular conception was used to interpret. the mediaeval belief in werewolves is especially adapted to illustrate the complicated manner in which divers mythical conceptions and misunderstood natural occurrences will combine to generate a long-enduring superstition. mr. cox, indeed, would have us believe that the whole notion arose from an unintentional play upon words; but the careful survey of the field, which has been taken by hertz and baring-gould, leads to the conclusion that many other circumstances have been at work. the delusion, though doubtless purely mythical in its origin, nevertheless presents in its developed state a curious mixture of mythical and historical elements. with regard to the arkadian legend, taken by itself, mr. cox is probably right. the story seems to belong to that large class of myths which have been devised in order to explain the meaning of equivocal words whose true significance has been forgotten. the epithet lykaios, as applied to zeus, had originally no reference to wolves: it means "the bright one," and gave rise to lycanthropic legends only because of the similarity in sound between the names for "wolf" and "brightness." aryan mythology furnishes numerous other instances of this confusion. the solar deity, phoibos lykegenes, was originally the "offspring of light"; but popular etymology made a kind of werewolf of him by interpreting his name as the "wolf-born." the name of the hero autolykos means simply the "self-luminous"; but it was more frequently interpreted as meaning "a very wolf," in allusion to the supposed character of its possessor. bazra, the name of the citadel of carthage, was the punic word for "fortress"; but the greeks confounded it with byrsa, "a hide," and hence the story of the ox-hides cut into strips by dido in order to measure the area of the place to be fortified. the old theory that the irish were phoenicians had a similar origin. the name fena, used to designate the old scoti or irish, is the plural of fion, "fair," seen in the name of the hero fion gall, or "fingal"; but the monkish chroniclers identified fena with phoinix, whence arose the myth; and by a like misunderstanding of the epithet miledh, or "warrior," applied to fion by the gaelic bards, there was generated a mythical hero, milesius, and the soubriquet "milesian," colloquially employed in speaking of the irish. [ ] so the franks explained the name of the town daras, in mesopotamia, by the story that the emperor justinian once addressed the chief magistrate with the exclamation, daras, "thou shalt give": [ ] the greek chronicler, malalas, who spells the name doras, informs us with equal complacency that it was the place where alexander overcame codomannus with dorn, "the spear." a certain passage in the alps is called scaletta, from its resemblance to a staircase; but according to a local tradition it owes its name to the bleaching skeletons of a company of moors who were destroyed there in the eighth century, while attempting to penetrate into northern italy. the name of antwerp denotes the town built at a "wharf"; but it sounds very much like the flemish handt werpen, "hand-throwing": "hence arose the legend of the giant who cut of the hands of those who passed his castle without paying him black-mail, and threw them into the scheldt." [ ] in the myth of bishop hatto, related in a previous paper, the mause-thurm is a corruption of maut-thurm; it means "customs-tower," and has nothing to do with mice or rats. doubtless this etymology was the cause of the floating myth getting fastened to this particular place; that it did not give rise to the myth itself is shown by the existence of the same tale in other places. somewhere in england there is a place called chateau vert; the peasantry have corrupted it into shotover, and say that it has borne that name ever since little john shot over a high hill in the neighbourhood. [ ] latium means "the flat land"; but, according to virgil, it is the place where saturn once hid (latuisset) from the wrath of his usurping son jupiter. [ ] it was in this way that the constellation of the great bear received its name. the greek word arktos, answering to the sanskrit riksha, meant originally any bright object, and was applied to the bear--for what reason it would not be easy to state--and to that constellation which was most conspicuous in the latitude of the early home of the aryans. when the greeks had long forgotten why these stars were called arktoi, they symbolized them as a great bear fixed in the sky. so that, as max muller observes, "the name of the arctic regions rests on a misunderstanding of a name framed thousands of years ago in central asia, and the surprise with which many a thoughtful observer has looked at these seven bright stars, wondering why they were ever called the bear, is removed by a reference to the early annals of human speech." among the algonquins the sun-god michabo was represented as a hare, his name being compounded of michi, "great," and wabos, "a hare"; yet wabos also meant "white," so that the god was doubtless originally called simply "the great white one." the same naive process has made bears of the arkadians, whose name, like that of the lykians, merely signified that they were "children of light"; and the metamorphosis of kallisto, mother of arkas, into a bear, and of lykaon into a wolf, rests apparently upon no other foundation than an erroneous etymology. originally lykaon was neither man nor wolf; he was but another form of phoibos lykegenes, the light-born sun, and, as mr. cox has shown, his legend is but a variation of that of tantalos, who in time of drought offers to zeus the flesh of his own offspring, the withered fruits, and is punished for his impiety. it seems to me, however, that this explanation, though valid as far as it goes, is inadequate to explain all the features of the werewolf superstition, or to account for its presence in all aryan countries and among many peoples who are not of aryan origin. there can be no doubt that the myth-makers transformed lykaon into a wolf because of his unlucky name; because what really meant "bright man" seemed to them to mean "wolf-man"; but it has by no means been proved that a similar equivocation occurred in the case of all the primitive aryan werewolves, nor has it been shown to be probable that among each people the being with the uncanny name got thus accidentally confounded with the particular beast most dreaded by that people. etymology alone does not explain the fact that while gaul has been the favourite haunt of the man-wolf, scandinavia has been preferred by the man-bear, and hindustan by the man-tiger. to account for such a widespread phenomenon we must seek a more general cause. nothing is more strikingly characteristic of primitive thinking than the close community of nature which it assumes between man and brute. the doctrine of metempsychosis, which is found in some shape or other all over the world, implies a fundamental identity between the two; the hindu is taught to respect the flocks browsing in the meadow, and will on no account lift his hand against a cow, for who knows but it may he his own grandmother? the recent researches of mr. m`lennan and mr. herbert spencer have served to connect this feeling with the primeval worship of ancestors and with the savage customs of totemism. [ ] the worship of ancestors seems to have been every where the oldest systematized form of fetichistic religion. the reverence paid to the chieftain of the tribe while living was continued and exaggerated after his death the uncivilized man is everywhere incapable of grasping the idea of death as it is apprehended by civilized people. he cannot understand that a man should pass away so as to be no longer capable of communicating with his fellows. the image of his dead chief or comrade remains in his mind, and the savage's philosophic realism far surpasses that of the most extravagant mediaeval schoolmen; to him the persistence of the idea implies the persistence of the reality. the dead man, accordingly, is not really dead; he has thrown off his body like a husk, yet still retains his old appearance, and often shows himself to his old friends, especially after nightfall. he is no doubt possessed of more extensive powers than before his transformation, [ ] and may very likely have a share in regulating the weather, granting or withholding rain. therefore, argues the uncivilized mind, he is to be cajoled and propitiated more sedulously now than before his strange transformation. this kind of worship still maintains a languid existence as the state religion of china, and it still exists as a portion of brahmanism; but in the vedic religion it is to be seen in all its vigour and in all its naive simplicity. according to the ancient aryan, the pitris, or "fathers" (lat. patres), live in the sky along with yama, the great original pitri of mankind. this first man came down from heaven in the lightning, and back to heaven both himself and all his offspring must have gone. there they distribute light unto men below, and they shine themselves as stars; and hence the christianized german peasant, fifty centuries later, tells his children that the stars are angels' eyes, and the english cottager impresses it on the youthful mind that it is wicked to point at the stars, though why he cannot tell. but the pitris are not stars only, nor do they content themselves with idly looking down on the affairs of men, after the fashion of the laissez-faire divinities of lucretius. they are, on the contrary, very busy with the weather; they send rain, thunder, and lightning; and they especially delight in rushing over the housetops in a great gale of wind, led on by their chief, the mysterious huntsman, hermes or odin. it has been elsewhere shown that the howling dog, or wish-hound of hermes, whose appearance under the windows of a sick person is such an alarming portent, is merely the tempest personified. throughout all aryan mythology the souls of the dead are supposed to ride on the night-wind, with their howling dogs, gathering into their throng the souls of those just dying as they pass by their houses. [ ] sometimes the whole complex conception is wrapped up in the notion of a single dog, the messenger of the god of shades, who comes to summon the departing soul. sometimes, instead of a dog, we have a great ravening wolf who comes to devour its victim and extinguish the sunlight of life, as that old wolf of the tribe of fenrir devoured little red riding-hood with her robe of scarlet twilight. [ ] thus we arrive at a true werewolf myth. the storm-wind, or howling rakshasa of hindu folk-lore, is "a great misshapen giant with red beard and red hair, with pointed protruding teeth, ready to lacerate and devour human flesh; his body is covered with coarse, bristling hair, his huge mouth is open, he looks from side to side as he walks, lusting after the flesh and blood of men, to satisfy his raging hunger and quench his consuming thirst. towards nightfall his strength increases manifold; he can change his shape at will; he haunts the woods, and roams howling through the jungle." [ ] now if the storm-wind is a host of pitris, or one great pitri who appears as a fearful giant, and is also a pack of wolves or wish-hounds, or a single savage dog or wolf, the inference is obvious to the mythopoeic mind that men may become wolves, at least after death. and to the uncivilized thinker this inference is strengthened, as mr. spencer has shown, by evidence registered on his own tribal totem or heraldic emblem. the bears and lions and leopards of heraldry are the degenerate descendants of the totem of savagery which designated the tribe by a beast-symbol. to the untutored mind there is everything in a name; and the descendant of brown bear or yellow tiger or silver hyaena cannot be pronounced unfaithful to his own style of philosophizing, if he regards his ancestors, who career about his hut in the darkness of night, as belonging to whatever order of beasts his totem associations may suggest. thus we not only see a ray of light thrown on the subject of metempsychosis, but we get a glimpse of the curious process by which the intensely realistic mind of antiquity arrived at the notion that men could be transformed into beasts. for the belief that the soul can temporarily quit the body during lifetime has been universally entertained; and from the conception of wolf-like ghosts it was but a short step to the conception of corporeal werewolves. in the middle ages the phenomena of trance and catalepsy were cited in proof of the theory that the soul can leave the body and afterwards return to it. hence it was very difficult for a person accused of witchcraft to prove an alibi; for to any amount of evidence showing that the body was innocently reposing at home and in bed, the rejoinder was obvious that the soul may nevertheless have been in attendance at the witches' sabbath or busied in maiming a neighbour's cattle. according to one mediaeval notion, the soul of the werewolf quit its human body, which remained in a trance until its return. [ ] the mythological basis of the werewolf superstition is now, i believe, sufficiently indicated. the belief, however, did not reach its complete development, or acquire its most horrible features, until the pagan habits of thought which had originated it were modified by contact with christian theology. to the ancient there was nothing necessarily diabolical in the transformation of a man into a beast. but christianity, which retained such a host of pagan conceptions under such strange disguises, which degraded the "all-father" odin into the ogre of the castle to which jack climbed on his bean-stalk, and which blended the beneficent lightning-god thor and the mischievous hermes and the faun-like pan into the grotesque teutonic devil, did not fail to impart a new and fearful character to the belief in werewolves. lycanthropy became regarded as a species of witchcraft; the werewolf was supposed to have obtained his peculiar powers through the favour or connivance of the devil; and hundreds of persons were burned alive or broken on the wheel for having availed themselves of the privilege of beast-metamorphosis. the superstition, thus widely extended and greatly intensified, was confirmed by many singular phenomena which cannot be omitted from any thorough discussion of the nature and causes of lycanthropy. the first of these phenomena is the berserker insanity, characteristic of scandinavia, but not unknown in other countries. in times when killing one's enemies often formed a part of the necessary business of life, persons were frequently found who killed for the mere love of the thing; with whom slaughter was an end desirable in itself, not merely a means to a desirable end. what the miser is in an age which worships mammon, such was the berserker in an age when the current idea of heaven was that of a place where people could hack each other to pieces through all eternity, and when the man who refused a challenge was punished with confiscation of his estates. with these northmen, in the ninth century, the chief business and amusement in life was to set sail for some pleasant country, like spain or france, and make all the coasts and navigable rivers hideous with rapine and massacre. when at home, in the intervals between their freebooting expeditions, they were liable to become possessed by a strange homicidal madness, during which they would array themselves in the skins of wolves or bears, and sally forth by night to crack the backbones, smash the skulls, and sometimes to drink with fiendish glee the blood of unwary travellers or loiterers. these fits of madness were usually followed by periods of utter exhaustion and nervous depression. [ ] such, according to the unanimous testimony of historians, was the celebrated "berserker rage," not peculiar to the northland, although there most conspicuously manifested. taking now a step in advance, we find that in comparatively civilized countries there have been many cases of monstrous homicidal insanity. the two most celebrated cases, among those collected by mr. baring-gould, are those of the marechal de retz, in , and of elizabeth, a hungarian countess, in the seventeenth century. the countess elizabeth enticed young girls into her palace on divers pretexts, and then coolly murdered them, for the purpose of bathing in their blood. the spectacle of human suffering became at last such a delight to her, that she would apply with her own hands the most excruciating tortures, relishing the shrieks of her victims as the epicure relishes each sip of his old chateau margaux. in this way she is said to have murdered six hundred and fifty persons before her evil career was brought to an end; though, when one recollects the famous men in buckram and the notorious trio of crows, one is inclined to strike off a cipher, and regard sixty-five as a sufficiently imposing and far less improbable number. but the case of the marechal de retz is still more frightful. a marshal of france, a scholarly man, a patriot, and a man of holy life, he became suddenly possessed by an uncontrollable desire to murder children. during seven years he continued to inveigle little boys and girls into his castle, at the rate of about two each week, (?) and then put them to death in various ways, that he might witness their agonies and bathe in their blood; experiencing after each occasion the most dreadful remorse, but led on by an irresistible craving to repeat the crime. when this unparalleled iniquity was finally brought to light, the castle was found to contain bins full of children's bones. the horrible details of the trial are to be found in the histories of france by michelet and martin. going a step further, we find cases in which the propensity to murder has been accompanied by cannibalism. in a tailor of chalons was sentenced by the parliament of paris to be burned alive for lycanthropy. "this wretched man had decoyed children into his shop, or attacked them in the gloaming when they strayed in the woods, had torn them with his teeth and killed them, after which he seems calmly to have dressed their flesh as ordinary meat, and to have eaten it with a great relish. the number of little innocents whom he destroyed is unknown. a whole caskful of bones was discovered in his house." [ ] about a beggar in the village of polomyia, in galicia, was proved to have killed and eaten fourteen children. a house had one day caught fire and burnt to the ground, roasting one of the inmates, who was unable to escape. the beggar passed by soon after, and, as he was suffering from excessive hunger, could not resist the temptation of making a meal off the charred body. from that moment he was tormented by a craving for human flesh. he met a little orphan girl, about nine years old, and giving her a pinchbeck ring told her to seek for others like it under a tree in the neighbouring wood. she was slain, carried to the beggar's hovel, and eaten. in the course of three years thirteen other children mysteriously disappeared, but no one knew whom to suspect. at last an innkeeper missed a pair of ducks, and having no good opinion of this beggar's honesty, went unexpectedly to his cabin, burst suddenly in at the door, and to his horror found him in the act of hiding under his cloak a severed head; a bowl of fresh blood stood under the oven, and pieces of a thigh were cooking over the fire. [ ] this occurred only about twenty years ago, and the criminal, though ruled by an insane appetite, is not known to have been subject to any mental delusion. but there have been a great many similar cases, in which the homicidal or cannibal craving has been accompanied by genuine hallucination. forms of insanity in which the afflicted persons imagine themselves to be brute animals are not perhaps very common, but they are not unknown. i once knew a poor demented old man who believed himself to be a horse, and would stand by the hour together before a manger, nibbling hay, or deluding himself with the presence of so doing. many of the cannibals whose cases are related by mr. baring-gould, in his chapter of horrors, actually believed themselves to have been transformed into wolves or other wild animals. jean grenier was a boy of thirteen, partially idiotic, and of strongly marked canine physiognomy; his jaws were large and projected forward, and his canine teeth were unnaturally long, so as to protrude beyond the lower lip. he believed himself to be a werewolf. one evening, meeting half a dozen young girls, he scared them out of their wits by telling them that as soon as the sun had set he would turn into a wolf and eat them for supper. a few days later, one little girl, having gone out at nightfall to look after the sheep, was attacked by some creature which in her terror she mistook for a wolf, but which afterwards proved to be none other than jean grenier. she beat him off with her sheep-staff, and fled home. as several children had mysteriously disappeared from the neighbourhood, grenier was at once suspected. being brought before the parliament of bordeaux, he stated that two years ago he had met the devil one night in the woods and had signed a compact with him and received from him a wolf-skin. since then he had roamed about as a wolf after dark, resuming his human shape by daylight. he had killed and eaten several children whom he had found alone in the fields, and on one occasion he had entered a house while the family were out and taken the baby from its cradle. a careful investigation proved the truth of these statements, so far as the cannibalism was concerned. there is no doubt that the missing children were eaten by jean grenier, and there is no doubt that in his own mind the halfwitted boy was firmly convinced that he was a wolf. here the lycanthropy was complete. in the year , "in a wild and unfrequented spot near caude, some countrymen came one day upon the corpse of a boy of fifteen, horribly mutilated and bespattered with blood. as the men approached, two wolves, which had been rending the body, bounded away into the thicket. the men gave chase immediately, following their bloody tracks till they lost them; when, suddenly crouching among the bushes, his teeth chattering with fear, they found a man half naked, with long hair and beard, and with his hands dyed in blood. his nails were long as claws, and were clotted with fresh gore and shreds of human flesh." [ ] this man, jacques roulet, was a poor, half-witted creature under the dominion of a cannibal appetite. he was employed in tearing to pieces the corpse of the boy when these countrymen came up. whether there were any wolves in the case, except what the excited imaginations of the men may have conjured up, i will not presume to determine; but it is certain that roulet supposed himself to be a wolf, and killed and ate several persons under the influence of the delusion. he was sentenced to death, but the parliament of paris reversed the sentence, and charitably shut him up in a madhouse. the annals of the middle ages furnish many cases similar to these of grenier and roulet. their share in maintaining the werewolf superstition is undeniable; but modern science finds in them nothing that cannot be readily explained. that stupendous process of breeding, which we call civilization, has been for long ages strengthening those kindly social feelings by the possession of which we are chiefly distinguished from the brutes, leaving our primitive bestial impulses to die for want of exercise, or checking in every possible way their further expansion by legislative enactments. but this process, which is transforming us from savages into civilized men, is a very slow one; and now and then there occur cases of what physiologists call atavism, or reversion to an ancestral type of character. now and then persons are born, in civilized countries, whose intellectual powers are on a level with those of the most degraded australian savage, and these we call idiots. and now and then persons are born possessed of the bestial appetites and cravings of primitive man, his fiendish cruelty and his liking for human flesh. modern physiology knows how to classify and explain these abnormal cases, but to the unscientific mediaeval mind they were explicable only on the hypothesis of a diabolical metamorphosis. and there is nothing strange in the fact that, in an age when the prevailing habits of thought rendered the transformation of men into beasts an easily admissible notion, these monsters of cruelty and depraved appetite should have been regarded as capable of taking on bestial forms. nor is it strange that the hallucination under which these unfortunate wretches laboured should have taken such a shape as to account to their feeble intelligence for the existence of the appetites which they were conscious of not sharing with their neighbours and contemporaries. if a myth is a piece of unscientific philosophizing, it must sometimes be applied to the explanation of obscure psychological as well as of physical phenomena. where the modern calmly taps his forehead and says, "arrested development," the terrified ancient made the sign of the cross and cried, "werewolf." we shall be assisted in this explanation by turning aside for a moment to examine the wild superstitions about "changelings," which contributed, along with so many others, to make the lives of our ancestors anxious and miserable. these superstitions were for the most part attempts to explain the phenomena of insanity, epilepsy, and other obscure nervous diseases. a man who has hitherto enjoyed perfect health, and whose actions have been consistent and rational, suddenly loses all self-control and seems actuated by a will foreign to himself. modern science possesses the key to this phenomenon; but in former times it was explicable only on the hypothesis that a demon had entered the body of the lunatic, or else that the fairies had stolen the real man and substituted for him a diabolical phantom exactly like him in stature and features. hence the numerous legends of changelings, some of which are very curious. in irish folk-lore we find the story of one rickard, surnamed the rake, from his worthless character. a good-natured, idle fellow, he spent all his evenings in dancing,--an accomplishment in which no one in the village could rival him. one night, in the midst of a lively reel, he fell down in a fit. "he's struck with a fairy-dart," exclaimed all the friends, and they carried him home and nursed him; but his face grew so thin and his manner so morose that by and by all began to suspect that the true rickard was gone and a changeling put in his place. rickard, with all his accomplishments, was no musician; and so, in order to put the matter to a crucial test, a bagpipe was left in the room by the side of his bed. the trick succeeded. one hot summer's day, when all were supposed to be in the field making hay, some members of the family secreted in a clothes-press saw the bedroom door open a little way, and a lean, foxy face, with a pair of deep-sunken eyes, peer anxiously about the premises. having satisfied itself that the coast was clear, the face withdrew, the door was closed, and presently such ravishing strains of music were heard as never proceeded from a bagpipe before or since that day. soon was heard the rustle of innumerable fairies, come to dance to the changeling's music. then the "fairy-man" of the village, who was keeping watch with the family, heated a pair of tongs red-hot, and with deafening shouts all burst at once into the sick-chamber. the music had ceased and the room was empty, but in at the window glared a fiendish face, with such fearful looks of hatred, that for a moment all stood motionless with terror. but when the fairy-man, recovering himself, advanced with the hot tongs to pinch its nose, it vanished with an unearthly yell, and there on the bed was rickard, safe and sound, and cured of his epilepsy. [ ] comparing this legend with numerous others relating to changelings, and stripping off the fantastic garb of fairy-lore with which popular imagination has invested them, it seems impossible to doubt that they have arisen from myths devised for the purpose of explaining the obscure phenomena of mental disease. if this be so, they afford an excellent collateral illustration of the belief in werewolves. the same mental habits which led men to regard the insane or epileptic person as a changeling, and which allowed them to explain catalepsy as the temporary departure of a witch's soul from its body, would enable them to attribute a wolf's nature to the maniac or idiot with cannibal appetites. and when the myth-forming process had got thus far, it would not stop short of assigning to the unfortunate wretch a tangible lupine body; for all ancient mythology teemed with precedents for such a transformation. it remains for us to sum up,--to tie into a bunch the keys which have helped us to penetrate into the secret causes of the werewolf superstition. in a previous paper we saw what a host of myths, fairy-tales, and superstitious observances have sprung from attempts to interpret one simple natural phenomenon,--the descent of fire from the clouds. here, on the other hand, we see what a heterogeneous multitude of mythical elements may combine to build up in course of time a single enormous superstition, and we see how curiously fact and fancy have co-operated in keeping the superstition from falling. in the first place the worship of dead ancestors with wolf totems originated the notion of the transformation of men into divine or superhuman wolves; and this notion was confirmed by the ambiguous explanation of the storm-wind as the rushing of a troop of dead men's souls or as the howling of wolf-like monsters. mediaeval christianity retained these conceptions, merely changing the superhuman wolves into evil demons; and finally the occurrence of cases of berserker madness and cannibalism, accompanied by lycanthropic hallucinations, being interpreted as due to such demoniacal metamorphosis, gave rise to the werewolf superstition of the middle ages. the etymological proceedings, to which mr. cox would incontinently ascribe the origin of the entire superstition, seemed to me to have played a very subordinate part in the matter. to suppose that jean grenier imagined himself to be a wolf, because the greek word for wolf sounded like the word for light, and thus gave rise to the story of a light-deity who became a wolf, seems to me quite inadmissible. yet as far as such verbal equivocations may have prevailed, they doubtless helped to sustain the delusion. thus we need no longer regard our werewolf as an inexplicable creature of undetermined pedigree. but any account of him would be quite imperfect which should omit all consideration of the methods by which his change of form was accomplished. by the ancient romans the werewolf was commonly called a "skin-changer" or "turn-coat" (versipellis), and similar epithets were applied to him in the middle ages the mediaeval theory was that, while the werewolf kept his human form, his hair grew inwards; when he wished to become a wolf, he simply turned himself inside out. in many trials on record, the prisoners were closely interrogated as to how this inversion might be accomplished; but i am not aware that any one of them ever gave a satisfactory answer. at the moment of change their memories seem to have become temporarily befogged. now and then a poor wretch had his arms and legs cut off, or was partially flayed, in order that the ingrowing hair might be detected. [ ] another theory was, that the possessed person had merely to put on a wolf's skin, in order to assume instantly the lupine form and character; and in this may perhaps be seen a vague reminiscence of the alleged fact that berserkers were in the habit of haunting the woods by night, clothed in the hides of wolves or bears. [ ] such a wolfskin was kept by the boy grenier. roulet, on the other hand, confessed to using a magic salve or ointment. a fourth method of becoming a werewolf was to obtain a girdle, usually made of human skin. several cases are related in thorpe's "northern mythology." one hot day in harvest-time some reapers lay down to sleep in the shade; when one of them, who could not sleep, saw the man next him arise quietly and gird him with a strap, whereupon he instantly vanished, and a wolf jumped up from among the sleepers and ran off across the fields. another man, who possessed such a girdle, once went away from home without remembering to lock it up. his little son climbed up to the cupboard and got it, and as he proceeded to buckle it around his waist, he became instantly transformed into a strange-looking beast. just then his father came in, and seizing the girdle restored the child to his natural shape. the boy said that no sooner had he buckled it on than he was tormented with a raging hunger. sometimes the werewolf transformation led to unlucky accidents. at caseburg, as a man and his wife were making hay, the woman threw down her pitchfork and went away, telling her husband that if a wild beast should come to him during her absence he must throw his hat at it. presently a she-wolf rushed towards him. the man threw his hat at it, but a boy came up from another part of the field and stabbed the animal with his pitchfork, whereupon it vanished, and the woman's dead body lay at his feet. a parallel legend shows that this woman wished to have the hat thrown at her, in order that she might be henceforth free from her liability to become a werewolf. a man was one night returning with his wife from a merry-making when he felt the change coming on. giving his wife the reins, he jumped from the wagon, telling her to strike with her apron at any animal which might come to her. in a few moments a wolf ran up to the side of the vehicle, and, as the woman struck out with her apron, it bit off a piece and ran away. presently the man returned with the piece of apron in his mouth and consoled his terrified wife with the information that the enchantment had left him forever. a terrible case at a village in auvergne has found its way into the annals of witchcraft. "a gentleman while hunting was suddenly attacked by a savage wolf of monstrous size. impenetrable by his shot, the beast made a spring upon the helpless huntsman, who in the struggle luckily, or unluckily for the unfortunate lady, contrived to cut off one of its fore-paws. this trophy he placed in his pocket, and made the best of his way homewards in safety. on the road he met a friend, to whom he exhibited a bleeding paw, or rather (as it now appeared) a woman's hand, upon which was a wedding-ring. his wife's ring was at once recognized by the other. his suspicions aroused, he immediately went in search of his wife, who was found sitting by the fire in the kitchen, her arm hidden beneath her apron, when the husband, seizing her by the arm, found his terrible suspicions verified. the bleeding stump was there, evidently just fresh from the wound. she was given into custody, and in the event was burned at riom, in presence of thousands of spectators." [ ] sometimes a werewolf was cured merely by recognizing him while in his brute shape. a swedish legend tells of a cottager who, on entering the forest one day without recollecting to say his patter noster, got into the power of a troll, who changed him into a wolf. for many years his wife mourned him as dead. but one christmas eve the old troll, disguised as a beggarwoman, came to the house for alms; and being taken in and kindly treated, told the woman that her husband might very likely appear to her in wolf-shape. going at night to the pantry to lay aside a joint of meat for tomorrow's dinner, she saw a wolf standing with its paws on the window-sill, looking wistfully in at her. "ah, dearest," said she, "if i knew that thou wert really my husband, i would give thee a bone." whereupon the wolf-skin fell off, and her husband stood before her in the same old clothes which he had on the day that the troll got hold of him. in denmark it was believed that if a woman were to creep through a colt's placental membrane stretched between four sticks, she would for the rest of her life bring forth children without pain or illness; but all the boys would in such case be werewolves, and all the girls maras, or nightmares. in this grotesque superstition appears that curious kinship between the werewolf and the wife or maiden of supernatural race, which serves admirably to illustrate the nature of both conceptions, and the elucidation of which shall occupy us throughout the remainder of this paper. it is, perhaps, needless to state that in the personality of the nightmare, or mara, there was nothing equine. the mara was a female demon, [ ] who would come at night and torment men or women by crouching on their chests or stomachs and stopping their respiration. the scene is well enough represented in fuseli's picture, though the frenzied-looking horse which there accompanies the demon has no place in the original superstition. a netherlandish story illustrates the character of the mara. two young men were in love with the same damsel. one of them, being tormented every night by a mara, sought advice from his rival, and it was a treacherous counsel that he got. "hold a sharp knife with the point towards your breast, and you'll never see the mara again," said this false friend. the lad thanked him, but when he lay down to rest he thought it as well to be on the safe side, and so held the knife handle downward. so when the mara came, instead of forcing the blade into his breast, she cut herself badly, and fled howling; and let us hope, though the legend here leaves us in the dark, that this poor youth, who is said to have been the comelier of the two, revenged himself on his malicious rival by marrying the young lady. but the mara sometimes appeared in less revolting shape, and became the mistress or even the wife of some mortal man to whom she happened to take a fancy. in such cases she would vanish on being recognized. there is a well-told monkish tale of a pious knight who, journeying one day through the forest, found a beautiful lady stripped naked and tied to a tree, her back all covered with deep gashes streaming with blood, from a flogging which some bandits had given her. of course he took her home to his castle and married her, and for a while they lived very happily together, and the fame of the lady's beauty was so great that kings and emperors held tournaments in honor of her. but this pious knight used to go to mass every sunday, and greatly was he scandalized when he found that his wife would never stay to assist in the credo, but would always get up and walk out of church just as the choir struck up. all her husband's coaxing was of no use; threats and entreaties were alike powerless even to elicit an explanation of this strange conduct. at last the good man determined to use force; and so one sunday, as the lady got up to go out, according to custom, he seized her by the arm and sternly commanded her to remain. her whole frame was suddenly convulsed, and her dark eyes gleamed with weird, unearthly brilliancy. the services paused for a moment, and all eyes were turned toward the knight and his lady. "in god's name, tell me what thou art," shouted the knight; and instantly, says the chronicler, "the bodily form of the lady melted away, and was seen no more; whilst, with a cry of anguish and of terror, an evil spirit of monstrous form rose from the ground, clave the chapel roof asunder, and disappeared in the air." in a danish legend, the mara betrays her affinity to the nixies, or swan-maidens. a peasant discovered that his sweetheart was in the habit of coming to him by night as a mara. he kept strict watch until he discovered her creeping into the room through a small knot-hole in the door. next day he made a peg, and after she had come to him, drove in the peg so that she was unable to escape. they were married and lived together many years; but one night it happened that the man, joking with his wife about the way in which he had secured her, drew the peg from the knot-hole, that she might see how she had entered his room. as she peeped through, she became suddenly quite small, passed out, and was never seen again. the well-known pathological phenomena of nightmare are sufficient to account for the mediaeval theory of a fiend who sits upon one's bosom and hinders respiration; but as we compare these various legends relating to the mara, we see that a more recondite explanation is needed to account for all her peculiarities. indigestion may interfere with our breathing, but it does not make beautiful women crawl through keyholes, nor does it bring wives from the spirit-world. the mara belongs to an ancient family, and in passing from the regions of monkish superstition to those of pure mythology we find that, like her kinsman the werewolf, she had once seen better days. christianity made a demon of the mara, and adopted the theory that satan employed these seductive creatures as agents for ruining human souls. such is the character of the knight's wife, in the monkish legend just cited. but in the danish tale the mara appears as one of that large family of supernatural wives who are permitted to live with mortal men under certain conditions, but who are compelled to flee away when these conditions are broken, as is always sure to be the case. the eldest and one of the loveliest of this family is the hindu nymph urvasi, whose love adventures with pururavas are narrated in the puranas, and form the subject of the well-known and exquisite sanskrit drama by kalidasa. urvasi is allowed to live with pururavas so long as she does not see him undressed. but one night her kinsmen, the gandharvas, or cloud-demons, vexed at her long absence from heaven, resolved to get her away from her mortal companion, they stole a pet lamb which had been tied at the foot of her couch, whereat she bitterly upbraided her husband. in rage and mortification, pururavas sprang up without throwing on his tunic, and grasping his sword sought the robber. then the wicked gandharvas sent a flash of lightning, and urvasi, seeing her naked husband, instantly vanished. the different versions of this legend, which have been elaborately analyzed by comparative mythologists, leave no doubt that urvasi is one of the dawn-nymphs or bright fleecy clouds of early morning, which vanish as the splendour of the sun is unveiled. we saw, in the preceding paper, that the ancient aryans regarded the sky as a sea or great lake, and that the clouds were explained variously as phaiakian ships with bird-like beaks sailing over this lake, or as bright birds of divers shapes and hues. the light fleecy cirrhi were regarded as mermaids, or as swans, or as maidens with swan's plumage. in sanskrit they are called apsaras, or "those who move in the water," and the elves and maras of teutonic mythology have the same significance. urvasi appears in one legend as a bird; and a south german prescription for getting rid of the mara asserts that if she be wrapped up in the bedclothes and firmly held, a white dove will forthwith fly from the room, leaving the bedclothes empty. [ ] in the story of melusina the cloud-maiden appears as a kind of mermaid, but in other respects the legend resembles that of urvasi. raymond, count de la foret, of poitou, having by an accident killed his patron and benefactor during a hunting excursion, fled in terror and despair into the deep recesses of the forest. all the afternoon and evening he wandered through the thick dark woods, until at midnight he came upon a strange scene. all at once "the boughs of the trees became less interlaced, and the trunks fewer; next moment his horse, crashing through the shrubs, brought him out on a pleasant glade, white with rime, and illumined by the new moon; in the midst bubbled up a limpid fountain, and flowed away over a pebbly-floor with a soothing murmur. near the fountain-head sat three maidens in glimmering white dresses, with long waving golden hair, and faces of inexpressible beauty." [ ] one of them advanced to meet raymond, and according to all mythological precedent, they were betrothed before daybreak. in due time the fountain-nymph [ ] became countess de la foret, but her husband was given to understand that all her saturdays would be passed in strictest seclusion, upon which he must never dare to intrude, under penalty of losing her forever. for many years all went well, save that the fair melusina's children were, without exception, misshapen or disfigured. but after a while this strange weekly seclusion got bruited about all over the neighbourhood, and people shook their heads and looked grave about it. so many gossiping tales came to the count's ears, that he began to grow anxious and suspicious, and at last he determined to know the worst. he went one saturday to melusina's private apartments, and going through one empty room after another, at last came to a locked door which opened into a bath; looking through a keyhole, there he saw the countess transformed from the waist downwards into a fish, disporting herself like a mermaid in the water. of course he could not keep the secret, but when some time afterwards they quarrelled, must needs address her as "a vile serpent, contaminator of his honourable race." so she disappeared through the window, but ever afterward hovered about her husband's castle of lusignan, like a banshee, whenever one of its lords was about to die. the well-known story of undine is similar to that of melusina, save that the naiad's desire to obtain a human soul is a conception foreign to the spirit of the myth, and marks the degradation which christianity had inflicted upon the denizens of fairy-land. in one of dasent's tales the water-maiden is replaced by a kind of werewolf. a white bear marries a young girl, but assumes the human shape at night. she is never to look upon him in his human shape, but how could a young bride be expected to obey such an injunction as that? she lights a candle while he is sleeping, and discovers the handsomest prince in the world; unluckily she drops tallow on his shirt, and that tells the story. but she is more fortunate than poor raymond, for after a tiresome journey to the "land east of the sun and west of the moon," and an arduous washing-match with a parcel of ugly trolls, she washes out the spots, and ends her husband's enchantment. [ ] in the majority of these legends, however, the apsaras, or cloud-maiden, has a shirt of swan's feathers which plays the same part as the wolfskin cape or girdle of the werewolf. if you could get hold of a werewolf's sack and burn it, a permanent cure was effected. no danger of a relapse, unless the devil furnished him with a new wolfskin. so the swan-maiden kept her human form, as long as she was deprived of her tunic of feathers. indo-european folk-lore teems with stories of swan-maidens forcibly wooed and won by mortals who had stolen their clothes. a man travelling along the road passes by a lake where several lovely girls are bathing; their dresses, made of feathers curiously and daintily woven, lie on the shore. he approaches the place cautiously and steals one of these dresses. [ ] when the girls have finished their bathing, they all come and get their dresses and swim away as swans; but the one whose dress is stolen must needs stay on shore and marry the thief. it is needless to add that they live happily together for many years, or that finally the good man accidentally leaves the cupboard door unlocked, whereupon his wife gets back her swan-shirt and flies away from him, never to return. but it is not always a shirt of feathers. in one german story, a nobleman hunting deer finds a maiden bathing in a clear pool in the forest. he runs stealthily up to her and seizes her necklace, at which she loses the power to flee. they are married, and she bears seven sons at once, all of whom have gold chains about their necks, and are able to transform themselves into swans whenever they like. a flemish legend tells of three nixies, or water-sprites, who came out of the meuse one autumn evening, and helped the villagers celebrate the end of the vintage. such graceful dancers had never been seen in flanders, and they could sing as well as they could dance. as the night was warm, one of them took off her gloves and gave them to her partner to hold for her. when the clock struck twelve the other two started off in hot haste, and then there was a hue and cry for gloves. the lad would keep them as love-tokens, and so the poor nixie had to go home without them; but she must have died on the way, for next morning the waters of the meuse were blood-red, and those damsels never returned. in the faro islands it is believed that seals cast off their skins every ninth night, assume human forms, and sing and dance like men and women until daybreak, when they resume their skins and their seal natures. of course a man once found and hid one of these sealskins, and so got a mermaid for a wife; and of course she recovered the skin and escaped. [ ] on the coasts of ireland it is supposed to be quite an ordinary thing for young sea-fairies to get human husbands in this way; the brazen things even come to shore on purpose, and leave their red caps lying around for young men to pick up; but it behooves the husband to keep a strict watch over the red cap, if he would not see his children left motherless. this mermaid's cap has contributed its quota to the superstitions of witchcraft. an irish story tells how red james was aroused from sleep one night by noises in the kitchen. going down to the door, he saw a lot of old women drinking punch around the fireplace, and laughing and joking with his housekeeper. when the punchbowl was empty, they all put on red caps, and singing "by yarrow and rue, and my red cap too, hie me over to england," they flew up chimney. so jimmy burst into the room, and seized the housekeeper's cap, and went along with them. they flew across the sea to a castle in england, passed through the keyholes from room to room and into the cellar, where they had a famous carouse. unluckily jimmy, being unused to such good cheer, got drunk, and forgot to put on his cap when the others did. so next morning the lord's butler found him dead-drunk on the cellar floor, surrounded by empty casks. he was sentenced to be hung without any trial worth speaking of; but as he was carted to the gallows an old woman cried out, "ach, jimmy alanna! would you be afther dyin' in a strange land without your red birredh?" the lord made no objections, and so the red cap was brought and put on him. accordingly when jimmy had got to the gallows and was making his last speech for the edification of the spectators, he unexpectedly and somewhat irrelevantly exclaimed, "by yarrow and rue," etc., and was off like a rocket, shooting through the blue air en route for old ireland. [ ] in another irish legend an enchanted ass comes into the kitchen of a great house every night, and washes the dishes and scours the tins, so that the servants lead an easy life of it. after a while in their exuberant gratitude they offer him any present for which he may feel inclined to ask. he desires only "an ould coat, to keep the chill off of him these could nights"; but as soon as he gets into the coat he resumes his human form and bids them good by, and thenceforth they may wash their own dishes and scour their own tins, for all him. but we are diverging from the subject of swan-maidens, and are in danger of losing ourselves in that labyrinth of popular fancies which is more intricate than any that daidalos ever planned. the significance of all these sealskins and feather-dresses and mermaid caps and werewolf-girdles may best be sought in the etymology of words like the german leichnam, in which the body is described as a garment of flesh for the soul. [ ] in the naive philosophy of primitive thinkers, the soul, in passing from one visible shape to another, had only to put on the outward integument of the creature in which it wished to incarnate itself. with respect to the mode of metamorphosis, there is little difference between the werewolf and the swan-maiden; and the similarity is no less striking between the genesis of the two conceptions. the original werewolf is the night-wind, regarded now as a manlike deity and now as a howling lupine fiend; and the original swan-maiden is the light fleecy cloud, regarded either as a woman-like goddess or as a bird swimming in the sky sea. the one conception has been productive of little else but horrors; the other has given rise to a great variety of fanciful creations, from the treacherous mermaid and the fiendish nightmare to the gentle undine, the charming nausikaa, and the stately muse of classic antiquity. we have seen that the original werewolf, howling in the wintry blast, is a kind of psychopomp, or leader of departed souls; he is the wild ancestor of the death-dog, whose voice under the window of a sick-chamber is even now a sound of ill-omen. the swan-maiden has also been supposed to summon the dying to her home in the phaiakian land. the valkyries, with their shirts of swan-plumage, who hovered over scandinavian battle-fields to receive the souls of falling heroes, were identical with the hindu apsaras; and the houris of the mussulman belong to the same family. even for the angels,--women with large wings, who are seen in popular pictures bearing mortals on high towards heaven,--we can hardly claim a different kinship. melusina, when she leaves the castle of lusignan, becomes a banshee; and it has been a common superstition among sailors, that the appearance of a mermaid, with her comb and looking-glass, foretokens shipwreck, with the loss of all on board. october, . iv. light and darkness. when maitland blasphemously asserted that god was but "a bogie of the nursery," he unwittingly made a remark as suggestive in point of philology as it was crude and repulsive in its atheism. when examined with the lenses of linguistic science, the "bogie" or "bug-a-boo" or "bugbear" of nursery lore turns out to be identical, not only with the fairy "puck," whom shakespeare has immortalized, but also with the slavonic "bog" and the "baga" of the cuneiform inscriptions, both of which are names for the supreme being. if we proceed further, and inquire after the ancestral form of these epithets,--so strangely incongruous in their significations,--we shall find it in the old aryan "bhaga," which reappears unchanged in the sanskrit of the vedas, and has left a memento of itself in the surname of the phrygian zeus "bagaios." it seems originally to have denoted either the unclouded sun or the sky of noonday illumined by the solar rays. in sayana's commentary on the rig-veda, bhaga is enumerated among the seven (or eight) sons of aditi, the boundless orient; and he is elsewhere described as the lord of life, the giver of bread, and the bringer of happiness. [ ] thus the same name which, to the vedic poet, to the persian of the time of xerxes, and to the modern russian, suggests the supreme majesty of deity, is in english associated with an ugly and ludicrous fiend, closely akin to that grotesque northern devil of whom southey was unable to think without laughing. such is the irony of fate toward a deposed deity. the german name for idol--abgott, that is, "ex-god," or "dethroned god"--sums up in a single etymology the history of the havoc wrought by monotheism among the ancient symbols of deity. in the hospitable pantheon of the greeks and romans a niche was always in readiness for every new divinity who could produce respectable credentials; but the triumph of monotheism converted the stately mansion into a pandemonium peopled with fiends. to the monotheist an "ex-god" was simply a devilish deceiver of mankind whom the true god had succeeded in vanquishing; and thus the word demon, which to the ancient meant a divine or semi-divine being, came to be applied to fiends exclusively. thus the teutonic races, who preserved the name of their highest divinity, odin,--originally, guodan,--by which to designate the god of the christian, [ ] were unable to regard the bog of ancient tradition as anything but an "ex-god," or vanquished demon. the most striking illustration of this process is to be found in the word devil itself: to a reader unfamiliar with the endless tricks which language delights in playing, it may seem shocking to be told that the gypsies use the word devil as the name of god. [ ] this, however, is not because these people have made the archfiend an object of worship, but because the gypsy language, descending directly from the sanskrit, has retained in its primitive exalted sense a word which the english language has received only in its debased and perverted sense. the teutonic words devil, teufel, diuval, djofull, djevful, may all be traced back to the zend dev, [ ] a name in which is implicitly contained the record of the oldest monotheistic revolution known to history. the influence of the so-called zoroastrian reform upon the long-subsequent development of christianity will receive further notice in the course of this paper; for the present it is enough to know that it furnished for all christendom the name by which it designates the author of evil. to the parsee follower of zarathustra the name of the devil has very nearly the same signification as to the christian; yet, as grimm has shown, it is nothing else than a corruption of deva, the sanskrit name for god. when zarathustra overthrew the primeval aryan nature-worship in bactria, this name met the same evil fate which in early christian times overtook the word demon, and from a symbol of reverence became henceforth a symbol of detestation. [ ] but throughout the rest of the aryan world it achieved a nobler career, producing the greek theos, the lithuanian diewas, the latin deus, and hence the modern french dieu, all meaning god. if we trace back this remarkable word to its primitive source in that once lost but now partially recovered mother-tongue from which all our aryan languages are descended, we find a root div or dyu, meaning "to shine." from the first-mentioned form comes deva, with its numerous progeny of good and evil appellatives; from the latter is derived the name of dyaus, with its brethren, zeus and jupiter. in sanskrit dyu, as a noun, means "sky" and "day"; and there are many passages in the rig-veda where the character of the god dyaus, as the personification of the sky or the brightness of the ethereal heavens, is unmistakably apparent. this key unlocks for us one of the secrets of greek mythology. so long as there was for zeus no better etymology than that which assigned it to the root zen, "to live," [ ] there was little hope of understanding the nature of zeus. but when we learn that zeus is identical with dyaus, the bright sky, we are enabled to understand horace's expression, "sub jove frigido," and the prayer of the athenians, "rain, rain, dear zeus, on the land of the athenians, and on the fields." [ ] such expressions as these were retained by the greeks and romans long after they had forgotten that their supreme deity was once the sky. yet even the brahman, from whose mind the physical significance of the god's name never wholly disappeared, could speak of him as father dyaus, the great pitri, or ancestor of gods and men; and in this reverential name dyaus pitar may be seen the exact equivalent of the roman's jupiter, or jove the father. the same root can be followed into old german, where zio is the god of day; and into anglo-saxon, where tiwsdaeg, or the day of zeus, is the ancestral form of tuesday. thus we again reach the same results which were obtained from the examination of the name bhaga. these various names for the supreme aryan god, which without the help afforded by the vedas could never have been interpreted, are seen to have been originally applied to the sun-illumined firmament. countless other examples, when similarly analyzed, show that the earliest aryan conception of a divine power, nourishing man and sustaining the universe, was suggested by the light of the mighty sun; who, as modern science has shown, is the originator of all life and motion upon the globe, and whom the ancients delighted to believe the source, not only of "the golden light," [ ] but of everything that is bright, joy-giving, and pure. nevertheless, in accepting this conclusion as well established by linguistic science, we must be on our guard against an error into which writers on mythology are very liable to fall. neither sky nor sun nor light of day, neither zeus nor apollo, neither dyaus nor indra, was ever worshipped by the ancient aryan in anything like a monotheistic sense. to interpret zeus or jupiter as originally the supreme aryan god, and to regard classic paganism as one of the degraded remnants of a primeval monotheism, is to sin against the canons of a sound inductive philosophy. philology itself teaches us that this could not have been so. father dyaus was originally the bright sky and nothing more. although his name became generalized, in the classic languages, into deus, or god, it is quite certain that in early days, before the aryan separation, it had acquired no such exalted significance. it was only in greece and rome--or, we may say, among the still united italo-hellenic tribes--that jupiter-zeus attained a pre-eminence over all other deities. the people of iran quite rejected him, the teutons preferred thor and odin, and in india he was superseded, first by indra, afterwards by brahma and vishnu. we need not, therefore, look for a single supreme divinity among the old aryans; nor may we expect to find any sense, active or dormant, of monotheism in the primitive intelligence of uncivilized men. [ ] the whole fabric of comparative mythology, as at present constituted, and as described above, in the first of these papers, rests upon the postulate that the earliest religion was pure fetichism. in the unsystematic nature-worship of the old aryans the gods are presented to us only as vague powers, with their nature and attributes dimly defined, and their relations to each other fluctuating and often contradictory. there is no theogony, no regular subordination of one deity to another. the same pair of divinities appear now as father and daughter, now as brother and sister, now as husband and wife; and again they quite lose their personality, and are represented as mere natural phenomena. as muller observes, "the poets of the veda indulged freely in theogonic speculations without being frightened by any contradictions. they knew of indra as the greatest of gods, they knew of agni as the god of gods, they knew of varuna as the ruler of all; but they were by no means startled at the idea that their indra had a mother, or that their agni [latin ignis] was born like a babe from the friction of two fire-sticks, or that varuna and his brother mitra were nursed in the lap of aditi." [ ] thus we have seen bhaga, the daylight, represented as the offspring, of aditi, the boundless orient; but he had several brothers, and among them were mitra, the sun, varuna, the overarching firmament, and vivasvat, the vivifying sun. manifestly we have here but so many different names for what is at bottom one and the same conception. the common element which, in dyaus and varuna, in bhaga and indra, was made an object of worship, is the brightness, warmth, and life of day, as contrasted with the darkness, cold, and seeming death of the night-time. and this common element was personified in as many different ways as the unrestrained fancy of the ancient worshipper saw fit to devise. [ ] thus we begin to see why a few simple objects, like the sun, the sky, the dawn, and the night, should be represented in mythology by such a host of gods, goddesses, and heroes. for at one time the sun is represented as the conqueror of hydras and dragons who hide away from men the golden treasures of light and warmth, and at another time he is represented as a weary voyager traversing the sky-sea amid many perils, with the steadfast purpose of returning to his western home and his twilight bride; hence the different conceptions of herakles, bellerophon, and odysseus. now he is represented as the son of the dawn, and again, with equal propriety, as the son of the night, and the fickle lover of the dawn; hence we have, on the one hand, stories of a virgin mother who dies in giving birth to a hero, and, on the other hand, stories of a beautiful maiden who is forsaken and perhaps cruelly slain by her treacherous lover. indeed, the sun's adventures with so many dawn-maidens have given him quite a bad character, and the legends are numerous in which he appears as the prototype of don juan. yet again his separation from the bride of his youth is described as due to no fault of his own, but to a resistless decree of fate, which hurries him away as aineias was compelled to abandon dido. or, according to a third and equally plausible notion, he is a hero of ascetic virtues, and the dawn-maiden is a wicked enchantress, daughter of the sensual aphrodite, who vainly endeavours to seduce him. in the story of odysseus these various conceptions are blended together. when enticed by artful women, [ ] he yields for a while to the temptation; but by and by his longing to see penelope takes him homeward, albeit with a record which penelope might not altogether have liked. again, though the sun, "always roaming with a hungry heart," has seen many cities and customs of strange men, he is nevertheless confined to a single path,--a circumstance which seems to have occasioned much speculation in the primeval mind. garcilaso de la vega relates of a certain peruvian inca, who seems to have been an "infidel" with reference to the orthodox mythology of his day, that he thought the sun was not such a mighty god after all; for if he were, he would wander about the heavens at random instead of going forever, like a horse in a treadmill, along the same course. the american indians explained this circumstance by myths which told how the sun was once caught and tied with a chain which would only let him swing a little way to one side or the other. the ancient aryan developed the nobler myth of the labours of herakles, performed in obedience to the bidding of eurystheus. again, the sun must needs destroy its parents, the night and the dawn; and accordingly his parents, forewarned by prophecy, expose him in infancy, or order him to be put to death; but his tragic destiny never fails to be accomplished to the letter. and again the sun, who engages in quarrels not his own, is sometimes represented as retiring moodily from the sight of men, like achilleus and meleagros: he is short-lived and ill-fated, born to do much good and to be repaid with ingratitude; his life depends on the duration of a burning brand, and when that is extinguished he must die. the myth of the great theban hero, oidipous, well illustrates the multiplicity of conceptions which clustered about the daily career of the solar orb. his father, laios, had been warned by the delphic oracle that he was in danger of death from his own son. the newly born oidipous was therefore exposed on the hillside, but, like romulus and remus, and all infants similarly situated in legend, was duly rescued. he was taken to corinth, where he grew up to manhood. journeying once to thebes, he got into a quarrel with an old man whom he met on the road, and slew him, who was none other than his father, laios. reaching thebes, he found the city harassed by the sphinx, who afflicted the land with drought until she should receive an answer to her riddles. oidipous destroyed the monster by solving her dark sayings, and as a reward received the kingdom, with his own mother, iokaste, as his bride. then the erinyes hastened the discovery of these dark deeds; iokaste died in her bridal chamber; and oidipous, having blinded himself, fled to the grove of the eumenides, near athens, where, amid flashing lightning and peals of thunder, he died. oidipous is the sun. like all the solar heroes, from herakles and perseus to sigurd and william tell, he performs his marvellous deeds at the behest of others. his father, laios, is none other than the vedic dasyu, the night-demon who is sure to be destroyed by his solar offspring in the evening, oidipous is united to the dawn, the mother who had borne him at daybreak; and here the original story doubtless ended. in the vedic hymns we find indra, the sun, born of dahana (daphne), the dawn, whom he afterwards, in the evening twilight, marries. to the indian mind the story was here complete; but the greeks had forgotten and outgrown the primitive signification of the myth. to them oidipous and iokaste were human, or at least anthropomorphic beings; and a marriage between them was a fearful crime which called for bitter expiation. thus the latter part of the story arose in the effort to satisfy a moral feeling as the name of laios denotes the dark night, so, like iole, oinone, and iamos, the word iokaste signifies the delicate violet tints of the morning and evening clouds. oidipous was exposed, like paris upon ida (a vedic word meaning "the earth"), because the sunlight in the morning lies upon the hillside. [ ] he is borne on to the destruction of his father and the incestuous marriage with his mother by an irresistible moira, or fate; the sun cannot but slay the darkness and hasten to the couch of the violet twilight. [ ] the sphinx is the storm-demon who sits on the cloud-rock and imprisons the rain; she is the same as medusa, ahi, or echidna, and chimaira, and is akin to the throttling snakes of darkness which the jealous here sent to destroy herakles in his cradle. the idea was not derived from egypt, but the greeks, on finding egyptian figures resembling their conception of the sphinx, called them by the same name. the omniscient sun comprehends the sense of her dark mutterings, and destroys her, as indra slays vritra, bringing down rain upon the parched earth. the erinyes, who bring to light the crimes of oidipous, have been explained, in a previous paper, as the personification of daylight, which reveals the evil deeds done under the cover of night. the grove of the erinyes, like the garden of the hyperboreans, represents "the fairy network of clouds, which are the first to receive and the last to lose the light of the sun in the morning and in the evening; hence, although oidipous dies in a thunder-storm, yet the eumenides are kind to him, and his last hour is one of deep peace and tranquillity." [ ] to the last remains with him his daughter antigone, "she who is born opposite," the pale light which springs up opposite to the setting sun. these examples show that a story-root may be as prolific of heterogeneous offspring as a word-root. just as we find the root spak, "to look," begetting words so various as sceptic, bishop, speculate, conspicsuous, species, and spice, we must expect to find a simple representation of the diurnal course of the sun, like those lyrically given in the veda, branching off into stories as diversified as those of oidipous, herakles, odysseus, and siegfried. in fact, the types upon which stories are constructed are wonderfully few. some clever playwright--i believe it was scribe--has said that there are only seven possible dramatic situations; that is, all the plays in the world may be classed with some one of seven archetypal dramas. [ ] if this be true, the astonishing complexity of mythology taken in the concrete, as compared with its extreme simplicity when analyzed, need not surprise us. the extreme limits of divergence between stories descended from a common root are probably reached in the myths of light and darkness with which the present discussion is mainly concerned the subject will be best elucidated by taking a single one of these myths and following its various fortunes through different regions of the aryan world. the myth of hercules and cacus has been treated by m. breal in an essay which is one of the most valuable contributions ever made to the study of comparative mythology; and while following his footsteps our task will be an easy one. the battle between hercules and cacus, although one of the oldest of the traditions common to the whole indo-european race, appears in italy as a purely local legend, and is narrated as such by virgil, in the eighth book of the aeneid; by livy, at the beginning of his history; and by propertius and ovid. hercules, journeying through italy after his victory over geryon, stops to rest by the bank of the tiber. while he is taking his repose, the three-headed monster cacus, a son of vulcan and a formidable brigand, comes and steals his cattle, and drags them tail-foremost to a secret cavern in the rocks. but the lowing of the cows arouses hercules, and he runs toward the cavern where the robber, already frightened, has taken refuge. armed with a huge flinty rock, he breaks open the entrance of the cavern, and confronts the demon within, who vomits forth flames at him and roars like the thunder in the storm-cloud. after a short combat, his hideous body falls at the feet of the invincible hero, who erects on the spot an altar to jupiter inventor, in commemoration of the recovery of his cattle. ancient rome teemed with reminiscences of this event, which livy regarded as first in the long series of the exploits of his countrymen. the place where hercules pastured his oxen was known long after as the forum boarium; near it the porta trigemina preserved the recollection of the monster's triple head; and in the time of diodorus siculus sight-seers were shown the cavern of cacus on the slope of the aventine. every tenth day the earlier generations of romans celebrated the victory with solemn sacrifices at the ara maxima; and on days of triumph the fortunate general deposited there a tithe of his booty, to be distributed among the citizens. in this famous myth, however, the god hercules did not originally figure. the latin hercules was an essentially peaceful and domestic deity, watching over households and enclosures, and nearly akin to terminus and the penates. he does not appear to have been a solar divinity at all. but the purely accidental resemblance of his name to that of the greek deity herakles, [ ] and the manifest identity of the cacus-myth with the story of the victory of herakles over geryon, led to the substitution of hercules for the original hero of the legend, who was none other than jupiter, called by his sabine name sancus. now johannes lydus informs us that, in sabine, sancus signified "the sky," a meaning which we have already seen to belong to the name jupiter. the same substitution of the greek hero for the roman divinity led to the alteration of the name of the demon overcome by his thunderbolts. the corrupted title cacus was supposed to be identical with the greek word kakos, meaning "evil" and the corruption was suggested by the epithet of herakles, alexikakos, or "the averter of ill." originally, however, the name was caecius, "he who blinds or darkens," and it corresponds literally to the name of the greek demon kaikias, whom an old proverb, preserved by aulus gellius, describes as a stealer of the clouds. [ ] thus the significance of the myth becomes apparent. the three-headed cacus is seen to be a near kinsman of geryon's three-headed dog orthros, and of the three-headed kerberos, the hell-hound who guards the dark regions below the horizon. he is the original werewolf or rakshasa, the fiend of the storm who steals the bright cattle of helios, and hides them in the black cavernous rock, from which they are afterwards rescued by the schamir or lightning-stone of the solar hero. the physical character of the myth is apparent even in the description of virgil, which reads wonderfully like a vedic hymn in celebration of the exploits of indra. but when we turn to the veda itself, we find the correctness of the interpretation demonstrated again and again, with inexhaustible prodigality of evidence. here we encounter again the three-headed orthros under the identical title of vritra, "he who shrouds or envelops," called also cushna, "he who parches," pani, "the robber," and ahi, "the strangler." in many hymns of the rig-veda the story is told over and over, like a musical theme arranged with variations. indra, the god of light, is a herdsman who tends a herd of bright golden or violet-coloured cattle. vritra, a snake-like monster with three heads, steals them and hides them in a cavern, but indra slays him as jupiter slew caecius, and the cows are recovered. the language of the myth is so significant, that the hindu commentators of the veda have themselves given explanations of it similar to those proposed by modern philologists. to them the legend never became devoid of sense, as the myth of geryon appeared to greek scholars like apollodoros. [ ] these celestial cattle, with their resplendent coats of purple and gold, are the clouds lit up by the solar rays; but the demon who steals them is not always the fiend of the storm, acting in that capacity. they are stolen every night by vritra the concealer, and caecius the darkener, and indra is obliged to spend hours in looking for them, sending sarama, the inconstant twilight, to negotiate for their recovery. between the storm-myth and the myth of night and morning the resemblance is sometimes so close as to confuse the interpretation of the two. many legends which max muller explains as myths of the victory of day over night are explained by dr. kuhn as storm-myths; and the disagreement between two such powerful champions would be a standing reproach to what is rather prematurely called the science of comparative mythology, were it not easy to show that the difference is merely apparent and non-essential. it is the old story of the shield with two sides; and a comparison of the ideas fundamental to these myths will show that there is no valid ground for disagreement in the interpretation of them. the myths of schamir and the divining-rod, analyzed in a previous paper, explain the rending of the thunder-cloud and the procuring of water without especial reference to any struggle between opposing divinities. but in the myth of hercules and cacus, the fundamental idea is the victory of the solar god over the robber who steals the light. now whether the robber carries off the light in the evening when indra has gone to sleep, or boldly rears his black form against the sky during the daytime, causing darkness to spread over the earth, would make little difference to the framers of the myth. to a chicken a solar eclipse is the same thing as nightfall, and he goes to roost accordingly. why, then, should the primitive thinker have made a distinction between the darkening of the sky caused by black clouds and that caused by the rotation of the earth? he had no more conception of the scientific explanation of these phenomena than the chicken has of the scientific explanation of an eclipse. for him it was enough to know that the solar radiance was stolen, in the one case as in the other, and to suspect that the same demon was to blame for both robberies. the veda itself sustains this view. it is certain that the victory of indra over vritra is essentially the same as his victory over the panis. vritra, the storm-fiend, is himself called one of the panis; yet the latter are uniformly represented as night-demons. they steal indra's golden cattle and drive them by circuitous paths to a dark hiding-place near the eastern horizon. indra sends the dawn-nymph, sarama, to search for them, but as she comes within sight of the dark stable, the panis try to coax her to stay with them: "let us make thee our sister, do not go away again; we will give thee part of the cows, o darling." [ ] according to the text of this hymn, she scorns their solicitations, but elsewhere the fickle dawn-nymph is said to coquet with the powers of darkness. she does not care for their cows, but will take a drink of milk, if they will be so good as to get it for her. then she goes back and tells indra that she cannot find the cows. he kicks her with his foot, and she runs back to the panis, followed by the god, who smites them all with his unerring arrows and recovers the stolen light. from such a simple beginning as this has been deduced the greek myth of the faithlessness of helen. [ ] these night-demons, the panis, though not apparently regarded with any strong feeling of moral condemnation, are nevertheless hated and dreaded as the authors of calamity. they not only steal the daylight, but they parch the earth and wither the fruits, and they slay vegetation during the winter months. as caecius, the "darkener," became ultimately changed into cacus, the "evil one," so the name of vritra, the "concealer," the most famous of the panis, was gradually generalized until it came to mean "enemy," like the english word fiend, and began to be applied indiscriminately to any kind of evil spirit. in one place he is called adeva, the "enemy of the gods," an epithet exactly equivalent to the persian dev. in the zendavesta the myth of hercules and cacus has given rise to a vast system of theology. the fiendish panis are concentrated in ahriman or anro-mainyas, whose name signifies the "spirit of darkness," and who carries on a perpetual warfare against ormuzd or ahuramazda, who is described by his ordinary surname, spentomainyas, as the "spirit of light." the ancient polytheism here gives place to a refined dualism, not very different from what in many christian sects has passed current as monotheism. ahriman is the archfiend, who struggles with ormuzd, not for the possession of a herd of perishable cattle, but for the dominion of the universe. ormuzd creates the world pure and beautiful, but ahriman comes after him and creates everything that is evil in it. he not only keeps the earth covered with darkness during half of the day, and withholds the rain and destroys the crops, but he is the author of all evil thoughts and the instigator of all wicked actions. like his progenitor vritra and his offspring satan, he is represented under the form of a serpent; and the destruction which ultimately awaits these demons is also in reserve for him. eventually there is to be a day of reckoning, when ahriman will be bound in chains and rendered powerless, or when, according to another account, he will be converted to righteousness, as burns hoped and origen believed would be the case with satan. this dualism of the ancient persians has exerted a powerful influence upon the development of christian theology. the very idea of an archfiend satan, which christianity received from judaism, seems either to have been suggested by the persian ahriman, or at least to have derived its principal characteristics from that source. there is no evidence that the jews, previous to the babylonish captivity, possessed the conception of a devil as the author of all evil. in the earlier books of the old testament jehovah is represented as dispensing with his own hand the good and the evil, like the zeus of the iliad. [ ] the story of the serpent in eden--an aryan story in every particular, which has crept into the pentateuch--is not once alluded to in the old testament; and the notion of satan as the author of evil appears only in the later books, composed after the jews had come into close contact with persian ideas. [ ] in the book of job, as reville observes, satan is "still a member of the celestial court, being one of the sons of the elohim, but having as his special office the continual accusation of men, and having become so suspicious by his practice as public accuser, that he believes in the virtue of no one, and always presupposes interested motives for the purest manifestations of human piety." in this way the character of this angel became injured, and he became more and more an object of dread and dislike to men, until the later jews ascribed to him all the attributes of ahriman, and in this singularly altered shape he passed into christian theology. between the satan of the book of job and the mediaeval devil the metamorphosis is as great as that which degraded the stern erinys, who brings evil deeds to light, into the demon-like fury who torments wrong-doers in tartarus; and, making allowance for difference of circumstances, the process of degradation has been very nearly the same in the two cases. the mediaeval conception of the devil is a grotesque compound of elements derived from all the systems of pagan mythology which christianity superseded. he is primarily a rebellious angel, expelled from heaven along with his followers, like the giants who attempted to scale olympos, and like the impious efreets of arabian legend who revolted against the beneficent rule of solomon. as the serpent prince of the outer darkness, he retains the old characteristics of vritra, ahi, typhon, and echidna. as the black dog which appears behind the stove in dr. faust's study, he is the classic hell-hound kerberos, the vedic carvara. from the sylvan deity pan he gets his goat-like body, his horns and cloven hoofs. like the wind-god orpheus, to whose music the trees bent their heads to listen, he is an unrivalled player on the bagpipes. like those other wind-gods the psychopomp hermes and the wild huntsman odin, he is the prince of the powers of the air: his flight through the midnight sky, attended by his troop of witches mounted on their brooms, which sometimes break the boughs and sweep the leaves from the trees, is the same as the furious chase of the erlking odin or the burckar vittikab. he is dionysos, who causes red wine to flow from the dry wood, alike on the deck of the tyrrhenian pirate-ship and in auerbach's cellar at leipzig. he is wayland, the smith, a skilful worker in metals and a wonderful architect, like the classic fire-god hephaistos or vulcan; and, like hephaistos, he is lame from the effects of his fall from heaven. from the lightning-god thor he obtains his red beard, his pitchfork, and his power over thunderbolts; and, like that ancient deity, he is in the habit of beating his wife behind the door when the rain falls during sunshine. finally, he takes a hint from poseidon and from the swan-maidens, and appears as a water-imp or nixy (whence probably his name of old nick), and as the davy (deva) whose "locker" is situated at the bottom of the sea. [ ] according to the scotch divines of the seventeenth century, the devil is a learned scholar and profound thinker. having profited by six thousand years of intense study and meditation, he has all science, philosophy, and theology at his tongue's end; and, as his skill has increased with age, he is far more than a match for mortals in cunning. [ ] such, however, is not the view taken by mediaeval mythology, which usually represents his stupidity as equalling his malignity. the victory of hercules over cacus is repeated in a hundred mediaeval legends in which the devil is overreached and made a laughing-stock. the germ of this notion may be found in the blinding of polyphemos by odysseus, which is itself a victory of the sun-hero over the night-demon, and which curiously reappears in a middle-age story narrated by mr. cox. "the devil asks a man who is moulding buttons what he may be doing; and when the man answers that he is moulding eyes, asks him further whether he can give him a pair of new eyes. he is told to come again another day; and when he makes his appearance accordingly, the man tells him that the operation cannot be performed rightly unless he is first tightly bound with his back fastened to a bench. while he is thus pinioned he asks the man's name. the reply is issi (`himself'). when the lead is melted, the devil opens his eyes wide to receive the deadly stream. as soon as he is blinded, he starts up in agony, bearing away the bench to which he had been bound; and when some workpeople in the fields ask him who had thus treated him, his answer is, 'issi teggi' (`self did it'). with a laugh they bid him lie on the bed which he has made: 'selbst gethan, selbst habe.' the devil died of his new eyes, and was never seen again." in his attempts to obtain human souls the devil is frequently foiled by the superior cunning of mortals. once, he agreed to build a house for a peasant in exchange for the peasant's soul; but if the house were not finished before cockcrow, the contract was to be null and void. just as the devil was putting on the last tile the man imitated a cockcrow and waked up all the roosters in the neighbourhood, so that the fiend had his labour for his pains. a merchant of louvain once sold himself to the devil, who heaped upon him all manner of riches for seven years, and then came to get him. the merchant "took the devil in a friendly manner by the hand and, as it was just evening, said, 'wife, bring a light quickly for the gentleman.' 'that is not at all necessary,' said the devil; 'i am merely come to fetch you.' 'yes, yes, that i know very well,' said the merchant, 'only just grant me the time till this little candle-end is burnt out, as i have a few letters to sign and to put on my coat.' 'very well,' said the devil, 'but only till the candle is burnt out.' 'good,' said the merchant, and going into the next room, ordered the maid-servant to place a large cask full of water close to a very deep pit that was dug in the garden. the men-servants also carried, each of them, a cask to the spot; and when all was done, they were ordered each to take a shovel, and stand round the pit. the merchant then returned to the devil, who seeing that not more than about an inch of candle remained, said, laughing, 'now get yourself ready, it will soon be burnt out.' 'that i see, and am content; but i shall hold you to your word, and stay till it is burnt.' 'of course,' answered the devil; 'i stick to my word.' 'it is dark in the next room,' continued the merchant, 'but i must find the great book with clasps, so let me just take the light for one moment.' 'certainly,' said the devil, 'but i'll go with you.' he did so, and the merchant's trepidation was now on the increase. when in the next room he said on a sudden, 'ah, now i know, the key is in the garden door.' and with these words he ran out with the light into the garden, and before the devil could overtake him, threw it into the pit, and the men and the maids poured water upon it, and then filled up the hole with earth. now came the devil into the garden and asked, 'well, did you get the key? and how is it with the candle? where is it?' 'the candle?' said the merchant. 'yes, the candle.' 'ha, ha, ha! it is not yet burnt out,' answered the merchant, laughing, 'and will not be burnt out for the next fifty years; it lies there a hundred fathoms deep in the earth.' when the devil heard this he screamed awfully, and went off with a most intolerable stench." [ ] one day a fowler, who was a terrible bungler and could n't hit a bird at a dozen paces, sold his soul to the devil in order to become a freischutz. the fiend was to come for him in seven years, but must be always able to name the animal at which he was shooting, otherwise the compact was to be nullified. after that day the fowler never missed his aim, and never did a fowler command such wages. when the seven years were out the fowler told all these things to his wife, and the twain hit upon an expedient for cheating the devil. the woman stripped herself, daubed her whole body with molasses, and rolled herself up in a feather-bed, cut open for this purpose. then she hopped and skipped about the field where her husband stood parleying with old nick. "there's a shot for you, fire away," said the devil. "of course i'll fire, but do you first tell me what kind of a bird it is; else our agreement is cancelled, old boy." there was no help for it; the devil had to own himself nonplussed, and off he fled, with a whiff of brimstone which nearly suffocated the freischutz and his good woman. [ ] in the legend of gambrinus, the fiend is still more ingloriously defeated. gambrinus was a fiddler, who, being jilted by his sweetheart, went out into the woods to hang himself. as he was sitting on the bough, with the cord about his neck, preparatory to taking the fatal plunge, suddenly a tall man in a green coat appeared before him, and offered his services. he might become as wealthy as he liked, and make his sweetheart burst with vexation at her own folly, but in thirty years he must give up his soul to beelzebub. the bargain was struck, for gambrinus thought thirty years a long time to enjoy one's self in, and perhaps the devil might get him in any event; as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. aided by satan, he invented chiming-bells and lager-beer, for both of which achievements his name is held in grateful remembrance by the teuton. no sooner had the holy roman emperor quaffed a gallon or two of the new beverage than he made gambrinus duke of brabant and count of flanders, and then it was the fiddler's turn to laugh at the discomfiture of his old sweetheart. gambrinus kept clear of women, says the legend, and so lived in peace. for thirty years he sat beneath his belfry with the chimes, meditatively drinking beer with his nobles and burghers around him. then beelzebub sent jocko, one of his imps, with orders to bring back gambrinus before midnight. but jocko was, like swiveller's marchioness, ignorant of the taste of beer, never having drunk of it even in a sip, and the flemish schoppen were too much for him. he fell into a drunken sleep, and did not wake up until noon next day, at which he was so mortified that he had not the face to go back to hell at all. so gambrinus lived on tranquilly for a century or two, and drank so much beer that he turned into a beer-barrel. [ ] the character of gullibility attributed to the devil in these legends is probably derived from the trolls, or "night-folk," of northern mythology. in most respects the trolls resemble the teutonic elves and fairies, and the jinn or efreets of the arabian nights; but their pedigree is less honourable. the fairies, or "white ladies," were not originally spirits of darkness, but were nearly akin to the swan-maidens, dawn-nymphs, and dryads, and though their wrath was to be dreaded, they were not malignant by nature. christianity, having no place for such beings, degraded them into something like imps; the most charitable theory being that they were angels who had remained neutral during satan's rebellion, in punishment for which michael expelled them from heaven, but has left their ultimate fate unannounced until the day of judgment. the jinn appear to have been similarly degraded on the rise of mohammedanism. but the trolls were always imps of darkness. they are descended from the jotuns, or frost-giants of northern paganism, and they correspond to the panis, or night-demons of the veda. in many norse tales they are said to burst when they see the risen sun. [ ] they eat human flesh, are ignorant of the simplest arts, and live in the deepest recesses of the forest or in caverns on the hillside, where the sunlight never penetrates. some of these characteristics may very likely have been suggested by reminiscences of the primeval lapps, from whom the aryan invaders wrested the dominion of europe. [ ] in some legends the trolls are represented as an ancient race of beings now superseded by the human race. "'what sort of an earth-worm is this?' said one giant to another, when they met a man as they walked. 'these are the earth-worms that will one day eat us up, brother,' answered the other; and soon both giants left that part of germany." "'see what pretty playthings, mother!' cries the giant's daughter, as she unties her apron, and shows her a plough, and horses, and a peasant. 'back with them this instant,' cries the mother in wrath, 'and put them down as carefully as you can, for these playthings can do our race great harm, and when these come we must budge.'" very naturally the primitive teuton, possessing already the conception of night-demons, would apply it to these men of the woods whom even to this day his uneducated descendants believe to be sorcerers, able to turn men into wolves. but whatever contributions historical fact may have added to his character, the troll is originally a creation of mythology, like polyphemos, whom he resembles in his uncouth person, his cannibal appetite, and his lack of wit. his ready gullibility is shown in the story of "boots who ate a match with the troll." boots, the brother of cinderella, and the counterpart alike of jack the giant-killer, and of odysseus, is the youngest of three brothers who go into a forest to cut wood. the troll appears and threatens to kill any one who dares to meddle with his timber. the elder brothers flee, but boots puts on a bold face. he pulled a cheese out of his scrip and squeezed it till the whey began to spurt out. "hold your tongue, you dirty troll," said he, "or i'll squeeze you as i squeeze this stone." so the troll grew timid and begged to be spared, [ ] and boots let him off on condition that he would hew all day with him. they worked till nightfall, and the troll's giant strength accomplished wonders. then boots went home with the troll, having arranged that he should get the water while his host made the fire. when they reached the hut there were two enormous iron pails, so heavy that none but a troll could lift them, but boots was not to be frightened. "bah!" said he. "do you suppose i am going to get water in those paltry hand-basins? hold on till i go and get the spring itself!" "o dear!" said the troll, "i'd rather not; do you make the fire, and i'll get the water." then when the soup was made, boots challenged his new friend to an eating-match; and tying his scrip in front of him, proceeded to pour soup into it by the ladleful. by and by the giant threw down his spoon in despair, and owned himself conquered. "no, no! don't give it up yet," said boots, "just cut a hole in your stomach like this, and you can eat forever." and suiting the action to the words, he ripped open his scrip. so the silly troll cut himself open and died, and boots carried off all his gold and silver. once there was a troll whose name was wind-and-weather, and saint olaf hired him to build a church. if the church were completed within a certain specified time, the troll was to get possession of saint olaf. the saint then planned such a stupendous edifice that he thought the giant would be forever building it; but the work went on briskly, and at the appointed day nothing remained but to finish the point of the spire. in his consternation olaf rushed about until he passed by the troll's den, when he heard the giantess telling her children that their father, wind-and-weather, was finishing his church, and would be home to-morrow with saint olaf. so the saint ran back to the church and bawled out, "hold on, wind-and-weather, your spire is crooked!" then the giant tumbled down from the roof and broke into a thousand pieces. as in the cases of the mara and the werewolf, the enchantment was at an end as soon as the enchanter was called by name. these trolls, like the arabian efreets, had an ugly habit of carrying off beautiful princesses. this is strictly in keeping with their character as night-demons, or panis. in the stories of punchkin and the heartless giant, the night-demon carries off the dawn-maiden after having turned into stone her solar brethren. but boots, or indra, in search of his kinsfolk, by and by arrives at the troll's castle, and then the dawn-nymph, true to her fickle character, cajoles the giant and enables boots to destroy him. in the famous myth which serves as the basis for the volsunga saga and the nibelungenlied, the dragon fafnir steals the valkyrie brynhild and keeps her shut up in a castle on the glistening heath, until some champion shall be found powerful enough to rescue her. the castle is as hard to enter as that of the sleeping beauty; but sigurd, the northern achilleus, riding on his deathless horse, and wielding his resistless sword gram, forces his way in, slays fafnir, and recovers the valkyrie. in the preceding paper the valkyries were shown to belong to the class of cloud-maidens; and between the tale of sigurd and that of hercules and cacus there is no difference, save that the bright sunlit clouds which are represented in the one as cows are in the other represented as maidens. in the myth of the argonauts they reappear as the golden fleece, carried to the far east by phrixos and helle, who are themselves niblungs, or "children of the mist" (nephele), and there guarded by a dragon. in all these myths a treasure is stolen by a fiend of darkness, and recovered by a hero of light, who slays the demon. and--remembering what scribe said about the fewness of dramatic types--i believe we are warranted in asserting that all the stories of lovely women held in bondage by monsters, and rescued by heroes who perform wonderful tasks, such as don quixote burned to achieve, are derived ultimately from solar myths, like the myth of sigurd and brynhild. i do not mean to say that the story-tellers who beguiled their time in stringing together the incidents which make up these legends were conscious of their solar character. they did not go to work, with malice prepense, to weave allegories and apologues. the greeks who first told the story of perseus and andromeda, the arabians who devised the tale of codadad and his brethren, the flemings who listened over their beer-mugs to the adventures of culotte-verte, were not thinking of sun-gods or dawn-maidens, or night-demons; and no theory of mythology can be sound which implies such an extravagance. most of these stories have lived on the lips of the common people; and illiterate persons are not in the habit of allegorizing in the style of mediaeval monks or rabbinical commentators. but what has been amply demonstrated is, that the sun and the clouds, the light and the darkness, were once supposed to be actuated by wills analogous to the human will; that they were personified and worshipped or propitiated by sacrifice; and that their doings were described in language which applied so well to the deeds of human or quasi-human beings that in course of time its primitive purport faded from recollection. no competent scholar now doubts that the myths of the veda and the edda originated in this way, for philology itself shows that the names employed in them are the names of the great phenomena of nature. and when once a few striking stories had thus arisen,--when once it had been told how indra smote the panis, and how sigurd rescued brynhild, and how odysseus blinded the kyklops,--then certain mythic or dramatic types had been called into existence; and to these types, preserved in the popular imagination, future stories would inevitably conform. we need, therefore, have no hesitation in admitting a common origin for the vanquished panis and the outwitted troll or devil; we may securely compare the legends of st. george and jack the giant-killer with the myth of indra slaying vritra; we may see in the invincible sigurd the prototype of many a doughty knight-errant of romance; and we may learn anew the lesson, taught with fresh emphasis by modern scholarship, that in the deepest sense there is nothing new under the sun. i am the more explicit on this point, because it seems to me that the unguarded language of many students of mythology is liable to give rise to misapprehensions, and to discredit both the method which they employ and the results which they have obtained. if we were to give full weight to the statements which are sometimes made, we should perforce believe that primitive men had nothing to do but to ponder about the sun and the clouds, and to worry themselves over the disappearance of daylight. but there is nothing in the scientific interpretation of myths which obliges us to go any such length. i do not suppose that any ancient aryan, possessed of good digestive powers and endowed with sound common-sense, ever lay awake half the night wondering whether the sun would come back again. [ ] the child and the savage believe of necessity that the future will resemble the past, and it is only philosophy which raises doubts on the subject. [ ] the predominance of solar legends in most systems of mythology is not due to the lack of "that titanic assurance with which we say, the sun must rise"; [ ] nor again to the fact that the phenomena of day and night are the most striking phenomena in nature. eclipses and earthquakes and floods are phenomena of the most terrible and astounding kind, and they have all generated myths; yet their contributions to folk-lore are scanty compared with those furnished by the strife between the day-god and his enemies. the sun-myths have been so prolific because the dramatic types to which they have given rise are of surpassing human interest. the dragon who swallows the sun is no doubt a fearful personage; but the hero who toils for others, who slays hydra-headed monsters, and dries the tears of fair-haired damsels, and achieves success in spite of incredible obstacles, is a being with whom we can all sympathize, and of whom we never weary of hearing. with many of these legends which present the myth of light and darkness in its most attractive form, the reader is already acquainted, and it is needless to retail stories which have been told over and over again in books which every one is presumed to have read. i will content myself with a weird irish legend, narrated by mr. patrick kennedy, [ ] in which we here and there catch glimpses of the primitive mythical symbols, as fragments of gold are seen gleaming through the crystal of quartz. long before the danes ever came to ireland, there died at muskerry a sculloge, or country farmer, who by dint of hard work and close economy had amassed enormous wealth. his only son did not resemble him. when the young sculloge looked about the house, the day after his father's death, and saw the big chests full of gold and silver, and the cupboards shining with piles of sovereigns, and the old stockings stuffed with large and small coin, he said to himself, "bedad, how shall i ever be able to spend the likes o' that!" and so he drank, and gambled, and wasted his time in hunting and horse-racing, until after a while he found the chests empty and the cupboards poverty-stricken, and the stockings lean and penniless. then he mortgaged his farm-house and gambled away all the money he got for it, and then he bethought him that a few hundred pounds might be raised on his mill. but when he went to look at it, he found "the dam broken, and scarcely a thimbleful of water in the mill-race, and the wheel rotten, and the thatch of the house all gone, and the upper millstone lying flat on the lower one, and a coat of dust and mould over everything." so he made up his mind to borrow a horse and take one more hunt to-morrow and then reform his habits. as he was returning late in the evening from this farewell hunt, passing through a lonely glen he came upon an old man playing backgammon, betting on his left hand against his right, and crying and cursing because the right would win. "come and bet with me," said he to sculloge. "faith, i have but a sixpence in the world," was the reply; "but, if you like, i'll wager that on the right." "done," said the old man, who was a druid; "if you win i'll give you a hundred guineas." so the game was played, and the old man, whose right hand was always the winner, paid over the guineas and told sculloge to go to the devil with them. instead of following this bit of advice, however, the young farmer went home and began to pay his debts, and next week he went to the glen and won another game, and made the druid rebuild his mill. so sculloge became prosperous again, and by and by he tried his luck a third time, and won a game played for a beautiful wife. the druid sent her to his house the next morning before he was out of bed, and his servants came knocking at the door and crying, "wake up! wake up! master sculloge, there's a young lady here to see you." "bedad, it's the vanithee [ ] herself," said sculloge; and getting up in a hurry, he spent three quarters of an hour in dressing himself. at last he went down stairs, and there on the sofa was the prettiest lady ever seen in ireland! naturally, sculloge's heart beat fast and his voice trembled, as he begged the lady's pardon for this druidic style of wooing, and besought her not to feel obliged to stay with him unless she really liked him. but the young lady, who was a king's daughter from a far country, was wondrously charmed with the handsome farmer, and so well did they get along that the priest was sent for without further delay, and they were married before sundown. sabina was the vanithee's name; and she warned her husband to have no more dealings with lassa buaicht, the old man of the glen. so for a while all went happily, and the druidic bride was as good as she was beautiful but by and by sculloge began to think he was not earning money fast enough. he could not bear to see his wife's white hands soiled with work, and thought it would be a fine thing if he could only afford to keep a few more servants, and drive about with sabina in an elegant carriage, and see her clothed in silk and adorned with jewels. "i will play one more game and set the stakes high," said sculloge to himself one evening, as he sat pondering over these things; and so, without consulting sabina, he stole away to the glen, and played a game for ten thousand guineas. but the evil druid was now ready to pounce on his prey, and he did not play as of old. sculloge broke into a cold sweat with agony and terror as he saw the left hand win! then the face of lassa buaicht grew dark and stern, and he laid on sculloge the curse which is laid upon the solar hero in misfortune, that he should never sleep twice under the same roof, or ascend the couch of the dawn-nymph, his wife, until he should have procured and brought to him the sword of light. when sculloge reached home, more dead than alive, he saw that his wife knew all. bitterly they wept together, but she told him that with courage all might be set right. she gave him a druidic horse, which bore him swiftly over land and sea, like the enchanted steed of the arabian nights, until he reached the castle of his wife's father who, as sculloge now learned, was a good druid, the brother of the evil lassa buaicht. this good druid told him that the sword of light was kept by a third brother, the powerful magician, fiach o'duda, who dwelt in an enchanted castle, which many brave heroes had tried to enter, but the dark sorcerer had slain them all. three high walls surrounded the castle, and many had scaled the first of these, but none had ever returned alive. but sculloge was not to be daunted, and, taking from his father-in-law a black steed, he set out for the fortress of fiach o'duda. over the first high wall nimbly leaped the magic horse, and sculloge called aloud on the druid to come out and surrender his sword. then came out a tall, dark man, with coal-black eyes and hair and melancholy visage, and made a furious sweep at sculloge with the flaming blade. but the druidic beast sprang back over the wall in the twinkling of an eye and rescued his rider, leaving, however, his tail behind in the court-yard. then sculloge returned in triumph to his father-in-law's palace, and the night was spent in feasting and revelry. next day sculloge rode out on a white horse, and when he got to fiach's castle, he saw the first wall lying in rubbish. he leaped the second, and the same scene occurred as the day before, save that the horse escaped unharmed. the third day sculloge went out on foot, with a harp like that of orpheus in his hand, and as he swept its strings the grass bent to listen and the trees bowed their heads. the castle walls all lay in ruins, and sculloge made his way unhindered to the upper room, where fiach lay in druidic slumber, lulled by the harp. he seized the sword of light, which was hung by the chimney sheathed in a dark scabbard, and making the best of his way back to the good king's palace, mounted his wife's steed, and scoured over land and sea until he found himself in the gloomy glen where lassa buaicht was still crying and cursing and betting on his left hand against his right. "here, treacherous fiend, take your sword of light!" shouted sculloge in tones of thunder; and as he drew it from its sheath the whole valley was lighted up as with the morning sun, and next moment the head of the wretched druid was lying at his feet, and his sweet wife, who had come to meet him, was laughing and crying in his arms. november, . v. myths of the barbaric world. the theory of mythology set forth in the four preceding papers, and illustrated by the examination of numerous myths relating to the lightning, the storm-wind, the clouds, and the sunlight, was originally framed with reference solely to the mythic and legendary lore of the aryan world. the phonetic identity of the names of many western gods and heroes with the names of those vedic divinities which are obviously the personifications of natural phenomena, suggested the theory which philosophical considerations had already foreshadowed in the works of hume and comte, and which the exhaustive analysis of greek, hindu, keltic, and teutonic legends has amply confirmed. let us now, before proceeding to the consideration of barbaric folk-lore, briefly recapitulate the results obtained by modern scholarship working strictly within the limits of the aryan domain. in the first place, it has been proved once for all that the languages spoken by the hindus, persians, greeks, romans, kelts, slaves, and teutons are all descended from a single ancestral language, the old aryan, in the same sense that french, italian, and spanish are descended from the latin. and from this undisputed fact it is an inevitable inference that these various races contain, along with other elements, a race-element in common, due to their aryan pedigree. that the indo-european races are wholly aryan is very improbable, for in every case the countries overrun by them were occupied by inferior races, whose blood must have mingled in varying degrees with that of their conquerors; but that every indo-european people is in great part descended from a common aryan stock is not open to question. in the second place, along with a common fund of moral and religious ideas and of legal and ceremonial observances, we find these kindred peoples possessed of a common fund of myths, superstitions, proverbs, popular poetry, and household legends. the hindu mother amuses her child with fairy-tales which often correspond, even in minor incidents, with stories in scottish or scandinavian nurseries; and she tells them in words which are phonetically akin to words in swedish and gaelic. no doubt many of these stories might have been devised in a dozen different places independently of each other; and no doubt many of them have been transmitted laterally from one people to another; but a careful examination shows that such cannot have been the case with the great majority of legends and beliefs. the agreement between two such stories, for instance, as those of faithful john and rama and luxman is so close as to make it incredible that they should have been independently fabricated, while the points of difference are so important as to make it extremely improbable that the one was ever copied from the other. besides which, the essential identity of such myths as those of sigurd and theseus, or of helena and sarama, carries us back historically to a time when the scattered indo-european tribes had not yet begun to hold commercial and intellectual intercourse with each other, and consequently could not have interchanged their epic materials or their household stories. we are therefore driven to the conclusion--which, startling as it may seem, is after all the most natural and plausible one that can be stated--that the aryan nations, which have inherited from a common ancestral stock their languages and their customs, have inherited also from the same common original their fireside legends. they have preserved cinderella and punchkin just as they have preserved the words for father and mother, ten and twenty; and the former case, though more imposing to the imagination, is scientifically no less intelligible than the latter. thirdly, it has been shown that these venerable tales may be grouped in a few pretty well defined classes; and that the archetypal myth of each class--the primitive story in conformity to which countless subsequent tales have been generated--was originally a mere description of physical phenomena, couched in the poetic diction of an age when everything was personified, because all natural phenomena were supposed to be due to the direct workings of a volition like that of which men were conscious within themselves. thus we are led to the striking conclusion that mythology has had a common root, both with science and with religious philosophy. the myth of indra conquering vritra was one of the theorems of primitive aryan science; it was a provisional explanation of the thunder-storm, satisfactory enough until extended observation and reflection supplied a better one. it also contained the germs of a theology; for the life-giving solar light furnished an important part of the primeval conception of deity. and finally, it became the fruitful parent of countless myths, whether embodied in the stately epics of homer and the bards of the nibelungenlied, or in the humbler legends of st. george and william tell and the ubiquitous boots. such is the theory which was suggested half a century ago by the researches of jacob grimm, and which, so far as concerns the mythology of the aryan race, is now victorious along the whole line. it remains for us to test the universality of the general principles upon which it is founded, by a brief analysis of sundry legends and superstitions of the barbaric world. since the fetichistic habit of explaining the outward phenomena of nature after the analogy of the inward phenomena of conscious intelligence is not a habit peculiar to our aryan ancestors, but is, as psychology shows, the inevitable result of the conditions under which uncivilized thinking proceeds, we may expect to find the barbaric mind personifying the powers of nature and making myths about their operations the whole world over. and we need not be surprised if we find in the resulting mythologic structures a strong resemblance to the familiar creations of the aryan intelligence. in point of fact, we shall often be called upon to note such resemblance; and it accordingly behooves us at the outset to inquire how far a similarity between mythical tales shall be taken as evidence of a common traditional origin, and how far it may be interpreted as due merely to the similar workings of the untrained intelligence in all ages and countries. analogies drawn from the comparison of languages will here be of service to us, if used discreetly; otherwise they are likely to bewilder far more than to enlighten us. a theorem which max muller has laid down for our guidance in this kind of investigation furnishes us with an excellent example of the tricks which a superficial analogy may play even with the trained scholar, when temporarily off his guard. actuated by a praiseworthy desire to raise the study of myths to something like the high level of scientific accuracy already attained by the study of words, max muller endeavours to introduce one of the most useful canons of philology into a department of inquiry where its introduction could only work the most hopeless confusion. one of the earliest lessons to be learned by the scientific student of linguistics is the uselessness of comparing together directly the words contained in derivative languages. for example, you might set the english twelve side by side with the latin duodecim, and then stare at the two words to all eternity without any hope of reaching a conclusion, good or bad, about either of them: least of all would you suspect that they are descended from the same radical. but if you take each word by itself and trace it back to its primitive shape, explaining every change of every letter as you go, you will at last reach the old aryan dvadakan, which is the parent of both these strangely metamorphosed words. [ ] nor will it do, on the other hand, to trust to verbal similarity without a historical inquiry into the origin of such similarity. even in the same language two words of quite different origin may get their corners rubbed off till they look as like one another as two pebbles. the french words souris, a "mouse," and souris, a "smile," are spelled exactly alike; but the one comes from latin sorex and the other from latin subridere. now max muller tells us that this principle, which is indispensable in the study of words, is equally indispensable in the study of myths. [ ] that is, you must not rashly pronounce the norse story of the heartless giant identical with the hindu story of punchkin, although the two correspond in every essential incident. in both legends a magician turns several members of the same family into stone; the youngest member of the family comes to the rescue, and on the way saves the lives of sundry grateful beasts; arrived at the magician's castle, he finds a captive princess ready to accept his love and to play the part of delilah to the enchanter. in both stories the enchanter's life depends on the integrity of something which is elaborately hidden in a far-distant island, but which the fortunate youth, instructed by the artful princess and assisted by his menagerie of grateful beasts, succeeds in obtaining. in both stories the youth uses his advantage to free all his friends from their enchantment, and then proceeds to destroy the villain who wrought all this wickedness. yet, in spite of this agreement, max muller, if i understand him aright, would not have us infer the identity of the two stories until we have taken each one separately and ascertained its primitive mythical significance. otherwise, for aught we can tell, the resemblance may be purely accidental, like that of the french words for "mouse" and "smile." a little reflection, however, will relieve us from this perplexity, and assure us that the alleged analogy between the comparison of words and the comparison of stories is utterly superficial. the transformations of words--which are often astounding enough--depend upon a few well-established physiological principles of utterance; and since philology has learned to rely upon these principles, it has become nearly as sure in its methods and results as one of the so-called "exact sciences." folly enough is doubtless committed within its precincts by writers who venture there without the laborious preparation which this science, more than almost any other, demands. but the proceedings of the trained philologist are no more arbitrary than those of the trained astronomer. and though the former may seem to be straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel when he coolly tells you that violin and fiddle are the same word, while english care and latin cura have nothing to do with each other, he is nevertheless no more indulging in guess-work than the astronomer who confesses his ignorance as to the habitability of venus while asserting his knowledge of the existence of hydrogen in the atmosphere of sirius. to cite one example out of a hundred, every philologist knows that s may become r, and that the broad a-sound may dwindle into the closer o-sound; but when you adduce some plausible etymology based on the assumption that r has changed into s, or o into a, apart from the demonstrable influence of some adjacent letter, the philologist will shake his head. now in the study of stories there are no such simple rules all cut and dried for us to go by. there is no uniform psychological principle which determines that the three-headed snake in one story shall become a three-headed man in the next. there is no grimm's law in mythology which decides that a hindu magician shall always correspond to a norwegian troll or a keltic druid. the laws of association of ideas are not so simple in application as the laws of utterance. in short, the study of myths, though it can be made sufficiently scientific in its methods and results, does not constitute a science by itself, like philology. it stands on a footing similar to that occupied by physical geography, or what the germans call "earth-knowledge." no one denies that all the changes going on over the earth's surface conform to physical laws; but then no one pretends that there is any single proximate principle which governs all the phenomena of rain-fall, of soil-crumbling, of magnetic variation, and of the distribution of plants and animals. all these things are explained by principles obtained from the various sciences of physics, chemistry, geology, and physiology. and in just the same way the development and distribution of stories is explained by the help of divers resources contributed by philology, psychology, and history. there is therefore no real analogy between the cases cited by max muller. two unrelated words may be ground into exactly the same shape, just as a pebble from the north sea may be undistinguishable from another pebble on the beach of the adriatic; but two stories like those of punchkin and the heartless giant are no more likely to arise independently of each other than two coral reefs on opposite sides of the globe are likely to develop into exactly similar islands. shall we then say boldly, that close similarity between legends is proof of kinship, and go our way without further misgivings? unfortunately we cannot dispose of the matter in quite so summary a fashion; for it remains to decide what kind and degree of similarity shall be considered satisfactory evidence of kinship. and it is just here that doctors may disagree. here is the point at which our "science" betrays its weakness as compared with the sister study of philology. before we can decide with confidence in any case, a great mass of evidence must be brought into court. so long as we remained on aryan ground, all went smoothly enough, because all the external evidence was in our favour. we knew at the outset, that the aryans inherit a common language and a common civilization, and therefore we found no difficulty in accepting the conclusion that they have inherited, among other things, a common stock of legends. in the barbaric world it is quite otherwise. philology does not pronounce in favour of a common origin for all barbaric culture, such as it is. the notion of a single primitive language, standing in the same relation to all existing dialects as the relation of old aryan to latin and english, or that of old semitic to hebrew and arabic, was a notion suited only to the infancy of linguistic science. as the case now stands, it is certain that all the languages actually existing cannot be referred to a common ancestor, and it is altogether probable that there never was any such common ancestor. i am not now referring to the question of the unity of the human race. that question lies entirely outside the sphere of philology. the science of language has nothing to do with skulls or complexions, and no comparison of words can tell us whether the black men are brethren of the white men, or whether yellow and red men have a common pedigree: these questions belong to comparative physiology. but the science of language can and does tell us that a certain amount of civilization is requisite for the production of a language sufficiently durable and wide-spread to give birth to numerous mutually resembling offspring barbaric languages are neither widespread nor durable. among savages each little group of families has its own dialect, and coins its own expressions at pleasure; and in the course of two or three generations a dialect gets so strangely altered as virtually to lose its identity. even numerals and personal pronouns, which the aryan has preserved for fifty centuries, get lost every few years in polynesia. since the time of captain cook the tahitian language has thrown away five out of its ten simple numerals, and replaced them by brand-new ones; and on the amazon you may acquire a fluent command of some indian dialect, and then, coming back after twenty years, find yourself worse off than rip van winkle, and your learning all antiquated and useless. how absurd, therefore, to suppose that primeval savages originated a language which has held its own like the old aryan and become the prolific mother of the three or four thousand dialects now in existence! before a durable language can arise, there must be an aggregation of numerous tribes into a people, so that there may be need of communication on a large scale, and so that tradition may be strengthened. wherever mankind have associated in nations, permanent languages have arisen, and their derivative dialects bear the conspicuous marks of kinship; but where mankind have remained in their primitive savage isolation, their languages have remained sporadic and transitory, incapable of organic development, and showing no traces of a kinship which never existed. the bearing of these considerations upon the origin and diffusion of barbaric myths is obvious. the development of a common stock of legends is, of course, impossible, save where there is a common language; and thus philology pronounces against the kinship of barbaric myths with each other and with similar myths of the aryan and semitic worlds. similar stories told in greece and norway are likely to have a common pedigree, because the persons who have preserved them in recollection speak a common language and have inherited the same civilization. but similar stories told in labrador and south africa are not likely to be genealogically related, because it is altogether probable that the esquimaux and the zulu had acquired their present race characteristics before either of them possessed a language or a culture sufficient for the production of myths. according to the nature and extent of the similarity, it must be decided whether such stories have been carried about from one part of the world to another, or have been independently originated in many different places. here the methods of philology suggest a rule which will often be found useful. in comparing, the vocabularies of different languages, those words which directly imitate natural sounds--such as whiz, crash, crackle--are not admitted as evidence of kinship between the languages in which they occur. resemblances between such words are obviously no proof of a common ancestry; and they are often met with in languages which have demonstrably had no connection with each other. so in mythology, where we find two stories of which the primitive character is perfectly transparent, we need have no difficulty in supposing them to have originated independently. the myth of jack and his beanstalk is found all over the world; but the idea of a country above the sky, to which persons might gain access by climbing, is one which could hardly fail to occur to every barbarian. among the american tribes, as well as among the aryans, the rainbow and the milky-way have contributed the idea of a bridge of the dead, over which souls must pass on the way to the other world. in south africa, as well as in germany, the habits of the fox and of his brother the jackal have given rise to fables in which brute force is overcome by cunning. in many parts of the world we find curiously similar stories devised to account for the stumpy tails of the bear and hyaena, the hairless tail of the rat, and the blindness of the mole. and in all countries may be found the beliefs that men may be changed into beasts, or plants, or stones; that the sun is in some way tethered or constrained to follow a certain course; that the storm-cloud is a ravenous dragon; and that there are talismans which will reveal hidden treasures. all these conceptions are so obvious to the uncivilized intelligence, that stories founded upon them need not be supposed to have a common origin, unless there turns out to be a striking similarity among their minor details. on the other hand, the numerous myths of an all-destroying deluge have doubtless arisen partly from reminiscences of actually occurring local inundations, and partly from the fact that the scriptural account of a deluge has been carried all over the world by catholic and protestant missionaries. [ ] by way of illustrating these principles, let us now cite a few of the american myths so carefully collected by dr. brinton in his admirable treatise. we shall not find in the mythology of the new world the wealth of wit and imagination which has so long delighted us in the stories of herakles, perseus, hermes, sigurd, and indra. the mythic lore of the american indians is comparatively scanty and prosaic, as befits the product of a lower grade of culture and a more meagre intellect. not only are the personages less characteristically pourtrayed, but there is a continual tendency to extravagance, the sure index of an inferior imagination. nevertheless, after making due allowances for differences in the artistic method of treatment, there is between the mythologies of the old and the new worlds a fundamental resemblance. we come upon solar myths and myths of the storm curiously blended with culture-myths, as in the cases of hermes, prometheus, and kadmos. the american parallels to these are to be found in the stories of michabo, viracocha, ioskeha, and quetzalcoatl. "as elsewhere the world over, so in america, many tribes had to tell of.... an august character, who taught them what they knew,--the tillage of the soil, the properties of plants, the art of picture-writing, the secrets of magic; who founded their institutions and established their religions; who governed them long with glory abroad and peace at home; and finally did not die, but, like frederic barbarossa, charlemagne, king arthur, and all great heroes, vanished mysteriously, and still lives somewhere, ready at the right moment to return to his beloved people and lead them to victory and happiness." [ ] everyone is familiar with the numerous legends of white-skinned, full-bearded heroes, like the mild quetzalcoatl, who in times long previous to columbus came from the far east to impart the rudiments of civilization and religion to the red men. by those who first heard these stories they were supposed, with naive euhemerism, to refer to pre-columbian visits of europeans to this continent, like that of the northmen in the tenth century. but a scientific study of the subject has dissipated such notions. these legends are far too numerous, they are too similar to each other, they are too manifestly symbolical, to admit of any such interpretation. by comparing them carefully with each other, and with correlative myths of the old world, their true character soon becomes apparent. one of the most widely famous of these culture-heroes was manabozho or michabo, the great hare. with entire unanimity, says dr. brinton, the various branches of the algonquin race, "the powhatans of virginia, the lenni lenape of the delaware, the warlike hordes of new england, the ottawas of the far north, and the western tribes, perhaps without exception, spoke of this chimerical beast,' as one of the old missionaries calls it, as their common ancestor. the totem, or clan, which bore his name was looked up to with peculiar respect." not only was michabo the ruler and guardian of these numerous tribes,--he was the founder of their religious rites, the inventor of picture-writing, the ruler of the weather, the creator and preserver of earth and heaven. "from a grain of sand brought from the bottom of the primeval ocean he fashioned the habitable land, and set it floating on the waters till it grew to such a size that a strong young wolf, running constantly, died of old age ere he reached its limits." he was also, like nimrod, a mighty hunter. "one of his footsteps measured eight leagues, the great lakes were the beaver-dams he built, and when the cataracts impeded his progress he tore them away with his hands." "sometimes he was said to dwell in the skies with his brother, the snow, or, like many great spirits, to have built his wigwam in the far north on some floe of ice in the arctic ocean..... but in the oldest accounts of the missionaries he was alleged to reside toward the east; and in the holy formulae of the meda craft, when the winds are invoked to the medicine lodge, the east is summoned in his name, the door opens in that direction, and there, at the edge of the earth where the sun rises, on the shore of the infinite ocean that surrounds the land, he has his house, and sends the luminaries forth on their daily journeys." [ ] from such accounts as this we see that michabo was no more a wise instructor and legislator than minos or kadmos. like these heroes, he is a personification of the solar life-giving power, which daily comes forth from its home in the east, making the earth to rejoice. the etymology of his name confirms the otherwise clear indications of the legend itself. it is compounded of michi, "great," and wabos, which means alike "hare" and "white." "dialectic forms in algonquin for white are wabi, wape, wampi, etc.; for morning, wapan, wapanch, opah; for east, wapa, wanbun, etc.; for day, wompan, oppan; for light, oppung." so that michabo is the great white one, the god of the dawn and the east. and the etymological confusion, by virtue of which he acquired his soubriquet of the great hare, affords a curious parallel to what has often happened in aryan and semitic mythology, as we saw when discussing the subject of werewolves. keeping in mind this solar character of michabo, let us note how full of meaning are the myths concerning him. in the first cycle of these legends, "he is grandson of the moon, his father is the west wind, and his mother, a maiden, dies in giving him birth at the moment of conception. for the moon is the goddess of night; the dawn is her daughter, who brings forth the morning, and perishes herself in the act; and the west, the spirit of darkness, as the east is of light, precedes, and as it were begets the latter, as the evening does the morning. straightway, however, continues the legend, the son sought the unnatural father to revenge the death of his mother, and then commenced a long and desperate struggle. it began on the mountains. the west was forced to give ground. manabozho drove him across rivers and over mountains and lakes, and at last he came to the brink of this world. 'hold,' cried he, 'my son, you know my power, and that it is impossible to kill me.' what is this but the diurnal combat of light and darkness, carried on from what time 'the jocund morn stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops,' across the wide world to the sunset, the struggle that knows no end, for both the opponents are immortal?" [ ] even the veda nowhere affords a more transparent narrative than this. the iroquois tradition is very similar. in it appear twin brothers, [ ] born of a virgin mother, daughter of the moon, who died in giving them life. their names, ioskeha and tawiskara, signify in the oneida dialect the white one and the dark one. under the influence of christian ideas the contest between the brothers has been made to assume a moral character, like the strife between ormuzd and ahriman. but no such intention appears in the original myth, and dr. brinton has shown that none of the american tribes had any conception of a devil. when the quarrel came to blows, the dark brother was signally discomfited; and the victorious ioskeha, returning to his grandmother, "established his lodge in the far east, on the horders of the great ocean, whence the sun comes. in time he became the father of mankind, and special guardian of the iroquois." he caused the earth to bring forth, he stocked the woods with game, and taught his children the use of fire. "he it was who watched and watered their crops; 'and, indeed, without his aid,' says the old missionary, quite out of patience with their puerilities, 'they think they could not boil a pot.'" there was more in it than poor brebouf thought, as we are forcibly reminded by recent discoveries in physical science. even civilized men would find it difficult to boil a pot without the aid of solar energy. call him what we will,--ioskeha, michabo, or phoibos,--the beneficent sun is the master and sustainer of us all; and if we were to relapse into heathenism, like erckmann-chatrian's innkeeper, we could not do better than to select him as our chief object of worship. the same principles by which these simple cases are explained furnish also the key to the more complicated mythology of mexico and peru. like the deities just discussed, viracocha, the supreme god of the quichuas, rises from the bosom of lake titicaca and journeys westward, slaying with his lightnings the creatures who oppose him, until he finally disappears in the western ocean. like aphrodite, he bears in his name the evidence of his origin, viracocha signifying "foam of the sea"; and hence the "white one" (l'aube), the god of light rising white on the horizon, like the foam on the surface of the waves. the aymaras spoke of their original ancestors as white; and to this day, as dr. brinton informs us, the peruvians call a white man viracocha. the myth of quetzalcoatl is of precisely the same character. all these solar heroes present in most of their qualities and achievements a striking likeness to those of the old world. they combine the attributes of apollo, herakles, and hermes. like herakles, they journey from east to west, smiting the powers of darkness, storm, and winter with the thunderbolts of zeus or the unerring arrows of phoibos, and sinking in a blaze of glory on the western verge of the world, where the waves meet the firmament. or like hermes, in a second cycle of legends, they rise with the soft breezes of a summer morning, driving before them the bright celestial cattle whose udders are heavy with refreshing rain, fanning the flames which devour the forests, blustering at the doors of wigwams, and escaping with weird laughter through vents and crevices. the white skins and flowing beards of these american heroes may be aptly compared to the fair faces and long golden locks of their hellenic compeers. yellow hair was in all probability as rare in greece as a full beard in peru or mexico; but in each case the description suits the solar character of the hero. one important class of incidents, however is apparently quite absent from the american legends. we frequently see the dawn described as a virgin mother who dies in giving birth to the day; but nowhere do we remember seeing her pictured as a lovely or valiant or crafty maiden, ardently wooed, but speedily forsaken by her solar lover. perhaps in no respect is the superior richness and beauty of the aryan myths more manifest than in this. brynhild, urvasi, medeia, ariadne, oinone, and countless other kindred heroines, with their brilliant legends, could not be spared from the mythology of our ancestors without, leaving it meagre indeed. these were the materials which kalidasa, the attic dramatists, and the bards of the nibelungen found ready, awaiting their artistic treatment. but the mythology of the new world, with all its pretty and agreeable naivete, affords hardly enough, either of variety in situation or of complexity in motive, for a grand epic or a genuine tragedy. but little reflection is needed to assure us that the imagination of the barbarian, who either carries away his wife by brute force or buys her from her relatives as he would buy a cow, could never have originated legends in which maidens are lovingly solicited, or in which their favour is won by the performance of deeds of valour. these stories owe their existence to the romantic turn of mind which has always characterized the aryan, whose civilization, even in the times before the dispersion of his race, was sufficiently advanced to allow of his entertaining such comparatively exalted conceptions of the relations between men and women. the absence of these myths from barbaric folk-lore is, therefore, just what might be expected; but it is a fact which militates against any possible hypothesis of the common origin of aryan and barbaric mythology. if there were any genetic relationship between sigurd and ioskeha, between herakles and michabo, it would be hard to tell why brynhild and iole should have disappeared entirely from one whole group of legends, while retained, in some form or other, throughout the whole of the other group. on the other hand, the resemblances above noticed between aryan and american mythology fall very far short of the resemblances between the stories told in different parts of the aryan domain. no barbaric legend, of genuine barbaric growth, has yet been cited which resembles any aryan legend as the story of punchkin resembles the story of the heartless giant. the myths of michabo and viracocha are direct copies, so to speak, of natural phenomena, just as imitative words are direct copies of natural sounds. neither the redskin nor the indo-european had any choice as to the main features of the career of his solar divinity. he must be born of the night,--or of the dawn,--must travel westward, must slay harassing demons. eliminating these points of likeness, the resemblance between the aryan and barbaric legends is at once at an end. such an identity in point of details as that between the wooden horse which enters ilion, and the horse which bears sigurd into the place where brynhild is imprisoned, and the druidic steed which leaps with sculloge over the walls of fiach's enchanted castle, is, i believe, nowhere to be found after we leave indo-european territory. our conclusion, therefore, must be, that while the legends of the aryan and the non-aryan worlds contain common mythical elements, the legends themselves are not of common origin. the fact that certain mythical ideas are possessed alike by different races, shows that in each case a similar human intelligence has been at work explaining similar phenomena; but in order to prove a family relationship between the culture of these different races, we need something more than this. we need to prove not only a community of mythical ideas, but also a community between the stories based upon these ideas. we must show not only that michabo is like herakles in those striking features which the contemplation of solar phenomena would necessarily suggest to the imagination of the primitive myth-maker, but also that the two characters are similarly conceived, and that the two careers agree in seemingly arbitrary points of detail, as is the case in the stories of punchkin and the heartless giant. the mere fact that solar heroes, all over the world, travel in a certain path and slay imps of darkness is of great value as throwing light upon primeval habits of thought, but it is of no value as evidence for or against an alleged community of civilization between different races. the same is true of the sacredness universally attached to certain numbers. dr. blinton's opinion that the sanctity of the number four in nearly all systems of mythology is due to a primitive worship of the cardinal points, becomes very probable when we recollect that the similar pre-eminence of seven is almost demonstrably connected with the adoration of the sun, moon, and five visible planets, which has left its record in the structure and nomenclature of the aryan and semitic week. [ ] in view of these considerations, the comparison of barbaric myths with each other and with the legends of the aryan world becomes doubly interesting, as illustrating the similarity in the workings of the untrained intelligence the world over. in our first paper we saw how the moon-spots have been variously explained by indo-europeans, as a man with a thorn-bush or as two children bearing a bucket of water on a pole. in ceylon it is said that as sakyamuni was one day wandering half starved in the forest, a pious hare met him, and offered itself to him to be slain and cooked for dinner; whereupon the holy buddha set it on high in the moon, that future generations of men might see it and marvel at its piety. in the samoan islands these dark patches are supposed to be portions of a woman's figure. a certain woman was once hammering something with a mallet, when the moon arose, looking so much like a bread-fruit that the woman asked it to come down and let her child eat off a piece of it; but the moon, enraged at the insult, gobbled up woman, mallet, and child, and there, in the moon's belly, you may still behold them. according to the hottentots, the moon once sent the hare to inform men that as she died away and rose again, so should men die and again come to life. but the stupid hare forgot the purport of the message, and, coming down to the earth, proclaimed it far and wide that though the moon was invariably resuscitated whenever she died, mankind, on the other hand, should die and go to the devil. when the silly brute returned to the lunar country and told what he had done, the moon was so angry that she took up an axe and aimed a blow at his head to split it. but the axe missed and only cut his lip open; and that was the origin of the "hare-lip." maddened by the pain and the insult, the hare flew at the moon and almost scratched her eyes out; and to this day she bears on her face the marks of the hare's claws. [ ] again, every reader of the classics knows how selene cast endymion into a profound slumber because he refused her love, and how at sundown she used to come and stand above him on the latmian hill, and watch him as he lay asleep on the marble steps of a temple half hidden among drooping elm-trees, over which clambered vines heavy with dark blue grapes. this represents the rising moon looking down on the setting sun; in labrador a similar phenomenon has suggested a somewhat different story. among the esquimaux the sun is a maiden and the moon is her brother, who is overcome by a wicked passion for her. once, as this girl was at a dancing-party in a friend's hut, some one came up and took hold of her by the shoulders and shook her, which is (according to the legend) the esquimaux manner of declaring one's love. she could not tell who it was in the dark, and so she dipped her hand in some soot and smeared one of his cheeks with it. when a light was struck in the hut, she saw, to her dismay, that it was her brother, and, without waiting to learn any more, she took to her heels. he started in hot pursuit, and so they ran till they got to the end of the world,--the jumping-off place,--when they both jumped into the sky. there the moon still chases his sister, the sun; and every now and then he turns his sooty cheek toward the earth, when he becomes so dark that you cannot see him. [ ] another story, which i cite from mr. tylor, shows that malays, as well as indo-europeans, have conceived of the clouds as swan-maidens. in the island of celebes it is said that "seven heavenly nymphs came down from the sky to bathe, and they were seen by kasimbaha, who thought first that they were white doves, but in the bath he saw that they were women. then he stole one of the thin robes that gave the nymphs their power of flying, and so he caught utahagi, the one whose robe he had stolen, and took her for his wife, and she bore him a son. now she was called utahagi from a single white hair she had, which was endowed with magic power, and this hair her husband pulled out. as soon as he had done it, there arose a great storm, and utahagi went up to heaven. the child cried for its mother, and kasimbaha was in great grief, and cast about how he should follow utahagi up into the sky." here we pass to the myth of jack and the beanstalk. "a rat gnawed the thorns off the rattans, and kasimbaha clambered up by them with his son upon his back, till he came to heaven. there a little bird showed him the house of utahagi, and after various adventures he took up his abode among the gods." [ ] in siberia we find a legend of swan-maidens, which also reminds us of the story of the heartless giant. a certain samojed once went out to catch foxes, and found seven maidens swimming in a lake surrounded by gloomy pine-trees, while their feather dresses lay on the shore. he crept up and stole one of these dresses, and by and by the swan-maiden came to him shivering with cold and promising to become his wife if he would only give her back her garment of feathers. the ungallant fellow, however, did not care for a wife, but a little revenge was not unsuited to his way of thinking. there were seven robbers who used to prowl about the neighbourhood, and who, when they got home, finding their hearts in the way, used to hang them up on some pegs in the tent. one of these robbers had killed the samojed's mother; and so he promised to return the swan-maiden's dress after she should have procured for him these seven hearts. so she stole the hearts, and the samojed smashed six of them, and then woke up the seventh robber, and told him to restore his mother to life, on pain of instant death, then the robber produced a purse containing the old woman's soul, and going to the graveyard shook it over her bones, and she revived at once. then the samojed smashed the seventh heart, and the robber died; and so the swan-maiden got back her plumage and flew away rejoicing. [ ] swan-maidens are also, according to mr. baring-gould, found among the minussinian tartars. but there they appear as foul demons, like the greek harpies, who delight in drinking the blood of men slain in battle. there are forty of them, who darken the whole firmament in their flight; but sometimes they all coalesce into one great black storm-fiend, who rages for blood, like a werewolf. in south africa we find the werewolf himself. [ ] a certain hottentot was once travelling with a bushwoman and her child, when they perceived at a distance a troop of wild horses. the man, being hungry, asked the woman to turn herself into a lioness and catch one of these horses, that they might eat of it; whereupon the woman set down her child, and taking off a sort of petticoat made of human skin became instantly transformed into a lioness, which rushed across the plain, struck down a wild horse and lapped its blood. the man climbed a tree in terror, and conjured his companion to resume her natural shape. then the lioness came back, and putting on the skirt made of human skin reappeared as a woman, and took up her child, and the two friends resumed their journey after making a meal of the horse's flesh. [ ] the werewolf also appears in north america, duly furnished with his wolf-skin sack; but neither in america nor in africa is he the genuine european werewolf, inspired by a diabolic frenzy, and ravening for human flesh. the barbaric myths testify to the belief that men can be changed into beasts or have in some cases descended from beast ancestors, but the application of this belief to the explanation of abnormal cannibal cravings seems to have been confined to europe. the werewolf of the middle ages was not merely a transformed man,--he was an insane cannibal, whose monstrous appetite, due to the machinations of the devil, showed its power over his physical organism by changing the shape of it. the barbaric werewolf is the product of a lower and simpler kind of thinking. there is no diabolism about him; for barbaric races, while believing in the existence of hurtful and malicious fiends, have not a sufficiently vivid sense of moral abnormity to form the conception of diabolism. and the cannibal craving, which to the mediaeval european was a phenomenon so strange as to demand a mythological explanation, would not impress the barbarian as either very exceptional or very blameworthy. in the folk-lore of the zulus, one of the most quick-witted and intelligent of african races, the cannibal possesses many features in common with the scandinavian troll, who also has a liking for human flesh. as we saw in the preceding paper, the troll has very likely derived some of his characteristics from reminiscences of the barbarous races who preceded the aryans in central and northern europe. in like manner the long-haired cannibal of zulu nursery literature, who is always represented as belonging to a distinct race, has been supposed to be explained by the existence of inferior races conquered and displaced by the zulus. nevertheless, as dr. callaway observes, neither the long-haired mountain cannibals of western africa, nor the fulahs, nor the tribes of eghedal described by barth, "can be considered as answering to the description of long-haired as given in the zulu legends of cannibals; neither could they possibly have formed their historical basis..... it is perfectly clear that the cannibals of the zulu legends are not common men; they are magnified into giants and magicians; they are remarkably swift and enduring; fierce and terrible warriors." very probably they may have a mythical origin in modes of thought akin to those which begot the panis of the veda and the northern trolls. the parallelism is perhaps the most remarkable one which can be found in comparing barbaric with aryan folk-lore. like the panis and trolls, the cannibals are represented as the foes of the solar hero uthlakanyana, who is almost as great a traveller as odysseus, and whose presence of mind amid trying circumstances is not to be surpassed by that of the incomparable boots. uthlakanyana is as precocious as herakles or hermes. he speaks before he is born, and no sooner has he entered the world than he begins to outwit other people and get possession of their property. he works bitter ruin for the cannibals, who, with all their strength and fleetness, are no better endowed with quick wit than the trolls, whom boots invariably victimizes. on one of his journeys, uthlakanyana fell in with a cannibal. their greetings were cordial enough, and they ate a bit of leopard together, and began to build a house, and killed a couple of cows, but the cannibal's cow was lean, while uthlakanyana's was fat. then the crafty traveller, fearing that his companion might insist upon having the fat cow, turned and said, "'let the house be thatched now then we can eat our meat. you see the sky, that we shall get wet.' the cannibal said, 'you are right, child of my sister; you are a man indeed in saying, let us thatch the house, for we shall get wet.' uthlakanyana said, 'do you do it then; i will go inside, and push the thatching-needle for you, in the house.' the cannibal went up. his hair was very, very long. uthlakanyana went inside and pushed the needle for him. he thatched in the hair of the cannibal, tying it very tightly; he knotted it into the thatch constantly, taking it by separate locks and fastening it firmly, that it might be tightly fastened to the house." then the rogue went outside and began to eat of the cow which was roasted. "the cannibal said, 'what are you about, child of my sister? let us just finish the house; afterwards we can do that; we will do it together.' uthlakanyana replied, 'come down then. i cannot go into the house any more. the thatching is finished.' the cannibal assented. when he thought he was going to quit the house, he was unable to quit it. he cried out saying, 'child of my sister, how have you managed your thatching?' uthlakanyana said, 'see to it yourself. i have thatched well, for i shall not have any dispute. now i am about to eat in peace; i no longer dispute with anybody, for i am now alone with my cow.'" so the cannibal cried and raved and appealed in vain to uthlakanyana's sense of justice, until by and by "the sky came with hailstones and lightning uthlakanyana took all the meat into the house; he stayed in the house and lit a fire. it hailed and rained. the cannibal cried on the top of the house; he was struck with the hailstones, and died there on the house. it cleared. uthlakanyana went out and said, 'uncle, just come down, and come to me. it has become clear. it no longer rains, and there is no more hail, neither is there any more lightning. why are you silent?' so uthlakanyana ate his cow alone, until he had finished it. he then went on his way." [ ] in another zulu legend, a girl is stolen by cannibals, and shut up in the rock itshe-likantunjambili, which, like the rock of the forty thieves, opens and shuts at the command of those who understand its secret. she gets possession of the secret and escapes, and when the monsters pursue her she throws on the ground a calabash full of sesame, which they stop to eat. at last, getting tired of running, she climbs a tree, and there she finds her brother, who, warned by a dream, has come out to look for her. they ascend the tree together until they come to a beautiful country well stocked with fat oxen. they kill an ox, and while its flesh is roasting they amuse themselves by making a stout thong of its hide. by and by one of the cannibals, smelling the cooking meat, comes to the foot of the tree, and looking up discovers the boy and girl in the sky-country! they invite him up there; to share in their feast, and throw him an end of the thong by which to climb up. when the cannibal is dangling midway between earth and heaven, they let go the rope, and down he falls with a terrible crash. [ ] in this story the enchanted rock opened by a talismanic formula brings us again into contact with indo-european folk-lore. and that the conception has in both cases been suggested by the same natural phenomenon is rendered probable by another zulu tale, in which the cannibal's cave is opened by a swallow which flies in the air. here we have the elements of a genuine lightning-myth. we see that among these african barbarians, as well as among our own forefathers, the clouds have been conceived as birds carrying the lightning which can cleave the rocks. in america we find the same notion prevalent. the dakotahs explain the thunder as "the sound of the cloud-bird flapping his wings," and the caribs describe the lightning as a poisoned dart which the bird blows through a hollow reed, after the carib style of shooting. [ ] on the other hand, the kamtchatkans know nothing of a cloud-bird, but explain the lightning as something analogous to the flames of a volcano. the kamtchatkans say that when the mountain goblins have got their stoves well heated up, they throw overboard, with true barbaric shiftlessness, all the brands not needed for immediate use, which makes a volcanic eruption. so when it is summer on earth, it is winter in heaven; and the gods, after heating up their stoves, throw away their spare kindlingwood, which makes the lightning. [ ] when treating of indo-european solar myths, we saw the unvarying, unresting course of the sun variously explained as due to the subjection of herakles to eurystheus, to the anger of poseidon at odysseus, or to the curse laid upon the wandering jew. the barbaric mind has worked at the same problem; but the explanations which it has given are more childlike and more grotesque. a polynesian myth tells how the sun used to race through the sky so fast that men could not get enough daylight to hunt game for their subsistence. by and by an inventive genius, named maui, conceived the idea of catching the sun in a noose and making him go more deliberately. he plaited ropes and made a strong net, and, arming himself with the jawbone of his ancestress, muri-ranga-whenua, called together all his brethren, and they journeyed to the place where the sun rises, and there spread the net. when the sun came up, he stuck his head and fore-paws into the net, and while the brothers tightened the ropes so that they cut him and made him scream for mercy, maui beat him with the jawbone until he became so weak that ever since he has only been able to crawl through the sky. according to another polynesian myth, there was once a grumbling radical, who never could be satisfied with the way in which things are managed on this earth. this bold radical set out to build a stone house which should last forever; but the days were so short and the stones so heavy that he despaired of ever accomplishing his project. one night, as he lay awake thinking the matter over, it occurred to him that if he could catch the sun in a net, he could have as much daylight as was needful in order to finish his house. so he borrowed a noose from the god itu, and, it being autumn, when the sun gets sleepy and stupid, he easily caught the luminary. the sun cried till his tears made a great freshet which nearly drowned the island; but it was of no use; there he is tethered to this day. similar stories are met with in north america. a dog-rib indian once chased a squirrel up a tree until he reached the sky. there he set a snare for the squirrel and climbed down again. next day the sun was caught in the snare, and night came on at once. that is to say, the sun was eclipsed. "something wrong up there," thought the indian, "i must have caught the sun"; and so he sent up ever so many animals to release the captive. they were all burned to ashes, but at last the mole, going up and burrowing out through the ground of the sky, (!) succeeded in gnawing asunder the cords of the snare. just as it thrust its head out through the opening made in the sky-ground, it received a flash of light which put its eyes out, and that is why the mole is blind. the sun got away, but has ever since travelled more deliberately. [ ] these sun-myths, many more of which are to be found collected in mr. tylor's excellent treatise on "the early history of mankind," well illustrate both the similarity and the diversity of the results obtained by the primitive mind, in different times and countries, when engaged upon similar problems. no one would think of referring these stories to a common traditional origin with the myths of herakles and odysseus; yet both classes of tales were devised to explain the same phenomenon. both to the aryan and to the polynesian the steadfast but deliberate journey of the sun through the firmament was a strange circumstance which called for explanation; but while the meagre intelligence of the barbarian could only attain to the quaint conception of a man throwing a noose over the sun's head, the rich imagination of the indo-european created the noble picture of herakles doomed to serve the son of sthenelos, in accordance with the resistless decree of fate. another world-wide myth, which shows how similar are the mental habits of uncivilized men, is the myth of the tortoise. the hindu notion of a great tortoise that lies beneath the earth and keeps it from falling is familiar to every reader. according to one account, this tortoise, swimming in the primeval ocean, bears the earth on his back; but by and by, when the gods get ready to destroy mankind, the tortoise will grow weary and sink under his load, and then the earth will be overwhelmed by a deluge. another legend tells us that when the gods and demons took mount mandara for a churning-stick and churned the ocean to make ambrosia, the god vishnu took on the form of a tortoise and lay at the bottom of the sea, as a pivot for the whirling mountain to rest upon. but these versions of the myth are not primitive. in the original conception the world is itself a gigantic tortoise swimming in a boundless ocean; the flat surface of the earth is the lower plate which covers the reptile's belly; the rounded shell which covers his back is the sky; and the human race lives and moves and has its being inside of the tortoise. now, as mr. tylor has pointed out, many tribes of redskins hold substantially the same theory of the universe. they regard the tortoise as the symbol of the world, and address it as the mother of mankind. once, before the earth was made, the king of heaven quarrelled with his wife, and gave her such a terrible kick that she fell down into the sea. fortunately a tortoise received her on his back, and proceeded to raise up the earth, upon which the heavenly woman became the mother of mankind. these first men had white faces, and they used to dig in the ground to catch badgers. one day a zealous burrower thrust his knife too far and stabbed the tortoise, which immediately sank into the sea and drowned all the human race save one man. [ ] in finnish mythology the world is not a tortoise, but it is an egg, of which the white part is the ocean, the yolk is the earth, and the arched shell is the sky. in india this is the mundane egg of brahma; and it reappears among the yorubas as a pair of calabashes put together like oyster-shells, one making a dome over the other. in zulu-land the earth is a huge beast called usilosimapundu, whose face is a rock, and whose mouth is very large and broad and red: "in some countries which were on his body it was winter, and in others it was early harvest." many broad rivers flow over his back, and he is covered with forests and hills, as is indicated in his name, which means "the rugose or knotty-backed beast." in this group of conceptions may be seen the origin of sindbad's great fish, which lay still so long that sand and clay gradually accumulated upon its back, and at last it became covered with trees. and lastly, passing from barbaric folk-lore and from the arabian nights to the highest level of indo-european intelligence, do we not find both plato and kepler amusing themselves with speculations in which the earth figures as a stupendous animal? vi. juventus mundi. [ ] twelve years ago, when, in concluding his "studies on homer and the homeric age," mr. gladstone applied to himself the warning addressed by agamemnon to the priest of apollo, "let not nemesis catch me by the swift ships." he would seem to have intended it as a last farewell to classical studies. yet, whatever his intentions may have been, they have yielded to the sweet desire of revisiting familiar ground,--a desire as strong in the breast of the classical scholar as was the yearning which led odysseus to reject the proffered gift of immortality, so that he might but once more behold the wreathed smoke curling about the roofs of his native ithaka. in this new treatise, on the "youth of the world," mr. gladstone discusses the same questions which were treated in his earlier work; and the main conclusions reached in the "studies on homer" are here so little modified with reference to the recent progress of archaeological inquiries, that the book can hardly be said to have had any other reason for appearing, save the desire of loitering by the ships of the argives, and of returning thither as often as possible. the title selected by mr. gladstone for his new work is either a very appropriate one or a strange misnomer, according to the point of view from which it is regarded. such being the case, we might readily acquiesce in its use, and pass it by without comment, trusting that the author understood himself when he adopted it, were it not that by incidental references, and especially by his allusions to the legendary literature of the jews, mr. gladstone shows that he means more by the title than it can fairly be made to express. an author who seeks to determine prehistoric events by references to kadmos, and danaos, and abraham, is at once liable to the suspicion of holding very inadequate views as to the character of the epoch which may properly be termed the "youth of the world." often in reading mr. gladstone we are reminded of renan's strange suggestion that an exploration of the hindu kush territory, whence probably came the primitive aryans, might throw some new light on the origin of language. nothing could well be more futile. the primitive aryan language has already been partly reconstructed for us; its grammatical forms and syntactic devices are becoming familiar to scholars; one great philologist has even composed a tale in it; yet in studying this long-buried dialect we are not much nearer the first beginnings of human speech than in studying the greek of homer, the sanskrit of the vedas, or the umbrian of the igovine inscriptions. the aryan mother-tongue had passed into the last of the three stages of linguistic growth long before the break-up of the tribal communities in aryana-vaedjo, and at that early date presented a less primitive structure than is to be seen in the chinese or the mongolian of our own times. so the state of society depicted in the homeric poems, and well illustrated by mr. gladstone, is many degrees less primitive than that which is revealed to us by the archaeological researches either of pictet and windischmann, or of tylor, lubbock, and m'lennan. we shall gather evidences of this as we proceed. meanwhile let us remember that at least eleven thousand years before the homeric age men lived in communities, and manufactured pottery on the banks of the nile; and let us not leave wholly out of sight that more distant period, perhaps a million years ago, when sparse tribes of savage men, contemporaneous with the mammoths of siberia and the cave-tigers of britain, struggled against the intense cold of the glacial winters. nevertheless, though the homeric age appears to be a late one when considered with reference to the whole career of the human race, there is a point of view from which it may be justly regarded as the "youth of the world." however long man may have existed upon the earth, he becomes thoroughly and distinctly human in the eyes of the historian only at the epoch at which he began to create for himself a literature. as far back as we can trace the progress of the human race continuously by means of the written word, so far do we feel a true historical interest in its fortunes, and pursue our studies with a sympathy which the mere lapse of time is powerless to impair. but the primeval man, whose history never has been and never will be written, whose career on the earth, dateless and chartless, can be dimly revealed to us only by palaeontology, excites in us a very different feeling. though with the keenest interest we ransack every nook and corner of the earth's surface for information about him, we are all the while aware that what we are studying is human zoology and not history. our neanderthal man is a specimen, not a character. we cannot ask him the homeric question, what is his name, who were his parents, and how did he get where we found him. his language has died with him, and he can render no account of himself. we can only regard him specifically as homo anthropos, a creature of bigger brain than his congener homo pithekos, and of vastly greater promise. but this, we say, is physical science, and not history. for the historian, therefore, who studies man in his various social relations, the youth of the world is the period at which literature begins. we regard the history of the western world as beginning about the tenth century before the christian era, because at that date we find literature, in greece and palestine, beginning to throw direct light upon the social and intellectual condition of a portion of mankind. that great empires, rich in historical interest and in materials for sociological generalizations, had existed for centuries before that date, in egypt and assyria, we do not doubt, since they appear at the dawn of history with all the marks of great antiquity; but the only steady historical light thrown upon them shines from the pages of greek and hebrew authors, and these know them only in their latest period. for information concerning their early careers we must look, not to history, but to linguistic archaeology, a science which can help us to general results, but cannot enable us to fix dates, save in the crudest manner. we mention the tenth century before christ as the earliest period at which we can begin to study human society in general and greek society in particular, through the medium of literature. but, strictly speaking, the epoch in question is one which cannot be fixed with accuracy. the earliest ascertainable date in greek history is that of the olympiad of koroibos, b. c. . there is no doubt that the homeric poems were written before this date, and that homer is therefore strictly prehistoric. had this fact been duly realized by those scholars who have not attempted to deny it, a vast amount of profitless discussion might have been avoided. sooner or later, as grote says, "the lesson must be learnt, hard and painful though it be, that no imaginable reach of critical acumen will of itself enable us to discriminate fancy from reality, in the absence of a tolerable stock of evidence." we do not know who homer was; we do not know where or when he lived; and in all probability we shall never know. the data for settling the question are not now accessible, and it is not likely that they will ever be discovered. even in early antiquity the question was wrapped in an obscurity as deep as that which shrouds it to-day. the case between the seven or eight cities which claimed to be the birthplace of the poet, and which welcker has so ably discussed, cannot be decided. the feebleness of the evidence brought into court may be judged from the fact that the claims of chios and the story of the poet's blindness rest alike upon a doubtful allusion in the hymn to apollo, which thukydides (iii. ) accepted as authentic. the majority of modern critics have consoled themselves with the vague conclusion that, as between the two great divisions of the early greek world, homer at least belonged to the asiatic. but mr. gladstone has shown good reasons for doubting this opinion. he has pointed out several instances in which the poems seem to betray a closer topographical acquaintance with european than with asiatic greece, and concludes that athens and argos have at least as good a claim to homer as chios or smyrna. it is far more desirable that we should form an approximate opinion as to the date of the homeric poems, than that we should seek to determine the exact locality in which they originated. yet the one question is hardly less obscure than the other. different writers of antiquity assigned eight different epochs to homer, of which the earliest is separated from the most recent by an interval of four hundred and sixty years,--a period as long as that which separates the black prince from the duke of wellington, or the age of perikles from the christian era. while theopompos quite preposterously brings him down as late as the twenty-third olympiad, krates removes him to the twelfth century b. c. the date ordinarily accepted by modern critics is the one assigned by herodotos, b. c. yet mr. gladstone shows reasons, which appear to me convincing, for doubting or rejecting this date. i refer to the much-abused legend of the children of herakles, which seems capable of yielding an item of trustworthy testimony, provided it be circumspectly dealt with. i differ from mr. gladstone in not regarding the legend as historical in its present shape. in my apprehension, hyllos and oxylos, as historical personages, have no value whatever; and i faithfully follow mr. grote, in refusing to accept any date earlier than the olympiad of koroibos. the tale of the "return of the herakleids" is undoubtedly as unworthy of credit as the legend of hengst and horsa; yet, like the latter, it doubtless embodies a historical occurrence. one cannot approve, as scholarlike or philosophical, the scepticism of mr. cox, who can see in the whole narrative nothing but a solar myth. there certainly was a time when the dorian tribes--described in the legend as the allies of the children of herakles--conquered peloponnesos; and that time was certainly subsequent to the composition of the homeric poems. it is incredible that the iliad and the odyssey should ignore the existence of dorians in peloponnesos, if there were dorians not only dwelling but ruling there at the time when the poems were written. the poems are very accurate and rigorously consistent in their use of ethnical appellatives; and their author, in speaking of achaians and argives, is as evidently alluding to peoples directly known to him, as is shakespeare when he mentions danes and scotchmen. now homer knows achaians, argives, and pelasgians dwelling in peloponnesos; and he knows dorians also, but only as a people inhabiting crete. (odyss. xix. .) with homer, moreover, the hellenes are not the greeks in general but only a people dwelling in the north, in thessaly. when these poems were written, greece was not known as hellas, but as achaia,--the whole country taking its name from the achaians, the dominant race in peloponnesos. now at the beginning of the truly historical period, in the eighth century b. c., all this is changed. the greeks as a people are called hellenes; the dorians rule in peloponnesos, while their lands are tilled by argive helots; and the achaians appear only as an insignificant people occupying the southern shore of the corinthian gulf. how this change took place we cannot tell. the explanation of it can never be obtained from history, though some light may perhaps be thrown upon it by linguistic archaeology. but at all events it was a great change, and could not have taken place in a moment. it is fair to suppose that the helleno-dorian conquest must have begun at least a century before the first olympiad; for otherwise the geographical limits of the various greek races would not have been so completely established as we find them to have been at that date. the greeks, indeed, supposed it to have begun at least three centuries earlier, but it is impossible to collect evidence which will either refute or establish that opinion. for our purposes it is enough to know that the conquest could not have taken place later than b. c.; and if this be the case, the minimum date for the composition of the homeric poems must be the tenth century before christ; which is, in fact, the date assigned by aristotle. thus far, and no farther, i believe it possible to go with safety. whether the poems were composed in the tenth, eleventh, or twelfth century cannot be determined. we are justified only in placing them far enough back to allow the helleno-dorian conquest to intervene between their composition and the beginning of recorded history. the tenth century b. c. is the latest date which will account for all the phenomena involved in the case, and with this result we must be satisfied. even on this showing, the iliad and odyssey appear as the oldest existing specimens of aryan literature, save perhaps the hymns of the rig-veda and the sacred books of the avesta. the apparent difficulty of preserving such long poems for three or four centuries without the aid of writing may seem at first sight to justify the hypothesis of wolf, that they are mere collections of ancient ballads, like those which make up the mahabharata, preserved in the memories of a dozen or twenty bards, and first arranged under the orders of peisistratos. but on a careful examination this hypothesis is seen to raise more difficulties than it solves. what was there in the position of peisistratos, or of athens itself in the sixth century b. c., so authoritative as to compel all greeks to recognize the recension then and there made of their revered poet? besides which the celebrated ordinance of solon respecting the rhapsodes at the panathenaia obliges us to infer the existence of written manuscripts of homer previous to b. c. as mr. grote well observes, the interference of peisistratos "presupposes a certain foreknown and ancient aggregate, the main lineaments of which were familiar to the grecian public, although many of the rhapsodes in their practice may have deviated from it both by omission and interpolation. in correcting the athenian recitations conformably with such understood general type, peisistratos might hope both to procure respect for athens and to constitute a fashion for the rest of greece. but this step of 'collecting the torn body of sacred homer' is something generically different from the composition of a new iliad out of pre-existing songs: the former is as easy, suitable, and promising as the latter is violent and gratuitous." [ ] as for wolf's objection, that the iliad and odyssey are too long to have been preserved by memory, it may be met by a simple denial. it is a strange objection indeed, coming from a man of wolf's retentive memory. i do not see how the acquisition of the two poems can be regarded as such a very arduous task; and if literature were as scanty now as in greek antiquity, there are doubtless many scholars who would long since have had them at their tongues' end. sir g. c. lewis, with but little conscious effort, managed to carry in his head a very considerable portion of greek and latin classic literature; and niebuhr (who once restored from recollection a book of accounts which had been accidentally destroyed) was in the habit of referring to book and chapter of an ancient author without consulting his notes. nay, there is professor sophocles, of harvard university, who, if you suddenly stop and interrogate him in the street, will tell you just how many times any given greek word occurs in thukydides, or in aeschylos, or in plato, and will obligingly rehearse for you the context. if all extant copies of the homeric poems were to be gathered together and burnt up to-day, like don quixote's library, or like those arabic manuscripts of which cardinal ximenes made a bonfire in the streets of granada, the poems could very likely be reproduced and orally transmitted for several generations; and much easier must it have been for the greeks to preserve these books, which their imagination invested with a quasi-sanctity, and which constituted the greater part of the literary furniture of their minds. in xenophon's time there were educated gentlemen at athens who could repeat both iliad and odyssey verbatim. (xenoph. sympos., iii. .) besides this, we know that at chios there was a company of bards, known as homerids, whose business it was to recite these poems from memory; and from the edicts of solon and the sikyonian kleisthenes (herod., v. ), we may infer that the case was the same in other parts of greece. passages from the iliad used to be sung at the pythian festivals, to the accompaniment of the harp (athenaeus, xiv. ), and in at least two of the ionic islands of the aegaean there were regular competitive exhibitions by trained young men, at which prizes were given to the best reciter. the difficulty of preserving the poems, under such circumstances, becomes very insignificant; and the wolfian argument quite vanishes when we reflect that it would have been no easier to preserve a dozen or twenty short poems than two long ones. nay, the coherent, orderly arrangement of the iliad and odyssey would make them even easier to remember than a group of short rhapsodies not consecutively arranged. when we come to interrogate the poems themselves, we find in them quite convincing evidence that they were originally composed for the ear alone, and without reference to manuscript assistance. they abound in catchwords, and in verbal repetitions. the "catalogue of ships," as mr. gladstone has acutely observed, is arranged in well-defined sections, in such a way that the end of each section suggests the beginning of the next one. it resembles the versus memoriales found in old-fashioned grammars. but the most convincing proof of all is to be found in the changes which greek pronunciation went through between the ages of homer and peisistratos. "at the time when these poems were composed, the digamma (or w) was an effective consonant, and figured as such in the structure of the verse; at the time when they were committed to writing, it had ceased to be pronounced, and therefore never found a place in any of the manuscripts,--insomuch that the alexandrian critics, though they knew of its existence in the much later poems of alkaios and sappho, never recognized it in homer. the hiatus, and the various perplexities of metre, occasioned by the loss of the digamma, were corrected by different grammatical stratagems. but the whole history of this lost letter is very curious, and is rendered intelligible only by the supposition that the iliad and odyssey belonged for a wide space of time to the memory, the voice, and the ear exclusively." [ ] many of these facts are of course fully recognized by the wolfians; but the inference drawn from them, that the homeric poems began to exist in a piecemeal condition, is, as we have seen, unnecessary. these poems may indeed be compared, in a certain sense, with the early sacred and epic literature of the jews, indians, and teutons. but if we assign a plurality of composers to the psalms and pentateuch, the mahabharata, the vedas, and the edda, we do so because of internal evidence furnished by the books themselves, and not because these books could not have been preserved by oral tradition. is there, then, in the homeric poems any such internal evidence of dual or plural origin as is furnished by the interlaced elohistic and jehovistic documents of the pentateuch? a careful investigation will show that there is not. any scholar who has given some attention to the subject can readily distinguish the elohistic from the jehovistic portions of the pentateuch; and, save in the case of a few sporadic verses, most biblical critics coincide in the separation which they make between the two. but the attempts which have been made to break up the iliad and odyssey have resulted in no such harmonious agreement. there are as many systems as there are critics, and naturally enough. for the iliad and the odyssey are as much alike as two peas, and the resemblance which holds between the two holds also between the different parts of each poem. from the appearance of the injured chryses in the grecian camp down to the intervention of athene on the field of contest at ithaka, we find in each book and in each paragraph the same style, the same peculiarities of expression, the same habits of thought, the same quite unique manifestations of the faculty of observation. now if the style were commonplace, the observation slovenly, or the thought trivial, as is wont to be the case in ballad-literature, this argument from similarity might not carry with it much conviction. but when we reflect that throughout the whole course of human history no other works, save the best tragedies of shakespeare, have ever been written which for combined keenness of observation, elevation of thought, and sublimity of style can compare with the homeric poems, we must admit that the argument has very great weight indeed. let us take, for example, the sixth and twenty-fourth books of the iliad. according to the theory of lachmann, the most eminent champion of the wolfian hypothesis, these are by different authors. human speech has perhaps never been brought so near to the limit of its capacity of expressing deep emotion as in the scene between priam and achilleus in the twenty-fourth book; while the interview between hektor and andromache in the sixth similarly wellnigh exhausts the power of language. now, the literary critic has a right to ask whether it is probable that two such passages, agreeing perfectly in turn of expression, and alike exhibiting the same unapproachable degree of excellence, could have been produced by two different authors. and the physiologist--with some inward misgivings suggested by mr. galton's theory that the greeks surpassed us in genius even as we surpass the negroes--has a right to ask whether it is in the natural course of things for two such wonderful poets, strangely agreeing in their minutest psychological characteristics, to be produced at the same time. and the difficulty thus raised becomes overwhelming when we reflect that it is the coexistence of not two only, but at least twenty such geniuses which the wolfian hypothesis requires us to account for. that theory worked very well as long as scholars thoughtlessly assumed that the iliad and odyssey were analogous to ballad poetry. but, except in the simplicity of the primitive diction, there is no such analogy. the power and beauty of the iliad are never so hopelessly lost as when it is rendered into the style of a modern ballad. one might as well attempt to preserve the grandeur of the triumphant close of milton's lycidas by turning it into the light anacreontics of the ode to "eros stung by a bee." the peculiarity of the homeric poetry, which defies translation, is its union of the simplicity characteristic of an early age with a sustained elevation of style, which can be explained only as due to individual genius. the same conclusion is forced upon us when we examine the artistic structure of these poems. with regard to the odyssey in particular, mr. grote has elaborately shown that its structure is so thoroughly integral, that no considerable portion could be subtracted without converting the poem into a more or less admirable fragment. the iliad stands in a somewhat different position. there are unmistakable peculiarities in its structure, which have led even mr. grote, who utterly rejects the wolfian hypothesis, to regard it as made up of two poems; although he inclines to the belief that the later poem was grafted upon the earlier by its own author, by way of further elucidation and expansion; just as goethe, in his old age, added a new part to "faust." according to mr. grote, the iliad, as originally conceived, was properly an achilleis; its design being, as indicated in the opening lines of the poem, to depict the wrath of achilleus and the unutterable woes which it entailed upon the greeks the plot of this primitive achilleis is entirely contained in books i., viii., and xi.-xxii.; and, in mr. grote's opinion, the remaining books injure the symmetry of this plot by unnecessarily prolonging the duration of the wrath, while the embassy to achilleus, in the ninth book, unduly anticipates the conduct of agamemnon in the nineteenth, and is therefore, as a piece of bungling work, to be referred to the hands of an inferior interpolator. mr. grote thinks it probable that these books, with the exception of the ninth, were subsequently added by the poet, with a view to enlarging the original achilleis into a real iliad, describing the war of the greeks against troy. with reference to this hypothesis, i gladly admit that mr. grote is, of all men now living, the one best entitled to a reverential hearing on almost any point connected with greek antiquity. nevertheless it seems to me that his theory rests solely upon imagined difficulties which have no real existence. i doubt if any scholar, reading the iliad ever so much, would ever be struck by these alleged inconsistencies of structure, unless they were suggested by some a priori theory. and i fear that the wolfian theory, in spite of mr. grote's emphatic rejection of it, is responsible for some of these over-refined criticisms. even as it stands, the iliad is not an account of the war against troy. it begins in the tenth year of the siege, and it does not continue to the capture of the city. it is simply occupied with an episode in the war,--with the wrath of achilleus and its consequences, according to the plan marked out in the opening lines. the supposed additions, therefore, though they may have given to the poem a somewhat wider scope, have not at any rate changed its primitive character of an achilleis. to my mind they seem even called for by the original conception of the consequences of the wrath. to have inserted the battle at the ships, in which sarpedon breaks down the wall of the greeks, immediately after the occurrences of the first book, would have been too abrupt altogether. zeus, after his reluctant promise to thetis, must not be expected so suddenly to exhibit such fell determination. and after the long series of books describing the valorous deeds of aias, diomedes, agamemnon, odysseus, and menelaos, the powerful intervention of achilleus appears in far grander proportions than would otherwise be possible. as for the embassy to achilleus, in the ninth book, i am unable to see how the final reconciliation with agamemnon would be complete without it. as mr. gladstone well observes, what achilleus wants is not restitution, but apology; and agamemnon offers no apology until the nineteenth book. in his answer to the ambassadors, achilleus scornfully rejects the proposals which imply that the mere return of briseis will satisfy his righteous resentment, unless it be accompanied with that public humiliation to which circumstances have not yet compelled the leader of the greeks to subject himself. achilleus is not to be bought or cajoled. even the extreme distress of the greeks in the thirteenth book does not prevail upon him; nor is there anything in the poem to show that he ever would have laid aside his wrath, had not the death of patroklos supplied him with a new and wholly unforeseen motive. it seems to me that his entrance into the battle after the death of his friend would lose half its poetic effect, were it not preceded by some such scene as that in the ninth book, in which he is represented as deaf to all ordinary inducements. as for the two concluding books, which mr. grote is inclined to regard as a subsequent addition, not necessitated by the plan of the poem, i am at a loss to see how the poem can be considered complete without them. to leave the bodies of patroklos and hektor unburied would be in the highest degree shocking to greek religious feelings. remembering the sentence incurred, in far less superstitious times, by the generals at arginusai, it is impossible to believe that any conclusion which left patroklos's manes unpropitiated, and the mutilated corpse of hektor unransomed, could have satisfied either the poet or his hearers. for further particulars i must refer the reader to the excellent criticisms of mr. gladstone, and also to the article on "greek history and legend" in the second volume of mr. mill's "dissertations and discussions." a careful study of the arguments of these writers, and, above all, a thorough and independent examination of the iliad itself, will, i believe, convince the student that this great poem is from beginning to end the consistent production of a single author. the arguments of those who would attribute the iliad and odyssey, taken as wholes, to two different authors, rest chiefly upon some apparent discrepancies in the mythology of the two poems; but many of these difficulties have been completely solved by the recent progress of the science of comparative mythology. thus, for example, the fact that, in the iliad, hephaistos is called the husband of charis, while in the odyssey he is called the husband of aphrodite, has been cited even by mr. grote as evidence that the two poems are not by the same author. it seems to me that one such discrepancy, in the midst of complete general agreement, would be much better explained as cervantes explained his own inconsistency with reference to the stealing of sancho's mule, in the twenty-second chapter of "don quixote." but there is no discrepancy. aphrodite, though originally the moon-goddess, like the german horsel, had before homer's time acquired many of the attributes of the dawn-goddess athene, while her lunar characteristics had been to a great extent transferred to artemis and persephone. in her renovated character, as goddess of the dawn, aphrodite became identified with charis, who appears in the rig-veda as dawn-goddess. in the post-homeric mythology, the two were again separated, and charis, becoming divided in personality, appears as the charites, or graces, who were supposed to be constant attendants of aphrodite. but in the homeric poems the two are still identical, and either charis or aphrodite may be called the wife of the fire-god, without inconsistency. thus to sum up, i believe that mr. gladstone is quite right in maintaining that both the iliad and odyssey are, from beginning to end, with the exception of a few insignificant interpolations, the work of a single author, whom we have no ground for calling by any other name than that of homer. i believe, moreover, that this author lived before the beginning of authentic history, and that we can determine neither his age nor his country with precision. we can only decide that he was a greek who lived at some time previous to the year b.c. here, however, i must begin to part company with mr. gladstone, and shall henceforth unfortunately have frequent occasion to differ from him on points of fundamental importance. for mr. gladstone not only regards the homeric age as strictly within the limits of authentic history, but he even goes much further than this. he would not only fix the date of homer positively in the twelfth century b. c., but he regards the trojan war as a purely historical event, of which homer is the authentic historian and the probable eye-witness. nay, he even takes the word of the poet as proof conclusive of the historical character of events happening several generations before the troika, according to the legendary chronology. he not only regards agamemnon, achilleus, and paris as actual personages, but he ascribes the same reality to characters like danaos, kadmos, and perseus, and talks of the pelopid and aiolid dynasties, and the empire of minos, with as much confidence as if he were dealing with karlings or capetians, or with the epoch of the crusades. it is disheartening, at the present day, and after so much has been finally settled by writers like grote, mommsen, and sir g. c. lewis, to come upon such views in the work of a man of scholarship and intelligence. one begins to wonder how many more times it will be necessary to prove that dates and events are of no historical value, unless attested by nearly contemporary evidence. pausanias and plutarch were able men no doubt, and thukydides was a profound historian; but what these writers thought of the herakleid invasion, the age of homer, and the war of troy, can have no great weight with the critical historian, since even in the time of thukydides these events were as completely obscured by lapse of time as they are now. there is no literary greek history before the age of hekataios and herodotos, three centuries subsequent to the first recorded olympiad. a portion of this period is satisfactorily covered by inscriptions, but even these fail us before we get within a century of this earliest ascertainable date. even the career of the lawgiver lykourgos, which seems to belong to the commencement of the eighth century b. c., presents us, from lack of anything like contemporary records, with many insoluble problems. the helleno-dorian conquest, as we have seen, must have occurred at some time or other; but it evidently did not occur within two centuries of the earliest known inscription, and it is therefore folly to imagine that we can determine its date or ascertain the circumstances which attended it. anterior to this event there is but one fact in greek antiquity directly known to us,--the existence of the homeric poems. the belief that there was a trojan war rests exclusively upon the contents of those poems: there is no other independent testimony to it whatever. but the homeric poems are of no value as testimony to the truth of the statements contained in them, unless it can be proved that their author was either contemporary with the troika, or else derived his information from contemporary witnesses. this can never be proved. to assume, as mr. gladstone does, that homer lived within fifty years after the troika, is to make a purely gratuitous assumption. for aught the wisest historian can tell, the interval may have been five hundred years, or a thousand. indeed the iliad itself expressly declares that it is dealing with an ancient state of things which no longer exists. it is difficult to see what else can be meant by the statement that the heroes of the troika belong to an order of men no longer seen upon the earth. (iliad, v. .) most assuredly achilleus the son of thetis, and sarpedon the son of zeus, and helena the daughter of zeus, are no ordinary mortals, such as might have been seen and conversed with by the poet's grandfather. they belong to an inferior order of gods, according to the peculiar anthropomorphism of the greeks, in which deity and humanity are so closely mingled that it is difficult to tell where the one begins and the other ends. diomedes, single-handed, vanquishes not only the gentle aphrodite, but even the god of battles himself, the terrible ares. nestor quaffs lightly from a goblet which, we are told, not two men among the poet's contemporaries could by their united exertions raise and place upon a table. aias and hektor and aineias hurl enormous masses of rock as easily as an ordinary man would throw a pebble. all this shows that the poet, in his naive way, conceiving of these heroes as personages of a remote past, was endeavouring as far as possible to ascribe to them the attributes of superior beings. if all that were divine, marvellous, or superhuman were to be left out of the poems, the supposed historical residue would hardly be worth the trouble of saving. as mr. cox well observes, "it is of the very essence of the narrative that paris, who has deserted oinone, the child of the stream kebren, and before whom here, athene, and aphrodite had appeared as claimants for the golden apple, steals from sparta the beautiful sister of the dioskouroi; that the chiefs are summoned together for no other purpose than to avenge her woes and wrongs; that achilleus, the son of the sea-nymph thetis, the wielder of invincible weapons and the lord of undying horses, goes to fight in a quarrel which is not his own; that his wrath is roused because he is robbed of the maiden briseis, and that henceforth he takes no part in the strife until his friend patroklos has been slain; that then he puts on the new armour which thetis brings to him from the anvil of hephaistos, and goes forth to win the victory. the details are throughout of the same nature. achilleus sees and converses with athene; aphrodite is wounded by diomedes, and sleep and death bear away the lifeless sarpedon on their noiseless wings to the far-off land of light." in view of all this it is evident that homer was not describing, like a salaried historiographer, the state of things which existed in the time of his father or grandfather. to his mind the occurrences which he described were those of a remote, a wonderful, a semi-divine past. this conclusion, which i have thus far supported merely by reference to the iliad itself, becomes irresistible as soon as we take into account the results obtained during the past thirty years by the science of comparative mythology. as long as our view was restricted to greece, it was perhaps excusable that achilleus and paris should be taken for exaggerated copies of actual persons. since the day when grimm laid the foundations of the science of mythology, all this has been changed. it is now held that achilleus and paris and helena are to be found, not only in the iliad, but also in the rig-veda, and therefore, as mythical conceptions, date, not from homer, but from a period preceding the dispersion of the aryan nations. the tale of the wrath of achilleus, far from originating with homer, far from being recorded by the author of the iliad as by an eyewitness, must have been known in its essential features in aryana-vaedjo, at that remote epoch when the indian, the greek, and the teuton were as yet one and the same. for the story has been retained by the three races alike, in all its principal features; though the veda has left it in the sky where it originally belonged, while the iliad and the nibelungenlied have brought it down to earth, the one locating it in asia minor, and the other in northwestern europe. [ ] in the rig-veda the panis are the genii of night and winter, corresponding to the nibelungs, or "children of the mist," in the teutonic legend, and to the children of nephele (cloud) in the greek myth of the golden fleece. the panis steal the cattle of the sun (indra, helios, herakles), and carry them by an unknown route to a dark cave eastward. sarama, the creeping dawn, is sent by indra to find and recover them. the panis then tamper with sarama, and try their best to induce her to betray her solar lord. for a while she is prevailed upon to dally with them; yet she ultimately returns to give indra the information needful in order that he might conquer the panis, just as helena, in the slightly altered version, ultimately returns to her western home, carrying with her the treasures (ktemata, iliad, ii. ) of which paris had robbed menelaos. but, before the bright indra and his solar heroes can reconquer their treasures they must take captive the offspring of brisaya, the violet light of morning. thus achilleus, answering to the solar champion aharyu, takes captive the daughter of brises. but as the sun must always be parted from the morning-light, to return to it again just before setting, so achilleus loses briseis, and regains her only just before his final struggle. in similar wise herakles is parted from iole ("the violet one"), and sigurd from brynhild. in sullen wrath the hero retires from the conflict, and his myrmidons are no longer seen on the battle-field, as the sun hides behind the dark cloud and his rays no longer appear about him. yet toward the evening, as briseis returns, he appears in his might, clothed in the dazzling armour wrought for him by the fire-god hephaistos, and with his invincible spear slays the great storm-cloud, which during his absence had wellnigh prevailed over the champions of the daylight. but his triumph is short-lived; for having trampled on the clouds that had opposed him, while yet crimsoned with the fierce carnage, the sharp arrow of the night-demon paris slays him at the western gates. we have not space to go into further details. in mr. cox's "mythology of the aryan nations," and "tales of ancient greece," the reader will find the entire contents of the iliad and odyssey thus minutely illustrated by comparison with the veda, the edda, and the lay of the nibelungs. ancient as the homeric poems undoubtedly are, they are modern in comparison with the tale of achilleus and helena, as here unfolded. the date of the entrance of the greeks into europe will perhaps never be determined; but i do not see how any competent scholar can well place it at less than eight hundred or a thousand years before the time of homer. between the two epochs the greek, latin, umbrian, and keltic lauguages had time to acquire distinct individualities. far earlier, therefore, than the homeric "juventus mundi" was that "youth of the world," in which the aryan forefathers, knowing no abstract terms, and possessing no philosophy but fetichism, deliberately spoke of the sun, and the dawn, and the clouds, as persons or as animals. the veda, though composed much later than this,--perhaps as late as the iliad,--nevertheless preserves the record of the mental life of this period. the vedic poet is still dimly aware that sarama is the fickle twilight, and the panis the night-demons who strive to coax her from her allegiance to the day-god. he keeps the scene of action in the sky. but the homeric greek had long since forgotten that helena and paris were anything more than semi-divine mortals, the daughter of zeus and the son of the zeus-descended priam. the hindu understood that dyaus ("the bright one") meant the sky, and sarama ("the creeping one") the dawn, and spoke significantly when he called the latter the daughter of the former. but the greek could not know that zeus was derived from a root div, "to shine," or that helena belonged to a root sar, "to creep." phonetic change thus helped him to rise from fetichism to polytheism. his nature-gods became thoroughly anthropomorphic; and he probably no more remembered that achilleus originally signified the sun, than we remember that the word god, which we use to denote the most vast of conceptions, originally meant simply the storm-wind. indeed, when the fetichistic tendency led the greek again to personify the powers of nature, he had recourse to new names formed from his own language. thus, beside apollo we have helios; selene beside artemis and persephone; eos beside athene; gaia beside demeter. as a further consequence of this decomposition and new development of the old aryan mythology, we find, as might be expected, that the homeric poems are not always consistent in their use of their mythic materials. thus, paris, the night-demon, is--to max muller's perplexity--invested with many of the attributes of the bright solar heroes. "like perseus, oidipous, romulus, and cyrus, he is doomed to bring ruin on his parents; like them he is exposed in his infancy on the hillside, and rescued by a shepherd." all the solar heroes begin life in this way. whether, like apollo, born of the dark night (leto), or like oidipous, of the violet dawn (iokaste), they are alike destined to bring destruction on their parents, as the night and the dawn are both destroyed by the sun. the exposure of the child in infancy represents the long rays of the morning-sun resting on the hillside. then paris forsakes oinone ("the wine-coloured one"), but meets her again at the gloaming when she lays herself by his side amid the crimson flames of the funeral pyre. sarpedon also, a solar hero, is made to fight on the side of the niblungs or trojans, attended by his friend glaukos ("the brilliant one"). they command the lykians, or "children of light"; and with them comes also memnon, son of the dawn, from the fiery land of the aithiopes, the favourite haunt of zeus and the gods of olympos. the iliad-myth must therefore have been current many ages before the greeks inhabited greece, long before there was any ilion to be conquered. nevertheless, this does not forbid the supposition that the legend, as we have it, may have been formed by the crystallization of mythical conceptions about a nucleus of genuine tradition. in this view i am upheld by a most sagacious and accurate scholar, mr. e. a. freeman, who finds in carlovingian romance an excellent illustration of the problem before us. the charlemagne of romance is a mythical personage. he is supposed to have been a frenchman, at a time when neither the french nation nor the french language can properly be said to have existed; and he is represented as a doughty crusader, although crusading was not thought of until long after the karolingian era. the legendary deeds of charlemagne are not conformed to the ordinary rules of geography and chronology. he is a myth, and, what is more, he is a solar myth,--an avatar, or at least a representative, of odin in his solar capacity. if in his case legend were not controlled and rectified by history, he would be for us as unreal as agamemnon. history, however, tells us that there was an emperor karl, german in race, name, and language, who was one of the two or three greatest men of action that the world has ever seen, and who in the ninth century ruled over all western europe. to the historic karl corresponds in many particulars the mythical charlemagne. the legend has preserved the fact, which without the information supplied by history we might perhaps set down as a fiction, that there was a time when germany, gaul, italy, and part of spain formed a single empire. and, as mr. freeman has well observed, the mythical crusades of charlemagne are good evidence that there were crusades, although the real karl had nothing whatever to do with one. now the case of agamemnon may be much like that of charlemagne, except that we no longer have history to help us in rectifying the legend. the iliad preserves the tradition of a time when a large portion of the islands and mainland of greece were at least partially subject to a common suzerain; and, as mr. freeman has again shrewdly suggested, the assignment of a place like mykenai, instead of athens or sparta or argos, as the seat of the suzerainty, is strong evidence of the trustworthiness of the tradition. it appears to show that the legend was constrained by some remembered fact, instead of being guided by general probability. charlemagne's seat of government has been transferred in romance from aachen to paris; had it really been at paris, says mr. freeman, no one would have thought of transferring it to aachen. moreover, the story of agamemnon, though uncontrolled by historic records, is here at least supported by archaeologic remains, which prove mykenai to have been at some time or other a place of great consequence. then, as to the trojan war, we know that the greeks several times crossed the aegaean and colonized a large part of the seacoast of asia minor. in order to do this it was necessary to oust from their homes many warlike communities of lydians and bithynians, and we may be sure that this was not done without prolonged fighting. there may very probably have been now and then a levy en masse in prehistoric greece, as there was in mediaeval europe; and whether the great suzerain at mykenai ever attended one or not, legend would be sure to send him on such an expedition, as it afterwards sent charlemagne on a crusade. it is therefore quite possible that agamemnon and menelaos may represent dimly remembered sovereigns or heroes, with their characters and actions distorted to suit the exigencies of a narrative founded upon a solar myth. the character of the nibelungenlied here well illustrates that of the iliad. siegfried and brunhild, hagen and gunther, seem to be mere personifications of physical phenomena; but etzel and dietrich are none other than attila and theodoric surrounded with mythical attributes; and even the conception of brunhild has been supposed to contain elements derived from the traditional recollection of the historical brunehault. when, therefore, achilleus is said, like a true sun-god, to have died by a wound from a sharp instrument in the only vulnerable part of his body, we may reply that the legendary charlemagne conducts himself in many respects like a solar deity. if odysseus detained by kalypso represents the sun ensnared and held captive by the pale goddess of night, the legend of frederic barbarossa asleep in a thuringian mountain embodies a portion of a kindred conception. we know that charlemagne and frederic have been substituted for odin; we may suspect that with the mythical impersonations of achilleus and odysseus some traditional figures may be blended. we should remember that in early times the solar-myth was a sort of type after which all wonderful stories would be patterned, and that to such a type tradition also would be made to conform. in suggesting this view, we are not opening the door to euhemerism. if there is any one conclusion concerning the homeric poems which the labours of a whole generation of scholars may be said to have satisfactorily established, it is this, that no trustworthy history can be obtained from either the iliad or the odyssey merely by sifting out the mythical element. even if the poems contain the faint reminiscence of an actual event, that event is inextricably wrapped up in mythical phraseology, so that by no cunning of the scholar can it be construed into history. in view of this it is quite useless for mr. gladstone to attempt to base historical conclusions upon the fact that helena is always called "argive helen," or to draw ethnological inferences from the circumstances that menelaos, achilleus, and the rest of the greek heroes, have yellow hair, while the trojans are never so described. the argos of the myth is not the city of peloponnesos, though doubtless so construed even in homer's time. it is "the bright land" where zeus resides, and the epithet is applied to his wife here and his daughter helena, as well as to the dog of odysseus, who reappears with sarameyas in the veda. as for yellow hair, there is no evidence that greeks have ever commonly possessed it; but no other colour would do for a solar hero, and it accordingly characterizes the entire company of them, wherever found, while for the trojans, or children of night, it is not required. a wider acquaintance with the results which have been obtained during the past thirty years by the comparative study of languages and mythologies would have led mr. gladstone to reconsider many of his views concerning the homeric poems, and might perhaps have led him to cut out half or two thirds of his book as hopelessly antiquated. the chapter on the divinities of olympos would certainly have had to be rewritten, and the ridiculous theory of a primeval revelation abandoned. one can hardly preserve one's gravity when mr. gladstone derives apollo from the hebrew messiah, and athene from the logos. to accredit homer with an acquaintance with the doctrine of the logos, which did not exist until the time of philo, and did not receive its authorized christian form until the middle of the second century after christ, is certainly a strange proceeding. we shall next perhaps be invited to believe that the authors of the volsunga saga obtained the conception of sigurd from the "thirty-nine articles." it is true that these deities, athene and apollo, are wiser, purer, and more dignified, on the whole, than any of the other divinities of the homeric olympos. they alone, as mr. gladstone truly observes, are never deceived or frustrated. for all hellas, apollo was the interpreter of futurity, and in the maid athene we have perhaps the highest conception of deity to which the greek mind had attained in the early times. in the veda, athene is nothing but the dawn; but in the greek mythology, while the merely sensuous glories of daybreak are assigned to eos, athene becomes the impersonation of the illuminating and knowledge-giving light of the sky. as the dawn, she is daughter of zeus, the sky, and in mythic language springs from his forehead; but, according to the greek conception, this imagery signifies that she shares, more than any other deity, in the boundless wisdom of zeus. the knowledge of apollo, on the other hand, is the peculiar privilege of the sun, who, from his lofty position, sees everything that takes place upon the earth. even the secondary divinity helios possesses this prerogative to a certain extent. next to a hebrew, mr. gladstone prefers a phoenician ancestry for the greek divinities. but the same lack of acquaintance with the old aryan mythology vitiates all his conclusions. no doubt the greek mythology is in some particulars tinged with phoenician conceptions. aphrodite was originally a purely greek divinity, but in course of time she acquired some of the attributes of the semitic astarte, and was hardly improved by the change. adonis is simply a semitic divinity, imported into greece. but the same cannot be proved of poseidon; [ ] far less of hermes, who is identical with the vedic sarameyas, the rising wind, the son of sarama the dawn, the lying, tricksome wind-god, who invented music, and conducts the souls of dead men to the house of hades, even as his counterpart the norse odin rushes over the tree-tops leading the host of the departed. when one sees iris, the messenger of zeus, referred to a hebrew original, because of jehovah's promise to noah, one is at a loss to understand the relationship between the two conceptions. nothing could be more natural to the greeks than to call the rainbow the messenger of the sky-god to earth-dwelling men; to call it a token set in the sky by jehovah, as the hebrews did, was a very different thing. we may admit the very close resemblance between the myth of bellerophon and anteia, and that of joseph and zuleikha; but the fact that the greek story is explicable from aryan antecedents, while the hebrew story is isolated, might perhaps suggest the inference that the hebrews were the borrowers, as they undoubtedly were in the case of the myth of eden. lastly, to conclude that helios is an eastern deity, because he reigns in the east over thrinakia, is wholly unwarranted. is not helios pure greek for the sun? and where should his sacred island be placed, if not in the east? as for his oxen, which wrought such dire destruction to the comrades of odysseus, and which seem to mr. gladstone so anomalous, they are those very same unhappy cattle, the clouds, which were stolen by the storm-demon cacus and the wind-deity hermes, and which furnished endless material for legends to the poets of the veda. but the whole subject of comparative mythology seems to be terra incognita to mr. gladstone. he pursues the even tenour of his way in utter disregard of grimm, and kuhn, and breal, and dasent, and burnouf. he takes no note of the rig-veda, nor does he seem to realize that there was ever a time when the ancestors of the greeks and hindus worshipped the same gods. two or three times he cites max muller, but makes no use of the copious data which might be gathered from him. the only work which seems really to have attracted his attention is m. jacolliot's very discreditable performance called "the bible in india." mr. gladstone does not, indeed, unreservedly approve of this book; but neither does he appear to suspect that it is a disgraceful piece of charlatanry, written by a man ignorant of the very rudiments of the subject which he professes to handle. mr. gladstone is equally out of his depth when he comes to treat purely philological questions. of the science of philology, as based upon established laws of phonetic change, he seems to have no knowledge whatever. he seems to think that two words are sufficiently proved to be connected when they are seen to resemble each other in spelling or in sound. thus he quotes approvingly a derivation of the name themis from an assumed verb them, "to speak," whereas it is notoriously derived from tiqhmi, as statute comes ultimately from stare. his reference of hieros, "a priest," and geron, "an old man," to the same root, is utterly baseless; the one is the sanskrit ishiras, "a powerful man," the other is the sanskrit jaran, "an old man." the lists of words on pages - are disfigured by many such errors; and indeed the whole purpose for which they are given shows how sadly mr. gladstone's philology is in arrears. the theory of niebuhr--that the words common to greek and latin, mostly descriptive of peaceful occupations, are pelasgian--was serviceable enough in its day, but is now rendered wholly antiquated by the discovery that such words are aryan, in the widest sense. the pelasgian theory works very smoothly so long as we only compare the greek with the latin words,--as, for instance, sugon with jugum; but when we add the english yoke and the sanskrit yugam, it is evident that we have got far out of the range of the pelasgoi. but what shall we say when we find mr. gladstone citing the latin thalamus in support of this antiquated theory? doubtless the word thalamus is, or should be, significative of peaceful occupations; but it is not a latin word at all, except by adoption. one might as well cite the word ensemble to prove the original identity or kinship between english and french. when mr. gladstone, leaving the dangerous ground of pure and applied philology, confines himself to illustrating the contents of the homeric poems, he is always excellent. his chapter on the "outer geography" of the odyssey is exceedingly interesting; showing as it does how much may be obtained from the patient and attentive study of even a single author. mr. gladstone's knowledge of the surface of the iliad and odyssey, so to speak, is extensive and accurate. it is when he attempts to penetrate beneath the surface and survey the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth, that he shows himself unprovided with the talisman of the wise dervise, which alone can unlock those mysteries. but modern philology is an exacting science: to approach its higher problems requires an amount of preparation sufficient to terrify at the outset all but the boldest; and a man who has had to regulate taxation, and make out financial statements, and lead a political party in a great nation, may well be excused for ignorance of philology. it is difficult enough for those who have little else to do but to pore over treatises on phonetics, and thumb their lexicons, to keep fully abreast with the latest views in linguistics. in matters of detail one can hardly ever broach a new hypothesis without misgivings lest somebody, in some weekly journal published in germany, may just have anticipated and refuted it. yet while mr. gladstone may be excused for being unsound in philology, it is far less excusable that he should sit down to write a book about homer, abounding in philological statements, without the slightest knowledge of what has been achieved in that science for several years past. in spite of all drawbacks, however, his book shows an abiding taste for scholarly pursuits, and therefore deserves a certain kind of praise. i hope,--though just now the idea savours of the ludicrous,--that the day may some time arrive when our congressmen and secretaries of the treasury will spend their vacations in writing books about greek antiquities, or in illustrating the meaning of homeric phrases. july, . vii. the primeval ghost-world. no earnest student of human culture can as yet have forgotten or wholly outlived the feeling of delight awakened by the first perusal of max muller's brilliant "essay on comparative mythology,"--a work in which the scientific principles of myth-interpretation, though not newly announced, were at least brought home to the reader with such an amount of fresh and striking concrete illustration as they had not before received. yet it must have occurred to more than one reader that, while the analyses of myths contained in this noble essay are in the main sound in principle and correct in detail, nevertheless the author's theory of the genesis of myth is expressed, and most likely conceived, in a way that is very suggestive of carelessness and fallacy. there are obvious reasons for doubting whether the existence of mythology can be due to any "disease," abnormity, or hypertrophy of metaphor in language; and the criticism at once arises, that with the myth-makers it was not so much the character of the expression which originated the thought, as it was the thought which gave character to the expression. it is not that the early aryans were myth-makers because their language abounded in metaphor; it is that the aryan mother-tongue abounded in metaphor because the men and women who spoke it were myth-makers. and they were myth-makers because they had nothing but the phenomena of human will and effort with which to compare objective phenomena. therefore it was that they spoke of the sun as an unwearied voyager or a matchless archer, and classified inanimate no less than animate objects as masculine and feminine. max muller's way of stating his theory, both in this essay and in his later lectures, affords one among several instances of the curious manner in which he combines a marvellous penetration into the significance of details with a certain looseness of general conception. [ ] the principles of philological interpretation are an indispensable aid to us in detecting the hidden meaning of many a legend in which the powers of nature are represented in the guise of living and thinking persons; but before we can get at the secret of the myth-making tendency itself, we must leave philology and enter upon a psychological study. we must inquire into the characteristics of that primitive style of thinking to which it seemed quite natural that the sun should be an unerring archer, and the thunder-cloud a black demon or gigantic robber finding his richly merited doom at the hands of the indignant lord of light. among recent treatises which have dealt with this interesting problem, we shall find it advantageous to give especial attention to mr. tylor's "primitive culture," [ ] one of the few erudite works which are at once truly great and thoroughly entertaining. the learning displayed in it would do credit to a german specialist, both for extent and for minuteness, while the orderly arrangement of the arguments and the elegant lucidity of the style are such as we are accustomed to expect from french essay-writers. and what is still more admirable is the way in which the enthusiasm characteristic of a genial and original speculator is tempered by the patience and caution of a cool-headed critic. patience and caution are nowhere more needed than in writers who deal with mythology and with primitive religious ideas; but these qualities are too seldom found in combination with the speculative boldness which is required when fresh theories are to be framed or new paths of investigation opened. the state of mind in which the explaining powers of a favourite theory are fondly contemplated is, to some extent, antagonistic to the state of mind in which facts are seen, with the eye of impartial criticism, in all their obstinate and uncompromising reality. to be able to preserve the balance between the two opposing tendencies is to give evidence of the most consummate scientific training. it is from the want of such a balance that the recent great work of mr. cox is at times so unsatisfactory. it may, i fear, seem ill-natured to say so, but the eagerness with which mr. cox waylays every available illustration of the physical theory of the origin of myths has now and then the curious effect of weakening the reader's conviction of the soundness of the theory. for my own part, though by no means inclined to waver in adherence to a doctrine once adopted on good grounds, i never felt so much like rebelling against the mythologic supremacy of the sun and the dawn as when reading mr. cox's volumes. that mr. tylor, while defending the same fundamental theory, awakens no such rebellious feelings, is due to his clear perception and realization of the fact that it is impossible to generalize in a single formula such many-sided correspondences as those which primitive poetry end philosophy have discerned between the life of man and the life of outward nature. whoso goes roaming up and down the elf-land of popular fancies, with sole intent to resolve each episode of myth into some answering physical event, his only criterion being outward resemblance, cannot be trusted in his conclusions, since wherever he turns for evidence he is sure to find something that can be made to serve as such. as mr. tylor observes, no household legend or nursery rhyme is safe from his hermeneutics. "should he, for instance, demand as his property the nursery 'song of sixpence,' his claim would be easily established,--obviously the four-and-twenty blackbirds are the four-and-twenty hours, and the pie that holds them is the underlying earth covered with the overarching sky,--how true a touch of nature it is that when the pie is opened, that is, when day breaks, the birds begin to sing; the king is the sun, and his counting out his money is pouring out the sunshine, the golden shower of danae; the queen is the moon, and her transparent honey the moonlight; the maid is the 'rosy-fingered' dawn, who rises before the sun, her master, and hangs out the clouds, his clothes, across the sky; the particular blackbird, who so tragically ends the tale by snipping off her nose, is the hour of sunrise." in all this interpretation there is no a priori improbability, save, perhaps, in its unbroken symmetry and completeness. that some points, at least, of the story are thus derived from antique interpretations of physical events, is in harmony with all that we know concerning nursery rhymes. in short, "the time-honoured rhyme really wants but one thing to prove it a sun-myth, that one thing being a proof by some argument more valid than analogy." the character of the argument which is lacking may be illustrated by a reference to the rhyme about jack and jill, explained some time since in the paper on "the origins of folk lore." if the argument be thought valid which shows these ill-fated children to be the spots on the moon, it is because the proof consists, not in the analogy, which is in this case not especially obvious, but in the fact that in the edda, and among ignorant swedish peasants of our own day, the story of jack and jill is actually given as an explanation of the moon-spots. to the neglect of this distinction between what is plausible and what is supported by direct evidence, is due much of the crude speculation which encumbers the study of myths. it is when mr. tylor merges the study of mythology into the wider inquiry into the characteristic features of the mode of thinking in which myths originated, that we can best appreciate the practical value of that union of speculative boldness and critical sobriety which everywhere distinguishes him. it is pleasant to meet with a writer who can treat of primitive religious ideas without losing his head over allegory and symbolism, and who duly realizes the fact that a savage is not a rabbinical commentator, or a cabalist, or a rosicrucian, but a plain man who draws conclusions like ourselves, though with feeble intelligence and scanty knowledge. the mystic allegory with which such modern writers as lord bacon have invested the myths of antiquity is no part of their original clothing, but is rather the late product of a style of reasoning from analogy quite similar to that which we shall perceive to have guided the myth-makers in their primitive constructions. the myths and customs and beliefs which, in an advanced stage of culture, seem meaningless save when characterized by some quaintly wrought device of symbolic explanation, did not seem meaningless in the lower culture which gave birth to them. myths, like words, survive their primitive meanings. in the early stage the myth is part and parcel of the current mode of philosophizing; the explanation which it offers is, for the time, the natural one, the one which would most readily occur to any one thinking on the theme with which the myth is concerned. but by and by the mode of philosophizing has changed; explanations which formerly seemed quite obvious no longer occur to any one, but the myth has acquired an independent substantive existence, and continues to be handed down from parents to children as something true, though no one can tell why it is true: lastly, the myth itself gradually fades from remembrance, often leaving behind it some utterly unintelligible custom or seemingly absurd superstitious notion. for example,--to recur to an illustration already cited in a previous paper,--it is still believed here and there by some venerable granny that it is wicked to kill robins; but he who should attribute the belief to the old granny's refined sympathy with all sentient existence, would be making one of the blunders which are always committed by those who reason a priori about historical matters without following the historical method. at an earlier date the superstition existed in the shape of a belief that the killing of a robin portends some calamity; in a still earlier form the calamity is specified as death; and again, still earlier, as death by lightning. another step backward reveals that the dread sanctity of the robin is owing to the fact that he is the bird of thor, the lightning god; and finally we reach that primitive stage of philosophizing in which the lightning is explained as a red bird dropping from its beak a worm which cleaveth the rocks. again, the belief that some harm is sure to come to him who saves the life of a drowning man, is unintelligible until it is regarded as a case of survival in culture. in the older form of the superstition it is held that the rescuer will sooner or later be drowned himself; and thus we pass to the fetichistic interpretation of drowning as the seizing of the unfortunate person by the water-spirit or nixy, who is naturally angry at being deprived of his victim, and henceforth bears a special grudge against the bold mortal who has thus dared to frustrate him. the interpretation of the lightning as a red bird, and of drowning as the work of a smiling but treacherous fiend, are parts of that primitive philosophy of nature in which all forces objectively existing are conceived as identical with the force subjectively known as volition. it is this philosophy, currently known as fetichism, but treated by mr. tylor under the somewhat more comprehensive name of "animism," which we must now consider in a few of its most conspicuous exemplifications. when we have properly characterized some of the processes which the untrained mind habitually goes through, we shall have incidentally arrived at a fair solution of the genesis of mythology. let us first note the ease with which the barbaric or uncultivated mind reaches all manner of apparently fanciful conclusions through reckless reasoning from analogy. it is through the operation of certain laws of ideal association that all human thinking, that of the highest as well as that of the lowest minds, is conducted: the discovery of the law of gravitation, as well as the invention of such a superstition as the hand of glory, is at bottom but a case of association of ideas. the difference between the scientific and the mythologic inference consists solely in the number of checks which in the former case combine to prevent any other than the true conclusion from being framed into a proposition to which the mind assents. countless accumulated experiences have taught the modern that there are many associations of ideas which do not correspond to any actual connection of cause and effect in the world of phenomena; and he has learned accordingly to apply to his newly framed notions the rigid test of verification. besides which the same accumulation of experiences has built up an organized structure of ideal associations into which only the less extravagant newly framed notions have any chance of fitting. the primitive man, or the modern savage who is to some extent his counterpart, must reason without the aid of these multifarious checks. that immense mass of associations which answer to what are called physical laws, and which in the mind of the civilized modern have become almost organic, have not been formed in the mind of the savage; nor has he learned the necessity of experimentally testing any of his newly framed notions, save perhaps a few of the commonest. consequently there is nothing but superficial analogy to guide the course of his thought hither or thither, and the conclusions at which he arrives will be determined by associations of ideas occurring apparently at haphazard. hence the quaint or grotesque fancies with which european and barbaric folk-lore is filled, in the framing of which the myth-maker was but reasoning according to the best methods at his command. to this simplest class, in which the association of ideas is determined by mere analogy, belong such cases as that of the zulu, who chews a piece of wood in order to soften the heart of the man with whom he is about to trade for cows, or the hessian lad who "thinks he may escape the conscription by carrying a baby-girl's cap in his pocket,--a symbolic way of repudiating manhood." [ ] a similar style of thinking underlies the mediaeval necromancer's practice of making a waxen image of his enemy and shooting at it with arrows, in order to bring about the enemy's death; as also the case of the magic rod, mentioned in a previous paper, by means of which a sound thrashing can be administered to an absent foe through the medium of an old coat which is imagined to cover him. the principle involved here is one which is doubtless familiar to most children, and is closely akin to that which irving so amusingly illustrates in his doughty general who struts through a field of cabbages or corn-stalks, smiting them to earth with his cane, and imagining himself a hero of chivalry conquering single-handed a host of caitiff ruffians. of like origin are the fancies that the breaking of a mirror heralds a death in the family,--probably because of the destruction of the reflected human image; that the "hair of the dog that bit you" will prevent hydrophobia if laid upon the wound; or that the tears shed by human victims, sacrificed to mother earth, will bring down showers upon the land. mr. tylor cites lord chesterfield's remark, "that the king had been ill, and that people generally expected the illness to be fatal, because the oldest lion in the tower, about the king's age, had just died. 'so wild and capricious is the human mind,'" observes the elegant letter-writer. but indeed, as mr. tylor justly remarks, "the thought was neither wild nor capricious; it was simply such an argument from analogy as the educated world has at length painfully learned to be worthless, but which, it is not too much to declare, would to this day carry considerable weight to the minds of four fifths of the human race." upon such symbolism are based most of the practices of divination and the great pseudo-science of astrology. "it is an old story, that when two brothers were once taken ill together, hippokrates, the physician, concluded from the coincidence that they were twins, but poseidonios, the astrologer, considered rather that they were born under the same constellation; we may add that either argument would be thought reasonable by a savage." so when a maori fortress is attacked, the besiegers and besieged look to see if venus is near the moon. the moon represents the fortress; and if it appears below the companion planet, the besiegers will carry the day, otherwise they will be repulsed. equally primitive and childlike was rousseau's train of thought on the memorable day at les charmettes when, being distressed with doubts as to the safety of his soul, he sought to determine the point by throwing a stone at a tree. "hit, sign of salvation; miss, sign of damnation!" the tree being a large one and very near at hand, the result of the experiment was reassuring, and the young philosopher walked away without further misgivings concerning this momentous question. [ ] when the savage, whose highest intellectual efforts result only in speculations of this childlike character, is confronted with the phenomena of dreams, it is easy to see what he will make of them. his practical knowledge of psychology is too limited to admit of his distinguishing between the solidity of waking experience and what we may call the unsubstantialness of the dream. he may, indeed, have learned that the dream is not to be relied on for telling the truth; the zulu, for example, has even reached the perverse triumph of critical logic achieved by our own aryan ancestors in the saying that "dreams go by contraries." but the zulu has not learned, nor had the primeval aryan learned, to disregard the utterances of the dream as being purely subjective phenomena. to the mind as yet untouched by modern culture, the visions seen and the voices heard in sleep possess as much objective reality as the gestures and shouts of waking hours. when the savage relates his dream, he tells how he saw certain dogs, dead warriors, or demons last night, the implication being that the things seen were objects external to himself. as mr. spencer observes, "his rude language fails to state the difference between seeing and dreaming that he saw, doing and dreaming that he did. from this inadequacy of his language it not only results that he cannot truly represent this difference to others, but also that he cannot truly represent it to himself. hence in the absence of an alternative interpretation, his belief, and that of those to whom he tells his adventures, is that his other self has been away and came back when he awoke. and this belief, which we find among various existing savage tribes, we equally find in the traditions of the early civilized races." [ ] let us consider, for a moment, this assumption of the other self, for upon this is based the great mass of crude inference which constitutes the primitive man's philosophy of nature. the hypothesis of the other self, which serves to account for the savage's wanderings during sleep in strange lands and among strange people, serves also to account for the presence in his dreams of parents, comrades, or enemies, known to be dead and buried. the other self of the dreamer meets and converses with the other selves of his dead brethren, joins with them in the hunt, or sits down with them to the wild cannibal banquet. thus arises the belief in an ever-present world of souls or ghosts, a belief which the entire experience of uncivilized man goes to strengthen and expand. the existence of some tribe or tribes of savages wholly destitute of religious belief has often been hastily asserted and as often called in question. but there is no question that, while many savages are unable to frame a conception so general as that of godhood, on the other hand no tribe has ever been found so low in the scale of intelligence as not to have framed the conception of ghosts or spiritual personalities, capable of being angered, propitiated, or conjured with. indeed it is not improbable a priori that the original inference involved in the notion of the other self may be sufficiently simple and obvious to fall within the capacity of animals even less intelligent than uncivilized man. an authentic case is on record of a skye terrier who, being accustomed to obtain favours from his master by sitting on his haunches, will also sit before his pet india-rubber ball placed on the chimney-piece, evidently beseeching it to jump down and play with him. [ ] such a fact as this is quite in harmony with auguste comte's suggestion that such intelligent animals as dogs, apes, and elephants may be capable of forming a few fetichistic notions. the behaviour of the terrier here rests upon the assumption that the ball is open to the same sort of entreaty which prevails with the master; which implies, not that the wistful brute accredits the ball with a soul, but that in his mind the distinction between life and inanimate existence has never been thoroughly established. just this confusion between things living and things not living is present throughout the whole philosophy of fetichism; and the confusion between things seen and things dreamed, which suggests the notion of another self, belongs to this same twilight stage of intelligence in which primeval man has not yet clearly demonstrated his immeasurable superiority to the brutes. [ ] the conception of a soul or other self, capable of going away from the body and returning to it, receives decisive confirmation from the phenomena of fainting, trance, catalepsy, and ecstasy, [ ] which occur less rarely among savages, owing to their irregular mode of life, than among civilized men. "further verification," observes mr. spencer, "is afforded by every epileptic subject, into whose body, during the absence of the other self, some enemy has entered; for how else does it happen that the other self on returning denies all knowledge of what his body has been doing? and this supposition, that the body has been 'possessed' by some other being, is confirmed by the phenomena of somnambulism and insanity." still further, as mr. spencer points out, when we recollect that savages are very generally unwilling to have their portraits taken, lest a portion of themselves should get carried off and be exposed to foul play, [ ] we must readily admit that the weird reflection of the person and imitation of the gestures in rivers or still woodland pools will go far to intensify the belief in the other self. less frequent but uniform confirmation is to be found in echoes, which in europe within two centuries have been commonly interpreted as the voices of mocking fiends or wood-nymphs, and which the savage might well regard as the utterances of his other self. with the savage's unwillingness to have his portrait taken, lest it fall into the hands of some enemy who may injure him by conjuring with it, may be compared the reluctance which he often shows toward telling his name, or mentioning the name of his friend, or king, or tutelar ghost-deity. in fetichistic thought, the name is an entity mysteriously associated with its owner, and it is not well to run the risk of its getting into hostile hands. along with this caution goes the similarly originated fear that the person whose name is spoken may resent such meddling with his personality. for the latter reason the dayak will not allude by name to the small pox, but will call it "the chief" or "jungle-leaves"; the laplander speaks of the bear as the "old man with the fur coat"; in annam the tiger is called "grandfather" or "lord"; while in more civilized communities such sayings are current as "talk of the devil, and he will appear," with which we may also compare such expressions as "eumenides" or "gracious ones" for the furies, and other like euphemisms. indeed, the maxim nil mortuis nisi bonum had most likely at one time a fetichistic flavour. in various islands of the pacific, for both the reasons above specified, the name of the reigning chief is so rigorously "tabu," that common words and even syllables resembling that name in sound must be omitted from the language. in new zealand, where a chiefs name was maripi, or "knife," it became necessary to call knives nekra; and in tahiti, fetu, "star," had to be changed into fetia, and tui, "to strike," became tiai, etc., because the king's name was tu. curious freaks are played with the languages of these islands by this ever-recurring necessity. among the kafirs the women have come to speak a different dialect from the men, because words resembling the names of their lords or male relatives are in like manner "tabu." the student of human culture will trace among such primeval notions the origin of the jew's unwillingness to pronounce the name of jehovah; and hence we may perhaps have before us the ultimate source of the horror with which the hebraizing puritan regards such forms of light swearing--"mon dieu," etc.--as are still tolerated on the continent of europe, but have disappeared from good society in puritanic england and america. the reader interested in this group of ideas and customs may consult tylor, early history of mankind, pp. , ; max muller, science of language, th edition, vol. ii. p. ; mackay, religious development of the greeks and hebrews, vol. i. p. . chamisso's well-known tale of peter schlemihl belongs to a widely diffused family of legends, which show that a man's shadow has been generally regarded not only as an entity, but as a sort of spiritual attendant of the body, which under certain circumstances it may permanently forsake. it is in strict accordance with this idea that not only in the classic languages, but in various barbaric tongues, the word for "shadow" expresses also the soul or other self. tasmanians, algonquins, central-americans, abipones, basutos, and zulus are cited by mr. tylor as thus implicitly asserting the identity of the shadow with the ghost or phantasm seen in dreams; the basutos going so far as to think "that if a man walks on the river-bank, a crocodile may seize his shadow in the water and draw him in." among the algonquins a sick person is supposed to have his shadow or other self temporarily detached from his body, and the convalescent is at times "reproached for exposing himself before his shadow was safely settled down in him." if the sick man has been plunged into stupor, it is because his other self has travelled away as far as the brink of the river of death, but not being allowed to cross has come back and re-entered him. and acting upon a similar notion the ailing fiji will sometimes lie down and raise a hue and cry for his soul to be brought back. thus, continues mr. tylor, "in various countries the bringing back of lost souls becomes a regular part of the sorcerer's or priest's profession." [ ] on aryan soil we find the notion of a temporary departure of the soul surviving to a late date in the theory that the witch may attend the infernal sabbath while her earthly tabernacle is quietly sleeping at home. the primeval conception reappears, clothed in bitterest sarcasm, in dante's reference to his living contemporaries whose souls he met with in the vaults of hell, while their bodies were still walking about on the earth, inhabited by devils. the theory which identifies the soul with the shadow, and supposes the shadow to depart with the sickness and death of the body, would seem liable to be attended with some difficulties in the way of verification, even to the dim intelligence of the savage. but the propriety of identifying soul and breath is borne out by all primeval experience. the breath, which really quits the body at its decease, has furnished the chief name for the soul, not only to the hebrew, the sanskrit, and the classic tongues; not only to german and english, where geist, and ghost, according to max muller, have the meaning of "breath," and are akin to such words as gas, gust, and geyser; but also to numerous barbaric languages. among the natives of nicaragua and california, in java and in west australia, the soul is described as the air or breeze which passes in and out through the nostrils and mouth; and the greenlanders, according to cranz, reckon two separate souls, the breath and the shadow. "among the seminoles of florida, when a woman died in childbirth, the infant was held over her face to receive her parting spirit, and thus acquire strength and knowledge for its future use..... their state of mind is kept up to this day among tyrolese peasants, who can still fancy a good man's soul to issue from his mouth at death like a little white cloud." [ ] it is kept up, too, in lancashire, where a well-known witch died a few years since; "but before she could 'shuffle off this mortal coil' she must needs transfer her familiar spirit to some trusty successor. an intimate acquaintance from a neighbouring township was consequently sent for in all haste, and on her arrival was immediately closeted with her dying friend. what passed between them has never fully transpired, but it is confidently affirmed that at the close of the interview this associate received the witch's last breath into her mouth and with it her familiar spirit. the dreaded woman thus ceased to exist, but her powers for good or evil were transferred to her companion; and on passing along the road from burnley to blackburn we can point out a farmhouse at no great distance with whose thrifty matron no neighbouring farmer will yet dare to quarrel." [ ] of the theory of embodiment there will be occasion to speak further on. at present let us not pass over the fact that the other self is not only conceived as shadow or breath, which can at times quit the body during life, but is also supposed to become temporarily embodied in the visible form of some bird or beast. in discussing elsewhere the myth of bishop hatto, we saw that the soul is sometimes represented in the form of a rat or mouse; and in treating of werewolves we noticed the belief that the spirits of dead ancestors, borne along in the night-wind, have taken on the semblance of howling dogs or wolves. "consistent with these quaint ideas are ceremonies in vogue in china of bringing home in a cock (live or artificial) the spirit of a man deceased in a distant place, and of enticing into a sick man's coat the departing spirit which has already left his body and so conveying it back." [ ] in castren's great work on finnish mythology, we find the story of the giant who could not be killed because he kept his soul hidden in a twelve-headed snake which he carried in a bag as he rode on horseback; only when the secret was discovered and the snake carefully killed, did the giant yield up his life. in this finnish legend we have one of the thousand phases of the story of the "giant who had no heart in his body," but whose heart was concealed, for safe keeping, in a duck's egg, or in a pigeon, carefully disposed in some belfry at the world's end a million miles away, or encased in a wellnigh infinite series of chinese boxes. [ ] since, in spite of all these precautions, the poor giant's heart invariably came to grief, we need not wonder at the karen superstition that the soul is in danger when it quits the body on its excursions, as exemplified in countless indo-european stories of the accidental killing of the weird mouse or pigeon which embodies the wandering spirit. conversely it is held that the detachment of the other self is fraught with danger to the self which remains. in the philosophy of "wraiths" and "fetches," the appearance of a double, like that which troubled mistress affery in her waking dreams of mr. flintwinch, has been from time out of mind a signal of alarm. "in new zealand it is ominous to see the figure of an absent person, for if it be shadowy and the face not visible, his death may erelong be expected, but if the face be seen he is dead already. a party of maoris (one of whom told the story) were seated round a fire in the open air, when there appeared, seen only by two of them, the figure of a relative, left ill at home; they exclaimed, the figure vanished, and on the return of the party it appeared that the sick man had died about the time of the vision." [ ] the belief in wraiths has survived into modern times, and now and then appears in the records of that remnant of primeval philosophy known as "spiritualism," as, for example, in the case of the lady who "thought she saw her own father look in at the church-window at the moment he was dying in his own house." the belief in the "death-fetch," like the doctrine which identifies soul with shadow, is instructive as showing that in barbaric thought the other self is supposed to resemble the material self with which it has customarily been associated. in various savage superstitions the minute resemblance of soul to body is forcibly stated. the australian, for instance, not content with slaying his enemy, cuts off the right thumb of the corpse, so that the departed soul may be incapacitated from throwing a spear. even the half-civilized chinese prefer crucifixion to decapitation, that their souls may not wander headless about the spirit-world. [ ] thus we see how far removed from the christian doctrine of souls is the primeval theory of the soul or other self that figures in dreamland. so grossly materialistic is the primitive conception that the savage who cherishes it will bore holes in the coffin of his dead friend, so that the soul may again have a chance, if it likes, to revisit the body. to this day, among the peasants in some parts of northern europe, when odin, the spectral hunter, rides by attended by his furious host, the windows in every sick-room are opened, in order that the soul, if it chooses to depart, may not be hindered from joining in the headlong chase. and so, adds mr. tylor, after the indians of north america had spent a riotous night in singeing an unfortunate captive to death with firebrands, they would howl like the fiends they were, and beat the air with brushwood, to drive away the distressed and revengeful ghost. "with a kindlier feeling, the congo negroes abstained for a whole year after a death from sweeping the house, lest the dust should injure the delicate substance of the ghost"; and even now, "it remains a german peasant saying that it is wrong to slam a door, lest one should pinch a soul in it." [ ] dante's experience with the ghosts in hell and purgatory, who were astonished at his weighing down the boat in which they were carried, is belied by the sweet german notion "that the dead mother's coming back in the night to suckle the baby she has left on earth may be known by the hollow pressed down in the bed where she lay." almost universally ghosts, however impervious to thrust of sword or shot of pistol, can eat and drink like squire westerns. and lastly, we have the grotesque conception of souls sufficiently material to be killed over again, as in the case of the negro widows who, wishing to marry a second time, will go and duck themselves in the pond, in order to drown the souls of their departed husbands, which are supposed to cling about their necks; while, according to the fiji theory, the ghost of every dead warrior must go through a terrible fight with samu and his brethren, in which, if he succeeds, he will enter paradise, but if he fails he will be killed over again and finally eaten by the dreaded samu and his unearthly company. from the conception of souls embodied in beast-forms, as above illustrated, it is not a wide step to the conception of beast-souls which, like human souls, survive the death of the tangible body. the wide-spread superstitions concerning werewolves and swan-maidens, and the hardly less general belief in metempsychosis, show that primitive culture has not arrived at the distinction attained by modern philosophy between the immortal man and the soulless brute. still more direct evidence is furnished by sundry savage customs. the kafir who has killed an elephant will cry that he did n't mean to do it, and, lest the elephant's soul should still seek vengeance, he will cut off and bury the trunk, so that the mighty beast may go crippled to the spirit-land. in like manner, the samoyeds, after shooting a bear, will gather about the body offering excuses and laying the blame on the russians; and the american redskin will even put the pipe of peace into the dead animal's mouth, and beseech him to forgive the deed. in assam it is believed that the ghosts of slain animals will become in the next world the property of the hunter who kills them; and the kamtchadales expressly declare that all animals, even flies and bugs, will live after death,--a belief, which, in our own day, has been indorsed on philosophical grounds by an eminent living naturalist. [ ] the greenlanders, too, give evidence of the same belief by supposing that when after an exhausting fever the patient comes up in unprecedented health and vigour, it is because he has lost his former soul and had it replaced by that of a young child or a reindeer. in a recent work in which the crudest fancies of primeval savagery are thinly disguised in a jargon learned from the superficial reading of modern books of science, m. figuier maintains that human souls are for the most part the surviving souls of deceased animals; in general, the souls of precocious musical children like mozart come from nightingales, while the souls of great architects have passed into them from beavers, etc., etc. [ ] the practice of begging pardon of the animal one has just slain is in some parts of the world extended to the case of plants. when the talein offers a prayer to the tree which he is about to cut down, it is obviously because he regards the tree as endowed with a soul or ghost which in the next life may need to be propitiated. and the doctrine of transmigration distinctly includes plants along with animals among the future existences into which the human soul may pass. as plants, like animals, manifest phenomena of life, though to a much less conspicuous degree, it is not incomprehensible that the savage should attribute souls to them. but the primitive process of anthropomorphisation does not end here. not only the horse and dog, the bamboo, and the oak-tree, but even lifeless objects, such as the hatchet, or bow and arrows, or food and drink of the dead man, possess other selves which pass into the world of ghosts. fijis and other contemporary savages, when questioned, expressly declare that this is their belief. "if an axe or a chisel is worn out or broken up, away flies its soul for the service of the gods." the algonquins told charlevoix that since hatchets and kettles have shadows, no less than men and women, it follows, of course, that these shadows (or souls) must pass along with human shadows (or souls) into the spirit-land. in this we see how simple and consistent is the logic which guides the savage, and how inevitable is the genesis of the great mass of beliefs, to our minds so arbitrary and grotesque, which prevail throughout the barbaric world. however absurd the belief that pots and kettles have souls may seem to us, it is nevertheless the only belief which can be held consistently by the savage to whom pots and kettles, no less than human friends or enemies, may appear in his dreams; who sees them followed by shadows as they are moved about; who hears their voices, dull or ringing, when they are struck; and who watches their doubles fantastically dancing in the water as they are carried across the stream. [ ] to minds, even in civilized countries, which are unused to the severe training of science, no stronger evidence can be alleged than what is called "the evidence of the senses"; for it is only long familiarity with science which teaches us that the evidence of the senses is trustworthy only in so far as it is correctly interpreted by reason. for the truth of his belief in the ghosts of men and beasts, trees and axes, the savage has undeniably the evidence of his senses which have so often seen, heard, and handled these other selves. the funeral ceremonies of uncultured races freshly illustrate this crude philosophy, and receive fresh illustration from it. on the primitive belief in the ghostly survival of persons and objects rests the almost universal custom of sacrificing the wives, servants, horses, and dogs of the departed chief of the tribe, as well as of presenting at his shrine sacred offerings of food, ornaments, weapons, and money. among the kayans the slaves who are killed at their master's tomb are enjoined to take great care of their master's ghost, to wash and shampoo it, and to nurse it when sick. other savages think that "all whom they kill in this world shall attend them as slaves after death," and for this reason the thrifty dayaks of borneo until lately would not allow their young men to marry until they had acquired some post mortem property by procuring at least one human head. it is hardly necessary to do more than allude to the fiji custom of strangling all the wives of the deceased at his funeral, or to the equally well-known hindu rite of suttee. though, as wilson has shown, the latter rite is not supported by any genuine vedic authority, but only by a shameless brahmanic corruption of the sacred text, mr. tylor is nevertheless quite right in arguing that unless the horrible custom had received the sanction of a public opinion bequeathed from pre-vedic times, the brahmans would have had no motive for fraudulently reviving it; and this opinion is virtually established by the fact of the prevalence of widow sacrifice among gauls, scandinavians, slaves, and other european aryans. [ ] though under english rule the rite has been forcibly suppressed, yet the archaic sentiments which so long maintained it are not yet extinct. within the present year there has appeared in the newspapers a not improbable story of a beautiful and accomplished hindu lady who, having become the wife of a wealthy englishman, and after living several years in england amid the influences of modern society, nevertheless went off and privately burned herself to death soon after her husband's decease. the reader who thinks it far-fetched to interpret funeral offerings of food, weapons, ornaments, or money, on the theory of object-souls, will probably suggest that such offerings may be mere memorials of affection or esteem for the dead man. such, indeed, they have come to be in many countries after surviving the phase of culture in which they originated; but there is ample evidence to show that at the outset they were presented in the belief that their ghosts would be eaten or otherwise employed by the ghost of the dead man. the stout club which is buried with the dead fiji sends its soul along with him that he may be able to defend himself against the hostile ghosts which will lie in ambush for him on the road to mbulu, seeking to kill and eat him. sometimes the club is afterwards removed from the grave as of no further use, since its ghost is all that the dead man needs. in like manner, "as the greeks gave the dead man the obolus for charon's toll, and the old prussians furnished him with spending money, to buy refreshment on his weary journey, so to this day german peasants bury a corpse with money in his mouth or hand," and this is also said to be one of the regular ceremonies of an irish wake. of similar purport were the funeral feasts and oblations of food in greece and italy, the "rice-cakes made with ghee" destined for the hindu sojourning in yama's kingdom, and the meat and gruel offered by the chinaman to the manes of his ancestors. "many travellers have described the imagination with which the chinese make such offerings. it is that the spirits of the dead consume the impalpable essence of the food, leaving behind its coarse material substance, wherefore the dutiful sacrificers, having set out sumptuous feasts for ancestral souls, allow them a proper time to satisfy their appetite, and then fall to themselves." [ ] so in the homeric sacrifice to the gods, after the deity has smelled the sweet savour and consumed the curling steam that rises ghost-like from the roasting viands, "the assembled warriors devour the remains." [ ] thus far the course of fetichistic thought which we have traced out, with mr. tylor's aid, is such as is not always obvious to the modern inquirer without considerable concrete illustration. the remainder of the process, resulting in that systematic and complete anthropomorphisation of nature which has given rise to mythology, may be more succinctly described. gathering together the conclusions already obtained, we find that daily or frequent experience of the phenomena of shadows and dreams has combined with less frequent experience of the phenomena of trance, ecstasy, and insanity, to generate in the mind of uncultured man the notion of a twofold existence appertaining alike to all animate or inanimate objects: as all alike possess material bodies, so all alike possess ghosts or souls. now when the theory of object-souls is expanded into a general doctrine of spirits, the philosophic scheme of animism is completed. once habituated to the conception of souls of knives and tobacco-pipes passing to the land of ghosts, the savage cannot avoid carrying the interpretation still further, so that wind and water, fire and storm, are accredited with indwelling spirits akin by nature to the soul which inhabits the human frame. that the mighty spirit or demon by whose impelling will the trees are rooted up and the storm-clouds driven across the sky should resemble a freed human soul, is a natural inference, since uncultured man has not attained to the conception of physical force acting in accordance with uniform methods, and hence all events are to his mind the manifestations of capricious volition. if the fire burns down his hut, it is because the fire is a person with a soul, and is angry with him, and needs to be coaxed into a kindlier mood by means of prayer or sacrifice. thus the savage has a priori no alternative but to regard fire-soul as something akin to human-soul; and in point of fact we find that savage philosophy makes no distinction between the human ghost and the elemental demon or deity. this is sufficiently proved by the universal prevalence of the worship of ancestors. the essential principle of manes-worship is that the tribal chief or patriarch, who has governed the community during life, continues also to govern it after death, assisting it in its warfare with hostile tribes, rewarding brave warriors, and punishing traitors and cowards. thus from the conception of the living king we pass to the notion of what mr. spencer calls "the god-king," and thence to the rudimentary notion of deity. among such higher savages as the zulus, the doctrine of divine ancestors has been developed to the extent of recognizing a first ancestor, the great father, unkulunkulu, who made the world. but in the stratum of savage thought in which barbaric or aryan folk-lore is for the most part based, we find no such exalted speculation. the ancestors of the rude veddas and of the guinea negroes, the hindu pitris (patres, "fathers"), and the roman manes have become elemental deities which send rain or sunshine, health or sickness, plenty or famine, and to which their living offspring appeal for guidance amid the vicissitudes of life. [ ] the theory of embodiment, already alluded to, shows how thoroughly the demons which cause disease are identified with human and object souls. in australasia it is a dead man's ghost which creeps up into the liver of the impious wretch who has ventured to pronounce his name; while conversely in the well-known european theory of demoniacal possession, it is a fairy from elf-land, or an imp from hell, which has entered the body of the sufferer. in the close kinship, moreover, between disease-possession and oracle-possession, where the body of the pythia, or the medicine-man, is placed under the direct control of some great deity, [ ] we may see how by insensible transitions the conception of the human ghost passes into the conception of the spiritual numen, or divinity. to pursue this line of inquiry through the countless nymphs and dryads and nixies of the higher nature-worship up to the olympian divinities of classic polytheism, would be to enter upon the history of religious belief, and in so doing to lose sight of our present purpose, which has merely been to show by what mental process the myth-maker can speak of natural objects in language which implies that they are animated persons. brief as our account of this process has been, i believe that enough has been said, not only to reveal the inadequacy of purely philological solutions (like those contained in max muller's famous essay) to explain the growth of myths, but also to exhibit the vast importance for this purpose of the kind of psychological inquiry into the mental habits of savages which mr. tylor has so ably conducted. indeed, however lacking we may still be in points of detail, i think we have already reached a very satisfactory explanation of the genesis of mythology. since the essential characteristic of a myth is that it is an attempt to explain some natural phenomenon by endowing with human feelings and capacities the senseless factors in the phenomenon, and since it has here been shown how uncultured man, by the best use he can make of his rude common sense, must inevitably come, and has invariably come, to regard all objects as endowed with souls, and all nature as peopled with supra-human entities shaped after the general pattern of the human soul, i am inclined to suspect that we have got very near to the root of the whole matter. we can certainly find no difficulty in seeing why a water-spout should be described in the "arabian nights" as a living demon: "the sea became troubled before them, and there arose from it a black pillar, ascending towards the sky, and approaching the meadow,.... and behold it was a jinni, of gigantic stature." we can see why the moslem camel-driver should find it most natural to regard the whirling simoom as a malignant jinni; we may understand how it is that the persian sees in bodily shape the scarlet fever as "a blushing maid with locks of flame and cheeks all rosy red"; and we need not consider it strange that the primeval aryan should have regarded the sun as a voyager, a climber, or an archer, and the clouds as cows driven by the wind-god hermes to their milking. the identification of william tell with the sun becomes thoroughly intelligible; nor can we be longer surprised at the conception of the howling night-wind as a ravenous wolf. when pots and kettles are thought to have souls that live hereafter, there is no difficulty in understanding how the blue sky can have been regarded as the sire of gods and men. and thus, as the elves and bogarts of popular lore are in many cases descended from ancient divinities of olympos and valhalla, so these in turn must acknowledge their ancestors in the shadowy denizens of the primeval ghost-world. august, . note. the following are some of the modern works most likely to be of use to the reader who is interested in the legend of william tell. hisely, j. j. dissertatio historiea inauguralis de oulielmo tellio, etc. groningae, . ideler, j. l. die sage von dem schuss des tell. berlin, . hausser, l. die sage von tell aufs neue kritisch untersucht. heidelberg, . hisely, j. j. recherches critiques sur l'histoire de guillaume tell. lausanne, . liebenau, h. die tell-sage zu dem jahre historisoh nach neuesten quellen. aarau, . vischer, w. die sage von der befreinng der waldstatte, etc. nebst einer beilage: das alteste tellensehauspiel. leipzig, . bordier, h. l. le grutli et guillaume tell, ou defense de la tradition vulgaire sur les origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . the same. la querelle sur les traditions concernant l'origine de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . rilliet, a. les origines de la confederation suisse: histoire et legende. es ed., revue et corrigee. geneve et bale, . the same. lettre a m. henri bordier a propos de sa defense de la tradition vulgaire sur les origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . hungerbuhler, h. etude critique sur les traditions relatives aux origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . meyer, karl. die tellsage. [in bartsch, germanistische studien, i. - . wien, .] see also the articles by m. scherer, in le temps, feb., ; by m. reuss, in the revue critique d'histoire, ; by m. de wiss, in the journal de geneve, july, ; also revue critique, july, ; journal de geneve, oct., ; gazette de lausanne, feuilleton litteraire, - nov., , "les origines de la confederation suisse," par m. secretan; edinburgh review, jan., , "the legend of tell and rutli." footnotes: [footnote : see delepierre, historical difficulties, p. .] [footnote : saxo grammaticus, bk. x. p. , ed. frankf. .] [footnote : according to mr. isaac taylor, the name is really derived from "st. celert, a welsh saint of the fifth century, to whom the church of llangeller is consecrated." (words and places, p. .)] [footnote : compare krilof's story of the gnat and the shepherd, in mr. ralston's excellent version, krilof and his fables, p. . many parallel examples are cited by mr. baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. pp. - . see also the story of folliculus,--swan, gesta romanorum, ad. wright, vol. i. p. lxxxii] [footnote : see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. i. pp. - .] [footnote : the same incident occurs in the arabian story of seyf-el-mulook and bedeea-el-jemal, where the jinni's soul is enclosed in the crop of a sparrow, and the sparrow imprisoned in a small box, and this enclosed in another small box, and this again in seven other boxes, which are put into seven chests, contained in a coffer of marble, which is sunk in the ocean that surrounds the world. seyf-el-mulook raises the coffer by the aid of suleyman's seal-ring, and having extricated the sparrow, strangles it, whereupon the jinni's body is converted into a heap of black ashes, and seyf-el-mulook escapes with the maiden dolet-khatoon. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii. p. .] [footnote : the same incident is repeated in the story of hassan of el-basrah. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii p. .] [footnote : "retrancher le merveilleux d'un mythe, c'est le supprimer."--breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : "no distinction between the animate and inanimate is made in the languages of the eskimos, the choctaws, the muskoghee, and the caddo. only the iroquois, cherokee, and the algonquin-lenape have it, so far as is known, and with them it is partial." according to the fijians, "vegetables and stones, nay, even tools and weapons, pots and canoes, have souls that are immortal, and that, like the souls of men, pass on at last to mbulu, the abode of departed spirits."--m'lennan, the worship of animals and plants, fortnightly review, vol. xii. p, .] [footnote : marcus aurelius, v. .] [footnote : some of these etymologies are attacked by mr. mahaffy in his prolegomena to ancient history, p. . after long consideration i am still disposed to follow max muller in adopting them, with the possible exception of achilleus. with mr. mahaffy s suggestion (p. ) that many of the homeric legends may have clustered around some historical basis, i fully agree; as will appear, further on, from my paper on "juventus mundi."] [footnote : les facultes qui engendrent la mythologie sont les memes que celles qui engendront la philosophie, et ce n'est pas sans raison que l'inde et la grece nous presentent le phenomene de la plus riche mythologie a cote de la plus profonde metaphysique. "la conception de la multiplicite dans l'univers, c'est le polytheisme chez les peuples enfants; c'est la science chez les peuples arrives a l'age mur."--renan, hist. des langues semitiques, tom. i. p. .] [footnote : cases coming under this head are discussed further on, in my paper on "myths of the barbaric world."] [footnote : a collection of these interesting legends may be found in baring-gould's "curious myths of the middle ages," of which work this paper was originally a review.] [footnote : see procopius, de bello gothico, iv. ; villemarque, barzas breiz, i. . as a child i was instructed by an old nurse that vas diemen's land is the home of ghosts and departed spirits.] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : hence perhaps the adage, "always remember to pay the piper."] [footnote : and it reappears as the mysterious lyre of the gaelic musician, who "could harp a fish out o' the water, or bluid out of a stane, or milk out of a maiden's breast, that bairns had never nane."] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : perhaps we may trace back to this source the frantic terror which irish servant-girls often manifest at sight of a mouse.] [footnote : in persia a dog is brought to the bedside of the person who is dying, in order that the soul may be sure of a prompt escort. the same custom exists in india. breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : the devil, who is proverbially "active in a gale of wind," is none other than hermes.] [footnote : "il faut que la coeur devienne ancien parmi les aneiennes choses, et la plenitude de l'histoire ne se devoile qu'a celui qui descend, ainsi dispose, dans le passe. mais il faut que l'esprit demeure moderne, et n'oublie jamais qu'il n'y a pour lui d'autre foi que la foi scientifique."--littrs.] [footnote : for an admirable example of scientific self-analysis tracing one of these illusions to its psychological sources, see the account of dr. lazarus, in taine, de l'intelligence, vol. i. pp. - .] [footnote : see the story of aymar in baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. pp. - . the learned author attributes the discomfiture to the uncongenial parisian environment; which is a style of reasoning much like that of my village sorcerer, i fear.] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : the story of the luck-flower is well told in verse by mr. baring gould, in his silver store, p. , seq.] [footnote : kings vi. .] [footnote : compare the mussulman account of the building of the temple, in baring-gould, legends of the patriarchs and prophets, pp. , . and see the story of diocletian's ostrich, swan, gesta romanorum, ed. wright, vol i. p. lxiv. see also the pretty story of the knight unjustly imprisoned, id. p. cii.] [footnote : "we have the receipt of fern-seed. we walk invisible." --shakespeare, henry iv. see ralston, songs of the russian people, p. ] [footnote : henderson, folk-lore of the northern counties of england, p. ] [footnote : kuhn, die herabkunft des feuers und des gottertranks. berlin, .] [footnote : "saga me forwhan byth seo sunne read on aefen? ic the secge, forthon heo locath on helle.--tell me, why is the sun red at even? i tell thee, because she looketh on hell." thorpe, analecta anglo-saxonica, p. , apud tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. . barbaric thought had partly anticipated my childish theory.] [footnote : "still in north germany does the peasant say of thunder, that the angels are playing skittles aloft, and of the snow, that they are shaking up the feather beds in heaven."--baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. .] [footnote : "the polynesians imagine that the sky descends at the horizon and encloses the earth. hence they call foreigners papalangi, or 'heaven-bursters,' as having broken in from another world outside."--max muller, chips, ii. .] [footnote : "--and said the gods, let there be a hammered plate in the midst of the waters, and let it be dividing between waters and waters." genesis i. .] [footnote : genesis vii. .] [footnote : see kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p ; who states also that in bengal the garrows burn their dead in a small boat, placed on top of the funeral-pile. in their character of cows, also, the clouds were regarded as psychopomps; and hence it is still a popular superstition that a cow breaking into the yard foretokens a death in the family.] [footnote : the sun-god freyr had a cloud-ship called skithblathnir, which is thus described in dasent's prose edda: "she is so great, that all the aesir, with their weapons and war-gear, may find room on board her"; but "when there is no need of faring on the sea in her, she is made.... with so much craft that freyr may fold her together like a cloth, and keep her in his bag." this same virtue was possessed by the fairy pavilion which the peri banou gave to ahmed; the cloud which is no bigger than a man's hand may soon overspread the whole heaven, and shade the sultan's army from the solar rays.] [footnote : euhemerism has done its best with this bird, representing it as an immense vulture or condor or as a reminiscence of the extinct dodo. but a chinese myth, cited by klaproth, well preserves its true character when it describes it as "a bird which in flying obscures the sun, and of whose quills are made water-tuns." see nouveau journal asiatique, tom. xii. p. . the big bird in the norse tale of the "blue belt" belongs to the same species.] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. ii. p. . compare tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. , seq.] [footnote : "if polyphemos's eye be the sun, then odysseus, the solar hero, extinguishes himself, a very primitive instance of suicide." mahaffy, prolegomena, p. . see also brown, poseidon, pp. , . this objection would be relevant only in case homer were supposed to be constructing an allegory with entire knowledge of its meaning. it has no validity whatever when we recollect that homer could have known nothing of the incongruity.] [footnote : the sanskrit myth-teller indeed mixes up his materials in a way which seems ludicrous to a western reader. he describes indra (the sun-god) as not only cleaving the cloud-mountains with his sword, but also cutting off their wings and hurling them from the sky. see burnouf, bhagavata purana, vi. , .] [footnote : mr. tylor offers a different, and possibly a better, explanation of the symplegades as the gates of night through which the solar ship, having passed successfully once, may henceforth pass forever. see the details of the evidence in his primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : the sanskrit parvata, a bulging or inflated body, means both "cloud" and "mountain." "in the edda, too, the rocks, said to have been fashioned out of ymir's bones, are supposed to be intended for clouds. in old norse klakkr means both cloud and rock; nay, the english word cloud itself has been identified with the anglo-saxon clud, rock. see justi, orient und occident, vol. ii. p. ." max muller, rig-veda, vol. . p. .] [footnote : in accordance with the mediaeval "doctrine of signatures," it was maintained "that the hard, stony seeds of the gromwell must be good for gravel, and the knotty tubers of scrophularia for scrofulous glands; while the scaly pappus of scaliosa showed it to be a specific in leprous diseases, the spotted leaves of pulmonaria that it was a sovereign remedy for tuberculous lungs, and the growth of saxifrage in the fissures of rocks that it would disintegrate stone in the bladder." prior, popular names of british plants, introd., p. xiv. see also chapiel, la doctrine des signatures. paris, .] [footnote : indeed, the wish-bone, or forked clavicle of a fowl, itself belongs to the same family of talismans as the divining-rod.] [footnote : the ash, on the other hand, has been from time immemorial used for spears in many parts of the aryan domain. the word oesc meant, in anglo-saxon, indifferently "ash-tree," or "spear"; and the same is, or has been, true of the french fresne and the greek melia. the root of oesc appears in the sanskrit as, "to throw" or "lance," whence asa, "a bow," and asana, "an arrow." see pictet, origines indo-europeennes, i. .] [footnote : compare spenser's story of sir guyon, in the "faery queen," where, however, the knight fares better than this poor priest. usually these lightning-caverns were like ixion's treasure-house, into which none might look and live. this conception is the foundation of part of the story of blue-beard and of the arabian tale of the third one-eyed calender] [footnote : cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. . p. .] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, pp. , , , .] [footnote : brinton, myths of the new world, p. .] [footnote : callaway, zulu nursery tales, i. , note .] [footnote : tylor, early history of mankind, p. ; primitive culture, vol. ii. p. ; darwin, naturalist's voyage, p. .] [footnote : the production of fire by the drill is often called churning, e. g. "he took the uvati [chark], and sat down and churned it, and kindled a fire." callaway, zulu nursery tales, i. .] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p. . burnouf, bhagavata purana, viii. , .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, p. .] [footnote : it is also the regenerating water of baptism, and the "holy water" of the roman catholic.] [footnote : in the vedas the rain-god soma, originally the personification of the sacrificial ambrosia, is the deity who imparts to men life, knowledge, and happiness. see breal, hercule et cacus, p. . tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : we may, perhaps, see here the reason for making the greek fire-god hephaistos the husband of aphrodite.] [footnote : "our country maidens are well aware that triple leaves plucked at hazard from the common ash are worn in the breast, for the purpose of causing prophetic dreams respecting a dilatory lover. the leaves of the yellow trefoil are supposed to possess similar virtues."--harland and wilkinson, lancashire folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : in peru, a mighty and far-worshipped deity was catequil, the thunder-god,.... "he who in thunder-flash and clap hurls from his sling the small, round, smooth thunder-stones, treasured in the villages as fire-fetishes and charms to kindle the flames of love."--tylor, op. cit. vol. ii. p. ] [footnote : in polynesia, "the great deity maui adds a new complication to his enigmatic solar-celestial character by appearing as a wind-god."--tylor, op. cit. vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : compare plato, republic, viii. .] [footnote : were-wolf = man-wolf, wer meaning "man." garou is a gallic corruption of werewolf, so that loup-garou is a tautological expression.] [footnote : meyer, in bunsen's philosophy of universal history, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : aimoin, de gestis francorum, ii. .] [footnote : taylor, words and places, p. .] [footnote : very similar to this is the etymological confusion upon which is based the myth of the "confusion of tongues" in the eleventh chapter of genesis. the name "babel" is really bab-il, or "the gate of god"; but the hebrew writer erroneously derives the word from the root balal, "to confuse"; and hence arises the mythical explanation,--that babel was a place where human speech became confused. see rawlinson, in smith's dictionary of the bible, vol. i. p. ; renan, histoire des langues semitiques, vol. i. p. ; donaldson, new cratylus, p. , note; colenso on the pentateuch, vol. iv. p. .] [footnote : vilg. aen. viii. . with latium compare plat?s, skr. prath (to spread out), eng. flat. ferrar, comparative grammar of greek, latin, and sanskrit, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : m`lennan, "the worship of animals and plants," fortnightly review, n. s. vol. vi. pp. - , - , vol. vii. pp - ; spencer, "the origin of animal worship," id. vol. vii. pp. - , reprinted in his recent discussions in science, etc., pp. - .] [footnote : thus is explained the singular conduct of the hindu, who slays himself before his enemy's door, in order to acquire greater power of injuring him. "a certain brahman, on whose lands a kshatriya raja had built a house, ripped himself up in revenge, and became a demon of the kind called brahmadasyu, who has been ever since the terror of the whole country, and is the most common village-deity in kharakpur. toward the close of the last century there were two brahmans, out of whose house a man had wrongfully, as they thought, taken forty rupees; whereupon one of the brahmans proceeded to cut off his own mother's head, with the professed view, entertained by both mother and son, that her spirit, excited by the beating of a large drum during forty days might haunt, torment, and pursue to death the taker of their money and those concerned with him." tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : hence, in many parts of europe, it is still customary to open the windows when a person dies, in order that the soul may not be hindered in joining the mystic cavalcade.] [footnote : the story of little red riding-hood is "mutilated in the english version, but known more perfectly by old wives in germany, who can tell that the lovely little maid in her shining red satin cloak was swallowed with her grandmother by the wolf, till they both came out safe and sound when the hunter cut open the sleeping beast." tylor, primitive culture, i. , where also see the kindred russian story of vasilissa the beautiful. compare the case of tom thumb, who "was swallowed by the cow and came out unhurt"; the story of saktideva swallowed by the fish and cut out again, in somadeva bhatta, ii. - ; and the story of jonah swallowed by the whale, in the old testament. all these are different versions of the same myth, and refer to the alternate swallowing up and casting forth of day by night, which is commonly personified as a wolf, and now and then as a great fish. compare grimm's story of the wolf and seven kids, tylor, loc. cit., and see early history of mankind, p. ; hardy, manual of budhism, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. ; muir, sanskrit texts, ii. .] [footnote : in those days even an after-dinner nap seems to have been thought uncanny. see dasent, burnt njal, i. xxi.] [footnote : see dasent, burnt njai, vol. i. p. xxii.; grettis saga, by magnusson and morris, chap. xix.; viga glum's saga, by sir edmund head, p. , note, where the berserkers are said to have maddened themselves with drugs. dasent compares them with the malays, who work themselves into a frenzy by means of arrack, or hasheesh, and run amuck.] [footnote : baring-gould, werewolves, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, op. cit. chap. xiv.] [footnote : baring-gould, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : "en , a padoue, dit wier, un homme qui se croyait change en loup courait la campagne, attaquant et mettant a mort ceux qu'il rencontrait. apres bien des difficultes, on parvint s'emparer de lui. il dit en confidence a ceux qui l'arreterent: je suis vraiment un loup, et si ma peau ne parait pas etre celle d'un loup, c'est parce qu'elle est retournee et que les poils sont en dedans.--pour s'assurer du fait, on coupa le malheureux aux differentes parties du corps, on lui emporta les bras et les jambes."--taine, de l'intelligence, tom. ii. p. . see the account of slavonic werewolves in ralston, songs of the russian people, pp. - .] [footnote : mr. cox, whose scepticism on obscure points in history rather surpasses that of sir g. c. lewis, dismisses with a sneer the subject of the berserker madness, observing that "the unanimous testimony of the norse historians is worth as much and as little as the convictions of glanvil and hale on the reality of witchcraft." i have not the special knowledge requisite for pronouncing an opinion on this point, but mr. cox's ordinary methods of disposing of such questions are not such as to make one feel obliged to accept his bare assertion, unaccompanied by critical arguments. the madness of the bearsarks may, no doubt, be the same thing us the frenzy of herakles; but something more than mere dogmatism is needed to prove it.] [footnote : williams, superstitions of witchcraft, p. . see a parallel case of a cat-woman, in thorpe's northern mythology, ii. . "certain witches at thurso for a long time tormented an honest fellow under the usual form of cats, till one night he put them to flight with his broadsword, and cut off the leg of one less nimble than the rest; taking it up, to his amazement he found it to be a woman's leg, and next morning he discovered the old hag its owner with but one leg left."--tylor, primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : "the mare in nightmare means spirit, elf, or nymph; compare anglo-saxon wudurmaere (wood-mare) = echo."--tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : see kuhn, herabkunft des feuers, p. ; weber, indische studien. i. ; wolf, beitrage zur deutschen mythologie, ii. - muller, chips, ii. - .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, ii. .] [footnote : the word nymph itself means "cloud-maiden," as is illustrated by the kinship between the greek numph and the latin nubes.] [footnote : this is substantially identical with the stories of beauty and the beast, eros and psyche, gandharba sena, etc.] [footnote : the feather-dress reappears in the arabian story of hasssn of el-basrah, who by stealing it secures possession of the jinniya. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii. p. . ralston, songs of the russian people, p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, iii. ; kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. .] [footnote : muir's sanskrit texts, vol. iv. p. ; muller, rig-veda sanhita, vol. i. pp. - ; fick, woerterbuch der indogermanischen grundsprache, p. , s v. bhaga.] [footnote : in the north american review, october, , p. , i have collected a number of facts which seem to me to prove beyond question that the name god is derived from guodan, the original form of odin, the supreme deity of our pagan forefathers. the case is exactly parallel to that of the french dieu, which is descended from the deus of the pagan roman.] [footnote : see pott, die zigeuner, ii. ; kuhn, beitrage, i. . yet in the worship of dewel by the gypsies is to be found the element of diabolism invariably present in barbaric worship. "dewel, the great god in heaven (dewa, deus), is rather feared than loved by these weather-beaten outcasts, for he harms them on their wanderings with his thunder and lightning, his snow and rain, and his stars interfere with their dark doings. therefore they curse him foully when misfortune falls on them; and when a child dies, they say that dewel has eaten it." tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : see grimm, deutsche mythologie, .] [footnote : the buddhistic as well as the zarathustrian reformation degraded the vedic gods into demons. "in buddhism we find these ancient devas, indra and the rest, carried about at shows, as servants of buddha, as goblins, or fabulous heroes." max muller, chips, i. . this is like the christian change of odin into an ogre, and of thor into the devil.] [footnote : zeus--dia--zhna--di on............ plato kratylos, p. , a., with stallbaum's note. see also proklos, comm. ad timaeum, ii. p. , schneider; and compare pseudo-aristotle, de mundo, p. , a, , who adopts the etymology. see also diogenes laertius, vii. .] [footnote : marcus aurelius, v. ; hom. iliad, xii. , cf. petronius arbiter, sat. xliv.] [footnote : "il sol, dell aurea luce eterno forte." tasso, gerusalemme, xv. ; ef. dante, paradiso, x. .] [footnote : the aryans were, however, doubtless better off than the tribes of north america. "in no indian language could the early missionaries find a word to express the idea of god. manitou and oki meant anything endowed with supernatural powers, from a snake-skin or a greasy indian conjurer up to manabozho and jouskeha. the priests were forced to use a circumlocution,--`the great chief of men,' or 'he who lives in the sky.'" parkman, jesuits in north america, p. lxxix. "the algonquins used no oaths, for their language supplied none; doubtless because their mythology had no beings sufficiently distinct to swear by." ibid, p. .] [footnote : muller, rig-veda-sanhita, i. .] [footnote : compare the remarks of breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : it should be borne in mind, however, that one of the women who tempt odysseus is not a dawn-maiden, but a goddess of darkness; kalypso answers to venus-ursula in the myth of tannhauser. kirke, on the other hand, seems to be a dawn-maiden, like medeia, whom she resembles. in her the wisdom of the dawn-goddess athene, the loftiest of greek divinities, becomes degraded into the art of an enchantress. she reappears, in the arabian nights, as the wicked queen labe, whose sorcery none of her lovers can baffle, save beder, king of persia.] [footnote : the persian cyrus is an historical personage; but the story of his perils in infancy belongs to solar mythology as much as the stories of the magic sleep of charlemagne and barbarossa. his grandfather, astyages, is purely a mythical creation, his name being identical with that of the night-demon, azidahaka, who appears in the shah-nameh as the biting serpent zohak. see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, ii. .] [footnote : in mediaeval legend this resistless moira is transformed into the curse which prevents the wandering jew from resting until the day of judgment.] [footnote : cox, manual of mythology, p. .] [footnote : in his interesting appendix to henderson's folk lore of the northern counties of england, mr. baring-gould has made an ingenious and praiseworthy attempt to reduce the entire existing mass of household legends to about fifty story-roots; and his list, though both redundant and defective, is nevertheless, as an empirical classification, very instructive.] [footnote : there is nothing in common between the names hercules and herakles. the latter is a compound, formed like themistokles; the former is a simple derivative from the root of hercere, "to enclose." if herakles had any equivalent in latin, it would necessarily begin with s, and not with h, as septa corresponds to epta, sequor to epomai, etc. it should be noted, however, that mommsen, in the fourth edition of his history, abandons this view, and observes: "auch der griechische herakles ist fruh als herclus, hercoles, hercules in italien einheimisch und dort in eigenthumlicher weise aufgefasst worden, wie es scheint zunachst als gott des gewagten gewinns und der ausserordentlichen vermogensvermehrung." romische geschichte, i. . one would gladly learn mommsen's reasons for recurring to this apparently less defensible opinion.] [footnote : for the relations between sancus and herakles, see preller, romische mythologie, p. ; vollmer, mythologie, p. .] [footnote : burnouf, bhagavata-purana, iii. p. lxxxvi; breal, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : max muller, science of language, ii .] [footnote : as max muller observes, "apart from all mythological considerations, sarama in sanskrit is the same word as helena in greek." op. cit. p. . the names correspond phonetically letter for letter, as, surya corresponds to helios, sarameyas to hermeias, and aharyu to achilleus. muller has plausibly suggested that paris similarly answers to the panis.] [footnote : "i create evil," isaiah xiv. ; "shall there be evil in the city, and the lord hath not done it?" amos iii. ; cf. iliad, xxiv. , and contrast samuel xxiv. with chronicles xxi. .] [footnote : nor is there any ground for believing that the serpent in the eden myth is intended for satan. the identification is entirely the work of modern dogmatic theology, and is due, naturally enough, to the habit, so common alike among theologians and laymen, of reasoning about the bible as if it were a single book, and not a collection of writings of different ages and of very different degrees of historic authenticity. in a future work, entitled "aryana vaedjo," i hope to examine, at considerable length, this interesting myth of the garden of eden.] [footnote : for further particulars see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. ii. pp , ; to which i am indebted for several of the details here given. compare welcker, griechische gotterlehre, i. , seq.] [footnote : many amusing passages from scotch theologians are cited in buckle's history of civilization, vol. ii. p. . the same belief is implied in the quaint monkish tale of "celestinus and the miller's horse." see tales from the gesta romanorum, p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, vol. . p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, vol. ii. p. . in the norse story of "not a pin to choose between them," the old woman is in doubt as to her own identity, on waking up after the butcher has dipped her in a tar-barrel and rolled her on a heap of feathers; and when tray barks at her, her perplexity is as great as the devil's when fooled by the frenschutz. see dasent, norse tales, p. .] [footnote : see deulin, contes d'un buveur de biere, pp. - .] [footnote : dasent, popular tales from the norse, no. iii. and no. xlii.] [footnote : see dasent's introduction, p. cxxxix; campbell, tales of the west highlands, vol. iv. p. ; and williams, indian epic poetry, p. .] [footnote : "a leopard was returning home from hunting on one occasion, when he lighted on the kraal of a ram. now the leopard had never seen a ram before, and accordingly, approaching submissively, he said, 'good day, friend! what may your name be?' the other, in his gruff voice, and striking his breast with his forefoot, said, 'i am a ram; who are you?' 'a leopard,' answered the other, more dead than alive; and then, taking leave of the ram, he ran home as fast as he could." bleek, hottentot fables, p. .] [footnote : i agree, most heartily, with mr. mahaffy's remarks, prolegomena to ancient history, p. .] [footnote : sir george grey once told some australian natives about the countries within the arctic circle where during part of the year the sun never sets. "their astonishment now knew no bounds. 'ah! that must be another sun, not the same as the one we see here,' said an old man; and in spite of all my arguments to the contrary, the others adopted this opinion." grey's journals, i. , cited in tylor, early history of mankind, p. .] [footnote : max muller, chips, ii. .] [footnote : fictions of the irish celts, pp. - .] [footnote : a corruption of gaelic bhan a teaigh, "lady of the house."] [footnote : for the analysis of twelve, see my essay on "the genesis of language," north american review, october , p. .] [footnote : chips from a german workshop, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : for various legends of a deluge, see baring-gould, legends of the patriarchs and prophets, pp. - .] [footnote : brinton, myths of the new world, p. .] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : corresponding, in various degrees, to the asvins, the dioskouroi, and the brothers true and untrue of norse mythology.] [footnote : see humboldt's kosmos, tom. iii. pp. - . a fetichistic regard for the cardinal points has not always been absent from the minds of persons instructed in a higher theology as witness a well-known passage in irenaeus, and also the custom, well-nigh universal in europe, of building christian churches in a line east and west.] [footnote : bleek, hottentot fables and tales, p. . compare the fiji story of ra vula, the moon, and ra kalavo, the rat, in tylor, primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : tylor, early history of mankind, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit., p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, ii. - .] [footnote : speaking of beliefs in the malay archipelago, mr. wallace says: "it is universally believed in lombock that some men have the power to turn themselves into crocodiles, which they do for the sake of devouring their enemies, and many strange tales are told of such transformations." wallace, malay archipelago, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : bleek, hottentot fables and tales, p. .] [footnote : callaway, zulu nursery tales, pp. - .] [footnote : callaway, op. cit. pp. - ; cf. a similar story in which the lion is fooled by the jackal. bleek, op. cit. p. . i omit the sequel of the tale.] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. pp. - .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. p. . november, ] [footnote : juventus mundi. the gods and men of the heroic age. by the rt. hon. william ewart gladstone. boston: little, brown, & co. .] [footnote : hist. greece, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : grote, hist. greece, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : for the precise extent to which i would indorse the theory that the iliad-myth is an account of the victory of light over darkness, let me refer to what i have said above on p. . i do not suppose that the struggle between light and darkness was homer's subject in the iliad any more than it was shakespeare's subject in "hamlet." homer's subject was the wrath of the greek hero, as shakespeare's subject was the vengeance of the danish prince. nevertheless, the story of hamlet, when traced back to its norse original, is unmistakably the story of the quarrel between summer and winter; and the moody prince is as much a solar hero as odin himself. see simrock, die quellen des shakespeare, i. - . of course shakespeare knew nothing of this, as homer knew nothing of the origin of his achilleus. the two stories, therefore, are not to be taken as sun-myths in their present form. they are the offspring of other stories which were sun-myths; they are stories which conform to the sun-myth type after the manner above illustrated in the paper on light and darkness. [hence there is nothing unintelligible in the inconsistency--which seems to puzzle max muller (science of language, th ed. vol. ii. p. , note )--of investing paris with many of the characteristics of the children of light. supposing, as we must, that the primitive sense of the iliad-myth had as entirely disappeared in the homeric age, as the primitive sense of the hamlet-myth had disappeared in the times of elizabeth, the fit ground for wonder is that such inconsistencies are not more numerous.] the physical theory of myths will be properly presented and comprehended, only when it is understood that we accept the physical derivation of such stories as the iliad-myth in much the same way that we are bound to accept the physical etymologies of such words as soul, consider, truth, convince, deliberate, and the like. the late dr. gibbs of yale college, in his "philological studies,"--a little book which i used to read with delight when a boy,--describes such etymologies as "faded metaphors." in similar wise, while refraining from characterizing the iliad or the tragedy of hamlet--any more than i would characterize le juif errant by sue, or la maison forestiere by erckmann-chatrian--as nature-myths, i would at the same time consider these poems well described as embodying "faded nature-myths."] [footnote : i have no opinion as to the nationality of the earth-shaker, and, regarding the etymology of his name, i believe we can hardly do better than acknowledge, with mr. cox, that it is unknown. it may well be doubted, however, whether much good is likely to come of comparisons between poseidon, dagon, oannes, and noah, or of distinctions between the children of shem and the children of ham. see brown's poseidon; a link between semite, hamite, and aryan, london, ,--a book which is open to several of the criticisms here directed against mr. gladstone's manner of theorizing.] [footnote : "the expression that the erinys, saranyu, the dawn, finds out the criminal, was originally quite free from mythology; it meant no more than that crime would be brought to light some day or other. it became mythological, however, as soon as the etymological meaning of erinys was forgotten, and as soon as the dawn, a portion of time, assumed the rank of a personal being."--science of language, th edition, ii. . this paragraph, in which the italicizing is mine, contains max muller's theory in a nutshell. it seems to me wholly at variance with the facts of history. the facts concerning primitive culture which are to be cited in this paper will show that the case is just the other way. instead of the expression "erinys finds the criminal" being originally a metaphor, it was originally a literal statement of what was believed to be fact. the dawn (not "a portion of time,"(!) but the rosy flush of the morning sky) was originally regarded as a real person. primitive men, strictly speaking, do not talk in metaphors; they believe in the literal truth of their similes and personifications, from which, by survival in culture, our poetic metaphors are lineally descended. homer's allusion to a rolling stone as essumenos or "yearning" (to keep on rolling), is to us a mere figurative expression; but to the savage it is the description of a fact.] [footnote : primitive culture: researches into the development of mythology, philosophy, religion, art, and custom by edward b. tylor. vols. vo. london. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : rousseau, confessions, i. vi. for further illustration, see especially the note on the "doctrine of signatures," supra, p. .] [footnote : spencer, recent discussions in science, etc., p. , "the origin of animal worship."] [footnote : see nature, vol. vi. p. , august , . the circumstances narrated are such as to exclude the supposition that the sitting up is intended to attract the master's attention. the dog has frequently been seen trying to soften the heart of the ball, while observed unawares by his master.] [footnote : "we would, however, commend to mr. fiske's attention mr. mark twain's dog, who 'couldn't be depended on for a special providence,' as being nearer to the actual dog of every-day life than is the skye terrier mentioned by a certain correspondent of nature, to whose letter mr. fiske refers. the terrier is held to have had 'a few fetichistic notions,' because he was found standing up on his hind legs in front of a mantel-piece, upon which lay an india-rubber ball with which he wished to play, but which he could not reach, and which, says the letter-writer, he was evidently beseeching to come down and play with him. we consider it more reasonable to suppose that a dog who had been drilled into a belief that standing upon his hind legs was very pleasing to his master, and who, therefore, had accustomed himself to stand on his hind legs whenever he desired anything, and whose usual way of getting what he desired was to induce somebody to get it for him, may have stood up in front of the mantel-piece rather from force of habit and eagerness of desire than because he had any fetichistic notions, or expected the india-rubber ball to listen to his supplications. we admit, however, to avoid polemical controversy, that in matter of religion the dog is capable of anything." the nation, vol. xv. p. , october , . to be sure, i do not know for certain what was going on in the dog's mind; and so, letting both explanations stand, i will only add another fact of similar import. "the tendency in savages to imagine that natural objects and agencies are animated by spiritual or living essences is perhaps illustrated by a little fact which i once noticed: my dog, a full-grown and very sensible animal, was lying on the lawn during a hot and still day; but at a little distance a slight breeze occasionally moved an open parasol, which would have been wholly disregarded by the dog, had any one stood near it. as it was, every time that the parasol slightly moved, the dog growled fiercely and barked. he must, i think, have reasoned to himself, in a rapid and unconscious manner, that movement without any apparent cause indicated the presence of some strange living agent, and no stranger had a right to be on his territory." darwin, descent of man, vol. . p. . without insisting upon all the details of this explanation, one may readily grant, i think, that in the dog, as in the savage, there is an undisturbed association between motion and a living motor agency; and that out of a multitude of just such associations common to both, the savage, with his greater generalizing power, frames a truly fetichistic conception.] [footnote : note the fetichism wrapped up in the etymologies of these greek words. catalepsy, katalhyis, a seizing of the body by some spirit or demon, who holds it rigid. ecstasy, ekstasis, a displacement or removal of the soul from the body, into which the demon enters and causes strange laughing, crying, or contortions. it is not metaphor, but the literal belief ill a ghost-world, which has given rise to such words as these, and to such expressions as "a man beside himself or transported."] [footnote : something akin to the savage's belief in the animation of pictures may be seen in young children. i have often been asked by my three-year-old boy, whether the dog in a certain picture would bite him if he were to go near it; and i can remember that, in my own childhood, when reading a book about insects, which had the formidable likeness of a spider stamped on the centre of the cover, i was always uneasy lest my finger should come in contact with the dreaded thing as i held the book.] [footnote : tylor, primitive culture, i. . "the zulus hold that a dead body can cast no shadow, because that appurtenance departed from it at the close of life." hardwick, traditions, superstitions, and folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : harland and wilkinson, lancashire folk-lore, , p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : in russia the souls of the dead are supposed to be embodied in pigeons or crows. "thus when the deacon theodore and his three schismatic brethren were burnt in , the souls of the martyrs, as the 'old believers' affirm, appeared in the air as pigeons. in volhynia dead children are supposed to come back in the spring to their native village under the semblance of swallows and other small birds, and to seek by soft twittering or song to console their sorrowing parents." ralston, songs of the russian people, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. . in the next stage of survival this belief will take the shape that it is wrong to slam a door, no reason being assigned; and in the succeeding stage, when the child asks why it is naughty to slam a door, he will be told, because it is an evidence of bad temper. thus do old-world fancies disappear before the inroads of the practical sense.] [footnote : agassiz, essay on classification, pp. - .] [footnote : figuier, the to-morrow of death, p. .] [footnote : here, as usually, the doctrine of metempsychosis comes in to complete the proof. "mr. darwin saw two malay women in keeling island, who had a wooden spoon dressed in clothes like a doll; this spoon had been carried to the grave of a dead man, and becoming inspired at full moon, in fact lunatic, it danced about convulsively like a table or a hat at a modern spirit-seance." tylor, op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. - .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. , ; ii. , .] [footnote : according to the karens, blindness occurs when the soul of the eye is eaten by demons. id., ii. .] [footnote : the following citation is interesting as an illustration of the directness of descent from heathen manes-worship to christian saint-worship: "it is well known that romulus, mindful of his own adventurous infancy, became after death a roman deity, propitious to the health and safety of young children, so that nurses and mothers would carry sickly infants to present them in his little round temple at the foot of the palatine. in after ages the temple was replaced by the church of st. theodorus, and there dr. conyers middleton, who drew public attention to its curious history, used to look in and see ten or a dozen women, each with a sick child in her lap, sitting in silent reverence before the altar of the saint. the ceremony of blessing children, especially after vaccination, may still be seen there on thursday mornings." op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : want of space prevents me from remarking at length upon mr. tylor's admirable treatment of the phenomena of oracular inspiration. attention should be called, however, to the brilliant explanation of the importance accorded by all religions to the rite of fasting. prolonged abstinence from food tends to bring on a mental state which is favourable to visions. the savage priest or medicine-man qualifies himself for the performance of his duties by fasting, and where this is not sufficient, often uses intoxicating drugs; whence the sacredness of the hasheesh, as also of the vedic soma-juice. the practice of fasting among civilized peoples is an instance of survival.] the evil eye thanatology _and other essays_ roswell park, m. d., ll.d. (yale) [illustration: man operating fruit press "arti et veritati"] richard g. badger the gorham press boston copyright, , by richard g. badger all rights reserved the gorham press, boston, u. s. a. to sir william osler, m. d., ll.d., f. r. c. p., etc. regius professor of medicine, oxford university. ideal scholar and friend. preface responsibility for the following collection of essays and addresses (occasional papers) rests perhaps not more with their writer, who was not unwilling to see them presented in a single volume, than with those of his friends who were complimentary enough to urge their assemblage and publication in this shape. they partake of the character of studies in that borderland of anthropology, biology, philology and history which surrounds the immediate domain of medical and general science. this ever offers a standing invitation and an enduring fascination for those who will but raise their eyes from the fertile and arable soil in which they concentrate their most arduous labors. too close confinement in this field may result in greater commercial yield, but the fragrance of the clover detracts not at all from the value of the hay, nor do borderland studies result otherwise than in enlargement of the boundaries of one's storm center of work. no strictly technical nor professional papers have been reprinted herein, while several of those which appear do so for the first time. buffalo, december, . contents chapter page i the evil eye ii thanatology iii serpent-myths and serpent worship iv iatro-theurgic symbolism v the relation of the grecian mysteries to the foundation of christianity vi the knights hospitaller of st. john of jerusalem vii giordano bruno viii student life in the middle ages ix a study of medical words, deeds and men x the career of the army surgeon xi the evolution of the surgeon from the barber xii the story of the discovery of the circulation xiii history of anaesthesia and the introduction of anaesthetics in surgery i the evil eye[ ] [ ] a presidential address before the buffalo society of natural sciences. belief in magic has been called by tylor, one of the greatest authorities on the occult sciences, "one of the most pernicious delusions that ever vexed mankind." it has been at all times among credulous and superstitious people made the tool of envy, which bacon well described as the vilest and most depraved of all feelings. bacon, moreover, singled out love and envy as the only two affections which have been noted to fascinate, or bewitch, since they both have "vehement wishes, frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions and come easily into the eye." he also noted the fact that in the scriptures envy was called the evil eye. it is to this interesting subject in anthropological and folk-lore study, namely, the evil eye, that i wish to invite your attention for a time. belief in it is, of course, inseparable from credence in a personal devil or some personal evil and malign influence, but in modern times and among people who are supposed to be civilized has been regarded ordinarily as an attribute of the devil. consideration of the subject is inseparable, too, from a study of the expressions "to fascinate" and "to bewitch." indeed this word "fascination" has a peculiar etymological interest. it seems to be a latin form of the older greek verb "_baskanein_," or else to be descended from a common root. no matter what its modern signification, originally it meant to bewitch or to subject to an evil influence, particularly by means of eyes or tongue or by casting of spells. later it came to mean the influencing of the imagination, reason or will in an uncontrollable manner, and now, as generally used, means to captivate or to allure. its use in our language is of itself an indication of the superstition so generally prevalent centuries ago. it is, however, rather a polite term for which we have the more vulgar equivalent "to bewitch," used in a signification much more like the original meaning. belief in an evil power constantly at work has existed from absolutely prehistoric times. it has been more or less tacitly adopted and sanctioned by various creeds or religious beliefs, particularly so by the church of rome, by mediaeval writers and by writers on occult science. even now it exists not only among savage nations but everywhere among common people. we to-day may call it superstition, but there was a time when it held enormous sway over mankind, and exercised a tremendous influence. in its present form it consists often of a belief that certain individuals possess a blighting power, and the expression in england to "overlook" is not only very common, but an easily recognizable persistence of the old notion. evidently st. paul shared this prevalent belief when he rebuked the foolish galatians, saying as in our common translation, "who hath bewitched you that ye should not obey the truth?" in the vulgate the word translated "bewitch" is "_fascinare_," exactly the same word as used by virgil, and referring to the influence of the evil eye. cicero himself discussed the word "fascination," and he explained the latin verb _invidere_ and noun _invidia_ as meaning to look closely at; whence comes our word envy, or evil eye. all the ancients believed that from the eyes of envious or angry people there was projected some malign influence which could infect the air and penetrate and corrupt both living creatures and inanimate objects. woyciki, in his polish folk-lore, relates the story of a most unhappy slav, who though possessed of a most loving heart realized that he was afflicted with the evil eye, and at last blinded himself in order that he might not cast a spell over his children. even to-day, among the scotch highlanders, if a stranger look too admiringly at a cow the people believe that she will waste away of the evil eye, and they give him of her milk to drink in order to break the spell. plutarch was sure that certain men's eyes were destructive to infants and young animals, and he believed that the thebans could thus destroy not only the young but strong men. the classical writers are so full of allusions to this subject that it is easy to see where people during the middle ages got their prevalent belief in witches. thus, pliny said that those possessed of the evil eye would not sink in water, even if weighed down with clothes; hence the mediaeval ordeal by water;--which had, however, its inconveniences for the innocent, for if the reputed witch sank he evidently was not guilty, but if he floated he was counted guilty and then burned. not only was this effect supposed to be produced by the fascinating eye, but even by the voice, which, some asserted, could blast trees, kill children and destroy animals. in pliny's time special laws were enacted against injury to crops by incantation or fascination; but the romans went even farther than this, and believed that their gods were envious of each other and cast their evil eyes upon the less powerful of their own circle; hence the _caduceus_ which mercury always carried as a protection. to be the reputed possessor of an evil eye was an exceeding great misfortune. solomon lent himself to the belief when he enjoined, "eat thou not the bread of him that hath an evil eye." (prov. : ). the most inconvenient country in which to have this reputation to-day is italy, and especially in naples. the italians apply the term _jettatore_ to the individual thus suspected, and to raise the cry of "_jettatore_" in a neapolitan crowd even to-day is to cause a speedy stampede. for the italians the worst of all is the "_jettatore di bambini_," or the fascinator of infants. elworthy relates the case of a gentleman who on three occasions acted in naples in the capacity of sponsor; singularly all three children died, whereupon he at once got the reputation of having the "_malocchio_" to such an extent that mothers would take all sorts of precautions to keep their children out of his sight. the great bacon lent himself also to the belief to such an extent as to advise the carrying on one's person of certain articles, such as rue, or a wolf's tail or even an onion, by which the evil influence was supposed to be averted. a most interesting work was written by valletta and published in naples in . it was practically a treatise upon fascination and the jettatore. valletta himself was a profound believer in all this sort of thing, and finished up his work by offering rewards for answers to certain questions, among which were the following:--"which jettatore is most powerful, he who has or he who has not a wig? whether monks are more powerful than others? to what distance does the influence of the jettatore extend, and whether it operates more to the side, front or back? what words in general ought one to repeat to escape the evil eye?" in ancient times it was believed that women had greater power of fascination then men, a belief to which our sex still hold at the present day, although in modern times the evil eye proper is supposed to be possessed by men rather than by women; monks especially, ever since the establishment of religious orders, being considered to possess this fatal influence. curiously enough, the late pope, pius ix, was supposed to be a most pronounced jettatore, and the most devout catholics would point two fingers at him even while receiving his blessing. let me quote elworthy in this connection:--"ask a roman about the late pope's evil eye, and he will answer, 'they say so, and it really seems to be true. if he had not the jettatura it is very odd that everything he blessed made fiasco. we did very well in the campaign against the austrians in ' ; we were winning battle after battle and all was gayety and hope, when suddenly he blessed the cause and everything went to the bad at once. nothing succeeds with anybody or anything when he wishes well to them. when he went to s. agnese to hold a great festival down went the floor and the people were all smashed together. then he visited the column to the madonna in the piazza di spagna and blessed it and the workmen. of course one fell from the scaffold the same day and killed himself. he arranged to meet the king of naples at porto d'anzio, when up came a violent gale and storm that lasted a week. another arrangement was made and then came the fracas about the ex-queen of spain.'" the superstition of the evil eye and of witchcraft goes everywhere with the belief in the power of transformation, which at certain periods of history has been so prevalent as to account for many of the stories of ancient mythology, and will account even for such nursery stories as that of little red riding hood, as well as for the old-world belief in the _werewolf_. indeed, a common expression of to-day reminds one of this old belief, since it is a common saying to be ready to "jump out of one's skin for joy." this belief in transformation has begotten an ever-present dread of ill omens which is even now one of the most prevalent of superstitions. in somerset, to see a hare cross the path in front of one is a sign of death. in india they fear to name any sacred or dreaded animal. the black cat is everywhere an object of aversion, and in some parts of england to meet a person who squints is equal to meeting one possessing the evil eye. surely i do not need to remind this audience of the fear which many people have of taking any important action on friday. this fear goes so far in some instances as to lead people to deprecate over-praise or apologize for a too positive statement. your courteous turk will not take a compliment without "mashallah;" the italians will not receive one without "grazio a dio;" while the irishman almost always says "glory be to god," and the english peasant "lord be wi' us;" the idea in every instance being to avert the danger of fascination by these acknowledgments of a higher power. in england during the horrible times when the black death raged it was supposed that the disease was communicated by a glance from the distorted eyes of a sick man. in delrio, a jesuit, published a large six-volume folio work entitled "a disquisition on magic," in which he takes it for granted that the calamities of mortals are the work of evil spirits. he says, "fascination is a power derived by contact with the devil, who, when the so-called fascinator looks at another with evil intent, or praises by means known to himself, infects with evil the person at whom he looks." those familiar with the history of so-called animal magnetism, mesmerism or hypnotism, will see a close connection between these beliefs and the practice of this peculiar form of influence. mesmerism, in fact, as ordinarily practiced, was more or less dependent upon the influence of touch, or actual contact, whose importance has always been by the credulous rated high. in fact, it will be remembered that many of the miracles of the new testament were performed by the aid of touch, and in the old testament it is recorded how disappointed naaman was when he went to be cured of his leprosy in that the prophet did not _touch_ him. the influence of the _royal touch_ for the cure of scrofula, known for centuries as the king's evil, will also not be forgotten. in fact, our word to "bless" signifies to touch by making the sign of the cross on the diseased part, as, for instance, in the west of england, where goitre is rather common, it is believed that the best cure is that the swelling should be touched by the hand of a corpse of the opposite sex. the more we deal with the superstitions now under consideration the more evident it becomes that the principal thought among the simpler peoples, or even among some of the religious sects of to-day, has been the propitiation of angry deities, or of destructive influences, rather than the worship and exaltation of beneficent attributes. as elworthy says, "we find that fear and dread have in all human history been more potent factors in men's conduct than hope and gratitude or love." take for example the propitiatory sacrifices of abel and cain, or the sacrifice which abraham proposed to make of his own son, or the very words which have crept into our language such as _atonement_, etc. with this personification of an evil power or attribute in nature came also belief in transformation, or metamorphosis, of which the greek and roman mythology is full. how many of the christian symbols of to-day, nearly all of which are of pagan origin, convey to the initiated instances of this belief, can hardly be mentioned in this place. suffice it to say that their number is very great. but i find too many temptations to wander from my subject, which is essentially the evil eye. in mediaeval symbolism, as in ancient, the intent often was to represent either on some amulet, charm or picture a figure of the thing against which it was most desired that a protective influence should be exercised, hence the general prevalence of the eye in some pictorial representation. the ancient egyptians, as well as the etruscans, used to paint a huge eye on the bows of their vessels, which was supposed to be a charm against the evil eye. even to-day in the orient i have seen greek boats with eyes painted on either side of their prows. the eye was a common adornment of egyptian pottery, usually in combination with various other pictures, but as a symbol it seems during the past century or two to have passed out of common employ, except perhaps in malta, and among the free-masons, who simply are perpetuating its use. nevertheless, wax or silver eyes are seen hung up in some foreign churches. a curious feature of these superstitions has been this, that any feature of indecency or obscenity when attaching to these symbols, amulets, etc., has been supposed to make them much more potent. this probably was because anything strange or unusual was more likely to attract the eye, and therefore divert its influence from the individual to the inanimate object, hence the prevalence of phallic emblems in connection with these fancied protections. many objects of this kind can be to-day picked up in the jewelry stores of rome and of naples. another of the most efficacious of these amulets takes the general form of a hideous mask, often called the _gorgoneion_. in all probability this was largely for the reason given above--that it was most likely to attract attention. symbols of this kind are in very general use among people who know nothing of the reason therefore. thus, we see them on seals, coins, etc. the gargoyles of mediaeval architecture are frequently given this fantastic appearance and for this same purpose. in roman times the dolphin was a favorite device for a potent charm against the evil eye, and was pictured on many a soldier's shield. ulysses adopted it as his especial choice, both on his signet and his shield, perhaps because it was supposed to have been through the agency of the dolphin that telemachus was saved from drowning. to us in the medical profession it is of no little interest that in rome, according to varro, there stood three temples on the esquiline dedicated to the goddess of fever and one to mephitis. tacitus relates that a temple to mephitis was the only building left standing after the destruction of cremona, where there was also an altar dedicated to the evil eye. we know, also, that in the very centre of the forum there stood an altar to cloacina, the goddess of typhoid. what complete sway this goddess has held from ancient times to the present i need scarcely tell you. "when rome, after the fall of the empire, relapsed into its most insanitary condition this old worship reappeared in another shape, and a chapel arose near the vatican to the _madonna della febre_, the most popular in rome in times of sickness or epidemic." this simply shows a transfer of ideas, the attributes of diana being conveyed over to her christian successor, the virgin, whose cult became equally supreme. the principal symbol of this cult was the horned moon or crescent, and, in consequence, horns in one form or another became the most common of objects as amulets against the evil eye. so comprehensive and persistent is this belief in naples that, in the absence of a horn in some shape, the mere utterance of the name _corno_ was supposed to be an effectual protection. even more than this, the name _un corno_ became applicable to any and every charm or amulet against the evil eye. we may find many references to the horn in scripture, where it served both as an emblem of dignity and as an amulet. most curious it is that the phylactery with which the pharisees adorned their garments, and which called forth the most scathing denunciation by the master, was undoubtedly an emblem of a horn, and worn as an amulet against the evil eye. at the beginning of the christian era it had become fashionable to wear these, and how they were enlarged and made not only badges of sanctity but marks of worldly honor, we may read in the new testament. the horn has been an important feature of christian symbolism, as of pagan, and we constantly see the ram's horn, which was the successor of the bull's horn, made such from economical reasons, all over the ruins of ancient rome. the married women of lebanon wear silver horns upon their heads to distinguish them from the single women. the jewesses of northern africa wear them as a part of their regular costume, and even to-day curious spiral ornaments are worn on either side of the head by the dutch women. in naples horns in all shapes are exceedingly common upon the trappings of the cab horses. indeed the heavy trappings and harness of these overloaded animals are usually protected with a perfect battery of potent charms, so that any evil glance must be fully extinguished before it can light upon the animal itself. thus, we may frequently see upon the backs of these animals two little brazen flags, said to be typical of the flaming sword which turned every way, and which are supposed to be an unfailing attraction to the eye. the high pommel ends usually in a piece of the inevitable wolf's skin, and many colored ribbons or worsteds are wound about portions of the harness in such a way as completely to protect all that it encloses. but the most numerous of all these emblems is a _hand_ in various positions or gestures. probably every other cab horse in naples carries the hand about him in some form. in rome these things are not seen so much on horses' backs, although wolf skins, horns and crescents are common enough, but we see large numbers of silver rings for human fingers, to each of which a little pendant horn is attached. these may be seen in the shop windows strung upon rods and plainly marked _annelli contra la jettatura_. those who have seen naples thoroughly have noted how cows' horns, often painted blue, are fixed against the walls, especially at an angle, about the height of the first floor. but one of the most remarkable amulets which i have ever seen hangs outside one of the entries to the cathedral in seville, where over a door is hung by a chain the tusk of an elephant, and further out, over the same doorway, swung by another chain, an enormous crocodile, sent as a present or charm of special power to alfonso, in , by the sultan of egypt. these two strange charms hang over the doorway of a christian church of to-day, indicating the acceptance by a christian people of a moslem emblem and amulet. again, in rome it is very common to see a small cow's horn on the framework of the roman wine carts or dangling beneath the axle. much more common and better known among the anglo-saxon peoples is the horse-shoe emblem, which with us has lost all of its original signification, as an emblem of fecundity, and has become a charm against evil. it is hung up over doorways, is nailed up in houses, it guards stable doors and protects fields against malign influences. even in the paris exhibition of , where there was a representation of a street from old cairo, there hung over several of the doors a crocodile with a horse-shoe on his snout. so far i have said very little about the positions of the hand and certain gestures by which it is intended to ward off the evil eye. the mohammedans, like the neapolitans, are profound believers in the efficacy of manual signs; thus outside of many a door in tangier i have seen the imprint of a hand made by placing the outstretched hand upon some sticky black or colored material, which was then transferred as by a type or die to the doorway of the dwelling, where in the likeness of the outstretched manus it serves to guard the dwellers within. this is to me one of the most curious things to be observed in mohammedan countries. a relic of the same belief i have seen also over the great gate of the alhambra, in the tower of justice, where, in spite of the very strict moslem custom and belief against representation of any living object, over the keystone of the outer moorish arch is carved an outstretched upright hand, a powerful protection against evil. it is this position of the hand, by the way, which has been observed in all countries in the administration of the judicial oath. moreover, the hand in this position is the modern heraldic sign of baronetcy. the hand in the customary position of benediction is sometimes open and extended, while at other times only the first and second fingers are straightened. the power which the extended hand may exert is well illustrated in the biblical account (exodus : ) "and it came to pass when moses held up his hand that israel prevailed, and when he let down his hand amalek prevailed." and so it happened that when moses wearied of the constrained position his hand was supported by aaron and by hur. this is only one of numerous illustrations in the holy writings showing the talismanic influence of the human hand. there are comparatively few people who realize, to-day, that the conventional attitude of prayer as of benediction, with hands held up, is the old charm as against the evil eye. in one of the great marble columns in the mosque of st. sophia in constantinople there is a remarkable natural freak by which there seems to appear upon the dark marble the white figure of an outspread hand. this is held in the highest reverence by the superstitious populace, who all approach it to pray for protection from the evil eye. the open hand has also been stamped upon many a coin both in ancient and modern times, and the general prevalence of the hand as a form of doorknocker can be seen alike in the ruins of pompeii and the modern dwelling. the hand clenched in various forms has been used in more ways than as a mere signal or sign of defiance. in italy the _mano-fica_ implies contempt or insult rather than defiance. among all the latin races this peculiar gesture of the thumb between the first and second fingers has a significant name and a significant meaning. it is connected everywhere with the fig, and expresses in the most discourteous way that which is implied in our english phrase "don't care a fig." it is in common use as an amulet to be worn from the neck or about the body, and conveys the same meaning as that which the neapolitans frequently express when they say "may the evil eye do you no harm." another position of the hand, namely, that with the index and little fingers extended, while the middle and ring fingers are flexed and clasped by the thumb, gives also the rude imitation of the head of a horned animal, and is frequently spoken of as the _mano cornuta_. a neapolitan's right hand is frequently, in some instances almost constantly, kept in that position pointing downwards, just as hand charms are made to hang downwards, save when it is desired to use the sign against some particular individual, when the hand is pointed toward him, even at his very eyes if he appear much to be dreaded. when, however, the hand in this position is pointed toward one's chin it conveys a most insulting meaning and hints at conjugal infidelity. as the neapolitan cab-men pass each other the common sign is to wave the hand in gesture and in this position. this is true also of many other places. the sign of the cross is very often made with the hand, usually with the first two fingers extended, and seems to mean a benediction of double potency, because both the hand and the cross itself are utilized in the gesture. i have elsewhere discussed the signification of the sign of the cross, and do not care to take it up again just now. it is certainly of phallic origin and as certainly antedates the christian era by many hundred years. it is, in other words, a pagan symbol to which a newer significance has been given. talismanic power has usually been ascribed to it, and in some form, either as the greek tau or the crux ansata, has been most frequently employed. in one or the other of these forms it was the mark set upon the houses of the israelites to preserve them from the destroying angel. in the roll of the roman soldiery, after a battle, it was placed after the names of those still alive; and we read in ezekiel : of the mark which was to be set upon "the foreheads of the men that cry," which was certainly the greek tau, because the vulgate plainly states this. upon some of the old anglo-saxon coins there was placed a cross on each side, usually the handled cross, and upon various seals it has been in use until a comparatively recent period. it may be seen, also, in many illustrations from the catacombs, for instance, dating back to a time before the cross was a generally received christian emblem, showing both the use of the cross and the hand in the positions to which i have already alluded. the sign of the cross is made by many a schoolboy in his play before he shoots his marble, and i have often seen it made upon the wooden ball before a man has bowled with it. many a peasant scratches it upon his field after sowing, and many a housewife has scratched it upon her dough. the hand with the first two fingers and thumb extended in the ordinary position of sacerdotal benediction was certainly a charm against evil long before the christian era. this is not used so much by the common people, but has been appropriated rather by the priests. by a sort of general consent this has been especially the attitude permitted to the second person of the trinity, although there are numerous instances in mediaeval painting where the hand of the first person has been shown in this position. indeed, the expression "_dextera dei_," or "right hand of god," is conventionalized. in many amulets, images and pictures, other charms are combined with that supposed to be exercised by the human hand. an exceedingly common one was the egyptian scarab. the egyptians believed that there were no females of this kind of insect, hence it was considered a symbol of virility and manly force, and in connection with the _mano pantea_ just alluded to gave the amulet power to guard both the living and dead. in fact it was almost as common upon these emblems as the human eye itself. again, the serpent was a frequent emblem in this same connection. as i have elsewhere written upon the subject of serpent-worship i need scarcely more than allude to it here, save to say that to the serpent were ascribed numerous virtues and powers, and that its use upon any charm was supposed to reinforce the virtues already possessed by it. among the most curious of all the italian charms against the evil eye, and yet one which has been singularly neglected by most writers, is the sprig of rue or, as the neapolitans call it, the _cimaruta_. in its simplest form it was undoubtedly of etruscan or phoenician origin. later, however, it became curiously involved with other symbols and quite complicated. it is worn especially upon the breasts of neapolitan babies, and is considered their especial protection against the much-dreaded jettatura. in ancient times no plant had so many virtues ascribed to it as had the rue. pliny, indeed, cites it as being a remedy for different diseases. it used to be hung about the neck in primeval times to serve as an amulet against fascination. in most of these amulet forms it consists of three branches, which were supposed to be typical of diana triformis, who used often to be represented in three positions and as if having three pairs of arms. diana, by the way, was the especial protectress of women in child-birth. silver was her own metal and the moon her special emblem. therefore, the expression, "the silver moon" is not so meaningless as it would appear. this will in some measure account for the fact that corals, to which large virtues were ascribed, used always to be mounted in silver, and that the crescent, or new moon, is also almost invariably made of this same metal. of the many charms which used to be combined in the _cimaruta_ there is scarcely one which may not be more or less considered as connected with diana, the goddess of infants. frequently, also, we may see representations of the sea-horse quite like the living hippocampi of to-day, which are worn alike by cab horses and by women in naples. they are known locally as the _cavalli marini_. protection supposed to be most efficient was and is frequently afforded also by another method, namely, printed or written invocations, prayers, formulae, etc., worn somewhere about the body. sometimes these were worn concealed from view and at others they were openly displayed. even today on turkish horses and arab camels are hung little bags containing passages from the koran, while the neapolitan horses frequently carry in little canvas bags prayers to the madonna or verses from scripture,--these as a sort of last resort in case the other charms fail. the good catholic of to-day, especially if of irish descent, wears his little scapulary suspended around the neck, which is supposed to be a potent protection. frommannd's large work on magic offers us a perfect mine of written spells against fascination, which have often to be prepared with certain mystic observances. the various written charms, as against the bite of the mad dog, are only other illustrations of the same superstition. indeed, many superstitious people believe that the mere utterance of particular numbers exercises a charm. daily expression of this belief we see in the credulity about the luck of odd numbers, and the old belief that the third time will be lucky. military salutes are always in odd numbers. more value attaches in public estimation to the number seven than to any other, as we see in the miraculous powers ascribed to the seventh son of a seventh son. an appeal to luck to-day is the equivalent of the old prayer to the goddess fortuna, and is voiced in the common idea about the lucky coin and the various little observances for luck which are so popular. these observances are everywhere inclusive of the popular importance attached to expectoration, which is one of the most curious features of these many widespread beliefs. the habit of spitting on a coin, for instance, is very common, just as the schoolboy spits on his agate when playing marbles or on his baseball, or the bowler upon his wooden ball before rolling it. in fact, this whole matter of spitting has been in all ages an expression of a deep-rooted popular belief. among the ancient greeks and romans the most common remedy against an envious look was spitting, hence it was called "_despuere malum_." old women would avert the evil eye from their children by spitting three times (observe the odd number) into their bosoms. the virtues and properties attributed to saliva among various peoples have been numerous and exalted. to lick a wart on rising in the morning used to be one of its well-recognized cures, and is to-day a popular remedy for any slight wound. especially was the saliva of a fasting person peculiarly efficacious. pliny states that when a person looks upon an infant asleep the nurse should spit three times upon the ground. but the most marvellous virtues were attributed to saliva in the direction of restoration of sight. the most conspicuous illustration of this is the instance mentioned in the new testament when christ healed the blind man, for it is related that: "he spat on the ground and made clay of the spittle, and did anoint the eyes of the blind man with the clay." the practice of concealing the eyes is prevalent throughout the orient, and among the mohammedans, cannot be referred entirely to male jealousy, for the women themselves confess to the greatest reluctance to show their faces to the stranger, fearing the influence of the evil eye. again, inasmuch as from time immemorial diseases of all kinds have been considered the direct result of fascination, it was most natural that charms of varied form should be introduced as a protection. many persons even of considerable education lend themselves to this superstition. the carrying in one's pocket of a potato, a lump of camphor or an amulet is, among other alleged charms, but an everyday illustration of this belief. it would be possible to go on with an almost endless enumeration of the forms of this still generally prevalent belief in the power of the evil eye, and of the charms by which it may be averted. as has been set forth, it is but a particulate expression of a general and widespread belief in the existence of an evil being, for some vague and almost unsubstantial, for others assuming almost the proportions of the personal devil of mediaeval theology, or even of the tyrolean passion plays. a discussion in a general way of this topic i have held to be not entirely foreign to the purpose of this society, it being one of the most interesting subjects of folklore study, and it may perhaps be considered just at the present to have a more particular interest for us in that we have so recently been favored with a most delightful and scholarly essay on the "salem witchcraft" by prof. john fiske, in which he graphically set forth the mechanism and the consequences of an aggravated expression of this belief, which constitutes the most serious blot which can be found upon the history of the protestant white races in this country. ii thanatology a questionnaire and a plea for a neglected study[ ] [ ] appeared first in the journal of the american medical association, april , . is it possible to watch the "vital spark of heavenly flame," as it quits "this mortal frame" and not be overcome by the mystery of death as the termination of that even greater mystery, life? is there inspiration in the pagan emperor's address to his soul--those latin verses which pope has so beautifully translated? to the speculative philosopher death may have a different significance, and one not altogether included in that given to it by the physiologist. to the former it is a subject for transcendental speculation; to the latter it is the terminal stage of that adjustment of internal and external relations which, for spencer, constitutes life. for us its primary and immediate significance is purely mundane, yet it deserves such serious study from a practical viewpoint as it seldom receives. what is death? when does it actually occur? how can it occur when the majority of cells in the previously living organism live on for hours or for days or, under certain favoring circumstances, retain potentialities of life for indefinite periods? these and numberless related questions constitute a line of inquiry that may well call for a separate department of science. pondering in this wise, i long ago coined an expression which years later i found had been incorporated in the scientific dictionaries, though never before heard by me or encountered in my reading. "thanatology" is this word, and it may be defined as the study of the nature and causes of death. inseparable from it, however, are certain considerations regarding the nature and causes of life. yet i would not introduce a compound term such as "biothanatology," wishing so far as possible to limit the study and the meaning. let us ask ourselves a few more questions. does life inhere in any particular cell? in the leukocytes? in the neurons? both are capable of stimulated activity long after the death of their host. in fact, by suitable electric stimulation, nearly all the phenomena of life may be reproduced after death, save consciousness and mentality alone. do these then constitute life, and their suppression or abolition death? if so what about the condition of trance, or of absolute imbecility, congenital or induced? or, again, how can a decapitated frog go on living for hours? is it perhaps because the heart is _the_ vital organ that the hearts of some animals will continue to palpitate for hours after their removal from the bodies? yet the animals which have lost them certainly promptly die. suddenly stop a man's heart-action by electrocution, or the guillotine, or a bullet, and he dies, we say, instantly. let it stop equally suddenly under chloroform and there is a period of several minutes during which it may be set going. let a man apparently drown and this viable period becomes even longer--say a goodly fraction of an hour. during the interval is he alive or dead, or is there an intermediate period of absolutely suspended animation? and if so, in what does it consist? is there a vital principle? if so what is it? is such a thing conceivable? can such a concept prevail among physicists? can we consent even to entertain in this direction the notion of what is so vaguely called "the soul?" of course, those who talk most lucidly about the soul know least about it, and no man can define it in comprehensible terms; but can consideration of the soul (whatever it may be) be omitted from our thanatology? probably not, at least by many thinkers who cannot segregate their physics from their theology. sad it is that theology, which might be so consolatory had it any fixed foundation, should be utterly impotent when so much is wanted of it. theology, however, has little if aught to do with thanatology. is protoplasm alive? if so, then why may we not believe, with binet, in the psychic life of micro-organisms? he seems to have advanced good reason for assuming that we may do so, albeit such manifestations in either direction may be scarcely more than expressions of chemiotaxis. but if protoplasm be alive in any proper sense, as it would appear (else where draw the line?), just when does it so appear and whence comes its life? if it be alive, then life inheres in the nitrogen compounds composing it, or else is an adjunct of matter, imponderable, elusive, something _un_-conceivable if undeniable. the vitalists are of late perhaps attaining an ascendency which for decades they had lost, since they maintain that life is not to be explained by chemical activities alone. and yet it is possible to set going in the eggs of certain sea animals the phenomena of life, or to liberate them by certain weak solutions of alkaline cyanides, without the pressure or assistance of fructifying spermatozoa. in such cases life or death are determined by ionization and certain chemicals, or by their absence. where then, again, is the vital principle? or is it inherent in the ion, and was bion correct when he said "electricity is life?" the life of a cell is then necessarily quite distinct from the life of its host, nor can the latter be composed simply of the numerical total lives of its components. some lower animals bear semidivision, in which case each half soon becomes a complete unit by itself. others seem to bear the loss of almost any individual part without loss of life, and it is hard to say just which is the vital part. the central pumping organ is perhaps the _sine qua non_, when it exists. but when non-existent, then what? again, while a living organism may be artificially divided into viable portions, no method seems known by which a series of separate cells may be, as it were, assembled or combined into one, of which a new unit may result from assemblage or combination. the more highly specialized or complex the cell, the more easily does it part with life, and the more difficult becomes its preservation and its reproduction. we may assume that after the death of a man his most specialized cells are the first to die, or more, that their death has perhaps preceded his own. in the ante-mortem collapse seen in many diseases and poisonings, has not this very thing occurred, i. e., that the patient has outlived his most important cells? certainly when a patient dies of progressive gangrene he has outlived, perhaps, a large proportion of his millions of competent cells. viewed properly, what a strange spectacle is here presented! perhaps twenty per cent. of his cells actually dead, the rest bathed in more or less poisonous media, still their host endures yet a little while. "behold, i show you a great mystery." about which of the poisoned cells does the flame of life still flicker? the life-giving germ-and sperm-cells may exist and persist for some time after the body dies, as numerous experiences and experiments have shown. ova and spermatozoa do not die the instant the host dies. and herein appears another great mystery, that cells from the undoubtedly dead body may possess and unfold the potentialities of life when properly environed. among the lower forms of life cells but slightly differentiated go on living and even creating new organisms, though the larger organisms be dead. moreover, in what way shall we regard the division of one ameboid cell into two, equally alive and complete? here two living organisms are made out of one, without death intervening, and by permutation alone may one calculate, through how few generations cells need pass in order to be numbered by millions, without a death necessary to the process. thus far we have had in mind life and death in the animal kingdom alone. but most of what has been said, and much that has not, is equally true in the vegetable kingdom. even in the mineral kingdom--as some think--the invariable and inevitable tendency to assume definite crystalline form represents the lowest type of life. indeed it might fall in with spencer's definition as evincing a tendency to adjust internal to external relations, though exhibited only after such ruthless disturbance as liquefaction by heat or solution. but then, is not every disturbance of relations "ruthless," because it follows inexorable habits of nature? even a crystal will reform as frequently as appear certain other phenomena of life, if made to do so. were atoms alive they would suffer with every fresh chemical change, and who knows but that they do? but in the vegetable world we certainly have all the features of life and death in complete form: fructification of certain cells by certain others, development in unicellular form or in most profuse and complex form, a selection of necessary constituents of growth from apparently unpromising soil, and the production of startling results. does not the sensitive plant evince a contact sensibility almost equal to that of the conjunctiva? and who shall say that it does not suffer when rudely handled? does not the production of the complex essential oils and volatile ethers which give to certain flowers their wonderful fragrance, indicating what strange combinations of crude materials have been effected within their cells, show as wonderful a laboratory as any concealed within the animal organisms? yet death comes to these plants with equal certainty, and presents equally perplexing mysteries. when dies the flower? when plucked and separated from its natural supply or when it begins to fade (a period made more or less variable by the care given it), or when it ceases to emit its odor? and is then death a matter of hours? when the floral stem was snapped what else snapped with it? at what instant did the floral murder occur? every seed and every seedling possesses marvelous potentiality of life, and so long as it does we say it is not dead; nor yet is it alive. it resists considerable degrees of heat, will bear the lowest temperature, will remain latent for long periods, and still its cells will instantly respond to favoring stimuli. its actual life is apparently aroused by purely thermic and chemical (electrionic?) activities environing it. in what do its life and its death consist? but life and death are influenced--we say "strangely" only because it all seems strange to us--by uncommon or purely artificial conditions. radium emanations have always an injurious effect on embryonic development. under their influence, for example, the eggs of amphibia become greatly disturbed. cells that should specialize into nerve, ganglion and muscle fail to develop, and consequently there may be produced minute amphibian monsters, destitute of nerves and muscles, but otherwise nearly normal. hertwig has submitted the sperm-cells of sea urchins to these rays, without killing them, but invariably with consequent abnormal development. the effect of cathode or _x_-rays is even more widely recognized and has been more generally demonstrated. they seem to possess properties injurious to most cell-life and even fatal to some. still more puzzling, and weird in a way, are the results of experiments, now widely practiced, which have to do with juggling, as it were, with ova, larvæ and embryos, by all imaginable combinations of subdivision and reattachment of parts, so that there have resulted all kinds of monstrosities and abnormalities. to such an extent has this laboratory play been carried that almost any desired product can be furnished--living creatures with two heads, two tails, or whatever combination may be determined. among the most remarkable of these efforts have been those of vianney, of lyons, who has shown that it is possible to remove the head end of several different insect larvæ without preventing their development and metamorphosis into the butterfly stage. in _bombyx_ larvæ, for example, the butterflies arrived at the mature stage, with streaked wings and beautiful coloration, but almost headless. these anencephalous insects lived for some time. few animals survive exposures of any length to a temperature much over f., and most of them are killed by considerably less heat. freezing has always been considered equally fatal. gangrene is the common result of freezing a part of the human body, and that means local death. extraordinary pains must be taken with a frozen ear or finger if its vitality is to be restored. and so even with the hibernating, or the cold-blooded animals, a really low temperature has been generally regarded as fatal. but the recent experiments of pictet, who did so much in the production of exceedingly low temperatures, freezing of gases, etc., have shown some startling results in the failure to kill goldfish and other of the lower animals by refrigeration. for instance, goldfish were placed in a tank whose water was gradually frozen while the fish were still moving therein. the result was a cake of ice with imprisoned supposedly dead fish. this ice was then reduced to a still lower temperature, at which it was maintained for over two months. it was then very slowly thawed out, whereupon the fish came to life and moved in apparently their normal and natural ways as if nothing had happened. this confirms pictet's early experiments and convictions, that if the chemical reactions of living organisms can be suspended without causing organic lesions the phenomena of life will temporarily disappear, to return when conditions are again as usual. it is worth relating that his fish frozen in this way could be broken in small pieces just as if they were part of the ice itself. how often during these recent decades when events have seemed to move faster, when discoveries and inventions have been announced at such frequent and brief intervals that we fail to note them all for lack of time, when haste and rush characterize habits alike of life and thought, do we find that we simply must stop, as it were for breath, while we unload a large amount of accumulated mental rubbish and clear a space in our storage capacity for up-to-date knowledge! it is a decennial mental house-cleaning process. we must unlearn so much of that which ten to forty years ago we so laboriously learned. we must adopt new and improved reasoning processes. but it is hard to do all this. for instance, as a boy i learned the old chemistry quite thoroughly. during a subsequent interval, when i did not need to study it, came the new chemistry, and when i again required it i had not only to study a practically new science--which was not so bad--but to rid my brain of much that had really found firm lodgment there, and this was difficult or impossible. so it is with one who, having been brought up on euclidean geometry, finds himself confronted with the comparatively new non-euclidean, and who has then not merely to forget, but to unlearn all those fundamental axioms which seemed so plain and so indisputable, that is, if he would accept the teachings of bolyai and others. for example, that a straight line is not necessarily the shortest route between two points shocks our euclidean orthodoxy, and is at the same time, _to us_, inconceivable; as also that parallel lines indefinitely prolonged _may_ touch, and the like; likewise the concept of four-dimensional spaces, or worse yet, _n_-dimensional. and now, in somewhat like manner and to a certain degree, must we revise our previous conceptions of death, at least to this extent: not that we yet know much better than we did what it really is, but that we know more about what it is not. even save, perhaps, in its instantaneous happening it is _but a step_ toward dissolution, usually not the first, certainly not the last, but yet the most conspicuous. death is in many respects a biochemical fact. it is so intertwined with ionic changes in the arrangement of matter that we may hope for more information regarding some of its aspects as knowledge of the latter accumulates. but, evidently, we need to clarify our notions as we rearrange our facts. somatic death is, after all, a most complex process. it may be shortened by instant and complete incineration, but scarcely in any other way. even dynamite would scarcely simplify the problem. as to conscious death, that is _probably_ (though not certainly) a matter of seconds only or possibly fractions of a second. while we have no accurate appreciation of what constitutes consciousness, nor even just where it resides, the central nervous system appears to be its most probable seat. but conscious death may occur almost instantly without injury to this system, as when a bullet passes through the thorax and the heart, without injuring the spine. but what is it that suddenly checks all concerted and interdependent activity? or does something or some controlling agency suddenly leave the body? a recent theory, having features to commend it, is to the effect that life is a property or a feature of the ultimate _corpuscles_ which compose the atom. since these corpuscles bear to their containing atom a relative size comparable to that of the tiniest visible insect winging its way in a large church edifice, the intricacies of this particular theory readily appear. but it does seem as though among ourselves life has much to do with the hitherto neglected and despised nitrogen atom or molecule, since life inheres _par excellence_ in nitrogen compounds. moreover, _vitality is conspicuously a feature of those chemical elements which have the lowest atomic weight_, while at the other end of the table of atomic weights stands radium, of whose destructive emanations i have already spoken. another phase of the general subject of thanatology was suggested especially by osier, who a few years ago called attention to the fact that but few, if any patients really die of the disease from which they have been suffering. this is not a paradox, and needs only reason and observation to confirm it. his statement was a preliminary to the consideration of terminal infections and toxemias, which of itself would be sufficient to erect thanatology into a dignified special study. take, for instance, a patient who has long suffered from diabetes. the end is characterized by coma, i. e., an evidence of profound toxemia, and is in large measure due to acetonemia. a patient with chronic bright's disease dies of uremic poisoning, or one with pneumonia dies of genuine heart-failure. the terminal stage of cancer is, again, toxemia of one kind or another, according as it has interfered with digestion, with respiration, or some other vital function, or has broken down, thus saturating the patient with septic products. this aspect of the subject will bear any amount of study and elaboration, and its mention here should be sufficient for my purpose. accordingly as it is properly appreciated, it will be recognized as having an important practical bearing, since, if we may foresee the direction from which the final danger threatens, it may be the better and the longer averted. another very important and practical subject is wrapped up in this one, namely, the utilization of apparently dead, or at least of only potentially living material (tissue) in the various methods of grafting or transplantation, which are to-day a part of the surgeon's work. the methods are themselves a transplantation of experiences gained by work in the vegetable kingdom. what wonder that the marvels revealed in one department should have incited work along parallel lines in the other? that flowers and fruit of one kind may be made to grow on a tree of a very different kind excites but a small amount of the astonishment it deserves, mainly because it is now a common occurrence, though properly regarded it might seem a miracle. differing only in minor respect is, for example, the removal of thyroidal tissue from one human being and its implantation into another, with functional success. one may ask just here, how is this matter concerned with thanatology? and the reply is: if this tissue were taken from a fresh corpse it would be by most people regarded as dead tissue. if so, does the dead come to life? without violating the proper scientific use of the imagination one may fancy something like the following: let a healthy young woman meet accidental and instantaneous death. it would be possible to use no inconsiderable portion of her body for grafting or other justifiable surgical procedures. the arteries and nerves could be used, both in the fresh state, and the former even after preservation, for suitable transplantation or repair work on the vascular and nervous systems of a considerable number of other people. so also could the thyroid, the cornea, the ovaries and especially the bones. all the teeth, if healthy, could be reimplanted. with the thin bones, ribs especially, plastic operations--particularly on the noses--of fifty people could be made. and then the exterior of the body could be made to supply any amount of normal integument with which to do heterologous dermatoplastic operations, or would furnish an almost inexhaustible supply of epidermis for thiersch grafts, which latter material need not be used in the fresh state, but could be preserved and made available some days and even weeks later. a portion of the muscles might possibly be made available for checking oozing from bleeding surfaces of others, if used while still fresh and warm, and possibly portions of the ureters or some other portion of the remains might be utilized for some unusual purpose. then what extracts or extractives might be prepared from other parts of the body, pituitary, adrenals, bone-marrow, etc.? the tendons might also be prepared for sutures. every one of these procedures would give promise of success, the technic being in every respect satisfactory. but the possible limit is not yet reached, since with each kidney might be carried out experiments like those feats of physiologic jugglery such as carrel has shown us, by implanting one, say in the neck, connecting up the renal with the carotid artery, and the renal vein with the jugular, while some receptacle would have to be provided as a terminal for the ureter. this is, after all, not a fantastic dream, nor such an extreme picture as would at first appear, since every organ or tissue above-mentioned--and more--has been used as indicated, and with success. but imagine the dead body affording viable products, even indirectly life itself, to (possibly) so many others! does this complicate the study of death? and what must become of the simple credulous faith of the zealot who believes in the actual and absolute resurrection, at some later date? there is something more than mere transcendentalism in the science of thanatology; it has a plausible medico-legal and pragmatic import. right glad should i be if i might arouse a deserved interest in it. how may i more fittingly conclude than by quoting a few lines from our own bryant's "thanatopsis": "earth that nourished thee, shall claim thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, and, lost each human trace, surrendering up thine individual being, shalt thou go to mix forever with the elements." though were i minded to rehearse certain difficulties met in the preparation of this paper, which i have long had in mind, i might also add the following lines from the same poet's "hymn to death": "alas! i little thought that the stern power whose fateful praise i sung, would try me thus before the strain was ended." one may well quote, at this point, lamartine, who asked, "what is life but a series of preludes to that mystery whose initial solemn note is tolled by death?" (on this theme liszt built up that wonderful symphonic tone poem "les preludes.") even infinity is now questioned by the mathematicians. this being the case, where shall we, where can _we_ stop? note.--while writing the foregoing paper there came to my notice the recent book "death; its causes and phenomena," by carrington and meader (london, ). it is interesting, but save that it contains a helpful bibliography, is of little assistance to one wishing to pursue the study from its pragmatic aspect. one of the authors is committed to a personal theory that death is caused by cessation of the vibrations which during life maintain vital activity; the other that death is, as it were, the culmination of a bad habit of expectancy that something of the kind must occur, into which we have fallen, in spite of the fact that other living beings below man undergo the same fate, though not capable of expecting anything. iii serpent-myths and serpent-worship[ ] [ ] a presidential address before the buffalo society of natural sciences. since the dawn of written history, and from the most remote periods, the serpent has been regarded with the highest veneration as the most mysterious of living creatures. being alike an object of wonder, admiration and fear, it is not strange that it became early connected with numerous superstitions; and when we remember how imperfectly understood were its habits we shall not wonder at the extraordinary attributes with which it was invested, nor perhaps even why it obtained so general a worship. thus centuries ago horapollo referring to serpent symbolism, said: "when the egyptians were representing a universe they delineated the spectacle as a variegated snake devouring its own tail, the scales intimating the stars in the universe, the animal being extremely heavy, as is the earth, and extremely slippery like the water; moreover it every year puts off its old age with its skin as, in the universe, the recurring year effects a corresponding change, and becomes renovated, while the making use of its own body for food implies that all things whatever which are generated by divine providence in the world undergo a corruption into them again." in all probability the annual shedding of the skin and the supposed rejuvenation of the animal was that which first connected it with the idea of eternal succession of form, subsequent reproduction and dissolution. this doctrine is typified in the notion of the succession of ages which prevailed among the greeks, and the similar notion met with among nearly all primitive peoples. the ancient mysteries, with few or perhaps no exceptions, were all intended to illustrate the grand phenomena of nature. the mysteries of osiris, isis and horus in egypt; of cybele in phrygia, of ceres and proserpine at eleusis, of venus and adonis in phoenicia, of bona dea and of priapus in rome, all had this in in common, that they both mystified and typified the creation of things and the perpetuation of life. in all of them the serpent was conspicuously introduced as it symbolized and indicated the invigorating energy of nature. in the mysteries of ceres, the grand secret which was communicated to the initiates was put in this enigma,--"the bull has begotten a serpent and the serpent a bull," the bull being a prominent emblem of generative force. in ancient egypt it was usually the bull's horns which served as a symbol for the entire animal. when with the progress of centuries the bull became too expensive an animal to be commonly used for any purpose, the ram was substituted; hence the frequency of the ram's horns, as a symbol for jove, seen so frequently, for example, among roman antiquities. originally fire was taken to be one of the emblems of the sun, and thus most naturally, inevitably and universally the sun came to symbolize the active, vivifying principle of nature. that the serpent should in time typify the same principle, while the egg symbolized the more passive or feminine element, is equally certain but less easy of explanation; indeed we are to regard the serpent as the symbol of the great hermaphrodite first principle of nature. "it entered into the mythology of every nation, consecrated almost every temple, symbolized almost every deity, was imagined in the heavens, stamped on the earth and ruled in the realms of eternal sorrow." for this animal was estimated to be the most spirited of all reptiles of fiery nature, inasmuch as it exhibits an incredible celerity, moving by its spirit without hands or feet or any of the external members by which other animals effect their motion, while in its progress it assumes a variety of forms, moving in a spiral course and darting forward with whatever degree of swiftness it pleases. the close relationship if not absolute identity among the early races of man between solar, phallic and serpent worship was most striking; so marked indeed as to indicate that they are all forms of a single worship. it is with the latter that we must for a little while concern ourselves. how prominent a place serpent worship plays in our own old testament will be remarked as soon as one begins to reflect upon it. the part played by the serpent in the biblical myth concerning the origin of man is the first and most striking illustration. in the degenerated ancient mysteries of bacchus some of the persons who took part in the ceremonies used to carry serpents in their hands and with horrid screams call "eva, eva;" the attendants were in fact often crowned with serpents while still making these frantic cries. in the sabazian mysteries the snake was permitted to slip into the bosom of the person to be initiated and then to be removed from below the clothing. this ceremony was said to have originated among the magi. it has been held that the invocation "eva" related to the great mother of mankind; even so good an authority as clemens of alexandria held to this opinion, but clemens also acknowledges that the name eva, when properly aspirated is practically the same as epha, or opha, which the greeks call ophis, which is, in english, serpent. in most of the other mysteries serpent rites were introduced and many of the names were extremely suggestive. the abaddon mentioned in the book of revelation is certainly some serpent deity, since the prefix ab, signifies not only father, but serpent. by zoroaster the expanse of the heavens and even nature itself was described under the symbol of the serpent. in ancient persia temples were erected to the serpent tribe, and festivals consecrated to their honor, some relic of this being found in the word basilicus, or royal serpent, which gives rise to the term basilica applied to the christian churches of the present era. the ethiopians, even, of the present day derive their name from the greek aithiopes, meaning the serpent gods worshipped long before them; again, the island of euboea signifies the serpent island and properly spelled should be oub-aia. the greeks claimed that medusa's head was brought by perseus, by which they mean the serpent deity, as the worship was introduced into greece by a people called peresians. the head of medusa denoted divine wisdom, while the island was sacred to the serpent. the worship of the serpent being so old, many places as well as races received names indicating the prevalence of this general superstition; but this is no time to catalogue names,--though one perhaps should mention ophis, oboth, eva in macedonia, dracontia, and last but not least, the name of eve and the garden of eden. seth was, according to some, a semi-divine first ancestor of the semites; bunsen has shown that several of the antedeluvian descendants of adam were among the phoenician deities; thus carthagenians had as god, yubal or jubal who would appear to have been the sun-god of esculapius; or, spelled more correctly, ju-baal, that is beauty of baal. whether or not the serpent symbol has a distinct phallic reference has been disputed, but the more the subject is broadly studied the more it would seem that such is the case. it must certainly appear that the older races had that form of belief with which the serpent was always more or less symbolically connected, that is, adoration of the male principle of generation, one of whose principal phases was undoubtedly ancestor worship, while somewhat later the race adored the female principle which they symbolized by the sacred tree so often alluded to in scripture as the assyrian grove. whether snakes be represented singly, coupled in pairs as in the well known caduceus or rod of esculaipius, or in the crown placed upon the head of many a god and goddess, or the many headed snake drinking from the jewelled cup, or a snake twisted around a tree with another approaching it, suggesting temptation and fall,--in all these the underlying principle is always the same. symbols of this character are met with not only in the temples of ancient egypt but in ruins antedating them in persia and the east; in the antiquities belonging to the races that first peopled what is now greece and italy, in the rock markings of india and of central europe, in the cromlechs of great britain and scandinavia, in the great serpent mound which still remains in ohio, and in many other mounds left by the mound builders of this country, in the ruins of central america and yucatan, and in the traditions and relics of the aztecs and toltecs,--in fact wherever antiquarian research has penetrated or where monuments of ancient peoples remain. there never has been so widespread a superstition, and no matter what later forms it may have assumed we must admit that it, first of all, and for a long time was man's tribute to the great, all powerful and unknown regenerative principle of nature, which has been deified again and again, and which always has been and always will be the greatest mystery within the ken of mankind. brown in his "great dionysiak myth" says the serpent has these points of connection with dionysus, ( ) as a symbol of and connected with wisdom, ( ) as a solar emblem, ( ) as a symbol of time and eternity, ( ) as an emblem of the earth, life, ( ) as connected with the fertilizing mystery, ( ) as a phallic emblem. referring to the last of these he says: "the serpent being connected with the sun, the earth, life and fertility, must needs be also a phallic emblem, and was appropriate to the cult of dionysos priapos." again, sir g. w. cox says, "it is unnecessary to analyze theories which profess to see in it worship of the creeping brute or the wide-spreading tree; a religion based upon the worship of the venomous reptile must have been a religion of terror. in the earliest glimpses which we have the serpent is the symbol of life and of love, nor is the phallic cultus in any respect a cult of the full grown branching tree." again, "this religion, void of reason, condemned in the wisdom of solomon, probably survived even babylonian captivity; certainly it was adopted by the sects of christians which were known as ophites, gnostics and nicolaitans." another learned author says: "by comparing the varied legends of the east and west in conjunction we obtain a full outline of the mythology of the ancients. it recognizes as the primary element of things two independent principles of nature, the male and female, and these, in characteristic union as the soul and body, constitute the great hermaphrodite deity, the one, the universe itself, consisting still of the two separate elements of its composition, modified though combined in one individual, of which all things are regarded but as parts." in fact the characteristics of all pagan deities, male or female, gradually mold into each other and at last into one or two; for as william jones has stated, it seems a well-founded opinion that the entire list of gods and goddesses means only the powers of nature, principally those of the sun, expressed in a variety of ways with a multitude of fanciful names. the creation is, in fact, human rather than a divine product in this sense, that it was suggested to the mind of man by the existence of things, while its method was, at least at first, suggested by the operation of nature; thus man saw the living bird emerge from the egg, after a certain period of incubation, a phenomenon equivalent to actual creation as apprehended by his simple mind. incubation obviously then associated itself with creation, and this fact will explain the universality with which the egg was received as a symbol in the earlier systems of cosmogony. by a similar process creation came to be symbolized in the form of a phallus, and so egyptians in their refinement of these ideas adopted as their symbol of the great first cause a scarabaeus, indicating the great hermaphroditic unity, since they believed this insect to be both male and female. they beautifully typified a part of this idea also in the adoration which they paid to the water lily, or _lotus_, so generally regarded as sacred throughout the east. it is the sublime and beautiful symbol which perpetually occurs in oriental mythology, and, as maurice has stated, not without substantial reason, for it is its own beautiful progeny and contains a treasure of physical instruction. the lotus flower grows in the water among broad leaves, while in its center is formed a seed vessel shaped like a bell, punctured on the top with small cavities in which its seeds develop; the openings into the seed cells are too small to permit the seeds to escape when ripe, consequently they absorb moisture and develop within the same, shooting forth as new plants from the place where they originated; the bulb of the vessel serving as a matrix which shall nourish them until they are large enough to burst open and release themselves, after which they take root wherever deposited. "the plant, therefore, being itself productive of itself, vegetating from its own matrix, being fostered in the earth, was naturally adopted as a symbol of the productive power of the waters upon which the creative spirit of the creator acted, in giving life and vegetation to matter. we accordingly find it employed in every part of the northern hemisphere where symbolical religion, improperly called idolatry, existed." further exemplification of the same underlying principle is seen in the fact that most all of the ancient deities were paired; thus we have heaven and earth, sun and moon, fire and earth, father and mother, etc. faber says "the ancient pagans of almost every part of the globe were wont to symbolize the world by an egg, hence this symbol is introduced into the cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are few persons even among those who have made mythology their study to whom the mundane egg is not perfectly familiar; it is the emblem not only of earth and life but also of the universe in its largest extent." in the island of cyprus is still to be seen a gigantic egg-shaped vase which is supposed to represent the mundane or orphic egg. it is of stone, measuring thirty feet in circumference, and has upon it a sculptured bull, the emblem of productive energy. it is supposed to signify the constellation of taurus, whose rising was connected with the return of the mystic re-invigorating principle. the work of the mound builders in this country is generally and widely known, still it is perhaps not so generally known how common upon this continent was the general use of the serpent symbol. their remains are spread over the country from the sources of the allegheny in n. y. state westward to iowa and nebraska, to a considerable extent through the mississippi valley, and along the susquehanna as far as the valley of wyoming in pennsylvania. they are found even along the st. lawrence river; they also line the shore of the gulf from florida to texas. that they were erected for other than defensive purposes is most clear; without knowing exactly what was the government of their builders the presumption is that it combined both the priestly and civil functions, as obtained centuries ago in mexico. the great serpent mound, already alluded to, had a length of at least , feet; the outline was perfectly regular and the mouth was widely open as if in the act of swallowing or ejecting an oval figure, also formed of earth, whose longest diameter was one hundred and sixty feet. again near granville, ohio, occurs the form of an alligator in connection with which was indubitable evidence of an altar. near tarlton, ohio, is another earth work in the form of a cross. there is every reason to think that sacrifices were made upon the altars nearly always found in connection with these mounds. among the various animal effigies found in wisconsin, mounds in the form of a serpent are most frequently met with, while circles enclosing a pentagon, or a mound with eight radiating points, undoubtedly representing the sun, were also found. there would seem in all these representations to be an unmistakable reference to that form of early cosmogony in which every vivification of the mundane egg constituted a real act of creation. in japan this conceptive egg is allegorically represented by a nest-egg shown floating upon an expanse of water, against which a bulb is striking with horns. the sandwich islanders have a tradition that a bird, which with them is an emblem of deity, laid an egg upon the waters, which burst of itself and thus produced the islands. in egypt, kneph was represented as a serpent emitting from his mouth an egg, from which proceeds the divinity phtha. in the bible there is frequent reference to seraphs; se ra ph is the singular of seraphim, meaning, splendor, fire or light. it is emblematic of the fiery sun, which under the name of the serpent dragon was destroyed by the reformer hezekiah; or, it means, also, the serpent with wings and feet, as used to be represented in funeral rituals. undoubtedly abraham brought with him from chaldea into lower egypt symbols of simple phallic deities. the reference in the bible to the teraphim of jacob's family reminds us that terah was the name of abraham's father, and that he was a maker of images. undoubtedly the teraphim were the same as the seraphim; that is, were serpent images and were the household charms of the semitic worshippers of the sun-god, to whom the serpent was sacred. in numbers, , the serpent symbol of the exodus is called a seraph; moreover when the people were bitten by a fiery serpent moses prayed for them, when jehovah replied, "make them a fiery serpent, (literally seraph) and set it upon a pole, and it shall come to pass that every one who is bitten when he looketh upon it shall live." the exact significance of this healing figure of the serpent is far to seek. in this connection it must be remembered also, that among several of the semitic tongues the same root signifies both serpent and phallus, which are both in effect solar emblems. cronus of the ancient orphic theogony, probably identical with hercules, was represented under the mixed emblem of a lion and a serpent, or often as a serpent alone. he was originally considered supreme, as is shown from his being called il, which is the same as the hebrew, el, which was, according to st. jerome, one of the ten names of god. damascius in his life of isidorus mentions that cronus was worshipped under the name of el. brahm, cronus and kneph each represented the mystical union of the reciprocal or active and passive regenerative principles. the semitic deity, seth, was certainly a serpent god, and can be identified with saturn and with deities of other people. the common name of god, _eloah_, among the hebrews and other semites, goes back into the earliest times; indeed bryant goes so far as to say that el was the original name of the supreme deity among all the nations of the east. he was the same as cronus, who again was the primeval saturn. thus saturn and el were the same deity, and like seth were symbolized by the serpent. on the western continent this great unity was equally recognized; in mexico as teotl, in peru as varicocha or the soul of the universe, in central america and yucatan as stunah ku, or god of gods. the mundane egg was everywhere received as the symbol of the original, passive, unorganized formless nature, and later became associated with other symbols referring to the creative force or vitalizing influence, which was often represented in emblem by a bull. in the aztec pantheon all the other gods and goddesses were practically modified impersonations of these two principles. in the simpler mythology of peru these principles took the form of the sun, and the moon his wife. among the ruins of uxmal are two long massive walls of stone thirty feet thick, whose inner sides are embellished with sculpture containing fragments of colossal entwined serpents which run the whole length of the walls; in the center of the wall was a great stone ring. among the annals of the mexicans the woman whose name old spanish writers translated "the woman of our fish" is always represented as accompanied by a great male serpent. this serpent is the sun-god, the principal deity of the mexican pantheon, while the name which they give to the goddess mother of primitive man signifies "woman of the serpent." inseparably connected with the serpent as a phallic emblem are also the pyramids, and, as is well known, pyramids abound in mexico and central america. as humboldt years ago observed pyramids existed through mexico, in the forests of papantha at a short distance above sea-level; on the plains of cholula and of teotihuacan, and at an elevation which exceeds those of the passes of the alps. in most widely different nations, in climates most different, man seems to have adopted the same style of construction, the same ornaments, the same customs, and to have placed himself under the government of the same political institutions. mayer describing one of his trips says, "i constantly saw serpents in the city of mexico, carved in stone and in the various collections of antiquities." the symbolic feathered serpent was by no means peculiar to mexico and yucatan. squier encountered it in nicaragua on the summits of volcanic ridges; even among our historic indian tribes, for example among the lenni lenape, they called the rattlesnake "grandfather," and made offerings of tobacco to it. furthermore in most of the indian traditions of the manitou the great serpent figures most conspicuously. it has been often remarked that every feature of the religion of the new world discovered by cortez and pizarro indicates a common origin for the superstitions of both continents, for we have the same worship of the sun, the same pyramidal monuments, and the same universal veneration of the serpent. thus it will be seen that the serpent symbol had a wide acceptance upon this continent as well as the other, and among the uncivilized and semi-barbaric races; that it entered widely into all symbolic representation with an almost universal significance. perhaps the latest evidences of the persistence of this belief may be seen in the tradition ascribing to st. patrick, the credit of having driven all the serpents from irish soil; or in the perpetuation of rites, festivals and representations whose obsolete origin is now forgotten. for instance the annual may-day festival, scarcely yet discontinued, is certainly of this origin, yet few if any of those who participate in it are aware that it is only the perpetuation of the vernal solar festival of baal, and that the garlanded may-pole was anciently a phallic emblem. among men of my own craft the traditions of aesculapius are familiar. aesculapius is, however, inseparably connected with the serpent myth and in statues and pictures he is almost always represented in connection with a serpent. thus he is seen with the caduceus or the winged wand entwined by two serpents, or, sometimes with serpents' bodies wound around his own; but rarely ever without some serpent emblem. moreover the caduceus is identical with the simple figure of the cross by which its inventor, thoth, is said to have symbolized the four elements proceeding from a common center. in connection with the cross it is interesting also that in many places in the east serpent worship was not immediately destroyed by the advent of christianity. the gnostics for example, among christian sects, united it with the religion of the cross, as might be shown by many quotations from religious writers. the serpent clinging to the cross was used as a symbol of christ, and a form of christian serpent worship was for a long time in vogue among many beside the professed ophites. in the celebration of the bacchic mysteries the mystery of religion, as usual throughout the world, was concealed in a chest or box. the israelites had their sacred ark, and every nation has had some sacred receptacle for holy things and symbols. the worshippers of bacchus carried in their consecrated baskets the mystery of their god, while after their banquet it was usual to pass around the cup which was called "the cup of the good daemon," whose symbol was a serpent. this was long before the institution of the rite of the last supper. the fable of the method by which the god aesculapius was brought from epidaurus to rome, and the serpentine form in which he appeared before his arrival in rome for the purpose of checking the terrible pestilence, are well known. the serpentine column which still stands in the old race course in constantinople is certainly a relic of serpent worship, though this fact was not appreciated by constantine when he set it up. the significance of the ark is not to be overlooked. first, noah was directed to take with him into the ark animals of every kind. but this historical absurdity, read aright and in its true phallic sense, means that the ark was the sacred argha of hindoo mythology, which like the moon in zoroastrian teachings, carries in itself the germ of all things. read in this sense the thing is no longer incomprehensible. as _en arche_ (in the beginning) elohim created the heavens and the earth, so in the ark were the seeds of all things preserved that they might again repopulate the earth. thus this ark of noah, or of osiris, the primeval ship whose navigation has been ascribed to various mythological beings, was in fact the moon or the ship of the sun, in which his seed is supposed to be hidden until it bursts forth in new life and power. but the dove which figures so conspicuously in the biblical legend was consecrated to venus in all her different names, in babylon, in syria, in palestine and in greece; it even attended upon janus in his voyage of the golden fleece. and so the story of jonah going to joppa, a seaport where dagon, the fish-god was worshipped, and of the great fish, bears a suspicious relation to the same cult, for the fish was revered at joppa as was the dove at nineveh. it has been impossible to dissociate serpent and serpent worship from aesculapius. this is not because this mythological divinity is supposed to have been the founder of my profession, but because he has been given at all times a serpentine form and has been, apparently, on the most familiar terms with the animal. pausanias, indeed, assures us that he often appeared in serpentine form, and the roman citizens of two thousand years ago saw in this god "in reptilian form an object of high regard and worship." when this divinity was invited to make rome his home, in accordance with the oracle, he is represented as saying: "i come to leave my shrine; this serpent view, that with ambitious play my staff encircles; mark him every way; his form though larger, nobler, i'll assume, and, changed as god's should be, bring aid to rome." (ovid: metamorphosis xv). when in due time this salutary serpent arrived upon the island in the tiber he began to assume his natural form, whatever that may have been; "and now no more the drooping city mourns, joy is again restored and health returns." considering then the intimate relation between the founder of medicine and the serpent it will not seem strange to you that the serpent myth is a subject of keen interest to every student of the history of medicine. this devotion to serpent worship appears to have lingered a long time in italy, for so late as the year a bronze serpent on the basillica of st. ambrose was worshipped. de gubernatis speaking of it says, "some say it was the serpent aesculapius, others moses, others that it was the image of christ; for us it is enough to remark that it was a mythological serpent before which the milanese mothers offered their children when they suffered from worms, in order to relieve them," a practice which was finally suppressed by san carlo. moreover, there has persisted until recently what is called a snake festival in a little mountain church near naples, where those participating carry snakes around their persons, the purpose of the festival being to preserve the participants from poison and sudden death and bring them good fortune. (sozinskey). the power of the sun over health and disease was long ago recognized in the old chaldean hymn in which the sun is petitioned thus: "thou at thy coming cure the race of man; cause the ray of health to shine upon him; cure his disease." probably some feeling akin to that voiced in this way gave rise to the following beautiful passage in malachi ( : ): "the sun of righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings." as a purely medical symbol the serpent is meant to symbolize prudence; long ago men were enjoined to be "as wise as serpents" as well as harmless as doves. in india the serpent is still regarded as a symbol of every species of learning. it has also another medical meaning, namely, _convalescence_, for which there is afforded some ground in the remarkable change which it undergoes every spring from a state of lethargy to one of active life. according to ferguson, the experience of moses and the children of israel with brazen serpents led to the first recorded worship paid to the serpent, which is also noteworthy, since the cause of this adoration is said to have been its intrinsic healing power. the prototype of the brazen serpent of moses in latter times was the good genius, the _agathodaemon_ of the greeks, which was regarded always with the greatest favor and usually accorded considerable power over disease. the superstitious tendency to regard disease and death as the visitation of a more or less capricious act by some extra mundane power persists even to the present day. for example, in the episcopal book of common prayer, it is stated, in the order for the visitation of the sick, "wherefore, whatsoever your sickness be, know you certainly that it is god's visitation," while for relief the following sentiment is formulated in prayer, "lord look down from heaven, behold, visit and relieve these, thy servants," thus voicing the very ideas which were current among various peoples of remote antiquity and eliminating all possibility of such a thing as the regulation of disease or of sanitary medicine. iv iatro-theurgic symbolism[ ] [ ] an address before the maine medical association, portland, june nd, . so soon as had subsided the feeling of surprise, caused by a most unexpected invitation to address you to-night, i began at once to cast about for a subject with which i might endeavor so to interest you as to justify the high and appreciated compliment which this invitation mutely conveyed. and so, after considerable reflection, it appeared to me that it was perhaps just as well that medical men should be entertained, even at such a gathering as this, by something which if not _of_ the profession was at least _for_ the profession, and still not too remote from the purposes which have drawn us together. accordingly i decided to forsake the beaten path and, instead of selecting a topic in pathology or in surgery, upon which i could possibly speak with some familiarity, to invite your attention to a subject which has always been of the greatest interest to me, yet upon which it has been hard, without great labor and numerous books, to get much information. if i were to attempt to formulate this topic under a distinctive name i could perhaps call it _medico-christian_ symbolism. it is well known to scholars that practically all of the symbols and symbolism of christianity have come from pagan sources, having been carried over, as one might say, across the line of the christian era, from one to the other, in the most natural and unavoidable way, although most of these symbols and caricatures have more or less lost their original signification and have been given another of purely christian import. to acknowledge that this is so is to cast no slur upon christianity; it is simply recording an historical fact. it would take me too far from my purpose to-night were i to go into the reasons which brought about this change; i simply want to disavow all intention of making light of serious things, or of reflecting in any way upon the nobility of the christian church, its meanings or its present practices. but, accepting the historical fact that christian symbols were originally pagan caricatures, i want to ask you to study with me for a little while the original signification of these pagan symbols, feeling that i can perhaps, interest you in such a study providing that it can be shown that almost all of these emblems had originally an essentially medical significance, referring in some way or other either to questions of health and disease, or else to the deeper question of the origin of mankind and the great generative powers of nature, at which physicians to-day wonder as much as they did two thousand years ago. considering then the medical significance of such study i have been tempted to incur the charge of being pedantic and have coined the term _iatro-theurgic symbolism_, which title i shall give to the essay which i shall present to you to-night. as inman says, "moderns who have not been initiated in the sacred mysteries and only know the emblems considered sacred, have need of both anatomical knowledge and physiological lore ere they can see the meaning of many signs." the emblems or symbols then, to which i shall particularly allude, are the _cross_, the _tree_ and _grove_, the _fish_, the _dove_, and the _serpent_. and first of all the cross, about which very erroneous notions prevail. it is seen everywhere either as a matter of personal or church adornment, or as an architectural feature, and everywhere the impression prevails that it is exclusively a christian symbol. this, however, is the grossest of errors, for the world abounds in cruciform symbols and monuments which existed long before christianity was thought of. it is otherwise however with the crucifix which is, of course, an absolutely christian symbol. the image of a dead man stretched out upon the cross is a purely christian addition to a purely pagan emblem, though some of the old hindoo crosses remind one of it very powerfully. no matter upon which continent we look we see everywhere the same cruciform sign among peoples and races most distinct. there perhaps has never been so universal a symbol, with the exception of the serpent. moreover the cross is a sort of international feature, and is spoken of in its modifications as st. andrew's, st. george's, the maltese, the greek, the latin, etc. probably because of its extreme simplicity the ages have brought but little change in its shape, and the bauble of the jeweller of to-day is practically the same sign that the ancient egyptian painted upon the mummy cloth of his sacred dead. thus it will appear that the shadow of the cross was cast far back into the night of ages. the druids consecrated their sacred oak by cutting it into the shape of a cross, and when the natural shape of the tree was not sufficient it was pieced out as the case required. when the spaniards invaded this continent they were overcome with surprise at finding the sign of the cross everywhere in common use. it was by the community of this emblem between the two peoples that the spaniards enjoyed a less war-like reception than would otherwise have been accorded to them. that the cross was originally a phallic emblem is proven, among other things, by the origin of the so-called maltese cross, which originally was carved out of solid granite, and represented by four huge phalli springing from a common center, which were afterward changed by the knights of st. john of malta into four triangles meeting at a central globe; thus we see combined the symbol of eternal and the emblem of constantly renovating life. the reason why the maltese cross had so distinctly a phallic origin, and why the knights of st. john saw fit to make something more decent of it, is not clear, but a study of assyrian antiquities of the days of nineveh and babylon shows that it referred to the four great gods of the assyrian pantheon, and that with a due setting it signifies the sun ruling both the earth and heavens. schliemann discovered many examples of it on the vases which he exhumed from the ruins of troy. but probably the most remarkable of all crosses is that which is exceedingly common upon egyptian monuments and is known as the _crux-ansata_, that is the handled cross, which consisted of the ordinary greek _tau_ or cross, with a ring on the top. when the egyptian was asked what he meant by this sign he simply replied that it was a divine mystery, and such it has largely remained ever since. it was constantly seen in the hands of isis and osiris. in nearly the same shape the spaniards found it when they first came to this continent. the natives said that it meant "life to come." in the british museum one may see, in the assyrian galleries, effigies in stone of certain kings from whose necks are suspended sculptured maltese crosses, such as the catholics call the pectoral cross. in egypt, long before christ, the sacred ibis was represented with human hands and feet, holding the staff of isis in one hand and the cross in the other. the ancient egyptian astronomical signs of planets contained numerous crosses. saturn was represented by a cross surmounting a ram's horn; jupiter by a cross beneath a horn, venus by a cross beneath a circle (practically the crux-ansata), the earth by a cross within the circle, and mars by a circle beneath the cross; many of these signs are in use to-day. between the buddhist crosses of india and those of the roman church are remarkable resemblances; the former were frequently placed upon a calvary as is the catholic custom to-day. the cross is found among the hieroglyphics of china and upon chinese pagodas, and upon the lamps with which they illuminated their temples. upon the ancient phoenician medals were inscribed the cross, the rosary and the lamb. in england there has been for a long time the custom of eating the so-called hot-cross buns upon good friday:--this is no more than a reproduction of a cake marked with a cross which used to be duly offered to the serpent and the bull in heathen temples, as also to human idols. it was made of flour and milk, or oil, and was often eaten with much ceremony by priests and people. perhaps the most ancient of all forms of the cross is the cruciform hammer known sometimes as thor's battle ax. in this form it was venerated by the heroes of the north as a magical sign, which thwarted the power of death over those who bore it. even to-day it is employed by the women of india and certain parts of africa as indicating the possession of a taboo with which they protect their property. it has been stated that this was the mark which the prophet was commanded to impress upon the foreheads of the faithful in judah. (ezekiel : ). it is of interest also as being almost the last of the purely pagan symbols to be religiously preserved in europe long after the establishment of christianity, since to the close of the middle ages the cistercean monk wore it upon his stole. it may be seen upon the bells of many parish churches, where it was placed as a magical sign to subdue the vicious spirit of the tempest. the original cross, no matter what its form, had but one meaning; it represented creative power and eternity. in egypt, assyria and britain, in india, china and scandinavia, it was an emblem of life and immortality; upon this continent it was the sign of freedom from suffering, and everywhere it symbolized resurrection and life to come. moreover from its common combination with the yoni or female emblem, we may conclude, with inman, that the ancient cross was an emblem of the belief in a male creator and the method by which creation was initiated. next to the cross, the _tree of life_ of the egyptians furnishes perhaps the most ancient and universal symbol of immortality. the tree is probably the most generally received symbol of life, and has been regarded as the most appropriate. the fig tree especially has had the highest place in this regard. from it gods and holy men ascended to heaven; before it thousands of barren women have worshipped and made offerings; under it pious hermits have become enlightened, and by rubbing together fragments of its wood, holy fire has been drawn from heaven. an anonymous catholic writer has stated, "no religion is founded upon international depravity. searching back for the origin of life, men stopped at the earliest point to which they could trace it and exalted the reproductive organs in the symbols of the creator. the practice was at least calculated to procure respect for a side of nature liable, under an exclusively spiritual regime, to be relegated to undue contempt. * * * even moses himself fell back upon it when, yielding to a pressing emergency, he gave his sanction to serpent worship by his elevation of the brazen serpent upon a pole or cross, for all portions of this structure constituted the most universally accepted symbol of sex in the world." as perfectly consistent with the ancient doctrine that deity is both male and female take this thought from proclus, who quotes the following among other orphic verses: "jupiter is a man; jupiter is also an immortal maid;" while in the same commentary we read that "all things were contained in the womb of jupiter." in this connection it was quite customary to depict jupiter as a female, sometimes with three heads; often the figure was drawn with a serpent and was venerated under the symbol of fire. it was then called mythra and was worshipped in secret caverns. the rites of this worship were quite well known to the romans. the hermaphrodite element of religion is sex worship; gods are styled he-she; synesius gives an inscription on an egyptian deity, "thou art the father and thou art the mother; thou art the male and thou art the female." baal was of uncertain sex and his votaries usually invoked him thus, "hear us whether thou art god or goddess." heathens seem to have made their gods hermaphrodites in order to express both the generative and prolific virtue of their deities. i have myself heard one of the finest living hindoo scholars, a convert to christianity, invoke the god of the christian church both as father and as mother. the most significant and distinctive feature of nature worship certainly had to do with phallic emblems. this viewed in the light of ancient times simply represented allegorically that mysterious union of the male and female principle which seems necessary to the existence of animate beings. if, in the course of time, it sadly degenerated, we may lament the fact, while, nevertheless, not losing sight of the purity and exalted character of the original idea. of its extensive prevalence there is ample evidence, since monuments indicating such worship are spread over both continents and have been recognized in egypt, india, assyria, western europe, mexico, peru, hayti and the pacific islands. without doubt the generative act was originally considered as a solemn sacrament in honor of the creator. as knight has insisted, the indecent ideas later attached to it, paradoxical as it may seem, were the result of the more advanced civilization tending toward its decline, as we see in rome and pompeii. voltaire speaking of phallic worship says "our ideas of propriety lead us to suppose that a ceremony which appears to us so infamous could only be invented by licentiousness, but it is impossible to believe that depravity of manners would ever lead among any people to the establishment of religious ceremonies. it is probable, on the contrary, that this custom was first introduced in times of simplicity, and that the first thought was to honor a deity in the symbol of life which it gives us." the so-called jewish rite of circumcision was practiced among egyptians and phoenicians long before the birth of abraham. it had a marked religious significance, being a sign of the covenant, and was a patriarchal observance because it was always performed by the head of the family. indeed on the authority of the veda, we learn that this was the case also even among the primitive aryan people. later in the centuries, as patterson has observed, obscene methods became the principal feature of the popular superstition and were, in after times, even extended to and intermingled with gloomy rites and bloody sacrifices. the mysteries of ceres and bacchus celebrated at eleusis were probably the most celebrated of all the grecian observances. the addition of bacchus was comparatively a late one, and this name bacchus was first spelled iacchos; the first half, _iao_, being in all probability related to _jao_ which appears in jupiter or jovispater, and to the hebrew yahve, or jehovah. jao was the harvest god and consequently the god of the grape, hence his close relation to bacchus. how completely these eleusinian mysteries degenerated into bacchic orgies is of course a matter of written history. i have not yet alluded to the reverence paid to the fish, both as phallic emblem and as a christian symbol. the supposition that the reason why the fish played so large a part in early christian symbolism was because of the fact that each letter of the greek word _ichthus_ could be made the beginning of words which when fully spelled out, read jesus christ, the son of god, etc., is altogether too far-fetched; though it be true it is a scholastic trick to juggle with words in this way rather than to find for them a proper signification. among the egyptians and many other nations, the greatest reverence was paid to this animal. among the natives the rivers which contained them were esteemed more or less sacred; the common people did not feed upon them and the priests never tasted them, because of their reputed sanctity, while at times they were worshipped as real deities. cities were named after them and temples built to them. in different parts of egypt different fish were worshipped individually; the greek comedians even made fun of the egyptians because of this fact. dagon figures as the fish-god, and the female deity known as athor, in egypt, is undoubtedly the same as aphrodite of the greeks and venus of the romans, who were believed to have sprung from the sea. lucian tells us that this worship was of great antiquity; strange as this idolatry may appear, it was yet most wide-spread and included also the veneration which the egyptians, before moses, paid to the river nile. it is important to remember that nun, the name of the father of joshua, is the semitic word for fish, while the phallic character of the fish in chaldean mythology cannot be gainsaid. nim, the planet saturn, was the fish-god of berosus, and the same as the assyrian god asshur, whose name and office are strikingly similar to those of the hebrew leader joshua. corresponding to the ancient phallus or lingam, which was the masculine phallic symbol, we have the kteis or yoni as the symbol of the female principle; but an emblem of similar import is often to be met with in the shape of the shell, the fig leaf or the letter delta, as may be frequently seen from ancient coins and monuments. similar attributes were at other times expressed by a bird, using the dove or sparrow, which will at once make one think of the prominence given to the dove in the fable of noah and the ark. referring again to the fish symbol let me say that the head of proserpine is very often represented surrounded by dolphins; sometimes by pomegranates which also have a phallic significance. in fact, inman in his work on ancient faiths says of the pomegranate, "the shape of this fruit much resembles that of the gravid uterus in the female, and the abundance of seeds which it contains makes it a fitting emblem of the prolific womb of the celestial mother. its use was largely adopted in various forms of worship; it was united with bells in the adornment of the robes of the jewish high priest; it was introduced as an ornament into solomon's temple, where it was united with lilies and with the lotus." its arcane meaning is undoubtedly phallic. in fact, as inman has stated, the idea of virility was most closely interwoven with religion, though the english egyptologists have suppressed a portion of the facts in the history which they have given the world; but the practice which still obtains among certain negroes of northern africa of mutilating every male captive and slain enemy is but a continuance of the practice alluded to in the nd book of kings, : , isaiah, : , and st samuel : . frequently in sacred scripture we find allusions to the pillar as a most sacred emblem, as for example in isaiah : , "in that day there shall be an altar to the lord in the midst of the land of egypt and a pillar to the border thereof to jehovah," etc. moreover god was supposed to have appeared to his chosen people as a _pillar of fire_. nevertheless when among idolatrous nations _pillars_ were set up as a part of their rites we find them noticed in scripture as an _abomination_, as for example, deut. : , "ye shall overthrow their altars and break their pillars;" levit. : , "neither rear ye up a standing image." among the jews the pillar had much the same significance as the pyramid among the egyptians or the triangle or cone among votaries of other worships. the tower of babel must have been purely a mythical creation but in the same direction. although abraham is regarded as having emigrated from chaldea in the character of a dissenter from the religion of his country (see joshua : - ), his immediate descendants apparently had recourse to the symbols to which i have alluded. thus he erected altars and planted pillars wherever he resided, and conducted his son to the land of moriah to sacrifice him to the deity, as was done among the phoenicians. jeptha in like manner sacrificed his own daughter mizpeh, and the temple of solomon was supposed to have been built upon the site of abraham's ancient altar. jacob not only set up a pillar at the place which he called bethel but made libations; samuel worshipped at the high places at ramah, and solomon at the great stone in gibeon. it remained for hezekiah to change the entire hebrew cult. he removed the dionysiac statues and phallic pillars as well as the conical and omphallic symbols of venus and ashtaroth, broke in pieces the brazen serpent of moses and overthrew the mounds and altars. after him josiah removed the paraphernalia of sun worship and destroyed the statues and emblems of venus and adonis, ( nd kings, : - ). the greek hermes was identical with the egyptian khem, as well as with mercury and with priapus, also with the hebrew eloah; thus when jacob entered into a covenant with laban his father-in-law, a pillar was set up and a heap of stones made and a certain compact entered into; similar land marks were usual with the greeks and placed by them upon public roads. as mrs. childs has beautifully said, "other emblems deemed sacred by hindoos and worshipped in their temples have brought upon them the charge of gross indecencies. * * * if light with its grand revealings, and heat, making the earth fruitful with beauty, excited wonder and worship among the first inhabitants of our world, is it strange that they likewise regarded with reverence the great mystery of human birth? were they impure thus to regard it? or are _we_ impure that we do _not_ so regard it?" constant, in his work on roman polytheism says, "indecent rites may be practiced by religious people with the greatest purity of heart, but when incredulity has gained a footing among these peoples then those rites become the cause and pretext of the most revolting corruption." the phallic symbol was always found in temples of siva, who corresponds to baal, and was usually placed as are the most precious emblems of our christian temples to-day, in some inmost recess of the sanctuary. moreover lamps with seven branches were kept burning before it, these seven branched lamps long antedating the golden candlestick of the mosaic tabernacle. the jews by no means escaped the objective evidence of phallic worship; in ezekiel : , is a very marked allusion to the manufacture by jewish women of gold and silver phalli. as a purely phallic symbol and custom mark the significance of certain superstitions and practices even now prevalent in great britain. thus in boylase's _history of cornwall_ it is stated that there is a stone in the parish of mardon, with a hole in it fourteen inches in diameter, through which many persons creep for the relief of pains in the back and limbs, and through which children are drawn to cure them of rickets, this being a practical application of the doctrine of regeneration. in there was printed in the _london standard_ a considerable reference to passing children through clefts in trees as a curative measure for certain physical ailments. the same practice prevails in brazil and in many other places, and within the present generation it has been customary to split a young ash tree and, opening this, pass through it a child for the purpose of curing rupture or some other bodily ailment. the phallic element most certainly cannot be denied in christianity itself, since in it are many references which to the initiated are unmistakable. from the fall of man with its serpent myth and its phallic foundation to the peculiar position assigned to the virgin mary as a mother, phallic references abound. however, it should not be forgotten that whatever were the primitive ideas on which these dogmas were based, they had been lost sight of or had been received in a fresh aspect by the founders of christianity. the fish and the cross originally typified the idea of generation and later that of life, in which sense they were applied to christ. the most plainly phallic representation used in early christian iconography, is undoubtedly the _aureole_ or elliptical frame work, containing usually the figure of christ, sometimes that of mary. the nimbus also, generally circular but sometimes triangular, is of positive phallic significance, even though it contain within it the name of jehovah. the sun flowers which sometimes are made to surround the figure of st. john the evangelist are the lotus flowers of the egyptians. the divine hand with the thumb and two fingers outstretched, even though it rests on a cruciform nimbus, is a phallic emblem, and is used by the neapolitans of to-day to avert the evil eye, although it was originally a symbol of isis. indeed the virgin mary is the ancient isis, as can be most easily established, since the virgin "succeeded to her form, titles, symbols, rites and ceremonies." (king). the great image still moves in procession as when juvenal laughed at it, and her proper title is the exact translation of the sanskrit and the equivalent of the modern madonna, the lotus of isis, and the lily of the modern mary. indeed, as king has written, "it is astonishing how much of the egyptian symbolism passed over into usages of the following times." the high cap and hooked staff of the god became the bishop's mitre and crozier. the term nun is purely egyptian and bore its present meaning. the crux ansata, testifying the union of the male and female principle in the most obvious manner, and denoting fecundity and abundance, is transformed by a simple inversion into an orb surmounted by a cross, the ensign of royalty. the teaching of the church of rome regarding the virgin mary shows a remarkable resemblance to the teachings of the ancients concerning the female associate of the triune deity. in ancient times she has passed under many and diverse names; she was the virgin, conceiving and bringing forth from her own inherent power; she was the wife of nimrod; she has been known as athor, artemis, aphrodite, venus, isis, cybele, etc. as anaitis she is mother and child, appearing again as isis and horus; even in ancient mexico mother and child were worshipped. in modern times she reappears as the virgin mary and her son; she was queen of fecundity, queen of the gods, goddess of war, virgin of the zodiac, the mysterious virgin "time" from whose womb all things were born. although variously represented she has been usually pictured as a more or less nude figure carrying an infant in her arms. (inman, "ancient faiths"). inman declares without hesitation that the trinity of the ancients is unquestionably of phallic origin, and others have strenuously contended and apparently proven that the male emblem of generation in divine creation was three in one, and that the female emblem has always been the triangle or accepted symbol of trinity. sometimes two triangles have been combined forming a six-rayed star, the two together being emblematical of the union of the male and female principles producing a new figure; the triangle by itself with the point down typifies the delta or yoni through which all things come into the world. another symbol of deity among the indians was the trident, and this marks the belief in the trinity which very generally prevailed in india among the hindoos. as maurice says, "it was indeed highly proper and strictly characteristic that a three-fold deity should wield a triple scepter." upon the top of the immense pyramids of deoghur, which were truncated, and upon whose upper surface rested the circular cone--that ancient emblem of the phallus and of the sun, was found the trident scepter of the greek neptune. it is said that in india is to be found the most ancient form of trinitarian worship. in egypt it later prevailed widely, but scarcely any two states worshipped the same triad, though all triads had this in common at least that they were father, mother and son, or male and female with their progeny. in the course of time, however, the worship of the first person was lost or absorbed in the second and the same thing is prevalent among the christians of today, for many churches and institutions are dedicated to the second or third persons of the trinity but none to the first. the transition from the old to the new could not be effected in a short time and must have been an exceedingly slow process, therefore we need not be surprised to be told of the ancient worship that after its exclusion from larger places it was maintained for a long time by the inhabitants of humbler localities; hence its subsequent designation, since from being kept up in the villages, the _pagi_, its votaries, were designated _pagani_, or pagans. even now some of these ancient superstitions remain in recognizable form. the moon is supposed to exert a baneful or lucky influence according as it is first viewed; the mystic horse-shoe, which is a purely uterine symbol, is still widely employed; lucky and unlucky days are still regarded; our playing cards are indicated by phallic symbols, the spade, the triadic club, the omphallic distaff and eminence disguised as the heart and the diamonds. dionysius reappears as st. denys, or in france as st. bacchus; satan is revered as st. satur or st. swithin; the holy virgin, astraea, whose return was heralded by virgil as introducing the golden age, is now designated as the blessed virgin, queen of heaven. the mother and child are to-day in catholic countries adored as much as were ceres and bacchus, or isis and the infant horus, centuries ago. the nuns of christian to-day are the nuns of the buddhists or of the egyptian worshippers of isis, and the phallic import is not lost even in their case since they are the "brides of the savior." the libations of human blood which were formerly offered to bacchus found most tragic imitation in the sacrifices of later days. the screechings of the ancient prophets of baal, and of the egyptian worshippers, preceded the flagellations of the penitentes. even recently, during holy week in rome, devotees lash themselves until the blood runs, as did the young men in ancient rome during the lupercalia. and even yet in new mexico the indian _penitentes_ repeat the cruel flagellations and cross-bearing taught by the spanish priest, to the extent--sometimes--of an actual crucifixion. in the ancient roman catacombs are found portraits of the utensils and furniture of the ancient mysteries, and one drawing shows a woman standing before an altar offering buns to a certain god. in fact we may say there is no christian fast nor festival, procession nor sacrament, custom nor example, that do not come quite naturally from previous paganism. the creation is in fact a _human rather than a divine product_, in this sense that it was suggested to the mind of man by the existence of things, while its method was, at least at first, suggested by the operations of nature; thus man saw the living bird emerge from the egg, after a certain period of incubation, a phenomenon equivalent to actual creation as apprehended by his simple mind. incubation obviously then associated itself with creation, and this fact will explain the universality with which the egg was received as a symbol in the earlier systems of cosmogony. by a similar process creation came to be symbolized in the form of a phallus, and so the egyptians, in their refinement of these ideas, adopted as their symbol of the first great cause, a scarabaeus, indicating the great hermaphroditic unity since they believed this insect to be both male and female. further exemplification of the same underlying principle is seen in the fact that most all of the ancient deities were paired, thus we have heaven and earth, sun and moon, fire and earth, father and mother, etc. faber says,--"the ancient pagans of almost every part of the globe were wont to symbolize the world by an egg; hence this symbol is introduced into the cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are few persons even among those who have made mythology their study to whom the mundane egg is not perfectly familiar; it is the emblem not only of earth and life but also of the universe in its largest extent." i began this essay with the intention of demonstrating the recondite but positive connection between the symbolism of the church of to-day and the phallic and iatric cults of pre-christian centuries. (much of the subject matter contained in the previous essay (iii) may be profitably read in this connection). as a humble disciple of that aesculapius who was the reputed founder of our craft, i have felt that every genuine scholar in medicine should be familiar with these relations between the past and the present. v the relation of the grecian mysteries to the foundation of christianity ever since mentality has been an attribute of mankind, man has appreciated that he is surrounded by a vast incomprehensible mystery which ever closes in upon him, and from whose environment he may never free himself. the endeavor to solve this mystery has on one hand stimulated his reasoning power, and on the other nearly paralyzed it. having no better guidance he has in all time attributed to a great first cause powers and faculties, even shape and form, more or less human; thus from time immemorial god or the gods have been given a kingdom, a throne, some definite form, and even offspring. to him or them have been given purely human attributes, and they have been supposed to possess human passions and to be capable of love, wrath, strength, etc. in nearly all ages lightning, for instance, has been regarded as an expression of divine fury. as intelligence advanced the number of gods was reduced and their manifestations classified and studied more or less imaginatively; and so while men have always acknowledged the impossibility of explaining the great mysteries of creation and of space, they have seemed to find it necessary to create other equally inscrutable mysteries of purely human invention, such as the incarnation, the trinity, the resurrection, vicarious salvation, metempsychosis, and the like. history shows the love of mystery to be contagious as well as productive of its kind, and the origin of mystic teachings as well as of most secret societies bears out these statements. secrets, guarded by fearful oaths, personified by meaningless emblems, concealed either in language unintelligible to others, or else hidden in terms whose special meaning is known only to the initiated, made attractive by special signs, symbols, innocent rites, or barbarous observances,--all of these means were designed solely to keep men banded together for the purpose of forming a propaganda intended to perpetuate yet other mysteries in which the initiates were especially interested. since history began such associations of men have existed for most diverse ends, all having this in common, that only by this means could they secure and maintain influence and power. and so the series of pictures which represent man in this role may be regarded as a panorama, led by garlanded priests carrying images of isis or droning hymns to demeter of eleusis, or druids preparing for their human sacrifices; followed by gay and voluptuous bacchantes, succeeded by white-robed pythagoreans; next may come the suffering essenes bearing crosses, then the latin brotherhoods, followed by the german and english guilds, the stone masons with their implements, the crusader knights, those coming first having an appearance of actual humility and devotion, while those who follow are haughty and contemptuous to a degree. then would follow the black-robed penitentes and the members of the society of jesus, sanctimonious, with eyes cast down, human machines, mere tools in the hands of their superiors; the panorama continuing with a widely assorted lot of scholars, artisans and men of all conditions in various regalia, and terminated with an indistinguishable multitude of variously adorned men, some sleek and fat, others ill-conditioned, some devout and sincere, others mere jesters and knaves from every walk of life. it was most natural and to be expected that primitive man should be most profoundly impressed with the forces of nature, often terrifying and frightful, often winsome and attractive, and that he should bow himself down to the unknown cause of these manifestations. with his extremely finite mind he necessarily personified them; after having done this he proceeded to propitiate them by worship with certain forms of ritual. perhaps fire first and most of all attracted him in this way, and drew from him the earliest acts of worship, for in spite of the general views to the contrary fire is often of natural origin, and must have been known to men before they became able to produce it by their own efforts. from practical to generalized concepts was a natural step, and thus mythology had its beginnings; the earliest distinctions were as between that which is overhead, i. e. heaven, and that which is beneath, namely, the earth; these are the beginnings of all cosmogonies. next the gods were given the attributes of sex; heaven was represented as masculine, fructifying, powerful; earth as conceptive, female and gentle. by the union of these two were produced sun, moon and their progeny--the stars. later the sun became poseidon or neptune, because he appeared from and disappeared into the sea. then the imagination began to run riot, and gave rise to many individual divinities, gods and goddesses, all with human passions and attributes, mingling and propagating after human fashion, and begetting dynasties and half human races, whose doings were the subject of countless epics, dramas, myths and romances. thus time passed on and the original sense or meaning of these myths, descending slowly by oral tradition, became lost, while the myths themselves were for a long time accepted as historical facts. nevertheless in all ages there have been men who, like aristotle, cicero and plutarch, have questioned the accuracy of these statements and shown themselves intelligent and active sceptics. during all these times, however, a wily priest-craft had lived and thrived on the superstitions of the common people and the practices in which they have indulged; by these men, thus conditioned, any active doubt was regarded as subversive of the system by which they were supported, and as one not to be tolerated;--this condition pertaining not only to antiquity, since it is too significant a feature even of the early years of this twentieth century. a more or less honest though misinformed priesthood has, in all times, been in favor of the purification of the theology in vogue in their times and among their inner circles, and has in the main given the most rationalistic interpretation to the obscure things which they taught, and practised what their education and environment would permit. but in order to preserve the mysteries, to maintain them as such, and save themselves from becoming superfluous, not to say intolerable, these same mysteries have been tricked out with mysticism, symbolism of the most fantastic character, and allegory of the most bewildering kind; moreover this has often been accomplished by dramatic representations and by moralizing or demoralizing ceremonies. the countries in which these "mysteries," as they have since been known, were most commonly practised and most widely believed were egypt, chaldea and greece. the sources of the egyptian mysteries, like those of egyptian civilization, are the most difficult to discover. the nile is necessarily the basis of egyptian history, geography, activity and habits, and consequently must be also of the egyptian cult. the people who were known as egyptians invaded the land of the nile from the direction of asia, and found there a race of negro type whom they subdued and with whom they later mingled. the semites called the land misraim; the greeks finally changed the name of its great river to neilos. the country is a land of enigmas. who built those pyramids, and why? who originated the system of pictorial writing which we call the hieroglyphic? who planned those wonderful temples now either in ruins, as in upper egypt, or buried beneath the desert sands, as in lower egypt? who brought and erected those mighty blocks of stone or massive slabs from enormous distances, and handled them as we could scarcely do to-day with the best of modern machinery? in course of time two hereditary classes were formed, the priests who dominated the minds, and the warriors who controlled the bodies of the conquered people and the lower classes. the latter kept the throne of egypt occupied, while the former, having a monopoly of the knowledge of the time, prescribed for the people what they must believe, yet were very far from accepting these precepts for themselves, and in their inner circles made light of that which they preached to the despised classes without. the egyptians named their sun god re, but assigned the various attributes of the sun to different personalities; they had moreover not only gods for the whole land, but ptah was god of memphis, ammon god of thebes, etc. local deities were often constructed out of inspiring objects or from animals inhabited by spirits, and thus the fetichism of the original negro race exerted no little influence upon the higher cult of their lighter colored conquerors. worship was paid to animals not for their own sake but because of the gods who were supposed to reside within them; thus their prominent gods were represented with the head of some animal. this honor belonged not to any individual animal but of necessity to the entire species, certain representatives of which were maintained at public expense in the temples, where they were carefully guarded and waited upon by the faithful. to harm one of these animals was to be severely punished, to kill one of them was to die. conversely when a god failed in responding to the prayers of the faithful his fetich had to suffer, and the priests first threatened the animal, and if menaces were unavailing they killed the sacred beast, albeit in secret, lest the people should learn of it. as time went on there was less of zoölatry, and the sun-gods and their associates figured more largely among the cult of the people. the sun's course was not represented as that of a chariot, as among the persians and greeks, but rather as the voyage of a nile boat, upon which the god re navigated the heavens; from which it will appear that the priestly religion was making slow progress to monotheism by means of oligotheism. the secret teaching of the priests was now more and more to the effect that the gods stood not so much for themselves as for something else. during the fourth dynasty the lower egyptian city anu was known as the city of the sun, hence the greek name for the place, heliopolis. still more characteristic was the giving of the name of osiris, who figured as god of abdu, which the greeks called abydos, in upper egypt, to the god of the sunset, who was king of the lower domains and of death, brother and at the same time husband of isis, brother also of set, who slew him, and father of horus, i. e. god of the new sun, who figures after each sunset. horus fought with set, but being unable to completely destroy him left him the desert as his kingdom, while himself holding to the nile valley. this story of the gods was publicly represented in various scenes on certain holidays, but only the priests, i. e., the initiated, knew the real meaning of the representations. even the name of osiris and his abode were kept secret, and outsiders heard only of the "great god" dwelling somewhere in "the west." these were the most famous of all the old egyptian mysteries, though to them were added many others, including that of apis, the sacred bull of memphis, who served also as the symbol of the sun and of the fructifying nile; beneath his tongue was to be seen the sacred beetle, and the behavior of the great animal was supposed to be prophetic and his actions to mean oracular sayings. the sphinx again was a sun-god, his image being repeated throughout the nile region, and was always thought of as a male; the head was represented as that of some king, while the whole figure stood for the sun-god harmachis; although the sphinx later introduced into greece was always female. while the egyptians did not attribute to their numerous gods divine perfection, they nevertheless regarded religious practices as a means of currying favor with their divinities, a custom apparently still in favor. the priests believed in a sun-god as the only true deity, but not so the people; thus the priests in the various cities praised their local and tutelary god as supreme and made him identical with re, whose name they appended to the original, as for instance _amon-re_. the king, no matter where he was, prayed always to the local deity as lord of heaven and earth, yet in words always the same. at last during the eighteenth dynasty, about b. c., amenhotep iv realized that the power of the priesthood was a menace to the crown and therefore proclaimed the sun as the sole god, not in human shape, but in that of a disk. he ordered all other images of other gods associated with the sun to be destroyed; the priests of these deposed gods lost their places and estates, which latter were confiscated. but his sons-in-law who succeeded him restored the deposed monarchs. nevertheless they were marked as heretics by those priests who were reinstated in their former power. in consequence of this conflict, which was violent and prolonged, the intellectual life of egypt was paralyzed and the mystic teachings of the priests were henceforth not disturbed by any wave of progress or advance. the people again sank into a stupid and unredeemable formalism, demonism and sorcery. with the purpose of amusing them the priests furnished gorgeous sacrificial processions and festivals, while at the same time drawing them away from the true god by teaching them a worship of deceased kings and queens. they also built temples, to only the outer portion of which were the people generally admitted, while the innermost portions were guarded by these priests lest the mysteries thus protected be such no longer. they also procured the building of the ancient labyrinth, near lake moeris, of which herodotus tells us that there were fifteen hundred chambers above ground and as many more under ground, which latter were never shown except to the initiated, and which contained the remains of sacred crocodiles and of the pharaohs. the egyptian priests taught that man was made up of _body_, a material essence or the _soul_, which in the shape of a bird left the body at death, and an _immaterial spirit_ which held to the man the same relation which a god held to the animal in which he dwelt, and which at death departed from the body like the image of a dream. they taught also that, if the soul and spirit were to live on, the body should be embalmed and laid in a rock chamber, and that then the relatives must supply meat, drink, and clothing for its use. the spirit took its way to osiris and by means of a magic formula the dead would be made one with osiris; hence in the egyptian "book of the dead" the deceased was addressed as osiris with his own name added, and could now lead a happy life in the other world, which life was portrayed on the walls of the sepulchres in pictures which are still to be seen, showing how the creature comforts of this world were to be enhanced in the next. having reached the outer world, and having escaped the host of demons that threatened him on his passage, he could then revisit this earth at will in any form. the egyptian priests also taught that there was a judgment of the dead, and that new comers had to appear before osiris, with his forty-two assessors, and disclaim the commission of each one of forty-two sins; all of which was a magic formula for obtaining bliss according to their notion rather than anything intended as a true statement. the hippopotamus figured as an active agent in the book of the dead, appearing always as the accuser, when the sins and the good deeds were being weighed in the balance, while the god thot was the "attorney for the defense." all these secret doctrines of a priestcraft necessitated secret associations, at least of the higher priests, to which the king was always admitted, the only egyptian outside of the priesthood to be thus taught their secrets. this was purely for protection; having less fear of foreigners these priests often initiated distinguished men from foreign lands, greeks especially. thus orpheus, homer, lycurgus, solon, herodotus, pythagoras, plato, archimedes, and many others, received the secret doctrine. the ritual was a long and tedious but significant ceremony, taught by degrees like the masonry of to-day, and necessitated in some cases the right of circumcision; all who passed it were pledged to the most strict silence. according to diodorus the orphic mysteries were in large degree a repetition of the egyptian, while the greek legislators, philosophers and mathematicians whom i have named drew their knowledge from the same source; all of which is probably a very gross exaggeration. nevertheless it would appear from the hieroglyphic remains that high grade schools were conducted by the egyptian priests, and that foreign scholars could obtain for themselves instruction in the exact sciences of the day. only the priests, however, were able to write the hieroglyphics, at least in the earlier centuries of egyptian history. there can be no doubt but that the secret doctrine of the egyptian priests was both philosophic and religious, and was sharply distinguished from the popular belief which mistook tradition for truth; that it was monotheistic, that it rejected polytheism and zoölatry, and that the true signification of egyptian mythology was expounded in private. moreover an essential part of this mystery concerned the interpretation of myths as allegorical accounts of personified natural phenomena. for instance plutarch ("isis and osiris") writes--"when we hear of the egyptian myths of the gods, their wanderings, their dismemberment and other like incidents, we must recall the remarks already made, so as to understand that the stories told are not to be taken literally as recounting actual occurrences." without now going into the subject of the relative age of the egyptian and chaldean cults, i will remind you that the secret wisdom of one race was not excelled by that of the other. the chaldean races are undoubtedly of turanian origin, and their form of religion was peculiar to the ural-altaic stock and the turkic races, who originated the cuneiform writing. their most ancient writings represented evil spirits as coming from the desert in groups of seven, and contained formulas for exorcising them; they were presided over by the heavens, while from the higher spirits evolved gods and goddesses in countless number. upon the original ground work of chaldean ideas a semitic race built a superstructure, and the first traces of the babylonians and assyrians appeared some four thousand years b. c. their highest god was an individual whom they named baal, while the sun and moon were his images. as in egypt the priests were held in great reverence, standing next after the king, who was _ex officio_ high priest; they too had a secret doctrine withheld from the vulgar. although the chaldeans were astrologers rather than astronomers, they were yet familiar enough with the heavens to estimate astral phenomena for what they really were, instead of holding them to be gods, though they may have represented them as such to the common people. their literature contained numerous mythological poems, so obscure that to understand them a key was required, which key was only in the possession of the priests. inasmuch as abraham came from ur in chaldea, with him crept into biblical literature much of the chaldean tradition and folklore. the chaldeans had also their noah, and their deluge, in which the dove figured as in the biblical account. when the proprietor of the ark finally freed the animals he erected an altar and offered sacrifice, to which the gods gathered "like masses of flies." this story contributes but one section of the great chaldean epic in which are recounted the exploits of a hero corresponding with the nimrod of the hebrew bible, dating from the twenty-third century b. c., and reminding one forcibly of the herculean and many other myths recounted in other ancient languages. an off-shoot of the chaldean culture was that of persia, whose priestly class were far removed above the warriors and farmers that constituted the other two classes. priests married only among their own race, possessed all the knowledge, made their king _ex officio_ one of themselves, and practised itinerant teaching, but solely among their own caste. in the holy city, ragha, the priests alone held rule and no secular power prevailed; zoroaster was their founder; they were the physicians, astrologers, interpreters of dreams, scribes and officers of justice, while they impressed upon the minds of the people their exclusive duties;--to reverence the holy fire, which was their greatest mystery, to listen to the teaching of passages from the sacred book, and to perform numerous ceremonies of purification. only the initiated were taught the meaning of the strife between the good ormuzd and the evil ahriman, which was probably the alternation of day and night, and of summer and winter. in india the intense feeling with regard to caste but little altered the condition of things from that obtaining as above described, though the brahmins were further away from the other castes than in other countries where the priests came from the common people; by the latter the brahmins used to be regarded as gods and did all they could to perpetuate this feeling. by this fact alone they became a self-constituted mystic organization, being themselves pantheists while the people were idolators. though they taught pantheism in their sacred books, the second and third castes, namely the warriors and farmers, did not understand the teaching, and the fourth caste dared not read them at all. in this pantheism penitents and hermits were esteemed as above kings and heroes; but even the life of a hermit was not exacting enough for them, so they organized the idea of a soul of the universe so incomprehensible that, as they themselves acknowledged, no man could comprehend it or instruct another in it. despairing of solving the problem they finally fancied that the universe was a phantasm, and that the earth and all things earthly were nothing. they taught that through countless aeons of time men grew always worse, and were born only to suffer and die, or to do penance in the torments of an indescribable hell. naturally of all these things the people could only understand the teachings pertaining to hell and future punishment, and so the brahmins contrived for them a supreme deity, having the same name as their soul of the universe, namely brahma, whom they made the creator but playing a passive part. the people were not content, however, with an absentee passive god, but paid much more attention to vishnu the preserver, and the dreaded siva, the destroyer. after a while these three gods were united in a sort of trinity, represented by a three headed figure, but without temples or sacrifices. the brahmins continued their subtleties and divided the people into parties, like the scholiasts and disputants of the middle centuries of our present christian era, and so the hindoo religion became more and more debased. however, in the sixth century b. c., buddha, that great figure in early history, endeavored to save it by a reform which found much more encouragement in the west, and to the far east of india, than in india itself, and which has since assumed a more composite character by fusion with the religions of the surrounding countries. buddha formed first a monastic society based upon ethical doctrines, whose underlying principle was that only by a renunciation of everything can man find safety, peace and comfort. buddha's first teachings were mystic and for the initiated only; his followers believed also in reincarnation. after his death and that of those who were supposed to have lived before him, and who were expected to appear again, and who had been raised to the dignity of gods, (and after their number had been added to that of the popular hindoo gods and to the gods of the other people), then buddhism became a polytheism, and because of the variety of possible explanations and the necessary exegesis, assumed in the end the dimensions of a secret mystic doctrine. the hellenes undoubtedly did, in the beginning, worship natural forces under the form of animals, especially of serpents; later human and animal forms were united, and so they had deities with heads of animals, or with the bodies of horses like the centaurs, or with the hoofs of goats like the satyrs. but the natural greek taste for the beautiful early asserted itself; the figures of gods came by degrees to express the ideal of physical perfection, that is the human shape, and the grecian religion became essentially a worship of the beautiful, and not as among oriental religions a worship of the unnatural or hideous. they forgot the astronomic and cosmic significance of the early myths and held rather to personifications of the normal forces, of which their poets sang as of mortal heroes. they never dreamt of dogma, creed or revelation, demanded only that man honor the gods, but left it to the taste of each one how he should suitably perform his acts of reverence. it must be confessed, however, that in candor and chastity they left much to be desired; but this may be explained when we remember that their own gods set them a very poor example in these respects. still history will forgive them much because they loved much. the greeks were exceedingly liberal in their interpretations concerning the gods, while the various peoples constituting the greek race were not at all agreed as to the number and respective rank of the gods whom they worshiped. thus one would be disowned here, another there; while in one place greater honor would be paid to one, or elsewhere to another; exactly as in the case of the saints among the catholic people of to-day. they went so far in their worship of the beautiful as to divide the gods among the localities which possessed statues of them, which gods came to be regarded as distinct individuals; so that even socrates doubted whether aphrodite of the sky and aphrodite of the people were or were not the same person. furthermore in their liberality they made gods to hand for every emergency, and even worshiped the unknown gods, as st. paul long ago recorded. for the greeks these gods were neither monsters like those of egypt, india and chaldea, nor incorporeal spirits like the gods of persia and of israel, but human beings with all the human attributes. for the greeks neither jehovah existed, nor a personal devil in any form. like the greeks themselves their gods had many human failings, though in them religion survived many mythological creations like the centaurs, the satyrs, etc. these were merely folklore beings enacting parts ranging from terror to farce, and never receiving divine honors. grecian religion was, so to speak, the established church of the greek states, but came to be in time a cloak for the designs of the politicians; in which respect history has many times repeated itself. for instance socrates was made to drink his cup of hemlock on the pretext that he had apostatized from the state religion. still even in his day heresy played no part except among politicians. every one could plainly state his convictions, and aristophanes in his comedies introduced gods in the most ridiculous and compromising situations. so long as the public worship of the gods went on the state cared little for the upholding of positive or suppressing of negative beliefs. the gods were entitled to sacrifices and the people to divine aid, but they could regulate the interchange to suit themselves. the greatest public crimes were violation of temples and profanation of sacred things; one must leave the images alone even if he did not believe in the gods they represented. punishment of blasphemy was only inflicted when complaint was made. foreign gods could be introduced and worshiped at will, providing only that the customary honors were rendered to those at home. such religious freedom could naturally only exist during the minority or the absence of a priestly class. anyone could transact business with the gods or conduct sacrifices; priests were employed only in the temples, and outside of them they had neither business, influence nor privileges. their pantheism was comprehensive; the gods were everywhere, and the honor done to them consisted in invocations, votive offerings and sacrifices. the grecian religion recognized no official revelation which all were required to believe, though it did not deny the possibility of revelations at any time. their oracles were obtainable only in particular places and through duly qualified individuals. at one time in ancient greece conjuration was in vogue, but the gods and demons who indulged in it were all borrowed from foreign sources, and in time it degenerated into pure magic. the greeks, however, could not get away from the sentimental notion that belief in the gods must have an ethical side and must be subordinate to their faith; in other words that human nature was something entirely different from the divine to which it was subject. alienation from the god in which they believed led necessarily to the impulse to seek him, which was the leading motive in the institution of the grecian mysteries,--gods who were man's equals were not sufficient for the greeks. in the beginning of these mysteries they borrowed the art of the popular religion, disregarded the science of the day as well as the philosophic doctrines of their great men, held in contempt both human power and human knowledge, and devoted themselves almost entirely to self-introspection, meditation on revelation, incarnation and resurrection, and presented these things in dramatic forms and ceremonies, by which illusions they hoped to make more or less impression upon the senses. the grecian mysteries were the opposite of genuine hellenism. the true greek was cheerful, happy, clear in perception, and his gods appeared to him as do their statues to us to-day. but greek mysticism was full of gloom, symbolism and fantastic interpretations; in every way it was unhellenic and abnormal, having no fit place in their soil nor in their age. it always has been the case that sentimental, romantic or mystical dispositions find delight in the mysterious, while logical minds are unmoved by it. from the mysteries no man was excluded, save those who had shown themselves unworthy of initiation. they had their origin in the early rites of purification and atonement; the former being at first only bodily cleansing, which later took on a moral significance; while the atonement was a sort of expiation which came with the consciousness of sin and desire for forgiveness. atonement was most called for in case of blood guiltiness, and consisted largely in the sacrifices of animals, burning of incense, etc. in all the ancient mysteries these two features of purification and expiation played a great part. of them all the oldest and most celebrated were those instituted at eleusis, in attica, in honor of the goddess demeter (latin ceres), and her daughter persephone (latin proserpina). to these were added later a masculine deity, known at first as iacchos, whose name is probably related to jao, which appears in jovispater or jupiter, and to the hebrew yahve or jehovah. later, however, b was substituted for i and iacchos was made to read bacchus. jao was the harvest god, and consequently god of the grape, hence the close relation to bacchus. the greek word eleusis means _advent_, and commemorates the visit of demeter while wandering in search of her daughter,--which reminds one of the egyptian story of isis. moved by gratitude, demeter bestowed upon the people of eleusis the bread-grain and the mysteries. from this city the cult of these two deities spread over all greece and most of asia minor, passed into italy in modified form, and thus became widely accepted. the people built at eleusis a temple in pure doric style and a mystic house in which the secret festivals were held. the city was connected with athens by a sacred way, which was flanked with temples and sanctuaries, while in athens itself was a building, the eleusinion, in which a portion of the mysteries were celebrated. the buildings at eleusis were in good preservation until the fourth century a. d., when they were destroyed by the goths under alaric, and at the instigation of monkish fanatics. you will see, then, that the mysteries were widely observed in asia minor, and at a time when they must have deeply tinged the religious views and habits of a large portion of the population prior to the beginning of the christian era. the eleusinian mysteries were always under the direction of the athenian government, and the report of their celebration was always rendered to the grand council of athens. the function of the priests was an hereditary and exclusive privilege and the mysteries as a whole were under the immediate care of a sacred council. the people contented themselves mainly with honoring the gods, while in these mysteries the original endeavor was to emphasize the preëminence of the divine over the human, hence their careful guardianship by the authorities of the state. both were offshoots of pantheism, one seeing the divine in all earthly things, the other constantly searching for it there, and striving to unite with it. monotheism, that is absolute separation of the human from the divine without hope of union, is a purely oriental conception, quite incomprehensible to the greek mind. no ancient greek ever conceived of a creative deity in the egyptians' sense, nor of a vengeful jehovah like that of the hebrews. the eleusinian mysteries were most highly venerated among the greeks; so much so that during their celebration hostilities were suspended between opposing armies, while those who witnessed them uninvited or betrayed the secret teaching, or ridiculed them, were executed or banished. so late even as the period of the roman supremacy the roman emperors took an interest in maintaining these mysteries, and some of the early christian emperors, like constantius ii. and jovian, while forbidding nocturnal festivals made an exception of these. the sum of the original eleusinian doctrine is a myth based upon the rape of demeter's daughter persephone by pluto, all of which is the old story of the seasons and the changes brought about in their regular succession; and as persephone was ultimately united with bacchus but returned to the lower world for the winter, we see typified first, the fruitfulness of the sun god; secondly, the fecundity of the soil, and, thirdly, the resurrection of the body, which having been dropped like the grain into the earth was supposed to rise from it again after a similar fashion. how much this may have to do with present christian beliefs concerning the resurrection may not be easily decided. nevertheless it is of interest that the doctrine of the resurrection is of pre-christian origin and is traceable through heathen teachings, even if having no greater support than the analogy above cited. the central teaching of the mysteries was probably that of a personal immortality analogous to the return of bloom and blossom to plants in the spring. there were two festivals held at eleusis, the _lesser_ in march, when the ravished persephone came up out of the nether world into the sunlight; and the _greater_ in october when she had to follow her sullen spouse into hades again. the preliminary celebration was held at athens, and lasted six days, from october th to th. they all assembled upon that day and went down to the seashore for the rite of purification, the other days being spent in sacrificing and marching in solemn procession. on the last of them came the grand bacchic procession, when thousands of both sexes wended their way along the sacred road to eleusis; the distance to be traveled was fourteen miles, but many stops were made. arrived at eleusis the first evening was devoted to drinking the decoction called _kykeon_, by which demeter was originally comforted during her wanderings. during the first days the initiated feasted and performed their mystic rites, consisting largely of torch light processions at night. after these were over the festival became a scene of merriment and athletic competition. the fasting and solemn cup, along with others of their rites, remind one of certain christian observations perpetuated to the present day, while the severe tests to which those desiring initiation were subject have been more or less imitated by the free masons and other secret societies of mediaeval or modern times. the mystic house must have been furnished with all the resources of the stage and the most ingenious stage carpentry of that day, and makes one think of scottish rite masonry of this. the initiates regarded their chances in the next world as much better than those of the common people, as all the ancient greek writers acknowledge. in age and renown the mysteries of the cabiri, in the island of samothrace, rank next to those of eleusis. they date back to a time preceding the evolution of several of the grecian deities. these mysteries implied originally an astro-mythology, losing in time its astral meaning. in these samothracian mysteries the reproductive forces of nature figured most prominently, and through them the phallic worship of the orientals was transmitted to the greeks. into these mysteries women and even children were initiated. there were also cabirian mysteries in several other islands in the grecian archipelago, as well as on the continent. mysteries were also celebrated in the island of crete, in honor of zeus. we know but little concerning them save that in the spring time the birth of the god was commemorated in one place, and his death at another, and that amid loud noises the story of the childhood of zeus was enacted by the young. as already remarked the worship of bacchus was imported and in him was personified the influence of the sun upon the growth of the vine, while the ultimate tendency was to the glorification of life and force; in other words, it was eminently materialistic and appealed to the grosser senses. the dionysian mysteries originated in thrace, and among a people of pelasgian stock, who were naturally gloomy save when aroused, when their enthusiasm became exaggerated into transports of frenzy. in time a distinction obtained between the dionysian mysteries and the festivals. at least seven different non-mystic festivals occurred in attica during the year, which were of popular character, during which the phallic worship, if any, predominated. the fabled adventures of bacchus were enacted and the dramatic stage originated at this time and from this beginning. on the other hand, a triennial festival of dionysos was held in which women participated who, saturated with wine, lost all restraint and humility and were called _maenades_ or mad women, while their festivals were spoken of as _orgia_, whence our modern term orgies. these were conducted at night, upon the mountains, by torch-light, in mid-winter, while the women, who were clothed in skins, shunned all association with men, and drank, danced, sang and committed all sorts of excesses, finally sacrificing a bull, in honor of the god, whose flesh they devoured raw. they then raved about the death of their god and how he must be found again; all hope in rediscovering him centering in the quickening springtime. bacchus worship, bad as it was in greece, was surpassed in rome, livy even comparing the introduction of the bacchic cult into rome to a visitation of the plague. in its etruscan and roman form it became simple debauchery with a thin veneering of religion. so abominable did it become in time that in b. c., the consul albinus was compelled to suppress it. seven thousand persons were implicated at that time, and the ringleaders and a multitude of their accomplices were condemned to death or exile. the senate decreed that the bacchanalia should never again be held in rome or italy, and the places sacred to bacchic worship were to be destroyed. these orgies continued unchecked outside of italy, and in time reappeared again even upon italian soil, until the days of the roman emperors, when they reached a pitch of absolute shamelessness, as in the case of the notorious messalina. time fails in which to mention all of the other debased mysteries which were met with in the various parts of greece and italy. among them, however, must be recorded those of the mother of rhea, those of sebazios, and those of mithras, all of which were finally collected by the sect of orpheans. among the persians mithras was the light, and his worship was perhaps the purest cult that could be imagined. later it was combined with sun worship, and mithras became a sun god, and as such generally recognized among the different peoples. to the early greeks mithras was unknown, but in the later days of the roman empire his mysteries made their appearance and gained great prominence. the monuments represented a young man in the act of slaying a bull with a dagger, while all around are human and animal figures, the youth standing for the sun god who, on subduing taurus in may, begins to develop his highest power. the original beautiful rites later degenerated and became orgies. among the original rites was a form of baptism and the drinking of a potion made of meal and water. human sacrifices were in some places a part of the cult. the most disreputable of all these mysteries appear to have been the sabazian, which were made up of several earlier forms, and were mere excuses for gluttony and lewdness, while the priests of the cult were most impudent beggars. thus in time the mysteries were stripped of all the beauties of a heavenly origin and became of earth exceedingly earthy, while their initiates, lost to all shame and decency, persisted nevertheless in their sacred hypocrisy, until the hideous night of the gods disappeared before the glow of a brighter morning. after this rather long preliminary portion, we are now prepared, as otherwise we could not be, to consider the relation between the christian religion and these ancient mysteries. granting that jesus was the founder of the christian religion, we must remember, nevertheless, that he was distinctly a jew, spent his life in judea, and based his teachings upon judaism; also that long before his day judaism was thoroughly indoctrinated with greek elements, and that after his crucification the propaganda was carried on not so much by jews as by greeks and men of grecian education. between the greeks and the jews there were then, as now, the greatest differences; differences which have already been epitomized, but which may be thus summarized. on one side the closest union between god or the gods and man, most lofty sentiments and finest sense of art-form, a priesthood making no pretentions and exerting little influence, a nation sustaining active commercial relations with the world, and all imbued with eagerness to adopt whatever was novel; on the other side, the widest separation between jehovah and man, a substitution of theology and religious poetry for a study of nature, a nation ruled by priests and protected against all access from without, either by sea or caravan, adhering determinedly to the old and distrusting whatever was new. after the jews were liberated from babylon, by cyrus, they dispersed widely, living largely under persian rule, and subjected after alexander's conquest to greek influences. later they were scattered still more widely, becoming in time a mercantile race. in egypt they enjoyed greater privileges than elsewhere, and in alexandria saw the acme of grecian art and teaching. while retaining their reverence for their scriptures and for the temple at jerusalem, they quite generally adopted the language of the country, and particularly was this true of the jews living in alexandria in the third century, b. c., during which the pentateuch was translated into the septuagint, the remainder of the hebrew bible being translated about b. c. thus the greeks gained an introduction to jewish theology, while the hellenist jews learned for the first time a grecian philosophy; thus, too, among the scholars of one race was begotten a high esteem for the sages and philosophers of the other, while from the polytheism of one and the monotheism of the other was constructed a new mysticism. in this alexandrian mysticism appeared in particular and for the first time the new idea of divine revelation, which was applied by enthusiasts alike to the old testament and to the grecian writings. the jew aristobulus devised a most ingenious allegorical interpretation of the old testament, and traced to it all the wisdom of the greeks, who until recently had never heard of it; and philo, another hebrew philosopher, contemporary with christ, yet of whom he knew nothing, so construed the traditions of his race as to see in the four rivers of eden the four cardinal virtues, in the trees of paradise the lesser virtues, and in the great figures of jewish history personifications of various moral conceptions, all of which was out-doing the manner in which his grecian friends had developed their own mysteries. moreover, and this is very important, philo taught that god had made a world of ideas and according to this model had subsequently made a corporeal world; the former having for its central point the word. this statement that the _word_ was the first and the _world_ his second deed passed later into the gospel of st. john, which opens "in the beginning was the _word_, and the _word_ was god." philo founded a sect based upon the doctrine that the soul's union with the body is to be regarded as a punishment from which man should free himself, for his soul's sake. this sect was known as the essenes, who in spite of claims to the highest antiquity really were founded during the first century b. c., and who constituted in effect a secret society. they were the true socialists of their day, and held things in common. they invented a peculiar nomenclature for the angels and imposed upon their new members to keep these names secret. as a society they did not long survive the beginning of the christian era, being made superfluous by christian asceticism. the essenes, however, were of importance in this regard that they constituted the middle terms between the grecian mysteries and christianity, as they did between grecian philosophy and judaism. they were, in effect, a jewish imitation of the pythagorean league. _when with grecian mysticism were associated the nobility of socrates, the philosophy of plato, the science of aristotle and the jewish belief in one god, it is not strange that out of these elements, combined with the teachings of simple humanity enunciated by christ, there resulted a power which transformed the world._ the view that all mankind are brothers, originally jewish, was also of independent greek origin and came especially from the stoics, who had to lie dormant until some tie stronger than mere political association held men together. this tie subsequently became a religious one. polytheism had nothing more to give up; all the forces had been worked over in the god-making process, the pantheon was full, and men ridiculed alike the gods, their oracles and their priests. these same priests smiled at each other when they met, and forfeited all public respect by the lives they led. olympic wantoning and derision of the gods must necessarily have ended so soon as anything better could be substituted therefor. the long felt want was for a god of definite character, of approved prowess, with human feelings, human wrath, and human love, made after man's own likeness, who should stand for a doctrine of personal immortality, and give some promise of a hereafter. the jews, the only monotheists of the time, were prepared to furnish such a god, but he was too spiritual, and was worshiped by altogether too indefinite rites and peculiar usages. nevertheless the god of the jews was utilized for this purpose while the mystic elements with which he was to be surrounded were furnished by the ancient grecian mysteries and the doctrines of the pythagoreans and essenes. so completely did the jews and greeks mingle in egypt and in judea, that the idea prevailed among both races that the time had come for something new in the desired direction. the various secret leagues demanded a separation of the divine from the human and their subsequent reconciliation, all of which was subsequently furnished to their satisfaction in the accounts of the origin and death of christ. even during the early years of the roman empire men looked for a new kingdom in the east, and both jews and heathen awaited some divine intervention. this took more definite form in the jewish expectation of a messiah who should restore the kingdom of israel, and in their worship of jehovah, while the greeks yearned for something to take the place of their degenerate polytheism. the times were thus ready for the appearance of jesus, who lived for most of his life in obscurity, and of whose career no mention is made by contemporary greek and roman writers. this was perhaps fortunate for his followers, for none could contradict what any other might choose to say of him who rose above the bigotry of his day and people, who was executed because of his independence of the priests and scribes, and who was thus regarded as the longed for messiah. on the jewish branch of his real origin were grafted grecian mystical off-shoots of superhuman origin;--an immaculate conception, a vicarious sacrifice, a resurrection and an assumption of a portion of the god-head. thus, in what has come down to us concerning the founder of the christian church, truth and fiction mingle; the former being that which is consistent with highest laws and natural phenomena; and the latter that which conflicts with these. jesus himself never made pretentions to being more than a man. when he spoke of his father he spoke of him as equally the father of all mankind; he was the greatest moral reformer that ever lived, and he differed widely from the essenes in that he sought to save man, not by essenism and withdrawing him from the world, but by living with him and setting him a beautiful example. the ancients were firm believers in signs and portents from the heavens which were supposed to serve both for the instruction and warning of mankind. stars, meteors, the aurora, comets and sudden lights of any kind were regarded as presaging events like the birth of gods, heroes, etc. great lights were supposed to have appeared both at the conception and birth of buddha, and of crishna. the sacred writings of china tell of like events in the history of the founder of her first dynasty, yu, and of her inspired sages. the greeks and romans had similar traditions regarding the birth of aesculapius and several of the caesars. in jewish history we read that a star appeared at the birth of moses, and of abraham--for whom an unusual one appeared in the east. the prominence which a similar star in the east played in the legends of the founder of christianity and the effect which, as also in the case of moses it had upon magi, needs here no rehearsing. a very different significance was attached to eclipse or to any phenomena by which unexpected darkness is produced. the greeks held that at the deaths of prometheus, hercules, aesculapius and alexander, a great darkness overspread the earth. in roman history the earth was shadowed in darkness for six hours when romulus died. much the same thing is reported to have occurred when julius caesar died. so also one of the most conspicuous features attending the crucifixion of jesus was a similar phenomenon which is made to play a most conspicuous part, for we read in three of the gospels that "darkness spread over the earth from the sixth to the ninth hour;" although the only evangelist who claims to have been present says nothing about it, nor do historians of that time, like seneca and pliny, make note of any such event in judea. in view of all this, however, to deny the star in the east, and the hours of darkness following the crucifixion, is regarded by many pious people as rank blasphemy or heresy of the deepest dye. the parables in which jesus taught so unmistakably were similes adapted to the simple comprehension of his people, who likewise often made use of such figurative language. those who followed him used this form of speech much more freely, and quickly erected his personality into the dignity of a god, magnified him and his mission, and soon saw him generally accepted as the equivalent of the messiah, for whom greeks and jews alike had longed. his alleged miracles were unnecessary, in addition to being contradictory to all known natural sequences, because the simple and sublime truths which he preached could not be made more expressive by any such help. in the light of to-day they seem unnecessary juggleries, quite unworthy of so grand a character. they probably represent the effort of his followers, who portrayed his life and personality in colors which would make them more generally acceptable. of such transformations as that by which the son of a carpenter was made to appear of divine origin history has no lack. the grecian polytheism furnished numerous illustrations; apollo appeared on earth as a shepherd, herakles, the son of zeus, and romulus (who was also the son of a _virgin_ and of _mars_), were founders of cities, states and nations. the jewish accounts of creation stated that god walked the earth, and why not in human form? why also should not the founder of a religion be the son of god and of a virgin? the rest of the beautiful story upon which we were all brought up must be regarded as fanciful embellishment, beautiful in its imagery, but having no foundation in fact or scientific possibility. the annunciation, the star in the east, the slaughter of the innocents, etc., can only be regarded in this light. the stories of the miracles are probably distinctively purposive. in the grecian mysteries demeter and dionysos figured as givers of bread and wine; jesus, too, was made lord and giver of these two sacred viands, all of which appears in his changing water into wine, multiplying the loaves, and later in the institution of the last supper, at which bread and wine became a part of these christian mysteries which are still widely perpetuated. in his quieting the storm, walking upon the water, finding the penny in the fishes' mouth, and the draught of fishes, are portrayed his power over the forces of nature and lower forms of life. his power over disease was personified by stories of healing paralytics, lepers, blind, deaf and dumb people, casting out devils, and even by restoring the dead to life. apparitions were common according to the history of his life, as of the holy spirit in form of a dove, his encounter with satan, the appearance of moses and elias, etc. the ancient tendency to personify appears again in the form of satan or a personal devil, namely the power of evil, while in the transfiguration is personified the superiority of the new law over the old. finally the miracles attending his last days, the darkening of the sun, the rending of the veil and the resurrection, were all occurrences which it would be impossible to omit from the closing scenes in the life of anyone who has figured as a god. they betoken the mourning of nature, while the ascension personified the belief in an everlasting redeemer and the individual immortality of those who believed in him. in thus epitomizing the events in the life of jesus upon which, from his day until now, men have laid such fearful stress, and upon whose acceptance the present life as well as the future of all men has been conditioned, i should be far from doing justice to myself should i fail to point out my own attitude in the matter. i hold it true that the self-evident truth, as well as the wonderful sublimity of christ's teachings, become apparent upon the study of the same, and are weakened rather than strengthened by insistence upon all that is supernatural, mysterious and inconceivable in the generally accepted account of his life and labor. my mind is freed from the necessity for the mysterious which the graeco-jewish people demanded, and which the superstitious people of to-day still demand, and i prefer to let him stand for what he seems to me to be,--_the greatest moralist and teacher of all time_, rather than to surround him with a veil of imagery and with statements so impossible of belief as to make it impossible to accept one part without accepting them all. the jews already had doctrines of unity of god and love for others; the grecian philosophy antedated him in insisting upon elevation of life to a higher plane than that of mere gratification of the senses, and everywhere his predecessors and contemporaries could furnish miracles by the hundred, but in force, grandeur and simplicity of his teachings, in his comprehensive humanity, in his directness of appeal, in his condemnations of those who departed from the model which he set, he never has had and probably never will have an equal. in his self-abasement and love for others he was as irresistible as have been these principles in civilizing and, in this sense, christianizing the world. in jesus' own day there was no hair-splitting theology; devotion, love of fellow-men, charity, repentance, these were all that were needed. but the beautiful simplicity of his teaching was lost with the death of his first disciples. the system was esteemed too simple, too unadorned to appeal to the people used to something quite the contrary. and so stephen the martyr, who was of grecian education, was stoned because he demanded a repudiation of certain jewish teachings, although the congregation at antioch adopted his views. paul the great leader was an epileptic and had frequent fits and visions, and these made a strong impression, not only on himself but on his followers. on the creations of his imagination the doctrine of the resurrection is largely based. he set up the god-man jesus as the counterpart of the first man adam, who represented sin and death, and who was to be crucified and born anew in christ. between paul, the great gentile christian, and peter, the jewish christian, the church was quickly split into two parties; these two soon subdividing into others, and among them all arose the new testament literature, whose alexandrine dialect establishes the influence of greek education. thus did christianity develop out of the secret associations of the ancient world. the early christians themselves constituted, at least while under persecution, a sort of secret society. their worship was mystical, but not because jesus so taught;--rather because of their environment and traditions. the practice of baptism, the last supper and the doctrines of incarnation and resurrection have been as certainly added to the nazarene's sublime code of ethics as to them in turn, in the centuries to follow, were added every conceivable notion, mystery and stupid absurdity which the diseased minds of men could imagine, and which have been the cause of more departure from christ's original teachings, and of more strife and bloodshed than any other feature in the history of mankind. indeed it is one of the greatest inconsistencies of history that the doctrines of love, unity and peace, taught by the founder of christianity, should have been the greatest of all factors to rend mankind apart, beget feelings of hatred, and result in the death, from this cause, of millions of men such as jesus himself most loved. vi the knights hospitaller of st. john of jerusalem the three great militant, mendicant and monastic orders of the middle ages were the knights hospitaller of st. john, the knights templar, and the teutonic order. in addition were numerous others, smaller, shorter lived, less important in every respect, scarcely mentioned in even the larger histories, like the knights of calatrava, alcantara, santiago de compostella, and the english knights of the holy sepulchre. these orders were the immediate as well as the indirect outgrowth of mediaeval conditions for which both the church and the state were responsible. the secret tenets of the christians had been made public, and those who held to them had for some time ceased to be a secret society; their faith was now a part of that church which was essentially the state, and which occupied a goodly part of europe. sad to say the church was rent, and the state suffered accordingly from constant strife between sects and parties, who contested, even to the death, over interpretations to be given to the scriptures, and the matter of creeds. thus while discussing at point of the sword whether the soul is to be saved by good works, or by grace of god, they disregarded the very essence of the simple teachings of jesus, and brought upon theology, even in those days, the contempt and ridicule of the liberal minded and the non-believer, so that even to-day it suffers because of the unfortunate light in which it was made to appear. that theology should lead to war is the antithesis of the christian doctrine, yet no wars have been so fierce and bloody as those waged in "spreading the cross" and propagating a misinterpreted gospel. and so theology suffered doubly from the monks who perverted it, and from the knights and the state that inculcated it with fire and sword. for a thousand years nothing of importance was added to human knowledge, and mental confusion reigned supreme. at the end of this period all the original teachings of christ were forgotten, and after passing through the hands and tongues of fanatics or deluded and ignorant men, christianity was left with the semblance of a monotheistic basis on which had been crudely built up certain doctrines borrowed from egyptian and grecian sources, among which may be mentioned the trinity, immaculate conception, resurrection and ascension, as well as certain practices like that of the lord's supper, plainly borrowed from pagan customs. there was in all this so much to challenge belief, and so much at first unacceptable to minds not trained to believe it, that, in order to be effective their propaganda had to be carried on with the sword. moreover to the christian mystic, anxious to unify himself with the hidden, unknown deity the idea of moslem unbelievers in possession of the high places which they regarded with such reverence, was simply intolerable and repugnant beyond description. hence the crusades undertaken in order to regain the sepulchre; in which by papal decree the monks joined the knights, and under command of emperors and the greatest generals of their day, made temporary conquest of the holy land, founding the kingdom of jerusalem. the immediate outcome of the general movement was that alliance, made wise and even necessary, when theology and chivalry joined hands, from which resulted the foundation of such orders as those mentioned at the beginning of this paper. these allies of which they were composed, all took the monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and for a time kept them, until the possession of power and the acquisition of wealth brought their inevitably accompanying temptations. each of these orders and many of the others passed through the successive stages of poverty, with meekness and constant benefaction, succeeded sooner or later by temporal aggrandizement, selfishness, greed, and rapacity, with all the crimes in the calendar, and the inevitable ultimate downfall. of them all the hospital knights bore by all means the least smirched record, on which account, partly, as well as because of their most prominent purpose, i. e., their work among the sick, wounded and distressed, i deem their careers worthy of more particular study. for this purpose we may quickly dismiss the teutonic knights from present consideration, simply reminding you that they were really the founders of modern prussia. they had their own origin in the commendable public spirit of the merchants of lübeck and bremen, who during the siege of acre made tents out of the sails of their ships, in which their wounded countrymen might be nursed and attended. most of their active service against the saracens was in spain. of the knights templar a little must be said here. about two knights, hugo (or hugh) of payens, and godfrey of st. omers, associated with themselves six other french knights in a league of military character, styling themselves "poor knights of christ," and pledged themselves to keep safe for pilgrims the highways of the holy land. they prospered and grew, and came into the favor of baldwin i, king of that kingdom of jerusalem already mentioned. inasmuch as their monastery occupied a part of the site of solomon's temple of old they were known as _templars_. at the synod of troyes, in , they were recognized as a regular order, and received monastic rules and habits, with a special banner. they were also known as "poor companions of the temple of jerusalem," a name which did not very long befit them. at first, like the hospital knights, they begged their food, fasted, kept vows, worshipped diligently, and cared for the poor and infirm. beard and hair were cropped short, the chase was forbidden, and they took the usual vows of chastity. but as they acquired property they forgot the simple life and habit, as well as their vows of obedience and chastity, while their pledge to protect the pilgrim on his way became in time a farce, not alone through their indifference and negligence, but through their treasonable dealings with the saracens, and even treacherous surrender of their strongholds. thus, whatever their pristine purpose, lucre and power became the later objects of their strife and the impelling motives of their lives. by the accession of so-called "affiliated members" they avoided the rule of celibacy, and admitted married knights and those engaged to be married. their grand masters in time ranked next after popes and monarchs. while the former favored them it was mainly because they feared them. they were exempt from all episcopal jurisdiction, and subject only to the pope. so rich and powerful did they become that at the time of their suppression they controlled an empire of five provinces in the east and sixteen in the west, while the order possessed some , houses. they aimed to make all christendom dependent upon themselves, with only the pope as their nominal head. of their personal bravery, which was usually impeccable, of their affluence and intolerable effrontery, and of many of their traits and characteristics, one may form an excellent idea by reading _ivanhoe_, where these seem to be quite faithfully depicted. it is, to me i confess, just a little amusing as well as saddening to see the men, who name their secret masonic associations after the founders of the order, displaying and imitating, at least in public where alone they can be judged by outsiders, only those features of templar knighthood which marked the period of their decadence or their downfall. as imitations they may be historically accurate, but as worthy of emulation, or even of imitation such displays are matters of questionable taste, at least, to those who read medieval history. the templars in their days of splendor and later downfall, were neither pious, nor learned, nor good christians. many of their secret doctrines were of heretical origin, taken from the waldenses or the albigenses, and they cared far more for their own possessions than for the holy land. they promulgated the shameful excuse that god evidently willed that the saracen should win; that the defects of the crusaders were evidently according to his decision, and that therefore they were released from their vows, and could return to europe, where indeed they rested--after their fashion,--from their labors, and passed their time in doing everything their founders had vowed not to do. but this is not intended to be an epitome of templar history; rather a brief statement of the reasons why they went proudly and sometimes stoically to their final downfall, and why the hospital order, though not always keeping up to its earlier standards, nevertheless so far eclipsed them, as to become the recipients of very much of the templars' enormous resources and wealth, being thought worthy to be thus entrusted. and so it happened that, in , philip of france had all the templars in france arrested and their property sequestrated. this led to a tripartite dispute in which were involved the templars, the pope and the king. in fifty-four templar knights were burned alive in paris. at last the pope, to prevent their property from falling into secular hands, made over to the hospitallers most of the templar estates, excepting however those in spain. the grand master molay and another templar were burned to death on an island in the seine. so much then in brief, for purposes of contrast. now to the avowed subject of this paper. during the seventeenth century there rose a controversy as to the foundation of a hospital already in existence in jerusalem, named after the asmorean prince john hyrcanus, (the son and successor of simon maccabaeus, who restored the independence of judea and founded a monarchy over which his descendants reigned till the accession of herod. he died b. c.). this was at a time when the pious merchants of amalfi planned a refuge for their pilgrims. it was this john whom many suppose to have been the patron of the order, though it seems now clearly established that the first sponsor or the first st. john, in this connection, was the greek patriarch john surnamed eleëmon, or the charitable, because of his practical philanthropy. (see "st. john the almsgiver," rev. h. t. f. duckworth, ). but by the time the crusaders, under godfrey of bouillon, had taken jerusalem from the saracens, st. john baptist seems to have become the acknowledged patron saint of the hospital, his image being worn by epileptic patients, and being later adopted as the regular badge for those engaged in hospital work. but this term _hospital_ must not be regarded in its present acceptance; it was used in a broader sense to imply any house of refuge, even from wild animals; in fact a _hospice_. this particular hospice seems to have been erected on the ruins of one founded by st. gregory in , where it is known that the french benedictines worked. two centuries later charlemagne had claimed the title of protector of the pilgrims. ("de prime origine hospitaliorum," by la roulx. paris. ). this institution was naturally located in close proximity to the most sacred places, which early christian traditions made such to the pilgrims who came from all over western europe. it was in existence in . it was made doubly necessary by not only the hardships of travel, but by the ill usage of the natives, at a time when the holy city was in the hands of the moslems, who demanded an entrance fee often beyond the pilgrims' means. thus subjected to indignities indescribable, robbed often before their arrival, these misguided pilgrims often died of want, or returned with their primary pious object unattained. had it not been for one gerard, the first administrator of the hospice, their hardships had been even greater. the buildings of the order, at first meagre, were finally enlarged to cover a square, nearly ft. on each side, with one side on the via dolorosa and another fronting the bazaar, and all a little south of the church of the holy sepulchre. nearby were other churches and hospices. this was the arrangement before the establishment of the kingdom of jerusalem in . during the next century the order, under raymond du puy, had enlarged the church of st. john eleëmon into the conventual church of st. john baptist, while along the south of the square above mentioned ran an excellent building, the hospital of st. john. when saladin recaptured jerusalem, in , this church was converted by the turks into a mad-house, known as the "muristan," this being finally ceded to germany in . from the new kingdom of jerusalem the hospitallers obtained a constitution, and the gerard above mentioned was made their first "master." he was succeeded in by du puy, while baldwin ii was the latin king of jerusalem. the hospital had been recognized by the archbishop of caesarea in , and had widely extended its sphere of usefulness. it was king baldwin who was anxious to stamp upon the order a military character, similar to that conferred upon the order of the temple in . this was natural since the kingdom was isolated, surrounded by fanatic enemies and always beset by and in danger from them. thus the necessities of the times and the environment made it requisite that all who were able should bear arms, and coöperate for mutual defence. thus it came about that the order was divided into three divisions, the first in rank being the knights of justice, each of whom must be of noble rank or birth, and have received the accolade of knighthood from secular authority. the second division comprised the ecclesiastics, who were later divided into two grades, the conventual chaplains, who were assigned to duty at headquarters, and the priests of obedience who served other priories and commanderies in various parts of europe. the third grade were the serving brothers, also divided into the servants at arms or esquires, and the servants at office. the servants at arms attended the knights of justice as their esquires, and might eventually become eligible to the first division. the servants at office were little if anything more than menials or domestics. even these latter, however, possessed certain privileges and emoluments which made admission to this grade advantageous to men of humble origin and faculties. the dress of the order was a black robe with cowl, having a white linen cross of eight points over the left breast, and was at first worn by all. later, under pope alexander iv, the fighting knights wore their white crosses upon a ground gules. the first recorded appearance of a body of hospitaller knights in actual war was at antioch, in , while the complete military constitution of the order of st. john was achieved in . during the balance of the existence of the kingdom of jerusalem then, two colleges or companies of military monastic knights existed, side by side, in the holy land, the "chief props of a tottering throne." (bedford). between these rival bodies arose in time such jealousy, and within them such intrigues,--aggravated always by the animosities of the ordinary clergy, who took offense at the patronage bestowed upon the orders by the popes, aggravated also by similar difficulties on the part of the knights of the teutonic order and that of st. lazarus,--that the best interests of the kingdom and of the church suffered as much from intestine dangers as from those arising from the moslems surrounding them. nevertheless it may be said that the order of the hospital never lost sight of its primary purposes, and never disgraced itself by the treasonable and treacherous dealings, and correspondence with enemies which disgraced not a few members of other and rival christian organizations. the result of such disreputable actions lead--as ever--to disunion and final disruption, and this to final capitulation and surrender of jerusalem, in . this meant the abandonment not only of their old home, but of their usefulness there. the saracens occupied their buildings and premises from that time till ruin overtook them. thus rudely compelled to emigrate the order moved the same year ( ) to the town of margat, where was also a castle of the same name. but the work in jerusalem had not been abruptly discontinued, since sultan saladin, in evidence of his esteem, allowed them possession of their hospital for another year, in order that their charitable work should not be abruptly interrupted, and even made them liberal donations. when during the third crusade, in which richard coeur de lion bore so valiant a part, ptolemais was captured, it was then and there that the order established its headquarters, in , wherefore the town became named st. jean d'acre. here they abode nearly a century. various other towns in palestine held out for a time against the turks, e. g., carac, margat, castel blanco and antioch, and in spite of the intense rivalry between the orders, thierry, the grand master of the templars, reported in a letter to king henry ii, that the hospitallers bore themselves even with fervor and the greatest bravery, and praised the aid they gave in the capture of the turkish fleet, at tyre, when seventeen christian galleys manned by friars, and ten sicilian vessels commanded by general margarit, a catalan, defeated the infidels, and captured their admiral and eight emirs, with eleven ships, the rest being run aground, where saladin later burned them, to keep them from falling into christian hands. (bedford). notwithstanding all this, however, the joint occupation of acre with the templars had a bad effect on both orders, who turned not only to luxury and license, but their swords against each other. acre was at this time a most cosmopolitan city; here mingled at least seventeen different nationalities and languages, each occupying its own part of the city, so that in time extravagance and lust flourished to the last degree of demoralization. the hospitallers were at this time far more wealthy than the templars, who were exceedingly jealous thereof, and both at margat and still worse at acre this jealousy was exhibited in many bloody affairs. weakened thus by this intestine strife they were in reverse proportion strengthened. the pope who had defended them as against the scathing censure of emperor frederick, found need, in , to accuse the knights--alike of both orders--of sheltering loose women within their precincts, of owning individual property, both of these in violation of their vows of chastity and poverty, and of treacherously assisting the enemy. yet many bore witness to the actual good they accomplished, even at this time. in pope alexander, bewailing the lack of a more distinctive dress, permitted the decree that the fighting knights might wear black mantles, while in war they were permitted to wear red surcoats, with a white cross. later it was permitted to women to join the order, and many ladies of high degree took advantage of the permission, rivalling in religious zeal and in charitable deeds the most sanctified of the brethren. as the king of hungary wrote, at one time, after visiting some of their houses, "in a word the knights of st. john are employed, sometimes like mary in contemplation, and sometimes like martha in action, and this noble militia consecrate their days either in their infirmaries or else in engagements against the enemies of the cross." the deterioration of acre was not so great as to make cowards of our knights, however, and with the continued and aggressive siege laid by the saracens against that city the hospitallers and the templars finally made common cause, each endeavoring to outdo the other in deeds of bravery and daring. though defeated again and again, the moslem ranks were renewed by fresh soldiers, while the militant and other monks imprisoned within the city saw their combined members steadily diminish. at last it remained for john villiers, grand master, with his few surviving fighters, to carve their way to their boats, leaving no combatants behind them, and then to embark in their galleys to seek a harbor of refuge in the island of cyprus. _cyprus and rhodes._ settled in cyprus, the knights renewed their zeal and their resources. here they began to build that fleet of galleys which, increased later in rhodes, became most formidable. when they and the templars left forever the holy land the templars took the position that their vow to protect the holy places was now either fulfilled or at least at an end, and they distributed themselves among their numerous preceptories all over europe, where they made themselves _personae non gratae_ to their civil rulers, because of their own real power, their oriental ostentation, and their secularization and distasteful entrance into and interference with the social and political life and customs of their new environment. things went from bad to worse, public feeling was more and more aroused, and their extermination was only a matter of time. finally pope clement v and king phillip le bel undertook this task with barbarous ruthlessness. kings, nobility and the people joined hands in the common task. the templars had acquired various properties, by capture, by bequest, and in every lawful and unlawful manner, which yielded in the aggregate relatively enormous revenues, too strong a temptation for needy secular rulers to resist. the pope had at last to intervene in order to prevent the total secularization of all this great spoil, and thus it happened that no small proportion of it was, after its sequestration, allotted to the order of st. john, whose grand masters and knights had not forgotten nor abandoned their original vows and purposes, and who held that the inviolacy of their obligations required their continuous residence in some such oriental city as rhodes. and here we may part company, as did they, only quite peacefully, with the templar knights. driven from europe they made their last stand in great britain, and of their lives and deeds there we have no more readable nor interesting historical account than scott has given us in ivanhoe. any further allusion to them here will be most casual. they offer the conventional picture, only _in extenso_, of original poverty and self-abnegation, coupled with devotion and valor, changed to arrogance, treason, abandonment of purpose, unbridled lawlessness leading to crime and cruelty, all brought about because of affluence, acquired power, selfishness, cupidity and every debasing human weakness. small wonder then, that they could be no longer tolerated in christendom. so turn we again to the hospitallers, now made rich and powerful at the expense of their old rivals and at last enemies. it had soon been made evident that cyprus did not meet their wants and necessities. its king was not over friendly, and they sought further. their gaze fixed on the island of rhodes, which possessed a fertile soil, a city with an excellent harbor, not too far from the main land, i. e. not too isolated, which was under the--by that time merely nominal--suzerainty of the emperor of the eastern or greek empire. after several futile efforts they at last, in , under the twenty-fourth grand master villaret, captured the island, where under their ceaseless energy both hospitals and forts were built. to rhodes were brought also christian refugees from the various turkish provinces, and thus their numbers were rapidly strengthened. their fleet, already begun (_vide supra_) was greatly increased, and with it they had many a conflict with the turkish corsairs, whose inroads they practically checked. about the beginning of the fourteenth century changes had been made in the order, which was now divided into langues, or arranged according to nationalities, yet without materially altering the original division into the three classes (knights, chaplains and serving brothers). in this way the order was apportioned between seven nations or languages, provence, auvergne, france, italy, aragon, england and germany. finally under pressure from spain the langue of aragon was divided into two, aragon and castile, the latter including portugal. the various dignities and offices were divided among these langues, whose principals became a kind of privy council to the grand master, and were known as conventual bailiffs. they were given different names in each country; thus the grand commander of the english langue was known as the turcopolier, of france the grand hospitaller, of italy the admiral, etc. as the new fortifications arose around the city of rhodes, each was placed in charge of one of these langues or divisions, while each erected quarters for its own men. it did not follow, however, that every member of each langue came from the country which it represented. while scotland was an independent kingdom it contributed to the turcopolier, while many scotchmen belonged to the french or even the other langues. at this time the inhabitants of the city of rhodes consisted largely of christian refugees, who owed their security, even their lives, to the fact that the knights hospitaller still adhered to their primary objects, the liberation of the captive and giving assistance to the sick and distressed. this they afforded through their fleet and their hospices. when smyrna nearly fell into the hands of timour the tartar, about the middle of the fourteenth century, the order strengthened their harbor by erecting a new fort, which they named budrum (corrupted from petros-a rock), where any christian escaping from slavery found shelter. here was also kept a remarkable breed of dogs, who were trained not only as watch dogs but to render services similar to those afforded by the alpine dogs of st. bernard. as time went on the sultans became more and more jealous of the naval power possessed by the order. with the fall of the eastern empire and the final retaking of constantinople by mahomet ii, in (see "prince of india"), it was made evident that danger to the order from this direction was rapidly increasing. this became so urgent that in , after mahomet had taken the island of negropont, the grand master commanded that all members of the order should repair at once to rhodes. in d'aubusson began the most active measures for the defense of the place, and thus was ready for the attack, in may, , when , men in ships, landed on the island coast. in this siege no small part was played by renegade traitors, the most prominent being one george frapant, a german, whom the grand master finally hung in july. in the last sorties which terminated this siege deeds of the greatest bravery were performed; yet here we can only commemorate the fact that the turks were summarily defeated, leaving , corpses on the ground after the last decisive attack. the losses of the besieged were small as compared with those suffered by the turks. later in the same year the island suffered from a severe earthquake. mahomet died not long after this, was succeeded by his son bo-jazet who made truce with the order, presenting them with a relic of supposedly inestimable value, namely the hand of st. john, which the turks had taken at constantinople. years of comparative quietude succeeded until in the following century, in , solyman the magnificent landed upon the island in july, with , soldiers and , pioneers. again ensued all the horrors of a siege. the defenders did their part so bravely that the sultan publicly disgraced his generals. but the inevitable famine wrought consequent disaffection on the part of the native population, who clamored for capitulation, and sought treasonable terms therefor, because of which one of the most prominent of them was tried, found guilty and executed. finally under stress of circumstances no longer endurable grand master adam agreed to honorable surrender, and on the first of january, , the hospitaller knights relinquished the island, the sultan himself speaking in terms of extravagant praise of their heroism, while at the same time he scathingly censured the christian monarchs of europe who had failed to come to their relief. thus after two hundred and twenty years of occupation and rule of the island of rhodes, some , knights and other members of the order, and natives, left it to take abode for a short time in their priory at messina. driven from here by plague, they moved on to viterbo, while their grand master travelled in search of a new home. _malta._ malta had been early proposed for this purpose, and offered by charles v, while many wishes turned to the city of modon, in greece. after seven years of wandering and indecision grand master l'isle adam accepted malta as the best solution of the difficulty. thither the order now removed, and there adam died in the castle of st. angelo, erected by the norman count roger of sicily, still active in improving its existing defences. in the order lost nearly all of its fleet in consequence of a violent hurricane, which accident for a while laid the island open to piratical attacks, especially of a corsair named dragut; but he did little damage, save that with the knowledge of the island and its defences thus gained he persuaded solyman to undertake another attempt to crush the order, the latter being justly furious because some galleys belonging to the order had captured a ship that happened to be loaded with rich valuables belonging to the ladies of his harem. therefore war was again declared in . the turkish fleet was made up of galleys with smaller boats, and carried the janissaries and , other soldiers, against whom the grand master could only oppose some , men, of whom, however, were desperate men, released from the galleys of the enemy, and eager for vengeance. on may twenty-fourth the siege of st. elmo was in reality begun by a fierce bombardment, the walls being soon battered, and the garrison forced to take shelter in excavations made in the solid rock. and now the besiegers' force was augmented by the arrival of dragut, in those days the dreaded corsair of the sea, who came with thirteen more ships and , more men. june thirteenth saw a desperate conflict when, after six hours of fierce fighting and the loss of only men, the besiegers were repulsed. soon after this dragut was killed. again on june twenty-third another general attack was repulsed, though the garrison was thereby reduced to men. even this small force, many crippled and maimed, repulsed the first onslaught of the turks, but had later to sell their lives as dearly as they could. the turkish general mustapha took barbarous revenge, even on the corpses of the knights which he decapitated and then tied to planks that they might float past st. angelo. la vallette retaliated by beheading some of his captives and firing their heads at the turks from his cannon. at this juncture the garrison was reinforced by the arrival of men and knights from sicily. refusing all opportunities to surrender and all parley under flags of truce, grand master la vallette built new defences and strengthened the old, in spite of a fierce july sun. meanwhile the turks, also reinforced, prepared for still more desperate sorties, selecting for the land attack men who knew not how to swim, in order that they might fight the more fiercely, and drawing off the boats as soon as their loads were emptied, so that no retreat could be possible. one thousand janissaries were embarked in ten large barges, but nine of these were sunk by the artillery fire from the forts. on the other side of the defences a large attacking column was completely routed. the loss to the turks this day was , men, that of the garrison . and so the siege went on; attack after attack, with but small success to the investing army. but the heroic defenders suffered increasingly under the constant strain, and both armies were exhausted, the turks losing men from dysentery alone. to such an extent was this true that when the turkish officers drove their soldiers to the charge by blows of their own swords, it was but necessary to cut down those who led the charges, when the rest would turn and fly. and now came other long expected reinforcements from sicily, when a fleet landed , men and returned for , more. being now quite unequal to the continuation of the siege the turks evacuated all the ground they had gained, and finally made a hasty and complete flight, harassed in every way, in their endeavors to escape, by the now victorious garrison. the losses during the period of siege, with its numerous engagements, were estimated at some , turks, and , men and knights of the order. is it strange that by contributions from all over christian europe there was soon built up a town bearing the name of valetta, thus commemorating the heroism and military prowess of the order's grand master la valette, as well as the "glorious issue" of the struggle for malta, and the confirmation of the order as a sovereign independent community? thus secured from further probable struggle this city of valetta acquired a certain degree of glory, later even of magnificence. from all parts of europe, wherever any commandery of the order was maintained, was paid tribute to the grand master, as may be adjudged even to-day, long after french rapacity had robbed the city of many of its treasures. individual knights vied with each other in their gifts, and palaces arose wherein were received the envoys and even ambassadors of foreign courts. the fleet was constantly busied in clearing the mediterranean of moslem and other pirates, and many christians were released from the galleys in which they had been chained to the oars. in this restoration the english langue took a rather small part, and their officers and members had often to be rebuked or punished for insubordination or worse crimes. the reformation in england interfered, and furnished some reason for their diminishing zeal. the galleys of the order became more and more like pleasure boats, and many of their cruises were in effect pleasure excursions. later in their decadence their adventures became more like piratical incursions, until, under letters of marque issued by a decadent admiralty, the malta privateer was equivalent to the pirate. (maroyat). these facts were scarcely offset by that other, that the last fleet of the order, which left valetta in , was sent to the relief of earthquake sufferers in sicily. with regard to their activities in the matter of succoring the sick let it be noted that the knights found on their arrival at malta a hospital or hospice already existing. in the buildings of a nunnery still standing may be seen the gateway of their own first hospital. in they erected one much larger, which had a passageway connected with the waterfront, so that patients could be brought directly from the ships. this building in some part still remains in use as a military hospital. its great ward is feet in length, and feet high, divided by partitions feet in height. in its best days patients were served from silver utensils. it was under the charge of the regent of the french knights, who had as his staff five doctors and three apothecaries. other knights and servants acted as male nurses. the knights were luxuriously cared for, and beds were always in reserve for those returning from expeditions who might need them. in , only a year before the disintegration of the order began, the patients numbered from to . there existed also a hospital for women, with beds, and a foundling hospital where some fifty waifs were sheltered. a curious bit of history connecting the middle ages with the more recent past relates to the hospital interests of the order. the nobles of dauphigny had founded a fraternity of hospitallers for the relief of sufferers from st. anthony's fire (erysipelas), which was erected into the regular antoine order in . about years later, or to be exact in , a compact was made by which the order of st. john took over their property, under certain conditions, which involved, among other considerations, a larger expenditure. the antonine estates, in france and savoy, were confiscated in , thus entailing a tremendous loss to the order, so great, in fact that the valetta treasury became insolvent. (bedford). from this time we may date the rapid downfall of the order. malcontents and traitors gained the supremacy, and in , after treacherous negotiations, napoleon landed part of his army in malta, and valetta surrendered. thus, as bartlett says, "ignominiously came to a close, on june th, , the once illustrious order of st. john of jerusalem, having subsisted for more than years." at this time it consisted of enrolled knights, and a military force of some , men. napoleon expressed his surprise at the strength of the fortifications, furnished them with one thousand cannon, left a garrison of , men, took with him the disciplined soldiers he found there, rifled the island of its treasures, its art work and its bullion, and sailed for egypt. several of the traitor knights were put to death by the infuriated populace, whose anger was not appeased by nelson's victory at aboukir--the battle of the nile--but took form in open insurrection. the french garrison finally took refuge in the old fortifications, where they withstood for two years a siege by the combined insurgents and an english fleet. finally reduced by famine and disease they capitulated to the english forces under gen. pigot. the latter then selected capt. sir alexander ball, nelson's representative, governor of the island. at the peace of amiens the effort was made to restore the order as ruling authority, under the protectorate of the great powers, but the maltese themselves objected so vehemently that after no small amount of trouble and dispute the inhabitants of the island elected to place themselves under the sovereignty of great britain, an arrangement finally and definitely confirmed at the congress of vienna in . thus disappeared from history one of the most interesting and longest enduring institutions recorded in its pages, and certainly the most long-lived of any of its kind. i say disappeared, meaning thereby only to indicate its disruption, as it were into fragments, its primary purpose, i. e. aid to the needy, being kept ever in view by some, while others preferring the life of a soldier, took service under various rulers or military leaders. the traitors who were responsible for surrender to napoleon fared badly according to their deserts, though it does not appear that any of them were hung. in the migration england seemed to attract many, perhaps the majority of those who were still inclined to good deeds. the title of grand master was still continued, under some pretension to perpetuation of the order. in russia the czar alexander, in , upon the death of his predecessor paul, announced himself a protector of the order, and designated count soltikoff to exercise the functions of the grand master. thus dismembered, disunited and scattered, the fragmentary langues of the order underwent, on their way to final dissolution, various vicissitudes, through which they cannot here be followed. complete extinguishment was the eventual fate of most of them. i shall only concern myself now with that of the english langue, and its partial revival in . rev. dr. peat, chaplain to george iv, was one of those to whom the remnants of the english langue appealed, with the result that in certain notable english gentry, of eminent attainments, undertook to revive the order in england, only under quite different conditions from those previously obtaining. in dr. peat was invested with the authority and functions of grand prior. it will be at once seen how the matter of religious belief now separated the english order from all the survivors of the previous regime, and why the last ties were severed. under the new regime members of the order dropped all pretense of playing a military role; one may read thereafter of real hospital activity. the life boat movement and ambulance work were gradually incorporated into their plans and scope. when first aid to the injured began to be publicly taught public and general interest was quickly aroused, and the energetic cooperation of eminent men was assured. in other words the order gradually took up just that class of work which is now done under the red cross. sir edward lechmere established, in , a commandery of the order in one of his castles, and in was instrumental in the acquisition of the st. john gate, which still stands, an example of tudor architecture as also a well preserved monumental relic of the time, beginning about , when the order had founded a hospital in clerkenwell, while the ladies of the order were housed in bucland, in somersetshire. the old priory of the order in clerkenwell was practically destroyed in , by the mob led by jack straw, in an insurrection which had, along with other results, as an incident, the beheading of sir robert hales, the prior of the order. in the slow process of rebuilding the present gate was not completed till . on the north and south fronts remain projecting towers, while in the western tower a spiral stair case is still in use. bedford's work, from which i have drawn heavily, gives excellent pictures of the gate as it appears to-day, and of the old priory restored. colonel duncan, also, deserves honorable mention in this connection; he became director of the ambulance movement in . finally we have to record here that under a new charter, granted in , the then prince of wales, later king edward, became the grand prior. therefore the order of the hospital, in england of st. john of jerusalem is, in fact, the legitimate successor--one might say the lineal descendant--of the old order of knights hospitaller, though it is to-day a secular and voluntary society, keeping to the traditions of the past, no longer military nor militant, save as it fights disease and best of all teaches others how to do the same. to follow it further is no longer necessary. its work is essentially that of the red cross. it has, for instance, a depot at old st. john's gate, whence all the material required in teaching and illustrating as well as rendering first aid is issued. its work was begun with a two-wheeled litter, an old esmarch triangular bandage from germany, and a stretcher from france. now it distributes all these things throughout the british empire. now, too, it maintains ambulances all over the city of london, which do for their own hospitals just what each of our hospitals at home has to do for itself. the german "samariter-verein" is virtually a chapter of the english order in its revivified form. in a branch of the order was organized in india, where among others the native police are instructed in "first aid." in , by a firman of the turkish sultan, an ophthalmic hospital was opened, under the auspices of the order, in jerusalem. only those who have travelled in the east can appreciate what this means to the poor, where squalor vies with ignorance, and, as in egypt though not so universally, both conspire to the ruin of that greatest of all blessings--eyesight. but i will not delay to write further of what the ambulance brigade of london, and its affiliated corps, have accomplished in many parts of the world; in south africa, for example, it works under the general supervision of the order of st. john, as it now exists in london. it does everything that in our country is accomplished by the red cross for the general public, and by the hospital corps and their medical officers for our army and navy. over the graves of eleven members of the brigade, who died at their posts in south africa, in st. paul's, london, not far from the crypts where lie the remains of nelson and wellington, has been erected a monument to their memory. another bearing among other inscriptions this beautiful scriptural quotation:--"greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends," was unveiled by his royal highness, acting as grand prior, in st. john's church, clerkenwell, june th, . fifteen hundred men enrolled in the order had left that church before their departure for the front, and of these about seventy sacrificed their lives to this sort of duty. do not the dead deserve all praise and respect, and the survivors all commendation? a few years ago my friend sir george beatson, surgeon to the royal infirmary in glasgow, published a little monograph--"the knights hospitallers in scotland and their priory at torphichen" (printed by hedderwick and sons, glasgow,)--which aroused my interest sufficiently to prompt a visit to this, the last home of the old order in that part of the world. the little village torphichen lies about midway between glasgow and edinburgh, and three miles south from the town of llinlithgow. here had been founded, in , one of the great priories or preceptories under control of the english _langue_. here they settled in a magnificent and fertile area, the grampian hills to their north; to their west could be seen the snow-capped top of what is now known as ben lomond. by donation, by cultivation of the arable soil, and by wise management of their resources, they prospered greatly, from the worldly point of view. here they erected that building, a part of which still exists, and which makes a picturesque ruin which is not yet a scene of desolation. the members of the order took, here as elsewhere, the view that the best way to serve god was by _remaining in it_ and working, not by _fleeing from it_ into lazy, selfish and profitless solitude as did too many of the monks. in common with other monasteries the torphichen preceptory possessed the right of sanctuary, and in its churchyard still stands the short stone pillar, carved with a maltese cross on its upper surface, which meant that within a mile in every direction therefrom all those charged with any crime, save murder only, might find temporary protection. here for four hundred years, and until the reformation upset everything, the hospitallers carried on their affairs. in their last preceptor or grand prior made over to the crown all their properties and effects. the crown in return made these possessions a temporal barony, carrying with it the title of lord of torphichen. from this time the property began to suffer--from time, storm, vandalism of the people and neglect. still the present lord torphichen has proven himself a better guardian than did some of his predecessors. a parish church has been built, partly upon the sight of the old structure, partly into it. dr. beatson has urged that a combination between the present order of st. john, in london, and the st. andrew's ambulance association might be effected which might work to the benefit of both, by reviving some of the work done here in days gone by. i have ventured this brief reference to torphichen, partly because of my interest in the place itself, associated with my visit there, and partly because every such visit to the monuments of past grandeur and usefulness should strengthen our interest and zeal in what man is accomplishing to-day, and should help link together the past and the present in a manner not merely fascinating but inspirational, and keep us from forgetting that motto of the order, "pro utilitate hominum" for the welfare of mankind. vii giordano bruno the renaissance was the fourth of the great events in the history of the christian era; the first being the decline of rome, the second the introduction of the christian cult, and the third, the intrusion into southern europe of the teutonic and slavonic tribes. with none of these however, save the fourth, is this paper primarily concerned, and not even with the fourth save indirectly, though it deals with a special feature of it. protestants and catholics alike impeded progress and the self-evolution of reason in every possible way. italy gave the world the roman republic, then the roman empire and finally the roman church; after that arose a new storm centre in the north which swept toward the mediterranean. the teutons effaced the western empire, adopted christianity, and completely modified what remained of latin civilization. then the roman bishops separated the latin from the greek church, and under the captious title of the holy roman empire bound western europe into what has been called a "cohesive whole." while romans and teutons never actually blended homogeneously, they had yet a common bond of union. when this coalition was for a time freed from both papacy and empire--then began intellectual activity and independence of thought, taking form in italy as the renaissance; in germany as the reformation. in the south it was known as the revival of learning. it furnished a _lux a non lucendo_. italy gave freedom rather to the mind, germany rather to the soul. toward the south men still took refuge behind that form of modified paganism which became catholicism. in the north they attained a more complete emancipation because of their violent opposition to the papacy and all that went with it. in the long run both attained the same result, i. e., liberation of the mind from artificial impediments and fetters, though they of the north achieved it in its full extent far earlier. (i am speaking of course, relatively; men's minds are far from free even today, but the state we have reached is a great advance upon that of bruno's time). the reformation led men to be far more outspoken than they dared be in the south; the free thinkers of italy were still content to do homage to a thoroughly corrupt papal hierarchy. as critics and warriors luther and calvin rank as liberators of the human mind, but later, as founders of mutually hostile sects, they only retarded civilization, and the churches they founded are today as stagnant pools. in , in the midst of this stormy period in italian history bruno was born, in the little village of nola, not far from naples, whence vesuvius was visible in the picturesque distance. his father was a soldier, his mother of very humble origin. of his family history nothing is known; little explanation is thus afforded, by the doctrine of heredity, for the marvelous mental faculties which he subsequently displayed. nevertheless his father was a man of some culture, at least, for he was a friend of tansillo, a poet, under whose influence the growing boy subsequently came. bruno has told us himself how one savolino (probably an uncle) annually confessed his sins to his curé, of which "though many and great" his boon companion readily absolved him. but only once was full confession necessary; each subsequent year savolino would say: "padre mio, the sins of a year--to-day,--you may know them;" to which the curé would reply "son, thou knowest the absolution of one year ago;--go in peace, and sin no more." in those days as in many others superstition was everywhere rife and effective. its influence must not be disregarded as one studies the formation of bruno's character. when he was about eleven years old bruno was sent to naples to be taught logic, dialectics and humanities. when fifteen he entered the dominican monastery in naples, and assumed the clerical habit of that order. here he gave up his baptismal name of filippo and assumed that of giordano, according to the monastic custom. in he was ordained priest. his reasons for thus entering the church are scarcely far to seek. of intellectual bent, and studious rather than martial in his habits and inclinations, there was but one career open to him. to be sure the dominican order was the most narrow and most bigoted of all, as the current punning expression "_domini canes_" will indicate. still it was at that time the most powerful, especially in the kingdom of naples, which was then ruled by spain. the old cloister had been once the home of st. thomas aquinas, whose works bruno claimed at his trial he had always by him, "continually reading, studying and restudying them, and holding them dear." this was the age when efforts to put down every heresy had been redoubled. the fanaticism of loyola, and the decision of the council of trent "to erase with fire and sword the slightest traces of heresy," made a poor frame work in which to place the picture of a liberal minded scholar. bruno soon learned this at his cost. even during his novitiate he was accused of giving away images of the saints, and of giving bad advice to his associates. in he was accused of apologizing for the heresy of arius, that the son was begotten of the father, and so not consubstantial nor coeternal with him, but created by him and subordinate to him; (which was condemned by the council of nice, , and contradicted in the nicene creed;) admiring its scholastic form, rather than its abstract truth. disgusted with his treatment he left naples and went to rome. even here he was molested in the cloister of minerva (note the pagan name), and was met with an accusation of specifications. he then abandoned his garb and his cloister and escaped from rome, beginning thus the nomadic life which he continued until immured in the dungeons of the inquisition at venice, sixteen years later. through these wanderings one must follow him, if one would become familiar with his life and traits. he now resumed for a time his baptismal name, and traveled to a town on the gulf of genoa, where he taught youth and young gentlemen. then he passed on to turin and venice, where he spent weeks in futile attempts to find work. but the schools and the printing houses were closed because of the plague. in venice however he managed to print his first book on "the signs of the times;" or rather this was his first book to appear in print. it seems that before he left naples he wrote "the ark of noah," a satirical allegory. in this he represented that the animals held a formal meeting in the ark, to settle questions of precedence and rank, and that the presiding officer, the ass, was in danger of losing his position and his influence, because his power lay rather in hoofs than horns. throughout most of his life bruno constantly scored and criticised asinity; it was frequently the topic of his invective, and those who read between his lines were probably quite justified in regarding these frequent allusions as references to the ignorance, bigotry and credulity of the monks. from venice bruno went to padua, where some of the dominican friars persuaded him to resume monastic costume, since it made travel easier and safer. thence by way of brescia and milan he may be followed to bergamo. at milan he first heard of his future friend sir philip sydney. from bergamo he resolved to go to lyons, but learning that he would find anything but welcome there he turned aside and crossed the alps, arriving in geneva in the spring of . here he was visited by a distinguished neapolitan exile, the marquis de vico, who persuaded him again to lay aside his clerical garb, and who gave him the dress of a gentleman, including a sword. here is raised the great question,--did bruno adopt calvinism? before the inquisition fifteen years later he practically denied this, yet acknowledged attending the lectures of balbani, of lucca, as well as of others who taught and preached in geneva. under the regulations of the academy (university), where he had already registered, certain regulations must be complied with, and bruno appears to have obeyed them in at least a certain degree. but the immediate cause for his departure from geneva appears to have been one of his outbreaks of cynicism and accurate scholarship, since in he was called before the council for having caused to be printed a document enumerating twenty errors made by the professor of philosophy (de la faye) in one of his lectures. the latter was incensed and outraged at this criticism and disparagement of his views and learning, and the quarrel assumed unexpected magnitude, since bruno, on his second appearance before the consistory or supreme tribunal of the church, denied the charges and called the ministers "pedagogues." these gentlemen decided to refuse him communion unless he should confess and repent of his faults and make due apology. his acceptance of these conditions not being hearty enough to suit his judges, he was admonished and excluded from the communion. these steps lead to greater contrition on his part, and the ban of excommunication was withdrawn. this sentence of exclusion was the only one within the power of the consistory to pass, but does not prove that bruno had accepted the protestant faith, nor partaken of its communion. in fact at his trial he steadfastly denied this. it seemed however, to disgust him with calvinism, against which thereafter he never ceased to inveigh. later he contrasted it with lutheranism which was far more tolerant, and still later gave him a heartier welcome. calvin, it must be remembered, had written a polemic against servetus, "in which it is shown to be lawful to coerce heretics by the sword." as between the council of trent and calvin it certainly must have been hard, in those days, to select either a faith, or an abiding place where that faith might be peaceably practised. doubtless bruno's views concerning the philosophy of aristotle conflicted with those of the church authorities, for beza (calvin's follower), had stated that they did not propose to swerve one particle from the opinions of that greek philosopher, to whom, though of pagan origin, the church, both roman and protestant, was for centuries so firmly bound. and so shaking the dust of geneva from his feet he journeyed to lyons, where he failed utterly to find occupation, and then on to toulouse, where he remained about two years. here he took a doctorate in theology in order to compete for a vacant chair. to this he was elected by the students, as the custom then was in most of the _scholia_ or universities. for two sessions he lectured on aristotle. had this university required of him that he should attend mass, as did some others, he could not have done so, owing to his excommunication; though just why exclusion from a calvinistic academy should debar him from catholic mass does not appear. toulouse was a _warm_ place for heretics; the burning of , of them at its capture will prove this. a few years ( ) after he left it vanini was burned for heretic notions. it is hardly to be believed that bruno could pass two years or more here without controversies arising from his teaching. but his nominal reason for leaving, in , and going to paris, was the war then raging in southern france, under henry of navarre. before leaving toulouse he completed his "_clavis magna_" or "great key," the last word--as he seemed to think--on the art of memory. only one volume of this great work, which, in his peculiarly egotistical way, he said is "superlatively pregnant," was ever published, and that in england, the "_sigillus sigillorum_." it must not be forgotten that it was on both teaching and practising this art of memory that bruno, throughout his career, prided himself. he was even not averse, at least at certain periods of his career, to the belief that he had some secret system for this purpose, or even received occult aid. but when summoned before henry iii, to whose ears had come his fame, and asked whether the memory he had and the art he professed were natural or due to magic, he proved that a good memory was a cultivated natural product. he then dedicated to the king a book on "_the art of memory_." but this was shortly after his arrival in paris, in , where he quickly became famous. a course of thirty lectures on "_the thirty divine attributes_" of st. thomas aquinas would have given him a chair, could he have attended mass. his residence in paris was marked by an extraordinary literary activity. he published in succession _de umbris idearum_ (shadow of ideas), dedicated to henry iii, (this included the art of memory just mentioned) _cantus circaeus_ (incantation of circe) dedicated to prince henry; _de compendiosa architectura et complemento artis lulli_ (compendious architecture); _il candelaio_ (the torchbearer); these all appeared in . these varied greatly in character. the first was devoted to the metaphysics of the art of remembering, with an analysis of that faculty, and these second was given up to the same general topic. it was all obscure, hence perhaps its popularity. brunnhofer says that it was "a convenient means of introducing bruno to strange universities, gaining him favor with the great, or helping him out of pressing need of money. it was his exoteric philosophy with which he could carefully drape the philosophy of a religion hostile to the church, and ride as a hobby horse in his unfruitful humors." nevertheless we must believe in his sincerity. the "compendious architecture" is the first of his works in which bruno deals with the views of raymond lully, a "logical calculus and mnemonic scheme in one" (mcintyre) that had many imitators. for lully bruno seems to have the greatest regard, this appearing in many ways. lully, by the way, was a spanish scholastic and alchemist, who was born on one of the balearic islands in . he went as a missionary to the mahommedans, and spent much time in asia and africa. he figures largely in the history of the alchemists and as a practitioner of the occult. the "torchbearer" was a work of very different character. it was described as a "comedy" by one who described himself as "academico di nulla academia, ditto il fastidito: in tristitia hilaris, hilaritate tristis." it is essentially a satire on the predominant vices of pedantry, superstition and selfishness or sordid love. though lacking in dramatic power it is regarded as second to nothing of its kind and time. its _dramatis personae_ are personified types, not individuals. it was realistic even in its vulgarity, for obscenity was prevalent in the literature of those days. but in it bruno struck at what seemed to him his greatest enemy, i. e. pedantry. there were at this time in paris two great universities, one the college de france, with liberal tendencies, and opposed to the jesuits and all pedantry; the other the sorbonne, for centuries the guardian of the catholic faith, endowed with the right of censorship, which must have been exercised over bruno's works. in which of these, though surely in one of them, bruno was made an extraordinary lecturer history has failed to record. he must have offended both, since he was anxious to be taken back into the church, yet was revolutionary in his teaching. more than thirty years later nostitz, one of his pupils, paid tribute to his versatility and skill, saying "he was able to discourse impromptu on any suggested subject, to speak extensively and elaborately without preparation, so that he attracted many pupils and admirers in paris." (mcintyre). but bruno belonged to the literally peripatetic school, and in he forsook paris for london, because as he says of "tumults," leaving it to the imagination whether these were civil or scholastic. elizabeth reigned at this time; her influence made england a harbor of safety for religious and other mental suspects. she had a penchant for italians and their language; two of her physicians were italians, and florio was ever welcome at her court. to this court bruno also was welcomed, and, basking for sometime in the sunshine of her regard and patronage, passed there the happiest portion of his unhappy life. oxford was at that time the stronghold of aristotelianism. one of its statutes ordained that "bachelors and masters who did not follow aristotle faithfully were liable to a fine of five shillings for every point of divergence, and for every fault committed against the logic of the organon." (mcintyre). in oxford at this time, unfortunately, theology was the only live issue; of science as of real scholarship there was little or none. (its predominant trait of those days is still, perhaps, its dominant feature to-day). to this university bruno addressed a letter, couched in vainglorious and egotistical terms, craving permission to lecture there. this was not received with favor, while his doctrines met with small encouragement at this ancient seat of learning, which bruno later stigmatized as the "widow of true science." but opportunity was afforded him to dispute publicly before a noble visitor in june, , a polish prince; one alasco, for whom great public entertainment had been provided. his opponent, defeated by fifteen unanswerable syllogisms, resorted to scurrility and abuse. this public exhibition put an end to the lectures on the immortality of the soul which bruno had been allowed to give, and he returned to london. shortly after this he published his _cena_ (ash wednesday supper) in which he ridiculed the oxford doctors, saying among other things that they were much better acquainted with beer than with greek. but he criticised too cynically and lost thereby in popularity. this led to the appearance of the _causa_, a dialogue, in which he was less vindictive. he admitted in this that there was much in the old institution which was admirable; that it was even the first in europe, that speculative philosophy first flourished there, and that thence, "the splendor of one of the noblest and rarest spheres of philosophy, in our times almost extinct, was diffused to all other academies in civilized lands." what he most condemned was the too great attention given to language and words while the realistics for which words stand were neglected. doctors were easily made and doctorates too cheaply bought. his charge in brief was that they mistook the shadow for the substance; a charge even yet too commonly justified among the strongholds of theology and other speculative dogmas. returning to london after this experience bruno went to live with mauvissiere, the french ambassador. while the english records make no mention of his presence it is yet quite certain that he was frequently at court, and that men like sydney, greville, temple and others were his frequent associates. but as the ambassador's influence was on the wane, he was not equal to his great trust. at this time our philosopher spoke of himself as one "whom the foolish hate, the ignoble despise, whom the wise love, the learned admire," etc. (mcintyre). of queen elizabeth he wrote in most fulsome phrases, such as she too dearly loved. before his judges, a few years later, bruno apologized for his exaggerated expressions concerning a protestant ruler, claiming that when he spoke of her as "divine" he meant it not as a term of worship, but as an epithet like those which the ancients bestowed upon their rulers; claiming further that he knew he erred in thus praising a heretic. bruno published seven works in england. the first was "_explicatio triginta sigillorum_," the thirty seals thus explained being hints for acquiring, arranging and remembering all arts and sciences. to it was added his _sigillus sigillorum_ for comparing and explaining all mental operations. then came an italian dialogue "_la cena de le ceneri_" or ash wednesday supper. this was written in praise and extension of the copernican theory, indeed quite exceeding it in teaching the identity of matter, the infinity of the universe, the possibility of life on other spheres, with a painstaking attempt to show that these notions do not conflict with those of mother church. next came "_de causa, principio et uno_." (cause, principle and unity). this treated of the immanence of spirit, the eternity of matter, the potential divinity of life, the origin of sin and death, and many other similar abstruse topics. it was followed by _de l'infinito universo ed mondi_, with numerous reasons for believing the universe to be infinite and full of innumerable worlds, with the divine essence everywhere pervading. all these works appeared in . in appeared his "_spacio de la bestia triofante_" or expulsion of the triumphant beast. in this prose poem jupiter, repenting his errors, resolves to expel the many beasts that occupy his heavenly sphere--the constellations--and to substitute for them the virtues. in the council of the gods convened by him many subjects are discussed, among them the history of religions, the contrasts between natural and revealed religions and the fundamental forms of morality. in this allegory jupiter represents of course the human spirit; the bear, the scorpion, etc., are the vices to be expelled. unfortunately the book was quite generally regarded as attack upon the church or the pope, though what he really struck at was the credulity of mankind. it was dedicated to sir philip sydney. then came his "_cabala del cavallo pegasio_" or cabal, dedicated to a suppositious bishop who was made to impersonate the spirit of ignorance and sloth. it is a mordant satire on asinity, including credulity and unquestioning faith. after this he dedicated another work to sidney. "_degl' heroici furori_" (enthusiasms of the noble), a collection of sonnets with prose commentaries, like dante's _vita nuova_, touching on the love for spiritual beauty arising from that for physical beauty attaining a climax in a sort of ecstasy by union with the divine. these sonnets possess a very high literary value aside from their other interest. when his ambassadorial patron was recalled bruno probably returned to paris with him, during the latter part of . here he spent a year amidst constant turmoil and excitement, and at his own expense. though he attempted reconciliation with the church he was regarded as an apostate. he held one more public disputation in which he advanced one hundred and twenty theses against the teaching of the sorbonne, his side being taken by its rival, the college de france. the outcome cannot have been brilliantly favorable, since he soon after left paris, in june, . the collection of charges above alluded to was published in paris after bruno's departure, and again in wittenberg, under the title "_excubitor_" (the ambassador). it was an arraignment of the aristotelians, based on the words of that great master himself. bruno claimed the same right to criticise aristotle that the latter claimed to criticise his predecessors. in it bruno says, "it is a poor mind that will think with the multitude because it is a multitude; truth is not altered by the opinions of the vulgar or the confirmation of the many;"--and again--"it is more blessed to be wise in truth in face of opinion than to be wise in opinion in face of truth." (mcintyre, p. ). in addition to this bruno had also published, before leaving paris, a commentary on the physics of aristotle. tarrying somewhat by the wayside bruno reached wittenberg, where, in , he matriculated at its university, marburg having curtly rejected him. describing him here mcintyre styles him the "knight errant of philosophy." here lutheranism dominated the theological faculty, while the philosophical faculty was dominated by calvinism; views concerning the person of christ, the "real presence," and the doctrine of predestination keeping them apart in spite of melancthon's attempt to reunite the two factions. from the lutheran party bruno obtained permission to lecture, and so for two years he taught from the organon of aristotle, as well as the writings of raymond lulli. to the university senate he dedicated a work on lulli, "_de lampade combinatoria lulliana_," whose chief purpose was to teach one how to find "an indefinite number of propositions and middle terms for speaking and arguing." he regarded it as the only key to the lullian writings, as well as a clue to a great many of the mysteries of the pythagoreans and cabalists. it was soon followed by "_de progressu et lampade venatoria logicorum_," intended to enable one to "dispute promptly and copiously on any subject." but again fate compelled a change of residence, for the calvanistic and ducal party gained in political ascendancy, to which party bruno, as a copernican, would have appeared as a heretic. after delivering an eloquent address of farewell he moved on, his next abiding place being prague, where rudolph ii, of bohemia, was posing as the friend of all learned men. here he already had friends at court, and here he introduced himself with another lullian work. to the emperor he next dedicated a work of iconoclastic type, "one hundred and sixty articles against the mathematicians and philosophers of the day." for this the emperor granted him the sum of three hundred dollars, and in january, , he shifted again to helmstadt, in brunswick, where he matriculated again in the then youngest of the german universities. this had been founded only twelve years before by duke julius, who was extremely liberal in his views, and intended to found a model institution, in which theology should not play too dominant a part. but while he received here a certain recognition fate again sported with him, for the duke died four months after his arrival. bruno obtained permission to pronounce a funeral oration, desiring to express his gratitude to the memory of one who had opened such an institution, so free to all lovers of the muses and to exiles like himself, who were here protected from the greedy maw of the roman wolf, whereas in italy he had been chained to a superstitious cult. it was full of allusions to the papal tyranny which was infecting the world with the rankest poison of ignorance and vice. the fatuous simplicity and the worldly blindness which bruno displayed, in ever setting foot inside of italian or papal territory after the delivery of this _oratio consolatoria_, may in one way be appreciated but never understood or explained. moreover he had made himself _persona non grata_ as well to the protestants, who were scarcely more liberal than the catholics. it appears that the great boethius, superintendent of the church at helmstadt, had acted both as judge and executioner, and publicly excommunicated bruno without a hearing, since there is extant a letter appealing from his arbitrary judgment and malice. the grounds for this judgment were never made clear, since no attention was ever paid to the appeal; but inasmuch as bruno never really joined the protestant profession it must have been meant to inflict some species of social ostracism. boethius had himself to be suppressed later. but bruno, finding too many enemies, left for frankfort in , "in order to get two books printed." these were his two great latin works, "de minimo" and "de immenso," the introduction to the latter being the "de monade." he worked at these with his own hands. in the introduction to the former his publisher stated that before its final revision bruno had been hurriedly called away by an unforseen chance. this sudden departure may have been due to a refusal of the town council to permit his residence there, or it may have been a call to zürich, where he spent a few months with one hainzel, who had a leaning toward the black arts. bruno wrote for him "_de imaginum compositione_," a manual of his art of memory. in this swiss city he also dictated a work "_summa terminorum metaphysicorum_," which was not published until , and then in marburg. but bruno returned to frankfort in , where he obtained permission to publish his _de minimo_. this work was on the "three fold minimum and measurement, being the elements of three speculative and several practical sciences." this like the two next mentioned was a latin poem, after the fashion of lucretius. the _de monade, numero et figura_ dealt with the monad, and with the elements of a more esoteric science, while in the _de immenso et innumerabilibus_, the immeasurable and innumerable, he dealt with the universe and the worlds. these three poems contain bruno's complete philosophy of god and nature. while thus staying in frankfort for the second time bruno was invited by a young venetian patrician to pay him a visit, and become his tutor in those arts in which the philosopher excelled. it was the most unfortunate event in bruno's unhappy life when he accepted this apparently tempting invitation. mocenigo, his host, was of good family, but shallow, vain, weak-minded and dishonest, with the fashionable taste of his day for the black arts. it is quite possible that he was moreover the tool of the inquisition, which had long desired to entrap bruno. it is probable moreover that the latter quite failed to appreciate how unenviably he was regarded by that church to which he still felt that he belonged. furthermore venice was then a republic and free, and he longed for his beloved italy again. en route to venice he spent three months in padua, teaching there and gathering around himself pupils, even in that short time. he had barely left it when galileo was invited there to teach; as riehl has said, "the creator of modern science following in the steps of its prophet." early in bruno went to live in mocenigo's house. trouble soon began. entirely apart in temperament and characteristics, they soon disagreed. the pupil was deeply disappointed at not acquiring that mastery over the secrets of nature for which he had hoped, and found that there was no quick way to acquire a retentive and replete memory. and so mocenigo announced to his friend ciotto, the bookseller, his intent to gain from bruno all he could and then denounce him to the holy office. while others were thus conspiring against him bruno was writing a work on "the seven liberal arts" and on "seven other inventive arts," intending to present it to the pope, hoping thus to obtain absolution and be released from the ban of excommunication. when bruno at last appreciated the dangers by which he was surrounded he announced his intent to go again to frankfort to have some of his books printed, and so took his leave of mocenigo. on the following day, in may, , bruno was seized by six men, using force, who locked him in an upper story of mocenigo's house. the next day he was transferred to an underground cellar, and the following night to the prison of the inquisition. may rd his former host denounced him, with a cunning and lying statement concerning some of his views and teachings. thus he was reported as stating that christ's miracles were only apparent, that he and the apostles were magicians, that the catholic faith was full of blasphemies against god, that the friars befouled the world and should not be allowed to preach, that they were asses, and the doctrines of the church were asses' beliefs, etc. (mcintyre). this was followed two days later by a second denunciation in which mocenigo went to a diabolical extreme of deceit and hypocrisy; stating that all the time he was entertaining bruno he was promising himself to bring him before the holy office. within forty-eight hours the holy tribunal met to consider the matter; before them appeared the book-sellers who had known bruno in zürich and frankfort, and before them came bruno in his own behalf, professing his entire willingness to tell the whole truth. within a few days mocenigo made yet another deposition, denouncing bruno's statements about the infallible church. on the following day bruno was again heard in his own defense, and appealed to the famous and fallacious doctrine of two-fold truth, acknowledging that he had taught too much as a philosopher rather than as an honest man and christian, and that he had based his teachings too much on sense and reason and not enough on faith;--so specious had become his argument with the terrors of the inquisition before him. he further claimed that his intent had been not to impugn the faith but to exalt philosophy. he then beautifully epitomized his own views, claiming that he believed in an infinite universe, in an infinite divine potency, holding it unworthy of an infinite power to create a finite world, when he could produce so vast an infinity; with pythagoras he regarded this world as one of many stars,--innumerable worlds. this universe he held to be governed by a universal providence, existent in two forms;--one nature, the shadow or footprint of deity, the other the ineffable essence of god, always inexplicable. concerning the triune godhead he confessed certain philosophic doubts as well as concerning the use of the term "_persons_" in these distinctions, while he quoted st. augustine to the same effect. the miracles he had always believed to be divine and genuine; concerning the holy mass and the transubstantiation he agreed with the church. as the days went by he became the more insistent upon his orthodoxy. he condemned the heretic writings of melancthon, luther and calvin, expressed respect for the writings of lulli because of their philosophical bearings, while for st. thomas aquinas he had the most profound regard. other counts in the indictment which he had to face were his doubts concerning the miracles, the sacraments and the incarnation, his praise of heretics and heretic princes and his familiarity with the magic arts. he finally made a formal solemn abjuration of all the errors he had ever committed, and the heresies he had ever uttered, or doubts expressed or believed, praying only that the holy office would receive him back into the church where he might rest in peace. further examinations were held and the earlier processes against him in naples and rome recalled. after this there was a period of apparent quiet save that he remained in prison. it is not known to what tortures he may have been subjected, but it is recorded that he knelt before his judges asking their pardon, and god's, for all his faults, and professed himself ready for any penance, apparently not yet realizing the fate in store for him. a little later it transpired that the sacred congregation of the supreme tribunal of the holy office, in rome, desired to assume all further responsibility for the process against so distinguished a heretic. accordingly the machinery of the church was put in motion to this end. negotiations with the venetian republic, somewhat tedious and complicated, which need not detain us now, were at last concluded. january , , the venetian procurator reported of bruno that "his faults were exceedingly grave in respect of heresies, though in other respects he was one of the most excellent and rarest natures, and of exquisite learning and knowledge," (mcintyre) but that the case was of unusual gravity, bruno not a venetian subject, the pope most anxious, etc. it was then decided to remit him to the tribunal of the inquisition at rome; whereat it is duly reported, the pope was deeply gratified. to rome then he went and here he was lost, so far as documentary records go, for a period of six years. how to explain this fact and this apparent clemency has bothered the biographers not a little. whether this time was spent in an examination of his voluminous writings, which would seem incredible, or whether the dominicans labored so long to procure his more absolute recantation in order to prevent scandal in and reflection on their order, or whether pope clement himself regarded kindly--in some degree-- the great scholar who was so anxious to dedicate to him a _magnum opus_;--to these queries history answereth not. the dominicans pretended--years later--to doubt if he ever had been put to death, or whether he had ever really belonged to their order. these statements are too characteristic to provoke more than a sad smile. finally matters were hastened to an end by the efforts of fathers commisario and bellarmino; the latter being the zealous bigot who decided that copernicanism was a heresy, who later laid the indictment against galileo. through their machinations bruno was, in february, , decreed on eight counts as a dangerous heretic, who might still admit his heresies, and he was to be granted forty days in which to recant and repent. but this period was stretched out some ten months, until december, when it was reported that bruno refused to recant, having nothing to take back. among the tribunal at this time was san severino, fanatical, bitter because of his failure to secure the papacy, who had declared that st. bartholomew's was "a glorious day, a day of joy for catholics." it was decided that the high officers of the dominicans should make one last effort to compel or coax bruno to abjure. this he declined to do, whereupon, january th, , it was decreed that "further measures be proceeded to, _servatis servandis_, that sentence be passed, and that the said friar giordano be handed over to the secular authority." a few days later bruno was degraded, excommunicated and handed over to the governor of rome, with the usual hypocritical recommendation to "mercy," and that he be punished "without effusion of blood," which meant of course burning at the stake. bruno's reply to his judges deserves to be printed in letters of gold whenever it can be recorded;--"_greater perhaps is your fear in pronouncing my sentence than mine in hearing it._" let us spare ourselves a too minute account of his execution. some reports are to the effect that his tongue was tied, because he refused to listen to the exhortations of those members of the company of st. john the beheaded, better known as the brothers of the misericordia, who accompanied the condemned to the scaffold or the stake, resorting to the most cruel methods in order to provoke at least some appearance of recantation or repentance during the last moments of life. right here let it be said of bruno that whatever may have been his weaknesses before the inquisition at venice, he stood firmly by his creed when put to the final test, and died an ideal martyr's death because his creed did not agree with that of his persecutors. and so terminated the life of one of italy's greatest ornaments and scholars. the occasion had not then the importance we assign it now. the burning of a heretic was a frequent spectacle, and the year was the year of jubilee, in which the death of one unbeliever more was but the incident of a day. he had himself foreseen it, saying, "torches, fifty or a hundred, will not fail me, even though the march past be at mid-day, should it be my fate to die in roman catholic country." there remains yet to comment on his character and to analyze his views. the greatest blot upon the former is his attitude before the venetian tribunal. here he was at first defiant, even polemical, strong in his asserted right to use the natural light of sense and reason. under greater stress he modified this to one of absolute and indignant denial, and finally became submissive to the last degree, cringing and finally begging for pardon on bended knees. that this attitude changed with his better realization of his predicament is undeniable. moreover what keen and sensitive natures may do under the influence of torture is never to be predicated. how many of us could resist the persuasiveness of the rack when it came to modifying our beliefs? but whatever may have been his weakness at that time, he completely rehabilitated himself before his end, for were not his ashes scattered to the winds as a token that he completely failed to recant? surely no martyr to science or dogma ever died a more dignified death, for the edification or example of others. what shall be said of his persecutors and prosecutors? let us here be charitable; let us be just. have we yet that absolute knowledge of right and wrong which can enable us to pass final judgment on men of the past, their motives and actions? moral perceptions are the product of the race, the age and the environment; they vary greatly with the times. there is no crime in or out of the decalogue which has at all times and by all peoples been regarded as such. the church during several centuries enjoyed a monopoly of wisdom or learning as well as of opportunities for acquiring them. zealotry, bigotry, intolerance, fanaticism, were the natural products of such conditions. so were cruelty and disregard of human life. join the mind of a bigot to the body of one who knows not fear, and the result will be a loyola, or a st. louis of france, who held that the only argument a layman should engage in with a heretic should be a sword thrust through the body. if then heresy was a crime, punishable by a cruel death in all the capitals of europe, let us blame less the men who were trained and grew up with these notions, but rather more the church which preached them, whether catholic or protestant. only if one of these really were, as it still claims to be, _infallible_, then what has become of its infallibility? or if heresy be held still a crime then what shall we say of the church's ethics? if one were god-given the other is un-christ-like. but no free thinker can engage in theological polemics, or with jesuitical sophistries, without letting his reason excite his emotions; and when the emotions enter the door logic flies out of the window. let us say then that bruno was in some respects so far ahead of his day and generation that they understood him not. and yet he was a _torch bearer_, save at his own last funeral pyre, shedding forth a light which illumed the centuries to come, and helping to make the period of the italian renaissance one of the most important and glorious in the world's history. if better known and more widely studied, he would be by english and american students placed on that pinnacle which he deserves in the hall of fame. what shall be said of bruno as a philosopher? he, first of all men in the middle ages, taught that nature was lovable and worthy of study. loving her, trusting, confiding in her, he found himself at outs with all the mental processes of his fellow scholars. in this way the natural method was brought into direct opposition with the ponderously artificial and strained methods of his day. he held that our eyes were given us that we might open and look upward. "seeing, i do not pretend not to see, nor fear to profess it openly," he says. his philosophy was rather a product of intuition than of ratiocination, which became his real religion, for which catholicism was a cloak, because in those days one was compelled to wear a cloak or live but a short life, and that within prison walls. what the medieval church, catholic and even protestant, has to answer for, as to the suppression of truth and provocation of hypocrisy, is beyond the mensuration of man. for the argument from authority he had the greatest contempt, and herein he set the world of thinkers a valuable lesson. "to believe with the many because they were many, was the mark of a slave," (mcintyre). before bacon, before descrates, he saw the necessity of "first clearing the mind of all prejudice, all traditional beliefs that rest on authority." he thus begins one of his sonnets:-- "oh, holy assinity! oh, holy ignorance, holy folly and pious devotion; which alone makest souls so good that human wit and zeal can go no further," etc. by the independence of his mental processes he was thrown quite upon his own resources, and his nature, already dignified and reserved, was made more introspective and self-conscious. in this way he developed strains of vanity and egotism which led him at times to the bombastic self-laudation of a paracelsus. he had nothing but disgust for the common people and the sort of scholars (pedants) whom they admired. the vulgar mind was more influenced by sophisms, by appearance, by failure to distinguish between the shadow and the substance. take but two or three of bruno's conceptions:-- he perhaps first during the middle ages taught the transformation of lower into higher organisms, following the greeks who first enunciated the doctrine of evolution, which it remained for darwin and wallace to edit and illustrate as that law of the organic continuity of life, which we call _evolution_. he further wrote of the human hand as a factor in the evolution of the human race, in a way which should have commended him to the author of the bridgewater treatise. he wrote of the changes on the earth's surface brought about by natural processes, which have changed not only the external configuration of the same but the fate and destiny of nations; of the identity of matter throughout the universe; of the universal movement of matter. long before lessing he showed how myths may contain the germs of great truths, and should be regarded as indications thereof. in this way, he told us, the bible was to be regarded, holding its more or less historical statements to be quite subordinate to its moral teachings. when we realize how to such highly developed reasoning powers as bruno possessed, were added a phenomenal memory, a tremendous power of assimilation, a developed imagination, a poetic nature, the gift of easy and accurate speech and a temperament easily excited to fervor in attack or defense, we may the better appreciate his dominating greatness as well as his trifling weakness; the former being entirely to his own credit while the latter are ascribed largely to the faults of his time, and the fact that he was really living far ahead of his day and generation. he was not only the forerunner of modern science, he was the prototype of the modern biblical critic, foreshadowing the modern higher criticism, albeit in veiled terms, and as a matter of esoteric teaching; because the biblical critic of those days was burned at the stake, while to-day he is barely ostracized by the shallow and narrow minded, with whom he has at best nothing mentally in common. so much have four centuries of labor and vicarious suffering accomplished for the emancipation of the human mind. bruno _had_ a creed, but it was too simple for his times. he rejected certain orthodox dogmas, (e. g. the trinity, the immaculate conception) which commend themselves still less to the emancipated and cultivated minds of to-day. he absolutely rejected authority, which was a step toward reason comparable to the freeing of the slaves or serfs. he evolved a theory of evolution from _a priori_ concepts, which it remained for darwin to complete and demonstrate. he believed in the natural history of religions. his motives were of the loftiest, though his methods were not always those of to-day. he believed that the essence of truth inhered in those differences which kept men apart, and still sever them. he believed the _law of love_ and that it sprang from god, which is the father of all, that it was in harmony with nature, and that by love we may be transformed into something of his likeness. as bruno himself says:--"this is the religion, above controversy or dispute, which i observe from the belief of my own mind, and from the custom of my fatherland and my race." (mcintyre, p. ). and yet this sublime man was burned as a heretic! let us stop when we hereafter pass through the campo dei fiori, as i have done many a time, and take off our hats to the memory of this great man, who, while small in some human traits, yet was the greatest thinker in italy during the sixteenth century, whose memory may help us to forget some of the hypocrisies and cant so generally prevalent during the age which and among the men who condemned him. let us also thank god that there is no tribunal of the inquisition to-day, to pass misguided judgment upon us for having gone further than bruno ever dreamed, though along the same lines, and to condemn us therefore to the flames. this paper has already been prolonged, perhaps tiresomely, nevertheless i cannot refrain from quoting a few paragraphs from that most versatile student of this period, symonds, whose estimate of bruno is as follows:--(renaissance in italy; catholic reaction, ii chap. ix). "bruno appears before us as the man who most vitally and comprehensively grasped the leading tendencies of his age in their intellectual essence. he left behind him the mediaeval conception of an extra-mundane god, creating a finite world, of which this globe is the center, and the principal episode in the history of which is the series of events from the fall, through the incarnation and crucifixion, to the last judgment. he substituted the conception of an ever-living, ever-acting, ever-self-effectuating god, immanent in an infinite universe, to the contemplation of whose attributes the mind of man ascends by the study of nature and interrogation of his conscience. "bolder even than copernicus, and nearer in his intuition to the truth, he denied that the universe had "flaming walls" or any walls at all. that "immaginata circonferenza," "quella margine immaginata del cielo," on which antique science and christian theology alike reposed, was the object of his ceaseless satire, his oft-repeated polemic. what, then, rendered bruno the precursor of modern thought in its various manifestations, was that he grasped the fundamental truth upon which modern science rests, and foresaw the conclusions which must be drawn from it. he speculated boldly, incoherently, vehemently; but he speculated with a clear conception of the universe, as we still apprehend it. through the course of three centuries we have been engaged in verifying the guesses, deepening, broadening and solidifying the hypotheses, which bruno's extension of the copernican theory, and his application of it to pure thought suggested to his penetrating and audacious intellect." bruno was convinced that religion in its higher essence would not sufferer from the new philosophy. larger horizons extended before the human intellect. the soul expanded in more exhilarating regions than the old theologies had offered. "lift up thy light on us and on thine own, o soul whose spirit on earth was as a rod to scourge off priests, a sword to pierce their god, a staff for man's free thought to walk alone, a lamp to lead him far from shrine and throne on ways untrodden where his fathers trod ere earth's heart withered at a high priest's nod, and all men's mouths that made not prayer made moan. from bonds and torments, and the ravening flame, surely thy spirit of sense rose up to greet lucretius, where such only spirits meet, and walk with him apart till shelley came to make the heaven of heavens more heavenly sweet, and mix with yours a third incorporate name." viii student life in the middle ages[ ] [ ] an address given before the chas. k. mills society of students of the university of pennsylvania, february , . [reprinted from the _univ. of penna. medical bulletin_, march, .] i assume that every university student of today realizes that his possibilities and his opportunities are better in every way than were those enjoyed by students of bygone times. i take it, also, that you would not be averse to listening to an account of the habits, the surroundings, the privileges, and the disadvantages which surrounded students at a time when universities were young and when customs in general, as well as manners, were very different from those of to-day. with all this in view, i shall ask your attention to a brief account of student life in the middle ages, with especial reference to that of the medical student. measured by its results, the most priceless legacy of mediæval times to mankind was the university system, which began in crude form and with an almost mythical origin, but which gradually took form and shape in consequence of many external forces. it represented an effort to "realize in concrete form an ideal of life in one of its aspects." such ideals "pass into great historic forces by embodying themselves in institutions," as witness, for instance, the case of the church of rome. the use of words in our language has undergone many curious perversions. take our word "bombast," for instance. originally it was a name applied to the cotton plant. then it was applied to any padding for garments which was made of cotton. later it was used as describing literary padding, as it were, as when one filled out an empty speech with unnecessary and long words, and, at last, it came to have the meaning which we now give it. so with the word "university." "universitas" in the original latin meant simply a collection, a plurality, or an aggregation. it was almost synonymous with "collegium." by the beginning of the thirteenth century it was applied to corporations of masters or students and to other associated bodies, and implied an association of individuals, not a place of meeting, nor even a collection of schools. if we were to be literal and consistent in our use of terms, for the place where such collections of men exercise scholastic functions the term should be "_studium generale_," meaning thereby a place, not where all things are studied, but where students come together from all directions. very few of the mediæval studia possessed all the faculties of a modern university. even paris, in its palmiest days, had no faculty of law. the name _universitas_ implies a general invitation to students from all over the world to seek there a place for higher education from numerous masters or teachers. the three great _studia_ of the thirteenth century were paris, transcendent in theology and the arts; bologna, where legal lore prevailed; and salernum, where existed the greatest medical school of the world's history. in spite of the fact that these, like all the other _studia_ of the middle ages, were under the influence of the church, from them sprang most of the inspiration that constituted the mainspring of mediæval intellectual activity, although how baneful such influence could be may be illustrated by the spanish--that is, the ultra-catholic university of salamanca, where not until one hundred years ago were they allowed to teach the copernican system of astronomy. under the conditions existing during the middle ages, with relatively few institutions of advanced learning, and in the presence of that spirit which led men to travel long distances, and very widely out of the provinces, to the cities of the great scholia, or, as we call them now, universities, the most imperative common want was that of a common language; and so it happened that not only were the lectures all given in latin, but that it was very commonly used for conversational purposes, and appears to have been almost a necessity of university life. early in the history of the university of paris a statute made the ability of the petitioner to state his case before the rector in latin a test of his bona-fide studentship. this may perhaps, in some measure account for the barbarity of mediæval latin. still, as the listener said about wagner's music, "it may not have been as bad as it sounded," since the period of greatest ignorance of construction and rhetoric had passed away before the university era began. john stuart mill even praised the schoolmen of the middle ages for their inventive capacity in the matter of technical terms. the latin language, which was originally stiff and poor in vocabulary, became, in its employment by these mediæval thinkers, much more flexible and expressive. it was the ciceronian pedantry of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which killed off latin as a living language. felicity in latin counted, then as now, as a mark of scholarship, and six hundred years ago a schoolmaster could come up to the university and, after performing some exercises and passing such an examination as the doctors of music do to-day, could write one hundred verses in latin in praise of the university, and take his degree. the boys who went to the universities learned their latin at inferior grammar schools, often in university towns. these schools were mainly connected with cathedrals or churches, although, in the later middle ages, even the smallest towns had schools where a boy might learn to read and write at least the rudiments of ecclesiastical latin. in those days not only were the clergy latin scholars, but the bailiff of every manor kept his accounts in latin, and a tutor even formed part of the establishment of a great noble or prelate who had either a family or pages in his care. in those good old days boys were accustomed to seek the university at the ages of thirteen to fifteen. a paris statute required them to be at least fourteen, and naturally many were older. many of these students were beneficed, and boys were canons or even rectors of parish churches. in this capacity they obtained leave of absence to study in the universities, and so it was quite common at one time for rectors and ecclesiastics of all ages to appear in the rôle of university students. at the close of the fourteenth century, in the university of prague, in the law school alone there appeared on the list of students one bishop, one abbot, nine archdeacons, canons, rectors, and still other minor ecclesiastics. at one time in the university of bologna, in the registry of german corps, more than half the students were church dignitaries. sad to relate, many of these clerical students were among the most disorderly and troublesome of the academic population, the statutes vainly prescribing that they should sit "as quiet as girls;" while, as rashdall says, "even spiritual thunders had at times to be invoked to prevent them from shouting, playing, and interrupting." considering the youthfulness of what we may call the freshmen, as many of them went up to the universities at the early age already mentioned, it is not strange that we hear of "fetchers" or "carriers" or "bryngers," who were detailed to escort them home; but we must remember that the roads were dangerous in those days, and that protection of some kind was necessary even for men. proclamations against bearing arms usually made exceptions in favor of students travelling to or from the university. students, many of them, lived in halls, or, as we would say now, dormitories, and one of them assumed the rôle of principal, or was delegated to exercise certain authority. quite often this was the man who made himself responsible for the rent, whose authority came only from the voluntary consent of his fellow-students, or who was elected by them. when it came to the matter of discipline, the good old-fashioned birchen rod was not an unknown factor in university government. there seems to have been always a certain relationship between classic studies and corporal punishment. in mediæval university records allusions to this relationship began about the fifteenth century. in paris, about this time, when there were so many disgraceful factional fights, the rectors and proctors had occasionally to go to the colleges and halls and personally superintend the chastisement of the young rioters. we find also in the history of the university of louvain that flogging was at one time ordered by the faculty of arts for homicide or other grave outrages. it is worth while to recall for a moment how grave offences were dealt with in those days. at the university of ingolstadt one student killed another in a drunken quarrel, and was punished by the university by the confiscation of his scholastic effects and garments, but he was not even expelled. at prague a certain master of arts assisted in cutting the throat of a friar bishop, and was actually expelled for the deed. in those days drunkenness was rarely treated as a university offence. the penalties which were inflicted for the gravest outrages and immoralities were for the greater part puerile in the extreme. in most serious cases excommunication or imprisonment were the penalties, while lesser offences were punished by postponement of degree, expulsion from the college, temporary banishment from a university town, or by fines. in leipzig, in , the fine of ten new groschen was provided for the offense of lifting a stone or missile with a view of throwing it at a master, but not actually throwing it; whereas the act of throwing and missing increased the penalty to eight florins, while successful marksmanship was still more expensive. later statutes made distinction between hitting without wounding and wounding without mutilation, expulsion being the penalty for actual mutilation. with the beginning of the sixteenth century the practice of flogging the very poorest students appears to have been introduced. during these middle ages they had a peculiar fashion of expiating even grave offences. for example, at the sorbonne, if a fellow should assault or cruelly beat a servant he was fined a measure of good wine--not for the benefit of the servant, but for all the culprit's fellow-students. those were the days, too, when trifling lapses incurred each its own penalty. a doctor of divinity was fined a quart of wine for picking a pear off a tree in the college garden or forgetting to shut the chapel door. clerks were fined for being very drunk and committing insolences when in that condition. the head cook was fined for not putting salt in the soup. most of these fines being in the shape of liquors or wines, i imagine that the practice was more general because the penalty was shared in by all who were near. with lapse of time the statutes of the german universities gradually grew stricter until they became very minute and restrictive in the matter of unacademical pleasures. a visit to the tavern, or even to the kitchen of the college or hall, became a university offence. there were statutes against swearing, against games of chance, walking abroad without a companion, being out after eight in the winter or nine in the summer, making odious comparisons of country to country, etc. this was particularly true of the english universities, where a definite penalty was imposed for every offence, ranging from a quarter of a penny for not speaking latin to six shillings eight pence for assault with effusion of blood. the matter of constantly speaking latin led to a system of espionage, by which a secret system of spies, called "_lupi_" or wolves, was arranged; these were to inform against the "_vulgarisantes_," or those offenders who persisted in speaking in their mother tongue. it was the students of those days who set the example and the fashion of initiating, or, as we would say now, of hazing the newcomers. this custom of initiation, in one form or another, seems to have an almost hoary antiquity. as rashdall puts it, three deeply rooted instincts of human nature combine to put the custom almost beyond suppression. it satisfies alike the bullying instinct, the social instinct, and the desire to find at once the excuse and the means for a carouse. in the days of which we are speaking the _bejaunus_, which is a corruption of the old french _bec-jaune_ (or yellow bill), as the academic fledgling was called, had to be bullied and coaxed and teased in order to be welcomed as a comrade, and finally his "jocund advent" had to be celebrated by a feast furnished at his own expense. a history of the process of initiating would furnish one of the most singular chapters in university records. at first there were several prohibitions against all _bejaunia_, for the unfortunate youth's limited purse ill afforded even the first year's expenses. as the years went by certain restrictions were imposed, and by the sixteenth century the _depositio cornuum_ had become in the german universities a ceremony almost equal in importance to matriculation. the callow country youth was supposed to be a wild beast who must be deprived of his horns before he could be received into refined society in his new home. this constituted the _depositio_ for which he was supposed to arrange with his new masters, at the same time begging them to keep expenses as low as possible. soon after he matriculated he was visited in his room by two of the students, who would pretend to be investigating the source of an abominable odor. this would be subsequently discovered to be due to the newcomer himself, whom they would take at first to be a wild boar, but later discovery to be that rare creature known as a _bejaunus_, a creature of whom they had heard, but which they had never seen. after chaffing comments about his general ferocious aspect it would be suggested, with marked sympathy, that his horns might be removed by operation, the so-called _depositio_. the victim's face would then be smeared with some preparation, and certain formalities would be gone through with--clipping his ears, removal of his tusks, etc. finally, in fear lest the mock operation should be fatal, the patient would be shriven; one of the students, feigning himself a priest, would put his ear to the dying man's mouth and then repeat his confession. the boy was made to accuse himself of all sorts of enormities, and finally it was exacted as penance that he should provide a sumptuous banquet for his new masters and comrades. this latter ceremony consisted of a procession headed by a master in academic dress, followed by students in masquerading costume. certain further operative procedures were then gone through with, the beast was finally dehorned and his nose held to the grindstone, while a little later his chin was adorned with a beard made of burnt cork, and his wounded sensibilities assuaged by a dose of salt and wine. all this constituted a peculiar german custom, although some means of extorting money or bothering those who were initiated was practically universal. in germany this ceremony of _depositio_ seems to have led later to the bullying and fagging of juniors by seniors, that gave rise to indignities while at the same time it more than exceeded in brutality anything of which we have read in the english grammar schools. these excesses reached their highest in the seventeenth century, and for a long time defied all efforts of both government and university authorities to suppress them. in southern france this initiation assumed somewhat different form. here the freshman was treated as a criminal, and had to be tried for and released by purgation from the consequences of his original sin. at avignon this purgation of freshmen was made the primary purpose of a religious fraternity formed under ecclesiastical sanction, and with a chapel in the dominican church. (rashdall). the preamble of its constitution piously boasted that its object was to put a stop to enormities, drunkenness and immorality, but its practices were at extreme variance with its avowed purposes. the matter of academical dress may interest for a moment. during the middle ages there was for the undergraduate nothing which could be properly called academic dress. in the italian universities the students wore a long black garment known as a "cappa." in the parisian universities every student was required by custom or statute to wear a tonsure and a clerical habit, such "indecent, dissolute, or secular" apparel as puffed sleeves, pointed shoes, colored boots, etc., being positively forbidden; and so the clothes of uniform color and material, like those worn in some of the english charitable schools, have been the result of the uniform dress of a particular color which mediæval students were supposed to wear, and which indicated that at the time they were supposed to be clerks. at one time the so-called queen's men in oxford university were required to wear bright red garments, and differences of color and ornament still survive in the undergraduate gowns of cambridge. while the students usually wore dark-hued material, the higher officials of the universities wore more and more elaborate garments, until the rector appeared in violet or purple, perhaps with fur trimmings. the hoods, which are still worn to-day, were at one time made of lamb's wool or rabbit's fur, silk, such as those which we wear, coming in as a summer alternative at the end of the fourteenth century. the birretta, or square cap, with a tuft on the top, in lieu of the modern tassel on top of the square cap, was a distinctive badge of membership, while doctors and superior officers were distinguished by the red or violet color of their birrettas. this so-called "philosophy of clothes" throws much light upon the relation of the church to the universities, as well as on the use and misuse of the term "clericus." that a man was a _clericus_ in the middle ages did not necessarily imply that he had taken even the lowest grade of clerical orders. it simply implied that he was a clerk, i. e., a student. even the wearing of a so-called clerical dress was rather in order that the wearer might enjoy exemption from secular courts and the privileges of the clerical order. the lowest of the people even took the clerical tonsure simply in order to get the benefit of clergy; and to become a clerk was at one time almost equivalent to taking out a license for the commission of murder or outrage with comparative immunity. nevertheless, the relation between clerkship and minor orders is still quite obscure. it is quite evident that students of those days were not worked as hard as those of the present day. three lectures a day constituted a maximum of work of this kind, beside which there were disputations and "resumpciones," which seem to have corresponded very much to the quizzes of to-day, scholars being examined or catechised, sometimes even by the lecturer himself. gradually supplementary lectures were introduced, but there was a period during which the university seemed to decline and decay rather than the reverse, when intellectual life was not nearly as active and studies not nearly as closely pursued. in the days of thomas aquinas intellectual vigor was at its highest, but in the fifteenth century there was a distinct falling off. during these centuries, too, it was not unusual that students attended mass or religious services before going to lectures. this practice grew during the latter portion of the middle ages. attendance was not, however, compulsory. even at oxford the statutes of the new college were the first which required daily attendance at mass. in those days lectures began at six in the morning in summer, and sometimes as late as seven in the winter mornings. there is every reason to think that often lectures were given in the darkness preceding dawn, and even without artificial light. it should be said that these lectures were sometimes three hours in duration, and hence it might appear that three such lectures a day were about all that could be expected of a student. the standard of living for the mediæval student was not always so bad as has been sometimes represented. university students then, as now, were recruited from the highest as well as the poorest social classes, and the young sons of princely families often had about them quite an establishment. at the lower end of the university social ladder was the poor scholar who was reduced to begging for his living or becoming a servant in one of the colleges. in vienna and elsewhere there were halls whose inmates were regularly sent out to beg, the proceeds of their mendicancy being placed in a common chest. very poor scholars were often granted licenses to beg by the chancellor. this was not regarded as a particular degradation, however, because the example of the friars had made begging comparatively respectable. those who would have been ashamed to work hard were not ashamed to beg. this custom, for that matter, is by no means yet abandoned. when i was first studying in vienna, in , i remember a young german nobleman who was reduced to such an extent that he lived absolutely on the charity of others. he kept a little book in which he had it set down that on such a day such a person had promised to give him so much toward his support, and he called regularly on his list of supporters, and almost daily, in order that the gulden which they had promised him might be forthcoming. there is the good old story you know, also, of the three students who were so poor that they had but one cappa or gown between them, in which they took turns to go to lectures. in the small university towns, where thousands of students gathered together during a part of the year--where means of carrying food were scanty, and food itself not abundant--it is not strange that student fare was often of the most meagre sort. the matter of food was not the only hardship of student life in those days about which we are talking. at that time such a thing as a fire in a lecture-room was unknown, there being no source of warmth or comfort, save, perhaps, straw or rushes upon the floor. the winter in the northern university towns must have been severe, but it is not likely that either in the lecture-room or in his own apartments did the student have any comfort from heat. this was true to such an extent that they often sought the kitchens for comfort. in germany it was even one of the duties of the head of the college to inspect the college-rooms lest the occupants should have supplied themselves with some source of heat. in some places, however, there was a common hall or combination room in which a fire was built in cold weather. you must remember, also, that glass windows were an exceptional luxury until toward the close of the period under discussion. in padua the windows of the schools were made of linen. in a glass window was for the first time introduced into the theological school at prague. in the rooms inhabited by some of the junior fellows at cambridge were still unprovided with glass windows. add to these hardships the relative expense of lights, when the average price of candles was nearly two pence per pound, and you will see that the poorest student could not afford to study by artificial light. some of the senior students may have had bedsteads, but the younger students slept mostly upon the floor. in some places there were cisterns or troughs of lead, or occasionally pitchers and bowls were provided, but usually the student had to resort to the public lavatory in the hall. along with these hardships consider the amusements of this period, which were for the greater part conspicuous by their absence. statutes concerning amusements were often more stringent than those concerning crime or vice. these were essentially military times, and tournaments, hunting, and hawking, which were enjoyed by the upper social classes, were considered too expensive and distracting for university students, and were consequently forbidden. "mortification of the flesh" was the cry of those days, as even now among some religious fanatics. even playing with a ball or bat was at times forbidden, along with other "insolent games." a statute of the sixteenth century speaks of tennis and fives as among "indecent games" whose introduction would create scandal in and against the college. games of chance and playing for money were also forbidden; nevertheless, they were more or less practised. even chess enjoyed a bad reputation among the mediæval moralists, and was characterized by a certain bishop of winchester as a "noxious, inordinate, and unhonest game." dancing was rather a favorite amusement, but was repressed as far as possible, since the celebrated william of wykeham found it necessary to prohibit dancing and jumping in the chapel. apparently, then, in those days a good student amused himself little, if at all, and had to find his relaxation in the frequent interruptions caused by church holidays. at st. andrew's, in scotland, however, two days' holiday was allowed at carnival time expressly for cock-fighting. on the evenings of festival days entertainments were occasionally provided by strolling players, jesters, or mountebanks, who were largely patronized by students. altogether, it is not strange that students in those days fell into dissolute habits, many having to be expelled or punished. we can even understand how some of them actually turned highwaymen and waylaid their more peaceful brothers as they approached the universities with money for the ensuing season. in the archives of the university of leipzig there are standard forms of proclamation against even such boyish follies as pea-shooting, destruction of trees and crops, throwing water out of the window upon passers-by, shouting at night, wearing of disguises, interfering with a hangman in the execution of his duty, or attending exhibitions of wrestling, boxing, and the like. evidently, then, university life had its exceedingly wild side. one needs only to recall the history of the famous latin quarter in paris to be convinced of this. this was the students' quarter in the old city of paris as extended by philip augustus across the river. paris then was surrounded by a cordon of monasteries, whose abbots exercised jurisdiction over their surrounding districts. just to the west of the student quarter stood the great abbey of st. germain. between the monks of this monastery and the students there were frequent conflicts, and it is recorded that in , for instance, a pitched battle occurred between the monks, under their provost, on one side, and the unarmed and defenceless boys and masters, on the other, during which many were badly wounded, and some mortally. the matter was finally carried to court, and the monks were required to perform certain penances and to pay certain fines. their brutality, however, was not effectually suppressed. in the provost of paris hanged and gibbetted a student, and was punished therefor by the king; while the subsequent history of paris is one of constant conflict between students and the clerical orders. on the other hand, the clerical tonsure in which the parisian scholar clothed himself enabled him to indulge in all kinds of crime, without fear of that summary execution which would have been his fate had he been merely an ordinary beggar. bibulousness was another striking characteristic of mediæval university life. in those days they knew not tea nor coffee nor tobacco, but spirituous liquors in some form were far from unknown to them. no important event of life could be transacted without its drinking accompaniment. at all exercises, public or private, wine was freely provided, and many of the feasts and festivals which began with mass were concluded with a drunken orgie. you have observed that so far i have made frequent mention of clerical matters. in truth, in northern europe the church included practically all the learned professions, including the civil servants of the government, the physicians, architects, secular lawyers, diplomatists, and secretaries, who were all ecclesiastics. it is true that in order to be a "clerk" it was not really necessary to take even minor orders, but it was so easy for a king or bishop to reward his physician, his lawyer, or his secretary by a monastic office rather than by a large salary, that the average student, at least in the larger places, looked to holy orders as his eventual destination. how much of insincerity and hypocrisy there were among those reverend gentlemen thus constituted you may imagine better than i can picture. the reformation, as well as the increasing corruption of the monastic orders, brought about changes which were not rapid, but which became almost complete, and led finally to the partial restoration of the ancient dignity of the early church. without pursuing this part of the subject further, it may be imagined what a general alteration and reformation in all branches of study, as well as in the general intellectual life of the people, the founding of the universities accomplished. for the greater part designed for the confirmation of the faith, they often brought about a reaction against it. like the other integral portions of the university, the medical departments of nearly all the mediæval institutions came into existence through voluntary associations of physicians and would-be teachers. for a long time medicine was included under the general head of philosophy, whose standard-bearers were aristotle and the arabians. at tübingen, in , the medical student's days were divided about as follows: in the morning he studied galen's _ars medici_, and in the afternoon avicenna on _fever_. during the second year, in the forenoon he studied avicenna's _anatomy and physiology_, and in the afternoon the ninth book of rhazes on _local pathology_. the forenoons of his third year were spent with the _aphorisms_ of hippocrates, and in the afternoon he studied galen. if any text-book on surgery at all were used it was usually that of avicenna. some time was also given to the writings of some of the other arabian physicians. at that time any man who had studied medicine for three years and attained the age of twenty-one might assume the rôle of teacher if he saw fit, being compelled only, at first, to lecture upon the preparatory branches. he was at that time called a _baccalaureus_. after three years' further study he became a _magister_ or _doctor_, although for the latter title a still further course of study was usually prescribed. the courses of medical instruction were quite stereotyped in form, and were carefully watched over by the church. nevertheless, it came about that the study of medicine once more was taken up by thinkers, although, unfortunately, not logical thinkers, whereas previously it had been almost entirely confined within the ranks of the clerics or clergy. the most celebrated of all these mediæval philosophers in science and medicine was albert von bollstaedt, usually known as albertus magnus, who died in . his works which remain to us fill twenty-one quarto volumes, in which he discussed both anatomical and physiological questions. it is exceedingly illustrative of the foolishly speculative vein in which many of these discussions were carried on, that they seriously discussed such questions as whether the removal of the rib from adam's side, out of which eve was formed, really caused adam severe pain, and whether at the judgment day that loss of rib would be compensated by the insertion of another. those were the days, also, when it was seriously discussed whether adam or eve ever had a navel. in spite of such follies, however, albertus magnus left an impression upon scholarship in science, in a general way, which long outlasted him. these were the days when the students organized themselves into so-called "nations," whence arose that conspicuous features of german university life of today of so-called students' corps. these nations--each composed, for the main part, of men of one nationality--had their own meeting-places, their own property, etc. one of the principal means of instruction in those days was disputations, or, as we would say, debates, held between students, often of different nations, in which they were expected to prove their knowledge and mental alertness. when it is recalled that universities were larger--i. e., better attended--in those days than now, it will be seen to what an extent these nations were developed. oxford, in , is said to have had no less than , students; paris about the same time had , ; and bologna had some , students, the majority of whom were studying law. the title of doctor came into vogue about the twelfth century. at first it was confined to teachers proper, and was bestowed upon the learned--i. e., those who had almost solely studied internal medicine, and who were required to take an oath to maintain the methods which had been taught them. for the title of doctor certain fees were paid, partly in money and partly in merchandise. the so-called presents consisted of gloves, clothes, hats, caps, etc. at salernum it cost about $ to graduate in this way, while at paris the cost was sometimes as high as $ , , and this at a time when money had much more purchasing value than it has to-day. it was then, as now, a peculiar feature of the english universities that but little systematic instruction in medical science was given. just as the majority of english students at present study in london rather than at one of the great universities, so in those days did they go to paris or montpellier. this will be perhaps as good a place as any to emphasize the fact that the clergy, having so long monopolized all learning and teaching, and having, at the same time, an abhorrence for the shedding of blood, which indeed had been prohibited by many papal bulls and royal edicts, permitted the practice of the operative part of medicine--i. e., surgery--to fall into the hands of the most illiterate and incompetent men. inasmuch as the church prohibited the wearing of beards, and as many of the religious orders also shaved their heads, there were attached to every monastery and to every religious order a number of barbers, whose duty was to take care of the clergy in these respects. thus into their hands was gradually committed the performance of any minor operation which involved the letting of blood, and from this, as a beginning, it came about that no really educated man concerned himself with the operations of surgery, but left them entirely to the illiterate servants of the church. this is really the reason that the barbers for many centuries did nearly all the surgery, and why, at the same time, surgery fell into such general and wide-spread disrepute. from this it was only revived about one hundred years ago. did time permit, this would be a most appropriate place to digress from the subject of this paper and rehearse to you the various stages in the evolution of the surgeon from the barber; but time does not permit it, and it constitutes a chapter in history by itself, which must be relegated to some other occasion. (see p. ). it was about the beginning of the fifteenth century that the better class of physicians began to belong to the laity, and were called "physici" in contrast to the "clerici." later they were known as "doctores." until the fourteenth century most of them studied in italian or french universities, the germans even being compelled to go to these foreign institutions. in paris they were required to take an oath that they would not join the surgeons. this regulation was founded as much upon spite and envy as upon any other motive. many of the clerical physicians belonged to the lower class, and were so ignorant that even the church itself was forced to declare many of their successes miracles. although monks and the clergy in general had been frequently forbidden to practice medicine, the decrees to this effect were quite generally disregarded, except in the matter of surgical operations. in the ranks of the higher clergy it must be said that well-educated physicians were occasionally found. there is, for instance, the record of a certain bishop of basel, who was deputed to seek from pope clement v. an archbishopric for another person, but finding the pope seriously ill, cured him, and received for himself in return the electorate of mayence, which was perhaps one of the largest honorariums ever given to a physician. these were the days when magic, mingled with mystery, played no small rôle in the practice of medicine, and when disgusting and curious remedies were quite in vogue. superstition and ignorance everywhere played a most prominent part. for instance, it was, in those days, an excellent remedy to creep under the coffin of a saint. when a person was poisoned it was considered wise to hang him up by the feet and perhaps to gouge out one of his eyes, in order that the poison might run out. it should be noted that putting out the eyes was frightfully common in the middle ages, mainly as a matter of punishment. it is said, for instance, that the emperor basil ii. on one occasion put out the eyes of , bulgarians, leaving one eye to one of every thousand, in order that he might lead his more unfortunate fellow-sufferers back to their ruler, who, it is said, at the sight of this outrage swooned and died in two days. it is said, too, that this is the reason why the emperor albrecht was one-eyed. what the revival of learning could thus and did accomplish under these conditions as above portrayed may be readily appreciated. the restoration of greek literature, the revival of anatomy, the habit of independent observation--all told materially in this renaissance of medicine. the italian universities became the objective point of all who desired a thorough medical education. the students chose the lecturers and officers of the university and had a large voice in the construction of the curriculum. the officers of their selection negotiated with those of the state, at least until the close of the sixteenth century. in spite of this general renaissance of medical learning and the impetus felt by the inspired few during the sixteenth century, it must be said that the general condition of medical science and of those who practised it was not greatly improved. the superstition of the common people and the timidity and indolence of all concerned were about as marked as they have ever been in the history of human error, and the practice of medicine was at least a century behind the applied knowledge of the other arts and sciences. at that time the best physicians and doctors were to be found in the italian universities, the french coming next, and, last of all, the german. the italian universities were the mecca sought by those who desired the best education of the day, and of all the italian medical faculties those of bologna, pisa, and padua ranked highest. those were the days, also, of the travelling scholars--a very marked feature of mediæval life. they migrated from one of the latin schools to another, and from one famous teacher to another, sometimes travelling alone, at other times in groups or bands, and practising often the worst barbarities while _en route_, supporting themselves by begging and stealing. on their marches they stole almost everything which was not tightly fastened down, and prepared their food even in the open fields. the result was that most of them fell into dissolute habits of life. a somewhat better class of vagrant students sang hymns before doors and received food as pay. some earned money singing in the churches. they apparently both drank more beer and at less cost than at present. at that time the cost of beer was about one cent for a large glass. the younger students were called "schutzen," and, like apprentices in trades, were obliged to perform the most menial duties. the older students were known as the "bacchanten," and each bacchant was honored in proportion to the number of "schutzen" who waited upon him. when, however, this bacchant himself reached the university he was compelled to lay aside his rough clothing and rude manners and take an oath to behave himself. not only the students, however, wandered from place to place, but even the professors of the sixteenth century were nomadic, wandering from one university to another; for example, vesalius, the great teacher of anatomy, taught in padua, in pisa, in louvain, in basel, in augsburg, and in spain. these habits may be partly accounted for by the fact that the students elected at least some of their teachers, and the professors who failed of re-election certainly may be considered to have had a motive for moving on. salaries were certainly not large in those days. melanchthon, the great theologian, received during his first eight years a salary of $ per annum, and by strict economy was able during this period to buy his wife a new dress. during his later years his salary attained the sum of $ , which would be equivalent to $ to-day. when vesalius died his salary was $ , per annum, to which certain fees were added. it is not strange, therefore, that many of the professors pursued reputable occupations during their odd hours or that they took students to board. we hear to-day of frequent illustrations of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulty, but certainly during the ages to which i have referred the ardent student, were he undergraduate or professor, put up with an amount of hardship, meagre fare, and trouble of all kinds which would stagger most of the young men of to-day. men were human then as now, and the universities were not above disputes and quarrels, which sometimes became very bitter and dishonorable, but were the indirect instrument of good, since they led in not a few instances to the founding of other universities. thus, about the beginning of the sixteenth century, pistorius and pollich were both teachers in leipzig, but holding antagonistic views regarding the nature of syphilis, became so embittered that they could not bear each other's presence, and each resolved to seek another home. the former influenced the elector to select frankfort-on-the-oder as the site of a new university, while the latter was the means of founding another at wittenberg. it is pretty hard to keep away from the relation of the barber to the anatomist and surgeon when discussing this subject. in another place i have dealt with the evolution of the surgeon from the barber, (see page ) and have endeavored to show that the principal factor which operated to keep back the progress of surgery during the eighteen centuries previous to the last was the influence of the church, which opposed the study of anatomy and degraded the practice of surgery. in the times to which i am referring now, an operation which caused the shedding of blood was considered beneath the dignity of an educated physician, and, in some circles, was regarded even as disreputable. it was, therefore, left to the only class of men who were supposed to know how to handle a knife or sharp instrument, i. e., the barbers. when operations were done in universities papal indulgences were often required, and these cost money, since in those days the pope gave nothing for nothing. public dissection required also papal indulgences, although in strasburg, in , permission to dissect the body of an executed criminal was granted by the magistrates in spite of papal prohibition. the ceremonies attending demonstrations of this kind were both fantastic and amusing. a corpse was ordinarily regarded as disreputable, and had first to be made reputable by reading a decree to that effect from the chief magistrate or lord of the land, and then, by order of the university, stamping the body with the seal of the corporation. it was carried upon the cover of the box in which it had been transported into the anatomical hall, which cover, upon which it rested through the ceremonies, was taken back afterward to the executioner, who remained at some distance with his vehicle. if the corpse was that of one who had been beheaded, the head during the performance of these solemn ceremonies lay between its legs. after the completion of the ceremonies the occasion was graced with music by the city fifers, trumpeters, etc., or an entertainment was given by itinerant actors (baas). in time, however, this folly was given up, and by the latter half of the sixteenth century public anatomical theatres were established. the most celebrated was built by fabricus ab aquapendente, in padua. it was so high, however, and so dark that dissections even in broad daylight could only be made visible by torchlight. the zeal with which gradually the better class of physicians pursued their scientific studies became more and more conspicuous, evidenced in many ways by the hardships with which some of them had to deal, as witness the struggles of many of the great anatomists of those days. and so in time the clergy disappeared almost entirely from the ranks of public physicians, and after the thirty years' war completely lost their supremacy even in literary matters, this being gradually usurped by the nobility and the more educated laymen; but even then knowledge was pursued under difficulties, especially the study of anatomy. it was not until that a mounted skeleton could be found in vienna. strasburg obtained one in . the handling of the dead body, which we regard as so necessary, was in those days avoided as much as possible. the professor of anatomy rarely, if ever, touched it himself, but he lectured or read a lecture while the actual dissection was done with a razor by a barber, under his supervision. practical instruction in obstetrics, which would seem almost as important as that in anatomy, was not given in those days; male students only studied it theoretically. in the hôtel dieu, in paris, that part which was devoted to instruction in midwifery was closed against men. it was the midwives in those days who enjoyed the monopoly of this teaching, and upon whom the greatest dependence for obstetrical ability was placed. the physicians proper, or _medici puri_ of the seventeenth century, were individuals of greatest dignity and profoundest gravity, who wore fur-trimmed robes, perukes, and carried swords, who considered it beneath them to do anything more than write prescriptions in the old galenic fashion. some continuation of this is seen in the distinction made even to-day in england between the physicians who enjoy the title of doctor and the surgeons who affect to disdain it. these old physicians knowing nothing of surgery, nevertheless demanded to be always consulted in surgical cases, claiming that only by this course could things go right. still when elements of danger were introduced, as in treating the plague, they were glad enough to send the barber surgeons into the presence of the sick, whom they merely inspected through panes of glass. very entertaining pictures could be furnished you illustrating the habits of the physicians of two or three hundred years ago in dealing with these contagious cases. the masks and armor which they wore and the precautions which they took would seem to indicate protection rather against the weapons of mediæval warfare. at one time they were advised that if they must go into actual contact with these patients they should first repeat the twenty-second psalm. you may find in the old books, if you will hunt for them, curious pictures illustrating the precautions taken a few hundred years ago against the pestilence, of whose nature they knew nothing, and seeing them you may imagine the vague dread and even the abject fear which led the _physici puri_ or physicians to send the barbers in to minister to plague-stricken patients, while they contented themselves with ministering at long range to their needs. but gentlemen, i fear lest i weary you with a longer rehearsal of mediæval customs and student follies. while they have all passed away some of them have survived either in tradition or in modified form, as will surely have occurred to you while they were rehearsed. you will not fail to note the steady progress of an ethical evolution which has toned down the barbarities and the asperities of the past, and which has substituted a far more ennobling life-purpose and method of its accomplishment than seemed to actuate your predecessors of long ago. it is small wonder that the students of those days bore an ill-repute with their surrounding neighbors. you may see better now, perhaps, why the medical student even of to-day has to contend with a prejudice against both his calling and himself, a prejudice begotten of the many debaucheries and misdeeds of his predecessors, and, i am sorry to say, even certain excesses of to-day. i do not know how i may more fittingly terminate these remarks than by reminding you that the profession which you students hope to enter has suffered most seriously in time past from the character of the men who have entered it, and that even to-day certain of its members fail to have a proper regard for its dignity. it is axiomatic that those slights and indignities from which we often suffer, and the neglect and indifference of which we often complain, are in effect the result of our own shortcomings, and that we are ourselves largely to blame because of that which does not suit us. i beg you then to remember that even at the outset of student life there should be ever before you such an ideal of intellectual force and dignity, of power, of co-ordination of mind and body, as may keep you ever in the right way, so that when you at last attain your goal you may deserve that sort of benediction which i find in one of beaumont and fletcher's plays (_custom of the country_, v. iv.): "so may you ever be styled the 'hands of heaven,' nature's restorers; get wealth and honors, and, by your success in all your undertakings, propagate a great opinion in the world." ix a study of medical words, deeds and men[ ] [ ] address in medicine, delivered june , , at yale university commencement. [reprinted from the _yale medical journal_, july, .] _study nature for facts; study lives of great men for inspiration how to use them_ never have i more earnestly craved the gift of eloquence than on occasions like this, when young men are about to leave the halls in which and the men with whom they have grown into man's estate, in order to assume the solemn and weighty responsibilities not only of their own lives but those as well of others. the day upon which you are thus released from duties of one kind to assume those of another, welcome and joyous though it may be, should nevertheless be interspersed with some serious and earnest thoughts and resolutions. old yale sets now her stamp upon you. it will prove a passport to many homes, but must never be abused. it will entitle you to the society of the cultivated and to the respect of scholars everywhere. it will admit you to the ranks of the learned and cause you to be treated with respect and equality by some of the profoundest and most scholarly thinkers the world has even known. yale has now furnished you with that which her ripe experience has shown to be requisite for young men commencing professional careers. as contrasted with the total of human knowledge its aggregate is not large, but it has not for centuries been the custom for men to grow gray in studies before undertaking to practice medicine, and when your own qualifications are compared with those which we of the passing generation possessed at the corresponding period of our lives, the comparison will furnish at the same time the most startling illustration of the rapid advance of medicine in the past twenty-five years. yale has always been eminent for the versatility and originality of her teachers. her medical history has been so well told during the past year by one of her most honored sons, dr. welch, that it is not necessary nor wise to go now into such historical details. the trend of science to-day is along the lines of comparative investigation, and the bible is by no means the only literary collection which to-day is being subjected to the "higher criticism." the inspiration claimed for the contributors to that great ancient collection is denied to the writers of great modern works, where, nevertheless, fundamental truth is as requisite for the welfare of the body as in the other for that of the soul. only by painstaking research, laboriously repeated, do we clear the old paths of the rubbish of centuries or discover totally new ones. pathfinders of this description have always abounded in this great institution, drawn by common impulses or attracted by some centripetal force. and though it were perhaps invidious to mention names, i nevertheless must select two of yale's great teachers whose names are still green in the memory of all men, and ask you to note how the examples they have set and the work they have done may furnish the line of thought in which i wish you to follow me for a little while. the science of comparative philology would seem to be far removed from that of medicine. still, it is based upon an ultimate analysis of parts of speech, and men like professor whitney were, not only the comparative anatomists, but even the histologists--if i may use the phrase--of words. comparative philology then is to medical terminology what embryology and comparative anatomy are to a study of the structure of the human body. the philologist loves to dissect words and trace them back through rudimentary stages and roots to their earliest forms. he loves also to study the evolution of an idea as conveyed by a word, and trace atavism or reversion in human speech. again you have here at yale a wonderful collection of extinct animal remains restored with marvellous accuracy to semblance of their original form and appearance. the indefatigable industry and wonderful ability of professor marsh and his co-workers have enabled us to form ideographs of the living forms of earlier geologic ages upon this earth, which could not have been furnished had it not been for their remarkable knowledge of morphology and skill in synthesis. indeed, where have powers of analysis and synthesis been more brilliantly displayed than by these men. it used to be said of cuvier, the great french comparative anatomist, that if given a tooth from any beast, past or present, he could describe the animal and its habits as well as reconstruct his skeleton, so wonderfully are minute differences perpetuated, and so familiar was he with them. let us see, then, if it be possible to take some of our common medical words and by applying to them the methods of whitney and of marsh follow them back to their early forms and significances, and then construct from them ideographs of the customs, habits and superstitions of the men who used them. such a plan systematically carried out might furnish both a fitting and a novel introduction to the history of medicine. coleridge, you know, said we might often derive more useful knowledge from the history of a word than from the history of a campaign. take, for instance, our word _idiocy_. the greeks, especially the athenians, were a race of politicians. private citizens who cared little or naught for office were the _idiotai_, as distinguished from the public officials and office holders. it came about in time that men of such retiring habits and modest tastes were regarded as persons of degraded intellect and taste. and so the _iviwrai_ were considered of inferior intellectual capacity. in other words, the idiot of those days was the man content with private life. how different from the present day when conditions seem so nearly reversed. our kindred word _imbecile_ has also present reference to those of feeble, dwarfed or perverted intellect, and refers rather to mental than physical defects, though both must often be associated. but originally the lame and the deformed who were obliged to use artificial support, walked as it was said, _in bacillum_, upon a stick or crutch, and from this expression we derive our word imbecile. let us trace, for instance, again, the etymology of our word _palate_. the latin _palatum_ is the same as _balatum_, that is, the bleating part. the ancient shepherds of the region of the campagna watched the sheep as they went bleating (_balatans_) over those hills, one of which subsequently became the _palatine_. or take again our word _mania_. it is derived from _unv_ the moon, meaning the moon-sickness, and corresponds to lunacy from _luna_. you see the ancient superstition concerning the influence of the moon abides in the name. this brings up again the old ideas concerning the metal silver which was sacred alike to diana and the moon, and consequently feminine in sex and attributes. hence comes the mediæval alchemistic term _lunar caustic_, and hence, too, comes its use in the treatment of epilepsy for which it was formerly much in use, since epilepsy was regarded as a form of mania caused by the evil influence of the moon. by the way, this may also remind us of the peculiar views of the alchemists of the middle ages, who believed that the property of sex inhered in the metals. they believed, for example, that arsenic was masculine in sex, and so named it from _arsen_, male, and _arsenikos_, masculine. medical, like comparative philology, is the more or less direct outcome of the earth's physical features as they have influenced the commingling of races and the conquest of nations. medicine seems a science of aryan parentage; in the sanscrit the literature of medicine is rich; it was cultivated by the greeks, but it lost much of its original significance by virtue of roman supremacy, as the latin races took it over. under the arabians it flourished after a fashion. with the revival of greek learning there was a restoration of much that had been lost, but the supremacy of the church kept it within extremely narrow limits, though the clericals could not eliminate all the arabian words which had crept into its terminology. greek is to-day the language to which we turn for aid when it becomes necessary to invent new terms by which to indicate fresh discoveries or concepts. the debt of medicine to our aryan forefathers is great. surgery was then a dignified branch of the science. their autoplastic methods were conceived with great ingenuity and carried out with much, albeit with crude skill. the so-called indian method of reconstructing a nose bears witness to their ability in plastic art. their itinerant surgeons performed many capital operations; i. e., lithotomy and coeliotomy. there is good reason to believe that hippocrates knew nothing of practical anatomy, whereas, long before him susruta urged that all physician priests should dissect the human body in order that they might know its structure; and gave, moreover, directions for the selection of suitable subjects. the sanscrit writers knew the properties of many plants and of at least five of the metals. many greek names of drugs are derived from the sanscrit, or else they had a common aryan origin. thus the greek equivalents for our words castor, musk, cardamon, chestnut, hemp, mace, pepper, sandal-wood, ginger, nerve, marrow, bone, heart, and head, are unmistakably of much older, i. e., sanscrit or aryan stock, several of them coming down in romanized form, but almost unchanged--e. g., os, cor, moschus, cannabis, castorion. although many of the ancient greeks visited india, it appears that but relatively few words have come to us from this ancient source. our word sulphur, though, is of sanscrit origin, the greek word _theion_ indicating its divine or god-given purifying power, with possible allusion to its utility in that lower world with which the theologians most often associate it. the greek word appears in our chemical nomenclature as dithionic, trithionic, etc. we note also an almost complete absence of egyptian words, though many cultured greeks visited egypt. nevertheless, the latter looked with small favor on barbarisms of speech, and our word pyramid is one of the very few which they thus adopted. the term surgery is of very distinct greek origin, and meant handwork as distinguished from the action of internal remedies. medicine seems to be derived from _medeo_ to take care of, to provide, and physic and physician from _phusis_, i. e., nature. the physici were originally naturalists, or scientists, like aristotle, medical science being but a part of their study. campbell in his book ("the language of medicine") gives a list of at least two dozen common terms of to-day which were employed by homer. in addition to these, many other homeric terms are still in use, but with more or less altered or perverted meanings; for example, æther, when used in the sense of its being a narcotic agency; astragalus, which originally meant a die, since the analogous bones of the sheep were used for dice; amoeba, from _amoibe_, change or alteration, alluding to constant change of shape. ammon originally meant a young lamb, iris a halo, meconium has reference to the juice of the poppy, from _mekon_, opium; molybdenum was so named from its resemblance to lead, narcosis originally meant numbness; the pleura was the side; the original phial was a saucer; the phalanges were so called because they were arranged side by side as it were in a phalanx; our troche was at first a wheel; and our tympanum was the original greek drum, the word still persisting in musical terminology. the arteries were so named because they were supposed to contain air, while the veins were the gushers, from _phleo_, to gush or flow. the original confusion of nerves and tendons appears in the term aponeurosis. long ago there were two rival medical factions among the greeks, the empirics, from _empeirikos_, meaning experimental--who believed there were no philosophic underlying principles of medical science, and that experience alone was the safe guide,--and the methodists, from _methodos_, who believed it better to follow the _hodos_, or "middle of the road." the present use of the word empiric shows the contempt with which the former came to be regarded. as cure (_curo_) meant to care for, so did medicus have the same meaning, as already remarked, while the greek slave, _therapon_, who waited on his master, became later the therapeutist who cared for his ailments. our word to heal has also a somewhat similar dislocated meaning, since originally it meant protection, i. e., covering. the same root persists in hell, i. e., hades, referring to a certain supposititious locality so well covered that from it there is no escape. note, too, the influence of ancient mythology in medical phraseology. jupiter ammon, the horned god, is recognized in hartshorn or ammonia. mars, the god of war, whose symbol is iron, persists in the so-called martial preparations or ferruginous tonics. venus and aphrodite naturally appear in venereal and aphrodisiac, while vulcan's rôle is indicated in the heat to which caoutchouc is subjected in vulcanizing rubber. mercury appears not only in roman form as a metal, but in his greek rôle as hermes, not to be forgotten when receptacles are hermetically sealed. let us cut short a longer list by simply noting in passing how the greek cupid eros and his mate psyche are perpetuated in our terms erotic and psychiatry, while morpheus, the god of sleep, can never be forgotten so long as morphine is in use. that the wrath of the gods was to be dreaded is indicated in our word plague, from _plege_, meaning a _blow_ from that source, that is their vengeance. you thus see the antiquity of the notion that epidemics were a divine visitation, and not due to bad sanitation. melancholia, _melas_ and _chole_, meant originally black bile. in ancient physiology the bile played a very important part, and the results of hepatic insufficiency were not only indicated by this name, but the advantages of the use of calomel were amply emphasized by its name, _kalos_ and _melas_, for it was a beautiful remedy for this blackness. another condition indicating trouble with the liver, which we call jaundice to-day (from the french _jaunisse_), was known as icterus from _ikteros_, a yellow bird. the poultice which the average housewife of to-day is so fond of using, was originally a _poltos_, or pudding, or perhaps a bean porridge. in the days of ancient sacrifices one part of the animal was not placed upon the altar as an offering to delight the gods. it was that now known as the _sacrum_, which is usually defined to have been considered the sacred bone. the adjective _sacer_ (sacrum), had not only the meaning generally ascribed to it, but meant also execrable, detestable, accursed. the sacrum meant then rather the part that was not acceptable to those to whom it was offered. the word _calculus_, like the term to calculate, must remind us of the presence of pebbles and their early use in facilitating reckoning, while our common terms testimony, testify, must necessarily recall the ancient sacred but phallic methods of oath-taking. another superstition connected with deity is perpetuated in the term _iliac passion_, formerly applied to volvulus, or one form of acute bowel obstruction with its violent pain, which has been compared to that produced by the spear-point as part of the suffering upon the cross. a keen analysis of the situation at the beginning of the christian era reveals the subtlety of the greek character. the names of those organs which called for deep investigation or dissection are taken directly from the greek, e. g., hepatic, sphenoid, ethmoid, the aorta, while many of the superficial parts have latin names, e. g., temporal, frontal. it is to the greek that all nations almost invariably turn when they seek to fashion new terms with which to characterize or name new discoveries. the romans showed their appreciation of that which was good when they so readily adopted the science and learning of the greeks, and were willing to take over even their gods. the latin races have always been good imitators but poor originators, save perhaps in war and politics. had they been willing to imitate the greeks in these their history might have been very different. when the latin translators of greek medical literature lacked for a word they cheerfully took the original, sometimes giving it a latin dress. for instance, that which we now call the duodenum, meaning only twelve, was originally the dodekadaktulon, meaning that it was of a length equal to the width of twelve fingers, while they twisted the name _eileon_, the twisted intestine, into _ileum_. but the names of most diseases, like those of the more concealed parts, they copied almost exactly. while in later ages the church completely dominated, then subordinated, and then finally almost terminated the study of the natural sciences, it is yet of no small interest to note the effect of the rise of christianity upon the study of medicine. it has been well said that the same "cross which brought light to religion cast a gloom over philosophy" (campbell). certain it is that the creed and the tenets which were for centuries the mainstay of christianity, and which did so much for the uplifting of mankind, were made the excuse for the gradual suppression of all tendency toward investigation of natural phenomena, and the monasteries, where scholars congregated, became the graves of scientific thought and study. and so in time knowledge was exiled from christian domiciles and transplanted to a mohammedan environment. with christian mythology and mysticism soon came also christian demonology, and disease was generally regarded as an evidence of diabolical possession. this gave rise then, as even now, to the imposters who pretended to cure it by exorcism of evil spirits or invocation of divine or superhuman aid. it has always been a sorry time for rational medicine when superstition is rife. even under the arabians science flourished to but a limited extent. their religion forbade the portrayal of any living object, animal or vegetable, consequently their works contained mere descriptions, never any illustration of any kind. this, by the way, is the explanation of their fondness for geometric tracery and of the richness of their ornamental designs. they professed the same horror of the dead body that was later inculcated by the church and most of them scorned dissection. what wonder then that under christianity and islam alike our profession fared badly. but very little now remains in our terminology to remind us of the period of arabian supremacy. the arabic words naphtha, sumach, alkali, alcohol, elixir and _nucha_ (neck) are almost the only ones which have survived the renaissance. how different the monkish latin sometimes is from the classic may appear in the use of the two words os and bucca for mouth, or os frontis and glabella for the frontal bone. but this enumeration must not be prolonged unduly. let us select three or four more examples almost at random and then pass on. but few will associate christianity with cretinism. the early christian inhabitants of the pyrenees were known as _christaas_, or in french, as to-day, as chretiens. a mountainous region did for them what it has done in switzerland for the races of to-day, and dwarfed the intellects of many while their thyroids underwent great enlargement. such degenerates are known everywhere to-day as cretins, i. e., christians. tarentum was the old calabrian city later known as tarento, where during the middle ages the dancing mania appeared in aggravated form. the frenzy was known in consequence as _tarantism_, while the spider whose bite was supposed to cause it was called _tarantula_, and a rapid dance music which alone would suit such rapid movements is still known as the _tarantella_. nightmare has reference to the old norse deity or demigod mara, who was supposed to strangle people during sleep. the sardonic grin has reference to a tradition that in sardinia was found a plant which when eaten caused people to laugh so violently that they died. but turn we now from words to those deeds which are reputed to proclaim yet more loudly the manner and the worth of their authors. where may one look for a profession which shall afford greater opportunities? and where may he find one in which incentives are so small? the world's great rewards have been paid to the great destroyers of our race rather than to its saviors. do you suppose that if napoleon had saved as many lives as he lost he would have figured in history with his present lustre? it is true that lister's discovery has saved many more lives than napoleon took. if so, the hôtel des invalides should, when the time comes, contain lister's monument and not that of a great murderer. personal courage is one of the noblest characteristics which any man can display, particularly so when it combines the moral and the physical type. public bravery brings nearly always its meed of public recognition. in fact, publicity is often the stimulus to a kind of bravery which without it would hardly respond to the tests. but your really courageous man is he who cares not for a search-light to reveal his deeds, one who dares and does within the quietude of his own environment that from which his weaker brothers would shrink. the soldier stirred to frenzy by the intensity of his passion will accomplish with but little dread that which might easily baffle the resolution of a reasoning man in a calm mood. the religious fanatic, be he mussulman or christian, may permit himself to be rent asunder rather than recant; but his motives are essentially selfish, since he looks forward to the mohammedan's or the christian's paradise, and so they are far from altruistic. but for that quiet heroism which shuns publicity, which calls for the highest quality of both mental and physical courage, which looks forward neither to the golden present nor the mystical yet sensuous future, commend me daily, yes hourly, to the sick rooms of patients suffering from diseases which menace the welfare of others, the infectious, the dangerous, the loathsome. one may read of late many stories of army surgeons doing heroic deeds under fire, and one's heart naturally thrills with emotion as he imagines the scenes and wonders what manner of daring may lead a man to risk his life after this fashion. but i submit to you, that brave as is such a deed and worthy of all possible honor, it has been hundreds of times for one exceeded in the actual devotion to duty and the resolution required to brave the elements, or to face death elsewhere than on the battlefield, or to surrender strength or mayhap life itself, or to invite disaster by infection, or to wear out and work out life in the constant grinding altruistic work of doing for others, who perhaps have violated every known sanitary law and forfeited their every right to live. here is a theme that might well stir the most eloquent poet or orator that ever lived. how then shall i do it justice? joanna bailie has well put it: "the brave man is not he who feels no fear, for that were stupid and irrational; but he whose nobler soul its fear subdues, and bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." this recognition of our profession was accorded much more unstintingly nearly two thousand years ago, at a time when it was much less deserved, when cicero wrote (_de natura deorum_) "_homines ad deos nulla re propius accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando._" (men are never more godlike than when giving health to mankind). but we can hardly delay longer here and at this time with the subject of heroism in medicine. i shall not have completed the matters which i wish to present to you to-day until i invite your attention to a short sketch of the careers of four or five of the men who, during the past two or three hundred years have set the example for men of all times and most climes, whose lives are so replete with that which is interesting, instructive or important that they may be well held up before a graduating class as illustrations of everything which may be advantageously imitated. they belong to that class of whom longfellow wrote: "lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime." one of those was jean fernel, who was born in france about and died in . i do not know that his life history offers anything so very startling, although he came to be regarded as the most memorable physiologist of his generation, but he adopted a motto which i think we all might well select for our own, and it was because of this motto that i have mentioned his name at this point. it was this: "_destiny reserves for us repose enough._" if each of you will take this individually to himself he will find in it stimulus enough for all kinds of hard work. the first of the eminently great men now to be mentioned in this connection was herman boerhaave, born in and died in . he enjoyed the reputation of being perhaps the most eminent physician who ever lived. the eldest son of a poor clergyman with a large family, he was originally intended for theology, and with this in view studied philosophy, history, logic, metaphysics, philology and mathematics, as well as theology. a mere accident, resulting from intense party spirit and doctrinal differences, prevented his devoting his life to theology, and he turned next to mathematics and then to chemistry and botany, subsequently studying anatomy and medicine. he graduated in and began at once to practice in leyden, with such success that he was early offered the position of ordinary surgeon to the king, which, however, he had the moral courage to decline. subsequently he taught medicine and botany, to which chairs was also added later that of chemistry. this fact of itself will show to you something of the condition of medical science of that day, when one man could teach chemistry, botany and medicine. his rarest talents, however, were developed in the direction of clinical instruction, and in this particular field he won such repute that hearers were attracted to leyden from all quarters of the world and in such numbers that no university lecture-room was large enough to contain them. his practice grew in extent and remunerativeness in pace with his reputation, and when he died he left an estate of two millions. so famous was he that it is said of him that a chinese official once sent to him a letter addressed simply "to the most famous physician in europe." that he had fixed convictions and practices may be better understood from the fact that so little difference did he make between his patients that he kept peter the great waiting over one night to see him, declining to regulate his visiting list by the means or position of his patients. boerhaave was universally regarded as a great student and a great physician, but it was probably his qualities as a man which led to the astonishing extent of his reputation. essentially modest, not disputatious nor belligerent, he had a remarkable influence over the young men who came near him, while he had a habit of speaking oracularly or in aphorisms, which are not always so profound as they sound and yet often make a man's dicta celebrated. save that he introduced the use of the thermometer and the ordinary lens in the examinations of his patients, his teachings do not form any really new system. in the classification of men he would be regarded as a great eclectic, in the purer sense of the term. probably his greatest service to medicine was in the permanent establishment of the clinical method of instruction, and perhaps his next greatest real claim to glory is the character of the instruction and the inspiration which he gave to two of his greatest scholars, viz.: haller and van swieten. he was not the founder of a school. he left no great nor memorable doctrines for which others should contend, but he left a name for studiousness, honest and logical thinking, which was a priceless heritage for the university with which he was connected. the next great scholar to whose life and works i would invite your attention for a moment, is morgagni, born in italy in , died in . he was a pupil of valsalva, whose assistant he became at the age of nineteen. brought up in this way, as it were in the domain of anatomy, it is not strange that he devoted his attention throughout his life especially to the anatomical products of disease. it matters little to us now that he was wont to regard these products as the causes of disease and thus neglected their remote causes. he it was who taught us to apply to pathological anatomy the same scrupulous attention to tissue alterations and changes which the ordinary anatomist would note in dissecting a new animal form. he was scarcely the founder of the science of pathological anatomy, for this credit belongs to benivieni, but he did very much to popularize the study and to show its importance. more than this, he wrote a work which for his day and generation was colossal. it bore the title "_de sedibus et causis morborum per anatomen indagatis._" it consisted of five books. the first appeared in venice in . this proved a perfect mine of information to which one may often turn even to-day, and read with wonder the observations published one hundred and fifty years ago. they stamp morgagni as a great scientist as well as anatomist. his industry will be indicated by the fact that even after he became blind he did not cease to work. perhaps the most wonderful figure in the whole history of modern medicine is that of albrecht von haller, of berne, born , died , and often known as the great. no more versatile genius than his has ever adorned our profession. a most precocious child, he developed remarkable abilities in the direction of poetry and music, as well as medicine, and the only wonder is that he lived to such a ripe old age, enjoying the fruits of his labors, having displayed throughout his entire life an industry and productiveness which were most remarkable. before he reached the age of ten he had written a chaldee grammar, a greek and hebrew vocabulary, and a large collection of latin verses and biographies. during the next few years he translated many of the latin authors, and wrote an original epic poem of some four thousand verses on the swiss confederacy. all of this work he had completed by the age of twenty-one. it is not strange that among those who knew of his precocity he was generally known and regarded as a "wonder child." it will thus be seen, too, that medicine was but one of the many subjects of his study. he studied a year in tübingen, where the riotous living of his fellow students repelled him; then he went to leyden, falling there under the influence of the illustrious boerhaave. how much he drew from this source no man may accurately say at present, but a more brilliant example he certainly could not have had. he finished his studies in leyden before he was twenty and then traveled through england and france, but was compelled to flee from paris to escape arrest for hiding cadavers in his room for purposes of dissection. this will prove an evidence of taste for study if not of taste in other directions. suddenly developing a passion for mathematics, he went to basle and worked so hard as to almost ruin his health. this necessitated a trip to the mountains and here his interest in botany was aroused and indirectly that in medicine continued. soon after he returned to berne to take up the practice of medicine. here he studied and worked so hard as to arouse a suspicion of his sanity, but he kept up his health by frequent trips to the alps in search of flowers. his fondness for botany and his taste for poetry seemed to grow with equal pace and he seems to have been among the first of modern students to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of swiss mountain scenery. when he was twenty-five years of age appeared the first edition of his poems, many editions appearing later. here in berne also he published so many essays on botany, anatomy and physiology that widespread attention was attracted to his eminent learning, and he was called to fill the chair of anatomy and botany in the new university of göttingen, where he spent seventeen years of extraordinary mental activity, publishing countless papers and at the same time continuing his poetic and his nomadic habits. he established in göttingen a great botanic garden, founded scientific societies, published five books on anatomy, all elaborately illustrated, printed a series of commentaries on boerhaave's lectures, and is said to have contributed altogether thirteen thousand articles relating to almost every branch of human knowledge. it is not strange that the fame of the university of göttingen depended largely upon haller's reputation. but haller developed a clear case of nostalgia, and after being fêted by the nobility, honored by almost every monarch in europe, and receiving every honor that universities and philosophic societies confer, he resigned from his chair in göttingen and returned to berne, to his _fatherland_. here, amid his old home surroundings, he worked for twenty years more at the same tremendous rate, discharging diverse duties of state and private citizenship, founding and promoting industries and asylums, and serving constantly upon commissions of all kinds. while thus engaged appeared that phenomenal work, his great treatise on physiology, so full of original observations that it has been stated that should discoveries which have been re-discovered since haller be collected they would fill several quarto volumes. the physiological institute of berne is to-day known as the _hallerianum_, as it should be, for it is distinctly the product of his genius. he died at a ripe age, after having performed an incredible amount of work, the greatest scholar of his own or perhaps of any century, revered and honored, faithful to the last and exhibiting in his last moments that "philosophic calmness of the cultivated intellect" of which cicero loved to write. it is related of him that on his deathbed he kept his fingers on his own wrist, watching the ebbing away of his own existence and waiting for the last pulsation from his radial artery. finally he exclaimed, "i no longer feel it," and then joined the great majority. perhaps haller's greatest contribution to physiological lore was his doctrine of irritability of tissues. it took the place of much that had caused previous discussion and is accepted to-day as explaining, as nearly as we can explain, numerous phenomena. in this same great wonder-century lived also john hunter, the greatest of england's medical students, the most famous surgeon of his day and the most indefatigable collector in natural history and natural science that ever lived. he was born in and died in . he was led to study medicine by the fame of his illustrious brother william, and began his studies by acting as prosector for him. he soon became a pupil of cheselden, perhaps the most famous english surgeon of his generation. hunter developed very early those extraordinary powers of observation and that originality in investigation which later made him so famous. early in his medical career he came for a time under the influence of percival pott. this was at a time when surgery had emerged from barbarism and when the french academy of surgery had erected it into the dignity of a science. he entered st. george's hospital in as a surgeon's pupil. later he became a partner with his brother in the latter's private school of anatomy, but john, being a poor lecturer, was distinguished by his services in the dissecting-room rather than in the amphitheater. the customs of his time and the jealousies of the various medical factions then existing in london led to numerous acrimonious disputes, in the literary part of which william hunter, who was much the more cultured student, took the lead, while john, who lacked in scholastic ability and had much less education, was relied on to supply the anatomical data. john was painfully aware of his deficiencies in literary culture and is said once to have replied to the disparaging remarks of an opponent: "he accuses me of not understanding the dead languages, but i could tell him that on the dead body which he never knew in any language living or dead." it was in this way that he was led into unseemly encounters with the munros, of edinburgh, and with his late teacher, pott. the same sort of dispute finally separated the two brothers, and they parted company after a very unseemly exhibition of jealousy and fraternal discord. after studying human anatomy for several years, john hunter became profoundly impressed with the need for much larger knowledge of comparative anatomy, but about this time ill health compelled a temporary change and so he went into the army as a staff surgeon. this was at the time when europe was engaged in the sanguinary seven years' war, and so it happened that hunter had ample opportunity for studies and observations in military surgery--at the siege of belleisle and later in the war in the peninsula. here he made many of those observations on gunshot wounds which he published at various periods later and which helped to make him famous. he resumed his work in london in , and here again he had to undergo a long trial of those qualities of passive fortitude and active perseverance under difficulties which were his prominent characteristics. his personal needs were small but his scientific requirements were large, and to these latter he devoted every guinea which he could earn in his small but slowly growing practice. his own manners were so brusque, and he was so lacking in the refinement of many of his colleagues and competitors, that it took rare mental qualities to force him to the front, to which he nevertheless rapidly advanced. bacon has said, "he that is only real had need of exceeding great parts of virtue, as the stone had need be rich that is set without foil," and this was never more true than in john hunter's case. his leisure hours were never unemployed. he obtained the bodies of all animals dying in the public collections in london and so began to form that enormous collection which became known later as the hunterian museum. as his means afforded it he built and added to his accommodations and carried on those vast researches into animal anatomy and physiology to which the balance of his life was devoted. although his practice gradually increased and he became in time the most famous surgeon and consultant in london, he used, nevertheless, to spend three or four hours every morning before breakfast in dissection of animals, and as much of the rest of the day as he could spare. pupils and students who wished to consult him had to come early in the morning, often as early as four o'clock, in order to find him disengaged. he had that rare ability to do a maximum of work with a minimum of sleep which has been so conspicuous in the case of virchow. before he died, hunter attained to a large competence, and his anatomical collection, consisting of some ten thousand preparations, made largely with his own hands, was purchased after his death by the government, for seventy-five thousand dollars, and presented to the college of surgeons where it forms the chief part of the so-called hunterian museum. hunter's principal claims to greatness obtain in this, that he not only brought the light of physiology to bear upon the practice of our art, but by his writings and teachings and especially by his example led men to follow along the paths he cleared for them. it is no small claim to glory to be known by such pupils as hunter had. by these, by his colossal industry in building up his museum, and by his writings, he will ever be known as the most prominent figure in the medical history of great britain. the fifth man in this quintette of geniuses which i am presenting to you to-day was francis xavier bichat, who was born in france in , and died in . although he was thirty-one years old at his death, his career was so phenomenal, almost meteoric, that it deserves to be held up as showing what one can do in the early period of his life, if he will but work. as one reads of his originality and talent one is led almost insensibly to compare them with those of some of the world's famous musicians who, also, have died in early manhood after giving to the world their immortal works, e. g., schubert, mozart and mendelssohn. bichat was the son of a physician and applied himself early to medical studies in nantes, lyons, montpellier and finally in paris, where he became the pupil and trusted friend of desault, then the greatest parisian surgeon. when desault died, in , this young man began lecturing for him, at the age of twenty-four. he displayed a wonderful, almost feverish scientific activity, more particularly in the direction of general and pathological anatomy. he was the originator of the phrase which he made famous: "take away some fevers and nervous troubles, and all else belongs in the domain of pathological anatomy." coming upon the stage shortly after morgagni left it, he was able by his genius, his logical acumen and his graces of speech and manner, to give an attractiveness and importance to this subject which it had hitherto lacked. it was his great service to more clearly differentiate closely related diseased conditions and to insist upon a study of post-mortem appearances in connection with previously observed clinical phenomena. he also established the tendency of similar tissues to similar anatomical lesions. in fact our view of what we call general tissue systems we in reality owe to him, since without use of the microscope he distinguished twenty-one kinds of tissue, which he studied under the head of general anatomy, while he held that descriptive anatomy had to do with their various combinations. to bichat was largely due the overthrow of purely speculative medicine because he placed facts far in advance of theories and ideas. books he said are or should be merely "memoranda of facts." that he made many such memoranda will appear from the fact that before his untimely death he had published nine volumes of essays and treatises, nearly all bearing on the general subject of anatomy, normal and morbid. he also had not only his limitations but his faults. he strangely denied the applicability of so-called physical laws to body processes, he minimized the importance of therapeutics, and he sought to place the vitalistic system upon a realistic basis. nevertheless he set an example not only for the young men of france, but of all times and climes, which should be often held up before them. and so i have thus placed before you five bright and shining illustrations of what brains and application can accomplish, selected from different lands in order to show that medicine has no country, and from a previous century in order that you may the better realize how meagre was their environment in those days as compared with that which you enjoy. perhaps you will say, "there were giants in those days." true, but the race has not entirely died out. while spencer and virchow live one may not call the race extinct, nor can the times which have produced such men as helmholtz, dubois-reymond, darwin, huxley, leidy or marsh, fail to still produce an occasional worthy successor. but it is time now to draw this rather rambling discourse to an end. the effort has been partly to attract your attention to some of the side lights by which the vista of your futures may be the more pleasantly illumined, and partly, by placing before you brief accounts of the careers of some of your illustrious predecessors, to show that eminence in medical science inheres in no particular nationality nor race, neither comes it of heredity nor by request. like salvation it is available to all who fulfill the prerequisites. it is a composite product of application, direction, fervor in study, logical powers of mind, honesty of purpose, capability of observation, alertness to improve opportunities, all combined with that somewhat rare gift of tact, which last constitutes the so-called personal equation by which many humanitarian problems are solved. _study nature for facts; study lives of great men for inspiration how to use them._ "were a star quenched on high for ages would its light, still traveling downward from the sky, shine on our mortal sight. so when a great man dies for years beyond our ken, the light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men." if then you regulate your mental habits by such a code other habits will of necessity fall into the proper line. the only other admonition i would give you in parting is summed up in these beautiful lines of our own bryant: "so live that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan which moves to that mysterious realm where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams." that the sentiment is not new, however, will appear in this other and ancient version which sir william jones has thus rendered from the persian: "on parent knees, a naked newborn child, weeping thou satst while all around thee smiled, so live that, sinking to thy last long sleep, calm mayst thou smile while all around thee weep." x the career of the army surgeon[ ] [ ] commencement address at the army medical school, washington, d. c., may , .--from "_the military surgeon_," july, . the experience of listening to a so-called commencement address under these peculiar circumstances is doubtless as novel to you as is to me its preparation. so different is this occasion from that usually spoken of as commencement day, that it taxed my judgment as much as it did my ability to--as it were--"meet the indication," and to try to say the appropriate thing. it behooves me to remember that this is in effect not an address to a class of students just entering a learned profession, but an effort on the part of one on the borderland of experiences gathered from a civil surgeon's work, yet enjoying a quasi military title, with strong ties and leanings--to some extent inherited--toward the course of the army surgeon and the fascinations of the soldier's life. self-evident it is that you need no admonition which i could give, for the very fact of your presence here indicates that your selection by your superior officers stamps their approval of your ability as well as your character. time has wrought vast changes in the personnel of the army medical corps, as in every other branch of the service. from the days of xenophon, with his selection of the best material afforded, to the dark middle ages with practically no provision, then to the later centuries with their menial barbers and barber surgeons, and then the very gradually improved conditions which bettered the service, down to the present time, when the best is none too good, there has been that same evolution which has characterized all the rest of mankind's surroundings and man's realization of his public and private duties. from the days when the first duty of the so-called army surgeon was to minister to his commanding general, and when the private soldier received but the scantiest if any attention, we have arrived at that time when the good health of the entire army is the aim and pride of the medical corps, and when public opinion demands for every enlisted man a degree of watchful care greater than many parents bestow upon their own families. the line officer of to-day can no longer afford to disregard the advice of his medical officers, and camp sanitation is now of even greater importance than operative technique, because preventable sickness and the incapacity caused by disease are recognized as far more to be dreaded than the bullets of the enemy. public estimate of our duties to the sick and wounded has varied largely during different epochs. thus homer makes nestor say: "a surgeon skilled our wounds to heal, is more than armies to the public weal." homer also lauded the services of the two sons of aesculapius, whom he deified as the grandest of heroes and the wisest of surgeons, and thus wrote of them at the siege of troy, twelve hundred years before the birth of christ: "of two great surgeons, podalirius stands this hour surrounded by the trojan bands, and great machaon, wounded, in his tent now wants the succor which so oft he lent." again he thus describes an operation: "patroclus cut the forky steel away; while in his hand a bitter root he pressed, the wound he washed and styptic juice infused; the closing flesh that instant ceased to glow, the wound to torture, and the blood to flow." contrast the tender mercies thus described with an incident occurring during one of the exciting experiences of ambroise paré, who one day, during a battle, saw three desperately wounded soldiers placed with their backs against a wall. an old campaigner inquired, "can those fellows get well?" "no," answered ambroise. thereupon the old campaigner went up to them and cut all their throats, "sweetly and without wrath." note, if you will, the expression, "sweetly and without wrath," since it implies a primitive form of humanity in providing euthanasia for the hopelessly wounded. while it has been from time immemorial the custom to attach surgeons to various armies, some idea of prevailing notions of antiquity may be gained from the statement that xenophon had but eight field surgeons with his , troops. in his army the sick and wounded were cared for in adjoining villages, or, when on the march, were carried in the rear of the troops, being cared for by women from "the baggage." whether these women were the "vivandieres" of those days i do not quite make out, nevertheless they must have been much the same thing. in the days of rome's greatest glory each cohort of men had four surgeons, while each legion of ten cohorts had one legionary physician. in the navy there was also one physician to each trireme; nevertheless the wounded on land or sea received scant attention, although it is interesting to read that each soldier carried with him the most necessary bandages ready for use, an emergency packet supposed to be quite modern. a few hundred years later, in the eastern empire, the emperor maurice ordered that throughout every division of from two hundred to four hundred cavalry eight or ten of the strongest men be selected, in order to bring to the rear those who were severely wounded, to supply them with water, and to collect the weapons lying upon the field. these mounted cavalrymen received a small reward for each person rescued. three hundred years later this arrangement was continued in operation by leo vi. wherever it was possible the sick and wounded soldiers were cared for by monks or by sisters, in the numerous hospices and institutions which abounded throughout the east, and although the care was often of the worst the efforts made were in the right direction. holy oil, laying on of hands, supplication, and the use of holy relics constituted a large part of the treatment in vogue; nevertheless these remedies were not quite so injurious as some of the other and more disgusting ones whose use prevailed in those days. without doubt the two army surgeons who during the last years achieved more fame than any of their colleagues were ambroise paré, and baron larrey. such commanding figures were they, not only in their professional work, but in the general influence which they wielded alike upon sovereign and common soldier, that they will ever be regarded as among the most memorable characters of common history. paré died in , larrey in . each was passed along from one ruler or commander to his successor, and each was regarded as about the most priceless legacy which could be thus transmitted. paré's name has always been most conspicuously mentioned in connection with the history of the introduction of the ligature as a substitute for the cautery iron or boiling oil, previously in use for the checking of hemorrhage, and for his teaching concerning the nature of gun-shot wounds, which had been previously and universally considered as necessarily poisoned wounds; but his new practice and his new views in these respects were but a small part of the general services which he rendered. it is not worth while to try to even epitomize here to-day the history of the ligature; though while its introduction has been widely credited to paré, you must not forget that it was in use many centuries before his time, and was frequently mentioned by the early writers. what paré really did was, first, to abolish a barbarous and unscientific method of dealing with hemorrhage, and then to re-introduce or promote the employment of the ligature as a far preferable substitute, more humane, more clean, and more desirable. and so rather than do scant justice by incomplete reference to paré's actual contributions to knowledge i prefer rather to speak of the other side of this great man's character, and to remind you of some of the many ways by which he secured such marvellous influence over those around him, and made his remarkable personality of the greatest use. as he passed through one campaign after another his reputation became more and more firmly established, and inspired surgeons the world over with the desire to visit him. in almost his every act his sagacity was conspicuously displayed, while, whenever they were called for, his personal courage and absolute lack of fear were equally apparent. deprived of the benefits of early and liberal training he probably, on that very account, developed his power of thought, his memory and his analytical powers all the more keenly, inasmuch as these were made to take the place of what he might have learned from books. the following anecdote will serve to illustrate, for instance, the general esteem in which he was held. in october, , the army of charles v. was besieging the city of metz, and charles himself came to take command. in the beleaguered city were gathered the nobility and the bluest blood of france, while at the head of the defending forces was the duke of guise. the imprisoned soldiers and civilians suffered alike from the onslaughts of the enemy, the rigors of a frightful winter, the lack of food, and the presence of disease. the duke had established two hospitals for the soldiers, which he put in charge of the barber surgeons of the city, and furnished them with money with which to procure supplies, but owing to the wretched incompetence of these same barber surgeons nearly all the wounded perished, and the horrible suspicion arose that the soldiers were being poisoned. the duke sent word to the king of france that the place could hold out for ten months, but that they needed more medicines. the king then sent for paré, gave him money, ordered him to take all the medicines and other supplies he deemed necessary, and further aided him by bribing an italian captain to permit the celebrated surgeon, in some way, to enter the besieged city. braving all dangers, and being finally successful, paré entered metz two months later. he had at this time been with the armies for at least sixteen years, and was known by sight to officers and soldiers alike. on the day after his arrival the duke of guise dramatically presented him, on the ramparts, to all his officers, who embraced him, and hailed him with loud acclaim, while by the soldiers he was received with shouts of triumph. "we shall not die," they exclaimed, "even though wounded, for paré is among us." the effect of this great surgeon's appearance was to give new vigor to the defenders, and to it was due the fact that the city was saved. in his time paré met with success such as to-day would be pronounced most extraordinary. he inspired the wounded with utmost confidence, and displayed, always and everywhere, remarkable firmness. not the least notable feature in his personal history is it that he should have so long retained favor at court with such outspoken independence of character. equally reputable among army surgeons of the past, and one of the most commanding figures in history, medical or other, was baron larrey. for more than fifty years he was an army surgeon, and for a great part of that period he stood really closer to napoleon than almost any of the men whom the latter attached to his person by one or another of those traits that made him such a remarkable figure. that one of the greatest murderers and one of the greatest life-savers of all time should have been so closely drawn to each other, constitutes one of the most noteworthy incidents of history. alike in many respects, so unlike in so many others, it is one of the most creditable features of napoleon's career that he should have accorded to larrey that recognition which he early gave and never withdrew. never was such tribute more signally deserved nor worthily bestowed. though he passed through twenty-six campaigns, "from syria to portugal, and from moscow to madrid," and though his wonderful courage never failed him under the most trying surroundings of carnage and conflict, it may still be questioned whether it did not take a higher degree or order of courage to face napoleon in his tent, or tell him plain truths in the tuilleries. the history of campaigning affords innumerable incidents illustrating heroism under fire, or equally trying circumstances, and it is difficult and perhaps unjust to single out a few for individual mention. bravery is confined to no epoch and to no race; it is simply a god-given trait, not by any means possessed by all men. take, for instance, one incident in the career of larrey. during the landing of the english on the shores of aboukir bay, when general silly had his knee crushed by a bullet, larrey appreciated that immediate amputation was imperative, and gaining consent performed it, in three minutes, under the enemy's fire. just as he was finished the english cavalry charged upon them; in his own words, "i had scarcely time," he said, "to take the wounded officer on my shoulders and carry him rapidly toward our army which was in full retreat. i spied a series of ditches across which i passed, while the enemy had to go around by a more circuitous route. thus i had the happiness to reach the rear guard of our army before this corps of dragoons reached us. i arrived at alexandria with this honorable, wounded officer, where i completed his cure." perhaps under no circumstance did larrey's courage and zeal show to better advantage than in the awful retreat from moscow. for example, after the terrible battle of borodino, larrey made two hundred amputations, practically with his own hands, where there were neither couches nor coverings of any kind, when the cold was so intense that the instruments often fell from the benumbed fingers of the surgeons, and when food consisted of horse flesh, cabbage stalks and a few potatoes. and all this while the savage cossacks were hovering around equally ready to kill both surgeons and patients. soon after came the passage of the beresina, with its attendant horrors. general zayonchek, over sixty years of age, had his knee crushed, and was in need of immediate amputation, which larrey performed under the enemy's fire, amid the falling snow, with no shelter except a cloak, held by two officers over the patient while the operation was being performed. the general recovered, and died fourteen years later as viceroy of poland. it was after this passage of the beresina by the imperial guard that it was discovered that all the requisites for the sick and wounded had been left behind and on the other side. larrey at once recrossed the river, and found himself amidst a furious, struggling crowd, in danger of being crushed to death, when suddenly the soldiers recognized him. immediately they took him up in their arms, crossed the river with him, crying, "let us save him who saved us," and forgot their own safety in their regard for him whose merciful kindness they had so often experienced. another incident in larrey's career: ever faithful to napoleon, his adored master, through victory or reverse, larrey stood one night with a small group of medical men gazing over the field of waterloo, and upon the wounded and dying who lay groaning around him. suddenly they were charged by a squadron of prussian lancers, at whom larrey fired his pistols and galloped away, but was overtaken by the prussians, who shot his horse, sabred him, and left him for dead. after a while he recovered his senses, and tried to make his way across lots to france, but was again captured by another detachment of cavalry, who robbed him of everything, and then took him to headquarters, where it was ordered that he be shot. think of such a fate for one who had saved so many lives! but the order would have been carried out promptly had not one of the prussian surgeons recognized larrey, having attended his lectures several years previously. accordingly he was brought before bülow, and finally before marshall blücher, whose son had been wounded and captured by the french in the austrian campaign, and whose life had been saved by larrey's exertions. you may imagine that it did not take long to reverse that order for execution. praise from napoleon was most rare, but of larrey he made this remark in his will, along with a bequest of , francs, "he is the most virtuous man i have ever known." let us mention a few other instances. for example, surgeon thomson, who during the crimean war, after the battle of the alma, volunteered, with his servant, john mcgrath, to remain behind on the open, unsheltered field, with five hundred russians so wounded as to be disabled or even at the point of death. for three days and nights these two englishmen remained practically alone upon that field, covered only with dead and dying, among foreign foes, none of them able to help themselves, or even to speak in a language that could be understood. at the battle of inkerman assistant surgeon wolesley had established his field hospital in that awful place of slaughter, the sandbag battery. when its defenders were reduced to men, and were forced to leave it, most of them retreated in one direction to find, only thirty paces away, a russian battalion blocking their path. there was not one competent officer left, so this surgeon took command. seizing a bayonet because he had no sword, he spoke hurriedly to the men, and explained that their next fight was not merely for victory, but for their own lives; then he led them in a charge that tore so fiercely through the russian detachment that but half of them reached the other side alive. during the south african campaign the papers recorded (but how few read of it?) the fate of surgeon landon, who was shot through the spine while ministering to the wounded on majuba hill. paralyzed below the waist, he had himself propped up, and continued his work as best he could until his strength failed, when he said, "i am dying; do what you can for the wounded." it may be of interest to devote here a few minutes to the consideration of conditions obtaining at the time of our revolutionary war. in the barber surgeon still had a place in the armies of the world and was even then regarded as scarcely more than a menial. never was he accorded the respect or the honors of a gentleman, nor was he allowed to carry a sword. on the other hand, he was subjected to corporal punishment, and could be caned by his colonel, or almost anyone else, whenever such an act was provoked. it may be said that the english troops were somewhat better equipped than were the hired hessians, while the french, who came to our aid, brought with them some far better men, who were in many respects a revelation during our revolution and an inspiration to our own so-called surgeons. but our colonial and general governments dealt very stingily with our army medical department, and their professional equipments were of the most meagre; in fact, the history of surgery of those days, either in the army or in civil life, is practically the history of a few prominent individuals, most of whom had spent the time and money required for study abroad, and who had come home bringing back with them the best of their day, such as it was. for instance, there were the warren brothers, in boston, of whom the elder, joseph, started paul revere on his famous ride. he was elected president of the provincial congress, and just before the battle of bunker hill was made major general of the continental forces, a position which he preferred to that of physician general, which he had been offered. during the battle he fought with a musket, as though a private, and was shot down just as the conflict ended. the younger brother, john, lived to achieve fame and reputation, and transmitted them to his posterity. during the war some colonial regiments even came into camp without any surgeon, or the slightest provision for disease or injury. in congress ordered that there should be one surgeon and five assistants to each , enlisted men, the former being paid $ . per day, the latter $ a day. imagine the attention that could be bestowed upon , soldiers by six men whose services were thus compensated. camp hygiene, hospital corps, and ambulance service were undreamed of; nevertheless john warren, then only twenty-three years of age, accomplished a great deal in building up a medical corps, while as much more was done by benjamin church, of boston, who was styled director general and chief physician, and who was paid $ a day. unfortunately church was detected in traitorous correspondence with the enemy, was court-martialed, imprisoned for a year, then allowed to leave the country, and was probably lost at sea. he was succeeded by john morgan, of philadelphia, who had to fight the politicians as well as the foreign enemy and, failing to satisfy them, was dismissed from the service, though acquitted from all blame. thus you see that even in those days the politicians made it hard to secure adequate and proper care for our sick and wounded soldiers. everywhere at that time were unrest, excitement, and suspicion, and their demoralizing effects showed in every department of military as of civil government. after morgan came shippen, who held office from to , under whose guidance affairs in the medical department improved very much. smallpox had been perhaps the greatest scourge of the soldiers, as well as of the people in general, but this was kept in subjection by the practice of inoculation, which had been generally accepted in this country by nearly all men from washington down. a word or two must also be said about that remarkable man, benjamin rush, with his many-sided, versatile, erratic, obstinate and querulous character, who nevertheless constituted in his day the most prominent figure in the profession; who served two years in congress; who signed the declaration of independence; and who, in the same year, got his first army medical experience. it was perhaps not strange that, with his peculiar temperament, he failed to come under the influence of washington's peculiar personal magnetism, and that their personal relations were not at all to rush's credit, since he endeavored in many ways to belittle his commander-in-chief, and suffered therefor a rather ignominious exposure. the temptation is always to place most stress upon accounts of heroism which happens to be most publicly performed. while this is not unnatural it is often an injustice, since an act of courage may be performed in the lime-light of publicity, with a regard for notoriety, that would be lost were it done in private. it perhaps is not kind to think that anyone would ever be more courageous in public than in private, and yet it is to be feared that human nature is not always free from temptation of this kind. but the real silent heroes of military or civil medical life are those who engage in duties which nevertheless have even more of danger about them than spectacular performances upon the battle field. take for instance, the work done by major reed and dr. carroll, who devoted themselves for months to the study of yellow fever. many a man will stand upon the field of battle permitting himself to be fired upon, but how many will deliberately submit to being bitten by insects believed to be carriers of the germs of yellow fever. dr. carroll had this quiet kind of bravery, and allowed himself to be bitten by a mosquito that twelve days previously had filled himself with the blood of a yellow fever patient, and in consequence suffered from a severe attack, barely escaping with his life. dr. lazear permitted the same experiment upon himself, but was not at that time infected; but some days later while in the yellow fever ward he was bitten by a mosquito, made careful note of the fact, acquired the disease in its most hideous form, and died a martyr to science, as true a hero as ever died upon fortress or man-of-war. others, too, willingly exposed themselves, but there was at that time no other fatality to record. but realizing the value of the service rendered, the indisputable proof of the nature of the disease, and the method by which it is carried, the value of the demonstration becomes inestimable, since a true prophylaxis was demonstrated, and a means furnished of ridding the community of this fearful pestilence. moreover, it was shown how unnecessary it is to destroy valuable property, it being only necessary to kill the mosquitoes, and do away with their breeding places. major reed died a few years after he had led in this fight against the dread disease, but no monument, or other testimonial which can be erected to the memory of reed, carroll and lazear can adequately express the value of the service which they have rendered to the world. "peace hath her victories no less than war." this epigram is as true of the conflicts in which the medical profession engage as of any other. this same sentiment has been put in other words. it is said, "that peace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew." for instance, in new york there is a simple tablet commemorating, in loving remembrance, the death of eighteen young physicians who, one after another, attended a ship load of emigrants sick of typhus fever on quarantine island. they fought their good fight and were buried without martial music, adding eighteen names to the innumerable list of victims who have fought the silent battle of dealing with disease, public gainers only in this, that someone has been thoughtful enough to record their names in this semi-public fashion. taken again the case of dr. franz muller, of vienna, who contracted the bubonic plague while working in the laboratory with its germs. just so soon as he realized that he himself was infected he locked himself in an isolated room, and pasted upon the window pane a sheet of paper containing this message, "i am suffering from plague. do not send a doctor to me, as in any event my end will come in four or five days." he refused to admit those who were anxious to do for him, wrote a letter to his parents which he placed against the window, so that it could be copied from the outside, then burned the original, fearing that if sent through the mail it might carry the elusive germ. was not this equal to any instance of valor under the excitement or the stress of battle and cannonade? could anyone more worthily win a victorian cross, or any other emblem of courage and heroism? many of you have been in, or will go to havana. it will be worth your while to make a pilgrimage to the cemetery there, where were buried sixteen young medical students who lost their lives under peculiar circumstances, which afford as well an illustration of spanish tyranny and injustice. in one of the professors in the medical school died, and was followed to his grave by the students whom he had taught, and who loved him. unfortunately they committed an indiscretion by scribbling with a pencil in a public place some criticism on the government; in consequence they were reported, arrested and court-martialed. the written paragraphs were evidence sufficient, and the governor general ordered the ranks of students to be decimated. there were students all told, and in accordance with this sentence sixteen of them were next day shot without any further ceremony. of these the youngest was not quite sixteen years old, and his father offered his entire fortune for his life, but without avail. later the citizens of havana erected a monument of white marble, at no small cost, to commemorate this sacrifice. there comes over me, as i prepare these words to read to you, a feeling of their inadequacy, and of lack of personal justice to many of my auditors. brought up in civil life, with but a smattering of military training, i am rehearsing incidents of which you may read as easily as i, while at the same time i do not forget that from the lives of many of my auditors there might be drawn just as many illustrations of courage, fortitude, endurance and personal valor as any that the surgeon general's library records. unfortunately i am not familiar with them. they are, happily in one respect, too numerous to mention, and again are not yet public property, because modesty is ever the accompaniment of these other traits which we all admire so much. hence, gentlemen, if i seem to you to disregard or forget many an incident in your lives or the careers of your friends, ascribe it to my ignorance rather than to my intent, and to the fact that i have never seen a battle, and that my fights with disease have not been fought in camps, but within the walls of the quiet sick room or hospital ward. nevertheless i am never happier than when i can try to compel a wider public recognition of what you are constantly doing and of your valorous deeds. next to those general improvements in the service which have come about through natural causes, and as results of a better appreciation of its needs, and of a generally improved state of the profession, nothing has come from outside during the past fifty years which has been so helpful and advantageous as the support afforded by the red cross, and the introduction of skilled nurses; in fact the greatest help which the medical service of the army and navy can enjoy is that which comes from this volunteer and outside source. by the way, i wonder how many of you recall, or are familiar with, the beginnings of the red cross movement? so important has it become that its history should be well known to all. in june, , was fought the bloody battle of solferino, at the conclusion of which some , french, sardinian and austrian soldiers lay dead or dying on the field. the medical corps was, of course, absolutely inadequate to the work thrown upon them, and as usual thousands of wounded men had to care for themselves as best they could. a swiss traveler, henri dunant, viewing the scenes, and being profoundly impressed by them, not only assisted in the work of relief, but wrote a book entitled, "a souvenir of solferino," in which he urged more humane, widespread and speedy aid to the wounded. m. moynier, president of the society of public utility, of geneva, a man of independent means; dr. appia, a wise physician, and m. ador, an eminent lawyer of geneva, also became interested in the movement. the attention of the general of the swiss army was called to it and his co-operation enlisted. in this way came about, in , the formation of a permanent society for the relief of wounded soldiers. at a meeting held in october in the same year men from many countries joined in discussing the subject, and an international conference was held, which resulted in calling an international convention, to be held at geneva in the autumn of . such was the beginning of the red cross movement, which has now extended all over the world, and has afforded an opportunity for all races, creeds and nationalities to care for those who are made victims of war or pestilence, or who suffer from any other great disaster with which private charity is unable to cope. it marks a step in the evolution of mankind, and has now achieved such universal recognition that national governments and individual potentates are glad to join hands in the great work. a more concrete application of the same idea has been the comparatively recent formation of ambulance corps and later of nursing bureaus, within our own service, and the employment of trained nurses. this has not been in all respects an easy matter to bring about, nevertheless it has redounded to the credit and to the welfare of all concerned. never at any time were the sick and injured, either in private or in military practice, so well cared for as now, and america should lead the world to-day, as ever, in the adequacy of its provisions and the perfection of its methods. in private this is notably the case in ordinary hospital work, as seen by all travelers, upon the continent and in great britain, who take pains to make comparisons with the way in which things are done there and in our own country. although florence nightingale immortalized herself by showing what woman could do on the battle field and in military camps, it has remained for americans to improve upon the lessons which she taught, while at the same time revering her for her wonderful devotion to her self-imposed duty and her enthusiasm. in its performance the lessons of the crimean and the civil war, for instance, have left their impressions upon history in such a way as may never be erased, and certainly no one was ever more entitled to the designation of "angel of the sick room" than was miss nightingale. wars of conquest bring about curious results and in unexpected ways. while greed, lust and fanaticism have been the three great impelling and underlying motives for most of the wars which man thrusts upon his fellow-men, one far nobler motive has been the occasional and the only just cause of strife, namely, the desire for liberty; still this is always secondary and the product of some other man's or people's greed. as only by the cataclysms of the natural world has it been prepared for man's habitation, so by some wars have come benefits unforeseen, with an amelioration of the condition of mankind in general, which could not have been secured by any less drastic measures. it is, however, a sad commentary on man's intelligence that most honor is paid to those who have taken the most lives rather than to those who have saved them. no school boy in the remotest districts but is brought up with some trifling knowledge of the world's heroes, so-called, though they were in reality the world's wholesale murderers. yet you may find many persons, credited with higher education, who are still densely ignorant of the benefits conferred by those two greatest discoveries in the world's history (both of anglo-saxon origin), _anaesthesia_ and _antisepsis_, who will talk entertainingly and at length of darius, caesar, hannibal and the more modern military lights, yet who never heard of morton nor of lister. yet if to-day you inquire what is doing in the various parliaments of the world you learn that the talk is ever of more numerous and more powerful engines of destruction, and that those in power have no time to devote to improvements in the army or navy medical service, and that it is even now impossible to secure anything like adequate attention to our needs in this direction. means of taking human life must be constantly at hand; means of saving it are of small importance until the emergency has arisen; and then the blame for inadequate provision of both means and men falls not where it belongs, on the politicians who would not look ahead, but upon the administration of the medical department, who work to the point of desperation and despair in times of peace, who keep perpetual vigil, with scant recognition of the sacredness of their purpose, and scant aid in its accomplishment. are the lessons of the south african, the spanish-american and the russo-japanese wars to be forgotten almost before they have been recited? are we prepared to-day to give adequate care and attention to our soldiers and sailors were war in sight? you well know that we are not; every military or naval surgeon knows we are not; the medical profession generally knows it; and our legislators have been told it until we are tired of repeating it. yet, what is the result? the same indifference on their part, the same ignorance of what it all means; and on the part of the public the same blindness and fatuous confidence that "everything is all right." for instance, if an adequate medical service is to be built up for war there should be one officer to every of enlisted men. estimating that an army of at least , men would be required were we engaged with a first-class power--and what other would dare to engage with us?--this means , army surgeons. of these at least one-fourth should be regular and experienced medical officers. in other words, there should be for such an army at least , medical officers in the regular service, and also at least , volunteer surgeons, professionally and physically equipped for such work. should anyone object that this exceeds all the provisions of time past, the reply is ready and all sufficient, namely, that in time past all such provisions have been utterly inadequate; that the conditions of modern warfare have undergone an entire change, that a sick, wounded or disabled man is an encumbrance, and that it behooves us to prevent sickness, and to cure the disabled man as quickly as possible. furthermore, advances in medicine and surgery have been so great that far more is now expected of the medical corps than ever before, and it is a duty which we owe to those who incur the dangers of fighting for us that we should care for them. we are, therefore, under the very highest moral obligation to give them our best, and enough of it. it must be a small inducement that we offer to men to fight our battles if we permit them to feel that they are not objects of our solicitude when sick or wounded. there is another feature which we cannot disregard. so long as army regulations require that a man educated in advanced science spend much of his valuable time in acting as bookkeeper or clerk, there will be less inducement to enter the service, and it will consequently not attract men of highest proficiency. that which is required of you is complicated and exacting. you must be good bookkeepers, good sanitarians, and equally good surgeons, physicians and even obstetricians. above all, you are expected to be able to keep all the men under your supervision ready for the "firing line" at a moment's notice. you have received the highest compliment which the state can pay when you have been adjudged versatile and competent enough to fill all these rôles and do all these things. moreover, as you gain promotion other things will be expected of you, even, i hope, the filling of the chairs in this modern military medical school. it is in a way the west point of the medical corps, and it would seem as though there should not be the slightest difficulty in replenishing vacancies in its faculty by detail from your ranks. the collections and the literary labors of your corps constitute to-day treasures exceeded in value by but few if any in this, the nation's capital. the library, the museum and the archives of the medical department have been models from which all the nations of the earth have copied. in this connection there occurs to me, by way of contrast, the story of a french surgeon's experiences when he undertook to teach anatomy in a conquered and reconstructed country. after the french occupation of egypt, mehemet ali took it into his head to introduce european civilization into africa, and imported all sorts of artists, scientists and medical men, among them a practitioner of marseilles, a true bohemian in the modern acceptance of the expression, who presented himself in most seedy apparel, saying, "i am a doctor of medicine, with plenty of courage, but no clothes; i want to try my fortune." this man was dr. clot, who rapidly became a favorite of the viceroy. he soon learned arabic so as to speak it fluently, and in six months not only received an army commission, and became a bey, but took the chair of anatomy in the newly organized school of medicine. conditions were all against him. mussulman fanaticism and the prohibitions of the koran opposed all anatomical pursuits, and so soon as he proposed a dissection there was a general explosion. by mohammedan ceremonial one who even touches a dead body is thereby rendered "unclean" for seven days. the ulemas, the muftis, and all of the other fanatics, demanded of the viceroy the closure of the school, and declared dissection a sacrilegious profanation. mehemet refused this, and ordered clot bey to commence his demonstrations. then one day happened the following incident: the professor, scalpel in hand, standing alongside the cadaver, began to open the thorax, when one of the students, either from sheer fanaticism, or more bold than the others, jumped upon him and stabbed him with a poignard. the blade slid over the ribs, and clot bey, perceiving that he was not seriously hurt, applied a piece of plaster to the wound, observing as he did so, "we were speaking of the disposition of the sternum and the ribs, and i now can illustrate to you why a blow directed from above has so little chance of penetrating the cavity of the thorax." he continued his lectures, and turned out some skilful practitioners. he became an officer of almost every order in the world, and acquired more than sixty decorations, although he never wore but one, the red rosette of his own country. (_med. times and gazette_, september , .) while just such an experience may never be duplicated again, the philippines, or some other country yet to fall under our rule, may afford an opportunity for a similar display of _sang froid_. while no one may see far into the future, the maxim, "in time of peace prepare for war," is as true of the medical department as of any. were it a state secret no one would breathe it here, but it is lamentably true and publicly known that even now we are not prepared as we should be. the awful lessons of the spanish war have been forgotten. west point officers have until comparatively recently received no instruction in camp sanitation. some of us worked hard a while ago to have at least elementary instruction in it introduced into their curriculum. as an illustration i believe that to-day they are taught more about horse's feet and how to keep them in good condition, than about those of their men. line officers, especially volunteer, have never been too ready to locate their camps where water and drainage were the best, and the awful mortality of the spanish war was mainly due to preventable disease, while this was due to stupid and inexcusable disregard, on the part of officers of the line (mainly volunteer) of the advice of their medical officers. but, after all, gentlemen, the discouragements you will meet with will be far fewer than those with which your predecessors had to contend, while the pleasant side of your lives will be far pleasanter than was theirs. in fact, i think your lives have in many respects fallen in pleasanter places than have ours. discipline and order protect you to a large extent from quackery and idiocy. the fads of the day disappear before the appearance of the flag and the sound of the drum. so-called christian science finds no place in your curriculum, and it will be long, i trust, before the army chaplain tinctures the military hospital with sectarian therapeutics or an emanuel church cult. if by entering the army one may escape disgusting influences of this character, then it may become such a refuge that it shall thereby be made both inviting and invincible. it is pleasing to those of us who co-operated in the movement, to have the assurances of the surgeon general that the establishment of the medical reserve corps has been of actual benefit to the regular army medical department. while the military rank to which its members found themselves suddenly elevated was not so lofty as to cause any attacks of vertigo, none having been up to the present day reported, it at least gives us satisfaction to realize that help may thus be afforded from private life, and that a closer rapport has been effected. and now it is well nigh as difficult a task to appropriately conclude these remarks as to begin them. men come and go; a few leave imprints of their footsteps; the vast majority make no impression that lingers. "some when they die, die all; their mouldering clay is but an emblem of their memories; the space quite closes up through which they passed." fain would i believe that many of you would make enduring records. yet each can do his best, and i doubt not each will do it. you have so much to encourage you, so comparatively little to hamper or hold back. glorious is your work, glorious may be your fulfillment of it. we have lived in a goodly time; you will enjoy one still more goodly. with scientific progress, whose like the world has never known, and with an altruism which makes the world constantly better, you will be able to do things never done by your predecessors. "'tis coming up the steeps of time, and this old world is growing brighter! we may not see its dawn sublime, yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter! our dust may slumber underground when it awakens the world in wonder; but we have felt it gathering 'round! we have heard its voice of distant thunder. 'tis coming! yes, 'tis coming! "'tis coming now, that glorious time foretold by seers and sung in story, for which, when thinking was a crime, souls leaped to heaven from scaffolds gory! they passed. but lo! the work they wrought! now the crowned hopes of centuries blossom, the lightning of their living thought is flashing through us, brain and bosom; 'tis coming! yes, 'tis coming." xi the evolution of the surgeon from the barber if one attempt to scan the field of the history of medicine, to take note of all the fallacies and superstitions which have befogged men's minds, and brought about what _now_ seem to be the most absurd and revolting views and practices of times gone by, and if one search deliberately for that which is of curious nature, or calculated to serve as a riddle difficult of solution, he will scarcely in the tomes which he may consult find anything stranger than the close connection, nay, even the identity maintained for centuries, between the trade of the barber and the craft of the surgeon. even after having studied history and the various laws passed at different times, he will still miss the predominant yet concealed reason for this state of affairs. this will be found to be, in the words of paget, the "maintenance of vested rights as if they were better than the promotion of knowledge." he will wonder also why women were licensed to practise surgery in the fourteenth century and prevented in the nineteenth, or why specialties were legally recognized in the sixteenth century only to lose their dignity and identity a little later. in thus attempting to consider the relations which have existed in time past between barbers and surgeons i must ask you to remember that there was a time when bleeding was deemed necessary for the cure of almost all ailments, and that after the church had condemned the shedding of blood by any of her officials it was most natural to turn for assistance to the barbers, who were supposed to be dexterous with sharp instruments, with basins and with towels. thus it happened that when the barbers found themselves permitted to perform this sole act they naturally ventured further and practised many parts of minor surgery independently of the ecclesiastics. moreover there persist to-day in europe many relics of the old customs, and the barber surgeon is still a common figure in germany, and particularly in russia, where the really educated surgeons are still too few for a vast and widespread population. it must be remembered also that the church gradually imbued men's minds with a horror of a dead body, and of the profanation which followed having anything to do with it, and surrounded the study of anatomy with every possible obstacle and obloquy; even to such an extent that to be known as having dissected a human body was to be exposed to indignity, assault and even death. it was, therefore only intense yearning for knowledge, on the part of earnest men, which then permitted anatomical instruction to be given or encouraged. during the middle ages the greatest medical school in the world was situated at salernum (or salerno), but a short distance from naples. this is not the place in which to discuss its history, although it became famous above almost every other institution of learning of any kind, and though, by one of the freaks of history, even the site of the buildings is now lost and no one seems to know just where they stood. in his time, namely, in , the emperor frederick ii was the great patron of this college; his decrees concerning the regulation of the study and practice of medicine deserve attention to-day. a part of one of his enactments reads as follows: "since it is possible for a man to understand medical science only if he has previously learned something of logic, we ordain that no one shall be permitted to study medicine until he has given his attention to logic for three years. after these three years he may if he wishes proceed to the study of medicine." and again: "no surgeon shall be allowed to practise until he has submitted certificates in writing, of the teachers of the faculty of medicine, that he has spent at least one year in that part of medical science which gives skill in the practice of surgery, that in the college he has diligently and especially studied the anatomy of the human body, and is also thoroughly experienced in the way in which operations are successfully performed and healing afterwards brought about." when first we hear of medical men in great britain they were commonly spoken of as _leeches_, as among the danes and saxons; later the clergy introduced books from rome, and almost every monastery had some brother possessed of more or less knowledge of the medicine of the day. the college of salernum later gave great impetus to the study of medicine, even before the days of william the conqueror, which was strengthened by the influence emanating from naples, and particularly from montpellier. for centuries the catholic clergy were almost the only persons with sufficient education to study and practise physic; which profession became in time so lucrative that many of the monks abandoned their monasteries, neglecting their religious duties, and applied themselves to the study of medicine. to such an extent was this true that in the council of tours forbade monks staying out of the monastery for more than two months at a time, or teaching or practising physic. in taking this action the council only repeated what had been ordained by decree of henry iii in , and by the second council of lateran in . no restraint was at first placed upon the secular clergy, and many of the bishops and other church dignitaries gained both money and honor by acting as physicians to kings and princesses. next to the clergy the jews possessed the largest share of learning. their nomadic life permitted an intercourse with the different nations of the world, which was denied to most others, and there were many who studied medicine and practised, not only among those of their own race but amongst moors and christians alike. the priests became extremely jealous of jewish physicians and of lay surgeons, and endeavored to secure through rome a formal excommunication of all who committed themselves to the care of a jew, while by canon law no jew might give medicine to a christian. but so celebrated were the jewish physicians, and so superior to everything else was men's desire for life and strength, that even the power of rome could not exclude them from practice. still less could the clergy restrain the lay surgeons from the performance of their craft, and though it would appear that at first, in england, the priests were not disposed to separate surgery from medicine, the pope became jealous of so much interruption to the duties of the clergy and looked upon the manual part of surgery as detracting from clerical dignity. accordingly were made numerous attempts to debar priests from the performance of surgical operations. in the ecclesiastics were prohibited by pope innocent iii from undertaking any operation involving the shedding of blood, while by boniface viii at the close of the thirteenth century, and clement v, about the beginning of the fourteenth century, surgery was formally separated from physic and the priests positively forbidden to practice it. it is to the church then that we owe this absolute abandonment of surgery to an illiterate and grasping laity. for some time, however, the priests kept their hold upon surgery by instructing their servants, the barbers, who were employed to shave their own priestly beards, in the performance of minor operations. it was these men, who were in some degree qualified by the instruction of the clergy, who first assumed the title of barber surgeons, and who gradually formed a great fraternity. in france it was in the reign of louis xiv that the hairdressers were formally separated from the barber-surgeons, the latter being incorporated as a distinct medical body. in london it was in that the company of barbers were practically divided into two sections, containing respectively those who practiced shaving, and those who practiced surgery. in the surgeons were finally incorporated by themselves as the guild of surgeons and took their place as one of the liveried companies of the city of london. similar separation occurred in the original great guild of weavers, who divided into the woollen drapers and linen armourers, the latter afterwards becoming the wealthy and powerful company of merchant tailors. to trace the history of the london company of barbers a little more fully, it was first formed in and incorporated in by a charter. in one of the statutes of henry viii it was enacted that: "no person using any shaving or barbery in london shall occult (i. e. practise) any surgery, letting of blood or other matter except only drawing of teeth." in parliament passed an act allowing the united companies of barbers and surgeons each to have yearly the bodies of four criminals for dissection. in the barbers and surgeons were united in one company; the former being restricted from all operations except tooth drawing, and the latter having to abandon shaving and hair dressing. it is interesting also to note that in oxford, for instance, the barbers, surgeons, waferers and makers of "singing bread" were all of the same fellowship, from to ; when, at last, the cappers, or knitters of caps, were united to them, in , the barbers and waferers abrogated their charter and took one in the name of the city, until , when they received a charter from the university. the london guild of surgeons appears to have been first a mere fraternity which had incorporated itself, and to have originated from an association of the military barber surgeons who had been trained in the hundred years war with france, to . its membership, however, was select, and when the physicians declined an alliance with it, it amalgamated with the barber companies in . the united company of barbers and surgeons was peculiar in that strangers and those who were not free men were admitted, while the journeymen of the craft formed a subordinate body within the company. in the surgeons separated from the barbers and formed a surgeon's company which rapidly acquired influence. by a foolish blunder it forfeited its charter in but was subsequently incorporated by george iii, in , as the royal college of surgeons in london; a body which has since maintained its identity, grown tremendously in wealth and strength, and having become one of the licensing bodies of england, has acquired the finest collection of books and specimens in the world and has numbered the brightest intellects which the english surgical profession has contained. in dublin the barber surgeons were incorporated as a guild by charter granted by henry vi, in . in they were amalgamated with the independent surgeons, and by queen elizabeth with the barber surgeons and wig-makers. this confraternity was dissolved in and the college of surgeons founded immediately afterwards. in edinburgh the barbers and surgeons were united in , to be separated at about the same time as elsewhere in great britain. during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries on the continent medicine and surgery were abruptly separated, and the latter was almost entirely in the hands of the barbers. for hundreds of years the dissection of corpses and the embalming of those who could afford it, were in the hands of first the butchers and later of the barbers. the greatest contempt was everywhere shown for one who attempted any surgery. if for instance a nobleman while being bled by a barber received the slightest harm the poor barber was heavily fined, while, should the gentleman die, the culprit was given into the hands of the dead man's relatives to be dealt with as they desired. throughout the monasteries and whenever the influence of the church was felt it was forbidden to the monks, who had the monopoly of knowledge, to perform any surgical operation since the church abhorred the shedding of blood.[ ] [ ] i leave it to defenders of the faith to reconcile this abhorrence with the persecutions of heretics and the tortures of the inquisition permitted by the same church. for hundreds of years the monks were not allowed to wear a beard; this necessitated the employment of tonsors ("tonsorial-artists" they call themselves to-day) to whom was left also the performance of anything that partook of the nature of an operation, such as bleeding, bandaging, etc. this calling, was however, recognized as a most inferior one, and the barbers, like the bathkeeper, the shepherd and the hangman, were not considered of good repute. consequently, such an one was not eligible for membership in any other guilds or fraternities. in the emperor wenzel was rescued from prison, in prague, by the daughter of a bathkeeper; in gratitude he made her his mistress, and declared both barbers and bathkeepers to be respectable; but having lost his position his decree had no weight, and not until , in augsburg, were they really made eligible to the guilds. at this time their most dignified labor was the sharpening of instruments. in leopold i. decreed their profession to be an art, and gave it a position above that of the apothecary so that in their most dignified occupation they were elevated to the making of ointments and plasters. as surgery has for the profession of barber surgery to thank the existence upon man of a beard, so the european continent may thank the crusaders of the eleventh century for having necessitated the existence of the bathkeeper, because of the leprosy which they brought home from the east. during the crusades, as is well known, there were founded numerous orders having for their original purpose the care and protection of pilgrims and injured soldiers. the three most celebrated orders were the knights of st. john, the knights templar and the teutonic order. were this the place it would be most interesting to go into a history of these religio-medico-military orders, and show how from most devout purposes and humble origin they grew into despotic and tyrannical associations of great power, which it finally took all the force of church and state to suppress. as the then humble and enthusiastic members of these orders returned from the holy land they established hospitals for the care of lepers, who became very numerous in europe. for instance it is stated that in france, in , there were two thousand hospitals for this purpose, while the king louis the great founded, in , a special hospital for those made blind by egyptian ophthalmia. it is well known also that during the middle ages there was the greatest neglect of the ordinary canons of cleanliness both among the upper and lower classes. the number of hospitals and cloisters dedicated to the lepers being insufficient, bath houses were built and bathkeepers were engaged in order, so far as possible, to prevent the spread of leprosy. at this time the bathkeeper was permitted to bathe and cup, later also to bleed, although the bleeding was required to be done in the bathkeepers' own house, since he was not usually permitted to enter a patient's house. as bathing became less necessary for purposes already mentioned the bathkeeper took to imitating the barber, though much later, and not until about in some countries, were they permitted to do this publicly, and only after having passed the examinations to which the barber was also subjected. in prussia they were only allowed to treat wounds and chronic diseases, and so it came about that by the beginning of the eighteenth century a really conscientious and efficient barber surgeon was supposed to have served an apprenticeship in large hospitals, to have witnessed the work of noted surgeons and to have served in the army or navy. he was also supposed to be something of a linguist and to know a little botany; particularly was he expected to be conversant with anatomy, although there was a sad lack of cadavers--which was atoned for by the use of carcasses of animals, for the main part swine. eckardt, writing at this time of the sixteen different virtues of a barber, enumerated, first of all, fear of god; then that he should be careful, prudent, temperate, and ready to use both hands with equal dexterity; he claimed that "arrogance seems most prevalent among barbers, as a common saying would imply 'barbers are proud animals.'" he expressed his surprise also at the envy and malice between bathkeepers and barbers, and advised them both to consult physicians and other masters. the customs of the time must be blamed for this lamentable condition of affairs. the boy who was destined to become a barber was apprenticed at a time when he had scarcely learned to write. if he could write legibly and read a little latin no one dared refuse him. he learned to shave and went from house to house for this purpose, spending the little time remaining in sharpening knives, spreading plasters, picking lint, taking care of children, doing all menial duties, and using the same light as the housemaid because it would have been disrespectful to his master's wife to use any other. after years of this work he was gradually taken to visit patients and then was taught how to bleed, cup, apply leeches, extract teeth and clysters. his master knowing nothing of anatomy could give him no instruction, though by the laws of apprenticeship he was bound to do so. before concluding this apprenticeship he was supposed to pass an examination, which his master's laziness usually permitted him to escape. he then presented the master with some silver instruments and was dismissed with an injunction to be thankful that such a miserable specimen of god's creatures had ever been taught to shave a beard or spread a plaster. he now became a journeyman, still living at the house of his master, and was not allowed to marry; after a while he received a paltry sum as wages, got his dinners free and began to dabble on his own account. study was out of the question; these men could not understand what little they did read and served the community mainly as bearers of tales. after some years of activity as journeyman they could become masters by applying to the authorities, presenting certificates, and passing an examination before the physicians of the district. prussia was the first country to appreciate the necessity of regulating medical practice, and the barbers and bathkeepers were placed under the control of the medical college founded, in , by prince frederick william. in this institution attained its greatest activity, having a subordinate school in each province. in king frederick william issued a famous edict which did much to regulate medical affairs throughout the kingdom, and directed among other things that barbers and bathkeepers should "lead a religious, temperate, retired and sober life, in order to be at their best whenever their services were required." when their business was not sufficiently good they assumed other cares, as, for instance, one man was surgeon, municipal judge and post-master all at once. they were extremely envious of each other and often dabbled in medicine without permission. it was not until that the bathkeepers were permitted to rank in prussia with the barbers, and were allowed to use more than four basins, the bathkeepers' guild being incorporated with that of the barber. there being no temptation to enter these ranks it is not strange that so late even as good surgeons were rare in germany; not one in fifty of the barbers really knowing the first principles of the work they were supposed to perform. it came to such a pass that surgeons were compelled to shave and perform other duties of the hairdresser, for no surgeon, however skilled, was allowed to practice as such, unless he was the proprietor of a head-shaving and bathing establishment, with assistants and apprentices, and belonged to the barbers' guild, or unless he was favored by royal exemption. it was the general lament in germany, all through the th century, that german surgeons were educated in barber shops. even by the middle of that century the practice of surgery was not considered an honorable business, and those who practiced it were not permitted to carry a sword, neither was a surgeon admitted into society nor tolerated among physicians; moreover when unsuccessful he was bitterly and relentlessly pursued. under existing conditions the reichstag either could or would do nothing to alleviate the distressing condition. the physician boasted of his education and treated the surgeon and his craft with disdain, holding that surgery sustained the same relation to medicine that geometry does to higher mathematics and physics. all this time, however, while the physician contented himself with disdaining surgeons he made no attempt to elevate the craft nor to himself study and adorn it. even by the beginning of the nineteenth century there were scarcely any physicians in europe who could diagnose a surgical case, while dentistry they claimed called for no more skill than that sufficient for tooth extraction. it was even claimed that so long as the people generally were neglectful of their teeth the physician, or even the surgeon, should be ashamed to concern himself with dentistry. von siebold, in his day, deplored the position of the surgeon; his large military experience had shown him the difficulties with which he had to contend before he could enter society, while his ambitions and high motives were scorned. even the peasantry were bitterly opposed to all operations. so intense were their feelings that he repeatedly removed his patients to other towns before performing operations. nevertheless it was true that there were the best of reasons for lack of confidence in any barber who dropped his razor for the purpose of treating a fracture, a hernia or an obstetric case. the state required a barber surgeon to call in a physician in all complicated surgical cases. in such a case the physician demanded the control of the case and reserved to himself the right to judge of what was required. he would not even consider a surgeon who had obtained the doctorate as his equal. such consultations resulted in little but quarrels and disagreeable scenes. if a village contained no physician the surgeon treated also internal diseases, though he was not allowed to use strong medicines. every district had its special surgeon who, alone, had charge of several villages where he had the right to keep journeymen and apprentices and to do shaving and cupping. in the prussian capital city only twenty german and six french surgeons were allowed to practice in , besides the court and private surgeons. until every german surgeon carried on a medico-legal business which was later separated from his surgery. in there were three classes of surgeons; from the lower one might be promoted to a higher after an examination. in austria, in , there were doctors of surgery who were required to show a general knowledge of medicine and who had the same rights as the physicians; there were also medical surgeons who could practice under restrictions, and bathkeepers for minor surgery. after the year barbers and bathkeepers were both spoken of in austria as surgeons; this was to break up the disputes between them. according to an official feebill holding good in prussia in , the highest fee that could be charged for an operation was for lithotomy in adults, the maximum limit being about m. ($ ), while the majority of operations ranged from m. to m. ($ . to $ . expressed in u. s. money). of course this was at a time when the value of money was much greater than now. as already made plain, it was the church which by its decrees brought about the separation of surgery from medicine, a condition not existing during the palmy days of greece and rome. even the university of paris at one time refused to admit a student who had not foresworn the study of surgery, while the denouncement of anatomy and surgery alike was promulgated by both papal bulls and clerical decrees. while many of the physicians considered surgery too burdensome a study, and many others had a severe prejudice against it, the principal cause operating to keep them apart was probably the fact that for surgeons there was absolutely no social position. in mederer was made professor of surgery in freiburg, in breisgau; he delivered his opening address on the wisdom and necessity of combining medicine and surgery. as a result he was persecuted by the public, insulted by students, abused by surgeons and constantly threatened with personal assault. he maintained his position, however, and fought against the prejudice. twenty-two years later, when he left freiburg, he referred in his last lecture to his early experience. by this time public opinion had been so changed that the students serenaded him and humbly apologized for what their predecessors had done. mederer could then see the success of his efforts in that the constitution of france contained a clause combining medicine and surgery, and the royal sanitary commissioners of vienna had unanimously resolved in favor of such union. the movement begun by mederer was continued by men like richter, von siebold, loder and others. in , or over a hundred years ago, the electoral academy of erfurt offered a prize for the best essay on the subject "is it necessary and possible to combine medicine and surgery theoretically as well as practically?" fourteen papers were submitted, of which twelve were in favor of union. nevertheless the academy awarded the prize to the only writer who had opposed such union. his reasons for such opposition were most puerile, as were all the arguments subsequently advanced against it. nevertheless a great step was taken in advance, when the guilds and fraternities of barbers and bathkeepers were abolished, in which good work vienna, in , took the lead. it was then declared that shaving was the business of the hair-dresser, and that barber surgeons must attend lectures in surgery and anatomy. bavaria followed in , and four years later, in prussia, no one was permitted to practice surgery without having studied medicine. the rules of regulating the respective positions and duties between physicians and surgeons were annulled in , and by the barber license was no longer essential for the practice of surgery, the privileges of the barber, as such, being abolished, while for his trade only a common license was needed. xii the story of the discovery of the circulation a study of the times and labors of william harvey[ ] [ ] address delivered at the annual commencement of the medical department of the university of chicago, (rush medical college), june , . history in general is but a record of the succession of great events or epochs which have moulded the world's affairs. that which is of the greatest import in the life of the individual may count for little in the lives of his contemporaries, and yet it must be said that in the events of to-day there has occurred a great epoch in the life of each of you, presumably the most important as yet in your personal records. this day is then in your personal histories one of the greatest importance. it is desirable, therefore, that your lives be so moulded and influenced by it that you may long hence look back to it and recall its significance. i do not know what advice i can give you which will be more fruitful of results, than that among your studies you include that of the lives of the great men who have moulded destiny and made the world's history. their lives were modified by little things, as have been and will be yours, and yet out of small matters grew for them and for us some of the most far reaching effects. select the really great men of whom you best happen to know and analyze their characters that you may appreciate how they have become great; while if they have, as all great men have, traits of smallness, study even wherein they are small, and how such faults may be avoided. history runs as does a fairly steady stream, save that every now and then some event abruptly diverts its course or influences its current. it has been so, for instance, with the history of medicine. for the first sixteen hundred years of the christian era men engaged in the crude practices of our profession, utterly ignorant of the course of the blood, as well as of its purposes. then appeared upon the scene a man who did his own thinking, who was willing to free himself from the shackles of the past, to observe nature and to reason therefrom. in this way came suddenly upon the world, as it were, an appreciation of the circulation of the blood, than which perhaps no event in medical history has been of greater importance or reflected more credit upon its demonstrator. it is my purpose, then, to-day to try to tell you, in a semipopular way, how william harvey came to make this great discovery, as well as to give you some idea of the difficulties under which he worked, and of the men and influences that surrounded him, believing that rather than spend a half hour in humorous platitudes which may provoke a smile, but which are quickly forgotten, it is much better to try to implant something which may linger a while in your memories, and sufficiently impress you with the value of observation and inductive reasoning, since if you become thus fully impressed you will be spared in the future many sad errors of speech and even of thought. before telling the story of harvey's life and work let us study for a few moments the general condition of affairs in europe, in order that we may better understand the men whose influence surrounded him, as well as the spirit of the times and men's habits of thought. among the monarchs reigning in various parts of europe during harvey's time there were, for instance, in that part of the empire of the west which was called germany, rudolph ii, matthias and ferdinand. in sweden reigned king sigismund, charles ix, the great monarch gustavus adolphus, and queen christine. in prussia the throne had been occupied by joachim, george william and frederick william, as electors, this being before the days of the prussian kings. in russia the czars boris godunow, michael theodore and alexis had occupied the throne. france had but recently passed through the inhuman butchery of the massacre of st. bartholomew and its accompanying persecution of the huguenots, under charles ix, who expressed the hope that not a single huguenot would be left alive to reproach him with the deed, but who died himself soon after the massacre, which is said to have caused him bitter remorse. charles had been succeeded by his brother henry iii, a weak, fickle and vicious monarch, whose weakness caused him to be embroiled in civil strife, which was only concluded by his own assassination at the hands of a dominican friar. then came henry iv, he of navarre, afterwards surnamed the great, who fought the famous battle of ivry in , and who reigned for twenty-one years, the greatest and most popular sovereign who ever occupied the throne of france. notwithstanding his noble qualities he did not succeed in preserving his court from many of the contaminations of the age, and in his reign it is said that no less than , french gentlemen were killed in duels, chiefly arising out of quarrels about women. he was succeeded by louis xiii, who was still on the throne when harvey died. in harvey's own country james i was occupying the throne when harvey appeared upon the scene. he was that royal pedant whom the duke of sully pronounced "the wisest fool in europe." after his death, and when charles i ascended the throne during his twenty-fifth year, in , harvey was preparing to publish his great work. it was this charles i who retained as a favorite the worthless scoundrel buckingham, whose misconduct in spain prevented the proposed marriage of the king with the spanish infanta and brought about the civil war. it was because of the cost of this war, and of the king's disputes with parliament regarding the matter, that england was rent between the conflicts of the cavaliers and the roundheads, two of the consequences of this intestine strife being the execution of the earl of strafford and of archbishop laud. the troubles thus engendered finally cost the life of the king himself, who was beheaded in . harvey even lived to see the first half of the short tenure of office of cromwell as the great protector, and was perhaps fortunate in dying before began the reign of that odious profligate charles ii. it is worth while to enquire for a moment what was doing on this side of the ocean at this period which we have now under consideration. in virginia was settled by the english, in new york, by the dutch, in massachusetts and, three years later, new hampshire, by the english puritans; in new jersey, by the dutch, in delaware by swedes and finns, in maine, by the english, in maryland, by irish catholics, in connecticut, by english puritans. thus it will be seen that the active period of harvey's life was synchronous with the beginnings of our colonial activities. very little knowledge of what was going on in the then world of science was brought to this country at this period of its existence, however, and it was many years before in these colonies there were any exhibitions of scientific interest save in extremely scattered and sporadic cases. among harvey's literary associates were a number of celebrated english poets, for example,--marlowe ( ), spenser ( ), beaumont ( ), shakespeare ( ), herbert ( ), ben jonson ( ), massinger ( ). lord bacon died a year or two after the appearance of harvey's book, while baron napier, the inventor of logarithms, had passed away. his contemporaries in italy, where he had studied, included tasso ( ) and galileo ( ). rubens had died in , michael angelo in and titian in . in france, calvin, the practical murderer of servetus, had passed away in , beza died in , descartes in , pascal in and gassendi in . portugal had produced but one great figure in the th century, namely camoens, who died in . in spain, loyola, the ascetic and fanatic founder of the jesuits, had joined the great majority in ; but cervantes did not die until , lope de vega in , velasquez in and calderon in . in germany some great figures had but recently disappeared. paracelsus died in , copernicus in , luther in , hans holbein in , and melancthon in . mercator, who introduced a new method of cartography, died in , tycho brahe in , keppler in , van dyck in , grotius, the great scholar, in , rembrandt in and spinoza in . in philosophy, scepticism was the prevailing doctrine in the time of harvey. it had been founded a hundred years previously by montaigne, and continued by charron, the chaplain of queen margaret of navarre, who died in , and who declared all religion to be opposed to human reason;--a remarkable attitude for a chaplain to assume. opposed to the scepticism of harvey's day was the mystic, cabalistic or supernatural philosophy especially represented by böhme, a peasant shoemaker, uneducated and yet wonderfully gifted. he had been the philosophical colleague of that great meistersinger, hans sachs. later philosophers and thinkers, yet belonging to harvey's time, were pascal, the great jansenist, who discovered the variations of atmospheric pressure at different levels, and malebranche, who figures prominently in the history of philosophy. descartes, who died in , held the pineal gland to be the seat of the soul. he was the discoverer of the laws of refraction of light and furnished the explanation for the rainbow. he attained greatest eminence in mathematics, physics and philosophy, and was one of the inventors of modern algebra. one of his greatest opponents was that noble jew, spinoza, whose colleagues had expelled him from the sanhedrim to the sound of the trombone. the italian dominican campanella, who died in , considered the foundation of knowledge to be supernatural revelation and its perception by the senses. in spite of these views he came before the inquisition on a charge of heresy and of cooperation with the turks, was tortured by the rack, and imprisoned for thirty years. the mystic or cabalistic notions of harvey's day have just been mentioned. under them we may recognize many degenerate products and amalgamations of the real doctrines of paracelsus. the doctrines of the rosicrucians, as well as of zoroaster and the cabala, were revived and made to do strange work. there was, for instance, that sir kenelm digby, who died in , a king's chamberlain, who posed among the english as a so-called rosicrucian. it was he who suggested the famous "_sympathetic powder_," which was to be applied to the weapon by which a wound had been inflicted, after which the _weapon_ was anointed and dressed two or three times a day, while the wound itself was carefully bound up with dressings and left alone for a week. this was perhaps much the better course, but it will show what strange notions prevailed in those days. what it meant to run counter to ecclesiastical policy and theological dogma appears not only in such tragedies as terminated the lives of bruno and many other martyrs to science, but in such facts as these; for instance, when in , just when harvey was preparing to publish his work, some young chemists in paris, seeing the benefit of the experimental method, broke away from aristotle and the canons of theological reasoning, the faculty of theology appealed to the parliament of paris, which latter prohibited all such researches, under the severest penalties. this was the time too when such exhibitions as the following were altogether too frequent;--one quaresimo, of lodi, came out with a ponderous work entitled "a historical, theological and moral explanation of the holy land," in which he devoted great space to the question of the dead sea and the salt pillar supposed to represent lot's wife, dividing a long chapter upon the subject into three parts, dealing with the method and the locality of this transformation and the question of the existence at that time of her saline remains. thus, with his peculiar powers of reasoning, he was able to decide the exact point where the saline change took place, and finally showed that the statue _was still in existence_. lord bacon was also an older contemporary of harvey, having been born in and dying in , shortly after the appearance of harvey's great work. his services to analytic science need no description here, but it is worth while to remember that harvey, like many others, must have come under his influence and have profited by his teachings in logic and analysis. at about the time when harvey made known his discovery bacon was publishing his views of the laws of transmission and reflection of sound. great man as he was, with a keen foresight into the value of the recent inventions of the compass, gun-powder and printing, he nevertheless was himself so narrow, in some respects, that he placed but little value upon the discovery of copernicus. he, however, paved the way for one in some respects still greater, namely isaac newton, who, however, had scarcely attained man's stature when harvey died. how much we owe to the two great bacons of history one cannot indicate in this short résumé. roger bacon ( - ) seems to have been the first great thinker along truly scientific lines. he was more than a mere chemist while, as white says, more than three centuries before francis bacon _advocated_ the experimental method roger bacon had _practised_ it, and in many directions. he did more than anyone else in the middle ages to direct thought into fruitful paths, and only now are we finding out how nearly he reached some of the principal doctrines of modern philosophy and chemistry. most important of all, his methods were even greater than his results, and this at a time when "theological subtilizing" was the only passport to reputation for scholarship. it was avicenna, the arabian, who perhaps first announced substantially the modern theory of geology, accounting for changes in the earth's surface by suggesting a stone-making force, but the presence of fossils in the rocks had been always a thorn in the sides of the theologians. it was leonardo da vinci, that versatile genius in science and art, who, previous to harvey's generation, suggested true notions as to the origin of fossils, while, in harvey's time, bernard palissy, another artist, vehemently contended for their correctness. still, even at harvey's death, neither geology nor paleontology had come anywhere near scientific accuracy. the _academia dei lyncei_, so-called from its seal, which bore the image of a fox, was founded in rome in . in france the academy of science was not founded until , in germany the society of naturalists and physicians in , and the british royal society in . in matters of general interest it may be worth while to say that in architecture the general style of the renaissance was changed for the more substantial barocco, while the more formal and limited style of church music had given away to musical drama, i. e., opera, albeit in very crude form. the first newspaper had appeared at antwerp in , the first german paper being published in frankfort in , and the london weekly news making its first appearance in . tobacco, which had been brought over by raleigh in , had come into quite general use, while coffee, tea and chocolate had gained in public esteem. when coffee was first introduced in england it sold for about $ a pound. the first coffee house appears to have been established in constantinople, in the middle of the th century, while the first coffee house in london was not opened until a century later. the barbers still retained their ascendency, and the bath keepers had scarcely lost their position next to the barbers. it was not until harvey had reached a ripe age that the barbers were required in germany to pass an examination, in which they had to prove not only their knowledge but the legitimacy of their birth, and the fact that they had studied for three years and had worked for three years more as apprentices. anatomy was studied quite generally, sometimes upon human bodies. a dissecting room had been established in dresden in , in which stuffed bears, at that time a great rarity, were preserved with other curiosities. in rolfink, at jena, arranged for public dissection upon the bodies of all executed malefactors, delegates being present thereat from various other institutions. it is worth while to mention that in frankfort, for instance, during the expiration of years, but seven dissections were made, and that these were always accompanied by a celebration which lasted several days. vienna did not possess a skeleton in , and strassburg did not have one until . yet it is of interest to remember that the anatomical plates, like those often published to-day, which are meant to be lifted off in layers, existed even at this period. on the other hand, botanical gardens and chemical laboratories existed in several of the universities,--in strassburg, for instance, in ,--in oxford in . fabricius hildanus, the father of german surgery, or, as he has been sometimes called, the ambroise paré, of germany, was also a contemporary of harvey's. his real name was fabry and he was born in hilden, but he latinized his name into that form usually adopted to-day. scultetus was another famous surgeon of the same period. william gilbert, - , had been the talented physician of queen elizabeth, and was among the first to study the experimental method. with the appearance of his book upon the magnet, in , began the science of electricity and magnetism. he was the first to teach the fact that the earth itself was a great magnet and he distinguished between magnetic and electric reactions. later the great dutch anatomist, ruysch, afforded corroboration of harvey's views by another method, when he invented and practised those beautiful minute injections of the vascular system which made him so famous, and built up that great collection of specimens which peter the great bought for russia at an expense of about $ , . contemporary with harvey also was swammerdam, one of the most versatile men of his time, famous as naturalist, savant, physiologist, linguist and poet. it was during the fifteenth century that astronomy began to assume an importance and degree of accuracy never hitherto known. this was due very largely to the independence of thought and the researches of copernicus, who was born in cremona in , and who studied medicine in krakau and astronomy in vienna. he lived to the age of and was the real father of the heliocentric theory, now known as the copernician system, which he substituted for the previous ptolemaic theory, thus reversing the ancient idea that the sun circled about the earth. copernicus demonstrated the phases of the moon, but his opponents claimed that if this doctrine were true venus would exhibit the same phenomena; to which he replied that it was true, though he knew not what to say to these objections, but that god was good and would in time furnish answer to them. it was galileo's crude telescope which, in harvey's younger day, in , furnished this answer and revealed the phases of venus. to illustrate how the views of copernicus were received we might add here that martin luther paid his compliments to him by declaring that copernicus was a fool who wished to stand astronomy upon its head. copernicus was succeeded by galileo, who was born in in pisa, and died . he may be called the creator of dynamic astronomy and mechanics, as well as one of the most brilliant exponents of experimental and inductive reasoning. he was of noble birth and was, in fact, the torch bearer of physics at the period of the renaissance. he gave up speculation and substituted for it the habit of observation, reaping a large harvest of surprising facts, any one of which might have immortalized him. he not only established the movements of the earth on its own axis as well as around the sun, which copernicus had shown, but he discovered the weight of the atmosphere and first calculated the law of gravity. he and his successors were governed always by that aphorism which is to-day as true as ever: "experience is deceptive and judgment difficult." in when he was before the inquisition, at rome, and when its theologians had examined statements extracted from his letters, they solemnly rendered their decision in these words: "the first proposition that the sun is the centre and does not revolve about the earth is foolish, absurd, false in theology and heretical, because expressly contrary to the holy scripture. the second proposition that the earth is not the centre, but revolves about the sun, is absurd, false in philosophy and, from a theological point of view, at least, opposed to the true faith." this for a pronunciamento from the _infallible_ church! galileo and bruno have by some writers both been made to stand in an unpleasant light because of their recantation or shifting position before the inquisition. bruno was the greatest philosopher and sceptic of the latter part of the th century, and had outlined, withal somewhat vaguely, that which is now known as the nebular hypothesis. he was murdered by the inquisition in , and the views which he enunciated seem to have been buried with him, not to reappear until long after his sad fate had been consummated. he had, for instance, contended for the truths of the copernican doctrine, but it was not until ten years after his martyrdom that galileo proved it with his telescope. that both these great men yielded in some respects to the influences of the inquisition and renounced some of their scientific "heresies" is largely to be excused by the fact that they were both old, broken in health from the sufferings which they had endured, as well as from their disappointments, and that they had been, under these circumstances, handed over to that inquisition which knew no mercy. galileo could well remember the _auto da fê_ in the piazza dei fiore, in rome, the scene of bruno's martyrdom, as well as the tragic end of many another who had dared to have the courage of his convictions. let us, then, not judge him harshly, but be grateful even that the enormous power of the inquisition did not and could not suppress the truth. galileo's discovery of the satellites of jupiter, the rings of saturn, his experiments with the pendulum, his construction of the telescope, as well as of the thermometer, and many other deeds, have stamped him as one of the great figures in the history of progress and science. it is most interesting to note that this contemporary of harvey's, like himself, was given to inductions obtained from experimental studies. another great astronomical light of harvey's time was keppler, who was driven from one place to another by religious fanaticism, until he ended his life in . it was he who formulated the great principle which underlies the motions of the planets, and who gave to the world his so-called "laws," which so materially advanced the science of astronomy. it was he who really discovered that comet which was later given hailey's name, whose periodic return he first foretold. such was the spirit of the times in which harvey lived, and such the influences which surrounded his teachers before him and himself in turn. it makes a long preface to a consideration of what harvey himself accomplished, but it is not without its interest because men and their deeds must be judged largely by their environment. now, to speak more particularly of harvey himself, and what was known of the circulation when he undertook his investigations. the liver had been considered, from time immemorial, as the principal factor in the production and movement of the blood. the ancients supposed that here the veins took their origin and that through them the blood flowed to all parts of the body, returning to its source by an undulating movement or series of alternate waves. the arteries had been supposed to contain only vital spirits, whose great reservoir was the heart, although erasistratus had admitted that in certain cases blood might escape into the arterial channels. later galen showed that the arteries always contained blood, and he knew that blood was poured into the right side of the heart by the great veins, but believed that only a little of it passed from the right ventricle into the lungs, the greater part of it passing through hypothetical pores in the septum and thus into the left ventricle. this opinion, like galen's in other respects, remained unchanged until the middle of the th century. it was also known that valves existed within the veins, and that if an artery were tied on a living animal blood would cease to flow and pulsation be checked below the ligature, while if a vein were tied it shrunk above the ligature and became distended below. three men before harvey's time came very near to discovering the secret that made him famous; in fact, they made such advances on what was already known that history should accord them a distinguished place. one was _columbus_, who was born at cremona in , and died in . he was first a pupil and prosector and then a friend of vesalius, the great anatomist. later he succeeded him at the university of padua and unfortunately, after gaining his position, ungratefully turned upon his old teacher. he was, however, for his day a good anatomist and especially a good osteologist. it was he who first demonstrated experimentally that blood passes through the lungs into the pulmonary veins and that the latter connect with the left ventricle. he thus practically established the fact of the lesser circulation. he suffered, however, as did servetus, from the prevailing notion that spirits and blood were mixed together. from padua columbus went to pisa, and then to rome. he wrote with elegance and correctness of style and even described the vessels which penetrate the bone cells, the ossicles of the ear, the minute anatomy of the teeth, the ventricles of the larynx, as well as those valves which prevent the return of blood from the lungs to the heart. in fact, he narrowly missed the significance of the actual facts of the case, simply failing in his final analysis and assembling of those facts which he had already demonstrated. _cesalpinus_, who lived a little later, came still nearer the mark, having accepted the teachings of columbus regarding the course of the blood through the lungs. he added that the ultimate arterial branches connect with those of the veins, and he taught that blood and vital spirits, from which the ancients could never separate themselves, passed from the arteries into the veins during sleep, as was demonstrated by the swelling of the veins and the diminution of the pulse at that time. a little later came _michael servetus_, who figures principally in history as a theologian and a victim of theologians, since he perished a martyr to calvin's jealousy. he was, in effect, a wisely and widely educated man who did a great deal for science, one of the offences attributed to him being an edition of ptolemy's geography, in which judea was described as a barren and inhospitable land instead of one "flowing with milk and honey." this simple statement of a geographical fact was made a tremendous weapon of offence by calvin, who replied that even if servetus had only quoted from ptolemy and, although there were ample geographical proofs, it nevertheless "unnecessarily inculpated moses and grievously outraged the holy ghost." servetus dared to deny the passage of the blood through the septum of the heart, and contended that that which comes into the right side was distributed to the lung and returned to the left ventricle. he published his views, however, in a religious treatise on errors concerning the trinity, a most unfortunate place in which to inject such an important fact, since it gave his enemies a still greater opportunity to vent and ventilate their spleen. had he been able to leave out that notion of vital spirits, which prevailed with all his predecessors, he might actually have made the great discovery left for harvey to enunciate. i have not been able to refer to original documents in this matter, but it is claimed by some that his description of the circulation was contained in another religious work concerning the restitution of christianity, which was printed in nuremberg in . such was the actual state of knowledge concerning the movements of the blood and the functions of the heart when harvey published his great work. it behooves us now to proceed with a short account of harvey's own life and researches. _william harvey_ was born at folkestone on the first of april, . he was the eldest son of a prosperous merchant who raised a large family and who occupied the highest positions of honor in his own town. the son william was born to his second wife, by whom he had seven sons and two daughters. all of these children were helped to remunerative or honorable positions. they became merchants or politicians or secured prominence in some way, but william was the only one to study medicine. he was sent to the king's school at canterbury, in , and he was admitted at caius, in cambridge, in , where he graduated in arts in . the following year he went to padua, which then had one of the greatest medical schools of the time, and he obtained his medical diploma in , when twenty-four years of age. returning to england he received a doctor's degree at cambridge, and shortly afterward married a daughter of a london physician and entered upon the practice of medicine in london. in the great city his practice as a physician seems to have been from the outset successful, and his knowledge and ability procured him various valuable appointments. he was made a fellow of the college of physicians in . this royal college of physicians was given a grant of incorporation by henry viii in , at the intercession of chambers, linacre and ferdinand victoria, the king's physicians, it being under the patronage of cardinal wolsey. the first meetings were held at linacre's house which he bequeathed to the corporation at his death. until this college was founded practitioners of medicine were licensed to practise by the bishop of london or by the dean of st. paul's. a few years later harvey was appointed physician-extraordinary to king james i, and later yet, after the publication of his great treatise and its dedication to the king, he was made physician-in-ordinary to charles i, whom he attended during the civil wars. it must have been about when harvey first began expounding his views on the circulation of the blood, during lectures which were delivered at the college of physicians, but it was not until thirteen years later, i. e., in , that his great work de motu cordis was published in latin, as was customary among scholars, and at frankfort-on-the-main, since that was then the great center of the book publishing trade. the treatise was dedicated to king charles i, in a manner which to us would seem servile, and yet which was according to a custom followed by nearly all of the scholars of the day, who desired to attract not only the attention of royalty, but, in most instances, their benevolent assistance. it is worth while to quote at this point the first sentence or two of his dedication: "to the most serene and invincible charles, of great britain, france and ireland, king: defender of the faith, most serene king, "the heart of animals is the basis of their life, the principle of the whole, the sun of their microcosm, that upon which all movement depends, from which all strength proceeds. the king in like manner is the basis of his kingdom, the sun of his world, the heart of the commonwealth, whence all power derives, all grace appears. what i have here written of the movements of the heart i am the more emboldened to present to your majesty, according to the custom of the present age, because nearly all things human are done after human examples and many things in the king are after the pattern of the heart." the dedication was followed by a proemium which one may hardly read to-day without emotion. in it he sets forth the mystery that has surrounded the subject of the motion and function of the heart, as well as the attendant difficulties of the subject, speaking of his own early despair that he would ever be able to clear up the subject. he even said that at one time he found the matter so beset with difficulties that he was inclined to agree with fracastorius "that the movements of the heart and their purpose could be comprehended by god alone." only later was this despair dispelled by a suggestion when, as he says: "i began to think whether there might not be a movement in a circle" when thus the truth dawned fully upon him. we shall have to speak later of the opposition provoked by the appearance of this work and its almost general rejection. it is perhaps, however, but just to those who disputed harvey's discoveries to recall that no complete and actual demonstration of the actual circulation was possible at that time, nor for many years after, and until the introduction of the microscope, the common magnifying glass of that day being the only lens in use. it remained for malpighi to demonstrate the blood actually in circulation in the lung of a frog some three or four years after harvey's death, in . but harvey lived long enough to see his views gain general acceptance, and though at first, and as the result of the opposition provoked by his publication, his practice fell off mightily, he later regained his professional position and rose to the highest eminence, being elected in to the presidency of the college of physicians. to this institution he proved a great benefactor, making considerable additions to the building after its destruction in the great fire of and its subsequent restoration. he also left a certain sum of money as a foundation for an annual oration, to be delivered in commemoration of those who had been great benefactors of the college. this oration is still regularly delivered on st. luke's day, i. e., the th of october, and is ordinarily known as the harveian oration. in these orations more or less reference to harvey's work and influence is always made. this great man passed away on the d of june, , within ten months of his eightieth birthday, thus affording a brilliant exception to the list of men who have rendered great service to the world and not lived long enough to see it appreciated. as one reads harvey's own words, the wonder ever grows that it should have remained for him, after the lapse of so many centuries, to not only call attention to what had been said by galen but apparently forgotten by his successors, namely, that "the arteries contained blood and nothing but blood, and, consequently, neither spirits nor air, as may be readily gathered from experiments and reasonings," which he elsewhere furnishes. he furthermore shows how galen demonstrated this by applying two ligatures upon an exposed artery at some distance from each other, and then opening the vessel itself in which nothing but blood could be found. he calls attention also to the result of ligation of one of the large vessels of an extremity, the inevitable result being just what we to-day know it must be, and the procedure terminating with gangrene of the limb. not long before harvey's own publication, fabricius, he of aquapendente, had published a work on respiration, stating that, as the pulsation of the heart and arteries was insufficient for the ventilation and refrigeration of the blood, therefore were the lungs fashioned to surround the heart. harvey showed how the arterial pulse and respiration could not serve the same ends, combating the view generally held, that if the arteries were filled with air, a larger quantity of air penetrating when the pulse is large and full, it must come to pass that if one plunge into a bath of water or of oil when the pulse is strong and full it should forthwith become either smaller or much slower, since the surrounding fluid would render it either difficult or impossible for air to penetrate. he also called attention to the inconsistencies between this view and the arrangement of the prenatal circulation; also to the fact that marine animals, living in the depths of the sea, could under no circumstances take in or emit air by the movements of their arteries and beneath the infinite mass of waters, inasmuch as "to say that they absorb the air that is present in the water and emit their fumes into this medium, were to utter something very like a figment;" furthermore "when the windpipe is divided, air enters and returns through the wound by two opposite movements, but when an artery is divided blood escapes in one continuous stream and no air passes." discussing further the views which he stigmatized as so incongruous and mutually subversive that every one of them is justly brought under suspicion, he reverts again to the statements of galen, calling attention to the fact that from a single divided artery the whole of the blood of the body may be withdrawn in the course of half an hour or less, and to the inevitable consequences of such an act; also that when an artery is opened the blood is emptied with force and in jets, and that the impulse corresponds with that of the heart; again that in an aneurism the pulsation is the same as in other arteries, appealing for corroboration in this matter to the recent statements of riolan, who later became his avowed enemy. harvey also called attention to the fact that while ordinarily there was a seemingly fixed relation between respiration and pulse-rate, this might vary very much under certain circumstances, showing that respiration and circulation were two totally different processes. harvey utilized also the results of his researches in comparative anatomy and physiology, for early in his work he called attention to the fact that every animal which is unfurnished with lungs lacks a right ventricle. in his proemium he then proceeds to ask certain very pertinent questions which can only be briefly summarized in this place. he asks: first, why, inasmuch as the structure of both ventricles is practically identical, it should be imagined that their uses are different, and why, if tricuspid valves are placed at the entrance into the right ventricle and prove obstacles to the return of blood into vena cava, and if similar valves are situated at the commencement of the pulmonary artery, preventing return of blood into the ventricle, then why, when similar valves are found in connection with the other side of the heart, should we deny that they are there for the same purpose of prevention "here the egress" and "there the regurgitation of the blood?" secondly, he asks why, in view of the similarity of these structures, it should be said that things are arranged in the left ventricle for the egress and regress of spirits, and in the right ventricle for those of blood? thirdly, he enquires why, when one notes the resemblance between the passages and vessels connected with the opposite sides of the heart, one should regard one side as destined to a private purpose, namely, that of nourishing the lungs, the other to a more public function? furthermore, he enquires, since the lungs are so near, and in continual movement, and the vessels supplying them of such dimensions, what can be the use of the pulse of the right ventricle, which he had often observed in the course of his experiments? he sums up his inability to accept the explanations previously offered with a phrase which reads rather strangely, even in original latin: "deus bone! quomodo tricuspides impediunt aëris egressum, non sanguinis." i. e., "good god! how should the mitral valves prevent the regurgitation of air and not of blood?" he then takes up the views of those who have believed that the blood oozed through the septum of the heart from the right to the left side by certain secret pores, and to them he replied "by hercules, no such pores can be demonstrated, nor, in fact, do any such exist." again, "besides, if the blood could permeate the substance of the septum, or could be emptied from the ventricles, what use were there for the coronary artery and vein, branches of which proceed to the septum itself, to supply it with nourishment?" further on in the treatise harvey sets forth his motives for writing, stating how greatly unsettled had become his mind in that he did not know what he himself should conclude nor what to believe from others. he says: "i was not surprised that laurentius should have written that the movements of the heart were as perplexing as the flux and reflux of euripus had appeared to aristotle." he apologizes for the crime, as some of his friends considered it, that he should dare to depart from the precepts and opinions of all anatomists. he acknowledged that he took the step all the more willingly, seeing that fabricius, who had accurately and learnedly delineated almost every one of the several parts of animals in a special work, had left the heart entirely untouched. passing more directly to the actual work of the heart, he shows that not only are the ventricles contracted by virtue of the muscular structure of their own walls, but further that those fibers or bands, styled "nerves" by aristotle, that are so conspicuous in the ventricles of larger animals when they contract simultaneously, by an admirable adjustment, help to draw together all the internal surfaces as if with cords, thus expelling the charge of contained blood with force. later on he says that if the pulmonary artery be opened, blood will be seen spurting forth from it, just as when any other artery is punctured, and that the same result follows division of the vessel which in fishes leads from the heart. he furnishes a very happy simile to prove that the pulses of the arteries are due to the impulses of the left ventricle by showing how, when one blows into a glove all of its fingers will be found to have become distended at one and the same time. he quotes aristotle, who made no distinction between veins and arteries, but said that the blood of all animals palpitates within their vessels and by the pulse is sent everywhere simultaneously, all of this depending upon the heart. it is in chapter five of the treatise that he gives, probably for the first time, an accurate published account of just what transpires with one complete cycle of cardiac activity. the passage need not be quoted here, but deserves to be read by everyone interested in the subject, as who should not be? one sentence, however, is worth quotation or, at least, a summary, as follows: "but if the divine galen will here allow, as in other places he does, that all the arteries of the body arise from the great artery, and that this takes its origin from the heart; that all the vessels naturally contain and carry blood; that the three semilunar valves situated at the orifice of the aorta prevent the return of the blood into the heart, and that they were here for some important purpose,--i do not see how he can deny that the great artery is the very vessel to carry the blood, when it has attained its highest triumph of perfection, from the heart for distribution to all parts of the body." his chapter six deals with the course by which blood is carried from the right into the left ventricle, and here one must admire the large number of experimental demonstrations which harvey had undertaken upon all classes of animals, for he speaks even of that which occurs in small insects, whose circulation he had studied so far as he could with the simple lens. furthermore he described the prenatal circulation, omitting practically nothing of that which is taught to-day, showing that in embryos, while the lungs are yet in a state of inaction, both ventricles of the heart are employed, as if they were but one, for the transmission of blood. in concluding this chapter he again states briefly the course of the blood, and promises to show, first, that this may be so and, then, to prove that it really is so. his chapter seven is devoted to showing how the blood passes through the substance of the lungs from the right ventricle and then on into the pulmonary vein and left ventricle. he alludes to the multitude of doubters as belonging, as the poet had said, to that race of men who, when they will, assent full readily, and when they will not, by no matter of means; who, when their assent is wanted, fear, and when it is not, fear not to give it. a little later on he says: "as there are some who admit nothing unless upon authority, let them learn that the truth i am contending for can be confirmed from galen's own words, namely, that not only may the blood be transmitted from the pulmonary artery into the pulmonary veins and then into the left ventricle of the heart, but that this is effected by the ceaseless pulsation of the heart and the movements of the lungs in breathing." he then shows how galen explained the uses of the valves and the necessity for their existence, as well as the universal mutual anastomosis of the arteries with the veins, and that the heart is incessantly receiving and expelling blood by and from its ventricles, for which purpose it is furnished with four sets of valves, two for escape and two for inlet and their regulation. harvey then noted a well-known clinical fact, that the more frequent or forcible the pulsations, the more speedily might the body be deprived of its blood during hemorrhage, and that it thus happens that in fainting fits and the like, when the heart beats more languidly, hemorrhages are diminished and arrested. the balance of the book is practically devoted to further demonstration and corroboration of statements already made. a study of this work of harvey's illustrates how much respect even he and his contemporaries still showed for the authority of galen. it shows still further how nearly galen came to the actual truth concerning the circulation. had the latter not adopted too many of the notions of his predecessors concerning the nature of the soul (anima) and the spirits (pneuma) of man, he might himself have anticipated harvey by a thousand years, and by such announcement of a great truth have set forward physiology by an equal period. independent and original as harvey showed himself, he seems to have failed to get away from the notion of the vapors and spiritual nature of the blood which he had inherited from the writings of galen and many others. nevertheless he also alludes to this same blood as alimentive and nutritive. we must not forget, however, that this was years before priestly's discovery of oxygen and that harvey had, like others, no notion of the actual purpose of the lungs, believing that the purification and revivification of the blood was the office of the heart itself. along with its other intrinsic merits harvey's book possesses a clear and logical arrangement, the author first disposing of the errors of antiquity, describing next the behavior of the heart in the living animal, showing its automatic pumplike structure, its alternate contractions and the other phenomena already alluded to, thus piling up facts one upon another in a manner which proved quite irresistible. the only thing that he missed was the ultimate connection between the veins and the arteries, i. e., the capillaries, which it remained for malpighi to discover with the then new and novel microscope, which he did about , showing the movement of the blood cells in the small vessels, and confirming the reality of that ultimate communication which had been held to exist. malpighi discovered the blood corpuscles in , but it remained for leeuwenhoek, of delft, in , by using an improved instrument to demonstrate to all observers the actual movements of the circulating blood in the living animal. one historian has said that with harvey's overthrow of the old teachings regarding the importance of the liver and of the spirits in the heart "fell the four fundamental humors and qualities" while daremberg exclaims: "as in one of the days of the creation, chaos disappeared and light was separated from darkness." it remains now only to briefly consider how harvey's great discovery was received. to quote the words of one writer: "so much care and circumspection in search for truth, so much modesty and firmness in its demonstration, so much clearness and method in the development of his ideas, should have prepossessed everyone in favor of the theory of harvey; on the contrary, it caused a general stupefaction in the medical world and gave rise to great opposition." during the quarter of a century which elapsed after harvey's announcement there probably was not an anatomist nor physiologist of any prominence who did not take active part in the controversy engendered by it; even the philosopher descartes was one of the first adherents of the doctrine of the circulation, which he corroborated by experiments of his own. two years after the appearance of harvey's book appeared an attack, composed in fourteen days by one primerose, a man of scotch descent, born and educated in france, but practising at hull, in which he pronounced the impossibilities of surpassing the ancients or improving on the work of riolan, who already had written in opposition to harvey, and who was the only one to whom the latter vouchsafed an answer. it was riolan who procured a decree of the faculty of paris prohibiting the teaching of harvey's doctrine. it was this same riolan who combated with equal violence and obstinacy the other great discovery of the age, namely,--the circulation of the lymph. one of the earliest and fiercest adversaries of harvey's theory was plempius, of louvaine, who, however, gave way to the force of argument and who finally publicly and voluntarily passed over to the ranks of its defenders in , becoming one of harvey's most enthusiastic advocates. harvey's conduct through the controversy was always of the most dignified character; in fact, he rarely ventured to reply in any way to his adversaries, believing in the ultimate triumph of the truths which he had enunciated. his only noteworthy reply was one addressed to riolan, then professor in the paris faculty and one of the greatest anatomists of his age, to whose opinion great value was always attached. even in debating or arguing against him, harvey always spoke of him with great deference, calling him repeatedly the prince of science. riolan was, however, never converted, though whether he held to his previous position from obstinacy, from excess of respect for the ancients, or from envy and jealousy of his contemporary, is not known. another peculiar spectacle was afforded by one parisunus, who died in , a physician in venice, who, like harvey, had been a pupil of fabricius of aquapendente, who had been stigmatized by riolan as an ignoramus in anatomy, but who joined with others in declaring that he had seen the heart beat when perfectly bloodless, and that no beating of the heart and no sounds were to be heard as harvey had affirmed. with the later and more minute studies into the structure and function of the heart we are not here concerned. the endeavor has been rather to place before you the sentiments, the knowledge and the habits of thought of the men of harvey's time, with the briefest possible epitome of what they knew, or rather of how little they knew, to account for this later slavish adherence to authority by unwillingness to reason independently, or to observe natural phenomena intelligently, still less to experiment with them. it is, then, rather the brief history of an epochal discovery than an effort to trace out its far-reaching consequences that i have endeavored to give. here must close an account which perhaps has been to you tedious, and yet which is really brief, of harvey's life and labors. he lived to see his views generally accepted and to enjoy his own triumph, a pleasure not attained by many great inventors or discoverers. lessons of great importance may be gathered from a more careful study of this great historical epoch, but they must be left to your own powers of reasoning rather than to what i may add here. i commend it to you as a fertile source of inspiration, and a line of research worthy of both admiration and imitation. few men have rendered greater service to the world by the shedding of blood than did harvey, in his innocent and wonderful studies of its natural movement. perhaps it might be said of him that he was the first man to show that "blood will tell." what he made it tell has been thus briefly told to you. i know not how i may better close this account than by quoting the concluding words of his famous book, and especially repeating the lines which he has quoted from some latin author whom i have not been able to identify. his paragraph and his quotation are as follows: "finally, if any use or benefit to this department of the republic of letters should accrue from my labors, it will, perhaps, be allowed that i have not lived idly, and, as the old man in the comedy says: 'for never yet hath anyone attained to such perfection, but that time, and place, and use, have brought addition to his knowledge; or made correction, or admonished him, that he was ignorant of much which he had thought he knew; or led him to reject what he had once esteemed of highest price.'" xiii history of anaesthesia and the introduction of anaesthetics in surgery[ ] [ ] commemorative address delivered at the medical department, university of buffalo, october , . in commemoration of the semi-centennial of the introduction of ether as an anaesthetic agent fifty years ago to-day--that is to say, on the th of october, ,--there occurred an event which marks as distinct a step in human progress as almost any that could be named by the erudite historian. i refer to the first demonstration of the possibility of alleviating pain during surgical operations. had this been the date of a terrible battle, on land or sea, with mutual destruction of thousands of human beings, the date itself would have been signalized in literature and would have been impressed upon the memory of every schoolboy, while the names of the great military murderers who commanded the opposing armies would have been emblasoned upon monuments and the pages of history. but this event was merely the conquest of pain and the alleviation of human suffering, and no one who has ever served his race by contributing to either of these results has been remembered beyond his own generation or outside the circle of his immediate influence. such is the irony of fate. the world erects imposing monuments or builds tombs, like that of napoleon, to the memory of those who have been the greatest destroyers of their race; and so cæsar, hannibal, genghis khan, richard the lion-hearted, gustavus vasa, napoleon and hundreds of other great military murderers have received vastly more attention, because of their race-destroying propensities and abilities, than if they had ever fulfilled fate in any other capacity. but the men like sir spencer wells, who has added his , years of life to the total of human longevity, or like sir joseph lister, who has shown our profession how to conquer that arch enemy of time past, surgical sepsis, or like morton, who first publicly demonstrated how to bring on a safe and temporary condition of insensibility to pain, are men more worthy in our eyes of lasting fame, and much greater heroes of their times, and of all time,--yet are practically unknown to the world at large, to whom they have ministered in such an unmistakable and superior way. this much, then, by way of preface and reason for commemorating in this public way the semi-centennial of this really great event. because the world does scant honor to these men we should be all the more mindful of their services, and all the more insistent upon their public recognition. of all the achievements of the anglo-saxon race, i hold it true that the two greatest and most beneficent were the discovery of ether and the introduction of antiseptic methods,--one of which we owe to an american, the other to a briton. the production of deep sleep and the usual accompanying abolition of pain have been subjects which have ever appeared, in some form, in myth or fable, and to which poets of all times have alluded, usually with poetic license. one of the most popular of these fables connects the famous oracle of apollo, at delphi, whence proceeded mysterious utterances and inchoate sounds, with convulsions, delirium and insensibility upon the part of those who approached it. to what extent there is a basis of fact in this tradition can never be explained, but it is not improbable from what we now know of hypnotic influence. from all time it has been known that many different plants and herbs contained principles which were narcotic, stupefying or intoxicating. these properties have especially been ascribed to the juices of the poppy, the deadly nightshade, henbane, the indian hemp and the mandrágora, which for us now is the true mandrake, whose juice has long been known as possessing soporific influence. ulysses and his companions succumbed to the influence of _nepenthe_; and, nineteen hundred years ago, when crucifixion was a common punishment of malefactors, it was customary to assuage their last hours upon the cross by a draught of vinegar with gall or myrrh, which had real or supposititious narcotic properties. even the prophet amos, seven hundred years before the time of christ, spoke of such a mixture as this as "the wine of the condemned," for he says, in rehearsing the iniquities of israel by which they had incurred the anger of the almighty: "and they lay themselves down upon the clothes laid to pledge by every altar, and they drink the wine of the condemned in the house of their god," (chap. ii, verse ), meaning thereby undoubtedly that these people, in their completely demoralized condition, drank the soporific draught kept for criminals. herodotus mentions a habit of the scythians, who employed a vapor generated from the seed of the hemp for the purpose of producing an intoxication by inhalation. narcotic lotions were also used for bathing the people about to be operated upon. pliny, who perished at the destruction of herculaneum, a. d. , testified to the soporific power of the preparations made from mandrágora upon the faculties of those who drank it. he says: "it is drunk against serpents and before cuttings and puncturings, lest they should be felt." he also describes the indifference to pain produced by drinking a vinous infusion of the seeds of eruca, called by us the rocket, upon criminals about to undergo punishment. dioscorides relates of mandrágora that "some boil down the roots in wine to a third part, and preserve the juice thus procured, and give one cyathus of this to cause the insensibility of those who are about to be cut or cauterized." one of his later commentators also states that wine in which mandrágora roots have been steeped "does bring on sleep and appease pain, so that it is given to those who are to be cut, sawed or burnt in any parts of their body, that they may not perceive pain." apuleius, about a century later than pliny, advised the use of the same preparation. the chinese, in the earlier part of the century, gave patients preparations of hemp, by which they became completely insensible and were operated upon in many ways. this hemp is the cannabis indica which furnishes the _hasheesh_ of the orient and the intoxicating and deliriating _bhang_, about which travelers in the east used to write so much. in barbara, for instance, it was always taken, if possible, by criminals condemned to suffer mutilation or death. according to the testimony of medieval writers, knowledge of these narcotic drugs was practically applied during the last of the crusades, the probability being that the agent principally employed was this same hasheesh. hugo di lucca gave a complete formula for the preparation of the mixture, with which a sponge was to be saturated, dried, and then, when wanted, was to be soaked in warm water, and afterward applied to the nostrils, until he who was to be operated upon had fallen asleep; after which he was aroused with the vapor of vinegar. strangely enough, the numerous means of attaining insensibility, then more or less known to the common people, and especially to criminals and executioners, do not appear to have found favor for use during operations. whether this was due to unpleasant after-effects, or from what reason, we are not informed. only one or two surgical writers beside guy de chauliac ( ) refer in their works to agents for relief of pain, and then almost always to their unpleasant effects, the danger of producing asphyxiation, and the like. ambrose paré wrote that preparations of mandrágora were formerly used to avert pain. in , an english surgeon, bulleyn, affirmed that it was possible to put the patient into an anaesthetic state during the operation of lithotomy, but spoke of it as a "terrible dream." one meisner spoke of a secret remedy used by weiss, about the end of the xvii century, upon augustus ii., king of poland, who produced therewith such perfect insensibility to pain that an amputation of the royal foot was made without suffering, even without royal consent. the advice which the friar gave juliet regarding the distilled liquor which she was to drink, and which should presently throw her into a cold and drowsy humor, although a poetic generality, is shakespeare's recognition of a popular belief. middleton, a tragic writer of shakespeare's day, in his tragedy known as "women beware women," refers in the following terms to anesthesia in surgery: "i'll imitate the pities of old surgeons to this lost limb, who, ere they show their art, cast one asleep; then cut the diseased part." of course, of all the narcotics in use by educated men, opium has been, since its discovery and introduction, the most popular and generally used. surgeons of the last century were accustomed to administer large doses of it shortly before an operation, which, if serious, was rarely performed until the opiate effect was manifested. still, in view of its many unpleasant after-effects, its use was restricted, so far as possible, to extreme cases. baron larrey, noticing the benumbing effect of cold upon wounded soldiers, suggested its introduction for anesthetic purposes, and arnott, of london, systematized the practice, by recommending a freezing mixture of ice and salt to be laid directly upon the part to be cut. other surgeons were accustomed to put their patients into a condition of either alcoholic intoxication or alcoholic stupor. long-continued compression of a part was also practised by some, by which a limb could, as we say, be made to "go to sleep." a few others recommended to produce faintness by excessive bleeding. it was in that the arch-fraud mesmer entered paris and began to initiate people into the mysteries of what he called _animal magnetism_, which was soon named mesmerism, after him. thoroughly degenerate and disreputable as he was, he nevertheless taught people some new truths, which many of them learned to their sorrow, while in the hospitals of france and england severe operations were performed upon patients thrown into a mesmeric trance, and without suffering upon their part. that a scientific study of the mesmeric phenomena has occupied the attention of eminent men in recent years, and that hypnotism is now recognized as an agent often capable of producing insensibility to pain is simply true, as these facts have been turned to the real benefit of man by scientific students rather than by quacks and charlatans. in , sir humphrey davey, being at that time an assistant in the private hospital of dr. beddoes, which was established for treatment of disease by inhalation of gases, and which he called the pneumatic institute, began experimenting with nitrous oxide gas, and noticed its exhilarating and intoxicating effects; also the relief from pain which it afforded in headache and toothache. as the results of his reports, a knowledge of its properties was diffused all over the world, and it was utilized both for amusement and exhibition purposes. davey even wrote as follows of this gas: as nitrous oxide, in its extensive operation, appears capable of destroying physical pain, it may probably be used with advantage during surgical operations in which no great effusion of blood takes place. it is not at all unlikely that colton and wells, to be soon referred to, derived encouragement, if not incentive, from these statements of davey. nevertheless, velpeau, perhaps the greatest french surgeon of his day, wrote in , that "to escape pain in surgical operations is a chimera which we are not permitted to look for in our day." sulphuric ether, as a chemical compound, was known from the xiii century, for reference was made to it by raymond lully. it was first spoken of by the name of ether by godfrey, in the transactions of the london royal society, in , while isaac newton spoke of it as the ethereal spirits of wine. during all of the previous century it was known as a drug, and allusion to its inhalation was made in in a pamphlet, probably by pearson. beddoes, in , stated that "it gives almost immediate relief, both to the oppression and pain in the chest, in cases of pectoral catarrh." in , nysten spoke of inhalation of ether as being common treatment for mitigating pain in colic, and in he described an inhaler for its use. as early as it was often inhaled for experiment or amusement, and so-called "ether frolics" were common in various parts of the country. this was true, particularly for our purpose, of the students of cambridge, and of the common people in georgia in the vicinity of long's home. it probably is for this reason that a host of claimants for the honor of the discovery appeared so soon as the true anesthetic properties of the drug were demonstrated. there probably is every reason to think that, either by accident or design, a condition of greater or less insensibility to pain had been produced between and , by a number of different people, educated and ignorant, but that no one had the originality or the hardihood to push these investigations to the point of determining the real usefulness of ether. this was partly from ignorance, partly from fear, and partly because of the generally accepted impossibility of producing safe insensibility to pain. so, while independent claims sprang up from various sources, made by aspirants for honors in this direction, it is undoubtedly as properly due to morton to credit him with the introduction of this agent as an anesthetic as to credit columbus with the discovery of the new world, in spite of certain evidences that some portions of the american continent had been touched upon by adventurous voyagers before columbus ever saw it. the noun "anesthesia" and the adjective "anesthetic" were suggestions of dr. oliver wendell holmes, who early proposed their use to dr. morton in a letter which is still preserved. he suggests them with becoming modesty, advises dr. morton to consult others before adopting them, but, nevertheless, states that he thinks them apt for that purpose. the word anesthesia, therefore, is just about of the same age as the condition itself, and it, too, deserves commemoration upon this occasion. as one reads the history of anesthesia, which has been written up by a number of different authors, each, for the main part, having some particular object in view, or some particular friend whose claims he wishes especially to advocate, he may find mentioned at least a dozen different names of men who are supposed to have had more or less to do with this eventful discovery. but, for all practical purposes, one may reduce the list of claimants for the honor to four men, each of whose claims i propose to briefly discuss. these men were long, wells, jackson and morton. of these four, two were dentists and two practising physicians, to whom fate seems to have been unkind, as it often is, since three of them at least died a violent or distressing death, while the fourth lived to a ripe old age, harassed at almost every turn by those who sought to decry his reputation or injure his fortunes. crawford w. long was born in danielsville, ga., in . in he graduated from the medical department of the university of pennsylvania. in the part of the country where long settled it was a quite common occurrence to have what were known as "ether frolics" at social gatherings, ether being administered to various persons to the point of exhilaration, which in some instances was practically uncontrollable. long's friends claim that he had often noticed that when the ether effect was pushed to this extent the subjects of the frolic became oblivious to minor injuries, and that these facts, often noticed, suggested to his mind the use of ether in surgical operations. there is good evidence to show that long first administered ether for this purpose on the th of march, , and that on june th he repeated this performance upon the same patient; that in july he amputated a toe for a negro boy, but that the fourth operation was not performed until september of . in a young man, named wilhite, who had helped to put a colored boy to sleep at an ether frolic in , became a student of dr. long's, to whom long related his previous experiences. long had never heard of wilhite's episode, but had only one opportunity, in , to try it, again upon a negro boy. long lived at such a distance from railroad communication ( miles) as to have few advantages, either of practice, observation or access to literature. long made no public mention of his use of ether until , when he published an account of the first use of sulphuric ether by inhalation as an anesthetic in surgical operations, stating that he first read of morton's experiments in an editorial in the _medical examiner_ of december, , and again later; on reading which articles he determined to wait before publishing any account of his own discovery, to see whether anyone else would present a prior claim. no special attention was paid to long's article, as it seemed that he merely desired to place himself on record. there is little, probably no reasonable doubt as to long's priority in the use of ether as an anesthetic, although it is very doubtful if he carried it, at least at first, to its full extent. nevertheless long was an isolated observer, working entirely by himself, having certainly no opportunity and apparently little ambition to announce his discovery, and having no share in the events by which the value of ether was made known to the world. long's strongest advocate was the late dr. marion sims, who made a strong plea for his friend, and yet was not able to successfully establish anything more than has just been stated. as dr. morton's son, dr. w. j. morton, of new york, says, when writing of his father's claim: "men used steam to propel boats before fuller; electricity to convey messages before morse; vaccine virus to avert smallpox before jenner; and ether to annul pain before morton." but these men are not generally credited with their introduction by the world at large and, he argues, neither should long or the other contestants be given the credit due morton himself. in fact, long writes of his own work that the result of his second experiment was such as to make him conclude that ether would only be applicable in cases where its effects could be kept up by constant use; in other words, that the anesthetic state was of such short duration that it was to him most unsatisfactory. sir james paget has summed up the relative claims of our four contestants in an article entitled escape from pain, published in the _nineteenth century_ for december, . he says: "while long waited, and wells turned back, and jackson was thinking, and those to whom they had talked were neither acting nor thinking, morton, the practical man, went to work and worked resolutely. he gave ether successfully in severe surgical operations; he loudly proclaimed his deeds and he compelled mankind to hear him." horace wells was born in hartford, vt., in . in he began to study dentistry in boston, and after completing his studies began to practise in hartford, ct. he was a man of no small ingenuity, and devised many novelties for his work. in december, , he listened to a lecture delivered by dr. colton, who took for his subject nitrous oxide gas, the amusing effects of which he demonstrated to his audience upon a number of persons who visited the platform for that purpose. wells was one of these. wells, moreover, noticed that another young man, who bruised himself while under its influence, said afterward that he had not hurt himself at all. wells then stated to a bystander that he thought that if one took enough of that kind of gas he could have a tooth extracted and not feel it. he at once called upon a neighboring dentist friend and made arrangements to test the anesthetic effects of the gas upon himself the next morning. accordingly colton gave him the gas, and riggs, the friend, extracted the tooth; and wells, returning to consciousness, assured them both that he had not suffered a particle of pain. he began at once to construct an apparatus for its manufacture. dr. marcey, of hartford, then informed wells that while a student at amherst he and others had often inhaled nitrous oxide as well as the vapor of ether, for amusement, and suggested to wells to try ether. after a few trials, however, it was found more difficult to administer, and wells accordingly resolved to adhere to gas alone. this was in , two years after long's obscure experiments, of which, of course, they were ignorant. in , wells visited boston for the purpose of introducing his discovery, and among others called upon his former partner, morton, trying to establish the use of the gas. he soon became discouraged, however, and returned to hartford, resuming his practice. there he continued to use gas for about two years, but failed to secure its introduction into general surgery, owing to prejudice and ignorance on the part of dentists and physicians alike. wells's claims have been advocated by many of his fellow-citizens, and in bushnell park, in hartford, stands a monument erected by the city and the state, dedicated to horace wells, "who discovered anesthesia, november, ." c. t. jackson was born in plymouth, mass., in . he graduated in the harvard medical school in , after which he went abroad, where he remained for several years, made the acquaintance of the most distinguished men, experimented in general science, electricity and magnetism and even devised a telegraphic apparatus, similar to that which morse patented a year later. returning, in , he opened in boston a laboratory for instruction in analytical chemistry, the first of its kind in the country. he also made quite a reputation as a geologist and mineralogist and received official appointments from maine, rhode island, new hampshire and other states. in he discovered and opened up copper and iron mines in the lake superior district. in and he was much aroused by morton's experiments with sulphuric ether, and claimed even that he had suggested the use of ether to morton, claiming also that he had himself been relieved of an acute distress by inhalation of ether vapor, and that it was from reflection on the phenomena presented in his own case that the possibility of its use for relief of pain during surgical operations suggested itself to him. this led to a triangular conflict for the priority of discovery between wells, jackson and morton, each claiming the honor for himself. wells health soon gave way. he went abroad and got recognition from the french institute and the paris academy of sciences, which did not, however, endorse his claim as discoverer nor accept nitrous oxide as an anesthetic. wells returned to find that morton was on the tide of popular favor, the public having endorsed ether as the only reliable anesthetic. his mind became unbalanced, and in a fit of temporary aberration he ended his own life in a prison cell, in new york city in . wells being out of the way, jackson became morton's most violent opponent, and the two indulged in a most bitter fight and unseemly discussion. a few years later, jackson, who, as remarked, had an extensive acquaintance abroad, visited europe and presented his claim to the credit of the discovery of ether before various individuals and learned bodies, and so well did he work upon the french institute as to be recognized as the discoverer of modern anesthesia. a select committee of the house of representatives, to whom in congress referred the matter, announced the following conclusions: "first, that dr. horace wells did not make any discovery of the anesthetic properties of the vapor of ether which he himself considered reliable and which he thought proper to give to the world. that his experiments were confined to nitrous oxide, but did not show it to be an efficient and reliable anesthetic agent.... "second, that dr. charles t. jackson does not appear at any time to have made any discovery in regard to ether which was not in print in great britain some years before. * * * * * "fifth, that the whole agency of dr. jackson in the matter appears to consist entirely in his having made certain suggestions to aid dr. morton to make the discovery." in , jackson's mind gave way, and after seven years of confinement in an asylum he died in , at the age of , having been the recipient of many honors from foreign potentates and learned societies. william t. g. morton was born in charleston, mass., in . after a disastrous experience in business he was sent to baltimore in and began the study of dentistry. in he entered the dental office of horace wells as student and assistant, becoming a partner in . in partnership was dissolved, wells removing to hartford, as before stated. morton, ambitious for a medical degree, entered his name as a student in the office of charles t. jackson, in , and the same year matriculated in the harvard medical school, though he never graduated. having learned through wells of the latter's successful use of nitrous oxide gas, but not knowing how to make it, he sought the advice of dr. jackson, who informed him that its preparation entailed considerable difficulty, and inquired for what purpose he wanted it. on morton's replying that he wished to use it to make patients insensible to pain, jackson suggested the use of sulphuric ether, as marcey had suggested it to wells two years previously, saying that it would produce the same effect and did not require any apparatus. jackson also told morton of the ether frolics common at cambridge among the students. that same evening, september , , morton administered ether to a patient and extracted a tooth for him without pain. the next day he visited the office of a patent lawyer, for the purpose of securing a patent upon the new discovery. this lawyer ascertained that jackson had been intimately connected with its suggestion, and came to the conclusion that a patent could not safely issue to either one independently of the other. but jackson being a member of the state medical society, against whose ethical code it is to patent discoveries that pertain to the welfare of patients, and fearing the censure of his colleagues, agreed at once to assign his right over to morton, receiving in return a per cent. commission upon all that the latter made out of it. morton, as a dentist, having no more compunction then than dentists have now upon the securement of a patent,--in other words, being actuated by no fine ethical scruples,--secured the patent, and then called upon dr. j. mason warren, one of the surgeons in the massachusetts general hospital. warren promised his coöperation and appointed the th of october, , for the first public trial. upon this occasion the clinic room was filled with visitors and students, when morton placed the young man under the influence of his "letheon," as he called it then; after which warren removed a tumor from his neck. the trial was most successful. another took place on the following day, and on november th an amputation and an excision of the jaw were made, both patients being under the influence of letheon and oblivious to pain. at this time the nature of the anesthetic agent was kept a secret, the vapor of ether being disguised by aromatics, so as not to be recognized by anyone present. true to the highest traditions of their craft, the staff of the massachusetts general hospital now met and declined to make further use of a drug whose composition was thus kept secret. it was then that morton revealed the exact nature of it as sulphuric ether, disguised with aromatic oils. in a report made by the commissioner of patents, it was set forth that: "for many years it had been known that the vapor of sulphuric ether, when freely inhaled, would intoxicate as does alcohol when taken into the stomach, but that the former was much more temporary in its effects. but notwithstanding the records of its effects to this extent, which were familiar to so many, no surgeon had ever attempted to substitute it for the palliatives in common use previous to surgical operations. that, in view of these and other considerations, a patent had been granted for the discovery." in an english patent was obtained. morton soon began the attempt to sell office rights, as do the dentists of to-day, while the medical profession was then, as ever, antagonistic to patents, holding them to be subversive of general good. his patent was soon opposed and then generally infringed upon. litigation followed without end, and the government stultified itself by refusing to recognize the validity of the patent issued by itself. and so, without any compensation to the discoverer, ether soon came into general use in this country as abroad. while receiving many congratulations from friends and humanitarians, morton's success aroused the jealousy of some of his professional brethren, among them one dr. flagg, who commenced a terrible onslaught upon the new application of ether and its promoter. by his machinations a meeting of boston dentists was called and a committee of twelve appointed to make a formal protest against anesthesia. this committee published a manifesto in the _boston daily advertiser_, in which all sorts of untoward effects and unpleasant results were attributed to the new anesthetic. this proclamation was spread broadcast, and did morton, for the time, very much harm. equally obstreperous was dr. westcott, connected with the dental college in baltimore. he made fun of morton's "sucking bottles," as his inhalers were dubbed; and in various of the medical and secular journals of the day, bitter, often foolish and absurd, attacks were made. the editors of the _new orleans medical and surgical journal_ said: "that the leading surgeons of boston could be captivated by such an invention as this, heralded to the world under such auspices and upon such evidences of utility and safety as are presented by dr. bigelow, excites our amazement. why, mesmerism, which is repudiated by the savants of boston, has done a thousand times greater wonders, and without any of the dangers here threatened. what shall we see next?" these and similar statements created a very strong prejudice against morton, who, in december, , sent to washington, to a nephew of dr. warren, to endeavor to urge upon the government the advantages of employing ether in the army during the mexican war, then in progress. the chief of the bureau of medicine and surgery reported that the article might be of some service for use in large hospitals, but did not think it expedient for the department to incur any expense by introducing it into the general service; while the acting surgeon-general believed that the highly volatile character of the substance itself made it ill-adapted to the rough usage it would necessarily encounter upon the field of battle, and accordingly declined to recommend its use. in january of , morton demonstrated at the infirmary in washington, before a congressional committee and others, the anesthetic effect of ether, which he continued through a dangerous and protracted surgical operation. this was the result of a challenge to compare the effects of nitrous oxide and those of ether, the advocates of the former not putting in an appearance. the balance of morton's life seems to have been spent in continued jangles. the government, having repudiated its own patent, was repeatedly besought by memorials and through the influence of members of congress to bestow some testimonial upon or make some money return to morton for his discovery. several times he came near a realization of his hopes in this respect, when the action of some of his enemies or the termination of a congressional session, or some other accident, would doom him again to disappointment. the pages of evidence that were printed, the various reports issued through or by government officers, the memorials addressed from various individuals and societies, if all printed together, would make a large volume; but all of these were of no avail. morton spent all his means, as he spent his energies and time, in futile endeavor to get pecuniary recognition of his discovery, but was doomed to disappointment. he seemed alike a victim of unfortunate circumstances and of treachery and animosity upon the part of his opponents. especially did the fight wage warm between him and his friends and jackson. plots to ruin his business were repeatedly hatched and his life was made miserable in many ways. mere temporary sops to wounded vanity and impaired fortune were the honorary degrees and the testimonials that came to him from various institutions of learning and foreign societies. in both morton and jackson received from the french academy prizes valued at , francs each. finally, morton fell into a state of nervous prostration, suffered from anxiety and insomnia, and in a fit of temporary aberration exposed himself in central park, new york, became unconscious, and was taken to st. luke's hospital, dying just as he reached the institution, on the th of july, . in mount auburn cemetery, in boston, there stands a beautiful monument to william t. g. morton, bearing this inscription: "inventor and revealer of anesthetic inhalation, before whom in all time surgery was agony; by whom pain in surgery was averted and annulled; since whom science has control of pain." again, in the public garden in boston there was erected, in , a beautiful monument to the honor of the discoverer of ether, upon whom at that time they could not decide. upon the front are these words: "to commemorate that the inhaling of ether causes insensibility to pain, first proven to the world at the massachusetts general hospital, in boston, october, a. d. ." upon the right side are the words: "'neither shall there be any more pain.'--revelations." upon the left: "'this also cometh forth from the lord of hosts, which is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working.'--isaiah." and upon the other: "in gratitude for the relief of human suffering by the inhaling of ether, a citizen of boston has erected this monument, a. d. . the gift of thomas lee." summing up, then, the claims of our four contestants in the light of a collected history of the merits of each, it would appear that wells first made public use of nitrous oxide gas for limited purposes, but failed to introduce it into general professional use. that long, in an isolated rural practice, a few times used ether, with which he produced probably only partial insensibility to pain, and that he had apparently discontinued its use before learning of morton's researches. that jackson made no claim to the use of the agent on his own part, but simply of having suggested it to morton. and, finally, that morton quickly accepted the suggestion, made careful and scientific use thereof, but especially, and above all other things, first _demonstrated_ to the world at large the capability and the safety of this agent as an absolute, reliable and efficient anesthetic. so, though morton permitted his cupidity to run away with finer ethical considerations, and attached a higher pecuniary than humanitarian value to sulphuric ether, he, nevertheless, must be generally credited with having, to use the modern expression, "promoted" its introduction, and having shown to the world at large what an inestimably valuable therapeutic agent had been added to our resources for the control of pain. the synthetic compound known as chloroform was discovered independently by three different observers between and . these were respectively guthrie, of sackett's harbor, n. y.; soubeiran, of france, and liebig, of germany. the honor of introducing it to the profession as an anesthetic for surgical purposes is universally accorded to james y. simpson, then of edinburgh. yet claim was at one time advanced in favor of surgeon-major furnell, of the madras army medical corps, who in the summer preceding the announcement of simpson's brilliant discovery experimented with what is known as chloric ether, which is not an ether at all, but a solution of chloroform in alcohol. it is said that he found that it would produce the same results as sulphuric ether, with less unpleasant sensations, and suggested its use to coote, a well-known london surgeon. however, such claims as those made in favor of furnell are no more entitled to recognition than are those of wells or long in the matter of the introduction of ether to the public; for although individual observations were favorable to the compound, it never came to public notice on this surmise. sir james y. simpson was born in , took the degree of doctor of medicine in and advanced rapidly in his professional career until, in january, , he was appointed one of her majesty's physicians in scotland. having already obtained a large reputation, particularly in midwifery and gynecology, he directed his special attention toward the use of anesthetics in childbirth, and he had quickly recognized the value of sulphuric ether when introduced the previous year. he sought, however, for a substitute of equal power, having less disagreeable odor and unpleasant after effect. upon inquiry of his friend waldie, master of apothecaries hall of liverpool, if he knew of a substance likely to be of service in this direction, waldie, familiar with the composition of chloric ether, suggested its active principle chloroform; with which simpson experimented, and, upon the th of november, , established its anesthetic properties. these he first made known to the medico-chirurgical society of edinburgh in a paper read november th. three days later a public test was to have been made at the royal infirmary, but simpson, who was to administer the chloroform, being unavoidably detained, the operation was done as heretofore without an anesthetic, and this patient died during the operation. you can readily see that had this occurred under chloroform it would have been ascribed to the new drug, which would then and there have received its death blow. as it was, the first public trial took place two days later and the test was most successful. one would think that such a boon as simpson had here offered to the world would have been gratefully--not to say greedily--accepted by all. simpson's position was such as to give the new anesthetic every advantage that his already great reputation could attach to it, and it became at once the agent in common use in midwifery practice. but the scotch clergy of his day still possessed altogether too much of the old fanatic spirit of the church of the middle ages. one is never allowed to forget, in scanning the history of medicine, how bitterly the church has opposed, until recently, every advance in our science and our art. it was in a. d. , for instance, that the son of one of the venetian doges was married, in venice, to a sister of the emperor of the eastern roman empire. at the marriage feast the princess produced a silver fork and gold spoon, table novelties which excited both amusing and angry comment. but the venetian aristocracy took up with this new table fad, and forks and spoons as substitutes for fingers soon became the fashion. but the puissant church disapproved most strongly even of this arrangement, for priests went so far as to say, "to use forks was to deliberately insult the kind providence which had given to man fingers on each hand." it was this same spirit that led the scotch clergy to attack simpson most vehemently and denounce him from their pulpits as one who violated the moral law, for they said: "is it not ordained in scripture, 'in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children?' and yet this man would introduce a substance calculated to mitigate this sorrow." we of to-day can scarcely imagine the rancor with which these attacks were made for many months. finally, however, these fanatic defenders of the faith were routed by a quotation from the same scriptures in which they claimed to find their authority; for simpson, most adroitly turning upon them with their own weapons, called their attention to the first chapter of genesis, in which an account of eve's creation appears, and reminded them that when eve was formed from the rib of adam, the lord "caused a deep sleep to fall upon" him. so weak was their cause that with this single quotation their opposition subsided and within a week or two the entire scotch clergy was silenced. sir james simpson received from his own government that which was never accorded to morton: that is, due recognition of the great service he had rendered humanity. he died in , and upon his bust, which stands in westminster abbey, are the following words: "to whose genius and beneficence the world owes the blessings derived from the use of chloroform for the relief of suffering." it is scarcely necessary that i delay you now with an account of all of the other ethereal anesthetic agents which have from time to time been advocated since the memorable days to which i have devoted most of my time to-night. two only are at present ever thought of--namely, bichloride of methylene and bromide of ethyl!--and these are used by only a few, though each has its advantages. it is well known that nearly all of the ethers have more or less of anesthetic property, coupled with many dangers and disadvantages. sulphuric ether and chloroform hold the boards to-day as against any and all of their competitors. nitrous oxide gas, as already mentioned, was known to and used by wells, in hartford. with the advent of ether this gas fell at once into disuse, to be revived some fifteen years after the death of wells, mainly through the use of dr. g. q. colton. since this time its use has been quite universal, although confined for the main part to the offices of dentists. its great advantages are ease of administration and rapidity of recovery, making it especially useful for their purposes, while the difficulties attendant upon prolonged anesthesia by it makes it less useful for the surgeon. i will spend no further time upon it nor upon the subject save to do justice to modern anesthesia by a very different method and by means of a very different drug, which is to-day in so common use that we almost forget to mention the man to whom we owe it. i allude to _cocaine_ and its discoverer, koller. cocaine is now such a universally recognized local anesthetic that there is the best of reason for referring to it here--the more so because it affords another opportunity to do honor to a discoverer, who has rendered a most important service to not only our profession, but to the world in general. this principal active constituent of cocoa leaves was discovered about by niemann, and called by him cocaine. it is an alkaloid which combines with various acids in the formation of salts. it has the quality of benumbing raw and mucous surfaces, for which purpose it was applied first in by schroff, and in by moreno. in , van aurap hinted that this property might some day be utilized. karl koller logically concluded from what was known about it that this anesthetic property could be taken advantage of for work about the eye, and made a series of experiments upon the lower animals, by which he established its efficiency and made a brilliant discovery. he reported his experiments to the congress of german oculists, at heidelberg, in . news of this was transmitted with great rapidity, and within a few weeks the substance was used all over the world. its use spread rapidly to other branches of surgery, and cocaine local anesthesia became quickly an accomplished fact. more time was required to point out its disagreeable possibilities, its toxic properties and the like, but it now has an assured and most important place among anesthetic agents, and has been of the greatest use to probably per cent. of the civilized world. to koller is entirely due the credit of establishing its remarkable properties. * * * * * transcriber's notes obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected, but the variations in spelling, punctuation, accents and hyphenation remain as in the original. chapter ix the paragraph originally read: "this recognition of our profession was accorded much more unstintingly nearly two thousand years ago, at a time when it was much less deserved, when cicero wrote (_de natura deorum_) "_homines ad inibus dando._" (men are never more godlike than when giving health to mankind)." the missing line in the latin quotation has been restored. italics are represented thus _italic_. bulfinch's mythology the age of fable the age of chivalry legends of charlemagne by thomas bulfinch complete in one volume [editor's note: the etext contains only the age of fable] publishers' preface no new edition of bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete without some notice of the american scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "the age of fable" has come to be ranked with older books like "pilgrim's progress," "gulliver's travels," "the arabian nights," "robinson crusoe," and five or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be called really complete. many readers of the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds since those early years. yet to the majority of this great circle of readers and students the name bulfinch in itself has no significance. thomas bulfinch was a native of boston, mass., where he was born in . his boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college in the boston schools. he finished his scholastic training at harvard college, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his home city. for a long time later in life he was employed as an accountant in the boston merchants' bank. his leisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. the plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the author's preface. "age of fable," first edition, ; "the age of chivalry," ; "the boy inventor," ; "legends of charlemagne, or romance of the middle ages," ; "poetry of the age of fable," ; "oregon and eldorado, or romance of the rivers," . in this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "the age of fable," "the age of chivalry," and "legends of charlemagne" are included. scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out in more complete detail. the section on northern mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "nibelungen lied," together with a summary of wagner's version of the legend in his series of music-dramas. under the head of "hero myths of the british race" have been included outlines of the stories of beowulf, cuchulain, hereward the wake, and robin hood. of the verse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been added from literature which has appeared since bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally supervised the new edition. finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. all the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of each has been given. thus what was a mere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected with "the age of fable." acknowledgments are due the writings of dr. oliver huckel for information on the point of wagner's rendering of the nibelungen legend, and m. i. ebbutt's authoritative volume on "hero myths and legends of the british race," from which much of the information concerning the british heroes has been obtained author's preface if no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then mythology has no claim to the appellation. but if that which tends to make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. for mythology is the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness. without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our own language cannot be understood and appreciated. when byron calls rome "the niobe of nations," or says of venice, "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. milton abounds in similar allusions. the short poem "comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "on the morning of the nativity" half as many. through "paradise lost" they are scattered profusely. this is one reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy milton. but were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found "musical as is apollo's lute." our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets, from spenser to longfellow, will show how general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology. the prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant and suggestive illustration. one can hardly take up a number of the "edinburgh" or "quarterly review" without meeting with instances. in macaulay's article on milton there are twenty such. but how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through the medium of the languages of greece and rome? to devote study to a species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age like this. the time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. but may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations? we reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. let any one who doubts it read the first page of the "aeneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred of juno," the "decree of the parcae," the "judgment of paris," and the "honors of ganymede," without this knowledge. shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or by a reference to the classical dictionary? we reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it. moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? the story of ceyx and halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (smith's) classical dictionary; and so of others. our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. we have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of education. the index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a classical dictionary for the parlor. most of the classical legends in "stories of gods and heroes" are derived from ovid and virgil. they are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive reading. neither are they in verse, as well for other reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. the attempt has been made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form. the northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from mallet's "northern antiquities." these chapters, with those on oriental and egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in the same volume with the classical fables. the poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer several valuable purposes. they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to find occasion for. such stories and parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given. but such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the english reader need feel no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of english literature, of either sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in polite conversation. in the "stories of gods and heroes" the compiler has endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning to the english reader, by presenting the stories of pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. in "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern europe. it is believed that this presentation of a literature which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it may afford. the tales, though not to be trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. the italian poets, dante and ariosto, the english, spenser, scott, and tennyson, and our own longfellow and lowell, are examples of this. these legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in arthur, launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the greek and roman mythology. and if every well-educated young person is expected to know the story of the golden fleece, why is the quest of the sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? or if an allusion to the shield of achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one to excalibar, the famous sword of arthur?-- "of arthur, who, to upper light restored, with that terrific sword, which yet he brandishes for future war, shall lift his country's fame above the polar star." [footnote: wordsworth] it is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. we are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. the associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations afford to the american traveller when he visits england, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned localities. the legends of charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the subject. in an age when intellectual darkness enveloped western europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in italy. of these, pulci (born in ), boiardo ( ), and ariosto ( ) took for their subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. these fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with immortality. it may safely be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most cherished creations of human genius. in "stories of gods and heroes," "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and conversation. the "legends of charlemagne" is intended to carry out the same design. like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. it claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the productions of the great poets of italy. some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young person. in reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations of fabulists. the siren of ulysses is the prototype of the siren of orlando, and the character of circe reappears in alcina. the fountains of love and hatred may be traced to the story of cupid and psyche; and similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of tristram and isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream." there are many other instances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance. the sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the italian poets named above; next, the "romans de chevalerie" of the comte de tressan; lastly, certain german collections of popular tales. some chapters have been borrowed from leigh hunt's translations from the italian poets. it seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete. thomas bulfinch. contents stories of gods and heroes i. introduction ii. prometheus and pandora iii. apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe--cephalus and procris iv. juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon --latona and the rustics v. phaeton vi. midas--baucis and philemon vii. proserpine--glaucus and scylla viii. pygmalion--dryope--venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus ix. ceyx and halcyone x. vertumnus and pomona--iphis and anaxarete xi. cupid and psyche xii. cadmus--the myrmidons xiii. nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander xiv. minerva and arachne--niobe xv. the graeae and gorgons--perseus and medusa--atlas--andromeda xvi. monsters: giants--sphinx--pegasus and chimaera--centaurs --griffin--pygmies xvii. the golden fleece--medea xviii. meleager and atalanta xix. hercules--hebe and ganymede xx. theseus and daedalus--castor and pollux--festivals and games xxi. bacchus and ariadne xxii. the rural deities--the dryads and erisichthon --rhoecus--water deities--camenae--winds xxiii. achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope xxiv. orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus --thamyris--marsyas--melampus--musaeus xxv. arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho xxvi. endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea xxvii. the trojan war xxviii. the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra xxix. adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--the cyclopes --circe--sirens--scylla and charybdis--calypso xxx. the phaeacians--fate of the suitors xxxi. adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus xxxii. the infernal regions--the sibyl xxxiii. aeneas in italy--camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus --mezentius--turnus xxxiv. pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles xxxv. origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses --poets of mythology xxxvi. monsters (modern)--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander xxxvii. eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha --the grand lama--prester john xxxviii. northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior xxxix. thor's visit to jotunheim xl. the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--skalds--iceland --teutonic mythology--the nibelungen lied --wagner's nibelungen ring xli. the druids--iona glossary stories of gods and heroes chapter i introduction the religions of ancient greece and rome are extinct. the so- called divinities of olympus have not a single worshipper among living men. they belong now not to the department of theology, but to those of literature and taste. there they still hold their place, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closely connected with the finest productions of poetry and art, both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion. we propose to tell the stories relating to them which have come down to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. our readers may thus at the same time be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created, and put in possession of information indispensable to every one who would read with intelligence the elegant literature of his own day. in order to understand these stories, it will be necessary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe which prevailed among the greeks--the people from whom the romans, and other nations through them, received their science and religion. the greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine, the only seas with which they were acquainted. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans, dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars, also, except those forming the wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "comus": "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east" the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter, as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the "odyssey" will show how homer conceived of olympus: "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shmes with purest day. there the inhabitants divine rejoice forever"--cowper. the robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were woven by minerva and the graces and everything of a more solid nature was formed of the various metals. vulcan was architect, smith, armorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in olympus. he built of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved from place to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. he also shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of the sea. he was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. he even endowed with intelligence the golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself. jupiter, or jove (zeus [footnote: the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself a beginning. saturn (cronos) was his father, and rhea (ops) his mother. saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. there is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros) issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself" --shakspeare. ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost." he says the heathens seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man. "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome, (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps,) had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his children. [footnote: this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity cronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera) was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in "paradise lost," book i.: "... from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him: venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas, athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang forth from his head completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus: "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest,'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes) was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. he found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete. the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. [footnote: from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says: "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus), the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidence over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpsichore of choral dance and song, erato of love poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia of comedy. the graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant arts. they were three in number. their names were euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. spenser describes the office of the graces thus: "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the complements of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high, to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three--clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied public justice. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology: saturn was an ancient italian deity. it was attempted to identify him with the grecian god cronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus, [footnote: there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea.] the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus, the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is the latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as their protector through life. on their birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. a modern poet thus alludes to some of the roman gods: "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid, in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." --macaulay, "prophecy of capys." n.b.--it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes are exceptions, and to be pronounced as english words. in the index at the close of the volume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excite the liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. the ancient pagans, not having the information on the subject which we derive from the pages of scripture, had their own way of telling the story, which is as follows: before earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore one aspect, to which we give the name of chaos--a confused and shapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of things. earth, sea, and air were all mixed up together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and the air was not transparent. god and nature at last interposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water took the lowest place, and buoyed up the earth. here some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices in arranging and disposing the earth. he appointed rivers and bays their places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. the air being cleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of the sea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land. but a nobler animal was wanted, and man was made. it is not known whether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether in the earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked still some heavenly seeds. prometheus took some of this earth, and kneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. he gave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turn their faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his to heaven, and gazes on the stars. prometheus was one of the titans, a gigantic race, who inhabited the earth before the creation of man. to him and his brother epimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providing him and all other animals with the faculties necessary for their preservation. epimetheus undertook to do this, and prometheus was to overlook his work, when it was done. epimetheus accordingly proceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various gifts of courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to a third, etc. but when man came to be provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals, epimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he had nothing left to bestow upon him. in his perplexity he resorted to his brother prometheus, who, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this gift man was more than a match for all other animals. it enabled him to make weapons wherewith to subdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm his dwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; and finally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means of trade and commerce. woman was not yet made. the story (absurd enough!) is that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music, etc. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,--such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,--and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more probable than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. then succeeded the silver age, inferior to the golden, but better than that of brass. jupiter shortened the spring, and divided the year into seasons. then, first, men had to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and houses became necessary. caves were the first dwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven of twigs. crops would no longer grow without planting. the farmer was obliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough. next came the brazen age, more savage of temper, and readier to the strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. the hardest and worst was the iron age. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. [footnote: the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo--the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the "messiah" of pope, this idea occurs: "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's "hymn on the nativity," stanzas xiv. and xv.] jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea, sea without shore. here and there an individual remained on a projecting hilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting-place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion, and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge--he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv. of "paradise lost": "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of japhet brought by hermes, she insnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets. he is represented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in their behalf when jove was incensed against them, and who taught them civilization and the arts. but as, in so doing, he transgressed the will of jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of the ruler of gods and men. jupiter had him chained to a rock on mount caucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewed as fast as devoured. this state of torment might have been brought to an end at any time by prometheus, if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involved the stability of jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into favor. but that he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines: "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise; what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy in the endurance and repulse of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." byron also employs the same allusion, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte": "or, like the thief of fire from heaven, wilt thou withstand the shock? and share with him--the unforgiven-- his vulture and his rock?" chapter iii apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe cephalus and procris the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows--weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere represents the god after this victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his "childe harold," iv., : "... the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you." so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face, became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown; i will decorate with you my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. that apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his province, may. the poet armstrong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it: "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame: "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's "adonais" alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers: "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed, and whose wings rain contagion: how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. what will not love discover! it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. next morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed, that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "o hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth." he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "o pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the "sylph's ball," speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover: "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss,) through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the "lusiad" occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love: "... here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakspeare's play of the "midsummer night's dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly loved. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery: but alas! what advantage to disclose it now! she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. moore, in his "legendary ballads," has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus: "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iv juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon--latona and the rustics juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without exciting suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name-- it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said, 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow- ford), rambled on through scythia, and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of the heifer, except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs: "so did he feel who pulled the bough aside, that we might look into a forest wide, telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph--poor pan--how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain. full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication--they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths? learn that i am supplanted in heaven--my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom i have so much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form--she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster-parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says: "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear," etc. and prometheus, in j. r. lowell's poem, says: "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north-star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithesome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole-star, called also the cynosure. milton says: "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes" the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north he calls it also the "star of arcady," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in "comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says: "... some gentle taper! though a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of arcady, or tyrian cynosure." diana and actaeon thus in two instances we have seen juno's severity to her rivals; now let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of her privacy. it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains: "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do?--go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned,--not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's,--and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in shelley's poem "adonais" is the following allusion to the story of actaeon: "'midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men: companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as, usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads, or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied on the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty, when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his "don juan": "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" chapter v phaeton phaeton was the son of apollo and the nymph clymene. one day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son." phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,--but such as sisters' ought to be. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "o light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father,--if you permit me to use that name,--give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "this only request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day. not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face--i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist,--the oath is sworn and must be kept,--but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth, gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the day-star, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [footnote: see proverbial expressions] and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self- command, and knows not what to do,--whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks: tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus, and meander; babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and cayster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter: "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. o, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire" [footnote: see proverbial expressions] his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream. milman, in his poem of "samor," makes the following allusion to phaeton's story: "as when the palsied universe aghast lay mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th' empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o'er phaeton untimely dead" in the beautiful lines of walter savage landor, descriptive of the sea-shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says: "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot wheel stands midway on the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive ear, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." --gebir, book i. chapter vi midas--baucis and philemon bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster and foster-father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of a reward, whatever he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become gold in his hand. he took up a stone; it changed to gold. he touched a sod; it did the same. he took an apple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold- creating power passed into them, and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain god, was chosen umpire. the senior took his seat, and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or head-dress. but his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every time a breeze passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the "wife of bath's tale," makes midas's queen the betrayer of the secret: "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, which, in after times it was said, whoever should untie should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time jupiter, in, human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves, as weary travellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot. he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. while all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet- smelling herbs. upon it she set some of chaste minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd still shows the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints, and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson. the following may serve as a specimen: "they scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist. and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more. the number made the motion slower; the flier, though't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see't; but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side: the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares, warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn; the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." chapter vii proserpine--glaucus and scylla when jupiter and his brothers had defeated the titans and banished them to tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. they were the giants typhon, briareus, enceladus, and others. some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. they were finally subdued and buried alive under mount aetna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano. the fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. while he was thus engaged, venus, who was sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, espied him, and said, "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres,-- "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the gods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors." then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen--the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus built a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt of this story of ceres and proserpine being an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld. it reappears--that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in "paradise lost," book iv.: ". . . not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world,-- ... might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his "ode to melancholy," uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frighted proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of "kubla khan": "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging: "o my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's "rhymes on the road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano, at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft ef enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-- those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him. then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea- gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking personage. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress circe. accordingly he repaired to her island--the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form. i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,--for that i do not wish,--but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. if she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. keats, in his "endymion," has given a new version of the ending of "glaucus and scylla." glaucus consents to circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. he returns to the sea, and there finds the body of scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will appear and help him. endymion fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring glaucus to youth, and scylla and all the drowned lovers to life. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea- change": "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self-intent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc. --keats. chapter viii pygmalion--dryope-venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman came anywhere near it. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love,--bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand--a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife"--he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead--"one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem the "ideals," applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. the following translation is furnished by a friend: "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then, in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation, the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." --s. g. b. dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give it to a nurse. let it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark.' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes, the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in "endymion," alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 't was a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc. venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts--paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from heaven, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana; and calls her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so high as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask me why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his "comus": "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th' assyrian queen;" etc. apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white. [footnote: it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.] and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his "endymion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's "lycidas": "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." chapter ix ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace, without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best, therefore, to make a voyage to carlos in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house,--aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken, he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gave the word to take in sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal--a stygian blackness. the vessel shares all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help,--alas, in vain,--upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. to her his thoughts cling. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the meanwhile halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god somnus. here phoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawning, with crested head, never there calls aloud to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand,--for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachine, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons,-- morpheus,--the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers, "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him, i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood,"--and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me, to trust himself to the waves. oh, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle, i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least, i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the seashore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "while he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every object, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's "bride of abydos" might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse: "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow, that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high, then levelled with the wave ..." milton in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist smoothly the waters kist whispering new joys to the mild ocean, who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in "endymion," says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter x vertumnus and pomona the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. pomona was of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. armed with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. o how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. in this way he gained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us but its useless leaves. and equally the vine, if it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you,--rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you,--who loves you better than you have any idea of,--dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel,--you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, o ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this: let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reft from my life. thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse. thomson in the "seasons" alludes to him: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and as such is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." chapter xi cupid and psyche a certain king and queen had three daughters. the charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and juno. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so, calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying, he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced. "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces." psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses." psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his "comus": "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side two blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. harvey: "they wove bright fables in the days of old, when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given, that led her through the world,--love's worshipper,-- to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city,--by the haunted fount,-- through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,-- 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but nevermore they met since doubts and fears, those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his "ode to psyche": "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censor teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's "summer fete" a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche-- "... not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light;-- for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow. that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul, (though few would think it,) and sparkling thus on brow so white tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter xii cadmus--the myrmidons jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away europa, the daughter of agenor, king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in- gushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood, and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain, the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets with their nodding plumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and says: ... "--pleasing was his shape, and lovely never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus" for an explanation of the last allusion, see oracle of aesculapius, p. . the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles, in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name, down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his war with minos, king of crete. cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew, that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them, i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder a temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. o how many offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow! at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'o jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'o may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, o father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches, though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain- gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple, my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them i called them myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter xiii nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander nisus and scylla minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and o if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. o that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me?--me who have given you victory,--who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, but not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle ing aloft,--it was her father who had been changed into that form,--seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of--reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. o how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me!" "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in "comus." she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention: "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green, and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likest thy narcissus are? o, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how. not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'" etc. --paradise lost, book iv. no one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to by the poets than that of narcissus. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth, struck blind by lightning "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate." the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook, thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamoured he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a flower [footnote: the sunflower.] which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. hood, in his "flowers," thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun;-- but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore, in the town of sestos, lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither all sweet maidens soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile o horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the "bride of abydos" he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron thus alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. o, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." chapter xiv minerva--niobe minerva minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she was said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those of women,--spinning, weaving, and needlework. she was also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. there was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. she assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave arachne some friendly advice "i have had much experience," said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, [footnote: this correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from ovid.] in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a golden shower. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she then touched the forehead of arachne and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. "live," she said, "guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his "muiopotmos," adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare, she stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." [footnote: sir james mackintosh says of this, "do you think that even a chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than the following lines: 'the velvet nap,' etc.?"--life, vol. ii, .] and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: "upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "o, then beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his "palace of art," describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "... sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his "princess" there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana,--when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows,--that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this!--to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes, and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities,--put off the laurel from your brows,--have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on the cynthian mountain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there with the rest,--some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah me!" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow,--like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,--gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror." scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! o spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now: the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. . this affecting story has been made the subject of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe, we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in "rhymes on the road": "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. chapter xv the graeae or gray-maids--perseus--medusa--atlas--andromeda the graeae and the gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa perseus was the son of jupiter and danae. his grandfather acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to polydectes, the king of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. when perseus was grown up polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest of medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. she was once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. perseus, favored by minerva and mercury, the former of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged shoes, approached medusa while she slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut off her head and gave it to minerva, who fixed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his "comus," thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds ... the surges baited by the fierce north-east, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" --imitations of shakspeare. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. the sea-monster perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name, and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his "penseroso," where he addresses melancholy as the ".... goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen" because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. memnon was an aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a future chapter. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of warlike clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated--"you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done." phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus,--"i will make my enemy defend me." then with a loud voice he exclaimed, "if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's "samor": "as'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." chapter xvi monsters giants, sphinx, pegasus and chimaera, centaurs, griffin, and pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. in this condition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and called oedipus, or swollen-foot. many years afterwards laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the highroad. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wandering he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king, iobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all, till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning of the seventh book of "paradise lost": "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing upled by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air (thy tempering); with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere), dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander and forlorn." young, in his "night thoughts," speaking of the sceptic, says: "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment, he condemns himself. who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol ii, p pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him as soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his "pegasus in pound." shakspeare alludes to pegasus in "henry iv.," where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship" the centaurs these monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia they were among the guests. at the feast eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but not all the centaurs were like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant--aesculapius was intrusted to his charge by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve aesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero, awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton uses the pygmies for a simile, "paradise lost," book i.: "... like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, "paradise lost," book ii,: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold," etc. chapter xvii the golden fleece--medea the golden fleece in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram vaulted into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont,--now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phryxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel named "argo," from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the "argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. it remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a few drops of a preparation which medea had supplied. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel before aeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the "argo" to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name "argo" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his "ode on st. cecilia's day," thus celebrates the launching of the ship "argo," and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of "the fleece" there is an account of the ship "argo" and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial," etc. hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the "argo" put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrme, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my spouse, would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, take some years from my life and add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate, [footnote: hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach.] the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags,--animals tenacious of life,-- and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these with many other things "without a name" she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then turning away their faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?" their hearts failed them and their weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus, and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in "macbeth." the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc --macbeth, act iv, scene and again: macbeth.--what is't you do? witches,--a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "medea," where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" chapter xviii meleager and atalanta one of the heroes of the argonautic expedition was meleager, son of oeneus and althea, king and queen of calydon. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus, afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war,--these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear, with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. plexippus and toxeus, the brothers of meleager's mother, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou hast lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes, and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,--"i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron, in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." --childe harold, iv. in moore's "rhymes on the road," the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xix hercules--hebe and ganymede hercules hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. he was, however, by the arts of juno rendered subject to eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the "twelve labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was the slaughter of the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone. this well had been discovered by amymone when the country was suffering from drought, and the story was that neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went and persuaded the rest that the strangers were carrying off their queen. they instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was getting the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. milton, in his "comus," makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus and nieces of atlas: "... amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erythea, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra, the earth, was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were) they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine, and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their footprints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus, and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the hand-maidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides, from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." [footnote: alcides, a name of hercules.] the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end. but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the "ideal and life," illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. "till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." --s. g. b. hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearer to the gods. the usual story is that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the athenaeum gallery. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy, whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his "palace of art," describes among the decorations on the walls a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede, his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's "prometheus" jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the "choice of hercules" may be found in the "tatler," no. . chapter xx theseus--daedalus--castor and pollux theseus theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezen. he was brought up at troezen, and when arrived at manhood was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her, theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means, find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. [footnote: one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is owned by the athenaeum, boston, and deposited, in the museum of fine arts.] his excuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so. on approaching the coast of attica, theseus forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the under-world. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream,"--the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus, or sacred robe of minerva, was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games it seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said, by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea," said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "... with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus in the early history of rome they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his "lays of ancient rome," thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven, through billows and through gales. if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." chapter xxi bacchus--ariadne bacchus bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made known her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his "drinking song" thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves of zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses," it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus, beholding him with wrathful countenance, said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner, unterrified, responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus, the leader of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' 'naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;' took any place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once--strange as it may seem, it is true,--the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters of berries. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the men were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the same beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. trembling with fear, the god cheered me. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer towards naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution the prison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war- horse. he penetrated through the wood and reached an open space where the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon him and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's "comus," at line , the story of circe will be found in chapter xxix. "bacchus that first from out the purple grapes crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan manners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine)." ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while the ungrateful theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her, and made her his wife. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, then the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xxii the rural deities--erisichthon--rhoecus--the water deities-- camenae--winds the rural deities pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one class of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we are about to record. milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "... universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "... in shadier bower, more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." --paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "... great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from the sea, and hear old triton blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem "die gotter griechenlands," expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poet, mrs. e. barrett browning, in her poem called "the dead pan." the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up, poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton in his "hymn on the nativity": "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: "i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied,--to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear and shuddering, and famine. go and tell the last to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance" (for famine dwells very far from ceres), "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she delivered the commands of ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. famine obeyed the commands of ceres and sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke, his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough for him. the more he ate the more he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and though her new master was not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag,--got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life and bade him ask what reward he would. rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her messenger and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, j. r. lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the watery element. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the like. he created the horse and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. having won her he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy was also assigned to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan that thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god, under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portunus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of "comus": "... sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook, [footnote: proteus] by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus' spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands. by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet;" etc. armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. o comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy;" etc. tennyson, also, in his "palace of art," gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview: "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind; zephyrus or favonius, the west; notus or auster, the south; and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost," where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep. "... he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the "night thoughts," addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable) for whom the winter rose must blow, ... ... and silky soft favonius breathe still softer or be chid!" chapter xxiii achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope achelous and hercules the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power? sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his stepmother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield to you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clenching his hand in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it 'cornucopia.'" the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, "paradise lost," book iv.: "... that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become the servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysos. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self- devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet "on his deceased wife:" "methought i saw my late espoused saint brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." j. r. lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. "and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after-poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." antigone a large proportion both of the interesting persons and of the exalted acts of legendary greece belongs to the female sex. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias in his youth had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one on pain of death to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. her lover, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her "characteristics of women," has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakspeare's "king lear." the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? o, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. o my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." --francklin's sophocles. penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hoping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xxiv orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus--thamyris-- marsyas--melampus--musaeus orpheus and eurydice orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics, eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love has led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell,"--and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. they roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his "ode for st. cecilia's day" the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if't is no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries; ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue: eurydice the woods eurydice the floods eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung" the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus is alluded to by southey in his "thalaba": "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose' far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment, the waterfall remote, the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves" aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident: aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "o mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment, he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. when noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but finding all would not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do yot want of me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days, you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in "the task," cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc.: "less worthy of applause though more admired because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in "comus": "sabrina fair! listen where thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead. amphion, having become king of thebes, fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. see tennyson's poem of "amphion" for an amusing use made of this story. linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, "paradise lost," book iii., . marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded melampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his "il penseroso": "but o, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bid the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xxv arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the "age of fable," that is, of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, arion from schlegel, and ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "o periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean--but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life would be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die, as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded,--they thought only of their booty,--but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood,--ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks: "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well- proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spenser represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his lore, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his "childe harold," canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed. "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? did he fall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the amphitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings? the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we the fearful family of night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches--"look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the "lamentation of danae," the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father, acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child, perseus, when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself, as recorded by tradition. on one occasion, when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of thy performance; castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in "childe harold," canto ii.: "childe harold sailed and passed the barren spot where sad penelope o'erlooked the wave, and onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, the lover's refuge and the lesbian's grave. dark sappho! could not verse immortal save that breast imbued with such immortal fire? "'twas on a grecian autumn's gentle eve childe harold hailed leucadia's cape afar;" etc. those who wish to know more of sappho and her "leap" are referred to the "spectator," nos. and . see also moore's "evenings in greece." chapter xxvi endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea diana and endymion endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death.--s. g. b. the "endymion" of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "... the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding-place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to endymion thus: "... these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less than i of thee." fletcher, in the "faithful shepherdess," tells: "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. the blinded hero followed the sound of a cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading through the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their number was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." --locksley hall. byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. hemans's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victory declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his "botanic garden," says: "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." book i., ., . acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred of polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. o venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then for the first time he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!' the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. dryden, in his "cymon and iphigenia," has told the story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to the old story of galatea and the cyclops. "what not his father's care nor tutor's art could plant with pains in his unpolished heart, the best instructor, love, at once inspired, as barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife soon taught the sweet civilities of life." chapter xxvii the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus: at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "for the fairest." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva each claimed the apple. jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope, and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect; diomede, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero; ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. he felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas, the soothsayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his "dream of fair women," makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly,--and--nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife, laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "'the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand,-- mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "'yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod,--these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "'but should suspense permit the foe to cry, "behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die?" in soul i swept the indignity away: old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought.' "... upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" "the iliad" the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, "the iliad," begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon, enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented, and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now instead of besieging troy they were in a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed and struck ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. then ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all had borrowed of venus her girdle, called "cestus," which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was despatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that, while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice: achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates: diomede, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear, but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also descended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who retiring a short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortunes, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might despatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, o, give us day." --cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "... lord of earth and air! o king! o father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey, but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and the rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from the city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah, no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated. achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lightning as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious," so saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him around the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. while achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba, his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hinderance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles, and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles, and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth, and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy thronging forth encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." --pope. chapter xxviii the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra the fall of troy the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis his mother had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [footnote : the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if be were invulnerable?] the body of achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis-- ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the aid of the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomed was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he sukcceeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. [footnote : tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.] there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this? have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part, i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared, advancing over the sea, two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. a cast of it is owned by the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the "childe harold" of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending;--vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's "description of a city shower": "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and ever and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through); laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus, the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, [footnote : pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial. see proverbial expressions.] and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia, and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the "fleece," thus alludes to this incident: "... many yet adhere to the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed, casting the whirling spindle as they walk. this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." --comus. menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. it was intended by the conspirators to slay his son orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius orestes grew up with the king's son pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to be a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched over him. at length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution,--just, had it but been from hands less near,--in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "... the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy the facts relating to the city of troy are still unknown to history. antiquarians have long sought for the actual city and some record of its rulers. the most interesting explorations were those conducted about by the german scholar, henry schliemann, who believed that at the mound of hissarlik, the traditional site of troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital. schliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or four settlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finally came upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be "priam's treasure." scholars are by no means agreed as to the historic value of these discoveries. chapter xxix adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--cyclopes--circe--sirens --scylla and charybdis--calypso return of ulysses the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of the ships. [footnote: tennyson in the "lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced. "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each others' whispered speech; eating the lotos, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray: to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass."] they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then, turning round his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and despatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. he, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted out, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before. the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only ulysses moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. landing here, ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his "endymion" he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language, thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too--too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster, darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away, shrieking, to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis the next land he would make was thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the topics we have just been considering is from milton's "comus," line : "... i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. see proverbial expressions. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the attributes of the gods. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received the command of jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and everywhere appeared meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of "telemachus," has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who in the shape of mentor accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxx the phaeacians--fate of the suitors the phaeacians ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there, finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaeacians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous, their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for her minerva aided and endowed with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in extent. in it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine press. on the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received those garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any of the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard,-- "... dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the "wooden horse," by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses replied by announcing himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses: "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." --odyssey, book viii. lord carlisle, in his "diary in the turkish and greek waters," thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the 'odyssey.' the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors ulysses had now been away from ithaca for twenty years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. minerva appeared to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. he arrived and sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "... then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept. desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should also go as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from what we concede to it now. as traveller and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "... soon as he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. ... then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house, though young, and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile, her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all were slain, and ulysses was left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. tennyson's poem of "ulysses" represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "... come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew;" etc. chapter xxxi adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus adventures of aeneas we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction, with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but, in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation, and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such a crime, hastened away. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, ambiguous as usual,--"seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies. these were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws and faces pale with hunger. they were sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily and passed the country of the cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses's companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses's adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds,--the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon, and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his "panegyric to the lord protector" (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido, their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion, who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." [footnote : see proverbial expressions.] at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter despatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. the following epigram we find in "elegant extracts": from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying" palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus sent by neptune approached in the guise of phorbas and said: "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down awhile and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,--me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm, it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's "marmion," introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "o, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father, anchises, to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy: the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty."[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off and borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed.[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother, venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxxii the infernal regions--the sibyl the infernal regions as at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil locates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beings who are enumerated as griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death,--forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus, with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, but the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?" she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three-headed dog, cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. o how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause? i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends, but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies." at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within a hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day and another to-morrow. ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill. others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, magnanimous heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow-white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, "o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me." then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "o father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus, the more earth predominates in the composition the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sibyl then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and describes it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. j. r. lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says: "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton also alludes to the same fable in "paradise lost," book iii, . : "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream, lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand grains i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxxiii camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus--mezentius--turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having despatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country." he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then speeded to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress's feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth, worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear, with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana and repelled the thought of marriage. evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander, the arcadian chief, he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. then for the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were, and what their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you, and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amaze at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood, they joined the king and his party and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. infant rome when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas with delight looked and listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered with the skin of a libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body guard. he found the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, [footnote: the poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses. it may be thus translated--"then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."--see proverbial expressions.] having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them into the field. night coming on, the army of turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now, i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you, then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought her entreaties. but do thou, i beseech you, comfort her in her distress. promise me that and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to die with him. raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians, i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. pallas, camilla, turnus while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at her request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the poem of the "aeneid" closes, and we are left to infer that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia for his bride. tradition adds that he founded his city, and called it after her name, lavinium. his son iulus founded alba longa, which was the birthplace of romulus and remus and the cradle of rome itself. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says: "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main." --essay on criticism. chapter xxxiv pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles pythagoras the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively, and it is said visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. at crotona, where he finally established himself, his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their property in one common stock for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he [pythagoras] said so" (ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole because it had a beginning, middle, and end. four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was originally egyptian and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan war i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different times, different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakspeare, in the "merchant of venice," makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his "song for st. cecilia's day": "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakspeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "look, jessica, see how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in his motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." --merchant of venice. the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow; and with your ninefold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. our own poet longfellow, in "verses to a child," thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, and formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's "occupation of orion"-- "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. j. r. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem "to the dandelion": "not in mid june the golden cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood- cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte," alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity amun, afterwards called zeus, or jupiter ammon. amun manifested himself in his word or will, which created kneph and athor, of different sexes. from kneph and athor proceeded osiris and isis. osiris was worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the god of the nile, who annually visited his wife, isis (the earth), by means of an inundation. serapis or hermes is sometimes represented as identical with osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the ruler of tartarus and god of medicine. anubis is the guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. horus or harpocrates was the son of osiris. he is represented seated on a lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's "irish melodies" is an allusion to harpocrates: "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip; like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits ever thus,--his only song to earth and heaven, 'hush all, hush!'" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought during his absence to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was materially assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philae, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. the individual animal who was held to be apis was recognized by certain signs. it was requisite that he should be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead, another, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. as soon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was, however, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. we find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day: "the tomb of apis.--the excavations going on at memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting as pompeii. the monster tomb of apis is now open, after having lain unknown for centuries." milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons, put to flight by the coming of christ. "the brutish god of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." [footnote: there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depend for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.] isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in "maud," iv., : "for the drift of the maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil," etc. oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account, it was established in the following manner: two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at the oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architects, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means, from time to time, purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonias, unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no oracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, but walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and defected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low- spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents 'were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts this view in his "hymn of the nativity," and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour: "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos heaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell" in cowper's poem of "yardley oak" there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says: "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeede and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou wast such? of couldst thou speak, as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson, in his "talking oak," alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke; etc. byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says: "for the, he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxxv origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses--poets of mythology origins of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, and inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject; and . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his "history of the world," says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven." there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called cronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." --il penseroso. . the physical theory; according to which the elements of air, fire, and water were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his "excursion," has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology: "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, that simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have been mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have arisen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods to adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on his throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the "iliad," in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, and all olympus to the centre shook." [footnote: cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original: "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope: "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod."] the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minerva at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles, now in the british museum, are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his "summer": "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" etc. and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." see this last allusion explained in chapter xxvii. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome in which it was placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python. (see chapter iii.) the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the "iliad" and "odyssey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says: "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." these seven were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the "aeneid" we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor augustus so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of "paradise lost," from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: "on milton "three poets in three different ages born, greece, italy, and england did adorn the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's "table talk": "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid ovid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the "trista" and "letters from pontus") have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his "metamorphoses" and his "fasti." they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the 'metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the "metamorphoses," of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, and snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure forevermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxxvi modern monsters--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander modern monsters there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird, a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ) the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of the phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his "vulgar errors," published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in "paradise lost," book v., compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "... down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror which was immediately followed by death. in shakspeare's play of "richard the third," lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him." it was formerly believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider, but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy"--and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxiety to know what a cockatrice was like. the following is from aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific collections for purposes of investigation and research. shelley, in his "ode to naples," full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been,--devoured by their own hounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze,--for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as movable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short, with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as anything can be. the salamander the following is from the "life of benvenuto cellini," an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself: "when i was about five years of age, my father, happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was, he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! "o, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxxvii eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha-- grand lama zoroaster our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendency. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman--carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "... the persian,--zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands,-- the loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars, and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." --excursion, book iv. in "childe harold" byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not vainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's "lalla rookh," the "fire worshippers." the gueber chief says, "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that morn and even hail their creator's dwelling-place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to iran and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are: . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yama, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort." the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third name, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; that power not being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes: at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not be maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. he died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and among other things it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long-continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorian christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix. of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorian christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in "paradise lost," book xi., where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,-- "... nor did his eyes not ken th' empire of negus, to his utmost port, ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxviii northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior northern mythology the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations, called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern or prose edda being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an elder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash tree ygdrasill was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt woden, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrum. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrie the valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrie are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." [footnote: gray's ode, "the fatal sisters," is founded on this superstition.] of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is a hammer, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death), the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster had grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidner. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning anguish forms the hangings of the apartments. she may easily be recognized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. he therefore only consented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage enough to do this. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms, provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered thrym and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed: "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled "skirnir for," and the one immediately preceding it, "thrym's quida," will be found poetically told in longfellow's "poets and poetry of europe." chapter xxxix thor's visit to jotunheim thor's visit to jotunheim, the giant's country one day the god thor, with his servant thialfi, and accompanied by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god thor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper." skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir, awakening, cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? me thinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore, i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-- loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king, utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much out-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard-loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor?" said utgard-loki; "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-bearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length after a very violent struggle thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning, at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, "is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous that had i not seen it myself i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. chapter xl the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--iceland--teutonic mythology--nibelungen lied the death of baldur baldur the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning,-- "uprose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed" but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the man- sion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them." "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest, and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death" hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace, where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg everything to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. [footnote: in longfellow's poems will be found a poem entitled "tegner's drapa," upon the subject of baldur's death.] the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore where stood baldur's ship "hringham," which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile as her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrie, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding- place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki, finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black or night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship "skidbladnir," which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnarok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battlefield called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden without meeting with great stones of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the "descent of odin" contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on "heroes and hero worship" gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology: "in that strange island, iceland,--burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains], roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield of frost and fire,--where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials,--the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" teutonic mythology in the mythology of germany proper, the name of odin appears as wotan; freya and frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general represented as less warlike in character than those in the scandinavian myths. as a whole, however, teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines with that of the northern nations. the most notable divergence is due to modifications of the legends by reason of the difference in climatic conditions. the more advanced social condition of the germans is also apparent in their mythology. the nibelungen lied one of the oldest myths of the teutonic race is found in the great national epic of the nibelungen lied, which dates back to the prehistoric era when wotan, frigga, thor, loki, and the other gods and goddesses were worshipped in the german forests. the epic is divided into two parts, the first of which tells how siegfried, the youngest of the kings of the netherlands, went to worms, to ask in marriage the hand of kriemhild, sister of gunther, king of burgundy. while he was staying with gunther, siegfried helped the burgundian king to secure as his wife brunhild, queen of issland. the latter had announced publicly that he only should be her husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a huge stone, and in leaping. siegfried, who possessed a cloak of invisibility, aided gunther in these three contests, and brunhild became his wife. in return for these services, gunther gave siegfried his sister kriemhild in marriage. after some time had elapsed, siegfried and kriemhild went to visit gunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relative merits of their husbands. kriemhild, to exalt siegfried, boasted that it was to the latter that gunther owed his victories and his wife. brunhild, in great anger, employed hagan, liegeman of gunther, to murder siegfried. in the epic hagan is described as follows: "well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; his hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late; most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait." --nibelungen lied, stanza . this achilles of german romance stabbed siegfried between the shoulders, as the unfortunate king of the netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during a hunting expedition. the second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later, kriemhild married etzel, king of the huns. after a time, she invited the king of burgundy, with hagan and many others, to the court of her husband. a fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the burgundians but gunther and hagan. these two were taken prisoners and given to kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. for this bloody act of vengeance kriemhild was herself slain by hildebrand, a magician and champion, who in german mythology holds a place to an extent corresponding to that of nestor in the greek mythology. the nibelungen hoard this was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones which siegfried obtained from the nibelungs, the people of the north whom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the netherlands. upon his marriage, siegfried gave the treasure to kriemhild as her wedding portion. after the murder of siegfried, hagan seized it and buried it secretly beneath the rhine at lochham, intending to recover it at a future period. the hoard was lost forever when hagan was killed by kriemhild. its wonders are thus set forth in the poem: "'twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay; though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day. "it was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold; were all the world bought from it, and down the value told, not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, i ween." --nibelungen lied, xix. whoever possessed the nibelungen hoard were termed nibelungers. thus at one time certain people of norway were so called. when siegfried held the treasure he received the title "king of the nibelungers." wagner's nibelungen ring though richard wagner's music-drama of the nibelungen ring bears some resemblance to the ancient german epic, it is a wholly independent composition and was derived from various old songs and sagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story. the principal source was the volsunga saga, while lesser parts were taken from the elder edda and the younger edda, and others from the nibelungen lied, the ecklenlied, and other teutonic folklore. in the drama there are at first only four distinct races,--the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. the gods are the noblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the palace of valhalla on the heights. the giants are a great and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble, and are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth's surface. the dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of the earth. the nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of the water. the valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from the battle-fields and carry them to valhalla. the heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they are destined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the government of the world. the principal gods are wotan, loki, donner, and froh. the chief giants are fafner and fasolt, brothers. the chief dwarfs are alberich and mime, brothers, and later hagan, son of alberich. the chief nymphs are the rhine-daughters, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda. there are nine valkyrie, of whom brunhild is the leading one. wagner's story of the ring may be summarized as follows: a hoard of gold exists in the depths of the rhine, guarded by the innocent rhine-maidens. alberich, the dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. he makes it into a magic ring. it gives him all power, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures. meanwhile wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants to build for him a noble castle, valhalla, from whence to rule the world, promising in payment freya, goddess of youth and love. but the gods find they cannot spare freya, as they are dependent on her for their immortal youth. loki, called upon to provide a substitute, tells of alberich's magic ring and other treasure. wotan goes with loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoard from alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. the gods give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a substitute for freya. the curse at once begins. one giant, fafner, kills his brother to get all, and transforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. the gods enter valhalla over the rainbow bridge. this ends the first part of the drama, called the rhine-gold. the second part, the valkyrie, relates how wotan still covets the ring. he cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to the giants. he stands or falls by his word. so he devises an artifice to get the ring. he will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the ring and the treasures. siegmund and sieglinda are twin children of this new race. sieglinda is carried off as a child and is forced into marriage with hunding. siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins nothung, the great sword, and a bride. brunhild, chief of the valkyrie, is commissioned by wotan at the instance of fricka, goddess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. she disobeys and tries to save him, but hunding, helped by wotan, slays him. sieglinda, however, about to bear the free hero, to be called siegfried, is saved by brunhild, and hid in the forest. brunhild herself is punished by being made a mortal woman. she is left sleeping on the mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate. the drama continues with the story of siegfried, which opens with a scene in the smithy between mime the dwarf and siegfried. mime is welding a sword, and siegfried scorns him. mime tells him something of his mother, sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces of his father's sword. wotan comes and tells mime that only one who has no fear can remake the sword. now siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword nothung. wotan and alberich come to where the dragon fafner is guarding the ring. they both long for it, but neither can take it. soon mime comes bringing siegfried with the mighty sword. fafner comes out, but siegfried slays him. happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the birds. they tell him of the ring. he goes and gets it. siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. it is to curse love and finally bring death. the birds also tell him of mime's treachery. he slays mime. he longs for some one to love. the birds tell him of the slumbering brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries. the dusk of the gods portrays at the opening the three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. it is the beginning of the end. the perfect pair, siegfried and brunhild, appear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood. but siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds of prowess. he gives her the nibelungen ring to keep as a pledge of his love till his return. meanwhile alberich also has begotten a son, hagan, to achieve for him the possession of the ring. he is partly of the gibichung race, and works through gunther and gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. they beguile siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makes him forget brunhild and fall in love with gutrune. under this same spell, he offers to bring brunhild for wife to gunther. now is valhalla full of sorrow and despair. the gods fear the end. wotan murmurs, "o that she would give back the ring to the rhine." but brunhild will not give it up,--it is now her pledge of love. siegfried comes, takes the ring, and brunhild is now brought to the rhine castle of the gibichungs, but siegfried under the spell does not love her. she is to be wedded to gunther. she rises in wrath and denounces siegfried. but at a hunting banquet siegfried is given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain by hagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on brunhild's name in love. then comes the end. the body of siegfried is burned on a funeral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and brunhild rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ring goes back to the rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the gods of valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. they pass, and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun. those who wish to study the differences in the legends of the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring, and the way in which wagner used his ancient material, are referred to professor w. c. sawyer's book on "teutonic legends in the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring," where the matter is treated in full detail. for a very thorough and clear analysis of the ring as wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better for general readers than the volume "the epic of sounds," by freda winworth. the more scholarly work of professor lavignac is indispensable for the student of wagner's dramas. there is much illuminating comment on the sources and materials in "legends of the wagner drama" by j. l. weston. chapter xli the druids--iona druids the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be' al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings," and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the "boat song" in the "lady of the lake": "ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade;" etc. the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on halloweve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language, which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it." they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious. the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands, and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists," etc. pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the "bard." there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. hemans' poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london, may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "... midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter and continued their now dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. lona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba with twelve friends landed on the island of lona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei"--worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three,-- celibacy, poverty, and obedience.--the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near lona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of "reullura," alludes to the married monks of iona: "... the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in lona preached the word with power, and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his "irish melodies," moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "o, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod." in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth centurv that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papal usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the subversion of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of lona." in the "lord of the isles" scott beautifully contrasts the church on lona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns, or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells that mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay! thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard--but witness mine!" glossary abdalrahman, founder of the independent ommiad (saracenic) power in spain, conquered at tours by charles martel aberfraw, scene of nuptials of branwen and matholch absyrtus, younger brother of medea abydos, a town on the hellespont, nearly opposite to sestos abyla, mount, or columna, a mountain in morocco, near ceuta, now called jebel musa or ape's hill, forming the northwestern extremity of the african coast opposite gibraltar (see pillars of hercules) acestes, son of a trojan woman who was sent by her father to sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the territory of troy acetes, bacchanal captured by pentheus achates, faithful friend and companion of aeneas achelous, river-god of the largest river in greece--his horn of plenty achilles, the hero of the iliad, son of peleus and of the nereid thetis, slain by paris acis, youth loved by galatea and slain by polyphemus acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with cydippe, the daughter of a noble athenian. acrisius, son of abas, king of argos, grandson of lynceus, the great-grandson of danaus. actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of aristaeus and autonoe, who, having seen diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by his own dogs. admeta, daughter of eurystheus, covets hippolyta's girdle. admetus, king of thessaly, saved from death by alcestis adonis, a youth beloved by aphrodite (venus), and proserpine; killed by a boar. adrastus, a king of argos. aeacus, son of zeus (jupiter) and aegina, renowned in all greece for his justice and piety. aeaea, circe's island, visited by ulysses. aeetes, or aeeta, son of helios (the sun) and perseis, and father of medea and absyrtus. aegeus, king of athens. aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the saronic gulf. aegis, shield or breastplate of jupiter and minerva. aegisthus, murderer of agamemnon, slain by orestes. aeneas, trojan hero, son of anchises and aphrodite (venus), and born on mount ida, reputed first settler of rome, aeneid, poem by virgil, relating the wanderings of aeneas from troy to italy, ae'olus, son of hellen and the nymph orseis, represented in homer as the happy ruler of the aeolian islands, to whom zeus had given dominion over the winds, aesculapius, god of the medical art, aeson, father of jason, made young again by medea, aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of egypt, aethra, mother of theseus by aegeus, aetna, volcano in sicily, agamedes, brother of trophonius, distinguished as an architect, agamemnon, son of plisthenis and grandson of atreus, king of mycenae, although the chief commander of the greeks, is not the hero of the iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to achilles, agave, daughter of cadmus, wife of echion, and mother of pentheus, agenor, father of europa, cadmus, cilix, and phoenix, aglaia, one of the graces, agni, hindu god of fire, agramant, a king in africa, agrican, fabled king of tartary, pursuing angelica, finally killed by orlando, agrivain, one of arthur's knights, ahriman, the evil spirit in the dual system of zoroaster, see ormuzd ajax, son of telamon, king of salamis, and grandson of aeacus, represented in the iliad as second only to achilles in bravery, alba, the river where king arthur fought the romans, alba longa, city in italy founded by son of aeneas, alberich, dwarf guardian of rhine gold treasure of the nibelungs albracca, siege of, alcestis, wife of admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her husband, but rescued by hercules, alcides (hercules), alcina, enchantress, alcinous, phaeacian king, alcippe, daughter of mars, carried off by halirrhothrus, alcmena, wife of jupiter, and mother of hercules, alcuin, english prelate and scholar, aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, alecto, one of the furies, alexander the great, king of macedonia, conqueror of greece, egypt, persia, babylonia, and india, alfadur, a name for odin, alfheim, abode of the elves of light, alice, mother of huon and girard, sons of duke sevinus, alphenor, son of niobe, alpheus, river god pursuing arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a fountain, althaea, mother of meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of thestius," her father, amalthea, nurse of the infant jupiter in crete, amata, wife of latinus, driven mad by alecto, amaury of hauteville, false hearted knight of charlemagne, amazons, mythical race of warlike women, ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, ammon, egyptian god of life identified by romans with phases of jupiter, the father of gods, amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at argos, amphion, a musician, son of jupiter and antiope (see dirce), amphitrite, wife of neptune, amphyrsos, a small river in thessaly, ampyx, assailant of perseus, turned to stone by seeing gorgon's head, amrita, nectar giving immortality, amun, see ammon amymone, one of the fifty daughters of danaus, and mother by poseidon (neptune) of nauplius, the father of palamedes, anaxarete, a maiden of cyprus, who treated her lover iphis with such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, anbessa, saracenic governor of spain ( ad), anceus, one of the argonauts, anchises, beloved by aphrodite (venus), by whom he became the father of aeneas, andraemon, husband of dryope, saw her changed into a tree, andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon tristram, andromache, wife of hector andromeda, daughter of king cephas, delivered from monster by perseus aneurin, welsh bard angelica, princess of cathay anemone, short lived wind flower, created by venus from the blood of the slain adonis angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of fenris, hela and the midgard serpent anglesey, a northern british island, refuge of druids fleeing from romans antaeus, giant wrestler of libya, killed by hercules, who, finding him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and strangled him antea, wife of jealous proetus antenor, descendants of, in italy anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of eros (cupid) anthor, a greek antigone, daughter of aedipus, greek ideal of filial and sisterly fidelity antilochus, son of nestor antiope, amazonian queen. see dirce anubis, egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment apennines aphrodite see venus, dione, etc. apis, egyptian bull god of memphis apollo, god of music and song apollo belvedere, famous antique statue in vatican at rome apples of the hesperides, wedding gifts to juno, guarded by daughters of atlas and hesperis, stolen by atlas for hercules, aquilo, or boreas, the north wind, aquitaine, ancient province of southwestern france, arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by minerva for daring to compete with her, arcadia, a country in the middle of peloponnesus, surrounded on all sides by mountains, arcady, star of, the pole star, arcas, son of jupiter and callisto, archer, constellation of the, areopagus, court of the, at athens, ares, called mars by the romans, the greek god of war, and one of the great olympian gods, arethusa, nymph of diana, changed to a fountain, argius king of ireland, father of isoude the fair, argo, builder of the vessel of jason for the argonautic expedition, argolis, city of the nemean games, argonauts, jason's crew seeking the golden fleece, argos, a kingdom in greece, argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of io, ariadne, daughter of king minos, who helped theseus slay the minotaur, arimanes see ahriman. arimaspians, one-eyed people of syria, arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to land, aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with eurydice, armorica, another name for britain, arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by orlando, artemis see diana arthgallo, brother of elidure, british king, arthur, king in britain about the th century, aruns, an etruscan who killed camilla, asgard, home of the northern gods, ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring rinaldo to death, aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, astolpho of england, one of charlemagne's knights, astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of astraeus and eos, astyages, an assailant of perseus, astyanax, son of hector of troy, established kingdom of messina in italy, asuias, opponents of the braminical gods, atalanta, beautiful daughter of king of icaria, loved and won in a foot race by hippomenes, ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, athamas, son of aeolus and enarete, and king of orchomenus, in boeotia, see ino athene, tutelary goddess of athens, the same as minerva, athens, the capital of attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers cephissus and ilissus, athor, egyptian deity, progenitor of isis and osiris, athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called acte, which projects from chalcidice in macedonia, atlantes, foster father of rogero, a powerful magician, atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the pillars of hercules, in the ocean, opposite mount atlas, atlas, a titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of iapetus, atlas, mount, general name for range in northern africa, atropos, one of the fates attica, a state in ancient greece, audhumbla, the cow from which the giant ymir was nursed. her milk was frost melted into raindrops, augean stables, cleansed by hercules, augeas, king of elis, augustan age, reign of roman emperor augustus caesar, famed for many great authors, augustus, the first imperial caesar, who ruled the roman empire bc-- ad, aulis, port in boeotia, meeting place of greek expedition against troy, aurora, identical with eos, goddess of the dawn, aurora borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called northern lights, probably electrical, autumn, attendant of phoebus, the sun, avalon, land of the blessed, an earthly paradise in the western seas, burial place of king arthur, avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of vishnu, the preserver (hindu god), aventine, mount, one of the seven hills of rome, avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between cumae and puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, avicenna, celebrated arabian physician and philosopher, aya, mother of rinaldo, aymon, duke, father of rinaldo and bradamante, b baal, king of tyre, babylonian river, dried up when phaeton drove the sun chariot, bacchanali a, a feast to bacchus that was permitted to occur but once in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of bacchus, bacchus (dionysus), god of wine and revelry, badon, battle of, arthur's final victory over the saxons, bagdemagus, king, a knight of arthur's time, baldur, son of odin, and representing in norse mythology the sun god, balisardo, orlando's sword, ban, king of brittany, ally of arthur, father of launcelot, bards, minstrels of welsh druids, basilisk see cockatrice baucis, wife of philemon, visited by jupiter and mercury, bayard, wild horse subdued by rinaldo, beal, druids' god of life, bedivere, arthur's knight, bedver, king arthur's butler, made governor of normandy, bedwyr, knightly comrade of geraint, belisarda, rogero's sword, bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the chimaera, bellona, the roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of mars, beltane, druidical fire festival, belus, son of poseidon (neptune) and libya or eurynome, twin brother of agenor, bendigeid vran, king of britain, beowulf, hero and king of the swedish geats, beroe, nurse of semele, bertha, mother of orlando, bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and asgard bladud, inventor, builder of the city of bath, blamor, a knight of arthur, bleoberis, a knight of arthur, boeotia, state in ancient greece, capital city thebes, bohort, king, a knight of arthur, bona dea, a roman divinity of fertility, bootes, also called areas, son of jupiter and calisto, changed to constellation of ursa major, boreas, north wind, son of aeolus and aurora, bosporus (bosphorus), the cow-ford, named for io, when as a heifer she crossed that strait, bradamante, sister to rinaldo, a female warrior, brademagus, king, father of sir maleagans, bragi, norse god of poetry, brahma, the creator, chief god of hindu religion, branwen, daughter of llyr, king of britain, wife of mathclch, breciliande, forest of, where vivian enticed merlin, brengwain, maid of isoude the fair brennus, son of molmutius, went to gaul, became king of the allobroges, breuse, the pitiless, a caitiff knight, briareus, hundred armed giant, brice, bishop, sustainer of arthur when elected king, brigliadoro, orlando's horse, briseis, captive maid belonging to achilles, britto, reputed ancestor of british people, bruhier, sultan of arabia, brunello, dwarf, thief, and king brunhild, leader of the valkyrie, brutus, great grandson of aeneas, and founder of city of new troy (london), see pandrasus bryan, sir, a knight of arthur, buddha, called the enlightened, reformer of brahmanism, deified teacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, karma (inevitable sequence of every act), and nirvana (beatific absorption into the divine), lived about byblos, in egypt, byrsa, original site of carthage, c cacus, gigantic son of vulcan, slain by hercules, whose captured cattle he stole, cadmus, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and of telephassa, and brother of europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by jupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five, who helped cadmus to found the city of thebes, caduceus, mercury's staff, cadwallo, king of venedotia (north wales), caerleon, traditional seat of arthur's court, caesar, julius, roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated roman territory, making possible the empire, caicus, a greek river, cairns, druidical store piles, calais, french town facing england, calchas, wisest soothsayer among the greeks at troy, caliburn, a sword of arthur, calliope, one of the nine muses callisto, an arcadian nymph, mother of arcas (see bootes), changed by jupiter to constellation ursa minor, calpe, a mountain in the south of spain, on the strait between the atlantic and mediterranean, now rock of gibraltar, calydon, home of meleager, calypso, queen of island of ogyia, where ulysses was wrecked and held seven years, camber, son of brutus, governor of west albion (wales), camelot, legendary place in england where arthur's court and palace were located, camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient italy, camilla, volscian maiden, huntress and amazonian warrior, favorite of diana, camlan, battle of, where arthur was mortally wounded, canterbury, english city, capaneus, husband of evadne, slain by jupiter for disobedience, capet, hugh, king of france ( - ad), caradoc briefbras, sir, great nephew of king arthur, carahue, king of mauretania, carthage, african city, home of dido cassandra, daughter of priam and hecuba, and twin sister of helenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the greeks but was not believed, cassibellaunus, british chieftain, fought but not conquered by caesar, cassiopeia, mother of andromeda, castalia, fountain of parnassus, giving inspiration to oracular priestess named pythia, castalian cave, oracle of apollo, castes (india), castor and pollux--the dioscuri, sons of jupiter and leda,-- castor a horseman, pollux a boxer (see gemini), caucasus, mount cavall, arthur's favorite dog, cayster, ancient river, cebriones, hector's charioteer, cecrops, first king of athens, celestials, gods of classic mythology, celeus, shepherd who sheltered ceres, seeking proserpine, and whose infant son triptolemus was in gratitude made great by ceres, cellini, benvenuto, famous italian sculptor and artificer in metals, celtic nations, ancient gauls and britons, modern bretons, welsh, irish and gaelic scotch, centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting mount pelion in thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men, and said to have been the offspring of ixion and a cloud, cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous procris, cephe us, king of ethiopians, father of andromeda, cephisus, a grecian stream, cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to hades, called a son of typhaon and echidna ceres (see demeter) cestus, the girdle of venus ceyx, king of thessaly (see halcyone) chaos, original confusion, personified by greeks as most ancient of the gods charlemagne, king of the franks and emperor of the romans charles martel', king of the franks, grandfather of charlemagne, called martel (the hammer) from his defeat of the saracens at tours charlot, son of charlemagne charon, son of erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world charyb'dis, whirlpool near the coast of sicily, see scylla chimaera, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of a goat, slain by bellerophon china, lamas (priests) of chos, island in the grecian archipelago chiron, wisest of all the centaurs, son of cronos (saturn) and philyra, lived on mount pelion, instructor of grecian heroes chryseis, trojan maid, taken by agamemnon chryses, priest of apollo, father of chryseis ciconians, inhabitants of ismarus, visited by ulysses cimbri, an ancient people of central europe cimmeria, a land of darkness cimon, athenian general circe, sorceress, sister of aeetes cithaeron, mount, scene of bacchic worship clarimunda, wife of huon clio, one of the muses cloridan, a moor clotho, one of the fates clymene, an ocean nymph clytemnestra, wife of agamemnon, killed by orestes clytie, a water nymph, in love with apollo cnidos, ancient city of asia minor, seat of worship of aphrodite (venus) cockatrice (or basilisk), called king of serpents, supposed to kill with its look cocytus, a river of hades colchis, a kingdom east of the black sea colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of homer columba, st, an irish christian missionary to druidical parts of scotland conan, welsh king constantine, greek emperor cordeilla, daughter of the mythical king leir corineus, a trojan warrior in albion cornwall, southwest part of britain cortana, ogier's sword corybantes, priests of cybele, or rhea, in phrygia, who celebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, crab, constellation cranes and their enemies, the pygmies, of ibycus creon, king of thebes crete, one of the largest islands of the mediterranean sea, lying south of the cyclades creusa, daughter of priam, wife of aeneas crocale, a nymph of diana cromlech, druidical altar cronos, see saturn crotona, city of italy cuchulain, irish hero, called the "hound of ireland," culdees', followers of st. columba, cumaean sibyl, seeress of cumae, consulted by aeneas, sold sibylline books to tarquin cupid, child of venus and god of love curoi of kerry, wise man cyane, river, opposed pluto's passage to hades cybele (rhea) cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom homer speaks as a gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in sicily, who devoured human beings, they helped vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of zeus under aetna cymbeline, king of ancient britain cynosure (dog's tail), the pole star, at tail of constellation ursa minor cynthian mountain top, birthplace of artemis (diana) and apollo cyprus, island off the coast of syria, sacred to aphrodite cyrene, a nymph, mother of aristaeus daedalus, architect of the cretan labyrinth, inventor of sails daguenet, king arthur's fool dalai lama, chief pontiff of thibet danae, mother of perseus by jupiter danaides, the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who were betrothed to the fifty sons of aegyptus, but were commanded by their father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night danaus (see danaides) daphne, maiden loved by apollo, and changed into a laurel tree dardanelles, ancient hellespont dardanus, progenitor of the trojan kings dardinel, prince of zumara dawn, see aurora day, an attendant on phoebus, the sun day star (hesperus) death, see hela deiphobus, son of priam and hecuba, the bravest brother of paris dejanira, wife of hercules delos, floating island, birthplace of apollo and diana delphi, shrine of apollo, famed for its oracles demeter, greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by romans with ceres demeha, south wales demodocus, bard of alomous, king of the phaeaeians deucalion, king of thessaly, who with his wife pyrrha were the only pair surviving a deluge sent by zeus dia, island of diana (artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of jupiter and latona diana of the hind, antique sculpture in the louvre, paris diana, temple of dictys, a sailor didier, king of the lombards dido, queen of tyre and carthage, entertained the shipwrecked aeneas diomede, greek hero during trojan war dione, female titan, mother of zeus, of aphrodite (venus) dionysus see bacchus dioscuri, the twins (see castor and pollux) dirce, wife of lycus, king of thebes, who ordered amphion and zethus to tie antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning antiope to be their mother, so treated dirce herself dis see pluto discord, apple of, see eris. discordia, see eris. dodona, site of an oracle of zeus (jupiter) dorceus, a dog of diana doris, wife of nereus dragon's teeth sown by cadmus druids, ancient celtic priests dryades (or dryads), see wood nymphs dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form of the nymph lotis dubricius, bishop of caerleon, dudon, a knight, comrade of astolpho, dunwallo molmu'tius, british king and lawgiver durindana, sword of orlando or rinaldo dwarfs in wagner's nibelungen ring e earth (gaea); goddess of the ebudians, the echo, nymph of diana, shunned by narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice ecklenlied, the eddas, norse mythological records, ederyn, son of nudd egena, nymph of the fountain eisteddfod, session of welsh bards and minstrels electra, the lost one of the pleiades, also, sister of orestes eleusian mysteries, instituted by ceres, and calculated to awaken feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future eleusis, grecian city elgin marbles, greek sculptures from the parthenon of athens, now in british museum, london, placed there by lord elgin eliaures, enchanter elidure, a king of britain elis, ancient greek city elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against thor elphin, son of gwyddiro elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil, some good elvidnir, the ball of hela elysian fields, the land of the blest elysian plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram. hither favored heroes, like menelaus, pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. in the latin poets elysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed embla, the first woman enseladus, giant defeated by jupiter endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by diana enid, wife of geraint enna, vale of home of proserpine enoch, the patriarch epidaurus, a town in argolis, on the saronic gulf, chief seat of the worship of aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town epimetheus, son of iapetus, husband of pandora, with his brother prometheus took part in creation of man epirus, country to the west of thessaly, lying along the adriatic sea epopeus, a sailor erato, one of the muses erbin of cornwall, father of geraint erebus, son of chaos, region of darkness, entrance to hades eridanus, river erinys, one of the furies eriphyle, sister of polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her husband was slain eris (discordia), goddess of discord. at the wedding of peleus and thetis, eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "for the fairest," which was claimed by hera (juno), aphrodite (venus) and athena (minerva) paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to aphrodite erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine eros see cupid erytheia, island eryx, a mount, haunt of venus esepus, river in paphlagonia estrildis, wife of locrine, supplanting divorced guendolen eteocles, son of oeipus and jocasta etruscans, ancient people of italy, etzel, king of the huns euboic sea, where hercules threw lichas, who brought him the poisoned shirt of nessus eude, king of aquitaine, ally of charles martel eumaeus, swineherd of aeeas eumenides, also called erinnyes, and by the romans furiae or diraae, the avenging deities, see furies euphorbus, a trojan, killed by menelaus euphros'yne, one of the graces europa, daughter of the phoenician king agenor, by zeus the mother of minos, rhadamanthus, and sarpedon eurus, the east wind euyalus, a gallant trojan soldier, who with nisus entered the grecian camp, both being slain, eurydice, wife of orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by a snake and borne to tartarus, where orpheus sought her and was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her following him, but he did, and she returned to the shades, eurylochus, a companion of ulysses, eurynome, female titan, wife of ophlon eurystheus, taskmaster of hercules, eurytion, a centaur (see hippodamia), euterpe, muse who presided over music, evadne, wife of capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and perished with him evander, arcadian chief, befriending aeneas in italy, evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of branwen, excalibar, sword of king arthur, f fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the solar theory simply the darkness who steals the day, falerina, an enchantress, fasolt, a giant, brother of fafner, and killed by him, "fasti," ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, fata morgana, a mirage fates, the three, described as daughters of night--to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of zeus and themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were clo'tho, who spun the thread of life, lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and at'ropos, who cut it off fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail faunus, son of picus, grandson of saturnus, and father of latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and also as a giver of oracles favonius, the west wind fear fenris, a wolf, the son of loki the evil principle of scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except when chained fensalir, freya's palace, called the hall of the sea, where were brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by death ferragus, a giant, opponent of orlando ferrau, one of charlemagne's knights ferrex. brother of porrex, the two sons of leir fire worshippers, of ancient persia, see parsees flollo, roman tribune in gaul flora, roman goddess of flowers and spring flordelis, fair maiden beloved by florismart florismart, sir, a brave knight, flosshilda, one of the rhine daughters fortunate fields fortunate islands (see elysian plain) forum, market place and open square for public meetings in rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc francus, son of histion, grandson of japhet, great grandson of noah, legendary ancestor of the franks, or french freki, one of odin's two wolves frey, or freyr, god of the sun freya, norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers fricka, goddess of marriage frigga, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine, rain, and harvest froh, one of the norse gods fronti'no, rogero's horse furies (erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named alecto, megaeira, and tisiphone fusberta, rinaldo's sword g gaea, or ge, called tellus by the romans, the personification of the earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom chaos, and gave birth to uranus (heaven) and pontus (sea) gahariet, knight of arthur's court gaheris, knight galafron, king of cathay, father of angelica galahad, sir, the pure knight of arthur's round table, who safely took the siege perilous (which see) galatea, a nereid or sea nymph galatea, statue carved and beloved by pygmalion galen, greek physician and philosophical writer gallehant, king of the marches games, national athletic contests in greece--olympian, at olympia, pythian, near delphi, seat of apollo's oracle, isthmian, on the corinthian isthmus, nemean, at nemea in argolis gan, treacherous duke of maganza ganelon of mayence, one of charlemagne's knights ganges, river in india gano, a peer of charlemagne ganymede, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to olympus that he might fill the cup of zeus and live among the immortal gods gareth, arthur's knight gaudisso, sultan gaul, ancient france gautama, prince, the buddha gawain, arthur's knight gawl, son of clud, suitor for rhiannon gemini (see castor), constellation created by jupiter from the twin brothers after death, genghis khan, tartar conqueror genius, in roman belief, the protective spirit of each individual man, see juno geoffrey of mon'mouth, translator into latin of the welsh history of the kings of britain ( ) geraint, a knight of king arthur gerda, wife of frey geri, one of odin's two wolves geryon, a three bodied monster gesnes, navigator sent for isoude the fair giallar horn, the trumpet that heimdal will blow at the judgment day giants, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in wagner's nibelungen ring gibichung race, ancestors of alberich gibraltar, great rock and town at southwest corner of spain (see pillars of hercules) gildas, a scholar of arthur's court girard, son of duke sevinus glastonbury, where arthur died glaucus, a fisherman, loving scylla gleipnir, magical chain on the wolf fenris glewlwyd, arthur's porter golden fleece, of ram used for escape of children of athamas, named helle and phryxus (which see), after sacrifice of ram to jupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by jason and argonauts (which see, also helle) goneril, daughter of leir gordian knot, tying up in temple the wagon of gordius, he who could untie it being destined to be lord of asia, it was cut by alexander the great, gordius, a countryman who, arriving in phrygia in a wagon, was made king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, medusa, the most famous, slain by perseus gorlois, duke of tintadel gouvernail, squire of isabella, queen of lionesse, protector of her son tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood graal, the holy, cup from which the saviour drank at last supper, taken by joseph of arimathea to europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a sacred quest for arthur's knights graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by refinement and gentleness; they were aglaia (brilliance), euphrosyne (joy), and thalia (bloom) gradas'so, king of sericane graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the gorgons, with one movable eye and one tooth between the three grand lama, buddhist pontiff in thibet grendel, monster slain by beowulf gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the rhipaean mountains, between the hyperboreans and the one eyed arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the north, guebers, persian fire worshippers, guendolen, wife of locrine, guenevere, wife of king arthur, beloved by launcelot, guerin, lord of vienne, father of oliver, guiderius, son of cymbeline, guillamurius, king in ireland, guimier, betrothed of caradoc, gullinbursti, the boar drawing frey's car, gulltopp, heimdell's horse, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, ganther, burgundian king, brother of kriemhild, gutrune, half sister to hagen, gwern son of matholch and branwen, gwernach the giant, gwiffert petit, ally of geraint, gwyddno, garanhir, king of gwaelod, gwyr, judge in the court of arthur, gyoll, river, h hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, haemon, son of creon of thebes, and lover of antigone, haemonian city, haemus, mount, northern boundary of thrace, hagan, a principal character in the nibelungen lied, slayer of siegfried, halcyone, daughter of aeneas, and the beloved wife of ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather") hamadryads, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, see nymphs harmonia, daughter of mars and venus, wife of cadmus haroun al raschid, caliph of arabia, contemporary of charlemagne harpies, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food harpocrates, egyptian god, horus hebe, daughter of juno, cupbearer to the gods hebrus, ancient name of river maritzka hecate, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world hector, son of priam and champion of troy hector, one of arthur's knights hector de marys', a knight hecuba, wife of priam, king of troy, to whom she bore hector, paris, and many other children hegira, flight of mahomet from mecca to medina ( ad), era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ heidrun, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in valhalla heimdall, watchman of the gods hel, the lower world of scandinavia, to which were consigned those who had not died in battle hela (death), the daughter of loki and the mistress of the scandinavian hel helen, daughter of jupiter and leda, wife of menelaus, carried off by paris and cause of the trojan war helenus, son of priam and hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers heliades, sisters of phaeton helicon, mount, in greece, residence of apollo and the muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, aganippe and hippocrene helioopolis, city of the sun, in egypt hellas, gieece helle, daughter of thessalian king athamas, who, escaping from cruel father with her brother phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (see golden fleece) hellespont, narrow strait between europe and asia minor, named for helle hengist, saxon invader of britain, ad hephaestos, see vulcan hera, called juno by the romans, a daughter of cronos (saturn) and rhea, and sister and wife of jupiter, see juno hercules, athletic hero, son of jupiter and alcmena, achieved twelve vast labors and many famous deeds hereward the wake, hero of the saxons hermes (mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally hermione, daughter of menelaus and helen hermod, the nimble, son of odin hero, a priestess of venus, beloved of leander herodotus, greek historian hesiod, greek poet hesperia, ancient name for italy hesperides (see apples of the hesperides) hesperus, the evening star (also called day star) hestia, cilled vesta by the romans, the goddess of the hearth hildebrand, german magician and champion hindu triad, brahma, vishnu, and siva hippocrene (see helicon) hippodamia, wife of pirithous, at whose wedding the centaurs offered violence to the bride, causing a great battle hippogriff, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws hippolyta, queen of the amazons hippolytus, son of thesus hippomenes, who won atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden apples thrown for her to histion, son of japhet hodur, blind man, who, fooled by loki, threw a mistletoe twig at baldur, killing him hoel, king of brittany homer, the blind poet of greece, about b c hope (see pandora) horae see hours horsa, with hengist, invader of britain horus, egyptian god of the sun houdain, tristram's dog hringham, baldur's ship hrothgar, king of denmark hugi, who beat thialfi in foot races hugin, one of odin's two ravens hunding, husband of sieglinda huon, son of duke sevinus hyacinthus, a youth beloved by apollo, and accidentally killed by him, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth hyades, nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant bacchus, rewarded by being placed as cluster of stars in the heavens hyale, a nymph of diana hydra, nine headed monster slain by hercules hygeia, goddess of health, daughter of aesculapius hylas, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water hymen, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in bridal songs hymettus, mountain in attica, near athens, celebrated for its marble and its honey hyperboreans, people of the far north hyperion, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of helios, selene, and eos, cattle of, hyrcania, prince of, betrothed to clarimunda hyrieus, king in greece, i iapetus, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of atlas, prometheus, epimetheus, and menoetius, iasius, father of atalanta ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes icaria, island of the aegean sea, one of the sporades icarius, spartan prince, father of penelope icarus, son of daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea icelos, attendant of morpheus icolumkill see iona ida, mount, a trojan hill idaeus, a trojan herald idas, son of aphareus and arene, and brother of lynceus idu'na, wife of bragi igerne, wife of gorlois, and mother, by uther, of arthur iliad, epic poem of the trojan war, by homer ilioheus, a son of niobe ilium see troy illyria, adriatic countries north of greece imogen, daughter of pandrasus, wife of trojan brutus inachus, son of oceanus and tethys, and father of phoroneus and io, also first king of argos, and said to have given his name to the river inachus incubus, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep indra, hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain ino, wife of athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into the sea and was changed to leucothea io, changed to a heifer by jupiter iobates, king of lycia iolaus, servant of hercules iole, sister of dryope iona, or icolmkill, a small northern island near scotland, where st columba founded a missionary monastery ( ad) ionia, coast of asia minor iphigenia, daughter of agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried away by diana iphis, died for love of anaxarete, iphitas, friend of hercules, killed by him iris, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of juno and zeus ironside, arthur's knight isabella, daughter of king of galicia isis, wife of osiris, described as the giver of death isles of the blessed ismarus, first stop of ulysses, returning from trojan war isme'nos, a son of niobe, slain by apollo isolier, friend of rinaldo isoude the fair, beloved of tristram isoude of the white hands, married to tristram isthmian games, see games ithaca, home of ulysses and penelope iulus, son of aeneas ivo, saracen king, befriending rinaldo ixion, once a sovereign of thessaly, sentenced in tartarus to be lashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around j janiculum, roman fortress on the janiculus, a hill on the other side of the tiber janus, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the romans, temple of japhet (iapetus) jason, leader of the argonauts, seeking the golden fleece joseph of arimathea, who bore the holy graal to europe jotunheim, home of the giants in northern mythology jove (zeus), chief god of roman and grecian mythology, see jupiter joyous garde, residence of sir launcelot of the lake juggernaut, hindu deity juno, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (see genius) juno, wife of jupiter, queen of the gods jupiter, jovis pater, father jove, jupiter and jove used interchangeably, at dodona, statue of the olympian jupiter ammon (see ammon) jupiter capitolinus, temple of, preserving the sibylline books justice, see themis k kadyriath, advises king arthur kai, son of kyner kalki, tenth avatar of vishnu kay, arthur's steward and a knight kedalion, guide of orion kerman, desert of kicva, daughter of gwynn gloy kilwich, son of kilydd kilydd, son of prince kelyddon, of wales kneph, spirit or breath knights, training and life of kriemhild, wife of siegfried krishna, eighth avatar of vishnu, hindu deity of fertility in nature and mankind kyner, father of kav kynon, son of clydno l labyrinth, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the minotaur of crete, killed by theseus with aid of ariadne lachesis, one of the fates (which see) lady of the fountain, tale told by kynon laertes, father of ulysses laestrygonians, savages attacking ulysses laius, king of thebes lama, holy man of thibet lampetia, daughter of hyperion laoc'oon, a priest of neptune, in troy, who warned the trojans against the wooden horse (which see), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons, the people listened to the greek spy sinon, and brought the fatal horse into the town laodamia, daughter of acastus and wife of protesilaus laodegan, king of carmalide, helped by arthur and merlin laomedon, king of troy lapithae, thessalonians, whose king had invited the centaurs to his daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the bride lares, household deities larkspur, flower from the blood of ajax latinus, ruler of latium, where aeneas landed in italy latmos, mount, where diana fell in love with endymion latona, mother of apollo launcelot, the most famous knight of the round table lausus, son of mezentius, killed by aeneas lavinia, daughter of latinus and wife of aeneas lavinium, italian city named for lavinia law, see themis leander, a youth of abydos, who, swimming the hellespont to see hero, his love, was drowned lebadea, site of the oracle of trophomus lebynthos, aegean island leda, queen of sparta, wooed by jupiter in the form of a swan leir, mythical king of britain, original of shakespeare's lear lelaps, dog of cephalus lemnos, large island in the aegean sea, sacred to vulcan lemures, the spectres or spirits of the dead leo, roman emperor, greek prince lethe, river of hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness leucadia, a promontory, whence sappho, disappointed in love, was said to have thrown herself into the sea leucothea, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (see ino) lewis, son of charlemagne liber, ancient god of fruitfulness libethra, burial place of orpheus libya, greek name for continent of africa in general libyan desert, in africa libyan oasis lichas, who brought the shirt of nessus to hercules limours, earl of linus, musical instructor of hercules lionel, knight of the round table llyr, king of britain locrine, son of brutus in albion, king of central england loegria, kingdom of (england) logestilla, a wise lady, who entertained rogero and his friends logi, who vanquished loki in an eating contest loki, the satan of norse mythology, son of the giant farbanti lot, king, a rebel chief, subdued by king arthur, then a loyal knight lotis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by dryope lotus eaters, soothed to indolence, companions of ulysses landing among them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they would continue their voyage love (eros) issued from egg of night, and with arrows and torch produced life and joy lucan, one of arthur's knights lucius tiberius, roman procurator in britain demanding tribute from arthur lud, british king, whose capital was called lud's town (london) ludgate, city gate where lud was buried, luned, maiden who guided owain to the lady of the fountain lycahas, a turbulent sailor lycaon, son of priam lycia, a district in southern asia minor lycomodes, king of the dolopians, who treacherously slew theseus lycus, usurping king of thebes lynceus, one of the sons of aegyptus m mabinogeon, plural of mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the welsh mabon, son of modron machaon, son of aesculapius madan, son of guendolen madoc, a forester of king arthur mador, scottish knight maelgan, king who imprisoned elphin maeonia, ancient lydia magi, persian priests mahadeva, same as siva mahomet, great prophet of arabia, born in mecca, ad, proclaimed worship of god instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with arabian dominion, over vast regions in asia, africa, and spain in europe maia, daughter of atlas and pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the pleiades malagigi the enchanter, one of charlemagne's knights maleagans, false knight malvasius, king of iceland mambrino, with invisible helmet manawyd dan, brother of king vran, of london mandricardo, son of agrican mantua, in italy, birthplace of virgil manu, ancestor of mankind marathon, where theseus and pirithous met mark, king of cornwall, husband of isoude the fair maro see virgil marphisa, sister of rogero marsilius, spanish king, treacherous foe of charlemagne marsyas, inventor of the flute, who challenged apollo to musical competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive matsya, the fish, first avatar of vishnu meander, grecian river mede, a, princess and sorceress who aided jason medoro, a young moor, who wins angelica medusa, one of the gorgons megaera, one of the furies melampus, a spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers melanthus, steersman for bacchus meleager, one of the argonauts (see althaea) meliadus, king of lionesse, near cornwall melicertes, infant son of ino. changed to palaemon (see ino, leucothea, and palasmon) melissa, priestess at merlin's tomb melisseus, a cretan king melpomene, one of the muses memnon, the beautiful son of tithonus and eos (aurora), and king of the ethiopians, slain in trojan war memphis, egyptian city menelaus, son of king of sparta, husband of helen menoeceus, son of creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for his father mentor, son of alcimus and a faithful friend of ulysses mercury (see hermes) merlin, enchanter merope, daughter of king of chios, beloved by orion mesmerism, likened to curative oracle of aesculapius at epidaurus metabus, father of camilla metamorphoses, ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic mythology metanira, a mother, kind to ceres seeking proserpine metempsychosis, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women in forms of animals or human beings metis, prudence, a spouse of jupiter mezentius, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing aeneas in italy midas midgard, the middle world of the norsemen midgard serpent, a sea monster, child of loki milky way, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace of the gods milo, a great athlete mlon, father of orlando milton, john, great english poet, whose history of england is here largely used mime, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient german mythology minerva (athene), daughter of jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom minos, king of crete mino taur, monster killed by theseus mistletoe, fatal to baldur mnemosyne, one of the muses modesty, statue to modred, nephew of king arthur moly, plant, powerful against sorcery momus, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men monad, the "unit" of pythagoras monsters, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men montalban, rinaldo's castle month, the, attendant upon the sun moon, goddess of, see diana moraunt, knight, an irish champion morgana, enchantress, the lady of the lake in "orlando furioso," same as morgane le fay in tales of arthur morgane le fay, queen of norway, king arthur's sister, an enchantress morgan tud, arthur's chief physician morpheus, son of sleep and god of dreams morte d'arthur, romance, by sir thomas mallory mulciber, latin name of vulcan mull, island of munin, one of odin's two ravens musaeus, sacred poet, son of orpheus muses, the, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--calliope, epic poetry, clio, history, erato, love poetry, euterpe, lyric poetry; melpomene, tragedy, polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song terpsichore, choral song and dance, thalia, comedy and idyls, urania, astronomy muspelheim, the fire world of the norsemen mycenas, ancient grecian city, of which agamemnon was king myrddin (merlin) myrmidons, bold soldiers of achilles mysia, greek district on northwest coast of asia minor mythology, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples n naiads, water nymphs namo, duke of bavaria, one of charlemagne's knights nanna, wife of baldur nanters, british king nantes, site of caradoc's castle nape, a dog of diana narcissus, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water nausicaa, daughter of king alcinous, who befriended ulysses nausithous, king of phaeacians naxos, island of negus, king of abyssinia nemea, forest devastated by a lion killed by hercules nemean games, held in honor of jupiter and hercules nemean lion, killed by hercules nemesis, goddess of vengeance nennius, british combatant of caesar neoptolemus, son of achilles nepenthe, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress nephele, mother of phryxus and helle nephthys, egyptian goddess neptune, identical with poseidon, god of the sea nereids, sea nymphs, daughters of nereus and doris nereus, a sea god nessus, a centaur killed by hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a robe or shirt steeped in the blood of nessus, which poisoned him nestor, king of pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge of war nibelungen hoard, treasure seized by siegfried from the nibelungs, buried in the rhine by hagan after killing siegfried, and lost when hagan was killed by kriemhild, theme of wagner's four music dramas, "the ring of the nibelungen," nibelungen lied, german epic, giving the same nature myth as the norse volsunga saga, concerning the hoard nibelungen ring, wagner's music dramas nibelungs, the, a race of northern dwarfs nidhogge, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead niffleheim, mist world of the norsemen, the hades of absent spirits nile, egyptian river niobe, daughter of tantalus, proud queen of thebes, whose seven sons and seven daughters were killed by apollo and diana, at which amphion, her husband, killed himself, and niobe wept until she was turned to stone nisus, king of megara noah, as legendary ancestor of french, roman, german, and british peoples noman, name assumed by ulysses norns, the three scandinavian fates, urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), and skuld (the future) nothung, magic sword notus, southwest wind nox, daughter of chaos and sister of erebus, personification of night numa, second king of rome nymphs, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature dryads and hamadryads, tree nymphs, naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, nereids, sea nymphs oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs o oceanus, a titan, ruling watery elements ocyroe, a prophetess, daughter of chiron oderic odin, chief of the norse gods odyar, famous biscayan hero odysseus see ulysses odyssey, homer's poem, relating the wanderings of odysseus (ulysses) on returning from trojan war oedipus, theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the sphinx (which see), becoming king of thebes oeneus, king of calydon oenone, nymph, married by paris in his youth, and abandoned for helen oenopion, king of chios oeta, mount, scene of hercules' death ogier, the dane, one of the paladins of charlemagne oliver, companion of orlando olwen, wife of kilwich olympia, a small plain in elis, where the olympic games were celebrated olympiads, periods between olympic games (four years) olympian games, see games olympus, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which zeus was the head omphale, queen of lydia, daughter of iardanus and wife of tmolus ophion, king of the titans, who ruled olympus till dethroned by the gods saturn and rhea ops see rhea oracles, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a priest or priestess orc, a sea monster, foiled by rogero when about to devour angelica oreads, nymphs of mountains and hills orestes, son of agamemnon and clytemnestra, because of his crime in killing his mother, he was pursued by the furies until purified by minerva orion, youthful giant, loved by diana, constellation orithyia, a nymph, seized by boreas orlando, a famous knight and nephew of charlemagne ormuzd (greek, oromasdes), son of supreme being, source of good as his brother ahriman (arimanes) was of evil, in persian or zoroastrian religion orpheus, musician, son of apollo and calliope, see eurydice osiris, the most beneficent of the egyptian gods ossa, mountain of thessaly ossian, celtic poet of the second or third century ovid, latin poet (see metamorphoses) owain, knight at king arthur's court ozanna, a knight of arthur p pactolus, river whose sands were changed to gold by midas paeon, a name for both apollo and aesculapius, gods of medicine, pagans, heathen paladins or peers, knights errant palaemon, son of athamas and ino palamedes, messenger sent to call ulysses to the trojan war palamedes, saracen prince at arthur's court palatine, one of rome's seven hills pales, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures palinurus, faithful steersman of aeeas palladium, properly any image of pallas athene, but specially applied to an image at troy, which was stolen by ulysses and diomedes pallas, son of evander pallas a the'ne (minerva) pampha gus, a dog of diana pan, god of nature and the universe panathenaea, festival in honor of pallas athene (minerva) pandean pipes, musical instrument of reeds, made by pan in memory of syrinx pandora (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only hope, which remained pandrasus, a king in greece, who persecuted trojan exiles under brutus, great grandson of aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter imogen as brutus' wife, emigrated to albion (later called britain) panope, plain of panthus, alleged earlier incarnation of pythagoras paphlagnia, ancient country in asia minor, south of black sea paphos, daughter of pygmalion and galatea (both of which, see) parcae see fates pariahs, lowest caste of hindus paris, son of priam and hecuba, who eloped with helen (which. see) parnassian laurel, wreath from parnassus, crown awarded to successful poets parnassus, mountain near delphi, sacred to apollo and the muses parsees, persian fire worshippers (zoroastrians), of whom there are still thousands in persia and india parthenon, the temple of athene parthenos ("the virgin") on the acropolis of athens passebreul, tristram's horse patroclus, friend of achilles, killed by hector pecheur, king, uncle of perceval peers, the peg a sus, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of medusa peleus, king of the myrmidons, father of achilles by thetis pelias, usurping uncle of jason pelion, mountain pelleas, knight of arthur penates, protective household deities of the romans pendragon, king of britain, elder brother of uther pendragon, who succeeded him penelope, wife of ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return from the trojan war, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she had woven by day peneus, river god, river penthesilea, queen of amazons pentheus, king of thebes, having resisted the introduction of the worship of bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god penus, roman house pantry, giving name to the penates pepin, father of charlemagne peplus, sacred robe of minerva perceval, a great knight of arthur perdix, inventor of saw and compasses periander, king of corinuh, friend of arion periphetes, son of vulcan, killed by theseus persephone, goddess of vegetation, see pioserpine perseus, son of jupiter and danae, slayer of the gorgon medusa, deliverer of andromeda from a sea monster, , , phaeacians, people who entertained ulysses phaedra, faithless and cruel wife of theseus phaethusa, sister of phaeton, phaeton, son of phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun chariot phantasos, a son of somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men phaon, beloved by sappho phelot, knight of wales pheredin, friend of tristram, unhappy lover of isoude phidias, famous greek sculptor philemon, husband of baucis philoctetes, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of hercules philoe, burial place of osiris phineus, betrothed to andromeda phlegethon, fiery river of hades phocis phoebe, one of the sisters of phaeton phoebus (apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god phoenix, a messenger to achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes phorbas, a companion of aeneas, whose form was assumed by neptune in luring palinuras the helmsman from his roost phryxus, brother of helle pinabel, knight pillars of hercules, two mountains--calpe, now the rock of gibraltar, southwest corner of spain in europe, and abyla, facing it in africa across the strait pindar, famous greek poet pindus, grecian mountain pirene, celebrated fountain at corinth pirithous, king of the lapithae in thessaly, and friend of theseus, husband of hippodamia pleasure, daughter of cupid and psyche pleiades, seven of diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost plenty, the horn of plexippus, brother of althea pliny, roman naturalist pluto, the same as hades, dis, etc. god of the infernal regions plutus, god of wealth po, italian river pole star polites, youngest son of priam of troy pollux, castor and (dioscuri, the twins) (see castor) polydectes, king of seriphus polydore, slain kinsman of aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that bled when broken polyhymnia, muse of oratory and sacred song polyidus, soothsayer polynices, king of thebes polyphemus, giant son of neptune polyxena, daughter of king priam of troy pomona, goddess of fruit trees (see vertumnus) porrex and fer'rex, sons of leir, king of britain portunus, roman name for palaemon poseidon (neptune), ruler of the ocean precipice, threshold of helas hall prester john, a rumored priest or presbyter, a christian pontiff in upper asia, believed in but never found priam, king of troy priwen, arthur's shield procris, beloved but jealous wife of cephalus procrustes, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself served by theseus proetus, jealous of bellerophon prometheus, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use proserpine, the same as persephone, goddess of all growing things, daughter of ceres, carried off by pluto protesilaus, slain by hector the trojan, allowed by the gods to return for three hours' talk with his widow laodomia proteus, the old man of the sea prudence (metis), spouse of jupiter pryderi, son of pwyll psyche, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by cupid (love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality puranas, hindu scriptures pwyll, prince of dyved pygmalion, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life by venus, brother of queen dido pygmies, nation of dwarfs, at war with the cranes pylades, son of straphius, friend of orestes pyramus, who loved thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to meet in the near by woods, where pyramus, finding a bloody veil and thinking thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed herself (burlesqued in shakespeare's "midsummer night's dream") pyrrha, wife of deucalion pyrrhus (neoptolemus), son of achilles pythagoras, greek philosopher ( bc), who thought numbers to be the essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings pythia, priestess of apollo at delphi pythian games pythian oracle python, serpent springing from deluge slum, destroyed by apollo q quirinus (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be romulus, founder of rome r rabican, noted horse ragnarok, the twilight (or ending) of the gods rajputs, minor hindu caste regan, daughter of leir regillus, lake in latium, noted for battle fought near by between the romans and the latins reggio, family from which rogero sprang remus, brother of romulus, founder of rome rhadamanthus, son of jupiter and europa after his death one of the judges in the lower world rhapsodist, professional reciter of poems among the greeks rhea, female titan, wife of saturn (cronos), mother of the chief gods, worshipped in greece and rome rhine, river rhine maidens, or daughters, three water nymphs, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda, set to guard the nibelungen hoard, buried in the rhine rhodes, one of the seven cities claiming to be homer's birthplace rhodope, mountain in thrace rhongomyant, arthur's lance rhoecus, a youth, beloved by a dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness rhiannon, wife of pwyll rinaldo, one of the bravest knights of charlemagne river ocean, flowing around the earth robert de beauvais', norman poet ( ) robin hood, famous outlaw in english legend, about time of richard coeur de lion rockingham, forest of rodomont, king of algiers rogero, noted saracen knight roland (orlando), see orlando romances romanus, legendary great grandson of noah rome romulus, founder of rome ron, arthur's lance ronces valles', battle of round table king arthur's instituted by merlin the sage for pendragon, arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by arthur and his knights runic characters, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early teutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone rutulians, an ancient people in italy, subdued at an early period by the romans ryence, king in ireland s sabra, maiden for whom severn river was named, daughter of locrine and estrildis thrown into river severn by locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named sabrina sacripant, king of circassia saffire, sir, knight of arthur sagas, norse tales of heroism, composed by the skalds sagramour, knight of arthur st. michael's mount, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of brittany, opposite cornwall sakyasinha, the lion, epithet applied to buddha salamander, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire salamis, grecian city salmoneus, son of aeolus and enarete and brother of sisyphus salomon, king of brittany, at charlemagne's court samhin, or "fire of peace," a druidical festival samian sage (pythagoras) samos, island in the aegean sea samothracian gods, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in samothrace samson, hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of hercules san greal (see graal, the holy) sappho, greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of leucadia in disappointed love for phaon saracens, followers of mahomet sarpedon, son of jupiter and europa, killed by patroclus saturn (cronos) saturnalia, a annual festival held by romans in honor of saturn saturnia, an ancient name of italy satyrs, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat scaliger, famous german scholar of th century scandinavia, mythology of, giving account of northern gods, heroes, etc scheria, mythical island, abode of the phaeacians schrimnir, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of valhalla becoming whole every morning scio, one of the island cities claiming to be homer's birthplace scopas, king of thessaly scorpion, constellation scylla, sea nymph beloved by glaucus, but changed by jealous circe to a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the sicilian coast, facing the whirlpool charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two, also, daughter of king nisus of megara, who loved minos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a fair virgin of sicily, friend of sea nymph galatea scyros, where theseus was slain scythia, country lying north of euxine sea semele, daughter of cadmus and, by jupiter, mother of bacchus semiramis, with ninus the mythical founder of the assyrian empire of nineveh senapus, king of abyssinia, who entertained astolpho serapis, or hermes, egyptian divinity of tartarus and of medicine serfs, slaves of the land seriphus, island in the aegean sea, one of the cyclades serpent (northern constellation) sestos, dwelling of hero (which see also leander) "seven against thebes," famous greek expedition severn river, in england sevinus, duke of guienne shalott, the lady of shatriya, hindu warrior caste sherasmin, french chevalier sibyl, prophetess of cumae sichaeus, husband of dido seige perilous, the chair of purity at arthur's round table, fatal to any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the sangreal (see galahad) siegfried, young king of the netherlands, husband of kriemhild, she boasted to brunhild that siegfried had aided gunther to beat her in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and brunhild, in anger, employed hagan to murder siegfried. as hero of wagner's "valkyrie," he wins the nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts brunhild, and is slain by hagan sieglinda, wife of hunding, mother of siegfried by siegmund siegmund, father of siegfried sigtryg, prince, betrothed of king alef's daughter, aided by hereward siguna, wife of loki silenus, a satyr, school master of bacchus silures (south wales) silvia, daughter of latin shepherd silvius, grandson of aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his son brutus simonides, an early poet of greece sinon, a greek spy, who persuaded the trojans to take the wooden horse into their city sirens, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the sea, passing their island, ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not yield to their music sirius, the dog of orion, changed to the dog star sisyphus, condemned in tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again siva, the destroyer, third person of the hindu triad of gods skalds, norse bards and poets skidbladnir, freyr's ship skirnir, frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him gerda for his wife skrymir, a giant, utgard loki in disguise, who fooled thor in athletic feats skuld, the norn of the future sleep, twin brother of death sleipnir, odin's horse sobrino, councillor to agramant somnus, child of nox, twin brother of mors, god of sleep sophocles, greek tragic dramatist south wind see notus spar'ta, capital of lacedaemon sphinx, a monster, waylaying the road to thebes and propounding riddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed herself in rage when aedipus guessed aright spring stonehenge, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of pendragon strophius, father of pylades stygian realm, hades stygian sleep, escaped from the beauty box sent from hades to venus by hand of psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into unconsciousness styx, river, bordering hades, to be crossed by all the dead sudras, hindu laboring caste surtur, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their destruction (norse mythology) surya, hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the greek helios sutri, orlando's birthplace svadilfari, giant's horse swan, leda and sybaris, greek city in southern italy, famed for luxury sylvanus, latin divinity identified with pan symplegades, floating rocks passed by the argonauts syrinx, nymph, pursued by pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch of reeds (see pandean pipes) t tacitus, roman historian taenarus, greek entrance to lower regions tagus, river in spain and portugal taliesin, welsh bard tanais, ancient name of river don tantalus, wicked king, punished in hades by standing in water that retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he would eat tarchon, etruscan chief tarentum, italian city tarpeian rock, in rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled tarquins, a ruling family in early roman legend tauris, grecian city, site of temple of diana (see iphigenia) taurus, a mountain tartarus, place of confinement of titans, etc, originally a black abyss below hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with hades teirtu, the harp of telamon, greek hero and adventurer, father of ajax telemachus, son of ulysses and penelope tellus, another name for rhea tenedos, an island in aegean sea terminus, roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers terpsichore, muse of dancing terra, goddess of the earth tethys, goddess of the sea teucer, ancient king of the trojans thalia, one of the three graces thamyris, thracian bard, who challenged the muses to competition in singing, and, defeated, was blinded thaukt, loki disguised as a hag thebes, city founded by cadmus and capital of boeotia themis, female titan, law counsellor of jove theodora, sister of prince leo theron, one of diana's dogs thersites, a brawler, killed by achilles thescelus, foe of perseus, turned to stone by sight of gorgon's head theseum, athenian temple in honor of theseus theseus, son of aegeus and aethra, king of athens, a great hero of many adventures thessaly thestius, father of althea thetis, mother of achilles thialfi, thor's servant this'be, babylonian maiden beloved by pyramus thor, the thunderer, of norse mythology, most popular of the gods thrace thrina'kia, island pasturing hyperion's cattle, where ulysses landed, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by lightning thrym, giant, who buried thor's hammer thucydides, greek historian tiber, river flowing through rome tiber, father, god of the river tigris, river tintadel, castle of, residence of king mark of cornwall tiresias, a greek soothsayer tisiphone, one of the furies titans, the sons and daughters of uranus (heaven) and gaea (earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them tithonus, trojan prince tityus, giant in tartarus tmolus, a mountain god tortoise, second avatar of vishnu tours, battle of (see abdalrahman and charles martel) toxeus, brother of melauger's mother, who snatched from atalanta her hunting trophy, and was slain by melauger, who had awarded it to her triad, the hindu triads, welsh poems trimurti, hindu triad triptol'emus, son of celeus , and who, made great by ceres, founded her worship in eleusis tristram, one of arthur's knights, husband of isoude of the white hands, lover of isoude the fair, triton, a demi god of the sea, son of poseidon (neptune) and amphitrite troezen, greek city of argolis trojan war trojanova, new troy, city founded in britain (see brutus, and lud) trophonius, oracle of, in boeotia troubadours, poets and minstrels of provence, in southern france trouvers', poets and minstrels of northern france troy, city in asia minor, ruled by king priam, whose son, paris, stole away helen, wife of menelaus the greek, resulting in the trojan war and the destruction of troy troy, fall of turnus, chief of the rutulianes in italy, unsuccessful rival of aeneas for lavinia turpin, archbishop of rheims turquine, sir, a great knight, foe of arthur, slain by sir launcelot typhon, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under mt. aetna tyr, norse god of battles tyre, phoenician city governed by dido tyrians tyrrheus, herdsman of king turnus in italy, the slaying of whose daughter's stag aroused war upon aeneas and his companions u uberto, son of galafron ulysses (greek, odysseus), hero of the odyssey unicorn, fabled animal with a single horn urania, one of the muses, a daughter of zeus by mnemosyne urdur, one of the norns or fates of scandinavia, representing the past usk, british river utgard, abode of the giant utgard loki utgard lo'ki, king of the giants (see skrymir) uther (uther pendragon), king of britain and father of arthur, uwaine, knight of arthur's court v vaissyas, hindu caste of agriculturists and traders valhalla, hall of odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes valkyrie, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods (norse), odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for valhalla and serve them at their feasts ve, brother of odin vedas, hindu sacred scriptures venedotia, ancient name for north wales venus (aphrodite), goddess of beauty venus de medici, famous antique statue in uffizi gallery, florence, italy verdandi, the present, one of the norns vertumnus, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won the love of pomona vesta, daughter of cronos and rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth vestals, virgin priestesses in temple of vesta vesuvius, mount, volcano near naples villains, peasants in the feudal scheme vigrid, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself vili, brother of odin and ve virgil, celebrated latin poet (see aeneid) virgo, constellation of the virgin, representing astraea, goddess of innocence and purity vishnu, the preserver, second of the three chief hindu gods viviane, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage merlin and imprisoned him in an enchanted wood volscens, rutulian troop leader who killed nisus and euryalus volsung, a saga, an icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as the nibelungen lied vortigern, usurping king of britain, defeated by pendragon , vulcan (greek, haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges under aetna, husband of venus vya'sa, hindu sage w wain, the, constellation wellgunda, one of the rhine-daughters welsh language western ocean winds, the winter woden, chief god in the norse mythology, anglo saxon for odin woglinda, one of the rhine-daughters woman, creation of wooden horse, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of troy as a pretended offering to minerva when the greeks feigned to sail away, accepted by the trojans (see sinon, and laocoon), brought into the city, and at night emptied of the hidden greek soldiers, who destroyed the town wood nymphs wotan, old high german form of odin x xanthus, river of asia minor y yama, hindu god of the infernal regions year, the ygdrasil, great ash-tree, supposed by norse mythology to support the universe ymir, giant, slain by odin ynywl, earl, host of geraint, father of enid york, britain yserone, niece of arthur, mother of caradoc yspa da den pen'kawr, father of olwen z zendavesta, persian sacred scriptures zephyrus, god of the south wind, zerbino, a knight, son of the king of scotland zetes, winged warrior, companion of theseus zethus, son of jupiter and antiope, brother of amphion. see dirce zeus, see jupiter zoroaster, founder of the persian religion, which was dominant in western asia from about bc to about ad, and is still held by many thousands in persia and in india a study in magic and religion _third edition_ part vii balder the beautiful vol. i balder the beautiful the fire-festivals of europe and the doctrine of the external soul j.g. frazer, d.c.l., ll.d., litt.d. fellow of trinity college, cambridge professor of social anthropology in the university of liverpool. in two volumes vol. i preface in this concluding part of _the golden bough_ i have discussed the problem which gives its title to the whole work. if i am right, the golden bough over which the king of the wood, diana's priest at aricia, kept watch and ward was no other than a branch of mistletoe growing on an oak within the sacred grove; and as the plucking of the bough was a necessary prelude to the slaughter of the priest, i have been led to institute a parallel between the king of the wood at nemi and the norse god balder, who was worshipped in a sacred grove beside the beautiful sogne fiord of norway and was said to have perished by a stroke of mistletoe, which alone of all things on earth or in heaven could wound him. on the theory here suggested both balder and the king of the wood personified in a sense the sacred oak of our aryan forefathers, and both had deposited their lives or souls for safety in the parasite which sometimes, though rarely, is found growing on an oak and by the very rarity of its appearance excites the wonder and stimulates the devotion of ignorant men. though i am now less than ever disposed to lay weight on the analogy between the italian priest and the norse god, i have allowed it to stand because it furnishes me with a pretext for discussing not only the general question of the external soul in popular superstition, but also the fire-festivals of europe, since fire played a part both in the myth of balder and in the ritual of the arician grove. thus balder the beautiful in my hands is little more than a stalking-horse to carry two heavy pack-loads of facts. and what is true of balder applies equally to the priest of nemi himself, the nominal hero of the long tragedy of human folly and suffering which has unrolled itself before the readers of these volumes, and on which the curtain is now about to fall. he, too, for all the quaint garb he wears and the gravity with which he stalks across the stage, is merely a puppet, and it is time to unmask him before laying him up in the box. to drop metaphor, while nominally investigating a particular problem of ancient mythology, i have really been discussing questions of more general interest which concern the gradual evolution of human thought from savagery to civilization. the enquiry is beset with difficulties of many kinds, for the record of man's mental development is even more imperfect than the record of his physical development, and it is harder to read, not only by reason of the incomparably more subtle and complex nature of the subject, but because the reader's eyes are apt to be dimmed by thick mists of passion and prejudice, which cloud in a far less degree the fields of comparative anatomy and geology. my contribution to the history of the human mind consists of little more than a rough and purely provisional classification of facts gathered almost entirely from printed sources. if there is one general conclusion which seems to emerge from the mass of particulars, i venture to think that it is the essential similarity in the working of the less developed human mind among all races, which corresponds to the essential similarity in their bodily frame revealed by comparative anatomy. but while this general mental similarity may, i believe, be taken as established, we must always be on our guard against tracing to it a multitude of particular resemblances which may be and often are due to simple diffusion, since nothing is more certain than that the various races of men have borrowed from each other many of their arts and crafts, their ideas, customs, and institutions. to sift out the elements of culture which a race has independently evolved and to distinguish them accurately from those which it has derived from other races is a task of extreme difficulty and delicacy, which promises to occupy students of man for a long time to come; indeed so complex are the facts and so imperfect in most cases is the historical record that it may be doubted whether in regard to many of the lower races we shall ever arrive at more than probable conjectures. since the last edition of _the golden bough_ was published some thirteen years ago, i have seen reason to change my views on several matters discussed in this concluding part of the work, and though i have called attention to these changes in the text, it may be well for the sake of clearness to recapitulate them here. in the first place, the arguments of dr. edward westermarck have satisfied me that the solar theory of the european fire-festivals, which i accepted from w. mannhardt, is very slightly, if at all, supported by the evidence and is probably erroneous. the true explanation of the festivals i now believe to be the one advocated by dr. westermarck himself, namely that they are purificatory in intention, the fire being designed not, as i formerly held, to reinforce the sun's light and heat by sympathetic magic, but merely to burn or repel the noxious things, whether conceived as material or spiritual, which threaten the life of man, of animals, and of plants. this aspect of the fire-festivals had not wholly escaped me in former editions; i pointed it out explicitly, but, biassed perhaps by the great authority of mannhardt, i treated it as secondary and subordinate instead of primary and dominant. out of deference to mannhardt, for whose work i entertain the highest respect, and because the evidence for the purificatory theory of the fires is perhaps not quite conclusive, i have in this edition repeated and even reinforced the arguments for the solar theory of the festivals, so that the reader may see for himself what can be said on both sides of the question and may draw his own conclusion; but for my part i cannot but think that the arguments for the purificatory theory far outweigh the arguments for the solar theory. dr. westermarck based his criticisms largely on his own observations of the mohammedan fire-festivals of morocco, which present a remarkable resemblance to those of christian europe, though there seems no reason to assume that herein africa has borrowed from europe or europe from africa. so far as europe is concerned, the evidence tends strongly to shew that the grand evil which the festivals aimed at combating was witchcraft, and that they were conceived to attain their end by actually burning the witches, whether visible or invisible, in the flames. if that was so, the wide prevalence and the immense popularity of the fire-festivals provides us with a measure for estimating the extent of the hold which the belief in witchcraft had on the european mind before the rise of christianity or rather of rationalism; for christianity, both catholic and protestant, accepted the old belief and enforced it in the old way by the faggot and the stake. it was not until human reason at last awoke after the long slumber of the middle ages that this dreadful obsession gradually passed away like a dark cloud from the intellectual horizon of europe. yet we should deceive ourselves if we imagined that the belief in witchcraft is even now dead in the mass of the people; on the contrary there is ample evidence to show that it only hibernates under the chilling influence of rationalism, and that it would start into active life if that influence were ever seriously relaxed. the truth seems to be that to this day the peasant remains a pagan and savage at heart; his civilization is merely a thin veneer which the hard knocks of life soon abrade, exposing the solid core of paganism and savagery below. the danger created by a bottomless layer of ignorance and superstition under the crust of civilized society is lessened, not only by the natural torpidity and inertia of the bucolic mind, but also by the progressive decrease of the rural as compared with the urban population in modern states; for i believe it will be found that the artisans who congregate in towns are far less retentive of primitive modes of thought than their rustic brethren. in every age cities have been the centres and as it were the lighthouses from which ideas radiate into the surrounding darkness, kindled by the friction of mind with mind in the crowded haunts of men; and it is natural that at these beacons of intellectual light all should partake in some measure of the general illumination. no doubt the mental ferment and unrest of great cities have their dark as well as their bright side; but among the evils to be apprehended from them the chances of a pagan revival need hardly be reckoned. another point on which i have changed my mind is the nature of the great aryan god whom the romans called jupiter and the greeks zeus. whereas i formerly argued that he was primarily a personification of the sacred oak and only in the second place a personification of the thundering sky, i now invert the order of his divine functions and believe that he was a sky-god before he came to be associated with the oak. in fact, i revert to the traditional view of jupiter, recant my heresy, and am gathered like a lost sheep into the fold of mythological orthodoxy. the good shepherd who has brought me back is my friend mr. w. warde fowler. he has removed the stone over which i stumbled in the wilderness by explaining in a simple and natural way how a god of the thundering sky might easily come to be afterwards associated with the oak. the explanation turns on the great frequency with which, as statistics prove, the oak is struck by lightning beyond any other tree of the wood in europe. to our rude forefathers, who dwelt in the gloomy depths of the primaeval forest, it might well seem that the riven and blackened oaks must indeed be favourites of the sky-god, who so often descended on them from the murky cloud in a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. this change of view as to the great aryan god necessarily affects my interpretation of the king of the wood, the priest of diana at aricia, if i may take that discarded puppet out of the box again for a moment. on my theory the priest represented jupiter in the flesh, and accordingly, if jupiter was primarily a sky-god, his priest cannot have been a mere incarnation of the sacred oak, but must, like the deity whose commission he bore, have been invested in the imagination of his worshippers with the power of overcasting the heaven with clouds and eliciting storms of thunder and rain from the celestial vault. the attribution of weather-making powers to kings or priests is very common in primitive society, and is indeed one of the principal levers by which such personages raise themselves to a position of superiority above their fellows. there is therefore no improbability in the supposition that as a representative of jupiter the priest of diana enjoyed this reputation, though positive evidence of it appears to be lacking. lastly, in the present edition i have shewn some grounds for thinking that the golden bough itself, or in common parlance the mistletoe on the oak, was supposed to have dropped from the sky upon the tree in a flash of lightning and therefore to contain within itself the seed of celestial fire, a sort of smouldering thunderbolt. this view of the priest and of the bough which he guarded at the peril of his life has the advantage of accounting for the importance which the sanctuary at nemi acquired and the treasure which it amassed through the offerings of the faithful; for the shrine would seem to have been to ancient what loreto has been to modern italy, a place of pilgrimage, where princes and nobles as well as commoners poured wealth into the coffers of diana in her green recess among the alban hills, just as in modern times kings and queens vied with each other in enriching the black virgin who from her holy house on the hillside at loreto looks out on the blue adriatic and the purple apennines. such pious prodigality becomes more intelligible if the greatest of the gods was indeed believed to dwell in human shape with his wife among the woods of nemi. these are the principal points on which i have altered my opinion since the last edition of my book was published. the mere admission of such changes may suffice to indicate the doubt and uncertainty which attend enquiries of this nature. the whole fabric of ancient mythology is so foreign to our modern ways of thought, and the evidence concerning it is for the most part so fragmentary, obscure, and conflicting that in our attempts to piece together and interpret it we can hardly hope to reach conclusions that will completely satisfy either ourselves or others. in this as in other branches of study it is the fate of theories to be washed away like children's castles of sand by the rising tide of knowledge, and i am not so presumptuous as to expect or desire for mine an exemption from the common lot. i hold them all very lightly and have used them chiefly as convenient pegs on which to hang my collections of facts. for i believe that, while theories are transitory, a record of facts has a permanent value, and that as a chronicle of ancient customs and beliefs my book may retain its utility when my theories are as obsolete as the customs and beliefs themselves deserve to be. i cannot dismiss without some natural regret a task which has occupied and amused me at intervals for many years. but the regret is tempered by thankfulness and hope. i am thankful that i have been able to conclude at least one chapter of the work i projected a long time ago. i am hopeful that i may not now be taking a final leave of my indulgent readers, but that, as i am sensible of little abatement in my bodily strength and of none in my ardour for study, they will bear with me yet a while if i should attempt to entertain them with fresh subjects of laughter and tears drawn from the comedy and the tragedy of man's endless quest after happiness and truth. j.g. frazer. cambridge, _th october_ . contents preface, pp. v-xii chapter i.--between heaven and earth, pp. - § . _not to touch the earth_, pp. - .--the priest of aricia and the golden bough, _sq._; sacred kings and priests forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, - ; certain persons on certain occasions forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, - ; sacred persons apparently thought to be charged with a mysterious virtue which will run to waste or explode by contact with the ground, _sq._; things as well as persons charged with the mysterious virtue of holiness or taboo and therefore kept from contact with the ground, ; festival of the wild mango, which is not allowed to touch the earth, - ; other sacred objects kept from contact with the ground, _sq._; sacred food not allowed to touch the earth, _sq._; magical implements and remedies thought to lose their virtue by contact with the ground, _sq._; serpents' eggs or snake stones, _sq._; medicinal plants, water, etc., not allowed to touch the earth, _sq._ § . _not to see the sun_, pp. - .--sacred persons not allowed to see the sun, - ; tabooed persons not allowed to see the sun, ; certain persons forbidden to see fire, _sq._; the story of prince sunless, . chapter ii.--the seclusion of girls at puberty, pp. - § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in africa_, pp. - .--girls at puberty forbidden to touch the ground and see the sun, ; seclusion of girls at puberty among the zulus and kindred tribes, ; among the a-kamba of british east africa, ; among the baganda of central africa, _sq._; among the tribes of the tanganyika plateau, _sq._; among the tribes of british central africa, _sq._; abstinence from salt associated with a rule of chastity in many tribes, - ; seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes about lake nyassa and on the zambesi, _sq._; among the thonga of delagoa bay, _sq._; among the caffre tribes of south africa, _sq._; among the bavili of the lower congo, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, new guinea, and indonesia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, - ; in new guinea, borneo, ceram, and the caroline islands, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in the torres straits islands and northern australia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty in mabuiag, torres straits, _sq._; in northern australia, - ; in the islands of torres straits, - . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of north america_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of california, - ; among the indians of washington state, ; among the nootka indians of vancouver island, _sq._; among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands, _sq._; among the tlingit indians of alaska, _sq._; among the tsetsaut and bella coola indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the tinneh indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the tinneh indians of alaska, _sq._; among the thompson indians of british columbia, - ; among the lillooet indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the shuswap indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the delaware and cheyenne indians, _sq._; among the esquimaux, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of south america_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the guaranis, chiriguanos, and lengua indians, _sq._; among the yuracares of bolivia, _sq._; among the indians of the gran chaco, _sq._; among the indians of brazil, _sq._; among the indians of guiana, _sq._; beating the girls and stinging them with ants, ; stinging young men with ants and wasps as an initiatory rite, - ; stinging men and women with ants to improve their character or health or to render them invulnerable, _sq._; in such cases the beating or stinging was originally a purification, not a test of courage and endurance, _sq._; this explanation confirmed by the beating of girls among the banivas of the orinoco to rid them of a demon, - ; symptoms of puberty in a girl regarded as wounds inflicted on her by a demon, . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in india and cambodia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the hindoos, ; in southern india, - ; in cambodia, . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales_, pp. - .--danish story of the girl who might not see the sun, - ; tyrolese story of the girl who might not see the sun, ; modern greek stories of the maid who might not see the sun, _sq._; ancient greek story of danae and its parallel in a kirghiz legend, _sq._; impregnation of women by the sun in legends, _sq._; traces in marriage customs of the belief that women can be impregnated by the sun, ; belief in the impregnation of women by the moon, _sq._ § . _reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty_, pp. - .--the reason for the seclusion of girls at puberty is the dread of menstruous blood, ; dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the aborigines of australia, - ; in torres straits islands, new guinea, galela, and sumatra, _sq._; among the tribes of south africa, _sq._; among the tribes of central and east africa, - ; among the tribes of west africa, ; powerful influence ascribed to menstruous blood in arab legend, _sq._; dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the jews and in syria, _sq._; in india, _sq._; in annam, ; among the indians of central and south america, _sq._; among the indians of north america, - ; among the creek, choctaw, omaha and cheyenne indians, _sq._; among the indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the chippeway indians, _sq._; among the tinneh or déné indians, ; among the carrier indians, - ; similar rules of seclusion enjoined on menstruous women in ancient hindoo, persian, and hebrew codes, - ; superstitions as to menstruous women in ancient and modern europe, _sq._; the intention of secluding menstruous women is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are thought to emanate from them in that condition, ; suspension between heaven and earth, ; the same explanation applies to the similar rules of seclusion observed by divine kings and priests, - ; stories of immortality attained by suspension between heaven and earth, _sq._ chapter iii.--the myth of balder, pp. - how balder, the good and beautiful god, was done to death by a stroke of mistletoe, _sq._; story of balder in the older _edda_, _sq._; story of balder as told by saxo grammaticus, ; balder worshipped in norway, ; legendary death of balder resembles the legendary death of isfendiyar in the epic of firdusi, _sq._; the myth of balder perhaps acted as a magical ceremony; the two main incidents of the myth, namely the pulling of the mistletoe and the burning of the god, have perhaps their counterpart in popular ritual, . chapter iv.--the fire festivals of europe, pp. - § . _the lenten fires_, pp. - .--european custom of kindling bonfires on certain days of the year, dancing round them, leaping over them, and burning effigies in the flames, ; seasons of the year at which the bonfires are lit, _sq._; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in the belgian ardennes, _sq._; in the french department of the ardennes, _sq._; in franche-comté, _sq._; in auvergne, - ; french custom of carrying lighted torches (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent, - ; bonfires on the first sunday of lent in germany and austria, _sq._; "burning the witch," ; burning discs thrown into the air, _sq._; burning wheels rolled down hill, _sq._; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in switzerland, _sq._; burning discs thrown into the air, ; connexion of these fires with the custom of "carrying out death," _sq._ § . _the easter fires_, - .--custom in catholic countries of kindling a holy new fire on easter saturday, marvellous properties ascribed to the embers of the fire, ; effigy of judas burnt in the fire, ; easter fires in bavaria and the abruzzi, ; water as well as fire consecrated at easter in italy, bohemia, and germany, - ; new fire at easter in carinthia, ; thomas kirchmeyer's account of the consecration of fire and water by the catholic church at easter, _sq._; the new fire on easter saturday at florence, _sq._; the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in mexico and south america, _sq._; the new fire on easter saturday in the church of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem, - ; the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in greece, _sq._; the new fire at candlemas in armenia, ; the new fire and the burning of judas at easter are probably relics of paganism, _sq._; new fire at the summer solstice among the incas of peru, ; new fire among the indians of mexico and new mexico, the iroquois, and the esquimaux, - ; new fire in wadai, among the swahili, and in other parts of africa, - ; new fires among the todas and nagas of india, ; new fire in china and japan, _sq._; new fire in ancient greece and rome, ; new fire at hallowe'en among the old celts of ireland, ; new fire on the first of september among the russian peasants, ; the rite of the new fire probably common to many peoples of the mediterranean area before the rise of christianity, _sq._; the pagan character of the easter fire manifest from the superstitions associated with it, such as the belief that the fire fertilizes the fields and protects houses from conflagration and sickness, _sq._; the easter fires in münsterland, oldenburg, the harz mountains, and the altmark, - ; easter fires and the burning of judas or the easter man in bavaria, _sq._; easter fires and "thunder poles" in baden, ; easter fires in holland and sweden, _sq._; the burning of judas in bohemia, . § . _the beltane fires_, pp. - .--the beltane fires on the first of may in the highlands of scotland, - ; john ramsay of ochtertyre, his description of the beltane fires and cakes and the beltane carline, - ; beltane fires and cakes in perthshire, - ; beltane fires in the north-east of scotland to burn the witches, _sq._; beltane fires and cakes in the hebrides, ; beltane fires and cakes in wales, - ; in the isle of man to burn the witches, ; in nottinghamshire, ; in ireland, - ; fires on the eve of may day in sweden, ; in austria and saxony to burn the witches, _sq._ § . _the midsummer fires_, pp. - .--the great season for fire-festivals in europe is midsummer eve or midsummer day, which the church has dedicated to st. john the baptist, _sq._; the bonfires, the torches, and the burning wheels of the festival, ; thomas kirchmeyer's description of the midsummer festival, _sq._; the midsummer fires in germany, - ; burning wheel rolled down hill at konz on the moselle, _sq._; midsummer fires in bavaria, - ; in swabia, _sq._; in baden, - ; in alsace, lorraine, the eifel, the harz district, and thuringia, ; midsummer fires kindled by the friction of wood, _sq._; driving away the witches and demons, ; midsummer fires in silesia, scaring away the witches, _sq._; midsummer fires in denmark and norway, keeping off the witches, ; midsummer fires in sweden, ; midsummer fires in switzerland and austria, _sq._; in bohemia, - ; in moravia, austrian silesia, and the district of cracow, ; among the slavs of russia, ; in prussia and lithuania as a protection against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease, _sq._; in masuren the fire is kindled by the revolution of a wheel, ; midsummer fires among the letts of russia, _sq._; among the south slavs, ; among the magyars, _sq._; among the esthonians, _sq._; among the finns and cheremiss of russia, _sq._; in france, - ; bossuet on the midsummer festival, ; the midsummer fires in brittany, - ; in normandy, the brotherhood of the green wolf at jumièges, _sq._; midsummer fires in picardy, _sq._; in beauce and perche, ; the fires a protection against witchcraft, ; the midsummer fires in the ardennes, the vosges, and the jura, _sq._; in franche-comté, ; in berry and other parts of central france, _sq._; in poitou, _sq._; in the departments of vienne and deux-sèvres and in the provinces of saintonge and aunis, _sq._; in southern france, _sq._; midsummer festival of fire and water in provence, _sq._; midsummer fires in belgium, - ; in england, - ; stow's description of the midsummer fires in london, _sq._; john aubrey on the midsummer fires, ; midsummer fires in cumberland, northumberland, and yorkshire, _sq._; in herefordshire, somersetshire, devonshire, and cornwall, _sq._; in wales and the isle of man, _sq._; in ireland, - ; holy wells resorted to on midsummer eve in ireland, _sq._; midsummer fires in scotland, _sq._; midsummer fires and divination in spain and the azores, _sq._; midsummer fires in corsica and sardinia, ; in the abruzzi, _sq._; in sicily, ; in malta, _sq._; in greece and the greek islands, _sq._; in macedonia and albania, ; in south america, _sq._; among the mohammedans of morocco and algeria, - ; the midsummer festival in north africa comprises rites of water as well as fire, ; similar festival of fire and water at new year in north africa, _sq._; the duplication of the festival probably due to a conflict between the solar calendar of the romans and the lunar calendar of the arabs, _sg._; the midsummer festival in morocco apparently of berber origin, . § . _the autumn fires_, pp. - .--festivals of fire in august, ; "living fire" made by the friction of wood, ; feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth of september at capri and naples, - . § . _the halloween fires_, pp. - .--while the midsummer festival implies observation of the solstices, the celts appear to have divided their year, without regard to the solstices, by the times when they drove their cattle to and from the summer pasture on the first of may and the last of october (hallowe'en), - ; the two great celtic festivals of beltane (may day) and hallowe'en (the last of october), ; hallowe'en seems to have marked the beginning of the celtic year, _sq._; it was a season of divination and a festival of the dead, _sq._; fairies and hobgoblins let loose at hallowe'en, - ; divination in celtic countries at hallowe'en, _sq._; hallowe'en bonfires in the highlands of scotland, - ; hallowe'en fires in buchan to burn the witches, _sq._; processions with torches at hallowe'en in the braemar highlands, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in the highlands and lowlands of scotland, - ; hallowe'en fires in wales, omens drawn from stones cast into the fires, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in wales, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in ireland, - ; hallowe'en fires and divination in the isle of man, _sq._; hallowe'en fires and divination in lancashire, _sq._; marching with lighted candles to keep off the witches, ; divination at hallowe'en in northumberland, ; hallowe'en fires in france, _sq._ § . _the midwinter fires_, pp. - .--christmas the continuation of an old heathen festival of the sun, ; the yule log the midwinter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire, ; the yule log in germany, - ; in switzerland, ; in belgium, ; in france, - ; french superstitions as to the yule log, ; the yule log at marseilles and in perigord, _sq._; in berry, _sq._; in normandy and brittany, _sq._; in the ardennes, _sq._; in the vosges, ; in franche-comté, _sq._; the yule log and yule candle in england, - ; the yule log in the north of england and yorkshire, _sq._; in lincolnshire, warwickshire, shropshire, and herefordshire, _sq._; in wales, ; in servia, - ; among the servians of slavonia, _sq._; among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro, _sq._; in albania, ; belief that the yule log protects against fire and lightning, _sq._; public fire-festivals at midwinter, - ; christmas bonfire at schweina in thuringia, _sq._; christmas bonfires in normandy, ; bonfires on st. thomas's day in the isle of man, ; the "burning of the clavie" at burghead on the last day of december, - ; christmas procession with burning tar-barrels at lerwick, _sq._ § . _the need-fire_, pp. - .--need-fire kindled not at fixed periods but on occasions of distress and calamity, ; the need-fire in the middle ages and down to the end of the sixteenth century, _sq._; mode of kindling the need-fire by the friction of wood, _sq_.; the need-fire in central germany, particularly about hildesheim, _sq._; the need-fire in the mark, ; in mecklenburg, _sq._; in hanover, _sq._; in the harz mountains, _sq._; in brunswick, _sq._; in silesia and bohemia, _sq._; in switzerland, _sq._; in sweden and norway, ; among the slavonic peoples, - ; in russia and poland, _sq._; in slavonia, ; in servia, - ; in bulgaria, - ; in bosnia and herzegovina, ; in england, - ; in yorkshire, - ; in northumberland, _sq._; in scotland, - ; martin's account of it in the highlands, ; the need-fire in mull, _sq._; in caithness, - ; w. grant stewart's account of the need-fire, _sq._; alexander carmichael's account, - ; the need-fire in aberdeenshire, ; in perthshire, _sq._; in ireland, ; the use of need-fire a relic of the time when all fires were similarly kindled by the friction of wood, _sq._; the belief that need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood, _sq._; the need-fire among the iroquois of north america, _sq._ § . _the sacrifice of an animal to stay a cattle-plague_, pp. - .--the burnt sacrifice of a calf in england and wales, _sq._; burnt sacrifices of animals in scotland, _sq._; calf burnt in order to break a spell which has been cast on the herd, _sq._; mode in which the burning of a bewitched animal is supposed to break the spell, - ; in burning the bewitched animal you burn the witch herself, ; practice of burning cattle and sheep as sacrifices in the isle of man, - ; by burning a bewitched animal you compel the witch to appear, ; magic sympathy between the witch and the bewitched animal, ; similar sympathy between a were-wolf and his or her human shape, wounds inflicted on the animal are felt by the man or woman, ; were-wolves in europe, - ; in china, _sq._; among the toradjas of central celebes, - _sq._; in the egyptian sudan, _sq._; the were-wolf story in petronius, _sq._; witches like were-wolves can temporarily transform themselves into animals, and wounds inflicted on the transformed animals appear on the persons of the witches, _sq._; instances of such transformations and wounds in scotland, england, ireland, france, and germany, - ; hence the reason for burning bewitched animals is either to burn the witch herself or at all events to compel her to appear, _sq._; the like reason for burning bewitched things, _sq._; similarly by burning alive a person whose likeness a witch has assumed you compel the witch to disclose herself, ; woman burnt alive as a witch in ireland at the end of the nineteenth century, _sq._; bewitched animals sometimes buried alive instead of being burned, - ; calves killed and buried to save the rest of the herd, _sq_. chapter v.--the interpretation of the fire-festivals, pp. - § . _on the fire-festivals in general_ pp. - .--general resemblance of the fire-festivals to each other, _sq._; two explanations of the festivals suggested, one by w. mannhardt that they are sun-charms, the other by dr. e. westermarck that they are purificatory, _sq._; the two explanations perhaps not mutually exclusive, _sq._ § . _the solar theory of the fire-festivals_, pp. - .--theory that the fire-festivals are charms to ensure a supply of sunshine, ; coincidence of two of the festivals with the solstices, _sq._; attempt of the bushmen to warm up the fire of sirius in midwinter by kindling sticks, _sq._; the burning wheels and discs of the fire-festivals may be direct imitations of the sun, ; the wheel which is sometimes used to kindle the fire by friction may also be an imitation of the sun, - ; the influence which the bonfires are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be thought to be due to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires, - ; the effect which the bonfires are supposed to have in fertilizing cattle and women may also be attributed to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires, _sq._; the carrying of lighted torches about the country at the festivals may be explained as an attempt to diffuse the sun's heat, - . § . _the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals_, pp. - .--theory that the fires at the festivals are purificatory, being intended to burn up all harmful things, ; the purificatory or destructive effect of the fires is often alleged by the people who light them, and there is no reason to reject this explanation, _sq._; the great evil against which the fire at the festivals appears to be directed is witchcraft, ; among the evils for which the fire-festivals are deemed remedies the foremost is cattle-disease, and cattle-disease is often supposed to be an effect of witchcraft, _sq._; again, the bonfires are thought to avert hail, thunder, lightning, and various maladies, all of which are attributed to the maleficent arts of witches, _sq._; the burning wheels rolled down hill and the burning discs thrown into the air may be intended to burn the invisible witches, _sq._; on this view the fertility supposed to follow the use of fire results indirectly from breaking the spells of witches, ; on the whole the theory of the purificatory or destructive intention of the fire-festivals seems the more probable, . [transcriber's note: the brief descriptions often found enclosed in square brackets are "sidenotes", which appeared in the original book in the margins of the paragraph following the "sidenote." footnotes were originally at the bottoms of the printed pages.] chapter i between heaven and earth § . _not to touch the earth_ [the priest of aricia and the golden bough] we have travelled far since we turned our backs on nemi and set forth in quest of the secret of the golden bough. with the present volume we enter on the last stage of our long journey. the reader who has had the patience to follow the enquiry thus far may remember that at the outset two questions were proposed for answer: why had the priest of aricia to slay his predecessor? and why, before doing so, had he to pluck the golden bough?[ ] of these two questions the first has now been answered. the priest of aricia, if i am right, was one of those sacred kings or human divinities on whose life the welfare of the community and even the course of nature in general are believed to be intimately dependent. it does not appear that the subjects or worshippers of such a spiritual potentate form to themselves any very clear notion of the exact relationship in which they stand to him; probably their ideas on the point are vague and fluctuating, and we should err if we attempted to define the relationship with logical precision. all that the people know, or rather imagine, is that somehow they themselves, their cattle, and their crops are mysteriously bound up with their divine king, so that according as he is well or ill the community is healthy or sickly, the flocks and herds thrive or languish with disease, and the fields yield an abundant or a scanty harvest. the worst evil which they can conceive of is the natural death of their ruler, whether he succumb to sickness or old age, for in the opinion of his followers such a death would entail the most disastrous consequences on themselves and their possessions; fatal epidemics would sweep away man and beast, the earth would refuse her increase, nay the very frame of nature itself might be dissolved. to guard against these catastrophes it is necessary to put the king to death while he is still in the full bloom of his divine manhood, in order that his sacred life, transmitted in unabated force to his successor, may renew its youth, and thus by successive transmissions through a perpetual line of vigorous incarnations may remain eternally fresh and young, a pledge and security that men and animals shall in like manner renew their youth by a perpetual succession of generations, and that seedtime and harvest, and summer and winter, and rain and sunshine shall never fail. that, if my conjecture is right, was why the priest of aricia, the king of the wood at nemi, had regularly to perish by the sword of his successor. [what was the golden bough?] but we have still to ask, what was the golden bough? and why had each candidate for the arician priesthood to pluck it before he could slay the priest? these questions i will now try to answer. [sacred kings and priests forbidden to touch the ground with their feet.] it will be well to begin by noticing two of those rules or taboos by which, as we have seen, the life of divine kings or priests is regulated. the first of the rules to which i desire to call the reader's attention is that the divine personage may not touch the ground with his foot. this rule was observed by the supreme pontiff of the zapotecs in mexico; he profaned his sanctity if he so much as touched the ground with his foot.[ ] montezuma, emperor of mexico, never set foot on the ground; he was always carried on the shoulders of noblemen, and if he lighted anywhere they laid rich tapestry for him to walk upon.[ ] for the mikado of japan to touch the ground with his foot was a shameful degradation; indeed, in the sixteenth century, it was enough to deprive him of his office. outside his palace he was carried on men's shoulders; within it he walked on exquisitely wrought mats.[ ] the king and queen of tahiti might not touch the ground anywhere but within their hereditary domains; for the ground on which they trod became sacred. in travelling from place to place they were carried on the shoulders of sacred men. they were always accompanied by several pairs of these sanctified attendants; and when it became necessary to change their bearers, the king and queen vaulted on to the shoulders of their new bearers without letting their feet touch the ground.[ ] it was an evil omen if the king of dosuma touched the ground, and he had to perform an expiatory ceremony.[ ] within his palace the king of persia walked on carpets on which no one else might tread; outside of it he was never seen on foot but only in a chariot or on horseback.[ ] in old days the king of siam never set foot upon the earth, but was carried on a throne of gold from place to place.[ ] formerly neither the kings of uganda, nor their mothers, nor their queens might walk on foot outside of the spacious enclosures in which they lived. whenever they went forth they were carried on the shoulders of men of the buffalo clan, several of whom accompanied any of these royal personages on a journey and took it in turn to bear the burden. the king sat astride the bearer's neck with a leg over each shoulder and his feet tucked under the bearer's arms. when one of these royal carriers grew tired he shot the king on to the shoulders of a second man without allowing the royal feet to touch the ground. in this way they went at a great pace and travelled long distances in a day, when the king was on a journey. the bearers had a special hut in the king's enclosure in order to be at hand the moment they were wanted.[ ] among the bakuba or rather bushongo, a nation in the southern region of the congo, down to a few years ago persons of the royal blood were forbidden to touch the ground; they must sit on a hide, a chair, or the back of a slave, who crouched on hands and feet; their feet rested on the feet of others. when they travelled they were carried on the backs of men; but the king journeyed in a litter supported on shafts.[ ] among the ibo people about awka, in southern nigeria, the priest of the earth has to observe many taboos; for example, he may not see a corpse, and if he meets one on the road he must hide his eyes with his wristlet. he must abstain from many foods, such as eggs, birds of all sorts, mutton, dog, bush-buck, and so forth. he may neither wear nor touch a mask, and no masked man may enter his house. if a dog enters his house, it is killed and thrown out. as priest of the earth he may not sit on the bare ground, nor eat things that have fallen on the ground, nor may earth be thrown at him.[ ] according to ancient brahmanic ritual a king at his inauguration trod on a tiger's skin and a golden plate; he was shod with shoes of boar's skin, and so long as he lived thereafter he might not stand on the earth with his bare feet.[ ] [certain persons on certain occasions forbidden to touch the ground with their feet.] but besides persons who are permanently sacred or tabooed and are therefore permanently forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, there are others who enjoy the character of sanctity or taboo only on certain occasions, and to whom accordingly the prohibition in question only applies at the definite seasons during which they exhale the odour of sanctity. thus among the kayans or bahaus of central borneo, while the priestesses are engaged in the performance of certain rites they may not step on the ground, and boards are laid for them to tread on.[ ] at a funeral ceremony observed by night among the michemis, a tibetan tribe near the northern frontier of assam, a priest fantastically bedecked with tiger's teeth, many-coloured plumes, bells, and shells, executed a wild dance for the purpose of exorcising the evil spirits; then all fires were extinguished and a new light was struck by a man suspended by his feet from a beam in the ceiling; "he did not touch the ground," we are told, "in order to indicate that the light came from heaven."[ ] again, newly born infants are strongly tabooed; accordingly in loango they are not allowed to touch the earth.[ ] among the iluvans of malabar the bridegroom on his wedding-day is bathed by seven young men and then carried or walks on planks from the bathing-place to the marriage booth; he may not touch the ground with his feet.[ ] with the dyaks of landak and tajan, two districts of dutch borneo, it is a custom that for a certain time after marriage neither bride nor bridegroom may tread on the earth.[ ] warriors, again, on the war-path are surrounded, so to say, by an atmosphere of taboo; hence some indians of north america might not sit on the bare ground the whole time they were out on a warlike expedition.[ ] in laos the hunting of elephants gives rise to many taboos; one of them is that the chief hunter may not touch the earth with his foot. accordingly, when he alights from his elephant, the others spread a carpet of leaves for him to step upon.[ ] german wiseacres recommended that when witches were led to the block or the stake, they should not be allowed to touch the bare earth, and a reason suggested for the rule was that if they touched the earth they might make themselves invisible and so escape. the sagacious author of _the striped-petticoat philosophy_ in the eighteenth century ridicules the idea as mere silly talk. he admits, indeed, that the women were conveyed to the place of execution in carts; but he denies that there is any deep significance in the cart, and he is prepared to maintain this view by a chemical analysis of the timber of which the cart was built. to clinch his argument he appeals to plain matter of fact and his own personal experience. not a single instance, he assures us with apparent satisfaction, can be produced of a witch who escaped the axe or the fire in this fashion. "i have myself," says he, "in my youth seen divers witches burned, some at arnstadt, some at ilmenau, some at schwenda, a noble village between arnstadt and ilmenau, and some of them were pardoned and beheaded before being burned. they were laid on the earth in the place of execution and beheaded like any other poor sinner; whereas if they could have escaped by touching the earth, not one of them would have failed to do so."[ ] [sacred or tabooed persons apparently thought to be charged with a mysterious virtue like a fluid, which will run to waste or explode if it touches the ground.] apparently holiness, magical virtue, taboo, or whatever we may call that mysterious quality which is supposed to pervade sacred or tabooed persons, is conceived by the primitive philosopher as a physical substance or fluid, with which the sacred man is charged just as a leyden jar is charged with electricity; and exactly as the electricity in the jar can be discharged by contact with a good conductor, so the holiness or magical virtue in the man can be discharged and drained away by contact with the earth, which on this theory serves as an excellent conductor for the magical fluid. hence in order to preserve the charge from running to waste, the sacred or tabooed personage must be carefully prevented from touching the ground; in electrical language he must be insulated, if he is not to be emptied of the precious substance or fluid with which he, as a vial, is filled to the brim. and in many cases apparently the insulation of the tabooed person is recommended as a precaution not merely for his own sake but for the sake of others; for since the virtue of holiness or taboo is, so to say, a powerful explosive which the smallest touch may detonate, it is necessary in the interest of the general safety to keep it within narrow bounds, lest breaking out it should blast, blight, and destroy whatever it comes into contact with. [things as well as persons can be charged with the mysterious quality of holiness or taboo; and when so charged they must be kept from contact with the ground.] but things as well as persons are often charged with the mysterious quality of holiness or taboo; hence it frequently becomes necessary for similar reasons to guard them also from coming into contact with the ground, lest they should in like manner be drained of their valuable properties and be reduced to mere commonplace material objects, empty husks from which the good grain has been eliminated. thus, for example, the most sacred object of the arunta tribe in central australia is, or rather used to be, a pole about twenty feet high, which is completely smeared with human blood, crowned with an imitation of a human head, and set up on the ground where the final initiatory ceremonies of young men are performed. a young gum-tree is chosen to form the pole, and it must be cut down and transported in such a way that it does not touch the earth till it is erected in its place on the holy ground. apparently the pole represents some famous ancestor of the olden time.[ ] [festival of the wild manog tree in british new guinea.] again, at a great dancing festival celebrated by the natives of bartle bay, in british new guinea, a wild mango tree plays a prominent part. the tree must be self-sown, that is, really wild and so young that it has never flowered. it is chosen in the jungle some five or six weeks before the festival, and a circle is cleared round its trunk. from that time the master of the ceremonies and some eight to twenty other men, who have aided him in choosing the tree and in clearing the jungle, become strictly holy or tabooed. they sleep by themselves in a house into which no one else may intrude: they may not wash or drink water, nor even allow it accidentally to touch their bodies: they are forbidden to eat boiled food and the fruit of mango trees: they may drink only the milk of a young coco-nut which has been baked, and they may eat certain fruits and vegetables, such as paw-paws (_carica papaya_) and sugar-cane, but only on condition that they have been baked. all refuse of their food is kept in baskets in their sleeping-house and may not be removed from it till the festival is over. at the time when the men begin to observe these rules of abstinence, some six to ten women, members of the same clan as the master of the ceremonies, enter on a like period of mortification, avoiding the company of the other sex, and refraining from water, all boiled food, and the fruit of the mango tree. these fasting men and women are the principal dancers at the festival. the dancing takes place on a special platform in a temporary village which has been erected for the purpose. when the platform is about to be set up, the fasting men rub the stepping posts and then suck their hands for the purpose of extracting the ghost of any dead man that might chance to be in the post and might be injured by the weight of the platform pressing down on him. having carefully extracted these poor souls, the men carry them away tenderly and set them free in the forest or the long grass. [the wild mango tree not allowed to touch the ground.] on the day before the festival one of the fasting men cuts down the chosen mango tree in the jungle with a stone adze, which is never afterwards put to any other use; an iron tool may not be used for the purpose, though iron tools are now common enough in the district. in cutting down the mango they place nets on the ground to catch any leaves or twigs that might fall from the tree as it is being felled and they surround the trunk with new mats to receive the chips which fly out under the adze of the woodman; for the chips may not drop on the earth. once the tree is down, it is carried to the centre of the temporary village, the greatest care being taken to prevent it from coming into contact with the ground. but when it is brought into the village, the houses are connected with the top of the mango by means of long vines decorated with the streamers. in the afternoon the fasting men and women begin to dance, the men bedizened with gay feathers, armlets, streamers, and anklets, the women flaunting in parti-coloured petticoats and sprigs of croton leaves, which wave from their waistbands as they dance. the dancing stops at sundown, and when the full moon rises over the shoulder of the eastern hill (for the date of the festival seems to be determined with reference to the time of the moon), two chiefs mount the gables of two houses on the eastern side of the square, and, their dusky figures standing sharply out against the moonlight, pray to the evil spirits to go away and not to hurt the people. next morning pigs are killed by being speared as slowly as possible in order that they may squeal loud and long; for the people believe that the mango trees hear the squealing, and are pleased at the sound, and bear plenty of fruit, whereas if they heard no squeals they would bear no fruit. however, the trees have to content themselves with the squeals; the flesh of the pigs is eaten by the people. this ends the festival. [final disposition of the wild mango tree.] next day the mango is taken down from the platform, wrapt in new mats, and carried by the fasting men to their sleeping house, where it is hung from the roof. but after an interval, it may be of many months, the tree is brought forth again. as to the reason for its reappearance in public opinions are divided; but some say that the tree itself orders the master of the ceremonies to bring it forth, appearing to him in his dreams and saying, "let me smell the smoking fat of pigs. so will your pigs be healthy and your crops will grow." be that as it may, out it comes, conducted by the fasting men in their dancing costume; and with it come in the solemn procession all the pots, spoons, cups and so forth used by the fasting men during their period of holiness or taboo, also all the refuse of their food which has been collected for months, and all the fallen leaves and chips of the mango in their bundles of mats. these holy relics are carried in front and the mango tree itself brings up the rear of the procession. while these sacred objects are being handed out of the house, the men who are present rush up, wipe off the hallowed dust which has accumulated on them, and smear it over their own bodies, no doubt in order to steep themselves in their blessed influence. thus the tree is carried as before to the centre of the temporary village, care being again taken not to let it touch the ground. then one of the fasting men takes from a basket a number of young green mangoes, cuts them in pieces, and places them with his own hands in the mouths of his fellows, the other fasting men, who chew the pieces small and turning round spit the morsels in the direction of the setting sun, in order that "the sun should carry the mango bits over the whole country and everyone should know." a portion of the mango tree is then broken off and in the evening it is burnt along with the bundles of leaves, chips, and refuse of food, which have been stored up. what remains of the tree is taken to the house of the master of the ceremonies and hung over the fire-place; it will be brought out again at intervals and burned bit by bit, till all is consumed, whereupon a new mango will be cut down and treated in like manner. the ashes of the holy fire on each occasion are gathered by the people and preserved in the house of the master of the ceremonies.[ ] [the ceremony apparently intended to fertilize the mango trees.] the meaning of these ceremonies is not explained by the authorities who describe them; but we may conjecture that they are intended to fertilize the mango trees and cause them to bear a good crop of fruit. the central feature of the whole ritual is a wild mango tree, so young that it has never flowered: the men who cut it down, carry it into the village, and dance at the festival, are forbidden to eat mangoes: pigs are killed in order that their dying squeals may move the mango trees to bear fruit: at the end of the ceremonies pieces of young green mangoes are solemnly placed in the mouths of the fasting men and are by them spurted out towards the setting sun in order that the luminary may carry the fragments to every part of the country; and finally when after a longer or shorter interval the tree is wholly consumed, its place is supplied by another. all these circumstances are explained simply and naturally by the supposition that the young mango tree is taken as a representative of mangoes generally, that the dances are intended to quicken it, and that it is preserved, like a may-pole of old in england, as a sort of general fund of vegetable life, till the fund being exhausted by the destruction of the tree it is renewed by the importation of a fresh young tree from the forest. we can therefore understand why, as a storehouse of vital energy, the tree should be carefully kept from contact with the ground, lest the pent-up and concentrated energy should escape and dribbling away into the earth be dissipated to no purpose. [sacred objects of various sorts not allowed to touch the ground.] to take other instances of what we may call the conservation of energy in magic or religion by insulating sacred bodies from the ground, the natives of new britain have a secret society called the duk-duk, the members of which masquerade in petticoats of leaves and tall headdresses of wickerwork shaped like candle extinguishers, which descend to the shoulders of the wearers, completely concealing their faces. thus disguised they dance about to the awe and terror, real or assumed, of the women and uninitiated, who take, or pretend to take, them for spirits. when lads are being initiated into the secrets of this august society, the adepts cut down some very large and heavy bamboos, one for each lad, and the novices carry them, carefully wrapt up in leaves, to the sacred ground, where they arrive very tired and weary, for they may not let the bamboos touch the ground nor the sun shine on them. outside the fence of the enclosure every lad deposits his bamboo on a couple of forked sticks and covers it up with nut leaves.[ ] among the carrier indians of north-western america, who burned their dead, the ashes of a chief used to be placed in a box and set on the top of a pole beside his hut: the box was never allowed to touch the ground.[ ] in the omaha tribe of north american indians the sacred clam shell of the elk clan was wrapt up from sight in a mat, placed on a stand, and never suffered to come in contact with the earth.[ ] the cherokees and kindred indian tribes of the united states used to have certain sacred boxes or arks, which they regularly took with them to war. such a holy ark consisted of a square wooden box, which contained "certain consecrated vessels made by beloved superannuated women, and of such various antiquated forms, as would have puzzled adam to have given significant names to each." the leader of a war party and his attendant bore the ark by turns, but they never set it on the ground nor would they themselves sit on the bare earth while they were carrying it against the enemy. where stones were plentiful they rested the ark on them; but where no stones were to be found, they deposited it on short logs. "the indian ark is deemed so sacred and dangerous to be touched, either by their own sanctified warriors, or the spoiling enemy, that they durst not touch it upon any account. it is not to be meddled with by any, except the war chieftain and his waiter, under the penalty of incurring great evil. nor would the most inveterate enemy touch it in the woods, for the very same reason." after their return home they used to hang the ark on the leader's red-painted war pole.[ ] at sipi, near simla, in northern india, an annual fair is held, at which men purchase wives. a square box with a domed top figures prominently at the fair. it is fixed on two poles to be carried on men's shoulders, and long heavily-plaited petticoats hang from it nearly to the ground. three sides of the box are adorned with the head and shoulders of a female figure and the fourth side with a black yak's tail. four men bear the poles, each carrying an axe in his right hand. they dance round, with a swinging rhythmical step, to the music of drums and a pipe. the dance goes on for hours and is thought to avert ill-luck from the fair. it is said that the box is brought to simla from a place sixty miles off by relays of men, who may not stop nor set the box on the ground the whole way.[ ] in scotland, when water was carried from sacred wells to sick people, the water-vessel might not touch the earth.[ ] in some parts of aberdeenshire the last bunch of standing corn, which is commonly viewed as very sacred, being the last refuge of the corn-spirit retreating before the reapers, is not suffered to touch the ground; the master or "gueedman" sits down and receives each handful of corn as it is cut on his lap.[ ] [sacred food not allowed to touch the earth.] again, sacred food may not under certain circumstances be brought into contact with the earth. some of the aborigines of victoria used to regard the fat of the emu as sacred, believing that it had once been the fat of the black man. in taking it from the bird or giving it to another they handled it reverently. any one who threw away the fat or flesh of the emu was held accursed. "the late mr. thomas observed on one occasion, at nerre-nerre-warreen, a remarkable exhibition of the effects of this superstition. an aboriginal child--one attending the school--having eaten some part of the flesh of an emu, threw away the skin. the skin fell to the ground, and this being observed by his parents, they showed by their gestures every token of horror. they looked upon their child as one utterly lost. his desecration of the bird was regarded as a sin for which there was no atonement."[ ] the roumanians of transylvania believe that "every fresh-baked loaf of wheaten bread is sacred, and should a piece inadvertently fall to the ground, it is hastily picked up, carefully wiped and kissed, and if soiled, thrown into the fire--partly as an offering to the dead, and partly because it were a heavy sin to throw away or tread upon any particle of it."[ ] at certain festivals in south-eastern borneo the food which is consumed in the common house may not touch the ground; hence, a little before the festivals take place, foot-bridges made of thin poles are constructed from the private dwellings to the common house.[ ] when hall was living with the esquimaux and grew tired of eating walrus, one of the women brought the head and neck of a reindeer for him to eat. this venison had to be completely wrapt up before it was brought into the house, and once in the house it could only be placed on the platform which served as a bed. "to have placed it on the floor or on the platform behind the fire-lamp, among the walrus, musk-ox, and polar-bear meat which occupy a goodly portion of both of these places, would have horrified the whole town, as, according to the actual belief of the innuits, not another walrus could be secured this year, and there would ever be trouble in catching any more."[ ] but in this case the real scruple appears to have been felt not so much at placing the venison on the ground as at bringing it into contact with walrus meat.[ ] [magical implements and remedies thought to lose their virtue by contact with the ground.] sometimes magical implements and remedies are supposed to lose their virtue by contact with the ground, the volatile essence with which they are impregnated being no doubt drained off into the earth. thus in the boulia district of queensland the magical bone, which the native sorcerer points at his victim as a means of killing him, is never by any chance allowed to touch the earth.[ ] the wives of rajahs in macassar, a district of southern celebes, pride themselves on their luxuriant tresses and are at great pains to oil and preserve them. should the hair begin to grow thin, the lady resorts to many devices to stay the ravages of time; among other things she applies to her locks a fat extracted from crocodiles and venomous snakes. the unguent is believed to be very efficacious, but during its application the woman's feet may not come into contact with the ground, or all the benefit of the nostrum would be lost.[ ] some people in antiquity believed that a woman in hard labour would be delivered if a spear, which had been wrenched from a man's body without touching the ground, were thrown over the house where the sufferer lay. again, according to certain ancient writers, arrows which had been extracted from a body without coming into contact with the earth and laid under sleepers, acted as a love-charm.[ ] among the peasantry of the north-east of scotland the prehistoric weapons called celts went by the name of "thunderbolts" and were coveted as the sure bringers of success, always provided that they were not allowed to fall to the ground.[ ] [serpents eggs or snake stones.] in ancient gaul certain glass or paste beads attained great celebrity as amulets under the name of serpents' eggs; it was believed that serpents, coiling together in a wriggling, writhing mass, generated them from their slaver and shot them into the air from their hissing jaws. if a man was bold and dexterous enough to catch one of these eggs in his cloak before it touched the ground, he rode off on horseback with it at full speed, pursued by the whole pack of serpents, till he was saved by the interposition of a river, which the snakes could not pass. the proof of the egg being genuine was that if it were thrown into a stream it would float up against the current, even though it were hooped in gold. the druids held these beads in high esteem; according to them, the precious objects could only be obtained on a certain day of the moon, and the peculiar virtue that resided in them was to secure success in law suits and free access to kings. pliny knew of a gaulish knight who was executed by the emperor claudius for wearing one of these amulets.[ ] under the name of snake stones (_glain neidr_) or adder stones the beads are still known in those parts of our own country where the celtic population has lingered, with its immemorial superstitions, down to the present or recent times; and the old story of the origin of the beads from the slaver of serpents was believed by the modern peasantry of cornwall, wales, and scotland as by the druids of ancient gaul. in cornwall the time when the serpents united to fashion the beads was commonly said to be at or about midsummer eve; in wales it was usually thought to be spring, especially the eve of may day, and even within recent years persons in the principality have affirmed that they witnessed the great vernal congress of the snakes and saw the magic stone in the midst of the froth. the welsh peasants believe the beads to possess medicinal virtues of many sorts and to be particularly efficacious for all maladies of the eyes. in wales and ireland the beads sometimes went by the name of the magician's or druid's glass (_gleini na droedh_ and _glaine nan druidhe_). specimens of them may be seen in museums; some have been found in british barrows. they are of glass of various colours, green, blue, pink, red, brown, and so forth, some plain and some ribbed. some are streaked with brilliant hues. the beads are perforated, and in the highlands of scotland the hole is explained by saying that when the bead has just been conflated by the serpents jointly, one of the reptiles sticks his tail through the still viscous glass. an englishman who visited scotland in found many of these beads in use throughout the country. they were hung from children's necks to protect them from whooping cough and other ailments. snake stones were, moreover, a charm to ensure prosperity in general and to repel evil spirits. when one of these priceless treasures was not on active service, the owner kept it in an iron box to guard it against fairies, who, as is well known, cannot abide iron.[ ] [medicinal plants, water, are not allowed to touch the earth.] pliny mentions several medicinal plants, which, if they were to retain their healing virtue, ought not to be allowed to touch the earth.[ ] the curious medical treatise of marcellus, a native of bordeaux in the fourth century of our era, abounds with prescriptions of this sort; and we can well believe the writer when he assures us that he borrowed many of his quaint remedies from the lips of common folk and peasants rather than from the books of the learned.[ ] thus he tells us that certain white stones found in the stomachs of young swallows assuage the most persistent headache, always provided that their virtue be not impaired by contact with the ground.[ ] another of his cures for the same malady is a wreath of fleabane placed on the head, but it must not touch the earth.[ ] on the same condition a decoction of the root of elecampane in wine kills worms; a fern, found growing on a tree, relieves the stomach-ache; and the pastern-bone of a hare is an infallible remedy for colic, provided, first, it be found in the dung of a wolf, second, that it docs not touch the ground, and, third, that it is not touched by a woman.[ ] another cure for colic is effected by certain hocus-pocus with a scrap of wool from the forehead of a first-born lamb, if only the lamb, instead of being allowed to fall to the ground, has been caught by hand as it dropped from its dam.[ ] in andjra, a district of morocco, the people attribute many magical virtues to rain-water which has fallen on the twenty-seventh day of april, old style; accordingly they collect it and use it for a variety of purposes. mixed with tar and sprinkled on the door-posts it prevents snakes and scorpions from entering the house: sprinkled on heaps of threshed corn it protects them from the evil eye: mixed with an egg, henna, and seeds of cress it is an invaluable medicine for sick cows: poured over a plate, on which a passage of the koran has been written, it strengthens the memory of schoolboys who drink it; and if you mix it with cowdung and red earth and paint rings with the mixture round the trunks of your fig-trees at sunset on midsummer day, you may depend on it that the trees will bear an excellent crop and will not shed their fruit untimely on the ground. but in order to preserve these remarkable properties it is absolutely essential that the water should on no account be allowed to touch the ground; some say too that it should not be exposed to the sun nor breathed upon by anybody.[ ] again, the moors ascribe great magical efficacy to what they call "the sultan of the oleander," which is a stalk of oleander with a cluster of four pairs of leaves springing from it. they think that the magical virtue is greatest if the stalk has been cut immediately before midsummer. but when the plant is brought into the house, the branches may not touch the ground, lest they should lose their marvellous qualities.[ ] in the olden days, before a lithuanian or prussian farmer went forth to plough for the first time in spring, he called in a wizard to perform a certain ceremony for the good of the crops. the sage seized a mug of beer with his teeth, quaffed the liquor, and then tossed the mug over his head. this signified that the corn in that year should grow taller than a man. but the mug might not fall to the ground; it had to be caught by somebody stationed at the wizard's back, for if it fell to the ground the consequence naturally would be that the corn also would be laid low on the earth.[ ] § . _not to see the sun_ [sacred persons not allowed to see the sun.] the second rule to be here noted is that the sun may not shine upon the divine person. this rule was observed both by the mikado and by the pontiff of the zapotecs. the latter "was looked upon as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold, nor the sun to shine upon."[ ] the japanese would not allow that the mikado should expose his sacred person to the open air, and the sun was not thought worthy to shine on his head.[ ] the indians of granada, in south america, "kept those who were to be rulers or commanders, whether men or women, locked up for several years when they were children, some of them seven years, and this so close that they were not to see the sun, for if they should happen to see it they forfeited their lordship, eating certain sorts of food appointed; and those who were their keepers at certain times went into their retreat or prison and scourged them severely."[ ] thus, for example, the heir to the throne of bogota, who was not the son but the sister's son of the king, had to undergo a rigorous training from his infancy: he lived in complete retirement in a temple, where he might not see the sun nor eat salt nor converse with a woman: he was surrounded by guards who observed his conduct and noted all his actions: if he broke a single one of the rules laid down for him, he was deemed infamous and forfeited all his rights to the throne.[ ] so, too, the heir to the kingdom of sogamoso, before succeeding to the crown, had to fast for seven years in the temple, being shut up in the dark and not allowed to see the sun or light.[ ] the prince who was to become inca of peru had to fast for a month without seeing light.[ ] on the day when a brahman student of the veda took a bath, to signify that the time of his studentship was at an end, he entered a cow-shed before sunrise, hung over the door a skin with the hair inside, and sat there; on that day the sun should not shine upon him.[ ] [tabooed persons not allowed to see the sun; certain persons forbidden to see fire.] again, women after childbirth and their offspring are more or less tabooed all the world over; hence in corea the rays of the sun are rigidly excluded from both mother and child for a period of twenty-one or a hundred days, according to their rank, after the birth has taken place.[ ] among some of the tribes on the north-west coast of new guinea a woman may not leave the house for months after childbirth. when she does go out, she must cover her head with a hood or mat; for if the sun were to shine upon her, it is thought that one of her male relations would die.[ ] again, mourners are everywhere taboo; accordingly in mourning the ainos of japan wear peculiar caps in order that the sun may not shine upon their heads.[ ] during a solemn fast of three days the indians of costa rica eat no salt, speak as little as possible, light no fires, and stay strictly indoors, or if they go out during the day they carefully cover themselves from the light of the sun, believing that exposure to the sun's rays would turn them black.[ ] on yule night it has been customary in parts of sweden from time immemorial to go on pilgrimage, whereby people learn many secret things and know what is to happen in the coming year. as a preparation for this pilgrimage, "some secrete themselves for three days previously in a dark cellar, so as to be shut out altogether from the light of heaven. others retire at an early hour of the preceding morning to some out-of-the-way place, such as a hay-loft, where they bury themselves in the hay, that they may neither see nor hear any living creature; and here they remain, in silence and fasting, until after sundown; whilst there are those who think it sufficient if they rigidly abstain from food on the day before commencing their wanderings. during this period of probation a man ought not to see fire, but should this have happened, he must strike a light with flint and steel, whereby the evil that would otherwise have ensued will be obviated."[ ] during the sixteen days that a pima indian is undergoing purification for killing an apache he may not see a blazing fire.[ ] [the story of prince sunless.] acarnanian peasants tell of a handsome prince called sunless, who would die if he saw the sun. so he lived in an underground palace on the site of the ancient oeniadae, but at night he came forth and crossed the river to visit a famous enchantress who dwelt in a castle on the further bank. she was loth to part with him every night long before the sun was up, and as he turned a deaf ear to all her entreaties to linger, she hit upon the device of cutting the throats of all the cocks in the neighbourhood. so the prince, whose ear had learned to expect the shrill clarion of the birds as the signal of the growing light, tarried too long, and hardly had he reached the ford when the sun rose over the aetolian mountains, and its fatal beams fell on him before he could regain his dark abode.[ ] notes: [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), ii. ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique-centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] _manuscrit ramirez, histoire de l'origine des indiens_, publié par d. charnay (paris, ), p. ; j. de acosta, _the natural and moral history of the indies_, bk. vii. chap. , vol. ii. p. of e. grimston's translation, edited by (sir) clements r. markham (hakluyt society, london, ). [ ] _memorials of the empire of japon in the xvi. and xvii. centuries_, edited by t. rundall (hakluyt society, london, ), pp. , ; b. varenius, _descriptio regni japoniae et siam_ (cambridge, ), p. ; caron, "account of japan," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), vii. ; kaempfer, "history of japan," in _id._ vii. . [ ] w. ellis, _polynesian researches_, second edition (london, - ), iii. _sq._; captain james wilson, _missionary voyage to the southern pacific ocean_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. bastian, _der mensch in der geschichte_ (leipsic, ), iii. . [ ] athenaeus, xii. , p. c. [ ] _the voiages and travels of john struys_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "further notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) pp. , ; _id., the baganda_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare l. decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), p. note: "before horses had been introduced into uganda the king and his mother never walked, but always went about perched astride the shoulders of a slave--a most ludicrous sight. in this way they often travelled hundreds of miles." the use both of horses and of chariots by royal personages may often have been intended to prevent their sacred feet from touching the ground. [ ] e. torday et t.a. joyce, _les bushongo_ (brussels, ), p. . [ ] northcote w. thomas, _anthropological report on the ibo-speaking peoples of nigeria_ (london, ), i. _sq._ [ ] _satapatha brâhmana_, translated by julius eggeling, part iii. (oxford, ) pp. , , , , _sq. (sacred books of the east_, vol. xli.). [ ] a.w. nieuwenhuis, _quer durch borneo_ (leyden, - ), i. . [ ] letter of missionary krick, in _annales de la propagation de la foi_, xxvi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] pechuel-loesche, "indiscretes aus loango," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, x. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] edgar thurston, _ethnographic notes in southern india_ (madras, ), p. . [ ] m.c. schadee, "het familieleven en familierecht der dajaks van landak en tajan," _bijdragen tot de taal-land en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indié_, lxiii. ( ) p. . [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), p. ; _narrative of the captivity and adventures of john tanner_ (london, ), p. . as to the taboos to which warriors are subject see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] etienne aymonier, _notes sur le laos_ (saigon, ), p. . [ ] _die gestritgelte rockenphilosophie_*[ ] (chemnitz, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. , _sqq._, ; _id., across australia_ (london, ), ii. , _sq._ [ ] c.g. seligmann, m.d., _the melanesians of british new guinea_ (cambridge, ), pp. - . [ ] george brown, d.d., _melanesians and polynesians_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, . as to the duk-duk society, see below, vol. ii. pp. _sq._ [ ] john keast lord, _the naturalist in vancouver island and british columbia_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] edwin james, _account of an expedition from pittsburgh to the rocky mountains_ (london, ), ii. ; rev. j. owen dorsey, "omaha sociology," _third annual report of the bureau of ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] (sir) henry babington smith, in _folk-lore_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] miss c.f. gordon cumming, _in the hebrides_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. gregor, "quelques coutumes du nord-est du comté d'aberdeen," _revue des traditions populaires_, iii. ( ) p. b. compare _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. _sq._ [ ] r. brough smyth, _aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . [ ] e. gerard, _the land beyond the forest_ (edinburgh and london, ), ii. . [ ] f. grabowsky, "der distrikt dusson timor in südost-borneo und seine bewohner," _das ausland_, , no. , p. . [ ] _narrative of the second arctic expedition made by charles f. hall_, edited by prof. j.e. nourse (washington, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see _taboo and perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] walter e. roth, _ethnological studies among the north-west-central queensland aborigines_ (brisbane and london, ), p. , § . the custom of killing a man by pointing a bone or stick at him, while the sorcerer utters appropriate curses, is common among the tribes of central australia; but amongst them there seems to be no objection to place the bone or stick on the ground; on the contrary, an arunta wizard inserts the bone or stick in the ground while he invokes death and destruction on his enemy. see baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. _sqq.; id., northern tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] hugh low, _sarawak_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_ xxviii. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . as to the superstitions attaching to stone arrowheads and axeheads (celts), commonly known as "thunderbolts," in the british islands, see w.w. skeat, "snakestones and stone thunderbolts," _folklore_, xxiii. ( ) pp. _sqq._; and as to such superstitions in general, see chr. blinkenberg, _the thunderweapon in religion and folklore_ (cambridge, ). [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_, xxix. - . [ ] w. borlase, _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. ; j.g. dalyell, _darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._; daniel wilson, _the archaeology and prehistoric annals of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq._; lieut.-col. forbes leslie, _the early races of scotland and their monuments_ (edinburgh, ), i. _sqq._; j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. - ; marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; j.c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . compare w.w. skeat, "snakestones and stone thunderbolts," _folk-lore,_ xxiii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ the superstition is described as follows by edward lhwyd in a letter quoted by w. borlase (_op. cit._ p. ): "in most parts of wales, and throughout all scotland, and in cornwall, we find it a common opinion of the vulgar, that about midsummer-eve (though in the time they do not all agree) it is usual for snakes to meet in companies; and that, by joining heads together, and hissing, a kind of bubble is formed, which the rest, by continual hissing, blow on till it passes quite through the body, and then it immediately hardens, and resembles a glass-ring, which whoever finds (as some old women and children are persuaded) shall prosper in all his undertakings. the rings thus generated, are called _gleineu nadroeth_; in english, snake-stones. they are small glass amulets, commonly about half as wide as our finger-rings, but much thicker, of a green colour usually, though sometimes blue, and waved with red and white." [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_ xxiv. and , xxv. . [ ] marcellus, _de medicamentis_, ed. g. helmreich (leipsic, ), preface, p. i.: "_nec solum veteres medicinae artis auctores latino dumtaxat sermone perscriptos ... lectione scrutatus sum, sed etiam ab agrestibus et plebeis remedia fortuita atque simplicia, quae experimentis probaverant didici_." as to marcellus and his work, see jacob grimm, "ueber marcellus burdigalensis," _abhandlungen der koniglichen akademie der wissenschaft zu berlin_, , pp. - ; _id._, "ueber die marcellischen formeln," _ibid._. , pp. - . [ ] marcellus, _de medicamentis_, i. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ i. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ xxviii. and , xxix. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ xxix. . [ ] edward westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folklore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) p. _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] matthäus prätorius, _deliciae prussicae_, herausgegeben von dr. w. pierson (berlin, ), p. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), ii. ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] kaempfer, "history of japan," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, vii. ; caron, "account of japan," _ibid._ vii. ; b. varenius, _descriptio regni japoniae et siam_ (cambridge, ), p. : _"radiis solis caput nunquam illustrabatur: in apertum acrem non procedebat."_ [ ] a. de herrera, _general history of the vast continent and islands of america,_ trans, by capt. john stevens (london, - ), v. . [ ] h. ternaux-compans, _essai sur l'ancien cundinamarca_ (paris, n.d.), p. ; theodor waitz, _anthropologie der naturvölker_ iv. (leipsic, ) p. . [ ] alonzo de zurita, "rapport sur les differentes classes de chefs de la nouvelle-espagne," p. , in h. ternaux-compans's _voyages, relations et mémoires originaux, pour servir à l'histoire de la découvertede l'amérique_ (paris, ); th. waitz, _l.c._; a. bastian, _die culturländer des alten amerika_ (berlin, ), ii. . [ ] cieza de leon, _second part of the chronicle of peru_ (hakluyt society, london, ), p. . [ ] _the grihya sûtras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part ii. (oxford, ) pp. , (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxx.). umbrellas appear to have been sometimes used in ritual for the purpose of preventing the sunlight from falling on sacred persons or things. see w. caland, _altindisches zauberritual_ (amsterdam, ), p. note . at an athenian festival called scira the priestess of athena, the priest of poseidon, and the priest of the sun walked from the acropolis under the shade of a huge white umbrella which was borne over their heads by the eteobutads. see harpocration and suidas, _s.v._ [greek: skiron]; scholiast on aristophanes, _eccles._ . [ ] mrs. bishop, _korea and her neighbours_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] j.l. van hasselt, "eenige aanteekeningen aangaande de bewoners der n. westkust van nieuw guinea," _tijdschrift voor indische taal-landen volkenkunde_, xxxi. ( ) p. . [ ] a. bastian, _die völker des östlichen asien_, v. (jena, ) p. . [ ] w.m. gabb, "on the indian tribes and languages of costa rica," _proceedings of the american philosophical society held at philadelphia_, xiv. (philadelphia, ), p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_, i. . see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, p. . [ ] l. heuzey, _le mont olympe et l'acarnanie_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ chapter ii the seclusion of girls at puberty § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in africa_ [girls at puberty forbidden to touch the ground and to see the sun; seclusion of girls at puberty among the a-kamba; seclusion of girls at puberty among the baganda.] now it is remarkable that the foregoing two rules--not to touch the ground and not to see the sun--are observed either separately or conjointly by girls at puberty in many parts of the world. thus amongst the negroes of loango girls at puberty are confined in separate huts, and they may not touch the ground with any part of their bare body.[ ] among the zulus and kindred tribes of south africa, when the first signs of puberty shew themselves "while a girl is walking, gathering wood, or working in the field, she runs to the river and hides herself among the reeds for the day, so as not to be seen by men. she covers her head carefully with her blanket that the sun may not shine on it and shrivel her up into a withered skeleton, as would result from exposure to the sun's beams. after dark she returns to her home and is secluded" in a hut for some time.[ ] during her seclusion, which lasts for about a fortnight, neither she nor the girls who wait upon her may drink any milk, lest the cattle should die. and should she be overtaken by the first flow while she is in the fields, she must, after hiding in the bush, scrupulously avoid all pathways in returning home.[ ] a reason for this avoidance is assigned by the a-kamba of british east africa, whose girls under similar circumstances observe the same rule. "a girl's first menstruation is a very critical period of her life according to a-kamba beliefs. if this condition appears when she is away from the village, say at work in the fields, she returns at once to her village, but is careful to walk through the grass and not on a path, for if she followed a path and a stranger accidentally trod on a spot of blood and then cohabited with a member of the opposite sex before the girl was better again, it is believed that she would never bear a child." she remains at home till the symptoms have ceased, and during this time she may be fed by none but her mother. when the flux is over, her father and mother are bound to cohabit with each other, else it is believed that the girl would be barren all her life.[ ] similarly, among the baganda, when a girl menstruated for the first time she was secluded and not allowed to handle food; and at the end of her seclusion the kinsman with whom she was staying (for among the baganda young people did not reside with their parents) was obliged to jump over his wife, which with the baganda is regarded as equivalent to having intercourse with her. should the girl happen to be living near her parents at the moment when she attained to puberty, she was expected on her recovery to inform them of the fact, whereupon her father jumped over her mother. were this custom omitted, the baganda, like the a-kamba, thought that the girl would never have children or that they would die in infancy.[ ] thus the pretence of sexual intercourse between the parents or other relatives of the girl was a magical ceremony to ensure her fertility. it is significant that among the baganda the first menstruation was often called a marriage, and the girl was spoken of as a bride.[ ] these terms so applied point to a belief like that of the siamese, that a girl's first menstruation results from her defloration by one of a host of aerial spirits, and that the wound thus inflicted is repeated afterwards every month by the same ghostly agency.[ ] for a like reason, probably, the baganda imagine that a woman who does not menstruate exerts a malign influence on gardens and makes them barren[ ] if she works in them. for not being herself fertilized by a spirit, how can she fertilize the garden? [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes of the tanganyika plateau.] among the amambwe, winamwanga, alungu, and other tribes of the great plateau to the west of lake tanganyika, "when a young girl knows that she has attained puberty, she forthwith leaves her mother's hut, and hides herself in the long grass near the village, covering her face with a cloth and weeping bitterly. towards sunset one of the older women--who, as directress of the ceremonies, is called _nachimbusa_-- follows her, places a cooking-pot by the cross-roads, and boils therein a concoction of various herbs, with which she anoints the neophyte. at nightfall the girl is carried on the old woman's back to her mother's hut. when the customary period of a few days has elapsed, she is allowed to cook again, after first whitewashing the floor of the hut. but, by the following month, the preparations for her initiation are complete. the novice must remain in her hut throughout the whole period of initiation, and is carefully guarded by the old women, who accompany her whenever she leaves her quarters, veiling her head with a native cloth. the ceremonies last for at least one month." during this period of seclusion, drumming and songs are kept up within the mother's hut by the village women, and no male, except, it is said, the father of twins, is allowed to enter. the directress of the rites and the older women instruct the young girl as to the elementary facts of life, the duties of marriage, and the rules of conduct, decorum, and hospitality to be observed by a married woman. amongst other things the damsel must submit to a series of tests such as leaping over fences, thrusting her head into a collar made of thorns, and so on. the lessons which she receives are illustrated by mud figures of animals and of the common objects of domestic life. moreover, the directress of studies embellishes the walls of the hut with rude pictures, each with its special significance and song, which must be understood and learned by the girl.[ ] in the foregoing account the rule that a damsel at puberty may neither see the sun nor touch the ground seems implied by the statement that on the first discovery of her condition she hides in long grass and is carried home after sunset on the back of an old woman. [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes of british central africa.] among the nyanja-speaking tribes of central angoniland, in british central africa, when a young girl finds that she has become a woman, she stands silent by the pathway leading to the village, her face wrapt in her calico. an old woman, finding her there, takes her off to a stream to bathe; after that the girl is secluded for six days in the old woman's hut. she eats her porridge out of an old basket and her relish, in which no salt is put, from a potsherd. the basket is afterwards thrown away. on the seventh day the aged matrons gather together, go with the girl to a stream, and throw her into the water. in returning they sing songs, and the old woman, who directs the proceedings, carries the maiden on her back. then they spread a mat and fetch her husband and set the two down on the mat and shave his head. when it is dark, the old women escort the girl to her husband's hut. there the _ndiwo_ relish is cooking on the fire. during the night the woman rises and puts some salt in the pot. next morning, before dawn, while all is dark and the villagers have not yet opened their doors, the young married woman goes off and gives some of the relish to her mother and to the old woman who was mistress of the ceremony. this relish she sets down at the doors of their houses and goes away. and in the morning, when the sun has risen and all is light in the village, the two women open their doors, and there they find the relish with the salt in it; and they take of it and rub it on their feet and under their arm-pits; and if there are little children in the house, they eat of it. and if the young wife has a kinsman who is absent from the village, some of the relish is put on a splinter of bamboo and kept against his return, that when he comes he, too, may rub his feet with it. but if the woman finds that her husband is impotent, she does not rise betimes and go out in the dark to lay the relish at the doors of her mother and the old woman. and in the morning, when the sun is up and all the village is light, the old women open their doors, and see no relish there, and they know what has happened, and so they go wilily to work. for they persuade the husband to consult the diviner that he may discover how to cure his impotence; and while he is closeted with the wizard, they fetch another man, who finishes the ceremony with the young wife, in order that the relish may be given out and that people may rub their feet with it. but if it happens that when a girl comes to maturity she is not yet betrothed to any man, and therefore has no husband to go to, the matrons tell her that she must go to a lover instead. and this is the custom which they call _chigango_. so in the evening she takes her cooking pot and relish and hies away to the quarters of the young bachelors, and they very civilly sleep somewhere else that night. and in the morning the girl goes back to the _kuka_ hut.[ ] [abstinence from salt associated with a rule of chastity in many tribes.] from the foregoing account it appears that among these tribes no sooner has a girl attained to womanhood than she is expected and indeed required to give proof of her newly acquired powers by cohabiting with a man, whether her husband or another. and the abstinence from salt during the girl's seclusion is all the more remarkable because as soon as the seclusion is over she has to use salt for a particular purpose, to which the people evidently attach very great importance, since in the event of her husband proving impotent she is even compelled, apparently, to commit adultery in order that the salted relish may be given out as usual. in this connexion it deserves to be noted that among the wagogo of german east africa women at their monthly periods may not sleep with their husbands and may not put salt in food.[ ] a similar rule is observed by the nyanja-speaking tribes of central angoniland, with whose puberty customs we are here concerned. among them, we are told, "some superstition exists with regard to the use of salt. a woman during her monthly sickness must on no account put salt into any food she is cooking, lest she give her husband or children a disease called _tsempo_ (_chitsoko soko_) but calls a child to put it in, or, as the song goes, '_natira nichere ni bondo chifukwa n'kupanda mwana_' and pours in the salt by placing it on her knee, because there is no child handy. should a party of villagers have gone to make salt, all sexual intercourse is forbidden among the people of the village, until the people who have gone to make the salt (from grass) return. when they do come back, they must make their entry into the village at night, and no one must see them. then one of the elders of the village sleeps with his wife. she then cooks some relish, into which she puts some of the salt. this relish is handed round to the people who went to make the salt, who rub it on their feet and under their armpits."[ ] hence it would seem that in the mind of these people abstinence from salt is somehow associated with the idea of chastity. the same association meets us in the customs of many peoples in various parts of the world. for example, ancient hindoo ritual prescribed that for three nights after a husband had brought his bride home, the two should sleep on the ground, remain chaste, and eat no salt.[ ] among the baganda, when a man was making a net, he had to refrain from eating salt and meat and from living with his wife; these restrictions he observed until the net took its first catch of fish. similarly, so long as a fisherman's nets or traps were in the water, he must live apart from his wife, and neither he nor she nor their children might eat salt or meat.[ ] evidence of the same sort could be multiplied,[ ] but without going into it further we may say that for some reason which is not obvious to us primitive man connects salt with the intercourse of the sexes and therefore forbids the use of that condiment in a variety of circumstances in which he deems continence necessary or desirable. as there is nothing which the savage regards as a greater bar between the sexes than the state of menstruation, he naturally prohibits the use of salt to women and girls at their monthly periods. [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes about lake nyassa and on the zambesi.] with the awa-nkonde, a tribe at the northern end of lake nyassa, it is a rule that after her first menstruation a girl must be kept apart, with a few companions of her own sex, in a darkened house. the floor is covered with dry banana leaves, but no fire may be lit in the house, which is called "the house of the awasungu," that is, "of maidens who have no hearts."[ ] when a girl reaches puberty, the wafiomi of eastern africa hold a festival at which they make a noise with a peculiar kind of rattle. after that the girl remains for a year in the large common hut (_tembe_), where she occupies a special compartment screened off from the men's quarters. she may not cut her hair or touch food, but is fed by other women. at night, however, she quits the hut and dances with young men.[ ] among the barotse or marotse of the upper zambesi, "when a girl arrives at the age of puberty she is sent into the fields, where a hut is constructed far from the village. there, with two or three companions, she spends a month, returning home late and starting before dawn in order not to be seen by the men. the women of the village visit her, bringing food and honey, and singing and dancing to amuse her. at the end of a month her husband comes and fetches her. it is only after this ceremony that women have the right to smear themselves with ochre."[ ] we may suspect that the chief reason why the girl during her seclusion may visit her home only by night is a fear, not so much lest she should be seen by men, as that she might be seen by the sun. among the wafiomi, as we have just learned, the young woman in similar circumstances is even free to dance with men, provided always that the dance is danced at night. the ceremonies among the barotse or marotse are somewhat more elaborate for a girl of the royal family. she is shut up for three months in a place which is kept secret from the public; only the women of her family know where it is. there she sits alone in the darkness of the hut, waited on by female slaves, who are strictly forbidden to speak and may communicate with her and with each other only by signs. during all this time, though she does nothing, she eats much, and when at last she comes forth, her appearance is quite changed, so fat has she grown. she is then led by night to the river and bathed in presence of all the women of the village. next day she flaunts before the public in her gayest attire, her head bedecked with ornaments and her face mottled with red paint. so everybody knows what has happened.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the thonga on delagoa bay.] among the northern clans of the thonga tribe, in south-eastern africa, about delagoa bay, when a girl thinks that the time of her nubility is near, she chooses an adoptive mother, perhaps in a neighbouring village. when the symptoms appear, she flies away from her own village and repairs to that of her adopted mother "to weep near her." after that she is secluded with several other girls in the same condition for a month. they are shut up in a hut, and whenever they come outside they must wear a dirty greasy cloth over their faces as a veil. every morning they are led to a pool and plunged in the water up to their necks. initiated girls or women accompany them, singing obscene songs and driving away with sticks any man who meets them; for no man may see a girl during this time of seclusion. if he saw her, it is said that he would be struck blind. on their return from the river, the girls are again imprisoned in the hut, where they remain wet and shivering, for they may not go near the fire to warm themselves. during their seclusion they listen to lascivious songs sung by grown women and are instructed in sexual matters. at the end of the month the adoptive mother brings the girl home to her true mother and presents her with a pot of beer.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the caffre tribes of south africa.] among the caffre tribes of south africa the period of a girl's seclusion at puberty varies with the rank of her father. if he is a rich man, it may last twelve days; if he is a chief, it may last twenty-four days.[ ] and when it is over, the girl rubs herself over with red earth, and strews finely powdered red earth on the ground, before she leaves the hut where she has been shut up. finally, though she was forbidden to drink milk all the days of her separation, she washes out her mouth with milk, and is from that moment regarded as a full-grown woman.[ ] afterwards, in the dusk of the evening, she carries away all the objects with which she came into contact in the hut during her seclusion and buries them secretly in a sequestered spot.[ ] when the girl is a chief's daughter the ceremonies at her liberation from the hut are more elaborate than usual. she is led forth from the hut by a son of her father's councillor, who, wearing the wings of a blue crane, the badge of bravery, on his head, escorts her to the cattle kraal, where cows are slaughtered and dancing takes place. large skins full of milk are sent to the spot from neighbouring villages; and after the dances are over the girl drinks milk for the first time since the day she entered into retreat. but the first mouthful is drunk by the girl's aunt or other female relative who had charge of her during her seclusion; and a little of it is poured on the fire-place.[ ] amongst the zulus, when the girl was a princess royal, the end of her time of separation was celebrated by a sort of saturnalia: law and order were for the time being in abeyance: every man, woman, and child might appropriate any article of property: the king abstained from interfering; and if during this reign of misrule he was robbed of anything he valued he could only recover it by paying a fine.[ ] among the basutos, when girls at puberty are bathed as usual by the matrons in a river, they are hidden separately in the turns and bends of the stream, and told to cover their heads, as they will be visited by a large serpent. their limbs are then plastered with clay, little masks of straw are put on their faces, and thus arrayed they daily follow each other in procession, singing melancholy airs, to the fields, there to learn the labours of husbandry in which a great part of their adult life will be passed.[ ] we may suppose, though we are not told, that the straw masks which they wear in these processions are intended to hide their faces from the gaze of men and the rays of the sun. [seclusion of girls at puberty in the lower congo.] among the tribes in the lower valley of the congo, such as the bavili, when a girl arrives at puberty, she has to pass two or three months in seclusion in a small hut built for the purpose. the hair of her head is shaved off, and every day the whole of her body is smeared with a red paint (_takulla_) made from a powdered wood mixed with water. some of her companions reside in the hut with her and prepare the paint for her use. a woman is appointed to take charge of the hut and to keep off intruders. at the end of her confinement she is taken to water by the women of her family and bathed; the paint is rubbed off her body, her arms and legs are loaded with brass rings, and she is led in solemn procession under an umbrella to her husband's house. if these ceremonies were not performed, the people believe that the girl would be barren or would give birth to monsters, that the rain would cease to fall, the earth to bear fruit, and the fishing to be successful.[ ] such serious importance do these savages ascribe to the performance of rites which to us seem so childish. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, new guinea, and indonesia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland.] in new ireland girls are confined for four or five years in small cages, being kept in the dark and not allowed to set foot on the ground. the custom has been thus described by an eye-witness. "i heard from a teacher about some strange custom connected with some of the young girls here, so i asked the chief to take me to the house where they were. the house was about twenty-five feet in length, and stood in a reed and bamboo enclosure, across the entrance to which a bundle of dried grass was suspended to show that it was strictly '_tabu_.' inside the house were three conical structures about seven or eight feet in height, and about ten or twelve feet in circumference at the bottom, and for about four feet from the ground, at which point they tapered off to a point at the top. these cages were made of the broad leaves of the pandanus-tree, sewn quite close together so that no light and little or no air could enter. on one side of each is an opening which is closed by a double door of plaited cocoa-nut tree and pandanus-tree leaves. about three feet from the ground there is a stage of bamboos which forms the floor. in each of these cages we were told there was a young woman confined, each of whom had to remain for at least four or five years, without ever being allowed to go outside the house. i could scarcely credit the story when i heard it; the whole thing seemed too horrible to be true. i spoke to the chief, and told him that i wished to see the inside of the cages, and also to see the girls that i might make them a present of a few beads. he told me that it was '_tabu_,' forbidden for any men but their own relations to look at them; but i suppose the promised beads acted as an inducement, and so he sent away for some old lady who had charge, and who alone is allowed to open the doors. while we were waiting we could hear the girls talking to the chief in a querulous way as if objecting to something or expressing their fears. the old woman came at length and certainly she did not seem a very pleasant jailor or guardian; nor did she seem to favour the request of the chief to allow us to see the girls, as she regarded us with anything but pleasant looks. however, she had to undo the door when the chief told her to do so, and then the girls peeped out at us, and, when told to do so, they held out their hands for the beads. i, however, purposely sat at some distance away and merely held out the beads to them, as i wished to draw them quite outside, that i might inspect the inside of the cages. this desire of mine gave rise to another difficulty, as these girls were not allowed to put their feet to the ground all the time they were confined in these places. however, they wished to get the beads, and so the old lady had to go outside and collect a lot of pieces of wood and bamboo, which she placed on the ground, and then going to one of the girls, she helped her down and held her hand as she stepped from one piece of wood to another until she came near enough to get the beads i held out to her. i then went to inspect the inside of the cage out of which she had come, but could scarcely put my head inside of it, the atmosphere was so hot and stifling. it was clean and contained nothing but a few short lengths of bamboo for holding water. there was only room for the girl to sit or lie down in a crouched position on the bamboo platform, and when the doors are shut it must be nearly or quite dark inside. the girls are never allowed to come out except once a day to bathe in a dish or wooden bowl placed close to each cage. they say that they perspire profusely. they are placed in these stifling cages when quite young, and must remain there until they are young women, when they are taken out and have each a great marriage feast provided for them. one of them was about fourteen or fifteen years old, and the chief told us that she had been there for five years, but would soon be taken out now. the other two were about eight and ten years old, and they have to stay there for several years longer."[ ] a more recent observer has described the custom as it is observed on the western coast of new ireland. he says: "a _buck_ is the name of a little house, not larger than an ordinary hen-coop, in which a little girl is shut up, sometimes for weeks only, and at other times for months.... briefly stated, the custom is this. girls, on attaining puberty or betrothal, are enclosed in one of these little coops for a considerable time. they must remain there night and day. we saw two of these girls in two coops; the girls were not more than ten years old, still they were lying in a doubled-up position, as their little houses would not admit of them lying in any other way. these two coops were inside a large house; but the chief, in consideration of a present of a couple of tomahawks, ordered the ends to be torn out of the house to admit the light, so that we might photograph the _buck_. the occupant was allowed to put her face through an opening to be photographed, in consideration of another present."[ ] as a consequence of their long enforced idleness in the shade the girls grow fat and their dusky complexion bleaches to a more pallid hue. both their corpulence and their pallor are regarded as beauties.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in new guinea, borneo, ceram and yap.] in kabadi, a district of british new guinea, "daughters of chiefs, when they are about twelve or thirteen years of age, are kept indoors for two or three years, never being allowed, under any pretence, to descend from the house, and the house is so shaded that the sun cannot shine on them."[ ] among the yabim and bukaua, two neighbouring and kindred tribes on the coast of german new guinea, a girl at puberty is secluded for some five or six weeks in an inner part of the house; but she may not sit on the floor, lest her uncleanness should cleave to it, so a log of wood is placed for her to squat on. moreover, she may not touch the ground with her feet; hence if she is obliged to quit the house for a short time, she is muffled up in mats and walks on two halves of a coconut shell, which are fastened like sandals to her feet by creeping plants. during her seclusion she is in charge of her aunts or other female relatives. at the end of the time she bathes, her person is loaded with ornaments, her face is grotesquely painted with red stripes on a white ground, and thus adorned she is brought forth in public to be admired by everybody. she is now marriageable.[ ] among the ot danoms of borneo girls at the age of eight or ten years are shut up in a little room or cell of the house, and cut off from all intercourse with the world for a long time. the cell, like the rest of the house, is raised on piles above the ground, and is lit by a single small window opening on a lonely place, so that the girl is in almost total darkness. she may not leave the room on any pretext whatever, not even for the most necessary purposes. none of her family may see her all the time she is shut up, but a single slave woman is appointed to wait on her. during her lonely confinement, which often lasts seven years, the girl occupies herself in weaving mats or with other handiwork. her bodily growth is stunted by the long want of exercise, and when, on attaining womanhood, she is brought out, her complexion is pale and wax-like. she is now shewn the sun, the earth, the water, the trees, and the flowers, as if she were newly born. then a great feast is made, a slave is killed, and the girl is smeared with his blood.[ ] in ceram girls at puberty were formerly shut up by themselves in a hut which was kept dark.[ ] in yap, one of the caroline islands, should a girl be overtaken by her first menstruation on the public road, she may not sit down on the earth, but must beg for a coco-nut shell to put under her. she is shut up for several days in a small hut at a distance from her parents' house, and afterwards she is bound to sleep for a hundred days in one of the special houses which are provided for the use of menstruous women.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in the torres straits islands and northern australia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty in mabuiag, torres straits.] in the island of mabuiag, torres straits, when the signs of puberty appear on a girl, a circle of bushes is made in a dark corner of the house. here, decked with shoulder-belts, armlets, leglets just below the knees, and anklets, wearing a chaplet on her head, and shell ornaments in her ears, on her chest, and on her back, she squats in the midst of the bushes, which are piled so high round about her that only her head is visible. in this state of seclusion she must remain for three months. all this time the sun may not shine upon her, but at night she is allowed to slip out of the hut, and the bushes that hedge her in are then changed. she may not feed herself or handle food, but is fed by one or two old women, her maternal aunts, who are especially appointed to look after her. one of these women cooks food for her at a special fire in the forest. the girl is forbidden to eat turtle or turtle eggs during the season when the turtles are breeding; but no vegetable food is refused her. no man, not even her own father, may come into the house while her seclusion lasts; for if her father saw her at this time he would certainly have bad luck in his fishing, and would probably smash his canoe the very next time he went out in it. at the end of the three months she is carried down to a fresh-water creek by her attendants, hanging on to their shoulders in such a way that her feet do not touch the ground, while the women of the tribe form a ring round her, and thus escort her to the beach. arrived at the shore, she is stripped of her ornaments, and the bearers stagger with her into the creek, where they immerse her, and all the other women join in splashing water over both the girl and her bearers. when they come out of the water one of the two attendants makes a heap of grass for her charge to squat upon. the other runs to the reef, catches a small crab, tears off its claws, and hastens back with them to the creek. here in the meantime a fire has been kindled, and the claws are roasted at it. the girl is then fed by her attendants with the roasted claws. after that she is freshly decorated, and the whole party marches back to the village in a single rank, the girl walking in the centre between her two old aunts, who hold her by the wrists. the husbands of her aunts now receive her and lead her into the house of one of them, where all partake of food, and the girl is allowed once more to feed herself in the usual manner. a dance follows, in which the girl takes a prominent part, dancing between the husbands of the two aunts who had charge of her in her retirement.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in northern australia.] among the yaraikanna tribe of cape york peninsula, in northern queensland, a girl at puberty is said to live by herself for a month or six weeks; no man may see her, though any woman may. she stays in a hut or shelter specially made for her, on the floor of which she lies supine. she may not see the sun, and towards sunset she must keep her eyes shut until the sun has gone down, otherwise it is thought that her nose will be diseased. during her seclusion she may eat nothing that lives in salt water, or a snake would kill her. an old woman waits upon her and supplies her with roots, yams, and water.[ ] some tribes are wont to bury their girls at such seasons more or less deeply in the ground, perhaps in order to hide them from the light of the sun. thus the larrakeeyah tribe in the northern territory of south australia used to cover a girl up with dirt for three days at her first monthly period.[ ] in similar circumstances the otati tribe, on the east coast of the cape york peninsula, make an excavation in the ground, where the girl squats. a bower is then built over the hole, and sand is thrown on the young woman till she is covered up to the hips. in this condition she remains for the first day, but comes out at night. so long as the period lasts, she stays in the bower during the day-time, but is not again covered with sand. afterwards her body is painted red and white from the head to the hips, and she returns to the camp, where she squats first on the right side, then on the left side, and then on the lap of her future husband, who has been previously selected for her.[ ] among the natives of the pennefather river, in the cape york peninsula, queensland, when a girl menstruates for the first time, her mother takes her away from the camp to some secluded spot, where she digs a circular hole in the sandy soil under the shade of a tree. in this hole the girl squats with crossed legs and is covered with sand from the waist downwards. a digging-stick is planted firmly in the sand on each side of her, and the place is surrounded by a fence of bushes except in front, where her mother kindles a fire. here the girl stays all day, sitting with her arms crossed and the palms of her hands resting on the sand. she may not move her arms except to take food from her mother or to scratch herself; and in scratching herself she may not touch herself with her own hands, but must use for the purpose a splinter of wood, which, when it is not in use, is stuck in her hair. she may speak to nobody but her mother; indeed nobody else would think of coming near her. at evening she lays hold of the two digging-sticks and by their help frees herself from the superincumbent weight of sand and returns to the camp. next morning she is again buried in the sand under the shade of the tree and remains there again till evening. this she does daily for five days. on her return at evening on the fifth day her mother decorates her with a waist-band, a forehead-band, and a necklet of pearl-shell, ties green parrot feathers round her arms and wrists and across her chest, and smears her body, back and front, from the waist upwards with blotches of red, white, and yellow paint. she has in like manner to be buried in the sand at her second and third menstruations, but at the fourth she is allowed to remain in camp, only signifying her condition by wearing a basket of empty shells on her back.[ ] among the kia blacks of the prosperine river, on the east coast of queensland, a girl at puberty has to sit or lie down in a shallow pit away from the camp; a rough hut of bushes is erected over her to protect her from the inclemency of the weather. there she stays for about a week, waited on by her mother and sister, the only persons to whom she may speak. she is allowed to drink water, but may not touch it with her hands; and she may scratch herself a little with a mussel-shell. this seclusion is repeated at her second and third monthly periods, but when the third is over she is brought to her husband bedecked with savage finery. eagle-hawk or cockatoo feathers are stuck in her hair: a shell hangs over her forehead: grass bugles encircle her neck and an apron of opossum skin her waist: strings are tied to her arms and wrists; and her whole body is mottled with patterns drawn in red, white, and yellow pigments and charcoal.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in the islands of torres straits.] among the uiyumkwi tribe in red island the girl lies at full length in a shallow trench dug in the foreshore, and sand is lightly thrown over her legs and body up to the breasts, which appear not to be covered. a rough shelter of boughs is then built over her, and thus she remains lying for a few hours. then she and her attendant go into the bush and look for food, which they cook at a fire close to the shelter. they sleep under the boughs, the girl remaining secluded from the camp but apparently not being again buried. at the end of the symptoms she stands over hot stones and water is poured over her, till, trickling from her body on the stones, it is converted into steam and envelops her in a cloud of vapour. then she is painted with red and white stripes and returns to the camp. if her future husband has already been chosen, she goes to him and they eat some food together, which the girl has previously brought from the bush.[ ] in prince of wales island, torres strait, the treatment of the patient is similar, but lasts for about two months. during the day she lies covered up with sand in a shallow hole on the beach, over which a hut is built. at night she may get out of the hole, but she may not leave the hut. her paternal aunt looks after her, and both of them must abstain from eating turtle, dugong, and the heads of fish. were they to eat the heads of fish no more fish would be caught. during the time of the girl's seclusion, the aunt who waits upon her has the right to enter any house and take from it anything she likes without payment, provided she does so before the sun rises. when the time of her retirement has come to an end, the girl bathes in the sea while the morning star is rising, and after performing various other ceremonies is readmitted to society.[ ] in saibai, another island of torres straits, at her first monthly sickness a girl lives secluded in the forest for about a fortnight, during which no man may see her; even the women who have spoken to her in the forest must wash in salt water before they speak to a man. two girls wait upon and feed the damsel, putting the food into her mouth, for she is not allowed to touch it with her own hands. nor may she eat dugong and turtle. at the end of a fortnight the girl and her attendants bathe in salt water while the tide is running out. afterwards they are clean, may again speak to men without ceremony, and move freely about the village. in yam and tutu a girl at puberty retires for a month to the forest, where no man nor even her own mother may look upon her. she is waited on by women who stand to her in a certain relationship (_mowai_), apparently her paternal aunts. she is blackened all over with charcoal and wears a long petticoat reaching below her knees. during her seclusion the married women of the village often assemble in the forest and dance, and the girl's aunts relieve the tedium of the proceedings by thrashing her from time to time as a useful preparation for matrimony. at the end of a month the whole party go into the sea, and the charcoal is washed off the girl. after that she is decorated, her body blackened again, her hair reddened with ochre, and in the evening she is brought back to her father's house, where she is received with weeping and lamentation because she has been so long away.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of north america_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of california] among the indians of california a girl at her first menstruation "was thought to be possessed of a particular degree of supernatural power, and this was not always regarded as entirely defiling or malevolent. often, however, there was a strong feeling of the power of evil inherent in her condition. not only was she secluded from her family and the community, but an attempt was made to seclude the world from her. one of the injunctions most strongly laid upon her was not to look about her. she kept her head bowed and was forbidden to see the world and the sun. some tribes covered her with a blanket. many of the customs in this connection resembled those of the north pacific coast most strongly, such as the prohibition to the girl to touch or scratch her head with her hand, a special implement being furnished her for the purpose. sometimes she could eat only when fed and in other cases fasted altogether. some form of public ceremony, often accompanied by a dance and sometimes by a form of ordeal for the girl, was practised nearly everywhere. such ceremonies were well developed in southern california, where a number of actions symbolical of the girl's maturity and subsequent life were performed."[ ] thus among the maidu indians of california a girl at puberty remained shut up in a small separate hut. for five days she might not eat flesh or fish nor feed herself, but was fed by her mother or other old woman. she had a basket, plate, and cup for her own use, and a stick with which to scratch her head, for she might not scratch it with her fingers. at the end of five days she took a warm bath and, while she still remained in the hut and plied the scratching-stick on her head, was privileged to feed herself with her own hands. after five days more she bathed in the river, after which her parents gave a great feast in her honour. at the feast the girl was dressed in her best, and anybody might ask her parents for anything he pleased, and they had to give it, even if it was the hand of their daughter in marriage. during the period of her seclusion in the hut the girl was allowed to go by night to her parents' house and listen to songs sung by her friends and relations, who assembled for the purpose. among the songs were some that related to the different roots and seeds which in these tribes it is the business of women to gather for food. while the singers sang, she sat by herself in a corner of the house muffled up completely in mats and skins; no man or boy might come near her.[ ] among the hupa, another indian tribe of california, when a girl had reached maturity her male relatives danced all night for nine successive nights, while the girl remained apart, eating no meat and blindfolded. but on the tenth night she entered the house and took part in the last dance.[ ] among the wintun, another californian tribe, a girl at puberty was banished from the camp and lived alone in a distant booth, fasting rigidly from animal food; it was death to any person to touch or even approach her.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of washington state.] in the interior of washington state, about colville, "the customs of the indians, in relation to the treatment of females, are singular. on the first appearance of the menses, they are furnished with provisions, and sent into the woods, to remain concealed for two days; for they have a superstition, that if a man should be seen or met with during that time, death will be the consequence. at the end of the second day, the woman is permitted to return to the lodge, when she is placed in a hut just large enough for her to lie in at full length, in which she is compelled to remain for twenty days, cut off from all communication with her friends, and is obliged to hide her face at the appearance of a man. provisions are supplied her daily. after this, she is required to perform repeated ablutions, before she can resume her place in the family. at every return, the women go into seclusion for two or more days."[ ] among the chinook indians who inhabited the coast of washington state, from shoalwater bay as far as grey's harbour, when a chief's daughter attained to puberty, she was hidden for five days from the view of the people; she might not look at them nor at the sky, nor might she pick berries. it was believed that if she were to look at the sky, the weather would be bad; that if she picked berries, it would rain; and that when she hung her towel of cedar-bark on a spruce-tree, the tree withered up at once. she went out of the house by a separate door and bathed in a creek far from the village. she fasted for some days, and for many days more she might not eat fresh food.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the nootka indians of vancouver island.] amongst the aht or nootka indians of vancouver island, when girls reach puberty they are placed in a sort of gallery in the house "and are there surrounded completely with mats, so that neither the sun nor any fire can be seen. in this cage they remain for several days. water is given them, but no food. the longer a girl remains in this retirement the greater honour is it to the parents; but she is disgraced for life if it is known that she has seen fire or the sun during this initiatory ordeal."[ ] pictures of the mythical thunder-bird are painted on the screens behind which she hides. during her seclusion she may neither move nor lie down, but must always sit in a squatting posture. she may not touch her hair with her hands, but is allowed to scratch her head with a comb or a piece of bone provided for the purpose. to scratch her body is also forbidden, as it is believed that every scratch would leave a scar. for eight months after reaching maturity she may not eat any fresh food, particularly salmon; moreover, she must eat by herself, and use a cup and dish of her own.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands.] among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands girls at puberty were secluded behind screens in the house for about twenty days. in some parts of the islands separate fires were provided for the girls, and they went out and in by a separate door at the back of the house. if a girl at such a time was obliged to go out by the front door, all the weapons, gambling-sticks, medicine, and other articles had to be removed from the house till her return, for otherwise it was thought that they would be unlucky; and if there was a good hunter in the house, he also had to go out at the same time on pain of losing his good luck if he remained. during several months or even half a year the girl was bound to wear a peculiar cloak or hood made of cedar-bark, nearly conical in shape and reaching down below the breast, but open before the face. after the twenty days were over the girl took a bath; none of the water might be spilled, it had all to be taken back to the woods, else the girl would not live long. on the west coast of the islands the damsel might eat nothing but black cod for four years; for the people believed that other kinds of fish would become scarce if she partook of them. at kloo the young woman at such times was forbidden to look at the sea, and for forty days she might not gaze at the fire; for a whole year she might not walk on the beach below high-water mark, because then the tide would come in, covering part of the food supply, and there would be bad weather. for five years she might not eat salmon, or the fish would be scarce; and when her family went to a salmon-creek, she landed from the canoe at the mouth of the creek and came to the smoke-house from behind; for were she to see a salmon leap, all the salmon might leave the creek. among the haidas of masset it was believed that if the girl looked at the sky, the weather would be bad, and that if she stepped over a salmon-creek, all the salmon would disappear.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tlingit indians of alaska.] amongst the tlingit (thlinkeet) or kolosh indians of alaska, when a girl shewed signs of womanhood she used to be confined to a little hut or cage, which was completely blocked up with the exception of a small air-hole. in this dark and filthy abode she had to remain a year, without fire, exercise, or associates. only her mother and a female slave might supply her with nourishment. her food was put in at the little window; she had to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle. the time of her seclusion was afterwards reduced in some places to six or three months or even less. she had to wear a sort of hat with long flaps, that her gaze might not pollute the sky; for she was thought unfit for the sun to shine upon, and it was imagined that her look would destroy the luck of a hunter, fisher, or gambler, turn things to stone, and do other mischief. at the end of her confinement her old clothes were burnt, new ones were made, and a feast was given, at which a slit was cut in her under lip parallel to the mouth, and a piece of wood or shell was inserted to keep the aperture open.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tsetsaut and bella coola indians of british columbia.] in the tsetsaut tribe of british columbia a girl at puberty wears a large hat of skin which comes down over her face and screens it from the sun. it is believed that if she were to expose her face to the sun or to the sky, rain would fall. the hat protects her face also against the fire, which ought not to strike her skin; to shield her hands she wears mittens. in her mouth she carries the tooth of an animal to prevent her own teeth from becoming hollow. for a whole year she may not see blood unless her face is blackened; otherwise she would grow blind. for two years she wears the hat and lives in a hut by herself, although she is allowed to see other people. at the end of two years a man takes the hat from her head and throws it away.[ ] in the bilqula or bella coola tribe of british columbia, when a girl attains puberty she must stay in the shed which serves as her bedroom, where she has a separate fireplace. she is not allowed to descend to the main part of the house, and may not sit by the fire of the family. for four days she is bound to remain motionless in a sitting posture. she fasts during the day, but is allowed a little food and drink very early in the morning. after the four days' seclusion she may leave her room, but only through a separate opening cut in the floor, for the houses are raised on piles. she may not yet come into the chief room. in leaving the house she wears a large hat which protects her face against the rays of the sun. it is believed that if the sun were to shine on her face her eyes would suffer. she may pick berries on the hills, but may not come near the river or sea for a whole year. were she to eat fresh salmon she would lose her senses, or her mouth would be changed into a long beak.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tinneh indians of british columbia.] among the tinneh indians about stuart lake, babine lake, and fraser lake in british columbia "girls verging on maturity, that is when their breasts begin to form, take swans' feathers mixed with human hair and plait bands, which they tie round their wrists and ankles to secure long life. at this time they are careful that the dishes out of which they eat, are used by no other person, and wholly devoted to their own use; during this period they eat nothing but dog fish, and starvation _only_ will drive them to eat either fresh fish or meat. when their first periodical sickness comes on, they are fed by their mothers or nearest female relation by _themselves_, and on no account will they touch their food with their own hands. they are at this time also careful not to touch their heads with their hands, and keep a small stick to scratch their heads with. they remain outside the lodge, all the time they are in this state, in a hut made for the purpose. during all this period they wear a skull-cap made of skin to fit very tight; this is never taken off until their first monthly sickness ceases; they also wear a strip of black paint about one inch wide across their eyes, and wear a fringe of shells, bones, etc., hanging down from their foreheads to below their eyes; and this is never taken off till the second monthly period arrives and ceases, when the nearest male relative makes a feast; after which she is considered a fully matured woman; but she has to refrain from eating anything fresh for one year after her first monthly sickness; she may however eat partridge, but it must be cooked in the crop of the bird to render it harmless. i would have thought it impossible to perform this feat had i not seen it done. the crop is blown out, and a small bent willow put round the mouth; it is then filled with water, and the meat being first minced up, put in also, then put on the fire and boiled till cooked. their reason for hanging fringes before their eyes, is to hinder any bad medicine man from harming them during this critical period: they are very careful not to drink whilst facing a medicine man, and do so only when their backs are turned to him. all these habits are left off when the girl is a recognised woman, with the exception of their going out of the lodge and remaining in a hut, every time their periodical sickness comes on. this is a rigidly observed law with both single and married women."[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tinneh indians of alaska.] among the hareskin tinneh a girl at puberty was secluded for five days in a hut made specially for the purpose; she might only drink out of a tube made from a swan's bone, and for a month she might not break a hare's bones, nor taste blood, nor eat the heart or fat of animals, nor birds' eggs.[ ] among the tinneh indians of the middle yukon valley, in alaska, the period of the girl's seclusion lasts exactly a lunar month; for the day of the moon on which the symptoms first occur is noted, and she is sequestered until the same day of the next moon. if the season is winter, a corner of the house is curtained off for her use by a blanket or a sheet of canvas; if it is summer, a small tent is erected for her near the common one. here she lives and sleeps. she wears a long robe and a large hood, which she must pull down over her eyes whenever she leaves the hut, and she must keep it down till she returns. she may not speak to a man nor see his face, much less touch his clothes or anything that belongs to him; for if she did so, though no harm would come to her, he would grow unmanly. she has her own dishes for eating out of and may use no other; at kaltag she must suck the water through a swan's bone without applying her lips to the cup. she may eat no fresh meat or fish except the flesh of the porcupine. she may not undress, but sleeps with all her clothes on, even her mittens. in her socks she wears, next to the skin, the horny soles cut from the feet of a porcupine, in order that for the rest of her life her shoes may never wear out. round her waist she wears a cord to which are tied the heads of femurs of a porcupine; because of all animals known to the tinneh the porcupine suffers least in parturition, it simply drops its young and continues to walk or skip about as if nothing had happened. hence it is easy to see that a girl who wears these portions of a porcupine about her waist, will be delivered just as easily as the animal. to make quite sure of this, if anybody happens to kill a porcupine big with young while the girl is undergoing her period of separation, the foetus is given to her, and she lets it slide down between her shirt and her body so as to fall on the ground like an infant.[ ] here the imitation of childbirth is a piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic designed to facilitate the effect which it simulates.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the thompson indians of british columbia.] among the thompson indians of british columbia, when a girl attained puberty, she was at once separated from all the people. a conical hut of fir branches and bark was erected at some little distance from the other houses, and in it the girl had to squat on her heels during the day. often a deep circular hole was dug in the hut and the girl squatted in the hole, with her head projecting above the surface of the ground. she might quit the hut for various purposes in the early morning, but had always to be back at sunrise. on the first appearance of the symptoms her face was painted red all over, and the paint was renewed every morning during her term of seclusion. a heavy blanket swathed her body from top to toe, and during the first four days she wore a conical cap made of small fir branches, which reached below the breast but left an opening for the face. in her hair was fastened an implement made of deer-bone with which she scratched herself. for the first four days she might neither wash nor eat, but a little water was given her in a birch-bark cup painted red, and she sucked up the liquid through a tube made out of the leg of a crane, a swan, or a goose, for her lips might not touch the surface of the water. after the four days she was allowed, during the rest of the period of isolation, to eat, to wash, to lie down, to comb her hair, and to drink of streams and springs. but in drinking at these sources she had still to use her tube, otherwise the spring would dry up. while her seclusion lasted she performed by night various ceremonies, which were supposed to exert a beneficial influence on her future life. for example, she ran as fast as she could, praying at the same time to the earth or nature that she might be fleet of foot and tireless of limb. she dug trenches, in order that in after life she might be able to dig well and to work hard. these and other ceremonies she repeated for four nights or mornings in succession, four times each morning, and each time she supplicated the dawn of the day. among the lower thompson indians she carried a staff for one night; and when the day was breaking she leaned the staff against the stump of a tree and prayed to the dawn that she might be blessed with a good husband, who was symbolized by the staff. she also wandered some nights to lonely parts of the mountains, where she would dance, imploring the spirits to pity and protect her during her future life; then, the dance and prayer over, she would lie down on the spot and fall asleep. again, she carried four stones in her bosom to a spring, where she spat upon the stones and threw them one after the other into the water, praying that all disease might leave her, as these stones did. also she ran four times in the early morning with two small stones in her bosom; and as she ran the stones slipped down between her bare body and her clothes and fell to the ground. at the same time she prayed to the dawn that when she should be with child, she might be delivered as easily as she was delivered of these stones. but whatever exercises she performed or prayers she offered on the lonely mountains during the hours of darkness or while the morning light was growing in the east, she must always be back in her little hut before the sun rose. there she often passed the tedious hours away picking the needles, one by one, from the cones on two large branches of fir, which hung from the roof of her hut on purpose to provide her with occupation. and as she picked she prayed to the fir-branch that she might never be lazy, but always quick and active at work. during her seclusion, too, she had to make miniatures of all the articles that indian women make, or used to make, such as baskets, mats, ropes, and thread. this she did in order that afterwards she might be able to make the real things properly. four large fir-branches also were placed in front of the hut, so that when she went out or in, she had to step over them. the branches were renewed every morning and the old ones thrown away into the water, while the girl prayed, "may i never bewitch any man, nor my fellow-women! may it never happen!" the first four times that she went out and in, she prayed to the fir-branches, saying, "if ever i step into trouble or difficulties or step unknowingly inside the magical spell of some person, may you help me, o fir-branches, with your power!" every day she painted her face afresh, and she wore strings of parts of deer-hoofs round her ankles and knees, and tied to her waistband on either side, which rattled when she walked or ran. even the shape of the hut in which she lived was adapted to her future rather than to her present needs and wishes. if she wished to be tall, the hut was tall; if she wished to be short, it was low, sometimes so low that there was not room in it for her to stand erect, and she would lay the palm of her hand on the top of her head and pray to the dawn that she might grow no taller. her seclusion lasted four months. the indians say that long ago it extended over a year, and that fourteen days elapsed before the girl was permitted to wash for the first time. the dress which she wore during her time of separation was afterwards taken to the top of a hill and burned, and the rest of her clothes were hung up on trees.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the lillooet indians of british columbia.] among the lillooet indians of british columbia, neighbours of the thompsons, the customs observed by girls at puberty were similar. the damsels were secluded for a period of not less than one year nor more than four years, according to their own inclination and the wishes of their parents. among the upper lillooets the hut in which the girl lodged was made of bushy fir-trees set up like a conical tent, the inner branches being lopped off, while the outer branches were closely interwoven and padded to form a roof. every month or half-month the hut was shifted to another site or a new one erected. by day the girl sat in the hut; for the first month she squatted in a hole dug in the middle of it; and she passed the time making miniature baskets of birch-bark and other things, praying that she might be able to make the real things well in after years. at the dusk of the evening she left the hut and wandered about all night, but she returned before the sun rose. before she quitted the hut at nightfall to roam abroad, she painted her face red and put on a mask of fir-branches, and in her hand, as she walked, she carried a basket-rattle to frighten ghosts and guard herself from evil. among the lower lillooets, the girl's mask was often made of goat-skin, covering her head, neck, shoulders and breast, and leaving only a narrow opening from the brow to the chin. during the nocturnal hours she performed many ceremonies. thus she put two smooth stones in her bosom and ran, and as they fell down between her body and her clothes, she prayed, saying, "may i always have easy child-births!" now one of these stones represented her future child and the other represented the afterbirth. also she dug trenches, praying that in the years to come she might be strong and tireless in digging roots; she picked leaves and needles from the fir-trees, praying that her fingers might be nimble in picking berries; and she tore sheets of birch-bark into shreds, dropping the shreds as she walked and asking that her hands might never tire and that she might make neat and fine work of birch-bark. moreover, she ran and walked much that she might be light of foot. and every evening, when the shadows were falling, and every morning, when the day was breaking, she prayed to the dusk of the evening or to the dawn of day, saying, "o dawn of day!" or "o dusk," as it might be, "may i be able to dig roots fast and easily, and may i always find plenty!" all her prayers were addressed to the dusk of the evening or the dawn of day. she supplicated both, asking for long life, health, wealth, and happiness.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the shuswap indians of british columbia.] among the shuswap indians of british columbia, who are neighbours of the thompsons and lillooets, "a girl on reaching maturity has to go through a great number of ceremonies. she must leave the village and live alone in a small hut on the mountains. she cooks her own food, and must not eat anything that bleeds. she is forbidden to touch her head, for which purpose she uses a comb with three points. neither is she allowed to scratch her body, except with a painted deer-bone. she wears the bone and the comb suspended from her belt. she drinks out of a painted cup of birch-bark, and neither more nor less than the quantity it holds. every night she walks about her hut, and plants willow twigs, which she has painted, and to the ends of which she has attached pieces of cloth, into the ground. it is believed that thus she will become rich in later life. in order to become strong she should climb trees and try to break off their points. she plays with _lehal_ sticks that her future husbands might have good luck when gambling."[ ] during the day the girl stays in her hut and occupies herself in making miniature bags, mats, and baskets, in sewing and embroidery, in manufacturing thread, twine, and so forth; in short she makes a beginning of all kinds of woman's work, in order that she may be a good housewife in after life. by night she roams the mountains and practises running, climbing, carrying burdens, and digging trenches, so that she may be expert at digging roots. if she has wandered far and daylight overtakes her, she hides herself behind a veil of fir branches; for no one, except her instructor or nearest relatives, should see her face during her period of seclusion. she wore a large robe painted red on the breast and sides, and her hair was done up in a knot at each ear.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the delaware and cheyenne indians.] ceremonies of the same general type were probably observed by girls at puberty among all the indian tribes of north america. but the record of them is far less full for the central and eastern tribes, perhaps because the settlers who first came into contact with the red man in these regions were too busy fighting him to find leisure, even if they had the desire, to study his manners and customs. however, among the delaware indians, a tribe in the extreme east of the continent, we read that "when a delaware girl has her first monthly period, she must withdraw into a hut at some distance from the village. her head is wrapped up for twelve days, so that she can see nobody, and she must submit to frequent vomits and fasting, and abstain from all labor. after this she is washed and new clothed, but confined to a solitary life for two months, at the close of which she is declared marriageable."[ ] again, among the cheyennes, an indian tribe of the missouri valley, a girl at her first menstruation is painted red all over her body and secluded in a special little lodge for four days. however, she may remain in her father's lodge provided that there are no charms ("medicine"), no sacred bundle, and no shield in it, or that these and all other objects invested with a sacred character have been removed. for four days she may not eat boiled meat; the flesh of which she partakes must be roasted over coals. young men will not eat from the dish nor drink from the pot, which has been used by her; because they believe that were they to do so they would be wounded in the next fight. she may not handle nor even touch any weapon of war or any sacred object. if the camp moves, she may not ride a horse, but is mounted on a mare.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the esquimaux.] among the esquimaux also, in the extreme north of the continent, who belong to an entirely different race from the indians, the attainment of puberty in the female sex is, or used to be, the occasion of similar observances. thus among the koniags, an esquimau people of alaska, a girl at puberty was placed in a small hut in which she had to remain on her hands and knees for six months; then the hut was enlarged a little so as to allow her to straighten her back, but in this posture she had to remain for six months more. all this time she was regarded as an unclean being with whom no one might hold intercourse. at the end of the year she was received back by her parents and a great feast held.[ ] again, among the malemut, and southward from the lower yukon and adjacent districts, when a girl reaches the age of puberty she is considered unclean for forty days and must therefore live by herself in a corner of the house with her face to the wall, always keeping her hood over her head and her hair hanging dishevelled over her eyes. but if it is summer, she commonly lives in a rough shelter outside the house. she may not go out by day, and only once at night, when every one else is asleep. at the end of the period she bathes and is clothed in new garments, whereupon she may be taken in marriage. during her seclusion she is supposed to be enveloped in a peculiar atmosphere of such a sort that were a young man to come near enough for it to touch him, it would render him visible to every animal he might hunt, so that his luck as a hunter would be gone.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of south america_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the guaranis, chiriguanos, and lengua indians of south america.] when symptoms of puberty appeared on a girl for the first time, the guaranis of southern brazil, on the borders of paraguay, used to sew her up in her hammock, leaving only a small opening in it to allow her to breathe. in this condition, wrapt up and shrouded like a corpse, she was kept for two or three days or so long as the symptoms lasted, and during this time she had to observe a most rigorous fast. after that she was entrusted to a matron, who cut the girl's hair and enjoined her to abstain most strictly from eating flesh of any kind until her hair should be grown long enough to hide her ears. meanwhile the diviners drew omens of her future character from the various birds or animals that flew past or crossed her path. if they saw a parrot, they would say she was a chatterbox; if an owl, she was lazy and useless for domestic labours, and so on.[ ] in similar circumstances the chiriguanos of southeastern bolivia hoisted the girl in her hammock to the roof, where she stayed for a month: the second month the hammock was let half-way down from the roof; and in the third month old women, armed with sticks, entered the hut and ran about striking everything they met, saying they were hunting the snake that had wounded the girl.[ ] the lengua indians of the paraguayan chaco under similar circumstances hang the girl in her hammock from the roof of the house, but they leave her there only three days and nights, during which they give her nothing to eat but a little paraguay tea or boiled maize. only her mother or grandmother has access to her; nobody else approaches or speaks to her. if she is obliged to leave the hammock for a little, her friends take great care to prevent her from touching the _boyrusu_, which is an imaginary serpent that would swallow her up. she must also be very careful not to set foot on the droppings of fowls or animals, else she would suffer from sores on the throat and breast. on the third day they let her down from the hammock, cut her hair, and make her sit in a corner of the room with her face turned to the wall. she may speak to nobody, and must abstain from flesh and fish. these rigorous observances she must practise for nearly a year. many girls die or are injured for life in consequence of the hardships they endure at this time. their only occupations during their seclusion are spinning and weaving.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the yuracares of bolivia.] among the yuracares, an indian tribe of bolivia, at the eastern foot of the andes, when a girl perceives the signs of puberty, she informs her parents. the mother weeps and the father constructs a little hut of palm leaves near the house. in this cabin he shuts up his daughter so that she cannot see the light, and there she remains fasting rigorously for four days. meantime the mother, assisted by the women of the neighbourhood, has brewed a large quantity of the native intoxicant called _chicha_, and poured it into wooden troughs and palm leaves. on the morning of the fourth day, three hours before the dawn, the girl's father, having arrayed himself in his savage finery, summons all his neighbours with loud cries. the damsel is seated on a stone, and every guest in turn cuts off a lock of her hair, and running away hides it in the hollow trunk of a tree in the depths of the forest. when they have all done so and seated themselves again gravely in the circle, the girl offers to each of them a calabash full of very strong _chicha_. before the wassailing begins, the various fathers perform a curious operation on the arms of their sons, who are seated beside them. the operator takes a very sharp bone of an ape, rubs it with a pungent spice, and then pinching up the skin of his son's arm he pierces it with the bone through and through, as a surgeon might introduce a seton. this operation he repeats till the young man's arm is riddled with holes at regular intervals from the shoulder to the wrist. almost all who take part in the festival are covered with these wounds, which the indians call _culucute_. having thus prepared themselves to spend a happy day, they drink, play on flutes, sing and dance till evening. rain, thunder, and lightning, should they befall, have no effect in damping the general enjoyment or preventing its continuance till after the sun has set. the motive for perforating the arms of the young men is to make them skilful hunters; at each perforation the sufferer is cheered by the promise of another sort of game or fish which the surgical operation will infallibly procure for him. the same operation is performed on the arms and legs of the girls, in order that they may be brave and strong; even the dogs are operated on with the intention of making them run down the game better. for five or six months afterwards the damsel must cover her head with bark and refrain from speaking to men. the yuracares think that if they did not submit a young girl to this severe ordeal, her children would afterwards perish by accidents of various kinds, such as the sting of a serpent, the bite of a jaguar, the fall of a tree, the wound of an arrow, or what not.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of the gran chaco.] among the matacos or mataguayos, an indian tribe of the gran chaco, a girl at puberty has to remain in seclusion for some time. she lies covered up with branches or other things in a corner of the hut, seeing no one and speaking to no one, and during this time she may eat neither flesh nor fish. meantime a man beats a drum in front of the house.[ ] similarly among the tobas, another indian tribe of the same region, when a chief's daughter has just attained to womanhood, she is shut up for two or three days in the house, all the men of the tribe scour the country to bring in game and fish for a feast, and a mataco indian is engaged to drum, sing, and dance in front of the house without cessation, day and night, till the festival is over. as the merrymaking lasts for two or three weeks, the exhaustion of the musician at the end of it may be readily conceived. meat and drink are supplied to him on the spot where he pays his laborious court to the muses. the proceedings wind up with a saturnalia and a drunken debauch.[ ] among the yaguas, an indian tribe of the upper amazon, a girl at puberty is shut up for three months in a lonely hut in the forest, where her mother brings her food daily.[ ] when a girl of the peguenches tribe perceives in herself the first signs of womanhood, she is secluded by her mother in a corner of the hut screened off with blankets, and is warned not to lift up her eyes on any man. next day, very early in the morning and again after sunset, she is taken out by two women and made to run till she is tired; in the interval she is again secluded in her corner. on the following day she lays three packets of wool beside the path near the house to signify that she is now a woman.[ ] among the passes, mauhes, and other tribes of brazil the young woman in similar circumstances is hung in her hammock from the roof and has to fast there for a month or as long as she can hold out.[ ] one of the early settlers in brazil, about the middle of the sixteenth century, has described the severe ordeal which damsels at puberty had to undergo among the indians on the south-east coast of that country, near what is now rio de janeiro. when a girl had reached this critical period of life, her hair was burned or shaved off close to the head. then she was placed on a flat stone and cut with the tooth of an animal from the shoulders all down the back, till she ran with blood. next the ashes of a wild gourd were rubbed into the wounds; the girl was bound hand and foot, and hung in a hammock, being enveloped in it so closely that no one could see her. here she had to stay for three days without eating or drinking. when the three days were over, she stepped out of the hammock upon the flat stone, for her feet might not touch the ground. if she had a call of nature, a female relation took the girl on her back and carried her out, taking with her a live coal to prevent evil influences from entering the girl's body. being replaced in her hammock, she was now allowed to get some flour, boiled roots, and water, but might not taste salt or flesh. thus she continued to the end of the first monthly period, at the expiry of which she was gashed on the breast and belly as well as all down the back. during the second month she still stayed in her hammock, but her rule of abstinence was less rigid, and she was allowed to spin. the third month she was blackened with a certain pigment and began to go about as usual.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of guiana; custom of beating the girls and of causing them to be stung by ants.] amongst the macusis of british guiana, when a girl shews the first signs of puberty, she is hung in a hammock at the highest point of the hut. for the first few days she may not leave the hammock by day, but at night she must come down, light a fire, and spend the night beside it, else she would break out in sores on her neck, throat, and other parts of her body. so long as the symptoms are at their height, she must fast rigorously. when they have abated, she may come down and take up her abode in a little compartment that is made for her in the darkest corner of the hut. in the morning she may cook her food, but it must be at a separate fire and in a vessel of her own. after about ten days the magician comes and undoes the spell by muttering charms and breathing on her and on the more valuable of the things with which she has come in contact. the pots and drinking-vessels which she used are broken and the fragments buried. after her first bath, the girl must submit to be beaten by her mother with thin rods without uttering a cry. at the end of the second period she is again beaten, but not afterwards. she is now "clean," and can mix again with people.[ ] other indians of guiana, after keeping the girl in her hammock at the top of the hut for a month, expose her to certain large ants, whose bite is very painful.[ ] sometimes, in addition to being stung with ants, the sufferer has to fast day and night so long as she remains slung up on high in her hammock, so that when she comes down she is reduced to a skeleton. the intention of stinging her with ants is said to be to make her strong to bear the burden of maternity.[ ] amongst the uaupes of brazil a girl at puberty is secluded in the house for a month, and allowed only a small quantity of bread and water. then she is taken out into the midst of her relations and friends, each of whom gives her four or five blows with pieces of _sipo_ (an elastic climber), till she falls senseless or dead. if she recovers, the operation is repeated four times at intervals of six hours, and it is considered an offence to the parents not to strike hard. meantime, pots of meats and fish have been made ready; the _sipos_ are dipped into them and then given to the girl to lick, who is now considered a marriageable woman.[ ] [custom in south america of causing young men to be stung with ants as an initiatory rite.] the custom of stinging the girl at such times with ants or beating her with rods is intended, we may be sure, not as a punishment or a test of endurance, but as a purification, the object being to drive away the malignant influences with which a girl in this condition is believed to be beset and enveloped. examples of purification, by beating, by incisions in the flesh, and by stinging with ants, have already come before us.[ ] in some indian tribes of brazil and guiana young men do not rank as warriors and may not marry till they have passed through a terrible ordeal, which consists in being stung by swarms of venomous ants whose bite is like fire. thus among the mauhes on the tapajos river, a southern tributary of the amazon, boys of eight to ten years are obliged to thrust their arms into sleeves stuffed with great ferocious ants, which the indians call _tocandeira_ (_cryptocerus atratus_, f.). when the young victim shrieks with pain, an excited mob of men dances round him, shouting and encouraging him till he falls exhausted to the ground. he is then committed to the care of old women, who treat his fearfully swollen arms with fresh juice of the manioc; and on his recovery he has to shew his strength and skill in bending a bow. this cruel ordeal is commonly repeated again and again, till the lad has reached his fourteenth year and can bear the agony without betraying any sign of emotion. then he is a man and can marry. a lad's age is reckoned by the number of times he has passed through the ordeal.[ ] an eye-witness has described how a young mauhe hero bore the torture with an endurance more than spartan, dancing and singing, with his arms cased in the terrible mittens, before every cabin of the great common house, till pallid, staggering, and with chattering teeth he triumphantly laid the gloves before the old chief and received the congratulations of the men and the caresses of the women; then breaking away from his friends and admirers he threw himself into the river and remained in its cool soothing water till nightfall.[ ] similarly among the ticunas of the upper amazon, on the border of peru, the young man who would take his place among the warriors must plunge his arm into a sort of basket full of venomous ants and keep it there for several minutes without uttering a cry. he generally falls backwards and sometimes succumbs to the fever which ensues; hence as soon as the ordeal is over the women are prodigal of their attentions to him, and rub the swollen arm with a particular kind of herb.[ ] ordeals of this sort appear to be in vogue among the indians of the rio negro as well as of the amazon.[ ] among the rucuyennes, a tribe of indians in the north of brazil, on the borders of guiana, young men who are candidates for marriage must submit to be stung all over their persons not only with ants but with wasps, which are applied to their naked bodies in curious instruments of trellis-work shaped like fantastic quadrupeds or birds. the patient invariably falls down in a swoon and is carried like dead to his hammock, where he is tightly lashed with cords. as they come to themselves, they writhe in agony, so that their hammocks rock violently to and fro, causing the hut to shake as if it were about to collapse. this dreadful ordeal is called by the indians a _maraké_.[ ] [custom of causing men and women to be stung with ants to improve their character and health or to render them invulnerable.] the same ordeal, under the same name, is also practised by the wayanas, an indian tribe of french guiana, but with them, we are told, it is no longer deemed an indispensable preliminary to marriage; "it is rather a sort of national medicine administered chiefly to the youth of both sexes." applied to men, the _maraké_, as it is called, "sharpens them, prevents them from being heavy and lazy, makes them active, brisk, industrious, imparts strength, and helps them to shoot well with the bow; without it the indians would always be slack and rather sickly, would always have a little fever, and would lie perpetually in their hammocks. as for the women, the _maraké_ keeps them from going to sleep, renders them active, alert, brisk, gives them strength and a liking for work, makes them good housekeepers, good workers at the stockade, good makers of _cachiri_. every one undergoes the _maraké_ at least twice in his life, sometimes thrice, and oftener if he likes. it may be had from the age of about eight years and upward, and no one thinks it odd that a man of forty should voluntarily submit to it."[ ] similarly the indians of st. juan capistrano in california used to be branded on some part of their bodies, generally on the right arm, but sometimes on the leg also, not as a proof of manly fortitude, but because they believed that the custom "added greater strength to the nerves, and gave a better pulse for the management of the bow." afterwards "they were whipped with nettles, and covered with ants, that they might become robust, and the infliction was always performed in summer, during the months of july and august, when the nettle was in its most fiery state. they gathered small bunches, which they fastened together, and the poor deluded indian was chastised, by inflicting blows with them upon his naked limbs, until unable to walk; and then he was carried to the nest of the nearest and most furious species of ants, and laid down among them, while some of his friends, with sticks, kept annoying the insects to make them still more violent. what torments did they not undergo! what pain! what hellish inflictions! yet their faith gave them power to endure all without a murmur, and they remained as if dead. having undergone these dreadful ordeals, they were considered as invulnerable, and believed that the arrows of their enemies could no longer harm them."[ ] among the alur, a tribe inhabiting the south-western region of the upper nile, to bury a man in an ant-hill and leave him there for a while is the regular treatment for insanity.[ ] [in such cases the beating or stinging was originally a purification; at a later time it is interpreted as a test of courage and endurance.] in like manner it is probable that beating or scourging as a religious or ceremonial rite was originally a mode of purification. it was meant to wipe off and drive away a dangerous contagion, whether personified as demoniacal or not, which was supposed to be adhering physically, though invisibly, to the body of the sufferer.[ ] the pain inflicted on the person beaten was no more the object of the beating than it is of a surgical operation with us; it was a necessary accident, that was all. in later times such customs were interpreted otherwise, and the pain, from being an accident, became the prime object of the ceremony, which was now regarded either as a test of endurance imposed upon persons at critical epochs of life, or as a mortification of the flesh well pleasing to the god. but asceticism, under any shape or form, is never primitive. the savage, it is true, in certain circumstances will voluntarily subject himself to pains and privations which appear to us wholly needless; but he never acts thus unless he believes that some solid temporal advantage is to be gained by so doing. pain for the sake of pain, whether as a moral discipline in this life or as a means of winning a glorious immortality hereafter, is not an object which he sets himself deliberately to pursue. [this explanation confirmed with reference to the beating of girls at puberty among the south american indians; treatment of a girl at puberty among the banivas of the orinoco; symptoms of puberty in a girl regarded as wounds inflicted by a demon.] if this view is correct, we can understand why so many indian tribes of south america compel the youth of both sexes to submit to these painful and sometimes fatal ordeals. they imagine that in this way they rid the young folk of certain evils inherent in youth, especially at the critical age of puberty; and when they picture to themselves the evils in a personal form as dangerous spirits or demons, the ceremony of their expulsion may in the strict sense be termed an exorcism. this certainly appears to be the interpretation which the banivas of the orinoco put upon the cruel scourgings which they inflict on girls at puberty. at her first menstruation a baniva girl must pass several days and nights in her hammock, almost motionless and getting nothing to eat and drink but water and a little manioc. while she lies there, the suitors for her hand apply to her father, and he who can afford to give most for her or can prove himself the best man, is promised the damsel in marriage. the fast over, some old men enter the hut, bandage the girl's eyes, cover her head with a bonnet of which the fringes fall on her shoulders, and then lead her forth and tie her to a post set up in an open place. the head of the post is carved in the shape of a grotesque face. none but the old men may witness what follows. were a woman caught peeping and prying, it would go ill with her; she would be marked out for the vengeance of the demon, who would make her expiate her crime at the very next moon by madness or death. every participant in the ceremony comes armed with a scourge of cords or of fish skins; some of them reinforce the virtue of the instrument by tying little sharp stones to the end of the thongs. then, to the dismal and deafening notes of shell-trumpets blown by two or three supernumeraries, the men circle round and round the post, every one applying his scourge as he passes to the girl's back, till it streams with blood. at last the musicians, winding tremendous blasts on their trumpets against the demon, advance and touch the post in which he is supposed to be incorporate. then the blows cease to descend; the girl is untied, often in a fainting state, and carried away to have her wounds washed and simples applied to them. the youngest of the executioners, or rather of the exorcists, hastens to inform her betrothed husband of the happy issue of the exorcism. "the spirit," he says, "had cast thy beloved into a sleep as deep almost as that of death. but we have rescued her from his attacks, and laid her down in such and such a place. go seek her." then going from house to house through the village he cries to the inmates, "come, let us burn the demon who would have taken possession of such and such a girl, our friend." the bridegroom at once carries his wounded and suffering bride to his own house; and all the people gather round the post for the pleasure of burning it and the demon together. a great pile of firewood has meanwhile been heaped up about it, and the women run round the pyre cursing in shrill voices the wicked spirit who has wrought all this evil. the men join in with hoarser cries and animate themselves for the business in hand by deep draughts of an intoxicant which has been provided for the occasion by the parents-in-law. soon the bridegroom, having committed the bride to the care of his mother, appears on the scene brandishing a lighted torch. he addresses the demon with bitter mockery and reproaches; informs him that the fair creature on whom he, the demon, had nefarious designs, is now his, the bridegroom's, blooming spouse; and shaking his torch at the grinning head on the post, he screams out, "this is how the victims of thy persecution take vengeance on thee!" with these words he puts a light to the pyre. at once the drums strike up, the trumpets blare, and men, women, and children begin to dance. in two long rows they dance, the men on one side, the women on the other, advancing till they almost touch and then retiring again. after that the two rows join hands, and forming a huge circle trip it round and round the blaze, till the post with its grotesque face is consumed in the flames and nothing of the pyre remains but a heap of red and glowing embers. "the evil spirit has been destroyed. thus delivered from her persecutor, the young wife will be free from sickness, will not die in childbed, and will bear many children to her husband."[ ] from this account it appears that the banivas attribute the symptoms of puberty in girls to the wounds inflicted on them by an amorous devil, who, however, can be not only exorcised but burnt to ashes at the stake. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in india and cambodia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the hindoos; seclusion of girls at puberty in southern india.] when a hindoo maiden reaches maturity she is kept in a dark room for four days, and is forbidden to see the sun. she is regarded as unclean; no one may touch her. her diet is restricted to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt. on the morning of the fifth day she goes to a neighbouring tank, accompanied by five women whose husbands are alive. smeared with turmeric water, they all bathe and return home, throwing away the mat and other things that were in the room.[ ] the rarhi brahmans of bengal compel a girl at puberty to live alone, and do not allow her to see the face of any male. for three days she remains shut up in a dark room, and has to undergo certain penances. fish, flesh, and sweetmeats are forbidden her; she must live upon rice and ghee.[ ] among the tiyans of malabar a girl is thought to be polluted for four days from the beginning of her first menstruation. during this time she must keep to the north side of the house, where she sleeps on a grass mat of a particular kind, in a room festooned with garlands of young coco-nut leaves. another girl keeps her company and sleeps with her, but she may not touch any other person, tree or plant. further, she may not see the sky, and woe betide her if she catches sight of a crow or a cat! her diet must be strictly vegetarian, without salt, tamarinds, or chillies. she is armed against evil spirits by a knife, which is placed on the mat or carried on her person.[ ] among the kappiliyans of madura and tinnevelly a girl at her first monthly period remains under pollution for thirteen days, either in a corner of the house, which is screened off for her use by her maternal uncle, or in a temporary hut, which is erected by the same relative on the common land of the village. on the thirteenth day she bathes in a tank, and, on entering the house, steps over a pestle and a cake. near the entrance some food is placed and a dog is allowed to partake of it; but his enjoyment is marred by suffering, for while he eats he receives a sound thrashing, and the louder he howls the better, for the larger will be the family to which the young woman will give birth; should there be no howls, there will be no children. the temporary hut in which the girl passed the days of her seclusion is burnt down, and the pots which she used are smashed to shivers.[ ] similarly among the parivarams of madura, when a girl attains to puberty she is kept for sixteen days in a hut, which is guarded at night by her relations; and when her sequestration is over the hut is burnt down and the pots she used are broken into very small pieces, because they think that if rain-water gathered in any of them, the girl would be childless.[ ] the pulayars of travancore build a special hut in the jungle for the use of a girl at puberty; there she remains for seven days. no one else may enter the hut, not even her mother. women stand a little way off and lay down food for her. at the end of the time she is brought home, clad in a new or clean cloth, and friends are treated to betel-nut, toddy, and arack.[ ] among the singhalese a girl at her first menstruation is confined to a room, where she may neither see nor be seen by any male. after being thus secluded for two weeks she is taken out, with her face covered, and is bathed by women at the back of the house. near the bathing-place are kept branches of any milk-bearing tree, usually of the _jak_-tree. in some cases, while the time of purification or uncleanness lasts, the maiden stays in a separate hut, which is afterwards burnt down.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in cambodia.] in cambodia a girl at puberty is put to bed under a mosquito curtain, where she should stay a hundred days. usually, however, four, five, ten, or twenty days are thought enough; and even this, in a hot climate and under the close meshes of the curtain, is sufficiently trying.[ ] according to another account, a cambodian maiden at puberty is said to "enter into the shade." during her retirement, which, according to the rank and position of her family, may last any time from a few days to several years, she has to observe a number of rules, such as not to be seen by a strange man, not to eat flesh or fish, and so on. she goes nowhere, not even to the pagoda. but this state of seclusion is discontinued during eclipses; at such times she goes forth and pays her devotions to the monster who is supposed to cause eclipses by catching the heavenly bodies between his teeth.[ ] this permission to break her rule of retirement and appear abroad during an eclipse seems to shew how literally the injunction is interpreted which forbids maidens entering on womanhood to look upon the sun. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales_ [traces of the seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales. danish story of the girl who might not see the sun.] a superstition so widely diffused as this might be expected to leave traces in legends and folk-tales. and it has done so. in a danish story we read of a princess who was fated to be carried off by a warlock if ever the sun shone on her before she had passed her thirtieth year; so the king her father kept her shut up in the palace, and had all the windows on the east, south, and west sides blocked up, lest a sunbeam should fall on his darling child, and he should thus lose her for ever. only at evening, when the sun was down, might she walk for a little in the beautiful garden of the castle. in time a prince came a-wooing, followed by a train of gorgeous knights and squires on horses all ablaze with gold and silver. the king said the prince might have his daughter to wife on condition that he would not carry her away to his home till she was thirty years old but would live with her in the castle, where the windows looked out only to the north. the prince agreed, so married they were. the bride was only fifteen, and fifteen more long weary years must pass before she might step out of the gloomy donjon, breathe the fresh air, and see the sun. but she and her gallant young bridegroom loved each other and they were happy. often they sat hand in hand at the window looking out to the north and talked of what they would do when they were free. still it was a little dull to look out always at the same window and to see nothing but the castle woods, and the distant hills, and the clouds drifting silently over them. well, one day it happened that all the people in the castle had gone away to a neighbouring castle to witness a tournament and other gaieties, and the two young folks were left as usual all alone at the window looking out to the north. they sat silent for a time gazing away to the hills. it was a grey sad day, the sky was overcast, and the weather seemed to draw to rain. at last the prince said, "there will be no sunshine to-day. what if we were to drive over and join the rest at the tournament?" his young wife gladly consented, for she longed to see more of the world than those eternal green woods and those eternal blue hills, which were all she ever saw from the window. so the horses were put into the coach, and it rattled up to the door, and in they got and away they drove. at first all went well. the clouds hung low over the woods, the wind sighed in the trees, a drearier day you could hardly imagine. so they joined the rest at the other castle and took their seats to watch the jousting in the lists. so intent were they in watching the gay spectacle of the prancing steeds, the fluttering pennons, and the glittering armour of the knights, that they failed to mark the change, the fatal change, in the weather. for the wind was rising and had begun to disperse the clouds, and suddenly the sun broke through, and the glory of it fell like an aureole on the young wife, and at once she vanished away. no sooner did her husband miss her from his side than he, too, mysteriously disappeared. the tournament broke up in confusion, the bereft father hastened home, and shut himself up in the dark castle from which the light of life had departed. the green woods and the blue hills could still be seen from the window that looked to the north, but the young faces that had gazed out of it so wistfully were gone, as it seemed, for ever.[ ] [tyrolese story of the girl who might not see the sun.] a tyrolese story tells how it was the doom of a lovely maiden with golden hair to be transported into the belly of a whale if ever a sunbeam fell on her. hearing of the fame of her beauty the king of the country sent for her to be his bride, and her brother drove the fair damsel to the palace in a carefully closed coach, himself sitting on the box and handling the reins. on the way they overtook two hideous witches, who pretended they were weary and begged for a lift in the coach. at first the brother refused to take them in, but his tender-hearted sister entreated him to have compassion on the two poor footsore women; for you may easily imagine that she was not acquainted with their true character. so down he got rather surlily from the box, opened the coach door, and in the two witches stepped, laughing in their sleeves. but no sooner had the brother mounted the box and whipped up the horses, than one of the two wicked witches bored a hole in the closed coach. a sunbeam at once shot through the hole and fell on the fair damsel. so she vanished from the coach and was spirited away into the belly of a whale in the neighbouring sea. you can imagine the consternation of the king, when the coach door opened and instead of his blooming bride out bounced two hideous hags![ ] [modern greek stories of the maid who might not see the sun.] in a modern greek folk-tale the fates predict that in her fifteenth year a princess must be careful not to let the sun shine on her, for if this were to happen she would be turned into a lizard.[ ] in another modern greek tale the sun bestows a daughter upon a childless woman on condition of taking the child back to himself when she is twelve years old. so, when the child was twelve, the mother closed the doors and windows, and stopped up all the chinks and crannies, to prevent the sun from coming to fetch away her daughter. but she forgot to stop up the key-hole, and a sunbeam streamed through it and carried off the girl.[ ] in a sicilian story a seer foretells that a king will have a daughter who, in her fourteenth year, will conceive a child by the sun. so, when the child was born, the king shut her up in a lonely tower which had no window, lest a sunbeam should fall on her. when she was nearly fourteen years old, it happened that her parents sent her a piece of roasted kid, in which she found a sharp bone. with this bone she scraped a hole in the wall, and a sunbeam shot through the hole and got her with child.[ ] [the story of danae and its parallel in a kirghiz legend.] the old greek story of danae, who was confined by her father in a subterranean chamber or a brazen tower, but impregnated by zeus, who reached her in the shape of a shower of gold,[ ] perhaps belongs to the same class of tales. it has its counterpart in the legend which the kirghiz of siberia tell of their ancestry. a certain khan had a fair daughter, whom he kept in a dark iron house, that no man might see her. an old woman tended her; and when the girl was grown to maidenhood she asked the old woman, "where do you go so often?" "my child," said the old dame, "there is a bright world. in that bright world your father and mother live, and all sorts of people live there. that is where i go." the maiden said, "good mother, i will tell nobody, but shew me that bright world." so the old woman took the girl out of the iron house. but when she saw the bright world, the girl tottered and fainted; and the eye of god fell upon her, and she conceived. her angry father put her in a golden chest and sent her floating away (fairy gold can float in fairyland) over the wide sea.[ ] the shower of gold in the greek story, and the eye of god in the kirghiz legend, probably stand for sunlight and the sun. [impregnation of women by the sun in legends.] the idea that women may be impregnated by the sun is not uncommon in legends. thus, for example, among the indians of guacheta in colombia, it is said, a report once ran that the sun would impregnate one of their maidens, who should bear a child and yet remain a virgin. the chief had two daughters, and was very desirous that one of them should conceive in this miraculous manner. so every day he made them climb a hill to the east of his house in order to be touched by the first beams of the rising sun. his wishes were fulfilled, for one of the damsels conceived and after nine months gave birth to an emerald. so she wrapped it in cotton and placed it in her bosom, and in a few days it turned into a child, who received the name of garanchacha and was universally recognized as a son of the sun.[ ] again, the samoans tell of a woman named mangamangai, who became pregnant by looking at the rising sun. her son grew up and was named "child of the sun." at his marriage he applied to his mother for a dowry, but she bade him apply to his father, the sun, and told him how to go to him. so one morning he took a long vine and made a noose in it; then climbing up a tree he threw the noose over the sun and caught him fast. thus arrested in his progress, the luminary asked him what he wanted, and being told by the young man that he wanted a present for his bride, the sun obligingly packed up a store of blessings in a basket, with which the youth descended to the earth.[ ] [traces in marriage customs of the belief that women can be impregnated by the sun.] even in the marriage customs of various races we may perhaps detect traces of this belief that women can be impregnated by the sun. thus amongst the chaco indians of south america a newly married couple used to sleep the first night on a mare's or bullock's skin with their heads towards the west, "for the marriage is not considered ratified till the rising sun shines on their feet the succeeding morning."[ ] at old hindoo marriages the first ceremony was the "impregnation-rite" (_garbh[=a]dh[=a]na_); during the previous day the bride was made to look towards the sun or to be in some way exposed to its rays.[ ] amongst the turks of siberia it was formerly the custom on the morning after the marriage to lead the young couple out of the hut to greet the rising sun. the same custom is said to be still practised in iran and central asia under a belief that the beams of the rising sun are the surest means of impregnating the new bride.[ ] [belief in the impregnation of women by the moon.] and as some people think that women may be gotten with child by the sun, so others imagine that they can conceive by the moon. according to the greenlanders the moon is a young man, and he "now and then comes down to give their wives a visit and caress them; for which reason no woman dare sleep lying upon her back, without she first spits upon her fingers and rubs her belly with it. for the same reason the young maids are afraid to stare long at the moon, imagining they may get a child by the bargain."[ ] similarly breton peasants are reported to believe that women or girls who expose their persons to the moonlight may be impregnated by it and give birth to monsters.[ ] § . _reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty_ [the reason for the seclusion of women at puberty is the dread of menstruous blood.] the motive for the restraints so commonly imposed on girls at puberty is the deeply engrained dread which primitive man universally entertains of menstruous blood. he fears it at all times but especially on its first appearance; hence the restrictions under which women lie at their first menstruation are usually more stringent than those which they have to observe at any subsequent recurrence of the mysterious flow. some evidence of the fear and of the customs based on it has been cited in an earlier part of this work;[ ] but as the terror, for it is nothing less, which the phenomenon periodically strikes into the mind of the savage has deeply influenced his life and institutions, it may be well to illustrate the subject with some further examples. [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the aborigines of australia.] thus in the encounter bay tribe of south australia there is, or used to be, a "superstition which obliges a woman to separate herself from the camp at the time of her monthly illness, when, if a young man or boy should approach, she calls out, and he immediately makes a circuit to avoid her. if she is neglectful upon this point, she exposes herself to scolding, and sometimes to severe beating by her husband or nearest relation, because the boys are told from their infancy, that if they see the blood they will early become grey-headed, and their strength will fail prematurely."[ ] and of the south australian aborigines in general we read that there is a "custom requiring all boys and uninitiated young men to sleep at some distance from the huts of the adults, and to remove altogether away in the morning as soon as daylight dawns, and the natives begin to move about. this is to prevent their seeing the women, some of whom may be menstruating; and if looked upon by the young males, it is supposed that dire results will follow."[ ] and amongst these tribes women in their courses "are not allowed to eat fish of any kind, or to go near the water at all; it being one of their superstitions, that if a female, in that state, goes near the water, no success can be expected by the men in fishing."[ ] similarly, among the natives of the murray river, menstruous women "were not allowed to go near water for fear of frightening the fish. they were also not allowed to eat them, for the same reason. a woman during such periods would never cross the river in a canoe, or even fetch water for the camp. it was sufficient for her to say _thama_, to ensure her husband getting the water himself."[ ] the dieri of central australia believe that if women at these times were to eat fish or bathe in a river, the fish would all die and the water would dry up. in this tribe a mark made with red ochre round a woman's mouth indicates that she has her courses; no one would offer fish to such a woman.[ ] the arunta of central australia forbid menstruous women to gather the _irriakura_ bulbs, which form a staple article of diet for both men and women. they believe that were a woman to break this rule, the supply of bulbs would fail.[ ] among the aborigines of victoria the wife at her monthly periods had to sleep on the opposite side of the fire from her husband; she might partake of nobody's food, and nobody would partake of hers, for people thought that if they ate or drank anything that had been touched by a woman in her courses, it would make them weak or ill. unmarried girls and widows at such times had to paint their heads and the upper parts of their bodies red,[ ] no doubt as a danger signal. [severe penalties inflicted for breaches of the custom of seclusion.] in some australian tribes the seclusion of menstruous women was even more rigid, and was enforced by severer penalties than a scolding or a beating. thus with regard to certain tribes of new south wales and southern queensland we are told that "during the monthly illness, the woman is not allowed to touch anything that men use, or even to walk on a path that any man frequents, on pain of death."[ ] again, "there is a regulation relating to camps in the wakelbura tribe which forbids the women coming into the encampment by the same path as the men. any violation of this rule would in a large camp be punished with death. the reason for this is the dread with which they regard the menstrual period of women. during such a time, a woman is kept entirely away from the camp, half a mile at least. a woman in such a condition has boughs of some tree of her totem tied round her loins, and is constantly watched and guarded, for it is thought that should any male be so unfortunate as to see a woman in such a condition, he would die. if such a woman were to let herself be seen by a man, she would probably be put to death. when the woman has recovered, she is painted red and white, her head covered with feathers, and returns to the camp."[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women in the torres straits islands, new guinea, galela, and sumatra.] in muralug, one of the torres straits islands, a menstruous woman may not eat anything that lives in the sea, else the natives believe that the fisheries would fail. again, in mabuiag, another of these islands, women who have their courses on them may not eat turtle flesh nor turtle eggs, probably for a similar reason. and during the season when the turtles are pairing the restrictions laid on such a woman are much severer. she may not even enter a house in which there is turtle flesh, nor approach a fire on which the flesh is cooking; she may not go near the sea and she should not walk on the beach below high-water mark. nay, the infection extends to her husband, who may not himself harpoon or otherwise take an active part in catching turtle; however, he is permitted to form one of the crew on a turtling expedition, provided he takes the precaution of rubbing his armpits with certain leaves, to which no doubt a disinfectant virtue is ascribed.[ ] among the kai of german new guinea women at their monthly sickness must live in little huts built for them in the forest; they may not enter the cultivated fields, for if they did go to them, and the pigs were to taste of the blood, it would inspire the animals with an irresistible desire to go likewise into the fields, where they would commit great depredations on the growing crops. hence the issue from women at these times is carefully buried to prevent the pigs from getting at it. and conversely, if the pigs often break into the fields, the blame is laid on the women who by the neglect of these elementary precautions have put temptation in the way of the swine.[ ] in galela, to the west of new guinea, women at their monthly periods may not enter a tobacco-field, or the plants would be attacked by disease.[ ] the minangkabauers of sumatra are persuaded that if a woman in her unclean state were to go near a rice-field, the crop would be spoiled.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of south africa.] the bushmen of south africa think that, by a glance of a girl's eye at the time when she ought to be kept in strict retirement, men become fixed in whatever position they happen to occupy, with whatever they were holding in their hands, and are changed into trees that talk.[ ] cattle-rearing tribes of south africa hold that their cattle would die if the milk were drunk by a menstruous woman;[ ] and they fear the same disaster if a drop of her blood were to fall on the ground and the oxen were to pass over it. to prevent such a calamity women in general, not menstruous women only, are forbidden to enter the cattle enclosure; and more than that, they may not use the ordinary paths in entering the village or in passing from one hut to another. they are obliged to make circuitous tracks at the back of the huts in order to avoid the ground in the middle of the village where the cattle stand or lie down. these women's tracks may be seen at every caffre village.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of central and east africa.] similarly among the bahima, a cattle-breeding tribe of ankole, in central africa, no menstruous woman may drink milk, lest by so doing she should injure the cows; and she may not lie on her husband's bed, no doubt lest she should injure him. indeed she is forbidden to lie on a bed at all and must sleep on the ground. her diet is restricted to vegetables and beer.[ ] among the baganda, in like manner, no menstruous woman might drink milk or come into contact with any milk-vessel;[ ] and she might not touch anything that belonged to her husband, nor sit on his mat, nor cook his food. if she touched anything of his at such a time it was deemed equivalent to wishing him dead or to actually working magic for his destruction.[ ] were she to handle any article of his, he would surely fall ill; were she to handle his weapons, he would certainly be killed in the next battle. even a woman who did not menstruate was believed by the baganda to be a source of danger to her husband, indeed capable of killing him. hence, before he went to war, he used to wound her slightly with his spear so as to draw blood; this was thought to ensure his safe return.[ ] apparently the notion was that if the wife did not lose blood in one way or another, her husband would be bled in war to make up for her deficiency; so by way of guarding against this undesirable event, he took care to relieve her of a little superfluous blood before he repaired to the field of honour. further, the baganda would not suffer a menstruous woman to visit a well; if she did so, they feared that the water would dry up, and that she herself would fall sick and die, unless she confessed her fault and the medicine-man made atonement for her.[ ] among the akikuyu of british east africa, if a new hut is built in a village and the wife chances to menstruate in it on the day she lights the first fire there, the hut must be broken down and demolished the very next day. the woman may on no account sleep a second night in it; there is a curse (_thahu_) both on her and on it.[ ] in the suk tribe of british east africa warriors may not eat anything that has been touched by menstruous women. if they did so, it is believed that they would lose their virility; "in the rain they will shiver and in the heat they will faint." suk men and women take their meals apart, because the men fear that one or more of the women may be menstruating.[ ] the anyanja of british central africa, at the southern end of lake nyassa, think that a man who should sleep with a woman in her courses would fall sick and die, unless some remedy were applied in time. and with them it is a rule that at such times a woman should not put any salt into the food she is cooking, otherwise the people who partook of the food salted by her would suffer from a certain disease called _tsempo_; hence to obviate the danger she calls a child to put the salt into the dish.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of west africa.] among the hos, a tribe of ewe negroes of togoland in west africa, so long as a wife has her monthly sickness she may not cook for her husband, nor lie on his bed, nor sit on his stool; an infraction of these rules would assuredly, it is believed, cause her husband to die. if her husband is a priest, or a magician, or a chief, she may not pass the days of her uncleanness in the house, but must go elsewhere till she is clean.[ ] among the ewe negroes of this region each village has its huts where women who have their courses on them must spend their time secluded from intercourse with other people. sometimes these huts stand by themselves in public places; sometimes they are mere shelters built either at the back or front of the ordinary dwelling-houses. a woman is punishable if she does not pass the time of her monthly sickness in one of these huts or shelters provided for her use. thus, if she shews herself in her own house or even in the yard of the house, she may be fined a sheep, which is killed, its flesh divided among the people, and its blood poured on the image of the chief god as a sin-offering to expiate her offence. she is also forbidden to go to the place where the villagers draw water, and if she breaks the rule, she must give a goat to be killed; its flesh is distributed, and its blood, diluted with water and mixed with herbs, is sprinkled on the watering-place and on the paths leading to it. were any woman to disregard these salutary precautions, the chief fetish-man in the village would fall sick and die, which would be an irreparable loss to society.[ ] [powerful influence ascribed to menstruous blood in arab legend.] the miraculous virtue ascribed to menstruous blood is well illustrated in a story told by the arab chronicler tabari. he relates how sapor, king of persia, besieged the strong city of atrae, in the desert of mesopotamia, for several years without being able to take it. but the king of the city, whose name was daizan, had a daughter, and when it was with her after the manner of women she went forth from the city and dwelt for a time in the suburb, for such was the custom of the place. now it fell out that, while she tarried there, sapor saw her and loved her, and she loved him; for he was a handsome man and she a lovely maid. and she said to him, "what will you give me if i shew you how you may destroy the walls of this city and slay my father?" and he said to her, "i will give you what you will, and i will exalt you above my other wives, and will set you nearer to me than them all." then she said to him, "take a greenish dove with a ring about its neck, and write something on its foot with the menstruous blood of a blue-eyed maid; then let the bird loose, and it will perch on the walls of the city, and they will fall down." for that, says the arab historian, was the talisman of the city, which could not be destroyed in any other way. and sapor did as she bade him, and the city fell down in a heap, and he stormed it and slew daizan on the spot.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the jews and in syria.] according to the talmud, if a woman at the beginning of her period passes between two men, she thereby kills one of them; if she passes between them towards the end of her period, she only causes them to quarrel violently.[ ] maimonides tells us that down to his time it was a common custom in the east to keep women at their periods in a separate house and to burn everything on which they had trodden; a man who spoke with such a woman or who was merely exposed to the same wind that blew over her, became thereby unclean.[ ] peasants of the lebanon think that menstruous women are the cause of many misfortunes; their shadow causes flowers to wither and trees to perish, it even arrests the movements of serpents; if one of them mounts a horse, the animal might die or at least be disabled for a long time.[ ] in syria to this day a woman who has her courses on her may neither salt nor pickle, for the people think that whatever she pickled or salted would not keep.[ ] the toaripi of new guinea, doubtless for a similar reason, will not allow women at such times to cook.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women in india.] the bhuiyars, a dravidian tribe of south mirzapur, are said to feel an intense dread of menstrual pollution. every house has two doors, one of which is used only by women in this condition. during her impurity the wife is fed by her husband apart from the rest of the family, and whenever she has to quit the house she is obliged to creep out on her hands and knees in order not to defile the thatch by her touch.[ ] the kharwars, another aboriginal tribe of the same district, keep their women at such seasons in the outer verandah of the house for eight days, and will not let them enter the kitchen or the cowhouse; during this time the unclean woman may not cook nor even touch the cooking vessels. when the eight days are over, she bathes, washes her clothes, and returns to family life.[ ] hindoo women seclude themselves at their monthly periods and observe a number of rules, such as not to drink milk, not to milk cows, not to touch fire, not to lie on a high bed, not to walk on common paths, not to cross the track of animals, not to walk by the side of flowering plants, and not to observe the heavenly bodies.[ ] the motive for these restrictions is not mentioned, but probably it is a dread of the baleful influence which is supposed to emanate from women at these times. the parsees, who reverence fire, will not suffer menstruous women to see it or even to look on a lighted taper;[ ] during their infirmity the women retire from their houses to little lodges in the country, whither victuals are brought to them daily; at the end of their seclusion they bathe and send a kid, a fowl, or a pigeon to the priest as an offering.[ ] in annam a woman at her monthly periods is deemed a centre of impurity, and contact with her is avoided. she is subject to all sorts of restrictions which she must observe herself and which others must observe towards her. she may not touch any food which is to be preserved by salting, whether it be fish, flesh, or vegetables; for were she to touch it the food would putrefy. she may not enter any sacred place, she may not be present at any religious ceremony. the linen which she wears at such times must be washed by herself at sunrise, never at night. on reaching puberty girls may not touch flowers or the fruits of certain trees, for touched by them the flowers would fade and the fruits fall to the ground. "it is on account of their reputation for impurity that the women generally live isolated. in every house they have an apartment reserved for them, and they never eat at the same table as the men. for the same reason they are excluded from all religious ceremonies. they may only be present at family ceremonies, but without ever officiating in them."[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of south and central america.] the guayquiries of the orinoco think that when a woman has her courses, everything upon which she steps will die, and that if a man treads on the place where she has passed, his legs will immediately swell up.[ ] among the guaraunos of the same great river, women at their periods are regarded as unclean and kept apart in special huts, where all that they need is brought to them.[ ] in like manner among the piapocos, an indian tribe on the guayabero, a tributary of the orinoco, a menstruous woman is secluded from her family every month for four or five days. she passes the time in a special hut, whither her husband brings her food; and at the end of the time she takes a bath and resumes her usual occupations.[ ] so among the indians of the mosquito territory in central america, when a woman is in her courses, she must quit the village for seven or eight days. a small hut is built for her in the wood, and at night some of the village girls go and sleep with her to keep her company. or if the nights are dark and jaguars are known to be prowling in the neighbourhood, her husband will take his gun or bow and sleep in a hammock near her. she may neither handle nor cook food; all is prepared and carried to her. when the sickness is over, she bathes in the river, puts on clean clothes, and returns to her household duties.[ ] among the bri-bri indians of costa rica a girl at her first menstruation retires to a hut built for the purpose in the forest, and there she must stay till she has been purified by a medicine-man, who breathes on her and places various objects, such as feathers, the beaks of birds, the teeth of beasts, and so forth, upon her body. a married woman at her periods remains in the house with her husband, but she is reckoned unclean (_bukuru_) and must avoid all intimate relations with him. she uses for plates only banana leaves, which, when she has done with them, she throws away in a sequestered spot; for should a cow find and eat them, the animal would waste away and perish. also she drinks only out of a special vessel, because any person who should afterwards drink out of the same vessel would infallibly pine away and die.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of north america.] among most tribes of north american indians the custom was that women in their courses retired from the camp or the village and lived during the time of their uncleanness in special huts or shelters which were appropriated to their use. there they dwelt apart, eating and sleeping by themselves, warming themselves at their own fires, and strictly abstaining from all communications with men, who shunned them just as if they were stricken with the plague. no article of furniture used in these menstrual huts might be used in any other, not even the flint and steel with which in the old days the fires were kindled. no one would borrow a light from a woman in her seclusion. if a white man in his ignorance asked to light his pipe at her fire, she would refuse to grant the request, telling him that it would make his nose bleed and his head ache, and that he would fall sick in consequence. if an indian's wooden pipe cracked, his friends would think that he had either lit it at one of these polluted fires or had held some converse with a woman during her retirement, which was esteemed a most disgraceful and wicked thing to do. decent men would not approach within a certain distance of a woman at such times, and if they had to convey anything to her they would stand some forty or fifty paces off and throw it to her. everything which was touched by her hands during this period was deemed ceremonially unclean. indeed her touch was thought to convey such pollution that if she chanced to lay a finger on a chief's lodge or his gun or anything else belonging to him, it would be instantly destroyed. if she crossed the path of a hunter or a warrior, his luck for that day at least would be gone. were she not thus secluded, it was supposed that the men would be attacked by diseases of various kinds, which would prove mortal. in some tribes a woman who infringed the rules of separation might have to answer with her life for any misfortunes that might happen to individuals or to the tribe in consequence, as it was supposed, of her criminal negligence. when she quitted her tent or hut to go into retirement, the fire in it was extinguished and the ashes thrown away outside of the village, and a new fire was kindled, as if the old one had been defiled by her presence. at the end of their seclusion the women bathed in running streams and returned to their usual occupations.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the creek, choctaw, omaha, and cheyenne indians.] thus, to take examples, the creek and kindred indians of the united states compelled women at menstruation to live in separate huts at some distance from the village. there the women had to stay, at the risk of being surprised and cut off by enemies. it was thought "a most horrid and dangerous pollution" to go near the women at such times; and the danger extended to enemies who, if they slew the women, had to cleanse themselves from the pollution by means of certain sacred herbs and roots.[ ] similarly, the choctaw women had to quit their huts during their monthly periods, and might not return till after they had been purified. while their uncleanness lasted they had to prepare their own food. the men believed that if they were to approach a menstruous woman, they would fall ill, and that some mishap would overtake them when they went to the wars.[ ] when an omaha woman has her courses on her, she retires from the family to a little shelter of bark or grass, supported by sticks, where she kindles a fire and cooks her victuals alone. her seclusion lasts four days. during this time she may not approach or touch a horse, for the indians believe that such contamination would impoverish or weaken the animal.[ ] among the potawatomis the women at their monthly periods "are not allowed to associate with the rest of the nation; they are completely laid aside, and are not permitted to touch any article of furniture or food which the men have occasion to use. if the indians be stationary at the time, the women are placed outside of the camp; if on a march, they are not allowed to follow the trail, but must take a different path and keep at a distance from the main body."[ ] among the cheyennes menstruous women slept in special lodges; the men believed that if they slept with their wives at such times, they would probably be wounded in their next battle. a man who owned a shield had very particularly to be on his guard against women in their courses. he might not go into a lodge where one of them happened to be, nor even into a lodge where one of them had been, until a ceremony of purification had been performed. sweet grass and juniper were burnt in the tent, and the pegs were pulled up and the covering thrown back, as if the tent were about to be struck. after this pretence of decamping from the polluted spot the owner of the shield might enter the tent.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of british columbia.] the stseelis indians of british columbia imagined that if a menstruous woman were to step over a bundle of arrows, the arrows would thereby be rendered useless and might even cause the death of their owner; and similarly that if she passed in front of a hunter who carried a gun, the weapon would never shoot straight again. neither her husband nor her father would dream of going out to hunt while she was in this state; and even if he had wished to do so, the other hunters would not go with him. hence to keep them out of harm's way, the women, both married and unmarried, were secluded at these times for four days in shelters.[ ] among the thompson indians of british columbia every woman had to isolate herself from the rest of the people during every recurring period of menstruation, and had to live some little way off in a small brush or bark lodge made for the purpose. at these times she was considered unclean, must use cooking and eating utensils of her own, and was supplied with food by some other woman. if she smoked out of a pipe other than her own, that pipe would ever afterwards be hot to smoke. if she crossed in front of a gun, that gun would thenceforth be useless for the war or the chase, unless indeed the owner promptly washed the weapon in "medecine" or struck the woman with it once on each principal part of her body. if a man ate or had any intercourse with a menstruous woman, nay if he merely wore clothes or mocassins made or patched by her, he would have bad luck in hunting and the bears would attack him fiercely. before being admitted again among the people, she had to change all her clothes and wash several times in clear water. the clothes worn during her isolation were hung on a tree, to be used next time, or to be washed. for one day after coming back among the people she did not cook food. were a man to eat food cooked by a woman at such times, he would have incapacitated himself for hunting and exposed himself to sickness or death.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the chippeway indians.] among the chippeways and other indians of the hudson bay territory, menstruous women are excluded from the camp, and take up their abode in huts of branches. they wear long hoods, which effectually conceal the head and breast. they may not touch the household furniture nor any objects used by men; for their touch "is supposed to defile them, so that their subsequent use would be followed by certain mischief or misfortune," such as disease or death. they must drink out of a swan's bone. they may not walk on the common paths nor cross the tracks of animals. they "are never permitted to walk on the ice of rivers or lakes, or near the part where the men are hunting beaver, or where a fishing-net is set, for fear of averting their success. they are also prohibited at those times from partaking of the head of any animal, and even from walking in or crossing the track where the head of a deer, moose, beaver, and many other animals have lately been carried, either on a sledge or on the back. to be guilty of a violation of this custom is considered as of the greatest importance; because they firmly believe that it would be a means of preventing the hunter from having an equal success in his future excursions."[ ] so the lapps forbid women at menstruation to walk on that part of the shore where the fishers are in the habit of setting out their fish;[ ] and the esquimaux of bering strait believe that if hunters were to come near women in their courses they would catch no game.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tinneh or déné indians; customs and beliefs of the carrier indians in regard to menstruous women.] but the beliefs and superstitions of this sort that prevail among the western tribes of the great déné or tinneh stock, to which the chippeways belong, have been so well described by an experienced missionary, that i will give his description in his own words. prominent among the ceremonial rites of these indians, he says, "are the observances peculiar to the fair sex, and many of them are remarkably analogous to those practised by the hebrew women, so much so that, were it not savouring of profanity, the ordinances of the déné ritual code might be termed a new edition 'revised and considerably augmented' of the mosaic ceremonial law. among the carriers,[ ] as soon as a girl has experienced the first flow of the menses which in the female constitution are a natural discharge, her father believed himself under the obligation of atoning for her supposedly sinful condition by a small impromptu distribution of clothes among the natives. this periodical state of women was considered as one of legal impurity fateful both to the man who happened to have any intercourse, however indirect, with her, and to the woman herself who failed in scrupulously observing all the rites prescribed by ancient usage for persons in her condition. [seclusion of carrier girls at puberty.] "upon entering into that stage of her life, the maiden was immediately sequestered from company, even that of her parents, and compelled to dwell in a small branch hut by herself away from beaten paths and the gaze of passers-by. as she was supposed to exercise malefic influence on any man who might inadvertently glance at her, she had to wear a sort of head-dress combining in itself the purposes of a veil, a bonnet, and a mantlet. it was made of tanned skin, its forepart was shaped like a long fringe completely hiding from view the face and breasts; then it formed on the head a close-fitting cap or bonnet, and finally fell in a broad band almost to the heels. this head-dress was made and publicly placed on her head by a paternal aunt, who received at once some present from the girl's father. when, three or four years later, the period of sequestration ceased, only this same aunt had the right to take off her niece's ceremonial head-dress. furthermore, the girl's fingers, wrists, and legs at the ankles and immediately below the knees, were encircled with ornamental rings and bracelets of sinew intended as a protection against the malign influences she was supposed to be possessed with.[ ] to a belt girding her waist were suspended two bone implements called respectively _tsoenkuz_ (bone tube) and _tsiltsoet_ (head scratcher). the former was a hollowed swan bone to drink with, any other mode of drinking being unlawful to her. the latter was fork-like and was called into requisition whenever she wanted to scratch her head--immediate contact of the fingers with the head being reputed injurious to her health. while thus secluded, she was called _asta_, that is 'interred alive' in carrier, and she had to submit to a rigorous fast and abstinence. her only allowed food consisted of dried fish boiled in a small bark vessel which nobody else must touch, and she had to abstain especially from meat of any kind, as well as fresh fish. nor was this all she had to endure; even her contact, however remote, with these two articles of diet was so dreaded that she could not cross the public paths or trails, or the tracks of animals. whenever absolute necessity constrained her to go beyond such spots, she had to be packed or carried over them lest she should contaminate the game or meat which had passed that way, or had been brought over these paths; and also for the sake of self-preservation against tabooed, and consequently to her, deleterious food. in the same way she was never allowed to wade in streams or lakes, for fear of causing death to the fish. "it was also a prescription of the ancient ritual code for females during this primary condition to eat as little as possible, and to remain lying down, especially in course of each monthly flow, not only as a natural consequence of the prolonged fast and resulting weakness; but chiefly as an exhibition of a becoming penitential spirit which was believed to be rewarded by long life and continual good health in after years. [seclusion of carrier women at their monthly periods; reasons for the seclusion of menstruous women among the indians.] "these mortifications or seclusion did not last less than three or four years. useless to say that during all that time marriage could not be thought of, since the girl could not so much as be seen by men. when married, the same sequestration was practised relatively to husband and fellow-villagers--without the particular head-dress and rings spoken of--on the occasion of every recurring menstruation. sometimes it was protracted as long as ten days at a time, especially during the first years of cohabitation. even when she returned to her mate, she was not permitted to sleep with him on the first nor frequently on the second night, but would choose a distant corner of the lodge to spread her blanket, as if afraid to defile him with her dread uncleanness."[ ] elsewhere the same writer tells us that most of the devices to which these indians used to resort for the sake of ensuring success in the chase "were based on their regard for continence and their excessive repugnance for, and dread of, menstruating women."[ ] but the strict observances imposed on tinneh or déné women at such times were designed at the same time to protect the women themselves from the evil consequences of their dangerous condition. thus it was thought that women in their courses could not partake of the head, heart, or hind part of an animal that had been caught in a snare without exposing themselves to a premature death through a kind of rabies. they might not cut or carve salmon, because to do so would seriously endanger their health, and especially would enfeeble their arms for life. and they had to abstain from cutting up the grebes which are caught by the carriers in great numbers every spring, because otherwise the blood with which these fowls abound would occasion haemorrhage or an unnaturally prolonged flux in the transgressor.[ ] similarly indian women of the thompson tribe abstained from venison and the flesh of other large game during menstruation, lest the animals should be displeased and the menstrual flow increased.[ ] for a similar reason, probably, shuswap girls during their seclusion at puberty are forbidden to eat anything that bleeds.[ ] the same principle may perhaps partly explain the rule, of which we have had some examples, that women at such times should refrain from fish and flesh, and restrict themselves to a vegetable diet. [similar rules of seclusion enjoined on menstruous women in ancient hindoo, persian, and hebrew codes.] the philosophic student of human nature will observe, or learn, without surprise that ideas thus deeply ingrained in the savage mind reappear at a more advanced stage of society in those elaborate codes which have been drawn up for the guidance of certain peoples by lawgivers who claim to have derived the rules they inculcate from the direct inspiration of the deity. however we may explain it, the resemblance which exists between the earliest official utterances of the deity and the ideas of savages is unquestionably close and remarkable; whether it be, as some suppose, that god communed face to face with man in those early days, or, as others maintain, that man mistook his wild and wandering thoughts for a revelation from heaven. be that as it may, certain it is that the natural uncleanness of woman at her monthly periods is a conception which has occurred, or been revealed, with singular unanimity to several ancient legislators. the hindoo lawgiver manu, who professed to have received his institutes from the creator brahman, informs us that the wisdom, the energy, the strength, the sight, and the vitality of a man who approaches a woman in her courses will utterly perish; whereas, if he avoids her, his wisdom, energy, strength, sight, and vitality will all increase.[ ] the persian lawgiver zoroaster, who, if we can take his word for it, derived his code from the mouth of the supreme being ahura mazda, devoted special attention to the subject. according to him, the menstrous flow, at least in its abnormal manifestations, is a work of ahriman, or the devil. therefore, so long as it lasts, a woman "is unclean and possessed of the demon; she must be kept confined, apart from the faithful whom her touch would defile, and from the fire which her very look would injure; she is not allowed to eat as much as she wishes, as the strength she might acquire would accrue to the fiends. her food is not given her from hand to hand, but is passed to her from a distance, in a long leaden spoon."[ ] the hebrew lawgiver moses, whose divine legation is as little open to question as that of manu and zoroaster, treats the subject at still greater length; but i must leave to the reader the task of comparing the inspired ordinances on this head with the merely human regulations of the carrier indians which they so closely resemble. [superstitions as to menstruous women in ancient and modern europe.] amongst the civilized nations of europe the superstitions which cluster round this mysterious aspect of woman's nature are not less extravagant than those which prevail among savages. in the oldest existing cyclopaedia--the _natural history_ of pliny--the list of dangers apprehended from menstruation is longer than any furnished by mere barbarians. according to pliny, the touch of a menstruous woman turned wine to vinegar, blighted crops, killed seedlings, blasted gardens, brought down the fruit from trees, dimmed mirrors, blunted razors, rusted iron and brass (especially at the waning of the moon), killed bees, or at least drove them from their hives, caused mares to miscarry, and so forth.[ ] similarly, in various parts of europe, it is still believed that if a woman in her courses enters a brewery the beer will turn sour; if she touches beer, wine, vinegar, or milk, it will go bad; if she makes jam, it will not keep; if she mounts a mare, it will miscarry; if she touches buds, they will wither; if she climbs a cherry tree, it will die.[ ] in brunswick people think that if a menstruous woman assists at the killing of a pig, the pork will putrefy.[ ] in the greek island of calymnos a woman at such times may not go to the well to draw water, nor cross a running stream, nor enter the sea. her presence in a boat is said to raise storms.[ ] [the intention of secluding menstruous women is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are thought to emanate from them in that condition; suspension between heaven and earth.] thus the object of secluding women at menstruation is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are supposed to emanate from them at such times. that the danger is believed to be especially great at the first menstruation appears from the unusual precautions taken to isolate girls at this crisis. two of these precautions have been illustrated above, namely, the rules that the girl may not touch the ground nor see the sun. the general effect of these rules is to keep her suspended, so to say, between heaven and earth. whether enveloped in her hammock and slung up to the roof, as in south america, or raised above the ground in a dark and narrow cage, as in new ireland, she may be considered to be out of the way of doing mischief, since, being shut off both from the earth and from the sun, she can poison neither of these great sources of life by her deadly contagion. in short, she is rendered harmless by being, in electrical language, insulated. but the precautions thus taken to isolate or insulate the girl are dictated by a regard for her own safety as well as for the safety of others. for it is thought that she herself would suffer if she were to neglect the prescribed regimen. thus zulu girls, as we have seen, believe that they would shrivel to skeletons if the sun were to shine on them at puberty, and in some brazilian tribes the young women think that a transgression of the rules would entail sores on the neck and throat. in short, the girl is viewed as charged with a powerful force which, if not kept within bounds, may prove destructive both to herself and to all with whom she comes in contact. to repress this force within the limits necessary for the safety of all concerned is the object of the taboos in question. [the same explanation applies to the similar rules of seclusion observed by divine kings and priests; suspension between heaven and earth.] the same explanation applies to the observance of the same rules by divine kings and priests. the uncleanness, as it is called, of girls at puberty and the sanctity of holy men do not, to the primitive mind, differ materially from each other. they are only different manifestations of the same mysterious energy which, like energy in general, is in itself neither good nor bad, but becomes beneficent or maleficent according to its application.[ ] accordingly, if, like girls at puberty, divine personages may neither touch the ground nor see the sun, the reason is, on the one hand, a fear lest their divinity might, at contact with earth or heaven, discharge itself with fatal violence on either; and, on the other hand, an apprehension that the divine being, thus drained of his ethereal virtue, might thereby be incapacitated for the future performance of those magical functions, upon the proper discharge of which the safety of the people and even of the world is believed to hang. thus the rules in question fall under the head of the taboos which we examined in the second part of this work;[ ] they are intended to preserve the life of the divine person and with it the life of his subjects and worshippers. nowhere, it is thought, can his precious yet dangerous life be at once so safe and so harmless as when it is neither in heaven nor in earth, but, as far as possible, suspended between the two.[ ] [stories of immortality attained by suspension between heaven and earth.] in legends and folk-tales, which reflect the ideas of earlier ages, we find this suspension between heaven and earth attributed to beings who have been endowed with the coveted yet burdensome gift of immortality. the wizened remains of the deathless sibyl are said to have been preserved in a jar or urn which hung in a temple of apollo at cumae; and when a group of merry children, tired, perhaps, of playing in the sunny streets, sought the shade of the temple and amused themselves by gathering underneath the familiar jar and calling out, "sibyl, what do you wish?" a hollow voice, like an echo, used to answer from the urn, "i wish to die."[ ] a story, taken down from the lips of a german peasant at thomsdorf, relates that once upon a time there was a girl in london who wished to live for ever, so they say: "_london, london is a fine town. a maiden prayed to live for ever._" and still she lives and hangs in a basket in a church, and every st. john's day, about the hour of noon, she eats a roll of bread.[ ] another german story tells of a lady who resided at danzig and was so rich and so blest with all that life can give that she wished to live always. so when she came to her latter end, she did not really die but only looked like dead, and very soon they found her in a hollow of a pillar in the church, half standing and half sitting, motionless. she stirred never a limb, but they saw quite plainly that she was alive, and she sits there down to this blessed day. every new year's day the sacristan comes and puts a morsel of the holy bread in her mouth, and that is all she has to live on. long, long has she rued her fatal wish who set this transient life above the eternal joys of heaven.[ ] a third german story tells of a noble damsel who cherished the same foolish wish for immortality. so they put her in a basket and hung her up in a church, and there she hangs and never dies, though many a year has come and gone since they put her there. but every year on a certain day they give her a roll, and she eats it and cries out, "for ever! for ever! for ever!" and when she has so cried she falls silent again till the same time next year, and so it will go on for ever and for ever.[ ] a fourth story, taken down near oldenburg in holstein, tells of a jolly dame that ate and drank and lived right merrily and had all that heart could desire, and she wished to live always. for the first hundred years all went well, but after that she began to shrink and shrivel up, till at last she could neither walk nor stand nor eat nor drink. but die she could not. at first they fed her as if she were a little child, but when she grew smaller and smaller they put her in a glass bottle and hung her up in the church. and there she still hangs, in the church of st. mary, at lübeck. she is as small as a mouse, but once a year she stirs.[ ] notes: [ ] pechuel-loesche, "indiscretes aus loango," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j. macdonald, "manners, customs, superstitions, and religions of south african tribes," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xx. ( ) p. . [ ] dudley kidd, _the essential kafir_ (london, ), p. . the prohibition to drink milk under such circumstances is also mentioned, though without the reason for it, by l. alberti (_de kaffersaan de zuidkust van afrika_, amsterdam, , p. ), george thompson (_travels and adventures in southern africa_, london, , ii. _sq._), and mr. warner (in col. maclean's _compendium of kafir laws and customs_; cape town, , p. ). as to the reason for the prohibition, see below, p. . [ ] c.w. hobley, _ethnology of a-kamba and other east african tribes_ (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), p. . as to the interpretation which the baganda put on the act of jumping or stepping over a woman, see _id._, pp. , note . apparently some of the lower congo people interpret the act similarly. see j.h. weeks, "notes on some customs of the lower congo people," _folk-lore_, xix. ( ) p. . among the baganda the separation of children from their parents took place after weaning; girls usually went to live either with an elder married brother or (if there was none such) with one of their father's brothers; boys in like manner went to live with one of their father's brothers. see j. roscoe, _op. cit._ p. . as to the prohibition to touch food with the hands, see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._, _sqq._, etc. [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] de la loubere, _du royaume de siam_ (amsterdam, ), i. . in travancore it is believed that women at puberty and after childbirth are peculiarly liable to be attacked by demons. see s. mateer, _the land of charity_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] c. gouldsbury and h. sheane, _the great plateau of northern nigeria_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] r. sutherland rattray, _some folk-lore, stories and songs in chinyanja_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] rev. h. cole, "notes on the wagogo of german east africa," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] r. sutherland rattray, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] _the grihya sutras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part i. p. , part ii. p. (_sacred books of the east_, vols. xxix., xxx.). [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, compare pp. , . [ ] see _totemism and exogamy_, iv. _sqq._ [ ] sir harry h. johnston, _british central africa_ (london, ), p. . [ ] oscar baumann, _durch massailand zur nilquelle_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] lionel decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), p. . compare e. jacottet, _Études sur les langues du haut-zambèze_, troisième partie (paris, ), pp. _sq._ (as to the a-louyi). [ ] e. béguin, _les ma-rotsé_ (lausanne and fontaines, ), p. . [ ] henri a. junod, _the life of a south african tribe_ (neuchatel, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] g. mccall theal, _kaffir folk-lore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. alberti, _de kaffers aan de zuidkust van afrika_ (amsterdam, ), pp. _sq._; h. lichtenstein, _reisen im südlichen africa_ (berlin, - ), i. . [ ] gustav fritsch, _die eingeborenen süd-afrika's_ (breslau, ), p. . this statement applies especially to the ama-xosa. [ ] g. mccall theal, _kaffir folk-lore_, p. . [ ] rev. canon henry callaway, _nursery tales, traditions, and histories of the zulus_ (natal and london, ), p. , note . from one of the zulu texts which the author edits and translates (p. ) we may infer that during the period of her seclusion a zulu girl may not light a fire. compare above, p. . [ ] e. casalis, _the basutos_ (london, ), p. . [ ] j. merolla, "voyage to congo," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), xvi. ; father campana, "congo; mission catholique de landana," _les missions catholiques_, xxvii. ( ) p. ; r.e. dennett, _at the back of the black man's mind_ (london, ), pp. _sq._. according to merolla, it is thought that if girls did not go through these ceremonies, they would "never be fit for procreation." the other consequences supposed to flow from the omission of the rites are mentioned by father campana. from mr. dennett's account (_op. cit._ pp. , - ) we gather that drought and famine are thought to result from the intercourse of a man with a girl who has not yet passed through the "paint-house," as the hut is called where the young women live in seclusion. according to o. dapper, the women of loango paint themselves red on every recurrence of their monthly sickness; also they tie a cord tightly round their heads and take care neither to touch their husband's food nor to appear before him (_description de l'afrique_, amsterdam, , p. ). [ ] the rev. g. brown, quoted by the rev. b. danks, "marriage customs of the new britain group," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xviii. ( ) pp. . _sq.; id., melanesians and polynesians_ (london, ), pp. - . compare _id._, "notes on the duke of york group, new britain, and new ireland," _journal of the royal geographical society_, xlvii. ( ) pp. _sq._; a. hahl, "das mittlere neumecklenburg," _globus_, xci. ( ) p. . wilfred powell's description of the new ireland custom is similar (_wanderings in a wild country_, london, , p. ). according to him, the girls wear wreaths of scented herbs round the waist and neck; an old woman or a little child occupies the lower floor of the cage; and the confinement lasts only a month. probably the long period mentioned by dr. brown is that prescribed for chiefs' daughters. poor people could not afford to keep their children so long idle. this distinction is sometimes expressly stated. see above, p. . among the goajiras of colombia rich people keep their daughters shut up in separate huts at puberty for periods varying from one to four years, but poor people cannot afford to do so for more than a fortnight or a month. see f.a. simons, "an exploration of the goajira peninsula," _proceedings of the royal geographical society_, n.s., vii. ( ) p. . in fiji, brides who were being tattooed were kept from the sun (thomas williams, _fiji and the fijians_, second edition, london, , i. ). this was perhaps a modification of the melanesian custom of secluding girls at puberty. the reason mentioned by mr. williams, "to improve her complexion," can hardly have been the original one. [ ] rev. r.h. rickard, quoted by dr. george brown, _melanesians and polynesians_, pp. _sq._. his observations were made in . [ ] r. parkinson, _dreissig jahre in der südsee_ (stuttgart, ), p. . the natives told mr. parkinson that the confinement of the girls lasts from twelve to twenty months. the length of it may have been reduced since dr. george brown described the custom in . [ ] j. chalmers and w. wyatt gill, _work and adventure in new guinea_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h. zahn and s. lehner, in r. neuhauss's _deutsch new-guinea_ (berlin, ), iii. , - . the customs of the two tribes seem to be in substantial agreement, and the accounts of them supplement each other. the description of the bukaua practice is the fuller. [ ] c.a.l.m. schwaner, _borneo, beschrijving van het stroomgebied van den barito_ (amsterdam, - ), ii. _sq._; w.f.a. zimmermann, _die inseln des indischen und stillen meeres_ (berlin, - ), ii. _sq._; otto finsch, _neu guinea und seine bewohner_ (bremen, ), pp. _sq._. [ ] j.g.f. riedel, _de sluik--en kroesharige rassen tusschen selebes en papua_ (the hague, ), p. . [ ] a. senfft, "ethnographische beiträge über die karolineninsel yap," _petermanns mitteilungen_, xlix. ( ) p. ; _id._, "die rechtssitten der jap-eingeborenen," _globus_, xci. ( ) pp. _sq._. [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxix. ( ) pp. _sq.; id._, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) p. . [ ] l. crauford, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, _op. cit._ v. . [ ] walter e. roth, _north queensland ethnography, bulletin no. , superstition, magic, and medicine_ (brisbane, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] walter e. roth, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] from notes kindly sent me by dr. c.g. seligmann. the practice of burying a girl at puberty was observed also by some indian tribes of california, but apparently rather for the purpose of producing a sweat than for the sake of concealment. the treatment lasted only twenty-four hours, during which the patient was removed from the ground and washed three or four times, to be afterwards reimbedded. dancing was kept up the whole time by the women. see h. r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. _sq._ [ ] a.l. kroeber, "the religion of the indians of california," _university of california publications in american archaeology and ethnology_, vol. iv. no. (september, ), p. . [ ] roland b. dixon, "the northern maidu," _bulletin of the american museum of natural history_, vol. xvii. part iii. (may ) pp. _sq._, compare pp. - . [ ] stephen powers, _tribes of california_ (washington, ), p. (_contributions to north american ethnology_, vol. iii.). [ ] stephen powers, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] charles wilkes, _narrative of the united states exploring expedition_, new edition (new york, ), iv. . [ ] franz boas, _chinook texts_ (washington, ), pp. _sq._ the account, taken down from the lips of a chinook indian, is not perfectly clear; some of the restrictions were prolonged after the girl's second monthly period. [ ] g.m. sproat, _scenes and studies of savage life_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] franz boas, in _sixth report on the north-western tribes of canada_, pp. - (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, leeds meeting, ). the rule not to lie down is observed also during their seclusion at puberty by tsimshian girls, who always sit propped up between boxes and mats; their heads are covered with small mats, and they may not look at men nor at fresh salmon and olachen. see franz boas, in _fifth report on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, newcastle-upon-tyne meeting, ); g.m. dawson, _report on the queen charlotte islands, _ (montreal, ), pp. b _sq._ some divine kings are not allowed to lie down. see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, p. . [ ] george m. dawson, _report on the queen charlotte islands, _ (montreal, ), p. b; j.r. swanton, _contributions to the ethnology of the haida_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). speaking of the customs observed at kloo, where the girls had to abstain from salmon for five years, mr. swanton says (p. ): "when five years had passed, the girl came out, and could do as she pleased." this seems to imply that the girl was secluded in the house for five years. we have seen (above, p. ) that in new ireland the girls used sometimes to be secluded for the same period. [ ] g.h. von langsdorff, _reise um die welt_ (frankfort, ), ii. _sq._; h.j. holmberg, "ethnographische skizzen über die völker des russischen amerika," _acta societatis scientiarum fennicae_, iv. (helsingfors, ) pp. _sq._; t. de pauly, _description ethnographique des peuples de la russie_ (st. petersburg, ), _peuples de l'amérique russe_, p. ; a. erman, "ethnographische wahrnehmungen und erfahrungen an den küsten des berings-meeres," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq._; h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), i. _sq._; rev. sheldon jackson, "alaska and its inhabitants," _the american antiquarian_, ii. (chicago, - ) pp. _sq._; a. woldt, _captain jacobsen's reise an der nordwestkiiste americas, - _ (leipsic, ), p. ; aurel krause, _die tlinkit-indianer_ (jena, ), pp. _sq._; w.m. grant, in _journal of american folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. ; john r. swanton, "social conditions, beliefs, and linguistic relationship of the tlingit indians," _twenty-sixth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] franz boas, in _tenth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, ipswich meeting, ). [ ] franz boas, in _fifth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, newcastle-upon-tyne meeting, ); _id._, in _seventh report_, etc., p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, cardiff meeting, ). [ ] "customs of the new caledonian women belonging to the nancaushy tine, or stuart's lake indians, natotin tine, or babine's and nantley tine, or fraser lake tribes," from information supplied by gavin hamilton, chief factor of the hudson's bay company's service, who has been for many years among these indians, both he and his wife speaking their languages fluently (communicated by dr. john rae), _journal of the anthropological institute_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] Émile petitot, _traditions indiennes du canada nord-ouest_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] fr. julius jetté, s.j., "on the superstitions of the ten'a indians," _anthropos_, vi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] compare _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq._ [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). as to the customs observed among these indians by the father of a girl at such times in order not to lose his luck in hunting, see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. . [ ] james teit, _the lillooet indians_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). compare c. hill tout, "report on the ethnology of the stlatlumh of british columbia," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxv. ( ) p. . [ ] franz boas, in _sixth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, pp. _sq_. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, leeds meeting, ). [ ] james teit, _the shuswap_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). [ ] g.h. loskiel, _history of the mission of the united brethren among the indians of north america_ (london, ), part i. pp. _sq_. [ ] g.b. grinnell, "cheyenne woman customs," _american anthropologist_, new series, iv. (new york, ) pp. _sq_. the cheyennes appear to have been at first settled on the mississippi, from which they were driven westward to the missouri. see _handbook of american indians north of mexico_, edited by f.w. hodge (washington, - ), i. _sqq_. [ ] h.j. holmberg, "ueber die völker des russischen amerika," _acta societatis scientiarum fennicae_, iv. (helsingfors, ) pp. _sq._; ivan petroff, _report on the population, industries and resources of alaska_, p. . [ ] e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. . [ ] jose guevara, "historia del paraguay, rio de la plata, y tucuman," pp. _sq._, in pedro de angelis, _coleccion de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las provincias del rio de la plata_, vol. ii. (buenos-ayres, ); j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ [ ] father ignace chomé, in _lettres Édifiantes et curieuses_, nouvelle edition (paris, - ), viii. . as to the chiriguanos, see c.f. phil. von martius, _zur ethnographie amerika's, zumal brasiliens_ (leipsic, ), pp. _sqq._; colonel g.e. church, _aborigines of south america_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] a. thouar, _explorations dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._; g. kurze, "sitten und gebräuche der lengua-indianer," _mitteilungen der geographischen gesellschaft zu jena_, xxiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the two accounts appear to be identical; but the former attributes the custom to the chiriguanos, the latter to the lenguas. as the latter account is based on the reports of the rev. w.b. grubb, a missionary who has been settled among the indians of the chaco for many years and is our principal authority on them, i assume that the ascription of the custom to the lenguas is correct. however, in the volume on the lengua indians, which has been edited from mr. grubb's papers (_an unknown people in an unknown land_, london, ), these details as to the seclusion of girls at puberty are not mentioned, though what seems to be the final ceremony is described (_op. cit._ pp. _sq._). from the description we learn that boys dressed in ostrich feathers and wearing masks circle round the girl with shrill cries, but are repelled by the women. [ ] alcide d'orbigny, _voyage dans l'amérique méridionale_ vol. iii. to partie (paris and strasburg, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] a. thouar, _explorations dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ) pp. _sq._; father cardus, quoted in j. pelleschi's _los indios matacos_ (buenos ayres, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. thouar, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] francis de castelnau, _expédition dans les parties centrales de l'amérique du sud_ (paris, - ), v. . [ ] d. luis de la cruz, "descripcion de la naturaleza de los terrenos que se comprenden en los andes, poseidos por los peguenches y los demas espacios hasta el rio de chadileuba," p. , in pedro de angelis, _coleccion de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las provincias del rio de la plata_, vol. i. (buenos-ayres, ). apparently the peguenches are an indian tribe of chili. [ ] j.b. von spix und c.f. ph. von martius, _reise in brasilien_ (munich, - ), iii. , , . [ ] andré thevet, _cosmographie universelle_ (paris, ), ii. b [ ] _sq._; _id., les singularites de la france antarctique, autrement nommée amerique_ (antwerp, ), p. ; j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. _sqq_. [ ] r. schomburgk, _reisen in britisch guiana_ (leipsic, - ), ii. _sq._; c.f.ph. von martius, _zur ethnographie amerika's, zumal brasiliens_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] labat, _voyage du chevalier des marchais en guinée, isles voisines, et à cayenne_, iv. _sq._ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ (amsterdam, ). [ ] a. caulin, _historia coro-graphica natural y evangelica dela nueva andalucia_ ( ), p. . a similar custom, with the omission of the stinging, is reported of the tamanaks in the region of the orinoco. see f.s. gilij, _saggio di storia americana_, ii. (rome, ), p. . [ ] a.r. wallace, _narrative of travels on the amazon and rio negro_, p. (p. of the minerva library edition, london, ). [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._; _the scapegoat_> pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.b. von spix and c.f.ph. von martius, _reise in brasilien_ (munich, - ), iii. . [ ] w. lewis herndon, _exploration of the valley of the amazon_ (washington, ), pp. _sq._ the scene was described to mr. herndon by a french engineer and architect, m. de lincourt, who witnessed it at manduassu, a village on the tapajos river. mr. herndon adds: "the _tocandeira_ ants not only bite, but are also armed with a sting like the wasp; but the pain felt from it is more violent. i think it equal to that occasioned by the sting of the black scorpion." he gives the name of the indians as mahues, but i assume that they are the same as the mauhes described by spix and martius. [ ] francis de castelnau, _expédition dans les parties centrals de l'amérique du sud_ (paris, - ), v. . [ ] l'abbé durand, "le rio negro du nord et son bassin," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), vi. série, iii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the writer says that the candidate has to keep his arms plunged up to the shoulders in vessels full of ants, "as in a bath of vitriol," for hours. he gives the native name of the ant as _issauba_. [ ] j. crevaux, _voyages dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), pp. - . [ ] h. coudreau, _chez nos indiens: quatre années dans la guyane française_ (paris, ), p. . for details as to the different modes of administering the _maraké_ see _ibid._ pp. - . [ ] father geronimo boscana, "chinigchinich," in _life in california by an american_ [a. robinson] (new york, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] f. stuhlmann, _mit emin pascha ins herz von afrika_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] as a confirmation of this view it may be pointed out that beating or scourging is inflicted on inanimate objects expressly for the purpose indicated in the text. thus the indians of costa rica hold that there are two kinds of ceremonial uncleanness, _nya_ and _bu-ku-rú_. anything that has been connected with a death is _nya_. but _bu-ku-rú_ is much more virulent. it can not only make one sick but kill. "_bu-ku-rú_ emanates in a variety of ways; arms, utensils, even houses become affected by it after long disuse, and before they can be used again must be purified. in the case of portable objects left undisturbed for a long time, the custom is to beat them with a stick before touching them. i have seen a woman take a long walking-stick and beat a basket hanging from the roof of a house by a cord. on asking what that was for, i was told that the basket contained her treasures, that she would probably want to take something out the next day, and that she was driving off the _bu-ku-rú_. a house long unused must be swept, and then the person who is purifying it must take a stick and beat not only the movable objects, but the beds, posts, and in short every accessible part of the interior. the next day it is fit for occupation. a place not visited for a long time or reached for the first time is _bu-ku-rú_. on our return from the ascent of pico blanco, nearly all the party suffered from little calenturas, the result of extraordinary exposure to wet and cold and of want of food. the indians said that the peak was especially _bu-ku-rú_ since nobody had ever been on it before." one day mr. gabb took down some dusty blow-guns amid cries of _bu-ku-rú_ from the indians. some weeks afterwards a boy died, and the indians firmly believed that the _bu-ku-rú_ of the blow-guns had killed him. "from all the foregoing, it would seem that _bu-ku-rú_ is a sort of evil spirit that takes possession of the object, and resents being disturbed; but i have never been able to learn from the indians that they consider it so. they seem to think of it as a property the object acquires. but the worst _bu-ku-rú_ of all, is that of a young woman in her first pregnancy. she infects the whole neighbourhood. persons going from the house where she lives, carry the infection with them to a distance, and all the deaths or other serious misfortunes in the vicinity are laid to her charge. in the old times, when the savage laws and customs were in full force, it was not an uncommon thing for the husband of such a woman to pay damages for casualties thus caused by his unfortunate wife." see wm. m. gabb, "on the indian tribes and languages of costa rica," _proceedings of the american philosophical society held at philadelphia_, xiv. (philadelphia, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j. chaffanjon, _l'orénoque et le caura_ (paris, ), pp. - . [ ] shib chunder bose, _the hindoos as they are_ (london and calcutta, ), p. . similarly, after a brahman boy has been invested with the sacred thread, he is for three days strictly forbidden to see the sun. he may not eat salt, and he is enjoined to sleep either on a carpet or a deer's skin, without a mattress or mosquito curtain (_ibid._ p. ). in bali, boys who have had their teeth filed, as a preliminary to marriage, are kept shut up in a dark room for three days (r. van eck, "schetsen van het eiland bali," _tijdschrift voor nederlandsch indië_, n.s., ix. ( ) pp. _sq._). [ ] (sir) h.h. risley, _tribes and castes of bengal, ethnographic glossary_ (calcutta, - ), i. . [ ] edgar thurston, _castes and tribes of southern india_ (madras, ), vii. _sq._ [ ] edgar thurston, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] edgar thurston, _op. cit._ vi. . [ ] s. mateer, _native life in travancore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] arthur a. perera, "glimpses of singhalese social life," _indian antiquary_ xxxi, ( ) p. . [ ] j. moura, _le royaume du cambodge_ (paris, ), i. . [ ] Étienne aymonier, "notes sur les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses des cambodgiens," _cochinchine française: excursions et reconnaissances_, no. (saigon, ), pp. _sq._ compare _id., notice sur le cambodge_ (paris, ), p. _id., notes sur le laos_ (saigon, ), p. . [ ] svend grundtvig, _dänische volks-märchen_, übersetzt von a. strodtmann, zweite sammlung (leipsic, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] christian schneller, _märchen und sagen aus wälschtirol_ (innsbruck, ), no. , pp. _sqq._ [ ] bernbard schmidt, _griechische märchen, sagen und volkslieder_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] j.g. von hahn, _griechische und albanesische märchen_ (leipsic, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._ [ ] laura gonzenbach, _sicilianische märchen_ (leipsic, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._ the incident of the bone occurs in other folk-tales. a prince or princess is shut up for safety in a tower and makes his or her escape by scraping a hole in the wall with a bone which has been accidentally conveyed into the tower; sometimes it is expressly said that care was taken to let the princess have no bones with her meat (j.g. von hahn, _op. cit._ no. ; l. gonzenbach, _op. cit._ nos. , ; _der pentamerone, aus dem neapolitanischen übertragen_ von felix liebrecht (breslau, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._). from this we should infer that it is a rule with savages not to let women handle the bones of animals during their monthly seclusions. we have already seen the great respect with which the savage treats the bones of game (_spirits of the corn and of the wild_ ii. _sqq._, _sqq._); and women in their courses are specially forbidden to meddle with the hunter or fisher, as their contact or neighbourhood would spoil his sport (see below, pp. , _sq._, , _sqq._). in folk-tales the hero who uses the bone is sometimes a boy; but the incident might easily be transferred from a girl to a boy after its real meaning had been forgotten. amongst the tinneh indians a girl at puberty is forbidden to break the bones of hares (above, p. ). on the other hand, she drinks out of a tube made of a swan's bone (above, pp. , ), and the same instrument is used for the same purpose by girls of the carrier tribe of indians (see below, p. ). we have seen that a tlingit (thlinkeet) girl in the same circumstances used to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle (above, p. ), and that among the nootka and shuswap tribes girls at puberty are provided with bones or combs with which to scratch themselves, because they may not use their fingers for this purpose (above, pp. , ). [ ] sophocles, _antigone_, _sqq._; apollodorus, _bibliotheca_, ii. . i; horace, _odes_, iii. . i _sqq._; pausanias, ii. . . [ ] w. radloff, _proben der volks-litteratur der türkischen stämme süd-siberiens,_ iii. (st. petersburg, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] h. ternaux-compans, _essai sur l'ancien cundinamarca_ (paris, n.d.), p. . [ ] george turner, ll.d., _samoa, a hundred years ago and long before_ (london, ), p. . for other examples of such tales, see adolph bastian, _die voelker des oestlichen asien_, i. , vi. ; _panjab notes and queries_, ii. p. , § (june, ); a. pfizmaier, "nachrichten von den alten bewohnern des heutigen corea," _sitzungsberichte der philosoph. histor. classe der kaiser. akademie der wissenschaften_ (vienna), lvii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] thomas j. hutchinson, "on the chaco and other indians of south america," _transactions of the ethnological society of london_, n.s. iii. ( ) p. . amongst the lengua indians of the paraguayan chaco the marriage feast is now apparently extinct. see w. barbrooke grubb, _an unknown people in an unknown land_ (london, ), p. . [ ] monier williams, _religious thought and life in india_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h. vambery, _das türkenvolk_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] hans egede, _a description of greenland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _revue des traditions populaires_, xv. ( ) p. . [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] h.e.a. meyer, "manners and customs of the aborigines of the encounter bay tribe, south australia," _the native tribes of south australia_ (adelaide, ), p. . [ ] e.j. eyre, _journals of expeditions of discovery into central australia_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] e.j. eyre, _op. cit._ ii. . [ ] r. brough smyth, _the aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . [ ] samuel gason, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), p. ; _idem, northern tribes of central australia_ (london, ), p. . [ ] james dawson, _australian aborigines_ (melbourne, sydney, and adelaide, ), pp. ci. _sq._ [ ] rev. william ridley, "report on australian languages and traditions," _journal of the anthropological institute_, ii. ( ) p. . compare _id., kamilaroi and other australian languages_ (sydney, ), p. . [ ] a.w. howitt, _the native tribes of south-east australia_ (london, .), pp. _sq._, on the authority of mr. j.c. muirhead. the wakelbura are in central queensland. compare captain w.e. armit, quoted in _journal of the anthropological institute_, ix. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) pp. , . [ ] ch. keysser, "aus dem leben der kaileute," in r. neuhauss's _deutsch neu-guinea_ (berlin, ), iii. . [ ] m.j. van baarda, "fabelen, verhalen en overleveringen der galelareezen," _bijdragen tot de taal-landen volkenkinde van nederlandsch-indië_, xlv. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l. van der toorn, "het animisme bij den minangkabauer der padangsche bovenlanden," _bijdragen tot de taal-land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_, xxxix. ( ) p. . [ ] w.h.i. bleek, _a brief account of bushman folk-lore_ (london, ), p. ; compare _ibid._, p. . [ ] rev. james macdonald, "manners, customs, superstitions and religions of south african tribes," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xx. ( ) p. ; _id., light in africa_, second edition (london, ), p. . [ ] dudley kidd, _the essential kafir_ (london, ), p. ; mr. warren's notes, in col. maclean's _compendium of kafir laws and customs_ (cape town, ), p. ; rev. j. macdonald, _light in africa_, p. ; _id., religion and myth_ (london, ), p. . compare henri a. junod, "les conceptions physiologiques des bantou sud-africains et leurs tabous," _revue d'ethnographie et de sociologie_, i. ( ) p. . the danger of death to the cattle from the blood of women is mentioned only by mr. kidd. the part of the village which is frequented by the cattle, and which accordingly must be shunned by women, has a special name, _inkundhla_ (mr. warner's notes, _l.c._). [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "the bahima, a cow tribe of enkole," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xxxvii. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxi. ( ) p. ; _id._, "further notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) p. ; _id., the baganda_, p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] c.w. hobley, "further researches into kikuyu and kamba religious beliefs and customs," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xli. ( ) p. . [ ] mervyn w.h. beech, _the suk, their language and folklore_ (oxford, ), p. . [ ] h.s. stannus, "notes on some tribes of british central africa," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xl. ( ) p. ; r. sutherland rattray, _some folk-lore stories and songs in chinyanja_ (london, ), p. . see above, p. . [ ] jakob spieth, _die ewe-stämme_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] anton witte, "menstruation und pubertätsfeier der mädchen in kpandugebiet togo," _baessler-archiv_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] th. nöldeke, _geschichte der perser und araber zur zeit der sassaniden, aus der arabischen chronik des tabari übersetzt_ (leyden, ), pp. - . i have to thank my friend professor a.a. bevan for pointing out to me this passage. many ancient cities had talismans on the preservation of which their safety was believed to depend. the palladium of troy is the most familiar instance. see chr. a. lobeck, _aglaophamus_ (königsberg, ), pp. _sqq._, and my note on pausanias, viii. . (vol. iv. pp. _sq._). [ ] j. mergel, _die medezin der talmudisten_ (leipsic and berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] maimonides, quoted by d. chwolsohn, _die ssabier und der ssabismus_ (st. petersburg, ), ii. . according to the editor (p. ) by the east maimonides means india and eastern countries generally. [ ] l'abbé béchara chémali, "naissance et premier âge au liban," _anthropos_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] eijub abela, "beiträge zur kenntniss abergläubischer gebräuche in syrien," _zeitschrift des deutschen palaestina-vereins_, vii. ( ) p. . [ ] j. chalmers, "toaripi," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxvii. ( ) p. . [ ] w. crooke, _tribes and castes of the north-western provinces and qudh_ (calcutta, ), ii. . [ ] w. crooke, in _north indian notes and queries_, i. p. , § (july, ). [ ] l.k. anantha krishna iyer, _the cochin tribes and castes_, i. (madras, ) pp. - . as to the seclusion of menstruous women among the hindoos, see also sonnerat, _voyage aux indes orientates et à la chine_ (paris, ), i. ; j.a. dubois, _moeurs, institutions et cérémonies des peuples de l'inde_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ nair women in malabar seclude themselves for three days at menstruation and prepare their food in separate pots and pans. see duarte barbosa, _description of the coasts of east africa and malabar in the beginning of the sixteenth century_ (hakluyt society, london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. hoffman, _auszüge aus syrischen akten persisischer martyrer übersetzt_ (leipsic, ), p. . this passage was pointed out to me by my friend professor a.a. bevan. [ ] j.b. tavernier, _voyages en turquie, en perse, et aux indes_ (the hague, ), i. . [ ] paul giran, _magie et religion annamites_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._, . [ ] joseph gumilla, _histoire naturelle, civile, et géographique de l'orenoque_ (avignon, ), i. . [ ] dr. louis plassard, "les guaraunos et le delta de l'orénoque," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), v. série, xv. ( ) p. . [ ] j. crevaux, _voyages dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), p. . as to the customs observed at menstruation by indian women in south america, see further a. d'orbigny, _l'homme americain_ (paris, ), i. . [ ] chas. n. bell, "the mosquito territory," _journal of the royal geographical society_, xxxii. ( ) p. . [ ] h. pittier de fabrega, "die sprache der bribri-indianer in costa rica," _sitztungsberichte der philosophischen-historischen classe der kaiserlichen akademie der wissenschaften_ (vienna), cxxxviii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] gabriel sagard, _le grand voyage du pays des hurons_, nouvelle Édition (paris, ), p. (original edition, paris, ); j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. ; charlevoix, _histoire de la nouvelle france_ (paris, ), v. _sq._; captain jonathan carver, _travels through the interior parts of north america_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._; captains lewis and clark, _expedition to the sources of the missouri_, etc. (london, ), iii. (original edition, ); rev. jedidiah morse, _report to the secretary of war of the united states on indian affairs_ (new haven, ), pp. _sq._; _annales de l'association de la propagation de la foi_, iv, (paris and lyons, ) pp. , _sq._; george catlin, _letters and notes on the manners, customs, and condition of the north american indians_, fourth edition (london, ), ii. ; h.r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. ; a.l. kroeber, "the religion of the indians of california," _university of california publication in american archaeology and ethnology_, vol. iv. no. (berkeley, september, ), pp. _sq._; frank g. speck, _ethnology of the yuchi indians_ (philadelphia, ), p. . among the hurons of canada women at their periods did not retire from the house or village, but they ate from small dishes apart from the rest of the family at these times (gabriel sagard, _l.c._). [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] bossu, _nouveaux voyages aux indes occidentales_ (paris, ), ii. . [ ] edwin james, _account of an expedition from pittsburgh to the rocky mountains_ (london, ), i. . [ ] william h. keating, _narrative of an expedition to the source of st. peter's river_ (london, ), i. . [ ] g.b. grinnell, "cheyenne woman customs," _american anthropologist_, new series, iv. (new york, ) p. . [ ] c. hill tout, "ethnological report on the stseelis and skaulits tribes of the halokmelem division of the salish of british columbia," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). [ ] samuel hearne, _journey from prince of wales's fort in hudson's bay to the northern ocean_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; alex. mackenzie, _voyages through the continent of north america_ (london, ), p. cxxiii.; e. petitot, _monographic des déné-dindjié_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] c. leemius, _de lapponibus finmarchiae eorumque lingua vita et religione pristina_ (copenhagen, ), p. . [ ] e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. . [ ] the carriers are a tribe of déné or tinneh indians who get their name from a custom observed among them by widows, who carry, or rather used to carry, the charred bones of their dead husbands about with them in bundles. [ ] hence we may conjecture that the similar ornaments worn by mabuiag girls in similar circumstances are also amulets. see above, p. . among the aborigines of the upper yarra river in victoria, a girl at puberty used to have cords tied very tightly round several parts of her body. the cords were worn for several days, causing the whole body to swell very much and inflicting great pain. the girl might not remove them till she was clean. see r. brough smyth, _aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . perhaps the cords were intended to arrest the flow of blood. [ ] rev. father a.g. morice, "the western dénés, their manners and customs," _proceedings of the canadian institute, toronto_, third series, vii. ( - ) pp. - . the writer has repeated the substance of this account in a later work, _au pays de l'ours noir: chez les sauvages de la colombia britannique_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a.g. morice, "notes, archaeological, industrial, and sociological, on the western dénés," _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) pp. _sq._ compare rev. father julius jetté, "on the superstitions of the ten'a indians," _anthropos_, vi. ( ) pp. _sq._, who tells us that tinneh women at these times may not lift their own nets, may not step over other people's nets, and may not pass in a boat or canoe near a place where nets are being set. [ ] a.g. morice, in _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) pp. , . [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, p. (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april ). [ ] see above, p. . [ ] _laws of manu_, translated by g. buhler (oxford, ), ch. iv. _sq._, p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxv.). [ ] _the zend-avesta_, translated by j. darmesteter, i. (oxford, ) p. xcii. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. iv.). see _id._, pp. , - , _fargard_, i. and , xvi. - . [ ] pliny, _nat. hist._ vii. _sq._, xxviii. _sqq._ compare _geoponica_, xii. . and . ; columella, _de re rustica_, xi. _sqq._ [ ] august schleicher, _volkstümliches aus sonnenberg_ (weimar, ), p. ; b. souché, _croyances, présages et traditions diverses_ (niort, ), p. ; a. meyrac, _traditions, coutumes légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), p. ; v. fossel, _volksmedicin und medicinischer aberglaube in steiermark[ ]_ (graz, ), p. . a correspondent, who withholds her name, writes to me that in a suffolk village, where she used to live some twenty or thirty years ago, "every one pickled their own beef, and it was held that if the pickling were performed by a woman during her menstrual period the meat would not keep. if the cook were incapacitated at the time when the pickling was due, another woman was sent for out of the village rather than risk what was considered a certainty." another correspondent informs me that in some of the dales in the north of yorkshire a similar belief prevailed down to recent years with regard to the salting of pork. another correspondent writes to me: "the prohibition that a menstruating woman must not touch meat that is intended for keeping appears to be common all over the country; at least i have met with it as a confirmed and active custom in widely separated parts of england.... it is in regard to the salting of meat for bacon that the prohibition is most usual, because that is the commonest process; but it exists in regard to any meat food that is required to be kept." [ ] r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] w.r. paton, in _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] the greeks and romans thought that a field was completely protected against insects if a menstruous woman walked round it with bare feet and streaming hair (pliny, _nat. hist._ xvii. , xxviii. ; columella, _de re rustica_, x. _sq._, xi. . ; palladius, _de re rustica_, i. . ; _geoponica_, xii. . _sq._; aelian, _nat. anim._ vi. ). a similar preventive is employed for the same purpose by north american indians and european peasants. see h.r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. ; f.j. wiedemann, _aus dem inneren und aüssern leben der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . compare j. haltrich, _zur volkskunde der siebenbürger sachsen_ (vienna, ), p. ; adolph heinrich, _agrarische sitten und gebräuche unter den sachsen siebenbürgens_ (hermannstadt, ), p. ; j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] iii. ; g. lammert, _volksmedizin und medizinischer aberglaube aus bayern_ (würzburg, ), p. . among the western dénés it is believed that one or two transverse lines tattooed on the arms or legs of a young man by a pubescent girl are a specific against premature weakness of these limbs. see a.g. morice, "notes, archaeological, industrial, and sociological, on the western dénés," _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) p. . the thompson indians of british columbia thought that the dawn of day could and would cure hernia if only an adolescent girl prayed to it to do so. just before daybreak the girl would put some charcoal in her mouth, chew it fine, and spit it out four times on the diseased place. then she prayed: "o day-dawn! thy child relies on me to obtain healing from thee, who art mystery. remove thou the swelling of thy child. pity thou him, day-dawn!" see james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). to cure the painful and dangerous wound inflicted by a ray-fish, the indians of the gran chaco smoke the wounded limb and then cause a woman in her courses to sit astride of it. see g. pelleschi, _eight months on the gran chaco of the argentine republic_ (london, ), p. . an ancient hindoo method of securing prosperity was to swallow a portion of the menstruous fluid. see w. caland, _altindisches zauberritual_ (amsterdam, ), pp. _sq._ to preserve a new cow from the evil eye scottish highlanders used to sprinkle menstruous blood on the animal; and at certain seasons of the year, especially at beltane (the first of may) and lammas (the first of august) it was their custom to sprinkle the same potent liquid on the doorposts and houses all round to guard them from harm. the fluid was applied by means of a wisp of straw, and the person who discharged this salutary office went round the house in the direction of the sun. see j.g. campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. . these are examples of the beneficent application of the menstruous energy. [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] for a similar reason, perhaps, ancient hindoo ritual prescribed that when the hair of a child's head was shorn in the third year, the clippings should be buried in a cow-stable, or near an _udumbara_ tree, or in a clump of _darbha_ grass, with the words, "where pushan, brihaspati, savitri, soma, agni dwell, they have in many ways searched where they should deposit it, between heaven and earth, the waters and heaven." see _the grihya-sûtras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part ii. (oxford, ) p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxx.). [ ] petronius, _sat._ ; pausanias, x. : ; justin martyr, _cohort ad graecos_, , p. c (ed. ). according to another account, the remains of the sibyl were enclosed in an iron cage which hung from a pillar in an ancient temple of hercules at argyrus (ampelius, _liber memorialis_, viii. ). [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _nord-deutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. , no. . i. this and the following german parallels to the story of the sibyl's wish were first indicated by dr. m.r. james (_classical review_, vi. ( ) p. ). i have already given the stories at length in a note on pausanias, x. . (vol. v. pp. _sq._). [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._, no. . . [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _op. cit._ p. , no. . . [ ] karl müllenhoff, _sagen, märchen und lieder der herzogthümer holstein und lauenburg_ (kiel, ), pp. _sg._, no. . chapter iii the myth of balder [how balder, the good and beautiful god, was done to death by a stroke of the mistletoe.] a deity whose life might in a sense be said to be neither in heaven nor on earth but between the two, was the norse balder, the good and beautiful god, the son of the great god odin, and himself the wisest, mildest, best beloved of all the immortals. the story of his death, as it is told in the younger or prose _edda_, runs thus. once on a time balder dreamed heavy dreams which seemed to forebode his death. thereupon the gods held a council and resolved to make him secure against every danger. so the goddess frigg took an oath from fire and water, iron and all metals, stones and earth, from trees, sicknesses and poisons, and from all four-footed beasts, birds, and creeping things, that they would not hurt balder. when this was done balder was deemed invulnerable; so the gods amused themselves by setting him in their midst, while some shot at him, others hewed at him, and others threw stones at him. but whatever they did, nothing could hurt him; and at this they were all glad. only loki, the mischief-maker, was displeased, and he went in the guise of an old woman to frigg, who told him that the weapons of the gods could not wound balder, since she had made them all swear not to hurt him. then loki asked, "have all things sworn to spare balder?" she answered, "east of walhalla grows a plant called mistletoe; it seemed to me too young to swear." so loki went and pulled the mistletoe and took it to the assembly of the gods. there he found the blind god hother standing at the outside of the circle. loki asked him, "why do you not shoot at balder?" hother answered, "because i do not see where he stands; besides i have no weapon." then said loki, "do like the rest and shew balder honour, as they all do. i will shew you where he stands, and do you shoot at him with this twig." hother took the mistletoe and threw it at balder, as loki directed him. the mistletoe struck balder and pierced him through and through, and he fell down dead. and that was the greatest misfortune that ever befell gods and men. for a while the gods stood speechless, then they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly. they took balder's body and brought it to the sea-shore. there stood balder's ship; it was called ringhorn, and was the hugest of all ships. the gods wished to launch the ship and to burn balder's body on it, but the ship would not stir. so they sent for a giantess called hyrrockin. she came riding on a wolf and gave the ship such a push that fire flashed from the rollers and all the earth shook. then balder's body was taken and placed on the funeral pile upon his ship. when his wife nanna saw that, her heart burst for sorrow and she died. so she was laid on the funeral pile with her husband, and fire was put to it. balder's horse, too, with all its trappings, was burned on the pile.[ ] [tale of balder in the older _edda_.] in the older or poetic _edda_ the tragic tale of balder is hinted at rather than told at length. among the visions which the norse sibyl sees and describes in the weird prophecy known as the _voluspa_ is one of the fatal mistletoe. "i behold," says she, "fate looming for balder, woden's son, the bloody victim. there stands the mistletoe slender and delicate, blooming high above the ground. out of this shoot, so slender to look on, there shall grow a harmful fateful shaft. hod shall shoot it, but frigga in fen-hall shall weep over the woe of wal-hall."[ ] yet looking far into the future the sibyl sees a brighter vision of a new heaven and a new earth, where the fields unsown shall yield their increase and all sorrows shall be healed; then balder will come back to dwell in odin's mansions of bliss, in a hall brighter than the sun, shingled with gold, where the righteous shall live in joy for ever more.[ ] [the story of balder as related by saxo grammaticus.] writing about the end of the twelfth century, the old danish historian saxo grammaticus tells the story of balder in a form which professes to be historical. according to him, balder and hother were rival suitors for the hand of nanna, daughter of gewar, king of norway. now balder was a demigod and common steel could not wound his sacred body. the two rivals encountered each other in a terrific battle, and though odin and thor and the rest of the gods fought for balder, yet was he defeated and fled away, and hother married the princess. nevertheless balder took heart of grace and again met hother in a stricken field. but he fared even worse than before; for hother dealt him a deadly wound with a magic sword, which he had received from miming, the satyr of the woods; and after lingering three days in pain balder died of his hurt and was buried with royal honours in a barrow.[ ] [balder worshipped in norway.] whether he was a real or merely a mythical personage, balder was worshipped in norway. on one of the bays of the beautiful sogne fiord, which penetrates far into the depths of the solemn norwegian mountains, with their sombre pine-forests and their lofty cascades dissolving into spray before they reach the dark water of the fiord far below, balder had a great sanctuary. it was called balder's grove. a palisade enclosed the hallowed ground, and within it stood a spacious temple with the images of many gods, but none of them was worshipped with such devotion as balder. so great was the awe with which the heathen regarded the place that no man might harm another there, nor steal his cattle, nor defile himself with women. but women cared for the images of the gods in the temple; they warmed them at the fire, anointed them with oil, and dried them with cloths.[ ] [the legendary death of balder resembles the legendary death of the persian hero isfendiyar in the epic of firdusi.] it might be rash to affirm that the romantic figure of balder was nothing but a creation of the mythical fancy, a radiant phantom conjured up as by a wizard's wand to glitter for a time against the gloomy background of the stern norwegian landscape. it may be so; yet it is also possible that the myth was founded on the tradition of a hero, popular and beloved in his lifetime, who long survived in the memory of the people, gathering more and more of the marvellous about him as he passed from generation to generation of story-tellers. at all events it is worth while to observe that a somewhat similar story is told of another national hero, who may well have been a real man. in his great poem, _the epic of kings_, which is founded on persian traditions, the poet firdusi tells us that in the combat between rustem and isfendiyar the arrows of the former did no harm to his adversary, "because zerdusht had charmed his body against all dangers, so that it was like unto brass." but simurgh, the bird of god, shewed rustem the way he should follow in order to vanquish his redoubtable foe. he rode after her, and they halted not till they came to the sea-shore. there she led him into a garden, where grew a tamarisk, tall and strong, and the roots thereof were in the ground, but the branches pierced even unto the sky. then the bird of god bade rustem break from the tree a branch that was long and slender, and fashion it into an arrow, and she said, "only through his eyes can isfendiyar be wounded. if, therefore, thou wouldst slay him, direct this arrow unto his forehead, and verily it shall not miss its aim." rustem did as he was bid; and when next he fought with isfendiyar, he shot the arrow at him, and it pierced his eye, and he died. great was the mourning for isfendiyar. for the space of one year men ceased not to lament for him, and for many years they shed bitter tears for that arrow, and they said, "the glory of iran hath been laid low."[ ] [the myth of balder was perhaps acted as a magical ceremony. the two chief incidents of the myth, namely the pulling of the mistletoe and the death and burning of the god, have perhaps their counterparts in popular ritual.] whatever may be thought of an historical kernel underlying a mythical husk in the legend of balder, the details of the story suggest that it belongs to that class of myths which have been dramatized in ritual, or, to put it otherwise, which have been performed as magical ceremonies for the sake of producing those natural effects which they describe in figurative language. a myth is never so graphic and precise in its details as when it is, so to speak, the book of the words which are spoken and acted by the performers of the sacred rite. that the norse story of balder was a myth of this sort will become probable if we can prove that ceremonies resembling the incidents in the tale have been performed by norsemen and other european peoples. now the main incidents in the tale are two--first, the pulling of the mistletoe, and second, the death and burning of the god; and both of them may perhaps be found to have had their counterparts in yearly rites observed, whether separately or conjointly, by people in various parts of europe. these rites will be described and discussed in the following chapters. we shall begin with the annual festivals of fire and shall reserve the pulling of the mistletoe for consideration later on. notes: [ ] _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock*[ ] (stuttgart, ), pp. - . compare pp. , , . balder's story is told in a professedly historical form by the old danish historian saxo grammaticus in his third book. see below, p. . in english the story is told at length by professor (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq._ it is elaborately discussed by professor f. knuffmann in a learned monograph, _balder, mythus und sage_ (strasburg, ). [ ] gudbrand vigfusson and f. york powell, _corpus poeticum boreale_, i. (oxford, ) p. . compare _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) pp. _sq._; _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock*[ ] (stuttgart, ), p. ; k. müllenhoff, _deutsche altertumskunde_, v. zweite abteilung (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; fr. kauffmann, _balder, mythus und sage_, pp. _sq._ in this passage the words translated "bloody victim" (_blaupom tivor_) and "fate looming" (_ørlog fólgen_) are somewhat uncertain and have been variously interpreted. the word _tivor_, usually understood to mean "god," seems to be found nowhere else. professor h.m. chadwick has kindly furnished me with the following literal translation of the passage: "i saw (or 'have seen') held in safe keeping the life of balder, the bloody god, othin's son. high above the fields (i.e. the surface of the earth) grew a mistletoe, slender and very beautiful. from a shaft (or 'stem') which appeared slender, came a dangerous sorrow-bringing missile (i.e. the shaft became a ... missile); hodr proceeded to shoot. soon was a brother of balder born. he, othin's son, proceeded to do battle when one day old. he did not wash his hands or comb his head before he brought balder's antagonist on to the pyre. but frigg in fen-salir (i.e. the fen-abode) lamented the trouble of val-holl." in translating the words _ørlog fólgen_ "held in safe keeping the life" professor chadwick follows professor f. kauffmann's rendering ("_das leben verwahrt_"); but he writes to me that he is not quite confident about it, as the word _ørlog_ usually means "fate" rather than "life." several sentences translated by professor chadwick ("soon was a brother of balder born ... he brought balder's antagonist on the pyre") are omitted by some editors and translators of the _edda_. [ ] g. vigfusson and f. york powell, _corpus poeticum boreale_, i. _sq._; _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. pp. - ; _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock,*[ ] p. _sq._; k. müllenhoff, _deutsche altertumskunde_, v. zweite abteilung, pp. _sq._ [ ] saxo grammaticus, _historia danica_, ed. p.e. müller (copenhagen, - ), _lib._ iii. vol. i. pp. _sqq._; _the first nine books of the danish history of saxo grammaticus_, translated by oliver elton (london, ), pp. - . [ ] _fridthjofs saga, aus dem alt-isländischen_, von j.c. poestion, (vienna, ), pp. _sq._, - , - . [ ] _the epic of kings, stories retold from firdusi_, by helen zimmern (london, ), pp. - . the parallel between balder and isfendiyar was pointed out in the "lexicon mythologicum" appended to the _edda rhythmifa seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) p. note, with a reference to _schah namech, verdeutscht von görres_, ii. , _sq._ it is briefly mentioned by dr. p. wagler, _die eiche in alter und neuer zeit_, ii. teil (berlin, ), p. . chapter iv the fire-festivals of europe § . _the lenten fires_ [european custom of kindling bonfires on certain days of the year, dancing round them and leaping over them. effigies are sometimes burnt in the fires.] all over europe the peasants have been accustomed from time immemorial to kindle bonfires on certain days of the year, and to dance round or leap over them. customs of this kind can be traced back on historical evidence to the middle ages,[ ] and their analogy to similar customs observed in antiquity goes with strong internal evidence to prove that their origin must be sought in a period long prior to the spread of christianity. indeed the earliest proof of their observance in northern europe is furnished by the attempts made by christian synods in the eighth century to put them down as heathenish rites.[ ] not uncommonly effigies are burned in these fires, or a pretence is made of burning a living person in them; and there are grounds for believing that anciently human beings were actually burned on these occasions. a general survey of the customs in question will bring out the traces of human sacrifice, and will serve at the same time to throw light on their meaning.[ ] [seasons of the year at which the bonfires are lit.] the seasons of the year when these bonfires are most commonly lit are spring and midsummer; but in some places they are kindled also at the end of autumn or during the course of the winter, particularly on hallow e'en (the thirty-first of october), christmas day, and the eve of twelfth day. we shall consider them in the order in which they occur in the calendar year. the earliest of them is the winter festival of the eve of twelfth day (the fifth of january); but as it has been already described in an earlier part of this work[ ] we shall pass it over here and begin with the fire-festivals of spring, which usually fall on the first sunday of lent (_quadragesima_ or _invocavit_),[ ] easter eve, and may day. [custom of kindling bonfires on the first sunday in lent in the belgian ardennes.] the custom of kindling bonfires on the first sunday in lent has prevailed in belgium, the north of france, and many parts of germany. thus in the belgian ardennes for a week or a fortnight before the "day of the great fire," as it is called, children go about from farm to farm collecting fuel. at grand halleux any one who refuses their request is pursued next day by the children, who try to blacken his face with the ashes of the extinct fire. when the day has come, they cut down bushes, especially juniper and broom, and in the evening great bonfires blaze on all the heights. it is a common saying that seven bonfires should be seen if the village is to be safe from conflagrations. if the meuse happens to be frozen hard at the time, bonfires are lit also on the ice. at grand halleux they set up a pole called _makral_ or "the witch," in the midst of the pile, and the fire is kindled by the man who was last married in the village. in the neighbourhood of morlanwelz a straw man is burnt in the fire. young people and children dance and sing round the bonfires, and leap over the embers to secure good crops or a happy marriage within the year, or as a means of guarding themselves against colic. in brabant on the same sunday, down to the beginning of the nineteenth century, women and men disguised in female attire used to go with burning torches to the fields, where they danced and sang comic songs for the purpose, as they alleged, of driving away "the wicked sower," who is mentioned in the gospel for the day. at maeseyck and in many villages of limburg, on the evening of the day children run through the streets carrying lighted torches; then they kindle little fires of straw in the fields and dance round them. at ensival old folks tell young folks that they will have as many easter eggs as they see bonfires on this day.[ ] at pâturages, in the province of hainaut, down to about the custom was observed under the name of _escouvion_ or _scouvion_. every year on the first sunday of lent, which was called the day of the little scouvion, young folks and children used to run with lighted torches through the gardens and orchards. as they ran they cried at the pitch of their voices, "_bear apples, bear pears and cherries all black to scouvion!_" at these words the torch-bearer whirled his blazing brand and hurled it among the branches of the apple-trees, the pear-trees, and the cherry-trees. the next sunday was called the day of the great scouvion, and the same race with lighted torches among the trees of the orchards was repeated in the afternoon till darkness fell. the same custom was observed on the same two days at wasmes.[ ] in the neighbourhood of liège, where the lenten fires were put down by the police about the middle of the nineteenth century, girls thought that by leaping over the fires without being smirched they made sure of a happy marriage. elsewhere in order to get a good husband it was necessary to see seven of the bonfires from one spot. in famenne, a district of namur, men and cattle who traversed the lenten fires were thought to be safe from sickness and witchcraft. anybody who saw seven such fires at once had nothing to fear from sorcerers. an old saying ran, that if you do not light "the great fire," god will light it for you; which seems to imply that the kindling of the bonfires was deemed a protection against conflagrations throughout the year.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in the french department of the ardennes.] in the french department of the ardennes the whole village used to dance and sing round the bonfires which were lighted on the first sunday in lent. here, too, it was the person last married, sometimes a man and sometimes a woman, who put the match to the fire. the custom is still kept up very commonly in the district. cats used to be burnt in the fire or roasted to death by being held over it; and while they were burning the shepherds drove their flocks through the smoke and flames as a sure means of guarding them against sickness and witchcraft. in some communes it was believed that the livelier the dance round the fire, the better would be the crops that year.[ ] in the vosges mountains it is still customary to light great fires on the heights and around the villages on the first sunday in lent; and at rupt and elsewhere the right of kindling them belongs to the person who was last married. round the fires the people dance and sing merrily till the flames have died out. then the master of the fire, as they call the man who kindled it, invites all who contributed to the erection of the pile to follow him to the nearest tavern, where they partake of good cheer. at dommartin they say that, if you would have the hemp tall, it is absolutely necessary that the women should be tipsy on the evening of this day.[ ] at Épinal in the vosges, on the first sunday in lent, bonfires used to be kindled at various places both in the town and on the banks of the moselle. they consisted of pyramids of sticks and faggots, which had been collected some days earlier by young folks going from door to door. when the flames blazed up, the names of various couples, whether young or old, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, were called out, and the persons thus linked in mock marriage were forced, whether they liked it or not, to march arm in arm round the fire amid the laughter and jests of the crowd. the festivity lasted till the fire died out, and then the spectators dispersed through the streets, stopping under the windows of the houses and proclaiming the names of the _féchenots_ and _féchenottes_ or valentines whom the popular voice had assigned to each other. these couples had to exchange presents; the mock bridegroom gave his mock bride something for her toilet, while she in turn presented him with a cockade of coloured ribbon. next sunday, if the weather allowed it, all the couples, arrayed in their best attire and attended by their relations, repaired to the wood of saint antony, where they mounted a famous stone called the _danserosse_ or _danseresse_. here they found cakes and refreshments of all sorts, and danced to the music of a couple of fiddlers. the evening bell, ringing the angelus, gave the signal to depart. as soon as its solemn chime was heard, every one quitted the forest and returned home. the exchange of presents between the valentines went by the name of ransom or redemption (_rachat_), because it was supposed to redeem the couple from the flames of the bonfire. any pair who failed thus to ransom themselves were not suffered to share the merrymaking at the great stone in the forest; and a pretence was made of burning them in small fires kindled before their own doors.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in franche-comté.] in the french province of franche-comté, to the west of the jura mountains, the first sunday of lent is known as the sunday of the firebrands (_brandons_), on account of the fires which it is customary to kindle on that day. on the saturday or the sunday the village lads harness themselves to a cart and drag it about the streets, stopping at the doors of the houses where there are girls and begging for a faggot. when they have got enough, they cart the fuel to a spot at some little distance from the village, pile it up, and set it on fire. all the people of the parish come out to see the bonfire. in some villages, when the bells have rung the angelus, the signal for the observance is given by cries of, "to the fire! to the fire!" lads, lasses, and children dance round the blaze, and when the flames have died down they vie with each other in leaping over the red embers. he or she who does so without singeing his or her garments will be married within the year. young folk also carry lighted torches about the streets or the fields, and when they pass an orchard they cry out, "more fruit than leaves!" down to recent years at laviron, in the department of doubs, it was the young married couples of the year who had charge of the bonfires. in the midst of the bonfire a pole was planted with a wooden figure of a cock fastened to the top. then there were races, and the winner received the cock as a prize.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in auvergne; the granno invoked at these bonfires may be the old celtic god grannus, who was identified with apollo.] in auvergne fires are everywhere kindled on the evening of the first sunday in lent. every village, every hamlet, even every ward, every isolated farm has its bonfire or _figo_, as it is called, which blazes up as the shades of night are falling. the fires may be seen flaring on the heights and in the plains; the people dance and sing round about them and leap through the flames. then they proceed to the ceremony of the _grannas-mias_. a _granno-mio_[ ] is a torch of straw fastened to the top of a pole. when the pyre is half consumed, the bystanders kindle the torches at the expiring flames and carry them into the neighbouring orchards, fields, and gardens, wherever there are fruit-trees. as they march they sing at the top of their voices, "_granno, mo mio, granno, mon pouère, granno, mo mouère!_" that is, "grannus my friend, grannus my father, grannus my mother." then they pass the burning torches under the branches of every tree, singing, "_brando, brandounci tsaque brantso, in plan panei!_" that is, "firebrand burn; every branch a basketful!" in some villages the people also run across the sown fields and shake the ashes of the torches on the ground; also they put some of the ashes in the fowls' nests, in order that the hens may lay plenty of eggs throughout the year. when all these ceremonies have been performed, everybody goes home and feasts; the special dishes of the evening are fritters and pancakes.[ ] here the application of the fire to the fruit-trees, to the sown fields, and to the nests of the poultry is clearly a charm intended to ensure fertility; and the granno to whom the invocations are addressed, and who gives his name to the torches, may possibly be, as dr. pommerol suggests,[ ] no other than the ancient celtic god grannus, whom the romans identified with apollo, and whose worship is attested by inscriptions found not only in france but in scotland and on the danube.[ ] if the name grannus is derived, as the learned tell us, from a root meaning "to glow, burn, shine,"[ ] the deity who bore the name and was identified with apollo may well have been a sun-god; and in that case the prayers addressed to him by the peasants of the auvergne, while they wave the blazing, crackling torches about the fruit-trees, would be eminently appropriate. for who could ripen the fruit so well as the sun-god? and what better process could be devised to draw the blossoms from the bare boughs than the application to them of that genial warmth which is ultimately derived from the solar beams? thus the fire-festival of the first sunday in lent, as it is observed in auvergne, may be interpreted very naturally and simply as a religious or rather perhaps magical ceremony designed to procure a due supply of the sun's heat for plants and animals. at the same time we should remember that the employment of fire in this and kindred ceremonies may have been designed originally, not so much to stimulate growth and reproduction, as to burn and destroy all agencies, whether in the shape of vermin, witches, or what not, which threatened or were supposed to threaten the growth of the crops and the multiplication of animals. it is often difficult to decide between these two different interpretations of the use of fire in agricultural rites. in any case the fire-festival of auvergne on the first sunday in lent may date from druidical times. [french custom of carrying lighted torches (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent.] the custom of carrying lighted torches of straw (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent seems to have been common in france, whether it was accompanied with the practice of kindling bonfires or not. thus in the province of picardy "on the first sunday of lent people carried torches through the fields, exorcising the field-mice, the darnel, and the smut. they imagined that they did much good to the gardens and caused the onions to grow large. children ran about the fields, torch in hand, to make the land more fertile. all that was done habitually in picardy, and the ceremony of the torches is not entirely forgotten, especially in the villages on both sides the somme as far as saint-valery."[ ] "a very agreeable spectacle, said the curate of l'Étoile, is to survey from the portal of the church, situated almost on the top of the mountain, the vast plains of vimeux all illuminated by these wandering fires. the same pastime is observed at poix, at conty, and in all the villages round about."[ ] again, in the district of beauce a festival of torches (_brandons_ or _brandelons_) used to be held both on the first and on the second sunday in lent; the first was called "the great torches" and the second "the little torches." the torches were, as usual, bundles of straw wrapt round poles. in the evening the village lads carried the burning brands through the country, running about in disorder and singing, "_torches burn at these vines, at this wheat_; _torches burn for the maidens that shall wed_!" from time to time the bearers would stand still and smite the earth all together with the blazing straw of the torches, while they cried, "a sheaf of a peck and a half!" (_gearbe à boissiaux_). if two torchbearers happened to meet each other on their rounds, they performed the same ceremony and uttered the same words. when the straw was burnt out, the poles were collected and a great bonfire made of them. lads and lasses danced round the flames, and the lads leaped over them. afterwards it was customary to eat a special sort of hasty-pudding made of wheaten flour. these usages were still in vogue at the beginning of the nineteenth century, but they have now almost disappeared. the peasants believed that by carrying lighted torches through the fields they protected the crops from field-mice, darnel, and smut.[ ] "at dijon, in burgundy, it is the custom upon the first sunday in lent to make large fires in the streets, whence it is called firebrand sunday. this practice originated in the processions formerly made on that day by the peasants with lighted torches of straw, to drive away, as they called it, the bad air from the earth."[ ] in some parts of france, while the people scoured the country with burning brands on the first sunday in lent, they warned the fruit-trees that if they did not take heed and bear fruit they would surely be cut down and cast into the fire.[ ] on the same day peasants in the department of loiret used to run about the sowed fields with burning torches in their hands, while they adjured the field-mice to quit the wheat on pain of having their whiskers burned.[ ] in the department of ain the great fires of straw and faggots which are kindled in the fields at this time are or were supposed to destroy the nests of the caterpillars.[ ] at verges, a lonely village surrounded by forests between the jura and the combe d'ain, the torches used at this season were kindled in a peculiar manner. the young people climbed to the top of a mountain, where they placed three nests of straw in three trees. these nests being then set on fire, torches made of dry lime-wood were lighted at them, and the merry troop descended the mountain to their flickering light, and went to every house in the village, demanding roasted peas and obliging all couples who had been married within the year to dance.[ ] in berry, a district of central france, it appears that bonfires are not lighted on this day, but when the sun has set the whole population of the villages, armed with blazing torches of straw, disperse over the country and scour the fields, the vineyards, and the orchards. seen from afar, the multitude of moving lights, twinkling in the darkness, appear like will-o'-the-wisps chasing each other across the plains, along the hillsides, and down the valleys. while the men wave their flambeaus about the branches of the fruit-trees, the women and children tie bands of wheaten-straw round the tree-trunks. the effect of the ceremony is supposed to be to avert the various plagues from which the fruits of the earth are apt to suffer; and the bands of straw fastened round the stems of the trees are believed to render them fruitful.[ ] in the peninsula of la manche the norman peasants used to spend almost the whole night of the first sunday in lent rushing about the country with lighted torches for the purpose, as they supposed, of driving away the moles and field-mice; fires were also kindled on some of the dolmens.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday in lent in germany and austria; burning the witch; burning discs thrown into the air; burning wheels rolled down hill; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in switzerland.] in germany, austria, and switzerland at the same season similar customs have prevailed. thus in the eifel mountains, rhenish prussia, on the first sunday in lent young people used to collect straw and brushwood from house to house. these they carried to an eminence and piled up round a tall, slim beech-tree, to which a piece of wood was fastened at right angles to form a cross. the structure was known as the "hut" or "castle." fire was set to it and the young people marched round the blazing "castle" bareheaded, each carrying a lighted torch and praying aloud. sometimes a straw-man was burned in the "hut." people observed the direction in which the smoke blew from the fire. if it blew towards the corn-fields, it was a sign that the harvest would be abundant. on the same day, in some parts of the eifel, a great wheel was made of straw and dragged by three horses to the top of a hill. thither the village boys marched at nightfall, set fire to the wheel, and sent it rolling down the slope. two lads followed it with levers to set it in motion again, in case it should anywhere meet with a check. at oberstattfeld the wheel had to be provided by the young man who was last married.[ ] about echternach in luxemburg the same ceremony is called "burning the witch"; while it is going on, the older men ascend the heights and observe what wind is blowing, for that is the wind which will prevail the whole year.[ ] at voralberg in the tyrol, on the first sunday in lent, a slender young fir-tree is surrounded with a pile of straw and firewood. to the top of the tree is fastened a human figure called the "witch," made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder. at night the whole is set on fire and boys and girls dance round it, swinging torches and singing rhymes in which the words "corn in the winnowing-basket, the plough in the earth" may be distinguished.[ ] in swabia on the first sunday in lent a figure called the "witch" or the "old wife" or "winter's grandmother" is made up of clothes and fastened to a pole. this is stuck in the middle of a pile of wood, to which fire is applied. while the "witch" is burning, the young people throw blazing discs into the air. the discs are thin round pieces of wood, a few inches in diameter, with notched edges to imitate the rays of the sun or stars. they have a hole in the middle, by which they are attached to the end of a wand. before the disc is thrown it is set on fire, the wand is swung to and fro, and the impetus thus communicated to the disc is augmented by dashing the rod sharply against a sloping board. the burning disc is thus thrown off, and mounting high into the air, describes a long fiery curve before it reaches the ground. a single lad may fling up forty or fifty of these discs, one after the other. the object is to throw them as high as possible. the wand by which they are hurled must, at least in some parts of swabia, be of hazel. sometimes the lads also leap over the fire brandishing lighted torches of pine-wood. the charred embers of the burned "witch" and discs are taken home and planted in the flaxfields the same night, in the belief that they will keep vermin from the fields.[ ] at wangen, near molsheim in baden, a like custom is observed on the first sunday in lent. the young people kindle a bonfire on the crest of the mountain above the village; and the burning discs which they hurl into the air are said to present in the darkness the aspect of a continual shower of falling stars. when the supply of discs is exhausted and the bonfire begins to burn low, the boys light torches and run with them at full speed down one or other of the three steep and winding paths that descend the mountain-side to the village. bumps, bruises, and scratches are often the result of their efforts to outstrip each other in the headlong race.[ ] in the rhön mountains, situated on the borders of hesse and bavaria, the people used to march to the top of a hill or eminence on the first sunday in lent. children and lads carried torches, brooms daubed with tar, and poles swathed in straw. a wheel, wrapt in combustibles, was kindled and rolled down the hill; and the young people rushed about the fields with their burning torches and brooms, till at last they flung them in a heap, and standing round them, struck up a hymn or a popular song. the object of running about the fields with the blazing torches was to "drive away the wicked sower." or it was done in honour of the virgin, that she might preserve the fruits of the earth throughout the year and bless them.[ ] in neighbouring villages of hesse, between the rhön and the vogel mountains, it is thought that wherever the burning wheels roll, the fields will be safe from hail and storm.[ ] at konz on the moselle, on the thursday before the first sunday in lent, the two guilds of the butchers and the weavers used to repair to the marxberg and there set up an oak-tree with a wheel fastened to it. on the following sunday the people ascended the hill, cut down the oak, set fire to the wheel, and sent both oak and wheel rolling down the hillside, while a guard of butchers, mounted on horses, fired at the flaming wheel in its descent. if the wheel rolled down into the moselle, the butchers were rewarded with a waggon-load of wine by the archbishop of treves.[ ] [burning discs thrown into the air.] in switzerland, also, it is or used to be customary to kindle bonfires on high places on the evening of the first sunday in lent, and the day is therefore popularly known as spark sunday. the custom prevailed, for example, throughout the canton of lucerne. boys went about from house to house begging for wood and straw, then piled the fuel on a conspicuous mountain or hill round about a pole, which bore a straw effigy called "the witch." at nightfall the pile was set on fire, and the young folks danced wildly round it, some of them cracking whips or ringing bells; and when the fire burned low enough, they leaped over it. this was called "burning the witch." in some parts of the canton also they used to wrap old wheels in straw and thorns, put a light to them, and send them rolling and blazing down hill. the same custom of rolling lighted wheels down hill is attested by old authorities for the cantons of aargau and bâle. the more bonfires could be seen sparkling and flaring in the darkness, the more fruitful was the year expected to be; and the higher the dancers leaped beside or over the fire, the higher, it was thought, would grow the flax. in the district of freiburg and at birseck in the district of bâle it was the last married man or woman who must kindle the bonfire. while the bonfires blazed up, it was customary in some parts of switzerland to propel burning discs of wood through the air by means of the same simple machinery which is used for the purpose in swabia. each lad tried to send his disc fizzing and flaring through the darkness as far as possible, and in discharging it he mentioned the name of the person to whose honour it was dedicated. but in prättigau the words uttered in launching the fiery discs referred to the abundance which was apparently expected to follow the performance of the ceremony. among them were, "grease in the pan, corn in the fan, and the plough in the earth!"[ ] [connexion of these bonfires with the custom of "carrying out death;" effigies burnt on shrove tuesday.] it seems hardly possible to separate from these bonfires, kindled on the first sunday in lent, the fires in which, about the same season, the effigy called death is burned as part of the ceremony of "carrying out death." we have seen that at spachendorf, in austrian silesia, on the morning of rupert's day (shrove tuesday?), a straw-man, dressed in a fur coat and a fur cap, is laid in a hole outside the village and there burned, and that while it is blazing every one seeks to snatch a fragment of it, which he fastens to a branch of the highest tree in his garden or buries in his field, believing that this will make the crops to grow better. the ceremony is known as the "burying of death."[ ] even when the straw-man is not designated as death, the meaning of the observance is probably the same; for the name death, as i have tried to shew, does not express the original intention of the ceremony. at cobern in the eifel mountains the lads make up a straw-man on shrove tuesday. the effigy is formally tried and accused of having perpetrated all the thefts that have been committed in the neighbourhood throughout the year. being condemned to death, the straw-man is led through the village, shot, and burned upon a pyre. they dance round the blazing pile, and the last bride must leap over it.[ ] in oldenburg on the evening of shrove tuesday people used to make long bundles of straw, which they set on fire, and then ran about the fields waving them, shrieking, and singing wild songs. finally they burned a straw-man on the field.[ ] in the district of düsseldorf the straw-man burned on shrove tuesday was made of an unthreshed sheaf of corn.[ ] on the first monday after the spring equinox the urchins of zurich drag a straw-man on a little cart through the streets, while at the same time the girls carry about a may-tree. when vespers ring, the straw-man is burned.[ ] in the district of aachen on ash wednesday a man used to be encased in peas-straw and taken to an appointed place. here he slipped quietly out of his straw casing, which was then burned, the children thinking that it was the man who was being burned.[ ] in the val di ledro (tyrol) on the last day of the carnival a figure is made up of straw and brushwood and then burned. the figure is called the old woman, and the ceremony "burning the old woman."[ ] § . _the easter fires_ [fire-festivals on easter eve. custom in catholic countries of kindling a holy new fire at the church on easter saturday; marvellous properties ascribed to the embers of the fire; the burning of judas.] another occasion on which these fire-festivals are held is easter eve, the saturday before easter sunday. on that day it has been customary in catholic countries to extinguish all the lights in the churches, and then to make a new fire, sometimes with flint and steel, sometimes with a burning-glass. at this fire is lit the great paschal or easter candle, which is then used to rekindle all the extinguished lights in the church. in many parts of germany a bonfire is also kindled, by means of the new fire, on some open space near the church. it is consecrated, and the people bring sticks of oak, walnut, and beech, which they char in the fire, and then take home with them. some of these charred sticks are thereupon burned at home in a newly-kindled fire, with a prayer that god will preserve the homestead from fire, lightning, and hail. thus every house receives "new fire." some of the sticks are kept throughout the year and laid on the hearth-fire during heavy thunder-storms to prevent the house from being struck by lightning, or they are inserted in the roof with the like intention. others are placed in the fields, gardens, and meadows, with a prayer that god will keep them from blight and hail. such fields and gardens are thought to thrive more than others; the corn and the plants that grow in them are not beaten down by hail, nor devoured by mice, vermin, and beetles; no witch harms them, and the ears of corn stand close and full. the charred sticks are also applied to the plough. the ashes of the easter bonfire, together with the ashes of the consecrated palm-branches, are mixed with the seed at sowing. a wooden figure called judas is sometimes burned in the consecrated bonfire, and even where this custom has been abolished the bonfire itself in some places goes by the name of "the burning of judas."[ ] [easter fires in bavaria and the abruzzi.] in the hollertau, bavaria, the young men used to light their lanterns at the newly-kindled easter candle in the church and then race to the bonfire; he who reached it first set fire to the pile, and next day, easter sunday, was rewarded at the church-door by the housewives, who presented him with red eggs. great was the jubilation while the effigy of the traitor was being consumed in the flames. the ashes were carefully collected and thrown away at sunrise in running water.[ ] in many parts of the abruzzi, also, pious people kindle their fires on easter saturday with a brand brought from the sacred new fire in the church. when the brand has thus served to bless the fire on the domestic hearth, it is extinguished, and the remainder is preserved, partly in a cranny of the outer wall of the house, partly on a tree to which it is tied. this is done for the purpose of guarding the homestead against injury by storms. at campo di giove the people say that if you can get a piece of one of the three holy candles which the priest lights from the new fire, you should allow a few drops of the wax to fall into the crown of your hat; for after that, if it should thunder and lighten, you have nothing to do but to clap the hat on your head, and no flash of lightning can possibly strike you.[ ] [water as well as fire consecrated in the abruzzi on easter saturday; water consecrated in calabria on easter saturday; water and fire consecrated on easter saturday among the germans of bohemia; easter rites of fire and water at hildesheim.] further, it deserves to be noted that in the abruzzi water as well as fire is, as it were, renewed and consecrated on easter saturday. most people fetch holy water on that day from the churches, and every member of the family drinks a little of it, believing that it has power to protect him or her against witchcraft, fever, and stomach-aches of all sorts. and when the church bells ring again after their enforced silence, the water is sprinkled about the house, and especially under the beds, with the help of a palm-branch. some of this blessed water is also kept in the house for use in great emergencies, when there is no time to fetch a priest; thus it may be employed to baptize a newborn infant gasping for life or to sprinkle a sick man in the last agony; such a sprinkling is reckoned equal to priestly absolution.[ ] in calabria the customs with regard to the new water, as it is called, on easter saturday are similar; it is poured into a new vessel, adorned with ribbons and flowers, is blessed by the priest, and is tasted by every one of the household, beginning with the parents. and when the air vibrates with the glad music of the church bells announcing the resurrection, the people sprinkle the holy water about the houses, bidding in a loud voice all evil things to go forth and all good things to come in. at the same time, to emphasize the exorcism, they knock on doors, window-shutters, chests, and other domestic articles of furniture. at cetraro people who suffer from diseases of the skin bathe in the sea at this propitious moment; at pietro in guarano they plunge into the river on the night of easter saturday before easter sunday dawns, and while they bathe they utter never a word. moreover, the calabrians keep the "new water" as a sacred thing. they believe that it serves as a protection against witchcraft if it is sprinkled on a fire or a lamp, when the wood crackles or the wick sputters; for they regard it as a bad omen when the fire talks, as they say.[ ] among the germans of western bohemia, also, water as well as fire is consecrated by the priest in front of the church on easter saturday. people bring jugs full of water to the church and set them beside the holy fire; afterwards they use the water to sprinkle on the palm-branches which are stuck in the fields. charred sticks of the judas fire, as it is popularly called, are supposed to possess a magical and healing virtue; hence the people take them home with them, and even scuffle with each other for the still glowing embers in order to carry them, still glimmering, to their houses and so obtain "the light" or "the holy light."[ ] at hildesheim, also, and the neighbouring villages of central germany rites both of fire and water are or were till lately observed at easter. thus on easter night many people fetch water from the innerste river and keep it carefully, believing it to be a remedy for many sorts of ailments both of man and beast. in the villages on the leine river servant men and maids used to go silently on easter night between the hours of eleven and twelve and silently draw water in buckets from the river; they mixed the water with the fodder and the drink of the cattle to make the animals thrive, and they imagined that to wash in it was good for human beings. many were also of opinion that at the same mystic hour the water turned to wine as far as the crowing of a cock could be heard, and in this belief they laid themselves flat on their stomachs and kept their tongues in the water till the miraculous change occurred, when they took a great gulp of the transformed water. at hildesheim, too, and the neighbouring villages fires used to blaze on all the heights on easter eve; and embers taken from the bonfires were dipped in the cattle troughs to benefit the beasts and were kept in the houses to avert lightning.[ ] [new fire at easter in carinthia; consecration of fire and water by the catholic church at easter.] in the lesachthal, carinthia, all the fires in the houses used to be extinguished on easter saturday, and rekindled with a fresh fire brought from the churchyard, where the priest had lit it by the friction of flint and steel and had bestowed his blessing on it.[ ] such customs were probably widespread. in a latin poem of the sixteenth century, written by a certain thomas kirchmeyer and translated into english by barnabe googe, we read:-- "_on easter eve the fire all is quencht in every place, and fresh againe from out the flint is fetcht with solemne grace: the priest doth halow this against great daungers many one, a brande whereof doth every man with greedie mind take home, that when the fearefull storme appeares, or tempest black arise, by lighting this he safe may be from stroke of hurtful skies: a taper great, the paschall namde, with musicke then they blesse, and franckensence herein they pricke, for greater holynesse: this burneth night and day as signe of christ that conquerde hell, as if so be this foolish toye suffiseth this to tell. then doth the bishop or the priest, the water halow straight, that for their baptisme is reservde: for now no more of waight is that they usde the yeare before, nor can they any more, yong children christen with the same, as they have done before. with wondrous pompe and furniture, amid the church they go, with candles, crosses, banners, chrisme, and oyle appoynted tho: nine times about the font they marche, and on the saintes doe call, then still at length they stande, and straight the priest begins withall, and thrise the water doth he touche, and crosses thereon make, here bigge and barbrous wordes he speakes, to make the devill quake: and holsome waters conjureth, and foolishly doth dresse, supposing holyar that to make, which god before did blesse: and after this his candle than, he thrusteth in the floode, and thrise he breathes thereon with breath, that stinkes of former foode: and making here an ende, his chrisme he poureth thereupon, the people staring hereat stande, amazed every one; beleeving that great powre is given to this water here, by gaping of these learned men, and such like trifling gere. therefore in vessels brought they draw, and home they carie some, against the grieves that to themselves, or to their beastes may come. then clappers ceasse, and belles are set againe at libertée, and herewithall the hungrie times of fasting ended bée."_[ ] it is said that formerly all the fires in rome were lighted afresh from the holy fire kindled in st. peter's on easter saturday.[ ] [the new fire on easter saturday at florence.] in florence the ceremony of kindling the new fire on easter eve is peculiar. the holy flame is elicited from certain flints which are said to have been brought by a member of the pazzi family from the holy land. they are kept in the church of the holy apostles on the piazza del limbo, and on the morning of easter saturday the prior strikes fire from them and lights a candle from the new flame. the burning candle is then carried in solemn procession by the clergy and members of the municipality to the high altar in the cathedral. a vast crowd has meanwhile assembled in the cathedral and the neighbouring square to witness the ceremony; amongst the spectators are many peasants drawn from the surrounding country, for it is commonly believed that on the success or failure of the ceremony depends the fate of the crops for the year. outside the door of the cathedral stands a festal car drawn by two fine white oxen with gilded horns. the body of the car is loaded with a pyramid of squibs and crackers and is connected by a wire with a pillar set up in front of the high altar. the wire extends down the middle of the nave at a height of about six feet from the ground. beneath it a clear passage is left, the spectators being ranged on either side and crowding the vast interior from wall to wall. when all is ready, high mass is celebrated, and precisely at noon, when the first words of the _gloria_ are being chanted, the sacred fire is applied to the pillar, which like the car is wreathed with fireworks. a moment more and a fiery dove comes flying down the nave, with a hissing sound and a sputter of sparks, between the two hedges of eager spectators. if all goes well, the bird pursues its course along the wire and out at the door, and in another moment a prolonged series of fizzes, pops and bangs announces to the excited crowd in the cathedral that the fireworks on the car are going off. great is the joy accordingly, especially among the bumpkins, who are now sure of an abundant harvest. but if, as sometimes happens, the dove stops short in its career and fizzles out, revealing itself as a stuffed bird with a packet of squibs tied to its tail, great is the consternation, and deep the curses that issue from between the set teeth of the clodhoppers, who now give up the harvest for lost. formerly the unskilful mechanician who was responsible for the failure would have been clapped into gaol; but nowadays he is thought sufficiently punished by the storm of public indignation and the loss of his pay. the disaster is announced by placards posted about the streets in the evening; and next morning the newspapers are full of gloomy prognostications.[ ] [the new fire and burning of judas on easter saturday in mexico.] some of these customs have been transported by the catholic church to the new world. thus in mexico the new fire is struck from a flint early in the morning of easter saturday, and a candle which has been lighted at the sacred flame is carried through the church by a deacon shouting "_lumen christi_." meantime the whole city, we are informed, has been converted into a vast place of execution. ropes stretch across the streets from house to house, and from every house dangles an effigy of judas, made of paper pulp. scores or hundreds of them may adorn a single street. they are of all shapes and sizes, grotesque in form and garbed in strange attire, stuffed with gunpowder, squibs and crackers, sometimes, too, with meat, bread, soap, candy, and clothing, for which the crowd will scramble and scuffle while the effigies are burning. there they hang grim, black, and sullen in the strong sunshine, greeted with a roar of execration by the pious mob. a peal of bells from the cathedral tower on the stroke of noon gives the signal for the execution. at the sound a frenzy seizes the crowd. they throw themselves furiously on the figures of the detested traitor, cut them down, hurl them with curses into the fire, and fight and struggle with each other in their efforts to tear the effigies to tatters and appropriate their contents. smoke, stink, sputter of crackers, oaths, curses, yells are now the order of the day. but the traitor does not perish unavenged. for the anatomy of his frame has been cunningly contrived so as in burning to discharge volleys of squibs into his assailants; and the wounds and burns with which their piety is rewarded form a feature of the morning's entertainment. the english jockey club in mexico used to improve on this popular pastime by suspending huge figures of judas, stuffed with copper coins, from ropes in front of their clubhouse. these were ignited at the proper moment and lowered within reach of the expectant rabble, and it was the privilege of members of the club, seated in the balcony, to watch the grimaces and to hear the shrieks of the victims, as they stamped and capered about with the hot coppers sticking to their hands, divided in their minds between an acute sense of pain and a thirst for filthy lucre.[ ] [the burning of judas at easter in south america.] scenes of the same sort, though on a less ambitious scale, are witnessed among the catholics of south america on the same day. in brazil the mourning for the death of christ ceases at noon on easter saturday and gives place to an extravagant burst of joy at his resurrection. shots are fired everywhere, and effigies of judas are hung on trees or dragged about the streets, to be finally burned or otherwise destroyed.[ ] in the indian villages scattered among the wild valleys of the peruvian andes figures of the traitor, made of pasteboard and stuffed with squibs and crackers, are hanged on gibbets before the door of the church on easter saturday. fire is set to them, and while they crackle and explode, the indians dance and shout for joy at the destruction of their hated enemy.[ ] similarly at rio hacha, in colombia, judas is represented during holy week by life-sized effigies, and the people fire at them as if they were discharging a sacred duty.[ ] [the new fire on easter saturday in the church of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem.] but usages of this sort are not confined to the latin church; they are common to the greek church also. every year on the saturday before easter sunday a new fire is miraculously kindled at the holy sepulchre in jerusalem. it descends from heaven and ignites the candles which the patriarch holds in his hands, while with closed eyes he wrestles in prayer all alone in the chapel of the angel. the worshippers meanwhile wait anxiously in the body of the church, and great are their transports of joy when at one of the windows of the chapel, which had been all dark a minute before, there suddenly appears the hand of an angel, or of the patriarch, holding a lighted taper. this is the sacred new fire; it is passed out to the expectant believers, and the desperate struggle which ensues among them to get a share of its blessed influence is only terminated by the intervention of the turkish soldiery, who restore peace and order by hustling the whole multitude impartially out of the church. in days gone by many lives were often lost in these holy scrimmages. for example, in the year , the famous ibrahim pasha witnessed the frantic scene from one of the galleries, and, being moved with compassion at the sight, descended with a few guards into the arena in the chimerical hope of restoring peace and order among the contending christians. he contrived to force his way into the midst of the dense crowd, but there the heat and pressure were so great that he fainted away; a body of soldiers, seeing his danger, charged straight into the throng and carried him out of it in their arms, trampling under foot the dying and dead in their passage. nearly two hundred people were killed that day in the church. the fortunate survivors on these occasions who succeeded in obtaining a portion of the coveted fire applied it freely to their faces, their beards, and their garments. the theory was that the fire, being miraculous, could only bless and not burn them; but the practical results of the experiment were often disappointing, for while the blessings were more or less dubious, there could be no doubt whatever about the burns.[ ] the history of the miracle has been carefully investigated by a jesuit father. the conclusions at which he arrives are that the miracle was a miracle indeed so long as the catholics had the management of it; but that since it fell into the hands of the heretics it has been nothing but a barefaced trick and imposture.[ ] many people will be disposed to agree with the latter conclusion who might hesitate to accept the former. [the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in greece.] at athens the new fire is kindled in the cathedral at midnight on holy saturday. a dense crowd with unlit candles in their hands fills the square in front of the cathedral; the king, the archbishop, and the highest dignitaries of the church, arrayed in their gorgeous robes, occupy a platform; and at the exact moment of the resurrection the bells ring out, and the whole square bursts as by magic into a blaze of light. theoretically all the candles are lit from the sacred new fire in the cathedral, but practically it may be suspected that the matches which bear the name of lucifer have some share in the sudden illumination.[ ] effigies of judas used to be burned at athens on easter saturday, but the custom has been forbidden by the government. however, firing goes on more or less continuously all over the city both on easter saturday and easter sunday, and the cartridges used on this occasion are not always blank. the shots are aimed at judas, but sometimes they miss him and hit other people. outside of athens the practice of burning judas in effigy still survives in some places. for example, in cos a straw image of the traitor is made on easter day, and after being hung up and shot at it is burned.[ ] a similar custom appears to prevail at thebes;[ ] it used to be observed by the macedonian peasantry, and it is still kept up at therapia, a fashionable summer resort of constantinople.[ ] [the new fire at candlemas in armenia.] in the armenian church the sacred new fire is kindled not at easter but at candlemas, that is, on the second of february, or on the eve of that festival. the materials of the bonfire are piled in an open space near a church, and they are generally ignited by young couples who have been married within the year. however, it is the bishop or his vicar who lights the candles with which fire is set to the pile. all young married pairs are expected to range themselves about the fire and to dance round it. young men leap over the flames, but girls and women content themselves with going round them, while they pray to be preserved from the itch and other skin-diseases. when the ceremony is over, the people eagerly pick up charred sticks or ashes of the fire and preserve them or scatter them on the four corners of the roof, in the cattle-stall, in the garden, and on the pastures; for these holy sticks and ashes protect men and cattle against disease, and fruit-trees against worms and caterpillars. omens, too, are drawn from the direction in which the wind blows the flames and the smoke: if it carries them eastward, there is hope of a good harvest; but if it inclines them westward, the people fear that the crops will fail.[ ] [the new fire and the burning of judas at easter are probably relics of paganism.] in spite of the thin cloak of christianity thrown over these customs by representing the new fire as an emblem of christ and the figure burned in it as an effigy of judas, we can hardly doubt that both practices are of pagan origin. neither of them has the authority of christ or of his disciples; but both of them have abundant analogies in popular custom and superstition. some instances of the practice of annually extinguishing fires and relighting them from a new and sacred flame have already come before us;[ ] but a few examples may here be cited for the sake of illustrating the wide diffusion of a custom which has found its way into the ritual both of the eastern and of the western church. [the new fire at the summer solstice among the incas of peru; the new fire among the indians of mexico and new mexico; the new fire among the esquimaux.] the incas of peru celebrated a festival called raymi, a word which their native historian garcilasso de la vega tells us was equivalent to our easter. it was held in honour of the sun at the solstice in june. for three days before the festival the people fasted, men did not sleep with their wives, and no fires were lighted in cuzco, the capital. the sacred new fire was obtained direct from the sun by concentrating his beams on a highly polished concave plate and reflecting them on a little cotton wool. with this holy fire the sheep and lambs offered to the sun were consumed, and the flesh of such as were to be eaten at the festival was roasted. portions of the new fire were also conveyed to the temple of the sun and to the convent of the sacred virgins, where they were kept burning all the year, and it was an ill omen if the holy flame went out.[ ] at a festival held in the last month of the old mexican year all the fires both in the temples and in the houses were extinguished, and the priest kindled a new fire by rubbing two sticks against each other before the image of the fire-god.[ ] the zuni indians of new mexico kindle a new fire by the friction of wood both at the winter and the summer solstice. at the winter solstice the chosen fire-maker collects a faggot of cedar-wood from every house in the village, and each person, as he hands the wood to the fire-maker, prays that the crops may be good in the coming year. for several days before the new fire is kindled, no ashes or sweepings may be removed from the houses and no artificial light may appear outside of them, not even a burning cigarette or the flash of firearms. the indians believe that no rain will fall on the fields of the man outside whose house a light has been seen at this season. the signal for kindling the new fire is given by the rising of the morning star. the flame is produced by twirling an upright stick between the hands on a horizontal stick laid on the floor of a sacred chamber, the sparks being caught by a tinder of cedar-dust. it is forbidden to blow up the smouldering tinder with the breath, for that would offend the gods. after the fire has thus been ceremonially kindled, the women and girls of all the families in the village clean out their houses. they carry the sweepings and ashes in baskets or bowls to the fields and leave them there. to the sweepings the woman says: "i now deposit you as sweepings, but in one year you will return to me as corn." and to the ashes she says: "i now deposit you as ashes, but in one year you will return to me as meal." at the summer solstice the sacred fire which has been procured by the friction of wood is used to kindle the grass and trees, that there may be a great cloud of smoke, while bull-roarers are swung and prayers offered that the rain-makers up aloft will water the earth.[ ] from this account we see how intimately the kindling of a new fire at the two turning-points of the sun's course is associated in the minds of these indians with the fertility of the land, particularly with the growth of the corn. the rolling smoke is apparently an imitation of rain-clouds designed, on the principle of homoeopathic magic, to draw showers from the blue sky. once a year the iroquois priesthood supplied the people with a new fire. as a preparation for the annual rite the fires in all the huts were extinguished and the ashes scattered about. then the priest, wearing the insignia of his office, went from hut to hut relighting the fires by means of a flint.[ ] among the esquimaux with whom c.f. hall resided, it was the custom that at a certain time, which answered to our new year's day, two men went about from house to house blowing out every light in the village. one of the men was dressed to represent a woman. afterwards the lights were rekindled from a fresh fire. an esquimau woman being asked what all this meant, replied, "new sun--new light."[ ] among the esquimaux of iglulik, when the sun first rises above the horizon after the long night of the arctic winter, the children who have watched for his reappearance run into the houses and blow out the lamps. then they receive from their mothers presents of pieces of wick.[ ] [the new fire in wadai, among the swahili, and in other parts of africa.] in the sudanese kingdom of wadai all the fires in the villages are put out and the ashes removed from the houses on the day which precedes the new year festival. at the beginning of the new year a new fire is lit by the friction of wood in the great straw hut where the village elders lounge away the sultry hours together; and every man takes thence a burning brand with which he rekindles the fire on his domestic hearth.[ ] in the bahr-el-ghazal province of the egyptian sudan the people extinguish their old fires at the arab new year and bring in new fire. on the same occasion they beat the walls of their huts, the grass thatches, and the walls of their enclosures in order to drive away the devil or evil spirits. the beating of the walls and roofs is accompanied by the firing of guns, the shouting of men, and the shriller cries of the women.[ ] thus these people combine an annual expulsion of demons with an annual lighting of a new fire. among the swahili of east africa the greatest festival is that of the new year, which falls in the second half of august. at a given moment all the fires are extinguished with water and afterwards relit by the friction of two dry pieces of wood. the ashes of the old fires are carried out and deposited at cross-roads. all the people get up very early in the morning and bathe in the sea or some other water, praying to be kept in good health and to live that they may bathe again next year. sham-fights form part of the amusements of the day; sometimes they pass into grim reality. indeed the day was formerly one of general license; every man did that which was good in his own eyes. no awkward questions were asked about any crimes committed on this occasion, so some people improved the shining hour by knocking a few poor devils on the head. shooting still goes on during the whole day, and at night the proceedings generally wind up with a great dance.[ ] the king of benametapa, as the early portuguese traders called him, in east africa used to send commissioners annually to every town in his dominions; on the arrival of one of these officers the inhabitants of each town had to put out all their fires and to receive a new fire from him. failure to comply with this custom was treated as rebellion.[ ] some tribes of british central africa carefully extinguish the fires on the hearths at the beginning of the hoeing season and at harvest; the fires are afterwards rekindled by friction, and the people indulge in dances of various kinds.[ ] [the new fire among the todas of southern india and among the nagas of north-eastern india.] the todas of the neilgheny hills, in southern india, annually kindle a sacred new fire by the friction of wood in the month which begins with the october moon. the ceremony is performed by two holy dairymen at the foot of a high hill. when they have lighted the fire by rubbing two dry sticks together, and it begins to burn well, they stand a little way off and pray, saying, "may the young grass flower! may honey flourish! may fruit ripen!" the purpose of the ceremony is to make the grass and honey plentiful. in ancient times the todas lived largely on wild fruits, and then the rite of the new fire was very important. now that they subsist chiefly on the milk of their buffaloes, the ceremony has lost much of its old significance.[ ] when the nagas of north-eastern india have felled the timber and cut down the scrub in those patches of jungle which they propose to cultivate, they put out all the fires in the village and light a new fire by rubbing two dry pieces of wood together. then having kindled torches at it they proceed with them to the jungle and ignite the felled timber and brushwood. the flesh of a cow or buffalo is also roasted on the new fire and furnishes a sacrificial meal.[ ] near the small town of kahma in burma, between prome and thayetmyo, certain gases escape from a hollow in the ground and burn with a steady flame during the dry season of the year. the people regard the flame as the forge of a spectral smith who here carried on his business after death had removed him from his old smithy in the village. once a year all the household fires in kahma are extinguished and then lighted afresh from the ghostly flame.[ ] [the new fire in china and japan.] in china every year, about the beginning of april, certain officials, called _sz'hüen_, used of old to go about the country armed with wooden clappers. their business was to summon the people and command them to put out every fire. this was the beginning of a season called _han-shih-tsieh_, or "eating cold food." for three days all household fires remained extinct as a preparation for the solemn renewal of the fire, which took place on the fifth or sixth day of april, being the hundred and fifth day after the winter solstice. the ceremony was performed with great pomp by the same officials, who procured the new fire from heaven by reflecting the sun's rays either from a metal mirror or from a crystal on dry moss. fire thus obtained is called by the chinese heavenly fire, and its use is enjoined in sacrifices; whereas fire elicited by the friction of wood is termed by them earthly fire, and its use is prescribed for cooking and other domestic purposes. when once the new fire had thus been drawn from the sun, all the people were free to rekindle their domestic hearths; and, as a chinese distich has it-- "_at the festival of the cold food there are a thousand white stalks among the flowers; on the day tsing-ming, at sunrise, you may see the smoke of ten thousand houses_." according to a chinese philosopher, the reason for thus renewing fire periodically is that the vital principle grows weaker and weaker in old fire, whereas in new fire it is young and vigorous. this annual renewal of fire was a ceremony of very great antiquity in china, since it is known to have been observed in the time of the first dynasty, about two thousand years before christ. under the tcheou dynasty a change in the calendar led to shifting the fire-festival from spring to the summer solstice, but afterwards it was brought back to its original date. although the custom appears to have long fallen into disuse, the barbarous inhabitants of hainan, an island to the south of china, still call a year "a fire," as if in memory of the time when the years were reckoned by the annually recurring ceremony of rekindling the sacred fire.[ ] "a japanese book written two centuries ago informs us that sticks resembling the wands used for offerings at the purification ceremony were part shaven and set up in bundles at the four corners of the gion shrine on the last day of the year. the priests, after prayers were recited, broke up the bundles and set fire to the sticks, which the people then carried home to light their household fires with for the new year. the object of this ceremony was to avert pestilence."[ ] [the new fire in ancient greece and rome.] in classical antiquity the greek island of lemnos was devoted to the worship of the smith-god hephaestus, who was said to have fallen on it when zeus hurled him from heaven.[ ] once a year every fire in the island was extinguished and remained extinct for nine days, during which sacrifices were offered to the dead and to the infernal powers. new fire was brought in a ship from the sacred isle of delos, and with it the fires in the houses and the workshops were relit. the people said that with the new fire they made a new beginning of life. if the ship that bore the sacred flame arrived too soon, it might not put in to shore, but had to cruise in the offing till the nine days were expired.[ ] at rome the sacred fire in the temple of vesta was kindled anew every year on the first of march, which used to be the beginning of the roman year;[ ] the task of lighting it was entrusted to the vestal virgins, and they performed it by drilling a hole in a board of lucky wood till the flame was elicited by friction. the new fire thus produced was carried into the temple of vesta by one of the virgins in a bronze sieve.[ ] [the new fire at hallow e'en among the old celts of ireland; the new fire on september st among the russian peasants.] among the celts of ireland a new fire was annually kindled on hallowe'en or the eve of samhain, as they called it, the last day of october, from which the irish new year began; and all the hearths throughout the country are said to have been relighted from the fresh fire. the place where this holy flame was lit bore the name of tlachtga or tlactga; it has been identified with a rath or native fort on the hill of ward near athboy in the county of meath. "it was there," says the old irish historian, geoffrey keating, "that the festival of the fire of tlactga was ordered to be held, and it was thither that the druids of ireland were wont to repair and to assemble, in solemn meeting, on the eve of samhain, for the purpose of making a sacrifice to all the gods. it was in that fire at tlactga, that their sacrifice was burnt; and it was made obligatory, under pain of punishment, to extinguish all the fires of ireland, on that eve; and the men of ireland were allowed to kindle no other fire but that one; and for each of the other fires, which were all to be lighted from it, the king of munster was to receive a tax of a _sgreball_, that is, of three pence, because the land, upon which tlactga was built, belongs to the portion of meath which had been taken from munster."[ ] in the villages near moscow at the present time the peasants put out all their fires on the eve of the first of september, and next morning at sunrise a wise man or a wise woman rekindles them with the help of muttered incantations and spells.[ ] [thus the ceremony of the new fire in the eastern and western church is probably a relic of an old heathen rite.] instances of such practices might doubtless be multiplied, but the foregoing examples may suffice to render it probable that the ecclesiastical ceremony of lighting a sacred new fire on easter saturday had originally nothing to do with christianity, but is merely one case of a world-wide custom which the church has seen fit to incorporate in its ritual. it might be supposed that in the western church the custom was merely a survival of the old roman usage of renewing the fire on the first of march, were it not that the observance by the eastern church of the custom on the same day seems to point back to a still older period when the ceremony of lighting a new fire in spring, perhaps at the vernal equinox, was common to many peoples of the mediterranean area. we may conjecture that wherever such a ceremony has been observed, it originally marked the beginning of a new year, as it did in ancient rome and ireland, and as it still does in the sudanese kingdom of wadai and among the swahili of eastern africa. [the pagan character of the easter fire appears from the superstitions associated with it, such as the belief that the fire fertilizes the fields and protects houses from conflagration and sickness.] the essentially pagan character of the easter fire festival appears plainly both from the mode in which it is celebrated by the peasants and from the superstitious beliefs which they associate with it. all over northern and central germany, from altmark and anhalt on the east, through brunswick, hanover, oldenburg, the harz district, and hesse to westphalia the easter bonfires still blaze simultaneously on the hill-tops. as many as forty may sometimes be counted within sight at once. long before easter the young people have been busy collecting firewood; every farmer contributes, and tar-barrels, petroleum cases, and so forth go to swell the pile. neighbouring villages vie with each other as to which shall send up the greatest blaze. the fires are always kindled, year after year, on the same hill, which accordingly often takes the name of easter mountain. it is a fine spectacle to watch from some eminence the bonfires flaring up one after another on the neighbouring heights. as far as their light reaches, so far, in the belief of the peasants, the fields will be fruitful, and the houses on which they shine will be safe from conflagration or sickness. at volkmarsen and other places in hesse the people used to observe which way the wind blew the flames, and then they sowed flax seed in that direction, confident that it would grow well. brands taken from the bonfires preserve houses from being struck by lightning; and the ashes increase the fertility of the fields, protect them from mice, and mixed with the drinking-water of cattle make the animals thrive and ensure them against plague. as the flames die down, young and old leap over them, and cattle are sometimes driven through the smouldering embers. in some places tar-barrels or wheels wrapt in straw used to be set on fire, and then sent rolling down the hillside. in others the boys light torches and wisps of straw at the bonfires and rush about brandishing them in their hands. where the people are divided between protestantism and catholicism, as in hildesheim, it has been observed that among protestants the easter bonfires are generally left to the boys, while in catholic districts they are cared for by grown-up persons, and here the whole population will gather round the blazing pile and join in singing choral hymns, which echo far and wide in the stillness of night.[ ] [the easter fires in münsterland, oldenburg, the harz mountains and the altmark.] in münsterland these easter fires are always kindled upon certain definite hills, which are hence known as easter or paschal mountains. the whole community assembles about the fire. fathers of families form an inner circle round it. an outer circle is composed of the young men and maidens, who, singing easter hymns, march round and round the fire in the direction of the sun, till the blaze dies down. then the girls jump over the fire in a line, one after the other, each supported by two young men who hold her hands and run beside her. when the fire has burned out, the whole assembly marches in solemn procession to the church, singing hymns. they go thrice round the church, and then break up. in the twilight boys with blazing bundles of straw run over the fields to make them fruitful.[ ] at delmenhorst, in oldenburg, it used to be the custom to cut down two trees, plant them in the ground side by side, and pile twelve tar-barrels, one above the other, against each of the trees. brushwood was then heaped about the trees, and on the evening of easter saturday the boys, after rushing about with blazing beanpoles in their hands, set fire to the whole. at the end of the ceremony the urchins tried to blacken each other and the clothes of grown-up people.[ ] in schaumburg the easter bonfires may be seen blazing on all the mountains around for miles. they are made with a tar-barrel fastened to a pine-tree, which is wrapt in straw. the people dance singing round them.[ ] in the harz mountains the fire is commonly made by piling brushwood about a tree and setting it on fire. at osterode every one tries to snatch a brand from the bonfire and runs about with it; the better it burns, the more lucky it is. in grund there are torch-races.[ ] in the altmark the easter bonfires are composed of tar-barrels, bee-hives, and so forth, piled round a pole. the young folk dance round the fire; and when it has died out, the old folk come and collect the ashes, which they preserve as a remedy for the ailments of bees. it is also believed that as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible, the corn will grow well throughout the year, and no conflagration will break out.[ ] at braunröde, in the harz mountains, it was the custom to burn squirrels in the easter bonfire.[ ] in the altmark, bones were burned in it.[ ] [the easter fires in bavaria; the burning of judas; burning the easter man.] further south the easter fires are, or used to be, lit in many districts of bavaria. thus on easter monday in some parts of middle franken the schoolboys collect all the old worn-out besoms they can lay hands on, and march with them in a long procession to a neighbouring height. when the first chime of the evening bell comes up from the dale they set fire to the brooms, and run along the ridges waving them, so that seen from below the hills appear to be crested with a twinkling and moving chain of fire.[ ] in some parts of upper bavaria at easter burning arrows or discs of wood were shot from hill-tops high into the air, as in the swabian and swiss customs already described.[ ] at oberau, instead of the discs, an old cart-wheel was sometimes wrapt in straw, ignited, and sent rolling and blazing down the mountain. the lads who hurled the discs received painted easter eggs from the girls.[ ] near forchheim, in upper franken, a straw-man called the judas used to be burned in the churchyards on easter saturday. the whole village contributed wood to the pyre on which he perished, and the charred sticks were afterwards kept and planted in the fields on walpurgis day (the first of may) to preserve the wheat from blight and mildew.[ ] about a hundred years ago or more the custom at althenneberg, in upper bavaria, used to be as follows. on the afternoon of easter saturday the lads collected wood, which they piled in a cornfield, while in the middle of the pile they set up a tall wooden cross all swathed in straw. after the evening service they lighted their lanterns at the consecrated candle in the church, and ran with them at full speed to the pyre, each striving to get there first. the first to arrive set fire to the heap. no woman or girl might come near the bonfire, but they were allowed to watch it from a distance. as the flames rose the men and lads rejoiced and made merry, shouting, "we are burning the judas!" two of them had to watch the glowing embers the whole night long, lest people should come and steal them. next morning at sunrise they carefully collected the ashes, and threw them into the running water of the röten brook. the man who had been the first to reach the pyre and to kindle it was rewarded on easter sunday by the women, who gave him coloured eggs at the church door. well-to-do women gave him two; poorer women gave him only one. the object of the whole ceremony was to keep off the hail. about a century ago the judas fire, as it was called, was put down by the police.[ ] at giggenhausen and aufkirchen, two other villages of upper bavaria, a similar custom prevailed, yet with some interesting differences. here the ceremony, which took place between nine and ten at night on easter saturday, was called "burning the easter man." on a height about a mile from the village the young fellows set up a tall cross enveloped in straw, so that it looked like a man with his arms stretched out. this was the easter man. no lad under eighteen years of age might take part in the ceremony. one of the young men stationed himself beside the easter man, holding in his hand a consecrated taper which he had brought from the church and lighted. the rest stood at equal intervals in a great circle round the cross. at a given signal they raced thrice round the circle, and then at a second signal ran straight at the cross and at the lad with the lighted taper beside it; the one who reached the goal first had the right of setting fire to the easter man. great was the jubilation while he was burning. when he had been consumed in the flames, three lads were chosen from among the rest, and each of the three drew a circle on the ground with a stick thrice round the ashes. then they all left the spot. on easter monday the villagers gathered the ashes and strewed them on their fields; also they planted in the fields palm-branches which had been consecrated on palm sunday, and sticks which had been charred and hallowed on good friday, all for the purpose of protecting their fields against showers of hail. the custom of burning an easter man made of straw on easter saturday was observed also at abensberg, in lower bavaria.[ ] in some parts of swabia the easter fires might not be kindled with iron or steel or flint, but only by the friction of wood.[ ] [the easter fires in baden; "thunder poles."] in baden bonfires are still kindled in the churchyards on easter saturday, and ecclesiastical refuse of various sorts, such as candle-ends, old surplices, and the wool used by the priest in the application of extreme unction, is consumed in the flames. at zoznegg down to about the fire was lighted by the priest by means of a flint which had never been used before. people bring sticks, especially oaken sticks, char them in the fire, and then carry them home and keep them in the house as a preservative against lightning. at zoznegg these oaken sticks were sword-shaped, each about an ell and a half long, and they went by the name of "weather or thunder poles" (_wetterpfähle_). when a thunderstorm threatened to break out, one of the sticks was put into a small fire, in order that the hallowed smoke, ascending to the clouds, might ward off the lightning from the house and the hail from the fields and gardens. at schöllbronn the oaken sticks, which are thus charred in the easter bonfire and kept in the house as a protective against thunder and lightning, are three in number, perhaps with an allusion to the trinity; they are brought every easter to be consecrated afresh in the bonfire, till they are quite burnt away. in the lake district of baden it is also customary to burn one of these holy sticks in the fire when a heavy thunderstorm is raging.[ ] hence it seems that the ancient association of the oak with the thunder[ ] persists in the minds of german peasants to the present day. [easter fires in holland and sweden; the burning of judas in bohemia.] thus the custom of the easter fires appears to have prevailed all over central and western germany from north to south. we find it also in holland, where the fires were kindled on the highest eminences, and the people danced round them and leaped through the flames or over the glowing embers. here too, as so often in germany, the materials for the bonfire were collected by the young folk from door to door.[ ] in many parts of sweden firearms are, as at athens, discharged in all directions on easter eve, and huge bonfires are lighted on hills and eminences. some people think that the intention is to keep off the troll and other evil spirits who are especially active at this season.[ ] when the afternoon service on good friday is over, german children in bohemia drive judas out of the church by running about the sacred edifice and even the streets shaking rattles and clappers. next day, on easter saturday, the remains of the holy oil are burnt before the church door in a fire which must be kindled with flint and steel. this fire is called "the burning of judas," but in spite of its evil name a beneficent virtue is ascribed to it, for the people scuffle for the cinders, which they put in the roofs of their houses as a safeguard against fire and lightning.[ ] § . _the beltane fires_ [the beltane fires on the first of may in the highlands of scotland; description of the beltane fires by john ramsay of ochtertyre in the eighteenth century.] in the central highlands of scotland bonfires, known as the beltane fires, were formerly kindled with great ceremony on the first of may, and the traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear and unequivocal. the custom of lighting the bonfires lasted in various places far into the eighteenth century, and the descriptions of the ceremony by writers of that period present such a curious and interesting picture of ancient heathendom surviving in our own country that i will reproduce them in the words of their authors. the fullest of the descriptions, so far as i know, is the one bequeathed to us by john ramsay, laird of ochtertyre, near crieff, the patron of burns and the friend of sir walter scott. from his voluminous manuscripts, written in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, a selection was published in the latter part of the nineteenth century. the following account of beltane is extracted from a chapter dealing with highland superstitions. ramsay says: "but the most considerable of the druidical festivals is that of beltane, or may-day, which was lately observed in some parts of the highlands with extraordinary ceremonies. of later years it is chiefly attended to by young people, persons advanced in years considering it as inconsistent with their gravity to give it any countenance. yet a number of circumstances relative to it may be collected from tradition, or the conversation of very old people, who witnessed this feast in their youth, when the ancient rites were better observed. [need-fire.] "this festival is called in gaelic _beal-tene_--i.e., the fire of bel.... like the other public worship of the druids, the beltane feast seems to have been performed on hills or eminences. they thought it degrading to him whose temple is the universe, to suppose that he would dwell in any house made with hands. their sacrifices were therefore offered in the open air, frequently upon the tops of hills, where they were presented with the grandest views of nature, and were nearest the seat of warmth and order. and, according to tradition, such was the manner of celebrating this festival in the highlands within the last hundred years. but since the decline of superstition, it has been celebrated by the people of each hamlet on some hill or rising ground around which their cattle were pasturing. thither the young folks repaired in the morning, and cut a trench, on the summit of which a seat of turf was formed for the company. and in the middle a pile of wood or other fuel was placed, which of old they kindled with _tein-eigin_-- i.e., forced-fire or _need-fire_. although, for many years past, they have been contented with common fire, yet we shall now describe the process, because it will hereafter appear that recourse is still had to the _tein-eigin_ upon extraordinary emergencies. [need-fire kindled by the friction of oak wood.] "the night before, all the fires in the country were carefully extinguished, and next morning the materials for exciting this sacred fire were prepared. the most primitive method seems to be that which was used in the islands of skye, mull, and tiree. a well-seasoned plank of oak was procured, in the midst of which a hole was bored. a wimble of the same timber was then applied, the end of which they fitted to the hole. but in some parts of the mainland the machinery was different. they used a frame of green wood, of a square form, in the centre of which was an axle-tree. in some places three times three persons, in others three times nine, were required for turning round by turns the axle-tree or wimble. if any of them had been guilty of murder, adultery, theft, or other atrocious crime, it was imagined either that the fire would not kindle, or that it would be devoid of its usual virtue. so soon as any sparks were emitted by means of the violent friction, they applied a species of agaric which grows on old birch-trees, and is very combustible. this fire had the appearance of being immediately derived from heaven, and manifold were the virtues ascribed to it. they esteemed it a preservative against witchcraft, and a sovereign remedy against malignant diseases, both in the human species and in cattle; and by it the strongest poisons were supposed to have their nature changed. [the beltane cake and the beltane carline (_cailleach_).] "after kindling the bonfire with the _tein-eigin_ the company prepared their victuals. and as soon as they had finished their meal, they amused themselves a while in singing and dancing round the fire. towards the close of the entertainment, the person who officiated as master of the feast produced a large cake baked with eggs and scalloped round the edge, called _am bonnach beal-tine--i.e._ the beltane cake. it was divided into a number of pieces, and distributed in great form to the company. there was one particular piece which whoever got was called _cailleach beal-tine--i.e._, the beltane _carline_, a term of great reproach. upon his being known, part of the company laid hold of him and made a show of putting him into the fire; but the majority interposing, he was rescued. and in some places they laid him flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him. afterwards, he was pelted with egg-shells, and retained the odious appellation during the whole year. and while the feast was fresh in people's memory, they affected to speak of the _cailleach beal-tine_ as dead. "this festival was longest observed in the interior highlands, for towards the west coast the traces of it are faintest. in glenorchy and lorne, a large cake is made on that day, which they consume in the house; and in mull it has a large hole in the middle, through which each of the cows in the fold is milked. in tiree it is of a triangular form. the more elderly people remember when this festival was celebrated without-doors with some solemnity in both these islands. there are at present no vestiges of it in skye or the long island, the inhabitants of which have substituted the _connach micheil_ or st. michael's cake. it is made at michaelmas with milk and oatmeal, and some eggs are sprinkled on its surface. part of it is sent to the neighbours. "it is probable that at the original beltane festival there were two fires kindled near one another. when any person is in a critical dilemma, pressed on each side by unsurmountable difficulties, the highlanders have a proverb, _the e' eada anda theine bealtuin_--i.e., he is between the two beltane fires. there are in several parts small round hills, which, it is like, owe their present names to such solemn uses. one of the highest and most central in icolmkil is called _cnoch-nan-ainneal_--i.e., the hill of the fires. there is another of the same name near the kirk of balquhidder; and at killin there is a round green eminence which seems to have been raised by art. it is called _tom-nan-ainneal_--i.e., the eminence of the fires. around it there are the remains of a circular wall about two feet high. on the top a stone stands upon end. according to the tradition of the inhabitants, it was a place of druidical worship; and it was afterwards pitched on as the most venerable spot for holding courts of justice for the country of breadalbane. the earth of this eminence is still thought to be possessed of some healing virtue, for when cattle are observed to be diseased some of it is sent for, which is rubbed on the part affected."[ ] [local differences in the beltane cakes; evidence of two fires at beltane; beltane pies and cakes in the parish of callander.] in the parish of callander, a beautiful district of western perthshire, the beltane custom was still in vogue towards the end of the eighteenth century. it has been described as follows by the parish minister of the time: "upon the first day of may, which is called _beltan_, or _bal-tein_ day, all the boys in a township or hamlet, meet in the moors. they cut a table in the green sod, of a round figure, by casting a trench in the ground, of such circumference as to hold the whole company. they kindle a fire, and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of a custard. they knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted at the embers against a stone. after the custard is eaten up, they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as possible to one another in size and shape, as there are persons in the company. they daub one of these portions all over with charcoal, until it be perfectly black. they put all the bits of the cake into a bonnet. every one, blindfold, draws out a portion. he who holds the bonnet, is entitled to the last bit. whoever draws the black bit, is the _devoted_ person who is to be sacrificed to _baal_[ ] whose favour they mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast. there is little doubt of these inhuman sacrifices having been once offered in this country, as well as in the east, although they now pass from the act of sacrificing, and only compel the _devoted_ person to leap three times through the flames; with which the ceremonies of this festival are closed."[ ] [pennant's description of the beltane fires and cakes in perthshire.] thomas pennant, who travelled in perthshire in the year , tells us that "on the first of may, the herdsmen of every village hold their bel-tien, a rural sacrifice. they cut a square trench on the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk; and bring besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. the rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation: on that every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them: each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulders, says, 'this i give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; and so on,' after that, they use the-same ceremony to the noxious animals: 'this i give to thee, o fox! spare thou my lambs; this to thee, o hooded crow! this to thee, o eagle!' when the ceremony is over, they dine on the caudle; and after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons deputed for that purpose; but on the next sunday they re-assemble, and finish the reliques of the first entertainment"[ ] [beltane cakes and fires in the parishes of logierait and kirkmichael; omens drawn from the cakes.] another writer of the eighteenth century has described the beltane festival as it was held in the parish of logierait in perthshire. he says: "on the first of may, o.s., a festival called _beltan_ is annually held here. it is chiefly celebrated by the cow-herds, who assemble by scores in the fields, to dress a dinner for themselves, of boiled milk and eggs. these dishes they eat with a sort of cakes baked for the occasion, and having small lumps in the form of _nipples_, raised all over the surface."[ ] in this last account no mention is made of bonfires, but they were probably lighted, for a contemporary writer informs us that in the parish of kirkmichael, which adjoins the parish of logierait on the east, the custom of lighting a fire in the fields and baking a consecrated cake on the first of may was not quite obsolete in his time.[ ] we may conjecture that the cake with knobs was formerly used for the purpose of determining who should be the "beltane carline" or victim doomed to the flames. a trace of this custom survived, perhaps, in the custom of baking oatmeal cakes of a special kind and rolling them down hill about noon on the first of may; for it was thought that the person whose cake broke as it rolled would die or be unfortunate within the year. these cakes, or bannocks as we call them in scotland, were baked in the usual way, but they were washed over with a thin batter composed of whipped egg, milk or cream, and a little oatmeal. this custom appears to have prevailed at or near kingussie in inverness-shire. at achterneed, near strathpeffer in ross-shire, the beltane bannocks were called _tcharnican_ or hand-cakes, because they were kneaded entirely in the hand, and not on a board or table like common cakes; and after being baked they might not be placed anywhere but in the hands of the children who were to eat them.[ ] [beltane fires in the north-east of scotland to burn the witches; the beltane cake.] in the north-east of scotland the beltane fires were still kindled in the latter half of the eighteenth century; the herdsmen of several farms used to gather dry wood, kindle it, and dance three times "southways" about the burning pile.[ ] but in this region, according to a later authority, the beltane fires were lit not on the first but on the second of may, old style. they were called bone-fires. the people believed that on that evening and night the witches were abroad and busy casting spells on cattle and stealing cows' milk. to counteract their machinations, pieces of rowan-tree and woodbine, but especially of rowan-tree, were placed over the doors of the cow-houses, and fires were kindled by every farmer and cottar. old thatch, straw, furze, or broom was piled in a heap and set on fire a little after sunset. while some of the bystanders kept tossing the blazing mass, others hoisted portions of it on pitchforks or poles and ran hither and thither, holding them as high as they could. meantime the young people danced round the fire or ran through the smoke shouting, "fire! blaze and burn the witches; fire! fire! burn the witches." in some districts a large round cake of oat or barley meal was rolled through the ashes. when all the fuel was consumed, the people scattered the ashes far and wide, and till the night grew quite dark they continued to run through them, crying, "fire! burn the witches."[ ] [beltane cakes and fires in the hebrides.] in the hebrides "the beltane bannock is smaller than that made at st. michael's, but is made in the same way; it is no longer made in uist, but father allan remembers seeing his grandmother make one about twenty-five years ago. there was also a cheese made, generally on the first of may, which was kept to the next beltane as a sort of charm against the bewitching of milk-produce. the beltane customs seem to have been the same as elsewhere. every fire was put out and a large one lit on the top of the hill, and the cattle driven round it sunwards (_dessil_), to keep off murrain all the year. each man would take home fire wherewith to kindle his own."[ ] [beltane fires and cakes in wales.] in wales also the custom of lighting beltane fires at the beginning of may used to be observed, but the day on which they were kindled varied from the eve of may day to the third of may. the flame was sometimes elicited by the friction of two pieces of oak, as appears from the following description. "the fire was done in this way. nine men would turn their pockets inside out, and see that every piece of money and all metals were off their persons. then the men went into the nearest woods, and collected sticks of nine different kinds of trees. these were carried to the spot where the fire had to be built. there a circle was cut in the sod, and the sticks were set crosswise. all around the circle the people stood and watched the proceedings. one of the men would then take two bits of oak, and rub them together until a flame was kindled. this was applied to the sticks, and soon a large fire was made. sometimes two fires were set up side by side. these fires, whether one or two, were called _coelcerth_ or bonfire. round cakes of oatmeal and brown meal were split in four, and placed in a small flour-bag, and everybody present had to pick out a portion. the last bit in the bag fell to the lot of the bag-holder. each person who chanced to pick up a piece of brown-meal cake was compelled to leap three times over the flames, or to run thrice between the two fires, by which means the people thought they were sure of a plentiful harvest. shouts and screams of those who had to face the ordeal could be heard ever so far, and those who chanced to pick the oatmeal portions sang and danced and clapped their hands in approval, as the holders of the brown bits leaped three times over the flames, or ran three times between the two fires. as a rule, no danger attended these curious celebrations, but occasionally somebody's clothes caught fire, which was quickly put out. the greatest fire of the year was the eve of may, or may first, second, or third. the midsummer eve fire was more for the harvest. very often a fire was built on the eve of november. the high ground near the castle ditches at llantwit major, in the vale of glamorgan, was a familiar spot for the beltane on may third and on midsummer eve.... sometimes the beltane fire was lighted by the flames produced by stone instead of wood friction. charred logs and faggots used in the may beltane were carefully preserved, and from them the next fire was lighted. may fires were always started with old faggots of the previous year, and midsummer from those of the last summer. it was unlucky to build a midsummer fire from may faggots. people carried the ashes left after these fires to their homes, and a charred brand was not only effectual against pestilence, but magical in its use. a few of the ashes placed in a person's shoes protected the wearer from any great sorrow or woe."[ ] [welsh belief that passage over or between the fires ensured good crops.] from the foregoing account we learn that bonfires were kindled in wales on midsummer eve and hallowe'en (the thirty-first of october), as well as at the beginning of may, but that the beltane fires in may were deemed the most important. to the midsummer eve and hallowe'en fires we shall return presently. the belief of the people that by leaping thrice over the bonfires or running thrice between them they ensured a plentiful harvest is worthy of note. the mode in which this result was supposed to be brought about is indicated by another writer on welsh folk-lore, according to whom it used to be held that "the bonfires lighted in may or midsummer protected the lands from sorcery, so that good crops would follow. the ashes were also considered valuable as charms."[ ] hence it appears that the heat of the fires was thought to fertilize the fields, not directly by quickening the seeds in the ground, but indirectly by counteracting the baleful influence of witchcraft or perhaps by burning up the persons of the witches. [beltane fires in the isle of man to burn the witches; beltane fires in nottinghamshire.] "the druidical anniversary of beil or baal is still celebrated in the isle of man. on the first of may, , the baal fires were, as usual on that day, so numerous as to give the island the appearance of a general conflagration."[ ] by may day in manx folk-lore is meant may day old style, or _shenn laa boaldyn_, as it is called in manx. the day was one on which the power of elves and witches was particularly dreaded, and the people resorted to many precautions in order to protect themselves against these mischievous beings. hence at daybreak they set fire to the ling or gorse, for the purpose of burning out the witches, who are wont to lurk in the form of hares.[ ] on the hemlock stone, a natural pillar of sandstone standing on stapleford hill in nottinghamshire, a fire used to be solemnly kindled every year on beltane eve. the custom seems to have survived down to the beginning of the nineteenth century; old people could remember and describe the ceremony long after it had fallen into desuetude.[ ] [beltane fires in ireland.] the beltane fires appear to have been kindled also in ireland, for cormac, "or somebody in his name, says that _belltaine_, may-day, was so called from the 'lucky fire,' or the 'two fires,' which the druids of erin used to make on that day with great incantations; and cattle, he adds, used to be brought to those fires, or to be driven between them, as a safeguard against the diseases of the year."[ ] again, a very ancient irish poem, enumerating the may day celebrations, mentions among them a bonfire on a hill (_tendal ar cnuc_); and another old authority says that these fires were kindled in the name of the idol-god bel.[ ] from an old life of st. patrick we learn that on a day in spring the heathen of ireland were wont to extinguish all their fires until a new fire was kindled with solemn ceremony in the king's house at tara. in the year in which st. patrick landed in ireland it chanced that the night of the extinguished fires coincided with the eve of easter; and the saint, ignorant of this pagan superstition, resolved to celebrate his first easter in ireland after the true christian fashion by lighting the holy paschal fire on the hill of slane, which rises high above the left bank of the boyne, about twelve miles from the mouth of the river. so that night, looking from his palace at tara across the darkened landscape, the king of tara saw the solitary fire flaring on the top of the hill of slane, and in consternation he asked his wise men what that light meant. they warned him of the danger that it betokened for the ancient faith of erin.[ ] in spite of the difference of date between easter and beltane, we may suspect that the new fire annually kindled with solemn ceremony about easter in the king of ireland's palace at tara was no other than the beltane fire. we have seen that in the highlands of scotland down to modern times it was customary to extinguish all fires in the neighbourhood before proceeding to kindle the sacred flame.[ ] the irish historian geoffrey keating, who wrote in the first part of the seventeenth century, tells us that the men of ireland held a great fair every year in the month of may at uisnech (_ushnagh_) in the county of meath, "and at it they were wont to exchange their goods and their wares and their jewels. at it, they were, also, wont to make a sacrifice to the arch-god that they adored, whose name was bèl (_bayl_). it was, likewise, their usage to light two fires to bèl, in every district of ireland, at this season, and to drive a pair of each kind of cattle that the district contained, between those two fires, as a preservative to guard them against all the diseases of that year. it is from that fire, thus made in honour of bèl, that the day [the first of may] on which the noble feast of the apostles, philip and james, is held, has been called bèltaini, or bèaltaine (_bayltinnie_); for beltaini is the same as bèil-teinè, i.e. teiné bhèil (_tinnie vayl_) or bèl's fire."[ ] the custom of driving cattle through or between fires on may day or the eve of may day persisted in ireland down to a time within living memory. thus sir john rhys was informed by a manxman that an irish cattle-dealer of his acquaintance used to drive his cattle through fire on may day so as to singe them a little, since he believed that it would preserve them from harm. when the manxman was asked where the dealer came from, he answered, "from the mountains over there," pointing to the mourne mountains then looming faintly in the mists on the western horizon.[ ] [fires on the eve of may day in sweden; fires on the eve of may day in austria and saxony for the purpose of burning the witches.] the first of may is a great popular festival in the more midland and southern parts of sweden. on the eve of the festival, huge bonfires, which should be lighted by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. every large hamlet has its own fire, round which the young people dance in a ring. the old folk notice whether the flames incline to the north or to the south. in the former case, the spring will be cold and backward; in the latter, it will be mild and genial.[ ] similarly, in bohemia, on the eve of may day, young people kindle fires on hills and eminences, at crossways, and in pastures, and dance round them. they leap over the glowing embers or even through the flames. the ceremony is called "burning the witches." in some places an effigy representing a witch used to be burnt in the bonfire.[ ] we have to remember that the eve of may day is the notorious walpurgis night, when the witches are everywhere speeding unseen through the air on their hellish errands. on this witching night children in voigtland also light bonfires on the heights and leap over them. moreover, they wave burning brooms or toss them into the air. so far as the light of the bonfire reaches, so far will a blessing rest on the fields. the kindling of the fires on walpurgis night is called "driving away the witches."[ ] the custom of kindling fires on the eve of may day (walpurgis night) for the purpose of burning the witches is, or used to be, widespread in the tyrol, moravia, saxony and silesia.[ ] § . _the midsummer fires_ [the great season for fire-festivals in europe is the summer solstice, midsummer eve or midsummer day, which the church has dedicated to st. john the baptist; the bonfires, the torches, and the burning wheels of the festival.] but the season at which these fire-festivals have been mostly generally held all over europe is the summer solstice, that is midsummer eve (the twenty-third of june) or midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june). a faint tinge of christianity has been given to them by naming midsummer day after st. john the baptist, but we cannot doubt that the celebration dates from a time long before the beginning of our era. the summer solstice, or midsummer day, is the great turning-point in the sun's career, when, after climbing higher and higher day by day in the sky, the luminary stops and thenceforth retraces his steps down the heavenly road. such a moment could not but be regarded with anxiety by primitive man so soon as he began to observe and ponder the courses of the great lights across the celestial vault; and having still to learn his own powerlessness in face of the vast cyclic changes of nature, he may have fancied that he could help the sun in his seeming decline--could prop his failing steps and rekindle the sinking flame of the red lamp in his feeble hand. in some such thoughts as these the midsummer festivals of our european peasantry may perhaps have taken their rise. whatever their origin, they have prevailed all over this quarter of the globe, from ireland on the west to russia on the east, and from norway and sweden on the north to spain and greece on the south.[ ] according to a mediæval writer, the three great features of the midsummer celebration were the bonfires, the procession with torches round the fields, and the custom of rolling a wheel. he tells us that boys burned bones and filth of various kinds to make a foul smoke, and that the smoke drove away certain noxious dragons which at this time, excited by the summer heat, copulated in the air and poisoned the wells and rivers by dropping their seed into them; and he explains the custom of trundling a wheel to mean that the sun, having now reached the highest point in the ecliptic, begins thenceforward to descend.[ ] [t. kirchmeyer's description of the midsummer festival.] a good general account of the midsummer customs, together with some of the reasons popularly alleged for observing them, is given by thomas kirchmeyer, a writer of the sixteenth century, in his poem _the popish kingdome_:-- "_then doth the joyfull feast of john the baptist take his turne, when bonfiers great with loftie flame, in every towne doe burne; and yong men round about with maides, doe daunce in every streete, with garlands wrought of motherwort, or else with vervain sweete, and many other flowres faire, with violets in their handes, whereas they all do fondly thinke, that whosoever standes, and thorow the flowres beholds the flame, his eyes shall feele no paine. when thus till night they daunced have, they through the fire amaine with striving mindes doe runne, and all their hearbes they cast therin, and then with wordes devout and prayers, they solemnely begin, desiring god that all their illes may there consumed bee, whereby they thinke through all that yeare from agues to be free. some others get a rotten wheele, all worne and cast aside, which covered round about with strawe, and tow, they closely hide: and caryed to some mountaines top, being all with fire light, they hurle it downe with violence, when darke appeares the night: resembling much the sunne, that from the heavens downe should fal, a straunge and monstrous sight it seemes, and fearfull to them all; but they suppose their mischiefes all are likewise throwne to hell, and that from harmes and daungers now, in safetie here they dwell_."[ ] from these general descriptions, which to some extent still hold good, or did so till lately, we see that the main features of the midsummer fire-festival resemble those which we have found to characterize the vernal festivals of fire. the similarity of the two sets of ceremonies will plainly appear from the following examples. [the midsummer fires in germany; the celebration at konz on the moselle: the rolling of a burning wheel down hill.] a writer of the first half of the sixteenth century informs us that in almost every village and town of germany public bonfires were kindled on the eve of st. john, and young and old, of both sexes, gathered about them and passed the time in dancing and singing. people on this occasion wore chaplets of mugwort and vervain, and they looked at the fire through bunches of larkspur which they held in their hands, believing that this would preserve their eyes in a healthy state throughout the year. as each departed, he threw the mugwort and vervain into the fire, saying, "may all my ill-luck depart and be burnt up with these."[ ] at lower konz, a village prettily situated on a hillside overlooking the moselle, in the midst of a wood of walnut-trees and fruit-trees, the midsummer festival used to be celebrated as follows. a quantity of straw was collected on the top of the steep stromberg hill. every inhabitant, or at least every householder, had to contribute his share of straw to the pile; a recusant was looked at askance, and if in the course of the year he happened to break a leg or lose a child, there was not a gossip in the village but knew the reason why. at nightfall the whole male population, men and boys, mustered on the top of the hill; the women and girls were not allowed to join them, but had to take up their position at a certain spring half-way down the slope. on the summit stood a huge wheel completely encased in some of the straw which had been jointly contributed by the villagers; the rest of the straw was made into torches. from each side of the wheel the axle-tree projected about three feet, thus furnishing handles to the lads who were to guide it in its descent. the mayor of the neighbouring town of sierck, who always received a basket of cherries for his services, gave the signal; a lighted torch was applied to the wheel, and as it burst into flame, two young fellows, strong-limbed and swift of foot, seized the handles and began running with it down the slope. a great shout went up. every man and boy waved a blazing torch in the air, and took care to keep it alight so long as the wheel was trundling down the hill. some of them followed the fiery wheel, and watched with amusement the shifts to which its guides were put in steering it round the hollows and over the broken ground on the mountainside. the great object of the young men who guided the wheel was to plunge it blazing into the water of the moselle; but they rarely succeeded in their efforts, for the vineyards which cover the greater part of the declivity impeded their progress, and the wheel was often burned out before it reached the river. as it rolled past the women and girls at the spring, they raised cries of joy which were answered by the men on the top of the mountain; and the shouts were echoed by the inhabitants of neighbouring villages who watched the spectacle from their hills on the opposite bank of the moselle. if the fiery wheel was successfully conveyed to the bank of the river and extinguished in the water, the people looked for an abundant vintage that year, and the inhabitants of konz had the right to exact a waggon-load of white wine from the surrounding vineyards. on the other hand, they believed that, if they neglected to perform the ceremony, the cattle would be attacked by giddiness and convulsions and would dance in their stalls.[ ] [the midsummer fires in bavaria; cattle driven through the fire; the new fire; omens of the harvest drawn from the fires; burning discs thrown into the air.] down at least to the middle of the nineteenth century the midsummer fires used to blaze all over upper bavaria. they were kindled especially on the mountains, but also far and wide in the lowlands, and we are told that in the darkness and stillness of night the moving groups, lit up by the flickering glow of the flames, presented an impressive spectacle. in some places the people shewed their sense of the sanctity of the fires by using for fuel the trees past which the gay procession had defiled, with fluttering banners, on corpus christi day. in others the children collected the firewood from door to door on the eve of the festival, singing their request for fuel at every house in doggerel verse. cattle were driven through the fire to cure the sick animals and to guard such as were sound against plague and harm of every kind throughout the year. many a householder on that day put out the fire on the domestic hearth and rekindled it by means of a brand taken from the midsummer bonfire. the people judged of the height to which the flax would grow in the year by the height to which the flames of the bonfire rose; and whoever leaped over the burning pile was sure not to suffer from backache in reaping the corn at harvest. but it was especially the practice for lovers to spring over the fire hand in hand, and the way in which each couple made the leap was the subject of many a jest and many a superstition. in one district the custom of kindling the bonfires was combined with that of lighting wooden discs and hurling them in the air after the manner which prevails at some of the spring festivals.[ ] in many parts of bavaria it was believed that the flax would grow as high as the young people leaped over the fire.[ ] in others the old folk used to plant three charred sticks from the bonfire in the fields, believing that this would make the flax grow tall.[ ] elsewhere an extinguished brand was put in the roof of the house to protect it against fire. in the towns about würzburg the bonfires used to be kindled in the market-places, and the young people who jumped over them wore garlands of flowers, especially of mugwort and vervain, and carried sprigs of larkspur in their hands. they thought that such as looked at the fire holding a bit of larkspur before their face would be troubled by no malady of the eyes throughout the year.[ ] further, it was customary at würzburg, in the sixteenth century, for the bishop's followers to throw burning discs of wood into the air from a mountain which overhangs the town. the discs were discharged by means of flexible rods, and in their flight through the darkness presented the appearance of fiery dragons.[ ] [the midsummer fires in swabia; omens drawn from the leaps over the fires; burning wheels rolled down hill; burning the angel-man at rottenburg.] in the valley of the lech, which divides upper bavaria from swabia, the midsummer customs and beliefs are, or used to be, very similar. bonfires are kindled on the mountains on midsummer day; and besides the bonfire a tall beam, thickly wrapt in straw and surmounted by a cross-piece, is burned in many places. round this cross as it burns the lads dance with loud shouts; and when the flames have subsided, the young people leap over the fire in pairs, a young man and a young woman together. if they escape unsmirched, the man will not suffer from fever, and the girl will not become a mother within the year. further, it is believed that the flax will grow that year as high as they leap over the fire; and that if a charred billet be taken from the fire and stuck in a flax-field it will promote the growth of the flax.[ ] similarly in swabia, lads and lasses, hand in hand, leap over the midsummer bonfire, praying that the hemp may grow three ells high, and they set fire to wheels of straw and send them rolling down the hill. among the places where burning wheels were thus bowled down hill at midsummer were the hohenstaufen mountains in wurtemberg and the frauenberg near gerhausen.[ ] at deffingen, in swabia, as the people sprang over the midsummer bonfire they cried out, "flax, flax! may the flax this year grow seven ells high!"[ ] at rottenburg in swabia, down to the year or , the festival was marked by some special features. about mid-day troops of boys went about the town begging for firewood at the houses. in each troop there were three leaders, one of whom carried a dagger, a second a paper banner, and a third a white plate covered with a white cloth. these three entered each house and recited verses, in which they expressed an intention of roasting martin luther and sending him to the devil; and for this meritorious service they expected to be paid, the contributions being received in the cloth-covered plate. in the evening they counted up their money and proceeded to "behead the angel-man." for this ceremony an open space was chosen, sometimes in the middle of the town. here a stake was thrust into the ground and straw wrapt about it, so as to make a rude effigy of human form with arms, head, and face. every boy brought a handful of nosegays and fastened them to the straw-man, who was thus enveloped in flowers. fuel was heaped about the stake and set on fire. when the angel-man, as the straw-effigy was called, blazed up, all the boys of the neighbourhood, who had gathered expectantly around, fell upon him with their wooden swords and hewed him to pieces. as soon as he had vanished in smoke and flame, the lads leaped backward and forward over the glowing embers, and later in the evening they feasted on the proceeds of their collection.[ ] here the angel-man burnt in the fire appears to be identified with martin luther, to whom, as we have seen, allusion was made during the house-to-house visitation. the identification was probably modern, for we may assume that the custom of burning an effigy in the midsummer bonfire is far older than the time of luther. [the midsummer fires in baden; omens drawn from leaps over the fires; burning discs thrown into the air; midsummer fires in alsace, lorraine, the eifel, the harz districts and thuringia; burning barrel swung round a pole.] in baden the children used to collect fuel from house to house for the midsummer bonfire on st. john's day; and lads and lasses leaped over the fire in couples. here, as elsewhere, a close connexion was traced between these bonfires and the harvest. in some places it was thought that those who leaped over the fires would not suffer from backache at reaping. sometimes, as the young folk sprang over the flames, they cried, "grow, that the hemp may be three ells high!" this notion that the hemp or the corn would grow as high as the flames blazed or as the people jumped over them, seems to have been widespread in baden. it was held that the parents of the young people who bounded highest over the fire would have the most abundant harvest; and on the other hand, if a man contributed nothing to the bonfire, it was imagined that there would be no blessing on his crops, and that his hemp in particular would never grow.[ ] in the neighbourhood of bühl and achern the st. john's fires were kindled on the tops of hills; only the unmarried lads of the village brought the fuel, and only the unmarried young men and women sprang through the flames. but most of the villagers, old and young, gathered round the bonfires, leaving a clear space for the leapers to take their run. one of the bystanders would call out the names of a pair of sweethearts; on which the two would step out from the throng, take each other by the hand, and leap high and lightly through the swirling smoke and flames, while the spectators watched them critically and drew omens of their married life from the height to which each of them bounded. such an invitation to jump together over the bonfire was regarded as tantamount to a public betrothal.[ ] near offenburg, in the black forest, on midsummer day the village boys used to collect faggots and straw on some steep and conspicuous height, and they spent some time in making circular wooden discs by slicing the trunk of a pine-tree across. when darkness had fallen, they kindled the bonfire, and then, as it blazed up, they lighted the discs at it, and, after swinging them to and fro at the end of a stout and supple hazel-wand, they hurled them one after the other, whizzing and flaming, into the air, where they described great arcs of fire, to fall at length, like shooting-stars, at the foot of the mountain.[ ] in many parts of alsace and lorraine the midsummer fires still blaze annually or did so not very many years ago.[ ] at speicher in the eifel, a district which lies on the middle rhine, to the west of coblentz, a bonfire used to be kindled in front of the village on st. john's day, and all the young people had to jump over it. those who failed to do so were not allowed to join the rest in begging for eggs from house to house. where no eggs were given, they drove a wedge into the keyhole of the door. on this day children in the eifel used also to gather flowers in the fields, weave them into garlands, and throw the garlands on the roofs or hang them on the doors of the houses. so long as the flowers remained there, they were supposed to guard the house from fire and lightning.[ ] in the southern harz district and in thuringia the midsummer or st. john's fires used to be commonly lighted down to about the middle of the nineteenth century, and the custom has probably not died out. at edersleben, near sangerhausen, a high pole was planted in the ground and a tar-barrel was hung from it by a chain which reached to the ground. the barrel was then set on fire and swung round the pole amid shouts of joy.[ ] [midsummer fires kindled by the friction of wood in germany and switzerland; driving away demons and witches.] according to one account, german tradition required that the midsummer fire should be lighted, not from a common hearth, but by the friction of two sorts of wood, namely oak and fir.[ ] in some old farm-houses of the surenthal and winenthal, in switzerland, a couple of holes or a whole row of them may be seen facing each other in the door-posts of the barn or stable. sometimes the holes are smooth and round; sometimes they are deeply burnt and blackened. the explanation of them is this. about midsummer, but especially on midsummer day, two such holes are bored opposite each other, into which the extremities of a strong pole are fixed. the holes are then stuffed with tow steeped in resin and oil; a rope is looped round the pole, and two young men, who must be brothers or must have the same baptismal name, and must be of the same age, pull the ends of the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the pole revolve rapidly, till smoke and sparks issue from the two holes in the door-posts. the sparks are caught and blown up with tinder, and this is the new and pure fire, the appearance of which is greeted with cries of joy. heaps of combustible materials are now ignited with the new fire, and blazing bundles are placed on boards and sent floating down the brook. the boys light torches at the new fire and run to fumigate the pastures. this is believed to drive away all the demons and witches that molest the cattle. finally the torches are thrown in a heap on the meadow and allowed to burn out. on their way back the boys strew the ashes over the fields, which is supposed to make them fertile. if a farmer has taken possession of a new house, or if servants have changed masters, the boys fumigate the new abode and are rewarded by the farmer with a supper.[ ] [midsummer fires in silesia; scaring away the witches.] in silesia, from the south-eastern part of the sudeten range and north-westward as far as lausitz, the mountains are ablaze with bonfires on midsummer eve; and from the valleys and the plains round about leobschütz, neustadt, zülz, oels, and other places answering fires twinkle through the deepening gloom. while they are smouldering and sending forth volumes of smoke across the fields, young men kindle broom-stumps, soaked in pitch, at the bonfires and then, brandishing the stumps, which emit showers of sparks, they chase one another or dance with the girls round the burning pile. shots, too, are fired, and shouts raised. the fire, the smoke, the shots, and the shouts are all intended to scare away the witches, who are let loose on this witching day, and who would certainly work harm to the crops and the cattle, if they were not deterred by these salutary measures. mere contact with the fire brings all sorts of blessings. hence when the bonfire is burning low, the lads leap over it, and the higher they bound, the better is the luck in store for them. he who surpasses his fellows is the hero of the day and is much admired by the village girls. it is also thought to be very good for the eyes to stare steadily at the bonfire without blinking; moreover he who does so will not drowse and fall asleep betimes in the long winter evenings. on midsummer eve the windows and doors of houses in silesia are crowned with flowers, especially with the blue cornflowers and the bright corn-cockles; in some villages long strings of garlands and nosegays are stretched across the streets. the people believe that on that night st. john comes down from heaven to bless the flowers and to keep all evil things from house and home.[ ] [the midsummer fires in denmark and norway; keeping off the witches; the midsummer fires in sweden.] in denmark and norway also midsummer fires were kindled on st. john's eve on roads, open spaces, and hills. people in norway thought that the fires banished sickness from among the cattle.[ ] even yet the fires are said to be lighted all over norway on the night of june the twenty-third, midsummer eve, old style. as many as fifty or sixty bonfires may often be counted burning on the hills round bergen. sometimes fuel is piled on rafts, ignited, and allowed to drift blazing across the fiords in the darkness of night. the fires are thought to be kindled in order to keep off the witches, who are said to be flying from all parts that night to the blocksberg, where the big witch lives.[ ] in sweden the eve of st. john (st. hans) is the most joyous night of the whole year. throughout some parts of the country, especially in the provinces of bohus and scania and in districts bordering on norway, it is celebrated by the frequent discharge of firearms and by huge bonfires, formerly called balder's balefires (_balder's balar_), which are kindled at dusk on hills and eminences and throw a glare of light over the surrounding landscape. the people dance round the fires and leap over or through them. in parts of norrland on st. john's eve the bonfires are lit at the cross-roads. the fuel consists of nine different sorts of wood, and the spectators cast into the flames a kind of toad-stool (_bäran_) in order to counteract the power of the trolls and other evil spirits, who are believed to be abroad that night; for at that mystic season the mountains open and from their cavernous depths the uncanny crew pours forth to dance and disport themselves for a time. the peasants believe that should any of the trolls be in the vicinity they will shew themselves; and if an animal, for example a he or she goat, happens to be seen near the blazing, crackling pile, the peasants are firmly persuaded that it is no other than the evil one in person.[ ] further, it deserves to be remarked that in sweden st. john's eve is a festival of water as well as of fire; for certain holy springs are then supposed to be endowed with wonderful medicinal virtues, and many sick people resort to them for the healing of their infirmities.[ ] [the midsummer fires in switzerland and austria; effigies burnt in the fires; burning wheels rolled down hill.] in switzerland on midsummer eve fires are, or used to be, kindled on high places in the cantons of bern, neuchatel, valais, and geneva.[ ] in austria the midsummer customs and superstitions resemble those of germany. thus in some parts of the tyrol bonfires are kindled and burning discs hurled into the air.[ ] in the lower valley of the inn a taterdemalian effigy is carted about the village on midsummer day and then burned. he is called the _lotter_, which has been corrupted into luther. at ambras, one of the villages where martin luther is thus burned in effigy, they say that if you go through the village between eleven and twelve on st. john's night and wash yourself in three wells, you will see all who are to die in the following year.[ ] at gratz on st. john's eve (the twenty-third of june) the common people used to make a puppet called the _tatermann_, which they dragged to the bleaching ground, and pelted with burning besoms till it took fire.[ ] at reutte, in the tyrol, people believed that the flax would grow as high as they leaped over the midsummer bonfire, and they took pieces of charred wood from the fire and stuck them in their flax-fields the same night, leaving them there till the flax harvest had been got in.[ ] in lower austria fires are lit in the fields, commonly in front of a cross, and the people dance and sing round them and throw flowers into the flames. before each handful of flowers is tossed into the fire, a set speech is made; then the dance is resumed and the dancers sing in chorus the last words of the speech. at evening bonfires are kindled on the heights, and the boys caper round them, brandishing lighted torches drenched in pitch. whoever jumps thrice across the fire will not suffer from fever within the year. cart-wheels are often smeared with pitch, ignited, and sent rolling and blazing down the hillsides.[ ] [midsummer fires in bohemia; wreaths thrown across the fire; uses made of the singed wreaths; burning wheels rolled down hill; embers of the fire stuck in fields, gardens, and houses as a talisman against lightning and conflagration; use of mugwort; cattle protected against witchcraft.] all over bohemia bonfires still burn on midsummer eve. in the afternoon boys go about with handcarts from house to house collecting fuel, such as sticks, brushwood, old besoms, and so forth. they make their request at each house in rhyming verses, threatening with evil consequences the curmudgeons who refuse them a dole. sometimes the young men fell a tall straight fir in the woods and set it up on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, wreaths of leaves, and red ribbons. then brushwood is piled about it, and at nightfall the whole is set on fire. while the flames break out, the young men climb the tree and fetch down the wreaths which the girls had placed on it. after that, lads and lasses stand on opposite sides of the fire and look at one another through the wreaths to see whether they will be true to each other and marry within the year. also the girls throw the wreaths across the flames to the men, and woe to the awkward swain who fails to catch the wreath thrown him by his sweetheart. when the blaze has died down, each couple takes hands, and leaps thrice across the fire. he or she who does so will be free from ague throughout the year, and the flax will grow as high as the young folks leap. a girl who sees nine bonfires on midsummer eve will marry before the year is out. the singed wreaths are carried home and carefully preserved throughout the year. during thunderstorms a bit of the wreath is burned on the hearth with a prayer; some of it is given to kine that are sick or calving, and some of it serves to fumigate house and cattle-stall, that man and beast may keep hale and well. sometimes an old cartwheel is smeared with resin, ignited, and sent rolling down the hill. often the boys collect all the worn-out besoms they can get hold of, dip them in pitch, and having set them on fire wave them about or throw them high into the air. or they rush down the hillside in troops, brandishing the flaming brooms and shouting, only however to return to the bonfire on the summit when the brooms have burnt out. the stumps of the brooms and embers from the fire are preserved and stuck in cabbage gardens to protect the cabbages from caterpillars and gnats. some people insert charred sticks and ashes from the bonfire in their sown fields and meadows, in their gardens and the roofs of their houses, as a talisman against lightning and foul weather; or they fancy that the ashes placed in the roof will prevent any fire from breaking out in the house. in some districts they crown or gird themselves with mugwort while the midsummer fire is burning, for this is supposed to be a protection against ghosts, witches, and sickness; in particular, a wreath of mugwort is a sure preventive of sore eyes. sometimes the girls look at the bonfires through garlands of wild flowers, praying the fire to strengthen their eyes and eyelids. she who does this thrice will have no sore eyes all that year. in some parts of bohemia they used to drive the cows through the midsummer fire to guard them against witchcraft.[ ] [the midsummer fires in moravia, austrian silesia, and the district of cracow; fire kindled by the friction of wood.] the germans of moravia in like manner still light bonfires on open grounds and high places on midsummer eve; and they kindle besoms in the flames and then stick the charred stumps in the cabbage-fields as a powerful protection against caterpillars. on the same mystic evening moravian girls gather flowers of nine sorts and lay them under their pillow when they go to sleep; then they dream every one of him who is to be her partner for life. for in moravia maidens in their beds as well as poets by haunted streams have their midsummer night's dreams.[ ] in austrian silesia the custom also prevails of lighting great bonfires on hilltops on midsummer eve, and here too the boys swing blazing besoms or hurl them high in the air, while they shout and leap and dance wildly. next morning every door is decked with flowers and birchen saplings.[ ] in the district of cracow, especially towards the carpathian mountains, great fires are kindled by the peasants in the fields or on the heights at nightfall on midsummer eve, which among them goes by the name of kupalo's night. the fire must be kindled by the friction of two sticks. the young people dance round or leap over it; and a band of sturdy fellows run a race with lighted torches, the winner being rewarded with a peacock's feather, which he keeps throughout the year as a distinction. cattle also are driven round the fire in the belief that this is a charm against pestilence and disease of every sort.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the slavs of russia; cattle protected against witchcraft; the fires lighted by the friction of wood.] the name of kupalo's night, applied in this part of galicia to midsummer eve, reminds us that we have now passed from german to slavonic ground; even in bohemia the midsummer celebration is common to slavs and germans. we have already seen that in russia the summer solstice or eve of st. john is celebrated by young men and maidens, who jump over a bonfire in couples carrying a straw effigy of kupalo in their arms.[ ] in some parts of russia an image of kupalo is burnt or thrown into a stream on st. john's night.[ ] again, in some districts of russia the young folk wear garlands of flowers and girdles of holy herbs when they spring through the smoke or flames; and sometimes they drive the cattle also through the fire in order to protect the animals against wizards and witches, who are then ravenous after milk.[ ] in little russia a stake is driven into the ground on st. john's night, wrapt in straw, and set on fire. as the flames rise the peasant women throw birchen boughs into them, saying, "may my flax be as tall as this bough!"[ ] in ruthenia the bonfires are lighted by a flame procured by the friction of wood. while the elders of the party are engaged in thus "churning" the fire, the rest maintain a respectful silence; but when the flame bursts from the wood, they break forth into joyous songs. as soon as the bonfires are kindled, the young people take hands and leap in pairs through the smoke, if not through the flames; and after that the cattle in their turn are driven through the fire.[ ] [the midsummer fires in prussia and lithuania thought to protect against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease; the fire kindled by the friction of wood.] in many parts of prussia and lithuania great fires are kindled on midsummer eve. all the heights are ablaze with them, as far as the eye can see. the fires are supposed to be a protection against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease, especially if next morning the cattle are driven over the places where the fires burned. above all, the bonfires ensure the farmer against the arts of witches, who try to steal the milk from his cows by charms and spells. that is why next morning you may see the young fellows who lit the bonfire going from house to house and receiving jugfuls of milk. and for the same reason they stick burs and mugwort on the gate or the hedge through which the cows go to pasture, because that is supposed to be a preservative against witchcraft.[ ] in masuren, a district of eastern prussia inhabited by a branch of the polish family, it is the custom on the evening of midsummer day to put out all the fires in the village. then an oaken stake is driven into the ground and a wheel is fixed on it as on an axle. this wheel the villagers, working by relays, cause to revolve with great rapidity till fire is produced by friction. every one takes home a lighted brand from the new fire and with it rekindles the fire on the domestic hearth.[ ] in the sixteenth century martin of urzedow, a polish priest, denounced the heathen practices of the women who on st. john's eve (midsummer eve) kindled fires by the friction of wood, danced, and sang songs in honour of the devil.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the letts of russia; midsummer day in ancient rome.] among the letts who inhabit the baltic provinces of russia the most joyful festival of the year is held on midsummer day. the people drink and dance and sing and adorn themselves and their houses with flowers and branches. chopped boughs of fir are strewn about the rooms, and leaves are stuck in the roofs. in every farm-yard a birch tree is set up, and every person of the name of john who enters the farm that day must break off a twig from the tree and hang up on its branches in return a small present for the family. when the serene twilight of the summer night has veiled the landscape, bonfires gleam on all the hills, and wild shouts of "ligho! ligho!" echo from the woods and fields. in riga the day is a festival of flowers. from all the neighbourhood the peasants stream into the city laden with flowers and garlands. a market of flowers is held in an open square and on the chief bridge over the river; here wreaths of immortelles, which grow wild in the meadows and woods, are sold in great profusion and deck the houses of riga for long afterwards. roses, too, are now at the prime of their beauty, and masses of them adorn the flower-stalls. till far into the night gay crowds parade the streets to music or float on the river in gondolas decked with flowers.[ ] so long ago in ancient rome barges crowned with flowers and crowded with revellers used to float down the tiber on midsummer day, the twenty-fourth of june,[ ] and no doubt the strains of music were wafted as sweetly across the water to listeners on the banks as they still are to the throngs of merrymakers at riga. [the midsummer fires among the south slavs.] bonfires are commonly kindled by the south slavonian peasantry on midsummer eve, and lads and lasses dance and shout round them in the usual way. the very names of st. john's day (_ivanje_) and the st. john's fires (_kries_) are said to act like electric sparks on the hearts and minds of these swains, kindling a thousand wild, merry, and happy fancies and ideas in their rustic breasts. at kamenagora in croatia the herdsmen throw nine three-year old vines into the bonfire, and when these burst into flames the young men who are candidates for matrimony jump through the blaze. he who succeeds in leaping over the fire without singeing himself will be married within the year. at vidovec in croatia parties of two girls and one lad unite to kindle a midsummer bonfire and to leap through the flames; he or she who leaps furthest will soonest wed. afterwards lads and lasses dance in separate rings, but the ring of lads bumps up against the ring of girls and breaks it, and the girl who has to let go her neighbour's hand will forsake her true love hereafter.[ ] in servia on midsummer eve herdsmen light torches of birch bark and march round the sheepfolds and cattle-stalls; then they climb the hills and there allow the torches to burn out.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the magyars of hungary.] among the magyars in hungary the midsummer fire-festival is marked by the same features that meet us in so many parts of europe. on midsummer eve in many places it is customary to kindle bonfires on heights and to leap over them, and from the manner in which the young people leap the bystanders predict whether they will marry soon. at nograd-ludany the young men and women, each carrying a truss of straw, repair to a meadow, where they pile the straw in seven or twelve heaps and set it on fire. then they go round the fire singing, and hold a bunch of iron-wort in the smoke, while they say, "no boil on my body, no sprain in my foot!" this holding of the flowers over the flames is regarded, we are told, as equally important with the practice of walking through the fire barefoot and stamping it out. on this day also many hungarian swineherds make fire by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and through the fire thus made they drive their pigs to preserve them from sickness.[ ] in villages on the danube, where the population is a cross between magyar and german, the young men and maidens go to the high banks of the river on midsummer eve; and while the girls post themselves low down the slope, the lads on the height above set fire to little wooden wheels and, after swinging them to and fro at the end of a wand, send them whirling through the air to fall into the danube. as he does so, each lad sings out the name of his sweetheart, and she listens well pleased down below.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the esthonians; the midsummer fires in oesel.] the esthonians of russia, who, like the magyars, belong to the great turanian family of mankind, also celebrate the summer solstice in the usual way. on the eve of st. john all the people of a farm, a village, or an estate, walk solemnly in procession, the girls decked with flowers, the men with leaves and carrying bundles of straw under their arms. the lads carry lighted torches or flaming hoops steeped in tar at the top of long poles. thus they go singing to the cattle-sheds, the granaries, and so forth, and afterwards march thrice round the dwelling-house. finally, preceded by the shrill music of the bagpipes and shawms, they repair to a neighbouring hill, where the materials of a bonfire have been collected. tar-barrels filled with combustibles are hung on poles, or the trunk of a felled tree has been set up with a great mass of juniper piled about it in the form of a pyramid. when a light has been set to the pile, old and young gather about it and pass the time merrily with song and music till break of day. every one who comes brings fresh fuel for the fire, and they say, "now we all gather together, where st. john's fire burns. he who comes not to st. john's fire will have his barley full of thistles, and his oats full of weeds." three logs are thrown into the fire with special ceremony; in throwing the first they say, "gold of pleasure (a plant with yellow flowers) into the fire!" in throwing the second they say, "weeds to the unploughed land!" but in throwing the third they cry, "flax on my field!" the fire is said to keep the witches from the cattle.[ ] according to others, it ensures that for the whole year the milk shall be "as pure as silver and as the stars in the sky, and the butter as yellow as the sun and the fire and the gold."[ ] in the esthonian island of oesel, while they throw fuel into the midsummer fire, they call out, "weeds to the fire, flax to the field," or they fling three billets into the flames, saying, "flax grow long!" and they take charred sticks from the bonfire home with them and keep them to make the cattle thrive. in some parts of the island the bonfire is formed by piling brushwood and other combustibles round a tree, at the top of which a flag flies. whoever succeeds in knocking down the flag with a pole before it begins to burn will have good luck. formerly the festivities lasted till daybreak, and ended in scenes of debauchery which looked doubly hideous by the growing light of a summer morning.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the finns and cheremiss of russia.] still farther north, among a people of the same turanian stock, we learn from an eye-witness that midsummer night used to witness a sort of witches' sabbath on the top of every hill in finland. the bonfire was made by setting up four tall birches in a square and piling the intermediate space with fuel. round the roaring flames the people sang and drank and gambolled in the usual way.[ ] farther east, in the valley of the volga, the cheremiss celebrate about midsummer a festival which haxthausen regarded as identical with the midsummer ceremonies of the rest of europe. a sacred tree in the forest, generally a tall and solitary oak, marks the scene of the solemnity. all the males assemble there, but no woman may be present. a heathen priest lights seven fires in a row from north-west to south-east; cattle are sacrificed and their blood poured in the fires, each of which is dedicated to a separate deity. afterwards the holy tree is illumined by lighted candles placed on its branches; the people fall on their knees and with faces bowed to the earth pray that god would be pleased to bless them, their children, their cattle, and their bees, grant them success in trade, in travel, and in the chase, enable them to pay the czar's taxes, and so forth.[ ] [the midsummer fires in france; bossuet on the midsummer festival.] when we pass from the east to the west of europe we still find the summer solstice celebrated with rites of the same general character. down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer prevailed so commonly in france that there was hardly a town or a village, we are told, where they were not kindled.[ ] though the pagan origin of the custom may be regarded as certain, the catholic church threw a christian cloak over it by boldly declaring that the bonfires were lit in token of the general rejoicing at the birth of the baptist, who opportunely came into the world at the solstice of summer, just as his greater successor did at the solstice of winter; so that the whole year might be said to revolve on the golden hinges of these two great birthdays.[ ] writing in the seventeenth century bishop bossuet expressly affirms this edifying theory of the midsummer bonfires, and he tells his catechumens that the church herself participated in the illumination, since in several dioceses, including his own diocese of meaux, a number of parishes kindled what were called ecclesiastical fires for the purpose of banishing the superstitions practised at the purely mundane bonfires. these superstitions, he goes on to say, consisted in dancing round the fire, playing, feasting, singing ribald songs, throwing herbs across the fire, gathering herbs at noon or while fasting, carrying them on the person, preserving them throughout the year, keeping brands or cinders of the fire, and other similar practices.[ ] however excellent the intentions of the ecclesiastical authorities may have been, they failed of effecting their purpose; for the superstitions as well as the bonfires survived in france far into the nineteenth century, if indeed they are extinct even now at the beginning of the twentieth. writing in the latter part of the nineteenth century mr. ch. cuissard tells us that he himself witnessed in touraine and poitou the superstitious practices which he describes as follows: "the most credulous examine the ways in which the flame burns and draw good or bad omens accordingly. others, after leaping through the flames crosswise, pass their little children through them thrice, fully persuaded that the little ones will then be able to walk at once. in some places the shepherds make their sheep tread the embers of the extinct fire in order to preserve them from the foot-rot. here you may see about midnight an old woman grubbing among the cinders of the pyre to find the hair of the holy virgin or saint john, which she deems an infallible specific against fever. there, another woman is busy plucking the roots of the herbs which have been burned on the surface of the ground; she intends to eat them, imagining that they are an infallible preservative against cancer. elsewhere a girl wears on her neck a flower which the touch of st. john's fire has turned for her into a talisman, and she is sure to marry within the year. shots are fired at the tree planted in the midst of the fire to drive away the demons who might purpose to send sicknesses about the country. seats are set round about the bonfire, in order that the souls of dead relations may come and enjoy themselves for a little with the living."[ ] [the midsummer fires in brittany; uses made of the charred sticks and flowers.] in brittany, apparently, the custom of the midsummer bonfires is kept up to this day. thus in lower brittany every town and every village still lights its _tantad_ or bonfire on st. john's night. when the flames have died down, the whole assembly kneels round about the bonfire and an old man prays aloud. then they all rise and march thrice round the fire; at the third turn they stop and every one picks up a pebble and throws it on the burning pile. after that they disperse.[ ] in finistère the bonfires of st. john's day are kindled by preference in an open space near a chapel of st. john; but if there is no such chapel, they are lighted in the square facing the parish church and in some districts at cross-roads. everybody brings fuel for the fire, it may be a faggot, a log, a branch, or an armful of gorse. when the vespers are over, the parish priest sets a light to the pile. all heads are bared, prayers recited, and hymns sung. then the dancing begins. the young folk skip round the blazing pile and leap over it, when the flames have died down. if anybody makes a false step and falls or rolls in the hot embers, he or she is greeted with hoots and retires abashed from the circle of dancers. brands are carried home from the bonfire to protect the houses against lightning, conflagrations, and certain maladies and spells. the precious talisman is carefully kept in a cupboard till st. john's day of the following year.[ ] at quimper, and in the district of léon, chairs used to be placed round the midsummer bonfire, that the souls of the dead might sit on them and warm themselves at the blaze.[ ] at brest on this day thousands of people used to assemble on the ramparts towards evening and brandish lighted torches, which they swung in circles or flung by hundreds into the air. the closing of the town gates put an end to the spectacle, and the lights might be seen dispersing in all directions like wandering will-o'-the-wisps.[ ] in upper brittany the materials for the midsummer bonfires, which generally consist of bundles of furze and heath, are furnished by voluntary contributions, and piled on the tops of hills round poles, each of which is surmounted by a nosegay or a crown. this nosegay or crown is generally provided by a man named john or a woman named jean, and it is always a john or a jean who puts a light to the bonfire. while the fire is blazing the people dance and sing round it, and when the flames have subsided they leap over the glowing embers. charred sticks from the bonfire are thrown into wells to improve the water, and they are also taken home as a protection against thunder.[ ] to make them thoroughly effective, however, against thunder and lightning you should keep them near your bed, between a bit of a twelfth night cake and a sprig of boxwood which has been blessed on palm sunday.[ ] flowers from the nosegay or crown which overhung the fire are accounted charms against disease and pain, both bodily and spiritual; hence girls hang them at their breast by a thread of scarlet wool. in many parishes of brittany the priest used to go in procession with the crucifix and kindle the bonfire with his own hands; and farmers were wont to drive their flocks and herds through the fire in order to preserve them from sickness till midsummer of the following year. also it was believed that every girl who danced round nine of the bonfires would marry within the year.[ ] [the midsummer fires in normandy; the fires as a protection against witchcraft; the brotherhood of the green wolf at jumièges; pretence of throwing the green wolf into the fire.] in normandy the midsummer fires have now almost disappeared, at least in the district known as the bocage, but they used to shine on every hill. they were commonly made by piling brushwood, broom, and ferns about a tall tree, which was decorated with a crown of moss and sometimes with flowers. while they burned, people danced and sang round them, and young folk leaped over the flames or the glowing ashes. in the valley of the orne the custom was to kindle the bonfire just at the moment when the sun was about to dip below the horizon; and the peasants drove their cattle through the fires to protect them against witchcraft, especially against the spells of witches and wizards who attempted to steal the milk and butter.[ ] at jumièges in normandy, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, the midsummer festival was marked by certain singular features which bore the stamp of a very high antiquity. every year, on the twenty-third of june, the eve of st. john, the brotherhood of the green wolf chose a new chief or master, who had always to be taken from the hamlet of conihout. on being elected, the new head of the brotherhood assumed the title of the green wolf, and donned a peculiar costume consisting of a long green mantle and a very tall green hat of a conical shape and without a brim. thus arrayed he stalked solemnly at the head of the brothers, chanting the hymn of st. john, the crucifix and holy banner leading the way, to a place called chouquet. here the procession was met by the priest, precentors, and choir, who conducted the brotherhood to the parish church. after hearing mass the company adjourned to the house of the green wolf, where a simple repast, such as is required by the church on fast-days, was served up to them. then they danced before the door till it was time to light the bonfire. night being come, the fire was kindled to the sound of hand-bells by a young man and a young woman, both decked with flowers. as the flames rose, the _te deum_ was sung, and a villager thundered out a parody in the norman dialect of the hymn _ut queant laxis_. meantime the green wolf and his brothers, with their hoods down on their shoulders and holding each other by the hand, ran round the fire after the man who had been chosen to be the green wolf of the following year. though only the first and the last man of the chain had a hand free, their business was to surround and seize thrice the future green wolf, who in his efforts to escape belaboured the brothers with a long wand which he carried. when at last they succeeded in catching him they carried him to the burning pile and made as if they would throw him on it. this ceremony over, they returned to the house of the green wolf, where a supper, still of the most meagre fare, was set before them. up till midnight a sort of religious solemnity prevailed. no unbecoming word might fall from the lips of any of the company, and a censor, armed with a hand-bell, was appointed to mark and punish instantly any infraction of the rule. but at the stroke of twelve all this was changed. constraint gave way to license; pious hymns were replaced by bacchanalian ditties, and the shrill quavering notes of the village fiddle hardly rose above the roar of voices that went up from the merry brotherhood of the green wolf. next day, the twenty-fourth of june or midsummer day, was celebrated by the same personages with the same noisy gaiety. one of the ceremonies consisted in parading, to the sound of musketry, an enormous loaf of consecrated bread, which, rising in tiers, was surmounted by a pyramid of verdure adorned with ribbons. after that the holy handbells, deposited on the step of the altar, were entrusted as insignia of office to the man who was to be the green wolf next year.[ ] [the midsummer fires in picardy.] in the canton of breteuil in picardy (department of oise) the priest used to kindle the midsummer bonfire, and the people marched thrice round it in procession. some of them took ashes of the fire home with them to protect the houses against lightning.[ ] the custom is, or was down to recent years, similar at vorges, near laon. an enormous pyre, some fifty or sixty feet high, supported in the middle by a tall pole, is constructed every year on the twenty-third of june, the eve of st. john. it stands at one end of the village, and all the inhabitants contribute fuel to it: a cart goes round the village in the morning, by order of the mayor, collecting combustibles from house to house: no one would dream of refusing to comply with the customary obligation. in the evening, after a service in honour of st. john has been performed in the church, the clergy, the mayor, the municipal authorities, the rural police, and the fire-brigade march in procession to the bonfire, accompanied by the inhabitants and a crowd of idlers drawn by curiosity from the neighbouring villages. after addressing the throng in a sermon, to which they pay little heed, the parish priest sprinkles the pyre with holy water, and taking a lighted torch from the hand of an assistant sets fire to the pile. the enormous blaze, flaring up against the dark sky of the summer night, is seen for many miles around, particularly from the hill of laon. when it has died down into a huge heap of glowing embers and grey ashes, every one carries home a charred stick or some cinders; and the fire-brigade, playing their hose on what remains, extinguishes the smouldering fire. the people preserve the charred sticks and cinders throughout the year, believing that these relics of st john's bonfire have power to guard them from lightning and from contagious diseases.[ ] at château-thierry, a town of the department of aisne, between paris and reims, the custom of lighting bonfires and dancing round them at the midsummer festival of st. john lasted down to about ; the fires were kindled especially when june had been rainy, and the people thought that the lighting of the bonfires would cause the rain to cease.[ ] [the midsummer fires in beauce and perche; the fires as a protection against witchcraft.] in beauce and perche, two neighbouring districts of france to the south-west of paris, the midsummer bonfires have nearly or wholly disappeared, but formerly they were commonly kindled and went by the name of the "fires of st. john." the site of the bonfire was either the village square or beside the cross in the cemetery. here a great pile of faggots, brushwood, and grass was accumulated about a huge branch, which bore at the top a crown of fresh flowers. the priest blessed the bonfire and the people danced round it. when it blazed and crackled, the bystanders thrust their heads into the puffs of smoke, in the belief that it would preserve them from a multitude of ills; and when the fire was burnt out, they rushed upon the charred embers and ashes and carried them home, imagining that they had a secret virtue to guard their houses from being struck by lightning or consumed by fire. some of the perche farmers in the old days, not content with the public bonfire, used to light little private bonfires in their farmyards and make all their cattle pass through the smoke and flames for the purpose of protecting them against witchcraft or disease.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the ardennes, the vosges, and the jura; the midsummer fires in franche-comté; the midsummer fires in berry and other parts of central france.] in the department of the ardennes every one was wont to contribute his faggot to the midsummer bonfire, and the clergy marched at the head of the procession to kindle it. failure to light the fires would, in the popular belief, have exposed the fields to the greatest danger. at revin the young folk, besides dancing round the fire to the strains of the village fiddler, threw garlands of flowers across the flames to each other.[ ] in the vosges it is still customary to kindle bonfires upon the hill-tops on midsummer eve; the people believe that the fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops.[ ] in the jura mountains the midsummer bonfires went by the name of _bâ_ or _beau_. they were lit on the most conspicuous points of the landscape.[ ] near st. jean, in the jura, it appears that at this season young people still repair to the cross-roads and heights, and there wave burning torches so as to present the appearance of fiery wheels in the darkness.[ ] in franche-comté, the province of france which lies immediately to the west of the jura mountains, the fires of st. john still shone on the saint's day in several villages down to recent years. they were generally lit on high ground and the young folks of both sexes sang and danced round them, and sprang over the dying flames.[ ] in bresse bonfires used to be kindled on midsummer eve (the twenty-third of june) and the people danced about them in a circle. devout persons, particularly old women, circumambulated the fires fourteen times, telling their beads and mumbling seven _paters_ and seven _aves_ in the hope that thereby they would feel no pains in their backs when they stooped over the sickle in the harvest field.[ ] in berry, a district of central france, the midsummer fire was lit on the eve of st. john and went by the name of the _jônée, joannée_, or _jouannée_. every family according to its means contributed faggots, which were piled round a pole on the highest ground in the neighbourhood. in the hamlets the office of kindling the fire devolved on the oldest man, but in the towns it was the priest or the mayor who discharged the duty. here, as in brittany, people supposed that a girl who had danced round nine of the midsummer bonfires would marry within the year. to leap several times over the fire was regarded as a sort of purification which kept off sickness and brought good luck to the leaper. hence the nimble youth bounded through the smoke and flames, and when the fire had somewhat abated parents jumped across it with their children in their arms in order that the little ones might also partake of its beneficent influence. embers from the extinct bonfire were taken home, and after being dipped in holy water were kept as a talisman against all kinds of misfortune, but especially against lightning.[ ] the same virtue was ascribed to the ashes and charred sticks of the midsummer bonfire in périgord, where everybody contributed his share of fuel to the pile and the whole was crowned with flowers, especially with roses and lilies.[ ] on the borders of the departments of creuse and corrèze, in central france, the fires of st. john used to be lit on the eve of the saint's day (the twenty-third of june); the custom seems to have survived till towards the end of the nineteenth century. men, women, and children assembled round the fires, and the young people jumped over them. children were brought by their parents or elder brothers into contact with the flames in the belief that this would save them from fever. older people girded themselves with stalks of rye taken from a neighbouring field, because they fancied that by so doing they would not grow weary in reaping the corn at harvest.[ ] [the midsummer fires in poitou.] bonfires were lit in almost all the hamlets of poitou on the eve of st. john. people marched round them thrice, carrying a branch of walnut in their hand. shepherdesses and children passed sprigs of mullein (_verbascum_) and nuts across the flames; the nuts were supposed to cure toothache, and the mullein to protect the cattle from sickness and sorcery. when the fire died down people took some of the ashes home with them, either to keep them in the house as a preservative against thunder or to scatter them on the fields for the purpose of destroying corn-cockles and darnel. stones were also placed round the fire, and it was believed that the first to lift one of these stones next morning would find under it the hair of st. john.[ ] in poitou also it used to be customary on the eve of st. john to trundle a blazing wheel wrapt in straw over the fields to fertilize them.[ ] this last custom is said to be now extinct,[ ] but it is still usual, or was so down to recent years, in poitou to kindle fires on this day at cross-roads or on the heights. the oldest or youngest person present sets a light to the pile, which consists of broom, gorse, and heath. a bright and crackling blaze shoots up, but soon dies down, and over it the young folk leap. they also throw stones into it, picking the stone according to the size of the turnips that they wish to have that year. it is said that "the good virgin" comes and sits on the prettiest of the stones, and next morning they see there her beautiful golden tresses. at lussac, in poitou, the lighting of the midsummer bonfire is still an affair of some ceremony. a pyramid of faggots is piled round a tree or tall pole on the ground where the fair is held; the priest goes in procession to the spot and kindles the pile. when prayers have been said and the clergy have withdrawn, the people continue to march round the fire, telling their beads, but it is not till the flames have begun to die down that the youth jump over them. a brand from the midsummer bonfire is supposed to be a preservative against thunder.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the departments of vienne and deux-sèvres and in the provinces of saintonge and aunis.] in the department of vienne the bonfire was kindled by the oldest man, and before the dance round the flames began it was the custom to pass across them a great bunch of mullein (_bouillon blanc_) and a branch of walnut, which next morning before sunrise were fastened over the door of the chief cattle-shed.[ ] a similar custom prevailed in the neighbouring department of deux-sèvres; but here it was the priest who kindled the bonfire, and old men used to put embers of the fire in their wooden shoes as a preservative against many evils.[ ] in some towns and villages of saintonge and aunis, provinces of western france now mostly comprised in the department of charente inférieure, the fires of st. john are still kindled on midsummer eve, but the custom is neither so common nor carried out with so much pomp and ceremony as formerly. great quantities of wood used to be piled on an open space round about a huge post or a tree stripped of its leaves and branches. every one took care to contribute a faggot to the pile, and the whole population marched to the spot in procession with the crucifix at their head and the priest bringing up the rear. the squire, or other person of high degree, put the torch to the pyre, and the priest blessed it. in the southern and eastern parts of saintonge children and cattle were passed through the smoke of the bonfires to preserve them from contagious diseases, and when the fire had gone out the people scuffled for the charred fragments of the great post, which they regarded as talismans against thunder. next morning, on midsummer day, every shepherdess in the neighbourhood was up very early, for the first to drive her sheep over the blackened cinders and ashes of the great bonfire was sure to have the best flock all that year. where the shepherds shrunk from driving their flocks through the smoke and flames of the bonfire they contented themselves with marking the hinder-quarters of the animals with a broom which had been blackened in the ashes.[ ] [the midsummer fires in southern france; midsummer festival of fire and water in provence; bathing in the sea at midsummer; temporary midsummer kings at aix and marseilles.] in the mountainous part of comminges, a province of southern france, now comprised in the department of haute garonne, the midsummer fire is made by splitting open the trunk of a tall tree, stuffing the crevice with shavings, and igniting the whole. a garland of flowers is fastened to the top of the tree, and at the moment when the fire is lighted the man who was last married has to climb up a ladder and bring the flowers down. in the flat parts of the same district the materials of the midsummer bonfires consist of fuel piled in the usual way; but they must be put together by men who have been married since the last midsummer festival, and each of these benedicts is obliged to lay a wreath of flowers on the top of the pile.[ ] at the entrance of the valley of aran young people set up on the banks of the garonne a tree covered with ribbons and garlands; at the end of a year the withered tree and faded flowers furnish excellent fuel. so on the eve of st. john the villagers assemble, and an old man or a child kindles the fire which is to consume tree and garlands together. while the blaze lasts the people sing and dance; and the burnt tree is then replaced by another which will suffer the same fate after the lapse of a year.[ ] in some districts of the french pyrenees it is deemed necessary to leap nine times over the midsummer fire if you would be assured of prosperity.[ ] a traveller in southern france at the beginning of the nineteenth century tells us that "the eve of st. john is also a day of joy for the provençals. they light great fires and the young folk leap over them. at aix they shower squibs and crackers on the passers-by, which has often had disagreeable consequences. at marseilles they drench each other with scented water, which is poured from the windows or squirted from little syringes; the roughest jest is to souse passers-by with clean water, which gives rise to loud bursts of laughter."[ ] at draguignan, in the department of var, fires used to be lit in every street on the eve of st. john, and the people roasted pods of garlic at them; the pods were afterwards distributed to every family. another diversion of the evening was to pour cans of water from the houses on the heads of people in the streets.[ ] in provence the midsummer fires are still popular. children go from door to door begging for fuel, and they are seldom sent empty away. formerly the priest, the mayor, and the aldermen used to walk in procession to the bonfire, and even deigned to light it; after which the assembly marched thrice round the burning pile, while the church bells pealed and rockets fizzed and sputtered in the air. dancing began later, and the bystanders threw water on each other. at ciotat, while the fire was blazing, the young people plunged into the sea and splashed each other vigorously. at vitrolles they bathed in a pond in order that they might not suffer from fever during the year, and at saintes-maries they watered the horses to protect them from the itch.[ ] at aix a nominal king, chosen from among the youth for his skill in shooting at a popinjay, presided over the festival. he selected his own officers, and escorted by a brilliant train marched to the bonfire, kindled it, and was the first to dance round it. next day he distributed largesse to his followers. his reign lasted a year, during which he enjoyed certain privileges. he was allowed to attend the mass celebrated by the commander of the knights of st. john on st. john's day: the right of hunting was accorded to him; and soldiers might not be quartered in his house. at marseilles also on this day one of the guilds chose a king of the _badache_ or double axe; but it does not appear that he kindled the bonfire, which is said to have been lighted with great ceremony by the préfet and other authorities.[ ] [the midsummer fires in belgium; bonfires on st. peter's day in brabant; the king and queen of the roses; effigies burnt in the midsummer fires.] in belgium the custom of kindling the midsummer bonfires has long disappeared from the great cities, but it is still kept up in rural districts and small towns of brabant, flanders, and limburg. people leap across the fires to protect themselves against fever, and in eastern flanders women perform similar leaps for the purpose of ensuring an easy delivery. at termonde young people go from door to door collecting fuel for the fires and reciting verses, in which they beg the inmates to give them "wood of st. john" and to keep some wood for st. peter's day (the twenty-ninth of june); for in belgium the eve of st. peter's day is celebrated by bonfires and dances exactly like those which commemorate st. john's eve. the ashes of the st. john's fires are deemed by belgian peasants an excellent remedy for consumption, if you take a spoonful or two of them, moistened with water, day by day. people also burn vervain in the fires, and they say that in the ashes of the plant you may find, if you look for it, the "fool's stone."[ ] in many parts of brabant st. peter's bonfire used to be much larger than that of his rival st. john. when it had burned out, both sexes engaged in a game of ball, and the winner became the king of summer or of the ball and had the right to choose his queen. sometimes the winner was a woman, and it was then her privilege to select her royal mate. this pastime was well known at louvain and it continued to be practised at grammont and mespelaer down to the second half of the nineteenth century. at mespelaer, which is a village near termonde, a huge pile of eglantine, reeds, and straw was collected in a marshy meadow for the bonfire; and next evening after vespers the young folk who had lit it assembled at the "good life" tavern to play the game. the winner was crowned with a wreath of roses, and the rest danced and sang in a ring about him. at grammont, while the bonfire was lit and the dances round it took place on st. peter's eve, the festival of the "crown of roses" was deferred till the following sunday. the young folk arranged among themselves beforehand who should be king and queen of the roses: the rosy wreaths were hung on cords across the street: the dancers danced below them, and at a given moment the wreaths fell on the heads of the chosen king and queen, who had to entertain their fellows at a feast. according to some people the fires of st. peter, like those of st. john, were lighted in order to drive away dragons.[ ] in french flanders down to a straw figure representing a man was always burned in the midsummer bonfire, and the figure of a woman was burned on st. peter's day.[ ] in belgium people jump over the midsummer bonfires as a preventive of colic, and they keep the ashes at home to hinder fire from breaking out.[ ] [the midsummer fires in england; stow's description of the midsummer fires in london; the midsummer fires at eton.] the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer has been observed in many parts of our own country. "on the vigil of saint john the baptist, commonly called midsummer eve, it was usual in most country places, and also in towns and cities, for the inhabitants, both old and young, and of both sexes, to meet together, and make merry by the side of a large fire made in the middle of the street, or in some open and convenient place, over which the young men frequently leaped by way of frolic, and also exercised themselves with various sports and pastimes, more especially with running, wrestling, and dancing. these diversions they continued till midnight, and sometimes till cock-crowing."[ ] in the streets of london the midsummer fires were lighted in the time of queen elizabeth down to the end of the sixteenth century, as we learn from stow's description, which runs thus: "in the months of june and july, on the vigils of festival days, and on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them; the wealthier sort also, before their doors near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils furnished with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity, praising god for his benefits bestowed on them. these were called bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before at controversy, were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and made of bitter enemies loving friends; and also for the virtue that a great fire hath to purge the infection of the air. on the vigil of st. john the baptist, and on st. peter and paul the apostles, every man's door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, st john's wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all the night; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, containing hundreds of lamps alight at once, which made a goodly show, namely, in new fish street, thames street, etc."[ ] in the sixteenth century the eton boys used to kindle a bonfire on the east side of the church both on st john's day and on st. peter's day.[ ] writing in the second half of the seventeenth century, the antiquary john aubrey tells us that bonfires were still kindled in many places on st. john's night, but that the civil wars had thrown many of these old customs out of fashion. wars, he adds, extinguish superstition as well as religion and laws, and there is nothing like gunpowder for putting phantoms to flight.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the north of england; the midsummer fires in northumberland.] in the north of england these fires used to be lit in the open streets. young and old gathered round them, and while the young leaped over the fires and engaged in games, their elders looked on and probably remembered with regret the days when they used to foot it as nimbly. sometimes the fires were kindled on the tops of high hills. the people also carried firebrands about the fields.[ ] the custom of kindling bonfires on midsummer eve prevailed all over cumberland down to the second half of the eighteenth century.[ ] in northumberland the custom seems to have lasted into the first quarter of the nineteenth century; the fires were lit in the villages and on the tops of high hills, and the people sported and danced round them.[ ] moreover, the villagers used to run with burning brands round their fields and to snatch ashes from a neighbour's fire, saying as they did so, "we have the flower (or flour) of the wake."[ ] at sandhill bonfires were kindled on the eve of st. peter as well as on midsummer eve; the custom is attested for the year , when it was described as ancient.[ ] we are told that "on midsummer's eve, reckoned according to the old style, it was formerly the custom of the inhabitants, young and old, not only of whalton, but of most of the adjacent villages, to collect a large cartload of whins and other combustible materials, which was dragged by them with great rejoicing (a fiddler being seated on the top of the cart) into the village and erected into a pile. the people from the surrounding country assembled towards evening, when it was set on fire; and whilst the young danced around it, the elders looked on smoking their pipes and drinking their beer, until it was consumed. there can be little doubt that this curious old custom dates from a very remote antiquity." in a law-suit, which was tried in , the rector of whalton gave evidence of the constant use of the village green for the ceremony since . "the bonfire," he said, "was lighted a little to the north-east of the well at whalton, and partly on the footpath, and people danced round it and jumped through it. that was never interrupted." the rev. g.r. hall, writing in , says that "the fire festivals or bonfires of the summer solstice at the old midsummer until recently were commemorated on christenburg crags and elsewhere by leaping through and dancing round the fires, as those who have been present have told me."[ ] down to the early part of the nineteenth century bonfires called beal-fires used to be lit on midsummer eve all over the wolds in the east riding of yorkshire.[ ] [the midsummer fires in herefordshire, somersetshire, devonshire, and cornwall; the cornish fires on midsummer eve and st. peter's eve.] in herefordshire and somersetshire the peasants used to make fires in the fields on midsummer eve "to bless the apples."[ ] in devonshire the custom of leaping over the midsummer fires was also observed.[ ] "in cornwall, the festival fires, called bonfires, are kindled on the eves of st. john baptist and st. peter's day; and midsummer is thence, in the cornish tongue, called _goluan_, which signifies both light and rejoicing. at these fires the cornish attend with lighted torches, tarred and pitched at the end, and make their perambulations round their fires, going from village to village and carrying their torches before them; this is certainly the remains of druid superstition; for, _faces praeferre_, to carry lighted torches was reckoned a kind of gentilism, and as such particularly prohibited by the gallick councils."[ ] at penzance and elsewhere in the county the people danced and sang about the bonfires on midsummer eve. on whiteborough, a large tumulus near launceston, a huge bonfire used to be kindled on midsummer eve; a tall summer pole with a large bush at the top was fixed in the centre of the bonfire.[ ] the cornish fires at this season appear to have been commonly lit on high and conspicuous hills, such as tregonan, godolphin, carnwarth, and cam brea. when it grew dusk on midsummer eve, old men would hobble away to some height whence they counted the fires and drew a presage from their number.[ ] "it is the immemorial usage in penzance, and the neighbouring towns and villages, to kindle bonfires and torches on midsummer-eve; and on midsummer-day to hold a fair on penzance quay, where the country folks assemble from the adjoining parishes in great numbers to make excursions on the water. st. peter's eve (the twenty-eighth of june) is distinguished by a similar display of bonfires and torches, although the 'quay-fair' on st. peter's-day (the twenty-ninth of june), has been discontinued upwards of forty years. on these eves a line of tar-barrels, relieved occasionally by large bonfires, is seen in the centre of each of the principal streets in penzance. on either side of this line young men and women pass up and down, swinging round their heads heavy torches made of large pieces of folded canvas steeped in tar, and nailed to the ends of sticks between three and four feet long; the flames of some of these almost equal those of the tar-barrels. rows of lighted candles, also, when the air is calm, are fixed outside the windows or along the sides of the streets. in st. just, and other mining parishes, the young miners, mimicking their fathers' employments, bore rows of holes in the rocks, load them with gunpowder, and explode them in rapid succession by trains of the same substance. as the holes are not deep enough to split the rocks, the same little batteries serve for many years. on these nights, mount's bay has a most animating appearance, although not equal to what was annually witnessed at the beginning of the present century, when the whole coast, from the land's end to the lizard, wherever a town or a village existed, was lighted up with these stationary or moving fires. in the early part of the evening, children may be seen wearing wreaths of flowers--a custom in all probability originating from the ancient use of these ornaments when they danced around the fires. at the close of the fireworks in penzance, a great number of persons of both sexes, chiefly from the neighbourhood of the quay, used always, until within the last few years, to join hand in hand, forming a long string, and run through the streets, playing 'thread the needle,' heedless of the fireworks showered upon them, and oftentimes leaping over the yet glowing embers. i have on these occasions seen boys following one another, jumping through flames higher than themselves."[ ] [the midsummer fires in wales and the isle of man; burning wheel rolled down hill.] in wales the midsummer fires were kindled on st. john's eve and on st. john's day. three or nine different kinds of wood and charred faggots carefully preserved from the last midsummer were deemed necessary to build the bonfire, which was generally done on rising ground. various herbs were thrown into the blaze; and girls with bunches of three or nine different kinds of flowers would take the hands of boys, who wore flowers in their buttonholes and hats, and together the young couples would leap over the fires. on the same two midsummer days roses and wreaths of flowers were hung over the doors and windows. "describing a midsummer fire, an old inhabitant, born in , remembered being taken to different hills in the vale of glamorgan to see festivities in which people from all parts of the district participated. she was at that time about fourteen, and old enough to retain a vivid recollection of the circumstances. people conveyed trusses of straw to the top of the hill, where men and youths waited for the contributions. women and girls were stationed at the bottom of the hill. then a large cart-wheel was thickly swathed with straw, and not an inch of wood was left in sight. a pole was inserted through the centre of the wheel, so that long ends extended about a yard on each side. if any straw remained, it was made up into torches at the top of tall sticks. at a given signal the wheel was lighted, and sent rolling downhill. if this fire-wheel went out before it reached the bottom of the hill, a very poor harvest was promised. if it kept lighted all the way down, and continued blazing for a long time, the harvest would be exceptionally abundant. loud cheers and shouts accompanied the progress of the wheel."[ ] at darowen in wales small bonfires were kindled on midsummer eve.[ ] on the same day people in the isle of man were wont to light fires to the windward of every field, so that the smoke might pass over the corn; and they folded their cattle and carried blazing furze or gorse round them several times.[ ] [the midsummer fires in ireland; passage of people and cattle through the fires; cattle driven through the fire; ashes used to fertilize the fields; the white horse at the midsummer fire.] a writer of the last quarter of the seventeenth century tells us that in ireland, "on the eves of st. john baptist and st. peter, they always have in every town a bonfire, late in the evenings, and carry about bundles of reeds fast tied and fired; these being dry, will last long, and flame better than a torch, and be a pleasing divertive prospect to the distant beholder; a stranger would go near to imagine the whole country was on fire."[ ] another writer says of the south of ireland: "on midsummer's eve, every eminence, near which is a habitation, blazes with bonfires; and round these they carry numerous torches, shouting and dancing, which affords a beautiful sight."[ ] an author who described ireland in the first quarter of the eighteenth century says: "on the vigil of st. john the baptist's nativity, they make bonfires, and run along the streets and fields with wisps of straw blazing on long poles to purify the air, which they think infectious, by believing all the devils, spirits, ghosts, and hobgoblins fly abroad this night to hurt mankind."[ ] another writer states that he witnessed the festival in ireland in : "at the house where i was entertained, it was told me, that we should see, at midnight, the most singular sight in ireland, which was the lighting of fires in honour of the sun. accordingly, exactly at midnight, the fires began to appear; and taking the advantage of going up to the leads of the house, which had a widely extended view, i saw on a radius of thirty miles, all around, the fires burning on every eminence which the country afforded. i had a farther satisfaction in learning, from undoubted authority, that the people danced round the fires, and at the close went through these fires, and made their sons and daughters, together with their cattle, pass through the fire; and the whole was conducted with religious solemnity."[ ] that the custom prevailed in full force as late as appears from a notice in a newspaper of that date, which runs thus: "the old pagan fire-worship still survives in ireland, though nominally in honour of st. john. on sunday night bonfires were observed throughout nearly every county in the province of leinster. in kilkenny, fires blazed on every hillside at intervals of about a mile. there were very many in the queen's county, also in kildare and wexford. the effect in the rich sunset appeared to travellers very grand. the people assemble, and dance round the fires, the children jump through the flames, and in former times live coals were carried into the corn-fields to prevent blight."[ ] in county leitrim on st. john's eve, which is called bonfire day, fires are still lighted after dusk on the hills and along the sides of the roads.[ ] all over kerry the same thing continues to be done, though not so commonly as of old. small fires were made across the road, and to drive through them brought luck for the year. cattle were also driven through the fires. on lettermore island, in south connemara, some of the ashes from the midsummer bonfire are thrown on the fields to fertilize them.[ ] one writer informs us that in munster and connaught a bone must always be burned in the fire; for otherwise the people believe that the fire will bring no luck. he adds that in many places sterile beasts and human beings are passed through the fire, and that as a boy he himself jumped through the fire "for luck."[ ] an eye-witness has described as follows a remarkable ceremony observed in ireland on midsummer eve: "when the fire burned for some hours, and got low, an indispensable part of the ceremony commenced. every one present of the peasantry passed through it, and several children were thrown across the sparkling embers; while a wooden frame, of some eight feet long, with a horse's head fixed to one end, and a large white sheet thrown over it concealing the wood and the man on whose head it was carried, made its appearance. this was greeted with loud shouts of 'the white horse!' and having been safely carried by the skill of its bearer several times through the fire with a bold leap, it pursued the people, who ran screaming and laughing in every direction. i asked what the horse was meant for, and was told that it represented 'all cattle.'"[ ] [lady wilde's account of the midsummer fires in ireland.] lady wilde's account of the midsummer festival in ireland is picturesque and probably correct in substance, although she does not cite her authorities. as it contains some interesting features which are not noticed by the other writers on ireland whom i have consulted, i will quote the greater part of it in full. "in ancient times," she says, "the sacred fire was lighted with great ceremony on midsummer eve; and on that night all the people of the adjacent country kept fixed watch on the western promontory of howth, and the moment the first flash was seen from that spot the fact of ignition was announced with wild cries and cheers repeated from village to village, when all the local fires began to blaze, and ireland was circled by a cordon of flame rising up from every hill. then the dance and song began round every fire, and the wild hurrahs filled the air with the most frantic revelry. many of these ancient customs are still continued, and the fires are still lighted on st. john's eve on every hill in ireland. when the fire has burned down to a red glow the young men strip to the waist and leap over or through the flames; this is done backwards and forwards several times, and he who braves the greatest blaze is considered the victor over the powers of evil, and is greeted with tremendous applause. when the fire burns still lower, the young girls leap the flame, and those who leap clean over three times back and forward will be certain of a speedy marriage and good luck in after-life, with many children. the married women then walk through the lines of the burning embers; and when the fire is nearly burnt and trampled down, the yearling cattle are driven through the hot ashes, and their back is singed with a lighted hazel twig. these rods are kept safely afterwards, being considered of immense power to drive the cattle to and from the watering places. as the fire diminishes the shouting grows fainter, and the song and the dance commence; while professional story-tellers narrate tales of fairy-land, or of the good old times long ago, when the kings and princes of ireland dwelt amongst their own people, and there was food to eat and wine to drink for all comers to the feast at the king's house. when the crowd at length separate, every one carries home a brand from the fire, and great virtue is attached to the lighted _brone_ which is safely carried to the house without breaking or falling to the ground. many contests also arise amongst the young men; for whoever enters his house first with the sacred fire brings the good luck of the year with him."[ ] [holy water resorted to on midsummer eve in ireland.] in ireland, as elsewhere, water was also apparently thought to acquire a certain mystical virtue at midsummer. "at stoole, near downpatrick, there is a ceremony commencing at twelve o'clock at night on midsummer eve. its sacred mount is consecrated to st. patrick; the plain contains three wells, to which the most extraordinary virtues are attributed. here and there are heaps of stones, around some of which appear great numbers of people, running with as much speed as possible; around others crowds of worshippers kneel with bare legs and feet as an indispensable part of the penance. the men, without coats, with handkerchiefs on their heads instead of hats, having gone seven times round each heap, kiss the ground, cross themselves, and proceed to the hill; here they ascend, on their bare knees, by a path so steep and rugged that it would be difficult to walk up. many hold their hands clasped at the back of their necks, and several carry large stones on their heads. having repeated this ceremony seven times, they go to what is called st. patrick's chair, which are two great flat stones fixed upright in the hill; here they cross and bless themselves as they step in between these stones, and, while repeating prayers, an old man, seated for the purpose, turns them round on their feet three times, for which he is paid; the devotee then goes to conclude his penance at a pile of stones, named the altar. while this busy scene is continued by the multitude, the wells and streams issuing from them are thronged by crowds of halt, maimed, and blind, pressing to wash away their infirmities with water consecrated by their patron saint, and so powerful is the impression of its efficacy on their minds, that many of those who go to be healed, and who are not totally blind, or altogether crippled, really believe for a time that they are by means of its miraculous virtues perfectly restored."[ ] [the midsummer fires in scotland; fires on st. peter's day (the twenty-ninth of june).] in scotland the traces of midsummer fires are few. we are told by a writer of the eighteenth century that "the midsummer-even fire, a relict of druidism," was kindled in some parts of the county of perth.[ ] another writer of the same period, describing what he calls the druidical festivals of the highlanders, says that "the least considerable of them is that of midsummer. in the highlands of perthshire there are some vestiges of it. the cowherd goes three times round the fold, according to the course of the sun, with a burning torch in his hand. they imagined this rite had a tendency to purify their herds and flocks, and to prevent diseases. at their return the landlady makes an entertainment for the cowherd and his associates."[ ] in the northeast of scotland, down to the latter half of the eighteenth century, farmers used to go round their lands with burning torches about the middle of june.[ ] on the hill of cairnshee, in the parish of durris, kincardineshire, the herdsmen of the country round about annually kindle a bonfire at sunset on midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june); the men or lads collect the fuel and push each other through the smoke and flames. the custom is kept up through the benefaction of a certain alexander hogg, a native of the parish, who died about and left a small sum for the maintenance of a midsummer bonfire on the spot, because as a boy he had herded cattle on the hill. we may conjecture that in doing so he merely provided for the continuance of an old custom which he himself had observed in the same place in his youth.[ ] at the village of tarbolton in ayrshire a bonfire has been annually kindled from time immemorial on the evening of the first monday after the eleventh of june. a noted cattle-market was formerly held at the fair on the following day. the bonfire is still lit at the gloaming by the lads and lasses of the village on a high mound or hillock just outside of the village. fuel for it is collected by the lads from door to door. the youth dance round the fire and leap over the fringes of it. the many cattle-drovers who used to assemble for the fair were wont to gather round the blazing pile, smoke their pipes, and listen to the young folk singing in chorus on the hillock. afterwards they wrapped themselves in their plaids and slept round the bonfire, which was intended to last all night.[ ] thomas moresin of aberdeen, a writer of the sixteenth century, says that on st. peter's day, which is the twenty-ninth of june, the scotch ran about at night with lighted torches on mountains and high grounds, "as ceres did when she roamed the whole earth in search of proserpine";[ ] and towards the end of the eighteenth century the parish minister of loudoun, a district of ayrshire whose "bonny woods and braes" have been sung by burns, wrote that "the custom still remains amongst the herds and young people to kindle fires in the high grounds in honour of beltan. _beltan_, which in gaelic signifies _baal_, or _bel's-fire_, was antiently the time of this solemnity. it is now kept on st. peter's day."[ ] [the midsummer fires in spain and the azores; divination on midsummer eve in the azores; the midsummer fires in corsica and sardinia.] all over spain great bonfires called _lumes_ are still lit on midsummer eve. they are kept up all night, and the children leap over them in a certain rhythmical way which is said to resemble the ancient dances. on the coast, people at this season plunge into the sea; in the inland districts the villagers go and roll naked in the dew of the meadows, which is supposed to be a sovereign preservative against diseases of the skin. on this evening, too, girls who would pry into the future put a vessel of water on the sill outside their window; and when the clocks strike twelve, they break an egg in the water and see, or fancy they see, in the shapes assumed by the pulp, as it blends with the liquid, the likeness of future bridegrooms, castles, coffins, and so forth. but generally, as might perhaps have been anticipated, the obliging egg exhibits the features of a bridegroom.[ ] in the azores, also, bonfires are lit on midsummer eve (st. john's eve), and boys jump over them for luck. on that night st. john himself is supposed to appear in person and bless all the seas and waters, driving out the devils and demons who had been disporting themselves in them ever since the second day of november; that is why in the interval between the second of november and the twenty-third of june nobody will bathe in the sea or in a hot spring. on midsummer eve, too, you can always see the devil, if you will go into a garden at midnight. he is invariably found standing near a mustard-plant. his reason for adopting this posture has not been ascertained; perhaps in the chilly air of the upper world he is attracted by the genial warmth of the mustard. various forms of divination are practised by people in the azores on midsummer eve. thus a new-laid egg is broken into a glass of water, and the shapes which it assumes foreshadow the fate of the person concerned. again, seven saucers are placed in a row, filled respectively with water, earth, ashes, keys, a thimble, money, and grass, which things signify travel, death, widowhood, housekeeping, spinsterhood, riches, and farming. a blindfolded person touches one or other of the saucers with a wand and so discovers his or her fate. again, three broad beans are taken; one is left in its skin, one is half peeled, and the third is peeled outright. the three denote respectively riches, competence, and poverty. they are hidden and searched for; and he who finds one of them knows accordingly whether he will be rich, moderately well-off, or poor. again, girls take slips of paper and write the names of young men twice over on them. these they fold up and crumple and place one set under their pillows and the other set in a saucer full of water. in the morning they draw one slip of paper from under their pillow, and see whether one in the water has opened out. if the names on the two slips are the same, it is the name of her future husband. young men do the same with girls' names. once more, if a girl rises at sunrise, goes out into the street, and asks the first passer-by his christian name, that will be her husband's name.[ ] some of these modes of divination resemble those which are or used to be practised in scotland at hallowe'en.[ ] in corsica on the eve of st. john the people set fire to the trunk of a tree or to a whole tree, and the young men and maidens dance round the blaze, which is called _fucaraia_.[ ] we have seen that at ozieri, in sardinia, a great bonfire is kindled on st. john's eve, and that the young people dance round it.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the abruzzi; bathing on midsummer eve in the abruzzi; the midsummer fires in sicily; the witches at midsummer.] passing to italy, we find that the midsummer fires are still lighted on st. john's eve in many parts of the abruzzi. they are commonest in the territory which was inhabited in antiquity by the vestini; they are rarer in the land of the ancient marsi, and they disappear entirely in the lower valley of the sangro. for the most part, the fires are fed with straw and dry grass, and are kindled in the fields near the villages or on high ground. as they blaze up, the people dance round or over them. in leaping across the flames the boys cry out, "st. john, preserve my thighs and legs!" formerly it used to be common to light the bonfires also in the towns in front of churches of st. john, and the remains of the sacred fire were carried home by the people; but this custom has mostly fallen into disuse. however, at celano the practice is still kept up of taking brands and ashes from the bonfires to the houses, although the fires are no longer kindled in front of the churches, but merely in the streets.[ ] in the abruzzi water also is supposed to acquire certain marvellous and beneficent properties on st. john's night. hence many people bathe or at least wash their faces and hands in the sea or a river at that season, especially at the moment of sunrise. such a bath is said to be an excellent cure for diseases of the skin. at castiglione a casauria the people, after washing in the river or in springs, gird their waists and wreath their brows with sprigs of briony in order to keep them from aches and pains.[ ] in various parts of sicily, also, fires are kindled on midsummer eve (st. john's eve), the twenty-third of june. on the madonie mountains, in the north of the island, the herdsmen kindle them at intervals, so that the crests of the mountains are seen ablaze in the darkness for many miles. about acireale, on the east coast of the island, the bonfires are lit by boys, who jump over them. at chiaromonte the witches that night acquire extraordinary powers; hence everybody then puts a broom outside of his house, because a broom is an excellent protective against witchcraft.[ ] at orvieto the midsummer fires were specially excepted from the prohibition directed against bonfires in general.[ ] [the midsummer fires in malta ] in malta also the people celebrate midsummer eve (st. john's eve) "by kindling great fires in the public streets, and giving their children dolls to carry in their arms on this day, in order to make good the prophecy respecting the baptist, _multi in nativitate ejus gaudebunt_. days and even weeks before this festival, groups of children are seen going out into the country fields to gather straw, twigs, and all sorts of other combustibles, which they store up for st. john's eve. on the night of the twenty-third of june, the day before the festival of the saint, great fires are kindled in the streets, squares, and market places of the towns and villages of the island, and as fire after fire blazes out of the darkness of that summer night, the effect is singularly striking. these fires are sometimes kept up for hours, being continually fed by the scores of bystanders, who take great delight in throwing amidst the flames some old rickety piece of furniture which they consider as lumber in their houses. lots of happy and reckless children, and very often men, are seen merrily leaping in succession over and through the crackling flames. at the time of the order of st. john of jerusalem, the grand master himself, soon after the _angelus_, used to leave his palace, accompanied by the grand prior, the bishop, and two bailiffs, to set fire to some pitch barrels which were placed for the occasion in the square facing the sacred hospital. great crowds used to assemble here in order to assist at this ceremony. the setting ablaze of the five casks, and later on of the eight casks, by the grand master, was a signal for the others to kindle their fires in the different parts of the town."[ ] [the midsummer fires in greece; the midsummer fires in macedonia and albania.] in greece, the custom of kindling fires on st. john's eve and jumping over them is said to be still universal. one reason assigned for it is a wish to escape from the fleas.[ ] according to another account, the women cry out, as they leap over the fire, "i leave my sins behind me."[ ] in lesbos the fires on st. john's eve are usually lighted by threes, and the people spring thrice over them, each with a stone on his head, saying, "i jump the hare's fire, my head a stone!" on the morning of st. john's day those who dwell near the coast go to bathe in the sea. as they go they gird themselves with osiers, and when they are in the water they let the osiers float away, saying, "let my maladies go away!" then they look for what is called "the hairy stone," which possesses the remarkable property not only of keeping moths from clothes but even of multiplying the clothes in the chest where it is laid up, and the more hairs on the stone the more will the clothes multiply in the chest.[ ] in calymnos the midsummer fire is supposed to ensure abundance in the coming year as well as deliverance from fleas. the people dance round the fires singing, with stones on their heads, and then jump over the blaze or the glowing embers. when the fire is burning low, they throw the stones into it; and when it is nearly out, they make crosses on their legs and then go straightway and bathe in the sea.[ ] in cos the lads and lasses dance round the bonfires on st. john's eve. each of the lads binds a black stone on his head, signifying that he wishes to become as strong as the stone. also they make the sign of the cross on their feet and legs and jump over the fire.[ ] on midsummer eve the greeks of macedonia light fires after supper in front of their gates. the garlands, now faded, which were hung over the doors on may day, are taken down and cast into the flames, after which the young folk leap over the blaze, fully persuaded that st. john's fire will not burn them.[ ] in albania fires of dry herbage are, or used to be, lit everywhere on st. john's eve; young and old leap over them, for such a leap is thought to be good for the health.[ ] [the midsummer fires in america.] from the old world the midsummer fires have been carried across the atlantic to america. in brazil people jump over the fires of st. john, and at this season they can take hot coals in their mouths without burning themselves.[ ] in bolivia on the eve of st. john it is usual to see bonfires lighted on the hills and even in the streets of the capital la paz. as the city stands at the bottom of an immense ravine, and the indians of the neighbourhood take a pride in kindling bonfires on heights which might seem inaccessible, the scene is very striking when the darkness of night is suddenly and simultaneously lit up by hundreds of fires, which cast a glare on surrounding objects, producing an effect at once weird and picturesque.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the mohammedans of morocco and algeria.] the custom of kindling bonfires on midsummer day or on midsummer eve is widely spread among the mohammedan peoples of north africa, particularly in morocco and algeria; it is common both to the berbers and to many of the arabs or arabic-speaking tribes. in these countries midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june, old style) is called [arabic: _l'ansara_]. the fires are lit in the courtyards, at cross-roads, in the fields, and sometimes on the threshing-floors. plants which in burning give out a thick smoke and an aromatic smell are much sought after for fuel on these occasions; among the plants used for the purpose are giant-fennel, thyme, rue, chervil-seed, camomile, geranium, and penny-royal. people expose themselves, and especially their children, to the smoke, and drive it towards the orchards and the crops. also they leap across the fires; in some places everybody ought to repeat the leap seven times. moreover they take burning brands from the fires and carry them through the houses in order to fumigate them. they pass things through the fire, and bring the sick into contact with it, while they utter prayers for their recovery. the ashes of the bonfires are also reputed to possess beneficial properties; hence in some places people rub their hair or their bodies with them.[ ] for example, the andjra mountaineers of morocco kindle large fires in open places of their villages on midsummer day. men, women, and children jump over the flames or the glowing embers, believing that by so doing they rid themselves of all misfortune which may be clinging to them; they imagine, also, that such leaps cure the sick and procure offspring for childless couples. moreover, they burn straw, together with some marjoram and alum, in the fold where the cattle, sheep, and goats are penned for the night; the smoke, in their opinion, will make the animals thrive. on midsummer day the arabs of the mnasara tribe make fires outside their tents, near their animals, on their fields, and in their gardens. large quantities of penny-royal are burned in these fires, and over some of them the people leap thrice to and fro. sometimes small fires are also kindled inside the tents. they say that the smoke confers blessings on everything with which it comes into contact. at salee, on the atlantic coast of morocco, persons who suffer from diseased eyes rub them with the ashes of the midsummer fire; and in casablanca and azemmur the people hold their faces over the fire, because the smoke is thought to be good for the eyes. the arab tribe ulad bu aziz, in the dukkala province of morocco, kindle midsummer bonfires, not for themselves and their cattle, but only for crops and fruit; nobody likes to reap his crops before midsummer day, because if he did they would lose the benefit of the blessed influence which flows from the smoke of the bonfires. again, the beni mgild, a berber tribe of morocco, light fires of straw on midsummer eve and leap thrice over them to and fro. they let some of the smoke pass underneath their clothes, and married women hold their breasts over the fire, in order that their children may be strong. moreover, they paint their eyes and lips with some black powder, in which ashes of the bonfire are mixed. and in order that their horses may also benefit by the fires, they dip the right forelegs of the animals in the smoke and flames or in the hot embers, and they rub ashes on the foreheads and between the nostrils of the horses. berbers of the rif province, in northern morocco, similarly make great use of fires at midsummer for the good of themselves, their cattle, and their fruit-trees. they jump over the bonfires in the belief that this will preserve them in good health, and they light fires under fruit-trees to keep the fruit from falling untimely. and they imagine that by rubbing a paste of the ashes on their hair they prevent the hair from falling off their heads.[ ] [beneficial effect ascribed to the smoke of the fires; ill luck supposed to be burnt in the midsummer fires; the midsummer festival in north africa comprises rites concerned with water as well as with fire; the midsummer festival in north africa is probably older than mohammedanism.] in all these moroccan customs, we are told, the beneficial effect is attributed wholly to the smoke, which is supposed to be endued with a magical quality that removes misfortune from men, animals, fruit-trees, and crops. but in some parts of morocco people at midsummer kindle fires of a different sort, not for the sake of fumigation, but in order to burn up misfortune in the flames. thus on midsummer eve the berber tribe of the beni mgild burn three sheaves of unthreshed wheat or barley, "one for the children, one for the crops, and one for the animals." on the same occasion they burn the tent of a widow who has never given birth to a child; by so doing they think to rid the village of ill luck. it is said that at midsummer the zemmur burn a tent, which belongs to somebody who was killed in war during a feast; or if there is no such person in the village, the schoolmaster's tent is burned instead. among the arabic-speaking beni ahsen it is customary for those who live near the river sbu to make a little hut of straw at midsummer, set it on fire, and let it float down the river. similarly the inhabitants of salee burn a straw hut on the river which flows past their town.[ ] further it deserves to be noticed that in northern africa, as in southern europe, the midsummer festival comprises rites concerned with water as well as with fire. for example, among the beni-snous the women light a fire in an oven, throw perfumes into it, and circumambulate a tank, which they also incense after a fashion. in many places on the coast, as in the province of oran and particularly in the north of morocco, everybody goes and bathes in the sea at midsummer; and in many towns of the interior, such as fez, mequinez, and especially merrakech, people throw water over each other on this day; and where water is scarce, earth is used instead, according to the mohammedan principle which permits ablutions to be performed with earth or sand when water cannot be spared for the purpose.[ ] people of the andjra district in morocco not only bathe themselves in the sea or in rivers at midsummer, they also bathe their animals, their horses, mules, donkeys, cattle, sheep, and goats; for they think that on that day water possesses a blessed virtue (_baraka_), which removes sickness and misfortune. in aglu, again, men, women, and children bathe in the sea or springs or rivers at midsummer, alleging that by so doing they protect themselves against disease for the whole year. among the berbers of the rif district the custom of bathing on this day is commonly observed, and animals share the ablutions.[ ] [some mohammedans of north africa kindle fires and observe water ceremonies at their movable new year; water ceremonies at new year in morocco; the rites of fire and water at midsummer and new year in morocco seem to be identical in character; the duplication of the festival is probably due to a conflict between the solar calendar of the romans and the lunar calendar of the arabs.] the celebration of a midsummer festival by mohammedan peoples is particularly remarkable, because the mohammedan calendar, being purely lunar and uncorrected by intercalation, necessarily takes no note of festivals which occupy fixed points in the solar year; all strictly mohammedan feasts, being pinned to the moon, slide gradually with that luminary through the whole period of the earth's revolution about the sun. this fact of itself seems to prove that among the mohammedan peoples of northern africa, as among the christian peoples of europe, the midsummer festival is quite independent of the religion which the people publicly profess, and is a relic of a far older paganism. there are, indeed, independent grounds for thinking that the arabs enjoyed the advantage of a comparatively well-regulated solar year before the prophet of god saddled them with the absurdity and inconvenience of a purely lunar calendar.[ ] be that as it may, it is notable that some mohammedan people of north africa kindle fires and bathe in water at the movable new year of their lunar calendar instead of at the fixed midsummer of the solar year; while others again practise these observances at both seasons. new year's day, on which the rites are celebrated, is called _ashur_; it is the tenth day of moharram, the first month of the mohammedan calendar. on that day bonfires are kindled in tunis and also at merrakech and among some tribes of the neighbourhood.[ ] at demnat, in the great atlas mountains, people kindle a large bonfire on new year's eve and leap to and fro over the flames, uttering words which imply that by these leaps they think to purify themselves from all kinds of evil. at aglu, in the province of sus, the fire is lighted at three different points by an unmarried girl, and when it has died down the young men leap over the glowing embers, saying, "we shook on you, o lady ashur, fleas, and lice, and the illnesses of the heart, as also those of the bones; we shall pass through you again next year and the following years with safety and health." both at aglu and glawi, in the great atlas, smaller fires are also kindled, over which the animals are driven. at demnat girls who wish to marry wash themselves in water which has been boiled over the new year fire; and in dukkala people use the ashes of that fire to rub sore eyes with. new year fires appear to be commonly kindled among the berbers who inhabit the western portion of the great atlas, and also among the arabic-speaking tribes of the plains; but dr. westermarck found no traces of such fires among the arabic-speaking mountaineers of northern morocco and the berbers of the rif province. further, it should be observed that water ceremonies like those which are practised at midsummer are very commonly observed in morocco at the new year, that is, on the tenth day of the first month. on the morning of that day (_ashur_) all water or, according to some people, only spring water is endowed with a magical virtue (_baraka_), especially before sunrise. hence at that time the people bathe and pour water over each other; in some places they also sprinkle their animals, tents, or rooms. in dukkala some of the new year water is preserved at home till new year's day (_ashur_) of next year; some of it is kept to be used as medicine, some of it is poured on the place where the corn is threshed, and some is used to water the money which is to be buried in the ground; for the people think that the earth-spirits will not be able to steal the buried treasures which have thus been sanctified with the holy water.[ ] [the midsummer festival in morocco seems to be of berber origin.] thus the rites of fire and water which are observed in morocco at midsummer and new year appear to be identical in character and intention, and it seems certain that the duplication of the rites is due to a conflict between two calendars, namely the old julian calendar of the romans, which was based on the sun, and the newer mohammedan calendar of the arabs, which is based on the moon. for not only was the julian calendar in use throughout the whole of northern africa under the roman empire; to this day it is everywhere employed among mohammedans for the regulation of agriculture and all the affairs of daily life; its practical convenience has made it indispensable, and the lunar calendar of orthodox mohammedanism is scarcely used except for purposes of chronology. even the old latin names of the months are known and employed, in slightly disguised forms, throughout the whole moslem world; and little calendars of the julian year circulate in manuscript among mohammedans, permitting them to combine the practical advantages of pagan science with a nominal adherence to orthodox absurdity.[ ] thus the heathen origin of the midsummer festival is too palpable to escape the attention of good mohammedans, who accordingly frown upon the midsummer bonfires as pagan superstitions, precisely as similar observances in europe have often been denounced by orthodox christianity. indeed, many religious people in morocco entirely disapprove of the whole of the midsummer ceremonies, maintaining that they are all bad; and a conscientious schoolmaster will even refuse his pupils a holiday at midsummer, though the boys sometimes offer him a bribe if he will sacrifice his scruples to his avarice.[ ] as the midsummer customs appear to flourish among all the berbers of morocco but to be unknown among the pure arabs who have not been affected by berber influence, it seems reasonable to infer with dr. westermarck that the midsummer festival has belonged from time immemorial to the berber race, and that so far as it is now observed by the arabs of morocco, it has been learned by them from the berbers, the old indigenous inhabitants of the country. dr. westermarck may also be right in holding that, in spite of the close similarity which obtains between the midsummer festival of europe and the midsummer festival of north africa, the latter is not a copy of the former, but that both have been handed down independently from a time beyond the purview of history, when such ceremonies were common to the mediterranean race.[ ] § . _the autumn fires_ [festivals of fire in august; russian feast of florus and laurus on august th; "living fire" made by the friction of wood.] in the months which elapse between midsummer and the setting in of winter the european festivals of fire appear to be few and unimportant. on the evening of the first day of august, which is the festival of the cross, bonfires are commonly lit in macedonia and boys jump over them, shouting, "dig up! bury!" but whom or what they wish to dig up or bury they do not know.[ ] the russians hold the feast of two martyrs, florus and laurus, on the eighteenth day of august, old style. "on this day the russians lead their horses round the church of their village, beside which on the foregoing evening they dig a hole with two mouths. each horse has a bridle made of the bark of the linden-tree. the horses go through this hole one after the other, opposite to one of the mouths of which the priest stands with a sprinkler in his hand, with which he sprinkles them. as soon as the horses have passed by their bridles are taken off, and they are made to go between two fires that they kindle, called by the russians _givoy agon_, that is to say, living fires, of which i shall give an account. i shall before remark, that the russian peasantry throw the bridles of their horses into one of these fires to be consumed. this is the manner of their lighting these _givoy agon_, or living fires. some men hold the ends of a stick made of the plane-tree, very dry, and about a fathom long. this stick they hold firmly over one of birch, perfectly dry, and rub with violence and quickly against the former; the birch, which is somewhat softer than the plane, in a short time inflames, and serves them to light both the fires i have described."[ ] [feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth of september at capri and naples.] the feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth day of september is celebrated at naples and capri with fireworks, bonfires, and assassinations. on this subject my friend professor a. e. housman, who witnessed the celebration in different years at both places, has kindly furnished me with the following particulars: "in i was in the island of capri on september the eighth, the feast of the nativity of the virgin. the anniversary was duly solemnised by fire-works at nine or ten in the evening, which i suppose were municipal; but just after sundown the boys outside the villages were making small fires of brushwood on waste bits of ground by the wayside. very pretty it looked, with the flames blowing about in the twilight; but what took my attention was the listlessness of the boys and their lack of interest in the proceeding. a single lad, the youngest, would be raking the fire together and keeping it alight, but the rest stood lounging about and looking in every other direction, with the air of discharging mechanically a traditional office from which all zest had evaporated." "the pious orgy at naples on september the eighth went through the following phases when i witnessed it in . it began at eight in the evening with an illumination of the façade of santa maria piedigrotta and with the whole population walking about blowing penny trumpets. after four hours of this i went to bed at midnight, and was lulled to sleep by barrel-organs, which supersede the trumpets about that hour. at four in the morning i was waked by detonations as if the british fleet were bombarding the city, caused, i was afterwards told, by dynamite rockets. the only step possible beyond this is assassination, which accordingly takes place about peep of day: i forget now the number of the slain, but i think the average is eight or ten, and i know that in honour of my presence they murdered a few more than usual." [the feast of the nativity of the virgin may have replaced a pagan festival; the coincidence of the midsummer festival with the summer solstice implies that the founders of the festival regulated their calendar by observation of the sun.] it is no doubt possible that these illuminations and fireworks, like the assassinations, are merely the natural and spontaneous expressions of that overflowing joy with which the thought of the birth of the virgin must fill every pious heart; but when we remember how often the church has skilfully decanted the new wine of christianity into the old bottles of heathendom, we may be allowed to conjecture that the ecclesiastical authorities adroitly timed the nativity of the virgin so as to coincide with an old pagan festival of that day, in which fire, noise, and uproar, if not broken heads and bloodshed, were conspicuous features. the penny trumpets blown on this occasion recall the like melodious instruments which figure so largely in the celebration of befana (the eve of epiphany) at rome.[ ] § . _the hallowe'en fires_ [on the other hand the celts divided their year, not by the solstices, but by the beginning of summer (the first of may) and the beginning of winter (the first of november).] from the foregoing survey we may infer that among the heathen forefathers of the european peoples the most popular and widespread fire-festival of the year was the great celebration of midsummer eve or midsummer day. the coincidence of the festival with the summer solstice can hardly be accidental. rather we must suppose that our pagan ancestors purposely timed the ceremony of fire on earth to coincide with the arrival of the sun at the highest point of his course in the sky. if that was so, it follows that the old founders of the midsummer rites had observed the solstices or turning-points of the sun's apparent path in the sky, and that they accordingly regulated their festal calendar to some extent by astronomical considerations. [the division seems to have been neither astronomical nor agricultural but pastoral, being determined by the times when cattle are driven to and from their summer pasture.] but while this may be regarded as fairly certain for what we may call the aborigines throughout a large part of the continent, it appears not to have been true of the celtic peoples who inhabited the land's end of europe, the islands and promontories that stretch out into the atlantic ocean on the north-west. the principal fire-festivals of the celts, which have survived, though in a restricted area and with diminished pomp, to modern times and even to our own day, were seemingly timed without any reference to the position of the sun in the heaven. they were two in number, and fell at an interval of six months, one being celebrated on the eve of may day and the other on allhallow even or hallowe'en, as it is now commonly called, that is, on the thirty-first of october, the day preceding all saints' or allhallows' day. these dates coincide with none of the four great hinges on which the solar year revolves, to wit, the solstices and the equinoxes. nor do they agree with the principal seasons of the agricultural year, the sowing in spring and the reaping in autumn. for when may day comes, the seed has long been committed to the earth; and when november opens, the harvest has long been reaped and garnered, the fields lie bare, the fruit-trees are stripped, and even the yellow leaves are fast fluttering to the ground. yet the first of may and the first of november mark turning-points of the year in europe; the one ushers in the genial heat and the rich vegetation of summer, the other heralds, if it does not share, the cold and barrenness of winter. now these particular points of the year, as has been well pointed out by a learned and ingenious writer,[ ] while they are of comparatively little moment to the european husbandman, do deeply concern the european herdsman; for it is on the approach of summer that he drives his cattle out into the open to crop the fresh grass, and it is on the approach of winter that he leads them back to the safety and shelter of the stall. accordingly it seems not improbable that the celtic bisection of the year into two halves at the beginning of may and the beginning of november dates from a time when the celts were mainly a pastoral people, dependent for their subsistence on their herds, and when accordingly the great epochs of the year for them were the days on which the cattle went forth from the homestead in early summer and returned to it again in early winter.[ ] even in central europe, remote from the region now occupied by the celts, a similar bisection of the year may be clearly traced in the great popularity, on the one hand, of may day and its eve (walpurgis night), and, on the other hand, of the feast of all souls at the beginning of november, which under a thin christian cloak conceals an ancient pagan festival of the dead.[ ] hence we may conjecture that everywhere throughout europe the celestial division of the year according to the solstices was preceded by what we may call a terrestrial division of the year according to the beginning of summer and the beginning of winter. [the two great celtic festivals, beltane and hallowe'en.] be that as it may, the two great celtic festivals of may day and the first of november or, to be more accurate, the eves of these two days, closely resemble each other in the manner of their celebration and in the superstitions associated with them, and alike, by the antique character impressed upon both, betray a remote and purely pagan origin. the festival of may day or beltane, as the celts called it, which ushered in summer, has already been described;[ ] it remains to give some account of the corresponding festival of hallowe'en, which announced the arrival of winter. [hallowe'en (the evening of october st) seems to have marked the beginning of the celtic year; the many forms of divination resorted to at hallowe'en are appropriate to the beginning of a new year; hallowe'en also a festival of the dead.] of the two feasts hallowe'en was perhaps of old the more important, since the celts would seem to have dated the beginning of the year from it rather than from beltane. in the isle of man, one of the fortresses in which the celtic language and lore longest held out against the siege of the saxon invaders, the first of november, old style, has been regarded as new year's day down to recent times. thus manx mummers used to go round on hallowe'en (old style), singing, in the manx language, a sort of hogmanay song which began "to-night is new year's night, _hog-unnaa_!"[ ] one of sir john rhys's manx informants, an old man of sixty-seven, "had been a farm servant from the age of sixteen till he was twenty-six to the same man, near regaby, in the parish of andreas, and he remembers his master and a near neighbour of his discussing the term new year's day as applied to the first of november, and explaining to the younger men that it had always been so in old times. in fact, it seemed to him natural enough, as all tenure of land ends at that time, and as all servant men begin their service then."[ ] in ancient ireland, as we saw, a new fire used to be kindled every year on hallowe'en or the eve of samhain, and from this sacred flame all the fires in ireland were rekindled.[ ] such a custom points strongly to samhain or all saints' day (the first of november) as new year's day; since the annual kindling of a new fire takes place most naturally at the beginning of the year, in order that the blessed influence of the fresh fire may last throughout the whole period of twelve months. another confirmation of the view that the celts dated their year from the first of november is furnished by the manifold modes of divination which, as we shall see presently, were commonly resorted to by celtic peoples on hallowe'en for the purpose of ascertaining their destiny, especially their fortune in the coming year; for when could these devices for prying into the future be more reasonably put in practice than at the beginning of the year? as a season of omens and auguries hallowe'en seems to have far surpassed beltane in the imagination of the celts; from which we may with some probability infer that they reckoned their year from hallowe'en rather than beltane. another circumstance of great moment which points to the same conclusion is the association of the dead with hallowe'en. not only among the celts but throughout europe, hallowe'en, the night which marks the transition from autumn to winter, seems to have been of old the time of year when the souls of the departed were supposed to revisit their old homes in order to warm themselves by the fire and to comfort themselves with the good cheer provided for them in the kitchen or the parlour by their affectionate kinsfolk.[ ] it was, perhaps, a natural thought that the approach of winter should drive the poor shivering hungry ghosts from the bare fields and the leafless woodlands to the shelter of the cottage with its familiar fireside.[ ] did not the lowing kine then troop back from the summer pastures in the forests and on the hills to be fed and cared for in the stalls, while the bleak winds whistled among the swaying boughs and the snow drifts deepened in the hollows? and could the good-man and the good-wife deny to the spirits of their dead the welcome which they gave to the cows? [fairies and hobgoblins let loose at hallowe'en.] but it is not only the souls of the departed who are supposed to be hovering unseen on the day "when autumn to winter resigns the pale year." witches then speed on their errands of mischief, some sweeping through the air on besoms, others galloping along the roads on tabby-cats, which for that evening are turned into coal-black steeds.[ ] the fairies, too, are all let loose, and hobgoblins of every sort roam freely about in south uist and eriskay there is a saying:-- "_hallowe'en will come, will come, witchcraft [or divination] will be set agoing, fairies will be at full speed, running in every pass. avoid the road, children, children_."[ ] [dancing with the fairies at hallowe'en.] in cardiganshire on november eve a bogie sits on every stile.[ ] on that night in ireland all the fairy hills are thrown wide open and the fairies swarm forth; any man who is bold enough may then peep into the open green hills and see the treasures hidden in them. worse than that, the cave of cruachan in connaught, known as "the hell-gate of ireland," is unbarred on samhain eve or hallowe'en, and a host of horrible fiends and goblins used to rush forth, particularly a flock of copper-red birds, which blighted crops and killed animals by their poisonous breath.[ ] the scotch highlanders have a special name _samhanach_ (derived from _samhain_, "all-hallows") for the dreadful bogies that go about that night stealing babies and committing other atrocities.[ ] and though the fairies are a kindlier folk, it is dangerous to see even them at their revels on hallowe'en. a melancholy case of this sort is reported from the ferintosh district of the highlands, though others say that it happened at the slope of big stones in harris. two young men were coming home after nightfall on hallowe'en, each with a jar of whisky on his back, when they saw, as they thought, a house all lit up by the roadside, from which proceeded the sounds of music and dancing. in reality it was not a house at all but a fairy knoll, and it was the fairies who were jigging it about there so merrily. but one of the young men was deceived and stepping into the house joined in the dance, without even stopping to put down the jar of whisky. his companion was wiser; he had a shrewd suspicion that the place was not what it seemed, and on entering he took the precaution of sticking a needle in the door. that disarmed the power of the fairies, and he got away safely. well, that day twelve months he came back to the spot and what should he see but his poor friend still dancing away with the jar of whisky on his back? a weary man was he, as you may well believe, but he begged to be allowed to finish the reel which he was in the act of executing, and when they took him out into the open air, there was nothing of him left but skin and bones.[ ] again, the wicked fairies are apt to carry off men's wives with them to fairyland; but the lost spouses can be recovered within a year and a day when the procession of the fairies is defiling past on hallowe'en, always provided that the mortals did not partake of elfin food while they were in elfinland.[ ] [guleesh and the revels of the fairies at hallowe'en.] sometimes valuable information may be obtained from the fairies on hallowe'en. there was a young man named guleesh in the county of mayo. near his house was a _rath_ or old fort with a fine grass bank running round it. one hallowe'en, when the darkness was falling, guleesh went to the rath and stood on a gray old flag. the night was calm and still; there was not a breath of wind stirring, nor a sound to be heard except the hum of the insects flitting past, or the whistle of the plovers, or the hoarse scream of the wild geese as they winged their way far overhead. above the white fog the moon rose like a knob of fire in the east, and a thousand thousand stars were twinkling in the sky. there was a little frost in the air, the grass was white and crisp and crackled under foot. guleesh expected to see the fairies, but they did not come. hour after hour wore away, and he was just bethinking him of going home to bed, when his ear caught a sound far off coming towards him, and he knew what it was in a moment. the sound grew louder and louder; at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, then it was like the roar of a waterfall, at last it was like a mighty rushing wind in the tops of the trees, then the storm burst upon the rath, and sure enough the fairies were in it. the rout went by so suddenly that guleesh lost his breath; but he came to himself and listened. the fairies were now gathered within the grassy bank of the rath, and a fine uproar they made. but guleesh listened with all his ears, and he heard one fairy saying to another that a magic herb grew by guleesh's own door, and that guleesh had nothing to do but pluck it and boil it and give it to his sweetheart, the daughter of the king of france, and she would be well, for just then she was lying very ill. guleesh took the hint, and everything went as the fairy had said. and he married the daughter of the king of france; and they had never a cark nor a care, a sickness nor a sorrow, a mishap nor a misfortune to the day of their death.[ ] [divination resorted to in celtic countries at hallowe'en.] in all celtic countries hallowe'en seems to have been the great season of the year for prying into the future; all kinds of divination were put in practice that night. we read that dathi, a king of ireland in the fifth century, happening to be at the druids' hill (_cnoc-nan-druad_) in the county of sligo one hallowe'en, ordered his druid to forecast for him the future from that day till the next hallowe'en should come round. the druid passed the night on the top of the hill, and next morning made a prediction to the king which came true.[ ] in wales hallowe'en was the weirdest of all the _teir nos ysbrydion_, or three spirit nights, when the wind, "blowing over the feet of the corpses," bore sighs to the houses of those who were to die within the year. people thought that if on that night they went out to a cross-road and listened to the wind, they would learn all the most important things that would befall them during the next twelve months.[ ] in wales, too, not so long ago women used to congregate in the parish churches on the night of hallowe'en and read their fate from the flame of the candle which each of them held in her hand; also they heard the names or saw the coffins of the parishioners who would die within the year, and many were the sad scenes to which these gloomy visions gave rise.[ ] and in the highlands of scotland anybody who pleased could hear proclaimed aloud the names of parishioners doomed to perish within the next twelve months, if he would only take a three-legged stool and go and sit on it at three cross-roads, while the church clock was striking twelve at midnight on hallowe'en. it was even in his power to save the destined victims from their doom by taking with him articles of wearing apparel and throwing them away, one by one, as each name was called out by the mysterious voice.[ ] [hallowe'en bonfires in the highlands of scotland; john ramsay's account of the hallowe'en bonfires; divination from stones at the fire; hallowe'en fires in the parishes of callander and logierait.] but while a glamour of mystery and awe has always clung to hallowe'en in the minds of the celtic peasantry, the popular celebration of the festival has been, at least in modern times, by no means of a prevailingly gloomy cast; on the contrary it has been attended by picturesque features and merry pastimes, which rendered it the gayest night of all the year. amongst the things which in the highlands of scotland contributed to invest the festival with a romantic beauty were the bonfires which used to blaze at frequent intervals on the heights. "on the last day of autumn children gathered ferns, tar-barrels, the long thin stalks called _gàinisg_, and everything suitable for a bonfire. these were placed in a heap on some eminence near the house, and in the evening set fire to. the fires were called _samhnagan_. there was one for each house, and it was an object of ambition who should have the biggest. whole districts were brilliant with bonfires, and their glare across a highland loch, and from many eminences, formed an exceedingly picturesque scene."[ ] like the beltane fires on the first of may, the hallowe'en bonfires seem to have been kindled most commonly in the perthshire highlands. travelling in the parish of moulin, near pitlochrie, in the year , the englishman thomas pennant writes that "hallow eve is also kept sacred: as soon as it is dark, a person sets fire to a bush of broom fastened round a pole, and, attended with a crowd, runs about the village. he then flings it down, heaps great quantity of combustible matters on it, and makes a great bonfire. a whole tract is thus illuminated at the same time, and makes a fine appearance."[ ] the custom has been described more fully by a scotchman of the eighteenth century, john ramsay of ochtertyre. on the evening of hallowe'en "the young people of every hamlet assembled upon some eminence near the houses. there they made a bonfire of ferns or other fuel, cut the same day, which from the feast was called _samh-nag_ or _savnag_, a fire of rest and pleasure. around it was placed a circle of stones, one for each person of the families to whom they belonged. and when it grew dark the bonfire was kindled, at which a loud shout was set up. then each person taking a torch of ferns or sticks in his hand, ran round the fire exulting; and sometimes they went into the adjacent fields, where, if there was another company, they visited the bonfire, taunting the others if inferior in any respect to themselves. after the fire was burned out they returned home, where a feast was prepared, and the remainder of the evening was spent in mirth and diversions of various kinds. next morning they repaired betimes to the bonfire, where the situation of the stones was examined with much attention. if any of them were misplaced, or if the print of a foot could be discerned near any particular stone, it was imagined that the person for whom it was set would not live out the year. of late years this is less attended to, but about the beginning of the present century it was regarded as a sure prediction. the hallowe'en fire is still kept up in some parts of the low country; but on the western coast and in the isles it is never kindled, though the night is spent in merriment and entertainments."[ ] in the perthshire parish of callander, which includes the now famous pass of the trossachs opening out on the winding and wooded shores of the lovely loch katrine, the hallowe'en bonfires were still kindled down to near the end of the eighteenth century. when the fire had died down, the ashes were carefully collected in the form of a circle, and a stone was put in, near the circumference, for every person of the several families interested in the bonfire. next morning, if any of these stones was found to be displaced or injured, the people made sure that the person represented by it was _fey_ or devoted, and that he could not live twelve months from that day.[ ] in the parish of logierait, which covers the beautiful valley of the tummel, one of the fairest regions of all scotland, the hallowe'en fire was somewhat different. faggots of heath, broom, and the dressings of flax were kindled and carried on poles by men, who ran with them round the villages, attended by a crowd. as soon as one faggot was burnt out, a fresh one was lighted and fastened to the pole. numbers of these blazing faggots were often carried about together, and when the night happened to be dark, they formed a splendid illumination.[ ] [hallowe'en fires on loch tay; hallowe'en fires at balquhidder.] nor did the hallowe'en fires die out in perthshire with the end of the eighteenth century. journeying from dunkeld to aberfeldy on hallowe'en in the first half of the nineteenth century, sheriff barclay counted thirty fires blazing on the hill tops, and saw the figures of the people dancing like phantoms round the flames.[ ] again, "in , i was residing near the head of loch tay during the season of the hallowe'en feast. for several days before hallowe'en, boys and youths collected wood and conveyed it to the most prominent places on the hill sides in their neighbourhood. some of the heaps were as large as a corn-stack or hayrick. after dark on hallowe'en, these heaps were kindled, and for several hours both sides of loch tay were illuminated as far as the eye could see. i was told by old men that at the beginning of this century men as well as boys took part in getting up the bonfires, and that, when the fire was ablaze, all joined hands and danced round the fire, and made a great noise; but that, as these gatherings generally ended in drunkenness and rough and dangerous fun, the ministers set their faces against the observance, and were seconded in their efforts by the more intelligent and well-behaved in the community; and so the practice was discontinued by adults and relegated to school boys."[ ] at balquhidder down to the latter part of the nineteenth century each household kindled its bonfire at hallowe'en, but the custom was chiefly observed by children. the fires were lighted on any high knoll near the house; there was no dancing round them.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in buchan to burn the witches; processions with torches at hallowe'en in the braemar highlands.] hallowe'en fires were also lighted in some districts of the north-east of scotland, such as buchan. villagers and farmers alike must have their fire. in the villages the boys went from house to house and begged a peat from each householder, usually with the words, "ge's a peat t' burn the witches." in some villages the lads collected the peats in a cart, some of them drawing it along and the others receiving the peats and loading them on the cart. along with the peats they accumulated straw, furze, potato haulm, everything that would burn quickly, and when they had got enough they piled it all in a heap and set it on fire. then each of the youths, one after another, laid himself down on the ground as near to the fire as he could without being scorched, and thus lying allowed the smoke to roll over him. the others ran through the smoke and jumped over their prostrate comrade. when the heap was burned down, they scattered the ashes. each one took a share in this part of the ceremony, giving a kick first with the right foot and then with the left; and each vied with the other who should scatter the most. after that some of them still continued to run through the scattered ashes and to pelt each other with the half-burned peats. at each farm a spot as high as possible, not too near the steading, was chosen for the fire, and the proceedings were much the same as at the village bonfire. the lads of one farm, when their own fire was burned down and the ashes scattered, sometimes went to a neighbouring fire and helped to kick the ashes about.[ ] referring to this part of scotland, a writer at the end of the eighteenth century observes that "the hallow-even fire, another relict of druidism, was kindled in buchan. various magic ceremonies were then celebrated to counteract the influence of witches and demons, and to prognosticate to the young their success or disappointment in the matrimonial lottery. these being devoutly finished, the hallow fire was kindled, and guarded by the male part of the family. societies were formed, either by pique or humour, to scatter certain fires, and the attack and defence were often conducted with art and with fury."[ ] down to about the middle of the nineteenth century "the braemar highlanders made the circuit of their fields with lighted torches at hallowe'en to ensure their fertility in the coming year. at that date the custom was as follows: every member of the family (in those days households were larger than they are now) was provided with a bundle of fir 'can'les' with which to go the round. the father and mother stood at the hearth and lit the splints in the peat fire, which they passed to the children and servants, who trooped out one after the other, and proceeded to tread the bounds of their little property, going slowly round at equal distances apart, and invariably with the sun. to go 'withershins' seems to have been reserved for cursing and excommunication. when the fields had thus been circumambulated the remaining spills were thrown together in a heap and allowed to burn out."[ ] [divination at hallow-e'en in the highlands and lowlands of scotland; the stolen kail; sowing hemp seed; the winnowing basket; the wet shirt; the thrown shoe.] in the highlands of scotland, as the evening of hallowe'en wore on, young people gathered in one of the houses and resorted to an almost endless variety of games, or rather forms of divination, for the purpose of ascertaining the future fate of each member of the company. were they to marry or remain single, was the marriage to take place that year or never, who was to be married first, what sort of husband or wife she or he was to get, the name, the trade, the colour of the hair, the amount of property of the future spouse--these were questions that were eagerly canvassed and the answers to them furnished never-failing entertainment.[ ] nor were these modes of divination at hallowe'en confined to the highlands, where the bonfires were kindled; they were practised with equal faith and in practically the same forms in the lowlands, as we learn, for example, from burns's poem _hallowe'en_, which describes the auguries drawn from a variety of omens by the ayrshire peasantry. these lowlanders of saxon descent may well have inherited the rites from the celts who preceded them in the possession of the south country. a common practice at hallowe'en was to go out stealthily to a neighbour's kailyard and there, with shut eyes, to pull up the first kail stock that came to hand. it was necessary that the plants should be stolen without the knowledge or consent of their owner; otherwise they were quite useless for the purpose of divination. strictly speaking, too, the neighbour upon whose garden the raid was made should be unmarried, whether a bachelor or a spinster. the stolen kail was taken home and examined, and according to its height, shape, and features would be the height, shape, and features of the future husband or wife. the taste of the _custock_, that is, the heart of the stem, was an infallible indication of his or her temper; and a clod of earth adhering to the root signified, in proportion to its size, the amount of property which he or she would bring to the common stock. then the kail-stock or _runt_, as it was called in ayrshire, was placed over the lintel of the door; and the baptismal name of the young man or woman who first entered the door after the kail was in position would be the baptismal name of the husband or wife.[ ] again, young women sowed hemp seed over nine ridges of ploughed land, saying, "i sow hemp seed, and he who is to be my husband, let him come and harrow it." on looking back over her left shoulder the girl would see the figure of her future mate behind her in the darkness. in the north-east of scotland lint seed was used instead of hemp seed and answered the purpose quite as well.[ ] again, a mode of ascertaining your future husband or wife was this. take a clue of blue yarn and go to a lime-kiln. throw the clue into the kiln, but keep one end of the thread in your hand and wind it on to another clue. as you come near the end somebody or something will hold the other end tight in the kiln. then you call out, "who holds?" giving the thread at the same time a gentle pull. some one or something will thereupon pull the other end of the thread, and a voice will mention the name of your future husband or wife.[ ] another way is this. go to the barn alone and secretly. be sure to open both doors and if possible take them off their hinges; for if the being who is about to appear should catch you in the barn and clap the doors to on you, he or she might do you a mischief. having done this, take the sieve or winnowing-basket, which in lowland scotch is called a _wecht_ or _waicht_, and go through the action of winnowing corn. repeat it thrice, and at the third time the apparition of your future husband or wife will pass through the barn, entering at the windy door and passing out at the other.[ ] or this. go to a southward running stream, where the lands of three lairds meet, or to a ford where the dead and living have crossed. dip the left sleeve of your shirt in the water. then go home, take off the shirt, hang it up before a fire to dry, and go to bed, taking care that the bed stands so that you can see your shirt hanging before the fire. keep awake, and at midnight you will see the form of your future spouse come into the room and turn the other side of the sleeve to the fire to dry it.[ ] a highland form of divination at hallowe'en is to take a shoe by the tip and throw it over the house, then observe the direction in which the toe points as it lies on the ground on the other side; for in that direction you are destined to go before long. if the shoe should fall sole uppermost, it is very unlucky for you.[ ] [the white of eggs in water; the names on the chimney piece; the nuts in the fire; the milk and meal; the apples in the water; the three plates.] these ways of prying into the future are practised outside of the house; others are observed in the kitchen or the parlour before the cheerful blaze of the fire. thus the white of eggs, dropped in a glass of pure water, indicates by certain marks how many children a person will have. the impatience and clamour of the children, eager to ascertain the exact number of their future progeny, often induced the housewife to perform this ceremony for them by daylight; and the kindly mother, standing with her face to the window, dropping the white of an egg into a crystal glass of clean water, and surrounded by a group of children intently watching her proceedings, made up a pretty picture.[ ] when the fun of the evening had fairly commenced, the names of eligible or likely matches were written on the chimney-piece, and the young man who wished to try his fortune was led up blindfolded to the list. whatever name he put his finger on would prove that of his future wife.[ ] again, two nuts, representing a lad and a lass whose names were announced to the company, were put side by side in the fire. if they burned quietly together, the pair would be man and wife, and from the length of time they burned and the brightness of the flame the length and happiness of the married life of the two were augured. but if instead of burning together one of the nuts leaped away from the other, then there would be no marriage, and the blame would rest with the person whose nut had thus started away by itself.[ ] again, a dish of milk and meal (in gaelic _fuarag_, in lowland scotch _crowdie_) or of beat potatoes was made and a ring was hidden in it. spoons were served out to the company, who supped the contents of the dish hastily with them, and the one who got the ring would be the first to be married.[ ] again, apples and a silver sixpence were put in a tub of water; the apples naturally floated on the top and the sixpence sank to the bottom. whoever could lift an apple or the sixpence from the water with his mouth, without using his teeth, was counted very lucky and got the prize to himself.[ ] again, three plates or basins were placed on the hearth. one was filled with clean water, another with dirty water, and the third was empty. the enquirer was blindfolded, knelt in front of the hearth, and groped about till he put his finger in one of them. if he lighted on the plate with the clean water, he would wed a maid; if on the plate with the dirty water, he would marry a widow; and if on the empty plate, he would remain a bachelor. for a girl the answer of the oracle was analogous; she would marry a bachelor, a widower, or nobody according to the plate into which she chanced to dip her finger. but to make sure, the operation had to be repeated thrice, the position of the plates being changed each time. if the enquirer put his or her finger into the same plate thrice or even twice, it was quite conclusive.[ ] [the sliced apple; the white of egg in water; the salt cake or salt herring.] these forms of divination in the house were practised by the company in a body; but the following had to be performed by the person alone. you took an apple and stood with it in your hand in front of a looking-glass. then you sliced the apple, stuck each slice on the point of the knife, and held it over your left shoulder, while you looked into the glass and combed your hair. the spectre of your future husband would then appear in the mirror stretching forth his hand to take the slices of the apple over your shoulder. some say that the number of slices should be nine, that you should eat the first eight yourself, and only throw the ninth over your left shoulder for your husband; also that at each slice you should say, "in the name of the father and the son."[ ] again, take an egg, prick it with a pin, and let the white drop into a wine-glass nearly full of water. take some of this in your mouth and go out for a walk. the first name you hear called out aloud will be that of your future husband or wife. an old woman told a lady that she had tried this mode of divination in her youth, that the name of archibald "came up as it were from the very ground," and that archibald sure enough was the name of her husband.[ ] in south uist and eriskay, two of the outer hebrides, a salt cake called _bonnach salainn_ is eaten at hallowe'en to induce dreams that will reveal the future. it is baked of common meal with a great deal of salt. after eating it you may not drink water nor utter a word, not even to say your prayers. a salt herring, eaten bones and all in three bites, is equally efficacious, always provided that you drink no water and hold your tongue.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in wales; omens drawn from stones thrown into the fire; divination by stones in the ashes.] in the northern part of wales it used to be customary for every family to make a great bonfire called _coel coeth_ on hallowe'en. the fire was kindled on the most conspicuous spot near the house; and when it had nearly gone out everyone threw into the ashes a white stone, which he had first marked. then having said their prayers round the fire, they went to bed. next morning, as soon as they were up, they came to search out the stones, and if any one of them was found to be missing, they had a notion that the person who threw it would die before he saw another hallowe'en.[ ] a writer on wales at the beginning of the nineteenth century says that "the autumnal fire is still kindled in north wales, being on the eve of the first day of november, and is attended by many ceremonies; such as running through the fire and smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off at the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow; then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and apples; catching up an apple suspended by a string with the mouth alone, and the same by an apple in a tub of water: each throwing a nut into the fire; and those that burn bright, betoken prosperity to the owners through the following year, but those that burn black and crackle, denote misfortune. on the following morning the stones are searched for in the fire, and if any be missing, they betide ill to those who threw them in."[ ] according to sir john rhys, the habit of celebrating hallowe'en by lighting bonfires on the hills is perhaps not yet extinct in wales, and men still living can remember how the people who assisted at the bonfires would wait till the last spark was out and then would suddenly take to their heels, shouting at the top of their voices, "the cropped black sow seize the hindmost!" the saying, as sir john rhys justly remarks, implies that originally one of the company became a victim in dead earnest. down to the present time the saying is current in carnarvonshire, where allusions to the cutty black sow are still occasionally made to frighten children.[ ] we can now understand why in lower brittany every person throws a pebble into the midsummer bonfire.[ ] doubtless there, as in wales and the highlands of scotland,[ ] omens of life and death have at one time or other been drawn from the position and state of the pebbles on the morning of all saints' day. the custom, thus found among three separate branches of the celtic stock, probably dates from a period before their dispersion, or at least from a time when alien races had not yet driven home the wedges of separation between them. [divination as to love and marriage at hallowe'en in wales.] in wales, as in scotland, hallowe'en was also the great season for forecasting the future in respect of love and marriage, and some of the forms of divination employed for this purpose resembled those which were in use among the scotch peasantry. two girls, for example, would make a little ladder of yarn, without breaking it from the ball, and having done so they would throw it out of the window. then one of the girls, holding the ball in her hand, would wind the yarn back, repeating a rhyme in welsh. this she did thrice, and as she wound the yarn she would see her future husband climbing up the little ladder. again, three bowls or basins were placed on a table. one of them contained clean water, one dirty water, and one was empty. the girls of the household, and sometimes the boys too, then eagerly tried their fortunes. they were blindfolded, led up to the table, and dipped their hands into a bowl. if they happened to dip into the clean water, they would marry maidens or bachelors; if into the dirty water, they would be widowers or widows; if into the empty bowl, they would live unmarried. again, if a girl, walking backwards, would place a knife among the leeks on hallowe'en, she would see her future husband come and pick up the knife and throw it into the middle of the garden.[ ] [divination at hallowe'en in ireland.] in ireland the hallowe'en bonfires would seem to have died out, but the hallowe'en divination has survived. writing towards the end of the eighteenth century, general vallancey tells us that on hallowe'en or the vigil of saman, as he calls it, "the peasants in ireland assemble with sticks and clubs (the emblems of laceration) going from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, etc., etc., for the feast, repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival, in the name of st. columb kill, desiring them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring forth the black sheep. the good women are employed in making the griddle cake and candles; these last are sent from house to house in the vicinity, and are lighted up on the (saman) next day, before which they pray, or are supposed to pray, for the departed souls of the donor. every house abounds in the best viands they can afford: apples and nuts are devoured in abundance: the nut-shells are burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are foretold: cabbages are torn up by the root: hemp seed is sown by the maidens, and they believe, that if they look back, they will see the apparition of the man intended for their future spouse: they hang a smock before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night, concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will come down the chimney and turn the smock: they throw a ball of yarn out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced, that if they repeat the _pater noster_ backwards, and look at the ball of yarn without, they will then also see his _sith_ or apparition: they dip for apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the mouth: they suspend a cord with a cross-stick, with apples at one point, and candles lighted at the other, and endeavour to catch the apple, while it is in a circular motion, in the mouth. these, and many other superstitious ceremonies, the remains of druidism, are observed on this holiday, which will never be eradicated, while the name of _saman_ is permitted to remain."[ ] [divination at hallow-e'en in queen's county; divination at hallow-e'en in county leitrim; divination at hallowe'en in county roscommon.] in queen's county, ireland, down to the latter part of the nineteenth century children practised various of these rites of divination on hallowe'en. girls went out into the garden blindfold and pulled up cabbages: if the cabbage was well grown, the girl would have a handsome husband, but if it had a crooked stalk, the future spouse would be a stingy old man. nuts, again, were placed in pairs on the bar of the fire, and from their behaviour omens were drawn of the fate in love and marriage of the couple whom they represented. lead, also, was melted and allowed to drop into a tub of cold water, and from the shapes which it assumed in the water predictions were made to the children of their future destiny. again, apples were bobbed for in a tub of water and brought up with the teeth; or a stick was hung from a hook with an apple at one end and a candle at the other, and the stick being made to revolve you made a bite at the apple and sometimes got a mouthful of candle instead.[ ] in county leitrim, also, down to near the end of the nineteenth century various forms of divination were practised at hallowe'en. girls ascertained the character of their future husbands by the help of cabbages just as in queen's county. again, if a girl found a branch of a briar-thorn which had bent over and grown into the ground so as to form a loop, she would creep through the loop thrice late in the evening in the devil's name, then cut the briar and put it under her pillow, all without speaking a word. then she would lay her head on the pillow and dream of the man she was to marry. boys, also, would dream in like manner of love and marriage at hallowe'en, if only they would gather ten leaves of ivy without speaking, throw away one, and put the other nine under their pillow. again, divination was practised by means of a cake called _barm-breac_, in which a nut and a ring were baked. whoever got the ring would be married first; whoever got the nut would marry a widow or a widower; but if the nut were an empty shell, he or she would remain unwed. again, a girl would take a clue of worsted, go to a lime kiln in the gloaming, and throw the clew into the kiln in the devil's name, while she held fast the other end of the thread. then she would rewind the thread and ask, "who holds my clue?" and the name of her future husband would come up from the depth of the kiln. another way was to take a rake, go to a rick and walk round it nine times, saying, "i rake this rick in the devil's name." at the ninth time the wraith of your destined partner for life would come and take the rake out of your hand. once more, before the company separated for the night, they would rake the ashes smooth on the hearth, and search them next morning for tracks, from which they judged whether anybody should come to the house, or leave it, or die in it before another year was out.[ ] in county roscommon, which borders on county leitrim, a cake is made in nearly every house on hallowe'en, and a ring, a coin, a sloe, and a chip of wood are put into it. whoever gets the coin will be rich; whoever gets the ring will be married first; whoever gets the chip of wood, which stands for a coffin, will die first; and whoever gets the sloe will live longest, because the fairies blight the sloes in the hedges on hallowe'en, so that the sloe in the cake will be the last of the year. again, on the same mystic evening girls take nine grains of oats in their mouths, and going out without speaking walk about till they hear a man's name pronounced; it will be the name of their future husband. in county roscommon, too, on hallowe'en there is the usual dipping in water for apples or sixpences, and the usual bites at a revolving apple and tallow candle.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in the isle of man; divination at hallowe'en in the isle of man.] in the isle of man also, another celtic country, hallow-e'en was celebrated down to modern times by the kindling of fires, accompanied with all the usual ceremonies designed to prevent the baneful influence of fairies and witches. bands of young men perambulated the island by night, and at the door of every dwelling-house they struck up a manx rhyme, beginning "_noght oie howney hop-dy-naw_," that is to say, "this is hollantide eve." for hollantide is the manx way of expressing the old english _all hallowen tide_, that is, all saints' day, the first of november. but as the people reckon this festival according to the old style, hollantide in the isle of man is our twelfth of november. the native manx name for the day is _sauin_ or _laa houney_. potatoes, parsnips and fish, pounded up together and mixed with butter, formed the proper evening meal (_mrastyr_) on hallowe'en in the isle of man.[ ] here, too, as in scotland forms of divination are practised by some people on this important evening. for example, the housewife fills a thimble full of salt for each member of the family and each guest; the contents of the thimblefuls are emptied out in as many neat little piles on a plate, and left there over night. next morning the piles are examined, and if any of them has fallen down, he or she whom it represents will die within the year. again, the women carefully sweep out the ashes from under the fireplace and flatten them down neatly on the open hearth. if they find next morning a footprint turned towards the door, it signifies a death in the family within the year; but if the footprint is turned in the opposite direction, it bodes a marriage. again, divination by eavesdropping is practised in the isle of man in much the same way as in scotland. you go out with your mouth full of water and your hands full of salt and listen at a neighbour's door, and the first name you hear will be the name of your husband. again, manx maids bandage their eyes and grope about the room till they dip their hands in vessels full of clean or dirty water, and so on; and from the thing they touch they draw corresponding omens. but some people in the isle of man observe these auguries, not on hallowe'en or hollantide eve, as they call it, which was the old manx new year's eve, but on the modern new year's eve, that is, on the thirty-first of december. the change no doubt marks a transition from the ancient to the modern mode of dating the beginning of the year.[ ] [hallowe'en fires and divination in lancashire; candles lighted to keep off the witches; divination at hallowe'en in northumberland; hallowe'en fires in france.] in lancashire, also, some traces of the old celtic celebration of hallowe'en have been reported in modern times. it is said that "fires are still lighted in lancashire, on hallowe'en, under the name of beltains or teanlas; and even such cakes as the jews are said to have made in honour of the queen of heaven, are yet to be found at this season amongst the inhabitants of the banks of the ribble.... both the fires and the cakes, however, are now connected with superstitious notions respecting purgatory, etc."[ ] on hallowe'en, too, the lancashire maiden "strews the ashes which are to take the form of one or more letters of her lover's name; she throws hemp-seed over her shoulder and timidly glances to see who follows her."[ ] again, witches in lancashire used to gather on hallowe'en at the malkin tower, a ruined and desolate farm-house in the forest of pendle. they assembled for no good purpose; but you could keep the infernal rout at bay by carrying a lighted candle about the fells from eleven to twelve o'clock at night. the witches tried to blow out the candle, and if they succeeded, so much the worse for you; but if the flame burned steadily till the clocks had struck midnight, you were safe. some people performed the ceremony by deputy; and parties went about from house to house in the evening collecting candles, one for each inmate, and offering their services to _late_ or _leet_ the witches, as the phrase ran. this custom was practised at longridge fell in the early part of the nineteenth century.[ ] in northumberland on hallowe'en omens of marriage were drawn from nuts thrown into the fire; and the sports of ducking for apples and biting at a revolving apple and lighted candle were also practised on that evening.[ ] the equivalent of the hallowe'en bonfires is reported also from france. we are told that in the department of deux-sèvres, which forms part of the old province of poitou, young people used to assemble in the fields on all saints' day (the first of november) and kindle great fires of ferns, thorns, leaves, and stubble, at which they roasted chestnuts. they also danced round the fires and indulged in noisy pastimes.[ ] § . _the midwinter fires_ [a midwinter festival of fire; christmas the continuation of an old heathen festival of the sun.] if the heathen of ancient europe celebrated, as we have good reason to believe, the season of midsummer with a great festival of fire, of which the traces have survived in many places down to our own time, it is natural to suppose that they should have observed with similar rites the corresponding season of midwinter; for midsummer and midwinter, or, in more technical language, the summer solstice and the winter solstice, are the two great turning-points in the sun's apparent course through the sky, and from the standpoint of primitive man nothing might seem more appropriate than to kindle fires on earth at the two moments when the fire and heat of the great luminary in heaven begin to wane or to wax. in this way the savage philosopher, to whose meditations on the nature of things we owe many ancient customs and ceremonies, might easily imagine that he helped the labouring sun to relight his dying lamp, or at all events to blow up the flame into a brighter blaze. certain it is that the winter solstice, which the ancients erroneously assigned to the twenty-fifth of december, was celebrated in antiquity as the birthday of the sun, and that festal lights or fires were kindled on this joyful occasion. our christmas festival is nothing but a continuation under a christian name of this old solar festivity; for the ecclesiastical authorities saw fit, about the end of the third or the beginning of the fourth century, arbitrarily to transfer the nativity of christ from the sixth of january to the twenty-fifth of december, for the purpose of diverting to their lord the worship which the heathen had hitherto paid on that day to the sun.[ ] [the yule log is the midwinter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire.] in modern christendom the ancient fire-festival of the winter solstice appears to survive, or to have survived down to recent years, in the old custom of the yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called in england.[ ] the custom was widespread in europe, but seems to have flourished especially in england, france, and among the south slavs; at least the fullest accounts of the custom come from these quarters. that the yule log was only the winter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire, kindled within doors instead of in the open air on account of the cold and inclement weather of the season, was pointed out long ago by our english antiquary john brand;[ ] and the view is supported by the many quaint superstitions attaching to the yule log, superstitions which have no apparent connexion with christianity but carry their heathen origin plainly stamped upon them. but while the two solstitial celebrations were both festivals of fire, the necessity or desirability of holding the winter celebration within doors lent it the character of a private or domestic festivity, which contrasts strongly with the publicity of the summer celebration, at which the people gathered on some open space or conspicuous height, kindled a huge bonfire in common, and danced and made merry round it together. [the yule log in germany; the yule log in switzerland.] among the germans the custom of the yule log is known to have been observed in the eleventh century; for in the year the parish priest of ahlen, in münsterland, spoke of "bringing a tree to kindle the festal fire at the lord's nativity."[ ] down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the old rite was kept up in some parts of central germany, as we learn from an account of it given by a contemporary writer. after mentioning the custom of feeding the cattle and shaking the fruit-trees on christmas night, to make them bear fruit, he goes on as follows: "other customs pointing back to the far-off times of heathendom may still be met with among the old-fashioned peasants of the mountain regions. such is in the valleys of the sieg and lahn the practice of laying a new log as a foundation of the hearth. a heavy block of oak-wood, generally a stump grubbed up from the ground, is fitted either into the floor of the hearth, or into a niche made for the purpose in the wall under the hook on which the kettle hangs. when the fire on the hearth glows, this block of wood glows too, but it is so placed that it is hardly reduced to ashes within a year. when the new foundation is laid, the remains of the old block are carefully taken out, ground to powder, and strewed over the fields during the twelve nights. this, so people fancied, promotes the fruitfulness of the year's crops."[ ] in some parts of the eifel mountains, to the west of coblentz, a log of wood called the _christbrand_ used to be placed on the hearth on christmas eve; and the charred remains of it on twelfth night were put in the corn-bin to keep the mice from devouring the corn.[ ] at weidenhausen and girkshausen, in westphalia, the practice was to withdraw the yule log (_christbrand_) from the fire so soon as it was slightly charred; it was then kept carefully to be replaced on the fire whenever a thunder-storm broke, because the people believed that lightning would not strike a house in which the yule log was smouldering.[ ] in some villages near berleburg in westphalia the old custom was to tie up the yule log in the last sheaf cut at harvest.[ ] on christmas eve the peasantry of the oberland, in meiningen, a province of central germany, used to put a great block of wood called the _christklots_ on the fire before they went to bed; it should burn all night, and the charred remains were believed to guard the house for the whole year against the risk of fire, burglary, and other misfortunes.[ ] the yule log seems to be known only in the french-speaking parts of switzerland, where it goes by the usual french name of _bûche de noël_. in the jura mountains of the canton of bern, while the log is burning on the hearth the people sing a blessing over it as follows:-- "_may the log burn! may all good come in! may the women have children and the sheep lambs! white bread for every one and the vat full of wine_!" the embers of the yule log were kept carefully, for they were believed to be a protection against lightning.[ ] [the yule log in belgium.] "the christmas fires, which were formerly lit everywhere in the low countries, have fallen into disuse. but in flanders a great log of wood, called the _kersavondblok_ and usually cut from the roots of a fir or a beech, is still put on the fire; all the lights in the house are extinguished, and the whole family gathers round the log to spend part of the night in singing, in telling stories, especially about ghosts, were-wolves, and so on, and also in drinking gin. at grammont and in the neighbourhood of that town, where the yule log is called _kersmismot_, it is customary to set fire to the remainder of the gin at the moment when the log is reduced to ashes. elsewhere a piece of the log is kept and put under the bed to protect the house against thunder and lightning. the charcoal of the log which burned during christmas night, if pounded up and mixed with water, is a cure for consumption. in the country of limburg the log burns several nights, and the pounded charcoal is kept as a preventive (so they say), of toothache."[ ] [the yule log in france.] in several provinces of france, and particularly in provence, the custom of the yule log or _tréfoir_, as it was called in many places, was long observed. a french writer of the seventeenth century tells us that on christmas eve the log was prepared, and when the whole family had assembled in the kitchen or parlour of the house, they went and brought it in, walking in procession and singing provençal verses to the following effect:-- "_let the log rejoice, to-morrow is the day of bread; let all good enter here; let the women bear children; let the she-goats bring forth kids; let the ewes drop lambs; let there be much wheat and flour, and the vat full of wine_." then the log was blessed by the smallest and youngest child of the house, who poured a glass of wine over it saying, _in nomine patris_, etc.; after which the log was set on the fire. the charcoal of the burnt wood was kept the whole year, and used as an ingredient in several remedies.[ ] [french superstitions as to the yule log.] amongst the superstitions denounced by the same writer is "the belief that a log called the _trefoir_ or christmas brand, which you put on the fire for the first time on christmas eve and continue to put on the fire for a little while every day till twelfth night, can, if kept under the bed, protect the house for a whole year from fire and thunder; that it can prevent the inmates from having chilblains on their heels in winter; that it can cure the cattle of many maladies; that if a piece of it be steeped in the water which cows drink it helps them to calve; and lastly that if the ashes of the log be strewn on the fields it can save the wheat from mildew."[ ] [the yule log at marseilles and in perigord; virtues ascribed to the charcoal and ashes of the burnt log; the yule log in berry.] in marseilles the yule log used to be a great block of oak, which went by the name of _calendeau_ or _calignau_; it was sprinkled with wine and oil, and the head of the house kindled it himself.[ ] "the yule log plays a great part at the festival of the winter solstice in perigord. the countryman thinks that it is best made of plum-tree, cherry, or oak, and that the larger it is the better. if it burns well, it is a good omen, the blessing of heaven rests upon it. the charcoal and ashes, which are collected very carefully, are excellent for healing swollen glands; the part of the trunk which has not been burnt in the fire is used by ploughmen to make the wedge (_técoin ou cale_) for their plough, because they allege that it causes the seeds to thrive better; and the women keep pieces of it till twelfth night for the sake of their chickens. nevertheless if you sit down on the log, you become subject to boils, and to cure yourself of them you must pass nine times under a bramble branch which happens to be rooted in the ground at both ends. the charcoal heals sheep of a disease called the _goumon_; and the ashes, carefully wrapt up in white linen, preserve the whole household from accidents. some people think that they will have as many chickens as there are sparks that fly out of the brands of the log when they shake them; and others place the extinct brands under the bed to drive away vermin. in vienne, on christmas eve, when supper is over, the master of the house has a great log--the christmas brand--brought in, and then, surrounded by all the spectators gathered in profound silence, he sprinkles salt and water on the log. it is then put on the fire to burn during the three festivals; but they carefully preserve a piece to be kindled every time that it thunders."[ ] in berry, a district of central france, the yule log was called the _cosse de nau_, the last word being an abbreviation of the usual french word for christmas (noël). it consisted of an enormous tree-trunk, so heavy that the united strength of several men was needed to carry it in and place it on the hearth, where it served to feed the fire during the three days of the christmas festivity. strictly speaking, it should be the trunk of an old oak-tree which had never been lopped and had been felled at midnight. it was placed on the hearth at the moment when the tinkle of the bell announced the elevation of the host at the midnight mass; and the head of the family, after sprinkling it with holy water, set it on fire. the remains of the log were preserved till the same day next year. they were kept under the bed of the master of the house; and whenever thunder was heard, one of the family would take a piece of the log and throw it on the fire, which was believed to guard the family against lightning. in the middle ages, we are told, several fiefs were granted on condition that the vassal should bring in person a yule log every year for the hearth of his liege lord.[ ] [the yule log in normandy and brittany.] similar customs and beliefs survived till recent years in some of the remote country villages of the picturesque district known as the bocage of normandy. there it was the grandfather or other oldest man of the family who chose the yule log in good time and had it ready for christmas eve. then he placed it on the hearth at the moment when the church bell began to ring for the evening service. kneeling reverently at the hearth with the members of his family in a like attitude of devotion, the old man recited three _pater nosters_ and three _aves_, and invoked the blessing of heaven on the log and on the cottage. then at the sound of the bell which proclaimed the sacrament of the mass, or, if the church was too far off to allow the tinkle of the bell to be heard, at the moment when they judged that the priest was elevating the host before the high altar, the patriarch sprinkled the burning log with holy water, blessed it in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy ghost, and drew it out of the fire. the charred log was then carefully kept till the following christmas as a precious relic which would guard the house against the levin bolt, evil spirits, sorcerers, and every misfortune that might befall in the course of the year.[ ] in the department of orne "the yule-log is called _trefouet_; holy water is poured on it; it should last the three days of the festival, and the remains of it are kept to be put on the fire when it thunders. this brand is a protection both against thunder and against sorcerers."[ ] in upper brittany, also, the yule log is thought to be a safeguard against thunder and lightning. it is sprinkled with holy water on christmas morning and allowed to burn till evening. if a piece of it is thrown into the well, it will ensure a supply of good water.[ ] [the yule log in the ardennes.] "in almost all the families of the ardennes," we are told, "at the present day they never fail to put the yule log on the fireplace, but formerly it was the object of a superstitious worship which is now obsolete. the charred remains of it, placed under the pillow or under the house, preserved the house from storms, and before it was burned the virgin used to come and sit on it, invisible, swaddling the infant jesus. at nouzon, twenty years ago, the traditional log was brought into the kitchen on christmas eve, and the grandmother, with a sprig of box in her hand, sprinkled the log with holy water as soon as the clock struck the first stroke of midnight. as she did so she chanted, '_when christmas comes, every one should rejoice, for it is a new covenant_.' "following the grandmother and joining in the song, the children and the rest of the family marched thrice round the log, which was as fine a log as could be got."[ ] we can now, perhaps, understand why in perigord people who sat on the yule log suffered from boils,[ ] and why in lorraine young folks used to be warned that if they sat on it they would have the scab.[ ] the reason probably was that the virgin and child were supposed to be seated, invisible, upon the log and to resent the indignity of contact with mortal children. [the yule log in the vosges; the yule log in franche-comté and burgundy.] on christmas eve the mountaineers of rupt, in the vosges, also never fail to put on the hearth the largest log which the hearth can hold; they call it _la galeuche de noë_, that is, the yule log. next morning they rake the ashes for any charred fragments and keep them as valuable talismans to guard them against the stroke of lightning. at vagney and other places near it in the vosges it used to be customary on the same evening to grease the hinges and the latches of the doors, that no harsh grating sound should break the slumbers of the infant christ. in the vosges mountains, too, as indeed in many other places, cattle acquired the gift of speech on christmas eve and conversed with each other in the language of christians. their conversation was, indeed, most instructive; for the future, it seems, had no secret worth mentioning for them. yet few people cared to be caught eavesdropping at the byre; wise folk contented themselves with setting a good store of fodder in the manger, then shut the door, and left the animals to their ruminations. a farmer of vecoux once hid in a corner of the byre to overhear the edifying talk of the beasts. but it did him little good; for one ox said to another ox, "what shall we do to-morrow?" and the other replied, "we shall carry our master to the churchyard." sure enough the farmer died that very night and was buried next morning.[ ] in franche-comté, the province of france to the west of the jura mountains, if the yule log is really to protect a house against thunder and lightning, it is essential that it should burn during the midnight mass, and that the flame should not go out before the divine service is concluded. otherwise the log is quite useless for the purpose.[ ] in burgundy the log which is placed on the fire on christmas eve is called the _suche_. while it is burning, the father of the family, assisted by his wife and children, sings christmas carols; and when he has finished, he tells the smallest children to go into a corner of the room and pray god that the log may give them sweeties. the prayer is invariably answered.[ ] [the yule log and the yule candle in england.] in england the customs and beliefs concerning the yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called, used to be similar. on the night of christmas eve, says the antiquary john brand, "our ancestors were wont to light up candles of an uncommon size, called christmas candles, and lay a log of wood upon the fire, called a yule-clog or christmas-block, to illuminate the house, and, as it were, to turn night into day. this custom is, in some measure, still kept up in the north of england. in the buttery of st. john's college, oxford, an ancient candle-socket of stone still remains ornamented with the figure of the holy lamb. it was formerly used to burn the christmas candle in, on the high table at supper, during the twelve nights of that festival."[ ] "a tall mould candle, called a yule candle, is lighted and set on the table; these candles are presented by the chandlers and grocers to their customers. the yule-log is bought of the carpenters' lads. it would be unlucky to light either of them before the time, or to stir the fire or candle during the supper; the candle must not be snuffed, neither must any one stir from the table till supper is ended. in these suppers it is considered unlucky to have an odd number at table. a fragment of the log is occasionally saved, and put under a bed, to remain till next christmas: it secures the house from fire; a small piece of it thrown into a fire occurring at the house of a neighbour, will quell the raging flame. a piece of the candle should likewise be kept to ensure good luck."[ ] in the seventeenth century, as we learn from some verses of herrick, the english custom was to light the yule log with a fragment of its predecessor, which had been kept throughout the year for the purpose; where it was so kept, the fiend could do no mischief.[ ] indeed the practice of preserving a piece of the yule-log of one year to light that of the next was observed by at least one family at cheadle in staffordshire down to the latter part of the nineteenth century.[ ] [the yule-log in yorkshire; the yule log in lincolnshire; the yule log in warwickshire, shropshire, and herefordshire; the yule log in wales.] in the north of england farm-servants used to lay by a large knotty block of wood for the christmas fire, and so long as the block lasted they were entitled by custom to ale at their meals. the log was as large as the hearth could hold.[ ] at belford, in northumberland, "the lord of the manor sends round to every house, on the afternoon of christmas eve, the yule logs--four or five large logs--to be burnt on christmas eve and day. this old custom has always, i am told, been kept up here."[ ] the custom of burning the yule log at christmas used to be observed in wensleydale and other parts of yorkshire, and prudent housewives carefully preserved pieces of the log throughout the year. at whitby the portions so kept were stowed away under the bed till next christmas, when they were burnt with the new log; in the interval they were believed to protect the house from conflagration, and if one of them were thrown into the fire, it would quell a raging storm.[ ] the practice and the belief were similar at filey on the coast of yorkshire, where besides the yule log a tall yule candle was lit on the same evening.[ ] in the west riding, while the log blazed cheerfully, the people quaffed their ale and sang, "yule! yule! a pack of new cards and a christmas stool!"[ ] at clee, in lincolnshire, "when christmas eve has come the yule cake is duly cut and the yule log lit, and i know of some even middle-class houses where the new log must always rest upon and be lighted by the old one, a small portion of which has been carefully stored away to preserve a continuity of light and heat."[ ] at the village of wootton wawen in warwickshire, down to at least, the yule-block, as it was called, was drawn into the house by a horse on christmas eve "as a foundation for the fire on christmas day, and according to the superstition of those times for the twelve days following, as the said block was not to be entirely reduced to ashes till that time had passed by."[ ] as late as , or thereabout, the scene of lighting the hearth-fire on christmas eve, to continue burning throughout the christmas season, might have been witnessed in the secluded and beautiful hill-country of west shropshire, from chirbury and worthen to pulverbatch and pontesbury. the christmas brand or brund, as they called it, was a great trunk of seasoned oak, holly, yew, or crab-tree, drawn by horses to the farm-house door and thence rolled by means of rollers and levers to the back of the wide open hearth, where the fire was made up in front of it. the embers were raked up to it every night, and it was carefully tended, that it might not go out during the whole christmas season. all those days no light might be struck, given, or borrowed. such was the custom at worthen in the early part of the nineteenth century.[ ] in herefordshire the christmas feast "lasted for twelve days, and no work was done. all houses were, and are now, decorated with sprigs of holly and ivy, which must not be brought in until christmas eve. a yule log, as large as the open hearth could accommodate, was brought into the kitchen of each farmhouse, and smaller ones were used in the cottages. w---- p---- said he had seen a tree drawn into the kitchen at kingstone grange years ago by two cart horses; when it had been consumed a small portion was carefully kept to be used for lighting next year's log. 'mother always kept it very carefully; she said it was lucky, and kept the house from fire and from lightning.' it seems to have been the general practice to light it on christmas eve."[ ] "in many parts of wales it is still customary to keep part of the yule-log until the following christmas eve 'for luck.' it is then put into the fireplace and burnt, but before it is consumed the new log is put on, and thus 'the old fire and the new' burn together. in some families this is done from force of habit, and they cannot now tell why they do it; but in the past the observance of this custom was to keep witches away, and doubtless was a survival of fire-worship."[ ] [the yule log in servia; the cutting of the oak tree to form the yule log.] but nowhere, apparently, in europe is the old heathen ritual of the yule log preserved to the present day more perfectly than in servia. at early dawn on christmas eve (_badnyi dan_) every peasant house sends two of its strongest young men to the nearest forest to cut down a young oak tree and bring it home. there, after offering up a short prayer or crossing themselves thrice, they throw a handful of wheat on the chosen oak and greet it with the words, "happy _badnyi_ day to you!" then they cut it down, taking care that it shall fall towards the east at the moment when the sun's orb appears over the rim of the eastern horizon. should the tree fall towards the west, it would be the worst possible omen for the house and its inmates in the ensuing year; and it is also an evil omen if the tree should be caught and stopped in its fall by another tree. it is important to keep and carry home the first chip from the fallen oak. the trunk is sawn into two or three logs, one of them rather longer than the others. a flat, unleavened cake of the purest wheaten flour is brought out of the house and broken on the larger of the logs by a woman. the logs are left for the present to stand outside, leaning on one of the walls of the house. each of them is called a yule log (_badnyak_). [prayers to colleda.] meanwhile the children and young people go from house to house singing special songs called _colleda_ because of an old pagan divinity colleda, who is invoked in every line. in one of them she is spoken of as "a beautiful little maid"; in another she is implored to make the cows yield milk abundantly. the day is spent in busy preparations. the women bake little cakes of a special sort in the shape of lambs, pigs, and chickens; the men make ready a pig for roasting, for in every servian house roast pig is the principal dish at christmas. a bundle of straw, tied with a rope, is brought into the courtyard and left to stand there near the yule logs. [the bringing in of the yule log.] at the moment when the sun is setting all the members of the family assemble in the central hall (the great family kitchen) of the principal house. the mother of the family (or the wife of the chief of the zadrooga)[ ] gives a pair of woollen gloves to one of the young men, who goes out and presently returns carrying in his gloved hands the largest of the logs. the mother receives him at the threshold, throwing at him a handful of wheat, in which the first chip of the oak tree cut in the early morning for the yule log has been kept all day. entering the central hall with the yule log the young man greets all present with the words: "good evening, and may you have a happy christmas!" and they all answer in chorus, "may god and the happy and holy christmas help thee!" in some parts of servia the chief of the family, holding a glass of red wine in his hand, greets the yule log as if it were a living person, and drinks to its health. after that, another glass of red wine is poured on the log. then the oldest male member of the family, assisted by the young man who brought in the log, places it on the burning fire so that the thicker end of the log protrudes for about a foot from the hearth. in some places this end is smeared with honey. [the ceremony with the straw; the yule candle.] next the mother of the family brings in the bundle of straw which was left standing outside. all the young children arrange themselves behind her in a row. she then walks slowly round the hall and the adjoining rooms, throwing handfuls of straw on the floor and imitating the cackling of a hen, while all the children follow her peeping with their lips as if they were chickens cheeping and waddling after the mother bird. when the floor is well strewn with straw, the father or the eldest member of the family throws a few walnuts in every corner of the hall, pronouncing the words: "in the name of god the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, amen!" a large pot, or a small wooden box, filled with wheat is placed high in the east corner of the hall, and a tall candle of yellow wax is stuck in the middle of the wheat. then the father of the family reverently lights the candle and prays god to bless the family with health and happiness, the fields with a good harvest, the beehives with plenty of honey, the cattle and sheep with young, and the cows with abundant milk and rich cream. after that they all sit down to supper, squatting on the floor, for the use of chairs and tables is forbidden on this occasion. [the roast pig; the drawing of the water.] by four o'clock next morning (christmas day) the whole village is astir; indeed most people do not sleep at all that night. it is deemed most important to keep the yule log burning brightly all night long. very early, too, the pig is laid on the fire to roast, and at the same moment one of the family goes out into the yard and fires a pistol or gun; and when the roast pig is removed from the fire the shot is repeated. hence for several hours in the early morning of christmas day such a popping and banging of firearms goes on that a stranger might think a stubborn skirmish was in progress. just before the sun rises a girl goes and draws water at the village spring or at the brook. before she fills her vessels, she wishes the water a happy christmas and throws a handful of wheat into it. the first cupfuls of water she brings home are used to bake a special christmas cake (_chesnitsa_), of which all the members partake at dinner, and portions are kept for absent relatives. a small silver coin is baked in the cake, and he or she who gets it will be lucky during the year. [the christmas visiter (_polaznik_).] all the family gathered round the blazing yule log now anxiously expect the arrival of the special christmas visiter, who bears the title of _polaznik_. he is usually a young boy of a friendly family. no other person, not even the priest or the mayor of the village, would be allowed to set foot in the house before the arrival of this important personage. therefore he ought to come, and generally does come, very early in the morning. he carries a woollen glove full of wheat, and when the door is opened at his knock he throws handfuls of wheat on the family gathered round the hearth, greeting them with the words, "christ is born!" they all answer, "he is born indeed," and the hostess flings a handful of wheat over the christmas visiter, who moreover casts some of his wheat into the corners of the hall as well as upon the people. then he walks straight to the hearth, takes a shovel and strikes the burning log so that a cloud of sparks flies up the chimney, while he says, "may you have this year so many oxen, so many horses, so many sheep, so many pigs, so many beehives full of honey, so much good luck, prosperity, progress, and happiness!" having uttered these good wishes, he embraces and kisses his host. then he turns again to the hearth, and after crossing himself falls on his knees and kisses the projecting part of the yule log. on rising to his feet he places a coin on the log as his gift. meanwhile a low wooden chair has been brought in by a woman, and the visiter is led to it to take his seat. but just as he is about to do so, the chair is jerked away from under him by a male member of the family and he measures his length on the floor. by this fall he is supposed to fix into the ground all the good wishes which he has uttered that morning. the hostess thereupon wraps him in a thick blanket, and he sits quietly muffled in it for a few minutes; the thick blanket in which he is swathed is believed, on the principles of homoeopathic magic, to ensure that the cows will give thick cream next year. while he sits thus enriching the milk of the dairy, the lads who are to herd the sheep in the coming year go to the hearth and kneeling down before it kiss each other across the projecting end of the yule log. by this demonstration of affection they are thought to seal the love of the ewes for their lambs.[ ] [the yule log among the servians of slavonia; the christmas visiter (_polazenik_).] the ritual of the yule log is observed in a similar form by the servians who inhabit the southern provinces of austria. thus in syrmia, a district of slavonia which borders on servia, the head of the house sends out one or two young men on christmas eve to cut the yule log in the nearest forest. on being brought in, the log is not mixed with the ordinary fuel but placed by itself, generally leaning against a fruit-tree till the evening shadows begin to fall. when a man carries it into the kitchen and lays it on the fire, the master of the house throws corn over him, and the two greet each other solemnly the one saying, "christ is born," and the other answering "he is born indeed." later in the evening the master of the house pours a glass of wine on the charred end of the log, whereupon one of the younger men takes the burnt piece of wood, carries it to the orchard, and sets it up against one of the fruit-trees. for this service he is rewarded by the master of the house with a piece of money. on christmas day, when the family is assembled at table, they expect the arrival of the special christmas visiter (called _polazenik_), the only person who is allowed to enter the house that day. when he comes, he goes to the hearth, stirs the fire with the poker and says, "christ is born. may the family enjoy all good luck and happiness in this year! may the cattle increase in number like the sparks i have struck!" as he says these words, the mistress of the house pours corn over him and leads him to the parlour, where he takes the place of honour beside the master of the house. he is treated with marked attention and respect. the family are at pains to entertain him; they sing their best songs for his amusement, and after midnight a numerous band of men and maidens escorts him by torchlight, with songs and jubilation, to his own house.[ ] [the yule log among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro; the yule log in albania.] among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro it is customary on christmas eve (_badnyi dan_) to fetch a great yule log (_badnyak_), which serves as a symbol of family luck. it is generally cut from an evergreen oak, but sometimes from an olive-tree or a beech. at nightfall the master of the house himself brings in the log and lays it on the fire. then he and all present bare their heads, sprinkle the log with wine, and make a cross on it. after that the master of the house says, "welcome, o log! may god keep you from mishap!" so saying he strews peas, maize, raisins, and wheat on the log, praying for god's blessing on all members of the family living and dead, for heaven's blessing on their undertakings, and for domestic prosperity. in montenegro they meet the log with a loaf of bread and a jug of wine, drink to it, and pour wine on it, whereupon the whole family drinks out of the same beaker. in dalmatia and other places, for example in rizano, the yule logs are decked by young women with red silk, flowers, laurel leaves, ribbons, and even gold wire; and the lights near the doorposts are kindled when the log is brought into the house. among the morlaks, as soon as the master of the house crosses the threshold with the yule log, one of the family must sprinkle corn on him and say, "god bless you," to which he answers, "the same to you." a piece of the log is kept till new year's day to kindle a light with or it is carried out to the fields to protect them from hail. it is customary to invite before hand a christmas visitor (_polazaynik_) and to admit no one else into the house on that day. he comes early, carrying in his sleeves a quantity of corn which he throws into the house, saying, "christ is born." one of the household replies, "he is born indeed," and throws corn on the visiter. then the newcomer goes up to the hearth, pokes the fire and strikes the burning log with the poker so hard that sparks fly off in all directions. at each blow he says, "i wish the family as many cows, calves, sucking pigs, goats, and sheep, and as many strokes of good luck, as the sparks that now fly from the log." with these words he throws some small coins into the ashes.[ ] in albania down to recent years it was a common custom to burn a yule log at christmas, and with it corn, maize, and beans; moreover, wine and _rakia_ were poured on the flames, and the ashes of the fire were scattered on the fields to make them fertile.[ ] the huzuls, a slavonic people of the carpathians, kindle fire by the friction of wood on christmas eve (old style, the fifth of january) and keep it burning till twelfth night.[ ] [belief that the yule log protects against fire and lightning.] it is remarkable how common the belief appears to have been that the remains of the yule-log, if kept throughout the year, had power to protect the house against fire and especially against lightning.[ ] as the yule log was frequently of oak,[ ] it seems possible that this belief may be a relic of the old aryan creed which associated the oak-tree with the god of thunder.[ ] whether the curative and fertilizing virtues ascribed to the ashes of the yule log, which are supposed to heal cattle as well as men, to enable cows to calve, and to promote the fruitfulness of the earth,[ ] may not be derived from the same ancient source, is a question which deserves to be considered. [public celebrations of the fire-festival at midwinter; the bonfire on christmas eve at schweina in thuringia.] thus far we have regarded only the private or domestic celebration of the fire-festival at midwinter. the public celebration of such rites at that season of the year appears to have been rare and exceptional in central and northern europe. however, some instances are on record. thus at schweina, in thuringia, down to the second half of the nineteenth century, the young people used to kindle a great bonfire on the antonius mountain every year on christmas eve. neither the civil nor the ecclesiastical authorities were able to suppress the celebration; nor could the cold, rain, and snow of the season damp or chill the enthusiasm of the celebrants. for some time before christmas the young men and boys were busy building a foundation for the bonfire on the top of the mountain, where the oldest church of the village used to stand. the foundation consisted of a pyramidal structure composed of stones, turf, and moss. when christmas eve came round, a strong pole, with bundles of brushwood tied to it, was erected on the pyramid. the young folk also provided themselves with poles to which old brooms or faggots of shavings were attached. these were to serve as torches. when the evening grew dark and the church bells rang to service, the troop of lads ascended the mountain; and soon from the top the glare of the bonfire lit up the darkness, and the sound of a hymn broke the stillness of night. in a circle round the great fire lesser fires were kindled; and last of all the lads ran about swinging their lighted torches, till these twinkling points of fire, moving down the mountain-side, went out one by one in the darkness. at midnight the bells rang out from the church tower, mingled with the blast of horns and the sound of singing. feasting and revelry were kept up throughout the night, and in the morning young and old went to early mass to be edified by hearing of the light eternal.[ ] [bonfires on christmas eve in normandy.] in the bocage of normandy the peasants used to repair, often from a distance of miles, to the churches to hear the midnight mass on christmas eve. they marched in procession by torchlight, chanting christmas carols, and the fitful illumination of the woods, the hedges, and the fields as they moved through the darkness, presented a succession of picturesque scenes. mention is also made of bonfires kindled on the heights; the custom is said to have been observed at athis near condé down to recent years.[ ] [bonfires on st. thomas's day in the isle of man; the "burning of the clavie" at burghead on the last day of december; the old rampart at burghead] in the isle of man, "on the twenty-first of december, a day dedicated to saint thomas, the people went to the mountains to catch deer and sheep for christmas, and in the evenings always kindled a large fire on the top of every _fingan_ or cliff. hence, at the time of casting peats, every one laid aside a large one, saying, '_faaid mooar moayney son oie'l fingan_'; that is, 'a large turf for fingan eve.'"[ ] at burghead, an ancient village on the southern shore of the moray firth, about nine miles from the town of elgin, a festival of fire called "the burning of the clavie" has been celebrated from time immemorial on hogmanay, the last day of december. a tar-barrel is sawn in two, one half of it is set on the top of a stout pole, and filled with tar and other combustibles. the half-barrel is fastened to the pole by means of a long nail, which is made for the purpose and furnished gratuitously by the village blacksmith. the nail must be knocked in with a stone; the use of a hammer is forbidden. when the shades of evening have begun to fall, the clavie, as it is called, is set on fire by means of a burning peat, which is always fetched from the same house; it may not be kindled with a match. as soon as it is in a blaze, it is shouldered by a man, who proceeds to carry it at a run, flaring and dripping melted tar, round the old boundaries of the village; the modern part of the town is not included in the circuit. close at his heels follows a motley crowd, cheering and shouting. one bearer relieves another as each wearies of his burden. the first to shoulder the clavie, which is esteemed an honour, is usually a man who has been lately married. should the bearer stumble or fall, it is deemed a very ill omen for him and for the village. in bygone times it was thought necessary that one man should carry it all round the village; hence the strongest man was chosen for the purpose. moreover it was customary to carry the burning clavie round every fishing-boat and vessel in the harbour; but this part of the ceremony was afterwards discontinued. finally, the blazing tar-barrel is borne to a small hill called the doorie, which rises near the northern end of the promontory. here the pole is fixed into a socket in a pillar of freestone, and fresh fuel is heaped upon the flames, which flare up higher and brighter than ever. formerly the clavie was allowed to burn here the whole night, but now, after blazing for about half an hour, it is lifted from the socket and thrown down the western slope of the hill. then the crowd rushes upon it, demolishes it, and scrambles for the burning, smoking embers, which they carry home and carefully preserve as charms to protect them against witchcraft and misfortune.[ ] the great antiquity of burghead, where this curious and no doubt ancient festival is still annually observed, appears from the remains of a very remarkable rampart which formerly encircled the place. it consists of a mound of earth faced on both sides with a solid wall of stone and strengthened internally by oak beams and planks, the whole being laid on a foundation of boulders. the style of the rampart agrees in general with caesar's description of the mode in which the gauls constructed their walls of earth, stone, and logs,[ ] and it resembles the ruins of gallic fortifications which have been discovered in france, though it is said to surpass them in the strength and solidity of its structure. no similar walls appear to be known in britain. a great part of this interesting prehistoric fortress was barbarously destroyed in the early part of the nineteenth century, much of it being tumbled into the sea and many of the stones used to build the harbour piers.[ ] [procession with burning tar-barrels on christmas eve (old style) at lerwick.] in lerwick, the capital of the shetland islands, "on christmas eve, the fourth of january,--for the old style is still observed--the children go _a guizing_, that is to say, they disguising themselves in the most fantastic and gaudy costumes, parade the streets, and infest the houses and shops, begging for the wherewithal to carry on their christmas amusements. one o'clock on yule morning having struck, the young men turn out in large numbers, dressed in the coarsest of garments, and, at the double-quick march, drag huge tar barrels through the town, shouting and cheering as they go, or blowing loud blasts with their 'louder horns.' the tar barrel simply consists of several--say from four to eight--tubs filled with tar and chips, placed on a platform of wood. it is dragged by means of a chain, to which scores of jubilant youths readily yoke themselves. they have recently been described by the worthy burgh officer of lerwick as 'fiery chariots, the effect of which is truly grand and terrific.' in a christmas morning the dark streets of lerwick are generally lighted up by the bright glare, and its atmosphere blackened by the dense smoke of six or eight tar barrels in succession. on the appearance of daybreak, at six a.m., the morning revellers put off their coarse garments--well begrimed by this time--and in their turn become guizards. they assume every imaginable form of costume--those of soldiers, sailors, highlanders, spanish chevaliers, etc. thus disguised, they either go in pairs, as man and wife, or in larger groups, and proceed to call on their friends, to wish them the compliments of the season. formerly, these adolescent guizards used to seat themselves in crates, and accompanied by fiddlers, were dragged through the town."[ ] [persian festival of fire at the winter solstice.] the persians used to celebrate a festival of fire called _sada_ or _saza_ at the winter solstice. on the longest night of the year they kindled bonfires everywhere, and kings and princes tied dry grass to the feet of birds and animals, set fire to the grass, and then let the birds and beasts fly or run blazing through the air or over the fields and mountains, so that the whole air and earth appeared to be on fire.[ ] § . _the need-fire_ [european festivals of fire in seasons of distress and calamity; the need-fire.] the fire-festivals hitherto described are all celebrated periodically at certain stated times of the year. but besides these regularly recurring celebrations the peasants in many parts of europe have been wont from time immemorial to resort to a ritual of fire at irregular intervals in seasons of distress and calamity, above all when their cattle were attacked by epidemic disease. no account of the popular european fire-festivals would be complete without some notice of these remarkable rites, which have all the greater claim on our attention because they may perhaps be regarded as the source and origin of all the other fire-festivals; certainly they must date from a very remote antiquity. the general name by which they are known among the teutonic peoples is need-fire.[ ] [the needfire in the middle ages; the needfire at neustadt in .] the history of the need-fire can be traced back to early middle ages; for in the reign of pippin, king of franks, the practice of kindling need-fires was denounced as a heathen superstition by a synod of prelates and nobles held under the presidency of boniface, archbishop of mainz.[ ] not long afterwards the custom was again forbidden, along with many more relics of expiring paganism, in an "index of superstitions and heathenish observances," which has been usually referred to the year a.d., though some scholars assign it a later date under the reign of charlemagne.[ ] in germany the need-fires would seem to have been popular down to the second half of the nineteenth century. thus in the year , when a fatal cattle-plague was raging at neustadt, near marburg, a wise man of the name of joh. köhler induced the authorities of the town to adopt the following remedy. a new waggon-wheel was taken and twirled round an axle, which had never been used before, until the friction elicited fire. with this fire a bonfire was next kindled between the gates of the town, and all the cattle were driven through the smoke and flames. moreover, every householder had to rekindle the fire on his hearth by means of a light taken from the bonfire. strange to say, this salutary measure had no effect whatever in staying the cattle-plague, and seven years later the sapient joh. köhler himself was burnt as a witch. the farmers, whose pigs and cows had derived no benefit from the need-fire, perhaps assisted as spectators at the burning, and, while they shook their heads, agreed among themselves that it served joh. köhler perfectly right.[ ] according to a writer who published his book about nine years afterwards, some of the germans, especially in the wassgaw mountains, confidently believed that a cattle-plague could be stayed by driving the animals through a need-fire which had been kindled by the violent friction of a pole on a quantity of dry oak wood; but it was a necessary condition of success that all fires in the village should previously be extinguished with water, and any householder who failed to put out his fire was heavily fined.[ ] [method kindling the need fire.] the method of kindling the need-fire is described as follows by a writer towards the end of the seventeenth century: "when an evil plague has broken out among the cattle, large and small, and the herds have thereby suffered great ravages, the peasants resolve to light a need-fire. on a day appointed there must be no single flame in any house nor on any hearth. from every house a quantity of straw and water and underwood must be brought forth; then a strong oaken pole is fixed firmly in the earth, a hole is bored in it, and a wooden winch, well smeared with pitch and tar, is inserted in the hole and turned round forcibly till great heat and then fire is generated. the fire so produced is caught in fuel and fed with straw, heath, and underwood till it bursts out into a regular need-fire, which must then be somewhat spread out between walls or fences, and the cattle and horses driven through it twice or thrice with sticks and whips. others set up two posts, each with a hole in it, and insert a winch, along with old greasy rags, in the holes. others use a thick rope, collect nine kinds of wood, and keep them in violent motion till fire leaps forth. perhaps there may be other ways of generating or kindling this fire, but they are all directed simply at the cure of the cattle. after passing twice or thrice through the fire the cattle are driven to their stalls or to pasture, and the heap of wood that had been collected is destroyed, but in some places every householder must take with him a brand, extinguish it in a washing-tub or trough, and put it in the manger where the cattle are fed, where it must lie for some time. the poles that were used to make the need-fire, together with the wood that was employed as a winch, are sometimes burned with the rest of the fuel, sometimes carefully preserved after the cattle have been thrice driven through the flames."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire about hildesheim.] sometimes the need-fire was known as the "wild fire," to distinguish it no doubt from the tame fire produced by more ordinary methods. the following is grimm's account of the mode of kindling it which prevailed in some parts of central germany, particularly about hildesheim, down apparently to the first half of the nineteenth century: "in many places of lower saxony, especially among the mountains, the custom prevails of preparing the so-called 'wild fire' for the purpose of preventing cattle-plague; and through it first the pigs, then the cows, and last of all the geese are driven. the proceedings on the occasion are as follows. the principal farmers and parishioners assemble, and notice is served to every inhabitant to extinguish entirely all fire in his house, so that not even a spark remains alight in the whole village. then young and old repair to a road in a hollow, usually towards evening, the women carrying linen, and the men wood and tow. two oaken poles are driven into the ground about a foot and a half from each other. each pole has in the side facing the other a socket into which a cross-piece as thick as a man's arm is fitted. the sockets are stuffed with linen, and the cross-piece is rammed in as tight as possible, while the poles are bound together at the top by ropes. a rope is wound about the round, smooth cross-piece, and the free ends of the rope at both sides are gripped by several persons, who pull the cross-piece to and fro with the utmost rapidity, till through the friction the linen in the sockets takes fire. the sparks of the linen are immediately caught in tow or oakum and waved about in a circle until they burst into a bright glow, when straw is applied to it, and the flaming straw used to kindle the brushwood which has been stacked in piles in the hollow way. when this wood has blazed up and the fire has nearly died out again, the people hasten to the herds, which have been waiting in the background, and drive them forcibly, one after the other, through the glow. as soon as all the beasts are through, the young folk rush wildly at the ashes and cinders, sprinkling and blackening each other with them; those who have been most sprinkled and blackened march in triumph behind the cattle into the village and do not wash themselves for a long time. if after long rubbing the linen should not catch fire, they guess that there is still fire somewhere in the village; then a strict search is made from house to house, any fire that may be found is put out, and the householder is punished or upbraided. the 'wild fire' must be made by prolonged friction; it may not be struck with flint and steel. some villages do not prepare it yearly as a preventive of cattle-plague, but only kindle it when the disease has actually broken out."[ ] in the halberstadt district the ends of the rope which was used to make the cross-piece revolve in the sockets had to be pulled by two chaste young men.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in the mark.] in the mark down to the first half of the nineteenth century the practice was similar. we read that "in many parts of the mark there still prevails on certain occasions the custom of kindling a need-fire, it happens particularly when a farmer has sick pigs. two posts of dry wood are planted in the earth amid solemn silence before the sun rises, and round these posts hempen ropes are pulled to and fro till the wood kindles; whereupon the fire is fed with dry leaves and twigs and the sick beasts are driven through it in some places the fire is produced by the friction of an old cart-wheel."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in mecklenburg] in mecklenburg the need-fire used to be lighted by the friction of a rope wound about an oaken pole or by rubbing two boards against each other. having been thus elicited, the flame was fed with wood of seven kinds. the practice was forbidden by gustavus adolphus, duke of mecklenburg, in ; but the prohibition apparently had little effect, for down to the end of the eighteenth century the custom was so common that the inhabitants even of large towns made no scruple of resorting to it. for example, in the month of july sickness broke out among the cattle belonging to the town of sternberg; some of the beasts died suddenly, and so the people resolved to drive all the survivors through a need-fire. on the tenth day of july the magistrates issued a proclamation announcing that next morning before sunrise a need-fire would be kindled for the behoof of all the cattle of the town, and warning all the inhabitants against lighting fires in their kitchens that evening. so next morning very early, about two o'clock, nearly the whole population was astir, and having assembled outside one of the gates of the town they helped to drive the timid cattle, not without much ado, through three separate need-fires; after which they dispersed to their homes in the unalterable conviction that they had rescued the cattle from destruction. but to make assurance doubly sure they deemed it advisable to administer the rest of the ashes as a bolus to the animals. however, some people in mecklenburg used to strew the ashes of the need-fire on fields for the purpose of protecting the crops against vermin. as late as june a traveller in mecklenburg saw a couple of peasants sweating away at a rope, which they were pulling backwards and forwards so as to make a tarry roller revolve with great speed in the socket of an upright post. asked what they were about, they vouchsafed no reply; but an old woman who appeared on the scene from a neighbouring cottage was more communicative. in the fulness of her heart she confided to the stranger that her pigs were sick, that the two taciturn bumpkins were her sons, who were busy extracting a need-fire from the roller, and that, when they succeeded, the flame would be used to ignite a heap of rags and brushwood, through which the ailing swine would be driven. she further explained that the persons who kindle a need-fire should always be two brothers or at least bear the same christian name.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in hanover.] in the summer of there was much sickness among the pigs and the cows of eddesse, a village near meinersen, in the south of hanover. when all ordinary measures to arrest the malady failed, the farmers met in solemn conclave on the village green and determined that next morning there should be a need-fire. thereupon the head man of the village sent word from house to house that on the following day nobody should kindle a fire before sunrise, and that everybody should stand by ready to drive out the cattle. the same afternoon all the necessary preparations were made for giving effect to the decision of the collective wisdom. a narrow street was enclosed with planks, and the village carpenter set to work at the machinery for kindling the fire. he took two posts of oak wood, bored a hole about three inches deep and broad in each, and set the two poles up facing each other at a distance of about two feet. then he fitted a roller of oak wood into the two holes of the posts, so that it formed a cross-piece between them. about two o'clock next morning every householder brought a bundle of straw and brushwood and laid it down across the street in a prescribed order. the sturdiest swains who could be found were chosen to make the need-fire. for this purpose a long hempen rope was wound twice round the oaken roller in the oaken posts: the pivots were well smeared with pitch and tar: a bundle of tow and other tinder was laid close at hand, and all was ready. the stalwart clodhoppers now seized the two ends of the rope and went to work with a will. puffs of smoke soon issued from the sockets, but to the consternation of the bystanders not a spark of fire could be elicited. some people openly declared their suspicion that some rascal had not put out the fire in his house, when suddenly the tinder burst into flame. the cloud passed away from all faces; the fire was applied to the heaps of fuel, and when the flames had somewhat died down, the herds were forcibly driven through the fire, first the pigs, next the cows, and last of all the horses. the herdsmen then drove the beasts to pasture, and persons whose faith in the efficacy of the need-fire was particularly robust carried home brands.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in the harz mountains.] again, at a village near quedlinburg, in the harz mountains, it was resolved to put a herd of sick swine through the need-fire. hearing of this intention the superintendent of quedlinburg hurried to the spot and has described for us what he saw. the beadles went from house to house to see that there was no fire in any house; for it is well known that should there be common fire burning in a house the need-fire will not kindle. the men made their rounds very early in the morning to make quite sure that all lights were out. at two o'clock a night-light was still burning in the parsonage, and this was of course a hindrance to the need-fire. the peasants knocked at the window and earnestly entreated that the night-light might be extinguished. but the parson's wife refused to put the light out; it still glimmered at the window; and in the darkness outside the angry rustics vowed that the parson's pigs should get no benefit of the need-fire. however, as good luck would have it, just as the morning broke, the night-light went out of itself, and the hopes of the people revived. from every house bundles of straw, tow, faggots and so forth were now carried to feed the bonfire. the noise and the cheerful bustle were such that you might have thought they were all hurrying to witness a public execution. outside the village, between two garden walls, an oaken post had been driven into the ground and a hole bored through it. in the hole a wooden winch, smeared with tar, was inserted and made to revolve with such force and rapidity that fire and smoke in time issued from the socket. the collected fuel was then thrown upon the fire and soon a great blaze shot up. the pigs were now driven into the upper end of the street. as soon as they saw the fire, they turned tail, but the peasants drove them through with shrieks and shouts and lashes of whips. at the other end of the street there was another crowd waiting, who chased the swine back through the fire a second time. then the other crowd repeated the manoeuvre, and the herd of swine was driven for the third time through the smoke and flames. that was the end of the performance. many pigs were scorched so severely that they gave up the ghost. the bonfire was broken up, and every householder took home with him a brand, which he washed in the water-barrel and laid for some time, as a treasure of great price, in the manger from which the cattle were fed. but the parson's wife had reason bitterly to repent her folly in refusing to put out that night-light; for not one of her pigs was driven through the need-fire, so they died.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in brunswick.] in brunswick, also, the need-fire is known to have been repeatedly kindled during the nineteenth century. after driving the pigs through the fire, which was kindled by the friction of wood, some people took brands home, dipped them in water, and then gave the water to the pigs to drink, no doubt for the purpose of inoculating them still more effectually with the precious virtue of the need-fire. in the villages of the drömling district everybody who bore a hand in kindling the "wild fire" must have the same christian name; otherwise they laboured in vain. the fire was produced by the friction of a rope round the beams of a door; and bread, corn, and old boots contributed their mites to swell the blaze through which the pigs as usual were driven. in one place, apparently not far from wolfenbüttel, the needfire is said to have been kindled, contrary to custom, by the smith striking a spark from the cold anvil.[ ] at gandersheim down to about the beginning of the nineteenth century the need-fire was lit in the common way by causing a cross-bar to revolve rapidly on its axis between two upright posts. the rope which produced the revolution of the bar had to be new, but it was if possible woven from threads taken from a gallows-rope, with which people had been hanged. while the need-fire was being kindled in this fashion, every other fire in the town had to be put out; search was made through the houses, and any fire discovered to be burning was extinguished. if in spite of every precaution no flame could be elicited by the friction of the rope, the failure was set down to witchcraft; but if the efforts were successful, a bonfire was lit with the new fire, and when the flames had died down, the sick swine were driven thrice through the glowing embers.[ ] on the lower rhine the need-fire is said to have been kindled by the friction of oak-wood on fir-wood, all fires in the village having been previously extinguished. the bonfires so kindled were composed of wood of nine different sorts; there were three such bonfires, and the cattle were driven round them with great gravity and devotion.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in silesia and bohemia.] in silesia, also, need-fires were often employed for the purpose of curing a murrain or preventing its spread. while all other lights within the boundaries were extinguished, the new fire was produced by the friction of nine kinds of wood, and the flame so obtained was used to kindle heaps of brushwood or straw to which every inhabitant had contributed. through these fires the cattle, both sick and sound, were driven in the confident expectation that thereby the sick would be healed and the sound saved from sickness.[ ] when plague breaks out among the herds at dobischwald, in austrian silesia, a splinter of wood is chipped from the threshold of every house, the cattle are driven to a cross-road, and there a tree, growing at the boundary, is felled by a pair of twin brothers. the wood of the tree and the splinters from the thresholds furnish the fuel of a bonfire, which is kindled by the rubbing of two pieces of wood together. when the bonfire is ablaze, the horns of the cattle are pared and the parings thrown into the flames, after which the animals are driven through the fire. this is believed to guard the herd against the plague.[ ] the germans of western bohemia resort to similar measures for staying a murrain. you set up a post, bore a hole in it, and insert in the hole a stick, which you have first of all smeared with pitch and wrapt in inflammable stuffs. then you wind a rope round the stick and give the two ends of the rope to two persons who must either be brothers or have the same baptismal name. they haul the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the tarred stick revolve rapidly, till the rope first smokes and then emits sparks. the sparks are used to kindle a bonfire, through which the cattle are driven in the usual way. and as usual no other fire may burn in the village while the need-fire is being kindled; for otherwise the rope could not possibly be ignited.[ ] in upper austria sick pigs are reported to have been driven through a need-fire about the beginning of the nineteenth century.[ ] [the use the need-fire in switzerland.] the need-fire is still in use in some parts of switzerland, but it seems to have degenerated into a children's game and to be employed rather for the dispersal of a mist than for the prevention or cure of cattle-plague. in some cantons it goes by the name of "mist-healing," while in others it is called "butter-churning." on a misty or rainy day a number of children will shut themselves up in a stable or byre and proceed to make fire for the purpose of improving the weather. the way in which they make it is this. a boy places a board against his breast, takes a peg pointed at both ends, and, setting one end of the peg against the board on his breast, presses the other end firmly against a second board, the surface of which has been flaked into a nap. a string is tied round the peg, and two other boys pull it to and fro, till through the rapid motion of the point of the peg a hole is burnt in the flaked board, to which tow or dry moss is then applied as a tinder. in this way fire and smoke are elicited, and with their appearance the children fancy that the mist will vanish.[ ] we may conjecture that this method of dispersing a mist, which is now left to children, was formerly practised in all seriousness by grown men in switzerland. it is thus that religious or magical rites dwindle away into the sports of children. in the canton of the grisons there is still in common use an imprecation, "mist, go away, or i'll heal you," which points to an old custom of burning up the fog with fire. a longer form of the curse lingers in the vallée des bagnes of the canton valais. it runs thus: "mist, mist, fly, fly, or st. martin will come with a sheaf of straw to burn your guts, a great log of wood to smash your brow, and an iron chain to drag you to hell."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in sweden and norway; the need-fire as a protection against witchcraft.] in sweden the need-fire is called, from the mode of its production, either _vrid-eld_, "turned fire," or _gnid-eld_, "rubbed fire." down to near the end of the eighteenth century the need-fire was kindled, as in germany, by the violent rubbing of two pieces of wood against each other; sometimes nine different kinds of wood were used for the purpose. the smoke of the fire was deemed salutary; fruit-trees and nets were fumigated with it, in order that the trees might bear fruit and the nets catch fish. cattle were also driven through the smoke.[ ] in sundal, a narrow norwegian valley, shut in on both sides by precipitous mountains, there lived down to the second half of the nineteenth century an old man who was very superstitious. he set salmon-traps in the river driva, which traverses the valley, and he caught many fish both in spring and autumn. when his fishing went wrong, he kindled _naueld_ ("need-fire") or _gnideild_ ("rubbed fire," "friction fire") to counteract the witchcraft, which he believed to be the cause of his bad luck. he set up two planks near each other, bored a hole in each, inserted a pointed rod in the holes, and twisted a long cord round the rod. then he pulled the cord so as to make the rod revolve rapidly. thus by reason of the friction he at last drew fire from the wood. that contented him, for "he believed that the witchery was thus rendered powerless, and that good luck in his fishing was now ensured."[ ] [the need-fire among the slavonic peoples.] slavonic peoples hold the need-fire in high esteem. they call it "living fire," and attribute to it a healing virtue. the ascription of medicinal power to fire kindled by the friction of wood is said to be especially characteristic of the slavs who inhabit the carpathian mountains and the balkan peninsula. the mode in which they produce the need-fire differs somewhat in different places. thus in the schar mountains of servia the task is entrusted to a boy and girl between eleven and fourteen years of age. they are led into a perfectly dark room, and having stripped themselves naked kindle the fire by rubbing two rollers of lime wood against each other, till the friction produces sparks, which are caught in tinder. the serbs of western macedonia drive two oaken posts into the ground, bore a round hole in the upper end of each, insert a roller of lime wood in the holes, and set it revolving rapidly by means of a cord, which is looped round the roller and worked by a bow. elsewhere the roller is put in motion by two men, who hold each one end of the cord and pull it backwards and forwards forcibly between them. bulgarian shepherds sometimes kindle the need-fire by drawing a prism-shaped piece of lime wood to and fro across the flat surface of a tree-stump in the forest.[ ] but in the neighbourhood of küstendil, in bulgaria, the need-fire is kindled by the friction of two pieces of oak wood and the cattle are driven through it.[ ] [the need-fire in russia and poland; the need-fire in slavonia.] in many districts of russia, also, "living fire" is made by the friction of wood on st. john's day, and the herds are driven through it, and the people leap over it in the conviction that their health is thereby assured; when a cattle-plague is raging, the fire is produced by rubbing two pieces of oak wood against each other, and it is used to kindle the lamps before the holy pictures and the censers in the churches.[ ] thus it appears that in russia the need-fire is kindled for the sake of the cattle periodically as well as on special emergencies. similarly in poland the peasants are said to kindle fires in the village streets on st. rochus's day and to drive the cattle thrice through them in order to protect the animals against the murrain. the fire is produced by rubbing a pole of poplar wood on a plank of poplar or fir wood and catching the sparks in tow. the embers are carried home to be used as remedies in sickness.[ ] as practised in slavonia, the custom of the need-fire used to present some interesting features, which are best described in the words of an eyewitness:--"in the year i came for the first time as a young merchant to slavonia; it was to gaj that i went, in the pozega district. the time was autumn, and it chanced that a cattle-plague was raging in the neighbourhood, which inflicted much loss on the people. the peasants believed that the plague was a woman, an evil spirit (_kutga_), who was destroying the cattle; so they sought to banish her. i had then occasion to observe the proceedings in the villages of gaj, kukunjevac, brezina, and brekinjska. towards evening the whole population of the village was busy laying a ring of brushwood round the boundaries of the village. all fires were extinguished throughout the village. then pairs of men in several places took pieces of wood, which had been specially prepared for the purpose, and rubbed them together till they emitted sparks. the sparks were allowed to fall on tinder and fanned into a flame, with which the dry brushwood was kindled. thus the fire burned all round the village. the peasants persuaded themselves that thereupon _kuga_ must take her departure."[ ] [the need-fire in servia.] this last account leaves no doubt as to the significance of the need-fire in the minds of slavonian peasantry. they regard it simply as a barrier interposed between their cattle and the evil spirit, which prowls, like a hungry wolf, round the fold and can, like a wolf, be kept at bay by fire. the same interpretation of the need-fire comes out, hardly less clearly, in the account which another writer gives of a ceremony witnessed by him at the village of setonje, at the foot of the homolje mountains in the great forest of servia. an epidemic was raging among the children, and the need-fire was resorted to as a means of staying the plague. it was produced by an old man and an old woman in the first of the ways described above; that is, they made it in the dark by rubbing two sticks of lime wood against each other. before the healing virtue of the fire was applied to the inhabitants of the village, two old women performed the following ceremony. both bore the name of stana, from the verb _stati_, "to remain standing"; for the ceremony could not be successfully performed by persons of any other name. one of them carried a copper kettle full of water, the other an old house-lock with the key. thus equipped they repaired to a spot outside of the village, and there the old dame with the kettle asked the old dame with the lock, "whither away?" and the other answered her, "i came to shut the village against ill-luck." with that she locked the lock and threw it with the key into the kettle of water. then they marched thrice round the village, repeating the ceremony of the lock and key at each round. meantime all the villagers, arrayed in their best clothes, were assembled in an open place. all the fires in the houses had been previously extinguished. two sturdy yokels now dug a tunnel through a mound beside an oak tree; the tunnel was just high enough to let a man creep through it on all fours. two fires, lit by the need-fire, were now laid, one at each end of the tunnel; and the old woman with the kettle took her stand at the entrance of the tunnel, while the one with the lock posted herself at the exit. facing the latter stood another woman with a great pot of milk before her, and on the other side was set a pot full of melted swine's fat. all was now ready. the villagers thereupon crawled through the tunnel on hands and knees, one behind the other. each, as he emerged from the tunnel, received a spoonful of milk from the woman and looked at his face reflected in the pot of melted swine's fat. then another woman made a cross with a piece of charcoal on his back. when all the inhabitants had thus crept through the tunnel and been doctored at the other end, each took some glowing embers home with him in a pot wherewith to rekindle the fire on the domestic hearth. lastly they put some of the charcoal in a vessel of water and drank the mixture in order to be thereby magically protected against the epidemic.[ ] it would be superfluous to point out in detail how admirably these measures are calculated to arrest the ravages of disease; but for the sake of those, if there are any, to whom the medicinal effect of crawling through a hole on hands and knees is not at once apparent, i shall merely say that the procedure in question is one of the most powerful specifics which the wit of man has devised for maladies of all sorts. ample evidence of its application will be adduced in a later part of this work.[ ] [the need-fire in bulgaria.] in bulgaria the herds suffer much from the raids of certain blood-sucking vampyres called _ustrels_. an _ustrel_ is the spirit of a christian child who was born on a saturday and died unfortunately before he could be baptized. on the ninth day after burial he grubs his way out of the grave and attacks the cattle at once, sucking their blood all night and returning at peep of dawn to the grave to rest from his labours. in ten days or so the copious draughts of blood which he has swallowed have so fortified his constitution that he can undertake longer journeys; so when he falls in with great herds of cattle or flocks of sheep he returns no more to the grave for rest and refreshment at night, but takes up his quarters during the day either between the horns of a sturdy calf or ram or between the hind legs of a milch-cow. beasts whose blood he has sucked die the same night. in any herd that he may fasten on he begins with the fattest animal and works his way down steadily through the leaner kine till not one single beast is left alive. the carcases of the victims swell up, and when the hide is stripped off you can always perceive the livid patch of flesh where the monster sucked the blood of the poor creature. in a single night he may, by working hard, kill five cows; but he seldom exceeds that number. he can change his shape and weight very easily; for example, when he is sitting by day between the horns of a ram, the animal scarcely feels his weight, but at night he will sometimes throw himself on an ox or a cow so heavily that the animal cannot stir, and lows so pitifully that it would make your heart bleed to hear. people who were born on a saturday can see these monsters, and they have described them accurately, so that there can be no doubt whatever about their existence. it is, therefore, a matter of great importance to the peasant to protect his flocks and herds against the ravages of such dangerous vampyres. the way in which he does so is this. on a saturday morning before sunrise the village drummer gives the signal to put out every fire in the village; even smoking is forbidden. next all the domestic animals, with the exception of fowls, geese, and ducks, are driven out into the open. in front of the flocks and herds march two men, whose names during the ceremony may not be mentioned in the village. they go into the wood, pick two dry branches, and having stript themselves of their clothes they rub the two branches together very hard till they catch fire; then with the fire so obtained they kindle two bonfires, one on each side of a cross-road which is known to be frequented by wolves. after that the herd is driven between the two fires. coals from the bonfires are then taken back to the village and used to rekindle the fires on the domestic hearths. for several days no one may go near the charred and blackened remains of the bonfires at the cross-road. the reason is that the vampyre is lying there, having dropped from his seat between the cow's horns when the animals were driven between the two fires. so if any one were to pass by the spot during these days, the monster would be sure to call him by name and to follow him to the village; whereas if he is left alone, a wolf will come at midnight and strangle him, and in a few days the herdsmen can see the ground soaked with his slimy blood. so that is the end of the vampyre.[ ] in this bulgarian custom, as in the slavonian custom described above, the conception of the need-fire as a barrier set up between the cattle and a dangerous spirit is clearly worked out. the spirit rides the cow till he comes to the narrow pass between the two fires, but the heat there is too much for him; he drops in a faint from the saddle, or rather from the horns, and the now riderless animal escapes safe and sound beyond the smoke and flame, leaving her persecutor prostrate on the ground on the further side of the blessed barrier. [the need-fire in bosnia and herzegovina.] in bosnia and herzegovina there are some local differences in the mode of kindling the need-fire, or "living fire," as it is called. thus at jablanica both the uprights and the roller or cross-piece, which by its revolution kindles the fire, are made of cornel-tree wood; whereas at dolac, near sarajevo, the uprights and the cross-piece or roller are all made of lime wood. in gacko, contrary to the usual custom, the fire is made by striking a piece of iron on an anvil, till sparks are given out, which are caught in tinder. the "living fire" thus produced is employed for purposes of healing. in particular, if any one suffers from wounds or sores, ashes of the need-fire are sprinkled on the ailing part. in gacko it is also believed that if a pregnant woman witnesses a conflagration, her child will either be born with a red eruption on its skin or will contract the malady sooner or later afterwards. the only remedy consists in ashes of the need-fire, which are mixed with water and given to the child to drink.[ ] [the need-fire in england; the need-fire in yorkshire.] in england the earliest notice of the need-fire seems to be contained in the chronicle of lanercost for the year . the annalist tells with pious horror how, when an epidemic was raging in that year among the cattle, "certain beastly men, monks in garb but not in mind, taught the idiots of their country to make fire by the friction of wood and to set up an image of priapus, whereby they thought to succour the animals."[ ] the use of the need-fire is particularly attested for the counties of yorkshire and northumberland. thus in yorkshire down to the middle of the eighteenth century "the favourite remedy of the country people, not only in the way of cure, but of prevention, was an odd one; it was to smoke the cattle almost to suffocation, by kindling straw, litter, and other combustible matter about them. the effects of this mode of cure are not stated, but the most singular part of it was that by which it was reported to have been discovered. an angel (says the legend), descended into yorkshire, and there set a large tree on fire; the strange appearance of which or else the savour of the smoke, incited the cattle around (some of which were infected) to draw near the miracle, when they all either received an immediate cure or an absolute prevention of the disorder. it is not affirmed that the angel staid to speak to anybody, but only that he left a _written_ direction for the neighbouring people to catch this supernatural fire, and to communicate it from one to another with all possible speed throughout the country; and in case it should be extinguished and utterly lost, that then new fire, of equal virtue, might be obtained, not by any common method, but by rubbing two pieces of wood together till they ignited. upon what foundation this story stood, is not exactly known, but it put the farmers actually into a hurry of communicating flame and smoke from one house to another with wonderful speed, making it run like wildfire over the country."[ ] again, we read that "the father of the writer, who died in , in his seventy-ninth year, had a perfect remembrance of a great number of persons, belonging to the upper and middle classes of his native parish of bowes, assembling on the banks of the river greta to work for need-fire. a disease among cattle, called the murrain, then prevailed to a very great extent through that district of yorkshire. the cattle were made to pass through the smoke raised by this miraculous fire, and their cure was looked upon as certain, and to neglect doing so was looked upon as wicked. this fire was produced by the violent and continued friction of two dry pieces of wood until such time as it was thereby obtained. 'to work as though one was working for need-fire' is a common proverb in the north of england."[ ] at ingleton, a small town nestling picturesquely at the foot of the high hill of ingleborough in western yorkshire, "within the last thirty years or so it was a common practice to kindle the so-called 'need-fire' by rubbing two pieces of wood briskly together, and setting ablaze a large heap of sticks and brushwood, which were dispersed, and cattle then driven through the smoking brands. this was thought to act as a charm against the spread or developement of the various ailments to which cattle are liable, and the farmers seem to have had great faith in it."[ ] writing about the middle of the nineteenth century, kemble tells us that the will-fire or need-fire had been used in devonshire for the purpose of staying a murrain within the memory of man.[ ] [the need-fire in northumberland.] so in northumberland, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, "when a contagious disease enters among cattle, the fires are extinguished in the adjacent villages. two pieces of dried wood are then rubbed together until fire be produced; with this a quantity of straw is kindled, juniper is thrown into the flame, and the cattle are repeatedly driven through the smoke. part of the forced fire is sent to the neighbours, who again forward it to others, and, as great expedition is used, the fires may be seen blazing over a great extent of country in a very short space of time."[ ] "it is strange," says the antiquary william henderson, writing about , "to find the custom of lighting 'need-fires' on the occasion of epidemics among cattle still lingering among us, but so it is. the vicar of stamfordham writes thus respecting it: 'when the murrain broke out among the cattle about eighteen years ago, this fire was produced by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, and was carried from place to place all through this district, as a charm against cattle taking the disease. bonfires were kindled with it, and the cattle driven into the smoke, where they were left for some time. many farmers hereabouts, i am informed, had the need-fire.'"[ ] [martin's account of the need-fire in the highlands of scotland.] in the earliest systematic account of the western islands of scotland we read that "the inhabitants here did also make use of a fire called _tin-egin, i.e._ a forced fire, or fire of necessity, which they used as an antidote against the plague or murrain in cattle; and it was performed thus: all the fires in the parish were extinguished, and then eighty-one married men, being thought the necessary number for effecting this design, took two great planks of wood, and nine of them were employed by turns, who by their repeated efforts rubbed one of the planks against the other until the heat thereof produced fire; and from this forced fire each family is supplied with new fire, which is no sooner kindled than a pot full of water is quickly set on it, and afterwards sprinkled upon the people infected with the plague, or upon the cattle that have the murrain. and this they all say they find successful by experience: it was practised in the main land, opposite to the south of skie, within these thirty years."[ ] [the need-fire in the island of mull; sacrifice of a heifer.] in the island of mull, one of the largest of the hebrides, the need-fire was kindled as late as . "in consequence of a disease among the black cattle the people agreed to perform an incantation, though they esteemed it a wicked thing. they carried to the top of carnmoor a wheel and nine spindles of oakwood. they extinguished every fire in every house within sight of the hill; the wheel was then turned from east to west over the nine spindles long enough to produce fire by friction. if the fire were not produced before noon, the incantation lost its effect. they failed for several days running. they attributed this failure to the obstinacy of one householder, who would not let his fires be put out for what he considered so wrong a purpose. however, by bribing his servants they contrived to have them extinguished and on that morning raised their fire. they then sacrificed a heifer, cutting in pieces and burning, while yet alive, the diseased part. they then lighted their own hearths from the pile and ended by feasting on the remains. words of incantation were repeated by an old man from morven, who came over as master of the ceremonies, and who continued speaking all the time the fire was being raised. this man was living a beggar at bellochroy. asked to repeat the spell, he said, the sin of repeating it once had brought him to beggary, and that he dared not say those words again. the whole country believed him accursed."[ ] from this account we see that in mull the kindling of the need-fire as a remedy for cattle disease was accompanied by the sacrifice of one of the diseased animals; and though the two customs are for the most part mentioned separately by our authorities, we may surmise that they were often, perhaps usually, practised together for the purpose of checking the ravages of sickness in the herds.[ ] [the need-fire in caithness.] in the county of caithness, forming the extreme northeast corner of the mainland of scotland, the practice of the need-fire survived down at least to about . we read that "in those days, when the stock of any considerable farmer was seized with the murrain, he would send for one of the charm-doctors to superintend the raising of a _need-fire_. it was done by friction, thus; upon any small island, where the stream of a river or burn ran on each side, a circular booth was erected, of stone and turf, as it could be had, in which a semicircular or highland couple of birch, or other hard wood, was set; and, in short, a roof closed on it. a straight pole was set up in the centre of this building, the upper end fixed by a wooden pin to the top of the couple, and the lower end in an oblong _trink_ in the earth or floor; and lastly, another pole was set across horizontally, having both ends tapered, one end of which was supported in a hole in the side of the perpendicular pole, and the other in a similar hole in the couple leg. the horizontal stick was called the auger, having four short arms or levers fixed in its centre, to work it by; the building having been thus finished, as many men as could be collected in the vicinity, (being divested of all kinds of metal in their clothes, etc.), would set to work with the said auger, two after two, constantly turning it round by the arms or levers, and others occasionally driving wedges of wood or stone behind the lower end of the upright pole, so as to press it the more on the end of the auger: by this constant friction and pressure, the ends of the auger would take fire, from which a fire would be instantly kindled, and thus the _needfire_ would be accomplished. the fire in the farmer's house, etc., was immediately quenched with water, a fire kindled from this needfire, both in the farm-houses and offices, and the cattle brought to feel the smoke of this new and sacred fire, which preserved them from the murrain."[ ] [the need-fire in caithness.] the last recorded case of the need-fire in caithness happened in or . at houstry, dunbeath, a crofter named david gunn had made for himself a kail-yard and in doing so had wilfully encroached on one of those prehistoric ruins called _brochs_, which the people of the neighbourhood believed to be a fairy habitation. soon afterwards a murrain broke out among the cattle of the district and carried off many beasts. so the wise men put their heads together and resolved to light a _teine-eigin_ or need-fire as the best way of stopping the plague. they cut a branch from a tree in a neighbouring wood, stripped it of bark, and carried it to a small island in the houstry burn. every fire in the district having been quenched, new fire was made by the friction of wood in the island, and from this sacred flame all the hearths of the houses were lit afresh. one of the sticks used in making the fire was preserved down to about the end of the nineteenth century; apparently the mode of operation was the one known as the fire-drill: a pointed stick was twirled in a hole made in another stick till fire was elicited by the friction.[ ] [another account of the need-fire in the highlands.] another account of the use of need-fire in the highlands of scotland runs as follows: "when, by the neglect of the prescribed safeguards [against witchcraft], the seeds of iniquity have taken root, and a person's means are decaying in consequence, the only alternative, in this case, is to resort to that grand remedy, the _tein econuch_, or 'forlorn fire,' which seldom fails of being productive of the best effects. the cure for witchcraft, called _tein econuch_, is wrought in the following manner:--a consultation being held by the unhappy sufferer and his friends as to the most advisable measures of effecting a cure, if this process is adopted, notice is privately communicated to all those householders who reside within the nearest of two running streams, to extinguish their lights and fires on some appointed morning. on its being ascertained that this notice has been duly observed, a spinning-wheel, or some other convenient instrument, calculated to produce fire by friction, is set to work with the most furious earnestness by the unfortunate sufferer, and all who wish well to his cause. relieving each other by turns, they drive on with such persevering diligence, that at length the spindle of the wheel, ignited by excessive friction, emits 'forlorn fire' in abundance, which, by the application of tow, or some other combustible material, is widely extended over the whole neighbourhood. communicating the fire to the tow, the tow communicates it to a candle, the candle to a fir-torch, the torch to a cartful of peats, which the master of the ceremonies, with pious ejaculations for the success of the experiment, distributes to messengers, who will proceed with portions of it to the different houses within the said two running streams, to kindle the different fires. by the influence of this operation, the machinations and spells of witchcraft are rendered null and void."[ ] [alexander carmichael's account of the need-fire in the highlands of scotland during the nineteenth century.] in various parts of the highlands of scotland the needfire was still kindled during the first half of the nineteenth century, as we learn from the following account:-- "_tein-eigin_, neid-fire, need-fire, forced fire, fire produced by the friction of wood or iron against wood. "the fire of purification was kindled from the neid-fire, while the domestic fire on the hearth was re-kindled from the purification fire on the knoll. among other names, the purification fire was called _teine bheuil_, fire of beul, and _teine mor bheuil_, great fire of beul. the fire of beul was divided into two fires between which people and cattle rushed australly for purposes of purification. the ordeal was trying, as may be inferred from phrases still current. _is teodha so na teine teodha bheuil_, 'hotter is this than the hot fire of beul.' replying to his grandchild, an old man in lewis said ... 'mary! sonnie, it were worse for me to do that for thee than to go between the two great fires of beul.' "the neid-fire was resorted to in imminent or actual calamity upon the first day of the quarter, and to ensure success in great or important events. [the needfire in arran.] "the writer conversed with several persons who saw the neid-fire made, and who joined in the ceremony. as mentioned elsewhere, a woman in arran said that her father, and the other men of the townland, made the neid-fire on the knoll on _la buidhe bealltain_--yellow day of beltane. they fed the fire from _cuaile mor conaidh caoin_--great bundles of sacred faggots brought to the knoll on beltane eve. when the sacred fire became kindled, the people rushed home and brought their herds and drove them through and round the fire of purification, to sain them from the _bana bhuitseach mhor nic creafain mac creafain_--the great arch witch mac crauford, now crawford. that was in the second decade of this century. [the need-fire in north uist.] "john macphail, middlequarter, north uist, said that the last occasion on which the neid-fire was made in north uist was _bliadhna an t-sneachda bhuidhe_--the year of the yellow snow-- (?). the snow lay so deep and remained so long on the ground, that it became yellow. some suggest that the snow was originally yellow, as snow is occasionally red. this extraordinary continuance of snow caused much want and suffering throughout the isles. the people of north uist extinguished their own fires and generated a purification fire at sail dharaich, sollas. the fire was produced from an oak log by rapidly boring with an auger. this was accomplished by the exertions of _naoi naoinear ciad ginealach mac_--the nine nines of first-begotten sons. from the neid-fire produced on the knoll the people of the parish obtained fire for their dwellings. many cults and ceremonies were observed on the occasion, cults and ceremonies in which pagan and christian beliefs intermingled. _sail dharaich_, oak log, obtained its name from the log of oak for the neid-fire being there. a fragment of this log riddled with auger holes marks a grave in _cladh sgealoir_, the burying-ground of _sgealoir_, in the neighbourhood. [the need-fire in reay, sutherland.] "mr. alexander mackay, edinburgh, a native of reay, sutherland, says:--'my father was the skipper of a fishing crew. before beginning operations for the season, the crew of the boat met at night in our house to settle accounts for the past, and to plan operations for the new season. my mother and the rest of us were sent to bed. i lay in the kitchen, and was listening and watching, though they thought i was asleep. after the men had settled their past affairs and future plans, they put out the fire on the hearth, not a spark being allowed to live. they then rubbed two pieces of wood one against another so rapidly as to produce fire, the men joining in one after the other, and working with the utmost energy and never allowing the friction to relax. from this friction-fire they rekindled the fire on the hearth, from which all the men present carried away a kindling to their own homes. whether their success was due to their skill, their industry, their perseverance, or to the neid-fire, i do not know, but i know that they were much the most successful crew in the place. they met on saturday, and went to church on sunday like the good men and the good christians they were--a little of their pagan faith mingling with their christian belief. i have reason to believe that other crews in the place as well as my father's crew practised the neid-fire.' "a man at helmsdale, sutherland, saw the _tein-eigin_ made in his boyhood. "the neid-fire was made in north uist about the year , in arran about , in helmsdale about , in reay about ."[ ] [the beltane fire a precaution against witchcraft.] from the foregoing account we learn that in arran the annual beltane fire was regularly made by the friction of wood, and that it was used to protect men and cattle against a great witch. when we remember that beltane eve or the eve of may day (walpurgis night) is the great witching time of the year throughout europe, we may surmise that wherever bonfires have been ceremonially kindled on that day it has been done simply as a precaution against witchcraft; indeed this motive is expressly alleged not only in scotland, but in wales, the isle of man, and many parts of central europe.[ ] it deserves, further, to be noticed that in north uist the wood used to kindle the need-fire was oak, and that the nine times nine men by whose exertions the flame was elicited were all first-born sons. apparently the first-born son of a family was thought to be endowed with more magical virtue than his younger brothers. similarly in the punjaub "the supernatural power ascribed to the first born is not due to his being unlucky, but the idea underlying the belief seems to be that being the first product of the parents, he inherits the spiritual powers (or magnetism) in a high degree. the success of such persons in stopping rain and hail and in stupefying snakes is proverbial. it is believed that a first child born with feet forward can cure backache by kicking the patient in the back, on a crossing."[ ] [the need-fire in aberdeenshire.] in the north-east of aberdeenshire and the neighbourhood, when the cattle-disease known as the "quarter-ill" broke out, "the 'muckle wheel' was set in motion and turned till fire was produced. from this virgin flame fires were kindled in the byres. at the same time, if neighbours requested the favour, live coals were given them to kindle fires for the purification of their homesteads and turning off the disease. fumigating the byres with juniper was a method adopted to ward off disease. such a fire was called 'needfyre.' the kindling of it came under the censure of the presbytery at times."[ ] [the need-fire in perthshire.] in perthshire the need-fire was kindled as a remedy for cattle-disease as late as . "a wealthy old farmer, having lost several of his cattle by some disease very prevalent at present, and being able to account for it in no way so rationally as by witchcraft, had recourse to the following remedy, recommended to him by a weird sister in his neighbourhood, as an effectual protection from the attacks of the foul fiend. a few stones were piled together in the barnyard, and woodcoals having been laid thereon, the fuel was ignited by _will-fire_, that is fire obtained by friction; the neighbours having been called in to witness the solemnity, the cattle were made to pass through the flames, in the order of their dignity and age, commencing with the horses and ending with the swine. the ceremony having been duly and decorously gone through, a neighbouring farmer observed to the enlightened owner of the herd, that he, along with his family, ought to have followed the example of the cattle, and the sacrifice to baal would have been complete."[ ] [the need-fire in ireland.] in county leitrim, ireland, in order to prevent fever from spreading, "all the fires on the townland, and the two adjoining (one on each side), would be put out. then the men of the three townlands would come to one house, and get two large blocks of wood. one would be set in the ground, and the other one, fitted with two handles, placed on the top of it. the men would then draw the upper block backwards and forwards over the lower until fire was produced by friction, and from this the fires would be lighted again. this would prevent the fever from spreading,"[ ] [the use of the need-fire a relic of a time when all fires were kindled by the friction of wood.] thus it appears that in many parts of europe it has been customary to kindle fire by the friction of wood for the purpose of curing or preventing the spread of disease, particularly among cattle. the mode of striking a light by rubbing two dry sticks against each other is the one to which all over the world savages have most commonly resorted for the sake of providing themselves with fire;[ ] and we can scarcely doubt that the practice of kindling the need-fire in this primitive fashion is merely a survival from the time when our savage forefathers lit all their fires in that way. nothing is so conservative of old customs as religious or magical ritual, which invests these relics of the past with an atmosphere of mysterious virtue and sanctity. to the educated mind it seems obvious that a fire which a man kindles with the sweat of his brow by laboriously rubbing one stick against each other can possess neither more nor less virtue than one which he has struck in a moment by the friction of a lucifer match; but to the ignorant and superstitious this truth is far from apparent, and accordingly they take infinite pains to do in a roundabout way what they might have done directly with the greatest ease, and what, even when it is done, is of no use whatever for the purpose in hand. a vast proportion of the labour which mankind has expended throughout the ages has been no better spent; it has been like the stone of sisyphus eternally rolled up hill only to revolve eternally down again, or like the water poured for ever by the danaids into broken pitchers which it could never fill. [the belief that the need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood.] the curious notion that the need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood seems to imply that fire is conceived as a unity which is broken up into fractions and consequently weakened in exact proportion to the number of places where it burns; hence in order to obtain it at full strength you must light it only at a single point, for then the flame will burst out with a concentrated energy derived from the tributary fires which burned on all the extinguished hearths of the country. so in a modern city if all the gas were turned off simultaneously at all the burners but one, the flame would no doubt blaze at that one burner with a fierceness such as no single burner could shew when all are burning at the same time. the analogy may help us to understand the process of reasoning which leads the peasantry to insist on the extinction of all common fires when the need-fire is about to be kindled. perhaps, too, it may partly explain that ceremonial extinction of all old fires on other occasions which is often required by custom as a preliminary to the lighting of a new and sacred fire.[ ] we have seen that in the highlands of scotland all common fires were extinguished on the eve of may-day as a preparation for kindling the beltane bonfire by friction next morning;[ ] and no doubt the reason for the extinction was the same as in the case of the need-fire. indeed we may assume with a fair degree of probability that the need-fire was the parent of the periodic fire-festivals; at first invoked only at irregular intervals to cure certain evils as they occurred, the powerful virtue of fire was afterwards employed at regular intervals to prevent the occurrence of the same evils as well as to remedy such as had actually arisen. [the needfire among the iroquois of north america.] the need-fire of europe has its parallel in a ceremony which used to be observed by the iroquois indians of north america. "formerly when an epidemic prevailed among the iroquois despite the efforts to stay it, it was customary for the principal shaman to order the fires in every cabin to be extinguished and the ashes and cinders to be carefully removed; for it was believed that the pestilence was sent as a punishment for neglecting to rekindle 'new fire,' or because of the manner in which the fire then in use had been kindled. so, after all the fires were out, two suitable logs of slippery elm (_ulmus fulva_) were provided for the new fire. one of the logs was from six to eight inches in diameter and from eight to ten feet long; the other was from ten to twelve inches in diameter and about ten feet long. about midway across the larger log a cuneiform notch or cut about six inches deep was made, and in the wedge-shaped notch punk was placed. the other log was drawn rapidly to and fro in the cut by four strong men chosen for the purpose until the punk was ignited by the friction thus produced. before and during the progress of the work of igniting the fire the shaman votively sprinkled _tcar-hu'-eñ-we_, 'real tobacco,' three several times into the cuneiform notch and offered earnest prayers to the fire-god, beseeching him 'to aid, to bless, and to redeem the people from their calamities.' the ignited punk was used to light a large bonfire, and then the head of every family was required to take home 'new fire' to rekindle a fire in his or her fire-place."[ ] § . _the sacrifice of an animal to stay a cattle-plague_ [the burnt sacrifice of a calf in england and wales; burnt sacrifice a pig in scotland.] sometimes apparently in england as well as in scotland the kindling of a need-fire was accompanied by the sacrifice of a calf. thus in northamptonshire, at some time during the first half of the nineteenth century, "miss c---- and her cousin walking saw a fire in a field and a crowd round it. they said, 'what is the matter?' 'killing a calf.' 'what for?' 'to stop the murrain.' they went away as quickly as possible. on speaking to the clergyman he made enquiries. the people did not like to talk of the affair, but it appeared that when there is a disease among the cows or the calves are born sickly, they sacrifice (i.e. kill and burn) one 'for good luck.'"[ ] it is not here said that the fire was a need-fire, of which indeed the two horrified ladies had probably never heard; but the analogy of the parallel custom in mull[ ] renders it probable that in northamptonshire also the fire was kindled by the friction of wood, and that the calf or some part of it was burnt in the fire. certainly the practice of burning a single animal alive in order to save all the others would seem to have been not uncommon in england down to the nineteenth century. thus a farmer in cornwall about the year , having lost many cattle by disease, and tried many remedies in vain, consulted with some of his neighbours and laying their heads together "they recalled to their recollections a tale, which tradition had handed down from remote antiquity, that the calamity would not cease until he had actually burned alive the finest calf which he had upon his farm; but that, when this sacrifice was made, the murrain would afflict his cattle no more." accordingly, on a day appointed they met, lighted a large fire, placed the best calf in it, and standing round the blazing pile drove the animal with pitchforks back into the flames whenever it attempted to escape. thus the victim was burned alive to save the rest of the cattle.[ ] "there can be no doubt but that a belief prevailed until a very recent period, amongst the small farmers in the districts remote from towns in cornwall, that a living sacrifice appeased the wrath of god. this sacrifice must be by fire; and i have heard it argued that the bible gave them warranty for this belief.... while correcting these sheets i am informed of two recent instances of this superstition. one of them was the sacrifice of a calf by a farmer near portreath, for the purpose of removing a disease which had long followed his horses and his cows. the other was the burning of a living lamb, to save, as the farmer said, 'his flocks from spells which had been cast on 'em.'"[ ] in a recent account of the fire-festivals of wales we read that "i have also heard my grandfather and father say that in times gone by the people would throw a calf in the fire when there was any disease among the herds. the same would be done with a sheep if there was anything the matter with a flock. i can remember myself seeing cattle being driven between two fires to 'stop the disease spreading.' when in later times it was not considered humane to drive the cattle between the fires, the herdsmen were accustomed to force the animals over the wood ashes to protect them against various ailments."[ ] writing about , the antiquary w. henderson says that a live ox was burned near haltwhistle in northumberland "only twenty years ago" to stop a murrain.[ ] "about the year disease broke out among the cattle of a small farm in the parish of resoliss, black isle, ross-shire. the farmer prevailed on his wife to undertake a journey to a wise woman of renown in banffshire to ask a charm against the effects of the 'ill eye.' the long journey of upwards of fifty miles was performed by the good wife, and the charm was got. one chief thing ordered was to burn to death a pig, and sprinkle the ashes over the byre and other farm buildings. this order was carried out, except that the pig was killed before it was burned. a more terrible sacrifice was made at times. one of the diseased animals was rubbed over with tar, driven forth, set on fire, and allowed to run till it fell down and died."[ ] "living animals have been burnt alive in sacrifice within memory to avert the loss of other stock. the burial of three puppies 'brandise-wise' in a field is supposed to rid it of weeds. throughout the rural districts of devon witchcraft is an article of current faith, and the toad is thrown into the flames as an emissary of the evil one."[ ] [the calf is burnt in order to break a spell which has been cast on the herd.] but why, we may ask, should the burning alive of a calf or a sheep be supposed to save the rest of the herd or the flock from the murrain? according to one writer, as we have seen, the burnt sacrifice was thought to appease the wrath of god.[ ] the idea of appeasing the wrath of a ferocious deity by burning an animal alive is probably no more than a theological gloss put on an old heathen rite; it would hardly occur to the simple mind of an english bumpkin, who, though he may be stupid, is not naturally cruel and does not conceive of a divinity who takes delight in the contemplation of suffering. to his thinking god has little or nothing to do with the murrain, but witches, ill-wishers, and fairies have a great deal to do with it. the english farmer who burned one of his lambs alive said that he did it "to save his flocks from spells which had been cast on them"; and the scotch farmer who was bidden to burn a pig alive for a similar purpose, but who had the humanity to kill the animal first, believed that this was a remedy for the "evil eye" which had been cast upon his beasts. again, we read that "a farmer, who possessed broad acres, and who was in many respects a sensible man, was greatly annoyed to find that his cattle became diseased in the spring. nothing could satisfy him but that they were bewitched, and he was resolved to find out the person who had cast the evil eye on his oxen. according to an anciently-prescribed rule, the farmer took one of his bullocks and bled it to death, catching all the blood on bundles of straw. the bloody straw was then piled into a heap, and set on fire. burning with a vast quantity of smoke, the farmer expected to see the witch, either in reality or in shadow, amidst the smoke."[ ] such reasons express the real beliefs of the peasants. "cattle, like human beings, were exposed to the influences of the evil eye, of forespeaking, and of the casting of evil. witches and warlocks did the work of evil among their neighbours' cattle if their anger had been aroused in any way. the fairies often wrought injury amongst cattle. every animal that died suddenly was killed by the dart of the fairies, or, in the language of the people, was 'shot-a-dead.' flint arrows and spear-heads went by the name of 'faery dairts....' when an animal died suddenly the canny woman of the district was sent for to search for the 'faery dairt,' and in due course she found one, to the great satisfaction of the owner of the dead animal."[ ] [mode in which the burning of a bewitched animal is supposed to break the spell.] but how, we must still ask, can burning an animal alive break the spell that has been cast upon its fellows by a witch or a warlock? some light is thrown on the question by the following account of measures which rustic wiseacres in suffolk are said to have adopted as a remedy for witchcraft. "a woman i knew forty-three years had been employed by my predecessor to take care of his poultry. at the time i came to make her acquaintance she was a bedridden toothless crone, with chin and nose all but meeting. she did not discourage in her neighbours the idea that she knew more than people ought to know, and had more power than others had. many years before i knew her it happened one spring that the ducks, which were a part of her charge, failed to lay eggs.... she at once took it for granted that the ducks had been bewitched. this misbelief involved very shocking consequences, for it necessitated the idea that so diabolical an act could only be combated by diabolical cruelty. and the most diabolical act of cruelty she could imagine was that of baking alive in a hot oven one of the ducks. and that was what she did. the sequence of thought in her mind was that the spell that had been laid on the ducks was that of preternaturally wicked wilfulness; that this spell could only be broken through intensity of suffering, in this case death by burning; that the intensity of suffering would break the spell in the one roasted to death; and that the spell broken in one would be altogether broken, that is, in all the ducks.... shocking, however, as was this method of exorcising the ducks, there was nothing in it original. just about a hundred years before, everyone in the town and neighbourhood of ipswich had heard, and many had believed, that a witch had been burnt to death in her own house at ipswich by the process of burning alive one of the sheep she had bewitched. it was curious, but it was as convincing as curious, that the hands and feet of this witch were the only parts of her that had not been incinerated. this, however, was satisfactorily explained by the fact that the four feet of the sheep, by which it had been suspended over the fire, had not been destroyed in the flames that had consumed its body."[ ] according to a slightly different account of the same tragic incident, the last of the "ipswitch witches," one grace pett, "laid her hand heavily on a farmer's sheep, who, in order to punish her, fastened one of the sheep in the ground and burnt it, except the feet, which were under the earth. the next morning grace pett was found burnt to a cinder, except her feet. her fate is recorded in the _philosophical transactions_ as a case of spontaneous combustion."[ ] [in burning the bewitched animal you burn the witch herself.] this last anecdote is instructive, if perhaps not strictly authentic. it shows that in burning alive one of a bewitched flock or herd what you really do is to burn the witch, who is either actually incarnate in the animal or perhaps more probably stands in a relation of sympathy with it so close as almost to amount to identity. hence if you burn the creature to ashes, you utterly destroy the witch and thereby save the whole of the rest of the flock or herd from her abominable machinations; whereas if you only partially burn the animal, allowing some parts of it to escape the flames, the witch is only half-baked, and her power for mischief may be hardly, if at all, impaired by the grilling. we can now see that in such matters half-measures are useless. to kill the animal first and burn it afterwards is a weak compromise, dictated no doubt by a well-meant but utterly mistaken kindness; it is like shutting the stable-door when the steed is stolen, for obviously by leaving the animal's, and therefore the witch's, body nearly intact at the moment of death, it allows her soul to escape and return safe and sound to her own human body, which all the time is probably lying quietly at home in bed. and the same train of reasoning that justifies the burning alive of bewitched animals justifies and indeed requires the burning alive of the witches themselves; it is really the only way of destroying them, body and soul, and therefore of thoroughly extirpating the whole infernal crew. [practice of burning cattle and sheep as sacrifices in the isle of man.] in the isle of man the practice of burning cattle alive in order to stop a murrain seems to have persisted down to a time within living memory. on this subject i will quote the evidence collected by sir john rhys: "a respectable farmer from andreas told me that he was driving with his wife to the neighbouring parish of jurby some years ago, and that on the way they beheld the carcase of a cow or an ox burning in a field, with a woman engaged in stirring the fire. on reaching the village to which they were going, they found that the burning beast belonged to a farmer whom they knew. they were further told it was no wonder that the said farmer had one of his cattle burnt, as several of them had recently died. whether this was a case of sacrifice or not i cannot say. but let me give you another instance: a man whom i have already mentioned, saw at a farm nearer the centre of the island a live calf being burnt. the owner bears an english name, but his family has long been settled in man. the farmer's explanation to my informant was that the calf was burnt to secure luck for the rest of the herd, some of which were threatening to die. my informant thought there was absolutely nothing the matter with them, except that they had too little to eat. be that as it may, the one calf was sacrificed as a burnt-offering to secure luck for the rest of the cattle. let me here also quote mr. moore's note in his _manx surnames_, p. , on the place name _cabbal yn oural losht_, or the chapel of the burnt sacrifice. 'this name,' he says, 'records a circumstance which took place in the nineteenth century, but which, it is to be hoped, was never customary in the isle of man. a farmer, who had lost a number of his sheep and cattle by murrain, burned a calf as a propitiatory offering to the deity on this spot, where a chapel was afterwards built. hence the name.' particulars, i may say, of time, place, and person could be easily added to mr. moore's statement, excepting, perhaps as to the deity in question; on that point i have never been informed, but mr. moore is probably right in the use of the capital _d_, as the sacrificer is, according to all accounts, a highly devout christian. one more instance: an octogenarian woman, born in the parish of bride, and now living at kirk andreas, saw, when she was a 'lump of a girl' of ten or fifteen years of age, a live sheep being burnt in a field in the parish of andreas, on may-day, whereby she meant the first of may reckoned according to the old style. she asserts very decidedly that it was _son oural_, 'as a sacrifice,' as she put it, and 'for an object to the public': those were her words when she expressed herself in english. further, she made the statement that it was a custom to burn a sheep on old may-day for a sacrifice. i was fully alive to the interest of this evidence, and cross-examined her so far as her age allows of it, and i find that she adheres to her statement with all firmness."[ ] [by burning a bewitched animal you compel the witch to appear.] but manxmen burn beasts when they are dead as well as when they are alive; and their reasons for burning the dead animals may help us to understand their reasons for burning the living animals. on this subject i will again quote sir john rhys: "when a beast dies on a farm, of course it dies, according to the old-fashioned view of things, as i understand it, from the influence of the evil eye or the interposition of a witch. so if you want to know to whom you are indebted for the loss of the beast, you have simply to burn its carcase in the open air and watch who comes first to the spot or who first passes by; that is the criminal to be charged with the death of the animal, and he cannot help coming there--such is the effect of the fire. a michael woman, who is now about thirty, related to me how she watched while the carcase of a bewitched colt was burning, how she saw the witch coming, and how she remembers her shrivelled face, with nose and chin in close proximity. according to another native of michael, a well-informed middle-aged man, the animal in question was oftenest a calf, and it was wont to be burnt whole, skin and all. the object, according to him, is invariably to bring the bewitcher on the spot, and he always comes; but i am not clear what happens to him when he appears. my informant added, however, that it was believed that, unless the bewitcher got possession of the heart of the burning beast, he lost all his power of bewitching."[ ] [magic sympathy between the witch and the bewitched animal.] these statements shew that in the isle of man the sympathetic relation between the witch and his or her animal victim is believed to be so close that by burning the animal you compel the witch to appear. the original idea may have been that, by virtue of a magic sympathy which binds the two together, whatever harm you do to the animal is felt by the witch as if it were done to herself. that notion would fully explain why manx people used also to burn bewitched animals alive; in doing so they probably imagined that they were simultaneously burning the witch who had cast the spell on their cattle. [parallel belief in magic sympathy between the animal shape of a were-wolf and his or her ordinary human shape: by wounding the wolf you simultaneously wound the man or woman.] this explanation of the reason for burning a bewitched animal, dead or alive, is confirmed by the parallel belief concerning were-wolves. it is commonly supposed that certain men and women can transform themselves by magic art into wolves or other animals, but that any wound inflicted on such a transformed beast (a were-wolf or other were-animal) is simultaneously inflicted on the human body of the witch or warlock who had transformed herself or himself into the creature. this belief is widely diffused; it meets us in europe, asia, and africa. for example, olaus magnus tells us that in livonia, not many years before he wrote, a noble lady had a dispute with her slave on the subject of were-wolves, she doubting whether there were any such things, and he maintaining that there were. to convince her he retired to a room, from which he soon appeared in the form of a wolf. being chased by the dogs into the forest and brought to bay, the wolf defended himself fiercely, but lost an eye in the struggle. next day the slave returned to his mistress in human form but with only one eye.[ ] again, it happened in the year that a gentleman in a village among the mountains of auvergne, looking out of the window one evening, saw a friend of his going out to hunt. he begged him to bring him back some of his bag, and his friend said that he would. well, he had not gone very far before he met a huge wolf. he fired and missed it, and the animal attacked him furiously, but he stood on his guard and with an adroit stroke of his hunting knife he cut off the right fore-paw of the brute, which thereupon fled away and he saw it no more. he returned to his friend, and drawing from his pouch the severed paw of the wolf he found to his horror that it was turned into a woman's hand with a golden ring on one of the fingers. his friend recognized the ring as that of his own wife and went to find her. she was sitting by the fire with her right arm under her apron. as she refused to draw it out, her husband confronted her with the hand and the ring on it. she at once confessed the truth, that it was she in the form of a were-wolf whom the hunter had wounded. her confession was confirmed by applying the severed hand to the stump of her arm, for the two fitted exactly. the angry husband delivered up his wicked wife to justice; she was tried and burnt as a witch.[ ] it is said that a were-wolf, scouring the streets of padua, was caught, and when they cut off his four paws he at once turned into a man, but with both his hands and feet amputated.[ ] again, in a farm of the french district of beauce, there was once a herdsman who never slept at home. these nocturnal absences naturally attracted attention and set people talking. at the same time, by a curious coincidence, a wolf used to prowl round the farm every night and to excite the dogs in the farmyard to fury by thrusting his snout derisively through the cat's hole in the great gate. the farmer had his suspicions and he determined to watch. one night, when the herdsman went out as usual, his master followed him quietly till he came to a hut, where with his own eyes he saw the man put on a broad belt and at once turn into a wolf, which scoured away over the fields. the farmer smiled a sickly sort of smile and went back to the farm. there he took a stout stick and sat down at the cat's hole to wait. he had not long to wait. the dogs barked like mad, a wolf's snout shewed through the hole, down came the stick, out gushed the blood, and a voice was heard to say without the gate, "a good job too. i had still three years to run." next day the herdsman appeared as usual, but he had a scar on his brow, and he never went out again at night.[ ] [werewolves in china.] in china also the faith in similar transformation is reflected in the following tale. a certain man in sung-yang went into the mountains to gather fuel. night fell and he was pursued by two tigers, but scrambled up a tree out of their reach. then said the one tiger to the other tiger, "if we can find chu-tu-shi, we are sure to catch this man up the tree." so off went one of them to find chu-tu-shi, while the other kept watch at the foot of the tree. soon after that another tiger, leaner and longer than the other two, appeared on the scene and made a grab at the man's coat. but fortunately the moon was shining, the man saw the paw, and with a stroke of his axe cut off one of its claws. the tigers roared and fled, one after the other, so the man climbed down the tree and went home. when he told his tale in the village, suspicion naturally fell on the said chu-tu-shi; next day some men went to see him in his house. they were told that they could not see him; for he had been out the night before and had hurt his hand, and he was now ill in bed. so they put two and two together and reported him to the police. the police arrived, surrounded the house, and set fire to it; but chu-tu-shi rose from his bed, turned into a tiger, charged right through the police, and escaped, and to this day nobody ever knew where he went to.[ ] [werewolves among the toradjas of central celebes.] the toradjas of central celebes stand in very great fear of werewolves, that is of men and women, who have the power of transforming their spirits into animals such as cats, crocodiles, wild pigs, apes, deer, and buffaloes, which roam about battening on human flesh, and especially on human livers, while the men and women in their own proper human form are sleeping quietly in their beds at home. among them a man is either born a were-wolf or becomes one by infection; for mere contact with a were-wolf, or even with anything that has been touched by his spittle, is quite enough to turn the most innocent person into a were-wolf; nay even to lean your head against anything against which a were-wolf has leaned his head suffices to do it. the penalty for being a were-wolf is death; but the sentence is never passed until the accused has had a fair trial and his guilt has been clearly demonstrated by an ordeal, which consists in dipping the middle finger into boiling resin. if the finger is not burnt, the man is no were-wolf; but if it is burnt, a werewolf he most assuredly is, so they take him away to a quiet spot and hack him to bits. in cutting him up the executioners are naturally very careful not to be bespattered with his blood, for if that were to happen they would of course be turned into were-wolves themselves. further, they place his severed head beside his hinder-quarters to prevent his soul from coming to life again and pursuing his depredations. so great is the horror of were-wolves among the toradjas, and so great is their fear of contracting the deadly taint by infection, that many persons have assured a missionary that they would not spare their own child if they knew him to be a were-wolf.[ ] now these people, whose faith in were-wolves is not a mere dying or dead superstition but a living, dreadful conviction, tell stories of were-wolves which conform to the type which we are examining. they say that once upon a time a were-wolf came in human shape under the house of a neighbour, while his real body lay asleep as usual at home, and calling out softly to the man's wife made an assignation with her to meet him in the tobacco-field next day. but the husband was lying awake and he heard it all, but he said nothing to anybody. next day chanced to be a busy one in the village, for a roof had to be put on a new house and all the men were lending a hand with the work, and among them to be sure was the were-wolf himself, i mean to say his own human self; there he was up on the roof working away as hard as anybody. but the woman went out to the tobacco-field, and behind went unseen her husband, slinking through the underwood. when they were come to the field, he saw the were-wolf make up to his wife, so out he rushed and struck at him with a stick. quick as thought, the were-wolf turned himself into a leaf, but the man was as nimble, for he caught up the leaf, thrust it into the joint of bamboo, in which he kept his tobacco, and bunged it up tight. then he walked back with his wife to the village, carrying the bamboo with the werewolf in it. when they came to the village, the human body of the were-wolf was still on the roof, working away with the rest. the man put the bamboo in a fire. at that the human were-wolf looked down from the roof and said, "don't do that." the man drew the bamboo from the fire, but a moment afterwards he put it in the fire again, and again the human were-wolf on the roof looked down and cried, "don't do that." but this time the man kept the bamboo in the fire, and when it blazed up, down fell the human were-wolf from the roof as dead as a stone.[ ] again, the following story went round among the toradjas not so very many years ago. the thing happened at soemara, on the gulf of tomori. it was evening and some men sat chatting with a certain hadji mohammad. when it had grown dark, one of the men went out of the house for something or other. a little while afterwards one of the company thought he saw a stag's antlers standing out sharp and clear against the bright evening sky. so hadji mohammad raised his gun and fired. a minute or two afterwards back comes the man who had gone out, and says he to hadji mohammad, "you shot at me and hit me. you must pay me a fine." they searched him but found no wound on him anywhere. then they knew that he was a were-wolf who had turned himself into a stag and had healed the bullet-wound by licking it. however, the bullet had found its billet, for two days afterwards he was a dead man.[ ] [were-wolves in the egyptian sudan.] in sennar, a province of the egyptian sudan, the hammeg and fungi enjoy the reputation of being powerful magicians who can turn themselves into hyaenas and in that guise scour the country at night, howling and gorging themselves. but by day they are men again. it is very dangerous to shoot at such human hyaenas by night. on the jebel bela mountain a soldier once shot at a hyaena and hit it, but it dragged itself off, bleeding, in the darkness and escaped. next morning he followed up the trail of blood and it led him straight to the hut of a man who was everywhere known for a wizard. nothing of the hyaena was to be seen, but the man himself was laid up in the house with a fresh wound and died soon afterwards. and the soldier did not long survive him.[ ] [the were-wolf story in petronius.] but the classical example of these stories is an old roman tale told by petronius. it is put in the mouth of one niceros. late at night he left the town to visit a friend of his, a widow, who lived at a farm five miles down the road. he was accompanied by a soldier, who lodged in the same house, a man of herculean build. when they set out it was near dawn, but the moon shone as bright as day. passing through the outskirts of the town, they came amongst the tombs, which lined the highroad for some distance. there the soldier made an excuse for retiring behind a monument, and niceros sat down to wait for him, humming a tune and counting the tombstones to pass the time. in a little he looked round for his companion, and saw a sight which froze him with horror. the soldier had stripped off his clothes to the last rag and laid them at the side of the highway. then he performed a certain ceremony over them, and immediately was changed into a wolf, and ran howling into the forest. when niceros had recovered himself a little, he went to pick up the clothes, but found that they were turned to stone. more dead than alive, he drew his sword, and, striking at every shadow cast by the tombstones on the moonlit road, he tottered to his friend's house. he entered it like a ghost, to the surprise of the widow, who wondered to see him abroad so late. "if you had only been here a little ago," said she, "you might have been of some use. for a wolf came tearing into the yard, scaring the cattle and bleeding them like a butcher. but he did not get off so easily, for the servant speared him in the neck." after hearing these words, niceros felt that he could not close an eye, so he hurried away home again. it was now broad daylight, but when he came to the place where the clothes had been turned to stone, he found only a pool of blood. he reached home, and there lay the soldier in bed like an ox in the shambles, and the doctor was bandaging his neck. "then i knew," said niceros, "that the man was a were-wolf, and never again could i break bread with him, no, not if you had killed me for it."[ ] [witches like were-wolves can temporarily transform themselves into animals.] these stories may help us to understand the custom of burning a bewitched animal, which has been observed in our own country down to recent times, if indeed it is even now extinct. for a close parallel may be traced in some respects between witches and were-wolves. like were-wolves, witches are commonly supposed to be able to transform themselves temporarily into animals for the purpose of playing their mischievous pranks;[ ] and like were-wolves they can in their animal disguise be compelled to unmask themselves to any one who succeeds in drawing their blood. in either case the animal-skin is conceived as a cloak thrown round the wicked enchanter; and if you can only pierce the skin, whether by the stab of a knife or the shot of a gun, you so rend the disguise that the man or woman inside of it stands revealed in his or her true colours. strictly speaking, the stab should be given on the brow or between the eyes in the case both of a witch and of a were-wolf;[ ] and it is vain to shoot at a were-wolf unless you have had the bullet blessed in a chapel of st. hubert or happen to be carrying about you, without knowing it, a four-leaved clover; otherwise the bullet will merely rebound from the were-wolf like water from a duck's back.[ ] however, in armenia they say that the were-wolf, who in that country is usually a woman, can be killed neither by shot nor by steel; the only way of delivering the unhappy woman from her bondage is to get hold of her wolf's skin and burn it; for that naturally prevents her from turning into a wolf again. but it is not easy to find the skin, for she is cunning enough to hide it by day.[ ] so with witches, it is not only useless but even dangerous to shoot at one of them when she has turned herself into a hare; if you do, the gun may burst in your hand or the shot come back and kill you. the only way to make quite sure of hitting a witch-animal is to put a silver sixpence or a silver button in your gun.[ ] for example, it happened one evening that a native of the island of tiree was going home with a new gun, when he saw a black sheep running towards him across the plain of reef. something about the creature excited his suspicion, so he put a silver sixpence in his gun and fired at it. instantly the black sheep became a woman with a drugget coat wrapt round her head. the man knew her quite well, for she was a witch who had often persecuted him before in the shape of a cat.[ ] [wounds inflicted on an animal into which a witch has transformed herself are inflicted on the witch herself.] again, the wounds inflicted on a witch-hare or a witch-cat are to be seen on the witch herself, just as the wounds inflicted on a were-wolf are to be seen on the man himself when he has doffed the wolfs skin. to take a few instances out of a multitude, a young man in the island of lismore was out shooting. when he was near balnagown loch, he started a hare and fired at it. the animal gave an unearthly scream, and then for the first time it occurred to him that there were no real hares in lismore. he threw away his gun in terror and fled home; and next day he heard that a notorious witch was laid up with a broken leg. a man need be no conjuror to guess how she came by that broken leg.[ ] again, at thurso certain witches used to turn themselves into cats and in that shape to torment an honest man. one night he lost patience, whipped out his broadsword, and put them to flight. as they were scurrying away he struck at them and cut off a leg of one of the cats. to his astonishment it was a woman's leg, and next morning he found one of the witches short of the corresponding limb.[ ] glanvil tells a story of "an old woman in cambridge-shire, whose astral spirit, coming into a man's house (as he was sitting alone at the fire) in the shape of an huge cat, and setting her self before the fire, not far from him, he stole a stroke at the back of it with a fire-fork, and seemed to break the back of it, but it scambled from him, and vanisht he knew not how. but such an old woman, a reputed witch, was found dead in her bed that very night, with her back broken, as i have heard some years ago credibly reported."[ ] in yorkshire during the latter half of the nineteenth century a parish clergyman was told a circumstantial story of an old witch named nanny, who was hunted in the form of a hare for several miles over the westerdale moors and kept well away from the dogs, till a black one joined the pack and succeeded in taking a bit out of one of the hare's legs. that was the end of the chase, and immediately afterwards the sportsmen found old nanny laid up in bed with a sore leg. on examining the wounded limb they discovered that the hurt was precisely in that part of it which in the hare had been bitten by the black dog and, what was still more significant, the wound had all the appearance of having been inflicted by a dog's teeth. so they put two and two together.[ ] the same sort of thing is often reported in lincolnshire. "one night," said a servant from kirton lindsey, "my father and brother saw a cat in front of them. father knew it was a witch, and took a stone and hammered it. next day the witch had her face all tied up, and shortly afterwards died." again, a bardney bumpkin told how a witch in his neighbourhood could take all sorts of shapes. one night a man shot a hare, and when he went to the witch's house he found her plastering a wound just where he had shot the hare.[ ] so in county leitrim, in ireland, they say that a hare pursued by dogs fled to a house near at hand, but just as it was bolting in at the door one of the dogs came up with it and nipped a piece out of its leg. the hunters entered the house and found no hare there but only an old woman, and her side was bleeding; so they knew what to think of her.[ ] [wounded witches in the vosges.] again, in the vosges mountains a great big hare used to come out every evening to take the air at the foot of the mont des fourches. all the sportsmen of the neighbourhood tried their hands on that hare for a month, but not one of them could hit it. at last one marksman, more knowing than the rest, loaded his gun with some pellets of a consecrated wafer in addition to the usual pellets of lead. that did the trick. if puss was not killed outright, she was badly hurt, and limped away uttering shrieks and curses in a human voice. later it transpired that she was no other than the witch of a neighbouring village who had the power of putting on the shape of any animal she pleased.[ ] again, a hunter of travexin, in the vosges, fired at a hare and almost shot away one of its hind legs. nevertheless the creature contrived to escape into a cottage through the open door. immediately a child's cries were heard to proceed from the cottage, and the hunter could distinguish these words, "daddy, daddy, come quick! poor mammy has her leg broken."[ ] [wounded witches in swabia.] in swabia the witches are liable to accidents of the same sort when they go about their business in the form of animals. for example, there was a soldier who was betrothed to a young woman and used to visit her every evening when he was off duty. but one evening the girl told him that he must not come to the house on friday nights, because it was never convenient to her to see him then. this roused his suspicion, and the very next friday night he set out to go to his sweetheart's house. on the way a white cat ran up to him in the street and dogged his steps, and when the animal would not make off he drew his sword and slashed off one of its paws. on that the cat bolted. the soldier walked on, but when he came to his sweetheart's house he found her in bed, and when he asked her what was the matter, she gave a very confused reply. noticing stains of blood on the bed, he drew down the coverlet and saw that the girl was weltering in her gore, for one of her feet was lopped off. "so that's what's the matter with you, you witch!" said he, and turned on his heel and left her, and within three days she was dead.[ ] again, a farmer in the neighbourhood of wiesensteig frequently found in his stable a horse over and above the four horses he actually owned. he did not know what to make of it and mentioned the matter to the smith. the smith said quietly, "the next time you see a fifth horse in the stable, just you send for me." well, it was not long before the strange horse was there again, and the farmer at once sent for the smith. he came bringing four horse-shoes with him, and said, "i'm sure the nag has no shoes; i'll shoe her for you." no sooner said than done. however, the smith overreached himself; for next day when his friend the farmer paid him a visit he found the smith's own wife prancing about with horse-shoes nailed on her hands and feet. but it was the last time she ever appeared in the shape of a horse.[ ] [the miller's wife and the two grey cats.] once more, in silesia they tell of a miller's apprentice, a sturdy and industrious young fellow, who set out on his travels. one day he came to a mill, and the miller told him that he wanted an apprentice but did not care to engage one, because hitherto all his apprentices had run away in the night, and when he came down in the morning the mill was at a stand. however, he liked the looks of the young chap and took him into his pay. but what the new apprentice heard about the mill and his predecessors was not encouraging; so the first night when it was his duty to watch in the mill he took care to provide himself with an axe and a prayer-book, and while he kept one eye on the whirring, humming wheels he kept the other on the good book, which he read by the flickering light of a candle set on a table. so the hours at first passed quietly with nothing to disturb him but the monotonous drone and click of the machinery. but on the stroke of twelve, as he was still reading with the axe lying on the table within reach, the door opened and in came two grey cats mewing, an old one and a young one. they sat down opposite him, but it was easy to see that they did not like his wakefulness and the prayer-book and the axe. suddenly the old cat reached out a paw and made a grab at the axe, but the young chap was too quick for her and held it fast. then the young cat tried to do the same for the prayer-book, but the apprentice gripped it tight. thus balked, the two cats set up such a squalling that the young fellow could hardly say his prayers. just before one o'clock the younger cat sprang on the table and fetched a blow with her right paw at the candle to put it out. but the apprentice struck at her with his axe and sliced the paw off, whereupon the two cats vanished with a frightful screech. the apprentice wrapped the paw up in paper to shew it to his master. very glad the miller was next morning when he came down and found the mill going and the young chap at his post. the apprentice told him what had happened in the night and gave him the parcel containing the cat's paw. but when the miller opened it, what was the astonishment of the two to find in it no cat's paw but a woman's hand! at breakfast the miller's young wife did not as usual take her place at the table. she was ill in bed, and the doctor had to be called in to bind up her right arm, because in hewing wood, so they said, she had made a slip and cut off her own right hand. but the apprentice packed up his traps and turned his back on that mill before the sun had set.[ ] [the analogy of were-wolves confirms the view that the reason for burning bewitched animals is either to burn the witch or to compel her to appear.] it would no doubt be easy to multiply instances, all equally well attested and authentic, of the transformation of witches into animals and of the damage which the women themselves have sustained through injuries inflicted on the animals.[ ] but the foregoing evidence may suffice to establish the complete parallelism between witches and were-wolves in these respects. the analogy appears to confirm the view that the reason for burning a bewitched animal alive is a belief that the witch herself is in the animal, and that by burning it you either destroy the witch completely or at least unmask her and compel her to reassume her proper human shape, in which she is naturally far less potent for mischief than when she is careering about the country in the likeness of a cat, a hare, a horse, or what not. this principle is still indeed clearly recognized by people in oldenburg, though, as might be expected, they do not now carry out the principle to its logical conclusion by burning the bewitched animal or person alive; instead they resort to a feeble and, it must be added, perfectly futile subterfuge dictated by a mistaken humanity or a fear of the police. "when anything living is bewitched in a house, for example, children or animals, they burn or boil the nobler inwards of animals, especially the hearts, but also the lungs or the liver. if animals have died, they take the inwards of one of them or of an animal of the same kind slaughtered for the purpose; but if that is not possible they take the inwards of a cock, by preference a black one. the heart, lung, or liver is stuck all over with needles, or marked with a cross cut, or placed on the fire in a tightly closed vessel, strict silence being observed and doors and windows well shut. when the heart boils or is reduced to ashes, the witch must appear, for during the boiling she feels the burning pain. she either begs to be released or seeks to borrow something, for example, salt or a coal of fire, or she takes the lid off the pot, or tries to induce the person whose spell is on her to speak. they say, too, that a woman comes with a spinning-wheel. if it is a sheep that has died, you proceed in the same way with a tripe from its stomach and prick it with needles while it is on the boil. instead of boiling it, some people nail the heart to the highest rafter of the house, or lay it on the edge of the hearth, in order that it may dry up, no doubt because the same thing happens to the witch. we may conjecture that other sympathetic means of destruction are employed against witchcraft. the following is expressly reported: the heart of a calf that has died is stuck all over with needles, enclosed in a bag, and thrown into flowing water before sunset."[ ] [there is the same reason for burning bewitched things; similarly by burning alive a person whose form a witch has assumed, you compel the witch to disclose herself.] and the same thing holds good also of inanimate objects on which a witch has cast her spell. in wales they say that "if a thing is bewitched, burn it, and immediately afterwards the witch will come to borrow something of you. if you give what she asks, she will go free; if you refuse it, she will burn, and a mark will be on her body the next day."[ ] so, too, in oldenburg, "the burning of things that are bewitched or that have been received from witches is another way of breaking the spell. it is often said that the burning should take place at a cross-road, and in several places cross-roads are shewn where the burning used to be performed.... as a rule, while the things are burning, the guilty witches appear, though not always in their own shape. at the burning of bewitched butter they often appear as cockchafers and can be killed with impunity. victuals received from witches may be safely consumed if only you first burn a portion of them."[ ] for example, a young man in oldenburg was wooing a girl, and she gave him two fine apples as a gift. not feeling any appetite at the time, he put the apples in his pocket, and when he came home he laid them by in a chest. two or three days afterwards he remembered the apples and went to the chest to fetch them. but when he would have put his hand on them, what was his horror to find in their stead two fat ugly toads in the chest. he hastened to a wise man and asked him what he should do with the toads. the man told him to boil the toads alive, but while he was doing so he must be sure on no account to lend anything out of the house. well, just as he had the toads in a pot on the fire and the water began to grow nicely warm, who should come to the door but the girl who had given him the apples, and she wished to borrow something; but he refused to give her anything, rated her as a witch, and drove her out of the house. a little afterwards in came the girl's mother and begged with tears in her eyes for something or other; but he turned her out also. the last word she said to him was that he should at least spare her daughter's life; but he paid no heed to her and let the toads boil till they fell to bits. next day word came that the girl was dead.[ ] can any reasonable man doubt that the witch herself was boiled alive in the person of the toads? [the burning alive of a supposed witch in ireland in .] moreover, just as a witch can assume the form of an animal, so she can assume the form of some other human being, and the likeness is sometimes so good that it is difficult to detect the fraud. however, by burning alive the person whose shape the witch has put on, you force the witch to disclose herself, just as by burning alive the bewitched animal you in like manner oblige the witch to appear. this principle may perhaps be unknown to science, falsely so called, but it is well understood in ireland and has been acted on within recent years. in march a peasant named michael cleary, residing at ballyvadlea, a remote and lonely district in the county of tipperary, burned his wife bridget cleary alive over a slow fire on the kitchen hearth in the presence of and with the active assistance of some neighbours, including the woman's own father and several of her cousins. they thought that she was not bridget cleary at all, but a witch, and that when they held her down on the fire she would vanish up the chimney; so they cried, while she was burning, "away she goes! away she goes!" even when she lay quite dead on the kitchen floor (for contrary to the general expectation she did not disappear up the chimney), her husband still believed that the woman lying there was a witch, and that his own dear wife had gone with the fairies to the old _rath_ or fort on the hill of kylenagranagh, where he would see her at night riding a grey horse and roped to the saddle, and that he would cut the ropes, and that she would stay with him ever afterwards. so he went with some friends to the fort night after night, taking a big table-knife with him to cut the ropes. but he never saw his wife again. he and the men who had held the woman on the fire were arrested and tried at clonmel for wilful murder in july ; they were all found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to various terms of penal servitude and imprisonment; the sentence passed on michael cleary was twenty years' penal servitude.[ ] [sometimes bewitched animals are buried alive instead of being burned.] however, our british peasants, it must be confessed, have not always acted up to the strict logical theory which seems to call for death by fire as the proper treatment both of bewitched animals and of witches. sometimes, perhaps in moments of weakness, they have merely buried the bewitched animals alive instead of burning them. for example, in the year , "many cattle having died, john brughe and neane nikclerith, also one of the initiated, conjoined their mutual skill for the safety of the herd. the surviving animals were drove past a tub of water containing two enchanted stones: and each was sprinkled from the liquid contents in its course. one, however, being unable to walk, 'was by force drawin out at the byre dure; and the said johnne with nikclerith smelling the nois thereof said it wald not leive, caused are hoill to be maid in maw greane, quhilk was put quick in the hole and maid all the rest of the cattell theireftir to go over that place: and in that devillische maner, be charmeing,' they were cured."[ ] again, during the prevalence of a murrain about the year , certain persons proposed to stay the plague with the help of a celebrated "cureing stane" of which the laird of lee was the fortunate owner. but from this they were dissuaded by one who "had sene bestiall curet be taking are quik seik ox, and making are deip pitt, and bureing him therin, and be calling the oxin and bestiall over that place." indeed issobell young, the mother of these persons, had herself endeavoured to check the progress of the distemper by taking "ane quik ox with ane catt, and ane grit quantitie of salt," and proceeding "to burie the ox and catt quik with the salt, in ane deip hoill in the grund, as ane sacrifice to the devill, that the rest of the guidis might be fred of the seiknes or diseases."[ ] writing towards the end of the eighteenth century, john ramsay of ochtertyre tells us that "the violent death even of a brute is in some cases held to be of great avail. there is a disease called the _black spauld_, which sometimes rages like a pestilence among black cattle, the symptoms of which are a mortification in the legs and a corruption of the mass of blood. among the other engines of superstition that are directed against this fatal malady, the first cow seized with it is commonly buried alive, and the other cattle are forced to pass backwards and forwards over the pit. at other times the heart is taken out of the beast alive, and then the carcass is buried. it is remarkable that the leg affected is cut off, and hung up in some part of the house or byre, where it remains suspended, notwithstanding the seeming danger of infection. there is hardly a house in mull where these may not be seen. this practice seems to have taken its rise antecedent to christianity, as it reminds us of the pagan custom of hanging up offerings in their temples. in breadalbane, when a cow is observed to have symptoms of madness, there is recourse had to a peculiar process. they tie the legs of the mad creature, and throw her into a pit dug at the door of the fold. after covering the hole with earth, a large fire is kindled upon it; and the rest of the cattle are driven out, and forced to pass through the fire one by one."[ ] in this latter custom we may suspect that the fire kindled on the grave of the buried cow was originally made by the friction of wood, in other words, that it was a need-fire. again, writing in the year , sir arthur mitchell tells us that "for the cure of the murrain in cattle, one of the herd is still sacrificed for the good of the whole. this is done by burying it alive. i am assured that within the last ten years such a barbarism occurred in the county of moray."[ ] [calves killed and buried to save the rest of the herd.] sometimes, however, the animal has not even been buried alive, it has been merely killed and then buried. in this emasculated form the sacrifice, we may say with confidence, is absolutely useless for the purpose of stopping a murrain. nevertheless, it has been tried. thus in lincolnshire, when the cattle plague was so prevalent in , there was, i believe, not a single cowshed in marshland but had its wicken cross over the door; and other charms more powerful than this were in some cases resorted to. i never heard of the use of the needfire in the marsh, though it was, i believe, used on the wolds not many miles off. but i knew of at least one case in which a calf was killed and solemnly buried feet pointing upwards at the threshold of the cowshed. when our garthman told me of this, i pointed out to him that the charm had failed, for the disease had not spared that shed. but he promptly replied, "yis, but owd edwards were a soight too cliver; he were that mean he slew nobbutt a wankling cauf as were bound to deny anny road; if he had nobbutt tekken his best cauf it wud hev worked reight enuff; 'tain't in reason that owd skrat 'ud be hanselled wi' wankling draffle."[ ] notes: [ ] see jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] (berlin, - ), i. , , . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] in the following survey of these fire-customs i follow chiefly w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, kap. vi. pp. _sqq._ compare also j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sqq._; walter e. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; f. vogt, "scheibentreiben und frühlingsfeuer," _zeitschrift des vereins für volkskunde_, iii. ( ) pp. - ; _ibid._ iv. ( ) pp. - . [ ] _the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] the first sunday in lent is known as _invocavit_ from the first word of the mass for the day (o. frh. von reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus böhmen_, p. ). [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), i. - ; e. monseur, _le folklore wallon_ (brussels, n.d.), pp. _sq._ [ ] Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), pp. . for the loan of this work i am indebted to mrs. wherry of st. peter's terrace, cambridge. [ ] É. hublard, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a. meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), p. . [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . the popular name for the bonfires in the upper vosges (_hautes-vosges_) is _chavandes_. [ ] e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ the local name for these bonfires is _bures_. [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ in bresse the custom was similar. see _la bresse louhannaise, bulletin mensuel, organe de la société d'agriculture et d'horticulture de l'arrondissement de louhans_, mars, , pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ p. . the usual name for the bonfires is _chevannes_ or _schvannes_; but in some places they are called _foulères, foualères, failles_, or _bourdifailles_ (ch. beauquier, _op. cit._ p. ). but the sunday is called the sunday of the _brandons, bures, bordes_, or _boidès_, according to the place. the _brandons_ are the torches which are carried about the streets and the fields; the bonfires, as we have seen, bear another name. a curious custom, observed on the same sunday in franche-comté, requires that couples married within the year should distribute boiled peas to all the young folks of both sexes who demand them at the door. the lads and lasses go about from house to house, making the customary request; in some places they wear masks or are otherwise disguised. see ch. beauquier, _op. cit._ pp. - . [ ] curiously enough, while the singular is _granno-mio_, the plural is _grannas-mias_. [ ] dr. pommerol, "la fête des brandons et le dieu gaulois grannus," _bulletins et mémoires de la société d'anthropologie de paris_, v. série, ii. ( ) pp. - . [ ] _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] h. dessau, _inscriptiones latinae selectae_, vol. ii. pars i. (berlin, ) pp. _sq._, nos. - . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), p. , quoting dom grenier, _histoire de la province de picardie_. [ ] É. hublard, _op. cit._ p. , quoting dom grenier. [ ] m. desgranges, "usages du canton de bonneval," _mémoires de la société royale des antiquaires de france_, i. (paris, ) pp. - ; felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _sq.; la bresse louhannaise_, mars, , p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ a similar, though not identical, custom prevailed at valenciennes (_ibid._ p. ). [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] désiré monnier, _traditions populaires comparées_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_ (paris, ). i. _sqq._ [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du rocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, ), ii. _sq._ for more evidence of customs of this sort observed in various parts of france on the first sunday in lent, see madame clément, _histoire des fêtes civiles et religieuses_, etc., _du département du nord_*[ ] (cambrai, ), pp. _sqq._; Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (trèves, - ), i. - ; n. hocker, in _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) p. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] n. hocker, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] f.j. vonbun, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (chur, ), p. ; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sqq._; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. _sqq._, _sqq._; _bavaria, landes-und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), ii. , pp. _sq._; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. , § ; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ one of the popular german names for the first sunday in lent is white sunday, which is not to be confused with the first sunday after easter, which also goes by the name of white sunday (e. meier, _op. cit._ p. ; a. birlinger, _op. cit._ ii. ). [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus,_ pp. _sq._ [ ] w. kolbe, _hessiche volks-sitten und gebräuche_*[ ] (marburg, ), p. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. , quoting hocker, _des mosellandes geschichten, sagen und legenden_ (trier, ), pp. _sqq._ compare w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. ; and below, pp. _sq._ thus it appears that the ceremony of rolling the fiery wheel down hill was observed twice a year at konz, once on the first sunday in lent, and once at midsummer. [ ] h. herzog, _schweizerische volksfeste, sitten und gebräuche_ (aarau, ), pp. - ; e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv für volkskunde_, xi. ( ) pp. - ; _id., feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . see _the dying god_, p. . [ ] j. h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), ii. , § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] christian schneller, _märchen und sagen aus wälschtirol_ (innsbruck, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, pp. - ; karl freiherr von leoprechting, _aus dem lechrain_ (munich, ), pp. _sq._; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), i. _sq._; montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. _sq._; ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sq._; _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), pp. _sq._, § ; ignaz v. zingerle, _sitten, bräuche und meinungen des tiroler volkes_*[ ] (innsbruck, ), p. , §§ - ; w. kolbe, _hessische volks-sitten und gebräuche_*[ ] (marburg, ), pp. _sqq._; _county folk-lore, printed extracts, leicestershire and rutland_, collected by c.j. billson (london, ), pp. _sq._; a. tiraboschi, "usi pasquali nel bergamasco," _archivio per lo studio delle tradizione popolari_, i. ( ) pp. _sq._ the ecclesiastical custom of lighting the paschal or easter candle is very fully described by mr. h.j. feasey, _ancient english holy week ceremonial_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ these candles were sometimes of prodigious size; in the cathedrals of norwich and durham, for example, they reached almost to the roof, from which they had to be lighted. often they went by the name of the judas light or the judas candle; and sometimes small waxen figures of judas were hung on them. see h.j. feasey, _op. cit._ pp. , _sqq._ as to the ritual of the new fire at st. peter's in rome, see r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i. ; and as to the early history of the rite in the catholic church, see mgr. l. duchesne, _origines du culte chrétien_*[ ] (paris, ), pp. - .] [ ] _bavaria, landes und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] gennaro finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] vincenzo dorsa, _la tradizione greco-latina negli usi e nelle credenze popolari della calabria citeriore_ (cosenza, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] k. seifart, _sagen, märchen, schwänke und gebräuche aits stadt und stift hildesheim_*[ ] (hildesheim, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] m. lexer, "volksüberlieferungen aus dem lesachthal in karnten," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, iii. ( ) p. . [ ] _the popish kingdome or reigne of antichrist, written in latin verse by thomas naogeorgus and englyshed by barnabe googe_, , edited by r.c. hope (london, ), p. , _recto._ the title of the original poem was _regnum papisticum_. the author, thomas kirchmeyer (naogeorgus, as he called himself), died in . the book is a satire on the abuses and superstitions of the catholic church. only one perfect copy of googe's translation is known to exist: it is in the university library at cambridge. see mr. r.c. hope's introduction to his reprint of this rare work, pp. xv. _sq._ the words, "then clappers ceasse, and belles are set againe at libertée," refer to the custom in catholic countries of silencing the church bells for two days from noon on maundy thursday to noon on easter saturday and substituting for their music the harsh clatter of wooden rattles. see r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i, _sq._ according to another account the church bells are silent from midnight on the wednesday preceding maundy thursday till matins on easter day. see w. smith and s. cheetham, _dictionary of christian antiquities_ (london, - ), ii. , referring to _ordo roman_. i. _u.s._ [ ] r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i. . [ ] miss jessie l. weston, "the _scoppio del carro_ at florence," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - ; "lo scoppio del carro," _resurrezione, numero unico del sabato santo_ (florence, april, ), p. (giving a picture of the car with its pyramid of fire-works). the latter paper was kindly sent to me from florence by my friend professor w.j. lewis. i have also received a letter on the subject from signor carlo placci, dated (or ) september, , via alfieri, firenze. [ ] frederick starr, "holy week in mexico," _the journal of american folk-lore_, xii. ( ) pp. _sq._; c. boyson taylor, "easter in many lands," _everybody's magazine_, new york, , p. . i have to thank mr. s.s. cohen, of walnut street, philadelphia, for sending me a cutting from the latter magazine. [ ] k. von den steinen, _unter den naturvölkern zentral-brasiliens_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; e. montet, "religion et superstition dans l'amérique du sud," _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xxxii. ( ) p. . [ ] j.j. von tschudi, _peru, reiseskizzen aus den jahren - _ (st. gallen, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] h. candelier, _rio-hacha et les indiens goajires_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] henry maundrell, "a journey from aleppo to jerusalem at easter, a.d. ," in bohn's _early travellers in palestine_ (london, ), pp. - ; mgr. auvergne, in _annales de la propagation de la foi_, x. ( ) pp. _sq._; a.p. stanley, _sinai and palestine_, second edition (london, ), pp. - ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. - ; a.w. kinglake, _eothen_, chapter xvi. pp. - (temple classics edition); father n. abougit, s.j., "le feu du saint-sépulcre," _les missions catholiques_, viii. ( ) pp. _sq._; rev. c.t. wilson, _peasant life in the holy land_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; p. saint-yves, "le renouvellement du feu sacré," _revue des traditions populaires_, xxvii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ the distribution of the new fire in the church of the holy sepulchre is the subject of a picture by holman hunt. from some printed notes on the picture, with which mrs. holman hunt was so kind as to furnish me, it appears that the new fire is carried by horsemen to bethlehem and jaffa, and that a russian ship conveys it from jaffa to odessa, whence it is distributed all over the country. [ ] father x. abougit, s.j., "le feu du saint-sépulcre," _les missions catholiques_, viii. ( ) pp. - . [ ] i have described the ceremony as i witnessed it at athens, on april th, . compare _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . having been honoured, like other strangers, with a place on the platform, i did not myself detect lucifer at work among the multitude below; i merely suspected his insidious presence. [ ] w.h.d. rouse, "folk-lore from the southern sporades," _folk-lore_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] mrs. a.e. gardner was so kind as to send me a photograph of a theban judas dangling from a gallows and partially enveloped in smoke. the photograph was taken at thebes during the easter celebration of . [ ] g.f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ) p. . [ ] cirbied, "mémoire sur la gouvernment et sur la religion des anciens arméniens," _mémoires publiées par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, ii. ( ) pp. - ; manuk abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_ (leipsic, ), pp. - . the ceremony is said to be merely a continuation of an old heathen festival which was held at the beginning of spring in honour of the fire-god mihr. a bonfire was made in a public place, and lamps kindled at it were kept burning throughout the year in each of the fire-god's temples. [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. , ii. ; _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. , , , , . [ ] garcilasso de la vega, _royal commentaries of the yncas_ translated by (sir) clements r. markham (hakluyt society, london, - ), vol. ii. pp. - . compare juan de velasco, "histoire du royaume de quito," in h. ternaux-compans's _voyages, relations et mémoires originaux pour servir à l'histoire de la découverte de l'amérique_, xviii. (paris, ) p. . [ ] b. de sahagun, _histoire générale des choses de la nouvelle espagne_, traduite par d. jourdanet et r. simeon (paris, ), bk. ii. chapters and , pp. , ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique-centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] mrs. matilda coxe stevenson, "the zuñi indians," _twenty-third annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), pp. - , - , especially pp. , , _sq._, _sq._, _sq._, , _sq._, _sq._ i have already described these ceremonies in _totemism and exogamy_, iii. _sq._ among the hopi (moqui) indians of walpi, another pueblo village of this region, new fire is ceremonially kindled by friction in november. see jesse walter fewkes, "the tusayan new fire ceremony," _proceedings of the boston society of natural history_, xxvi. - ; _id._, "the group of tusayan ceremonials called _katcinas," fifteenth annual report of the bureau of ethnology_ (washington, ), p. ; _id._, "hopi _katcinas," twenty-first annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] henry r. schoolcraft, _notes on the iroquois_ (albany, ), p. . schoolcraft did not know the date of the ceremony, but he conjectured that it fell at the end of the iroquois year, which was a lunar year of twelve or thirteen months. he says: "that the close of the lunar series should have been the period of putting out the fire, and the beginning of the next, the time of relumination, from new fire, is so consonant to analogy in the tropical tribes, as to be probable" (_op. cit._ p. ). [ ] c.f. hall, _life with the esquimaux_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] franz boas, "the eskimo of baffin land and hudson bay," _bulletin of the american museum of natural, history_, xv. part i. (new york, ) p. . [ ] g. nachtigal, _saharâ und sûdân_, iii. (leipsic, ) p. . [ ] major c. percival, "tropical africa, on the border line of mohamedan civilization," _the geographical journal_, xlii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] adrien germain, "note sur zanzibar et la côte orientale de l'afrique," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), v. série xvi. ( ) p. ; _les missions catholiques_, iii. ( ) p. ; charles new, _life, wanderings, and labours in eastern africa_ (london, ), p. ; jerome becker, _la vie en afrique_ (paris and brussels, ), ii. ; o. baumann, _usambara und seine nachbargebiele_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; c. velten, _sitten und gebräucheaer suaheli_ (göttingen, ), pp. - . [ ] duarte barbosa, _description of the coasts of east africa and malabar_ (hakluyt society, london, ), p. ; _id._, in _records of south-eastern africa_, collected by g. mccall theal, vol. i. ( ) p. ; damião de goes, "chronicle of the most fortunate king dom emanuel," in _records of south-eastern africa_, collected by g. mccall theal, vol. iii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the name benametapa (more correctly _monomotapa_) appears to have been the regular title of the paramount chief, which the portuguese took to be the name of the country. the people over whom he ruled seem to have been the bantu tribe of the makalanga in the neighbourhood of sofala. see g. mccall theal, _records of south-eastern africa_, vii. ( ) pp. - . it is to their custom of annually extinguishing and relighting the fire that montaigne refers in his essay (i. , vol. i. p. of charpentier's edition), though he mentions no names. [ ] sir h.h. johnson, _british central africa_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] w.h.r. rivers, _the todas_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] lieut. r. stewart, "notes on northern cachar," _journal of the asiatic society of bengal_ xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] a. bastian, _die völker des östlichen asien_, ii. (leipsic, ) pp. _sq._; shway yoe, _the burman_ (london, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] g. schlegel, _uranographie chinoise_ (the hague and leyden, ), pp. - ; c. puini, "il fuoco nella tradizione degli antichi cinesi," _giornale della società asiatica italiana_, i. ( ) pp. - ; j.j.m. de groot, _les fétes annuellement célébrées à Émoui (amoy)_ (paris, ), i. _sqq._ the notion that fire can be worn out with age meets us also in brahman ritual. see the _satapatha brahmana_, translated by julius eggeling, part i. (oxford, ) p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xii.). [ ] w.g. aston, _shinto, the way of the gods_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, compare p. . the wands in question are sticks whittled near the top into a mass of adherent shavings; they go by the name of _kedzurikake_ ("part-shaved"), and resemble the sacred _inao_ of the aino. see w.g. aston, _op. cit._ p. ; and as to the _inao_, see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. , with note . [ ] ovid, _fasti_, iii. ; homer, _iliad_, i. , _sqq._ [ ] philostiatus, _heroica_, xx. . [ ] ovid, _fasti_, iii. _sq._; macrobius, _saturn_, i. . . [ ] festus, ed. c.o. müller (leipsic, ), p. , _s.v._ "ignis." plutarch describes a method of rekindling the sacred fire by means of the sun's rays reflected from a hollow mirror (_numa_, ); but he seems to be referring to a greek rather than to the roman custom. the rule of celibacy imposed on the vestals, whose duty it was to relight the sacred fire as well as to preserve it when it was once made, is perhaps explained by a superstition current among french peasants that if a girl can blow up a smouldering candle into a flame she is a virgin, but that if she fails to do so, she is not. see jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. ; b. souché, _croyances, présages et traditions diverses_ (niort, ), p. . at least it seems more likely that the rule sprang from a superstition of this sort than from a simple calculation of expediency, as i formerly suggested (_journal of philology_, xiv. ( ) p. ). compare _the magic art and the evolution of kings>_ ii. _sqq._ [ ] geoffrey keating, d.d., _the history of ireland, translated from the original gaelic, and copiously annotated_, by john o'mahony (new york, ), p. , with the translator's note. compare (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_, second edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. ; a. kuhn, _sagen, gebräuche und märchen aus westfalen_ (leipsic, ), ii. _sqq.; id., märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; j.d.h. temme, _die volkssagen der altmark_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; k. lynker, _deutsche sagen und sitten in hessischen gauen_*[ ] (cassel and göttingen, ), p. ; h. pröhle, _harzbilder_ (leipsic, ), p. ; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), pp. - ; w. kolbe, _hessische volks-sitten und gebräuche_ (marburg, ), pp. - ; f.a. reimann, _deutsche volksfeste_ (weimar, ), p. ; "sitten und gebräuche in duderstadt," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sitten-kunde_, ii. ( ) p. ; k. seifart, _sagen, märchen, schwänke und gebräuche aus stadt und stift hildesheim_*[ ] (hildesheim, ), pp. , ; o. hartung, "zur volkskunde aus anhalt," _zeitschrift des vereins für volkskunde_, vii. ( ) p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), ii. p. _sq._, § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ ii. p. , § . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] (berlin, - ), i. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_, pp. _sq._ [ ] h. pröhle, _harzbilder_ (leipsic, ), p. ; _id._, in _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) p. ; a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_ p. . compare j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. ; j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . the two latter writers only state that before the fires were kindled it was customary to hunt squirrels in the woods. [ ] a. kuhn, _l.c._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), iii. . [ ] see above, pp. _sq._, . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, pp. _sq._ [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_, iii. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § . [ ] f. panzer, _op. cit._ ii. pp. _sq._, §§ , . the customs observed at these places and at althenneberg are described together by w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. p. , § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] elard hugo meyer, _badisches volksleben_ (strasburg, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ see further below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.w. wolf, _beiträge sur deutschen mythologie_, i. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. müller, _beiträge sur volkskunde der deutschen in mahren_ (vienna and olmütz, ), pp. , _sq._ in wagstadt, a town of austrian silesia, a boy in a red waistcoat used to play the part of judas on the wednesday before good friday. he was chased from before the church door by the other school children, who pursued him through the streets with shouts and the noise of rattles and clappers till they reached a certain suburb, where they always caught and beat him because he had betrayed the redeemer. see anton peter, _volksthümliches aus österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. _sq._; paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, from the mss. of john ramsay, esq., of ochtertyre, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. - . as to the _tein-eigin_ or need-fire, see below, pp. _sqq_. the etymology of the word beltane is uncertain; the popular derivation of the first part from the phoenician baal is absurd. see, for example, john graham dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._: "the recognition of the pagan divinity baal, or bel, the sun, is discovered through innumerable etymological sources. in the records of scottish history, down to the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, multiplied prohibitions were issued from the fountains of ecclesiastical ordinances, against kindling _bailfires_, of which the origin cannot be mistaken. the festival of this divinity was commemorated in scotland until the latest date." modern scholars are not agreed as to the derivation of the name beltane. see rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._; j.a. macculloch, _the religion of the ancient celts_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] "_bal-tein_ signifies the _fire of baal. baal_ or _ball_ is the only word in gaelic for _a globe_. this festival was probably in honour of the sun, whose return, in his apparent annual course, they celebrated, on account of his having such a visible influence, by his genial warmth, on the productions of the earth. that the caledonians paid a superstitious respect to the sun, as was the practice among many other nations, is evident, not only by the sacrifice at baltein, but upon many other occasions. when a highlander goes to bathe, or to drink waters out of a consecrated fountain, he must always approach by going round the place, _from east to west on the south side_, in imitation of the apparent diurnal motion of the sun. when the dead are laid in the earth, the grave is approached by going round in the same manner. the bride is conducted to her future spouse, in the presence of the minister, and the glass goes round a company, in the course of the sun. this is called, in gaelic, going round the right, or the _lucky way_. the opposite course is the wrong, or the _unlucky_ way. and if a person's meat or drink were to affect the wind-pipe, or come against his breath, they instantly cry out _deisheal_! which is an ejaculation praying that it may go by the right way" (rev. j. robertson, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xi. note). compare j.g. campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._: "_the right-hand turn_ (_deiseal_).-- this was the most important of all the observances. the rule is '_deiseal_ (i.e. the right-hand turn) for everything,' and consists in doing all things with a motion corresponding to the course of the sun, or from left to right. this is the manner in which screw-nails are driven, and is common with many for no reason but its convenience. old men in the highlands were very particular about it. the coffin was taken _deiseal_ about the grave, when about to be lowered; boats were turned to sea according to it, and drams are given to the present day to a company. when putting a straw rope on a house or corn-stack, if the assistant went _tuaitheal_ (i.e. against the course of the sun), the old man was ready to come down and thrash him. on coming to a house the visitor should go round it _deiseal_ to secure luck in the object of his visit. after milking a cow the dairy-maid should strike it _deiseal_ with the shackle, saying 'out and home' (_mach 'us dachaigh_). this secures its safe return. the word is from _deas_, right-hand, and _iul_, direction, and of itself contains no allusion to the sun." compare m. martin, "description of the western islands of scotland," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. _sq._: "there was an ancient custom in the island of lewis, to make a fiery circle about the houses, corn, cattle, etc., belonging to each particular family: a man carried fire in his right hand, and went round, and it was called _dessil_, from the right hand, which in the ancient language is called _dess_.... there is another way of the _dessil_, or carrying fire round about women before they are churched, after child-bearing; and it is used likewise about children until they are christened; both which are performed in the morning and at night. this is only practised now by some of the ancient midwives: i enquired their reason for this custom, which i told them was altogether unlawful; this disobliged them mightily, insomuch that they would give me no satisfaction. but others, that were of a more agreeable temper, told me that fire-round was an effectual means to preserve both the mother and the infant from the power of evil spirits, who are ready at such times to do mischief, and sometimes carry away the infant; and when they get them once in their possession, return them poor meagre skeletons; and these infants are said to have voracious appetites, constantly craving for meat. in this case it was usual with those who believed that their children were thus taken away, to dig a grave in the fields upon quarter-day, and there to lay the fairy skeleton till next morning; at which time the parents went to the place, where they doubted not to find their own child instead of this skeleton. some of the poorer sort of people in these islands retain the custom of performing these rounds sun-ways about the persons of their benefactors three times, when they bless them, and wish good success to all their enterprizes. some are very careful when they set out to sea that the boat be first rowed about sun-ways; and if this be neglected, they are afraid their voyage may prove unfortunate." probably the superstition was based entirely on the supposed luckiness of the right hand, which accordingly, in making a circuit round an object, is kept towards the centre. as to a supposed worship of the sun among the scottish highlanders, compare j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_, p. : "both the sun (_a ghrian_) and moon (_a ghealach_) are feminine in gaelic, and the names are simply descriptive of their appearance. there is no trace of a sun-god or moon-goddess." as to the etymology of beltane, see above, p. note. [ ] rev. james robertson (parish minister of callander), in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), xi. _sq._ [ ] pennant's "tour in scotland," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), iii. . [ ] rev. dr. thomas bisset, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, v. . [ ] rev. allan stewart, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xv. note. [ ] rev. walter gregor, "notes on beltane cakes," _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) pp. _sq._ the beltane cakes with the nine knobs on them remind us of the cakes with twelve knobs which the athenians offered to cronus and other deities (see _the scapegoat_, p. ). the king of the bean on twelfth night was chosen by means of a cake, which was broken in as many pieces as there were persons present, and the person who received the piece containing a bean or a coin became king. see j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), p. ; john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq.; the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] shaw, in pennant's "tour in scotland," printed in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. . the part of scotland to which shaw's description applies is what he calls the province or country of murray, extending from the river spey on the east to the river beauly on the west, and south-west to loch lochy. [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . the st. michael's cake (_strùthan na h'eill micheil_), referred to in the text, is described as "the size of a quern" in circumference. "it is kneaded simply with water, and marked across like a scone, dividing it into four equal parts, and then placed in front of the fire resting on a quern. it is not polished with dry meal as is usual in making a cake, but when it is cooked a thin coating of eggs (four in number), mixed with buttermilk, is spread first on one side, then on the other, and it is put before the fire again. an earlier shape, still in use, which tradition associates with the female sex, is that of a triangle with the corners cut off. a _strùhthan_ or _strùhdhan_ (the word seems to be used for no other kind of cake) is made for each member of the household, including servants and herds. when harvest is late, an early patch of corn is mown on purpose for the _strùthan_" (a. goodrich-freer, _op. cit._ pp. . _sq._.) [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] jonathan ceredig davies, _folklore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] joseph train, _an historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), i. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. ; _id._, "the coligny calendar," _proceedings of the british academy, - _, pp. _sq._ see further _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sq._ [ ] professor frank granger, "early man," in _the victoria history of the county of nottingham_, edited by william page, i. (london, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. ; _id._, "manx folk-lore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, referring to kuno meyer, _hibernia minora_, p. and _glossary_, . [ ] j.b. bury, _the life of st. patrick_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] geoffrey keating, d.d., _the history of ireland_, translated by john o'mahony (new york, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folk-lore and superstition," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) p. ; _id., celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. . compare p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. : "the custom of driving cattle through fires against disease on the eve of the st of may, and on the eve of the th june (st. john's day), continued in ireland, as well as in the scottish highlands, to a period within living memory." in a footnote mr. joyce refers to carmichael, _carmina gadelica_, ii. , for scotland, and adds, "i saw it done in ireland." [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus böhmen_ (prague, n.d.), pp. _sq._; br. jelínek, "materialien zur vorgeschichte und volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropologischen gesellschaft in wien_, xxi. ( ) p. ; alois john, _sitte, branch, und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] j.a.e. köhler, _volksbrauch, aberglauben, sagen und andre alte ueberlieferungen im voigtlande_ (leipsic, ), p. . the superstitions relating to witches at this season are legion. for instance, in saxony and thuringia any one who labours under a physical blemish can easily rid himself of it by transferring it to the witches on walpurgis night. he has only to go out to a cross-road, make three crosses on the blemish, and say, "in the name of god the father, the son, and the holy ghost." thus the blemish, whatever it may be, is left behind him at the cross-road, and when the witches sweep by on their way to the brocken, they must take it with them, and it sticks to them henceforth. moreover, three crosses chalked up on the doors of houses and cattle-stalls on walpurgis night will effectually prevent any of the infernal crew from entering and doing harm to man or beast. see e. sommer, _sagen, märchen und gebräuche aus sachsen und thüringen_ (halle, ), pp. _sq.; die gestriegelte rockenphilosophie_ (chemnitz, ), p. . [ ] see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] as to the midsummer festival of europe in general see the evidence collected in the "specimen calendarii gentilis," appended to the _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) pp. - . [ ] john mitchell kemble, _the saxons in england_, new edition (london, ), i. _sq_., quoting "an ancient ms. written in england, and now in the harleian collection, no. , fol. ." the passage is quoted in part by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._, by r.t. hampson, _medii aevi kalendarium_ (london, ), i. , and by w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . the same explanations of the midsummer fires and of the custom of trundling a burning wheel on midsummer eve are given also by john beleth, a writer of the twelfth century. see his _rationale divinorum officiorum_ (appended to the _rationale divinorum officiorum_ of g. [w.] durandus, lyons, ), p. _recto: "solent porro hoc tempore_ [the eve of st. john the baptist] _ex veteri consuetudine mortuorum animalium ossa comburi, quod hujusmodi habet originem. sunt enim animalia, quae dracones appellamus.... haec inquam animalia in aere volant, in aquis natant, in terra ambulant. sed quando in aere ad libidinem concitantur (quod fere fit) saepe ipsum sperma vel in puteos, vel in aquas fluviales ejicunt ex quo lethalis sequitur annus. adversus haec ergo hujusmodi inventum est remedium, ut videlicet rogus ex ossibus construeretur, et ita fumus hujusmodi animalia fugaret. et quia istud maxime hoc tempore fiebat, idem etiam modo ab omnibus observatur.... consuetum item est hac vigilia ardentes deferri faculas quod johannes fuerit ardens lucerna, et qui vias domini praeparaverit. sed quod etiam rota vertatur hinc esse putant quia in eum circulum tunc sol descenderit ultra quem progredi nequit, a quo cogitur paulatim descendere_." the substance of the passage is repeated in other words by g. durandus (wilh. durantis), a writer of the thirteenth century, in his _rationale divinorum officiorum_, lib. vii. cap. (p. _verso_, ed. lyons, ). compare j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . with the notion that the air is poisoned at midsummer we may compare the popular belief that it is similarly infected at an eclipse. thus among the esquimaux on the lower yukon river in alaska "it is believed that a subtle essence or unclean influence descends to the earth during an eclipse, and if any of it is caught in utensils of any kind it will produce sickness. as a result, immediately on the commencement of an eclipse, every woman turns bottom side up all her pots, wooden buckets, and dishes" (e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. ). similar notions and practices prevail among the peasantry of southern germany. thus the swabian peasants think that during an eclipse of the sun poison falls on the earth; hence at such a time they will not sow, mow, gather fruit or eat it, they bring the cattle into the stalls, and refrain from business of every kind. if the eclipse lasts long, the people get very anxious, set a burning candle on the mantel-shelf of the stove, and pray to be delivered from the danger. see anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), i. . similarly bavarian peasants imagine that water is poisoned during a solar eclipse (f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_, ii. ); and thuringian bumpkins cover up the wells and bring the cattle home from pasture during an eclipse either of the sun or of the moon; an eclipse is particularly poisonous when it happens to fall on a wednesday. see august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. . as eclipses are commonly supposed by the ignorant to be caused by a monster attacking the sun or moon (e.b. tylor, _primitive culture_,*[ ] london, , i. _sqq._), we may surmise, on the analogy of the explanation given of the midsummer fires, that the unclean influence which is thought to descend on the earth at such times is popularly attributed to seed discharged by the monster or possibly by the sun or moon then in conjunction with each other. [ ] _the popish kingdome or reigne of antichrist, written in latin verse by thomas naogeorgus and englyshed by barnabe googe, _, edited by r.c. hope (london, ), p. _verso_. as to this work see above, p. note . [ ] j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] tessier, "sur la fête annuelle de la roue flamboyante de la saint-jean, à basse-kontz, arrondissement de thionville," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, v. ( ) pp. - . tessier witnessed the ceremony, rd june (not , as is sometimes stated). his account has been reproduced more or less fully by j. grimm (_deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sq._) w. mannhardt (_der baumkultus_, pp. _sq._), and h. gaidoz ("le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._). [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. _sq_.; compare _id_., iii. _sq_. as to the burning discs at the spring festivals, see above, pp. _sq_., , . [ ] _op. cit_. ii. _sq_., iii. , , iv. . p. . [ ] _op. cit_. ii. . [ ] _op. cit._ iv. i. p. . we have seen (p. ) that in the sixteenth century these customs and beliefs were common in germany. it is also a german superstition that a house which contains a brand from the midsummer bonfire will not be struck by lightning (j.w. wolf, _beiträge, zur deutschen mythologie_, i. p. , § ). [ ] j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), p. . [ ] karl freiherr von leoprechting, _aus dem lechrain_ (munich, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. pp. _sqq._, § , pp. _sq._, § ; _id., aus schwaben_ (wiesbaden, ), ii. - ; e. meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § ; _id._, ii. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. - . [ ] elard hugo mayer, _badisches volksleben_ (strasburg, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] w. von schulenberg, in _verhandlungen der berliner gesellschaft für anthropologie, ethnologie und urgeschichte, jahrgang _, pp. _sq._ (bound up with _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, xxix. ). [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] bruno stehle, "volksglauben, sitten und gebräuche in lothringen," _globus_, lix. ( ) pp. _sq._; "die sommerwendfeier im st. amarinthale," _der urquell_, n.f., i. ( ) pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. _sq._ according to one writer, the garlands are composed of st. john's wort (montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_, iserlohn, n.d., p. ). as to the use of st. john's wort at midsummer, see below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), pp. _sq._ [ ] c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sqq._ [ ] philo vom walde, _schlesien in sage und brauch_ (berlin, n.d.), p. ; paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch, und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie,_*[ ] i. _sq._ [ ] from information supplied by mr. sigurd k. heiberg, engineer, of bergen, norway, who in his boyhood regularly collected fuel for the fires. i have to thank miss anderson, of barskimming, mauchline, ayrshire, for kindly procuring the information for me from mr. heiberg. the blocksberg, where german as well as norwegian witches gather for their great sabbaths on the eve of may day (walpurgis night) and midsummer eve, is commonly identified with the brocken, the highest peak of the harz mountains. but in mecklenburg, pomerania, and probably elsewhere, villages have their own local blocksberg, which is generally a hill or open place in the neighbourhood; a number of places in pomerania go by the name of the blocksberg. see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] ii. _sq._; ulrich jahn, _hexenwesen und zauberei in pommern_ (breslau, ), pp. _sq._; _id._, _volkssagen aus pommern und rügen_ (stettin, ), p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] l. lloyd, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ these springs are called "sacrificial fonts" (_offer källor_) and are "so named because in heathen times the limbs of the slaughtered victim, whether man or beast, were here washed prior to immolation" (l. lloyd, _op. cit._ p. ). [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, _feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), p. . [ ] ignaz v. zingerle, _sitten, bräuche und meinungen des tiroler volkes_*[ ] (innsbruck, ), ii. p. , § . [ ] i.v. zingerle, _op. cit._ p. , §§ , , ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. p. , § . [ ] theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. ; theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), p. ; joseph virgil grohmann, _aberglauben und gebräuche aus bohmen und mähren_ (prague and leipsic, ), p. , § ; reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus bohmen_ (prague, n.d.), pp. - ; br. jelfnek, "materialien zur vorgeschichte und volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropologischen gesellschaft in wien>_ xxi. ( ) p. ; alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ) pp. - . [ ] willibald müller, _beiträge zur volkskunde der deutschen in mähren_ (vienna and olmutz, ), pp. - . [ ] anton peter, _volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. . [ ] th. vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the dying god_, p. . compare m. kowalewsky, in _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_, second edition (london, ), p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _l.c._ [ ] w.j.a. von tettau und j.d.h. temme, _die volkssagen ostpreussens, litthauens und westpreussens_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] m. töppen, _aberglauben aus masuren_*[ ] (danzig, ), p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, "altslavische feuergewinnung," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. . [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_ (dresden and leipsic, ), i. - , ii. _sq._ ligho was an old heathen deity, whose joyous festival used to fall in spring. [ ] ovid, _fasti_, vi. _sqq._ [ ] friederich s. krauss, _sitte und brauch der südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] h. von wlislocki, _volksglaube und religiöser brauch der magyar_ (münster i. w., ), pp. - . [ ] a. von ipolyi, "beiträge zur deutschen mythologie aus ungarn," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_, ii. _sq._; f.j. wiedemann, _aus dem inneren und äusseren leben der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . the word which i have translated "weeds" is in esthonian _kaste-heinad_, in german _thaugras_. apparently it is the name of a special kind of weed. [ ] fr. kreutzwald und h. neus, _mythische und magische lieder der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . [ ] j.b. holzmayer, "osiliana," _verhandlungen der gelehrten estnischen gesellschaft zu dorpat_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ wiedemann also observes that the sports in which young couples engage in the woods on this evening are not always decorous (_aus dem inneren und äusseren leben der ehsten_, p. ). [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_, ii. _sq._ [ ] j.g. georgi, _beschreibung aller nationen des russischen reichs_ (st. petersburg, ), p. ; august freiherr von haxthausen, _studien über die innere zustände das volksleben und insbesondere die ländlichen einrichtungen russlands_ (hanover, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] alfred de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] it is notable that st. john is the only saint whose birthday the church celebrates with honours like those which she accords to the nativity of christ. compare edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), p. note i. [ ] bossuet, _oeuvres_ (versailles, - ), vi. ("catéchisme du diocèse de meaux"). his description of the superstitions is, in his own words, as follows: "_danser à l'entour du feu, jouer, faire des festins, chanter des chansons deshonnètes, jeter des herbes par-dessus le feu, en cueillir avant midi ou à jeun, en porter sur soi, les conserver le long de l'année, garder des tisons ou des charbons du feu, et autres semblables._" this and other evidence of the custom of kindling midsummer bonfires in france is cited by ch. cuissard in his tract _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ). [ ] ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. le braz, _la légende de la mort en basse-bretagne_ (paris, ), p. . for an explanation of the custom of throwing a pebble into the fire, see below, p. . [ ] m. quellien, quoted by alexandre bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. p. , § ; a. breuil, "du culte de st. jean baptiste," _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. (amiens, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] eugene cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), p. ; ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), p. . [ ] paul sébillot, _coutumes populaires de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), pp. - . in upper brittany these bonfires are called _rieux_ or _raviers_. [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fétes religieuses_, p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, pp. , , ; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. - . [ ] this description is quoted by madame clément (_histoire des fêtes civites et religieuses_, etc., _de la belgique méridionale_, avesnes, , pp. - ); f. liebrecht (_des gervasius von tilbury otia imperialia_, hanover, , pp. _sq._); and w. mannhardt (_antike wald und feldkulte_, berlin, , pp. _sqq._) from the _magazin pittoresque_, paris, viii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ a slightly condensed account is given, from the same source, by e. cortet (_essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, pp. _sq._). [ ] bazin, quoted by breuil, in _mémoires de la société d' antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. note. [ ] correspondents quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), pp. , . [ ] correspondent quoted by a. bertrand, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. - . in perche the midsummer bonfires were called _marolles_. as to the custom formerly observed at bullou, near chateaudun, see a correspondent quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] albert meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes, et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] désiré monnier, _traditions populaires comparées_ (paris, ), pp. _sqq._; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, pp. _sq._ [ ] bérenger-féraud, _réminiscences populaires de la provence_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), p. . the names of the bonfires vary with the place; among them are _failles, bourdifailles, bâs_ or _baux, feulères_ or _folières_, and _chavannes_. [ ] _la bresse louhannaise_, juin, , p. . [ ] laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_ (paris, ), i. _sqq._ the writer adopts the absurd derivation of _jônée_ from janus. needless to say that our old friend baal, bel, or belus figures prominently in this and many other accounts of the european fire-festivals. [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] correspondent, quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] guerry, "sur les usages et traditions du poitou," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, viii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] breuil, in _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, p. ; laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_, i. ; j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_, ii. . [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) p. , note . [ ] l. pineau, _le folk-lore du poitou_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ in périgord the ashes of the midsummer bonfire are searched for the hair of the virgin (e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, p. ). [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] dupin, "notice sur quelques fêtes et divertissemens populaires du département des deux-sèvres," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. , _sq._ [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ p. . [ ] aubin-louis millin, _voyage dans les départemens du midi de la france_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._ [ ] aubin-louis millin, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; bérenger-féraud, _reminiscences populaires de la provence_ (paris, ), pp. - . as to the custom at toulon, see poncy, quoted by breuil, _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. note. the custom of drenching people on this occasion with water used to prevail in toulon, as well as in marseilles and other towns in the south of france. the water was squirted from syringes, poured on the heads of passers-by from windows, and so on. see breuil, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. , _sq._ [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), i. _sq._ . [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _op. cit._ i. - . [ ] madame clément, _histoire des fêtes civiles et religieuses_, etc., _du département du nord_ (cambrai, ), p. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), ii. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_. p. . [ ] e. monseur, _folklore wallon_ (brussels, n.d.), p. , §§ , , . [ ] joseph strutt, _the sports and pastimes of the people of england_, new edition, by w. hone (london, ), p. . [ ] john stow, _a survay of london_, edited by henry morley (london, n.d.), pp. _sq._ stow's _survay_ was written in . [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . both writers refer to _status scholae etonensis_ (a.d. ). [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._, , compare pp. , , _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . compare w. hutchinson, _view of northumberland_, vol. ii. (newcastle, ), appendix, p. ( ), under the head "midsummer":--"it is usual to raise fires on the tops of high hills and in the villages, and sport and danse around them; this is of very remote antiquity, and the first cause lost in the distance of time." [ ] dr. lyttelton, bishop of carlisle, quoted by william borlase, _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), p. note. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. , quoting e. mackenzie, _an historical, topographical, and descriptive view of the county of northumberland_, second edition (newcastle, ), i. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour, p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour, p. . [ ] _the denham tracts_, edited by j. hardy (london, - ), ii. _sq._, quoting _archælogia aeliana_, n.s., vii. , and the _proceedings_ of the berwickshire naturalists' club, vi. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), pp. _sq._ whalton is a village of northumberland, not far from morpeth. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. vi. _east riding of yorkshire_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), p. . [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. , compare _id._, p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] william borlase, ll.d., _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ the eve of st. peter is june th. bonfires have been lit elsewhere on the eve or the day of st. peter. see above, pp. _sq._ _sq._, and below, pp. _sq._, , . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. , ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] william bottrell, _traditions and hearthside stories of west cornwall_ (penzance, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._; james napier, _folk-lore, or superstitious beliefs in the west of scotland_ (paisley, ), p. . [ ] richard edmonds, _the land's end district_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; robert hunt, _popular romances of the west of england_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare jonathan ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] joseph train, _account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. . [ ] sir henry piers, _description of the county of westmeath_, written in , published by (general) charles vallancey, _collectanea de rebus hibernieis_, i. (dublin, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. , quoting the author of the _survey of the south of ireland_, p. . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. , quoting the author of the _comical pilgrim's pilgrimage into ireland_ ( ), p. . [ ] _the gentleman's magazine_, vol. lxv. (london, ) pp. _sq._ the writer dates the festival on june st, which is probably a mistake. [ ] t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting the _liverpool mercury_ of june th, . [ ] l.l. duncan, "further notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] a.c. haddon, "a batch of irish folk-lore," _folk-lore_, iv. ( ) pp. , . [ ] g.h. kinahan, "notes on irish folk-lore," _folk-lore record_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] charlotte elizabeth, _personal recollections_, quoted by rev. alexander hislop, _the two babylons_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] lady wilde, _ancient legends, mystic charms, and superstitions of ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._ [ ] t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting the _hibernian magazine_, july . as to the worship of wells in ancient ireland, see p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, _sqq._ [ ] rev. a. johnstone, describing the parish of monquhitter in perthshire, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), xxi. . mr. w. warde fowler writes that in scotland "before the bonfires were kindled on midsummer eve, the houses were decorated with foliage brought from the woods" (_roman festivals of the period of the republic_, london, , pp. _sq._). for his authority he refers to _chambers' journal_, july, . [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by a. allardyce (edinburgh, ), ii. . [ ] rev. mr. shaw, minister of elgin, in pennant's "tour in scotland," printed in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), iii. . [ ] a. macdonald, "midsummer bonfires," _folk-lore_, xv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] from notes kindly furnished to me by the rev. j.c. higgins, parish minister of tarbolton. mr. higgins adds that he knows of no superstition connected with the fire, and no tradition of its origin. i visited the scene of the bonfire in , but, as pausanias says (viii. . ) in similar circumstances, "i did not happen to arrive at the season of the festival." indeed the snow was falling thick as i trudged to the village through the beautiful woods of "the castle o' montgomery" immortalized by burns. from a notice in _the scotsman_ of th june, (p. ) it appears that the old custom was observed as usual that year. [ ] thomas moresinus, _papatus seu depravatae religionis origo et incrementum_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] rev. dr. george lawrie, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, iii. (edinburgh, ) p. . [ ] letter from dr. otero acevado of madrid, published in _le temps_, september . an extract from the newspaper was sent me, but without mention of the day of the month when it appeared. the fires on st. john's eve in spain are mentioned also by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_, i. . jacob grimm inferred the custom from a passage in a romance (_deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ). the custom of washing or bathing on the morning of st. john's day is mentioned by the spanish historian diego duran, _historia de las indias de nueva españa_, edited by j.f. ramirez (mexico, - ), vol. ii. p. . to roll in the dew on the morning of st. john's day is a cure for diseases of the skin in normandy, périgord, and the abruzzi, as well as in spain. see j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_, ii. ; a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, p. ; gennaro finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), p. . [ ] m. longworth dames and mrs. e. seemann, "folklore of the azores," _folk-lore_, xiv. ( ) pp. _sq._; theophilo braga, _o povo portuguez nos seus costumes, crenças e tradiçoes_ (lisbon, ), ii. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] see below, pp. _sqq._ [ ] angelo de gubernatis, _mythologie des plantes_ (paris, - ), i. note . [ ] _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_, pp. - . we may compare the provençal and spanish customs of bathing and splashing water at midsummer. see above, pp. _sq._, . [ ] giuseppe pitrè, _spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane_ (palermo, ), pp. , _sq._; _id., usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] v. busuttil, _holiday customs in malta, and sports, usages, ceremonies, omens, and superstitions of the maltese people_ (malta, ), pp. _sqq._ the extract was kindly sent to me by mr. h.w. underwood (letter dated th november, , birbeck bank chambers, southampton buildings, chancery lane, w.c.). see _folk-lore_, xiv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] w. r. paton, in _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) p. . the custom was reported to me when i was in greece in (_folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. ). [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] g. georgeakis et l. pineau, _le folk-lore de lesbos_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] w.r. paton, in _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) p. . from the stones cast into the fire omens may perhaps be drawn, as in scotland, wales, and probably brittany. see above, p. , and below, pp. _sq._, , . [ ] w.h.d. rouse, "folklore from the southern sporades," _folk-lore_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] lucy m.j. garnett, _the women of turkey and their folk-lore, the christian women_ (london, ), p. ; g.f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] j.g. von hahn, _albanesische studien_ (jena, ), i. . [ ] k. von den steinen, _unter den natur-völkern zentral-brasiliens_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] alcide d'orbigny, _voyage dans l'amérique méridionale_, ii. (paris and strasbourg, - ), p. ; d. forbes, "on the aymara indians of bolivia and peru," _journal of the ethnological society of london_, ii. ( ) p. . [ ] edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq_. for an older but briefer notice of the midsummer fires in north africa, see giuseppe ferraro, _superstizioni, usi e proverbi monferrini_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._: "also in algeria, among the mussalmans, and in morocco, as alvise da cadamosto reports in his _relazione dei viaggi d'africa_, which may be read in ramusio, people used to hold great festivities on st. john's night; they kindled everywhere huge fires of straw (the _palilia_ of the romans), in which they threw incense and perfumes the whole night long in order to invoke the divine blessing on the fruit-trees." see also budgett meakin, _the moors_ (london, ), p. : "the berber festivals are mainly those of islam, though a few traces of their predecessors are observable. of these the most noteworthy is midsummer or st. john's day, still celebrated in a special manner, and styled _el ansarah_. in the rîf it is celebrated by the lighting of bonfires only, but in other parts there is a special dish prepared of wheat, raisins, etc., resembling the frumenty consumed at the new year. it is worthy of remark that the old style gregorian calendar is maintained among them, with corruptions of latin names." [ ] edward westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folklore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather_ (helsingfors, ), pp. - . [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., pp. _sq._ [ ] edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., pp. - . [ ] see k. vollers, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_ iii. (edinburgh, ) _s.v._ "calendar (muslim)," pp. _sq._ however, l. ideler held that even before the time of mohammed the arab year was lunar and vague, and that intercalation was only employed in order to fix the pilgrimage month in autumn, which, on account of the milder weather and the abundance of food, is the best time for pilgrims to go to mecca. see l. ideler, _handbuch der mathematischen und techischen chronologie_ (berlin, - ), ii. _sqq._ [ ] e. doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_, pp. , , , , . it is somewhat remarkable that the tenth, not the first, day of the first month should be reckoned new year's day. [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] e. doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) p. ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), p. . [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ), pp. _sq._, _sq.; id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., _in morocco_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] g. f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] "narrative of the adventures of four russian sailors, who were cast in a storm upon the uncultivated island of east spitzbergen," translated from the german of p.l. le roy, in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), i. . this passage is quoted from the original by (sir) edward b. tylor, _researches into the early history of mankind_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq._ [ ] e.k. chambers, _the mediaeval stage_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] in eastern europe to this day the great season for driving out the cattle to pasture for the first time in spring is st. george's day, the twenty-third of april, which is not far removed from may day. see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ as to the bisection of the celtic year, see the old authority quoted by p.w. joyce, _the social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), ii. : "the whole year was [originally] divided into two parts--summer from st may to st november, and winter from st november to st may." on this subject compare (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. , _sqq.; id., celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._; j.a. macculloch, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_, iii. (edinburgh, ) p. . [ ] see below, p. . [ ] above, pp. _sqq._; _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, manx and welsh_ (oxford, ), i. , _sq._; j.a. macculloch, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_, iii. (edinburgh, ) _s.v._ "calendar," p. , referring to kelly, _english and manx dictionary_ (douglas, ), _s.v._ "blein." hogmanay is the popular scotch name for the last day of the year. see dr. j. jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, new edition (paisley, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_, i. _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] see _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. - . as i have there pointed out, the catholic church succeeded in altering the date of the festival by one day, but not in changing the character of the festival. all souls' day is now the second instead of the first of november. but we can hardly doubt that the saints, who have taken possession of the first of november, wrested it from the souls of the dead, the original proprietors. after all, the saints are only one particular class of the souls of the dead; so that the change which the church effected, no doubt for the purpose of disguising the heathen character of the festival, is less great than appears at first sight. [ ] in wales "it was firmly believed in former times that on all hallows' eve the spirit of a departed person was to be seen at midnight on every cross-road and on every stile" (marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_, london, , p. ). [ ] e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] (sir) jolin rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, ii. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_, p. . [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] ch. rogers, _social life in scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), iii. - . [ ] douglas hyde, _beside the fire, a collection of irish gaelic folk stories_ (london, ), pp. , , - . [ ] p.w. joyce, _social history of ancient ireland_, i. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_, pp. _sq._ in order to see the apparitions all you had to do was to run thrice round the parish church and then peep through the key-hole of the door. see marie trevelyan, _op. cit._ p. ; j. c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] miss e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. . [ ] thomas pennant, "tour in scotland, and voyage to the hebrides in ," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. (london, ) pp. _sq._ in quoting the passage i have corrected what seem to be two misprints. [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. _sq._ this account was written in the eighteenth century. [ ] rev. james robertson, parish minister of callander, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xi. (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. dr. thomas bisset, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ v. (edinburgh, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] miss e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] james napier, _folk lore, or superstitious beliefs in the west of scotland within this century_ (paisley, ), p. . [ ] j. g. frazer, "folk-lore at balquhidder," _the folk-lore journal_, vi. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. a. johnstone, as to the parish of monquhitter, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xxi. (edinburgh, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] a. macdonald, "some former customs of the royal parish of crathie, scotland," _folk-lore_, xviii. ( ) p. . the writer adds: "in this way the 'faulds' were purged of evil spirits." but it does not appear whether this expresses the belief of the people or only the interpretation of the writer. [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] robert burns, _hallowe'en_, with the poet's note; rev. walter gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. walter gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._.; rev. w. gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. ; a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . according to the last of these writers, the winnowing had to be done in the devil's name. [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. ; a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folklore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; a. goodrich-freer, _l.c._ [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . where nuts were not to be had, peas were substituted. [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _l.c._ according to my recollection of hallowe'en customs observed in my boyhood at helensburgh, in dumbartonshire, another way was to stir the floating apples and then drop a fork on them as they bobbed about in the water. success consisted in pinning one of the apples with the fork. [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit_. p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit_. p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit_. p. . it is the last of these writers who gives what may be called the trinitarian form of the divination. [ ] miss e.j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] pennant's manuscript, quoted by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq_. [ ] sir richard colt hoare, _the itinerary of archbishop baldwin through wales a.d. mclxxxviii. by giraldus de barri_ (london, ), ii. ; j. brand, _popular antiquities_, i. . the passage quoted in the text occurs in one of hoare's notes on the itinerary. the dipping for apples, burning of nuts, and so forth, are mentioned also by marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._ as to the hallowe'en bonfires in wales compare j.c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] (general) charles vallancey, _collectanea de rebus hibernicis_, iii. (dublin, ), pp. - . [ ] miss a. watson, quoted by a.c. haddon, "a batch of irish folk-lore," _folk-lore_, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] leland l. duncan, "further notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, v. ( ) pp. - . [ ] h.j. byrne, "all hallows eve and other festivals in connaught," _folk-lore_, xviii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] joseph train, _historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. ; (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. - . [ ] john harland and t.t. wilkinson, _lancashire folk-lore_ (manchester and london, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] j. harland and t.t. wilkinson, _op. cit_. p. . [ ] annie milner, in william hone's _year book_ (london, preface dated january, ), coll. - (letter dated june, ); r.t. hampson, _medii aevi kalendarium_ (london, ), i. ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_ vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . compare w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england_ (london, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] baron dupin, in _mémoires publiées par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] the evidence for the solar origin of christmas is given in _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. - . [ ] for the various names (yu-batch, yu-block, yule-log, etc.) see francis grose, _provincial glossary_, new edition (london, ), p. ; joseph wright, _the english dialect dictionary_ (london, - ), vi. , _s.v._ "yule." [ ] "i am pretty confident that the yule block will be found, in its first use, to have been only a counterpart of the midsummer fires, made within doors because of the cold weather at this winter solstice, as those in the hot season, at the summer one, are kindled in the open air." (john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_, london, - , i. ). his opinion is approved by w. mannhardt _(der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_, p. ). [ ] "_et arborem in nativitate domini ad festivum ignem suum adducendam esse dicebat_" (quoted by jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_, i. ). [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbrauche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. . the sieg and lahn are two rivers of central germany, between siegen and marburg. [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _sagen, gebräuche und märchen aus westfalen_ (leipsic, ), ii. § , pp. _sq_. [ ] a. kuhn, _op. cit._ ii. § , p. . [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. . [ ] k. hoffmann-krayer, _feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), ii. _sq._ compare j.w. wolf, _beiträgezur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. . [ ] j.b. thiers, _traité des superstitions_*[ ] (paris, ), i. _sq._; eugène cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _ sq._ [ ] j.b. thiers, _traité des superstitions_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] aubin-louis millin, _voyage dans les départemens du midi de la france_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._ the fire so kindled was called _caco fuech_. [ ] alfred de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ the three festivals during which the yule log is expected to burn are probably christmas day (december th), st. stephen's day (december th), and st. john the evangelist's day (december th). compare j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. - . according to the latter writer, in saintonge it was the mistress of the house who blessed the yule log, sprinkling salt and holy water on it; in poitou it was the eldest male who officiated. the log was called the _cosse de nô_. [ ] laisnel de salle, _croyances et légendes du centres de la france_ (paris, ), i. - . [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. . the author speaks of the custom as still practised in out-of-the-way villages at the time when he wrote. the usage of preserving the remains of the yule-log (called _tréfouet_) in normandy is mentioned also by m'elle amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] paul sébillot, _coutumes populaires de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] albert meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see above, p. . [ ] lerouze, in _mémoires de l'academie celtique_, iii. ( ) p. , quoted by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. note. [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. ; _the denham tracts_, edited by dr. james hardy (london, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] herrick, _hesperides_, "ceremonies for christmasse": "_come, bring with a noise, my merrie merrie boyes, the christmas log to the firing_;... _with the last yeeres brand light the neiv block_" and, again, in his verses, "ceremonies for candlemasse day": "_kindle the christmas brand, and then till sunne-set let it burne; which quencht, then lay it up agen, till christmas next returne. part must be kept, wherewith to teend the christmas log next yeare; and where 'tis safely kept, the fiend can do no mischiefe there_" see _the works of robert herrick_ (edinburgh, ), vol. ii. pp. , . from these latter verses it seems that the yule log was replaced on the fire on candlemas (the second of february). [ ] miss c. s. burne and miss g. f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_ (london, ), p. note . see also below, pp. , , as to the lincolnshire, herefordshire, and welsh practice. [ ] francis grose, _provincial glossary_, second edition (london, ), pp. _sq._; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour and edited by northcote w. thomas (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore,_ vol. ii. _north riding of yorkshire, york and the ainsty,_ collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), pp. , , _sq_. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. vi. _east riding of yorkshire_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), pp. , , compare p. . [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. . elsewhere in lincolnshire the yule-log seems to have been called the yule-clog (_op. cit_. pp. , ). [ ] mrs. samuel chandler (sarah whateley), quoted in _the folk-lore journal_, i. ( ) pp. _sq_. [ ] miss c.s. burne and miss g.f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sq_. one of the informants of these writers says (_op. cit._ p. ): "in i was at the vessons farmhouse, near the eastbridge coppice (at the northern end of the stiperstones). the floor was of flags, an unusual thing in this part. observing a sort of roadway through the kitchen, and the flags much broken, i enquired what caused it, and was told it was from the horses' hoofs drawing in the 'christmas brund.'" [ ] mrs. ella mary leather, _the folklore of herefordshire_ (hereford and london, ), p. . compare miss c.s. burne, "herefordshire notes," _the folk-lore journal_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] "in earlier ages, and even so late as towards the middle of the nineteenth century, the servian village organisation and the servian agriculture had yet another distinguishing feature. the dangers from wild beasts in old time, the want of security for life and property during the turkish rule, or rather misrule, the natural difficulties of the agriculture, more especially the lack in agricultural labourers, induced the servian peasants not to leave the parental house but to remain together on the family's property. in the same yard, within the same fence, one could see around the ancestral house a number of wooden huts which contained one or two rooms, and were used as sleeping places for the sons, nephews and grandsons and their wives. men and women of three generations could be often seen living in that way together, and working together the land which was considered as common property of the whole family. this expanded family, remaining with all its branches together, and, so to say, under the same roof, working together, dividing the fruits of their joint labours together, this family and an agricultural association in one, was called _zadrooga_ (the association). this combination of family and agricultural association has morally, economically, socially, and politically rendered very important services to the servians. the headman or chief (called _stareshina_) of such family association is generally the oldest male member of the family. he is the administrator of the common property and director of work. he is the executive chairman of the association. generally he does not give any order without having consulted all the grown-up male members of the _zadroega_" (chedo mijatovich, _servia and the servians_, london, , pp. _sq._). as to the house-communities of the south slavs see further og. m. utiesenovic, _die hauskommunionen der südslaven_ (vienna, ); f. demelic, _le droit coutumier des slaves méridionaux_ (paris, ), pp. _sqq._; f.s. krauss, _sitte und brauch der südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. _sqq._ since servia, freed from turkish oppression, has become a well-regulated european state, with laws borrowed from the codes of france and germany, the old house-communities have been rapidly disappearing (chedo mijatovich, _op. cit._ p. ). [ ] chedo mijatovich, _servia and the servians_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] baron rajacsich, _das leben, die sitten und gebräuche der im kaiserthume oesterreich lebenden südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. - . [ ] baron rajacsich, _das leben, die sitten und gebrauche der im kaiserthume oesterreich lebenden südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. - . the yule log (_badnyak_) is also known in bulgaria, where the women place it on the hearth on christmas eve. see a. strausz, _die bulgaren_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] m. edith durham, _high albania_ (london, ), p. . [ ] r.f. kaindl, _die huzulen_ (vienna, ) p. . [ ] see above, pp. , , , , , , , , , . similarly at candlemas people lighted candles in the churches, then took them home and kept them, and thought that by lighting them at any time they could keep off thunder, storm, and tempest. see barnabe googe, _the popish kingdom_ (reprinted london, ), p. _verso_. [ ] see above, pp. , , , , , . [ ] see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] see above, pp. , , , , . [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] joseph train, _historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. , referring to cregeen's _manx dictionary_, p. . [ ] r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), ii. - , quoting _the banffshire journal_; miss c.f. gordon cumming, _in the hebrides_ (london, ), p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), pp. - ; ch. rogers, _social life in scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), iii. _sq_.; _the folk-lore journal_, vii. ( ) pp. - , . miss gordon gumming and miss guthrie say that the burning of the clavie took place upon yule night; but this seems to be a mistake. [ ] caesar, _de bello gallico_, vii. . [ ] hugh w. young, f.s.a. scot., _notes on the ramparts of burghead as revealed by recent excavations_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq_.; _notes on further excavations at burghead_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq_. these papers are reprinted from the _proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland_, vols. xxv., xxvii. mr. young concludes as follows: "it is proved that the fort at burghead was raised by a people skilled in engineering, who used axes and chisels of iron; who shot balista stones over lbs. in weight; and whose daily food was the _bos longifrons_. a people who made paved roads, and sunk artesian wells, and used roman beads and pins. the riddle of burghead should not now be very difficult to read." (_notes on further excavations at burghead_, pp. _sq_.). for a loan of mr. young's pamphlets i am indebted to the kindness of sheriff-substitute david. [ ] robert cowie, m.a., m.d., _shetland, descriptive and historical_ (aberdeen, ), pp. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. iii. _orkney and shetland islands_, collected by g.f. black and edited by northcote w. thomas (london, ), pp. _sq._ a similar celebration, known as up-helly-a, takes place at lerwick on the th of january, twenty-four days after old christmas. see _the scapegoat_, pp. - . perhaps the popular festival of up-helly-a has absorbed some of the features of the christmas eve celebration. [ ] thomas hyde, _historia religionis veterum persarum_ (oxford, ), pp. - . [ ] on the need-fire see jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. _sqq._; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen and leipsic, - ), i. _sq._, ii. _sqq._; adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunjt des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sqq._; walter k. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sqq._; charles elton, _origins of english history_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; ulrich jahn, _die deutschen opfergebräuche bei ackerbau und viehzucht_ (breslau, ), pp. _sqq._ grimm would derive the name _need-_fire (german, _niedfyr, nodfyr, nodfeur, nothfeur_) from _need_ (german, _noth_), "necessity," so that the phrase need-fire would mean "a forced fire." this is the sense attached to it in lindenbrog's glossary on the capitularies, quoted by grimm, _op. cit._ i. p. : "_eum ergo ignem_ nodfeur _et_ nodfyr, _quasi necessarium ignem vocant_" c.l. rochholz would connect _need_ with a verb _nieten_ "to churn," so that need-fire would mean "churned fire." see c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sq._ this interpretion is confirmed by the name _ankenmilch bohren_, which is given to the need-fire in some parts of switzerland. see e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv für volkskünde_, xi. ( ) p. . [ ] "_illos sacrilegos ignes, quos_ niedfyr _vocant_," quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] _indiculus superstitionum et paganiarum_, no. xv., "_de igne fricato de ligno i.e._ nodfyr." a convenient edition of the _indiculus_ has been published with a commentary by h.a. saupe (leipsic, ). as to the date of the work, see the editor's introduction, pp. _sq_. [ ] karl lynker, _deutsche sagen und sitten in hessischen gauen_,*[ ] (cassel and göttingen, ), pp. _sq._, quoting a letter of the mayor (_schultheiss_) of neustadt to the mayor of marburg dated th december . [ ] bartholomäus carrichter, _der teutschen speisskammer_ (strasburg, ), fol. pag. and , quoted by c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] joh. reiskius, _untersuchung des notfeuers_ (frankfort and leipsic, ), p. , quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sq._; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_, *[ ] i. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _op. cit._ i. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] karl bartsch, _sagen, märchen und gebräuche aus mecklenburg_ (vienna, - ), ii. - . [ ] carl und theodor colshorn, _märchen und sagen_ (hanover, ), pp. - , from the description of an eye-witness. [ ] heinrich pröhle, _harzbilder, sitten und gebräuche aus dem harz-gebirge_ (leipsic, ), pp. _sq._ the date of this need-fire is not given; probably it was about the middle of the nineteenth century. [ ] r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] r. andree, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volks-feste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. . [ ] paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), ii. . [ ] anton peter, _volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. . [ ] alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. . [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv fur volkskunde_, xi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] "old-time survivals in remote norwegian dales," _folk-lore_, xx. ( ) pp. , _sq._ this record of norwegian folk-lore is translated from a little work _sundalen og Öksendalens beskrivelse_ written by pastor chr. glükstad and published at christiania "about twenty years ago." [ ] prof. vi. titelbach, "das heilige feuer bei den balkanslaven," _inter-nationales archiv für ethnographie_, xiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ we have seen (above, p. ) that in russia the need-fire is, or used to be, annually kindled on the eighteenth of august. as to the need-fire in bulgaria see also below, pp. _sq._ [ ] f.s. krauss, "altslavische feuergewinnung," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. , quoting p. ljiebenov, _baba ega_ (trnovo, ), p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, _op. cit._ p. , quoting _wisla_, vol. iv. pp. , _sqq._ [ ] f.s. krauss, _op. cit._ p. , quoting oskar kolberg, in _mazowsze_, vol. iv. p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, "slavische feuerbohrer," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. . the evidence quoted by dr. krauss is that of his father, who often told of his experience to his son. [ ] prof. vl. titelbach, "das heilige feuer bei den balkanslaven," _internationales archiv fur ethnographie_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] see below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] adolf strausz, _die bulgaren_ (leipsic, ), pp. - . [ ] _wissenschaftliche mittheilungen aus bosnien und der hercegovina_, redigirt von moriz hoernes, iii. (vienna, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] "_pro fidei divinae integritate servanda recolat lector quod, cum hoc anno in laodonia pestis grassaretur in pecudes armenti, quam vocant usitate lungessouth, quidam bestiales, habitu claustrales non animo, docebant idiotas patriae ignem confrictione de lignis educere et simulachrum priapi statuere, et per haec bestiis succurrere_" quoted by j.m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. _sq._; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. ; ulrich jahn, _die deutschen opfergebräuche bei ackerbau und viehzucht_ (breslau, ) p. . [ ] w.g.m. jones barker, _the three days of wensleydale_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. ii., _north riding of yorkshire, york and the ainsty_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), p. . [ ] _the denham tracts, a collection of folklore by michael aislabie denham_, edited by dr. james hardy (london, - ), ii. . [ ] harry speight, _tramps and drives in the craven highlands_ (london, ), p. . compare, _id., the craven and north-west yorkshire highlands_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j.m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. note. [ ] e. mackenzie, _an historical, topographical and descriptive view of the county of northumberland_, second edition (newcastle, ), i. , quoted in _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . compare j.t. brockett, _glossary of north country words_, p. , quoted by mrs. m.c. balfour, _l.c.: "need-fire_ ... an ignition produced by the friction of two pieces of dried wood. the vulgar opinion is, that an angel strikes a tree, and that the fire is thereby obtained. need-fire, i am told, is still employed in the case of cattle infected with the murrain. they were formerly driven through the smoke of a fire made of straw, etc." the first edition of brockett's _glossary_ was published in . [ ] w. henderson, _notes on the folklore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare _county folklore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . stamfordham is in northumberland. the vicar's testimony seems to have referred to the first half of the nineteenth century. [ ] m. martin, "description of the western islands of scotland," in j. pinkerton's _general collection of voyages and travels_, iii. (london, ), p. . the second edition of martin's book, which pinkerton reprints, was published at london in . for john ramsay's account of the need-fire, see above, pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. , referring to miss austin as his authority. [ ] as to the custom of sacrificing one of a plague-stricken herd or flock for the purpose of saving the rest, see below, pp. _sqq._ [ ] john jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, new edition, revised by j. longmuir and d. donaldson, iii. (paisley, ) pp. _sq._, referring to "agr. surv. caithn., pp. , ." [ ] r.c. maclagan, "sacred fire," _folk-lore_, ix. ( ) pp. _sq._ as to the fire-drill see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. - ; walter k. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] alexander carmichael, _carmina gadelica_ (edinburgh, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] see above, pp. , , , _sq._ [ ] _census of india, _, vol. xiv. _punjab_, part i. _report_, by pandit harikishan kaul (lahore, ), p. . so in the north-east of scotland "those who were born with their feet first possessed great power to heal all kinds of sprains, lumbago, and rheumatism, either by rubbing the affected part, or by trampling on it. the chief virtue lay in the feet. those who came into the world in this fashion often exercised their power to their own profit." see rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . the fumigation of the byres with juniper is a charm against witchcraft. see j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. ii. the "quarter-ill" is a disease of cattle, which affects the animals only in one limb or quarter. "a very gross superstition is observed by some people in angus, as an antidote against this ill. a piece is cut out of the thigh of one of the cattle that has died of it. this they hang up within the chimney, in order to preserve the rest of the cattle from being infected. it is believed that as long as it hangs there, it will prevent the disease from approaching the place. it is therefore carefully preserved; and in case of the family removing, transported to the new farm, as one of their valuable effects. it is handed down from one generation to another" (j. jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, revised by j. longmuir and d. donaldson, iii. , _s.v._ "quarter-ill"). see further rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._: "the forelegs of one of the animals that had died were cut off a little above the knee, and hung over the fire-place in the kitchen. it was thought sufficient by some if they were placed over the door of the byre, in the 'crap o' the wa'.' sometimes the heart and part of the liver and lungs were cut out, and hung over the fireplace instead of the fore-feet. boiling them was at times substituted for hanging them over the hearth." compare w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), p. : "a curious aid to the rearing of cattle came lately to the knowledge of mr. george walker, a gentleman of the city of durham. during an excursion of a few miles into the country, he observed a sort of rigging attached to the chimney of a farmhouse well known to him, and asked what it meant. the good wife told him that they had experienced great difficulty that year in rearing their calves; the poor little creatures all died off, so they had taken the leg and thigh of one of the dead calves, and hung it in a chimney by a rope, since which they had not lost another calf." in the light of facts cited below (pp. _sqq._) we may conjecture that the intention of cutting off the legs or cutting out the heart, liver, and lungs of the animals and hanging them up or boiling them, is by means of homoeopathic magic to inflict corresponding injuries on the witch who cast the fatal spell on the cattle. [ ] _the mirror_, th june, , quoted by j. m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. note . [ ] leland l. duncan, "fairy beliefs and other folklore notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) edward b. tylor, _researches into the early history of mankind_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sqq._; _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] for some examples of such extinctions, see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._, _sq._; _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. , ii. _sq._; and above, pp. _sq._, - . the reasons for extinguishing fires ceremonially appear to vary with the occasion. sometimes the motive seems to be a fear of burning or at least singeing a ghost, who is hovering invisible in the air; sometimes it is apparently an idea that a fire is old and tired with burning so long, and that it must be relieved of the fatiguing duty by a young and vigorous flame. [ ] above, pp. , . the same custom appears to have been observed in ireland. see above, p. . [ ] j.n.b. hewitt, "new fire among the iroquois," _the american anthropologist_, ii. ( ) p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] william hone, _every-day book_ (london, preface dated ), i. coll. _sq._ (june th), quoting hitchin's _history of cornwall_. [ ] hunt, _romances and drolls of the west of england_, st series, p. , quoted by w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), p. . compare j.g. dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. : "here also maybe found a solution of that recent expedient so ignorantly practised in the neighbouring kingdom, where one having lost many of his herd by witchcraft, as he concluded, burnt a living calf to break the spell and preserve the remainder." [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. henderson, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] r. n. worth, _history of devonshire_, second edition (london, ), p. . the diabolical nature of the toad probably explains why people in herefordshire think that if you wear a toad's heart concealed about your person you can steal to your heart's content without being found out. a suspected thief was overheard boasting, "they never catches _me_: and they never ooll neither. i allus wears a toad's heart round my neck, _i_ does." see mrs. ella m. leather, in _folk-lore_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] robert hunt, _popular romances of the west of england_, third edition (london, ), p. . the writer does not say where this took place; probably it was in cornwall or devonshire. [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore, printed extracts, no. , suffolk_, collected and edited by the lady eveline camilla gurdon (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting _some materials for the history of wherstead_ by f. barham zincke (ipswich, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore, printed extracts, no. , suffolk_, p. , referring to murray's _handbook for essex, suffolk_, etc., p. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folklore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. - ; repeated in his _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sq._ sir john rhys does not doubt that the old woman saw, as she said, a live sheep being burnt on old may-day; but he doubts whether it was done as a sacrifice. he adds: "i have failed to find anybody else in andreas or bride, or indeed in the whole island, who will now confess to having ever heard of the sheep sacrifice on old may-day." however, the evidence i have adduced of a custom of burnt sacrifice among english rustics tends to confirm the old woman's statement, that the burning of the live sheep which she witnessed was not an act of wanton cruelty but a sacrifice per formed for the public good. [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folklore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq.; id., celtic folklore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sq._ we have seen that by burning the blood of a bewitched bullock a farmer expected to compel the witch to appear. see above, p. . [ ] olaus magnus, _historia de gentium septentrionalium conditionibus_, lib xviii. cap. , p. (ed. bâle, ). [ ] collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._, referring to boguet. [ ] collin de plancy, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ the same story is told in upper brittany. see paul sébillot, _traditions et superstitions de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), i. . it is a common belief that a man who has once been transformed into a werewolf must remain a were-wolf for seven years unless blood is drawn from him in his animal shape, upon which he at once recovers his human form and is delivered from the bondage and misery of being a were-wolf. see f. chapiseau, _op. cit._ i. - ; amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), p. . on the belief in were-wolves in general; see w. hertz, _der werwolf_ (stuttgart, ); j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. _sqq._; (sir) edward b. tylor, _primitive culture_[ ] (london, ), i. _sqq._; r. andree, _ethnographische parallelen und vergleiche_ (stuttgart, ), pp. - . in north germany it is believed that a man can turn himself into a wolf by girding himself with a strap made out of a wolf's hide. some say that the strap must have nine, others say twelve, holes and a buckle; and that according to the number of the hole through which the man inserts the tongue of the buckle will be the length of time of his transformation. for example, if he puts the tongue of the buckle through the first hole, he will be a wolf for one hour; if he puts it through the second, he will be a wolf for two days; and so on, up to the last hole, which entails a transformation for a full year. but by putting off the girdle the man can resume his human form. the time when were-wolves are most about is the period of the twelve nights between christmas and epiphany; hence cautious german farmers will not remove the dung from the cattle stalls at that season for fear of attracting the were-wolves to the cattle. see adalbert kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), p. ; ulrich jahn, _volkssagen aus pommern und rügen_ (stettin, ), pp. , , nos. , . down to the time of elizabeth it was reported that in the county of tipperary certain men were annually turned into wolves. see w. camden, _britain_, translated into english by philemon holland (london, ), "ireland," p. . [ ] j.j.m. de groot, _the religious system of china_, v. (leyden, ) p. . [ ] a. c. kruijt, "de weerwolf bij de toradja's van midden-celebes," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- landen volkenkunde,_ xli. ( ) pp. - , - . [ ] a.c. kruijt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a.c. kruijt, _op. cit._ pp. . for more evidence of the belief in were-wolves, or rather in were-animals of various sorts, particularly were-tigers, in the east indies, see j.j. m. de groot, "de weertijger in onze koloniën en op het oostaziatische vasteland," _bijdragen tot de taal- land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_, xlix. ( ) pp. - ; g.p. rouffaer, "matjan gadoengan," _bijdragen tot de taal- land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_ . ( ) pp. - ; j. knebel, "de weertijger op midden-java, den javaan naverteld," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- land- en volkenkunde_, xli. ( ) pp. - ; l.m.f. plate, "bijdrage tot de kennis van de lykanthropie bij de sasaksche bevolking in oost-lombok," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- land- en volkenkunde_, liv. ( ) pp. - ; g.a. wilken, "het animisme bij de volken van den indischen archipel," _verspreide geschriften_ (the hague, ), iii. - . [ ] ernst marno, _reisen im gebiete des blauen und weissen nil_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] petronius, _sat._ _sq._ (pp. _sq._, ed. fr. buecheler,*[ ] berlin, ). the latin word for a were-wolf (_versipellis_) is expressive: it means literally "skin-shifter," and is equally appropriate whatever the particular animal may be into which the wizard transforms himself. it is to be regretted that we have no such general term in english. the bright moonlight which figures in some of these were-wolf stories is perhaps not a mere embellishment of the tale but has its own significance; for in some places it is believed that the transformation of were-wolves into their bestial shape takes place particularly at full moon. see a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. , ; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. : "in carrying out their unhallowed cantrips, witches assumed various shapes. they became gulls, cormorants, ravens, rats, mice, black sheep, swelling waves, whales, and very frequently cats and hares." to this list of animals into which witches can turn themselves may be added horses, dogs, wolves, foxes, pigs, owls, magpies, wild geese, ducks, serpents, toads, lizards, flies, wasps, and butterflies. see a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § ; l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. § ; ulrich jahn, _hexenwesen und zauberei in pommern_ (breslau, ), p. . in his _topography of ireland_ (chap. ), a work completed in a.d., giraldus cambrensis records that "it has also been a frequent complaint, from old times as well as in the present, that certain hags in wales, as well as in ireland and scotland, changed themselves into the shape of hares, that, sucking teats under this counterfeit form, they might stealthily rob other people's milk." see _the historical works of giraldus cambrensis_, revised and edited by thomas wright (london, ), p. . [ ] _the folk-lore journal_, iv. ( ) p. ; collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. ; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), p. . in scotland the cut was known as "scoring above the breath." it consisted of two incisions made crosswise on the witch's forehead, and was "confided in all throughout scotland as the most powerful counter-charm." see sir walter scott, _letters on demonology and witchcraft_ (london, ), p. ; j.g. dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._; m.m. banks, "scoring a witch above the breath," _folk-lore_, xxiii. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l.m. noguès, _l.c._; l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] m. abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_ (leipsic, ), p. . the wolf-skin is supposed to fall down from heaven and to return to heaven after seven years, if the were-wolf has not been delivered from her unhappy state in the meantime by the burning of the skin. [ ] j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. ; compare a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § . some think that the sixpence should be crooked. see rev. w. gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, ; _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] (sir) edward b. tylor, _primitive culture_*[ ] (london, ), i. . [ ] joseph glanvil, _saducismus triumphatus or full and plain evidence concerning witches and apparitions_ (london, ), part ii. p. . [ ] rev. j.c. atkinson, _forty years in a moorland parish_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), pp. , . [ ] leland l. duncan, "folk-lore gleanings from county leitrim," _folklore_, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] l.f. sauvé, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] e. meier, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._, no. . a similar story of the shoeing of a woman in the shape of a horse is reported from silesia. see r. kühnau, _schlesische sagen_ (berlin, - ), iii. pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] r. kühnau, _schlesische sagen_ (berlin, - ), iii. pp. _sq._, no. . compare _id._, iii. pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] see for example l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. pp. , , , ; w. von schulenburg, _wendische volkssagen und gebräuche aus dem spreewald_ (leipsic, ), pp. , _sq._; h. pröhle, _harzsagen_ (leipsic, ), i. _sq._ the belief in such things is said to be universal among the ignorant and superstitious in germany. see a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § . in wales, also, "the possibility of injuring or marking the witch in her assumed shape so deeply that the bruise remained a mark on her in her natural form was a common belief" (j. ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_, aberystwyth, , p. ). for welsh stories of this sort, see j. ceredig davies, _l.c._; rev. elias owen, _welsh folk-lore_ (oswestry and wrexham, n.d., preface dated ), pp. _sq._; m. trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . [ ] l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ i. p. , § e. [ ] "the 'witch-burning' at clonmell," _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) pp. - . the account there printed is based on the reports of the judicial proceedings before the magistrates and the judge, which were published in _the irish times_ for march th, th, and th, april nd, rd, th, and th, and july th, . [ ] john graham dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. . in this passage "quick" is used in the old sense of "living," as in the phrase "the quick and the dead." _nois_ is "nose," _hoill_ is "hole," _quhilk (whilk)_ is "which," and _be_ is "by." [ ] j.g. dalyell, _op. cit._ p. . _bestiall_=animals; _seik_=sick; _calling_=driving; _guidis_=cattle. [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. _sq._ as to the custom of cutting off the leg of a diseased animal and hanging it up in the house, see above, p. , note . [ ] (sir) arthur mitchell, a.m., m.d., _on various superstitions in the north-west highlands and islands of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. (reprinted from the _proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland_, vol. iv.). [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. , quoting rev. r.m. heanley, "the vikings: traces of their folklore in marshland," a paper read before the viking club, london, and printed in its _saga-book_, vol. iii. part i. jan. . the wicken-tree is the mountain-ash or rowan free, which is a very efficient, or at all events a very popular protective against witchcraft. see _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, pp. _sq._, _sq._; mabel peacock, "the folklore of lincolnshire," _folk-lore_, xii. ( ) p. ; j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._; rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . see further _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq_. chapter v the interpretation of the fire-festivals § . _on the fire-festivals in general_ [general resemblance of the european fire-festivals to each other.] the foregoing survey of the popular fire-festivals of europe suggests some general observations. in the first place we can hardly help being struck by the resemblance which the ceremonies bear to each other, at whatever time of the year and in whatever part of europe they are celebrated. the custom of kindling great bonfires, leaping over them, and driving cattle through or round them would seem to have been practically universal throughout europe, and the same may be said of the processions or races with blazing torches round fields, orchards, pastures, or cattle-stalls. less widespread are the customs of hurling lighted discs into the air[ ] and trundling a burning wheel down hill;[ ] for to judge by the evidence which i have collected these modes of distributing the beneficial influence of the fire have been confined in the main to central europe. the ceremonial of the yule log is distinguished from that of the other fire-festivals by the privacy and domesticity which characterize it; but, as we have already seen, this distinction may well be due simply to the rough weather of midwinter, which is apt not only to render a public assembly in the open air disagreeable, but also at any moment to defeat the object of the assembly by extinguishing the all-important fire under a downpour of rain or a fall of snow. apart from these local or seasonal differences, the general resemblance between the fire-festivals at all times of the year and in all places is tolerably close. and as the ceremonies themselves resemble each other, so do the benefits which the people expect to reap from them. whether applied in the form of bonfires blazing at fixed points, or of torches carried about from place to place, or of embers and ashes taken from the smouldering heap of fuel, the fire is believed to promote the growth of the crops and the welfare of man and beast, either positively by stimulating them, or negatively by averting the dangers and calamities which threaten them from such causes as thunder and lightning, conflagration, blight, mildew, vermin, sterility, disease, and not least of all witchcraft. [two explanations suggested of the fire-festivals. according to w. mannhardt, they are charms to secure a supply of sunshine; according to dr. e. westermarck they are purificatory, being intended to burn and destroy all harmful influences.] but we naturally ask, how did it come about that benefits so great and manifold were supposed to be attained by means so simple? in what way did people imagine that they could procure so many goods or avoid so many ills by the application of fire and smoke, of embers and ashes? in short, what theory underlay and prompted the practice of these customs? for that the institution of the festivals was the outcome of a definite train of reasoning may be taken for granted; the view that primitive man acted first and invented his reasons to suit his actions afterwards, is not borne out by what we know of his nearest living representatives, the savage and the peasant. two different explanations of the fire-festivals have been given by modern enquirers. on the one hand it has been held that they are sun-charms or magical ceremonies intended, on the principle of imitative magic, to ensure a needful supply of sunshine for men, animals, and plants by kindling fires which mimic on earth the great source of light and heat in the sky. this was the view of wilhelm mannhardt.[ ] it may be called the solar theory. on the other hand it has been maintained that the ceremonial fires have no necessary reference to the sun but are simply purificatory in intention, being designed to burn up and destroy all harmful influences, whether these are conceived in a personal form as witches, demons, and monsters, or in an impersonal form as a sort of pervading taint or corruption of the air. this is the view of dr. edward westermarck[ ] and apparently of professor eugen mogk.[ ] it may be called the purificatory theory. obviously the two theories postulate two very different conceptions of the fire which plays the principal part in the rites. on the one view, the fire, like sunshine in our latitude, is a genial creative power which fosters the growth of plants and the development of all that makes for health and happiness; on the other view, the fire is a fierce destructive power which blasts and consumes all the noxious elements, whether spiritual or material, that menace the life of men, of animals, and of plants. according to the one theory the fire is a stimulant, according to the other it is a disinfectant; on the one view its virtue is positive, on the other it is negative. [the two explanations are perhaps not mutually exclusive.] yet the two explanations, different as they are in the character which they attribute to the fire, are perhaps not wholly irreconcilable. if we assume that the fires kindled at these festivals were primarily intended to imitate the sun's light and heat, may we not regard the purificatory and disinfecting qualities, which popular opinion certainly appears to have ascribed to them, as attributes derived directly from the purificatory and disinfecting qualities of sunshine? in this way we might conclude that, while the imitation of sunshine in these ceremonies was primary and original, the purification attributed to them was secondary and derivative. such a conclusion, occupying an intermediate position between the two opposing theories and recognizing an element of truth in both of them, was adopted by me in earlier editions of this work;[ ] but in the meantime dr. westermarck has argued powerfully in favour of the purificatory theory alone, and i am bound to say that his arguments carry great weight, and that on a fuller review of the facts the balance of evidence seems to me to incline decidedly in his favour. however, the case is not so clear as to justify us in dismissing the solar theory without discussion, and accordingly i propose to adduce the considerations which tell for it before proceeding to notice those which tell against it. a theory which had the support of so learned and sagacious an investigator as w. mannhardt is entitled to a respectful hearing. § . _the solar theory of the fire-festivals_ [theory that the fire-festivals are charms to ensure a supply of sunshine.] in an earlier part of this work we saw that savages resort to charms for making sunshine,[ ] and it would be no wonder if primitive man in europe did the same. indeed, when we consider the cold and cloudy climate of europe during a great part of the year, we shall find it natural that sun-charms should have played a much more prominent part among the superstitious practices of european peoples than among those of savages who live nearer the equator and who consequently are apt to get in the course of nature more sunshine than they want. this view of the festivals may be supported by various arguments drawn partly from their dates, partly from the nature of the rites, and partly from the influence which they are believed to exert upon the weather and on vegetation. [coincidence of two of the festivals with the solstices.] first, in regard to the dates of the festivals it can be no mere accident that two of the most important and widely spread of the festivals are timed to coincide more or less exactly with the summer and winter solstices, that is, with the two turning-points in the sun's apparent course in the sky when he reaches respectively his highest and his lowest elevation at noon. indeed with respect to the midwinter celebration of christmas we are not left to conjecture; we know from the express testimony of the ancients that it was instituted by the church to supersede an old heathen festival of the birth of the sun,[ ] which was apparently conceived to be born again on the shortest day of the year, after which his light and heat were seen to grow till they attained their full maturity at midsummer. therefore it is no very far fetched conjecture to suppose that the yule log, which figures so prominently in the popular celebration of christmas, was originally designed to help the labouring sun of midwinter to rekindle his seemingly expiring light. [attempt of the bushmen to warm up the fire of sirius in midwinter by kindling sticks.] the idea that by lighting a log on earth you can rekindle a fire in heaven or fan it into a brighter blaze, naturally seems to us absurd; but to the savage mind it wears a different aspect, and the institution of the great fire-festivals which we are considering probably dates from a time when europe was still sunk in savagery or at most in barbarism. now it can be shewn that in order to increase the celestial source of heat at midwinter savages resort to a practice analogous to that of our yule log, if the kindling of the yule log was originally a magical rite intended to rekindle the sun. in the southern hemisphere, where the order of the seasons is the reverse of ours, the rising of sirius or the dog star in july marks the season of the greatest cold instead of, as with us, the greatest heat; and just as the civilized ancients ascribed the torrid heat of midsummer to that brilliant star,[ ] so the modern savage of south africa attributes to it the piercing cold of midwinter and seeks to mitigate its rigour by warming up the chilly star with the genial heat of the sun. how he does so may be best described in his own words as follows:--[ ] "the bushmen perceive canopus, they say to a child: 'give me yonder piece of wood, that i may put the end of it in the fire, that i may point it burning towards grandmother, for grandmother carries bushman rice; grandmother shall make a little warmth for us; for she coldly comes out; the sun[ ] shall warm grandmother's eye for us.' sirius comes out; the people call out to one another: 'sirius comes yonder;' they say to one another: 'ye must burn a stick for us towards sirius.' they say to one another: 'who was it who saw sirius?' one man says to the other: 'our brother saw sirius,' the other man says to him: 'i saw sirius.' the other man says to him: 'i wish thee to burn a stick for us towards sirius; that the sun may shining come out for us; that sirius may not coldly come out' the other man (the one who saw sirius) says to his son: 'bring me the small piece of wood yonder, that i may put the end of it in the fire, that i may burn it towards grandmother; that grandmother may ascend the sky, like the other one, canopus.' the child brings him the piece of wood, he (the father) holds the end of it in the fire. he points it burning towards sirius; he says that sirius shall twinkle like canopus. he sings; he sings about canopus, he sings about sirius; he points to them with fire,[ ] that they may twinkle like each other. he throws fire at them. he covers himself up entirely (including his head) in his kaross and lies down. he arises, he sits down; while he does not again lie down; because he feels that he has worked, putting sirius into the sun's warmth; so that sirius may warmly come out. the women go out early to seek for bushman rice; they walk, sunning their shoulder blades."[ ] what the bushmen thus do to temper the cold of midwinter in the southern hemisphere by blowing up the celestial fires may have been done by our rude forefathers at the corresponding season in the northern hemisphere. [the burning wheels and discs of the fire-festivals may be direct imitations of the sun.] not only the date of some of the festivals but the manner of their celebration suggests a conscious imitation of the sun. the custom of rolling a burning wheel down a hill, which is often observed at these ceremonies, might well pass for an imitation of the sun's course in the sky, and the imitation would be especially appropriate on midsummer day when the sun's annual declension begins. indeed the custom has been thus interpreted by some of those who have recorded it.[ ] not less graphic, it may be said, is the mimicry of his apparent revolution by swinging a burning tar-barrel round a pole.[ ] again, the common practice of throwing fiery discs, sometimes expressly said to be shaped like suns, into the air at the festivals may well be a piece of imitative magic. in these, as in so many cases, the magic force may be supposed to take effect through mimicry or sympathy: by imitating the desired result you actually produce it: by counterfeiting the sun's progress through the heavens you really help the luminary to pursue his celestial journey with punctuality and despatch. the name "fire of heaven," by which the midsummer fire is sometimes popularly known,[ ] clearly implies a consciousness of a connexion between the earthly and the heavenly flame. [the wheel sometimes used to kindle the fire by friction may also be an imitation of the sun.] again, the manner in which the fire appears to have been originally kindled on these occasions has been alleged in support of the view that it was intended to be a mock-sun. as some scholars have perceived, it is highly probable that at the periodic festivals in former times fire was universally obtained by the friction of two pieces of wood.[ ] we have seen that it is still so procured in some places both at the easter and the midsummer festivals, and that it is expressly said to have been formerly so procured at the beltane celebration both in scotland and wales.[ ] but what makes it nearly certain that this was once the invariable mode of kindling the fire at these periodic festivals is the analogy of the need-fire, which has almost always been produced by the friction of wood, and sometimes by the revolution of a wheel. it is a plausible conjecture that the wheel employed for this purpose represents the sun,[ ] and if the fires at the regularly recurring celebrations were formerly produced in the same way, it might be regarded as a confirmation of the view that they were originally sun-charms. in point of fact there is, as kuhn has indicated,[ ] some evidence to shew that the midsummer fire was originally thus produced. we have seen that many hungarian swineherds make fire on midsummer eve by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and that they drive their pigs through the fire thus made.[ ] at obermedlingen, in swabia, the "fire of heaven," as it was called, was made on st. vitus's day (the fifteenth of june) by igniting a cartwheel, which, smeared with pitch and plaited with straw, was fastened on a pole twelve feet high, the top of the pole being inserted in the nave of the wheel. this fire was made on the summit of a mountain, and as the flame ascended, the people uttered a set form of words, with eyes and arms directed heavenward.[ ] here the fixing of a wheel on a pole and igniting it suggests that originally the fire was produced, as in the case of the need-fire, by the revolution of a wheel. the day on which the ceremony takes place (the fifteenth of june) is near midsummer; and we have seen that in masuren fire is, or used to be, actually made on midsummer day by turning a wheel rapidly about an oaken pole,[ ] though it is not said that the new fire so obtained is used to light a bonfire. however, we must bear in mind that in all such cases the use of a wheel may be merely a mechanical device to facilitate the operation of fire-making by increasing the friction; it need not have any symbolical significance. [the influence which the fires are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be thought to be due to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires.] further, the influence which these fires, whether periodic or occasional, are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be cited in support of the view that they are sun-charms, since the effects ascribed to them resemble those of sunshine. thus, the french belief that in a rainy june the lighting of the midsummer bonfires will cause the rain to cease[ ] appears to assume that they can disperse the dark clouds and make the sun to break out in radiant glory, drying the wet earth and dripping trees. similarly the use of the need-fire by swiss children on foggy days for the purpose of clearing away the mist[ ] may very naturally be interpreted as a sun-charm. again, we have seen that in the vosges mountains the people believe that the midsummer fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops.[ ] in sweden the warmth or cold of the coming season is inferred from the direction in which the flames of the may day bonfire are blown; if they blow to the south, it will be warm, if to the north, cold.[ ] no doubt at present the direction of the flames is regarded merely as an augury of the weather, not as a mode of influencing it. but we may be pretty sure that this is one of the cases in which magic has dwindled into divination. so in the eifel mountains, when the smoke blows towards the corn-fields, this is an omen that the harvest will be abundant.[ ] but the older view may have been not merely that the smoke and flames prognosticated, but that they actually produced an abundant harvest, the heat of the flames acting like sunshine on the corn. perhaps it was with this view that people in the isle of man lit fires to windward of their fields in order that the smoke might blow over them.[ ] so in south africa, about the month of april, the matabeles light huge fires to the windward of their gardens, "their idea being that the smoke, by passing over the crops, will assist the ripening of them."[ ] among the zulus also "medicine is burned on a fire placed to windward of the garden, the fumigation which the plants in consequence receive being held to improve the crop."[ ] again, the idea of our european peasants that the corn will grow well as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible,[ ] may be interpreted as a remnant of the belief in the quickening and fertilizing power of the bonfires. the same belief, it may be argued, reappears in the notion that embers taken from the bonfires and inserted in the fields will promote the growth of the crops,[ ] and it may be thought to underlie the customs of sowing flax-seed in the direction in which the flames blow,[ ] of mixing the ashes of the bonfire with the seed-corn at sowing,[ ] of scattering the ashes by themselves over the field to fertilize it,[ ] and of incorporating a piece of the yule log in the plough to make the seeds thrive.[ ] the opinion that the flax or hemp will grow as high as the flames rise or the people leap over them[ ] belongs clearly to the same class of ideas. again, at konz, on the banks of the moselle, if the blazing wheel which was trundled down the hillside reached the river without being extinguished, this was hailed as a proof that the vintage would be abundant. so firmly was this belief held that the successful performance of the ceremony entitled the villagers to levy a tax upon the owners of the neighbouring vineyards.[ ] here the unextinguished wheel might be taken to represent an unclouded sun, which in turn would portend an abundant vintage. so the waggon-load of white wine which the villagers received from the vineyards round about might pass for a payment for the sunshine which they had procured for the grapes. similarly we saw that in the vale of glamorgan a blazing wheel used to be trundled down hill on midsummer day, and that if the fire were extinguished before the wheel reached the foot of the hill, the people expected a bad harvest; whereas if the wheel kept alight all the way down and continued to blaze for a long time, the farmers looked forward to heavy crops that summer.[ ] here, again, it is natural to suppose that the rustic mind traced a direct connexion between the fire of the wheel and the fire of the sun, on which the crops are dependent. [the effect which the bonfires are supposed to have in fertilizing cattle and women may also be attributed to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires.] but in popular belief the quickening and fertilizing influence of the bonfires is not limited to the vegetable world; it extends also to animals. this plainly appears from the irish custom of driving barren cattle through the midsummer fires,[ ] from the french belief that the yule-log steeped in water helps cows to calve,[ ] from the french and servian notion that there will be as many chickens, calves, lambs, and kids as there are sparks struck out of the yule log,[ ] from the french custom of putting the ashes of the bonfires in the fowls' nests to make the hens lay eggs,[ ] and from the german practice of mixing the ashes of the bonfires with the drink of cattle in order to make the animals thrive.[ ] further, there are clear indications that even human fecundity is supposed to be promoted by the genial heat of the fires. in morocco the people think that childless couples can obtain offspring by leaping over the midsummer bonfire.[ ] it is an irish belief that a girl who jumps thrice over the midsummer bonfire will soon marry and become the mother of many children;[ ] in flanders women leap over the midsummer fires to ensure an easy delivery;[ ] and in various parts of france they think that if a girl dances round nine fires she will be sure to marry within the year.[ ] on the other hand, in lechrain people say that if a young man and woman, leaping over the midsummer fire together, escape unsmirched, the young woman will not become a mother within twelve months:[ ] the flames have not touched and fertilized her. in parts of switzerland and france the lighting of the yule log is accompanied by a prayer that the women may bear children, the she-goats bring forth kids, and the ewes drop lambs.[ ] the rule observed in some places that the bonfires should be kindled by the person who was last married[ ] seems to belong to the same class of ideas, whether it be that such a person is supposed to receive from, or to impart to, the fire a generative and fertilizing influence. the common practice of lovers leaping over the fires hand in hand may very well have originated in a notion that thereby their marriage would be blessed with offspring; and the like motive would explain the custom which obliges couples married within the year to dance to the light of torches.[ ] and the scenes of profligacy which appear to have marked the midsummer celebration among the esthonians,[ ] as they once marked the celebration of may day among ourselves, may have sprung, not from the mere license of holiday-makers, but from a crude notion that such orgies were justified, if not required, by some mysterious bond which linked the life of man to the courses of the heavens at this turning-point of the year. [the custom of carrying lighted torches about the country at the festival may be explained as an attempt to diffuse the sun's heat.] at the festivals which we are considering the custom of kindling bonfires is commonly associated with a custom of carrying lighted torches about the fields, the orchards, the pastures, the flocks and the herds; and we can hardly doubt that the two customs are only two different ways of attaining the same object, namely, the benefits which are believed to flow from the fire, whether it be stationary or portable. accordingly if we accept the solar theory of the bonfires, we seem bound to apply it also to the torches; we must suppose that the practice of marching or running with blazing torches about the country is simply a means of diffusing far and wide the genial influence of the sunshine, of which these flickering flames are a feeble imitation. in favour of this view it may be said that sometimes the torches are carried about the fields for the express purpose of fertilizing them,[ ] and for the same purpose live coals from the bonfires are sometimes placed in the fields "to prevent blight."[ ] on the eve of twelfth day in normandy men, women, and children run wildly through the fields and orchards with lighted torches, which they wave about the branches and dash against the trunks of the fruit-trees for the sake of burning the moss and driving away the moles and field mice. "they believe that the ceremony fulfils the double object of exorcizing the vermin whose multiplication would be a real calamity, and of imparting fecundity to the trees, the fields, and even the cattle"; and they imagine that the more the ceremony is prolonged, the greater will be the crop of fruit next autumn.[ ] in bohemia they say that the corn will grow as high as they fling the blazing besoms into the air.[ ] nor are such notions confined to europe. in corea, a few days before the new year festival, the eunuchs of the palace swing burning torches, chanting invocations the while, and this is supposed to ensure bountiful crops for the next season.[ ] the custom of trundling a burning wheel over the fields, which used to be observed in poitou for the express purpose of fertilizing them,[ ] may be thought to embody the same idea in a still more graphic form; since in this way the mock-sun itself, not merely its light and heat represented by torches, is made actually to pass over the ground which is to receive its quickening and kindly influence. once more, the custom of carrying lighted brands round cattle[ ] is plainly equivalent to driving the animals through the bonfire; and if the bonfire is a sun-charm, the torches must be so also. § . _the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals_ [theory that the fires at the festivals are purificatory, being intended to burn up all harmful things.] thus far we have considered what may be said for the theory that at the european fire-festivals the fire is kindled as a charm to ensure an abundant supply of sunshine for man and beast, for corn and fruits. it remains to consider what may be said against this theory and in favour of the view that in these rites fire is employed not as a creative but as a cleansing agent, which purifies men, animals, and plants by burning up and consuming the noxious elements, whether material or spiritual, which menace all living things with disease and death. [the purificatory or destructive effect of the fires is often alleged by the people who light them; the great evil against which the fire at the festivals is directed appears to be witchcraft.] first, then, it is to be observed that the people who practise the fire-customs appear never to allege the solar theory in explanation of them, while on the contrary they do frequently and emphatically put forward the purificatory theory. this is a strong argument in favour of the purificatory and against the solar theory; for the popular explanation of a popular custom is never to be rejected except for grave cause. and in the present case there seems to be no adequate reason for rejecting it. the conception of fire as a destructive agent, which can be turned to account for the consumption of evil things, is so simple and obvious that it could hardly escape the minds even of the rude peasantry with whom these festivals originated. on the other hand the conception of fire as an emanation of the sun, or at all events as linked to it by a bond of physical sympathy, is far less simple and obvious; and though the use of fire as a charm to produce sunshine appears to be undeniable,[ ] nevertheless in attempting to explain popular customs we should never have recourse to a more recondite idea when a simpler one lies to hand and is supported by the explicit testimony of the people themselves. now in the case of the fire-festivals the destructive aspect of fire is one upon which the people dwell again and again; and it is highly significant that the great evil against which the fire is directed appears to be witchcraft. again and again we are told that the fires are intended to burn or repel the witches;[ ] and the intention is sometimes graphically expressed by burning an effigy of a witch in the fire.[ ] hence, when we remember the great hold which the dread of witchcraft has had on the popular european mind in all ages, we may suspect that the primary intention of all these fire-festivals was simply to destroy or at all events get rid of the witches, who were regarded as the causes of nearly all the misfortunes and calamities that befall men, their cattle, and their crops.[ ] [amongst the evils for which the fire-festivals are deemed remedies the foremost is cattle-disease, and cattle-disease is often supposed to be an effect of witchcraft.] this suspicion is confirmed when we examine the evils for which the bonfires and torches were supposed to provide a remedy. foremost, perhaps, among these evils we may reckon the diseases of cattle; and of all the ills that witches are believed to work there is probably none which is so constantly insisted on as the harm they do to the herds, particularly by stealing the milk from the cows.[ ] now it is significant that the need-fire, which may perhaps be regarded as the parent of the periodic fire-festivals, is kindled above all as a remedy for a murrain or other disease of cattle; and the circumstance suggests, what on general grounds seems probable, that the custom of kindling the need-fire goes back to a time when the ancestors of the european peoples subsisted chiefly on the products of their herds, and when agriculture as yet played a subordinate part in their lives. witches and wolves are the two great foes still dreaded by the herdsman in many parts of europe;[ ] and we need not wonder that he should resort to fire as a powerful means of banning them both. among slavonic peoples it appears that the foes whom the need-fire is designed to combat are not so much living witches as vampyres and other evil spirits,[ ] and the ceremony, as we saw, aims rather at repelling these baleful beings than at actually consuming them in the flames. but for our present purpose these distinctions are immaterial. the important thing to observe is that among the slavs the need-fire, which is probably the original of all the ceremonial fires now under consideration, is not a sun-charm, but clearly and unmistakably nothing but a means of protecting man and beast against the attacks of maleficent creatures, whom the peasant thinks to burn or scare by the heat of the fire, just as he might burn or scare wild animals. [again, the bonfires are thought to avert hail, thunder, lightning, and other maladies, all of which are attributed to the maleficent arts of witches.] again, the bonfires are often supposed to protect the fields against hail[ ] and the homestead against thunder and lightning.[ ] but both hail and thunderstorms are frequently thought to be caused by witches;[ ] hence the fire which bans the witches necessarily serves at the same time as a talisman against hail, thunder, and lightning. further, brands taken from the bonfires are commonly kept in the houses to guard them against conflagration;[ ] and though this may perhaps be done on the principle of homoeopathic magic, one fire being thought to act as a preventive of another, it is also possible that the intention may be to keep witch-incendiaries at bay. again, people leap over the bonfires as a preventive of colic,[ ] and look at the flames steadily in order to preserve their eyes in good health;[ ] and both colic and sore eyes are in germany, and probably elsewhere, set down to the machinations of witches.[ ] once more, to leap over the midsummer fires or to circumambulate them is thought to prevent a person from feeling pains in his back at reaping;[ ] and in germany such pains are called "witch-shots" and ascribed to witchcraft.[ ] [the burning wheels rolled down hills and the burning discs and brooms thrown into the air may be intended to burn the invisible witches.] but if the bonfires and torches of the fire-festivals are to be regarded primarily as weapons directed against witches and wizards, it becomes probable that the same explanation applies not only to the flaming discs which are hurled into the air, but also to the burning wheels which are rolled down hill on these occasions; discs and wheels, we may suppose, are alike intended to burn the witches who hover invisible in the air or haunt unseen the fields, the orchards, and the vineyards on the hillside.[ ] certainly witches are constantly thought to ride through the air on broomsticks or other equally convenient vehicles; and if they do so, how can you get at them so effectually as by hurling lighted missiles, whether discs, torches, or besoms, after them as they flit past overhead in the gloom? the south slavonian peasant believes that witches ride in the dark hail-clouds; so he shoots at the clouds to bring down the hags, while he curses them, saying, "curse, curse herodias, thy mother is a heathen, damned of god and fettered through the redeemer's blood." also he brings out a pot of glowing charcoal on which he has thrown holy oil, laurel leaves, and wormwood to make a smoke. the fumes are supposed to ascend to the clouds and stupefy the witches, so that they tumble down to earth. and in order that they may not fall soft, but may hurt themselves very much, the yokel hastily brings out a chair and tilts it bottom up so that the witch in falling may break her legs on the legs of the chair. worse than that, he cruelly lays scythes, bill-hooks and other formidable weapons edge upwards so as to cut and mangle the poor wretches when they drop plump upon them from the clouds.[ ] [on this view the fertility supposed to follow the use of fire results indirectly from breaking the spells of witches.] on this view the fertility supposed to follow the application of fire in the form of bonfires, torches, discs, rolling wheels, and so forth, is not conceived as resulting directly from an increase of solar heat which the fire has magically generated; it is merely an indirect result obtained by freeing the reproductive powers of plants and animals from the fatal obstruction of witchcraft. and what is true of the reproduction of plants and animals may hold good also of the fertility of the human sexes. we have seen that the bonfires are supposed to promote marriage and to procure offspring for childless couples. this happy effect need not flow directly from any quickening or fertilizing energy in the fire; it may follow indirectly from the power of the fire to remove those obstacles which the spells of witches and wizards notoriously present to the union of man and wife.[ ] [on the whole the theory of the purificatory or destructive intention of the fire-festivals seems the more probable.] on the whole, then, the theory of the purificatory virtue of the ceremonial fires appears more probable and more in accordance with the evidence than the opposing theory of their connexion with the sun. but europe is not the only part of the world where ceremonies of this sort have been performed; elsewhere the passage through the flames or smoke or over the glowing embers of a bonfire, which is the central feature of most of the rites, has been employed as a cure or a preventive of various ills. we have seen that the midsummer ritual of fire in morocco is practically identical with that of our european peasantry; and customs more or less similar have been observed by many races in various parts of the world. a consideration of some of them may help us to decide between the conflicting claims of the two rival theories, which explain the ceremonies as sun-charms or purifications respectively. notes: [ ] above, pp. _sq._, , , , , _sq._, . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._, , , , , _sq._, _sq._, , , . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sqq.; id., the origin and development of the moral ideas_ (london, - ), i. ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. - . [ ] e. mogk, "sitten und gebräuche im kreislauf des jahres," in r. wuttke's _sächsische volkskunde_*[ ] (dresden, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the golden bough_, second edition (london, ), iii. : "the custom of leaping over the fire and driving cattle through it may be intended, on the one hand, to secure for man and beast a share of the vital energy of the sun, and, on the other hand, to purge them of all evil influences; for to the primitive mind fire is the most powerful of all purificatory agents"; and again, _id._ iii. : "it is quite possible that in these customs the idea of the quickening power of fire may be combined with the conception of it as a purgative agent for the expulsion or destruction of evil beings, such as witches and the vermin that destroy the fruits of the earth. certainly the fires are often interpreted in the latter way by the persons who light them; and this purgative use of the element comes out very prominently, as we have seen, in the general expulsion of demons from towns and villages. but in the present class of cases this aspect of fire may be secondary, if indeed it is more than a later misinterpretation of the custom." [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq_. [ ] see _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. _sqq_. [ ] manilius, _astronom_. v. _sqq._: "_cum vero in vastos surget nemeaeus hiatus, exoriturque canis, latratque canicula flammas et rabit igne suo geminatque incendia solis, qua subdente facem terris radiosque movente_" etc. pliny, _naturalis historic_ xviii. _sq_.: "_exoritur dein post triduum fere ubique confessum inter omnes sidus ingens quod canis ortum vocamus, sole partem primam leonis ingresso. hoc fit post solstitium xxiii. die. sentiunt id maria et terrae, multae vero et ferae, ut suis locis diximus. neque est minor ei veneratio quam descriptis in deos stellis accendique solem et magnam aestus obtinet causam_." [ ] _specimens of bushman folklore_ collected by the late w.h.i. bleek, ph.d., and l.c. lloyd (london, ), pp. , . in quoting the passage i have omitted the brackets which the editors print for the purpose of indicating the words which are implied, but not expressed, in the original bushman text. [ ] "the sun is a little warm, when this star appears in winter" (editors of _specimens of bushman folklore_). [ ] "with the stick that he had held in the fire, moving it up and down quickly" (editors). [ ] "they take one arm out of the kaross, thereby exposing one shoulder blade to the sun" (editors). [ ] see above, pp. , _sq._ on the wheel as an emblem of the sun, see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] ii. ; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sqq._; h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sqq._; william simpson, _the buddhist praying wheel_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ it is a popular armenian idea that "the body of the sun has the shape of the wheel of a water-mill; it revolves and moves forward. as drops of water sputter from the mill-wheel, so sunbeams shoot out from the spokes of the sun-wheel" (m. abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_, leipsic, , p. ). in the old mexican picture-books the usual representation of the sun is "a wheel, often brilliant with many colours, the rays of which are so many bloodstained tongues, by means of which the sun receives his nourishment" (e.j. payne, _history of the new world called america_, oxford, , i. ). [ ] above, p. . [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. ; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. , ; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. . [ ] compare j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (gottingen und leipsic, - ), ii. ; adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sq._, ; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. . lindenbrog in his glossary on the capitularies (quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ) expressly says: "the rustics in many parts of germany, particularly on the festival of st. john the baptist, wrench a stake from a fence, wind a rope round it, and pull it to and fro till it catches fire. this fire they carefully feed with straw and dry sticks and scatter the ashes over the vegetable gardens, foolishly and superstitiously imagining that in this way the caterpillar can be kept off. they call such a fire _nodfeur_ or _nodfyr_, that is to say need-fire." [ ] above, pp. _sq._, _sq._, , _sq._, , , . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_, i. ; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers_,*[ ] pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. ; w.e. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. , § . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] l. decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. j. shooter, _the kafirs of natal and the zulu country_ (london, ), p. . [ ] above, pp. , . [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. , ; compare p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , . [ ] above, pp. , , , ; compare pp. , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , . the torches of demeter, which figure so largely in her myth and on her monuments, are perhaps to be explained by this custom. see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. . w. mannhardt thought (_baumkultus_, p. ) that the torches in the modern european customs are imitations of lightning. at some of their ceremonies the indians of north-west america imitate lightning by means of pitch-wood torches which are flashed through the roof of the house. see j.g. swan, quoted by franz boas, "the social organization and the secret societies of the kwakiutl indians," _report of the united states national museum for _ (washington, ), p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), pp. _sq._; jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. - . see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq._ [ ] br. jelínek, "materialen zur vorgeschichte mid volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropolog. gesellschaft in wien_ xxi. ( ) p. note. [ ] mrs. bishop, _korea and her neighbours_ (london, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , . [ ] see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , . for more evidence of the use of fire to burn or expel witches on certain days of the year, see _the scapegoat_ pp. _sqq._ less often the fires are thought to burn or repel evil spirits and vampyres. see above, pp. , , , , , , . sometimes the purpose of the fires is to drive away dragons (above, pp. , ). [ ] above, pp. , , _sq._, . [ ] "in short, of all the ills incident to the life of man, none are so formidable as witchcraft, before the combined influence of which, to use the language of an honest man who had himself severely suffered from its effects, the great laird of grant himself could not stand them if they should fairly yoke upon him" (w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_, edinburgh, , pp. _sq._). "every misfortune and calamity that took place in the parish, such as ill-health, the death of friends, the loss of stock, and the failure of crops; yea to such a length did they carry their superstition, that even the inclemency of the seasons, were attributed to the influence of certain old women who were supposed to be in league, and had dealings with the devil. these the common people thought had the power and too often the inclination to injure their property, and torment their persons" (_county folklore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock, london, , p. ). "the county of salop is no exception to the rule of superstition. the late vicar of a parish on the clee hills, startled to find that his parishioners still believed in witchcraft, once proposed to preach a sermon against it, but he was dissuaded from doing so by the parish schoolmaster, who assured him that the belief was so deeply rooted in the people's minds that he would be more likely to alienate them from the church than to weaken their faith in witchcraft" (miss c.f. burne and miss g.f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_, london, , p. ). "wherever a man or any living creature falls sick, or a misfortune of any kind happens, without any natural cause being discoverable or rather lying on the surface, there in all probability witchcraft is at work. the sudden stiffness in the small of the back, which few people can account for at the time, is therefore called a 'witch-shot' and is really ascribed to witchcraft" (l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_, oldenburg, , i. p. , § ). what sir walter scott said less than a hundred years ago is probably still true: "the remains of the superstition sometimes occur; there can be no doubt that the vulgar are still addicted to the custom of scoring above the breath (as it is termed), and other counter-spells, evincing that the belief in witchcraft is only asleep, and might in remote corners be again awakened to deeds of blood" (_letters on demonology and witchcraft_, london, , p. ). compare l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ i. p. , § : "the great power, the malicious wickedness of the witches, cause them to be feared and hated by everybody. the hatred goes so far that still at the present day you may hear it said right out that it is a pity burning has gone out of fashion, for the evil crew deserve nothing else. perhaps the hatred might find vent yet more openly, if the fear were not so great." [ ] for some evidence, see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_; ii. - , _sqq._ it is a popular belief, universally diffused in germany, that cattle-plagues are caused by witches (a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_,*[ ] berlin, , p. § ). the scotch highlanders thought that a witch could destroy the whole of a farmer's live stock by hiding a small bag, stuffed with charms, in a cleft of the stable or byre (w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_, edinburgh, , pp. _sq._). [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsch mythologie_,*[ ] ii. _sqq._; j.v. grohmann, _aberglauben und gebräuche aus böhmen und mähren_ (prague and leipsic, ), p. § ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), pp. _sq._, § ; j. ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. ; alois john, _sitte, branch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , , , , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § . [ ] above, pp. , , , compare . [ ] a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § ; l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . see above, p. note. [ ] in the ammerland, a district of oldenburg, you may sometimes see an old cart-wheel fixed over the principal door or on the gable of a house; it serves as a charm against witchcraft and is especially intended to protect the cattle as they are driven out and in. see l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . can this use of a wheel as a talisman against witchcraft be derived from the practice of rolling fiery wheels down hill for a similar purpose? [ ] f.s. krauss, _volksglaube und religiöser brauch der südslaven_ (münster i. w., ), pp. _sq._ [ ] in german such spells are called _nestelknüpfen_; in french, _nouer l'aiguilette_. see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] ii. , ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § ; k. doutté, _magic et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._, _sqq._; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. _sq._ myth, ritual and religion volume ii. by andrew lang longmans, green, and co. paternoster row, london new york and bombay first printed, august, myth, ritual and religion chapter xii. gods of the lowest races. savage religion mysterious--why this is so--australians in --sir john lubbock--roskoff--evidence of religion--mr. manning--mr. howitt--supreme beings--mr. tylor's theory of borrowing--reply--morality sanctioned--its nature--satirical rite--"our father"--mr. ridley on a creator--mr. langloh parker--dr. roth--conclusion--australians' religious. the science of anthropology can speak, with some confidence, on many questions of mythology. materials are abundant and practically undisputed, because, as to their myths, savage races have spoken out with freedom. myth represents, now the early scientific, now the early imaginative and humorous faculty, playing freely round all objects of thought: even round the superhuman beings of belief. but, as to his religion, the savage by no means speaks out so freely. religion represents his serious mood of trust, dependence or apprehension. in certain cases the ideas about superhuman makers and judges are veiled in mysteries, rude sketches of the mysteries of greece, to which the white man is but seldom admitted. in other cases the highest religious conceptions of the people are in a state of obsolescence, are subordinated to the cult of accessible minor deities, and are rarely mentioned. while sacrifice or service again is done to the lower objects of faith (ghosts or gods developed out of ghosts) the supreme being, in a surprising number of instances, is wholly unpropitiated. having all things, he needs nothing (at all events gets nothing) at men's hands except obedience to his laws; being good, he is not feared; or being obsolescent (superseded, as it seems, by deities who can be bribed) he has shrunk to the shadow of a name. of the gods too good and great to need anything, the ahone of the red men in virginia, or the dendid of the african dinkas, is an example. of the obsolescent god, now but a name, the atahocan of the hurons was, while the "lord in heaven" of the zulus is, an instance. among the relatively supreme beings revealed only in the mysteries, the gods of many australian tribes are deserving of observation. for all these reasons, mystery, absence of sacrifice or idol, and obsolescence, the religion of savages is a subject much more obscure than their mythology. the truth is that anthropological inquiry is not yet in a position to be dogmatic; has not yet knowledge sufficient for a theory of the origins of religion, and the evolution of belief from its lowest stages and earliest germs. nevertheless such a theory has been framed, and has been already stated. we formulated the objections to this current hypothesis, and observed that its defenders must take refuge in denying the evidence as to low savage religions, or, if the facts be accepted, must account for them by a theory of degradation, or by a theory of borrowing from christian sources. that the australians are not degenerate we demonstrated, and we must now give reasons for holding that their religious conceptions are not borrowed from europeans. the australians, when observed by dampier on the north-west coast in , seemed "the miserablest people in the world," without houses, agriculture, metals, or domesticated animals.* in this condition they still remain, when not under european influence. dampier, we saw, noted peculiarities: "be it little or much they get, every one has his part, as well the young and tender as the old and feeble, who are not able to go abroad, as the strong and lusty". this kind of justice or generosity, or unselfishness, is still inculcated in the religious mysteries of some of the race. generosity is certainly one of the native's leading features. he is always accustomed to give a share of his food, or of what he may possess, to his fellows. it may be, of course, objected to this that in doing so he is only following an old-established custom, the breaking of which would expose him to harsh treatment and to being looked on as a churlish fellow. it will, however, be hardly denied that, as this custom expresses the idea that, in this particular matter, every one is supposed to act in a kindly way towards certain individuals: the very existence of such a custom, even if it be only carried out in the hope of securing at some time a _quid pro quo_, shows that the native is alive to the fact that an action which benefits some one else is worthy to be performed.... * early voyages to australia, pp. - . hakluyt society. it is with the native a fixed habit to give away part of what he has."* the authors of this statement do not say that the duty is inculcated, in central australia, under religious sanction, in the tribal mysteries. this, however, is the case among the kurnai, and some tribes of victoria and new south wales.** since dampier found the duty practised as early as , it will scarcely be argued that the natives adopted this course of what should be christian conduct from their observations of christian colonists. the second point which impressed dampier was that men and women, old and young, all lacked the two front upper teeth. among many tribes of the natives of new south wales and victoria, the boys still have their front teeth knocked out, when initiated, but the custom does not prevail (in ritual) where circumcision and another very painful rite are practised, as in central australia and central queensland. dampier's evidence shows how little the natives have changed in two hundred years. yet evidence of progress may be detected, perhaps, as we have already shown. but one fact, perhaps of an opposite bearing, must be noted. a singular painting, in a cave, of a person clothed in a robe of red, reaching to the feet, with sleeves, and with a kind of halo (or set of bandages) round the head, remains a mystery, like similar figures with blue halos or bandages, clothed and girdled. none of the figures had mouths; otherwise, in sir george grey's sketches, they have a remote air of cimabue's work.*** these designs were by men familiar with clothing, whether their own, or that of strangers observed by them, though in one case an unclothed figure carries a kangaroo. at present the natives draw with much spirit, when provided with european materials, as may be seen in mrs. langloh parker's two volumes of _australian legendary tales_. their decorative patterns vary in character in different parts of the continent, but nowhere do they now execute works like those in the caves discovered by sir george grey. the reader must decide for himself how far these monuments alone warrant an inference of great degeneration in australia, or are connected with religion. * spencer and gillen, natives of central australia, p. . ** howitt, journal anthrop. inst., , p. . *** grey's journals of expeditions of discovery in north- west and western australia, in the years - , vol i., pp. - . sir george regarded the pictures as perhaps very ancient. the natives "chaffed" him when he asked for traditions on the subject. such are the australians, men without kings or chiefs, and what do we know of their beliefs? the most contradictory statements about their religion may be found in works of science mr. huxley declared that "their theology is a mere belief in the existence, powers and dispositions (usually malignant) of ghost-like entities who may be propitiated or scared away; but no cult can be properly said to exist. and in this stage theology is wholly independent of ethics." this, he adds, is "theology in its simplest condition". in a similar sense, sir john lubbock writes: "the australians have no idea of creation, nor do they use prayers; they have no religious forms, ceremonies or worship. they do not believe in the existence of a deity, nor is morality in any way connected with their religion, if it can be so called."* * lubbock, origin of civilisation, p. , . in , for "a deity" "a true deity". this remark must be compared with another in the same work ( , p. ). "mr. ridley, indeed,... states that they have a traditional belief in one supreme creator, called baiamai, but he admits that most of the witnesses who were examined before the select committee appointed by the legislative council of victoria in to report on the aborigines, gave it as their opinion that the natives had no religious ideas. it appears, moreover, from a subsequent remark, that baiamai only possessed 'traces' of the three attributes of the god of the bible, eternity, omnipotence and goodness".* * cf. j. a. i., , - . mr. ridley, an accomplished linguist who had lived with wild blacks in - , in fact, said long ago, that the australian _bora_, or mystery, "involves the idea of dedication to god ". he asked old billy murri bundur whether men _worshipped_ baiame at the bora? "of course they do," said billy. mr. ridley, to whose evidence we shall return, was not the only affirmative witness. archdeacon gunther had no doubt that baiame was equivalent to the supreme being, "a remnant of original traditions," and it was mr. günther, not mr. ridley, who spoke of "traces" of baiame's eternity, omnipotence and goodness. mr. ridley gave similar reports from evidence collected by the committee of . he found the higher creeds most prominent in the interior, hundreds of miles from the coast. apparently the reply of gustav roskoff to sir john lubbock ( ) did not alter that writer's opinion. roskoff pointed out that waitz-gerland, while denying that australian beliefs were derived from any higher culture, denounced the theory that they have no religion as "entirely false". "belief in a good being is found in south australia, new south wales, and the centre of the south-eastern continent."* the opinion of waitz is highly esteemed, and that not merely because, as mr. max müller has pointed out, he has edited greek classical works. _avec du grec on nepeut gâter rien_. mr. oldfield, in addition to bogles and a water-spirit, found biam (baiame) and namba-jundi, who admits souls into his paradise, while warnyura torments the bad under earth.** mr. eyre, publishing in , gives baiame (on the morrum-bidgee, biam; on the murray, biam-vaitch-y) as a source of songs sung at dances, and a cause of disease. he is deformed, sits cross-legged, or paddles a canoe. on the murray he found a creator, noorele, "all powerful, and of benevolent character," with three unborn sons, dwelling "up among the clouds". souls of dead natives join them in the skies. nevertheless "the natives, as far as yet can be ascertained, have no religious belief or ceremonies"; and, though noorele is credited with "the origin of creation," "he made the earth, trees, water, etc.," a deity, or great first cause, "can hardly be said to be acknowledged".*** * waitz-gerland, anthropologic, vi. et seq. ** oldfield, translations of ethnol. soc., iii. . on this evidence i lay no stress. *** eyre, journals, ii. pp. - . such are the consistent statements of mr. eyre! roskoff also cites mr. ridley, braim, cunningham, dawson, and other witnesses, as opposed to sir john lubbock, and he includes mr. tylor.* mr. tylor, later, found baiame, or pei-a-mei, no earlier in literature than about , in mr. hale's _united states exploring expedition?_ previous to that date, baiame, it seems, was unknown to mr. threlkeld, whose early works are of - . he only speaks of koin, a kind of goblin, and for lack of a native name for god, mr. threlkeld tried to introduce jehova-ka-biruê, and eloi, but failed. mr. tylor, therefore, appears to suppose that the name, baiame, and, at all events, his divine qualities, were introduced by missionaries, apparently between and .*** to this it must be replied that mr. hale, about , writes that "when the missionaries first came to wellington" (mr. threlkeld's own district) "baiame was worshipped there with songs". "these songs or hymns, _according to mr. threlkeld_, were passed on from a considerable distance. it is notorious that songs and dances are thus passed on, till they reach tribes who do not even know the meaning of the words."**** * roskoff, das religionstoesen der rohesten naturvolher, pp. - . ** ethnology and philology, p. . . *** tylor, the limits of savage religion, j. a. i., vol. xxi. . **** roth, natives of n.-w. central queensland, p. . in this way baiame songs had reached wellington before the arrival of the missionaries, and for this fact mr. threlkeld (who is supposed not to have known baiame) is mr. hale's authority. in mr. tylor's opinion (as i understand it) the word baiame was the missionary translation of our word "creator," and derived from _baia_ "to make". now, mr. ridley says that mr. greenway "discovered" this _baia_ to be the root of baiame. but what missionary introduced the word before ? not mr. threlkeld, for he (according to mr. tylor), did not know the word, and he tried eloi, and jehova-ka-biru£, while immanueli was also tried and also failed* baiame, known in , does not occur in a missionary primer before mr. ridley's _gurre kamilaroi_ ( ), so the missionary primer did not launch baiame before the missionaries came to wellington. according to mr. hale, the baiame songs were brought by blacks from a distance (we know how greek mysteries were also _colportés_ to new centres), and the yearly rite had, in , been for three years in abeyance. moreover, the etymology, _baia_ "to make" has a competitor in "byamee = big man".** thus baiame, as a divine being, preceded the missionaries, and is not a word of missionary manufacture, while sacred words really of missionary manufacture do not find their way into native tradition. mr. hale admits that the ideas about baiame may "possibly" be of european origin, though the great reluctance of the blacks to adopt any opinion from europeans makes against that theory.*** * ridley, speaking of . lang's queensland, p. . ** mrs. langloh parker, more australian legendary tales. . glossary. *** op. cit., p. . it may be said that, if baiame was premissionary, his higher attributes date after mr. ridley's labours, abandoned for lack of encouragement in . in , mr. hale found baiame located in an isle of the seas, like circe, living on fish which came to his call. some native theologians attributed creation to his son, burambin, the demiurge, a common savage form of gnosticism. on the nature of baiame, we have, however, some curious early evidence of - . mr. james manning, in these years, and earlier, lived "near the outside boundaries of settlers to the south". a conversation with goethe, when the poet was eighty-five, induced him to study the native beliefs. "no missionaries," he writes, "ever came to the southern district at any time, and it was not till many years later that they landed in sydney on their way to moreton bay, to attempt, in vain, to christianise the blacks of that locality, before the queensland separation from this colony took place." mr. manning lost his notes of , but recovered a copy from a set lent to lord audley, and read them, in november, , to the royal society of new south wales. the notes are of an extraordinary character, and mr. manning, perhaps unconsciously, exaggerated their christian analogies, by adopting christian terminology. dean cowper, however, corroborated mr. manning's general opinion, by referring to evidence of archdeacon gunther, who sent a grammar, with remarks on "bhaime, or bhaiame," from wellington to mr. max müller. "he received his information, he told me, from some of the oldest blacks, who, he was satisfied, could not have derived their ideas from white men, as they had not then had intercourse with them." old savages are not apt to be in a hurry to borrow european notions. mr. manning also averred that he obtained his information with the greatest difficulty. "they required such secrecy on my part, and seemed so afraid of being heard even in the most secret places, that, in one or two cases, i have seen them almost tremble in speaking." one native, after carefully examining doors and windows, "stood in a wooden fireplace, and spoke in a tone little above a whisper, and confirmed what i had before heard". another stipulated that silence must be observed, otherwise the european hands might question his wife, in which case he would be obliged to kill her. mr. howitt also found that the name of darumulun (in religion) is too sacred to be spoken except almost in whispers, while the total exclusion of women from mysteries and religious knowledge, on pain of death, is admitted to be universal among the tribes.* such secrecy, so widely diffused, is hardly compatible with humorous imposture by the natives. there is an element of humour in all things. mr. manning, in , appealed to his friend, mr. mann, to give testimony to the excellency of black andy, the native from whom he derived most of his notes, which were corroborated by other black witnesses. mr. mann arose and replied that "he had never met one aborigine who had any true belief in a supreme being". on cross-examination, they always said that they had got their information from a missionary or other resident. black andy was not alluded to by mr. mann, who regarded all these native religious ideas as filtrations from european sources. mr. palmer, on the other hand, corroborated mr. manning, who repeated the expression of his convictions.** such, then, is the perplexed condition of the evidence. * howitt,. . a. i., xiii. . ** mr. mann told a story of native magic, viewed by himself, which might rouse scepticism among persons not familiar with what these conjurers can do. it may be urged that the secrecy and timidity of mr. manning's informants, corresponding with mr. howitt's experience, makes for the affirmative side; that, in , when mr. manning made his notes, missionaries were scarce, and that a native "cross-examined" by the sceptical and jovial mr. mann, would probably not contradict. (lubbock, o. of c. p. .) confidence is only won by sympathy, and one inquirer will get authentic legends and folklore from a celt, while another of the ordinary english type will totally fail on this point mr. manning says: "sceptics should consider how easy it might be for intelligent men to pass almost a lifetime among the blacks in any quarter of this continent without securing the confidence even of the best of the natives around them, through whom they might possibly become acquainted with their religious secrets, secrets which they dare not reveal to their own women at all, nor to their adult youths until the latter have been sworn to reticence under that terrifying ceremony which my notes describe". in the same way mrs. langloh parker found that an european neighbour would ask, "but have the blacks any legends?" and we have cited mr. hartt on the difficulty of securing legends on the amazon, while mr. sproat had to live long among, and become very intimate with, the tribes of british columbia, before he could get any information about their beliefs. thus, the present writer is disinclined to believe that the intelligence offered to mr. manning with shy secrecy in was wholly a native copy of recently acquired hints on religion derived from europeans, especially as mr. howitt, who had lived long among the kurnai, and had written copiously on them, knew nothing of their religion, before, about , he was initiated and admitted to the knowledge like that of mr. manning in the theory of borrowing is also checked by the closely analogous savage beliefs reported from north america before a single missionary had arrived, and from africa. for the australian, african and american ideas have a common point of contact, not easily to be explained as deduced from christianity. according, then, to mr. manning, the natives believed in a being called boyma, who dwells in heaven, "immovably fixed in a crystal rock, with only the upper half of a supernatural body visible". now, about , a native described baiame to mr. howitt as "a very great old man with a beard," and with crystal pillars growing out of his shoulders which prop up a supernal sky. this vision of baiame was seen by the native, apparently as a result of the world-wide practice of crystal-gazing.* mr. tylor suspects "the old man with the beard" as derived from christian artistic representations, but old men are notoriously the most venerated objects among the aborigines. turning now to mrs. langloh parker's _more australian legendary tales_ (p. ), we find byamee "fixed to the crystal rock on which he sat in bullimah" (paradise). are we to suppose that some savage caught at christian teaching, added this feature of the crystal rock from "the glassy sea" of the apocalpyse, or from the great white throne, and succeeded in securing wide acceptance and long persistence for a notion borrowed from europeans? is it likely that the chief opponents of christianity everywhere, the wirreenuns or sorcerers, would catch at the idea, introduce it into the conservative ritual of the mysteries, and conceal it from women and children who are as open as adults to missionary influence? yet from native women and children the belief is certainly concealed. * j. a. i., xvi. p. , . mr. manning, who prejudices his own case by speaking of boyma as "the almighty," next introduces us to a "son of god" equal to the father as touching his omniscience, and otherwise but slightly inferior. mr. eyre had already reported on the unborn sons of noorele, "there is no mother". the son of boyma's name is grogoragally. he watches over conduct, and takes the good to ballima (bullimah in mrs. langloh parker), the bad to oorooma, the place of fire (gumby). mr. eyre had attested similar ideas of future life of the souls with noorele. (eyre, ii. .) in mrs. langloh parker's book a messenger is called "the all-seeing spirit," apparently identical with her wallahgooroonbooan, whose voice is heard in the noise of the _tundun_, or bull-roarer, used in the mysteries.* * more legendary tales, p. . grogoragally is unborn of any mother. he is represented by mr. manning as a mediator between boyma and the race of men. here our belief is apt to break down, and most people will think that black andy was a well-instructed christian catechumen. this occurred to mr. manning, who put it plainly to andy. he replied that the existence of names in the native language for the sacred persons and places proved that they were not of european origin. "white fellow no call budgery place (paradise) 'ballima,' or other place 'oorooma,' nor god 'boyma,' nor son 'grogoragally,' only we black fellow think and call them that way in our own language, before white fellow came into the country." a son or deputy of the chief divine being is, in fact, found among the kurnai and in other tribes. he directs the mysteries. here, then, andy is backed by mr. howitt's aboriginal friends. their deity sanctioned morality "before the white men came to melbourne" ( ) and was called "our father" at the same date.* several old men insisted on this, as a matter of their own knowledge. they were initiated before the arrival of europeans. archdeacon gunther received the same statements from old aborigines, and mr. palmer, speaking of other notions of tribes of the north, is perfectly satisfied that none of their ideas were derived from the whites.** in any case, black andy's intelligence and logic are far beyond what most persons attribute to his race. if we disbelieve him, it must be on the score, i think, that he consciously added european ideas to names of native origin. on the other hand, analogous ideas, not made so startling as in mr. manning's christian terminology, are found in many parts of australia. * j. a., xiii. p. , , ** op. cit., p. . mr. manning next cites moodgeegally, the first man, immortal, a culture hero, and a messenger of boyma's. there are a kind of rather mediaeval fiends, waramolong, who punish the wicked (murderers, liars and breakers of marriage laws) in gumby. women do not go to ballima, boyma being celibate, and women know nothing of all these mysteries; certainly this secrecy is not an idea of christian origin. if women get at the secret, the whole race must be exterminated, men going mad and slaying each other. this notion we shall see is corroborated. but if missionaries taught the ideas, women must know all about them already. mr. manning's information was confirmed by a black from miles away, who called grogoragally by the name of boymagela. there are no prayers, except for the dead at burial: corroborated by mrs. langloh parker's beautiful legend of eerin. "byamee," the mourners cry, "let in the spirit of eerin to bullimah. save him from eleanbah wundah, abode of the wicked. for eerin was faithful on earth, faithful to the laws you left us!"* the creed is taught to boys when initiated, with a hymn which mr. manning's informant dared not to reveal. he said angrily that mr. manning already knew more than any other white man. now, to invent a hymn could not have been beyond the powers of this remarkable savage, black andy. the "sons" of baiame answer, we have seen, to those ascribed to noorele, in mr. eyre's book. they also correspond to daramulun where he is regarded as the son of baiame, while the culture hero, moodgeegally, founder of the mysteries, answers to tundun, among the kurnai.** we have, too, in australia, dawed, a subordinate where mangarrah is the maker in the larrakeah tribe.*** * more australian tales, p. . ** howitt, j. a. /., , p. . *** j. a. i., nov., , p. . in some cases, responsibility for evil, pain, and punishment, are shifted from the good maker on to the shoulders of his subordinate. this is the case, in early virginia, with okeus, the subordinate of the creator, the good ahone.* we have also, in west africa, the unpropitiated nyankupon, with his active subordinate, who has human sacrifices, bobowissi;** and mulungu, in central africa, "possesses many powerful servants, but is himself kept a good deal behind the scenes of earthly affairs, like the gods of epicurus".*** the analogy, as to the son, interpreter of the divine will, in apollo and zeus (certainly not of christian origin!) is worth observing. in the andaman islands, mr. mann, after long and minute inquiry from the previously un-contaminated natives, reports on an only son of puluga, "a sort of archangel," who alone is permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to make known to the _moro-win_, his sisters, ministers of puluga, the angels, that is, inferior ministers of puluga's will.**** * william strachey, hakluyt society, chapter vii., date, . ** ellis, religion of the tshi-speaking races. *** macdonald, africana, vol. i. p. . ****j. a. i., xii. p. . it is for science to determine how far this startling idea of the son is a natural result of a desire to preserve the remote and somewhat inaccessible and otiose dignity of the supreme being from the exertion of activity; and how far it is a savage refraction of missionary teaching, even where it seems to be anterior to missionary influences, which, with these races, have been almost a complete failure. the subject abounds in difficulty, but the sceptic must account for the marvellously rapid acceptance of the european ideas by the most conservative savage class, the doctors or sorcerers; for the admission of the ideas into the most conservative of savage institutions, the mysteries; for the extreme reticence about the ideas in presence of the very europeans from whom they are said to have been derived; and in some cases for the concealment of the ideas from the women, who, one presumes, are as open as the men to missionary teaching. it is very easy to talk of "borrowing," not so easy to explain these points on the borrowing theory, above all, when evidence is frequent that the ideas preceded the arrival of christian teachers. on this crucial point, the question of borrowing, i may cite mr. mann as to the andamanese beliefs. mr. mann was for eleven years in the islands, and for four years superintended our efforts to "reclaim" some natives. he is well acquainted with the south andaman dialect, and has made studies of the other forms of the language. this excellent witness writes: "it is extremely improbable that their legends were the result of the teaching of missionaries or others". they have no tradition of any foreign arrivals, and their reputation (undeserved) as cannibals, with their ferocity to invaders, "precludes the belief" that any one ever settled there to convert or instruct them. "moreover, to regard with suspicion, as some have done, the genuineness of such legends argues ignorance of the fact that numerous other tribes, in equally remote or isolated localities, have, when first discovered, been found to possess similar traditions on the subject under consideration," further, "i have taken special care not only to obtain my information on each point from those who are considered by their fellow tribesmen as authorities, but [also from those] who, from having had little or no intercourse with other races, were in entire ignorance regarding any save their own legends," which, "they all agree in stating, were handed down to them by their first parent, to-mo, and his immediate descendants".* what mr. mann says concerning the unborrowed character of andaman beliefs applies, of course, to the yet more remote and inaccessible natives of australia. in what has been, and in what remains to be said, it must be remembered that the higher religious ideas attributed to the australians are not their only ideas in this matter. examples of their wild myths have already been offered, they are totemists, too, and fear, though they do not propitiate, ghosts. vague spirits unattached are also held in dread, and inspire sorcerers and poets,** as also does the god bunjil.*** * j. a. i., xii. pp. , . ** ibid.y xvi., pp. , . on bunjil. *** in folk-lore, december, , will be found an essay, mr. hartland, on my account of australian gods. instancing many wild or comic myths (some of them unknown to me when i wrote 'the making of religion'), mr. hartland seems to argue that these destroy the sacredness of other coexisting native beliefs of a higher kind. but, on this theory, what religion is sacred? all have contradictory myths. see introduction. turning from early accounts of australian religion, say from to , we look at the more recent reports. the best evidence is that of mr. howitt, who, with mr. fison, laid the foundations of serious australian anthropology in _kamilaroi and kurnai_ ( ). in , mr. howitt, though long and intimately familiar with the tribes of gippsland, the yarra, the upper murray, the murumbidgee, and other districts, had found no trace of belief in a moral supreme being. he was afterwards, however, initiated, or less formally let into the secret, by two members of brajerak (wild) black fellows, not of the same tribe as the kurnai. the rites of these former aborigines are called kuringal. their supreme being is daramulun "believed in from the sea-coast across to the northern boundary claimed by the wolgal, about yass and gundagai, and from omeo to at least as far as the shoalhaven river.... he was not, as it seems to me, everywhere thought to be a malevolent being, but he was dreaded as one who could severely punish the trespasses committed against these tribal ordinances and customs, whose first institution is ascribed to him.... it was taught also that daramulun himself watched the youths from the sky, prompt to punish by sickness or death the breach of his ordinances." these are often mere taboos; an old man said: "i could not eat emu's eggs. _he_ would be very angry, and perhaps i should die." it will hardly be argued that the savages have recently borrowed from missionaries this conception of daramulun, as the originator and guardian of tribal taboos. opponents must admit him as of native evolution in that character at least. the creed of daramulun is not communicated to women and children. "it is said that the women among the ngarego and wolgal knew only that a great being lived beyond the sky, and that he was spoken of by them as papang (father). this seemed to me when i first heard it to bear so suspicious a resemblance to a belief derived from the white men, that i thought it necessary to make careful and repeated inquiries. my ngarego and wolgal informants, two of them old men, strenuously maintained that it was so before the white men came." they themselves only learned the doctrine when initiated, as boys, by the old men of that distant day. the name daramulun, was almost whispered to mr. howitt, and phrases were used such as "he," "the man," "the name i told you of". the same secrecy was preserved by a woi-worung man about bunjil, or pund-jel, "though he did not show so much reluctance when repeating to me the 'folk-lore' in which the 'great spirit' of the kulin plays a part". "he" was used, or gesture signs were employed by this witness, who told how his grandfather had warned him that bunjil watched his conduct from a star, "he can see you and all you do down here,"--"before the white men came to melbourne." ( ).* * j. a. i.f xiii, , pp. , . are we to believe that this mystic secrecy is kept up, as regards white men, about a being first heard of from white men? and is it credible that the "old men," the holders of tribal traditions, and the most conservative of mortals, would borrow a new divinity from "the white devils," conceal the doctrine from the women (as accessible to missionary teaching as themselves), adopt the new being as the founder of the antique mysteries, and introduce him into the central rite? and can the natives have done so steadily, ever since about at least? to believe all this is to illustrate the credulity of scepticism. mr. howitt adds facts about tribes "from twofold bay to sydney, and as far west, at least, as hay". here, too, daramulun instituted the rites; his voice is heard in the noise of the whirling _mudji_ (bull-roarer). "the muttering of thunder is said to be his voice 'calling to the rain to fall, and make the grass grow up green'." such are "the very words of umbara, the minstrel of the tribe".* at the rites, respect for age, for truth, for unprotected women and married women, and other details of sexual morality, is inculcated partly in obscene dances. a magic ceremony, resembling mesmeric passes, and accompanied by the word "good" (_nga_) is meant to make the boys acceptable to daramulun. a temporary image of him is made on raised earth (to be destroyed after the rites), his attributes are then explained. "this is the master (biamban) who can go anywhere and do anything."** an old man is buried, and rises again. "this ceremony is most impressive." "the opportunity is taken of impressing on the mind of youth, in an indelible manner, those rules of conduct which form the moral law of the tribe." "there is clearly a belief in a great spirit, or rather an anthropomorphic supernatural being, the master of all, whose abode is above, the sky, and to whom are attributed powers of omnipotence and omnipresence, or, at any rate, the power to do anything and go anywhere.... to his direct ordinance are attributed the social and moral laws of the community." mr. howitt ends, "i venture to assert that it can no longer be maintained that [the australians] have no belief which can be called religious--that is, in the sense of beliefs which govern tribal and individual morality under a supernatural sanction".*** * j. a. i., , p. . ** op. cit., p. . *** j. a. i., , p. . among the rites is one which "is said to be intended to teach the boys to speak the straightforward truth, and the kabos (mystagogues) thus explain it to them ".* it is, perhaps, unfortunate that mr. howitt does not give a full account of what the morality thus sanctioned includes. respect for age, for truth, for unprotected women, and for nature (as regards avoiding certain unnatural vices) are alone spoken of, in addition to taboos which have no relation to developed morality. mr. palmer, in speaking of the morality inculcated in the mysteries of the northern australians, adds to the elements of ethics mentioned by mr. howitt in the south, the lesson "not to be quarrelsome". to each lad is given, "by one of the elders, advice so kindly, fatherly and impressive, as often to soften the heart, and draw tears from the youth".** * j. a. ., xiii. . ** ibid., xlii . so far, the morality religiously sanctioned is such as men are likely to evolve, and probably no one will maintain that it must have been borrowed from europeans. it is argued that the morality is only such as the tribes would naturally develop, mainly in the interests of the old (the ruling class) and of social order (hart-land, _op. cit_. pp. - ). what else did any one ever suppose the _mores_ of a people to be, _plus_ whatever may be allowed for the effects of kindliness, or love, which certainly exists? i never hinted at morals divinely and supernormally revealed. all morality had been denied to the australians. yet in the religious rites they are "taught to speak the straightforward truth"! as regards women, there are parts of australia where disgusting laxity prevails, except in cases prohibited by the extremely complex rules of forbidden degrees. such parts are central australia and north-west central queensland.* another point in mr. howitt's evidence deserves notice. he at first wrote "the supreme being who is believed in by all the tribes i refer to here, either as a benevolent or more frequently as a malevolent being, it seems to me represents the defunct headman ". we have seen that mr. howitt came to regard "malevolence" as merely the punitive aspect of the "supreme being ". as to the theory that such a being represents a dead headman, no proof is anywhere given that ghosts of headmen are in any way propitiated. even "corpse-feeding" was represented to mr. dawson by intelligent old blacks, as "white fellows' gammon".** mrs. langloh parker writes to me that she, when she began to study the blacks, "had, i must allow, a prejudice in favour of mr. herbert spencer's theory--it seemed so rational, but, accepting my savages' evidence, i must discard it". as to "offerings of food to the dead," mrs. langloh parker found that nothing was offered except food "which happened to be in the possession of the corpse," at his decease. for these reasons it is almost inconceivable that the "supreme being" should "represent a dead headman," as to dead men of any sort no tribute is paid. mr. howitt himself appears to have abandoned the hypothesis that daramulun represents a dead headman, for he speaks of him as the "great spirit," or rather an "anthropomorphic supernatural being",*** * spencer and gillen, and roth. ** dawson, aborigines of australia. *** j. a. i., , p. . a great spirit might, conceivably, be developed out of a little spirit, even out of the ghost of a tribesman. but to the conception of a "supernatural anthropomorphic being," the idea of "spirit" is not necessary. men might imagine such an entity before they had ever dreamed of a ghost. having been initiated into the secrets of one set of tribes, mr. howitt was enabled to procure admission to those of another group of "clans," the kurnai. for twenty-five years the jeraeil, or mystery, had been in abeyance, for they are much in contact with europeans. the old men, however, declared that they exactly reproduced (with one confessed addition) the ancestral ceremonies. they were glad to do it, for their lads "now paid no attention either to the words of the old men, or to those of the missionaries".* *j. a. i., , p. . this is just what usually occurs. when we meet a savage tribe we destroy the old bases of its morality and substitute nothing new of our own. "they pay no attention to the words of the missionaries," but loaf, drink and gamble like station hands "knocking down a cheque ". consequently a rite unknown before the arrival of europeans is now introduced at the jeraeil. swift would have been delighted by this ceremony. "it was thought that the boys, having lived so much among the whites, had become selfish and no longer willing to share that which they obtained by their own exertions, or had given to them, with their friends." the boys were, therefore, placed in a row, and the initiator or mystagogue stooped over the first boy, and, muttering some words which i could not catch, he kneaded the lad's stomach with his hands. this he did to each one successively, and by it the kurnai supposed the "greediness" (------) "of the youth would be expelled".* * op. cit., pp. , . so far from unselfishness being a doctrine borrowed by the kurnai from christians, and introduced into their rites, it is (as we saw in the case of the arunta of central australia) part of the traditional morality--"the good old ancestral virtues," says mr. howitt--of the tribes. a special ceremony is needed before unselfishness can be inspired among blacks who have lived much among adherents of the gospel. thus "one satiric touch" seems to demonstrate that the native ethics are not of missionary origin. after overcoming the scruples of the old men by proving that he really was initiated in the kuringal, mr. howitt was admitted to the central rite of the kurnai "showing the grandfather". the essence of it is that the _mystae_ have their heads shrouded in blankets. these are snatched off, the initiator points solemnly to the sky with his throwing stick (which propels the spears) and then points to the tundun, or bull-roarer. this object (------) was also used in the mysteries of ancient greece, and is still familiar in the rites of savages in all quarters of the world. "the ancestral beliefs" are then solemnly revealed. it seems desirable to quote freely the "condensed" version of mr. howitt. "long ago there was a great being called mungan-ngaur." here a note adds that mungan means "father," and "ngaur" means "our". "he has no other name among the kurnai. in other tribes the great supreme being, besides being called 'father,' has a name, for example bunjil, baiame, daramulun." "this being lived on the earth, and taught the kurnai... all the arts they know. he also gave them the names they bear. mungan-gnaur had a son" (the sonship doctrine already noticed by mr. manning) "named tundun (the bull-roarer), who was married, and who is the direct ancestor--the weintwin or father's father--of the kurnai. mungan-ngaur instituted the jeraeil (mysteries) which was conducted by tundun, who made the instruments" (a large and a small bull-roarer, as also in queensland) "which bear the name of himself and his wife. "some tribal traitor impiously revealed the secrets of the jeraeil to women, and thereby brought down the anger of mungan upon the kurnai. he sent fire which filled the wide space between earth and sky. men went mad, and speared one another, fathers killing their children, husbands their wives, and brethren each other." this corroborates black andy. "then the sea rushed over the land, and nearly all mankind were drowned. those who survived became the ancestors of the kurnai.... tundun and his wife became porpoises" (as apollo in the homeric hymn became a dolphin), "mungan left the earth, and ascended to the sky, where he still remains."* * op. cit., pp. , . here the son is credited with none of the mediatorial attributes in mr. manning's version, but universal massacre, as a consequence of revealing the esoteric doctrine, is common to both accounts. morals are later inculcated. . "to listen to and obey the old men. . "to share everything they have with their friends. . "to live peaceably with their friends. . "not to interfere with girls or married women. . "to obey the food restrictions until they are released from them by the old men." [as at eleusis.] these doctrines, and the whole belief in mungan-ngaur, "the kurnai carefully concealed from me," says mr. howitt, "until i learned them at the jeraeil".* mr. howitt now admits, in so many words, that mungan-ngaur "is rather the beneficent father, and the kindly though severe headman of the whole tribe.... than the malevolent wizard".... he considers it "perhaps indicative of great antiquity, that this identical belief forms part of the central mysteries of a tribe so isolated as the kurnai, as well as of those of the tribes which had free communication one with another". as the morals sanctioned by mungan-ngaur are simply the extant tribal morals (of which unselfishness is a part, as in central australia), there seems no reason to attribute them to missionaries--who are quite unheeded. this part of the evidence may close with a statement of mr. howitt's: "beyond the vaulted sky lies the mysterious home of that great and powerful being who is bunjil, baiame, or dara-mulun in different tribal languages, but who in all is known by a name, the equivalent of the only one used by the kurnai, which is mungan-ngaur, our father".** * op. cit. , note ** j. a. i., xvi. . other affirmative evidence might be adduced. mr. ridley, who wrote primers in the kamilaroi language as early as in (using baiame for god), says: "in every part of australia where i have conversed with the aborigines, they have a traditional belief in one supreme creator," and he wonders, as he well may, at the statement to the contrary in the _encyclopedia britannica_, which rests solely on the authority, of dr. lang, in queensland. of names for the supreme being, mr. ridley gives baiame, anamba; in queensland, mumbal (thunder) and, at twofold bay, "dhu-rumbulum, which signifies, in the namoi, a sacred staff, originally given by baiame, and is used as the title of deity".* by "staff" mr. ridley appears to indicate the tundun, or bull-roarer. this i venture to infer from mr. matthews' account of the wiradthuri (new south wales) with whom dhuramoolan is an extinct bugbear, not answering to tundun among the kurnai, who is subordinate, as son, to mungan-ngaur, and is associated with the mystic bull-roarer, as is gayandi, the voice of the messenger of baiame, among mrs. langloh parker's informants.** in one tribe, dara-mulun used to carry off and eat the initiated boys, till he was stopped and destroyed by baiame. this myth can hardly exist, one may suppose, among such tribes as consider daramulun to preside over the mysteries. * j. a. i., ii. ( ), , . ** ibid., xxv. . living in contact with the baiame-worshipping kamilaroi, the wiradthuri appear to make a jest of the power of daramulun, who (we have learned) is said to have died, while his "spirit" dwells on high.* mr. green way also finds turramulan to be subordinate to baiame, who "sees all, and knows all, if not directly, through turramulan, who presides at the bora.... turramulan is mediator in all the operations of baiame upon man, and in all man's transactions with baiame. turramulan means "leg on one side only," "one-legged". here the mediatorial aspect corroborates mr. manning's information.** i would suggest, _periculo meo_, that there may have been some syncretism, a baiame-worshipping tribe adopting daramulun as a subordinate and mediator; or baiame may have ousted daramulun, as zeus did cronos. mr. ridley goes on to observe that about eighteen years ago (that is, in ) he asked intelligent blacks "if they knew baiame". the answer was: "kamil zaia zummi baiame, zaia winuzgulda," "i have not seen baiame, i have heard or perceived him". the same identical answer was given in "by a man to whom i had never before spoken". "if asked who made the sky, the earth, the animals and man, they always answer 'baiame'." varieties of opinion as to a future life exist. all go to baiame, or only the good (the bad dying eternally), or they change into birds!*** * j. a. i., xii. . ** ibid., vii. . *** ibid., ii. . turning to north-west central queensland we find dr. roth (who knows the language and is partly initiated) giving mul-ka-ri as "a benevolent, omnipresent, supernatural being. anything incomprehensible." he offers a sentence: "mulkari tikkara ena" = "lord (who dwellest) among the sky". again: "mulkari is the supernatural power who makes everything which the blacks cannot otherwise account for; he is a good, beneficent person, and never kills any one". he initiates medicine men. his home is in the skies. he once lived on earth, and there was a culture-hero, inventing magic and spells. that mulkari is an ancestral ghost as well as a beneficent maker i deem unlikely, as no honours are paid to the dead. "not in any way to refer to the dead appears to be an universal rule among all these tribes."* mulkari has a malignant opposite or counterpart. nothing is said by dr. roth as to inculcation of these doctrines at the mysteries, nor do messrs. spencer and gillen allude to any such being in their accounts of central australian rites, if we except the "self-existing" "out of nothing" ungambikula, sky-dwellers. one rite "is supposed to make the men who pass through it more kindly," we are not told why.** we have also an allusion to "the great spirit twangirika," whose voice (the women are told) is heard in the noise of the bull-roarer.*** * roth, pp. , , , , , . ** spencer and gillen, p. . *** ibid., p. . "the belief is fundamentally the same as that found in all australian tribes," write the authors, in a note citing tundun and daramulun. but they do not tell us whether the arunta belief includes the sanction, by twangirika, of morality. if it does not, have the central australians never developed the idea, or have they lost it? they have had quite as much experience of white men (or rather much more) than the believers in baiame or bunjil, "before the white men came to melbourne," and, if one set of tribes borrowed ideas from whites, why did not the other? the evidence here collected is not exhaustive. we might refer to pirnmeheal, a good being, whom the blacks loved before they were taught by missionaries to fear him.* * dawson, the australian aborigines. mr. dawson took all conceivable pains to get authentic information, and to ascertain whether the belief in pirnmeheal was pre-european. he thinks it was original. the idea of "god-borrowing" is repudiated by manning, gunther, ridley, green-way, palmer, mrs. langloh parker and others, speaking for trained observers and (in several cases) for linguists, studying the natives on the spot, since . it is thought highly improbable by mr. hale ( ). it is rejected by waitz-gerland, speaking for studious science in europe. mr. howitt, beginning with distrust, seems now to regard the beliefs described as of native origin. on the other hand we have mr. mann, who has been cited, and the great authority of mr. e. b. tylor, who, however, has still to reply to the arguments in favour of the native origin of the beliefs which i have ventured to offer. such arguments are the occurrence of baiame before the arrival of missionaries; the secrecy, as regards europeans, about ideas derived (mr. tylor thinks) from europeans; the ignorance of the women on these heads; the notorious conservatism of the "doctors" who promulgate the creed as to ritual and dogma, and the other considerations which have been fully stated. in the meanwhile i venture to think, subject to correction, that, while black andy may have exaggerated, or mr. manning may have coloured his evidence by christian terminology, and while mythical accretions on a religious belief are numerous, yet the lowest known human race has attained a religious conception very far above what savages are usually credited with, and has not done so by way of the "ghost-theory" of the anthropologists. in this creed sacrifice and ghost-worship are absent.* it has seemed worth while to devote space and attention to the australian beliefs, because the vast continent contains the most archaic and backward of existing races. we may not yet have a sufficient collection of facts microscopically criticised, but the evidence here presented seems deserving of attention. about the still more archaic but extinct tasmanians and their religion, evidence is too scanty, too casual, and too conflicting for our purpose.** * these australian gods are confusing. . daramulun is supreme among the coast murring. j. a. i., ziv. - . . baiame is supreme, daramulun is an extinct bugbear, among the wiradthuri. j. a. i., xxv. . . baiame is supreme, daramulun is "mediator," among the kamilaroi. j. a. i., vii. . ** see ling roth's _tasmanians_. chapter xiii. gods of the lowest races. bushmen gods--cagn, the grasshopper?--hottentot gods--"wounded knee," a dead sorcerer--melanesian gods--qat and the spider --aht and maori beasts-gods and men-gods--samoan form of animal-gods--one god incarnate in many animal shapes--one for each clan--they punish the eating of certain animals. passing from australia to africa, we find few races less advanced than the bushmen (_sa-n_, "settlers," in nama). whatever view may be taken of the past history of the bushmen of south africa, it is certain that at present they are a race on a very low level of development. "even the hottentots," according to dr. bleek, "exceed the bushmen in civilisation and political organisation".* * see waitz, anthrop. nat. volk, ii. - . before investigating the religious myths of the bushmen, it must be repeated that, as usual, their religion is on a far higher level than their mythology. the conception of invisible or extra-natural powers, which they entertain and express in moments of earnest need, is all unlike the tales which they tell about their own. our main authorities at present for bushman myths are contained in a brief account of bushman folk-lore, bleek, london, ; and in a glimpse into the mythology of the maluti bushmen, by mr. orpen, chief magistrate, st. john's territory, cape monthly magazine, july, . some information may also be gleaned from the south african folk-lore journal, - , gods, if gods such mythical beings may be called. thus livingstone says: "on questioning intelligent men among the bakwains as to their former knowledge of good and evil, of god and the future state, they have scouted the idea of any of them ever having been without a tolerably clear conception on all these subjects".* their ideas of sin were the same as livingstone's, except about polygamy, and apparently murder. probably there were other trifling discrepancies. but "they spoke in the same way of the direct influence exercised by god in giving rain in answer to the prayers of the rain-makers, and in granting deliverance in times of danger, as they do now, before they ever heard of white men ". this was to be expected. in short, the religion of savages, in its childlike and hopeful dependence on an invisible friend or friends, in its hope of moving him (or them) by prayer, in its belief that he (or they) "make for righteousness," is absolutely human. on the other side, as in the myths of greece or india, stand the absurd and profane anecdotes of the gods. * missionary travels, p. . we now turn to a bushman's account of the religious myths of his tribe. shortly after the affair of langa-libalele, mr. orpen had occasion to examine an unknown part of the maluti range, the highest mountains in south africa. he engaged a scout named qing, son of a chief of an almost exterminated clan of hill bushmen. he was now huntsman to king nqusha, morosi's son, on the orange river, and _had never seen a white man, except fighting_. thus qing's evidence could not be much affected by european communications. mr. orpen secured the services of qing, who was a young man and a mighty hunter. by inviting him to explain the wall-pictures in caves, mr. orpen led him on to give an account of cagn, the chief mythical being in bushman religion. "cagn made all things, and we pray to him," said qing. "at first he was very good and nice, but he got spoilt through fighting so many things." "the prayer uttered by qing, 'in a low imploring voice,' ran thus: 'o cagn, o cagn, are we not your children? do you not see our hunger? give us food.'" where cagn is qing did not know, "but the elands know. have you not hunted and heard his cry when the elands suddenly run to his call?"* now comes in myth. cagn has a wife called coti. "how came he into the world? perhaps with those who brought the sun;... only the initiated men of that dance know these things."** * another bushman prayer, a touching appeal, is given in alexander's expedition, ii. , and a khoi-khoi hymn of prayer is in hahn, pp. , . ** cf. custom and myth, pp. , . it appears that the bushmen, like the egyptians and greeks, hand down myths through esoteric societies, with dramatic mysteries. cagn had two sons, cogaz and gcwi. he and they were "great chiefs," but used stone-pointed digging sticks to grub up edible roots! cagn's wife brought forth a fawn, and, like cronus when rhea presented him with a foal, cagn was put to it to know the nature and future fortunes of this child of his. to penetrate the future he employed the ordinary native charms and sorcery. the remainder of the myth accounts for the origin of elands and for their inconvenient wildness. a daughter of cagn's married "snakes who were also men," the eternal confusion of savage thought. these snakes became the people of cagn. cagn had a tooth which was "great medicine"; his force resided in it, and he lent it to people whom he favoured. the birds (as in odin's case) were his messengers, and brought him news of all that happened at a distance.* * compare with the separable vigour of cagn, residing in his tooth, the european and egyptian examples of a similar myth--the lock of hair of minos, the hair of samson--in introduction to mrs. hunt's grimm's household stories, p. lxxv. he could turn his sandals and clubs into dogs, and set them at his enemies. the baboons were once men, but they offended cagn, and sang a song with the burden, "cagn thinks he is clever"; so he drove them into desolate places, and they are accursed till this day. his strong point was his collection of charms, which, like other bushmen and hottentots, he kept "in his belt". he could, and did, assume animal shapes; for example, that of a bull-eland. the thorns were once people, and killed cagn, and the ants ate him, but his bones were collected and he was revived. it was formerly said that when men died they went to cagn, but it has been denied by later bushmen sceptics. such is qing's account of cagn, and cagn in myth is plainly but a successful and idealised medicine-man whose charms actually work. dr. bleek identifies his name with that of the mantis insect. this insect is the chief mythological personage of the bushmen of the western province. kággen his name is written. dr. bleek knew of no prayer to the mantis, but was acquainted with addresses to the sun, moon and stars. if dr. bleek's identification is correct, the cagn of qing is at once human and a sort of grasshopper, just as pund-jel was half human, half eagle-hawk. "the most prominent of the mythological figures," says dr. bleek, speaking of the bushmen, "is the mantis." his proper name is kaggen, but if we call him cagn, the interests of science will not seriously suffer. his wife is the "dasse hyrax". their adopted daughter is the porcupine, daughter of _khwdi hemm_, the all-devourer. like cronus, and many other mythological persons, the all-devourer has the knack of swallowing all and sundry, and disgorging them alive. dr. bleek offers us but a wandering and disjointed account of the mantis or cagn, who is frequently defeated by other animals, such as the suricat. cagn has one point at least in common with zeus. as zeus was swallowed and disgorged by cronus, so was cagn by _khwái hemm_. as indra once entered into the body of a cow, so did cagn enter into the body of an elephant. dr. bleek did not find that the mantis was prayed to, as cagn was by qing. the moon (like sun and stars) is, however, prayed to, and "the moon belongs to the mantis," who, indeed, made it out of his old shoe! the chameleon is prayed to for rain on occasion, and successfully. the peculiarity of bushman mythology is the almost absolute predominance of animals. except "an old woman," who appears now and then in these incoherent legends, their myths have scarcely one human figure to show. now, whether the bushmen be deeply degenerate from a past civilisation or not, it is certain that their myths are based on their actual condition of thought, unless we prefer to say that their intellectual condition is derived from their myths. we have already derived the constant presence and personal action of animals in myth from that savage condition of the mind in which "all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason" (chap. iii.). now, there can be no doubt that, whether the bushman mind has descended to this stage or not, in this stage it actually dwells at present. as examples we may select the following from dr. bleek's _bushman folk-lore_. _díalkwáin_ told how the death of his own wife was "foretold by the springbok and the gems-bok". again, for examples of living belief in community of nature with animals, dialkwain mentioned an old woman, a relation, and friend of his own, who had the power "of turning herself into a lioness". another bushman, kabbo, retaining, doubtless, his wide-awake mental condition in his sleep, "dreamed of lions which talked". another informant explained that lions talk like men "by putting their tails in their mouth". this would have pleased sydney smith, who thought that "if lions would meet and growl out their observations to each other," they might sensibly improve in culture. again, "all things that belong to the mantis can talk," and most things do belong to that famous being. in "news from zululand,"* in a myth of the battle of isandlwana, a blue-buck turns into a young man and attacks the british. * folk-lore journal of south africa, i. iv. . these and other examples demonstrate that the belief in the personal and human character and attributes of animals still prevails in south africa. from that living belief we derive the personal and human character and attributes of animals, which, remarkable in all mythologies, is perhaps specially prominent in the myths of the bushmen. though bushman myth is only known to us in its outlines, and is apparently gifted with even more than the due quantity of incoherence, it is perhaps plain that animals are the chief figures in this african lore, and that these bushmen gods, if ever further developed, will retain many traces of their animal ancestry. from the bushmen we may turn to their near neighbours, the hottentots or khoi-khoi. their religious myths have been closely examined in dr. hahn's _tsuni goam, the supreme being of the khoi-khoi_. though dr. hahn's conclusions as to the origin of hottentot myth differ entirely from our own, his collection and critical study of materials, of oral traditions, and of the records left by old travellers are invaluable. the early european settlers at the cape found the khoi-khoi, that is, "the men," a yellowish race of people, who possessed large herds of cattle, sheep and goats.* the khoi-khoi, as nomad cattle and sheep farmers, are on a much higher level of culture than the bushmen, who are hunters.** * op. cit. i. pp. , . ** ibid., p. . the languages of the two peoples leave "no more doubt as to their primitive relationship" (p. ). the wealth of the khoi-khoi was considerable and unequally distributed, a respectable proof of nascent civilisation. the rich man was called _gou, aob_, that is "fat". in the same way the early greeks called the wealthy "(------------)".* as the rich man could afford many wives (which gives him a kind of "commendation" over men to whom he allots his daughters), he "gradually rose to the station of a chief".** in domestic relations, khoi-khoi society is "matriarchal" (pp. - ).*** * herodotus, v. . ** op. cit., p. . *** but speaking of the wife, kolb calls "the poor wretch" a "drudge, exposed to the insults of her children",--english transl., p. . all the sons are called after the mother, the daughters after the father. among the arts, pottery and mat-making, metallurgy and tool-making are of ancient date. a past stone age is indicated by the use of quartz knives in sacrifice and circumcision. in khoi-khoi society seers and prophets were "the greatest and most respected old men of the clan" (p. ). the khoi-khoi of to-day have adopted a number of indo-european beliefs and customs, and "the christian ideas introduced by missionaries have amalgamated... with the national religious ideas and mythologies," for which reasons dr, hahn omits many legends which, though possibly genuine, might seem imported (pp. , ). a brief historical abstract of what was known to old travellers of khoi-khoi religion must now be compiled from the work of dr. hahn. in corporal müller found adoration paid to great stones on the side of the paths. the worshippers pointed upwards and said _hette hie_, probably "heitsi eibib," the name of a khoi-khoi extra-natural being. it appears (p. ) that heitsi eibib "has changed names" in parts of south africa, and what was his worship is now offered "to |garubeb, or tsui |goab". in dapper found that the khoi-khoi "believe there is one who sends rain on earth;... they also believe that they themselves can make rain and prevent the wind from blowing". worship of the moon and of "erected stones" is also noticed. in nicolas witsen heard that the khoi-khoi adored a god which dr. hahn (p. ) supposes to have been "a peculiar-shaped stone-fetish," such as the basutos worship and spit at. witsen found that the "god" was daubed with red earth, like the dionysi in greece. about valentyn gathered that the people believed in "a great chief who dwells on high," and a devil; "but in carefully examining this, it is nothing else but their _somsomas_ and _spectres_" (p. ). we need not accept that opinion. the worship of a "great chief" is mentioned again in . in peter kolb, the german magister, published his account of the hottentots, which has been done into english.* kolb gives gounja gounja, or gounja ticqvoa, as the divine name; "they say he is a good man, who does nobody any hurt,... and that he dwells far above the moon ".** this corresponds to the australian pirnmeheal. kolb also noted propitiation of an evil power. he observed that the khoi-khoi worship the mantis insect, which, as we have seen, is the chief mythical character among the bushmen.*** * second edition, london, . ** engl. transl., . *** engl, transl., i. , gives a picture of khoi-khoi adoring the mantis. dr. hahn remarks, "strangely enough the namaquas also call it |gaunab, as they call the enemy of tsui |goab".* in kolb's time, as now, the rites of the khoi (except, apparently, their worship at dawn) were performed beside cairns of stones. if we may credit kolb, the khoi-khoi are not only most fanatical adorers of the mantis, but "pay a religious veneration to their saints and men of renown departed". thunberg ( ) noticed cairn-worship and heard of mantis-worship. in lichtenstein saw cairn-worship. with the beginning of the present century we find in apple-yard, ebner and others khoi-khoi names for a god, which are translated "sore-knee" or "wounded-knee ". this title is explained as originally the name of a "doctor or sorcerer" of repute, "invoked even after death," and finally converted into a deity. his enemy is gaunab, an evil being, and he is worshipped at the cairns, below which he is believed to be buried.** about knudsen considered that the khoi-khoi believed in a dead medicine-man, heitsi eibib, who could make rivers roll back their waves, and then walk over safely, as in the _märchen_ of most peoples. he was also, like odin, a "shape-shifter," and he died several times and came to life again.*** * page ; compare pp. , . ** alexander, expedition, i ; hahn, op. cit., pp. , , where moffat is quoted. *** hahn, p. . thus the numerous graves of heitsi eibib are explained by his numerous deaths. in egypt the numerous graves of osiris were explained by the story that he was mutilated, and each limb buried in a different place. probably both the hottentot and the egyptian legend were invented to account for the many worshipped cairns attributed to the same corpse. we now reach the myths of heitsi eibib and tsui |goab collected by dr. hahn himself. according to the evidence of dr. hahn's own eyes, the working religion of the khoi-khoi is "a firm belief in sorcery and the arts of living medicine-men on the one hand, and, on the other, belief in and adoration of the powers of the dead" (pp. , , , ). our author tells us that he met in the wilds a woman of the "fat" or wealthy class going to pray at the grave and to the manes of her own father. "we khoi-khoi always, if we are in trouble, go and pray at the graves of our grandparents and ancestors." they also sing rude epic verses, accompanied by the dance in honour of men distinguished in the late namaqua and damara war. now it is alleged by dr. hahn that prayers are offered at the graves of heitsi eibib and tsui goab, as at those of ancestors lately dead, and heitsi eibib and tsui goab within living memory were honoured by song and dance, exactly like the braves of the damara war. the obvious and natural inference is that heitsi eibib and tsui goab were and are regarded by their worshippers as departed but still helpful ancestral warriors or medicine-men. we need not hold that they ever were actual living men; they may be merely idealised figures of khoi-khoi wisdom and valour. here, as elsewhere, animism, ghost-worship, is potent, and, in proportion, theism declines. here dr. hahn offers a different explanation, founded on etymological conjecture and a philosophy of religion. according to him, the name of tsui goab originally meant, not wounded knee, but red dawn. the dawn was worshipped as a symbol or suggestion of the infinite, and only by forgetfulness and false interpretation of the original word did the khoi-khoi fall from a kind of pure theosophy to adoration of a presumed dead medicine-man. as dr. hahn's ingenious hypothesis has been already examined by us,* it is unnecessary again to discuss the philological basis of his argument. dr. hahn not only heard simple and affecting prayers addressed to tsui goab, but learned from native informants that the god had been a chief, a warrior, wounded in his knee in battle with gaunab, another chief, and that he had prophetic powers. he still watches the ways of men (p. ) and punishes guilt. universal testimony was given to the effect that heitsi eibib also had been a chief from the east, a prophet and a warrior. he apportioned, by blessings and curses, their present habits to many of the animals. like odin, he was a "shape-shifter," possessing the medicine-man's invariable power of taking all manner of forms. he was on one occasion born of a cow, which reminds us of a myth of indra. by another account he was born of a virgin who tasted a certain kind of grass. this legend is of wonderfully wide diffusion among savage and semi-civilised races.** * custom and myth, pp. - . ** le fits de la vierge, h. de charency, havre, . a tale of incest by heitsi eibib, may be compared with another in muir's sanskrit texts, iv. . the tales about tsui goab and heitsi eibib are chiefly narratives of combats with animals and with the evil power in a nascent dualism, gaunab, "at first a ghost," according to hahn (p. ), or "certainly nobody else but the night" (pp. , ). here there is some inconsistency. if we regard the good power, tsui goab, as the red dawn, we are bound to think the evil power, gaunab, a name for the night. but dr. hahn's other hypothesis, that the evil power was originally a malevolent ghost, seems no less plausible. in either case, we have here an example of the constant mythical dualism which gives the comparatively good being his perpetual antagonist--the loki to his odin, the crow to his eagle-hawk. in brief, hottentot myth is pretty plainly a reflection of hottentot general ideas about ancestor worship, ghosts, sorcerers and magicians, while, in their _religious_ aspect, heitsi eibib or tsui goab are guardians of life and of morality, fathers and friends. a description of barbarous beliefs not less scholarly and careful than that compiled by dr. hahn has been published by the rev. r. h. codrington.* mr. codrington has studied the myths of the papuans and other natives of the melanesian group, especially in the solomon islands and banks island. these peoples are by no means in the lowest grade of culture; they are traders in their way, builders of canoes and houses, and their society is interpenetrated by a kind of mystic hierarchy, a religious _camorra_. the banks islanders** recognise two sorts of intelligent extra-natural beings--the spirits of the dead and powers which have never been human. * journal anthrop. inst., february, . ** op. cit., p. . the former are _tamate_, the latter _vui_--ghosts and _genii_, we might call them. vuis are classed by mr. codrington as "corporeal" and "incorporeal," but he thinks the corporeal vuis have not _human_ bodies. among corporeal vuis the chief are the beings nearest to gods in melanesian myths--the half god, half "culture-hero," i qat, his eleven brothers, and his familiar and assistant, marawa. these were members of a race anterior to that of the men of to-day, and they dwelt in vanua levu. though now passed away from the eyes of mortals, they are still invoked in prayer. the following appeal by a voyaging banks islander resembles the cry of the shipwrecked odysseus to the friendly river:-- "qat! marawa! look down upon us; smooth the sea for us two, that i may go safely on the sea. beat down for me the crests of the tide-rip; let the tide-rip settle down away from me; beat it down level that it may sink and roll away, and i may come to a quiet landing-place." compare the prayer of odysseus:-- "'hear me, o king, whosoever thou art; unto thee am i come as to one to whom prayer is made, while i flee the rebukes of poseidon from the deep....' so spake he, and the god straightway stayed his stream and withheld his waves, and made the water smooth before him, and brought him safely to the mouth of the river." but for qat's supernatural power and creative exploits,* "there would be little indeed to show him other than a man". he answers almost precisely to maui, the "the culture-hero" of new zealand. qat's mother either was, or, like niobe, became a stone. * see "savage myths of the origin of things". he was the eldest (unlike maui) of twelve brothers, among whom were tongaro the wise and tongaro the fool. the brothers were killed by an evil gluttonous power like kwai hemm and put in a food chest. qat killed the foe and revived his brothers, as the sons of cronus came forth alive from their father's maw. his great foe--for of course he had a foe--was qasavara, whom he destroyed by dashing him against the solid firmament of sky. qasavara is now a stone (like the serpent displayed by zeus at aulis*), on which sacrifices are made. qat's chief friend is marawa, a spider, or a vui in the shape of a spider. the divine mythology of the melanesians, as far as it has been recovered, is meagre. we only see members of a previous race, "magnified non-natural men," with a friendly insect working miracles and achieving rather incoherent adventures. * iliad, ii. - . much on the same footing of civilisation as the melanesians were the natives of tonga in the first decade of this century. the tongan religious beliefs were nearly akin to the ideas of the samoans and of the solomon islanders. in place of vuis they spoke of hotooas (atuas), and like the vuis, those spiritual beings have either been purely spiritual from the beginning or have been incarnate in humanity and are now ghosts, but ghosts enjoying many of the privileges of gods. all men, however, have not souls capable of a separate existence, only the _egi_ or nobles, possess a spiritual part, which goes to bolotoo, the land of gods and ghosts, after death, and enjoys "power similar to that of the original gods, but less". it is open to philosophers of mr. herbert spencer's school to argue that the "original gods" were once ghosts like the others, but this was not the opinion of the tongans. they have a supreme creator, who alone receives no sacrifice.* both sorts of gods appear occasionally to mankind--the primitive deities particularly affect the forms of "lizards, porpoises and a species of water-snake, hence those animals are much respected".** * mariner, ii. . ** mariner's tonga islands, edin., , ii - . whether each stock of tongans had its own animal incarnation of its special god does not appear from mariner's narrative. the gods took human morality under their special protection, punishing the evil and rewarding the good, in this life only, not in the land of the dead. when the comfortable doctrine of eternal punishment was expounded to the tongans by mariner, the poor heathen merely remarked that it "was very bad indeed for the papalangies" or foreigners. their untutored minds, in their pagan darkness, had dreamed of no such thing. the tongans themselves are descended from some gods who set forth on a voyage of discovery out of bolotoo. landing on tonga, these adventurers were much pleased with the island, and determined to stay there; but in a few days certain of them died. they had left the deathless coasts for a world where death is native, and, as they had eaten of the food of the new realm, they would never escape the condition of mortality. this has been remarked as a widespread belief. persephone became enthralled to hades after tasting the mystic pomegranate of the underworld. in samoa siati may not eat of the god's meat, nor wainamoinen in pohjola, nor thomas the rhymer in fairyland. the exploring gods from bolotoo were in the same way condemned to become mortal and people the world with mortal beings, and all about them should be _méa máma_, subject to decay and death.* it is remarkable, if correctly reported, that the secondary gods, or ghosts of nobles, cannot reappear as lizards, porpoises and water-snakes; this is the privilege of the original gods only, and may be an assumption by them of a conceivably totemistic aspect. the nearest approach to the idea of a permanent supreme deity is contained in the name of táli y toobo--"wait there, toobo"--a name which conveys the notion perhaps of permanence or eternity. "he is a great chief from the top of the sky to the bottom of the earth."** * mariner, ii. . ** ibid., ii. . he is invoked both in war and peace, not locally, but "for the general good of the natives". he is the patron, not of any special stock or family, but of the house in which the royal power is lodged for the time. alone of gods he is unpropitiated by food or libation, indicating that he is not evolved out of a hungry ghost. another god, toobo toty or toobo the mariner, may be a kind of poseidon. he preserves canoes from perils at sea. on the death of the daughter of finow, the king in mariner's time, that monarch was so indignant that he threatened to kill the priest of toobo toty. as the god is believed to inspire the priest, this was certainly a feasible way of getting at the god. but toobo toty was beforehand with finow, who died himself before he could carry the war into bolotoo.* this finow was a sceptic; he allowed that there were gods, because he himself had occasionally been inspired by them; "but what the priests tell us about their power over mankind i believe to be all false". thus early did the conflict of church and state declare itself in tonga. human sacrifices were a result of priestcraft in tonga, as in greece. even the man set to kill a child of toobo toa's was moved by pity, and exclaimed _o iaooe chi vale!_ ("poor little innocent!") the priest demanded this sacrifice to allay the wrath of the gods for the slaying of a man in consecrated ground.** such are the religious ideas of tonga; of their mythology but little has reached us, and that is under suspicion of being coloured by acquaintance with the stories of missionaries. * mariner, i. , it . ** compare the ayos of the alcmænidæ. the maoris, when first discovered by europeans, were in a comparatively advanced stage of barbarism. their society had definite ranks, from that of the rangatira, the chief with a long pedigree, to the slave. their religious hymns, of great antiquity, have been collected and translated by grey, taylor, bastian and others. the mere possession of such hymns, accurately preserved for an unknown number of years by oral tradition, proves that the mythical notions of the maoris have passed through the minds of professed bards and early physical speculators. the verses, as bastian has observed (_die heilige sage der polynesier_), display a close parallel to the roughest part of the early greek cosmogonies, as expounded by hesiod. yet in the maori hymns there are metaphysical ideas and processes which remind one more of heraclitus than of hesiod, and perhaps more of hegel than of either. whether we are to regard the abstract conceptions or the rude personal myths of gods such as a, the beyond all, as representing the earlier development of maori thought, whether one or the other element is borrowed, not original, are questions which theorists of different schools will settle in their own way to their own satisfaction. some hymns represent the beginning of things from a condition of thought, and socrates might have said of the maori poets as he did of anaxagoras, that compared with other early thinkers, they are "like sober men among drunkards". thus one hymn of the origins runs thus:-- from the conception the increase, from the increase the swelling, from the swelling the thought, from the thought the remembrance, from the remembrance the desire. the word became fruitful, it dwelt with the feeble glimmering, it brought forth night. from the nothing the begetting, it produced the atmosphere which is above us. the atmosphere above dwelt with the glowing sky, forthwith was produced the sun. then the moon sprang forth. they were thrown up above as the chief eyes of heaven, then the heavens became light. the sky which floats above dwelt with hawaiki,* and produced (certain islands). * the islands of hawaiki, being then the only land known, is put for papa, the earth. then follow genealogies of gods, down to the chief in whose family this hymn was traditional.* * taylor, new zealand, pp. - . other hymns of the same character, full of such metaphysical and abstract conceptions as "the proceeding from the nothing," are quoted at great length. these extracts are obviously speculative rather than in any sense mythological the element of myth just shows itself when we are told that the sky dwelt with the earth and produced certain islands. but myth of a familiar character is very fully represented among the maoris. their mythical gods, though "mixed up with the spirits of ancestors," are great natural powers, first heaven and earth, rangi and papa, the parents of all. these are conceived as having originally been united in such a close embrace, the heaven lying on the earth, that between their frames all was darkness, and in darkness the younger gods, atua, o-te-po, their children, were obliged to dwell. these children or younger gods (answering to the cronidæ) were the god of war (tumatauenga), the forest-god (tane mahuta), in shape a tree, the wind-god (tawhiri matea), the gods of cultivated and natural fruits, the god of ocean (tangaroa). these gods were unable to endure the dungeon and the darkness of their condition, so they consulted together and said: "let us seek means whereby to destroy heaven and earth, or to separate them from each other". the counsel of tane mahuta prevailed: "let one go upwards and become a stranger to us; let the other remain below and be a parent to us". finally, tane mahuta rent asunder heaven and earth, pushing heaven up where he has ever since remained. the wind-god followed his father, abode with him in the open spaces of the sky, and thence makes war on the trees of the forest-god, his enemy. tangaroa went, like poseidon, to the great deep, and his children, the reptiles and fishes, clove part to the waters, part to the dry land. the war-god, tu, was more of a human being than the other gods, though his "brethren" are plants, fish and reptiles. still, tu is not precisely the first man of new zealand. though all these mythical beings are in a sense departmental gods, they yield in renown to a later child of their race, maui, the great culture-hero, who is an advanced form of the culture-heroes, mainly theriomorphic, of the lower races.* maui, like many heroes of myth, was a youngest son. he was prematurely born (a similar story comes in the brahmanic legend of the adityas); his mother wrapped him up in her long hair and threw him out to sea. a kinsman rescued him, and he grew up to be much the most important member of his family, like qat in his larger circle of brethren. maui it was who snared the sun, beat him,** and taught him to run his appointed course, instead of careering at will and at any pace he chose about the heavens. * te-heu-heu, a powerful chief, described to mr. taylor the departmental character of his gods. "is there one maker of things among europeans? is not one a carpenter, another a blacksmith, another a shipbuilder? so it was in the beginning. one made this, another that. tane made trees, ru mountains, tangaroa fish, and so forth." taylor, new zealand, p. , note. ** the sun, when beaten, cried out and revealed his great name, exactly as indra did in his terror and flight after slaying the serpent. taylor, op. cit., p. . he was the culture-hero who invented barbs for spears and hooks; he turned his brother into the first dog, whence dogs are sacred, he fished new zealand out of the sea; he stole fire for men. how maui performed this feat, and how he "brought death into the world and all our woe," are topics that belong to the myths of _death_ and of the _fire-stealer_.* maui could not only change men into animals, but could himself assume animal shapes at will. such is a brief account of the ancient traditions of mythical maori gods and of the culture-hero. in practice, the conception of _atua_ (or a kind of extra-natural power or powers) possesses much influence in new zealand. all manner of spirits in all manner of forms are _atuas_. "a great chief was regarded as a malignant god in life, and a still worse one after death."** again, "after maui came a host of gods, each with his history and wonderful deeds.... these were ancestors who became deified by their respective tribes,"***--a statement which must be regarded as theoretical. * see la mythologie, a. l., paris, . ** taylor, op. cit., pp. , . ***op. cit., p. . it is odd enough, if true, that maru should be the war-god of the southern island, and that the planet mars is called after him maru. "there were also gods in human forms, and others with those of reptiles.... at one period there seems to have been a mixed offspring from the same parents. thus while tawaki was of the human form, his brethren were _taniwa_ and sharks; there were likewise mixed marriages among them." these legends are the natural result of that lack of distinction between man and the other things in the world which, as we demonstrated, prevails in early thought. it appears that the great mythical gods of the maoris have not much concern with their morality. the myths are "but a magnified history of their chiefs, their wars, murders and lusts, with the addition of some supernatural powers"--such as the chiefs are very apt to claim.* in the opinion of a competent observer, the gods, or atua, who are feared in daily life, are "spirits of the dead," and _their_ attention is chiefly confined to the conduct of their living descendants and clansmen. they inspire courage, the leading virtue. when converted, the natives are said not to expel, but merely to subordinate their atua, "believing christ to be a more powerful atua".** * op. cit., p. . ** shortland, trad, and superst. of new zealanders, , pp. - . the maoris are perhaps the least elevated race in which a well-developed polytheism has obscured almost wholly that belief in a moral maker which we find among the lowest savages who have but a rudimentary polytheism. when we advance to ancient civilised peoples, like the greeks, we shall find the archaic theism obscured, or obliterated, in a similar way. in the beliefs of samoa (formerly called the navigators' islands, and discovered by a dutch expedition in ) may be observed a most interesting moment in the development of religion and myth. in many regions it has been shown that animals are worshipped as totems, and that the gods are invested with the shape of animals. in the temples of higher civilisations will be found divine images still retaining in human form certain animal attributes, and a minor worship of various beasts will be shown to have grouped itself in greece round the altars of zeus, or apollo, or demeter. now in samoa we may perhaps trace the actual process of the "transition," as mr. tylor says, "from the spirit inhabiting an individual body to the deity presiding over all individuals of a kind". in other words, whereas in australia or america each totem-kindred reveres each animal supposed to be of its own lineage--the "cranes" revering all cranes, the "kangaroos" all kangaroos--in samoa the various clans exhibit the same faith, but combine it with the belief that one spiritual deity reveals itself in each separate animal, as in a kind of avatar. for example, the several australian totem-kindreds do not conceive that pund-jel incarnates himself in the emu for one stock, in the crow for another, in the cockatoo for a third, and they do not by these, but by other means, attain a religious unity, transcending the diversity caused by the totemic institutions. in samoa this kind of spiritual unity is actually reached by various stocks. the samoans were originally spoken of by travellers as the "godless samoans," an example of a common error. probably there is no people whose practices and opinions, if duly investigated, do not attest their faith in something of the nature of gods. certainly the samoans, far from being "godless," rather deserve the reproach of being "in all things too superstitious". "the gods were supposed to appear in some _visible incarnation_, and the particular thing in which his god was in the habit of appearing was to the samoanan object of veneration."* * turner's samoa, p. . here we find that the religious sentiment has already become more or less self-conscious, and has begun to reason on its own practices. in pure totemism it is their kindred animal that men revere. the samoans explain their worship of animals, not on the ground of kinship and common blood or "one flesh" (as in australia), but by the comparatively advanced hypothesis that a spiritual power is _in_ the animal. "one, for instance, saw his god in the eel, another in the shark, another in the turtle, another in the dog, another in the owl, another in the lizard," and so on, even to shell-fish. the creed so far is exactly what garcilasso de la vega found among the remote and ruder neighbours of the incas, and attributed to the pre-inca populations. "a man," as in egypt, and in totemic countries generally, "would eat freely of what was regarded as the incarnation of the god of another man", but the incarnation of his own god he would consider it death to injure or eat. the god was supposed to avenge the insult by taking up his abode in that person's body, and causing to generate there the very thing which he had eaten until it produced death. the god used to be heard within the man, saying, "i am killing this man; he ate my incarnation". this class of tutelary deities they called _aitu fale_, or "gods of the house," gods of the stock or kindred. in totemistic countries the totem is respected _per se_, in samoa the animal is worshipful because a god abides within him. this appears to be a theory by which the reflective samoans have explained to themselves what was once pure totemism. not only the household, but the village has its animal gods or god incarnate in an animal as some arab tribes piously bury dead gazelles, as athenians piously buried wolves, and egyptians cats, so in samoa "if a man found a dead owl by the roadside, and if that happened to be the incarnation of his village god, he would sit down and weep over it, and beat his forehead with a stone till the blood came. this was supposed to be pleasing to the deity. then the bird would be wrapped up and buried with care and ceremony, as if it were a human body. this, however, was not the death of the god." like the solemnly sacrificed buzzard in california, like the bull in the attic _dupolia_, "he was supposed to be yet alive and incarnate in all the owls in existence".* in addition to these minor and local divinities, the samoans have gods of sky, earth, disease and other natural departments.** of their origin we only know that they fell from heaven, and all were incarnated or embodied in birds, beasts, plants, stones and fishes. but they can change shapes, and appear in the moon when she is not visible, or in any other guise they choose. if in samoa the sky-god was once on the usual level of sky-gods elsewhere, he seems now to be degenerate. * (------------------) porph., de abst.t ii. ; samoa, p. . ** i am careful not to call samoan sacred animals "totems." to which mr. tylor justly objects, but i think the samoan belief has totemistic origins. chapter xiv. american divine myths novelty of the "new world "--different stages of culture represented there--question of american monotheism-- authorities and evidence cited--myths examined: eskimo, ahts, thlinkeets, iroquois, the great hare--dr. brinton's theory of the hare--zuni myths--transition to mexican mythology. the divine myths of the vast american continent are a topic which a lifetime entirely devoted to the study could not exhaust. at best it is only a sketch in outline that can be offered in a work on the development of mythology in general. the subject is the more interesting as anything like systematic borrowing of myths from the old world is all but impossible, as has already been argued in chapter xi. america, it is true, may have been partially "discovered" many times; there probably have been several points and moments of contact between the new and the old world. yet at the time when the spaniards landed there, and while the first conquests and discoveries were being pursued, the land and the people were to europeans practically as novel as the races and territories of a strange planet.* but the new world only revealed the old stock of humanity in many of its familiar stages of culture, and, consequently, with the old sort of gods, and myths, and creeds. * reville, hibbert lectures, , p. in the evolution of politics, society, ritual, and in all the outward and visible parts of religion, the american races ranged between a culture rather below the ancient egyptian and a rudeness on a level with australian or bushman institutions. the more civilised peoples, aztecs and peruvians, had many peculiarities in common with the races of ancient egypt, china and india; where they fell short was in the lack of alphabet or syllabary. the mexican mss. are but an advanced picture-writing, more organised than that of the ojibbeways; the peruvian quipus was scarcely better than the red indian wampum records. mexicans and peruvians were settled in what deserved to be called cities; they had developed a monumental and elaborately decorated architecture; they were industrious in the arts known to them, though ignorant of iron. among the aztecs, at least, weapons and tools of bronze, if rare, were not unknown. they were sedulous in agriculture, disciplined in war, capable of absorbing and amalgamating with conquered tribes. in peru the ruling family, the incas, enjoyed all the sway of a hierarchy, and the chief inca occupied nearly as secure a position, religious, social and political, as any rameses or thothmes. in mexico, doubtless, the monarch's power was at least nominally limited, in much the same way as that of the persian king. the royal rule devolved on the elected member of an ancient family, but once he became prince he was surrounded by imposing ceremony. in both these two civilised peoples the priesthood enjoyed great power, and in mexico, though not so extensively, if at all, in peru, practised an appalling ritual of cannibalism and human sacrifice. it is extremely probable, or rather certain, that both of these civilisations were younger than the culture of other american peoples long passed away, whose cities stand in colossal ruin among the forests, whose hieroglyphs seem undecipherable, and whose copper-mines were worked at an unknown date on the shore of lake superior. over the origin and date of those "crowned races" it were vain to linger here. they have sometimes left the shadows of names--toltecs and chichimecs--and relics more marvellous than the fainter traces of miners and builders in southern and central africa. the rest is silence. we shall never know why the dwellers in palenque deserted their majestic city while "the staircases were new, the steps whole, the edges sharp, and nowhere did traces of wear and tear give certain proof of long habitation".* on a much lower level than the great urban peoples, but tending, as it were, in the same direction, and presenting the same features of state communism in their social arrangements, were, and are, the cave and cliff dwellers, the agricultural village indians (pueblo indians) of new mexico and arizona. in the sides of the cañons towns have been burrowed, and men have dwelt in them like sand-martins in a sand-bank. the traveller views "perpendicular cliffs everywhere riddled with human habitations, which resemble the cells of a honeycomb more than anything else". in lowland villages the dwellings are built of clay and stone. * nadaillac, prehistoric america, p. . "the san juan valley is strewn with ruins for hundreds of miles; some buildings, three storeys high, of masonry, are still standing."* the moquis, zunis and navahos of to-day, whose habits and religious rites are known from the works of mr. cushing, mr. matthews, and captain john g. bourke, are apparently descendants of "a sedentary, agricultural and comparatively cultivated race," whose decadence perhaps began "before the arrival of the spaniards."** rather lower in the scale of culture than the settled pueblo indians were the hunter tribes of north america generally. they dwelt, indeed, in collections of wigwams which were partially settled, and the "long house" of the iroquois looks like an approach to the communal system of the pueblos.*** but while such races as iroquois, mandans and ojibbeways cultivated the maize plant, they depended for food more than did the pueblo peoples on success in the chase. deer, elk, buffalo, the wild turkey, the bear, with ducks and other birds, supplied the big kettle with its contents. their society was totemistic, as has already been described; kinship, as a rule, was traced through the female line; the sachems or chiefs and counsellors were elected, generally out of certain totem-kindreds; the war-chiefs were also elected when a military expedition started on the war-path; and jossakeeds or medicine-men (the title varied in different dialects) had no small share of secular power. *nadaillac, p. . ** ibid., p. . see bourke's snake-dance of the natives of arizona, and the fifth report of the archaeological institute of america, with an account of the development of pueblo buildings. it seems scarcely necessary to discuss mr. lewis morgan's attempt to show that the aztecs of cortes's time were only on the level of the modern pueblo indians. *** mr. lewis morgan's valuable league of the iroquois and the iroquois book of rites (brinton, philadelphia, ) may be consulted. in war these tribes displayed that deliberate cruelty which survived under the aztec rulers as the enormous cannibal ritual of human sacrifice. a curious point in red indian custom was the familiar institution of scalping the slain in war. other races are head-hunters, but scalping is probably peculiar to the red men and the scythians.* * herodotus, iv. . on a level, yet lower than that of the algonkin and other hunter tribes, are the american races whom circumstances have driven into desolate infertile regions; who live, like the ahts, mainly on fish; like the eskimos, in a world of frost and winter; or like the fuegians, on crustaceans and seaweed. the minute gradations of culture cannot be closely examined here, but the process is upwards, from people like the fuegians and diggers, to the builders of the kitchen-middens--probably quite equals of the eskimos***--and so through the condition of ahts. *** nadaillac, prehistoric america, p. . the resemblance between scythian and red indian manners exercised the learned in the time of grotius. it has been acutely remarked by j. g. müller, that in america one stage of society, as developed in the old world, is absent. there is no pastoral stage. the natives had neither domesticated kine, goats nor sheep. from this lack of interest in the well-being of the domesticated lower animals he is inclined to deduce the peculiarly savage cruelty of american war and american religion. sympathy was undeveloped. possibly the lack of tame animals may have encouraged the prevalence of human sacrifice. the brahmana shows how, in hindostan, the lower animals became vicarious substitutes for man in sacrifice, as the fawn of artemis or the ram of jehovah took the place of iphigenia or of isaac. cf. j. g. müller, oeschichte der amerikanisehen urreligionen, pp. , . thlinkeets, cahrocs and other rude tribes of the north-west pacific coast, to that of sioux, blackfeet, mandans, iroquois, and then to the settled state of the pueblo folk, the southern comforts of the natchez, and finally to the organisation of the mayas, and the summit occupied by the aztecs and incas. through the creeds of all these races, whether originally of the same stock or not, run many strands of religious and mythical beliefs--the very threads that are woven into the varied faiths of the old world. the dread of ghosts; the religious adoration paid to animals; the belief in kindred and protecting beasts; the worship of inanimate objects, roughly styled fetishes; a certain reverence for the great heavenly bodies, sun, moon and pleiades; a tendency to regard the stars, with all other things and phenomena, as animated and personal--with a belief in a supreme creator, these are the warp, as it were, of the fabric of american religion.* * the arguments against the borrowing of the creator from missionaries have already been stated. in one stage of culture one set of those ideas may be more predominant than in another stage, but they are present in all. the zoo-morphic or theriomorphic mythologies and creeds are nowhere more vivacious than in america. not content with the tribal zoomorphic guardian and friend, the totem, each indian was in the habit of seeking for a special animal protector of his own. this being, which he called his manitou, revealed itself to him in the long fasts of that savage sacrament which consecrates the entrance on full manhood. even in the elaborate religions of the civilised races, peruvians and aztecs, the animal deities survive, and sacred beasts gather in the shrine of pachacamac, or a rudimentary remnant of ancestral beak or feather clings to the statue of huitzilopochtli. but among the civilised peoples, in which the division of labour found its place and human ranks were minutely discriminated, the gods too had their divisions and departments. an organised polytheism prevailed, and in the temples of centeotl and tlazolteotl, herodotus or pausanias would have readily recognised the demeter and the aphrodite of mexico. there were departmental gods, and there was even an obvious tendency towards the worship of one spiritual deity, the bretwalda of all the divine kings, a god on his way to becoming single and supreme. the religions and myths of america thus display, like the myths and religions of the old world, the long evolution of human thought in its seeking after god. the rude first draughts of deity are there, and they are by no means effaced in the fantastic priestly designs of departmental divinities. the question of a primitive american monotheism has been more debated than even that of the "heno-theism" of the aryans in india. on this point it must be said that, in a certain sense, probably any race of men may be called monotheistic, just as, in another sense, christians who revere saints may be called polytheistic.* * gaidoz, revue critique, march, . it has been constantly set forth in this work that, in moments of truly religious thought, even the lowest tribes turn their minds towards a guardian, a higher power, something which watches and helps the race of men. this mental approach towards the powerful friend is an aspiration, and sometimes a dogma; it is religious, not mythological; it is monotheistic, not polytheistic. the being appealed to by the savage in moments of need or despair may go by a name which denotes a hawk, or a spider, or a grasshopper, but we may be pretty sure that little thought of such creatures is in the mind of the worshipper in his hour of need.* * there are exceptions, as when the ojibbeway, being in danger, appeals to his own private protecting manitou, perhaps a wild duck; or when the zuni cries to "ye animal gods, my fathers!" (bureau of ethnol., - , p. .) thus we can scarcely agree entirely with m. maurice vernes when he says, "all men are monotheistic in the fervour of adoration or in moments of deep thought". (l'histoire des religions, paris, , p. .) the tendency of adoration and of speculation is, however, monotheistic. again, the most ludicrous or infamous tales may be current about the adventures and misadventures of the grasshopper or the hawk. he may be, as mythically conceived, only one out of a crowd of similar magnified non-natural men or lower animals. but neither his companions nor his legend are likely to distract the thoughts of the bushman who cries to cagn for food, or of the murri who tells his boy that pund-jel watches him from the heavens, or of the solomon islander who appeals to qat as he crosses the line of reefs and foam. thus it may be maintained that whenever man turns to a guardian not of this world, not present to the senses, man is for the moment a theist, and often a monotheist. but when we look from aspiration to doctrine, from the solitary ejaculation to ritual, from religion to myth, it would probably be vain to suppose that an uncontaminated belief in one god only, the maker and creator of all things, has generally prevailed, either in america or elsewhere. such a belief, rejecting all minor deities, consciously stated in terms and declared in ritual, is the result of long ages and efforts of the highest thought, or, if once and again the intuition of deity has flashed on some lonely shepherd or sage like an inspiration, his creed has usually been at war with the popular opinions of men, and has, except in islam, won its disciples from the learned and refined. america seems no exception to so general a rule. an opposite opinion is very commonly entertained, because the narratives of missionaries, and even the novels of cooper and others, have made readers familiar with such terms as "the great spirit" in the mouths of pawnees or mohicans. on the one hand, taking the view of borrowing, mrs. e. a. smith says: "'the great spirit,' so popularly and poetically know as the god of the red man,' and 'the happy hunting-ground,' generally reported to be the indian's idea of a future state, are both of them but their ready conception of the white man's god and heaven".* dr. brinton, too,** avers that "the great spirit is a post-christian conception." in most cases these terms are entirely of modern origin, coined at the suggestion of missionaries, applied to the white man's god.... * bureau of ethnology's second report, p. . ** myths of the new world, new york, , p. . the jesuits' _relations_ state positively that there was "no one immaterial god recognised by the algonkin tribes, and that the title 'the great manito' was introduced first by themselves in its personal sense." the statement of one missionary cannot be taken, of course, to bind all the others. the pere paul le jeune remarks: "the savages give the name of manitou to whatsoever in nature, good or evil, is superior to man. therefore when we speak of god, they sometimes call him 'the good manitou,' that is, 'the good spirit'."* the same pere paul le jeune** says that by manitou his flock meant _un ange ou quelque nature puissante. il y'en a de bons et de mauvais_. the evidence of pere hierosme lallemant*** has already been alluded to, but it may be as well to repeat that, while he attributes to the indians a kind of unconscious religious theism, he entirely denies them any monotheistic dogmas. with tertullian, he writes, _exclamant vocem naturaliter christianam_. "to speak truth, these peoples have derived from their fathers no knowledge of a god, and before we set foot in their country they had nothing but vain fables about the origin of the world. nevertheless, savages as they were, there did abide in their hearts a secret sentiment of divinity, and of a first principle, author of all things, whom, not knowing, they yet invoked. in the forest, in the chase, on the water, in peril by sea, they call him to their aid." * relations de la novelle france, , p. . ** relations, , p. . *** , p. . this guardian, it seems, receives different names in different circumstances. myth comes in; the sky is a god; a manitou dwelling in the north sends ice and snow; another dwells in the waters, and many in the winds.* the pere allouez** says, "they recognise no sovereign of heaven or earth". here the good father and all who advocate a theory of borrowing are at variance with master thomas heriot, "that learned _mathematician_" ( ). in virginia "there is one chiefe god, that has beene from all eternitie," who "made other gods of a principal order".*** near new plymouth, kiehtan was the chief god, and the souls of the just abode in his mansions.**** we have already cited alione, and shown that he and the other gods found by the first explorers, are certainly not of christian origin. * the confessions of kah-ge-ga-gah bowh, a converted crane of the ojibbeways, may be rather a suspicious document. kah, to shorten his noble name, became a preacher and platform- speaker of somewhat windy eloquence, according to mr. longfellow, who had heard him. his report is that in youth he sought the favour of the manitous (mon-e-doos he calls them), but also revered ke-sha-mon-e-doo, the benevolent spirit, "who made the earth with all its variety and smiling beauty". but his narrative is very unlike the indian account of the manufacture of the world by this or that animal, already given in "myths of the origin of things". the benevolent spirit, according to kah's father, a medicine- man, dwelt in the sun (copway, recollections of a forest life, london, s. a. pp. , ). practical and good-natured actions of the great spirit are recorded on p. . he directs starving travellers by means of dreams. ** relations, , p. . *** arber, captain john smith, p. . **** op. cit., p. . a curious account of red indian religion may be extracted from a work styled _a narrative of the captivity and adventures of john tanner during a thirty years' residence among the indians_ (new york, ). tanner was caught when a boy, and lived as an indian, even in religion. the great spirit constantly appears in his story as a moral and protecting deity, whose favour and help may be won by "prayers, which are aided by magical ceremonies and dances. tanner accepted and acted on this part of the indian belief, while generally rejecting the medicine men, who gave themselves out for messengers or avaters of the great spirit. tanner had frequent visions of the great spirit in the form of a handsome young man, who gave him information about the future. "do i not know," said the appearance, "when you are hungry and in distress? i look down upon you at all times, and it is not necessary you should call me with such loud cries". (p. ). almost all idea of a tendency towards monotheism vanishes when we turn from the religions to the myths of the american peoples. doubtless it may be maintained that the religious impulse or sentiment never wholly dies, but, after being submerged in a flood of fables, reappears in the philosophic conception of a pure deity entertained by a few of the cultivated classes of mexico and peru. but our business just now is with the flood of fables. from north to south the more general beliefs are marked with an early dualism, and everywhere are met the two opposed figures of a good and a bad extra-natural being in the shape of a man or beast. the eskimos, for example, call the better being torngarsuk. "they don't all agree about his form or aspect. some say he has no form at all; others describe him as a great bear, or as a great man with one arm, or as small as a finger. he is immortal, but might be killed by the intervention of the god crepitus."* * the circumstances in which this is possible may be sought for in crantz, history of greenland, london, , vol. i. p. "the other great but malignant spirit is a nameless female," the wife or mother of torngarsuk. she dwells under the sea in a habitation guarded by a cerberus of her own, a huge dog, which may be surprised, for he sleeps for one moment at a time. torngarsuk is not the maker of all things, but still is so much of a deity that many, "when they hear of god and his omnipotence, are readily led to the supposition that probably we mean their torngarsuk ". all spirits are called torngak, and _soak = great_; hence the good spirit of the eskimos in his limited power is "the great spirit".* in addition to a host of other spirits, some of whom reveal themselves affably to all, while others are only accessible to angakut or medicine-men, the eskimos have a pluto, or hades, or charos of their own. he is meagre, dark, sullen, and devours the bowels of the ghosts. there are spirits of fire, water, mountains, winds; there are dog-faced demons, and the souls of abortions become hideous spectres, while the common ghost of civilised life is familiar. the spirit of a boy's dead mother appeared to him in open day, and addressed him in touching language: "be not afraid; i am thy mother, and love thee!" for here, too, in this frozen and haunted world, love is more strong than death.** eskimo myth is practical, and, where speculative, is concerned with the fortunes of men, alive or dead, as far as these depend on propitiating the gods or extra-natural beings. the eskimo myth of the origin of death would find its place among the other legends of this sort.*** * crantz, op. cit., i. . note. ** op. cit., i. *** cf. modern mythology, "the origin of death". as a rule, eskimo myth, as far as it has been investigated, rather resembles that of the zulus. _märchen_ or romantic stories are very common; tales about the making of things and the actions of the pre-human beings are singularly scarce. except for some moon and star myths, and the tale of the origin of death, hardly any myths, properly so called, are reported. "only very scanty traces," says rink, "have been found of any kind of ideas having been formed as to the origin and early history of the world and the ruling powers or deities."* * he adds that this "seems sufficiently to show that such mythological speculations have been, in respect to other nations, also the product of a later stage of culture". that this position is erroneous is plain from the many myths here collected from peoples lower in culture than the eskimos. cf. rink, _tales and traditions of the eskimos_. turning from the eskimos to the ahts of vancouver's island, we find them in possession of rather a copious mythology. without believing exactly in a _supreme_, they have the conception of a _superior_ being, quawteaht, no mere local nor tribal deity, but known in every village, like osiris in egypt. he is also, like osiris and baiame, the chief of a beautiful, far-off, spiritual country, but he had his adventures and misadventures while he dwelt on earth. the malevolent aspect of things--storms, disease and the rest--is either quawteaht enraged, or the manifestation of his opponent in the primitive dualism, tootooch or chay-her, the hades or pluto of the ahts. like hades, chay-her is both a person and a place--the place of the dead discomforted, and the ruler of that land, a boneless form with a long grey beard. the exploits of quawteaht in the beginning of things were something between those of zeus and of prometheus. "he is the general framer--i do not say creator of all things, though some special things are excepted."* quawteaht, in the legend of the loon (who was once an injured indian, and still wails his wrongs), is represented as conscious of the conduct of men, and as prone to avenge misdeeds.** in person quawteaht was of short stature, with very strong hairy arms and legs.*** there is a touch of unconscious darwinism in this description of "the first indian". in quawteaht mingle the rough draughts of a god and of an adam, a creator and a first man. this mixture is familiar in the zulu unkulunkulu. unlike prometheus, quawteaht did not steal the seed of fire. it was stolen by the cuttlefish, and in some legends quawteaht was the original proprietor. like most gods, he could assume the form of the beasts, and it was in the shape of a great whale that he discomfited his opponent tootooch.*** it does not appear that tootooch receives any worship or adoration, such as is offered to the sun and moon. * sproat, savage life, london, , p. . ** op. cit., p. . ***ibid. i. p. . leaving the ahts for the thlinkeets, we find yehl, the god or hero of the introduction of the arts, who, like the christ of the finnish epic or maui in new zealand, was born by a miraculous birth. his mother was a thlinkeet woman, whose boys had all been slain. as she wandered disconsolate by the sea-shore, a dolphin or whale, taking pity upon her. bade her drink a little salt water and swallow a pebble. she did so, and in due time bore a child, yehl, the hero of the thlinkeets. once, in his youth, yehl shot a supernatural crane, skinned it, and whenever he wished to fly, clothed himself in the bird's skin. yet he is always known as a raven. hence there is much the same confusion between yehl and the bird as between amun in egypt and the ram in whose skin he was once pleased to reveal himself to a mortal. in yehl's youth occurred the deluge, produced by the curse of an unfriendly uncle of his own; but the deluge was nothing to yehl, who flew up to heaven, and anchored himself to a cloud by his beak till the waters abated. like most heroes of his kind, yehl brought light to men. the heavenly bodies in his time were kept in boxes by an old chief. yehl, by an ingenious stratagem, got possession of the boxes. to fly up to the firmament with the treasure, to open the boxes, and to stick stars, sun and moon in their proper places in the sky, was to the active yehl the work of a moment. fire he stole, like prometheus, carrying a brand in his beak till he reached the thlinkeet shore. there the fire dropped on stones and sticks, from which it is still obtained by striking the flints or rubbing together the bits of wood. water, like fire, was a monopoly in those days, and one khanukh kept all of it in his own well. khanukh was the ancestor of the wolf family among the thlinkeets, as yehl is the first father of the stock called ravens. the wolf and raven thus answer to the mythic creative crow and cockatoo in australian mythology, and take sides in the primitive dualism. when yehl went to steal water from khanukh, the pair had a discussion, exactly like that between joukahainen and waina-moinen in the epic of the finns, as to which of them had been longer in the world. "before the world stood in its place, i was there," says yehl; and wainamoinen says, "when earth was made, i was there; when space was unrolled, i launched the sun on his way". similar boasts occur in the poems of empedocles and of taliesin. khanukh, however, proved to be both older and more skilled in magic than yehl. yet the accomplishment of flying once more stood yehl in good stead, and he carried off the water, as odin, in the form of a bird, stole suttung's mead, by flying off with it in his beak. yehl then went to his own place.* in the myths of the other races on the north-west pacific coast nothing is more remarkable than the theriomorphic character of the heroes, who are also to a certain extent gods and makers of things. the koniagas have their ancestral bird and dog, demiurges, makers of sea, rivers, hills, yet subject to "a great deity called schljam schoa," of whom they are the messengers and agents.** the aleuts have their primeval dog-hero, and also a great old man, who made people, like deucalion, and as in the macusi myth, by throwing stones over his shoulder.*** * bancroft, iii. - [holmberg, eth. skiz., p. ]. ** ibid., , quoting dall's alaska, p. , and lisiansky's voyage, pp. , . *** brett's indians qf guiana, p. . concerning the primal mythical beings of the great hunter and warrior tribes of america, algonkins, hurons and iroquois, something has already been said in the chapter on "myths of the origin of things". it is the peculiarity of such heroes or gods of myth as the opposing red indian good and evil deities that they take little part in the affairs of the world when once these have been started.* ioskeha and tawiscara, the good and bad primeval brothers, have had their wars, and are now, in the opinion of some, the sun and the moon.** the benefits of ioskeha to mankind are mainly in the past; as, for example, when, like another indra, he slew the great frog that had swallowed the waters, and gave them free course over earth.*** * erminie smith, in _report of bureau of ethnology_, - , publishes a full, but not very systematic, account of iroquois gods of to-day. thunder, the wind, and echo are the chief divine figures. the titans or jotuns, the opposed supernatural powers, are giants of stone. "among the most ancient of the deities were their most remote ancestors, certain animals who later were transformed into human shapes, the name of the animals being preserved by their descendants, who have used them to designate their gentes or clans." the iroquois have a strange and very touching version of the myth of orpheus and eurydice (op. cit., p. ). it appears to be native and unborrowed; all the details are pure iroquois. ** relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . *** ibid. i. p. . ioskeha is still so far serviceable that he "makes the pot boil," though this may only be a way of recalling the benefits conferred on man by him when he learned from the turtle how to make fire. ioskeha, moreover is thanked for success in the chase, because he let loose the animals from the cave in which they lived at the beginning. as they fled he spoiled their speed by wounding them with arrows; only one escaped, the wind-swift wolf. some devotees regarded ioskeha as the teacher of agriculture and the giver of great harvests of maize. in ioskeha was seen, all meagre and skeleton-like, tearing a man's leg with his teeth, a prophecy of famine. a more agreeable apparition of loskeha is reported by the pere barthelemy vimont.* when an iroquois was fishing, "a demon appeared to him in the shape of a tall and beautiful young man. 'be not afraid,' said this spirit; 'i am the master of earth, whom you hurons worship under the name of ioskeha; the french give me the erroneous name of jesus, but they know me not.'" ioskeha then gave some directions for curing the small-pox. the indian's story is, of course, coloured by what he knew of missionary teaching, but the incident should be compared with the "medicine dream" of john tanner. the sky, conceived as a person, held a place rather in the religion than in the mythology of the indians. he was approached with prayer and sacrifice, and "they implored the sky in all their necessities".** "the sky hears us," they would say in taking an oath, and they appeased the wrath of the sky with a very peculiar semi-cannibal sacrifice.*** * relations, , p. . ** op. cit. i. , p. . *** for pawnees and blackfeet see grinnell, pawnee and blackfoot legends ( vols.). what ioskeha was to the iroquois, michabo or manibozho was to the algonkin tribes. there has been a good deal of mystification about michabo or manibozho, or messou, who was probably, in myth, a hare _sans phrase_, but who has been converted by philological processes into a personification of light or dawn. it has already been seen that the wild north pacific peoples recognise in their hero and demiurge animals of various species; dogs, ravens, muskrats and coyotes have been found in this lofty estimation, and the utes believe in "cin-au-av, the ancient of wolves".* it would require some labour to derive all the ancient heroes and gods from misconceptions about the names of vast natural phenomena like light and dawn, and it is probable that michabo or mani-bozho, the great hare of the algonkins, is only a successful apotheosised totem like the rest. his legend and his dominion are very widely spread. dr. brinton himself (p. ) allows that the great hare is a totem. perhaps our earliest authority about the mythical great hare in america is william strachey's _travaile into virginia_.** * powell, in bureau of ethnology, - , p. . ** circa ; reprinted by the hakjuyt society. among other information as to the gods of the natives, strachey quotes the remarks of a certain indian: "we have five gods in all; our chief god appears often unto us in the likeness of a mighty great hare; the other four have no visible shape, but are indeed the four wynds". an indian, after hearing from the english the biblical account of the creation, explained that "our god, who takes upon him the shape of a hare,... at length devised and made divers men and women". he also drove away the cannibal manitous. "that godlike hare made the water and the fish and a great deare." the other four gods, in envy, killed the hare's deer. this is curiously like the bushman myth of cagn, the mantis insect, and his favourite eland. "the godly hare's house" is at the place of sun-rising; there the souls of good indians "feed on delicious fruits with that great hare," who is clearly, so far, the virginian osiris.* dr. brinton has written at some length on "this chimerical beast," whose myth prevails, he says, "from the remotest wilds of the north-west to the coast of the atlantic, from the southern boundary of carolina to the cheerless swamps of hudson's bay.... the totem" (totem-kindred probably is meant) "clan which bore his name was looked up to with peculiar respect." from this it would appear that the hare was a totem like another, and had the same origin, whatever that may have been. according to the pere allouez, the indians "ont en veneration toute particuliere, une certaine beste chimerique, qu'ils n'ont jamais veue sinon en songe, ils tappelient missibizi," which appears to be a form of michabo and mani-bozho.** * _history of travaile_, pp. , . this hare we have alluded to in vol. i. p. , but it seems worth while again to examine dr. brinton's theory more closely. ** relations, , p. in the same pere allouez gives some myths about michabo. "c'est-a-dire le grand lievre," who made the world, and also invented fishing-nets. he is the master of life, and can leap eight leagues at one bound, and is beheld by his servants in dreams. in pere paul le jeune gives a longer account of messou, "a variation of the same name," according to dr. brinton, as michabo. this messou reconstructed the drowned world out of a piece of clay brought him by an otter, which succeeded after the failure of a raven sent out by messou. he afterwards married a muskrat, by whom he became the father of a flourishing family. "le brave reparateur de l'univers est le frere aisné de toutes les bestes," says the mocking missionary.* messou has the usual powers of shape-shifting, which are the common accomplishments of the medicine-man or conjuror, _se transformant en mille sortes d'animaux.** he is not so much a creator as a demiurge, inferior to a mysterious being called atahocan. but atahocan is obsolescent, and his name is nearly equivalent to an old wife's fable, a story of events _au temps jadis_.*** "le mot _nitatoho-can signifie, 'je dis un vieux conte fait à plaisir'." * _relations_, , p. . ** op. cit., , p. . *** op. cit., , p. . these are examples of the legends of michabo or manibozho, the great hare. he appears in no way to differ from the other animals of magical renown, who, in so many scores of savage myths, start the world on its way and instruct men in the arts. his fame may be more widely spread, but his deeds are those of eagle, crow, wolf, coyote, spider, grasshopper, and so forth, in remote parts of the world. his legend is the kind of legend whose origin we ascribe to the credulous fancy of early peoples, taking no distinction between themselves and the beasts. if the hare was indeed the totem of a successful and honoured kindred, his elevation is perfectly natural and intelligible. dr. brinton, in his _myths of the new world_ (new york, ), adopts a different line of explanation. michabo, he says, "was originally the highest divinity recognised by them, powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world". we gladly welcome him in that capacity in religion. but it has already been shown that michabo is only, in myth, the _reparateur de l'univers_, and that he has a sleeping partner--a deity retired from business. moreover, dr. brinton's account of michabo, "powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world," clashes with his own statement, that "of monotheism as displayed in the one personal definite god of the semitic races" (to whom dr. brinton's description of michabo applies) "there is not a single instance on the american continent."* the residences and birthplaces of michabo are as many as those of the gods of greece. it is true that in some accounts, as in strachey's, "his bright home is in the _rising_ sun". it does not follow that the hare had any original connection with the dawn. but this connection dr. brinton seeks to establish by philological arguments. according to this writer, the names (manibozho, nanibozhu, missibizi, michabo, messou) "all seem compounded, according to well-ascertained laws of algonkin euphony, from the words corresponding to _great_ and _hare or rabbit_, or the first two perhaps from _spirit_ and _hare_".** but this seeming must not be trusted. we must attentively examine the algonkin root _wab_, when it will appear "that in fact there are two roots having this sound. one is the initial syllable of the word translated hare or rabbit, but the other means _white_, and from it is derived the words for the east, the dawn, the light, the day, and the morning. beyond a doubt (sic) this is the compound in the names michabo and manibozho, which therefore mean the great light, the spirit of light, of the dawn, or the east." * relations, pp. , . ** op. cit., p. . then the war of manibozho became the struggle of light and darkness. finally, michabo is recognised by dr. brinton as "the not unworthy personification of the purest conceptions they possessed concerning the father of all,"* though, according to dr. brinton in an earlier passage, they can hardly be said to have possessed such conceptions.** we are not responsible for these inconsistencies. the degeneracy to the belief in a "mighty great hare," a "chimerical beast," was the result of a misunderstanding of the root _wab_ in their own language by the algonkins, a misunderstanding that not only affected the dialects in which the root _wab_ occurred in the hare's name, but those in which it did not! on the whole, the mythology of the great hunting and warrior tribes of north america is peopled by the figures of ideal culture-heroes, partly regarded as first men, partly as demiurges and creators. they waver in outward aspect between the beautiful youths of the "medicine-dreams" and the bestial guise of totems and protecting animals. they have a tendency to become identified with the sun, like osiris in egypt, or with the moon. they are adepts in all the arts of the medicine-man, and they are especially addicted to animal metamorphosis. in the long winter evenings, round the camp-fire, the indians tell such grotesque tales of their pranks and adventures as the greeks told of their gods, and the middle ages of the saints.*** * relations, p. . ** op. cit., p. . *** a full collection of these, as they survive in oral tradition, with an obvious european intermixture, will be found in mr. leland's _algonquin legends_, london, , and in schoolcraft's _hiawatha legends_, london, . see especially the manibozho legend. the stage in civilisation above that of the hunter tribes is represented in the present day by the settled pueblo indians of new mexico and arizona. concerning the faith of the zunis we fortunately possess an elaborate account by mr. frank cushing.* mr. cushing was for long a dweller in the clay _pueblos_ of the zuñis, and is an initiated member of their sacred societies. he found that they dealt at least as freely in metaphysics as the maoris, and that, like the australians, "they suppose sun, moon and stars, the sky, earth and sea, in all their phenomena and elements, and all inanimate objects, as well as plants, animals and men, to belong to one great system of all conscious and interrelated life, in which the degrees of relationship seem to be determined largely, if not wholly, by the degrees of resemblance". this, of course, is stated in terms of modern self-conscious speculation. when much the same opinions are found among the kamilaroi and kurnai of australia, they are stated thus: "some of the totems divide not mankind only, but the whole universe into what may almost be called gentile divisions".** * report of bureau of ethnology, washington, - . ** kamilaroi and kurnai, p. .(p. ). mrs. langloh parker, in a letter to me, remarks that baiame alone is outside of this conception, and is common to all classes, and totems, and class divisions. "everything in nature is divided between the classes. the wind belongs to one and the rain to another. the sun is wutaroo and the moon is yungaroo.... the south australian savage looks upon the universe as the great tribe, to one of whose divisions he himself belongs, and all things, animate or inanimate, which belong to his class are parts of the body corporate, whereof he himself is part. they are almost parts of himself". manifestly this is the very condition of mind out of which mythology, with all existing things acting as _dramatis personæ_, must inevitably arise. the zuni philosophy, then, endows all the elements and phenomena of nature with personality, and that personality is blended with the personality of the beast "whose operations most resemble its manifestation". thus lightning is figured as a serpent, and the serpent holds a kind of mean position between lightning and man. strangely enough, flint arrow-heads, as in europe, are regarded as the gift of thunder, though the zunis have not yet lost the art of making, nor entirely abandoned, perhaps, the habit of using them. once more, the supernatural beings of zuni religion are almost invariably in the shape of animals, or in monstrous semi-theriomorphic form. there is no general name for the gods, but the appropriate native terms mean "creators and masters," "makers," and "finishers," and "immortals". all the classes of these, including the class that specially protects the animals necessary to men, "are believed to be related by blood ". but among these essences, the animals are nearest to man, most accessible, and therefore most worshipped, sometimes as mediators. but the zuni has mediators even between him and his animal mediators, and these are fetishes, usually of stone, which accidentally resemble this or that beast-god in shape. sometimes, as in the egyptian sphinx, the natural resemblance of a stone to a living form has been accentuated and increased by art. the stones with a natural resemblance to animals are most valued when they are old and long in use, and the orthodox or priestly theory is that they are petrifactions of this or that beast. flint arrow-heads and feathers are bound about them with string. all these beliefs and practices inspire the zuñi epic, which is repeated, at stated intervals, by the initiated to the neophytes. mr. cushing heard a good deal of this archaic poem in his sacred capacity. the epic contains a zuñi cosmogony. men, as in so many other myths, originally lived in the dark places of earth in four caverns. like the children of uranus and gæa, they murmured at the darkness. the "holder of the paths of life," the sun, now made two beings out of his own substance; they fell to the earth, armed with rainbow and lightning, a shield and a magical flint knife. the new-comers cut the earth with a flint-knife, as qat cut the palpable dark with a blade of red obsidian in melanesia. men were then lifted through the hole on the shield, and began their existence in the sunlight, passing gradually through the four caverns. men emerged on a globe still very wet; for, as in the iroquois and other myths, there had been a time when "water was the world ". the two benefactors dried the earth and changed the monstrous beasts into stones. it is clear that this myth accounts at once for the fossil creatures found in the rocks and for the merely accidental resemblance to animals of stones now employed as fetishes.* in the stones is believed to survive the "medicine" or magic, the spiritual force of the animals of old. * report, etc, p. . the zuñis have a culture-hero as usual, po'shai-an-k'ia, who founded the mysteries, as demeter did in greece, and established the sacred orders. he appeared in human form, taught men agriculture, ritual, and then departed. he is still attentive to prayer. he divided the world into regions, and gave the animals their homes and functions, much as heitsi eibib did in namaqualand. these animals carry out the designs of the culture-hero, and punish initiated zuñis who are careless of their religious duties and ritual. the myths of the sacred beasts are long and dismal, chiefly aetiological, or attempts to account by a fictitious narrative for the distribution and habits of the various creatures. zuñi prayers are mainly for success in the chase; they are directed to the divine beasts, and are reinforced by magical ceremonies. yet a prayer for sport may end with such a truly religious petition as this: "grant me thy light; give me and my children a good trail across life ". again we read: "this day, my fathers, ye animal gods, although this country be filled with enemies, render me precious.... oh, give ye shelter of my heart from them!" yet in religious hymns the zuñis celebrate ahonawilona, "the maker and container of all, the all father," the uncreated, the unbegotten, who "thought himself out into space". here is monotheism among fetishists.* * cushing, _report, ethnol. bureau_, - , p. . the faith of the zuñis, with its metaphysics, its devoutness and its magic ritual, may seem a kind of introduction to the magic, the ritual and the piety of the ancient aztecs. the latter may have grown, in a long course of forgotten ages, out of elements like those of the zuñi practice, combined with the atrocious cruelty of the warrior tribes of the north. perhaps in no race is the extreme contrast between low myth, and the highest speculation, that of "the eternal thinking himself out into space," so marked as among the zuñis. the highly abstract conception of ahonawilona was unknown to europeans when this work first appeared. chapter xv. mexican divine myths european eye-witnesses of mexican ritual--diaz, his account of temples and gods__sahagun, his method--theories of the god huitzilopochtli--totemistic and other elements in his image and legend--illustrations from latin religion-- "god-eating"--the calendar--other gods--their feasts and cruel ritual--their composite character--parallels from ancient classical peoples--moral aspects of aztec gods. the religion of the mexicans was a compound of morality and cruelty so astonishing that its two aspects have been explained as the contributions of two separate races. the wild aztecs from the north are credited with having brought to a high pitch of organised ritual the ferocious customs of the red indians. the tortures which the tribes inflicted on captives taken in war were transmuted into the cannibal sacrifices and orgies of bloodshed with which the aztec temples reeked. the milder elements, again, the sense of sin which found relief in confession and prayer, are assigned to the influence of mayas, and especially of toltecs, a shadowy and perhaps an imaginary people. our ignorance of mexican history before the spanish conquest is too deep to make any such theory of the influence of race on religion in mexico more than merely plausible. the facts of ritual and of myth are better known, thanks to the observations of such an honest soldier as bernal diaz and such a learned missionary as sahagun. the author of the _historia general de las cosas de nueva españa_ was a spanish franciscan, and one of the earliest missionaries ( ) in mexico. he himself describes the method by which he collected his information about the native religion. he summoned together the chief men of one of the provinces, who, in turn, chose twelve old men well seen in knowledge of the mexican practices and antiquities. several of them were also scholars in the european sense, and had been taught latin. the majority of the commission collected and presented "pictures which were the writings formerly in use among them," and the "grammarians" or latin-learned aztecs wrote in european characters and in aztec the explanations of these designs. when sahagun changed his place of residence, these documents were again compared, re-edited and enlarged by the assistance of the native gentlemen in his new district, and finally the whole was passed through yet a third "sieve," as sahagun says, in the city of mexico. the completed manuscript had many ups and downs of fortune, but sahagun's book remains a source of almost undisputed authenticity. probably no dead religion whose life was among a people ignorant of syllabaries or of the alphabet is presented to us in a more trustworthy form than the religion of mexico. it is necessary, however, to discount the _theories_ of sahagun and his converts, who though they never heard of euhemerus, habitually applied the euhemeristic doctrine to their facts. they decided that the gods of the aztecs had once been living men and conjurors, worshipped after their decease. it is possible, too, that a strain of catholic piety has found its way into the long prayers of the heathen penitents, as reported by sahagun.* sahagun gives us a full account of the mexican mythology. what the gods, as represented by idols and adored in ritual, were like, we learn from a gallant catholic soldier, bernal diaz.** "above the altars," he writes, "were two shapes like giants, wondrous for height and hugeness. the first on the right was huichilobos (huitzilopochtli), their god of war. he had a big head and trunk, his eyes great and terrible, and so inlaid with precious stones that all his head and body shone with stars thereof. great snakes of gold and fine stones were girdled about his flanks; in one hand he held a bow, and arrows in the other, and a little idol called his page stood by his side.... thereby also were braziers, wherein burned the hearts of three indians, torn from their bodies that very day, and the smoke of them and the savour of incense were the sacrifice. the walls of this oratory were black and dripping with gouts of blood, and likewise the floor that stank horribly." such was the aspect of a mexican shrine before the spaniards introduced their faith. * for a brief account of sahagun and the fortunes of his book, see bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_, iii. , note . the references here to sahagun's own work are to the translation by mm. jourdanet and simeon, published by masson, paris, . bernal diaz is referred to in the french edition published by m. lemerre in . ** _veridique histoire_, chap, xcii. as to the mythical habits of the aztec olympians in general, sahagun observes that "they were friends of disguise, and changed themselves often into birds or savage beasts". hence he, or his informants, infer that the gods have originally been necromancers or medicine-men, now worshipped after death; a natural inference, as magical feats of shape-shifting are commonly ascribed "everywhere to witches and warlocks". as a matter of fact, the aztec gods, though bedizened with the attributes of mortal conjurors, and with the fur and feathers of totems, are, for the most part, the departmental deities of polytheism, each ruling over some province of nature or of human activity. combined with these are deities who, in their origin, were probably ideal culture-heroes, like yehl, or qat, or prometheus. the long and tedious myths of quetzalcoatl and tezcatlipoca appear to contain memories of a struggle between the gods or culture-heroes of rival races. such struggles were natural, and necessary, perhaps, before a kind of syncretism and a general tolerance could unite in peace the deities of a realm composed of many tribes originally hostile. in a cultivated people, made up out of various conquered and amalgamated tribes, we must expect polytheism, because their olympus is a kind of divine representative assembly. anything like monotheism, in such a state, must be the result of philosophic reflection. "a laughable matter it is," says bernal diaz, "that in each province the indians have their gods, and the gods of one province or town are of no profit to the people of another. thus have they an infinite number of idols, to each of which they sacrifice."* * bernal diaz, chap. xcii. he might have described, in the same words, the local gods of the egyptian nomes, for a similar state of things preceded, and to some extent survived, the syncretic efforts of egyptian priesthood. meanwhile, the _teocallis_, or temples of mexico, gave hospitable shelter to this mixed multitude of divinities. hard by huitzilopochtli was tezcatlipoca (tezcatepuca, bernal calls him), whose chapel "stank worse than all the shambles of castile". he had the face of a bear and shining eyes, made of mirrors called _tezcut_. he was understood by bernal to be the mexican hades, or warden of the dead. not far off was an idol, half-human and half-lizard, "the god of fruits and harvest, i remember not his name," and all his chapel walls dripped blood. in the medley of such a pantheon, it is difficult to arrange the deities on any principle of order. beginning with huitzilopochtli, as perhaps the most famous, it is to be observed that he indubitably became and was recognised as a god of battles, and that he was also the guide and protector who (according to the aztec painted scriptures) led the wandering fathers through war and wilderness to the promised land of mexico. his birth was one of those miraculous conceptions which we have seen so frequently in the myths and _märchen_ of the lower and the higher races. it was not by swallowing a berry, as in finland, but by cherishing in her bosom a flying ball of feathers that the devout woman, coatlicue, became the mother of huitzilopochtli. all armed he sprang to the light, like athene from the head of zeus, and slew his brothers that had been born by natural generation. from that day he received names of dread, answering to _deimos_ and _phobos_.* * clavigero, _staria ant. del mexico_, ii. , ; bancroft, iii. . by another myth, euhemeristic in character, huitziton (the name is connected with _huitzilin_, the humming-bird) was the leader of the aztecs in their wanderings. on his death or translation, his skull gave oracles, like the head of bran in the welsh legend. sahagun, in the first page of his work, also euhemerises huitzilopochtli, and makes him out to have been a kind of hercules _doublé_ with a medicine-man; but all this is mere conjecture. the position of huitzilopochtli as a war-god, guardian and guide through the wilderness is perfectly established, and it is nearly as universally agreed that his name connects him with the humming-bird, which his statue wore on its left foot. he also carried a green bunch of plumage upon his head, shaped like the bill of a small bird now, as j. g. müller has pointed out, the legend and characteristics of huitzilopochtli are reproduced, by a coincidence startling even in mythology, in the legend and characteristics of picus in latium. just as huitzilopochtli wore the humming-bird indicated by his name on his foot, so picus was represented with the woodpecker of his name on his head.* * j. g. muller, _uramerik. rel_., p. . on the subject of picus one may consult ovid, _metamorph_, xiv. . here the story runs that circe loved picus, whom she met in the woods. he disdained her caresses, and she turned him into the woodpecker, "with his garnet head". "et fulvo cervix pnecingitur auro." according to virgil (j. sn., vii. ), the statue of this picus was settled in an old laurentian temple or palace of unusual sanctity, surrounded by images of the earlier gods. the woodpeckers, _pici_, are known _martio cognomine_, says pliny ( , , , § ), and so connected with the roman war-god, _picas martius_. in his romische mythologie, i. , , preller makes no use of these materials for comparison, though the conduct and character of the other beast of war, the wolf, as guide and protector of the hirpi (wolves), and worshipped by them with wolf-dances, is an obvious survival of totemism. the picini have their animal leader, picus, the woodpecker, the hirpi have their animal leader, the wolf, just as the humming-bird was the leader of the aztecs. in these latin legends, as in the legends of huit-zilopochtli, the basis, as j. g. müller sees, is the bird--the humming-bird in one case, the woodpecker in the other. the bird is then euhemerised or brought into anthropomorphic form. it is fabled that he was originally a man (like picus before circe enchanted him to a bird's shape), or, in mexico, a man named huitziton, who during the aztec migrations heard and pursued a little bird that cried "tinni," that is, "follow, follow".* now we are all familiar with classical legends of races that were guided by a bird or beast to their ultimate seats. müller mentions battus and the raven, the chalcidians and the dove, the cretans and the dolphin, which was apollo, cadmus and the cow; the hirpi, or wolves, who followed the wolf. in the same way the picini followed the woodpecker, _picus_, from whom they derived their name, and carried a woodpecker on their banners. thus we may connect both the sabine war-gods and the bird of the mexican war-gods with the many guiding and protecting animals which occur in fable. now a guiding and protecting animal is almost a synonym for a totem. that the sabine woodpecker had been a totem may be pretty certainly established on the evidence of plutarch. the people called by his name (picini) declined, like totemists everywhere, to eat their holy bird, in this case the woodpecker.** * bancroft, iii. , note, quoting torquemada. ** quoest. rom., xxi. the inference is that the humming-bird whose name enters into that of huitzilopochtli, and whose feathers were worn on his heel, had been the totem of an aztec kindred before huitzilopochtli, like picus, was anthropomorphised. on the other hand, if huitzilopochtli was once the baiame of the aztecs, their guide in their wanderings, he might, in myth, be mixed up with a totem or other worshipful animal. "before this god was represented in human form, he was merely a little humming-bird, huitziton; but as the anthropomorphic processes advanced, the bird became an attribute, emblem, or symbol of the deity."* if huitzilopochtli is said to have given the aztecs fire, that boon is usually regarded by many races, from normandy to australia, as the present given to men by a bird; for example, the fire-crested wren.** thus understood, the ornithological element in huitzilopochtli is purely totemic. while accepting the reduction of him to a hummingbird, m. reville ingeniously concludes that he was "a derivative form of the sun, and especially of the sun of the fair season". if the bird was worshipped, it was not as a totem, but as "the divine messenger of the spring," like "the plover among the latins".*** attempts have been made, with no great success, to discover the cosmical character of the god from the nature of his feasts. * j. g. muller, op. cit. i. p. . ** bosquet, la normandie merveilleuse, paris, ; brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, vol. i.; kuhn, herabkunft, p. ; journal anthrop. inst., november, ; sproat, savage life (the cuttlefish), p. ; bancroft, iii. . *** hibbert lectures, , english trans., pp. , . the woodpecker seems a better latin example than the plover. the mexican calendar, "the aztec year," as described at considerable length by sahagun, was a succession of feasts, marked by minute and elaborate rites of a magical character. the gods of rain were frequently propitiated, so was the goddess of maize, the mountain god, the mother of the gods, and many other divinities. the general theory of worship was the adoration of a deity, first by innumerable human sacrifices, next by the special sacrifice of a man for male gods, of a woman for each goddess. the latter victims were regarded as the living images or incarnations of the divinities in each case; for no system of worship carried farther the identification of the god with the sacrifice, and of both with the officiating priest. the connection was emphasised by the priest's wearing the newly-flayed skins of the victims, just as in greece, egypt and assyria the fawn-skin, or bull-hide, or goat-skin, or fish-skin of the victims is worn by the celebrants. finally, an image of the god was made out of paste, and this was divided into morsels and eaten in a hideous sacrament by those who communicated.* * copious details as to the sacraments, human sacrifices, paste figures of gods, and identity of god and victim, will be found in sahagun's second and third books. the _magical_ character of the ritual deserves particular attention. see many examples of gods made of flour and eaten in liebrecht's _zur volkskunde_, "der aufgegessene gott," p. . it will be noted that the feasts of the corn goddess, like the rites of demeter, were celebrated with torch-dances. the ritual of the month quecholli (iii. , ) is a mere medicine hunt, as tanner and the red indians call it, a procuring of magical virtue for the arrows, as in the zuni mysteries to- day. compare _report of bureau of ethnology_, vol. ii., "zuni prey gods". from the special ritual of huitzilopochtli mr. tylor conjectures that this "inextricable compound parthenogenetic god may have been originally" a nature deity whose life and death were connected with the year".* this theory is based on the practice at the feast called panquetzaliztli.** "his paste idol was shot through with an arrow," says mr. tylor, "and being thus killed, was divided into morsels and eaten; wherefore the ceremony was called _teoqualo_, or 'god-eating,' and this was associated with the winter solstice." m. reville says that this feast coincided with our month of december, the beginning of the cold and dry season, huitzilopochtli would die with the verdure, the flowers and all the beauteous adornments of spring and summer; but like adonis, like osiris, and so many other solar deities, he only died to live and to return again. before identifying him with the sun, it may be remarked that the aztec feast of the return of the gods was celebrated in the twelfth month and the paste sacrifice of huitzilopochtli was in the fifteenth. there were eighteen months in the aztec year, and the year began on the nd of february. the return of the gods was, therefore, in september, and the paste sacrifice of huitzilopochtli in december. clearly the god who dies in the winter solstice cannot be thought to "return" late in september. huitzilopochtli had another feast on the first day of the ninth month, that is, between june and july, when much use was made of floral decorations, and "they offered him the first flowers of the year," although flowers were used two months earlier, in the seventh month and in the fourth month.*** * _primitive culture_, ii. ; clavigero, _messico_, ii. , . ** sahagun, ii. , and appendix, iii. , . *** ibid. i. ii . but the mexican calendar is hard to deal with. müller places the feasts of huitzilopochtli in the middle of may, the middle of august, and the middle of december.* he combines his facts with a legend which made huitzilopochtli to be the son of the goddess of vegetation. j. g. müller's whole argument is learned and acute, but errs probably in attempting to extract a consecutive symbolical sense out of the chaos of myth. thus he writes: "when the myth makes the god the son of the mother of plants, it divides his essence from that of his mother, and thus huitzilopochtli, however closely akin to the plant world, is not the plant world itself ". this is to consider more curiously than the myth-makers. the name of the patron goddess of the flower-wearers in feasts was coatlicue or coatlan, which is also the name of the mother of huitzilopochtli; its meaning is "serpent petticoated".** * uramerik. rel. v. p. . ** sahagun, ii. when müller goes on to identify huitzilopochtli with the bunch of feathers that fell into his mother's breast before his birth, and that again with the humming-bird, and that again with the honey-sucking bird as the "means of fructifying the plants," and, finally, with the _männliche befrwchtende naturkraft_, we have left myth far behind, and are in a region of symbolism and abstract thought, where one conjecture is as good as another. the hypothesis is that men, feeling a sense of religious reverence for the germinal force in nature, took the humming-bird for its emblem, and so evolved the myth of the birth of huitzilopochtli, who at once fructifies and is born from the bosom of vernal nature. it would be rash and wrong to deny that such ideas are mixed in the medley of myth. but, as a rule, the sacred animal (as the humming-bird) is sacred first in itself, probably as a totem or as a guide and protector, and the symbolical sense is a forced interpretation put later on the facts.* we can hardly go farther, with safety, than the recognition of mingled aspects and elements in huitzilopochtli as the totem, the tribal god, the departmental war-god, and possibly he is the god of the year's progress and renewal. his legend and ritual are a conglomerate of all these things, a mass of ideas from many stages of culture. an abstract comparatively brief must suffice for the other aztec deities. tezcatlipoca is a god with considerable pretensions to an abstract and lofty divinity. his appearance was not prepossessing; his image, as bernal has described it, wore the head of a bear, and was covered with tiny mirrors.** various attributes, especially the mirror and a golden ear, showed him forth as the beholder of the conduct of men and the hearer of prayer. he was said, while he lived on earth, to have been a kind of ares in the least amiable aspect of the god, a maker of wars and discord.*** wealth and power were in his gift. he was credited with ability to destroy the world when he chose. seats were consecrated to him in the streets and the public places; on these might no man sit down. * compare maspero on "egyptian beast-gods," rev. de l'hist. des rel., vol. i. and chapter postea, on "egyptian divine myths". **the name means "shining mirror". acosta makes him the god of famine and pestilence (p. ). *** sahagun, i. . he was one of the two gods whose extraordinary birth, and death by "happy despatch," that their vitality might animate the motionless sun, have already been described.* tezcatlipoca, like most of the other gods, revived, and came back from the sky to earth. at a place called tulla he encountered another god or medicine-man, quetzalcoatl, and their legends become inextricably entangled in tales of trickery, animal metamorphosis, and perhaps in vague memories of tribal migrations. throughout tezcatlipoca brought grief on the people called toltecs, of whom quetzalcoatl was the divine culture-hero.** his statues, if we may believe acosta, did him little credit. "in cholula, which is a commonwealth of mexico, they worship a famous idol, which was the god of merchandise.... it had the forme of a man, but the visage of a little bird with a red bill and above a combe full of wartes."*** * _antea_, "myths of the origins of things ". ** sahagnn, iii. , . *** acosta, _nalurall and morall historic of the east and west indies_, london, . a ready way of getting a view of the mexican pantheon is to study sahagun's two books on the feasts of the gods, with their ritual. it will become manifest that the worship was a worship, on the whole, of departmental gods of the elements, of harvest, of various human activities, such as love and commerce, and war and agriculture. the nature of the worship, again, was highly practical. the ceremonies, when not mere offerings of human flesh, were commonly representations on earth of desirable things which the gods were expected to produce in the heavenly sphere. the common type of all such magical ceremonies, whereby like is expected to produce like, has been discussed in the remarks on magic (chapter iv.). the black smoke of sacrifice generates clouds; the pouring forth of water from a pitcher (as in the attic thesmophoria) induces the gods to pour forth rain. thus in mexico the rain-god (tlaloc, god of waters) was propitiated with sacrifices of children. "if the children wept and shed abundant tears, they who carried them rejoiced, being convinced that rain would also be abundant."* the god of the maize, again (cinteotl, son of the maize-goddess), had rites resembling those of the greek pyanepsion and eiresione. the aztecs used to make an image of the god, and offer it all manner of maize and beans.** curiously enough, the greeks also regarded their pyanepsion as a bean-feast. a more remarkable analogy is that of the peruvian mama cora, the figure of a goddess made of maize, which was asked "if it hath strength sufficient to continue until the next year," and of which the purpose was, "that the seed of the maize may not perish".*** this corn image of the corn goddess, preserved through all the year and replaced in the next year by a fresh image, is the attic (--------), a branch of olive hung with a loaf and with all the fruits of the season, and set up to stand for all the year in front of each house. "and it remains for a year, and when it is dry and withered next year they make a fresh one."**** * sahagun. ii. , . ** ibid., ii. , . *** acosta, hist nat., , p. . **** see schol. in aristoph. plut., , and other texts, quoted by mannhardt, _arntike waldund feld cultus_, ii. , note . children were sacrificed in mexico to this deity. in the rites of a goddess of harvest, as has been said, torches were borne by the dancers, as in the eleusinia; and in european and oriental folk-lore. demeter was the greek harvest goddess, in whose rites torches had a place. one of her names is demeter erinnys. mr. max müller recognises erinnys as the dawn. schwartz connects demeter erinnys with the thunderstorm. the torch in the hand of demeter is the lightning, according to schwartz. it is interesting, whether the torch be the torch of dawn, or of storm, or neither, to see the prevalence of these torch festivals in rural rites in mexico, greece and modern europe. the idea of the peasants is that the lights scare away evil spirits.** in the mexican rite, a woman, representing the goddess and dressed in her ornaments, was sacrificed. the same horrid ceremony accompanied the feast of the mother of the gods, teteo innan.*** in this rite the man who represented the son of the goddess wore a mask of the skin from the thigh of the female victim who had personated the goddess herself. the wearing of the skin established a kinship between the man and the woman, as in the many classical, ancient and savage rituals where the celebrants wear the hides of the sacrificed beasts. there was a god of storm called "cloudy serpent," mixcoatl, whose rites were not more humane. the mexican aphrodite was named _tlaçolteotl_,**** "the impure". * mannhardt, op. cit., ii. , i. , ; schwartz, _prähistorisch anthropologische studien_, p. . ** compare the french _jour des brandons_. ***see sahagun, ii. . **** ibid., i. . about her character the aztecs had no illusions. she listened to the confessions of the most loathsome sinners, whom she perhaps first tempted to err, and then forgave and absolved. confession was usually put off till people had ceased to be likely to sin. she is said to have been the wife of tlaloc, carried off by tezcatlipoca. "she must have been the aquatic vegetation of marshy lands," says m. roville, "possessed by the god of waters till the sun dries her up and she disappears." this is an amusing example of modern ingenuity. it resembles m. reville's assertion that tlaloc, the rain-god, "had but one eye, which shows that he must be ultimately identified as an ancient personification of the rainy sky, whose one eye is the sun". a rainy sky has usually no "eye" at all, and, when it has, in this respect it does not differ from a cloudless sky. a less lovely set of olympians than the aztec gods it is difficult to conceive. yet, making every allowance for catholic after-thoughts, there can be no doubt that the prayers, penances and confessions described at length by sahagun indicate a firm mexican belief that even these strange deities "made for righteousness," loved good, and, in this world and the next, punished evil. however it happened, whatever accidents of history or of mixture of the races in the dim past caused it, the aztecs carried to extremes the religious and the mythical ideas. they were exceedingly pious in their attitude of penitence and prayer; they were more fierce and cruel in ritual, more fantastic in myth, than the wildest of tribes, tameless and homeless, ignorant of agriculture or of any settled and assured existence. even the inquisition of the spanishof the sixteenth century was an improvement on the unheard-of abominations of mexican ritual. as in all fully developed polytheisms of civilised races among the aztecs we lose sight of the moral primal being of low savage races. he is obscured by deities of a kind not yet evolved in the lowest culture. chapter xvi. the mythology of egypt antiquity of egypt--guesses at origin of the people-- chronological views of the religion--permanence and changes-- local and syncretic worship--elements of pure belief and of totemism--authorities for facts--monuments and greek reports--contending theories of modern authors--study of the gods, their beasts, their alliances and mutations--evidence of ritual--a study of the osiris myth and of the development of osiris-savage and theological elements in the myth--moral aspect of the religion--conclusion. even to the ancients egypt was antiquity, and the greeks sought in the dateless mysteries of the egyptian religion for the fountain of all that was most mysterious in their own. curiosity about the obscure beginnings of human creeds and the first knowledge of the gods was naturally aroused by that spectacle of the pantheon of egypt. her highest gods were abstractions, swathed, like the involuti of the etrurians, in veils of mystic doctrine; yet in the most secret recess of her temples the pious beheld "a crocodile, a cat, or a serpent, a beast rolling on a purple couch".* * clem. alex., _pædagog_., iii. ( ). in egypt, the earlier ages and the later times beheld a land dominated by the thought of death, whose shadow falls on the monarch on his crowning day, whose whisper bids him send to far-off shores for the granite and the alabaster of the tomb. as life was ruled by the idea of death; so was fact conquered by dream, and all realities hastened to lose themselves in symbols; all gods rushed to merge their identity in the sun, as moths fly towards the flame of a candle. this spectacle of a race obedient to the dead and bowing down before the beasts, this procession of gods that were their own fathers and members together in ra, wakened the interest of the greeks, who were even more excited by the mystery of extreme age that hid the beginnings of egypt. full of their own memories and legends of tribal movements, of migrations, of invasions, the greeks acknowledged themselves children of yesterday in face of a secular empire with an origin so remote that it was scarcely guessed at in the conjectures of fable. egypt presented to them, as to us, the spectacle of antique civilisation without a known beginning. the spade of to-day reveals no more than the traditions of two thousand years ago. the most ancient relics of the earliest dynasty are the massive works of an organised society and an accomplished art. there is an unbridged interval between the builders of the mysterious temple hard by the sphinx and their predecessors, the chippers of palaeolithic flint axes in the river drift. we know not whence the egyptians came; we only trifle with hypotheses when we conjecture that her people are of an asiatic or an african stock; we know not whether her gods arose in the fertile swamps by nile-side, or whether they were borne in arks, like the huitzilopochtli of mexico, from more ancient seats by the piety of their worshippers. yet as one great river of mysterious source flows throughout all egypt, so through the brakes and jungles of her religion flows one great myth from a distant fountain-head, the myth of osiris.* * as to the origin of the egyptians, the prevalent belief among the ancients was that they had descended the nile from the interior of africa. cf. diodorus siculus, iii. . modern theorists occasionally lean in this direction. dumichen, _geschichte des alien Ægyptiens_, i. . again, an attempt has been made to represent them as successful members of a race whereof the bushmen of south africa are the social failures. m. maspero conceives, once more, that the egyptians were "proto-semitic," ethnologically related to the people of eastern asia, and the grammar of their language has semitic affinities. but the connection, if it ever existed, is acknowledged to be extremely remote. maspero, _hist, de l'orient_, th edit., p. . de rouge writes, "tout nous ramène vers la parenté primitive de mitsraim (egyptains) et de canaan" (_recherches sur les muniments_, p. ). the questions which we have to ask in dealing with the mythology of egypt come under two heads: first, what was the nature of egyptian religion and myth? secondly, how did that complex mass of beliefs and practices come into existence? the question, _what was the religion of egypt?_ is far from simple. in a complete treatise on the topic, it would be necessary to ask in reply, at what period, in what place, and among what classes of society did the religion exist which you wish to investigate? the ancient egyptian religion had a lifetime so long that it almost requires to be meted by the vague measures of geological time. it is historically known to us, by the earliest monuments, about the date at which archbishop usher fixed the creation. even then, be it noticed, the religion of egypt was old and full-grown; there are no historical traces of its beginnings. like the material civilisation, it had been fashioned by the unrecorded _sheshoa hor_, "the servants of horus," patriarchs dwelling with the blessed. in the four or five thousand years of its later existence, egyptian religion endured various modifications.* it was a conservative people, and schooled by the wisdom of the sepulchre. but invaders, semitic, ethiopian and greek, brought in some of their own ideas. priestly colleges developed novel dogmas, and insensibly altered ritual the thought of hundreds of generations of men brooded, not fruitlessly, over the problems of the divine nature. finally, it is likely that in egypt, as elsewhere, the superstitions of the least educated and most backward classes, and of subject peoples on a lower level of civilisation, would again and again break up, and win their way to the surface of religion. thus a complete study of egyptian faiths would be chronological--would note the setting and rising of the stars of elder and later deities. * professor lieblein, maintaining this view, opposes the statement of mr. le page renouf, who writes: "the earliest monuments which have been discovered present to us the very same fully developed civilisation and the same religion as the later monuments" (_hib. lectures_, , p. ). but it is superfluous to attack a position which mr. le page renouf does not appear really to hold. he admits the existence of development and evolution in egyptian religious thought "i believe, therefore, that, after closely approaching the point at which polytheism might have turned into monotheism, the religious thought of egypt turned aside into a wrong track" (op. cit, p. ). the method of a systematic history of egyptian religion would not be regulated by chronology alone. topographical and social conditions would also claim attention. the favoured god or gods of one nome (administrative district), or of one town, or of one sacred metropolis, were not the gods of another metropolis, or town, or nome, though some deities were common to the whole country. the fundamental character might be much the same in each case, but the titles, and aspects, and ritual, and accounts of the divine genealogy varied in each locality. once more, the "syncretic" tendency kept fusing into one divine name and form, or into a family triad of gods (mother, father and son), the deities of different districts, which, beneath their local peculiarities, theologians could recognise as practically the same. while political events and local circumstances were thus modifying egyptian religion, it must never be forgotten that the different classes of society were probably by no means at one in their opinions. the monuments show us what the kings believed, or at least what the kings practised, record the prayers they uttered and the sacrifices they offered. the tombs and the papyri which contain the _book of the dead_ and other kindred works reveal the nature of belief in a future life, with the changes which it underwent at different times. but the people, the vast majority, unlettered and silent, cannot tell us what _they_ believed, or what were their favourite forms of adoration. we are left to the evidence of amulets, of books of magic, of popular tales, surviving on a papyrus here and there, and to the late testimony of greek writers--herodotus, diodorus, the author of the treatise _de osiride et hide_, and others. while the clergy of the twentieth dynasty were hymning the perfections of ammon ra--"so high that man may not attain unto him, dweller in the hidden place, him whose image no man has beheld"--the peasant may have been worshipping, like a modern zulu, the serpents in his hovel, or may have been adoring the local sacred cat of his village, or flinging stones at the local sacred crocodile of his neighbours. to the enlightened in the later empire, perhaps to the remotest unknown ancestors also, god was self-proceeding, self-made, manifest in the deities that were members together in him of godhead. but the peasant, if he thinks of the gods at all, thinks of them walking the earth, like our lord and the saints in the norse nursery tales, to amuse themselves with the adventures of men. the peasant spoke of the seven hathors, that come like fairy godmothers to the cradle of each infant, and foretell his lot in life.* * compare maspero, _hist, de l'orient_., th edit., pp. - , for the priestly hymns and the worship of beasts. "the lofty thoughts remained the property of a small number of priests and instructed people; they did not penetrate the mass of the population. far from that, the worship of animals, goose, swallow, cat, serpent, had many more followers than amnion ra could count." see also tiele, _manuel de l'hist. des rel._, paris, , pp. , . for the folk-lore of wandering gods see maspero, _contes egyptiens_, paris, , p. . it is impossible, of course, to write here a complete history of egyptian religion, as far as it is to be extracted from the books and essays of learned moderns; but it has probably been made clear that when we speak of the religion and mythology of egypt, we speak of a very large and complicated subject. plainly this is a topic which the lay student will find full of pitfalls, and on which even scholars may well arrive at contradictory opinions. to put the matter briefly, where one school finds in the gods and the holy menagerie of egyptian creeds the corruption of a primitive monotheism, its opponents see a crowd of survivals from savagery combined with clearer religious ideas, which are the long result of civilised and educated thought.* both views may be right in part. * the english leader of the former school, the believer in a primitive purity, corrupted and degraded but not extinguished, is mr. le page renouf (_hibbert lectures_, london, ). it is not always very easy to make out what side mr. le page renouf does take. for example, in his _hibbert lectures_, p. , he speaks somewhat sympathetically of the "very many eminent scholars, who, with full knowledge of all that can be said to the contrary, maintain that the egyptian religion is essentially monotheistic". he himself says that "a power without a name or any mythological characteristic is constantly referred to in the singular number, and can only be regarded as the object of that _sensus numinis_, or immediate perception of the infinite." which is "the result of an intuition as irresistible as the impressions of our senses". if this be not primitive instinctive monotheism, what is it? yet mr. le page renouf says that egyptian polytheism, after closely approaching the point where it might have become monotheism, went off on a wrong track; so the egyptians after all were polytheists, not monotheists (op. cit., p. ). of similar views are the late illustrious vicomte de rouge, m. mariette, m. pierret, and brugsch pasha (_rel. und myth, der alien egypter_, vol i., leipzig, ). on the other side, on the whole regarding egyptian creeds as a complex mass of early uncivilised and popular ideas, with a later priestly religion tending towards pantheism and monotheism, are m. maspero, professor tiele, professor lieblein (english readers may consult his pamphlet, _egyptian religion_, leipzig, ), m. edward meyer, (_geschichte des alterthums_, stuttgart, ), herr pietsch. mann (_zeitschrtftfur ethnologic_, berlin, , art. "fetisch dienst"), and professor tiele (_manuel de l'histoire des religions_, paris, , and "_history of egyptian religion, english translation_, ). after this preamble let us endeavour to form a general working idea of what egyptian religion was as a whole. what kind of religion did the israelites see during the sojourn in egypt, or what presented itself to the eyes of herodotus? unluckily we have no such eye-witnesses of the earlier egyptian as bernal diaz was of the aztec temples. the bible says little that is definite about the theological "wisdom of the egyptians". when confronted with the sacred beasts, herodotus might have used with double truth the greek saw: "a great ox has trod upon my tongue".* but what herodotus hinted at or left unsaid is gathered from the evidence of tombs and temple walls and illuminated papyri. one point is certain. whatever else the religion of egypt may at any time have been, it struck every foreign observer as polytheism.** moreover, it was a polytheism like another. the greeks had no difficulty, for example, in recognising amongst these beast-headed monsters gods analogous to their own. this is demonstrated by the fact that to almost every deity of egypt they readily and unanimously assigned a greek divine name. seizing on a certain aspect of osiris and of his mystery-play, they made him dionysus; hor became apollo; ptah, hephaestus: ammon ra, zeus; thoth, hermes, and so on with the rest. the egyptian deities were recognised as divine beings, with certain (generally ill-defined) departments of nature and of human activity under their care. some of them, like seb (earth) and nut (heaven), were esteemed elemental forces or phenomena, and were identified with the same personal phenomena or forces, uranus and gæa, in the greek system, where heaven and earth were also parents of many of the gods. * Æschylus, _agamemnon_, , (--------) ** maspero, musée de boulaq, p. ; le page renouf, hib. led., pp. , . thus it is indisputably clear that egyptian religion had a polytheistic aspect, or rather, as maspero says, was "a well-marked polytheism"; that in this regard it coincided with other polytheisms, and that this element must be explained in the egyptian, as it is explained in the greek or the aztec, or the peruvian or the maori religion.* now an explanation has already been offered in the mythologies previously examined. some gods have been recognised, like rangi and papa, the maori heaven and earth (nut and seb), as representatives of the old personal earth and heaven, which commend themselves to the barbaric fancy. other gods are the informing and indwelling spirits of other phenomena, of winds or sea or woods. others, again, whatever their origin, preside over death, over the dead, over the vital functions, such as love, or over the arts of life, such as agriculture; and these last gods of departments of human activity were probably in the beginning culture-heroes, real, or more likely ideal, the first teachers of men. * "it is certainly erroneous to consider egyptian religion as a polytheistic corruption of a prehistoric monotheism. it is more correct to say that, while polytheistic in principle, the religion developed in two absolutely opposite directions. on one side, the constant introduction of new gods, local or foreign; on the other, a groping after a monotheism never absolutely reached. the learned explained the crowd of gods as so many incarnations of the one hidden uncreated deity."--tiele, _manuel de l'histoire des religions_, p. . in polytheisms of long standing all these attributes and functions have been combined and reallotted, and the result we see in that confusion which is of the very essence of myth. each god has many birth-places, one has many sepulchres, all have conflicting genealogies. if these ideas about other polytheisms be correct, then it is probable that they explain to a great extent the first principles of the polytheism of egypt they explain at least the factors in egyptian religion, which the greeks recognised as analogous with their own, and which are found among polytheists of every degree of culture, from new zealand to hellas. if ever ptah, or any other name, represented "our father" as he is known to the most backward races, he was buried into the background by gods evolved from ghosts, by departmental gods, and by the gods of races amalgamated in the course of conquest and settlement. leaving on one side, then, for the moment, the vast system of ancestor-worship and of rites undertaken for the benefit of the dead, and leaving aside the divinity of the king, polytheism was the most remarkable feature of egyptian religion. the foreign traveller in the time of the pyramid-builders, as in the time of ramses ii., or of the ptolemies, or of the roman domination, would have found a crowd of gods in receipt of honour and of sacrifice. he would have learned that one god was most adored in one locality, another in another, that ammon ra was predominant in thebes; ra, the sun-god, in heliopolis; osiris in abydos, and so forth. he would also have observed that certain animals were sacred to certain gods, and that in places where each beast was revered, his species was not eaten, though it might blamelessly be cooked and devoured in the neighbouring nome or district, where another animal was dominant. everywhere, in all nomes and towns, the adoration of osiris, chiefly as the god and redeemer of the dead, was practised.* * on the different religions of different nomes, and especially the animal worship, see pietschmann, _der Ægyptische fetischdienst und götterglaube, zeitschrtft für ethnologie_, , p. . while these are the general characteristics of egyptian religion, there were inevitably many modifications in the course of five thousand years. if one might imagine a traveller endowed, like the wandering jew, with endless life, and visiting egypt every thousand, or every five hundred years, we can fancy some of the changes in religion which he would observe. on the whole, from the first dynasty and the earliest monuments to the time when hor came to wear a dress like that of a roman centurion, the traveller would find the chief figures of the pantheon recognisably the same. but there would be novelties in the manner of worshipping and of naming or representing them. "in the oldest tombs, where the oldest writings are found, there are not many gods mentioned--there are osiris, horus, thot, seb, nut, hathor, anubis, apheru, and a couple more."* here was a stock of gods who remained in credit till "the dog anubis" fled from the star of bethlehem. most of these deities bore birth-marks of the sky and of the tomb. if osiris was "the sun-god of abydos," he was also the murdered and mutilated culture-hero. if hor or horus was the sun at his height, he too had suffered despiteful usage from his enemies. seb and nut (named on the coffin of mycerinus of the fourth dynasty in the british museum) were our old friends the personal heaven and earth. anubis, the jackal, was "the lord of the grave," and dead kings are worshipped no less than gods who were thought to have been dead kings. while certain gods, who retained permanent power, appear in the oldest monuments, sacred animals are also present from the first. * lieblein, _egyptian religion_, p. . the gods, in fact, of the earliest monuments were beasts. here is one of the points in which a great alteration developed itself in the midst of egyptian religion. till the twelfth dynasty, when a god is mentioned (and in those very ancient remains gods are not mentioned often), "he is represented by his animal, or with the name spelled out in hieroglyphs, often beside the bird or beast".* "the jackal stands for anup (anubis), the frog for hekt, the baboon for tahuti (thoth). it is not till after semitic influence had begun to work in the country that any figures of gods are found." by "figures of gods" are meant the later man-shaped or semi-man-shaped images, the hawk-headed, jackal-headed, and similar representations with which we are familiar in the museums. the change begins with the twelfth dynasty, but becomes most marked under the eighteenth. "during the ancient empire," says m. maspero, "i only find monuments at four points--at memphis, at abydos, in some parts of middle egypt, at sinai, and in the valley of hammamat. the divine names appear but occasionally, in certain unvaried formulæ. under the eleventh and twelfth dynasties lower egypt comes on the scene. the formulæ are more explicit, but the religious monuments rare. from the eighteenth dynasty onwards, we have _representations_ of all the deities, accompanied by legends more or less developed, and we begin to discover books of ritual, hymns, amulets, and other objects."** there are also sacred texts in the pyramids. * flinders petrie, _arts of ancient egypt_, p. . ** _revue de l'histoire des religions_, i. . other changes, less important than that which turned the beast-god into a divine man or woman, often beast-headed, are traced in the very earliest ages. the ritual of the holy bulls (hapi, apis) makes its official appearance under the fourth king of the first, and the first king of the second dynasties.* mr. le page renouf, admitting this, thinks the great development of bull-worship later.** in the third dynasty the name of ra, sun, comes to be added to the royal names of kings, as nebkara, noferkara, and so forth.*** osiris becomes more important than the jackal-god as the guardian of the dead. sokar, another god of death, shows a tendency to merge himself in osiris. with the successes of the eighteenth dynasty in thebes, the process of _syncretism_, by which various god-names and god-natures are mingled, so as to unite the creeds of different nomes and provinces, and blend all in the worship of the theban ammon ra, is most notable. now arise schools of theology; pantheism and an approach to monotheism in the theban god become probable results of religious speculations and imperial success. these tendencies are baffled by the break-up of the theban supremacy, but the monotheistic idea remains in the esoteric dogmas of priesthoods, and survives into neo-platonism. special changes are introduced--now, as in the case of worship of the solar disk by a heretic king; earlier, as in the prevalence of set-worship, perhaps by semitic invaders.**** * brugsch, _history of egypt_, english transl., i. , . ** hib. lect., pp. , . *** op. cit. i. p. . **** for khunaten, and his heresy of the disk in thebes, see brugsch, op. cit., i. . it had little or no effect on myth. tiele says (_hist. egypt. rel._, p. ), "from the most remote antiquity set is one of the osirian circle, and is thus a genuine egyptian deity". it is impossible here to do more than indicate the kind of modification which egyptian religion underwent. throughout it remained constant in certain features, namely, the _local_ character of its gods, their usefulness to the dead (their _chthonian_ aspect), their tendency to be merged into the sun, ra, the great type and symbol and source of life, and, finally, their inability to shake off the fur and feathers of the beasts, the earliest form of their own development. thus life, death, sky, sun, bird, beast and man are all blended in the religious conceptions of egypt. here follow two hymns to osiris, hymns of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties, which illustrate the confusion of lofty and almost savage ideas, the coexistence of notions from every stage of thought, that make the puzzle of egyptian mythology. "hail to thee, osiris, eldest son of seb, greatest of the six deities born of nut, chief favourite of thy father, ra, the father of fathers; king of time, master of eternity; one in his manifestations, terrible. when he left the womb of his mother he united all the crowns, he fixed the urseus (emblem of sovereignty) on his head. god of many shapes, god of the unknown name, thou who hast many names in many provinces; if ra rises in the heavens, it is by the will of osiris; if he sets, it is at the sight of his glory."* in another hymn** osiris is thus addressed: "king of eternity, great god, risen from the waters that were in the beginning, strong hawk, king of gods, master of souls, king of terrors, lord of crowns, thou that art great in hnes, that dost appear at mendes in the likeness of a ram, monarch of the circle of gods, king of amenti (hades), revered of gods and men, who so knoweth humility and reckoneth deeds of righteousness, thereby knows he osiris."*** * from abydos, nineteenth dynasty. maspero, _musee de boulaq_, pp. , . ** twentieth dynasty. _op. cit._, p. . *** "this phase of religious thought," says mr. page renouf, speaking of what he calls _monotheism_, "is chiefly presented to us in a large number of hymns, beginning with the earliest days of the eighteenth dynasty. it is certainly much more ancient, but.... none of the hymns of that time have come down to us." see a very remarkable pantheistic hymn to osiris, "lord of holy transformations," in a passage cited, _hib. lect_., p. , and the hymns to amnion ra, "closely approaching the language of monotheism," pp. , . excellent examples of pantheistic litanies of ra are translated from originals of the nineteenth dynasty, in _records of the past_, viii. - . the royal osiris is identified with ra. here, too, it is told how ra smote apap, the serpent of evil, the egyptian ahi. here the noblest moral sentiments are blended with oriental salutations in the worship of a god who, for the moment, is recognised as lord of lords, but who is also a ram at mendes. this apparent confusion of ideas, and this assertion of supremacy for a god who, in the next hymn, is subjected to another god, mark civilised polytheism; but the confusion was increased by the extreme age of the egyptian faith, and by the doubt that prevailed as to the meaning of tradition. "the seventeenth chapter of the _book of the dead_" which seems to contain a statement of the system of the universe as understood at heliopolis under the first dynasties, "is known to us by several examples of the eleventh and twelfth dynasties." _each of the verses had already been interpreted in three or four different ways_; so different, that, according to one school, the creator, _râ-show_, was the solar fire; according to another school, not the fire, but the waters! the _book of the dead_, in fact, is no book, but collections of pamphlets, so to speak, of very different dates. "plan or unity cannot be expected," and glosses only some four thousand years old have become imbedded in really ancient texts.* fifteen centuries later the number of interpretations had considerably increased.** where the egyptians themselves were in helpless doubt, it would be vain to offer complete explanations of their opinions and practices in detail; but it is possible, perhaps, to account for certain large elements of their beliefs, and even to untie some of the knots of the osirian myth. the strangest feature in the rites of egypt was animal-worship, which appeared in various phases. there was the local adoration of a beast, a bird, or fish, to which the neighbours of other districts were indifferent or hostile. there was the presence of the animal in the most sacred _penetralia_ of the temple; and there was the god conceived of, on the whole, as anthropomorphic, but often represented in art, after the twelfth dynasty, as a man or woman with the head of a bird or beast.*** * cf. tiele, _hist egypt_. rel., pp. - , and notes. ** maspero, _musee de boulaq_, p. . *** as to the animals which were sacred and might not be eaten in various nomes, an account will be found in wilkinson's _ancient egyptians_, ii. . the english reader will find many beast-headed gods in the illustrations to vol. iii. the edition referred to is birch's, london, . a more scientific authority is lanzoni, _dizion. mit_. these points in egyptian religion have been the great puzzle both of antiquity and of modern mythology. the common priestly explanations varied. sometimes it was said that the gods had concealed themselves in the guise of beasts during the revolutionary wars of set against horus.* often, again, animal-worship was interpreted as symbolical; it was not the beast, but the qualities which he personified that were adored.** thus anubis, really a jackal, is a dog, in the explanations of plutarch, and is said to be worshipped for his fidelity, or because he can see in the night, or because he is the image of time. "as he brought forth all things out of himself, and contains all things within himself, he gets the title of dog."*** once more, and by a nearer approach to what is probably the truth, the beast-gods were said to be survivals of the badges (representing animals) of various tribal companies in the forces of osiris. such were the ideas current in graeco-roman speculation, nor perhaps is there any earlier evidence as to the character of native interpretation of animal-worship. the opinion has also been broached that beast-worship in egypt is a refraction from the use of hieroglyphs. if the picture of a beast was one of the signs in the writing of a god's name, adoration might be transferred to the beast from the god. it is by no means improbable that this process had its share in producing the results.**** some of the explanations of animal-worship which were popular of old are still in some favour. * de is. et os., lxxii. ** op. cit., xi. *** ibid., xliv. **** pietschmann, op. cit., p. , contends that the animal-worship is older than these egyptian modes of writing the divine names, say of amnion ra or hathor. moreover, the signs were used in writing the names because the gods were conceived of in these animal shapes. mr. le page renouf appears to hold that there was something respectably mythical in the worship of the inhabitants of zoological and botanical gardens, something holy apparent at least to the devout.* he quotes the opinion attributed to apollonius of tyana, that the beasts were symbols of deity, not deities, and this was the view of "a grave opponent". mr. le page renouf also mentions porphyry's theory, that "under the semblance of animals the egyptians worship the universal power which the gods have revealed in the various forms of living nature".** it is evident, of course, that all of these theories may have been held by the learned in egypt, especially after the christian era, in the times of apollonius and porphyry; but that throws little light on the motives and beliefs of the pyramid-builders many thousands of years before, or of the contemporary peasants with their worship of cats and alligators. in short, the systems of symbolism were probably made after the facts, to account for practices whose origin was obscure. yet another hypothesis is offered by mr. le page renouf, and in the case of set and the hippopotamus is shared by m. maspero. tiele also remarks that some beasts were promoted to godhead comparatively late, because their names resembled names of gods.*** * _hibbert lectures_, pp. , . ** _de abst_., iv. c. . *** _theolog. tidjsch_., th year, p. . the gods, in certain cases, received their animal characteristics by virtue of certain unconscious puns or mistakes in the double senses of words. seb is the earth. seb is also the egyptian name for a certain species of goose, and, in accordance with the _homonymous_ tendency of the mythological period of all nations, the god and the bird were identified.* seb was called "the great cackler".** again, the god thoth was usually represented with the head of an ibis. a mummied ibis "in the human form is made to represent the god thoth".*** this connection between thoth and the ibis mr. le page renouf explains at some length as the result of an etymological confusion.**** thus metaphorical language reacted upon thought, and, as in other religions, obtained the mastery. while these are the views of a distinguished modern egyptologist, another egyptologist, not less distinguished, is of an entirely opposite opinion as to the question on the whole. "it is possible, nay, certain," writes m. maspero, "that during the second theban empire the learned priests may have thought it well to attribute a symbolical sense to certain bestial deities. but whatever they may have worshipped in thoth-ibis, it was a bird, and not a hieroglyph, that the first worshippers of the ibis adored."***** m. meyer is of the same opinion, and so are professor tiele and m. perrot.****** * for a statement of the theory of "homonymous tendency," see selected essays, max müller, i. , . for a criticism of the system, see mythology in encyclop, brit., or in la mythologie, a. lang, paris, . ** hibbert lectures, , p. . *** wilkinson, iii. . **** op. cit., pp. , , . ***** revue de v histoire des religions, vol. i. ****** meyer, oeschichte des alterthums, p. ; tiele, manuel, p. ; perrot and chipiez, egyptian art, english transl., i. . hist. egypt. rel., pp. , . tiele finds the origin of this animal-worship in "animism," and supposes that the original colonists or conquerors from asia found it prevalent in and adopted it from an african population. professor tiele does not appear, when he wrote this chapter, to have observed the world-wide diffusion of animal-worship in totem ism, for he says, "nowhere else does the worship of animals prevail so extensively as among african peoples". while the learned have advanced at various periods these conflicting theories of the origin of egyptian animal-worship, a novel view was introduced by mr. m'lennan. in his essays on _plant and animal worship_, he regarded egyptian animal-worship as only a consecrated and elaborate survival of totemism. mr. le page renouf has ridiculed the "school-boy authorities on which mr. m'lennan relied".* nevertheless, mr. m'lennan's views are akin to those to which m. maspero and mm. perrot and chipiez are attached, and they have also the support of professor sayce. "these animal forms, in which a later myth saw the shapes assumed by the affrighted gods during the great war between horus and typhon, take us back to a remote prehistoric age, when the religious creed of egypt was still totemism. they are survivals from a long-forgotten past, and prove that egyptian civilisation was of slow and independent growth, the latest stage only of which is revealed to us by the monuments. apis of memphis, mnevis of heliopolis, and pachis of hermonthis are all links that bind together the egypt of the pharaohs and the egypt of the stone age. these were the sacred animals of the clans which first settled in these localities, and their identification with the deities of the official religion must have been a slow process, never fully carried out, in fact, in the minds of the lower classes."** * hibbert lectures, pp. , . ** herodotus, p. . thus it appears that, after all, even on philological showing, the religions and myths of a civilised people may be illustrated by the religions and myths of savages. it is in the study of savage totemism that we too seek a partial explanation of the singular egyptian practices that puzzled the greeks and romans, and the egyptians themselves. to some extent the egyptian religious facts were purely totemistic in the strict sense. some examples of the local practices and rites which justify this opinion may be offered. it has been shown that the totem of each totem-kindred among the lower races is sacred, and that there is a strict rule against eating, or even making other uses of, the sacred animal or plant.* at the same time, one totem-kindred has no scruple about slaying or eating the totem of any other kindred. now similar rules prevailed in egypt, and it is not easy for the school which regards the holy beasts as _emblems_, or as the results of misunderstood language, to explain why an emblem was adored in one village and persecuted and eaten in the next. but if these usages be survivals of totemism, the practice at once ceases to be isolated, and becomes part of a familiar, if somewhat obscure, body of customs found all over the world. "the same animal which was revered and forbidden to be slaughtered for the altar or the table in one part of the country was sacrificed and eaten in another."** * this must be taken generally. see spencer and gillen in the _natives of central australia_, where each kin helps the others to kill its own totem. ** wilkinson, _ancient egyptians_, ii. . herodotus bears testimony to this habit in an important passage. he remarks that the people of the theban nome whose god, ammon ra, or khnum, was ram-headed, abstain from sheep and sacrifice goats; but the people of mendes, whose god was goat-headed, abstain from goats, sacrifice sheep, and hold all goats in reverence.* these local rites, at least in roman times, caused civil brawls, for the customs of one town naturally seemed blasphemous to neighbours with a different sacred animal. thus when the people of dog-town were feasting on the fish called oxyrrhyncus, the citizens of the town which revered the oxyrrhyncus began to eat dogs, to which there is no temptation. hence arose a riot.** * herodotus, ii. - . the goat-headed mendesian god pan, as herodotus calls him, is recognised by dr. birch as the goat-headed ba-en-tattu. wilkinson, ii. , note . ** de is. et os., , . the most singular detail in juvenal's famous account of the war between the towns of ombi and tentyra does not appear to be a mere invention. they fought "because each place loathes the gods of its neighbours". the turmoil began at a sacred feast, and the victors devoured one of the vanquished. now if the religion were really totemistic, the worshippers would be of the same blood as the animal they worshipped, and in eating an adorer of the crocodile, his enemies would be avenging the eating of their own sacred beast. when that beast was a crocodile, probably nothing but starvation or religious zeal could induce people to taste his unpalatable flesh. yet "in the city apollinopolis it is the custom that every one must by all means eat a bit of crocodile; and on one day they catch and kill as many crocodiles as they can, and lay them out in front of the temple ". the mythic reason was that typhon, in his flight from horus, took the shape of a crocodile. yet he was adored at various places where it was dangerous to bathe on account of the numbers and audacity of the creatures. mummies of crocodiles are found in various towns where the animal was revered.* it were tedious to draw up a list of the local sacred beasts of egypt;** but it seems manifest that the explanation of their worship as totems at once colligates it with a familiar set of phenomena. the symbolic explanations, on the other hand, are clearly fanciful, mere _jeux d'esprit_. for example, the sacred shrew-mouse was locally adored, was carried to butis on its death, and its mummy buried with care, but the explanation that it "received divine honours because it is blind, and darkness is more ancient than light," by no means accounts for the mainly _local_ respect paid to the little beast.*** * wilkinson, iii. . compare aelian, x. , on the enmity between worshippers of crocodiles and hawks (and strabo, xvii. ). the hawk-worshippers averred that the hawk was a symbol of fire; the crocodile people said that their beast was an emblem of water; but why one city should be so attached to water-worship and its neighbour to tire-worship does not appear. ** a good deal of information will be found in wilkinson's third volume, but must be accepted with caution. *** wilkinson, iii. ; plutarch, sympos., iv. quaest. ; herodot, ii. . if this explanation of the _local_ worship of sacred beasts be admitted as plausible, the beast-headed gods, or many of them, may be accounted for in the same way. it is always in a town where a certain animal is locally revered that the human-shaped god wearing the head of the same animal finds the centre and chief holy place of his worship. the cat is great in bubastis, and there is bast, and also the cat-headed sekhet* of memphis. the sheep was great in thebes, and there was the sacred city of the ram-headed khnum or ammon ra.** if the crocodile was held in supreme regard at ombos, there, too, was the sacred town of the crocodile-headed god, sebak. * wilkinson, iii. . but the cat, though bubastis was her centre and metropolis, was sacred all over the land. nor was puss only in this proud position. some animals were _universally_ worshipped. ** the inconsistencies of statement about this ram-headed deity in wilkinson are most confusing. ammon is an adjective = "hidden," and is connected with the ram-headed khnum, and with the hawk-headed ra, the sun. while greek writers like porphyry and plutarch and jamblichus repeat the various and inconsistent egyptian allegorical accounts of the origin of those beast-headed gods, the facts of their worship and chosen residence show that the gods are only semi-anthropomorphic refinements or successors of the animals. it has been said that these representations are later in time, and it is probable that they are later in evolution, than the representations of the deities as mere animals. nor, perhaps, is it impossible to conjecture how the change in art was made. it is a common ritual custom for the sacrificer to cover himself with the skin and head of the animal sacrificed. in mexico we know that the aztec priests wore the flayed skins of their human victims. herodotus mentions that on the one awful day when a sheep was yearly sacrificed in thebes, the statue of zeus, as he calls him, was draped in the hide of the beast. in the same way certain californian tribes which worship the buzzard sacrifice him, "himself to himself," once a year, and use his skin as a covering in the ritual.* lucian gives an instance in his treatise _de deâ syriâ_ ( ): "when a man means to go on pilgrimage to hierapolis, he sacrifices a sheep and eats of its flesh. he then kneels down and draws the head over his own head, praying at the same time to the god." chaldean works of art often represent the priest in the skin of the god, sometimes in that of a fish.** it is a conjecture not unworthy of consideration that the human gods with bestial heads are derived from the aspect of the celebrant clad in the pelt of the beast whom he sacrifices. in egyptian art the heads of the gods are usually like masks, or flayed skins superimposed on the head of a man.*** if it be asked _why_ the celebrant thus disguises himself in the sacrifice, it is only possible to reply by guess-work. but the hypothesis may be hazarded that this rite was one of the many ways in which the sacred animal has been propitiated in his death by many peoples. it is a kind of legal fiction to persuade him that, like the bear in the finnish kalewala and in the red indian and australian legend, "he does not die". his skin is still capering about on other shoulders.**** * [robinson, _life in california_, pp. , ;] herodotus, ii. . ** menant, _recherehes_, ii. . see a collection of cases in our _cupid and psyche_, pp. lviii., lix. *** the idea is professor robertson smith's. **** for examples of propitiation of slain animals by this and other arts, see _prim. cult_, i. , . when the koriaks slay a bear or wolf, they dress one of their people in his skin, and dance round him, chanting excuses. we must not forget, while offering this hypothesis of the origin of beast-headed gods, that representations of this kind in art may only be a fanciful kind of shorthand. everyone knows the beasts which, in christian art, accompany the four evangelists. these do not, of course, signify that st. john was of the eagle totem kin, and st. mark of the stock of the lion. they are the beasts of ezekiel and the apocalypse, regarded as types of the four gospel writers. moreover, in mediaeval art, the evangelists are occasionally represented with the heads of their beasts--john with an eagle's head, mark with a lion's, luke with that of an ox. see _bulletin, com. hist. archeol_., iv. . for this note i am indebted to m. h. gaidoz. while egyptian myth, religion and ritual is thus connected with the beliefs of the lower races, the animal-worship presents yet another point of contact. not only were beasts locally adored, but gods were thought of and represented in the shape of various different beasts. how did the evolution work its way? what is the connection between a lofty spiritual conception, as of ammon ra, the lord of righteousness, and osiris, judge of the dead, and bulls, rams, wolves, cranes, hawks, and so forth? osiris especially had quite a collection of bestial heads, and appeared in divers bestial forms.* the bull hapi "was a fair and beautiful image of the soul of osiris," in late ritual.** we have read a hymn in which he is saluted as a ram. he also "taketh the character of the god bennu, with the head of a crane," and as sokar osiris has the head of a hawk.*** these phenomena could not but occur, in the long course of time, when political expediency, in egypt, urged the recognition of the identity of various local deities. in the same way "ammon ra, like most of the gods, frequently took the character of other deities, as khem, ra and chnumis, and even the attributes of osiris ".**** * cf. wilkinson, iii. , . ** de is. et os., . ***wilkinson, iii. . ****op. cit., iii, . there was a constant come and go of attributes, and gods adopted each other's symbols, as kings and emperors wear the uniform of regiments in each other's service. moreover, it is probable that the process so amply illustrated in samoan religion had its course in egypt, and that different holy animals might be recognised as aspects of the same deity. finally, the intricate connection of gods and beasts is no singular or isolated phenomenon. from australia upwards, a god, perhaps originally, conceived of as human and moral in character, is also recognised in a totem, as pund-jel in the eagle-hawk. thus the confusion of egyptian religion is what was inevitable in a land where new and old did not succeed and supersede each other, but coexisted on good terms. had religion not been thus confused, it would have been a solitary exception among the institutions of the country. the peculiarity of egypt, in religion and myth as in every other institution, is the retention of the very rudest and most barbarous things side by side with the last refinements of civilisation (tiele, manuel, p. ). the existence of this conservatism (by which we profess to explain the egyptian myths and worship) is illustrated, in another field, by the arts of everyday life, and by the testimony of the sepulchres of thebes. m. passalacqua, in some excavations at quoarnah (gurna), struck on the common cemetery of the ancient city of thebes. here he found "the mummy of a hunter, with a wooden bow and twelve arrows, the shaft made of reed, the points of hardened wood tipped with edged flints. hard by lay jewels belonging to the mummy of a young woman, pins with ornamental heads, necklaces of gold and lapis-lazuli, gold earrings, scarabs of gold, bracelets of gold," and so forth (chabas, _etudes sur l'antiquity historique_, p. ). the refined art of the gold-worker was contemporary, and this at a late period, with the use of flint-headed arrows, the weapons commonly found all over the world in places where the metals had never penetrated. again, a razor-shaped knife of flint has been unearthed; it is inscribed in hieroglyphics with the words, "the great sam, son of ptah, chief of artists ". the "sams" were members of the priestly class, who fulfilled certain mystic duties at funerals. it is reported by herodotus that the embalmers opened the bodies of the dead with a knife of stone; and the discovery of such a knife, though it had not belonged to an embalmer, proves that in egypt the stone age did not disappear, but coexisted throughout with the arts of metal-working. it is alleged that flint chisels and stone hammers were used by the workers of the mines in sinai, even under dynasties xii., xix. the soil of egypt, when excavated, constantly shows that the egyptians, who in the remote age of the pyramid-builders were already acquainted with bronze, and even with iron, did not therefore relinquish the use of flint knives and arrow-heads when such implements became cheaper than tools of metal, or when they were associated with religion. precisely in the same way did the egyptians, who, in the remotest known times, had imposing religious ideas, decline to relinquish the totems and beast-gods and absurd or blasphemous myths which (like flint axes and arrow-heads) are everywhere characteristic of savages. the fact is, that the egyptian mind, when turned to divine matters, was constantly working on, and working over, the primeval stuff of all mythologies and of all religions. first, there is the belief in a moral guardian and father of men; this is expressed in the sacred hymns. next, there is the belief in "a strange and powerful race, supposed to have been busy on earth before the making, or the evolution, or the emergence of man"; this is expressed in the mythical legends. the egyptians inherited a number of legends of extra-natural heroes, not unlike the savage qat, cagn, yehl, pund-jel, ioskeha and quahteaht, the maori tutenganahau and the south sea tangaroa. some of these were elemental forces, personified in human or bestial guise; some were merely idealised medicine-men. their "wanderings, rapes and manslaughters and mutilations," as plutarch says, remained permanently in legend. when these beings, in the advance of thought, had obtained divine attributes, and when the conception of abstract divinity, returning, perhaps, to its first form, had become pure and lofty, the old legends became so many stumbling-blocks to the faithful. they were explained away as allegories (every student having his own allegorical system), or the extranatural beings were taken (as by plutarch) to be "demons, not gods ". a brief and summary account of the chief figures in the egyptian pantheon will make it sufficiently plain that this is a plausible theory of the gods of egypt, and a probable interpretation of their adventures. accepting the classification proposed by m. maspero, and remembering the limitations under which it holds good, we find that:-- . the gods of death and the dead were sokari, isis and osiris, the young horus and nephthys.* . the elemental gods were seb and nut, of whom seb is the earth and nut the heavens. these two, like heaven and earth in almost all mythologies, are represented as the parents of many of the gods. the other elemental deities are but obscurely known. . among solar deities are at once recognised ra and others, but there was a strong tendency to identify each of the gods with the sun, especially to identify osiris with the sun in his nightly absence.** each god, again, was apt to be blended with one or more of the sacred animals. "ra, in his transformations, assumed the form of the lion, cat and hawk."*** "the great cat in the alley of persea trees at heliopolis, which is ra, crushed the serpent."**** * their special relation to the souls of the departed is matter for a separate discussion. ** "the gods of the dead and the elemental gods were almost all identified with the sun, for the purpose of blending them in a theistic unity" (maspero, _rev. de l'hist. des rel_., i. ). *** birch, in wilkinson, iii. . ***le page renouf, op. cit., p. . in different nomes and towns, it either happened that the same gods had different names, or that analogies were recognised between different local gods; in which case the names were often combined, as in ammon-ra, sabek-ra, sokar-osiris, and so forth. athwart all these classes and compounds of gods, and athwart the theological attempt at constructing a monotheism out of contradictory materials, came that ancient idea of dualism which exists in the myths of the most backward peoples. as pund-jel in australia had his enemy, the crow, as in america yehl had his khanukh, as ioskeha had his tawiscara, so the gods of egypt, and specially osiris, have their set or typhon, the spirit who constantly resists and destroys. with these premises we approach the great osirian myth. the osirian myth. the great egyptian myth, the myth of osiris, turns on the antagonism of osiris and set, and the persistence of the blood-feud between set and the kindred of osiris.* to narrate and as far as possible elucidate this myth is the chief task of the student of egyptian mythology. though the osiris myth, according to mr. le page renouf, is "as old as egyptian civilisation," and though m. maspero finds the osiris myth in all its details under the first dynasties, our accounts of it are by no means so early.** * herodotus, ii. . ** the principal native documents are the magical harris papyrus, of the nineteenth or twentieth dynasty, translated by m. chabas (records of the past, x. ); the papyrus of nebseni (eighteenth dynasty), translated by m. naville, and in records of past, x. ; the hymn to osiris, on a stele (eighteenth dynasty) translated by m. chabas (rev. archeol., ; records of past, iv. ); "the book of respirations," mythically said to have been made by isis to restore osiris-- "book of the breath of life" (the papyrus is probably of the time of the ptolemies--records of part, iv. ); "the lamentations of isis and nephthys," translated by m. de horrack (records of past, ii. ). there is also "the book of the dead": the version of m. pierret, (paris, ) is convenient in shape (also birch, in bunsen, vol. v.). m. de naville's new edition is elaborate and costly, and without a translation. sarcophagi and royal tombs (champollion) also contain many representations of the incidents in the myth. "the myth of osiris in its details, the laying out of his body by his wife isis and his sister nephthys, the reconstruction of his limbs, his mythical chest, and other incidents connected with his myth are represented in detail in the temple of philae" (birch, ap. wilkinson, iii. ). the reverent awe of herodotus prevents him from describing the mystery-play on the sufferings of osiris, which he says was acted at sais, ii. , and ii. , , . probably the clearest and most consecutive modern account of the osiris myth is given by m. lefebure in les yeux d'horus et osiris. m. lefebure's translations are followed in the text; he is not, however, responsible for our treatment of the myth. the ptolemaic version of the temple of edfou is published by m. naville, _mythe d'horus_ (geneva, ). they are mainly allusive, without any connected narrative. fortunately the narrative, as related by the priests of his own time, is given by the author of _de iside et osiride_, and is confirmed both by the egyptian texts and by the mysterious hints of the pious herodotus. here we follow the myth as reported in the greek tract, and illustrated by the monuments. the reader must, for the moment, clear his mind of all the many theories of the meaning of the myth, and must forget the lofty, divine and mystical functions attributed by egyptian theologians and egyptian sacred usage to osiris. he must read the story simply as a story, and he will be struck with its amazing resemblances to the legends about their culture-heroes which are current among the lowest races of america and africa. seb and nut--earth and heaven--were husband and wife. in the _de iside_ version, the sun cursed nut that she should have no child in month or year; but thanks to the cleverness of a new divine co-respondent, five days were added to the calendar. this is clearly a later edition to the fable. on the first of those days osiris was born, then typhon or set, "neither in due time, nor in the right place, but breaking through with a blow, he leaped out from his mother's side".* * de iside et osiride, xii. it is a most curious coincidence that the same story is told of indra in the rig- veda, iv. , . "this is the old and well-known path by which all the gods were born: thou mayst not, by other means, bring thy mother unto death." indra replies, "i will not go out thence, that is a dangerous way: right through the side will i burst". compare (leland, algonquin legends, p. ) the birth of the algonquin typhon, the evil malsumis, the wolf. "glooskap said, 'i will be born as others are'." but the evil malsumis thought himself too great to be brought forth in such a manner, and declared that he would burst through his mother's side. mr. leland's note, containing a buddhist and an armenian parallel, but referring neither to indra nor typhon, shows the _bona fides_ of the algonquin report. the bodhisattva was born through his mother's right side (kern.. der buddhismus, ). the irish version is that our lord was born through the crown of the head of the virgin, like athene. _saltair na rann_, , . se« also liebrecht, _zur volkskunde_, p. . for the irish and buddhist legends (there is an anglo-saxon parallel) i am indebted to mr whitley stokes. probably the feeling that a supernatural child should have no natural birth, and not the borrowing of ideas, accounts for those strange similarities of myth. isis and nephthys were later-born sisters. the greek version of the myth next describes the conduct of osiris as a "culture-hero". he instituted laws, taught agriculture, instructed the egyptians in the ritual of worship, and won them from "their destitute and bestial mode of living". after civilising egypt, he travelled over the world, like the greek dionysus, whom he so closely resembles in some portions of his legend that herodotus supposed the dionysiac myth to have been imported from egypt.* in the absence of osiris, his evil brother, typhon, kept quiet. but, on the hero's return, typhon laid an ambush against him, like Ægisthus against agamemnon. he had a decorated coffer (mummy-case?) made of the exact length of osiris, and offered this as a present to any one whom it would fit. at a banquet all the guests tried it; but when osiris lay down in it, the lid was closed and fastened with nails and melted lead. the coffer, osiris and all, was then thrown into the nile. isis, arrayed in mourning robes like the wandering demeter, sought osiris everywhere lamenting, and found the chest at last in an _erica_ tree that entirely covered it. after an adventure like that of demeter with triptolemus, isis obtained the chest. during her absence typhon lighted on it as he was hunting by moonlight; he tore the corpse of osiris into fourteen pieces, and scattered them abroad. isis sought for the mangled remnants, and, whenever she found one, buried it, each tomb being thenceforth recognised as "a grave of osiris". precisely the same fable occurs in central australian myths of the alcheringa, or legendary past.** * "osiris is dionysus in the tongue of hellas" (herodotus, ii. , ii. ). "most of the details of the mystery of osiris, as practised by the egyptians, resemble the dionysus mysteries of greece.... methinks that melampus, amythaon's son, was well seen in this knowledge, for it was melampus that brought among the greeks the name and rites and phallic procession of dionysus." (compare dels, et os., xxxv.) the coincidences are probably not to be explained by borrowing; many of them are found in america. ** spencer and gillen, p. . the wives "search for the murdered man's mutilated parts". it is a plausible suggestion that, if graves of osiris were once as common in egypt as cairns of heitsi eibib are in namaqualand to-day, the existence of many tombs of one being might be explained as tombs of his scattered members, and the myth of the dismembering may have no other foundation. on the other hand, it must be noticed that a swine was sacrificed to osiris, at the full moon, and it was in the form of a black swine that typhon assailed horus, the son of osiris, whose myth is a _doublure or replica_, in some respects, of the osirian myth itself. we may conjecture, then, that the fourteen portions into which the body of osiris was rent may stand for the fourteen days of the waning moon.** it is well known that the phases of the moon and lunar eclipses are almost invariably accounted for in savage science by the attacks of a beast--dog, pig, dragon, or what not--on the heavenly body. either of these hypothesis (the egyptians adopted the latter)*** is consistent with the character of early myth, but both are merely tentative suggestions.**** * in the edfou monuments set is slain and dismembered in the shape of a red hippopotamus (naville, mythe d'horus, p. ). ** the fragments of osiris were sixteen, according to the texts of deuderah, one for each nome. *** de is. et os., xxxv. **** compare lefebure, les yeux d'horus, pp. . the phallus of osiris was not recovered, and the totemistic habit which made the people of three different districts abstain from three different fish--_lepidotus, phagrus and oxyrrhyncus_--was accounted for by the legend that these fish had devoured the missing portion of the hero's body. so far the power of evil, the black swine typhon, had been triumphant. but the blood-feud was handed on to horus, son of isis and osiris. to spur horus on to battle, osiris returned from the dead, like hamlet's father. but, as is usual with the ghosts of savage myth, osiris returned, not in human, but in bestial form as a wolf.* horus was victorious in the war which followed, and handed typhon over bound in chains to isis. unluckily isis let him go free, whereon horus pushed off her crown and placed a bull's skull on her head. there the greek narrator ends, but** he expressly declines to tell the more blasphemous parts of the story, such as "the dismemberment of horus and the beheading of isis". why these myths should be considered "more blasphemous" than the rest does not appear. it will probably be admitted that nothing in this sacred story would seem out of place if we found it in the legends of pund-jel, or cagn, or yehl, among australians, bushmen, or utes, whose own "culture-hero," like the ghost of osiris, was a wolf. this dismembering of osiris in particular resembles the dismembering of many other heroes in american myth; for example, of chokanipok, out of whom were made vines and flint-stones. objects in the mineral and vegetable world were explained in egypt as transformed parts or humours of osiris, typhon and other heroes.*** * wicked squires in shropshire (miss burns, shropshire folk- lore) "come" as bulls. osiris, in the mendes nonie, "came" as a ram (marietta, denderah, iv. ). ** de is, et os., xx. ***magical text, nineteenth dynasty, translated by dr. birch records of past vi. ; lefebure, osiris, pp. , , , ; livre des morts chap. xvii.; records of past, x. . once more, though the egyptian gods are buried here and are immortal in heaven, they have also, like the heroes of eskimos and australians and indians of the amazon, been transformed into stars, and the priests could tell which star was osiris, which was isis, and which was typhon.* such are the wild inconsistencies which egyptian religion shares with the fables of the lowest races. in view of these facts it is difficult to agree with brugsch** that "from the root and trunk of a pure conception of deity spring the boughs and twigs of a tree of myth, whose leaves spread into a rank impenetrable luxuriance ". stories like the osiris myth--stories found all over the whole world--spring from no pure religious source, but embody the delusions and fantastic dreams of the lowest and least developed human fancy and human speculation. and these flourish, like mistletoe on the oak, over the sturdier growth of a religious conception of another root. the references to the myth in papyri and on the monuments, though obscure and fragmentary, confirm the narrative of the _de iside_. the coffer in which osiris foolishly ventured himself seems to be alluded to in the harris magical papyrus.*** "get made for me a shrine of eight cubits. then it was told to thee, o man of seven cubits, how canst thou enter it? and it had been made for thee, and thou hast reposed in it." * custom and myth, "star myths"; de rouge, nouv. not., p. ; lefebure, osiris, p. . ** religion und mythologie, p. . *** records of past, x. . here, too, isis magically stops the mouths of the nile, perhaps to prevent the coffer from floating out to sea. more to the point is one of the original "osirian hymns" mentioned by plutarch.* the hymn is on a stele, and is attributed by m. chabas, the translator, to the seventeenth dynasty.** osiris is addressed as the joy and glory of his parents, seb and nut, who overcomes his enemy. his sister, isis, accords to him due funeral rites after his death and routs his foes. without ceasing, without resting, she sought his dead body, and wailing did she wander round the world, nor stopped till she found him. light flashed from her feathers.*** horus, her son, is king of the world. such is a _precis_ of the mythical part of the hymn. the rest regards osiris in his religious capacity as a sovereign of nature, and as the guide and protector of the dead. the hymn corroborates, as far as it goes, the narrative of the greek two thousand years later. similar confirmation is given by "the lamentations of isis and nephthys," a papyrus found within a statue of osiris in thebes. the sisters wail for the dead hero, and implore him to "come to his own abode". the theory of the birth of horus here is that he was formed out of the scattered members of osiris, an hypothesis, of course, inconsistent with the other myths (especially with the myth that he dived for the members of osiris in the shape of a crocodile),**** and, therefore, all the more mythical. * de is. et os., . ** rev. archeol., may, . *** the greek version says that isis took the form of a swallow. **** mariette, denderah, iv. , , . the "book of respirations," finally, contains the magical songs by which isis was feigned to have restored breath and life to osiris.* in the representations of the vengeance and triumph of horus on the temple walls of edfou in the ptolemaic period, horus, accompanied by isis, not only chains up and pierces the red hippopotamus (or pig in some designs), who is set, but, exercising reprisals, cuts him into pieces, as set cut osiris. isis instructs osiris as to the portion which properly falls to each of nine gods. isis reserves his head and "saddle"; osiris gets the thigh; the bones are given to the cats. as each god had his local habitation in a given town, there is doubtless reference to local myths. at edfou also the animal of set is sacrificed, symbolically in his image made of paste, a common practice in ancient mexico.** * records of past, iv. . ** herodotus, ii. ; de. is. et os., . see also porphyry's life of pythagoras, who sacrificed a bull made of paste, liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. . many of these myths, as m. naville remarks, are doubtless ratiological: the priests, as in the brahmanas, told them to account for peculiar parts of the ritual, and to explain strange local names. thus the names of many places are explained by myths setting forth that they commemorate some event in the campaign of horus against set. in precisely the same way the local superstitions, originally totemic, about various animals were explained by myths attaching these animals to the legends of the gods. explanations of the osiris myth thus handed down to us were common among the ancient students of religion. many of them are reported in the familiar tract de iside et osiride. they are all the interpretations of civilised men, whose method is to ask themselves, "now, if _i_ had told such a tale as this, or invented such a mystery-play of divine misadventures, what meaning could _i_ have intended to convey in what is apparently blasphemous nonsense?" there were moral, solar, lunar, cosmical, tellurian, and other methods of accounting for a myth which, in its origin, appears to be one of the world-wide early legends of the strife between a fabulous good being and his brother, a fabulous evil being. most probably some incidents from a moon-myth have also crept into, or from the first made part of, the tale of osiris. the enmity of typhon to the eyes of horus, which he extinguishes, and which are restored,* has much the air of an early mythical attempt to explain the phenomena of eclipses, or even of sunset. we can plainly see how local and tribal superstitions, according to which this or that beast, fish, or tree was held sacred, came to be tagged to the general body of the myth. this or that fish was not eaten; this or that tree was holy; and men who had lost the true explanation of these superstitions explained them by saying that the fish had tasted, or the tree had sheltered. * livre des moris, pp. , . this view of the myth, while it does not pretend to account for every detail, refers it to a large class of similar narratives, to the barbarous dualistic legends about the original good and bad extra-natural beings, which are still found current among contemporary savages. these tales are the natural expression of the savage fancy, and we presume that the myth of the mutilated osiris survived in egypt, just as the use of flint-headed arrows and flint knives survived during millenniums in which bronze and iron were perfectly familiar. the cause assigned is adequate, and the process of survival is verified. whether this be the correct theory of the fundamental facts of the myth or not, it is certain that the myth received vast practical and religious developments. orisis did not remain the mere culture-hero of whom we have read the story, wounded in the house of his friends, dismembered, restored and buried, reappearing as a wolf or bull, or translated to a star. his worship pervaded the whole of egypt, and his name grew into a kind of hieroglyph for all that is divine. "the osirian type, in its long evolution, ended in being the symbol of the whole deified universe--underworld and world of earth, the waters above and the waters below. it is osiris that floods egypt in the nile, and that clothes her with the growing grain. his are the sacred eyes, the sun that is born daily and meets a daily death, the moon that every month is young and waxes old. osiris is the soul that animates these, the soul that vivifies all things, and all things are but his body. he is, like ra of the royal tombs, the earth and the sun, the creator and the created."* * lefebure, osiris, p. . such is the splendid sacred vestment which egyptian theology wove for the mangled and massacred hero of the myth. all forces, all powers, were finally recognised in him; he was sun and moon, and the maker of all things; he was the truth and the life; in him all men were justified. on the origin of the myth philology throws no light. m. lefebure recognises in the name osiris the meaning of "the infernal abode," or "the nocturnal residence of the sacred eye," for, in the duel of set and horus, he sees a mythical account of the daily setting of the sun.* "osiris himself, the sun at his setting, became a centre round which the other incidents of the war of the gods gradually crystallised." osiris is also the earth. it would be difficult either to prove or disprove this contention, and the usual divergency of opinion as to the meaning and etymology of the word "osiris" has always prevailed.** the greek*** identifies osiris with hades. "both," says m. lefebure, "originally meant the dwellings--and came to mean the god--of the dead." in the same spirit anubis, the jackal (a beast still dreaded as a ghost by the egyptians), is explained as "the circle of the horizon," or "the portals of the land of darkness," the gate kept, as homer would say, by hades, the mighty warden. whether it is more natural that men should represent the circle of the horizon or the twilight at sunset as a jackal, or that a jackal-totem should survive as a god, mythologists will decide for themselves.**** * osiris, p. . so lieblein, op. cit., p. . ** see the guesses of etymologists (osiris, pp. , ). horus has even been connected with the greek hera, as the atmosphere! *** de is. os., . **** le page renouf, hibbert lectures, pp. - , . the jackal, by a myth that cannot be called pious, was said to have eaten his father, osiris. mr. frazers theory of osiris as somehow connected with vegetation will be found in his _golden bough_. his master, mannhardt, the great writer on vegetation myths, held that osiris was the sun. the conclusions to be drawn from so slight a treatment of so vast a subject are, that in egypt, as elsewhere, a mythical and a religious, a rational and an irrational stream of thought flowed together, and even to some extent mingled their waters. the rational tendency, declared in prayers and hymns, amplifies the early human belief in a protecting and friendly personal power making for righteousness. the irrational tendency, declared in myth and ritual, retains and elaborates the early human confusions of thought between man and beast and god, things animate and inanimate. on the one hand, we have almost a recognition of supreme divinity; on the other, savage rites and beliefs, shared by australians and bushmen. it is not safe or scientific to call one of those tendencies earlier than the other; perhaps we know no race so backward that it is not influenced by forms of both. nor is it safe or scientific to look on ruder practices as corruptions of the purer beliefs. perhaps it may never be possible to trace both streams to the same fountain-head; probably they well up from separate springs in the nature of man. we do but recognise and contrast them; the sources of both are lost in the distance, where history can find no record of actual experience. egyptian religion and myth are thus no isolated things; they are but the common stuff of human thought, decorated or distorted under a hundred influences in the course of unknown centuries of years. chapter xvii. gods of the aryans of india. difficulties of the study--development of clan-gods-- departmental gods-divine patronage of morality--immorality mythically attributed to gods--indra--his love of soma-- scandal about indra--attempts to explain indra as an elemental god--varuna--ushas--the asvins--their legend and theories about it--tvashtri--the maruts--conclusions arrived at. nothing in all mythology is more difficult than the attempt to get a clear view of the gods of vedic india. the perplexed nature of the evidence has already been explained, and may be briefly recapitulated. the obscure documents on which we have to rely, the vedas and the brahmanaa, contain in solution the opinions of many different ages and of many different minds. old and comparatively modern conceptions of the deities, pious efforts to veil or to explain away what seemed crude or profane, the puerilities of ritual, half-conscious strivings in the direction of monotheism or pantheism, clan or family prejudices, rough etymological guesses, and many other elements of doubt combine to confuse what can never have been clear. savage legends, philosophic conjectures, individual predilections are all blended into the collection of hymns called the _rig- veda_. who can bring order into such a chaos? an attempt to unravel the tangled threads of indian faith must be made. the gods of the vedas are, on the whole, of the usual polytheistic type, though their forms mix into each other like shadows cast by a flickering fire. the ideas which may be gathered about them from the ancient hymns have, as usual, no consistency and no strict orthodoxy. as each bard of each bardic family celebrates a god, he is apt to make him for the occasion the pre-eminent deity of all.* this way of conceiving of the gods leads naturally (as thought advances) in the direction of a pantheistic monotheism, a hospitable theology which accepts each divine being as a form or manifestation of the supreme universal spirit. it is easy, however, to detect certain attributes more or less peculiar to each god. as among races far less forward in civilisation, each of the greater powers has his own special department, however much his worshippers may be inclined to regard him as really supreme sovereign. thus indra is mainly concerned with thunder and other atmospheric phenomena: these are his department; but vayu is the wind or the god of the wind, and agni as fire or the god of fire is necessarily not unconnected with the lightning. the maruts, again, are the storm-winds, or gods of the storm-winds; mitra and varuna preside over day and night; ushas is the dawn or the goddess of dawn, and tvashtri is the mechanic among the deities, corresponding more or less closely to the greek hephaestus. * muir, v. . compare muir, i. , on the word _kusikas_, implying, according to benfey, that indra "is designated as the sole or chief deity of this tribe ". cf, also hang, ait. br., ii. . though many of these beings are still in vedic poetry departmental powers with provinces of their own in external nature, they are also supposed to be interested not only in the worldly, but in the moral welfare of mankind, and are imagined to "make for righteousness ". it is true that the myths by no means always agree in representing the gods as themselves moral. incest and other hideous offences are imputed to them, and it is common to explain these myths as the result of the forgotten meanings of sayings which originally were only intended to describe processes of nature, especially of the atmosphere. supposing, for the sake of argument, that this explanation is correct, we can scarcely be expected to think highly of the national taste which preferred to describe pure phenomena like dawn and sunset in language which is appropriate to the worst crimes in the human calendar. it is certain that the indians, when they came to reflect and philosophise on their own religion (and they had reached this point before the veda was compiled), were themselves horrified by the immoralities of some of their gods. yet in vedic times these gods were already acknowledged as beings endowed with strong moral attributes and interested in the conduct of men. as an example of this high ethical view, we may quote mr. max muller's translation of part of a hymn addressed to varuna.* * rig-veda, ii. ; _hibbert lectures_, p. . "take from me my sin like a fetter, and we shall increase, o varuna, the spring of thy law. let not the thread be cut while i weave my song! let not the form of the workman break before the time.... like as a rope from a calf, remove from me my sin, for away from thee i am not master even of the twinkling of an eye.... move far away from me all self-committed guilt, and may i not, o king, suffer for what others have committed. many dawns have not yet dawned; grant me to live in them, o varuna." what follows is not on the same level of thought, and the next verse contains an appeal to varuna to save his worshipper from the effect of magic spells. "whether it be my companion or a friend who, while i was asleep and trembling, uttered fearful spells against me, whether it be a thief or a wolf who wishes to hurt me, protect us against them, o varuna."* agni, again, the god of fire, seems to have no original connection with righteousness. yet even agni** is prayed to forgive whatever sin the worshipper may have committed through folly, and to make him guiltless towards aditi.*** the goddess aditi once more, whether her name (rendered the "boundless") be or be not "one of the oldest names of the dawn,"**** is repeatedly called on by her worshippers to "make them sinless". in the same way sun, dawn, heaven, soma, and earth are implored to pardon sin. * an opposite view is expressed in weber's hist, of sansk. literature. ** rig- veda, iv. , ; viii. , . *** for divergent opinions about aditi, compare _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xii. , pp. - ; muir, v. . **** max müller, _hibbert lectures_, p. . though the subject might be dwelt on at very great length, it is perhaps already apparent that the gods of the vedic poetry are not only potent over regions of the natural world, but are also conceived of, at times, as being powers with ethical tendencies and punishers of mortal guilt. it would be difficult to overstate the ethical nobility of certain vedic hymns, which even now affect us with a sense of the "hunger and thirst after righteousness" so passionately felt by the hebrew psalmists. how this emotion, which seems naturally directed to a single god, came to be distributed among a score, it is hard to conjecture. but all this aspect of the vedic deities is essentially the province of the science of religion rather than of mythology. man's consciousness of sin, his sense of being imperfect in the sight of "larger other eyes than ours," is a topic of the deepest interest, but it comes but by accident into the realm of mythological science. that science asks, not with what feelings of awe and gratitude the worshipper approaches his gods, but what myths, what stories, are told to or told by the worshipper concerning the origin, personal characteristics and personal adventures of his deities. as a rule, these stories are a mere _chronique scandaleuse_, full of the most absurd and offensive anecdotes, and of the crudest fictions. the deities of the vedic poems, so imposing when regarded as vast natural forces, or as the spiritual beings that master vast natural forces, so sympathetic when looked on as merciful gods conscious of, yet lenient towards, the sins of perishing mortals, have also their mythological aspect and their _chronique scandaleuse_.* * here we must remind the reader that the vedas do not offer us all these tales, nor the worst of them. as m. barth says, "le sentiment religieux a ecarte la plupart de ces mythes ainsi que beaucoup d'autres qui le choquaient, mais il ne les a pas ecartes tous" (_religions de l'inde_, p. ). it is, of course, in their anthropomorphic aspect that the vedic deities share or exceed the infirmities of mortals. the gods are not by any means always regarded as practically equal in supremacy. there were great and small, young and old gods,* though this statement, with the habitual inconsistency of a religion without creeds and articles, is elsewhere controverted. "none of you, o gods, is small or young; you are all great."** as to the immortality and the origin of the gods, opinions are equally divided among the vedic poets and in the traditions collected in the brahmanas. several myths of the origin of the gods have already been discussed in the chapter on "aryan myths of the creation of the world and of man". it was there demonstrated that many of the aryan myths were on a level with those current among contemporary savages all over the world, and it was inferred that they originally sprang from the same source, the savage imagination. in this place, while examining the wilder divine myths, we need only repeat that, in one legend, heaven and earth, conceived of as two sentient living beings of human parts and passions, produced the aryan gods, as they did the gods of the new zealanders and of other races. again, the gods were represented in the children of aditi, and this might be taken either in a high and refined sense, as if aditi were the infinite region from which the solar deities rise,*** or we may hold that aditi is the eternal which sustains and is sustained by the gods,**** or the indian imagination could sink to the vulgar and half-magical conception of aditi as a female, who, being desirous of sons, cooked a brahmandana oblation for the gods, the sadhyas.***** * rig-veda, i. , . ** ibid., viii. ; muir, v. . *** max müller, _hibbert lectures_, p. . **** roth, in muir, iv. . ***** _taittirya brahmana_, i. , , ; muir, v. , , . various other gods and supernatural beings are credited with having created or generated the gods. indra's father and mother are constantly spoken of, and both he and other gods are often said to have been originally mortal, and to have reached the heavens by dint of that "austere fervour," that magical asceticism, which could do much more than move mountains. the gods are thus by no means always credited in aryan mythology with inherent immortality. like most of the other deities whose history we have been studying, they had struggles for pre-eminence with powers of a titanic character, the asuras. "asura, 'living,' was originally an epithet of certain powers of nature, particularly of the sky," says mr. max müller.** as the gods also are recognised as powers of nature, particularly of the sky, there does not seem to be much original difference between devas and asuras.*** the opposition between them may be "secondary," as mr. max müller says, but in any case it too strongly resembles the other wars in heaven of other mythologies to be quite omitted. unluckily, the most consecutive account of the strife is to be found, not in the hymns of the vedas, but in the collected body of mythical and other traditions called the brahmanas.**** ** hibbert lectures, p. . *** in the _atharva veda_ it is said that a female asura once drew indra from among the gods (muir, v. ). thus gods and asuras are capable of amorous relations. **** _satapatha br_. the story in the brahmana begins by saying that throughout. see the oxford translation. prajapati (the producer of things, whose acquaintance we have made in the chapter on cosmogonic myths) was half mortal and half immortal. after creating things endowed with life, he created death, the devourer. with that part of him which was mortal he was afraid of death, and the gods were also "afraid of this ender, death". the gods in this tradition are regarded as mortals. compare the _black yajur veda_:* "_the gods were formerly just like men_. they desired to overcome want, misery, death, and to go to the divine assembly. they saw, took and sacrificed with this chaturvimsatiratra, and in consequence overcame want, misery and death, and reached the divine assembly." in the same veda we are told that the gods and asuras contended together; the gods were less numerous, but, as politicians make men peers, they added to their number by placing some bricks in the proper position to receive the sacrificial fire. they then used incantations: "thou art a multiplier"; and so the bricks became animated, and joined the party of the gods, and made numbers more equal.** * _taittirya sanhita_; muir, v. , note . ** according to a later legend, or a legend which we have received in a later form, the gods derived immortality from drinking of the churned ocean of milk. they churned it with mount mandara for a staff and the serpent hasuki for a cord. the _ramayana and mahabharata_ ascribe this churning to the desire of the gods to become immortal. according to the _mahabharata_, a daitya named rahu insinuated himself among the gods, and drank some of the draught of immortality. vishnu beheaded him before the draught reached lower than his throat; his _head_ was thus immortal, and is now a constellation. he pursues the sun and moon, who had spied him among the gods, and causes their eclipses by his ferocity. all this is on a level with australian mythology. to return to the gods in the _satapatha brahmana_ and their dread of death. they overcame him by certain sacrifices suggested by prajapati. death resented this, and complained that men would now become immortal and his occupation would be gone. to console him the gods promised that no man in future should become immortal with his body, but only through knowledge after parting with his body. this legend, at least in its present form, is necessarily later than the establishment of minute sacrificial rules. it is only quoted here as an example of the opinion that the gods were once mortal and "just like men". it may be urged, and probably with truth, that this belief is the figment of religious decadence. as to the victory of the gods over the asuras, that is ascribed by the _satapatha brahmana_* to the fact that, at a time when neither gods nor asuras were scrupulously veracious, the gods invented the idea of speaking the truth. the asuras stuck to lying. the first results not unnaturally were that the gods became weak and poor, the asuras mighty and rich. the gods at last overcame the asuras, not by veracity, but by the success of a magical sacrifice. earlier dynasties of gods, to which the generation of indra succeeded, are not unfrequently mentioned in the _rig- veda_.** * muir, iv. a. ** ibid., v. . on the whole, the accounts of the gods and of their nature present in aryan mythology the inconsistent anthropomorphism, and the mixture of incongruous and often magical and childish ideas, which mark all other mythological systems. this will become still more manifest when we examine the legends of the various gods separately, as they have been disentangled by dr. muir and m. bergaigne from the vedas, and from the later documents which contain traditions of different dates. the vedas contain no such orderly statements of the divine genealogies as we find in hesoid and homer. all is confusion, all is contradiction.* in many passages heaven and earth, dyaus and prithivi, are spoken of as parents of the other gods. dyaus is commonly identified, as is well known, with zeus by the philologists, but his legend has none of the fulness and richness which makes that of zeus so remarkable. before the story of dyaus could become that of zeus, the old aryan sky or heaven god had to attract into his cycle that vast collection of miscellaneous adventures from a thousand sources which fill the legend of the chief hellenic deity. in the veda, dyaus appears now, as with prithivi,** the parent of all, both men and gods, now as a created thing or being fashioned by indra or by tvashtri.*** he is "essentially beneficent, but has no marked individuality, and can only have become the greek zeus by inheriting attributes from other deities ".**** another very early divine person is aditi, the mother of the great and popular gods called adityas. "nothing is less certain than the derivation of the name of aditi," says m. paul regnaud.***** * certain myths of the beginnings of things will be found in the chapter on cosmogonic traditions. ** muir, v. - . *** ibid., v. . **** bergaigne, iii. . ***** _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xii. , . m. regnaud finds the root of aditi in _ad_, to shine. mr. max müller looks for the origin of the word in _a_, privative, and _da_, to bind; thus aditi will mean "the boundless," the "infinite," a theory rejected by m. regnaud. the expansion of this idea, with all its important consequences, is worked out by mr. max müller in his _hibbert lectures_. "the dawn came and went, but there remained always behind the dawn that heaving sea of light or fire from which she springs. was not this the invisible infinite? and what better name could be given than that which the vedic poets gave to it, aditi, the boundless, the yonder, the beyond all and everything." this very abstract idea "may have been one of the earliest intuitions and creations of the hindu mind" (p. ). m. darmesteter and mr. whitney, on the other hand, explain aditi just as welcker and mr. max müller explain cronion. there was no such thing as a goddess named aditi till men asked themselves the meaning of the title of their own gods, "the adityas". that name might be interpreted "children of aditi," and so a goddess called aditi was invented to fit the name, thus philologically extracted from adityas.* m. bergaigne** finds that aditi means "free," "untrammelled," and is used both as an adjective and as a name. * the brahmanic legend of the birth of the adityas (aitareya brahmana iii. ) is too disgusting to be quoted. ** _religion vedique_, iii. . this vague and floating term was well suited to convey the pantheistic ideas natural to the indian mind, and already notable in the vedic hymns. "aditi," cries a poet, "is heaven; aditi is air; aditi is the father, the mother and the son; aditi is all the gods; aditi is that which is born and which awaits the birth."* nothing can be more advanced and metaphysical. meanwhile, though aditi is a personage so floating and nebulous, she figures in fairly definite form in a certain myth. the _rig-veda_ (x. , ) tells us the tale of the birth of her sons, the adityas. "eight sons were there of aditi, born of her womb. to the gods went she with seven; martanda threw she away." the _satapatha brahmana_ throws a good deal of light on her conduct. aditi had eight sons; but there are only seven gods whom men call adityas. the eighth she bore a shapeless lump, of the dimensions of a man, as broad as long, say some. the adityas then trimmed this ugly duckling of the family into human shape, and an elephant sprang from the waste pieces which they threw away; therefore an elephant partakes of the nature of man. the shapen eighth son was called vivasvat, the sun.** * rig- veda, i. , . ** muir, iv. . it is not to be expected that many, if any, remains of a theriomorphic character should cling to a goddess so abstract as aditi. when, therefore, we find her spoken of as a cow, it is at least as likely that this is only part of "the pleasant unconscious poetry" of the veda, as that it is a survival of some earlier zoomorphic belief. gubernatis offers the following lucid account of the metamorphosis of the infinite (for so he understands aditi) into the humble domestic animal: "the inexhaustible soon comes to mean that which can be milked without end" (it would be more plausible to say that what can be milked without end soon comes to mean the inexhaustible), "and hence also a celestial cow, an inoffensive cow, which we must not offend.... the whole heavens being thus represented as an infinite cow, it was natural that the principal and most visible phenomena of the sky should become, in their turn, children of the cow." aditi then is "the great spotted cow". thus did the vedic poets (according to gubernatis) descend from the unconditioned to the byre. from aditi, however she is to be interpreted, we turn to her famous children, the adityas, the high gods. there is no kind of consistency, as we have so often said, in vedic mythical opinion. the adityas, for example, are now represented as three, now as seven; for three and seven are sacred numbers. to the triad a fourth is sometimes added, to the seven an eighth aditya. the adityas are a brotherhood or college of gods, but some of the members of the fraternity have more individual character than, for example, the maruts, who are simply a company with a tendency to become confused with the adityas. considered as a triad, the adityas are varuna, mitra, aryaman. the name of varuna is commonly derived from vri (or var),* to cover, according to the commentator sayana, because "he envelops the wicked in his snares," the nets which he carries to capture the guilty. as god of the midnight sky, varuna is also "the covering" deity, with his universal pall of darkness. varuna's name has frequently been compared to that of uranus (------), the greek god of heaven, who was mutilated by his son cronos. * max müller, select essays, i. . supposing varuna to mean the heaven, we are not much advanced, for _dyu_ also lias the same meaning; yet dyaus and varuna have little in common. the interpreters of the vedas attempted to distinguish mitra from varuna by making the former the god of the daylight, the latter the god of the midnight vault of heaven. the distinction, like other vedic attempts at drawing a line among the floating phantasms of belief, is not kept up with much persistency. of all vedic deities, varuna has the most spiritual and ethical character. "the grandest cosmical functions are ascribed to varuna." "his ordinances are fixed and unassailable." "he who should flee far beyond the sky would not escape varuna the king." he is "gracious even to him who has committed sin". to be brief, the moral sentiments, which we have shown to be often present in a pure form, even in the religion of savages, find a lofty and passionate expression in the vedic psalms to varuna.* but even varuna has not shaken off all remains of the ruder mythopoeic fancy. a tale of the grossest and most material obscenity is told of mitra and varuna in the _rig- veda_ itself--the tale of the birth of vasistha.** in the aitareya brahmana (ii. ) varuna takes a sufficiently personal form. he has somehow fallen heir to a role familiar to us from the russian tale of _tsar morskoi_, the gaelic "battle of the birds," and the scotch "nicht, nought, nothing"*** varuna, in short, becomes the giant or demon who demands from the king the gift of his yet unborn son. * muir, v. . ** rig. veda, vii. , . *** see custom, and myth, "a far-travelled tale," and our chapter postea, on "romantic myths". harischandra is childless, and is instructed to pray to varuna, promising to offer the babe as a human sacrifice. when the boy is born, harischandra tries to evade the fulfilment of his promise. finally a young brahman is purchased, and is to be sacrificed to varuna as a substitute for the king's son. the young brahman is supernaturally released. thus even in vedic, still more in brahmanic myth, the vague and spiritual form of varuna is brought to shame, or confused with some demon of lower earlier legends. there are believed on somewhat shadowy evidence to be traces of a conflict between varuna and indra (the fourth aditya sometimes added to the triad), a conflict analogous to that between uranus and cronos.* the hymn, as m. bergaigne holds, proves that indra was victorious over varuna, and thereby obtained possession of fire and of the soma juice. but these births and battles of gods, who sometimes are progenitors of their own fathers, and who seem to change shapes with demons, are no more to be fixed and scientifically examined than the torn plumes and standards of the mist as they roll up a pass among the mountain pines.** * rig- veda, x. . ** bergaigne, iii. . we next approach a somewhat better defined and more personal figure, that of the famous god indra, who is the nearest vedic analogue of the greek zeus. before dealing with the subject more systematically, it may be interesting to give one singular example of the parallelisms between aryan and savage mythology. in his disquisition on the indian gods, dr. muir has been observing* that some passages of the _rig- veda_ imply that the reigning deities were successors of others who had previously existed. he quotes, in proof of this, a passage from _rig- veda_, iv. , : "who, o indra, made thy mother a widow? who sought to kill thee, lying or moving? what god was present in the fray when thou didst slay thy father, seizing him by the foot?" according to m. bergaigne,** indra slew his father, tvashtri, for the purpose of stealing and drinking the soma, to which he was very partial. this is rather a damaging passage, as it appears that the vedic poet looked on indra as a parricide and a drunkard. to explain this hint, however, sayana the ancient commentator, quotes a passage from the _black yajur veda_ which is no explanation at all. but it has some interest for us, as showing how the myths of aryans and hottentots coincide, even in very strange details. yajna (sacrifice) desired dakshina (largesse). he consorted with her. indra was apprehensive of this. he reflected, "whoever is born of her will be this". he entered into her. indra himself was born of her. he reflected, "whoever is born of her besides me will be this". having considered, he cut open her womb. she produced a cow. here we have a high aryan god passing into and being born from the womb of a being who also bore a cow. the hottentot legend of the birth of their god, heitsi eibib, is scarcely so repulsive.*** * _sanskrit texts_, v. , . ** _religion vedique_, iii. . *** _tsuni goam_, hahn, p. "there was grass growing, and a cow came and ate of that grass, and she became pregnant" (as hera of ares in greek myth), "and she brought forth a young bull. and this bull became a very large bull." and the people came together one day in order to slaughter him. but he ran away down hill, and they followed him to turn him back and catch him. but when they came to the spot where he had disappeared, they found a man making milk tubs. they asked this man, "where is the bull that passed down here?" he said, "i do not know; has he then passed here?" and all the while it was he himself, who had again become heitsi eibib. thus the birth of heitsi eibib resembled that of indra as described in _rig-veda_, iv. , . "his mother, a cow, bore indra, an unlicked calf."* whatever view we may take of this myth, and of the explanation in the brahmana, which has rather the air of being an invention to account for the vedic cow-mother of indra, it is certain that the god is not regarded as an uncreated being.** * ludwig, _die farse hat den groszen, starken, nicht zu venoundenden stier, den tosenden indra, geboren_. ** as to the etymological derivation and original significance of the name of indra, the greatest differences exist among philologists. yaska gives thirteen guesses of old, and there are nearly as many modern conjectures. in roth described indra as the god of "the bright clear vault of heaven" (zeller's _theologisches jahrbuch_, , p. ). compare for this and the following conjectures, e. d. perry, _journal of american oriental society_, vol. i. p. . roth derived the "radiance" from _idh, indh_, to kindle. roth afterwards changed his mind, and selected _in_ or _inv_, to have power over. lassen (_indisclie allerthumskunde_, nd ed., i. p. ) adopted a different derivation. benfey (or. und occ, , p. ) made indra god, not of the radiant, but of the rainy sky. mr. max müller (lectures on science of language, ii. ) made indra "another conception of the bright blue sky," but (p. , note ) he derives indra from the same root as in sanskrit gives indu, drop or sap, that is, apparently, rainy sky, the reverse of blue. it means originally "the giver of rain," and beufey is quoted ut supra. in chips, ii. , indra becomes "the chief solar deity of india ". muir (texts, v. ) identifies the character of indra with that of jupiter pluvius, the rainy jove of rome. grassman (dictionary, s. v.) calls indra "the god of the bright firmament". mr. perry takes a distinction, and regards indra as a god, not of sky, but of air, a midgarth between earth and sky, who inherited the skyey functions of dyu. in the veda mr. perry finds him "the personification of the thunderstorm". and so on! it seems incontestable that in vedic mythology tvashtri is regarded as the father of indra.* thus (ii. , ) indra's thunderbolts are said to have been fashioned by his father. other proofs are found in the account of the combat between father and son. thus (iii. , ) we read, "powerful, victorious, _he gives his body what shape he pleases_. thus indra, having vanquished tvashtri even at his birth, stole and drank the soma."** these anecdotes do not quite correspond with the version of indra's guilt given in the brahmanas. there it is stated*** that tvashtri had a three-headed son akin to the asuras, named vairupa. this vairupa was suspected of betraying to the asuras the secret of soma. indra therefore cut off his three heads. * on the parentage of indra, bergaigne writes, iii. . ** iii. . bergaigne identifies tvashtri and vritra. cf. aitareya brahmana, ii. , note . *** aitareya brahmana, it , note . now vairupa was a brahman, and indra was only purified of his awful guilt, brahmanicide, when earth, trees and women accepted each their share of the iniquity. tvashtri, the father of vairupa, still excluded indra from a share of the soma, which, however, indra seized by force. tvashtri threw what remained of indra's share into the fire with imprecations, and from the fire sprang vritra, the enemy of indra. indra is represented at various times and in various texts as having sprung from the mouth of purusha, or as being a child of heaven and earth, whom he thrust asunder, as tutenganahau thrust asunder rangi and papa in the new zealand myth. in a passage of the _black yajur veda_, once already quoted, indra, sheep and the kshattriya caste were said to have sprung from the breast and arms of prajapati.* in yet another hymn in the _rig- veda_ he is said to have conquered heaven by magical austerity. leaving the brahmanas aside, mr. perry** distinguishes four sorts of vedic texts on the origin of indra:-- . purely physical. . anthropomorphic. . vague references to indra's parents. . philosophical speculations. of the first class,*** it does not appear to us that the purely physical element is so very pure after all. heaven, earth, indra, "the cow," are all thought of as _personal_ entities, however gigantic and vague. in the second or anthropomorphic myths we have**** the dialogue already referred to, in which indra, like set in egypt and malsumis or chokanipok in america, insists on breaking his way through his mother's side.***** * muir, i. . ** op. cit., p. . *** rig- veda, iv. , , , ; iv. , ; i. , ; viii. , ; viii. , - . **** ibid., iv. , . ***** cf. "egyptian divine myths" in verse his mother exposes indra, as maui and the youngest son of aditi were exposed. indra soon after, as precocious as heitsi eibib, immediately on his birth kills his father.* he also kills vritra, as apollo when new-born slew the python. in iii. , , , he takes early to soma-drinking. in x. , , women cradle him as the nymphs nursed zeus in the cretan cave. in the third class we have the odd myth,** "while an immature boy, he mounted the new waggon and roasted for father and mother a fierce bull ". in the fourth class a speculative person tries to account for the statement that indra was born from a horse, "or the verse means that agni was a horse's son". finally, sayana**** explains nothing, but happens to mention that the goddess aditi _swallowed_ her rival nisti, a very primitive performance, and much like the feat of cronos when he dined on his family, or of zeus when he swallowed his wife. * why do indra and his family behave in this bloodthirsty way? hillebrandt says that the father is the heaven which indra "kills" by covering it with clouds. but, again, indra kills his father by concealing the sun. he is abandoned by his mother when the clear sky, from which he is born, disappears behind the veil of cloud. is the father sun or heaven? is the mother clear sky, or, as elsewhere, the imperishability of the daylight? (perry, op. cit., p. ). ** rig- veda, viii. , . *** ibid., x. , . **** ibid., x. , . for sayana, see mr. perry's essay, journal a. . s. , p. . thus a fixed tradition of indra's birth is lacking in the veda, and the fluctuating traditions are not very creditable to the purity of the aryan fancy. in personal appearance indra was handsome and ruddy as the sun, but, like odin and heitsi eibib and other gods and wizards, he could assume any shape at will. he was a great charioteer, and wielded the thunderbolt forged for him by tvashtri, the indian hephaestus. his love of the intoxicating soma juice was notorious, and with sacrifices of this liquor his adorers were accustomed to inspire and invigorate him. he is even said to have drunk at one draught thirty bowls of soma. dr. haug has tasted it, but could only manage one teaspoonful. indra's belly is compared by his admirers to a lake, and there seems to be no doubt that they believed the god really drank their soma, as heitsi eibib really enjoys the honey left by the hottentots on his grave. "i have verily resolved to bestow cows and horses. i have quaffed the soma. the draughts which i have drunk impel me as violent blasts. i have quaffed the soma. i surpass in greatness the heaven and the vast earth. i have quaffed the soma. i am majestic, elevated to the heavens. i have quaffed the soma."* so sings the drunken and bemused indra, in the manner of the cyclops in euripides, after receiving the wine, the treacherous gift of odysseus. according to the old commentator sayana, indra got at the soma which inspired him with his drinking-song by assuming the shape of a quail. the great feats of indra, which are constantly referred to, are his slaughter of the serpent vritra, who had taken possession of all the waters, and his recovery of the sun, which had also been stolen.** * rig- veda, x. . ** ibid., , ; iii. , ; viii. , . these myths are usually regarded as allegorical ways of stating that the lightning opens the dark thundercloud, and makes it disgorge the rain and reveal the sun. whether this theory be correct or not, it is important for our purpose to show that the feats thus attributed to indra are really identical in idea with, though more elevated in conception and style, than certain australian, iroquois and thlinkeet legends. in the iroquois myth, as in the australian,* a great frog swallowed all the waters, and was destroyed by ioskeha or some other animal. in thlinkeet legends, yehl, the raven-god, carried off to men the hidden sun and the waters. among these lower races the water-stealer was thought of as a real reptile of some sort, and it is probable that a similar theory once prevailed among the ancestors of the aryans. vritra and ahi, the mysterious foes whom indra slays when he recovers the sun and the waters, were probably once as real to the early fancy as the australian or iroquois frog. the extraordinary myth of the origin of vritra, only found in the brahmanas, indicates the wild imagination of an earlier period. indra murdered a brahman, a three-headed one, it is true, but still a brahman. for this he was excluded from the banquet and was deprived of his favourite soma. he stole a cup of it, and the dregs, thrown into the fire with a magical imprecation, became vritra, whom indra had such difficulty in killing. before attacking vritra, indra supplied himself with dutch courage. "a copious draught of soma provided him with the necessary courage and strength." the terror of the other gods was abject.** after slaying him, he so lost self-possession that in his flight he behaved like odin when he flew off in terror with the head of suttung.*** * brinton, myths of new world, pp. , . see also chapter i. ** perry, op. cit., p. ; rig-veda, v. , , ; iii. , ; iv. , ; viii. , . *** rig-veda, i. , , tells of a flight as headlong as that of apollo after killing the python. mr. perry explains the flight as the rapid journey of the thunderstorm. if our opinion be correct, the elemental myths which abound in the veda are not myths "in the making," as is usually held, but rather myths gradually dissolving into poetry and metaphor. as an example of the persistence in civilised myth of the old direct savage theory that animals of a semi-supernatural sort really cause the heavenly phenomena, we may quote mr. darmesteter's remark, in the introduction to the _zendavesta_: "the storm floods that cleanse the sky of the dark fiends in it were described in a class of myths as the urine of a gigantic animal in the heavens".* a more savage and theriomorphic hypothesis it would be hard to discover among bushmen or nootkas.** probably the serpent vritra is another beast out of the same menagerie. if our theory of the evolution of gods is correct, we may expect to find in the myths of indra traces of a theriomorphic character. as the point in the ear of man is thought or fabled to be a relic of his arboreal ancestry, so in the shape of indra there should, if gods were developed out of divine beasts, be traces of fur and feather. they are not very numerous nor very distinct, but we give them for what they may be worth. the myth of yehl, the thlinkeet raven-god, will not have been forgotten. in his raven gear yehl stole the sacred water, as odin, also in bird form, stole the mead of suttung. we find a similar feat connected with indra. gubernatis says:*** * sacred books of the east, vol. iv. p. lxxxviii. ** the etymology of vritra is usually derived from vn, to "cover," "hinder," "restrain," then "what is to be hindered," then "enemy," "fiend". *** zoological mythology, ii. . "in the _rig-veda_ indra often appears as a hawk. while the hawk carries the ambrosia through the air, he trembles for fear of the archer kricanus, who, in fact, shot off one of his claws, of which the hedgehog was born, according to the _aitareya brahmana_, and according to the vedic hymn, one of his feathers, which, falling on the earth, afterwards became a tree."* indra's very peculiar relations with rams are also referred to by gubernatis.** they resemble a certain repulsive myth of zeus, demeter and the ram referred to by the early christian fathers. in the _satapatha brahmana_*** indra is called "ram of medhatithi," wife of vrishanasva. indra, like loki, had taken the part of a woman.**** in the shape of a ram he carried off medhatithi, an exploit like that of zeus with ganymede.***** in the vedas, however, all the passages which connect indra with animals will doubtless be explained away as metaphorical, though it is admitted that, like zeus, he could assume whatever form he pleased.****** vedic poets, probably of a late period, made indra as anthropomorphic as the homeric zeus. his domestic life in the society of his consort indrani is described.******* when he is starting for the war, indrani calls him back, and gives him a stirrup-cup of soma. he and she quarrel very naturally about his pet monkey.******** in this brief sketch, which is not even a summary, we have shown how much of the irrational element, how much, too, of the humorous element, there is in the myths about indra. he is a drunkard, who gulps down cask, spigot and all.********* * compare rig-veda, iv. . ** zool. myth., i. . *** ii. . **** rig- veda, i. , . ***** ibid., viii. , . ****** ibid., ****** ibid., iii. , . ******* ibid, , - ; vii. , . ******** ibid., x. . ********* ibid. . he is an adulterer and a "shape-shifter," like all medicine-men and savage sorcerers. he is born along with the sheep from the breast of a vast non-natural being, like ymir in scandinavian myth; he metamorphoses himself into a ram or a woman; he rends asunder his father and mother, heaven and earth; he kills his father immediately after his birth, or he is mortal, but has attained heaven by dint of magic, by "austere fervour". now our argument is that these and such as these incongruous and irrational parts of indra's legend have no necessary or natural connection with the worship of him as a nature-god, an elemental deity, a power of sky and storm, as civilised men conceive storm and sky. on the other hand, these legends, of which plenty of savage parallels have been adduced, are obviously enough survivals from the savage intellectual myths, in which sorcerers, with their absurd powers, are almost on a level with gods. and our theory is, that the irrational part of indra's legend became attached to the figure of an elemental divinity, a nature-god, at the period when savage men mythically attributed to their gods the qualities which were claimed by the most illustrious among themselves, by their sorcerers and chiefs. in the vedas the nature-god has not quite disengaged himself from these old savage attributes, which to civilised men seem so irrational. "trailing clouds of" anything but "glory" does indra come "from heaven, which is his home." if the irrational element in the legend of indra was neither a survival of, nor a loan from, savage fancy, why does it tally with the myths of savages? the other adityas, strictly so called (for most gods are styled adityas now and then by way of compliment), need not detain us. we go on to consider the celebrated soma. soma is one of the most singular deities of the indo-aryans. originally soma is the intoxicating juice of a certain plant.* the wonderful personifying power of the early imagination can hardly be better illustrated than by the deification of the soma juice. we are accustomed to hear in the _märchen_ or peasant myths of scotch, russian, zulu and other races, of drops of blood or spittle which possess human faculties and intelligence, and which can reply, for example, to questions. the personification of the soma juice is an instance of the same exercise of fancy on a much grander scale. all the hymns in the ninth book of the _rig- veda_, and many others in other places, are addressed to the milk-like juice of this plant, which, when personified, holds a place almost as high as that of indra in the indo-aryan olympus. the sacred plant was brought to men from the sky or from a mountain by a hawk, or by indra in guise of a hawk, just as fire was brought to other races by a benevolent bird, a raven or a cow. according to the _aitareya brahmana_ (ii. ), the gods bought some from the gandharvas in exchange for one of their own number, who was metamorphosed into a woman, "a big naked woman" of easy virtue. in the _satapatha brahmana_,** the gods, while still they lived on earth, desired to obtain soma, which was then in the sky. * as to the true nature and home of the soma plant, see a discussion in the _academy_, . ** muir, v. . a gandharva robbed the divine being who had flown up and seized the soma, and, as in the _aitareya brahmana_, the gods won the plant back by the aid of vach, a woman-envoy to the amorous gandharvas. the _black yajur veda_ has some ridiculous legends about soma (personified) and his thirty-three wives, their jealousies, and so forth. soma, in the _rig- veda_, is not only the beverage that inspires indra, but is also an anthropomorphic god who created and lighted up the sun,* and who drives about in a chariot. he is sometimes addressed as a kind of atlas, who keeps heaven and earth asunder.** he is prayed to forgive the violations of his law.*** soma, in short, as a personified power, wants little of the attributes of a supreme deity.**** another, and to modern ideas much more poetical personified power, often mentioned in the vedas, is ushas, or the dawn. as among the australians, the dawn is a woman, but a very different being from the immodest girl dressed in red kangaroo-skins of the murri myth. she is an active maiden, who***** "advances, cherishing all things; she hastens on, arousing footed creatures, and makes the birds fly aloft.... the flying birds no longer rest after thy dawning, o bringer of food (?). she has yoked her horses from the remote rising-place of the sun.... resplendent on thy massive car, hear our invocations." ushas is "like a fair girl adorned by her mother.... she has been beheld like the bosom of a bright maiden...." * rig- veda, vi. , . ** ibid., , . *** ibid., viii. , . **** bergaigne, i. . to me it seems that the rishis when hymning soma simply gave him all the predicates of god that came into their heads. cf. bergaigne, i. . **** rig-veda, i. . "born again and again though ancient, shining with an ever uniform hue, she wasteth away the life of mortals." she is the sister of night, and the bright sun is her child. there is no more pure poetry in the vedic collections than that which celebrates the dawn, though even here the rishis are not oblivious of the rewards paid to the sacrificial priests.* dawn is somewhat akin to the homeric eos, the goddess of the golden throne,** she who loved a mortal and bore him away, for his beauty's sake, to dwell with the immortals. once indra, acting with the brutality of the homeric ares, charged against the car of ushas and overthrew it.*** * rig- veda, i. , . ** ibid., i.. , . *** ibid., iv. , ; ait br., iv. . in her legend, however, we find little but pure poetry, and we do not know that ushas, like eos, ever chose a mortal lover. such is the vedic ushas, but the brahmanas, as usual, manage either to retain or to revive and introduce the old crude element of myth. we have seen that the australians account to themselves for the ruddy glow of the morning sky by the hypothesis that dawn is a girl of easy virtue, dressed in the red opossum-skins she has received from her lovers. in a similar spirit the _aitareya brahmana_ (iv. ) offers brief and childish ætiological myths to account for a number of natural phenomena. thus it explains the sterility of mules by saying that the gods once competed in a race; that agni (fire) drove in a chariot drawn by mules and scorched them, so that they do not conceive. but in this race ushas was drawn by red cows; "hence after the coming of dawn there is a reddish colour". the red cows of the brahmana may pair off with the red opossums of the australian imagination. we now approach a couple of deities whose character, as far as such shadowy things can be said to have any character at all, is pleasing and friendly. the asvins correspond in vedic mythology to the dioscuri, the castor and polydeuces of greece. they, like the dioscuri, are twins, are horsemen, and their legend represents them as kindly and helpful to men in distress. but while the dioscuri stand forth in greek legend as clearly and fairly fashioned as two young knights of the panathenaic procession, the asvins show as bright and formless as melting wreaths of mist. the origin of their name has been investigated by the commentator yaska, who "quotes sundry verses to prove that the two asvins belong together" (sic).* the etymology of the name is the subject, as usual, of various conjectures. it has been derived from _asva_, a horse, from the root as, "to pervade," and explained as a patronymic from asva, the sun. the nature of the asvins puzzled the indian commentators no less than their name. who, then, are these asvins? "heaven and earth," say some.** * max müller, _lectures on language_, ii. . ** yaska in the _nirukta_, xii. . see muir, v. . the "some" who held this opinion relied on an etymological guess, the derivation from _as_ "to pervade ". others inclined to explain the asvins as day and night, others as the sun and moon, others--indian euhemerists--as two real kings, now dead and gone. professor roth thinks the asvins contain an historical element, and are "the earliest bringers of light in the morning sky". mr. max müller seems in favour of the two twilights. as to these and allied modes of explaining the two gods in connection with physical phenomena, muir writes thus: "this allegorical method of interpretation seems unlikely to be correct, as it is difficult to suppose that the phenomena in question should have been alluded to under such a variety of names and circumstances. it appears, therefore, to be more probable that the rishis merely refer to certain legends which were popularly current of interventions of the asvins in behalf of the persons whose names are mentioned." in the veda* the asvins are represented as living in fraternal polyandry, with but one wife, surya, the daughter of the sun, between them. they are thought to have won her as the prize in a chariot-race, according to the commentator sayana. "the time of their appearance is properly the early dawn," when they receive the offerings of their votaries.** "when the dark (night) stands among the tawny cows, i invoke you, asvins, sons of the sky."*** they are addressed as young, beautiful, fleet, and the foes of evil spirits. * rig- veda, i. , ; i. , ; x. , (?). ** muir, v. . *** rig-veda, x. , . there can be no doubt that, when the vedas were composed, the asvins shone and wavered and were eclipsed among the bright and cloudy throng of gods, then contemplated by the rishis or sacred singers. whether they had from the beginning an elemental origin, and what that origin exactly was, or whether they were merely endowed by the fancy of poets with various elemental and solar attributes and functions, it may be impossible to ascertain. their legend, meanwhile, is replete with features familiar in other mythologies. as to their birth, the _rig- veda_ has the following singular anecdote, which reminds one of the cloud-bride of ixion, and of the woman of clouds and shadows that was substituted for helen of troy: "tvashtri makes a wedding for his daughter. hearing this, the whole world assembled. the mother of yama, the wedded wife of the great vivasvat, disappeared. they concealed the immortal bride from mortals. making another of like appearance, they gave her to vivasvat. saranyu bore the two asvins, and when she had done so, deserted the twins."* the old commentators explain by a legend in which the daughter of tvashtri, saranyu, took on the shape of a mare. vivasvat followed her in the form of a horse, and she became the mother of the asvins, "sons of the horse," who more or less correspond to castor and pollux, sons of the swan. the greeks were well acquainted with local myths of the same sort, according to which, poseidon, in the form of a horse, had become the parent of a horse by demeter erinnys (saranyu?), then in the shape of a mare. the phigaleians, among whom this tale was current, worshipped a statue of demeter in a woman's shape with a mare's head. the same tale was told of cronus and philyra.** this myth of the birth of gods, who "are lauded as asvins" sprung from a horse,*** may be the result of a mere _volks etymologie_. * rig-veda, x. , - ; bergaigne, ii. , . ** pausanias, viii. ; virgil, georgia, iii. ; muir, v. . see chapter on "greek divine myths," demeter. *** muir,v. . some one may have asked himself what the word asvins meant; may have rendered it "sprung from a horse," and may either have invented, by way of explanation, a story like that of cronus and philyra, or may have adapted such a story, already current in folk-lore, to his purpose; or the myth may be early, and a mere example of the prevalent mythical fashion which draws no line between gods and beasts and men. it will probably be admitted that this and similar tales prove the existence of the savage element of mythology among the aryans of india, whether it be borrowed, or a survival, or an imitative revival. the asvins were usually benefactors of men in every sort of strait and trouble. a quail even invoked them (mr. max müller thinks this quail was the dawn, but the asvins were something like the dawn already), and they rescued her from the jaws of a wolf. in this respect, and in their beauty and youth, they answer to castor and pollux as described by theocritus. "succourers are they of men in the very thick of peril, and of horses maddened in the bloody press of battle, and of ships that, defying the setting and the rising of the stars in heaven, have encountered the perilous breath of storms."* * theoc. idyll, xxii. i. . a few examples of the friendliness of the asvins may be selected from the long list given by muir. they renewed the youth of kali. after the leg of vispala had been cut off in battle, the asvins substituted an iron leg! they restored sight to rijrasva, whom his father had blinded because, in an access of altruism, he had given one hundred and one sheep to a hungry she-wolf. the she-wolf herself prayed to the asvins to succour her benefactor.* they drew the rishi rebha out of a well. they made wine and liquors flow from the hoof of their own horse.** most of the persons rescued, quail and all, are interpreted, of course, as semblances of the dawn and the twilight. goldstucker says they are among "the deities forced by professor müller to support his dawn-theory". m. bergaigne also leans to the theory of physical phenomena. when the asvins restore sight to the blind kanva, he sees no reason to doubt that "the blind kanva is the sun during the night, or agni or soma is concealment". a proof of this he finds in the statement that kanva is "dark"; to which we might reply that "dark" is still a synonym for "blind" among the poor.*** * rig- veda, i. , . ** ibid., i. , . *** bergaigne, rel. ved., ii. , . m. bergaigne's final hypothesis is that the asvins "may be assimilated to the two celebrants who in the beginning seemed to represent the terrestrial and celestial fires". but this origin, he says, even if correctly conjectured, had long been forgotten. beyond the certainty that the asvins represent the element of kindly and healing powers, as commonly conceived of in popular mythology--for example, in the legends of the saints--there is really nothing certain or definite about their original meaning. a god with a better defined and more recognisable department is tvashtri, who is in a vague kind of way the counterpart of the greek hephaestus. he sharpens the axe of brahmanaspiti, and forges the bolts of indra. he also bestows offspring, is a kind of male aphrodite, and is the shaper of all forms human and animal. saranyu is his daughter. professor kuhn connects her with the storm-cloud, mr. max müller with the dawn.* her wedding in the form of a mare to vivasvat in the guise of a horse has already been spoken of and discussed. tvashtri's relations with indra, as we have shown, are occasionally hostile; there is a blood-feud between them, as indra slew tvashtri's three-headed son, from whose blood sprang two partridges and a sparrow.** the maruts are said to be gods of the tempest, of lightning, of wind and of rain. their names, as usual, are tortured on various by the etymologists. mr. max müller connects _maruts_ with the roots _mar_, "to pound," and with the roman war-god mars. others think the root is _mar_, "to shine". benfey*** says "that the maruts (their name being derived from _mar_, 'to die') are personfications of the souls of the departed". * max müller, _lectures on language_, ii. . ** muir, v. , . *** ibid., v. . their numbers are variously estimated. they are the sons of rudra and prisni. rudra as a bull, according to a tale told by sayana, begat the maruts on the earth, which took the shape of a cow. as in similar cases, we may suppose this either to be a survival or revival of a savage myth or a merely symbolical statement. there are traces of rivalry between indra and the maruts. it is beyond question that the rishis regard them as elementary and mainly as storm-gods. whether they were originally ghosts (like the australian mrarts, where the name tempts the wilder kind of etymologists), or whether they are personified winds, or, again, winds conceived as persons (which is not quite the same thing), it is difficult, and perhaps impossible, to determine. though divers of the vedic gods have acquired solar characteristics, there is a regular special sun-deity in the veda, named surya or savitri. he answers to the helios of the homeric hymn to the sun, conceived as a personal being, a form which he still retains in the fancy of the greek islanders.* surya is sometimes spoken of as a child of aditi's or of dyaus and ushas is his wife, though she also lives in spartan polyandry with the asvin twins.** like helios hyperion, he beholds all things, the good and evil deeds of mortals. he is often involved in language of religious fervour.*** the english reader is apt to confuse surya with the female being surya. surya is regarded by grassmann and roth as a feminine personification of the sun.**** m. bergaigne looks on surya as the daughter of the sun or daughter of savitri, and thus as the dawn. savitri is the sun, golden-haired and golden-handed. from the _satapatha brahmana_***** it appears that people were apt to identify savitri with prajapati.****** * bent's _cyclades_. ** rig- veda, vii. , . *** muir, v. - . **** bergaigne, ii. . ***** xiii. , , . ****** the very strange and important personage of prajapati is discussed in the chapter on "indian cosmogonic myths". these blendings of various conceptions and of philosophic systems with early traditions have now been illustrated as far as our space will permit. the natural conclusion, after a rapid view of vedic deities, seems to be that they are extremely composite characters, visible only in the shifting rays of the indian fancy, at a period when the peculiar qualities of indian thought were already sufficiently declared. the lights of ritualistic dogma and of pantheistic and mystic and poetic emotion fall in turn, like the changeful hues of sunset, on figures as melting and shifting as the clouds of evening. yet even to these vague shapes of the divine there clings, as we think has been shown, somewhat of their oldest raiment, something of the early fancy from which we suppose them to have floated up ages before the vedas were compiled in their present form. if this view be correct, vedic mythology does by no means represent what is primitive and early, but what, in order of development, is late, is peculiar, and is marked with the mark of a religious tendency as strongly national and characteristic as the purest semitic monotheism. thus the veda is not a fair starting-point for a science of religion, but is rather, in spite of its antiquity, a temporary though advanced resting-place in the development of indian religious speculation and devotional sentiment.* * in the chapters on india the translation of the _veda_ used is herr ludwig's (prag, ). much is owed to mr. perry's essay on indra, quoted above. chapter xviii. greek divine myths gods in myth, and god in religion--the society of the gods like that of men in homer--borrowed elements in greek belief--zeus--his name--development of his legend--his bestial shapes explained--zeus in religion--apollo--artemis-- dionysus--athene--aphrodite--hermes--demeter--their names, natures, rituals and legends--conclusions. in the gods of greece, when represented in ideal art and in the best religious sentiment, as revealed by poets and philosophers, from homer to plato, from plato to porphyry, there is something truly human and truly divine. it cannot be doubted that the religion of apollo, athene, artemis and hermes was, in many respects, an adoration directed to the moral and physical qualities that are best and noblest. again, even in the oldest greek literature, in homer and in all that follows, the name of the chief god, zeus, might in many places be translated by our word "god".* * _postea_, "zeus". it is god that takes from man half his virtue on the day of slavery; it is god that gives to each his lot in life, and ensures that as his day is so shall his strength be. this spiritual conception of deity, undifferentiated by shape or attributes, or even by name, declares itself in the homeric terms (------------) and in the (------) of herodotus. these are spiritual forces or tendencies ruling the world, and these conceptions are present to the mind, even of homer, whose pictures of the gods are so essentially anthropomorphic; even of herodotus, in all things so cautiously reverent in his acceptation of the popular creeds and rituals. when socrates, therefore, was doomed to death for his theories of religion, he was not condemned so much for holding a pure belief in a spiritual divinity, as for bringing that opinion (itself no new thing) into the marketplace, and thereby shocking the popular religion, on which depended the rites that were believed to preserve the fortune of the state. it is difficult or impossible quite to unravel the tangled threads of mythical legend, of sacerdotal ritual, of local religion, and of refined religious sentiment in greece. even in the earliest documents, the homeric poems, religious sentiment deserts, in moments of deep and serious thought, the brilliant assembly of the olympians, and takes refuge in that fatherhood of the divine "after which all men yearn".* * _odyssey_, iii. . yet, even in pausanias, in the second century of the christian era, and still more in plutarch and porphyry, there remains an awful acquiescence in such wild dogmas and sacred traditions as antiquity handed down. we can hardly determine whether even homer actually believed in his own turbulent cowardly ares, in his own amorous and capricious zeus. did homer, did any educated greek, turn in his thoughts, when pain, or sorrow, or fear fell on him, to a hope in the help of hermes or athene? he was ready to perform all their rites and offer all the sacrifices due, but it may be questioned whether, even in such a god-fearing man as nicias, this ritualism meant more than a desire to "fulfil all righteousness," and to gratify a religious sentiment in the old traditional forms. in examining greek myths, then, it must be remembered that, like all myths, they have far less concern with religion in its true guise--with the yearning after the divine which "is not far from any one of us," after the god "in whom we live, and move, and have our being"--than with the _religio_, which is a tissue of old barbarous fears, misgivings, misapprehensions. the religion which retained most of the myths was that ancient superstition which is afraid of "changing the luck," and which, therefore, keeps up acts of ritual that have lost their significance in their passage from a dark and dateless past. it was the local priesthoods of demes and remote rural places that maintained the old usages of the ancient tribes and kindreds--usages out of keeping with the mental condition of the splendid city state, or with the national sentiment of hellenism. but many of the old tales connected with, and explanatory of, these ritual practices, after "winning their way to the mythical," as thucydides says, won their way into literature, and meet us in the odes of pindar, the plays of Æschylus and sophocles, the notes of commentators, and the apologetic efforts of plutarch and porphyry. it is with these antique stories that the mythologist is concerned. but even here he need not loose his reverence for the nobler aspects of the gods of greece. like the archaeologist and excavator, he must touch with careful hand these-- strange clouded fragments of the ancient glory, late lingerers of the company divine; for even in ruin of their marble limbs they breathe of that far world wherefrom they came, of liquid light and harmonies serene, lost halls of heaven and far olympian air.* "homer and hesiod named the gods for the greeks;" so herodotus thought, and constructed the divine genealogies. though the gods were infinitely older than homer, though a few of them probably date from before the separation of the indo-aryan and hellenic stocks, it is certain that homer and hesiod stereotyped, to some extent, the opinions about the deities which were current in their time.** * ernest myers, hermes, in _the judgment of prometheus_. ** as a proof of the pre-homeric antiquity of zeus, it has often been noticed that homer makes achilles pray to zeus of dodona (the zeus, according to thrasybulus, who aided deucalion after the deluge) as the "pelasgian" zeus (iliad, xvi. ). "pelasgian" may be regarded as equivalent to " pre-historic greek ". sophocles (trach., ; see scholiast) still speaks of the selli, the priests of dodonean zeus, as "mountain-dwelling and couching on the earth ". they retained, it seems, very primitive habits. be it observed that achilles has been praying for confusion and ruin to the achaeans, and so invokes the deity of an older, perhaps hostile, race. probably the oak-oracle at dodona, the message given by "the sound of a going in the tree-tops" or by the doves, was even more ancient than zeus, who, on that theory, fell heir to the rites of a peasant oracle connected with tree-worship. zeus, according to hesiod, "dwelt in the trunk of the oak tree" (cited by preller, i. ), much as an indian forest-god dwells in the peepul or any other tree. it is rather curious that, according to eustathius (_iliad_, xvi. ), "pelargicus," "connected with storks," was sometimes written for pelasgicus; that there was a dodona in thessaly, and that storks were sacred to the thessalians. hesiod codified certain priestly and delphian theories about their origin and genealogies. homer minutely described their politics and society. his description, however, must inevitably have tended to develop a later scepticism. while men lived in city states under heroic kings, acknowledging more or less the common sway of one king at argos or mycenæ, it was natural that the gods (whether in the dark backward of time greece knew a moral creative being or not) should be conceived as dwelling in a similar society, with zeus for their agamemnon, a ruler supreme but not absolute, not safe from attempts at resistance and rebellion. but when greek politics and society developed into a crowd of republics, with nothing answering to a certain imperial sway, then men must have perceived that the old divine order was a mere survival from the time when human society was similarly ordained. thus xenophanes very early proclaimed that men had made the gods in their own likeness, as a horse, could he draw, would design his deity in equine semblance. but the detection by xenophanes of the anthropomorphic tendency in religion could not account for the instinct which made greeks, like other peoples, as aristotle noticed, figure their gods not only in human shape, but in the guise of the lower animals. for that zoomorphic element in myth an explanation, as before, will be sought in the early mental condition which takes no great distinction between man and the beasts. the same method will explain, in many cases, the other peculiarly un-hellenic elements in greek divine myth. yet here, too, allowance must be made for the actual borrowing of rites and legends from contiguous peoples. the greeks were an assimilative race. the alphabet of their art they obtained, as they obtained their written alphabet, from the kingdoms of the east.* like the romans, they readily recognised their own gods, even under the barbarous and brutal disguises of egyptian popular religion; and, while recognising their god under an alien shape, they may have taken over legends alien to their own national character.** again, we must allow, as in india, for myths which are really late, the inventions, perhaps, of priests or oracle-mongers. but in making these deductions, we must remember that the later myths would be moulded, in many cases, on the ancient models. these ancient models, there is reason to suppose, were often themselves of the irrational and savage character which has so frequently been illustrated from the traditions of the lower races. the elder dynasties of greek gods, uranus and cronos, with their adventures and their fall, have already been examined.*** * helbig, _homerwche epos cms dem denhmalern_. perrot and chipiez, on mycenaean art, represent a later view. ** on the probable amount of borrowing in greek religion see maury, religions de la greece, iii. - ; newton, nineteenth century, , p. . gruppe, griech. culte u. mythen., pp. - *** "greek cosmogonic myths," antea. uranus may have been an ancient sky-god, like the samoyed num, deposed by cronus, originally, perhaps, one of the deputy-gods, active where their chief is otiose, whom we find in barbaric theology. but this is mere guess-work. we may now turn to the deity who was the acknowledged sovereign of the greek olympus during all the classical period from the date of homer and hesiod to the establishment of christianity. we have to consider the legend of zeus. it is necessary first to remind the reader that all the legends in the epic poems date after the time when an official and national olympus had been arranged. probably many tribal gods, who had originally no connection with gods of other tribes, had, by homer's age, thus accepted places and relationships in the olympic family. even rude low-born pelasgian deities may have been adopted into the highest circles, and fitted out with a divine pedigree in perfect order. to return to zeus, his birth (whether as the eldest or the youngest of the children of cronus) has already been studied; now we have to deal with his exploits and his character. about the meaning of the name of zeus the philologists seem more than commonly harmonious. they regard the greek zeus as the equivalent of the sanskrit dyaus, "the bright one," a term for the sky.* * max müller, _selected essays_, ii. ; preller, gr. myth., i. . he was especially worshipped on hill-tops (like the aztec rain-god); for example, on ithome, parnes, cithgeron, and the lycaean hill of arcadia. on the arcadian mountain, a centre of the strangest and oldest rites, the priest of zeus acted as what the african races call a "rainmaker". there was on the hill the sacred well of the nymph hagno, one of the nurses of the child zeus. in time of drought the priest of zeus offered sacrifice and prayer to the water according to ritual law, and it would be interesting to know what it was that he sacrificed. he then gently stirred the well with a bough from the oak, the holy tree of the god, and when the water was stirred, a cloud arose like mist, which attracted other clouds and caused rain. as the priest on a mountain practically occupied a meteorological observatory, he probably did not perform these rites till he knew that a "depression" might be expected from one quarter or another.* * see similar examples of popular magic in gervase of tilbury, otia imperiidia; liebrecht, ii. . the citation is due to freller, i. . wonderful feats of rain-prophecy are done by australian seers, according to mrs. langloh parker and others. as soon as we meet zeus in homer, we find that he is looked on, not as the sky, but as the deity who "dwells in the heights of air," and who exercises supreme sway over all things, including storm and wind and cloud. he casts the lightning forth (--------) he thunders on high (--------), he has dark clouds for his covering (--------) all these imposing aspects he is _religiously_ regarded by people who approach him in prayer. these aspects would be readily explained by the theory that zeus, after having been the personal sky, came to be thought a powerful being who dwelt in the sky, if we did not find such beings worshipped where the sky is not yet adored, as in australia. much the same occurred if, as m. maspero points out, in egypt the animals were worshipped first, and then later the gods supposed to be present in the animals. so the sky, a personal sky, was first adored, later a god dwelling in the sky. but it is less easy to show how this important change in opinion took place, if it really occurred. a philological theory of the causes which produced the change is set forth by mr. keary in his book _primitive belief_. in his opinion the sky was first worshipped as a vast non-personal phenomenon, "the bright thing"(_dyaus_). but, to adopt the language of mr. max müller, who appears to hold the same views, "dyaus ceased to be an expressive predicate; it became a traditional name";* it "lost its radical meaning". thus where a man had originally said, "it thunders," or rather "he thunders," he came to say, "dyaus" (that is, the sky) "thunders". * select essays, ii. . next dyaus, or rather the greek form zeus, almost lost its meaning of the sky, and the true sense being partially obscured, became a name supposed to indicate a person. lastly the expression became "zeus thunders," zeus being regarded as a person, because the old meaning of his name, "the sky," was forgotten, or almost forgotten. the _nomen_ (name) has become a _numen_ (god). as mr. keary puts it, "the god stands out as clear and thinkable in virtue of this name as any living friend can be". the whole doctrine resolves itself into this, a phenomenon originally (according to the theory) considered impersonal, came to be looked on as personal, because a word survived in colloquial expressions after it had lost, or all but lost, its original meaning. as a result, 'all the changes and processes of the impersonal sky came to be spoken of as personal actions performed by a personal being, zeus. the record of these atmospheric processes on this theory is the legend of zeus. whatever is irrational and abominable in the conduct of the god is explained as originally a simple statement of meteorological phenomena. "zeus weds his mother;" that must mean the rain descends on the earth, from which it previously arose in vapour. "zeus weds his daughter," that is, the rain falls on the crop, which grew up from the rainy embrace of sky and earth. here then we have the philological theory of the personality and conduct of zeus. to ourselves and those who have followed us the system will appear to reverse the known conditions of the working of the human mind among early peoples. on the philological theory, man first regards phenomena in our modern way as impersonal; he then gives them personality as the result of a disease of language, of a forgetfulness of the sense of words. thus mr. keary writes: "the idea of personality as apart from matter must have been growing more distinct when men could attribute personality to such an abstract phenomenon as the sky ". where is the distinctness in a conception which produces such confusion? we have seen that as the idea of personality becomes more distinct the range of its application becomes narrower, not wider. the savage, it has been thought, attributes personality to everything without exception. as the idea of personality grows more distinct it necessarily becomes less extensive, till we withdraw it from all but intelligent human beings. thus we must look for some other explanation of the personality of zeus, supposing his name to mean the sky. this explanation we find in a survival of the savage mental habit of regarding all phenomena, even the most abstract, as persons. our theory will receive confirmation from the character of the personality of zeus in his myth. not only is he a person, but in myth, as distinct from religion, he is a very savage person, with all the powers of the medicine-man and all the passions of the barbarian. why should this be so on the philological theory? when we examine the legend of zeus, we shall see which explanation best meets the difficulties of the problem. but the reader must again be reminded that the zeus of myth, in homer and elsewhere, is a very different being from the zeus of religion of achilles's prayer, from the zeus whom the athenians implored to rain on their fields, and from the zeus who was the supreme being of the tragedians, of the philosophers, and of later greece. the early career, _la jeunesse orageuse_, of zeus has been studied already. the child of cronus and rhea, countless places asserted their claim to be the scene of his birth, though the cretan claim was most popular.* * hesiod, _theog_., ; paus., iv. , . in crete too was the grave of zeus: a scandal to pious heathendom. the euhemerists made this tomb a proof that zeus was a deified man. preller takes it for an allegory of winter and the death of the god of storm, who in winter is especially active. zeus narrowly escaped being swallowed by his father, and, after expelling and mediatising that deity, he changed his own wife, metis, into a fly, swallowed her, and was delivered out of his own head of athene, of whom his wife had been pregnant. he now became ruler of the world, with his brother poseidon for viceroy, so to speak, of the waters, and his brother hades for lord of the world of the dead. like the earlier years of louis xiv., the earlier centuries of the existence of zeus were given up to a series of amours, by which he, like charles ii., became the father of many noble families. his legitimate wife was his sister hera, whom he seduced before wedlock "without the knowledge of their dear parents," says homer,* who neglects the myth that one of the "dear parents" ate his own progeny, "like him who makes his generation messes to gorge his appetite". hera was a jealous wife, and with good cause.** the christian fathers calculated that he sowed his wild oats and persecuted mortal women with his affections through seventeen generations of men. his amours with his mother and daughters, with deo and persephone, are the great scandals of clemens alexandrinus and arnobius.*** zeus seldom made love _in propria persona_, in all his meteorological pomp. when he thus gratified semele she was burned to a cinder.**** * it is probable that this myth of the seduction of hera is of samian origin, and was circulated to account for and justify the samian custom by which men seduced their loves first and celebrated the marriage afterwards (scholia on _iliad_, xiv. ). "others say that samos was the place where zeus betrayed hera, whence it comes that the samians, when they go a-wooing, anticipate the wedding first in secret, and then celebrate it openly." yet another myth (_iliad_, xiv. , scholiast) accounts for the hatred which zeus displayed to prometheus by the fable that, before her wedding with zeus, hera became the mother of prometheus by the giant eurymedon. euphorion was the authority for this tale. yet another version occurs in the legend of hephaestus. see also schol., _theoc_., xv. . ** iliad, xiv. , . *** arnobius, adv. nat., v. , where the abominations described defy repetition. the myth of a rock which became the mother of the offspring of zeus may recall the maternal flint of aztec legend and the vagaries of iroquois tradition. compare _clemens alex_., oxford, , i. , for the amours of zeus, deo and persephone, with their representations in the mysteries; also arnob., adv. cent., v. . zeus adopted the shape of a serpent in his amour with his daughter. an ancient tarentine sacred ditty is quoted as evidence, _taurus draconem genuit, et taurum draco_, and certain repulsive performances with serpents in the mysteries are additional testimony. **** apollodorus, iii. , . the amour with danae, when zeus became a shower of gold, might be interpreted as a myth of the yellow sunshine. the amours of zeus under the disguise of various animal forms were much more usual, and are familiar to all.* as cronus when in love metamorphosed himself into a stallion, as prajapati pursued his own daughter in the shape of a roebuck, so zeus became a serpent, a bull, a swan, an eagle, a dove,** and, to woo the daughter of cletor, an ant. similar disguises are adopted by the sorcerers among the algonkins for similar purposes. when pund-jel, in the australian myth of the pleiades, was in love with a native girl, he changed himself into one of those grubs in the bark of trees which the blacks think edible, and succeeded as well as zeus did when he became an ant.*** * the mythologists, as a rule, like the heathen opponents of arnobius, clemens and eusebius, explain the amours of zeus as allegories of the fruitful union of heaven and earth, of rain and grain. preller also allows for the effects of human vanity, noble families insisting on tracing themselves to gods. on the whole, says preller, "zeugung in der natur- religion und mythologie, dasselbe ist was schopfung inden deistischen religionen" (i. ). doubtless all these elements come into the legend; the unions of zeus with deo and persephone especially have much the air of a nature-myth told in an exceedingly primitive and repulsive manner. the amours in animal shape are explained in the text as in many cases survivals of the totemistic belief in descent from beasts, sans phrase. **lian., hist vwr., i. . *** dawson, australian aborigines; custom, and myth, p. . it is not improbable that the metamorphosis of zeus into an ant is the result of a _volks-etymologie_ which derived "myrmidons" from (------), an ant. even in that case the conversion of the ant into an avatar of zeus would be an example of the process of gravitation or attraction, whereby a great mythical name and personality attracts to itself floating fables.* the remark of clemens on this last extraordinary intrigue is suggestive. the thessalians, he says, are reputed to worship ants because zeus took the semblance of an ant when he made the daughter of cletor mother of myrmidon. where people worship any animal from whom they claim descent (in this case through myrmidon, the ancestor of the famed myrmidons), we have an example of stiraight forward totemism. to account for the adoration of the animal on the hypothesis that it was the incarnation of a god, is the device which has been observed in egyptian as in samoan religion, and in that of aboriginal indian tribes, whose animal gods become saints "when the brahmans get a turn at them".** the most natural way of explaining such tales about the amours and animal metamorphoses of so great a god, is to suggest that zeus inherited,*** as it were, legends of a lower character long current among separate families and in different localities. in the same way, where a stone had been worshipped, the stone was, in at least one instance, dubbed with the name of zeus.**** * clemens, p. . ** see mr. h. h. risley on "primitive marriage in bengal," in _astatic quarterly review_, june, . *** in pausanias's opinion cecrops first introduced the belief in zeus, the most highest. **** paus., iii. , l; but the reading is doubtful. the tradition of descent from this or that beast or plant has been shown to be most widely prevalent. on the general establishment of a higher faith in a national deity, these traditions, it is presumed, would not wholly disappear, but would be absorbed into the local legend of the god. the various beasts would become sacred to him, as the sheep was sacred to hera in samos, according to mandrobulus,* and images of the animals would congregate in his temple. the amours of zeus, then, are probably traceable to the common habit of deriving noble descents from a god, and in the genealogical narrative older totemistic and other local myths found a place.** apart from his intrigues, the youth of zeus was like that of some masquerading and wandering king, such as james v. in scotland. though plato, in the _republic_, is unwilling that the young should be taught how the gods go about disguised as strangers, this was their conduct in the myths. thus we read of lycaon and his fifty sons, whom zeus in their own house spied on, and unawares watching at hand, from his disguise arose, and overset the table where they sat around their impious feast, and slew them all.*** clemens of alexandria**** contrasts the "human festival" of zeus among the ethiopians with the inhuman banquet offered to him by lycaon in arcadia.***** * op. clem. alex., i. . ** compare heyne, observ. in apollodor., i. , . *** bridges, _prometheus the firegiver_. **** clem. alex., l . ***** paus., viii. , l. the permanence of arcadian human sacrifice has already been alluded to, and it is confirmed by the superstition that whoever tasted the human portion in the mess sacrificed to zeus became a were-wolf, resuming his original shape if for ten years he abstained from the flesh of men.* a very quaint story of the domestic troubles of zeus was current in plataea, where it was related at the festival named _dædala_. it was said that hera, indignant at the amours of her lord, retired to euboæ. zeus, wishing to be reconciled to her, sought the advice of cithæron, at that time king of platæa. by his counsel the god celebrated a sham marriage with a wooden image, dressed up to personate plataea, daughter of asopus. hera flew to the scene and tore the bridal veil, when, discovering the trick, she laughed, and was reconciled to her husband.** probably this legend was told to explain some incident of ritual or custom in the feast of the dædala, and it is certainly a more innocent myth than most that were commemorated in local mystery-plays. * the wolves connected with the worship of zeus, like his rams, goats, and other animals, are commonly explained as mythical names for elemental phenomena, clouds and storms. thus the ram's fleece, (--------), used in certain expiatory rites (hesych., s. v., lobeck, p. ), is presumed by preller to be a symbol of the cloud. in the same way his regis or goat-skin is the storm-wind or the thunder-cloud. the opposite view will be found in professor robertson smith's article on "sacrifice" in _encyc. brit_., where the similar totemistic rites of the lower races are adduced. the elemental theory is set forth by decharme, _mythologie de la grece antique_ (paris, ), p. . for the "storm-wolf," see preller, i. . it seems a little curious that the wolf, which, on the solar hypothesis, was a brilliant beast connected with the worship of the sun-god, apollo lycaeus, becomes a cloud or storm-wolf when connected with zeus. on the whole subject of the use of the skins of animals as clothing of the god or the ministrant, see lobeck, _aglaoph_., pp. - , and robertson smith, op. cit. ** paus., ix. , . it was not only when he was _en bonne fortune_ that zeus adopted the guise of a bird or beast. in the very ancient temple of hera near mycenae there was a great statue of the goddess, of gold and ivory, the work of polycletus, and therefore comparatively modern. in one hand the goddess held a pomegranate, in the other a sceptre, on which was perched a cuckoo, like the latin woodpecker picus on his wooden post. about the pomegranate there was a myth which pausanias declines to tell, but he does record the myth of the cuckoo. "they say that when zeus loved the yet virgin hera, he changed himself into a cuckoo, which she pursued and caught to be her playmate." pausanias admits that he did not believe this legend. probably it was invented to account for the companionship of the cuckoo, which, like the cow, was one of the sacred animals of hera. myths of this class are probably later than the period in which we presume the divine relationships of gods and animals to have passed out of the totemistic into the samoan condition of belief. the more general explanation is, that the cuckoo, as a symbol of the vernal season, represents the heaven in its wooing of the earth. on the whole, as we have tried to show, the symbolic element in myth is late, and was meant to be explanatory of rites and usages whose original significance was forgotten. it would be unfair to assume that a god was disrespectfully viewed by his earliest worshippers because ætiological, genealogical, and other myths, crystallised into his legend. an extremely wild legend of zeus was current among the galatæ, where pausanias expressly calls it a "local myth," differing from the lydian variant. zeus in his sleep became, by the earth, father of attes, va being both male and female in his nature. agdistis was the local name of this enigmatic character, whom the gods feared and mutilated. from the blood grew up, as in so many myths, an almond tree. the daughter of sangarius, nana, placed some of the fruit in her bosom, and thereby became pregnant, like the girl in the kalewala by the berry, or the mother of huitzilopochtli, in mexico, by the floating feather. the same set of ideas recurs in grimm's _märchen machandelhoom_,* if we may suppose that in an older form the juniper tree and its berries aided the miraculous birth.** it is customary to see in these wild myths a reflection of the phrygian religious tradition, which leads up to the birth of atys, who again is identified with adonis as a hero of the spring and the reviving year. but the story has been introduced in this place as an example of the manner in which floating myths from all sources gravitate towards one great name and personality, like that of zeus. it would probably be erroneous to interpret these and many other myths in the vast legend of zeus, as if they had originally and intentionally described the phenomena of the heavens. they are, more probably, mere accretions round the figure of zeus conceived as a personal god, a "magnified non-natural man".*** * mrs. hunt's translation, i. . ** for parallels to this myth in chinese, aztec, indian, phrygian and other languages, see _le fils de la vierge_, by m. h. de charency, havre, . see also "les deux freres" in m. maspero's _contes egyptians_ ***as to the agdistis myth, m. de charency writes (after quoting forms of the tale from all parts of the world), "this resemblance between different shapes of the same legend, among nations separated by such expanses of land and sea, may be brought forward as an important proof of the antiquity of the myth, as well as of the distant date at which it began to be diffused". another example of local accretion is the fable that zeus, after carrying off ganymede to be his cupbearer, made atonement to the royal family of troy by the present of a vine of gold fashioned by hephaestus.* the whole of the myth of callisto, again, whom zeus loved, and who bore areas, and later was changed into a bear, and again into a star, is clearly of local arcadian origin. if the arcadians, in very remote times, traced their descent from a she-bear, and if they also, like other races, recognised a bear in the constellation, they would naturally mix up those fables later with the legend of the all-powerful zeus.** * scholia on _odyssey_, xl ; iliad, xx. ; eurip., orestes, , and scholiast quoting the _little iliad_. ** compare c. o. müller, _introduction to a scientific system of mythology_, london, , pp. , ; pausaniaa, i , , viii. , . so far we have studied some of the details in the legend of zeus which did not conspicuously win their way into the national literature. the object has been to notice a few of the myths which appear the most ancient, and the most truly native and original. these are the traditions preserved in mystery-plays, tribal genealogies, and temple legends, the traditions surviving from the far off period of the village greeks. it has already been argued, in conformity with the opinion of c. o. müller, that these myths are most antique and thoroughly local. "any attempt to explain these myths in order, such, for instance, as we now find them in the collection of apollodorus, as a system of thought and knowledge, must prove a fruitless task." equally useless is it to account for them all as stories originally told to describe, consciously or unconsciously, or to explain any atmospheric and meteorological phenomena. zeus is the bright sky; granted, but the men who told how he became an ant, or a cuckoo, or celebrated a sham wedding with a wooden image, or offered troy a golden vine, "the work of hephaestus," like other articles of jewellery, were not thinking of the bright sky when they repeated the story. they were merely strengthening some ancient family or tribal tradition by attaching it to the name of a great, powerful, personal being, an immortal. this being, not the elemental force that was zeus, not the power "making for righteousness" that is zeus, not the pure spiritual ruler of the world, the zeus of philosophy, is the hero of the myths that have been investigated. in the tales that actually won their way into national literature, beginning with homer, there is observable the singular tendency to combine, in one figure, the highest religious ideas with the fables of a capricious, and often unjust and lustful supernatural being. taking the myths first, their contrast with the religious conception of zeus will be the more remarkable. zeus is the king of all gods and father of some, but he cannot keep his subjects and family always in order. in the first book of the _iliad_, achilles reminds his mother, the sea-nymph thetis, how she once "rescued the son of cronus, lord of the storm-clouds, from shameful wreck, when all other olympians would have bound him, even hera, and poseidon, and pallas athene ". thetis brought the hundred-handed briareus to the help of the outnumbered and over-mastered zeus. then zeus, according to the scholiast, hung hera out of heaven in chains, and gave apollo and poseidon for slaves to laomedon, king of troy. so lively was the recollection of this _coup d'etat_ in olympus, that hephaestus implores hera (his mother in homer) not to anger zeus, "lest i behold thee, that art so dear, chastised before mine eyes, and then shall i not be able to save thee for all my sorrow".* he then reminds hera how zeus once tossed him out of heaven (as the master of life tossed ataentsic in the iroquois myth), and how he fell in lemnos, "and little life was left in me". the passage is often interpreted as if the fall of hephaestus, the fire-god, were a myth of lightning; but in homer assuredly the incident has become thoroughly personal, and is told with much humour. the offence of hera was the raising of a magic storm (which she could do as well as any lapland witch) and the wrecking of heracles on cos. for this she was chained and hung out of heaven, as on the occasion already described.** * iliad, i. . ** ibid., ; scholia, xiv. . the myth is derived from pherecydes. the constant bickerings between hera and zeus in the _iliad_ are merely the reflection in the upper olympian world of the wars and jealousies of men below. ilios is at war with argos and mycenae, therefore the chief protecting gods of each city take part in the strife. this conception is connected with the heroic genealogies. noble and royal families, as in most countries, feigned a descent from the gods. it followed that zeus was a partisan of his "children," that is, of the royal houses in the towns where he was the most favoured deity. thus hera when she sided with mycenæ had a double cause of anger, and there is an easy answer to the question, _quo numine læso?_ she had her own townsmen's quarrel to abet, and she had her jealousy to incite her the more; for to become father of the human families zeus must have been faithless to her. indeed, in a passage (possibly interpolated) of the fourteenth _iliad_ he acts as his own leporello, and recites the list of his conquests. the perseidæ, the heraclidæ, the pirithoidæ, with dionysus, apollo and artemis spring from the amours there recounted.* moved by such passions, hera urges on the ruin of troy, and zeus accuses her of a cannibal hatred. "perchance wert thou to enter within the gates and long walls, and devour priam raw, and priam's sons, and all the trojans, then mightest thou assuage thine anger."** that great stumbling-block of greek piety, the battle in which the gods take part,*** was explained as a physical allegory by the neo-platonists.**** it is in reality only a refraction of the wars of men, a battle produced among the heavenly folk by men's battles, as the earthly imitations of rain in the vedic ritual beget rain from the firmament. the favouritism which zeus throughout shows to athene***** is explained by that rude and ancient myth of her birth from his brain after he had swallowed her pregnant mother.****** * pherecydes is the authority for the treble night, in which zeus persuaded the sun not to rise when he wooed alemena. ** see the whole passage, iliad, iv. . *** ibid., v. . **** scholia, ed. dindorf, vol iii.; ibid., v. . *****ibid., v. . ****** cf. "hymn to apollo pythius," . but zeus cannot allow the wars of the gods to go on unreproved, and* he asserts his power, and threatens to cast the offenders into tartarus, "as far beneath hades as heaven is high above earth". here the supremacy of zeus is attested, and he proposes to prove it by the sport called "the tug of war". he says, "fasten ye a chain of gold from heaven, and all ye gods lay hold thereof, and all goddesses, yet could ye not drag from heaven to earth zeus, the supreme counsellor, not though ye strove sore. but if once i were minded to drag with all my heart, then i could hang gods and earth and sea to a pinnacle of olympus."** the supremacy claimed here on the score of strength, "by so much i am beyond gods and men," is elsewhere based on primogeniture,*** though in hesiod zeus is the youngest of the sons of cronos. but there is, as usual in myth, no consistent view, and zeus cannot be called omnipotent. not only is he subject to fate, but his son heracles would have perished when he went to seek the hound of hell but for the aid of athene.**** gratitude for his relief does not prevent zeus from threatening athene as well as hera with tartarus, when they would thwart him in the interest of the achæans. hera is therefore obliged to subdue him by the aid of love and sleep, in that famous and beautiful passage,***** which is so frankly anthropomorphic, and was such a scandal to religious minds.****** * iliad, viii. ad init. ** m. decharme regards this challenge to the tug of war as a very noble and sublime assertion of supreme sovereignty. myth, de la greece, p. . *** iliad, xv. . **** ibid., viii. . *****ibid., adv. - . ****** schol. iliad, xiv. ; dindorf, vol. iv. in the scholiast's explanation the scene is an allegorical description of spring; the wrath of hera is the remains of winter weather; her bath represents the april showers; when she busks her hair, the new leaves on the boughs, "the high leafy tresses of the trees," are intended, and so forth. not to analyse the whole divine plot of the _iliad_, such is zeus in the mythical portions of the epic. he is the father and master of gods and men, and the strongest; but he may be opposed, he may be deceived and cajoled; he is hot- tempered, amorous, luxurious, by no means omnipotent or omniscient. he cannot avert even from his children the doom that fate span into the threads at their birth; he is no more omniscient than omnipotent, and if he can affect the weather, and bring storm and cloud, so at will can the other deities, and so can any sorcerer, or jossakeed, or biraark of the lower races. in homeric religion, as considered apart from myth, in the religious thoughts of men at solemn moments of need, or dread, or prayer, zeus holds a far other place. all power over mortals is in his hands, and is acknowledged with almost the fatalism of islam. "so meseems it pleaseth mighty zeus, who hath laid low the head of many a city, yea, and shall lay low, for his is the highest power."* it is zeus who gives sorrows to men,** and he has, in a mythical picture, two jars by him full of evil and good, which he deals to his children on earth. in prayer*** he is addressed as zeus, most glorious, most great, veiled in the storm-cloud, that dwelleth in the heaven. he gives his sanction to the oath:**** * _iliad_, ii. . ** ibid., . *** ibid., . **** ibid., iii . "thou sun, that seest all, father zeus, that rulest from ida, most glorious, most great, and things, and nearest all things, and ye rivers, and thou earth, and ye that in the underworld punish men forsworn, whosoever sweareth falsely, be ye witnesses, and watch over the faithful oath". again it is said: "even if the olympian bring not forth the fulfilment" (of the oath) "at once, yet doth he fulfil at the last, and men make dear amends, even with their own heads, and their wives and little ones".* again, "father zeus will be no helper of liars ".** as to the religious sentiment towards zeus of a truly devout man in that remote age, homer has left us no doubt. in eumæus the swineherd of odysseus, a man of noble birth stolen into slavery when a child, homer has left a picture of true religion and undefiled. eumæus attributes everything that occurs to the will of the gods, with the resignation of a child of islam or a scot of the solemn league and covenant.*** "from zeus are all strangers and beggars," he says, and believes that hospitality and charity are well pleasing in the sight of the olympian. when he flourishes, "it is god that increaseth this work of mine whereat i abide". he neither says "zeus" nor "the gods," but in this passage simply "god". "verily the blessed gods love not froward deeds, but they reverence justice and the righteous acts of men;" yet it is "zeus that granteth a prey to the sea-robbers". it is the gods that rear telemachus like a young sapling, yet is it the gods who "mar his wits within him" when he sets forth on a perilous adventure. it is to zeus cronion that the swineherd chiefly prays,**** but he does not exclude the others from his supplication.***** * _iliad_, iv. . ** ibid., iv. . *** _odyssey_, xiv. passim, **** ibid., . ***** _odyssey_, iv. . being a man of scrupulous piety, when he slays a swine for supper, he only sets aside a seventh portion "for hermes and the nymphs" who haunt the lonely uplands.** yet his offering has no magical intent of constraining the immortals. "one thing god will give, and another withhold, even as he will, for with him all things are possible."*** such is a homeric ideal of piety, and it would only gain force from contrast with the blasphemy of aias, "who said that in the god's despite he had escaped the great deep of the sea ".**** ** ibid., xiv. . *** ibid., , . **** ibid., iv. . the epics sufficiently prove that a noble religion may coexist with a wild and lawless mythology. that ancient sentiment of the human heart which makes men listen to a human voice in the thunder and yearn for immortal friends and helpers, lives its life little disturbed by the other impulse which inspires men when they come to tell stories and romances about the same transcendent beings. as to the actual original form of the faith in zeus, we can only make guesses. to some it will appear that zeus was originally the clear bright expanse which was taken for an image or symbol of the infinite. others will regard zeus as the bright sky, but the bright sky conceived of in savage fashion, as a being with human parts and passions, a being with all the magical accomplishments of metamorphosis, rain-making and the rest, with which the medicine-man is credited. a third set of mythologists, remembering how gods and medicine-men have often interchangeable names, and how, for example, the australian biraark, who is thought to command the west wind, is himself styled "west wind," will derive zeus from the ghost of some ancestral sorcerer named "sky". this euhemerism seems an exceedingly inadequate explanation of the origin of zeus. in his moral aspect zeus again inherits the quality of that supernatural and moral watcher of man's deeds who is recognised (as we have seen) even by the most backward races, and who, for all we can tell, is older than any beast-god or god of the natural elements. thus, whatever zeus was in his earliest origin, he had become, by the time we can study him in ritual, poem or sacred chapter, a complex of qualities and attributes, spiritual, moral, elemental, animal and human. it is curious that, on our theory, the mythical zeus must have morally degenerated at a certain period as the zeus of religion more and more approached the rank of a pure and almost supreme deity. on our hypothesis, it was while greece was reaching a general national consciousness, and becoming more than an aggregate of small local tribes, that zeus attracted the worst elements of his myth. in deposing or relegating to a lower rank a crowd of totems and fetishes and ancestral ghosts, he inherited the legends of their exploits. these were attached to him still more by the love of genealogies derived from the gods. for each such pedigree an amour was inevitably invented, and, where totems had existed, the god in this amour borrowed the old bestial form. for example, if a thessalian stock had believed in descent from an ant, and wished to trace their pedigree to zeus, they had merely to say, "zeus was that ant". once more, as zeus became supreme among the other deities of men in the patriarchal family condition, those gods were grouped round him as members of his family, his father, mother, brothers, sisters, wife, mistresses and children. here was a noble field in which the mythical fancy might run riot; hence came stories of usurpations, rebellions, conjugal skirmishes and jealousies, a whole world of incidents in which humour had free play. nor would foreign influences be wanting. a wandering greek, recognising his zeus in a deity of phoenicia or babylon, might bring home some alien myth which would take its place in the general legend, with other myths imported along with foreign objects of art, silver bowls and inlaid swords. thus in all probability grew the legend of the zeus of myth, certainly a deplorable legend, while all the time the greek intellect was purifying itself and approaching the poetical, moral and philosophical conception of the zeus of religion. at last, in the minds of the philosophically religious, zeus became pure deity, and the details of the legend were explained away by this or that system of allegory; while in the minds of the sceptical, zeus yielded his throne to the "vortex" of the aristophanic comedy. thus zeus may have begun as a kindly supreme being; then ætiological and totemistic myths may have accrued to his legend, and, finally, philosophic and pious thought introduced a rational conception of his nature. but myth lived on, ritual lived on, and human victims were slain on the altars of zeus till christianity was the established religion. "solet it be," says pausanias, "as it hath been from the beginning." the gods who fill the court of zeus and surround his throne are so numerous that a complete account of each would exceed the limits of our space. the legend of zeus is typical, on the whole, of the manner in which the several mythical chapters grew about the figures of each of the deities. some of these were originally, it is probable, natural forces or elemental phenomena, conceived of at first as personal beings; while, later, the personal earth or sun shaded off into the informing genius of the sun or earth, and still later was almost freed from all connection with the primal elemental phenomenon or force. in these processes of evolution it seems to have happened occasionally that the god shed, like a shell or chrysalis, his original form, which continued to exist, however, as a deity of older family and inferior power. by such processes, at least, it would not be difficult to explain the obvious fact that several gods have "under-studies" of their parts in the divine comedy. it may be well to begin a review of the gods by examining those who were, or may be supposed to have been, originally forces or phenomena of nature. apollo. this claim has been made for almost all the olympians, but in some cases appears more plausible than in others. for example, apollo is regarded as a solar divinity, and the modes in which he attained his detached and independent position as a brilliant anthropomorphic deity, patron of art, the lover of the nymphs, the inspirer of prophecy, may have been something in this fashion. first the sun may have been regarded (in the manner familiar to savage races) as a personal being. in homer he is still the god "who sees and hears all things,"* and who beholds and reveals the loves of ares and aphrodite. this personal character of the sun is well illustrated in the homeric hymn to hyperion, the sun that dwells on high, where, as mr. max müller says, "the words would seem to imply that the poet looked upon helios as a half-god, almost as a hero, who had once lived upon earth".** it has already been shown that this mythical theory of the origin of the sun is met with among the aztecs and the bushmen.*** in homer, the sun, helios hyperion, though he sees and hears all things,**** needs to be informed by one of the nymphs that the companions of odysseus have devoured his sacred cattle. in the same way the supreme baiame of australia needs to ask questions of mortals. apollo then speaks in the olympian assembly, and threatens that if he is not avenged he will "go down to hades and shine among the dead". the sun is capable of marriage, as in the bulgarian _volkslied_, where he marries a peasant girl,***** and, by perse, he is the father of circe and Æetes.****** * _odyssey_, viii. . ** _selected essays_, i. , note . *** "nature myths," antea. **** _iliad_, iii. . ***** dozon, _chansons bulgares_. ****** _odyssey_, x. . according to the early lyric poet stesichorus, the sun sails over ocean in a golden cup or bowl. "then helios hyperionides went down into his golden cup to cross ocean-stream, and come to the deeps of dark and sacred night, to his mother, and his wedded wife, and his children dear." this belief, in more barbaric shape, still survives in the greek islands.* "the sun is still to them a giant, like hyperion, bloodthirsty when tinged with gold. the common saying is that the sun 'when he seeks his kingdom' expects to find forty loaves prepared for him by his mother.... woe to her if the loaves be not ready! the sun eats his brothers, sisters, father and mother in his wrath."** a well-known amour of helios was his intrigue with rhode by whom he had phaethon and his sisters. the tragedians told how phaethon drove the chariot of the sun, and upset it, while his sisters were turned into poplar trees, and their tears became amber.*** * bent's _cyclades_, p. . ** stesichorus, _poetæ lyrici græci_, pomtow, vol. i. p. ; qf. also mimnermus, op. cit.,i. . *** _odyssey_, xvii. ; scholiast. the story is ridiculed by lucian, de electro. such were the myths about the personal sun, the hero or demigod, helios hyperion. if we are to believe that apollo also is a solar deity, it appears probable that he is a more advanced conception, not of the sun as a person, but of a being who represents the sun in the spiritual world, and who exercises, by an act of will, the same influence as the actual sun possesses by virtue of his rays. thus he brings pestilence on the achæans in the first book of the _iliad_, and his viewless shafts slay men suddenly, as sunstroke does. it is a pretty coincidence that a german scholar, otfried müller, who had always opposed apollo's claim to be a sun-god, was killed by a sunstroke at delphi. the god avenged himself in his ancient home. but if this deity was once merely the sun, it may be said, in the beautiful phrase of paul de st. victor, "pareil a une statue qui surgit des flammes de son moule, apollo se degage vite du soleil".* he becomes a god of manifold functions and attributes, and it is necessary to exercise extreme caution in explaining any one myth of his legend as originally a myth of the sun.** _phoibos_ certainly means "the brilliant" or "shining". it is, however, unnecessary to hold that such epithets as _lyceius, lycius, lycegenes_ indicate "light," and are not connected, as the ancients, except macrobius, believed, with the worship of the wolf.*** the character of apollo as originally a sun-god is asserted on the strength not only of his names, but of many of his attributes and his festivals. it is pointed out that he is the deity who superintends the measurement of time.**** "the chief days in the year's reckoning, the new and full moons and the seventh and twentieth days of the month, also the beginning of the solar year, are reckoned apolline." that curious ritual of the daphnephoria, familiar to many english people from sir frederick leighton's picture, is believed to have symbolised the year. proclus says that a staff of olive wood decorated with flowers supported a central ball of brass beneath which was a smaller ball, and thence little globes were hung.***** * _homines et dieux_, p. . ** there is no agreement nor certainty about the etymology and original meaning of the name apollo. see preller, or. myth., i. . "comparative philologists have not yet succeeded in finding the true etymology of apollo" (max müller, _selected essays_, i. ). *** compare zeus lyceius and his wolf-myths; compare also roscher, _ausfukrliches_ lexikon, p. . **** _sonnengott als zeitordner_, roscher, op. cit., p. . ***** cf. photius, bibl., . the greater ball means the sun, the smaller the moon, the tiny globes the stars and the laurel garlands used in the feast are understood to symbolise the days. pausanias* says that the ceremony was of extreme antiquity. heracles had once been the youth who led the procession, and the tripod which amphitryon dedicated for him was still to be seen at thebes in the second century of our era. another proof of apollo's connection with the sun is derived from the cessation of his rites at delphi during the three winter months which were devoted to dionysus.** the sacred birthday feasts of the god are also connected with the year's renewal.*** once more, his conflict with the great dragon, the pytho, is understood as a symbol of the victory of light and warmth over the darkness and cold of winter. the discomfiture of a dragon by a god is familiar in the myth of the defeat of ahi or vritra by indra, and it is a curious coincidence that apollo, like indra, fled in terror after slaying his opponent. apollo, according to the myth, was purified of the guilt of the slaying (a ceremony unknown to homer) at tempe.**** according to the myth, the python was a snake which forbade access to the chasm whence rose the mysterious fumes of divination. apollo slew the snake and usurped the oracle. his murder of the serpent was more or less resented by the delphians of the time.***** * i ix. , . ** plutarch, depa el. delph., . *** roscher, op. cit., p. . **** proclus, chresl, ed. gaisford, p. ; homer, hymn to apollo, , ; apollod., i. , ; plutarch, quæst. groec., . ***** apollod., heyne, observationes, p. . compare the scholiast on the argument to pindar's pythian odes. the snake, like the other animals, frogs and lizards, in andaman, australian and iroquois myth, had swallowed the waters before its murder.* whether the legend of the slaying of the python was or was not originally an allegory of the defeat of winter by sunlight, it certainly at a very early period became mixed up with ancient legal ideas and local traditions. it is almost as necessary for a young god or hero to slay monsters as for a young lady to be presented at court; and we may hesitate to explain all these legends of an useful feat of courage as nature-myths. in the homeric hymn to apollo pythius, the monster is called _dracæna_, the female form of _drakon_. the drakos and his wife are still popular bogies in modern greek superstition and folk-song.** * preller, i. . ** forchhammer takes the _dracæna_ to be a violent winter torrent, dried up by the sun's rays. cf. decharme, myth. orec., p. . it is also conjectured that the snake is only the sacred serpent of the older oracle of the earth on the same site. Æschylus, _eumenides_, . the monster is the fosterling of hera in the homeric hymn, and the bane of flocks and herds. she is somehow connected with the fable of the birth of the monster typhoeus, son of hera without a father. the homeric hymn derives _pythius_, the name of the god, from (------), "rot," the disdainful speech of apollo to the dead monster, "for there the pest rotted away beneath the beams of the sun". the derivation is a _volks-etymologie_. it is not clear whether the poet connected in his mind the sun and the god. the local legend of the dragon-slaying was kept alive in men's minds at delphi by a mystery-play, in which the encounter was represented in action. in one version of the myth the slavery of apollo in the house of admetus was an expiation of the dragon's death.* through many of the versions runs the idea that the slaying of the serpent was a deed which required purification and almost apology. if the serpent was really the deity of an elder faith, this would be intelligible, or, if he had kinsfolk, a serpent-tribe in the district, we could understand it. apollo's next act was to open a new spring of water, as the local nymph was hostile and grudged him her own. this was an inexplicable deed in a sun god, whose business it is to dry up rather than to open water-springs. he gave oracles out of the laurel of delphi, as zeus out of the oaks of dodona.** presently apollo changed himself into a huge dolphin, and in this guise approached a ship of the cretan mariners.*** he guided, in his dolphin shape, the vessel to crisa, the port of delphi, and then emerged splendid from the waters, and filled his fane with light, a sun-god indeed next, assuming the shape of a man, he revealed himself to the cretans, and bade them worship him in his _delphic_ seat as apollo delphinios, the dolphin-apollo. * eurip., alcestis, schol., line . ** hymn, . *** op. cit., - . such is the ancient tale of the founding of the delphic oracle, in which gods, and beasts, and men are mixed in archaic fashion. it is open to students to regard the dolphin as only one of the many animals whose earlier worship is concentrated in apollo, or to take the creature for the symbol of spring, when seafaring becomes easier to mortals, or to interpret the dolphin as the result of a _volks-etymologie_, in which the name delphi (meaning originally a hollow in the hills) was connected with _delphis_, the dolphin.* on the whole, it seems impossible to get a clear view of apollo as a sun-god from a legend built out of so many varied materials of different dates as the myth of the slaying of the python and the founding of the delphic oracle. nor does the tale of the birth of the god--_les enfances apollon_--yield much more certain information. the most accessible and the oldest form of the birth-myth is preserved in the homeric hymn to the delian apollo, a hymn intended for recital at the delian festival of the ionian people. the hymn begins without any account of the amours of zeus and leto; it is merely said that many lands refused to allow leto a place wherein to bring forth her offspring. but barren delos listened to her prayer, and for nine days leto was in labour, surrounded by all the goddesses, save jealous hera and eilithyia, who presides over child-birth. to her iris went with the promise of a golden necklet set with amber studs, and eilithyia came down to the isle, and leto, grasping the trunk of a palm tree, brought forth apollo and artemis.** such is the narrative of the hymn, in which some interpreters, such as m. decharme, find a rich allegory of the birth of light. leto is regarded as night or darkness, though it is now admitted that this meaning cannot be found in the etymology of her name.*** * roscher, lexikon; preller, i. ; schol. ad lycophr., v. . ** compare theognis, - . *** preller, i. , note ; curtius, gr. Æ, . m. decharme presumes that the palm tree (------) originally meant the morning red, by aid of which night gives birth to the sun, and if the poet says the young god loves the mountain tops, why, so does the star of day. the moon, however, does not usually arise simultaneously with the dawn, as artemis was born with apollo. it is vain, in fact, to look for minute touches of solar myth in the tale, which rests on the womanly jealousy of hera, and explains the existence of a great fane and feast of apollo, not in one of the rich countries that refused his mother sanctuary, but in a small barren and remote island.* among the wilder myths which grouped themselves round the figure of apollo was the fable that his mother leto was changed into a wolf. the fable ran that leto, in the shape of a wolf, came in twelve days from the hyperboreans to delos.** this may be explained as a _volks-etymologie_ from the god's name, "lycegenes," which is generally held to mean "born of light". but the presence of very many animals in the apollo legend and in his temples, corresponding as it does to similar facts already observed in the religion of the lower races, can scarcely be due to popular etymologies alone. the dolphin-apollo has already been remarked. * the french excavators in delos found the original unhewn stone on which, in later days, the statue of the anthropomorphic god was based. ** aristotle, hist. an., vi ; elian., n. a., iv. ; schol. on apol. rhod., ii. there are many traces of connection between apollo and the wolf. in athens there was the lyceum of apollo lukios, wolf-apollo, which tradition connected with the primeval strife wherein Ægeus (goat-man) defeated lukios (wolfman). the lukian apollo was the deity of the defeated side, as athene of the Ægis (goat-skin) was the deity of the victors.* the argives had an apollo of the same kind, and the wolf was stamped on their coins.** according to pausanias, when danaus came seeking the kingship of argos, the people hesitated between him and gelanor. while they were in doubt, a wolf attacked a bull, and the argives determined that the bull should stand for gelanor, the wolf for danaus. the wolf won; danaus was made king, and in gratitude raised an altar to _apollo lukios_, wolf-apollo. that is (as friends of the totemic system would argue), a man of the wolf-stock dedicated a shrine to the wolf-god.*** in delphi the presence of a bronze image of a wolf was explained by the story that a wolf once revealed the place where stolen temple treasures were concealed. the god's beast looked after the god's interest.**** in many myths the children of apollo by mortal girls were exposed, but fostered by wolves.***** in direct contradiction with pausanias, but in accordance with a common rule of mythical interpretation, sophocles****** calls apollo "the wolf-slayer". * paus., i. , . ** preller, i. , note ; paus., ii. , . *** encyc. brit., s. v. "sacrifice". **** paus., x. , . ***** ant. lib., . ****** _electra_, ., it has very frequently happened that when animals were found closely connected with a god, the ancients explained the fact indifferently by calling the deity the protector or the destroyer of the beasts in question. thus, in the case of apollo, mice were held sacred and were fed in his temples in the troad and elsewhere, the people of hamaxitus especially worshipping mice.* the god's name, smintheus, was understood to mean "apollo of the mouse," or "mouse-apollo ".** but while apollo was thus at some places regarded as the patron of mice, other narratives declared that he was adored as sminthian because from mice he had freed the country. this would be a perfectly natural explanation if the vermin which had once been sacred became a pest in the eyes of later generations.*** flies were in this manner connected with the services of apollo. it has already been remarked that an ox was sacrificed to flies near the temple of apollo in leucas. the sacrifice was explained as a device for inducing flies to settle in one spot, and leave the rest of the coast clear. this was an expensive, and would prove a futile arrangement. there was a statue of the locust-apollo (parnopios) in athena the story ran that it was dedicated after the god had banished a plague of locusts.**** * Ælian, h. a., xii. . ** strabo, xiii. . *** it is the explanation preller gives of the mouse-apollo, i. . **** paus., i. , ; strabo, xiii. . a most interesting view of the way in which pious heathens of a late age regarded apollo's menagerie may be got from plutarch's essay on the delphic responses. it is the description of a visit to delphi. in the hall of the corinthians the writer and his friends examine the sacred palm tree of bronze, and "the snakes and frogs in relief round the root of the tree". "why," said they, "the palm tree is not a marsh plant, and frogs are not a corinthian crest." and indeed one would think ravens and swans, and hawks and wolves, and anything else than these reptiles would be agreeable to the god. then one of the visitors, serapion, very learnedly showed that apollo was the sun, and that the sun arises from water. "still slipping into the story your lightings up and your exhalations," cried plutarch, and chaffed him, as one might chaff kuhn, or schwartz, or decharme, about his elemental interpretations. in fact, the classical writers knew rather less than we do about the origin of many of their religious peculiarities. in connection with sheep, again, apollo was worshipped as the ram apollo.* at the festival of the carneia a ram was his victim.** these facts are commonly interpreted as significant of the god's care for shepherds and the pastoral life, a memory of the days when apollo kept a mortal's sheep and was the hind of admetus of thessaly. he had animal names derived from sheep and goats, such as _maloeis tragios_.*** the tale which made apollo the serf and shepherd of mortal men is as old as the _iliad_,**** and is not easy to interpret, whether as a nature-myth or a local legend. laomedon, one of apollo's masters, not only refused him his wage, but threatened to put him in chains and sell him to foreign folk across the sea, and to crop his ears with the blade of bronze. these legends may have brought some consolation to the hearts of free men enslaved. a god had borne like calamities, and could feel for their affliction. * karneios, from (heyschius, s.v.), a ram. ** theocritus, idyll, v. a *** preller, i. , note . **** ii. . xxi. . to return to the beasts of apollo, in addition to dolphins, mice, rams and wolves, he was constantly associated with lizards (powerful totems in australia), cicalas, hawks, swans, ravens, crows, vultures, all of which are, by mythologists, regarded as symbols of the sun-god, in one or other capacity or function. in the _iliad_,* apollo puts on the gear of a hawk, and flits on hawk's wings down ida, as the thlinkeet yehl does on the feathers of a crane or a raven. * xv. . the loves of apollo make up a long and romantic chapter in his legend. they cannot all be so readily explained, as are many of the loves of zeus, by the desire to trace genealogical pedigrees to a god. it is on this principle, however, that the birth of ion, for example, is to be interpreted. the ideal eponymous hero of the ionian race was naturally feigned to be the son of the deity by whose fatherhood all ionians became "brethren in apollo". once more, when a profession like that of medicine was in the hands of a clan conceiving themselves to be of one blood, and when their common business was under the protection of apollo, they inevitably traced their genealogy to the god. thus the medical clan of the asclepiadæ, of which aristotle was a member, derived their origin from asclepius or (as the romans called him) Æsculapius. so far everything in this myth appears natural and rational, granting the belief in the amours of an anthropomorphic god. but the details of the story are full of that _irrational_ element which is said to "make mythology mythological". in the third pythian ode pindar sings how apollo was the lover of coronis; how she was faithless to him with a stranger. pindar does not tell how the crow or the raven flew to apollo with the news, and how the god cursed the crow, which had previously been white, that it should for ever be black. then he called his sister, artemis, to slay the false nymph, but snatched from her funeral pyre the babe asclepius, his own begotten. this myth, which explains the colour of the crow as the result of an event and a divine curse, is an example of the stage of thought already illustrated in the namaqua myth of heitsi eibib, and the peculiarities which his curse attached to various animals. there is also a bushman myth according to which certain blackbirds have white breasts, because some women once tied pieces of white fat round their necks.* it is instructive to observe, as the scholiast on pindar quotes artemon, that pindar omits the incident of the crow as foolish and unworthy. apollo, according to the ode, was himself aware, in his omniscience, of the frailty of coronis. but hesiod, a much earlier poet, tells the story in the usual way, with the curse of the crow, and his consequent change of colour.** the whole story, in its most ancient shape, and with the omissions suggested by the piety of a later age, is an excellent example of the irrational element in greek myth, of its resemblance to savage myth, and of the tendency of more advanced thought to veil or leave out features revolting to pure religion.*** * bleek, _bushman folk-lore_; pindar, _pyth_., iii, with notes of the scholiast. ** pindar, estienne, geneva, , p. . *** for the various genealogies of asclepius and a discussion of the authenticity of the hesiodic fragments, see roscher, _lexikon_, pp. , . the connection of asclepius with the serpent was so close that he was received into roman religion in the form of a living snake, while dogs were so intimately connected with his worship that panofka believed him to have been originally a dog-god (roscher, p. , _revue archeohgique_). in another myth apollo succeeds to the paternal honours of a totem. the telmissians in lycia claimed descent from telmessus, who was the child of an amour in which apollo assumed the form of a dog. "in this guise he lay with a daughter of antenor." probably the lycians of telmissus originally derived their pedigree from a dog, _sans phrase_ and, later, made out that the dog was apollo metamorphosed. this process of veiling a totem, and explaining him away as a saint of the same name, is common in modern india.* * suidas, his authority is dionysius of chalcis bc, see "primitive marriage in bengal," asiatic quarterly, june, . the other loves of apollo are numerous, but it may be sufficient to have examined one such story in detail. where the tale of the amour was not a necessary consequence of the genealogical tendency to connect clans with gods, it was probably, as roscher observes in the case of daphne, an Ætiological myth. many flowers and trees, for example, were nearly connected with the worship and ritual of apollo; among these were notably the laurel, cypress and hyacinth. it is no longer possible to do more than conjecture why each of these plants was thus favoured, though it is a plausible guess that the god attracted into his service various local tree-worships and plant-worships. people would ask why the deity was associated with the flowers and boughs, and the answer would be readily developed on the familiar lines of nature-myth. the laurel is dear to the god because the laurel was once a girl whom he pursued with his love, and who, to escape his embraces, became a tree. the hyacinth and cypress were beautiful youths, dear to apollo, and accidentally slain by him in sport. after their death they became flowers. such myths of metamorphoses, as has been shown, are an universal growth of savage fancy, and spring from the want of a sense of difference between men and things.* the legend of apollo has only been slightly sketched, but it is obvious that many elements from many quarters enter into the sum of his myths and rites.** if apollo was originally the sun-god, it is certain that his influence on human life and society was as wide and beneficent as that of the sun itself. he presides over health and medicine, and over purity of body and soul. he is the god of song, and the hexameter, which first resounded in his temples, uttered its latest word in the melancholy music of the last oracle from delphi:-- say to the king that the beautiful fane hath fallen asunder, phoebus no more hath a sheltering roof nor a sacred cell, and the holy laurels are broken and wasted, and hushed is the wonder of water that spake as it flowed from the deeps of the delphian well. * see "nature-myths," antea. schwartz, as usual, takes daphne to be connected, not with the dawn, but with lightning. "es ist der gewitter-baum." der ursprung der mythologie, berlin, , pg. - . ** for the influence of apollo-worship on greek civilisation, see curtius's history qf greece, english transl., vol. i. for a theory that apollo answers to mitra among "the arians of iran," see duncker's history of greece, vol, i. . in his oracle he appears as the counsellor of men, between men and zeus he is a kind of mediator (like the son of baiame in australia, or of puluga in the andaman isles), tempering the austerity of justice with a yearning and kind compassion. he sanctifies the pastoral life by his example, and, as one who had known bondage to a mortal, his sympathy lightens the burden of the slave. he is the guide of colonists, he knows all the paths of earth and all the ways of the sea, and leads wanderers far from greece into secure havens, and settles them on fertile shores. but he is also the god before whom the athenians first flogged and then burned their human scapegoats.* his example consecrated the abnormal post-homeric vices of greece. he is capable of metamorphosis into various beasts, and his temple courts are thronged with images of frogs, and mice, and wolves, and dogs, and ravens, over whose elder worship he throws his protection. he is the god of sudden death; he is amorous and revengeful. the fair humanities of old religion boast no figure more beautiful; yet he, too, bears the birthmarks of ancient creeds, and there is a shadow that stains his legend and darkens the radiance of his glory. * at the thergelia. see meursius, græcia feriata. artemis. if apollo soon disengages himself from the sun, and appears as a deity chiefly remarkable for his moral and prophetic attributes, artemis retains as few traces of any connection with the moon. "in the development of artemis may most clearly be distinguished," says claus, the progress of the human intellect from the early, rude, and, as it were, natural ideas, to the fair and brilliant fancies of poets and sculptors."* * de dianæ antiguisstma apud græcos natura, vratialaviæ, . there is no goddess more beautiful, pure and maidenly in the poetry of greece. there she shines as the sister of apollo; her chapels are in the wild wood; she is the abbess of the forest nymphs, "chaste and fair", the maiden of the precise life, the friend of the virginal hippolytus; always present, even if unseen, with the pure of heart.* she is like milton's lady in the revel route of the _comus_, and among the riot of olympian lovers she alone, with athene, satisfies the ascetic longing for a proud remoteness and reserve. but though it is thus that the poets dream of her, from the author of the _odyssey_ to euripides, yet the local traditions and cults of artemis, in many widely separated districts, combine her worship and her legend with hideous cruelties, with almost cannibal rites, with relics of the wild worship of the beasts whom, in her character as the goddess of the chase, she "preserves" rather than protects. to her human victims are sacrificed; for her bears, deer, doves, wolves, all the tameless herds of the hills and forests are driven through the fire in achaea. she is adored with bear-dances by the attic girls; there is a gloomy chthonian or sepulchral element in her worship, and she is even blended in ritual with a monstrous many-breasted divinity of oriental religion. perhaps it is scarcely possible to separate now all the tangled skeins in the mixed conception of artemis, or to lay the finger on the germinal conception of her nature. "dark," says schreiber, "is the original conception, obscure the meaning of the name of artemis."** * hippolytus, eurip., - . ** roscher's lexikon, s. v. it is certain that many tribal worships are blended in her legend and each of two or three widely different notions of her nature may be plausibly regarded as the most primitive. in the attempt to reach the original notion of artemis, philology offers her distracting aid and her competing etymologies. what is the radical meaning of her name? on this point claus* has a long dissertation. in his opinion artemis was originally (as dione) the wife, not the daughter, of zeus, and he examines the names dione, diana, concluding that artemis, dione and diana are essentially one, and that diana is the feminine of janus (djanus), corresponding to the greek. as to the etymology of artemis, curtis wisely professes himself uncertain.** a crowd of hypotheses have been framed by more sanguine and less cautious etymologists. artemis has been derived from "safe," "unharmed," "the stainless maiden ". goebel, suggests the root _arpar_ or _par_, "to shake," and makes artemis mean the thrower of the dart or the shooter. but this is confessedly conjectural. the persian language has also been searched for the root of artemis, which is compared with the first syllables in artaphernes, artaxerxes, artaxata, and so forth. it is concluded that artemis would simply mean "the great goddess ". claus again, returning to his theory of artemis as originally the wife of zeus, inclines to regard her as originally the earth, the "mighty mother".**** * roscher's lexikon, s. v., p. . ** etym. or,, th ed., p. . *** lexilogus, i. . **** for many other etymologies of artemis, see roscher's lexikon, p. . among these is "she who cuts the air". even the bear, has occurred to inventive men. as schreiber observes, the philological guesses really throw no light on the nature of artemis. welcker, preller and lauer take her for the goddess of the midnight sky, and "the light of the night".* claus, as we have seen, is all for night, not light; for "night is identical in conception with the earth"--night being the shadow of earth, a fact probably not known to the very early greeks. claus, however, seems well inspired when he refuses to deduce all the many properties, myths and attributes of artemis from lunar aspects and attributes. the smallest grain of ingenuity will always suffice as the essential element in this mythological alchemy, this "transmutation" of the facts of legend into so many presumed statements about any given natural force or phenomenon. from all these general theories and vague hypotheses it is time to descend to facts, and to the various local or tribal cults and myths of artemis. her place in the artistic poetry, which wrought on and purified those tales, will then be considered. this process is the converse of the method, for example, of m. decharme. he first accepts the "queen and huntress, chaste and fair," of poetry, and then explains her local myths and rituals as accidental corruptions of and foreign additions to that ideal. the attic and arcadian legends of artemis are confessedly among the oldest.** * welcker, oriechische gotterlehre, i. , gottingen, ; preller, i. . ** roscher, lexikon, . both in arcadia and attica, the goddess is strangely connected with that animal worship, and those tales of bestial metamorphosis, which are the characteristic elements of myths and beliefs among the most backward races. the arcadian myth of artemis and the she-bear is variously narrated. according to pausanias, lycaon, king of arcadia, had a daughter, callisto, who was loved by zeus. hera, in jealous wrath, changed callisto into a she-bear; and artemis, to please hera, shot the beast. at this time the she-bear was pregnant with a child by zeus, who sent hermes to save the babe, areas, just as dionysus was saved at the burning of semele and asclepius at the death of his mother, whom apollo slew. zeus then transformed callisto into a constellation, the bear.* no more straightforward myth of descent from a beast (for the arcadians claimed descent from areas, the she-bear's son) and of starry or bestial metamorphosis was ever told by cahrocs or kamilaroi. another story ran that artemis herself, in anger at the unchastity of callisto, caused her to become a bear. so the legend ran in a hesiodic poem, according to the extract in eratosthenes.** * paus., viii. , . ** o. müller, engl. transl., p. ; catast., i.; apollodor., iii. ; hyginus, , . a number of less important references are given in bachofen's der bar in den religionen des alterthums. such is the ancient myth, which otfried müller endeavours to explain by the light of his lucid common sense, without the assistance which we can now derive from anthropological research. the nymph callisto, in his opinion, is a mere refraction from artemis herself, under her arcadian and poetic name of calliste, "the most beautiful". hard by the tumulus known as the grave of callisto was a shrine, pausanias tells us, of artemis _calliste_.* pamphos, he adds, was the first poet known to him who praised artemis by this title, and he learned it from the arcadians. müller next remarks on the attributes of artemis in athens, the artemis known as brauronia. "now," says he, "we set out from this, that the circumstance of the goddess who is served at brauron by she-bears having a friend and companion changed into a bear, cannot possibly be a freak of chance, but that this metamorphosis has its foundation in the fact that the animal was sacred to the goddess." it will become probable that the animal actually was mythically identified with the goddess at an extremely remote period, or, at all events, that the goddess succeeded to, and threw her protection over, an ancient worship of the animal. passing then from arcadia, where the friend of the goddess becomes a she-bear, to brauron and munychia in attica, we find that the local artemis there, an artemis connected by legend with the fierce taurian goddess, is served by young girls, who imitate, in dances, the gait of bears, who are called little bears, apktoi, and whose ministry is named aptcreia, that is, "a playing the bear". some have held that the girls once wore bear-skins.** * paus., viii. . ** claus, op. cit., p. . [suchier, de dian brauron, p. .] the bearskin seems later to have been exchanged for a saffron raiment. compare harpokration, aristophanes, _lysistrata_, . the scholiast on that passage collects legendary explanations, setting forth that the rites were meant to appease the goddess for the slaying of a tame bear [cf. apostolius, vii. ]. mr. parnell has collected all the lore in his work on the cults of the greek states. familiar examples in ancient and classical times of this religious service by men in bestial guise are the wolf-dances of the hirpi or "wolves," and the use of the ram-skin in egypt and greece.* these brauronian rites point to a period when the goddess was herself a bear, or when a bear-myth accrued to her legend, and this inference is confirmed by the singular tradition that she was not only a bear, but a bear who craved for human blood.** * servius. jen. i. xi. . for a singular parallel in modern french folk-lore to the dance of the hirpi, see mannhardt, wald und feld qultus, ii , . for the ram, see herodotus, ii. . in thebes the ram's skin was in the yearly festival flayed, and placed on the statue of the god. compare, in the case of the buzzard, bancroft, iii. . great care is taken in preserving the skin of the sacrificed totem, the buzzard, as it makes part of a sacred dress. ** apostolius, viii. , vii. , quoted by o. müller (cf. welcker, i. ). the connection between the arcadian artemis, the artemis of brauron, and the common rituals and creeds of totemistic worship is now, perhaps, undeniably apparent. perhaps in all the legend and all the cult of the goddess there is no more archaic element than this. the speech of the women in the _lysistrata_, recalling the days of their childhood when they "were bears," takes us back to a remote past when the tribes settled at brauron were bear-worshippers, and, in all probability, claimed to be of the bear stock or kindred. their distant descendants still imitated the creature's movements in a sacred dance; and the girls of periclean athens acted at that moment like the young men of the mandans or nootkas in their wolf-dance or buffalo-dance. two questions remain unanswered: how did a goddess of the name of artemis, and with her wide and beneficent functions, succeed to a cult so barbarous? or how, on the other hand, did the cult of a ravening she-bear develop into the humane and pure religion of artemis? here is a moment in mythical and religious evolution which almost escapes our inquiry. we find, in actual historical processes, nothing more akin to it than the relation borne by the samoan gods to the various animals in which they are supposed to be manifest. how did the complex theory of the nature of artemis arise? what was its growth? at what precise hour did it emancipate itself on the whole from the lower savage creeds? or how was it developed out of their unpromising materials? the science of mythology may perhaps never find a key to these obscure problems.* * the symbolic explanation of bachofen, claus and others is to the effect that the she-bear (to take that case) is a beast in which the maternal instinct is very strong, and apparently that the she-bear, deprived of her whelps, is a fit symbol of a goddess notoriously virginal, and without offspring. the goddess of brauron, succeeding probably to the cult of a she-bear, called for human blood. with human blood the artemis orthia of sparta was propitiated. of this goddess and her rights pausanias tells a very remarkable story. the image of the goddess, he declares, is barbarous; which probably means that even among the archaic wooden idols of greece it seemed peculiarly savage in style. astrabacus and alopecus (the ass and the fox), sons of agis, are said to have found the idol in a bush, and to have been struck mad at the sight of it. those who sacrificed to the goddess fell to blows and slew each other; a pestilence followed, and it became clear that the goddess demanded human victims. "her altar must be drenched in the blood of men," the victim being chosen by lot. lycurgus got the credit of substituting the rite in which boys were flogged before the goddess to the effusion of blood for the older human sacrifices.* the taurian artemis, adored with human sacrifice, and her priestess, iphigenia, perhaps a form of the goddess, are familiar examples of this sanguinary ritual.** suchier is probably correct in denying that these sacrifices are of foreign origin. they are closely interwoven with the oldest idols and oldest myths of the districts least open to foreign influence. an achaean example is given by pausanias.*** artemis was adored with the offering of a beautiful girl and boy. not far from brauron, at halae, was a very ancient temple of artemis tauropolos, in which blood was drawn from a man's throat by the edge of the sword, clearly a modified survival of human sacrifice. the whole connection of artemis with taurian rites has been examined by müller,**** in his _orchomenos_***** horns grow from the shoulders of artemis tauropolos, on the coins of amphipolis, and on macedonian coins she rides on a bull. according to decharme,****** the taurian artemis, with her hideous rites, was confused, by an accidental resemblance of names, with this artemis tauropolos, whose "symbol" was a bull, and who (whatever we may think of the symbolic hypothesis) used bulls as her "vehicle" and wore bull's horns. * paus., iii. , . cf. müller, dorians, book ii. chap. , . pausanias, viii. , , mentions a similar custom, ordained by the delphian oracle, the flogging of women at the feast of dionysus in alea of arcadia. ** cf. müller, dorians, it , , and claus, op. cit., cap. v. *** paus., vii. . ****op. cit., ii. , . ***** ibid., p. . qf. euripides, iph. taur., , and roscher, lexikon, p. . ****** mythol. de la grece, p. . müller, on the other hand,* believes the greeks found in tauria (i.e., lemnos) a goddess with bloody "rites, whom they identified by reason of those very human sacrifices, with their own artemis iphigenia". their own worship of that deity bore so many marks of ancient barbarism that they were willing to consider the northern barbarians as its authors. yet it is possible that the tauric artemis was no more derived from the taurians than artemis Æthiopia from the Æthiopians. the nature of the famous diana of the ephesians, or artemis of ephesus, is probably quite distinct in origin from either the artemis of arcadia and attica or the deity of literary creeds. as late as the time of tacitus** the ephesians maintained that leto's twins had been born in their territory. "the first which showed themselves in the senate were the ephesians, declaring that diana and apollo were not born in the island delos, as the common people did believe; and there was in their country a river called cenchrius, and a wood called ortegia, where latona, being great with child, and leaning against an olive tree which is yet in that place, brought forth these two gods, and that by the commandment of the gods the wood was made sacred."*** * mythol. de la grece, ii. , . ** annals, iii. . *** greenwey's _tacitus_, . this was a mere adaptation of the delian legend, the olive (in athens sacred to athene) taking the place of the delian palm-tree. the real artemis of ephesus, "the image that fell from heaven," was an oriental survival. nothing can be less greek in taste than her many-breasted idol, which may be compared with the many-breasted goddess of the beer-producing maguey plant in mexico.* the wilder elements in the local rites and myths of diana are little if at all concerned with the goddess in her olympian aspect as the daughter of leto and sister of apollo. it is from this lofty rank that she descends in the national epic to combat on the ilian plain among warring gods and men. claus has attempted, from a comparison of the epithets applied to artemis, to show that the poets of the iliad and the odyssey take different views of her character. in the iliad she is a goddess of tumult and passion; in the odyssey, a holy maiden with the "gentle darts" that deal sudden and painless death. but in both poems she is a huntress, and the death-dealing shafts are hers both in iliad and odyssey. perhaps the apparent difference is due to nothing but the necessity for allotting her a part in that battle of the olympians which rages in the iliad. thus hera in the iliad addresses her thus:** "how now! art thou mad, bold vixen, to match thyself against me? hard were it for thee to match my might, bow-bearer though thou art, since against women zeus made thee a lion, and giveth thee to slay whomso of them thou wilt. truly it is better on the mountains to slay wild beasts and deer than to fight with one that is mightier than thou." * for an alabaster statuette of the goddess, see roscher's lexikon, p. ** iliad, xxi. . these taunts of hera, who always detests the illegitimate children of zeus, doubtless refer to the character of artemis as the goddess of childbirth. here she becomes confused with ilithyia and with hecate; but it is unnecessary to pursue the inquiry into these details.* like most of the olympians, artemis was connected not only with beast-worship, but with plant-worship. she was known by the names daphnæa and cedreatis; at ephesus not only the olive but the oak was sacred to her; at delos she had her palm tree. her idol was placed in or hung from the branches of these trees, and it is not improbable that she succeeded to the honours either of a tree worshipped in itself and for itself, or of the spirit or genius which was presumed to dwell in and inform it. similar examples of one creed inheriting the holy things of its predecessor are common enough where either missionaries, as in mexico and china, or the early preachers of the gospel in brittany or scandinavia, appropriated to christ the holy days of pagan deities and consecrated fetish stones with the mark of the cross. unluckily, we have no historical evidence as to the moment in which the ancient tribal totems and fetishes and sacrifices were placed under the protection of the various olympians, in whose cult they survive, like flies in amber. but that this process did take place is the most obvious explanation of the rude factors in the religion of artemis, as of apollo, zeus or dionysus. * cf. preller, i. , . bacchylides make hecate the daughter of "deep-bosomed night". ( ). the scholiast on the second idyll of theocritus, in which the sorceress appeals to the magic of the moon, makes her a daughter of zeus and demeter, and identified with artemis. here, more clearly than elsewhere, the artemis appears _sub luce maligna_, under the wan uncertain light of the moon. it was ever the tendency of greek thought to turn from the contemplation of dark and inscrutable things in the character of the gods and to endow them with the fairest attributes. the primitive formless _zoana_ give place to the ideal statues of gold and ivory. the artemis to whom a fawn in a maiden's dress is sacrificed does not haunt the memory of euripides; his artemis is fair and honourable, pure and maidenly, a goddess wandering in lonely places unbeholden of man. it is thus, if one may rhyme the speech of hippolytus, that her votary addresses her:-- for thee soft crowns in thine untrampled mead i weave, my lady, and to thee i bear; thither no shepherd drives his flocks to feed, nor scythe of steel has ever laboured there; nay, through the spring among the blossoms fair the brown bee comes and goes, and with good heed thy maiden, reverence, sweet streams doth lead about the grassy close that is her care! souls only that are gracious and serene by gift of god, in human lore unread, may pluck these holy blooms and grasses green that now i wreathe for thine immortal head, i who may walk with thee, thyself unseen, and by thy whispered voice am comforted. in passages like this we find the truly _natural_ religion, the religion to which man's nature tends, "groaning and travailing" till the goal is won, but it is long in the winning; the paths are rough; humanity is "led by a way that it knew not". dionysus. among deities whose origin has been sought in the personification, if not of the phenomena, at least of the forces of nature, dionysus is prominent.* he is regarded by many mythologists** as the "spiritual form" of the new vernal life, the sap and pulse of vegetation and of the new-born year, especially as manifest in the vine and the juice of the grape. thus preller*** looks on his mother, semele, as a personification of the pregnant soil in spring.**** the name of semele is explained with the familiar diversity of conjecture. whether the human intellect, at the time of the first development of myth, was capable of such abstract thought as is employed in the recognition of a deity presiding over "the revival of earth-life" or not, and whether, having attained to this abstraction, men would go on to clothe it in all manner of animal and other symbolisms, are questions which mythologists seem to take for granted. the popular story of the birth of dionysus is well known. * it is needless to occupy space with the etymological guesses at the sense of the name "dionysus". greek, sanskrit and assyrian have been tortured by the philologists, but refuse to give up their secret, and curtis does not even offer a conjecture (or. etym., ). ** preller, i. . *** i. . **** the birth of dionysus is recorded (iliad, xiv. ; hesiod, theog., ) without the story of the death of semele, which occurs in Æschylus, frg., - ; eurip., bacchæ, i. . his mother, semele, desired to see zeus in all his glory, as he appeared when he made love to hera. having promised to grant all the nymph's requests, zeus was constrained to approach her in thunder and lightning. she was burned to death, but the god rescued her unborn child and sowed him up in his own thigh. in this wild narrative preller finds the wedlock of heaven and earth, "the first day that it thunders in march". the thigh of zeus is to be interpreted as "the cool moist clouds". if, on the other hand, we may take dionysus himself to be the rain, as kuhn does, and explain the thigh of zeus by comparison with certain details in the soma sacrifice and the right thigh of indra, as described in one of the brahmanas, why then, of course, preller's explanation cannot be admitted.* * kuhn, herabkunft, pp. , , where it appears that the gods buy soma and place it on the right thigh of indra. these examples show the difficulty, or rather indicate the error, of attempting to interpret all the details in any myth as so many statements about natural phenomena and natural forces. such interpretations are necessarily conjectural. certainly dionysus, the god of orgies, of wine, of poetry, became in later greek thought something very like the "spiritual form" of the vine, and the patron of nature's moods of revelry. but that he was originally conceived of thus, or that this conception may be minutely traced through each incident of his legend, cannot be scientifically established. each mythologist, as has been said before, is, in fact, asking himself, "what meaning would i have had if i told this or that story of the god of the vine or the god of the year's renewal?" the imaginations in which the tale of the double birth of dionysus arose were so unlike the imagination of an erudite modern german that these guesses are absolutely baseless. nay, when we are told that the child was sheltered in his father's body, and was actually brought to birth by the father, we may be reminded, like bachofen, of that widespread savage custom, the _couvade_. from brazil to the basque country it has been common for the father to pretend to lie-in while the mother is in childbed; the husband undergoes medical treatment, in many cases being put to bed for days.* this custom, "world-wide," as mr. tylor calls it, has been used by bachofen as the source of the myth of the double birth of dionysus. though other explanations of the _couvade_ have been given, the most plausible theory represents it as a recognition of paternity by the father. bachofen compares the ceremony by which, when hera became reconciled to herakles, she adopted him as her own through the legal fiction of his second birth. the custom by which, in old french marriage rites, illegitimate children were legitimised by being brought to the altar under the veil of the bride is also in point.** diodorus says that barbarians still practise the rite of adoption by a fictitious birth. men who returned home safely after they were believed to be dead had to undergo a similar ceremony.*** bachofen therefore explains the names and myths of the "double-mothered dionysus" as relics of the custom of the _couvade_, and of the legal recognition of children by the father, after a period of kinship through women only. *** tylor, prim. oult., i ; early history of mankind, p. . ** bachofen, das mutterrecht, stuttgart, , p. . *** plutarch, quæst. rom., . this theory is put by lucian in his usual bantering manner. poseidon wishes to enter the chamber of zeus, but is refused admission by hermes. "is zeus _en bonne fortune?_" he asks. "no, the reverse. zeus has just had a baby." "a baby! why there was nothing in his figure...! perhaps the child was born from his head, like athene?" "not at all--his _thigh_; the child is semele's." "wonderful god! what varied accomplishments! but who is semele?" "a theban girl, a daughter of cadmus, much noticed by zeus." "and so he kindly was confined for her?" "exactly!" "so zeus is both father and mother of the child?" "naturally! and now i must go and make him comfortable."* * dial. deor., xi. we need not necessarily accept bachofen's view. this learned author employed indeed a widely comparative method, but he saw everything through certain mystic speculations of his own. it may be deemed, however, that the authors of the myth of the double birth of dionysus were rather in the condition of men who practise the _couvade_ than capable of such vast abstract ideas and such complicated symbolism as are required in the system of preller. it is probable enough that the struggle between the two systems of kindred--maternal and paternal--has left its mark in greek mythology. undeniably it is present in the _eumenides_ of Æschylus, and perhaps it inspires the tales which represent hera and zeus as emulously producing offspring (athene and hephaestus) without the aid of the opposite sex.* in any case, dionysus, semele's son, the patron of the vine, the conqueror of india, is an enigmatic figure of dubious origin, but less repulsive than dionysus zagreus. even among the adventures of zeus the amour which resulted in the birth of dionysus zagreus was conspicuous. "jupiter ipse filiam incestavit, natum hinc zagreum."** persephone, fleeing her hateful lover, took the shape of a serpent, and zeus became the male dragon. the story is on a footing with the brahmanic myth of prajapati and his daughter as buck and doe. the platonists explained the legend, as usual, by their "absurd symbolism ".*** the child of two serpents, zagreus, was born, curious as it may seem, with horns on his head. zeus brought him up in secret, but hera sent the titans to kill him. according to clemens alexandrinus**** and other authorities, the titans won his heart with toys, including the bull-roarer or turn-dun of the australians.**** his enemies, also in australian fashion, daubed themselves over with pipeclay.****** by these hideous foes the child was torn to pieces, though, according to nonnus, he changed himself into as many beasts as proteus by the nile, or tamlane by the ettrick. * roscher's lexikon, p. . ** lobeck, aglaoph., p. , quoting callimachus and euphoric *** ibid., p. . **** admon., p. ; nonnus, xxiv. ; ap. aglaoph., p. . ***** custom and myth, p. . ******cf. demosthenes, pro. or., ; lobeck, pp. , , . in his bull-shape, zagreus was finally chopped up small, cooked (except the heart), and eaten by the titans.* here we are naturally reminded of the dismemberment of osiris, ymir, purusha, chokanipok and so many other gods and beasts in egypt, india, scandinavia and america. this point must not be lost sight of in the controversy as to the origin and date of the story of dionysus zagreus. nothing can be much more repulsive than these hideous incidents to the genius, for example, of homer. he rarely tells anything worse about the gods than the tale of ares' imprisonment in the large bronze pot, an event undignified, indeed, but not in the ferocious taste of the zagreus legend. but it need not, therefore, be decided that the story of dionysus and the titans is later than homer because it is inconsistent with the tone of homeric mythology, and because it is found in more recent authorities. details like the use of the "turn-dun" in the dionysiac mysteries, and the bodies of the celebrants daubed with clay, have a primitive, or at least savage, appearance. it was the opinion of lobeck that the orphic poems, in which the legend first comes into literature, were the work of onomacritus.** on the other hand, müller argued that the myth was really archaic, although it had passed through the hands of onomacritus. on the strength of the boast of the delphian priests that they possessed the grave in which the fragments of the god were buried, müller believed that onomacritus received the story from delphi.*** * proclus in crat., p. . ** aglaoph., p. . "onomacritum architectum istius mythi." *** müller's proleg., english transl., p. . müller writes, "the way in which these orphics went to work with ancient myths can be most distinctly seen in the mythus of the _tearing asunder of bacchus_, which, at all events, passed _through_ the hands of onomacritus, an organiser of dionysian orgies, according to pausanias, an author of orphean poems also, and therefore, in all probability, an orphic". the words of pausanias are (viii. , ), "onomacritus, taking from homer the name of the titans, established dionysiac orgies, and represented the titans as the authors of the sorrows of the god". now it is perhaps impossible to decide with certainty whether, as lobeck held, onomacritus "adapted" the myth, and the delphians received it into their religion, with rites purposely meant to resemble those of osiris in egypt, or whether müller more correctly maintains that onomacritus, on the other hand, brought an old temple mystery and "sacred chapter" into the light of literature. but it may very plausibly be maintained that a myth so wild, and so analogous in its most brutal details to the myths of many widely scattered races, is more probably ancient than a fresh invention of a poet of the sixth century. it is much more likely that greece, whether at delphi or elsewhere, possessed a legend common to races in distant continents, than that onomacritus either invented the tale or borrowed it from egypt and settled it at delphi. o. müller could not appeal to the crowd of tales of divine dismemberment in savage and civilised lands, because with some he was unacquainted, and others (like the sacrifice of purusha, the cutting up of omorca, the rending of ymir) do not seem to have occurred to his memory. though the majority of these legends of divine dismemberment are connected with the making of the world, yet in essentials they do resemble the tale of dionysus and the titans. thus the balance of probability is in favour of the theory that the myth is really old, and was borrowed, not invented, by onoma-critus.* that very shifty person may have made his own alterations in the narrative, but it cannot be rash to say with o. müller, "if it has been supposed that he was the inventor of the entire fable, which pausa-nias by no means asserts, i must confess that i cannot bring myself to think so. according to the notions of the ancients, it must have been an unholy, an accursed man who could, from a mere caprice of his own, represent the ever-young dionysus, the god of joy, as having been torn to pieces by the titans." a reply to this might, no doubt, be sought in the passages describing the influx of new superstitions which are cited by lobeck.** the greek comic poets especially derided these religious novelties, which corresponded very closely to our "esoteric buddhism" and similar impostures. but these new mysteries and trumpery cults of the decayed civilisation were things very different from the worship of dionysus zagreus and his established sacrifices of oxen in the secret penetralia of delphi.*** * lobeck, aglaoph., p. . ** aglaoph., - . *** lycophron, , and the scholiast. it may be determined, therefore, that the tale and the mystery-play of dionysus and the titans are, in essentials, as old as the savage state of religion, in which their analogues abound, whether at delphi they were or were not of foreign origin, and introduced in times comparatively recent. the fables, wherever they are found, are accompanied by savage rites, in which (as in some african tribes when the chief is about to declare war) living animals were torn asunder and eaten raw. these horrors were a kind of representation of the sufferings of the god. o. müller may well observe,* "we can scarcely take these rites to be new usages and the offspring of a post-homeric civilisation". these remarks apply to the custom of _nebrismus_, or tearing fawns to pieces and dancing about draped in the fawn-skins. such rites were part of the bacchic worship, and even broke out during a pagan revival in the time of valens, when dogs were torn in shreds by the worshippers.** whether the antiquity of the zagrean ritual and legend be admitted or not, the problem as to their original significance remains. although the majority of heathen rites of this kind were mystery-plays, setting forth in action some story of divine adventure or misadventure,*** yet lobeck imagines the story of zagreus and the titans to have been invented or adapted from the osiris legend, as an account of the mystic performances themselves. what the myth meant, or what the furious actions of the celebrants intended, it is only possible to conjecture. * lycophrony p. . ** theodoretus, ap. lobeck, p. . observe the number of examples of daubing with clay in the mysteries here adduced by lobeck, and compare the mandan tribes described by catlin in o-kee-pa, londou, , and by theal in kaffir folk-lore. *** lactantius, v. , ; ovid, fasti, iv. . commonly it is alleged that the sufferings of dionysus are the ruin of the summer year at the hands of storm and winter, while the revival of the child typifies the vernal resurrection; or, again, the slain dionysus is the vintage. the old english song tells how "john barleycorn must die," and how potently he came back to life and mastered his oppressors. this notion, too, may be at the root of "the passion of dionysus," for the grapes suffer at least as many processes of torture as john barleycorn before they declare themselves in the shape of strong drink.* while preller talks about the _tiefste erd-und naturschmerz_ typified in the zagrean ritual, lobeck remarks that plato would be surprised if he could hear these "drunken men's freaks" decoratively described as _ein erhabene naturdienst_. * decharme, mythologie de la grece, p. , compare preller, i. on tiefste naturschmerz, and so forth. lobeck looks on the wild acts, the tearing of fawns and dogs, the half-naked dances, the gnawing of raw bleeding flesh, as the natural expression of fierce untutored folk, revelling in freedom, leaping and shouting. but the odd thing is that the most civilised of peoples should so long have retained the manners of _ingenia inculta et indomita_. whatever the original significance of the dionysiac revels, that significance was certainly expressed in a ferocious and barbaric fashion, more worthy of australians than athenians. on this view of the case it might perhaps be maintained that the germ of the myth is merely the sacrifice itself, the barbaric and cruel dismembering of an animal victim, which came to be identified with the god. the sufferings of the victim would thus finally be transmuted into a legend about the passion of the deity. the old greek explanation that the ritual was designed "in imitation of what befel the god" would need to be reversed. the truth would be that the myth of what befel the god was borrowed from the actual torture of the victim with which the god was identified examples of this mystic habit of mind, in which the slain beast, the god, and even the officiating celebrant were confused in thought with each other, are sufficiently common in ritual.* * as to the torch-dances of the maenads, compare roscher, lexikon, p. , and mannhardt wald und feki kultits, i. , for parallels in european folk-lore. the sacrifices in the ritual of dionysus have a very marked character and here more, commonly than in other hellenic cults, the god and the victim are recognised as essentially the same. the sacrifice, in fact, is a sacrament, and in partaking of the victim the communicants eat their god. this detail is so prominent that it has not escaped the notice even of mythologists who prefer to take an ideal view of myths and customs, to regard them as symbols in a nature-worship originally pure. thus m. decharme says of the bull-feast in the dionysiac cult, "comme le taureau est un des formes de dionysos, c'etait le corps du dieu dont se repaissaient les inities, c'etait son sang dont ils s'abreuvaient dans ce banquet mystique". now it was the peculiarity of the bac-chici who maintained these rites, that, as a rule, they abstained from the flesh of animals altogether, or at least their conduct took this shape when adopted into the orphic discipline.* this ritual, therefore, has points in common with the usages which appear also to have survived into the cult of the ram-god in egypt.** the conclusion suggested is that where dionysus was adored with this sacrament of bull's flesh, he had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to, the worship of a bull-totem, and had inherited his characteristic ritual. mr. frazer, however, proposes quite a different solution.*** ours is rendered plausible by the famous elean chant in which the god was thus addressed: "come, hero dionysus, come with the graces to thy holy house by the shores of the sea; hasten with thy bull-foot". then the chorus repeated, "goodly bull, goodly bull".**** m. decharme publishes a cameo***** in which the god is represented as a bull, with the three graces standing on his neck, and seven stars in the field. m. decharme decides that the stars are the pleiades, the graces the rays of the vernal sun, and dionysus as a bull the symbol of the vernal sun itself. but all such symbolical explanations are apt to be mere private conjectures, and they are of no avail in face of the ritual which, on the other hypothesis, is to be expected, and is actually found, in connection with the bull dionysus. where dionysus is not absolutely called a bull, he is addressed as the "horned deity," the "bull-horned," the "horned child".****** * lobeck, aglaoph., i ; plato, laws, vi. ; herodot, ii. . porphyry says that this also was the rule of pythagoras (vita pyth., , p. ). ** herodot., ii. . *** golden bough, vol. ii. **** plutarch, qu. or., d. ***** op. cit., p. . ****** clemens alex., adhort, ii. - ; nonnus, vi. ; diodorus, iv. . . . a still more curious incident of the dionysiac worship was the sacrifice of a booted calf, a calf with cothurns on its feet.* the people of tenedos, says Ælian, used to tend their goodliest cow with great care, to treat it, when it calved, like a woman in labour, to put the calf in boots and sacrifice it, and then to stone the sacrificer and drive him into the sea to expiate his crime. in this ceremony, as in the diipolia at athens, the slain bull is, as it were, a member of the blood-kindred of the man who immolates him, and who has to expiate the deed as if it were a murder.** in this connection it is worth remarking that dionysus zagreus, when, according to the myth, he was attacked by the titans, tried to escape his enemies by assuming various forms. it was in the guise of a bull that he was finally captured and rent asunder. the custom of rending the living victims of his cult was carried so far that, when pentheus disturbed his mysteries, the king was torn piecemeal by the women of his own family.*** the pious acquiescence of the author of the so-called theocritean idyll in this butchery is a curious example of the conservatism of religious sentiment. the connection of dionysus with the bull in particular is attested by various ritual epithets, such as "the bull," "bull-born,"**** "bull-horned," and "bull-browed".***** he was also worshipped with sacrifice of he-goats; according to the popular explanation, because the goat gnaws the vine, and therefore is odious to the god. * Ælian., h. a.t xii. . ** o. müller, proleg., engl, transl., , attributes the tenedos dionysus rites to "the beotic achsean emigrants". gf, aglaoph., - . *** theocritus, idyll, xxvi. **** pollux, iv. . ***** athenaus, xi. , a. the truth is, that animals, as the old commentator on virgil remarks, were sacrificed to the various gods, "_aut per similitudinem aut per contrarietatem_" either because there was a community of nature between the deity and the beast, or because the beast had once been sacred in a hostile clan or tribe.* the god derived some of his ritual names from the goat as well as from the bull according to one myth, dionysus was changed into a kid by zeus, to enable him to escape the jealousy of hera.** "it is a peculiarity," says voigt, "of the dionysus ritual that the god is one of his offering." but though the identity of the god and the victim is manifest, the phenomenon is too common in religion to be called peculiar.*** plutarch**** especially mentions that "many of the greeks make statues of dionysus in the form of a bull". dionysus was not only an animal-god, or a god who absorbed in his rights and titles various elder forms of beast-worship. trees also stood in the same relation to him. as _dendrites_, he is, like artemis, a tree-god, and probably succeeded to the cult of certain sacred trees; just as, for example, st. bridget, in ireland, succeeded to the cult of the fire-goddess and to her ceremonial.***** * cf. roscher, lexikon, p. ; robertson smith on "sacrifice," encyc. brit. ** appolodorus, iii. , . *** "dionysos selber. stier zicklein ist, und als zagreus- kind selber, den opfertod erleidet." ap. roscher, p. . **** de is. et os. ***** elton, origins of english history, p. , and the authorities there quoted. dionysus was even called "the god in the tree,"* reminding us of artemis dendritis, and of the village gods which in india dwell in the peepul or the bo tree.** thus pausanias*** tells us that, when pentheus went to spy on the dionysiac mysteries, the women found him hidden in a tree, and there and then tore him piecemeal. according to a corinthian legend, the delphic oracle bade them seek this tree and worship it with no less honour than the god (dionysus) himself. hence the wooden images of dionysus were made of that tree, the fig tree, _non ex quovis ligno_, and the god had a ritual name, "the fig-tree dionysus". in the idols the community of nature between the god and the fig tree was expressed and commemorated. an unhewn stump of wood was the dionysus idol of the rustic people.**** * hesychius. ** cf. roscher, p. . *** ii. , . **** max. tyr., , . certain antique elements in the dionysus cult have now been sketched; we have seen the god in singularly close relations with animal and plant worship, and have noted the very archaic character of certain features in his mysteries. doubtless these things are older than the bright anthropomorphic dionysus of the poets--the beautiful young deity, vine-crowned, who rises from the sea to comfort ariadne in tintoretto's immortal picture. at his highest, at his best, dionysus is the spirit not only of bacchic revel and of dramatic poetry, but of youth, health and gaiety. even in this form he retains something tricksy and enigmatic, the survival perhaps of earlier ideas; or, again, it may be the result of a more or less conscious symbolism. the god of the vine and of the juice of the vine maketh glad the heart of man; but he also inspires the kind of metamorphosis which the popular speech alludes to when a person is said to be "disguised in drink". for this reason, perhaps, he is now represented in art as a grave and bearded man, now as a manly youth, and again as an effeminate lad of girlish loveliness. the bearded type of the god is apparently the earlier; the girlish type may possibly be the result merely of decadent art, and its tendency to a sexless or bisexual prettiness.* turning from the ritual and local cults of the god, which, as has been shown, probably retain the earlier elements in his composite nature, and looking at his legend in the national literature of greece, we find little that throws any light on the origin and primal conception of his character in the _iliad_ dionysus is not one of the great gods whose politics sways olympus, and whose diplomatic or martial interference is exercised in the leaguer of the achæans or in the citadel of ilios. the longest passage in which he is mentioned is _iliad_, vi. , a passage which clearly enough declares that the worship of dionysus, or at least that certain of his rites were brought in from without, and that his worshippers endured persecution. diomedes, encountering glaucus in battle, refuses to fight him if he is a god in disguise. "nay, moreover, even dryas' son, mighty lykourgos, was not for long when he strove with heavenly gods; he that erst chased through the goodly land of nysa the nursing mothers of frenzied dionysus; and they all cast their wands upon the ground, smitten with murderous lykourgos' ox-goad. then dionysus fled, and plunged beneath the salt sea-wave, and thetis took him to her bosom, affrighted, for mighty trembling had seized him at his foe's rebuke. but with lykourgos the gods that live at ease were wroth, and kronos's son made him blind, and he was not for long, because he was hated of all the immortal gods." * see thræmer, in roscher, pp. - . though dionysus is not directly spoken of as the wine-god here, yet the gear of his attendants, and his own title, "the frenzied," seem to identify him with the deity of orgiastic frenzy. as to nysa, volumes might be written to little or no purpose on the learning connected with this obscure place-name, so popular in the legend of dionysus. it has been identified as a mountain in thrace, in boeotia, in arabia, india, libya and naxos, as a town in caria or the caucasus, and as an island in the nile. the flight of dionysus into the sea may possibly recall the similar flight of agni in indian myth. the _odyssey_ only mentions dionysus in connection with ariadne, whom artemis is said to have slain "by reason of the witness of dionysus,"** and where the great golden urn of thetis is said to have been a present from the god. the famous and beautiful hymn proves, as indeed may be learned from hesiod,*** that the god was already looked on as the patron of the vine. * xi. . ** xxiv. . *** works and days, . when the pirates had seized the beautiful young man with the dark-blue eyes, and had bound him in their ship, he "showed marvels among them," changed into the shape of a bear, and turned his captors into dolphins, while wine welled up from the timbers of the vessel, and vines and ivy trees wreathed themselves on the mast and about the rigging. leaving aside the orphic poems, which contain most of the facts in the legend of dionysus zagreus, the _bacchæ_ of euripides is the chief classical record of ideas about the god. dionysus was the patron of the drama, which itself was an artistic development of the old rural songs and dances of his athenian festival. in the _bacchæ_, then, euripides had to honour the very patron of his art. it must be said that his praise is but half-hearted. a certain ironical spirit, breaking out here and there (as when old cadmus dances, and shakes a grey head and a stiff knee) into actual burlesque, pervades the play. tradition and myth doubtless retained some historical truth when they averred that the orgies of the god had been accepted with reluctance into state religion. the tales about lycurgus and pentheus, who persecuted the bacchæ in thebes, and was dismembered by his own mother in a divine madness, are survivals of this old distrust of dionysus. it was impossible for euripides, a sceptic, even in a sceptical age, to approve sincerely of the god whom he was obliged to celebrate. he falls back on queer etymological explanations of the birth of dionysus from the thigh of zeus. this myth, as cadmus very learnedly sets forth, was the result of forgetfulness of the meaning of words, was born of a _volks-etymologie_. zeus gave a hostage to hera, says cadmus, and in "process of time" (a very short time) men forgot what they meant when they said this, and supposed that dionysus had been sewnup in the thigh of his father.* the explanation is absurd, but it shows how euripides could transfer the doubt and distrust of his own age, and its attempt at a philological interpretation of myth, to the remote heroic tunes. throughout the play the character and conduct of the god, and his hideous revenge on the people who reject his wild and cruel rites, can only be justified because they are articles of faith. the chorus may sing--"ah! blessed he who dwelleth in happiness, expert in the rites of the gods, and so hallows his life, fulfilling his soul with the spirit of dionysus, revelling on the hills with charms of holy purity ".** this was the interpretation which the religious mind thrust upon rites which in themselves were so barbarously obscene that they were feigned to have been brought by dionysus from the barbaric east,*** and to be the invention of rhea, an alien and orgiastic goddess.**** the bull-horned, snake-wreathed god,***** the god who, when bound, turns into a bull ( ); who manifests himself as a bull to pentheus ( ), and is implored by the chorus to appear "as bull, or burning lion, or many-headed snake" ( - ), this god is the ancient barbarous deity of myth, in manifest contrast with the artistic greek conception of him as "a youth with clusters of golden hair, and in his dark eyes the grace of aphrodite" ( , ). * bacchæ, , . ** ibid., , . *** ibid., - . **** ibid., i. . ***** ibid., , . the _bacchæ_, then, expresses the sentiments of a moment which must often have occurred in greek religion. the greek reverence accepts, hallows and adorns an older faith, which it feels to be repugnant and even alien, but none the less recognises as human and inevitable. from modern human nature the ancient orgiastic impulse of savage revelry has almost died away. in greece it was dying, but before it expired it sanctified and perpetuated itself by assuming a religious form, by draping its naked limbs in the fawn-skin or the bull-skin of dionysus. in precisely the same spirit christianity, among the negroes of the southern states, has been constrained to throw its mantle over what the race cannot discard. the orgies have become camp-meetings; the voodoo-dance is consecrated as the "jerusalem jump". in england the primitive impulse is but occasionally recognised at "revivals". this orgiastic impulse, the impulse of australian corroboree and cherokee fetish-dances, and of the "dancing dervishes" themselves, occasionally seizes girls in modern greece. they dance themselves to death on the hills, and are said by the peasants to be victims of the nereids. in the old classic world they would have been saluted as the nurses and companions of dionysus, and their disease would have been hallowed by religion. of that religion the "bull-horned," "bull-eating," "cannibal" dionysus was the deity; and he was refined away into the youth with yellow-clustered curls, and sleepy eyes, and smiling lips, the girlish youth of the art of praxiteles. so we see him in surviving statues, and seeing him, forget his ghastly rites, and his succession to the rites of goats, and deer, and bulls. athene. among deities for whom an origin has been sought in the personification of elemental phenomena, athene is remarkable. perhaps no divine figure has caused more diverse speculations. the study of her legend is rather valuable for the varieties of opinion which it illustrates than for any real contribution to actual knowledge which it supplies. we can discover little, if anything, about the rise and development of the conception of athene. her local myths and local _sacra_ seem, on the whole, less barbaric than those of many other olympians. but in comparing the conjectures of the learned, one lesson comes out with astonishing clearness. it is most perilous, as this comparison demonstrates, to guess at an origin of any god in natural phenomena, and then to explain the details of the god's legend with exclusive reference to that fancied elemental origin. as usual, the oldest literary references to athene are found in the _iliad_ and _odyssey_. it were superfluous to collect and compare texts so numerous and so familiar. athene appears in the _iliad_ as a martial maiden, daughter of zeus, and, apparently, of zeus alone without female mate.* * iliad, v. , . this is stated explicitly in the homeric hymn to apollo, where athene is said to have been born from the head of zeus (pindar, olympic odes, vii.). she is the patron of valour and the inspirer of counsel; she arrests the hand of achilles when his sword is half drawn from the sheath in his quarrel with agamemnon; she is the constant companion and protector of odysseus; and though she is worshipped in the citadel of troy, she is constant to the cause of the achæans. occasionally it is recorded of her that she assumed the shape of various birds; a sea-bird and a swallow are among her metamorphoses; and she could put on the form of any man she pleased; for example, of deiphobus.* it has often been observed that among the lower races the gods habitually appear in the form of animals. "entre ces facultes qui possedent les immortels, l'une des plus frappantes est celle de se metamorphoser, de prendre des apparences non seulement animales, mais encore de se transformer en objets inanimes."** of this faculty, inherited from the savage stage of thought, athene has her due share even in homer. but in almost every other respect she is free from the heritage of barbarism, and might very well be regarded as the ideal representative of wisdom, valour and manfulness in man, of purity, courage and nobility in woman, as in the phæacian maid nausicæ. * _iliad_, xxii. , xvii. , od. iii. . v. ; _iliad_, vii. . ** maury, _religion de la grece_, i. . in hesiod, as has already been shown, the myth of the birth of athene retains the old barbaric stamp. it is the peculiarity of the hesiodic poems to preserve the very features of religious narrative which homer disregards. according to hesiod, zeus, the youngest child of child-swallowing cronus, married metis after he had conquered and expelled his father. now metis, like other gods and goddesses, had the power of transforming herself into any shape she pleased. her husband learned that her child--for she was pregnant--would be greater than its father, as in the case of the child of thetis. zeus, therefore, persuaded metis to transform herself into a fly. no sooner was the metamorphosis complete than he swallowed the fly, and himself produced the child of metis out of his head.* the later philosophers explained this myth** by a variety of metaphysical interpretations, in which the god is said to contain the all in himself, and again to reproduce it. any such ideas must have been alien to the inventors of a tale which, as we have shown, possesses many counterparts among the lowest and least platonic races.*** c. o. müller remarks plausibly that "the figure of the swallowing is employed in imitation of still older legends," such as those of africa and australia. this leaves him free to imagine a philosophic explanation of the myth based on the word metis.**** we may agree with müller that the "swallow-myth" is extremely archaic in character, as it is so common among the backward races. as to the precise amount, however, of philosophic reflection and allegory which was present to the cosmogonic poet's mind when he used metis as the name of the being who could become a fly, and so be swallowed by her husband, it is impossible to speak with confidence. very probably the poet meant to read a moral and speculative meaning into a barbaric _märchen_ surviving in religious tradition. to the birth of athene from her father's head savage parallels are not lacking. in the legends of the south pacific, especially of mangaia, tangaroa is fabled to have been born from the head of papa.***** * hesiod, theog., , and the scholiast ** lobeck, i. , note . *** see the cronus myth. **** proleg. engl. transl., p. . ***** gill, myths and songs, p. . in the _vafthrudismal_ ( ) a maid and a man-child are born from under the armpits of a primeval gigantic being. the remarks of lucian on miraculous birth have already been quoted.* with this mythical birth for a starting-point, and relying on their private interpretations of the _cognomina_ of the goddess, of her _sacra_, and of her actions in other parts of her legend, the modern mythologists have built up their various theories. athene is now the personification of wisdom, now the dawn, now the air or aether, now the lightning as it leaps from the thunder-cloud; and if she has not been recognised as the moon, it is not for lack of opportunity.** these explanations rest on the habit of twisting each detail of a divine legend into conformity with aspects of certain natural and elemental forces, or they rely on etymological conjecture. for example, welcker*** maintains that athene is "a feminine personification of the upper air, daughter of zeus, the dweller in æther". her name tritogenia is derived**** from an ancient word for water, which, like fire, has its source in æther.***** welcker presses the title of the goddess, "glaucopis," the "grey-green-eyed," into the service. the heaven in attica _oft ebenfalls wunderbar grun ist_.****** * cf. dionysus. ** welcker, i. . *** griechische gotterlehre, gottingen, , i. . **** op. cit., . ***** the ancients themselves were in doubt whether trito were the name of a river or mere, or whether the cretan for the head was intended. see odyssey, butcher and lang, note , p. . ****** op. cit., i. . moreover, there was a temple at methone of athene of the winds (anemotis), which would be a better argument had there not been also temples of athene of the pathway, athene of the ivy, athene of the crag, athene of the market-place, athene of the trumpet, and so forth. moreover, the olive tree is one of the sacred plants of athene. now why should this be? clearly, thinks welcker, because olive-oil gives light from a lamp, and light also comes from æther.* athene also gives telemachus a fair wind in the _odyssey_, and though any lapland witch could do as much, this goes down to her account as a goddess of the air.** * op. cit. i. . ** mr. ruskin's _queen qf the air_ is full of similar ingenuities. leaving welcker, who has many equally plausible proofs to give, and turning to mr. max müller, we learn that athene was the dawn. this theory is founded on the belief that athene = ahana, which mr. max müller regards as a sanskrit word for dawn. "phonetically there is not one word to be said against, ahana = athene, and that the morning light offers the best starting-point for the later growth of athene has been proved, i believe, beyond the reach of doubt, or even of cavil." mr. müller adds that "nothing really important could be brought forward against my equation ahana = athene". it is no part of our province here to decide between the conjectures of rival etymologists, nor to pronounce on their relative merits. but the world cannot be expected to be convinced by philological scholars before they have convinced each other. mr. max müller had not convinced benfey, who offered another etymology of athene, as the feminine of the zend _thrætana athwyana_, an etymology of which mr. müller remarks that "whoever will take the trouble to examine its phonetic foundation will be obliged in common honesty to confess that it is untenable".* meanwhile curtius** is neither for ahana and sanskrit and mr. max müller, nor for benfey and zend. he derives athene from the root _aio_, whence perhaps comes athene, the blooming one" = the maiden. preller, again,*** finds the source of the name athene in _aio_, whence _aion_, "the air," or a flower". he does not regard these etymologies as certain, though he agrees with welcker that athene is the clear height of æther. manifestly no one can be expected to accept as matter of faith an etymological solution which is rejected by philologists. the more fashionable theory for the moment is that maintained some time since by lauer and schwartz, and now by furtwangler in roscher's lexikon, that athene is the "cloud-goddess," or the goddess of the lightning as it springs from the clouds.**** as the lightning in mythology is often a serpent, and as athene had her sacred serpent, "which might be erichthonios,"***** * _nineteenth century_, october, , pp. , . ** gr. et., engl, transl., i. . *** preller, i. . **** cf. lauer, _system der oriesch. myth_., berlin, , p. ; schwartz _ursprung der mythol_, berlin, , p. . ***** paus., xxiv. . schwartz conjectures that the serpent is the lightning and athene the cloud. a long list of equally cogent reasons for identifying athene with the lightning and the thunder-cloud has been compiled by furtwangler, and deserves some attention. the passage excellently illustrates the error of taking poetic details in authors as late as pindar for survivals of the absolute original form of an elemental myth. furtwangler finds the proof of his opinion that athene is originally the goddess of the thunder-cloud and the lightning that leaps from it in the olympic ode.* "by hephaistos' handicraft beneath the bronze-wrought axe from the crown of her father's head athene leapt to light, and cried aloud an exceeding cry, and heaven trembled at her coming, and earth, the mother." the "cry" she gave is the thunderpeal; the spear she carried is the lightning; the ægis or goat-skin she wore is the cloud again, though the cloud has just been the head of zeus.** another proof of athene's connection with storm is the miracle she works when she sets a flame to fly from the head of diomede or of achilles,*** or fleets from the sky like a meteor.**** her possession, on certain coins, of the thunderbolts of zeus is another argument. again, as the trumpet-athene she is connected with the thunder-peal, though it seems more rational to account for her supposed invention of a military instrument by the mere fact that she is a warlike goddess. but furtwangler explains her martial attributes as those of a thunder-goddess, while preller finds it just as easy to explain her moral character as goddess of wisdom by her elemental character as goddess, not at all of the cloud, but of the clear sky.***** * ode, vii. , myers. ** cf. schwartz. ursprung, etc., pp. , . *** iliad, v. , , . **** ibid, iv. . ***** preller, i. . "lastly, as goddess of the heavenly clearness, she is also goddess of spiritual clearness." again, "as goddess of the cloudless heaven, she is also goddess of health",* there could be no more instructive examples of the levity of conjecture than these, in which two scholars interpret a myth with equal ease and freedom, though they start from diametrically opposite conceptions. let athene be lightning and cloud, and all is plain to furtwangler. let athene be cloudless sky, and preller finds no difficulties. athene as the goddess of woman's work as well as of man's, athene ergane, becomes clear to furtwangler as he thinks of the _fleecy_ clouds. probably the storm-goddess, when she is not thundering, is regarded as weaving the fleeces of the upper air. hence the myth that arachne was once a woman, changed by athene into a spider because she contended with her in spinning.** * preller, i. . ** ovid, metamorph., vi. - . the metamorphosis of arachne is merely one of the half-playful aetiological myths of which we have seen examples all over the world. the spider, like the swallow, the nightingale, the dolphin, the frog, was once a human being, metamorphosed by an angry deity. as preller makes athene goddess of wisdom because she is goddess of clearness in the sky, so furtwangler derives her intellectual attributes from her skill in weaving clouds. it is tedious and unprofitable to examine these and similar exercises of facile ingenuity. there is no proof that athene was ever a nature-goddess at all, and if she was, there is nothing to show what was her department of nature. when we meet her in homer, she is patroness of moral and physical excellence in man and woman. manly virtue she typifies in her martial aspect, the armed and warlike maid of zeus; womanly excellence she protects in her capacity of _ergane_, the toiler. she is the companion and guardian of perseus no less than of odysseus.* the sacred animals of athene were the owl, the snake (which accompanies her effigy in athens, and is a form of her foster-child erechtheus), the cock,** and the crow.*** probably she had some connection with the goat, which might not be sacrificed in her fane on the acropolis, where she was settled by Ægeus ("goat-man "?). she wears the goat-skin, _ægis_, in art, but this is usually regarded as another type of the storm-cloud.**** * pindar, olymp., x. ad jin. ** paus., vi. . *** ibid., iv. , . **** roscher, in his lexikon, s.v. ægis, with his arguments there. compare, on this subject of athene as the goddess of a goat-stock. robertson smith on "sacrifice" in the encycl. brit. aphrodite. athene's maiden character is stainless in story, despite the brutal love of hephaestus. this characteristic perhaps is another proof that she neither was in her origin nor became in men's minds one of the amorous deities of natural phenomena. in any case, it is well to maintain a sceptical attitude towards explanations of her myth, which only agree in the determination to make athene a "nature power" at all costs, and which differ destructively from each other as to whether she was dawn, storm, or clear heaven. where opinions are so radically divided and so slenderly supported, suspension of belief is natural and necessary. no polytheism is likely to be without a goddess of love, and love is the chief, if not the original, department of aphrodite in the greek olympus. in the _iliad_ and _odyssey_ and the homeric hymn she is already the queen of desire, with the beauty and the softness of the laughter-loving dame. her cestus or girdle holds all the magic of passion, and is borrowed even by hera when she wishes to win her fickle lord. she disturbs the society of the gods by her famous amours with ares, deceiving her husband, hephaestus, the lord of fire; and she even stoops to the embraces of mortals, as of anchises. in the homeric poems the charm of "golden aphrodite" does not prevent the singer from hinting a quiet contempt for her softness and luxury. but in this oldest greek literature the goddess is already thoroughly greek, nor did later ages make any essential changes in her character. concerning her birth homer and hesiod are not in the same tale; for while homer makes her a daughter of zeus, hesiod prefers, as usual, the more repulsive, and probably older story, which tells how she sprang from the sea-foam and the mutilated portions of cronus.* * iliad, v. ; theog., - . but even in the hesiodic myth it is remarkable that the foam-born goddess first landed at cythera, or again "was born in wave-washed cyprus". her ancient names--the cyprian and the cytherean--with her favoured seats in paphos, idalia and the phoenician settlement of eryx in sicily, combine with historical traditions to show that the greek aphrodite was, to some extent, of oriental character and origin. it is probable, or rather certain, that even without foreign influence the polytheism of greece must have developed a deity of love, as did the mexican and scandinavian polytheisms. but it is equally certain that portions of the worship and elements in the myth of aphrodite are derived from the ritual and the legends of the oriental queen of heaven, adored from old babylon to cyprus and on many other coasts and isles of the grecian seas. the greeks themselves recognised asiatic influence. pausanias speaks of the temple of heavenly aphrodite in cythera as the holiest and most ancient of all her shrines among the hellenes.* herodotus, again, calls the fane of the goddess in askalon of the philistines "the oldest of all, and the place whence her worship travelled to cyprus," as the cyprians say, and the phoenicians planted it in cythera, being themselves emigrants from syria. the semitic element in this greek goddess and her cult first demand attention. among the semitic races with whose goddess of love aphrodite was thus connected the deity had many names. she was regarded as at once the patroness of the moon, and of fertility in plants beasts, and women. among the phoenicians her title is astarte among the assyrians she was istar; among the syrians, aschera; in babylon, mylitta.** common practices in the ritual of the eastern and western goddesses were the licence of the temple-girls, the sacrifices of animals supposed to be peculiarly amorous (sparrows, doves, he-goats), and, above all, the festivals and fasts for adonis. * paus., hi. , . ** so roscher, ausfuhr. lexik., pp. , . see also astarte, p. . there can scarcely be a doubt that adonis--the young hunter beloved by aphrodite, slain by the boar, and mourned by his mistress--is a symbol of the young season, the _renouveau_, and of the spring vegetation, ruined by the extreme heats, and passing the rest of the year in the underworld. adonis was already known to hesiod, who called him, with obvious meaning, the son of _phoenix_ and alphesiboea, while pausanias attributed to him, with equal significance, assyrian descent.* the name of adonis is manifestly a form of the phoenician adon, "lord". the nature of his worship among the greeks is most familiar from the fifteenth idyll of theocritus, with its lively picture of dead adonis lying in state, of the wailing for him by aphrodite, of the little "gardens" of quickly-growing flowers which personified him, and with the beautiful nuptial hymn for his resurrection and reunion to aphrodite. similar rites were customary at athens.** mannhardt gives the main points in the ritual of the adonis-feast thus: the fresh vegetation is personified as a fair young man, who in ritual is represented by a kind of idol, and also by the plants of the "adonis-gardens". the youth comes in spring, the bridegroom to the bride, the vernal year is their honeymoon. in the heat of summer the bridegroom perishes for the nonce, and passes the winter in the land of the dead. his burial is bewailed, his resurrection is rejoiced in. the occasions of the rite are spring and midsummer. the idol and the plants are finally cast into the sea, or into well-water. * apollod., _bibliothec_, iii. , . ** aristoph., _lysistrata_, ; mannhardt, _feld und wold kultus_, ii. . the union of the divine lovers is represented by pairing of men and maidens in bonds of a kindly sentimental sort,--the flowery bonds of valentines. the oriental influence in all these rites has now been recognised; it is perfectly attested both by the phoenican settlements, whence aphrodite-worship spread, and by the very name of her lover, the spring. but all this may probably be regarded as little more than the semitic colouring of a ritual and a belief which exist among indo-european peoples, quite apart from phoenican influence. mannhardt traces the various points in the aphrodite cult already enumerated through the folk-lore of the german peasants. the young lover, the spring, is the maikonig or laubmann; his effigy is a clothed and crowned idol or puppet, or the maibaum. the figure is thrown into the water and bewailed in russia, or buried or burned with lamentations.* he is wakened and kissed by a maiden, who acts as the bride.** finally, we have the "may-pairs," a kind of valentines united in a nominal troth. * i. ; ii. . ** i . the probable conclusion seems to be that the adonis ritual expresses certain natural human ways of regarding the vernal year. it is not unlikely that the ancestors of the greeks possessed these forms of folk-lore previous to their contact with the semitic races, and their borrowing of the very marked semitic features in the festivals. for the rest, the concern of aphrodite with the passion of love in men and with general productiveness in nature is a commonplace of greek literature. it would be waste of space to recount the numerous and familiar fables in which she inspires a happy or an ill-fated affection in gods or mortals. like most other mythical figures, aphrodite has been recognised by mr. max müller as the dawn; but the suggestion has not been generally accepted.* if aphrodite retains any traces of an elemental origin, they show chiefly in that part of her legend which is peculiarly semitic in colour. for the rest, though she, like hermes, gives good luck in general, she is a recognised personification of passion and the queen of love. * roscher, lexikon, p. . hermes. another child of zeus whose elemental origin and character have been much debated is hermes. the meaning of the name** is confessedly obscure. opinion, then, is divided about the elemental origin of hermes and the meaning of his name. his character must be sought, as usual, in ancient poetic myth and in ritual and religion. herodotus recognised his rites as extremely old, for that is the meaning of his remark*** that the athenians borrowed them from the pelasgians, who are generally recognised as prehistoric greeks. ** preller, i. . the name of hermes is connected by welcker (griesch. got., i. ) with (-----), and he gives other examples of the Æolic use of o for e. compare curtius's greek etymology, english translation, , vol. i. p. . mr. max müller, on the other hand (lectures, ii. ), takes hermes to be the son of the dawn. curtius reserves his opinion. mr. max müller recognises saramejas and hermes as deities of twilight. preller (i. ) takes him for a god of dark and gloaming. *** herod., ii. . in the rites spoken of, the images of the god were in one notable point like well-known bushmen and admiralty island divine representations, and like those of priapus.* in cyllene, where hermes was a great resident god, artemidorus** saw a representation of hermes which was merely a large phallus, and pausanias beheld the same sacred object, which was adored with peculiar reverence.*** such was hermes in the elean region, whence he derived his name, cyllenian.**** he was a god of "the liberal shepherds," conceived of in the rudest aspect, perhaps as the patron of fruitfulness in their flocks. manifestly he was most unlike the graceful swift messenger of the gods, and guide of the ghosts of men outworn, the giver of good fortune, the lord of the crowded market-place, the teacher of eloquence and of poetry, who appears in the literary mythology of greece. nor is there much in his pelasgian or his cyllenian form to suggest the elemental deity either of gloaming, or of twilight, or of the storm.***** * can the obscene story of cicero (de nat. deor., iii. , ) be a repetition of the sacred chapter by which herodotus says the pelasgians explained the attribute of the image? ** artem., i. . *** paus., vi. , . **** homeric hymns, iii. . ***** but see welcker, i. , for connection between his name and his pastoral functions. but whether the pastoral hermes of the pelasgians was refined into the messenger-god of homer, or whether the name and honours of that god were given to the rude priapean patron of the shepherds by way of bringing him into the olympic circle, it seems impossible to ascertain. these combinations lie far behind the ages of greece known to us in poetry and history. the province of the god as a deity of flocks is thought to be attested by his favourite companion animal the ram, which often stood beside him in works of art.* in one case, where he is represented with a ram on his shoulder, the legend explained that by carrying a ram round the walls he saved the city of tanagra from a pestilence.** the arcadians also represented him carrying a ram under his arm.*** as to the phallic hermæ, it is only certain that the athenian taste agreed with that of the admiralty islanders in selecting such unseemly images to stand beside every door. but the connection of hermes with music (he was the inventor of the lyre, as the homeric hymn sets forth) may be explained by the musical and poetical character of old greek shepherd life. if we could set aside the various elemental theories of hermes as the storm-wind, the twilight, the child of dawn, and the rest, it would not be difficult to show that one moral conception is common to his character in many of its varied aspects. he is the god of luck, of prosperity, of success, of fortunate adventure. this department of his activity is already recognised in homer. he is giver of good luck.**** he is "hermes, who giveth grace and glory to all the works of men". hence comes his homeric name, the luck-bringer. the last cup at a feast is drunk to his honour "for luck". * pausanias, ii. , . ** for hermes, god of herds and flocks, see preller, i. - . *** pausanias, v. , . **** iliad, xiv. ; od. , . where we cry "shares!" in a lucky find, the greek cried "hermes in common!" a godsend was (------). thus among rough shepherd folk the luck-bringing god displayed his activity chiefly in making fruitful the flocks, but among city people he presided over the mart and the public assembly, where he gave good fortune, and over musical contests.* it is as the lucky god that hermes holds his "fair wand of wealth and riches, three-leafed and golden, which wardeth off all evil"** hermes has thus, among his varied departments, none better marked out than the department of luck, a very wide and important province in early thought. but while he stands in this relation to men, to the gods he is the herald and messenger, and, in some undignified myths, even the pander and accomplice. in the homeric hymn this child of zeus and maia shows his versatile character by stealing the oxen of apollo, and fashioning the lyre on the day of his birth. the theft is sometimes explained as a solar myth; the twilight steals the bright days of the sun-god. but he could only steal them day by day, whereas hermes lifts the cattle in an hour.*** the surname of hermes, is usually connected with the slaying of argus, a supernatural being with many eyes, set by hera to watch io, the mistress of zeus.**** * see also preller, i. , note . ** hymn, . see custom and myth, "the divining rod ". *** preller, i. , note ; welcker, gr. got, i. , and note . **** Æsch., prom. vinct, . hermes lulled the creature to sleep with his music and cut off his head. this myth yields a very natural explanation if hermes be the twilight of dawn, and if argus be the many-eyed midnight heaven of stars watching io, the moon. if hermes be the storm-wind, it seems just as easy to say that he kills argus by driving a cloud over the face of heaven. in his capacity as the swift-winged messenger, who, in the _odyssey_, crosses the great gulf of the sea, and scarce brushes the brine with his feathers, hermes might be explained, by any one so minded, either as lightning or wind. neither hypothesis suits very well with his duties as guide of the ghosts, whom he leads down darkling ways with his wand of gold.* in this capacity he and the ghosts were honoured at the athenian all-souls' day, in february.** such are the chief mythic aspects of hermes. he has many functions; common to all of them is the power of bringing all to a happy end. this resemblance to twilight, "which bringeth all things good," as sappho sang, may be welcome to interpreters who see in hermes a personification of twilight. how ingeniously, and even beautifully, this crepuscular theory can be worked out, and made to explain all the activities of hermes, may be read in an essay of paul de st. victor.*** what is the dawn? the passage from night to day. hermes therefore is the god of all such fleet transitions, blendings, changes. the messenger of the gods, he flits before them, a heavenly ambassador to mortals. two light wings quiver on his rounded cap, _the vault of heaven in little_.... * odyssey, xxiv. - . ** preller, i. , and see the notes on the passage. the ceremonies were also reminiscent of the deluge. *** les deux masques, i. - . the highways cross and meet and increase the meetings of men; so hermes, the ceaseless voyager, is their protecting genius.... who should guide the ghosts down the darkling ways but the deity of the dusk; sometimes he made love to fair ghostly maids whom he attended. so easy is it to interpret all the functions of a god as reflections of elemental phenomena. the origin of hermes remains obscure; but he is, in his poetical shape, one of the most beautiful and human of the deities. he has little commerce with the beasts; we do not find him with many animal companions, like apollo, nor adored, like dionysus, with a ritual in which are remnants of animal-worship. the darker things of his oldest phallic forms remain obscure in his legends, concealed by beautiful fancies, as the old wooden phallic figure, the gift of cecrops, which pausanias saw in athens, was covered with myrtle boughs. though he is occasionally in art represented with a beard, he remains in the fancy as the odysseus met him, "hermes of the golden wand, like unto a young man, with the first down on his cheek, when youth is loveliest". demeter. the figure of demeter, the _mater dolorosa_ of paganism, the sorrowing mother seated on the stone of lamentation, is the most touching in greek mythology. the beautiful marble statue found by mr. newton at cnidos, and now in the british museum, has the sentiment and the expression of a madonna. nowhere in ancient religion was human love, regret, hope and _desiderium_ or wistful longing typified so clearly as in the myth and ritual of demeter. she is severed from her daughter, persephone, who goes down among the dead, but they are restored to each other in the joy of the spring's renewal. the mysteries of eleusis, which represented these events in a miracle-play, were certainly understood by plato and pindar and Æschylus to have a mystic and pathetic significance. they shadowed forth the consolations that the soul has fancied for herself, and gave promise of renewed and undisturbed existence in the society of all who have been dear on earth. yet aristophanes, in the _frogs_, ventures even here to bring in his raillery, and makes xanthias hint that the mystæ, the initiate, "smell of roast-pig". no doubt they had been solemnly sacrificing, and probably tasting the flesh of the pig, the sacred animal of demeter, whose bones, with clay or marble _figurines_ representing him, are found in the holy soil of her temples. thus even in the mystery of demeter the grotesque, the barbaric element appears, and it often declares itself in her legend and in her ritual. a scientific study of demeter must endeavour to disentangle the two main factors in her myth and cult, and to hold them apart. for this purpose it is necessary to examine the development of the cult as far as it can be traced. as to the name of the goddess, for once there is agreement, and even certainty. it seems hardly to be disputed that demeter is greek, and means _mother-earth or earth the mother_.* * welcker, oriech. qml, i. - ; preller, i. , note ; maury, rel. des grdes, l . apparently "a" still means earth in albanian; max müller, selected essays, ii. . there is his mythological panacea. mannhardt is all for "corn-mother," corn being nothing peculiarly hellenic or aryan in the adoration of earth. a comparative study of earth-worship would prove it to be very widely diffused, even among non-european tribes. the demeter cult, however, is distinct enough from the myth of gæa, the earth, considered as, in conjunction with heaven, the parent of the gods. demeter is rather the fruitful soil regarded as a person than the elder titanic formless earth personified as gæa. thus conceived as the foster-mother of life, earth is worshipped in america by the shawnees and potawatomies as _me-mk-kum-mik-o-kwi_, the "mother of earth" it will be shown that this goddess appears casually in a potawatomie legend, which is merely a savage version of the sacred story of eleusis.* tacitus found that mother hertha was adored in germany with rites so mysterious that the slaves who took part in them were drowned. "whereof ariseth a secret terror and an holy ignorance what that should be which they only see who are a-perishing."** it is curious that in the folk-lore of europe, up to this century, food-offerings to the earth were _buried_ in germany and by gipsies; for the same rite is practised by the potawatomies.*** * compare maury, religions de la grece, i. . ** germania, , translation of . *** compare tylor, prim. cult, ii. , with father de smet, oregon missions, new york, , p. . the mexican demeter, centeotl, is well known, and acosta's account of religious ceremonies connected with harvest in mexico and peru might almost be taken for a description of the greek _eiresione_. the god of agriculture among the tongan islanders has one very curious point of resemblance to demeter. in the iliad (v. ) we read that demeter presides over the fanning of the grain. "even as a wind carrieth the chaff about the sacred threshing-floors when men are winnowing, _what time golden demeter, in rush of wind_, maketh division of grain and chaff.".... now the name of the "god of wind, and weather, rain, harvest and vegetation in general" in the tongan islands is alo-alo, literally "to fan".* one is reminded of joachim du bellay's poem, "to the winnowers of corn". thus from all these widely diffused examples it is manifest that the idea of a divinity of earth, considered as the mother of fruits, and as powerful for good or harm in harvest-time, is anything but peculiar to greece or to aryan peoples. in her character as potent over this department of agriculture, the greek goddess was named "she of the rich threshing-floors," "of the corn heaps," "of the corn in the ear," "of the harvest-home," "of the sheaves," "of the fair fruits," "of the goodly gifts," and so forth.** * mariner's _tonga islands_, , ii. . the attic eiresioni may be studied in mannhardt, wald und feld qultus, it , and aztec and peruvian harvest rites of a similar character in custom and myth, pp. - . see also prim. quit., ii. , for other examples. ** welcker, ii, - , a collection of such titles. in popular greek religion, then, demeter was chiefly regarded as the divinity of earth at seed-time and harvest. perhaps none of the gods was worshipped in so many different cities and villages, or possessed so large a number of shrines and rustic chapels. there is a pleasant picture of such a chapel, with its rural disorder, in the _golden ass_ of apuleius. psyche, in her search for cupid, "came to the temple and went in, whereas behold she espied sheaves of corn lying on a heap, blades with withered garlands, and reeds of barley. moreover, she saw hooks, scythes, sickles and other instruments to reape, but everie thing laide out of order, and as it were cast in by the hands of labourers; which when psyche saw she gathered up and put everything in order." the chapel of demeter, in short, was a tool-house, dignified perhaps with some rude statue and a little altar. every village, perhaps every villa, would have some such shrine. behind these observances, and behind the harvest-homes and the rites--half ritual, half folk-lore--which were expected to secure the fertility of the seed sown, there lurked in the minds of priests and in the recesses of sanctuaries certain mystic and secret practices of adoration. in these mysteries demeter was doubtless worshipped in her _chthonian_ character as a goddess of earth, powerful over those who are buried in her bosom, over death and the dead. in these hidden mysteries of her cult, moreover, survived ancient legends of the usual ugly sort, tales of the amours of the goddess in bestial guise. among such rites pausanias mentions, at hermione of dryopian argolis, the _fete_ of chthonian demeter, a summer festival. the procession of men, women, boys and priests dragged a struggling heifer to the doors of the temple, and thrust her in unbound. within the fane she was butchered by four old women armed with sickles. the doors were then opened, and a second and third heifer were driven in and slain by the old women. "this marvel attends the sacrifice, that all the heifers fall on the same side as the first that was slain." there remains somewhat undivulged. "the things which they specially worship, i know not, nor any man, neither native or foreigner, but only the ancient women concerned in the rite."* in arcadia there was a temple of demeter, whose priests boasted a connection with eleusis, and professed to perform the mysteries in the eleusinian manner. here stood two great stones, with another over them, probably (if we may guess) a prehistoric dolmen. within the dolmen, which was so revered that the neighbours swore their chief oath by it, were kept certain sacred scriptures. these were read aloud once a year to the initiated by a priest who covered his face with a mask of demeter. at the same time he smote the earth with rods, and called on the folk below the earth. precisely the same practice, smiting the earth with rods, is employed by those who consult diviners among the zulus.** the zulu woman having a spirit of divination says, "strike the ground for them" (the spirits). "see, they say you came to inquire about something." the custom of wearing a mask of the deity worshipped is common in the religions of animal-worship in egypt, mexico, the south seas and elsewhere. the aztec celebrant, we saw, wore a mask made of the skin of the thigh of the human victim. whether this arcadian demeter was represented with the head of a beast does not appear; she had a mare's head in phigalia. one common point between this demeter of the pheneatæ and the eleusinian is her _taboo_ on beans, which are so strangely mystical a vegetable in greek and roman ritual.*** * paus., li. . ** callaway, izinyanga zokvbula, p. *** for a collection of passages see aglaophamus, - . the black demeter of the phigalians in arcadia was another most archaic form of the goddess. in phigalia the myth of the wrath and reconciliation of the goddess assumed a brutal and unfamiliar aspect. the common legend, universally known, declares that demeter sorrowed for the _enlevement_ of her daughter, persephone, by hades. the phigalians added another cause; the wandering demeter had assumed the form of a mare, and was violently wooed by poseidon in the guise of a stallion.* * the same story was told of cronus and philyra, of agni and a cow in the _satapatha brahmana_ (english translation, i. ), of saranyu, daughter of tvashtri, who "fled in the form of a mare". visvasvat, in like manner, assumed the shape of a horse, and followed her. from their intercourse sprang the two asvins. see muir, sanskrit texts, v. , or _rig- veda_, x. , . here we touch a very curious point. erinnys was au arcadian cognomen of the demeter who was wedded as a mare (paus., viii. ). now, mr. max müller says that "erinnys is the vedic saranyu, the dawn," and we have seen that both demeter erinnys and saranyu were wooed and won in the form of mares (select essays, i. , - ). the curious thing is that, having so valuable a proof in his hand as the common bestial amours of both saranyu and erinnys demeter, mr. max müller does not produce it. the scandinavian horse-loves of loki also recur to the memory. prajapati's loves in the shape of a deer are familiar in the brahmanas. if saranyu=erinnys, and both=dawn, then a dawn- myth has been imported into the legend of demeter, whom nobody, perhaps, will call a dawn-goddess. schwartz, as usual, makes the myth a storm-myth, and demeter a goddess of storms (ursprwig der myth., p. ). the goddess, in wrath at this outrage, attired herself in black mourning raiment, and withdrew into a cave, according to the phigalians, and the fruits of the earth perished. zeus learned from pan the place of demeter's retreat, and sent to her the moeræ or fates, who persuaded her to abate her anger. the cave became her holy place, and there was set an early wooden _xoanon_, or idol, representing the goddess in the shape of a woman with the head and mane of a mare, in memory of her involuntary intrigue in that shape. serpents and other creatures were twined about her head, and in one hand, for a mystic reason undivulged, she held a dolphin, in the other a dove. the wooden image was destroyed by fire, and disasters fell on the phigalians. onatas was then employed to make a bronze statue like the old idol, wherof the fashion was revealed to him in a dream. this restoration was made about the time of the persian war. the sacrifices offered to this demeter were fruits, grapes, honey and uncarded wool; whence it is clear that the black goddess was a true earth-mother, and received the fruits of the earth and the flock. the image by onatas had somewhat mysteriously disappeared before the days of pausanias.* * paus., viii. . compare viii. , , for the horse arion, whom demeter bore to poseidon. even in her rude arcadian shape demeter is a goddess of the fruits of earth. it is probable that her most archaic form survived from the "pelasgian" clays in remote mountainous regions. indeed herodotus, observing the resemblance between the osirian mysteries in egypt and the thesmophoria of demeter in greece, boldly asserts that the thesmophoria were egyptian, and were brought to the pelasgians from egypt (ii. ). the pelasgians were driven out of peloponnesus by the dorians, and the arcadians, who were not expelled, retained the rites. as pelasgians also lingered long in attica, herodotus recognised the thesmophoria as in origin egyptian. in modern language this theory means that the thesmophoria were thought to be a rite of prehistoric antiquity older than the dorian invasion. herodotus naturally explained resemblances in the myth and ritual of distant peoples as the result of borrowing, usually from egypt, an idea revived by m. foucart. these analogies, however, are more frequently produced by the working out of similar thoughts, presenting themselves to minds similarly situated in a similar way. the mysteries of demeter offer an excellent specimen of the process. while the greeks, not yet collected into cities, lived in village settlements, each village would possess its own feasts, mysteries and "medicine-dances," as the red indians say, appropriate to seedtime and harvest. for various reasons, certain of these local rites attained high importance in the development of greek civilisation the eleusinian performances, for instance, were adopted into the state ritual of a famous city, athens, and finally acquired a national status, being open to all not disqualified hellenes. in this development the old local ritual for the propitiation of demeter, for the fertility of the seed sown, and for the gratification of the dead ancestors, was caught up into the religion of the state, and was modified by advancing ideas of religion and morality. but the local athenian mystery of the thesmophoria probably retained more of its primitive shape and purpose. the thesmophoria was the feast of seed-time, and demeter was adored by the women as the patroness of human as well as of universal fertility. thus a certain jocund and licentious element was imparted to the rites, which were not to be witnessed by men. the demeter of the thesmophoria was she who introduced and patronised the (------) of marriage, as homer says of odysseus and penelope.* what was done at the thesmophoria herodotus did not think fit to tell. a scholiast on lucian's _dialogues of courtesans_ let out the secret in a much later age. he repeats the story of the swineherd eubuleus, whose pigs were swallowed up by the earth when it opened to receive hades and persephone. in honour and in memory of eubuleus, pigs were thrown into the cavernof demeter. then certain women brought up the decaying flesh of the dead pigs, and placed it on the altar. it was believed that to mix this flesh with the seed-corn secured abundance of harvest. though the rite is magical in character, perhaps the decaying flesh might act as manure, and be of real service to the farmer. afterwards images of pigs, such as mr. newton found in a hole in the holy plot of demeter at cnidos, were restored to the place whence the flesh had been taken. the practice was believed to make marriage fruitful; its virtues were for the husband as well as for the husbandman.** however the athenians got the rite, whether they evolved it or adapted it from some "pelasgian" or other prehistoric people, similar practices occur among the khonds in india and the pawnees in america. the khonds sacrifice a pig and a human victim, the pawnees a girl of a foreign tribe. * odyssey, xxiii. . ** newton, hulicarn., plate iv. pp. , - . the fragments of flesh are not mixed with the seed-corn, but buried on the borders of the fields.* the ancient, perhaps "pelasgian," ritual of demeter had thus its savage features and its savage analogues. more remarkable still is the pawnee version, as we may call it, of the eleusinia. curiously, the red indian myth which resembles that of demeter and persephone is _not_ told about me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwi, the red indian mother earth, to whom offerings are made, valuable objects being buried for her in brass kettles.** the american tale is attached to the legend of manabozho and his brother chibiabos, not to that of the earth mother and her daughter, if in america she had a daughter. the account of the pawnee mysteries and their origin is worth quoting in full, as it is among the most remarkable of mythical coincidences. if we decline to believe that pere de smet invented the tale for the mere purpose of mystifying mythologists, we must, apparently, suppose that the coincidences are due to the similar workings of the human mind in the prairies as at eleusis. we shall first give the red indian version. it was confided to de smet, as part of the general tradition of the pawnees, by an old chief, and was first published by de smet in his _oregon mission_*** tanner speaks of the legend as one that the indians chant in their "medicine-songs," which record the sacred beliefs of the race.**** * de smet, oregon missions, p. ; mr. russell's, "report" in major campbell's personal narrative, , pp. , . ** tanner's narrative, , p. . *** new york, . **** ibid., new york, , pp. , . he adds that many of these songs are noted down, by a method probably peculiar to the indians, on birch-bark or small flat pieces of wood, the ideas being conveyed by emblematical figures. when it is remembered that the _luck_ of the tribe depends on these songs and rites, it will be admitted that they are probably of considerable antiquity, and that the indians probably did not borrow the story about the origin of their ritual from some european conversant with the homeric hymn to demeter. here follows the myth, as borrowed (without acknowledgment) by schoolcraft from de smet:--* "the manitos (powers or spirits) were jealous of manabozho and chibiabos. manabozho warned his brother never to be alone, but one day he ventured on the frozen lake and was drowned by the manitos. manabozho wailed along the shores. he waged a war against all the manitos.... he called on the dead body of his brother. he put the whole country in dread by his lamentations. he then besmeared his face with black, and sat down six years to lament, uttering the name of chibiabos. the manitos consulted what to do to assuage his melancholy and his wrath. the oldest and wisest of them, who had had no hand in the death of chibiabos, offered to undertake the task of reconciliation. they built a sacred lodge close to that of manabozho, and prepared a sumptuous feast. they then assembled in order, one behind the other, each carrying under his arm a sack of the skin of some favourite animal, as a beaver, an otter, or a lynx, and filled with precious and curious medicines culled from all plants. these they exhibited, and invited him to the feast with pleasing words and ceremonies. he immediately raised his head, uncovered it, and washed off his besmearments and mourning colours, and then followed them. they offered him a cup of liquor prepared from the choicest medicines, at once as a propitiation and an initiatory rite. he drank it at a single draught, and found his melancholy departed. they then commenced their dances and songs, united with various ceremonies. all danced, all sang, all acted with the utmost gravity, with exactness of time, motion and voice. manabozho was cured; he ate, danced, sang and smoked the sacred pipe. * schoolcraft, l . "in this manner the mysteries of the great medicine-dance were introduced. "the manitos now united their powers to bring chibiabos to life. they did so, and brought him to life, but it was forbidden to enter the lodge. they gave him, through a chink, a burning coal, and told him to go and preside over the country of souls and reign over the land of the dead. "manabozho, now retired from men, commits the care of medicinal plants to misukumigakwa, or the mother of the earth, to whom he makes offerings." in all this the resemblance to the legend of the homeric hymn to demeter is undeniable. the hymn is too familiar to require a long analysis. we read how demeter had a fair daughter, persephone; how the lord of the dead carried her off as she was gathering flowers; how demeter sought her with burning torches; and how the goddess came to eleusis and the house of celeus in the guise of an old wife. there she dwelt in sorrow, neither eating nor drinking, till she tasted of a mixture of barley and water (_cyceon_), and was moved to smile by the mirth of iambe. yet she still held apart in wrath from the society of the gods, and still the earth bore not her fruits, till the gods bade hermes restore persephone. but persephone had tasted one pomegranate-seed in hades, and therefore, according to a world-wide belief, she was under bonds to hades. for only half the year does she return to earth; yet by this demeter was comforted; the soil bore fruits again, and demeter showed forth to the chiefs of eleusis her sacred mysteries and the ritual of their performance.* the persephone myth is not in homer, though in homer persephone is lady of the dead. hesiod alludes to it in the _theogony_ ( - ); but the chief authority is the homeric hymn, which matthaeus found ( ) in a farmyard at moscow. "inter pullos et porcos latuerat"--the pigs of demeter had guarded the poem of her mysteries.** as to the date and authorship of the hymn, the learned differ in opinion. probably most readers will regard it as a piece of poetry, like the hymn to aphrodite, rather than as a "mystic chain of verse" meant solely for hieratic purposes. it is impossible to argue with safety that the eleusinian mysteries and legend were later than homer, because homer does not allude to them. * the superstition about the food of the dead is found in new zealand, melanesia, scotland, finland and among the ojibbeways. compare "wandering willie's" tale in _redgaunttet_. ** ruhnken, ap. hignard, _les hymnes homeriques_, p. , paris, . he has no occasion to speak of them. possibly the mysteries were, in his time, but the rites of a village or little town; they attained celebrity owing to their adoption by athens, and they ended by becoming the most famous national festival. the meaning of the legend, in its origin, was probably no more than a propitiation of earth, and a ceremony that imitated, and so secured, the return of spring and vegetation. this early conception, which we have found in america, was easily combined with doctrines of the death and revival, not of the year, not of the seed sown, but of the human soul. these ideas were capable of endless illustration and amplification by priests; and the mysteries, by plato's time, and even by pindar's, were certainly understood to have a purifying influence on conduct and a favourable effect on the fortunes of the soul in the next world. "happy whosoever of mortal men has looked on these things; but whoso hath had no part nor lot in this sacrament hath no equal fate when once he hath perished and passed within the pall of darkness."* of such rites we may believe that plato was thinking when he spoke of "beholding apparitions innocent and simple, and calm and happy, _as in a mystery_"** nor is it strange that, when greeks were seeking for a sign, and especially for some creed that might resist the new worship of christ, plutarch and the neo-platonic philosophers tried to cling to the promise of the mysteries of demeter. * homeric hymn, - . ** phaedrus, . they regarded her secret things as "a dreamy shadow of that spectacle and that rite," the spectacle and rite of the harmonious order of the universe, some time to be revealed to the souls of the blessed.* it may not have been a drawback to the consolations of the hidden services that they made no appeal to the weary and wandering reason of the later heathens. tired out with endless discourse on fate and free will, gods and demons, allegory and explanation, they could repose on mere spectacles and ceremonies and pious ejaculations, "without any evidence or proof offered for the statements ". indeed, writers like plutarch show almost the temper of pascal, trying to secure rest for their souls by a wise passiveness and pious contemplation, and participation in sacraments not understood. as to the origin of these sacraments, we may believe, with lobeck, that it was no priestly system of mystic and esoteric teaching, moral or physical. it was but the "medicine-dance" of a very old greek tribal settlement, perhaps from the first with an ethical element. but from this, thanks to the genius of hellas, sprang all the beauty of the eleusinian ritual, and all the consolation it offered the bereaved, all the comfort it yielded to the weary and heavy laden.** that the popular religious excitement caused by the mysteries and favoured by the darkness often produced scenes of lustful revelry, may be probable enough. "revivals" everywhere have this among other consequences. but we may share lobeck's scepticism as to the wholesale charges of iniquity brought by the fathers. * plutarch, de def. orac. xxii ** lobeck, aglaoph., . in spite of survivals and slanders, the religion of demeter was among the most natural, beautiful and touching of greek beliefs. the wild element was not lacking; but a pious contemporary of plato, when he bathed in the sea with his pig before beholding the mystery-play, probably made up his mind to blink the barbaric and licentious part of the performances. conclusion. this brief review of greek divine myths does not of course aim at exhausting the subject. we do not pretend to examine the legends of all the olympians. but enough has been said to illustrate the method of interpretation, and to give specimens of the method at work. it has been seen that there is only agreement among philologists as to the origin and meaning of two out of nearly a dozen divine names. zeus is admitted to be connected with _dyaus_, and to have originally meant "sky". demeter is accepted as greek, with the significance of "mother earth". but the meaning and the roots of athene, apollo, artemis, hermes, cronus, aphrodite, dionysus--we might add poseidon and hephaestus--are very far from being known. nor is there much more general agreement as to the original elemental phenomena or elemental province held by all of these gods and goddesses. the moon, the wind, the twilight, the sun, the growth and force of vegetation, the dark, the night, the atmosphere, have been shuffled and dealt most variously to the various deities by learned students of myth. this complete diversity of opinion must be accepted as a part in the study. the learned, as a rule, only agree in believing ( ) that the names hold the secret of the original meaning of the gods; and ( ) that the gods are generally personifications of elements or of phenomena, or have been evolved out of such personifications. beyond this almost all is confusion, doubt, "the twilight of the gods". in this darkness there is nothing to surprise. we are not wandering in a magical mist poured around us by the gods, but in a fog which has natural causes. first, there is the untrustworthiness of attempts to analyse proper names. "with every proper name the etymological operation is by one degree more difficult than with an appellative.... we have to deal with two unknown quantities," origin and meaning; whereas in appellatives we know the meaning and have only to hunt for the origin. and of all proper names mythological names are the most difficult to interpret. curtius has shown how many paths may be taken in the analysis of the name achilles. the second part may be of the stem: people, or the stem: stone. does the first part of the word mean "water" (cf. aqua), or is it equivalent to: ("bulwark" or "the people")? or is it akin to: "one who causes pain"? or is the: "prothetic"? and is (it) the root, and does it mean "clear-shining"? or is the word related to (------), and does it mean "dark"? all these and other explanations are offered by the learned, and are chosen by curtius to show the uncertainty and difficulty of the etymological process as applied to names in myth. cornutus remarked long ago that the great antiquity of the name of athene made its etymology difficult. difficult it remains.* whatever the science of language may accomplish in the future, it is baffled for the present by the divine names of greece, or by most of them, and these the most important.** * cf. curtius, greek etym., engl, transl., i. - . ** gruppe, griech. culte und mythtis, p. , selects iapetos, kadmos, kabeiros, adonis, baitylos, typhon, nysos (in dionysos), acheron, kimmerians and gryps, aa certainly phoenician. but these are not the names of the high gods. there is another reason for the obscurity of the topic besides the darkness in which the origin of the names has been wrapped by time. the myths had been very long in circulation before we first meet them in homer and hesiod. we know not whence the gods came. perhaps some of them were the chief divine conceptions of various hellenic clans before the union of clans into states. however this may be, when we first encounter the gods in homer and hesiod, they have been organised into a family, with regular genealogies and relationships. functions have been assigned to them, and departments. was hermes always the herald? was hephaestus always the artisan? was athene from the first the well-beloved daughter of zeus? was apollo from the beginning the mediator with men by oracles? who can reply? we only know that the divine ministry has been thoroughly organised, and departments assigned, as in a cabinet, before we meet the gods on olympus. what they were in the ages before this organisation, we can only conjecture. some may have been adopted from clans whose chief deity they were. if any one took all the samoan gods, he could combine them into a family with due functions and gradations. no one man did this, we may believe, for greece: though herodotus thought it was done by homer and hesiod. the process went on through centuries we know not of; still less do we know what or where the gods were before the process began. thus the obscurity in which the divine origins are hidden is natural and inevitable. our attempt has been to examine certain birth-marks which the gods bear from that hidden antiquity, relics of fur and fin and feather, inherited from ancestral beasts like those which ruled egyptian, american and australian religions. we have also remarked the brilliant divinity of beautiful form which the gods at last attained, in marble, in gold, in ivory and in the fancy of poets and sculptors. here is the truly hellenic element, here is the ideal--athene arming, hera with the girdle of aphrodite, hermes with his wand, apollo with the silver bow--to this the hellenic intellect attained; this ideal it made more imperishable than bronze. finally, the lovely shapes of gods "defecate to a pure transparency" in the religion of aristotle and plutarch. but the gods remain beautiful in their statues, beautiful in the hymns of pindar and the plays of sophocles; hideous, often, in temple myth, and ancient _xoanon_, and secret rite, till they are all, good and evil, cast out by christianity. the most brilliant civilisation of the world never expelled the old savage from its myth and its ritual. the lowest savagery scarcely ever, if ever, wholly loses sight of a heavenly father. in conclusion, we may deprecate the charge of _exclusivism_. the savage element is something, nay, is much, in greek myth and ritual, but it is not everything. the truth, grace and beauty of the myths are given by "the clear spirit" of hellas. nor is all that may be deplored necessarily native. we may well believe in borrowing from phoenicians, who in turn may have borrowed from babylon. examples of this process have occasionally been noted. it will be urged by some students that the wild element was adopted from the religion of prehistoric races, whom the greeks found in possession when first they seized the shores of the country. this may be true in certain cases, but historical evidence is not to be obtained. we lose ourselves in theories of pelasgians and pre-pelasgians, and "la grece avant les grecs". in any case, the argument that the more puzzling part of greek myth is a "survival" would not be affected. borrowed, or inherited, or imitated, certain of the stories and rites are savage in origin, and the argument insists on no more as to that portion of greek mythology. chapter xix. heroic and romantic myths. a new class of myths--not explanatory--popular tales--heroic and romantic myths--( ) savage tales--( ) european contes-- ( ) heroic myths--their origin--diffusion--history of their study--grimm's theory--aryan theory--benfey's theory-- ancient egyptian stories examined--wanderung's theorie-- conclusion. the myths which have hitherto been examined possess, for the most part, one common feature. all, or almost all of them, obviously aim at satisfying curiosity about the causes of things, at supplying gaps in human knowledge. the nature-myths account for various aspects of nature, from the reed by, the river-side that once was a fair maiden pursued by pan, to the remotest star that was a mistress of zeus; from the reason why the crow is black, to the reason why the sun is darkened in eclipse. the divine myths, again, are for the more part essays in the same direction. they try to answer these questions: "who made things?" "how did this world begin?" "what are the powers, felt to be greater than ourselves, which regulate the order of events and control the destinies of men?" myths reply to all these questionings, and the answers are always in accordance with that early nebulous condition of thought and reason where observation lapses into superstition, religion into science, science into fancy, knowledge into fable. in the same manner the myths which we do not treat of here--the myths of the origin of death, of man's first possession of fire, and of the nature of his home among the dead--are all tentative contributions to knowledge. all seek to satisfy the eternal human desire to _know_. "whence came death?" man asks, and the myths answer him with a story of pandora, of maui, of the moon and the hare, or the bat and the tree. "how came fire to be a servant of ours?" the myths tell of prometheus the fire-stealer, or of the fire-stealing wren, or frog, or coyote, or cuttlefish. "what manner of life shall men live after death? in what manner of home?" the myth answers with tales of pohjola, of hades, of amenti, of all that, in the australian black fellow's phrase, "lies beyond the rummut," beyond the surf of the pacific, beyond the "stream of oceanus," beyond the horizon of mortality. to these myths, and to the more mysterious legend of the flood, we may return some other day. for the present, it must suffice to repeat that all these myths (except, perhaps, the traditions of the deluge) fill up gaps in early human knowledge, and convey information as to matters outside of practical experience. but there are classes of tales, or _märchen_, or myths which, as far as can be discovered, have but little of the explanatory element. though they have been interpreted as broken-down nature-myths, the variety of the interpretations put upon them proves that, at least, their elemental meaning is dim and uncertain, and makes it very dubious whether they ever had any such significance at all. it is not denied here that some of these myths and tales may have been suggested by elemental and meteorological phenomena. for example, when we find almost everywhere among european peasants, and among samoyeds and zulus, as in greek heroic-myths of the jason cycle, the story of the children who run away from a cannibal or murderous mother or step-mother, we are reminded of certain nature-myths. the stars are often said* to be the children of the sun, and to flee away at dawn, lest he or their mother, the moon, should devour them. this early observation may have started the story of flight from the cannibal parents, and the legend may have been brought down from heaven to earth. yet this were, perhaps, a far-fetched hypothesis of the origin of a tale which may readily have been born wherever human beings have a tendency (as in north america and south africa) to revert to cannibalism. * nature-myths, vol. i p. . the story is "asterinos und pulja" in von hahn's griech. und alban. marchen. compare samojedische marchen, castren, varies, uber die alt. volk, p. ; callaway, uzembeni. the peculiarity, then, of the myths which we propose to call "heroic and romantic tales" (_märchen contes populaires_), is the absence, as a rule, of any obvious explanatory purpose. they are romances or novels, and if they do explain anything, it is rather the origin or sanction of some human law or custom than the cause of any natural phenomenon that they expound. the kind of traditional fictions here described as heroic and romantic may be divided into three main categories. ( ) first we have the popular tales of the lower and more backward races, with whom may be reckoned, for our present purpose, the more remote and obscure peoples of america. we find popular tales among the bushmen, kaffirs, zulus, samoans, maoris, hurons, samoyeds, eskimos, crees, blackfeet and other so-called savage races. we also find tales practically identical in character, and often in plot and incident, among such a people as the huarochiris, a civilised race brought under the inca empire some three generations before the spanish conquest. the characteristics of these tales are the presence of talking and magically helpful beasts; the human powers and personal existence of even inanimate objects; the miraculous accomplishments of the actors; the introduction of beings of another race, usually hostile; the power of going to and returning from hades--always described in much the same imaginative manner. the persons are sometimes anonymous, sometimes are named while the name is not celebrated; more frequently the tribal culture-hero, demiurge, or god is the leading character in these stories. in accordance with the habits of savage fancy, the chief person is often a beast, such as ananzi, the west african spider; cagn, the bushman grasshopper; or michabo, the algonkin white-hare. animals frequently take parts assigned to men and women in european _märchen_. ( ) in the second place, we have the _märchen_, or _contes_, or household tales of the modern european, asiatic and indian peasantry, the tales collected by the grimms, by afanasief, by von hahn, by miss frere, by miss maive stokes, by m. sebillot, by campbell of islay, and by so many others. every reader of these delightful collections knows that the characteristics, the machinery, all that excites wonder, are the same as in the savage heroic tales just described but it is a peculiarity of the popular tales of the peasantry that the _places_ are seldom named; the story is not localised, and the characters are anonymous. occasionally our lord and his saints appear, and satan is pretty frequently present, always to be defeated and disgraced; but, as a rule, the hero is "a boy," "a poor man" "a fiddler," "a soldier," and so forth, no names being given. ( ) thirdly, we have in epic poetry and legend the romantic and heroic tales of the great civilised races, or races which have proved capable of civilisation. these are the indians, the greeks, romans, celts, scandinavians and germans. these have won their way into the national literatures and the region of epic. we find them in the _odyssey_, the _edda_ the celtic poems, the _ramayana_, and they even appear in the _veda_. they occur in the legends and pedigrees of the royal heroes of greece and germany. they attach themselves to the dim beginnings of actual history, and to real personages like charlemagne. they even invade the legends of the saints. the characters are national heroes, such as perseus, jason, Ædipus and olympian gods, and holy men and women dear to the church, and primal heroes of the north, sigurd and signy. their paths and places are not in dim fairyland, but in the fields and on the shores we know--at roland's pass in the pyrenees, on the enchanted colchian coast, or among the blameless ethiopians, or in thessaly, or in argos. now, in all these three classes of romance, savage fables, rural märchen, greek or german epics, the ideas and incidents are analogous, and the very conduct of the plot is sometimes recognisably the same. the moral ideas on which many of the märchen, sagas, or epic myths turn are often identical. everywhere we find doors or vessels which are not to be opened, regulations for the conduct of husband and wife which are not to be broken; everywhere we find helpful beasts, birds and fishes; everywhere we find legends proving that one cannot outwit his fate or evade the destiny prophesied for him. the chief problems raised by these sagas and stories are--( ) how do they come to resemble each other so closely in all parts of the world? ( ) were they invented once for all, and transmitted all across the world from some centre? ( ) what was that centre, and what was the period and the process of transmission? before examining the solutions of those problems, certain considerations may be advanced. the supernatural _stuff_ of the stories, the threads of the texture, the belief in the life and personality of all things--in talking beasts and trees, in magical powers, in the possibility of visiting the diad--must, on our theory as already set forth, be found wherever men have either passed through savagery, and retained-survivals of that intellectual condition, or wherever they have borrowed or imitated such survivals. by this means, without further research, we may account for the similarity of the stuff of heroic myths and marchen. the stuff is the same as in nature myths and divine myths. but how is the similarity of the arrangement of the incidents and ideas into _plots_ to be accounted for? the sagas, epic myths, and marchen do not appear to resemble each other everywhere (as the nature-myths do), because they are the same ideas applied to the explanation of the same set of natural facts. the sagas, epics and marchen seem to explain nothing, but to be told, in the first instance, either to illustrate and enforce a moral, or for the mere pleasure of imaginative narration. we are thus left, provisionally, with the notion that occasionally the resemblance of plot and arrangement may be _accidental_. in shaking the mental kaleidoscope, which contains a given assortment of ideas, analogous combinations may not impossibly be now and then produced everywhere. or the story may have been invented once for all in one centre, but at a period so incalculably remote that it has filtered, in the exchanges and contacts of prehistoric life, all over the world, even to or from the western pacific and the lonely oceanic islands. or, once more, the story may have had a centre in the old world, say, in india; may have been carried to europe by oral tradition or in literary vehicles, like the _pantschatantra_ or the _hitopadesa_, or by gypsies; may have reached the sailors, and trappers, and miners of civilisation, and may have been communicated by them (in times subsequent to the discovery of america by columbus) to the backward races of the world. these are preliminary statements of possibilities, and theories more or less based on those ideas are now to be examined. the best plan may be to trace briefly the history of the study of popular tales. as early as charles perrault's time ( ), popular traditional tales had attracted some curiosity, more or less scientific. mademoiselle l'heritier, the abbe villiers, and even the writer of the dedication of perrault's _contes_ to mademoiselle, had expressed opinions as to the purposes for which they were first told, and the time and place where they probably arose. the troubadours, the arabs, and the fanciful invention of peasant nurses were vaguely talked of as possible first authors of the popular tales. about the same time, huet, bishop of avranches, had remarked that the hurons in north america amused their winter leisure with narratives in which beasts endowed with speech and reason were the chief characters. little was done to secure the scientific satisfaction of curiosity about traditional folk-tales, contes or marchen till the time when the brothers grimm collected the stories of hesse. the grimms became aware that the stories were common to the peasant class in most european lands, and that they were also known in india and the east. as they went on collecting, they learned that african and north american tribes also had their marchen, not differing greatly in character from the stories familiar to german firesides. already sir walter scott had observed, in a note to the lady of the lake, that "a work of great interest might be compiled upon the origin of popular fiction, and the transmission of similar tales from age to age, and from country to country. the mythology of one period would then appear to pass into the romance of the next, and that into the nursery tales of subsequent ages." this opinion has long been almost universal. thus, if the story of jason is found in greek myths, and also, with a difference, in popular modern marchen, the notion has been that the marchen is the last and youngest form, the _detritus_ of the myth. now, as the myth is only known from literary sources (homer, mimnermus, apollonius rhodius, euripides, and so on), it must follow, on this theory, that the people had borrowed from the literature of the more cultivated classes. as a matter of fact, literature has borrowed far more from the people than the people have borrowed from literature, though both processes have been at work in the course of history. but the question of the relations of marchen to myths, and of both to romance, may be left unanswered for the moment. more pressing questions are, what is the origin, and where the original home of the marchen or popular tales, and how have they been so widely diffused all over the world? the answers given to these questions have naturally been modified by the widening knowledge of the subject. one answer seemed plausible when only the common character of european _contes_ was known; another was needed when the aryan peoples of the east were found to have the same stories; another, or a modification of the second, was called for when marchen like those of europe were found among the negroes, the indians of brazil, the ancient huarochiri of peru, the people of madagascar, the samoyeds, the samoans, the dene hareskins of the extreme american north-west, the zulus and kaffirs, the bushmen, the finns, the japanese, the arabs, and the swahilis. the grimms, in the appendix to their _household tales_,* give a list of the stories with which they were acquainted. out of europe they note first the literary collections of the east, the thousand and one nights and the hitopadesa, which, with the book of sinda-bad, and the pantschatantra, and the katharit sagara, contain almost all of the oriental tales that filtered into western literature through written translations. the grimms had not our store of folk-tales recently collected from the lips of the aryan and non-aryan natives of hindostan, such as the works of miss maive stokes, of miss frere, of captain steel, of mr. lai behar day, and the few santal stories. but the grimms had some kalmuck stories.** * mrs. hunt's translation, london, . ** "the relations of ssidi kur," in bergmann's _nomadische stretfereien_, vol. i. one or two chinese and japanese examples had fallen into their hands, and all this as early as . in later years they picked up a malay story, some bechuana tales, koelle's kanuri or bornu stories, schoolcraft's and james athearn jones's north american legends, finnish, esthonian and mongolian narratives, and an increasing store of european _contes_. the grimms were thus not unaware that the _märchen_, with their surprising resemblances of plot and incident, had a circulation far beyond the limits of the ayran peoples. they were specially struck, as was natural, by the reappearance of incidents analogous to those of the german _contes_ (such as _machandelboom_ and the _singing bone_, , ) among the remote bechuanas of south africa. they found, too, that in sierra leone beasts and birds play the chief parts in _märchen_. "they have a much closer connection with humanity,... nay, they have even priests," as the animals in guiana have _peays_ or sorcerers of their own. "only the beasts of the country itself appear in the _märchen_." among these bornu legends they found several tales analogous to _faithful john_ ( ), and to one in stra-parola's _piacevoli notti_ (venice, ), a story, by the way, which recurs among the santals, an "aboriginal" tribe of india. it is the tale of the man who knows the language of animals, and is warned by them against telling secrets to women. among the indians of north america grimm found the analogue of his tale ( ) of the _elves' gifts_, which, by the way, also illustrates a proverb in japan. finnish, tartar and indian analogues were discovered in plenty. such were grimm's materials; much less abundant than ours, indeed, but sufficient to show him that "the resemblance existing between the stories, not only of nations widely removed from each other by time and distance, but also between those which lie near together, consists partly in the underlying idea and the delineation of particular characters, and partly in the weaving together and unravelling of incidents". how are these resemblances to be explained? that is the question. grimm's answer was, as ours must still be, only a suggestion. "there are situations so simple and natural that they reappear everywhere, just like the isolated words which are produced in a nearly or entirely identical form in languages which have no connection with each other, by the mere imitation of natural sounds." thus to a certain, but in grimm's opinion to a very limited extent, the existence of similar situations in the marchen of the most widely separated peoples is the result of the common facts of human thought and sentiment. to repeat a convenient illustration, if we find talking and rational beasts and inanimate objects, and the occurrence of metamorphosis and of magic, and of cannibals and of ghosts (as we do), in the marchen as in the higher myths of all the world, and if we also find certain curious human customs in the contes, these resemblances may be explained as born of the same early condition of human fancy, which regards all known things as personal and animated, which believes in ghosts and magic, while men also behave in accordance with customs now obsolete and forgotten in civilisation. these common facts are the threads (as we have said) in the cloth of myth and marchen. they were supplied by the universal early conditions of the prescientific human intellect; thus the stuff of marchen is everywhere the same. but why are the patterns--the situations, and the arrangements, and sequence of incidents--also remarkably similar in the contes of unrelated and unconnected tribes and races everywhere? here the difficulty begins in earnest. it is clearly not enough to force the analogy, and reply that the patterns of early fabrics and the decorations of early weapons, of pottery, tattooing marks, and so forth, are also things universally human.* * see custom and myth, "the art of savages," p. . the close resemblances of undeveloped greek and mexican and other early artistic work are interesting, but may be accounted for by similarity of materials, of instruments, of suggestions from natural objects, and of inexperience in design. the selections of similar situations and of similar patterns into which these are interwoven in _märchen_, by greeks, huarochiris of peru, and samoans or eskimos, is much more puzzling to account for. grimm gives some examples in which he thinks that the ideas, and their collocations in the story, can only have originally occurred to one mind, once for all. how is the wide distribution of such a story to be accounted for? grimm first admits "_as rare exceptions_ the probability of a story's passing from one people to another, and firmly rooting itself in foreign soil". but such cases, he says, are "one or two solitary exceptions," whereas the diffusion of stories which, in his opinion, could only have been invented once for all is an extensive phenomenon. he goes on to say, "we shall be asked where the outermost lines of common property in stories begin, and how the lines of affinity are gradated". his answer was not satisfactory even to himself, and the additions to our knowledge have deprived it of any value. "the outermost lines are coterminous with those of the great race which is called indo-germanic." outside of the indo-germanic, or "aryan" race, that is to say, are found none of the _märchen_ which are discovered within the borders of that race. but grimm knew very well himself that this was an erroneous belief. "we see with amazement in such of the stories of the negroes of bornu and the bechuanas (a wandering tribe in south africa) as we have become acquainted with _an undeniable connection with the german ones_, while at the same time their peculiar composition distinguishes them from these." so grimm, though he found "no decided resemblance" in north american stories, admitted that the boundaries of common property in marchen did include more than the "indo-germanic" race. bechuanas, and negroes, and finns, as he adds, and as sir george dasent saw,* are certainly within the fold. * _popular tales from the norse_, , pp. liv., lv. there william grimm left the question in . his tendency apparently was to explain the community of the marchen on the hypothesis that they were the original common store of the undivided aryan people, carried abroad in the long wanderings of the race. but he felt that the presence of the marchen among bechuanas, negroes and finns was not thus to be explained. at the same time he closed the doors against a theory of borrowing, except in "solitary exceptions," and against the belief in frequent, separate and independent evolution of the same story in various unconnected regions. thus grimm states the question, but does not pretend to have supplied its answer. the solutions offered on the hypothesis that the marchen are exclusively aryan, and that they are the _detritus_ or youngest and latest forms of myths, while these myths are concerned with the elemental phenomena of nature, and arose out of the decay of language, have been so frequently criticised that they need not long detain us.* the most recent review of the system is by m. cosquin.** in place of repeating objections which have been frequently urged by the present writer, an abstract of m. cosquin's reasons for differing from the "aryan" theory of von hahn may be given. voh hahn was the collector and editor of stories from the modern greek,*** and his work is scholarly and accomplished. he drew up comparative tables showing the correspondence between greek and german _märchen_ on the one side, and greek and teutonic epics and higher legends or sagas on the other. he also attempted to classify the stories in a certain number of recurring _formula_ or plots. lin von hahn's opinion, the stories were originally the myths of the undivided aryan people in its central asian home. as the different branches scattered and separated, they carried with them their common store of myths, which were gradually worn down into the _detritus_ of popular stories, "the youngest form of the myth". the same theory appeared (in ) in mr. max muller's _chips from a german workshop_**** the undivided aryan people possessed, in its mythological and proverbial phraseology, the seeds or germs, more or less developed, which would nourish, under any sky, into very similar plants--that is, the popular stories. * see our introduction to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's household tales. ** contes populaire de lorraine, paris, , pp. i., xv. *** grieschische und albanesische marchen, . **** vol. ii. p. . against these ideas m. cosquin argues that if the aryan people before its division preserved the myths only in their _earliest germinal form_, it is incredible that, when the separated branches had lost touch of each other, the final shape of their myths, the _märchen_, should have so closely resembled each other as they do. the aryan theory (as it may be called for the sake of brevity) rejects, as a rule, the idea that tales can, as a rule, have been _borrowed_, even by one aryan people from another.* "nursery tales are generally the last things to be borrowed by one nation from another."** then, says m. cosquin, as the undivided aryan people had only the myths in their least developed state, and as the existing peasantry have only the _detritus_ of these myths--the _märchen_--and as you say borrowing is out of the question, how do you account for a coincidence like _this_? in the punjaub, among the bretons, the albanians, the modern greeks and the russians we find a _conte_ in which a young man gets possession of a magical ring. this ring is stolen from him, and recovered by the aid of certain grateful beasts, whom the young man has benefited. his foe keeps the ring in his mouth, but the grateful mouse, insinuating his tail into the nose of the thief, makes him sneeze, and out comes the magical ring! * cox, mythol. of aryan nations, i. . ** max müller, chips, ii. . common sense insists, says m. cosquin, that this detail was invented once for all. it must have first occurred, not in a myth, but in a _conte_ or _märchen_, from which all the others alike proceed. therefore, if you wish the idea of the mouse and the ring and the sneeze to be a part of the store of the undivided aryans, you must admit that they had _contes, märchen_, popular stories, what you call the _detritus_ of myths, as well as myths themselves, before they left their cradle in central asia. "nos ancetres, les peres des nations europeennes, auraient, de cette facon, emporte dans leurs fourgons la collection complete de contes ibleus actuels." in short, if there was no borrowing, myths have been reduced (on the aryan theory) to the condition of _detritus_, to the diamond dust of mar-chen, before the aryan people divided. but this is contrary to the hypothesis. m. cosquin does not pause here. the _märchen_--mouse, ring, sneeze and all--is found among _non-aryan_ tribes, "the inhabitants of mardin in mesopotamia and the kariaines of birmanie".* well, if there was no borrowing, how did the non-aryan peoples get the story? * cosquin, i, xi., xii., with his authorities in note . m. cosquin concludes that the theory he attacks is untenable, and determines that, "after having been invented in this place or that, which we must discover" [if we can], "the popular tales of the various european nations (to mention these alone) have spread all over the world from people to people by way of borrowing". in arriving at this opinion, m. cosquin admits, as is fair, that the grimms, not having our knowledge of non-aryan _märchen_ (mongol, syrian, arab, kabyle, swahili, annamite--he might have added very many more), could not foresee all the objections to the theory of a store common to aryans alone. were we constructing an elaborate treatise on _märchen_, it would be well in this place to discuss the aryan theory at greater length. that theory turns on the belief that popular stories are the _detritus_ of aryan myths. it would be necessary then to discuss the philological hypothesis of the origin and nature of these original aryan myths themselves; but to do so would lead us far from the study of mere popular tales.* leaving the aryan theory, we turn to that supported by m. cosquin himself--the theory, as he says, of benfey.** inspired by benfey, m. cosquin says: "the method must be to take each type of story successively, and to follow it, if we can, from age to age, from people to; people, and see where this voyage of discovery will lead us. now, travelling thus from point to point, often by different routes, we always arrive at the same centre, namely, at india, _not the india of fabulous times_, but the india of actual history." the theory of m. cosquin is, then, that the popular stories of the world, or rather the vast majority of them, were _invented_ in india, and that they were carried from india, during the historical period, by various routes, till they were scattered over all the races among whom they are found. this is a venturesome theory, and is admitted, apparently, to have its exceptions. for example, we possess ancient egyptian popular tales corresponding to those of the rest of the world, but older by far than historical india, from which, according to m. cosquin, the stories set forth on their travels.*** * it has already been attempted in our custom and myth; introduction to mrs. hunt's grimm; la mythologie, and elsewhere. ** for m. benfey's notions, see bulletin de i' academie de saint petersburg, september - , , and pantschatantra, leipzig, . *** see m. maspero's collection, _contes populaires de l'egypte ancienne_, paris, . one of these egyptian tales, the two brothers, was actually written down on the existing manuscript in the time of rameses ii., some years before our era, and many centuries before india had any known history. no man can tell, moreover, how long it had existed before it was copied out by the scribe ennana. now this tale, according to m. cosquin himself, has points in common with _märchen_ from hesse, hungary, russia, modern greece, france, norway, lithuania, hungary, servia, annam, modern india, and, we may add, with samoyed _märchen_, with hottentot _marchen_, and with _märchen_ from an "aboriginal" people of india, the santals. we ask no more than this one _märchen_ of ancient egypt to upset the whole theory that india was the original home of the contes, and that from historic india they have been carried by oral transmission, and in literary vehicles, all over the world. first let us tell the story briefly, and then examine its incidents each separately, and set forth the consequences of that examination. according to the story of _the two brothers_-- once upon a time there were two brothers; anapou was the elder, the younger was called bitiou. anapou was married, and bitiou lived with him as his servant. when he drove the cattle to feed, he heard what they said to each other, and drove them where they told him the pasture was best. one day his brother's wife saw him carrying a very heavy burden of grain, and she fell in love with his force, and said, "come and lie with me, and i will make thee goodly raiment". but he answered, "art thou not as my mother, and my brother as a father to me? speak to me thus no more, and never will i tell any man what a word thou hast said." then she cast dust on her head, and went to her husband, saying, "thy brother would have lain with me; slay him or i die". then the elder brother was like a panther of the south, and he sharpened his knife, and lay in wait behind the door. and when the sun set, bitiou came driving his cattle; but the cow that walked before them all said to him, "there stands thine elder brother with his knife drawn to slay thee". then he saw the feet of his brother under the door, and he fled, his brother following him; and he cried to ra, and ra heard him, and between him and his brother made a great water flow full of crocodiles. now in the morning the younger brother told the elder all the truth, and he mutilated himself, and cast it into the water, and the _calmar_ fish devoured it. and he said, "i go to the valley of acacias" (possibly a mystic name for the next world), "and in an acacia tree i shall place my heart; and if men cut the tree, and my heart falls, thou shalt seek it for seven years, and lay it in a vessel of water. then shall i live again and requite the evil that hath been done unto me. and the sign that evil hath befallen me shall be when the cup of beer in thy hand is suddenly turbid and troubled." then the elder brother cast dust on his head and besmeared his face, and went home and slew his wicked wife. now the younger brother dwelt in the valley of acacias, and all the gods came by that way, and they pitied his loneliness, and chnum made for him a wife.* and the seven hathors came and prophesied, saying, "_she shall die an ill death and a violent_". and bitiou loved her, and told her the secret of his life, and that he should die when his heart fell from the acacia tree. * chnum is the artificer among the gods. now, a lock of the woman's hair fell into the river, and it floated to the place where pharaoh's washermen were at work. and the sweet lock perfumed all the raiment of pharaoh, and the washermen knew not wherefore, and they were rebuked. then pharaoh's chief washerman went to the water and found the hair of the wife of bitiou; and pharaoh's magicians went to him and said, "our lord, thou must marry the woman from whose head this tress of hair hath floated hither". and pharaoh hearkened unto them, and he sent messengers even to the valley of acacias, and they came unto the wife of bitiou. and she said, "first you must slay my husband"; and she showed them the acacia tree, and they out the flower that held the heart of bitiou, and he died. then it so befel that the brother of bitiou held in his hand a cup of beer, and, lo! the beer was troubled. and he said, "alas, my brother!" and he sought his brother's heart, and he found it in the berry of the acacia. then he laid it in a cup of fresh water, and bitiou drank of it, and his heart went into his own place, and lived again. then said bitiou, "lo! i shall become the bull, even apis" (hapi); and they led him to the king, and all men rejoiced that apis was found. but the bull went into the chamber of the king's women, and he spake to the woman that had been the wife of bitiou. and she was afraid, and said to pharaoh, "wilt thou swear to give me my heart's desire?" and he swore it with an oath. and she said, "slay that bull that i may eat his liver". then felt pharaoh sick for sorrow, yet for his oath's sake he let slay the bull. and there fell of his blood two quarts on either side of the son of pharaoh, and thence grew two persea trees, great and fair, and offerings were made to the trees, as they had been gods. then the wife of pharaoh went forth in her chariot, and the tree spake to her, saying, "i am bitiou". and she let cut down that tree, and a chip leaped into her mouth, and she conceived and bare a son. and that child was bitiou; and when he came to full age and was prince of that land, he called together the councillors of the king, and accused the woman, and they slew her. and he sent for his elder brother, and made him a prince in the land of egypt. we now propose to show, not only that the incidents of this tale--far more ancient than historic india as it is--are common in the _märchen_ of many countries, but that they are inextricably entangled and intertwisted with the chief plots of popular tales. there are few of the main cycles of popular tales which do not contain, as essential parts of their machinery, one or more of the ideas and situations of this legend. there is thus at least a presumption that these cycles of story may have been in existence in the reign of rameses ii., and for an indefinite period earlier; while, if they were not, and if they are made of borrowed materials, it may have been from the egypt of an unknown antiquity, not from much later indian sources, that they were adapted. the incidents will now be analysed and compared with those of _märchen_ in general. to this end let us examine the incidents in the ancient egyptian tale of _the two brothers_. these incidents are:-- ( ) the _spretæ injuria formæ_ of the wedded woman, who, having offered herself in vain to a man, her brother-in-law, accuses him of being her assailant. this incident, of course, occurs in homer, in the tale of bellerophon, before we know anything of historic india. this, moreover, seems one of the notions (m. cosquin admits, with benfey, that there are such notions) which are "universally human," and _might_ be invented anywhere. ( ) the egyptian hippolytus is warned of his danger by his cow, which speaks with human voice. every one will recognise the ram which warns phrixus and helle in the jason legend.* in the albanian _märchen_,** a _dog_, not a cow nor a ram, gives warning of the danger. animals, in short, often warn of danger by spoken messages, as the fish does in the brahmanic deluge-myth, and the dog in a deluge-myth from north america. * the authority cited by the scholiast (apoll. rhod., argon., i. ) is hecatseus. scholiast on iliad, vii. , quotes philostephanus. ** von hahn, i. . ( ) the accused brother is pursued by his kinsman, and about to be slain, when ra, at his prayer, casts between him and the avenger a stream full of crocodiles. this incident is at least not very unlike one of the most widely diffused of all incidents of story--the _flight_ in which the runaways cause magical rivers or lakes suddenly to cut off the pursuer. this narrative of the flight and the obstacles is found in scotch, gaelic, japanese (no water obstacle), zulu, russian, samoan, and in "the red horse of the delawares," a story from dacotah, as well as in india and elsewhere.* the difference is, that in the egyptian _conte_, as it has reached us in literary form, the fugitive appeals to ra to help him, instead of magically making a river by throwing water or a bottle behind him, as is customary. it may be conjectured that the substitution of divine intervention in response to prayer for magical self-help is the change made by a priestly scribe in the traditional version.** * see folk-lore journal, april, , review of _houston's popular stories_, for examples of the magic used in the flight. ** maspero, contes, p. , note . ( ) next morning the brothers parley across the stream. the younger first mutilates himself (_atys_) then says he is going to the vale of the acacia, according to m. maspero probably a name for the other world. meanwhile the younger brother will put his _heart_ in a high acacia tree. if the tree is cut down, the elder brother must search for the _heart_, and place it in a jar of water, when the younger brother will revive. here we have the idea which recurs in the samoyed marchen where the men lay aside their hearts, in which are their separable lives. as mr. ralston says,* "this heart-breaking episode occurs in the tales of many lands". in the russian the story is koschchei the deathless, whose "death" (or life) lies in an egg, in a duck, on a log, in the ice.** as mr. ralston well remarks, a very singular parallel to the revival of the egyptian brothers heart in water is the hottentot tale of a girl eaten by a lion. her heart is extracted from the lion, is placed in a calabash of milk, and the girl comes to life again.*** ( ) the younger brother gives the elder a sign magical, whereby he shall know how it fares with the heart. when a cup of beer suddenly grows turbid, then evil has befallen the heart. this is merely one of the old _sympathetic signs_ of story--the opal that darkens; the comb of lemminkainen in the _kalewala_ that drops blood when its owner is in danger; the stick that the hero erects as he leaves home, and which will fall when he is imperilled. in australia the natives practise this magic with a stick, round which they bind the hair of the distant person about whose condition they want to be informed.**** this incident, turning on the belief in _sympathies_, might perhaps be regarded as "universally human" and capable of being invented anywhere. * russian folk-tales, . ** in norse, asbjornsen and moe, ; dasent, . gaelic, campbell, i. , p. . indian, "punchkin," old deccan days, pp. - . samoyed, castren, ethnol. varies liber die altaischen volker., p. . *** bleek, reynard the fox of south africa, p. . **** dawson, australian aborigines, p. , . the stick used is the "throwing stick" wherewith the spear is hurled,( ) the elder brother goes home and kills his wife. the gods pity the younger bitiou in the valley of acacias, and make him a wife. m. cosquin has found in france the trait of the blood that boils in the glass when the person concerned is in danger. ( ) the three hathors come to her creation, and prophesy for her a violent death. for this incident compare perrault's _the sleeping beauty_ and maury's work on _les fees_. the spiritual midwives and prophetesses at the hour of birth are familiar in _märchen_ as fairies, and fates, and mæræ. ( ) the river carries a tress of the hair of bitiou's wife to the feet of pharaoh's washermen; the scent perfumes all the king's linen. pharaoh falls in love with the woman from whose locks this tress has come. for this incident compare _cinderella_. in santal and indian _märchen_ a tress of hair takes the place of the glass-slipper, and the amorous prince or princess will only marry the person from whose head the lock has come. here m. cosquin himself gives siamese, mongol, bengali (lai behar day, p. ), and other examples of the lock of hair doing duty for the slipper with which the lover is smitten, and by which he recognises his true love. ( ) the wife of bitiou reveals the secret of his heart. the people of pharaoh cut down the acacia tree. ( ) his brother reads in the turbid beer the death of bitiou. he discovers the heart and life in a berry of the acacia. it is superfluous to give modern parallels to the various transformations of the life of bitiou. he becomes an apis bull, and his faithless wife desires his death, and wishes to eat his liver, but his life goes on in other forms. this is merely the familiar situation of the ass in _peau d'ane_ (the ass who clearly, before perrault's time, had been human). _demandez lui la peau de ce rare animal!_ in most traditional versions of _cinderella_ will be found examples of the beast, once human, slain by an enemy, yet potent after death. this beast takes the part given by perrault to the fairy godmother. the idea is also familiar in grimm's _machandelboom_ ( ), and was found by casalis among the bechuanas. ( ) the wicked wife obtains the bull apis's death by virtue of a _hasty oath_ of pharaoh's (_jephtha, herodias_). ( ) the blood of the bull grows into two persea trees. here m. cosquin himself supplies parallels of blood turning into trees from hesse (wolf, p. ) and from russian. we may add the ancient lydian myth. when the gods slew agdistis, a drop of his blood became an almond tree, the fruit of which made women pregnant.* * pausanias, vii. . ( ) the persea tree is also cut down by the wicked wife of bitiou. a chip from its boughs is swallowed by the wicked wife, who conceives, like margata in the _kalewala_, and bears a son. the story of agdistis, just quoted, is in point, but the topic is of enormous range, and the curious may consult _le fils de vierge_ by m. h. de charencey. compare also surya bay in _old deccan days_ ( ). the final resurrection of surya bay is exactly like that in the hottentot tale already quoted. surya is drowned by a jealous rival, becomes a golden flower, is burned, becomes a mango; one of the fruits falls into a calabash of milk, and out of the calabash, like the hottentot girl, comes surya! ( ) the son of the persea tree was bitiou, born of his own faithless wife; and when he grew up he had her put to death. even a hasty examination of these incidents from old egypt proves that before india was heard of in history the people of the pharaohs possessed a large store of incidents perfectly familiar in modern marchen. now, if one single egyptian tale yields this rich supply, it is an obvious presumption that the collection of an egyptian grimm might, and probably would, have furnished us with the majority of the situations common in popular tales. m. cosquin himself remarks that these ideas cannot be invented more than once (i. lxvii.). the other egyptian contes, as that of _le prince predestine_ (twentieth dynasty), and the noted _master thief_ of herodotus (ii. ), are merely familiar marchen of the common type, and have numerous well-known analogues. from all these facts m. cosquin draws no certain conclusions. he asks: did egypt borrow these tales from india, or india from egypt? _and were there aryans in india in the time of rameses ii.?_ these questions are beyond conjecture. we know nothing of egyptian relations with prehistoric india. we know not how many aeons the tale of _the two brothers_ may have existed in egypt before ennana, the head librarian, wrote it out for pharaoh's treasurer, qagabou. what we do know is, that if we find a large share of the whole stock of incident of popular tale fully developed in one single story long before india was historic, it is perfectly vain to argue that all stories were imported from historic india. it is impossible to maintain that the single centre whence the stories spread was not the india of fable, but the india of history, when we discover such abundance of story material in egypt before, as far as is known, india \ had even become the india of fable. the topic is altogether too obscure for satisfactory argument. certainly the _märchen_ were at home in egypt before we have even reason to believe that egypt and india were conscious of each other's existence. the antiquity of _märchen_ by the nile-side touches geological time, if we agree with m. maspero that bitiou is a form of osiris, that is, that the osiris myth may have been developed out of the bitiou _märchen_.* * maspero, op. cit., p. , note . the osiris myth is as old as the egypt we know, and the story of bitiou may be either the _detritus_ or the germ of the myth. this gives it a dateless antiquity; and with this _märchen_ the kindred and allied _märchen_ establish a claim to enormous age. but it is quite impossible to say when these tales were first invented. we cannot argue that the cradle of a story is the place where it first received literary form. we know not whence the egyptians came to nile-side; we know not whether they brought the story with them, or found it among some nameless earlier people, fugitives from kor, perhaps, or anywhere else. we know not whether the remote ancestors of modern peoples, african, or european, or asiatic, who now possess forms of the tale, borrowed it from a people more ancient than egypt, or from egypt herself. these questions are at present insoluble. we only know for certain that, when we find anywhere any one of the numerous incidents of the story of _the two brothers_, we can be certain that their original home was _not_ historic india. there is also the presumption that, if we knew more of the tales of ancient egypt, we could as definitely refuse to regard historic india as the cradle of many other _märchen_. thus, in opposition to the hypothesis of borrowing from india, we reach some distinct and assured, though negative, truths. . so far as the ideas in _the two brothers_ are representative of _märchen_ (and these ideas are inextricably interwoven with some of the most typical legends), _historic_ india is certainly and demonstrably _not_ the cradle of popular tales. these are found far earlier already in the written literature of egypt. . as far as these ideas are representative of _märchen_, there is absolutely no evidence to show that _märchen_ sprang from india, whether historical or prehistoric; nor is any connection proved between ancient egypt and prehistoric india. . as far as _märchen_ are represented by the ideas in _the two brothers_ and the _predestined prince_, there is absolutely no evidence to show in what region or where they were originally invented. the bellerophon story rests on a _donnee_ in _the two brothers_; the _flight_ rests on another; _cinderella_ reposes on a third; the giant with no heart in his body depends on a fourth; the _milk-white dove_ on the same; and these incidents occur in hottentot, bechuana, samoyed, samoan, as well as in greek, scotch, german, gaelia now, as all these incidents existed in egyptian _marchen_ fourteen hundred years before christ, they _may_ have been dispersed without indian intervention. one of the white raiders from the northern sea may have been made captive, like the pseud-odysseus, in egypt; may have heard the tales; may have been ransomed, and carried the story to greece or libya, whence a greek got it. southwards it may have passed up the nile to the great lakes, and down the congo and zambesi, and southward ever with the hordes of t'chaka's ancestors. all these processes are possible and even probable, but absolutely nothing is known for certain on the subject. it is only as manifest as facts can be that all this might have occurred if the indian peninsula _did not exist._ another objection to the hypothesis of distribution from historic india is the existence of sagas or epic legends corresponding to marchen in pre-homeric greece. the story of jason, for example, is in its essential features, perhaps, the most widely diffused of all.* the story of the return of the husband, and of his difficult recognition by his wife, the central idea of the _odyssey_, is of wide distribution, and the _odyssey_ (as fenelon makes the ghost of achilles tell homer in hades) is _un amas de contes de vieilles_. the cyclops, the siren, scylla, and the rest,** these tales did not reach greece from historic india at least, and we have no reason for supposing that india before the dawn of history was their source. * custom and myth, "a far-travelled tale ". ** gerland, alt griechische marchen in der odyssee. the reasons for which india has been regarded as a great centre and fountain-head of popular stories are, on the other hand, excellent, if the theory is sufficiently limited. the cause is _vera causa_. marchen certainly did set out from mediaeval india, and reached mediaeval europe and asia in abundance. not to speak of oral communications in the great movements, missions and migrations, tartar, crusading, gypsy, commercial and buddhistic--in all of which there must have been "swopping of stories"--it is certain that western literature was actually invaded by the _contes_ which had won away into the literature of india.* these are facts beyond doubt, but these facts must not be made the basis of too wide an inference. though so many stories have demonstrably been borrowed from india in the historical period, it is no less certain that many existed in europe before their introduction. again, as has been ably argued by a writer in the _athenaeum_ (april , ), the literary versions of the tales probably had but a limited influence on the popular narrators, the village gossips and grandmothers. thus no collection of published tales has ever been more popular than that of charles perrault, which for many years has been published not only in cheap books, but in cheaper broadsheets. * cosquin, op. cit., i. xv., xxiv.; max müller, "the migrations of fables," selected essays, vol. ii., appendix; benfey, pantschatantra; comparetti, introduction to book of sindibad, english translation of the folk-lore society. yet m. sebillot and other french collectors gather from the lips of peasants versions of _cinderella_, for example, quite unaffected by perrault's version, and rich in archaic features, such as the presence of a miracle-working beast instead of a fairy godmother. that detail is found in kaffir, and santhal, and finnish, as well as in celtic, and portuguese, and scottish variants, and has been preserved in popular french traditions, despite the influence of perrault. in the same way, m. carnoy finds only the faintest traces of the influence of a collection so popular as the _arabian nights_. the peasantry regard tales which they read in books as quite apart from their inherited store of legend.* * sebillot's popular cendrillon is le taureau bleu in contes de la haute bretagne. see also m. carnoy's contes francais, , p. . if printed literature has still so little power over popular tradition, the manuscript literature of the middle ages must have had much less, though sometimes _contes_ from india were used as parables by preachers. thus we must beware of over-estimating the effect of importation from india, even where it distinctly existed. even the versions that were brought in the middle ages by oral tradition must have encountered versions long settled in europe--versions which may have been current before any scribe of egypt perpetuated a legend on papyrus. once more, the indian theory has to account for the presence of tales in africa and america among populations which are not known to have had any contact with india at all. where such examples are urged, it is usual to say that the stories either do not really resemble our _märchen_, or are quite recent importations by europeans, dutch, french, english and others.* here we are on ground where proof is difficult, if not impossible. assuredly french influence declares itself in certain narratives collected from the native tribes of north america. on the other hand, when the _märchen_ is interwoven with the national traditions and poetry of a remote people, and with the myths by which they account to themselves for the natural features of their own country, the hypothesis of recent borrowing from europeans appears insufficient. a striking example is the song of siati (a form of the jason myth) among the people of samoa.** even more remarkable is the presence of a crowd of familiar _märchen_ in the national traditions of the huarochiri, a pre-inca civilised race of southern peru. these were published, or at least collected and written down, by francisco de avila, a spanish priest, about . he remarks that "these traditions are deeply rooted in the hearts of the people of this province".*** these traditions refer to certain prehistoric works of engineering or accidents of soil, whereby the country was drained. the huarochiri explained them by a series of _märchen_ about huthiacuri, pariaca (culture-heroes), and about friendly animals which aided them in the familiar way. in the same manner exactly the people of the marais of poitou have to account for the drainage of the country, a work of the twelfth century. * cosquin, op. cit, , xix. ** turner's samoa, p. . *** rites of the incas. hakluyt society. the third document in the book. the _märchen_ have been examined by me in _the marriage of cupid and psyche_, p. lxxii. they attribute the old works to the local hero, gargantua, who "drank up all the water".* no one supposes that this legend is borrowed from rabelais, and it seems even more improbable that the huarochiri hastily borrowed _märchen_ from the spaniards, and converted them before into national myths. * _revue des traditions populaires_, april , , p. . we have few opportunities of finding examples of remote american _märchen_ recorded so early as this, and generally the hypothesis of recent borrowing from europeans, or from negroes influenced by europeans, is at least possible, and it would be hard to prove a negative. but the case of the huarochiri throws doubt on the hypothesis of recent borrowing as the invariable cause of the diffusion of _märchen_ in places beyond the reach of historic india. the only way (outside of direct evidence) to prove borrowing would be to show that ideas and customs peculiarly indian (for example) occur in the _märchen_ of people destitute of these ideas. but it would be hard to ask believers in the indian theory to exhibit such survivals. in the first place, if _contes_ have been borrowed, it seems that a new "local colour" was given to them almost at the moment of transference. the zulu and kaffir _märchen_ are steeped in zulu and kaffir colour, and the life they describe is rich in examples of rather peculiar native rites and ceremonies, seldom if ever essential to the conduct of the tale. thus, if stories are "adapted" (like french plays) in the moment of borrowing, it will be cruel to ask supporters of the indian theory for traces of indian traits and ideas in european _märchen_. again, apart from special yet non-essential matters of etiquette (such as the ceremonies with which certain kinsfolk are treated, or the initiation of girls at the marriageable age), the ideas and customs found in marchen are practically universal as has been shown, the super-natural stuff--metamorphosis, equality of man, beasts and things, magic and the like--_is_ universal. thus little remains that could be fixed on as especially the custom or idea of any one given people. for instance, in certain variants of _puss in boots_, swahili, avar, neapolitan, the beast-hero makes it a great point that, when he dies, he is to be _honourably buried_. now what peoples give beasts honourable burial? we know the cases of ancient egyptians, samoans, arabs and athenians (in the case, at least, of the wolf), and probably there are many more. thus even so peculiar an idea or incident as this cannot be proved to belong to a definite region, or to come from any one original centre.* * see deulin, gontes de ma mire l'oye, and reinhold kohler in gonzenbach's siclianische marchen, no. . by the very nature of the case, therefore, it is difficult for m. cosquin and other supporters of the indian theory to prove the existence of indian ideas in european marchen. nor do they establish this point. they urge that _charity to beasts_ and the _gratitude of beasts_, as contrasted with human lack of gratitude, are indian, and perhaps buddhist ideas. thus the buddha gave his own living body to a famished tigress. but so, according to garcilasso, were the subjects of the incas wont to do, and they were not buddhists. the beasts in marchen, again, are just as often, or even more frequently, helpful to men without any motive of gratitude; nor would it be fair to argue that the notion of gratitude has dropped out, because we find friendly beasts all the world over, totems and manitous, who have never been benefited by man. the favours are all on the side of the totems. it is needless to adduce again the evidence on this topic. m. cosquin adds that the belief in the equality and interchangeability of attributes and aspect between man and beast is "une idee bien indienne," and derived from the doctrine of metempsychosis, "qui efface la distinction entre l'homme et l'animal, et qui en tout vivant voit un frere". but it has been demonstrated that this belief in the equality and kinship not only of all animate, but all inanimate nature, is the very basis of australian, zuni and all other philosophies of the backward races. no idea can be less peculiar to india; it is universal. once more, the belief that shape-shifting (metamorphosis) can be achieved by skin-shifting, by donning or doffing the hide of a beast, is no more "peculiarly indian" than the other conceptions. benfey, to be sure, laid stress on this point;* but it is easy to produce examples of skin-shifting and consequent metamorphosis from roman, north american, old scandinavian, thlinkeet, slav and vogul ritual and myths.** there remains only a trace of polygamy in european marchen to speak of specially indian influence.*** but polygamy is not peculiar to india, nor is monogamy a recent institution in europe. * pantschatantra, i . ** marriage of cupid and psyche, pp. lx., lxiv., where examples and authorities are given. *** cosquin, op. cit, i., xxx. thus each "peculiarly indian" idea supposed to be found in marchen proves to be practically universal. so the whole indian hypothesis is attacked on every side. _contes_ are far older than _historic_ india. nothing raises even a presumption that they first arose in _prehistoric_ india. they are found in places where they could hardly have travelled from historic india. their ideas are not peculiarly indian, and though many reached europe and asia in literary form derived from india during the middle ages, and were even used as parables in sermons, yet the majority of european folk-tales have few traces of indian influence. some examples of this influence, as when the "frame-work" of an oriental collection has acquired popular circulation, will be found in professor crane's interesting book, _italian popular tales_, pp. , . but to admit this is very different from asserting that german _hausmarchen_ are all derived from "indian and arabian originals, with necessary changes of costume and manners," which is, apparently, the opinion of some students. what remains to do is to confess ignorance of the original centre of the _märchen_, and inability to decide dogmatically which stories must have been invented only once for all, and which may have come together by the mere blending of the universal elements of imagination. it is only certain that no limit can be put to a story's power of flight _per ora virum_. it may wander wherever merchants wander, wherever captives are dragged, wherever slaves are sold, wherever the custom of exogamy commands the choice of alien wives. thus the story flits through the who let race and over the whole world. wherever human communication is or has been possible, there the story may go, and the space of time during which the courses of the sea and the paths of the land have been open to story is dateless and unknown. here the story may dwindle to a fireside tale; there it may become an epic in the mouth of homer or a novel in the hands of madame d'aulnoy or miss thackeray. the savage makes the characters beasts or birds; the epic \ poet or saga-man made them heroic kings, or lovely, baleful sorceresses, daughters of the sun; the french countess makes them princesses and countesses. like its own heroes, the popular story can assume every shape; like some of them, it has drunk the waters of immortality.* * a curious essay by mr. h. e. warner, on "the magical flight," urges that there is no plot, but only a fortuitous congeries of story-atoms (scribner's magazine, june, ). there is a good deal to be said, in this case, for mr. warner's conclusions. appendix a. fontenelle's forgotten common sense in the opinion of aristotle, most discoveries and inventions have been made time after time and forgotten again. aristotle may not have been quite correct in this view; and his remarks, perhaps, chiefly applied to politics, in which every conceivable and inconceivable experiment has doubtless been attempted. in a field of less general interest--namely, the explanation of the absurdities of mythology--the true cause was discovered more than a hundred years ago by a man of great reputation, and then was quietly forgotten. why did the ancient peoples--above all, the greeks--tell such extremely gross and irrational stories about their gods and heroes? that is the riddle of the mythological sphinx. it was answered briefly, wittily and correctly by fontenelle; and the answer was neglected, and half a dozen learned but impossible theories have since come in and out of fashion. only within the last ten years has fontenelle's idea been, not resuscitated, but rediscovered. the followers of mr. e. b. taylor, mannhardt, gaidoz, and the rest, do not seem to be aware that they are only repeating the notions of the nephew of corneille. the academician's theory is stated in a short essay, de l'origine des fables (oeuvres: paris, , vol. iii. p. ). we have been so accustomed from childhood, he says, to the absurdities of greek myth, that we have ceased to be aware that they are absurd. why are the legends of men and beasts and gods so incredible and revolting? why have we ceased to tell such tales? the answer is, that early men were in "a state of almost inconceivable savagery and ignorance," and that the greek myths are inherited from people in that condition. "look at the kaffirs and iroquois," says fontenelle, "if you wish to know what early men were like; and remember that even the iroquois and kaffirs are people with a long past, with knowledge and culture (_politesse_) which the first men did not enjoy." now the more ignorant a man is, the more prodigies he supposes himself to behold. thus the first narratives of the earliest men were full of monstrous things, "parce qu'ils etoient faits par des gens sujets a voir bien des choses qui n'etaient pas". this condition answers, in mr. tylor's system, to the confusion the savage makes between dreams and facts, and to the hallucinations which beset him when he does not get his regular meals. here, then, we have a groundwork of irresponsible fancy. the next step is this: even the rudest men are curious, and ask "the reason why" of phenomena. "ii y a eu de la philosophie meme dans ces siecles grossiers;" and this rude philosophy "greatly contributed to the origin of myths ". men looked for causes of things. "'whence comes this river?' asked the reflective man of those ages--a queer philosopher, yet one who might have been a descartes did he live to-day. after long meditation, he concluded that some one had always to keep filling the source whence the stream springs. and whence came the water? our philosopher did not consider so curiously. he had evolved the myth of a water-nymph or naiad, and there he stopped. the characteristic of these mythical explanations--as of all philosophies, past, present and to come--was that they were limited by human experience. early man's experience showed him that effects were produced by conscious, sentient, personal causes like himself. he sprang to the conclusion that all hidden causes were also persons. these persons are the _dramatis personæ_ of myth. it was a person who caused thunder, with a hammer or a mace; or it was a bird whose wings produced the din. "from this rough philosophy which prevailed in the early ages were born the gods and goddesses"--deities made not only in the likeness of man, but of savage man as he, in his ignorance and superstition, conceived himself to be. fontenelle might have added that those fancied personal causes who became gods were also fashioned in the likeness of the beasts, whom early man regarded as his equals or superiors. but he neglects this point. he correctly remarks that the gods of myth appear immoral to us because they were devised by men whose morality was all unlike ours--who prized justice less than power, especially (he might have added) magical power. as morality ripened into self-consciousness, the gods improved with the improvement of men; and "the gods known to cicero are much better than those known to homer, because better philosophers have had a hand at their making". moreover, in the earliest speculations an imaginative and hair-brained philosophy explained all that seemed extraordinary in nature; while the sphere of philosophy was filled by fanciful narratives about facts. the constellations called the bears were accounted for as metamorphosed men and women. indeed, "all the metamorphoses are the physical philosophy of these early times," which accounted for every fact by what we now calletiological nature-myths. even the peculiarities of birds and beasts were thus explained. the partridge flies low because daedalus (who had seen his son icarus perish through a lofty flight) was changed into a partridge. this habit of mind, which finds a story for the solution of every problem, survives, fontenelle remarks, in what we now call folk-lore--popular tradition. thus, the elder tree is said to have borne as good berries as the vine does till judas iscariot hanged himself from its branches. this story must be later than christianity; but it is precisely identical in character with those ancient metamorphoses which ovid collected. the kind of fancy that produced these and other prodigious myths is not peculiar, fontenelle maintains, to eastern peoples. "it is common to all men," at a certain mental stage--"in the tropics or in the regions of eternal ice." thus the world-wide similarities of myths are, on the whole, the consequence of a worldwide uniformity of intellectual development. fontenelle hints at his proof of this theory. he compares the myths of america with those of greece, and shows that distance in space and difference of race do not hinder peruvians and athenians from being "in the same tale". "for the greeks, with all their intelligence, did not, in their beginnings, think more rationally than the savages of america, who were also, apparently, a rather primitive people (_assez nouveau_)." he concludes that the americans might have become as sensible as the greeks if they had been allowed the leisure. with an exception in the israelites, fontenelle decides that all nations made the astounding part of their myths while they were savages, and retained them from custom and religious conservatism. but myths were also borrowed and interchanged between phoenicia, egypt and greece. further, greek misunderstandings of the meanings of phoenician and other foreign words gave rise to myths. finally, myths were supposed to contain treasures of antique mysterious wisdom; and mythology was explained by systems which themselves are only myths, stories told by the learned to themselves and to the public. "it is not science to fill one's head with the follies of phoenicians and greeks, but it is science to understand what led greeks and phoenicians to imagine these follies." a better and briefer system of mythology could not be devised; but the mr. casaubons of this world have neglected it, and even now it is beyond their comprehension. appendix b. reply to objections in a work which perhaps inevitably contains much controversial matter, it has seemed best to consign to an appendix the answers to objections against the method advocated. by this means the attention is less directed from the matter in hand, the exposition of the method itself. we have announced our belief that a certain element in mythology is derived from the mental condition of savages. to this it is replied, with perfect truth, that there are savages and savages; that a vast number of shades of culture and of nascent or retrograding civilisation exist among the races to whom the term "savage" is commonly applied. this is not only true, but its truth is part of the very gist of our theory. it is our contention that myth is sensibly affected by the varieties of culture which prevail among so-called savage tribes, as they approach to or decline from the higher state of barbarism. the anthropologist is, or ought to be, the last man to lump all savages together, as if they were all on the same level of culture. when we speak of "the savage mental condition," we mean the mental condition of all uncultivated races who still fail to draw any marked line between man and the animate or inanimate things in the world, and who explain physical phenomena on a vague theory, more or less consciously held, that all nature is animated and endowed with human attributes. this state of mind is nowhere absolutely extinct; it prevails, to a limited extent, among untutored european peasantry, and among the children of the educated classes. but this intellectual condition is most marked and most powerful among the races which ascend from the condition of the australian murri and the bushmen, up to the comparatively advanced maoris of new zealand and algonkins or zunis of north america. these are the sorts of people who, for our present purpose, must be succinctly described as still in the savage condition of the imagination. again, it is constantly objected to our method that we have no knowledge of the past of races at present in the savage status. "the savage are as old as the civilised races, and can as little be named primitive," writes dr. fairbairn.* mr. max müller complains with justice of authors who "speak of the savage of to-day as if he had only just been sent into the world, forgetting that, as a living species, he is probably not a day younger than ourselves".** but mr. max müller has himself admitted all we want, namely, _that savages or nomads represent an earlier stage of culture than even the ancient sanskrit-speaking aryans_, this follows from the learned writer's assertion that savage tongues, kaffir and so forth, are still in the childhood which hebrew and the most ancient sanskrit had long left behind them.*** "we see in them" (savage languages) "what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language with all its childish pranks." these "pranks" are the result of the very habits of savage thought which we regard as earlier than "the most ancient sanskrit". * academy, th july, . a ** hibb. lect., p. . *** lectures on science of language, nd series, p. . thus mr. max müller has admitted all that we need--admitted that savage language (and therefore, in his view, savage thought) is of an earlier stratum than, for example, the language of the vedas. no more valuable concession could be made by a learned opponent. objections of an opposite character, however, are pushed, along with the statement that we have no knowledge of the past of savages. savages were not always what they are now; they may have degenerated from a higher condition; their present myths may be the corruption of something purer and better; above all, savages are not _primitive_. all this contention, whatever its weight, does not affect the thesis of the present argument. it is quite true that we know nothing directly of the condition, let us say, of the australian tribes a thousand years ago except that it has left absolutely no material traces of higher culture. but neither do we know anything directly about the condition of the indo-european peoples five hundred years before philology fancies that she gets her earliest glimpse of them. we must take people as we find them, and must not place too much trust in our attempts to reconstruct their "dark backward". as to the past of savages, it is admitted by most anthropologists that certain tribes have probably seen better days. the fuegians and the bushmen and the digger indians were probably driven by stronger races out of seats comparatively happy and habits comparatively settled into their present homes and their present makeshift wretchedness.* * the fuegiaus are not (morally and socially) so black as they have occasionally been painted. but it is probable that they "have seen better days". if the possession of a language with, apparently, a very superfluous number of words is a proof of high civilisation in the past, then the fuegians are degraded indeed. but the finding of one piece of native pottery in an australian burial-mound would prove more than a wilderness of irregular verbs. but while degeneration is admitted as an element in history, there seems no tangible reason for believing that the highest state which bushmen, fuegians, or diggers ever attained, and from which they can be thought to have fallen, was higher than a rather more comfortable savagery. there are ups and downs in savage as in civilised life, and perhaps "crowned races may degrade," but we have no evidence to show that the ancestors of the diggers or the fuegians were a "crowned race". their descent has not been comparatively a very deep one; their presumed former height was not very high. as mr. tylor observes, "so far as history is to be our criterion, progression is primary and degradation secondary; culture must be gained before it can be lost". one thing about the past of savages we do know: it must have been a long past, and there must have been a period in it when the savage had even less of what aristotle calls (------) even less of the equipment and provision necessary for a noble life than he possesses at present. his past must have been long, because great length of time is required for the evolution of his exceedingly complex customs, such as his marriage laws and his minute etiquette. mr. herbert spencer has deduced from the multiplicity, elaborateness and wide diffusion of australian marriage laws the inference that the australians were once more civilised than they are now, and had once a kind of central government and police. but to reason thus is to fail back on the old greek theory which for every traditional custom imagined an early legislative hero, with a genius for devising laws, and with power to secure their being obeyed. the more generally accepted view of modern science is that law and custom are things slowly evolved under stress of human circumstances. it is certain that the usual process is from the extreme complexity of savage to the clear simplicity of civilised rules of forbidden degrees. wherever we see an advancing civilisation, we see that it does not put on new, complex and incomprehensible regulations, but that it rather sloughs off the old, complex and incomprehensible regulations bequeathed to it by savagery. this process is especially manifest in the laws of forbidden degrees in marriage--laws whose complexity among the australians or north american indians "might puzzle a mathematician," and whose simplicity in a civilised country seems transparent even to a child. but while the elaborateness and stringency of savage customary law point to a more, and not a less barbarous past, they also indicate a past of untold duration. somewhere in that past also it is evident that the savage must have been even worse off materially than he is at present. even now he can light a fire; he has a bow, or a boomerang, or a blowpipe, and has attained very considerable skill in using his own rough tools of flint and his weapons tipped with quartz. now man was certainly not born in the possession of fire; he did not come into the world with a bow or a boomerang in his hand, nor with an instinct which taught him to barb his fishing-hooks. these implements he had to learn to make and use, and till he had learned to use them and make them his condition must necessarily have been more destitute of material equipment than that of any races known to us historically. thus all that can be inferred about the past of savages is that it was of vast duration, and that at one period man was more materially destitute, and so far more struggling and forlorn, than the murri of australia were when first discovered by europeans. even then certain races _may_ have had intellectual powers and potentialities beyond those of other races. perhaps the first fathers of the white peoples of the north started with better brains and bodies than the first fathers of the veddahs of ceylon; but they all started naked, tool-less, fire-less. the only way of avoiding these conclusions is to hold-that men, or some favoured races of man, were created with civilised instincts and habits of thought, and were miraculously provided with the first necessaries of life, or were miraculously instructed to produce them without passing through slow stages of experiment, invention and modification. but we might as well assume, with some early biblical commentators, that the naked adam in paradise was miraculously clothed in a vesture of refulgent light. against such beliefs we have only to say that they are without direct historical confirmation of any kind. but if, for the sake of argument, we admit the belief that primitive man was miraculously endowed, and was placed at once in a stage of simple and happy civilisation, our thesis still remains unaffected. dr. fairbairn's saying has been quoted, "the savage are as old as the civilised races, and can as little be called primitive". but we do not wish to call savages primitive. we have already said that savages have a far-stretching unknown history behind them, and that (except on the supposition of miraculous enlightenment followed by degradation) their past must have been engaged in slowly evolving their rude arts, their strange beliefs and their elaborate customs. undeniably there is nothing "primitive" in a man who can use a boomerang, and who must assign each separate joint of the kangaroo he kills to a separate member of his family circle, while to some of those members he is forbidden by law to speak. men were not born into the world with all these notions. the lowest savage has sought out or inherited many inventions, and cannot be called "primitive". but it never was part of our argument that savages _are_ primitive. our argument does not find it necessary to claim savagery as the state from which all men set forth. about what was "primitive," as we have no historical information on the topic, we express no opinion at all. man may, if any one likes to think so, have appeared on earth in a state of perfection, and may have degenerated from that condition. some such opinion, that purity and reasonableness are "nearer the beginning" than absurdity and unreasonableness, appears to be held by mr. max müller, who remarks, "i simply say that in the veda we have a nearer approach to a beginning, and an intelligible beginning, than in the wild invocations of hottentots or bushmen".* * lectures on india. would mr. müller add, "i simply say that in the arts and political society of the vedic age we have a nearer approach to a beginning than in the arts and society of hottentots and bushmen"? is the use of chariots, horses, ships--are kings, walled cities, agriculture, the art of weaving, and so forth, all familiar to the vedic poets, nearer the beginning of man's civilisation than the life of the naked or skin-clad hunter who has not yet learned to work the metals, who acknowledges no king, and has no certain abiding-place? if not, why is the religion of the civilised man nearer the beginning than that of the man who is not civilised? we have already seen that, in mr. max muller's opinion, his language is much farther from the beginning. whatever the primitive condition of man may have been, it is certain that savagery was a stage through which he and his institutions have passed, or from which he has copiously borrowed. he may have degenerated from perfection, or from a humble kind of harmless simplicity, into savagery. he may have risen into savagery from a purely animal condition. but however this may have been, modern savages are at present in the savage condition, and the ancestors of the civilised races passed through or borrowed from a similar savage condition. as mr. tylor says, "it is not necessary to inquire how the savage state first came to be upon the earth. it is enough that, by some means or other, it has actually come into existence."* it is a stage through which all societies have passed, or (if that be contested) a condition of things from which all societies have borrowed. this view of the case has been well put by m. darmesteter.** * prim. cult., i . ** revue critique, january, . he is speaking of the history of religion. "if savages do not represent religion in its germ, if they do not exemplify that vague and indefinite thing conventionally styled 'primitive religion,' at least they represent a stage through which all religions have passed. the proof is that a very little research into civilised religions discovers a most striking similarity between the most essential elements of the civilised and the non-historic creeds." proofs of this have been given when we examined the myths of greece. we have next to criticise the attempts which have been made to discredit the _evidence_ on which we rely for our knowledge of the intellectual constitution of the savage, and of his religious ideas and his myths and legends. if that evidence be valueless, our whole theory is founded on the sand. the difficulties in the way of obtaining trustworthy information about the ideas, myths and mental processes of savages are not only proclaimed by opponents of the anthropological method, but are frankly acknowledged by anthropologists themselves. the task is laborious and delicate, but not impossible. anthropology has, at all events, the advantage of studying an actual undeniably existing state of things, to sift the evidence as to that state of things, to examine the opportunities, the discretion, and the honesty of the witnesses, is part of the business of anthropology. a science which was founded on an uncritical acceptance of all the reports of missionaries, travellers, traders, and "beach-combers," would be worth nothing. but, as will be shown, anthropology is fortunate in the possession of a touchstone, "like that," as theocritus says, "wherewith the money-changers try gold, lest perchance base metal pass for true". the "difficulties which beset travellers and missionaries in their description of the religious and intellectual life of savages" have been catalogued by mr. max muller. as he is not likely to have omitted anything which tells against the evidence of missionaries and travellers, we may adopt his statement in an abridged shape, with criticisms, and with additional illustrations of our own.* * hibbert lectures, p. first, "few men are quite proof against the fluctuations of public opinion". thus, in rousseau's time, many travellers saw savages with the eyes rousseau--that is, as models of a simple "state of nature". in the same way, we may add, modern educated travellers are apt to see savages in the light cast on them by mr. tylor or sir john lubbock. mr. im thurn, in guiana, sees with mr. tylor's eyes; messrs. fison and howitt, among the kamilaroi in australia, see with the eyes of mr. lewis morgan, author of _systems of consanguinity_. very well; we must allow for the bias in each case. but what are we to say when the travellers who lived long before begnard report precisely the same facts of savage life as the witty frenchman who wrote that "next to the ape, the laplander is the animal nearest to man"? what are we to say when the mariner, or beach-comber, or indian interpreter, who never heard of rousseau, brings from canada or the marquesas islands a report of ideas or customs which the trained anthropologist finds in new guinea or the admiralty islands, and with which the inca, garcilasso de la vega, was familiar in peru? if the wesleyan missionary in south africa is in the same tale with the jesuit in paraguay or in china, while the lutheran in kamtschatka brings the same intelligence as that which they contribute, and all three are supported by the shipwrecked mariner in tonga and by the squatter in queensland, as well as by the evidence, from ancient times and lands, of strabo, diodorus and pausanias, what then? is it not clear that if pagan greeks, jesuits and wesleyans, squatters and anthropologists, indian interpreters and the fathers of the christian church, are all agreed in finding this idea or that practice in their own times and countries, their evidence is at least unaffected by "the fluctuations of public opinion"? this criterion of undesigned coincidence in evidence drawn from protestants, catholics, pagans, sceptics, from times classical, mediaeval and modern, from men learned and unlearned, is the touchstone of anthropology. it will be admitted that the consentient testimony of persons in every stage of belief and prejudice, of ignorance and learning, cannot agree, as it does agree, by virtue of some "fluctuation of public opinion". it is to be regretted that, in mr. max muller's description of the difficulties which beset the study of savage religious ideas, he entirely omits to mention, on the other side, the corroboration which is derived from the undesigned coincidence of independent testimony. this point is so important that it may be well to quote mr. tylor's statement of the value of the anthropological criterion:-- it is a matter worthy of consideration that the accounts of similar phenomena of culture, recurring in different parts of the world, actually supply incidental proof of their own authenticity. some years since a question which brings out this point was put to me by a great historian, "how can a statement as to customs, myths, beliefs, etc., of a savage tribe be treated as evidence where it depends on the testimony of some traveller or missionary who may be a superficial observer, more or less ignorant of the native language, a careless retailer of unsifted talk, a man prejudiced, or even wilfully deceitful?" this question is, indeed, one which every ethnographer ought to keep clearly and constantly before his mind. of course he is bound to use his best judgment as to the trustworthiness of all authors he quotes, and if possible to obtain several accounts to certify each point in each locality. but it is over and above these measures of precaution that the test of recurrence comes in. if two independent visitors to different countries, say a mediaeval mohammedan in tartary and a modern englishman in dahomey, or a jesuit missionary in brazil and a wesleyan in the fiji islands, agree in describing some analogous art, or rite, or myth among the people they have visited, it becomes difficult or impossible to set down such correspondence to accident or wilful fraud. a story by a bushranger in australia may perhaps be objected to as a mistake or an invention; but did a methodist minister in guinea conspire with him to cheat the public by telling the same story there? the possibility of intentional or unintentional mystification is often barred by such a state of things as that a similar statement is made in two remote lands by two witnesses, of whom a lived a century before b, and b appears never to have heard of a. how distant are the countries, how wide apart the dates, how different the creeds and characters of the observers in the catalogue of facts of civilisation, needs no farther showing to any one who will even glance at the footnotes of the present work. and the more odd the statement, the less likely that several people in several places should have made it wrongly. this being so, it seems reasonable to judge that the statements are in the main truly given, and that their close and regular coincidence is due to the cropping up of similar facts in various districts of culture. now the most important facts of ethnography are vouched for in this way. experience leads the student after a while to expect and find that the phenomena of culture, as resulting from widely-acting similar causes, should recur again and again in the world. he even mistrusts isolated statements to which he knows of no parallel elsewhere, and waits for their genuineness to be shown by corresponding accounts from the other side of the earth or the other end of history. so strong indeed is the means of authentication, that the ethnographer in his library may sometimes presume to decide not only whether a particular explorer is a shrewd and honest observer, but also whether what he reports is conformable to the general rules of civilisation. _non quia, sed quid._ it must be added, as a rider to mr. tylo^s remarks, that anthropology is rapidly making the accumulation of fresh and trustworthy evidence more difficult than ever. travellers and missionaries have begun to read anthropological books, and their evidence is therefore much more likely to be biassed now by anthropological theories than it was of old. when mr. m'lennan wrote on "totems" in ,* he was able to say, "it is some compensation for the completeness of the accounts that we can thoroughly trust them, as the totem has not till now got itself mixed up with speculations, and accordingly the observers have been unbiassed. but as anthropology is now more widely studied, the _naif_ evidence of ignorance and of surprise grows more and more difficult to obtain." * fortnightly review, october . we may now assert that, though the evidence of each separate witness may be influenced by fluctuations of opinion, yet the consensus of their testimony, when they are unanimous, remains unshaken. the same argument applies to the private inclination, and prejudice, and method of inquiry of each individual observer. travellers in general, and missionaries in particular, are biassed in several distinct ways. the missionary is sometimes anxious to prove that religion can only come by revelation, and that certain tribes, having received no revelation, have no religion or religious myths at all. sometimes the missionary, on the other hand, is anxious to demonstrate that the myths of his heathen flock are a corrupted version of the biblical narrative. in the former case he neglects the study of savage myths; in the latter he unconsciously accommodates what he hears to what he calls "the truth". in modern days the missionary often sees with the eyes of mr. herbert spencer. the traveller who is not a missionary may either have the same prejudices, or he may be a sceptic about revealed religion. in the latter case he is perhaps unconsciously moved to put burlesque versions of biblical stories into the mouths of his native informants, or to represent the savages as ridiculing (dr. moffat found that they did ridicule) the scriptural traditions which he communicates to them. yet again we must remember that the leading questions of a european inquirer may furnish a savage with a thread on which to string answers which the questions themselves have suggested. "have you ever had a great flood?" "yes." "was any one saved?" the leading question starts the invention of the savage on a deluge-myth, of which, perhaps, the idea has never before entered his mind. the last is a source of error pointed out by mr. codrington:* * journal of anthrop. inst, february . "the questions of the european are a thread on which the ideas of the native precipitate themselves". now, as european inquirers are prone to ask much the same questions, a people which, like some celts and savages, "always answers yes," will everywhere give much the same answers. mr. romilly, in his book on the western pacific,* remarks, "in some parts of new britain, if a stranger were to ask, 'are there men with tails in the mountains?' he would probably be answered 'yes,' that being the answer which the new briton" (and the north briton, too, very often) "would imagine was expected of him, and would be most likely to give satisfaction. the train of thought in his mind would be something like this, 'he must know that there are no such men, but he cannot have asked so foolish a question without an object, and therefore he wishes me to say 'yes!' of course the first 'yes' leads to many others, and in a very short time everything is known about these tailed men, and a full account of them is sent home." what is true of tailed men applies to native answers about myths and customs when the questions are asked by persons who have not won the confidence of the people nor discovered their real beliefs by long and patient observation. this must be borne in mind when missionaries tell us that savages believe in one supreme deity, in a mediator, and the like, and it must be borne in mind when they tell us that savages have no supreme being at all. always we must be wary! a very pleasing example of inconsistency in reports about the same race may be found in a comparison of the account of the khonds in the thirteenth volume of the royal asiatic society with the account given by general campbell in his _personal narrative_, the inquirer in the former case did not know the khond language, and trusted to interpreters, who were later expelled from the public service. general campbell, on the other hand, believed himself to possess "the confidence of the priests and chiefs," and his description is quite different. in cases of contradictions like these, the anthropologist will do well to leave the subject alone, unless he has very strong reasons for believing one or other of the contending witnesses. * _the western pacific and new guinea_, london, , pp. - . ** hibbert lectures, p. . we have now considered the objections that may be urged against the bias of witnesses. mr. max müller founds another objection on "the absence of recognised authorities among savages".* this absence of authority is not always complete; the maoris, for example, have traditional hymns of great authority and antiquity. there are often sacred songs and customs (preserved by the red indians in chants recorded by picture-writing on birch bark), and there always is some teaching from the mothers to their children, or in the mysteries. all these, but, above all, the almost immutable sacredness of _custom_, are sources of evidence. but, of course, the story of one savage informant may differ widely from that of his neighbour. the first may be the black sheep of the tribe, the next may be the saint of the district. "both would be considered by european travellers as unimpeachable authorities with regard to their religion." this is too strongly stated. even the inquiring squatter will repose more confidence in the reports about his religion of a black with a decent character, or of a black who has only recently mixed with white men, than in those of a rum-bibbing loafer about up-country stations or a black professional bowler on a colonial cricket-ground. our best evidence is from linguists who have been initiated into the secret mysteries. still more will missionaries and scholars like bleek, hahn, codrington, castren, gill, callaway, theal, and the rest, sift and compare the evidence of the most trustworthy native informants. the merits of the travellers we have named as observers and scholars are freely acknowledged by mr. max müller himself. to their statements, also, we can apply the criterion: does bleek's report from the bushmen and hottentots confirm castren's from the finns? does codrington in melanesia tell the same tale as gill in mangia or theal among the kaffirs? are all confirmed by charlevoix, and lafitau, and brebeuf, the old catholic apostles of the north american indians? if this be so, then we may presume that the inquirers have managed to extract true accounts from some of their native informants. the object of the inquiry, of course, is to find out, not what a few more educated and noble members of a tribe may think, nor what some original speculative thinker among a lower race may have worked out for himself, but to ascertain the general character of the ideas most popular and most widely prevalent among backward peoples. a third objection is that the priests of savage tribes are not unimpeachable authorities. it is pointed out that even christian clergy have their differences of opinion. naturally we expect most shades of opinion where there is most knowledge and most liberty, but the liberty of savage heterodoxy is very wide indeed. we might almost say that (as in the mythology of greece) there is _no_ orthodox mythical doctrine among savages. but, amidst minor diversities, we have found many ideas which are universal both in savage and civilised myths. _quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_. it is on this universal element of faith, not on the discrepancies of local priests, that we must fix our attention. many a different town in greece showed the birthplace or tomb of this or that deity. the essential point is that all agreed in declaring that the god was born or died. once more--and this is a point of some importance when we are told that priests differ from each other in their statements--we must remember that these very differences are practically universal in all mythology, even in that of civilised races. thus, if one savage authority declares that men came originally out of trees, while his fellow-tribesman avers that the human race was created out of clay, and a third witness maintains that his first ancestors emerged from a hole in the ground, and a fourth stands to it that his stock is descended from a swan or a serpent, and a fifth holds that humanity was evolved from other animal forms, these savage statements appear contradictory. but when we find (as we do) precisely the same sort of contradictions everywhere recurring among civilised peoples, in greece, india, egypt, as well as in africa, america and australia, there seems no longer any reason to distrust the various versions of the myth which are given by various priests or chiefs. each witness is only telling the legend which he has heard and prefers, and it is precisely the coexistence of all these separate monstrous beliefs which makes the enigma and the attraction of mythology. in short, the discrepancies of savage myths are not an argument against the authenticity of our information on the topic, because the discrepancies themselves are repeated in civilised myth. _semper et ubique, et ab omnibus_. to object to the presence of discrepant accounts is to object to mythology for being mythological. another objection is derived from the "unwillingness of savages to talk about religion," and from the difficulty of understanding them when they do talk of it. this hardly applies when europeans are initiated into savage mysteries. we may add a fair example of the difficulty of learning about alien religions. it is given by garcilasso de la vega, son of an inca princess, and a companion of pizarro.*" * garcilaaso de la vega, royal commentaries, vol, i. . the method that our spaniards adopted in writing their histories was to ask the indians in spanish touching the things they wanted to find out from them. these, from not having a clear knowledge of ancient things, or from bad memories, told them wrong, or mixed up poetical fables with their replies. and the worst of it was that neither party had more than a very imperfect knowledge of the language of the other, so as to understand the inquiry and to reply to it.... in this great confusion, the priest or layman who asked the questions placed the meaning to them which was nearest to the desired answer, or which was most like what the indian was understood to have said. thus they interpreted according to their pleasure or prejudice, and wrote things down as truths which the indians never dreamt of. as an example of these comparisons, garcilasso gives the discovery of the doctrine of the trinity among the people of peru. a so-called _icona_ was found answering to the father, a son (_racab_) and a holy spirit (_estrua_); nor was the virgin lacking, nor even st. anne. "all these things are fictions of the spaniards." but no sooner has garcilasso rebuked the spaniards and their method, than he hastens to illustrate by his own example another difficulty that besets us in our search for evidence of myths. he says, as if it were a matter of certain fact, that tlasolteute, a kind of priapus, god of lust, and ometoctilti, god of drunkenness, and the god of murder, and the others, "were the names of _men and women_ whom the natives of that land worshipped as gods and goddesses". thus garcilasso euhemerises audaciously, as also does sahagun in his account of mexican religion. we have no right to assume that gods of natural departments (any more than dionysus and priapus and ares) had once been real men and were deified, on evidence like the statement of garcilassp. he is giving his own euhemeristic guess as if it were matter of fact, and this is a common custom with even the more intelligent of the early missionaries. another example of the natural difficulty in studying the myths of savages may be taken from mr. sproat's _scenes of savage life_ ( ). there is an honesty and candour in mr. sproat's work which by itself seems to clear this witness, at least, of charges of haste or prejudice. the religion of savages, says this inquirer, "is a subject as to which a traveller might easily form erroneous opinions, owing to the practical difficulty, even to one skilled in the language, of ascertaining the true nature of their superstitions. this short chapter is the result of more than four years' inquiry, made unremittingly, under favourable circumstances. there is a constant temptation, from which the unbiassed observer cannot be quite free, to fill up in one's mind, without proper material, the gap between what is known of the religion of the natives for certain, and the larger less-known portion, which can only be guessed at; and i frequently found that, under this temptation, i was led on to form, in my own mind, a connected whole, designed to coincide with some ingenious theory which i might wish to be true. generally speaking, it is necessary, i think, to view with suspicion _any very regular account_ given by travellers of the religion of savages." (yet we have seen the absence of "regularity," the differences of opinion among priests, objected to by mr. max müller as a proof of the untrustworthy nature of our evidence.) "the real religious notions of savages cannot be separated from the vague and unformed, as well as bestial and grotesque, mythology with which they are intermixed. the faint struggling efforts of our natures in so early or so little advanced a stage of moral and intellectual cultivation can produce only a medley of opinions and beliefs, not to be dignified by the epithet religious, which are held loosely by the people themselves, and are neither very easily discovered nor explained." when we came to civilised mythologies, we found that they also are "bestial and grotesque," "loosely held," and a "medley of opinions and beliefs ". mr. sproat was "two years among the ahts, with his mind constantly directed to the subject of their religious beliefs," before he could discover that they had any such beliefs at all. traders assured him that they had none. he found that the ahts were "fond of mystification" and of "sells"; and, in short, this inquirer, living with the ahts like an aht, discounted every sort of circumstance which could invalidate his statement of their myths.* * pp. - . now, when we find mr. codrington taking the same precautions in melanesia, and when his account of melanesian myths reads like a close copy of mr. sproat's account of aht legends, and when both are corroborated by the collections of bleek, and hahn, and gill, and castren, and eink, in far distant corners of the world, while the modern testimony of these scholarly men is in harmony with that of the old jesuit missionaries, and of untaught adventurers who have lived for many years with savages, surely it will be admitted that the difficulty of ascertaining savage opinion has been, to a great extent, overcome. if all the evidence be wrong, the coincidences of the witnesses with each other and of the savage myths they report with the myths of greeks and aryans of india will be no less than a miracle. we have now examined the objections urged against a system founded on the comparative study of savage myths. it cannot be said of us (as it has been said of de brosses), that "whatever we find in the voyages of sailors and traders is welcome to us; that we have a theory to defend, and whatever seems to support it is sure to be true". our evidence is based, to a very great extent, on the communications of missionaries who are acknowledged to be scholarly and sober men. it is confirmed by other evidence, catholic, dissenting, pagan, scientific, and by the reports of illiterate men, unbiassed by science, and little biassed by religion. but we have not yet exhausted our evidence, nor had recourse to our ultimate criterion. that evidence, that criterion, is derived from the study of comparative institutions, of comparative ritual, of comparative law, and of comparative customs. in the widely diffused rites and institutions which express themselves in actual practice we have sure evidence for the ideas on which the customs are founded. for example, if a man pays away his wampum, or his yams, or his arrow-heads to a magician for professional services, it follows that he _does_ believe in magic. if he puts to death a tribesman for the sin of marrying a woman to whom he was only akin by virtue of common descent from the same beast or plant, it seems to follow that he _does_ believe in descent from and kinship with plants and beasts. if he buries food and valuable weapons with his dead, it follows that he _does_, or that his fathers did, believe in the continued life of the dead. at the very least, in all three cases the man is acting on what must once have been actual beliefs, even if the consequent practices be still in force only through custom, after the real faith has dwindled away. thus the belief, past or present, in certain opinions can be deduced from actual practices, just as we may deduce from our own coronation service the fact that oil, anointed on a man's head by a priest, was once believed to have a mysterious efficacy, or the fact that a certain rough block of red sand-stone was once supposed to have some kind of sacredness. of all these sources of evidence, none is more valuable than the testimony of ritual. a moment's reflection will show that ritual, among any people, wild or civilised, is not a thing easily altered. if we take the savage, _his_ ritual consists mainly of the magical rites by which he hopes to constrain his gods to answer his prayers, though he may also "reveal" to the neophyte "our father". if we examine the greeks, we discover the same element in such rites as the attic thesmophoria, the torch-dance of demeter, the rainmaking on the arcadian mount lycæus, with many other examples. meanwhile the old heathen ritual survives in europe as rural folklore, and we can thus display a chain of evidence, from savage magic to greek ritual, with the folklore of germany, france, eussia and scotland for the link between these and our own time. this is almost our best evidence for the ancient idea about gods and their service. from the evidence of institutions, then, the evidence of reports may be supplemented. "the direct testimony," as m. darmesteter says, "heureusement peut-etre supplee par le temoignage indirect, celui qui porte sur les usages, les coutumes, l'ordre exterieur de la vie," everything that shows us religious faith embodied in action. now these actions, also, are only attested by the reports of travellers, missionaries and historians. but it is comparatively easy to describe correctly what is _done_, much more easy than to discover what is _thought_. yet it will be found that the direct evidence of institutions corroborates the less direct evidence as to thought and opinion. thus an uncommonly strong texture of testimony is woven by the coincidence of evidence, direct and indirect, ancient and modern, of learned and unlearned men, of catholics, protestants, pagans and sceptics. what can be said against that evidence we have heard. we have examined the objections based on "the influence of public opinion on travellers," on "the absence of recognised authorities among savages," on the discrepancies of the authorities who are recognised, on the "unwillingness of savages to talk of their religion," and on the difficulty of understanding them when they do talk of it. but after allowing for all these drawbacks (as every anthropologist worthy of the name will, in each case, allow), we have shown that there does remain a body of coincident evidence, of authority, now learned and critical, now uncritical and unlearned, which cannot be set aside as "extremely untrustworthy". this authority is accepted in questions of the evolution of art, politics, handicraft; why not in questions of religion? it is usually evidence given by men who did not see its tendency or know its value. a chance word in the veda shows us that a savage point of marriage etiquette was known to the poet. a sneer of theophrastus, a denunciation of ezekiel, an anecdote of herodotus, reveal to us the practices of contemporary savages as they existed thousands of years ago among races savage or civilised. a traveller's tale of melville or mandeville proves to be no mere "yarn," but completes the evidence for the existence in asia or the marquesas islands of belief and rites proved to occur in europe or india. such is the nature of the evidence for savage ideas, and for their survivals in civilisation; and the amount of the evidence is best known to him who has to plod through tracts, histories and missionary reports. transcriber's note this version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. italics are delimited with the '_' character as _italic_. the 'oe' ligature is printed as separate characters. non-english language quotations are given as printed. passages in greek are transliterated, and denoted as [greek: athiopas toi ...]. footnotes have been consolidated and moved to directly follow the paragraph where they are referenced. in the printed version, footnotes were numbered consecutively, beginning anew with each chapter. here, they have been re-sequenced for uniqueness. references to those notes in the text and the transcriber's errata are to the new numbers. there are several footnotes that appear in other footnotes. these have been lettered as [a], [b], [c], and follow the note containing the reference. in a number of places, passages are compared by placing them in parallel columns, usually across several pages. the left hand column is given contiguously with a wide right margin, and then the right hand column, with a large left margin. on p. , four columns are used for comparison. each is given in turn, with no attempt to simulate the format. please see the notes at the end of this text for a more detailed list of specific issues encountered and the resolutions of each. tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. printed by ballantyne and company edinburgh and london tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. by lord arundell of wardour. london: burns, oates, & company, & portman street, and paternoster row. . contents. chap. page preface, ix memoir of colonel george macdonell, c.b., xix i. the law of nations, ii. the law of nature, iii. primitive life, iv. chronology from the point of view of tradition, v. chronology from the point of view of science, vi. palmer on egyptian chronology, vii. the tradition of the human race, viii. mythology, ix. assyrian mythology, x. the tradition of noah and the deluge, xi. diluvian traditions in africa and america, xii. sir john lubbock on tradition, xiii. noah and the golden age, xiv. sir h. maine on the law of nations, xv. the declaration of war, preface. i shall have no hope of conveying to the reader, within the narrow limits of a preface, any fuller idea of the purport of this work than its title expresses; and as the chapters are necessarily interdependent, i can indicate no short-cut in the perusal by which this information can be obtained. i venture to think that those who are interested in the special matters referred to will find something in these pages which may attract on account of its novelty--and some other things, new at least in their application--_e.g._ the comparison of boulanger's theory with the narratives of captain r. burton and catlin. the frequent introduction and the length of the notes, must, i am aware, give to these pages a repellent aspect, but the necessity of bringing various points under comparison has compelled this arrangement; and i regret to say that the argument runs through the whole, and that almost as much matter requiring consideration will be found in the notes and appendices as in the text. i trust that these imperfections may not be so great as to estrange the few, among whom only i can hope to find much sympathy, who wish to see the true foundations of peace and order re-established in the world, and who may therefore to some extent be indulgent towards efforts which have for their aim and motive the attempt to erect barriers which would render the recurrence of the evils which have lately deluged mankind difficult, if not impossible. there are others whom the recent scenes of horror have inspired with a love of peace and order, or of whom it would be more true to say, that the horrors of the late war and revolution have deepened in them the sentiment of peace and order which they have always entertained, but who still do not desire these things on the conditions upon which alone they can be secured. from them i can only ask such passing examination as may be demanded for the conscientious rejection of the evidence i have collected, or for its adjustment with more accepted theories. there will remain for me much ground in common with all who retain their faith in the inspiration of holy writ, and who wish to see its authority sustained against the aggressive infidelity of the day; and even among those who reject the authority of divine revelation, there may be still some who are wearied in the arid wastes, and who would gladly retrace their steps to the green pastures and the abundant streams. among such i may perhaps expect to find friendly criticism. at the same time, i do not disguise from myself that, in its present mood, the world is much more anxious to be cut adrift from tradition than to be held to its moorings; and that it will impatiently learn that fresh facts have to be considered before its emancipation can be declared, or before it can be let loose without the evident certainty of shipwreck. although the exigencies of the argument have compelled research over a somewhat extended field of inquiry, the exploration has no pretensions to being exhaustive, but at most suggestive; not attempting to work the mine, or, except incidentally, to produce the ore, but only indicating the positions in which it is likely to be found. in the main position of the mythological chapters, that the heroes of mythological legend embody the reminiscences of the characters and incidents of the biblical narrative, i do nothing more than carry on a tradition, as the reader will see in my references to calmet, bryant, palmer, and others.[ ] i should add, that i limit the full application of de maistre's theory to the times preceding the coming of our lord. [ ] it has curiously happened that i have never seen the work which, after bryant, would probably have afforded the largest repertory of facts--g. stanley faber's "dissertation on the mysteries of the cabiri;" and it is only recently, since these pages were in print, that i have become acquainted with davies' "celtic researches" and "the mythology and rites of the british druids." the celtic traditions respecting their god hu, are so important from more than one point of view, that i cannot forbear making the following extracts from the latter author, which i trust the reader will refer back to and compare in chap. ix. with the babylonian hoa, at p. with the chinese yu, and at p. with the african hu. davies' "celtic researches," p. , says, "though hu gadarn primarily denoted the supreme being [compare chap. ix.], i think his actions have a secondary reference to the history of noah. the following particulars are told of him in the above-cited selection:--( .) his branching or elevated oxen [compare p. and chap. xi.] ... at the deluge, drew the destroyer out of the water, so that the lake burst forth no more [compare chap. iv.] ( .) he instructed the primitive race in the cultivation of the earth [compare p. ]. ( .) he first collected and disposed them into various tribes [compare p. ]. ( .) he first gave laws, traditions, &c., and adapted verse to memorials [compare p. ]. ( .) he first brought the cymry into britain and gaul [compare p. ], because he would not have them possess lands by war and contention, but of right and peace" [compare chaps. xiii. and xv.] it is true that these traditions come to us in ballads attributed to welsh bards of the th and th centuries a.d.; but, as the rev. mr davies said, "that such a superstition should have been fabricated by the bards in the middle ages of christianity, is a supposition utterly irreconcileable with probability." and i think the improbability will be widely extended if the readers will take the trouble, after perusal, to make the references as above. my attention was first drawn to the coincidences of mythology with scriptural history by the late colonel g. macdonell.[ ] colonel macdonell's coincidences were founded upon a peculiar theory of his own, and must necessarily have been exclusively upon the lines of hebrew derivation. there is nothing, however, in these pages drawn from that source. i may add, for the satisfaction of colonel macdonell's friends, that as colonel macdonell's mss. exist, and are in the possession of colonel i. j. macdonell, i have (except at p. , when quoting from boulanger,) expressly excluded the consideration of the influence of the hebrew upon general tradition, which, however, will be necessary for the full discussion of the question. [ ] i have appended a short biographical notice of colonel g. macdonell, which i venture to think may contain matter of public interest. whatever, therefore, colonel macdonell may have written will remain over and above in illustration of the tradition. but whether on the lines of hebrew or primeval tradition, these views will inevitably run counter to the mythological theories now in the ascendant. these views, indeed, have been so long relegated to darkness, and perhaps appropriately, on account of their opposition to the prevalent solar theories, "flouted like owls and bats" whenever they have ventured into the daylight, that it will be with something amounting to absolute astonishment that the learned will hear that there are people who still entertain them: "itaque ea nolui scribere, quæ nec indocti intelligere possent, nec docti legere curarent" (cic. acad. quæs., . i. § ). i can sincerely say, however, that although my theories place me in a position of antagonism to modern science, yet that i have written in no spirit of hostility to science or the cause of science. i have throughout excluded the geological argument, for the first and sufficient reason that i am not a geologist; and secondly, by the same right and title, that geologists, _e.g._ sir c. lyell, in his "antiquity of man," ignores the arguments and facts to which i have directed special attention. nevertheless, i find that competent witnesses have come to conclusions not materially different from those which have been arrived at, on the ground of history, within their own department of geology. i have more especially in my mind the following passage from a series of papers, "on some evidences of the antiquity of man," by the rev. a. weld, in the _month_ ( ), written with full knowledge and in a spirit of careful and fair appreciation of the evidence. he says:-- "these evidences, such as they are, are fully treated in the work of sir c. lyell, entitled 'antiquity of man,' which exhausted the whole question as it stood, when the last edition was published in the year . it is worthy of note that though the conclusion at which the geologist arrives is hesitating and suggestive, rather than decisive, and though nothing of importance, as far as we are aware, has been added to the geological aspect of the question since that time--except that the reality of the discovery of human remains has been verified, and many additional discoveries of a similar character have been made--_still the opinion_, which was _then new and startling, has gradually gained ground_, until we find writers assuming as a thing that needs no further proof, that the period of man's habitation on the earth is to be reckoned in tens of thousands of years."--_the month_ (may and june ), p. . among various works, bearing on matters contained in these pages, which have come to hand during the course of publication, i may mention-- "the mythology of the aryan nations," by the rev. g. w. cox, referred to in notes at pp. , , . the third edition of sir john lubbock's "pre-historic times." mr e. b. tylor's "primitive culture," referred to in notes at pp. , , . mr st george mivart's "genesis of species." mr f. seebohm on "international reform." sir h. s. maine's "village communities." the archbishop of westminster's paper, read before the royal institution, "on the dæmon of socrates." "orsini's life of the blessed virgin," translated by the very rev. dr husenbeth. "hints and facts on the origin of man," by the very rev. dr p. melia, , who says (p. ), "considering the great length of life of the first patriarchs, moses must have had every information through non-interrupted tradition. if we reflect that shem for many years saw methuselah, a contemporary of adam, and that shem himself lived to the time of abraham, ... that abraham died after the birth of jacob, and that jacob saw many who were alive when moses was born, we see that a few generations connect moses not only with noah, but also with adam." i quote this passage as it is important to place in the foreground of this inquiry the unassailable truth that (apart from revelation) the historical account of the origin of the human race, to which all others converge, is consistent with itself, and bears intrinsic evidence of credibility. an analogous argument with reference to christian tradition was sketched in a lecture by mr edward lucas, and published in , "on the first two centuries of christianity." with reference to other parts of these pages, much supplemental matter will be found in-- "historical illustrations of the old testament," by the rev. g. rawlinson, m.a., camden prof., where, at pp. , , will be found direct testimony to what i had conjectured from indirect evidence at pp. , --viz., that the polynesian islanders "have a clear and distinct tradition of a deluge, from which one family only, _eight in number_, was saved in a canoe." also, but from a different point of view, in "legends of old testament characters," by rev. s. baring gould, m.a. the articles in the _tablet_ "on arbitration instead of war," to which i have referred in chap. xiv. at p. , have recently been collected and reprinted by lord robert montagu, m.p. if i have exceeded in quotation, i must direct my readers, for the defence of this mode of composition, from the point of view of tradition, to a work which i trust some in this busy age still find leisure to read, mr kenelm digby's "mores catholici," i. . i must, moreover, add a passage from the general preface to the recent republication of mr disraeli's works, which i came upon too late to introduce into the body of this book, but which i feel sure the reader, even if he has met with it before, will not be reluctant to reperuse:-- "the sceptical effects of the discoveries of science, and the uneasy feeling that they cannot co-exist with our old religious convictions have their origin in the circumstance that the general body who have suddenly become conscious of these physical truths are not so well acquainted as is desirable with the past history of man. astonished by their unprepared emergence from ignorance to a certain degree of information, their amazed intelligence takes refuge in the theory of what is conveniently called progress, and every step in scientific discovery seems further to remove them from the path of primæval inspiration. but there is no fallacy so flagrant as to suppose that the modern ages have the peculiar privilege of scientific discovery, or that they are distinguished as the epochs of the most illustrious inventions. on the contrary, scientific invention has always gone on simultaneously with the revelation of spiritual truths; and more, the greatest discoveries are not those of modern ages. no one for a moment can pretend that printing is so great a discovery as writing, or algebra as language. what are the most brilliant of our chemical discoveries compared with the invention of fire and the metals? it is a vulgar belief that our astronomical knowledge dates only from the recent century, when it was rescued from the monks who imprisoned galileo; but hipparchus, who lived before our divine master, and who, among other sublime achievements, discovered the precession of the equinoxes, ranks with the newtons and the keplers; and copernicus, the modern father of our celestial science, avows himself, in his famous work, as only the champion of pythagoras, whose system he enforces and illustrates. even the most modish schemes of the day on the origin of things, which captivate as much by their novelty as their truth, may find their precursors in ancient sages; and after a careful analysis of the blended elements of imagination and induction which characterise the new theories, they will be found mainly to rest on the atom of epicurus and the monad of thales. scientific, like spiritual truth, has ever from the beginning been descending from heaven to man. he is a being who organically demands direct relations with his creator, and he would not have been so organised if his requirements could not be satisfied. we may analyse the sun and penetrate the stars; but man is conscious that he is made in god's own image, and in his perplexity he will ever appeal to our father which art in heaven." memoir of colonel george macdonell, c.b. the following notice appeared in the _times_, may , --"in our obituary column of saturday we announced the death of colonel george macdonell, c.b., at the advanced age of ninety. this officer, who was a cadet of the ancient and loyal scottish house of macdonell of glengarry, was the son of an officer who served under the flag, and who, as we have been told, was on the staff, of prince charles edward stuart at the battle of culloden, where he was severely wounded. his son, the colonel now deceased, was born in , or early in the following year; obtained his first commission in , and was nominated a companion of the bath in . he saw active service in the war in north america with the th foot, and received the gold medal for the action at châteaugay; and had he not accepted the retirement a few years since, he would have been, at his death, almost the senior officer in the army holding her majesty's commission. the late colonel macdonell, who adhered to the roman catholic religion professed by his ancestors, and for which they fought so gallantly under the stuart banners, married, in , the hon. laura arundell, sister of the lord arundell of wardour, but was left a widower in may ." his son, colonel i. j. macdonell, now commands the st highlanders. i take this opportunity of adding a few facts, not without interest, to the above brief summary of a not uneventful life, as they might otherwise pass unrecorded. in the sentiment of the gaelic saying--"curri mi clach er do cuirn" (wilson, "archæol. scot.," p. )--"i will add a stone to your cairn." colonel macdonell's father, as stated in the above account, was wounded at culloden in the thigh, but was able to crawl on all-fours, after the battle, eighteen miles, to a barn belonging to a member of the grant family. he there remained in concealment for six months, leaving nature to heal the wound; but the search in the neighbourhood in time becoming too hot, he had to decamp, and walked with a stick all the way to newcastle, where he was not greatly re-assured by meeting a soldier who had just been drummed out of his regiment as a catholic, with the word "papist" placarded on his back. he, however, escaped all dangers, and reached hull, and subsequently versailles or st germains, where he remained three years, or at least till the events following the peace of aix-la-chapelle dispersed the prince's adherents. he then returned to england under the act of indemnity, entered the royal army, and was present with general wolfe at the taking of quebec. if i remember rightly, he had the good fortune to take an aide-de-camp of montcalm's prisoner, with important dispatches. colonel macdonell's maternal uncle, major macdonald (keppoch), was taken prisoner at the battle of falkirk. he was said to have been the first man who drew blood in the war. by a curious revenue of fortune, he was carried back into the enemy's ranks by the horse of a trooper whom he had captured. he was executed at carlisle, and the circumstances of his execution supplied sir walter scott, i believe, with the incidents which he worked up into the narrative of macivor's execution in "waverley." his sword is in the possession of mr p. howard of corby castle, near carlisle. fortune, however, had in store another revenge; for the duke of cumberland being present, many years afterwards, at a ball at bath, by a most unhappy selection indicated as the person with whom he wished to dance a beautiful girl who turned out to be no other than the daughter of major macdonald (afterwards married to mr chichester of calverley) the circumstances of whose execution have just been referred to. she rose in deference to royalty, but replied, in a tone which utterly discomfited, and put his royal highness to flight--"no, i will never dance with the murderer of my father!" with these antecedents, it is needless to add that colonel g. macdonell was a warm admirer of the stuarts, and not unnaturally extended his sympathy and adhesion to the kindred cause of legitimacy in france; and the one event to which he always looked forward, and confidently predicted--the restoration of the monarchy in the person of henri v.--is now, if not imminent, at least "the more probable of possible events." there was, however, a belief which somewhat conflicted in his mind with the above anticipation--namely, his unshaken conviction that the dauphin did not die in the temple. he was frequently at holyrood when the palace was occupied by charles x., and he accompanied the duchess de berri to the place of embarkation for her unfortunate expedition to france. colonel macdonell also acted as the medium of communication between the french royalists and the english government; and on one important occasion conveyed intelligence to lord bathurst or lord sidmouth respecting the movements of the secret societies in spain in some hours before it reached them by the ordinary channel. part of the communication was made on information supplied by the abbé barruel; and in reply, lord sidmouth said--"well, i remember edmund burke telling me that he believed every word that barruel had written, and i fully accept the authority." colonel macdonell was under the impression that he was unwittingly and remotely the cause of the break up of the ministry of "all the talents." as this is an obscure point in history, it may be worth while to give the following facts. the impression produced by marengo and austerlitz had led to the army reform bill of , in which the points discussed were almost identical with those which lately excited the public mind. the disasters which accompanied our descent on egypt in , and the consequent evacuation of alexandria, created considerable discontent and re-opened the question, and as further reforms on minor points were contemplated, suggestions from officers in the army were invited. colonel macdonell (then only lieutenant), wrote to mr windham, the secretary at war, to point out that any broken attorney might create considerable embarrassment at any critical moment, seeing that, as the law then stood (an act of george i. had extended the obligation of taking the sacrament to privates), any soldier could obtain, if not his own, his comrade's discharge by pointing him out as a papist. the danger was recognised, and mr windham brought in a bill directed to meet the case, but its introduction revived the larger question of the repeal of the tests' acts and of the catholic claims; and the discussion eventuated in lord howick's bill, which was met by the king's refusal, and the consequent resignation of the ministry. this may explain the statement (mentioned in the obituary notice in the times of the marquis of lansdowne), that he (lord lansdowne) could never understand how the ministry came to be dissolved. "he had heard instances of men running their heads against a wall, but never of men building up a wall against which to run their heads."[ ] [ ] sir h. lytton bulwer, in his "life of lord palmerston," says, i. p. , "there has seldom happened in this country so sudden and unexpected a change of ministers as that which took place in march ." it has been mentioned that colonel macdonell entered the army when quite a boy; and there were few men, i fancy, living, when he died last year, who could boast, as he could, of having served in the duke of york's campaign in the last century, but i am not able to state in what regiment. he was for some time previously in lord darlington's regiment of fencibles. he was at one period in the th, and at another in the th regiment, in which latter, i think, he went out to the west indies and canada. it was in canada, however, that his principal services were rendered, which indeed were considerable, and have never been adequately acknowledged. when the americans invaded canada upon the declaration of war in , it is hardly necessary to remind the reader that almost all our available troops were engaged in the peninsula, and that canada was pretty well left to its own resources. under these circumstances it will be recognised as of some importance that colonel macdonell was able to raise a regiment among the macdonells of his clan who had settled there. but the conditions made with him were not fulfilled, and the command of the regiment, almost immediately after it was raised, was transferred to the command of a protestant and an orangeman, which caused a mutiny which was with difficulty suppressed. now, it must be borne in mind that the regiment was only raised through his personal influence with the clan, and through that of its pastor, bishop macdonell, and that the adhesion of the catholic macdonells went far to determine the attitude of the french canadians also. there were not more than regular troops in upper canada during the war.[ ] [ ] w. james, "military occurrences of late war," i. , says, regular troops; murray, "history of british america," i. , says, troops. before referring to the actions in which colonel macdonell was engaged, i will add the following particulars as to the highland settlement which colonel macdonell gave me. in , the submission of the highland chiefs to the house of hanover having been of some standing, and their adhesion being, moreover, cemented in a common sentiment of abhorrence of the french revolution, they were willingly induced to raise regiments among their clans. this was done by glengarry, macleod, and others. at the peace these regiments were disbanded, but finding that complications of various sorts had necessarily arisen during their absence respecting their lands and holdings at home, and, in point of fact, that they had no homes to return to, the greater part remained temporarily domiciled at glasgow, the place of their disbandment. i infer that they remained under the charge and direction of bishop macdonell, who had accompanied them in their campaigns as chaplain, and was the first catholic priest officially recognised in the capacity of regimental chaplain. at glasgow (previously only served as a flying mission), he hired a storehouse, which he opened as a chapel, but stealthily only, as two of the congregation were always posted as a guard at the entrance on sunday. he found only eighteen catholics at glasgow at that time, i.e., i suppose, previously to the disbandment of the highlanders. through bishop macdonell's influence with lord sidmouth--who, although a strong opponent of the catholic claims, always acted in his relations with him, he said, in the most honourable and straightforward way--the emigration of the highlanders to canada was shortly afterwards arranged. colonel macdonell was subsequently partially reinstated in his command of the glengarry regiment. the important services rendered by colonel macdonell in canada, to which i have alluded, were-- . the taking of ogdensburg at a critical moment, on his own responsibility, and contrary to orders, which had the effect of diverting the american attack from upper canada at a moment when it was entirely undefended; and, . bringing the regiment of french canadian militia, then temporarily under his command, from kingston, by a forced run down the rapids of the st lawrence without pilots (passing the point where lord amherst lost eighty men), in time enough (he arrived the day before, unknown to the americans) to support de saluberry at the decisive action at chateaugay. de saluberry indeed had only french canadians under his command, which, with the brought up by colonel macdonell, only made up a force of (with about indians), with which to check general hampton's advance with some (the americans stated the force at infantry and cavalry, james, i. ) in his advance on montreal. in point of fact, colonel macdonell must be considered, on any impartial review of the facts, to have won the day (_vide infra_), yet he was not even mentioned in sir g. prevost's dispatch. colonel macdonell received the companionship of the bath for the taking of ogdensburg, and the gold medal for his conduct in the action at chateaugay. i append the following accounts of the affairs at ogdensburg and chateaugay, adding a few particulars in correction and explanation--alison, "history of europe," xix. ( th ed.), says--"shortly after colonel m'donnell (macdonell), with two companies of the glengarry fencibles, and two of the th, converted a _feigned_ attack which he was ordered to make on fort ogdensburg into a real one. the assault was made under circumstances of the utmost difficulty; deep snow impeded the assailants at every step, and the american marksmen, from behind their defences, kept up a very heavy fire; but the gallantry of the british overcame every obstacle, and the fort was carried, with _eleven guns, all its stores_, and _two armed schooners_ in the harbour." the difficulties, as i have understood from colonel macdonell, were not so much from the impediments of the snow, as from the dangerous state of the st lawrence at the time, the ice literally waving under the tramp of his men as he passed them over (ten paces apart). the stroke of the axe, by which they judged, told it indeed to be only barely safe, and it had never been crossed by troops before at that point, as it was deemed insecure, being within three miles of the gallops rapids. (among the guns were some taken from general burgoyne.) a fuller account of the taking of ogdensburg may be read in mr w. james' "full and correct account of the military occurrences of the late war between great britain and the united states of america," vol. i. p. - : london, ; he adds, "previously to dismissing the affair at ogdensburg it may be right to mention that sir g. prevost's secretary, or some person who had the transcribing of major (colonel) macdonnell's (macdonell's) official letter, must have inserted by mistake the words 'in consequence of the commands of his excellency.' of this there needs no stronger proof than that major (colonel) macdonnell (macdonell) while he was in the heat of the battle, received a private note from sir g. dated from 'flint's inn at o'clock,' repeating his orders not to make the attack; and even in the first private letter which sir g. wrote to major macdonnell (colonel macdonell) after being informed of his success, he could not help qualifying his admiration of the exploit with a remark that the latter had _rather_ exceeded his instructions--(_note._--both of these letters the author has seen"), vol. i. . colonel macdonell's explanation to me of his taking this responsibility on himself was simply that he saw that the fate of the whole of upper canada depended upon it. colonel macdonell had received information that american troops were moving up in the direction of ogdensburg, and they, in fact, came up a week after it was taken, under general pike; but seeing the altered aspect of affairs, they moved off, and fell back upon sackett's harbour, anticipating a similar attack at that point. colonel macdonell always spoke with much emotion of the gallant conduct of a captain jenkins, a young officer under his command, who, although he had both arms shattered by two successive shots, struggled on at the head of his men until he swooned. he survived some years, but died of the overcharge of blood to the head consequent on the loss of his limbs. as ogdensburg was a frontier town on the american side of the st lawrence, sir g. prevost authorised payment for any plunder by the troops, but colonel macdonell received a certificate from the inhabitants that they had not lost a single shilling--which must be recorded to the credit of the glengarry highlanders under his command. as i have already said, although colonel macdonell commanded the larger force, and by an independent command, at the action of chateaugay, his name is not mentioned in sir g. prevost's dispatch, nor in alison, who apparently follows the official account (xix. , th ed.) in alison, de saluberry is called, by a clerical error, de salavary--such, after all, is fame! saith hyperion. although his troops, raw levies, broke, and colonel de saluberry was virtually a prisoner when colonel macdonell came up to the support, it was through no fault of his disposition of his men--(colonel macdonell always spoke of him as an excellent officer, who behaved on the occasion in the most noble and intrepid manner). the american troops at chateaugay are variously stated at to (alison says, " effective infantry and militia, and guns," xix. ). the british, french canadian militia, under de saluberry; under colonel macdonell, and some indians, without artillery. a full, but, colonel macdonell said, inaccurate account (from imperfect information) will be found in mr w. james' "military occurrences," above referred to. i extract the following passages, i. :--"the british advanced corps, stationed near the frontiers, was commanded by lieutenant-colonel de saluberry of the canadian fencibles, and consisted of the two flank companies of that corps and four companies of voltigeurs, and six flank companies of embodied militia and chateaugay chasseurs, placed under the immediate orders of lieutenant-colonel macdonell, late of the glengarrys, who so distinguished himself at ogdensburg. the whole of this force did not exceed rank and file. there were also at the post indians under captain lamotte." colonel macdonell's account differed substantially. it has been already mentioned that he had brought up his troops by a forced march the night before, and held them under a separate command. i conclude with the following passage as bearing out colonel macdonell's version:--"the americans, although they did not occupy one foot of the 'abatis,' nor lieutenant-colonel de saluberry retire one inch from the ground on which he had been standing, celebrated this partial retiring as a retreat.... by way of animating his little band when thus momentarily _pressed_" [colonel macdonell's version was, that although the troops were driven back, colonel de saluberry literally "refused to retire one inch himself," and virtually remained a prisoner until--] colonel de saluberry ordered the bugleman to sound "the advance. this was heard by lieutenant-colonel macdonell, who thinking the colonel was in want of support, caused his own bugles to answer, and immediately advanced with two ['six'] of his companies. he at the same time sent ten or twelve buglemen into the adjoining woods with orders to separate ['widely'], and blow with all their might. this little 'ruse de guerre' led the americans to believe that they had more thousands than hundreds to contend with, and deterred them from even attempting to penetrate the 'abatis.'" for the rest of the account i must refer my readers to mr w. james' "history," as above; though, if a complete and accurate account of an engagement which probably saved british canada were ever thought desirable, colonel macdonell's commentaries (ms.) on the above and the official accounts, would afford valuable supplementary information.[ ] [ ] the following corrections have been supplied to me by the hon. l. d.:--"lieut.-colonel george macdonell was born on the th august , at st johns, newfoundland, where his father, captain macdonell, was stationed. he was the second son of captain macdonell (who had been one of the body-guard of prince charles), by his wife, miss leslie of fetternear, aberdeenshire. george was rated on the navy by the admiral of the station, who was a personal friend of captain macdonell, and his name accordingly remained on the list for years, but he never joined. i believe he entered in the regiment raised by lord darlington, and afterwards served with the duke of york in the war in holland. he was, i know, at one time in the th infantry, for i remember sir greathed harris saying that he was always a well-remembered and honoured officer in that regiment. he ultimately had the post of inspecting field-officer in canada." tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. chapter i. _the law of nations._ the increasing number of essays, pamphlets, works, and reviews of works on speculative subjects, with which the literature of england at present teems, compels the conclusion that the public mind has been greatly unsettled or strangely transformed since the days when john bull was the plain matter-of-fact old gentleman that washington irving pleasantly described him. remembering the many sterling and noble qualities whimsically associated with this practical turn of mind, it will be felt by many to be a change for the worse. but if old english convictions, maxims, and ways of thought have lost their meaning; if in fine it is true that the mind of england has become unsettled, it says much for the practical good sense of englishmen that they should have overcome their natural repugnances, and should so earnestly turn to the discussion of these questions, not indeed with the true zest for speculation, but in the practical conviction that it is in this arena that the battle of the constitution must be fought. there is, as it has been truly observed,[ ] "an instinctive feeling that any speculation which affects this" (the speculation in question being the effect of the darwinian theory on conscience), "must also affect, sooner or later, the practical principles and conduct of men in their daily lives. this naturally comes much closer to us than any question as to the comparative nearness of our kinship to the gorilla or the orang can be expected to do. _no great modification of opinion takes place with respect to the moral faculties, which does not ultimately and in some degree modify the ethical practice and political working of the society in which it comes to prevail._" [ ] _pall mall gazette_, april , ; article, "mr darwin on conscience." there is perhaps no question which lies more at the root of political constitutions, and which must more directly determine the conduct of states in their relations to each other, than the question whether or not, or in what sense, there was such a thing as natural law, _i.e._ a law antecedent to the formation of individual political societies, and which is common to and binding on them all. it may be worth while, therefore, to examine whether a stricter discrimination may not be made between things which are sometimes confounded, viz.:--the law of nations and international law, natural law and the state of nature; and even if the attempt at discrimination should fail in exactitude, it may yet, by opening out fresh views, contribute light to minds of greater precision, who may thus be enabled to hit upon the exact truth. this view was partially exposed in an article which was inserted in the _tablet_, september , ,[ ] entitled "international law and the law of nations," and, all things considered, i do not think that i can better consult the interests of my readers, than by reproducing an extract from it here, as a convenient basis of operation from which to advance into a somewhat unexplored country:-- "it has been the fashion since bentham's[ ] time, to substitute the phrase 'international law' for the 'law of nations,' as if they were convertible terms. the substitution, however, covers a distinction sufficiently important. "the 'law of nations' is an obligation which binds the consciences of nations to respect the eternal principle of justice in their relations with each other. 'international law' is the system of rules, precedents, and maxims accumulated in recognition of the eternal law. but as men may build a theatre or a gambling-house upon the foundations constructed for a religious edifice, and upon a stone consecrated for an altar, so has it been possible for diplomacy to substitute a system of chicanery for the simple laws which were intended to facilitate the intercourse of nations, and with such effect as in a great number of cases to place international law in contradiction with the law of nations--as, for instance, when in a certain case the law of nations says that it is wrong to invade a neighbour's territory, international law is made to say that it is lawful to invade in such a case, because such-and-such monarchs in past history have done so. "practically the effect of the substitution is, that the sentiment of justice disappears, that wars which formerly were called unjust, are now called inevitable, so that good men, disheartened at the conflicting evidence of precedents, yield their sense of right and wrong, and defer to the adjudication of diplomatists. this is particularly satisfactory to the modern spirit which will admit nothing to be law which is superior to, and distinct from, that which the human intellect has determined to be law. "but the sense of right and wrong in good men is that which gives its whole efficacy to the law of nations. there is nothing else in the last resort, to restrain the ambition and passion of princes, but the reprobation of mankind--nothing but the fear of invading that "moral territory"[ ] which even bad men find it necessary to conquer, '_dans l'ame des peuples ses voisins_.' on the other hand, the whole mass of precedents to which diplomatists appeal, which are rarely carefully collated with those which legists have accumulated and digested, is nothing but a veil which thinly covers the supremacy of might and the right of force. "in fact, the conventional deference which is paid to them, is at best only the hypocritical homage which force is constrained to pay to justice before it strikes its blow. "international law, therefore, as _accumulated in the precedents of diplomatists_, is a parasitical growth upon that tree which has its roots in the hearts of nations, and which may be compared to one of those old oaks under which kings used to sit and administer justice. it was a dream of dodwell's that the 'law of nations was a divine revelation made to the family preserved in the ark.' in the grotesqueness and wildness of this theory we detect a true idea. the law of nations is an unwritten law, tradited in the memories of the people, or, so far as it is written, to be found in the works of writers on public law, like grotius, whose authorities, as sir j. mackintosh remarks, are in great part, and very properly, made up of the sayings of the poets and orators of the world, 'for they address themselves to the general feelings and sympathies of mankind.' it is in this that the scriptural saying about the people is so true--'but they will maintain the state of the world.' and it is a just observation, that 'the people are often wrong in their opinions, but in their sentiments rarely.' you may produce state papers and manifestoes, written with all the dexterity of talleyrand, and the lying tact of fouché, but you will not convince the people. you have your opportunity. the liberal press of europe, at this moment, may be said to be in possession of the whole field of political literature; nevertheless, nothing will prevent its being recorded in history,[ ] that victor emmanuel in seizing upon the patrimony of st peter was a robber, and his conquest an usurpation." [ ] this article, and perhaps four or five others on miscellaneous subjects, written within a few weeks of the above date, were my only contributions to the _tablet_, at that time owned and edited by my friend mr j. e. wallis, who, during some ten or twelve eventful years, continued to uphold the standard of tradition, with singular ability and at great personal sacrifice. [ ] "all that bentham wrote on this subject ("international law") is comprised within a comparatively small compass (works, vol. ii. - , iii. - , ix. - ). but it would be unpardonable to omit all mention of a science which he was the means of _revolutionising_, and which, previously to his taking it in hand, had _not even received a proper distinctive name_."--john hill burton, "benthamiana," p. . from bentham's point of view, "international law" is the proper distinctive name. [ ] montalembert, _correspondant_, aout, . [ ] c'est une des plus admirables choses de ce monde que jamais nul empire, et nul succès n'ont pu s'assujetir l'histoire et en imposer par elle à la posterité. des generations de rois issus du même sang se sont succédé pendant dix siècles au gouvernement du même peuple, et malgré cette perpetuité d'intérêt et de commandement, ils n'ont pu couvrir aux yeux du monde les fautes de leurs pères et maintenir sur leur tombe le faux éclat de leur vie.--_lacordaire_: vid. _correspondant_, nov. . i have observed that international law is the more appropriate term from bentham's point of view, and as bentham is the most redoubtable opponent of natural right and the law of nations, i will quote him at some length:-- "another man says that there is an eternal and immutable rule of right, and that that rule of right dictates so-and-so. and then he begins giving you his sentiments upon anything that comes uppermost; and these sentiments (you are to take it for granted) are so many branches of the eternal rule of right.... a great multitude of people are continually talking of the law of nature; and they go on giving you their sentiments about what is right and what is wrong, and these sentiments, you are to understand, are so many chapters and sections of the law of nature. instead of the phrase, law of nature, you have sometimes law of reason, right reason, natural justice, natural equity, good order. any of them will do equally well. this latter is most used in politics. the three last are much more tolerable than the others, because they do not very explicitly claim to be anything more than phrases. they insist, but feebly, upon the being looked upon as so many positive standards of themselves, and seem content to be taken, upon occasion, for phrases expressive of the conformity of the thing in question to the proper standard, whatever that may be. on most occasions, however, it will be better to say utility--utility is clearer, as referring more especially to pain and pleasure." in truth, although mr bentham indulges a pleasant ridicule, yet the ridicule and the thing ridiculed being eliminated, the fact that there is a belief in a law of nature remains untouched. it is probable, therefore, that appeals will be frequent to what is believed to be "the eternal and immutable rule of right," "to the law of nature," &c., _i.e._ each and every individual, all mankind distributively, so appeal, because there is a deep conviction among mankind, severally and collectively, that there is this eternal and immutable rule of right, blurred and obscured though it may be, or concealed behind a cloud of human passion and error: and most men, moreover, will have an instinct which will tell them when an individual is substituting his own ideas for the eternal and immutable law,--as, for instance, when at the conclusion of the sentence quoted, mr bentham seeks to substitute his own peculiar crochet, as embodied in the word "utility" (which may be used indifferently in the sense of the absolute or relative, the supernatural or the natural, the immediate or the remote utility), as synonymous with "natural justice," "natural equity," and "good order." so, again, when mr bentham comes to the discussion of "international law," after pointing out, very properly, that whereas internal laws have always a super-ordinate authority to enforce them, "that when nations fall into disputes there is no such super-ordinate impartial authority to bind them to conformity with any fixed rules," mr bentham goes on to say, "though there is no distinct official authority capable of enforcing right principles of international law, there is a power bearing with more or less influence on the conduct of all nations, as of all individuals, however transcendently potent they may be, this is the power of public opinion." public opinion! not then of public opinion threatening coercion, for in that case we should have "a super-ordinate impartial authority binding to conformity with fixed rules," but public opinion as a moral expression. if, however, you take from it the expression of right and wrong, of natural justice, and of the eternal and immutable law; if its expression is not reprobation, and, so to speak, a fore-judgment of the retribution of the most high, but only dissatisfaction or the mere pronouncement of the inutility of the action, whatever it may be, what even with benthamites can be its efficacy and worth? the vanquished say to their conqueror, the multitudes to their oppressor, this oppression is not according to utility. utility! he replies, useful to whom? to you! fancy the look of prince bismarck as he would reply to such an address. what are men if you take away the notion of right and wrong but "the flies of a summer?" how different was the expression of napoleon after his ill-usage of pius vii., "j'ai frissonè les nations." napoleon had a conscience,[ ] and in his moments of calm reflection felt in its full force the reprobation of mankind. [ ] _vide_ "sentiment de napoleon i. sur le christianisme," d'apres des temoignages recueillis par feu le chevalier de beauterne. nouvelle edition, par m. ----; bray, paris, . when bentham, still speaking of public opinion, adds:-- "the power in question has, it is true, various degrees of influence. the strong are better able to put it at defiance than the weak. countries which, being the most populous, are likely also to be the strongest, carry a certain support of public opinion with all their acts _whatever they may be_. but still it is the only power which can be moved to good purposes in this case; and, however high some may appear to be above it, there are in reality none who are not more or less subject to its influence." here bentham is again in imagination gathering men together like the flies of a summer,--the force of their opinion depending on their numbers. but what, again, is the force of all this buzzing if it is the mere expression of "pleasure," or "pain," of satisfaction or dissatisfaction in the masses? conquerors may not always be relentless, they may at times exhibit some sympathy with their fellow men; but as a rule they are so dominated by some one idea or passion, or at best are so absorbed in the interests of their own people, as to be deaf to such appeals. prince bismarck's sentiments towards france during the late war are pretty well known; but it is said that after the conflict was over, and when france was in the throes of its terrible internecine conflict, he was asked, "what is your excellency's opinion of the present state of france?" he replied, "das ist mit ganz wurst," which is equivalent to "i don't care two straws about it."[ ] how are men of this stamp to be affected by any exclamations of pleasure or pain? if on the contrary it is the voice of reprobation which they hear, and if in their case the saying "vox populi vox dei" is felt to have its full application, there is then a public opinion expressed which is calculated to strike the conscience and inspire terror, and that is quite another matter. [ ] _neue freie presse_ of vienna. _pall mall gazette_, may , . de tocqueville, from his own point of view, puts the argument in favour of natural justice very forcibly, and in a certain construction would express the identical truth for which i contend. "i hold it to be an impious and an execrable maxim that, politically speaking, a people has a right to do whatever it pleases; and yet i have asserted that all authority originates in the will of the majority. am i, then, in contradiction with myself? a general law which bears the name of justice has been made and sanctioned, not only by a majority of this or that people, but by a majority of mankind. the rights of every people are consequently confined within the limits of what is just. a nation may be considered in the light of a jury which is empowered to represent society at large, and to apply the great general law of justice. ought such a jury, which represents society, to have more power than the society in which the laws it applies originate."--_m. de tocqueville's "democracy in america_," ii. . although m. de tocqueville's view does not go to the full length of the argument, still, regarded in this light, the voice of the majority of mankind, or of any large masses of mankind, has a very different significance from what it bears in the writings of bentham. let us now consider the doctrines of bentham in their more recent exposition. the _pall mall gazette_, oct. , , says:-- "laws have been described as definitions of pre-existing rights, relations between man and man, reflections of divine ordinances, anything but what they really are,--forms of organised constraint. it says little for the assumed clear-headedness of englishmen, that they have very generally preferred the ornate jargon of hooker, to the accurate and intelligible account of law and government which forms the basis of bentham's juridical system." it says much, however, for their strong political sense and sagacity. if this is the true and only description of law, it is tantamount to saying that law is force and force is law; in other words, that the commands of a legitimate government need not be regarded when it is weak, but that the enactments of power must always be obeyed, however it is acquired, and whether its decrees are in accordance with right or contrary to justice. it is a ready justification for tyranny, equally sanctioning the "lettres de cachet" of the ancient regime, and the proscriptions of the convention, equally at hand for the national assembly at versailles, or for the commune at paris. but however much it may be disguised, it is the only alternative definition of law, when once you say that law is not of divine ordinance and tradition. if no regard is to be had to the definition of right, but the term law is to be applied to any adequate act of repression, there is in truth nothing but force. yet why should force adequate to its purpose seek to cloak itself in the forms of law? i suppose the question must have been put and answered before; but the answer can only be because law is felt to import a totally different set of ideas from force. it is necessary, more especially now that the utilitarian theory is dominant, to enter a protest according to the turn the argument may take, but in the end nothing more can be said than was said by cicero in the century before our lord:-- "est enim unum jus, quo devincta est hominum societas, et quod lex constituit una; quæ lex est recta ratio imperandi atque prohibendi: quam qui ignorat is est injustus, sive est illa scripta uspiam, sive nusquam. quod si justitia est obtemperatio scriptis legibus institutisque populorum, et si, ut iidem dicunt utilitate omnia metienda sunt, negliget leges, easque perrumpit, si poterit, is, qui sibi eam rem fructuosam putabit fore. ita fit, ut nulla sit omnino justitia; si neque naturâ est, eaque propter utilitatem constituitur, utilitate alia convellitur."--_de legibus_, i. . it is only upon this construction that the law of nations can be said to exist, as "there is no superordinate authority to enforce it." it is accordingly asserted that the law of nations is not really law. but is not this only when it is regarded from the point of view of "organised constraint?"[ ] if it is regarded as a divine ordinance, or even as under the divine sanction, then it is law in a much higher degree than simple internal or municipal law, for it more immediately and directly depends upon this sanction; and hence nations may more confidently appeal to heaven for the redress of wrong _here below_ than individuals--seeing that, as bossuet somewhere says, god rewards and chastises nations in this world, since it is not according to his divine dispensation to reward them corporately in the next. [ ] "utiles esse autem opiniones has quis neget, quum intelligat quam multa firmentur jure jurando, quantæ salutis sint f[oe]derum religiones? quam multos divini supplicii metus a scelere revocaverit? quamque sancta sit societas civium inter ipsos diis immortalibus interpositis tum judicibus tum testibus?"--cicero, _de legibus_, ii. . more recently, however, the extraordinary successes and subversions which we have witnessed during this last year, have brought the _pall mall gazette_ face to face with problems pressing for immediate and anxious settlement; and in a series of articles it has discussed the question of the law of nations with much depth and earnestness. i there observe phrases which i can hardly distinguish from those i have just employed. combating mr mill's view, the writer says:-- "nobody knows better than he that international law is not really law, and why it is not law; but he seems to have jumped to the conclusion that it is therefore the same thing as morality.... there cannot, in truth, be any closer analogy than that which we drew the other day between the law of nations and the law of honour, and between public war and private duelling." [this is upon an assumption that there is nothing "essentially immoral in the code of honour," as "to a great extent it coincided with morality."] "but it differed from simple morality in that its precepts were enforced, not by general disapprobation, but by a challenge to the offender by anybody who supposed himself to be aggrieved by the offence. the possible result always was, that the champion of the law might himself be shot, and this was the weakness of the system. but this is exactly the weakness of international law, and the _original idea_ at the _basis_ both of _public war_ and of private duelling was precisely the same,--_that god almighty somehow interposed_ in favour of the combatant _who had the juster cause_. there is clear historical evidence that the feuds which became duels were supposed to be fought out under divine supervision, _just as battles_ were believed to be decided by the god of battles." i believe that if history could be re-written from this point of view that many startling revelations would be brought to light. it is with reluctance that i turn from the points upon which i approach to agreement with the writer, to those upon which we fundamentally differ. and here i must remark, that "the accurate and intelligible account of law and government which forms the basis of bentham's juridical system"[ ] (_supra_, p. ), is not distinguishable from, and in any case ultimately depends upon, his theory of utility as a foundation, or, as his later disciples say, a "standard" of morals. such a standard is the negation of all morality; and if it ever came to stand alone every notion of morals would be obliterated, because, being open to every interpretation, and incapable of supplying any definite rule itself, it would abrogate every other, and under a plausible form abandon mankind to its lusts and passions. [ ] "from _utility_, then, we may denominate a principle that may serve to preside over and govern, as it were, such arrangements as shall be made of the several institutions, or combinations of institutions, that compose the matter of this science." bentham's "fragment on government," xliii., and at p. , the principle of utility is declared "all-sufficient," ... that "principle which furnishes us with that reason, which alone depends not upon any higher reason, but which is itself the _sole and all-sufficient reason_ for _every point_ of practice whatsoever." in the _pall mall gazette_, april , , an article entitled "mr darwin on conscience," discusses benthamism with reference to darwinism. there is a fitness in this which does not immediately appear. the writer says:-- "what is called the question of the moral sense is really two: how the moral faculty is acquired, and how it is regulated. why do we obey conscience or feel pain in disobeying it? and why does conscience prescribe _one kind_ of actions and condemn another kind? to put it more technically, there is the question of the subjective existence of conscience, and there is the question of its objective prescriptions." i will avail myself of this distinction, and, setting aside the questions referring to the "subjective existence of conscience," i will ask attention only to "its objective prescriptions." assuming, then, the operations of conscience in the individual man, there will necessarily also have been in the course of history some outward expression of this inward feeling in maxims, precepts, and laws, if not also reminiscences of primeval revelations and divine commands. it will be true, therefore, to say, without touching the deeper question of the foundation of morals, that there has been a tradition of morals which cannot but have had its influence in all ages upon the "social feelings" in which, according to the _pall mall gazette_, "it will always be necessary to lay the basis of conscience." now is this tradition of morals identical with utilitarian precept? if the tradition of morals is identical with "the greatest happiness principle," then that principle was no discovery of bentham's,[ ] neither can benthamism be regarded as "the new application of an old principle." bentham in that case simply informed mankind that they had been talking prose all their lives without knowing it! benthamism, however, in point of fact, is felt as a new principle precisely in so far as it discards the old morality. the question which i ask is, how does it account for these old notions of morality obtaining among mankind? how is it that mankind has so long and so persistently, both in their notion of what was good and their sense of what was evil, departed from the line of their true interests, as disclosed in the utilitarian philosophy? if the history of man is what the scriptures tell us it was, the manner in which this has come about is sufficiently explained; and there is no mystery as to the notion of sin, the necessity of expiation, the restraints and limitations of natural desires, the excellence of contemplation, and the obligation of sacrifices and prayers. now, if the history of mankind is not to be invoked in explanation, it is difficult to see how these notions should not conflict with any theory and plan of life based on a principle of utility.[ ] it is not unnatural, therefore, that the utilitarians should turn to darwinism and other such kindred systems for the solution of their difficulties. [ ] bentham speaks of his enunciation of "the greatest happiness principle" in the following terms:--"throughout the whole horizon of morals and of politics, the consequences were glorious and vast. it might be said without danger of exaggeration, that they who sat in darkness had seen a great light." with reference to this lord macaulay says, "we blamed the utilitarians for claiming the credit of a discovery, when they had merely stolen that morality (the morality of the gospel) and spoiled it in the stealing. they have taken the precept of christ _and left the motive_, and they demand the praise of a most wonderful and beneficial invention, when all they have done has been to make a most useful maxim useless _by separating it from its sanction. on religious principles_ it is true that every individual will best promote his own happiness by promoting the happiness of others. _but if religious considerations be left out of the question it is not true._ if we do not reason on the supposition of a future state, where is the motive? if we do reason on that supposition, where is the discovery?"--_vide lord macaulay's essays on "westminster reviewer's defence of mill," and "the utilitarian theory of government" in lord macaulay's "miscellaneous writings._" [ ] there was a way in which the argument was formerly stated by utilitarians which was much more plausible, but which i observe is now seldom if ever resorted to by the modern exponents of this theory. the _pall mall gazette_, april , , says: "the now prevailing doctrine" that there is no absolute standard of right and wrong, but "that the right and wrong of an action or a motive depend upon the influence of the action, or the motive upon the general good." the argument to which i refer is thus stated by mr w. o. manning in his "commentaries on the law of nations," :--"everything around us proves that god designed the happiness of his creatures. it is the will of god that man should be happy. to ascertain the will of god regarding any action, we have, therefore, to consider the tendency of that action to promote or diminish human happiness," p. . it is perfectly true that man was created by god for happiness, and that ultimate happiness, if he does not forfeit it, is the end to which he is still destined. it is moreover true that even in this world he may enjoy a conditional and comparative happiness. how it is that this happiness cannot be complete and perfect here below is precisely the secret which tradition reveals to him. it is important, from the point of view of happiness, both for individuals and nations, that the truth of this revelation should be ascertained, and that the conditions and limitations within which happiness is possible should be known, otherwise life will be consumed in chimerical pursuits of the unattainable, and in the case of nations will be certain to end, at some time or another, in catastrophes such as we have recently witnessed in paris. in an enlarged sense it is therefore true to say that the divine will has regard to utility; but the view has this implied condition, that what we regard as utility should in the first place be conformable to what is directly or indirectly known to be the divine precept and command; and, on the other hand, if no advertence is made to revelation or the tradition of the human race, what is called utility, however large and disinterested the speculation may be, it can never be more than the view of an individual or of a section of mankind, which it is highly probable that other individuals and sections of mankind, looking at the same facts, from a different point of view, will see reason to contradict. the _pall mall gazette_, april , , says:-- "between mr darwin and utilitarians, as utilitarians, there is no such quarrel as he would appear to suppose. the narrowest utilitarian could say little more than mr darwin says (ii. ):--'as all men desire their own happiness, praise or blame is bestowed on actions and motives according as they tend to this end; and as happiness is an essential part of the general good, the greatest happiness principle indirectly serves as a nearly safe standard of right and wrong.'" now, there is nothing in this reiteration of benthamism which has not been thrice refuted by lord macaulay in the essays above referred to. i append an extract more exactly to the point.[ ] [ ] if "the magnificent principle" is thus stated, "mankind ought to pursue their greatest happiness," it must be borne in mind that there are persons whose interests are opposed to the greatest happiness of mankind. lord macaulay's opponent replies, "ought is not predicable of such persons; for the word ought has no meaning unless it be used in reference to some interest." lord macaulay replied, "that interest was synonymous with greatest happiness; and that, therefore, if the word _ought_ has no meaning unless used with reference to interest, then, to say that mankind ought to pursue their greatest happiness, is simply to say that the greatest happiness is the greatest happiness; that every individual pursues his own happiness; that either what he thinks his happiness must coincide with the greatest happiness of society or not; that if what he thinks his happiness coincides with the greatest happiness of society, he will attempt to promote the greatest happiness of society whether he ever heard of the "greatest happiness principle" or not; and that, by the admission of the westminster reviewer, if _his_ happiness _is inconsistent with_ the greatest happiness of society, there is no reason why he should promote the greatest happiness of society. now, that there are individuals who think _that_ for their happiness which is not for the greatest happiness of society, is evident.... the question is not whether men have _some_ motives for promoting the greatest happiness, but whether the _stronger_ motives be those which impel them to promote the greatest happiness."--_lord macaulay's "miscellaneous writings," utilitarian theory of government_, pp. - . i refer to it because it will be interesting to see how the argument looks in its application to darwinism. it will be seen that if the conditions of unlimited enjoyment anywhere existed, lord macaulay's strictures would lose something of their force. if, indeed, there was superabundance and superfluity of everything for all in this life, then anything which conduces to the satisfaction of the individual would add to, or at least would not detract from, the sum of happiness of all mankind. but unless you can show this--if even the reverse of this is the truth--then "the greatest happiness" will be in proportion to the self-abnegation of those who possess more, or have the greatest faculties or facilities of producing more. now, if there is one view more prominent than another in mr darwin's work, it is embodied in the phrase to which he has given a new sense and significance, "the struggle for existence." in the midst of this struggle for existence, what is there in the greatest happiness principle to bind the individual to abnegation? why should he postpone his certain and immediate gratification to the remote advantage of others, or of distant and contingent advantage to himself? if, on the other hand, he regards the transitoriness of the enjoyment, and balances it against the fixity and eternity of the consequences, the argument takes altogether different proportions, and the temptation to enjoyment is inversely to the intensity of the struggle for existence. i will take another test of benthamism by darwinism, which will more exactly bring out the argument for which i contend. we have a traditional horror of infanticide which revolts all our best feelings and shocks our principles. but if mr darwin has demonstrated this struggle for existence existing from all time; if also we are disembarrassed from all advertence to another world; if, further, mr malthus, before mr darwin, has shown reason to believe that over-population is the cause of half the evils of this life, what is there in benthamite principles which should prevent our sacrificing these unconscious innocents to the greatest happiness of the greatest number? nothing, except the horror we should excite among mankind still imbued with the old superstitions! a person who did not hold to mr malthus' views might demur; but a malthusian, who was also a disciple of mr bentham, could only hold back because his feelings were better than his principles. a disciple of mr darwin's would probably stand aloof, and would merely see in our notions an artificial interference with the working of his theory, preventing the struggle for existence going on according to natural laws. this seems to me to be almost said in the same article from the _pall mall gazette_, from which i have quoted. mr darwin, in his "origin of species" (p. ), has pointed out that "we ought to admire the savage instinct which leads the queen-bee to destroy her young daughters as soon as born, because this is for the good of the community." and in his new book he says, firmly and unmistakably (i. ), that "if men were reared under precisely the same conditions as hive-bees, there can hardly be a doubt that our unmarried females would, like the worker-bees, think it a sacred duty to kill their brothers, and mothers would strive to kill their fertile daughters, and no one would think of interfering." the _pall mall_ continues-- "if, from one point of view, this is apt to shock a _timorous_ and _unreflecting_ mind, by asserting that the most cherished of our affections might have been, under _certain_ circumstances, a vicious piece of self-indulgence, and its place in the scale of morality taken by what is _now_ the most atrocious kind of crime; nevertheless, from another point of view, such an assertion is as reassuring as the most absolute of moralists could desire, for it is tantamount to saying that the foundations of morality, the distinctions of right and wrong, are deeply laid in the very conditions of social existence; that there is, in the face of these conditions, a positive and definite difference between the moral and the immoral, the virtuous and the vicious, the right and the wrong, in the actions of individuals partaking of that social existence." this is very well. it is so _now_, because of the traditional sentiments and principles which still retain their force--but how long will it continue? i invite attention to the following passage from mr hepworth dixon's "new america" (vol. i. p. , th edition), which i must say struck me very forcibly when i read it. he narrates a conversation which he had with brigham young on the subject of incest:--"speaking for himself, not for the church, he (brigham young) said he saw _none at all_ (_i.e._ no objection at all). he added, however, that he would not do it himself,--'my prejudices prevent me.'" upon which mr hepworth dixon observes-- "this _remnant_ of an old feeling brought from the gentile world, _and this alone_, would seem to prevent the saints (mormons) from rushing into the higher forms of incest. how long will these gentile sentiments remain in force? 'you will find here,' said elder stenhouse to me, talking on another subject, 'polygamists of the third generation. when these boys and girls grow up and marry, you will have in these valleys the _true feeling_ of patriarchal life. the _old world is about us yet_, and we are always thinking of what people may say in the scottish hills and the midland shires.'" here, and in the previous extract, we seem to catch glimpses of what the morality of the future is likely to be, at any rate in such matters as infanticide and incest, if old notions are to be discarded, and men are left, in each generation, to no higher rule than their own individual calculation as to pleasure and pain, or to the prevailing sense or determination of the community as to what the conditions of utility may permit. the nineteenth century is now verging on its decline, and of it, too, may we say that it has been better than its principles. yet, in spite of its philanthropy, and its aspirations for good, the destructive principles which it has nursed are rapidly gaining on its instincts: and if we may not truly at this moment paint its glories, as they have been depicted, i think by alexandre dumas, as "the livery of heroism, turned up with assassination and incest," is the time very remote when the description will apply? chapter ii. _the law of nature._ but underlying the question of the law of nations, and determining it, is the question whether or not there is a law of nature--a rule of right and wrong, independent of, and anterior to, positive legislative or international enactment. to prevent misconception, however, as to the scope of the inquiry, it is as well that i should state that i am only regarding the law of nature as the law of conscience (by which the gentiles "were a law unto themselves," rom. ii. ), in so far as it has manifested itself in laws and maxims; and the question i am here concerned with is, whether in any sense which history can take cognizance of, there was a rule of right and wrong previous to legislative enactment? at the first glance, the question would seem sufficiently disposed of by saying that men never were in a state of nature; which is true in this sense, that mankind never formed a multitude of isolated individuals, or a promiscuous herd of men and women. a totally different solution supposes a state of nature; but which, whether it depicts it as a golden age or an age of barbarism, still contemplates mankind in this state as a mere congeries of individuals, without law, or else without the necessity of law--in either case an aggregate of isolated individuals, eventually to be brought into the state of civil society by a social compact. now my intention is not to combat this view--which at the present moment may be considered to be exploded--but to account for it. i think that i shall do something towards clearing up this mystery by pointing out that this latter solution, although in great vogue with the publicists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, is traced beyond them to the classical times, and was derived by them through the tradition of the roman law from paganism. a theory of the lawyers, and a theory of the philosophers, concreted with a true but distorted fact in tradition in order to produce this belief, viz., that society was founded by a contract among men who were originally equal.[ ] [ ] it will be seen, later on, in what this view differs from sir henry maine's. i shall in a subsequent chapter state to what extent i believe it to be true that society was founded upon a contract, and also the way in which this impression was confirmed, from the actual circumstances of the formation of the early communities of greece and italy; and i shall then examine the true tradition, such as i believe it to be, of a state of nature associated with the reminiscence of a golden age, as contrasted with the distinct yet parallel tradition of a state of nature identified with a state of barbarism (_vide_ ch. vii. and ch. xiii.) this latter tradition i believe to have been a recollection of that period of temporary privation after the flood, when mankind clung to the caverns and the mountains (_vide_ p. ), until, incited by the example of noah, they were brought into the plains, and instructed in the arts of husbandry by the patriarch; and the notion of the primitive equality[ ] of condition i believe to have originated in the bacchanalian traditions of the same patriarch.[ ] [ ] in all the diluvian commemorative festivals, to which i shall draw attention (ch. xi.), there is one day set apart for the commemoration of this primitive equality, accompanied with bacchanalian festivities and ceremonials. [ ] sir h. maine ("ancient law," p. ) says, "like all other deductions from the hypothesis of a law natural, and like the belief itself in a law of nature, it was languidly assented to, until it passed out of the possession of the lawyers into that of the literary men of the eighteenth century, and the public which sat at their feet. with them it became the most distinct tenet of their creed, and was even regarded as the summary of all the others." if we start with a belief in the primitive equality of conditions, the only way out of the mesh is apparently by a theory of a compact. "from the roman law downwards," says sir g. c. lewis, "there has been a strong tendency among jurists to deduce recognised rights and obligations from a supposed, but non-existing contract. when an express contract exists, the legal rights and duties which it creates are in general distinct and well-defined. hence, in cases where it is wished that similar legal consequences should be drawn, which come within the spirit of the rules applicable to a contract, though they do not themselves involve any contract, the lawyer cuts the knot by saying that a contract is presumed, that there is a contract by intendment of law, that there are certain rights and obligations "_quasi ex contractu_." thus the roman law held that a guardian was bound to his ward by a _quasi_ contract."--_sir g. c. lewis, "on the methods of observation, &c., in politics_," i. ; "_on the social compact_," pp. - . it is not difficult to see how such a fiction of the law would tend to give shape and system to the vague tradition as to the fact among the populace. the way in which the philosopher came to his conclusion was somewhat more complex. it will have been seen that the notion of the state of nature and the social compact was, among the ancients, in the main, a figment of the imagination, and not a tradition. but there was also a tradition of a law of nature which did not at all correspond to a state of license, of equality, and of barbarism, such as the state of nature was conceived to be. it was, on the contrary, a law of decorum and restraint. what, then, the roman probably meant by the law of nature was a reminiscence of a primitive revelation, or a tradition of the maxims of right and wrong by which men were guided in their relations to one another, when fresh from the hand of god--"_a diis recentes_"--when family life still subsisted, and before men had settled down into states and communities. it was not a law of nature as nature then was, but an aspiration after a lost rule of life, as after a higher standard, and an attempt to trace it back, through the corruption of mankind. dim and uncertain as these notions were, they were not without their influence. but their ideas as to the cosmogony were more shadowy still. when, then, in reasoning from a law of nature to a state of nature, mankind discovered that they knew or remembered nothing of their origin, or of the history of the human race, except indirectly through legendary lore, they then had recourse to the philosophers. these latter then did what philosophers incline to do in such cases of difficulty. they regarded the existing state of things, and finding it to be artificial, they, by a process of abstraction, resolved it into its elements, and, having thus reduced society into an assemblage of individuals, substituted their last analysis for the commencement of all things. in this analysis they found men, what historically and in fact they had never been, alike free, equal, and independent. the theory of the social compact among men individually free and equal was in the main a fiction, started _à posteriori_ to account for relations otherwise obscure, or, as sir henry maine explains, to facilitate modifications which were felt to be desirable; and we cannot be astonished that paganism should take this view, unless we are prepared to believe that the traditions truly embodying the history of the world were more direct, vivid, and potential than i suppose them to have been. it is at least remarkable, that in proportion as men lose their faith, they fall back, as if by some necessary law, upon some theory which directly or indirectly contemplates mankind as a collection of atoms; and if ever society should lose again the history of its origin, as would happen if ever infidelity were to gain complete ascendancy, it would return by the same processes to the same conclusion. but however sceptical individual minds may become, or however general may be the disposition to reject or ignore the scriptural narrative, the general framework of its statements is now too firmly embedded in the belief of mankind to be easily overthrown. the notion of a social compact, in more recent times, obtained a certain credence[ ] so long as the discussion was confined to hobbes, locke, and their disciples. and it must be borne in mind that this is a very taking theory, a ready and convenient starting point, and conformable to much that is true in history and politics. but it is long since exploded; and even the fervid advocacy of rousseau, in an age peculiarly predisposed for its reception, could not secure for it even temporary recognition among mankind; and why? because, whenever the discussion cools, men will inevitably ask each other the question, if such a compact took place, where shall we locate it consistently with the evidence recorded in genesis? remove the evidence in genesis, and such a theory becomes at once a tenable and plausible conjecture. [ ] "the earlier advocates of the doctrine of the social compact maintained it on the ground of its _actual existence_. they asserted that this account of the origin of political societies was _historically true_. thus locke, &c."--_sir g. c. lewis, "meth. of reasoning in pol._" i. p. . as i shall have occasion, later on, to come into collision with sir henry maine upon some points, i have the greater satisfaction here in invoking his testimony. this acute and learned writer ("ancient law," p. ) regrets that the voltairean prejudices of the last century prevented reference "to the only primitive records worth studying--the early history of the jews[ ].... one of the few characteristics which the school of rousseau had in common with the school of voltaire was an utter disdain of all religious antiquities, and more than all of those of the hebrew race. it is well known that it was a point of honour with the reasoners of that day to assume, not merely that the institutions called after moses were not divinely dictated, ... but that they and the entire pentateuch were a gratuitous forgery executed after the return from the captivity. debarred, therefore, from one chief security against speculative delusion, the philosophers of france, in their eagerness to escape from what they deemed a superstition of the priests, flung themselves headlong into a superstition of the lawyers." [ ] "the only reliable materials which we possess, besides the pentateuch, for the history of the period which it embraces, consist of some fragments of berosus and manetho, an epitome of the early egyptian history of the latter, a certain number of egyptian and babylonian inscriptions, and two or three valuable papyri."--_rawlinson, bampton lectures._ oxford, , ii. . chapter iii. _primitive life._ the scriptural narrative seems to establish:--( .) that human society did not commence with the fortuitous concurrence of individuals, but that, though originating with a single pair, for the purposes of practical inquiry it commences with a group of families--the family of noah and his sons, together with their families, and whose dispersion in other families is subsequently recorded. ( .) that men were not primitively in a state of savagery, barbarism, and ignorance of civil life; but that, on the contrary, it is presumable that noah and his family brought with them out of the ark the traditions and experiences of two thousand years, and, not to speak of special revelations, the arts of civil life and acquaintance with cities. ( .) that, although everything in the early state of mankind would have led to dispersion, and although there is mention of one great and complete dispersion, yet this dispersion of mankind was a dispersion of families and not of individuals. in all our speculations, therefore, as to society and government, it is the family and not the individual whom we must regard as the elementary constituent. moreover, so long as family government sufficed, there was nothing but the family. the state would have existed only in germ (_vide infra_, p. ), and would have remained thus inchoate even during that subsequent period when families were affiliated in tribal connection, though not yet coalesced into tribal union. it is my impression, that the period during which family government sufficed, continued much longer than is generally supposed; for, until the world became peopled and crowded, everything led to dispersion and the continuance of the pastoral state of life. from the necessities of pastoral life, mankind in early times could not have been gregarious--herds would have become intermixed, keep would have become short, the broad plains were spread out before them;[ ] _e.g._ gen. chap. xiii.-- "but lot also, who was with abraham, had flocks of sheep, and herds and tents. . neither was the land able to bear them, that they might dwell together. . whereupon there arose a strife between the herdsmen of abraham and lot; and at that time the canaanite and the perizzite dwelt in that country. . abraham therefore said, let there be no quarrel. . behold the whole land is before thee."[ ] [ ] i indicated this view in a pamphlet, "inviolability of property by the state, by an english landlord." . [ ] again esau and jacob separated, after the death of the patriarch isaac, because their stock in herds and flocks had so increased that, according to the scriptural phrase, "it was more than they might dwell together," and further, "the land would not bear them because of their cattle."--gen. chap, xxxvi.; _vide_ "pinkerton, voy." i. . writing with reference to the hamitic dynasty, founded at babylon by nimrod (_vide_ rawlinson, anc. mon.), and the conquests of kudur-lagamer, identified by rawlinson as chedor-laomer, mr brace adds ("ethnology," p. ):--"this at a period, as professor rawlinson remarks, when the kings of egypt had never ventured beyond their borders, and when no monarch in asia held dominion over more than a few petty tribes and a few hundred miles of territory."--_vide_ ch. xiii. "a golden age." it is scarcely to be believed, that in such a state of society there would have been feuds, in the sense of inherited or hereditary quarrels, but at most contentions for particular localities; in which case the weaker or the discomfited party would have pushed on to other ground. there was no long contest, because there was nothing worth contesting. it has been noticed that only the highly civilised man, and the savage who has tasted blood, love fighting for the mere sake and ardour of the conflict. the simple barbarian does not fight until he is attacked, neither do the wild animals of the desert; their ferocity is limited and regulated by the necessity and the provocation. it is the exception, rather than the rule, for animals to fight among themselves. it is not in the nature of man or beast to fight without a reason. accordingly, there is no such fomenter of war as war. carver notices that the wars carried on between the indian nations are principally on motives of revenge, and, when not on motives of revenge, their reasons for going to war are "in general more rational and just than such as are fought by europeans, &c."--_carver's "travels in north america,"_ pp. , .[ ] [ ] such seems, at a comparatively recent period ( ), to have been the state of things at a widely different point among the samoides:--"the real spot where the habitations of the samoides begin,--if any case be pointed out among a people which is continually changing residence,--is in the district of mozine, beyond the river of that name, three or four hundred wersts from archangel. the colony, which is actually met with there, and which _lives dispersed_ according to the usage of those people, _each family by itself_, without forming villages and communities, does not consist of more than three hundred families, or thereabouts, which are all descended _from two different tribes_, the one called laghe and the other wanonte--_distinctions carefully regarded by them_."--_vide_ "pinkerton, voy." i. . it is also said (p. ) of certain moral observances amongst them (_vide infra_, p. ):--"all these customs, religiously observed among them, are no other than the fruits of tradition, handed down to them from their ancestors; and this tradition, with some reason, may be looked upon as law." it is a common idea amongst us that the word _home_ is a peculiarly english word, and, i confess, it was my own impression, but i am set musing by finding among these same samoides the word "_chome_" as their word for their _tents_, to which they cling so closely.--_vide_ pinkerton, i. . "i visited four other villages or _goungs_, and there may be as many more in assam, each containing about three or four hundred people. every community is under the patriarchal government of a chief, from whom the village takes its name.... the chiefs of villages would combine against a common enemy, but are as independent of each other as the old highland heads of clans.... i was curiously reminded of the clan distinctions, by observing that the home-grown cotton cloths differed in pattern in the different villages. in all cases chequered patterns were worn, presenting as various combinations of colours and stripes as our own tartans, and each village possessed a pattern peculiar to itself, generally, though not universally, affected by the inhabitants."--_travels in northern assam_, field, i., ; _vide also hunter's "rural bengal,"_ , p. . the same tendencies, under similar circumstances, where the tribes were not crowded or in fear of warlike neighbours, was noticed among the red indians some forty years ago. now, i suppose, instances would be rare. "when a nation of indians becomes too numerous conveniently to procure subsistence from its own hunting-grounds, it is no uncommon occurrence for it to send out a colony, or, in other words, to separate into tribes.... the tribe so separated maintains all its relations independent of the parent nation, though the most friendly intercourse is commonly maintained, and they are almost uniformly allies. separations sometimes take place from party dissensions, growing generally out of the jealousies of the principal chiefs, and, not unfrequently, out of petty quarrels. in such instances, in order to prevent the unnecessary and wanton effusion of blood, and consequent enfeebling of the nation, the weaker party moves off usually without the observance of much ceremony."[ ] [ ] "hunter's memoir of his captivity (from childhood to the age of nineteen) among the indians," p. , . he also adds (p. ):--"the indians do not pretend to any correct knowledge of the tumuli or mounds that are occasionally met with in their country.... one tradition of the quapaws states that a nation differing very much from themselves inhabited the country many hundred snows ago, when game was so plenty that it required only slight efforts to procure subsistence, and when there _existed no hostile neighbours to render the pursuit of war necessary_." and stephen's "central america" (i. ) notices the absence of all weapons of war from the representations in sculpture at copan, and says:--"in other countries, battle scenes, warriors, and weapons of war, are among the most prominent subjects of sculpture; and from the entire absence of them here, there is reason to believe that the people were not warlike, but peaceable, and easily subdued." mr grote in his "plato"[ ] says-- "there existed," even "in his (plato's) time, a great variety of distinct communities--some in the simplest, most patriarchal, cyclopian condition, _nothing more than families_; some highly advanced in civilisation, with its accompanying good and evil, some in each intermediate stage between these two extremes. each little family or sept exists at first separately, with a patriarch whom all implicitly obey, and peculiar customs of its own. several of these septs gradually coalesce together into a community, choosing one or a few lawgivers to adjust and modify their respective customs into harmonious order."[ ] [ ] iii., ch. xxxvii. leges, . [ ] i find incidental corroboration of this view in "the archæology of prehistoric annals" of scotland, by dr wilson--"the infancy of all written history is necessarily involved in fable. long ere _scattered families_ had _conjoined_ their _patriarchal unions into tribes_, and clans acknowledging some common chief, and submitting their differences to the rude legislation of the arch-priest or civil head of the commonwealth, treacherous tradition has converted the story of their birth into the wildest admixture of myth and legendary fable."--_introd._, p. . even in the plain of sennaar (shinar) we see something of this fusion of tribes--"besides these two main constituents of the chaldæan race there is reason to believe that both a semitic and aryan element existed.... the subjects of the early kings are continually designated in the inscriptions by the title of 'kiprat-arbat,' which is interpreted to mean 'the four nations' or 'tongues'" (rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. p. ). professor rawlinson is also of opinion, that "the league of the four kings in abraham's time seems correspondent to a four-fold ethnic division." does not the above also correspond to the four-fold ethnic division of the vedas?--_vide infra_, p. . compare also the four-fold division of the world or of peru, according to various indian traditions, between manco capac and his brothers.--_vide_ hakluyt society's edition of garcilasso de la vega, i. - . if these are not traditions of fusions of races, they can only be diluvian traditions of the four couples who came out of the ark, which was the conjecture of the spaniards in the case of manco capac. in the situations, however, where the more powerful families had seized the vantage-ground, or established themselves in the richest and most coveted valleys, the tendency to consolidation and permanent settlement would have more rapidly manifested itself. as the tendency to family dispersion became restrained, and its scope restricted, disputes as to _meum_ and _tuum_ would have become more frequent as between families, some more central authority than the family headship would have been demanded for the protection, discrimination, and regulation of property. _in these_ instances the state may be said to have arisen out of the expansion of the family into the tribes--the families, probably, never having ceased to dwell together in semi-aggregation; and, when greater concentration was required, they simply had to fall back upon the patriarchal chieftain. we seem to see a tradition of this in the anax andron. but equally as regards the rest there must inevitably have come a time when, as the world became crowded, the same necessity of defending their possessions, would have caused families, among whom there was no affinity of race, to coalesce, intermix, succumb, and form communities and states. these two modes of settlement into communities and states were, however, essentially dissimilar, and the basis thus laid would have remained permanently different. the one was the basis of custom, the other of contract; the one the settlement of the east, the other of the west; and it will be seen, i think, that whilst the one was more favourable to the conservation of traditions of religion and history, the other would have better preserved the tradition of right. these are points to which i shall return in a subsequent chapter, when i shall avail myself of the investigations of sir henry maine. this simple outline, however, of human history, conformable, as i believe it to be, with the scriptural narrative, conflicts with at least three theories now much in vogue. the first, which is substantially that of sir john lubbock, mr mill,[ ] and mr b. gould, is thus conveniently summarised by mr hepworth dixon.[ ] "every one who has read the annals of our race--a page of nature with its counterfoil in the history of everything having life--is aware that, in our progress from the savage to the civilised state, man has had to pass through three grand stages, corresponding, as it were, to his childhood, to his youth, and to his manhood. in the first stage of his career he is a hunter, living mainly by the chase; in the second, he is a herdsman; ... in the third stage, he is a husbandman.... then these conditions of human life may be considered as finding their purest types in such races as the iroquois, the arabian, the gothic, in their present stage; but each condition is, in itself and for itself, _an affair of development and not of race_. the arab, who is now a shepherd, was once a hunter. the saxon, who is now a cultivator of the soil, was first a hunter, then a herdsman, before he became a husbandman. man's progress from stage to stage is _continuous_ in its course, _obeying the laws of physical and moral change_. it is slow, it is _uniform_, it is silent, it is unseen. in one word, it is _growth_.... these three stages in our progress upward are strongly marked; the interval dividing an iroquois from an arab being as wide as that which separates an arab from a saxon." [ ] this view will be found in the first chapter of mr j. s. mill's "principles of political economy," ch. i. p. . "there is perhaps no people or community now existing which subsist entirely on the spontaneous produce of vegetation." [whether mankind ever lived "entirely on," &c., may be questioned, but it is implied in gen. ix. that man did not subsist on animal food until after the deluge, a fact which lies at the foundation of porphyry's work, "de abstinentia."] "but many tribes still live exclusively, or almost exclusively, on wild animals, the produce of hunting or fishing.... the first _great advance beyond this state_ consists in the domestication of the more useful animals: giving rise to the _the pastoral or nomad state.... from this state of society to the agricultural_, the transition is not indeed easy (for no great change in the habits of mankind is otherwise than difficult, and in general either painful or very slow), but it lies in what may be called the spontaneous course of events." [ ] mr hepworth dixon's "new america," vol. i. p. . now, in the first place, i must remark that the iroquois and the arab have never progressed;[ ] neither does the arab at the present show any signs of a transition to the third stage of necessary growth, nor does mr hepworth dixon, although he gives some sound practical advice as to the best mode in which the red man is to be restrained, venture to suggest any mode by which he is to be reclaimed from the first to the third stage, either with or without a transition through the second stage of development. the conclusion therefore, one would think, would be inevitable that it is an affair _of race_ and _not_ of development. the arab and the iroquois, after the lapse of so many centuries, are still found with the evidences of primitive life strong upon them; and so, i imagine, we shall find it wherever we come upon a pure race of homogeneous origin. on the contrary, we shall find that mixed races, by the very law and reason of their admixture, have shown the greatest adaptibility, and, whenever circumstances were favourable, very rapid growth. again, i very much question whether the three stages, or rather three phases of life were ever, as a rule, progressive; and whether, in the cases in which they might chance to have been successive, anything occurred in the transition at all resembling an uniform law of growth. it is very much more probable that the three were from the earliest period contemporaneous[ ]--"and abel was a shepherd, and cain an husbandman" (gen. iv.)--the determination of the sons to the avocations of shepherd, husbandman, and hunter respectively (the latter most probably being the last selected), being influenced by taste, character, and the division of the inheritance, the authority of the father, the geographical conditions of the route, and chance circumstances. [ ] _vide_ sir s. baker; _vide_ note, ch. xiii., _noah_. [ ] the following passage, _inter alia_, from herodotus seems to sustain this--"to the eastward _of those scythians_, who apply themselves to _the culture of the land_, and on the other side of the river panticapes, the country is inhabited by scythians who _neither plough nor sow_, but are employed in _keeping cattle_."--_herod._, iv., mel. and this is the more confirmed when we consider that when once the hunter started on his career, he would have determined their avocation also for his posterity. at his death he would not have had herds of cattle to apportion to any one of his sons, and thus the taste for wild life, necessarily perpetuated, would be bred in the bone, as an indomitable characteristic of race, and the first hunter by choice would inevitably come to be the progenitor of generations of hunters by instinct and necessity. the second theory depicts the opening scene of human existence as a state of conflict, which, it must be allowed, is perfectly consistent with the theory that it was one of savagery. the theory i am now combating was originally the theory of hobbes; and i might have regarded it as now obsolete, were it not that it has cropped up quite recently in a most respectable quarter. mr hunter, in his charming work, "the annals of rural bengal," has a passage which, as i think, has been taken for more than it intends, though not for more than it expresses. mr hunter says, p. -- "the inquiry leads us back to that far-off time which we love to associate with patriarchal stillness. yet the echoes of ancient life in india little resemble a sicilian idyl or the strains of pan's pipe, but strike the ear rather as the cries of oppressed and wandering nations, of people in constant motion and pain. early indian researches, however, while they make havoc of the pastoral landscapes of genesis and job, have a consolation peculiarly suited to this age. they plainly tell us, that as in europe so in asia, the primitive state of mankind was a state of unrest; and that civilisation, despite its exactions and nervous city life, is a state of repose." it is plain that there is here question of restlessness rather than of violence; but grant that there was violence too, the account of mr. hunter when examined, so far from conflicting with, appears to me to fall exactly into, the lines i have indicated. is not the scene, from before which mr. hunter lifts the curtain, the scene of that age following the dispersion (of which, p. , there is such distinct tradition in his pages), which is traditionally known to us as the iron age? the error, then, of mr. hunter is to confound the patriarchal with the iron age. it need not therefore cause surprise that in early indian history we should hear of conflict, for it is just at the period and under the circumstances when we should consider the collision probable. mr. hunter, indeed, speaks of the aboriginal races as mysterious in their origin. but from the point of view of genesis, there seems to be no greater mystery about them than about their conquerors the aryans. one representative, at least, of the aboriginal race, the santals, retain to this day the most vivid traditions of the flood and the dispersion[ ] (pp. , ). now, if there had existed any race anterior to the santals, i think we should have heard of them. on this point we may consider mr. hunter's negative testimony as conclusive, both on account of his extensive knowledge of the subject, and his evident predisposition (p. ) to have discovered a prior race, if it had existed; and there is nothing to show that the same line of argument would not have applied to it if its existence had been demonstrated. it must be mentioned that besides their tradition of the dispersion, the santals retain dim recollections--borne out by comparative evidence--of having travelled to their present homes from the north-east, whereas the aryans came unmistakeably from the north-west. [ ] these legends, shown to be aboriginal, are very curious. they are, however, too long to be extracted here. they would repay perusal. here, then, just as might have been predicted _à priori_, these rival currents of the dispersion met from opposite points, and ran into a _cul de sac_, from which, as there was no egress, there necessarily ensued a struggle for mastery. let us now regard the two people more closely. "our earliest glimpses of the human family in india, disclose two tribes of widely different origin, struggling for the mastery. in the primitive time, which lies on the horizon even of inductive history, a tall, fair-complexioned race passed the himalaya. they came of a conquering stock. they had _known the safety_ and the _plenty_ which can only be enjoyed in regular communities.[ ] _they brought with them a store of legends_ and devotional strains; and chief of all they were at the time of their migration southward through bengal, if not at their first arrival in india, imbued with that high sense of nationality, which burns in the heart of a people who believe themselves the _depositary of a divine revelation_. there is no record of the newcomers' first struggle for life with the people of the land."--_hunter's annals_, p. . here we see the more intellectual, the more spiritual (p. ), monotheistic (p. ) aryan race overpowering the black race which had earliest pre-occupied the ground, and which was already tainted with demon worship. this contrast invites further inquiry; but first let me clear up and direct the immediate drift of my argument. [ ] mr max müller also says ("chips," ii. p. )--"it should be observed that most of the terms connected with the chase and warfare differ in each of the aryan dialects, while words connected with more peaceful occupations belong, generally, to the common heirloom of the aryan language," which proves "that all the aryan nations had led _a long life of peace before they separated_, and that their language acquired individuality and nationality, as each colony started in search of new homes,--new generations forming new terms connected with the warlike and adventurous life of their onward migrations. hence it is that _not only greek and latin, but all aryan_ languages have their peaceful words in common." also _vide_ p. , . if we estimate--taking the minimum or the maximum either according to the hebrew or septuagint version--the time it would have taken these populations, according to the slow progress of the dispersion, to have arrived at their destinations from the plain of sennaar (mesopotamia), the period may be equally conjectured to correspond with that which tradition marks as the commencement of the iron age, when the world was becoming overcrowded, and the increasing populations came into collision. neither is it a difficulty,[ ] it rather appears to me in accordance with tradition, that if this surmise be correct, the earliest arrival in the indian peninsula should have been of those who took the longest route. for it is natural to suppose that the proscribed and weakest races, _e.g._ the canaanitish, would have been the first to depart, and to depart by the north-east and west, the more powerful families having passed down and closed the south-east exit by way of the lower valleys of the euphrates. these latter would have spread themselves out in the direction of india leisurely and at a subsequent period. [ ] i find this conjecture confirmed in the pages of the most recent authority on the subject, mr brace, "ethnology," p. , --"on the continent of asia the turanians were probably the first who figured as nations in the ante-historical period. their emigrations began long before the wanderings of the aryans and semites, who, wherever they went, always discovered a previous population, apparently of turanian origin, which they either expelled or subdued." according to max müller's hypothesis there were two migrations, one northern and one southern [corresponding to the migration as above], "the _latter_ settling on the rivers meikong, meinam, _irrawaddy_, and _bramapootra_," ... "a third to the south [probably an advance of the previous one], is believed to tend toward thibet and india, and in later times pours its hordes _through the himalaya_, and forms the _original population of india_." analogy may be discovered in "the two streams or lines of celtic migration," which, says bunsen ("philosophy of univ. hist." i. ) "we may distinguish by the names of the western and eastern stream, the _former_, although the _less direct_, seems to be historically the more ancient, and to have reached this country (britain) _several centuries_ before _the other_." following these lines of migration, the aryan at some period came upon the black turanian race (_vide infra_, chap. v.); and mr hunter (p. ) records the embittered feelings with which the recollection of the strife remained in tradition. why should this have been? it might suffice to say, in consistency with what has already been advanced, that this was their first encounter, the first check in their advance. another solution seems to me equally ready to hand, and to solve so much more. but first, how does mr hunter account for this bitter feeling? he suggests contempt for their "uncouth talk," "their gross habits of eating," and, what comes near to the truth, as i apprehend it, their blackness and their paganism. suppose, then, we go a step further, and say that the highly intellectual japhetic race met thus suddenly and unexpectedly the outcast canaanitish race, with the curse upon them, recognisable in their colour and deficiencies, and of whom they would have remembered that it had been said, "that they should be the servants of their brethren"--will not this explain something of their animosity? i must here remark that although scientific inquiry takes designations of its own, in order the more conveniently to express its distinctions, yet whether we accept the ethnological or philological demarcations of mankind, it is curious how inevitably, as i think de maistre remarked, we are led back to shem, ham, and japhet. and this is as true now after a half century of scientific progress, as it was when de maistre wrote. without asserting that the divisions may ever be distinctly traced with the minuteness of bochart in his "geog. sacra," i still say, that the broad lines of the traditional apportionment of the world, and the three-fold or four-fold division of the race indicated in scripture, is seen behind the ultimate divisions into which science is brought to separate mankind, whether into caucasian, ethiopian, mongol, with two intermediate varieties, as by blumenbach; or into australioid, negroid, mongoloid, and xanthochroic, as by huxley; or into brace's division into aryan, semitic, turanian, and hamitic. behind these various systems, as behind a grill, we seem to see the forms and faces of the progenitors of the human race discernible, but their existence not capable of contact and actual demonstration, because of the intercepting bars and lattice work.[ ] [ ] i am throughout assuming acquaintance, on the part of my readers, with the third and fourth of cardinal wiseman's "lectures on science and revealed religion;" for although my argument is distinct from that of the cardinal, yet i everywhere regard his argument as the background and support of my position; and it is, moreover, part of the aim and intention of this work to show that the general ground and framework (this is, in fact, understating the truth) of cardinal wiseman's argument remains intact. there is, i think, somewhere in the cardinal's works, a passage to the above effect, but i have not been able to recover it. i have spoken above of a three-fold and four-fold division as equally indicated in scripture, and i think, from non-observance of this, the close approximation of these systems to genesis is not sufficiently recognised. i refer to the three progenital races, and the canaanite marked off and distinguished from the rest by a curse. i shall enlarge upon this point in another chapter (chap. v). i will only observe now that i do not venture to say that the canaanite is co-extensive with the turanian, which is more a philological than an ethnological division of mankind, or that their characteristics in all respects correspond.[ ] i limit my argument now to indicating the correspondence between the canaanite and the aboriginal tribes in india. [ ] if space allowed, i think the traditional lines might be indicated as plainly from the philological as from the ethnological point of view. this correspondence i find not only in the features already noted--their blackness and their intellectual inferiority--but in their enslavement to the superior races of mankind whenever they came into contact and collision with them. is not this everywhere also the mark of the turanian race? are not these conflicts in primitive life always with the turanian race? and are they not in asia, as in africa, in a state of subjugation or dependence? at any rate, this is the condition in which we find the turanian in india, so fully expressed in their name of "sudras."[ ] [ ] "according to the sacred law-book, entitled the ordinances of menu, the creator, that the human race might be multiplied, caused the brahmin, cshatriya, the vaisya, and the _sudra_ (so named from scripture, protection, wealth, and _labour_), to proceed from his mouth, arm, thigh, and foot."--_brit. ency._ the "fatimala," a sanskrit work on hindu castes, says, "the other, _i.e._, the sudra, should voluntarily serve the three other tribes, and therefore he became a sudra; he _should_ humble himself at their feet." against this literal fulfilment of gen. ix. --"cursed be canaan, a servant of servants shall he be to his brethren"--as regards the indian sudra, the text in gen. x. --"and the limits of chanaan were from sidon ... to gaza ... even to sesa"--may be objected. but i construe this text only to refer to chanaan proper, and to be spoken rather with reference to the limits of the promised land and the hebrews, than to the allocation of the tribes of chanaan; for the text immediately preceding seems to me to have its significance--viz. gen. x. ,[ ] where it is said in a marked manner, and of the descendants of chanaan alone, "the families of the canaanites were spread abroad." but if we are to suppose the whole descent of chanaan to have been confined between the limits of sidon and sesa, it could hardly have been said to have had the diffusion of the other hamitic races, and the _families_ of the chanaanites will not have been "spread abroad" in any noticeable or striking manner. it appears to me, also, that it may be proved in another way. st paul, acts xiii. , says that god destroyed _seven_ nations in the land of chanaan, whereas gen. x. enumerates eleven. [ ] homer's expression (od. i. , ), that the ethiopians divided in twain, were the _most remote_ of men-- [greek: "athiopas, toi dichtha dedaiatai eschatoi andrôn, hoi men dysomenoi yperionos oi d' aniontos,"] approximates to the scriptural phrase, and seems to imply a wider dispersion than is suggested by professor rawlinson, i. . again, kalisch ("hist. and crit. com. on old testament," trans. ) makes it a difficulty against gen. ix. that "canaan _should_ not only fall into the hands of shem, _i.e._ the people of israel, but also of _japhet_" (i. ). a remote fulfilment of the prediction may be seen in the median conquest of phoenicia, and the roman destruction of carthage; but if i have truly indicated the order of events, it will be seen that it had already come about in the earliest times. the text, indeed, of gen. ix. --"may god enlarge japhet, and may he dwell in the tents of shem, and canaan be his servant"--is so clear as almost to require some such fulfilment. but the fulfilment is seen, not only in the degradation of chanaan, but in the prosperity of japhet;[ ] and this is so correlative, that i shall still be enforcing the argument whilst connecting a link which may appear to be wanting, viz. the identity of japhet with the more favoured nations of the world. the identity of the indo-germanic races with the descendants of japhet may almost be said to be a truth "_qui saute aux yeux_," but it may still be worth while to collect the links of tradition which establish it. [ ] tylor ("primitive culture," i. p. ) says, "the semitic family, which represents one of the oldest known civilizations of the world, includes arabs, jews, phoenicians (?), syrians, &c., and may have an older as well as a newer connection in north africa. this family takes in some rude tribes, but _none which would be classed as savages_. the aryan family has existed in asia and europe certainly for several thousand years, and there are well known and marked traces of early barbaric condition, which has perhaps survived with least change among secluded tribes in the valleys of the hindu kush and himalaya." [_query_, what is the nature of the evidence that they have survived, and have not degenerated?] mr tylor continues, "there seems, again, _no known case of any full aryan tribe having become savage_. the gipsies and other outcasts are, no doubt, partly aryan in blood, but _their degraded condition_ is not _savagery_. in india there are tribes aryan by language, but whose physique is rather of indigenous type, and whose ancestry is mainly from indigenous stocks, with more or less mixture of the dominant hindu." compare _infra_, ch. v., and de maistre, p. . in truth, it appears to us a self-evident proposition, simply because tradition has familiarised us with the belief that europe was peopled by the descendants of japhet, and because philology has recently demonstrated the indo-germanic race to include this demarcation (together with central and western asia); but i think that if we exclude the testimony of tradition, we should have difficulty in establishing the point either upon the text of gen. x. , or from the evidence of philology. that the race of japhet spread themselves over the islands, and colonised the coasts of the mediterranean, is the traditional interpretation of that text; and it receives confirmation, in the first place, in the tradition that "japetus being the father of prometheus, was regarded by the greeks as the ancestor of the human race."--smith's "myth. dict." we have, i think, become familiar with such transpositions as "deucalion the son of prometheus," and "prometheus the son of deucalion," &c. certainly prometheus (_vide_ appendix to chap. viii. p. , and chap. x. p. ), supposing prometheus to be adam,[ ] would naturally stand at the head of every genealogy; but japetus, supposing him to be identified with japhet as the particular founder of the race (after so distinct and definite a starting-point as the deluge), would also, in his way, have claims to be placed at the head of their genealogy; and probably about the time that he began to be called "old japetus," and to be typical of antiquity, his claims would have been regarded as paramount, and prometheus would have been accordingly displaced in his favour. this is conjectural, but must be taken as one link. [ ] just as hercules (_vide_ hercules, p. ), who embodied in another line the tradition of adam, is said by mr grote, "hist. of greece," i. p. - , "to have been the most renowned and most ubiquitous of all the semi-divine personages worshipped by the hellenes," so that "distinguished families are _everywhere_ to be traced who have his patronymic, and glory in the belief that they are his descendants." to whom would they trace back more naturally than to adam? well, the (indian) aryans also, according to mr hunter ("rural bengal," ), "held (book of manu and the vishnu purana) that the greeks and persians were sprung from errant kshatryas, who had lost their caste"--_i.e._ from their own race. they are called in the same books _yavanas_ and pahlavas. now no one, i think, will call it a forced analogy to see in yavana the name of javan, the son of japhet.[ ] this i may call link the second. [ ] this must be taken in connection with what i have said, ch. x. but the aryans, as we have seen, are one of the three or four primitive races to which both philology and ethnology lead us back. they are contrasted, on the one side, with the semitic, and, on the other, with the hamitic or turanian race. we will assume, then, on the strength of the philological and scriptural lines being so nearly conterminous, that at least, looking from the point of view of scripture, the aryan may be identified with great probability as the japhetic race. if, then, the aryan is the japhetic race in its elder branch--to which its later migration would seem to testify--we should exactly expect that it would designate a kindred but collateral race, not by the name of their common ancestor, but by the name of the progenitor from whom they were more immediately descended--not as from japhet, but from javan. thus the links seem to join; and here i leave them, till there may chance to come some one who will gather up all the links in the chain of tradition, dislocated and dispersed by the catastrophes which have been consequent upon the derelictions of mankind. the third view to which i wish to advert, is that put forward by mr john f. m'lennan in his "primitive marriage," , which also revives the theory of a savage state, and moreover professes to discover primitive mankind living in a state of promiscuity, little, if at all, elevated above the brute, and this during the long period which was required to develop . the tribe; . the gens; . the family. it will be difficult for any one, who comes fresh from the perusal of genesis, to realise the possibility of such a view being held; but, in truth, there is no view too grotesque for men in whose survey mankind appear originally on the scene as a mass of units coming into the world, no one knows how, like locusts rising above the horizon, or covering the earth perhaps like toads after a shower! yet mr m'lennan's theory is virtually endorsed (_vide infra_) by sir j. lubbock, who refers to it (p. , note), as "mr m'lennan's masterly work." if, then, we must discuss the theory upon its merits, the objection which i should take, _in limine_, is that it is a partial generalisation from facts, irrespective of the historical evidence as a whole. there stands against it, of course, the direct evidence of the bible, also there stands against it the researches of oriental archaeology, and, again, what mr m'lennan calls the "so-called revelation of philology," which shows that mankind, in the period previous to their dispersion, "had marriage laws regulating the rights and obligations of husbands and wives, of parents and children." this evidence he rejects because "the preface of general history _must be_ compiled from the materials presented by barbarism" (p. ), thus _assuming_ barbarism to have been the primitive state. mr m'lennan struggles vainly for universal facts on which to build, and seems to find one in what he has termed exogamy (_i.e._ marriage outside the tribe), combined with the capture of wives and the infanticide of female children within the tribe. impossible! if this state of things had been _universal_, the human race would have exterminated itself long before "the historic period!" the theory necessarily supposes that some tribes were addicted to these practices, whilst others were not. exogamy, therefore, is not a universal fact; but neither could endogamy have been, _for "the conversion of an endogamous tribe into an exogamous tribe is inconceivable,"_ p. . but as mr m'lennan is as much constrained to choose between exogamy and endogamy as was mons. jourdain between poetry and prose, he apparently elects in favour of the universal primitive prevalence of exogamy, _i.e._ he supposes mankind to have commenced under conditions which would have ensured its proximate extinction. mr m'lennan (p. ) says, "the two types of organisation (viz. exogamy and endogamy) may be equally archaic;" but it is evident that he inclines to the opinion that exogamy is the more archaic; and his analysis at p. , commencing with "exogamy pure, no. , and continuing on to ... endogamy pure, no. ," is "the analysis of a series of phenomena which appears to form a progression" ( ). moreover, the difficulties which i have just urged will immediately recur if we allow "the two types to have been equally archaic." the supposed exogamous tribes, according to the theory, enforcing the infanticide of female children, and not permitting marriage within the tribe, must have been wholly dependent upon the endogamous groups for their women. these latter groups must either have succumbed, and so have become speedily extinguished through the loss of their women (for they could not have acquired others who were not of their stock, without ceasing to be endogamous); or they must have resisted successfully, and even if the matter went no farther, the exogamous tribes must have died out or abandoned exogamy; or the endogamous tribes must have resisted and retaliated, in which case we should have this further complication that they themselves would have ceased to be endogamous, and without any reason or necessity for becoming exogamous; for with the seizure of the females of the exogamous tribes, or even, under the special circumstances, with the recovery of their own, the element of "heterogeneity" would have been introduced, and the system of endogamy would have been no longer true in theory, or possible in fact. all these results must have been immediately consequent upon the first collision, which from the very conditions of exogamy, must have occurred at the outset! postulating exogamy, it must therefore rapidly have extirpated or absorbed every other system, and yet it could never have stood alone. mr m'lennan himself allows that wherever "kinship through females, the most ancient system in which the idea of blood relationship was embodied" ( ) was known, there would have been a tendency among the exogamous groups to become heterogeneous, and that thus "the system of capturing wives would have been superseded."[ ] in other words, exogamy would have become extinct. but if "kinship through females" was not discovered by the first children of the first mothers, how was it subsequently discovered? we are given no clue except that "the order of nature is progressive!" [ ] at p. , mr m'lennan sees evidence of the "form of capture" and the fact of capture among the jews; but he will at least allow the appeal to be made to the scriptures, as their most authentic history. what do we find at the commencement? in the first marriage contract recorded, _i.e._ of isaac and rebecca? why, the reverse of capture. genesis xxvi. , "but if the woman will not follow thee thou shalt not be bound by the oath." also v. , . mr m'lennan (p. ), with reference to the hurling "stones and bamboos at the head of the devoted bridegroom in khondistan," says, "_the hurling of old shoes_ after the bridegroom among ourselves _may be_ a relic of a similar custom." but this custom would seem to be much more directly traced to the custom among the jews of taking the shoes from the man who refused to marry his brother's widow (deuteronomy), and which is more generally stated in ruth iv. , as a token of _cession of right_--"the man _put off his shoe_, and gave it to his neighbour, _this was the testimony of a cession of right in israel_" (ruth iv. ). this compels the remark that if mr m'lennan fails to prove that exogamy was universal, as a stage of human progress, or, to use a phrase of his own, "on such a scale as to entitle it to rank among the normal phenomena of human development," there is nothing to exclude the likelihood of its being much more satisfactorily and directly traced as the result of degeneracy. mr m'lennan should clear his ground by demonstrating that the circumstances exclude the possibility of this conjecture. on the contrary, and on his own showing, they would appear much more certainly to affirm it. although exogamy is the earliest fact which he believes to be demonstrable by evidence, he assumes an initial promiscuity; and seems to see his way out of this initial promiscuity through the system of "rude polyandry" (when one woman was common to a determinate number of men unrelated) as distinguished from "regulated polyandry" (where one woman was common to several brothers). it must be noted that before these polyandrous families, if we may so call them, at first necessarily limited, could theoretically or in fact have become the tribal exogamous groups, many difficulties must be disposed of, and many stages traced, of which we are told nothing more than that we are "forced to regard all the exogamous races as having originally been polyandrous" (p. ). that these families, if it is not an abuse of terms to call them so, could not have become tribal by grouping, mr m'lennan himself maintains, p. . the two systems which mr m'lennan distinguishes as "rude" and "regulated polyandry," are so essentially different that i fail to trace the possibility of progression from one to the other. "rude polyandry" is barely distinguishable from promiscuity, and not at all if we regard it as only promiscuity, necessarily limited through infanticide, or other causes destroying the balance of the sexes. the latter has peculiar features--arising in some way out of, and fixed in the idea of the relationship of brothers--an idea which it is just conceivable might arise directly out of a state of promiscuity--where theoretically the children might be supposed to be in contact with the mother only, but which the system of "rude polyandry," by introducing conflicting and complicated claims, would immediately tend to weaken and obliterate. let us see, then, if we can trace the custom better on the lines of degeneracy. if we start with the belief in the existence of many primitive ceremonies and regulations we may then suppose that in the downward progression to promiscuity, the stages of the descent will be traceable in the corruptions of these customs. such surmises at least are as good as the contrary surmises of mr m'lennan. now, we have already seen[ ] that mr m'lennan alludes to the law of deuteronomy, which imposed the obligation of the younger brother marrying the widow of the elder--and it will, moreover, be seen (mr m'lennan, p. ) that this was also prescribed in the law of menu. [ ] "dr latham would invert the order of development by producing the ruder fact--polyandry--from the less rude obligation. but clearly this is an inversion of the order of nature, _which is progressive_," &c.--_m'lennan_, "_prim. marriage_," p. . whatever may be the true solution of this coincidence the least likely account would seem to be that they had both, under different conditions (different at any rate from the point of divergence, be it exogamy or polyandry), advanced to it independently and by similar stages. such fortuitous coincidences would imply not merely a succession of similar developments, but also a corresponding succession of accidental circumstances. if, however, the custom of the younger brother marrying the widow of the elder was of primitive institution (compare genesis xxxviii. and the code of menu), the corruption of this custom into polyandry, in circumstances which may at any time have disturbed the balance of the sexes in the overcrowded east, though it revolts will not absolutely astonish us; whereas the converse, _i.e._ restriction to successive appropriation contingent upon widowhood, from a state of virtual promiscuity, is so uphill a reform and so contrary to probability that it requires some internal evidence of the stages, and some warrant in modern observation to make it plausible. none are given. for the fact that we find both the "rude" and the "regulated" form existing side by side cuts both ways;[ ] and the discovery of a form of capture--the rakshasa, among the eight forms sanctioned by the code of menu, enforces our argument--it would exactly correspond to the military exemption among the jews (mr m'lennan, p. ), supposing we were able to read deuteronomy xx. - in the same sense as mr m'lennan. in that case, therefore, it would be a departure from or relaxation of a rule laid down--a view which is confirmed when we find that the authority quoted (dr muir, "sanscrit texts," the ramayana) tells that "ravana, the most terrible of all the rakshasas, is stigmatised as a _destroyer of religious duties_, and ravisher of the _wives_ of others" (prim. mar. p. ), which testifies to degeneracy at some period; whereas if mr m'lennan's view is true, this hero must be relegated to a time when the conception of "religious duties," and even of other men's "wives" were unknown. [ ] it seems to me that turner's account of polyandry in tibet, quoted by mr m'lennan, p. , gives plain evidence of the transition from the jewish custom to the "regulated" polyandry. it is said "that _the choice_ of a _wife_ is the _privilege_ of the _elder brother_." we have seen (_supra_, ), that when mankind had got, we know not how, into tribal exogamous groups, "kinship through females would have a tendency," and a moment's consideration will show an immediate tendency, "to render the exogamous groups heterogeneous, and thus to supersede the system of capturing wives." we ask why did they capture wives? mr m'lennan implies that their ideas of _incest_ forbade marriage within the tribe.[ ] apparently, then, the groups must have been exogamous[ ] previously to the time when they had attained to the knowledge of "kinship through females," else "kinship through females" would from the first have operated to produce a state of things which would have rendered exogamy unnecessary and inexplicable. the corollary is curious; they must, therefore, have had the idea of incest before they had the idea of kinship through females! [ ] "instead of endogamy we might, after some explanations, have used the word caste. but caste connotes several ideas besides that on which we desire to fix attention. on _the other hand, the rule which declares_ the union of persons of the same blood _to be incest_ has been _hitherto unnamed_" (p. ), and he terms it _exogamy_; and (p. ) he says, "in all the modern instances in which the symbol of capture is most marked we have found that _marriage within the tribe_ is prohibited as _incest_." [ ] mr m'lennan (p. ) says, "we shall endeavour to establish the following propositions:-- . that the _most ancient_ system in which the idea of blood relationship was embodied, was the system of _kinship through females only_. . that the primitive groups were, or were assumed to be homogeneous. . that the system of kinship _through females only, tended to render_ the _exogamous_ groups _heterogeneous_, and _thus to supersede_ the system of capturing wives." that some tribes should have arrived at some such state through a perverted traditional notion of incest, would, on the other hand, perfectly fit into the theory of degeneracy. i had intended to have pursued this subject, but the chapter has already run to too great length. as allusion however, has been made to sir john lubbock, i append an extract (see p. ) from which it will be seen that his view, although equally remote from historical truth, has a greater _à priori_ probability. indeed, if we could only consent to start on the assumption of "an initial state of hetairism," nothing would be more complete than the following theory:-- "for reasons to be given shortly, i believe that communal marriage was gradually superseded by individual marriages founded on capture, and that this led firstly to exogamy, and then to female infanticide; thus reversing m'lennan's order of sequence. endogamy and regulated polyandry, though frequent, i regard as exceptional, and as not entering into the normal progress of development. like m'lennan and bachojen, i believe that our present social relations have arisen from an initial stage of hetairism or communal marriage. it is obvious, however, that even under communal marriage, a warrior who had captured a beautiful girl in some marauding expedition, would claim a peculiar right to her, and, when possible, would set custom at defiance. we have already seen that there are other cases of the existence of marriage, under two forms, side by side in one country, and that there is, therefore, no real difficulty in assuming the co-existence of communal and individual marriage. it is true that, under a communal marriage system, no man could appropriate a girl entirely to himself, without infringing the rights of the whole tribe.... a war-captive, however, was in a peculiar position, the tribe had no right to her; her capturer might have killed her if he chose; ... he did as he liked, the tribe was no sufferer."--_sir j. lubbock's "origin of civilisation,"_ pp. , . i will only ask one question. at what period does sir j. lubbock suppose the custom of inheritance through females arose? this as nearly approaches a universal fact as any which sir j. lubbock adduces (_vide_ p. , _et seq._); and, on the point of its having been a prevalent custom, i can have no difficulty. whenever through degeneracy man arrived at the state of promiscuity or communal marriages, such inheritance as there might be, in such a community, would only be claimed through females, as the paternity would always be uncertain (_vide infra_, p. ). if, however, mankind commenced with communal marriages, inheritance and relationship through females would also have been from the commencement. let us now turn to sir j. lubbock's theory, as expressed in the extract above, in which he shows us how marriage by capture would quite naturally have arisen out of the state of communal marriage. but if natural, it would have been natural from the commencement, _quid vetat_? there must then have been a system also in operation from the commencement, the inevitable tendency of which, by making paternity distinct and recognisable, would have been to substitute inheritance through males; and this system, by introducing a more robust posterity, would rapidly have gained upon the other system. male inheritance, it would then appear, commenced and established itself at the outset, and to the displacement of inheritance through females. how, then, do we find traces of the latter custom so prevalent? from this point of view the more instances sir j. lubbock accumulates, the more he will excite our incredulity and surprise. this theory again, equally with mr m'lennan's, supposes mankind originally in a state of hetairism, in which case it is futile to talk of tribes and of marriage out of the tribe; for how did they emerge into this tribal separation out of the state of promiscuity? the difficulty gets more complicated since, _ex hypothesi_, after emerging from, they still remain within the tribal limits, in the state of hetairism. these preliminaries must be settled before the argument can be carried further. the usual philosophic formula is, of course, at hand--these changes must have required an indefinite lapse of ages! into this swamp we shall see one philosopher after another disappear, leaving a delusive light behind him! if we could only, dante like, recall one of these philosophers to life, after he has passed into his state of nirvana, we would ask, as in this instance, why, supposing the state of promiscuity, it would require an indefinite lapse of ages to pass from it, according to the conditions of sir john lubbock's argument (_i.e._ to the state of exogamy); considering that, _vide supra_, "it is obvious that, even under communal marriage, a warrior who had captured, &c., would claim a peculiar right to her, and, when possible, would set custom at defiance." clearly, then, it only required the man and the opportunity. appendix to chapter iii. the view at p. substantially coincides with the lines laid down by blackstone (compare plato; grote's plato, iii. ), which are the subject of bentham's attack, and to which the recent contributions of sir henry maine to our knowledge in these matters would seem to run counter. blackstone, "comm." i. , said-- "this notion, of an actually existing unconnected state of nature, is too wild to be seriously admitted: and, besides, it is plainly contradictory to the revealed accounts of the primitive origin of mankind and their preservation two thousand years afterwards, both which were effected by the means of single families. these formed the first society among themselves, which every day extended its limits; and when it grew too large to subsist with convenience in that pastoral state wherein the patriarchs appear to have lived, it necessarily subdivided itself by various migrations into more. afterwards, as agriculture increased, which employs and can maintain a much greater number of hands, migrations became less frequent, and various tribes, which had formerly separated, reunited again, sometimes by compulsion and conquest, sometimes by accident, and sometimes, perhaps, by compact.... and this is what we mean by the original contract of society, which, though perhaps in no instance it has ever been formally expressed at the first institution of a state, yet, in nature, reason must always be understood and implied in the very act of associating together.... when society is once formed, government results, of course, as necessary to preserve and to keep that society in order ... unless some superior were constituted ... they would still remain in a state of nature." bentham says of this passage from blackstone, that "'_society_,' in one place, means the same thing as a '_state of nature_' does: in another place, it means the same as '_government_.' here we are required to believe there _never was_ such a state as a state of nature: then we are given to understand there _has been_. in like manner, with respect to an original contract, we are given to understand that such a thing never existed, that the notion of it is even ridiculous; at the same time, that there is no speaking nor stirring without supposing that there was one."--_bentham's "fragment on government,"_ p. (london, ). the previous and subsequent chapters (ii., xiii.), will be found to meet these strictures of bentham, although not originally written with reference to them. chapter iv. _chronology from the point of view of tradition._ to many it may seem a fundamental objection that my theory supposes a chronology altogether out of keeping with modern discovery; and i fancy there is a somewhat general impression that modern science has an historical basis, to which not even the septuagint chronology can be made to conform. this really is not the case; but assuming it to be true, i must still remark, that if facts of primeval tradition have been established, the long lapse of ages will only enhance our notions of the persistency of tradition; or if the lapse of ages is disproved, this conclusion will be in recognition of a truth to which tradition testifies. i shall now proceed to establish that the strictly historical testimony, and the direct historical evidence, is strikingly concurrent in favour of the scriptural chronology, allowing the margin of difference between the hebrew and lxx. versions.[ ] [ ] "aucune des trois chronologies bibliques, là ou elles ne s'accordent pas entre elles, ne s'impose avec une autorite suffisante soit au fidele, soit au savant. l'eglise catholique a laissé le choix libre entre ces chronologies et elles n'oblige pas même à en adopter une."--_"le monde et l'homme primitif selon la bible," par mgr. meignan, evêque de chalons-sur-marne_, . with this view i shall successively examine the chronology of the principal nations whose annals profess to go back to the commencement of things--the aryan (including the indian, the persian, the greek, and the roman), the babylonian, the chinese, phoenician, and egyptian. _indian chronology._--there was a time when the indian (aryan) chronology was believed to attain to the most remote antiquity of all, and this belief was sustained by the apparently irrefragable testimony of astronomical evidence. who upholds this evidence now? on this head i must refer to cardinal wiseman's seventh lecture ("on science and revealed religion"), where the reader will find a clear and careful _precis_ of the discussion on the subject between bailly and delambre, the _edinburgh review_ and bentley, to which i am not aware that anything of consequence has to be added. if, on the other hand, we turn to what i am exclusively directing my attention--the strict historical investigation--we find that the cautious inquiries of such men as sir w. jones and heeren concur in placing the aryan invasion at the antecedently very probable date, from the point of view of scripture, of some years b.c. at the present moment the discussion takes the form of philological inquiry, and into the antiquity (upon internal evidence) of the ancient sanscrit literature. in so far, therefore, as it is philological, it belongs to the indirect argument, which i am now excluding. in so far as the sanscrit literature is historical, i have discussed the testimony which it brings in the preceding chapter. professor rawlinson, however, in his recent "manual of ancient history," refuses to discuss the question, as he does not regard the maha-bharata and ramayana as "trustworthy sources of history," and commences his persian history with the accession of cyrus, previously to which he does not consider the aryan migration and settlement to have been completed. apart, then, from the peculiar line of argument to which i shall presently refer, it would appear that the indian chronology, as reconstructed from history and tradition, falls easily within the lines, not only of the lxx., but of the hebrew version. the indians, it is true ("hales' chron.," i. ), themselves say that their history goes back , , years. although hales gives a solution which may be deemed satisfactory, i think that, if considered in connection with the babylonian computation, it will be seen that, though inexact in their figure, they are accurate in their tradition. _the primary figure in their (indian) calculation_-- , --_is arrived at through the extended multiplication_ of the chaldean sossos, neros, and saros, _or of their own traditional figures_ corresponding to them (_vide infra_). in the chaldean system (_vide_ rawlinson, "anc. mon.," i.), and were employed as alternate multipliers. thus a "soss" = years ( × ), a "ner" = ( × ), a "sar" = ( × ); and if the multiplication be continued, the next figure would be , ( × ), next , ( , × ). _the indian figure , ,[ ] is made up of twice , ._ [ ] , is also the figure to which berosus extends the assyrian chronology. thus the indian fabrication commences at the point where berosus ends. professor rawlinson ("anc. mon.," i. ) gives in detail, and endorses a remarkable _eclaircissement_ of m. gutschmid on the mythical traditions of assyrian chronology. _babylonian chronology._--rawlinson says-- "assuming that the division between the earlier and later assyrian dynasty synchronises with the celebrated era of nabonassar ( b.c.), which is probable, but not certain, and taking the year b.c. as the admitted date of the conquest of the last chaldæan king by cyrus, he obtains for the seventh or second assyrian dynasty years ( to ). assuming, next, that b.c. , from which the babylonians counted their stellar observations, must be a year of note in chaldæan history, and finding that it cannot well represent the first year of the second or median dynasty, since in that case eleven kings of the third dynasty would have reigned no more than thirty-four years, he concludes it must mark the expulsion of the medes and accession of the third dynasty (which he regards as a native dynasty). from his previous calculations, it follows that the fourth dynasty began b.c. ; between which and b.c. are years, a period which may be fairly assigned to eleven monarchs. this much is conjecture ... _the proof now suddenly flashes on us_. if the numbers are taken in the way assigned, and then added to the years of the first or purely mythical dynasty, we get , , equal to the next term, to the sar (saros, _vide supra_), in the babylonian system of cycles." it will be more apparent in the following table from rawlinson, _idem_-- |---------------------------------------------- | | years. | b.c. | |----------------------------|-----------------| |mythical chaldæans | , | | | { medes | | | | { [chaldæans] | ( ) | | | { chaldæans | | | |historical. { arab | | | | { [assyrian] | | | | { [assyrian] | | | | { chaldæans | | | |----------------------------|----------|------| | | , | | |----------------------------|----------|------| _chinese chronology._--the chinese, also--though, be it observed, the chinese of modern date, according to klaproth ("mem. relatifs. à l'asie," i. ; klaproth places the commencement of the uncertain history of china b.c., the certain history b.c.),[ ] in the first year of our era, but more systematically in the ninth century--forged a mythological history, which carried the empire back , , years (another calculation, , , ). he adds, however, that the chinese themselves do not consider the wai-ki, the authority for these statements, to be historical. [ ] bunsen ("egypt," iii. ) says, "systematic chinese history and chronology hardly go back as far as the year b.c., _i.e._ to the reign of yü ( )." yet upon indirect philological conclusions, he would really take their history back _beyond the_ egyptian--iii. p. . "an explanation must be given why it (the chinese history) commences at a later period (as above) than egyptian chronology; much _later_, indeed, than is generally supposed. search must be made in _other quarters than_ the regular extant chronology for proofs of that _vast antiquity_, which the numerous _records_ of language _compel_ us to assign to the origines of the chinese." this vast antiquity may be measured by the fact that, _ex hypothesi_, it transcends the egyptian, and for the egyptian in his theory of progress and development, he requires _at least , years_ before the christian era. again, if we allow ourselves to be entangled in certain astronomical disputations, the question may become complicated and confused; but the astronomical discussion must depend, in the end, upon a point which history must determine--_i.e._ whether the astronomical knowledge and observations referred to had come down in primitive tradition, or had been imported at a later date. although it need not exclude a belief in a tradition of primitive knowledge of astronomy, yet the doubt will ever cause a fatal uncertainty in any calculations, since, if the knowledge, or the knowledge of the particular observations and facts, had at any time been imported, they might have calculated back their eclipses, as has been proved to have been done in india. let us then, excluding the purely astronomical calculations, closely scrutinise the evidence which tradition affords; for if we can discover tradition of "appearances of rare occurrence, and which are difficult to calculate, such as many of the planetary conjunctions," they "must," as baron bunsen observes ("egypt," iii. p. ), "either be pure inventions, or contemporary notations of some extraordinary natural phenomena." baron bunsen proceeds to say:--"one instance that may be cited is the traditional observation of a conjunction of five planets (among which the sun and moon are mentioned), on the first day of litshin, in the time of tshuen-hiü, the _second successor of hoang-ti_. suppose this should have been the great conjunction of the three upper planets which recurs every years and four months, and to which kepler first turned his attention in reference to the year of the nativity of christ. it took place in the following years. the one which occurred in historical times was in november, seven years b.c.; consequently the conjunctions prior to it occurred in-- yrs. mos. dys. --------------------- --------------------- and the conjunction in --------------------- the time of tshuen-hiü in according to the official chinese tables, as given by ideler, he reigned from b.c. to b.c.; but the dates vary to the extent of more than years, and the year comes within the limits of these deviations." baron bunsen, we may then assume, has very skilfully brought back chinese chronology to within _two generations of hoang-ti (supra)_. if we could further identify hoang-ti with noah, two patriarchal generations would bring us close to the date of the deluge as fixed by the septuagint, if we referred them, in the first instance, to the death of noah. before proceeding to this identification, i must point to another chronological fact in chinese tradition, which would give to this identification an antecedent probability. it was stated (bunsen, "egypt," iii. ) that hoang-ti established the _astronomical cycle of years_ in the _sixty-first year_ of his _reign_. at p. , bunsen says: "the scientific problem thus offered for our solution is the following--it is admitted that the chinese, from the _earliest times_, made use of a sexagesimal cycle for the division of the year = × days ( days), and they marked the years by a cycle of years, running concurrently with the cycle of days. this cycle, therefore, must have been originally instituted at a time when the first day of the daily cycle coincided with the first year of the annual cycle, _i.e._ when they commenced on the same day. ideler thinks it impossible to ascertain this, owing to the irregularity of the old calendar." we may ask, then, what year that could be named would so exactly satisfy these conditions as the sixty-first year of the reign of noah after the deluge?[ ] let us, moreover, consider how traditional this cycle of sixty years has been (p. ),--"scaliger made the remark that the twelve yearly zodiacal cycle, which is in use among the tartars (mongols, mandshus, igurians), the inhabitants of thibet, the japanese and siamese dated from _the earliest times_. among the tartaric populations, however, this is a cycle of sixty years ( × ); of the indians we have already spoken." [ ] martini ("historia sinica," p. , edit. monac.) asserts that the egyptians computed by the era of sixty years of _hoangho_. see de vignolle's "miscellanea berolinensia," i. iv. , on the cycle of months. compare ideler, app. ix., note from bunsen, iii. . humboldt ("vues des cordillères", p. ; prescott, mex., i. ) seems to say that, "among the chinese, japanese, moghols, mantchous, and other families of the tartar race" (compare mexican, do.), "their series was composed of symbols of their five elements, and the twelve zodiacal signs, making a cycle of sixty years duration." this is not incompatible with, the allegation that it is "the era of sixty years of hoangho." it will have already been seen that the cycle of sixty years entered into the chaldean system--viz. cycle of years = a sossos, years = a saros, years = a neros. "now when we find (bunsen, p. ) that six hundred years _gives an excess of exactly one lunar month, with far greater accuracy_ than the julian year, such a cycle must have been indispensable when that of sixty years was in use, and consequently must have been employed by the chinese, or, at all events, have been known to those from whom they borrowed the latter. josephus also calls six hundred years the great year, which may have been observed by the patriarch." and at p. , in summing up the general chronological result, he says:-- "_a._ ... the earliest chinese chronology rests upon a conventional basis peculiar to itself, that of limiting the lunar year by a cycle of six hundred years, which is common to the whole of north asia and the chaldeans; and probably (as it is also met with in india) to the bactrians also: this basis is _historical_." "_b._ the communication took place before the chaldees invented the cycle of six hundred years." from our point of view, believing that the chaldees never invented the cycle but held to it traditionally, the above conclusion must be construed to mean that the "communication," or diffusion of the knowledge, must have taken place before the lapse of the first six hundred years after the deluge, which will be further confirmed by conclusion _c._ "_c._ the chinese observation is based upon the babylonian gnomon," which appears to me tantamount to the admission that it took place, in the plains of mesopotamia, previous to the dispersion. in arriving, then, at the sixty-first year of the reign of hoang-ti, we are led up to such close proximity to the epoch of the deluge, that the presumption that hoang-ti was noah would be strong, even if no other evidence was at hand to corroborate it. it is with this supplementary evidence that i now propose to deal. although the tradition of the chinese is remarkably accurate, up to a certain point, yet in the period beyond that point, where the confusion is manifest, there is no reason why we should not expect to find the same reduplications and amalgamations of ante and post diluvian traditions, which we have already found in the history of other nations. without attempting to unravel all complications, let us turn again to bunsen (iii. ), and setting aside pu-an-ku, the primeval man who came out of the mundane egg and lived eighteen thousand years, and who has resemblances with the assyrian ra and ana, and the egyptian ra, the son of ptha (to whom thirty thousand are allotted, _vide infra_, p. - ), and sui-shin, "who discovered fire," and who is the counterpart of prometheus (_vide_ p. ). regarding pu-an-ku, the cosmical, and sui-shin, as the mythical tradition of adam, we come to the historical tradition in the person of fohi. "i. fohi the great, the brilliant (tai-hao) cultivator of astronomy and religion, as well as writing. he reigned one hundred and ten years. then came fifteen reigns. ii. shin-nong (divine husbandman); institution of agriculture; the knowledge of simples applied as the art of medicine." [compare pp. - , saturn, bacchus, Æsculapius.] "iii. hoang-ti (great ruler) came to the throne in consequence of an armed insurrection (new dynasty), and was obliged to put down a revolt. _in his reign_ the magnetic needle was discovered; _the smelting of copper for making weapons_;[ ] vases of high art, and money; improvement in the written character, said to be borrowed from the lines on the tortoise-shell. it consists of five hundred hieroglyphics, of which two hundred can still be pointed out. he established fixed habitations throughout his dominions, and the astronomical cycle of sixty years _in the sixty-first year of his reign_ (_vide supra_, ); musical instruments. it was in his time also that the fabulous bird sin appeared. the empire was considerably extended to the _southward_."--_bunsen_, . [ ] this tradition would seem to confirm bryant's ("mythology," iii. ) conjecture that hoang-ti was ham. but hoang-ti as ham, may absorb and incorporate, as we have seen in other instances, the history of his progenitors; and, moreover, whether he is noah or ham, would scarcely affect the chronological argument. if we take fohi as adam, the fifteen reigns which follow will bear analogy with "the fifteen generations of the cynic cycle" (_vide_ palmer i. p. , - ; also _vide infra_), and will correspond to the thirteen generations, viz. the ten antediluvian, and the three survivors (excluding noah) of the deluge in the egyptian chronology (_vide infra_). shin-nong, "the divine husbandman," will be noah, and hoang-ti, shem or ham, or else the two will be reduplicate traditions of noah. compare the attributions of hoang-ti with those of hoa in the assyrian tradition, p. . certain statements regarding him--_e.g._ that he suppressed an insurrection, accord more nearly with epithets applied to nin, the fish-god, whom i have considered a duplicate of hoa (p. ), _e.g._ "the destroyer of enemies,"--"the reducer of the disobedient,"--"the exterminator of rebels." compare with the phoenician tradition, p. , of saturn causing the destruction of his son sadid by the deluge. the appearance of the fabulous bird sin, seems a reminiscence of the birds sent out of the ark, which is so frequent in tradition. compare the mystery bird (the dove) in the mandan ceremonies,--the worship of the pigeon in cashmere,[ ] &c. other coincidences might be pointed if space allowed. [ ] on the worship of the pigeon in cashmere, _vide_ "travels in kashmir," by g. g. vigne, esq., f.g.s., ii. p. , . . but analogous to the double tradition of the deluge in assyria in the persons of hoa and nin; and, again, by a distinct channel of tradition in xisuthrus (_vide_ pp. , ), as in china, there seems to have been a similar reduplication in china in their kings hoang-ti and yao or yu.[ ] [ ] the reduplication may have occurred in this way. hoang-ti being noah, yao or yu may have been his descendant under whom they settled in china at the termination of their migration. this is confirmed by bunsen's view, iii. (iv. and v.) in which case it would not be at all unnatural to suppose that the traditions appertaining to the remote progenitor, would in time settle down upon the head of the actual founder. chevalier de paravey (_vide_ gainet, i. ), "a trouvé un hieroglyphe chinois qui nomme la femme de hoang-ti 'adamon' terre jaune, et si non signifie celle qui entraîne les autres dans son propre mal." this would merely be the confusion between noah and adam which we have seen to occur in almost every instance. is not the japanese god amida = adima, or perhaps to adamon--_i.e._, confused in relationship to hoang-ti or noah? what confirms the impression is, that adima's son is canon. query, chanaan. now under this yao or yu, according to chinese tradition (preserved, moreover, in the inscription of yu), there happened the deluge, or a deluge. but as there is a confusion between hoang-ti and yao, so there is between yao and yu. bunsen, however, admits these latter to be identical. but although bunsen asserts the authenticity of the inscription (as also does klaproth), he utterly scouts the idea that it is a tradition of the deluge, and maintains that it is itself evidence of a local inundation. let us see. "all the confusion or ignorance," says bunsen ( ), "of the missionaries [in this matter], arises from their believing that this event referred to the flood of noah, which never reached this country." and (p. ), he says the inundation in the reign of yao had just as much to do with noah's flood as the dams he created, and the canals he dug, had to do with the ark. this is said with reference to the "short chinese account of it published by klaproth," viz.-- "in the sixty-first year of the reign of the emperor yao, serious mischief was caused by inundations. the emperor took counsel with the great men of the empire, who advised him to employ kuen to drain off the water. kuen was engaged upon it for nine years without success, and was condemned to be imprisoned for life. his son yu was appointed in his stead. at the end of nineteen years he succeeded in stopping the inundation, and made a report to the emperor upon the subject." let us turn, however, from this later gloss to the inscription itself, translated by bunsen, p. -- "the emperor said, 'oh thou governor of the four mountains of the empire! the swelling flood is producing mischief; it spreads itself far and wide; it surrounds the hills, it overflows the dams; rushing impetuously along it rises up to heaven: the common people complain and sigh.'" --_vide supra_, p. . "the venerable emperor exclaimed with a sigh, 'ho assistant counsellor! the islands great and small up to the _mountain's top_; the door of _the birds_ and of beasts, all is overflowed together-- is swamped: be it thy care to open the way, to let off the water.'" he then says:-- "my task is completed; my _sacrifice_ i have offered in the second month, trouble is at an end, the dark destiny is changed; the _streams_ of the south flow down to the sea; garments are prepared; food is provided; _all the nations_ have rest; the people enjoy themselves with gambols and dancing."--(compare commemorative festivals, _infra_, p. ). i should have thought that all these phrases pointed much more to a universal deluge than to a local inundation. but bunsen says ( )-- "the fact is fully proved both by the inscription and the work of yu itself. the inscription was on the _top_ of the mountain, yu-lu-fun, in the district of shen-shu-lu. owing to its having become illegible in early times, it was removed to _the top_ of an adjoining mountain." ... "the former _locality_ tallies exactly with the very interesting description of the empire in the time of yu, which we find at the opening of the second book of the shuking." and bunsen concludes, "it may be presumed after this verification, that in future nobody will seriously doubt the strictly epic description of the shuking in the canon of yu," as above. so far from being impressed by the discovery of the monument on the top of the local mountain, as evidence of the local deluge, i can see in it only a memorial of the universal deluge localised; and i cannot help considering it in connection with the worship of the tops of mountains, of which we shall find traces elsewhere (p. - ). surely baron bunsen proves too much, and describes to us a deluge which must have been on the scale of the universal deluge for all countries below the level of the mountain yu-lu-fun. but, let it be said, that this description, so accordant with the description of the flood, was merely chinese exaggeration. i here wish to point out two curious coincidences. what if we shall find works similar of those to yao or yu, ascribed to the original founders in egypt and cashmere? as in the first instance, i shall have to quote from baron bunsen himself, i am surprised that the coincidence should have escaped his observation. "this is the account given of menes [the first king of egypt] by herodotus--menes, the first king of egypt, as the priests informed me, protected memphis by a dam against the river which ran towards the sandy chain of the libyan mountains. about stadia above memphis, he made an embankment against the bend of the river, which is on the south side. the effect of this was to dry up its ancient bed, as well as to force the stream between the two chains of mountains. this bend of the nile, which is confined within the embankment walls, was very carefully attended to by the persians, and repaired every year. for, if the river were to burst through its banks and overflow at this point, all memphis would be in danger of being swamped. menes, _the oldest of their kings_, having thus drained the tract of land by means of the dyke, built upon it the city now called memphis, which lies in the mountain valley of egypt. to the west and north he dug a lake round it, which communicates with the river--on the east it is bounded by the nile--and afterwards erected in it a temple to vulcan, a splendid edifice, deserving of especial notice" (ii. ). bunsen fully endorses this account--"herodotus, therefore, has recorded the following fact, that before the time of menes the nile overflowed the tract of country which he fixed upon as the site of his new metropolis" (p. and p. ). "there is no foundation whatever for andriossy's hypothesis that the story originated in the fact of the nile having once run westward from the pyramid mountains to bahr bela ma (stream without water) and the natron and mareotic lakes. herodotus mentions an historical fact, and describes the work of an historical king. andriossy's hypothesis, if well founded, would belong to geology." a sagacious and well-founded remark on the part of baron bunsen, but, as i submit, equally applicable to the work of yao or yu. merely noting that, if the above work was really carried out by menes, and it would have been, from the point of view of genesis, so carried out at a period contemporary with that of yao or yu--and, moreover, conceding to it in any case (i mean the work of menes) a certain historical basis--let us dispassionately compare both with the passage from klaproth, which i shall now extract. it is taken from the sanscrit history of cashmere.[ ] [ ] klaproth says:--"the only sanscrit history deserving the name of the chronicle of the kings of kashmir, radja paringin'i, translated by w. h. wilson."--_klaproth, mem. relatif à l'asie_. klaproth says:-- "the _hindoo_ history of kashmir assures us that the beautiful valley which forms this kingdom was originally a vast lake, called satisaras. this account is also agreeable to the _local traditions_ of this country. it was kasy'apa, _a holy person_ who, according to the hindoo historians, caused the waters which covered this valley to escape. he was the son of _marichi_, the son of brahma. the mahometan writers call him kachef or kacheb, and many of them pretend that he was a god, or a genius, and servant of soliman, _under whose orders he effected_ the drying up of kashmir. to execute _this task_ he made, near baramanleh, _a passage across the mountains_, through which the water passed.... the territory, recovered in this way by kasy'apa, _was also peopled_ by this holy man, with the assistance of the superior gods, whom he brought for this purpose from heaven, _at the commencement_ of the seventh manwantara, or that in which we are now." klaproth adds:--"we must therefore suppose that kashmir has been subjected to the same periodical revolutions as the other parts of the world, if we would reconcile this date with the ordinary chronology."[ ] [ ] compare the following account of existing customs in cashmir with the above extract from klaproth and ch. xi., with commemorative festivals of the deluge. mr g. g. vigne ("travels in kashmir," ii. ) says:--"what has been poetically termed the feast of roses, has of late years been rather the feast of signaras or _water_-nuts. it is held, i believe, about the st may, when plum-trees and roses are in full bloom, and is called the shakergal, from the persian shakergan, to blow a blossom [the mandan ceremony took place when the willow flowered.--catlin, p. ]. the richer classes come in _boats_ to the foot of the tukt, ascend it, and have a feast upon _the summit_, eating more particularly of signaras (_water_-nuts). the feast of the no-warh (new place) takes place at the vernal equinox [compare noah, taurus], at _which period_ the _valley is said to have been drained_. it is held chiefly at the _but_ or idol stone on hari par_but_." query--can this be "the ark or big canoe" in the mandan celebration? considering the prominence of boats in all these mysteries, and considering the resemblance of but to boat, and the like analogies in so many languages (sanskrit, pota = boat) (_vide_ vicomte d'anselme, _infra_, p. ), may we be permitted the conjecture until corrected. compare also p. , ogilby's "japan," cook. &c., p. . it must, i think, be conceded that we have now before us three very similar accounts of works undertaken with reference to the reclamation of inundated land. all are undertaken by the first founders of their respective kingdoms--kingdoms widely separated and inhabited by people of diverse race--and all, more or less, contemporaneously. the egyptians and kashmerian have points in common as to their mode of reclamation, whilst the chinese and kashmerian have still more in common with the narrative in genesis.[ ] [ ] i have since found this identical tradition (_vide_ p. ) among the mozca indians. "boshicha," it is said, "taught them _to build and to sow_, formed them _into communities_, gave an outlet to the waters of the great lake, &c." this seems demonstratively to prove, either that the mozca indians (south america) came from china, india, or egypt--which i have contended for at p. --or else, which makes the argument i have in hand stronger, they have transmitted an identical tradition by a different channel. four solutions occur to me as possible. either they were obscure or perverted traditions of the deluge, or their works were traditions of similar works effected by noah after the deluge; or these works were actually carried out upon the precedent and model of similar works effected by noah; or they were fortuitous coincidences. upon either of the three former conclusions, it will be shown that traditions of the deluge, direct or indirect, exist both in egypt and china, where it has been so confidently asserted that no tradition is to be found; and in the latter case, what is more especially to my purpose, a tradition which brings yao into relation with noah and hoang-ti. in conclusion, i must remark that when it is urged that there is no tradition, or but slight tradition, of the flood in egypt, we have a right to reply that there is no country where we should have so little reason to expect it. if there is any country where we should think it likely that the reminiscences of the deluge would be effaced, it would be in a country periodically subject to inundations, where the people are annually made familiar with its incidents, and where its recurrence is not to them a cause of alarm, but a matter of expectation and joy.[ ] [ ] "the chinese _who migrated before the deluge (sic)_ have no reminiscences, any more than the egyptians, of the great catastrophe which we know by the name of the flood of noah" (bunsen's "egypt," iii. ). palmer ("egypt. chron.," i. p. ) says, with reference to a certain date--"this is only for such as know the true date of the flood, the end of the old world--an epoch by no means to be named, nor even directly alluded to, by any egyptian." chapter v. _chronology from the point of view of science._ although the testimony of history is definite and decisive as to the chronology of the world, within the limits of a few hundred years, there is a general assumption, in all branches of scientific inquiry, that man must have existed many thousand years beyond the period thus assigned to him. lyell speaks of "the vastness of time"[ ] required for his development, and bunsen, as we have seen, requires twenty thousand years, at least, between the deluge and the nativity of our lord: and wherefore this discrepancy? because of a fundamental assumption--not merely hypothetical for the convenience of inquiry--but confident and absolute; an assumption which, so far as the argument is concerned, is the very matter in dispute--that man must have progressed and developed to the point at which we see him. [ ] "principles of geology," tenth edition, , ii. p. . at the same time, the actual chronology cannot be altogether ignored, and some cognisance must be taken of the facts which history presents to us; and it is this unfortunate exigency, interrupting the placid course of development, which not unfrequently lands scientific inquirers of the first eminence in difficulties from which it will take an indefinite lapse of time to extricate them; _ex. gra._, bunsen, in his "egypt," iii. , says-- "it has been more than once remarked, in the course of this work, that the _connection between the chinese and the egyptians_ belongs, in several of its phases, to the _general history_ of the world. the chinese language is the furthest point beyond that of the formation of the egyptian language, which represents, as compared with it, the middle ages of mankind,--viz., the turanian and chamitic stages of development." the conclusion of philology (_vide_ also brace's "ethnology," p. ) is, therefore, that the turanian or chamitic grew out of the more inorganic and elementary chinese. now, let us compare lyell's conclusions with bunsen's. lyell equally believes ("principles of geology," ii. ) "that three or four thousand years is but a _minute fraction_ of the time required to bring about such wide divergence from a common parent stock, 'as between' the negroes and greeks and jews, mongols and hindoos, represented on the egyptian monuments." at the same time, he endorses sir john lubbock's view, and pronounces, upon what appears to me very light and insufficient grounds (ii. ), that "the theory, therefore, that the savage races have been degraded from a previous state of civilisation _may be rejected_:" and by implication that the civilised races have progressed from the savage state may be affirmed.[ ] [ ] the ground upon which lyell pronounces this judgment is (ii. ) "that no fragment of pottery has been found among the nations of australia, new zealand, and the polynesian islands any more than ancient architectural remains, in all which respects, these rude men now living, resemble the men of the palæolithic age; when pottery is known to all, it is always abundant, and, though easy to break, is difficult to destroy. it is improbable that so useful an art should ever have been lost by any race of man." the argument is strongly put, but many things are left out of consideration. supposing the primitive knowledge, is not pottery one of the arts which would be most likely to be lost in a migration across the seas? again, that they had no pottery, and that the palæolithic age had no pottery, shows that in the interval there had been no progress. when will there be? as to the circumstance that it is the same among the australians and polynesians, the fact cuts both ways. you assume that there is a uniformity in progress, but may not there be the same uniformity in the processes of degradation? and, assuming the fact, may it not simply prove that these savages have reached the same depth as the other savages?--_vide_ appendix to ch. xii. i have, then, only to assume one point that sir c. lyell will concede, the order of progress or development to have been from black to white, and that he will pay us the compliment of being the more favoured race. but of all the races that are akin to the mongol or turanian, the chinese are the whitest, and most nearly approach the european in colour. how many years, then, may we suppose that it took the chinese to progress from the black state of the egyptian? as many, let us conjecture, as it took the egyptian to progress linguistically from the state of the chinese or mongol! this is one instance of the entanglement in which the theory of progress, pure and simple, from a parent stock will involve us. the obvious mode of escape would be to deny the unity of the human race, a conclusion which would at once land us in the darkness of a still lower abyss, and convert our processes from being scientific in form and hopeful of result, into empirical and aimless conjectures. for either the theory is started that the various races of mankind were created separately, in which case we fly into the face of the only account we have of creation, and also of the multiform testimonies which history and science bring to attest this truth, and we, moreover, debar ourselves from falling back upon any uniform theory applicable to the whole human race; or if, without advertence to creation, we suppose mankind to have been variously developed, here again we shall equally find ourselves cut off from the application of any uniform historical theory, equally unable to account for or to exclude the testimony of history, and in the end reduced to the evidences, whatever they may be worth, of certain real or fancied analogies.[ ] at this point, the historical inquiry will be virtually abandoned, and the records of the past merged in the phenomena of life, will be considered only in the light of some pantheistic or materialistic theory, or, so far as it is distinguishable, of some theory of evolution. [ ] the following passage from m. a. bastian's article in _the academy_, june , , "on the people of india," seems to me to afford an illustration in point--"the natural system becomes an indispensable necessity in every science, so soon as it is clearly seen that the question is not of classification, but of observation of, and insight into, law. classification was long held to be the sole end, instead of being merely or mainly the means of study. as, in this respect, systematic botany gave place to vegetable physiology, so, in like manner, ethnology will have to look upon its classification of race--with which the school books hitherto have been almost exclusively occupied--as merely a preliminary step towards a physiology of mankind, and to _a science of the laws_ which _govern its spiritual growth_." now, if no physiology of mankind, in the sense here intended, can be traced, and if "the science of the laws which govern its spiritual growth" (_vide infra_, an exposition of mr baring gould's theory) has come to no definite conclusion, then the only result, as far as science is concerned, will have been the revolutionising of its classifications, and the classifications of the different races of men (and, in so far as they have been accurately ascertained, their confusion will be matter of regret) is the legitimate and ultimate end of ethnology under normal conditions. i am no longer concerned with any of these theories the moment they discard the historical element; and i shall, accordingly, return to the theory of sir john lubbock, which is honestly based upon it. when all is said, i cannot make out that sir john adduces any argument in favour of the antiquity of the human race which does not resolve itself into the contrast between our civilisation and the degradation of savages; and that the time which must have elapsed to bring about this transformation is measured by the fact that the negro, of the "true nigritian stamp," appears upon the egyptian monuments, at least as far back as b.c. . "historians, philologists, and physiologists have alike admitted that the short period allowed in archbishop usher's chronology could hardly be reconciled with the history of some eastern nations, and that it did not leave room _for the development either of_ the different languages or of the numerous physical peculiarities by which various races of men are distinguished."[ ] as no facts in the history of eastern nations are adduced, i shall consider that this part of the argument has been sufficiently disposed of in the preceding chapters, and if they had been adduced, i venture to think that they would have been interpreted by the latter part of the sentence, and would have been incompatible with the chronology, only because they did not allow sufficient time "for the development," &c. of this sort of fact, i admit, nothing stronger can be adduced than the case of the negro on the egyptian monuments, only i wish to direct attention to the different aspect these facts will bear when the theory of progress is not assumed as an infallible proposition. moreover, as mr poole, whom sir j. lubbock very candidly quotes, points out, in the interval between this and b.c. we do not find "the least change in the negro or the arab; and even the type which seems to be intermediate between them, is virtually as unaltered. those who consider that length of time can change a type of man, will do well to consider the fact that three thousand years give no ratio on which a calculation could be founded." so that if arch. usher had expanded his chronology so as to take in the twenty thousand years bunsen requires, it really would not appreciably have affected the argument. sir j. lubbock, indeed, says (p. )--"i am, however, not aware that it is supposed by any school of ethnologists that 'time' alone, without a change of external conditions, will produce an alteration of type." "let us," he continues, "turn now to the instances relied on by mr crawford. the millions, he says, of african negroes that have, during three centuries, been transported to the new world and its islands, are the same in colour as the present inhabitants of the parent country of their forefathers. the creole spaniards ... are as fair as the people of arragon and andalusia. the pure dutch creole colonists of the cape of good hope, after dwelling two centuries among black caffres and yellow hottentots, do not differ in colour from the people of holland." [the strongest case is, perhaps, that of the american indians, who do not vary from a uniform copper colour in north or south--in canada or on the line.][ ] in these instances, sir j. lubbock says:--"we have great change of circumstances, but a very insufficient lapse of time, and, in fact, there is no well authenticated case [he does not, however, advert to the case of the indians, which seems to satisfy both conditions] in which these two requisites are united," ... and adds, "there is already a marked difference between the english of europe and the english of america;" but is full allowance made here for admixture of race? and, also, is his instance to the point? is not the difficulty rather that, whereas climate, food, change of circumstances have (for, i think, the balance of the argument is on that side), in many ways, modified other races (though whether to the extent of destroying the characteristic type, may be open to question), the negro has resisted these influences, and has remained the same negro that we find him b.c.? consider that it is only a question of degree, and that it is merely true that the negro has resisted these influences more persistently than other races.[ ] still the contrast is not the less startling when we find the negro in the same relative position, and with the same stamp of inferiority, that we find indelibly impressed upon him four thousand years ago? it is a case which neither the theory of progress, nor the theory of degeneracy, seems to touch. [ ] sir j. lubbock's "prehistoric times," p. . [ ] it has almost passed into a proverb, says morton--who is among those who know the americans best--that he who has seen one indian tribe has seen them all, so closely do the individuals of this race resemble each other, whatever may be the variety or the extent of the countries they inhabit." reusch's "la bible et la nature," _vide_ also card. wiseman's "lect. on science and rev. rel." lect. iv., _vide_, however, reusch, p. , where "a remarkable difference in the cranium" is noticed, "sometimes approaching the malay, sometimes the mongol shape." [ ] that the negro has undergone modifications, seems established by the fact that we nowhere find all the characteristics of the negro united in any one case--unless, perhaps, in the case of the negroes of guinea, to which i have alluded. yet, in the people who border them, there has been noticed "un retour vers des formes superieures." the yoloss, "out le front élevé, des machoires peu saillantes, leurs dents sont droites, et ils sont en général bein constitués, _mais ils sont tout à fait noirs_. leurs voisins, les mandingues, tiennent beaucoup plus du type négre ... mais leur teint est beaucoup moins noir."--de bur. ap. reusch, p. . but under no influences of climate has the negro ever become white like the european, or the european black like the inhabitant of guinea; if they become darker, "c'est simplement la teint particulier à leur race qui gagne en intensité."--burminster, ap. reusch, p. . but it is a case which de maistre's view exactly solves. now, however much we may rebel against de maistre's theory, that the early races of mankind were endowed with higher and more intuitive moral faculties than ours, and, whether or not, we accept his _dictum_ that great punishments pre-suppose great knowledge, and reversely, that higher knowledge implies the liability to great punishments, i do not see how we can refuse to consider the matter, so far as to see whether the view solves all the difficulties of the question. it is not the first time that the blackness of the african race has been connected in theory with a curse; but de maistre's theory throws a new light on the malediction--whether it be the curse of cham or of chanaan, or whether both were smitten, according to different degrees of culpability: and i maintain, further, that it is adequate to the explanation of the phenomena, that it does not clash with history, and that it is sustained by tradition. nevertheless, i apprehend that this view will be as much combated from the point of view of scriptural exegesis, as of scientific speculation. yet the curse of cham, or of chanaan, affecting all their posterity, ought not in reason to be more revolting even to those who have never realised what sin is, than the narrative of the fall of adam and eve with its direful consequences. the theory seems perfectly conformable to scripture, and to what we know of the secrets of the divine judgments. the picture of cham, or chanaan, stricken with blackness, does not present a more sudden or more terrible retribution to the mind than the fall of the angels. how many thousand years did it take to transform lucifer into satan? or the primitive adam into the adam feeling shame, and conscious of decay, want, and the doom of death? on the other hand, blackness, from the commencement, has been associated with evil. to this it may be replied that this is the sentiment merely of the white races--a natural prejudice of colour, an _ex parte_ deduction; and to this argument, if such is the view really taken by the black races, and if no consciousness can be detected of their degradation amongst themselves, i see no other reply than this, that since, _ex hypothesi_, they are black because they are cursed, the tradition of this curse would be more naturally preserved by the white races than by the black. but is there no consciousness of this inferiority in the true negro? without looking at the matter from the same point of view, i may appeal to captain burton's statements on this point as to a fully competent, if not the highest, authority that can be quoted on points of african travel. in the first place, he notices "the confusion of the mixed and the mulatto with the full-blooded negro. by the latter word i understand the various tribes of intertropical africa, unmixed with european or asiatic blood" ("dahome," ii. ); and p. , "i have elsewhere given reasons for suspecting, in the great kafir family, a considerable mixture of arab, persian, and other asiatic blood:" and as to the particular point in question, he says (p. ), "the negro will obey a white man more readily than a mulatto, and a mulatto rather than one of his own colour. he never thinks of claiming equality with the aryan race except when taught. at whydat, the french missionaries remark that their scholars always translate 'white and black by master and slave.'" p. , "one of mr prichard's few good generalisations is, that as a rule the darker and dingier the african tribe, the more degraded is its organisation."[ ] i find a very similar testimony in crawford's "hist. of the indian archipelago," i. . he says, "the brown and negro races of the archipelago may be considered to present, in their physical and moral characters, a complete parallel with the white and negro races in the western world. the first has always displayed as great a relative superiority over the second, as the race of white men have done over the negroes of the west." yet at p. he says, "the javanese, who live most comfortably, are among the darkest people in the archipelago, the wretched dyaks, or cannibals of borneo, among the fairest." it must be noted, however, that the javanese have also preserved something of primitive tradition--_e.g._ their marriage ceremony. and, moreover, it is not at all essential to the argument to prove that the negroes are the _most degraded_ race. let it be said that they have had their curse, and that the sign of the curse is in their blackness--this is merely equivalent to saying that they are cursed _pro tanto_; but it by no means follows that other races have not fallen to lower depths, and incurred a deeper reprobation.[ ] [ ] captain burton (ii. ) also quotes a catholic and a protestant missionary as to this point. m. wallon says, "avec leur tendance à nous considérer comme réellement supérieurs à eux, et leur croyance que cette supériorité nous est acquise par celle de notre dieu, ils renonceraient bientôt aux leurs idoles pour adorer celui qui nous leur prions de connaître." mr dawson says, "fetish has been strengthened by the white man, whom the ignorant blacks would not scruple to call a god if he could avoid death." assuming the identity of bacchus and noah, it is a striking circumstance, from this point of view, that the name of _bacchus_, among the phoenicians, was a synonymous term for mourning.--_vide hesychius in bryant's "mythology,"_ ii. ; _vide also the verses of theocritus_. comp. p. , _note_ (boulanger). [ ] perhaps captain burton's phrase (ii. ), "the _arrested_ physical development of the negro," may, if extended to his mental development, exactly hit the truth, the standard being fixed by the age at which we conceive the boy chanaan's development to have been _arrested_.--comp. _wallace, infra_, p. ; comp. . among the sioux indians, and in the isle of tonga (oceanica), i find trace of the tradition of blackness as a curse, and i should think it likely that other instances might be discovered. the former (the sioux), in their reminiscences of the deluge, relate, "the water remained on the earth only two days (for the two months during which the scripture says it was at its height), at the expiration of which the master of life, seeing that they had need of fire, sent it them by a white crow, which, stopping to devour carrion, allowed the fire to be extinguished. he returned to heaven to seek it. the great spirit drove it away, and punished it by _striking it black_."--"_annales de la prop. de la foi_," l. iv. ; gainet, i. . in tonga, the tradition is connected with this history of cain:-- "the god tangaloa,[ ] who first inhabited this earth, is this adam. he had two sons, who went to live at boloton.... the younger was very clever. tonbo (the eldest) was very different; he did nothing but walk about, sleep, and covet the works of his brother. one day he met his brother out walking, and knocked him down. then their father arrived at boloton, and in great anger said, 'why has thou killed thy brother. fly, wretched man; fly. _your race shall be black_, and your soul depraved; you shall labour without success. begone; you shall not go to the land of your brother, but your brother shall come sometimes to trade with you.' and he said to the family of the victim, 'go towards the great land; your skin shall be white; you shall excel in all good things.'"--_gainet_, i. .[ ] [ ] "annales de philos. chret.," t. xiii. p. . [ ] the expressions in the latter part of this narration recall the blessing of jacob, and suggests the possibility of the tradition having come through descendants of esau. cardinal wiseman (in his "science and revealed religion," lect. iii.), says, with reference to aristotle's distribution of mankind into races by colour:-- "there is a passage in julius firmicus, overlooked by the commentators of aristotle, which gives us the same ternary division, with the colours of each race. 'in the first place,' he writes, 'speaking of the characters and colours of men, they agree in saying,--if by the mixed influence of the stars, the characters and complexions of men are distributed; and if the course of the heavenly bodies, by a certain kind of artful painting, form the lineaments of mortal bodies; that is, if the moon makes men white, mars red, _and saturn black_, how comes it that in ethiopia all are born black, in germany white, and in thrace red?'"--_astronomicon_, lib. i., c. i., ed. basil. , p. . now this passage seems to me to have a still further significance in the words i have italicised, with reference to the argument i have in hand. it transpires, therefore, that the ancients had the notion that saturn made men black, which provoked the natural query, why then are only the ethiopians black? that it should ever have been supposed that the distant saturn, astronomically regarded, should have had such an influence is preposterous, but if the mythological personage, saturn, ch. x., has been sufficiently identified with noah, and the deification of the hero in the planet (comp. pp. , ) probable, the notion that _he made men black_, must be the tradition of the event we are considering. i have elsewhere traced the fulfilment of the text which says that canaan shall be the "servant of servants to his brethren;" but as the following extract from klaproth, in evidence of the same, has also its significance with reference to the point i am now considering--viz. the curse of blackness--i prefer to give it a place here:--"sakhalian oudehounga est expliqué en chinois par 'khian chéon,' et par 'li chu,' ce qui signifie les '_têtes noires_' et le '_peuple noir_,' expression par laquelle on designe la 'bas peuple' ou les 'paysans.' cette une expression _usitée dans plusieures pays asiatiques ainsi qu'en russie."--klaproth, "mem. relatif a l'asie;" vide strictures on pere amyot's "mandchou dict_." in the oldest books of the zendavasta, virtue and vice are personified as white and black. "the contrast between good and evil is strongly and sharply marked in the gâthâs.... they go a step further and personify the two parties to the struggle. one is a 'white,' or holy spirit (_spentô mainyus_), and the other, a 'dark' spirit (_angrô mainyus_). but this personification is merely poetical or metaphysical, not real."--_rawlinson's "ancient monarchies_," iii. p. . the contrast, however, between good and evil, as white and black was the genuine expression of their idea or tradition. (hung. ap. bunsen, iii. p. , admits, at least in one instance in the gâthâs, "an angra ('black') is put in opposition to the white, or more holy spirit.") mr hunter ("rural bengal," p. ) says of the primitive aryans in india--"the ancient singer praises the _god_ who 'destroyed the dasyans and protected the _aryan colour_" (rig. veda., iii. pp. - ), and "the thunderer, who bestowed on his white friends the fields," &c. whatever obscurity may attach to the latter passage, there can be no doubt of the abhorrence with which the singers speak, _again_ and _again_, of "_the black skin_," ... _e.g._ "the sacrificer poured out thanks to his god for 'scattering the _slave_ bands of _black descent_.'" although i believe the idea was traditional and had reference to the curse, i will concede that it might have arisen primarily in the contrast of night and day, light and darkness. but does this settle the question? on the contrary, fortified with this explanation, i return to my argument with those, who say that blackness is a mere prejudice of race, and that it is not demonstrable that it is the sign of a curse, or the mark of inferiority. does not nature herself proclaim it, in her contrast of light and darkness? day and night, i imagine, would be recognised as apt symbols of error and evil as opposed to truth and goodness, even among the black races, irrespective of any consciousness or reminiscence of their degradation. accordingly, the deeds of evil in scripture are spoken of as the "works of darkness." it may be, therefore, that the idea of blackness as a curse is derived primitively from its association with the darkness of night; but the fact remains that blackness is connected in our minds with a curse,[ ] and there is the further fact that a black race exists, and has existed during four thousand years, with this mark of inferiority upon it (compare _sup._ ch. iii. ix.) [ ] this is so much in tradition as to be a matter of common parlance--for instance, when the late emperor of the french is depicted, this is the language which, upon a certain construction, appears most natural--"on the other side stands a phalanx of satirists, represented by victor hugo. the only colour on the palette of those artists is _lamp black_. morally they paint the ex-emperor as _dark as a negro_, array him _in the livery of the devil_, and _then_ invoke the _execration_ of history."--_spectator_, sept. th, . but a point of some difficulty remains to be determined--viz. what precisely was the race which came under this ban. was it the whole descent of ham, or only the posterity of chanaan ? hales, in his learned work on chronology (i. p. ), discusses this question. he says that, whereas-- "even the most learned expositors (bochart and mede) have implicitly adopted the appropriation of the curse of servitude to ham and his posterity." yet "the integrity of the received text of prophecy, limiting the curse to 'canaan' singly, is fully supported by the concurrence of the massorite and samaritan hebrew texts, with _all the other_ ancient versions except the arabian; and is acknowledged, we see, by josephus and abulfaragi (_sup._), who evidently confine the curse to canaan--though they inconsistently consider ham as the offender, and are not a little embarrassed to exempt him and _the rest of his children_[ ] from the operation of the curse--an exemption, indeed, attested by sacred and profane history; for ham himself had his full share of earthly blessings, his son misr colonised egypt, thence styled the land of ham (ps. cv. ), which soon became one of the earliest, most civilised, and flourishing kingdoms of antiquity, and was established before abraham's days (gen. xii. - ), and in the glorious reign of sesostris ... while ham's posterity, in the line of cush, not only founded the first assyrian empire, under nimrod, but also the persian (?), the grecian (?), and the roman (?) empires, in direct contradiction to the unguarded assertion of mede [that 'there hath never yet been a son of ham that hath shaken a sceptre over the head of japheth.'] how, then, is the propriety of the curse exclusively to canaan to be vindicated?--evidently by considering him as the only guilty person ... upon the very ingenious conjecture of faber, that the 'youngest son' who offended was not ham, but canaan--not the son, but the grandson of noah. for the original, 'his little son,' according to the latitude of the hebrew idiom, may denote a grandson, by the same analogy that nimrod.... this (the former) interpretation is supported by ancient jewish tradition, 'boresith rabba,' sec. , recorded also by theodoret ... the tradition, indeed, also adds that ham joined in the mockery, but for this addition there seems no sufficient grounds." [ ] the italics are mine. there is, however, the tradition, and, moreover, a distinct tradition that ham was black. sir j. gardner wilkinson, in his "manners and customs of the ancient egyptians," i., says-- "the hebrew word ham is identical with the egyptian khem, being properly written khm, kham, or khem, and is the same which the egyptians themselves gave to their country in the sculptures of the earliest and latest periods" ( ). egypt was denominated chemi (khemi), or the land of ham, "as we find in the hieroglyphic legends; and the city of khem, or panopolis, was called in egyptian chemmo, of which evident traces are preserved in that of the modern town e'khmim" ( ). "besides the hieroglyphic group, composed of the two above alluded to ( ), indicating egypt, was one consisting of _an eye_, and the sign land, _which bore the same_ signification; and since _the pupil_, or _black_ of the eye, was called _chemi_, we may conclude this to be a phonetic mode of writing the name of egypt, which plutarch pretends was called chemmia, from the _blackness_ of its soil" ( ). "_chame_ is _black_ in _coptic_, egypt is _chemi_, and it is remarkable that _khom_ or _chom_ is used in hebrew for black or brown, as in gen. xxx. - ."--_id._ here then, at any rate, the name of ham or cham is curiously associated with blackness, and must have been so associated from the commencement of egyptian history. i leave it to the egyptologist to decide whether the presumption is stronger that the name of egypt, identical with that of ham, was originally derived from the blackness of its soil, or from the blackness of him whose name was identical with it ("the land of ham" being both the scriptural and egyptian appellation), more especially when "the eye" (apparently a personal or historical, not certainly a geographical allusion) was used as an equivalent hieroglyphic symbol for land.[ ] [ ] the eye would be the very most apposite symbol for blackness, if we consider that blackness lingers there after the skin has become white, and, in the case of half-breeds, is the test of descent in gradations even beyond, i believe, the octoroon. captain king ("narrative of a survey of the intertropical and western coasts of australia," ii. append.) says, "that although there is the greatest diversity of words among the australian tribes, the equivalent for 'eye' is common to them all." here, as in other instances, if we follow the strict lines of tradition, it seems to me that we shall escape all the difficulties which are usually alleged against it. it will result then that, although according to the text of scripture, the curse of servitude was limited to the posterity of chanaan; yet, seeing that the criminality was common to ham and chanaan, according to the tradition referred to, and as is, moreover, implied in the marked manner in which scripture (gen. xviii. ) indicates cham as "the father of chanaan," it is presumable that, if blackness was the concomitant of the curse, it extended to both ham and chanaan, and, by implication, to their posterity, but then _after the curse_. as chanaan, according to the tradition, was then a boy, all his children would have been affected by the curse; but does it follow that all ham's descent was involved in the malediction? this would be to suppose a retrospective curse, for which the only analogy would be the hypothesis that if adam had sinned after the birth of cain and abel, they and their posterity would also have incurred the guilt of original sin. now the sons of ham were (gen. x. ) "chus and mesram and phuth and chanaan," _i.e._, chus and mesram and phuth were the elder brothers of chanaan, and therefore not the children of ham after the pronouncement of the curse. if, then, we find the children of mesram dark, but without the negro features or the blackness of canaan; if "sesostris, his descendant, was a great conqueror;" if nimrod, the son of chus, was a powerful chieftain, and the founder of the assyrian empire; if nothing is known of the posterity of phuth beyond the conjecture that they were the lybians--in a word, if the descent from these three sons does not bear out the evidence of the curse, can it be said to militate at all against the hypothesis of the curse of ham as well as of canaan? moreover, if there are differences among the black races which may present difficulties, would not the knowledge that there may have been a posterity of ham, born after the curse,[ ] go far to remove them? hales, indeed, assumes that "ham himself had his full share of earthly blessings; his son misr colonised egypt," &c. (as _sup._); but this prosperity, as he indicates it, is only seen in the prosperity of his three sons, whom i assume to have been exempt from the curse. it must be remembered, however, that the occult science of the cainites was said to have been preserved by the family of ham, and, as we have seen, the taint was in the race.[ ] [ ] lenormant, "manuel d'histoire ancienne," i. , makes a similar suggestion as to this point--"la texte de la bible n'a rien qui s'oppose formellement à l'hypothèse que noè aurait eu, postérieurement au deluge, d'autres enfants que sem, cham, et japhet, d'où seraient sorties les races qui ne figurent pas dans la généalogie de ces trois personnages." but two objections seem to me to be fatal to this view. the races about whom this difficulty would be raised would be the red and black races: why should it be surmised that the supposed posterity of noah, after the deluge, _should_ have this mark of inferiority? in the second place, it does seem to be formally opposed to gen. x. --"these are the _families_ of _noe_, according to their peoples and nations. _by these_ were the nations divided on the earth after the flood." the red races might perhaps be accounted for by gen. xxv. - . [ ] there appears to me, however, a text to which attention might be directed. we know that the ethiopians were black, but in amos ix. , where god is expressing his anger against his people, he says, "are you not as the children of the ethiopians unto me, o children of israel, saith the lord." i am very far from claiming for these theories any special ecclesiastical countenance and authority. i have already intimated my opinion that, on the whole, they would be as much opposed from the point of view of scriptural exegesis as from that of unbelief. it will be said, for instance, that there is evidence in scripture of the curse of canaan, but no proof that blackness was the concomitant effect of the curse; and certainly it is not scripture which affirms this, but only tradition. to those who admit the curse, but deny the consequences which tradition attributes to it, i would oppose an almost identical argument with that which accounts for all differences in the human race by geographical location. i do not know where this argument is more forcibly put than in latham's "ethnology." there it is seemingly demonstrated that certain conditions, not merely of colour, but moral and intellectual, are the inseparable accompaniments of geographical location. grant it, _pro argumento_, but i am arguing now upon the scriptural evidence, and with one with whom i assume i have a common belief in its inspiration. it is true, then, that the curse of blackness is not recorded, but the distribution of the races is at least implied: deut. xxxii. , "_when the most high divided the nations, when he separated the sons of adam_, he appointed the bounds of people according to the number of the children of israel;" and acts xvii. , "and hath made of one all mankind, to dwell upon the _whole face_ of the earth, _determining appointed times_, and _the limits_ of _their habitation_." (the prot. version translates, "having appointed the _predetermined seasons_ and _boundaries of_ their dwellings." _vide_ hales's chron., i. , who adds that this was conformable to their own allegory "that chronos, the god of time, or saturn, divided the universe among his three sons.")[ ] [ ] _vide_ also ch. x., p. . the tradition that phoroneus, "the father of mankind," distributed the nations over the earth, _idem nationes distribuit_. if, then, the different races of mankind, according to their merits or demerits, were apportioned to, or miraculously directed or impelled to, respective portions of the earth, which necessarily superinduced certain effects, is not the curse as apparent in its indirect operation as it would have been in its suddenness and directness? this consideration must, i think, bring those who raise scriptural difficulties against the theory to the admission that blackness was a sign of inferiority, and that certain races were either smitten with, or were predestined to, in consequence of culpability, this degradation. this, i admit, is no reply to those who argue from the evidence of the egyptian monuments. but the evidence from the monuments, so far from embarrassing my conclusion, seems absolutely to enforce it. if, indeed, the evidence from the monuments did not stare one in the face, we might fall back upon the line of argument which i have just indicated, and whilst recognising in their blackness the operation of a curse, trace it in the lapse of centuries and the influences of the torrid zone. but they are recorded as being black on the earliest monuments known to us, and within a few centuries of the deluge. the conclusion, therefore, seems inevitable, that they were so from the commencement, which exactly hits in with the tradition of the curse of canaan. such, from his own point of view, is the conclusion of sir j. lubbock ("prehistoric times," p. )-- "if there is any truth in this view of the subject (p. ), it will necessarily follow that the principal varieties of man are of great antiquity, and, in fact, go back almost to the very origin of the human race. we may then cease to wonder that the earliest paintings on egyptian tombs represent so accurately several various varieties still existing in those regions, and that the engis skull, probably the most ancient yet found in europe, so closely resembles many that may be seen even at the present day." the following conclusion of mr wallace also exactly coincides with de maistre's view. lyell, in his "principles of geology" (ii. ) says-- "wallace suggests that at some former period man's corporeal frame must have been _more pliant and variable_ than _it is now_; for, according to the observed rate of fluctuation in modern times, scarcely any conceivable lapse of ages would suffice to give rise to such an amount of differentiation. he therefore concludes, that when first the _mental_ and _moral_ qualities of man acquired predominance, his bodily frame _ceased to vary_." but, although science in its own way may arrive at approximations to the truth, yet, if the traditional solution be true, assuredly it is not a solution which will be reached by any merely scientific process; and therefore, if it should be the truth, the ethnological difficulty will remain an enigma and embarrassment to the learned in all time to come. chapter vi. _palmer on egyptian chronology._ having probed the chronologies of india, babylonia, phoenicia,[ ] china, &c., and having found that one and all, when touched with the talisman of history, shrink within the limits of the septuagint, and even of the hebrew text, we come, perforce, to the conclusion, that there is one nation, and one only, which presents a _primâ facie_ antiquity irreconcileable with holy writ--viz. egypt. [ ] _vide ante_ ch. iv.; and also _vide_ palmer, i. . this impression is sustained by the knowledge, somewhat indefinite and in something disturbed, that the egyptian tradition had always attributed a fabulous antiquity to the dynasties of its kings, and that these dynasties have been marvellously resuscitated through the discovery which has enabled us to decipher the inscriptions on their tombs and monuments. my reader need not fear, however, lest i should plunge him into the chaos of hieroglyphics; not, indeed, that much has not been rescued from the abyss, and that there is not good expectation of more to come, but when once it is established, as we may now consider to be the case, that many of these dynasties were cotemporaneous, and not successive, an uncertainty is introduced which again reduces the chronology to primitive chaos, although floating objects in it, the _débris_ of tombs and dynasties, remain clearly distinguishable, and, in point of fact, have been perfectly identified. if we had no other evidence, i should feel irresistibly drawn to the dictum of m. mariette (ap. mgr. meignan, "l'homme primitif," p. ), "le plus grand de tous les obstacles à l'établissement d'une chronologie égyptienne regulière, c'est que les egyptiens eux-mêmes n'ont jamais eu de chronologie." i shall, on the contrary, from another point of view, attempt to show, not only that they had a chronology, but that this chronology has actually been re-discovered and re-constituted. in the conviction that this is the case, and that it is not sufficiently known that it is so, i shall devote some space to an abstract of mr william palmer's "egyptian chronicles" ( ), in which it appears to me that this exposition and solution is to be found. mr palmer at least has brought the egyptian chronology (upon the system of the old chronicle) to so close a reconciliation with scripture (upon the basis of a collation of the septuagint and josephus), that we have a right to compare any egyptologist making an attempt to advance into the interior to the monuments, whilst disregarding it, to a commander leaving an important fortress in his rear.[ ] as mr palmer takes his stand upon the old chronicle, and as the old chronicle has been in considerable disrepute with egyptologists (bunsen, i. ), i do not see that i can adopt a better plan of bringing the whole subject before the reader, than by confronting mr w. palmer's discovery and exposition with baron bunsen's strictures on the old chronicle. [ ] and yet, with the exception of professor rawlinson's "manual of ancient history," where mention is made of mr palmer's work as among eight principal works to be referred to on the subject of egyptian chronology, and of a series of articles in the _month_ on the same subject, i do not recollect to have seen allusion made to it. a previous perusal of the articles in the _month_ above referred to will greatly facilitate the study of this question. bunsen (i. - ) says (the italics are mine)-- "'the egyptians,' says syncellus, 'boast of a certain old chronicle, by which also, in my opinion, manetho (the impostor) was led astray.' ... the origin of this fiction is obvious. its object, as well as that of the pseudo-manetho, is to represent the great year of the world of , years, or twenty-five sothic cycles. the _timeless_ space of the book of sothis becomes the rule of vulcan.... _the number fixed for the other gods, , is quite original_; perhaps it may not be mere accident that it agrees with the computation of some chronographers for the period from the creation to b.c. the dynasty of the demigods reflects the same judicious moderation as in the scheme of the pseudo-manetho ( - / ). then comes a series of corruptions of the genuine manetho, _i.e._, of the manetho of the thirty historical egyptian dynasties. he is, however, confounded with the manetho of the dog-star, and hence it is that the fifteen dynasties of manetho are called the fifteen dynasties of the sothiac cycle. _but how is the number to be explained?_ is this entry to be understood in the same sense as the similar one in clemens, namely, that the first fifteen dynasties comprehended the years prior to the beginning of the last cycle, consequently prior to ? or is it simply taken, with a slight alteration by eusebius, to the fourteenth and fifteenth dynasties ( )? the following dates for the length of reigns are in the gross _evidently_ borrowed from eusebius.... in the sequel, there is no more reckoning by dynasties, but seventy-five generations are numbered, in order to make up the of manetho. so palpable is that,.... lastly, the dates and numbers ... are brought into shape by various arbitrary expedients; but eusebius on all occasions appears as the authority.... as the dates of the individual dynasties now run, years are wanting to make up the promised , years. _it is scarcely worth while to inquire where the mistake lies._" he finally pronounces the old chronicle to be the compilation of a jewish or christian impostor of the third century, or later. as mr palmer has not directly adverted to this passage from bunsen in his "egyptian chronicles," i will give an extract from a letter which i have received from mr palmer on the subject, which will clear off some of the tissues of confusion into which the strictures of baron bunsen have got entangled. "i assert, in the first instance (there being nothing whatever to the contrary), that we have the old chronicle in a _perfectly genuine form, i.e._ in the text of syncellus and africanus, but by no means in bunsen; and further, that it really is, and they from whom we have it _tell us it was_, the oldest greco-egyptian writing of the kind current in the time of africanus.... bunsen pronounces the old chronicle to be the compilation of a jewish or christian impostor of the third century ('eusebius appearing on all occasions as the authority,' &c.) in the _old chronicle_, as given by syncellus and africanus, there is _nothing whatever_ borrowed from eusebius; but eusebius has borrowed from and altered the old chronicle, so as to suit his own sacred chronology. the 'book of sothis,' too, has worked up and altered the old chronicle, with which it is by no means to be identified.... but i deal with three so-called manethos--viz. ( .) the original manetho of josephus and eratosthenes, who had only twenty-three historical dynasties of his total of thirty dynasties (the old chronicle, from which he took the number of thirty, having twenty-nine historical and one [that of the sun god] unhistorical); ( .) the manetho of ptolemy of mendes, which is the manetho of africanus, who has thirty-one dynasties, all pretending to be historical; and, lastly, the manetho of the 'book of sothis,' used by anianus and panadorus (to which last alone bunsen's ... mention of 'fifteen dynasties of the dog-star' refers).... if any figures in the manetho of the 'book of sothis' of the fifth century a.d., are borrowed from eusebius, there is nothing in this, eusebius himself having used and altered the old chronicle before, just as the author of the book of sothis or anianus may have used eusebius and the old chronicle. but i am not now dealing with the question of fact, whether eusebius' figures were so followed or not.... when bunsen says, 'perhaps it may not be mere accident that the figures agrees,' &c.; he should have said rather that some 'chronographers' 'agree' 'with it,' and perhaps so agree not by accident. i do not remember whether any one, or who in particular, of modern chronographers agree with it; but certainly if any do, it is _quite by accident_. the number , as given by the old chronicle to chronos and the other twelve gods, has no relation whatever to any reckoning of the year of the world to christ; and a chronologer might as well adapt his sum of years from the creation to christ, or to any other fanciful number, as to this. the truth is, that with the shorter numbers of the vulgate, many chronologers have made out sums of about four thousand years, some rather more, some less." in the somewhat lengthened extract which i have made (_sup._ p. ) from bunsen, _four_ figures ( , , , and ) will have struck the eye, which baffle even bunsen's penetration, and only make twice confounded what was confused before. but what if these four figures should all be accounted for? and, when accounted for, fitted into the chronology so as to be in keeping, not only with the other figures of the chronicle, but also with the systems of manetho and eratosthenes, as exactly as "the key fits the wards of the lock?" (_vide infra_, p. ), will not the matter begin to wear a different aspect? when the figures are shown to be imbedded in all the different systems which have been transmitted to us, will it then be said that the figures "are evidently borrowed from eusebius?" but, in fact, it is also demonstrated by internal evidence that the chronicle, as we have it, must be referred to the date b.c. this, then, is how the argument stands; but it is a matter of some difficulty to compass mr palmer's elaborate argument, and i cannot attempt to do more than to indicate its most salient points. premising that the sothic cycle (a period of vague, or fixed sidereal years) was connected by the egyptians with their recurring periods of transformation and renovation ("common to the mythologies of egypt and india"), and also that two such periods ( × ) = corresponded with the antediluvian period, or rather with the sum of the lives or reigns of the antediluvian patriarchs, inclusive of survivors of the deluge, with something added in order to throw the whole into cyclical form, all which is shown in detail in "egyptian chronicles," i. - , i may now proceed to mr palmer's analysis of the scheme of the old chronicle, which is thus given by syncellus, "probably from the manetho of africanus" (palmer's "egypt. chron.," i. ):-- "there is extant among the egyptians a certain old chronicle, the source, i suppose, which led manetho astray, exhibiting xxx dynasties and again cxiii generations, with an infinite space of time (not the same either as that of manetho), viz. three myriads, six thousand five hundred and twenty-five years-- st, of the aeritæ; dly, of the mestræans; and, dly, of the egyptians,--being word for word as follows:-- [dynasty i. to xv. inclusive of the chronicle of the gods]:-- time of phtha there is _none_, as he shines equally by night and by day [but all generations being from him] [first dynasty] [greek: hêlios] [_i.e._ ra, the sun-god], son of phtha, reigned three myriads of years, , then [dynasty ii. to xiv. inclusive, and generations ii. to xiv. inclusive] [greek: kronos] [or [greek: chronos], _i.e._ seb], and all the other xii gods [who are the aeritæ perhaps of eusebius and africanus], reigned years then [dynasty xv.] viii demigod kings [the mestræans of eusebius and africanus] reigned [as viii generations but one dynasty], years and after them xv generations _of the cynic cycle_ were registered in years then dynasty xvi. of tanites, generations viii, years then dynasty xvii. of memphites, generations iv, years of the same generations after whom there followed-- dynasty xviii. of memphites, generations xiv, years of the same generations then dynasty xix. of diospolites, generations v, years then dynasty xx. of diospolites, generations viii, years of the same generations then dynasty xxi. of tanites, generations vi, years then dynasty xxii. of tanites, generations iii, years then dynasty xxiii. of diospolites, generations ii, years of the same generations then dynasty xxiv. of saites, generations iii, years besides whom is to be reckoned-- dynasty xxv. of ethiopians, generations iii, years of the same generations after whom again there followed-- dynasty xxvi. of memphites, generations vii, years of the same generations and then after-- dynasty xxvii. [here the designation, generations, and years are purposely omitted; but the years are implied by the sum total, which follows below, to be certainly ] dynasty xxviii. of persians, generations v, years of the same generations then dynasty xxix. of tanites, generations , years and, lastly, after all the above-- dynasty xxx. of one tanite king, years ------ generations cxiii, years , sum of all the years of the xxx. dynasties, three myriads, six thousand five hundred and twenty-five (kings years)." these , years, when divided by , the sothic cycle (as noted by syncellus), give the quotient xxv. we need not digress into the conjectural reasons why twenty-five such periods were taken, rather than any other number. we will be content at starting to see in its relation to the cycle evidence of the purely fictitious character of its myriads of years, and a clue to the significance of the indication, "after them xv generations of the cynic cycle," &c. mr palmer (i. xxiii.) says, that the question which first suggested itself to him was-- "to what sothic cycle are these years or xv generations said to belong?" [for there was the doubt whether there was any _real_ sothic cycle at all.] "for a sothic cycle is not merely a space of egyptian years, but it is that particular space of such years, and that only, which begins from the conjunction of the movable new year or thoth, with the heliacal rising of sirius, fixed to th july of our gregorian calendar for that part of egypt which is just above memphis.... for the author of a chronicle ending with nectanebo, or at any date between the sothic epochs, th july b.c. (the known commencement of a cycle), and th july a.d. , 'the sothic cycle,' could only mean the cycle _actually_ current" [_i.e._ b.c. to a.d. = ].... "after this discovery, if the perception of a truism can be called a discovery, it followed naturally to observe further that in constructing a fanciful scheme ... ending at any other date than a true cyclical epoch, the first operation ... must be to _cut off all those years of the true current cycle_ which were yet to run out, below the date fixed upon, and to throw them back so that they might be reckoned _as past_ instead of being looked forward to as future. this, then, was what the author of the old chronicle had done; and, with an ironical humour common among the egyptians, he had told his readers to their faces the nature of his trick, ticketing and labelling the key to it (the years) and tying it in the lock, or rather leaving it in the lock itself." counting, then, back years of the "from the th july a.d. to th july b.c. , and more from th july b.c. , we come to th july in b.c. (if the years be fixed, sidereal, or solar years), or to th november , if they be (as they really are) vague egyptian years" ( b.c. being the year in which ptolemy lagi assumed the crown). [for the discrepancy between this date and the conquest of ochus, "at which the series of the chronicle ostensibly ends," _vide_ "egypt. chron.," p. xxiv.] let the reader now return to the scheme of the chronicle (_sup._ p. ). the analysis of the whole sum, , years, gives , years (to the sun), + (to xiii gods), + (to viii demigods), + (to the sothic cycle), + to kings from menes to nectanebo (the last native sovereign). so far we have only years, corresponding to an historical period, + of the cycle thrown up. it has been previously noted, however, that (two sothic cycles) correspond to the antediluvian and patriarchal period (i. ). the intricate part of the scrutiny will be found in the discrimination of the years (which, with + , make up the sequence of human time, a.m., to nectanebo) from the figures years in the analysis above. for the full and scientific discrimination, i must refer the reader to "egyptian chronicles," i. ; but for a simple demonstration, we may take the historical figures as above--viz. + + , added to the figures thrown in to complete the cycle (_vide infra_), viz. + , all which figures = , and deduct them from the whole cyclical number thus-- , , ------ , now, reverting to the scheme of the chronicle, we shall see the round number , years (being as it were an egyptian month, in thousands of years instead of days) apportioned off to the sun-god. to obtain this round number, the fractional number would have to be detached, and there being at hand the cyclical number years (two perfect sothic cycles), any number in reason of fractional remainders might be added to it, since with the symmetrical nucleus, the agglomeration would always be recognisable by the initiated, _i.e._ by the priests. the years were therefore added to , and also the fictitious years ("to make time from the beginning to run in the form of sothic cycles") were added, because _there_ they would cause no confusion; "whereas if they had been added to the years of the demigods, no one could any longer have distinguished the original fraction." we thus collect, therefore, those various figures into the sum which was the figure of difficulty--viz. ( + + + ), the _forty_ years included having merely reference to the point at which the current sothic cycle was thrown up--being the years intervening between the flight of nectanebo in b.c. , and the coronation of ptolemy lagi in b.c. . upon his own method, based upon josephus, who follows in the main the septuagint ("on a principle of compromise such as all readers, _whatever_ may be their system, may agree in accepting provisionally, and as an approximation"), mr palmer (i. - ) brings the scripture a.m. to b.c. , to a synchronism of "five years four months" and some days, with the egyptian computation. but the same key is made to unlock all the systems of egyptian chronology, and in the course of his two volumes of close and learned investigation, mr palmer demonstrates that "manetho, eratosthenes, ptolemy of mendes, diodorus, josephus, africanus, eusebius, anianus, panodorus, and syncellus, have, either of themselves or by following others, transferred dynasties, generations, and years of the gods and demigods of the chronicle, and even fifteen generations of ptolemies and cæsars, as yet unborn at the date of the chronicle, to kings after menes." let the above scheme of the chronicle be compared, for instance, with the scheme of diogenes laertius (which mr palmer conjectures, upon intrinsic evidence, to have been transmitted through aristotle). diogenes laertius' whole figure is , years, which contains for its fictitious part _thirty_ times = , , which, being deducted from , , , ------ , leaves for "true human time." now years are equal to those years + years + years, which alone in the chronicle belong properly and originally to the xiii gods and viii demigods and the last xv dynasties of the kings from menes to nectanebo, with only thirteen surplus years, _i.e._ from the conquest of darius ochus to alexander; "seemingly to the autumn of b.c. , when he first entered egypt." here i might conclude my outline of mr palmer's scheme, so far as is necessary to the vindication of the chronicle as against bunsen, were it not for the remaining figure (all the others, if the reader will refer back, have been accounted for)--viz. , to which bunsen refers. this figure is shown to correspond with the years of the hyksos or shepherds (i. , , _et seq._, , , ). dynasty xxvii., to which the years in the chronicle are attributed, has been displaced from between dynasties xvii. and xviii. of the chronicle, and its years are "restored to their true place and to the shepherds by manetho," and are given "by the theban priests, _i.e._ by eratosthenes, suppressing the shepherds, to the kings of upper egypt." as regards manetho (i. ) "having, besides the years of the chronicle, additional years of kings, of which ( + = ) only are in themselves, though not in their attributions, chronological, and having given of these (which are thrice and over) to his six early dynasties of _lower_ egypt (and sixteen inconvenient years he isolated between his dynasties xiv. and xv., so as to include them in his book i.), he gave to the three early dynasties of _upper_ egypt _no other unchronological years_ than two complementary sums, the one of (to the first), and the other, of years, to the second of the three dynasties, that these same sums might both coalesce with the remainder of sixty years belonging to the sum of the six dynasties of lower egypt, so as to make with it, or rather to indicate, the one of them the sum of , the other the sum of ." _vide_ table, p. .... sum of six dynasties of lower egypt, . but this sum is equivalent to + + = + + = + + = ---- but ( + ) = ---- ( + ) + = ( of dyn. xiv. of upper egypt.) ( + ) ---- ( of dyn. xv. of upper egypt in book ii.) the place of the years of the shepherd dynasty will be seen as clearly in the analysis of eratosthenes' scheme f. in "egyptian chronicles" (i. ), and if i had space i should like to give it _in extenso_, because it is upon his from menes to xviii. dynasty, that bunsen mainly relies for his fundamental theory (bunsen's "egypt," ii. xvi.) as the confutation of bunsen does not enter into mr palmer's plan, i think it worth while to add, that these years are thus made up , the true historical length of the epoch (from menes to xviii. dynasty), as we know from the chronicle (_vide_ palmer's _supra_), hence the significance of this figure in table above, + of the cycle added, + of dyn. xviii. encroached upon[ ] for the symmetrical purpose displayed in scheme f, in which scheme it will be seen that the years of the shepherds again enter as a constituent part. [ ] it will be understood that, in the above scheme and throughout, mr palmer assumes the existence of cotemporaneous dynasties elsewhere demonstrated. it is admitted, on all hands, that cotemporary dynasties ceased with the xviii. dynasty; and, in the other direction, all schemes commence with menes. if, then, this interval of time is known or determined by one part of a scheme (as it is known from the chronicle to be years), and at the same time, the exigences of the case (owing to fictitious additions) require the location of other figures within the interval, then the super-additions must overlap (apparently to those who know years to be the true historical figure) at one end or the other. one hundred and fifty-six years (as above) is the extent of the overlapping (the years of the cycle standing apart) in the scheme of eratosthenes. but as i am merely indicating the scheme, and not elaborating the argument, i must here part company with mr palmer. if, however, any one wishes to examine the question more in detail, and seeks to know in what manner the years in the above scheme are apportioned among the different generations and dynasties, he must take up with mr palmer at i. p. . my purpose is sufficiently answered by establishing that a scheme exists, if not irrefutable, at least up to this unconfuted, which perfectly harmonises the scriptural with the egyptian chronology. chapter vii. _the tradition of the human race._ "tradition reveals the past to us, and consequently it reveals to us also the future. it is the tie which binds the past, the present, and the future together, and is the science of them all. if we possessed the memory of mankind, as we do that of our personal existence, we should know all. but if we have not the memory of mankind, does not mankind possess it? is mankind without memory, without tradition?... there is no nation which does not exist through tradition, not only historical traditions relative to its earthly existence, but through religious traditions relative to its eternal destiny. to despise this treasure, what is it but to despise life, and that which constitutes its connection, its unity, its light, as we have just seen?... when god spoke to men his word passed into time ... happily tradition seized upon it as soon as it left the threshold of eternity; and tradition is neither an ear, nor a mouth, nor an isolated memory, but the ear, the mouth, and the memory of generations united together by tradition itself, and imparting to it an existence superior to the caprices and weakness of individuals. nevertheless, god would not trust to oral tradition alone ... symbolical tradition was to add itself to oral tradition by sustaining and confirming it ... the five terms constituting the mystery of good and evil: the existence of god, the creation of the world and of man by god, the fall of man, his restoration by a great act of divine mercy, and, lastly, the final judgment of mankind ... and that which oral tradition declared, symbolical tradition should repeat at all times and in all places, in order that the obscured or deceived memory of man might be brought back again to truth by an external, a public, an universal, all-powerful spectacle. [lacordaire is speaking principally with reference to sacrifice and the sacrifice of mount calvary.] ... each time that oral tradition underwent a movement of renovation by the breath of god, symbolical tradition felt the effects of it. the sacrifice of abel marks the era of patriarchal tradition; the sacrifice of abraham marks the era of hebrew tradition; the sacrifice of jesus christ, the final and consummating sacrifice, marks the era of christian tradition.... such is the nature of tradition, and such its history. tradition is the connection of the present with the past, of the past with the future; it is the principle of identity and continuity which forms persons, families, nations, and mankind. it flows in the human race by three great streams which are clearly perceptible--the christian, the hebrew, and the patriarchal or primitive; in all these three it is oral and symbolical, and whether as oral or symbolical it speaks of god, the creation, the fall, reparation and judgment.... without occupying ourselves with the question as to whether scripture was a gift from above or an invention of men, we see that there exists two kinds of it--human and sacred scripture. i understand by human scripture, that which is considered by men as the expression of the ideas of a man; i understand by sacred scripture that which is venerated by nations as containing something more than the ideas of a man.... there are in the world an innumerable quantity of books, nevertheless there are but six of them which have been venerated by nations as sacred. these are the 'kings' of china, the vedas of india, the zend-avesta of the persians, the koran of the arabs, the law of the jews, and the gospel. and at first sight i am struck with this rarity of sacred writings. so many legislators have founded cities, so many men of genius have governed the human understanding, and yet all these legislators, all these men of genius, have not been able to cause the existence of more than six sacred books upon earth!... every sacred book is a traditional book, it was venerated before it existed, it existed before it appeared. the koran, which is the last of the sacred writings in the order of time, offers to us a proof of this worthy of our thoughtful attention. without doubt, mahommed relied upon pretended revelations; however, it is clear to all those who read the koran, that the abrahamic tradition was the true source of its power.... the same traditional character shines upon each page of the christian and hebrew books; we find it also in the zend-avesta, the vedas, and the kings of the chinese. tradition is everywhere the mother of religion; it precedes and engenders sacred books, as language precedes and engenders scripture; its existence is rendered immovable in the sacred books ... a sacred book is a religious tradition which has had strength enough to sign its name.... the sacred writings are, then, traditional; it is their first character. i add that they are constituent, that is to say, they possess a marvellous power for giving vitality and duration to empires. strange to say, the most magnificent books of philosophers have not been able to found, i do not say a people, but a small philosophical society; and the sacred writings, without exception, have founded very great and lasting nations. thus the kings founded china, the vedas india, &c.... look at plato ... how is it that plato has not been able to constitute, i do not say a nation, but simply a permanent school? how is it that communities totter when thinkers meddle with them, and that the _precise moment of their fall_ is that when men announce to them that mind is emancipated, that the old forms which bound together human activity are broken, that the altar is undermined and reason is all-powerful? philosophers! if you speak the truth, how is it that the moment when all the elements of society become more refined and develop themselves, _is the moment of its dissolution_?"--_from père lacordaire's "conferences." conf. and ._ (tran. h. langdon; richardson, .) i should also wish m. auguste nicolas' "etudes philosophiques sur le christianisme"--particularly lib. i. chap. v., "necessite d'une revelation primitive;" and lib. ii. chap. iv., "traditions universelles"--to be read in connection with the following chapter. i did not become acquainted with m. nicolas until after the chapter was concluded. i have, however, fulfilled my obligations in the above extract from l'abbe lacordaire, which lies more _au fond_ of my view than the chapters referred to in m. nicolas. i also wish to direct attention to a remarkable article in the _home and foreign review_, jan. , entitled "classical myths in relation to the antiquity of man," signed f. a. p. tradition, in the sense in which we have just seen it used by lacordaire, in what we may call its widest signification, is not limited to oral tradition, but may be termed the connection of evidence which establishes the unity of the human race; and, with this evidence, establishes the identity and continuity of its belief, laws, institutions, customs, and manners (manners, _vide_ goguet's "origin of laws," i. - ). the more closely the tradition is investigated, the more thoroughly will it be found to attest a common origin, and the more fully will its conformity with the scriptural narrative be made apparent. now, although in all ages there have been men of great intellect who have held to tradition, it may be stated as one of those truths, _qui saute aux yeux_, and which will not be gainsaid, that the human intellect has been throughout opposed to tradition, has been its most constant adversary, equally when it was the tradition of a corrupt polytheism, as when it was the tradition of uncontested truth; and so active has been this antagonism, that the marvel is that anything of primitive tradition should have remained. hence arose the divergence between religion and philosophy--a divergence which, as it seems to me, is inexplicable from the point of view of those who believe that, in the centuries which preceded the coming of our lord,[ ] religion simply was not, had ceased to be; unless we suppose that a tradition of the antagonism had survived, which would still partially disclose how it came about that when religion had ceased to be (_pro argumento_), or had become corrupt, philosophy, which then (_ex hypothesi_) alone soared above the intellect of the crowd, did not, and could not become a religion to them, _infra_, pp. , , . [ ] such appears to me to be the conclusion of mr allies in his learned work ("the formation of christendom," ii. chap. viii. ), "universality of false worship in the most diverse nations the summing up of man's whole history." i request attention, however, to the following passage, at page , which has an especial bearing upon my argument:--"no doubt the greek mind had lived and brooded for ages upon the remains of original revelation, nor can any learning now completely unravel the interwoven threads of tradition and reason so as to distinguish their separate work. however, it is certain that in the sixth century b.c., the greeks were without a hierarchy, and without a definite theology: not indeed without individual priesthoods, traditionary rites, and an existing worship, as well as certain mysteries which professed to communicate a higher and more recondite doctrine than that exposed to the public gaze. but in the absence of any hierarchy ... a very large range indeed was given to the mind, acting upon this shadowy religious belief, and re-acted upon by it, to form their philosophy. the greeks did not, any more than antiquity in general, use the acts of religious service for instruction by religious discourse. in other words, there was no such thing as preaching among them. a domain, therefore, was open to the philosopher, on which he might stand without directly impeaching the ancestral worship, while he examined its grounds, and perhaps _sapped its foundations_. he was therein taking up a position which these priests, the civil functionaries of religious rites, _scarcely any longer_ retaining a spiritual meaning or a moral cogency, had not occupied." and the history of this antagonism seems to be, that the human intellect has ever had, and now more confidently than ever, the aim and ambition to substitute something better than the revelation of primitive tradition, and the experiences of the human race. it is quite conceivable that human life and human institutions might have been arranged upon some scheme different from that of the divine appointment; and although we may believe that any such scheme would result in ultimate confusion and the final extinction of the human race, it is still theoretically possible that the experiment might have been made.[ ] [ ] take for instance mr j. s. mill's peculiar views as to the status of women, "the law of servitude in marriage" ["wives be obedient to your husbands," st paul], he says, "is in monstrous contradiction to all the principles of the modern world" (p. ). "marriage is the only actual bondage known to our law," _id._ but at p. , mr mill says, "the general opinion of men is supposed to be, that the natural vocation of a woman is that of a wife and mother." but he then adds (p. ), "it will not do to assert in general terms that the experience of mankind has pronounced in favour of the existing system. experience cannot possibly have decided between two courses, so long as there has only been _experience of one_. if it be said that the doctrine of the equality of the sexes rests only on theory, it must be remembered that the contrary doctrine also has only theory to rest upon. all that is proved in its favour by direct experience, is that mankind have been able to exist under it, and to attain the degree of improvement and prosperity which we now see; but whether that prosperity has been attained sooner, or is now greater than it would have been under the other system, experience does not say." take in illustration, again, the communistic schemes as against the institution of property. now, although christianity has realised all that will ever be possible in the way of communism in its religious orders, the communistic sects have always instinctively directed their first efforts against religion as against the basis of the social order of things which they attacked. this was forcibly brought out in certain letters on "european radicalism," in the _pall mall gazette_, october and november , _e.g._ "all the contests on the three capital questions ('government, property, religion') which we are now engaged in, are but continuations of the _original divergence_ of opinion (before settled government), considerably modified, of course, under the influence of time, the various _traditional notions_ mankind preserves under the _name of beliefs_, and the whole stock of experience it has accumulated under the name of knowledge. so like, indeed, are the ancient and modern contests on these matters," &c.... (letter i.) again (letter v.), speaking of our english socialist discussing "the necessity of building social edifices upon material, not religious grounds," the writer adds, that among continental socialists "no one thinks there of the possibility of matters standing otherwise;" and that in the socialist workshops of france and germany it is well known "that the very basis of social radicalism requires the abandonment of all kinds of religious discussion, as matter of purely personal inclination, and the abolition of all kinds of privileges as incompatible with equality." [all this has been put out of date by the deeds of the commune and the programme of the "international society"--viz. "_the burning of paris_ we _accept the responsibility of_. _the old society must_ and will perish."] the _spectator_, december , speaks still more explicitly:--"infirm and crippled though she be, the roman church is still the only one who has the courage to be cosmopolitan, and claim the right to link nation with nation, and literature with literature. such an assembly as the council is, at least, an extraordinary testimony to the cosmopolitanism of the great church which seems trembling to its fall; and who can doubt that that fall, whenever it comes, will be followed by a great temporary loosening of the faith in human unity--in spite of the electric telegraph--by a deepening of the chasm between nation and nation, by the loss of at least a most potent spell over the imagination of the world, by a contraction of the spiritual ideal of every church? this ideal, even protestants, even sceptics, even positivists have owed, and have owned that they owed, to the roman church, the only church which has really succeeded in uniting the bond between any one ecclesiastical centre and the distant circumference of human intelligence and energy. but if the consequence of the collapse of romanism would be in this way a loss of power to the human race, think only of the gain of power which would result from the final death of sacerdotal ideas, from the final blow to the system of arbitrary authority exercised over the intellect and the conscience, from the new life which would flow into a faith and science resting on the steady accumulation of moral and intellectual facts and the personal life of the conscience in christ--from the final triumph of moral and intellectual order and freedom. it would doubtless be a new life, subject to great anarchy at first; but the old authoritative systems have themselves been of late little more than anarchy just kept under by the authority of prescription and tradition; and one can only hope for the new order from the complete recognition that it is to have no arbitrary or capricious foundation." here comes in, with its full significance, the great saying of lacordaire's--"order i compare to a pyramid reaching from heaven to earth. men cannot overthrow its base, because the finger of god rests upon its apex." if the finger of god did not so rest, there is no assignable reason why this pyramid--this incubus, as some would call it--which goes back, stone upon stone, to the primitive ages, should not have been overturned, and some system purely atheistical, purely material, purely communistic, substituted for it. but i believe that no democratic organisation, however extended among the masses, will overthrow the established order of things, so long as the possessors of property, the upper classes, are true to the objects for which property was instituted. considering how much man has effected in the material order, and considering also the varied intellectual faculties with which he is endowed, it strikes one as strange, as something which has to be accounted for, that he has been able to effect so little in the moral order. it is the same whether we regard the action of the intellect upon the individual man, or upon society. and from this latter point of view it is so true, that it is more than doubtful whether those epochs in which man has attained the highest point of intellectual and material civilisation, are not those also in which he has reached the lowest depths of immorality;[ ] and in which--having touched the lowest point of corruption--the human intellect is unable to devise any better plan for the government of mankind, than the repression of despotism.[ ] [ ] "it is, upon the whole, extremely doubtful whether those periods which are the richest in literature, possess the greatest shares, either of moral excellence or of political happiness. we are well aware that the true and happy ages of roman greatness long preceded that of roman refinement and roman authors; and, i fear, there is but too much reason to suppose that in the history of the modern nations we may find many examples of the same kind" (f. schlegel's "history of literature," i. ). see also the account of the corruption of morals in rome in the augustan period (allies' "form. of christendom," i. lect. i.) "it is curious to observe that the more eloquent, polite, and learned the greeks became, in the same proportion they became the more degraded and corrupt in their national religion" (godfrey higgins' "celtic druids," , p. ). [ ] "il n'y a, messieurs, que deux sortes de repression possibles: l'une intérieure, l'autre extérieure.... elles sont de telle nature que quand le thermomètre politique est élevé, le thermomètre de la religion est bas, et quand le thermomètre religieux est bas, le thermomètre politique, la repression politique, la tyrannie s'élève. ceci est une loi de l'humanité, une loi de l'histoire." _vide_ disc. de donoso cortes (marq. de valdegamas), th january ; in which he pursues this remarkable parallelism throughout history. but if the human intellect cannot prevent or control corruption, cannot it disenchant vice of its evil, and so counteract its effects? is there no new conception of virtue with which to allure mankind? no second decalogue which will attract by its novelty, or convince by logical cogency and force? the comtists, i believe, have a scheme for setting all these things right. but what portion of mankind do they influence? they are at present formidable only as may be the cloud on the horizon, nor have they found sympathy even where they might have had some expectation of finding it. if there was any separate section of mankind which might have given them countenance, it would, one would think, be the rationalist section, whose principles would disincline them to regard old modes of thought with undue partiality. it is from this quarter, if i mistake not, that the unkindest cut has come, and that it has been said that "the latter half of comte's career and writings is the despair and bewilderment of those who admire the preceding half;" yet in this latter half he only aimed at converting rationalism from a negative to a positive system. but, allowing that a system of some sort might thus be constructed, can positivism be defined as more than the system of those who are positive by mutual consent and agreement without faith or certainty, and who are the more positive in proportion as they recede from catholic truth and tradition. we, however, who believe in the identity of catholicism and christianity, may still appreciate professor huxley's definition of positivism, viz.--"catholicism _minus_ christianity."[ ] [ ] montalembert ("disc. de reception," , discours iii. pp. , , , ) says of the constituent assembly of --"it was the assembly of which made the word revolution the synonyme of methodical destruction, of permanent war against all order and all authority.... it had that mania for uniformity which is the parody of unity, and which montesquieu called the passion of mediocre minds.... in a word, the constituent assembly was wanting not only in justice, courage, and humanity, but it was also deficient in good sense. the evil which it created has survived it. it has made us believe that it is possible to destroy everything and to reconstruct everything in a day.... god has chastised it, above all, by the sterility of its work. it had had the pretence of laying the foundations of liberty for ever, and it had for its successors the most sanguinary tyrants who ever dishonoured any nation. its mission was to re-establish the finances, the empire of the law, and it has bequeathed to france bankruptcy, anarchy, and despotism--despotism without even the repose which they have wrongly taken as the compensation of servitude. it has done more: it has left pretexts for every abuse of force, and precedents for any excess of future anarchy. [montalembert could hardly have foreseen the last application of its principles which we have recently witnessed in paris by the commune, which, too, forsooth, was to have inaugurated a new era for humanity.] but it (this constituent assembly) founded nothing--nothing! the ancient society which it reversed had lasted, in spite of its abuses, a thousand years." can any one adduce a more typical representative of the clear, powerful, penetrating intellect of man than voltaire! voltaire, moreover, had the aim and ambition ("ecraser l'infame") to obliterate the tradition of the past; yet can there be a better example of the impotence of the intellect in the moral order? does it not seem startling that, when the human intellect, as in the case of voltaire, should be able to detect with so much acumen, so much wit, what is wrong, that it should be wholly struck with sterility when it attempts to tell us what is right, to reveal to man any truth in the moral order not traditionally known to them. and if the disciples of voltaire have occasionally, in spasmodic efforts, attempted this, it has not been in the manner of voltaire; it has been in the spirit of eclecticism, of reconstruction out of the elements of the past--that is to say (with pardon, if the phrase has been used before), an attempt to create, out of the elements he would have spurned, edifices which he would have derided. now, the pretension of the human intellect is quite contrary to this experience. it claims to have progressively elevated mankind out of a state of primitive barbarism, to have indoctrinated them with the ideas of morality which they possess, to have humanised them, and thus affirms the converse of the theory of tradition which it pursues with much unreasoning and implacable animosity. the _saturday review_ (july , ), in reviewing mr gladstone's "juventus mundi," says--"mr gladstone is doubtless well aware that there was no portion of his homeric studies which was received with more surprise, or with more unfavourable comment, than his speculations on what he described as the traditive and the inventive elements in the homeric mythology."[ ] in consequence, mr gladstone says he has endeavoured to avoid in his more recent work "a certain crudity of expression." the _saturday review_, however, says--"that 'the crudity of expression' here referred to seems to have been corrected and modified to some extent by disguising the process of argument by which it was sustained, and by the adoption of a lighter touch and slighter treatment of the subject than in the former book. but the theory itself, we believe, remains the same." [ ] from a purely philosophical point of view, why should these speculations of mr gladstone have been received "with more surprise and unfavourable comment" than any other "portions of his homeric studies?" i may assume, then, that the passage which i have elsewhere quoted from mr gladstone, and laid as the basis of my argument, still has his countenance and support, in spite of the manifest antagonism it has provoked. and this passage, i venture to think, acquires fresh light and an accession of force when placed in juxtaposition with the parallel passages from de maistre and dr newman. these passages will present no difficulties to the believer in the bible. how far the view is sustainable, with reference to the more recent conclusions in chronology, i shall consider in another chapter; but, assuming that it is not chronologically disproved, there is no intrinsic impossibility which will debar belief. the general probability of tradition being thus avouched,[ ] i proceed to examine certain statements that have been made as to its necessary variability, and as to the uncertainty and indefiniteness of its utterances. [ ] in one way, nothing is so uncertain as tradition, and, moreover, tradition is rarely positive and direct, but, on the contrary, prone to concrete into strange, fragmentary, and distorted shapes. as an instance, we may take the tradition which genesis attests,--when abraham's hand had been stayed by the angel from the sacrifice of isaac, ... "he called the name of that place 'the lord seeth.' whereupon, even to this day it is said, '_in the mountain the lord will see_.'"--_gen._ xxii. . in illustration of the mode and manner of tradition, is the anecdote of mr hookham frere, who states, that when the maltese talk without reserve upon religious subjects, they say, "everybody knows that adam was the first man, but we alone know that he possessed fishing-boats;" which bunsen says "can be nothing but a phoenician reminiscence."--"egypt," iv. , the reminiscence of the legend of the fisherman. compare the fisherman and his wife in grimm's "popular stories from oral tradition." in the first place, as to its variability, it is true that tested by the experience which we possess of the persistency and exactness of family and local traditions, tradition in the broader sense which i have indicated may appear to be of little value. i have elsewhere attended a closer argument on this point in reply to sir john lubbock (ch. xii.), but i may also make what appears to me, as regards this matter, a sufficiently important distinction. family tradition is so confused, because at each remove in each generation, it is necessarily crossed through marriage with the traditions of another family. these may be either rival or irreconcileable. but this remark will apply with much less force, it will only secondarily and accidentally apply at all to the common traditions, the inheritance of all families starting from a common origin. if these traditions acquired some dross through the intermarriage of families, they will, on the other hand, through the very action of intermarriages, have been more frequently compared, more vividly, therefore, kept in remembrance, and more recognisable in their distortion, because the distortion is more likely to have been in the way of super-addition of what was thought congruous and supplemental. and this seems to me to meet mr max müller's objection in the _contemporary review_ for april . "comparative philology," he says, "has taught again and again, that when we find _exactly_ the same name in greek and sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word;" for we here see reason why and how these traditions have been specially protected against the natural action and law which it is the peculiar province of philology to trace. i say this more especially with reference to the etymology in bryant's and other kindred works, which it is now the fashion to set aside with much _hauteur_; and i assert it without impugning in any way the results of modern philological inquiry, extending, of course, over a much wider field than the writers of the last century could embrace. but i do contend, that when the discussion has reference to the common progenitors of the human race, or the incidents of primitive life--for instance, the names of the ark, and what i may call its accessories, the dove and the rainbow[ ]--a certain probability of identity may be presumed in such sort that it may chance that the probabilities of tradition must be held to override the conjectures, and in some cases even the conclusions of philology.[ ] [ ] _vide_ "bryant's mythology," ii. [ ] after the exposition of his own theory, mr grote says--"it is in this point of view that the myths are important for any one who would correctly appreciate the general tone of grecian thought and feeling, for they were the _universal mental stock_ of the hellenic world, _common to men and women, rich and poor_, ignorant and instructed, they _were in every one's memory and in every one's mouth_, while science and history were confined to comparatively few. we know from thucydides how erroneously and carelessly the athenian public of his day retained the history of pisistratus, only one century past; but the adventures of the gods and heroes, the numberless explanatory legends attached to visible objects and _periodical ceremonies_, were the theme of _general talk_, and every man unacquainted with them would have found himself partially excluded from the sympathies of his neighbours."--_hist. greece_, i. p. ; comp. _infra_, ch. xi. i incline, moreover, to the belief that the fidelity and persistency of local tradition is greater than is generally supposed. sir h. maine[ ] says--"the truth is, that the stable part of our mental, moral, and physical constitution is the largest part of it, and the resistance it opposes to change is such that, though the variations of human society in a portion of the world are plain enough, they are neither so rapid nor so extensive that their amount of character and general direction cannot be ascertained." this establishes a presumption, at any rate, in favour of tradition, although i admit that the quotation from sir h. maine does not go further than point to a tradition of usages; but i contend that a tradition of usage would enable us, after the manner of boulanger,[ ] to disclose "l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages," and to establish the main points and basis of the history of the human race, _e.g._ the fall, the deluge, the dispersion, the early knowledge and civilisation of mankind, the primitive monotheism, the confusion of tongues, the family system, marriages, the institution of property, the tradition of a common morality,[ ] and of the law of nations. [ ] "ancient law," p. . [ ] "pour trouver le veritable objet de ces dernières solemnités, dont les motifs sont compliqués, nous nous attachons à analyser leur cérémoniel et à chercher l'esprit de leurs usages; et cet esprit achève de nous faire reconnaître l'objet que nous n'avions d'abord qu'entrevu ou soupçonné, quelquefois même il nous développe encore la nature des motifs étrangers et mythologiques, et ces motifs se trouvent pour la plûpart n'être que des traditions du _même fait_ qui ont été ou corrompués par le temps, ou travesties par des allégories."--boulanger, _"l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages"_, i. . [ ] _vide_ other lines of tradition indicated in b. iii., c. iii., of de maistre, "du pape." this inquiry might no doubt form a department either of scriptural exegesis, universal history, or of ethnological research; but, in point of fact, its scope is too large practically to fall within such limits; whereas, if it were recognised as a separate branch of study, it would, i venture to think, in the progress of its investigation, bring all these different branches of inquiry into harmony and completeness. and i further contend, that the conclusions thus attained are as well-deserving of consideration as the conclusions of science from the implements of the drift, or as the evidence of "some bones, from the pliocene beds of st prest, which appear to show the marks of knives;"[ ] which are adduced in evidence of a palæolithic age. so that, when on one side it is said that science (meaning the science of geology or philology, &c.) has proved this or that fact apparently contrary to the scriptural narrative, it can, on the other hand, be asserted that the facts, or the inferences from them, are incompatible with the testimony of the science of tradition. the defenders of scripture will thus secure foothold on the ground of science, which, when properly entrenched, will stand good against the most formidable recognizances or assaults of the enemy. [ ] sir j. lubbock, intro. to nillson's "stone age," xii. i cannot help thinking that some such thought lurks in the following passage of cardinal wiseman's second lecture on "science and revealed religion" ( th edition, p. )-- "here again i cannot but regret our inability to comprehend in one glance the bearings and connections of different sciences; for, _if_ it appears that ages must have been required to bring languages to the state wherein we first find them, other researches would show us that these ages never existed; and we should thus be driven to discover some shaping power, some ever-ruling influence, which could do at once what nature would take centuries to effect; and the book of genesis hath alone solved this problem." no doubt a greater general acquaintance and power to grasp--or better still, an intuitive glance--with which to comprehend "the bearings and connections of different sciences," would tend to circumscribe the aberrations of any particular science; but the special intervention which appears to me destined to bring the various sciences into harmony, will be the elevation of the particular department of history or archæology which has to do with the traditions of the human race as to its origin into a separate and recognised branch of inquiry; and i am satisfied that if any portion of that intellect, which is cunning in the reconstruction of the mastodon from its vertebral bone, had been directed to the great lines of human tradition, that enough of the "reliquiæ" and vestiges of the past remain to establish their conformity with that "which alone has solved this problem--the book of genesis;" and which, apart from the consideration of its inspiration, will ever remain the most venerable and best attested of human records.[ ] [ ] _e.g._, mr grote says, in his introduction, that through the combination and illustration of scanty facts, "the general picture of the grecian world may now be conceived with a degree of fidelity which, considering our imperfect materials, it is curious to contemplate." the duke of argyll ("primeval man," p. ) says--"within certain limits it is not open to dispute that the early condition of mankind is accessible to research. contemporary history reaches back a certain way. existing monuments afford their evidence for a considerable distance farther. _tradition has its own province still more remote_; and latterly geology and archæology have met upon common ground--ground in which man and the mammoth have been found together." it is much too readily assumed that traditions must be worthless where no records are kept. gibbon,[ ] i think, was the first who took this position. to this i reply, that although records are valuable for the attestation, they are not guarantees for the fidelity of tradition.[ ] i do not assert that the tradition is more trustworthy than the record; but that, when mankind trust mainly to tradition, the faculties by which it is sustained will be more strongly developed, and the adaptation of society for its transmission more exactly conformed. in other words, tradition in ancient times seemed to flow as from a fountain-head, and the world was everywhere grooved for its reception. we may take in evidence the strange resemblances in mythological tradition in various parts of the world on the one hand, and on the other the oral tradition of the homeric verses; the frequent concourse of citizens, and at recurring festivals of the surrounding populations, to listen to their recital. and not only was there oral tradition in verse, but all public events were recorded in the attestations of the market-place. when a treaty was ratified it was commonly before some temple, or in some place of public resort, and its terms were committed to memory by some hundred witnesses; and in like manner was the recollection of other public events and memorable facts preserved.[ ] (_vide_ pastoret's "hist. de la législation," i. ; also, account of "annales maximi" in dyer's "rome," xvii.) [ ] gibbon ("decline and fall," i. ) says, "but all this well-laboured system of german antiquities is annihilated by a single fact, too well attested to admit of any doubt, and of too decisive a nature to leave room for any reply. the germans, in the days of tacitus, were unacquainted with the use of letters, and the use of letters is the principal circumstance which distinguishes a civilised people from a herd of savages, incapable of knowledge or reflection. without that artificial help, the human memory ever dissipates or corrupts the ideas intrusted to her charge." compare with coleridge, _infra_, p. ; ozanam, _infra_, ch. xiii. [ ] eusebius ("ecclesiastical hist.," ch. xxxvi.) says, speaking of st ignatius--"he exhorted them to adhere firmly to the tradition of the apostles; which, for the sake of greater security, he deemed it necessary to attest by committing it to writing." i do not remember to have seen this quoted in testimony and proof of ecclesiastical tradition. [ ] goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says--"the _first laws_ of all nations were composed in verse, and sung. apollo, according to a very ancient tradition, was one of the first legislators. the same tradition says that he published his laws to the sound of his lyre; that is to say, that he had set them to music. we have certain proof that the first laws of greece were a kind of song. the laws of the ancient inhabitants of spain were verses, which they sung. tuiston was regarded by the germans as their first lawgiver. they said he put his laws into verses and songs. this ancient custom was long kept up by several nations." e. warburton ("conquest of canada," i. ) says--"the want of any written or hieroglyphic records of the past among the northern indians was to some extent supplied by the accurate memories of their old men; they were able to repeat speeches of four or five hours' duration, and delivered many years before, without error, or even hesitation; and to hand them down from generation to generation with equal accuracy.... on great and solemn occasions belts of wampum were used as aids to recollection ... when a treaty or compact was negotiated." yet, although during long periods oral transmission was for mankind the main channel of tradition, it must not necessarily be concluded that writing was unknown, and was not employed for monumental and other purposes. what strikes one most forcibly in contemplating these ages, is the contrast between their intellectual knowledge and their mechanical and material contrivances for its application. during these centuries in which the , hexameters of the "iliad" and "odyssey" were transmitted in memory, by repetition, at public festivals, oral tradition was doubtless employed, because during this period "paper, parchment, or even the smoothed hides, as adapted for the purposes of writing, were unknown."[ ] this, whilst it certainly is in evidence of the paucity of their available resources, at the same time establishes the retentive strength of their memory,[ ] and their intellectual familiarity with great truths. [ ] _vide_ h. n. coleridge ("greek classic poets," p. - ), in speaking of the "dionysiacs, the thebaids, the epigoniads, naupactica, genealogies, and the other works of that sort," p. , he adds--"just as in the indian and persian epics, in the northern eddas, in the poem of the 'cid,' in the early chronicles of every nation with which we are acquainted, one story follows another story in the order of mere history; and the skill and fire of the poet are shown, not in the artifice of grouping a hundred figures into one picture, but in raising admiration by the separate beauty of each successive picture. _they tell the tale as the tale had been told to them, and leave out nothing._" [ ] according to the account which the chinese themselves give of their annals, the works of confucius were proscribed, after his death, by the emperor chi-hoangti, and all the copies, including the chu-king, were recovered from the dictation of an old man who had retained them in memory. "the great moralist of the east" himself, confucius, asserted--"that he only wrought on materials already existing." _vide_ klaproth ap., cardinal wiseman, "science and rev. religion," ii. p. . in the article in the _cornhill magazine_, nov. , containing the valuable collection of dravidian (south indian) folk-songs, it is said, p. , that "they are handed down from generation to generation, entirely vivâ voce, and from the minstrels have passed into public use." and this seems to me the sufficient reply to sir charles lyell's somewhat captious objection, that if the intellectual knowledge of the primitive age was so great, we ought now to be digging up steam engines instead of flint implements. every age has its own peculiar superiority, as hath each individual mind--_non omnia possumus omnes_--and it is as reasonable to object to an age of philosophic thought, or of intuitive perception, that it was not rich in the wealth of material civilisation, as it would be to object to plato or shakspeare, that they did not acquire dominion over mankind; or to alexander, that he did not excel aristotle; or to sir c. lyell, supposing geology to be certain, that he did not anticipate darwin, supposing darwinism to be true. and if it should be more precisely objected that, if in those ages there was the knowledge of writing for monumental purposes, we ought at least to find monuments,[ ] i say that the _onus probandi_ lies with the objector to prove the invention or introduction of writing in the interval between the age of homer and the age of pericles, as against us who believe in its primeval transmission; or to show that its introduction was more probable at this latter period than at the former.[ ] [ ] the duke of argyll ("primeval man," p. ) says--"knowledge, for example, or ignorance of the use of metals are, as we shall see, characteristics on which great stress is laid" (by the advocates of the "savage theory"). "now, as regards this point, as whately truly says, the narrative of genesis distinctly states that this kind of knowledge did not belong to mankind at first.... it is assumed in the savage theory that the presence or absence of this knowledge stands in close and natural connection with the presence or absence of other and higher kinds of knowledge, of which an acquaintance with metals is but a symbol and a type. within certain limits this is true." [ ] presuming total ignorance of writing--its invention at _any_ period seems to me much more marvellous than the discovery of printing after the invention of writing. for the rest we have seen that writing was known at an early period to the chaldæans and egyptians, and probably to the chinese and japanese, and to the medians (ch. xii.) plutarch tells us that a law of theseus, written on a column of stone, remained even to the time of demosthenes. schlegel says[ ]-- "i have laid it down as an invariable maxim to follow historical tradition, and to hold fast by that clue, even when many things in the testimony and declarations of tradition appear strange and almost inexplicable; or, at least, enigmatical; for so soon as, in the investigations of ancient history, we let slip that thread of ariadne, we can find no outlet from the labyrinth of fanciful theories and the chaos of clashing opinion." [ ] phil. hist. i propose to give a few instances of tradition, casually selected, which appear to me to be in illustration of this dictum of schlegel's. take, in illustration, the question whether mankind commenced with the state of monogamy. not that there is any obscurity on this point in the book of genesis. it is indeed sometimes loosely said that we find instances of polygamy in patriarchal times; but, as our lord said, it was not so in the beginning; and the book of genesis exhibits mankind as commencing with a single pair, and subsequently as re-propagated through a group of families, all represented to us at their commencement as monogamous. but if this highest testimony is discarded, and men gravely discuss whether or not they commenced with a state of promiscuity, the argument from tradition will go for as much as the argument from the analogy of circumstances and conditions as inferred from the existing state of savages, since this state, from our point of view, must have been the result of degeneracy.[ ] [ ] burke ("regicide peace,") says--"the practice of divorce, though in some countries permitted, has been discouraged in all. in the east polygamy and divorce are in discredit, and the manners correct the laws." i must, moreover, contend that the practice of monogamy, in any one case, must weigh for very much more than the practice of polygamy in ten parallel instances; because the natural degeneracy and proclivity of man in his fallen state is in this direction. and also, polygamy is much more naturally regarded as the departure from monogamy, than the latter as the restraint of, or advance out of, a state of promiscuity. it may further, i think, be maintained that monogamy--in the way of separation with a single woman by reason of strong love or preference--would be the more probable escape from the state of promiscuity than through the intermediary and progressive stage of polygamy.[ ] [ ] this was written before the appearance of sir j. lubbock's chapter on "marriage," in his "origin of civilization," to which reference is made at pp. , . now, i need scarcely say, that the opponents of monogamy can show no instance of an advance out of the state of promiscuity either to monogamy or polygamy. but they can point to certain communities in ancient and modern times in a state of polygamy. either, then, they must have degenerated into this state from the primitive monogamous family system, or they must have arrived at the stage in growth and progress out of a state of promiscuity. does tradition give any clue out of this labyrinth? to simplify the question, i will consent to appeal to the identical tradition to which the advocates of an original promiscuity direct our attention. mr j. f. m'lennan, who, in his "primitive marriage," (_vide supra_), apparently describes mankind as originally in a state of promiscuity, subsequently limited by customs of tribal exogamy and endogamy, in a recent article in the _fortnightly review_ (oct. ), "totems and totemism," sees further evidence of his theory in the following traditions from sanchoniathon:-- "few traditions respecting the primitive condition of mankind are more remarkable, and perhaps none are more ancient, than those that have been preserved by sanchoniatho; or rather, we should say, that are to be found in the fragments ascribed to that writer by eusebius. they present us with an outline of the earlier stages of human progress in religious speculation, which is shown _by the results of modern inquiry to be wonderfully correct_. they tell us for instance that '_the first men consecrated the plants shooting out of the earth, and judged them gods_, and worshipped them upon whom they themselves lived, and all their posterity, and all before them, and to these they made their meat and drink offerings.'[ ] they further tell us that the first men believed the heavenly bodies to be animals, only differently shaped and circumstanced from any on the earth. 'there were certain animals which had no sense, out of which were begotten intelligent animals ... and they were formed alike in the shape of an egg. thus shone out môt [the luminous vault of heaven?], the sun and the moon, and the less and the greater stars.' _next they relate, in an account of the successive generations of men_, that _in the first generation the way was found out of taking food from trees_; that, in the second, men, having suffered from droughts, began to worship the sun--the lord of heaven; that in the third, light, fire, and flame [conceived as persons], were begotten; that in the fourth giants appeared; while in the fifth, 'men were named from their mothers' because of the uncertainty of male parentage, this generation being distinguished also by the introduction of 'pillar' worship. it was not till the twelfth generation that the gods appeared that figure most in the old mythologies, such as kronos, dagon, zeus, belus, apollo, and typhon; and then the queen of them all was the _bull_-headed astarte. the sum of the statements is, that men first worshipped plants; next the heavenly bodies, supposed to be animals; then 'pillars;' ... and, last of all, the anthropomorphic gods. not the least remarkable statement is, that in primitive times there was kinship through mothers only, owing to the uncertainty of fatherhood."[ ] [ ] a tradition of the constellations, a proof from tradition that they were so named in the ante-diluvian period. [ ] sanchoniatho's "phoenician history," by the right rev. r. cumberland. london, , pp. , , , _et seq._ eusebius, præpar. evangel. lib. i. cap. . the fragments of sanchoniathon here referred to are found at earlier date than eusebius, having been copiously extracted by philo (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt"). sanchoniathon was to phoenicia what berosus was to assyria; that is to say, the earliest post-diluvian compilers of history when tradition was becoming obscure. let us scrutinise his testimony. we are here told "that the first men _consecrated the plants_ shooting out of the earth, and _judged them gods_."... "next they relate, in an account of the successive generations of men, that in the first generation _the way was found out of taking food from trees_." here, i submit, that we have plainly and unmistakably a tradition of that first commencement of evil, the first man and woman plucking the apple from the tree, thinking they would become as gods (gen. iii. , ), ... "and the serpent said ... for god doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof ... and you shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." then follows the succession of ages (_vide infra_, ch. xiii.), of which there is a curious parallel tradition in hesiod and apollodorus, and partial correspondences in the traditions of india, china, and mexico (_infra_, ch. xiii.).[ ] [ ] _vide_ grote, i. it will be noted, however, that whilst running into the tradition of hesiod on the one side (in hesiod and in the chinese tradition there is trace of a double tradition, ante and post-diluvian), sanchoniathon still more closely runs in with the narrative of genesis on the other, thus connecting the links of the chain of tradition.[ ] [ ] this chapter was written before i became acquainted with mr palmer's "chronicles of egypt" (_vide_ ch. vi.) if the reader will refer to chap. i., he will there find a learned and exhaustive exposition of the ages of sanchoniathon, identifying them with scripture on the one side, and egyptian tradition on the other. in the succession of ages we have in outline the history of mankind in the ante-diluvian period--the fall, _supra_--followed in the succeeding age by a great _drought_--[compare this tradition with the following passage in fran. lenormant's "histoire ancienne," i. p. , d ed., paris --"and when geology shows us the first ante-diluvian men who came into our part of the world, living in the midst of ice, under conditions of climate analogous to those under which the esquimaux live at the present day ... one is naturally brought to the recollection of _that ancient tradition of the persians_, fully conformable to the information which the bible supplies on the subject of the fall of man, ... which ranks among the first of the chastisements which followed the fall, along with death and other calamities, the advent of an _intense and permanent cold_ which man could scarcely endure, and which rendered the earth almost uninhabitable."[ ]] it is to this period, and the short period immediately following the deluge (_vide_ ch. ii. p. , and _infra_, pp. , ), that i am inclined to trace the notions of a primitive barbarism--compare, for instance, the facts which goguet, in his "origin of laws," i. p. , adduces in proof of his progress from barbarism, with the above tradition of the persians recorded by lenormant. [ ] is not this the meaning of the cxlvii. psalm, in the expression, "ante faciem frigoris ejus quis sustinebit"? does not the psalm recount to the jewish people, in rapid allusions, all that god had done for them, in contrast to the chastisements that had befallen other nations; and if it is objected that there is no allusion to the deluge, unless in its indirect and beneficial influences, in the words, "flavit spiritus ejus et fluent aquæ," i reply that to the survivors, the deluge, regarded largely, and in its permanent effects, was no calamity, but the commencement of a new and more favoured era. goguet says--"the egyptians, persians, phoenicians, greeks, and several other nations (_vide_ his references, p. ), acknowledged that their ancestors were once without the use of fire. the chinese confess the same of their progenitors.... pomponius, mela, pliny, plutarch, and other ancient authors speak of nations, who, at the time they wrote, knew not the use of fire, or had only just learned it. facts of the same kind are attested by several modern relations." let this latter statement be compared with _infra_, pp. , . in the third age we are told--"light, fire, and flame (conceived as persons) were begotten," which looks like a tradition of vulcan, tubalcain, &c. (_vide_ ch. xii. _infra_); and "in the fourth, giants appeared;" while in the fifth, the corruption of mankind is indicated, as is declared in genesis vi. : "now giants were upon the earth in those days. for after the sons of god went in to the daughters of men and brought forth children," &c., ver. , "and when god had seen that the earth was corrupted (for all flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth), ver. , he said to noe," &c. "it was not till the twelfth generation that the gods appeared that figured most in the old mythologies," says mr m'lennan, quoting sanchoniathon, or what is believed to be his testimony. i trust that this fragment of tradition may be remembered in connection with what i have written in chapters viii., ix., x. [ ] [ ] compare ch. xiii. the successive ages of hesiod, more especially the lines describing the iron age, parallel to the tradition, _supra_, "that in the fifth age _men were named from their mothers_." "no fathers in their sons their features trace, the sons reflect _no more_ their father's face; the host with kindness greets his guest no more, and friends and brethren love not as of yore." --hesiod. president goguet ("origin of laws," i. ,) had noticed the ancient allusions to "kinship through mothers," and his statement that "women belonged to the man who seized them first.... the children who sprang from this irregular intercourse scarce ever knew who were their fathers. they knew only their mothers, for which reason they always bore their name." for this statement he also quotes sanchoniathon, ap. eus. p. , as his principal authority. but sanchoniathon's statement, as we have seen, refers to the ante-diluvian period, in which it is borne out by genesis vi. . there is one fact adduced by goguet (i. ), viz. that the _assyrians_ had an analogous ceremony which must be decisive for us, though not, perhaps, for mr m'lennan, that the custom of seizure was ante-diluvian, since the commencement of the assyrian monarchy in the times immediately following the flood, is one of the best established foundations of history. _vide_ genesis and rawlinson. "this race of _many languaged_ man." to any one who rightly grasps the bearing of the argument, the appositeness of this quotation will, i think, be rather strengthened than diminished by the evidence that the lines of hesiod plainly refer to post-diluvian times (_vide_ ch. xiii.) "the sum of the statements" then, so regarded, is to confirm the tradition of the human race as recorded in genesis, that they sprang from three brothers and their three wives, forming three monogamous pairs who accompanied their father noah into the ark, with his wife; and who again were more remotely descended from a single pair. if, then, in the two most ancient traditions of which we have any record, we find concordance on some points and divergence on others, the circumstance of identity at all is so much more startling than the occurrence of discrepancy, that it will fairly be taken to warrant the presumption of a common origin; and this conformity will also be naturally claimed in support of our narrative as against the other on the points of disagreement, which will then be set down to the corruption of that which is deemed the most ancient and authentic. for those, therefore, who believe the bible to be the revealed word of god, and even for those who regard it as the most ancient record, the coincidences with sanchoniathon will afford a striking testimony; whereas the coincidence of the fifth age of sanchoniathon with genesis (chap. vi. , , ) and the tradition of hesiod, must be an embarrassment to those who seek in this tradition evidence that what was characteristic of the fifth age, was true of the preceding and pristine ages. to take a second instance, more exactly in illustration of the quotation from f. schlegel, _supra_, p. , there is no such barrier to tradition (regarded retrospectively) as the notion, if we accept it, which crept over many nations, that they were "autochthones." like the sand-drifts known to geologists as dunes, such notions, if they had been received absolutely, would have involved all tradition in a general extinction. but as the dunes, when minutely measured and submitted to calculation, have afforded the best evidence in favour of what may be called the diluvian chronology, so will this notion that men sprang out of the soil in which they dwelt, when analysed, contribute fresh evidence to the truth and persistence of tradition. but first of all, will any one start with the theory--that any nation that had this notion about itself--the greeks, for instance, were really autochthones? there is, then, simply a confusion of ideas, a difficulty which has to be unravelled; but seeing that the greeks notoriously believed themselves to be autochthones, it becomes an obstruction in the main channel of tradition, and it is especially incumbent upon us to consider the facts. in the "supplicants" of Æschylus--and i am not aware that the notion crops up at earlier date--pelasgus is introduced as saying-- "pelasgus bids you, sovereign of the land, my sire, palæcthon, of _high ancestry, original_ with this _earth_; from me, their king, the people take their name, and boast themselves pelasgians." --v. . here the high descent, and the origin from the soil, the ancestry referred to in the same breath with the allusion to his sire, "original with this earth," strikes one as incongruous. and the incongruity appears still greater when we recollect that pelasgus is the person whom all historical evidence proves to have been the first settler in the country; it being also borne in mind that the term "autochthones," whether in a primary or a secondary sense, is always applied to the supposed aboriginals of the country, and therefore excludes the hypothesis of any more primitive colonisation.[ ] [ ] the phoenician cosmogony seems to me to clinch the argument. there (_vide_ bunsen, egypt, iv. ), "_the son of eliun_ is called by philo, epigeios or _autokhthon_, 'the earth-born,' primeval inhabitant. by the latter of these expressions we have no doubt that adam-tadmon ('the kadmos of the greeks,' p. ), the first man, the man of god, is implied" ("eliun, _i.e._ helyun, god the most high," p. ). there is an analogy in their confused tradition of the creation. "eudemus says, according to the phoenician mythology, which _was invented by môkhos_, the first principle was æther and air; from these two beginnings sprang ulômos (the eternal), the rational (conscious) god" (bunsen, iv. ). bunsen, ( ) adds, "as regards môkhos the thing is clear enough; the old materialistic philosopher is matter, and that in the sense of primeval slime." [whence it has been suggested that we derive our word muck, môkh, or môkhos.] this beginning bunsen considers (p. ) "a philosophising amplification of the simply sublime words of genesis: 'the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was over the face of the waters.'" here we see the human reason hampered by the tradition that confused matter or chaos was somehow at the commencement, and with the conflicting tradition and conclusion of the intellect that it was, and must have been, created by a power superior to matter ("in the beginning god created heaven and earth"), emancipating itself, so far as to identify the creator with the æther and air, as nearer the conception of a pure spirit, and personifying matter, and so shunting it aside as the "inventor of the mythology." but if we regard it as a corruption of the tradition that man was created out of the earth ("for dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," genesis iii. ), does not this solve all difficulties? the extension of the knowledge that they were created out of the earth, to the notion that they were created out of this or that particular clay, is not violent. is it not this same Æschylus[ ] who has the allusion "to the earth drinking the blood of the two rival brothers, the one slain by the other." it will be seen at p. , that the mexicans believed that the first race of men were created "out of the earth," and "the third out of a tree," a reminiscence of the creation, and of the fall, the intermediate event being probably the creation of eve. in like manner, the red indians have a tradition that they were created out of the _red clay_ by the great spirit; and to go to another part of the world, the supposed aboriginal tribes of china were called miautze, or "soil children."[ ] [ ] _vide_ de maistre (ch. xii.) [ ] max müller, "chips," &c., ii. . the titans were also said to be "earth-born." bryant (iii. ) says berosus gives the following tradition of the creation. belus after deification being confounded with the creator, as we have seen prometheus, id. --"belus, the deity above mentioned, cut off his own head, upon which the other gods mixed the blood as it gushed out _with the earth_, and _from thence_ men _were formed. on this_ account it is that they are rational and partake of divine knowledge. _this_ belus, whom men called _dis, divided the darkness_ and separated the heavens from the earth," &c. this testimony must be connected with the phrase so startling in the seventh ode of the fourth book of horace, "_pulvis_ et umbra sumus," and with the text in genesis iii. , "for dust thou art."[ ] it may possibly be said that this is merely matter of every day's experience. but it is precisely at this point that we must ask those who dispute tradition to discard tradition. do bodies--so far as the exterior senses tell us--return to dust, or to other forms of life? if it is true that we return to dust--scripture apart--it is tradition and not experience which attests it, and yet so common is the belief, that it might readily pass as the result of common observation. [ ] compare cicero, de legibus, i. : "est igitur homini _cum deo similitudo_;" and with gen. ii. , : "and god created man in his own likeness." so general a tradition that man was created, and created out of the ground,[ ] is so completely in accordance with the text of genesis, that one can hardly see what more can be demanded; yet catlin says[ ]--"though there is not a tribe in america but what has _some_ theory of man's _creation_, there is not one amongst them all that bears the _slightest resemblance_ to the mosaic account." catlin instances the traditions of the mandans, choctaws, and the sioux--_ st_, the mandans (who have the ceremony commemorative of _the deluge_ referred to, ch. xi.), believe that they were created "under the ground." _ d_, the choctaws assert that they "were created crawfish, living alternately under the ground and above it as they chose; and, creeping out at their little holes in the earth to get the warmth of the sun one sunny day, a portion of the tribe was driven away and could not return; they built the choctaw village, and the remainder of the tribe are still living under the ground." the iroquois, however, believe that they "came out of the ground," which is identical with the greek notion of their being "autochthones" (_vide_ colden, ii. ), where one of their chiefs speaks thus--"for we must tell you that long before one hundred years our ancestors _came out of this very ground_.... you _came out of the ground_ in a country that lies beyond the seas." now, even if we consent to detach the iroquois tradition, there is still in both the mandan and choctaw tradition, a common idea of their having come from "under the ground," which seems to me the tradition that they were created out of the ground at one remove. to this it would seem the choctaws have super-added their recollection of some incident of their tribe, possibly that they were an offshoot of the esquimaux, or were at one period in their latitude and lived their life, which would be in accordance with the theory of their migrations from asia by behring's straits. _d_, about the sioux, the third instance of contrariety adduced by catlin, it seems to me that there is no room for argument, the sioux having the tradition referred to above, that the great spirit _told_ them that "the red stone was their flesh." to these three instances mr catlin adds--"other tribes were created under the water, and at least _one half of the_ tribes in america represent that man was created _under the ground_ or in the rocky caverns of the mountains. why this diversity of theories of the creation if these people brought their traditions of the deluge from the land of inspiration?"[ ] [ ] "the chinese cosmogony speaks as follows of the creation of man--'god took some yellow earth, and he made man _en deux sexes_.'" this is the true origin of the human race. a hebrew tradition says that it was of the red earth, which is the same idea. the hebrew word "adam" expresses this idea. this correspondence as to the manner in which the body of the first man was formed, between two people who have never had relations, is very remarkable. indian and african cosmogonies relate that the name of the first man was 'adimo,' that of his wife 'hava,' and that they were the last work of the creator."--gainet, _la bible sans la bible_, i. p. . i must note, too, the identity of the american indian (_supra_) and the hebrew tradition, which is curious, as it might naturally be supposed that the tradition of the red indian took its _colour_ from his own complexion. max müller ("lect. on the science of language," st series, p. ) says of "man"--"the latin word _homo_, the french _l'homme_, ... is _derived from the same root_, which we have in _humus_, soil, _humilis_, humble. _homo_, therefore, would express the idea _of being made out of the dust of the earth_." bunsen also ("phil. univ. hist." i. ) says--"the common word for man in all german dialects is 'manna,' containing the same root as sanscrit 'manusha' and 'manueshya.' the latin 'homo' is intimately connected with 'humus' and [greek: chamai] and means _earth-born_; [greek: anthrôpôn chamaigeneôn], says pindar. but what is [greek: anthrôpos]?" [ ] "last rambles," p. . [ ] the following tradition of the tartar tribes seems to supply a link. in their tradition of the deluge (_vide_ gainet, i. ) it is said, "that those who saved themselves from the deluge shut themselves up with their provisions in the crevices of mountains, and that after the scourge had passed they came out of their caverns." and compare, again, with the tradition of kronos (noah, _vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. )--"he is said to have had _three_ sons (sanch. ap. euseb. p. e., lib. i. c. , ), and in a _time of danger_ he formed a _large cavern in the ocean_, and in this he shut himself up, together _with these sons_, and thus escaped the danger."--_porph. de nymphar. antro._, p. . bryant ("mythology," iii. ) says--"i have shown that gaia, in its original sense, signified a sacred cavern, a hollow in the earth, which, from its gloom, was looked upon as an emblem of the ark. hence gaia, like hasta rhoia cybele, is often represented as the mother of mankind." the following is very important with reference to my argument above:--the scholiast upon euripides says--"[greek: meta ton kataklysmon en oresin oikountôn tôn argeiôn prôtos autous synôkisen inachos]. when the argivi or arkites, _after the deluge_, lived _dispersed on the mountains_, inachus first brought them together and formed them into communities."--comp. _infra_, p. , , , . the instances adduced of myths connecting man with the monkey are, as a rule, traditions of degeneracy, _i.e._ of men turned into monkeys (_vide_ tylor's "primitive culture," i. ), and to which i would add the rabbinical tradition of men turned into monkeys at the tower of babel (de quincey, works, xiii. ), and the classical epic of the ceropes, "founded on the transformation of a set of jugglers into monkeys." but if compared with the above tradition, i think that the only two instances (tylor, i. ) which seem to bear out the opposite theory will wear a different aspect. i quote from tylor as above--"wild tribes of the malay peninsula, looked down upon as lower animals by the more warlike and civilised malays, have among them traditions of their own descent from _a pair_ of the "unka-putch" or _white_ monkeys, who reared their young ones _and sent them into the plains_, and there they perfected so well that they and their descendants became men, but those _who returned to the mountains_ still remained apes. the buddhist legend relates the origin of the flat-nosed uncouth tribes of tibet, offspring of _two miraculous apes_, transformed to _people_ the snow-kingdom. taught to till the ground, when they had grown corn and eaten it, their tails and hair gradually disappeared, they began to speak, became men, and clothed themselves with leaves. the population grew closer, the land was more and more cultivated, and at last a prince of the race of sakya, driven from his home in india, _united their isolated tribes_ into a single kingdom."--comp. cecrops, &c., p. , _infra_. now, just as the tribes who said they were created "under the ground" implied the same tradition as those who said they were created _out of_ the ground, so, too, the tribes who said they were created "under the water" probably held the tradition that the creation of the race preceded the deluge. the tradition which connects the creation with "the rocky caverns of the mountains" is more recondite--may it possibly be a recollection of the commencement of civil life after the deluge, when noah led them, according to tradition, from the mountains to the plains? m. l'abbé gainet says (i. )--"the lord repeated four times the promise that he would not send another deluge.... the children of noah were long scared by the recollection of the dreadful calamity.... it is probable that they did not decide upon leaving the 'plateaux' of the mountains till quite late. moreover, caverns have been found in the mountains of the himalaya, and in many other elevated regions of asia, which they suppose to have been formed by the first generations of man after the deluge. the works of the learned m. de paravey make frequent mention of them." this tradition is supported by the lines of virgil referring to saturn (_vide infra_, p. ). "is genus indocile, ac dispersum _montibus altis_ composuit; legesque dedit."--_Æn._ viii. . i give these suggestions for what they may be worth.[ ] truly, where some see nothing but harmony, others see nothing but diversity. only to put it to a fair test, i should like to see mr catlin or some one else group these various traditions round any one tradition which they believe to be at variance with the revelation of genesis, and which, at the same time, they happen to consider to be the true one. it must be conceded that in one way the facts accord with mr catlin's theory--contradicted, however, by other evidence (_infra_, ch. xi.)--that the indians were created on the american continent. but upon any theory that they were not created at all, but existed always in pantheistic transformation, or had progressed from the monkey, or had been developed in evolution from some protoplasm, is not the tradition incongruous and inexplicable? [ ] it occurs to me as possible that these various traditions may have had their foundation in the recollection of hardship, at some early period of their subsequent migration, which were transferred back and connected with their tradition of the altered state of things after the deluge, arising out of the substitution of animal for vegetable food--of which the notion that man once lived on acorns may have been only an extreme form of expression. the following tradition of saturn (_vide infra_, saturn, p. ), seems to tend in this direction: "diodorus siculus gives the same history of saturn as is by plutarch above given of janus--[greek: ex agriou diaitês eis êmeron bion metarêsa anthrôpous].--diodorus, . , p. . he brought mankind from their foul and savage way of _feeding_ to a more mild and rational _diet_."--bryant, ii. . to take another instance. the hindoos had a fanciful notion that the world was supported by an elephant, and the elephant by a tortoise. nothing can be imagined more incongruous and grotesque. yet dr falconer has recently discovered, in his explorations in india, a fossil tortoise adequate to the support of an elephant. the incongruity then of the tradition disappears; its grotesqueness remains. i cannot help thinking, however, that it may have been the embodiment in symbol, or else the systematisation of the confused medley of their tradition of the order, _i.e. of the sequence of days of the creation_ (_vide_ appendix to this chapter).[ ] [ ] this fable of the tortoise is also among the mandans, whom, catlin (_supra_, ) says, had no other tradition of the creation than that they were created under the ground. their tradition is confused with the deluge, which dominates in their tradition. "the mandans believed that the earth rests on four tortoises. they say that "each tortoise rained ten days, making forty days in all, and the waters covered the earth" (_vide_ "o-kea-pa," p. , _infra_, ch. xi.) does not this tradition of the tortoise decide the _oriental_ origin of the north american mandans? falconer's "palæontological mem.," , i. , ii. - , &c., "as the pterodactyle more than realised the most extravagant idea of the winged dragon, so does this huge tortoise come up to the lofty conceptions of hindoo mythology; and could we but recall the monsters to life, it were not difficult to imagine an elephant supported on its back"(i. ). the new zealanders have a curious tradition of their ancestors having encountered a gigantic saurian species of reptile, which must have been before they arrived in new zealand. _vide_ shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. . i have alluded, p. , to the tradition preserved by berosus, that oannes, whom i identify with noah, left writings upon the origin of the world, in which he says, "that there was a time when all was darkness and water, and that this darkness and water contained _monstrous animals_." here, perhaps, two distinct traditions are confused; but is not the tradition of animals so much out of the ordinary nature of things as to be called monstrous sufficiently marked to make us ask if the discovery of the skeleton of the "megatherium" ought to have come upon the scientific world as a surprise? might they not have anticipated the discovery if they had duly trusted tradition? other instances might doubtless be adduced. my present object is merely to suggest that there may be truths in tradition not dreamt of by modern philosophy. if the human intellect were as capacious as it is acute, we might then listen with greater submission to its strictures upon tradition; because then we might at least believe that its vision extended to all the facts. but in truth, no intellect, however encyclopædic, can grasp them all. indeed, knowledge in many departments is becoming more and more the tradition of experts, and must be taken by the outside world on faith. how many facts, again, once in tradition, but at some period put on record, lie as deeply shrouded in the dust of libraries as they had previously lain hidden in the depths of ages? who will say what facts are traditional in different localities? barely do we move from place to place without eliciting some information strange and new. who again will say what ideas are traditional in different minds? barely is there a discussion which provokes traditional lore or traditional sentiment which does not bring to light some such thought or experience, re-appearing, like the lines in family feature, after the lapse of several generations. whenever, then, mankind is called upon to discard its traditions at the voice of any intellect, however powerful, is it unreasonable to demand that some cognizance should be taken of these facts.[ ] [ ] i have elsewhere (_vide_ ch. iv., _et seq._, x., xi.) traced the tradition of the deluge, of the chronology of the world, &c., &c. let us now, returning to the tradition we have more especially in view, ask this further question,--what could the human intellect have done towards the regeneration of the race if there had been no revelation and no tradition? it is not often that unbelief is constructive and supplies us with the necessary data with which to furnish the answer. but recently a work which is said to embody considerable learning has appeared, entitled, "the origin and development of religious belief," which is written "from a philosophic and not from a religious point of view;" in which "the existence of a god is not assumed, the truth of revelation is not assumed," and "the bible is quoted not as an authoritative, but as an historical record open to criticism."--mr baring gould, "origin and development of religious belief," preface, . here then, if anywhere, we are likely to get the solution from the point of view of unbelief. at p. , mr b. gould thus summarises his views:-- "religion, as has been already shown, is the synthesis of thought and sentiment. it is the representation of a philosophic idea. it always reposes on some hypothesis. at first it is full of vigour, constantly on the alert to win converts. then the hypothesis is acquiesced in, it is received as final, its significance evaporates. the priests of ancient times were also philosophers, but not being able always to preserve their intellectual superiority, their doctrines became void of meaning, hieroglyphs of which they had lost the key; and then speculation ate its way out of religion, and left it an empty shell of ritual observance, void of vital principle. philosophy alone is not religion, nor is sentiment alone religion; but religion is that which, based on an intelligent principle, teaches that principle as dogma, exhibits it in worship, and applies it in discipline. dogma worship and discipline are the constituents, so to speak, the mind spirit, and body of religion."--"_origin and development of religious belief._" by s. baring gould, m.a. rivingtons, . part i., p. . here it is said that "religion is the representative of a philosophic idea. it always reposes on some hypothesis." this philosophic idea may be that there must necessarily be a creator. but also it may not be, for "the existence of god is not assumed" (_vide_ preface). if it is not, then, according to this definition, religion may be the representative of any philosophic idea (_i.e._ any idea of any philosopher), even that which may be diametrically opposed to the existence and goodness of god.[ ] but if, on the other hand, the existence of god is this primary philosophic idea, then all other philosophic ideas must succumb to it. it is a point which you must settle at starting in your definition of religion. [ ] devil-worship is based upon the hypothesis that the evil spirit exists, and is the influence from which man has most to dread. prudence suggests that it is wise to propitiate evil when it is powerful; and if "the existence of god is not assumed," or the conception of god not yet developed, it is hard to see how the conclusion can be impugned; and (_vide_ next page) mr baring gould endorses grimm's opinion that man's first "idea of god is the idea of a _devil_." what follows seems to assume that some individual, or some set of individuals, at a period more or less remote, evolved the idea of god and religion out of their own consciousness; but that, as the descendants of these individuals had not the same intellectual vigour, the conception lapsed,--"their doctrines became hieroglyphs of which they had lost the key." nothing can be more conformable to the theory of tradition;[ ] but from the point of view of mr baring gould, what was to forbid other individuals broaching fresh conceptions? is there, however, any instance known to us? is there any instance of a religion not eclectic or pantheistic (the one being the mere revivalism or reconstruction of the elements of former beliefs, and the other their absorption), any religion "based on an intelligible principle," heretofore unknown to mankind, rising up and obtaining even a temporary ascendancy among mankind? no; mankind, even in the darkness of paganism, persistently distinguished between religion and philosophy, priests and sophists--though intellectually so much alike--and this i consider to be a master-key to the history of the past (_ante_, p. ). [ ] the most favourable review of mr b. gould's work which i have seen says:--"in tracing the origin and development of religious belief, the object of mr baring gould is to establish the foundation of _christian_ doctrine on the nature, the intuitions, and the reason of man, _rather than upon traditionary dogmas_, historical documents, or written inspirations. he is of opinion that the elements of true religion are to be found in a revelation naturally impressed upon the soul of man, and that the investigation of man's moral nature will be found to disclose the surest proofs of his religious wants and destination. the author holds that if theological doctrines can be inculcated by demonstrative evidence of their harmony with man's intellectual and moral constitution, they will be received with more perfect acquiescence and conviction than when appeals are made simply to man's veneration for antiquity and authority." i think i am, at any rate, right in taking mr b. g.'s as the view most directly opposed to tradition, and it is from this point of view that i am brought into collision with him. there is a further point which mr baring gould must settle. religion may be theoretically regarded as an affair of growth, progressive, or as an affair of revelation, or something so nearly counterfeiting revelation as to arise spontaneously; but it cannot well be both. now, in the pages of mr baring gould it appears at one time "springing into life" (p. ), and, as in the passage above, analogously to a conception in the mind:--"_at first_ it is full of vigour, constantly on the alert to win converts;" at another, "as a conception slowly evolved;" then all at once "a living belief, vividly luminous" (p. ). again (p. ), "religion does not reach perfection of development at a bound; generations pass away, before," &c.; and (p. ) we find that in all _primitive_ religions the idea of god is the idea of a _devil_, or (_id._) "that the first stage in the conception of a devil is the attribution of evil to god," which is different, inasmuch as it supposes man to start with the knowledge of god, and is, moreover, inconsistent with what is said at page :--"the shapeless religion of a primitive people gradually assumes a definite form. it is that of _nature_ worship. it progresses through polytheism and idolatry, and emerges into monotheism or pantheism." of course this is said upon _the assumption_ that the primitive man was barbarous. but however remote from the fact, it is theoretically as conceivable that man should worship nature as an ideal of beauty and power, as that he should regard it from the first as an apparition of terror; or, in other words, that taking nature-worship for granted, mr max müller's view of it, viz.:--"he begins to lift up his eyes, he stares at the tent of heaven, and asks who supports it? he opens his eyes to the winds, and asks them whence and whither? he is awakened from darkness and slumber by the light of the sun, and him whom his eyes cannot behold, and who seems to grant him the daily pittance of his existence, he calls 'his life, his breath, his brilliant lord and protector'" (chips, i. , _apud_ b. g., ),--is as likely to be the true one as mr baring gould's,[ ] viz.:--"at first man is ... antitheist; but presently he feels resistances.... the convulsions of nature, the storm, the thunder, the exploding volcano, the raging seas, fill him with a sense of there being a power superior to his own, before which he must bow. his religious thought, vague and undetermined, is roused by the opposition of nature to his will" (p. ). [ ] _vide_, however, dr newman's "grammar of assent," p. , _et seq._ mr baring gould postulates, i am aware, the lapse of several generations for the evolution of these ideas. but there is nothing in mr baring gould's statement of the progression or development of the conception of the deity among mankind which might not pass in rapid sequence through the mind of the primitive man,--call him "areios," if you shrink from close contact with history, and refuse to call him adam. why then the indefinite lapse of time? why the progressive advance of the idea through successive generations of mankind? why, except that the primitive barbarism _must_ be assumed; and because (p. ), "in the examination of the springs of religious thought, we have to return again and again to the wild bog of savageism in which they bubble up." but if the savagery was so great, the perplexity how man ever came to make the first step in the induction is much greater than that, having made it, he should proceed on to make the last. it is certain that reason can prove the existence of god and his goodness, and this knowledge evokes the instincts of love and worship. it is true also that man has a conscience of right and wrong, and that among its dictates is a sense of the obligation of love and worship. still this will not account for the existence of religion in the world. much less will mr baring gould's theory of an induction by mankind collectively, spread over several centuries, account either for the notion or for the institution. neither, apart from direct or indirect revelation, would it prove more than that man was religious, though without religion; capable of arriving at the knowledge of god's existence, but without any knowledge how to propitiate him; seeking god, but not able to find him. therefore, mr baring gould truly says--"philosophy alone is not religion." philosophy, as we have seen, may prove the existence of god. but religion, from the commencement of the world, has conveyed the idea that there is a particular mode in which god must be worshipped. here philosophy is entirely at fault. mr baring gould again truly says that "dogma, worship, and discipline are the constituents, so to speak, the mind, spirit, and body of religion" (p. ). but he goes no further, and does not explain how it came about that mankind in all ages have adhered with singular pertinacity to the notion that religion could teach that on which philosophy must perforce be silent. has not the greater intellect ever been on the side of philosophy? nay,[ ] in the epochs in which intellectual superiority was undeniably on the side of philosophy, did the populace go to the academy or to the oracles? if the human intellect had originally framed the ritualistic observances, which bore so strange a resemblance in different parts of the world; if human sagacity had originated the idea of sacrifice (and wherefore sacrifice from the point of view of human sagacity?); if philosophy had revealed to them the religious conceptions which they retained, and had been able to define the relation of man to the divinity--would not mankind, in all ages, have had recourse to its greatest intellects for the solution of its doubts, rather than to the guardians of an obscure and corrupt tradition? the question no doubt is complicated with the evidence as to demonolatry; but the extent to which this prevailed only enforces the argument against mr baring gould, to whom, apparently, the demon (p. ) is not a real existence, but only the embodiment of a phase of thought, and must seriously embarrass those who attribute the regeneration of man from savagery to intellectual growth and natural progress. [ ] "the lively grecian, in a land of hills, rivers, and fertile plains, and sounding shores, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . in despite of the gross fictions chanted in the streets by wandering rhapsodists, and in contempt of doubt and bold denial hourly urged amid the wrangling schools, a spirit hung, beautiful region! o'er thy towns and farms, statues and temples, and memorial tombs; and emanations were perceived, and acts of immortality, in nature's course, exemplified by mysteries that were felt as bonds, _on grave philosopher imposed_, and armed warrior; and in every grove a gay or pensive tenderness prevailed, when piety more awful had relaxed." --wordsworth, _excursion_, b. iv. but demonology apart, what would have countervailed against the superiority of reason and the intellectual prestige of the world except a belief in a tradition of primitive revelation? what else will account for the different recognitions of philosophy and religion--priests and sophists? what else would have prevented mankind from resorting in their difficulties to where the greatest intellect was found? at page , this truth seems to gain partial recognition in the pages of mr baring gould:-- "in conclusion, it seems certain that for man's spiritual well-being, these forces ('the tendency to crystallise, and the tendency to dissolve') need co-ordination. under an infallible guide, regulating every moral and theological item of his spiritual being, his mental faculties are given him that they may be atrophied, like the eyes of the oyster, which, being useless in the sludge of its bed, are re-absorbed. under a perpetual modification of religious belief, his convictions become weak and watery, without force, and destitute of purpose. in the barren wilderness of sinai there are here and there green and pleasant oases. how come they there? by basaltic dykes arresting the rapid drainage which leaves the major part of that land bald and waste. so in the region of religion, _revelations and theocratic systems have been the dykes saving it_ from barrenness, and encouraging mental and sentimental fertility" (p. ). it is impossible that we should quarrel with this illustration, it is so exactly to our point. is it not another way of affirming the position which i maintain against sir john lubbock? (ch. xii.) may not we, too, take our stand upon these "oases" of tradition, which "revelations" and "theocratic systems" have formed, and ask what the human intellect has been able to achieve for the spiritual cravings of man in the waste around? mr baring gould, indeed, says (p. ):-- "a power of free volition within or outside all matter in motion was a rational solution to the problems of effects of which man could not account himself the cause. such is the origin of the idea of god--of god _whether many_, inhabiting each brook and plant, and breeze and planet, _or as_ being a world-soul, _or as_ a supreme cause, the creator and sustainer of the universe. the common consent of mankind has been adduced as a proof of a tradition of a revelation in past times; but the fact that most races of men believe in one or more deities proves nothing more than that all men have drawn the same inference from the same premises. it is idle to speak of a 'sensus numinis' as existing as a primary conviction in man, when the conception may be reduced to more rudimentary ideas. the revelation is in man's being, in his conviction of the truth of the principle of causation, and thus it is a revelation made to every rational being." grant that it is so, there is nothing here which militates against our position, which is this,--not certainly that there is not a revelation of god in man's being, made to every rational creature, but that there has been an express revelation superadded to it; and that it is not true that "the common consent of mankind to the existence of god has been adduced as a proof of a tradition of a revelation in past times," but that the mode and manner of the consent attests the fact of tradition and the fact of revelation. but what have we just heard? that there is a revelation of god's existence in man's nature, _i.e._ in _each_ man's nature--"it is a revelation made to every man's nature." then the indefinite lapse of time demanded for the evolution of the ideas, which we have just been combating, is not after all necessary. "_habemus reum confitentum._" but inasmuch as the consent of mankind is only "to one or more deities," it is only so far a testimony to the existence of god as it is shown that polytheism arose out of the corruption of this belief; and, moreover, by no means proves "that all men have drawn the same inference from the same premises," even if it were possible to reconcile this statement with what is said at page --"the shapeless religion of a primitive people gradually assumes a definite form. it is that of nature-worship. _it progresses through_ polytheism and idolatry, _and emerges into_ monotheism or pantheism" (_vide infra_). at this point i should wish to put in the accumulation of evidence which l'abbe gainet has collected to prove that monotheism was the primitive belief.[ ] when this evidence is dispersed, it will be time enough to return to the subject. [ ] "monotheisme des peuples primitifs," in vol. iii. of "la bible sans la bible." in any case, we may fall back upon the following testimony in mr baring gould:-- "it is the glory of the semitic race to have given to the world, in a compact and luminous form, that monotheism which the philosophers of greece and rome only vaguely apprehended, and which has become the heritage of the christian and mohammedan alike. of the semitic race, however, one small branch, jewdom, preserved and communicated the idea. every other branch of that race _sank into_ polytheism (_vide supra_).... it is at first sight inexplicable that jewish monotheism, which was in time to exercise such a prodigious influence over men's minds, should have so long remained the peculiar property of an insignificant people. but every religious idea has its season, and the thoughts of men have their avatars.... it was apparently necessary that mankind should be given full scope for unfettered development, that they should feel in all directions after god, if haply they might find him, in _order that_ the foundations of _inductive philosophy might be laid_, that the religious idea might run itself out through polytheistic channels _for the development of art_. certainly jewish monotheism remained in a state of congelation till the religious thought of antiquity _had exhausted its own vitality_, and _had worked out every other problem of theodicy_; then suddenly thawing, it poured over the world its fertilising streams" (p. ).[ ] [ ] mr b. gould also says, p. --"the semitic divine names bear _indelibly on their front the stamp of their origin_, and the language itself testifies against the insulation and abstraction of these names from polytheism. the aryan's tongue bore no such testimony to him. the spirit of his language _led him away from monotheism_, whilst that of the shemite was an ever-present monitor, directing him to a god, sole and undivided. 'the glory of the semitic race is this,' says m. renan, 'that from _its earliest days_ it grasped that notion of the deity which all other people have had to adopt from its example, and on the faith of its declaration.'" from all this it results that, so far as the testimony of the semitic race is concerned (which, by the by, a concurrence of tradition points to as the oldest), the human race did not "emerge into monotheism," but "sank into polytheism;" that monotheism was their belief from "their earliest days," and their language bearing testimony to the same, shows also that it was primitively so. it moreover results, that although mankind may have been allowed to sink into polytheism, as a warning or a chastisement, it certainly could not have been "in order that the foundations of inductive philosophy might be laid;" for it is quite apparent from this extract that the induction was _never made_ that man did _not_ "emerge into monotheism;" but that having "_exhausted its vitality_," and "worked out every problem of theodicy" in the way of corruption, it _received_ monotheism back again from the only people who had preserved it intact. at any rate, monotheism came to it _ab extra_, and before polytheism had attained the "full scope of that development" which was necessary for the perfection of art! but mr baring gould having a perception that this admission (although he has not apparently seen its full significance) is fatal to his theory, hastens to unsay it at page , "whence did the jews derive their monotheism? monotheism is _not_ a feature of any primitive religion; but that which is a feature of secondary religions is the appropriation to a tribe of a particular god, which that tribe exalts above all other gods." in support of this view, mr baring gould quotes certain texts of scripture--isa. xxxvi. , (_i.e._ words spoken by rabsaces the assyrian), and jos. xxiv. , "but if it seem evil to you to serve _the lord_, you have your choice: choose this day that which pleaseth you, whom you would rather serve, whether the gods which your fathers served in mesopotamia [query, an allusion to the idolatry in the patriarchal households? gen. xxxv. , "the gods" being of the same kind with "the gods of the amorites"], or the gods of the amorites, in whose land you dwell; but as for me and my house, we will serve _the lord_." one would have thought this text too plain to be cavilled at. is not _the lord_ whom josue invokes _the same lord_ who (gen. i. ) "in the beginning created heaven and earth," and who said to noah (gen. vi. ), "i will destroy _man whom i have created_, from the face of the earth;" and who (exod. iii. ) appeared to moses in a flame of fire in the bush which was not consumed; and to whom moses said, "lo, i shall go to the children of israel, and say to them, _the god of your fathers_ hath sent me to you; if they should say to me, what is his name? what shall i say to them? (ver. ), god said to moses, _i am who am_: he said thus shalt thou say to the children of israel, _he who is_ hath sent me to you." when or where has monotheism been more explicitly declared? is there any phrase which the human mind could invent in which it could be more adequately defined? and when god speaks as "the god of abraham, of isaac, and of jacob," is it not as if he would say, i am not only the god who speaks to the individual heart, but who is _also traditionally_ known to you all collectively through my manifestations and revelations to your forefathers? compare matt. xxii. . _inter alia_, mr b. gould also instances such unmistakable orientalisms as "'among the gods there is none like unto thee, o lord,' says david, and he exalts jehovah above the others as a 'king above all gods.'" where, then, may we ask, is the monotheism, "the glory of the semitic race," to be found, if not in the time of david? the proof which follows is more clinching still-- "jacob seems to have made a sort of bargain with jehovah that he would serve him instead of other gods, on condition that he took care of him during his exile from home. the _next_ stage in popular jewish theology was a denial of the power of the gentile gods, and the treatment of them as idols. tradition and history point to abraham as the first on whom the idea of the impotence of the deities of his father's house first broke. he is said to have smashed the images in nahor's oratory, and to have put a hammer into the hands of one idol which he left standing, as a sign to nahor that that one had destroyed all the rest." unfortunately for this view--according to the only authentic narrative we have of the facts, gen. xii.--abraham must have preceded jacob by at least two generations! i think that, after this, we may fairly ask mr baring gould, who is learned in medieval myths, to trace for us more distinctly the notion of the chronicler who had a theory that henry ii. lived before henry i. with this passage i shall conclude this chapter, merely observing, that if any department of study existed which had for its special object the investigation of tradition,[ ] it is simply impossible that a work (clever in many respects) such as that of mr baring gould should ever have been written. [ ] i append, however, the following passage from mr baring gould, as it may be serviceable in tracing tradition, and to which i may have occasion to recur (p. ):--"among the american indians an object of worship, and the centre of a cycle of legend, is michabo, the great hare or rabbit. from the remotest wilds of the north-west to the coast of the atlantic, from the southern boundaries of carolina to the cheerless swamps of hudson's bay, the algonquins are never tired of gathering round the winter fire, and repeating the story of manibozho or michabo, the great hare. with entire unanimity, their various branches, the powhatans, &c., ... and the western tribes, perhaps without exception, spoke of this 'chimerical beast,' as one of the old missionaries called it, as their common ancestor (brinton's "myths of the new world," p. ). michabo is described as having been four-legged, monstrous, crouching on the face of the primeval waste of waters, with all his court, composed of four-footed creatures, around him. he formed the earth out of a grain of sand taken from the bottom of the ocean. it is strange that such an insignificant creature as a hare should have received this apotheosis, and it has been generally regarded as an instance of the senseless brute-worship of savages. but its prevalence leads the mythologist to suspect that some confusion of words has led to a confusion of ideas, a suspicion which becomes a certainty when the name is analysed, for it is then found to be the great white one, or great light, and to be in reality the sun, a fact of which the modern indians are utterly unaware." if mr baring gould finds that the word michabo also signifies "the great light," or "the great white one," it goes far to identify the worship of the hare with the worship of the sun, more especially when it is noted (_vide_ prescott's "conquest of mexico," i. ) that the hare was one of the four hieroglyphics of the year among the ancient mexicans.[a] animal worship seems here plainly connected with sun-worship. but above and beyond it, do we not here also get a glimpse of more celestial light? "the great light" is also "the great white one." he is described as "crouching on the face of the primeval waste of waters." in these phrases we seem almost to read the text of gen. i. , "and god said, be light, and light was made;" ver. , "darkness was on the face of the deep, and the spirit of god moved over the waters." the indians also say that he "formed the earth out of a grain of sand taken from the bottom of the ocean." does not this not only embody the tradition that god created the world out of nothing, but also the mode of the creation by the separation of the water from the land: ver. , "god also said, let the waters that are under the heavens be gathered together in one place; and let the dry land appear.... and god called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters he called seas." [a] these hieroglyphics were symbolical of the four elements. prescott adds--"it is not easy to see the connection between the terms 'rabbit' and 'air,' which lead the respective series." possibly he may not have been aware of the tradition of the algonquins as above. appendix to chapter vii. cardinal wiseman ("lectures on science and religion," ii. - ), in speaking of what was characteristic of most oriental religions--a belief "in the existence of emanated influences intermediate between the divine and earthly natures," is led on to give an account of the curious gnostic sect, the nazarians--"the first of these errors was common, perhaps, to other gnostic sects; but in the codex nasaræus we have the two especially distinguished as different beings--light and life. in it the first emanation from god is the king of light; the second, fire; the third, water; the fourth, life." i wish to note that, whether or not their notions as to emanations originally meant more than the act of creation, a tradition as to the successive order of the creation seems clearly embodied in the text. god created first of all light; _then_ the sun (the firmament) is fire (the distinct creation of the light and the sun in genesis is so marked as to create a special difficulty in the cosmogony); _then_ water; _then_ life, in beasts, birds, reptiles, &c.; lastly, man. comp. with _supra_, p. , and with the above legend of michabo. "a slavonian account of creation.--the current issue of the literary society of prague includes a volume of popular tales collected in all the slavonian countries, and translated by m. erben into czech. we extract the shortest--'_in the beginning there was only god, and he lay asleep and dreamed._ at last it was time for him to wake and look at the world. wherever he looked through the sky, a star came out. he wondered what it was, and got up and began to walk. at last he came to our earth; he was very tired; the sweat ran down his forehead, and a drop fell on the ground. we are all made of this drop, and that is why we are the sons of god. man was not made for pleasure; he was born of the sweat of god's face, and now he must live by the sweat of his own: that is why men have no rest.'"--_the academy_, feb. , . i wish also to examine, in greater detail than i should have had space for in a note, how far the case of the samoyeds bears out mr baring gould's theory of the development of idolatry from its grosser to its more refined manifestations, or of the progress of the human race from barbarism to the light of religion and of civilisation. mr baring gould says, p. -- "'when a schaman is aware that i have no household god,' said a samoyed to m. castren, the linguist, 'he comes to me, and i give him a squirrel, or an ermine skin.' this skin he brings back moulded 'into a human shape.' ... 'this los is a fetish; it is not altogether an idol; it is a spirit entangled in a material object. what that object is matters little; a stump of a tree, a stone, a rag, or an animal, serves the purpose of condensing the impalpable deity into a tangible reality.' through this coarse superstition glimmers an intelligent conception. it is that of an all-pervading deity, who is focussed, so to speak, in the fetish. this deity is called num. 'i have heard some samoyeds declare that the earth, the sea--all nature, in short--are num.' 'where is num? asked castren of a samoyed, and the man pointed to the blue sea: but an old woman told him that the sun was num. the siethas, worshipped by the lapps, had no certain figure or shape formed by nature or art; they were either trees or rough stones, much _worn by water_. tomæus says they were often mere tree stumps with the roots upwards."[ ] [ ] is not "num" cognate to "numen?" and their worship of trees and worn stones worship of memorials of the deluge? compare boulanger, _infra_, ch. xi., and on the regard for boulders in india (_vide_ gainet, vol. i.) bryant ("mythology," iii. ) says, speaking of the egyptians--"i have mentioned that they showed a reverential regard to fragments of rock which were particularly uncouth and horrid; and this practice seems to have prevailed in _many other countries_." probably for the same reason the lapps worshipped their lakes and rivers, as is known from the names annexed to them--"ailekes jauvre," that is, sacred lake, &c. _vide_ pinkerton, i. . (leems.) it is curious to contrast this recent account of the samoides with an account, apparently well informed and discriminating, in . pinkerton, i. --"the religion of the samoides is very simple.... they _admit the existence of a supreme being_, creator of all things, eminently good and beneficent; a quality which, according to their mode of thinking, dispenses them from any adoration of him, or addressing their prayers to him, because they suppose this being takes no interest in mundane affairs; and consequently, does not exact nor need the worship of man. they join to this idea that of a being eternal and invisible, very powerful, though subordinate to the first, and disposed to evil. it is to this being that they ascribe all the misfortunes which befall them in this life. nevertheless, they do not worship, although much in fear of him. if they place any reliance in the counsels of koedesnicks or tadebes (the 'schamans' referred to above), it is only on account of the connection which they esteem these people to have with this evil being; otherwise they submit themselves with perfect apathy to all the misfortunes which can befall them." "the sun and moon, as well, hold the place of subaltern deities. it is by their intervention, they imagine, that the supreme being dispenses his favours; but they worship them as little as the idols or fitches (fetishes) which they carry about them according to the recommendation of their koedesnicks." without pursuing the investigation further, it seems plain that the samoides, from being (at least) deists in the last century (dr hooker, "himalayan journal," gives a similar account of the lepchas), have lapsed, apparently through sun-worship, to a state of pantheism, if not fetishism. of the tongusy, a people who, if not kin to the samoides, have an analogous worship--("they are altogether unacquainted with any kind of literature, and worship the sun and moon. they have many shamans among them, who differ little from those i formerly described."--bell's "travels in asia, siberia")--bell, travelling in siberia, , says--"although i have observed that the tongusy in general worship the sun and moon, there _are many exceptions_ to this observation. i have found intelligent people among them who believed there was a being superior to both sun and moon, and who _created them and all the world_." if, then, we may connect the tongusy with the samoides, it would appear that whereas mr baring gould (_i.e._, castren) finds the latter sunk in fetishism, they were, the one in , the other in , the worshippers of the sun and moon, joined with the knowledge and tradition of the true god still subsisting amongst them. f. schlegel ("phil. of history," p. ) says--"the greeks, who described india in the time of alexander the great, divided the indian religious sects into brachmans and _samaneans_.... but by the greek denomination of _samaneans_ we must certainly understand the buddhists, as among the _rude nations of central asia_, as in other countries, the priests of the religion of fo bear _at this day_ the name of _schamans_." compare professor rawlinson, "ancient monarchies," i. , . (_vide infra_, p. , , .) chapter viii. _mythology._ since all antediluvian traditions meet in noah, and are transmitted through him, there is an _à priori_ probability that we shall find all the antediluvian traditions confused in noah. i shall discuss this further when i come to regard him under the aspect of saturn. as a consequence, we must not expect to find (the process of corruption having commenced in the race of ham, almost contemporaneously with noah) a pure and unadulterated tradition anywhere; and i allege more specifically, that whenever we find a tradition of noah and the deluge, we shall find it complicated and confused with previous communications with the almighty, and also with traditions of adam and paradise. but inasmuch as the tradition is necessarily through noah, and in any case applies to him at one remove, it does not greatly affect the argument i have in hand. there is a further probability which confronts us on the outset, that in every tradition, with the lapse of time, though the events themselves are likely to be substantially transmitted, they may become transposed in their order of succession. we shall see this in the case of noah and his posterity. the principal cause being, that the immediate founder of the race is, as a rule, among all the nations of antiquity, deified and placed at the head of every genealogy and history. "joves omnes reges vocârunt antiqui." thus belus, whom modern discovery seems certainly to have identified with nimrod, in the chaldean mythology appears as jupiter, and even as the creator separating light from darkness (rawlinson, "ancient monarchies," i. ; gainet, "hist. de l'anc. et nouv. test.," i. ). but nimrod is also mixed up with jupiter in the god bel-merodach. in more natural connection nimrod--("who may have been worshipped in different parts of chaldea under different titles," rawlinson, i. )--_nimrod_ appears as the _father_ of _hurki_ the moon-god, whose worship he probably introduced; and, what is much more to the point, he appears as the father of nin (whom i shall presently identify with noah); whilst in one instance, at least, the genealogy is inverted, and he appears as the _son of nin_. thus, too, hercules and saturn are confounded, just as we find adam and noah confounded ("many classical traditions, we must remember, identified hercules with saturn," _vide_ rawlinson, i. ). also in grecian mythology prometheus (adam) figures as the son of deucalion (noah), and also of japetus (japhet); and so, too, adam and noah, in the mahabharata, are equally in tradition in the person of manou (_vide_ gainet, i. ), and in mexico in the person of the god quetzalcoatl (_vide infra_, p. ). before, however, pursuing the special subject of this inquiry further, it appears to me impossible to avoid an argument on a subject long debated, temporarily abandoned through the exhaustion of the combatants, and now again recently brought into prominence through the writings of mr gladstone, dr dollinger, mr max müller, and others--the source and origin of mythology.[ ] [ ] this chapter was written before the publication of mr cox's "mythology of the aryan nations." it will be seen, however, that i indulge the hope that much that is seductive, and much even that is systematic, in mr cox's view, will be found to be compatible with the line i have indicated. now, here, i am quite ready to adopt, in the first place, the opinion of l'abbé gainet, that every exclusive system must come to naught, "que toutes les tentatives qu'on ai faites pour expliquer le polythéisme par un système exclusif tombent à faux et n'expliquent rien." yet, whilst fully admitting an early and perhaps concurrent admixture of sabaism,[ ] i consider that the facts and evidence contained in the pages of rawlinson will enable us to arrive at the history of idolatry by a mode much more direct than conjecture. the pages of rawlinson prove the identity of nimrod and belus, and his worship in the earliest times. on the other hand, there has been a pretty constant tradition[ ] that nimrod first raised the standard of revolt against the lord; and the erection of the tower of babel seems to show a state of things ripe for idolatry. here recent discovery and ancient tradition concur in establishing hero-worship as among the earliest forms of idolatry. but further, the arab tradition of nimrod's apotheosis, analogous to the mysterious and miraculous disappearance of enoch (_vide infra_, p. ), suggests how hero-worship might become almost identical with the worship of spirits, which l'abbé gainet inclines to think the first and most natural mode. if there was a tradition among them that one of their ancestors was raised up to heaven,[ ] why may they not have argued, when their minds had become thoroughly corrupted, that their immediate ancestor, the mighty nimrod, had been so raised? and when one ancestor was deified the rest would have been deified in sequence, or according to their relationship to him. what, again, more likely than that, when through the corruptions of mankind the communications of the most high ceased, they should turn to those to whom the communications had been made, at first perhaps innocently in intercession, and, as corruption deepened, in worship?[ ] [ ] philo. _apud_ eusebius, who has transmitted the phoenician tradition (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. ), seems to me to indicate the mode in which it came about in the following words--"now chronos, whose phoenician epithet was el, _a ruler of the land_, and subsequently after his death, _deified_ in the constellation of kronos (saturn)," &c. as to saturn, _vide_ ch. x. in the cosmical theory there is analogy as to the process of deification--"in the phoenician cosmogonies, the connection between the highest god and a subordinate male and female demiurgic principle is of frequent occurrence" (bunsen, iv. ). it would seemingly be more in fitness with a cosmical theory to find direct adoration of the principle, without evidence of any previous or concurrent process of deification. mr w. palmer ("egyptian chronicles," i. ) says--"but when we find the rulers of the first two periods in the chronicle, its xiii. gods and viii. demigods, answering closely to the two generations of the antediluvian and post-diluvian patriarchs in number, and therefore also in the average length of the reigns and generations; and when we know, besides, as we do, that the pantheon of the egyptians and other nations, which they said had all borrowed from them, was peopled, in part at least, _with deified ancestors_--for even the heavenly luminaries, and the _elements_, and _powers of nature_, and _notions of the true god still remaining_, or of angels and demons, so far as they were invested with humanity and sex, _were identified with human ancestors_; we cannot doubt that kronos," &c. [ ] "venator contra dominum," st augustine; "cité de dieu," xvi. ch. iv.; pastoret, "hist. de la legislation." [ ] gen. v. , says only--"and he walked with god, and was seen no more: because god took him." (_vide_ also john iii. .) there might still have been the belief and tradition (according to appearances) that he was so raised. (compare kings ii. , and ecclesiasticus, xliv. .) [ ] i believe, however, that the apostasy in the hamitic race generally was much more direct; and i entirely agree with bryant that it must have resulted at an early period in a systematic scheme of mixed solar and ancestral worship. therefore, in any hamitic tradition, we shall not be startled at finding (even in the commemorative ceremonies of the deluge) evidence of solar mythology inextricably blended with ancestral traditions. we, however, are only concerned with the ancestral traditions, and in so far as we can discriminate them, mr cox's evidence of solar mythology will form no barrier to our inquiry. in the preceding page i have quoted a passage from sanchoniathon, which seems to indicate the mode in which the mixed system arose; but there "cronos" (noah) is deified in the planet saturn. as a rule, however, we find him deified in the sun (bryant, ii. , , ). ham, however, is sometimes also deified in the sun; and in cases where ham is so deified, it is not unlikely that we shall find the patriarch relegated to saturn. l'abbé gainet, in another part of his work, draws attention to the worship of ancestors in china, and asks whether the idols of laban had reference to more than some such secondary objects? it will be recollected that it was precisely the extent to which this veneration was to be considered culpable which was the subject-matter of the unfortunate disputes between certain religious orders in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (_vide_ huc's "chinese empire," and cretineau joly's "hist. de la com. de jesus," vol. iii. chap. iii., and vol. v. chap. i.) indeed, among the semitic races it may never have degenerated into idolatry. still it appears to me that weight should be attached to this tendency, more especially in primitive times, when the recollection of ancestors who had been driven out of paradise, to whom direct revelations had been made, and who were naturally reputed to have been "nearer to the gods" (plato, cicero[ ]), would have been all in all to their descendants. then, again, as we have just seen, there was the tradition among them of one man who had been carried up into heaven, and accordingly, when hero-worship culminated in the deification of man, we are not surprised to find it taking the form of this apotheosis as in the identification of nimrod and enoch. [ ] "quoniam antiquitas proxime accedit ad deos."--_de legibus_, ii. . this tendency to idolatry through hero-worship seems to me so natural and direct, that i think, apart from the facts _à priori_, i should have been led to the conclusion that it was the actual manner in which it was brought about.[ ] it is not denied, on the other hand, that there always has been a tendency to nature-worship also; and, indeed, there is probably a stage during which every mythology will be found to have come under its influence. but the inclination at the present moment is unmistakably to an exclusive astral or solar system. the point of interest which excites me to this inquiry is simply to determine the value of the historical traditions which may lie embedded in these systems; and i shall be content to find them, whether or not they form the primary nucleus, or whether only subsequently imported into, and blended with, solar mythology. it is easy to conceive how a mythology embodying historical traditions could pass into an astral system. in this case incongruity would not startle; but it is difficult to imagine a pure astral system which would not be too harmonious and symmetrical to admit of the grossness, inconsistency, and incongruity to which the process of adaptation would inevitably give rise, and to which hero-worship is inherently prone. as mr gladstone says (homer, ii. ):-- "there is much in the theo-mythology of homer which, if it had been a system founded on fable, could not have appeared there. it stands before us like one of our old churches, having different parts of its fabric in the different styles of architecture, each of which speaks for itself, and which we know to belong to the several epochs in the history of the art when their characteristic combinations were respectively in vogue." [ ] the adverse decision, in the matter of the ceremonies, did not, i apprehend, touch the question we are now considering, albeit the ceremonies had reference to deceased ancestors. this will be apparent, i think, from consideration of the grounds upon which the question was debated. the jesuits relied upon the sense in which the ceremonies were regarded by the mandarins and literary men whom they consulted, whilst their opponents supported their arguments by reference to the popular notions and the superstitious practices _introduced_ by the bonzes. (_vide_ cretineau joly's "hist. de la com. de jesus," vol. v. chap. i.) mr gladstone (_passim_) victoriously combats the theory of nature-worship as applied to grecian mythology; but it appears to me that his argument and mode of reasoning would apply with tenfold effect to the chaldean mythology, where there is a likelihood at least that we shall view idolatry in its early commencements. i consider that this view is borne out by the following passage from professor rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. :-- "in the first place, it must be noticed that the religion was to a certain extent _astral_. the heaven itself, the sun, the moon, and the five planets, have each their representative in the chaldean pantheon among the chief objects of worship. at the same time it is to be observed, that the astral element is not universal, but partial; and that even where it has place, it is but one aspect of the mythology, not by any means its full and complete exposition. the chaldean religion even here is far from being mere sabeanism--the simple worship of the 'host of heaven.' the ether, the sun, the moon, and still more the five planetary gods, are something above and beyond those parts of nature. like the classical apollo and diana, mars and venus, they are real persons, with a life and a history, a power and an influence, which no ingenuity can translate into a metaphorical representation of phenomena attaching to the air and to the heavenly bodies. it is doubtful, indeed, whether this class of gods are really of astronomical origin, and not rather primitive deities, whose characters and attributes were, to a great extent, fixed and settled before the notion arose of connecting them with certain parts of nature. occasionally they seem to represent heroes rather than celestial bodies; and they have all attributes quite distinct from their physical and astronomical character. "secondly, the striking resemblance of the chaldean system to that of the classical mythology, seems worthy of particular attention. this resemblance is too general and too close in some respects to allow of the supposition that mere accident has produced the coincidence." the evidence in the "ancient monarchies" seems to me to decide the point, not only for perhaps the earliest mythology with which we are acquainted, but also for the grecian mythology, which has generally been the ground of dispute. it is curiously in illustration, however, of the common origin of mythology, that the mythology of greece should be equally well traced to assyria and egypt. as evidence of the theory according to the assyrian origin, let us turn, for instance, to professor rawlinson's identification of nergal with mars. it is true he appears as the planet mars under the form of "nerig," and he also figures as the storm-ruler; but can anything well be more human than the rest of his titles? "his name is evidently compounded of the two hamitic roots 'nir' = a man, and 'gula' = great; so that he is 'the great man' or 'the great hero.' his titles are 'the king of battle,' 'the champion of the gods,' 'the strong begetter,' 'the tutelar god of babylonia,' and 'the god of the _chase_.'... we have no evidence that nergal was worshipped in the primitive times. he is just mentioned by some of the early assyrian kings, who regard him as _their ancestor_.... it is conjectured that, like bil-nipru, he represents the _deified hero nimrod_, who may have been worshipped in different parts of chaldea under different titles.... it is probable that nergal's symbol was the man-lion. nir is sometimes used in the inscriptions in the meaning of lion, and the semitic name for _the god himself_ is 'aria,' the ordinary term for the king of beasts both in hebrew and syriac. perhaps we have here the true derivation of the greek name for the god of war 'ares' ([greek: arês]), which has _long puzzled classical scholars_. the lion would symbolise both the hunting and the fighting propensities of the god, for he not only engages in combats, but often chases his prey and runs it down like a hunter. again, if nergal is the man-lion, his association in the buildings with the _man-bull_ would be exactly parallel with the conjunction which _we so constantly find between him and nin in the inscriptions_."[ ]--_rawlinson_, i. - . [ ] "notwithstanding his stature, beauty, hand, and voice, which constitute, taken together, a proud appearance, it seems as if mars had stood lower in the mind of homer than any olympian deity who takes part in the trojan war, except venus only."--_gladstone's "homer,"_ ii. . i must draw attention also to the remarkable absence here of all the monotheistic epithets we shall find attached to ana, enu, and hoa.[ ] [ ] _vide infra_, next chap. ix. let us now turn to the theory which is most in the ascendant, and which professes to see in the old mythological legends only the thoughts and metaphors of a mythic period. this theory, which was mr max müller's in the first instance, being not only exclusively drawn from the conclusions of philology, but also exclusive in itself, cannot be anywhere stronger than its weakest point. if it is shown in the instance of one primary myth, that it was the embodiment of an historical legend, or theological belief, the whole ideal structure of a mythic period must collapse; for the rejection of eclecticism in any form, which would embrace a biblical or euhemeristic interpretation of the myths, is at the foundation of mr max müller's idea, and, indeed, would be incompatible with the theory of a mythic period such as he conceives it. the connection of nimrod with nergal in the assyrian mythology, of nergal with their planet nerig, and of the semitic name of the god "aria" with the greek [greek: arês] and the latin mars, must, i think, form a chain of evidence destined to embarass mr max müller and mr cox: for, apart from the numerous points of contact of the assyrian and egyptian with the greek mythologies, it can hardly be contended that there was a mythic period for the aryan which was not common to the whole human race. it would be natural to suppose, that a mythology which was generated in a mythic period--which was the invention of mankind in a peculiar state of the imagination--would have been developed in its fulness and completeness, like minerva starting from the brain of jupiter, and would have borne the evidence of its origin in the symmetry of its form. mr max müller, on the contrary, seems to yield the whole position, in what, from his point of view, looks like an inadvertent phrase, that "there were myths before there was a mythology." it is not that the view is not true, or that it is inconsistent with his analysis of the myths, but that it is so perfectly consistent with ours! incongruity, such as would come from the confusion of separate myths, would be no difficulty for us; but it is hard to understand how mere fragmentary legends--sometimes attractive, but more frequently repulsive and revolting, having no hold on what is nearest the heart of a people, the traditions of its past--should have been so tenaciously preserved for so long a time under such different conditions in various countries. solar legends, spun out of confused metaphors, seem an inadequate explanation, unless we also suppose idolatry of the sun. in that case, the mythology, in so far as it was solar, would precede the myths; in other words, the myths would be radiations from a central idea. that in the day when mankind prevaricated after this fashion, and committed the act of idolatry in their hearts, everything, from the phenomena of nature to the remote events of their history, would come under the influence of a new set of ideas may be easily conceived. at such a period--and the commencement of these things at least was not impossible in the days when, in the spirit of mistrust or defiance, men drew together to build the city and tower in the plain of sennaar (shinar)--much of what mr cox supposes to have been the common parlance of mankind becomes natural, and a mythic period within these limits conceivable. but such a theory would not necessarily be exclusive of other forms of idolatry--as, for instance, the worship of ancestors--whilst it might clear up obscure points in the evidence which tends to establish the latter. the theory, however, must embrace many shades and gradations--from the hamitic extreme to the protomyths, which in time obscured the monotheism of the aryan of ancient greece, and of the peruvian incas. (p. .) this would seem, unless they ignore all difficulties, a better standpoint for those who think, through the application of the solar legends, "to unlock almost all the secrets of mythologies;" and any theory connected with the sun and sun-worship has this advantage, that it can be extended to everything under the sun! it is sufficiently obvious that no system can be held to have settled these questions, which, if there were myths before there was a mythology, does not appropriate these antecedent myths, or exclude counter explanations; and it is equally clear that there can have been no mythology of which the solar legends were the offspring, if the legends embody thoughts which transcend the mythology; and no mythic period if they testify to facts and ideas incompatible with its existence. allowing for a certain confusion arising out of "polyonomy," this sort of confusion, if there were nothing else, ought not to baffle the ingenuity of experts like mr max müller and mr cox. such complications should be as easily disentangled as the superadded figures in egyptian chronology (_vide_ chapter vi.) when the key has been found. but does mr max müller profess to have brought the various legends into harmony? on the contrary (ii. ), he frankly admits--"much, no doubt, remains to be done, and _even_ with the assistance of the veda, the whole of greek mythology will never be deciphered and translated." i have no wish to push an admission unfairly, but this appears to me fatal as regards the argument with which i am dealing.[ ] if there are myths which never will be deciphered, this must be because they have had some non-astral or non-solar origin, which i consider to be almost equivalent to saying that they must have had some pre-astral origin. what that precise origin was i think i have been able sufficiently to indicate in italicising the subjoined sentences from mr max müller. if these enigmas can be shown to be strictly local and grecian, _cadit quæstio;_ but if they are common to other mythologies, and these the oldest, i must say they have the look of antecedent existence. at any rate, like those inconvenient boulders in the sand and gravel strata, they require the intervention of some glacial period to account for them.[ ] [ ] mr cox ("mythology," p. xiv.) says--"mythology, as we call it now, is simply a collection of the sayings by which men, once upon a time, described whatever they saw or heard in the countries where they lived. this key, which has unlocked almost all the secrets of mythology, was placed in our hands by professor max müller, who has done more than all other writers to bring out the exquisite and touching poetry which underlies those ancient legends. he has shown us that in this, their first shape, these sayings were all perfectly natural, and marvellously beautiful and true. we see the lovely evening twilight die out, &c.... they said that the beautiful eurydice," &c. (_vide infra_, p. ). it would appear, however, from mr cox's more extended work, "the mythology of the aryan nations," that the sayings of mankind in the mythic period did not extend to speculations as to their origin and destiny, or embrace the facts of their history, or the deeds of their ancestors, but that their whole converse was upon the sun and moon, and the phenomena of the outward world. [ ] mr max müller makes the distinction between "primitive or organic legends" (and it is to these i wish to limit the discussion) "and the second, those which were imported in later times from one literature to another.... the former _represents one common ancient stratum of language and thought_ reaching from india to europe; the latter consist of boulders of various strata carried along by natural and artificial means from one country to another" (ii. ). it is clear that mr max müller looks for _harmony_ in his system--"we naturally look back to the scenes on which the curtain of the past has fallen, _for we believe that there ought to be one thought pervading the whole drama of mankind_. and here history steps in, and gives us the thread which connects the present with the past" (p. ). why it was that harmony was not attained seems to be disclosed, if we read the passage in our sense and with a certain transposition of parts, at p. --"there were at athens then, as there have been at all times and in all countries, men who had no sense for the miraculous and supernatural, and who, without having the moral courage to deny altogether what they could not bring themselves to believe, endeavoured to find some plausible explanation _by which the sacred legends_ which _tradition_ had _handed down to them_, and which had been _hallowed_ by _religious observances_, and sanctioned by the authority of the law, might be brought _into harmony with_ the dictates of reason and the _laws_ of _nature_." (compare with _infra_, p. , maine.) i have already hinted that a further consideration appears to me to incapacitate the theory of nature-worship, in any of its disguises, from being taken as the exclusive, or even the primitive form of idolatry, or of perverted tradition; and it is this,--that all the explanations, even the most ingenious, even those which would be accounted "primitive and organic," have their counter explanations, traceable in the corruptions of truth and the perversions of hero-worship. take, for instance, the name zeus, which is in evidence of the primitive monotheism, and which stood in greece, as il or ra in assyria, for the true lord and god, and which has its equivalents in dyaus ("from the sanscrit word which means 'to shine'"); dyaus-pater (zeus-pater), jupiter; tiu (anglo-saxon, whence tuesday); and zia (high german)--_vide_ cox's "mythology." what more natural than to associate the almighty with the heaven where he dwelt? mr max müller ("comparative myth.," "chips," ii. ) says--"thus [greek: zeus], being originally a name of the sky, like the sanscrit dyaus, became gradually a proper name, which betrayed its appellative meaning only in a few proverbial expressions, such as [greek: zeus hyei], or _sub jove frigido_." taking this passage in connection with what is said (p. , of welcker)--"when we ascend with him to the most distant heights of greek history, the idea of god as the supreme being stands before us as a simple fact. next to the adoration of one god, the father of heaven, the father of men, we find in greece a worship of nature." i conclude that mr max müller means, as mr cox means, that the names, zeus or dyaus, was applied to the one true god, whose existence was otherwise and previously known to them.[ ] at starting, therefore, we find that the language borrowed from nature was only called in to give a colouring and expression to a previously known and familiar truth; and here, too, we also see the commencement of incongruity. the simple idea of the heavens might have been harmoniously extended by the imagination; but, complicated with the idea of personality, it gave birth to the awkward and incongruous expression, "[greek: zeús huei], or _sub jove frigido_," a phrase which never could have been originated by the grecian mind, unless the personality of jove had been the idea most prominently before the mind. but if the knowledge of the deity, or even the conception of the personality of zeus was operative in the mythic period, it must have been operative to the extent of embodying what was known or recollected of his dealings in love and anger with mankind, in the legends which they wove, and also of blending them with the confusions which "polyonomy" occasioned. the introduction of this element would seriously embarass mr cox, and would give to mr gladstone's explanation an "_à priori_" probability. [ ] mr max müller, in his essay on "semitic monotheism," when opposing m. renan's view that the monotheism of the semitic race was instinctive, seems to say this still more explicitly--"he thunders and dyaus thunders became synonymous expressions; and by the mere habit of speech he became dyaus and dyaus became he" ("chips," i. ). "at first the names of god, &c., were honest attempts at expressing or representing an idea which could never find adequate expression or representation.... if the greeks had remembered that zeus was but a name or symbol of the deity, there would have been no more harm in calling god by that name than by any other" ( ). it must be remembered that after the name of "zeus," or "dyaus," = sky, had been adopted, they still retained the conception of the divine nature and personality, as is evidenced in the words of the oracle of dodona--"[greek: zeùs ên, zeus éstín, zeus essetai ô megale zeu],--he was, he is, he will be, o great zeus!" also (ii. ) in the orphic lines-- "zeus is the beginning, zeus the middle; out of zeus all things have been made." if we are agreed upon this, then i have no contention with mr max müller; but with max müller as an auxiliary, i direct my argument to the attack of dr dollinger's position ("the gentile and the jew," i. b. ii. p. )--"the beginnings of greek polytheism," viz., "the deification of nature and her powers, or of particular sensible objects, _lay at the root of all the heathen religions_, as they _existed from old time_, amongst the nations now united under the roman empire." according to mr lewes ("hist. of phil.," i. ), it was xenophanes who first confused the sky with the deity--"overarching him was the deep blue infinite vault, immovable and unchangeable, embracing him and all things--_that he proclaimed_ to be god." (contrast the peruvian tradition, _infra_, p. .) st clement of alexandria (strom. v. p. , max müller, chapter i. p. .) says, on the contrary, that xenophanes maintained that there was but "one god, and that he was not like unto men, either in body or mind." take, again, the following passage from mr max müller (p. )--"the idea of a young hero, whether he is called _baldr_, or sigurd, or sigrit, or achilles, or meleager, or kephalos, dying in the fulness of youth--a story so frequently told, localised, and individualised--was first suggested by the sun dying in all his youthful vigour, either at the end of a day, conquered by the powers of darkness, or at the end of the sunny season, stung by the thorn of winter." here is a myth evidently very widely diffused. let it be interpreted by what is told us at p. -- "_baldr_, in the scandinavian edda, the divine prototype of sigurd and sigrit, is beloved by the whole world. gods and men, the whole of nature, all that grows and lives, had sworn to his mother not to hurt the bright hero. the mistletoe alone, that does not grow on the earth, but on trees, had been forgotten, and with it baldr was killed at the winter solstice.... baldr, whom no weapon pierced or clove, but in his breast stood fix'd the fatal bough of mistletoe, which lok, _the accuser, gave to hoder_, and the unwitting hoder threw; 'gainst that alone had baldr's life no charm." "thus infendiyar, in the persian epic, cannot be wounded by any weapon.... _all these are fragments of solar myths_." one hardly likes to disturb such illusions. solar myths! well, allow me at least to repeat the history which seems to me so very like this myth. many centuries ago, in a beautiful garden which a concurrence of tradition places somewhere in central asia, a man, the first man of our race, framed according to the "divine prototype," dwelt beloved by the whole world. god and the angels, and the whole of nature--all that grows and lives, were agreed that nothing should do him harm. one fruit or growth alone--the mistletoe it may have been--something that does not grow on the earth, but on trees, was excepted; and it was told to this man, whose name was--but we will not anticipate--that on the day on which he touched this fruit he should die the death. it so came about that the accuser, whom some call the serpent, had previously handed it to his companion, and his unwitting companion gave it to him. he took it, and he died. against that fatal bough his life had no charm. no weapon pierced or clove him; for baldr--i should say adam--was invulnerable, as was achilles and meleager, except in one single respect. i believe that instances might be indefinitely multiplied. i shall content myself, however, with the following, which i think will be generally considered among the happiest illustrations of nature worship.[ ] [ ] granting the tendency to nature-worship, i conclude that the conspicuous luminaries of the heavens would become primary objects of such worship. in amusing illustration of this i remember a friend of mine telling me that he happened to ask a young lad, the son of one of his tenants, who had just returned from a voyage to the northern seas, how he liked his captain? he said, "oh, he was an _awful_ man--he swore by the _sun, moon_, and _stars_." still less do i deny the tendency to sun-worship. it was, as gibbon tells us (ii. , iii. ), the last superstition constantine abandoned before his conversion, and the first to which julian betook himself after his apostacy. it may, moreover, be urged, that the sun figures in all these legends. i say, on the other hand, so also does the _serpent_. this serpent may be the serpent "of _darkness_," and still be the serpent of _tradition_, but how darkness or night is aptly personified by a serpent i am at a loss to perceive. then again the sun _may_ always be only the symbol of what is bright and heavenly. but when (max müller, ii. ) we see this serpent zohak, called by the persians "by the name of dehak, _i.e., ten evils_, because he introduced "_ten evils into the world_," we cannot help recalling the profane expressions attributed to the devil when he saw the ten commandments--proscribing the _ten_ evils in question. "and as it is with this sad and beautiful tale of orpheus and euridike (euridice). [the story of euridice was this--'euridice was bitten by _a serpent_, she dies, and descends into the lower regions. orpheus follows her, and obtains from the gods that his wife should follow him if he promised not to look back, &c.' it reads to me like a sad reminiscence of adam and eve.] mr max müller proceeds--'so it is with all those which may seem to you coarse, or dull, or ugly. they are so only because the real meaning of the names has been half-forgotten or wholly lost. oedipus and perseus (_vide_ appendix), we are told, killed their parents, but it was only because the sun was said to kill the darkness from which it seemed to spring.'"[ ] [ ] mr max müller may perhaps lay stress upon the circumstance that baldr dies at the winter solstice. but this equally bears out the tradition noticed by lenormant, that immediately after the fall, there came upon the world a great cold. (_vide supra_, ch. vii.) but why is darkness called the parent of the sun, and not rather light the parent of darkness? and why not a contrary legend founded on this surmise? is it merely accidental that the metaphor is not reversed? compare the above speculation of mr max müller's with the following passage from gainet, "hist. de l'ancien. nouv. test.," i.; "les souvenirs du genre humain," p. :-- "chaos was placed at the commencement of all things in the phoenician cosmogony (euseb. præp. evan. l. i.), as in that of hesiod (theog., p. ). the latter calls upon the muses to tell him what were the beings that appeared first in existence, and he replies--'at the commencement of all things was chaos, and from chaos was born erebus and dark night.' "thus, in the order of existence, as in the order of time, there is a concurrence of profane tradition to place night before day. this is the reason why the scandinavians, the gauls, the germans, the kalmucks, the numidians, the egyptians, and athenians, according to varro and macrobius, count their days, commencing with sunset and not with sunrise." curiously enough, in another chapter on a different subject, mr max müller enables me to clinch this argument against himself. in an article on the "norsemen in iceland," he says--in proof of the genuineness of the edda--"there are passages in the edda which sound like verses from the veda." but what are these verses from the ends of the earth which are identical? let us listen-- "'twas the _morning_ of _time_ when yet _naught was_, nor sand nor sea were there, nor cooling streams; earth was not formed, nor _heaven_ above; a yawning gap there was, and grass nowhere."[ ] [ ] from the "elder edda." (quoted from dr dasent's "norsemen in iceland." oxford essays, .) under these conditions, i think it will be conceded that there was also darkness--and therefore, that the tradition of the precedence of chaos and darkness is confirmed. "a hymn," continues mr max müller, "of the veda begins in a very similar way-- "nor aught, nor naught existed; yon _bright sky was not_, nor heaven's broad roof outstretch'd above, what cover'd all? what shelter'd? what conceal'd? was it the waters' fathomless abyss?" &c. mr max müller adds, "there are several mythological expressions common to _the edda_ and _homer_. in the edda, man is said to have been created out of an _ash tree_. in hesiod, zeus created the third race of men out of _ash_ trees, and that this tradition was not unknown to homer we learn from penelope's address to ulysses--"tell me thy family from whence thou art: for thou art not sprung from the olden trees, or from the rocks" (max müller, ii. ). the tradition about the ash tree in hesiod, homer, and the edda,[ ] is curious but inexplicable: the general drift of the tradition may be determined by the recollection of two facts--that man was created, and that a tree was inseparably connected with his history from its earliest commencement. but i have quoted the passage more especially with reference to its confirmation of the extract from gainet, which attests the wide-spread tradition--so exactly in accordance with the cosmogony of scripture--that chaos was at the commencement of all things, and that darkness existed before light.[ ] i conclude by asking why this should be? when we are in the midst of solar and astral systems and legends, it seems natural that a theory of cosmogony should commence with light rather than darkness--at least, as well that it should commence with light as with darkness. but no, the universal tradition seems against it. much more strange is this if we connect the solar and astral legends with any system of sabaism. these considerations make it plain to me that the solar and astral legends embodied anterior traditions. [ ] what is still more remarkable, the same tradition is found in the "popol vul" (mexican traditions), and as it is there given, fits in still more exactly with the solution i have suggested. it is there said that the _first race_ of men were created "_out the earth_," the third out "_of a tree_ called tzité."[b] _if_ the "popol vul" came under christian or european influences in the th century, it would have been more likely to have been brought into harmony with the bible, rather than with either homer, hesiod, or the edda. let us pursue the myth a little further. mr w. k. kelly, "indo-europ. tradition and folklore" (_vide_ max müller, ii. ) says, "this healing virtue, which the mistletoe shares with the _ash_, is a long descended tradition, for the kushtha ... a healing plant, was one that grew beneath the _heavenly asvattha_," which is elsewhere called "the imperishable asvattha or peepul (_ficus religiosus_), out of which the immortals shaped the heaven and the earth," which legend mr kelly further traces in the german yggdrasil (although mr max müller from his own point of view dissents); at the foot of which tree (p. ) "lies the serpent nidhöggr, and gnaws its roots." neither mr max müller nor mr kelly discuss the point with reference to the view suggested above. [b] _tiki_ was the great progenitor among new zealanders.--_shortland_, p. . [ ] gen. i. , "in the beginning god created heaven and earth. . and the earth was void and empty, and _darkness was_ upon the face _of the deep_; and the spirit of god moved over the waters. . and he called the light day and the darkness night; and there was _evening_ and morning one day." in addition to the instances adduced by gainet, it will be remembered that the jewish sabbath was from evening to evening, and with us the astronomical day commences at noon, and the commencement and termination of the civil day at mean midnight. in the _second_ [chinese] dynasty the day commenced at mid-day. wei-wang, the founder of the _third_ dynasty, fixed it at midnight." (bunsen's "egypt," vol. iii. p. .) in the phoenician cosmogony "the beginning of all was a dark and stormy atmosphere," "thick, unfathomable black chaos." (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. .) the new zealanders have preserved the tradition with still greater distinctness. "in the _beginning of time_ was te po (the night or darkness). in the generations that followed te po came te ao (the light)" &c., &c. (_vide_ shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. .) _vide_ gladstone, "homer," ii. ; cox, "mythology of aryan nations," i. , on the relation of phoibos to leto. "this is precisely the relation in which the _mythical night_ stood to the day which was to be born of _her_." _vide_ on this point wilkinson's "ancient egyptians" (i. chap. xiii.) "the mygale," says champollion, "received divine honours by the egyptians, because it is blind, and _darkness is more ancient than light_." the arabs have the expression "_night and day_" (_vide_ wilkinson). aristotle says "the theologians consider all things to have been born of night." the orphean fragments call "night the genesis of all things.... the anglo-saxons also, like the eastern nations, began their computations of time from night, and the years from that day corresponding with our christmas, which they called "mother night," and the otaheitans refer the existence of their principal deities to a state of darkness, which they consider the origin of all things." (_vide_ gen. i. , ; _id._ p. - .) i think mr max müller will at least recognise them as spots on the disk of his solar theory, and which must ever remain obscure to those who refuse the light of scripture and tradition. appendix to chapter viii. "oedipus, perseus." here again, the explanation of mr max müller, "si non vrai est vraisemblable," and yet i cannot help seeing that the legends of perseus and [oe]dipus may just as well be supposed to embody primitive tradition. let us read the histories of oedipus and perseus in the light of the tradition concerning lamech (gen. iv. , ). "and lamech said to his wives, adah and zillah ... i have slain a man to the wounding of myself, and a stripling to my own bruising. sevenfold vengeance shall be taken for cain, but for lamech seventy times sevenfold." the note to the douay edition says--"it is the tradition of the hebrews that lamech, in hunting, slew cain, mistaking him for a wild beast, and that having discovered what he had done, he beat so unmercifully the youth by whom he was led into that mistake that he died of the blows." oedipus was the son of laius, who had supplanted his brother. oedipus was exposed to destruction as soon as born, because his father had been warned that he must perish by the hand of his son,--but was rescued and brought up by shepherds. hearing from the oracle of delphi (the tradition is of course localised), that if he returned home he must necessarily be the murderer of his father, he avoided the house of polybus, the only home he knew of, and travelled towards phocis (from west to east by the by). (comp. with _infra_, p. .) he met laius, his father, in a narrow road. laius haughtily ordered oedipus to make way for him, which provoked an encounter, in which laius and his armour-bearer were slain. other circumstances, either separate traditions of the same event, or distinct legends, are no doubt mixed up in the narration, but still four facts remain as a residuum available for the comparison. oedipus was the son, as lamech was the grandson, of one who supplanted his brother, both kill their respective progenitors, and in the _casual_ encounter in which in both instances the tragedy occurred, _two_ persons were slain. in this there is a fair outline of resemblance. in the legend of perseus, certainly the legend is more indistinct, et, in one point, that he inadvertently killed his _grandfather_, the coincidence is perfect. and it must be borne in mind that it is not a question of absolute but of comparative resemblance--in fact, a choice between a mythical or an historical, an astral or a scriptural solution, and when you come to degrees of relationship, the astral or solar explanation becomes more attenuated at each remove,--"the father of the sun" may be metaphorically intelligible, but the grandfather of the sun! i see further trace of the tradition of lamech in the phrygian legend of adrastus, somewhat confused in the tradition of cain, and in some points reversed. adrastus, the son of the phrygian king, had _inadvertently killed_ his brother, and was in consequence expelled by his father and deprived of everything. whilst an exile at the court of croesus, he was sent out with prince atys as guardian to deliver the country from a wild boar. adrastus had the misfortune to kill prince atys while aiming at the wild beast. croesus pardoned the unfortunate man, as he saw in this accident the will of the gods, and _the fulfilment of a prophecy_, but adrastus killed himself on the tomb of atys (herod. i. ; smith, "myth. dict.") now let us take up the proof at another point. will any one refuse to see in the following tale from the "gesta romanorum,"[ ] at least a mediæval corruption of the legend of oedipus:--"a certain soldier, called julian, unwittingly killed his parents. for being of noble blood, and addicted as a youth frequently is to the sports of the field, a stag which he hotly pursued suddenly turned round and addressed him--'thou who pursuest me thus fiercely shall be the destruction of thy parents.' these words greatly alarmed julian.... leaving, therefore, his amusement, he went privately into a distant country ... where he marries. it chances that his parents come into that country, and in his absence were received kindly by his wife, who, 'in consideration of the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and commanded another to be prepared elsewhere for herself.' in the meantime, julian returning abruptly home and discovering strangers in his bed, in a fit of passion slays them. when he discovers the parricidal crime he exclaims--'this accursed hand has murdered my parents and fulfilled the horrible prediction which i have struggled to avoid.'" [ ] "gesta romanorum," tale xviii. swan. rivingtons . now, i submit that this is not a greater distortion of the classical stories of oedipus, adrastus, &c., than are the classical legends of the biblical traditions of cain and lamech. for further trace read bunsen, iv. , also, , . mr cox ("mythology of aryan nations") says:--"_the names theseus_, _perseus_, _oidipous, had all been mere epithets_ of one and the same being; but when they ceased to be mere appellatives, these creations of mythical speech were regarded not only as different persons, but as beings in no way connected with each other.... nay, the legends inter-change the method by which the parents seek the death of their children; for there were tales which narrated that oidipous was shut up in an ark which was washed ashore at sikyon," p. . sicyon was the oldest greek city. compare p. of this ch., and ch. on deluge. this was merely the traditional record that the tradition was preserved in the ark, and subsequently emanated from sicyon. ii. prometheus and hercules or herakles. i have elsewhere (p. ) alluded to the confusion of prometheus, as the creator of man, with prometheus, the first man created. but the most curious instance of reduplication is the further confusion of what i may call the human prometheus, with his deliverer hercules,--hercules and prometheus both in different ways embodying traditions of adam! prometheus is the adam[ ] of paradise and the fall, hercules is adam the outcast from paradise, with his skin and club sent forth on his long labours and marches through the world. but how can hercules, who frees prometheus from the rock, be the same as prometheus who is bound to the rock? if, however, we are entitled to hope that adam in the labour of his long exile worked off the sentence and expiated the guilt on account of which adam, the culprit, was sentenced, may we not accept this as an adequate explanation? is it a forced figure that he should be said to unbind him from the rock, to drive off the vulture which preys upon him, and thus finally liberate him? [ ] on this point, that prometheus is adam, _vide_ m. nicolas' "etudes philos. sur le christ.," . ii. ch. v. ( th edit.) this disjunction of adam and separate personification in the two periods of his life, _before_ and _after_ the fall, will accord well enough with the addition in some legends of a brother epimetheus, and i submit that this explanation is as good as that (_vide_ smith's "myth. dict.") which regards the legend as purely allegorical, and _pro_metheus and _epi_metheus as signifying "forethought" and "afterthought." the travels of hercules, it must be confessed, as traditionally recorded, are somewhat eccentric. but are they explicable on any solar theory? he begins by travelling from _west_ to east; he then proceeds _south_, and although he traverses africa westward, he diverges abruptly to the _north_, from which he proceeds south, and ends as he began by travelling from _west_ to east. all this, however, is perfectly explicable if we are prepared to admit bryant's ("mythology," ii. ) historical surmises, and to go along with him so far as to believe that the tradition was mainly preserved through cuthite or _chus_ite channels. we can, then, see a probability in the conjecture that the descendants of chus, in preserving the tradition of the travels of hercules (herakles), superadded or substituted the scenes and incidents of their own wanderings, after they had settled down in the place of their final location. chapter ix. _assyrian mythology._ "but surely there is nothing improbable in the supposition, that in the poems of homer such vestiges may be found. every recorded form of society bears some traces of those by which it has been preceded, and in that highly primitive form, which homer has been the instrument of embalming for all posterity, the law of general reason obliges us to search for elements and vestiges more primitive still.... the general proposition that we may expect to find the relics of scriptural traditions in the heroic age of greece, though it leads, if proved, to important practical results, is independent even of a belief in those traditions, as they stand in the scheme of revealed truth. they must be admitted to have been facts on earth, even by those who would deny them to have been facts of heavenly origin, in the shape in which christendom receives them; and the question immediately before us is one of pure historical probability. the descent of mankind from a single pair, the lapse of that pair from original righteousness, are apart from and ulterior to it. we have traced the greek nation to a source, and along a path of migration which must in all likelihood have placed its ancestry, at some point or points, in close local relations with the scenes of the earliest mosaic records: the retentiveness of that people equalled its receptiveness, and its close and fond association with the past, made it prone indeed to incorporate novel matter into its religion, but prone also to keep it there after its incorporation. "if such traditions existed, and if the laws which guide historical inquiry require or lead us to suppose that the forefathers of the greeks must have lived within their circle, then the burden of proof must lie not so properly with those who assert that the traces of them are to be found in the earliest, that is, the homeric form of the greek mythology, as with those who deny it. what became of those old traditions? they must have decayed and disappeared, not by a sudden process, but by a gradual accumulation of the corrupt accretions, in which at length they were so completely interred as to be invisible and inaccessible. some period, therefore, there must have been at which they would remain clearly perceptible, though in conjunction with much corrupt matter. such a period might be made the subject of record, and if such there were, we might naturally expect to find it in the oldest known work of the ancient literature. "if the poems of homer do, however, contain a picture, even though a defaced picture, of the primeval religious traditions, it is obvious that they afford a most valuable collateral support to the credit of the holy scripture, considered as a document of history. still we must not allow the desire of gaining this advantage to bias the mind in an inquiry, which can only be of value if it is conducted according to the strictest rules of rational criticism."--_gladstone on tradition in "homer and the homeric age_," vol. ii. sect. i. having laid, as i think, in what has been premised in the last chapter, grounds for a presumption that primitive traditions may be shrouded in the ancient mythology, i proceed to seek traditions of the patriarch noah among the inscriptions and monuments of the chaldæans; for then we shall find ourselves in a period when the results of modern archæological science are in contact with the events and incidents of primitive patriarchal life recorded in scripture; and, in seeking them where we shall best find them, in the able and discriminating pages of rawlinson, we shall at least feel that we are treading on safe and solid ground. the deities in the chaldæan pantheon are thus enumerated by professor rawlinson-- "the grouping of the principal chaldæan deities is as follows:--at the head of the pantheon stands a god il or ra, of whom little is known. next to him is a triad, ana, bil or belus, and hea or hoa, who correspond closely to the classical pluto, jupiter, and neptune. each of these is accompanied by a female principle or wife.... then follows a further triad, consisting of sin or hurki the moon-god, san or sanci the sun, and vul (or yem, or ao, or in, or ina, according to various readings of the hieroglyphics) the god of the atmosphere (again accompanied by female powers or wives).... next in order to them we find a group of five minor deities, the representatives of the five planets, nin or ninip (saturn), merodach (jupiter), nergal (mars), ishtar (venus), and nebo (mercury). [the bracket indications are rawlinson's.]... these principal deities do not appear to have been connected like the egyptian and classical divinities into a single genealogical scheme" (i. ). in a note at p. it is said, "these schemes themselves were probably not genealogical at first ... but after a while given to separate and independent deities, recognised in different places by distinct communities, or even by distinct races" (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. ; english tran.) now to this opinion i venture unreservedly to adhere, and i connect it with the statement (_id._ i. ), that "chaldæa in the earliest times to which we can go back, seems to have been inhabited by four principal tribes. the early kings are continually represented in the monuments as sovereigns over the kiprat-arbat, or 'four races' (_vide supra_, p. ). these 'four races' are sometimes called the arba lisun or 'four tongues,' whence we may conclude that they were distinguished from one another, among other differences, by a variety in their forms of speech ... an examination of the written remains has furnished reasons for believing that the differences were great and marked; the languages, in fact, belonging to the four great varieties of human speech, the hamitic, semitic, aryan, and turanian." compare pp. , . if it is allowed that there may have been mythological systems corresponding to these divers nationalities, we may fairly conclude that the deities above enumerated may not necessarily have been different deities, but the same deities viewed in different lights, or included in duplicate in the way of incorporation, or in recognition of subordinate nationalities. if, therefore, i find the representation of noah in any one of these deities, is there not a _prima facie_ probability that i shall find the reduplication of him in others? i consider, at least, that i shall have warrant for thus collecting the scattered traditions concerning the patriarch who stands at the head of the second propagation of our race. but first as to the god il or ra-- il or ra. the form _ra_ represents, probably, the native chaldæan name of this deity, while _il_ is the semitic equivalent. _il_, of course, is but a variant of _el_, the root of the well-known biblical _elohim_, as well as of the arabic allah. it is this name which diodorus represents under the form of _elus_, and sanchoniathon, or rather philo biblius, under that of elus, or _ilus_. the meaning of the word is simply "god," or perhaps "the god" emphatically. _ra_, the cushite equivalent, must be considered to have had the same force originally, though in egypt it received a special application to the sun, and became the proper name of that particular deity. the word is lost in the modern ethiopic. it formed an element in the native name of babylon, which was _ka-ra_, the cushite equivalent of the semitic _bab-il_, an expression signifying "the gate of god." ra is a god with few peculiar attributes. he is a sort of fount and origin of deity, too remote from man to be much worshipped, or to excite any warm interest. there is no evidence of his having had any temple in chaldæa during the early times. a belief in his existence is implied rather than expressed in inscriptions of the primitive kings, where the moon-god is said to be "brother's son of ana, and eldest son of bil or belus." we gather from this, that bel and ana were considered to have a common father, and later documents sufficiently indicate that that common father was il or ra."--_rawlinson_, i. p. . if in the il or ra of the chaldæans the primitive monotheism is not revealed, i do not see how it can be discerned in the zeus of the greeks. we have the same god in the same relation in the scandinavian, or at any rate in the lapland mythology. leems ("account of danish lapland," pinkerton, i. ) says--"of the gods inhabiting the starry mansions the _greatest is radien_, yet it is uncertain whether he is over every part of the sidereal sky, or whether he governs only some part of it. be this as it may, i shall be bold to affirm that the laplanders never comprehended, under the name of this false god, the true god; _which is obvious from this_, that some have not scrupled to put the image or likeness of the true god by the side of their radien, on runic boxes."[ ] if, however, of their gods "the greatest was radien," they would not have placed the true god by his side until they had become acquainted with the true god, or until they had come to commingle christianity and paganism; but then would they not have placed "ra" by the side of the true god as his counterpart? i am assuming that "radien" means simply the god ra, as i suppose mr max müller would recognise "dien" as cognate to "dyaus" ... "dieu." [ ] in like manner, the peruvians recognised "pachacamac" (_vide infra_, p. ), in the description which the spaniards gave of the true god; and in so far as they had retained the monotheistic belief, this was true. garcilasso de la vega, a most competent witness who testifies to this, adds--"if any one shall now ask me, who am a catholic christian indian, by the infinite mercy, what name was given to god in my language, i should say pachacamac."--hakluyt society, ed. of garcil. de la vega, i. . yet it has been opposed, _in limine_, to m. l'abbe gainet's valuable chapter on the "monotheisme des peuples primitifs," "that he does not meet the specific assertions of historians such as rawlinson, who finds idolatry prevalent among the chaldæans on their first appearance on the stage of history." i must submit, however, that although the discovery of idolatry at this early period may appear to disturb the particular theory, yet on closer examination it will be found to sustain l'abbe gainet's argument, on the whole, by sustaining the truth of tradition upon which his main argument reposes; for the idolatry which we find is intimately bound up with the worship of belus, identified with nimrod, whose rebellion against the lord has always been in tradition, and is according to the more accepted interpretation of the sacred text. the discovery of idolatry, therefore, under the particular circumstances, is exactly what we should expect, and affords a remarkable confirmation of the fidelity of tradition. moreover, there are chaldæans and chaldæans, as we have just seen in rawlinson (_sup._ p. ), and as will be made more evident in the following passage from gainet's "monotheisme," &c. "it is sufficiently agreed, says lebatteux (mem. acad. t. xxvii. p. ), that the babylonians recognised a supreme being, the father and lord of all (diod. sic. l. ii.) st justin cohortat. ad gent. eusebi. prep. evan., l. iii. porphyry (life of pythagoras) cites an oracle of zoroaster, in which the chaldæans are coupled in encomium with the hebrews for the sanctity of the worship which they paid to the eternal king. these are the words of the oracles--the chaldeans alone with the hebrews have wisdom for their share, rendering a pure worship to god, who is the eternal king."--_gainet_, iii. . the pure monotheism here alluded to may have been preserved in chaldæan families of semitic origin, but the extract i have just given from rawlinson seems to prove that the knowledge was preserved also, dimly and obscurely, among the predominant chaldæans of hamitic descent. this will be more apparent from the monotheistic epithets attached to the three next deities. ana. "ana is the head of the first triad which follows immediately after the obscure god ra." "ana, like il and ra, is thought to have been a word originally signifying god in the highest sense." "he corresponds in many respects to the classical hades, who, like him, heads[ ] the triad to which he belongs." in so far he is undistinguishable from il or ra, and may only transmit the monotheistic tradition through a different channel. but ana has human epithets applied to him very suggestive of hero-worship. "his epithets are chiefly such as mark priority and antiquity." "he is the old ana," "the original chief," "the father of the gods" [_inter alia_, of bil nipru, _i.e._ nimrod]. he is also called--which imports another association of ideas--"the lord of spirits and demons," "the king of the lower world,"[ ] "the lord of darkness or death," "the ruler of the far-off city." [ ] "this is not a mere arbitrary supposition, for it is expressly said in holy writ, that the first man, ordained to be 'the father of the whole earth' (as he is then called), became, on his reconciliation with his maker, the wisest of all men, and, according to tradition, the greatest of prophets, who in his far-reaching ken, _foresaw the destinies of all mankind_ in all successive ages down to the end of the world. all this must be taken in a strict historical sense, for the moral interpretation we abandon to others. the pre-eminence of the sethites chosen by god, and entirely devoted to his service, must be received as an undoubted historical fact, to which we find many pointed allusions even in the traditions of the other asiatic nations. nay, the hostility between the sethites and cainites, and the mutual relations of these two races, form the chief clue to the history of the primitive world, and even of many particular nations of antiquity."--_fred. von schlegel's "philosophy of hist.," robertson's trans._, p. . [ ] compare these epithets, and what was said above, of resemblance "to classical hades," with the following verses from the "oracula sybillina," lib. i. -- "orcus eos cepit græco qui nomine dictus est _ades_, quod primus eo descenderit _adam_, expertus mortis legem," &c. setting aside such titles as belong exclusively to the deity, but assuming hero-worship--supposing man deified--who more appropriately placed in these primitive times at the head of the list, than their original progenitor adam.[ ] to whom would these titles, "the old ana,"[ ] "the original chief," "the lord of darkness and death," he who introduced death into the world, more exactly apply? rawlinson also says--"his position is well marked by damascius, who gives the three gods anus, illinus, and aüs, as _next in succession to the primeval pair_, assorus and missara," i. . now, it will not be contested, i think, that assorus is the same as alorus, the first of the ten antediluvian (deluge of xisuthrus) assyrian kings enumerated by berosus, and which correspond to the ten antediluvian patriarchs. consequently assorus = alorus = adam.[ ] [ ] osiris also is "the judge of the soul, or the god of the world of spirits." "osiris is never represented in an animal form, but is called the bull" (_infra_ pp. , ), _vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. . bunsen's own view is, that "the history of osiris is the history of the cycle of the year, of the sun dying away and resuscitating himself again." mr palmer ("egyptian chronicles," i. p. ) says--(and i think it as well that i should state that i had come to an almost identical conclusion, and had written this and the following chapter before i became acquainted with mr palmer's profound and yet still neglected work, _vide_ ch. vi.)--"the first human ('osiris = adam and isis = eve') having been thrown back into pairs of anthropomorphous deities (p. ), the original osiris and isis, formed by the divine potter as parents of all, disappear in name, and are represented by seb and nutpe, while osiris, typhon, and horus, the progeny of seb and nutpe, answers rather to cain, abel, and seth, in the old world, and to the three sons of noah in the new.... from osiris-seb (whether he be viewed as adam or noah) are derived downwards all the successive generations of egyptian, gods and demigods, patriarchs, kings, and other men" [and for a parallel exposition of the phoenician myth, _vide_ palmer, p. and seq., "each dynast in turn, in the early generations, being identifiable at once with seb and osiris, as father of those following, with osiris again by sharing the same mortality, and with horus as renewing his father's life and being the hope of the coming world. _so each ancestor in turn went_, it was said, _to the original osiris as patriarch of the dead_, and to his intermediate osirified fathers, and was himself osirified like them, all making one collective osiris." [i have not space to discuss the question at what stage the mythology became pantheistic.] "waiting for that reunion and restoration which was to come through successive generations by the great expected horus, who was to take up into himself the old, and to be himself the new osiris." [ ] in a note to cardinal wiseman's "science and revealed religion" on conformity between semitic and indo-europ. grammatical forms, it will be seen that _ana_ in chaldaic is the pronoun of the first person singular, and corresponds with the revealed appellation of the deity, "i am who am" (exod. iii. ) = the [greek: tò egô]. [ ] max müller, chips i. , refers to dr windischmann's ("zoroastrian studies") discovery that there are ten generations between adam and noah, as there are ten generations in the zendavesta between yima (adam) and thrâstouna (noah), and without controverting the point. mr palmer ("egypt. chron.," i. ) says--"and though the fancy of making the ten kings to begin only after years, and to be not all named from the same city, seems to distinguish them from adam and the nine patriarchs his descendants, still xisuthrus, the tenth, being clearly identified with noah, by the flood and the ark, the very number ten, and the relation of the succession in which they stand one to the other, show that alorus, the first of them, is no other than adam." here, then, we have a reduplication, or else what i have above referred to, the tendency to place the head of the dynasty at the top of the list superior to gods and men. in any case, granting this juxtaposition, would there not have been the proximate risk and probability of the two running into one another and becoming confounded, on the supposition that ana and alorus were not originally identical? this will become more evident when we have considered the next in the triad-- bil or enu. but the evidence, though it will more clearly establish the fact of hero-worship, will perhaps raise a doubt whether we have rightly regarded adam as the object of hero-worship in ana, a point which we will then consider. rawlinson says of this god--"he is the illinus (il-enu) of damascius." "his name, which seems to mean merely lord" (again the primitive monotheistic appellation) "is usually followed by a qualificative adjunct possessing great interest. it is proposed to read this term as nipru, or in the feminine niprut, a word which cannot fail to recall the scriptural nimrod, who is in the septuagint nebroth. the term _nipru_ seems to be formed from the root _napar_, which is the syriac "to pursue," to "make to flee," and which has in assyrian nearly the same meaning. thus bil nipru would be aptly translated as "the hunter lord" or the "god presiding over the chase," while at the same time it might combine the meaning of the "conquering lord" or "the great conqueror." here, at any rate, it must be admitted that "we have, in this instance, an admixture of hero-worship in the chaldæan religion" (rawlinson, i. ). but if in one instance what _à priori_ reason is there that it should not be so in others? let us, then, examine further. the name of this deity, as bel nipru or nimrod, has, i consider, been completely traced in the pages of rawlinson (to which i must refer my readers). but what are we to say about the alternative name of enu? and why, although no great stress can be laid upon the location of a deity in a genealogy or a system, yet why is nimrod thus placed intermediate between adam and the third of the triad hoa, whom, on grounds quite irrespective of the similarity of name, i identify with noah?[ ] [ ] gainet (i. ) quotes as follows from "ceremonies relig." i. vii.: "the mandans pretend that the deluge was caused by the white men to destroy their ancestors. the whites caused the waters to rise to such a height that the world was submerged. then _the first man, whom they regard as one of their divinities, inspired mankind with the idea of constructing, upon an eminence, a tower and fortress of wood_, and _promised them that the water should not rise beyond this point_." here seems a very analogous confused tradition of adam and nimrod, the deluge and the tower of babel. comp. with the distinct testimony to the mandan tradition, _infra_, ch. xi. if ana is adam, and hoa noah, why should not enu, in another point of view, be enoch? there is, i admit, an absence of direct evidence, but i think i discover a link of connection in a note in rawlinson (i. p. ). "arab writers record a number of remarkable traditions, in which he (nimrod) plays a conspicuous part." "yacut declares that nimrod attempted to mount to heaven on the wings of an eagle, and makes niffers (calneh) the scene of this occurrence (lex. geograph. in voc. niffer). it is supposed that we have here an allusion to the building of the tower of babel." but i cannot help regarding it as much more certainly like an allusion to enoch's disappearance from the earth. at p. , prof. rawlinson notices the confusion of xisuthrus with enoch, which proves that the tradition of enoch was amongst them, and would have been common also to the hamitic arabs.[ ] [ ] i find that the egyptians had the same confused tradition respecting menes, who stood to them in the same relation as nimrod to the assyrians (_vide_ bunsen's egypt, ii. p. ). "the statement in manetho's lists that menes was torn to pieces by a hippopotamus, is probably an exaggeration of an early legend, that he was carried away by a hippopotamus, one of the symbols of the god of the lower world. the great ruler was snatched away from the earth, to distinguish him from other mortals, just as romulus was." i will now return to my doubt as to ana. for although i feel tolerably certain that ana in his human attributes represents one or other of the antediluvian patriarchs, it may well be that he is only a reduplication of enu = enoch. if we are to seek in the translation of enoch the clue to the origin of the deification of man, and its commencement in the person of nimrod (_vide supra_, p. ), it is likely, in the legend of the apotheosis of nimrod, that all the analogies should have been sought for in the striking historical event which was in tradition. there is, moreover, the analogy of name with annacus, hannachus = enoch.[ ] if he is enoch, he naturally also falls into his place as second to assorus. [ ] "etienne de byzance dit qu'à 'icone' ('de urbibus' voce 'iconium') ville de lycaonie près du mont taurus dans les régions occupées par les habitants antediluviens regnait annacus dont la vie alla au-déla de trois cents ans. tous les habitants d'alentour demandèrent à un oracle jusqu'à quelle époque se prolongerait sa vie. l'oracle répondit que ce patriarche étant mort, tout le monde devait s'attendre à périr. les phrygiens à cette ménace jetèrent les hauts cris, d'où est venu le proverbe: 'pleurer sous annacus, ce que l'on dit de ceux qui se livrent à des grands gémissements. or le déluge étant survénu tous périrent.... dans ces récits tout est conformé à la bible. annacus a vécu trois cents ans avant le déluge. il a averti ses concitoyens: il est entouré du même respect que le patriarche noë lui-même. annacus parait venir d'enoch; tout announce une identité de personnages." (gainet, hist. de l'anc. et nouv. test. i. , .) the connection between the death of enoch and the destruction of mankind may accord as well with the traditional belief in his reappearance at the end of the world. compare the grecian tradition of inachus, son of oceanus (_vide_ bryant, ii. ), and with it, hor., od. , lib. ii.: "divesne, prisco et natus ab inacho, nil interest, an pauper, et infimâ de gente," &c. i retain, however, my original opinion, that ana is adam (though possibly with some confusion with enoch), in addition to the arguments already urged, upon the following grounds:-- rawlinson mentions (i. ) "telane," or the "_mound_ of ana," distinct from kalneh or "kalana." we know that there has been a constant tradition that the bones of adam were preserved in the ark, and this name of the "mound of ana" may be connected with it. if so, it will also account for ana (dis = orcus) being the patron deity of erech, "the great city of the dead, the necropolis of lower babylonia" (rawlinson i. ). the son of ana is vul. if vul could be identified with vulcan, and vulcan with tubalcain, it would go far to decide the point that ana was adam. but in the matter of etymology, i do not know that we can advance beyond the quaint phrase of old sir walter raleigh in his "history of the world," that "there is a certain likelihood of name between tubalcain and vulcan." i rely more upon the wide-spread tradition of tubalcain in the legends of dædalus, vulcan, weland, galant, wielant, wayland smith, which approaches very nearly an identification. _vide_ wilson's "archæologia of scotland," p. . compare the phoenician tradition, bunsen's "egypt," iv. , . it is to be noted, however, that although ana (_vide_ rawlinson) "like adam had several sons, he had only two of any celebrity" (we can suppose that abel had died out of the cainite tradition), "vul and another whose name represents 'darkness' or '_the west_,'" which might well be the view of seth from a cainite point of view (and it is traditional that the cainite lore was preserved by cham in the ark). now it is remarkable that the scripture (gen. iv.) expressly says that cain dwelt on the _east_ side of eden. i now come to hea or hoa. "the third god of the first triad was hea or hoa, the ana of damascius. this appellation is perhaps best rendered into greek by the [greek: Ôê] of helladius, the name given to the mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris. it is perhaps contained in the word by which berosus designates this same creature--oannes ([greek: Ôánnês]), which may be explained as hoa-ana, or the god hoa. there are no means of strictly determining the precise meaning of the word in babylonian, but it is perhaps allowable to connect it provisionally with the arabic hiya, which is at once life and 'a serpent,' since, according to the best authority, 'there are very strong grounds for connecting hea or hoa with the serpent of scripture, and the paradisaical traditions of the tree of knowledge and the tree of life.' "hoa occupies in the first triad the position which in the classical mythology is filled by poseidon or neptune, and in some respects he corresponds to him. he is 'the lord of the earth,' just as neptune is [greek: gaiêochos]; he is the 'king of rivers,' and he comes from the sea to teach the babylonians, but he is never called the 'lord of the sea.' that title belongs to nin or ninip. hoa is the lord of the abyss or of 'the great deep,' which does not seem to be the sea, but something distinct from it. his most important titles are those which invest him with the character so prominently brought out in oë and oannes, of the god of science and knowledge. he is 'the intelligent guide,' or, according to another interpretation, 'the intelligent fish,' 'the teacher of mankind,' 'the lord of understanding.' one of his emblems is the 'wedge' or 'arrow-head,' the essential element of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron, of the chaldæan alphabet. another is the serpent, which occupies so conspicuous a place among the symbols of the gods on the black stones recording benefactions, and which sometimes appears upon the cylinders. this symbol here, as elsewhere, is emblematic of superhuman knowledge--a record of the primeval belief that 'the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field.' the stellar name of hoa was kimmut.... the monuments do not contain much evidence of the early worship of hoa. his name appears on a very ancient stone tablet brought from mugheir (ur), but otherwise his claim to be accounted one of the primeval gods must rest on the testimony of berosus and helladius, who represent him as known to the first settlers.... as kimmut, hoa was also the father of nebo, whose functions bear a general resemblance to his own."--_rawlinson's ancient monarchies_, i. .[ ] [ ] _vide_ his other epithets, _infra_, p. ; also rawlinson (herod. i. p. ), says that "upon one of the tablets in the british museum there is a list of thirty-six synonyms indicating this god (hoa). the greater part of them relate either to "the abyss" or to "knowledge." compare this with the following verses from the "oracula sybillina," i. ver. -- "collige, noë, tuas vires ... ... si scieris me divinæ te nulla rei secreta latebunt." now, without entering into the question of the authenticity of the sybilline verses, i may at least quote them in evidence of the current tradition concerning noah in the second century of the christian era, supposing them to have been forged at that period. i have said that i shall not rely too much on the resemblance of name, hoa; but i must draw attention to the curious resemblance which lurks in the name "aüs" to the words upon which the vicomte d'anselme has founded an argument in the appended note.[ ] [ ] "comment le nom du premier navigateur connu, tel qu'il se prononça en hébreu et qu'il nous est transmis par la génese, 'noh, naus, noach,' serait-il devenu le nom d'une arche flottante, d'un navire, en sanscrit et en vingt autres langues? _nau_, sanscrit; _naw_, armenien; _naus_, grec; (_navis_, latin); _noi_, hibernien; _neau_, bas breton; _nef_, nav. franc; _noobh_, irlandais; _naone_, vanikoro; _nacho_, allemand vieux; _naw_, timor; _nachen_, allemand; _s'nechia_, islandais; _s'naeca_ ou _naca_, anglo-sax.; _s'nace_, ancien anglais; _sin-nau_, cambodge, &c. "enfin nous demandons comment le nom hébreu de l'arche de noë. tobe, prononcé comme on écrivait généralement en orient, en sens inverse, donne le nom d'un vaisseau dans vingt langues qui sont des dialectes du sanscrit? l'écriture boustrophedone, qui fait les lignes alternativement à droite et gauche sans interruption a pu donner naissance à cette manière de lire:--_boat_, anglais; _boite_, français; _bat_, anglo-saxon; _boot_, hollandais; _bat_, suedois, _baat_, danois; _batr_, islandais; _bad_, breton; _bote_, espagnol; _boar_, persan; _batillo_, italien; _pota_, sanscrit." _vide_ other similar proofs from vicomte d'anselme's "monde païen," &c. in gainet, i. , a curious additional instance of the same word having connections with "boat" and arc (_tobe_) might be discovered in kibotos, the name of a mountain in phrygia, where the ark is said to have rested (gainet, i. ). also we have almost the same words--ark and arc--to express (though according to a different etymology) these dissimilar objects. "the words oar and rudder can be traced back to sanskrit, and the name of the ship is identically the same in sanscrit (naus, nâvas), in latin (navis), in greek (naus), and in teutonic, old high germ. (nachs), anglo-saxon (naca)."--max müller, "comp. mythol.," p. . i may draw attention, as having reference to other branches of this inquiry, to a possible affinity with the name of the patriarch, in the term _noaaids_, applied by the laplanders to their magicians (pinkerton, i. , &c.); and to the term koader_nicks_, applied by the samoids to the same (_id._ ). i own there might be danger in pushing the inquiry further, as i might even bring the patriarch noah into contact and connection with old nick! i may also refer to the term "janna" (janus), as applied to the officer "who had the office of entertaining ambassadors" at the court of kenghis khan (_id._ v. , p. ; rubruquis's embassy, a.d. , also ). in the above extract from rawlinson, although hoa is said not to be "the true fish-god," yet he is called "the intelligent fish," and is associated with that mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on euphrates and tigris. let us compare this information with the following "history of the fish," which the abbé gainet, i. , has translated from the mahâbhârata. the same history has been translated from the bhagavad pourana by sir w. jones ("asiatic researches"). indeed, as the abbé gainet argues, as this same history is found in all the religious poems of india, there is a certain security that it would not have been taken from the hebrews. i shall merely attempt to give the drift of the legend from the abbé gainet's original translation of that portion of the matysia pourana which has reference to noah:-- "the son of vaivaswata (the sun) was a king, and a great sage, a prince of men, resembling pradjapati in _eclat_. in his strength, splendour, prosperity, and above all, his penitence, manou surpassed his father and his grandfather.[ ]... one day a small fish approached him, and begged him to remove him from the water where he was, 'because the great fish always eat the little fish--it is our eternal condition.' manou complies, and the fish promises eternal gratitude. after several such migrations, through the intervention of manou, the fish at each removal increasing in bulk, he is at length launched in the ocean. the fish then holds this discourse with manou:--'soon, oh blessed manou, everything that is by nature fixed and stationary in the terrestrial world, will undergo a general immersion and a complete dissolution. this temporary immersion of the world is near at hand, and therefore it is that i announce to you to-day what you ought to do for your safety.' he instructs him to build a strong and solid ship, and to enter it with the _seven_ richis or sages.[ ] he instructs him also to take with him all sorts of seeds, according to certain brahminical indications. 'and when you are in the vessel you will perceive me coming towards you, oh well-beloved of the saints, i will approach you with a _horn_ on my head, by which you will recognise me.' manou did all that was prescribed to him by the fish, and the earth was submerged accordingly, as he had predicted. 'neither the earth, nor the sky, nor the intermediate space, was visible; all was water.' 'in the middle of the world thus submerged, o prince of bharatidians, were seen the seven richis or sages, manou, and the fish. thus, o king, did this fish cause the vessel to sail' (with a rope tied to its horn), 'for many years, without wearying, in this immensity of water.' at length the ship was dragged by the fish on to the highest point of the himalaya. 'that is why the highest summit of the himaran (himalaya) was called _nan_bundhanam, or the place to which the ship was attached, a name which it bears to this day--_sache cela, o prince des bharatidians._' then _le gracieux_, with placid gaze, thus addressed the richis--'i am brahma, the ancestor (_l'ancestre_) of all creatures. no one is greater than i. under the form of a fish i came to save you from the terrors of death. from manou, now, shall all creatures, with the gods, the demons (_au souras_), and mankind, be born.... this is the ancient and celebrated history which bears the name of the 'history of the _fish_.'"[ ] [ ] comp. "traditions of the new zealanders." [ ] do not the seven richis or sages correspond to the seven (or eight) (phoenician) kabiri. (there were seven or eight persons in the ark, accordingly as we take separate account or not of noah.) as regards the kabiri, their number (seven or eight, accordingly as we include "Æsculapius") must be the clue to the solution of "the most obscure and mysterious question in mythology." bunsen ("egypt," iv. ) says of an astral explanation:--"it does not enable us to explain the details of those representations which do not contain the number seven (or eight), and, in fact, seven brothers." it will suffice, from our point of view, if there are numerically seven persons. bunsen (iv. p. ) says--"it is quite clear that the fundamental number of the gods in the oldest mythologies of phoenicia, and all asia, as well as egypt, was seven. there were seven kabiri, with the seven titans. there are also seven titans mentioned in other genealogies of the race of kronos. of the latter, one dies a virgin and disappears." but as with the kabiri we have seen the number seven, or eight, accordingly as Æsculapius is included or not, so (vide p. ) we see the primitive gods of egypt either seven or eight, accordingly as thoth, "the eighth," or horus, figure as the "last divine king" (p. ). when horus so figures, "_he_ is frequently represented as _the eighth, conducting the bark of the gods_, with _the seven great gods_," &c. moreover, it is elsewhere (p. ) said that "the phoenicians, in their sacred books, stated that the kabiri _embarked in ships_, and landed near mount kaison. this legend was corroborated by the existence of a shrine on that coast in historic times." [_query_, the tradition of the deluge localised, and the shrine commemorative of that catastrophe (_vide_ boulanger, &c., _infra_, p. ); and supposing that the tradition of the number saved in the flood had been preserved down to a certain date, we should then expect that the number would become rigid and fixed. but that if the tradition of the actual survivors had become indistinct, what more natural than that the eight principal characters of ante-diluvian, or even post-diluvian, history should be substituted for them, and that the same confusion and agglomeration of legend should take place as we shall see occurring in the tradition of noah?] in the persian or iranian legend of shâh-nâmeh, "the three sons of ferêdûn--ireg, tur, and selm--are mentioned as their patriarchs, and among them the _whole earth was divided_." but in the more ancient gâthâs there is mention of "the _seven_-surfaced or _seven_-portioned earth." [_query_--apportioned by _the eighth_?] _vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iii. . for the indian tradition compare the following from hunter's "bengal" (i. p. )--"another coincidence--i do not venture to call it an analogy--is to be found in the number of children born to the first pair. as the santal legend immediately divides the human species into _seven_ families, so the sanscrit tradition assigns the propagation of _our race after the flood_ to _seven rishis_." i also find in f. schlegel's "philosophy of history" (p. , robertson's trans.)--"the indian traditions acknowledge and revere the succession of the first ancestors of mankind, or the holy patriarchs of the primitive world, under the name of the _seven great rishis_, or sages of hoary antiquity, though they invest their history with a cloud of fictions." [ ] syncellus, quoting berosus (_vide_ abbé de tressan, "mythology," p. ), says that _oannes_ (the mysterious fish, _vide ante_) left some _writings_ upon the origin of the world. these, no doubt, correspond to the "liber noachi." i do not disguise that this statement is probably derived from what is called the false berosus. the reference, however, which i have made to these writings at p. may raise doubt whether they did not embody true traditions. here we seem to see what looks like the commencement of the legendary origin of the fish symbol; and here also we see it unmistakeably in connection with noah. we have, moreover, seen the connection of hoa with the fish.[ ] [ ] i fancy it might be traced also in the phoenician fish-god, dagon. the _saturday review_ (june , ) in its review of cox's "mythology," says--"dagon cannot be divided dag-on, the fish 'on,' for a semitic syllable cannot begin with a vowel; and if the necessary breathing 'aleph' were inserted (which it is very unsafe to do), it would then mean 'the fish of on,' which is not the signification required." but it is the signification which would fit in here; moreover, might not the terminal "aon," or "_haon_," suggested, have been originally, _i.e._ before displacement by "boustrophedon"--noa or noa_h_? i give this suggestion with all proper diffidence, and with some genuine misgiving as to the "breathing aleph." i find that bryant ("mythology," iii. p. ) makes a similar suggestion. bunsen ("egypt," iv. ) says--"dagon is dagan, _i.e._ corn. this is also implied by the greek form of it--sitôn, wheat-field (comp. p. ). we have in the bible, dagon, a god of the philistines, a name usually supposed to be derived from 'dag,' fish; the god has a human form ending in a fish, like the fish-shaped goddess, derketo-atergatis. it is clear, from philo's own account, that the phoenician poseidon was a god of this kind, and it is difficult to find any other name for him. yet we cannot say that dagon is very clearly explained. here is a god of agriculture, well authenticated, both linguistically and documentally, dagan, _i.e._ wheat, and he is the _zeus of agriculture_." _vide_ p. . p. says dagon must not be confounded with "dagan," but without reconciling it with the above at p. , on the contrary, we find "dagon, dagan = corn (the fish-man)." at p. , quoting from the _text_ of philo, it is said still more pointedly--"dagon, after he _had discovered corn and the plough_, was called zeus arotnios." comp. p. . believing (_vide_ ch. xii.) in the tradition of mythology, even among savages, i could not but be much struck on coming upon the following passage in roggeveen's voyage, to find--in his account of the eastern islanders--the same conjunction of the bull and fish implied in the traditional names of their idols:--"the name of the largest idol was called _taurico_, and the other _dago_; at least, these were the words they called to them by, and wherewith they worshipped them. these savages had great respect for the two idols, _taurico_ and _dago_, and approached them with great reverence ... and to supplicate for help against us, and to call upon with a frightful shout and howling of _dago! dago!_" ("historical account of voyages round the world," , i. , .) after showing the resemblance of a feast at argos to other commemorative feasts of the deluge, boulanger (_vide infra_, i. ) says--"les argiens avoient encore une autre fête pendant laquelle ils précipitoent dans un abîme un agneau.... ils étoient armés de javelines, ils appelloient _bacchus_ au son des trompettes et l'invitoient _à semontrer hors de l'eau_; cette apparition n'arrivoit pas fréquemment sans doute" (comp. _supra_, , and ). "plutarque remarque que lors qu'ils précipitoient l'agneau, ils avoient soin de cacher leurs trompettes et leurs javelines. nous ne prétendons point expliquer tous ces mystères." is it that they feared, with armed weapons in their hands, to evoke the apparition of the old man "whose conquests were all peaceful" (p. ), and who, as manco capac (p. ), "shut his ears when they spoke to him of war." let us now turn to his reduplication, as i conceive, in nin, or ninip, who is said to be "the true fish god." "his names, bar and nin, are respectively a semitic and a hamitic term, signifying 'lord,' or 'master,'" (p. ). astronomically nin "should be saturn." however, a set of epithets which _seem to point_ to his stellar character are very difficult to reconcile with the notion that, as a celestial luminary, he was (the dark and distant) saturn. we find him called, "the light of heaven and earth," "he who, _like_ the sun, the _light_ of the _gods_, irradiates the _nations_." all this is very difficult to reconcile with legends arising out of the simple worship of a celestial luminary, but perfectly consistent with the supposition of the patriarch noah, after deification, being located in the planetary system. the phrase, "he who, like the sun, the light of the gods, irradiates the nations," is perfectly applicable to him who, as oannes, we have ever regarded as "the god of science and of knowledge;" and who "taught astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris." let us glance at the other epithets applied to nin in the inscriptions. he is the "lord of the brave," "the champion," "the warrior who subdues foes," "_he who strengthens the hearts of his followers_." [the scripture mentions the repeated assurances of the almighty to noah, that there should not be another deluge; and the above is in keeping with the tradition that the early inhabitants long hesitated to quit the mountains for the plains, and only did so incited by the example of the patriarch.] "the destroyer of enemies," "_the reducer of the disobedient_," "the exterminator of rebels," "he whose sword is good." like nergal, or mars, he is a god of battle and the chase. (i shall refer later on to these warlike epithets as applied to noah.) at the same time he has qualities which seem wholly unconnected with any that have been hitherto mentioned. he is the true "fish-god" of berosus, and is figured as such in the scriptures. (i hope i may persuade some reader, who may be interested in this inquiry, to compare the figure of nin, in rawlinson, i. , with figure , dupaix's "new spain" in lord kingsborough's "mexico," representing an emblematic figure with fish[ ] (as in the representation of nin) over a human head, which also has inverted tusks. compare also with representations of neph, associated with snake and ram's head, and also with "history of the fish," _supra_, p. .) to continue--in this point of view he (nin) is called the "god of the sea," "he who dwells in the deep;" and again, somewhat curiously, "the opener of the aqueducts." now, as applied to noah, this is not at all strange, and corresponds to the scriptural phrase, "he opened the fountains of the deeps." subsequently to deification we cannot be surprised to find all that was done by the almighty attributed to the individual to whom it was done; as in prometheus we have a double legend of the creator, who created man with the vital spark, and of prometheus, the man who was so created. "besides these epithets he has many of a more general character, as 'the _powerful chief_,' 'the supreme,' 'the _favourite_ of the _gods_,' 'the chief of the spirits,' and the like." [ ] this closely corresponds to the description of oannes given by sanchoniathon, "ap. euseb." (bryant, ii. ), _i.e._ with two heads (comp. _infra_, p. ), the human head being placed below the head of a fish:--"[greek: allên kephalên hypokatô tês tou ichthyos kephalês]." i must, moreover, request attention to the following from rawlinson, i. ,--"nin's _emblem_ in _assyria_ is the _man-bull_, the impersonation of strength and power. he guards the palaces of the assyrian kings, who reckon him their tutelary god, and gives his name to their capital city. we may conjecture that _in babylonia_ his _emblem_ was the _sacred fish_, which is often seen in different forms upon the cylinders."[ ] [ ] _vide_ similar traditions of the man-bull in india and japan. bryant, iii. , who adds, "we shall find hereafter that in this (parsee) mythology there were two ancient personages represented under the same character, and named l'homme taureau; _each_ of whom was looked upon as the _father_ of mankind." compare pp. , , the two menus and the two osiris. i turn to gainet, i. , and i find this legend concerning the man-bull from bertrand's "dict. des religions," , i. ii.[ ] [ ] the prayer used in the worship of dionysos at elis, preserved by plutarch, ended with "[greek: axie taure--axie taure]," worthy bull! (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. .) compare p. with dionysius = bacchus = noah; also of the three samothracian names of the kabiri--viz., axieros, axiokerse, axiokersos. bunsen says, "the syllable axi or axie which is found in all three, cannot be anything but the greek word 'axios,' which was used in the worship of dionysos at elis" (_id., vide infra_). on this symbol of the bull in connection with noah and the ark _vide_ bryant (ii. , _et seq._ ). he says, "every personage that had any connection with the history of the ark was described with some reference to this hieroglyphic ... that the apis and mnenis (menes) were both representations of an _ancient personage_ is certain; and who that personage was may be known from the account given of him by diodorus. he speaks of him by the name of mnenes, but confines his history to egypt, as the history of saturn was limited to italy; inachus and phoroneus to argos; deucalion to thessaly ... the same person who in crete was styled minos, min-nous, and whose city was min-noa; the same who was represented under the emblem of men-taur, or mino-taurus (_minotaur_). diodorus speaks of mnenes as the _first lawgiver_," &c., &c.... [mnenes or menes may embody traditions of noah and misraim, as osiris does of adam and noah.] at p. - [plate], we find menes represented as a bull _with the sacred dove_.... plutarch (isis and osiris) says the bulls, apis and mnenes, were sacred to osiris ... and eustath. (in dion. v. ) says of the tauric chersonese, "that the _tauric_ nation was so named from the animal taurus or bull, which was looked upon as a memorial of _the great husbandman_ osiris, who first _taught agriculture_, and to whom was ascribed _the invention_ of the _plough_." ... lycophron (v. and scholia) says, [greek: tauros], [greek: dionysos]. plutarch says dionusus (_vide supra_, p. ) was styled [greek: bougenês], or the offspring of a bull, by the people of argos, who used to invoke him as a _resident of the sea_, and entreat him _to come out of the waters_. the author of the orphic hymns calls him "taurogenes." [greek: taurogenês dionysos euphrosunên pore thnêtois]. [greek: taurogenês], is precisely of the same purport as [greek: thêbaigenês] [ark-born], and the words of this passage certainly mean "that the ark-born deity dionusus restored peace and happiness to mortals." [noah's name in scripture signifies "peace and consolation"--[greek: nôe hebraïsianapaysis] (rest), hesychius.]... the title given to diana--viz. _taurione_, is remarkable, for "taurus was an emblem of the ark, and by taurione was signified the arkite _dove_." _taurus_, and _ione_ from [greek: oinas] of the greeks, and ionas of the eastern nations = _dove_, and curiously in an inscription in gruter, diana is at _the same time_ called "regina _undarum_," and "decus _nemorum_" (bryant, ii. ). the connection of diana, juno, and venus with _the dove_ and _rainbow_ is very striking, but would lead to too long a digression. so, too, would a discussion as to how noah or the ark (secondarily) came to be associated with the bull, as a hieroglyphic. compare the above with the ox-heads and bull dance in the mandan commemoration of the deluge, _infra_, ch. xi. "d'après les livres parsis, le souverain créateur sut que le mauvais génie se disposait à tenter l'homme. il ne jugea pas à propos de l'empêcher par lui-même; il se contenta d'envoyer des anges pour veiller sur l'homme. cependant le mal augmenta; l'homme se perdit; dieu envoya un deluge, qui dura dix jours et dix nuits et détruisit le genre humain. l'apparition de kaioumons (_l'homme-taureau_), le premier homme, y est aussi précédée de la creation d'une grande eau." here, in a confused tradition, with adam--just as nin is confused with hercules and saturn--the man-bull is apparently associated with a great flood. in the curious etruscan monument commemorative of the deluge--discovered in --and to which cardinal wiseman draws attention in his "conferences" (_vide_ gainet, i. ), being a vase supposed to represent the ark, and containing figures of twenty couples of ( ) animals, ( ) birds, ( ) serpents, &c., and several human figures represented in the act of escaping from an inundation, there were also discovered certain signets and amulets. these consisted of hands joined, _heads_ of _oxen_, and olives. now the olive in connection with the deluge will speak for itself,--the hands joined are the symbol of janus (_vide_ next chapter), and heads of oxen--here unmistakably connected with the deluge--may also be conjectured to have allusion to the man-bull above referred to. thus nin, through both his emblems (bull and fish), is brought into contact with the noachic tradition.[ ] it is also said (rawlinson, i. ) of nergal, _vide supra_, who is clearly identified with nimrod,--"again, if nergal is the man-lion, his association in the buildings with the man-bull would be exactly parallel with the conjunction which we so constantly find between him and _nin_ in the inscriptions." [ ] since writing the above i have found the following note in rawlinson's "herodotus," i. , on ninip:--"there is, however, another explanation of the name bar-sam or bur-shem, of which some notice must be taken. it has been already stated that if the _noachid_ triad be compared with the assyrian, ana will correspond with ham, bel-nimrod with shem, and hoa with japhet." the following passage, also from rawlinson's "herodotus," i. , appears to me valuable in proof of the transition from ancestral to solar worship, or at least of their interfusion:--"the sun was probably named in babylonia both san and sanei, before his title took the definite _semitic_ form of _shamas_, by which he is known in assyrian and _in all_ the languages of _that family_." now, standing by itself, this might not appear very significant; but compare it with the following passages connecting _ham_ with the sun:--"by the syrians the sun and heat were called ... chamba; by the persians, hama; and the temple of the sun, the temple of _am_mon or _ham_mon." mr bryant shows that ham was esteemed the zeus of greece and the jupiter of latium. mr g. higgins' "anacalypsis," p. . bryant says, "the worship of ham, _or the sun_, as it was the most ancient, so it was the most universal of any in the world." these passages may possibly be so interpreted as to support a solar theory, but is it not at least suspicious to see the name of the central luminary so apparently identified with historical characters whose memory is distinctly preserved _aliunde_ in the traditions of their descendants? compare nimrod, ch. viii. , _et seq._ it is true that the majority of the inscriptions, p. , assert that nin was the son of bel-nimrod. this may be referred to that tendency, previously noted in ancient nations, to place the ancestor with whom they were themselves identified at the head of every genealogy. one inscription, however, "makes bel-nimrod the son of nin instead of his father." nin, in any case, is unquestionably brought into close historical relationship with bel-nimrod, an historical character, and we must, in fine, choose whether we shall admit him to be noah--to whom all the epithets would apply--or whether, upon the more literal construction of the inscriptions, we shall believe him to be some nameless son or successor of nimrod. there is one god more in whom i fancy i see a counterpart of noah, or at least a counterpart of hoa and nin--viz. nebo. i base my conclusion upon the epithets applied to him in common with hoa and nin, and inconsistently applied if, according to the evidence, p. , "mythologically he was a deity of no very great eminence," but in no way conflicting with the supposition that he represented the tradition of noah, the counterpart to the tradition of hoa and nin, among some subordinate nationality, and such appears to be the fact. "when nebo first appears in assyria, it is as a foreign god, whose worship is brought thither from babylonia," p. . of nebo it is said, "his name is the same or nearly so, both in babylonian and assyrian, and we may perhaps assign it a _semitic_ derivation, from the root _'nibbah,' to prophesy_. it is his special function to preside over _knowledge_ and _learning_. he is called 'the god who possesses intelligence'--'he who hears from afar'--'he who _teaches_,' or 'he who teaches and instructs.' in this point of view he of course approximates to hoa, _whose son_ he is called in some inscriptions, and to whom he bears a general resemblance. like hoa, he is symbolised by the simple wedge or arrow-head, the primary and essential element of cuneiform writing, to mark his _joint_ presidency with that god over writing and literature. at the same time nebo has, like so many of the chaldæan gods, a number of general titles, implying divine powers, which, if they had belonged to him only, would have seemed to prove him the supreme deity. he is 'the lord of lords, who has no equal in power,' _'the supreme chief_,' '_the sustainer_,' 'the supporter,' the 'ever ready,' 'the guardian over the heavens and the earth,' 'the lord of the constellations,' 'the holder of the sceptre of power,' 'he who grants to kings the sceptre of royalty for the _governance_ of their people'" (rawlinson, i. ). there is just a possibility, however, that nebo may be sem or shem. he would be the son of hoa as nebo was stated to be. i think, moreover, a striking resemblance will be seen between the above epithets and the traditions concerning _shem_, collected by calmet (dict. "sem.") "the jews attribute to sem the theological _tradition_ of the _things which noah taught to the first men_.... they say that he is the same as melchisedek.... in fine, the hebrews believe that he taught _men the law of justice_, the manner of counting the months and years, and the intercalations of the months. they pretend that _god gave him the spirit of prophecy_ one hundred years after the deluge, and that he continued _to prophesy_ during four hundred years, with little fruit among mankind, who had become very corrupt. methodius says that he remained in the isle of the sun, that he invented astronomy, and that he was _the first king who ruled over the earth_."[ ] [ ] rawlinson says that there is no doubt that nebo represents the planet mercury, and between the attributes of mercury or hermes, the epithets of nebo, and the traditions concerning shem, there is something in common. he is the god of eloquence and persuasion--the god of alliances and peace. "he contributed to civilise the manners and cultivate the minds of the people." "he united them by commerce and good laws." the egyptian mercury or thaut first invented landmarks. finally, "he was consulted by the titans, his relations, _as an augur_, which gave occasion to the poets to describe him as interpreter of the will of the gods."--_l'abbe de tressan, "mythology."_ the difficulty, however, is in understanding how the worship of shem came to assyria _from_ babylonia. i can only reconcile it upon a theory that _all_ idolatry came from babylonia, _i.e._ from the hamitic race. there remains a difficulty which will doubtless occur to every one who has read the chapter in rawlinson to which i must acknowledge myself so much indebted, and it is a difficulty which i ought, perhaps, to have dealt with before; and that is, that there is in the pages of rawlinson (i. vii. ) the most distinct identification of noah with xisuthrus. of this there can be no doubt, from his direct connection with the deluge, the circumstances of which are perfectly recorded in the babylonian tradition.[ ] this establishes the fact that the tradition of noah and the deluge was still among them when berosus wrote. but if xisuthrus is noah, then it may be said hoa, oannes, and nin cannot be noah. it is a _non sequitur_, but will still, i fear, be very influential with many. it is difficult to understand the tendency to reduplication, and still more difficult to realise how a tradition so clear and decided could be contemporaneous with other identical traditions so entangled and confused. i believe this explanation to be that the account of xisuthrus was part of the esoteric tradition to which rawlinson refers, and which was also the tradition of their learned men--"vixere fortes ante agamemnon";--and we cannot suppose that berosus (of whom we should have known nothing if his works had not been preserved to us at third or fourth hand) was the first chronicler of his nation.[ ] [ ] "notwithstanding the difficulty of ascending to so distant a period, there will always be found some traces by which truth may be discovered.... the historian josephus relates that the chaldæans from the _earliest_ times _carefully preserved_ the remembrance of past events by public inscriptions on their monuments. he says they caused these annals to be written by the wisest men of their nation."--_l'abbe de tressan, "hist. of heathen mythology."_ london, . [ ] i had come to the above conclusion upon the perusal of rawlinson, and before i had read bryant, who, i find, had already come to this identical conclusion. ("mythology," iii. .) speaking of berosus' account of oannes and xisuthrus, he says, "the latter was undoubtedly taken from the archives of the chaldæans. the former is allegorical and obscure, and was copied from _hieroglyphical representations_ which could not be precisely deciphered.... in consequence of his borrowing from records so very different, we find him, without his being apprized of it, giving _two histories of the same person_. under the character of _the man of the sea_, whose _name was oannes_, we have _an allegorical representation of the great patriarch_; whom _in his other history he calls sisuthrus_." i shall pursue this inquiry into the classical mythology in the next chapter, and then recapitulate the results as regards this inquiry. chapter x. _the tradition of noah and the deluge._ i now come to a different set of illustrations still more germane to my subject. calmet says:--"plusieurs scavans out remarqué que les pagans ont confondu saturne, deucalion, ogyges, le dieu coelus ou ouranus, janus, prothée, prométhée, virtumnus, bacchus, osiris, vadimon, nisuthrus avec noë." i must add that this enumeration by no means exhausts the list. it is not my purpose, however, to pursue the subject in all its ramifications. i shall limit myself to the examination of one or two of these counterparts of noah. * * * * * i. and in the first place, "him of mazy counsel, saturn," the expression of hesiod ([greek: t' iapeton te ide kronon agkylomêtên]), hesiod. theog. v. , which so well befits the intermediary between god and the survivors of the deluge. "under saturn," as plutarch tells us, "was the golden age." calmet says (dict. "saturne"), "quant aux traits de ressemblance qui se trouvent entre noë et saturne, ils ne peuvent être plus sensibles.[ ] il (saturne) est représenté avec une faulx comme inventeur de l'agriculture[ ]: noë est nommé 'vir agricola' (gen. ix. ) et il est dit qu'il commença à cultiver la terre. les _saturnales_, qu'on célébrait dans le vin et dans la licence et _où les serviteurs s'égaloient à leurs maitres_--marquent l'ivresse de noë et sa malédiction qui assujettit chanaan à ses frères tout égal qu'il leur étoit par sa naissance." [i have _little doubt that this bacchanalian recollection originated the tradition of the equality of conditions_ in the _golden_ age, contrary to the facts of scripture and history.] "on disoit que noë avait dévoré tous ses enfans à l'exception de jupiter, de neptune, et de pluton. noë vit périr dans les eaux du déluge tous les hommes de son temps dont plusieurs étoient ses parents et plus jeunes que lui. dans la stile de l'écriture on dit souvent que l'on fait ce qu'on n'empêche pas, ou même ce que l'on prédit." further resemblances are traced in calmet. [ ] bochart also says (geog. sacra, lib. i.) "noam esse saturnum tam multa docent, ut vix sit dubitandi locus." [ ] "cum falce, messis insigne."--_macrobius, "saturn."_ now, i find in sanchoniathon,[ ] _i.e._ in the most ancient phoenician historian, a tradition running exactly parallel with this greek tradition as interpreted by calmet:--"ces genies, ces sages, ces dieux, nous expliquent les autres dieux qui, d'après berose, forment l'homme du sang de bélus, et tous les dieux que sanchoniaton nous représente saisis d'épouvante _à la vue de saturne, faisant périr par le déluge son fils sadid_."--(le peuple primitif; rougemont, i. , quoted by gainet, iii. , with reference to the worship of spirits.) i adduce it in evidence of the connection in tradition between saturn and the deluge, and in corroboration of calmet's interpretation, which clears the greek myth of what is grotesque and repulsive in it. [ ] sanchoniathon, _vide supra_ m'lennan (ch. vii.) if i have sufficiently identified saturn with noah and the period of the deluge, the lines of virgil (Æneid, th book, ), besides bearing testimony in the same direction, appear to me to acquire a new meaning and significance:-- "primus ab ætherio venit _saturnus_ olympo, arma jovis fugiens, _et regnis exul ademptis_, is genus indocile, ac dispersum montibus altis composuit; _legesque dedit_; latiumque vocari maluit."... "_aurea_, quæ perhibent, _illo sub rege_ fuerunt _sæcula_; sed placidâ populos in pace regebat, deterior donec paulatim ac discolor ætas et belli rabies et amor successit habendi."[ ] [ ] bryant (mythology, ii. ) says:--"he is by lucian made to say of himself [greek: oudeis hyp' emou doulos ên]. the latins in great measure confine his history to their own country, where, like janus, he is represented as refining and modelling mankind, and giving them laws. at other times he is introduced as prior to law; which are seeming contrarieties very easy to be reconciled." there were traditions also of saturn in crete and sparta.--_bryant_, iii. . allowing for the confusion incidental to the deification of noah in the person of saturn, which necessitates his descent from heaven, the rest of the verses seem merely to describe what is recorded in tradition, if not implied in the scriptural narrative, that noah, a voyager and exile, his possessions having been lost in the flood, flying the wrath--not indeed as directed against himself, but the consequences of the wrath of the almighty[ ]--persuaded the survivors of the flood to abandon the mountains, to which they clung in fear of a second deluge, and brought them into the plains, incited and encouraged by his example,--he who, if he be the same (_vide supra_, , ) with nin and nebo, we have seen called "the sustainer," "the supporter," "he who strengthens the hearts of his followers," who taught them the cultivation of the soil, and of whom it is now said more distinctly than we have seen it heretofore stated, _legesque dedit_.[ ] [ ] _vide supra_, p. . [ ] an indirect argument in proof of the identity of saturn and noah might be adduced if i had space to incorporate boulanger's evidence of the ceremonies among the ancients' commemoration of the deluge, ("vestiges d'usages hydrophoriques dans plusieurs fêtes anciennes et modernes"). this being assumed, is it not of some significance that when the roman pontiffs proceeded to the banks of the tiber to perform their annual (commemorative) ceremonial, that they should make their expiatory sacrifices to saturn? the points that bryant takes (ii. ) are very striking:--"he was looked upon as the _author_ of time, 'ipse qui _auctor_ temporum' (macrob. i. ). [his medals had on the reverse the figure of _a ship_.] they represented him as of an uncommon age, with hair white as snow; they had a notion that he _would return to second childhood_. 'ipsius autem canities primosis nivibus candicabat; _licet etiam ille puer posse fieri crederetur_.'--martianus capella. martial's address to him, though short, has in it something remarkable, for he speaks of him as a native _of the former world_-- 'antiqui rex magne poli, _mundique prioris_, sub quo prima quies, nec labor ullus erat.'--l. , e. . i have mentioned that he was supposed, [greek: katapinein], to have _swallowed up his children_; he was also said to have _ruined all things_; which, however, _were restored with a vast increase_."--orphic hymn, , v. . compare calmet, _supra_, pp. and . martianus capella and varro de ling. lat. lib. i. , call him _sator_, a sower, "saturnus sator." now it is curious that the ancient germans had a god "of the name of _sator_." he is described by verstegan as "standing _upon a fish_, with a wheel in one hand, and in the other a _vessel of water_ filled with fruits and flowers." _n.b._--i was surprised to find in carver's "travels in north america" (p. ) the phrase among the north american indians, of things being done at the instigation "of the grand _sautor_." there is no doubt much that is monstrous and grotesque in the classical conception of saturn, but i must again suggest that as all traditions met in noah, and were tradited through him, we must not be surprised to find all antediluvian traditions confused in noah. thus even the tradition of lamech, which we have seen (_vide supra_, ) variously distorted in the legends of perseus and oedipus, are again repeated in the legends of saturn. there are, no doubt, also divers astral complications arising out of saturn's place in the planetary system. when, however, we are told that saturn was son of coelus and tellus or coelus and vesta,[ ] the same as terra (montfauçon), it seems to occur to us, as a thing "qui saute aux yeux," that this was only a mode of expressing a truth, applicable to all men in general, and saturn as a primal progenitor in particular, and having reference to the composite nature of man; in other words, that this was simply the tradition which noah would have handed down that he was created,[ ] as were all other men, out of the earth, yet with something ethereal in his composition which came direct from the deity. what the astral explanation may be i am at a loss to imagine. it cannot by any possibility be supposed to have reference to their relative positions in the heavens. [ ] "saturn is by plato supposed to have been the son of _oceanus_."--bryant, ii. . [ ] _vide_ autochthones, ch. vii. i shall return to saturn, under the representation of oceanus, when i come to speak of janus. ii. _bacchus._--the _saturnalia_ may be taken as the connecting link between _saturn_ and _bacchus_, and i think that it is sufficiently remarkable that there should be this link of connection. but as the legends of saturn are not all derived from noah, so neither do all the traditions concerning bacchus appertain to saturn. i shall simply separate and note such as appear to me to be in common, _e.g._ "that bacchus found out the making of wine, the art of planting trees, and many things else commodious for mankind." ["and noah, a husbandman, began to till the ground, and planted a vineyard, and drinking the wine was made drunk," gen. ix. .][ ] it is said there were several bacchuses. this may be only a reduplication, such as we have seen in the case of oannes, nin, and nebo, or as in the multiplications of jupiter. "joves omnes reges vocarunt antiqui."[ ] [ ] "the scriptures tell us that noah cultivated the vine; and all profane historians agree in placing bacchus in the first ages of the world" (in proof of early cultivation of the vine).--goguet, "origin of laws," i. . compare _supra_, p. , "saturnus _sator_." bryant says, "the history of dionusus is closely connected with that of bacchus, though they are two distinct persons." he supposes dionusus to be noah, and bacchus ham. but he may very well have embodied the traditions of both. pausanius (lib. iii. ) says dionusus was exposed _in an ark_ and wonderfully _preserved_. he was also said to have been twice born, and to have had two fathers and two mothers, in allusion to the two periods of his existence separated by the deluge. dionusus (orphic hymn, , ) is addressed as [greek: elthe, makar dionyse, pyrispore tauroumetôpe]. [ ] the phrase "father bacchus," current among the ancients (_vide_ hor. odes. i. xviii.) has always struck me as singular. it is perfectly congruous with the tradition of noah; but who will tell us its appropriate solar or astral application? on this subject montfauçon says (i. )[ ] apropos of a point to which i shall again refer, viz. that bacchus was _tauri_cornis. "diodorus siculus says that the horns are only ascribed to the second bacchus, the son of jupiter and proserpine; but these distinctions of various bacchus were minded only in the more ancient times, hardly known in their worship.... this will also hold good of most of the other gods who were multiplied in the same manner." [ ] montfauçon, from whom i have quoted, was simply an antiquarian--a very erudite and laborious antiquarian, but one whose sole concern was to discriminate facts without reference to their bearings, and who would have had, i have little doubt, a supreme contempt for the speculations in which i have indulged. he says in his preface--"i have a due regard for those great men who have excelled in this sort of learning, but must own at the same time i have no taste for it.... _it signifies very little to us to know_ whether they who tell us vulcan was the same with tubalcain, or they who say he was the same with moses, make the best guess in the matter." though the general opinion may not incline any more now than then to the biblical interpretation, yet i think a great change has taken place in public opinion as to the importance of the inquiry. triptolemus was also said to have been "the inventor of the plough and of agriculture, and of civilisation, which is the result of it," and to have instituted the elusinian mysteries. like bacchus he is also said to have "ridden all over the earth, making men acquainted with the blessings of agriculture."--_smith. myth. dict.; vide_ also _infra_, p. : "deucalion." vicomte d'anselme (gainet, i. ), asks with reference to his greek name of dionysius, "pourquoi les grecs donnaient-ils le nom de dionysos ou de divin noush (dios nous ou noë) à l'inventeur du vin?"--_vide supra_, ch. ix.; vide also gainet, i. . bacchus is by some called "_tauri_cornis" (compare _supra_, p. , nin) "or bucornis, and moreover he is frequently so represented," (_i.e._ not only with the horn in hand, a "_bull's_ horn," as he is sometimes, which might be a drinking horn or cornucopia, in its way emblematical of the vir agricola"), "but also with horns on the head. horace calls him "bicorniger," orpheus, [greek: boukerôs]; nicander, [greek: taurokerôs]."--_montfauçon_, i. , ; comp. p. , note to "nin." one bacchus, cicero tells us, "was king of asia and author of the _laws_ called subazian."--_montfauçon_, i. . it is, moreover, said that bacchus travelled through all nations as far as india,[ ] doing good in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man. his conquests are said to have been easy and without bloodshed. but it is also noted that amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect for his divinity, and indeed the _conduct_ and punishment of chanaan may be said to be narrated in the history of pentheus.--_vide_ _montf._ i. .[ ] [ ] dionusus like bacchus came to india from _the west_.--_philostratus_, lib. ii. ; _byrant_, ii. . the indian bacchus "appears in the character of a wise and distinguished oriental monarch; his features an expression of sublime tranquillity and mildness."--_smith, myth. dic._ [ ] this appears to me still more apparent in the th idyll of theocritus, where, when the bacchanals were at their revels, "perched on the sheer cliff pentheus would espy all.... (for profaning thus "these mysteries weird that must not be profaned by vulgar eyes," pentheus is torn to pieces by the bacchanals).... "warned by this tale, let no man dare defy great bacchus; lest a death more awful should he die. and when he counts _nine_ years or scarcely _ten_ rush to his ruin. may i pass my days _uprightly_, and be loved by _upright_ men. and take this motto, all who covet praise ('twas ægis-bearing jove that spoke it first), the godly seed fares well, _the wicked is accurst_." --_caverley's theocritus_, xxvi. this seems to bear out what is perhaps only vaguely implied in the sacred text that the curse was on chanaan--the boy and his posterity--and not on the whole race of cham.--_vide ante_: also compare the "bacchæ" of euripides, in the following passage from grote's "plato" (iii. ):--"so in the 'bacchæ' of euripides, the two old men, kadmus and teiresias, after vainly attempting to inculcate upon pentheus the belief in and the worship of dionysus, at last appeal to his prudence and admonish him of the danger of unbelief;" which, if it be tradition, would look as if chanaan's offence was only the final and overt expression of previous unbelief. iii. _janus._--janus represented the most ancient tradition of noah in italy; subsequent migrations brought in the legend of saturn, and thus we find them variously confounded--saturn sometimes figuring as his guest, sometimes as his son, sometimes as his colleague on the throne. like saturn he appears as double-headed or bifrons, he is said to have introduced civilisation among the wild tribes of italy, and under him, as under saturn, there appears to have been a golden age. i have made reference to _saturn_ as oceanus (_vide montfauçon_, i. ), and as oceanus his representations are very remarkable. in one he appears as an old man sitting on the waves of the sea, with a _sea monster_ on one side of him, and his spear or rod in his hand. in another as sitting on the waves of the sea with ships about him; he is "holding an urn and pours out water, the symbol of _the sea, and also of rivers and fountains_." _but janus is also_ represented in his medals "with a prow of a ship on the reverse," and he is said to have first invented crowns, _ships_, and _boats_, and to have coined the first money. "according to the accounts of mythologists," says macrobius, "_all families in the time of janus_ were full of religion and _holiness_." "xenon says he was the first that built temples and instituted sacred rites," and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices. with reference to his description as "bifrons," macrobius says (some say) he was so called "because he knew the past and future things.... some pretend to prove that janus is the sun, and that he is represented with two faces, because he is master of the two _doors_[ ] of heaven, and opens the day at his rising and shuts it at his setting." [ ] _vide_ dr smith's "myth. dict." art. janus:--"whereas the worship of _janus_ was introduced at rome by romulus, that of _sol_ was instituted by _titus tatius_." a good secondary explanation is,[ ] that "as janus always began the year" (whence january) "the two heads do look on and import the old and new year;" but then occurs the question--and this is why i submit that it is only a secondary explanation--how came janus to commence the year? [ ] if janus is allowed to have been identified with saturn (_supra_) we may see through the analogy of saturn how these secondary functions came to be attributed to him--saturn was also chronos [that chronos = noah, _vide_ _palmer's egypt. chron._, i. p. ]; "but," as dr smith says, "there is no resemblance between the deities, except that both were regarded as the most ancient deities in their respective countries." as chronos simply personifies antiquity itself, this only means that saturn was the most ancient deity. when subsequently he became merged in "chronos," his ancient sickle became converted into a scythe. dr smith ("dict. myth.") says, "he held in his hand a crooked pruning knife, and his feet were surrounded with a _woollen_ riband;" and goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says, "all old traditions speak of the _sickle_ of saturn, who is said to have taught the people of his time to cultivate the earth."--_plut._ i. p. , ; _macrob. sat._, lib. i. . goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says, "several critics are of opinion that the janus of the ancients is the same with javan the son of japhet, gen. x. ." it may afford a clue if i advert to the circumstance that whilst in the phoenician alphabet (_vide bunsen's egypt_. iv. , , ), dagon, dagan = corn (the fish-man, _vide supra_, p. ), stands for the letter d. "the door" is its hieroglyphic equivalent. thus we get in strange juxtaposition what we may call symbols, connecting janus with the fish-god and with the god of agriculture.--_vide supra_, p. , and _infra_. in the nomenclature of the calendar connected with any system of hero worship, worship of ancestors, or even spirit worship, who more fitly chosen to commence the year than janus, supposing him to be noah? there are, however, two what we may call primary explanations, and we must take our choice. the epithet is either applied to him, as exactly according with the reminiscence of noah, who was pre-eminently acquainted with the past and the future; or we can take the astral explanation that janus was called bifrons,[ ] because he opened the sun at his rising and shut it at his setting. as a symbol of noah this double head appears to me very simple and natural, noah forming the connecting link between the antediluvian and modern worlds; but as applied to the sun or to janus as in relation to the sun, even allowing for personification, this twofold head of man strikes me as incongruous in the extreme. besides, if it be allowed that it might apply to saturn and janus through the connecting idea of chronos, how does it apply to _bacchus_? let us press this argument further. here is a symbol common to bacchus, saturn, and janus, and combining harmoniously in each instance with the representation of noah. can this symbol, common to these three, combine even congruously with any solar or astral legend? i have somewhere seen it noted as suspicious and as tending to confirm the solar theory that these mythological personages all "journey from _east_ to west, and meet their fate in the evening." but is this so? have we not just seen that bacchus, according to mythology, travelled from the _west_ into india? [ ] bryant ("mythology," ii. ) says, "many persons of great learning have not scrupled to determine that noah and janus were the same. by plutarch he is called [greek: iannos], and represented as an ancient prince who reigned in the infancy of the world.... he was represented with two faces, with which he looked both forwards and backwards; and from hence he had the name of janus bifrons. one of these faces was that of an aged man; but in the other was often to be seen the countenance of a young and beautiful personage. about him ... many emblems.... there was particularly a _staff in one hand_, with which he pointed to a rock, from whence issued a profusion of water. in the other hand he held a key.... he had generally near him _some resemblance of a ship_.... plutarch does not accede to the common notion" (that it was the ship that brought saturn to italy), "but still _makes it a question why_ the coins of this personage bore on one side the resemblance of janus bifrons, and on the other the representation of either the hind part or the fore part _of a ship_.... he is said to have first composed a chaplet, and to him they attributed the _invention of a ship_. upon the sicilian coins (at the temple) of eryx _his_ figure often occurs with a twofold countenance, and on the reverse _is a dove_ encircled with a crown, which seems _to be of olive_. he is represented as a _just man_ and _a prophet_ (comp. pp. - ), and had the remarkable characteristics of being in a manner the author of time and the god of the year." but not only were saturn, janus, and bacchus represented as "bifrons," but so also was cecrops. cecrops will present a difficulty the more in the way of any solar theory; but cecrops,[ ] like all founders or supposed founders of states, has something in common with noah. like saturn and janus in italy, cecrops was said to have brought the population of attica into cities, to have given them laws, taught them the worship of the idols, _planted the olive_, and finally, was represented as half man, half serpent.[ ] [ ] "megasthenes stated that the first king (of india) was dionysus. he found a rude population in a savage state, clothed in skins, unacquainted with agriculture, and without fixed habitations. the length of his reign is not given. the introduction of civilization and agriculture is a natural allusion to the immigration of the aryans into a country inhabited by turanian races.... fifteen generations after dionysus, hercules reigned.... now all this is obviously pure indian tradition. dionysus is the elder manu, the divine primeval man, son of the sun (vivasvat). he holds the same position in the primeval history of india as does jima or gemshid, another name of the primeval man in the iranian world.... the first era, then, is represented by megasthenes as having fourteen generations of human kings, with a god as the founder and a god as the destroyer of the dynasty, in all fifteen or sixteen generations."--_bunsen's egypt_, iii. . compare those fifteen generations with palmer. compare the confusion of dionysus and hercules with deucalion and prometheus, &c., p. . pelasgus among the arcadians passed for the first man and the first legislator (boulanger, i. ). of cadmus, too, it is said--"greece is indebted to him for alphabetical writing, the art of _cultivating the vine_, and the forging and working of _metals_."--_goguet_, ii. . [ ] _vide supra_, oannes, ch. ix.; _vide_ smith, "myth. dict." to return to janus. before concluding i must note that janus is called eanus by cicero, which may perhaps have analogy with "hea and hoa" (ch. ix.), and with eannes and "oannes," although cicero derives it from "eundo." janus was also called "consivius a conserendo," because he presided over generation, a title singularly appropriate to noah as the second founder of the race, and through whom the injunction was given "to increase and multiply."[ ] he is moreover called "quirinus or martialis," "because he presided over war," which is precisely the aspect under which it is the original and main purpose of this dissertation to consider noah; and here i think i am entitled to urge, that if i have succeeded on other grounds in showing that nin, hoa, janus, &c., represented noah, then that these epithets, "quirinus," "martialis," "king of battle," &c., can only be applied to him whose conquests were bloodless in the sense of controlling and regulating war.[ ] in connection with this title of "martialis," as applied to janus--and, by the by, all the traditions concerning him are altogether peaceful and bloodless--it will be remembered that his temple was open in war and shut in peace, and closed for the third and last time at the moment of the birth of our lord. [ ] "all nations have given the honour of the discovery of agriculture to their _first_ sovereigns. the egyptians said that osiris (_vide supra_, p. ) made men desist from eating each other, by teaching them to cultivate the earth. the chinese annals relate that gin-hoang, one of the first kings of that country, invented agriculture, and by that means collected men into society, who before had wandered in the fields and woods like brute beasts." (goguet, "origin of laws.") i need not remind the reader that goguet's learned work is not written from our point of view. compare _infra_, p. . [ ] _vide_, chap. xiii. golden age, mexican tradition. his name was also invoked first in religious ceremonies, "because, as presiding over armies," &c., through him only could prayers reach the immortal gods. is not this a reminiscence of the communications of the almighty to man through noah? iv. _ogyges and deucalion._--i might pass over these traditions of noah, since, having reference only to the fact of the deluge and the personality of noah, they will not furnish matter for the special purpose of this inquiry; but on these grounds the investigation may be justified, and moreover seems necessary, for the completion of this chapter, and to indicate the independent source and derivation of the classical tradition. it appears to me manifest that the deluges of ogyges and deucalion were neither locally historical nor partial deluges, but merely the reminiscences of the universal deluge. of the universal deluge, whether we call it the mosaic deluge or not, there is evidence and tradition in all parts of the world; though in every instance it is localised in its details and its history of the survivors.[ ] [ ] although the greater number of these traditions have been localised, yet in almost every case we shall find embodied in them some one incident or other of the universal deluge, as recorded by moses. kalisch ("hist. and crit. commentary on the old testament") says:--"it is unnecessary to observe that there is scarcely a single feature in the biblical account which is not discovered in one or several of the heathen traditions; and the coincidences are not limited to desultory details, they extend to the whole outlines, and the very tenor and spirit of the narrative; ... and it is certain that none of these accounts are derived from the pages of the bible--they are independent of each other.... there must indisputably have been a common basis, a universal source, and this source is the general tradition of primitive generations." it is not, i think, generally known how widespread these traditions are. l'abbé gainet has collected some thirty-five ("la bible sans la bible"); but mr catlin (_vide infra_, p. ) says he found the tradition of a deluge among one hundred and twenty tribes which he visited in north, south, and central america. this accords with humboldt's testimony (kalisch, i. ), who "found the tradition of a general deluge vividly entertained among the wild tribes peopling the regions of orinoco." to these i must add the evidence of the indirect testimony of the commemorative ceremonies which i have collected in another chapter (_vide_ p. ). it has been said that the chinese tradition is too obscure to be adduced, but we shall see (p. ) whether, when in contact with other traditions, it cannot be made to give light; and i shall refer my readers to the pages of mr palmer (_supra_, p. ) for evidence of the tradition in egypt, where it had heretofore been believed that no such evidence was to be found. in india (_vide_ ch. ix.) the tradition is embodied in the history of manu and the fish; and bunsen ("egypt," iii. ) admits "that there is evidence in the vedas, however slight, that the flood does form a part of the reminiscences of iran." _vide_ also p. , evidence of the tradition in cashmere. i wish also to direct attention here to two recent and important testimonies to the existence of the tradition in india and the himalayan range. at pp. and of hunter's "bengal," it will be seen that the santals have a distinct tradition of the creation, flood, intoxication of noah, and the dispersion; and of the vedic evidence, which bunsen (_supra_, ) calls slight, mr hunter says:--"on the other hand, the sanscrit story of the deluge, like that in the pentateuch, makes no mystery of the matter. a ship is built, seeds are taken on board, the ship is pulled about for some time by a fish, and at last gets on shore upon a peak of the himalayas." dr hooker ("himalayan journal," ii. ) says:--"the lepchas have a curious legend of a man and woman having saved themselves on the _summit_ of tendong (a very fine mountain, feet) during a flood which _once deluged sikhim_," which he authenticates on the spot. here, as in many of mr catlin's instances of local tradition, i may observe that the event as recorded proves the universality of the deluge for the rest of the world, or at least all the world below the level of tendong. in speaking, however, of the universal deluge (universal as far as the human race are concerned), i do not enter into the geological argument, or exclude the view (permissible i believe, _vide_ reusch, p. , and note to rev. h. j. coleridge's fourth sermon on "the latter days") that it was not geographically universal. i merely adhere to the testimony of tradition, and from this point of view it would suffice (_vide_ reusch) that it was universal so far as the horizon of the survivors extended. since, however, there is nothing to be said against the possibility of subsequent partial inundations, there will, i suppose, always be found persons ready to maintain that the deluges of ogyges and deucalion were partial and historical; although i submit that the arguments which were formerly used to prove the priority of ogyges to deucalion, and the posteriority of both to the general deluge, turned upon points of chronology which will hardly be sustained at the present day. if, however, i can succeed in showing that the deluge of deucalion is identical with the deluge of noah, i shall consider that i shall have also proved the point for the deluge of ogyges, which all agree to have been much older! the following is mr grote's narrative collating the different traditions respecting the deluge of deucalion:-- "deukalion is important in grecian mythical narration under two points of view. first, he is the person specially saved at the time of the general deluge; next, he is the father of hellên, the great eponym of the hellenic race; at least that was the more current story, though there were other statements which made hellên the son of zeus." [this was merely the incipient process of the apotheosis of their more immediate founder.] "the enormous iniquity with which the earth was contaminated, as apollodorus says, by the then existing _brazen_ race, or, as others say, by the fifty monstrous sons of sykorôn, provoked zeus to send a general deluge." "the latter account is given by dionys. halic. i. ; the former seems to have been given by hellenikus, who affirmed that the _ark_ after the deluge stopped upon mount othrys, and not upon mount parnassus (_schol. pind. ut supra_), the former being suitable for a settlement in thessaly." [i have already pointed out how the general tradition is everywhere localised.] "an _unremitting_ and _terrible rain_ laid the whole of greece under water except the highest mountain-tops, where a few stragglers found refuge. deukalion was saved in a chest or ark, which he had been forewarned by his father prometheus to construct. after he had floated for nine days on the water, he at length landed on the summit of mount parnassus. zeus hearing, sent hermes to him, promising to grant whatever he asked. he prayed that men and companions might be sent him in his solitude: accordingly zeus directed both him and pyrrha to cast stones over their heads, those cast by pyrrha became women, those by deukalion men. and thus the 'stony race of men' (if we may be allowed to translate an etymology which the greek language presents exactly, and which has not been disdained by hesiod, by pindar, by epicharmes, and by virgil), came to tenant the soil of greece. deukalion on landing from the ark sacrificed a grateful offering to zeus phyxios, or the god of escape; he also erected altars in thessaly to the twelve great gods of olympus. the reality of this deluge was firmly believed throughout the historical ages of greece (localising it, however, and post-dating it to b.c.) statements founded upon this event were in circulation throughout greece even to a very late date. the magarians ... and in the magnificent temple of the olympian zeus at athens, a cavity in the earth was shown, through which it was affirmed that the water of the deluge had retired. even in the time of pausanias the priests poured into this cavity holy offerings of meal and honey. in this, as in other parts of greece, _the idea of the deukalionian deluge was blended with the religious impressions of the people, and commemorated by their most sacred ceremonies_."--_grote's "history of greece,"_ vol. i. ch. v. , , "_the deluge_."[ ] [ ] mr grote certainly says--"apollodorus connects this deluge with the wickedness of the brazen race in hesiod, according to the practice general with the logographers of stringing together a sequence out of legends totally unconnected with each other." one would have thought in one's simplicity that if any two legends linked well together, uniting in common agreement with the scriptural account, it would be the legends of the deluge and the brazen age. mr max müller (comp. "myth.," "chips.," ii. ), incidentally speaking of the legend of deucalion, treats it with great contempt. "what is more ridiculous," he says, "than the mythological account of the creation of the human race by deucalion and pyrrha throwing stones behind them (a myth which owes its origin to a mere pun on [greek: laos] and [greek: laas])." and ridiculous it certainly is from any point of view from which mr max müller could regard it, _i.e._ either as the invention of a mythic period, or as a fugitive allegory arising out of some astral or solar legend: _per contra_, i shall submit that there is nothing forced in supposing that this legend arose out of some one of the processes of corruption to which all tradition is prone, of the known fact that the human race was re-propagated by deucalion or noah.[ ] if i am asked to explain how it came about that there should have been this identity between the word for a "man" and a "stone," i must simply confess my ignorance. perhaps if mr max müller could be brought to look at things more from the point of view of biblical traditions, he might be enabled to see it. all that i can suggest is, that perhaps it may have a common origin with that homeric expression quoted by mr max müller at p. (_vide supra_), "thou art not sprung from the olden tree or from the rock." i consider that i shall definitely establish, however, that it originates in a tradition and not "a mere pun," and at any rate that it is not local, it is not greek. it is no doubt singular that the word for man, [greek: laos], populus, should so closely resemble the word for a stone, [greek: laas]; but not only is this coincidence found in the greek, but we shall see that it is widely spread in all parts of the world. in proof, i adduce the following extract from dr hooker's inaugural lecture at norwich in , (since the publication of mr max müller's work):-- "it is a curious fact that the khasian word for a stone, 'man,' as commonly occurs in the names of their villages and places as that of man, maen, and men does in those of brittany, wales, cornwall, &c.; thus mansmai signifies in khasia the stone of oath; manloo, the stone of salt; manflong, the grassy stone; and just as in wales pen mæn maur signifies the hill of the big stone; and in britanny a menhir is a standing stone, and a dolmen a table stone," &c.[ ] [ ] let the significance of the following coincidence be considered in connection with the evidence at p. , boulanger, "ces fêtes (atheniasmes, 'anthisteries') avoient pour objet une commémoration (of the deluge) et l'on en _attribuoit la fondation à deucalion_; elles étoient _aussi_ consacrées à _bacchus_, ce qui les a fait nommés les _anciennes_ ou les _grandes bacchanales_."--comp. ch. xi. p. , also _supra_, . [ ] it is the fashion to deride bryant's etymology, and no doubt he did not write in the light of modern science; but i find ("mythology," iii. ) that he had already given this information. "_main_, from whence _moenia_, signified in the primitive language a stone, or stones, and also a building." here it is seen that the word for stone in these respective places is the same with our word "man;" it is not specifically said that the word would carry this sense also in the places indicated, but i infer it from the analogy which runs through _homo_, _homme_, and by a connection of ideas through the greek [greek: ômos] to the sanscrit--thus "âma-ad" ([greek: ômos-edô]), are names applied "in the sanscrit" to "barbarians" who are cannibals. (max müller, ii. p. .) and i am not sure that mr max müller does not say so directly, in reference to the word "brahman," for although the word originally is said to mean _power_ (i. ), yet "another word with the accent on the last syllable, is _brahmán_, the _man_ who prays."--_max müller_, i. .[ ] also kenrick ("essay on primæval history," p. ), "thus the hindus attribute the origin of their institutions and race to manu, whose name is equivalent to _man_. the germans made tuisto (teutsch) and his son mannus to be the origin and founder of their nation." also sir w. jones' "asiat. res." i. ; rawlinson's "bamp. lect." lect. ii. :--"from _manu_ the earth was re-peopled, and from him _man_kind received their name _manudsha_." gainet (i. ) says:--"the stones changed then into men by deucalion and pyrrha, are they not their children according to nature? in syriac the word 'eben' signifies equally a child and a stone. in spite of these confusions their accounts of the deluge are striking as well on account of their resemblance, as on account of their universality, as the reader will soon be able to convince himself."--_vide gainet_, i. .[ ] [ ] mr max müller, in his "lectures on the science of language," first series, says of "man":--"the latin word 'homo,' the french 'l'homme' ... is derived from the same root, which we have in 'humus,' soil, 'humilis,' humble. homo, therefore, would express the idea of being made of the dust of the earth.... there is a third name for man.... 'ma,' in the sanscrit, means to measure.... 'man,' a derivative root, means to think. from this we have the sanscrit 'manu,' originally thinker, then man. in the later sanscrit we find derivations such as 'mânava, mânasha, manushya,' all expressing man. in gothic we find both '_man_,' and 'maunisk,' the modern german 'maun,' and 'mensch.' there were many more names for man, as there were many names for all things in ancient language." as an instance of the correspondence of old egyptian and welsh, bunsen's "philosophy of univ. hist.," i. , gives "egyptian, 'man' = rockstone; welsh, 'maen;' irish, 'main' (coll. latin, 'moenia;' hebrew, 'e-ben')." and (p. ) bunsen says--"the divine mannus, the ancestor of the germans, _is absolutely identical_ with manus, who, according to ancient indian mythology, is the god who created man anew after the deluge, _just as deucalion did_." [ ] the _saturday review_, nov. , (reviewing "the indian tribes of guiana," by the rev. w. brett), says of the indian traditions:--"the 'old people's stories' of the creation and the deluge are highly characteristic.... under the rule of sigu, son of maikonaima, the tree of life was planted, in whose stem were pent up the whole of the waters which were to be let forth by measure to stock every river and lake with fish. twarrika, the mischievous monkey, forced open the magic cover which kept down the waters, and the next minute was swept away with _all things living_ by the bursting flood. _the re-peopling_ of the world, as described by the tamanacs of the orinoco _recalls the legend of deucalion_. one man and one woman took refuge on the mountain tama_nacu_. _they then threw over their heads_ the fruits of the mauritia (or ita) palm, from the _kernel_ of which sprang men and women who once more peopled the earth." but if the whole human race were re-propagated by deucalion and pyrrha, how are we to locate the _anterior_ legend of ogyges, occurring among the same people? it is barely possible that the memory of a long antecedent and partial deluge may have remained in the memories of the survivors of the subsequent and universal calamity, but the much more reasonable conjecture seems to be that it was by a different channel the reminiscence of the same event. it must be remembered that it was the ogygian deluge which was said to have been partial and to have inundated attica. the deluge of deucalion by all accounts, except by pindar, was considered to have been universal, and corresponds in its details with mosaic accounts, _e.g._ it was universal, covering the tops of the highest mountains; it was caused by the depravity of mankind; the single pair who were saved, were saved in a ship or an ark, and floated many days on the waters. in the end, they settled on the top of a mountain, went to consult the oracle (as noah is said to have sacrificed and to have had communications with god), and re-peopled the earth. the version of lucian gives particulars which brings the tradition to almost exact correspondence. deucalion and his wife were saved (on account of their rectitude and piety) together with his sons and their wives. he was accompanied into the ark by the pigs, horses, lions, and serpents, who came to him in pairs. if the account of lucian is somewhat recent, on the other hand it is the account of a professed scoffer, and moreover, shows what i do not remember to have seen noted from this point of view that the tradition was common to syria as well as greece. this brings us to the contrary, but, as it appears to me, much less formidable objection--bearing in mind that the tradition of the deluge is common to mexico, india, china, the islands of the pacific, &c. &c.--viz. that the tradition came to greece from asia. this is mr kenrick's objection[ ] (_vide_ preface to grote's "history of greece," d ed.) the most direct, and, as it appears to me, sufficient answer, seems to be that it was necessarily so; since, _ex hypothesi_, the population itself came to greece from asia. mr kenrick says, "it is doubtful whether the tradition of deucalion's flood is older than the time when the intercourse with greece began to be frequent," _i.e._ about the fifth century b.c. (p. .) but as the septuagint, according to mr kenrick himself, could not have influenced greece till the third century, this tradition can only have been the primeval tradition. mr kenrick is a fair opponent, and i must do him the justice to add that he repudiates the voltairean suggestion that this tradition originated in a hebrew invention. if then the inhabitants of greece, who came originally from asia, had not the tradition, or had it imperfectly, when they arrived, it can only have been because they had lost it; but as admittedly they recovered it at a later period, the presumption, even on this showing, is, at least for those who can realise how difficult it would be to make a pure fiction, as distinguished from a corrupt tradition, run current, more especially among different nationalities and during a lengthened period,--that when circumstances brought them again into contact with asia, they added fresh incidents, only because they found the tradition fresher there than among themselves. _voila tout!_ for mr kenrick's whole argument depends entirely upon this--that "as we reach the time when the greeks enjoyed more extensive and leisurely communication with asia, through the conquests of alexander ... we find new circumstances introduced into the story which assimilates it more closely to the asiatic tradition." [ ] "essay on primæval history." it has been allowed (_vide supra_) that the tradition of deucalion is as old as the fifth century b.c., and, not to speak of the deluge of ogyges, connected with what was earliest in grecian history, the following passage from kenrick seems to me in evidence of long antecedent traditions among the greeks themselves, which they must have brought with them originally from asia.[ ] [ ] "according to the calculations of varro, the deluge of ogyges occurred years before inachus, _i.e._ years before the first olympiad, which would bring it to years before the christian era; now, according to the hebrew text, the deluge of noah took place b.c., which makes only a difference of years. it is true that many other authors have reconciled these epochs." hesiod and homer are silent on the subject of both deucalion and ogyges.... "it results from these considerations that the traditions of the ancient nations of the world confirm the narrative of genesis, _not only_ as to the existence, but even as to the _epoch_, of this catastrophe as fixed by moses. mersius (_apud_ gronovium, iv. ) cites more than twenty ancient authors who speak of ogyges as appertaining in their eyes to what was _most primitive_ in greece. he is son of neptune. he is the first founder of the kingdom of thebes. servius represents him _as coming immediately after saturn and the golden age_ [which directly connects noah with saturn, and the golden age with noah]. hesychius says of ogyges that he represented all that was most ancient in greece. that, indeed, passed into a proverb; they said, 'old as ogyges,' as if they said, 'old as adam'" (gainet, i. ). mr kenrick says (p. ):-- "the account of deucalion, given by apollodorus (i. , ), bears evident marks of being compounded of two fables originally distinct, in one of which, and probably the older, the descent of the hellenes was traced through deucalion to prometheus and pandora, without mention of a deluge. in the other, the destruction of the brazen race by a flood, the re-peopling the earth by the casting of stones, is related in the common way. that these two narratives cannot originally have belonged to the same myths is evident from their incongruity; for as mankind were created by prometheus, the father of deucalion, there was no time for them to have passed through those stages of degeneracy by which they reached the depravity of the brazen age." here are evidently two early traditions, ostensibly greek, distinct, it is true, yet perfectly compatible. the one the tradition of grecian descent through noah to adam and eve, the other the tradition of the deluge. but after what we have already seen (_vide supra_, pp. , ) of reduplications and inversions, can a serious argument be based upon the expression that deucalion (noah) was the son of prometheus (adam)?[ ] is it not a most natural and inevitable _façon-de-parler_ to connect the descendant directly and immediately with his remote ancestor, _e.g._ "fils de st louis--fils de louis capet--montez au ciel!" [ ] in the same way we find "mentuhotep," or "sesortasen i." named, "when all other ancestors are omitted, as the sole connecting link between amosis (xviii. dynasty) and menes." _vide_ palmer's "egyptian chronicles," i. . so, too, are fohi (whom i believe to be adam) and shin-nong (noah) connected and linked together in chinese chronology. "i. fohi the great brilliant (tai-hao), cultivation of _astronomy_ and religion as well as _writing_. he reigned years. then came fifteen reigns. ii. shin-nong (divine _husbandman_). institution of _agriculture_ [compare _ante_, ch. x.] the knowledge of simples applied as the art of medicine."--bunsen's "egypt," iii. , chap. on chinese chronology. _vide ante_, ; chap. on tradition, p. ; prometheus. i do not of course attempt, within this narrow compass, to grasp mr kenrick's entire view. i am merely dealing with the special argument; but it is curious to note how the line of reasoning adopted by mr kenrick, whilst it sustains the greek traditions, as traditions (though not greek), unconsciously neutralises the arguments which would dispose of the testimonies derived from them, by saying that they were not traditions of a general, but of a local and a partial deluge. these latter arguments appear to have had weight with one against whom i hardly venture to run counter, frederick schlegel ("phil. of hist." p. )--"the irruption of the black sea into the thracian bosphorus is regarded by very competent judges in such matters as an event perfectly historical, or at least, from its proximity to the historical times, as not comparatively of so primitive a date." compare with passage from mr kenrick.[ ] schlegel adds:--"all these great physical changes are not necessarily and exclusively to be ascribed to the last general deluge. the presumed irruption of the mediterranean into the ocean, as well as many other mere partial revolutions in the earth and sea, may have occurred much later, and quite apart from this great event" (p. ). but it may also have occurred much _earlier_, as is clear from the following passage from schlegel, to which i wish to direct the attention of geologists, and in which schlegel speaks according to the original insight of his own mind, and not in deference to the opinions of others:-- "these words ('the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; but the spirit of god moved upon the face of the waters,' gen. x.), which announce the presage of a new morn of creation, not only represent a darker and wilder state of the globe, but very clearly show the element of water to be still in predominant force. even the division of the elements, of the waters above the firmament, and of the waters below it, on the second day of creation, the permanent limitation of the sea for the formation and visible appearance of the dry land, necessarily imply a mighty revolution in the earth, and afford additional proof that the mosaic history speaks not only of one but of many catastrophes of nature, _a circumstance that has not been near enough attended to in the geological interpretation and illustration of the bible_."--_schlegel_, p. . [ ] kenrick (p. ) says:--"the fact of traces of the action of water at a higher level in ancient times on these shores is unquestionable; under the name of _raised beaches_ such phenomena are familiar to geologists on many coasts; but that the tradition (in samothrace) was produced by _speculation_ on its _cause_, not by an obscure recollection of its _occurrence_, is also clear; for it has been shown by physical proofs that a discharge of the waters of the euxine (black sea) would not cause such a deluge as _the tradition supposed_" (cuvier, disc. sur les revolutions du globe, ed. ). if these speculations were made at the commencement of grecian history, and the speculations had reference to evidence of diluvian disruption along the highway by which they passed into greece, should we not expect that theories of the violent rather than the gentler and gradual action of water would dominate in their geological tradition? colonel george greenwood, in "rain and rivers," p. , says on the contrary--("with reference to the theory that valleys are formed by 'rain and rivers'")--"there is, perhaps, no creed of man which, like this, can be traced up to the most remote antiquity, and traced down from the most remote antiquity to the present day. lyell has himself quoted pythagoras for it, through the medium of ovid:-- 'eluvie mons est deductus in æquor quodquo fuit campus _vallem decursus aquarum_ fecit.' but pythagoras only enunciates the doctrine of eastern antiquity; that is, of the egyptians, the chaldæans, and the hindoos. but since pythagoras introduced this doctrine in the west, if it has ever slumbered, it has perpetually _re_-originated. lyell shows that among the greeks it was taught by aristotle; among the romans by strabo; among the saracens by avicenna; in italy by moro, geneselli, and targioni; and in england by ray, hutton, and playfair."--_rain and rivers_, by col. george greenwood. longmans, . d edit. the point that is material to this discussion is to decide whether or not those disruptions in thrace are historical and subsequent to the deluge. now, here mr kenrick's main theory, that "speculation is the source of tradition," comes in with fatal effect to dispose of the arguments i am combating, and yet in no way at this point militates against the view i am urging, that these supposed inundations were localisations of the tradition of the general deluge which the pelasgi brought with them from asia. mr kenrick says (p. ):-- "it was a [greek: logos], a popular legend, among the greeks, that thessaly had once been a lake, and that neptune had opened a passage for the waters through the vale of tempe (herod. , ). the occupation of the banks of the rivers of this district by the pelasgi tribes, which must have been _subsequent_ to the opening of the gorge, is the _earliest_ fact in greek history, and the 'logos' itself no doubt originated in a very simple speculation. the sight of a narrow gorge, the sole outlet of the waters of a whole district, naturally suggests the idea of its having once been closed, and, as the necessary consequence, the inundation of the whole region which it now serves to drain." now, if this reasoning is just, it seems to establish two things pretty conclusively: first, that the current legend among the greeks was _not_ the tradition of a local deluge; but, if not a reminiscence, was at any rate the observation of the evidences of a deluge previous to their arrival. moreover, the deluge of their tradition exceeding the actual facts is in evidence of their recollection of an event adequate to such effects. second, that the tradition, if it arose out of a speculation, must have arisen out of a speculation made in the earliest commencement of greek history. it is difficult to reconcile the latter conclusion with mr kenrick's view that the tradition was imported from asia in the fifth century b.c. it is impossible to reconcile the former with the acceptation of a local and historical inundation in the time of the ogyges and deucalion of popular history. this digression on the legend of deucalion has led me away from what is properly the subject-matter of this inquiry; and i therefore propose now to summarise the results of the last two chapters. to pursue the tradition of noah in all its ramifications would extend the inquiry beyond the scope which is necessary for the purposes of my argument. it will have been seen, i think, that my object has not been merely antiquarian research. i have sought to bring into prominence the reminiscences of noah, which recall him at any rate as the depository of the traditions, if not the expositor of the science of mankind, as the channel, if not the fountain-head, of law, which thus became the law of nations--as the intermediary through whom the communications of the most high passed to mankind, and under whose authority mankind held together during some three hundred years.[ ] [ ] gen. vi. ; viii. ; vi. ; ix. ; viii. ; ix. ; and ecclesiasticus xliv. , , , , "the covenants of the world were made with him." let me collect more directly and more fully the epithets in this sense which are dispersed in the above traditions. we have seen that calmet properly identifies saturn with noah; that according to virgil and plutarch "under saturn was the golden age;" saturn of whom hesiod says:--"him of mazy counsel, saturn;" that in the tradition, as we see it in virgil, he is described as bringing his scattered people into social life, and the noticeable phrase is used _legesque dedit_;[ ] that in bacchus, directly connected with saturn through the _saturnalia_, we also see much in his characteristics in common with saturn, all which equally identifies him with noah; and bacchus, as we are told by cicero, was the author of the "laws called subazian."[ ] in janus, too, we find great resemblances to saturn, and in the very respects which would identify him with noah. under janus as under saturn was the golden age, and it is added that in the time of janus, "all families were full of religion and holiness," and although his rule is described as singularly peaceful, he is called quirinus and martialis, as presiding over war. the closing and opening of his temple, too, had a conspicuous and direct connection with peace and war. [ ] i feel justified in bringing in attestation also the following verses of the "oracula sybillina," for, as i have already said, even if they be forgeries of the second century a.d., they at any rate represent the tradition at that date (i. v. ):-- "noë fidelis amans æqui servata periclis egredere audenter, simul et cum conjuge nati tresque nurus: et vos terræ loca vasta replete, crescite multiplice numero, _sacrataque jura tradite_ natorum natis.... hinc nova progenies hinc _ætas aurea_ prima exorta est hominum.... ... ast illo se tempore regia primum imperia ostendent terris quum _foedere facto_ tres justi reges, divisis partibus æquis, _sceptra_ diu populis imponent _sanctaque tradent jura_ viris."... compare also the following verses (orac. sybil, i. ) with the vedic tradition (_infra_, p. ) of the promise made to satiavrata, and the babylonian tradition respecting hoa (_infra_): "... collige, noë, tuas vires ... ... si scieris me divinæ te nulla rei secreta latebunt." [ ] i only instance this as evidence that laws of some sort were attributed to bacchus, whom the traditions also speak of as king of asia: to judge of these laws by what we know of the subazian mysteries, would be as if we were to form our opinion of the mandan ceremonies (_vide infra_, ch. xi.) by the last day's orgies only. in this matter we may say with cicero, _de legibus_, ii. --"omnia tum perditorum civium scelere ... religionum jura polluta sunt." if we turn back to the mythological prototypes in assyria we find him as hoa in connection with "the mystic animal, half-man half-fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris," himself "known to the first settlers;" he is called "the intelligent guide, or, according to another interpretation, the intelligent fish," "the teacher of mankind," "the lord of understanding;" "one of his emblems is the wedge or arrow-head, the essential emblem of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron of the chaldæan alphabet." in the vedic tradition as satiavrata (_vide_ rawlinson's "bampton lect.," lect. ii. ), having been saved "from the destroying waves" in "a large vessel" sent from heaven for his use--which he entered accompanied "by pairs of all brute animals"--he is thus addressed, "then shalt thou know my true greatness, rightly named the supreme godhead; by my favour all thy questions _shall be answered_ and thy mind abundantly instructed;" and it is added that "after the deluge had abated," satiavrata was "instructed in all _human_ and _divine_ knowledge." in fine, if we recognise him as hoa, we shall find his benefactions to mankind thus summed up in berosus. (_vide_ the original in rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. .)[ ] [ ] layard ("nineveh and babylon," p. ) says, "we can scarcely hesitate to identify this mythic form (at kosyundik) with the oannes or sacred man-fish, who, according to the traditions preserved by berosus, issued from the _erethræan_ sea, instructed the _chaldæans_ in all wisdom, in the sciences and the fine arts, and was _afterwards_ worshipped as a god in the temples of babylonia.... five such monsters rose from the persian gulf at fabulous intervals of time (cory's "fragments," p. ). it has been conjectured that this myth denotes the conquest of chaldæa at some remote and pre-historic period by a comparatively civilised nation coming in ships to the mouth of the euphrates.... the _dagon_ of the philistines and of the inhabitants of the phoenician coast was worshipped, according to the united opinion of the hebrew commentators on the bible, under _the same form_." the five apparitions at long intervals may have been the confusion of the previous revelations to the patriarchs with those made to noah--or they may be reduplications (_vide supra_, p. ). "he is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all the arts, of the polity of cities, the construction and dedication of temples, _the introduction of laws_ ([greek: kai nomôn eisêgêseis]); to have taught them geometry, and to have shown them _by example_ the modes of _sowing the seed_ and gathering the _fruits of the earth_," [the "vir agricola" of genesis], and along with them to have tradited all the secrets which tend to humanise life. and no one else at that time was found more super-eminent than he."--_vide_ rawlinson, i. . we have seen that he was known to "the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris." the abbé de tressan says, berosus begins his history with these words:--"_in the first year_ appeared this extraordinary man" (oannes). now, with "the early settlers" on the euphrates and tigris the commencement of all things would have been naturally dated from the deluge. it appears to me worth while, in conclusion, to place more succinctly before the reader the _identical_ terms in which the ancients (various authors) spoke of the first founders of states or their earliest progenitor--compelling the conclusion that allusion was made to one and the same individual and epoch. bryant ("myth." ii. ) says that noah was represented as thoth, hermes, menes, osiris, zeuth, atlas, phoroneus, and prometheus, &c. &c. "there are none wherein his history is delineated more plainly, than in those of saturn and janus." these i will now omit, as we have just seen them to be identical--and so too bacchus, who equally with them plants the vine, teaches them to sow, and gives them laws. _phoroneus_, "an ancient poet quoted by clemens alex. (i. ) calls him the first of mortals, [greek: phyroneus patêr thnêtôn anthrôpôn]." the first deluge took place under phoroneus: "he was also the first who _built_ an altar. he first collected men together and formed them into petty communities."--pausanias, lib. , . he first gave laws and distributed justice.--syncellus, , . they ascribed to him the distribution of mankind, "idem nationes distribuit" (hyginus' fab. ), "which is a circumstance very remarkable." _poseidon's_ epithets connected with the ark are very striking (bryant, ii. , _deucalion, vide ante_, p. ); but he is also said (apollon. rhod. lib. , v. ) to have been "the first man through whom religious rites were renewed, cities built, and civil polity established in the world." _cecrops_ (_vide ante_, p. ), the identical terms are used. _myrmidon_, "a person of great justice." "he is said to have collected people together, humanised mankind, enacted laws, and first established civil polity."--scholia in pindar, ode , v. . _cadmus, vide ante_, p. . _pelasgus_ also is described as equally a benefactor to mankind, and instructed them in many arts.--pausanias, , . he is said to have built the first temple to the deity "ædem jovi olympis primum fecit pelasgus."--hyginus' fab. , . bryant says, "i have taken notice that as noah was said to have been [greek: hanthrôpos gês]," a man of the earth--this characteristic is observable in every history of the primitive persons; and they are represented as '[greek: nomioi],' '[greek: agrioi]', and '[greek: gêgeneis].' pelasgus accordingly had this title (Æschy. "supplicants," v. ), and it is particularly mentioned of him that he _was the first_ husbandman. pelasgus first found out all that is necessary for the cultivation of the ground."--schol. in eurip. "orestes," v. . _osiris._--the account of osiris in diodorus siculus is exactly similar. he travels into all countries like bacchus. he builds cities; and although represented as at the head of an army, is described with the muses and sciences in his retinue. in every region he instructed the people in planting, sowing, and other useful acts.--tibullus, i. e. , v. . he particularly introduced the vine, and when that was not adapted to the soil, the use of ferment and wine of barley. he first built temples, and was a lawgiver and king (diod. sic.).--bryant, ii. . _chin-nong_ (_vide_ also bunsen, _supra_, p. ) "was a husbandman, and taught the chinese agriculture, &c., discovered the virtues of many plants. he was represented with the _head of an ox_, and sometimes only with two horns."--comp. bryant, iii. . _manco capac._--peru, _vide infra_, ch. xiii.; very curious. strabo, , , says of the turditani in spain (iberia), "they are well acquainted with grammar, and have many written records of high antiquity. they have also large collections of poetry (comp. ch. vii.), and _even their laws_ are described in verse, which they say is of six thousand years standing." _deucalion_, according to lucian, was saved from the deluge on account of his wisdom and piety--"[greek: eubouliês te kai euebiês heineka]." [[greek: euboulia]--literally, "good counsel."] _mercury_ gave egypt its laws--"atque egyptiis leges et literas tradidisse."--cicero, "de natura deorum," iii. . _apollo._--cicero says the fourth apollo gave laws to the _arcadians_ (comp. _infra_, p. ): "quem arcades [greek: nomion] appellant, quod ab eo se leges ferunt accepisse," id. iii. ; _vide_ also plato, "leges," i. . chapter xi. _diluvian traditions in africa and america._ boulanger ( - ), a freethinker, and the friend and correspondent of voltaire, was so dominated by his belief in the universal deluge as a fact, that he made its consequences the foundation of all his theories. writing in the midst of a scepticism very much resembling that of the present day, he says, "what! you believe in the deluge?" such will be the exclamation of a certain school of opinion, and this school a very large one. nevertheless, this profound writer, by the exigencies of his theory, was irresistibly brought to the recognition of the fact. "we must take," he continues, "a fact in the traditions of mankind, the truth of which shall be universally recognised. what is it? i do not see any, of which the evidence is more generally attested, than those which have transmitted to us that famous physical revolution which, they tell us, has altered the face of our globe, and which has occasioned a total renovation of human society: in a word, the deluge appears to me the true starting-point (_la veritable epoque_) in the history of nations. not only is the tradition which has transmitted this fact the most ancient of all, but it is moreover clear and intelligible; it presents a fact which can be justified and confirmed." he proceeds, and the drift and animus of the writer will be sufficiently apparent in the passage--"it is then by the deluge that the history of the existing nations and societies has commenced. if there have been false and pernicious religions in the world it is to the deluge that i trace them back as to their source; if doctrines inimical to society have been broached, i see their principles in the consequences of the deluge; if there have existed vicious legislations and innumerable bad governments, it will be upon the deluge that i lay the charge." it is, then, only in attestation of the fact that i adduce this author; and in his proof he has accumulated a large mass of indirect evidence, which a certain school of opinion find it convenient altogether to ignore in reference to this subject. in this class are the various institutions among different nations to preserve the memory of the deluge, as for instance, the "hydrophories ou la fête du deluge à athenes," and at Ægina, the feast of the goddess of syria at hierapolis, both having strange resemblances with the jewish feasts of "nisue ha mâim, or the effusion of waters," and the tabernacles, in their traditional aspects, _i.e._ in their observances _not_ commanded by moses; the "effusion des eaux a ithome ... et de siloe;" the feast of the deluge (of inachus) at argos; a feast, the effusion of water, in persia, anterior to its mahometanism; similar festivals in pegu, china, and japan; in the mysteries of eleusis; in the "peloria," "anthisteria," and "_saturnalia_;" and finally in the pilgrimages to rivers in india[ ] and other parts of the world; "of the multitude of traditions preserved in the diluvian festivals and commemorative usages of the gulphs, apertures, and abysses which have at one time or another vomited forth or absorbed waters" (i. ); again, the pilgrimages to the summits of mountains in india, china, tartary, the caucasus,[ ] peru, &c. "it is easy to see," he adds (p. ), "that this veneration is based upon a corrupted tradition, which has taught these people that their fathers formerly took refuge on the top of this mountain at the time of the deluge, and subsequently descended from it to inhabit the plains." [ ] dionysius periegesis says the women of the british amnitæ celebrated the rites of dionysos:-- "as the bistonians on apsinthus banks shout to the clamorous eiraphiates; or as the indians on dark-rolling ganges hold revels to dionysos the noisy, so do the british women shout evoë." (v. .) (_qy_. enoë.) _vide_ "the bhilsa topes," by major a. cunningham, p. . [ ] i would specially draw attention to the instances of temples constructed upon the model of ships, concerning which _vide_ bryant's "mythology," ii. , , , ; and compare with plate xviii. in montfauçon, ii. i shall have occasion to refer again more in detail to some of these customs[ ] when drawing attention to the resemblances which i shall presently point out; but i wish previously to give, more _in extenso_, his description of the hydrophoria at athens:-- "this name denoted the custom which the athenians had on the day of this feast of carrying water in ewers and vases with great ceremony; in memory of the deluge, they proceeded each year to pour this water into an opening or gulf, which was found near the temple of jupiter olympus, and on this occasion they recalled the sad memory of their ancestors having been submerged. this ceremony is simple and very suitable to its subject; it was well calculated to perpetuate the memory of the catastrophe caused by the waters of the deluge. superstition added some other customs.... they threw into the same gulf cakes of corn and honey; it was an offering to appease the infernal deities.... the greeks placed it in the rank of their unlucky days (also 'un jour triste et lugubre'); and thus they remarked that sylla had taken their city of athens the very day that they had made this commemoration of the deluge. superstition observes everything, not to correct itself, but to confirm itself more and more in its errors. it was, according to the fable, by the opening of this gulf that the waters which had covered attica had disappeared; it was also said that deucalion had raised near to this place an altar which he had dedicated to jove the preserver. 'tradition also attributed to deucalion the temple of jupiter olympus,' in which these mournful ceremonies were performed. 'this temple was celebrated and respected by the pagan nations as far as we can trace history back.' it was reconstructed on a scale of magnificence by pisistratus; every town and prince in greece contributed to its adornment; it was completed by the emperor adrian in of our era. the antiquity of this monument, the respect which all nations have shown it, and the character of the traditions which they have of its origin, ought to establish for the festival of the hydrophoria a great antiquity. the feasts, in general, are more ancient than the temples."--_boulanger_, i. - . [ ] compare bryant. i will now ask the reader, if he has not read (and seen the illustrations in) mr catlin's "o-kee-pa,"[ ] to compare the following extract with the preceding:-- "the o-kee-pa, an annual ceremony to the strict observance of which those ignorant and superstitious people attributed not only their enjoyment in life but their very existence; for traditions, their only history, instructed them in the belief that the singular forms of this ceremony produced the buffaloes for their supply of food, and that the omission of this annual ceremony, _with its sacrifices to the waters_, would bring upon them a repetition of _the calamity_ which their traditions say once befell them, destroying _the whole human race_ excepting one man, who landed from his canoe on a high mountain in the west.[ ] this tradition, however, was not peculiar to the mandan tribe, for among one hundred and twenty different tribes that i have visited in north, south, and central america, not a tribe exists that has not related to me distinct or vague traditions of such a calamity in which one or three or _eight_ persons were saved above the waters on the top of a high mountain. some of them, at the base of the rocky mountains, and in the plains of venezuela and the pampa del sacramento in south america, _make annual pilgrimages_ to the _fancied summits_ where the antediluvian species were saved in canoes or otherwise, and under the mysterious regulations of their medicine (mystery) men tender their prayers and sacrifices to the great spirit to ensure their exemption from a similar catastrophe."--p. . [ ] "o-kee-pa, a religious ceremony, and other customs of the mandans," trübner & co. london, . mr catlin's statements are attested by the certificates of three educated and intelligent men who witnessed the ceremonies with him, and is further corroborated by a letter addressed to mr catlin by prince maximilian of neuwied, the celebrated traveller among the north american indians, who had previously referred to them (he spent a winter among the mandans). [ ] i read in the _times_, march , , that "the american papers state that workmen in iowa, excavating for the projected dubuque and minnesota railroad, in the limestone at the foot of a bluff, discovered recently _some caves and rock chambers_, and, on raising a foot slab, a vault filled with human skeletons of unusual size, the largest being seven feet eight inches high. a figured sun on the walls is taken as indicating that the skeletons belonged to a people who worshipped that luminary [compare _supra_, p. ] _and the representation of a man with a dove stepping out of a boat_, as an allusion to a tradition of the deluge. the fingers of the largest skeleton clasped a pearl ornament, and traces of cloth were found crumbled at the feet of the remains. many copper implements were found, and it is thought that the lake superior mines may have been worked at an early period. the remains were to be removed to the iowa institute of arts and sciences at dubuque." yet, strange to say, this is _no_ proof to mr catlin of the universal deluge recorded in scripture. "if," he says, "it were shown that inspired history of the deluge and of the creation restricted those events to one continent alone, then it might be that the american races came from the eastern continent, bringing these traditions with them, for until that is proved, the american traditions of the deluge are no evidence whatever of an eastern origin. if it were so, and the aborigines of america brought their traditions of the deluge from the east, why did they not bring inspired history of the creation?"[ ]--p. . (_vide_ pp. , .) [ ] compare account of mandan tradition of the creation, from "hist. des ceremonies religieuses," _supra_, p. . the "o-kee-pa," mr catlin says, "was a strictly religious ceremony, ... with the solemnity of religious worship, with abstinence, with sacrifices, with prayer; whilst there were three other distinct and ostensible objects for which it was held,-- . as an annual celebration of the '_subsiding of the waters_' of the deluge. . for the purpose of dancing what they call the bull-dance, to the strict performance of which they attributed the coming of buffaloes. . for purpose of conducting the young men through _an ordeal of privation and bodily torture_, which, while it was supposed to harden their muscles and prepare them for extreme endurance, enabled their chiefs ... to decide upon their comparative bodily strength, endurance," &c.--p. . the torture no doubt subserved this subsidiary purpose, but it appears to me that the original intention and idea was torture for the purpose of expiation, as in the ceremonies in ancient greece.[ ] sundry incidents narrated by catlin seem to establish this. they prepare themselves by fasting (p. ); after having sunk under the infliction of these horrible tortures (and from every point of view they are truly horrible), "no one was allowed to offer them aid when they lay in this condition. they were here enjoying their inestimable privilege of voluntarily intrusting their lives to the keeping of the great spirit, and chose to remain there until the great spirit gave them strength to get up and walk away" (p. ); and when so far recovered, "in each instance" they presented the little finger of the left hand, and some also the forefinger of the same hand and the little finger of the right hand (all tending to make them _pro tanto_ inefficient warriors) "as an offering to the great spirit, as a sacrifice for having listened to their prayers, and protected their lives in what they had just gone through" (p. ). [ ] _supra_, p. . these tortures have their exact counterpart in india, _e.g._ the ceremony of the _pota_ (compare sanscrit, "pota" = boat), thus described by hunter ("rural bengal," , p. ):--"pota (hook-swinging), now stopped by government, but still practised ( ) among the northern santals [who have the distinct tradition of the deluge and dispersion referred to, _supra_] in _april or may_. lasted about one month. young men used to swing with hooks through their back [as seen in catlin's illustrations], as in the charak puja of the hindus. the swingers used _to fast_ the day preceding and the day following the operation, and to sleep the intermediate night on thorns." "on pleuroit et l'on s'attristoit dans les fêtes _les plus gayes et plus dissolues_; les cultes d'isis et d'osiris, ainsi que ceux _de bacchus_, de céres, d'adonis, d'atys, &c., étoient _accompagnés de macérations et de larmes_."--_boulanger_, iii. . for the description of the _bull_-dance,[ ] and for the subsequent history and final extinction of the mandans, i must refer my readers to mr catlin's valuable testimony to the truth of scripture, and important contributions to ethnological science. [ ] bryant ("myth." ii. ) says, "there were many arkite" (_i.e._ commemorative of ark) "ceremonies in different parts of the world, which were generally styled _taurica_ sacra" (from taurus = _bull_). these mysteries were of old attended with acts of _great cruelty_. of these "i have given instances, taken from different parts of the world; from egypt, syria, cyprus, crete, and sicily." i shall now proceed to show analogies in what will be admitted to be most unlikely ground--in the king of dahome's celebrated "so-sin customs," described by captain richard burton. before, however, proceeding further, i must point out the following features in the ceremonies or customs as common to grecian and antique pagan; to the mandan (indian of north america), and to the tropical african.[ ] in the first place they are cyclical; they are all of a mournful character; all are interrupted at intervals by processions, dances, and songs of a traditional character; they all close in scenes of rejoicing or rather in bacchanalian (yet still traditionally [_vide_ page , note boulanger] bacchanalian) scenes of riot and debauchery. the duration of the festivals varies from three and four to five days; the days have fantastic names, which, although different, still in their very peculiarity, and also in the drift and meaning of the names so far as it can be gathered, are suggestive of a common origin, _e.g_. the first day of the anthesteria, at athens was called "[greek: pithoigia, apo tou pithous oigein]," "because they tapped their casks." the fourth day of the king of dahome's customs is named "so (horse) nan-wen (will break) _kan_ (rope) 'gbe (to-day)."--burton, ii. . one part of the mandan ceremony is called "mee-ne-ro-ka-ha-sha," or "the _settling down of the waters_," which name again closely corresponds to the ceremonies at athens and at hierapolis in syria (_ante_), where water was poured into the opening where the waters of the deluge were supposed to have disappeared. the fifth day of the dahome customs is named "minai afunfun khi uhun-jro men dadda gezo"="we go to the small mat tent under which the king sits."--burton, ii. . this approximates to the scene described by catlin (p. ) at the close of the bull-dance (fourth day), when "the master of ceremonies (corresponding to the king at dahome) cried out for all the dancers, musicians," and "the representatives of _animals_ and _birds_," "to gather again around him." he is described as coming out of the mystery lodge and collecting them round "the big canoe." [ ] let the following points of resemblance be noted also in the "panathenæa." the lesser, and it is supposed the annual festival, was celebrated on the th of thargelion, corresponding to the th may (compare catlin). every citizen contributed olive branches and an ox (_vide_ catlin) at the greater festival. "in the ceremonies without the city there was an engine built _in the form of a ship_, on purpose for this solemnity;" upon this the sacred garment of minerva "was hung in the manner of a _sail_," "the whole conveyed to the temple of _ceres elusinia_." "this procession was led by _old men_, together, as some say, with old women carrying _olive branches_ in their hands." "after them came the men of full age with shields and spears, being attended by the [greek: metoikoi], or sojourners, who carried _little boats_ as a token of their being foreigners, and were called on that account _boat-bearers_; then followed the women attended by the sojourner's wives, who were named [greek: hydriaphoroi], from _bearing water pots_."--compare burton, catlin. then followed select virgins, covered with millet, "called _basket-bearers_," the baskets containing necessaries for the celebration. "these virgins were attended by the sojourner's daughters, who carried _umbrellas_ (_vide_ pongol festival, appendix), _little seats_, whence they were called _seat-carriers_."--compare burton (_vide_ potter's "antiquities," i. .) compare also the following in the "dionysia" or festivals in honour of bacchus (_ante_, p. ) with catlin. "they carried thyrsi, _drums_, pipes, flutes, and _rattles_, and crowned themselves with garlands of _trees_ sacred to bacchus, ivy, vine, &c. some imitated silenus, pan, and the satyrs, exposing themselves in _comical dresses_ and antic motions;" and in this manner ran about the hills "invoking bacchus." "at athens this frantic rout was followed by persons carrying certain sacred vessels, the first of which was _filled with water_." bryant ("mythology," ii. ) speaking of egypt ("the priests of ammon who at _particular seasons_ used to carry in procession a boat," concerning which refer to page ), says--"part of the ceremony in most of the ancient mysteries consisted in carrying about a kind of ship or boat, which custom upon due examination will be found to relate to nothing else but noah and the deluge." he adds that the name of "the navicular shrines was _baris_, which is very remarkable; for it is the very name of the mountain, according to nicolaus damascenus, on which the ark of noah rested, the same as ararat in armenia." herodotus speaks of "_baris_" as the egyptian name of a ship, l. , ; eurip. "iphig. in aulis," v. ; Æschylus, persæ, ; lycophron, v. , refer to names of ships in connection with noah. _sup._, p. . query--is our word barge a corruption of baris? or perhaps of _baris_ in connection with "_argus_," also a term for the ark. (with reference to this etymology _vide_ my remark, p. , and d'anselme, p. , and bryant, ii. .) but the closest connection is in the nature and order of the ceremonies on the fourth day at dahome and among the mandans. among the latter, interrupting the bull-dance on that day, there is an apparition of "the evil spirit,"[ ] graphically described by mr catlin (p. ), and at dahome (burton, ii. ), there intervenes between the fourth and fifth days' ceremonies what is called "the evil night" (there are two "evil nights") which is the night of the horrible massacre. but on this night also, at the close of the fourth day's ceremonies among the mandans, the infliction of tortures (very horrible, but mild in comparison with the african butchery) commence. now, i have already ventured the opinion that these tortures were originally of an expiatory character, and this gains confirmation by the assurance made to captain r. burton that the victims on "the evil night" were only "criminals" and prisoners of war, the people of dahome, on all occasions (_vide infra_), preferring a vicarious mode of expiation. captain r. burton (ii. ) says of these massacres:--"the king takes no pleasure in the tortures and death or in the sight of blood, as will presently appear. the killed in one day, _the canoe_[ ] paddled in a pool of gore, and other grisly nursery tales, must be derived from whydah, where the slave-traders invented them, probably to deter englishmen from visiting the king. it is useless to go over the ground of human sacrifice from the days of the wild hindu's naramadha to the burnings of the druids, and to the awful massacres of peru and mexico. in europe the extinction of the custom _began_ from the time of the polite augustus," _i.e._ commenced with the advent of our lord. [_vide_ a reference to ms. of sir j. acton in mr gladstone's address to the university of edinburgh, , from which it would appear that the final extinction was not until the triumph of christianity.] [ ] compare the "bhain-sasur" or _buffalo_-demon at usayagiri, carrying a trident. _vide_ "the bhilsa tope," major alex. cunningham, . [ ] it is as well to note, however, that the dahomans have recently altered their customs. the one captain burton witnessed (ii. ) was a "mixed custom," and elsewhere allusion is made to "the new" ceremony. without carrying rashness to the excess of disputing the interpretation of dahoman words with captain burton, i may yet demur to accepting his explanation of the term "so-sin" (the "so-sin customs") _absolute et simpliciter_. he says (i. ), "the sogan ('so' = horse, 'gan' captain) opens the customs by taking all the chargers from their owners and by tying them up, whence the word _so-sin_. the animals must be redeemed in a few days with a bag of cowries."[ ] this is certainly a very likely definition, and although secondary, is no doubt the explanation current among the present generation of dahomans. all i shall venture to do is to supplement it. but may not the old and primitive idea still lurk in the name? at i. , i perceive captain burton says "so" and "sin" mean _water_,[ ] and the compound word "amma-sin" means "medicine" = "leaf-water," and again at the same word "sin" is twice used to signify liquid. if so, in the very name of the feast we find the word _water_, which links it into connection with "the mandan custom" and the festivals of ancient greece. [ ] analogies may perhaps be discovered in the representations of the procession escorting a relic casket on the architraves of the western gate at sanchi. (_vide_ "the bhilsa tope," by major alex. cunningham, p. .) "street of a city on the left, houses on each side filled with spectators,... a few horsemen heading a procession, ... immediately outside the gate are four persons bearing either trophies or some peculiar instruments of office. then follows a _led horse_, ... a soldier with a bell-shaped shield, two fifers, three _drummers_, and two men blowing _conches_. next comes the king on an elephant, carrying the holy relic casket on his head and supporting it with his right hand. then follows two peculiarly dressed men on horseback, perhaps prisoners. they wear a kind of cap (now only known in barmawar, on the upper course of the ravi) and boots or leggings. the procession is closed by two horsemen (one either the minister or a member of the royal family) and by an elephant with two riders." it may have had connection with the _as_warnedha or horse sacrifice (cunningham, p. .) boulanger (i. ) says, "that after the winter solstice the ancient inhabitants of india descended with their king to the banks of the indus; they there sacrificed _horses_ and _black bulls_, signs of a funeral ceremony; they then threw a bushel measure into the water without their assigning any reason for it." compare the throwing the cakes into the gulf at athens, and the hatchets into the water at the mandan custom. could it be that at the dahoman ceremony the horses were redeemed because the wretched victims were substituted, carrying out the idea of vicarious sacrifice and expiation? sir john lubbock ("origin of civilization," p. ) says, speaking of _water_ worship, "the kelpie or spirit of the _waters assumed_ various forms, those of a man, woman, _horse_, or _bull_ being the most common." compare _supra_, pp. , , , manou, bacchus. homer (hom. il., heynii, xxi. , lord derby, ), says-- "shall aught avail ye, though to him (the river scamander) in sacrifice, the blood of countless _bulls_ you pay, and living _horses_ in his waters sink;" and ( ) asteropoeus is called "river-born," because the son of pelegon, who "to broadly flowing axius owed his birth." remembering the belief of certain tribes of indians (supra, p. ) that they were "created under the water," which i have construed to mean, that they were created on the other side of the deluge, so we may take in a similar sense the traditions of these homeric heroes that they were "river-born;" and does the expression, son of pelegon (compare "son of prometheus," _supra_, p. ), imply more than that he was the descendant of phaleg, or, if not in the line of descent, the descendant of progenitors who had retained the tradition that phaleg was so called, "because in his days the earth was divided"?--gen. ch. x. . compare ancient welsh ballad (davies' "mythology of british druids," p. )-- "truly i was in the ship with dylan (deucalion), son of the sea.... when ... the floods came forth from heaven to the great deep." [ ] the name for _river_ in the chitral or little kashghar vocabulary (vigne, "travels in kashmir") is river = _sin_; also in the dangon, on the indus, voc. (_id._) river = _sin_; in the affghan (kalproth) the sea = _sin_d. _sind_hu is the sanscrit name for river (max müller, "science of lang.," st series, ); and has also its equivalent in ancient persian. in danish, river or lake = _so_; in icelandic, sjor (sjo); in bultistan, touh; german, see; english, sea; in kashmir, sar = marse; icelandic, saus. compare rivers saar, soane, seine, irish suir; perhaps also esk and usk (vigne, "trav. in kashmir"). horse = shtah, in bultistan. has not _so_ analogy with eau, augr (chittral), _water_? _sara_ = water in sanscrit (max müller, "chips," ii. ); sanscrit, vari, more generic term for water; latin, mare; gothic, marie; slavonic, more; irish and scotch, muir (_id._) compare chinese "ma" = horse; mongol, "mon" = horse; german, machre; english, _mare_. conclusion, either there is the same word for horse and water in certain languages, which may have occurred in the way of secondary derivation from these "mysteries," or if _so_ means water, then "so-sin" may only be a reduplication, as in the names of some of our rivers--_e.g._ dwfr-dwy = water, of deva = dee-river (_archæol. journal_, xvii. ). bryant ("myth." ii. ) says "the [greek: hippos], hippus (horse), alluded to in the early mythology was certainly a _float_ or _ship_, the same as the ceto." there is, moreover, the analogy in the latin of _aqua_ and _equus_. another sanscrit word for water, "ap" (max müller, sc. of l., ) has analogy with the greek [greek: hippos] = horse. it appears (sc. of l., nd series, p. ), that the tahitians have substituted the word "pape" for "vai" = water; but both words "pape," to _ap_, "vai," to _vari_, seem to have analogies to sanscrit as above. plato ("cratylus," c. , sc. of l., st series, p. ) mentions that the name for water was the same in phrygian and greek. at p. , st series, mr max müller says that persian harôya is the same as sanscrit saroya; which latter "is derived from a root 'sar' or 'sri,' to go, to run; from which 'saras,' water, 'sarit,' river, and 'sarayu,' the proper name of the river near oude." here at any rate in the sanskrit "sar," to run, we may, if the above conjecture is rejected, start the words "horse" and "water" from a common root. the word, "so" = horse, will therefore still remain, and may perhaps stand in the same relation to the "water" celebration, that the "bull" does to the mandan celebration of the deluge. captain burton, for instance, tells us (ii. ), a "so" was brought up to us (on the fourth day of the so-sin custom, and on the fourth day of the mandan custom "the bull-dance" was performed sixteen times round "the big canoe"); but i will place the two descriptions side by side. captain burton, ii. . "a 'so' was brought up to us, a _bull-face mask_ of natural size, painted black, with glaring eyes and _peep-holes_, the horns were hung with _red_ and _white_ rag _strips_, and beneath was a dress of bamboo fibre covering the feet, and ruddy at the ends. it danced with head on one side and swayed itself about, to the great amusement of the people." _vide_ also p. , "four tall men singularly dressed, and with bullocks' tails," &c. mr catlin, p. . "the chief actors in these strange scenes (bull-dance) were eight men, with the entire skins of buffaloes thrown over them, enabling them closely to imitate the appearance and motions of those animals, as the bodies were kept in as horizontal a position, the horns and tails of the animals remaining on the skins, and the skins of the animals' heads served as _masks_ through the eyes of which the _dancers were looking_." the legs of the dancers were painted _red_ and _white_" (plate .) if we might (on the strength of so many words of primary necessity being in common) connect "so" = horse, with the saxon "soc" or plough (as in the soc and service tenure), we could then see a way in which the same word might apply indifferently to ox or horse; and we would, moreover, see through the common relation to noah how the water ceremony came to be associated with the worship of ceres in the mysteries of eleusis. _vide_ boulanger, i. - .[ ] [ ] compare (klaproth, "mem. asiat." ii. )--eng. _ox_; mongol, char; hebrew, chor; french, charrue (plough.) klaproth, ii. , "les cheveux en thou khin (whom he identifies with the turks) portaient le nom de _sogo_ ou _so_ko; cest le même nom que le turc sâtch ou sadg." can it have affinity with chinese _sa_ (chinese szu = boeuf sauvage); german, säen; swedish, _sá_; french, semer; english = to _sou_; peruvian, sara = maize; also french, _cou_dre, to sow with english corn; sanscrit, go; high german, chus; sclavonic, _go_ws (max müller, "chips," ii. ); and kashmir and dongan, gau; icelandic, ku? in affghan a bull = _sak_hendar and _souk_handar. in the extinct tartar coman (_vide_ klaproth) ox = _ogus_ or _seger_ = turkish, okus; sanscrit, oukcha; german, ochse. plough = sanscrit, sinam; irish, serak; persian, siar. horse = _as_p, persian; _ess_, sclavonic = english _ass_; and in chittral on indus (_vide_ horse or bull used in ceremonies on banks of indus, _infra_) horse = _astor_. (has not _tor_ here affinity with _taur_eau.) corn = _as_lek (kirghish) and ashlyk (?) turkish. max müller (science of language, p. ), says--"aspa was the persian name for horse, and in the scythian names, aspabota, aspakara, and asparatha, we can hardly fail to recognise the same element." also, p. , "the comparison of ploughing and sowing is of frequent occurrence in ancient language." eng., plough; sclav., ploug = sanscrit, plava, ship = gk. [greek: ploion], ship. "in english dialects, plough is used as a waggon or conveyance. in the vale of blackmore, a waggon is called a plough, or plow, and _zull_ (a.-s., syl) is used for aratrum."--barnes, "dorset dialect," p. , ap. max müller. the above enumeration does not exhaust the points of resemblance. compare the following:-- burton, ii. . "conspicuous objects on the left of the pavilion were two ajalela or fetish pots made by the present king (according to the customs.) _vide_ note . both are lamp black, shaped like amphoræ (amphoræ, for holding wine) about feet high, and planted on tripods. the larger was solid, the smaller callendered with many small holes, and both were decorated with brass and silver crescents, stars, and similar ornaments. the second, when filled _with water and medicine_ allows none to escape, so great is its fetish power; an army guarded by it can never be defeated, and it will lead the way to absokuta." compare pongol ceremony, p. . catlin, p. . "in an open area in the centre of the village stands the ark or 'big canoe,' around which a great proportion of the ceremonies were performed. this rude symbol, of or feet in height, was constructed of planks and hoops, having somewhat the appearance of a large hogshead standing on its end, and containing some mysterious things, which none but the _medicine_ (mystery) men were allowed to examine." this must be considered in connection with the following. burton. in the opening procession of the third day's customs, captain burton tells us (ii. ), "first came a procession of eighteen tansi-no or fetish women, who have charge of the last monarch's grave.... they were preceded by bundles of matting, eight _large stools_, calabashes, pipes, _baskets_ of _water_, grog, and meat with segments of _gourd_ above and below, tobacco bags, and other commissariat articles; and they were followed by a band of horns and _rattles_."[ ] [ ] compare the procession in the panathenæa and dionysia, _supra_, p. . in another procession (ii. ), "the party was brought up by slave girls carrying baskets and calabashes. (query, of water?) these, preceded by six bellowing horns, stalked in slowly, and with measured gait the _eight_ tansi-no, who serve and pray for the ghosts of dead kings. (query, eight dead kings?) in front went _their_ ensign, a copper measuring rod feet long and tapering to a very fine end; behind it were two chauris and seven mysterious pots and calabashes wrapped in _white_ and _red_ checks," and presently "three brass, four copper, and six iron pots, curiosities on account of their great size.... _eight_ images, of which three were apparently _ship's figureheads_ whitewashed, and the rest very hideous efforts of native art."[ ] [ ] "eight men representing eight buffalo bulls," in mandan celebration, "took their positions on the four sides of the ark or 'big canoe.'"--catlin, p. . "the _chief actors_ in these strange scenes were _eight_ men with skins of buffaloes," &c. p. . four images were suspended on poles above the mystery lodge, p. . catlin. in captain burton's account of the articles paraded in the procession, the pipes (to which great mystery is attached), the _horns_ and _rattles (vide pl.)_, and _the baskets of water_ are common to the mandan ceremony. may not the eight stools be representative of the eight diluvian survivors. _vide supra_, , cabiri? let us, however, confine our attention to the "baskets of water." compare with the following account in catlin. "in the medicine (mystery) lodge ... there were also four articles of _veneration_ and importance lying on the ground, which were _sacks_ containing each some three or four gallons of _water_. these seemed to be objects of great superstitious regard, and had been made with much labour and ingenuity, being constructed of the skins of the _buffaloes'_ neck, and sewed together in the forms of large _tortoises_ lying on their backs (comp. p. ; also p. ), each having a sort of tail made of _raven's_ quills and a stick like a drumstick lying on it, with which, as will be seen in a subsequent part of the ceremony, the musicians beat upon the _sacks_ as instruments of music for their _strange dances_. by the sides of these sacks, which they called ech-tee-ka (drums), there were two other articles of equal importance which they called ech-na-da (rattles) made of undressed skins shaped into the form of _gourd_ shells," &c. (note the segments of _gourd_ accompanying the _water_ baskets in the dahome procession, _supra_.) catlin adds--"the sacks of water had the appearance of great antiquity, and the mandans pretended that the water had been contained in them ever since the deluge."--pp. , .[ ] [ ] in the _japanese_ (_vide_ p. ) version of the legend of the _bull_ breaking the mundane egg (_vide_ p. ), a _gourd_ or pumpkin is also broken which contained the first man.--_vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. . "i have mentioned that _the ark_ was looked upon as the mother of mankind, and styled da-mater, and it was on this account figured under the semblance of a _pomegranate_," "as it abounds with seed"--bryant, ii. . _vide_ also plate (bryant, ii. ), where juno (_vide_, p. ) holds a _dove_ in one hand and a _pomegranate_ in the other. burton, ii. . it must be remembered that at dahome, royalty as there represented has absorbed and monopolized the most important parts of the ceremonial: it is natural, therefore, to expect that the conspicuous figures in the original (or in the mandan), which conflicted or would not consort with royalty, would be thrown into the background. accordingly i am only able to get a glimpse of the conspicuous figures opposite in the following passage:--"the jesters were followed by a dozen _pursuivants_ armed with gong-gongs, who advanced bending towards the throne, and shouted the 'strong names' or titles. conspicuous amongst them was an _oldster_ in a crimson sleeveless tunic and yellow shorts: his head was red with dust, he carried a large _bill-hook_,[ ] and he went about attended by _four_ drums and one cymbal." [ ] compare also _sup._, p. , with saturn. "ipsius autem canities," &c., and "cum falce messis insigne." it will be remembered (if my readers have read mr catlin, p. , ) that the first thing "the aged white man" does on entering the mystery lodge is to call on the chiefs "to furnish him with _four_ men," and the next is to "receive at the door of every mandan's wigwam _some edged tool_ to be given to the water as a sacrifice, as it was with _such tools_ that the "big canoe" was built.[ ] [ ] compare again these two figures, one figuring in the dahoman procession, the other in the mandan bull dance. catlin, p. . the opening scene in the mandan customs, effectively described by mr catlin, begins with "a solitary human figure descending the prairie hills and approaching the village," "in appearance a very _aged_ man," "a centenarian white man," dressed in a robe of four white wolves' skins." he was met by the head chief and the council of chiefs, and addressed by them as "nu-mohk-muck-a-nah" (the _first_ and only man.) "he then harangued them for a few minutes, reminding them that every human being on the surface of the earth had been destroyed by the water excepting himself, who had landed on a high mountain in the west in his canoe, where he still resided, and from whence he had come to open the medicine (mystery) lodge, that the mandans might celebrate the _subsiding of the waters_, and make the proper sacrifices to the water, lest the same calamity should again happen to them." burton, ii. . "the ministers ... they were conducted by a 'lali' or half-head, with right side of his pericranium clean shaven, and the left in a casing of silver that looked like a cast or a half melon." * * * * * burton says (ii. ), "one of the dahoman monarch's peculiarities is that he is double, not merely binonymous, nor dual, like the spiritual mickado and temporal tycoon of japan, but two in one. gelele, for instance, is king of the city and addo-kpon of the 'bush'; _i.e._ of the farmer folk and the country as opposed to the city. this country ruler has his _official_ mother, the dank-li-ke.... thus dahome has two points of interest to the ethnologist--the distinct precedence of women and the double king."--_vide_ also p. . catlin, p. . compare with the two athletic young men (_vide_ plate xiii.) assigned to each of the young men who underwent the torture--"their bodies painted _one half red_ and the other blue, and carrying a bunch of willow-boughs in one hand." here two or three questions suggest themselves. if this ceremony is primitive, will not dual royalty give a clue to the duality we find so commonly in mythology, assuming the basis of mythology to be historical? d, is there no clue in the name, _official_ name, of dank-li-ke? what does the reader guess the meaning to be? (p. .) mr burton tells us it means, "dank (the rainbow), li (stand), and ke (the world)." is it a forced paraphrase to construe this to mean--the rainbow is the sign that the world shall stand? upon the point of the precedence of woman, to which the dahoman ceremony testifies, but to which it gives no clue, i shall, as it is so very important in more bearings than one, give at some length the following scene from catlin:-- "when 'the evil spirit' enters the camp during the ceremony, he proceeds to make various attacks, which are defeated by the intervention of the master of the ceremonies. in several attempts of this kind the evil spirit was thus defeated, after which he came wandering back amongst the dancers, apparently much fatigued and disappointed.... in this distressing dilemma he was approached by an old matron, who came up slyly behind him, with both hands full of yellow dirt, which (by reaching around him) she suddenly dashed in his face, covering him from head to foot, and changing his colour, as the dirt adhered to the undried bear's grease on his skin; ... at length _another_ snatched his _wand_ from his hand and broke it across her knee ... his power was thus gone ... bolting through the crowd, he made his way to the prairies."--p. . we shall not be surprised to learn, then, that when the "feast of the buffaloes" (distinct from the bull-dance) commences (p. ), several old men perambulated the village in various directions, in the character of criers, with rattles in their hands, proclaiming that "the _whole government of the mandans_ was then in the hands of one woman--she who had disarmed the evil spirit ... that the chiefs that night were old women; that they had nothing to say; that no one was allowed to be out of their wigwams excepting the favoured ones whom 'the governing woman' had invited," &c. will not this give a clue to the precedence in dahome, _probandis probatis_, and is not the precedence in dahome thus interpreted, and the interlude above described evidence of the tradition, that the _woman_ should break the head of the _serpent_? (gen. iii. ). it is of great significance, and, if so many points of comparison had not occurred, ought to have been stated at the outset, that at dahome "the sin-kwain ("sin," water--"kwain," sprinkling), or water-sprinkling custom follows closely upon the "so-sin or horse-tie rites."--_vide_ burton, ii. . now, if the reader will turn to boulanger, i. , , he will find this identical custom in persia, pegu, china, and japan. but i relinquish the details, as i fear i shall have exhausted the patience of the few readers i shall have carried with me to this point; and because the king of dahome has a custom perhaps still more demonstrably cognate to not only the ancient grecian ceremonies on the shores of the ocean and on the banks of rivers, but with widely diffused tradition. i shall here place four writers in juxtaposition, and with this testimony i shall conclude:-- boulanger. the ancient inhabitants of italy repaired once a year to the lake cutilia, where they made sacrifices and celebrated secret mysteries or ceremonies (dion. halicarnassus, i. ). the pontiffs in ancient rome also went annually to the banks of the tiber, "là ils faisoient des sacrifices _expiatoires_ à saturne, ce dieu chronique," &c. (dion. hal. i. .) in the kingdom of saka in africa their greatest solemnity was celebrated on the banks of the rivers; the king himself presides at it (hist. gener. des voy., iii. ). the same custom has been already (_supra_, p. ) noticed on the indus. in all these cases human sacrifices were offered, or substitutes.--boulanger, i. pp. - . compare _supra_, p. , lines from dionysius periegesis. burton. at whydat the youngest brother of their triad is hu, the ocean or sea. [compare with assyrian hoa, _supra_, p. , and chinese yu, p. .] "the hu-no, or ocean priest, is now considered the highest of all.... at times the king sends as an ocean sacrifice from agborne a man carried in a hammock, with the dress, the stool, and the umbrella of a caboceer; a canoe takes him out to sea, where he is thrown to the sharks. the custom for this element is made at whydat, in a place near the greater market, and called hu-kpa-man. it is a _round_ hut, with thatch and chalked walls: outside is a heap of bones, whilst _skulls_, carapaces of the _tortoise_, and similar materials, cumber the _interior_. the priest is a fetish woman, who _offers water_ and kola nuts to, and expects rum from, white visitors."--ii. p. . compare also _supra_, in preface, extract from davies' "celtic researches" on the celtic god hu. catlin. the water ceremonies in catlin's account have already been sufficiently adverted to. he thus describes the medicine or mystery lodge in which they took place. exteriorly, with the exception of the four images, it differed only in dimensions from the other wigwams, which are thus described? "they were covered with earth. they were all of one form; the frames or shells constructed of timbers, and covered with a thatching of willow boughs, and over and on that with a foot or two in thickness of a concrete of tough clay and gravel, which became so hard as to admit the whole group of inmates to recline on _their tops_. they varied in size from thirty to sixty feet, and _were perfectly round_." for extract describing _interior_, _vide supra_, p. , noting (_vide_ plate iii. in catlin) the four human and four ox _skulls_; "the sacks of water in the form of large _tortoises_ lying on their backs." _n.b._--with reference to the tortoise, _vide ante_ p. . compare the "buddhist topes" in major cunningham's "bhilsa tope," _vide_ p. . hunter. hunter ("annals of rural bengal," p. ) says of the santals: "the only stream of any consequence in their present country--the damouda--is regarded with a veneration altogether disproportionate to its size. thither the superstitious santal repairs to consult the prophets and diviners, and once a year the tribes make a pilgrimage to its banks in commemoration of their forefathers.... however remote the jungle in which the santal may die, his nearest kinsman carries a little relic of the deceased to the river, and places it in the current to be conveyed to the far-off eastern land from which his ancestors came." in connection with the above, it must be remembered (_vide_ appendix g, p. , "santal traditions") that they have, although confused with the creation, an unmistakable tradition of the deluge, the intoxication of noah, and the dispersion. if, then, i have shown that the custom, for the preservation of which from oblivion, so far as the mandans (now extinct) are concerned, we are indebted to mr catlin, and which so plainly tells its own tale, is common to europe, asia, and africa, as well as america, i shall have established it as a tradition, not of a local american, but of an universal deluge; and if the tradition of the universal deluge is proved, then, according to mr catlin's narrative itself, there is tradition of the creation also (_vide_ pp. , , ).[ ] [ ] i allude to the opening of the ceremony by the centenarian _white_ man, "the first and only man." mr catlin is of opinion that this incident was introduced and superadded by some missionaries, though he adds it would be still more strange if the (jesuit) missionaries had instructed them "in the other modes." this, however, is understating the case. it is conceivable that missionaries should have come among them, but in this case we should have expected some trace of christian practices and dogmas; it is difficult to conjecture what set of missionaries could have indoctrinated them with the recondite pagan mysteries of eleusis and hierapolis. i have replied more fully, in chap. vii., to mr catlin's objection--that though they have a tradition of a deluge, it is not the tradition of the deluge, because they have not also the tradition of the creation. mr catlin argues upon the view that the american race "were created upon the ground on which they were found" ("last rambles," p. , ); and (p. ) adds, "i can find nothing in history, sacred or profane, against this." he takes his stand (in "o-kee-pa") upon this--that there is nothing in the mandan tradition which can be brought in proof of their migration from another continent. in reply i shall adduce their very name. the american continent may have been peopled by way of behring's straits, or from europe in the east by way of greenland, or by the connection of the pacific islands from the opposite coasts of japan, china, and the corea, or from the polynesian groups in the south. the population may have poured in by all these routes. it is said (prescott, "conquest of mexico," ii. )[ ] that mss. exist at copenhagen proving that the american coast was visited by the northmen in the eleventh century. the polynesian route we may leave out of consideration, as it will not probably have been the one by which the mandans came. as to the route by behring's straits, mr catlin admits "it is a possibility, and therefore they say it is probable" (p. , "last rambles"). but if, as there appears to me reason to think, they came from the opposite coast of the corea, it might as reasonably be conjectured that the migration took the route of behring's straits, or by way of the sandwich islands. the possibility of the former is conceded. i will confine my attention, therefore, to the latter, which mr catlin pronounces absolutely impossible. in the first place, the distance between the sandwich islands and america is not greater than between otaheite and new zealand.[ ] now it is admitted that new zealand was peopled from otaheite. moreover (_vide_ sir j. lubbock, "pre-historic times," p. ), the inhabitants of the sandwich islands, at two thousand miles distance, belong to the same race as those of tahiti (otaheite) and new zealand, and resemble them "in religion, languages, canoes, houses, weapons, food, habits, &c."[ ] the canoes of the pacific islanders generally (_vide_ captain cook _passim_) were of considerable size, and of very perfect workmanship. but also prescott ("conquest of mexico," ii. , quoting beechey's "voyage to pacific," , p. appendix, humboldt's "examen. critique de l'hist. de la geog." and nuov. cont. ii. ) says, "it would be easy for the inhabitant of eastern tartary or japan to steer his canoe from islet to islet quite across to the american shore, without ever being on the ocean more than two days at a time."[ ] [ ] _vide_ also giebel, "tagesfragen," p. ; _apud_ reusch, p. . [ ] _vide_ "cook's voyages," i. ; prescott, ii. . [ ] "there have been recent instances of japanese vessels having been thrown by shipwreck upon the coasts of the sandwich islands, and even on the mouth of the columbia."--reusch, "la bible et la nature," p. . "since the north-west coast of america and the north-east of asia have been explored, little difficulty remains on this subject.... small boats can safely pass the narrow strait. ten degrees farther south, the _aleutian_ and fox islands form a continuous chain between kamschatka and the peninsula of alaska in such a manner as to leave the passage across a matter of no difficulty."--warburton's "conquest of canada," i. . ellis ("polynesian researches," ii. ) says: "there are also _many_ points of _resemblance_ in language, manners, and customs between the south sea islanders and the inhabitants of madagascar in the west; the inhabitants of the _aleutian_ and _kurile_ islands in the north, which stretch along the mouth of behring's straits, and forms the chain which connects the old and new worlds," &c. [ ] "the sandwich islands, with a population of , , are more than two thousand miles from the coast of south america. how did the population of those islands get there? certainly not in canoes over ocean waves of two thousand miles. but i am told 'the sandwich islanders are polynesians;' not a bit of it; they are two thousand miles north of the polynesian group, with the same impossibility of canoe navigation, and are as different in _physiological traits_ of character and _language_ from the polynesian, as they are different from the american races.--"last rambles" (catlin), p. . . captain king, "transactions on returning to sandwich islands," &c., continuation of cook's voyages, pinkerton (xi. ) says on the contrary: "the inhabitants of the sandwich islands are undoubtedly of the same race with those of new zealand, the society and friendly islands, easter islands, and the marquesas. this fact, which, extraordinary as it is, might be thought sufficiently proved by the _striking_ similarity of their _manners_ and _customs_, and the general resemblance of their _persons_ is established beyond all controversy by the _absolute identity_ of their language." shortland says that the new zealanders, "when speaking of any old practice, regarding the origin of which you may inquire, have the expression constantly in their mouths, 'e hara i te mea poka hou mai; no hawaika mai ano.'--it is not a modern invention; but a practice brought from hawaiki, sandwich islands)."--shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. . we may agree, then, that the mandans might have come by this route. is there anything which makes it probable that they came? well, yes; in the first place their name. mr catlin tells us ("o-kee-pa," p. ), "the mandans (nu-mak-ká-kee, _pheasants_, as they call themselves) have been known from the time of the first visits made to them, to the day of their destruction, as one of the most friendly and hospitable tribes on the united states frontier." it transpires, therefore, that they are called _pheasants_. is the pheasant a native of america?--on the other hand, is it not common on the opposite asiatic continent, and on the islands adjacent to it from new guinea to the corea? i have never heard of the pheasant in the american continent;[ ] but in reading the accounts of the missionaries of the corea (the only foreigners who have penetrated into the country), i read, "that clouds of _pheasants_ and birds of all kinds perch at night in the branches of the trees" ("life of henri dorie," translated by lady herbert; burns & oates, p. ); and if the reader will turn to p. in the same life, and will compare the description of the coreans, which he will find there, with the description and portraits of the mandans in mr catlin's "o-kee-pa," pp. , , he will, i think, recognise a sufficient resemblance to warrant and sustain the presumption created by their name.[ ] [ ] as far as i can ascertain, the pheasant is not a native of america. yarrell speaks of it as asiatic, and that it has been domesticated "in all parts of the _old_ continent." so also gould. of the american writers, _neither_ wilson, audubon, bonaparte, nuttall, richardson, or jameson include the pheasant. mr catlin, however, says, p. : "from the translation of their name, already mentioned (nu-mah-ká-kee, pheasants), an important inference may be drawn in support of the probability of their having formerly lived much farther to the south, as that bird does not exist on the prairies of the upper missouri, and is not to be met with short of the hoary forests of ohio and indiana, eighteen hundred miles south of the last residence of the mandans. in their familiar name of mandan, which is not an indian word, there are equally singular and important features. in the first place, that they knew nothing of the name or how they got it; and next, that the word mandan in the welsh language [mr c.'s theory is that they are the survivors of prince madoc's expedition from wales in the fourteenth century] means red dye, of which further mention will be made." on the legend of the welsh expedition, _vide_ warburton's "conquest of canada," ii., appendix iv. [ ] "the indians resemble the people of north-eastern asia in form and feature more than any other of the human race; their population is most dense along the districts nearest to asia; and among the mexicans, whose records of the past deserve credence, there is a constant tradition that their aztec and toltec chiefs came from the north-west."--warburton's "conquest of canada," i. . brace ("manual of ethnology," p. ) says, after noting that whereas the prominence in the head "is anterior in the chinese rather than lateral, as in the american indians and the tangusic tribes," adds, "the peculiar distinguishing characteristics are the smallness of the eyes and the obliquity of the eyelids. the nose is usually small and depressed, though sometimes, in favourable physical conditions, natives are found with a slightly aquiline nose, _giving the face a close resemblance to that of the american indians or new zealanders_." refer to argument at p. , with reference to the mozca indians. to the peculiarity of name, and resemblance of feature, i shall now proceed to add the evidence of some traces of their peculiar customs, or at least of some trace of the tradition out of which they arose. i am not at present in possession of evidence to show this in the corea itself (almost totally unknown and unexplored), but in the island of formosa the same mode of burial is observed, only that among the formosans other customs are added, which remind one of the commemorative customs of the mandans. catlin, p. . "their (mandan) dead, partially embalmed, are tightly wrapped in buffalo hides softened with glue and water, and placed on slight scaffolds, above the reach of animals or human hands, each body having its separate scaffold." the mandan dance was round "_the big canoe_," and a part of their ceremony on the roof of their wigwams. among the opischeschaht _indians_ (_vide field_, oct. , ) there was a dance which they called "the roof dance." "while the dance and song were going on below, leaped up and down between the roof-board, pushed aside for that purpose, making a noise like thunder.... after the dance was finished an old seshaaht came forward, and remarked, that as it was a dance peculiar to his tribe it could not be omitted," though "very injurious to the roof." ogilby's japan, p. . "the manner of disposing of their (formosans') dead and funeral obsequies is thus: when any one dies, the corpse being laid out, after twenty-four hours they elevate it upon a convenient scaffold or stage, four feet high, matted with reeds and rushes, near which they make a fire, so that the corpse may dry by degrees.... they drink intoxicating liquors. one beats on a drum made _like a chest_, but _longer_ and _broader_, and turning _the bottom upwards_; the women get up, and two by two, back to back, move their legs and arms in a dancing time and measure, which pace, or taboring tread, sends a kind of murmuring or doleful sound from the _hollow tree_." _n.b._--their boats were constructed by hollowing out a tree (_vide_ catlin's "last rambles," p. ).[ ] [ ] compare what ogilby (p. ) says: "near firando (japan) at an _inlet of the sea_ stands an idol, _being nothing but a chest of wood_, about three feet high, _standing like an altar_ [the big canoe was placed on end among the mandans], whither women, when they suppose they have conceived, go in pilgrimage, offering on their knees rice or other presents." at p. , at jado, it is said, "somewhat farther stands a temple _dedicated to all sorts of animals with a very high double roof_." (query, noah's ark?) in the _illustrated london news_, january , , its correspondent from yokohama gives a short account of the japanese religious festivals, in which among other coincidences i note the following: "the most absurd," he says, "is one in which the foul fiend is simultaneously expelled from every house by dint of pelting him with boiled peas. the devil is chased out of the town with a dance of derision, by young fellows in grotesque costumes, for the public mirth." compare with the scene in the mandan ceremonies, described by catlin, _vide supra_, p. . now, compare with the above, and also with the extracts from burton and catlin, at p. , remembering the prominence of the ox or bull (the ox and bull dance) in the mandan customs, and the connection of the bull with nin or ninip, p. , , and other mythological figures of which i believe noah to have been the antitype. the following description of the most curious traditional representation in japan (ogilby, p. ):-- "moreover, besides the ox temple in meaco, there is also to be seen the stately chapel dedicated to the creator of all things (the ox in the above-mentioned temple is represented as breaking the mundane egg, _vide supra_, p. ), who is represented in a very strange manner. in the middle of the temple is a great pot _full of water_ surrounded with a wall, seven feet high from the ground, in the middle of which appears an _exceeding great tortoise_, whose shell, feet, and head stands in the water; out of its back rises the body of a great tree, on the top of which sits a strange and horrible figure" ... [then follows a good deal which has its explanation, but must be curtailed] ... "the image hath four arms" ... in one "the hand grasps a cruse, _from whence water issues continually_; the other hand _holds a sceptre_.... the tree whereon he sits is of brass, ... about the middle of this tree an exceeding great serpent hath wreathed itself _twice_, whose head and body is on the right side held fast by two horrible shapes, the remaining part thereof to the tail, two kings and one of japan sages stretch forth" [evidently representing the contending influences (as in mandan dance), one of the kings having the duplicated janus head, _supra_, p. .][ ] [ ] compare p. in "flint chips," (e. t. stevens). "the omahas possess a _sacred shell_, which is regarded as an object of great sanctity by the whole nation. it has been transmitted from generation to generation, and its origin is unknown. a skin _lodge is appropriated to it_, and in this lodge a man, appointed as a guard to the shell, constantly resides. it is placed upon a stand, and is _never suffered to touch the earth_. it is concealed from sight by a _number of mats_ made of strips of skin plaited. the whole forms a large package, from which _tobacco_" (comp. stevens' "flint chips," p. , and catlin, _supra_) "and the _roots of trees_" (comp. supra, p. ), "and other objects are suspended," &c. &c. at pp. - there is perhaps a still more definite tradition of the deluge (confused as usual with traditions of the creation) in connection with the idol topan. "not far from mettogamma (said the interpreter) lies an exceeding _high mountain ... the top of which_ stand several temples which may be seen a great distance off at sea. in these temples the bonzies worshipped that great god which formerly created the sun, moon, and stars, but also fifteen lesser deities which some ages since conversed upon the earth (compare pp. , .) then follows their account of the creation. "mankind not only increased in number but also in wickedness, differing more and more from their heavenly extract, growing still worse and worse, mocking at thunder, _rainbows_, and fire; nay, they blasphemed the great god himself (whom when the interpreter named, he bowed his head to the ground), whereupon he called his inferior deities about him, telling them that he resolved to destroy and ruin all things ... and make a _round_ globe, in which the four elements should be all resolved _into their former mass_; and chiefly he commanded the idol topan to make thunder balls to shoot through the air and fire all the kingdoms with lightning ... so that none were saved except _one man and his family_, that had entertained and duly worshipped the gods." of the god topan it had been previously said "that some years since he saw the temple of the idol topan, whose image stood on a copper altar, cast like clouds, himself armed as a warrior, a coronet helmet on his head, his hand grasping a mighty club, and seeming to fly through the sky and moving his club to occasion thunder. when it thundered, a bonzi, whose head was adorned with consecrated leaves [query, the olive or willow?] which no thunder could harm," offered _several fishes_." (comp. , .) _vide_ also p. , representation of the fish-god in the person of their "god canon" [where we read of their "gods canon and camis or chamis;" if we were to substitute canaan and cham, _quid vetat_?][ ] [ ] _vide_ japanese tradition of the deluge (bertrand, "dict. des relig.," gainet, i. ; also _id._), it is said that the japanese commemorate this event in their third annual festival, which takes place on the fifth day of the fifth month. compare with mandan's, _supra_. to complete the circle of evidence, as regards the general tradition, i must add the following extracts from captain cook's voyages, i. (london, ):--"in the island of huahieine, thirty-one leagues from otaheite n.-w.," captain cook came upon an erection, of which he says--"the general resemblance between this repository and the ark of the lord among the jews is remarkable; but it is still more remarkable that upon inquiring of a boy what it was called, he said 'ewharre no eatua,' it is the house of god. he could, however, give no account of its signification or use." at p. , "saw (at uliatea) several ewharre-no-eatua or houses of god, to which carriage poles were attached as at huahieine.... from thence we went to a long house not far distant, where among rolls of cloth and several other things we saw the _model of a canoe_, about three feet long, to which were tied eight human jawbones" [eight the number saved in the ark. compare p. with kabiri. compare with ogilby (japan, ), where the god canon (canaan) is represented with seven heads on _his_ breast, eight with himself, he having been substituted for noah as the head of the race.] captain cook adds, however, "we had already learnt that these, like scalps among the indians of north america, were trophies of war," and suggests that the canoe "may be a symbol of invasion." that i must leave to the reader to decide, but the heads might be "trophies of conquest," and at the same time memorial heads,--the memorial heads having necessarily been replaced many times since the custom was first instituted.[ ] [ ] captain cook, speaking of their dances (p. ), says, "between the dances of the women the men performed a kind of dramatic interlude, in which there was _dialogue_ as well as dancing; but we were not sufficiently acquainted with their language to understand the subject. some gentlemen saw a much more regular entertainment of the dramatic kind, which was divided into _four acts_." _vide_ abbe gainet, "la bible sans la bible," i. , quotes l'abbe domenech, who speaks of "the dance of the deluge among many nations of the north and west of america." gainet also says that there were two distinct traditions of the deluge in the east and west groups of the society islands (otaheite). l'abbe gainet (i. ) gives an account of the _mandans_ from "ceremoníes religieuses," i. , which it will be interesting to compare with catlin, as it was written a century previous to his visit. "the mandans pretend that the deluge was formerly raised up against them by the white men to destroy their ancestors.... then the _first man_, whom they regard as one of their divinities, inspired mankind with the idea of constructing upon an eminence a _town_ and fortress in wood, and promised them that the water should not pass that point. they followed his advice and constructed the ark on the banks of the heart river. it was of a very large size, so that a part of their nation found safety there whilst the rest perished. in memory of this memorable event they place in each of their villages a small model of this _edifice_ [which may account for the erect position of 'the big canoe'], this model still exists. the waters abated after that, and to this day they celebrate, in memory of this ark, the fête of the '_okippe_,' which lasts _four days_." this leads me to the final question, when was this custom instituted? up to this i have not considered whether the custom was good or bad, demoniac or only corrupted; and as to the time of its institution i have merely assumed from the fact of its universality that it was primeval. before expressing my opinion, i must fortify myself with an extract from the rev. w. smith's very able work on the pentateuch.[ ] [ ] longmans, , i. . "strange, too, though it may appear, there is much in the outward ceremonial of the levitical worship that indicates an egyptian type. the fact need startle no one. for it is derogatory neither to the holiness of the almighty nor to the inspiration of his delegate, that moses should have borrowed from others rites which were good in themselves, and which became idolatrous only then, when employed in the worship of false gods. the most of external forms are in themselves indifferent and receive their determinate value from the feeling that prompts them, and the object to which they are directed: when given to god they are divine worship--when given to idols, they are idolatry. nor is inspiration jeopardised because the material details may have come from a human source. care and study and observation are not dispensed with in the mind that receives the divine communications; and moses was instructed in all the wisdom and learning of the egyptians for the very purpose of enabling him to use it to the best advantage ... as the church consecrated to a higher purpose the temples and the rites and festivals found among the pagan populations at their conversion. we need not then be scandalised if we find the _ark of jehovah_ to be the counterpart of the shrine of amun. the resemblance strikes us at once on a glance at the woodcut token from lepsius' denkmäler, ab. iii., bl. ." let the reader refer to the engravings in rev. w. smith's pentateuch, , . dr smith does not discuss the point further, only he says (p. ), "in egypt it is _the canopied boat_ in which the deity is steered on the heavenly ocean; in israel it is the covered chest, the form best adapted for holding the stone tables of the law." but if "the canopied boat" should have corresponded among the egyptians to "the big canoe" among the mandans, and the other similar memorials we have come upon, what more appropriate symbol could moses have incorporated? was not the ark of the covenant, in which the law was preserved in the widespread inundation of corruption, the counterpart of the ark in which mankind, in the persons of noah and his family, were saved? and in carrying on and embodying the tradition, we may see a motive why there may have been an intentional alteration of the symbol--viz. in order to wean his people from the corruption into which the whole egyptian ceremonial had sunk?[ ] and why should it not have been so? is there not a probability and fitness in the conjecture of some such commemorative sacrifices and memorials among mankind when they lived together before the dispersion in the times immediately following the deluge? [ ] cardinal wiseman in his letters to john poynder, esq. ("essays on various subjects," i. ), says, "dr spencer, a learned divine of the established church, published two folio volumes replete with extraordinary erudition, entitled 'de legibus hebræorum ritualibus et eorum ratione,' which has gone through many editions both here and on the continent. now, the entire drift and purport of this work is manifestly twofold--first, to prove that the great design of god, in giving rites and ceremonies to the jews, was to prevent their falling into idolatry; secondly, to demonstrate that almost every practice, rite, ceremony, and act so given was directly borrowed from the egyptian heathens; ... that whether we speak of the more solemn and especial injunctions, or of the minutest details of the ceremonial law, of circumcision and of sacrifice in all its varieties, and with all its distinctive ceremonies of purification and lustrations and new moons; of the ark of the covenant and the cherubim; of the temple and its oracles; of the urim and thummim, and the emissary goat; of them all spencer has endeavoured to prove, and that to the satisfaction of many learned men, that they pre-existed among the egyptians and other neighbouring nations." i have not met with dr spencer's work. i may mention, however, the pomegranates in the levitical robe as an instance. _vide_ references in this chapter and appendix. appendix to chapter xi. the pongol festival. "the pongol festival in southern india," by charles e. govat. "journal of the royal asiatic society of great britain and ireland," new series, vol. v., part i. ( .) "i had seen the pongol, the touching domestic festival it is now my chief object to describe. it had proved by its simple pathos that the hindus were akin to the noblest nations of the world, and that in their antiquity they were worthy of the honour that has come to them of being the best and the least altered representatives of the 'juventus mundi,' which all nations count to have been the golden age." he contrasts it with the worship in the great temple at siringham near trichinopoly, in which there "was ample justification for every epithet employed by ward, dubois, or wilberforce." "yet the pongol declared with equal force in favour of domestic love and chastity, of simple thanksgiving and rural contentment.... there is much reason to suppose that the pongol is one of the most complete and interesting of these remnants of primitive life. that it is primitive is shown by the fact that the old vedic deities are alone worshipped. indra is the presiding deity. agni is the main object of worship. a further proof of this point is given by the efforts that have constantly been made by the brahmans to corrupt the ritual, and introduce pauranic deities. krishna is always declared by the brahmans to be the pongol god, but the _tradition itself_ bears witness that the feast is older than the god. the tale is that when the great wave of krishna worship passed over the peninsula, the people were so enamoured of him that they ceased to perform the pongol rites to indra. this made the latter deity _so angry that he poured down a flood upon the earth_. the affrighted people ran to krishna, who seized the great mountain govardhanas, wrenched it from its place, and held it aloft on the tip of his little finger, like some huge umbrella. the people then ran beneath with their flocks and were saved.... the occasion of the festival is also primitive, for the pongol is another feast of ingathering, the centre of hebrew festivals, as this is of those of southern india.... the pongol is remarkable, as will be seen, for the strange combination of pastoral, hunting, and agricultural life. there are 'harvest homes' in almost every nation, but i do not know of any other example of the combination. the _great_ days of the feast are two--one of these devoted to the new crops, the other to the cattle alone ... while the feast winds up with a grand hunt, first of the cattle themselves and next of a hare." compare ch. vii.; compare patagonian. "long before the commencement of the feast an unwonted activity pervades native society. the pongol is _the_ social festival of the year, and must be celebrated with due honour, else an ineffaceable stain will rest on the family name. it is the christmas and whitsuntide of england made into one.... so soon as the _rains have finished_, and this may be expected by about the first week in december, the carpenter, the builder, and the artists are in full work repairing the houses.... the sides of the road in the bazaar are heaped with 'chatties' of all sizes and shapes. presents are bought for children. distant relatives have no fields of their own from which to get their rice, so a sack of the new grain from the ancestral acres goes off to each. to this is added a pot of ghee, a set of brass pots, or perhaps a jewel; that the pongol may not lack wherewith to make it joyful." creditors and debtors are often brought then to a compromise, or the process is postponed "till after pongol." "all must be ready by the early part of january, when, according to the hindu astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of capricorn. the feast hangs upon this, and it will be seen that the most interesting event of the celebration must exactly coincide with the passage of the sun. the festival commences on the previous day, and lasts for seven days, of which the second marks the sun's passage, and is called mahâ (or great) pongol, ... the next day is bhôgi pongol, or pongol of rejoicing, equally well known by the name of indra, ... bonfires and torches are illuminated (compare boulanger, lib. i. ch. ii.) the feast is now begun, and all turn from the fire, as it is extinguished by the rising sun, to the _bath_, with which every religious rite must commence. no image is used during the whole course of the celebration, except that of ganesa.... indra is represented on ordinary occasions as _a white man_ sitting on an elephant. in his left hand is a bow (compare ch. xv.), and in his right a thunderbolt, while his body is studded with a thousand eyes. [query, a reference to the peacock? compare ch. xv.] agni has also his special image, that of a stout man, red and hairy as esau, riding on a goat [compare bacchus, p. ]. sûrya is also a red man, sitting on a water lily. he has four arms and three eyes. but none of these (deities) are known at pongol any more than they were at the time when the hymns of the rig veda were composed.... the gifts are laid out on trays,--a vase of sugar, or perhaps an idol, _peacock_ or elephant, round which will be grouped smaller works in sugar for the children.... one thing may not be forgotten, that is a lime [compare 'gourd,' p. ]. this must be _as large_ as money can buy, and then be carefully encased in gold leaf till it looks like one of the golden apples of antiquity. the next day is mahâ (or great) pongol. it is often called sûrya pongol. at noon the sun will cross the equator, and bring the culminating glory of the feast. so great a day must commence with appropriate ceremonial, and _in this instance it is bathing_. in country places the women run early in the morning to the _nearest tank_ and _plunge bodily in without undressing_." [this is alluded to by mr gover as "an innovation so uncomfortable and possibly dangerous;" but no evidence is adduced of its being an innovation, and its being the custom of the "country parts" would incline us to the contrary belief.] the men also bathe very carefully, as if the occasion _were very solemn_. reference is made to the rig veda, i. , - (wilson, i. ); but in these verses occur the words, "waters take away whatever sin has been found in me." "dripping wet, the women proceed, without changing their clothes, to prepare the feast, ... new chatties, or earthen vessels had been purchased for the occasion; one of them is now taken and is filled with rice, milk, sugar, dholghee or clarified butter, grain, and other substances, calculated to produce a tasty dish.... the ingathering must be celebrated with things that have just been garnered. usually hindoos will not eat new rice, as it is indigestible" (refer to leviticus xxiii. - ). another incident is that--"the head of the house approaches the image (of ganesa), and performs pûja. then follows a procession of the young married couples to propitiate their mothers-in-law.... so a present, the best the house can provide, is carefully put together on a tray. it may be fruit, or brass pots, or ghee, or whatever else may be thought most acceptable. then a small procession is formed. in front go three or four men, beating on tom-toms and blowing pipes. then follows the gift, held aloft. over it, if the family be respectable, is held an umbrella, carried by a servant who walks behind the bearer of the gift.... the nearest relative steps forward and asks that the daughter and her husband may come to the 'boiling,' to fill up the family circle. then follows the boiling of the pot; 'as the milk boils, so will the coming year be.' the pongol is one long series of visits, entertainments, and social joys." (comp. mandan festival, _supra_.) "the third day of the feast is mâttu pongol, or the pongol _of the cattle_. it commences with a general _wash_. they betake themselves to the nearest _sacred_ tank, driving or dragging with them the whole bovine possessions of the village. they are then driven home, and adornment commences; the horns are carefully painted _red_, _blue_, _green_, _or yellow_,--if the owner be rich, gold leaf is employed,--heavy garlands of flowers placed on the horns. meanwhile the women have prepared another new chatty, filling it with water, steeping within saffron, cotton seeds, and mangora leaves. the master of the ceremonial, usually the head of the house, comes for it, and places himself at the head of a procession of all the men--the women may not see the rite we now describe. in solemn silence they march round each animal four times, while the first man sprinkles the bitter water upon it and the ground as often as they pass the four cardinal points of the compass.... this done, the women and children are again admitted. the patient cattle are led out one by one to receive their final adornment.... then, at a given signal, every rope is untied, every tom-tom, pipe, and guitar is banged or blown to the extreme of its endurance, and in an instant the herd, hitherto so patient, is careering down the street in an extremity of terror.... any one may possess himself of whatever is carried by the cattle. no little skill and a vast amount of courage are shown by the 'timid' hindoos in this dangerous and exciting pell-mell. the next day is kanen pongol, or pongol of the calves. "on the evening of this day we find the only token of corruption in the ceremonial." ... then follows a dance, just as is described by catlin as _closing_ the mandan ceremonial, in which very similar scenes occur. before adverting to the points of contrast between the pongol and the mandan and dahoman ceremonies, i will give an extract from a book recently published, giving an account of a country hitherto unexplored--viz. northern patagonia. traces i think will be recognised of the same primitive custom, though with evidences of corruption. "three years slavery among the patagonians," by guinnard (bentley, ), p. .[ ] [ ] much doubt has been expressed as to the veracity of m. guinnard's narrative, but the scenes and customs referred to are not likely to have been invented; and on the supposition of a fictitious narrative (although i see nothing incredible) they will probably have been imported from true narratives of other tribes. in either case they supply additional evidence. "at certain periods of the year the indians keep religious festivals. the first takes place in the summer, and is consecrated to vita-ouènetrou (the god of goodness) for the purpose of thanking him for all his past favours, and of begging him to continue them in the future. it is generally the grand cacique who fixes the date and duration of the festival.... the preparations are made with all the religious pomp of which they are capable; the indians grease their hair and paint their faces with greater care than usual.... at the commencement of the ceremony the women move their tents provisionally to the centre of the spot chosen by the cacique. the men do not arrive until these preparations are finished, they ride three times round the place at full gallop, shouting their war cry and shaking their lances. then, their rides ended, they range themselves in single file, and tilt their lances with such perfect regularity as to make it a striking sight. the women _afterwards take the places of their husbands_" (compare catlin, _sup._, p. ), "who, after dismounting and tying up their horses, form a second rank behind them." "the dance then commences without change of place, except from right to left. the women sing in a plaintive tone [laughter being expressly forbidden during the whole continuance of the ceremonies], accompanying themselves by striking a _wooden drum_." compare catlin, _sup._, . it is also said (guinnard, p. ), "the drum is composed of a sort of wooden bowl, more or less large, over which a wild-cat skin is stretched, or a piece of the paunch of a _horse_. _this instrument_ ... is much used by them, _especially in their religious festivals_ and character dances." the drum is "decorated with colours and designs similar to those on their faces. the men pirouette, limping upon the opposite leg to that of the women." compare catlin, , . "at a signal given by the cacique presiding over the festival, cries of alarm are raised, the men spring into their saddles, abruptly _interrupting the dance_ to take part in a fantastic cavalcade round the site of the festival, all waving their weapons, and raising the sinister cry they utter in their pillages." "in the intervals of these exciting diversions everybody _goes visiting_ in the hope of tasting a little rotted _milk_ kept in a horse-hide." compare pongol festival, p. . "at a very early hour on the fourth day, to close the ceremony, a young _horse_, an _ox_, and two sheep, given by the richest men amongst them, are sacrificed to their god. the head turned towards the east, and the heart still palpitating is hung upon a lance and inclined towards the rising sun." "the second festival takes place in the autumn; it is celebrated in honour of houacouvou (_director of_ the evil spirits). the object of it is to conjure him to preserve them from all enchantment. as in the first festival, the indians dress themselves in their best, and assemble by tribes only, headed by their cacique. an assemblage of _all the cattle_ takes place _en masse_. the men form a double circle around, galloping unceasingly in opposite directions, so that none of these unruly animals may escape. they invoke houacouvou aloud, throwing down, drop by drop, fermented _milk_ out of _bull's horns_, handed to them _by their wives_, while they are riding round the cattle. after repeating this ceremony three or _four_ times, they sprinkle the horses and oxen with whatever remains of the milk, with the view, they say, of preserving them from all maladies; this done, each man _separates his own cattle_, and _drives it to some distance_, then returns for the purpose of assembling round the cacique, who, in a long and fervid address, advises them never to forget houacouvou in their prayers, and to lose no time in preparing themselves to please him, by carrying desolation amongst the christians, and increasing the number of their own flocks and herds." this festival, therefore, in its original conception would not appear to be a worship of the evil spirit, but of him who curbs him; the same idea of the subordination of the evil spirit will be seen in catlin's account of the mandans. there is nothing certainly in this account which directly connects these patagonian ceremonies with the diluvian commemorations, unless, perhaps, the sacred drum; but there is much in common with the pongol and the mandan which we have seen to have been commemorative. the prominence of sun worship will not have escaped observation; but this discovery cannot militate against my position, for i have already shown (p. ) that such admixture was probable, and also indicated how it was likely to have come about. any hostile argument which would seek to deprive those ceremonies of their significance must be directed to the extrusion of the diluvian symbols. further trace of these diluvian ceremonies might be traced in the buddhist systems; but it would open out too large a question for discussion here. chapter xii. _sir john lubbock on tradition._ de maistre's view.[ ] "we have little knowledge of the times which preceded the deluge.... a single consideration interests us, and it must never be lost sight of, and that is, that chastisements are ever proportioned to crimes, and crimes always proportioned to the knowledge of the criminal; in such sort that the deluge supposes unheard-of crimes, and that these crimes suppose a knowledge infinitely transcending that which we possess.... this knowledge, freed from the evil which had rendered it so noxious, survived in the first family the destruction of the human race. we are blinded as to the nature and advance of science by a gross sophism which has fascinated every eye; it is to judge of times when men saw effects in their causes by those in which men painfully ascend from effects to causes, in which they are only concerned with effects, in which they say it is useless to occupy themselves with causes, and in which they do not know what constitutes a cause. they never cease repeating--'think of the time that has been required to know such and such a thing.' what inconceivable blindness! a moment only was required. if man would know the cause of a single phenomenon of nature, he would probably comprehend all the rest. we are unwilling to see that truths, the most difficult to discover, are very easy to understand.... 'these things,' as plato says, 'are perfectly and easily learned if any one teaches them, [greek: ei didaskoi tis]; but,' he adds, 'no one will teach them us, unless, indeed, god shows him the road, [greek: all oud an didaxeien ei mê theos yphêgoito].' 'i doubt not,' said hippocrates, 'that the arts were in the first instance favours ([greek: theôn charitas]) granted to men by the gods.'... listen to sage antiquity in its account of the first men: it will tell you that they were marvellous men, and that beings of a superior order deigned to favour them with the most precious communications. on this point there is no disagreement, ... reason, revelation, all human tradition make up a demonstration which the mouth only can contradict. not only, then, did mankind commence with science, but with a science different from ours, and superior to ours.... no one knows to what epoch remounts, i do not say the early commencements of society, but the great institutions, the profound knowledge, and the most magnificent monuments of human industry and human power.... asia, having been the theatre of the greatest marvels, it is not astonishing that its people should have preserved a leaning to the marvellous stronger than what is natural to man in general, and than each one recognises in himself individually. hence it comes that they have always shown so little taste and talent for our science of _conclusions_. one would say rather that they recalled something of primitive science and of the era of intuition. would the enchained eagle ask for a balloon to raise himself into the air? no, he would demand only that his fetters should be broken. and who knows if these people are not destined yet to contemplate sights which will be refused to the cavilling genius of europe? however this may be, observe, i pray you, that it is impossible to think of modern art without seeing it constantly environed with all the contrivances of the intellect and all the methods of art.... on the contrary. so far as it is possible to discover the science of primitive times at such an enormous distance, we see it always free and isolated, flying rather than marching, and presenting in all its characteristics something of the ærial and supernatural.[ ]... but then comes the corollary.... if all men descend from the three couples who repeopled the universe, and if the human race commenced with knowledge, the savage cannot be more, as i have said to you, than a branch detached from the social tree.... now, what matter does it make at what epoch such and such a branch was separated from the tree? it suffices that it is detached: no doubt as to its degradation; and i venture to say no doubt as to the cause of degradation, which can only have been some crime. a chief of a nation having altered the principle of morality in his household by one of those prevarications which, so far as we can judge, are no longer possible in the actual state of things, because happily our knowledge is no longer such as to allow us to become culpable in this degree; this chief of a nation, i say, transmits the curse to his posterity; and every constant force being accelerating in its nature, this degradation, weighing incessantly upon his descendants, has ended in making them what we call _savages_. two causes extremely different have thrown a deceptive cloud over the lamentable state of savages: the one of ancient date, the other belonging to our century.... one cannot for an instant regard the savage without reading the curse written, i do not say only in his soul, but even in the exterior form of his body. he is an infant, robust, yet deformed and ferocious, in whom the flame of intelligence no longer throws more than a lurid and intermittent glare.... i cannot abandon this subject without suggesting an important observation: the barbarian who is intermediate between the civilised man and the savage, has been and may be again civilised by some sort of religion; but the savage, properly so called, has never been so except by christianity. it is a prodigy of the first order, a species of redemption, exclusively reserved to the true priesthood.[ ]... for the rest, we must not confound the _savage_ with the _barbarian_. [ ] i need not remind my reader that these speculations of de maistre anticipated by many years the analogous, though at the same time independent, conclusions of archbishop whately, in his lecture "on the origin of civilisation," published in . [ ] "we ought then to recognise that the state of civilisation and of science is, in a certain sense, the natural and primitive state of man. thus, all oriental traditions commenced with a state of perfection and light, and, i repeat it, of supernatural light; and greece--lying greece, which 'has dared everything in history'--renders homage to this truth, in placing its golden age at the beginning of things. it is no less remarkable that it does not attribute to the following ages, even to the iron age, the state of savagery, so that all that it has told us of those primitive men living on acorns, &c., puts it _in contradiction with itself_, and can only have reference to particular cases, _i.e._ to some races degraded, and then reclaimed to a state of nature, which is a state of civilisation."--_de maistre's "soirées de st petersbourg"_ i. _deux: entretien_, p. . [ ] i consider that this remark has been fully substantiated in marshall's "christian missions." "no language could possibly have been invented, either by a single man, who could not have extorted obedience, or by many who would not have made themselves understood to each other.... but i would wish, before concluding this subject, to recommend to your notice an observation which has always struck me. whence comes it that in the primitive language of every ancient people, we find words which necessarily suppose a knowledge foreign to these people? whence, for instance, have the greeks, three thousand years ago at least, found the epithet 'physizoos' (giving or possessing life), which homer sometimes gives to the earth?.... where have they taken the still more singular epithet of 'philomate' (liking or thirsting for blood), given to this same earth in a tragedy? (euripides, phoen. v. ). Æschylus had alluded before 'to the earth drinking the blood of the two rival brothers, the one slain by the other.'[ ] humboldt ('monum. des peuples indigènes de l'amerique,' paris, ) has said: 'many idioms which at present belong only to barbarous nations seem to be the remains of rich and flexible languages, which indicate a high culture.... but tell me, i pray you, how it entered the heads of the ancient latins, at a time when they were only acquainted with the arts of war and of tillage, to express by the same word the idea of prayer and of punishment? who taught them to call fever the "purifier," or the "expiator"?'[ ] would not one say that there was here a judgment, a veritable knowledge of the cause, by virtue of which the people affirmed the name so justly? but do you believe that these sorts of judgments could possibly have belonged to a time when they scarcely knew how to write, when the dictator dug his garden, and in which they composed verses which varro and cicero no longer understood?... the greeks had preserved some obscure traditions in this regard--[mr gladstone has shown them to be neither few nor obscure],--and who knows if homer does not attest the same truth, perhaps without knowing it, when he speaks of certain men and certain things 'which the gods called after one manner, and men after another?'"--_count joseph de maistre, "soirées de st petersbourg,"_ i. _deux: entretien._[ ] [ ] compare with gainet, i. , . [ ] "now it is clear that the train of thought which leads from purification to penance, or from purification to punishment, reveals a moral and even a religious sentiment in the conception and naming of poena, and it shows us that in the very infancy of criminal justice punishment was looked upon (mr max müller is speaking with reference to what i may call briefly the sanscrit epoch) not simply a retribution or revenge, but as a correction, as a removal of guilt. we do not feel the presence of these early thoughts when we speak of corporal punishment or castigation; yet _castigation_ too was originally chastening, from '_castus_,' pure; and 'incestum' was impurity or sin, which, according to roman law, the priests had to make good, or to punish by a 'supplicium,' or supplication or prostration before the gods." [ ] compare with max müller, "chips," ii. . against this view of de maistre, which i consider to be indirectly sustained by the testimony of all antiquity, stands the theory of sir john lubbock. there is the constant historical tradition and testimony of the human race on one side, and there is the history of "pre-historic times" on the other. nevertheless, i venture to say, that the author of "pre-historic times" only takes up with man at the point where de maistre leaves him. of course i do not seek to detach sir john lubbock from the evidence he has collected; neither do i forget that he is the representative of an opinion and a school; at any rate, that there is an opinion of which he is the most conspicuous exponent. so far as my limited acquaintance with the special subjects with which sir john lubbock deals extends (and with these i am only indirectly concerned), he appears perfectly straightforward and candid; and, moreover, i must acknowledge my obligations to him, for he has written with remarkable breadth and ability; and it is with the aid of the interesting matter which he has accumulated,[ ] expressly in disparagement of tradition, that i venture to undertake to reinstate it in honour. [ ] _vide_ chapter on savage life in "pre-historic times." neither do i wish to ignore that sir john lubbock's main argument is the geological argument derived from the discovery of the fossils and implements in the drift. but on this point i beg to be allowed to say a word in protest. as a geologist sir john lubbock may be entitled to rely mainly upon the geological evidence of a palæolithic age;[ ] but as an ethnologist dealing with history and writing on the subject of tradition, his argument, however incontrovertible he may deem it, sinks to the second rank; and secondary i shall take the liberty of considering it. on the same grounds, though i think with more reason, that sir j. lubbock seeks to be relieved from "the embarrassing interference of tradition" ("pre-historic times," p. ), i protest, when tradition is the subject-matter of the discussion, against a geological argument being brought to take the ground from under our feet! [ ] it may perhaps be doubtful to what extent sir j. lubbock maintains his theory of a stone age; although sir john formally excludes china and japan from the argument, he nevertheless appears to me to assume the existence of universal transitional periods through which the human race necessarily passed. "it would appear that pre-historic archæology may be divided into four great epochs. firstly, that of the drift: when man shared the possession of europe with the mammoth, &c. this we may call the 'palæolithic period.' secondly, the later or polished stone age; a period, &c. thirdly, the bronze age, &c. fourthly, the iron age." sir john adds, certainly--"in order to prevent misapprehension, it may be well to state at once, that for the present i only apply this classification to europe, though in all probability it might be extended also to the neighbouring parts of asia and africa. as regards other civilised countries, china and japan for instance, we as yet know nothing of their pre-historic archæology. [i should rather say, as we as yet have no reason to suppose that they have ever lost the knowledge of metals.] it is evident also that some nations, such as the fuegians, andamaners, &c., are _even now_ only in an age of stone. but even in this limited sense, the above classification has not met with general acceptance; there _are still some_ archæologists who believe that the arms and implements--stone, bronze, and iron--were used contemporaneously."--_pre-historic times_, pp. , . i think that the concluding sentence makes it quite clear that sir john assumes the existence of universal progressive periods as above. in any case it may be proved in this way. sir john argues upon the hypothesis of the unity of the human race; and i also think that he will not refuse the unbroken testimony to the fact of the civilisation of europe from asia. either, then, the _first_ colonisation took place when asia was in the state of the "drift," or in the "later polished stone age," or else the migration left asia with the knowledge of bronze or iron. on the latter supposition the argument i contend for is conceded, and original civilisation and subsequent degeneracy is established. to escape this alternative the universality of a stone age in asia as well as in europe, must be proved or assumed. this assumption i maintain is essential to sir john's argument. in the first place, i beg to urge that if sir j. lubbuck's argument be well founded, professor rawlinson's reconstruction of assyrian history cannot be true. now i assume that the one order of facts is as well established as the other. if professor rawlinson takes back assyrian history and corroborates history and tradition by the evidence of recent excavations to b.c. , identifies the erech of scripture with the huruk of the cuneiform tablets and the modern urka; similarly identifies the other three cities of nimrod; and, finally, identifies nimrod himself as bil-nipru; and if, further, bronze implements are found (rawlinson, i. , , ), along with flint doubtless (but this was common throughout the bronze age, as sir john himself admits), at an early period;--and bronze, though comparatively rare, yet exists among the very early assyrian remains--there seems no good reason to suppose that the knowledge of metals, which we know (gen. iv. ) to have existed before the deluge, and which the construction of the ark presupposes, was ever lost. a stone age, exclusive of metals, common to the whole world and to all mankind, is therefore an untenable hypothesis according to the testimony of history. if it existed anywhere it must have been only partially, locally, and contemporaneously with this traditional knowledge of metals, which seems to be historically proved.[ ] i may at least be permitted to believe in the accuracy of professor rawlinson's conclusions, and to regard them as the verdict of history: and if the historical arguments so pronounce, why should the geological or palæontological argument override it? is not history supreme on its own ground--and if scripture is always found in perfect consistency with history, is it not as much as in strictness we should have a right to expect? "tradidit mundum disputationi eorum" (eccles. iii. ). [ ] wilson ("archæologia of scotland," ) says, "but after all it is to asia we are forced to return for the _true source of nearly all our primitive arts_, nor will the canons of archæology be established on a safe foundation till the antiquities of that older continent have been explored and classified." not only bronze but iron has been found in the east in use at an early period (_vide_ layard, "nineveh and babylon," - , ). at nimroud, dr percy (_id._ ) says the iron was used to economise the bronze; if so it must have been cheaper, and therefore probably more abundant; and he is of opinion that "iron was more extensively used by the ancients than seems to be generally admitted." philology seems also to establish an early common knowledge, and subsequent tradition of the use of metals. mr max müller (ii. ) says, "that the value and usefulness of some of the metals was known before the separation of the aryan race can be proved only by a few words; for the names of most of the metals differ in different countries. yet there can be no doubt that iron was known, and its value appreciated, whether for defence or attack. whatever its old aryan name may have been, it is clear that sanscrit 'ayas,' latin 'ahes,' in 'ahencus' and even the contracted form 'æs, æris'; the gothic 'ais,' the old german 'er,' and the english iron, are names cast in the same mould, and only slightly corroded even now by the rust of so many centuries." the swedish gothic race had no tradition but of weapons of iron. (professor nillson's "stone age," p. .) i find in captain cook's voyages that in otaheite their word for iron is "eure-eure." germans (_apud_ tacitus) called their iron lances "framea," which has great resemblance to _ferrum_. (_vide_ wilson, .) the following passage from wilson's "archæologia" seems to prove this common terminology still more extensively--"the saxon 'gold' differs not more essentially from the greek '[greek: chrysos]' than from the latin 'aurum'; iron from '[greek: sideros]' or 'ferrum'; _but_ when we come to examine the celtic names of the metals it is otherwise. the celtic terms are: gold: gael, 'or,' golden, 'orail'; welsh, 'aur'; latin, ' aurum.' silver: gael, 'airgiod,' made of silver, 'airgiodach'; welsh, 'ariant'; latin, 'argentum'--derived in the celtic from 'arg,' white, or milk, like the greek '[greek: argos],' whence they also formed their '[greek: argyros].' now, is it improbable that the latin 'ferrum' and the english 'iron' spring indirectly from the same celtic root? gael, '_iarunn_'; welsh, '_haiarn_'; saxon, iron; danish, 'iern'; spanish, 'hierro,' which last furnishes no remote approximation to 'ferrum.' nor with the older metals is it greatly different, as bronze, gael, 'umha' or '_prais_'; welsh, 'pres,' whence our english 'brass,' a name bearing no very indistinct resemblance to the roman 'æs.' lead in like manner has its peculiar gaelic name 'luaidha,' like the saxon 'læd' (lead), while the welsh 'plwm' closely approximates to the latin 'plumbum.' it may undoubtedly be argued that the latin is the root instead of the offshoot of these celtic names, but the entire archæological proofs are opposed to this idea," p. . sir j. lubbock, "pre-historic times" (p. ) says, "the tools of the tahitians when first discovered were made of stone, bone, shell, or wood. of metal they had no idea. when they first obtained nails they mistook them for the young shoots of some very hard wood, and hoping that life might not be quite extinct, planted a number of them carefully in their gardens." captain wallis, however, speaking of the islands within the polynesian group, remarks "as an extraordinary circumstance that although no sort of metal was seen on any of the lately discovered islands, yet the nations were no sooner possessed of a piece of _iron_, than they began to _sharpen it_, but did not treat copper or brass in the same manner."--"voyages of english navigators round the world," iii. . would not these different appreciations of iron and brass be accounted for if we suppose iron to be the _last_ metal they had been traditionally acquainted with? iron being the more common and inexpensive metal. now, secondly, as it happens that bronze is only a combination of copper and tin in certain proportions, and as neither existed on the spot (in the mesopotamian valley), it is a curious question how they could have hit upon the discovery through actual experiment. tin, for instance, is only found in cornwall, banca (between sumatra and borneo), spain, saxony, and siberia. now, how did it enter the heads of even these wise chaldæans to go to these distant countries in search of this metal unless they knew beforehand through tradition, that if procured along with copper it would produce the useful amalgam they sought? true, it might have been brought to them through commerce, but in that case there must have been some other race more advanced in civilisation than themselves. if the phoenicians, much the same argument will recur. if some race in the countries where tin was procured, where is it now? if it exists it must be represented by some race at present or historically known to have been in a state of barbarism. this, however, at this stage of the argument, would be too precipitate an admission of degeneracy! now, in a certain modified sense, i should be quite prepared to admit a stone age. nothing more probable than that in the dispersion certain families would have taken only what came readiest to hand. those who made long marches, and came to countries where minerals were scarce, would have been in the way of losing the knowledge of metals altogether, except in so far as they preserved the tradition of them; and this would much depend upon how far they preserved other traditions.[ ] some instance should be given us--and as there are savages who are still using nothing but flint, there is still the chance--of some set of savages who have spontaneously hit upon the plan of fusing different metals, or even of smelting metals which were under their eye? certainly not our supposed flint ancestors, who, as professor nillson and sir j. lubbock agree, must have got their knowledge of bronze from asia: sir j. lubbock inclining to an indo-european, professor nillson to a phoenician "origin of the bronze age civilisation." ("pre-historic times," p. .) all this perfectly coincides with the view i have indicated, that the contrast arose through the divergence of the lines of the dispersion, leading the tribes to varied fortunes, some losing and others retaining the tradition; and those who retained it eventually communicating it to those who had lapsed. but then there are those unfortunate bashkirs, who, professor nillson tells us, are still in their stone age, and who have remained bashkirs since herodotus described them as such years ago. as they have resisted the contact of civilisation so long, one can only watch with careful curiosity the transitionary process by which they will pass by internal development from their stone to their bronze age.[ ] [ ] "mr vaux of the british museum has added the following interesting note on the metallurgy of the ancients. st, the earliest form of metal work appears to have been employed in the ornamentation of sacred vessels for temples, &c.... occasionally the floor or foundation of some temples was of brass: thus [greek: chalkeos oudos] (soph. oed. col.), perhaps like the room at delphi called [greek: laïnos oudos], itself also a treasury."--layard, "nineveh and babylon," p. . boulanger, "l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usage," (iii. ), says, "ce sont les mystères qui out tiré les hommes de la vie sauvage pour les ramener à la vie sociale et policée. ces mystères étoient un composé de cérémonies religieuses ... _leur origine remonte_ au temps des héros et des demi-dieux." [ ] "of all the different phases of civilisation, those which a nation _must pass_ before it attains the highest grade of development, the first rude state is the most enduring and the most difficult to get over."--professor nillson's "stone age," . "the evidence of the transition from a stone to a bronze age among the egyptians _appears merely to be_ the use of a stone knife found in their catacombs, and used for the _sacred_ incision into the dead, although they used bronze and iron knives for ordinary purposes, and whereas the _stone_ knife was used by the early _hebrews_ in circumcision, and by the priests of montezuma as instruments of human sacrifice."--wilson's "archæologia," p. . i must now revert to what i at present wish to limit the discussion, viz. sir j. lubbock's views on the subject of tradition. sir john says that history can throw no light upon the question of the stone and bronze age, "because the use of metals has in all cases preceded that of writing." i should like to know whether sir john is prepared to adhere to this "dictum" under all circumstances, inasmuch as, if he does, he must allow me to trace the use of metals in assyria even beyond the date at which professor rawlinson seems actually to have found evidence of their use; for (pp. , ) "in the ruins of warka, the ancient huruk or erech" (the city of nimrod) we find inscriptions on bricks of the date of the reign of urukh or orchamus, who, according to classical tradition, was the seventh in succession from bel or nimrod; which tradition, says rawlinson (p. ), "accords very curiously with the information derived from the inscriptions." there is nothing to indicate that the bricks here discovered were the first bricks ever _inscribed_; on the contrary, wherever we find bricks and metals there will be a _prima facie_ presumption as to their previous use.[ ] only upon sir john lubbock's "dictum," finding evidence of writing at this date, we must necessarily conclude that the use of metals preceded it. this would bring us well up the seven reigns, and into close contact with the time of nimrod. [ ] it amounts to this, that we are requested first of all to discard and absolutely exclude all that we do know through direct historical evidence of our origin, and to determine it merely by scientific induction. sir j. lubbock says in his introduction to professor nillson's "stone age" (which is a summary of the whole question), "i have purposely avoided all reference to history, all use of historical data, because i have been _particularly anxious to show_ that in archæology we can arrive at definite and satisfactory conclusions, on independent grounds, without any assistance from history; consequently regarding times before writing was invented, and therefore before written history had commenced" (p. xlii.) compare with _supra_, ch. vii. "nor," says sir j. lubbock (p. ), "will tradition supply the place of history. at best it is untrustworthy and shortlived. thus in the new zealanders had no recollection of tasman's visit. yet this took place in , less than one hundred and thirty years before, and must have been to them an event of the greatest possible importance and interest.... i do not mean to say that tradition would never preserve for a long period the memory of any remarkable event. the above-mentioned facts (de soto's expedition is also referred to) prove only that it will not always do so; but it is unnecessary for us to discuss this question, as there is in europe no tradition of the stone age, and when arrow-heads are found the ignorant peasantry refer them to the elves or fairies; stone axes are regarded as thunderbolts, and are used not only in europe but also in various other parts of the world for magical purposes" (p. ). _"relieved" then_ "from _the embarrassing interference of tradition_, the archæologist can only follow the methods which have been so successfully pursued in geology" (p. ).[ ] this is partly a limitation of the question to oral tradition, and partly an anticipated denial of what i shall now venture to assert, namely, that we can only look for the savages' traditions of things known to them before they were savages, religious impressions which have not been effaced from their minds, legends connected with their race, facts which have determined their destiny. the very characteristic of the savage is that he lives only for the present; that he has little memory for the past, and no forecast for the future; that his mind is stricken with a hopeless sterility and fixedness, so that he only seems to remember things that are bred in the bone, and the tradition of which he cannot divest himself.[ ] [ ] "it must not be forgot to the honour of the babylonians that they are acknowledged, by all antiquity, to have been the first who made use of writing in their public and judicial acts, but at what period it is not known."--goguet, "origin of laws," i. . diodorus, however, says of the egyptians (_vide_ p. ), "_menes_ without doubt has been esteemed the first legislator of egypt, _because_ he was the first who put his _laws in writing_. for before him vulcan, helius, and osiris (_vide ante_, p. ) had given laws to egypt."--diod. l. , - . but also it must be recollected that the copper mines of egypt were worked from the earliest period. [ ] but there are savages and savages; or rather there are savages who are strictly such, and savages who have still the germ of life and who are more properly distinguished as barbarians. _vide ante_, p. , de maistre's definition of the barbarian. and so the ignorant peasantry when these flints were first dug up, although they had "no tradition," rushed instinctively upon these hatchets and considered them magical, apparently on no better grounds than that they had belonged to a former race of men whom they associated with elves and fairies. was not this their way of saying with cicero, "antiquitas proxime accedit ad deos."[ ] [ ] i find curious testimony to the belief in m. maupertius' (pinkerton, i. - ) account of an expedition of thirty leagues which he was induced to make into the interior of lapland, by the accounts which he had received of a monument which the laplanders "looked upon as the wonder of their country, and in which they conceived was _contained the knowledge of everything_ of which they were ignorant." in the end a monument was found bearing on it the appearance of great antiquity, and an inscription which m. celsius, his companion ("very well acquainted with the runic"), could not read. m. maupertius indeed says, "if the tradition of the country be consulted, all the laplanders assure us that they are characters of great antiquity, containing valuable secrets; but what can one believe in regard to antiquity from those people who do not even know their own age, and who for the greater part are ignorant who were their mothers." without supposing that the mysterious stone actually concealed any valuable and recondite knowledge, i am still struck by this attestation to the belief that antiquity shrouded such secrets; and if, which does not altogether accord with other accounts, the lapps are as ignorant as they are here represented, then it would seem to be true that when mankind lose the knowledge of everything else, they still retain the tradition of their loss and the knowledge of their degradation. concerning the superstitious veneration for stone arrow-heads very generally diffused, _vide_ mr e. t. stevens' "flint chips" (salisbury, , p. .) and so far from tradition supplying us with no clue to solve the problem of the stone age, does it not in this way suggest a very decided though an antagonistic view to that of sir john lubbock. the superstitious regard of the peasantry for these newly found relics--which i presume came under sir john's own observation when exploring the northern coast-finds--is really very curious, because it shows that their ideas and feelings in these matters were, after the lapse of at any rate a thousand years, identical with those of their ancestors. in evidence of which i adduce the following passage from professor nillson, having reference to the legend of the "guse arrows" or "orvar odd's saga":-- "this ancient romance shows very clearly that at the time when it was composed, neither arrows, nor other weapons of stone were in common use as weapons, but _that even then_ the opinion was _generally current_ that these stone weapons, which owed their existence to the dwarf race skilled in sorcery, were endowed with a magic power against witches and witchcraft which no other weapons possessed."--professor nillson, "stone age," p. . but this suggests the further reflection, whether this stone age among certain tribes was not as much in rejection as in ignorance of metals. professor nillson (p. , ) shows that flint was used for _sacred_ sacrificial purposes by the jews, egyptians, phoenicians, and latins, long after they were acquainted with weapons of metal. among these the traditional idea about flint, whatever it was, was kept in due subordination; but among tribes that had sunk into savagery it is conceivable that it may have become a superstition, and dominated. i am not sure that we do not underrate the capacity for tradition among savages where it has once taken hold; still, if it had been a question of mere savages, at the first glance i should have been disposed to agree with sir john lubbock. but let us take the case of tasman, which sir john puts forward as a sort of crucial case, and which may be accepted as such, seeing that the new zealanders may fairly claim to be regarded as "barbarians."[ ] [ ] _vide_ sir george grey's "polynesian mythology," p. xiii.; f. a. weld's (governor of western australia) "notes on new zealand," pp. , . in the first place, i find the following in a note to "cook's voyages" (smith, ):--"mr polack, in his 'narrative of travels and adventures during a residence in new zealand between the years - ,' collected all the particulars relating to cook's brush with the natives, , on the spot." next, let us see what cook says on the subject of tasman ("cook's voyages," i. )-- "but the indians still continued _near the ship_, rowing round many times [hardly the most favourable conditions under which to recover a tradition], conversing with tupia [the otaheitan interpreter] chiefly concerning the traditions they had among them with respect to the antiquities of their country. to this subject they were led by the inquiries which tupia had been directed to make, whether they had ever seen such a vessel as ours, or had ever heard that any such had been on their coast. these inquiries were all answered in the negative, _so that_ tradition has preserved among them no memorial of tasman, though by an observation made this day we find we are _only fifteen_ miles south of murderers' bay!" evidently the shrewd and gallant investigator himself was not satisfied with the cross-examination, for we find at p. -- "when we were under sail one old man, topaa [a native], came on board to take leave of us; and as we were still desirous of making further inquiries whether any memory of tasman had been preserved among their people, tupia was directed to ask him whether he had ever heard that such a vessel as ours had before visited the country. to this he replied in the negative; but said that _his ancestors had told him_ there had once come to this place a _small_ vessel from a distant country called ulimaroa, in which were _four_ men, who upon coming on shore were _all killed_. upon being asked where this distant land lay he pointed to the northward." but what does tasman himself say?-- "on the th december these savages began to grow a little bolder and more familiar, insomuch that at last they ventured on board the _heemskirk_, in order to trade with those in the vessel. as soon as i perceived it, being apprehensive that they might attempt to surprise that ship, _i sent my shallop_, with seven men, to put the people in the _heemskirk_ on their guard, and to direct them not to place any confidence in these people. my seven men, being _without arms_, were attacked by these savages, who _killed three_ of the seven, and _forced_ the other _four_ to swim for their lives; _which_ occasioned my giving that place the name of the bay of murderers.[ ] our ship's company _would undoubtedly_ have taken a severe revenge if the rough weather had not prevented them."--_tasman's voyage of discovery, pinkerton_, xi. [ ] this was a recognition on tasman's part that there was a violation of the law of nations, which he evidently considered ought to have been recognised by these people. for killing unarmed men he does not stigmatise them as savages, but as murderers, which name has clung to the spot and to the transaction to this day. now, i submit that this old man topaa's recollection of the tradition of an event which occurred one hundred and thirty years before his time, was much more perfect than captain cook's, sir joseph banks', dr solander's, and sir j. lubbock's recollection of the same event from geographical records. emboldened by this instance of the fallibility of scientific men, i now proceed to question the truth of the two following propositions of sir j. lubbock, after which i shall ask to be allowed to enunciate a proposition of my own. first, sir j. lubbock says: "it has been asserted over and over again that there is no race of man so degraded as to be entirely without a religion--without some idea of the deity. so far from this being true, the very reverse is the case" (p. ).[ ] [ ] i am aware that what i have opposed to sir j. lubbock is only the contrary and not the contradictory of his proposition. i find, however, that a very competent authority, wilson, "archæology and pre-historic annals of scotland," p. , says: "no people, however rude or debased be their state, have yet been met with so degraded to the level of the brutes as to entertain no notion of a supreme being, or no anticipation of a future state." "all polytheism is based on monotheism; idolatry implies religious feeling."--_bunsen's egypt_, iv. . but in truth it was not a priest or a missionary who first enunciated the contradictory of sir john lubbock's proposition--it was cicero. "itaque ex tot generibus nullum est animal, præter hominem, quod habeat notitiam aliquam dei: ipsisque in hominibus nulla gens est, neque _tam immansueta_, neque _tam fera_, quæ non _etiam si ignoret qualem habere deum deceat_, tamen _habendum sciat_." de legibus; i. . second, "it is a common opinion that savages are, as a general rule, only the miserable remnants of nations once more civilised; but although there are some well-established cases of national decay, there is no scientific evidence which would justify us in asserting that this is generally the case" (p. ). in opposition to the first proposition, i maintain that there is no race of men so degraded as to be without some vestige of religion. and in opposition to the second, i assert that if they have a vestige of religion, and nothing else, they have still that which will convict them of degeneracy. first, to say that a savage has no idea of the deity, is to say merely that he is a savage; and it appears to me that this extinction of all knowledge of the deity among a people, precisely marks the point where the barbarian lapses into the savage. taking the range of the authorities quoted by sir j. lubbock,[ ] i find a great concurrence of testimony to the fact that there is some vestige of religion. one only--whose authority on any other point incidental to african travel i should regard as of the highest value--captain richard burton, asserts without qualification, and in language sufficiently explicit, that "some of the tribes of the lake district of central africa admit neither god, nor angel, nor devil." others assert the same negatively--they did not come upon any signs of religion, any external observances, any trace of ceremonial worship. for instance, it is said that the tasmanians had no word for a creator (p. , lubbock), which need not excite surprise, as it is also said of them that they were incapable of forming any abstract ideas at all (p. , lubbock). again, in many of those cases where it is more or less roundly asserted that there is no vestige of religion, we find it plainly intimated that there is a belief in the devil, _e.g._ lubbock, p. . [ ] i should not have considered it necessary to have entered so elaborately into this argument, if i had previously read the chapter on animism in mr tylor's "primitive culture." the instances, however, which follow will stand as supplementary. "the tonpinambas of brazil had _no religion_, though if the name is applied 'à des notions fantastiques d'êtres surnaturals et puissans on ne sauroit nier qu'ils n'eussent une croyance religieuse et _même une sorte_ de culte exterieur.'"--_freycinet_, i. . now, although the devil may, and in many instances no doubt has,[ ] made a special revelation of himself to his votaries, the ordinary channel of information concerning him is through tradition, and through the tradition of the fall of man. [ ] sir j. lubbock says (p. ) of the feegee islanders: "they did not worship idols, but many of the priests seem to have really thought that they had been in actual communication with the atona; and some of the early missionaries were inclined to believe that satan may have been permitted to practise a deception upon them, in order to strengthen his power. however extraordinary this may appear, the same was the case in tahiti." but i ask further of those who dispute this, if savages are found with this fear of the supernatural world, after they have lost the idea of god, how do they get it? if not from tradition, then from reflection? but savages do not reason (lubbock, p. ). moreover, at p. , sir j. lubbock says, what really brings us very nearly to agreement, "how, for instance, can a people who are unable to count their own fingers, possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of a religion?" this is said with reference to a previous allegation, "that those who assert that even the lowest savages believe in a deity, affirm that which is entirely contrary to the evidence" (p. ). but there is a great concurrence of evidence that "even the lowest savages" believe in the devil. belief in the devil involves a realisation more or less obscure of the fallen angel, of the spirit of evil--and this for the savage who "cannot count his fingers" is as great an intellectual effort as would be, merely considered as an intellectual effort, a belief in the deity. on any theory of growth or development how could he ("the lowest savage") have got the idea? several writers who are quoted, whilst they deny the existence of any notion of religion among a particular people, mention facts which are incompatible with that statement. i may also say, parenthetically, that to detect or elicit the sentiment of religion in others, one must have something of the sentiment in ourselves; _e.g._ there is the instance of kolben (lubbock, p. ), "who, _in spite_ of the assertions of the natives themselves, _felt quite sure_ that certain dances _must be_ of a religious character, let the hottentots say what they will." now i must say there is great _à priori_ probability in the truth of kolben's conviction, although he was probably led to it merely by the insight of his own mind. let it be taken in connection with the following evidence in washington irving's "life of columbus," iii. - :-- "the _dances_ to which the natives seemed so immoderately addicted, and which had been _at first_ considered by the spaniards mere idle pastimes, were _found_ to be often _ceremonials of a serious and mystic character_." again--"peter martyn observes that they performed these dances to the chant of certain metres and ballads _handed down from_ generation to generation, in which were rehearsed the deeds of their ancestors. some of these ballads were of a _sacred_ character, containing their _traditional_ notions of theology, and the superstitions and fables which comprised their religious creeds." pritchard, "researches into phys. hist. of man" (i. p. ), quoting oldendorp, and speaking of the african negroes, says:--"at the annual harvest feast, which _nearly all_ the nations of guinea solemnise, thank-offerings are brought to the deity. these festivals are days of rejoicing, which the negroes pass with feasting and dancing." _vide_ also "hist. of indian tribes of north america, portraits from the ind. gal. in depart. of war at washington, by t. m'kenney (late ind. dep. wash.) and j. hall of cincinnati" (philadelphia, ). "dancing is among the most prominent of the aboriginal _ceremonies_; there is no tribe in which it is not practised. the indians have their _war_ dance and their _peace_ dance, their dance of _mourning for the dead_, their _begging_ dance, their pipe dance, their green-corn dance, and their wabana (an offering to the devil). each of these is distinguished by some peculiarity ... though to a stranger they appear much alike, except the last.... it is a ceremony and not a recreation, and is conducted with a seriousness belonging to an important public duty." at p. (lubbock) it is said, "admiral fitzroy never witnessed or heard of any act of a decidedly religious character among the fuegians." still, as sir john admits, "some of the natives suppose that there is a great black man in the woods who knows everything, and cannot be escaped." if this is not the devil, it looks very like him. again, p. , mr mathews says, speaking of the fuegians, "he sometimes heard a great howling or lamentation about _sunrise_ in the morning; and upon asking jemmy button what occasioned the outcry, he could obtain no satisfactory answer; the boy only saying, 'people very sad, cry very much.'" upon which sir john remarks, "this appears so natural and sufficient an explanation, that why the outcry should be 'supposed to be devotional' i must confess myself unable to see" ( ). now, if this was not their traditional notion and mode of prayer, degraded according to the measure of their degeneracy, the degeneracy is at least proved in another way, for, being still reasonable beings, they had, according to the account, congregated together to send up a lamentation, which, if it was not prayer, could be likened only to the moonlight howling of wolves. this mode of prayer resembles what father loyer and the missionary oldendorp (pritchard, i. ) tells us of the negroes. father loyer "declares that they have a belief in a universally powerful being, and to him they address prayers. every morning after _they rise_ they go to the river side to wash, and throwing a handful of water on their head, or pouring sand with it to express their humility, they join their hands and then open them, whisper softly the word 'exsuvais.'" oldendorp says (p. ): "the negroes profess their dependence on the deity, ... they pray _at the rising_ and setting of the sun,[ ] on eating and drinking, and when they go to war." compare also helps' "spanish conquest in america," i. :-- "the worship of the peruvians was not the mere worship of the sun alone as of the most beautiful and powerful thing which they beheld; but they had _also_ a worship of a far more elevated and refined nature, addressed to pachacamac, the soul of the universe, _whom_ they hardly dared to name; and when they were obliged to name this being, they did so inclining the head and the whole body, now _lifting_ up the eyes to heaven, now lowering them to the ground, and _giving kisses in the air_. to pachacamac they made no temple and offered no sacrifices, but they adored him in their hearts."[ ] [ ] after all, is there not something in their mode of prayer which recalls the language of psalm cxl., "dirigatur oratio mea sicut incensum in conspectu tuo: _elevatio manuum mearum sacrificium vespertinum_." if the reader will refer to bunsen's "egypt," &c. vol. i. p. , he will find "a man with uplifted arms" as the ideographic sign ( ) for "to praise, glorification," which is in evidence not only that it was the natural but the traditional mode. [ ] garcilasso de la vega's authority is so unimpeachable, and at the same time his testimony is so unmistakable on this point, that it will be as well to give his own words, as he was well acquainted with the peruvian traditions, through his mother, who was one of the yncas. he adds: "when the indians were asked who pachacamac was, they replied that he it was who gave life to the universe, and supported it; but that they knew him not, for they had never _seen_ him, and that for this reason they did not build temples to him, nor offer him sacrifices; but that they worshipped him in their hearts (mentally), and considered him to be an _unknown god_.... from this it is clear, that these indians considered him to be the maker of all things." hakluyt ed. of garcil. de la vega's "royal commentaries of the yncas," ed. c. markham, , i. . he further remarks that, whereas they hesitated to pronounce the name of pachacamac, "they spoke of the sun on every occasion." compare the accounts we have of the guanches. m. pegot ogier, "the fortunate isles" (canaries), , says (p. ), that a comparison of the chronicles of the conquest shows that, "far from being idolaters, the guanches worshipped one god, the creator and preserver of the world," and that (p. ), "in their worship, they _raised their hands_ to heaven, and sacrificed on the mountains by pouring milk on the ground from a _height_; their milk was carried in a sacred vase called _ganigo_." the name of their god, "achoron achaman" = "he who upholds the heaven and earth," and "achuhuyahan achuhucanac" = "he who sustains every one," has resemblances with "pachacamac" = "pacha," the earth; and "camac" participle of "camani," "i create."--(c. markham, hakluyt ed. of garcil. de la vega, i. .) at p. sir john somewhat too roundly asserts that "dr hooker tells us that the lepchas of northern india have _no religion_." turning to dr hooker's "himalayan journal," i find (i. ), "the lepchas profess no religion, _though_ acknowledging the existence of good and bad spirits.... both lepchas and limboos _had, before the_ introduction of lama boodhism from tibet, many features in common with the natives of arracan, especially in _their creed_, _sacrifices_, faith in omens, worship of many spirits, absence of idols, and of the doctrine of metempsychosis" (p. ). we have already seen (_supra_, p. ) that they had a very distinct tradition of the deluge; indeed there is much in the account of them which reminds us of the primitive monotheism. so, too, sir john asserts, p. , "once more dr hooker states that the khasias, an indian tribe, _had no religion_. col. yule, on the contrary, says that they have, but he admits that breaking hens' eggs is the principal part of their religious practice." it is true that dr hooker says (ii. ), "the khasias are superstitious, but have no religion;" he adds, however, "_like the lepchas, they believe in a supreme being_, and in deities of the grove, cave, and stream." it seems, however, that the only outward manifestation of their religion is in "breaking hens' eggs"! what can be more ludicrous! yet here, too, would seem to be a vestige of primitive tradition. we know (_vide_ wilkinson, "ancient egyptians," second series) how primitive truth was concealed under material symbols. gainet (i. ) also says, "even upon the hypothesis that these fragments of the egyptian cosmogony were lost, one of the hieroglyphics which this people has left us would suffice to convince us of their belief in a creator. it is the image of the god kneph, whom they represent with _an egg_ in his mouth; _this egg_ being the natural image of the world taking its birth from this divinity." again, p. , "in the mysteries of bacchus[ ] the dogma of the creation was proposed under the emblem of that celebrated _egg_, of which the poets have so often spoken, which contained the germ of all things." "_the egg_," says plutarch, "is consecrated to the sacred ceremonies of bacchus, as a representation of the author of nature who produces and comprehends all things in himself." there is a passage in athenagoras to the same effect. [ ] compare with pp. , . superstitions were also connected with cocks and hens in khasia. whether these again were connected with the symbolical representation of the egg can only be conjectured. it may possibly be that the representation had a common origin with the cock of apollo and the cock of Æsculapius, if, indeed, these were not also originally derived from the same primal conception. this would be only to renew the old classical dispute as to whether the hen proceeded from the egg, or the egg from the hen, which i take to be only the form in which the great question of the first cause was debated by the gentile world after their ideas of a creator had become indistinct, and with reference to this ancient symbol. however that may be, i wish to point out that this ceremonial use of the cock may be traced in europe, asia, and africa: _e.g. asia_--"the lepchas scatter eggs and pebbles over the graves of their friends.... among the limboos, the priests of a higher order than the lepcha, bijoras officiate at marriages, when a _cock_ is put into the bride-groom's hands, and a _hen_ into those of the bride. the phedangbo then cuts off the birds' heads, when the blood is caught in a plantain leaf, and runs into pools, from which omens are drawn" (dr hooker, "himalayan journal," i. ). _africa_--_vide_ pritchard, "phys. hist. of man," i. , , : "even the dead are not buried without sacrifices. a white hen is slain by the priest before the corpse comes to the grave, and the bier whereon the body lies is sprinkled with its blood. this custom was introduced by the nation of kagraut." _europe_--if any one will turn to the _illustrated london news_ of nov. , , he will find an account and illustration of a local ceremony peculiar to the village of gorbio in the maritime alps, in which the priest, on a particular day in the year, is solemnly presented with four cocks hung upon a halberd--together with an apple by the bachelors and spinsters of the village--from which it would seem to have had originally some connection, as we have seen above, with a marriage ceremony. wilson ("archæologia") remarks that the custom of "easter, or, in the north, paste eggs (pasch), was very prevalent in the north."[ ] [ ] compare the following passage in the bishop of chalons' "le monde et l'homme primitif" (with reference to gen. i.--the creation). at p. the bishop says, "that when the book of the law of manou and the mahabarata relate that god, who contains within himself his own principle in the first instance, the water, and gave it fecundity, and that the produce of this fecundity became _an egg_, ... can we see in this anything else than the fantastic translation of this phrase of scripture, 'l'esprit de dieu _couvait_ la surface des eaux--rouha elohim meharephet hal pene hammaïm.'" _vide_ also p. (as to universality of tradition) and p. as to text also. j. g. vance ("archæol." xix.) says, upon the mundane egg "the whole system of ancient religion was based" (j. b. waring, "stone monuments of remote ages," p. , ). it strikes me that it would be difficult to assign a christian origin for the custom. it must then have been a custom which the church diverted or sanctioned in giving it an innocent or christian application; in which case, in so far as it is pagan, it may possibly be traced to a common origin with the practices in khasia among the lepchas. it would extend the inquiry too far to follow sir j. lubbock through all the cases adduced by him. i will conclude, therefore, with his account of the andaman islander--who, with the australians, esquimaux, and fuegians, dispute the point of being considered the lowest of mankind. it is said of the andamans, "that they have no idea of a supreme being, no religion, or any belief in a future state of existence" (p. ). it is, however, casually mentioned that, "after death, the corpse is buried in a sitting posture." now this mode of burial is common to them with esquimaux (p. ), the australians (p. ), the maories (p. ), and the natives of the feegee islands (p. ), among whom we seem to get a clue to this strange mode of burial; "the fact is, _they_ (the feegee islanders) not only believe in a future state, but are persuaded that as they leave this life, so will they rise again." sir j. lubbock, in his "introduction to prof. nillson" (xxxiii.), says that this was the common mode of burial in the stone age; and prescott ("hist. of mexico," ii. ) says, "who can doubt the existence of an affinity, or at least an intercourse, between tribes, who had _the same strange habit of burying the dead in a sitting position_, as was practised to some extent by most if _not all_ of the aborigines from canada to patagonia?"[ ] but not only may it be presumed that they had an affinity and intercourse, but a common religious idea. it may be doubted then whether even the naked andaman is so entirely destitute of all religious impressions as he is supposed to be. [ ] i find, in _archæological journal_, no. , , p. , that corpses in a sitting posture were found under the long cromlechs in south jutland. i have already urged that if any vestiges of religion remain they must be considered as evidence of tradition and proof of degeneracy. i think the following reflection will tend to clench this argument. although it is obscure and disputed to what extent certain savages do retain glimmerings of religion, it is certain and admitted that some savages have religion and a religious ceremonial. now, as sir j. lubbock says, "how, for instance, can a people who are unable to count upon their fingers possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of religion." it is clear, then, that the lowest grade of mankind did not invent it, how then did the higher grade get it, "assuming always the unity of the human race"? finally, if man commenced with the knowledge of the devil, how did they proceed on to the idea of god? "the first idea of a god is almost always as an evil spirit" (lubbock, p. ). how then did they advance to the knowledge of the god of purity and love, or even of "the great spirit" of the indians?[ ] [ ] _vide_ dr newman's "grammar of assent," p. , _et seq._ let us at least know whether it is supposed that this was the order of knowledge ordained by divine providence, or whether it is believed that man in this manner developed the idea of god out of his own consciousness, his primitive, or perhaps innate, idea being, the conception of evil and of the evil spirit.[ ] sir john says (p. ), "there are no just grounds for expecting man to be ever endued with a sixth sense." but why not? if by his own mental vigour he can out of the primitive idea of evil generate the idea of good--what may we not expect? [ ] _per contra_, i invite sir j. lubbock's attention to the following passage from mr gladstone's "homer" (ii. ), "as _the derivative idea_ of sin depended upon that of _goodness_, and as the shadow ceases to be visible when the object shadowed has become more dim, we might well expect that the contraction and obscuration of the true idea of goodness would bring about a more than proportionate loss of knowledge concerning the true nature of evil. the impersonation of evil could only be upheld in a lively or effectual manner as the opposite of the impersonation of good; and when the moral standard of godhead had so greatly degenerated, as we find to be the case even in the works of homer, the negation of that standard could not but cease to be either interesting or intelligible. accordingly we find that the _process of disintegration_, followed by that of arbitrary reassortment and combination of elements, had proceeded to a more advanced stage _with respect to the tradition of the evil one_ than in the other cases." yet, if any one will compare the evidence which sir john has collected, he will come, i think, to the conclusion, that the invention and adaptability of the savage is very slight indeed. he will find (p. ) that the inhabitants of botany bay had fish-hooks, but no nets; those of western australia, nets but not hooks; that those who had the throwing-stick and boomerang, were ignorant both of slings and bows and arrows; that those who had retained the knowledge of the bow did not pass on to the use of the bola; that the northern tribes visited by kane were skilful in the capture of birds with nets, yet were entirely ignorant of fishing ( ); that the nearest approach to the south american bola is among the esquimaux ( ); that the throwing-stick is common only to the widely distant esquimaux, australians, and some of the brazilian tribes (_id._); that the "sumpitan" or blowpipe of the malays occurs only in the valley of the amazons. does not this point to a traditional knowledge of these things? nevertheless, this mass of evidence seems to have produced the very opposite conviction with sir j. lubbock. "on the whole, then, from a review of all these and other similar facts which _might have been_ mentioned, it seems to me most probable that many of the simpler weapons, implements, &c., have been invented independently by various savage tribes, although there are no doubt also cases in which they have been borrowed by one tribe from another" (p. ). instances in which they have been borrowed from each other are not infrequent, but then neither are they inconsistent with the theory of tradition; but the instances of invention _are limited to one_. (see for instance p. .) at p. we find--"although they (the esquimaux) had no knowledge of pottery, captain cook saw at unalashka vessels "of flat stone, with sides of clay, not unlike a standing pye." we here obtain an idea of the manner in which the knowledge of pottery _may have been_ developed. after using clay to raise the sides of their stone vessels, it _would_ naturally occur to them, that the same substance would serve for the bottom also, and thus the use of stone _might be_ replaced by a more convenient material." recollecting how roast pig came to be discovered, it cannot be said to be impossible that pottery may thus have been invented; but in this instance it might equally have been the rough substitute for the pottery of their recollection. besides, the proof is wanting that they ever did pass on to the invention of pottery. it may, for anything we know to the contrary, be in this inchoate state amongst them still. now, until further evidence is forthcoming, i shall take the liberty of maintaining that savages seem to show no inventive faculty or power of recovery in themselves.[ ] whatever they possess seems to be limited to what they have retained of primitive civilisation, and what they have retained of civilisation seems exactly in proportion to what they have retained of primitive religion. [ ] sir j. lubbock ("pre-historic times," p. ) says, "the largest erection in tahiti was constructed by the generation living at the time of captain cook's visit, and the practice of cannibalism had been recently abandoned." for these statements he refers to forster, "observations made during a voyage round the world," p. , a work i have not at hand, and also ellis, "polynesian researches," ii. p. . i have made the reference to the latter, but i do not find a syllable about cannibalism; and as to the other point ellis says, "in the bottom of every valley, even to the recesses in the mountains ... stone pavements of their dwellings and courtyards, foundations of houses and ruins of family temples, _are numerous_.... _all these relics_ are of the _same kind_ as those observed among the nations at the time of _their discovery_, evidently proving that they belong to the same race, though to a more populous era of their history." i draw attention to this inadvertence, as the above instances (two) are the most important of the four which sir j. lubbock adduces in support of his view. _vide_ appendix. in supporting this proposition i shall hardly have occasion to go beyond the four corners of sir j. lubbock's "pre-historic times." it is indeed a moot point with the travellers and ethnologists who have given their attention to the subject, which race of savages is "the lowest in the scale of civilisation." in this competitive examination a concurrence of opinion seems to decide in favour of the fuegian, who at any rate is miserable enough, living, when better food fails him, on raw and putrid flesh, eked out with cannibalism; and whose clothing (in central fuego) consists "in a scrap of otter skin, about as large as a pocket handkerchief, laced across the breast with strings, and shifted according to the wind" (darwin, _apud_ lubbock). their religion, as we have just seen, consists in a vague apprehension of the black man who lives up in the woods--and their prayer is something slightly elevated above the howl of the wolf. their civilisation, therefore, like their religion, may be considered to be at a "minimum." the australians have been called "the miserablest people in the world" (p. ). they are said to have "no religion or any kind of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have a dread of witchcraft" (p. ). here again we see their civilisation degraded _pari-passu_ with their religious belief--so, too, with the andaman (_vide supra_) and the tasmanian (p. ). when, however, we come to the inhabitants of the feegee islands, not greatly different from the people surrounding them, their characteristics, manners, and customs being partly nigrito and partly polynesian, although in the matter of cannibalism they are simply horrible, and eat their kind, not on any high notion that they are appropriating the spirit and glory of him whom they devour (_vide_ lubbock, ), but from a repulsive preference; yet they have a distinct notion of religion, with temples, and ceremonies, and we are told they look down upon the samoans because they had no religion. well, we find the feegeeans in a state of material civilisation exactly corresponding--they live in well built houses, to feet long and feet high, in fortified towns, with earthen ramparts, surmounted by a reed fence, &c. "their temples were pyramidal in form, and were often erected on terraced mounds like those of central america" (p. ). they had efficient weapons, agricultural implements, well-constructed canoes, and (p. ) pottery.[ ] [ ] the duke of argyll, balancing the conclusions of archbishop whately and sir j. lubbock ("primeval man," p. ), says, "whately defies the supporter of development to produce a single case of savages having raised themselves. sir j. lubbock replies by defying his opponent to show that it has not been done and done often. he urges, and urges as it seems to me with truth, that the great difficulty of teaching many savages the arts of civilised life, is no proof whatever that the various degrees of advance towards the knowledge of those arts which are actually found among semi-barbarous nations may not have been of strictly indigenous growth. _thus it appears that one tribe of red indians called mandans_ practised the art of _fortifying_ their towns. _surrounding tribes_, although they saw the advantage derived from this art, yet _never practised_ it, and _never learned it_." so far as to the fact. the duke of argyll continues the argument on the side of sir j. lubbock. but what i wish to indicate is that this crucial instance of the mandans may be triumphantly adduced in support of my proposition. why, these are the _very mandans_ among whom catlin and the prince maxmilian of neuwied discovered the curious commemorative ceremony of the deluge! _vide_ ch. xi. when, however, we come to the tahitians we find a very high state of civilisation. of their religion it is said--"that though they worshipped numerous deities," and sometimes sacrificed to them, "yet they were not idolators." "captain cook found their religion, like that of most other countries, involved in mystery and perplexed with apparent inconsistencies." they had a priesthood (p. ). "they believed in the immortality of the soul, and in two situations of different degrees of happiness somewhat analogous to our heaven and hell, though not regarded as places of reward and punishment; but the one intended 'for the chief and superior classes,' 'the other for the people of inferior rank.'" this is substantially captain cook's account of the tahitians, and allowing it to be exact, although i have a suspicion that a missionary would have put it somewhat differently,[ ] it shows a comparative state of religion very much elevated above anything we have yet seen. they had besides curious customs, such as that of eating apart. "they ate alone," they said, "because it was right, but why it was right they were unable to explain"--a custom which is common to them with the bachapins (p. ), (who, _by the way_, are also among the races classified as "of no religion"). although the inhabitants of tahiti present to us a much higher standard of religion and morality than we have yet met with, _also_ "they, on the whole, may be taken as representing _the highest stage_ in civilisation to which man has in any country raised himself, before the discovery or introduction of metallic implements" (lubbock, p. ). [ ] since writing the above, i have referred to wallis and bougainville. wallis could not discover "that these people had any kind of religious worship among them." bougainville says "that their principal deity is called 'ein-t-era,' _i.e._ 'king of _light_' or 'of the sun'; besides whom they acknowledge a number of inferior divinities, some of whom produce evil and others good; that the general name for these _ministering_ spirits is eatona; and that the natives suppose _two_ of these divinities attend _each affair of consequence in human life_, determining its fate either advantageously or otherwise. to one circumstance our author speaks in decisive terms. he says, when the moon exhibits a certain aspect which bears the name of 'malama tamai' (the moon is in a state of war), the natives offer up human sacrifices.... when any one sneezes, his companions cry out 'eva-rona-t-eatona,' _i.e._ 'may the good genius awaken thee,' or 'may not the evil genius lull thee asleep.'" captain king ("journal of transactions on returning to the sandwich islands," &c., pinkerton, xi. ) says of the sandwich islanders, "the religion of these people resembles in most of its principal features _that of the society and friendly islands_. their morais, their whattas, their idols, their sacrifices, and their sacred songs, _all of which_ they have in common with each other, are _convincing proofs_ that their religious notions are derived _from the same source_." it is impossible within these limits to investigate every case. i have taken the more salient cases, as instanced by sir j. lubbock, and contrasted them. i now wish to present the contrast in somewhat livelier form, and i do not see that i can do better than to present to the reader two scenes precisely similar, as to substance, yet under different conditions, in different parts of the world. the first shall be a description of "a whale ashore," by sir j. lubbock, among the australians; and the second, a description of the same scene by catlin ("last rambles, &c., among the indians of vancouver's island"). i must preface that sir j. lubbock says that the australians "have no religion nor any idea of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have great dread of witchcraft" (p. ). the following is the scene to which i refer:-- "they are not, so far as i am aware, able to kill whales for themselves, but when one is washed on shore it is a real godsend to them. fires are immediately lit to give notice of the joyful event.... for days they remain by the carcase, rubbed from head to foot with the stinking blubber, gorged to repletion with putrid meat, out of temper from indigestion, and therefore engaged in constant frays, suffering from a continuous disorder from high feeding, and altogether a disgusting spectacle."--_capt. grey, apud lubbock_, p. . this is one picture; now for the other. it may be said that it is only the different idiosyncrasies of the writers transferred to their pages--that one is the narrative of _jean qui pleure_, &c., or of the _médicin tant pis_, &c.; but i do not think so. mr catlin premises by telling us that the scene occurred when on a visit with the chief of the klah-o-gnats, of whom he says that he knew at first sight by his actions that he was "a chief, and by the expression of his face that he was a good man," and whom his companion described as "a very fine old fellow; that man is a gentleman; i'd trust myself anywhere with that man." of their religion, the chief himself told catlin that on that western coast of vancouver's island "they all believed in a great spirit, who created them and all things, and that they all have times and places when and where they pray to that spirit, that he may not be angry with them." one day came the startling announcement that a whale was ashore. "the sight was imposing when we came near to it, but not until we came around it on the shore side had i any idea of the scene i was to witness. some hundreds, if not thousands of indians, of all ages and sexes, and in all colours, were gathered around it, and others constantly arriving. some were lying, others standing and sitting in groups; some were asleep and others eating and drinking, and others were singing and dancing." the monster was secured by twenty or thirty harpoons, to which ropes were attached. "these were watched, and at every lift of a wave moving the monster nearer the shore, they were tightened on the harpoons, and at low tide the carcass is left on dry land, a great distance from the water.... the dissection of this monstrous creature, and its distribution amongst the thousands who would yet be a day or two in getting together, the interpreter informed us, would not be commenced until all the claimants arrived." several immense baskets had been brought in which to carry away the blubber. the possession of these baskets made all the difference in the scene which followed. to some this will be a sufficient explanation. how, then, did the others come to know nothing of baskets? truly there are people who cannot be made to see the effect of "character upon clover." i rely, however, upon the broad lines of the contrast. the absence in this latter scene of the disgusting sights above so graphically described--their quick use of the harpoons--and the general order and equity of the distribution. "a whale ashore," mr catlin says ("last rambles," p. ), "is surely a gift from heaven for these poor people, and they receive it and use it as such." whilst quoting from catlin, i must be allowed to refer my readers to the very striking proof (p. ) he incidentally affords of the theory of degeneracy in his comparative illustration of the heads of the alto and bas peruvian, and of the crow and modern flathead:-- "the crow of the rocky mountains and the alto-peruvian of _the andes_, being the two great original fountains of american man, to whom all the tribes point as their origin, and on whom, of course, all the tribes have looked as the _beau ideals_ of the indian race. the flathead (letter _c_), aiming at the crow skull (like the copyists of most fashions), has carried the copy into a caricature; and the bas-peruvian (_d_), aiming at the _elevated frontal_ of the mountain regions, has squeezed his up with circular bandages to equally monstrous proportions." also _vide_ prescott's "mexico," ii. , th ed., . "anatomists also have discerned in crania disinterred from the mounds, and in those of the inhabitants of the high plains of _the cordilleras_ an _obvious difference_ from those of the more barbarous tribes. this is seen especially in the _ampler forehead_, intimating a decided intellectual superiority.... such is the conclusion of dr warren, whose excellent collection has afforded him ample means for study and comparison." before quitting this subject i must revive a question which i think sir john lubbock will admit, if he turns to the evidence dispersed in his pages, is at present involved in some obscurity. it is simply this, "how did the savage come by the knowledge of fire?" sir john lubbock suggests (p. ) "that in making flint instruments sparks would be produced; in polishing them it would not fail to be observed that they became hot, and in this way it is easy to see how the two methods of obtaining fire may have originated.... in obtaining fire _two totally different_ methods are followed; _some_ savages, as for instance the fuegians, using percussion, while others, as the south-sea islanders, rub one piece of wood against another.... opinions are divided whether we have any trustworthy record of a people without the means of obtaining fire" (p. ). to this point i shall recur. i will now give sir john's quotation from mr dove: "although fire was well known to them (the tasmanians), some tribes at least appear to have been ignorant whence it was originally obtained, or how, if extinguished, it could be relighted. in all their wanderings," says mr dove, "they were particularly careful to bear in their hands the materials for kindling a fire. their memory supplies them _with no instances_ of a period in which they were obliged to draw upon their _inventive powers_ for the means of resuscitating an element so essential to their health and comfort as flame. how it came originally into their possession is unknown. _whether_ it may be viewed as the _gift of nature_ or the product of art and sagacity, they _cannot recollect a period when it was a desideratum_" ("tasmanian journal of natural science," i. , _apud_ lubbock, p. ).[ ] [ ] the "popul vul" (pp. - , paris, , _vide_ baring gould, "origin and development of religious belief," p. ) gives an instance--or embodies a reminiscence--of a people who had lost the tradition of fire. "then arrived the tribes perishing with cold, ... and all the tribes were gathered, shivering and quaking with cold, when they came before the leaders of the iniches.... great was their misery. 'will you not compassionate us,' they asked; 'we ask only a little fire. were we not all one, and with one country, when we were first created? have pity on us.' 'what will you give us that we should compassionate you,' was the answer made to them.... it was answered, 'we will inquire of tohil'" (their fire-god); and then follows the horrible condition of human sacrifices to be offered to their fire-god tohil, with reference to which mr b. gould quotes it. _vide supra_, p. , tradition among the sioux indians, of fire having been sent to them from heaven after the deluge. in colden's "five indian nations," p. , i find an indian chief says: "now before the christians arrived, the general council of the five nations was held at onondaga, where there has from _the beginning_ a _continual fire_ been kept burning; it is made of two great logs, _whose fire never extinguishes_." now, if it is a tenable opinion--and at least these are the statements of father gobien, and of alvaro de saavedra, and of commodore wilkes, to whose testimony i shall revert, that there are some tribes who are unacquainted with fire--that there are some who have and some who have not the art of rekindling fire, then arises the question whether those who have it not have lost the art, or whether those who now possess it invented it. if they did not invent it, they must have held it as a tradition, until, reaching a lower point of degradation still, they lost it. mr dove's testimony to this effect is very strong. what an emblem that never-extinguished torch of primitive tradition! we find the same tradition among the american indians. "the chippeways and natchez tribes are said to have an institution for keeping up a perpetual fire, certain persons being set aside and devoted to this occupation" (lubbock, p. ). freycinet certainly declares that peré gobien's statement, that the inhabitants of the ladrone were totally unacquainted with fire until magellan burnt one of their villages, to be "entirely without foundation." "the language," he says, "of the inhabitants contains words for fire, burning, charcoal, oven, grilling, boiling, &c." again, as against commodore wilkes' assertion as an eye-witness, that he saw no appearance of fire in the island of fakaafo, and that the natives were very much alarmed when they saw sparks struck from flint and steel, we are told that "hale gives a list of faakaafo words in which we find _asi_ for fire" (lubbock, p. ). however, sir john does not attribute to this argument the same force that mr tylor does, as _asi_ is evidently the same word as the new zealand _ahi_, which denotes light and heat as well as fire.[ ] if, then, we have positive evidence that they have not the thing (wilkes), and also evidence that they have the word (_vide_ note), does not this prove that it is a tradition which they have lost? and is there not the presumption that they have lost it through degeneracy? [ ] i find, in falkner's "description of patagonia," &c., (falkner resided near ° ' in those parts), "that in the vocabulary of the moluches, although the word for 'fire' is 'k'tal,' the word for 'hot' is '_asee_,' 'cold' 'chosea.'" but sir j. lubbock admits "asi" is the same word as "ahi," and if "ahi" denotes light and heat, _it also_ signifies fire. should we not expect, at least ought it to cause surprise, that the word for "fire," where poverty of language may be presumed, should stand also for light and heat? in the andaman vocabulary (earl's "papuans") "ahay" is their word for the sun--in which the two senses seem to combine. in shortland's "comp. table of polynesian dialects" ("traditions of the new zealanders"), i find _ahi_ means fire, and not light. ---------+------------+------------+-------------+----------------- |new zealand.| raratonga. | navigator's | sandwich islands | | | (savaii). | (hawaii). +------------+------------+-------------+----------------- _fire_ = | ahi.[c] | ai. | afi. | ahi. ---------+------------+------------+-------------+----------------- [c] and as would appear from shortland (_id._ pp. , , "_ao_," a seemingly cognate though not identical word with "ahi," is the new zealand word for light. but in bougainville's "vocabulary of faiti (otaheite) island," i find again "eaï," _i.e._ their word for _fire_, whereas their word for light, not darkness, is "eouramaï" and "po" = day light), whilst they have a distinct word for "hot" = "ivera"--"era" being the sun. compare sanscrit "aghni" = ignis, fire.--_vide_ card. wiseman, "science and revealed religion," p. , th ed. appendix to chapter xii. compare the following account of the new zealanders:-- "shut out from the rest of the world, without any to set them a pattern of what was right or to reprove what was wrong, is it surprising that morally they should have degenerated, even from the standard of their forefathers? they were not always addicted to war, neither were they always cannibals; _the remembrance of the origin_ of these horrid customs is _still preserved amongst them_. if the progressive development theory were true, aboriginal races should have progressively advanced; every successive generation should have added some improvement to the one which preceded it; but experience proves the contrary. a remarkable instance of this may be adduced in the fact, that the new zealanders have retrograded, even since the days of captain cook; they then possessed large double canoes, decked, with houses on them similar to those of tahiti and hawaii, in which, traditionally, their ancestors arrived; it is now more than half a century since the last was seen. tradition also states that they had finer garments in former days and of different kinds; that, like their reputed ancestors, they made cloth from the bark of trees--the name is preserved, but the manufacture has ceased. there are remains also in their language which would lead us to suppose that, like the inhabitants of tonga, they once possessed a kingly form of government, and though they have now no term to express that high office, still they have words which are evidently derived from the very one denoting a king in tonga. their traditions, which are preserved, also establish the same fact, and perhaps one of the strongest proofs is their language; its fulness, its richness, and close affinity not only in words but in grammar to the sanscrit, carries the mind back to a time when literature could not have been unknown." from "te ika a maui," or "new zealand and its inhabitants," by the rev. richard taylor, m.a., f.g.s., a missionary in new zealand for more than thirty years, pp. , . chapter xiii. _noah and the golden age._ taking as the basis of this theory that the law of nations forms part of a tradition, that the stream of this tradition has never ceased to flow, and that the diffusion of its waters has ever been the source and condition of fecundity; and further, that this tradition in its main current has run in the channels which dr newman (_infra_, p. ) has indicated--for although there are other reservoirs, they have become stagnant, and exist like the fresh-water lake, the bahr-i-nedjig (_vide_ rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. ), whose waters are "fresh and sweet" so long as they communicate with the euphrates, but when they are cut off become "unpalatable," so that those "who dwell in the vicinity are no longer able to drink of it"--taking these various facts as the basis, we come inevitably to the question--whence this tradition arose, and upon what authority and sanction it rests? in answer to this i do not hesitate to affirm that presumptively it goes back to the commencement of human history, and more demonstrably to that commencement--which for historical and practical purposes is sufficient--the era of noah. i propose now to inquire how near this theory can be brought to the facts. a fairer opportunity could hardly have been afforded for ascertaining the force and fulness of primitive tradition than the discovery of the american continent; yet this opportunity was totally disregarded by the spanish conquerors,[ ]--rough men, and for the most part the offscourings of spain,--and its evidences were but sparsely and negligently collected by the explorers of a different character who followed at a later date. [ ] the works of garcilasso de la vega, valera, p. de cieza, and de sahagun must be excepted. as an instance of the neglect which we have reason to regret, the former gives an account of one only (the raymi) of the four annual festivals of the peruvians.--hakluyt soc. ed. ii. . he gives the name, however, of another--namely, the _si_tua. something, however, of primitive tradition has been thus preserved (_vide_ help's "spanish conquest of america," i. , , ; prescott, "mexico," i. ). indeed, the approximation to the biblical narrative is so close that the suspicion would be quite reasonable that missionaries of whom we have no record had found their way to these people before the continent became known to us; or that the people themselves were of jewish descent; or that they had left the asiatic mainland subsequently to the preaching of st thomas the apostle. manco capac (_vide infra_), according to this conjecture, may have been one of these missionaries; or it may even be that in the venerable image which the description calls up we see in vision the apostle himself. when, however, the description is compared with the traditions i have collated of a patriarchal character--still more remote and venerable, "him of mazy counsel--saturn" (hesiod), i shall ask the reader to decide whether the more improbable conjecture, measured according to time and distance, has not the greater weight of evidence. i proceed to place in juxtaposition a recapitulation of the classical and oriental traditions, and the quotations from helps above referred to. "one peculiar circumstance, as humboldt remarks, is very much to be noted in the ancient records and traditions of the indian nations. in no less than three remarkable instances has superior civilisation been attributed to the sudden presence amongst them of persons differing from themselves in appearance and descent." [as to the argument to be derived from colour and appearance, _vide supra_, p. .] "bochica, a white man with a beard, appeared to the mozca indians in the plains of bogota, _taught them how to build and to sow_, formed them _into communities_, gave an outlet _to the waters of the great lake_ [compare _supra_, p. , chronology], and having settled the government, civil and ecclesiastical, retired into a monastic state of penitence for two thousand years.[ ] [ ] probably a tradition of the penitence of adam. "in like manner manco capac, accompanied by his sister mama ocllo, descended amongst the peruvians, gave them _a code of admirable laws_, reduced them into communities, and then ascended to his father the sun."[ ] (a confusion with the tradition of enoch, parallel to the like confusion in the person of xisuthrus,[ ] unmistakably identified with noah in the babylonian tradition.) [ ] here, the admixture of sun-worship, as identifying the mythology at any rate with the hamitic and "cuthite," directly militates in favour of my view against the conjecture that manco capac was a missionary. [ ] _vide_ also the like confused tradition of nimrod (assyria) and menes (egypt), bunsen, p. . "amongst the mexicans there suddenly appeared quetzalcohuatl, the green-feathered (_i.e._ elegant) snake" (compare with chaldæan fish-god, p. ), "a white and bearded man of broad brow, dressed in strange dress, a _legislator_ who recommended severe penances, lacerating his own body with the prickles of the agave and the thorns of the cactus, but who dissuaded his followers from human sacrifices. while he remained in anahuana it was a saturnian reign; but this _great legislator_, after moving on to the plains of cholulas, and governing the cholulans with wisdom, passed away to a distant country" [if this looks more like the movement among them of some apostolic missionary, it is also in keeping with the journey of bacchus, "travelling through all nations," &c.], "and was never heard of more." it is said briefly of him, that "he _ordained sacrifices_ of flowers and fruit, and stopped his ears, when he was spoken to of war."[ ] such a saint is needed in all times, even in the present advanced state of civilisation in the old world."[ ]--_help's "spanish conquest of america,"_ i. . [ ] if an identity has been established between quetzalcohuatl and manco capac (_vide_ prescott "conquest of peru," i. ), it will appear that this legislator, who shut his ears when he was spoken to of war, did nevertheless leave them admirable maxims (compare with indian (aryan) maxims, p. ) and laws of war, _e.g._ prescott, "peru," p. . compare extract from davies--_vide supra_, preface. "the peruvian soldier was forbidden to commit any _trespass on the property_ of the inhabitants whose territory lay in the line of march. from the moment _war was proclaimed_," &c., "in every stage of the war he was open to _propositions for peace_, and although he sought to reduce his enemies by carrying off their harvests and destressing them by famine, the peruvian monarch allowed his troops to commit no unnecessary outrage on person or property." it is not to the point that these rules were not always observed. [ ] compare _supra_, p. , note to manou (bacchus). i have shown (p. ) that calmet (and other authorities of the same date might be adduced) identifies saturn with noah. among other proofs he points to the tradition of saturn devouring his children (with the exception of three), as a distorted tradition of the destruction of mankind according to the prediction of noah, upon the canon of interpretation, "that men are said often to do what they do not prevent, or even what they predict." i have also shown that this conjecture receives attestation from a fragment of sanchoniathon's (phoenician),important whether regarded as a more ancient parallel tradition, or as the same tradition nearer the fountain-head. without recapitulating the other points of resemblance (_vide_ ch. x.), let us compare what is said of saturn with what is said of bochica, manco capac, &c. "under saturn," says plutarch, "was the golden age." "saturn is represented with a scythe, as the _inventor of_ agriculture." virgil (Æn. viii. ) describes saturn as bringing the dispersed people from the mountains and _giving them laws_. i have also drawn attention to the _saturnalia_ as connecting _bacchus_ with _saturn_. now cicero tells us that one bacchus was king of _asia_, and author of _laws called subazian_; and bacchus is also said to _have travelled_ through _all nations doing good_, in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man. noah has also been identified with janus, and under janus as under saturn was the golden age; and it is, moreover, said (_vide_ p. ), "that in the time of janus all families were full of religion and holiness." he is said to have been _the first that built temples_ and _instituted sacred rites_, and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices. [this, in common with what is said of quetzalcohuatl is again possibly a combined tradition of enoch and noah.] let both these traditions be compared with berosus' account of hoa, or the fish-god (_vide_ rawlinson, "anct. mon." i. p. , and _supra_, p. ). "he is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all arts (or of any kind of art), and of the _polity of cities_, the _construction_ and _dedication of temples_, the _introduction of laws_, to have taught them geometry, and _to have shown them by example_, the _mode of sowing the seed_ and gathering the _fruits of the earth_; and along with them to have tradated _all the secrets which tend to harmonise life_. and no one else in that time was found so experienced as he."[ ] [ ] compare with gen. vi. , viii. , "and god spoke to noe, saying"; also vi. , ix. ; and gen. viii. --"and noe built an altar unto the lord, and taking of all cattle"; and ix. --"and noe, a husbandman, began to till the ground, and planted a vineyard." also ecclesiasticus xliv. , , , , "the covenants of the world were made with him." compare also with the "oracula sybillina," _supra_, p. . in the traditions, however, which connect noah with the saturnian reign,[ ] it appears to me that threefold confusion has to be disentangled. [ ] it may be well here to recall to recollection the well-known lines of virgil-- "ultima cumæi venit jam carminis ætas: magnus ab integro seclorum nascitur ordo, jam redit et virgo, redeunt saturnia regna jam nova progenies coelo dimittitur alto." _eclogues_ iv. i. there is a tradition of a golden and of a silver age frequently transfused. ii. when thus transfused there is often along with the tradition of a golden or silver age trace of a subordinate and incongruous tradition of a state of nature as a state of barbarism--both at the early commencement of things. iii. there is a double tradition of the succession of ages, the one ante-, the other post-diluvian. * * * * * i. the tradition of the golden age is primarily the tradition of paradise, to which succeeded in gradation of degeneracy a silver, brass, and iron age. of this line of tradition we have seen distinct trace in sanchoniathon (_supra_, p. ). but there is also, as we have just seen, a tradition of another golden age connected with saturn, janus, &c., and of this perhaps we have the most direct testimony in the chinese tradition. "the chinese traditions," says professor rawlinson (bampton lectures, ii., quoting "horæ mos." iv. ) "are said to be less clear and decisive (than the babylonian). they speak of a 'first heaven' and age of innocence when 'the whole creation enjoyed a state of happiness; when everything was beautiful, everything was good; all things were perfect in their kind. whereunto succeeded a _second heaven, introduced by a great convulsion_, in which the pillars of heaven were broken, the earth shook to its foundations, the heavens sank lower towards the north, the sun, moon, and stars changed their motions, the earth fell to pieces, and _the waters enclosed within its bosom burst forth with violence and overflowed_,'" &c. here, then, is a tradition of a second heaven, or a saturnian reign, following a convulsion which will perhaps be conceded to be a tradition of the _universal_ deluge (_vide_ p. ), and which links the tradition of the saturnian reign with the patriarch noah?[ ] [ ] boulanger ("l'antiquité devoilée," i. ), recognises, although it perplexes him, the tradition which places the gold and silver age after the deluge--"à la suite de cet évenement, les traditions de l'age d'or, et du regne des dieux paroissent encore plus bizarres;" also _id._ iii. ; also . also , "ce n'est donc point un état politique qu'il faut chercher dans l'age d'or, ce fut un état tout religieux. chaque famille pénétrée des jugemens d'en haut, vecut quelque temps sous la conduite des pères qui rassembloient leurs enfans." it is thus that seneca depicts the golden age. _vide_ p. . i ask now to be allowed to look at the same tradition from a different point of view. i have elsewhere shown (p. ) that according to the operation of natural causes everything in the primitive ages would have led to dispersion, but however probable or even certain these conjectures may be, we know as a fact that they did not operate (gen. xi. , , ) for some three hundred years or more, probably until after the death of noah. does not this look as if mankind were kept together for a period, in order that they might become settled in their ideas and confirmed in their maxims, under the influence and direction of the second father of mankind, whose direct communications with the most high had been manifest, and whose authority necessarily commanded universal respect--"him of mazy counsel, saturn?" (hesiod, "theog.")[ ] [ ] it might be a sufficient answer to say that they did not operate because a miraculous intervention ordained it otherwise; but if we seek the explanation in natural causes they will be found such as will exactly confirm the theory. the causes which lead to dispersion are the necessities of the pastoral life. if there, then, was no dispersion, the conclusion is that during the three or four centuries after the deluge mankind were mainly engaged in husbandry--"and noe, a husbandman, _began_ to till the ground." but husbandry is the first and essential condition of civilisation. we have seen that mr mill, mr hepworth dixon, &c., believe that mankind _slowly_ arrived at this stage through the intermediate stages of shepherd and hunter. on the contrary it would appear that they _started_ in this career. again, given the conditions which genesis describes--families living in patriarchal subjection to a chief who had the knowledge of husbandry--cultivation would be the natural consequence; for the one and only hindrance to cultivation, supposing the knowledge, is insecurity. "most critical of all are the causes which conduce to agriculture, agriculture at once the most fruitful and the most dangerous expedients for life. he who tills the soil exposes his valuable stores to the malice or enmity of the whole world. any marauder," &c. ("miscell." by francis w. newman, ). but as the conditions described in genesis exclude the probability of such interruption--agriculture would have been the preferable resource of life--and so it would have continued until circumstances led to the extension of the pastoral mode. so far, then, as we are brought to regard the different modes of life as progressive or successive (i believe that even at this early stage they were contemporaneous), the order of the succession according to the theory now in vogue must be reversed; and we must regard mankind as first a community of husbandmen, gradually extending themselves as shepherds, to be finally still more dispersed in some of their branches as hunters. if this theory appears far-fetched and fanciful, let it be recollected, on the other hand, that there has long subsisted a tradition among mankind of a code of nature as connected with a state of nature, which has to be accounted for (_vide_ chap. ii.) and when we consider how the impulsion which a nation receives at the commencement of its history continues--how much, for instance, at the distance of a thousand years we resemble our saxon ancestors of the eighth century, and even our ancestors of the german forest in identity of character, sentiment, and institution--we must not make the lapse of centuries an impassable barrier to a belief in the traditions of mankind in the early periods of history. let us also, in regarding the golden or silver age, glance beyond it to that iron age which ultimately followed it, in which the world, becoming crowded and also corrupted, many families and tribes collected together for warfare, and in which one nation swallowed another until all came to be absorbed, at least on the asiatic continent, into one or two great empires, which again contended for supreme dominion. an age of universal war, of many sorrows, of great perturbations, but one in which the process of dispersion was stayed, and mankind settled down within certain definite lines of demarcation, which in great part have continued to this day. no wonder, then, that men turned to each other in these dark days, and talked with regret of the simple agricultural and pastoral age which had passed, and which came variously to be called, in their recollection, the second heaven, the arcadian era, the saturnia regna,[ ] the golden age. neither is it surprising that the idea of a state of nature misconceived as to the facts, and of a law of nature dimly remembered and distorted by human perversity, has so often obtained among mankind in modern times and also in antiquity. this is a point which i shall discuss with reference to the historical evidence in another chapter. [ ] "and truly there is a sap in nations as well as in trees, a vigorous inward power, ever tending upwards, drawing its freshest energies from the simplest institutions, and the purest virtues and the healthiest moral action.... and if of nations we may so speak, what shall we say of the entire human race, when all its energies were, in a manner, pent up in its early and few progenitors; when the children of noah, removed but a few generations from the recollections and lessons of eden, and possessing the accumulated wisdom of long-lived patriarchs, were marvellously fitted to receive those strange and novel impressions, which a world, just burst forth in all its newness, was calculated to make?"--card. wiseman, "science and revealed religion," lect. ii. it is to this period that i am inclined to refer the belief in an age of high chivalry and virtue, with subsequent degeneracy, widely diffused in the legends of king arthur. i will surrender my opinion whenever the historical information respecting that monarch shall have been more exactly determined. * * * * * ii. the conception of the state of nature (chap. ii.) as a basis of theory and belief arose in the main out of the speculations of lawyers and philosophers; yet it is curious that we frequently come upon a concurrent yet always subordinate tradition of equality associated with the tradition of a golden age which, if the age of noah, we know _aliunde_ to have been a state of hierarchical subordination to a patriarchal chief; and, along with a reminiscence of a time of peaceful prosperity at the commencement of things, the tradition of the primitive age as one of great barbarism and privation, man living on acorns, &c. that these testimonies of tradition are incongruous and confused, i am bound to admit; but then, looked at from the point of view of tradition, they seem to me to have their explanation. if this happens to be deemed somewhat fanciful, i contend that the test in all these cases must be--( .) does the key fit the lock? ( .) is there any other key producible?[ ] i venture, then, to suggest (p. ) that the notion of the primitive equality may be traced through the bacchanalian traditions; and the tradition of a primitive age of great privation i believe to be the recollection of that brief but probably sharp period of suffering during which mankind clung to the mountains in distrust of the divine injunction and promise, until brought into the plains by noah.[ ] (_vide_ p. .) [ ] "the evidence, therefore, of the meaning of this part of the homeric system is like that which is obtained, when, upon applying a new key to some lock that we have been unable to open, we find it fits the wards and puts back the bolt."--gladstone, "homer and the homeric age," ii. . [ ] plato's testimony to this tradition is remarkable (plato de legibus, lib. i.) boulanger extracts the passage with reference to the golden age (iii. ). (_vide_ also grote's plato, iii. .) plato says--"that it is a tradition that there was formerly a great destruction of mankind caused by inundations and other general calamities [are not these calamities those to which horace alludes, i. ode iii., "semotique prius tarda necessitas lethi corripuit gradum," from which only a few escaped?] those who were spared led a pastoral life _on the mountains_. we may suppose," he adds, "that these men possessed the knowledge of some useful arts, of some usages to which they had previously conformed." plato indeed goes on to tell how this knowledge must have been lost, and one reason he gives is, "mankind remained _many_ centuries on the _summits_ of the highest mountains--fear and remembrance of the past did not permit them to _descend into the plains_." strabo (_apud_ boulanger, iii. ) also discusses this question. he says that mankind descended into the plains at different periods according to their courage and sociability (lib. xiii.) varro (de re rustica, lib. xiii. cap. i.) says they were a long time before they descended." now, in these passages from plato, strabo, and varro, there is distinct testimony to the fact of mankind remaining on the mountains after the deluge, and their subsequent inferences are drawn from the fact that they supposed them to have remained there a long time. is not this merely that they have recorded one tradition to the exclusion of another--viz., that mankind were brought into the plains by saturn, in accordance with the indications in genesis ix. , "and noe, a husbandman began to till the ground." compare _supra_, p. , and p. ; bryant, "mythology," iii. p. , following [st] epiphanius, says the descendants of noah remained years in the vicinity of ararat--_i.e._ five generations. moreover, the characteristics of this subsequent period, when mankind were living together in groups of families under the mild sway of the patriarch, when "all families were good" (p. ), and when ... "with abundant goods midst quiet lands, all willing shared the gatherings of their hands." was just that semi-state of nature which it only required the bacchanalian tradition on the one side to transform into the fiction of the state of savage and absolute equality, or the touch of poetry to convert into the golden reminiscence on the other. in this way, in the person of the patriarch noah, the fiction of a state of nature was brought into contact with the tradition of a law of nature and a law of nations, regarded as the law of mankind "when men were nearest the gods." * * * * * iii. i have already noticed (p. ) the double tradition of the succession of ages, the tradition from the fragment of sanchoniathon, upon which mr m'lennan relies, being ante-, that of hesiod partly ante- and partly post-diluvian. the following lines of hesiod, for instance, bearing allusion to the confusion of tongues and the shortening of life, being plainly post-diluvian:-- "when gods alike and mortals rose to birth, the immortals formed a _golden race_ on earth of _many-languaged men_; they lived of old, when saturn reigned in heaven; an age of gold. "the sire of heaven and earth created then a race the third, of _many-languaged men_, unlike the silver they; of brazen mould, strong with the ashen spear, and fierce and bold."[ ] [ ] with reference to the stone age, _vide_ p. . and again, of the iron race which followed them, he says-- "jove on this race of many-languaged men speeds the swift ruin which but slow began; for scarcely spring they to the light of day e'er age untimely strews their temples grey." i must here, too, point out how curiously the testimonies of tradition and science coincide.[ ] _both_ are agreed as to the transition from a brass (bronze) to an iron age; but in one it is referred to as evidence of degeneracy--in the other, the transition is adduced in proof of progress. but the fact is established by the evidence of tradition, as certainly as by the conclusions of science, and is referred to accordingly by sir john lubbock ("pre-historic times," p. ). [ ] concerning the evident tradition of the dispersion in hesiod, "theog." v. , _vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. , _et seq._ the lines of lucretius are certainly remarkable-- "arma antiqua, manus ungues dentesque fuerunt, et lapides, et item sylvarum fragmina rami posterius ferri vis est, ærisque reperta, sed prior æris erat, quam ferri cognitus usus. quo facilis magis est natura et copia major Ære solum terræ tractabunt, æreque belli miscebant fluctus."--_de rerum natura_, lib. . but here i cannot help thinking the tradition has reference rather to the use than to the knowledge of metals. we have seen, for instance, that the cultivation of the ground commenced with noah--the fact being attested both by scripture and tradition. now, in the above passage, although the primitive weapons are referred to, as of stones, yet it is said "æreque solum terræ tractabunt," an averment which no doubt has reference to the brazen age; yet nothing forbids the construction, which on other grounds seems the more natural that the land was from the first so cultivated,[ ] and that in strictness the commencement of the brazen age was identical with the commencement of cultivation, although in the mind of the poet it had reference to the introduction of bronze weapons and implements of war. moreover, the _sylvarum fragmina rami_ may point to the period immediately preceding cultivation, when the human race clung to the mountains. the testimony of scripture to the point seems plain. not only does the construction of the ark appear to imply the use of metals, but the reference to tubalcain, "who was a hammerer and artificer in every work of brass and iron" (gen. iv. ), seems to put the antediluvian knowledge of metals beyond question. [ ] this appears to me to be borne out by the sanscrit root "_ar_, to plough," being seemingly cognate with "æs, _ær_is," and with the produce corn = "_aris_ta," aroum, aratrum, greek [greek: arsmêa], &c. sanscrit, "ar, to plough," _vide_ note in brace's "ethnology." _vide_ also max müller, "science of language," _id._ _vide_ also max müller, "chips," ii. p. . "the name of the plough (in egypt) was [greek: zhbix], _ploughed land_, appears to _have been_ [greek: art], a word still traced in the arabic 'hart,' which has the same import; and the greek [greek: arêtron] and roman _aratrum_ appears to indicate, like the [greek: aroura], an egyptian origin."--_wilkinson's ancient egyptians_, i. . if "ar," as in "[greek: aristos]," should be proposed as the primitive root, it must be after rejection of the evidence of secondary derivation; but does not our common parlance still run to the comparison of virtues with metals, "good as gold," "hard as iron," "true as steel." why then at a later period should not brass have become the expression for _best_ in the brazen or warlike age, when courage was the virtue principally regarded? if this is accepted, "[greek: arês]," or mars, so far from being the root, would be a tertiary derivation--the embodiment and deification of what was regarded as best in the brazen age. gladstone ("homer," ii. p. ), shows that mars was a deity of late invention, and not one of the traditionary deities. rawlinson, _vide supra_, p. , identifying ares with nimrod. bunsen ("egypt," iii. ), says in a note, "arya" in indian means lord. its original meaning was equivalent to "upper noble." the popular name "arja" is derived from it, and means "descended from a noble." i will only add that "ari" in egyptian means "honourable" (in nofruari). but "ar" might mean to plough; for the aryans were originally and essentially an agricultural, and therefore a peasant race. agriculture at the time we are contemplating would have been the most honourable employment (_supra_, p. ), it would not have been "an agricultural and therefore peasant" employment till insecurity brought about the state of dependence and vassalage. the aryans would have been noble as being of the japhetic race. in the first commencement after the deluge, unless miraculously supplied, there would have been no grain or bread food until time had been allowed for its production. during this interval acorns, &c., may have been the only food. perhaps it was so ordained to incite to the new permission to eat flesh meat. on the other hand, i ask, in those ages when men were supposed to live exclusively on acorns, was not flesh meat eaten,--were there no hunters? had man no control over the domestic animals? that in a peaceful period, and the intercommunication of families previous to the dispersion implies a state of peace (ch. xiii.), in a period in which, if we follow the other traditions, "all families were good," and were under the rule of an old man, "who held his hands to his ears when they spoke to him of war," it is not surprising to learn either that they had no weapons, or that they were of the simplest description. it is characteristic of an age which piques itself upon the perfection of its artillery, and whose greatest triumphs and inventions have been in the science of destruction, to look back upon a totally different age which happened only to have stone weapons, as necessarily an age of barbarism. but from our point of view it must be regarded not as an age of barbarism, but of prosperity,--not as a state of equality, but of the subordination of the members of the family to each chief, and of families relatively to each other; an age of much mental vigour and spiritual intuition, and, so far from being a period of misery, it left reminiscences of happiness such as lingered long in the memory of mankind. chapter xiv. _sir h. maine on the law of nations._ dr newman in his inaugural discourse as rector of the dublin university ("on the place held by the faculty of arts in the university course"), which i think never received the attention it deserved, has with a few masterly touches sketched the history of western civilisation, which in its main lines may be considered to run into, and be found identical with, the tradition i am now regarding--with this difference, that dr newman regards western civilisation in its progressive, whereas we are concerned with its traditive aspects. dr newman says: "i take things as i find them on the surface of history, and am but classing phenomena (i have nothing to do with ethnology). looking, then, at the countries which surround the mediterranean seas as a whole, i see them from time immemorial the seat of an association of intellect and mind such as to deserve to be called the intellect and mind of human kind. starting and advancing from certain centres, till their respective influences intersect and conflict, and then at length intermingle and combine, a common thought has been generated, and a common civilisation defined and established. egypt is one starting-point, syria another, greece a third, italy a fourth (of which, as time goes on, the roman empire is the maturity, and the most intelligible expression), north africa a fifth, ... and this association or social commonwealth, with whatever reverses, changes, and momentary dissolutions, continues down to this day.... i call it, then, pre-eminently and emphatically human society, and its intellect the human mind, and its decisions the sense of mankind and its humanised and cultivated states--civilisation in the abstract; and the territory on which it lies the _orbis terrarum_, or the world. for unless the illustration be fanciful, the object which i am contemplating is like the impression of a seal upon the wax; which rounds off and gives form to the greater portion of the soft material, and presents something definite to the eye, and pre-occupies the space against any second figure, so that we overlook and leave out of our thoughts the jagged outline or unmeaning lumps outside of it, intent upon the harmonious circle which fills the imagination within it." ("there are indeed great outlying portions of mankind, ... still they are outlying portions and nothing else, fragmentary, &c., protesting and revolting against the grand central formation of which i am speaking, but not uniting with each other into a second whole.") the same _orbis terrarum_, which has been the seat of civilisation, has been the seat of the christian polity. "the natural and the divine associations are not indeed exactly coincident, nor ever have been." "christianity has fallen partly outside civilisation and civilisation partly outside christianity; but on the whole the two have occupied one and the same _orbis terrarum_.... the centre of the tradition is transferred from greece to rome.... at length the temple of jerusalem is rooted up by the armies of titus, and the effete schools of athens are stifled by the edict of justinian.... the grace stored in jerusalem, and the gifts which radiate from athens, are made over and concentrated in rome. this is true as a matter of history. rome has inherited both sacred and profane learning; she has perpetuated and dispensed the traditions of moses and david in the supernatural order, and of homer and aristotle in the natural. to separate these distinct teachings, human and divine, is to retrograde; it is to rebuild the jewish temple and to plant anew the groves of academus; ... and though these were times when the old traditions seemed to be on the point of failing, somehow it has happened that they have never failed.... even in the lowest state of learning the tradition was kept up;" ... and this experience of the past we may apply to the present, "for as there was a movement against the classics in the middle ages, so has there been now.... civilisation has its common principles, and views, and teaching, and especially its books, which have more or less been given from the earliest times, and are in fact in equal esteem and respect, in equal use, now, as they were when they were received in the beginning. in a word, the classics and the subjects of thought and study to which they give rise, or to use the term most to our present purpose, the arts have ever on the whole been the instruments which the civilised _orbis terrarum_ has adopted; just as inspired works, and the lives of saints, and the articles of faith and the catechism have been the instrument of education in the case of christianity. and this consideration you see, gentlemen (to drop down at once upon the subject of discussion which has brought us together), invests the opening of the schools in arts[ ] with a solemnity and moment of a peculiar kind, for we are but engaged in reiterating an old tradition, and carrying on those august methods of enlarging the mind, and cultivating the intellect and ripening the feelings, in which the process of civilisation has ever consisted."--_dr newman on civilisation._ [ ] _i.e._, "the teaching and government of the university remained in the faculty of arts," and not in the faculty of theology or law or modern philosophy. i have for my own purposes of condensation been obliged to take certain unpardonable liberties of transposition in the above abstract, for which i can only plead my necessity. i should not in any case have so exceeded in quotation, were this very masterly address at all accessible, but, as far as i know, it is only to be found in the _catholic university gazette_, november , . in order to show the full significance of these extracts from dr newman, and also their bearing on points still to be discussed, i will append the following suggestive passage from sir h. maine's "ancient law," p. :--"it is only with the progressive societies that we are concerned, and nothing is more remarkable than their extreme fewness. in spite of overwhelming evidence, it is most difficult for a citizen of western europe to bring thoroughly home to himself the truth that the civilisation which surrounds him is a rare exception in the history of the world. the tone of thought common among us, all our hopes, fears, and speculations, would be materially affected, if we had vividly before us the relation of the progressive races to the totality of human life. it is indisputable that much the greatest part of mankind has never shown a particular desire that its civil institutions should be improved since the moment when external completeness was first given to them by their embodiment in some permanent record.... there has been a material civilisation, but instead of the civilisation expanding the law, the law has limited the civilisation." i must also express my belief that if mr lowe had read the lecture of dr newman, he would have very much modified the views he enunciated in his lecture on "primary and university education," at the philosophical institution at edinburgh.--_times_, november , . before examining sir h. maine's view on the law of nature and the law of nations, it will perhaps facilitate the inquiry if i gather up, out of the evidence which has accumulated in the previous chapters, such conclusions as will show how we stand in regard to sir h. maine's general theory. i. accepting sir h. maine's dictum that "the family and not the individual was the unit of ancient society;" and, in a certain sense, the further position, that it is difficult "to know where to stop, to say of what races of men it is _not_ allowable to lay down that the society in which they are united was originally organised on the patriarchal model,"[ ] i venture to maintain against sir h. maine the continuance of family life in a quasi state of nature, before either the development or creation of the state. [ ] "ancient law," p. . ii. but in maintaining that there was a period in human history anterior to the formation of governments, i am far from asserting--on the contrary, i distinctly repudiate the notion--that there was ever an ante-social state. society is complete within the family circle;[ ] and society in any wider organisation is only the requirement and consequence of imperfection and corruption within the family, or of collision between families. undoubtedly, there were instances in which the state grew up imperceptibly out of the extension of the family into the patriarchal system;[ ] but these instances will probably have occurred among the families who remained stationary, whether by right of seniority, or by virtue of superior power, at the central point from which the dispersion commenced. so long, however, as family government sufficed, there would have been nothing but the family; but when mankind increased, and actual relationship died out, disputes must have multiplied and become complicated--not only between individuals but between families; hence the necessity of state government--hence the necessity of an appeal on the part of individuals from the family to some supreme authority. this would be the first mode in which governments would have arisen among those who came under the action of the dispersion. but even here--assuming the family groups to have descended from the same progenitor--we see first the family, first property, then the state. the second mode would be where several families, differing in language and race, came together and formed states.[ ] although they would have come together on unequal and varying conditions, yet they would necessarily have come together on some conditions, and for the mutual protection of their rights, their property, and their personal security. in all such cases there would have been something of a recognition and adjustment of rights, something of the nature of a compact more or less explicit, but much more formal and explicit in this mode than in the former. in any case, the end and intention of the formation of states and governments would have been the security of rights, as cicero tells us:--"hanc enim ob causam maxime _ut sua tuerentur_ respublicæ civitatesque constitutæ sunt. nam etsi, duce naturæ, congregabantur homines, _tamen spe custodiæ rerum suarum_ urbium præsidia quærebant." but does not sir h. maine himself supply similar testimony? referring to the notions of "primitive antiquity," he says:-- "how little the notion of injury to the community had to do with the earliest interferences of the state, through its tribunals, is shown by the curious circumstance, that in the original administration of justice the proceedings were a close imitation of the series of acts which were likely to be gone _through in private life_ by persons who were disputing, but who afterwards suffered their quarrel to be appeased. the magistrate carefully simulated the demeanour of a _private arbitrator, casually called in_."--chap. x. ; _vide_ also pp. , . [ ] it by no means follows that god does not will, and did not foreordain society in its wider organisation, according to the conditions and circumstances out of which it arose. [ ] sir h. maine says (p. ):--"the points which lie on the surface of history are these: the eldest male parent--the eldest ascendant--is absolutely supreme in his household. his dominion extends to life and death, and is as unqualified over their children and their _houses_ as over his slaves. the flocks and herds of the children are the flocks and herds of the father." [this is not borne out by what we read of abraham and lot, esau and jacob--_e.g._, "but lot also, who was with abraham, _had_ flocks of sheep, and herds and tents. neither was the land able to bear them, that they might dwell together" (gen. xiii.) "and the possessions of the parent, which he holds in a representative rather than a proprietary character, are equally divided at his death among his descendants in the first degree, the eldest son sometimes receiving a double share, under the name of birthright, but more generally endowed with no hereditary advantage beyond an honorary precedence." the separation then commenced with the division of the inheritance; and whether it was ever an equal division, and not proportioned to the respective ages of the sons, or determined by other motives, or again, a division of different kinds of property, may be open to question; but at any rate a division took place, and a separation of families was consequent upon it. the division was not only the sign and token, but the efficient cause of the separation; and so not only the dispersion of families, but separate ownerships commenced with the descendants in the first degree. [ ] compare plato, "leges;" grote's "plato," iii. . iii. we come to the conclusion that the collation of the sentiments and maxims, as preserved in tradition by the families who had coalesced into states, would have formed the basis of the morality and of the jurisprudence of the states so constituted; and that in every case of oppression appeal would have been made to their pre-existing and natural rights. iv. that whilst certain traditions--the tradition of religion, for instance--would have been perhaps more faithfully preserved in the patriarchal governments of the east, and we find evidence of this in the monotheism of the persians; on the other hand, if there was a tradition of a law common to all nations, it would be more likely to be preserved in states formed by the amalgamation of many distinct families and races.[ ] [ ] "in that old heathenism of the roman world, into which it was the will of god that the christian religion should be introduced by the apostles, there were then diverse and often conflicting elements. there was a good element, which came from god; there was a thoroughly bad element, which came from satan; and there was a corrupt element, which was the fruit of the workings of unregenerate human nature upon society, and upon the objects of sense and intelligence with which man is placed in relation. the good element we see embodied in great part of the laws and institutions of the ancient world, as also in much of the literature, the poetry, the philosophy of greece and rome, which literature consequently--after having been purified, and as it were baptized--has always been used by the christian church in the education of her children. this element, i say, was originally the gift of god, the author of nature, to man, the offspring of reason and conscience, the tradition of a society of which god was himself the founder. it enshrined whatever fragments of primeval truth as to god, the world, and man himself, still lingered, in whatever shape, among the far-wandering children of adam. st paul alludes to this element (acts xvii. ); ... and his words altogether seem to imply that god watched over it, supported it and fostered it, as far as men were worthy of it, and that it might even have been expanded into a perfect system of natural religion and of reasonable virtue, had men been grateful enough to earn larger measures of grace from god, who left not himself without witness in his daily providence, and was not far from 'any one of his children.'"--"_four sermons_," by the rev. henry j. coleridge, s. j. burns & oates. . p. . ( .) v. that such was the origin and history of the greeks and romans--the two nations which formed the nucleus of the _orbis terrarum_ within which, as dr newman tells us (_supra_, p. ), is found the centre of christianity and the seat of civilisation. vi. that, whether the roman law goes back in tradition, or, as sir h. maine will say, in fiction only--the fact remains, that it does so trace itself back to remote antiquity, and that the roman law subsists to this day as the foundation of most of the codes of europe, and has extended its ramifications to all; and that outside the circle of its influence other nations equally retrace their codes to remote antiquity, and, as a rule, to revelations made to their earliest founder. that nothing is more striking in ancient times than the manner in which their codes, which are the embodiment of laws previously in tradition, were held as a sacred deposit. this was the reason why the laws of the medes and the persians might not be altered; and that, according to the laws of the visigoths, no judge would decide in any suit unless he found in their code a law applicable to the case; and perhaps we may find trace of it in the phrases familiar to us--_nolumus leges angliæ mutari_, _stare super vias antiquas_, and so, too, in the _ita scriptum est_, which, as sir h. maine says (p. ), silenced all objections in the middle ages. vii. that the fact of a tradition of "a law common to all nations" and of "a lost code of nature," is in accordance with the historical and scriptural evidence which would render such a tradition probable. * * * * * sir h. maine, with whose argument i now propose to deal, is, as far as i am aware, the most conspicuous opponent of the common belief in the "law of nations;" and yet it appears to me that we shall find testimony to the tradition even in the very terms in which he repudiates it. i must at least consider this a recognition on his part of the strength and inveteracy of the opposite view. in the following extracts i shall suppose my readers fresh from the perusal of sir h. maine. sir h. maine says ("ancient law," pp. , ), that the further "we penetrate into the primitive history of thought, the further we find ourselves from the conception of law of any sort." and again, "it is certain that in the infancy of mankind, no sort of legislation, not even a distinct author of law, is contemplated or conceived of." now if sir h. maine had said nothing more, i should have felt bound to take this assertion upon his authority; but sir h. maine adds:--"law has scarcely reached the footing of custom; it is rather a habit. it is, to use a french phrase, 'in the air,'" [is not sir h. maine here hunting for a phrase which shall not imply that it is in tradition?] "the only authoritative statement of right and wrong is a judicial sentence after the facts, _not one presupposing a law which has been violated_, but one which is breathed for the first time by a higher power into the judge's mind at the moment of adjudication." this passage may be adduced in evidence of the tradition of noah and his heavenly-inspired judgments, but apparently it is in contradiction to the view of a law of nature, since it supposes the judge to decide through direct inspiration, or in the way of _stet pro ratione voluntas_, and not with reference to a "law which has been violated." now, sir h. maine comes to his conclusion upon the ground of the "themistes" of the homeric poems. "the earliest notions connected with the conception ... of a law or rule of life are those contained in the homeric words 'themis' and 'themistes'" (p. ). "the literature of the heroic ages discloses to us law in the germ under the 'themistes,' and a little more developed in the conception of 'dike'" (p. ). if this were so, law according to the conception of "themistes" and law according to the conception of "dike" were never contemporaneous, but necessarily successive, or rather progressive; but at page we read, "the homeric word for a custom in the embryo is _sometimes_ 'themis' in the singular, more often 'dike,' the meaning of which visibly fluctuates between 'a judgment' and a 'custom' or 'usage.' '[greek: nomos],' a law ... does not occur in homer."[ ] [ ] the word '[greek: nomos]' is found in the hymn to apollo, v. , attributed to homer [the term [greek: themistes] also, v. ]--and in hesiod, op. et dies, v. .--goguet, ii. . in the hymn to apollo it is only applied to song. the greeks had the same word, however--viz. [greek: nomoi], as for laws, songs, and pastures--that is to say, the term law, [greek: nomos], is applied to the instrument of its transmission, and to what would then have been its most ordinary subject matter. this seems to me in evidence of its primitive use. take, moreover, the following passage in the first book of the iliad, v. :-- [greek: 'all' ek toi ereô, kai epi megan horkon omoumai nai ma tode skêptron, to men oupote phylla kai ozous physei, epeidê prôta tomên en oressi leloipen, oud' anathêlêsei; peri gar rha he chalkos elepse phylla te kai phloion; nyn aute min hyies achaiôn en palamês phoreousi, dikaspoloi, hoite themistas pros dios heiryatai; ho de toi megas essetai horkos.] --_heyne's homer_, i. v. - . "but this i say, and with an oath confirm, by this my royal staff, which never more shall put forth leaf nor spray since first it left upon the mountain side its parent stem, nor blossom more; since all around, the axe hath lopped both leaf and bark, and now 'tis borne, _emblem of justice_, by the sons of greece, _who guard the sacred ministry of law before the face of jove!_ a mighty oath. the time shall come when all the sons of greece shall mourn achilles' loss," &c. --_lord derby's translation_, - . here we have the term "dike" not merely in embryo, but in the compound word "dikaspoloi," administrators of justice, implying something akin to judges, and a condition of things in which law was reduced to a state in which there was something to guard and administer. not only so, but the staff, the "emblem of justice," is borne by them when they _guard_ the "themistes" before the gods. it will not only be curious to discover, but the discovery of vestiges in modern times of the old traditional modes and ceremonial will throw light upon the administration of justice in ancient times. i dare say many other instances may be indicated. i will adduce the following:--if my readers will turn to the _pall mall gazette_ (july , ), they will find an account of "the manx thing," or "the ancient custom of the ruler, his council, and the commons meeting together in the open air to proclaim the law to the people standing around." "the lieutenant-governor is the representative of the king, and takes an oath to deal truly and uprightly between our sovereign lady the queen and her people," "and as indifferently betwixt party and party _as this staff now standeth_." "he is assisted by two demesters or supreme judges, who must deem the law truly, as they will answer to the lord of the isle." here, as in homer, there is reference to an emblem and a ceremonial repugnant to the notion that (_infra_) "every man under the patriarchal despotism was practically controlled by a regimen not of law but of caprice." mr adams describes the following scene in one of the islands in the archipelago off the mainland of korea--"the chief, who really has something very noble and majestic about him, as is generally the case with men in high authority among the natives of these islands.... the demeanour of those of his countrymen who surrounded him was as free and independent as his own was reserved and dignified.... in his hand he held _his badge of office, a wand of ebony with a green silken cord entwined about it like the serpent of Æsculapius_."--"travels of a naturalist in japan and manchuria," by arthur adams, f.l.s. . compare also with _infra_, p. . well, allow that there need not be as yet the metaphysical conception of law, or law as a positive enactment, embracing indifferently a variety of cases. eliminate the word "law." instead of the phrase "law of nature" substitute "natural justice," and "the sense of right and wrong;" and it suffices that we detect "usage," "custom," right; for even if it were conceded that right is a post-homeric rendering of [greek: dikê], yet "custom" and "usage" in their definition would have been in recognition of pre-existing right. this becomes more clear if we consider the alternative opinion. sir h. maine says that "under the patriarchal despotism," "every man was practically controlled in all his actions by a regimen not of law but of caprice" (p. ). the judgments, then, of the patriarchal times were mere "caprice," and rights were defined without reference to any sense of justice. from "themistes" of caprice they would proceed to legislation upon "caprice," and, ultimately, to codes which would represent nothing but a digest of the precedents of "caprice." it is difficult, then, to understand in what way and at what point the sense of justice, the conception of "dike," originated, and most of all, if this is true, it is difficult to account for the "themistes" being regarded as akin to inspiration, as well as for the veneration with which, we have the authority of sir h. maine (_vide infra_) for saying, that archaic law was held, and, moreover, for the persistent tendency to revert to the past.[ ] [ ] i feel very much supported in my argument by the following passage from mr gladstone's "homer" (ii. ): "mr grote says that 'the primitive import' of the words [greek: hagathos], [greek: esthlos], and [greek: kakos], relates to power and not to worth; and that the ethical meaning of these is a later growth, which 'hardly appears until the discussions raised by socrates, and prosecuted by his disciples.' i ask permission to protest against whatever savours of the idea that any socrates whatever was the patentee of that sentiment of right and wrong which is the most precious part of the patrimony of mankind. the movement of greek morality with the lapse of time was chiefly downward and not upward.... but as to the words [greek: hagathos] and [greek: kakos], the case is far more clear; and here i ask, can it be shown that homer ever applies the word [greek: hagathos] to that which is morally bad? or the word [greek: kakos] to that which is morally good? if it can, _cadit quæstio_; if it cannot, then we have advanced a considerable way in proving the ethical signification.... in the word [greek: dikaios], however, we have an instance of the epithet never employed except in order to signify a moral or a religious idea. like the word _righteous_ among ourselves, it is derived from a source which would make it immediately designate duty as between man and man, and also as it arises out of civil relations. but it is applied in homer to both the great branches of duty. and surely there cannot be a stronger proof of the existence of definite moral ideas among a people, than the very fact that they employ a word founded on the observance of relative rights to describe also the religious character. it is when religion and morality are torn asunder, that the existence of moral ideas is endangered." if, however, we follow sir h. maine in his illustration taken from english law, we shall find ourselves reinstated in our original convictions. sir h. maine says (p. ), "an englishman should be better able than a foreigner to appreciate the historical fact that the 'themistes' preceded any conception of law;" but at page , he says, "probably it will be found that _originally_ it was the received doctrine that somewhere _in nubibus_ [q. "in the air"], or in _gremio magistratuum_ there _existed_ a complete, coherent, symmetrical body of english law, of an amplitude sufficient to furnish principles which would apply to any conceivable combination of circumstances." if, then, we take the analogy of the english law, we come also to the identical conclusion for which i contend--viz. that the "themistes," whether they partook of the character of commands or of judgments, _were_ still in recognition of a "law which was violated." if the "themistes" had no reference to a law which was violated; if they were mere caprice, i have already asked, whence arose the regard for ancient law among the nations of antiquity? and i may add, how came it about that their ideas of justice were inseparably connected with the notions of morality? does sir h. maine deny either of these facts? on the contrary, he affirms them:-- "quite enough, too, remains of these collections ['ancient codes'] both in the east and in the west, to show that they mingled up religious, civil, and merely moral ordinances _without any regard_ to differences in their essential character; and this is consistent with all we know of ancient thought from other sources, the _severance_ of law from morality, and of religion from law, belonging very distinctly to the later stages of mental progress" (p. ). and at p. , "much of the old law which has descended to us, was preserved merely _because it was old_. those who practised and obeyed it did not pretend to understand it; and in some cases they even ridiculed and despised it. _they offered no account of it except that it had come down to them from their ancestors._" does sir h. maine dispute the persistency of tradition in general? no. at p. , _vide supra_, i have quoted a passage in which he explicitly maintains it. i must observe further, that in the very passages in which he repudiates the notion of a "law of nature," two things irresistibly transpire--( .) that there was a persistent tradition in ancient society of a law of nature; ( .) that this tradition was invariably associated with the golden age, _e.g._:-- "after nature had become a household word in the mouths of the romans, the belief gradually prevailed among the roman lawyers,[ ] that the old _jus gentium_ was in fact _the lost code of nature_, and that the prætors, in framing an edictal jurisprudence on the principles of the _jus gentium_, were gradually restoring a type from which law had only departed _to deteriorate_" (p. ). "but then, while the _jus gentium_ had little or no antecedent credit at rome, the theory of a law of nature came in surrounded with all the prestige of philosophical authority, and invested with the _charms of association with an elder and more blissful condition of the race_" (p. ). "the law of nature confused the past and the present. logically it implied a state of nature which had once been regulated by natural law; yet the juris-consults do not speak clearly or confidently of the existence of such a state, which indeed is little noticed by the ancients _except_ when it finds a poetical _expression in the fancy of a golden age_" (p. ). "yet it was not on account of their simplicity and harmony that these finer elements were primarily respected, but on the score of their _descent from the aboriginal reign of nature_" (p. ). "yet it is a remarkable proof of the essentially _historical_ character of the conception that, after all the efforts which have been made to evolve the code of nature from the necessary characteristics of the natural state [_i.e. à priori_] so much of the result is just what it would have been if men had been satisfied to adopt the dicta of the roman lawyers without questioning or reviewing them. setting aside the conventional or treaty law of nations, it is surprising how large a part of the system is made up of pure roman law" (p. ). [because the roman law was in the main stream of the tradition.][ ] [ ] either, then, the roman lawyers fell back upon the old traditions, or else the lawyers introduced the superstition of the law of nature, and then became victims to the superstition they had invented. in any case, the "belief" in "the lost code of nature gradually prevailed." i am presently going to discuss with sir h. maine how far in the latter case such a belief is likely to have prevailed. [ ] _vide_ also sir h. maine, p. : "it is important, too, to observe that this model system, unlike many of those which have mocked men's hopes in later days, was _not entirely the product of imagination_. it was never thought of as founded on quite untested principles. the notion was that it underlay existing law, and must be looked for through it. its functions were, _in short, remedial_, not _revolutionary_ or anarchical. and this unfortunately is the exact point at which the modern view of a law of nature has often ceased to resemble the ancient." i now come to what i may call the exposition of sir h. maine's argument proper, and, although i feel the full difficulty of doing this, in the case of so subtle and able a writer, i shall endeavour to condense into as short a space as possible whatever is material to sir h. maine's position. sir h. maine says (p. ):-- "i shall attempt to discover the origin of these famous phrases, law of nations, law of nature, equity, and to determine how the conceptions which they indicate are related to one another. the most superficial student of roman history must be struck by the extraordinary degree in which the fortunes of the republic were affected by the presence of foreigners under different names on her soil. the causes of this immigration are discernible enough at a later period, for we can readily understand why men of all races should flock to the mistress of the world; but the same phenomenon of a _large population of foreigners_ and denizens meets us in the _very earliest_ records of the roman state--no doubt the instability of society in ancient italy.... it is probable, however, that this explanation is imperfect, and it could only be completed by taking into account those active commercial relations, which though they are little reflected in the military traditions of the republic, rome appears certainly to have had with carthage and with the interior of italy in pre-historic times.... in the _early roman republic_ the principle of the absolute exclusion of foreigners pervaded the civil law no less than the constitution. the alien or denizen could have no share in any institution supposed to be coeval with the state. he could not have the benefit of the quiritarian law, &c.... still neither the interest nor the security of rome permitted him to be quite outlawed.... moreover, at no period of roman history was foreign trade entirely neglected. it was therefore probably half as a measure of policy and half in furtherance of commerce that jurisdiction was first assumed in disputes to which the parties were either foreigners or a native and a foreigner. the assumption of such a jurisdiction brought with it the immediate necessity of discovering some principles on which the questions to be adjudicated upon could be settled.... they refused, as i have said before, to decide the new cases by pure roman civil law. they refused, no doubt, because it seemed to involve some kind of degradation, to apply the law of the particular state from which the foreign litigant came. the expedient to which they resorted was that of selecting the rules of law common to rome, and to the different italian communities in which the immigrants were born. in other words, they set themselves to form a system answering to the primitive and literal meaning of _jus gentium, i.e._ law common to all nations. _jus gentium_ was, in fact, the sum of the common ingredients in the customs of the old italian tribes, for they were _all the nations_ whom the romans had the means of observing, and who sent successive swarms of immigrants to the roman soil.... the _jus gentium_ was, accordingly, a collection of rules and principles determined by observation _to be common_ to the institutions which prevailed among the various italian tribes. the circumstances of the origin of the _jus gentium_ was probably a sufficient safeguard against the _mistake of supposing_ that the roman lawyers had any special respect for it. it was the fruit in part of their disdain of all foreign law, and in part of their disinclination to give the foreigner the advantage of their own indigenous _jus civile_. it is true that we, at the present day, should probably take a very different view of the _jus gentium_.... we should have a sort of respect for rules and principles so universal.... but the results to which modern ideas conduct the observer, are, as nearly as possible, the reverse of those which were instinctively brought home to the primitive roman. what we respect or admire, he disliked or regarded with jealous dread. the points of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection were exactly those which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration as accidental and transitory--the solemn gestures ... the endless formalities, &c.... the _jus gentium_ was merely a system forced on his attention by a political necessity. he loved it as little as he loved the foreigners from whose institutions it was derived, and for whose benefit it was intended. a complete revolution in his ideas was required before it could challenge his respect.... this crisis arrived when the greek theory of a law of nature was applied to the practical roman administration of the law common to all nations."--_sir h. maine's ancient law_, - . sir h. maine's theory may be summarised as an attempt to identify the "law of nations" with the history of roman law, leaving out of sight the tradition of it which may be traced in other nations. now, although there is nothing, as napoleon used to say, which one nation hates more than another nation--and this certainly holds true of the roman people--yet it is scarcely possible to point to any which, from the circumstances of its origin, would have been less predisposed to look in the abstract with disdain upon the laws and customs of surrounding nations, however much they may have hated them as concrete nationalities; and least of all would they have had this feeling for the institutions of the latins, a people whom, from their peculiar connection with themselves, they would principally have had as residents among them. sir h. maine seems unable to shake off the prepossession, which the analysis of roman law, to the exclusion of other evidence, would tend to lead him, viz. that the romans were a homogeneous people, and we have just heard him speak of their "own indigenous _jus civile_." this indigenous _jus civile_ was compounded, as was their nationality, of many miscellaneous elements. whatever truth may be attached to the legends as to the foundation of rome, and they are various, it cannot well be disputed that there was a strong trace of sabine[ ] and etruscan,[ ] in addition to the original miscellaneous roman, or, if not miscellaneous, pure latin element; to which, in any case, in the subsequent reigns a large latin immigration must be added, when rome, through the conquest of alba longa, became the head of the latin league, and the infusion of a greek in addition to an etruscan element in the dynasty of the tarquins. the latin league has its significance over and above its bearing upon the present argument; and to this i shall presently revert. but to go no further, does not the existence of the latin league[ ] sufficiently account for the large influx of strangers into rome, on account of which sir h. maine sees the necessity for an extension of the roman jurisprudence? but, if this be so, his theory must fall to the ground; for, if the roman element was distinctive at all, and was a pure latin population, miscellaneously collected by romulus, and not a miscellaneous population of various tribes--it was latin _quâ_ roman. how then, supposing the roman element to have become predominant, did it come to contemn the latin element and the law of the latins? that it excluded them is another thing, or that they were kept in a subordinate position, and not admitted to the full privileges of naturalisation, is quite conceivable on other grounds; but that there should have existed a feeling of contempt for the laws and customs of the people among whom, if their legends were true (and at any rate we have nothing else to go upon), was found the cradle of their race, is hard to understand, yet this assumption is essential to sir h. maine's position. [ ] i shall consider that dr dyer has fairly reinstated a large portion of early roman history until i see his arguments refuted. without endorsing his opinion i may quote what dr dyer says ("hist. of the city of rome," p. ) in evidence of the admixture of the sabine element:-- "the importance of the sabine element at rome has not perhaps been sufficiently considered. the late m. ampere has discussed the subject with great learning and ability in his interesting work, 'l'histoire romaine à rome.' he remarks that not only did the romans borrow from the sabines almost all their religious and much of their political and social organisation, their customs, ceremonies, arms, &c., but also that the far greater part of the primitive population of rome was sabine, that most of the men who played a part in roman history were of sabine extraction, and that what is called the latin tongue contains a strong infusion of sabine elements." [ ] evidences of the etruscan element are so marked, that niebühr, in his first edition, asserted the etruscan origin of the city. he subsequently, however, came to the conclusion that "there was so much in the roman state that was peculiar to rome and latium, as to be incompatible with the supposition of rome being an etruscan colony."--_appendix to travers twiss' epitome of niebühr._ [ ] a federal union existed between the roman people and the latins in the reign of servius tullius (niebühr, i. ch. xxv.) "the old latin towns had retained their ancient rights, and the colonies, that together with them formed the latin nation, had all received the _full freedom_ of rome, and had become _municipia_ a full century before the consul junius norbanus introduced the franchise of the latin freedmen.... the towns on the north of the po, inhabited by a mixed population of italians and celts speaking latin,... were termed the 'lesser latium.'... a law which regarded latin citizens as foreigners, and applied to them the principle that the child follows the condition of the baser parent, _can only have_ related to this inferior latium." (niebühr, ii. ch. vi.) again, the roman family and tribal system, with their principle of agnatic relationship, was in all probability part of their organisation for war: it was the secret of their strength. grant that they shrank from applying the principles of their domestic law, which in their application would have involved in time an organisation in conformity with it, we can at once see why they withheld the principles of their jurisprudence without withholding it in mere scorn of an alien nationality. we rather see influences which would have predisposed them to look with reverence on the laws and customs of a people among whom they must have known that they had sprung, even if there had been no tradition of a law common to all nations "of the lost code of nature," a notion which the edicts of the prætors of the later period would hardly have generated if it had had no foundation in tradition. if you change the _venue_ to etruria, the same arguments will apply. in proof, i quote the following passage from a competent, if somewhat antiquated ( ) authority--(pastoret, "hist. de la legislation," xi. )--more especially as it mentions a circumstance to which i do not remember that sir h. maine adverts, and which would make it a matter of some difficulty for the prætors to introduce laws and principles of their own making: "peu amis de la guerre, ancus martius voulut du moins ajouter à l'art de la faire quelques formalités _pour la declarer; elles étoint d'usage avant lui_ chez des _peuples voisins_; ce sont les lois féciales, lois que nous avons déjà fait connoître (c. iii. ). l'adoption des lois étrusques par les romains reçoit une force nouvelle d'un fait conservé par dénys et halicarnasse (liv. ii. § ); c'est que _après_ l'abolition de la monarchie on exposa dans la place publique de rome _à la vue de tous les citoyens_ toutes _les lois et coutûmes_ de la patrie, avec les lois étrangeres nouvellement _introduites, afin_ que le droit publie ne changeât pas en même temps que les pouvoirs du magistrat." sir h. maine says, at p. , "the prætors early laid hold on _cognation_ as the _natural_ form of kinship, and spared no pains in purifying their system from the older conception [_i.e._ older according to roman law]. their ideas have descended to us, but still traces of agnation are to be seen in many of the modern rules of succession after death." the reader will find (from p. to )[ ] in sir h. maine the distinction between cognation and agnation very completely and lucidly stated. i may say roughly, however, that cognation is the form of relationship which we acknowledge and which is familiar to us, descending in graduated degrees, including males and females alike, from common ancestors. agnatic relationship is rigidly confined to the male lines, excluding the connections and descendants of females, upon the maxim, _mulier est finis familiæ_, though including unmarried females on the side of the father. [ ] _vide_ also de fresquet, "droit romain," ii. - . now, i venture to think that the argument which may be drawn from the passage which i have quoted ought not lightly to be dismissed as a mere _argumentum ad hominem_. sir h. maine says that the prætors early laid hold on cognation as the _natural_ form of kinship. either, then, they did this really detecting this principle as inhering in the natural law which was in tradition, or as detecting it as the "law common to all the nations known to the romans." in the latter case, it shows that, whereas cognation was common among the surrounding nations, agnation obtained among the romans. the latter was therefore their peculiar institution, which sustains the argument which i have just put. if, on the contrary, they detected cognation underlying the institutions of all nations, and as part of their traditional law of nature, we cannot wish for a better and clearer instance of the natural law cropping up. and it is an instance, too, of the advantage at which those argue who have on their side the authority of scripture, indicating the landmarks. knowing that mankind sprang from a single pair, we can see that cognation must have been the law from the commencement: for it stands to reason that commencing with common ancestors the normal and natural mode would be to include all the relations according to degrees of descent, until there was some object in excluding them. with some political necessity or expediency for the limitation to males and the exclusion of females would agnation have commenced. if we require a case in point we have it in the relationship of laban to jacob. according to agnatic relationship they were second cousins, but according to cognatic relationship laban was his maternal uncle, and such accordingly he is called in the sacred text (gen. xxviii. ). but in the seventh century before christ, in the thickness of paganism, men would scarcely have come to this conclusion, since they had apparently lost, as far as we know, the knowledge of their origin; although, as we have already seen, they retained dimly the tradition of many things of which they had forgotten the specific history. from the information we derive from sir h. maine, the memory of cognation, as the earliest and most natural scheme of kinship, must somehow have subsisted in tradition. it was not certainly in their power to verify the truth of the tradition as we can by a reference to revelation, and yet it would seem as if, having come to this conclusion, that it was almost within the grasp of human reason to have inferred from it the origin from a single pair, and thus to have recovered the knowledge they had lost from the tradition they had preserved.[ ] [ ] "the above table shows that before the separation of the aryan race, every one of the degrees of affinity had received expression and sanction in language, for, although some spaces had to be left empty, the coincidences, such as they are, are sufficient to warrant one general conclusion."--_vide_ table, max müller's essays, ii. p. . of course, i am speaking only of the actual affinity, not of laws of succession founded upon it. these must be controlled by other considerations, and by other natural rights, as, for instance, the right of testation or by reasons of state requiring hereditary succession and a salic law, or by reasons of family compelling the agnatic rule as the only mode of preserving the ancestral domain to the family--a necessity which applies as stringently to small freeholds as to broad manors. in illustration, i quote the following passage from the rev. w. smith's "pentateuch" (above referred to, ch. xiii., "indirect internal evidence of mosaic authorship," vol. i. )--"as the journey (exodus) proceeds so laws originate from the accidents of the way.... the laws regulating the succession to property furnish an example of the same kind. in numbers xxvi. - it is ordained in accordance with patriarchal usage, that the family inheritance descend by the male line. but a case immediately turns up where there happens to be no male issue. zelophahad had left no sons, but only daughters, and what was to become of the property? how was the succession to be regulated? to meet the case, jehovah orders moses to proclaim the law of numbers xxvii. - , in virtue of which daughters, in failure of sons, are to succeed. shortly after, a new difficulty arises. as heiresses, the daughters of zelophahad were now to have property of their own. but if they married out of their tribe, was the property to go with them? (num. xxxvi. - .) such a condition would at once have upset the fundamental laws of inheritance. hence, to avoid the evil, they are enjoined to marry within their own tribe; and a general law to the same effect is promulgated" (xxxvi. , ). a few points in sir h. maine's argument (_supra,_ p. ) remain to be noticed. i must take exception, for instance, to his averment "that what we respect and admire," viz. "principles so universal," the roman "regarded with jealous dread." "the parts of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection, and the solemn gestures, &c., were the parts which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration," for he seems to have recognised their justice, and allowed them to operate so effectually that his whole system of jurisprudence, which was originally based on agnatic kinship, came round to the principle of cognation.[ ] in the process, and through the action so skilfully evolved and unfolded in sir h. maine's pages, two principles, equally to our mind, were brought into gradual recollection, viz. the comity of nations and equality before the law. the "solemn gestures," "the nicely-adjusted questions and answers of the verbal contract," "the endless formalities," are at least in evidence of the tradition. [ ] "we should know almost nothing about it (agnation) if we had only the compilations of justinian to consult; but the discovery of the ms. of gaius discloses it to us at a most interesting epoch, just when it had fallen into complete discredit, and was verging on extinction."--_ancient law_, p. . and this suggests a reflection upon the basis of sir h. maine's argument, viz. that the romans could only draw their induction from "the customs of the old italian tribes, as these were all the nations whom the romans had the means of observing." now, if we attach the weight which is due to dr newman's remarkable view (_vide supra_) as to the course and confines of civilisation, we shall be, i think, struck with the fact that the two nationalities of greece and rome, which were destined to form its heart and centre, had as their common substratum a very peculiar people, whose characteristics exactly adapted them to retain traditions, and to carry out the scriptural saying about the people, "and they shall maintain the state of the world"--a people who were the first occupiers of the soil of greece and italy, and who, if not directly and historically, can through philology be traced back to the most primitive times;[ ] a people tenacious of customs and traditions,[ ] who were the guardians of the worship and tradition of the dodonæan jupiter,[ ] and in possession of his shrine when the worship of jupiter was only the thinly-disguised corruption of the worship of the true god;[ ] a people to whom, according to mr gladstone, the greek religion owed its sacerdotal and ceremonial development,[ ] and who also inclines to the opinion, which has a more especial significance, and bearing on the present argument, that the amphictyonic council was a pelasgian institution. [ ] gladstone's homer, i. - . [ ] _id._ i. - . [ ] "the greek mythology was derived from the pelasgians, and the oracle of dodona belonged to them."--_niebühr, hist._ i. . "the pelasgians were a different nation from the hellenes: their language was peculiar, and not greek.... the pelasgians, as well as the hellenes, were members of the amphictyonic association, the main tie of which was religion, in which both nations agreed."--_niebühr, hist._ i. (_travers twiss' epitome_, ch. iii.) "the royal laws became odious or obsolete, the mysterious deposit was silently preserved by the priests and the nobles, and at the end of sixty years the citizens of rome still complained that they were ruled by the arbitrary sentence of the magistrate; yet the positive institutions of the kings had blended themselves with the public and private manners of the city; some fragments of that venerable jurisprudence were compiled by the diligence of antiquarians, and above twenty texts still speak the rudeness of the pelasgic idiom of the latins."--_gibbon's decline and fall_, vol. viii. ch. xiv. [ ] gladstone, ii. , &c.; strabo. [ ] _id._ i. . now, let us consider this special significance of the amphictyonic council. on the one hand, it is attributed to amphictyon, the son of deucalion; on the other hand (as i shall presently show), we see the almost identical institution in italy in contact with roman law. what, then, was the amphictyonic council? those who have written upon it appear to me to have endeavoured to regard it too much as a federation. hence a double error. on the one side it was found that, instead of being a federation of all greece, at most it was only a federation of twelve cities; it was further found that it had no external action, and that on occasions, as, _e.g._ the persian war, in which the whole nation of greece acted as one people, it made no appearance.[ ] a feeling of disappointment necessarily supervened, and it was asked, if not a federation, what was it? on the other hand, although not a federation for the purposes of government or war, it would be an equal error to deny that it was a federation for certain purposes, more or less invisible to the eye, and which for such purposes retained sufficient vitality to assemble deputies twice a year, and during several centuries, for it is certain that it subsisted to the close of grecian history, when, indeed, we are astonished to find that when faith in everything else had died out, belief in the amphictyons again flickers into life. it is true that we know little, but the little that has transpired implies so much more. were it not for a casual passage in a speech of Æschines, we should hardly have known more than of their existence. as it is, we are thrown back upon conjecture, and upon what we can recover indirectly from tradition. now, if we suppose the amphictyonic council to have tradited down, and to have been a federation for the purposes of traditing down from primitive times, even in their rudimentary form, the rules and principles of the laws of nations, much that is strange and mysterious in its history will disappear.[ ] it will at once account for its duration and prestige, in spite of its inactivity and merely passive existence, even supposing that it is reduced in our estimation to a sort of convocation, powerless for action, and merely keeping alive a tradition of the past. from this point of view, the fact of its merely being a federation of twelve states, which is generally adduced to reduce it to unimportance, taken in connection with another fact which i shall presently substantiate, really militates in favour of my argument. it shows that instead of being the one typical institution of the sort, it is only the one which stands out most prominently in history, and merely handed down a tradition which was common to many others. i have already alluded to the latin league, through which, apparently, the romans recovered their tradition of the law common to all nations. if all these isolated federations retained their tradition of a law common to all nations--although practically limited to the members of their own confederation--is it not at once in evidence of the action of the dispersion and at the same time of a tradition anterior to the disruption? without pretending to have gone over the ground necessary to present an exhaustive catalogue of such federations, i may present the following facts in evidence and illustration. [ ] _vide_, pastoret, "hist. de la legislation," v. . [ ] "the oath taken by the deputies bound the amphictyons not to destroy any of the amphictyonic cities, or to debar them from the use of their fountains in peace or war; to make war on any who should transgress in these particulars ... or who should plunder the property of the god (the delphine apollo).... this is the oldest form of the amphictyonic oath which has been recorded, and is expressly called by Æskines the ancient oath of the amphictyons."--_cyclop. of arts and sciences._ outside the amphictyonic union there were other federations, even within the confines of greece itself:-- "qui avoient le même caractère, et peut-étre un caractère plus intime d'association entre des etats voisins, pour honorer ensemble des dieux, ou pour se prêter, dans certains cas, un appui necessaire. il s'en reunissoit une non loin de trezime ou argolide, une autre à corinthe, une autre à onchiste en beotie; on en trouve de semblables encore dans plusieurs îles de la grece, et dans les colonies de l'asie mineure.[ ] ces associations, au reste, ne seconderent pas moins la civilisation generale que n'auroit pu le faire un amphictyonat universel."--_pastoret, hist. de la legis._, v. . [ ] the ionian federation, composed also of twelve cities, was almost identical. "l'association s'etoit formée d'abord entre les douze cités, en y comprenant les deux îles voisines de samos et de chio.... on s'assembloit dans un lieu sacré du mont mycale, que les ionians avoient dediés en commun _à neptune_."--_pastoret_, ix. . there was also a confederacy of seven states, which met in the _temple of neptune_, in the island of calauria, "and which is even called by strabo, viii. , an amphictyonic council."--_cyclop. of arts and sciences_, art. amphic. council. we find the same federations when we come to italy:-- "among the other works of servius tullius was a temple of diana, which he erected on the aventine, apparently near the present church of sta. prisca. this temple, in imitation of the amphictyonic confederacy, was to be the common sanctuary and place of meeting for the cities belonging to the latin league, of which rome had become the chief through the conquest of alba longa; and her supremacy was tacitly acknowledged by the temple being erected with money contributed by the latin cities. it is said to have been an imitation of the artemisium, or temple of diana at ephesus. (liv. i. ; dionys. iv. ; varro, l. l. v. § ; val. max., vii. , § .) the brazen column containing the terms of the league, and the names of the cities belonging to it, was preserved in the time of dionysius."--dyer's _hist. of city of rome_, p. . compare this with niebühr, hist. ii. chap. ii. (travers twiss' "epitome.") "so long as latium had a dictator, none but he could offer sacrifice on the alban mount, and preside at the latin holidays, as the alban dictator had done before. he sacrificed on behalf of the romans likewise, as they did in the temple of diana on the aventine for themselves and the latins.... the opinion that the last tarquinius or his father constituted the festival is quite erroneous, as its antiquity is proved to have been far higher. it is true that tarquinius converted it into a roman festival, and probably, too, by throwing it open to a larger body, transformed the national worship of the latins into the means of hallowing and cementing the union between the states. the three allied republics had each its own place of meeting--at rome, at the spring of ferentina, and at anagnia, where the concilium of the hernican tribes was held in the circus; that the sittings of the diets were connected with the latin festival, seems to be evinced by the usage, that the consuls never took the field till after it was solemnised; and by its variableness, which implies that it was regulated by special proclamation. like the greek festivals it ensured a _sacred truce_." in these extracts we come upon a federation resembling the amphictyonic league, whose union is also cemented at a religious festival, the origin of which must be sought for in remote antiquity, and which festival has a direct connection with questions of peace and war. we also catch glimpses of similar federation among the hernici and marsi. now, let us go to quite an opposite point; and, if we find the same stratification cropping up, may we not conjecture it to have been once the same throughout. "when the europeans made their first settlements in america, six such nations had formed a league, had their amphictyons or states-general, and by the firmness of their union, and the ability of their councils, had obtained an ascendant from the mouth of the st lawrence to that of the mississippi. they appeared to understand the objects of the confederacy as well as those of separate nations; they studied a balance of power.... they had their alliances and treaties, which, like the nations of europe, they maintained or they broke upon reasons of state, and remained at peace from a sense of necessity or expediency, and went to war upon any emergency of provocation or jealousy."[ ] [ ] adam fergusson, "essay on civil society," . whatever the conduct of the iroquois or five nations (sometimes counted as six) may have been towards surrounding nations, the fidelity with which they held to their compacts among themselves is fully acknowledged. colden ("history of the five indian nations") says, "this union has continued so long that the christians know nothing of the original of it.... each of these nations is an absolute republick by itself, and every castle in each nation makes an independent republick and is governed by its own 'sachems' or old men.... they have certain customs which they observe in their publick transactions with other nations, and in their private affairs among themselves; which it is scandalous for any one among them not to observe, and these always draw after them either publick or private resentment whenever they are broke." in plato's republic, "it is laid down that the greeks are natural enemies of the barbarians, but are natural friends and _allies of one another, so that all hostilities between greek states_ are to be avoided--are to be conducted on principles of mildness and forbearance, and to be considered as civil discord rather than foreign war." "the ten kings of the atlantic island were never to make war on each other--there was a sort of congress between them." critias, chap. . sir g. c. lewis, "method," &c., ii. . this, taken in connection with what we know of the amphictyonic council, reads more like tradition than fiction. in mexico also there was "that remarkable league, which indeed has no parallel in history (?) it was agreed between the states of mexico, tezcuco, and the neighbouring little kingdom of tlascopan, that they should mutually support each other in their wars, offensive and defensive, and that in the distribution of the spoil one-fifth should be assigned to tlascopan, and the remainder be divided--in what proportions is uncertain--between the two other powers.... what is more extraordinary than the treaty itself, however, is the fidelity with which it was maintained."--_prescott's mexico_, i. p. . and in the republic of tlascala, it is said (_id._ i. ) "after the lapse of years, the institutions of the nation underwent an important change [they had previously separated into three divisions, of which tlascala was the largest]. the monarchy was divided, first into two, afterwards into four separate states, bound together by a sort of federal compact, probably not very nicely defined. each state, however, had its lord or superior chief, independent in his own territories, and possessed of co-ordinate authority with the others in all matters concerning the whole republic. the affairs of government, especially _all those relating to peace and war_, were _settled_ in a _senate_ or _council_, consisting of the four lords, with their inferior nobles." the tlascalans subsequently incorporated the othonius, or otomius (p. ). here, as in the greek and latin leagues, the primary objects of the law of nations seem to have been secured within the limits of their confederation, or of what they would have deemed the pale of civilization. the requirements of their horrible worship (_i.e._ the necessity of procuring human victims for their sacrifices) seems, however, to have overridden every other consideration, and to have impelled them to frequent wars with the nations outside the pale. in the case of the tlascalans, the traditional lines seem more clearly defined. i have already hinted, in a note, with reference to the greek and latin leagues that the atlantis of plato was, as indeed it professes to be, an embodiment of tradition, and not, as it is commonly regarded, as a figment of the imagination; but this strikes me still more forcibly when the league of the ten kings in the atlantis is compared with the league of the tlascalans. plato says: "the particulars respecting the governors were instituted from the beginning as follows. each of the ten kings possessed absolute authority, both over the men and the _greater part_ of the laws in his own division and in his own city, punishing and putting to death whomsoever he pleased. but the government and communion of these kings with each other were conformable to the _mandates given by neptune_; and this was likewise the case with their laws. these mandates were delivered to them by their ancestors on a pillar of orichalcum, which was erected about the middle of the island, _in the temple of neptune._ these kings, therefore, assembled together every fifth, and alternately, every sixth year, for the purpose of distributing an equal part both of the even and the odd; and when they assembled they deliberated on the public affairs, inquired if any one had acted improperly ... a sacrifice of _bulls_ was made in the temple of neptune, at the foot of the pillar of orichalcum.... but on the pillar, besides the laws, there was an oath, supplicating mighty imprecations against those who were disobedient.... there were also many _other laws_ respecting _sacred_ concerns, and such as were peculiar to the several kings; but _the greatest_ were the following: that they should _never wage war against each other_, and that all of them should give assistance if any one person in some one of their cities should endeavour to extirpate the royal race. and as they consulted in common respecting war, and other actions, in the same manner as their ancestors, they assigned the empire to the atlantis family."--_plato's works_, sydenham and taylor's tr., ii. . i think it will then be conceded, that whether or not there was a tradition "of a law common to all nations," there were at any rate channels provided, well adapted to conduct and disseminate it, and that these channels everywhere converge upon the most primitive times. before proceeding to ascertain whether anything has in fact been transmitted, i must draw attention more particularly to the circumstance that the tradition of all law is everywhere closely connected with the traditions of religion, has been handed down in a similar manner; and, so far as it retains the purity of primitive truth, under the same sanction. from this point of view the following passages from cicero appears to me to be very significant: "hanc igitur video sapientissimorum fuisse sententiam legem neque hominum ingeniis excogitatum, neque scitum aliquod esse populorum, _sed æternum quiddam_ quod universum mundum regerat imperandi, prohibendique sapientiâ.... quæ non tum denique incipit lex esse, cum scriptum est, sed tum cum orta est; orta autem simul est cum mente divina." "jam ritus familiæ patrumque servari, id est _quoniam antiquitas proxima accedit ad deos_, a deis quasi _traditam_, religionem tueri."--_cicero de legibus_, ii. , . there is another curious passage which seems to prove that the oracles originally existed simply for the preservation of the primitive tradition; and, although mixed up with imposture, that they seem to have had the knowledge, or at least the instinct, that their prestige and power of influence was within the limits of the traditions which they had corrupted or preserved.[ ] [ ] the general assemblies of greece were held at delos, "comme métropole du culte," pastoret ix. . "ce qu'il y a d'assuré, c'est que le pontife exerçoit sur plusieurs objets une véritable administration de la justice. la décision n'en appartenoit qu' à lui. les règles qu'il devoit suivre, le caractère et l'étendue de ses droits, étoient pareillement établis dans le recueil connu sous le nom de jus pontificum (macrobe parle deux fois de ce jus pontificum, mais comme d'un ouvrage perdu. saturn, vii. chap. xiii.) un fils du pontife romain publius scævola est même cité dans le livre des lois comme prétendant qu'on ne pouvoit exercer un si haut ministère sans savoir le _droit civil_. quoi, tout entier? dit cicéron, qui le refute; et qui font au pontife le droit des mers, le droit des eaux, ou d'autres droits semblables?"--pastoret ix. . "torts, then, are copiously enlarged upon in primitive jurisprudence. it must be added that _sins_ are known to it also. of the teutonic codes it is almost unnecessary to make this assertion.... but it is also true that non-christian bodies of archaic law entail penal consequences on certain classes of acts and on certain classes of omissions, as being _violations of divine prescriptions and commands_. the law administered at athens by the senate of the areopagus was probably a _special religious code_; and at rome, apparently from a _very early period_, the pontifical jurisprudence punished adultery, sacrilege, and perhaps murder. there were, therefore, in the athenian and in the roman states laws punishing _sins_."--sir h. maine, pp. , . the expression unwritten laws ([greek: agraphoi nomoi]) first occurs in the funeral oration of pericles (thuc. ii. ), when it appears to denote those laws of the state which are corroborated by the moral sanction. it next occurs.... xenophon, mem. iv. , § , , ... the expression was doubtless adopted by socrates from popular usage. thus plato speaks of [greek: ta kaloumena hypo tôn pollôn agrapha nomima] (leg. vii. ). _vide_ sir g. c. lewis, "method of rea. in pol.," ii. . [the "laws called unwritten by the multitude" must evidently imply laws known to the multitude but in tradition.] cicero, "de natura deorum," iii., says, "habes, balba, quid cotta, quid _pontifex_ sentiat. fac nunc, ego intelligam, quid tu sentias: a te enim philosopho rationem accipere debes religionis; _majoribus autem nostris etiam nulla ratione reddita credere_." "lex est cui homines obtemperare convenit, cum ob alia multa, tum ab eo maxime quod lex omnis inventus quidem, ac _dei munus est_." "lex est sanctio sancta, jubens _honesta_, prohibens contraria." "deinceps in lege est, _ut de ritibus patriis_ coluntur optimi, de quo cum consulerent athenienses apollinem pythium, quas potissimum religiones tenerent, oraculum editum est _eas quæ essent in more majorum_. quo cum iterum venissent, majorumque morem dixissent, sæpe esse mutatum, quæsivissentque quem morem potissimum sequerentur, e variis respondit, optimum. et perfecto ita est ut id habendum sit antiquissimum et a _deo proximum_ quod sit optimum."[ ]--_cicero de legibus,_ ii. . [ ] this last sentence is only a gloss of cicero's from the stoical point of view, since clearly the enunciation of the oracle would compel the conclusion, that what was most ancient and nearest the gods was the best, and not that the best, as abstractly conceived, was to be held the most ancient, &c. a moment's consideration will suffice to show that in this substitution is involved the whole extent of the difference between the principle of conservation and the principle of change. "demosthène qui avait en faire tant de mauvaises lois, prononçait que" toutes les lois sont l'ouvrage et le présent des dieux "et c'était à ce titre qu'il réclamit pour elles l'obéissance des hommes. socrate professait la même doctrine."--ozanam, "les germains avant le christianisme," i., . again, "quand on étudie les lois indiennes on y voit tout un grand peuple enchaîné par la terreur des dieux. le livre de la loi s'annonce comme une revelation.... les prescriptions du droit sacré enveloppent pour ainsi dire toute la vie civile, et c'est là qu'on decouvre enfin la raison de tant de coutumes dont les occidentaux avaient conservé la lettre, mais non l'esprit."--_id._ p. . "if the customs and institutions of barbarians have one characteristic more striking than another, it is their _extreme uniformity_" (maine's "ancient law," p. ). "there are in nature certain fountains of justice whence all civil laws are derived but as streams; and like as waters do take tinctures and tastes from the soils through which they run, so do civil laws vary according to the regions and governments where they are planted, though they proceed from the same fountains." (bacon, "advancement of learning," b. ii. w. iii. , ap.; d. rowland, "on the moral commandments," p. .) but this sentiment and tradition was not only common to the people of greece and rome, but to the yet uncivilised tribes of germany. "or les dispositions, où la coutume barbare et la loi romaine s'accordent, sont encore celles qui semblent faire le fond des législations grèques: non que les douze tables aient été copiées, comme on l'a cru, sur les lois de solon, mais à cause de l'étroite parenté des peuples de la grèce et du latium. a travers l'obscurité des siècles héroïques, on découvre un sacerdoce puissant qui a ses premiers établissements en thrace, en samothrace, à dodone, et qui perpétuera son autorité par l'institution des mystères. on voit aussi la resistance d'une race belliqueuse."--_ozanam_, "les germains avant le christianisme,"_ vol. i. chap. "les lois." "au premier abord rien ne semble plus contraire aux moeurs barbares que la loi romaine, si subtile, si précise, si bien obéie. cependant si l'on en considère les origines, on n'y trouve pas d'autres principes que ceux dont la trace subsistait dans les vieilles coutumes de la germanie. le droit primitif du rome, comme celui du nord, est un droit sacré."--_ib._ p. . "il existait chez les germains une autorité religieuse, _dépositaire de la tradition_, et qui y trouvait l'idéal et le principe de tout l'ordre civil. cette autorité avait créé la propriété immobilière en la rendant respectable par des rites et des symboles, ... elle l'engageait dans les liens de la famille légitime, consacrée par la sainteté du mariage, par le culte des ancêtres, par la solidarité du sang: elle l'enveloppait dans le corps de la nation sédentaire, ou elle avait établi une hierarchie de caste et de pouvoir, à l'exemple de la hierarchie divine de la création" (p. ). "dans cette suite de scènes dont se compose pour ainsi dire le drame judiciaire, on reconnaît un pouvoir religieux, qui cherche _à sauver la paix, à désarmer la guerre_ et qui s'y prend de trois façons différentes" (p. ). now, if we are agreed that fitting channels for the diffusion of the tradition existed; if, further, we find that all law seems to trace itself back to a common source of supernatural revelation; if the resemblances in the traditions concerning the lawgivers of antiquity--and, with the exception of lycurgus, the agreement in the fundamentals of their codes--in the great lines of the family, property, and the external relations of life, seems to require the supposition of some common fountain-head at which they all filled the pitcher--we shall, i think, when we come to the question of public law, only require further some evidence of a tradition of maxims, rules, and precedents of procedure in war, founded on and appealing to natural right, and claiming the sanction of the gods, to establish the existence of a law common to all nations different from that which would have arisen from the judgment of the prætors, merely applying the rules and maxims common to the romans and the adjoining nations, in case of conflict where the law of the state was not allowed to be applied (_supra_, maine). i shall, doubtless, be reminded that this was only part of sir h. maine's argument, and that it was this, taken in connection with the influence of the stoics on roman law, and the stoical conception of nature,[ ] which created the fiction of a law of nature, and of a law common to all nations. [ ] "l'erreur a été de croire qu'il n'est rien de plus facile à l'homme que de suivre la nature, tandis que c'est au contraire le chef-d'oeuvre de l'art que de la contenir dans les bornes que la nature lui prescrit: c'est où peuvent à peine parvenir les legislateurs les plus sages. que de préjugés à éteindre! que d'erreurs à combattre! que d'habitudes à vaincre! toutes choses qui dans tous les temps commandent impérieusement au genre humain."--_l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usages_, i. . ii. ch. iii. _par boulanger_. let it then be granted that the theories and maxims of the stoics had their influence on roman society and roman law. it was only part of the influence which stole over and everywhere impregnated the field of primitive tradition. sir h. maine shows us how it at once seized upon the element of law, which, be it in fiction only, was said to be common to all nations. would it the less have seized upon it if, instead of being a fiction, it had been a reality?--_à fortiori_, it would have done so. therefore sir h. maine leaves the question as to the belief among the ancients in a "law common to all nations" still open, or rather, so far as there is an argument, it is only with the previous part of his theory that it is necessary to deal; for all that sir h. maine's finely-drawn reasoning and subtle detection of the influence of grecian stoicism on roman law accounts for--so far as the present argument is concerned--is the greater attention and respect which was henceforward paid to the fiction, supposing that it had not heretofore and always been paid to the fact, that there was a traditional law common to all nations. i have previously (p. ) pointed out the distinction between the law of nations and international law, and i am under the impression that i made the distinction before the publication of sir h. maine's work--certainly before i had become acquainted with it. the manner in which sir h. maine makes the distinction does not appear to me to be quite accurate. he says:--"it is almost unnecessary to add that the confusion between _jus gentium_, or law common to all nations, and international law, is entirely modern. the classical expression for international law is _jus feciale_, or the law of negotiation and diplomacy" (p. ). the fecial college was very far from corresponding with our corps diplomatique, neither was its law a law of negotiation and diplomacy; and the distinction between the law of nations and international law was made in modern times, _precisely because_ in antiquity treaty law was subordinate to, and identified with, the traditional law. the fecial college corresponded much more nearly to what our heralds' college would be, supposing the heralds' college invested with the authority of our admiralty courts, and also made the trustees of the foundation for the study of international law, which dr whewell's bequest had the intention of instituting at cambridge. we should then have, as in ancient times, a body of men who would be at once the depositaries, the interpreters, and the heralds of a tradition, though, to complete the picture, we should have to invest them with a sacred character, and in some way to give to their decisions the sanction of religion. dionysius of halicarnassus tells us that they were priests chosen from the best families at rome, and that their special intention was to see that the romans never made an unjust war. "the seventh part of the sacred laws was devoted to the college of the fecials, whom the greeks call [greek: eirênodikai].[ ] they are men selected from the most illustrious families, and are dedicated during their whole life to this priesthood.... it would take long to enumerate all the various duties of the fecials, which were multifarious, ... but in the main they are these,--to take heed lest the romans should ever undertake an unjust war with a city with which they were in league" (lib. ii.); it was their duty to demand reparation, and, failing, to declare war; in case of differences with allies, they acted as mediators, and they adjudicated in case of disputes. it was for them to decide what constituted an injury to the person of an ambassador, and whether or not the generals had acted according to their oaths; to draw up the articles of treaties, truces, and the like; and to decide as to their nullity and validity, and to communicate accordingly with the senate, which deliberated upon their report. [ ] [greek: eirênodikai]--"feciales quia _interpretes_ et _arbitri_ sunt pacis et belli."--_lexicon_, ben-hederic, ernesti. _vide_ also plutarch, "numa;" livy, lib. i. c. . vattel, iii. c. iv., says:--"it is _surprising_ to find among the romans such justice, such moderation and prudence, _at a time too_ when apparently nothing but courage and ferocity was to be expected from them." what cicero tells us is not less to the point:-- "there are certain peculiar laws of war also, which are of all things most strictly to be observed.... as we are bound to be merciful to those whom we have actually conquered, so should those also be received into favour who have laid down their arms.... our good forefathers were most strictly just as to this particular, the custom of those times making him the patron of a conquered city or people who first received them into the faith and allegiance of the people of rome. in short, _the whole right and all the duties of war_ are most rigorously set down in the _fecial laws_, out of which it is manifest that no war can be justly undertaken _unless satisfaction has been first demanded_, and _proclamation_ of it made _publicly beforehand_."--cicero, _offices_, i. xi.; again, also, _vide_ iii. xxxi. compare these passages with mr gladstone's account of the homeric age:-- "in that early age, despite the prevalence of piracy, even that idea of political justice and public right, which is the germ of the law of nations, was not unknown to the greeks. it would appear that war could not be made without an appropriate cause, and that the offer of redress made it the duty of the injured to come to terms. hence the offer of paris in the third iliad is at once readily accepted; and hence, even after the breach of the act, arises agamemnon's fear, at the moment when he anticipates the death of menelaus, that by that event the claim to the restoration of helen will be practically disposed of, and the greeks will have to return home without reparation for a wrong, of which the _corpus_, as it were, will have disappeared."--_iliad_, iv. - .[ ] [ ] gladstone, "homer and the homeric age," iii. . it is certainly not within the scope of this chapter to indicate the multiform applications of the law of nations, which it would require a legist's special knowledge (to which the writer can lay no claim) to determine with any exactness. my object has been merely to sustain the traditional belief against those who deny it. i shall indeed, for the purposes of illustration, go into detail on one point, viz. the declaration of war; but i may mention incidentally that the fecial and amphictyonic law presumably extended to many other points, such as treaties, trophies,[ ] truces,[ ] hostages, and the like. moreover, the maritime law of rhodes and the islands of the Ægean, known to the romans long before it was embodied in their code (which was not probably until they had extended maritime relations), presents, as pastoret (ix. ) informs us, "analogies et rapprochemens multipliés" with modern maritime legislation from the time of the romans to the "ordonnance de la marine" drawn up by order of louis xiv. [ ] "to demolish a trophy was looked on as unlawful, and a kind of sacrilege, because they were all dedicated to some deity; nor was it _less a crime to pay crime_ to pay divine adoration before them, or to repair them when decayed, as may be _likewise_ observed of the roman triumphal arches.... for the same reason, those grecians who introduced the custom of erecting pillars for trophies incurred a severe censure from the ages they lived in."--_potters "archæologia_," ii. c. . "before the greeks engaged themselves in war it was usual to publish a declaration of the injuries they had received, and to demand satisfaction by ambassadors; which custom was observed even in _the most early ages_.... it is therefore no wonder what polybius relates of the Ætolians, that they were held for the common _outlaws_ and robbers of greece, it being their manner to strike without warning, and make war without any previous or public declaration."--_id._ ii. c. vii. p. . (compare _infra_, ch. xv.) [ ] "omnes portas concionabundus ipse imperator circumiit, et quibuscumque irritamentis poterat, iras militum accuebat, nunc fraudem hostium incusans, qui, pace petita, induciis datis, per ipsum induciarum tempus, _contra jus gentium_ ad castra oppugnando venisset."--_p. livius_, . xc. in an article on "belligerent rights at sea" (in the _home and foreign review_, july ), in which there will be found a nice discrimination of these questions, mr e. ryley says:-- "the very largest rule of belligerent rights limits the voluntary destruction of life and property by the necessity of the occasion and the object of the war. bynkershock and wolf insist that everything done against the enemy is lawful, and admit fraud, poison, and the murder, as we should call it, of non-combatants, as permissible expedients for attaining the object of the war. but these are the writers who lay the foundations of the law of nations in reason and custom, and ignore that perception and judgment of right and wrong which god has communicated to man. it is true that for the most part, and practically, we know the law of nations by reason and usage; but this law is founded not on that by which we know its decisions, but on justice; and reason must admit, and usage must adopt, whatever is clearly shown to be just and right, however this may be against precedent, and what has hitherto been held to be sound reason. there is no law without justice, nor any justice without conscience, nor any conscience without god. grotius thus admirably expresses himself:--'jus naturale est dictatum rectæ rationis, indicans actui aliqui, ex ejus convenientiâ aut disconvenientiâ cum ipsa naturâ rationali, inesse moralem turpitudinem, aut necessitatem moralem, _ac consequenter ab auctore naturæ, deo, talem actum vetari aut præcipi_. actus, de quibus tale extat dictatum, _debiti sunt aut illiciti per se, atque ideo a deo necessario præcepti aut vetiti intelliguntur_.'[ ] and this principle obtains greater force from the objections which have been made to it, and the efforts to establish another foundation for the law of nations. thus the principle of utility is only a feeble attempt to give another name to the law of justice which god has implanted in his creatures; and to pretend to found a law on general usage and tacit consent is to mistake the evidence of justice for justice itself." [ ] "de jure belli ac pacis," l. i. c. l. § x. n n, et . at first sight the passage quoted from mr ryley's article would seem to militate against my position; in reality we merely take up different weapons against bynkershock and wolf. if custom means merely precedent, it may or may not be in accordance with "that perception of right and wrong which god has communicated to man;" but if there is a tradition of a law of nations, the fact creates so great a presumption in favour of its pronouncements, that what is of usage and custom will be the criterion of what is right until the human intellect has shown that what has hitherto been held to be permissible was founded in a precedent of iniquity. on the other hand, we are agreed that the law of nations must be such as to stand the test of the "perception and judgment of right and wrong." as this perception, however, has never wholly died out among mankind, whatever is of general acceptance carries with it an assurance that it has stood this test; and "general usage and the tacit consent" is so much "the evidence of justice," that it has practically been taken, or mistaken by mankind "for justice itself," and the law of nations has always been discussed on the basis of usage. this, i contend, would not have been the case if there had not been behind usage the immemorial sanction and tradition, or if the tacit consent had been only acquiescence in wrong. i am the more confirmed in this view on perceiving that mr ryley, after stating his own opinion as to the right of blockade, finds his conclusions, when he has discriminated such precedents as were of an exceptional and retaliatory character, to be in conformity with usage and the decision of legists. from this point of view those who contend for the basis of tradition and those who contend for the basis of natural justice mean the same thing. they both affirm that there are limitations to human passion even in war. they are both opposed to precedents based on force, and are equally hostile to "the principle of utility," for if, as mr ryley puts it, "the principle of utility" is only "another name for the law of justice which god has implanted in his creatures," the phrase is an understatement of the truth, liable to misconstruction, and tends to lower the standard of right; and if it means something different or distinct from this, it means that against which the tradition of mankind protests. i have already said that international law, as distinguished from the law of nations, requires to be constantly discriminated by the intellect or the conscience of mankind, and more especially now that diplomatists are no longer legists. there was a certain indirect and collateral influence arising out of the tradition of a law of nations from the fact that a body of men existing as its interpreters, or at least as its depositaries, which it appears to me was destined to operate powerfully in the interests of peace. the existence of such a body of men perpetuated a public opinion in these matters, they fostered an _esprit de corps_ stronger even than the spirit of nationality which then reigned supreme and dominated society. when a violation of treaties or an unjust aggression took place there was thus found a body of men who would stigmatise or at least recognise it as such. the sentiment thus sustained was not all-influential for the purposes of peace, but it was operative to the extent of arresting the attention and perturbing the consciences of mankind. in like manner i venture to say that the diplomatic body, although the depositaries only of a bastard tradition, subserve this purpose also after a fashion, and i much doubt whether many well-intentioned men, in striving to compass its abolition would not, as matters stand, destroy the last breakwater which secures the peace of europe. in ancient times the comity of nations was virtually restricted to groups of cities or nations of kindred descent, or which had become confederate by reason of contiguity. this circumstance has been adduced by sir g. c. lewis to stop _in limine_ the theory of a law of nations;[ ] as if it was necessarily in denial of a tradition of morality common to all nations. yet, i think that i shall be able to show instances of its recognition as between the groups, but it is precisely in its restricted application within the groups, and in the channels thus provided, that i think we shall find common features, and dimly and obscurely, though certainly, catch glimpses of the tradition. [ ] sir g. c. lewis ("method, &c., of reasoning in politics," ii. ), quotes mr ward, "history of law of nations" (i. ), to the effect "that what is commonly called the law of nations, is not the law of _all_ nations, but only of such sets or classes of them as are united together by similar religions and systems of morality." sir g. c. lewis' view is that "as there are no universal principles of civil jurisprudence which belongs to each community, so there are no universal principles of international law which are common to all communities."--_id._ if i may complete my thought, these confederations were so many types and anticipations of that amphictyonic council, which, if things had not persistently gone wrong in the world, might have been formed in mediæval times by christendom under the presidency of the popes,[ ] and which may yet be realised in the triumph of religion which seems to be signified in the motto _lumen in coelo_, as attaching to the successor of the present pope, whose pontificate has been so singularly prefigured in the indication _crux de cruce_.[ ] [ ] since writing the above, i have read a series of papers (which commenced i think in august ) in the _tablet_ under the title of "arbitration instead of war," and i perceive that the writer arrives by a different route at a similar conclusion. i should have had pleasure in incorporating the argument with this chapter, but i shall do better if i induce my readers to peruse and weigh it as it deserves. [ ] i allude to the ancient prophecy of st malachy. its authenticity as the prophecy of st malachy may be questioned; but the antiquity of the prediction, and its existence in print early in the sixteenth century is, i believe, fully established. the copy which lies before me will be found in moreri's dictionary of , in the pontificate of innocent xiii. twelve mottoes given _in prediction_ from that date, fits the motto "_crux de cruce_," to the th successor of innocent, viz. pius ix. ten other mottoes follow commencing with "lumen in coelo." in the _times_, november , , it was said, "if this theory ['the states of christendom constituted as a species of commonwealth'] could be rendered effectual, international law would be furnished at once with its greatest need, a court to enforce its behests; but nothing is plainer than that for such arbitration _the arbitrators must be fetched from another planet_." but, inasmuch as abraham lincoln practically remarked, you cannot have "a cabinet of angels" in this world, the thing is to discover the arbitrator who is the furthest removed from sublunary influences. now, how strong soever may be our national mistrusts and prejudices, we cannot refuse to recognise that the papacy ostensibly satisfies these conditions, and this irrespective of the belief of the preponderant section of the christian world that he is the infallible guide, and the divinely appointed interpreter of the tradition of morals. its representatives being always old men naturally inclined to peace,[ ] the sovereign of a small state which a general war would imperil--professing maxims and therefore pledged to a programme of peace--(so that any deviation from it, as in the case of julius ii., would render glaring and abnormal acts which would have been unnoticed in an ordinary sovereign), a sovereign without a family (and whatever may be said of nepotism, it must be conceded that a man who has only collateral relatives is _less_ tempted to found a family than one who has sons), a sovereign, in fine, representing the oldest line of succession in the world,[ ] in the oldest city, in the centre of tradition, and like noah in the traditional symbols (_ante_, p. ), linking the new world with the old. [ ] "the pontifical power is, from its essential constitution, the least subject to the caprices of politics. he who wields it is, moreover, always aged, unmarried, and a priest; all which circumstances exclude ninety-nine hundredths of all the errors and passions which disturb states."--_de maistre, du pape_, b. ii. chap. iv. [ ] "the history of that church joins together the two great ages of human civilisation. no other institution is left standing which carries the mind back to the times when the smoke of sacrifice rose from the pantheon, and when the cameleopards and tigers bounded in the flavian amphitheatre. the proudest royal houses are but of yesterday when compared with the line of the supreme pontiffs. that line we trace back in an unbroken series, from the pope who crowned napoleon in the nineteenth century, to the pope who crowned pepin in the eighth; and far beyond the time of pepin the august dynasty extends, till it is lost in the twilight of fable.... the catholic church is still sending forth to the farthest ends of the world missionaries as zealous as those who landed in kent with augustine, _and still confronting hostile kings with the same spirit with which she confronted attila."--macaulay's essays, "review of ranke's popes._" this, i find (i quote from a series of important papers on "english statesmen and the independence of popes," _tablet_, november ), was fully recognised by our greatest minister, mr pitt. in , "pitt suggested, through françois de conzié, bishop of arras, that the pope should put himself at the head of a european league." "on more than one occasion," he wrote, "i have seen the continental courts draw back before the divergences of opinion and of religion which separate us. i think that a common bond ought to unite us all. _the pope alone can be this centre._... we are too much divided by personal interests or by political views. rome alone can raise an impartial voice, and one free from all exterior preoccupations. rome, then, ought to speak according to the measure of her duties, and not merely of her good wishes, which no one doubts." there have been at different periods of the world various projects of universal pacification;[ ] but it is worthy of remark that they have almost all, from that of henri iv. to the one recently broached by the professor of modern history at cambridge, taken the traditional lines of a confederation of states more or less circumscribed with an amphictyonic council. this has its significance from the point of view i am indicating, but i do not see that it is satisfactorily accounted for on any other view.[ ] [ ] sir g. c. lewis, "method, &c.," ii. , enumerates several. [ ] in de quincey's works, xii. , there is a disquisition on kant's scheme "of a universal society founded on the empire of political justice," where it is competent that as the result of wars man must be inevitably brought "to quit the barbarous condition of lawless power and to enter into a federal league of nations, in which even the weakest number looks for its rights and protection--not to its own power, or its own adjudication, but to this great confederation (_foedus amphictyonum_), to the united power, and the adjudication of the collective will," and is said to be "the inevitable resource and mode of escape under that pressure of evil which nations reciprocally inflict," and which seems to contemplate a situation like the present. "finally war itself becomes gradually not only so artificial a process, so uncertain in its issue, but also is the after-pains of inextinguishable national debts (a contrivance of modern times) so anxious and burdensome; ... that at length those governments which have no immediate participation in the war, under a sense of their own danger, offer themselves as mediators, though as yet without any sanction of law, and thus prepare all things from afar for the formation of a great primary state-body or cosmopolitic areopagus, such as is wholly _unprecedented_ in all preceding ages." i am fully aware of the divergence of this view from that which i have indicated, but i wish to point out that it is only "unprecedented" in so far as it is cosmopolitic and extends to all humanity; but so extending it ought not to include the traditional notions of an "areopagus"--_foedus amphictyonum_--or confederation of states. it ought rather to talk of an interfusion of states, the only condition upon which the cosmopolitic areopagus would be possible; yet it inevitably falls into the traditionary lines. moreover, before mankind can attain to this _inter-fusion_ of states, one supreme difficulty, which seems always to be over-looked, must be overcome, we must bring mankind back to be "of one lip and one speech." the scheme, on the other hand, of a federation cannot be pronounced impracticable until it has been tried; yet, although it lies latent in the idea of christendom, and although it has had a sort of informal recognition in the theory and policy of the balance of power, there has never been any understanding from which we can gather what the results would be, if the bond of federation were ever cemented by any solemn pledge or sanction. it would seem, then, that there has always existed in the world the tradition, and since the triumph of christianity, the conditions by which, if it had so willed, it might have recovered the golden age of peace and happiness of which it has never entirely lost the tradition. until this consummation we must fall back upon the law of nations,[ ] though even here it must be borne in mind that christianity has exercised an indirect influence, and has raised the standard of morality for the world at large.[ ] but when all is abated the law of nations remains the _lex legum_, deeply founded in the maxims, sentiments, and usages of mankind. these maxims in their tradition have been concurrently interpreted, adapted, and in a certain sense moulded by the intellect of legists, whose discriminations or conclusions have received the tacit approbation of mankind. rarely has the production of any profane writer received such an unanimous ratification as the great work of hugo grotius, mainly, as we have seen (_ante_, p. ), based on tradition. again, the agreement and correspondence among the legists of different nationalities is substantial, and is only to be accounted for upon the supposition that each in his own groove faithfully incorporated and elaborated a tradition; and if you say that this was only an argument among the separate traditions of the roman law, you only put back the argument one remove, as i have attempted to demonstrate. if conversely you say that the law of nations as we find it is purely the work and elaboration of legists, and the conclusions of abstract reason, put it to this test, bring all the legists of the world into a congress--such a congress is much needed just now--with instructions to create a new code on abstract principles, and upon the basis of the rejection of what is of custom and tradition, and see what they will accomplish! do not all our difficulties begin exactly where, owing to the complications of modern civilisation, tradition ceases? for the rest we shall presently see what the congress of paris, in , was able to effect in this kind. [ ] "historicus" (letter in the _times_, february , ) writes--"the system of international law professes to be a code of rules which ought to govern, and in fact in a great degree _does govern_, the conduct of independent nations in their dealings with one another.... how can one doubt that in fact such a rule exists and does operate? let us test the matter by an example. when the news of the affair of the _trent_ reached england, what was the first question that every one asked? was it not this, 'is this act conformable to the law of nations, or is it not?' did not the english cabinet summon all the most distinguished jurists to advise them what the law of nations was? was not the decision absolutely dependent on their advice.... the code of the law of nations, based on all other laws, on morality, deduced by the reasoning of jurists from well established principles, illustrated by precedents, gathered from usage, confirmed by experience, has become from age to age more and more respected as the arbiter of the rights and duties of nations, ... and now, after this system has been elaborated with so much care, and has yielded results so beneficial to the human race, we are to be told that the only real question in differences between nations is, 'whether, all things considered, it is or _is not worth while to go to war_?' not, be it observed, _right_ or _wrong_ to go to war. this is exactly the doctrine set forth in the celebrated thelian controversy recorded in thucydides." w. oke manning, "commentaries on the law of nations" (p. ), says, "sir j. mackintosh in his 'hist. of the progress of ethical philosophy' (prefixed to the 'encyclopædia britannica,' p. ), speaks of _suarez_ as the writer who first saw that international law was composed not only of the simple principles of justice applied to intercourse between states, but of those _usages long observed_ in that intercourse by the european race which have since been more exactly distinguished as the consuetudinary law acknowledged by the christian nations of europe and america. but suarez himself speaks of this distinction as already recognised by previous writers." [ ] "la religion chrétienne, qui ne semble avoir d'objet que la félicité de l'autre vie, fait encore notre bonheur dans celle-ci.... que d'un côté, l'on se mette devant les yeux les massacres continuels des rois et des chefs grecs et romains, ... et nous verrons que nous devons au christianisme, et dans le gouvernement un certain droit politique, et dans la guerre un certain droit des gens, que la nature humaine ne saurait assez reconnaître."--_montesquieu, "esprit des lois_," i. xxiv. chap. . chapter xv. _the declaration of war._ i think we have already distinct evidence that the fecial law was something more than our treaty and diplomatic law. let us examine it more particularly in action. if the law of nations ever was appealed to, and, if over and above, there was a tradition of a divine revelation, or even of a prescriptive law founded on natural right, and having reference to war, which was ever invoked, it would have been in the first instance of aggression, supposing, as is implied in the term, that it was without fair cause and without fair warning. the declaration of war, therefore, is manifestly the hinge upon which the whole system of the law of nations turns.[ ] accordingly, the further we go back the more solemn and formal do we find the declaration of war to be. [ ] i must here do mr urquhart the justice to point out that he has been the principal advocate of this doctrine, that the declaration of war is the turning-point upon which everything depends, and more than any other man has laboured to enforce it. (_vide_ "effects on the world of the restoration of canon law," by d. urquhart, .) at p. , mr urquhart refers to the action taken by the fecials. i have the misfortune to differ with mr urquhart on many points, but i have pleasure in bearing testimony as above. "in every instance the declaration of war was accompanied by _religious formalities_. when the senate believed that it had cause of complaint against a nation, it sent a fecial to his frontier. there the pontiff, his head bound with a woollen veil,[ ] exposed the griefs of the romans and demanded satisfaction. if it was not granted, he went back to render an account of his mission to the senate, ... and after a delay of thirty or thirty-three days they voted a declaration of war. then the fecial returned to the frontier, and, _casting a javelin_ into the enemy's country, he pronounced the following formula--'quod populus hermundulus,' &c.... every war which had not been declared in this manner was considered as unjust, and certain to incur the displeasure of the gods. in the _course of time_ this solemn declaration was replaced by a vain formality."[ ] [ ] the very rev. dr rock ("textile fabrics," p. xii.) says--"the ancient british speciality was wool, and the postulants asking admission to the different castes, the sacerdotal, bardic, and the leeches or natural philosophers, were distinguished by _stripes_ of white [cicero (de legibus, ii. ) says, "color autem albus præcipere decorus deo est quum in cateris tum maxima in textili"], blue, and green severally on their mantles, although the bards themselves were distinguished by some one of the colours above-mentioned (_vide infra_). [the significance of this will be noted at p. .] i may further remark, parenthetically, that here is an instance of national civilisation being _pari passu_ with religious traditions. the british speciality was wool--_query_, because "of the heavy stress laid upon the rule which taught that the official colour in their dress," &c. (_id., vide ante_, chap. xii. p. .) st paul says (heb. ix. ), "for when every commandment of the lord had been read by moses to all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats, with water, and scarlet _wool_, and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people" (goguet, "origin of laws," ii. p. ). the spaniards in made a treaty of peace with the indians of chili; they have preserved the memory of the forms used at the ratification. it is said that the indians killed many sheep, and stained in their blood a _branch_ of the cane-tree, which the deputy of the caciques put into the hands of the spanish general in token of peace and alliance." goguet also refers to heb. ix. . [ ] de fresquet, "_droit romain_," i. . montfauçon ("l'antiquité expliquée," ii. , p. iv., p. ) says:-- "lorsqu'ils alloient parlementer, ils avoient sur la tête un voile tissu de laine,[ ] et ils étoient couronnéz de vervaine: leur office étoit d'impêcher que les romains n'entreprissent point de guerre injuste: d'aller comme legats vers les nations qui violoient les traitez, etc.... ils prenoient aussi connaissance faits au legats de _part et d'autre_. quand la paix ne se trouvoit pas faite selon les loix, ils la declaroient nulle. si les commandans avoient fait quelque chose _contre la justice et contre le droit des gens_, ils reparoient leur faute et expioient leur crime, ... à cause du violement des traites faits devant numance, dit ciceron par un décret du senat le patrapatratus livra, c. mancinus aux numantins."[ ] [ ] compare with the description of saturn, "saturnus, velato capite falcam gerens."--_fulgent. mythol._ i. c. . [ ] in the above extract from montfauçon it should have been added, that when the romans sent one of their fecials to declare war he went in sacerdotal habit--"arrivant au confins de la ville, il _appelloit_ à temoins jupiter et les autres dieux comme il alloit demander réparation de l'injure au nom des romains, il faisoit des _imprécations_ sur lui et sur la ville de rome, s'il disoit rien contre la vérité, et continuoit son chemin ... s'il rencontroient quelque citoien quelque payisan (paysan) il _repétoit toujours_ ses imprécations," &c. we must content ourselves, of course, with what evidence we may get of similar institutions elsewhere; but what strikes me as strange in the contrast of modern civilisation with barbarism, is, that whereas our advances, whether in the sense of peace and war (whenever they are formally made), are commonly understood, the corresponding demonstrations on the side of barbarism are invariably misconstrued. when, for instance, captain cook approached the shores of bolabola, he describes the following scene, which reads to me very like the account we have just been reading of the roman herald:-- "soon after a _single man_ ran along the shore armed with _his lance_, and when he came abreast of the boat he began to dance, brandish his weapon, and call out in a very _shrill tone_, which tupia [a native of an adjacent island who was on board] said was a _defiance from the people_.... as the boat rowed slowly along the shore back again, _another_ champion came down, shouting defiance, and brandishing his lance. his appearance was more formidable than that of the other, for he wore a large cap made of the tail feathers of the topia bird, and his body was covered _with stripes of different coloured cloth_, _yellow, red, and brown_.... soon after a more grave and elderly man came down to the beach, and hailing the people in the boat, inquired who they were, and from whence they came.[ ]... after a short conference they all began _to pray very loud_. tupia made his responses, but continued to tell us they were not our friends" (i. ). [ ] a somewhat similar scene is also indistinctly traced in the following:--"wood relates that on his visit to st julian in , in walking inland he 'met seven savages, who came running down the hill to us, making _several signs_ for us to go back again, with much warning and noise, yet did _not offer to_ draw their arrows. but one of them who was _an old man_ came nearer to us than the rest, and made also signs we should depart, to whom i threw a knife, a bottle of brandy, and a neckcloth, to pacify him; but seeing him persist in the _same signs as before_, and that the savageness of the people seemed incorrigible, we returned on board again.'" quoted by r. o. cunningham, "natural history of the straits of magellan and west coast of patagonia," , p. . a similar scene is described by roggerwsen in his voyage, i think, to easter island. this, in connection with the scene at bolabola, recalls the mode of procedure in the odyssey, ix. (pope), when ulysses reaches "the land of lotus and the flowering coast. we climbed the beach and springs of water found, then spread our hasty banquet on the ground. three men were sent deputed from the crew (a herald one) the dubious coast to view, and learn what habitants possessed the place. they went and found a hospitable race, not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest: as our dire neighbours of cyclopean birth." let this be taken in connection with the following narrative:--[ ] "the large canoes came close round the ship, some of the indians playing on a kind of flute, others singing, and the rest blowing on a sort of shells. soon after, a large canoe advanced, in which was an awning, on the top of which sat _one_ of the natives holding some _yellow_ and _red_ feathers in his hand. the captain having consented to his coming alongside, he delivered the feathers, and while a present was preparing for him, he put back from the ship, and _threw the branch_ of a cocoa-tree in the air. this was doubtless the _signal_ for an onset, for there was an instant shout from all the canoes, which, approaching the ship, threw volleys of stones into every part of her." [ ] _vide_ captain wallis' voyage, in "hist. account of all the voyages round the world," , iii. p. . here the question appears to me to be whether this act of throwing the branch, so analogous to the throwing the javelin, which was the final act in the roman declaration of war (and to which our throwing down the glove or the gauntlet has analogy), was merely the signal to themselves, or whether it was not also the _notice_ of attack to the enemy. upon this will depend whether we are to consider it a treacherous "ruse" (and the presentation of the feathers has that aspect), or whether it was their traditional mode of declaration of war, and construed to be a treacherous attack, because the gallant navigator belonged to a nation more ignorant of the laws of nations than the savages they encountered. from the very fact of their having enacted this comedy or ceremonial, it must be inferred either that they attached some superstitious importance to its performance, and expected some good effects from it to themselves, or that they thought that it would be understood by their adversaries, in which case they must implicitly have believed it to be common to all nations. in either case it is just possible that after the manner of savages, they may have confused the symbols of peace and war, and ran into one what the romans had carefully distinguished--the "caduceatores",[ ] who went to demand peace, and the "fecials," who were sent to denounce war. [ ] caduceatores--compare _supra_, p. . in connection with these latter, let us inquire more particularly as to their wand of office, the _caduceus_. "in its _oldest_ form" it "was merely a _bough_ twined round with _white wool_; afterwards a white or gilded staff with imitations of _foliage_ and _ribands_ was substituted for the old rude symbol. these were probably not turned into snakes till a much later age, when that reptile had acquired a mystic character." müller's explanation is that it was originally the _olive branch_ with the stemmata, which latter became developed into serpents.--_encyc. of arts and sciences._ if, therefore, müller's explanation is correct, the oldest form of the symbol of office of those who were the depositaries of laws of nations in the matter of peace and war, was a symbol which has a special history and significance in connection with the deluge. will this not tend to identify their institution with that epoch? it will, perhaps, be said that the branch of a tree is in any case a natural symbol of peace. but why a symbol or token at all? why more than a simple gesture of salutation? unless the symbol embodied some idea which conveyed a pledge over and above? what, then, was this idea, unless the traditional idea? it may appear to us a natural emblem, but it is not so from association of ideas with the scriptural dove and olive branch? and yet consider how universal it is. captain cook's voyages (i. p. ; london, ) says, "it is remarkable that the chief, like the people in the canoes, presented to us the same symbol of peace that is known to have been in use _among the ancient_ and mighty nations of the northern hemisphere, _the green branch of a tree_." this occurred both in new zealand and otaheite. wallis ("voyages round the world," iii. ) says that on an occasion when the otaheitans wished to testify fidelity and friendliness, "the indians cut branches from the trees and laid them in a _ceremonious_ manner at the feet of the seamen; they painted themselves _red_ with the berries of a tree, and stained their garments _yellow_ with the bark of another." we have, as we have just seen, found this symbol in the caduceus, and it appears to me that the caduceus in its earlier form of a staff with foliage and ribands, is recognisable in the gothic monuments as given in stephens' "central america." _vide_ also cunningham's "bhilsa topes." washington irving ("life of columbus," iii. ) speaks of the natives coming forward to meet them with _white flags_; and the same, if i remember rightly, is recorded in cook's visit to the sandwich islanders. the _white flag_ is our own symbol; but what is the white flag but the development and refinement of the staff and white wool? again, why are _stripes_, in a variety of combination of colour, the characteristic symbol of flags? the reader will find the answer on returning to the text, where he will also learn the significance of the red and yellow, in the above descriptions. the red and yellow colours of the feathers in the above account may afford a clue, when it is remembered (_vide_ note), that they coincide with the colour used by the otaheitans to testify fidelity and friendliness; but, to appreciate this in its full significance, it will be necessary to show how commonly the traditional symbols of peace among the ancients had reference to the diluvian traditions, more especially the dove and the rainbow. assuming for the moment that bryant is right in his derivation of the names of juno and venus from jönah (hebrew), and [greek: oinas] (greek) = dove,[ ] i ask attention to the following, in connection with the red and yellow feathers of the polynesians, and the tail feathers of the topia bird mentioned by cook (_supra_, p. ).[ ] (bryant, ii. ), "as the peacock, in the full expansion of his plumes, displays all the beautiful colours of the iris (the rainbow), it was probably for that reason made the bird of juno, instead of the dove, which was appropriated to venus. the same history was variously depicted in different places, and consequently as variously interpreted." (compare p. .) [ ] ii. p. . [ ] _vide_ also in carver's "north america" (p. ), an engraving of the indian "calumet of peace,"--the stem is of a light wood curiously painted with hieroglyphics in various colours, and adorned with the _feathers_ of the _most beautiful_ birds. it is not in my power to convey an idea of the _various tints_ and pleasing ornaments of this much-esteemed indian implement"(p. ). if this is true, if the rainbow is the symbol of peace, and the peacock is the symbol of the rainbow, will it absolutely surprise us to find feathers of various colours presented as tokens of peace? i am prepared for the reply, that bryant's etymology is now considered obsolete; but i shall fall back upon the argument which i have urged elsewhere, that in cases where tradition renders the transmission of certain words probable, there is a presumption which overrides the ordinary canons of philological criticism. philologers very properly lay down, _e.g._ mr max müller's "chapter of accidents in comparative theology," _contemp. rev._, april , p. :-- "comparative philology has taught us again and again that when we find a word exactly the same in greek and sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word; and the same applies to comparative mythology ... for the simple reason that sanscrit and greek have deviated from each other, have both followed their own way, have both suffered their own phonetic corruptions, and hence, if they do possess the same word, they can only possess it either in its greek or in its sanscrit disguise." this is of course only upon the assumption that the languages have gone their own way, have followed their own corruptions; but if it can be shown that certain words, &c. &c., were preserved in tradition, and so guarded as not to come under the laws of deviation which philology traces out, or to come under them on different conditions, then, on the contrary, it is exceedingly probable that we should find them identical, or at least recognisable; in any case, this is a point which must be decided according to the evidences of tradition, and not according to the laws of philology. this will be better understood from a case in point. i append the evidence respecting the traditions of the dove and the rainbow--which are just the incidents which are likely to have impressed the imagination and memory of mankind.[ ] [ ] it will hardly be denied that the tradition of the rainbow as a sign and pledge to man existed among the ancients. _vide_ bryant, ii. . [the goddess iris, who was sent with the _messages_ of the gods, bore the same name as the rainbow iris.] _e.g._ homer-- "[greek: irissin eoikotes has te kroniôn en nephehi stêrixe, teras meropôn anthrôpôn].--_il._ xi. . "like to the bow which jove amid the clouds placed _as a token to desponding man_." also--il. xvii. . [greek: hêute porphyreên irin thnêtoisi tanhussê zeus ex ouranothen teras emmenai]. "just as when jove mid the high heavens displays his bow mysterious for a _lasting sign_." and the lines (theog. v. ) in hesiod, in which iris is called the daughter of wonder, who is sent over the broad surface of the sea when strife and discord arose among the immortals, and who is also called "the _great oath_ of the gods"--["this is the token of the _covenant_ between you and me, for _perpetual generations_," gen. ix. .]--who is told to bring from afar in her golden pitcher the many-named water. iris is called the daughter of thaumas (which so closely approximates to the greek [greek: thauma] = wonder, bryant says to the egyptian "thaumus"). bryant further thinks that iris and eros were originally the same term, but that in time the latter was formed into the boyish deity cupid = eros. according to some, iris was the mother of eros by zephyrus. [there were indeed three eroses, which mark three different lines of tradition, _vide_ gladstone on iris (the rainbow), "homer and the homeric age," ii. .] eros (cupid), though a boy, was supposed to have been at the commencement of all things; and lucian says, "how came you with that childish face, when we know you to be as _old as japetus_?" the union of cupid and chaos (the deluge is frequently alluded to as chaos, _vide_ bryant) "gave birth to men and all the animals." hesiod makes eros the first to appear after chaos. "at this season (deluge) another era began; the earth was supposed to be renewed, and time to return to a second infancy. they therefore formed an emblem of a child with a rainbow, to denote this renovation of the world, and called him eros, or divine love," ... "yet esteemed the most ancient among the gods."--bryant, ii. . (cupid is represented with a bow, as is also apollo and diana, which was an allusion to the supposed resemblance of the bow and the rain_bow_.) probably from his connection with iris, he is represented as breaking the thunderbolts of jupiter, and riding on _dolphins_ and subduing other monsters of the sea. smith ("myth. dict.") says iris is derived from [greek: erô eirô], "so that iris would mean the speaker or messenger," ... "but it is not impossible that it may be connected with [greek: eirô], 'i join,' whence [greek: eirênê]; so that iris, the goddess of the rainbow, would be the joiner, or conciliator, or the messenger of heaven, who restores peace in nature," it appears to me more likely that [greek: eirênê] = _peace_ (derivation uncertain--liddell and scott) was derived directly from iris, in accordance with the tradition, and that the greek word for wool, [greek: eiros], was cognate to [greek: eirênê], from being an emblem of peace (_e.g._ the pontiff's caduceator, woollen veil). in the same way, if we do not actually find the rainbow as the token of the herald or caduceator, may we not discover it conversely in the circumstance that _iris_ is represented as carrying in her hand a _herald's_ staff? it is curious that we actually find, what i may call the sister emblem, viz. the dove, used by the ancients, though just as we find, if i am right in the conjecture, the rainbow among the polynesians, used in a perverted way as an ensign of war. it was possibly in superstitious remembrance of the tradition which we find more directly among the ancient aryans and the peruvians (p. - ), that war ought only to be made with a disposition towards peace; and that they thought to place themselves under the sanction of heaven by carrying this emblem as their ensign of war. such, however, was the fact. bryant (ii. ) says:--"the dove became a favourite hieroglyphic among the babylonians and chaldees.... in respect to the babylonians, it seems to have been taken by them for their national ensign, and to have been depicted on their military standard when they went to war. they seem likewise to have been styled iönim, or the children of _the dove_;" and they are thus alluded to by the prophet jeremiah, ch. xxv. ver. (_id._) bryant says (ii. ), "the name of the dove among the ancient amonians (by which term he intends the descendants of chus) was iön and iönah; sometimes expressed iönas, from whence came the [greek: oinas] of the greeks." i should rather put it that we find the word for the dove common to the hebrew and the greek (iönah, hebrew; [greek: oivas], greek), and, as bryant seems to imply, among other nations also--_e.g._ the babylonians--which is precisely what we should have expected. but if this identity is allowed, we must proceed with bryant to see in juno, venus, and diana, simply embodiments of the tradition of the dove. bryant says that "juno is the same as iöna," and although, as we have seen, the peacock is said to be her bird (with reference to the other symbol, the rainbow), and although ovid (bryant, ) sends her to heaven accompanied by iris (rainbow), yet in the plate (from gruter) p. , she will be seen with a dove on her wand, and a pomegranate, as symbol of the ark (_vide_ p. ), in her hand. bryant, moreover ( ), considers juno to be identical with venus. there was a statue in laconia called venus-junonia. of dione and venus bryant says (ii. ):--"i have mentioned that the name diona was properly ad, or ada, iöna. hence came the term idione; which idione was an object of idolatry as early as the days of moses. but there was a similar personage named deione.... this was a compound of de iöne, the dove; and venus dionoea may sometimes have been formed in the same manner.... dionusus was likewise called thyomus." _vide_ also bryant, pp. , . in genesis viii. , the dove returned to the ark, not having found "where her foot might rest." "in the hieroglyphical sculptures and paintings where this history was represented, the dove could not well be depicted otherwise than as hovering over the face of the deep. hence it is that venus or dione is said to have risen from the sea. hence it is, also, that she is said to preside over waters; to appease the troubled ocean; and to cause by her presence an universal calm; that to her were owing [on the retiring of the waters] the fruits of the earth.... she was the oenas ('[greek: oinas]') of the greeks; whence came the venus of the latins." the address of lucretius to this deity concludes with two lines of remarkable significance-- "te dea, te fugiunt venti; te nubila coeli adventumque tuum; tibi rident æquora ponti; _pacatumque_ nitet diffuso lumine _coelum_." "in sicily, upon mount eryx, was a celebrated temple of this goddess, which is taken notice of by cicero and other writers. doves were here held as sacred as they were in palestine or syria [_vide_ also in cashmere, p. ]. it is remarkable that there were two days of the year set apart in this place for festivals, called [greek: anagôgia] and [greek: katagôgia], at which time venus was supposed to _depart over the sea_, and after a season to return. there were _also sacred pigeons_, which then took their flight from the island; but one of them was observed on the ninth day to come back from the sea, and to fly to the shrine of the goddess. this was upon the festival of [greek: anagôgia]. upon this day it is said that there were great rejoicings. on what account can we imagine this veneration for the bird to be kept up, ... but for a memorial of the dove sent out of the ark, and of its return from the deep to noah? the history is recorded upon the ancient coins of eryx; which have on one side the head of _janus_ bifrons, and on the other the sacred dove."--bryant, ii. . mr cox's ("mythology," ii. ch. ii. sec. vii.) counter-explanation, if i rightly gather it, is that "on aphroditê (venus), the child of _the froth or foam of the sea_, was lavished all the wealth of words denoting the loveliness of the morning; and thus the hesiodic poet goes on at once to say that the grass sprung up under her feet as she moved, that eros, love, walked by her side, and himeros, longing, followed after her." "this is but saying, in other words, that the morning, the child of the heavens, springs up _first from_ the sea, as athene is born by the water-side." but why should the morning spring first from the sea?--more particularly when the effects of her rising is noted in the springing up of flowers on the land? if the rainbow, we see the reason in her connection with the deluge, and her connection with the subsequent renovation of nature. mr cox also says (p. ):--"in her brilliant beauty she is argunî, a name which appears again in that of arguna, the companion of krishna and the hellenic argynius." does not this complete the chain of her connection with juno? mr cox (p. ) says:--"the latin venus is, in strictness of speech, a mere name, to which any epithet might be attached according to the conveniences or the needs of the worshipper.... the name itself has been, it would seem, with good reason, connected with the sanscrit root 'van,' to desire love or favour,"--a derivation which equally accords with bryant's view. then there is the striking connection of venus with dionusos (_vide_ p. ). mr cox (p. ) says, "the myth of adonis links the legends of aphrodite (venus) with those _of dionusos_. like the theban _wine_-god adonis, born only on the death of his mother; and the two myths are, in one version, _so far the same_ that _dionysos_, like adonis, is placed _in a chest_, which, being _cast into the sea_, is carried to brasiæ, where the body of his mother is buried." (comp. kabiri, bunsen.) mr cox connects athene with aphrodite (venus) (p. ). therefore we must ask him to reconsider his explanation of "the athenian maidens embroidering the sacred peplos for _the ship_ presented to athêne at the great dionysiac festival." compare evidence, _supra_, in chap. on boulanger, &c.; catlin. the digression we have just made involves some risk of distracting attention from the point it was intended to enforce--viz. the traditionary character of the mode, and, by implication, the traditionary recognition of the obligation, of the declaration of war. we have already seen in ozanam (_supra_, p. ) indications of the probability of similar traditions among the primitive tribes of germany. will it clench the argument if we find romans and gauls on a common understanding in these matters, when brought for the first time into contact since their original separation?-- "the great misfortunes which befel the city from the gauls, are said to have proceeded from the violation of these sacred rites. for when the barbarians were besieging clusium, fabius ambustus was sent ambassador to their camp with proposals of peace, in favour of the besieged. but receiving a harsh answer, he thought himself released from his character of ambassador, and rashly taking up arms for the clusians, challenged the bravest man in the gaulish army. he proved victorious, ... but the gauls having discovered who he was, sent _a herald_ to rome to accuse fabius of bearing arms against them, contrary to _treaties and good faith_, and _without a declaration of war_. upon this the feciales exhorted the senate to deliver him up to the gauls, but he appealed to the people, and, being a favourite with them, was screened from the sentence. soon after this, the gauls marched to rome, and sacked the whole city except the capitol, as we have related at large in the life of camillus."--_plutarch's numa._ i venture further to think that the traditionary modes of the declaration of war may be detected among the gauls in cæsar's time, in the manner of their challenge. _e.g._ it so came about that cæsar wished to draw the enemy (the nervii) to his side of the valley and to engage them at a disadvantage before his camp. to this end he simulated fear. "our men meanwhile retiring from the rampart, they approached still nearer, _cast their darts_ on all sides within the trenches and _sent heralds_ round the camp to proclaim," &c. (duncan's cæsar, b. v. xlii.) we will now turn to the greek tradition. i quote from an old author who has examined the matter more fully than i find it treated elsewhere. rous. ("archæologiæ atticæ," lib. , s. , civ.) says:--"as careful and cunning as they were in warlike affairs, i cannot find but that they did 'propere signi quæ piget inchoare,' bear a great affection to _peace_; as may appear in their honourable receiving of ambassadors, to whom they gave hearing in no worse place than a _temple_.... the usual ensign carried by greek ambassadours was [greek: kêrykeon], _caduceus_,[ ] a right _staff of wood_ with snakes twisted about it and looking one another in the face.... if the peace could not be kept, but they must needs have war, yet they would be sure to give warning and fair play, and make proclamations of their intentions before they marcht. the manner in proclaiming war was to send a fellow of purpose _either to cast a spear_ or let loose _a lamb_ into the borders of the country, or into the city itself whither they were marching (which hesychius rather thinks to have been the signal before a battel), thereby showing them, that what was then a habitation for men, should shortly be a pasture for sheep."[ ] i should rather have thought that it had analogy with the jewish scapegoat; but, whatever the idea, it was apparently symbolled and commemorated in the _woollen_ veil prescribed to the roman pontiff in the declaration of war. it would seem, however, that the signal for battle (chap. v.) was "instead of sounding a trumpet, they had fellows whom they called [greek: pyrphorous], that went before with torches, and throwing them down in the midst between the two armies, gave the sign.... now, this business they might do safely and without any danger, ... for the torch-bearers were peculiarly protected by mars, and accounted sacred."[ ] [ ] _vide ante_, . that the entwined snakes were of late date would appear, i think, from the allusions to the suppliants' wands in Æschylus, _e.g._ (_vide_ plumtre's Æschylus, "libation pourers," v. ) when orestes puts on the suppliants wreaths, and takes the olive branch in his hand-- "the branch of _olive_ from the topmost growth, with amplest tufts of _white wool_ meetly wreathed." and in the supplicants ( )-- "holding in one hand the branches suppliant, wreathed with _white wool_ fillets." [ ] also, "joannis meursii themis athica, sive de legibus alticis," i. xi. says, "postquam vero exercitus eductus esset pugnam inire, non _licebat antiquam_ emissum agmen hostium quis, hunc _expectans accepisset_." [ ] this has something in common with the fiery cross sent round by the highlanders as the summons to war. in another aspect it has resemblances with the indian mode of declaration of war. "the manner in which the indians declare war against each other is by sending a slave with a hatchet, the handle of which is painted _red_, to the nation which they intend to break with; and the messenger, notwithstanding the danger to which he is exposed from the sudden fury of those whom he thus sets at defiance, executes his commission with great fidelity."--_carver's "travels in north america,"_ p. . the sense of national responsibility in war, and the reluctance of kings to involve themselves without the consent of their people would appear from oeschylos' "supplicants" (v. , ). i have referred (p. ) to the peruvian traditions of manco capac's laws of war, and that "in every stage of the war the peruvian was open to propositions for peace." from the hindoo tradition, apparently, manu's code was conceived in an identical spirit. (_vide_ "hist. of india," "the hindu and mahometan periods," by the hon. mountstuart elphinstone; murray, , ch. ii. p. .) "the laws of war (manu's code) are honourable and humane. poisoned arrows and mischievously barbed arrows and fire arrows are all prohibited." [dr hooker, in his "himalayan journal," mentions a similar tradition among the limboos, i think, or lepchas.[ ]] "there are many situations in which it is by no means allowable to destroy the enemy. among those who must always be spared are unarmed or wounded men, and those who have broken their weapons, and one who says, 'i am thy captive.' other prohibitions are still more generous.... the settlement of a conquered country is conducted on equally liberal principles. immediate security is to be assured to all by proclamation. the religion and laws of the country are to be maintained and respected." and i have fancied (_vide_ ) that the recognition at least of such a tradition, if it be only the "homage which vice pays to virtue," is to be read in the devices carried by the babylonians.[ ] [ ] that there may be limitations to the horrors of war, seems to be established by the instance of the prohibition of explosive bullets. i read in the _times_ (march , ):--"the _british medical journal_ declares its opinion that the charges which have been put forward of _explosive bullets_ having been used by the contending armies have been groundless; and is inclined to believe that the _articles of the st petersburg convention_ have been _faithfully adhered to_, notwithstanding the mutual recriminations to the contrary by both french and german governments." [ ] indirect evidence of the importance formerly attached to the declaration of war may, i think, be discovered in the formal addresses and invocations of the gods by the homeric heroes previous to combat, which to us seem so forced and unnatural; and the same sentiment was noticed by the spaniards, when they first came over, among the peruvians, who did not neglect the punctilio of the declaration of war even in their most high-handed aggressions, _e.g_. garcilasso de la vega (hakluyt soc. ed. ii. ) says--"the invaders sent _the usual summons_ that the people might not be able to allege afterwards that they had been taken unawares." there was, moreover, a law at athens which forbade them to declare war until after a deliberation of three days--"bellum vero antequam decerneretur, triduo deliberare lex jubebat" (apsines, marcell. in hermog. ap. j. meursii them. att., l. i. c. xi.); and we have seen that the senate at rome postponed the declaration of war for thirty days. i cannot help thinking, though it is the merest surmise, that it is in the dim recollection of some such tradition that we must account for the meaningless and superstitious delays which we occasionally read of in the warfare of barbarous nations; _e.g_. cæsar (de bello gallico, i. xl. c.) had drawn up his troops and offered the enemy battle, but ariovistus thought proper to sound a retreat. "cæsar inquiring of the prisoners why ariovistus so obstinately refused an engagement, found that it was the custom among the germans for _the women_ to decide by lots and divination when it was proper to decide a battle; and that these had declared the army would not be victorious if they fought _before the new moon_."[ ] [there was also a law at athens that it was not lawful to lead forth an army before the seventh day of the month. "vetitum athenis erat, exercitum educere ante diem septimum."] j. muersii, _id._ [ ] carver ("travels in north america," p. ) says of the indians--"sometimes private chiefs make excursions.... these irregular sallies, however, are not always approved of by the elder chiefs, though they are often obliged to connive at them.... but when war is national, and undertaken by the community, their deliberations are formal and slow. the elders assemble in council, to which all the head warriors and young men are admitted, when they deliver their opinions in solemn speeches; weighing with maturity the nature of the enterprise they are about to engage in, and balancing with great sagacity the advantages or inconveniences that will arise from it. their priests are also consulted on the subject, and even sometimes the advice of the most intelligent of _their women_ is asked. if the determination be for war they prepare for it with much ceremony." i have discussed the ancient mode of declaration of war at some length as an instance of tradition. there are some, i am afraid, to whom the discussion will appear ineffably trifling; and i may even be misconstrued to say that everything would be set right in europe, if only a herald were sent in proper form to declare war. there are men of a certain cast of mind to whom forms are repugnant; there are others to whom they are unintelligible. it has been observed, however, that the rejection of forms is one thing, the neglect of them another. the rejection of forms may be, on some principle, good, though misapplied, often does unconscious homage when it means to spurn, and may be compensated for in other ways. the neglect of them is simply evidence of laxity. cromwell perfectly well knew the divinity which attached to forms when he said, "take away that bauble;" and, on the other hand, no one better than he would have judged the state of an army (not his own) in which he was told that it was the custom of soldiers not to salute their officers. the declaration of war without any solemnity, still more the commencement of hostilities without any declaration at all,[ ] seems to me closely analogous--as a sign of disorganisation--to the absence of any form of salute at a parade. i am far from contending that old forms, when they have become obsolete, can be resuscitated; but i do contend for the resuscitation of ancient maxims and ideas. in any age fully imbued with the responsibility of war, in which it was considered unseemly to declare it until after a three days' deliberation in solemn conclave, and which even then protracted the declaration till the seventh or the thirtieth day, would it have been possible for two great nations to have gone to war because there had been "a breach of etiquette," if indeed there was a breach of etiquette, "at a german watering-place?"[ ] allowing that this was merely the ostensible pretext, and that the real grounds remained behind--if these long deliberations had been necessarily interposed, would there not have been a thousand chances in favour of such a european intervention as saved the peace of europe three years before in the affair of luxembourg? yet, so far as we know at present, the following is the history of the commencement of the most horrible, the most destructive, and the most barbarous war[ ] of modern times. [ ] "in ancient times war was solemnly declared either by certain fixed ceremonies or by the announcement of heralds; and a war commenced without such declaration was regarded as informal and irregular, and contrary to the usages of nations. grotius says that a declaration of war is not necessary by the law of nations--"naturali jure nulla requiritur declaratio," but _that it was required by the law of nations, jure gentium_, by which term, be it remembered, he means the usages of nations. and in this he was right, as until the age in which he lived wars were almost invariably preceded by solemn declarations. the romans, according to albericus gentilis, did not grant a triumph for any war which had been commenced without a formal declaration (de jure belli, c. ii. § i.); but the greeks do not seem to have been at all regular in the observance of the custom (bynkershock, quæs. jur. pub., l. i. c. ii.) during the times of chivalry declarations of war were usually given with great formality, the habits of knighthood being carried into the customs of general warfare, and it being held mean to fall upon an adversary when unprepared to defend himself (ward, introd. ii. - ). with the decline of chivalry this custom fell into disuse. gustavus adolphus invaded germany without any declaration of war (zouch, de judicio inter gentes, p. ii. § x. ); but this appears to have been _an exception_ to the usages of the age, and clarendon speaks of declarations of war as being customary in his time, and blames the war in which the duke of buckingham went to france, as entered into 'without so much as the formality of a declaration from the king, containing the ground and provocation and end of it, according to custom and obligation in the like cases.' formal denunciations of war _by heralds_ were discontinued about the time of grotius; the last instance having been, according to voltaire, when louis xiii. sent a herald to brussels to declare war against spain in ."--_w. oke manning's commentaries on law of nations._ [ ] "looking back on the history of the autumn ... we may yet be impressed by the conviction that, had the union of the _european family of nations_ been strengthened as it might have been before the war broke out, it might never have been begun, or would have long since terminated. the treaty of paris put on record a declaration in favour of arbitration, but it proved to be worthless when sought to be applied."--_times_, feb. , . i shall have a word to say presently on the declaration of the treaty of paris. [ ] it must not be forgotten, however, that it was the revolution in paris which gave this war its abnormal character, and created situations for which the law of nations had no precedents, or precedents only which were of doubtful application. "a private letter from paris relates that the duc de grammont, who has taken to spend his evenings at the jockey club, was lately asked there, 'how he came to blunder into such a fatal war?'[ ] he replied, 'i asked the minister of war, leboeuf, if he was ready, and he answered, "ready! ay, and doubly ready;" _otherwise_,' added the duc, 'i should have taken care not _to have counselled_ a war which there _were twenty modes of averting_.'"--_times_, sept. , .[ ] [ ] compare _infra_, p. . [ ] compare with the following account of the declaration of war by m. f. de champagny, de l'acad. fr., in the _correspondant_, juin :--"a government wrongly inspired proposed to us a war. without asking it why it wished to make it, without asking if it could make it, without reflection, without discussion, without listening to the men of name and experience, who implored of us _at least twenty-four hours for reflection_, we accepted this war, i do not say with enthusiasm, but with frivolous levity, not as crusaders, but as children. it seemed to us sufficient to tipple in the 'cafés,' singing the 'marseillaise,' to intoxicate the soldiers, to throw squibs into what were then called sensational journals, to cry 'à berlin!' in order to go right off to berlin. and when it was discovered that we were not going on at all to berlin, but that berlin was coming to paris, that this enthusiasm of the 'café' did not cause armies to spring into life, what was our resource? always the same: to overthrow a government!" the extent of the disorganisation and the laxity into which we have fallen, appears perhaps as strikingly as in any anything else in the frequency of the complaints of the little regard paid to "parlémentaires" and officers bearing flags of truce. but what startles us more than all is the light manner in which this transgression of the law of nations is referred to even by the parties aggrieved. i will here place two extracts which i have made in juxtaposition:-- carver ("travels in north america," p. ) says, that when a deputation sets out together for their enemy's country with propositions of peace, "they bear before them the pipe of peace, which, i need not inform my readers, is of the same nature _as a flag of truce_ among the europeans, and is treated with the greatest respect and veneration _even by the most barbarous_ nations. _i never heard of an instance_ wherein the _bearers of this sacred_ badge of friendship were ever treated disrespectfully, or its rights violated. the indians believe that the great spirit _never suffers an infraction_ of this kind to go unpunished." count chandordy, in his reply to count bismarck, dated bordeaux, jan. , , says:--"count bismarck reproaches the french armies with having _fired on parlémentaires_." an accusation of this nature had already been brought to the knowledge of the paris government, and we may quote the following words of m. jules favre in his circular of th january--"i have the satisfaction to acquaint your excellency that the governor of paris has hastened to order an inquiry into the facts alleged by count bismarck, and in announcing this to him he has brought _much more numerous facts_ of the same nature to his own cognizance which are imputed to prussian sentinels, but _which he never would have allowed to interrupt ordinary relations_." i do not know whether this contrast between barbarism, such as it existed in the last century, and modern civilisation, will astonish those partisans of success whom in truth nothing in all the multiform atrocities of this dreadful war seems to have astonished or shocked, so that it was at times almost ludicrous to hear these _introuvables_ declare such things as the bombardment of hospitals and churches, as at strasburg and paris, quite right, which even the german commanders, when the matter was brought to their attention, admitted to be wrong. this perhaps is the worst symptom of corruption we have yet seen, and yet there was a time, and that quite recent, when a different sentiment prevailed. i have just referred[ ] to the declaration in the treaty of paris, which thought to inaugurate a new era by bringing all causes of conflict in europe to a settlement of arbitration. but let no one be discouraged or cease to believe in the possibility of such a consummation because of the result. there never was a stronger instance of the intellect of the world vainly striving to create an international code and system for itself which was to be distinct from the law of nations; for at the same moment that the diplomatists who were collected in paris set to work upon their tower, which was to erect itself above the waters of any future inundation, they one and all agreed to demolish, and as a first step to pull down, the cornerstone from the temple of the past. how this was brought about will best be told in an extract from the count de montalembert's "pie ix. et la france en et ," p. :-- "let us go back to the origin of the evil, ... it dates back more especially from the congress of paris in , from that diplomatic reunion which, after having solemnly declared that none of the contracting powers _had the right to interfere either collectively or individually in the relations of a sovereign with his subjects_ (protocol of th march), after having proclaimed the principle of the absolute independence of the sovereigns, for the benefit of the turkish sultan against his christian subjects, thought it within its competency, in its protocol of the th of april, and in the absence of any representative of the august accused, to proclaim that the situation of the pontifical states was 'abnormal' and 'irregular.' this accusation developed and exaggerated at the tribune, and elsewhere by lord palmerston and count cavour, was equally formulated under the presidency and upon the initiative of the minister of foreign affairs in france, and it is consequently france which must bear the principal responsibility before the church and europe. we can recall the grief and surprise which this strange proceeding created in the catholic world." [ ] _vide_ note , p. . thus was the game set rolling; and the policy thus indicated was pursued with the eager and unrelenting pertinacity of some, and with the tacit approval of the rest of the co-signatories. the war declared by france against austria, which was the precipitating cause of the storm which broke upon the papal states, can, it is true, only be regarded as evidence of the conspiracy--inasmuch as it was declared by one of the conspirators at the instigation of another, whose ultimate aim was the seizure of the states of the church and of the other independent italian sovereignties to the profit of piedmont. so soon as the victory of the french arms was decided, the emperor's proclamation from milan appeared, inciting the populations to insurrection. all then followed in sequence--the revolt of the romagnas four days after the milan manifesto, their annexation along with the other independent states of central italy by piedmont, this annexation being effected with the connivance, if not the consent, of france, and for which payment was eventually made in the cession of nice and savoy (all this being in contravention of the treaties of villafranca and zurich). but what mattered the contravention of treaties in comparison with the scenes which followed? the programme of the congress, or, if that is denied, the programme of two (if not three, for it is difficult to acquit lord palmerston and lord john russell of participation by consent) of the powers who had entered into the conspiracy against european order, and these, at that time, the powers in the highest state of military efficiency, was to be carried out _per fas et nefas_. naples and the patrimony of st peter had to be secured, and as they morally presented no vulnerable side, they were seized by the hand of the marauder in defiance of "all law, human and divine."[ ] garibaldi's descent on sicily, effected under the cover of the english navy, was simply a brusque and flagrant act of piracy, for which no plea of justification has ever been set up. the usurpation of the papal states, though not less ruthlessly accomplished in the end, was carried through with more regard to form in its preliminary stages; yet at the last the diplomatic mask was torn off, and the invasion was made without any pretext or justification known to the law of nations, and without even a declaration of war. [ ] these were the words which the marquis of bath had the courage to use in the house of lords when everybody else was joining in a ludicrous "dirge of homage" to cavour. i wish to put this protest, as well as the similar protests of the marquis of normanby and the earl of donoughmore on record, as there may come a time when england will be glad to recur to them. here, again, the imperial diplomacy and italian intrigue went hand in hand. lamoriciere, in reliance upon the honour of france, had made _all his dispositions against garibaldi_, and had received a letter from the french ambassador as late as the th september (bearing the same date as the so-called ultimatum of cavour, although the piedmontese troops had crossed the frontier before it was delivered), which i shall here reproduce, seeing that it is not on record in the _annuaire des deux mondes_ ( )--"i inform you by the emperor's orders that the piedmontese _will not_ enter the roman states, and that , french are about to occupy the different places of those states. make, then, all your dispositions against garibaldi.--le duc de grammont."[ ] (this letter was dated september , , the battle of castelgidardo was fought on the th september .) it is needless to add that no reinforcements from france appeared, and that the assurance served no other purpose than to mislead, and to throw lamoriciere off his guard. indeed, in spite of various protestations and the subsequent withdrawal of the french ambassador from turin, the catholic world settled down into the belief, not only that the emperor of the french had never had the intention of sending troops to the rescue, but that the whole scheme of the invasion had been deliberately devised at the ominous interview which took place on the th of august previous, between the emperor, farini, and general cialdini. it was even said that the words used by the emperor on the occasion transpired, "frappez fort et frappez vite,"--a terse and striking phrase, which will fitly perpetuate in the human memory the most flagrant violation of the law of nations which history affords.[ ] [ ] _vide_ "current events," in _rambler_, . [ ] "does the faith of treaties, the right of treaties, still exist? look at what has happened in europe during the last twenty years. the treaties made with the church were the first violated; they have declared that a 'concordat' is nothing more than a law of the state, which the state can alter at will--in other words, that, unlike all other contracts, conventions of this nature, inviolable for one of the parties, can be broken by the other at its pleasure; kings have thus put the church outside the law of nations. but, in consequence, they have excluded themselves. when the most sacred of all treaties were thus trampled upon, how would they have the others respected? they have even written, or caused to be written, on a solemn occasion ('napoleon iii. et l'italie, ') that treaties no longer bind when the general sentiment declares against them; in other terms, when they displease us. at this epoch, in , we were disputing with austria a possession which all treaties had guaranteed to her, and the neutral signatories of these treaties did not protest. victorious over austria, we have in our turn made a treaty with her; and this treaty was violated when scarcely signed; and neither we nor the rest of europe protested. later on, the dissensions between germany and denmark ended in a treaty, which the rest of europe guaranteed; but soon germany broke this treaty by force of arms, and europe did not say a word. i omit here the convention of september, ... the treaty of . on all these occasions the indifference of third parties has come to the aid of the cupidity of the aggressors; and the moral sense has been so far wanting in the cabinets that they have assisted and applauded acts of brigandage for the love of the art, and without even thinking that the brigand, when he grew strong, would fall on the morrow on themselves. will you find in european history twelve years so fruitful in pledges and perjuries?" all this was done with the undisguised satisfaction of several veteran english statesmen, who were, moreover, directly or indirectly represented at the same congress which sought to bind the european powers to call in the arbitration of a friendly power, in case of disagreement, before making an appeal to arms. now there is no reason why this rule, good in itself, and congruous to the spirit and maxims of the law of nations, should not have been embodied as a fundamental article in the code; for the law of nations is not a dead-letter, but, like everything that is of tradition, easily lending itself to adaptation and development according to the changing circumstances of the world. can we be surprised that this principle, good and according to reason, but which nevertheless presupposes certain sentiments in the world in correspondence with it, should in the actual circumstances have been barren of results? is it wonderful that it should have miscarried in the hands of men who were parties to the invasion, without even the form of a declaration of war, of the state predestined by divine providence to be the cornerstone of christendom? would it have been befitting that this beneficent arrangement should have been destined to be the work of men who, either by participation or as accessories after the fact, had set their hands to a deed which shocked every principle of morality, and made the very notion of public law in europe ridiculous? the early commencements of this policy cannot be studied at a more appropriate moment than now, when we are witnessing its _denouement_. what has been the result to france of its italian policy? to austria? to england? to europe? has any power prospered that had a hand in setting the ball rolling, or, for that matter, any power that had the responsibility of staying the parricidal hand, and held back? if austria, the first victim, had firmly and strenuously resisted the early instigations of evil, would she ever, according to human calculations, have had to fight at magenta and solferino? and, in another way, was there not something dramatic in the sudden reverse and displacement of count buol, who had been the austrian representative at the congress, immediately after he had hurled the fatal _ultimatum_? the retort will be triumphant. did not france, the great culprit of all, who both cast its own responsibility to the winds and sowed the hurricane, conquer at solferino? truly she did; but _respice finem_, or rather, we may say, we have lived to see the end. did not solferino, after some ten years of delusive prosperity, lead up to sedan? of england i do not wish to say more than that since that date she has unaccountably fallen in the esteem of men; has, in her turn, met with injustice, and no longer maintains the same relative position which she held during the fifty years preceding the congress. everything, in fine, since that date, seems to have gone in favour of that european power which remained in the background, and which, if it did no good act at the congress, at least had the worldly wisdom to fold its arms and refrain from sacrilege. yes, prussia has had her victory; but by all accounts there never was a victory which has made a nation so sad and mournful, and which was greeted with fewer manifestations of joy. it was peace rather than victory which was welcomed home. here, too, we seem to see the subtle and nicely-measured retaliation. again, was there no significance in the unlooked-for disasters at forbach and woerth, occurring coincidently with the final abandonment of rome by france? these are things which strike the eye, but which are difficult of demonstration, and it would appear a hopeless errand to convince a generation which has witnessed the burning of paris, if not without emotion, at any rate without serious reflection, and, in spite of manifest prediction, has refused to see in it "the finger of retribution and the hand of god." and yet belief in this retribution of heaven is at the foundation of the law of nations. previously to the astounding experiences of the recent war, during those years so fruitful "in pledges and perjuries," it was a common phrase, and most frequently used with reference to france, that war was no longer an affair of divine providence, but that providence was always on the side of the big battalions. with one word as to the significance of this phrase, which is tantamount to a negation of the law of nations, i shall conclude. it may certainly happen, that in a contest one party may be consciously hypocrite, whilst the other is conscious of its rectitude; but presumedly, and until the contrary is manifested, both parties must be supposed to believe themselves in the right, and to run the tilt like knights in the mediæval tournament. nevertheless, as dr johnson said, there are arguments for a "plenum" and for a "vacuum," but one conclusion only can be true; and in some way in every conflict, which is true and which is just is known only to the inscrutable judgment of the most high. we do not know all the secrets of courts, neither could we exactly determine the point if we had before us all the deliberations of councils, it is sufficient for us to know that victory is not always on the side of the big battalions, as witness, _inter alia_, marathon, morgarten, bannockburn, lepanto, mentana. will any englishman maintain the proposition that victory is always on the side of the big battalions? then, beginning with cressy and poictiers, and following marlborough through the fields of blenheim, ramilies, and malplaquet, and the duke of wellington through the peninsular war, we must renounce that which gives "the _éclat_ to all our victories." doubtless, then, the quality of troops will in some instances weigh far more than numbers. you allow it? we now introduce an element of great uncertainty, and about which there will always be much dispute, and moreover it will always be a matter concerning which religion and morality will have much to say. it is no longer an affair of big battalions, it is no longer reduced to a matter of calculation, on which side the victory is to be. let me further remark, that whilst there is one set of writers who will be ready to say that providence is on the side of the big battalions, there is another set of writers, and these the men who are more conversant with the details, who will with great acuteness undertake to prove to you that it is so much an affair of providence that in each case the victory was scarcely a victory, and only such because some casualty on the other side intervened to convert what would otherwise have been a victory into a defeat. it is unfortunately true that this latter class of historians and strategists do not, as a rule, trace in the turn of events the retribution of providence. still, the presumption will always be that victory favours the righteous cause, although it may be only _pro hac vice_, and ultimate success may not crown the career of the victorious nation, because its virtues may not have merited more than a signal and single success;--or it may even be that its merits may be of a kind such as to gain it a reward which transcends the rewards of earthly victory; or, again, the career of victory must be explained and measured by the depths of the final catastrophe and discomfiture. in any case, it is a great thing for a nation to have won a victory in a rightful cause. the reward of virtue remains and gladdens the heart in the day of disaster and distress. whatever may chance to us, there will always lie in store for us the consolation of reading the history of the battle of waterloo; not, let us say, as the victory of one nation over another nation, but as the great and final triumph of a righteous over an unrighteous cause, gained by england. it is, thank god! impossible alike for the conqueror and the revolutionary multitude to destroy the past. index. aboriginal races, their mysterious origin, . acton, lord, . adam, supposed identity with prometheus and hercules, , ; with fohi, , ; meaning of the word, ; correspondence of, with chaldæan god, ana, . adams, mr arthur, . adaptability of law of nations, . adonis and venus, myths of, , . adrastus, the legend of, . Æneid, the, of virgil quoted, . Æschylus, the "supplicants" of, quoted, . africa, commemorative ceremonies of deluge, , ; captain burton's account of, ; compared with catlin's narrative, - . _see also_ deluge, commemorative festivals. africanus, . age of bronze, the, , ; commencement of, . age, the golden, ; theory of and commencement, ; tradition of, . age, the iron, . agnatic relationship, , , . algonquins, the, . allies, mr, on divergence between religion and philosophy, . america, the mozca indians of, ; diluvian traditions in, ; the "o-kee-pa" of the mandans, , ; catlin's account of ceremonies, - ; the peruvian deity, ; peruvian worship, . _see also_ deluge, commemorative festivals. america, the discovery of, a proof of tradition, . american continent, source of peoples of, - . american indians, the legend of michabo among the, , ; tradition of fire among, . amida or adima, the japanese god, . amphictyonic council and league, - . ana, a chaldæan god, ; traditional identity of with adam, ; a reduplication of enu or enoch, . ancestors, worship of, , . ancient society, the unit of, . andamans, the, , . andriossy's hypothesis regarding overflow of the nile, . anthisteries, the, . antiquity of man, . apollo, . apotheosis of nimrod, . arab and iroquois, exceptional instances of human progress, . arba-lisun, the, or four tongues, . arbitration instead of war, . areopagus, a cosmopolitic, . argos, feast of the deluge at, . argyll, duke of, on tradition, , ; on capability of savage races, . arrival and conflict of different races in india, - . aryan nations in india, their struggle with the santals, ; their dialect, ; mr tylor on, ; one of the primitive races, ; probable identity with japhetic race, ; their colour, ; their mythology, . ash, the, tradition regarding, , . assemblies of greece, the, . assyrian history, corroboration of, . assyrian mythology, ; deities of, ; il or ra, ; l'abbe gainet on, ; ana, ; bil or enu, ; hea or hoa, ; nebo, . asteropoeus, . astral religion, . astronomical cycle of china, . athens, the hydrophoria at, . atlantis, the, of plato an embodiment of tradition, . autochthones, or earth-born, . avocations of primitive life--hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, . babylonian chronology, , ; hales on, . bacchus, connection of, with saturnalia, ; reduplications of, , . baldr, the legend of, localised and individualised, ; in the scandinavian edda, ; paralleled with an account of the fall, . ballad, welsh, quoted, . basis of international law, . basis of theory of golden age, . baskets of water, the, parallel accounts of by burton and catlin, . bastian, m.a., on human progress, . bath, the marquis of, . bel nipru or nimrod, . belligerent rights, , . belus, the god, ; identity of with nimrod, . bentham, on international law, , ; his peculiar crotchet, "utility," ; on public opinion, ; the "greatest happiness" principle, ; criticism on blackstone's views of primitive life, . benthamism tested by darwinism, . berosus' account of hoa, . bertrand, m., legend concerning the man-bull, . "bhilsa tope," the, . bifrons, a name applied to several gods, . big battalions, , . big canoe, the, parallel accounts of, by burton and catlin, ; correspondence of to the canopied boat of egyptians, . bil or enu, a chaldæan deity, . blackness of complexion, the result of the curse of canaan, ; associated with evil, ; traditions regarding, , ; a mark of inferiority, ; how used by satirists, ; operation as a curse, , . blackstone on primitive life and a state of nature, . boat, philology of the word, . bochica, . bolabola, declaration of war at, , . bonzies, the, . book of genesis, the, . book of sothis, . bougainville on divinities of the tahitians, . boulanger, m., quoted, ; on diluvian tradition, , , , ; on the golden age, , . brace, mr, his "ethnology," quoted, , , . "breach of etiquette," a, consequences of, ; the ostensible pretext of franco-german war, . brigham young and the mormons, . _british medical journal_ on explosive bullets, . bronze age, the, , , ; its commencement, . bryant, mr j., xi.; on creation of man, , ; on the symbol of the bull, ; on dionusus, ; on noah and janus, ; his derivation of juno and venus, ; on the dove, . buddhist legend, . buffaloes, feast of the, . "bull-dance," the, ; parallel accounts of, by burton and catlin, . bunsen, baron, ; on chinese and egyptian chronology, - , ; on egyptian chronicles, - ; on tradition of creation, ; on the kabiri, ; on arya, . burial customs among mandans and formosans, . burial, mode of, common to several savage nations, . burton, capt. richard, on fetish, ; on dahome customs, ; the bull-dance, ; the big canoe, ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds or calabashes, ; the "aged white man," , ; customs at whydat, . burton, j. hill, . cadmus and alphabetic writing, . caduceatores, the, . cain, tradition in tonga connected with, . calmet on "sem," or shem, ; on saturn, . canaan. _see_ chanaan. canada, col. macdonell's service in, xxiii., xxiv. canaanite race, the correspondence between and aboriginal tribes in india, , ; literal fulfilment of prophecy regarding, , , , . canopied boat, the, of the egyptians, . carver, mr, on indian wars, ; the indian mode of declaration of war, , ; indian flags of truce, . cashmir, tradition of deluge in, ; commemorative festival in, . catholicism and christianity, identity of, . catlin, mr g., on traditions of creation among the indians, , ; of deluge, ; the "o-kee-pa," ; the big canoe, ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds or calabashes used by the indians, ; the "first man," , ; the "evil spirit," ; water ceremonies, ; on the pheasant, ; description of a "whale ashore" at vancouver's island, ; on the cranial development of the flathead and crow indians, . caverley's theocritus quoted, . centre of tradition, the, . ceremony at gorbio, . chaldæa, early inhabitants of, . chaldæan pantheon, deities of the, . chaldæan system of chronology, ; religion, . champagny, m. f. de, , . chanaan, or canaan, the curse of, ; tradition of this curse among the sioux indians, ; in tonga, . chandordy, count, . chaos in the phoenician cosmogony, ; the commencement of all things, - . chateaugay, xxviii. china, certain and uncertain history of, , ; astronomical cycle of, ; aboriginal tribes, ; belief in, as to creation of man, . chinese chronology, - ; confusion in, . chinese tradition of first and second heaven, . chin-nong, . chippeways and natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, . choctaw indians, tradition regarding creation of man, . christian doctrine, the foundation of, . chronicles of egypt, . chronology, egyptian, palmer on, - ; the sothic cycle, - ; various systems of, . chronology, from the point of view of science, ; bunsen's views, ; lyell's, ; sir john lubbock's, - ; hales on, . chronology, from the point of view of tradition, ; historical testimony and evidence in favour of scriptural, ; indian, ; babylonian, ; hales, rev. w., on, ; chinese, - . chronos, saturn as, . cicero, on international law, ; "de legibus" quoted, ; the "offices," . civilisation, a state of, the primitive condition of man, . civilisation, principles and teaching of, . civilisation, progress of man to, , . cognation and agnation among the romans, , . coincidences of the bible with sanchoniathon, . coleridge, h. n., on oral transmission of tradition, . coleridge, rev. henry j., ; on conflicting elements of heathenism, . college, the fecial, . colour in man, persistency of, . coloured cloth and feathers, emblematic of peace and war, - , . commemorative festivals. _see_ festivals, commemorative. comity of nations, restriction of the . communal marriage, , . commune, the, . communistic schemes, . comte and the comtists, . conflicting elements of heathenism, . confusion of tongues, hesiod on the, . confusion of tradition of enoch with xisuthrus and noah, . conscience, mr darwin on, , ; its subjective existence, ; outward expression, . constituent assembly, the, of , montalembert on, . cook, capt., on customs at huaheine, , ; quoted, ; on declaration of war at bolabola, , . copan, the peaceable people of, . cosmogony, roman ideas of the, . cosmopolitic areopagus, a, . cox, rev. g. w., xiv.; on mythology, , , ; on myths of venus and adonis, , . cranial development of flathead and crow indians, . creation of man, tradition of among red indians, ; max müller on, . creation, the, mexican tradition of, , ; slavonian account of, . creoles, the persistency of colour in, . cunningham, major, the "bhilsa tope," . curse of canaan, the, ; traditions of, - , . customs of the samoides, ; at huaheine, . cycle, astronomical, of china, ; the sothic, , - . dagon, the god of the philistines, ; the fish-man, ; mr layard on, . dahome, the "so-sin" customs of, , , - ; precedence of women in, . dancing an indian ceremonial, , . d'anselme, vicomte, on philology of noah and boat, . darkness, associated with the serpent, ; the parent of light, - . darwinism, benthamism tested by, . darwin on conscience, , ; and the utilitarians, - . davies, rev. e., xi., . day and night, used as symbols, . declaration of war, the, ; accompanied by religious formalities, , ; method of, at bolabola, , ; at st julian, ; symbols used at, - ; plutarch on, ; traditionary modes of, - ; importance attached to forms of, ; consequences of the violation of forms of, - . deities of the chaldæan pantheon, . "de legibus" quoted, , . de quincey, quoted, . deluge of deucalion, the, , , . deluge of ogyges, the, ; anterior to that of deucalion, ; its date, . deluge, the--traditions of, localised in china, - ; commemorative monument of, ; traditions of, in egypt, ; in cashmir, ; among sioux indians, ; among tartar tribes, ; l'abbé gainet on, ; phrygian legend of, ; phoenician legend of, localised, ; santal legend of, ; etruscan monument commemorative of, ; connection of saturn with, - ; of ogyges and deucalion, ; traditions of, among indian tribes, ; sanscrit story of, ; its date, ; traditions of, among greeks, - ; frederick schlegel on, , ; traditions of, in africa and america, ; boulanger on, , ; commemorative festivals of, - , - , - ; the dove and rainbow of, , . _see also_ noah. "democracy in america," tocqueville's, . demonolatry, . "de rerum natura" quoted, . deucalion, ; mr grote on traditions of, , ; max müller on legend of, ; mr kenrick on, - , ; connected with hydrophoria at athens, . devil, the, belief in among savages . devil-worship, . diana, the temple of, . diffusion of hamitic races, . dike and dikaspoloi, . diluvian tradition. _see_ noah, deluge. diluvian traditions in africa and america, - . _see_ deluge. festivals (commemorative). diogenes laertius' scheme of chronology, . dionusus, identified with noah, ; the first king of india, , . dionysia, . discovery of america, the, a proof of tradition, . dispersion, the, , ; rise of government under, . disraeli, mr, on sceptical effects of discoveries of science, xvi., xvii. distribution of races, . divergence between religion and philosophy, . divinities of the tahitians, . divinity attaching to forms, , . dixon, hepworth, his conversation with brigham young, ; his views of human progress, . donoughmore, earl of, . dove, the bird of venus, ; traditions of, - . duc de grammont, the, . dyaks and javanese, contrast in colour, . dyans, . dyer, dr, on the sabines, ; the temple of diana, . dynasties of egypt, , , , . dynasty of the popes, , . eastern islanders, tradition among the, . egg, the mundane, tradition of, ; an emblem of the creation, ; the mahabarata account of, . egypt, chronology of, ; its chronicles, ; dynasties of, ; commemorative festival of the deluge in, . egyptian chronology, palmer on, - . egyptians, the, canopied boat of, ; jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from, . ellis's "polynesian researches" quoted, ; on tahitian relics, . endogamy, - , . english socialists, . enoch, result of his disappearance regarding nimrod, ; embodied traditionally in chaldæan gods ana and enu, . enu or bil, a chaldæan deity, ; a reduplication of enoch, . _epi_metheus (afterthought) and _pro_metheus (forethought), . epochs of prehistoric archæology, , . equality of the sexes, . eratosthenes, ; scheme of chronology of, . eros and iris, . eschylus, the "supplicants" quoted, . esquimaux, the, . ethnological difficulties, - . etruscan monument commemorative of the deluge, . etymologies--of _man_, , , ; _noah_, ; _boat_, ; _river_, ; _horse_, , ; _plough_, ; names of metals, ; _fire_, ; _plough_, . euridike and orpheus, . european league, a general, , . european radicalism, . eusebius' testimony to value of tradition, . evil associated with blackness, . evil spirit, the, in mandan ceremonies, . "excursion," the, of wordsworth quoted, . exogamy, - . falconer's "palæontological mem.," . fall, the, lenormant on, . family, the, ; tendency to dispersion of, ; gradual consolidation and expansion into tribes and then to states, , ; the unit of ancient society, . family tradition, confusion of, . fatimala, the, . feast of the buffaloes, the, . feathers, coloured, emblematic of peace and war, - . fecial college, the, ; correspondence of, with herald's college, . federal union between romans and latins, . feegees, the, religion among, ; their characteristics and civilisation, . fergusson, adam, on the six nations, . festivals, commemorative, of the deluge, ; in cashmir, ; among various nations, ; the hydrophoria at athens, ; the "o-kee-pa," ; the panathenæa, ; the dionysia, ; in egypt, ; among the mandan indians, ; the "so-sin" customs of dahome, , ; at sanchi, ; the "bull-dance," ; the "big canoe," ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds and calabashes, ; the "first man," , ; among the santals, ; among the japanese, , ; at huaheine, ; among the egyptians, ; among the patagonians, - ; pongol festival of southern india compared with mandan and dahoman ceremonies, - . _see_ deluge. fetish, . feuds and wars, origin of, - . fire, unknown to various ancient nations, , ; knowledge of among savages, - ; polynesian etymology of the word, . "first man," the, in mandan ceremonies, , , . fish-god, the, of berosus, . "fish, history of the," . flag, the white, a symbol of peace, . flags of truce, carver and count chandordy parallelised, . flathead and crow indians, the heads of, . flint, use of, among ancient nations, . fohi the great, ; identified with adam, , . formation of states, , . formosans, burial customs among the, . foundation of law of nations, . foundation of christian doctrine, the, . foundation of roman law, - . four races, the, or kiprat-arbat, . france against austria, consequences of the war of, - . franco-german war, the, its ostensible pretext, ; its abnormal character, ; origin of traced to congress of , . fresquet, de, on declaration of war, , . fuegians, religion among the, , ; the lowest race of savages, . fulfilment of prophecy regarding chanaan, , . gainet, l'abbé, on diluvian tradition, ; on mythology, ; on chaldæan monotheism, ; translation of the "history of the fish," ; on deucalion, ; on mandan traditions, . genesis, the book of, ; relation of traditions to, , , . geological speculations, . "gesta romanorum," tale from the, . gibbon, on the use of letters, ; his "decline and fall," quoted, , . gladstone, w. e., his "juventus mundi," ; on the mythology of homer, ; on tradition, , ; on impersonation of good and evil, ; the key to the homeric system, ; the progress of greek morality, ; the homeric age, . gnostic sect, a curious, . goguet, m., on origin of laws, ; human progress, ; kinship, ; janus, . golden age, the, and noah, ; basis of the theory, ; its commencement, ; under saturn, ; tradition of, ; boulanger on, , ; sir henry maine on, . gorbio, curious ceremony at, . gould, mr baring, xvi.; on "origin and development of religious belief," ; summary of his views, ; his views opposed to tradition, ; partial recognition of the value of revelation, ; on monotheism, ; on the samoyed superstitions, . gourds and calabashes, the, used in dahoman and mandan festivals, . govat, charles e., his description of the pongol festivals, - . governments, rise of, after dispersion, . gradual progress of religion among primitive peoples, , , , . great hare or rabbit, tradition of the, , . greatest happiness principle, the, , . grecian mythology, - . grecian traditions of the deluge, - . greek and latin leagues, . greenwood's, col. g., "rain and rivers," quoted, , . grote, mr, , ; on importance of myths, ; on deucalion, . grotesque belief of the hindoos as to support of the earth, . guanches, religion of the, . guinea, religious festival in, . guinnard, m., his narrative of patagonian ceremonies, - . hales, rev. w., on chronology, , , . ham, identified with hoang-ti, ; prosperity of, ; tradition of his blackness of complexion, ; sir j. g. wilkinson on, ; bacchus identified with, . hamitic races, diffusion of the, ; apostasy of, . hea or hoa, a chaldæan deity, ; the inventor of cuneiform writing, . heathenism, conflicting elements of, . heavens, first and second, chinese tradition of, . helps, mr, on worship of peruvians, ; his traditions of peru compared with classical and oriental traditions, - . hercules or herakles, supposed identity with adam, ; confusion of traditions regarding, , . herodotus quoted, , . hero-worship an early form of idolatry, , ; among the chaldæans a source of deification, , , . hesiod and the iron age, ; on the confusion of tongues, . hetairism, . heterogeneity, . hieroglyphic of the dove, . hindoo laws of war, . hindoos, curious belief as to the world's support, . "historicus" (in _times_) on international law, . "history of the fish," . history of western civilisation, dr newman on, - . hoa or hea, . hoa, account of, by berosus, . hoang-ti, , ; identified with shem or ham, ; with noah, . _home and foreign review_ on belligerent rights at sea, , . homeric age, the, . homer's iliad quoted, . hooker, dr, on the beliefs of the lepchas, ; on the khasias, ; on the conduct of war, . horrors of war, limitations to, . horse, etymology of the word, , . houacouvou, director of evil spirits, patagonian festival in honour of, . huaheine, customs at, . human race, tradition of the, - . human society founded upon a contract, . hunter, mr, on indian traditions, ; on primitive life in india, , ; on aryan colour, ; on santal customs, , . husenbeth, very rev. dr, xv. huxley's definition of positivism, . hydrophoria, the, at athens, . hyksos or shepherds, dynasty of, . identification of noah with saturn, . identity of christianity and catholicism, . il or ra, the chaldæan deity, ; account of, by rawlinson, . iliad, the, quoted, . _illustrated london news_ on japanese religious festivals, ; on ceremony at gorbio, . impersonation of good and evil, mr gladstone on, . indian ceremonials, washington irving on, . indian chronology, . indian mode of declaration of war, , . indian tribes, close resemblance of one to another, . indian wars, their causes, , . indians, red, tradition regarding creation of man, ; of the earth, by michabo, , ; ordeals and tortures, . indians, traditions among mozca, . indo-germanic races identified with descendants of japheth, . influence of stoics on roman law, . inheritance through females, . interfusion of ancestral and solar worship, . international law, the _tablet_ on, ; bentham on, , , ; its origin and growth, ; an unwritten law, ; de tocqueville on, ; _pall mall gazette_ on, , ; cicero on, ; an "organised constraint," ; analogy with law of honour, ; original idea at its basis, ; relation to utilitarianism, , ; the _jus feciale_, ; "historicus" on, . international society, the, . invention of writing, . inventiveness of savage races, sir j. lubbock on, . ionian federation, the, . iris and eros, . iron age, the, . iroquois, traditions regarding creation of man, . irving, washington, on indian ceremonials, . jacob, . james, w., xxiii. janus, ; derivation of january, ; a double-headed god, , ; identified with noah, . japan, commemorative festival of the deluge in, , . japanese legend of the bull and the egg, . japetus, identity of with japheth, . japheth, fulfilment of prophecy regarding the race of, ; their prosperity, ; identity with indo-germanic races, . javan, son of japheth, identified with yavana, . javanese and dyaks, contrast in colour, . jenkins, captain, xxvii. jewish monotheism, . jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from egyptians, - . juno and venus, derivation of names of, . _jus feciale_, the, . _jus gentium_, the, , , . kabiri, the, ; bunsen on, . kant's scheme of a universal society, . kenrick, mr, on manu, ; the tradition of deucalion, - . khasias, the, superstitions of the, . king, captain, quoted, ; on sandwich islanders, . kinship through females, , , ; goguet on, . kiprat-arbat, the, or four races, . klaproth, on sanscrit history, ; on the curse of canaan, . kronos, or noah, . lacordaire, l'abbé, ; on tradition, - . laertius', diogenes, scheme of chronology, . lamech, the story of, embodied in various traditions, , . lapland tradition, a, . "last rambles," the, of catlin, quoted, . latin league, the, . law connected with religion, . law, international. _see_ international law. law of honour, the, . law of nations, the, an unwritten law, ; sir henry maine on the, ; common to all nations, ; testimony to in the manx thing, ; ancient codes of, ; the _jus gentium_, ; origin of the phrase, , ; the amphictyonic council, ; primary objects of, ; common source, ; discussed on the basis of usage, ; the _lex legum_ of mankind, ; a modern transgression of, ; the seizure of papal states a flagrant violation of, - ; adaptability of, ; foundation of, . _see_ international law. law of nature, the, ; question whether there is or is not a, ; different solutions of this question, ; sir g. c. lewis on, ; sir h. maine on, , ; what the roman meant by it, ; among the ancients, ; a social compact, , ; tradition of, ; origin of the phrase, , . law, unwritten, ; ozanam on, , . laws, the first, of all nations, . layard, mr, on the man-fish, . league of the ten kings, . legend of the tortoise, , ; of michabo, , ; of the bull and the egg, . legends of oedipus and perseus, . legists of different nationalities, their agreement accounted for, . lenormant, on noe, ; on the fall, . lepchas, the, curious legend of, ; religion among the, , . letters, the use of, a distinction between a civilised and savage people, . levitical worship, the ceremonial borrowed from egypt, , . lewis, sir g. c, on law of nature, , , . light and darkness, as symbols, . limitations to horrors of war, . local tradition, persistency of, . lower egypt, dynasties of, . lowest races of savages, the, . lubbock, sir john, on primitive marriage, ; on the antiquity of man, ; on _water_-worship, ; on tradition, ; his theory opposed to that of de maistre, ; division of pre-historic archæology, , ; untrustworthiness of tradition for evidence of history, ; on religion among savage races, , , ; his suppositions regarding inventiveness of savage races, - ; views supported by duke of argyll, ; description of a "whale ashore" in australia, ; on the knowledge of fire, - . lucas, mr edward, xv. lucretius' "de rerum natura" quoted, . lyell, sir c., xiii.; on human progress, , . macaulay, lord, on benthamism, , ; the dynasty of the popes, , . macdonell, col. george, xii.; memoir of, xix.; parentage, xx.; an admirer of the stuarts, xxi.; results of a letter to the war secretary, xxii.; raises a regiment of macdonells, xxiii.; service in canada, xxiv.; the taking of ogdensburg, xxv.-xxix. m'lennan, mr, on primitive marriage, ; on marriage customs, , . macrobius, on janus bifrons, . maine, sir henry, xv.; on the law of nature, , ; on the law of nations, ; the unit of ancient society, ; notions of primitive antiquity, ; on ancient codes, ; the _jus gentium_, ; origin of name of law of nations, of nature, &c., , ; the foundation of roman law, , ; his distinction between _jus gentium_ and _jus feciale_, . maistre, count joseph de, his theory regarding the early races of man, ; his view of tradition, - ; on the pontifical power, . malays, traditions among the, . malthus, mr, theories regarding over-population, . "man," max müller on derivation of the word, ; its etymology, , . man and the monkey, traditions connecting the, . man-bull, the, traditions of, . manco-capac, ; the lawgiver of peru, ; identity of with quetzalcohuatl, . mandan indians, traditions among the, , ; tradition of the deluge, ; commemorative festivals among, , - ; the evil spirit of, ; source and origin of, - ; mode of burial of, ; art of fortifying their towns, . manetho, ; system of chronology of, , . man-fish, mr layard on the, . manning, dr. _see_ westminster. manning, w. oke, , . man's progress, from a savage to a civilised state, ; exceptional cases of the arab and iroquois, ; lyell's views of, ; lubbock's views, , ; bastian's views, . manx thing, the, . maritime alps, local ceremony in the, . marriage, primitive, , ; customs, ; communal, , . maupertuis', m., account of a lapland tradition, . meaco, ceremony in the temple of, at japan, . meaning of the word adam, . melia, very rev. dr p., xv. memoir of colonel macdonell, xix-xxix. memphis, . menes, the first king of egypt, ; early legend regarding, ; the first who put laws in writing, . menu, ordinances of, , . metallic weapons of ancient races, , . metallurgy of the ancients, mr vaux on the, . mexico, the states of, . mexicans, traditions among the, regarding creation of man, ; of the earth, . michabo, the legend of, among the american indians, , . mill, mr j. s., quoted, ; on the status of women, . mistletoe, the legend of the, , . mivart, mr st george, xv. modes of settlement into communities, . monkey and man, traditions connecting the, . monogamy, . monotheism, jewish, ; semitic, ; chaldæan, . mosaic law, origin of, . montagu, lord robert, m.p., xvi. montalembert, de la, , ; on results of congress of paris, in , . montesquieu, , . montfauçon on bacchus, ; the declaration of war, . mormons, the, . mosaic authorship of pentateuch, evidence of, . mozca indians, the, ; tradition of bochica among, . müller, mr max, on aryan dialects, ; on comparative philology, ; on derivation of the word _man_, , ; nature-worship, ; mythology, , - ; on legend of deucalion, ; "comparative philology" quoted, . mundane egg, the, , . myrmidon, . mysterious origin of aboriginal races, . mythological tradition among the eastern islanders, . mythology, ; source and origin of, - ; solar, ; rev. g. w. cox on, ; max müller on, - ; complications and confusion in, - ; assyrian, _see_ assyrian mythology. myths connecting man with the monkey, . myths, their importance, . natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, . nations, law of. _see_ international law, law of nations. natural right, . nature, law of. _see_ law of nature. nature-worship, , , . nazarians, the, a curious gnostic sect, . nebo, a chaldæan deity, ; resemblance of, to shem, . necessities of the pastoral life, . negro, the, persistency of colour in, ; subserviency of, . _ner_, _soss_, and _sar_, chaldæan periods of time, . nergal identified with mars, . newman, dr, , ; on history of western civilisation, - . new zealanders, curious tradition among, ; their degeneration and retrogression, , . nicolas, mon. a., . niebühr, quoted, . nillson, professor, on the stone age, , ; quoted, . nimrod, a powerful chieftain, ; in the chaldæan mythology, ; identity with belus, ; his apotheosis confounded with enoch's disappearance, . nin or ninip, the true fish-god, ; identification with noah, ; emblem of, in assyria, ; note of rawlinson on, . noah (or noe), identified with shin-nong, , ; with oannes, ; confusion of traditions regarding, ; traditions of, among the chaldæans, ; philology of the name, ; warlike epithets applied to, ; correspondence of nin to, ; nebo a counterpart of, ; identifications of (with xisuthrus) , (with saturn) - , (with bacchus) , (with janus) , , (with ogyges and deucalion) ; the depositary of tradition and channel of law, ; summary of evidence regarding traditional identifications, - ; and the golden age, ; proofs of identity with saturn, ; associations of dove and rainbow with, , . _see_ also deluge, festivals, commemorative. nomadic life, . normandy, the marquis of, . notions of primitive antiquity, . "num," the deity of samoides, . oannes, the mysterious fish, ; the god of science and knowledge, . oceanus, saturn identified as, . oedipus, legend of, ; identified with lamech, ; corruption of the legend in the "gesta romanorum," . "offices," the, of cicero quoted, . ogdensburg, the taking of, xxvii. ogier, m. pegot, on the worship of the guanches, . ogilby's "japan," quoted, , . ogyges and deucalion, traditional connection of, with deluge, . "o-kee-pa," the, a religious ceremony of mandans, , . old chronicle of egypt, the, ; analysis of, . opischeschaht indians, ceremonies among the, . "oracula sybillina," the, quoted, , , , . oral transmission of tradition, , ; h. n. coleridge on, . _orbis terrarum_, the, , ; nucleus of, . ordeals among the indians, . ordinances of menu, , . oriental religions, cardinal wiseman on the, . "origin and development of religious belief," mr baring gould on, - . origin and growth of international law, . "origin of laws," goguet's, quoted, . origin of mosaic law, . orpheus and euridike, . "orvar odd's saga," , . osiris, the judge of the soul, , . over-population, malthus' views regarding, . ox temple of meaco, ceremony in the, . ozanam, on laws, , . pachacamac, the peruvian deity, , , . pagan view of the social compact, . _pall mall gazette_, the, on the darwinian theory of conscience, , ; on laws, , ; on utilitarianism, , ; on european radicalism, ; on the custom of the manx thing, . palmer, mr william, on egyptian chronology, - , ; on osiris, . panathenæa, the, . pantheon, the, of the egyptians, ; of the chaldæans, . papacy, the, head of a general european league, , . papal states, seizure of the, - . paralleled traditions, - ; customs, ; festivals, - , - . parlementaires, . pastoral life, necessities of, . pastoret's history, quoted, on amphictyonic council, , , . patagonians, religious festivals among the, - . peace and war, symbols of, - . peacock, the, symbol of the rainbow, - . pelasgians, the, . pelasgus, . pentateuch, the rev. w. smith's work on, quoted, , , . pentheus, the fate of, . peopling of american continent, how accomplished, - . persistency of colour in african races and others, . perseus, legend of, . persians, ancient tradition of the, . peru, the deity of, . peruvians, worship of the, ; garcilasso de la vega on, . pheasant, the, relation of, to the mandans, . philology, comparative, . philosophy alone is not religion, . phoenician tradition of deluge, ; cosmogonies, , . phoroneus, the father of mankind, , . phrygian legend of the deluge, . pinkerton's account of religion of the samoides, . plato, tradition of condition of families recorded by, , ; his atlantis, an embodiment of tradition, . plough, etymology of the word, , . plumtre's Æschylus, . plutarch's "numa," quoted, . polyandry, regulated and rude, , . polygamy, . "polynesian researches," quoted, . polytheism and monotheism, - . pongol festival of southern india, - . pontifical power, the, . poole, mr, . pope, the, centre of a european league, . pope's odyssey quoted, . poseidon, . positivism, huxley's definition of, . posterity of ham, the, , . precedence of women in dahome, . pottery, the art of, an evidence of progress, , . pre-historic archæology divided into four epochs, , . prayer and punishment, expressed by same word by latins, . prescott's "history of mexico" quoted, , . prevost, sir g., xxv., xxvi. primary objects of law of nations, . primitive condition of mankind, traditions regarding, from sanchoniathon, , . primitive life, ; the family, ; society and government, ; necessities of pastoral, ; origin of feuds and wars, - ; tendency to dispersion, ; gradual consolidation, , ; mr j. s. mill on, ; progress from a savage to a civilised state, ; the arab and iroquois exceptional instances, ; distinctive avocations of hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, ; in india, mr hunter on, , ; exogamous tribes, ; polyandrous families, ; marriage, - ; views of blackstone on, . primitive marriage, mr m'lennan's theory of, ; sir john lubbock on, . primitive races, . prophecy of st malachy, . progress of man to civilisation, , . prometheus, supposed identity with adam, ; confusion of traditions regarding, , . promiscuity, , . pu-an-ku, the primeval man, . public opinion, , . purification and punishment, association of, . pythagoras, . quapaws, tradition of the, . quetzalcohuatl, identity of with manco capac, . quincey, de, ; on kant's scheme of a universal society, . rabbit, the great, tradition of, , . races, primitive, . radicalism, european, . radien, the deity of scandinavian mythology, . "rain and rivers," the, of col. g. greenwood, quoted, , . rainbow, the symbol of peace, ; tradition of the, - . ra or il, the chaldæan deity, ; account of, by rawlinson, . ravana, . rawlinson, professor, xvi., , ; on babylonian chronology, , ; on good and evil personifications, ; identification of nergal with mars, ; on deities of chaldæan pantheon, , , , ; on nin or ninip, ; on noah, ; corroboration of assyrian history, ; the use of metals, . reduplication and confusion of deities, . reduplications--of yao and hoang-ti, ; of enoch, ; of bacchus, , . relics of scriptural tradition in greece, . religion and philosophy, divergence between, . religion of the samoides, ; among savage races, ; the tonpinambas of brazil, ; the feegees, ; among indians, , ; in guinea, ; among the fuegians, , ; among peruvians, , ; among lepchas and limboos, ; among the khasias, ; among andamans, ; among tahitians, , ; among sandwich islanders, ; in vancouver's island, . religion, gradual progress of, among primitive peoples, , , , . "religion the representation of a philosophic idea," . religious formalities on declaration of war, . restriction of the comity of nations, . revelation, primitive, , . rites, levitical, borrowed from the egyptians, , . river, etymology of the word, . rock, the very rev. dr, . roman church, the _spectator_ on, . roman law, - ; influence of stoics on, . roman ideas of the cosmogony, . romans and latins, political union of the, . rude and regulated polyandry, , . ryley, mr e., on belligerent rights, , . sabines, the, . sacrifices in the temple of neptune, . sacrificial weapons, . st julian, scene at, . st malachy, ancient prophecy of, . saluberry, general de, xxvii. samoans, the, . samoides, customs of the, ; their religion, , . samoyed traditions of creation, , . sanchi, commemorative festival of deluge at, . sanchoniathon, traditions from, ; relation of, to genesis, , , ; on diluvian tradition, . sandwich islanders, religion among the, . sanscrit literature, ; etymology of the word _plough_, . sanscrit story of the deluge, . santals, the, ; struggle with the aryans for the mastery, ; traditions of, ; customs of, . satirists, use of blackness of complexion by, . _saturday review_, the, on mr gladstone's "juventus mundi," ; on indian traditions, . saturnalia, the, . saturn, identified as nin, ; traditional connection of, with deluge, - ; reference to as oceanus, ; the inventor of agriculture, . savage belief in the devil, . savage races, vestiges of religion among, , . scandinavian edda, story of baldrin, ; quoted, . scandinavian mythology, the deity of, . sceptical effect of discoveries in science, xvi., xvii. scheme of a universal society, kant's, . schemes, communistic, . schlegel on tradition, ; on chaldæan mythology, ; on indian traditions, ; on diluvian tradition, , . scriptural chronology, historical testimony and evidence in favour of, . scriptural tradition, relics of in greece, . scripture and tradition, . scythians, the, . seebohm, mr f., xv. semitic monotheism, . serpent, the, associated with darkness, . servitude in marriage, the law of, . sethites and cainites, . shakergal, the feast of roses in cashmir, . shem, resemblance of nebo to, . shepherds, dynasty of the, . shin-nong, the divine husbandman, ; identified with noah, , . siethas, the, worshipped by the lapps, . sioux indians, tradition among the, regarding blackness of complexion, ; of creation of man, . six nations, tribes of the, . slavonian account of the creation, . smith, rev. dr, on the pentateuch, , ; origin of mosaic law, . social compact, the, pagan view of, . socialists, english, . society and government, elementary constituent of, . society, human, founded upon a contract, . solar and ancestral worship, interfusion of, . solar mythology, , . "so-sin," the, commemorative festival in dahome, , . _soss_, _sar_, and _ner_, chaldean periods of time, . sothic cycle, the, , - . sothis, book of, . southern india, pongol festival of, - . "spanish conquest of america," the, of helps, quoted, , - . _spectator_, the, on the roman church, . spencer, dr, . state of nature, a, - . states, formation of, - . stephens' "central america" quoted, . stevens, mr e. t., , . stoics, the, their influence on roman law, . stone age, the, untenable hypothesis of, ; professor nillson on, , , ; evidence in favour of, , ; mode of burial in, , . stripes of coloured cloth, emblematic, . "struggle for existence," the, . subjective existence of conscience, . sudra, the, . sun-worship, - , . superstitions of the khasias, . "supplicants," the, of Æschylus quoted, . symbols of peace and war, - . syncellus, , , ; quoted, . _tablet, the_, quoted, ; on arbitration instead of war, ; on position of the papacy, . tahitians, the, tools of, ; religion and civilisation of, , . tamanacs, tradition of the, . tangaloa, the tonga god, . tartar tribes, tradition of deluge among, . tasman's "voyage of discovery" quoted, , . tasmanians, knowledge of fire among the, . taurus, . taylor, rev. richard, on the new zealanders, , . temple of diana, the, . temple of neptune, sacrifices in the, . tendency of tradition to uncertainty and distortion, , ; to reduplication, . ten kings, league of the, . themis and themistes, , , . three stages of progress with man, . _times, the_, quoted, , ; on franco-german war, . tlascala, the republic of, , . tlascopan, the kingdom of, . tocqueville, de, on international law, . tohil, the fire-god, . tonga, tradition in, regarding blackness of complexion, . tongusy, the religion of the, . tonpinambas, the, of brazil, . topan, the idol, . tortoise, curious belief regarding the, , . tortures among the indians, . "totems and totemism," . tradition--among mozca indians, ; of the human race, ; père lacordaire on, - ; common origin of, ; antagonism of religion to, ; tendency of, to uncertainty and distortion, , ; confusion of family tradition, ; persistency of local, ; unity of scripture with, ; duke of argyll on, ; testimony of eusebius to value of, ; oral transmission, the main channel of, ; schlegel on, ; sanchoniathon on, ; concordance and divergence in, ; truth and persistence of, ; of the creation of man, - ; intellectual strictures upon, ; opposition of baring gould's views, ; relics of scriptural, in greece, ; of the man-bull, ; of the deluge among american indians, ; among santals and lepchas, ; the _saturday review_ on indian, ; sir john lubbock on, ; de maistre's view, - ; untrustworthiness and uncertainty of, according to lubbock, ; a lapland, ; capacity of savages for transmission of, - ; evidences of, in religion of savage nations, - ; of the mundane egg, - ; of fire, , ; the discovery of america a proof of, ; of bochica among mozca indians, ; peruvian, compared with classical and oriental, - ; transfusion and intermixture of, , ; of golden age, ; of first and second heavens among chinese, ; of age of primitive equality, ; coincidence of science with, ; the centre of, ; preservation of, under patriarchal governments, ; of a law common to all nations, ; of a law of nature, ; the atlantis of plato an embodiment of, ; of law connecting religion, ; of the rainbow, - ; of the dove, - ; of modes of declaration of war, . _see_ also deluge, festivals, noah. traditions connecting man with the monkey, . traditions, paralleled and compared, of diluvian customs, - , . transition from stone to bronze age, . treaties, the violation of, , . treaty of paris, the, . tressan, l'abbe, on mythology, . tribes of the malay peninsula, ; of the six nations, . triptolemus, the inventor of the plough, . truth and persistence of tradition, . turanian race, their migrations, . turditani, the, . tylor, mr e. b., xiv., ; on myths connecting man with the monkey, ; on animism, . union of romans and latins, the, . universal society, scheme of a, . unwritten laws, . usage the basis of law of nations, . untenable hypothesis of a stone age, . urquhart, mr d., . utilitarianism and international law, , . "utility," bentham's peculiar crotchet, ; the basis of his juridical system, . vaivaswata, . valdegamas, marquis de, . vancouver's island, scene on, . vaux, mr, on metallurgy of the ancients, . vega, garcilasso de la, on peruvian religion, . venus, ; myths of, , . vestiges of religion among savage races, , . vigne, mr g. g., , . violation of treaties, the, , . virgil, lines of, on saturn, ; his Æneid quoted, ; the eclogues, . virtue and vice personified as white and black in the zendavesta, . voltaire, the intellect of, . voltairean prejudices against primitive records, . vul, the son of ana, . wallace, mr, ; on man, . wallis, captain, , . wallis, mr j. e., . war and peace, symbols of, - . war, the declaration of, . _see_ declaration of war. warburton, e., on oral transmission of past events among the indians, . waring, mr j. b., . warlike epithets applied to noah, . water, etymology of the word, . weapons of metal among ancient races, , . weld, rev. a., xiv. weld, f. a., governor of western australia, . welsh ballad quoted, . westminster, archbishop of, xv. "whale ashore," a, contrasted descriptions of, by catlin and sir john lubbock, , . whately, archbishop, . white and black personifications of vice and virtue in the zendavesta, . white flag, the, a symbol of peace, . wilkinson, sir j. g., on ham, ; his "ancient egyptians" quoted, . wilson's "archæologia of scotland" quoted, , . wiseman, cardinal, ; on the distribution of man, ; the unity of scripture with tradition, ; the oriental religions, ; conformity of grammatical forms, ; jewish rites and ceremonies, ; the growth of nations, . wordsworth's "excursion" quoted, . women, their status, ; precedence of, in dahome, . worship, mode of, among the peruvians, . worship of ancestors, , . writing, its invention, ; cuneiform, ; greece indebted to cadmus for, . xisuthrus, attempted identification of with noah, . yao or yu, ; erection of monument by, commemorative of the deluge, . yavana identified with javan, son of japheth, . yokohama, religious festivals at, . zendavesta, the, . zeus, - . printed by ballantyne and company edinburgh and london burns, oates & co.'s list. =narratives of remarkable conversions=; containing mrs. seton, hermann cohen, david richard, alphonse ratisbonne, comte laferronays, &c. cloth, _s._ _d._ =tales of the french revolution.= fcp., cloth, _s._ this interesting volume contains eight historical tales, illustrating the faith and heroism of clergy and laity in those troubled times. =christian schools and scholars.= by the author of the "three chancellors," "knights of st. john," &c. two vols. vo, _s._; cash, _s._ this important and interesting work should be in every library. =life of st. ignatius.= by father bartoli, s.j. vols. _s._ =life of blessed charles spinola=, s.j. by father brockaert, s.j. _s._ =the path which led a protestant= lawyer to the catholic church. by p. h. burnett. vo. _s._ _d._ =balmez' fundamental philosophy.= by brownson. vols. _s._ =irish homes and irish hearts.= by fanny taylor, author of "eastern hospitals," "tyborne," &c. handsome cloth, _s._ works by fathers of the society of jesus. =reply to dr. pusey's "eirenicon."= by rev. father harper. vo, _s._ =vita vitæ nostri, meditantibus= proposita. by the rev. h. j. coleridge. cloth, _s._ _d._; calf, _s._ _d._ =life of blessed margaret mary= alacoque. by rev. g. tickell. _s._ _d._ =sermons,= part i. by fathers coleridge and hathaway. _s._--part ii. by fathers gallwey and parkinson. _s._--part iii. by fathers parkinson, coleridge, and harper. _s._ ditto, the three parts in one. cloth, _s._ =union with rome.= by father christie. _s._ =the church of st. patrick.= by father waterworth. _s._ _d._ =the papacy and schism.= by father bottalla. _s._ _d._ =infallibility of the pope.= by the same. _s._ _d._ =reply to renouf on pope honorius.= by the same. _s._ _d._ =the life and letters of st.= francis xavier. the narrative and arrangement by the rev. h. j. coleridge. 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calf, _s._ supplement to former editions, _d._--_also, uniform_, =sarra on indulgences=, _s._ =memorials of those who suffered= for the faith in ireland in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. collected from authentic and original documents by myles o'reilly, b.a., ll.d. vo, cloth, _s._ _d._ "a very valuable compendium of the martyrology of ireland during the times of active protestant persecution. the language of many of these original records is inexpressibly touching."--_dublin review._ "very interesting memories."--_month._ =the doctrine of the spiritual= life. by father lallemant, s.j. new edition, _s._ =a harmony of the gospels.= by the rev. father law, of the oratory. _s._ =little book of the love of god.= by count stolberg. with life of the author. cloth, _s._ "an admirable little treatise, perfectly adapted to our language and modes of thought."--bishop of birmingham. =heroines of charity.= containing popular lives of mme. de miramion. mme. de pollalion. mdlle. de lamoignon. louise de marillac. duchess de aiguillon. the sisters of vincennes. jeanne biscot. anne de melun. the little sisters of the poor. cloth neat, _s._ _d._ = & portman street, & paternoster row.= transcriber's note footnotes in the original were numbered consecutively for each chapter. they have been renumbered to be unique to the text. references to notes below follow the newly numbered sequence. for those issues which occur in footnotes, the page number refers to the page on which the note begins. the punctuation of many quoted passages is haphazard, with quotation marks incorrectly or incompletely indicating the nesting thereof. for example, footnote on p. consists in part of a quotation ending with "...the last work of the creator." here, the punctuation of nested quotations is incorrect. it is not clear where the boundary of the quote should be. unless the scope is very clear, no attempt has been made to correct these lapses, and the text stands as printed. we note the following paragraphs which remain as printed: p. n. "the chinese cosmogony... p. n. "the mandans believed... p. n. in the _second_ ... fixed it at midnight." p. ra is a god with few peculiar... p. rawlinson says of this god... p. n. _vide_ his other epithets... p. bachus is by some called... p. "he is said to have transmitted to mankind... p. "the chief actors in these strange scenes... p. it will be remembered... the opening scene in the mandan customs... p. we shall not be surprised to learn... p. at whydat ... white visitors. p. n. "the sandwich islands... p. at pp. - there is perhaps... p. mr max müller adds... p. "amongst the mexicans ... in the old world." p. n. the very rev. dr rock... st paul says... p. n. _vide_ also in carver's... this text is dense with citations, some of which seem incorrect. for example, the reference to genesis i. . on p. is attributed to "gen. x.". no attempt was made to correct any attributions. in note on p. , the quoted passage from pastoret's (ix, ) was corrupted, and is corrected: "on s'assembloit dans [au lien/un lieu] sacré du mont mycale". on p. , the name "Æschylus" appears, unaccountably as "oeschylos", but is retained. this text is generally followed as printed. corrections are made only where there are obvious printer's errors or where there are numerous examples of a correct spelling. where the issue appears in quoted passages, no corrections were made. this includes foreign language citations (french, latin and greek), where spelling and accents, in particular, may not appear as expected. in the index and advertisements, incidental inconsistencies of punctuation are corrected without further notice. the following table describes textual issues encountered during the preparation of this text, and the resolution of each. p. xxviii occ[c]upy removed. p. ethnic division.["] added. p. n. "vues des cordillères["], added. p. n. (sanskrit, pota = boat[)] added. p. n. to the waters of the great lake, &c.["] added. p. n. the extent of the countries they _sic._ opening inhabit.["] quote missing. p. according to different [different] degrees removed. p. a 'dark['] spirit added. p. ( [+/×] ) = corrected. p. generations [ ], years _sic._ missing. p. acc[c]ounted removed. p '_in the mountain the lord will see_.[']" added. p. n. co[s]mopolitanism added. p. n. "l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages["] added. p. n. m[u/ü]ller corrected. p. are still living under the ground.["] added. p. [ ']arrow-head,' added. p. 'the chief of the spirits,['] added. p. n. "anacalypsis,['/"] corrected. p. which owes it[s] origin added. p. mi[s]chievous added. p. with two horns.["] added. p. montfau[c/ç]on corrected. p. n. noted also in the "panathenæa.["] added. p. _kan_ (rope) 'gbe (to-day).["] added. p. n. being the most common.["] added. p. which are thus described[?] _sic._ ':'? p. n. hawaiki, [(]sandwich islands). _sic._ ? p. in the branches of the trees["] added. p. n. ["]the indians resemble added. p. ["]gods canon and camis or chamis;" added. p. n. divided into _four acts_["]. added. p. n. ['/"]soirées de st petersbourg" corrected. p. lubb[u/o]ck's corrected. p. n. and "camac" participle of "camani," ["]i create." added. p. to [the] the reader line break repetition. p. n. (["]traditions of the new zealanders") added. p. n. (gen. xiii.)[]] _sic._ ? p. n. (niebühr, ii. ch. vi.[)] added. p. n. ["]the oath taken by added. p. n. ["]_l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usages_ removed. p. n. ne saurait assez reconnaître.["] added. p. n. "_droit romain_,["] i. . added. p. the "caduceatores["] added. p. n. smith ("myth. dict."[)] added. p. romans and [and ]latins line break repetition. p. norma[m/n]by corrected. go[q/g]uet's corrected. nature myths and stories for little children by flora j. cooke chicago. _a. flanagan, publisher._ nature myths and stories for little children by flora j. cooke of the cook county normal school chicago revised edition chicago a. flanagan, publisher. copyright by flora j. cooke. preface. feeling the great need of stories founded upon good literature, which are within the comprehension of little children, i have written the following stories, hoping that they may suggest to primary teachers the great wealth of material within our reach. many teachers, who firmly believe that reading should be something more than mere _word-getting_ while the child's _reading habit_ is forming, are practically helpless without the use of a printing press. we will all agree that myths and fables are usually beautiful truths clothed in fancy, and the dress is almost always simple and transparent. who can study these myths and not feel that nature has a new language for him, and that though the tales may be thousands of years old, they are quite as true as they were in the days of homer. if the trees and the flowers, the clouds and the wind, all tell wonderful stories to the child he has sources of happiness of which no power can deprive him. and when we consider that here, too, is the key which unlocks so much of the best in art and literature, we feel that we cannot rank too highly the importance of the myth in the primary schoolroom. for instance the child has been observing, reading, and writing about the sun, the moon, the direction of the wind, the trees, the flowers, or the forces that are acting around him. he has had the songs, poems, and pictures connected with these lessons to further enhance his thought, interest, and observation. he is now given a beautiful myth. he is not expected to interpret it. it is presented for the same purpose that a good picture is placed before him. he feels its beauty, but does not analyze it. if, through his observation or something in his experience, he _does see a meaning_ in the story he has entered a new world of life and beauty. then comes the question to every thoughtful teacher, "can the repetition of words necessary to the growth of the child's vocabulary be obtained in this way?" this may be accomplished if the teacher in planning her year's work, sees a close relation between the science, literature, and number work, so that the same words are always recurring, and the interest in each line of work is constant and ever increasing. the following stories are suggested in the standard books of mythology and poetry, and have been tested and found to be very helpful in the first and third grades. a full list of myths, history stories and fairy tales for the children in the different grades can be found in emily j. rice's course of study in history and literature, which can be obtained of a. flanagan, no. wabash avenue, chicago. [illustration] contents. animal stories:-- donkey and the salt } fox and the stork } _adapted from Æesop_ grateful foxes _adapted from edwin arnold's poem. permission of chas. scribners' sons._ how the spark of fire was saved _adapted from john vance cheney's poem._ how the chipmunk got the stripes on its back _adapted from edwin arnold's poem._ an indian story of the mole bird stories:-- an indian story of the robin _adapted from whittier's poem, "how the robin came."_ how the robin's breast became red the red-headed woodpecker _adapted from phoebe cary's poem._ cloud stories:-- palace of alkinoös _adapted from the odyssey._ swan maidens flower stories:-- clytie golden-rod and aster insect stories:-- arachne aurora and tithonus king solomon and the ants _adapted from whittier's poem._ king solomon and the bee _adapted from saxe's poem._ mineralogy stories:-- sisyphus the story of the pudding stone sun myths:-- balder persephone _adapted from "story of persephone," told by helen ericson, class of , cook county, (ill.), normal school._ phaethon tree stories:-- daphne fairy story philemon and baucis poplar tree the secret of fire miscellaneous stories:-- hermes iris' bridge prometheus clytie. clytie was a beautiful little water nymph who lived in a cave at the bottom of the sea. the walls of the cave were covered with pearls and shells. the floor was made of sand as white as snow. there were many chairs of amber with soft mossy cushions. on each side of the cave-opening was a great forest of coral. back of the cave were clytie's gardens. here were the sea anemones, starfish and all kinds of seaweed. in the garden grotto were her horses. these were the gentlest goldfish and turtles. the ocean fairies loved clytie and wove her dresses of softest green sea lace. with all these treasures clytie should have been happy, but she was not. she had once heard a mermaid sing of a glorious light which shone on the top of the water. she could think of nothing else, but longed day and night to know more of the wonderful light. no ocean fairy dared take her to it, and she was afraid to go alone. one day she was taking her usual ride in her shell carriage. the water was warm and the turtles went so slowly that clytie soon fell asleep. on and on they went, straight towards the light, until they came to an island. [illustration] as the waves dashed the carriage against the shore clytie awoke. she climbed out of the shell and sat down upon a large rock. she had never seen the trees and flowers. she had never heard the birds chirping or the forest winds sighing. she had never known the perfume of the flowers or seen the dew on the grass. in wonder, she saw a little boy and girl near her and heard them say, "here it comes! here it comes!" as she looked away in the east she saw the glorious light that she had so longed for. in its midst, in a golden chariot, sat a wonderful king. the king smiled and instantly the birds began to sing, the plants unfolded their buds, and even the old sea looked happy. clytie sat on the rock all day long and wished that she might be like the great kind king. she wept when he entered the land of the sunset and she could see him no longer. she went home, but she could scarcely wait until the morning. very early the next day her swiftest goldfish carried her to the rock. after this, she came every day, wishing more and more to be like the great kind king. one evening as she was ready to go home, she found that she could not move her feet. she leaned out over the sea and knew that she had her wish. instead of a water nymph a beautiful sunflower looked back at her from the water. her yellow hair had become golden petals, her green lace dress had turned into leaves and stems, and her little feet had become roots which fastened her to the ground. the good king the next day sent her into many countries, into dry and sandy places, that the people might be made happy by looking at her bright face, so like his own. [illustration] golden-rod and aster. golden hair and blue eyes lived at the foot of a great hill. on the top of this hill in a little hut lived a strange, wise woman. it was said that she could change people into anything she wished. she looked so grim and severe that people were afraid to go near her. one summer day the two little girls at the foot of the hill thought they would like to do something to make everybody happy. [illustration] "i know," said golden hair, "let us go and ask the woman on the hill about it. she is very wise and can surely tell us just what to do." "oh, yes," said blue eyes, and away they started at once. it was a warm day and a long walk to the top of the hill. the little girls stopped many times to rest under the oak trees which shaded their pathway. they could find no flowers, but they made a basket of oak leaves and filled it with berries for the wise woman. they fed the fish in the brook and talked to the squirrels and the birds. they walked on and on in the rocky path. after a while the sun went down. the birds stopped singing. the squirrels went to bed. the trees fell asleep. even the wind was resting. oh, how still and cool it was on the hillside! the moon and stars came out. the frogs and toads awoke. the night music began. the beetles and fireflies flew away to a party. but the tired little children climbed on towards the hilltop. at last they reached it. there at the gate was the strange, old woman, looking even more stern than usual. the little girls were frightened. they clung close together while brave golden hair said, "we know you are wise and we came to see if you would tell us how to make everyone happy." "please let us stay together," said timid blue eyes. as she opened the gate for the children, the wise woman was seen to smile in the moonlight. the two little girls were never seen again at the foot of the hill. the next morning all over the hillside people saw beautiful, waving golden-rod and purple asters growing. it has been said that these two bright flowers, which grow side by side, could tell the secret, if they would, of what became of the two little girls on that moonlight summer night. [illustration] the wise king and the bee. long ago there lived in the east the greatest king in the world. it was believed that no one could ask him a question which he could not answer. wise men came from far and near, but they were never able to puzzle king solomon. he knew all the trees and plants. he understood the beasts, fowls and creeping things almost as well as he did people. the fame of his knowledge spread into all lands. in the south, the great queen of sheba heard of the wonderful wisdom of solomon and said, "i shall test his power for myself." she picked some clover blossoms from the field and bade a great artist make for her, in wax, flowers, buds and leaves exactly like them. she was much pleased when they were finished, for she herself could see no difference in the two bunches. she carried them to the king and said, "choose, oh wise king, which are the real flowers?" at first king solomon was puzzled, but soon he saw a bee buzzing at the window. "ah," said he, "here is one come to help me in my choice. throw open the window for my friend." then the queen of sheba bowed her head and said: "you are indeed a wise king, but i begin to understand your wisdom. i thank you for this lesson." [illustration] king solomon and the ants. one morning the queen of sheba started back to her home in the south. king solomon and all his court went with her to the gates of the city. it was a glorious sight. the king and queen rode upon white horses. the purple and scarlet coverings of their followers glittered with silver and gold. the king looked down and saw an ant hill in the path before them. "see yonder little people," he said, "do you hear what they are saying as they run about so wildly? "they say, 'here comes the king, men call wise, and good and great. 'he will trample us under his cruel feet.'" "they should be proud to die under the feet of such a king," said the queen. "how dare they complain?" "not so, great queen," replied the king. he turned his horse aside and all his followers did the same. when the great company had passed there was the ant hill unharmed in the path. the queen said, "happy indeed, must be your people, wise king. i shall remember the lesson. "he only is noble and great who cares for the helpless and weak." arachne. arachne was a beautiful maiden and the most wonderful weaver that ever lived. her father was famed throughout the land for his great skill in coloring. he dyed arachne's wools in all the colors of the rainbow. people came from miles around to see and admire her work. they all agreed that queen athena must have been her teacher. arachne proudly said that she had never been taught to weave. she said that she would be glad to weave with athena to see which had the greater skill. in vain her father told her that perhaps athena, unseen, guided her hand. arachne would not listen and would thank no one for her gift, believing only in herself. one day as she was boasting of her skill an old woman came to her. she kindly advised her to accept her rare gift humbly. "be thankful that you are so fortunate, arachne," said she. "you may give great happiness to others by your beautiful work. "queen athena longs to help you. "but i warn you. she can do no more for you until you grow unselfish and kind." arachne scorned this advice and said again that nothing would please her so much as to weave with athena. "if i fail," she said, "i will gladly take the punishment, but athena is afraid to weave with me." then the old woman threw aside her cloak and said, "athena is here. "come, foolish girl, you shall try your skill with hers." both went quickly to work and for hours their shuttles flew swiftly in and out. athena, as usual, used the sky for her loom and in it she wove a picture too beautiful to describe. if you wish to know more about it look at the western sky when the sun is setting. arachne's work, though her colors were in harmony and her weaving wonderfully fine, was full of spite and selfishness. when the work was finished arachne lifted her eyes to athena's work. instantly she knew that she had failed. ashamed and miserable she tried to hang herself in her web. athena saw her and said in pity, "no, you shall not die; live and do the work for which you are best fitted. "you shall be the mother of a great race which shall be called spiders. "you and your children shall be among the greatest spinners and weavers on earth." as she spoke, arachne became smaller and smaller until she was scarcely larger than a fly. [illustration] from that day to this arachne and her family have been faithful spinners, but they do their work so quietly and in such dark places, that very few people know what marvelous weavers they are. aurora and tithonus. the beautiful youth, tithonus, loved aurora, the queen of the dawn. he was the first one to greet her each day as she drew back the purple curtains of the east. he made his bed on the green grass in the meadow that he might not miss her coming. aurora grew to expect his welcome and to love the youth dearly. one morning when she came tithonus was not in his usual place. as she looked anxiously around she saw him with pale face and closed eyes lying upon the ground. she darted down to earth and carried his almost lifeless body to zeus. she begged the great king to promise that tithonus should never die. but alas, in her haste, she forgot to ask that he might forever remain young. therefore he grew old and bent, and could no longer walk. in misery, he begged to go back to the cool grass in the meadow where he had been so happy. aurora in pity said, "you shall go, my tithonus. to make you happy is my dearest wish. "you shall be free from all care. "you shall not be a man, lest you be compelled to work for your food in your old age. "you shall be a grasshopper, free to dance in the meadow grass all the long summer days. "i have prepared a dress for you, which shall protect you well." then she gave tithonus the wonderful grasshopper coat of mail which had been unknown on earth until this time. she tinted it a soft green so that he might not be noticed in the grass. tithonus went that day to live in the meadow and there, any summer day, you may find him and his family hopping merrily about in the sunshine. [illustration] how the robin's breast became red. long ago in the far north, where it is very cold, there was only one fire. a hunter and his little son took care of this fire and kept it burning day and night. they knew that if the fire went out the people would freeze and the white bear would have the northland all to himself. one day the hunter became ill and his son had the work to do. for many days and nights he bravely took care of his father and kept the fire burning. the white bear was always hiding near, watching the fire. he longed to put it out, but he did not dare, for he feared the hunter's arrows. when he saw how tired and sleepy the little boy was, he came closer to the fire and laughed to himself. one night the poor boy could endure the fatigue no longer and fell fast asleep. the white bear ran as fast as he could and jumped upon the fire with his wet feet, and rolled upon it. at last, he thought it was all out and went happily away to his cave. a gray robin was flying near and saw what the white bear was doing. she waited until the bear went away. then she flew down and searched with her sharp little eyes until she found a tiny live coal. this she fanned patiently with her wings for a long time. her little breast was scorched red, but she did not stop until a fine red flame blazed up from the ashes. then she flew away to every hut in the northland. wherever she touched the ground a fire began to burn. soon instead of one little fire the whole north country was lighted up. the white bear went further back into his cave in the iceberg and growled terribly. he knew that there was now no hope that he would ever have the northland all to himself. this is the reason that the people in the north country love the robin, and are never tired of telling their children how its breast became red. [illustration] an indian story of the robin. when an indian boy was eleven years old, he was sent into a forest far away from his home. he had to stay there all alone and fast for seven days and nights. the indians thought that at this time a spirit came into the youth which helped him to become a great chief and warrior. the spirit also told the boy what his name should be in the tribe. once there was a fierce indian war chief who had only one son. the little boy was not strong, but his father loved him more than anything else on earth. when this boy was eleven years old, the chief went out into the forest and built a small lodge for him to stay in. in it he placed a mat of reeds which his good squaw had woven with great care. by the side of the mat he laid a bow, some arrows and his own great tomahawk. next he painted pictures upon the trees along the path leading from the wigwam to the lodge. he did this that the little boy might easily find his way home. when everything was ready he sadly sent his son away into the forest. he missed him so much that he went every morning to look at him. each day he asked him if the spirit had not come to him. each day the little boy shook his head without opening his eyes. on the fifth day his son said to him, "father, take me home or i shall die. no spirit will come to me." the old chiefs pride was greater than his pity and he said, "no, my son, you must not be a coward. you shall be as wise as a fox and as strong as a bear. "better that you should die than that boy and squaw should cry 'shame' upon your father's son. "be patient, i will come in two days and bring you food." the sixth day came and the little boy lay upon the mat white and still. on the seventh, when the chief came with the sun's first rays, his son was not in the lodge nor about it. above the door sat a bird with brown coat and red breast, which until this time had been unknown to man. sadly the chief listened to the bird and understood its message. "mourn me not, great chief," it sang. "i was once your son. "i am happy now and free. "i am the friend of man and shall always live near him and be his companion. "i shall bring the tidings of spring. "when the maple buds shoot and the wild flowers come, every child in the land shall know my voice. "i shall teach how much better it is to sing than to slay. "chief, listen, chief, be more gentle; be more loving. chief, teach it, chief, be not fierce, oh, be not cruel; love each other! love each other!" the red-headed woodpecker. there was an old woman who lived on a hill. you never heard of any one smaller or neater than she was. she always wore a black dress and a large white apron with big bows behind. on her head was the queerest little red bonnet that you ever saw. it is a sad thing to tell, but this woman had grown very selfish as the years went by. people said this was because she lived alone and thought of nobody but herself. one morning as she was baking cakes, a tired, hungry man came to her door. "my good woman," said he, "will you give me one of your cakes? i am very hungry. i have no money to pay for it, but whatever you first wish for you shall have." the old woman looked at her cakes and thought that they were too large to give away. she broke off a small bit of dough and put it into the oven to bake. when it was done she thought this one was too nice and brown for a beggar. she baked a smaller one and then a smaller one, but each one was as nice and brown as the first. at last she took a piece of dough only as big as the head of a pin; yet even this, when it was baked, looked as fine and large as the others. so the old woman put all the cakes on the shelf and offered the stranger a dry crust of bread. the poor man only looked at her and before she could wink her eye he was gone. she had done wrong and of course she was unhappy. "oh, i wish i were a bird!" said she, "i would fly to him with the largest cake on the shelf." as she spoke she felt herself growing smaller and smaller until the wind whisked her up the chimney. she was no longer an old woman but a bird as she had wished to be. she still wore her black dress and red bonnet. she still seemed to have the large white apron with the big bows behind. because from that day she pecked her food from the hard wood of a tree, people named this bird the red-headed wood-pecker. the story of the pudding stone. once upon a time a family of giants lived upon the high mountains in the west. one day the mother giant was called away from home. she arose early in the morning and made ready the bread and butter for the little giants to eat while she was gone. when she had finished her work it was not yet time to start upon her journey. she said to herself, "my children are the best children in the world and they shall have a treat. i have many plums left from the christmas feast. i will make them a plum pudding for a surprise. the good woman brought together the plums which it had taken her many days to prepare with the help of all her children. indeed she had emptied several mountain lakes to get water enough to wash them all. she now mixed these wonderful plums into a pudding and put it into an oven to bake. the mixing took so long that she had to hurry, and she quite forgot to say anything about the pudding to the little giants. she had intended to tell them about it just before she left them. it was afternoon when the giant children found the pudding. it was badly burned upon the top by that time. they had already eaten the bread and butter and were not hungry. one little giant said to the others, "let us make balls of the pudding and see who can throw the farthest." you know that giants are very strong, and away went the pudding up into the air. the little giants made little balls and the older giants threw pieces as big as a house. many pieces went over the mountains and fell down into the valley beyond. indeed this wonderful pudding was scattered for miles over the whole land, for the giants did not stop throwing as long as there was any pudding left in the pan. when the sun had shone upon it many days and dried and hardened it, people called it pudding stone. you may find it to-day thrown all over the land, full of the plums which the good woman washed with the waters of many lakes. story of sisyphus. little white cloud was the ocean's daughter. the ocean loved her, and wished always to keep her near him. one day, when her father was asleep, white cloud went out to walk alone. the sun saw her and said, "come, white cloud, i am your king, i will give you a ride upon my bright rays." white cloud had often longed for this very thing, so she went gladly, and soon found herself among the fleecy clouds in the sky. when the ocean awoke he called his little daughter. she did not answer. he called again and again, louder and still louder, until the people said, "listen, it is thundering!" but the ocean only heard the echo of his own voice from the shore. he rushed high up on the beach and moaned aloud. he ran into all the caves but white cloud could not be found. every one had loved white cloud, so by this time all the water was white with the crests of the weeping sea nymphs. a great giant was sitting upon the shore near the sea. his name was sisyphus. he felt sorry for the ocean and said, "listen, friend ocean, i often watch you carrying the great ships and wish that i, too, had a great work to do. "you see how dry it is on this side of the mountain. few people come this way. you are not even now as lonely as i, yet i want to help you. promise me that you will put a spring upon this mountain side, where all the tired and thirsty people may drink, and i'll tell you where white cloud is." [illustration] the ocean said, "i cannot put a spring upon the mountain, but if you will follow my son, river, he will take you to a spring where he was born." the giant told the ocean how the sun ran away with white cloud. the sun heard him and was angry. he placed sisyphus in the sea saying, "you are far too strong to sit idly here upon the shore. you say you want a great work to do; you shall have it. you shall forever use your strength to push these stones upon the shore, and they shall forever roll back upon you." the giant began his work at once, and has worked faithfully every day since that time. many people do not yet know what his work is. do you? do you know what sisyphus is making? [illustration] the palace of alkinoÖs. on a high plain covered with flowers once lived good king alkinoös and his gentle people, the phaiakians. they were great sailors and went about in silver ships without rudders or sails. these wonderful ships went slowly or very fast just as the sailors wished. for many years the phaiakians were peaceful and happy. though they were as brave as they were gentle, they hated war. far below the phaiakians, in a valley, lived a people larger, darker, fiercer than themselves. these dark people cared for nothing so much as war and conquest. when they saw the silver ships with the golden prows, they wanted them for their own. they armed themselves and made ready for a great battle. to be sure of victory, they borrowed the thunder and lightning from zeus. the day came and all was ready for the dark people to advance. they reached the land of the phaiakians in the morning and king alkinoös came forward to meet them. they soon saw that he alone was more powerful than their entire army. he was dressed in armor so bright that it dazzled their eyes to look at it. it was covered with millions of golden arrows tipped with diamonds. the king showed the frightened people how he could shoot the arrows in all directions at the same time. the dark people trembled with fear, but king alkinoös smiled at them, and then he and his people sailed slowly away toward the west. on and on they went, until they came to a great silver sea. here they stopped and built a palace for their king. this palace was made of silver and gold and precious stones. its towers were rose color and shone with a wonderful light. its steps were of pure gold. on each side of the silver gates were huge dogs which guarded the palace. there were boys in the halls dressed in white, holding burning torches. there were girls weaving wonderful curtains and painting pictures upon the walls. there were mountains and fountains, and rivers and lakes. there were singing birds and flower gardens, and little children everywhere. even to this day, the great king often sits in his palace in the west when his day's work is done. he loves to see the people glide about upon the silver sea, in their ships without rudders or sails. the fierce, dark people still go to war. they seldom let the gentle king see them fighting. yet often after a brave battle, alkinoös comes out of his palace and smiles brightly upon them. the dark people blush and seem to smile at the king. you must find out how much good these dark people do and how the king of the phaiakians helps them in their work, if you wish to understand their friendship. [illustration] phaethon. phaethon was the son of helios, who drove the chariot of the sun. he lived with his mother, the gentle clymene, in a beautiful valley in the east. one day when phaethon was telling his companions about his father, the sky king, they laughed and said, "how do you know that helios is your father? you have never seen him. if, as you say, he cannot safely come nearer to the earth, why do you not sometimes go to his land." phaethon answered, "my father's throne is far away from this valley. my mother has promised that when i am stronger, i shall go to my father's palace. i often watch his golden chariot roll by in its path and think perhaps some day i shall drive the glorious horses of the sun. "i shall go now to my mother, and ask her how much longer i must wait." when phaethon told his mother what his companions had said she answered, "go, my child, ask great helios if you are his son. if you are worthy to be the son of helios you will be given strength and courage for the journey." phaethon gladly and bravely climbed the unused path which led to the palace of the sun. at last he came in sight of the throne. he had never seen anything so beautiful. on one side were standing the days, months and the old years. on the other side were the seasons; spring, covered with flowers; summer, with her baskets of fruit and grain; autumn, in a many-colored dress; and young winter, with a crown of icicles. as phaethon came nearer to the throne, the light was greater than his eyes could bear. its wonderful colors dazzled him. helios saw the brave youth and knew that it was phaethon, his son. he took his glittering crown from his head and went forward to meet him. phaethon cried, "great helios, if you are my father give me and others proof that it is so." helios took him in his arms and kissed him. "you are indeed my son," he said. "i will put an end to your doubts. ask any gift you will, and it shall be yours." phaethon had always had one wish in his heart and said, "o, my father, let me drive the wonderful golden chariot of the sun for just one day." helios shook his head sadly and said, "that is the one thing which you must not ask to do. "you are my son, and i love you. for your own sake, i cannot let you do this. you have neither the strength nor the wisdom for the great work. "the first part of the way is very steep and rugged. in the middle part, even i dare not look below at the far stretching earth, and the last part is full of terrible dangers." phaethon would not listen, but threw his arms around his father's neck and begged to go. helios said at last, "if you persist, foolish boy, you shall have your wish, for i cannot break my promise. i beg of you choose more wisely. ask the most precious thing on earth or in the sky, and you shall have it." already dawn had drawn back the purple curtains of the morning and the hours were harnessing the horses to the chariot. the stars and moon were retiring for the day. the chariot glittered with jewels which sent the light in all directions. phaethon looked upon it with delight and longed impatiently for the great joy of driving it. helios said, "o, my dear son, go not too high or you will scorch the dwelling of heaven, nor too low, lest you set the world on fire. "keep the middle path; that is best, and do not use the whip; rather, hold the horses in." phaethon was too happy to hear what his father was saying. he leapt into the golden chariot and stood erect as the fiery horses sprang forth from the eastern gates of day. they soon missed the strong steady hand of their master. up, up they went, far into the sky, above the stars, and then plunged downward toward the earth. the clouds smoked, the mountain tops caught fire, many rivers dried up and whole countries became deserts. great cities were burning, and even poseidon cried out in terror from the sea. then the people on earth learned with what great wisdom the path of the sun was planned. helios saw that the whole world would soon be on fire, and cried to father zeus to save the earth from the flames. zeus searched all the heavens for clouds and hurled his thunderbolts from the sky. phaethon fell from the chariot, down, down into a clear river. the naiads cooled his burning brow, and gently sang him to sleep. his sisters came to the banks of the river and wept. that they might be always near phaethon, zeus, in pity changed them into poplar trees, and their tears became clear amber as they fell into the water. at last the tired horses became quiet, and the great car rolled slowly back into its old path. but the deserts and barren mountain tops still tell the story of the day phaethon tried to drive the chariot of the sun. the grateful foxes. it was springtime in japan, and the blossoms hung thick on the cherry trees. butterflies and dragon flies fluttered over the golden colza flowers in the fields. the rice birds chirped merrily. everything seemed to say, "how good it is to live in days like these." a beautiful princess, o haru san, sat on the bank of a stream gaily pulling the lilies. all the maidens of her court were with her. along the river bank came a troop of noisy, laughing boys, carrying a young cub fox. they were trying to decide who should have its skin and who its liver. at a safe distance from them, in a bamboo thicket, father fox and mother fox sat looking sadly after their little cub. the princess' heart was filled with pity, and she said: "boys, pray loose the little fox. see his parents weeping in the rocks." the boys shook their heads. "we shall sell the fox's skin," they said. "the liver, too, if well powdered, will be used to cure fevers in the fall." "listen," cried o haru san, "it is springtime, and everything rejoices. how can you kill such a small soft beast? "see, here is twice your price; take it all," and she drew copper money and silver money from her girdle. the boys placed the little frightened animal in her lap and ran away, pleased to be so rich. the cub felt the touch of her soft hand, and trembled no longer. she loosened carefully the knot and noose and string. she stroked the red fur smooth again, and bound up the little bleeding leg. she offered it rice and fish to eat, but the black eyes plainly said, "this is very nice, but i hear my parents grieving near yonder beanstraw stack. i long to go and comfort them." she set the little fox gently on the ground, and, forgetting its wounded leg, it leaped through the bushes at one happy bound. the two old foxes gravely looked it over neck and breast. they licked it from its bushy tail to its smooth, brown crown. then, sitting up on their haunches, they gave two sharp barks of gratitude. that was their way of saying, "we send you thanks, sweet maid." as she walked home by the river side, all the world seemed more beautiful to o haru san. * * * * * the summer time came and the blossoms upon the cherry trees became rich, ripe fruit. but there was no joy in the emperor's house. his daughter, the gentle o haru san, was ill. she grew paler and weaker each day. physicians came from far and near, and shook their wise heads gravely. when the emperor's magician saw her, he said, "no one can heal such sickness. a charm falls upon her every night which steals away her strength. he alone can break the spell, who, with sleepless eyes, can watch beside her bedside until sunrise." gray haired nurses sat by her until morning, but a deep sleep fell upon them at midnight. next fourscore maidens of the court, who loved her well, kept bright lights burning all the night, yet they, too, fell asleep. five counselors of state watched with her father at the bedside. though they propped their eyes open with their fingers, yet in the middle of the night slumber overcame them. all believed that the gentle maid must die. the emperor was in despair, but ito, a brave soldier, said, "i shall not sleep; let me one night guard the sweet o haru san." her father led him to the chamber. just at midnight ito felt his eyes grow heavy. he rose and held his sword above his head. "rather will i die than sleep," he said. then came a great struggle. often his head nodded, but by his love and strength ito conquered sleep. suddenly he heard a voice which said, "grate foxes' livers in the princess' rice broth and all her ills will disappear." the next morning the hunters searched far and near for foxes. they knew that to the emperor a fox was worth its weight in gold. all day and night they were in the woods without food or rest. at last they came sadly back to their homes. they brought no fox. "all the foxes know," they said, "and have hidden themselves away." the emperor in grief and anger cried, "must my child perish? shall a princess die for the lack of one poor fox? "she was never willing that one should be slain and this is her reward." ito said, "i will get the fox." he started out with knife and net to seek it. at the entrance of the town he met a woman dressed in strange garments. very small and stooped she seemed to ito. she carried a jar in her arms. she bowed low before ito, and said, "what you seek is in the jar. i have brought it from afar." "here is gold," said ito. "what is the price?" the woman pulled the blue hood farther over her face and said, "another time will do, i can wait. hasten now to the princess." gladly ito obeyed. they made the broth in a bowl of beaten gold and fed it to o haru san. immediately she was well and all was joy in the emperor's house. the emperor said, "ito, is she, who brought this blessing, paid?" ito answered, "yonder she waits at the entrance of the town." the emperor himself in his great joy went with ito to meet her. but they found only a dog-fox dead. around his neck they read this message, "this is my husband here. "for his child he gives his liver to the princess, dear. i, his very lowly wife, have brought it." [illustration] persephone. demeter had the care of all the plants, fruits and grains in the world. she taught the people how to plow the fields and plant the seeds. she helped them gather in their harvests. they loved the kind earth-mother and gladly obeyed her. they also loved her daughter, the beautiful persephone. persephone wandered all day in the meadows among the flowers. wherever she went the birds, singing merrily, flocked after her. the people said, "where persephone is, there is the warm sunshine. "flowers bloom when she smiles. "listen to her voice; it is like a bird's song." demeter wished always to have her child near her. one day persephone went alone into a meadow near the sea. she had made a wreath for her hair, and gathered all the flowers that her apron could hold. far away across the meadow she saw a white flower gleaming. she ran to it and found that it was a narcissus, but far more beautiful than any she had ever seen. on a single stem were a hundred blossoms. she tried to pick it, but the stem would not break. with all her strength she grasped it, and slowly it came up by the roots. it left a great opening in the earth which grew larger and larger. persephone heard a rumbling like thunder under her feet. then she saw four black horses coming toward her from the opening. behind them was a chariot made of gold and precious stones. in it sat a dark, stern man. it was hades. he had come up from his land of darkness, and was shading his eyes with his hands. he saw persephone, beautiful with flowers, and instantly caught her in his arms and placed her in the chariot beside him. the flowers fell from her apron. "oh! my pretty flowers," she cried, "i have lost them all." then she saw the stern face of hades. frightened, she stretched out her hands to kind apollo who was driving his chariot overhead. she called to her mother for help. hades drove straight toward his dark underground home. the horses seemed to fly. as they left the light, hades tried to comfort persephone. he told her of the wonders of his kingdom. he had gold and silver and all kinds of precious stones. persephone saw gems glittering on every side as they went along, but she did not care for them. hades told her how lonely he was, and that he wished her to be his queen and share all his riches. persephone did not want to be a queen. she longed only for her mother and the bright sunshine. soon they came to the land of hades. it seemed very dark and dismal to persephone, and very cold, too. a feast was ready for her, but she would not eat. she knew that any one who ate in hades' home could never return to earth again. she was very unhappy, though hades tried in many ways to please her. everything on the earth was unhappy, too. one by one the flowers hung their heads and said, "we cannot bloom, for persephone has gone." the trees dropped their leaves and moaned, "persephone has gone, gone." the birds flew away and said, "we cannot sing for persephone has gone." demeter was more miserable than any one else. she had heard persephone call her, and had gone straight home. she searched all the earth for her child. she asked every one she met these questions, "have you seen persephone? where is persephone?" the only answer she ever received was, "gone, gone, persephone is gone!" demeter became a wrinkled old woman. no one would have known that she was the kind mother who had always smiled on the people. nothing grew on the earth and all was dreary and barren. demeter said that she would do nothing until persephone returned to her. it was useless for the people to plow the soil. it was useless to plant the seeds. nothing could grow without the help of demeter. all the people were idle and sad. when demeter found no one on earth who could tell her about persephone, she looked up toward the sky. there she saw apollo in his bright chariot. he was not driving as high in the sky as he was wont to do. often he gathered dark mists about him so that none saw him for many days. demeter knew that he must know about persephone, for he could see all things on earth and in the sky. apollo told demeter that hades had carried persephone away and that she was with him in his underground home. demeter hastened to the great father zeus, who could do all things. she asked him to send to hades for her daughter. zeus called hermes. he bade him go as swiftly as the wind to the home of hades. hermes whispered to everything on the way that he was going for persephone so that all might be ready to welcome her back. he soon arrived in the kingdom and gave hades the message from zeus. he told about the barren earth and of how demeter was mourning for her child. he said she would not let anything grow until persephone came back. the people must starve if she did not soon return. then persephone wept bitterly, for that very day she had eaten a pomegranate and swallowed six of its seeds. hades pitied her and said that she need only stay with him one month for each seed she had eaten. joy gave her wings, and as swiftly as hermes himself, persephone flew up into the sunshine. apollo saw her and rose higher and higher into the sky. a gentle breeze came rustling from the southeast, and whispered something to everything he met. suddenly the flowers sprang up; the birds flocked together and sang; the trees put on bright green leaves. everything, great and small, began to say in his own language, "be happy for persephone has come! persephone has come!" demeter saw these changes and was puzzled. "can the earth be ungrateful? does she so soon forget persephone?" she cried. it was not long however before her own face became beautiful and happy, for she held again her beloved child in her arms. when demeter found that persephone could stay with her only half the year, she brought out the choicest treasures from her storehouse and while persephone stayed, the world was filled with beauty and joy. when she had gone, demeter covered the rivers and lakes, and spread a soft white blanket over the sleeping earth. then she, too, fell asleep and dreamed such pleasant dreams that she did not awake until she felt persephone's warm kiss on her forehead. [illustration] the swan maidens. a long, long time ago there was born in the east a wonderful king. he was called "the king of the golden sword." every day he came in his golden chariot scattering heat, light and happiness among his people. every day he passed from his palace in the east far over to his throne in the west. he never missed a day for he wanted to see that everyone had a full share of his gifts. throughout the kingdom the birds sang and the flowers bloomed. the sky was full of beautiful pictures which were constantly changing. the king had many daughters who were called swan maidens. they were as graceful as swans and usually wore white featherlike dresses. the swan maidens loved their good father and each one longed to help him in his work. sometimes the king saw that the grass was brown or the buds were not coming out. then he called the swan maidens to him and said, "my children, this must not be. there is nothing more beautiful in the kingdom than the green grass and the trees. they need your care." gladly each maiden changed her dress and set out at once on her journey. often they could not all work upon the grass and the buds. some of them ran off to play with the stones in the brook. the best ones went down to feed the roots and worms, and worked out of sight. when their tasks were finished they always hurried back to their father, the king. they went so noiselessly and swiftly that for a long time their way of travelling was a mystery. in the fall, the king called the bravest swan maidens to him. he told them they must go away for a long time. the swan maidens wrapped themselves in white, feathery blankets and came softly down to the shivering flowers. gently they placed a white spread on the earth and left no small seed uncovered. at last, when the king smiled and their work was done, they stole away so softly and happily that no one missed them. [illustration] the poplar tree. one night, just at sunset, an old man found the pot of gold which lies under the end of the rainbow. his home was far beyond the dark forest, through which he was passing. the pot of gold was heavy, and he soon began to look for a safe place in which to hide it until morning. a poplar tree stood near the path stretching its branches straight out from the trunk. that was the way the poplar trees grew in those days. "ah," said the man, "this tree is the very place in which to conceal my treasure. "the trees are all asleep, i see, and these leaves are large and thick." he carefully placed the pot of gold in the tree, and hurried home to tell of his good fortune. very early the next morning, iris, the rainbow messenger, missed the precious pot of gold. she hastened to zeus and told him of the loss. zeus immediately sent hermes in search of it. hermes soon came to the forest where it was hidden. [illustration] he awakened the trees, and asked them if they had seen the pot of gold. they shook their heads sleepily, and murmured something which hermes could not understand. then zeus himself spoke to them. "hold your arms high above your heads," he said, "that i may see that all are awake." up went the arms, but alas, down to the ground came the pot of gold. the poplar tree was more surprised than any one else. he was a very honest tree and for a moment hung his head in grief and shame. then again he stretched his arms high above his head, and said, "forgive me, great father; hereafter i shall stand in this way that you may know that i hide nothing from the sun, my king." at first the poplar tree was much laughed at. he was often told that he looked like a great umbrella which a storm had turned inside out. but as years went by every small poplar was taught to grow as fearless, straight and open hearted as himself, and the whole poplar family became respected and loved for its uprightness and strength. [illustration] the donkey and the salt. one time a merchant went to the seashore for a load of salt. there were many hills and streams to cross on the journey. as the path was narrow and rocky, the man made his donkey carry the salt in large bags upon his back. it was a warm day, and the donkey did not like his heavy load. he hung down his head and went as slowly as he could. after a while they came to a stream which had only a foot bridge over it. the donkey went through the water, splash! splash! splash! in the middle of the stream was a large stone which he did not see. he stumbled and fell, and the water ran over the bags of salt. soon the donkey was glad that he had fallen, for he found his load much lighter. they came to another stream, but the donkey did not stumble this time. he lay down in the middle of the brook. he was a wise donkey. this time he lost so much salt that his master was angry, for he was obliged to go back to the seashore for another load. as they were walking along, the merchant laughed to himself. he thought he knew a way to cure the donkey of this trick. when they came to the seashore, he filled the bags with sponges, and started for home. the donkey thought, "what a light load i have," and trotted gaily along over the rough road. again they came to the brook. "ah!" thought the donkey, "i will make my load still lighter." he lay down in the middle of the brook. this time he found his load so heavy that he could scarcely rise. his master kindly helped him, but the donkey was not happy. the water ran down his sides and made him more miserable. "oh," thought he, "i will never lie down in the water again." once more his master led him back to the seashore. he filled the bags with salt. the donkey was wiser now and carried the salt safely home. the secret of fire. a tree story. one summer night a great army of pine trees settled down in a quiet valley to rest. they were a tall, dark, grave-looking company. they held their heads high in the air, for they were the only trees in the world who knew the wonderful secret of fire. high above this valley, on the hillside, lived a little company of oaks. they were young, brave, and strong-hearted. when they saw the great band of pines marching into the valley, the tallest one said: "let us make them divide the gift of fire with us." "no," said the oldest, wisest oak, "we must not risk, foolishly, the lives of our acorns. we could do nothing against so many." all the acorns had been listening to what the tree said. each one longed to help in finding out the great secret. one of them became so excited that he fell from the limb, down upon the hard ground. he did not stop at the foot of the tree, but rolled over and over, far down into the valley. here a brook picked him up and hurried him away; but as he stopped to rest by a stone, he heard his good friend, the wind, talking to a pine tree. "what is the secret of fire which the pine trees know?" asked the wind. "don't you think it is selfish to keep it all to yourselves?" the pine tree loved the wind and answered: "great wind, it is, indeed, a wonderful secret; you must never tell it." then she whispered it to the wind. the little acorn went on and on down the stream. he came to an old log, which was the home of a large family of squirrels. the mother squirrel was very sad. the last flood had brought her and her children far away from her old forest home. her family had all been saved, but food was scarce and winter was near. the acorn felt very sorry for her and said: "i am too small to do you much good alone. if you will carry me back to my home, i will show you a forest with plenty of nuts. you can take your family there in the fall." this the squirrel was very glad to do. as they went along the acorn called to all the elms, maples, willows and hickories to meet that night on the hilltop. "come to the hill across from the great blue mountains," he said. "there you will learn the secret of fire." by evening they were all there, in great companies, ready for war on the pines. when the squirrel came to the forest and saw all the nuts she was much pleased. she offered to carry the acorn to the very top of the tallest tree. the trees were all glad of this, for every one wanted to hear what he said. when the acorn began to speak, even the wind stopped whispering and listened. "friends," he said, "there must be no battle. the pine trees have only the same gift of fire that you have. to every tree that stretches out its arms the glorious sun gives this gift. but it was in this way that the pine trees learned the secret of getting the fire from the wood: they saw an old indian chief with two curious pieces of wood. one was round and smooth, the other was sharp-pointed. with all his strength he was rubbing them together. soon he had worn a groove in the round stick. he rubbed faster and faster, and there in the groove was a tiny spark of fire. then the indian blew his breath upon the spark and a little yellow flame leaped up. all the pine trees saw it. 'see, it is fire!' they said." when the great company of trees had heard the acorn's story they shook their heads in doubt. then the acorn said: "this is the true secret of fire. if you do not believe it why do you not try it for yourselves." they took this advice and all the trees learned that what he had said was true. they were so happy that they spent the whole night in singing and dancing. in the morning, when they saw the great blue mountains and the beautiful valley, many of them settled down upon the hillside for life. the pines looked up and saw hundreds of trees with their shining arms. they were so frightened that they climbed high up on the mountain side. there they stayed a long, long time. [illustration] they grew sad and lonely, and often sighed and wished for their old home and comforts. but they were brave and strong-hearted, and helped each other. at last, some of them came down into the valley again. through suffering they had grown strong and unselfish. they gave their best trees to the people and their fairest to the children at christmas time. indeed, there is not a tree in the world to-day more loved than the pine tree, who first had the secret of fire. [illustration] a fairy story. some fairies once lived in a dark glen in a pine forest. they were real fairies, many of them not higher than a pin. their greatest treasure was a magic cap which had been in the fairy family for many generations. the most wonderful thing about the cap was that it fitted exactly any one who wore it. when one fairy put it on, he and all the others became invisible. a stupid race of giants lived among the mountains near them. they wanted the fairy cap more than anything else in the world. one warm day when the elves were away from home, a giant came into the glen. he was seeking just such a cool place for his afternoon nap. he was so large and the glen so small that when he lay down he almost filled the valley. the music of a fairy brook soon lulled him to sleep. perhaps you have heard how a giant snores, and how his breath comes in great puffs. the giant was snoring and puffing when the fairies came towards home. they heard the strange sound and thought a great storm was brewing. "there has never been such a wind in the glen," said the fairy queen. "we will not go down into it. we must seek shelter for to-night on this hillside." just then they came to the giant's ear. "here is a fine cavern," the queen said, and she stopped and waved her wand. a fairy hastened forward to carry the cap to a safe place in the cave, for that was always their first care. just then the giant awoke. he raised his great head. oh, how miserable the fairies were! they wept and moaned until even the dull ear of the giant heard them. it was a sound like the tolling of tiny silver bells. he listened and understood what the wee voice of the prisoner in his ear was saying. he was the wisest and most kind-hearted of all the giants. he helped the little creature gently out into his hand, and looked at him in wonder. he had never before seen a fairy. in vain the brave little fellow tried to conceal the precious cap. the giant saw the wonderful star and knew at once that he had the treasure cap of the elves. he set the fairy carefully upon the ground, and shouted for joy as he found that the cap exactly fitted his own great head. the poor fairies could no longer see him, but they heard a sound like thunder, as he hurried over the stones towards his home. they were now afraid to move about while the sun shone. they crept under leaves and into shells and cried bitterly. by sundown every plant in the glen was wet with their tears. the sharp eyes of the eagle on the mountain top saw them and a great pity filled his heart. "i must help the fairies," he said, "otherwise i should not be worthy to be called the 'king of birds'." he went directly to the home of the giants and demanded the cap, but they refused to give it up. [illustration] all that an eagle could do, he did, but as the giants wore the invisible cap he could not see them. he could only hear their great voices. he knew however that the giants were proud of their great size and strength, and liked, above all things, to be seen. he was sure that they would not wear the cap in battle, and he did not lose hope. one day they carefully placed it under a large stone on the mountain side below them. the keen eye of the eagle was watching. he flew fearlessly to the spot as soon as the giants had left it. he lifted the stone in his great talons, and was soon flying away with the cap to the fairy glen. the giants saw him, and knew at once what he was doing. they began a fierce attack upon him. the air was filled with flying arrows and sharp rocks. drops of blood fell on the mountain side, and many feathers fluttered down, but the brave eagle was soon out of their reach. he did not stop until the cap was safe in the fairy queen's lap. there was great rejoicing among the fairies that day. they had a feast in the eagle's honor, and healed his wounds with fairy magic. on the mountain side, wherever the blood and feathers fell, there sprang up trees with featherlike leaves and blood-red berries. all the giants, fairies, plants and animals knew why they grew. the unselfish love in the eagle's blood could not die, but lived again in the beautiful trees. but people who did not know how they came there, called them mountain ash trees. [illustration] philemon and baucis. on a high hill in greece, long ago, lived philemon and baucis. they had always been poor but never unhappy. at the time of this story the people in the valley below them were very busy. zeus, their king, had sent word that he was about to visit them. hermes, his messenger, was to come with him. the people were getting ready great feasts, and making everything beautiful for their coming. for miles out of the city, men were watching for the golden chariot and white horses of the king. one night, just at dark, two beggars came into the valley. they stopped at every house and asked for food and a place to sleep. but the people were too busy or too tired to attend to their needs. footsore and weary, at last they climbed the hill to the hut of philemon and baucis. these good people had eaten scarcely anything for several days that they might have food to offer the king. when they saw the strangers, philemon said, "surely these men need food more than the king." baucis spread her one white table cloth upon the table. she brought out bacon and herbs, wild honey and milk. she set these before the strangers with all the good dishes that she had. then a wonderful thing happened. the dishes which the strangers touched turned to gold. the milk in the pitcher became rich nectar. philemon and baucis dropped upon their knees. they knew that their guests could be no other than zeus and hermes. zeus raised his hand and said, "arise, good people, ask what you will and it shall be yours." philemon and baucis cried in one voice: "grant, oh zeus, that one of us may not outlive the other, but that both may die in the same instant." this had long been the wish in each heart, and the fear of being left alone in the world was the one trouble of their old age. zeus smiled and changed their rude hut into a beautiful castle, and granted them many years of happy life. one morning the people in the valley noticed that the castle had disappeared. they hurried to the spot and found growing in its place two beautiful trees, an oak and a linden. no trace of the good couple could be found. many years after, however, a traveller lying under the trees heard them whispering to each other. he lay very still and soon learned that in them philemon and baucis still lived, happy and contented, and protected by zeus from all harm. [illustration] daphne. daphne was the daughter of the river peneus. she was a beautiful child and her father loved her more than anything else in the world. her home was in a cave which he had cut for her in a great white cliff. the walls of the cave were of marble. from the roof hung crystal chandeliers which peneus' servants had made. on the floor was a soft green carpet woven by the water fairies. peneus brought his most beautiful pebbles to daphne's cave every night. he sang songs to her in the evenings and told her stories of his travels. she visited with him the great island which he was building in the sea. when the morning star shone in the sky it was daphne who awakened the birds and flowers. with her golden hair flying behind her, she sped into the forest. everything awoke when they felt the touch of her rosy fingers, and smiled as they saw her happy face. the trees and the forest animals were her playfellows, and she had no wish for other friends. she learned their ways, and the deer could not run more swiftly than she, nor the birds sing more sweetly. one day as she was running over the stones near the cave, king apollo saw her. "ah, little maid," said he, "you are very beautiful. your feet are too tender for the hard rocky earth. "come, you shall live with me in my palace in the sky." but daphne fled from him. she did not want to leave her beautiful earth home. fear gave her wings, and faster and faster she flew. her hair streamed behind her like a cloud of golden light. apollo followed more swiftly than the wind. "stop and listen," he cried; "i am not a foe, foolish girl. it is apollo who follows you. i shall carry you to a home more beautiful than anything you have ever seen." she felt his breath upon her hair, and saw his hand as he stretched it forth to seize her. "father, save me from apollo," she cried. "let the earth enclose me." peneus heard her voice and instantly her feet became fastened in the soil like roots. a soft bark covered her body and her beautiful hair became the leaves of the laurel tree. apollo sadly gathered some of the leaves and wove them into a wreath. he laid his hand upon the tree and said, "i would have made you happy, but you would not listen to me. "at least you shall be my tree. your leaves shall be ever green, and heroes shall be crowned with them in sign of victory." [illustration] an indian story of the mole. an indian once saw a squirrel sunning himself in a tree top. the squirrel saw the hunter and leaped upon a passing cloud. he had escaped into cloudland before an arrow could reach him. the indian set a trap for him hoping that he would soon return to the tree for food. the sun happened to be coming that way and was caught in the trap. suddenly, in the middle of the day, it became dark. the indian was frightened and said, "ah me, what have i done, i have surely caught the sun in my trap." he sent many animals up to set it free, but all were instantly burned to ashes. at last the mole said, "let me try, i shall bore through the ground of the sky and gnaw off the cords which hold the trap." he did this, but just as he loosened the last cord the sun sprang forth and the bright light shone full in his eyes. the poor mole dropped to the earth and though his friends were able to save his life, he was blind. "you need not pity me," he said, "i prefer to live underground, where really there is no use for eyes." all the moles were so proud of this hero mole that they tried to be like him in every way. they, too, went to live in a dark hole in the earth. their eyes, which they did not need to use, became so small that they were entirely hidden by their fur. indeed it is now so hard to find them that many people think the entire mole family is blind. [illustration] how the spark of fire was saved. long ago when fire was first brought to earth, it was given into the care of two beldams at the end of the world. the cahroc indians knew where it was hidden. they needed fire and were always planning ways to get it. they went at last to the wise coyote. "that is simple enough," said he, "i will show you a way to get it. fire is a great blessing and should be free to all people." the coyote knew every inch of the road to the beldams' hut. along the path leading to it, he stationed beasts, the strongest and best runners nearer the hut and the weaker ones farther off. nearest the guarded den, he placed one of the sinewy cahroc men. then he walked boldly up to the door of the hut and knocked. the beldams, not fearing a coyote in the least, invited him in. they were often lonely, living so near the end of the world. when the coyote had rested before the fire for some time, he said, "the cahroc nation need fire. could you not give them one small spark? you would never miss it. here it is of no use." the beldams answered, "we do not love it, but we dare not give it away. we must guard it while we live." the coyote had expected them to say this. he sprang to the window, and instantly outside were heard such sounds, that the beldams rushed out to see what the frightful noise could be. each animal in the line was sounding the watch-word of fire in his own way. the wild horse neighed, the mountain lion roared, the gray wolf howled, the serpent hissed, the buffalo bellowed, and every small animal did its part equally well. indeed, it is no wonder that the beldams were frightened nearly to death. the cahroc man brought water and told them not to fear for themselves. the coyote seized a half-burned brand and was off in an instant. the beldams sprang after him and followed him closely over hill and valley. faster than the wind they flew. they were stronger than he, and though he put all his wild-wood nerve to the strain, they steadily gained. soon the race must end! but puma, the monstrous cat, was watching, and leaped up just in time to save the brand. each animal was in its place and the good fire passed on. it came at last to the cahroc nation, and was afterwards free to all people under the sun. there were only two mishaps in all the race. as the squirrel turned a corner of stumps and bowlders, his beautiful tail caught fire, and a brown track was burned up over his back to his shoulders, and the curl has remained in his tail to this day. the frog had a harder fate. he was the last one in the line of beasts. when the brand reached him it was smaller than the smallest coal in the grate. he seized it carefully and jumped forward as fast as he could, but the hand of the foremost beldam caught him and held him fast. how his heart beat! his eyeballs bulged out of his head, and he has looked ever since much in the same scared way. he did not lose his courage, however. he swallowed the coal and sprang into the water. sad to tell, the beldam still held in her hand his special pride and care, his tail. henceforth only the tadpoles could wear tails. the frog sought a log and sat down upon it to think. "i did my duty, even if i lost my beauty," he thought; "that is enough for a frog. this spark must be saved." after much choking he spat the swallowed spark well into the bark. the gift came, in this way, to all men; for, in even the wettest weather, if you rub two sticks together, fire is sure to come. because we know how the frog hurt his throat that day, we like to listen to his hoarse voice when we hear him singing to his children in the spring. balder. the people in the north once believed that high above the clouds was the beautiful plain of asgard. odin, ruler of asgard, mighty thor, and many other heroes lived on the plain. their homes were great castles, splendid with silver and gold. in the middle of the plain, and apart from the other dwellings, stood a pure white palace. nothing that was not fair and good had ever dared to enter it. it was the home of balder. because of his great beauty and wisdom, he was called "balder the beautiful," and "balder the good." everything loved him. the dull rocks and the gray old mountains met him with a smile. the flowers opened, the birds sang and the water sparkled when they saw his face. one night he dreamed that he must soon leave asgard and all the things that he loved. the next night he dreamed that he was living in the gloomy underground world. the third night, when the same terrible dream came to him, he was greatly troubled. he told odin, his father, and frigga, his mother, about it. odin, in great fear, called together his wisest heroes. they shook their heads but could do nothing to help him. frigga cried, "it shall not be! i, his mother, will save him." she went straight way to heimdal, who guarded the rainbow bridge. bifrost, which was the name of the bridge, was the only path which led from asgard to the earth. heimdal allowed only those who lived in the plain to pass over it. all feared heimdal, yet they loved him. he could see to the ends of the world. he could hear the wool growing on the sheep's back, and knew when each grass blade broke into the sunshine. heimdal loved balder and when he heard what troubled frigga, pitied her. he gave her his swift black horse and showed her the way to the ends of the earth. for nine days and nights she traveled without food or rest. she asked everything she met to promise not to harm balder. animals, flowers, trees, water, air, fire, everything she asked gladly gave the promise. they smiled in wonder at the question. who could wish to hurt the gentle balder? alas, the mistletoe did not promise. frigga saw it growing high up on an oak tree. it seemed too small and weak to do any harm. she did not ask it to promise. on the tenth day of her journey, she came back again to asgard. she told the sorrowing odin and his friends what she had done. in their joy they found a new way to do balder honor. he stood in their midst while the most skillful heroes hurled their arrows at him. at first, they threw only small twigs and pebbles. everything, however, had soon proved itself true to its promise. then the heroes lost all fear of harming him and threw their warlike weapons. balder stood unharmed and smiling among them. each day they met on the plain and in this sport proved the love of all things for him. the blind höder was the only one in asgard who could not join in the game. he was balder's brother and loved him very dearly. höder was not unhappy, but always cheered and shouted as gaily as the others. one day as he stood alone, loki saw him. loki was a mischief maker. his jokes were often cruel; indeed, most of the unhappiness in asgard was caused by loki's unkindness. "höder, why do you not do balder honor?" asked loki. "i am blind," höder answered, "and besides i have nothing to throw." "here is my arrow," said loki. "take it; i will guide your hands." alas, the cruel loki had made the arrow of mistletoe. he knew that this was the only way in which balder could be harmed. he longed to see the surprise of the heroes when balder should at last be wounded. away flew the arrow. balder, the beautiful, fell lifeless to the ground. then all asgard was dark with sorrow. strong heroes wept and would not be comforted. the earth grew cold, white and still. the water would not flow, and the seeds refused to grow. the birds were silent. no flowers breathed their perfumes into the air. there was not a smile in all the world. odin said, "this cannot be. "balder shall return. i, myself, will go and bring him from hela's dark regions." but frigga had already sent a messenger to the spirit world to beg queen hela to release balder. while waiting for the messenger to return, the heroes were not idle. for twelve days and nights they worked as only love can make men work. they did not pause for food nor rest. they built a great funeral pyre, and no one was too small to help in the work of love. they found balder's ship upon the seashore. they brought great logs from the forest and bound them upon the deck. upon these they placed his beautiful white horse, his dogs, his shining armor, and many things which he had loved on earth. when it was finished, they raised the sails, set the ship on fire and pushed it out upon the sea. they sang and wept all night until at sunrise the sails fell. they watched the flames die down and the waves wash over the sinking ship. as they turned sadly from the shore, they met the messenger from hela's regions. "rejoice," he said, "hela says, 'if everything living and lifeless weep for balder, he may return to us.'" there was great happiness in asgard that day. "surely," they thought, "everything in the world will weep for balder." they had forgotten the cruel loki. he sat with dry eyes though rocks and trees, birds and flowers, wind and clouds were shedding tears. when odin found that balder could not return to life, his anger and grief were terrible to see. in fear, loki hid himself deep in the earth under a mountain. frigga knew that he was conquered, and she patiently waited for the time when balder should again be allowed to bring gladness to the earth, and fill all the heavens with the glory of his smile. [illustration] how the chipmunk got the stripes on its back. do you all know the little striped chipmunk which lives in our woods? he has a cousin in far off india called the geloori. it is said the stripes came on the back of the geloori in a wonderful way. one day the great shiva saw a little gray chipmunk on the seashore. he was dipping his bushy tail into the sea, and shaking out the water on the shore. twenty times a minute he dipped it into the ocean. in wonder, shiva said, "what are you doing, little foolish, gray, geloori? why do you tire yourself with such hard labor?" the geloori answered, "i cannot stop, great shiva. "the storm blew down the palm tree, where i built my nest. "see! the tree has fallen seaward, and the nest lies in the water; my wife and pretty children are in it; i fear that it will float away. therefore all day and all night i must dip the water from the sea. "i hope soon to bale it dry. "i must save my darlings even if i spoil my tail." shiva stooped and with his great hand stroked the little squirrel. on the geloori's soft fur from his nose to the end of his tail, there came four green stripes! they were the marks of shiva's fingers, placed there as signs of love. shiva raised his hand, and the water rolled back from the shore. safe among the rocks and seaweeds, the palm tree lay on dry land. the little squirrel hastened to it; his tail was now high in the air. he found his wife and children dry and well in their house of woven grass-blades. as they sang their welcomes to him, the geloori noticed with delight that each smooth little back was striped with marks of shiva's fingers. this sign of love is still to be seen upon the back of chipmunks. that is the reason why in india, good men never kill them. a man who loves both children and chipmunks says, when he tells this story, "perhaps our squirrels, though shiva never stroked them, would be grateful if we left them, unharmed, to play in the maples in our woods." the fox and the stork. a fox met a stork and invited him to dinner. "with all my heart, friend," said the stork. when they arrived at the home of the fox and dinner was served, he was not so happy. the fox had fine hot soup, but he served it in shallow plates. the poor stork could only stand by and watch the fox eat. the fox seemed to think that it was a very good joke. the next day the stork met the fox and invited him to dinner. the stork brought out fine hot soup in a high narrow necked bottle, but the fox could not see the joke at all. the stork said, "friend fox, enjoy your dinner. i hope that the soup is as well flavored as yours was yesterday." as he said this he poured out half of the soup into a bowl and set it before the fox. the cunning old fox felt so ashamed that he has never looked anyone straight in the face since that day. prometheus. greece is far away to the east over a great ocean. it is a very small country with high mountains in every part of it. the people who lived there long ago could not easily go from one place to another. some of the mountains reached above the clouds and made great walls around their homes. men sometimes lived all their lives near the sea and never saw it. these people who were shut up in the little valley of greece did many wonderful things. as they could not go far from their homes they had time to see how beautiful the things around them were. perhaps they looked at the sky so much that they wished to have everything on earth just as beautiful. they gave their children work to do which made them strong and graceful. some of the greeks carved statues from the marble in the mountains. some built great temples of it. some painted pictures, while others made gardens more beautiful than pictures. others wrote books. many of the stories you like were written by the poets who lived in greece long ago. in all these ways the greeks showed their love for their country and made it a better place in which to live. though they were so wise they had many thoughts which seem strange to us. they believed that long before they were born a race of giants had lived among the mountains. at one time the giants grew angry with zeus, their king, and wished to take his throne away from him. there was a wise giant, named prometheus, who begged them not to attempt to do this. he tried to show them how foolish they were. they would not listen to him. zeus lived upon mount olympus, the highest mountain in greece. the giants brought great rocks to this mountain and piled them up, higher and higher, until they reached the sky. zeus waited until the giants had finished their work and were ready for battle. then he put out his hand and touched the great mound. instantly it fell over into the sea. prometheus and his brother were now the only people on earth. they were so lonely that zeus told them to model some people from clay. prometheus made animals and men and epimetheus, his brother, gave them gifts of courage, swiftness and strength. to some he gave feathers and wings, to others fur and claws, and to others a hard shelly covering. when he came to man he had no covering left. zeus said, "i will clothe man," and that is the reason his covering is so delicate and beautiful. prometheus' people could not breathe. zeus sent him to Æolus, the god of the winds, for help. Æolus sent his strong son, north wind, back with prometheus. when north wind saw the people of clay he whistled with surprise. he blew his breath upon them. they turned as white as snow and began to breathe. they were a cold people, however, and prometheus did not love them. he went to Æolus again and this time south wind and the zephyrs came with him. south wind brought the people green grass and flowers and birds. the zephyrs showed them how to laugh and cry and sing and dance. but the people were stupid. they lived like ants in dark caves. prometheus saw that there was only one thing which would help them. that was _fire_. fire was the most precious thing zeus had, and he kept it ever burning around his throne. when prometheus asked for fire zeus was angry. "i have already given too much to your people," he said. "let them now help themselves." prometheus was sad, indeed. he loved his people more than he did himself. at last he said: "they shall have the fire. i will pay for it with my life." he went straight to zeus' throne and filled a ferule with it, and carried it to his people. then the people began to be wise. he taught them to cook, and to build houses, and to sail their ships upon the ocean. he showed them how to get rich ores from the mountains and prepare them for use. they learned how to plow and to reap and to store up their food for the winter. zeus was angry with prometheus. he chained him to a rock on the top of a high mountain. he sent a great bird each day to torment him. zeus said that he must stay there until he repented and returned the fire to heaven. there prometheus stayed and suffered for many burning summers and long, cold winters. sometimes he grew faint-hearted and wished to be free. then he looked down and saw how the fire was helping the people and how happy they were, and he grew strong again. after many, many years, a greek hero who was sailing over the mountain in a golden cup, saw prometheus. it was hercules. he shot the bird with a golden arrow, unbound the chains and set the wise prometheus free. [illustration] hermes. Æolus was the father of all the winds, great and small. long ago, they all lived happily together in a dark cave near the sea. on holidays, north wind, south wind, east wind and west wind and their faithful sisters, came home and told of their travels. the whirlwinds performed their most wonderful feats, and the zephyrs sang their sweetest songs. these holidays, however, did not come often. there were no idle children in the family of Æolus. they swept and dusted the whole world. they carried water over all the earth. they helped push the great ships across the ocean. the smaller winds scattered the seeds and sprinkled the flowers, and did many other things which you may find out for yourselves. indeed, they were so busy that Æolus was often left alone in his dark home for several days at a time. he was glad when one summer morning a baby came to the cave. the baby's name was hermes, but Æolus called him "little mischief," because he was so little and so full of tricks. zeus was hermes' father and his mother was the beautiful queen maia. she was often called "star of spring," because people thought that wherever she stepped flowers sprang from under the snow. Æolus loved hermes dearly. he taught him many secrets which only the winds know. hermes was a wise baby and understood all that Æolus told him. when he was only two days old he could run and whistle as well as north wind. one day while he was very young he climbed out of his cradle and ran down to the seashore. there he found an old tortoise shell. he picked it up and put a row of holes along each edge of the shell. through these holes he wove some reeds which he found upon the seashore. then he blew softly upon the reeds. the birds heard such wonderful music that they stopped to listen. the leaves on the trees began to dance, and nodded to the flowers to keep still. the waves on the shore caught the tune and have been singing it ever since. hermes had invented the lyre and brought a new kind of music into the world. he soon tired of his lyre and went back to his cradle in the cave. as he lay there he could see a beautiful blue meadow with many white cows upon it. hermes knew that the cows belonged to his brother, king apollo. "what fun," thought he, "i will go and make the cows run." off he ran after them until he was tired and out of breath. then he drove them all backward into a cave, and fastened them in. king apollo soon missed the cows and searched all the meadow for them. he traced them to the cave, but when he came closer to it, he found that all the tracks led from the opening, not into it. near the cave he saw an old man who told him that he had seen the cows. he said that with them he had seen a baby with wings on his cap and heels. apollo knew at once that the baby was his brother, hermes. he went straight to the cave of Æolus. there was hermes in his cradle playing with the shell just like any other baby. apollo was angry and commanded him to stop laughing and crowing and tell him where the white cows were. hermes only picked up the shell and breathed softly upon it. apollo forgot his anger and everything but the beautiful music. he took hermes in his arms and kissed him and begged him to teach him his secret. hermes was glad to be so easily forgiven. he gave apollo the lyre and taught him many ways to play upon it. apollo was soon able to make even sweeter music than hermes, and he afterwards became the god of music. he was so thankful to hermes for his gift that he gave him a wonderful rod called the caduceus. whatever hermes touched with the rod became wise, loving and unselfish. one time he saw two hissing serpents about to spring at each other in fury. he touched them with the caduceus. instantly they twined themselves lovingly around the rod and never again left it. apollo also gave hermes charge over all the cows in the blue meadow. hermes loved the cows and often took them with him on his journeys. he was a wild youth and a great traveler, and so it happens that in nearly all the countries of the world hermes and his white cows have been seen. iris' bridge. in the sky where the amber tints are seen on the clouds, iris was born. she loved her home and all the beautiful things around her. perhaps she sailed in the moon's silver boat and knew why the stars kept twinkling. perhaps she feasted on sunshine and dew, and slept on the soft white clouds. more than anything in her sky-home, iris loved her grandfather, the stern old ocean. when he was merry, and drove his white horses over the water, she was happy. when he was troubled, and the sky grew dark and sad, she quietly slipped her hand into his. instantly he smiled, and became gentle again. he longed always to keep her with him, but the sun said: "no, iris belongs to both ocean and sky. "let her be the messenger between heaven and earth." they placed golden wings upon her shoulders and made her a bridge of beautiful colors. one end of the bridge they rested in the sky, but the other iris could fasten to the earth with a pot of gold. this was the way iris' path was made: the earth gave the tints of her fairest flowers, the sea brought great ribbons of silvery mist, the wind was the shuttle, the sky was the loom and the sun himself was the weaver. it is no wonder that the most beautiful thing in all the world is iris' bridge, the rainbow. [illustration] the golden bough: a study of magic and religion by sir james george frazer contents preface subject index chapter . the king of the wood . diana and virbius . artemis and hippolytus . recapitulation chapter . priestly kings chapter . sympathetic magic . the principles of magic . homoeopathic or imitative magic . contagious magic . the magician's progress chapter . magic and religion chapter . the magical control of the weather . the public magician . the magical control of rain . the magical control of the sun . the magical control of the wind chapter . magicians as kings chapter . incarnate human gods chapter . departmental kings of nature chapter . the worship of trees . tree-spirits . beneficent powers of tree-spirits chapter . relics of tree worship in modern europe chapter . the influence of the sexes on vegetation chapter . the sacred marriage . diana as a goddess of fertility . the marriage of the gods chapter . the kings of rome and alba . numa and egeria . the king as jupiter chapter . succession to the kingdom in ancient latium chapter . the worship of the oak chapter . dianus and diana chapter . the burden of royalty . royal and priestly taboos . divorce of the spiritual from the temporal power chapter . the perils of the soul . the soul as a mannikin . absence and recall of the soul . the soul as a shadow and a reflection chapter . tabooed acts . taboos on intercourse with strangers . taboos on eating and drinking . taboos on showing the face . taboos on quitting the house . taboos on leaving food over chapter . tabooed persons . chiefs and kings tabooed . mourners tabooed . women tabooed at menstruation and childbirth . warriors tabooed . manslayers tabooed . hunters and fishers tabooed chapter . tabooed things . the meaning of taboo . iron tabooed . sharp weapons tabooed . blood tabooed . the head tabooed . hair tabooed . ceremonies at hair-cutting . disposal of cut hair and nails . spittle tabooed . foods tabooed . knots and rings tabooed chapter . tabooed words . personal names tabooed . names of relations tabooed . names of the dead tabooed . names of kings and other sacred persons tabooed . names of gods tabooed chapter . our debt to the savage chapter . the killing of the divine king . the mortality of the gods . kings killed when their strength fails . kings killed at the end of a fixed term chapter . temporary kings chapter . sacrifice of the king�s son chapter . succession to the soul chapter . the killing of the tree-spirit . the whitsuntide mummers . burying the carnival . carrying out death . bringing in summer . battle of summer and winter . death and resurrection of kostrubonko . death and revival of vegetation . analogous rites in india . the magic spring chapter . the myth of adonis chapter . adonis in syria chapter . adonis in cyprus chapter . the ritual of adonis chapter . the gardens of adonis chapter . the myth and ritual of attis chapter . attis as a god of vegetation chapter . human representatives of attis chapter . oriental religions in the west chapter . the myth of osiris chapter . the ritual of osiris . the popular rites . the official rites chapter . the nature of osiris . osiris a corn-god . osiris a tree-spirit . osiris a god of fertility . osiris a god of the dead chapter . isis chapter . osiris and the sun chapter . dionysus chapter . demeter and persephone chapter . corn-mother and corn-maiden in n. europe chapter . corn-mother in many lands . the corn-mother in america . the rice-mother in the east indies . the spirit of the corn embodied in human beings . the double personification of the corn as mother and daughter chapter . lityerses . songs of the corn reapers . killing the corn-spirit . human sacrifices for the crops . the corn-spirit slain in his human representatives chapter . the corn-spirit as an animal . animal embodiments of the corn-spirit . the corn-spirit as a wolf or a dog . the corn-spirit as a cock . the corn-spirit as a hare . the corn-spirit as a cat . the corn-spirit as a goat . the corn-spirit as a bull, cow, or ox . the corn-spirit as a horse or mare . the corn-spirit as a pig (boar or sow) . on the animal embodiments of the corn-spirit chapter . ancient deities of vegetation as animals . dionysus, the goat and the bull . demeter, the pig and the horse . attis, adonis, and the pig . osiris, the pig and the bull . virbius and the horse chapter . eating the god . the sacrament of first-fruits . eating the god among the aztecs . many manii at aricia chapter . homeopathic magic of a flesh diet chapter . killing the divine animal . killing the sacred buzzard . killing the sacred ram . killing the sacred serpent . killing the sacred turtles . killing the sacred bear chapter . the propitiation of wild animals by hunters chapter . types of animal sacrament . the egyptian and the aino types of sacrament . processions with sacred animals chapter . the transference of evil . the transference to inanimate objects . the transference to animals . the transference to men . the transference of evil in europe chapter . the public expulsion of evils . the omnipresence of demons . the occasional expulsion of evils . the periodic expulsion of evils chapter . public scapegoats . the expulsion of embodied evils . the occasional expulsion of evils in a material vehicle . the periodic expulsion of evils in a material vehicle . on scapegoats in general chapter . human scapegoats in classical antiquity . the human scapegoat in ancient rome . the human scapegoat in ancient greece . the roman saturnalia chapter . killing the god in mexico chapter . between heaven and earth . not to touch the earth . not to see the sun . the seclusion of girls at puberty . reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty chapter . the myth of balder chapter . the fire-festivals of europe . the fire-festivals in general . the lenten fires . the easter fires . the beltane fires . the midsummer fires . the hallowe�en fires . the midwinter fires . the need-fire chapter . the interpretation of the fire-festivals . on the fire-festivals in general . the solar theory of the fire-festivals . the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals chapter . the burning of human beings in the fires . the burning of effigies in the fires . the burning of men and animals in the fires chapter . balder and the mistletoe chapter . the external soul in folk-tales chapter . the external soul in folk-custom . the external soul in inanimate things . the external soul in plants . the external soul in animals . the ritual of death and resurrection chapter . the golden bough chapter . farewell to nemi preface the primary aim of this book is to explain the remarkable rule which regulated the succession to the priesthood of diana at aricia. when i first set myself to solve the problem more than thirty years ago, i thought that the solution could be propounded very briefly, but i soon found that to render it probable or even intelligible it was necessary to discuss certain more general questions, some of which had hardly been broached before. in successive editions the discussion of these and kindred topics has occupied more and more space, the enquiry has branched out in more and more directions, until the two volumes of the original work have expanded into twelve. meantime a wish has often been expressed that the book should be issued in a more compendious form. this abridgment is an attempt to meet the wish and thereby to bring the work within the range of a wider circle of readers. while the bulk of the book has been greatly reduced, i have endeavoured to retain its leading principles, together with an amount of evidence sufficient to illustrate them clearly. the language of the original has also for the most part been preserved, though here and there the exposition has been somewhat condensed. in order to keep as much of the text as possible i have sacrificed all the notes, and with them all exact references to my authorities. readers who desire to ascertain the source of any particular statement must therefore consult the larger work, which is fully documented and provided with a complete bibliography. in the abridgment i have neither added new matter nor altered the views expressed in the last edition; for the evidence which has come to my knowledge in the meantime has on the whole served either to confirm my former conclusions or to furnish fresh illustrations of old principles. thus, for example, on the crucial question of the practice of putting kings to death either at the end of a fixed period or whenever their health and strength began to fail, the body of evidence which points to the wide prevalence of such a custom has been considerably augmented in the interval. a striking instance of a limited monarchy of this sort is furnished by the powerful mediaeval kingdom of the khazars in southern russia, where the kings were liable to be put to death either on the expiry of a set term or whenever some public calamity, such as drought, dearth, or defeat in war, seemed to indicate a failure of their natural powers. the evidence for the systematic killing of the khazar kings, drawn from the accounts of old arab travellers, has been collected by me elsewhere.[ ] africa, again, has supplied several fresh examples of a similar practice of regicide. among them the most notable perhaps is the custom formerly observed in bunyoro of choosing every year from a particular clan a mock king, who was supposed to incarnate the late king, cohabited with his widows at his temple-tomb, and after reigning for a week was strangled.[ ] the custom presents a close parallel to the ancient babylonian festival of the sacaea, at which a mock king was dressed in the royal robes, allowed to enjoy the real king's concubines, and after reigning for five days was stripped, scourged, and put to death. that festival in its turn has lately received fresh light from certain assyrian inscriptions,[ ] which seem to confirm the interpretation which i formerly gave of the festival as a new year celebration and the parent of the jewish festival of purim.[ ] other recently discovered parallels to the priestly kings of aricia are african priests and kings who used to be put to death at the end of seven or of two years, after being liable in the interval to be attacked and killed by a strong man, who thereupon succeeded to the priesthood or the kingdom.[ ] [ ] j. g. frazer, "the killing of the khazar kings," _folk-lore,_ xxviii. ( ), pp. - . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the soul of central africa_ (london, ), p. . compare j. g. frazer, & ;the mackie ethnological expedition to central africa," _man,_ xx. ( ), p. . [ ] h. zimmern, _zum babylonischen neujahrsfest_ (leipzig, ). compare a. h. sayce, in _journal of the royal asiatic society,_ july , pp. - . [ ] _the golden bough,_ part vi. _the scapegoat,_ pp. _sqq.,_ _sqq._ [ ] p. amaury talbot in _journal of the african society,_ july , pp. _sq.; id.,_ in _folk-lore, xxvi._ ( ), pp. _sq.;_ h. r. palmer, in _journal of the african society,_ july , pp. , _sq._ with these and other instances of like customs before us it is no longer possible to regard the rule of succession to the priesthood of diana at aricia as exceptional; it clearly exemplifies a widespread institution, of which the most numerous and the most similar cases have thus far been found in africa. how far the facts point to an early influence of africa on italy, or even to the existence of an african population in southern europe, i do not presume to say. the pre-historic historic relations between the two continents are still obscure and still under investigation. whether the explanation which i have offered of the institution is correct or not must be left to the future to determine. i shall always be ready to abandon it if a better can be suggested. meantime in committing the book in its new form to the judgment of the public i desire to guard against a misapprehension of its scope which appears to be still rife, though i have sought to correct it before now. if in the present work i have dwelt at some length on the worship of trees, it is not, i trust, because i exaggerate its importance in the history of religion, still less because i would deduce from it a whole system of mythology; it is simply because i could not ignore the subject in attempting to explain the significance of a priest who bore the title of king of the wood, and one of whose titles to office was the plucking of a bough--the golden bough--from a tree in the sacred grove. but i am so far from regarding the reverence for trees as of supreme importance for the evolution of religion that i consider it to have been altogether subordinate to other factors, and in particular to the fear of the human dead, which, on the whole, i believe to have been probably the most powerful force in the making of primitive religion. i hope that after this explicit disclaimer i shall no longer be taxed with embracing a system of mythology which i look upon not merely as false but as preposterous and absurd. but i am too familiar with the hydra of error to expect that by lopping off one of the monster's heads i can prevent another, or even the same, from sprouting again. i can only trust to the candour and intelligence of my readers to rectify this serious misconception of my views by a comparison with my own express declaration. j. g. frazer. brick court, temple, london, june . i. the king of the wood . diana and virbius who does not know turner's picture of the golden bough? the scene, suffused with the golden glow of imagination in which the divine mind of turner steeped and transfigured even the fairest natural landscape, is a dream-like vision of the little woodland lake of nemi-- "diana's mirror," as it was called by the ancients. no one who has seen that calm water, lapped in a green hollow of the alban hills, can ever forget it. the two characteristic italian villages which slumber on its banks, and the equally italian palace whose terraced gardens descend steeply to the lake, hardly break the stillness and even the solitariness of the scene. diana herself might still linger by this lonely shore, still haunt these woodlands wild. in antiquity this sylvan landscape was the scene of a strange and recurring tragedy. on the northern shore of the lake, right under the precipitous cliffs on which the modern village of nemi is perched, stood the sacred grove and sanctuary of diana nemorensis, or diana of the wood. the lake and the grove were sometimes known as the lake and grove of aricia. but the town of aricia (the modern la riccia) was situated about three miles off, at the foot of the alban mount, and separated by a steep descent from the lake, which lies in a small crater-like hollow on the mountain side. in this sacred grove there grew a certain tree round which at any time of the day, and probably far into the night, a grim figure might be seen to prowl. in his hand he carried a drawn sword, and he kept peering warily about him as if at every instant he expected to be set upon by an enemy. he was a priest and a murderer; and the man for whom he looked was sooner or later to murder him and hold the priesthood in his stead. such was the rule of the sanctuary. a candidate for the priesthood could only succeed to office by slaying the priest, and having slain him, he retained office till he was himself slain by a stronger or a craftier. the post which he held by this precarious tenure carried with it the title of king; but surely no crowned head ever lay uneasier, or was visited by more evil dreams, than his. for year in, year out, in summer and winter, in fair weather and in foul, he had to keep his lonely watch, and whenever he snatched a troubled slumber it was at the peril of his life. the least relaxation of his vigilance, the smallest abatement of his strength of limb or skill of fence, put him in jeopardy; grey hairs might seal his death-warrant. to gentle and pious pilgrims at the shrine the sight of him might well seem to darken the fair landscape, as when a cloud suddenly blots the sun on a bright day. the dreamy blue of italian skies, the dappled shade of summer woods, and the sparkle of waves in the sun, can have accorded but ill with that stern and sinister figure. rather we picture to ourselves the scene as it may have been witnessed by a belated wayfarer on one of those wild autumn nights when the dead leaves are falling thick, and the winds seem to sing the dirge of the dying year. it is a sombre picture, set to melancholy music--the background of forest showing black and jagged against a lowering and stormy sky, the sighing of the wind in the branches, the rustle of the withered leaves under foot, the lapping of the cold water on the shore, and in the foreground, pacing to and fro, now in twilight and now in gloom, a dark figure with a glitter of steel at the shoulder whenever the pale moon, riding clear of the cloud-rack, peers down at him through the matted boughs. the strange rule of this priesthood has no parallel in classical antiquity, and cannot be explained from it. to find an explanation we must go farther afield. no one will probably deny that such a custom savours of a barbarous age, and, surviving into imperial times, stands out in striking isolation from the polished italian society of the day, like a primaeval rock rising from a smooth-shaven lawn. it is the very rudeness and barbarity of the custom which allow us a hope of explaining it. for recent researches into the early history of man have revealed the essential similarity with which, under many superficial differences, the human mind has elaborated its first crude philosophy of life. accordingly, if we can show that a barbarous custom, like that of the priesthood of nemi, has existed elsewhere; if we can detect the motives which led to its institution; if we can prove that these motives have operated widely, perhaps universally, in human society, producing in varied circumstances a variety of institutions specifically different but generically alike; if we can show, lastly, that these very motives, with some of their derivative institutions, were actually at work in classical antiquity; then we may fairly infer that at a remoter age the same motives gave birth to the priesthood of nemi. such an inference, in default of direct evidence as to how the priesthood did actually arise, can never amount to demonstration. but it will be more or less probable according to the degree of completeness with which it fulfils the conditions i have indicated. the object of this book is, by meeting these conditions, to offer a fairly probable explanation of the priesthood of nemi. i begin by setting forth the few facts and legends which have come down to us on the subject. according to one story the worship of diana at nemi was instituted by orestes, who, after killing thoas, king of the tauric chersonese (the crimea), fled with his sister to italy, bringing with him the image of the tauric diana hidden in a faggot of sticks. after his death his bones were transported from aricia to rome and buried in front of the temple of saturn, on the capitoline slope, beside the temple of concord. the bloody ritual which legend ascribed to the tauric diana is familiar to classical readers; it is said that every stranger who landed on the shore was sacrificed on her altar. but transported to italy, the rite assumed a milder form. within the sanctuary at nemi grew a certain tree of which no branch might be broken. only a runaway slave was allowed to break off, if he could, one of its boughs. success in the attempt entitled him to fight the priest in single combat, and if he slew him he reigned in his stead with the title of king of the wood (_rex nemorensis_). according to the public opinion of the ancients the fateful branch was that golden bough which, at the sibyl's bidding, aeneas plucked before he essayed the perilous journey to the world of the dead. the flight of the slave represented, it was said, the flight of orestes; his combat with the priest was a reminiscence of the human sacrifices once offered to the tauric diana. this rule of succession by the sword was observed down to imperial times; for amongst his other freaks caligula, thinking that the priest of nemi had held office too long, hired a more stalwart ruffian to slay him; and a greek traveller, who visited italy in the age of the antonines, remarks that down to his time the priesthood was still the prize of victory in a single combat. of the worship of diana at nemi some leading features can still be made out. from the votive offerings which have been found on the site, it appears that she was conceived of especially as a huntress, and further as blessing men and women with offspring, and granting expectant mothers an easy delivery. again, fire seems to have played a foremost part in her ritual. for during her annual festival, held on the thirteenth of august, at the hottest time of the year, her grove shone with a multitude of torches, whose ruddy glare was reflected by the lake; and throughout the length and breadth of italy the day was kept with holy rites at every domestic hearth. bronze statuettes found in her precinct represent the goddess herself holding a torch in her raised right hand; and women whose prayers had been heard by her came crowned with wreaths and bearing lighted torches to the sanctuary in fulfilment of their vows. some one unknown dedicated a perpetually burning lamp in a little shrine at nemi for the safety of the emperor claudius and his family. the terra-cotta lamps which have been discovered in the grove may perhaps have served a like purpose for humbler persons. if so, the analogy of the custom to the catholic practice of dedicating holy candles in churches would be obvious. further, the title of vesta borne by diana at nemi points clearly to the maintenance of a perpetual holy fire in her sanctuary. a large circular basement at the north-east corner of the temple, raised on three steps and bearing traces of a mosaic pavement, probably supported a round temple of diana in her character of vesta, like the round temple of vesta in the roman forum. here the sacred fire would seem to have been tended by vestal virgins, for the head of a vestal in terra-cotta was found on the spot, and the worship of a perpetual fire, cared for by holy maidens, appears to have been common in latium from the earliest to the latest times. further, at the annual festival of the goddess, hunting dogs were crowned and wild beasts were not molested; young people went through a purificatory ceremony in her honour; wine was brought forth, and the feast consisted of a kid cakes served piping hot on plates of leaves, and apples still hanging in clusters on the boughs. but diana did not reign alone in her grove at nemi. two lesser divinities shared her forest sanctuary. one was egeria, the nymph of the clear water which, bubbling from the basaltic rocks, used to fall in graceful cascades into the lake at the place called le mole, because here were established the mills of the modern village of nemi. the purling of the stream as it ran over the pebbles is mentioned by ovid, who tells us that he had often drunk of its water. women with child used to sacrifice to egeria, because she was believed, like diana, to be able to grant them an easy delivery. tradition ran that the nymph had been the wife or mistress of the wise king numa, that he had consorted with her in the secrecy of the sacred grove, and that the laws which he gave the romans had been inspired by communion with her divinity. plutarch compares the legend with other tales of the loves of goddesses for mortal men, such as the love of cybele and the moon for the fair youths attis and endymion. according to some, the trysting-place of the lovers was not in the woods of nemi but in a grove outside the dripping porta capena at rome, where another sacred spring of egeria gushed from a dark cavern. every day the roman vestals fetched water from this spring to wash the temple of vesta, carrying it in earthenware pitchers on their heads. in juvenal's time the natural rock had been encased in marble, and the hallowed spot was profaned by gangs of poor jews, who were suffered to squat, like gypsies, in the grove. we may suppose that the spring which fell into the lake of nemi was the true original egeria, and that when the first settlers moved down from the alban hills to the banks of the tiber they brought the nymph with them and found a new home for her in a grove outside the gates. the remains of baths which have been discovered within the sacred precinct, together with many terra-cotta models of various parts of the human body, suggest that the waters of egeria were used to heal the sick, who may have signified their hopes or testified their gratitude by dedicating likenesses of the diseased members to the goddess, in accordance with a custom which is still observed in many parts of europe. to this day it would seem that the spring retains medicinal virtues. the other of the minor deities at nemi was virbius. legend had it that virbius was the young greek hero hippolytus, chaste and fair, who learned the art of venery from the centaur chiron, and spent all his days in the greenwood chasing wild beasts with the virgin huntress artemis (the greek counterpart of diana) for his only comrade. proud of her divine society, he spurned the love of women, and this proved his bane. for aphrodite, stung by his scorn, inspired his stepmother phaedra with love of him; and when he disdained her wicked advances she falsely accused him to his father theseus. the slander was believed, and theseus prayed to his sire poseidon to avenge the imagined wrong. so while hippolytus drove in a chariot by the shore of the saronic gulf, the sea-god sent a fierce bull forth from the waves. the terrified horses bolted, threw hippolytus from the chariot, and dragged him at their hoofs to death. but diana, for the love she bore hippolytus, persuaded the leech aesculapius to bring her fair young hunter back to life by his simples. jupiter, indignant that a mortal man should return from the gates of death, thrust down the meddling leech himself to hades. but diana hid her favourite from the angry god in a thick cloud, disguised his features by adding years to his life, and then bore him far away to the dells of nemi, where she entrusted him to the nymph egeria, to live there, unknown and solitary, under the name of virbius, in the depth of the italian forest. there he reigned a king, and there he dedicated a precinct to diana. he had a comely son, virbius, who, undaunted by his father's fate, drove a team of fiery steeds to join the latins in the war against aeneas and the trojans. virbius was worshipped as a god not only at nemi but elsewhere; for in campania we hear of a special priest devoted to his service. horses were excluded from the arician grove and sanctuary because horses had killed hippolytus. it was unlawful to touch his image. some thought that he was the sun. "but the truth is," says servius, "that he is a deity associated with diana, as attis is associated with the mother of the gods, and erichthonius with minerva, and adonis with venus." what the nature of that association was we shall enquire presently. here it is worth observing that in his long and chequered career this mythical personage has displayed a remarkable tenacity of life. for we can hardly doubt that the saint hippolytus of the roman calendar, who was dragged by horses to death on the thirteenth of august, diana's own day, is no other than the greek hero of the same name, who, after dying twice over as a heathen sinner, has been happily resuscitated as a christian saint. it needs no elaborate demonstration to convince us that the stories told to account for diana's worship at nemi are unhistorical. clearly they belong to that large class of myths which are made up to explain the origin of a religious ritual and have no other foundation than the resemblance, real or imaginary, which may be traced between it and some foreign ritual. the incongruity of these nemi myths is indeed transparent, since the foundation of the worship is traced now to orestes and now to hippolytus, according as this or that feature of the ritual has to be accounted for. the real value of such tales is that they serve to illustrate the nature of the worship by providing a standard with which to compare it; and further, that they bear witness indirectly to its venerable age by showing that the true origin was lost in the mists of a fabulous antiquity. in the latter respect these nemi legends are probably more to be trusted than the apparently historical tradition, vouched for by cato the elder, that the sacred grove was dedicated to diana by a certain egerius baebius or laevius of tusculum, a latin dictator, on behalf of the peoples of tusculum, aricia, lanuvium, laurentum, cora, tibur, pometia, and ardea. this tradition indeed speaks for the great age of the sanctuary, since it seems to date its foundation sometime before b.c., the year in which pometia was sacked by the romans and disappears from history. but we cannot suppose that so barbarous a rule as that of the arician priesthood was deliberately instituted by a league of civilised communities, such as the latin cities undoubtedly were. it must have been handed down from a time beyond the memory of man, when italy was still in a far ruder state than any known to us in the historical period. the credit of the tradition is rather shaken than confirmed by another story which ascribes the foundation of the sanctuary to a certain manius egerius, who gave rise to the saying, "there are many manii at aricia." this proverb some explained by alleging that manius egerius was the ancestor of a long and distinguished line, whereas others thought it meant that there were many ugly and deformed people at aricia, and they derived the name manius from _mania,_ a bogey or bugbear to frighten children. a roman satirist uses the name manius as typical of the beggars who lay in wait for pilgrims on the arician slopes. these differences of opinion, together with the discrepancy between manius egerius of aricia and egerius laevius of tusculum, as well as the resemblance of both names to the mythical egeria, excite our suspicion. yet the tradition recorded by cato seems too circumstantial, and its sponsor too respectable, to allow us to dismiss it as an idle fiction. rather we may suppose that it refers to some ancient restoration or reconstruction of the sanctuary, which was actually carried out by the confederate states. at any rate it testifies to a belief that the grove had been from early times a common place of worship for many of the oldest cities of the country, if not for the whole latin confederacy. . artemis and hippolytus i have said that the arician legends of orestes and hippolytus, though worthless as history, have a certain value in so far as they may help us to understand the worship at nemi better by comparing it with the ritual and myths of other sanctuaries. we must ask ourselves, why did the author of these legends pitch upon orestes and hippolytus in order to explain virbius and the king of the wood? in regard to orestes, the answer is obvious. he and the image of the tauric diana, which could only be appeased with human blood, were dragged in to render intelligible the murderous rule of succession to the arician priesthood. in regard to hippolytus the case is not so plain. the manner of his death suggests readily enough a reason for the exclusion of horses from the grove; but this by itself seems hardly enough to account for the identification. we must try to probe deeper by examining the worship as well as the legend or myth of hippolytus. he had a famous sanctuary at his ancestral home of troezen, situated on that beautiful, almost landlocked bay, where groves of oranges and lemons, with tall cypresses soaring like dark spires above the garden of hesperides, now clothe the strip of fertile shore at the foot of the rugged mountains. across the blue water of the tranquil bay, which it shelters from the open sea, rises poseidon's sacred island, its peaks veiled in the sombre green of the pines. on this fair coast hippolytus was worshipped. within his sanctuary stood a temple with an ancient image. his service was performed by a priest who held office for life; every year a sacrificial festival was held in his honour; and his untimely fate was yearly mourned, with weeping and doleful chants, by unwedded maids. youths and maidens dedicated locks of their hair in his temple before marriage. his grave existed at troezen, though the people would not show it. it has been suggested, with great plausibility, that in the handsome hippolytus, beloved of artemis, cut off in his youthful prime, and yearly mourned by damsels, we have one of those mortal lovers of a goddess who appear so often in ancient religion, and of whom adonis is the most familiar type. the rivalry of artemis and phaedra for the affection of hippolytus reproduces, it is said, under different names, the rivalry of aphrodite and proserpine for the love of adonis, for phaedra is merely a double of aphrodite. the theory probably does no injustice either to hippolytus or to artemis. for artemis was originally a great goddess of fertility, and, on the principles of early religion, she who fertilises nature must herself be fertile, and to be that she must necessarily have a male consort. on this view, hippolytus was the consort of artemis at troezen, and the shorn tresses offered to him by the troezenian youths and maidens before marriage were designed to strengthen his union with the goddess, and so to promote the fruitfulness of the earth, of cattle, and of mankind. it is some confirmation of this view that within the precinct of hippolytus at troezen there were worshipped two female powers named damia and auxesia, whose connexion with the fertility of the ground is unquestionable. when epidaurus suffered from a dearth, the people, in obedience to an oracle, carved images of damia and auxesia out of sacred olive wood, and no sooner had they done so and set them up than the earth bore fruit again. moreover, at troezen itself, and apparently within the precinct of hippolytus, a curious festival of stone-throwing was held in honour of these maidens, as the troezenians called them; and it is easy to show that similar customs have been practised in many lands for the express purpose of ensuring good crops. in the story of the tragic death of the youthful hippolytus we may discern an analogy with similar tales of other fair but mortal youths who paid with their lives for the brief rapture of the love of an immortal goddess. these hapless lovers were probably not always mere myths, and the legends which traced their spilt blood in the purple bloom of the violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush of the rose were no idle poetic emblems of youth and beauty fleeting as the summer flowers. such fables contain a deeper philosophy of the relation of the life of man to the life of nature--a sad philosophy which gave birth to a tragic practice. what that philosophy and that practice were, we shall learn later on. . recapitulation we can now perhaps understand why the ancients identified hippolytus, the consort of artemis, with virbius, who, according to servius, stood to diana as adonis to venus, or attis to the mother of the gods. for diana, like artemis, was a goddess of fertility in general, and of childbirth in particular. as such she, like her greek counterpart, needed a male partner. that partner, if servius is right, was virbius. in his character of the founder of the sacred grove and first king of nemi, virbius is clearly the mythical predecessor or archetype of the line of priests who served diana under the title of kings of the wood, and who came, like him, one after the other, to a violent end. it is natural, therefore, to conjecture that they stood to the goddess of the grove in the same relation in which virbius stood to her; in short, that the mortal king of the wood had for his queen the woodland diana herself. if the sacred tree which he guarded with his life was supposed, as seems probable, to be her special embodiment, her priest may not only have worshipped it as his goddess but embraced it as his wife. there is at least nothing absurd in the supposition, since even in the time of pliny a noble roman used thus to treat a beautiful beech-tree in another sacred grove of diana on the alban hills. he embraced it, he kissed it, he lay under its shadow, he poured wine on its trunk. apparently he took the tree for the goddess. the custom of physically marrying men and women to trees is still practised in india and other parts of the east. why should it not have obtained in ancient latium? reviewing the evidence as a whole, we may conclude that the worship of diana in her sacred grove at nemi was of great importance and immemorial antiquity; that she was revered as the goddess of woodlands and of wild creatures, probably also of domestic cattle and of the fruits of the earth; that she was believed to bless men and women with offspring and to aid mothers in childbed; that her holy fire, tended by chaste virgins, burned perpetually in a round temple within the precinct; that associated with her was a water-nymph egeria who discharged one of diana's own functions by succouring women in travail, and who was popularly supposed to have mated with an old roman king in the sacred grove; further, that diana of the wood herself had a male companion virbius by name, who was to her what adonis was to venus, or attis to cybele; and, lastly, that this mythical virbius was represented in historical times by a line of priests known as kings of the wood, who regularly perished by the swords of their successors, and whose lives were in a manner bound up with a certain tree in the grove, because so long as that tree was uninjured they were safe from attack. clearly these conclusions do not of themselves suffice to explain the peculiar rule of succession to the priesthood. but perhaps the survey of a wider field may lead us to think that they contain in germ the solution of the problem. to that wider survey we must now address ourselves. it will be long and laborious, but may possess something of the interest and charm of a voyage of discovery, in which we shall visit many strange foreign lands, with strange foreign peoples, and still stranger customs. the wind is in the shrouds: we shake out our sails to it, and leave the coast of italy behind us for a time. ii. priestly kings the questions which we have set ourselves to answer are mainly two: first, why had diana's priest at nemi, the king of the wood, to slay his predecessor? second, why before doing so had he to pluck the branch of a certain tree which the public opinion of the ancients identified with virgil's golden bough? the first point on which we fasten is the priest's title. why was he called the king of the wood? why was his office spoken of as a kingdom? the union of a royal title with priestly duties was common in ancient italy and greece. at rome and in other cities of latium there was a priest called the sacrificial king or king of the sacred rites, and his wife bore the title of queen of the sacred rites. in republican athens the second annual magistrate of the state was called the king, and his wife the queen; the functions of both were religious. many other greek democracies had titular kings, whose duties, so far as they are known, seem to have been priestly, and to have centered round the common hearth of the state. some greek states had several of these titular kings, who held office simultaneously. at rome the tradition was that the sacrificial king had been appointed after the abolition of the monarchy in order to offer the sacrifices which before had been offered by the kings. a similar view as to the origin of the priestly kings appears to have prevailed in greece. in itself the opinion is not improbable, and it is borne out by the example of sparta, almost the only purely greek state which retained the kingly form of government in historical times. for in sparta all state sacrifices were offered by the kings as descendants of the god. one of the two spartan kings held the priesthood of zeus lacedaemon, the other the priesthood of heavenly zeus. this combination of priestly functions with royal authority is familiar to every one. asia minor, for example, was the seat of various great religious capitals peopled by thousands of sacred slaves, and ruled by pontiffs who wielded at once temporal and spiritual authority, like the popes of mediaeval rome. such priest-ridden cities were zela and pessinus. teutonic kings, again, in the old heathen days seem to have stood in the position, and to have exercised the powers, of high priests. the emperors of china offered public sacrifices, the details of which were regulated by the ritual books. the king of madagascar was high-priest of the realm. at the great festival of the new year, when a bullock was sacrificed for the good of the kingdom, the king stood over the sacrifice to offer prayer and thanksgiving, while his attendants slaughtered the animal. in the monarchical states which still maintain their independence among the gallas of eastern africa, the king sacrifices on the mountain tops and regulates the immolation of human victims; and the dim light of tradition reveals a similar union of temporal and spiritual power, of royal and priestly duties, in the kings of that delightful region of central america whose ancient capital, now buried under the rank growth of the tropical forest, is marked by the stately and mysterious ruins of palenque. when we have said that the ancient kings were commonly priests also, we are far from having exhausted the religious aspect of their office. in those days the divinity that hedges a king was no empty form of speech, but the expression of a sober belief. kings were revered, in many cases not merely as priests, that is, as intercessors between man and god, but as themselves gods, able to bestow upon their subjects and worshippers those blessings which are commonly supposed to be beyond the reach of mortals, and are sought, if at all, only by prayer and sacrifice offered to superhuman and invisible beings. thus kings are often expected to give rain and sunshine in due season, to make the crops grow, and so on. strange as this expectation appears to us, it is quite of a piece with early modes of thought. a savage hardly conceives the distinction commonly drawn by more advanced peoples between the natural and the supernatural. to him the world is to a great extent worked by supernatural agents, that is, by personal beings acting on impulses and motives like his own, liable like him to be moved by appeals to their pity, their hopes, and their fears. in a world so conceived he sees no limit to his power of influencing the course of nature to his own advantage. prayers, promises, or threats may secure him fine weather and an abundant crop from the gods; and if a god should happen, as he sometimes believes, to become incarnate in his own person, then he need appeal to no higher being; he, the savage, possesses in himself all the powers necessary to further his own well-being and that of his fellow-men. this is one way in which the idea of a man-god is reached. but there is another. along with the view of the world as pervaded by spiritual forces, savage man has a different, and probably still older, conception in which we may detect a germ of the modern notion of natural law or the view of nature as a series of events occurring in an invariable order without the intervention of personal agency. the germ of which i speak is involved in that sympathetic magic, as it may be called, which plays a large part in most systems of superstition. in early society the king is frequently a magician as well as a priest; indeed he appears to have often attained to power by virtue of his supposed proficiency in the black or white art. hence in order to understand the evolution of the kingship and the sacred character with which the office has commonly been invested in the eyes of savage or barbarous peoples, it is essential to have some acquaintance with the principles of magic and to form some conception of the extraordinary hold which that ancient system of superstition has had on the human mind in all ages and all countries. accordingly i propose to consider the subject in some detail. iii. sympathetic magic . the principles of magic if we analyse the principles of thought on which magic is based, they will probably be found to resolve themselves into two: first, that like produces like, or that an effect resembles its cause; and, second, that things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed. the former principle may be called the law of similarity, the latter the law of contact or contagion. from the first of these principles, namely the law of similarity, the magician infers that he can produce any effect he desires merely by imitating it: from the second he infers that whatever he does to a material object will affect equally the person with whom the object was once in contact, whether it formed part of his body or not. charms based on the law of similarity may be called homoeopathic or imitative magic. charms based on the law of contact or contagion may be called contagious magic. to denote the first of these branches of magic the term homoeopathic is perhaps preferable, for the alternative term imitative or mimetic suggests, if it does not imply, a conscious agent who imitates, thereby limiting the scope of magic too narrowly. for the same principles which the magician applies in the practice of his art are implicitly believed by him to regulate the operations of inanimate nature; in other words, he tacitly assumes that the laws of similarity and contact are of universal application and are not limited to human actions. in short, magic is a spurious system of natural law as well as a fallacious guide of conduct; it is a false science as well as an abortive art. regarded as a system of natural law, that is, as a statement of the rules which determine the sequence of events throughout the world, it may be called theoretical magic: regarded as a set of precepts which human beings observe in order to compass their ends, it may be called practical magic. at the same time it is to be borne in mind that the primitive magician knows magic only on its practical side; he never analyses the mental processes on which his practice is based, never reflects on the abstract principles involved in his actions. with him, as with the vast majority of men, logic is implicit, not explicit: he reasons just as he digests his food in complete ignorance of the intellectual and physiological processes which are essential to the one operation and to the other. in short, to him magic is always an art, never a science; the very idea of science is lacking in his undeveloped mind. it is for the philosophic student to trace the train of thought which underlies the magician's practice; to draw out the few simple threads of which the tangled skein is composed; to disengage the abstract principles from their concrete applications; in short, to discern the spurious science behind the bastard art. if my analysis of the magician's logic is correct, its two great principles turn out to be merely two different misapplications of the association of ideas. homoeopathic magic is founded on the association of ideas by similarity: contagious magic is founded on the association of ideas by contiguity. homoeopathic magic commits the mistake of assuming that things which resemble each other are the same: contagious magic commits the mistake of assuming that things which have once been in contact with each other are always in contact. but in practice the two branches are often combined; or, to be more exact, while homoeopathic or imitative magic may be practised by itself, contagious magic will generally be found to involve an application of the homoeopathic or imitative principle. thus generally stated the two things may be a little difficult to grasp, but they will readily become intelligible when they are illustrated by particular examples. both trains of thought are in fact extremely simple and elementary. it could hardly be otherwise, since they are familiar in the concrete, though certainly not in the abstract, to the crude intelligence not only of the savage, but of ignorant and dull-witted people everywhere. both branches of magic, the homoeopathic and the contagious, may conveniently be comprehended under the general name of sympathetic magic, since both assume that things act on each other at a distance through a secret sympathy, the impulse being transmitted from one to the other by means of what we may conceive as a kind of invisible ether, not unlike that which is postulated by modern science for a precisely similar purpose, namely, to explain how things can physically affect each other through a space which appears to be empty. it may be convenient to tabulate as follows the branches of magic according to the laws of thought which underlie them: sympathetic magic (law of sympathy) | ------------------------------- | | homoeopathic magic contagious magic (law of similarity) (law of contact) i will now illustrate these two great branches of sympathetic magic by examples, beginning with homoeopathic magic. . homoeopathic or imitative magic perhaps the most familiar application of the principle that like produces like is the attempt which has been made by many peoples in many ages to injure or destroy an enemy by injuring or destroying an image of him, in the belief that, just as the image suffers, so does the man, and that when it perishes he must die. a few instances out of many may be given to prove at once the wide diffusion of the practice over the world and its remarkable persistence through the ages. for thousands of years ago it was known to the sorcerers of ancient india, babylon, and egypt, as well as of greece and rome, and at this day it is still resorted to by cunning and malignant savages in australia, africa, and scotland. thus the north american indians, we are told, believe that by drawing the figure of a person in sand, ashes, or clay, or by considering any object as his body, and then pricking it with a sharp stick or doing it any other injury, they inflict a corresponding injury on the person represented. for example, when an ojebway indian desires to work evil on any one, he makes a little wooden image of his enemy and runs a needle into its head or heart, or he shoots an arrow into it, believing that wherever the needle pierces or the arrow strikes the image, his foe will the same instant be seized with a sharp pain in the corresponding part of his body; but if he intends to kill the person outright, he burns or buries the puppet, uttering certain magic words as he does so. the peruvian indians moulded images of fat mixed with grain to imitate the persons whom they disliked or feared, and then burned the effigy on the road where the intended victim was to pass. this they called burning his soul. a malay charm of the same sort is as follows. take parings of nails, hair, eyebrows, spittle, and so forth of your intended victim, enough to represent every part of his person, and then make them up into his likeness with wax from a deserted bees' comb. scorch the figure slowly by holding it over a lamp every night for seven nights, and say: "it is not wax that i am scorching, it is the liver, heart, and spleen of so-and-so that i scorch." after the seventh time burn the figure, and your victim will die. this charm obviously combines the principles of homoeopathic and contagious magic; since the image which is made in the likeness of an enemy contains things which once were in contact with him, namely, his nails, hair, and spittle. another form of the malay charm, which resembles the ojebway practice still more closely, is to make a corpse of wax from an empty bees' comb and of the length of a footstep; then pierce the eye of the image, and your enemy is blind; pierce the stomach, and he is sick; pierce the head, and his head aches; pierce the breast, and his breast will suffer. if you would kill him outright, transfix the image from the head downwards; enshroud it as you would a corpse; pray over it as if you were praying over the dead; then bury it in the middle of a path where your victim will be sure to step over it. in order that his blood may not be on your head, you should say: "it is not i who am burying him, it is gabriel who is burying him." thus the guilt of the murder will be laid on the shoulders of the archangel gabriel, who is a great deal better able to bear it than you are. if homoeopathic or imitative magic, working by means of images, has commonly been practised for the spiteful purpose of putting obnoxious people out of the world, it has also, though far more rarely, been employed with the benevolent intention of helping others into it. in other words, it has been used to facilitate childbirth and to procure offspring for barren women. thus among the bataks of sumatra a barren woman, who would become a mother, will make a wooden image of a child and hold it in her lap, believing that this will lead to the fulfilment of her wish. in the babar archipelago, when a woman desires to have a child, she invites a man who is himself the father of a large family to pray on her behalf to upulero, the spirit of the sun. a doll is made of red cotton, which the woman clasps in her arms, as if she would suckle it. then the father of many children takes a fowl and holds it by the legs to the woman's head, saying, "o upulero, make use of the fowl; let fall, let descend a child, i beseech you, i entreat you, let a child fall and descend into my hands and on my lap." then he asks the woman, "has the child come?" and she answers, "yes, it is sucking already." after that the man holds the fowl on the husband's head, and mumbles some form of words. lastly, the bird is killed and laid, together with some betel, on the domestic place of sacrifice. when the ceremony is over, word goes about in the village that the woman has been brought to bed, and her friends come and congratulate her. here the pretence that a child has been born is a purely magical rite designed to secure, by means of imitation or mimicry, that a child really shall be born; but an attempt is made to add to the efficacy of the rite by means of prayer and sacrifice. to put it otherwise, magic is here blent with and reinforced by religion. among some of the dyaks of borneo, when a woman is in hard labour, a wizard is called in, who essays to facilitate the delivery in a rational manner by manipulating the body of the sufferer. meantime another wizard outside the room exerts himself to attain the same end by means which we should regard as wholly irrational. he, in fact, pretends to be the expectant mother; a large stone attached to his stomach by a cloth wrapt round his body represents the child in the womb, and, following the directions shouted to him by his colleague on the real scene of operations, he moves this make-believe baby about on his body in exact imitation of the movements of the real baby till the infant is born. the same principle of make-believe, so dear to children, has led other peoples to employ a simulation of birth as a form of adoption, and even as a mode of restoring a supposed dead person to life. if you pretend to give birth to a boy, or even to a great bearded man who has not a drop of your blood in his veins, then, in the eyes of primitive law and philosophy, that boy or man is really your son to all intents and purposes. thus diodorus tells us that when zeus persuaded his jealous wife hera to adopt hercules, the goddess got into bed, and clasping the burly hero to her bosom, pushed him through her robes and let him fall to the ground in imitation of a real birth; and the historian adds that in his own day the same mode of adopting children was practised by the barbarians. at the present time it is said to be still in use in bulgaria and among the bosnian turks. a woman will take a boy whom she intends to adopt and push or pull him through her clothes; ever afterwards he is regarded as her very son, and inherits the whole property of his adoptive parents. among the berawans of sarawak, when a woman desires to adopt a grownup man or woman, a great many people assemble and have a feast. the adopting mother, seated in public on a raised and covered seat, allows the adopted person to crawl from behind between her legs. as soon as he appears in front he is stroked with the sweet-scented blossoms of the areca palm and tied to a woman. then the adopting mother and the adopted son or daughter, thus bound together, waddle to the end of the house and back again in front of all the spectators. the tie established between the two by this graphic imitation of childbirth is very strict; an offence committed against an adopted child is reckoned more heinous than one committed against a real child. in ancient greece any man who had been supposed erroneously to be dead, and for whom in his absence funeral rites had been performed, was treated as dead to society till he had gone through the form of being born again. he was passed through a woman's lap, then washed, dressed in swaddling-clothes, and put out to nurse. not until this ceremony had been punctually performed might he mix freely with living folk. in ancient india, under similar circumstances, the supposed dead man had to pass the first night after his return in a tub filled with a mixture of fat and water; there he sat with doubled-up fists and without uttering a syllable, like a child in the womb, while over him were performed all the sacraments that were wont to be celebrated over a pregnant woman. next morning he got out of the tub and went through once more all the other sacraments he had formerly partaken of from his youth up; in particular, he married a wife or espoused his old one over again with due solemnity. another beneficent use of homoeopathic magic is to heal or prevent sickness. the ancient hindoos performed an elaborate ceremony, based on homoeopathic magic, for the cure of jaundice. its main drift was to banish the yellow colour to yellow creatures and yellow things, such as the sun, to which it properly belongs, and to procure for the patient a healthy red colour from a living, vigorous source, namely, a red bull. with this intention, a priest recited the following spell: "up to the sun shall go thy heart-ache and thy jaundice: in the colour of the red bull do we envelop thee! we envelop thee in red tints, unto long life. may this person go unscathed and be free of yellow colour! the cows whose divinity is rohini, they who, moreover, are themselves red (_rohinih_)--in their every form and every strength we do envelop thee. into the parrots, into the thrush, do we put thy jaundice, and, furthermore, into the yellow wagtail do we put thy jaundice." while he uttered these words, the priest, in order to infuse the rosy hue of health into the sallow patient, gave him water to sip which was mixed with the hair of a red bull; he poured water over the animal's back and made the sick man drink it; he seated him on the skin of a red bull and tied a piece of the skin to him. then in order to improve his colour by thoroughly eradicating the yellow taint, he proceeded thus. he first daubed him from head to foot with a yellow porridge made of tumeric or curcuma (a yellow plant), set him on a bed, tied three yellow birds, to wit, a parrot, a thrush, and a yellow wagtail, by means of a yellow string to the foot of the bed; then pouring water over the patient, he washed off the yellow porridge, and with it no doubt the jaundice, from him to the birds. after that, by way of giving a final bloom to his complexion, he took some hairs of a red bull, wrapt them in gold leaf, and glued them to the patient's skin. the ancients held that if a person suffering from jaundice looked sharply at a stone-curlew, and the bird looked steadily at him, he was cured of the disease. "such is the nature," says plutarch, "and such the temperament of the creature that it draws out and receives the malady which issues, like a stream, through the eyesight." so well recognised among birdfanciers was this valuable property of the stone-curlew that when they had one of these birds for sale they kept it carefully covered, lest a jaundiced person should look at it and be cured for nothing. the virtue of the bird lay not in its colour but in its large golden eye, which naturally drew out the yellow jaundice. pliny tells of another, or perhaps the same, bird, to which the greeks gave their name for jaundice, because if a jaundiced man saw it, the disease left him and slew the bird. he mentions also a stone which was supposed to cure jaundice because its hue resembled that of a jaundiced skin. one of the great merits of homoeopathic magic is that it enables the cure to be performed on the person of the doctor instead of on that of his victim, who is thus relieved of all trouble and inconvenience, while he sees his medical man writhe in anguish before him. for example, the peasants of perche, in france, labour under the impression that a prolonged fit of vomiting is brought about by the patient's stomach becoming unhooked, as they call it, and so falling down. accordingly, a practitioner is called in to restore the organ to its proper place. after hearing the symptoms he at once throws himself into the most horrible contortions, for the purpose of unhooking his own stomach. having succeeded in the effort, he next hooks it up again in another series of contortions and grimaces, while the patient experiences a corresponding relief. fee five francs. in like manner a dyak medicine-man, who has been fetched in a case of illness, will lie down and pretend to be dead. he is accordingly treated like a corpse, is bound up in mats, taken out of the house, and deposited on the ground. after about an hour the other medicine-men loose the pretended dead man and bring him to life; and as he recovers, the sick person is supposed to recover too. a cure for a tumour, based on the principle of homoeopathic magic, is prescribed by marcellus of bordeaux, court physician to theodosius the first, in his curious work on medicine. it is as follows. take a root of vervain, cut it across, and hang one end of it round the patient's neck, and the other in the smoke of the fire. as the vervain dries up in the smoke, so the tumour will also dry up and disappear. if the patient should afterwards prove ungrateful to the good physician, the man of skill can avenge himself very easily by throwing the vervain into water; for as the root absorbs the moisture once more, the tumour will return. the same sapient writer recommends you, if you are troubled with pimples, to watch for a falling star, and then instantly, while the star is still shooting from the sky, to wipe the pimples with a cloth or anything that comes to hand. just as the star falls from the sky, so the pimples will fall from your body; only you must be very careful not to wipe them with your bare hand, or the pimples will be transferred to it. further, homoeopathic and in general sympathetic magic plays a great part in the measures taken by the rude hunter or fisherman to secure an abundant supply of food. on the principle that like produces like, many things are done by him and his friends in deliberate imitation of the result which he seeks to attain; and, on the other hand, many things are scrupulously avoided because they bear some more or less fanciful resemblance to others which would really be disastrous. nowhere is the theory of sympathetic magic more systematically carried into practice for the maintenance of the food supply than in the barren regions of central australia. here the tribes are divided into a number of totem clans, each of which is charged with the duty of multiplying their totem for the good of the community by means of magical ceremonies. most of the totems are edible animals and plants, and the general result supposed to be accomplished by these ceremonies is that of supplying the tribe with food and other necessaries. often the rites consist of an imitation of the effect which the people desire to produce; in other words, their magic is homoeopathic or imitative. thus among the warramunga the headman of the white cockatoo totem seeks to multiply white cockatoos by holding an effigy of the bird and mimicking its harsh cry. among the arunta the men of the witchetty grub totem perform ceremonies for multiplying the grub which the other members of the tribe use as food. one of the ceremonies is a pantomime representing the fully-developed insect in the act of emerging from the chrysalis. a long narrow structure of branches is set up to imitate the chrysalis case of the grub. in this structure a number of men, who have the grub for their totem, sit and sing of the creature in its various stages. then they shuffle out of it in a squatting posture, and as they do so they sing of the insect emerging from the chrysalis. this is supposed to multiply the numbers of the grubs. again, in order to multiply emus, which are an important article of food, the men of the emu totem paint on the ground the sacred design of their totem, especially the parts of the emu which they like best to eat, namely, the fat and the eggs. round this painting the men sit and sing. afterwards performers, wearing head-dresses to represent the long neck and small head of the emu, mimic the appearance of the bird as it stands aimlessly peering about in all directions. the indians of british columbia live largely upon the fish which abound in their seas and rivers. if the fish do not come in due season, and the indians are hungry, a nootka wizard will make an image of a swimming fish and put it into the water in the direction from which the fish generally appear. this ceremony, accompanied by a prayer to the fish to come, will cause them to arrive at once. the islanders of torres straits use models of dugong and turtles to charm dugong and turtle to their destruction. the toradjas of central celebes believe that things of the same sort attract each other by means of their indwelling spirits or vital ether. hence they hang up the jawbones of deer and wild pigs in their houses, in order that the spirits which animate these bones may draw the living creatures of the same kind into the path of the hunter. in the island of nias, when a wild pig has fallen into the pit prepared for it, the animal is taken out and its back is rubbed with nine fallen leaves, in the belief that this will make nine more wild pigs fall into the pit, just as the nine leaves fell from the tree. in the east indian islands of saparoea, haroekoe, and noessa laut, when a fisherman is about to set a trap for fish in the sea, he looks out for a tree, of which the fruit has been much pecked at by birds. from such a tree he cuts a stout branch and makes of it the principal post in his fish-trap; for he believes that, just as the tree lured many birds to its fruit, so the branch cut from that tree will lure many fish to the trap. the western tribes of british new guinea employ a charm to aid the hunter in spearing dugong or turtle. a small beetle, which haunts coco-nut trees, is placed in the hole of the spear-haft into which the spear-head fits. this is supposed to make the spear-head stick fast in the dugong or turtle, just as the beetle sticks fast to a man's skin when it bites him. when a cambodian hunter has set his nets and taken nothing, he strips himself naked, goes some way off, then strolls up to the net as if he did not see it, lets himself be caught in it, and cries, "hillo! what's this? i'm afraid i'm caught." after that the net is sure to catch game. a pantomime of the same sort has been acted within the living memory in our scottish highlands. the rev. james macdonald, now of reay in caithness, tells us that in his boyhood when he was fishing with companions about loch aline and they had had no bites for a long time, they used to make a pretence of throwing one of their fellows overboard and hauling him out of the water, as if he were a fish; after that the trout or silloch would begin to nibble, according as the boat was on fresh or salt water. before a carrier indian goes out to snare martens, he sleeps by himself for about ten nights beside the fire with a little stick pressed down on his neck. this naturally causes the fall-stick of his trap to drop down on the neck of the marten. among the galelareese, who inhabit a district in the northern part of halmahera, a large island to the west of new guinea, it is a maxim that when you are loading your gun to go out shooting, you should always put the bullet in your mouth before you insert it in the gun; for by so doing you practically eat the game that is to be hit by the bullet, which therefore cannot possibly miss the mark. a malay who has baited a trap for crocodiles, and is awaiting results, is careful in eating his curry always to begin by swallowing three lumps of rice successively; for this helps the bait to slide more easily down the crocodile's throat. he is equally scrupulous not to take any bones out of his curry; for, if he did, it seems clear that the sharp-pointed stick on which the bait is skewered would similarly work itself loose, and the crocodile would get off with the bait. hence in these circumstances it is prudent for the hunter, before he begins his meal, to get somebody else to take the bones out of his curry, otherwise he may at any moment have to choose between swallowing a bone and losing the crocodile. this last rule is an instance of the things which the hunter abstains from doing lest, on the principle that like produces like, they should spoil his luck. for it is to be observed that the system of sympathetic magic is not merely composed of positive precepts; it comprises a very large number of negative precepts, that is, prohibitions. it tells you not merely what to do, but also what to leave undone. the positive precepts are charms: the negative precepts are taboos. in fact the whole doctrine of taboo, or at all events a large part of it, would seem to be only a special application of sympathetic magic, with its two great laws of similarity and contact. though these laws are certainly not formulated in so many words nor even conceived in the abstract by the savage, they are nevertheless implicitly believed by him to regulate the course of nature quite independently of human will. he thinks that if he acts in a certain way, certain consequences will inevitably follow in virtue of one or other of these laws; and if the consequences of a particular act appear to him likely to prove disagreeable or dangerous, he is naturally careful not to act in that way lest he should incur them. in other words, he abstains from doing that which, in accordance with his mistaken notions of cause and effect, he falsely believes would injure him; in short, he subjects himself to a taboo. thus taboo is so far a negative application of practical magic. positive magic or sorcery says, "do this in order that so and so may happen." negative magic or taboo says, "do not do this, lest so and so should happen." the aim of positive magic or sorcery is to produce a desired event; the aim of negative magic or taboo is to avoid an undesirable one. but both consequences, the desirable and the undesirable, are supposed to be brought about in accordance with the laws of similarity and contact. and just as the desired consequence is not really effected by the observance of a magical ceremony, so the dreaded consequence does not really result from the violation of a taboo. if the supposed evil necessarily followed a breach of taboo, the taboo would not be a taboo but a precept of morality or common sense. it is not a taboo to say, "do not put your hand in the fire"; it is a rule of common sense, because the forbidden action entails a real, not an imaginary evil. in short, those negative precepts which we call taboo are just as vain and futile as those positive precepts which we call sorcery. the two things are merely opposite sides or poles of one great disastrous fallacy, a mistaken conception of the association of ideas. of that fallacy, sorcery is the positive, and taboo the negative pole. if we give the general name of magic to the whole erroneous system, both theoretical and practical, then taboo may be defined as the negative side of practical magic. to put this in tabular form: magic | ---------------------- | | theoretical practical (magic as a (magic as a pseudo-science) pseudo-art) | ----------------- | | positive magic negative magic 		 or sorcery or taboo i have made these remarks on taboo and its relations to magic because i am about to give some instances of taboos observed by hunters, fishermen, and others, and i wished to show that they fall under the head of sympathetic magic, being only particular applications of that general theory. thus, among the esquimaux boys are forbidden to play cat's cradle, because if they did so their fingers might in later life become entangled in the harpoon-line. here the taboo is obviously an application of the law of similarity, which is the basis of homoeopathic magic: as the child's fingers are entangled by the string in playing cat's cradle, so they will be entangled by the harpoonline when he is a man and hunts whales. again, among the huzuls of the carpathian mountains the wife of a hunter may not spin while her husband is eating, or the game will turn and wind like the spindle, and the hunter will be unable to hit it. here again the taboo is clearly derived from the law of similarity. so, too, in most parts of ancient italy women were forbidden by law to spin on the highroads as they walked, or even to carry their spindles openly, because any such action was believed to injure the crops. probably the notion was that the twirling of the spindle would twirl the corn-stalks and prevent them from growing straight. so, too, among the ainos of saghalien a pregnant woman may not spin nor twist ropes for two months before her delivery, because they think that if she did so the child's guts might be entangled like the thread. for a like reason in bilaspore, a district of india, when the chief men of a village meet in council, no one present should twirl a spindle; for they think that if such a thing were to happen, the discussion, like the spindle, would move in a circle and never be wound up. in some of the east indian islands any one who comes to the house of a hunter must walk straight in; he may not loiter at the door, for were he to do so, the game would in like manner stop in front of the hunter's snares and then turn back, instead of being caught in the trap. for a similar reason it is a rule with the toradjas of central celebes that no one may stand or loiter on the ladder of a house where there is a pregnant woman, for such delay would retard the birth of the child; and in various parts of sumatra the woman herself in these circumstances is forbidden to stand at the door or on the top rung of the house-ladder under pain of suffering hard labour for her imprudence in neglecting so elementary a precaution. malays engaged in the search for camphor eat their food dry and take care not to pound their salt fine. the reason is that the camphor occurs in the form of small grains deposited in the cracks of the trunk of the camphor tree. accordingly it seems plain to the malay that if, while seeking for camphor, he were to eat his salt finely ground, the camphor would be found also in fine grains; whereas by eating his salt coarse he ensures that the grains of the camphor will also be large. camphor hunters in borneo use the leathery sheath of the leaf-stalk of the penang palm as a plate for food, and during the whole of the expedition they will never wash the plate, for fear that the camphor might dissolve and disappear from the crevices of the tree. apparently they think that to wash their plates would be to wash out the camphor crystals from the trees in which they are imbedded. the chief product of some parts of laos, a province of siam, is lac. this is a resinous gum exuded by a red insect on the young branches of trees, to which the little creatures have to be attached by hand. all who engage in the business of gathering the gum abstain from washing themselves and especially from cleansing their heads, lest by removing the parasites from their hair they should detach the other insects from the boughs. again, a blackfoot indian who has set a trap for eagles, and is watching it, would not eat rosebuds on any account; for he argues that if he did so, and an eagle alighted near the trap, the rosebuds in his own stomach would make the bird itch, with the result that instead of swallowing the bait the eagle would merely sit and scratch himself. following this train of thought the eagle hunter also refrains from using an awl when he is looking after his snares; for surely if he were to scratch with an awl, the eagles would scratch him. the same disastrous consequence would follow if his wives and children at home used an awl while he is out after eagles, and accordingly they are forbidden to handle the tool in his absence for fear of putting him in bodily danger. among the taboos observed by savages none perhaps are more numerous or important than the prohibitions to eat certain foods, and of such prohibitions many are demonstrably derived from the law of similarity and are accordingly examples of negative magic. just as the savage eats many animals or plants in order to acquire certain desirable qualities with which he believes them to be endowed, so he avoids eating many other animals and plants lest he should acquire certain undesirable qualities with which he believes them to be infected. in eating the former he practises positive magic; in abstaining from the latter he practises negative magic. many examples of such positive magic will meet us later on; here i will give a few instances of such negative magic or taboo. for example, in madagascar soldiers are forbidden to eat a number of foods lest on the principle of homoeopathic magic they should be tainted by certain dangerous or undesirable properties which are supposed to inhere in these particular viands. thus they may not taste hedgehog, "as it is feared that this animal, from its propensity of coiling up into a ball when alarmed, will impart a timid shrinking disposition to those who partake of it." again, no soldier should eat an ox's knee, lest like an ox he should become weak in the knees and unable to march. further, the warrior should be careful to avoid partaking of a cock that has died fighting or anything that has been speared to death; and no male animal may on any account be killed in his house while he is away at the wars. for it seems obvious that if he were to eat a cock that had died fighting, he would himself be slain on the field of battle; if he were to partake of an animal that had been speared, he would be speared himself; if a male animal were killed in his house during his absence, he would himself be killed in like manner and perhaps at the same instant. further, the malagasy soldier must eschew kidneys, because in the malagasy language the word for kidney is the same as that for "shot"; so shot he would certainly be if he ate a kidney. the reader may have observed that in some of the foregoing examples of taboos the magical influence is supposed to operate at considerable distances; thus among the blackfeet indians the wives and children of an eagle hunter are forbidden to use an awl during his absence, lest the eagles should scratch the distant husband and father; and again no male animal may be killed in the house of a malagasy soldier while he is away at the wars, lest the killing of the animal should entail the killing of the man. this belief in the sympathetic influence exerted on each other by persons or things at a distance is of the essence of magic. whatever doubts science may entertain as to the possibility of action at a distance, magic has none; faith in telepathy is one of its first principles. a modern advocate of the influence of mind upon mind at a distance would have no difficulty in convincing a savage; the savage believed in it long ago, and what is more, he acted on his belief with a logical consistency such as his civilised brother in the faith has not yet, so far as i am aware, exhibited in his conduct. for the savage is convinced not only that magical ceremonies affect persons and things afar off, but that the simplest acts of daily life may do so too. hence on important occasions the behaviour of friends and relations at a distance is often regulated by a more or less elaborate code of rules, the neglect of which by the one set of persons would, it is supposed, entail misfortune or even death on the absent ones. in particular when a party of men are out hunting or fighting, their kinsfolk at home are often expected to do certain things or to abstain from doing certain others, for the sake of ensuring the safety and success of the distant hunters or warriors. i will now give some instances of this magical telepathy both in its positive and in its negative aspect. in laos when an elephant hunter is starting for the chase, he warns his wife not to cut her hair or oil her body in his absence; for if she cut her hair the elephant would burst the toils, if she oiled herself it would slip through them. when a dyak village has turned out to hunt wild pigs in the jungle, the people who stay at home may not touch oil or water with their hands during the absence of their friends; for if they did so, the hunters would all be "butter-fingered" and the prey would slip through their hands. elephant-hunters in east africa believe that, if their wives prove unfaithful in their absence, this gives the elephant power over his pursuer, who will accordingly be killed or severely wounded. hence if a hunter hears of his wife's misconduct, he abandons the chase and returns home. if a wagogo hunter is unsuccessful, or is attacked by a lion, he attributes it to his wife's misbehaviour at home, and returns to her in great wrath. while he is away hunting, she may not let any one pass behind her or stand in front of her as she sits; and she must lie on her face in bed. the moxos indians of bolivia thought that if a hunter's wife was unfaithful to him in his absence he would be bitten by a serpent or a jaguar. accordingly, if such an accident happened to him, it was sure to entail the punishment, and often the death, of the woman, whether she was innocent or guilty. an aleutian hunter of sea-otters thinks that he cannot kill a single animal if during his absence from home his wife should be unfaithful or his sister unchaste. the huichol indians of mexico treat as a demi-god a species of cactus which throws the eater into a state of ecstasy. the plant does not grow in their country, and has to be fetched every year by men who make a journey of forty-three days for the purpose. meanwhile the wives at home contribute to the safety of their absent husbands by never walking fast, much less running, while the men are on the road. they also do their best to ensure the benefits which, in the shape of rain, good crops, and so forth, are expected to flow from the sacred mission. with this intention they subject themselves to severe restrictions like those imposed upon their husbands. during the whole of the time which elapses till the festival of the cactus is held, neither party washes except on certain occasions, and then only with water brought from the distant country where the holy plant grows. they also fast much, eat no salt, and are bound to strict continence. any one who breaks this law is punished with illness, and, moreover, jeopardises the result which all are striving for. health, luck, and life are to be gained by gathering the cactus, the gourd of the god of fire; but inasmuch as the pure fire cannot benefit the impure, men and women must not only remain chaste for the time being, but must also purge themselves from the taint of past sin. hence four days after the men have started the women gather and confess to grandfather fire with what men they have been in love from childhood till now. they may not omit a single one, for if they did so the men would not find a single cactus. so to refresh their memories each one prepares a string with as many knots as she has had lovers. this she brings to the temple, and, standing before the fire, she mentions aloud all the men she has scored on her string, name after name. having ended her confession, she throws the string into the fire, and when the god has consumed it in his pure flame, her sins are forgiven her and she departs in peace. from now on the women are averse even to letting men pass near them. the cactus-seekers themselves make in like manner a clean breast of all their frailties. for every peccadillo they tie a knot on a string, and after they have "talked to all the five winds" they deliver the rosary of their sins to the leader, who burns it in the fire. many of the indigenous tribes of sarawak are firmly persuaded that were the wives to commit adultery while their husbands are searching for camphor in the jungle, the camphor obtained by the men would evaporate. husbands can discover, by certain knots in the tree, when the wives are unfaithful; and it is said that in former days many women were killed by jealous husbands on no better evidence than that of these knots. further, the wives dare not touch a comb while their husbands are away collecting the camphor; for if they did so, the interstices between the fibres of the tree, instead of being filled with the precious crystals, would be empty like the spaces between the teeth of a comb. in the kei islands, to the southwest of new guinea, as soon as a vessel that is about to sail for a distant port has been launched, the part of the beach on which it lay is covered as speedily as possible with palm branches, and becomes sacred. no one may thenceforth cross that spot till the ship comes home. to cross it sooner would cause the vessel to perish. moreover, all the time that the voyage lasts three or four young girls, specially chosen for the duty, are supposed to remain in sympathetic connexion with the mariners and to contribute by their behaviour to the safety and success of the voyage. on no account, except for the most necessary purpose, may they quit the room that has been assigned to them. more than that, so long as the vessel is believed to be at sea they must remain absolutely motionless, crouched on their mats with their hands clasped between their knees. they may not turn their heads to the left or to the right or make any other movement whatsoever. if they did, it would cause the boat to pitch and toss; and they may not eat any sticky stuff, such as rice boiled in coco-nut milk, for the stickiness of the food would clog the passage of the boat through the water. when the sailors are supposed to have reached their destination, the strictness of these rules is somewhat relaxed; but during the whole time that the voyage lasts the girls are forbidden to eat fish which have sharp bones or stings, such as the sting-ray, lest their friends at sea should be involved in sharp, stinging trouble. where beliefs like these prevail as to the sympathetic connexion between friends at a distance, we need not wonder that above everything else war, with its stern yet stirring appeal to some of the deepest and tenderest of human emotions, should quicken in the anxious relations left behind a desire to turn the sympathetic bond to the utmost account for the benefit of the dear ones who may at any moment be fighting and dying far away. hence, to secure an end so natural and laudable, friends at home are apt to resort to devices which will strike us as pathetic or ludicrous, according as we consider their object or the means adopted to effect it. thus in some districts of borneo, when a dyak is out head-hunting, his wife or, if he is unmarried, his sister must wear a sword day and night in order that he may always be thinking of his weapons; and she may not sleep during the day nor go to bed before two in the morning, lest her husband or brother should thereby be surprised in his sleep by an enemy. among the sea dyaks of banting in sarawak the women strictly observe an elaborate code of rules while the men are away fighting. some of the rules are negative and some are positive, but all alike are based on the principles of magical homoeopathy and telepathy. amongst them are the following. the women must wake very early in the morning and open the windows as soon as it is light; otherwise their absent husbands will oversleep themselves. the women may not oil their hair, or the men will slip. the women may neither sleep nor doze by day, or the men will be drowsy on the march. the women must cook and scatter popcorn on the verandah every morning; so will the men be agile in their movements. the rooms must be kept very tidy, all boxes being placed near the walls; for if any one were to stumble over them, the absent husbands would fall and be at the mercy of the foe. at every meal a little rice must be left in the pot and put aside; so will the men far away always have something to eat and need never go hungry. on no account may the women sit at the loom till their legs grow cramped, otherwise their husbands will likewise be stiff in their joints and unable to rise up quickly or to run away from the foe. so in order to keep their husbands' joints supple the women often vary their labours at the loom by walking up and down the verandah. further, they may not cover up their faces, or the men would not to be able to find their way through the tall grass or jungle. again, the women may not sew with a needle, or the men will tread on the sharp spikes set by the enemy in the path. should a wife prove unfaithful while her husband is away, he will lose his life in the enemy's country. some years ago all these rules and more were observed by the women of banting, while their husbands were fighting for the english against rebels. but alas! these tender precautions availed them little; for many a man, whose faithful wife was keeping watch and ward for him at home, found a soldier's grave. in the island of timor, while war is being waged, the high-priest never quits the temple; his food is brought to him or cooked inside; day and night he must keep the fire burning, for if he were to let it die out, disaster would be fall the warriors and would continue so long as the hearth was cold. moreover, he must drink only hot water during the time the army is absent; for every draught of cold water would damp the spirits of the people, so that they could not vanquish the enemy. in the kei islands, when the warriors have departed, the women return indoors and bring out certain baskets containing fruits and stones. these fruits and stones they anoint and place on a board, murmuring as they do so, "o lord sun, moon, let the bullets rebound from our husbands, brothers, betrothed, and other relations, just as raindrops rebound from these objects which are smeared with oil." as soon as the first shot is heard, the baskets are put aside, and the women, seizing their fans, rush out of the houses. then, waving their fans in the direction of the enemy, they run through the village, while they sing, "o golden fans! let our bullets hit, and those of the enemy miss." in this custom the ceremony of anointing stones, in order that the bullets may recoil from the men like raindrops from the stones, is a piece of pure homoeopathic or imitative magic; but the prayer to the sun, that he will be pleased to give effect to the charm, is a religious and perhaps later addition. the waving of the fans seems to be a charm to direct the bullets towards or away from their mark, according as they are discharged from the guns of friends or foes. an old historian of madagascar informs us that "while the men are at the wars, and until their return, the women and girls cease not day and night to dance, and neither lie down nor take food in their own houses. and although they are very voluptuously inclined, they would not for anything in the world have an intrigue with another man while their husband is at the war, believing firmly that if that happened, their husband would be either killed or wounded. they believe that by dancing they impart strength, courage, and good fortune to their husbands; accordingly during such times they give themselves no rest, and this custom they observe very religiously." among the tshi-speaking peoples of the gold coast the wives of men who are away with the army paint themselves white, and adorn their persons with beads and charms. on the day when a battle is expected to take place, they run about armed with guns, or sticks carved to look like guns, and taking green paw-paws (fruits shaped somewhat like a melon), they hack them with knives, as if they were chopping off the heads of the foe. the pantomime is no doubt merely an imitative charm, to enable the men to do to the enemy as the women do to the paw-paws. in the west african town of framin, while the ashantee war was raging some years ago, mr. fitzgerald marriott saw a dance performed by women whose husbands had gone as carriers to the war. they were painted white and wore nothing but a short petticoat. at their head was a shrivelled old sorceress in a very short white petticoat, her black hair arranged in a sort of long projecting horn, and her black face, breasts, arms, and legs profusely adorned with white circles and crescents. all carried long white brushes made of buffalo or horse tails, and as they danced they sang, "our husbands have gone to ashanteeland; may they sweep their enemies off the face of the earth!" among the thompson indians of british columbia, when the men were on the war-path, the women performed dances at frequent intervals. these dances were believed to ensure the success of the expedition. the dancers flourished their knives, threw long sharp-pointed sticks forward, or drew sticks with hooked ends repeatedly backward and forward. throwing the sticks forward was symbolic of piercing or warding off the enemy, and drawing them back was symbolic of drawing their own men from danger. the hook at the end of the stick was particularly well adapted to serve the purpose of a life-saving apparatus. the women always pointed their weapons towards the enemy's country. they painted their faces red and sang as they danced, and they prayed to the weapons to preserve their husbands and help them to kill many foes. some had eagle-down stuck on the points of their sticks. when the dance was over, these weapons were hidden. if a woman whose husband was at the war thought she saw hair or a piece of a scalp on the weapon when she took it out, she knew that her husband had killed an enemy. but if she saw a stain of blood on it, she knew he was wounded or dead. when the men of the yuki tribe in california were away fighting, the women at home did not sleep; they danced continually in a circle, chanting and waving leafy wands. for they said that if they danced all the time, their husbands would not grow tired. among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands, when the men had gone to war, the women at home would get up very early in the morning and pretend to make war by falling upon their children and feigning to take them for slaves. this was supposed to help their husbands to go and do likewise. if a wife were unfaithful to her husband while he was away on the war-path, he would probably be killed. for ten nights all the women at home lay with their heads towards the point of the compass to which the war-canoes had paddled away. then they changed about, for the warriors were supposed to be coming home across the sea. at masset the haida women danced and sang war-songs all the time their husbands were away at the wars, and they had to keep everything about them in a certain order. it was thought that a wife might kill her husband by not observing these customs. when a band of carib indians of the orinoco had gone on the war-path, their friends left in the village used to calculate as nearly as they could the exact moment when the absent warriors would be advancing to attack the enemy. then they took two lads, laid them down on a bench, and inflicted a most severe scourging on their bare backs. this the youths submitted to without a murmur, supported in their sufferings by the firm conviction, in which they had been bred from childhood, that on the constancy and fortitude with which they bore the cruel ordeal depended the valour and success of their comrades in the battle. among the many beneficent uses to which a mistaken ingenuity has applied the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, is that of causing trees and plants to bear fruit in due season. in thüringen the man who sows flax carries the seed in a long bag which reaches from his shoulders to his knees, and he walks with long strides, so that the bag sways to and fro on his back. it is believed that this will cause the flax to wave in the wind. in the interior of sumatra rice is sown by women who, in sowing, let their hair hang loose down their back, in order that the rice may grow luxuriantly and have long stalks. similarly, in ancient mexico a festival was held in honour of the goddess of maize, or "the long-haired mother," as she was called. it began at the time "when the plant had attained its full growth, and fibres shooting forth from the top of the green ear indicated that the grain was fully formed. during this festival the women wore their long hair unbound, shaking and tossing it in the dances which were the chief feature in the ceremonial, in order that the tassel of the maize might grow in like profusion, that the grain might be correspondingly large and flat, and that the people might have abundance." in many parts of europe dancing or leaping high in the air are approved homoeopathic modes of making the crops grow high. thus in franche-comté they say that you should dance at the carnival in order to make the hemp grow tall. the notion that a person can influence a plant homoeopathically by his act or condition comes out clearly in a remark made by a malay woman. being asked why she stripped the upper part of her body naked in reaping the rice, she explained that she did it to make the rice-husks thinner, as she was tired of pounding thick-husked rice. clearly, she thought that the less clothing she wore the less husk there would be on the rice. the magic virtue of a pregnant woman to communicate fertility is known to bavarian and austrian peasants, who think that if you give the first fruit of a tree to a woman with child to eat, the tree will bring forth abundantly next year. on the other hand, the baganda believe that a barren wife infects her husband's garden with her own sterility and prevents the trees from bearing fruit; hence a childless woman is generally divorced. the greeks and romans sacrificed pregnant victims to the goddesses of the corn and of the earth, doubtless in order that the earth might teem and the corn swell in the ear. when a catholic priest remonstrated with the indians of the orinoco on allowing their women to sow the fields in the blazing sun, with infants at their breasts, the men answered, "father, you don't understand these things, and that is why they vex you. you know that women are accustomed to bear children, and that we men are not. when the women sow, the stalk of the maize bears two or three ears, the root of the yucca yields two or three basketfuls, and everything multiplies in proportion. now why is that? simply because the women know how to bring forth, and know how to make the seed which they sow bring forth also. let them sow, then; we men don't know as much about it as they do." thus on the theory of homoeopathic magic a person can influence vegetation either for good or for evil according to the good or the bad character of his acts or states: for example, a fruitful woman makes plants fruitful, a barren woman makes them barren. hence this belief in the noxious and infectious nature of certain personal qualities or accidents has given rise to a number of prohibitions or rules of avoidance: people abstain from doing certain things lest they should homoeopathically infect the fruits of the earth with their own undesirable state or condition. all such customs of abstention or rules of avoidance are examples of negative magic or taboo. thus, for example, arguing from what may be called the infectiousness of personal acts or states, the galelareese say that you ought not to shoot with a bow and arrows under a fruit-tree, or the tree will cast its fruit even as the arrows fall to the ground; and that when you are eating water-melon you ought not to mix the pips which you spit out of your mouth with the pips which you have put aside to serve as seed; for if you do, though the pips you spat out may certainly spring up and blossom, yet the blossoms will keep falling off just as the pips fell from your mouth, and thus these pips will never bear fruit. precisely the same train of thought leads the bavarian peasant to believe that if he allows the graft of a fruit-tree to fall on the ground, the tree that springs from that graft will let its fruit fall untimely. when the chams of cochinchina are sowing their dry rice fields and desire that no shower should fall, they eat their rice dry in order to prevent rain from spoiling the crop. in the foregoing cases a person is supposed to influence vegetation homoeopathically. he infects trees or plants with qualities or accidents, good or bad, resembling and derived from his own. but on the principle of homoeopathic magic the influence is mutual: the plant can infect the man just as much as the man can infect the plant. in magic, as i believe in physics, action and reaction are equal and opposite. the cherokee indians are adepts in practical botany of the homoeopathic sort. thus wiry roots of the catgut plant are so tough that they can almost stop a plowshare in the furrow. hence cherokee women wash their heads with a decoction of the roots to make the hair strong, and cherokee ball-players wash themselves with it to toughen their muscles. it is a galelareese belief that if you eat a fruit which has fallen to the ground, you will yourself contract a disposition to stumble and fall; and that if you partake of something which has been forgotten (such as a sweet potato left in the pot or a banana in the fire), you will become forgetful. the galelareese are also of opinion that if a woman were to consume two bananas growing from a single head she would give birth to twins. the guarani indians of south america thought that a woman would become a mother of twins if she ate a double grain of millet. in vedic times a curious application of this principle supplied a charm by which a banished prince might be restored to his kingdom. he had to eat food cooked on a fire which was fed with wood which had grown out of the stump of a tree which had been cut down. the recuperative power manifested by such a tree would in due course be communicated through the fire to the food, and so to the prince, who ate the food which was cooked on the fire which was fed with the wood which grew out of the tree. the sudanese think that if a house is built of the wood of thorny trees, the life of the people who dwell in that house will likewise be thorny and full of trouble. there is a fruitful branch of homoeopathic magic which works by means of the dead; for just as the dead can neither see nor hear nor speak, so you may on homoeopathic principles render people blind, deaf and dumb by the use of dead men's bones or anything else that is tainted by the infection of death. thus among the galelareese, when a young man goes a-wooing at night, he takes a little earth from a grave and strews it on the roof of his sweetheart's house just above the place where her parents sleep. this, he fancies, will prevent them from waking while he converses with his beloved, since the earth from the grave will make them sleep as sound as the dead. burglars in all ages and many lands have been patrons of this species of magic, which is very useful to them in the exercise of their profession. thus a south slavonian housebreaker sometimes begins operations by throwing a dead man's bone over the house, saying, with pungent sarcasm, "as this bone may waken, so may these people waken"; after that not a soul in the house can keep his or her eyes open. similarly, in java the burglar takes earth from a grave and sprinkles it round the house which he intends to rob; this throws the inmates into a deep sleep. with the same intention a hindoo will strew ashes from a pyre at the door of the house; indians of peru scatter the dust of dead men's bones; and ruthenian burglars remove the marrow from a human shin-bone, pour tallow into it, and having kindled the tallow, march thrice round the house with this candle burning, which causes the inmates to sleep a death-like sleep. or the ruthenian will make a flute out of a human leg-bone and play upon it; whereupon all persons within hearing are overcome with drowsiness. the indians of mexico employed for this maleficent purpose the left fore-arm of a woman who had died in giving birth to her first child; but the arm had to be stolen. with it they beat the ground before they entered the house which they designed to plunder; this caused every one in the house to lose all power of speech and motion; they were as dead, hearing and seeing everything, but perfectly powerless; some of them, however, really slept and even snored. in europe similar properties were ascribed to the hand of glory, which was the dried and pickled hand of a man who had been hanged. if a candle made of the fat of a malefactor who had also died on the gallows was lighted and placed in the hand of glory as in a candlestick, it rendered motionless all persons to whom it was presented; they could not stir a finger any more than if they were dead. sometimes the dead man's hand is itself the candle, or rather bunch of candles, all its withered fingers being set on fire; but should any member of the household be awake, one of the fingers will not kindle. such nefarious lights can only be extinguished with milk. often it is prescribed that the thief's candle should be made of the finger of a new-born or, still better, unborn child; sometimes it is thought needful that the thief should have one such candle for every person in the house, for if he has one candle too little somebody in the house will wake and catch him. once these tapers begin to burn, there is nothing but milk that will put them out. in the seventeenth century robbers used to murder pregnant women in order thus to extract candles from their wombs. an ancient greek robber or burglar thought he could silence and put to flight the fiercest watchdogs by carrying with him a brand plucked from a funeral pyre. again, servian and bulgarian women who chafe at the restraints of domestic life will take the copper coins from the eyes of a corpse, wash them in wine or water, and give the liquid to their husbands to drink. after swallowing it, the husband will be as blind to his wife's peccadilloes as the dead man was on whose eyes the coins were laid. further, animals are often conceived to possess qualities of properties which might be useful to man, and homoeopathic or imitative magic seeks to communicate these properties to human beings in various ways. thus some bechuanas wear a ferret as a charm, because, being very tenacious of life, it will make them difficult to kill. others wear a certain insect, mutilated, but living, for a similar purpose. yet other bechuana warriors wear the hair of a hornless ox among their own hair, and the skin of a frog on their mantle, because a frog is slippery, and the ox, having no horns, is hard to catch; so the man who is provided with these charms believes that he will be as hard to hold as the ox and the frog. again, it seems plain that a south african warrior who twists tufts of rat's hair among his own curly black locks will have just as many chances of avoiding the enemy's spear as the nimble rat has of avoiding things thrown at it; hence in these regions rats' hair is in great demand when war is expected. one of the ancient books of india prescribes that when a sacrifice is offered for victory, the earth out of which the altar is to be made should be taken from a place where a boar has been wallowing, since the strength of the boar will be in that earth. when you are playing the one-stringed lute, and your fingers are stiff, the thing to do is to catch some long-legged field spiders and roast them, and then rub your fingers with the ashes; that will make your fingers as lithe and nimble as the spiders' legs--at least so think the galelareese. to bring back a runaway slave an arab will trace a magic circle on the ground, stick a nail in the middle of it, and attach a beetle by a thread to the nail, taking care that the sex of the beetle is that of the fugitive. as the beetle crawls round and round, it will coil the thread about the nail, thus shortening its tether and drawing nearer to the centre at every circuit. so by virtue of homoeopathic magic the runaway slave will be drawn back to his master. among the western tribes of british new guinea, a man who has killed a snake will burn it and smear his legs with the ashes when he goes into the forest; for no snake will bite him for some days afterwards. if a south slavonian has a mind to pilfer and steal at market, he has nothing to do but to burn a blind cat, and then throw a pinch of its ashes over the person with whom he is higgling; after that he can take what he likes from the booth, and the owner will not be a bit the wiser, having become as blind as the deceased cat with whose ashes he has been sprinkled. the thief may even ask boldly, "did i pay for it?" and the deluded huckster will reply, "why, certainly." equally simple and effectual is the expedient adopted by natives of central australia who desire to cultivate their beards. they prick the chin all over with a pointed bone, and then stroke it carefully with a magic stick or stone, which represents a kind of rat that has very long whiskers. the virtue of these whiskers naturally passes into the representative stick or stone, and thence by an easy transition to the chin, which, consequently, is soon adorned with a rich growth of beard. the ancient greeks thought that to eat the flesh of the wakeful nightingale would prevent a man from sleeping; that to smear the eyes of a blear-sighted person with the gall of an eagle would give him the eagle's vision; and that a raven's eggs would restore the blackness of the raven to silvery hair. only the person who adopted this last mode of concealing the ravages of time had to be most careful to keep his mouth full of oil all the time he applied the eggs to his venerable locks, else his teeth as well as his hair would be dyed raven black, and no amount of scrubbing and scouring would avail to whiten them again. the hair-restorer was in fact a shade too powerful, and in applying it you might get more than you bargained for. the huichol indians admire the beautiful markings on the backs of serpents. hence when a huichol woman is about to weave or embroider, her husband catches a large serpent and holds it in a cleft stick, while the woman strokes the reptile with one hand down the whole length of its back; then she passes the same hand over her forehead and eyes, that she may be able to work as beautiful patterns in the web as the markings on the back of the serpent. on the principle of homoeopathic magic, inanimate things, as well as plants and animals, may diffuse blessing or bane around them, according to their own intrinsic nature and the skill of the wizard to tap or dam, as the case may be, the stream of weal or woe. in samaracand women give a baby sugar candy to suck and put glue in the palm of its hand, in order that, when the child grows up, his words may be sweet and precious things may stick to his hands as if they were glued. the greeks thought that a garment made from the fleece of a sheep that had been torn by a wolf would hurt the wearer, setting up an itch or irritation in his skin. they were also of opinion that if a stone which had been bitten by a dog were dropped in wine, it would make all who drank of that wine to fall out among themselves. among the arabs of moab a childless woman often borrows the robe of a woman who has had many children, hoping with the robe to acquire the fruitfulness of its owner. the caffres of sofala, in east africa, had a great dread of being struck with anything hollow, such as a reed or a straw, and greatly preferred being thrashed with a good thick cudgel or an iron bar, even though it hurt very much. for they thought that if a man were beaten with anything hollow, his inside would waste away till he died. in eastern seas there is a large shell which the buginese of celebes call the "old man" (_kadjâwo_). on fridays they turn these "old men" upside down and place them on the thresholds of their houses, believing that whoever then steps over the threshold of the house will live to be old. at initiation a brahman boy is made to tread with his right foot on a stone, while the words are repeated, "tread on this stone; like a stone be firm"; and the same ceremony is performed, with the same words, by a brahman bride at her marriage. in madagascar a mode of counteracting the levity of fortune is to bury a stone at the foot of the heavy house-post. the common custom of swearing upon a stone may be based partly on a belief that the strength and stability of the stone lend confirmation to an oath. thus the old danish historian saxo grammaticus tells us that "the ancients, when they were to choose a king, were wont to stand on stones planted in the ground, and to proclaim their votes, in order to foreshadow from the steadfastness of the stones that the deed would be lasting." but while a general magical efficacy may be supposed to reside in all stones by reason of their common properties of weight and solidity, special magical virtues are attributed to particular stones, or kinds of stone, in accordance with their individual or specific qualities of shape and colour. for example, the indians of peru employed certain stones for the increase of maize, others for the increase of potatoes, and others again for the increase of cattle. the stones used to make maize grow were fashioned in the likeness of cobs of maize, and the stones destined to multiply cattle had the shape of sheep. in some parts of melanesia a like belief prevails that certain sacred stones are endowed with miraculous powers which correspond in their nature to the shape of the stone. thus a piece of water-worn coral on the beach often bears a surprising likeness to a bread-fruit. hence in the banks islands a man who finds such a coral will lay it at the root of one of his bread-fruit trees in the expectation that it will make the tree bear well. if the result answers his expectation, he will then, for a proper remuneration, take stones of less-marked character from other men and let them lie near his, in order to imbue them with the magic virtue which resides in it. similarly, a stone with little discs upon it is good to bring in money; and if a man found a large stone with a number of small ones under it, like a sow among her litter, he was sure that to offer money upon it would bring him pigs. in these and similar cases the melanesians ascribe the marvellous power, not to the stone itself, but to its indwelling spirit; and sometimes, as we have just seen, a man endeavours to propitiate the spirit by laying down offerings on the stone. but the conception of spirits that must be propitiated lies outside the sphere of magic, and within that of religion. where such a conception is found, as here, in conjunction with purely magical ideas and practices, the latter may generally be assumed to be the original stock on which the religious conception has been at some later time engrafted. for there are strong grounds for thinking that, in the evolution of thought, magic has preceded religion. but to this point we shall return presently. the ancients set great store on the magical qualities of precious stones; indeed it has been maintained, with great show of reason, that such stones were used as amulets long before they were worn as mere ornaments. thus the greeks gave the name of tree-agate to a stone which exhibits tree-like markings, and they thought that if two of these gems were tied to the horns or necks of oxen at the plough, the crop would be sure to be plentiful. again, they recognised a milkstone which produced an abundant supply of milk in women if only they drank it dissolved in honey-mead. milk-stones are used for the same purpose by greek women in crete and melos at the present day; in albania nursing mothers wear the stones in order to ensure an abundant flow of milk. again, the greeks believed in a stone which cured snake-bites, and hence was named the snake-stone; to test its efficacy you had only to grind the stone to powder and sprinkle the powder on the wound. the wine-coloured amethyst received its name, which means "not drunken," because it was supposed to keep the wearer of it sober; and two brothers who desired to live at unity were advised to carry magnets about with them, which, by drawing the twain together, would clearly prevent them from falling out. the ancient books of the hindoos lay down a rule that after sunset on his marriage night a man should sit silent with his wife till the stars begin to twinkle in the sky. when the pole-star appears, he should point it out to her, and, addressing the star, say, "firm art thou; i see thee, the firm one. firm be thou with me, o thriving one!" then, turning to his wife, he should say, "to me brihaspati has given thee; obtaining offspring through me, thy husband, live with me a hundred autumns." the intention of the ceremony is plainly to guard against the fickleness of fortune and the instability of earthly bliss by the steadfast influence of the constant star. it is the wish expressed in keats's last sonnet: bright star! would i were steadfast as thou art-- not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. dwellers by the sea cannot fail to be impressed by the sight of its ceaseless ebb and flow, and are apt, on the principles of that rude philosophy of sympathy and resemblance which here engages our attention, to trace a subtle relation, a secret harmony, between its tides and the life of man, of animals, and of plants. in the flowing tide they see not merely a symbol, but a cause of exuberance, of prosperity, and of life, while in the ebbing tide they discern a real agent as well as a melancholy emblem of failure, of weakness, and of death. the breton peasant fancies that clover sown when the tide is coming in will grow well, but that if the plant be sown at low water or when the tide is going out, it will never reach maturity, and that the cows which feed on it will burst. his wife believes that the best butter is made when the tide has just turned and is beginning to flow, that milk which foams in the churn will go on foaming till the hour of high water is past, and that water drawn from the well or milk extracted from the cow while the tide is rising will boil up in the pot or saucepan and overflow into the fire. according to some of the ancients, the skins of seals, even after they had been parted from their bodies, remained in secret sympathy with the sea, and were observed to ruffle when the tide was on the ebb. another ancient belief, attributed to aristotle, was that no creature can die except at ebb tide. the belief, if we can trust pliny, was confirmed by experience, so far as regards human beings, on the coast of france. philostratus also assures us that at cadiz dying people never yielded up the ghost while the water was high. a like fancy still lingers in some parts of europe. on the cantabrian coast they think that persons who die of chronic or acute disease expire at the moment when the tide begins to recede. in portugal, all along the coast of wales, and on some parts of the coast of brittany, a belief is said to prevail that people are born when the tide comes in, and die when it goes out. dickens attests the existence of the same superstition in england. "people can't die, along the coast," said mr. pegotty, "except when the tide's pretty nigh out. they can't be born, unless it's pretty nigh in--not properly born till flood." the belief that most deaths happen at ebb tide is said to be held along the east coast of england from northumberland to kent. shakespeare must have been familiar with it, for he makes falstaff die "even just between twelve and one, e'en at the turning o' the tide." we meet the belief again on the pacific coast of north america among the haidas. whenever a good haida is about to die he sees a canoe manned by some of his dead friends, who come with the tide to bid him welcome to the spirit land. "come with us now," they say, "for the tide is about to ebb and we must depart." at port stephens, in new south wales, the natives always buried their dead at flood tide, never at ebb, lest the retiring water should bear the soul of the departed to some distant country. to ensure a long life the chinese have recourse to certain complicated charms, which concentrate in themselves the magical essence emanating, on homoeopathic principles, from times and seasons, from persons and from things. the vehicles employed to transmit these happy influences are no other than grave-clothes. these are provided by many chinese in their lifetime, and most people have them cut out and sewn by an unmarried girl or a very young woman, wisely calculating that, since such a person is likely to live a great many years to come, a part of her capacity to live long must surely pass into the clothes, and thus stave off for many years the time when they shall be put to their proper use. further, the garments are made by preference in a year which has an intercalary month; for to the chinese mind it seems plain that grave-clothes made in a year which is unusually long will possess the capacity of prolonging life in an unusually high degree. amongst the clothes there is one robe in particular on which special pains have been lavished to imbue it with this priceless quality. it is a long silken gown of the deepest blue colour, with the word "longevity" embroidered all over it in thread of gold. to present an aged parent with one of these costly and splendid mantles, known as "longevity garments," is esteemed by the chinese an act of filial piety and a delicate mark of attention. as the garment purports to prolong the life of its owner, he often wears it, especially on festive occasions, in order to allow the influence of longevity, created by the many golden letters with which it is bespangled, to work their full effect upon his person. on his birthday, above all, he hardly ever fails to don it, for in china common sense bids a man lay in a large stock of vital energy on his birthday, to be expended in the form of health and vigour during the rest of the year. attired in the gorgeous pall, and absorbing its blessed influence at every pore, the happy owner receives complacently the congratulations of friends and relations, who warmly express their admiration of these magnificent cerements, and of the filial piety which prompted the children to bestow so beautiful and useful a present on the author of their being. another application of the maxim that like produces like is seen in the chinese belief that the fortunes of a town are deeply affected by its shape, and that they must vary according to the character of the thing which that shape most nearly resembles. thus it is related that long ago the town of tsuen-cheu-fu, the outlines of which are like those of a carp, frequently fell a prey to the depredations of the neighbouring city of yung-chun, which is shaped like a fishing-net, until the inhabitants of the former town conceived the plan of erecting two tall pagodas in their midst. these pagodas, which still tower above the city of tsuen-cheu-fu, have ever since exercised the happiest influence over its destiny by intercepting the imaginary net before it could descend and entangle in its meshes the imaginary carp. some forty years ago the wise men of shanghai were much exercised to discover the cause of a local rebellion. on careful enquiry they ascertained that the rebellion was due to the shape of a large new temple which had most unfortunately been built in the shape of a tortoise, an animal of the very worst character. the difficulty was serious, the danger was pressing; for to pull down the temple would have been impious, and to let it stand as it was would be to court a succession of similar or worse disasters. however, the genius of the local professors of geomancy, rising to the occasion, triumphantly surmounted the difficulty and obviated the danger. by filling up two wells, which represented the eyes of the tortoise, they at once blinded that disreputable animal and rendered him incapable of doing further mischief. sometimes homoeopathic or imitative magic is called in to annul an evil omen by accomplishing it in mimicry. the effect is to circumvent destiny by substituting a mock calamity for a real one. in madagascar this mode of cheating the fates is reduced to a regular system. here every man's fortune is determined by the day or hour of his birth, and if that happens to be an unlucky one his fate is sealed, unless the mischief can be extracted, as the phrase goes, by means of a substitute. the ways of extracting the mischief are various. for example, if a man is born on the first day of the second month (february), his house will be burnt down when he comes of age. to take time by the forelock and avoid this catastrophe, the friends of the infant will set up a shed in a field or in the cattle-fold and burn it. if the ceremony is to be really effective, the child and his mother should be placed in the shed and only plucked, like brands, from the burning hut before it is too late. again, dripping november is the month of tears, and he who is born in it is born to sorrow. but in order to disperse the clouds that thus gather over his future, he has nothing to do but to take the lid off a boiling pot and wave it about. the drops that fall from it will accomplish his destiny and so prevent the tears from trickling from his eyes. again, if fate has decreed that a young girl, still unwed, should see her children, still unborn, descend before her with sorrow to the grave, she can avert the calamity as follows. she kills a grasshopper, wraps it in a rag to represent a shroud, and mourns over it like rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted. moreover, she takes a dozen or more other grasshoppers, and having removed some of their superfluous legs and wings she lays them about their dead and shrouded fellow. the buzz of the tortured insects and the agitated motions of their mutilated limbs represent the shrieks and contortions of the mourners at a funeral. after burying the deceased grasshopper she leaves the rest to continue their mourning till death releases them from their pain; and having bound up her dishevelled hair she retires from the grave with the step and carriage of a person plunged in grief. thenceforth she looks cheerfully forward to seeing her children survive her; for it cannot be that she should mourn and bury them twice over. once more, if fortune has frowned on a man at his birth and penury has marked him for her own, he can easily erase the mark in question by purchasing a couple of cheap pearls, price three halfpence, and burying them. for who but the rich of this world can thus afford to fling pearls away? . contagious magic thus far we have been considering chiefly that branch of sympathetic magic which may be called homoeopathic or imitative. its leading principle, as we have seen, is that like produces like, or, in other words, that an effect resembles its cause. the other great branch of sympathetic magic, which i have called contagious magic, proceeds upon the notion that things which have once been conjoined must remain ever afterwards, even when quite dissevered from each other, in such a sympathetic relation that whatever is done to the one must similarly affect the other. thus the logical basis of contagious magic, like that of homoeopathic magic, is a mistaken association of ideas; its physical basis, if we may speak of such a thing, like the physical basis of homoeopathic magic, is a material medium of some sort which, like the ether of modern physics, is assumed to unite distant objects and to convey impressions from one to the other. the most familiar example of contagious magic is the magical sympathy which is supposed to exist between a man and any severed portion of his person, as his hair or nails; so that whoever gets possession of human hair or nails may work his will, at any distance, upon the person from whom they were cut. this superstition is world-wide; instances of it in regard to hair and nails will be noticed later on in this work. among the australian tribes it was a common practice to knock out one or more of a boy's front teeth at those ceremonies of initiation to which every male member had to submit before he could enjoy the rights and privileges of a full-grown man. the reason of the practice is obscure; all that concerns us here is the belief that a sympathetic relation continued to exist between the lad and his teeth after the latter had been extracted from his gums. thus among some of the tribes about the river darling, in new south wales, the extracted tooth was placed under the bark of a tree near a river or water-hole; if the bark grew over the tooth, or if the tooth fell into the water, all was well; but if it were exposed and the ants ran over it, the natives believed that the boy would suffer from a disease of the mouth. among the murring and other tribes of new south wales the extracted tooth was at first taken care of by an old man, and then passed from one headman to another, until it had gone all round the community, when it came back to the lad's father, and finally to the lad himself. but however it was thus conveyed from hand to hand, it might on no account be placed in a bag containing magical substances, for to do so would, they believed, put the owner of the tooth in great danger. the late dr. howitt once acted as custodian of the teeth which had been extracted from some novices at a ceremony of initiation, and the old men earnestly besought him not to carry them in a bag in which they knew that he had some quartz crystals. they declared that if he did so the magic of the crystals would pass into the teeth, and so injure the boys. nearly a year after dr. howitt's return from the ceremony he was visited by one of the principal men of the murring tribe, who had travelled some two hundred and fifty miles from his home to fetch back the teeth. this man explained that he had been sent for them because one of the boys had fallen into ill health, and it was believed that the teeth had received some injury which had affected him. he was assured that the teeth had been kept in a box apart from any substances, like quartz crystals, which could influence them; and he returned home bearing the teeth with him carefully wrapt up and concealed. the basutos are careful to conceal their extracted teeth, lest these should fall into the hands of certain mythical beings who haunt graves, and who could harm the owner of the tooth by working magic on it. in sussex some fifty years ago a maid-servant remonstrated strongly against the throwing away of children's cast teeth, affirming that should they be found and gnawed by any animal, the child's new tooth would be, for all the world, like the teeth of the animal that had bitten the old one. in proof of this she named old master simmons, who had a very large pig's tooth in his upper jaw, a personal defect that he always averred was caused by his mother, who threw away one of his cast teeth by accident into the hog's trough. a similar belief has led to practices intended, on the principles of homoeopathic magic, to replace old teeth by new and better ones. thus in many parts of the world it is customary to put extracted teeth in some place where they will be found by a mouse or a rat, in the hope that, through the sympathy which continues to subsist between them and their former owner, his other teeth may acquire the same firmness and excellence as the teeth of these rodents. for example, in germany it is said to be an almost universal maxim among the people that when you have had a tooth taken out you should insert it in a mouse's hole. to do so with a child's milk-tooth which has fallen out will prevent the child from having toothache. or you should go behind the stove and throw your tooth backwards over your head, saying "mouse, give me your iron tooth; i will give you my bone tooth." after that your other teeth will remain good. far away from europe, at raratonga, in the pacific, when a child's tooth was extracted, the following prayer used to be recited: "big rat! little rat! here is my old tooth. pray give me a new one." then the tooth was thrown on the thatch of the house, because rats make their nests in the decayed thatch. the reason assigned for invoking the rats on these occasions was that rats' teeth were the strongest known to the natives. other parts which are commonly believed to remain in a sympathetic union with the body, after the physical connexion has been severed, are the navel-string and the afterbirth, including the placenta. so intimate, indeed, is the union conceived to be, that the fortunes of the individual for good or evil throughout life are often supposed to be bound up with one or other of these portions of his person, so that if his navel-string or afterbirth is preserved and properly treated, he will be prosperous; whereas if it be injured or lost, he will suffer accordingly. thus certain tribes of western australia believe that a man swims well or ill, according as his mother at his birth threw the navel-string into water or not. among the natives on the pennefather river in queensland it is believed that a part of the child's spirit (_cho-i_) stays in the afterbirth. hence the grandmother takes the afterbirth away and buries it in the sand. she marks the spot by a number of twigs which she sticks in the ground in a circle, tying their tops together so that the structure resembles a cone. when anjea, the being who causes conception in women by putting mud babies into their wombs, comes along and sees the place, he takes out the spirit and carries it away to one of his haunts, such as a tree, a hole in a rock, or a lagoon where it may remain for years. but sometime or other he will put the spirit again into a baby, and it will be born once more into the world. in ponape, one of the caroline islands, the navel-string is placed in a shell and then disposed of in such a way as shall best adapt the child for the career which the parents have chosen for him; for example, if they wish to make him a good climber, they will hang the navel-string on a tree. the kei islanders regard the navel-string as the brother or sister of the child, according to the sex of the infant. they put it in a pot with ashes, and set it in the branches of a tree, that it may keep a watchful eye on the fortunes of its comrade. among the bataks of sumatra, as among many other peoples of the indian archipelago, the placenta passes for the child's younger brother or sister, the sex being determined by the sex of the child, and it is buried under the house. according to the bataks it is bound up with the child's welfare, and seems, in fact, to be the seat of the transferable soul, of which we shall hear something later on. the karo bataks even affirm that of a man's two souls it is the true soul that lives with the placenta under the house; that is the soul, they say, which begets children. the baganda believe that every person is born with a double, and this double they identify with the afterbirth, which they regard as a second child. the mother buries the afterbirth at the root of a plantain tree, which then becomes sacred until the fruit has ripened, when it is plucked to furnish a sacred feast for the family. among the cherokees the navel-string of a girl is buried under a corn-mortar, in order that the girl may grow up to be a good baker; but the navel-string of a boy is hung up on a tree in the woods, in order that he may be a hunter. the incas of peru preserved the navel-string with the greatest care, and gave it to the child to suck whenever it fell ill. in ancient mexico they used to give a boy's navel-string to soldiers, to be buried by them on a field of battle, in order that the boy might thus acquire a passion for war. but the navel-string of a girl was buried beside the domestic hearth, because this was believed to inspire her with a love of home and taste for cooking and baking. even in europe many people still believe that a person's destiny is more or less bound up with that of his navel-string or afterbirth. thus in rhenish bavaria the navel-string is kept for a while wrapt up in a piece of old linen, and then cut or pricked to pieces according as the child is a boy or a girl, in order that he or she may grow up to be a skilful workman or a good sempstress. in berlin the midwife commonly delivers the dried navel-string to the father with a strict injunction to preserve it carefully, for so long as it is kept the child will live and thrive and be free from sickness. in beauce and perche the people are careful to throw the navel-string neither into water nor into fire, believing that if that were done the child would be drowned or burned. thus in many parts of the world the navel-string, or more commonly the afterbirth, is regarded as a living being, the brother or sister of the infant, or as the material object in which the guardian spirit of the child or part of its soul resides. further, the sympathetic connexion supposed to exist between a person and his afterbirth or navel-string comes out very clearly in the widespread custom of treating the afterbirth or navel-string in ways which are supposed to influence for life the character and career of the person, making him, if it is a man, a nimble climber, a strong swimmer, a skilful hunter, or a brave soldier, and making her, if it is a woman, a cunning sempstress, a good baker, and so forth. thus the beliefs and usages concerned with the afterbirth or placenta, and to a less extent with the navel-string, present a remarkable parallel to the widespread doctrine of the transferable or external soul and the customs founded on it. hence it is hardly rash to conjecture that the resemblance is no mere chance coincidence, but that in the afterbirth or placenta we have a physical basis (not necessarily the only one) for the theory and practice of the external soul. the consideration of that subject is reserved for a later part of this work. a curious application of the doctrine of contagious magic is the relation commonly believed to exist between a wounded man and the agent of the wound, so that whatever is subsequently done by or to the agent must correspondingly affect the patient either for good or evil. thus pliny tells us that if you have wounded a man and are sorry for it, you have only to spit on the hand that gave the wound, and the pain of the sufferer will be instantly alleviated. in melanesia, if a man's friends get possession of the arrow which wounded him, they keep it in a damp place or in cool leaves, for then the inflammation will be trifling and will soon subside. meantime the enemy who shot the arrow is hard at work to aggravate the wound by all the means in his power. for this purpose he and his friends drink hot and burning juices and chew irritating leaves, for this will clearly inflame and irritate the wound. further, they keep the bow near the fire to make the wound which it has inflicted hot; and for the same reason they put the arrow-head, if it has been recovered, into the fire. moreover, they are careful to keep the bow-string taut and to twang it occasionally, for this will cause the wounded man to suffer from tension of the nerves and spasms of tetanus. "it is constantly received and avouched," says bacon, "that the anointing of the weapon that maketh the wound will heal the wound itself. in this experiment, upon the relation of men of credit (though myself, as yet, am not fully inclined to believe it), you shall note the points following: first, the ointment wherewith this is done is made of divers ingredients, whereof the strangest and hardest to come by are the moss upon the skull of a dead man unburied, and the fats of a boar and a bear killed in the act of generation." the precious ointment compounded out of these and other ingredients was applied, as the philosopher explains, not to the wound but to the weapon, and that even though the injured man was at a great distance and knew nothing about it. the experiment, he tells us, had been tried of wiping the ointment off the weapon without the knowledge of the person hurt, with the result that he was presently in a great rage of pain until the weapon was anointed again. moreover, "it is affirmed that if you cannot get the weapon, yet if you put an instrument of iron or wood resembling the weapon into the wound, whereby it bleedeth, the anointing of that instrument will serve and work the effect." remedies of the sort which bacon deemed worthy of his attention are still in vogue in the eastern counties of england. thus in suffolk if a man cuts himself with a bill-hook or a scythe he always takes care to keep the weapon bright, and oils it to prevent the wound from festering. if he runs a thorn or, as he calls it, a bush into his hand, he oils or greases the extracted thorn. a man came to a doctor with an inflamed hand, having run a thorn into it while he was hedging. on being told that the hand was festering, he remarked, "that didn't ought to, for i greased the bush well after i pulled it out." if a horse wounds its foot by treading on a nail, a suffolk groom will invariably preserve the nail, clean it, and grease it every day, to prevent the foot from festering. similarly cambridgeshire labourers think that if a horse has run a nail into its foot, it is necessary to grease the nail with lard or oil and put it away in some safe place, or the horse will not recover. a few years ago a veterinary surgeon was sent for to attend a horse which had ripped its side open on the hinge of a farm gatepost. on arriving at the farm he found that nothing had been done for the wounded horse, but that a man was busy trying to pry the hinge out of the gatepost in order that it might be greased and put away, which, in the opinion of the cambridge wiseacres, would conduce to the recovery of the animal. similarly essex rustics opine that, if a man has been stabbed with a knife, it is essential to his recovery that the knife should be greased and laid across the bed on which the sufferer is lying. so in bavaria you are directed to anoint a linen rag with grease and tie it on the edge of the axe that cut you, taking care to keep the sharp edge upwards. as the grease on the axe dries, your wound heals. similarly in the harz mountains they say that if you cut yourself, you ought to smear the knife or the scissors with fat and put the instrument away in a dry place in the name of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost. as the knife dries, the wound heals. other people, however, in germany say that you should stick the knife in some damp place in the ground, and that your hurt will heal as the knife rusts. others again, in bavaria, recommend you to smear the axe or whatever it is with blood and put it under the eaves. the train of reasoning which thus commends itself to english and german rustics, in common with the savages of melanesia and america, is carried a step further by the aborigines of central australia, who conceive that under certain circumstances the near relations of a wounded man must grease themselves, restrict their diet, and regulate their behaviour in other ways in order to ensure his recovery. thus when a lad has been circumcised and the wound is not yet healed, his mother may not eat opossum, or a certain kind of lizard, or carpet snake, or any kind of fat, for otherwise she would retard the healing of the boy's wound. every day she greases her digging-sticks and never lets them out of her sight; at night she sleeps with them close to her head. no one is allowed to touch them. every day also she rubs her body all over with grease, as in some way this is believed to help her son's recovery. another refinement of the same principle is due to the ingenuity of the german peasant. it is said that when one of his pigs or sheep breaks its leg, a farmer of rhenish bavaria or hesse will bind up the leg of a chair with bandages and splints in due form. for some days thereafter no one may sit on that chair, move it, or knock up against it; for to do so would pain the injured pig or sheep and hinder the cure. in this last case it is clear that we have passed wholly out of the region of contagious magic and into the region of homoeopathic or imitative magic; the chair-leg, which is treated instead of the beast's leg, in no sense belongs to the animal, and the application of bandages to it is a mere simulation of the treatment which a more rational surgery would bestow on the real patient. the sympathetic connexion supposed to exist between a man and the weapon which has wounded him is probably founded on the notion that the blood on the weapon continues to feel with the blood in his body. for a like reason the papuans of tumleo, an island off new guinea, are careful to throw into the sea the bloody bandages with which their wounds have been dressed, for they fear that if these rags fell into the hands of an enemy he might injure them magically thereby. once when a man with a wound in his mouth, which bled constantly, came to the missionaries to be treated, his faithful wife took great pains to collect all the blood and cast it into the sea. strained and unnatural as this idea may seem to us, it is perhaps less so than the belief that magic sympathy is maintained between a person and his clothes, so that whatever is done to the clothes will be felt by the man himself, even though he may be far away at the time. in the wotjobaluk tribe of victoria a wizard would sometimes get hold of a man's opossum rug and roast it slowly in the fire, and as he did so the owner of the rug would fall sick. if the wizard consented to undo the charm, he would give the rug back to the sick man's friends, bidding them put it in water, "so as to wash the fire out." when that happened, the sufferer would feel a refreshing coolness and probably recover. in tanna, one of the new hebrides, a man who had a grudge at another and desired his death would try to get possession of a cloth which had touched the sweat of his enemy's body. if he succeeded, he rubbed the cloth carefully over with the leaves and twigs of a certain tree, rolled and bound cloth, twigs, and leaves into a long sausage-shaped bundle, and burned it slowly in the fire. as the bundle was consumed, the victim fell ill, and when it was reduced to ashes, he died. in this last form of enchantment, however, the magical sympathy may be supposed to exist not so much between the man and the cloth as between the man and the sweat which issued from his body. but in other cases of the same sort it seems that the garment by itself is enough to give the sorcerer a hold upon his victim. the witch in theocritus, while she melted an image or lump of wax in order that her faithless lover might melt with love of her, did not forget to throw into the fire a shred of his cloak which he had dropped in her house. in prussia they say that if you cannot catch a thief, the next best thing you can do is to get hold of a garment which he may have shed in his flight; for if you beat it soundly, the thief will fall sick. this belief is firmly rooted in the popular mind. some eighty or ninety years ago, in the neighbourhood of berend, a man was detected trying to steal honey, and fled, leaving his coat behind him. when he heard that the enraged owner of the honey was mauling his lost coat, he was so alarmed that he took to his bed and died. again, magic may be wrought on a man sympathetically, not only through his clothes and severed parts of himself, but also through the impressions left by his body in sand or earth. in particular, it is a world-wide superstition that by injuring footprints you injure the feet that made them. thus the natives of south-eastern australia think that they can lame a man by placing sharp pieces of quartz, glass, bone, or charcoal in his footprints. rheumatic pains are often attributed by them to this cause. seeing a tatungolung man very lame, mr. howitt asked him what was the matter. he said, "some fellow has put _bottle_ in my foot." he was suffering from rheumatism, but believed that an enemy had found his foot-track and had buried it in a piece of broken bottle, the magical influence of which had entered his foot. similar practices prevail in various parts of europe. thus in mecklenburg it is thought that if you drive a nail into a man's footprint he will fall lame; sometimes it is required that the nail should be taken from a coffin. a like mode of injuring an enemy is resorted to in some parts of france. it is said that there was an old woman who used to frequent stow in suffolk, and she was a witch. if, while she walked, any one went after her and stuck a nail or a knife into her footprint in the dust, the dame could not stir a step till it was withdrawn. among the south slavs a girl will dig up the earth from the footprints of the man she loves and put it in a flower-pot. then she plants in the pot a marigold, a flower that is thought to be fadeless. and as its golden blossom grows and blooms and never fades, so shall her sweetheart's love grow and bloom, and never, never fade. thus the love-spell acts on the man through the earth he trod on. an old danish mode of concluding a treaty was based on the same idea of the sympathetic connexion between a man and his footprints: the covenanting parties sprinkled each other's footprints with their own blood, thus giving a pledge of fidelity. in ancient greece superstitions of the same sort seem to have been current, for it was thought that if a horse stepped on the track of a wolf he was seized with numbness; and a maxim ascribed to pythagoras forbade people to pierce a man's footprints with a nail or a knife. the same superstition is turned to account by hunters in many parts of the world for the purpose of running down the game. thus a german huntsman will stick a nail taken from a coffin into the fresh spoor of the quarry, believing that this will hinder the animal from escaping. the aborigines of victoria put hot embers in the tracks of the animals they were pursuing. hottentot hunters throw into the air a handful of sand taken from the footprints of the game, believing that this will bring the animal down. thompson indians used to lay charms on the tracks of wounded deer; after that they deemed it superfluous to pursue the animal any further that day, for being thus charmed it could not travel far and would soon die. similarly, ojebway indians placed "medicine" on the track of the first deer or bear they met with, supposing that this would soon bring the animal into sight, even if it were two or three days' journey off; for this charm had power to compress a journey of several days into a few hours. ewe hunters of west africa stab the footprints of game with a sharp-pointed stick in order to maim the quarry and allow them to come up with it. but though the footprint is the most obvious it is not the only impression made by the body through which magic may be wrought on a man. the aborigines of south-eastern australia believe that a man may be injured by burying sharp fragments of quartz, glass, and so forth in the mark made by his reclining body; the magical virtue of these sharp things enters his body and causes those acute pains which the ignorant european puts down to rheumatism. we can now understand why it was a maxim with the pythagoreans that in rising from bed you should smooth away the impression left by your body on the bed-clothes. the rule was simply an old precaution against magic, forming part of a whole code of superstitious maxims which antiquity fathered on pythagoras, though doubtless they were familiar to the barbarous forefathers of the greeks long before the time of that philosopher. . the magician's progress we have now concluded our examination of the general principles of sympathetic magic. the examples by which i have illustrated them have been drawn for the most part from what may be called private magic, that is from magical rites and incantations practised for the benefit or the injury of individuals. but in savage society there is commonly to be found in addition what we may call public magic, that is, sorcery practised for the benefit of the whole community. wherever ceremonies of this sort are observed for the common good, it is obvious that the magician ceases to be merely a private practitioner and becomes to some extent a public functionary. the development of such a class of functionaries is of great importance for the political as well as the religious evolution of society. for when the welfare of the tribe is supposed to depend on the performance of these magical rites, the magician rises into a position of much influence and repute, and may readily acquire the rank and authority of a chief or king. the profession accordingly draws into its ranks some of the ablest and most ambitious men of the tribe, because it holds out to them a prospect of honour, wealth, and power such as hardly any other career could offer. the acuter minds perceive how easy it is to dupe their weaker brother and to play on his superstition for their own advantage. not that the sorcerer is always a knave and impostor; he is often sincerely convinced that he really possesses those wonderful powers which the credulity of his fellows ascribes to him. but the more sagacious he is, the more likely he is to see through the fallacies which impose on duller wits. thus the ablest members of the profession must tend to be more or less conscious deceivers; and it is just these men who in virtue of their superior ability will generally come to the top and win for themselves positions of the highest dignity and the most commanding authority. the pitfalls which beset the path of the professional sorcerer are many, and as a rule only the man of coolest head and sharpest wit will be able to steer his way through them safely. for it must always be remembered that every single profession and claim put forward by the magician as such is false; not one of them can be maintained without deception, conscious or unconscious. accordingly the sorcerer who sincerely believes in his own extravagant pretensions is in far greater peril and is much more likely to be cut short in his career than the deliberate impostor. the honest wizard always expects that his charms and incantations will produce their supposed effect; and when they fail, not only really, as they always do, but conspicuously and disastrously, as they often do, he is taken aback: he is not, like his knavish colleague, ready with a plausible excuse to account for the failure, and before he can find one he may be knocked on the head by his disappointed and angry employers. the general result is that at this stage of social evolution the supreme power tends to fall into the hands of men of the keenest intelligence and the most unscrupulous character. if we could balance the harm they do by their knavery against the benefits they confer by their superior sagacity, it might well be found that the good greatly outweighed the evil. for more mischief has probably been wrought in the world by honest fools in high places than by intelligent rascals. once your shrewd rogue has attained the height of his ambition, and has no longer any selfish end to further, he may, and often does, turn his talents, his experience, his resources, to the service of the public. many men who have been least scrupulous in the acquisition of power have been most beneficent in the use of it, whether the power they aimed at and won was that of wealth, political authority, or what not. in the field of politics the wily intriguer, the ruthless victor, may end by being a wise and magnanimous ruler, blessed in his lifetime, lamented at his death, admired and applauded by posterity. such men, to take two of the most conspicuous instances, were julius caesar and augustus. but once a fool always a fool, and the greater the power in his hands the more disastrous is likely to be the use he makes of it. the heaviest calamity in english history, the breach with america, might never have occurred if george the third had not been an honest dullard. thus, so far as the public profession of magic affected the constitution of savage society, it tended to place the control of affairs in the hands of the ablest man: it shifted the balance of power from the many to the one: it substituted a monarchy for a democracy, or rather for an oligarchy of old men; for in general the savage community is ruled, not by the whole body of adult males, but by a council of elders. the change, by whatever causes produced, and whatever the character of the early rulers, was on the whole very beneficial. for the rise of monarchy appears to be an essential condition of the emergence of mankind from savagery. no human being is so hide-bound by custom and tradition as your democratic savage; in no state of society consequently is progress so slow and difficult. the old notion that the savage is the freest of mankind is the reverse of the truth. he is a slave, not indeed to a visible master, but to the past, to the spirits of his dead forefathers, who haunt his steps from birth to death, and rule him with a rod of iron. what they did is the pattern of right, the unwritten law to which he yields a blind unquestioning obedience. the least possible scope is thus afforded to superior talent to change old customs for the better. the ablest man is dragged down by the weakest and dullest, who necessarily sets the standard, since he cannot rise, while the other can fall. the surface of such a society presents a uniform dead level, so far as it is humanly possible to reduce the natural inequalities, the immeasurable real differences of inborn capacity and temper, to a false superficial appearance of equality. from this low and stagnant condition of affairs, which demagogues and dreamers in later times have lauded as the ideal state, the golden age, of humanity, everything that helps to raise society by opening a career to talent and proportioning the degrees of authority to men's natural abilities, deserves to be welcomed by all who have the real good of their fellows at heart. once these elevating influences have begun to operate--and they cannot be for ever suppressed--the progress of civilisation becomes comparatively rapid. the rise of one man to supreme power enables him to carry through changes in a single lifetime which previously many generations might not have sufficed to effect; and if, as will often happen, he is a man of intellect and energy above the common, he will readily avail himself of the opportunity. even the whims and caprices of a tyrant may be of service in breaking the chain of custom which lies so heavy on the savage. and as soon as the tribe ceases to be swayed by the timid and divided counsels of the elders, and yields to the direction of a single strong and resolute mind, it becomes formidable to its neighbours and enters on a career of aggrandisement, which at an early stage of history is often highly favourable to social, industrial, and intellectual progress. for extending its sway, partly by force of arms, partly by the voluntary submission of weaker tribes, the community soon acquires wealth and slaves, both of which, by relieving some classes from the perpetual struggle for a bare subsistence, afford them an opportunity of devoting themselves to that disinterested pursuit of knowledge which is the noblest and most powerful instrument to ameliorate the lot of man. intellectual progress, which reveals itself in the growth of art and science and the spread of more liberal views, cannot be dissociated from industrial or economic progress, and that in its turn receives an immense impulse from conquest and empire. it is no mere accident that the most vehement outbursts of activity of the human mind have followed close on the heels of victory, and that the great conquering races of the world have commonly done most to advance and spread civilisation, thus healing in peace the wounds they inflicted in war. the babylonians, the greeks, the romans, the arabs are our witnesses in the past: we may yet live to see a similar outburst in japan. nor, to remount the stream of history to its sources, is it an accident that all the first great strides towards civilisation have been made under despotic and theocratic governments, like those of egypt, babylon, and peru, where the supreme ruler claimed and received the servile allegiance of his subjects in the double character of a king and a god. it is hardly too much to say that at this early epoch despotism is the best friend of humanity and, paradoxical as it may sound, of liberty. for after all there is more liberty in the best sense--liberty to think our own thoughts and to fashion our own destinies--under the most absolute despotism, the most grinding tyranny, than under the apparent freedom of savage life, where the individual's lot is cast from the cradle to the grave in the iron mould of hereditary custom. so far, therefore, as the public profession of magic has been one of the roads by which the ablest men have passed to supreme power, it has contributed to emancipate mankind from the thraldom of tradition and to elevate them into a larger, freer life, with a broader outlook on the world. this is no small service rendered to humanity. and when we remember further that in another direction magic has paved the way for science, we are forced to admit that if the black art has done much evil, it has also been the source of much good; that if it is the child of error, it has yet been the mother of freedom and truth. iv. magic and religion the examples collected in the last chapter may suffice to illustrate the general principles of sympathetic magic in its two branches, to which we have given the names of homoeopathic and contagious respectively. in some cases of magic which have come before us we have seen that the operation of spirits is assumed, and that an attempt is made to win their favour by prayer and sacrifice. but these cases are on the whole exceptional; they exhibit magic tinged and alloyed with religion. wherever sympathetic magic occurs in its pure unadulterated form, it assumes that in nature one event follows another necessarily and invariably without the intervention of any spiritual or personal agency. thus its fundamental conception is identical with that of modern science; underlying the whole system is a faith, implicit but real and firm, in the order and uniformity of nature. the magician does not doubt that the same causes will always produce the same effects, that the performance of the proper ceremony, accompanied by the appropriate spell, will inevitably be attended by the desired result, unless, indeed, his incantations should chance to be thwarted and foiled by the more potent charms of another sorcerer. he supplicates no higher power: he sues the favour of no fickle and wayward being: he abases himself before no awful deity. yet his power, great as he believes it to be, is by no means arbitrary and unlimited. he can wield it only so long as he strictly conforms to the rules of his art, or to what may be called the laws of nature as conceived by him. to neglect these rules, to break these laws in the smallest particular, is to incur failure, and may even expose the unskilful practitioner himself to the utmost peril. if he claims a sovereignty over nature, it is a constitutional sovereignty rigorously limited in its scope and exercised in exact conformity with ancient usage. thus the analogy between the magical and the scientific conceptions of the world is close. in both of them the succession of events is assumed to be perfectly regular and certain, being determined by immutable laws, the operation of which can be foreseen and calculated precisely; the elements of caprice, of chance, and of accident are banished from the course of nature. both of them open up a seemingly boundless vista of possibilities to him who knows the causes of things and can touch the secret springs that set in motion the vast and intricate mechanism of the world. hence the strong attraction which magic and science alike have exercised on the human mind; hence the powerful stimulus that both have given to the pursuit of knowledge. they lure the weary enquirer, the footsore seeker, on through the wilderness of disappointment in the present by their endless promises of the future: they take him up to the top of an exceeding high mountain and show him, beyond the dark clouds and rolling mists at his feet, a vision of the celestial city, far off, it may be, but radiant with unearthly splendour, bathed in the light of dreams. the fatal flaw of magic lies not in its general assumption of a sequence of events determined by law, but in its total misconception of the nature of the particular laws which govern that sequence. if we analyse the various cases of sympathetic magic which have been passed in review in the preceding pages, and which may be taken as fair samples of the bulk, we shall find, as i have already indicated, that they are all mistaken applications of one or other of two great fundamental laws of thought, namely, the association of ideas by similarity and the association of ideas by contiguity in space or time. a mistaken association of similar ideas produces homoeopathic or imitative magic: a mistaken association of contiguous ideas produces contagious magic. the principles of association are excellent in themselves, and indeed absolutely essential to the working of the human mind. legitimately applied they yield science; illegitimately applied they yield magic, the bastard sister of science. it is therefore a truism, almost a tautology, to say that all magic is necessarily false and barren; for were it ever to become true and fruitful, it would no longer be magic but science. from the earliest times man has been engaged in a search for general rules whereby to turn the order of natural phenomena to his own advantage, and in the long search he has scraped together a great hoard of such maxims, some of them golden and some of them mere dross. the true or golden rules constitute the body of applied science which we call the arts; the false are magic. if magic is thus next of kin to science, we have still to enquire how it stands related to religion. but the view we take of that relation will necessarily be coloured by the idea which we have formed of the nature of religion itself; hence a writer may reasonably be expected to define his conception of religion before he proceeds to investigate its relation to magic. there is probably no subject in the world about which opinions differ so much as the nature of religion, and to frame a definition of it which would satisfy every one must obviously be impossible. all that a writer can do is, first, to say clearly what he means by religion, and afterwards to employ the word consistently in that sense throughout his work. by religion, then, i understand a propitiation or conciliation of powers superior to man which are believed to direct and control the course of nature and of human life. thus defined, religion consists of two elements, a theoretical and a practical, namely, a belief in powers higher than man and an attempt to propitiate or please them. of the two, belief clearly comes first, since we must believe in the existence of a divine being before we can attempt to please him. but unless the belief leads to a corresponding practice, it is not a religion but merely a theology; in the language of st. james, "faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone." in other words, no man is religious who does not govern his conduct in some measure by the fear or love of god. on the other hand, mere practice, divested of all religious belief, is also not religion. two men may behave in exactly the same way, and yet one of them may be religious and the other not. if the one acts from the love or fear of god, he is religious; if the other acts from the love or fear of man, he is moral or immoral according as his behaviour comports or conflicts with the general good. hence belief and practice or, in theological language, faith and works are equally essential to religion, which cannot exist without both of them. but it is not necessary that religious practice should always take the form of a ritual; that is, it need not consist in the offering of sacrifice, the recitation of prayers, and other outward ceremonies. its aim is to please the deity, and if the deity is one who delights in charity and mercy and purity more than in oblations of blood, the chanting of hymns, and the fumes of incense, his worshippers will best please him, not by prostrating themselves before him, by intoning his praises, and by filling his temples with costly gifts, but by being pure and merciful and charitable towards men, for in so doing they will imitate, so far as human infirmity allows, the perfections of the divine nature. it was this ethical side of religion which the hebrew prophets, inspired with a noble ideal of god's goodness and holiness, were never weary of inculcating. thus micah says: "he hath shewed thee, o man, what is good; and what doth the lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy god?" and at a later time much of the force by which christianity conquered the world was drawn from the same high conception of god's moral nature and the duty laid on men of conforming themselves to it. "pure religion and undefiled," says st. james, "before god and the father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." but if religion involves, first, a belief in superhuman beings who rule the world, and, second, an attempt to win their favour, it clearly assumes that the course of nature is to some extent elastic or variable, and that we can persuade or induce the mighty beings who control it to deflect, for our benefit, the current of events from the channel in which they would otherwise flow. now this implied elasticity or variability of nature is directly opposed to the principles of magic as well as of science, both of which assume that the processes of nature are rigid and invariable in their operation, and that they can as little be turned from their course by persuasion and entreaty as by threats and intimidation. the distinction between the two conflicting views of the universe turns on their answer to the crucial question, are the forces which govern the world conscious and personal, or unconscious and impersonal? religion, as a conciliation of the superhuman powers, assumes the former member of the alternative. for all conciliation implies that the being conciliated is a conscious or personal agent, that his conduct is in some measure uncertain, and that he can be prevailed upon to vary it in the desired direction by a judicious appeal to his interests, his appetites, or his emotions. conciliation is never employed towards things which are regarded as inanimate, nor towards persons whose behaviour in the particular circumstances is known to be determined with absolute certainty. thus in so far as religion assumes the world to be directed by conscious agents who may be turned from their purpose by persuasion, it stands in fundamental antagonism to magic as well as to science, both of which take for granted that the course of nature is determined, not by the passions or caprice of personal beings, but by the operation of immutable laws acting mechanically. in magic, indeed, the assumption is only implicit, but in science it is explicit. it is true that magic often deals with spirits, which are personal agents of the kind assumed by religion; but whenever it does so in its proper form, it treats them exactly in the same fashion as it treats inanimate agents, that is, it constrains or coerces instead of conciliating or propitiating them as religion would do. thus it assumes that all personal beings, whether human or divine, are in the last resort subject to those impersonal forces which control all things, but which nevertheless can be turned to account by any one who knows how to manipulate them by the appropriate ceremonies and spells. in ancient egypt, for example, the magicians claimed the power of compelling even the highest gods to do their bidding, and actually threatened them with destruction in case of disobedience. sometimes, without going quite so far as that, the wizard declared that he would scatter the bones of osiris or reveal his sacred legend, if the god proved contumacious. similarly in india at the present day the great hindoo trinity itself of brahma, vishnu, and siva is subject to the sorcerers, who, by means of their spells, exercise such an ascendency over the mightiest deities, that these are bound submissively to execute on earth below, or in heaven above, whatever commands their masters the magicians may please to issue. there is a saying everywhere current in india: "the whole universe is subject to the gods; the gods are subject to the spells (_mantras_); the spells to the brahmans; therefore the brahmans are our gods." this radical conflict of principle between magic and religion sufficiently explains the relentless hostility with which in history the priest has often pursued the magician. the haughty self-sufficiency of the magician, his arrogant demeanour towards the higher powers, and his unabashed claim to exercise a sway like theirs could not but revolt the priest, to whom, with his awful sense of the divine majesty, and his humble prostration in presence of it, such claims and such a demeanour must have appeared an impious and blasphemous usurpation of prerogatives that belong to god alone. and sometimes, we may suspect, lower motives concurred to whet the edge of the priest's hostility. he professed to be the proper medium, the true intercessor between god and man, and no doubt his interests as well as his feelings were often injured by a rival practitioner, who preached a surer and smoother road to fortune than the rugged and slippery path of divine favour. yet this antagonism, familiar as it is to us, seems to have made its appearance comparatively late in the history of religion. at an earlier stage the functions of priest and sorcerer were often combined or, to speak perhaps more correctly, were not yet differentiated from each other. to serve his purpose man wooed the good-will of gods or spirits by prayer and sacrifice, while at the same time he had recourse to ceremonies and forms of words which he hoped would of themselves bring about the desired result without the help of god or devil. in short, he performed religious and magical rites simultaneously; he uttered prayers and incantations almost in the same breath, knowing or recking little of the theoretical inconsistency of his behaviour, so long as by hook or crook he contrived to get what he wanted. instances of this fusion or confusion of magic with religion have already met us in the practices of melanesians and of other peoples. the same confusion of magic and religion has survived among peoples that have risen to higher levels of culture. it was rife in ancient india and ancient egypt; it is by no means extinct among european peasantry at the present day. with regard to ancient india we are told by an eminent sanscrit scholar that "the sacrificial ritual at the earliest period of which we have detailed information is pervaded with practices that breathe the spirit of the most primitive magic." speaking of the importance of magic in the east, and especially in egypt, professor maspero remarks that "we ought not to attach to the word magic the degrading idea which it almost inevitably calls up in the mind of a modern. ancient magic was the very foundation of religion. the faithful who desired to obtain some favour from a god had no chance of succeeding except by laying hands on the deity, and this arrest could only be effected by means of a certain number of rites, sacrifices, prayers, and chants, which the god himself had revealed, and which obliged him to do what was demanded of him." among the ignorant classes of modern europe the same confusion of ideas, the same mixture of religion and magic, crops up in various forms. thus we are told that in france "the majority of the peasants still believe that the priest possesses a secret and irresistible power over the elements. by reciting certain prayers which he alone knows and has the right to utter, yet for the utterance of which he must afterwards demand absolution, he can, on an occasion of pressing danger, arrest or reverse for a moment the action of the eternal laws of the physical world. the winds, the storms, the hail, and the rain are at his command and obey his will. the fire also is subject to him, and the flames of a conflagration are extinguished at his word." for example, french peasants used to be, perhaps are still, persuaded that the priests could celebrate, with certain special rites, a mass of the holy spirit, of which the efficacy was so miraculous that it never met with any opposition from the divine will; god was forced to grant whatever was asked of him in this form, however rash and importunate might be the petition. no idea of impiety or irreverence attached to the rite in the minds of those who, in some of the great extremities of life, sought by this singular means to take the kingdom of heaven by storm. the secular priests generally refused to say the mass of the holy spirit; but the monks, especially the capuchin friars, had the reputation of yielding with less scruple to the entreaties of the anxious and distressed. in the constraint thus supposed by catholic peasantry to be laid by the priest upon the deity we seem to have an exact counterpart of the power which the ancient egyptians ascribed to their magicians. again, to take another example, in many villages of provence the priest is still reputed to possess the faculty of averting storms. it is not every priest who enjoys this reputation; and in some villages, when a change of pastors takes place, the parishioners are eager to learn whether the new incumbent has the power (_pouder_), as they call it. at the first sign of a heavy storm they put him to the proof by inviting him to exorcise the threatening clouds; and if the result answers to their hopes, the new shepherd is assured of the sympathy and respect of his flock. in some parishes, where the reputation of the curate in this respect stood higher than that of his rector, the relations between the two have been so strained in consequence that the bishop has had to translate the rector to another benefice. again, gascon peasants believe that to revenge themselves on their enemies bad men will sometimes induce a priest to say a mass called the mass of saint sécaire. very few priests know this mass, and three-fourths of those who do know it would not say it for love or money. none but wicked priests dare to perform the gruesome ceremony, and you may be quite sure that they will have a very heavy account to render for it at the last day. no curate or bishop, not even the archbishop of auch, can pardon them; that right belongs to the pope of rome alone. the mass of saint sécaire may be said only in a ruined or deserted church, where owls mope and hoot, where bats flit in the gloaming, where gypsies lodge of nights, and where toads squat under the desecrated altar. thither the bad priest comes by night with his light o' love, and at the first stroke of eleven he begins to mumble the mass backwards, and ends just as the clocks are knelling the midnight hour. his leman acts as clerk. the host he blesses is black and has three points; he consecrates no wine, but instead he drinks the water of a well into which the body of an unbaptized infant has been flung. he makes the sign of the cross, but it is on the ground and with his left foot. and many other things he does which no good christian could look upon without being struck blind and deaf and dumb for the rest of his life. but the man for whom the mass is said withers away little by little, and nobody can say what is the matter with him; even the doctors can make nothing of it. they do not know that he is slowly dying of the mass of saint sécaire. yet though magic is thus found to fuse and amalgamate with religion in many ages and in many lands, there are some grounds for thinking that this fusion is not primitive, and that there was a time when man trusted to magic alone for the satisfaction of such wants as transcended his immediate animal cravings. in the first place a consideration of the fundamental notions of magic and religion may incline us to surmise that magic is older than religion in the history of humanity. we have seen that on the one hand magic is nothing but a mistaken application of the very simplest and most elementary processes of the mind, namely the association of ideas by virtue of resemblance or contiguity; and that on the other hand religion assumes the operation of conscious or personal agents, superior to man, behind the visible screen of nature. obviously the conception of personal agents is more complex than a simple recognition of the similarity or contiguity of ideas; and a theory which assumes that the course of nature is determined by conscious agents is more abstruse and recondite, and requires for its apprehension a far higher degree of intelligence and reflection, than the view that things succeed each other simply by reason of their contiguity or resemblance. the very beasts associate the ideas of things that are like each other or that have been found together in their experience; and they could hardly survive for a day if they ceased to do so. but who attributes to the animals a belief that the phenomena of nature are worked by a multitude of invisible animals or by one enormous and prodigiously strong animal behind the scenes? it is probably no injustice to the brutes to assume that the honour of devising a theory of this latter sort must be reserved for human reason. thus, if magic be deduced immediately from elementary processes of reasoning, and be, in fact, an error into which the mind falls almost spontaneously, while religion rests on conceptions which the merely animal intelligence can hardly be supposed to have yet attained to, it becomes probable that magic arose before religion in the evolution of our race, and that man essayed to bend nature to his wishes by the sheer force of spells and enchantments before he strove to coax and mollify a coy, capricious, or irascible deity by the soft insinuation of prayer and sacrifice. the conclusion which we have thus reached deductively from a consideration of the fundamental ideas of magic and religion is confirmed inductively by the observation that among the aborigines of australia, the rudest savages as to whom we possess accurate information, magic is universally practised, whereas religion in the sense of a propitiation or conciliation of the higher powers seems to be nearly unknown. roughly speaking, all men in australia are magicians, but not one is a priest; everybody fancies he can influence his fellows or the course of nature by sympathetic magic, but nobody dreams of propitiating gods by prayer and sacrifice. but if in the most backward state of human society now known to us we find magic thus conspicuously present and religion conspicuously absent, may we not reasonably conjecture that the civilised races of the world have also at some period of their history passed through a similar intellectual phase, that they attempted to force the great powers of nature to do their pleasure before they thought of courting their favour by offerings and prayer--in short that, just as on the material side of human culture there has everywhere been an age of stone, so on the intellectual side there has everywhere been an age of magic? there are reasons for answering this question in the affirmative. when we survey the existing races of mankind from greenland to tierra del fuego, or from scotland to singapore, we observe that they are distinguished one from the other by a great variety of religions, and that these distinctions are not, so to speak, merely coterminous with the broad distinctions of race, but descend into the minuter subdivisions of states and commonwealths, nay, that they honeycomb the town, the village, and even the family, so that the surface of society all over the world is cracked and seamed, sapped and mined with rents and fissures and yawning crevasses opened up by the disintegrating influence of religious dissension. yet when we have penetrated through these differences, which affect mainly the intelligent and thoughtful part of the community, we shall find underlying them all a solid stratum of intellectual agreement among the dull, the weak, the ignorant, and the superstitious, who constitute, unfortunately, the vast majority of mankind. one of the great achievements of the nineteenth century was to run shafts down into this low mental stratum in many parts of the world, and thus to discover its substantial identity everywhere. it is beneath our feet--and not very far beneath them--here in europe at the present day, and it crops up on the surface in the heart of the australian wilderness and wherever the advent of a higher civilisation has not crushed it under ground. this universal faith, this truly catholic creed, is a belief in the efficacy of magic. while religious systems differ not only in different countries, but in the same country in different ages, the system of sympathetic magic remains everywhere and at all times substantially alike in its principles and practice. among the ignorant and superstitious classes of modern europe it is very much what it was thousands of years ago in egypt and india, and what it now is among the lowest savages surviving in the remotest corners of the world. if the test of truth lay in a show of hands or a counting of heads, the system of magic might appeal, with far more reason than the catholic church, to the proud motto, "_quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus,_" as the sure and certain credential of its own infallibility. it is not our business here to consider what bearing the permanent existence of such a solid layer of savagery beneath the surface of society, and unaffected by the superficial changes of religion and culture, has upon the future of humanity. the dispassionate observer, whose studies have led him to plumb its depths, can hardly regard it otherwise than as a standing menace to civilisation. we seem to move on a thin crust which may at any moment be rent by the subterranean forces slumbering below. from time to time a hollow murmur underground or a sudden spirt of flame into the air tells of what is going on beneath our feet. now and then the polite world is startled by a paragraph in a newspaper which tells how in scotland an image has been found stuck full of pins for the purpose of killing an obnoxious laird or minister, how a woman has been slowly roasted to death as a witch in ireland, or how a girl has been murdered and chopped up in russia to make those candles of human tallow by whose light thieves hope to pursue their midnight trade unseen. but whether the influences that make for further progress, or those that threaten to undo what has already been accomplished, will ultimately prevail; whether the impulsive energy of the minority or the dead weight of the majority of mankind will prove the stronger force to carry us up to higher heights or to sink us into lower depths, are questions rather for the sage, the moralist, and the statesman, whose eagle vision scans the future, than for the humble student of the present and the past. here we are only concerned to ask how far the uniformity, the universality, and the permanence of a belief in magic, compared with the endless variety and the shifting character of religious creeds, raises a presumption that the former represents a ruder and earlier phase of the human mind, through which all the races of mankind have passed or are passing on their way to religion and science. if an age of religion has thus everywhere, as i venture to surmise, been preceded by an age of magic, it is natural that we should enquire what causes have led mankind, or rather a portion of them, to abandon magic as a principle of faith and practice and to betake themselves to religion instead. when we reflect upon the multitude, the variety, and the complexity of the facts to be explained, and the scantiness of our information regarding them, we shall be ready to acknowledge that a full and satisfactory solution of so profound a problem is hardly to be hoped for, and that the most we can do in the present state of our knowledge is to hazard a more or less plausible conjecture. with all due diffidence, then, i would suggest that a tardy recognition of the inherent falsehood and barrenness of magic set the more thoughtful part of mankind to cast about for a truer theory of nature and a more fruitful method of turning her resources to account. the shrewder intelligences must in time have come to perceive that magical ceremonies and incantations did not really effect the results which they were designed to produce, and which the majority of their simpler fellows still believed that they did actually produce. this great discovery of the inefficacy of magic must have wrought a radical though probably slow revolution in the minds of those who had the sagacity to make it. the discovery amounted to this, that men for the first time recognised their inability to manipulate at pleasure certain natural forces which hitherto they had believed to be completely within their control. it was a confession of human ignorance and weakness. man saw that he had taken for causes what were no causes, and that all his efforts to work by means of these imaginary causes had been vain. his painful toil had been wasted, his curious ingenuity had been squandered to no purpose. he had been pulling at strings to which nothing was attached; he had been marching, as he thought, straight to the goal, while in reality he had only been treading in a narrow circle. not that the effects which he had striven so hard to produce did not continue to manifest themselves. they were still produced, but not by him. the rain still fell on the thirsty ground: the sun still pursued his daily, and the moon her nightly journey across the sky: the silent procession of the seasons still moved in light and shadow, in cloud and sunshine across the earth: men were still born to labour and sorrow, and still, after a brief sojourn here, were gathered to their fathers in the long home hereafter. all things indeed went on as before, yet all seemed different to him from whose eyes the old scales had fallen. for he could no longer cherish the pleasing illusion that it was he who guided the earth and the heaven in their courses, and that they would cease to perform their great revolutions were he to take his feeble hand from the wheel. in the death of his enemies and his friends he no longer saw a proof of the resistless potency of his own or of hostile enchantments; he now knew that friends and foes alike had succumbed to a force stronger than any that he could wield, and in obedience to a destiny which he was powerless to control. thus cut adrift from his ancient moorings and left to toss on a troubled sea of doubt and uncertainty, his old happy confidence in himself and his powers rudely shaken, our primitive philosopher must have been sadly perplexed and agitated till he came to rest, as in a quiet haven after a tempestuous voyage, in a new system of faith and practice, which seemed to offer a solution of his harassing doubts and a substitute, however precarious, for that sovereignty over nature which he had reluctantly abdicated. if the great world went on its way without the help of him or his fellows, it must surely be because there were other beings, like himself, but far stronger, who, unseen themselves, directed its course and brought about all the varied series of events which he had hitherto believed to be dependent on his own magic. it was they, as he now believed, and not he himself, who made the stormy wind to blow, the lightning to flash, and the thunder to roll; who had laid the foundations of the solid earth and set bounds to the restless sea that it might not pass; who caused all the glorious lights of heaven to shine; who gave the fowls of the air their meat and the wild beasts of the desert their prey; who bade the fruitful land to bring forth in abundance, the high hills to be clothed with forests, the bubbling springs to rise under the rocks in the valleys, and green pastures to grow by still waters; who breathed into man's nostrils and made him live, or turned him to destruction by famine and pestilence and war. to these mighty beings, whose handiwork he traced in all the gorgeous and varied pageantry of nature, man now addressed himself, humbly confessing his dependence on their invisible power, and beseeching them of their mercy to furnish him with all good things, to defend him from the perils and dangers by which our mortal life is compassed about on every hand, and finally to bring his immortal spirit, freed from the burden of the body, to some happier world, beyond the reach of pain and sorrow, where he might rest with them and with the spirits of good men in joy and felicity for ever. in this, or some such way as this, the deeper minds may be conceived to have made the great transition from magic to religion. but even in them the change can hardly ever have been sudden; probably it proceeded very slowly, and required long ages for its more or less perfect accomplishment. for the recognition of man's powerlessness to influence the course of nature on a grand scale must have been gradual; he cannot have been shorn of the whole of his fancied dominion at a blow. step by step he must have been driven back from his proud position; foot by foot he must have yielded, with a sigh, the ground which he had once viewed as his own. now it would be the wind, now the rain, now the sunshine, now the thunder, that he confessed himself unable to wield at will; and as province after province of nature thus fell from his grasp, till what had once seemed a kingdom threatened to shrink into a prison, man must have been more and more profoundly impressed with a sense of his own helplessness and the might of the invisible beings by whom he believed himself to be surrounded. thus religion, beginning as a slight and partial acknowledgment of powers superior to man, tends with the growth of knowledge to deepen into a confession of man's entire and absolute dependence on the divine; his old free bearing is exchanged for an attitude of lowliest prostration before the mysterious powers of the unseen, and his highest virtue is to submit his will to theirs: _in la sua volontade è nostra pace._ but this deepening sense of religion, this more perfect submission to the divine will in all things, affects only those higher intelligences who have breadth of view enough to comprehend the vastness of the universe and the littleness of man. small minds cannot grasp great ideas; to their narrow comprehension, their purblind vision, nothing seems really great and important but themselves. such minds hardly rise into religion at all. they are, indeed, drilled by their betters into an outward conformity with its precepts and a verbal profession of its tenets; but at heart they cling to their old magical superstitions, which may be discountenanced and forbidden, but cannot be eradicated by religion, so long as they have their roots deep down in the mental framework and constitution of the great majority of mankind. the reader may well be tempted to ask, how was it that intelligent men did not sooner detect the fallacy of magic? how could they continue to cherish expectations that were invariably doomed to disappointment? with what heart persist in playing venerable antics that led to nothing, and mumbling solemn balderdash that remained without effect? why cling to beliefs which were so flatly contradicted by experience? how dare to repeat experiments that had failed so often? the answer seems to be that the fallacy was far from easy to detect, the failure by no means obvious, since in many, perhaps in most cases, the desired event did actually follow, at a longer or shorter interval, the performance of the rite which was designed to bring it about; and a mind of more than common acuteness was needed to perceive that, even in these cases, the rite was not necessarily the cause of the event. a ceremony intended to make the wind blow or the rain fall, or to work the death of an enemy, will always be followed, sooner or later, by the occurrence it is meant to bring to pass; and primitive man may be excused for regarding the occurrence as a direct result of the ceremony, and the best possible proof of its efficacy. similarly, rites observed in the morning to help the sun to rise, and in spring to wake the dreaming earth from her winter sleep, will invariably appear to be crowned with success, at least within the temperate zones; for in these regions the sun lights his golden lamp in the east every morning, and year by year the vernal earth decks herself afresh with a rich mantle of green. hence the practical savage, with his conservative instincts, might well turn a deaf ear to the subtleties of the theoretical doubter, the philosophic radical, who presumed to hint that sunrise and spring might not, after all, be direct consequences of the punctual performance of certain daily or yearly ceremonies, and that the sun might perhaps continue to rise and trees to blossom though the ceremonies were occasionally intermitted, or even discontinued altogether. these sceptical doubts would naturally be repelled by the other with scorn and indignation as airy reveries subversive of the faith and manifestly contradicted by experience. "can anything be plainer," he might say, "than that i light my twopenny candle on earth and that the sun then kindles his great fire in heaven? i should be glad to know whether, when i have put on my green robe in spring, the trees do not afterwards do the same? these are facts patent to everybody, and on them i take my stand. i am a plain practical man, not one of your theorists and splitters of hairs and choppers of logic. theories and speculation and all that may be very well in their way, and i have not the least objection to your indulging in them, provided, of course, you do not put them in practice. but give me leave to stick to facts; then i know where i am." the fallacy of this reasoning is obvious to us, because it happens to deal with facts about which we have long made up our minds. but let an argument of precisely the same calibre be applied to matters which are still under debate, and it may be questioned whether a british audience would not applaud it as sound, and esteem the speaker who used it a safe man--not brilliant or showy, perhaps, but thoroughly sensible and hard-headed. if such reasonings could pass muster among ourselves, need we wonder that they long escaped detection by the savage? v. the magical control of the weather . the public magician the reader may remember that we were led to plunge into the labyrinth of magic by a consideration of two different types of man-god. this is the clue which has guided our devious steps through the maze, and brought us out at last on higher ground, whence, resting a little by the way, we can look back over the path we have already traversed and forward to the longer and steeper road we have still to climb. as a result of the foregoing discussion, the two types of human gods may conveniently be distinguished as the religious and the magical man-god respectively. in the former, a being of an order different from and superior to man is supposed to become incarnate, for a longer or a shorter time, in a human body, manifesting his super-human power and knowledge by miracles wrought and prophecies uttered through the medium of the fleshly tabernacle in which he has deigned to take up his abode. this may also appropriately be called the inspired or incarnate type of man-god. in it the human body is merely a frail earthly vessel filled with a divine and immortal spirit. on the other hand, a man-god of the magical sort is nothing but a man who possesses in an unusually high degree powers which most of his fellows arrogate to themselves on a smaller scale; for in rude society there is hardly a person who does not dabble in magic. thus, whereas a man-god of the former or inspired type derives his divinity from a deity who has stooped to hide his heavenly radiance behind a dull mask of earthly mould, a man-god of the latter type draws his extraordinary power from a certain physical sympathy with nature. he is not merely the receptacle of a divine spirit. his whole being, body and soul, is so delicately attuned to the harmony of the world that a touch of his hand or a turn of his head may send a thrill vibrating through the universal framework of things; and conversely his divine organism is acutely sensitive to such slight changes of environment as would leave ordinary mortals wholly unaffected. but the line between these two types of man-god, however sharply we may draw it in theory, is seldom to be traced with precision in practice, and in what follows i shall not insist on it. we have seen that in practice the magic art may be employed for the benefit either of individuals or of the whole community, and that according as it is directed to one or other of these two objects it may be called private or public magic. further, i pointed out that the public magician occupies a position of great influence, from which, if he is a prudent and able man, he may advance step by step to the rank of a chief or king. thus an examination of public magic conduces to an understanding of the early kingship, since in savage and barbarous society many chiefs and kings appear to owe their authority in great measure to their reputation as magicians. among the objects of public utility which magic may be employed to secure, the most essential is an adequate supply of food. the examples cited in preceding pages prove that the purveyors of food--the hunter, the fisher, the farmer--all resort to magical practices in the pursuit of their various callings; but they do so as private individuals for the benefit of themselves and their families, rather than as public functionaries acting in the interest of the whole people. it is otherwise when the rites are performed, not by the hunters, the fishers, the farmers themselves, but by professional magicians on their behalf. in primitive society, where uniformity of occupation is the rule, and the distribution of the community into various classes of workers has hardly begun, every man is more or less his own magician; he practises charms and incantations for his own good and the injury of his enemies. but a great step in advance has been taken when a special class of magicians has been instituted; when, in other words, a number of men have been set apart for the express purpose of benefiting the whole community by their skill, whether that skill be directed to the healing of diseases, the forecasting of the future, the regulation of the weather, or any other object of general utility. the impotence of the means adopted by most of these practitioners to accomplish their ends ought not to blind us to the immense importance of the institution itself. here is a body of men relieved, at least in the higher stages of savagery, from the need of earning their livelihood by hard manual toil, and allowed, nay, expected and encouraged, to prosecute researches into the secret ways of nature. it was at once their duty and their interest to know more than their fellows, to acquaint themselves with everything that could aid man in his arduous struggle with nature, everything that could mitigate his sufferings and prolong his life. the properties of drugs and minerals, the causes of rain and drought, of thunder and lightning, the changes of the seasons, the phases of the moon, the daily and yearly journeys of the sun, the motions of the stars, the mystery of life, and the mystery of death, all these things must have excited the wonder of these early philosophers, and stimulated them to find solutions of problems that were doubtless often thrust on their attention in the most practical form by the importunate demands of their clients, who expected them not merely to understand but to regulate the great processes of nature for the good of man. that their first shots fell very far wide of the mark could hardly be helped. the slow, the never-ending approach to truth consists in perpetually forming and testing hypotheses, accepting those which at the time seem to fit the facts and rejecting the others. the views of natural causation embraced by the savage magician no doubt appear to us manifestly false and absurd; yet in their day they were legitimate hypotheses, though they have not stood the test of experience. ridicule and blame are the just meed, not of those who devised these crude theories, but of those who obstinately adhered to them after better had been propounded. certainly no men ever had stronger incentives in the pursuit of truth than these savage sorcerers. to maintain at least a show of knowledge was absolutely necessary; a single mistake detected might cost them their life. this no doubt led them to practise imposture for the purpose of concealing their ignorance; but it also supplied them with the most powerful motive for substituting a real for a sham knowledge, since, if you would appear to know anything, by far the best way is actually to know it. thus, however justly we may reject the extravagant pretensions of magicians and condemn the deceptions which they have practised on mankind, the original institution of this class of men has, take it all in all, been productive of incalculable good to humanity. they were the direct predecessors, not merely of our physicians and surgeons, but of our investigators and discoverers in every branch of natural science. they began the work which has since been carried to such glorious and beneficent issues by their successors in after ages; and if the beginning was poor and feeble, this is to be imputed to the inevitable difficulties which beset the path of knowledge rather than to the natural incapacity or wilful fraud of the men themselves. . the magical control of rain of the things which the public magician sets himself to do for the good of the tribe, one of the chief is to control the weather and especially to ensure an adequate fall of rain. water is an essential of life, and in most countries the supply of it depends upon showers. without rain vegetation withers, animals and men languish and die. hence in savage communities the rain-maker is a very important personage; and often a special class of magicians exists for the purpose of regulating the heavenly water-supply. the methods by which they attempt to discharge the duties of their office are commonly, though not always, based on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic. if they wish to make rain they simulate it by sprinkling water or mimicking clouds: if their object is to stop rain and cause drought, they avoid water and resort to warmth and fire for the sake of drying up the too abundant moisture. such attempts are by no means confined, as the cultivated reader might imagine, to the naked inhabitants of those sultry lands like central australia and some parts of eastern and southern africa, where often for months together the pitiless sun beats down out of a blue and cloudless sky on the parched and gaping earth. they are, or used to be, common enough among outwardly civilised folk in the moister climate of europe. i will now illustrate them by instances drawn from the practice both of public and private magic. thus, for example, in a village near dorpat, in russia, when rain was much wanted, three men used to climb up the fir-trees of an old sacred grove. one of them drummed with a hammer on a kettle or small cask to imitate thunder; the second knocked two fire-brands together and made the sparks fly, to imitate lightning; and the third, who was called "the rain-maker," had a bunch of twigs with which he sprinkled water from a vessel on all sides. to put an end to drought and bring down rain, women and girls of the village of ploska are wont to go naked by night to the boundaries of the village and there pour water on the ground. in halmahera, or gilolo, a large island to the west of new guinea, a wizard makes rain by dipping a branch of a particular kind of tree in water and then scattering the moisture from the dripping bough over the ground. in new britain the rain-maker wraps some leaves of a red and green striped creeper in a banana-leaf, moistens the bundle with water, and buries it in the ground; then he imitates with his mouth the plashing of rain. amongst the omaha indians of north america, when the corn is withering for want of rain, the members of the sacred buffalo society fill a large vessel with water and dance four times round it. one of them drinks some of the water and spirts it into the air, making a fine spray in imitation of a mist or drizzling rain. then he upsets the vessel, spilling the water on the ground; whereupon the dancers fall down and drink up the water, getting mud all over their faces. lastly, they squirt the water into the air, making a fine mist. this saves the corn. in spring-time the natchez of north america used to club together to purchase favourable weather for their crops from the wizards. if rain was needed, the wizards fasted and danced with pipes full of water in their mouths. the pipes were perforated like the nozzle of a watering-can, and through the holes the rain-maker blew the water towards that part of the sky where the clouds hung heaviest. but if fine weather was wanted, he mounted the roof of his hut, and with extended arms, blowing with all his might, he beckoned to the clouds to pass by. when the rains do not come in due season the people of central angoniland repair to what is called the rain-temple. here they clear away the grass, and the leader pours beer into a pot which is buried in the ground, while he says, "master _chauta,_ you have hardened your heart towards us, what would you have us do? we must perish indeed. give your children the rains, there is the beer we have given you." then they all partake of the beer that is left over, even the children being made to sip it. next they take branches of trees and dance and sing for rain. when they return to the village they find a vessel of water set at the doorway by an old woman; so they dip their branches in it and wave them aloft, so as to scatter the drops. after that the rain is sure to come driving up in heavy clouds. in these practices we see a combination of religion with magic; for while the scattering of the water-drops by means of branches is a purely magical ceremony, the prayer for rain and the offering of beer are purely religious rites. in the mara tribe of northern australia the rain-maker goes to a pool and sings over it his magic song. then he takes some of the water in his hands, drinks it, and spits it out in various directions. after that he throws water all over himself, scatters it about, and returns quietly to the camp. rain is supposed to follow. the arab historian makrizi describes a method of stopping rain which is said to have been resorted to by a tribe of nomads called alqamar in hadramaut. they cut a branch from a certain tree in the desert, set it on fire, and then sprinkled the burning brand with water. after that the vehemence of the rain abated, just as the water vanished when it fell on the glowing brand. some of the eastern angamis of manipur are said to perform a some-what similar ceremony for the opposite purpose, in order, namely, to produce rain. the head of the village puts a burning brand on the grave of a man who has died of burns, and quenches the brand with water, while he prays that rain may fall. here the putting out the fire with water, which is an imitation of rain, is reinforced by the influence of the dead man, who, having been burnt to death, will naturally be anxious for the descent of rain to cool his scorched body and assuage his pangs. other people besides the arabs have used fire as a means of stopping rain. thus the sulka of new britain heat stones red hot in the fire and then put them out in the rain, or they throw hot ashes in the air. they think that the rain will soon cease to fall, for it does not like to be burned by the hot stones or ashes. the telugus send a little girl out naked into the rain with a burning piece of wood in her hand, which she has to show to the rain. that is supposed to stop the downpour. at port stevens in new south wales the medicine-men used to drive away rain by throwing fire-sticks into the air, while at the same time they puffed and shouted. any man of the anula tribe in northern australia can stop rain by simply warming a green stick in the fire, and then striking it against the wind. in time of severe drought the dieri of central australia, loudly lamenting the impoverished state of the country and their own half-starved condition, call upon the spirits of their remote predecessors, whom they call mura-muras, to grant them power to make a heavy rain-fall. for they believe that the clouds are bodies in which rain is generated by their own ceremonies or those of neighbouring tribes, through the influence of the mura-muras. the way in which they set about drawing rain from the clouds is this. a hole is dug about twelve feet long and eight or ten broad, and over this hole a conical hut of logs and branches is made. two wizards, supposed to have received a special inspiration from the mura-muras, are bled by an old and influential man with a sharp flint; and the blood, drawn from their arms below the elbow, is made to flow on the other men of the tribe, who sit huddled together in the hut. at the same time the two bleeding men throw handfuls of down about, some of which adheres to the blood-stained bodies of their comrades, while the rest floats in the air. the blood is thought to represent the rain, and the down the clouds. during the ceremony two large stones are placed in the middle of the hut; they stand for gathering clouds and presage rain. then the wizards who were bled carry away the two stones for about ten or fifteen miles, and place them as high as they can in the tallest tree. meanwhile the other men gather gypsum, pound it fine, and throw it into a water-hole. this the mura-muras see, and at once they cause clouds to appear in the sky. lastly, the men, young and old, surround the hut, and, stooping down, butt at it with their heads, like so many rams. thus they force their way through it and reappear on the other side, repeating the process till the hut is wrecked. in doing this they are forbidden to use their hands or arms; but when the heavy logs alone remain, they are allowed to pull them out with their hands. "the piercing of the hut with their heads symbolises the piercing of the clouds; the fall of the hut, the fall of the rain." obviously, too, the act of placing high up in trees the two stones, which stand for clouds, is a way of making the real clouds to mount up in the sky. the dieri also imagine that the foreskins taken from lads at circumcision have a great power of producing rain. hence the great council of the tribe always keeps a small stock of foreskins ready for use. they are carefully concealed, being wrapt up in feathers with the fat of the wild dog and of the carpet snake. a woman may not see such a parcel opened on any account. when the ceremony is over, the foreskin is buried, its virtue being exhausted. after the rains have fallen, some of the tribe always undergo a surgical operation, which consists in cutting the skin of their chest and arms with a sharp flint. the wound is then tapped with a flat stick to increase the flow of blood, and red ochre is rubbed into it. raised scars are thus produced. the reason alleged by the natives for this practice is that they are pleased with the rain, and that there is a connexion between the rain and the scars. apparently the operation is not very painful, for the patient laughs and jokes while it is going on. indeed, little children have been seen to crowd round the operator and patiently take their turn; then after being operated on, they ran away, expanding their little chests and singing for the rain to beat upon them. however, they were not so well pleased next day, when they felt their wounds stiff and sore. in java, when rain is wanted, two men will sometimes thrash each other with supple rods till the blood flows down their backs; the streaming blood represents the rain, and no doubt is supposed to make it fall on the ground. the people of egghiou, a district of abyssinia, used to engage in sanguinary conflicts with each other, village against village, for a week together every january for the purpose of procuring rain. some years ago the emperor menelik forbade the custom. however, the following year the rain was deficient, and the popular outcry so great that the emperor yielded to it, and allowed the murderous fights to be resumed, but for two days a year only. the writer who mentions the custom regards the blood shed on these occasions as a propitiatory sacrifice offered to spirits who control the showers; but perhaps, as in the australian and javanese ceremonies, it is an imitation of rain. the prophets of baal, who sought to procure rain by cutting themselves with knives till the blood gushed out, may have acted on the same principle. there is a widespread belief that twin children possess magical powers over nature, especially over rain and the weather. this curious superstition prevails among some of the indian tribes of british columbia, and has led them often to impose certain singular restrictions or taboos on the parents of twins, though the exact meaning of these restrictions is generally obscure. thus the tsimshian indians of british columbia believe that twins control the weather; therefore they pray to wind and rain, "calm down, breath of the twins." further, they think that the wishes of twins are always fulfilled; hence twins are feared, because they can harm the man they hate. they can also call the salmon and the olachen or candle-fish, and so they are known by a name which means "making plentiful." in the opinion of the kwakiutl indians of british columbia twins are transformed salmon; hence they may not go near water, lest they should be changed back again into the fish. in their childhood they can summon any wind by motions of their hands, and they can make fair or foul weather, and also cure diseases by swinging a large wooden rattle. the nootka indians of british columbia also believe that twins are somehow related to salmon. hence among them twins may not catch salmon, and they may not eat or even handle the fresh fish. they can make fair or foul weather, and can cause rain to fall by painting their faces black and then washing them, which may represent the rain dripping from the dark clouds. the shuswap indians, like the thompson indians, associate twins with the grizzly bear, for they call them "young grizzly bears." according to them, twins remain throughout life endowed with supernatural powers. in particular they can make good or bad weather. they produce rain by spilling water from a basket in the air; they make fine weather by shaking a small flat piece of wood attached to a stick by a string; they raise storms by strewing down on the ends of spruce branches. the same power of influencing the weather is attributed to twins by the baronga, a tribe of bantu negroes who, inhabit the shores of delagoa bay in south-eastern africa. they bestow the name of _tilo_--that is, the sky--on a woman who has given birth to twins, and the infants themselves are called the children of the sky. now when the storms which generally burst in the months of september and october have been looked for in vain, when a drought with its prospect of famine is threatening, and all nature, scorched and burnt up by a sun that has shone for six months from a cloudless sky, is panting for the beneficent showers of the south african spring, the women perform ceremonies to bring down the longed-for rain on the parched earth. stripping themselves of all their garments, they assume in their stead girdles and head-dresses of grass, or short petticoats made of the leaves of a particular sort of creeper. thus attired, uttering peculiar cries and singing ribald songs, they go about from well to well, cleansing them of the mud and impurities which have accumulated in them. the wells, it may be said, are merely holes in the sand where a little turbid unwholesome water stagnates. further, the women must repair to the house of one of their gossips who has given birth to twins, and must drench her with water, which they carry in little pitchers. having done so they go on their way, shrieking out their loose songs and dancing immodest dances. no man may see these leaf-clad women going their rounds. if they meet a man, they maul him and thrust him aside. when they have cleansed the wells, they must go and pour water on the graves of their ancestors in the sacred grove. it often happens, too, that at the bidding of the wizard they go and pour water on the graves of twins. for they think that the grave of a twin ought always to be moist, for which reason twins are regularly buried near a lake. if all their efforts to procure rain prove abortive, they will remember that such and such a twin was buried in a dry place on the side of a hill. "no wonder," says the wizard in such a case, "that the sky is fiery. take up his body and dig him a grave on the shore of the lake." his orders are at once obeyed, for this is supposed to be the only means of bringing down the rain. some of the foregoing facts strongly support an interpretation which professor oldenberg has given of the rules to be observed by a brahman who would learn a particular hymn of the ancient indian collection known as the samaveda. the hymn, which bears the name of the sakvari¯ song, was believed to embody the might of indra's weapon, the thunderbolt; and hence, on account of the dreadful and dangerous potency with which it was thus charged, the bold student who essayed to master it had to be isolated from his fellow-men, and to retire from the village into the forest. here for a space of time, which might vary, according to different doctors of the law, from one to twelve years, he had to observe certain rules of life, among which were the following. thrice a day he had to touch water; he must wear black garments and eat black food; when it rained, he might not seek the shelter of a roof, but had to sit in the rain and say, "water is the sakvari¯ song"; when the lightning flashed, he said, "that is like the sakvari¯ song"; when the thunder pealed, he said, "the great one is making a great noise." he might never cross a running stream without touching water; he might never set foot on a ship unless his life were in danger, and even then he must be sure to touch water when he went on board; "for in water," so ran the saying, "lies the virtue of the sakvari¯ song." when at last he was allowed to learn the song itself, he had to dip his hands in a vessel of water in which plants of all sorts had been placed. if a man walked in the way of all these precepts, the rain-god parjanya, it was said, would send rain at the wish of that man. it is clear, as professor oldenberg well points out, that "all these rules are intended to bring the brahman into union with water, to make him, as it were, an ally of the water powers, and to guard him against their hostility. the black garments and the black food have the same significance; no one will doubt that they refer to the rain-clouds when he remembers that a black victim is sacrificed to procure rain; 'it is black, for such is the nature of rain.' in respect of another rain-charm it is said plainly, 'he puts on a black garment edged with black, for such is the nature of rain.' we may therefore assume that here in the circle of ideas and ordinances of the vedic schools there have been preserved magical practices of the most remote antiquity, which were intended to prepare the rain-maker for his office and dedicate him to it." it is interesting to observe that where an opposite result is desired, primitive logic enjoins the weather-doctor to observe precisely opposite rules of conduct. in the tropical island of java, where the rich vegetation attests the abundance of the rainfall, ceremonies for the making of rain are rare, but ceremonies for the prevention of it are not uncommon. when a man is about to give a great feast in the rainy season and has invited many people, he goes to a weather-doctor and asks him to "prop up the clouds that may be lowering." if the doctor consents to exert his professional powers, he begins to regulate his behaviour by certain rules as soon as his customer has departed. he must observe a fast, and may neither drink nor bathe; what little he eats must be eaten dry, and in no case may he touch water. the host, on his side, and his servants, both male and female, must neither wash clothes nor bathe so long as the feast lasts, and they have all during its continuance to observe strict chastity. the doctor seats himself on a new mat in his bedroom, and before a small oil-lamp he murmurs, shortly before the feast takes place, the following prayer or incantation: "grandfather and grandmother sroekoel" (the name seems to be taken at random; others are sometimes used), "return to your country. akkemat is your country. put down your water-cask, close it properly, that not a drop may fall out." while he utters this prayer the sorcerer looks upwards, burning incense the while. so among the toradjas the rain-doctor, whose special business it is to drive away rain, takes care not to touch water before, during, or after the discharge of his professional duties. he does not bathe, he eats with unwashed hands, he drinks nothing but palm wine, and if he has to cross a stream he is careful not to step in the water. having thus prepared himself for his task he has a small hut built for himself outside of the village in a rice-field, and in this hut he keeps up a little fire, which on no account may be suffered to go out. in the fire he burns various kinds of wood, which are supposed to possess the property of driving off rain; and he puffs in the direction from which the rain threatens to come, holding in his hand a packet of leaves and bark which derive a similar cloud-compelling virtue, not from their chemical composition, but from their names, which happen to signify something dry or volatile. if clouds should appear in the sky while he is at work, he takes lime in the hollow of his hand and blows it towards them. the lime, being so very dry, is obviously well adapted to disperse the damp clouds. should rain afterwards be wanted, he has only to pour water on his fire, and immediately the rain will descend in sheets. the reader will observe how exactly the javanese and toradja observances, which are intended to prevent rain, form the antithesis of the indian observances, which aim at producing it. the indian sage is commanded to touch water thrice a day regularly as well as on various special occasions; the javanese and toradja wizards may not touch it at all. the indian lives out in the forest, and even when it rains he may not take shelter; the javanese and the toradja sit in a house or a hut. the one signifies his sympathy with water by receiving the rain on his person and speaking of it respectfully; the others light a lamp or a fire and do their best to drive the rain away. yet the principle on which all three act is the same; each of them, by a sort of childish make-believe, identifies himself with the phenomenon which he desires to produce. it is the old fallacy that the effect resembles its cause: if you would make wet weather, you must be wet; if you would make dry weather, you must be dry. in south-eastern europe at the present day ceremonies are observed for the purpose of making rain which not only rest on the same general train of thought as the preceding, but even in their details resemble the ceremonies practised with the same intention by the baronga of delagoa bay. among the greeks of thessaly and macedonia, when a drought has lasted a long time, it is customary to send a procession of children round to all the wells and springs of the neighbourhood. at the head of the procession walks a girl adorned with flowers, whom her companions drench with water at every halting-place, while they sing an invocation, of which the following is part: "perperia all fresh bedewed, freshen all the neighbourhood; by the woods, on the highway, as thou goest, to god now pray: o my god, upon the plain, send thou us a still, small rain; that the fields may fruitful be, and vines in blossom we may see; that the grain be full and sound, and wealthy grow the folks around." in time of drought the serbians strip a girl to her skin and clothe her from head to foot in grass, herbs, and flowers, even her face being hidden behind a veil of living green. thus disguised she is called the dodola, and goes through the village with a troop of girls. they stop before every house; the dodola keeps turning herself round and dancing, while the other girls form a ring about her singing one of the dodola songs, and the housewife pours a pail of water over her. one of the songs they sing runs thus: "we go through the village; the clouds go in the sky; we go faster, faster go the clouds; they have overtaken us, and wetted the corn and the vine." at poona in india, when rain is needed, the boys dress up one of their number in nothing but leaves and call him king of rain. then they go round to every house in the village, where the house-holder or his wife sprinkles the rain king with water, and gives the party food of various kinds. when they have thus visited all the houses, they strip the rain king of his leafy robes and feast upon what they have gathered. bathing is practised as a rain-charm in some parts of southern and western russia. sometimes after service in church the priest in his robes has been thrown down on the ground and drenched with water by his parishioners. sometimes it is the women who, without stripping off their clothes, bathe in crowds on the day of st. john the baptist, while they dip in the water a figure made of branches, grass, and herbs, which is supposed to represent the saint. in kursk, a province of southern russia, when rain is much wanted, the women seize a passing stranger and throw him into the river, or souse him from head to foot. later on we shall see that a passing stranger is often taken for a deity or the personification of some natural power. it is recorded in official documents that during a drought in the peasants of scheroutz and werboutz collected all the women and compelled them to bathe, in order that rain might fall. an armenian rain-charm is to throw the wife of a priest into the water and drench her. the arabs of north africa fling a holy man, willy-nilly, into a spring as a remedy for drought. in minahassa, a province of north celebes, the priest bathes as a rain-charm. in central celebes when there has been no rain for a long time and the rice-stalks begin to shrivel up, many of the villagers, especially the young folk, go to a neighbouring brook and splash each other with water, shouting noisily, or squirt water on one another through bamboo tubes. sometimes they imitate the plump of rain by smacking the surface of the water with their hands, or by placing an inverted gourd on it and drumming on the gourd with their fingers. women are sometimes supposed to be able to make rain by ploughing, or pretending to plough. thus the pshaws and chewsurs of the caucasus have a ceremony called "ploughing the rain," which they observe in time of drought. girls yoke themselves to a plough and drag it into a river, wading in the water up to their girdles. in the same circumstances armenian girls and women do the same. the oldest woman, or the priest's wife, wears the priest's dress, while the others, dressed as men, drag the plough through the water against the stream. in the caucasian province of georgia, when a drought has lasted long, marriageable girls are yoked in couples with an ox-yoke on their shoulders, a priest holds the reins, and thus harnessed they wade through rivers, puddles, and marshes, praying, screaming, weeping, and laughing. in a district of transylvania when the ground is parched with drought, some girls strip themselves naked, and, led by an older woman, who is also naked, they steal a harrow and carry it across the fields to a brook, where they set it afloat. next they sit on the harrow and keep a tiny flame burning on each corner of it for an hour. then they leave the harrow in the water and go home. a similar rain-charm is resorted to in some parts of india; naked women drag a plough across a field by night, while the men keep carefully out of the way, for their presence would break the spell. sometimes the rain-charm operates through the dead. thus in new caledonia the rain-makers blackened themselves all over, dug up a dead body, took the bones to a cave, jointed them, and hung the skeleton over some taro leaves. water was poured over the skeleton to run down on the leaves. they believed that the soul of the deceased took up the water, converted it into rain, and showered it down again. in russia, if common report may be believed, it is not long since the peasants of any district that chanced to be afflicted with drought used to dig up the corpse of some one who had drunk himself to death and sink it in the nearest swamp or lake, fully persuaded that this would ensure the fall of the needed rain. in the prospect of a bad harvest, caused by a prolonged drought, induced the inhabitants of a village in the tarashchansk district to dig up the body of a raskolnik, or dissenter, who had died in the preceding december. some of the party beat the corpse, or what was left of it, about the head, exclaiming, "give us rain!" while others poured water on it through a sieve. here the pouring of water through a sieve seems plainly an imitation of a shower, and reminds us of the manner in which strepsiades in aristophanes imagined that rain was made by zeus. sometimes, in order to procure rain, the toradjas make an appeal to the pity of the dead. thus, in the village of kalingooa, there is the grave of a famous chief, the grandfather of the present ruler. when the land suffers from unseasonable drought, the people go to this grave, pour water on it, and say, "o grandfather, have pity on us; if it is your will that this year we should eat, then give rain." after that they hang a bamboo full of water over the grave; there is a small hole in the lower end of the bamboo, so that the water drips from it continually. the bamboo is always refilled with water until rain drenches the ground. here, as in new caledonia, we find religion blent with magic, for the prayer to the dead chief, which is purely religious, is eked out with a magical imitation of rain at his grave. we have seen that the baronga of delagoa bay drench the tombs of their ancestors, especially the tombs of twins, as a raincharm. among some of the indian tribes in the region of the orinoco it was customary for the relations of a deceased person to disinter his bones a year after burial, burn them, and scatter the ashes to the winds, because they believed that the ashes were changed into rain, which the dead man sent in return for his obsequies. the chinese are convinced that when human bodies remain unburied, the souls of their late owners feel the discomfort of rain, just as living men would do if they were exposed without shelter to the inclemency of the weather. these wretched souls, therefore, do all in their power to prevent the rain from falling, and often their efforts are only too successful. then drought ensues, the most dreaded of all calamities in china, because bad harvests, dearth, and famine follow in its train. hence it has been a common practice of the chinese authorities in time of drought to inter the dry bones of the unburied dead for the purpose of putting an end to the scourge and conjuring down the rain. animals, again, often play an important part in these weather-charms. the anula tribe of northern australia associate the dollar-bird with rain, and call it the rain-bird. a man who has the bird for his totem can make rain at a certain pool. he catches a snake, puts it alive into the pool, and after holding it under water for a time takes it out, kills it, and lays it down by the side of the creek. then he makes an arched bundle of grass stalks in imitation of a rainbow, and sets it up over the snake. after that all he does is to sing over the snake and the mimic rainbow; sooner or later the rain will fall. they explain this procedure by saying that long ago the dollar-bird had as a mate at this spot a snake, who lived in the pool and used to make rain by spitting up into the sky till a rainbow and clouds appeared and rain fell. a common way of making rain in many parts of java is to bathe a cat or two cats, a male and a female; sometimes the animals are carried in procession with music. even in batavia you may from time to time see children going about with a cat for this purpose; when they have ducked it in a pool, they let it go. among the wambugwe of east africa, when the sorcerer desires to make rain, he takes a black sheep and a black calf in bright sunshine, and has them placed on the roof of the common hut in which the people live together. then he slits the stomachs of the animals and scatters their contents in all directions. after that he pours water and medicine into a vessel; if the charm has succeeded, the water boils up and rain follows. on the other hand, if the sorcerer wishes to prevent rain from falling, he withdraws into the interior of the hut, and there heats a rock-crystal in a calabash. in order to procure rain the wagogo sacrifice black fowls, black sheep, and black cattle at the graves of dead ancestors, and the rain-maker wears black clothes during the rainy season. among the matabele the rain-charm employed by sorcerers was made from the blood and gall of a black ox. in a district of sumatra, in order to procure rain, all the women of the village, scantily clad, go to the river, wade into it, and splash each other with the water. a black cat is thrown into the stream and made to swim about for a while, then allowed to escape to the bank, pursued by the splashing of the women. the garos of assam offer a black goat on the top of a very high mountain in time of drought. in all these cases the colour of the animal is part of the charm; being black, it will darken the sky with rain-clouds. so the bechuanas burn the stomach of an ox at evening, because they say, "the black smoke will gather the clouds and cause the rain to come." the timorese sacrifice a black pig to the earth-goddess for rain, a white or red one to the sun-god for sunshine. the angoni sacrifice a black ox for rain and a white one for fine weather. among the high mountains of japan there is a district in which, if rain has not fallen for a long time, a party of villagers goes in procession to the bed of a mountain torrent, headed by a priest, who leads a black dog. at the chosen spot they tether the beast to a stone, and make it a target for their bullets and arrows. when its life-blood bespatters the rocks, the peasants throw down their weapons and lift up their voices in supplication to the dragon divinity of the stream, exhorting him to send down forthwith a shower to cleanse the spot from its defilement. custom has prescribed that on these occasions the colour of the victim shall be black, as an emblem of the wished-for rain-clouds. but if fine weather is wanted, the victim must be white, without a spot. the intimate association of frogs and toads with water has earned for these creatures a widespread reputation as custodians of rain; and hence they often play a part in charms designed to draw needed showers from the sky. some of the indians of the orinoco held the toad to be the god or lord of the waters, and for that reason feared to kill the creature. they have been known to keep frogs under a pot and to beat them with rods when there was a drought. it is said that the aymara indians often make little images of frogs and other aquatic animals and place them on the tops of the hills as a means of bringing down rain. the thompson indians of british columbia and some people in europe think that to kill a frog will cause rain to fall. in order to procure rain people of low caste in the central provinces of india will tie a frog to a rod covered with green leaves and branches of the _nîm_ tree (_azadirachta indica_) and carry it from door to door singing: "send soon, o frog, the jewel of water! and ripen the wheat and millet in the field." the kapus or reddis are a large caste of cultivators and landowners in the madras presidency. when rain fails, women of the caste will catch a frog and tie it alive to a new winnowing fan made of bamboo. on this fan they spread a few margosa leaves and go from door to door singing, "lady frog must have her bath. oh! rain-god, give a little water for her at least." while the kapu women sing this song, the woman of the house pours water over the frog and gives an alms, convinced that by so doing she will soon bring rain down in torrents. sometimes, when a drought has lasted a long time, people drop the usual hocus-pocus of imitative magic altogether, and being far too angry to waste their breath in prayer they seek by threats and curses or even downright physical force to extort the waters of heaven from the supernatural being who has, so to say, cut them off at the main. in a japanese village, when the guardian divinity had long been deaf to the peasants' prayers for rain, they at last threw down his image and, with curses loud and long, hurled it head foremost into a stinking rice-field. "there," they said, "you may stay yourself for a while, to see how _you_ will feel after a few days' scorching in this broiling sun that is burning the life from our cracking fields." in the like circumstances the feloupes of senegambia cast down their fetishes and drag them about the fields, cursing them till rain falls. the chinese are adepts in the art of taking the kingdom of heaven by storm. thus, when rain is wanted they make a huge dragon of paper or wood to represent the rain-god, and carry it about in procession; but if no rain follows, the mock-dragon is execrated and torn to pieces. at other times they threaten and beat the god if he does not give rain; sometimes they publicly depose him from the rank of deity. on the other hand, if the wished-for rain falls, the god is promoted to a higher rank by an imperial decree. in april the mandarins of canton prayed to the god lung-wong to stop the incessant downpour of rain; and when he turned a deaf ear to their petitions they put him in a lock-up for five days. this had a salutary effect. the rain ceased and the god was restored to liberty. some years before, in time of drought, the same deity had been chained and exposed to the sun for days in the courtyard of his temple in order that he might feel for himself the urgent need of rain. so when the siamese need rain, they set out their idols in the blazing sun; but if they want dry weather, they unroof the temples and let the rain pour down on the idols. they think that the inconvenience to which the gods are thus subjected will induce them to grant the wishes of their worshippers. the reader may smile at the meteorology of the far east; but precisely similar modes of procuring rain have been resorted to in christian europe within our own lifetime. by the end of april there was great distress in sicily for lack of water. the drought had lasted six months. every day the sun rose and set in a sky of cloudless blue. the gardens of the conca d'oro, which surround palermo with a magnificent belt of verdure, were withering. food was becoming scarce. the people were in great alarm. all the most approved methods of procuring rain had been tried without effect. processions had traversed the streets and the fields. men, women, and children, telling their beads, had lain whole nights before the holy images. consecrated candles had burned day and night in the churches. palm branches, blessed on palm sunday, had been hung on the trees. at solaparuta, in accordance with a very old custom, the dust swept from the churches on palm sunday had been spread on the fields. in ordinary years these holy sweepings preserve the crops; but that year, if you will believe me, they had no effect whatever. at nicosia the inhabitants, bare-headed and bare-foot, carried the crucifixes through all the wards of the town and scourged each other with iron whips. it was all in vain. even the great st. francis of paolo himself, who annually performs the miracle of rain and is carried every spring through the market-gardens, either could not or would not help. masses, vespers, concerts, illuminations, fire-works--nothing could move him. at last the peasants began to lose patience. most of the saints were banished. at palermo they dumped st. joseph in a garden to see the state of things for himself, and they swore to leave him there in the sun till rain fell. other saints were turned, like naughty children, with their faces to the wall. others again, stripped of their beautiful robes, were exiled far from their parishes, threatened, grossly insulted, ducked in horse-ponds. at caltanisetta the golden wings of st. michael the archangel were torn from his shoulders and replaced with wings of pasteboard; his purple mantle was taken away and a clout wrapt about him instead. at licata the patron saint, st. angelo, fared even worse, for he was left without any garments at all; he was reviled, he was put in irons, he was threatened with drowning or hanging. "rain or the rope!" roared the angry people at him, as they shook their fists in his face. sometimes an appeal is made to the pity of the gods. when their corn is being burnt up by the sun, the zulus look out for a "heaven bird," kill it, and throw it into a pool. then the heaven melts with tenderness for the death of the bird; "it wails for it by raining, wailing a funeral wail." in zululand women sometimes bury their children up to the neck in the ground, and then retiring to a distance keep up a dismal howl for a long time. the sky is supposed to melt with pity at the sight. then the women dig the children out and feel sure that rain will soon follow. they say that they call to "the lord above" and ask him to send rain. if it comes they declare that "usondo rains." in times of drought the guanches of teneriffe led their sheep to sacred ground, and there they separated the lambs from their dams, that their plaintive bleating might touch the heart of the god. in kumaon a way of stopping rain is to pour hot oil in the left ear of a dog. the animal howls with pain, his howls are heard by indra, and out of pity for the beast's sufferings the god stops the rain. sometimes the toradjas attempt to procure rain as follows. they place the stalks of certain plants in water, saying, "go and ask for rain, and so long as no rain falls i will not plant you again, but there shall you die." also they string some fresh-water snails on a cord, and hang the cord on a tree, and say to the snails, "go and ask for rain, and so long as no rain comes, i will not take you back to the water." then the snails go and weep, and the gods take pity and send rain. however, the foregoing ceremonies are religious rather than magical, since they involve an appeal to the compassion of higher powers. stones are often supposed to possess the property of bringing on rain, provided they be dipped in water or sprinkled with it, or treated in some other appropriate manner. in a samoan village a certain stone was carefully housed as the representative of the rain-making god, and in time of drought his priests carried the stone in procession and dipped it in a stream. among the ta-ta-thi tribe of new south wales, the rain-maker breaks off a piece of quartz-crystal and spits it towards the sky; the rest of the crystal he wraps in emu feathers, soaks both crystal and feathers in water, and carefully hides them. in the keramin tribe of new south wales the wizard retires to the bed of a creek, drops water on a round flat stone, then covers up and conceals it. among some tribes of north-western australia the rain-maker repairs to a piece of ground which is set apart for the purpose of rain-making. there he builds a heap of stones or sand, places on the top of it his magic stone, and walks or dances round the pile chanting his incantations for hours, till sheer exhaustion obliges him to desist, when his place is taken by his assistant. water is sprinkled on the stone and huge fires are kindled. no layman may approach the sacred spot while the mystic ceremony is being performed. when the sulka of new britain wish to procure rain they blacken stones with the ashes of certain fruits and set them out, along with certain other plants and buds, in the sun. then a handful of twigs is dipped in water and weighted with stones, while a spell is chanted. after that rain should follow. in manipur, on a lofty hill to the east of the capital, there is a stone which the popular imagination likens to an umbrella. when rain is wanted, the rajah fetches water from a spring below and sprinkles it on the stone. at sagami in japan there is a stone which draws down rain whenever water is poured on it. when the wakondyo, a tribe of central africa, desire rain, they send to the wawamba, who dwell at the foot of snowy mountains, and are the happy possessors of a "rain-stone." in consideration of a proper payment, the wawamba wash the precious stone, anoint it with oil, and put it in a pot full of water. after that the rain cannot fail to come. in the arid wastes of arizona and new mexico the apaches sought to make rain by carrying water from a certain spring and throwing it on a particular point high up on a rock; after that they imagined that the clouds would soon gather, and that rain would begin to fall. but customs of this sort are not confined to the wilds of africa and asia or the torrid deserts of australia and the new world. they have been practised in the cool air and under the grey skies of europe. there is a fountain called barenton, of romantic fame, in those "wild woods of broceliande," where, if legend be true, the wizard merlin still sleeps his magic slumber in the hawthorn shade. thither the breton peasants used to resort when they needed rain. they caught some of the water in a tankard and threw it on a slab near the spring. on snowdon there is a lonely tarn called dulyn, or the black lake, lying "in a dismal dingle surrounded by high and dangerous rocks." a row of stepping-stones runs out into the lake, and if any one steps on the stones and throws water so as to wet the farthest stone, which is called the red altar, "it is but a chance that you do not get rain before night, even when it is hot weather." in these cases it appears probable that, as in samoa, the stone is regarded as more or less divine. this appears from the custom sometimes observed of dipping a cross in the fountain of barenton to procure rain, for this is plainly a christian substitute for the old pagan way of throwing water on the stone. at various places in france it is, or used till lately to be, the practice to dip the image of a saint in water as a means of procuring rain. thus, beside the old priory of commagny, there is a spring of st. gervais, whither the inhabitants go in procession to obtain rain or fine weather according to the needs of the crops. in times of great drought they throw into the basin of the fountain an ancient stone image of the saint that stands in a sort of niche from which the fountain flows. at collobrières and carpentras a similar practice was observed with the images of st. pons and st. gens respectively. in several villages of navarre prayers for rain used to be offered to st. peter, and by way of enforcing them the villagers carried the image of the saint in procession to the river, where they thrice invited him to reconsider his resolution and to grant their prayers; then, if he was still obstinate, they plunged him in the water, despite the remonstrances of the clergy, who pleaded with as much truth as piety that a simple caution or admonition administered to the image would produce an equally good effect. after this the rain was sure to fall within twenty-four hours. catholic countries do not enjoy a monopoly of making rain by ducking holy images in water. in mingrelia, when the crops are suffering from want of rain, they take a particularly holy image and dip it in water every day till a shower falls; and in the far east the shans drench the images of buddha with water when the rice is perishing of drought. in all such cases the practice is probably at bottom a sympathetic charm, however it may be disguised under the appearance of a punishment or a threat. like other peoples, the greeks and romans sought to obtain rain by magic, when prayers and processions had proved ineffectual. for example, in arcadia, when the corn and trees were parched with drought, the priest of zeus dipped an oak branch into a certain spring on mount lycaeus. thus troubled, the water sent up a misty cloud, from which rain soon fell upon the land. a similar mode of making rain is still practised, as we have seen, in halmahera near new guinea. the people of crannon in thessaly had a bronze chariot which they kept in a temple. when they desired a shower they shook the chariot and the shower fell. probably the rattling of the chariot was meant to imitate thunder; we have already seen that mock thunder and lightning form part of a rain-charm in russia and japan. the legendary salmoneus, king of elis, made mock thunder by dragging bronze kettles behind his chariot, or by driving over a bronze bridge, while he hurled blazing torches in imitation of lightning. it was his impious wish to mimic the thundering car of zeus as it rolled across the vault of heaven. indeed he declared that he was actually zeus, and caused sacrifices to be offered to himself as such. near a temple of mars, outside the walls of rome, there was kept a certain stone known as the _lapis manalis._ in time of drought the stone was dragged into rome, and this was supposed to bring down rain immediately. . the magical control of the sun as the magician thinks he can make rain, so he fancies he can cause the sun to shine, and can hasten or stay its going down. at an eclipse the ojebways used to imagine that the sun was being extinguished. so they shot fire-tipped arrows in the air, hoping thus to rekindle his expiring light. the sencis of peru also shot burning arrows at the sun during an eclipse, but apparently they did this not so much to relight his lamp as to drive away a savage beast with which they supposed him to be struggling. conversely during an eclipse of the moon some tribes of the orinoco used to bury lighted brands in the ground; because, said they, if the moon were to be extinguished, all fire on earth would be extinguished with her, except such as was hidden from her sight. during an eclipse of the sun the kamtchatkans were wont to bring out fire from their huts and pray the great luminary to shine as before. but the prayer addressed to the sun shows that this ceremony was religious rather than magical. purely magical, on the other hand, was the ceremony observed on similar occasions by the chilcotin indians. men and women tucked up their robes, as they do in travelling, and then leaning on staves, as if they were heavy laden, they continued to walk in a circle till the eclipse was over. apparently they thought thus to support the failing steps of the sun as he trod his weary round in the sky. similarly in ancient egypt the king, as the representative of the sun, walked solemnly round the walls of a temple in order to ensure that the sun should perform his daily journey round the sky without the interruption of an eclipse or other mishap. and after the autumnal equinox the ancient egyptians held a festival called "the nativity of the sun's walking-stick," because, as the luminary declined daily in the sky, and his light and heat diminished, he was supposed to need a staff on which to lean. in new caledonia when a wizard desires to make sunshine, he takes some plants and corals to the burial-ground, and fashions them into a bundle, adding two locks of hair cut from a living child of his family, also two teeth or an entire jawbone from the skeleton of an ancestor. he then climbs a mountain whose top catches the first rays of the morning sun. here he deposits three sorts of plants on a flat stone, places a branch of dry coral beside them, and hangs the bundle of charms over the stone. next morning he returns to the spot and sets fire to the bundle at the moment when the sun rises from the sea. as the smoke curls up, he rubs the stone with the dry coral, invokes his ancestors and says: "sun! i do this that you may be burning hot, and eat up all the clouds in the sky." the same ceremony is repeated at sunset. the new caledonians also make a drought by means of a disc-shaped stone with a hole in it. at the moment when the sun rises, the wizard holds the stone in his hand and passes a burning brand repeatedly into the hole, while he says: "i kindle the sun, in order that he may eat up the clouds and dry up our land, so that it may produce nothing." the banks islanders make sunshine by means of a mock sun. they take a very round stone, called a _vat loa_ or sunstone, wind red braid about it, and stick it with owls' feathers to represent rays, singing the proper spell in a low voice. then they hang it on some high tree, such as a banyan or a casuarina, in a sacred place. the offering made by the brahman in the morning is supposed to produce the sun, and we are told that "assuredly it would not rise, were he not to make that offering." the ancient mexicans conceived the sun as the source of all vital force; hence they named him ipalnemohuani, "he by whom men live." but if he bestowed life on the world, he needed also to receive life from it. and as the heart is the seat and symbol of life, bleeding hearts of men and animals were presented to the sun to maintain him in vigour and enable him to run his course across the sky. thus the mexican sacrifices to the sun were magical rather than religious, being designed, not so much to please and propitiate him, as physically to renew his energies of heat, light, and motion. the constant demand for human victims to feed the solar fire was met by waging war every year on the neighbouring tribes and bringing back troops of captives to be sacrificed on the altar. thus the ceaseless wars of the mexicans and their cruel system of human sacrifices, the most monstrous on record, sprang in great measure from a mistaken theory of the solar system. no more striking illustration could be given of the disastrous consequences that may flow in practice from a purely speculative error. the ancient greeks believed that the sun drove in a chariot across the sky; hence the rhodians, who worshipped the sun as their chief deity, annually dedicated a chariot and four horses to him, and flung them into the sea for his use. doubtless they thought that after a year's work his old horses and chariot would be worn out. from a like motive, probably, the idolatrous kings of judah dedicated chariots and horses to the sun, and the spartans, persians, and massagetae sacrificed horses to him. the spartans performed the sacrifice on the top of mount taygetus, the beautiful range behind which they saw the great luminary set every night. it was as natural for the inhabitants of the valley of sparta to do this as it was for the islanders of rhodes to throw the chariot and horses into the sea, into which the sun seemed to them to sink at evening. for thus, whether on the mountain or in the sea, the fresh horses stood ready for the weary god where they would be most welcome, at the end of his day's journey. as some people think they can light up the sun or speed him on his way, so others fancy they can retard or stop him. in a pass of the peruvian andes stand two ruined towers on opposite hills. iron hooks are clamped into their walls for the purpose of stretching a net from one tower to the other. the net is intended to catch the sun. stories of men who have caught the sun in a noose are widely spread. when the sun is going southward in the autumn, and sinking lower and lower in the arctic sky, the esquimaux of iglulik play the game of cat's cradle in order to catch him in the meshes of the string and so prevent his disappearance. on the contrary, when the sun is moving northward in the spring, they play the game of cup-and-ball to hasten his return. when an australian blackfellow wishes to stay the sun from going down till he gets home, he puts a sod in the fork of a tree, exactly facing the setting sun. on the other hand, to make it go down faster, the australians throw sand into the air and blow with their mouths towards the sun, perhaps to waft the lingering orb westward and bury it under the sands into which it appears to sink at night. as some people imagine they can hasten the sun, so others fancy they can jog the tardy moon. the natives of new guinea reckon months by the moon, and some of them have been known to throw stones and spears at the moon, in order to accelerate its progress and so to hasten the return of their friends, who were away from home for twelve months working on a tobacco plantation. the malays think that a bright glow at sunset may throw a weak person into a fever. hence they attempt to extinguish the glow by spitting out water and throwing ashes at it. the shuswap indians believe that they can bring on cold weather by burning the wood of a tree that has been struck by lightning. the belief may be based on the observation that in their country cold follows a thunder-storm. hence in spring, when these indians are travelling over the snow on high ground, they burn splinters of such wood in the fire in order that the crust of the snow may not melt. . the magical control of the wind once more, the savage thinks he can make the wind to blow or to be still. when the day is hot and a yakut has a long way to go, he takes a stone which he has chanced to find in an animal or fish, winds a horse-hair several times round it, and ties it to a stick. he then waves the stick about, uttering a spell. soon a cool breeze begins to blow. in order to procure a cool wind for nine days the stone should first be dipped in the blood of a bird or beast and then presented to the sun, while the sorcerer makes three turns contrary to the course of the luminary. if a hottentot desires the wind to drop, he takes one of his fattest skins and hangs it on the end of a pole, in the belief that by blowing the skin down the wind will lose all its force and must itself fall. fuegian wizards throw shells against the wind to make it drop. the natives of the island of bibili, off new guinea, are reputed to make wind by blowing with their mouths. in stormy weather the bogadjim people say, "the bibili folk are at it again, blowing away." another way of making wind which is practised in new guinea is to strike a "wind-stone" lightly with a stick; to strike it hard would bring on a hurricane. so in scotland witches used to raise the wind by dipping a rag in water and beating it thrice on a stone, saying: "i knok this rag upone this stane to raise the wind in the divellis name, it sall not lye till i please againe." in greenland a woman in child-bed and for some time after delivery is supposed to possess the power of laying a storm. she has only to go out of doors, fill her mouth with air, and coming back into the house blow it out again. in antiquity there was a family at corinth which enjoyed the reputation of being able to still the raging wind; but we do not know in what manner its members exercised a useful function, which probably earned for them a more solid recompense than mere repute among the seafaring population of the isthmus. even in christian times, under the reign of constantine, a certain sopater suffered death at constantinople on a charge of binding the winds by magic, because it happened that the corn-ships of egypt and syria were detained afar off by calms or head-winds, to the rage and disappointment of the hungry byzantine rabble. finnish wizards used to sell wind to storm-stayed mariners. the wind was enclosed in three knots; if they undid the first knot, a moderate wind sprang up; if the second, it blew half a gale; if the third, a hurricane. indeed the esthonians, whose country is divided from finland only by an arm of the sea, still believe in the magical powers of their northern neighbours. the bitter winds that blow in spring from the north and north-east, bringing ague and rheumatic inflammations in their train, are set down by the simple esthonian peasantry to the machinations of the finnish wizards and witches. in particular they regard with special dread three days in spring to which they give the name of days of the cross; one of them falls on the eve of ascension day. the people in the neighbourhood of fellin fear to go out on these days lest the cruel winds from lappland should smite them dead. a popular esthonian song runs: wind of the cross! rushing and mighty! heavy the blow of thy wings sweeping past! wild wailing wind of misfortune and sorrow, wizards of finland ride by on the blast. it is said, too, that sailors, beating up against the wind in the gulf of finland, sometimes see a strange sail heave in sight astern and overhaul them hand over hand. on she comes with a cloud of canvas--all her studding-sails out--right in the teeth of the wind, forging her way through the foaming billows, dashing back the spray in sheets from her cutwater, every sail swollen to bursting, every rope strained to cracking. then the sailors know that she hails from finland. the art of tying up the wind in three knots, so that the more knots are loosed the stronger will blow the wind, has been attributed to wizards in lappland and to witches in shetland, lewis, and the isle of man. shetland seamen still buy winds in the shape of knotted handkerchiefs or threads from old women who claim to rule the storms. there are said to be ancient crones in lerwick now who live by selling wind. ulysses received the winds in a leathern bag from aeolus, king of the winds. the motumotu in new guinea think that storms are sent by an oiabu sorcerer; for each wind he has a bamboo which he opens at pleasure. on the top of mount agu in togo, a district of west africa, resides a fetish called bagba, who is supposed to control the wind and the rain. his priest is said to keep the winds shut up in great pots. often the stormy wind is regarded as an evil being who may be intimidated, driven away, or killed. when storms and bad weather have lasted long and food is scarce with the central esquimaux, they endeavour to conjure the tempest by making a long whip of seaweed, armed with which they go down to the beach and strike out in the direction of the wind, crying "_taba_ (it is enough)!" once when north-westerly winds had kept the ice long on the coast and food was becoming scarce, the esquimaux performed a ceremony to make a calm. a fire was kindled on the shore, and the men gathered round it and chanted. an old man then stepped up to the fire and in a coaxing voice invited the demon of the wind to come under the fire and warm himself. when he was supposed to have arrived, a vessel of water, to which each man present had contributed, was thrown on the flames by an old man, and immediately a flight of arrows sped towards the spot where the fire had been. they thought that the demon would not stay where he had been so badly treated. to complete the effect, guns were discharged in various directions, and the captain of a european vessel was invited to fire on the wind with cannon. on the twenty-first of february a similar ceremony was performed by the esquimaux of point barrow, alaska, with the intention of killing the spirit of the wind. women drove the demon from their houses with clubs and knives, with which they made passes in the air; and the men, gathering round a fire, shot him with their rifles and crushed him under a heavy stone the moment that steam rose in a cloud from the smouldering embers, on which a tub of water had just been thrown. the lengua indians of the gran chaco ascribe the rush of a whirl-wind to the passage of a spirit and they fling sticks at it to frighten it away. when the wind blows down their huts, the payaguas of south america snatch up firebrands and run against the wind, menacing it with the blazing brands, while others beat the air with their fists to frighten the storm. when the guaycurus are threatened by a severe storm, the men go out armed, and the women and children scream their loudest to intimidate the demon. during a tempest the inhabitants of a batak village in sumatra have been seen to rush from their houses armed with sword and lance. the rajah placed himself at their head, and with shouts and yells they hewed and hacked at the invisible foe. an old woman was observed to be specially active in the defence of her house, slashing the air right and left with a long sabre. in a violent thunderstorm, the peals sounding very near, the kayans of borneo have been seen to draw their swords threateningly half out of their scabbards, as if to frighten away the demons of the storm. in australia the huge columns of red sand that move rapidly across a desert tract are thought by the natives to be spirits passing along. once an athletic young black ran after one of these moving columns to kill it with boomerangs. he was away two or three hours, and came back very weary, saying he had killed koochee (the demon), but that koochee had growled at him and he must die. of the bedouins of eastern africa it is said that "no whirl-wind ever sweeps across the path without being pursued by a dozen savages with drawn creeses, who stab into the centre of the dusty column in order to drive away the evil spirit that is believed to be riding on the blast." in the light of these examples a story told by herodotus, which his modern critics have treated as a fable, is perfectly credible. he says, without however vouching for the truth of the tale, that once in the land of the psylli, the modern tripoli, the wind blowing from the sahara had dried up all the water-tanks. so the people took counsel and marched in a body to make war on the south wind. but when they entered the desert the simoon swept down on them and buried them to a man. the story may well have been told by one who watched them disappearing, in battle array, with drums and cymbals beating, into the red cloud of whirling sand. vi. magicians as kings the foregoing evidence may satisfy us that in many lands and many races magic has claimed to control the great forces of nature for the good of man. if that has been so, the practitioners of the art must necessarily be personages of importance and influence in any society which puts faith in their extravagant pretensions, and it would be no matter for surprise if, by virtue of the reputation which they enjoy and of the awe which they inspire, some of them should attain to the highest position of authority over their credulous fellows. in point of fact magicians appear to have often developed into chiefs and kings. let us begin by looking at the lowest race of men as to whom we possess comparatively full and accurate information, the aborigines of australia. these savages are ruled neither by chiefs nor kings. so far as their tribes can be said to have a political constitution, it is a democracy or rather an oligarchy of old and influential men, who meet in council and decide on all measures of importance to the practical exclusion of the younger men. their deliberative assembly answers to the senate of later times: if we had to coin a word for such a government of elders we might call it a _gerontocracy._ the elders who in aboriginal australia thus meet and direct the affairs of their tribe appear to be for the most part the headmen of their respective totem clans. now in central australia, where the desert nature of the country and the almost complete isolation from foreign influences have retarded progress and preserved the natives on the whole in their most primitive state, the headmen of the various totem clans are charged with the important task of performing magical ceremonies for the multiplication of the totems, and as the great majority of the totems are edible animals or plants, it follows that these men are commonly expected to provide the people with food by means of magic. others have to make the rain to fall or to render other services to the community. in short, among the tribes of central australia the headmen are public magicians. further, their most important function is to take charge of the sacred storehouse, usually a cleft in the rocks or a hole in the ground, where are kept the holy stones and sticks (_churinga_) with which the souls of all the people, both living and dead, are apparently supposed to be in a manner bound up. thus while the headmen have certainly to perform what we should call civil duties, such as to inflict punishment for breaches of tribal custom, their principal functions are sacred or magical. when we pass from australia to new guinea we find that, though the natives stand at a far higher level of culture than the australian aborigines, the constitution of society among them is still essentially democratic or oligarchic, and chieftainship exists only in embryo. thus sir william macgregor tells us that in british new guinea no one has ever arisen wise enough, bold enough, and strong enough to become the despot even of a single district. "the nearest approach to this has been the very distant one of some person becoming a renowned wizard; but that has only resulted in levying a certain amount of blackmail." according to a native account, the origin of the power of melanesian chiefs lies entirely in the belief that they have communication with mighty ghosts, and wield that supernatural power whereby they can bring the influence of the ghosts to bear. if a chief imposed a fine, it was paid because the people universally dreaded his ghostly power, and firmly believed that he could inflict calamity and sickness upon such as resisted him. as soon as any considerable number of his people began to disbelieve in his influence with the ghosts, his power to levy fines was shaken. again, dr. george brown tells us that in new britain "a ruling chief was always supposed to exercise priestly functions, that is, he professed to be in constant communication with the _tebarans_ (spirits), and through their influence he was enabled to bring rain or sunshine, fair winds or foul ones, sickness or health, success or disaster in war, and generally to procure any blessing or curse for which the applicant was willing to pay a sufficient price." still rising in the scale of culture we come to africa, where both the chieftainship and the kingship are fully developed; and here the evidence for the evolution of the chief out of the magician, and especially out of the rain-maker, is comparatively plentiful. thus among the wambugwe, a bantu people of east africa, the original form of government was a family republic, but the enormous power of the sorcerers, transmitted by inheritance, soon raised them to the rank of petty lords or chiefs. of the three chiefs living in the country in two were much dreaded as magicians, and the wealth of cattle they possessed came to them almost wholly in the shape of presents bestowed for their services in that capacity. their principal art was that of rain-making. the chiefs of the wataturu, another people of east africa, are said to be nothing but sorcerers destitute of any direct political influence. again, among the wagogo of east africa the main power of the chiefs, we are told, is derived from their art of rain-making. if a chief cannot make rain himself, he must procure it from some one who can. again, among the tribes of the upper nile the medicine-men are generally the chiefs. their authority rests above all upon their supposed power of making rain, for "rain is the one thing which matters to the people in those districts, as if it does not come down at the right time it means untold hardships for the community. it is therefore small wonder that men more cunning than their fellows should arrogate to themselves the power of producing it, or that having gained such a reputation, they should trade on the credulity of their simpler neighbours." hence "most of the chiefs of these tribes are rain-makers, and enjoy a popularity in proportion to their powers to give rain to their people at the proper season. . . . rain-making chiefs always build their villages on the slopes of a fairly high hill, as they no doubt know that the hills attract the clouds, and that they are, therefore, fairly safe in their weather forecasts." each of these rain-makers has a number of rain-stones, such as rock-crystal, aventurine, and amethyst, which he keeps in a pot. when he wishes to produce rain he plunges the stones in water, and taking in his hand a peeled cane, which is split at the top, he beckons with it to the clouds to come or waves them away in the way they should go, muttering an incantation the while. or he pours water and the entrails of a sheep or goat into a hollow in a stone and then sprinkles the water towards the sky. though the chief acquires wealth by the exercise of his supposed magical powers, he often, perhaps generally, comes to a violent end; for in time of drought the angry people assemble and kill him, believing that it is he who prevents the rain from falling. yet the office is usually hereditary and passes from father to son. among the tribes which cherish these beliefs and observe these customs are the latuka, bari, laluba, and lokoiya. in central africa, again, the lendu tribe, to the west of lake albert, firmly believe that certain people possess the power of making rain. among them the rain-maker either is a chief or almost invariably becomes one. the banyoro also have a great respect for the dispensers of rain, whom they load with a profusion of gifts. the great dispenser, he who has absolute and uncontrollable power over the rain, is the king; but he can depute his power to other persons, so that the benefit may be distributed and the heavenly water laid on over the various parts of the kingdom. in western as well as in eastern and central africa we meet with the same union of chiefly with magical functions. thus in the fan tribe the strict distinction between chief and medicine-man does not exist. the chief is also a medicine-man and a smith to boot; for the fans esteem the smith's craft sacred, and none but chiefs may meddle with it. as to the relation between the offices of chief and rain-maker in south africa a well-informed writer observes: "in very old days the chief was the great rain-maker of the tribe. some chiefs allowed no one else to compete with them, lest a successful rain-maker should be chosen as chief. there was also another reason: the rain-maker was sure to become a rich man if he gained a great reputation, and it would manifestly never do for the chief to allow any one to be too rich. the rain-maker exerts tremendous control over the people, and so it would be most important to keep this function connected with royalty. tradition always places the power of making rain as the fundamental glory of ancient chiefs and heroes, and it seems probable that it may have been the origin of chieftainship. the man who made the rain would naturally become the chief. in the same way chaka [the famous zulu despot] used to declare that he was the only diviner in the country, for if he allowed rivals his life would be insecure." similarly speaking of the south african tribes in general, dr. moffat says that "the rain-maker is in the estimation of the people no mean personage, possessing an influence over the minds of the people superior even to that of the king, who is likewise compelled to yield to the dictates of this arch-official." the foregoing evidence renders it probable that in africa the king has often been developed out of the public magician, and especially out of the rain-maker. the unbounded fear which the magician inspires and the wealth which he amasses in the exercise of his profession may both be supposed to have contributed to his promotion. but if the career of a magician and especially of a rain-maker offers great rewards to the successful practitioner of the art, it is beset with many pitfalls into which the unskilful or unlucky artist may fall. the position of the public sorcerer is indeed a very precarious one; for where the people firmly believe that he has it in his power to make the rain to fall, the sun to shine, and the fruits of the earth to grow, they naturally impute drought and dearth to his culpable negligence or wilful obstinacy, and they punish him accordingly. hence in africa the chief who fails to procure rain is often exiled or killed. thus, in some parts of west africa, when prayers and offerings presented to the king have failed to procure rain, his subjects bind him with ropes and take him by force to the grave of his forefathers that he may obtain from them the needed rain. the banjars in west africa ascribe to their king the power of causing rain or fine weather. so long as the weather is fine they load him with presents of grain and cattle. but if long drought or rain threatens to spoil the crops, they insult and beat him till the weather changes. when the harvest fails or the surf on the coast is too heavy to allow of fishing, the people of loango accuse their king of a "bad heart" and depose him. on the grain coast the high priest or fetish king, who bears the title of bodio, is responsible for the health of the community, the fertility of the earth, and the abundance of fish in the sea and rivers; and if the country suffers in any of these respects the bodio is deposed from his office. in ussukuma, a great district on the southern bank of the victoria nyanza, "the rain and locust question is part and parcel of the sultan's government. he, too, must know how to make rain and drive away the locusts. if he and his medicine-men are unable to accomplish this, his whole existence is at stake in times of distress. on a certain occasion, when the rain so greatly desired by the people did not come, the sultan was simply driven out (in ututwa, near nassa). the people, in fact, hold that rulers must have power over nature and her phenomena." again, we are told of the natives of the nyanaza region generally that "they are persuaded that rain only falls as a result of magic, and the important duty of causing it to descend devolves on the chief of the tribe. if rain does not come at the proper time, everybody complains. more than one petty king has been banished his country because of drought." among the latuka of the upper nile, when the crops are withering, and all the efforts of the chief to draw down rain have proved fruitless, the people commonly attack him by night, rob him of all he possesses, and drive him away. but often they kill him. in many other parts of the world kings have been expected to regulate the course of nature for the good of their people and have been punished if they failed to do so. it appears that the scythians, when food was scarce, used to put their king in bonds. in ancient egypt the sacred kings were blamed for the failure of the crops, but the sacred beasts were also held responsible for the course of nature. when pestilence and other calamities had fallen on the land, in consequence of a long and severe drought, the priests took the animals by night and threatened them, but if the evil did not abate they slew the beasts. on the coral island of niue¯ or savage island, in the south pacific, there formerly reigned a line of kings. but as the kings were also high priests, and were supposed to make the food grow, the people became angry with them in times of scarcity and killed them; till at last, as one after another was killed, no one would be king, and the monarchy came to an end. ancient chinese writers inform us that in corea the blame was laid on the king whenever too much or too little rain fell and the crops did not ripen. some said that he must be deposed, others that he must be slain. among the american indians the furthest advance towards civilisation was made under the monarchical and theocratic governments of mexico and peru; but we know too little of the early history of these countries to say whether the predecessors of their deified kings were medicine-men or not. perhaps a trace of such a succession may be detected in the oath which the mexican kings, when they mounted the throne, swore that they would make the sun to shine, the clouds to give rain, the rivers to flow, and the earth to bring forth fruits in abundance. certainly, in aboriginal america the sorcerer or medicine-man, surrounded by a halo of mystery and an atmosphere of awe, was a personage of great influence and importance, and he may well have developed into a chief or king in many tribes, though positive evidence of such a development appears to be lacking. thus catlin tells us that in north america the medicine-men "are valued as dignitaries in the tribe, and the greatest respect is paid to them by the whole community; not only for their skill in their _materia medica,_ but more especially for their tact in magic and mysteries, in which they all deal to a very great extent. . . . in all tribes their doctors are conjurers--are magicians--are sooth-sayers, and i had like to have said high-priests, inasmuch as they superintend and conduct all their religious ceremonies; they are looked upon by all as oracles of the nation. in all councils of war and peace, they have a seat with the chiefs, are regularly consulted before any public step is taken, and the greatest deference and respect is paid to their opinions." similarly in california "the shaman was, and still is, perhaps the most important individual among the maidu. in the absence of any definite system of government, the word of a shaman has great weight: as a class they are regarded with much awe, and as a rule are obeyed much more than the chief." in south america also the magicians or medicine-men seem to have been on the highroad to chieftainship or kingship. one of the earliest settlers on the coast of brazil, the frenchman thevet, reports that the indians "hold these _pages_ (or medicine-men) in such honour and reverence that they adore, or rather idolise them. you may see the common folk go to meet them, prostrate themselves, and pray to them, saying, 'grant that i be not ill, that i do not die, neither i nor my children,' or some such request. and he answers, 'you shall not die, you shall not be ill,' and such like replies. but sometimes if it happens that these _pages_ do not tell the truth, and things turn out otherwise than they predicted, the people make no scruple of killing them as unworthy of the title and dignity of _pages._" among the lengua indians of the gran chaco every clan has its cazique or chief, but he possesses little authority. in virtue of his office he has to make many presents, so he seldom grows rich and is generally more shabbily clad than any of his subjects. "as a matter of fact the magician is the man who has most power in his hands, and he is accustomed to receive presents instead of to give them." it is the magician's duty to bring down misfortune and plagues on the enemies of his tribe, and to guard his own people against hostile magic. for these services he is well paid, and by them he acquires a position of great influence and authority. throughout the malay region the rajah or king is commonly regarded with superstitious veneration as the possessor of supernatural powers, and there are grounds for thinking that he too, like apparently so many african chiefs, has been developed out of a simple magician. at the present day the malays firmly believe that the king possesses a personal influence over the works of nature, such as the growth of the crops and the bearing of fruit-trees. the same prolific virtue is supposed to reside, though in a lesser degree, in his delegates, and even in the persons of europeans who chance to have charge of districts. thus in selangor, one of the native states of the malay peninsula, the success or failure of the rice-crops is often attributed to a change of district officers. the toorateyas of southern celebes hold that the prosperity of the rice depends on the behaviour of their princes, and that bad government, by which they mean a government which does not conform to ancient custom, will result in a failure of the crops. the dyaks of sarawak believed that their famous english ruler, rajah brooke, was endowed with a certain magical virtue which, if properly applied, could render the rice-crops abundant. hence when he visited a tribe, they used to bring him the seed which they intended to sow next year, and he fertilised it by shaking over it the women's necklaces, which had been previously dipped in a special mixture. and when he entered a village, the women would wash and bathe his feet, first with water, and then with the milk of a young coco-nut, and lastly with water again, and all this water which had touched his person they preserved for the purpose of distributing it on their farms, believing that it ensured an abundant harvest. tribes which were too far off for him to visit used to send him a small piece of white cloth and a little gold or silver, and when these things had been impregnated by his generative virtue they buried them in their fields, and confidently expected a heavy crop. once when a european remarked that the rice-crops of the samban tribe were thin, the chief immediately replied that they could not be otherwise, since rajah brooke had never visited them, and he begged that mr. brooke might be induced to visit his tribe and remove the sterility of their land. the belief that kings possess magical or supernatural powers by virtue of which they can fertilise the earth and confer other benefits on their subjects would seem to have been shared by the ancestors of all the aryan races from india to ireland, and it has left clear traces of itself in our own country down to modern times. thus the ancient hindoo law-book called _the laws of manu_ describes as follows the effects of a good king's reign: "in that country where the king avoids taking the property of mortal sinners, men are born in due time and are long-lived. and the crops of the husbandmen spring up, each as it was sown, and the children die not, and no misshaped offspring is born." in homeric greece kings and chiefs were spoken of as sacred or divine; their houses, too, were divine and their chariots sacred; and it was thought that the reign of a good king caused the black earth to bring forth wheat and barley, the trees to be loaded with fruit, the flocks to multiply, and the sea to yield fish. in the middle ages, when waldemar i., king of denmark, travelled in germany, mothers brought their infants and husbandmen their seed for him to lay his hands on, thinking that children would both thrive the better for the royal touch, and for a like reason farmers asked him to throw the seed for them. it was the belief of the ancient irish that when their kings observed the customs of their ancestors, the seasons were mild, the crops plentiful, the cattle fruitful, the waters abounded with fish, and the fruit trees had to be propped up on account of the weight of their produce. a canon attributed to st. patrick enumerates among the blessings that attend the reign of a just king "fine weather, calm seas, crops abundant, and trees laden with fruit." on the other hand, dearth, dryness of cows, blight of fruit, and scarcity of corn were regarded as infallible proofs that the reigning king was bad. perhaps the last relic of such superstitions which lingered about our english kings was the notion that they could heal scrofula by their touch. the disease was accordingly known as the king's evil. queen elizabeth often exercised this miraculous gift of healing. on midsummer day , charles the first cured a hundred patients at one swoop in the chapel royal at holyrood. but it was under his son charles the second that the practice seems to have attained its highest vogue. it is said that in the course of his reign charles the second touched near a hundred thousand persons for scrofula. the press to get near him was sometimes terrific. on one occasion six or seven of those who came to be healed were trampled to death. the cool-headed william the third contemptuously refused to lend himself to the hocuspocus; and when his palace was besieged by the usual unsavoury crowd, he ordered them to be turned away with a dole. on the only occasion when he was importuned into laying his hand on a patient, he said to him, "god give you better health and more sense." however, the practice was continued, as might have been expected, by the dull bigot james the second and his dull daughter queen anne. the kings of france also claimed to possess the same gift of healing by touch, which they are said to have derived from clovis or from st. louis, while our english kings inherited it from edward the confessor. similarly the savage chiefs of tonga were believed to heal scrofula and cases of indurated liver by the touch of their feet; and the cure was strictly homoeopathic, for the disease as well as the cure was thought to be caused by contact with the royal person or with anything that belonged to it. on the whole, then, we seem to be justified in inferring that in many parts of the world the king is the lineal successor of the old magician or medicine-man. when once a special class of sorcerers has been segregated from the community and entrusted by it with the discharge of duties on which the public safety and welfare are believed to depend, these men gradually rise to wealth and power, till their leaders blossom out into sacred kings. but the great social revolution which thus begins with democracy and ends in despotism is attended by an intellectual revolution which affects both the conception and the functions of royalty. for as time goes on, the fallacy of magic becomes more and more apparent to the acuter minds and is slowly displaced by religion; in other words, the magician gives way to the priest, who, renouncing the attempt to control directly the processes of nature for the good of man, seeks to attain the same end indirectly by appealing to the gods to do for him what he no longer fancies he can do for himself. hence the king, starting as a magician, tends gradually to exchange the practice of magic for the priestly functions of prayer and sacrifice. and while the distinction between the human and the divine is still imperfectly drawn, it is often imagined that men may themselves attain to godhead, not merely after their death, but in their lifetime, through the temporary or permanent possession of their whole nature by a great and powerful spirit. no class of the community has benefited so much as kings by this belief in the possible incarnation of a god in human form. the doctrine of that incarnation, and with it the theory of the divinity of kings in the strict sense of the word, will form the subject of the following chapter. vii. incarnate human gods the instances which in the preceding chapters i have drawn from the beliefs and practices of rude peoples all over the world, may suffice to prove that the savage fails to recognise those limitations to his power over nature which seem so obvious to us. in a society where every man is supposed to be endowed more or less with powers which we should call supernatural, it is plain that the distinction between gods and men is somewhat blurred, or rather has scarcely emerged. the conception of gods as superhuman beings endowed with powers to which man possesses nothing comparable in degree and hardly even in kind, has been slowly evolved in the course of history. by primitive peoples the supernatural agents are not regarded as greatly, if at all, superior to man; for they may be frightened and coerced by him into doing his will. at this stage of thought the world is viewed as a great democracy; all beings in it, whether natural or supernatural, are supposed to stand on a footing of tolerable equality. but with the growth of his knowledge man learns to realise more clearly the vastness of nature and his own littleness and feebleness in presence of it. the recognition of his helplessness does not, however, carry with it a corresponding belief in the impotence of those supernatural beings with which his imagination peoples the universe. on the contrary, it enhances his conception of their power. for the idea of the world as a system of impersonal forces acting in accordance with fixed and invariable laws has not yet fully dawned or darkened upon him. the germ of the idea he certainly has, and he acts upon it, not only in magic art, but in much of the business of daily life. but the idea remains undeveloped, and so far as he attempts to explain the world he lives in, he pictures it as the manifestation of conscious will and personal agency. if then he feels himself to be so frail and slight, how vast and powerful must he deem the beings who control the gigantic machinery of nature! thus as his old sense of equality with the gods slowly vanishes, he resigns at the same time the hope of directing the course of nature by his own unaided resources, that is, by magic, and looks more and more to the gods as the sole repositories of those supernatural powers which he once claimed to share with them. with the advance of knowledge, therefore, prayer and sacrifice assume the leading place in religious ritual; and magic, which once ranked with them as a legitimate equal, is gradually relegated to the background and sinks to the level of a black art. it is not regarded as an encroachment, at once vain and impious, on the domain of the gods, and as such encounters the steady opposition of the priests, whose reputation and influence rise or fall with those of their gods. hence, when at a late period the distinction between religion and superstition has emerged, we find that sacrifice and prayer are the resource of the pious and enlightened portion of the community, while magic is the refuge of the superstitious and ignorant. but when, still later, the conception of the elemental forces as personal agents is giving way to the recognition of natural law; then magic, based as it implicitly is on the idea of a necessary and invariable sequence of cause and effect, independent of personal will, reappears from the obscurity and discredit into which it had fallen, and by investigating the causal sequences in nature, directly prepares the way for science. alchemy leads up to chemistry. the notion of a man-god, or of a human being endowed with divine or supernatural powers, belongs essentially to that earlier period of religious history in which gods and men are still viewed as beings of much the same order, and before they are divided by the impassable gulf which, to later thought, opens out between them. strange, therefore, as may seem to us the idea of a god incarnate in human form, it has nothing very startling for early man, who sees in a man-god or a god-man only a higher degree of the same supernatural powers which he arrogates in perfect good faith to himself. nor does he draw any very sharp distinction between a god and a powerful sorcerer. his gods are often merely invisible magicians who behind the veil of nature work the same sort of charms and incantations which the human magician works in a visible and bodily form among his fellows. and as the gods are commonly believed to exhibit themselves in the likeness of men to their worshippers, it is easy for the magician, with his supposed miraculous powers, to acquire the reputation of being an incarnate deity. thus beginning as little more than a simple conjurer, the medicine-man or magician tends to blossom out into a full-blown god and king in one. only in speaking of him as a god we must beware of importing into the savage conception of deity those very abstract and complex ideas which we attach to the term. our ideas on this profound subject are the fruit of a long intellectual and moral evolution, and they are so far from being shared by the savage that he cannot even understand them when they are explained to him. much of the controversy which has raged as to the religion of the lower races has sprung merely from a mutual misunderstanding. the savage does not understand the thoughts of the civilised man, and few civilised men understand the thoughts of the savage. when the savage uses his word for god, he has in his mind a being of a certain sort: when the civilised man uses his word for god, he has in his mind a being of a very different sort; and if, as commonly happens, the two men are equally unable to place themselves at the other's point of view, nothing but confusion and mistakes can result from their discussions. if we civilised men insist on limiting the name of god to that particular conception of the divine nature which we ourselves have formed, then we must confess that the savage has no god at all. but we shall adhere more closely to the facts of history if we allow most of the higher savages at least to possess a rudimentary notion of certain supernatural beings who may fittingly be called gods, though not in the full sense in which we use the word. that rudimentary notion represents in all probability the germ out of which the civilised peoples have gradually evolved their own high conceptions of deity; and if we could trace the whole course of religious development, we might find that the chain which links our idea of the godhead with that of the savage is one and unbroken. with these explanations and cautions i will now adduce some examples of gods who have been believed by their worshippers to be incarnate in living human beings, whether men or women. the persons in whom a deity is thought to reveal himself are by no means always kings or descendants of kings; the supposed incarnation may take place even in men of the humblest rank. in india, for example, one human god started in life as a cotton-bleacher and another as the son of a carpenter. i shall therefore not draw my examples exclusively from royal personages, as i wish to illustrate the general principle of the deification of living men, in other words, the incarnation of a deity in human form. such incarnate gods are common in rude society. the incarnation may be temporary or permanent. in the former case, the incarnation--commonly known as inspiration or possession--reveals itself in supernatural knowledge rather than in supernatural power. in other words, its usual manifestations are divination and prophecy rather than miracles. on the other hand, when the incarnation is not merely temporary, when the divine spirit has permanently taken up its abode in a human body, the god-man is usually expected to vindicate his character by working miracles. only we have to remember that by men at this stage of thought miracles are not considered as breaches of natural law. not conceiving the existence of natural law, primitive man cannot conceive a breach of it. a miracle is to him merely an unusually striking manifestation of a common power. the belief in temporary incarnation or inspiration is world-wide. certain persons are supposed to be possessed from time to time by a spirit or deity; while the possession lasts, their own personality lies in abeyance, the presence of the spirit is revealed by convulsive shiverings and shakings of the man's whole body, by wild gestures and excited looks, all of which are referred, not to the man himself, but to the spirit which has entered into him; and in this abnormal state all his utterances are accepted as the voice of the god or spirit dwelling in him and speaking through him. thus, for example, in the sandwich islands, the king, personating the god, uttered the responses of the oracle from his concealment in a frame of wicker-work. but in the southern islands of the pacific the god "frequently entered the priest, who, inflated as it were with the divinity, ceased to act or speak as a voluntary agent, but moved and spoke as entirely under supernatural influence. in this respect there was a striking resemblance between the rude oracles of the polynesians, and those of the celebrated nations of ancient greece. as soon as the god was supposed to have entered the priest, the latter became violently agitated, and worked himself up to the highest pitch of apparent frenzy, the muscles of the limbs seemed convulsed, the body swelled, the countenance became terrific, the features distorted, and the eyes wild and strained. in this state he often rolled on the earth, foaming at the mouth, as if labouring under the influence of the divinity by whom he was possessed, and, in shrill cries, and violent and often indistinct sounds, revealed the will of the god. the priests, who were attending, and versed in the mysteries, received, and reported to the people, the declarations which had been thus received. when the priest had uttered the response of the oracle, the violent paroxysm gradually subsided, and comparative composure ensued. the god did not, however, always leave him as soon as the communication had been made. sometimes the same _taura,_ or priest, continued for two or three days possessed by the spirit or deity; a piece of a native cloth, of a peculiar kind, worn round one arm, was an indication of inspiration, or of the indwelling of the god with the individual who wore it. the acts of the man during this period were considered as those of the god, and hence the greatest attention was paid to his expressions, and the whole of his deportment. . . . when _uruhia_ (under the inspiration of the spirit), the priest was always considered as sacred as the god, and was called, during this period, _atua,_ god, though at other times only denominated _taura_ or priest." but examples of such temporary inspiration are so common in every part of the world and are now so familiar through books on ethnology that it is needless to multiply illustrations of the general principle. it may be well, however, to refer to two particular modes of producing temporary inspiration, because they are perhaps less known than some others, and because we shall have occasion to refer to them later on. one of these modes of producing inspiration is by sucking the fresh blood of a sacrificed victim. in the temple of apollo diradiotes at argos, a lamb was sacrificed by night once a month; a woman, who had to observe a rule of chastity, tasted the blood of the lamb, and thus being inspired by the god she prophesied or divined. at aegira in achaia the priestess of earth drank the fresh blood of a bull before she descended into the cave to prophesy. similarly among the kuruvikkarans, a class of bird-catchers and beggars in southern india, the goddess kali is believed to descend upon the priest, and he gives oracular replies after sucking the blood which streams from the cut throat of a goat. at a festival of the alfoors of minahassa, in northern celebes, after a pig has been killed, the priest rushes furiously at it, thrusts his head into the carcase, and drinks of the blood. then he is dragged away from it by force and set on a chair, whereupon he begins to prophesy how the rice-crop will turn out that year. a second time he runs at the carcase and drinks of the blood; a second time he is forced into the chair and continues his predictions. it is thought that there is a spirit in him which possesses the power of prophecy. the other mode of producing temporary inspiration, to which i shall here refer, consists in the use of a sacred tree or plant. thus in the hindoo koosh a fire is kindled with twigs of the sacred cedar; and the dainyal or sibyl, with a cloth over her head, inhales the thick pungent smoke till she is seized with convulsions and falls senseless to the ground. soon she rises and raises a shrill chant, which is caught up and loudly repeated by her audience. so apollo's prophetess ate the sacred laurel and was fumigated with it before she prophesied. the bacchanals ate ivy, and their inspired fury was by some believed to be due to the exciting and intoxicating properties of the plant. in uganda the priest, in order to be inspired by his god, smokes a pipe of tobacco fiercely till he works himself into a frenzy; the loud excited tones in which he then talks are recognised as the voice of the god speaking through him. in madura, an island off the north coast of java, each spirit has its regular medium, who is oftener a woman than a man. to prepare herself for the reception of the spirit she inhales the fumes of incense, sitting with her head over a smoking censer. gradually she falls into a sort of trance accompanied by shrieks, grimaces, and violent spasms. the spirit is now supposed to have entered into her, and when she grows calmer her words are regarded as oracular, being the utterances of the indwelling spirit, while her own soul is temporarily absent. the person temporarily inspired is believed to acquire, not merely divine knowledge, but also, at least occasionally, divine power. in cambodia, when an epidemic breaks out, the inhabitants of several villages unite and go with a band of music at their head to look for the man whom the local god is supposed to have chosen for his temporary incarnation. when found, the man is conducted to the altar of the god, where the mystery of incarnation takes place. then the man becomes an object of veneration to his fellows, who implore him to protect the village against the plague. a certain image of apollo, which stood in a sacred cave at hylae near magnesia, was thought to impart superhuman strength. sacred men, inspired by it, leaped down precipices, tore up huge trees by the roots, and carried them on their backs along the narrowest defiles. the feats performed by inspired dervishes belong to the same class. thus far we have seen that the savage, failing to discern the limits of his ability to control nature, ascribes to himself and to all men certain powers which we should now call supernatural. further, we have seen that, over and above this general supernaturalism, some persons are supposed to be inspired for short periods by a divine spirit, and thus temporarily to enjoy the knowledge and power of the indwelling deity. from beliefs like these it is an easy step to the conviction that certain men are permanently possessed by a deity, or in some other undefined way are endued with so high a degree of supernatural power as to be ranked as gods and to receive the homage of prayer and sacrifice. sometimes these human gods are restricted to purely supernatural or spiritual functions. sometimes they exercise supreme political power in addition. in the latter case they are kings as well as gods, and the government is a theocracy. thus in the marquesas or washington islands there was a class of men who were deified in their lifetime. they were supposed to wield a supernatural power over the elements: they could give abundant harvests or smite the ground with barrenness; and they could inflict disease or death. human sacrifices were offered to them to avert their wrath. there were not many of them, at the most one or two in each island. they lived in mystic seclusion. their powers were sometimes, but not always, hereditary. a missionary has described one of these human gods from personal observation. the god was a very old man who lived in a large house within an enclosure. in the house was a kind of altar, and on the beams of the house and on the trees round it were hung human skeletons, head down. no one entered the enclosure except the persons dedicated to the service of the god; only on days when human victims were sacrificed might ordinary people penetrate into the precinct. this human god received more sacrifices than all the other gods; often he would sit on a sort of scaffold in front of his house and call for two or three human victims at a time. they were always brought, for the terror he inspired was extreme. he was invoked all over the island, and offerings were sent to him from every side. again, of the south sea islands in general we are told that each island had a man who represented or personified the divinity. such men were called gods, and their substance was confounded with that of the deity. the man-god was sometimes the king himself; oftener he was a priest or subordinate chief. the ancient egyptians, far from restricting their adoration to cats and dogs and such small deer, very liberally extended it to men. one of these human deities resided at the village of anabis, and burnt sacrifices were offered to him on the altars; after which, says porphyry, he would eat his dinner just as if he were an ordinary mortal. in classical antiquity the sicilian philosopher empedocles gave himself out to be not merely a wizard but a god. addressing his fellow-citizens in verse he said: "o friends, in this great city that climbs the yellow slope of agrigentum's citadel, who make good works your scope, who offer to the stranger a haven quiet and fair, all hail! among you honoured i walk with lofty air. with garlands, blooming garlands you crown my noble brow, a mortal man no longer, a deathless godhead now. where e'er i go, the people crowd round and worship pay, and thousands follow seeking to learn the better way. some crave prophetic visions, some smit with anguish sore would fain hear words of comfort and suffer pain no more." he asserted that he could teach his disciples how to make the wind to blow or be still, the rain to fall and the sun to shine, how to banish sickness and old age and to raise the dead. when demetrius poliorcetes restored the athenian democracy in b.c., the athenians decreed divine honours to him and his father antigonus, both of them being then alive, under the title of the saviour gods. altars were set up to the saviours, and a priest appointed to attend to their worship. the people went forth to meet their deliverer with hymns and dances, with garlands and incense and libations; they lined the streets and sang that he was the only true god, for the other gods slept, or dwelt far away, or were not. in the words of a contemporary poet, which were chanted in public and sung in private: "of all the gods the greatest and the dearest to the city are come. for demeter and demetrius together time has brought. she comes to hold the maiden's awful rites, and he joyous and fair and laughing, as befits a god. a glorious sight, with all his friends about him, he in their midst, they like to stars, and he the sun. son of poseidon the mighty, aphrodite's son, all hail! the other gods dwell far away, or have no ears, or are not, or pay us no heed. but thee we present see, no god of wood or stone, but godhead true. therefore to thee we pray." the ancient germans believed that there was something holy in women, and accordingly consulted them as oracles. their sacred women, we are told, looked on the eddying rivers and listened to the murmur or the roar of the water, and from the sight and sound foretold what would come to pass. but often the veneration of the men went further, and they worshipped women as true and living goddesses. for example, in the reign of vespasian a certain veleda, of the tribe of the bructeri, was commonly held to be a deity, and in that character reigned over her people, her sway being acknowledged far and wide. she lived in a tower on the river lippe, a tributary of the rhine. when the people of cologne sent to make a treaty with her, the ambassadors were not admitted to her presence; the negotiations were conducted through a minister, who acted as the mouthpiece of her divinity and reported her oracular utterances. the example shows how easily among our rude forefathers the ideas of divinity and royalty coalesced. it is said that among the getae down to the beginning of our era there was always a man who personified a god and was called god by the people. he dwelt on a sacred mountain and acted as adviser to the king. according to the early portuguese historian, dos santos, the zimbas, or muzimbas, a people of south-eastern africa, "do not adore idols or recognize any god, but instead they venerate and honour their king, whom they regard as a divinity, and they say he is the greatest and best in the world. and the said king says of himself that he alone is god of the earth, for which reason if it rains when he does not wish it to do so, or is too hot, he shoots arrows at the sky for not obeying him." the mashona of southern africa informed their bishop that they had once had a god, but that the matabeles had driven him away. "this last was in reference to a curious custom in some villages of keeping a man they called their god. he seemed to be consulted by the people and had presents given to him. there was one at a village belonging to a chief magondi, in the old days. we were asked not to fire off any guns near the village, or we should frighten him away." this mashona god was formerly bound to render an annual tribute to the king of the matabele in the shape of four black oxen and one dance. a missionary has seen and described the deity discharging the latter part of his duty in front of the royal hut. for three mortal hours, without a break, to the banging of a tambourine, the click of castanettes, and the drone of a monotonous song, the swarthy god engaged in a frenzied dance, crouching on his hams like a tailor, sweating like a pig, and bounding about with an agility which testified to the strength and elasticity of his divine legs. the baganda of central africa believed in a god of lake nyanza, who sometimes took up his abode in a man or woman. the incarnate god was much feared by all the people, including the king and the chiefs. when the mystery of incarnation had taken place, the man, or rather the god, removed about a mile and a half from the margin of the lake, and there awaited the appearance of the new moon before he engaged in his sacred duties. from the moment that the crescent moon appeared faintly in the sky, the king and all his subjects were at the command of the divine man, or _lubare_ (god), as he was called, who reigned supreme not only in matters of faith and ritual, but also in questions of war and state policy. he was consulted as an oracle; by his word he could inflict or heal sickness, withhold rain, and cause famine. large presents were made him when his advice was sought. the chief of urua, a large region to the west of lake tanganyika, "arrogates to himself divine honours and power and pretends to abstain from food for days without feeling its necessity; and, indeed, declares that as a god he is altogether above requiring food and only eats, drinks, and smokes for the pleasure it affords him." among the gallas, when a woman grows tired of the cares of housekeeping, she begins to talk incoherently and to demean herself extravagantly. this is a sign of the descent of the holy spirit callo upon her. immediately her husband prostrates himself and adores her; she ceases to bear the humble title of wife and is called "lord"; domestic duties have no further claim on her, and her will is a divine law. the king of loango is honoured by his people "as though he were a god; and he is called sambee and pango, which mean god. they believe that he can let them have rain when he likes; and once a year, in december, which is the time they want rain, the people come to beg of him to grant it to them." on this occasion the king, standing on his throne, shoots an arrow into the air, which is supposed to bring on rain. much the same is said of the king of mombasa. down to a few years ago, when his spiritual reign on earth was brought to an abrupt end by the carnal weapons of english marines and bluejackets, the king of benin was the chief object of worship in his dominions. "he occupies a higher post here than the pope does in catholic europe; for he is not only god's vicegerent upon earth, but a god himself, whose subjects both obey and adore him as such, although i believe their adoration to arise rather from fear than love." the king of iddah told the english officers of the niger expedition, "god made me after his own image; i am all the same as god; and he appointed me a king." a peculiarly bloodthirsty monarch of burma, by name badonsachen, whose very countenance reflected the inbred ferocity of his nature, and under whose reign more victims perished by the executioner than by the common enemy, conceived the notion that he was something more than mortal, and that this high distinction had been granted him as a reward for his numerous good works. accordingly he laid aside the title of king and aimed at making himself a god. with this view, and in imitation of buddha, who, before being advanced to the rank of a divinity, had quitted his royal palace and seraglio and retired from the world, badonsachen withdrew from his palace to an immense pagoda, the largest in the empire, which he had been engaged in constructing for many years. here he held conferences with the most learned monks, in which he sought to persuade them that the five thousand years assigned for the observance of the law of buddha were now elapsed, and that he himself was the god who was destined to appear after that period, and to abolish the old law by substituting his own. but to his great mortification many of the monks undertook to demonstrate the contrary; and this disappointment, combined with his love of power and his impatience under the restraints of an ascetic life, quickly disabused him of his imaginary godhead, and drove him back to his palace and his harem. the king of siam "is venerated equally with a divinity. his subjects ought not to look him in the face; they prostrate themselves before him when he passes, and appear before him on their knees, their elbows resting on the ground." there is a special language devoted to his sacred person and attributes, and it must be used by all who speak to or of him. even the natives have difficulty in mastering this peculiar vocabulary. the hairs of the monarch's head, the soles of his feet, the breath of his body, indeed every single detail of his person, both outward and inward, have particular names. when he eats or drinks, sleeps or walks, a special word indicates that these acts are being performed by the sovereign, and such words cannot possibly be applied to the acts of any other person whatever. there is no word in the siamese language by which any creature of higher rank or greater dignity than a monarch can be described; and the missionaries, when they speak of god, are forced to use the native word for king. but perhaps no country in the world has been so prolific of human gods as india; nowhere has the divine grace been poured out in a more liberal measure on all classes of society from kings down to milkmen. thus amongst the todas, a pastoral people of the neilgherry hills of southern india, the dairy is a sanctuary, and the milkman who attends to it has been described as a god. on being asked whether the todas salute the sun, one of these divine milkmen replied, "those poor fellows do so, but i," tapping his chest, "i, a god! why should i salute the sun?" every one, even his own father, prostrates himself before the milkman, and no one would dare to refuse him anything. no human being, except another milkman, may touch him; and he gives oracles to all who consult him, speaking with the voice of a god. further, in india "every king is regarded as little short of a present god." the hindoo law-book of manu goes farther and says that "even an infant king must not be despised from an idea that he is a mere mortal; for he is a great deity in human form." there is said to have been a sect in orissa some years ago who worshipped the late queen victoria in her lifetime as their chief divinity. and to this day in india all living persons remarkable for great strength or valour or for supposed miraculous powers run the risk of being worshipped as gods. thus, a sect in the punjaub worshipped a deity whom they called nikkal sen. this nikkal sen was no other than the redoubted general nicholson, and nothing that the general could do or say damped the ardour of his adorers. the more he punished them, the greater grew the religious awe with which they worshipped him. at benares not many years ago a celebrated deity was incarnate in the person of a hindoo gentleman who rejoiced in the euphonious name of swami bhaskaranandaji saraswati, and looked uncommonly like the late cardinal manning, only more ingenuous. his eyes beamed with kindly human interest, and he took what is described as an innocent pleasure in the divine honours paid him by his confiding worshippers. at chinchvad, a small town about ten miles from poona in western india, there lives a family of whom one in each generation is believed by a large proportion of the mahrattas to be an incarnation of the elephant-headed god gunputty. that celebrated deity was first made flesh about the year in the person of a brahman of poona, by name mooraba gosseyn, who sought to work out his salvation by abstinence, mortification, and prayer. his piety had its reward. the god himself appeared to him in a vision of the night and promised that a portion of his, that is, of gunputty's holy spirit should abide with him and with his seed after him even to the seventh generation. the divine promise was fulfilled. seven successive incarnations, transmitted from father to son, manifested the light of gunputty to a dark world. the last of the direct line, a heavy-looking god with very weak eyes, died in the year . but the cause of truth was too sacred, and the value of the church property too considerable, to allow the brahmans to contemplate with equanimity the unspeakable loss that would be sustained by a world which knew not gunputty. accordingly they sought and found a holy vessel in whom the divine spirit of the master had revealed itself anew, and the revelation has been happily continued in an unbroken succession of vessels from that time to this. but a mysterious law of spiritual economy, whose operation in the history of religion we may deplore though we cannot alter, has decreed that the miracles wrought by the god-man in these degenerate days cannot compare with those which were wrought by his predecessors in days gone by; and it is even reported that the only sign vouchsafed by him to the present generation of vipers is the miracle of feeding the multitude whom he annually entertains to dinner at chinchvad. a hindoo sect, which has many representatives in bombay and central india, holds that its spiritual chiefs or maharajas, as they are called, are representatives or even actual incarnations on earth of the god krishna. and as krishna looks down from heaven with most favour on such as minister to the wants of his successors and vicars on earth, a peculiar rite called self-devotion has been instituted, whereby his faithful worshippers make over their bodies, their souls, and, what is perhaps still more important, their worldly substance to his adorable incarnations; and women are taught to believe that the highest bliss for themselves and their families is to be attained by yielding themselves to the embraces of those beings in whom the divine nature mysteriously coexists with the form and even the appetites of true humanity. christianity itself has not uniformly escaped the taint of these unhappy delusions; indeed it has often been sullied by the extravagances of vain pretenders to a divinity equal to or even surpassing that of its great founder. in the second century montanus the phrygian claimed to be the incarnate trinity, uniting in his single person god the father, god the son, and god the holy ghost. nor is this an isolated case, the exorbitant pretension of a single ill-balanced mind. from the earliest times down to the present day many sects have believed that christ, nay god himself, is incarnate in every fully initiated christian, and they have carried this belief to its logical conclusion by adoring each other. tertullian records that this was done by his fellow-christians at carthage in the second century; the disciples of st. columba worshipped him as an embodiment of christ; and in the eighth century elipandus of toledo spoke of christ as "a god among gods," meaning that all believers were gods just as truly as jesus himself. the adoration of each other was customary among the albigenses, and is noticed hundreds of times in the records of the inquisition at toulouse in the early part of the fourteenth century. in the thirteenth century there arose a sect called the brethren and sisters of the free spirit, who held that by long and assiduous contemplation any man might be united to the deity in an ineffable manner and become one with the source and parent of all things, and that he who had thus ascended to god and been absorbed in his beatific essence, actually formed part of the godhead, was the son of god in the same sense and manner with christ himself, and enjoyed thereby a glorious immunity from the trammels of all laws human and divine. inwardly transported by this blissful persuasion, though outwardly presenting in their aspect and manners a shocking air of lunacy and distraction, the sectaries roamed from place to place, attired in the most fantastic apparel and begging their bread with wild shouts and clamour, spurning indignantly every kind of honest labour and industry as an obstacle to divine contemplation and to the ascent of the soul towards the father of spirits. in all their excursions they were followed by women with whom they lived on terms of the closest familiarity. those of them who conceived they had made the greatest proficiency in the higher spiritual life dispensed with the use of clothes altogether in their assemblies, looking upon decency and modesty as marks of inward corruption, characteristics of a soul that still grovelled under the dominion of the flesh and had not yet been elevated into communion with the divine spirit, its centre and source. sometimes their progress towards this mystic communion was accelerated by the inquisition, and they expired in the flames, not merely with unclouded serenity, but with the most triumphant feelings of cheerfulness and joy. about the year there appeared, in one of the states of the american union bordering on kentucky, an impostor who declared that he was the son of god, the saviour of mankind, and that he had reappeared on earth to recall the impious, the unbelieving, and sinners to their duty. he protested that if they did not mend their ways within a certain time, he would give the signal, and in a moment the world would crumble to ruins. these extravagant pretensions were received with favour even by persons of wealth and position in society. at last a german humbly besought the new messiah to announce the dreadful catastrophe to his fellow-countrymen in the german language, as they did not understand english, and it seemed a pity that they should be damned merely on that account. the would-be saviour in reply confessed with great candour that he did not know german. "what!" retorted the german, "you the son of god, and don't speak all languages, and don't even know german? come, come, you are a knave, a hypocrite, and a madman. bedlam is the place for you." the spectators laughed, and went away ashamed of their credulity. sometimes, at the death of the human incarnation, the divine spirit transmigrates into another man. the buddhist tartars believe in a great number of living buddhas, who officiate as grand lamas at the head of the most important monasteries. when one of these grand lamas dies his disciples do not sorrow, for they know that he will soon reappear, being born in the form of an infant. their only anxiety is to discover the place of his birth. if at this time they see a rainbow they take it as a sign sent them by the departed lama to guide them to his cradle. sometimes the divine infant himself reveals his identity. "i am the grand lama," he says, "the living buddha of such and such a temple. take me to my old monastery. i am its immortal head." in whatever way the birthplace of the buddha is revealed, whether by the buddha's own avowal or by the sign in the sky, tents are struck, and the joyful pilgrims, often headed by the king or one of the most illustrious of the royal family, set forth to find and bring home the infant god. generally he is born in tibet, the holy land, and to reach him the caravan has often to traverse the most frightful deserts. when at last they find the child they fall down and worship him. before, however, he is acknowledged as the grand lama whom they seek he must satisfy them of his identity. he is asked the name of the monastery of which he claims to be the head, how far off it is, and how many monks live in it; he must also describe the habits of the deceased grand lama and the manner of his death. then various articles, as prayer-books, tea-pots, and cups, are placed before him, and he has to point out those used by himself in his previous life. if he does so without a mistake his claims are admitted, and he is conducted in triumph to the monastery. at the head of all the lamas is the dalai lama of lhasa, the rome of tibet. he is regarded as a living god, and at death his divine and immortal spirit is born again in a child. according to some accounts the mode of discovering the dalai lama is similar to the method, already described, of discovering an ordinary grand lama. other accounts speak of an election by drawing lots from a golden jar. wherever he is born, the trees and plants put forth green leaves; at his bidding flowers bloom and springs of water rise; and his presence diffuses heavenly blessings. but he is by no means the only man who poses as a god in these regions. a register of all the incarnate gods in the chinese empire is kept in the _li fan yiian_ or colonial office at peking. the number of gods who have thus taken out a license is one hundred and sixty. tibet is blessed with thirty of them, northern mongolia rejoices in nineteen, and southern mongolia basks in the sunshine of no less than fifty-seven. the chinese government, with a paternal solicitude for the welfare of its subjects, forbids the gods on the register to be reborn anywhere but in tibet. they fear lest the birth of a god in mongolia should have serious political consequences by stirring the dormant patriotism and warlike spirit of the mongols, who might rally round an ambitious native deity of royal lineage and seek to win for him, at the point of the sword, a temporal as well as a spiritual kingdom. but besides these public or licensed gods there are a great many little private gods, or unlicensed practitioners of divinity, who work miracles and bless their people in holes and corners; and of late years the chinese government has winked at the rebirth of these pettifogging deities outside of tibet. however, once they are born, the government keeps its eye on them as well as on the regular practitioners, and if any of them misbehaves he is promptly degraded, banished to a distant monastery, and strictly forbidden ever to be born again in the flesh. from our survey of the religious position occupied by the king in rude societies we may infer that the claim to divine and supernatural powers put forward by the monarchs of great historical empires like those of egypt, mexico, and peru, was not the simple outcome of inflated vanity or the empty expression of a grovelling adulation; it was merely a survival and extension of the old savage apotheosis of living kings. thus, for example, as children of the sun the incas of peru were revered like gods; they could do no wrong, and no one dreamed of offending against the person, honour, or property of the monarch or of any of the royal race. hence, too, the incas did not, like most people, look on sickness as an evil. they considered it a messenger sent from their father the sun to call them to come and rest with him in heaven. therefore the usual words in which an inca announced his approaching end were these: "my father calls me to come and rest with him." they would not oppose their father's will by offering sacrifice for recovery, but openly declared that he had called them to his rest. issuing from the sultry valleys upon the lofty tableland of the colombian andes, the spanish conquerors were astonished to find, in contrast to the savage hordes they had left in the sweltering jungles below, a people enjoying a fair degree of civilisation, practising agriculture, and living under a government which humboldt has compared to the theocracies of tibet and japan. these were the chibchas, muyscas, or mozcas, divided into two kingdoms, with capitals at bogota and tunja, but united apparently in spiritual allegiance to the high pontiff of sogamozo or iraca. by a long and ascetic novitiate, this ghostly ruler was reputed to have acquired such sanctity that the waters and the rain obeyed him, and the weather depended on his will. the mexican kings at their accession, as we have seen, took an oath that they would make the sun to shine, the clouds to give rain, the rivers to flow, and the earth to bring forth fruits in abundance. we are told that montezuma, the last king of mexico, was worshipped by his people as a god. the early babylonian kings, from the time of sargon i. till the fourth dynasty of ur or later, claimed to be gods in their lifetime. the monarchs of the fourth dynasty of ur in particular had temples built in their honour; they set up their statues in various sanctuaries and commanded the people to sacrifice to them; the eighth month was especially dedicated to the kings, and sacrifices were offered to them at the new moon and on the fifteenth of each month. again, the parthian monarchs of the arsacid house styled themselves brothers of the sun and moon and were worshipped as deities. it was esteemed sacrilege to strike even a private member of the arsacid family in a brawl. the kings of egypt were deified in their lifetime, sacrifices were offered to them, and their worship was celebrated in special temples and by special priests. indeed the worship of the kings sometimes cast that of the gods into the shade. thus in the reign of merenra a high official declared that he had built many holy places in order that the spirits of the king, the ever-living merenra, might be invoked "more than all the gods." "it has never been doubted that the king claimed actual divinity; he was the 'great god,' the'golden horus,' and son of ra. he claimed authority not only over egypt, but over'all lands and nations,''the whole world in its length and its breadth, the east and the west,''the entire compass of the great circuit of the sun,''the sky and what is in it, the earth and all that is upon it,''every creature that walks upon two or upon four legs, all that fly or flutter, the whole world offers her productions to him.' whatever in fact might be asserted of the sun-god, was dogmatically predicable of the king of egypt. his titles were directly derived from those of the sun-god." "in the course of his existence," we are told, "the king of egypt exhausted all the possible conceptions of divinity which the egyptians had framed for themselves. a superhuman god by his birth and by his royal office, he became the deified man after his death. thus all that was known of the divine was summed up in him." we have now completed our sketch, for it is no more than a sketch, of the evolution of that sacred kingship which attained its highest form, its most absolute expression, in the monarchies of peru and egypt. historically, the institution appears to have originated in the order of public magicians or medicine-men; logically it rests on a mistaken deduction from the association of ideas. men mistook the order of their ideas for the order of nature, and hence imagined that the control which they have, or seem to have, over their thoughts, permitted them to exercise a corresponding control over things. the men who for one reason or another, because of the strength or the weakness of their natural parts, were supposed to possess these magical powers in the highest degree, were gradually marked off from their fellows and became a separate class, who were destined to exercise a most far-reaching influence on the political, religious, and intellectual evolution of mankind. social progress, as we know, consists mainly in a successive differentiation of functions, or, in simpler language, a division of labour. the work which in primitive society is done by all alike and by all equally ill, or nearly so, is gradually distributed among different classes of workers and executed more and more perfectly; and so far as the products, material or immaterial, of this specialised labour are shared by all, the whole community benefits by the increasing specialisation. now magicians or medicine-men appear to constitute the oldest artificial or professional class in the evolution of society. for sorcerers are found in every savage tribe known to us; and among the lowest savages, such as the australian aborigines, they are the only professional class that exists. as time goes on, and the process of differentiation continues, the order of medicine-men is itself subdivided into such classes as the healers of disease, the makers of rain, and so forth; while the most powerful member of the order wins for himself a position as chief and gradually develops into a sacred king, his old magical functions falling more and more into the background and being exchanged for priestly or even divine duties, in proportion as magic is slowly ousted by religion. still later, a partition is effected between the civil and the religious aspect of the kingship, the temporal power being committed to one man and the spiritual to another. meanwhile the magicians, who may be repressed but cannot be extirpated by the predominance of religion, still addict themselves to their old occult arts in preference to the newer ritual of sacrifice and prayer; and in time the more sagacious of their number perceive the fallacy of magic and hit upon a more effectual mode of manipulating the forces of nature for the good of man; in short, they abandon sorcery for science. i am far from affirming that the course of development has everywhere rigidly followed these lines: it has doubtless varied greatly in different societies. i merely mean to indicate in the broadest outline what i conceive to have been its general trend. regarded from the industrial point of view the evolution has been from uniformity to diversity of function: regarded from the political point of view, it has been from democracy to despotism. with the later history of monarchy, especially with the decay of despotism and its displacement by forms of government better adapted to the higher needs of humanity, we are not concerned in this enquiry: our theme is the growth, not the decay, of a great and, in its time, beneficent institution. viii. departmental kings of nature the preceding investigation has proved that the same union of sacred functions with a royal title which meets us in the king of the wood at nemi, the sacrificial king at rome, and the magistrate called the king at athens, occurs frequently outside the limits of classical antiquity and is a common feature of societies at all stages from barbarism to civilisation. further, it appears that the royal priest is often a king, not only in name but in fact, swaying the sceptre as well as the crosier. all this confirms the traditional view of the origin of the titular and priestly kings in the republics of ancient greece and italy. at least by showing that the combination of spiritual and temporal power, of which graeco-italian tradition preserved the memory, has actually existed in many places, we have obviated any suspicion of improbability that might have attached to the tradition. therefore we may now fairly ask, may not the king of the wood have had an origin like that which a probable tradition assigns to the sacrificial king of rome and the titular king of athens? in other words, may not his predecessors in office have been a line of kings whom a republican revolution stripped of their political power, leaving them only their religious functions and the shadow of a crown? there are at least two reasons for answering this question in the negative. one reason is drawn from the abode of the priest of nemi; the other from his title, the king of the wood. if his predecessors had been kings in the ordinary sense, he would surely have been found residing, like the fallen kings of rome and athens, in the city of which the sceptre had passed from him. this city must have been aricia, for there was none nearer. but aricia was three miles off from his forest sanctuary by the lake shore. if he reigned, it was not in the city, but in the greenwood. again his title, king of the wood, hardly allows us to suppose that he had ever been a king in the common sense of the word. more likely he was a king of nature, and of a special side of nature, namely, the woods from which he took his title. if we could find instances of what we may call departmental kings of nature, that is of persons supposed to rule over particular elements or aspects of nature, they would probably present a closer analogy to the king of the wood than the divine kings we have been hitherto considering, whose control of nature is general rather than special. instances of such departmental kings are not wanting. on a hill at bomma near the mouth of the congo dwells namvulu vumu, king of the rain and storm. of some of the tribes on the upper nile we are told that they have no kings in the common sense; the only persons whom they acknowledge as such are the kings of the rain, _mata kodou,_ who are credited with the power of giving rain at the proper time, that is, the rainy season. before the rains begin to fall at the end of march the country is a parched and arid desert; and the cattle, which form the people's chief wealth, perish for lack of grass. so, when the end of march draws on, each householder betakes himself to the king of the rain and offers him a cow that he may make the blessed waters of heaven to drip on the brown and withered pastures. if no shower falls, the people assemble and demand that the king shall give them rain; and if the sky still continues cloudless, they rip up his belly, in which he is believed to keep the storms. amongst the bari tribe one of these rain kings made rain by sprinkling water on the ground out of a handbell. among tribes on the outskirts of abyssinia a similar office exists and has been thus described by an observer: "the priesthood of the alfai, as he is called by the barea and kunama, is a remarkable one; he is believed to be able to make rain. this office formerly existed among the algeds and appears to be still common to the nuba negroes. the alfai of the barea, who is also consulted by the northern kunama, lives near tembadere on a mountain alone with his family. the people bring him tribute in the form of clothes and fruits, and cultivate for him a large field of his own. he is a kind of king, and his office passes by inheritance to his brother or sister's son. he is supposed to conjure down rain and to drive away the locusts. but if he disappoints the people's expectation and a great drought arises in the land, the alfai is stoned to death, and his nearest relations are obliged to cast the first stone at him. when we passed through the country, the office of alfai was still held by an old man; but i heard that rain-making had proved too dangerous for him and that he had renounced his office." in the backwoods of cambodia live two mysterious sovereigns known as the king of the fire and the king of the water. their fame is spread all over the south of the great indo-chinese peninsula; but only a faint echo of it has reached the west. down to a few years ago no european, so far as is known, had ever seen either of them; and their very existence might have passed for a fable, were it not that till lately communications were regularly maintained between them and the king of cambodia, who year by year exchanged presents with them. their royal functions are of a purely mystic or spiritual order; they have no political authority; they are simple peasants, living by the sweat of their brow and the offerings of the faithful. according to one account they live in absolute solitude, never meeting each other and never seeing a human face. they inhabit successively seven towers perched upon seven mountains, and every year they pass from one tower to another. people come furtively and cast within their reach what is needful for their subsistence. the kingship lasts seven years, the time necessary to inhabit all the towers successively; but many die before their time is out. the offices are hereditary in one or (according to others) two royal families, who enjoy high consideration, have revenues assigned to them, and are exempt from the necessity of tilling the ground. but naturally the dignity is not coveted, and when a vacancy occurs, all eligible men (they must be strong and have children) flee and hide themselves. another account, admitting the reluctance of the hereditary candidates to accept the crown, does not countenance the report of their hermit-like seclusion in the seven towers. for it represents the people as prostrating themselves before the mystic kings whenever they appear in public, it being thought that a terrible hurricane would burst over the country if this mark of homage were omitted. like many other sacred kings, of whom we shall read in the sequel, the kings of fire and water are not allowed to die a natural death, for that would lower their reputation. accordingly when one of them is seriously ill, the elders hold a consultation and if they think he cannot recover they stab him to death. his body is burned and the ashes are piously collected and publicly honoured for five years. part of them is given to the widow, and she keeps them in an urn, which she must carry on her back when she goes to weep on her husband's grave. we are told that the fire king, the more important of the two, whose supernatural powers have never been questioned, officiates at marriages, festivals, and sacrifices in honour of the _yan_ or spirit. on these occasions a special place is set apart for him; and the path by which he approaches is spread with white cotton cloths. a reason for confining the royal dignity to the same family is that this family is in possession of certain famous talismans which would lose their virtue or disappear if they passed out of the family. these talismans are three: the fruit of a creeper called _cui,_ gathered ages ago at the time of the last deluge, but still fresh and green; a rattan, also very old but bearing flowers that never fade; and lastly, a sword containing a _yan_ or spirit, who guards it constantly and works miracles with it. the spirit is said to be that of a slave, whose blood chanced to fall upon the blade while it was being forged, and who died a voluntary death to expiate his involuntary offence. by means of the two former talismans the water king can raise a flood that would drown the whole earth. if the fire king draws the magic sword a few inches from its sheath, the sun is hidden and men and beasts fall into a profound sleep; were he to draw it quite out of the scabbard, the world would come to an end. to this wondrous brand sacrifices of buffaloes, pigs, fowls, and ducks are offered for rain. it is kept swathed in cotton and silk; and amongst the annual presents sent by the king of cambodia were rich stuffs to wrap the sacred sword. contrary to the common usage of the country, which is to bury the dead, the bodies of both these mystic monarchs are burnt, but their nails and some of their teeth and bones are religiously preserved as amulets. it is while the corpse is being consumed on the pyre that the kinsmen of the deceased magician flee to the forest and hide themselves, for fear of being elevated to the invidious dignity which he has just vacated. the people go and search for them, and the first whose lurking place they discover is made king of fire or water. these, then, are examples of what i have called departmental kings of nature. but it is a far cry to italy from the forests of cambodia and the sources of the nile. and though kings of rain, water, and fire have been found, we have still to discover a king of the wood to match the arician priest who bore that title. perhaps we shall find him nearer home. ix. the worship of trees . tree-spirits in the religious history of the aryan race in europe the worship of trees has played an important part. nothing could be more natural. for at the dawn of history europe was covered with immense primaeval forests, in which the scattered clearings must have appeared like islets in an ocean of green. down to the first century before our era the hercynian forest stretched eastward from the rhine for a distance at once vast and unknown; germans whom caesar questioned had travelled for two months through it without reaching the end. four centuries later it was visited by the emperor julian, and the solitude, the gloom, the silence of the forest appear to have made a deep impression on his sensitive nature. he declared that he knew nothing like it in the roman empire. in our own country the wealds of kent, surrey, and sussex are remnants of the great forest of anderida, which once clothed the whole of the south-eastern portion of the island. westward it seems to have stretched till it joined another forest that extended from hampshire to devon. in the reign of henry ii. the citizens of london still hunted the wild bull and the boar in the woods of hampstead. even under the later plantagenets the royal forests were sixty-eight in number. in the forest of arden it was said that down to modern times a squirrel might leap from tree to tree for nearly the whole length of warwickshire. the excavation of ancient pile-villages in the valley of the po has shown that long before the rise and probably the foundation of rome the north of italy was covered with dense woods of elms, chestnuts, and especially of oaks. archaeology is here confirmed by history; for classical writers contain many references to italian forests which have now disappeared. as late as the fourth century before our era rome was divided from central etruria by the dreaded ciminian forest, which livy compares to the woods of germany. no merchant, if we may trust the roman historian, had ever penetrated its pathless solitudes; and it was deemed a most daring feat when a roman general, after sending two scouts to explore its intricacies, led his army into the forest and, making his way to a ridge of the wooded mountains, looked down on the rich etrurian fields spread out below. in greece beautiful woods of pine, oak, and other trees still linger on the slopes of the high arcadian mountains, still adorn with their verdure the deep gorge through which the ladon hurries to join the sacred alpheus, and were still, down to a few years ago, mirrored in the dark blue waters of the lonely lake of pheneus; but they are mere fragments of the forests which clothed great tracts in antiquity, and which at a more remote epoch may have spanned the greek peninsula from sea to sea. from an examination of the teutonic words for "temple" grimm has made it probable that amongst the germans the oldest sanctuaries were natural woods. however that may be, tree-worship is well attested for all the great european families of the aryan stock. amongst the celts the oak-worship of the druids is familiar to every one, and their old word for sanctuary seems to be identical in origin and meaning with the latin _nemus,_ a grove or woodland glade, which still survives in the name of nemi. sacred groves were common among the ancient germans, and tree-worship is hardly extinct amongst their descendants at the present day. how serious that worship was in former times may be gathered from the ferocious penalty appointed by the old german laws for such as dared to peel the bark of a standing tree. the culprit's navel was to be cut out and nailed to the part of the tree which he had peeled, and he was to be driven round and round the tree till all his guts were wound about its trunk. the intention of the punishment clearly was to replace the dead bark by a living substitute taken from the culprit; it was a life for a life, the life of a man for the life of a tree. at upsala, the old religious capital of sweden, there was a sacred grove in which every tree was regarded as divine. the heathen slavs worshipped trees and groves. the lithuanians were not converted to christianity till towards the close of the fourteenth century, and amongst them at the date of their conversion the worship of trees was prominent. some of them revered remarkable oaks and other great shady trees, from which they received oracular responses. some maintained holy groves about their villages or houses, where even to break a twig would have been a sin. they thought that he who cut a bough in such a grove either died suddenly or was crippled in one of his limbs. proofs of the prevalence of tree-worship in ancient greece and italy are abundant. in the sanctuary of aesculapius at cos, for example, it was forbidden to cut down the cypress-trees under a penalty of a thousand drachms. but nowhere, perhaps, in the ancient world was this antique form of religion better preserved than in the heart of the great metropolis itself. in the forum, the busy centre of roman life, the sacred fig-tree of romulus was worshipped down to the days of the empire, and the withering of its trunk was enough to spread consternation through the city. again, on the slope of the palatine hill grew a cornel-tree which was esteemed one of the most sacred objects in rome. whenever the tree appeared to a passer-by to be drooping, he set up a hue and cry which was echoed by the people in the street, and soon a crowd might be seen running helter-skelter from all sides with buckets of water, as if (says plutarch) they were hastening to put out a fire. among the tribes of the finnish-ugrian stock in europe the heathen worship was performed for the most part in sacred groves, which were always enclosed with a fence. such a grove often consisted merely of a glade or clearing with a few trees dotted about, upon which in former times the skins of the sacrificial victims were hung. the central point of the grove, at least among the tribes of the volga, was the sacred tree, beside which everything else sank into insignificance. before it the worshippers assembled and the priest offered his prayers, at its roots the victim was sacrificed, and its boughs sometimes served as a pulpit. no wood might be hewn and no branch broken in the grove, and women were generally forbidden to enter it. but it is necessary to examine in some detail the notions on which the worship of trees and plants is based. to the savage the world in general is animate, and trees and plants are no exception to the rule. he thinks that they have souls like his own, and he treats them accordingly. "they say," writes the ancient vegetarian porphyry, "that primitive men led an unhappy life, for their superstition did not stop at animals but extended even to plants. for why should the slaughter of an ox or a sheep be a greater wrong than the felling of a fir or an oak, seeing that a soul is implanted in these trees also?" similarly, the hidatsa indians of north america believe that every natural object has its spirit, or to speak more properly, its shade. to these shades some consideration or respect is due, but not equally to all. for example, the shade of the cottonwood, the greatest tree in the valley of the upper missouri, is supposed to possess an intelligence which, if properly approached, may help the indians in certain undertakings; but the shades of shrubs and grasses are of little account. when the missouri, swollen by a freshet in spring, carries away part of its banks and sweeps some tall tree into its current, it is said that the spirit of the tree cries, while the roots still cling to the land and until the trunk falls with a splash into the stream. formerly the indians considered it wrong to fell one of these giants, and when large logs were needed they made use only of trees which had fallen of themselves. till lately some of the more credulous old men declared that many of the misfortunes of their people were caused by this modern disregard for the rights of the living cottonwood. the iroquois believed that each species of tree, shrub, plant, and herb had its own spirit, and to these spirits it was their custom to return thanks. the wanika of eastern africa fancy that every tree, and especially every coco-nut tree, has its spirit; "the destruction of a cocoa-nut tree is regarded as equivalent to matricide, because that tree gives them life and nourishment, as a mother does her child." siamese monks, believing that there are souls everywhere, and that to destroy anything whatever is forcibly to dispossess a soul, will not break a branch of a tree, "as they will not break the arm of an innocent person." these monks, of course, are buddhists. but buddhist animism is not a philosophical theory. it is simply a common savage dogma incorporated in the system of an historical religion. to suppose, with benfey and others, that the theories of animism and transmigration current among rude peoples of asia are derived from buddhism, is to reverse the facts. sometimes it is only particular sorts of trees that are supposed to be tenanted by spirits. at grbalj in dalmatia it is said that among great beeches, oaks, and other trees there are some that are endowed with shades or souls, and whoever fells one of them must die on the spot, or at least live an invalid for the rest of his days. if a woodman fears that a tree which he has felled is one of this sort, he must cut off the head of a live hen on the stump of the tree with the very same axe with which he cut down the tree. this will protect him from all harm, even if the tree be one of the animated kind. the silk-cotton trees, which rear their enormous trunks to a stupendous height, far out-topping all the other trees of the forest, are regarded with reverence throughout west africa, from the senegal to the niger, and are believed to be the abode of a god or spirit. among the ewespeaking peoples of the slave coast the indwelling god of this giant of the forest goes by the name of huntin. trees in which he specially dwells--for it is not every silk-cotton tree that he thus honours--are surrounded by a girdle of palm-leaves; and sacrifices of fowls, and occasionally of human beings, are fastened to the trunk or laid against the foot of the tree. a tree distinguished by a girdle of palm-leaves may not be cut down or injured in any way; and even silk-cotton trees which are not supposed to be animated by huntin may not be felled unless the woodman first offers a sacrifice of fowls and palm-oil to purge himself of the proposed sacrilege. to omit the sacrifice is an offence which may be punished with death. among the kangra mountains of the punjaub a girl used to be annually sacrificed to an old cedar-tree, the families of the village taking it in turn to supply the victim. the tree was cut down not very many years ago. if trees are animate, they are necessarily sensitive and the cutting of them down becomes a delicate surgical operation, which must be performed with as tender a regard as possible for the feelings of the sufferers, who otherwise may turn and rend the careless or bungling operator. when an oak is being felled "it gives a kind of shriekes or groanes, that may be heard a mile off, as if it were the genius of the oake lamenting. e. wyld, esq., hath heard it severall times." the ojebways "very seldom cut down green or living trees, from the idea that it puts them to pain, and some of their medicine-men profess to have heard the wailing of the trees under the axe." trees that bleed and utter cries of pain or indignation when they are hacked or burned occur very often in chinese books, even in standard histories. old peasants in some parts of austria still believe that forest-trees are animate, and will not allow an incision to be made in the bark without special cause; they have heard from their fathers that the tree feels the cut not less than a wounded man his hurt. in felling a tree they beg its pardon. it is said that in the upper palatinate also old woodmen still secretly ask a fine, sound tree to forgive them before they cut it down. so in jarkino the woodman craves pardon of the tree he fells. before the ilocanes of luzon cut down trees in the virgin forest or on the mountains, they recite some verses to the following effect: "be not uneasy, my friend, though we fell what we have been ordered to fell." this they do in order not to draw down on themselves the hatred of the spirits who live in the trees, and who are apt to avenge themselves by visiting with grievous sickness such as injure them wantonly. the basoga of central africa think that, when a tree is cut down, the angry spirit which inhabits it may cause the death of the chief and his family. to prevent this disaster they consult a medicine-man before they fell a tree. if the man of skill gives leave to proceed, the woodman first offers a fowl and a goat to the tree; then as soon as he has given the first blow with the axe, he applies his mouth to the cut and sucks some of the sap. in this way he forms a brotherhood with the tree, just as two men become blood-brothers by sucking each other's blood. after that he can cut down his tree-brother with impunity. but the spirits of vegetation are not always treated with deference and respect. if fair words and kind treatment do not move them, stronger measures are sometimes resorted to. the durian-tree of the east indies, whose smooth stem often shoots up to a height of eighty or ninety feet without sending out a branch, bears a fruit of the most delicious flavour and the most disgusting stench. the malays cultivate the tree for the sake of its fruit, and have been known to resort to a peculiar ceremony for the purpose of stimulating its fertility. near jugra in selangor there is a small grove of durian-trees, and on a specially chosen day the villagers used to assemble in it. thereupon one of the local sorcerers would take a hatchet and deliver several shrewd blows on the trunk of the most barren of the trees, saying, "will you now bear fruit or not? if you do not, i shall fell you." to this the tree replied through the mouth of another man who had climbed a mangostin-tree hard by (the durian-tree being unclimbable), "yes, i will now bear fruit; i beg of you not to fell me." so in japan to make trees bear fruit two men go into an orchard. one of them climbs up a tree and the other stands at the foot with an axe. the man with the axe asks the tree whether it will yield a good crop next year and threatens to cut it down if it does not. to this the man among the branches replies on behalf of the tree that it will bear abundantly. odd as this mode of horticulture may seem to us, it has its exact parallels in europe. on christmas eve many a south slavonian and bulgarian peasant swings an axe threateningly against a barren fruit-tree, while another man standing by intercedes for the menaced tree, saying, "do not cut it down; it will soon bear fruit." thrice the axe is swung, and thrice the impending blow is arrested at the entreaty of the intercessor. after that the frightened tree will certainly bear fruit next year. the conception of trees and plants as animated beings naturally results in treating them as male and female, who can be married to each other in a real, and not merely a figurative or poetical, sense of the word. the notion is not purely fanciful, for plants like animals have their sexes and reproduce their kind by the union of the male and female elements. but whereas in all the higher animals the organs of the two sexes are regularly separated between different individuals, in most plants they exist together in every individual of the species. this rule, however, is by no means universal, and in many species the male plant is distinct from the female. the distinction appears to have been observed by some savages, for we are told that the maoris "are acquainted with the sex of trees, etc., and have distinct names for the male and female of some trees." the ancients knew the difference between the male and the female date-palm, and fertilised them artificially by shaking the pollen of the male tree over the flowers of the female. the fertilisation took place in spring. among the heathen of harran the month during which the palms were fertilised bore the name of the date month, and at this time they celebrated the marriage festival of all the gods and goddesses. different from this true and fruitful marriage of the palm are the false and barren marriages of plants which play a part in hindoo superstition. for example, if a hindoo has planted a grove of mangos, neither he nor his wife may taste of the fruit until he has formally married one of the trees, as a bridegroom, to a tree of a different sort, commonly a tamarind-tree, which grows near it in the grove. if there is no tamarind to act as bride, a jasmine will serve the turn. the expenses of such a marriage are often considerable, for the more brahmans are feasted at it, the greater the glory of the owner of the grove. a family has been known to sell its golden and silver trinkets, and to borrow all the money they could in order to marry a mango-tree to a jasmine with due pomp and ceremony. on christmas eve german peasants used to tie fruit-trees together with straw ropes to make them bear fruit, saying that the trees were thus married. in the moluccas, when the clove-trees are in blossom, they are treated like pregnant women. no noise may be made near them; no light or fire may be carried past them at night; no one may approach them with his hat on, all must uncover in their presence. these precautions are observed lest the tree should be alarmed and bear no fruit, or should drop its fruit too soon, like the untimely delivery of a woman who has been frightened in her pregnancy. so in the east the growing rice-crop is often treated with the same considerate regard as a breeding woman. thus in amboyna, when the rice is in bloom, the people say that it is pregnant and fire no guns and make no other noises near the field, for fear lest, if the rice were thus disturbed, it would miscarry, and the crop would be all straw and no grain. sometimes it is the souls of the dead which are believed to animate trees. the dieri tribe of central australia regard as very sacred certain trees which are supposed to be their fathers transformed; hence they speak with reverence of these trees, and are careful that they shall not be cut down or burned. if the settlers require them to hew down the trees, they earnestly protest against it, asserting that were they to do so they would have no luck, and might be punished for not protecting their ancestors. some of the philippine islanders believe that the souls of their ancestors are in certain trees, which they therefore spare. if they are obliged to fell one of these trees, they excuse themselves to it by saying that it was the priest who made them do it. the spirits take up their abode, by preference, in tall and stately trees with great spreading branches. when the wind rustles the leaves, the natives fancy it is the voice of the spirit; and they never pass near one of these trees without bowing respectfully, and asking pardon of the spirit for disturbing his repose. among the ignorrotes, every village has its sacred tree, in which the souls of the dead forefathers of the hamlet reside. offerings are made to the tree, and any injury done to it is believed to entail some misfortune on the village. were the tree cut down, the village and all its inhabitants would inevitably perish. in corea the souls of people who die of the plague or by the roadside, and of women who expire in childbirth, invariably take up their abode in trees. to such spirits offerings of cake, wine, and pork are made on heaps of stones piled under the trees. in china it has been customary from time immemorial to plant trees on graves in order thereby to strengthen the soul of the deceased and thus to save his body from corruption; and as the evergreen cypress and pine are deemed to be fuller of vitality than other trees, they have been chosen by preference for this purpose. hence the trees that grow on graves are sometimes identified with the souls of the departed. among the miao-kia, an aboriginal race of southern and western china, a sacred tree stands at the entrance of every village, and the inhabitants believe that it is tenanted by the soul of their first ancestor and that it rules their destiny. sometimes there is a sacred grove near a village, where the trees are suffered to rot and die on the spot. their fallen branches cumber the ground, and no one may remove them unless he has first asked leave of the spirit of the tree and offered him a sacrifice. among the maraves of southern africa the burial-ground is always regarded as a holy place where neither a tree may be felled nor a beast killed, because everything there is supposed to be tenanted by the souls of the dead. in most, if not all, of these cases the spirit is viewed as incorporate in the tree; it animates the tree and must suffer and die with it. but, according to another and probably later opinion, the tree is not the body, but merely the abode of the tree-spirit, which can quit it and return to it at pleasure. the inhabitants of siaoo, an east indian island, believe in certain sylvan spirits who dwell in forests or in great solitary trees. at full moon the spirit comes forth from his lurking-place and roams about. he has a big head, very long arms and legs, and a ponderous body. in order to propitiate the wood-spirits people bring offerings of food, fowls, goats, and so forth to the places which they are supposed to haunt. the people of nias think that, when a tree dies, its liberated spirit becomes a demon, which can kill a coco-nut palm by merely lighting on its branches, and can cause the death of all the children in a house by perching on one of the posts that support it. further, they are of opinion that certain trees are at all times inhabited by roving demons who, if the trees were damaged, would be set free to go about on errands of mischief. hence the people respect these trees, and are careful not to cut them down. not a few ceremonies observed at cutting down haunted trees are based on the belief that the spirits have it in their power to quit the trees at pleasure or in case of need. thus when the pelew islanders are felling a tree, they conjure the spirit of the tree to leave it and settle on another. the wily negro of the slave coast, who wishes to fell an _ashorin_ tree, but knows that he cannot do it so long as the spirit remains in the tree, places a little palm-oil on the ground as a bait, and then, when the unsuspecting spirit has quitted the tree to partake of this dainty, hastens to cut down its late abode. when the toboongkoos of celebes are about to clear a piece of forest in order to plant rice, they build a tiny house and furnish it with tiny clothes and some food and gold. then they call together all the spirits of the wood, offer them the little house with its contents, and beseech them to quit the spot. after that they may safely cut down the wood without fearing to wound themselves in so doing. before the tomori, another tribe of celebes, fell a tall tree they lay a quid of betel at its foot, and invite the spirit who dwells in the tree to change his lodging; moreover, they set a little ladder against the trunk to enable him to descend with safety and comfort. the mandelings of sumatra endeavour to lay the blame of all such misdeeds at the door of the dutch authorities. thus when a man is cutting a road through a forest and has to fell a tall tree which blocks the way, he will not begin to ply his axe until he has said: "spirit who lodgest in this tree, take it not ill that i cut down thy dwelling, for it is done at no wish of mine but by order of the controller." and when he wishes to clear a piece of forest-land for cultivation, it is necessary that he should come to a satisfactory understanding with the woodland spirits who live there before he lays low their leafy dwellings. for this purpose he goes to the middle of the plot of ground, stoops down, and pretends to pick up a letter. then unfolding a bit of paper he reads aloud an imaginary letter from the dutch government, in which he is strictly enjoined to set about clearing the land without delay. having done so, he says: "you hear that, spirits. i must begin clearing at once, or i shall be hanged." even when a tree has been felled, sawn into planks, and used to build a house, it is possible that the woodland spirit may still be lurking in the timber, and accordingly some people seek to propitiate him before or after they occupy the new house. hence, when a new dwelling is ready the toradjas of celebes kill a goat, a pig, or a buffalo, and smear all the woodwork with its blood. if the building is a _lobo_ or spirit-house, a fowl or a dog is killed on the ridge of the roof, and its blood allowed to flow down on both sides. the ruder tonapoo in such a case sacrifice a human being on the roof. this sacrifice on the roof of a _lobo_ or temple serves the same purpose as the smearing of blood on the woodwork of an ordinary house. the intention is to propitiate the forest-spirits who may still be in the timber; they are thus put in good humour and will do the inmates of the house no harm. for a like reason people in celebes and the moluccas are much afraid of planting a post upside down at the building of a house; for the forest-spirit, who might still be in the timber, would very naturally resent the indignity and visit the inmates with sickness. the kayans of borneo are of opinion that tree-spirits stand very stiffly on the point of honour and visit men with their displeasure for any injury done to them. hence after building a house, whereby they have been forced to ill-treat many trees, these people observe a period of penance for a year during which they must abstain from many things, such as the killing of bears, tiger-cats, and serpents. . beneficent powers of tree-spirits when a tree comes to be viewed, no longer as the body of the tree-spirit, but simply as its abode which it can quit at pleasure, an important advance has been made in religious thought. animism is passing into polytheism. in other words, instead of regarding each tree as a living and conscious being, man now sees in it merely a lifeless, inert mass, tenanted for a longer or shorter time by a supernatural being who, as he can pass freely from tree to tree, thereby enjoys a certain right of possession or lordship over the trees, and, ceasing to be a tree-soul, becomes a forest god. as soon as the tree-spirit is thus in a measure disengaged from each particular tree, he begins to change his shape and assume the body of a man, in virtue of a general tendency of early thought to clothe all abstract spiritual beings in concrete human form. hence in classical art the sylvan deities are depicted in human shape, their woodland character being denoted by a branch or some equally obvious symbol. but this change of shape does not affect the essential character of the tree-spirit. the powers which he exercised as a tree-soul incorporate in a tree, he still continues to wield as a god of trees. this i shall now attempt to prove in detail. i shall show, first, that trees considered as animate beings are credited with the power of making the rain to fall, the sun to shine, flocks and herds to multiply, and women to bring forth easily; and, second, that the very same powers are attributed to tree-gods conceived as anthropomorphic beings or as actually incarnate in living men. first, then, trees or tree-spirits are believed to give rain and sunshine. when the missionary jerome of prague was persuading the heathen lithuanians to fell their sacred groves, a multitude of women besought the prince of lithuania to stop him, saying that with the woods he was destroying the house of god from which they had been wont to get rain and sunshine. the mundaris in assam think that if a tree in the sacred grove is felled the sylvan gods evince their displeasure by withholding rain. in order to procure rain the inhabitants of monyo, a village in the sagaing district of upper burma, chose the largest tamarind-tree near the village and named it the haunt of the spirit (_nat_) who controls the rain. then they offered bread, coco-nuts, plantains, and fowls to the guardian spirit of the village and to the spirit who gives rain, and they prayed, "o lord _nat_ have pity on us poor mortals, and stay not the rain. inasmuch as our offering is given ungrudgingly, let the rain fall day and night." afterwards libations were made in honour of the spirit of the tamarind-tree; and still later three elderly women, dressed in fine clothes and wearing necklaces and earrings, sang the rain song. again, tree-spirits make the crops to grow. amongst the mundaris every village has its sacred grove, and "the grove deities are held responsible for the crops, and are especially honoured at all the great agricultural festivals." the negroes of the gold coast are in the habit of sacrificing at the foot of certain tall trees, and they think that if one of these were felled all the fruits of the earth would perish. the gallas dance in couples round sacred trees, praying for a good harvest. every couple consists of a man and woman, who are linked together by a stick, of which each holds one end. under their arms they carry green corn or grass. swedish peasants stick a leafy branch in each furrow of their corn-fields, believing that this will ensure an abundant crop. the same idea comes out in the german and french custom of the harvest-may. this is a large branch or a whole tree, which is decked with ears of corn, brought home on the last waggon from the harvest-field, and fastened on the roof of the farmhouse or of the barn, where it remains for a year. mannhardt has proved that this branch or tree embodies the tree-spirit conceived as the spirit of vegetation in general, whose vivifying and fructifying influence is thus brought to bear upon the corn in particular. hence in swabia the harvest-may is fastened amongst the last stalks of corn left standing on the field; in other places it is planted on the corn-field and the last sheaf cut is attached to its trunk. again, the tree-spirit makes the herds to multiply and blesses women with offspring. in northern india the _emblica officinalis_ is a sacred tree. on the eleventh of the month phalgun (february) libations are poured at the foot of the tree, a red or yellow string is bound about the trunk, and prayers are offered to it for the fruitfulness of women, animals, and crops. again, in northern india the coco-nut is esteemed one of the most sacred fruits, and is called sriphala, or the fruit of sri, the goddess of prosperity. it is the symbol of fertility, and all through upper india is kept in shrines and presented by the priests to women who desire to become mothers. in the town of qua, near old calabar, there used to grow a palm-tree which ensured conception to any barren woman who ate a nut from its branches. in europe the may-tree or may-pole is apparently supposed to possess similar powers over both women and cattle. thus in some parts of germany on the first of may the peasants set up may-trees or may-bushes at the doors of stables and byres, one for each horse and cow; this is thought to make the cows yield much milk. of the irish we are told that "they fancy a green bough of a tree, fastened on may-day against the house, will produce plenty of milk that summer." on the second of july some of the wends used to set up an oak-tree in the middle of the village with an iron cock fastened to its top; then they danced round it, and drove the cattle round it to make them thrive. the circassians regard the pear-tree as the protector of cattle. so they cut down a young pear-tree in the forest, branch it, and carry it home, where it is adored as a divinity. almost every house has one such pear-tree. in autumn, on the day of the festival, the tree is carried into the house with great ceremony to the sound of music and amid the joyous cries of all the inmates, who compliment it on its fortunate arrival. it is covered with candles, and a cheese is fastened to its top. round about it they eat, drink, and sing. then they bid the tree good-bye and take it back to the courtyard, where it remains for the rest of the year, set up against the wall, without receiving any mark of respect. in the tuhoe tribe of maoris "the power of making women fruitful is ascribed to trees. these trees are associated with the navel-strings of definite mythical ancestors, as indeed the navel-strings of all children used to be hung upon them down to quite recent times. a barren woman had to embrace such a tree with her arms, and she received a male or a female child according as she embraced the east or the west side." the common european custom of placing a green bush on may day before or on the house of a beloved maiden probably originated in the belief of the fertilising power of the tree-spirit. in some parts of bavaria such bushes are set up also at the houses of newly-married pairs, and the practice is only omitted if the wife is near her confinement; for in that case they say that the husband has "set up a may-bush for himself." among the south slavonians a barren woman, who desires to have a child, places a new chemise upon a fruitful tree on the eve of st. george's day. next morning before sunrise she examines the garment, and if she finds that some living creature has crept on it, she hopes that her wish will be fulfilled within the year. then she puts on the chemise, confident that she will be as fruitful as the tree on which the garment has passed the night. among the kara-kirghiz barren women roll themselves on the ground under a solitary apple-tree, in order to obtain offspring. lastly, the power of granting to women an easy delivery at child-birth is ascribed to trees both in sweden and africa. in some districts of sweden there was formerly a _bardträd_ or guardian-tree (lime, ash, or elm) in the neighbourhood of every farm. no one would pluck a single leaf of the sacred tree, any injury to which was punished by ill-luck or sickness. pregnant women used to clasp the tree in their arms in order to ensure an easy delivery. in some negro tribes of the congo region pregnant women make themselves garments out of the bark of a certain sacred tree, because they believe that this tree delivers them from the dangers that attend child-bearing. the story that leto clasped a palm-tree and an olive-tree or two laurel-trees, when she was about to give birth to the divine twins apollo and artemis, perhaps points to a similar greek belief in the efficacy of certain trees to facilitate delivery. x. relics of tree worship in modern europe from the foregoing review of the beneficent qualities commonly ascribed to tree-spirits, it is easy to understand why customs like the may-tree or may-pole have prevailed so widely and figured so prominently in the popular festivals of european peasants. in spring or early summer or even on midsummer day, it was and still is in many parts of europe the custom to go out to the woods, cut down a tree and bring it into the village, where it is set up amid general rejoicings; or the people cut branches in the woods, and fasten them on every house. the intention of these customs is to bring home to the village, and to each house, the blessings which the tree-spirit has in its power to bestow. hence the custom in some places of planting a may-tree before every house, or of carrying the village may-tree from door to door, that every household may receive its share of the blessing. out of the mass of evidence on this subject a few examples may be selected. sir henry piers, in his _description of westmeath,_ writing in says: "on may-eve, every family sets up before their door a green bush, strewed over with yellow flowers, which the meadows yield plentifully. in countries where timber is plentiful, they erect tall slender trees, which stand high, and they continue almost the whole year; so as a stranger would go nigh to imagine that they were all signs of ale-sellers, and that all houses were ale-houses." in northamptonshire a young tree ten or twelve feet high used to be planted before each house on may day so as to appear growing; flowers were thrown over it and strewn about the door. "among ancient customs still retained by the cornish, may be reckoned that of decking their doors and porches on the first of may with green boughs of sycamore and hawthorn, and of planting trees, or rather stumps of trees, before their houses." in the north of england it was formerly the custom for young people to rise a little after midnight on the morning of the first of may, and go out with music and the blowing of horns into the woods, where they broke branches and adorned them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. this done, they returned about sunrise and fastened the flower-decked branches over the doors and windows of their houses. at abingdon in berkshire young people formerly went about in groups on may morning, singing a carol of which the following are two of the verses: "we've been rambling all the night, and sometime of this day; and now returning back again, we bring a garland gay. a garland gay we bring you here; and at your door we stand; it is a sprout well budded out, the work of our lord's hand." at the towns of saffron walden and debden in essex on the first of may little girls go about in parties from door to door singing a song almost identical with the above and carrying garlands; a doll dressed in white is usually placed in the middle of each garland. similar customs have been and indeed are still observed in various parts of england. the garlands are generally in the form of hoops intersecting each other at right angles. it appears that a hoop wreathed with rowan and marsh marigold, and bearing suspended within it two balls, is still carried on may day by villagers in some parts of ireland. the balls, which are sometimes covered with gold and silver paper, are said to have originally represented the sun and moon. in some villages of the vosges mountains on the first sunday of may young girls go in bands from house to house, singing a song in praise of may, in which mention is made of the "bread and meal that come in may." if money is given them, they fasten a green bough to the door; if it is refused, they wish the family many children and no bread to feed them. in the french department of mayenne, boys who bore the name of _maillotins_ used to go about from farm to farm on the first of may singing carols, for which they received money or a drink; they planted a small tree or a branch of a tree. near saverne in alsace bands of people go about carrying may-trees. amongst them is a man dressed in a white shirt with his face blackened; in front of him is carried a large may-tree, but each member of the band also carries a smaller one. one of the company bears a huge basket, in which he collects eggs, bacon, and so forth. on the thursday before whitsunday the russian villagers "go out into the woods, sing songs, weave garlands, and cut down a young birch-tree, which they dress up in woman's clothes, or adorn with many-coloured shreds and ribbons. after that comes a feast, at the end of which they take the dressed-up birch-tree, carry it home to their village with joyful dance and song, and set it up in one of the houses, where it remains as an honoured guest till whitsunday. on the two intervening days they pay visits to the house where their 'guest' is; but on the third day, whitsunday, they take her to a stream and fling her into its waters," throwing their garlands after her. in this russian custom the dressing of the birch in woman's clothes shows how clearly the tree is personified; and the throwing it into a stream is most probably a raincharm. in some parts of sweden on the eve of may day lads go about carrying each a bunch of fresh birch twigs wholly or partly in leaf. with the village fiddler at their head, they make the round of the houses singing may songs; the burden of their songs is a prayer for fine weather, a plentiful harvest, and worldly and spiritual blessings. one of them carries a basket in which he collects gifts of eggs and the like. if they are well received, they stick a leafy twig in the roof over the cottage door. but in sweden midsummer is the season when these ceremonies are chiefly observed. on the eve of st. john (the twenty-third of june) the houses are thoroughly cleansed and garnished with green boughs and flowers. young fir-trees are raised at the doorway and elsewhere about the homestead; and very often small umbrageous arbours are constructed in the garden. in stockholm on this day a leaf-market is held at which thousands of may-poles (_maj stanger_), from six inches to twelve feet high, decorated with leaves, flowers, slips of coloured paper, gilt egg-shells strung on reeds, and so on, are exposed for sale. bonfires are lit on the hills, and the people dance round them and jump over them. but the chief event of the day is setting up the may-pole. this consists of a straight and tall sprucepine tree, stripped of its branches. "at times hoops and at others pieces of wood, placed crosswise, are attached to it at intervals; whilst at others it is provided with bows, representing, so to say, a man with his arms akimbo. from top to bottom not only the 'maj stang' (may-pole) itself, but the hoops, bows, etc., are ornamented with leaves, flowers, slips of various cloth, gilt egg-shells, etc.; and on the top of it is a large vane, or it may be a flag." the raising of the may-pole, the decoration of which is done by the village maidens, is an affair of much ceremony; the people flock to it from all quarters, and dance round it in a great ring. midsummer customs of the same sort used to be observed in some parts of germany. thus in the towns of the upper harz mountains tall fir-trees, with the bark peeled off their lower trunks, were set up in open places and decked with flowers and eggs, which were painted yellow and red. round these trees the young folk danced by day and the old folk in the evening. in some parts of bohemia also a may-pole or midsummer-tree is erected on st. john's eve. the lads fetch a tall fir or pine from the wood and set it up on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, garlands, and red ribbons. it is afterwards burned. it would be needless to illustrate at length the custom, which has prevailed in various parts of europe, such as england, france, and germany, of setting up a village may-tree or may-pole on may day. a few examples will suffice. the puritanical writer phillip stubbes in his _anatomie of abuses,_ first published at london in , has described with manifest disgust how they used to bring in the may-pole in the days of good queen bess. his description affords us a vivid glimpse of merry england in the olden time. "against may, whitsonday, or other time, all the yung men and maides, olde men and wives, run gadding over night to the woods, groves, hils, and mountains, where they spend all the night in plesant pastimes; and in the morning they return, bringing with them birch and branches of trees, to deck their assemblies withall. and no mervaile, for there is a great lord present amongst them, as superintendent and lord over their pastimes and sportes, namely, sathan, prince of hel. but the chiefest jewel they bring from thence is their may-pole, which they bring home with great veneration, as thus. they have twentie or fortie yoke of oxen, every oxe having a sweet nose-gay of flouers placed on the tip of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home this may-pole (this stinkyng ydol, rather), which is covered all over with floures and hearbs, bound round about with strings, from the top to the bottome, and sometime painted with variable colours, with two or three hundred men, women and children following it with great devotion. and thus beeing reared up, with handkercheefs and flags hovering on the top, they straw the ground rounde about, binde green boughes about it, set up sommer haules, bowers, and arbors hard by it. and then fall they to daunce about it, like as the heathen people did at the dedication of the idols, whereof this is a perfect pattern, or rather the thing itself. i have heard it credibly reported (and that _viva voce_) by men of great gravitie and reputation, that of fortie, threescore, or a hundred maides going to the wood over night, there have scaresly the third part of them returned home againe undefiled." in swabia on the first of may a tall fir-tree used to be fetched into the village, where it was decked with ribbons and set up; then the people danced round it merrily to music. the tree stood on the village green the whole year through, until a fresh tree was brought in next may day. in saxony "people were not content with bringing the summer symbolically (as king or queen) into the village; they brought the fresh green itself from the woods even into the houses: that is the may or whitsuntide trees, which are mentioned in documents from the thirteenth century onwards. the fetching in of the may-tree was also a festival. the people went out into the woods to seek the may (_majum quaerere_), brought young trees, especially firs and birches, to the village and set them up before the doors of the houses or of the cattle-stalls or in the rooms. young fellows erected such may-trees, as we have already said, before the chambers of their sweethearts. besides these household mays, a great may-tree or may-pole, which had also been brought in solemn procession to the village, was set up in the middle of the village or in the market-place of the town. it had been chosen by the whole community, who watched over it most carefully. generally the tree was stripped of its branches and leaves, nothing but the crown being left, on which were displayed, in addition to many-coloured ribbons and cloths, a variety of victuals such as sausages, cakes, and eggs. the young folk exerted themselves to obtain these prizes. in the greasy poles which are still to be seen at our fairs we have a relic of these old may-poles. not uncommonly there was a race on foot or on horseback to the may-tree--a whitsunday pastime which in course of time has been divested of its goal and survives as a popular custom to this day in many parts of germany." at bordeaux on the first of may the boys of each street used to erect in it a may-pole, which they adorned with garlands and a great crown; and every evening during the whole of the month the young people of both sexes danced singing about the pole. down to the present day may-trees decked with flowers and ribbons are set up on may day in every village and hamlet of gay provence. under them the young folk make merry and the old folk rest. in all these cases, apparently, the custom is or was to bring in a new may-tree each year. however, in england the village may-pole seems as a rule, at least in later times, to have been permanent, not renewed annually. villages of upper bavaria renew their may-pole once every three, four, or five years. it is a fir-tree fetched from the forest, and amid all the wreaths, flags, and inscriptions with which it is bedecked, an essential part is the bunch of dark green foliage left at the top "as a memento that in it we have to do, not with a dead pole, but with a living tree from the greenwood." we can hardly doubt that originally the practice everywhere was to set up a new may-tree every year. as the object of the custom was to bring in the fructifying spirit of vegetation, newly awakened in spring, the end would have been defeated if, instead of a living tree, green and sappy, an old withered one had been erected year after year or allowed to stand permanently. when, however, the meaning of the custom had been forgotten, and the may-tree was regarded simply as a centre for holiday merry-making, people saw no reason for felling a fresh tree every year, and preferred to let the same tree stand permanently, only decking it with fresh flowers on may day. but even when the may-pole had thus become a fixture, the need of giving it the appearance of being a green tree, not a dead pole, was sometimes felt. thus at weverham in cheshire "are two may-poles, which are decorated on this day (may day) with all due attention to the ancient solemnity; the sides are hung with garlands, and the top terminated by a birch or other tall slender tree with its leaves on; the bark being peeled, and the stem spliced to the pole, so as to give the appearance of one tree from the summit." thus the renewal of the may-tree is like the renewal of the harvest-may; each is intended to secure a fresh portion of the fertilising spirit of vegetation, and to preserve it throughout the year. but whereas the efficacy of the harvest-may is restricted to promoting the growth of the crops, that of the may-tree or may-branch extends also, as we have seen, to women and cattle. lastly, it is worth noting that the old may-tree is sometimes burned at the end of the year. thus in the district of prague young people break pieces of the public may-tree and place them behind the holy pictures in their rooms, where they remain till next may day, and are then burned on the hearth. in würtemberg the bushes which are set up on the houses on palm sunday are sometimes left there for a year and then burnt. so much for the tree-spirit conceived as incorporate or immanent in the tree. we have now to show that the tree-spirit is often conceived and represented as detached from the tree and clothed in human form, and even as embodied in living men or women. the evidence for this anthropomorphic representation of the tree-spirit is largely to be found in the popular customs of european peasantry. there is an instructive class of cases in which the tree-spirit is represented simultaneously in vegetable form and in human form, which are set side by side as if for the express purpose of explaining each other. in these cases the human representative of the tree-spirit is sometimes a doll or puppet, sometimes a living person, but whether a puppet or a person, it is placed beside a tree or bough; so that together the person or puppet, and the tree or bough, form a sort of bilingual inscription, the one being, so to speak, a translation of the other. here, therefore, there is no room left for doubt that the spirit of the tree is actually represented in human form. thus in bohemia, on the fourth sunday in lent, young people throw a puppet called death into the water; then the girls go into the wood, cut down a young tree, and fasten to it a puppet dressed in white clothes to look like a woman; with this tree and puppet they go from house to house collecting gratuities and singing songs with the refrain: "we carry death out of the village, we bring summer into the village." here, as we shall see later on, the "summer" is the spirit of vegetation returning or reviving in spring. in some parts of our own country children go about asking for pence with some small imitations of may-poles, and with a finely-dressed doll which they call the lady of the may. in these cases the tree and the puppet are obviously regarded as equivalent. at thann, in alsace, a girl called the little may rose, dressed in white, carries a small may-tree, which is gay with garlands and ribbons. her companions collect gifts from door to door, singing a song: "little may rose turn round three times, let us look at you round and round! rose of the may, come to the greenwood away, we will be merry all. so we go from the may to the roses." in the course of the song a wish is expressed that those who give nothing may lose their fowls by the marten, that their vine may bear no clusters, their tree no nuts, their field no corn; the produce of the year is supposed to depend on the gifts offered to these may singers. here and in the cases mentioned above, where children go about with green boughs or garlands on may day singing and collecting money, the meaning is that with the spirit of vegetation they bring plenty and good luck to the house, and they expect to be paid for the service. in russian lithuania, on the first of may, they used to set up a green tree before the village. then the rustic swains chose the prettiest girl, crowned her, swathed her in birch branches and set her beside the may-tree, where they danced, sang, and shouted "o may! o may!" in brie (isle de france) a may-tree is erected in the midst of the village; its top is crowned with flowers; lower down it is twined with leaves and twigs, still lower with huge green branches. the girls dance round it, and at the same time a lad wrapt in leaves and called father may is led about. in the small towns of the franken wald mountains in northern bavaria, on the second of may, a _walber_ tree is erected before a tavern, and a man dances round it, enveloped in straw from head to foot in such a way that the ears of corn unite above his head to form a crown. he is called the _walber,_ and used to be led in procession through the streets, which were adorned with sprigs of birch. amongst the slavs of carinthia, on st. george's day (the twentythird of april), the young people deck with flowers and garlands a tree which has been felled on the eve of the festival. the tree is then carried in procession, accompanied with music and joyful acclamations, the chief figure in the procession being the green george, a young fellow clad from head to foot in green birch branches. at the close of the ceremonies the green george, that is an effigy of him, is thrown into the water. it is the aim of the lad who acts green george to step out of his leafy envelope and substitute the effigy so adroitly that no one shall perceive the change. in many places, however, the lad himself who plays the part of green george is ducked in a river or pond, with the express intention of thus ensuring rain to make the fields and meadows green in summer. in some places the cattle are crowned and driven from their stalls to the accompaniment of a song: "green george we bring, green george we accompany, may he feed our herds well. if not, to the water with him." here we see that the same powers of making rain and fostering the cattle, which are ascribed to the tree-spirit regarded as incorporate in the tree, are also attributed to the tree-spirit represented by a living man. among the gypsies of transylvania and roumania the festival of green george is the chief celebration of spring. some of them keep it on easter monday, others on st. george's day (the twentythird of april). on the eve of the festival a young willow tree is cut down, adorned with garlands and leaves, and set up in the ground. women with child place one of their garments under the tree, and leave it there over night; if next morning they find a leaf of the tree lying on the garment, they know that their delivery will be easy. sick and old people go to the tree in the evening, spit on it thrice, and say, "you will soon die, but let us live." next morning the gypsies gather about the willow. the chief figure of the festival is green george, a lad who is concealed from top to toe in green leaves and blossoms. he throws a few handfuls of grass to the beasts of the tribe, in order that they may have no lack of fodder throughout the year. then he takes three iron nails, which have lain for three days and nights in water, and knocks them into the willow; after which he pulls them out and flings them into a running stream to propitiate the water-spirits. finally, a pretence is made of throwing green george into the water, but in fact it is only a puppet made of branches and leaves which is ducked in the stream. in this version of the custom the powers of granting an easy delivery to women and of communicating vital energy to the sick and old are clearly ascribed to the willow; while green george, the human double of the tree, bestows food on the cattle, and further ensures the favour of the water-spirits by putting them in indirect communication with the tree. without citing more examples to the same effect, we may sum up the results of the preceding pages in the words of mannhardt: "the customs quoted suffice to establish with certainty the conclusion that in these spring processions the spirit of vegetation is often represented both by the may-tree and in addition by a man dressed in green leaves or flowers or by a girl similarly adorned. it is the same spirit which animates the tree and is active in the inferior plants and which we have recognised in the may-tree and the harvest-may. quite consistently the spirit is also supposed to manifest his presence in the first flower of spring and reveals himself both in a girl representing a may-rose, and also, as giver of harvest, in the person of the _walber._ the procession with this representative of the divinity was supposed to produce the same beneficial effects on the fowls, the fruit-trees, and the crops as the presence of the deity himself. in other words the mummer was regarded not as an image but as an actual representative of the spirit of vegetation; hence the wish expressed by the attendants on the may-rose and the may-tree that those who refuse them gifts of eggs, bacon, and so forth, may have no share in the blessings which it is in the power of the itinerant spirit to bestow. we may conclude that these begging processions with may-trees or may-boughs from door to door ('bringing the may or the summer') had everywhere originally a serious and, so to speak, sacramental significance; people really believed that the god of growth was present unseen in the bough; by the procession he was brought to each house to bestow his blessing. the names may, father may, may lady, queen of the may, by which the anthropomorphic spirit of vegetation is often denoted, show that the idea of the spirit of vegetation is blent with a personification of the season at which his powers are most strikingly manifested." so far we have seen that the tree-spirit or the spirit of vegetation in general is represented either in vegetable form alone, as by a tree, bough, or flower; or in vegetable and human form simultaneously, as by a tree, bough, or flower in combination with a puppet or a living person. it remains to show that the representation of him by a tree, bough, or flower is sometimes entirely dropped, while the representation of him by a living person remains. in this case the representative character of the person is generally marked by dressing him or her in leaves or flowers; sometimes, too, it is indicated by the name he or she bears. thus in some parts of russia on st. george's day (the twenty-third of april) a youth is dressed out, like our jack-in-the-green, with leaves and flowers. the slovenes call him the green george. holding a lighted torch in one hand and a pie in the other, he goes out to the corn-fields, followed by girls singing appropriate songs. a circle of brushwood is next lighted, in the middle of which is set the pie. all who take part in the ceremony then sit down around the fire and divide the pie among them. in this custom the green george dressed in leaves and flowers is plainly identical with the similarly disguised green george who is associated with a tree in the carinthian, transylvanian, and roumanian customs observed on the same day. again, we saw that in russia at whitsuntide a birch-tree is dressed in woman's clothes and set up in the house. clearly equivalent to this is the custom observed on whit-monday by russian girls in the district of pinsk. they choose the prettiest of their number, envelop her in a mass of foliage taken from the birch-trees and maples, and carry her about through the village. in ruhla as soon as the trees begin to grow green in spring, the children assemble on a sunday and go out into the woods, where they choose one of their playmates to be the little leaf man. they break branches from the trees and twine them about the child till only his shoes peep out from the leafy mantle. holes are made in it for him to see through, and two of the children lead the little leaf man that he may not stumble or fall. singing and dancing they take him from house to house, asking for gifts of food such as eggs, cream, sausages, and cakes. lastly, they sprinkle the leaf man with water and feast on the food they have collected. in the fricktal, switzerland, at whitsuntide boys go out into a wood and swathe one of their number in leafy boughs. he is called the whitsuntide-lout, and being mounted on horseback with a green branch in his hand he is led back into the village. at the village-well a halt is called and the leaf-clad lout is dismounted and ducked in the trough. thereby he acquires the right of sprinkling water on everybody, and he exercises the right specially on girls and street urchins. the urchins march before him in bands begging him to give them a whitsuntide wetting. in england the best-known example of these leaf-clad mummers is the jack-in-the-green, a chimney-sweeper who walks encased in a pyramidal framework of wickerwork, which is covered with holly and ivy, and surmounted by a crown of flowers and ribbons. thus arrayed he dances on may day at the head of a troop of chimney-sweeps, who collect pence. in fricktal a similar frame of basketwork is called the whitsuntide basket. as soon as the trees begin to bud, a spot is chosen in the wood, and here the village lads make the frame with all secrecy, lest others should forestall them. leafy branches are twined round two hoops, one of which rests on the shoulders of the wearer, the other encircles his claves; holes are made for his eyes and mouth; and a large nosegay crowns the whole. in this guise he appears suddenly in the village at the hour of vespers, preceded by three boys blowing on horns made of willow bark. the great object of his supporters is to set up the whitsuntide basket on the village well, and to keep it and him there, despite the efforts of the lads from neighbouring villages, who seek to carry off the whitsuntide basket and set it up on their own well. in the class of cases of which the foregoing are specimens it is obvious that the leaf-clad person who is led about is equivalent to the may-tree, may-bough, or may-doll, which is carried from house to house by children begging. both are representatives of the beneficent spirit of vegetation, whose visit to the house is recompensed by a present of money or food. often the leaf-clad person who represents the spirit of vegetation is known as the king or the queen; thus, for example, he or she is called the may king, whitsuntide king, queen of may, and so on. these titles, as mannhardt observes, imply that the spirit incorporate in vegetation is a ruler, whose creative power extends far and wide. in a village near salzwedel a may-tree is set up at whitsuntide and the boys race to it; he who reaches it first is king; a garland of flowers is put round his neck and in his hand he carries a may-bush, with which, as the procession moves along, he sweeps away the dew. at each house they sing a song, wishing the inmates good luck, referring to the "black cow in the stall milking white milk, black hen on the nest laying white eggs," and begging a gift of eggs, bacon, and so on. at the village of ellgoth in silesia a ceremony called the king's race is observed at whitsuntide. a pole with a cloth tied to it is set up in a meadow, and the young men ride past it on horseback, each trying to snatch away the cloth as he gallops by. the one who succeeds in carrying it off and dipping it in the neighbouring oder is proclaimed king. here the pole is clearly a substitute for a may-tree. in some villages of brunswick at whitsuntide a may king is completely enveloped in a may-bush. in some parts of thüringen also they have a may king at whitsuntide, but he is dressed up rather differently. a frame of wood is made in which a man can stand; it is completely covered with birch boughs and is surmounted by a crown of birch and flowers, in which a bell is fastened. this frame is placed in the wood and the may king gets into it. the rest go out and look for him, and when they have found him they lead him back into the village to the magistrate, the clergyman, and others, who have to guess who is in the verdurous frame. if they guess wrong, the may king rings his bell by shaking his head, and a forfeit of beer or the like must be paid by the unsuccessful guesser. at wahrstedt the boys at whitsuntide choose by lot a king and a high-steward. the latter is completely concealed in a may-bush, wears a wooden crown wreathen with flowers, and carries a wooden sword. the king, on the other hand, is only distinguished by a nosegay in his cap, and a reed, with a red ribbon tied to it, in his hand. they beg for eggs from house to house, threatening that, where none are given, none will be laid by the hens throughout the year. in this custom the high-steward appears, for some reason, to have usurped the insignia of the king. at hildesheim five or six young fellows go about on the afternoon of whit-monday cracking long whips in measured time and collecting eggs from the houses. the chief person of the band is the leaf king, a lad swathed so completely in birchen twigs that nothing of him can be seen but his feet. a huge head-dress of birchen twigs adds to his apparent stature. in his hand he carries a long crook, with which he tries to catch stray dogs and children. in some parts of bohemia on whit-monday the young fellows disguise themselves in tall caps of birch bark adorned with flowers. one of them is dressed as a king and dragged on a sledge to the village green, and if on the way they pass a pool the sledge is always overturned into it. arrived at the green they gather round the king; the crier jumps on a stone or climbs up a tree and recites lampoons about each house and its inmates. afterwards the disguises of bark are stripped off and they go about the village in holiday attire, carrying a may-tree and begging. cakes, eggs, and corn are sometimes given them. at grossvargula, near langensalza, in the eighteenth century a grass king used to be led about in procession at whitsuntide. he was encased in a pyramid of poplar branches, the top of which was adorned with a royal crown of branches and flowers. he rode on horseback with the leafy pyramid over him, so that its lower end touched the ground, and an opening was left in it only for his face. surrounded by a cavalcade of young fellows, he rode in procession to the town hall, the parsonage, and so on, where they all got a drink of beer. then under the seven lindens of the neighbouring sommerberg, the grass king was stripped of his green casing; the crown was handed to the mayor, and the branches were stuck in the flax fields in order to make the flax grow tall. in this last trait the fertilising influence ascribed to the representative of the tree-spirit comes out clearly. in the neighbourhood of pilsen (bohemia) a conical hut of green branches, without any door, is erected at whitsuntide in the midst of the village. to this hut rides a troop of village lads with a king at their head. he wears a sword at his side and a sugar-loaf hat of rushes on his head. in his train are a judge, a crier, and a personage called the frog-flayer or hangman. this last is a sort of ragged merryandrew, wearing a rusty old sword and bestriding a sorry hack. on reaching the hut the crier dismounts and goes round it looking for a door. finding none, he says, "ah, this is perhaps an enchanted castle; the witches creep through the leaves and need no door." at last he draws his sword and hews his way into the hut, where there is a chair, on which he seats himself and proceeds to criticise in rhyme the girls, farmers, and farm-servants of the neighbourhood. when this is over, the frog-flayer steps forward and, after exhibiting a cage with frogs in it, sets up a gallows on which he hangs the frogs in a row. in the neighbourhood of plas the ceremony differs in some points. the king and his soldiers are completely clad in bark, adorned with flowers and ribbons; they all carry swords and ride horses, which are gay with green branches and flowers. while the village dames and girls are being criticised at the arbour, a frog is secretly pinched and poked by the crier till it quacks. sentence of death is passed on the frog by the king; the hangman beheads it and flings the bleeding body among the spectators. lastly, the king is driven from the hut and pursued by the soldiers. the pinching and beheading of the frog are doubtless, as mannhardt observes, a rain-charm. we have seen that some indians of the orinoco beat frogs for the express purpose of producing rain, and that killing a frog is a european rain-charm. often the spirit of vegetation in spring is represented by a queen instead of a king. in the neighbourhood of libchowic (bohemia), on the fourth sunday in lent, girls dressed in white and wearing the first spring flowers, as violets and daisies, in their hair, lead about the village a girl who is called the queen and is crowned with flowers. during the procession, which is conducted with great solemnity, none of the girls may stand still, but must keep whirling round continually and singing. in every house the queen announces the arrival of spring and wishes the inmates good luck and blessings, for which she receives presents. in german hungary the girls choose the prettiest girl to be their whitsuntide queen, fasten a towering wreath on her brow, and carry her singing through the streets. at every house they stop, sing old ballads, and receive presents. in the south-east of ireland on may day the prettiest girl used to be chosen queen of the district for twelve months. she was crowned with wild flowers; feasting, dancing, and rustic sports followed, and were closed by a grand procession in the evening. during her year of office she presided over rural gatherings of young people at dances and merry-makings. if she married before next may day, her authority was at an end, but her successor was not elected till that day came round. the may queen is common in france and familiar in england. again the spirit of vegetation is sometimes represented by a king and queen, a lord and lady, or a bridegroom and bride. here again the parallelism holds between the anthropomorphic and the vegetable representation of the tree-spirit, for we have seen above that trees are sometimes married to each other. at halford in south warwickshire the children go from house to house on may day, walking two and two in procession and headed by a king and queen. two boys carry a may-pole some six or seven feet high, which is covered with flowers and greenery. fastened to it near the top are two cross-bars at right angles to each other. these are also decked with flowers, and from the ends of the bars hang hoops similarly adorned. at the houses the children sing may songs and receive money, which is used to provide tea for them at the schoolhouse in the afternoon. in a bohemian village near königgrätz on whit-monday the children play the king's game, at which a king and queen march about under a canopy, the queen wearing a garland, and the youngest girl carrying two wreaths on a plate behind them. they are attended by boys and girls called groomsmen and bridesmaids, and they go from house to house collecting gifts. a regular feature in the popular celebration of whitsuntide in silesia used to be, and to some extent still is, the contest for the kingship. this contest took various forms, but the mark or goal was generally the may-tree or may-pole. sometimes the youth who succeeded in climbing the smooth pole and bringing down the prize was proclaimed the whitsuntide king and his sweetheart the whitsuntide bride. afterwards the king, carrying the may-bush, repaired with the rest of the company to the alehouse, where a dance and a feast ended the merry-making. often the young farmers and labourers raced on horseback to the may-pole, which was adorned with flowers, ribbons, and a crown. he who first reached the pole was the whitsuntide king, and the rest had to obey his orders for that day. the worst rider became the clown. at the may-tree all dismounted and hoisted the king on their shoulders. he nimbly swarmed up the pole and brought down the may-bush and the crown, which had been fastened to the top. meanwhile the clown hurried to the alehouse and proceeded to bolt thirty rolls of bread and to swig four quart bottles of brandy with the utmost possible despatch. he was followed by the king, who bore the may-bush and crown at the head of the company. if on their arrival the clown had already disposed of the rolls and the brandy, and greeted the king with a speech and a glass of beer, his score was paid by the king; otherwise he had to settle it himself. after church time the stately procession wound through the village. at the head of it rode the king, decked with flowers and carrying the may-bush. next came the clown with his clothes turned inside out, a great flaxen beard on his chain, and the whitsuntide crown on his head. two riders disguised as guards followed. the procession drew up before every farmyard; the two guards dismounted, shut the clown into the house, and claimed a contribution from the housewife to buy soap with which to wash the clown's beard. custom allowed them to carry off any victuals which were not under lock and key. last of all they came to the house in which the king's sweetheart lived. she was greeted as whitsuntide queen and received suitable presents--to wit, a many-coloured sash, a cloth, and an apron. the king got as a prize, a vest, a neck-cloth, and so forth, and had the right of setting up the may-bush or whitsuntide-tree before his master's yard, where it remained as an honourable token till the same day next year. finally the procession took its way to the tavern, where the king and queen opened the dance. sometimes the whitsuntide king and queen succeeded to office in a different way. a man of straw, as large as life and crowned with a red cap, was conveyed in a cart, between two men armed and disguised as guards, to a place where a mock court was waiting to try him. a great crowd followed the cart. after a formal trial the straw man was condemned to death and fastened to a stake on the execution ground. the young men with bandaged eyes tried to stab him with a spear. he who succeeded became king and his sweetheart queen. the straw man was known as the goliath. in a parish of denmark it used to be the custom at whitsuntide to dress up a little girl as the whitsun-bride and a little boy as her groom. she was decked in all the finery of a grown-up bride, and wore a crown of the freshest flowers of spring on her head. her groom was as gay as flowers, ribbons, and knots could make him. the other children adorned themselves as best they could with the yellow flowers of the trollius and caltha. then they went in great state from farmhouse to farmhouse, two little girls walking at the head of the procession as bridesmaids, and six or eight outriders galloping ahead on hobby-horses to announce their coming. contributions of eggs, butter, loaves, cream, coffee, sugar, and tallow-candles were received and conveyed away in baskets. when they had made the round of the farms, some of the farmers' wives helped to arrange the wedding feast, and the children danced merrily in clogs on the stamped clay floor till the sun rose and the birds began to sing. all this is now a thing of the past. only the old folks still remember the little whitsun-bride and her mimic pomp. we have seen that in sweden the ceremonies associated elsewhere with may day or whitsuntide commonly take place at midsummer. accordingly we find that in some parts of the swedish province of blekinge they still choose a midsummer's bride, to whom the "church coronet" is occasionally lent. the girl selects for herself a bridegroom, and a collection is made for the pair, who for the time being are looked on as man and wife. the other youths also choose each his bride. a similar ceremony seems to be still kept up in norway. in the neighbourhood of briançon (dauphiné) on may day the lads wrap up in green leaves a young fellow whose sweetheart has deserted him or married another. he lies down on the ground and feigns to be asleep. then a girl who likes him, and would marry him, comes and wakes him, and raising him up offers him her arm and a flag. so they go to the alehouse, where the pair lead off the dancing. but they must marry within the year, or they are treated as old bachelor and old maid, and are debarred the company of the young folks. the lad is called the bridegroom of the month of may. in the alehouse he puts off his garment of leaves, out of which, mixed with flowers, his partner in the dance makes a nosegay, and wears it at her breast next day, when he leads her again to the alehouse. like this is a russian custom observed in the district of nerechta on the thursday before whitsunday. the girls go out into a birch-wood, wind a girdle or band round a stately birch, twist its lower branches into a wreath, and kiss each other in pairs through the wreath. the girls who kiss through the wreath call each other gossips. then one of the girls steps forward, and mimicking a drunken man, flings herself on the ground, rolls on the grass, and feigns to fall fast asleep. another girl wakens the pretended sleeper and kisses him; then the whole bevy trips singing through the wood to twine garlands, which they throw into the water. in the fate of the garlands floating on the stream they read their own. here the part of the sleeper was probably at one time played by a lad. in these french and russian customs we have a forsaken bridegroom, in the following a forsaken bride. on shrove tuesday the slovenes of oberkrain drag a straw puppet with joyous cries up and down the village; then they throw it into the water or burn it, and from the height of the flames they judge of the abundance of the next harvest. the noisy crew is followed by a female masker, who drags a great board by a string and gives out that she is a forsaken bride. viewed in the light of what has gone before, the awakening of the forsaken sleeper in these ceremonies probably represents the revival of vegetation in spring. but it is not easy to assign their respective parts to the forsaken bridegroom and to the girl who wakes him from his slumber. is the sleeper the leafless forest or the bare earth of winter? is the girl who awakens him the fresh verdure or the genial sunshine of spring? it is hardly possible, on the evidence before us, to answer these questions. in the highlands of scotland the revival of vegetation in spring used to be graphically represented on st. bride's day, the first of february. thus in the hebrides "the mistress and servants of each family take a sheaf of oats, and dress it up in women's apparel, put it in a large basket and lay a wooden club by it, and this they call briid's bed; and then the mistress and servants cry three times, 'briid is come, briid is welcome.' this they do just before going to bed, and when they rise in the morning they look among the ashes, expecting to see the impression of briid's club there; which if they do, they reckon it a true presage of a good crop and prosperous year, and the contrary they take as an ill omen." the same custom is described by another witness thus: "upon the night before candlemas it is usual to make a bed with corn and hay, over which some blankets are laid, in a part of the house, near the door. when it is ready, a person goes out and repeats three times, . . . 'bridget, bridget, come in; thy bed is ready.' one or more candles are left burning near it all night." similarly in the isle of man "on the eve of the first of february, a festival was formerly kept, called, in the manks language, _laa'l breeshey,_ in honour of the irish lady who went over to the isle of man to receive the veil from st. maughold. the custom was to gather a bundle of green rushes, and standing with them in the hand on the threshold of the door, to invite the holy saint bridget to come and lodge with them that night. in the manks language, the invitation ran thus: _'brede, brede, tar gys my thie tar dyn thie ayms noght foshil jee yn dorrys da brede, as lhig da brede e heet staigh.'_ in english: 'bridget, bridget, come to my house, come to my house to-night. open the door for bridget, and let bridget come in.' after these words were repeated, the rushes were strewn on the floor by way of a carpet or bed for st. bridget. a custom very similar to this was also observed in some of the out-isles of the ancient kingdom of man." in these manx and highland ceremonies it is obvious that st. bride, or st. bridget, is an old heathen goddess of fertility, disguised in a threadbare christian cloak. probably she is no other than brigit, the celtic goddess of fire and apparently of the crops. often the marriage of the spirit of vegetation in spring, though not directly represented, is implied by naming the human representative of the spirit, "the bride," and dressing her in wedding attire. thus in some villages of altmark at whitsuntide, while the boys go about carrying a may-tree or leading a boy enveloped in leaves and flowers, the girls lead about the may bride, a girl dressed as a bride with a great nosegay in her hair. they go from house to house, the may bride singing a song in which she asks for a present and tells the inmates of each house that if they give her something they will themselves have something the whole year through; but if they give her nothing they will themselves have nothing. in some parts of westphalia two girls lead a flower-crowned girl called the whitsuntide bride from door to door, singing a song in which they ask for eggs. xi. the influence of the sexes on vegetation from the preceding examination of the spring and summer festivals of europe we may infer that our rude forefathers personified the powers of vegetation as male and female, and attempted, on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, to quicken the growth of trees and plants by representing the marriage of the sylvan deities in the persons of a king and queen of may, a whitsun bridegroom and bride, and so forth. such representations were accordingly no mere symbolic or allegorical dramas, pastoral plays designed to amuse or instruct a rustic audience. they were charms intended to make the woods to grow green, the fresh grass to sprout, the corn to shoot, and the flowers to blow. and it was natural to suppose that the more closely the mock marriage of the leaf-clad or flower-decked mummers aped the real marriage of the woodland sprites, the more effective would be the charm. accordingly we may assume with a high degree of probability that the profligacy which notoriously attended these ceremonies was at one time not an accidental excess but an essential part of the rites, and that in the opinion of those who performed them the marriage of trees and plants could not be fertile without the real union of the human sexes. at the present day it might perhaps be vain to look in civilised europe for customs of this sort observed for the explicit purpose of promoting the growth of vegetation. but ruder races in other parts of the world have consciously employed the intercourse of the sexes as a means to ensure the fruitfulness of the earth; and some rites which are still, or were till lately, kept up in europe can be reasonably explained only as stunted relics of a similar practice. the following facts will make this plain. for four days before they committed the seed to the earth the pipiles of central america kept apart from their wives "in order that on the night before planting they might indulge their passions to the fullest extent; certain persons are even said to have been appointed to perform the sexual act at the very moment when the first seeds were deposited in the ground." the use of their wives at that time was indeed enjoined upon the people by the priests as a religious duty, in default of which it was not lawful to sow the seed. the only possible explanation of this custom seems to be that the indians confused the process by which human beings reproduce their kind with the process by which plants discharge the same function, and fancied that by resorting to the former they were simultaneously forwarding the latter. in some parts of java, at the season when the bloom will soon be on the rice, the husbandman and his wife visit their fields by night and there engage in sexual intercourse for the purpose of promoting the growth of the crop. in the leti, sarmata, and some other groups of islands which lie between the western end of new guinea and the northern part of australia, the heathen population regard the sun as the male principle by whom the earth or female prínciple is fertilised. they call him upu-lera or mr. sun, and represent him under the form of a lamp made of coco-nut leaves, which may be seen hanging everywhere in their houses and in the sacred fig-tree. under the tree lies a large flat stone, which serves as a sacrificial table. on it the heads of slain foes were and are still placed in some of the islands. once a year, at the beginning of the rainy season, mr. sun comes down into the holy fig-tree to fertilise the earth, and to facilitate his descent a ladder with seven rungs is considerately placed at his disposal. it is set up under the tree and is adorned with carved figures of the birds whose shrill clarion heralds the approach of the sun in the east. on this occasion pigs and dogs are sacrificed in profusion; men and women alike indulge in a saturnalia; and the mystic union of the sun and the earth is dramatically represented in public, amid song and dance, by the real union of the sexes under the tree. the object of the festival, we are told, is to procure rain, plenty of food and drink, abundance of cattle and children and riches from grandfather sun. they pray that he may make every she-goat to cast two or three young, the people to multiply, the dead pigs to be replaced by living pigs, the empty rice-baskets to be filled, and so on. and to induce him to grant their requests they offer him pork and rice and liquor, and invite him to fall to. in the babar islands a special flag is hoisted at this festival as a symbol of the creative energy of the sun; it is of white cotton, about nine feet high, and consists of the figure of a man in an appropriate attitude. it would be unjust to treat these orgies as a mere outburst of unbridled passion; no doubt they are deliberately and solemnly organised as essential to the fertility of the earth and the welfare of man. the same means which are thus adopted to stimulate the growth of the crops are naturally employed to ensure the fruitfulness of trees. in some parts of amboyna, when the state of the clove plantation indicates that the crop is likely to be scanty, the men go naked to the plantations by night, and there seek to fertilise the trees precisely as they would impregnate women, while at the same time they call out for "more cloves!" this is supposed to make the trees bear fruit more abundantly. the baganda of central africa believe so strongly in the intimate relation between the intercourse of the sexes and the fertility of the ground that among them a barren wife is generally sent away, because she is supposed to prevent her husband's garden from bearing fruit. on the contrary, a couple who have given proof of extraordinary fertility by becoming the parents of twins are believed by the baganda to be endowed with a corresponding power of increasing the fruitfulness of the plantain-trees, which furnish them with their staple food. some little time after the birth of the twins a ceremony is performed, the object of which clearly is to transmit the reproductive virtue of the parents to the plantains. the mother lies down on her back in the thick grass near the house and places a flower of the plantain between her legs; then her husband comes and knocks the flower away with his genital member. further, the parents go through the country performing dances in the gardens of favoured friends, apparently for the purpose of causing the plantain-trees to bear fruit more abundantly. in various parts of europe customs have prevailed both at spring and harvest which are clearly based on the same crude notion that the relation of the human sexes to each other can be so used as to quicken the growth of plants. for example, in the ukraine on st. george's day (the twenty-third of april) the priest in his robes, attended by his acolytes, goes out to the fields of the village, where the crops are beginning to show green above the ground, and blesses them. after that the young married people lie down in couples on the sown fields and roll several times over on them, in the belief that this will promote the growth of the crops. in some parts of russia the priest himself is rolled by women over the sprouting crop, and that without regard to the mud and holes which he may encounter in his beneficent progress. if the shepherd resists or remonstrates, his flock murmurs, "little father, you do not really wish us well, you do not wish us to have corn, although you do wish to live on our corn." in some parts of germany at harvest the men and women, who have reaped the corn, roll together on the field. this again is probably a mitigation of an older and ruder custom designed to impart fertility to the fields by methods like those resorted to by the pipiles of central america long ago and by the cultivators of rice in java at the present time. to the student who cares to track the devious course of the human mind in its gropings after truth, it is of some interest to observe that the same theoretical belief in the sympathetic influence of the sexes on vegetation, which has led some peoples to indulge their passions as a means of fertilising the earth, has led others to seek the same end by directly opposite means. from the moment that they sowed the maize till the time that they reaped it, the indians of nicaragua lived chastely, keeping apart from their wives and sleeping in a separate place. they ate no salt, and drank neither cocoa nor _chicha,_ the fermented liquor made from maize; in short the season was for them, as the spanish historian observes, a time of abstinence. to this day some of the indian tribes of central america practise continence for the purpose of thereby promoting the growth of the crops. thus we are told that before sowing the maize the kekchi indians sleep apart from their wives, and eat no flesh for five days, while among the lanquineros and cajaboneros the period of abstinence from these carnal pleasures extends to thirteen days. so amongst some of the germans of transylvania it is a rule that no man may sleep with his wife during the whole of the time that he is engaged in sowing his fields. the same rule is observed at kalotaszeg in hungary; the people think that if the custom were not observed the corn would be mildewed. similarly a central australian headman of the kaitish tribe strictly abstains from marital relations with his wife all the time that he is performing magical ceremonies to make the grass grow; for he believes that a breach of this rule would prevent the grass seed from sprouting properly. in some of the melanesian islands, when the yam vines are being trained, the men sleep near the gardens and never approach their wives; should they enter the garden after breaking this rule of continence the fruits of the garden would be spoilt. if we ask why it is that similar beliefs should logically lead, among different peoples, to such opposite modes of conduct as strict chastity and more or less open debauchery, the reason, as it presents itself to the primitive mind, is perhaps not very far to seek. if rude man identifies himself, in a manner, with nature; if he fails to distinguish the impulses and processes in himself from the methods which nature adopts to ensure the reproduction of plants and animals, he may leap to one of two conclusions. either he may infer that by yielding to his appetites he will thereby assist in the multiplication of plants and animals; or he may imagine that the vigour which he refuses to expend in reproducing his own kind, will form as it were a store of energy whereby other creatures, whether vegetable or animal, will somehow benefit in propagating their species. thus from the same crude philosophy, the same primitive notions of nature and life, the savage may derive by different channels a rule either of profligacy or of asceticism. to readers bred in religion which is saturated with the ascetic idealism of the east, the explanation which i have given of the rule of continence observed under certain circumstances by rude or savage peoples may seem far-fetched and improbable. they may think that moral purity, which is so intimately associated in their minds with the observance of such a rule, furnishes a sufficient explanation of it; they may hold with milton that chastity in itself is a noble virtue, and that the restraint which it imposes on one of the strongest impulses of our animal nature marks out those who can submit to it as men raised above the common herd, and therefore worthy to receive the seal of the divine approbation. however natural this mode of thought may seem to us, it is utterly foreign and indeed incomprehensible to the savage. if he resists on occasion the sexual instinct, it is from no high idealism, no ethereal aspiration after moral purity, but for the sake of some ulterior yet perfectly definite and concrete object, to gain which he is prepared to sacrifice the immediate gratification of his senses. that this is or may be so, the examples i have cited are amply sufficient to prove. they show that where the instinct of self-preservation, which manifests itself chiefly in the search for food, conflicts or appears to conflict with the instinct which conduces to the propagation of the species, the former instinct, as the primary and more fundamental, is capable of overmastering the latter. in short, the savage is willing to restrain his sexual propensity for the sake of food. another object for the sake of which he consents to exercise the same self-restraint is victory in war. not only the warrior in the field but his friends at home will often bridle their sensual appetites from a belief that by so doing they will the more easily overcome their enemies. the fallacy of such a belief, like the belief that the chastity of the sower conduces to the growth of the seed, is plain enough to us; yet perhaps the self-restraint which these and the like beliefs, vain and false as they are, have imposed on mankind, has not been without its utility in bracing and strengthening the breed. for strength of character in the race as in the individual consists mainly in the power of sacrificing the present to the future, of disregarding the immediate temptations of ephemeral pleasure for more distant and lasting sources of satisfaction. the more the power is exercised the higher and stronger becomes the character; till the height of heroism is reached in men who renounce the pleasures of life and even life itself for the sake of keeping or winning for others, perhaps in distant ages, the blessings of freedom and truth. xii. the sacred marriage . diana as a goddess of fertility we have seen that according to a widespread belief, which is not without a foundation in fact, plants reproduce their kinds through the sexual union of male and female elements, and that on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic this reproduction is supposed to be stimulated by the real or mock marriage of men and women, who masquerade for the time being as spirits of vegetation. such magical dramas have played a great part in the popular festivals of europe, and based as they are on a very crude conception of natural law, it is clear that they must have been handed down from a remote antiquity. we shall hardly, therefore, err in assuming that they date from a time when the forefathers of the civilised nations of europe were still barbarians, herding their cattle and cultivating patches of corn in the clearings of the vast forests, which then covered the greater part of the continent, from the mediterranean to the arctic ocean. but if these old spells and enchantments for the growth of leaves and blossoms, of grass and flowers and fruit, have lingered down to our own time in the shape of pastoral plays and popular merry-makings, is it not reasonable to suppose that they survived in less attenuated forms some two thousand years ago among the civilised peoples of antiquity? or, to put it otherwise, is it not likely that in certain festivals of the ancients we may be able to detect the equivalents of our may day, whitsuntide, and midsummer celebrations, with this difference, that in those days the ceremonies had not yet dwindled into mere shows and pageants, but were still religious or magical rites, in which the actors consciously supported the high parts of gods and goddesses? now in the first chapter of this book we found reason to believe that the priest who bore the title of king of the wood at nemi had for his mate the goddess of the grove, diana herself. may not he and she, as king and queen of the wood, have been serious counterparts of the merry mummers who play the king and queen of may, the whitsuntide bridegroom and bride in modern europe? and may not their union have been yearly celebrated in a _theogamy_ or divine marriage? such dramatic weddings of gods and goddesses, as we shall see presently, were carried out as solemn religious rites in many parts of the ancient world; hence there is no intrinsic improbability in the supposition that the sacred grove at nemi may have been the scene of an annual ceremony of this sort. direct evidence that it was so there is none, but analogy pleads in favour of the view, as i shall now endeavour to show. diana was essentially a goddess of the woodlands, as ceres was a goddess of the corn and bacchus a god of the vine. her sanctuaries were commonly in groves, indeed every grove was sacred to her, and she is often associated with the forest god silvanus in dedications. but whatever her origin may have been, diana was not always a mere goddess of trees. like her greek sister artemis, she appears to have developed into a personification of the teeming life of nature, both animal and vegetable. as mistress of the greenwood she would naturally be thought to own the beasts, whether wild or tame, that ranged through it, lurking for their prey in its gloomy depths, munching the fresh leaves and shoots among the boughs, or cropping the herbage in the open glades and dells. thus she might come to be the patron goddess both of hunters and herdsmen, just as silvanus was the god not only of woods, but of cattle. similarly in finland the wild beasts of the forest were regarded as the herds of the woodland god tapio and of his stately and beautiful wife. no man might slay one of these animals without the gracious permission of their divine owners. hence the hunter prayed to the sylvan deities, and vowed rich offerings to them if they would drive the game across his path. and cattle also seem to have enjoyed the protection of those spirits of the woods, both when they were in their stalls and while they strayed in the forest. before the gayos of sumatra hunt deer, wild goats, or wild pigs with hounds in the woods, they deem it necessary to obtain the leave of the unseen lord of the forest. this is done according to a prescribed form by a man who has special skill in woodcraft. he lays down a quid of betel before a stake which is cut in a particular way to represent the lord of the wood, and having done so he prays to the spirit to signify his consent or refusal. in his treatise on hunting, arrian tells us that the celts used to offer an annual sacrifice to artemis on her birthday, purchasing the sacrificial victim with the fines which they had paid into her treasury for every fox, hare, and roe that they had killed in the course of the year. the custom clearly implied that the wild beasts belonged to the goddess, and that she must be compensated for their slaughter. but diana was not merely a patroness of wild beasts, a mistress of woods and hills, of lonely glades and sounding rivers; conceived as the moon, and especially, it would seem, as the yellow harvest moon, she filled the farmer's grange with goodly fruits, and heard the prayers of women in travail. in her sacred grove at nemi, as we have seen, she was especially worshipped as a goddess of childbirth, who bestowed offspring on men and women. thus diana, like the greek artemis, with whom she was constantly identified, may be described as a goddess of nature in general and of fertility in particular. we need not wonder, therefore, that in her sanctuary on the aventine she was represented by an image copied from the many-breasted idol of the ephesian artemis, with all its crowded emblems of exuberant fecundity. hence too we can understand why an ancient roman law, attributed to king tullus hostilius, prescribed that, when incest had been committed, an expiatory sacrifice should be offered by the pontiffs in the grove of diana. for we know that the crime of incest is commonly supposed to cause a dearth; hence it would be meet that atonement for the offence should be made to the goddess of fertility. now on the principle that the goddess of fertility must herself be fertile, it behoved diana to have a male partner. her mate, if the testimony of servius may be trusted, was that virbius who had his representative, or perhaps rather his embodiment, in the king of the wood at nemi. the aim of their union would be to promote the fruitfulness of the earth, of animals, and of mankind; and it might naturally be thought that this object would be more surely attained if the sacred nuptials were celebrated every year, the parts of the divine bride and bridegroom being played either by their images or by living persons. no ancient writer mentions that this was done in the grove at nemi; but our knowledge of the arician ritual is so scanty that the want of information on this head can hardly count as a fatal objection to the theory. that theory, in the absence of direct evidence, must necessarily be based on the analogy of similar customs practised elsewhere. some modern examples of such customs, more or less degenerate, were described in the last chapter. here we shall consider their ancient counterparts. . the marriage of the gods at babylon the imposing sanctuary of bel rose like a pyramid above the city in a series of eight towers or stories, planted one on the top of the other. on the highest tower, reached by an ascent which wound about all the rest, there stood a spacious temple, and in the temple a great bed, magnificently draped and cushioned, with a golden table beside it. in the temple no image was to be seen, and no human being passed the night there, save a single woman, whom, according to the chaldean priests, the god chose from among all the women of babylon. they said that the deity himself came into the temple at night and slept in the great bed; and the woman, as a consort of the god, might have no intercourse with mortal man. at thebes in egypt a woman slept in the temple of ammon as the consort of the god, and, like the human wife of bel at babylon, she was said to have no commerce with a man. in egyptian texts she is often mentioned as "the divine consort," and usually she was no less a personage than the queen of egypt herself. for, according to the egyptians, their monarchs were actually begotten by the god ammon, who assumed for the time being the form of the reigning king, and in that disguise had intercourse with the queen. the divine procreation is carved and painted in great detail on the walls of two of the oldest temples in egypt, those of deir el bahari and luxor; and the inscriptions attached to the paintings leave no doubt as to the meaning of the scenes. at athens the god of the vine, dionysus, was annually married to the queen, and it appears that the consummation of the divine union, as well as the espousals, was enacted at the ceremony; but whether the part of the god was played by a man or an image we do not know. we learn from aristotle that the ceremony took place in the old official residence of the king, known as the cattle-stall, which stood near the prytaneum or town-hall on the north-eastern slope of the acropolis. the object of the marriage can hardly have been any other than that of ensuring the fertility of the vines and other fruit-trees of which dionysus was the god. thus both in form and in meaning the ceremony would answer to the nuptials of the king and queen of may. in the great mysteries solemnised at eleusis in the month of september the union of the sky-god zeus with the corn-goddess demeter appears to have been represented by the union of the hierophant with the priestess of demeter, who acted the parts of god and goddess. but their intercourse was only dramatic or symbolical, for the hierophant had temporarily deprived himself of his virility by an application of hemlock. the torches having been extinguished, the pair descended into a murky place, while the throng of worshippers awaited in anxious suspense the result of the mystic congress, on which they believed their own salvation to depend. after a time the hierophant reappeared, and in a blaze of light silently exhibited to the assembly a reaped ear of corn, the fruit of the divine marriage. then in a loud voice he proclaimed, "queen brimo has brought forth a sacred boy brimos," by which he meant, "the mighty one has brought forth the mighty." the corn-mother in fact had given birth to her child, the corn, and her travail-pangs were enacted in the sacred drama. this revelation of the reaped corn appears to have been the crowning act of the mysteries. thus through the glamour shed round these rites by the poetry and philosophy of later ages there still looms, like a distant landscape through a sunlit haze, a simple rustic festival designed to cover the wide eleusinian plain with a plenteous harvest by wedding the goddess of the corn to the sky-god, who fertilised the bare earth with genial showers. every few years the people of plataea, in boeotia, held a festival called the little daedala, at which they felled an oak-tree in an ancient oak forest. out of the tree they carved an image, and having dressed it as a bride, they set it on a bullock-cart with a bridesmaid beside it. the image seems then to have been drawn to the bank of the river asopus and back to the town, attended by a piping and dancing crowd. every sixty years the festival of the great daedala was celebrated by all the people of boeotia; and at it all the images, fourteen in number, which had accumulated at the lesser festivals, were dragged on wains in procession to the river asopus and then to the top of mount cithaeron, where they were burnt on a great pyre. the story told to explain the festivals suggests that they celebrated the marriage of zeus to hera, represented by the oaken image in bridal array. in sweden every year a life-size image of frey, the god of fertility, both animal and vegetable, was drawn about the country in a waggon attended by a beautiful girl who was called the god's wife. she acted also as his priestess in his great temple at upsala. wherever the waggon came with the image of the god and his blooming young bride, the people crowded to meet them and offered sacrifices for a fruitful year. thus the custom of marrying gods either to images or to human beings was widespread among the nations of antiquity. the ideas on which such a custom is based are too crude to allow us to doubt that the civilised babylonians, egyptians, and greeks inherited it from their barbarous or savage forefathers. this presumption is strengthened when we find rites of a similar kind in vogue among the lower races. thus, for example, we are told that once upon a time the wotyaks of the malmyz district in russia were distressed by a series of bad harvests. they did not know what to do, but at last concluded that their powerful but mischievious god keremet must be angry at being unmarried. so a deputation of elders visited the wotyaks of cura and came to an understanding with them on the subject. then they returned home, laid in a large stock of brandy, and having made ready a gaily decked waggon and horses, they drove in procession with bells ringing, as they do when they are fetching home a bride, to the sacred grove at cura. there they ate and drank merrily all night, and next morning they cut a square piece of turf in the grove and took it home with them. after that, though it fared well with the people of malmyz, it fared ill with the people of cura; for in malmyz the bread was good, but in cura it was bad. hence the men of cura who had consented to the marriage were blamed and roughly handled by their indignant fellow-villagers. "what they meant by this marriage ceremony," says the writer who reports it, "it is not easy to imagine. perhaps, as bechterew thinks, they meant to marry keremet to the kindly and fruitful mukylcin, the earth-wife, in order that she might influence him for good." when wells are dug in bengal, a wooden image of a god is made and married to the goddess of water. often the bride destined for the god is not a log or a cloud, but a living woman of flesh and blood. the indians of a village in peru have been known to marry a beautiful girl, about fourteen years of age, to a stone shaped like a human being, which they regarded as a god (_huaca_). all the villagers took part in the marriage ceremony, which lasted three days, and was attended with much revelry. the girl thereafter remained a virgin and sacrificed to the idol for the people. they showed her the utmost reverence and deemed her divine. every year about the middle of march, when the season for fishing with the dragnet began, the algonquins and hurons married their nets to two young girls, aged six or seven. at the wedding feast the net was placed between the two maidens, and was exhorted to take courage and catch many fish. the reason for choosing the brides so young was to make sure that they were virgins. the origin of the custom is said to have been this. one year, when the fishing season came round, the algonquins cast their nets as usual, but took nothing. surprised at their want of success, they did not know what to make of it, till the soul or genius (_oki_) of the net appeared to them in the likeness of a tall well-built man, who said to them in a great passion, "i have lost my wife and i cannot find one who has known no other man but me; that is why you do not succeed, and why you never will succeed till you give me satisfaction on this head." so the algonquins held a council and resolved to appease the spirit of the net by marrying him to two such very young girls that he could have no ground of complaint on that score for the future. they did so, and the fishing turned out all that could be wished. the thing got wind among their neighbours the hurons, and they adopted the custom. a share of the catch was always given to the families of the two girls who acted as brides of the net for the year. the oraons of bengal worship the earth as a goddess, and annually celebrate her marriage with the sun-god dharme¯ at the time when the _sa¯l_ tree is in blossom. the ceremony is as follows. all bathe, then the men repair to the sacred grove (_sarna_), while the women assemble at the house of the village priest. after sacrificing some fowls to the sun-god and the demon of the grove, the men eat and drink. "the priest is then carried back to the village on the shoulders of a strong man. near the village the women meet the men and wash their feet. with beating of drums and singing, dancing, and jumping, all proceed to the priest's house, which has been decorated with leaves and flowers. then the usual form of marriage is performed between the priest and his wife, symbolising the supposed union between sun and earth. after the ceremony all eat and drink and make merry; they dance and sing obscene songs, and finally indulge in the vilest orgies. the object is to move the mother earth to become fruitful." thus the sacred marriage of the sun and earth, personated by the priest and his wife, is celebrated as a charm to ensure the fertility of the ground; and for the same purpose, on the principle of homoeopathic magic, the people indulge in licentious orgy. it deserves to be remarked that the supernatural being to whom women are married is often a god or spirit of water. thus mukasa, the god of the victoria nyanza lake, who was propitiated by the baganda every time they undertook a long voyage, had virgins provided for him to serve as his wives. like the vestals they were bound to chastity, but unlike the vestals they seem to have been often unfaithful. the custom lasted until mwanga was converted to christianity. the akikuyu of british east africa worship the snake of a certain river, and at intervals of several years they marry the snake-god to women, but especially to young girls. for this purpose huts are built by order of the medicine-men, who there consummate the sacred marriage with the credulous female devotees. if the girls do not repair to the huts of their own accord in sufficient numbers, they are seized and dragged thither to the embraces of the deity. the offspring of these mystic unions appears to be fathered on god (_ngai_); certainly there are children among the akikuyu who pass for children of god. it is said that once, when the inhabitants of cayeli in buru--an east indian island--were threatened with destruction by a swarm of crocodiles, they ascribed the misfortune to a passion which the prince of the crocodiles had conceived for a certain girl. accordingly, they compelled the damsel's father to dress her in bridal array and deliver her over to the clutches of her crocodile lover. a usage of the same sort is reported to have prevailed in the maldive islands before the conversion of the inhabitants to islam. the famous arab traveller ibn batutah has described the custom and the manner in which it came to an end. he was assured by several trustworthy natives, whose names he gives, that when the people of the islands were idolaters there appeared to them every month an evil spirit among the jinn, who came from across the sea in the likeness of a ship full of burning lamps. the wont of the inhabitants, as soon as they perceived him, was to take a young virgin, and, having adorned her, to lead her to a heathen temple that stood on the shore, with a window looking out to sea. there they left the damsel for the night, and when they came back in the morning they found her a maid no more, and dead. every month they drew lots, and he upon whom the lot fell gave up his daughter to the jinnee of the sea. the last of the maidens thus offered to the demon was rescued by a pious berber, who by reciting the koran succeeded in driving the jinnee back into the sea. ibn batutah's narrative of the demon lover and his mortal brides closely resembles a well-known type of folk-tale, of which versions have been found from japan and annam in the east to senegambia, scandinavia, and scotland in the west. the story varies in details from people to people, but as commonly told it runs thus. a certain country is infested by a many-headed serpent, dragon, or other monster, which would destroy the whole people if a human victim, generally a virgin, were not delivered up to him periodically. many victims have perished, and at last it has fallen to the lot of the king's own daughter to be sacrificed. she is exposed to the monster, but the hero of the tale, generally a young man of humble birth, interposes in her behalf, slays the monster, and receives the hand of the princess as his reward. in many of the tales the monster, who is sometimes described as a serpent, inhabits the water of a sea, a lake, or a fountain. in other versions he is a serpent or dragon who takes possession of the springs of water, and only allows the water to flow or the people to make use of it on condition of receiving a human victim. it would probably be a mistake to dismiss all these tales as pure inventions of the story-teller. rather we may suppose that they reflect a real custom of sacrificing girls or women to be the wives of waterspirits, who are very often conceived as great serpents or dragons. xiii. the kings of rome and alba . numa and egeria from the foregoing survey of custom and legend we may infer that the sacred marriage of the powers both of vegetation and of water has been celebrated by many peoples for the sake of promoting the fertility of the earth, on which the life of animals and men ultimately depends, and that in such rites the part of the divine bridegroom or bride is often sustained by a man or woman. the evidence may, therefore, lend some countenance to the conjecture that in the sacred grove at nemi, where the powers of vegetation and of water manifested themselves in the fair forms of shady woods, tumbling cascades, and glassy lake, a marriage like that of our king and queen of may was annually celebrated between the mortal king of the wood and the immortal queen of the wood, diana. in this connexion an important figure in the grove was the water-nymph egeria, who was worshipped by pregnant women because she, like diana, could grant them an easy delivery. from this it seems fairly safe to conclude that, like many other springs, the water of egeria was credited with a power of facilitating conception as well as delivery. the votive offerings found on the spot, which clearly refer to the begetting of children, may possibly have been dedicated to egeria rather than to diana, or perhaps we should rather say that the water-nymph egeria is only another form of the great nature-goddess diana herself, the mistress of sounding rivers as well as of umbrageous woods, who had her home by the lake and her mirror in its calm waters, and whose greek counterpart artemis loved to haunt meres and springs. the identification of egeria with diana is confirmed by a statement of plutarch that egeria was one of the oak-nymphs whom the romans believed to preside over every green oak-grove; for, while diana was a goddess of the woodlands in general, she appears to have been intimately associated with oaks in particular, especially at her sacred grove of nemi. perhaps, then, egeria was the fairy of a spring that flowed from the roots of a sacred oak. such a spring is said to have gushed from the foot of the great oak at dodona, and from its murmurous flow the priestess drew oracles. among the greeks a draught of water from certain sacred springs or wells was supposed to confer prophetic powers. this would explain the more than mortal wisdom with which, according to tradition, egeria inspired her royal husband or lover numa. when we remember how very often in early society the king is held responsible for the fall of rain and the fruitfulness of the earth, it seems hardly rash to conjecture that in the legend of the nuptials of numa and egeria we have a reminiscence of a sacred marriage which the old roman kings regularly contracted with a goddess of vegetation and water for the purpose of enabling him to discharge his divine or magical functions. in such a rite the part of the goddess might be played either by an image or a woman, and if by a woman, probably by the queen. if there is any truth in this conjecture, we may suppose that the king and queen of rome masqueraded as god and goddess at their marriage, exactly as the king and queen of egypt appear to have done. the legend of numa and egeria points to a sacred grove rather than to a house as the scene of the nuptial union, which, like the marriage of the king and queen of may, or of the vine-god and the queen of athens, may have been annually celebrated as a charm to ensure the fertility not only of the earth but of man and beast. now, according to some accounts, the scene of the marriage was no other than the sacred grove of nemi, and on quite independent grounds we have been led to suppose that in that same grove the king of the wood was wedded to diana. the convergence of the two distinct lines of enquiry suggests that the legendary union of the roman king with egeria may have been a reflection or duplicate of the union of the king of the wood with egeria or her double diana. this does not imply that the roman kings ever served as kings of the wood in the arician grove, but only that they may originally have been invested with a sacred character of the same general kind, and may have held office on similar terms. to be more explicit, it is possible that they reigned, not by right of birth, but in virtue of their supposed divinity as representatives or embodiments of a god, and that as such they mated with a goddess, and had to prove their fitness from time to time to discharge their divine functions by engaging in a severe bodily struggle, which may often have proved fatal to them, leaving the crown to their victorious adversary. our knowledge of the roman kingship is far too scanty to allow us to affirm any one of these propositions with confidence; but at least there are some scattered hints or indications of a similarity in all these respects between the priests of nemi and the kings of rome, or perhaps rather between their remote predecessors in the dark ages which preceded the dawn of legend. . the king as jupiter in the first place, then, it would seem that the roman king personated no less a deity than jupiter himself. for down to imperial times victorious generals celebrating a triumph, and magistrates presiding at the games in the circus, wore the costume of jupiter, which was borrowed for the occasion from his great temple on the capitol; and it has been held with a high degree of probability both by ancients and moderns that in so doing they copied the traditionary attire and insignia of the roman kings. they rode a chariot drawn by four laurel-crowned horses through the city, where every one else went on foot: they wore purple robes embroidered or spangled with gold: in the right hand they bore a branch of laurel, and in the left hand an ivory sceptre topped with an eagle: a wreath of laurel crowned their brows: their face was reddened with vermilion; and over their head a slave held a heavy crown of massy gold fashioned in the likeness of oak leaves. in this attire the assimilation of the man to the god comes out above all in the eagle-topped sceptre, the oaken crown, and the reddened face. for the eagle was the bird of jove, the oak was his sacred tree, and the face of his image standing in his four-horse chariot on the capitol was in like manner regularly dyed red on festivals; indeed, so important was it deemed to keep the divine features properly rouged that one of the first duties of the censors was to contract for having this done. as the triumphal procession always ended in the temple of jupiter on the capitol, it was peculiarly appropriate that the head of the victor should be graced by a crown of oak leaves, for not only was every oak consecrated to jupiter, but the capitoline temple of the god was said to have been built by romulus beside a sacred oak, venerated by shepherds, to which the king attached the spoils won by him from the enemy's general in battle. we are expressly told that the oak crown was sacred to capitoline jupiter; a passage of ovid proves that it was regarded as the god's special emblem. according to a tradition which we have no reason to reject, rome was founded by settlers from alba longa, a city situated on the slope of the alban hills, overlooking the lake and the campagna. hence if the roman kings claimed to be representatives or embodiments of jupiter, the god of the sky, of the thunder, and of the oak, it is natural to suppose that the kings of alba, from whom the founder of rome traced his descent, may have set up the same claim before them. now the alban dynasty bore the name of silvii or wood, and it can hardly be without significance that in the vision of the historic glories of rome revealed to aeneas in the underworld, virgil, an antiquary as well as a poet, should represent all the line of silvii as crowned with oak. a chaplet of oak leaves would thus seem to have been part of the insignia of the old kings of alba longa as of their successors the kings of rome; in both cases it marked the monarch as the human representative of the oak-god. the roman annals record that one of the kings of alba, romulus, remulus, or amulius silvius by name, set up for being a god in his own person, the equal or superior of jupiter. to support his pretensions and overawe his subjects, he constructed machines whereby he mimicked the clap of thunder and the flash of lightning. diodorus relates that in the season of fruitage, when thunder is loud and frequent, the king commanded his soldiers to drown the roar of heaven's artillery by clashing their swords against their shields. but he paid the penalty of his impiety, for he perished, he and his house, struck by a thunderbolt in the midst of a dreadful storm. swollen by the rain, the alban lake rose in flood and drowned his palace. but still, says an ancient historian, when the water is low and the surface unruffled by a breeze, you may see the ruins of the palace at the bottom of the clear lake. taken along with the similar story of salmoneus, king of elis, this legend points to a real custom observed by the early kings of greece and italy, who, like their fellows in africa down to modern times, may have been expected to produce rain and thunder for the good of the crops. the priestly king numa passed for an adept in the art of drawing down lightning from the sky. mock thunder, we know, has been made by various peoples as a rain-charm in modern times; why should it not have been made by kings in antiquity? thus, if the kings of alba and rome imitated jupiter as god of the oak by wearing a crown of oak leaves, they seem also to have copied him in his character of a weather-god by pretending to make thunder and lightning. and if they did so, it is probable that, like jupiter in heaven and many kings on earth, they also acted as public rain-makers, wringing showers from the dark sky by their enchantments whenever the parched earth cried out for the refreshing moisture. at rome the sluices of heaven were opened by means of a sacred stone, and the ceremony appears to have formed part of the ritual of jupiter elicius, the god who elicits from the clouds the flashing lightning and the dripping rain. and who so well fitted to perform the ceremony as the king, the living representative of the sky-god? if the kings of rome aped capitoline jove, their predecessors the kings of alba probably laid themselves out to mimic the great latian jupiter, who had his seat above the city on the summit of the alban mountain. latinus, the legendary ancestor of the dynasty, was said to have been changed into latian jupiter after vanishing from the world in the mysterious fashion characteristic of the old latin kings. the sanctuary of the god on the top of the mountain was the religious centre of the latin league, as alba was its political capital till rome wrested the supremacy from its ancient rival. apparently no temple, in our sense of the word, was ever erected to jupiter on this his holy mountain; as god of the sky and thunder he appropriately received the homage of his worshippers in the open air. the massive wall, of which some remains still enclose the old garden of the passionist monastery, seems to have been part of the sacred precinct which tarquin the proud, the last king of rome, marked out for the solemn annual assembly of the latin league. the god's oldest sanctuary on this airy mountain-top was a grove; and bearing in mind not merely the special consecration of the oak to jupiter, but also the traditional oak crown of the alban kings and the analogy of the capitoline jupiter at rome, we may suppose that the trees in the grove were oaks. we know that in antiquity mount algidus, an outlying group of the alban hills, was covered with dark forests of oak; and among the tribes who belonged to the latin league in the earliest days, and were entitled to share the flesh of the white bull sacrificed on the alban mount, there was one whose members styled themselves the men of the oak, doubtless on account of the woods among which they dwelt. but we should err if we pictured to ourselves the country as covered in historical times with an unbroken forest of oaks. theophrastus has left us a description of the woods of latium as they were in the fourth century before christ. he says: "the land of the latins is all moist. the plains produce laurels, myrtles, and wonderful beeches; for they fell trees of such a size that a single stem suffices for the keel of a tyrrhenian ship. pines and firs grow in the mountains. what they call the land of circe is a lofty headland thickly wooded with oak, myrtle, and luxuriant laurels. the natives say that circe dwelt there, and they show the grave of elpenor, from which grow myrtles such as wreaths are made of, whereas the other myrtle-trees are tall." thus the prospect from the top of the alban mount in the early days of rome must have been very different in some respects from what it is to-day. the purple apennines, indeed, in their eternal calm on the one hand, and the shining mediterranean in its eternal unrest on the other, no doubt looked then much as they look now, whether bathed in sunshine, or chequered by the fleeting shadows of clouds; but instead of the desolate brown expanse of the fever-stricken campagna, spanned by its long lines of ruined aqueducts, like the broken arches of the bridge in the vision of mirza, the eye must have ranged over woodlands that stretched away, mile after mile, on all sides, till their varied hues of green or autumnal scarlet and gold melted insensibly into the blue of the distant mountains and sea. but jupiter did not reign alone on the top of his holy mountain. he had his consort with him, the goddess juno, who was worshipped here under the same title, moneta, as on the capitol at rome. as the oak crown was sacred to jupiter and juno on the capitol, so we may suppose it was on the alban mount, from which the capitoline worship was derived. thus the oak-god would have his oak-goddess in the sacred oak grove. so at dodona the oak-god zeus was coupled with dione, whose very name is only a dialectically different form of juno; and so on the top of mount cithaeron, as we have seen, he appears to have been periodically wedded to an oaken image of hera. it is probable, though it cannot be positively proved, that the sacred marriage of jupiter and juno was annually celebrated by all the peoples of the latin stock in the month which they named after the goddess, the midsummer month of june. if at any time of the year the romans celebrated the sacred marriage of jupiter and juno, as the greeks commonly celebrated the corresponding marriage of zeus and hera, we may suppose that under the republic the ceremony was either performed over images of the divine pair or acted by the flamen dialis and his wife the flaminica. for the flamen dialis was the priest of jove; indeed, ancient and modern writers have regarded him, with much probability, as a living image of jupiter, a human embodiment of the sky-god. in earlier times the roman king, as representative of jupiter, would naturally play the part of the heavenly bridegroom at the sacred marriage, while his queen would figure as the heavenly bride, just as in egypt the king and queen masqueraded in the character of deities, and as at athens the queen annually wedded the vine-god dionysus. that the roman king and queen should act the parts of jupiter and juno would seem all the more natural because these deities themselves bore the title of king and queen. whether that was so or not, the legend of numa and egeria appears to embody a reminiscence of a time when the priestly king himself played the part of the divine bridegroom; and as we have seen reason to suppose that the roman kings personated the oak-god, while egeria is expressly said to have been an oak-nymph, the story of their union in the sacred grove raises a presumption that at rome in the regal period a ceremony was periodically performed exactly analogous to that which was annually celebrated at athens down to the time of aristotle. the marriage of the king of rome to the oak-goddess, like the wedding of the vine-god to the queen of athens, must have been intended to quicken the growth of vegetation by homoeopathic magic. of the two forms of the rite we can hardly doubt that the roman was the older, and that long before the northern invaders met with the vine on the shores of the mediterranean their forefathers had married the tree-god to the tree-goddess in the vast oak forests of central and northern europe. in the england of our day the forests have mostly disappeared, yet still on many a village green and in many a country lane a faded image of the sacred marriage lingers in the rustic pageantry of may day. xiv. the succession to the kingdom in ancient latium in regard to the roman king, whose priestly functions were inherited by his successor the king of the sacred rites, the foregoing discussion has led us to the following conclusions. he represented and indeed personated jupiter, the great god of the sky, the thunder, and the oak, and in that character made rain, thunder, and lightning for the good of his subjects, like many more kings of the weather in other parts of the world. further, he not only mimicked the oak-god by wearing an oak wreath and other insignia of divinity, but he was married to an oak-nymph egeria, who appears to have been merely a local form of diana in her character of a goddess of woods, of waters, and of child-birth. all these conclusions, which we have reached mainly by a consideration of the roman evidence, may with great probability be applied to the other latin communities. they too probably had of old their divine or priestly kings, who transmitted their religious functions, without their civil powers, to their successors the kings of the sacred rites. but we have still to ask, what was the rule of succession to the kingdom among the old latin tribes? according to tradition, there were in all eight kings of rome, and with regard to the five last of them, at all events, we can hardly doubt that they actually sat on the throne, and that the traditional history of their reigns is, in its main outlines, correct. now it is very remarkable that though the first king of rome, romulus, is said to have been descended from the royal house of alba, in which the kingship is represented as hereditary in the male line, not one of the roman kings was immediately succeeded by his son on the throne. yet several left sons or grandsons behind them. on the other hand, one of them was descended from a former king through his mother, not through his father, and three of the kings, namely tatius, the elder tarquin, and servius tullius, were succeeded by their sons-in-law, who were all either foreigners or of foreign descent. this suggests that the right to the kingship was transmitted in the female line, and was actually exercised by foreigners who married the royal princesses. to put it in technical language, the succession to the kingship at rome and probably in latium generally would seem to have been determined by certain rules which have moulded early society in many parts of the world, namely exogamy, _beena_ marriage, and female kinship or mother-kin. exogamy is the rule which obliges a man to marry a woman of a different clan from his own: _beena_ marriage is the rule that he must leave the home of his birth and live with his wife's people; and female kinship or mother-kin is the system of tracing relationship and transmitting the family name through women instead of through men. if these principles regulated descent of the kingship among the ancient latins, the state of things in this respect would be somewhat as follows. the political and religious centre of each community would be the perpetual fire on the king's hearth tended by vestal virgins of the royal clan. the king would be a man of another clan, perhaps of another town or even of another race, who had married a daughter of his predecessor and received the kingdom with her. the children whom he had by her would inherit their mother's name, not his; the daughters would remain at home; the sons, when they grew up, would go away into the world, marry, and settle in their wives' country, whether as kings or commoners. of the daughters who stayed at home, some or all would be dedicated as vestal virgins for a longer or shorter time to the service of the fire on the hearth, and one of them would in time become the consort of her father's successor. this hypothesis has the advantage of explaining in a simple and natural way some obscure features in the traditional history of the latin kingship. thus the legends which tell how latin kings were born of virgin mothers and divine fathers become at least more intelligible. for, stripped of their fabulous element, tales of this sort mean no more than that a woman has been gotten with child by a man unknown; and this uncertainty as to fatherhood is more easily compatible with a system of kinship which ignores paternity than with one which makes it all-important. if at the birth of the latin kings their fathers were really unknown, the fact points either to a general looseness of life in the royal family or to a special relaxation of moral rules on certain occasions, when men and women reverted for a season to the licence of an earlier age. such saturnalias are not uncommon at some stages of social evolution. in our own country traces of them long survived in the practices of may day and whitsuntide, if not of christmas. children born of more or less promiscuous intercourse which characterises festivals of this kind would naturally be fathered on the god to whom the particular festival was dedicated. in this connexion it may be significant that a festival of jollity and drunkenness was celebrated by the plebeians and slaves at rome on midsummer day, and that the festival was specially associated with the fireborn king servius tullius, being held in honour of fortuna, the goddess who loved servius as egeria loved numa. the popular merrymakings at this season included foot-races and boat-races; the tiber was gay with flower-wreathed boats, in which young folk sat quaffing wine. the festival appears to have been a sort of midsummer saturnalia answering to the real saturnalia which fell at midwinter. in modern europe, as we shall learn later on, the great midsummer festival has been above all a festival of lovers and of fire; one of its principal features is the pairing of sweethearts, who leap over the bonfires hand in hand or throw flowers across the flames to each other. and many omens of love and marriage are drawn from the flowers which bloom at this mystic season. it is the time of the roses and of love. yet the innocence and beauty of such festivals in modern times ought not to blind us to the likelihood that in earlier days they were marked by coarser features, which were probably of the essence of the rites. indeed, among the rude esthonian peasantry these features seem to have lingered down to our own generation, if not to the present day. one other feature in the roman celebration of midsummer deserves to be specially noticed. the custom of rowing in flower-decked boats on the river on this day proves that it was to some extent a water festival; and water has always, down to modern times, played a conspicuous part in the rites of midsummer day, which explains why the church, in throwing its cloak over the old heathen festival, chose to dedicate it to st. john the baptist. the hypothesis that the latin kings may have been begotten at an annual festival of love is necessarily a mere conjecture, though the traditional birth of numa at the festival of the parilia, when shepherds leaped across the spring bonfires, as lovers leap across the midsummer fires, may perhaps be thought to lend it a faint colour of probability. but it is quite possible that the uncertainty as to their fathers may not have arisen till long after the death of the kings, when their figures began to melt away into the cloudland of fable, assuming fantastic shapes and gorgeous colouring as they passed from earth to heaven. if they were alien immigrants, strangers and pilgrims in the land they ruled over, it would be natural enough that the people should forget their lineage, and forgetting it should provide them with another, which made up in lustre what it lacked in truth. the final apotheosis, which represented the kings not merely as sprung from gods but as themselves deities incarnate, would be much facilitated if in their lifetime, as we have seen reason to think, they had actually laid claim to divinity. if among the latins the women of royal blood always stayed at home and received as their consorts men of another stock, and often of another country, who reigned as kings in virtue of their marriage with a native princess, we can understand not only why foreigners wore the crown at rome, but also why foreign names occur in the list of the alban kings. in a state of society where nobility is reckoned only through women--in other words, where descent through the mother is everything, and descent through the father is nothing--no objection will be felt to uniting girls of the highest rank to men of humble birth, even to aliens or slaves, provided that in themselves the men appear to be suitable mates. what really matters is that the royal stock, on which the prosperity and even the existence of the people is supposed to depend, should be perpetuated in a vigorous and efficient form, and for this purpose it is necessary that the women of the royal family should bear children to men who are physically and mentally fit, according to the standard of early society, to discharge the important duty of procreation. thus the personal qualities of the kings at this stage of social evolution are deemed of vital importance. if they, like their consorts, are of royal and divine descent, so much the better; but it is not essential that they should be so. at athens, as at rome, we find traces of succession to the throne by marriage with a royal princess; for two of the most ancient kings of athens, namely cecrops and amphictyon, are said to have married the daughters of their predecessors. this tradition is to a certain extent confirmed by evidence, pointing to the conclusion that at athens male kinship was preceded by female kinship. further, if i am right in supposing that in ancient latium the royal families kept their daughters at home and sent forth their sons to marry princesses and reign among their wives' people, it will follow that the male descendants would reign in successive generations over different kingdoms. now this seems to have happened both in ancient greece and in ancient sweden; from which we may legitimately infer that it was a custom practised by more than one branch of the aryan stock in europe. many greek traditions relate how a prince left his native land, and going to a far country married the king's daughter and succeeded to the kingdom. various reasons are assigned by ancient greek writers for these migrations of the princes. a common one is that the king's son had been banished for murder. this would explain very well why he fled his own land, but it is no reason at all why he should become king of another. we may suspect that such reasons are afterthoughts devised by writers, who, accustomed to the rule that a son should succeed to his father's property and kingdom, were hard put to it to account for so many traditions of kings' sons who quitted the land of their birth to reign over a foreign kingdom. in scandinavian tradition we meet with traces of similar customs. for we read of daughters' husbands who received a share of the kingdoms of their royal fathers-in-law, even when these fathers-in-law had sons of their own; in particular, during the five generations which preceded harold the fair-haired, male members of the ynglingar family, which is said to have come from sweden, are reported in the _heimskringla_ or _sagas of the norwegian kings_ to have obtained at least six provinces in norway by marriage with the daughters of the local kings. thus it would seem that among some aryan peoples, at a certain stage of their social evolution, it has been customary to regard women and not men as the channels in which royal blood flows, and to bestow the kingdom in each successive generation on a man of another family, and often of another country, who marries one of the princesses and reigns over his wife's people. a common type of popular tale, which relates how an adventurer, coming to a strange land, wins the hand of the king's daughter and with her the half or the whole of the kingdom, may well be a reminiscence of a real custom. where usages and ideas of this sort prevail, it is obvious that the kingship is merely an appanage of marriage with a woman of the blood royal. the old danish historian saxo grammaticus puts this view of the kingship very clearly in the mouth of hermutrude, a legendary queen of scotland. "indeed she was a queen," says hermutrude, "and but that her sex gainsaid it, might be deemed a king; nay (and this is yet truer), whomsoever she thought worthy of her bed was at once a king, and she yielded her kingdom with herself. thus her sceptre and her hand went together." the statement is all the more significant because it appears to reflect the actual practice of the pictish kings. we know from the testimony of bede that, whenever a doubt arose as to the succession, the picts chose their kings from the female rather than the male line. the personal qualities which recommended a man for a royal alliance and succession to the throne would naturally vary according to the popular ideas of the time and the character of the king or his substitute, but it is reasonable to suppose that among them in early society physical strength and beauty would hold a prominent place. sometimes apparently the right to the hand of the princess and to the throne has been determined by a race. the alitemnian libyans awarded the kingdom to the fleetest runner. amongst the old prussians, candidates for nobility raced on horseback to the king, and the one who reached him first was ennobled. according to tradition the earliest games at olympia were held by endymion, who set his sons to run a race for the kingdom. his tomb was said to be at the point of the racecourse from which the runners started. the famous story of pelops and hippodamia is perhaps only another version of the legend that the first races at olympia were run for no less a prize than a kingdom. these traditions may very well reflect a real custom of racing for a bride, for such a custom appears to have prevailed among various peoples, though in practice it has degenerated into a mere form or pretence. thus "there is one race, called the 'love chase,' which may be considered a part of the form of marriage among the kirghiz. in this the bride, armed with a formidable whip, mounts a fleet horse, and is pursued by all the young men who make any pretensions to her hand. she will be given as a prize to the one who catches her, but she has the right, besides urging on her horse to the utmost, to use her whip, often with no mean force, to keep off those lovers who are unwelcome to her, and she will probably favour the one whom she has already chosen in her heart." the race for the bride is found also among the koryaks of north-eastern asia. it takes place in a large tent, round which many separate compartments called _pologs_ are arranged in a continuous circle. the girl gets a start and is clear of the marriage if she can run through all the compartments without being caught by the bridegroom. the women of the encampment place every obstacle in the man's way, tripping him up, belabouring him with switches, and so forth, so that he has little chance of succeeding unless the girl wishes it and waits for him. similar customs appear to have been practised by all the teutonic peoples; for the german, anglo-saxon, and norse languages possess in common a word for marriage which means simply bride-race. moreover, traces of the custom survived into modern times. thus it appears that the right to marry a girl, and especially a princess, has often been conferred as a prize in an athletic contest. there would be no reason, therefore, for surprise if the roman kings, before bestowing their daughters in marriage, should have resorted to this ancient mode of testing the personal qualities of their future sons-in-law and successors. if my theory is correct, the roman king and queen personated jupiter and his divine consort, and in the character of these divinities went through the annual ceremony of a sacred marriage for the purpose of causing the crops to grow and men and cattle to be fruitful and multiply. thus they did what in more northern lands we may suppose the king and queen of may were believed to do in days of old. now we have seen that the right to play the part of the king of may and to wed the queen of may has sometimes been determined by an athletic contest, particularly by a race. this may have been a relic of an old marriage custom of the sort we have examined, a custom designed to test the fitness of a candidate for matrimony. such a test might reasonably be applied with peculiar rigour to the king in order to ensure that no personal defect should incapacitate him for the performance of those sacred rites and ceremonies on which, even more than on the despatch of his civil and military duties, the safety and prosperity of the community were believed to depend. and it would be natural to require of him that from time to time he should submit himself afresh to the same ordeal for the sake of publicly demonstrating that he was still equal to the discharge of his high calling. a relic of that test perhaps survived in the ceremony known as the flight of the king (_regifugium_), which continued to be annually observed at rome down to imperial times. on the twenty-fourth day of february a sacrifice used to be offered in the comitium, and when it was over the king of the sacred rites fled from the forum. we may conjecture that the flight of the king was originally a race for an annual kingship, which may have been awarded as a prize to the fleetest runner. at the end of the year the king might run again for a second term of office; and so on, until he was defeated and deposed or perhaps slain. in this way what had once been a race would tend to assume the character of a flight and a pursuit. the king would be given a start; he ran and his competitors ran after him, and if he were overtaken he had to yield the crown and perhaps his life to the lightest of foot among them. in time a man of masterful character might succeed in seating himself permanently on the throne and reducing the annual race or flight to the empty form which it seems always to have been within historical times. the rite was sometimes interpreted as a commemoration of the expulsion of the kings from rome; but this appears to have been a mere afterthought devised to explain a ceremony of which the old meaning was forgotten. it is far more likely that in acting thus the king of the sacred rites was merely keeping up an ancient custom which in the regal period had been annually observed by his predecessors the kings. what the original intention of the rite may have been must probably always remain more or less a matter of conjecture. the present explanation is suggested with a full sense of the difficulty and obscurity in which the subject is involved. thus if my theory is correct, the yearly flight of the roman king was a relic of a time when the kingship was an annual office awarded, along with the hand of a princess, to the victorious athlete or gladiator, who thereafter figured along with his bride as a god and goddess at a sacred marriage designed to ensure the fertility of the earth by homoeopathic magic. if i am right in supposing that in very early times the old latin kings personated a god and were regularly put to death in that character, we can better understand the mysterious or violent ends to which so many of them are said to have come. we have seen that, according to tradition, one of the kings of alba was killed by a thunderbolt for impiously mimicking the thunder of jupiter. romulus is said to have vanished mysteriously like aeneas, or to have been cut to pieces by the patricians whom he had offended, and the seventh of july, the day on which he perished, was a festival which bore some resemblance to the saturnalia. for on that day the female slaves were allowed to take certain remarkable liberties. they dressed up as free women in the attire of matrons and maids, and in this guise they went forth from the city, scoffed and jeered at all whom they met, and engaged among themselves in a fight, striking and throwing stones at each other. another roman king who perished by violence was tatius, the sabine colleague of romulus. it is said that he was at lavinium offering a public sacrifice to the ancestral gods, when some men, to whom he had given umbrage, despatched him with the sacrificial knives and spits which they had snatched from the altar. the occasion and the manner of his death suggest that the slaughter may have been a sacrifice rather than an assassination. again, tullus hostilius, the successor of numa, was commonly said to have been killed by lightning, but many held that he was murdered at the instigation of ancus marcius, who reigned after him. speaking of the more or less mythical numa, the type of the priestly king, plutarch observes that "his fame was enhanced by the fortunes of the later kings. for of the five who reigned after him the last was deposed and ended his life in exile, and of the remaining four not one died a natural death; for three of them were assassinated and tullus hostilius was consumed by thunderbolts." these legends of the violent ends of the roman kings suggest that the contest by which they gained the throne may sometimes have been a mortal combat rather than a race. if that were so, the analogy which we have traced between rome and nemi would be still closer. at both places the sacred kings, the living representatives of the godhead, would thus be liable to suffer deposition and death at the hand of any resolute man who could prove his divine right to the holy office by the strong arm and the sharp sword. it would not be surprising if among the early latins the claim to the kingdom should often have been settled by single combat; for down to historical times the umbrians regularly submitted their private disputes to the ordeal of battle, and he who cut his adversary's throat was thought thereby to have proved the justice of his cause beyond the reach of cavil. xv. the worship of the oak the worship of the oak tree or of the oak god appears to have been shared by all the branches of the aryan stock in europe. both greeks and italians associated the tree with their highest god, zeus or jupiter, the divinity of the sky, the rain, and the thunder. perhaps the oldest and certainly one of the most famous sanctuaries in greece was that of dodona, where zeus was revered in the oracular oak. the thunder-storms which are said to rage at dodona more frequently than anywhere else in europe, would render the spot a fitting home for the god whose voice was heard alike in the rustling of the oak leaves and in the crash of thunder. perhaps the bronze gongs which kept up a humming in the wind round the sanctuary were meant to mimick the thunder that might so often be heard rolling and rumbling in the coombs of the stern and barren mountains which shut in the gloomy valley. in boeotia, as we have seen, the sacred marriage of zeus and hera, the oak god and the oak goddess, appears to have been celebrated with much pomp by a religious federation of states. and on mount lycaeus in arcadia the character of zeus as god both of the oak and of the rain comes out clearly in the rain charm practised by the priest of zeus, who dipped an oak branch in a sacred spring. in his latter capacity zeus was the god to whom the greeks regularly prayed for rain. nothing could be more natural; for often, though not always, he had his seat on the mountains where the clouds gather and the oaks grow. on the acropolis at athens there was an image of earth praying to zeus for rain. and in time of drought the athenians themselves prayed, "rain, rain, o dear zeus, on the cornland of the athenians and on the plains." again, zeus wielded the thunder and lightning as well as the rain. at olympia and elsewhere he was worshipped under the surname of thunderbolt; and at athens there was a sacrificial hearth of lightning zeus on the city wall, where some priestly officials watched for lightning over mount parnes at certain seasons of the year. further, spots which had been struck by lightning were regularly fenced in by the greeks and consecrated to zeus the descender, that is, to the god who came down in the flash from heaven. altars were set up within these enclosures and sacrifices offered on them. several such places are known from inscriptions to have existed in athens. thus when ancient greek kings claimed to be descended from zeus, and even to bear his name, we may reasonably suppose that they also attempted to exercise his divine functions by making thunder and rain for the good of their people or the terror and confusion of their foes. in this respect the legend of salmoneus probably reflects the pretensions of a whole class of petty sovereigns who reigned of old, each over his little canton, in the oak-clad highlands of greece. like their kinsmen the irish kings, they were expected to be a source of fertility to the land and of fecundity to the cattle; and how could they fulfil these expectations better than by acting the part of their kinsman zeus, the great god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain? they personified him, apparently, just as the italian kings personified jupiter. in ancient italy every oak was sacred to jupiter, the italian counterpart of zeus; and on the capitol at rome the god was worshipped as the deity not merely of the oak, but of the rain and the thunder. contrasting the piety of the good old times with the scepticism of an age when nobody thought that heaven was heaven, or cared a fig for jupiter, a roman writer tells us that in former days noble matrons used to go with bare feet, streaming hair, and pure minds, up the long capitoline slope, praying to jupiter for rain. and straightway, he goes on, it rained bucketsful, then or never, and everybody returned dripping like drowned rats. "but nowadays," says he, "we are no longer religious, so the fields lie baking." when we pass from southern to central europe we still meet with the great god of the oak and the thunder among the barbarous aryans who dwelt in the vast primaeval forests. thus among the celts of gaul the druids esteemed nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the oak on which it grew; they chose groves of oaks for the scene of their solemn service, and they performed none of their rites without oak leaves. "the celts," says a greek writer, "worship zeus, and the celtic image of zeus is a tall oak." the celtic conquerors, who settled in asia in the third century before our era, appear to have carried the worship of the oak with them to their new home; for in the heart of asia minor the galatian senate met in a place which bore the pure celtic name of drynemetum, "the sacred oak grove" or "the temple of the oak." indeed the very name of druids is believed by good authorities to mean no more than "oak men." in the religion of the ancient germans the veneration for sacred groves seems to have held the foremost place, and according to grimm the chief of their holy trees was the oak. it appears to have been especially dedicated to the god of thunder, donar or thunar, the equivalent of the norse thor; for a sacred oak near geismar, in hesse, which boniface cut down in the eighth century, went among the heathen by the name of jupiter's oak (_robur jovis_), which in old german would be _donares eih,_ "the oak of donar." that the teutonic thunder god donar, thunar, thor was identified with the italian thunder god jupiter appears from our word thursday, thunar's day, which is merely a rendering of the latin _dies jovis._ thus among the ancient teutons, as among the greeks and italians, the god of the oak was also the god of the thunder. moreover, he was regarded as the great fertilising power, who sent rain and caused the earth to bear fruit; for adam of bremen tells us that "thor presides in the air; he it is who rules thunder and lightning, wind and rains, fine weather and crops." in these respects, therefore, the teutonic thunder god again resembled his southern counterparts zeus and jupiter. amongst the slavs also the oak appears to have been the sacred tree of the thunder god perun, the counterpart of zeus and jupiter. it is said that at novgorod there used to stand an image of perun in the likeness of a man with a thunder-stone in his hand. a fire of oak wood burned day and night in his honour; and if ever it went out the attendants paid for their negligence with their lives. perun seems, like zeus and jupiter, to have been the chief god of his people; for procopius tells us that the slavs "believe that one god, the maker of lightning, is alone lord of all things, and they sacrifice to him oxen and every victim." the chief deity of the lithuanians was perkunas or perkuns, the god of thunder and lightning, whose resemblance to zeus and jupiter has often been pointed out. oaks were sacred to him, and when they were cut down by the christian missionaries, the people loudly complained that their sylvan deities were destroyed. perpetual fires, kindled with the wood of certain oak-trees, were kept up in honour of perkunas; if such a fire went out, it was lighted again by friction of the sacred wood. men sacrificed to oak-trees for good crops, while women did the same to lime-trees; from which we may infer that they regarded oaks as male and lime-trees as female. and in time of drought, when they wanted rain, they used to sacrifice a black heifer, a black he-goat, and a black cock to the thunder god in the depths of the woods. on such occasions the people assembled in great numbers from the country round about, ate and drank, and called upon perkunas. they carried a bowl of beer thrice round the fire, then poured the liquor on the flames, while they prayed to the god to send showers. thus the chief lithuanian deity presents a close resemblance to zeus and jupiter, since he was the god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain. from the foregoing survey it appears that a god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain was worshipped of old by all the main branches of the aryan stock in europe, and was indeed the chief deity of their pantheon. xvi. dianus and diana in this chapter i propose to recapitulate the conclusions to which the enquiry has thus far led us, and drawing together the scattered rays of light, to turn them on the dark figure of the priest of nemi. we have found that at an early stage of society men, ignorant of the secret processes of nature and of the narrow limits within which it is in our power to control and direct them, have commonly arrogated to themselves functions which in the present state of knowledge we should deem superhuman or divine. the illusion has been fostered and maintained by the same causes which begot it, namely, the marvellous order and uniformity with which nature conducts her operations, the wheels of her great machine revolving with a smoothness and precision which enable the patient observer to anticipate in general the season, if not the very hour, when they will bring round the fulfilment of his hopes or the accomplishment of his fears. the regularly recurring events of this great cycle, or rather series of cycles, soon stamp themselves even on the dull mind of the savage. he foresees them, and foreseeing them mistakes the desired recurrence for an effect of his own will, and the dreaded recurrence for an effect of the will of his enemies. thus the springs which set the vast machine in motion, though they lie far beyond our ken, shrouded in a mystery which we can never hope to penetrate, appear to ignorant man to lie within his reach: he fancies he can touch them and so work by magic art all manner of good to himself and evil to his foes. in time the fallacy of this belief becomes apparent to him: he discovers that there are things he cannot do, pleasures which he is unable of himself to procure, pains which even the most potent magician is powerless to avoid. the unattainable good, the inevitable ill, are now ascribed by him to the action of invisible powers, whose favour is joy and life, whose anger is misery and death. thus magic tends to be displaced by religion, and the sorcerer by the priest. at this stage of thought the ultimate causes of things are conceived to be personal beings, many in number and often discordant in character, who partake of the nature and even of the frailty of man, though their might is greater than his, and their life far exceeds the span of his ephemeral existence. their sharply-marked individualities, their clear-cut outlines have not yet begun, under the powerful solvent of philosophy, to melt and coalesce into that single unknown substratum of phenomena which, according to the qualities with which our imagination invests it, goes by one or other of the high-sounding names which the wit of man has devised to hide his ignorance. accordingly, so long as men look on their gods as beings akin to themselves and not raised to an unapproachable height above them, they believe it to be possible for those of their own number who surpass their fellows to attain to the divine rank after death or even in life. incarnate human deities of this latter sort may be said to halt midway between the age of magic and the age of religion. if they bear the names and display the pomp of deities, the powers which they are supposed to wield are commonly those of their predecessor the magician. like him, they are expected to guard their people against hostile enchantments, to heal them in sickness, to bless them with offspring, and to provide them with an abundant supply of food by regulating the weather and performing the other ceremonies which are deemed necessary to ensure the fertility of the earth and the multiplication of animals. men who are credited with powers so lofty and far-reaching naturally hold the highest place in the land, and while the rift between the spiritual and the temporal spheres has not yet widened too far, they are supreme in civil as well as religious matters: in a word, they are kings as well as gods. thus the divinity which hedges a king has its roots deep down in human history, and long ages pass before these are sapped by a profounder view of nature and man. in the classical period of greek and latin antiquity the reign of kings was for the most part a thing of the past; yet the stories of their lineage, titles, and pretensions suffice to prove that they too claimed to rule by divine right and to exercise superhuman powers. hence we may without undue temerity assume that the king of the wood at nemi, though shorn in later times of his glory and fallen on evil days, represented a long line of sacred kings who had once received not only the homage but the adoration of their subjects in return for the manifold blessings which they were supposed to dispense. what little we know of the functions of diana in the arician grove seems to prove that she was here conceived as a goddess of fertility, and particularly as a divinity of childbirth. it is reasonable, therefore, to suppose that in the discharge of these important duties she was assisted by her priest, the two figuring as king and queen of the wood in a solemn marriage, which was intended to make the earth gay with the blossoms of spring and the fruits of autumn, and to gladden the hearts of men and women with healthful offspring. if the priest of nemi posed not merely as a king, but as a god of the grove, we have still to ask, what deity in particular did he personate? the answer of antiquity is that he represented virbius, the consort or lover of diana. but this does not help us much, for of virbius we know little more than the name. a clue to the mystery is perhaps supplied by the vestal fire which burned in the grove. for the perpetual holy fires of the aryans in europe appear to have been commonly kindled and fed with oak-wood, and in rome itself, not many miles from nemi, the fuel of the vestal fire consisted of oaken sticks or logs, as has been proved by a microscopic analysis of the charred embers of the vestal fire, which were discovered by commendatore g. boni in the course of the memorable excavations which he conducted in the roman forum at the end of the nineteenth century. but the ritual of the various latin towns seems to have been marked by great uniformity; hence it is reasonable to conclude that wherever in latium a vestal fire was maintained, it was fed, as at rome, with wood of the sacred oak. if this was so at nemi, it becomes probable that the hallowed grove there consisted of a natural oak-wood, and that therefore the tree which the king of the wood had to guard at the peril of his life was itself an oak; indeed, it was from an evergreen oak, according to virgil, that aeneas plucked the golden bough. now the oak was the sacred tree of jupiter, the supreme god of the latins. hence it follows that the king of the wood, whose life was bound up in a fashion with an oak, personated no less a deity than jupiter himself. at least the evidence, slight as it is, seems to point to this conclusion. the old alban dynasty of the silvii or woods, with their crown of oak leaves, apparently aped the style and emulated the powers of latian jupiter, who dwelt on the top of the alban mount. it is not impossible that the king of the wood, who guarded the sacred oak a little lower down the mountain, was the lawful successor and representative of this ancient line of the silvii or woods. at all events, if i am right in supposing that he passed for a human jupiter, it would appear that virbius, with whom legend identified him, was nothing but a local form of jupiter, considered perhaps in his original aspect as a god of the greenwood. the hypothesis that in later times at all events the king of the wood played the part of the oak god jupiter, is confirmed by an examination of his divine partner diana. for two distinct lines of argument converge to show that if diana was a queen of the woods in general, she was at nemi a goddess of the oak in particular. in the first place, she bore the title of vesta, and as such presided over a perpetual fire, which we have seen reason to believe was fed with oak wood. but a goddess of fire is not far removed from a goddess of the fuel which burns in the fire; primitive thought perhaps drew no sharp line of distinction between the blaze and the wood that blazes. in the second place, the nymph egeria at nemi appears to have been merely a form of diana, and egeria is definitely said to have been a dryad, a nymph of the oak. elsewhere in italy the goddess had her home on oak-clad mountains. thus mount algidus, a spur of the alban hills, was covered in antiquity with dark forests of oak, both of the evergreen and the deciduous sort. in winter the snow lay long on these cold hills, and their gloomy oak-woods were believed to be a favourite haunt of diana, as they have been of brigands in modern times. again, mount tifata, the long abrupt ridge of the apennines which looks down on the campanian plain behind capua, was wooded of old with evergreen oaks, among which diana had a temple. here sulla thanked the goddess for his victory over the marians in the plain below, attesting his gratitude by inscriptions which were long afterwards to be seen in the temple. on the whole, then, we conclude that at nemi the king of the wood personated the oak-god jupiter and mated with the oak-goddess diana in the sacred grove. an echo of their mystic union has come down to us in the legend of the loves of numa and egeria, who according to some had their trysting-place in these holy woods. to this theory it may naturally be objected that the divine consort of jupiter was not diana but juno, and that if diana had a mate at all he might be expected to bear the name not of jupiter, but of dianus or janus, the latter of these forms being merely a corruption of the former. all this is true, but the objection may be parried by observing that the two pairs of deities, jupiter and juno on the one side, and dianus and diana, or janus and jana, on the other side, are merely duplicates of each other, their names and their functions being in substance and origin identical. with regard to their names, all four of them come from the same aryan root _di,_ meaning "bright," which occurs in the names of the corresponding greek deities, zeus and his old female consort dione. in regard to their functions, juno and diana were both goddesses of fecundity and childbirth, and both were sooner or later identified with the moon. as to the true nature and functions of janus the ancients themselves were puzzled; and where they hesitated, it is not for us confidently to decide. but the view mentioned by varro that janus was the god of the sky is supported not only by the etymological identity of his name with that of the sky-god jupiter, but also by the relation in which he appears to have stood to jupiter's two mates, juno and juturna. for the epithet junonian bestowed on janus points to a marriage union between the two deities; and according to one account janus was the husband of the water-nymph juturna, who according to others was beloved by jupiter. moreover, janus, like jove, was regularly invoked, and commonly spoken of under the title of father. indeed, he was identified with jupiter not merely by the logic of the learned st. augustine, but by the piety of a pagan worshipper who dedicated an offering to jupiter dianus. a trace of his relation to the oak may be found in the oakwoods of the janiculum, the hill on the right bank of the tiber, where janus is said to have reigned as a king in the remotest ages of italian history. thus, if i am right, the same ancient pair of deities was variously known among the greek and italian peoples as zeus and dione, jupiter and juno, or dianus (janus) and diana (jana), the names of the divinities being identical in substance, though varying in form with the dialect of the particular tribe which worshipped them. at first, when the peoples dwelt near each other, the difference between the deities would be hardly more than one of name; in other words, it would be almost purely dialectical. but the gradual dispersion of the tribes, and their consequent isolation from each other, would favour the growth of divergent modes of conceiving and worshipping the gods whom they had carried with them from their old home, so that in time discrepancies of myth and ritual would tend to spring up and thereby to convert a nominal into a real distinction between the divinities. accordingly when, with the slow progress of culture, the long period of barbarism and separation was passing away, and the rising political power of a single strong community had begun to draw or hammer its weaker neighbours into a nation, the confluent peoples would throw their gods, like their dialects, into a common stock; and thus it might come about that the same ancient deities, which their forefathers had worshipped together before the dispersion, would now be so disguised by the accumulated effect of dialectical and religious divergencies that their original identity might fail to be recognised, and they would take their places side by side as independent divinities in the national pantheon. this duplication of deities, the result of the final fusion of kindred tribes who had long lived apart, would account for the appearance of janus beside jupiter, and of diana or jana beside juno in the roman religion. at least this appears to be a more probable theory than the opinion, which has found favour with some modern scholars, that janus was originally nothing but the god of doors. that a deity of his dignity and importance, whom the romans revered as a god of gods and the father of his people, should have started in life as a humble, though doubtless respectable, doorkeeper appears very unlikely. so lofty an end hardly consorts with so lowly a beginning. it is more probable that the door (_janua_) got its name from janus than that he got his name from it. this view is strengthened by a consideration of the word _janua_ itself. the regular word for door is the same in all the languages of the aryan family from india to ireland. it is _dur_ in sanscrit, _thura_ in greek, _tür_ in german, _door_ in english, _dorus_ in old irish, and _foris_ in latin. yet besides this ordinary name for door, which the latins shared with all their aryan brethren, they had also the name _janua,_ to which there is no corresponding term in any indo-european speech. the word has the appearance of being an adjectival form derived from the noun _janus._ i conjecture that it may have been customary to set up an image or symbol of janus at the principal door of the house in order to place the entrance under the protection of the great god. a door thus guarded might be known as a _janua foris,_ that is, a januan door, and the phrase might in time be abridged into _janua,_ the noun _foris_ being understood but not expressed. from this to the use of _janua_ to designate a door in general, whether guarded by an image of janus or not, would be an easy and natural transition. if there is any truth in this conjecture, it may explain very simply the origin of the double head of janus, which has so long exercised the ingenuity of mythologists. when it had become customary to guard the entrance of houses and towns by an image of janus, it might well be deemed necessary to make the sentinel god look both ways, before and behind, at the same time, in order that nothing should escape his vigilant eye. for if the divine watchman always faced in one direction, it is easy to imagine what mischief might have been wrought with impunity behind his back. this explanation of the double-headed janus at rome is confirmed by the double-headed idol which the bush negroes in the interior of surinam regularly set up as a guardian at the entrance of a village. the idol consists of a block of wood with a human face rudely carved on each side; it stands under a gateway composed of two uprights and a cross-bar. beside the idol generally lies a white rag intended to keep off the devil; and sometimes there is also a stick which seems to represent a bludgeon or weapon of some sort. further, from the cross-bar hangs a small log which serves the useful purpose of knocking on the head any evil spirit who might attempt to pass through the gateway. clearly this double-headed fetish at the gateway of the negro villages in surinam bears a close resemblance to the double-headed images of janus which, grasping a stick in one hand and a key in the other, stood sentinel at roman gates and doorways; and we can hardly doubt that in both cases the heads facing two ways are to be similarly explained as expressive of the vigilance of the guardian god, who kept his eye on spiritual foes behind and before, and stood ready to bludgeon them on the spot. we may, therefore, dispense with the tedious and unsatisfactory explanations which, if we may trust ovid, the wily janus himself fobbed off an anxious roman enquirer. to apply these conclusions to the priest of nemi, we may suppose that as the mate of diana he represented originally dianus or janus rather than jupiter, but that the difference between these deities was of old merely superficial, going little deeper than the names, and leaving practically unaffected the essential functions of the god as a power of the sky, the thunder, and the oak. it was fitting, therefore, that his human representative at nemi should dwell, as we have seen reason to believe he did, in an oak grove. his title of king of the wood clearly indicates the sylvan character of the deity whom he served; and since he could only be assailed by him who had plucked the bough of a certain tree in the grove, his own life might be said to be bound up with that of the sacred tree. thus he not only served but embodied the great aryan god of the oak; and as an oak-god he would mate with the oak-goddess, whether she went by the name of egeria or diana. their union, however consummated, would be deemed essential to the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of man and beast. further, as the oak-god was also a god of the sky, the thunder, and the rain, so his human representative would be required, like many other divine kings, to cause the clouds to gather, the thunder to peal, and the rain to descend in due season, that the fields and orchards might bear fruit and the pastures be covered with luxuriant herbage. the reputed possessor of powers so exalted must have been a very important personage; and the remains of buildings and of votive offerings which have been found on the site of the sanctuary combine with the testimony of classical writers to prove that in later times it was one of the greatest and most popular shrines in italy. even in the old days, when the champaign country around was still parcelled out among the petty tribes who composed the latin league, the sacred grove is known to have been an object of their common reverence and care. and just as the kings of cambodia used to send offerings to the mystic kings of fire and water far in the dim depths of the tropical forest, so, we may well believe, from all sides of the broad latian plain the eyes and footsteps of italian pilgrims turned to the quarter where, standing sharply out against the faint blue line of the apennines or the deeper blue of the distant sea, the alban mountain rose before them, the home of the mysterious priest of nemi, the king of the wood. there, among the green woods and beside the still waters of the lonely hills, the ancient aryan worship of the god of the oak, the thunder, and the dripping sky lingered in its early, almost druidical form, long after a great political and intellectual revolution had shifted the capital of latin religion from the forest to the city, from nemi to rome. xvii. the burden of royalty . royal and priestly taboos at a certain stage of early society the king or priest is often thought to be endowed with supernatural powers or to be an incarnation of a deity, and consistently with this belief the course of nature is supposed to be more or less under his control, and he is held responsible for bad weather, failure of the crops, and similar calamities. to some extent it appears to be assumed that the king's power over nature, like that over his subjects and slaves, is exerted through definite acts of will; and therefore if drought, famine, pestilence, or storms arise, the people attribute the misfortune to the negligence or guilt of their king, and punish him accordingly with stripes and bonds, or, if he remains obdurate, with deposition and death. sometimes, however, the course of nature, while regarded as dependent on the king, is supposed to be partly independent of his will. his person is considered, if we may express it so, as the dynamical centre of the universe, from which lines of force radiate to all quarters of the heaven; so that any motion of his--the turning of his head, the lifting of his hand--instantaneously affects and may seriously disturb some part of nature. he is the point of support on which hangs the balance of the world, and the slightest irregularity on his part may overthrow the delicate equipoise. the greatest care must, therefore, be taken both by and of him; and his whole life, down to its minutest details, must be so regulated that no act of his, voluntary or involuntary, may disarrange or upset the established order of nature. of this class of monarchs the mikado or dairi, the spiritual emperor of japan, is or rather used to be a typical example. he is an incarnation of the sun goddess, the deity who rules the universe, gods and men included; once a year all the gods wait upon him and spend a month at his court. during that month, the name of which means "without gods," no one frequents the temples, for they are believed to be deserted. the mikado receives from his people and assumes in his official proclamations and decrees the title of "manifest or incarnate deity," and he claims a general authority over the gods of japan. for example, in an official decree of the year the emperor is described as "the incarnate god who governs the universe." the following description of the mikado's mode of life was written about two hundred years ago: "even to this day the princes descended of this family, more particularly those who sit on the throne, are looked upon as persons most holy in themselves, and as popes by birth. and, in order to preserve these advantageous notions in the minds of their subjects, they are obliged to take an uncommon care of their sacred persons, and to do such things, which, examined according to the customs of other nations, would be thought ridiculous and impertinent. it will not be improper to give a few instances of it. he thinks that it would be very prejudicial to his dignity and holiness to touch the ground with his feet; for this reason, when he intends to go anywhere, he must be carried thither on men's shoulders. much less will they suffer that he should expose his sacred person to the open air, and the sun is not thought worthy to shine on his head. there is such a holiness ascribed to all the parts of his body that he dares to cut off neither his hair, nor his beard, nor his nails. however, lest he should grow too dirty, they may clean him in the night when he is asleep; because, they say, that which is taken from his body at that time, hath been stolen from him, and that such a theft doth not prejudice his holiness or dignity. in ancient times, he was obliged to sit on the throne for some hours every morning, with the imperial crown on his head, but to sit altogether like a statue, without stirring either hands or feet, head or eyes, nor indeed any part of his body, because, by this means, it was thought that he could preserve peace and tranquillity in his empire; for if, unfortunately, he turned himself on one side or the other, or if he looked a good while towards any part of his dominions, it was apprehended that war, famine, fire, or some other great misfortune was near at hand to desolate the country. but it having been afterwards discovered, that the imperial crown was the palladium, which by its immobility could preserve peace in the empire, it was thought expedient to deliver his imperial person, consecrated only to idleness and pleasures, from this burthensome duty, and therefore the crown is at present placed on the throne for some hours every morning. his victuals must be dressed every time in new pots, and served at table in new dishes: both are very clean and neat, but made only of common clay; that without any considerable expense they may be laid aside, or broke, after they have served once. they are generally broke, for fear they should come into the hands of laymen, for they believe religiously, that if any layman should presume to eat his food out of these sacred dishes, it would swell and inflame his mouth and throat. the like ill effect is dreaded from the dairi's sacred habits; for they believe that if a layman should wear them, without the emperor's express leave or command, they would occasion swellings and pains in all parts of his body." to the same effect an earlier account of the mikado says: "it was considered as a shameful degradation for him even to touch the ground with his foot. the sun and moon were not even permitted to shine upon his head. none of the superfluities of the body were ever taken from him, neither his hair, his beard, nor his nails were cut. whatever he eat was dressed in new vessels." similar priestly or rather divine kings are found, at a lower level of barbarism, on the west coast of africa. at shark point near cape padron, in lower guinea, lives the priestly king kukulu, alone in a wood. he may not touch a woman nor leave his house; indeed he may not even quit his chair, in which he is obliged to sleep sitting, for if he lay down no wind would arise and navigation would be stopped. he regulates storms, and in general maintains a wholesome and equable state of the atmosphere. on mount agu in togo there lives a fetish or spirit called bagba, who is of great importance for the whole of the surrounding country. the power of giving or withholding rain is ascribed to him, and he is lord of the winds, including the harmattan, the dry, hot wind which blows from the interior. his priest dwells in a house on the highest peak of the mountain, where he keeps the winds bottled up in huge jars. applications for rain, too, are made to him, and he does a good business in amulets, which consist of the teeth and claws of leopards. yet though his power is great and he is indeed the real chief of the land, the rule of the fetish forbids him ever to leave the mountain, and he must spend the whole of his life on its summit. only once a year may he come down to make purchases in the market; but even then he may not set foot in the hut of any mortal man, and must return to his place of exile the same day. the business of government in the villages is conducted by subordinate chiefs, who are appointed by him. in the west african kingdom of congo there was a supreme pontiff called chitomé or chitombé, whom the negroes regarded as a god on earth and all-powerful in heaven. hence before they would taste the new crops they offered him the first-fruits, fearing that manifold misfortunes would befall them if they broke this rule. when he left his residence to visit other places within his jurisdiction, all married people had to observe strict continence the whole time he was out; for it was supposed that any act of incontinence would prove fatal to him. and if he were to die a natural death, they thought that the world would perish, and the earth, which he alone sustained by his power and merit, would immediately be annihilated. amongst the semi-barbarous nations of the new world, at the date of the spanish conquest, there were found hierarchies or theocracies like those of japan; in particular, the high pontiff of the zapotecs appears to have presented a close parallel to the mikado. a powerful rival to the king himself, this spiritual lord governed yopaa, one of the chief cities of the kingdom, with absolute dominion. it is impossible, we are told, to overrate the reverence in which he was held. he was looked on as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold nor the sun to shine upon. he profaned his sanctity if he even touched the ground with his foot. the officers who bore his palanquin on their shoulders were members of the highest families: he hardly deigned to look on anything around him; and all who met him fell with their faces to the earth, fearing that death would overtake them if they saw even his shadow. a rule of continence was regularly imposed on the zapotec priests, especially upon the high pontiff; but "on certain days in each year, which were generally celebrated with feasts and dances, it was customary for the high priest to become drunk. while in this state, seeming to belong neither to heaven nor to earth, one of the most beautiful of the virgins consecrated to the service of the gods was brought to him." if the child she bore him was a son, he was brought up as a prince of the blood, and the eldest son succeeded his father on the pontifical throne. the supernatural powers attributed to this pontiff are not specified, but probably they resembled those of the mikado and chitomé. wherever, as in japan and west africa, it is supposed that the order of nature, and even the existence of the world, is bound up with the life of the king or priest, it is clear that he must be regarded by his subjects as a source both of infinite blessing and of infinite danger. on the one hand, the people have to thank him for the rain and sunshine which foster the fruits of the earth, for the wind which brings ships to their coasts, and even for the solid ground beneath their feet. but what he gives he can refuse; and so close is the dependence of nature on his person, so delicate the balance of the system of forces whereof he is the centre, that the least irregularity on his part may set up a tremor which shall shake the earth to its foundations. and if nature may be disturbed by the slightest involuntary act of the king, it is easy to conceive the convulsion which his death might provoke. the natural death of the chitomé, as we have seen, was thought to entail the destruction of all things. clearly, therefore, out of a regard for their own safety, which might be imperilled by any rash act of the king, and still more by his death, the people will exact of their king or priest a strict conformity to those rules, the observance of which is deemed necessary for his own preservation, and consequently for the preservation of his people and the world. the idea that early kingdoms are despotisms in which the people exist only for the sovereign, is wholly inapplicable to the monarchies we are considering. on the contrary, the sovereign in them exists only for his subjects; his life is only valuable so long as he discharges the duties of his position by ordering the course of nature for his people's benefit. so soon as he fails to do so, the care, the devotion, the religious homage which they had hitherto lavished on him cease and are changed into hatred and contempt; he is dismissed ignominiously, and may be thankful if he escapes with his life. worshipped as a god one day, he is killed as a criminal the next. but in this changed behaviour of the people there is nothing capricious or inconsistent. on the contrary, their conduct is entirely of a piece. if their king is their god, he is or should be also their preserver; and if he will not preserve them, he must make room for another who will. so long, however, as he answers their expectations, there is no limit to the care which they take of him, and which they compel him to take of himself. a king of this sort lives hedged in by a ceremonious etiquette, a network of prohibitions and observances, of which the intention is not to contribute to his dignity, much less to his comfort, but to restrain him from conduct which, by disturbing the harmony of nature, might involve himself, his people, and the universe in one common catastrophe. far from adding to his comfort, these observances, by trammelling his every act, annihilate his freedom and often render the very life, which it is their object to preserve, a burden and sorrow to him. of the supernaturally endowed kings of loango it is said that the more powerful a king is, the more taboos is he bound to observe; they regulate all his actions, his walking and his standing, his eating and drinking, his sleeping and waking. to these restraints the heir to the throne is subject from infancy; but as he advances in life the number of abstinences and ceremonies which he must observe increases, "until at the moment that he ascends the throne he is lost in the ocean of rites and taboos." in the crater of an extinct volcano, enclosed on all sides by grassy slopes, lie the scattered huts and yam-fields of riabba, the capital of the native king of fernando po. this mysterious being lives in the lowest depths of the crater, surrounded by a harem of forty women, and covered, it is said, with old silver coins. naked savage as he is, he yet exercises far more influence in the island than the spanish governor at santa isabel. in him the conservative spirit of the boobies or aboriginal inhabitants of the island is, as it were, incorporate. he has never seen a white man and, according to the firm conviction of all the boobies, the sight of a pale face would cause his instant death. he cannot bear to look upon the sea; indeed it is said that he may never see it even in the distance, and that therefore he wears away his life with shackles on his legs in the dim twilight of his hut. certain it is that he has never set foot on the beach. with the exception of his musket and knife, he uses nothing that comes from the whites; european cloth never touches his person, and he scorns tobacco, rum, and even salt. among the ewe-speaking peoples of the slave coast "the king is at the same time high priest. in this quality he was, particularly in former times, unapproachable by his subjects. only by night was he allowed to quit his dwelling in order to bathe and so forth. none but his representative, the so-called 'visible king,' with three chosen elders might converse with him, and even they had to sit on an ox-hide with their backs turned to him. he might not see any european nor any horse, nor might he look upon the sea, for which reason he was not allowed to quit his capital even for a few moments. these rules have been disregarded in recent times." the king of dahomey himself is subject to the prohibition of beholding the sea, and so are the kings of loango and great ardra in guinea. the sea is the fetish of the eyeos, to the north-west of dahomey, and they and their king are threatened with death by their priests if ever they dare to look on it. it is believed that the king of cayor in senegal would infallibly die within the year if he were to cross a river or an arm of the sea. in mashonaland down to recent times the chiefs would not cross certain rivers, particularly the rurikwi and the nyadiri; and the custom was still strictly observed by at least one chief within recent years. "on no account will the chief cross the river. if it is absolutely necessary for him to do so, he is blindfolded and carried across with shouting and singing. should he walk across, he will go blind or die and certainly lose the chieftainship." so among the mahafalys and sakalavas in the south of madagascar some kings are forbidden to sail on the sea or to cross certain rivers. among the sakalavas the chief is regarded as a sacred being, but "he is held in leash by a crowd of restrictions, which regulate his behaviour like that of the emperor of china. he can undertake nothing whatever unless the sorcerers have declared the omens favourable; he may not eat warm food: on certain days he may not quit his hut; and so on." among some of the hill tribes of assam both the headman and his wife have to observe many taboos in respect of food; thus they may not eat buffalo, pork, dog, fowl, or tomatoes. the headman must be chaste, the husband of one wife, and he must separate himself from her on the eve of a general or public observance of taboo. in one group of tribes the headman is forbidden to eat in a strange village, and under no provocation whatever may he utter a word of abuse. apparently the people imagine that the violation of any of these taboos by a headman would bring down misfortune on the whole village. the ancient kings of ireland, as well as the kings of the four provinces of leinster, munster, connaught, and ulster, were subject to certain quaint prohibitions or taboos, on the due observance of which the prosperity of the people of the country, as well as their own, was supposed to depend. thus, for example, the sun might not rise on the king of ireland in his bed at tara, the old capital of erin; he was forbidden to alight on wednesday at magh breagh, to traverse magh cuillinn after sunset, to incite his horse at fan-chomair, to go in a ship upon the water the monday after bealltaine (may day), and to leave the track of his army upon ath maighne the tuesday after all-hallows. the king of leinster might not go round tuath laighean left-hand-wise on wednesday, nor sleep between the dothair (dodder) and the duibhlinn with his head inclining to one side, nor encamp for nine days on the plains of cualann, nor travel the road of duibhlinn on monday, nor ride a dirty black-heeled horse across magh maistean. the king of munster was prohibited from enjoying the feast of loch lein from one monday to another; from banqueting by night in the beginning of harvest before geim at leitreacha; from encamping for nine days upon the siuir; and from holding a border meeting at gabhran. the king of connaught might not conclude a treaty respecting his ancient palace of cruachan after making peace on all-hallows day, nor go in a speckled garment on a grey speckled steed to the heath of dal chais, nor repair to an assembly of women at seaghais, nor sit in autumn on the sepulchral mounds of the wife of maine, nor contend in running with the rider of a grey one-eyed horse at ath gallta between two posts. the king of ulster was forbidden to attend the horse fair at rath line among the youths of dal araidhe, to listen to the fluttering of the flocks of birds of linn saileach after sunset, to celebrate the feast of the bull of daire-mic-daire, to go into magh cobha in the month of march, and to drink of the water of bo neimhidh between two darknesses. if the kings of ireland strictly observed these and many other customs, which were enjoined by immemorial usage, it was believed that they would never meet with mischance or misfortune, and would live for ninety years without experiencing the decay of old age; that no epidemic or mortality would occur during their reigns; and that the seasons would be favourable and the earth yield its fruit in abundance; whereas, if they set the ancient usages at naught, the country would be visited with plague, famine, and bad weather. the kings of egypt were worshipped as gods, and the routine of their daily life was regulated in every detail by precise and unvarying rules. "the life of the kings of egypt," says diodorus, "was not like that of other monarchs who are irresponsible and may do just what they choose; on the contrary, everything was fixed for them by law, not only their official duties, but even the details of their daily life. . . . the hours both of day and night were arranged at which the king had to do, not what he pleased, but what was prescribed for him. . . . for not only were the times appointed at which he should transact public business or sit in judgment; but the very hours for his walking and bathing and sleeping with his wife, and, in short, performing every act of life were all settled. custom enjoined a simple diet; the only flesh he might eat was veal and goose, and he might only drink a prescribed quantity of wine." however, there is reason to think that these rules were observed, not by the ancient pharaohs, but by the priestly kings who reigned at thebes and ethiopia at the close of the twentieth dynasty. of the taboos imposed on priests we may see a striking example in the rules of life prescribed for the flamen dialis at rome, who has been interpreted as a living image of jupiter, or a human embodiment of the sky-spirit. they were such as the following: the flamen dialis might not ride or even touch a horse, nor see an army under arms, nor wear a ring which was not broken, nor have a knot on any part of his garments; no fire except a sacred fire might be taken out of his house; he might not touch wheaten flour or leavened bread; he might not touch or even name a goat, a dog, raw meat, beans, and ivy; he might not walk under a vine; the feet of his bed had to be daubed with mud; his hair could be cut only by a free man and with a bronze knife and his hair and nails when cut had to be buried under a lucky tree; he might not touch a dead body nor enter a place where one was burned; he might not see work being done on holy days; he might not be uncovered in the open air; if a man in bonds were taken into his house, the captive had to be unbound and the cords had to be drawn up through a hole in the roof and so let down into the street. his wife, the flaminica, had to observe nearly the same rules, and others of her own besides. she might not ascend more than three steps of the kind of staircase called greek; at a certain festival she might not comb her hair; the leather of her shoes might not be made from a beast that had died a natural death, but only from one that had been slain or sacrificed; if she heard thunder she was tabooed till she had offered an expiatory sacrifice. among the grebo people of sierra leone there is a pontiff who bears the title of bodia and has been compared, on somewhat slender grounds, to the high priest of the jews. he is appointed in accordance with the behest of an oracle. at an elaborate ceremony of installation he is anointed, a ring is put on his ankle as a badge of office, and the door-posts of his house are sprinkled with the blood of a sacrificed goat. he has charge of the public talismans and idols, which he feeds with rice and oil every new moon; and he sacrifices on behalf of the town to the dead and to demons. nominally his power is very great, but in practice it is very limited; for he dare not defy public opinion, and he is held responsible, even with his life, for any adversity that befalls the country. it is expected of him that he should cause the earth to bring forth abundantly, the people to be healthy, war to be driven far away, and witchcraft to be kept in abeyance. his life is trammelled by the observance of certain restrictions or taboos. thus he may not sleep in any house but his own official residence, which is called the "anointed house" with reference to the ceremony of anointing him at inauguration. he may not drink water on the highway. he may not eat while a corpse is in the town, and he may not mourn for the dead. if he dies while in office, he must be buried at dead of night; few may hear of his burial, and none may mourn for him when his death is made public. should he have fallen a victim to the poison ordeal by drinking a decoction of sassywood, as it is called, he must be buried under a running stream of water. among the todas of southern india the holy milkman, who acts as priest of the sacred dairy, is subject to a variety of irksome and burdensome restrictions during the whole time of his incumbency, which may last many years. thus he must live at the sacred dairy and may never visit his home or any ordinary village. he must be celibate; if he is married he must leave his wife. on no account may any ordinary person touch the holy milkman or the holy dairy; such a touch would so defile his holiness that he would forfeit his office. it is only on two days a week, namely mondays and thursdays, that a mere layman may even approach the milkman; on other days if he has any business with him, he must stand at a distance (some say a quarter of a mile) and shout his message across the intervening space. further, the holy milkman never cuts his hair or pares his nails so long as he holds office; he never crosses a river by a bridge, but wades through a ford and only certain fords; if a death occurs in his clan, he may not attend any of the funeral ceremonies, unless he first resigns his office and descends from the exalted rank of milkman to that of a mere common mortal. indeed it appears that in old days he had to resign the seals, or rather the pails, of office whenever any member of his clan departed this life. however, these heavy restraints are laid in their entirety only on milkmen of the very highest class. . divorce of the spiritual from the temporal power the burdensome observances attached to the royal or priestly office produced their natural effect. either men refused to accept the office, which hence tended to fall into abeyance; or accepting it, they sank under its weight into spiritless creatures, cloistered recluses, from whose nerveless fingers the reins of government slipped into the firmer grasp of men who were often content to wield the reality of sovereignty without its name. in some countries this rift in the supreme power deepened into a total and permanent separation of the spiritual and temporal powers, the old royal house retaining their purely religious functions, while the civil government passed into the hands of a younger and more vigorous race. to take examples. in a previous part of this work we saw that in cambodia it is often necessary to force the kingships of fire and water upon the reluctant successors, and that in savage island the monarchy actually came to an end because at last no one could be induced to accept the dangerous distinction. in some parts of west africa, when the king dies, a family council is secretly held to determine his successor. he on whom the choice falls is suddenly seized, bound, and thrown into the fetish-house, where he is kept in durance till he consents to accept the crown. sometimes the heir finds means of evading the honour which it is sought to thrust upon him; a ferocious chief has been known to go about constantly armed, resolute to resist by force any attempt to set him on the throne. the savage timmes of sierra leone, who elect their king, reserve to themselves the right of beating him on the eve of his coronation; and they avail themselves of this constitutional privilege with such hearty goodwill that sometimes the unhappy monarch does not long survive his elevation to the throne. hence when the leading chiefs have a spite at a man and wish to rid themselves of him, they elect him king. formerly, before a man was proclaimed king of sierra leone, it used to be the custom to load him with chains and thrash him. then the fetters were knocked off, the kingly robe was placed on him, and he received in his hands the symbol of royal dignity, which was nothing but the axe of the executioner. it is not therefore surprising to read that in sierra leone, where such customs have prevailed, "except among the mandingoes and suzees, few kings are natives of the countries they govern. so different are their ideas from ours, that very few are solicitous of the honour, and competition is very seldom heard of." the mikados of japan seem early to have resorted to the expedient of transferring the honours and burdens of supreme power to their infant children; and the rise of the tycoons, long the temporal sovereigns of the country, is traced to the abdication of a certain mikado in favour of his three-year-old son. the sovereignty having been wrested by a usurper from the infant prince, the cause of the mikado was championed by yoritomo, a man of spirit and conduct, who overthrew the usurper and restored to the mikado the shadow, while he retained for himself the substance, of power. he bequeathed to his descendants the dignity he had won, and thus became the founder of the line of tycoons. down to the latter half of the sixteenth century the tycoons were active and efficient rulers; but the same fate overtook them which had befallen the mikados. immeshed in the same inextricable web of custom and law, they degenerated into mere puppets, hardly stirring from their palaces and occupied in a perpetual round of empty ceremonies, while the real business of government was managed by the council of state. in tonquin the monarchy ran a similar course. living like his predecessors in effeminacy and sloth, the king was driven from the throne by an ambitious adventurer named mack, who from a fisherman had risen to be grand mandarin. but the king's brother tring put down the usurper and restored the king, retaining, however, for himself and his descendants the dignity of general of all the forces. thenceforward the kings, though invested with the title and pomp of sovereignty, ceased to govern. while they lived secluded in their palaces, all real political power was wielded by the hereditary generals. in mangaia, a polynesian island, religious and civil authority were lodged in separate hands, spiritual functions being discharged by a line of hereditary kings, while the temporal government was entrusted from time to time to a victorious war-chief, whose investiture, however, had to be completed by the king. similarly in tonga, besides the civil king whose right to the throne was partly hereditary and partly derived from his warlike reputation and the number of his fighting men, there was a great divine chief who ranked above the king and the other chiefs in virtue of his supposed descent from one of the chief gods. once a year the first-fruits of the ground were offered to him at a solemn ceremony, and it was believed that if these offerings were not made the vengeance of the gods would fall in a signal manner on the people. peculiar forms of speech, such as were applied to no one else, were used in speaking of him, and everything that he chanced to touch became sacred or tabooed. when he and the king met, the monarch had to sit down on the ground in token of respect until his holiness had passed by. yet though he enjoyed the highest veneration by reason of his divine origin, this sacred personage possessed no political authority, and if he ventured to meddle with affairs of state it was at the risk of receiving a rebuff from the king, to whom the real power belonged, and who finally succeeded in ridding himself of his spiritual rival. in some parts of western africa two kings reign side by side, a fetish or religious king and a civil king, but the fetish king is really supreme. he controls the weather and so forth, and can put a stop to everything. when he lays his red staff on the ground, no one may pass that way. this division of power between a sacred and a secular ruler is to be met with wherever the true negro culture has been left unmolested, but where the negro form of society has been disturbed, as in dahomey and ashantee, there is a tendency to consolidate the two powers in a single king. in some parts of the east indian island of timor we meet with a partition of power like that which is represented by the civil king and the fetish king of western africa. some of the timorese tribes recognise two rajahs, the ordinary or civil rajah, who governs the people, and the fetish or taboo rajah, who is charged with the control of everything that concerns the earth and its products. this latter ruler has the right of declaring anything taboo; his permission must be obtained before new land may be brought under cultivation, and he must perform certain necessary ceremonies when the work is being carried out. if drought or blight threatens the crops, his help is invoked to save them. though he ranks below the civil rajah, he exercises a momentous influence on the course of events, for his secular colleague is bound to consult him in all important matters. in some of the neighbouring islands, such as rotti and eastern flores, a spiritual ruler of the same sort is recognised under various native names, which all mean "lord of the ground." similarly in the mekeo district of british new guinea there is a double chieftainship. the people are divided into two groups according to families, and each of the groups has its chief. one of the two is the war chief, the other is the taboo chief. the office of the latter is hereditary; his duty is to impose a taboo on any of the crops, such as the coco-nuts and areca nuts, whenever he thinks it desirable to prohibit their use. in his office we may perhaps detect the beginning of a priestly dynasty, but as yet his functions appear to be more magical than religious, being concerned with the control of the harvests rather than with the propitiation of higher powers. xviii. the perils of the soul . the soul as a mannikin the foregoing examples have taught us that the office of a sacred king or priest is often hedged in by a series of burdensome restrictions or taboos, of which a principal purpose appears to be to preserve the life of the divine man for the good of his people. but if the object of the taboos is to save his life, the question arises, how is their observance supposed to effect this end? to understand this we must know the nature of the danger which threatens the king's life, and which it is the intention of these curious restrictions to guard against. we must, therefore, ask: what does early man understand by death? to what causes does he attribute it? and how does he think it may be guarded against? as the savage commonly explains the processes of inanimate nature by supposing that they are produced by living beings working in or behind the phenomena, so he explains the phenomena of life itself. if an animal lives and moves, it can only be, he thinks, because there is a little animal inside which moves it: if a man lives and moves, it can only be because he has a little man or animal inside who moves him. the animal inside the animal, the man inside the man, is the soul. and as the activity of an animal or man is explained by the presence of the soul, so the repose of sleep or death is explained by its absence; sleep or trance being the temporary, death being the permanent absence of the soul. hence if death be the permanent absence of the soul, the way to guard against it is either to prevent the soul from leaving the body, or, if it does depart, to ensure that it shall return. the precautions adopted by savages to secure one or other of these ends take the form of certain prohibitions or taboos, which are nothing but rules intended to ensure either the continued presence or the return of the soul. in short, they are life-preservers or life-guards. these general statements will now be illustrated by examples. addressing some australian blacks, a european missionary said, "i am not one, as you think, but two." upon this they laughed. "you may laugh as much as you like," continued the missionary, "i tell you that i am two in one; this great body that you see is one; within that there is another little one which is not visible. the great body dies, and is buried, but the little body flies away when the great one dies." to this some of the blacks replied, "yes, yes. we also are two, we also have a little body within the breast." on being asked where the little body went after death, some said it went behind the bush, others said it went into the sea, and some said they did not know. the hurons thought that the soul had a head and body, arms and legs; in short, that it was a complete little model of the man himself. the esquimaux believe that "the soul exhibits the same shape as the body it belongs to, but is of a more subtle and ethereal nature." according to the nootkas the soul has the shape of a tiny man; its seat is the crown of the head. so long as it stands erect, its owner is hale and hearty; but when from any cause it loses its upright position, he loses his senses. among the indian tribes of the lower fraser river, man is held to have four souls, of which the principal one has the form of a mannikin, while the other three are shadows of it. the malays conceive the human soul as a little man, mostly invisible and of the bigness of a thumb, who corresponds exactly in shape, proportion, and even in complexion to the man in whose body he resides. this mannikin is of a thin, unsubstantial nature, though not so impalpable but that it may cause displacement on entering a physical object, and it can flit quickly from place to place; it is temporarily absent from the body in sleep, trance, and disease, and permanently absent after death. so exact is the resemblance of the mannikin to the man, in other words, of the soul to the body, that, as there are fat bodies and thin bodies, so there are fat souls and thin souls; as there are heavy bodies and light bodies, long bodies and short bodies, so there are heavy souls and light souls, long souls and short souls. the people of nias think that every man, before he is born, is asked how long or how heavy a soul he would like, and a soul of the desired weight or length is measured out to him. the heaviest soul ever given out weighs about ten grammes. the length of a man's life is proportioned to the length of his soul; children who die young had short souls. the fijian conception of the soul as a tiny human being comes clearly out in the customs observed at the death of a chief among the nakelo tribe. when a chief dies, certain men, who are the hereditary undertakers, call him, as he lies, oiled and ornamented, on fine mats, saying, "rise, sir, the chief, and let us be going. the day has come over the land." then they conduct him to the river side, where the ghostly ferryman comes to ferry nakelo ghosts across the stream. as they thus attend the chief on his last journey, they hold their great fans close to the ground to shelter him, because, as one of them explained to a missionary, "his soul is only a little child." people in the punjaub who tattoo themselves believe that at death the soul, "the little entire man or woman" inside the mortal frame, will go to heaven blazoned with the same tattoo patterns which adorned the body in life. sometimes, however, as we shall see, the human soul is conceived not in human but in animal form. . absence and recall of the soul the soul is commonly supposed to escape by the natural openings of the body, especially the mouth and nostrils. hence in celebes they sometimes fasten fish-hooks to a sick man's nose, navel, and feet, so that if his soul should try to escape it may be hooked and held fast. a turik on the baram river, in borneo, refused to part with some hook-like stones, because they, as it were, hooked his soul to his body, and so prevented the spiritual portion of him from becoming detached from the material. when a sea dyak sorcerer or medicine-man is initiated, his fingers are supposed to be furnished with fish-hooks, with which he will thereafter clutch the human soul in the act of flying away, and restore it to the body of the sufferer. but hooks, it is plain, may be used to catch the souls of enemies as well as of friends. acting on this principle head-hunters in borneo hang wooden hooks beside the skulls of their slain enemies in the belief that this helps them on their forays to hook in fresh heads. one of the implements of a haida medicine-man is a hollow bone, in which he bottles up departing souls, and so restores them to their owners. when any one yawns in their presence the hindoos always snap their thumbs, believing that this will hinder the soul from issuing through the open mouth. the marquesans used to hold the mouth and nose of a dying man, in order to keep him in life by preventing his soul from escaping; the same custom is reported of the new caledonians; and with the like intention the bagobos of the philippine islands put rings of brass wire on the wrists or ankles of their sick. on the other hand, the itonamas of south america seal up the eyes, nose, and mouth of a dying person, in case his ghost should get out and carry off others; and for a similar reason the people of nias, who fear the spirits of the recently deceased and identify them with the breath, seek to confine the vagrant soul in its earthly tabernacle by bunging up the nose or tying up the jaws of the corpse. before leaving a corpse the wakelbura of australia used to place hot coals in its ears in order to keep the ghost in the body, until they had got such a good start that he could not overtake them. in southern celebes, to hinder the escape of a woman's soul in childbed, the nurse ties a band as tightly as possible round the body of the expectant mother. the minangkabauers of sumatra observe a similar custom; a skein of thread or a string is sometimes fastened round the wrist or loins of a woman in childbed, so that when her soul seeks to depart in her hour of travail it may find the egress barred. and lest the soul of a babe should escape and be lost as soon as it is born, the alfoors of celebes, when a birth is about to take place, are careful to close every opening in the house, even the keyhole; and they stop up every chink and cranny in the walls. also they tie up the mouths of all animals inside and outside the house, for fear one of them might swallow the child's soul. for a similar reason all persons present in the house, even the mother herself, are obliged to keep their mouths shut the whole time the birth is taking place. when the question was put, why they did not hold their noses also, lest the child's soul should get into one of them? the answer was that breath being exhaled as well as inhaled through the nostrils, the soul would be expelled before it could have time to settle down. popular expressions in the language of civilised peoples, such as to have one's heart in one's mouth, or the soul on the lips or in the nose, show how natural is the idea that the life or soul may escape by the mouth or nostrils. often the soul is conceived as a bird ready to take flight. this conception has probably left traces in most languages, and it lingers as a metaphor in poetry. the malays carry out the conception of the bird-soul in a number of odd ways. if the soul is a bird on the wing, it may be attracted by rice, and so either prevented from flying away or lured back again from its perilous flight. thus in java when a child is placed on the ground for the first time (a moment which uncultured people seem to regard as especially dangerous), it is put in a hen-coop and the mother makes a clucking sound, as if she were calling hens. and in sintang, a district of borneo, when a person, whether man, woman, or child, has fallen out of a house or off a tree, and has been brought home, his wife or other kinswoman goes as speedily as possible to the spot where the accident happened, and there strews rice, which has been coloured yellow, while she utters the words, "cluck! cluck! soul! so-and-so is in his house again. cluck! cluck! soul!" then she gathers up the rice in a basket, carries it to the sufferer, and drops the grains from her hand on his head, saying again, "cluck! cluck! soul!" here the intention clearly is to decoy back the loitering bird-soul and replace it in the head of its owner. the soul of a sleeper is supposed to wander away from his body and actually to visit the places, to see the persons, and to perform the acts of which he dreams. for example, when an indian of brazil or guiana wakes up from a sound sleep, he is firmly convinced that his soul has really been away hunting, fishing, felling trees, or whatever else he has dreamed of doing, while all the time his body has been lying motionless in his hammock. a whole bororo village has been thrown into a panic and nearly deserted because somebody had dreamed that he saw enemies stealthily approaching it. a macusi indian in weak health, who dreamed that his employer had made him haul the canoe up a series of difficult cataracts, bitterly reproached his master next morning for his want of consideration in thus making a poor invalid go out and toil during the night. the indians of the gran chaco are often heard to relate the most incredible stories as things which they have themselves seen and heard; hence strangers who do not know them intimately say in their haste that these indians are liars. in point of fact the indians are firmly convinced of the truth of what they relate; for these wonderful adventures are simply their dreams, which they do not distinguish from waking realities. now the absence of the soul in sleep has its dangers, for if from any cause the soul should be permanently detained away from the body, the person thus deprived of the vital principle must die. there is a german belief that the soul escapes from a sleeper's mouth in the form of a white mouse or a little bird, and that to prevent the return of the bird or animal would be fatal to the sleeper. hence in transylvania they say that you should not let a child sleep with its mouth open, or its soul will slip out in the shape of a mouse, and the child will never wake. many causes may detain the sleeper's soul. thus, his soul may meet the soul of another sleeper and the two souls may fight; if a guinea negro wakens with sore bones in the morning, he thinks that his soul has been thrashed by another soul in sleep. or it may meet the soul of a person just deceased and be carried off by it; hence in the aru islands the inmates of a house will not sleep the night after a death has taken place in it, because the soul of the deceased is supposed to be still in the house and they fear to meet it in a dream. again, the soul of the sleeper may be prevented by an accident or by physical force from returning to his body. when a dyak dreams of falling into the water, he supposes that this accident has really befallen his spirit, and he sends for a wizard, who fishes for the spirit with a hand-net in a basin of water till he catches it and restores it to its owner. the santals tell how a man fell asleep, and growing very thirsty, his soul, in the form of a lizard, left his body and entered a pitcher of water to drink. just then the owner of the pitcher happened to cover it; so the soul could not return to the body and the man died. while his friends were preparing to burn the body some one uncovered the pitcher to get water. the lizard thus escaped and returned to the body, which immediately revived; so the man rose up and asked his friends why they were weeping. they told him they thought he was dead and were about to burn his body. he said he had been down a well to get water, but had found it hard to get out and had just returned. so they saw it all. it is a common rule with primitive people not to waken a sleeper, because his soul is away and might not have time to get back; so if the man wakened without his soul, he would fall sick. if it is absolutely necessary to rouse a sleeper, it must be done very gradually, to allow the soul time to return. a fijian in matuku, suddenly wakened from a nap by somebody treading on his foot, has been heard bawling after his soul and imploring it to return. he had just been dreaming that he was far away in tonga, and great was his alarm on suddenly wakening to find his body in matuku. death stared him in the face unless his soul could be induced to speed at once across the sea and reanimate its deserted tenement. the man would probably have died of fright if a missionary had not been at hand to allay his terror. still more dangerous is it in the opinion of primitive man to move a sleeper or alter his appearance, for if this were done the soul on its return might not be able to find or recognise its body, and so the person would die. the minangkabauers deem it highly improper to blacken or dirty the face of a sleeper, lest the absent soul should shrink from re-entering a body thus disfigured. patani malays fancy that if a person's face be painted while he sleeps, the soul which has gone out of him will not recognise him, and he will sleep on till his face is washed. in bombay it is thought equivalent to murder to change the aspect of a sleeper, as by painting his face in fantastic colours or giving moustaches to a sleeping woman. for when the soul returns it will not know its own body, and the person will die. but in order that a man's soul should quit his body, it is not necessary that he should be asleep. it may quit him in his waking hours, and then sickness, insanity, or death will be the result. thus a man of the wurunjeri tribe in australia lay at his last gasp because his spirit had departed from him. a medicine-man went in pursuit and caught the spirit by the middle just as it was about to plunge into the sunset glow, which is the light cast by the souls of the dead as they pass in and out of the under-world, where the sun goes to rest. having captured the vagrant spirit, the doctor brought it back under his opossum rug, laid himself down on the dying man, and put the soul back into him, so that after a time he revived. the karens of burma are perpetually anxious about their souls, lest these should go roving from their bodies, leaving the owners to die. when a man has reason to fear that his soul is about to take this fatal step, a ceremony is performed to retain or recall it, in which the whole family must take part. a meal is prepared consisting of a cock and hen, a special kind of rice, and a bunch of bananas. then the head of the family takes the bowl which is used to skim rice, and knocking with it thrice on the top of the houseladder says: "_prrrroo!_ come back, soul, do not tarry outside! if it rains, you will be wet. if the sun shines, you will be hot. the gnats will sting you, the leeches will bite you, the tigers will devour you, the thunder will crush you. _prrrroo!_ come back, soul! here it will be well with you. you shall want for nothing. come and eat under shelter from the wind and the storm." after that the family partakes of the meal, and the ceremony ends with everybody tying their right wrist with a string which has been charmed by a sorcerer. similarly the lolos of south-western china believe that the soul leaves the body in chronic illness. in that case they read a sort of elaborate litany, calling on the soul by name and beseeching it to return from the hills, the vales, the rivers, the forests, the fields, or from wherever it may be straying. at the same time cups of water, wine, and rice are set at the door for the refreshment of the weary wandering spirit. when the ceremony is over, they tie a red cord round the arm of the sick man to tether the soul, and this cord is worn by him until it decays and drops off. some of the congo tribes believe that when a man is ill, his soul has left his body and is wandering at large. the aid of the sorcerer is then called in to capture the vagrant spirit and restore it to the invalid. generally the physician declares that he has successfully chased the soul into the branch of a tree. the whole town thereupon turns out and accompanies the doctor to the tree, where the strongest men are deputed to break off the branch in which the soul of the sick man is supposed to be lodged. this they do and carry the branch back to the town, insinuating by their gestures that the burden is heavy and hard to bear. when the branch has been brought to the sick man's hut, he is placed in an upright position by its side, and the sorcerer performs the enchantments by which the soul is believed to be restored to its owner. pining, sickness, great fright, and death are ascribed by the bataks of sumatra to the absence of the soul from the body. at first they try to beckon the wanderer back, and to lure him, like a fowl, by strewing rice. then the following form of words is commonly repeated: "come back, o soul, whether thou art lingering in the wood, or on the hills, or in the dale. see, i call thee with a _toemba bras,_ with an egg of the fowl rajah _moelija,_ with the eleven healing leaves. detain it not, let it come straight here, detain it not, neither in the wood, nor on the hill, nor in the dale. that may not be. o come straight home!" once when a popular traveller was leaving a kayan village, the mothers, fearing that their children's souls might follow him on his journey, brought him the boards on which they carry their infants and begged him to pray that the souls of the little ones would return to the familiar boards and not go away with him into the far country. to each board was fastened a looped string for the purpose of tethering the vagrant spirits, and through the loop each baby was made to pass a chubby finger to make sure that its tiny soul would not wander away. in an indian story a king conveys his soul into the dead body of a brahman, and a hunchback conveys his soul into the deserted body of the king. the hunchback is now king and the king is a brahman. however, the hunchback is induced to show his skill by transferring his soul to the dead body of a parrot, and the king seizes the opportunity to regain possession of his own body. a tale of the same type, with variations of detail, reappears among the malays. a king has incautiously transferred his soul to an ape, upon which the vizier adroitly inserts his own soul into the king's body and so takes possession of the queen and the kingdom, while the true king languishes at court in the outward semblance of an ape. but one day the false king, who played for high stakes, was watching a combat of rams, and it happened that the animal on which he had laid his money fell down dead. all efforts to restore animation proved unavailing till the false king, with the instinct of a true sportsman, transferred his own soul to the body of the deceased ram, and thus renewed the fray. the real king in the body of the ape saw his chance, and with great presence of mind darted back into his own body, which the vizier had rashly vacated. so he came to his own again, and the usurper in the ram's body met with the fate he richly deserved. similarly the greeks told how the soul of hermotimus of clazomenae used to quit his body and roam far and wide, bringing back intelligence of what he had seen on his rambles to his friends at home; until one day, when his spirit was abroad, his enemies contrived to seize his deserted body and committed it to the flames. the departure of the soul is not always voluntary. it may be extracted from the body against its will by ghosts, demons, or sorcerers. hence, when a funeral is passing the house, the karens tie their children with a special kind of string to a particular part of the house, lest the souls of the children should leave their bodies and go into the corpse which is passing. the children are kept tied in this way until the corpse is out of sight. and after the corpse has been laid in the grave, but before the earth has been shovelled in, the mourners and friends range themselves round the grave, each with a bamboo split lengthwise in one hand and a little stick in the other; each man thrusts his bamboo into the grave, and drawing the stick along the groove of the bamboo points out to his soul that in this way it may easily climb up out of the tomb. while the earth is being shovelled in, the bamboos are kept out of the way, lest the souls should be in them, and so should be inadvertently buried with the earth as it is being thrown into the grave; and when the people leave the spot they carry away the bamboos, begging their souls to come with them. further, on returning from the grave each karen provides himself with three little hooks made of branches of trees, and calling his spirit to follow him, at short intervals, as he returns, he makes a motion as if hooking it, and then thrusts the hook into the ground. this is done to prevent the soul of the living from staying behind with the soul of the dead. when the karo-bataks have buried somebody and are filling in the grave, a sorceress runs about beating the air with a stick. this she does in order to drive away the souls of the survivors, for if one of these souls happened to slip into the grave and to be covered up with earth, its owner would die. in uea, one of the loyalty islands, the souls of the dead seem to have been credited with the power of stealing the souls of the living. for when a man was sick the soul-doctor would go with a large troop of men and women to the graveyard. here the men played on flutes and the women whistled softly to lure the soul home. after this had gone on for some time they formed in procession and moved homewards, the flutes playing and the women whistling all the way, while they led back the wandering soul and drove it gently along with open palms. on entering the patient's dwelling they commanded the soul in a loud voice to enter his body. often the abduction of a man's soul is set down to demons. thus fits and convulsions are generally ascribed by the chinese to the agency of certain mischievous spirits who love to draw men's souls out of their bodies. at amoy the spirits who serve babies and children in this way rejoice in the high-sounding titles of "celestial agencies bestriding galloping horses" and "literary graduates residing halfway up in the sky." when an infant is writhing in convulsions, the frightened mother hastens to the roof of the house, and, waving about a bamboo pole to which one of the child's garments is attached, cries out several times "my child so-and-so, come back, return home!" meantime, another inmate of the house bangs away at a gong in the hope of attracting the attention of the strayed soul, which is supposed to recognise the familiar garment and to slip into it. the garment containing the soul is then placed on or beside the child, and if the child does not die recovery is sure to follow, sooner or later. similarly some indians catch a man's lost soul in his boots and restore it to his body by putting his feet into them. in the moluccas when a man is unwell it is thought that some devil has carried away his soul to the tree, mountain, or hill where he (the devil) resides. a sorcerer having pointed out the devil's abode, the friends of the patient carry thither cooked rice, fruit, fish, raw eggs, a hen, a chicken, a silken robe, gold, armlets, and so forth. having set out the food in order they pray, saying: "we come to offer to you, o devil, this offering of food, clothes, gold, and so on; take it and release the soul of the patient for whom we pray. let it return to his body, and he who now is sick shall be made whole." then they eat a little and let the hen loose as a ransom for the soul of the patient; also they put down the raw eggs; but the silken robe, the gold, and the armlets they take home with them. as soon as they are come to the house they place a flat bowl containing the offerings which have been brought back at the sick man's head, and say to him: "now is your soul released, and you shall fare well and live to grey hairs on the earth." demons are especially feared by persons who have just entered a new house. hence at a house-warming among the alfoors of minahassa in celebes the priest performs a ceremony for the purpose of restoring their souls to the inmates. he hangs up a bag at the place of sacrifice and then goes through a list of the gods. there are so many of them that this takes him the whole night through without stopping. in the morning he offers the gods an egg and some rice. by this time the souls of the household are supposed to be gathered in the bag. so the priest takes the bag, and holding it on the head of the master of the house, says, "here you have your soul; go (soul) to-morrow away again." he then does the same, saying the same words, to the housewife and all the other members of the family. amongst the same alfoors one way of recovering a sick man's soul is to let down a bowl by a belt out of a window and fish for the soul till it is caught in the bowl and hauled up. and among the same people, when a priest is bringing back a sick man's soul which he has caught in a cloth, he is preceded by a girl holding the large leaf of a certain palm over his head as an umbrella to keep him and the soul from getting wet, in case it should rain; and he is followed by a man brandishing a sword to deter other souls from any attempt at rescuing the captured spirit. sometimes the lost soul is brought back in a visible shape. the salish or flathead indians of oregon believe that a man's soul may be separated for a time from his body without causing death and without the man being aware of his loss. it is necessary, however, that the lost soul should be soon found and restored to its owner or he will die. the name of the man who has lost his soul is revealed in a dream to the medicine-man, who hastens to inform the sufferer of his loss. generally a number of men have sustained a like loss at the same time; all their names are revealed to the medicine-man, and all employ him to recover their souls. the whole night long these soulless men go about the village from lodge to lodge, dancing and singing. towards daybreak they go into a separate lodge, which is closed up so as to be totally dark. a small hole is then made in the roof, through which the medicine-man, with a bunch of feathers, brushes in the souls, in the shape of bits of bone and the like, which he receives on a piece of matting. a fire is next kindled, by the light of which the medicine-man sorts out the souls. first he puts aside the souls of dead people, of which there are usually several; for if he were to give the soul of a dead person to a living man, the man would die instantly. next he picks out the souls of all the persons present, and making them all to sit down before him, he takes the soul of each, in the shape of a splinter of bone, wood, or shell, and placing it on the owner's head, pats it with many prayers and contortions till it descends into the heart and so resumes its proper place. again, souls may be extracted from their bodies or detained on their wanderings not only by ghosts and demons but also by men, especially by sorcerers. in fiji, if a criminal refused to confess, the chief sent for a scarf with which "to catch away the soul of the rogue." at the sight or even at the mention of the scarf the culprit generally made a clean breast. for if he did not, the scarf would be waved over his head till his soul was caught in it, when it would be carefully folded up and nailed to the end of a chief's canoe; and for want of his soul the criminal would pine and die. the sorcerers of danger island used to set snares for souls. the snares were made of stout cinet, about fifteen to thirty feet long, with loops on either side of different sizes, to suit the different sizes of souls; for fat souls there were large loops, for thin souls there were small ones. when a man was sick against whom the sorcerers had a grudge, they set up these soul-snares near his house and watched for the flight of his soul. if in the shape of a bird or an insect it was caught in the snare, the man would infallibly die. in some parts of west africa, indeed, wizards are continually setting traps to catch souls that wander from their bodies in sleep; and when they have caught one, they tie it up over the fire, and as it shrivels in the heat the owner sickens. this is done, not out of any grudge towards the sufferer, but purely as a matter of business. the wizard does not care whose soul he has captured, and will readily restore it to its owner, if only he is paid for doing so. some sorcerers keep regular asylums for strayed souls, and anybody who has lost or mislaid his own soul can always have another one from the asylum on payment of the usual fee. no blame whatever attaches to men who keep these private asylums or set traps for passing souls; it is their profession, and in the exercise of it they are actuated by no harsh or unkindly feelings. but there are also wretches who from pure spite or for the sake of lucre set and bait traps with the deliberate purpose of catching the soul of a particular man; and in the bottom of the pot, hidden by the bait, are knives and sharp hooks which tear and rend the poor soul, either killing it outright or mauling it so as to impair the health of its owner when it succeeds in escaping and returning to him. miss kingsley knew a kruman who became very anxious about his soul, because for several nights he had smelt in his dreams the savoury smell of smoked crawfish seasoned with red pepper. clearly some ill-wisher had set a trap baited with this dainty for his dream-soul, intending to do him grievous bodily, or rather spiritual, harm; and for the next few nights great pains were taken to keep his soul from straying abroad in his sleep. in the sweltering heat of the tropical night he lay sweating and snorting under a blanket, his nose and mouth tied up with a handkerchief to prevent the escape of his precious soul. in hawaii there were sorcerers who caught souls of living people, shut them up in calabashes, and gave them to people to eat. by squeezing a captured soul in their hands they discovered the place where people had been secretly buried. nowhere perhaps is the art of abducting human souls more carefully cultivated or carried to higher perfection than in the malay peninsula. here the methods by which the wizard works his will are various, and so too are his motives. sometimes he desires to destroy an enemy, sometimes to win the love of a cold or bashful beauty. thus, to take an instance of the latter sort of charm, the following are the directions given for securing the soul of one whom you wish to render distraught. when the moon, just risen, looks red above the eastern horizon, go out, and standing in the moonlight, with the big toe of your right foot on the big toe of your left, make a speaking-trumpet of your right hand and recite through it the following words: "om. i loose my shaft, i loose it and the moon clouds over, i loose it, and the sun is extinguished. i loose it, and the stars burn dim. but it is not the sun, moon, and stars that i shoot at, it is the stalk of the heart of that child of the congregation, so-and-so. cluck! cluck! soul of so-and-so, come and walk with me, come and sit with me, come and sleep and share my pillow. cluck! cluck! soul." repeat this thrice and after every repetition blow through your hollow fist. or you may catch the soul in your turban, thus. go out on the night of the full moon and the two succeeding nights; sit down on an ant-hill facing the moon, burn incense, and recite the following incantation: "i bring you a betel leaf to chew, dab the lime on to it, prince ferocious, for somebody, prince distraction's daughter, to chew. somebody at sunrise be distraught for love of me somebody at sunset be distraught for love of me. as you remember your parents, remember me; as you remember your house and houseladder, remember me; when thunder rumbles, remember me; when wind whistles, remember me; when the heavens rain, remember me; when cocks crow, remember me; when the dial-bird tells its tales, remember me; when you look up at the sun, remember me; when you look up at the moon, remember me, for in that self-same moon i am there. cluck! cluck! soul of somebody come hither to me. i do not mean to let you have my soul, let your soul come hither to mine." now wave the end of your turban towards the moon seven times each night. go home and put it under your pillow, and if you want to wear it in the daytime, burn incense and say, "it is not a turban that i carry in my girdle, but the soul of somebody." the indians of the nass river, in british columbia, are impressed with a belief that a physician may swallow his patient's soul by mistake. a doctor who is believed to have done so is made by the other members of the faculty to stand over the patient, while one of them thrusts his fingers down the doctor's throat, another kneads him in the stomach with his knuckles, and a third slaps him on the back. if the soul is not in him after all, and if the same process has been repeated upon all the medical men without success, it is concluded that the soul must be in the head-doctor's box. a party of doctors, therefore, waits upon him at his house and requests him to produce his box. when he has done so and arranged its contents on a new mat, they take the votary of aesculapius and hold him up by the heels with his head in a hole in the floor. in this position they wash his head, and "any water remaining from the ablution is taken and poured upon the sick man's head." no doubt the lost soul is in the water. . the soul as a shadow and a reflection but the spiritual dangers i have enumerated are not the only ones which beset the savage. often he regards his shadow or reflection as his soul, or at all events as a vital part of himself, and as such it is necessarily a source of danger to him. for if it is trampled upon, struck, or stabbed, he will feel the injury as if it were done to his person; and if it is detached from him entirely (as he believes that it may be) he will die. in the island of wetar there are magicians who can make a man ill by stabbing his shadow with a pike or hacking it with a sword. after sankara had destroyed the buddhists in india, it is said that he journeyed to nepaul, where he had some difference of opinion with the grand lama. to prove his supernatural powers, he soared into the air. but as he mounted up the grand lama, perceiving his shadow swaying and wavering on the ground, struck his knife into it and down fell sankara and broke his neck. in the banks islands there are some stones of a remarkably long shape which go by the name of "eating ghosts," because certain powerful and dangerous ghosts are believed to lodge in them. if a man's shadow falls on one of these stones, the ghost will draw his soul out from him, so that he will die. such stones, therefore, are set in a house to guard it; and a messenger sent to a house by the absent owner will call out the name of the sender, lest the watchful ghost in the stone should fancy that he came with evil intent and should do him a mischief. at a funeral in china, when the lid is about to be placed on the coffin, most of the bystanders, with the exception of the nearest kin, retire a few steps or even retreat to another room, for a person's health is believed to be endangered by allowing his shadow to be enclosed in a coffin. and when the coffin is about to be lowered into the grave most of the spectators recoil to a little distance lest their shadows should fall into the grave and harm should thus be done to their persons. the geomancer and his assistants stand on the side of the grave which is turned away from the sun; and the grave-diggers and coffin-bearers attach their shadows firmly to their persons by tying a strip of cloth tightly round their waists. nor is it human beings alone who are thus liable to be injured by means of their shadows. animals are to some extent in the same predicament. a small snail, which frequents the neighbourhood of the limestone hills in perak, is believed to suck the blood of cattle through their shadows; hence the beasts grow lean and sometimes die from loss of blood. the ancients supposed that in arabia, if a hyaena trod on a man's shadow, it deprived him of the power of speech and motion; and that if a dog, standing on a roof in the moonlight, cast a shadow on the ground and a hyaena trod on it, the dog would fall down as if dragged with a rope. clearly in these cases the shadow, if not equivalent to the soul, is at least regarded as a living part of the man or the animal, so that injury done to the shadow is felt by the person or animal as if it were done to his body. conversely, if the shadow is a vital part of a man or an animal, it may under certain circumstances be as hazardous to be touched by it as it would be to come into contact with the person or animal. hence the savage makes it a rule to shun the shadow of certain persons whom for various reasons he regards as sources of dangerous influence. amongst the dangerous classes he commonly ranks mourners and women in general, but especially his mother-in-law. the shuswap indians think that the shadow of a mourner falling upon a person would make him sick. amongst the kurnai of victoria novices at initiation were cautioned not to let a woman's shadow fall across them, as this would make them thin, lazy, and stupid. an australian native is said to have once nearly died of fright because the shadow of his mother-in-law fell on his legs as he lay asleep under a tree. the awe and dread with which the untutored savage contemplates his mother-in-law are amongst the most familiar facts of anthropology. in the yuin tribes of new south wales the rule which forbade a man to hold any communication with his wife's mother was very strict. he might not look at her or even in her direction. it was a ground of divorce if his shadow happened to fall on his mother-in-law: in that case he had to leave his wife, and she returned to her parents. in new britain the native imagination fails to conceive the extent and nature of the calamities which would result from a man's accidentally speaking to his wife's mother; suicide of one or both would probably be the only course open to them. the most solemn form of oath a new briton can take is, "sir, if i am not telling the truth, i hope i may shake hands with my mother-in-law." where the shadow is regarded as so intimately bound up with the life of the man that its loss entails debility or death, it is natural to expect that its diminution should be regarded with solicitude and apprehension, as betokening a corresponding decrease in the vital energy of its owner. in amboyna and uliase, two islands near the equator, where necessarily there is little or no shadow cast at noon, the people make it a rule not to go out of the house at mid-day, because they fancy that by doing so a man may lose the shadow of his soul. the mangaians tell of a mighty warrior, tukaitawa, whose strength waxed and waned with the length of his shadow. in the morning, when his shadow fell longest, his strength was greatest; but as the shadow shortened towards noon his strength ebbed with it, till exactly at noon it reached its lowest point; then, as the shadow stretched out in the afternoon, his strength returned. a certain hero discovered the secret of tukaitawa's strength and slew him at noon. the savage besisis of the malay peninsula fear to bury their dead at noon, because they fancy that the shortness of their shadows at that hour would sympathetically shorten their own lives. nowhere, perhaps, does the equivalence of the shadow to the life or soul come out more clearly than in some customs practised to this day in south-eastern europe. in modern greece, when the foundation of a new building is being laid, it is the custom to kill a cock, a ram, or a lamb, and to let its blood flow on the foundation-stone, under which the animal is afterwards buried. the object of the sacrifice is to give strength and stability to the building. but sometimes, instead of killing an animal, the builder entices a man to the foundation-stone, secretly measures his body, or a part of it, or his shadow, and buries the measure under the foundation-stone; or he lays the foundation-stone upon the man's shadow. it is believed that the man will die within the year. the roumanians of transylvania think that he whose shadow is thus immured will die within forty days; so persons passing by a building which is in course of erection may hear a warning cry, "beware lest they take thy shadow!" not long ago there were still shadow-traders whose business it was to provide architects with the shadows necessary for securing their walls. in these cases the measure of the shadow is looked on as equivalent to the shadow itself, and to bury it is to bury the life or soul of the man, who, deprived of it, must die. thus the custom is a substitute for the old practice of immuring a living person in the walls, or crushing him under the foundation-stone of a new building, in order to give strength and durability to the structure, or more definitely in order that the angry ghost may haunt the place and guard it against the intrusion of enemies. as some peoples believe a man's soul to be in his shadow, so other (or the same) peoples believe it to be in his reflection in water or a mirror. thus "the andamanese do not regard their shadows but their reflections (in any mirror) as their souls." when the motumotu of new guinea first saw their likenesses in a looking-glass, they thought that their reflections were their souls. in new caledonia the old men are of opinion that a person's reflection in water or a mirror is his soul; but the younger men, taught by the catholic priests, maintain that it is a reflection and nothing more, just like the reflection of palm-trees in the water. the reflection-soul, being external to the man, is exposed to much the same dangers as the shadow-soul. the zulus will not look into a dark pool because they think there is a beast in it which will take away their reflections, so that they die. the basutos say that crocodiles have the power of thus killing a man by dragging his reflection under water. when one of them dies suddenly and from no apparent cause, his relatives will allege that a crocodile must have taken his shadow some time when he crossed a stream. in saddle island, melanesia, there is a pool "into which if any one looks he dies; the malignant spirit takes hold upon his life by means of his reflection on the water." we can now understand why it was a maxim both in ancient india and ancient greece not to look at one's reflection in water, and why the greeks regarded it as an omen of death if a man dreamed of seeing himself so reflected. they feared that the water-spirits would drag the person's reflection or soul under water, leaving him soulless to perish. this was probably the origin of the classical story of the beautiful narcissus, who languished and died through seeing his reflection in the water. further, we can now explain the widespread custom of covering up mirrors or turning them to the wall after a death has taken place in the house. it is feared that the soul, projected out of the person in the shape of his reflection in the mirror, may be carried off by the ghost of the departed, which is commonly supposed to linger about the house till the burial. the custom is thus exactly parallel to the aru custom of not sleeping in a house after a death for fear that the soul, projected out of the body in a dream, may meet the ghost and be carried off by it. the reason why sick people should not see themselves in a mirror, and why the mirror in a sick-room is therefore covered up, is also plain; in time of sickness, when the soul might take flight so easily, it is particularly dangerous to project it out of the body by means of the reflection in a mirror. the rule is therefore precisely parallel to the rule observed by some peoples of not allowing sick people to sleep; for in sleep the soul is projected out of the body, and there is always a risk that it may not return. as with shadows and reflections, so with portraits; they are often believed to contain the soul of the person portrayed. people who hold this belief are naturally loth to have their likenesses taken; for if the portrait is the soul, or at least a vital part of the person portrayed, whoever possesses the portrait will be able to exercise a fatal influence over the original of it. thus the esquimaux of bering strait believe that persons dealing in witchcraft have the power of stealing a person's shade, so that without it he will pine away and die. once at a village on the lower yukon river an explorer had set up his camera to get a picture of the people as they were moving about among their houses. while he was focusing the instrument, the headman of the village came up and insisted on peeping under the cloth. being allowed to do so, he gazed intently for a minute at the moving figures on the ground glass, then suddenly withdrew his head and bawled at the top of his voice to the people, "he has all of your shades in this box." a panic ensued among the group, and in an instant they disappeared helterskelter into their houses. the tepehuanes of mexico stood in mortal terror of the camera, and five days' persuasion was necessary to induce them to pose for it. when at last they consented, they looked like criminals about to be executed. they believed that by photographing people the artist could carry off their souls and devour them at his leisure moments. they said that, when the pictures reached his country, they would die or some other evil would befall them. when dr. catat and some companions were exploring the bara country on the west coast of madagascar, the people suddenly became hostile. the day before the travellers, not without difficulty, had photographed the royal family, and now found themselves accused of taking the souls of the natives for the purpose of selling them when they returned to france. denial was vain; in compliance with the custom of the country they were obliged to catch the souls, which were then put into a basket and ordered by dr. catat to return to their respective owners. some villagers in sikhim betrayed a lively horror and hid away whenever the lens of a camera, or "the evil eye of the box" as they called it, was turned on them. they thought it took away their souls with their pictures, and so put it in the power of the owner of the pictures to cast spells on them, and they alleged that a photograph of the scenery blighted the landscape. until the reign of the late king of siam no siamese coins were ever stamped with the image of the king, "for at that time there was a strong prejudice against the making of portraits in any medium. europeans who travel into the jungle have, even at the present time, only to point a camera at a crowd to procure its instant dispersion. when a copy of the face of a person is made and taken away from him, a portion of his life goes with the picture. unless the sovereign had been blessed with the years of a methusaleh he could scarcely have permitted his life to be distributed in small pieces together with the coins of the realm." beliefs of the same sort still linger in various parts of europe. not very many years ago some old women in the greek island of carpathus were very angry at having their likenesses drawn, thinking that in consequence they would pine and die. there are persons in the west of scotland "who refuse to have their likenesses taken lest it prove unlucky; and give as instances the cases of several of their friends who never had a day's health after being photographed." xix. tabooed acts . taboos on intercourse with strangers so much for the primitive conceptions of the soul and the dangers to which it is exposed. these conceptions are not limited to one people or country; with variations of detail they are found all over the world, and survive, as we have seen, in modern europe. beliefs so deep-seated and so widespread must necessarily have contributed to shape the mould in which the early kingship was cast. for if every person was at such pains to save his own soul from the perils which threatened it on so many sides, how much more carefully must _he_ have been guarded upon whose life hung the welfare and even the existence of the whole people, and whom therefore it was the common interest of all to preserve? therefore we should expect to find the king's life protected by a system of precautions or safeguards still more numerous and minute than those which in primitive society every man adopts for the safety of his own soul. now in point of fact the life of the early kings is regulated, as we have seen and shall see more fully presently, by a very exact code of rules. may we not then conjecture that these rules are in fact the very safeguards which we should expect to find adopted for the protection of the king's life? an examination of the rules themselves confirms this conjecture. for from this it appears that some of the rules observed by the kings are identical with those observed by private persons out of regard for the safety of their souls; and even of those which seem peculiar to the king, many, if not all, are most readily explained on the hypothesis that they are nothing but safeguards or lifeguards of the king. i will now enumerate some of these royal rules or taboos, offering on each of them such comments and explanations as may serve to set the original intention of the rule in its proper light. as the object of the royal taboos is to isolate the king from all sources of danger, their general effect is to compel him to live in a state of seclusion, more or less complete, according to the number and stringency of the rules he observes. now of all sources of danger none are more dreaded by the savage than magic and witchcraft, and he suspects all strangers of practising these black arts. to guard against the baneful influence exerted voluntarily or involuntarily by strangers is therefore an elementary dictate of savage prudence. hence before strangers are allowed to enter a district, or at least before they are permitted to mingle freely with the inhabitants, certain ceremonies are often performed by the natives of the country for the purpose of disarming the strangers of their magical powers, of counteracting the baneful influence which is believed to emanate from them, or of disinfecting, so to speak, the tainted atmosphere by which they are supposed to be surrounded. thus, when the ambassadors sent by justin ii., emperor of the east, to conclude a peace with the turks had reached their destination, they were received by shamans, who subjected them to a ceremonial purification for the purpose of exorcising all harmful influence. having deposited the goods brought by the ambassadors in an open place, these wizards carried burning branches of incense round them, while they rang a bell and beat on a tambourine, snorting and falling into a state of frenzy in their efforts to dispel the powers of evil. afterwards they purified the ambassadors themselves by leading them through the flames. in the island of nanumea (south pacific) strangers from ships or from other islands were not allowed to communicate with the people until they all, or a few as representatives of the rest, had been taken to each of the four temples in the island, and prayers offered that the god would avert any disease or treachery which these strangers might have brought with them. meat offerings were also laid upon the altars, accompanied by songs and dances in honour of the god. while these ceremonies were going on, all the people except the priests and their attendants kept out of sight. amongst the ot danoms of borneo it is the custom that strangers entering the territory should pay to the natives a certain sum, which is spent in the sacrifice of buffaloes or pigs to the spirits of the land and water, in order to reconcile them to the presence of the strangers, and to induce them not to withdraw their favour from the people of the country, but to bless the rice-harvest, and so forth. the men of a certain district in borneo, fearing to look upon a european traveller lest he should make them ill, warned their wives and children not to go near him. those who could not restrain their curiosity killed fowls to appease the evil spirits and smeared themselves with the blood. "more dreaded," says a traveller in central borneo, "than the evil spirits of the neighbourhood are the evil spirits from a distance which accompany travellers. when a company from the middle mahakam river visited me among the blu-u kayans in the year , no woman showed herself outside her house without a burning bundle of _plehiding_ bark, the stinking smoke of which drives away evil spirits." when crevaux was travelling in south america he entered a village of the apalai indians. a few moments after his arrival some of the indians brought him a number of large black ants, of a species whose bite is painful, fastened on palm leaves. then all the people of the village, without distinction of age or sex, presented themselves to him, and he had to sting them all with the ants on their faces, thighs, and other parts of their bodies. sometimes, when he applied the ants too tenderly, they called out "more! more!" and were not satisfied till their skin was thickly studded with tiny swellings like what might have been produced by whipping them with nettles. the object of this ceremony is made plain by the custom observed in amboyna and uliase of sprinkling sick people with pungent spices, such as ginger and cloves, chewed fine, in order by the prickling sensation to drive away the demon of disease which may be clinging to their persons. in java a popular cure for gout or rheumatism is to rub spanish pepper into the nails of the fingers and toes of the sufferer; the pungency of the pepper is supposed to be too much for the gout or rheumatism, who accordingly departs in haste. so on the slave coast the mother of a sick child sometimes believes that an evil spirit has taken possession of the child's body, and in order to drive him out, she makes small cuts in the body of the little sufferer and inserts green peppers or spices in the wounds, believing that she will thereby hurt the evil spirit and force him to be gone. the poor child naturally screams with pain, but the mother hardens her heart in the belief that the demon is suffering equally. it is probable that the same dread of strangers, rather than any desire to do them honour, is the motive of certain ceremonies which are sometimes observed at their reception, but of which the intention is not directly stated. in the ongtong java islands, which are inhabited by polynesians, the priests or sorcerers seem to wield great influence. their main business is to summon or exorcise spirits for the purpose of averting or dispelling sickness, and of procuring favourable winds, a good catch of fish, and so on. when strangers land on the islands, they are first of all received by the sorcerers, sprinkled with water, anointed with oil, and girt with dried pandanus leaves. at the same time sand and water are freely thrown about in all directions, and the newcomer and his boat are wiped with green leaves. after this ceremony the strangers are introduced by the sorcerers to the chief. in afghanistan and in some parts of persia the traveller, before he enters a village, is frequently received with a sacrifice of animal life or food, or of fire and incense. the afghan boundary mission, in passing by villages in afghanistan, was often met with fire and incense. sometimes a tray of lighted embers is thrown under the hoofs of the traveller's horse, with the words, "you are welcome." on entering a village in central africa emin pasha was received with the sacrifice of two goats; their blood was sprinkled on the path and the chief stepped over the blood to greet emin. sometimes the dread of strangers and their magic is too great to allow of their reception on any terms. thus when speke arrived at a certain village, the natives shut their doors against him, "because they had never before seen a white man nor the tin boxes that the men were carrying: 'who knows,' they said, 'but that these very boxes are the plundering watuta transformed and come to kill us? you cannot be admitted.' no persuasion could avail with them, and the party had to proceed to the next village." the fear thus entertained of alien visitors is often mutual. entering a strange land the savage feels that he is treading enchanted ground, and he takes steps to guard against the demons that haunt it and the magical arts of its inhabitants. thus on going to a strange land the maoris performed certain ceremonies to make it "common," lest it might have been previously "sacred." when baron miklucho-maclay was approaching a village on the maclay coast of new guinea, one of the natives who accompanied him broke a branch from a tree and going aside whispered to it for a while; then stepping up to each member of the party, one after another, he spat something upon his back and gave him some blows with the branch. lastly, he went into the forest and buried the branch under withered leaves in the thickest part of the jungle. this ceremony was believed to protect the party against all treachery and danger in the village they were approaching. the idea probably was that the malignant influences were drawn off from the persons into the branch and buried with it in the depths of the forest. in australia, when a strange tribe has been invited into a district and is approaching the encampment of the tribe which owns the land, "the strangers carry lighted bark or burning sticks in their hands, for the purpose, they say, of clearing and purifying the air." when the toradjas are on a head-hunting expedition and have entered the enemy's country, they may not eat any fruits which the foe has planted nor any animal which he has reared until they have first committed an act of hostility, as by burning a house or killing a man. they think that if they broke this rule they would receive something of the soul or spiritual essence of the enemy into themselves, which would destroy the mystic virtue of their talismans. again, it is believed that a man who has been on a journey may have contracted some magic evil from the strangers with whom he has associated. hence, on returning home, before he is readmitted to the society of his tribe and friends, he has to undergo certain purificatory ceremonies. thus the bechuanas "cleanse or purify themselves after journeys by shaving their heads, etc., lest they should have contracted from strangers some evil by witchcraft or sorcery." in some parts of western africa, when a man returns home after a long absence, before he is allowed to visit his wife, he must wash his person with a particular fluid, and receive from the sorcerer a certain mark on his forehead, in order to counteract any magic spell which a stranger woman may have cast on him in his absence, and which might be communicated through him to the women of his village. two hindoo ambassadors, who had been sent to england by a native prince and had returned to india, were considered to have so polluted themselves by contact with strangers that nothing but being born again could restore them to purity. "for the purpose of regeneration it is directed to make an image of pure gold of the female power of nature, in the shape either of a woman or of a cow. in this statue the person to be regenerated is enclosed, and dragged through the usual channel. as a statue of pure gold and of proper dimensions would be too expensive, it is sufficient to make an image of the sacred _yoni,_ through which the person to be regenerated is to pass." such an image of pure gold was made at the prince's command, and his ambassadors were born again by being dragged through it. when precautions like these are taken on behalf of the people in general against the malignant influence supposed to be exercised by strangers, it is no wonder that special measures are adopted to protect the king from the same insidious danger. in the middle ages the envoys who visited a tartar khan were obliged to pass between two fires before they were admitted to his presence, and the gifts they brought were also carried between the fires. the reason assigned for the custom was that the fire purged away any magic influence which the strangers might mean to exercise over the khan. when subject chiefs come with their retinues to visit kalamba (the most powerful chief of the bashilange in the congo basin) for the first time or after being rebellious, they have to bathe, men and women together, in two brooks on two successive days, passing the nights under the open sky in the market-place. after the second bath they proceed, entirely naked, to the house of kalamba, who makes a long white mark on the breast and forehead of each of them. then they return to the market-place and dress, after which they undergo the pepper ordeal. pepper is dropped into the eyes of each of them, and while this is being done the sufferer has to make a confession of all his sins, to answer all questions that may be put to him, and to take certain vows. this ends the ceremony, and the strangers are now free to take up their quarters in the town for as long as they choose to remain. . taboos on eating and drinking in the opinion of savages the acts of eating and drinking are attended with special danger; for at these times the soul may escape from the mouth, or be extracted by the magic arts of an enemy present. among the ewe-speaking peoples of the slave coast "the common belief seems to be that the indwelling spirit leaves the body and returns to it through the mouth; hence, should it have gone out, it behoves a man to be careful about opening his mouth, lest a homeless spirit should take advantage of the opportunity and enter his body. this, it appears, is considered most likely to take place while the man is eating." precautions are therefore adopted to guard against these dangers. thus of the bataks it is said that "since the soul can leave the body, they always take care to prevent their soul from straying on occasions when they have most need of it. but it is only possible to prevent the soul from straying when one is in the house. at feasts one may find the whole house shut up, in order that the soul may stay and enjoy the good things set before it." the zafimanelo in madagascar lock their doors when they eat, and hardly any one ever sees them eating. the warua will not allow any one to see them eating and drinking, being doubly particular that no person of the opposite sex shall see them doing so. "i had to pay a man to let me see him drink; i could not make a man let a woman see him drink." when offered a drink they often ask that a cloth may be held up to hide them whilst drinking. if these are the ordinary precautions taken by common people, the precautions taken by kings are extraordinary. the king of loango may not be seen eating or drinking by man or beast under pain of death. a favourite dog having broken into the room where the king was dining, the king ordered it to be killed on the spot. once the king's own son, a boy of twelve years old, inadvertently saw the king drink. immediately the king ordered him to be finely apparelled and feasted, after which he commanded him to be cut in quarters, and carried about the city with a proclamation that he had seen the king drink. "when the king has a mind to drink, he has a cup of wine brought; he that brings it has a bell in his hand, and as soon as he has delivered the cup to the king, he turns his face from him and rings the bell, on which all present fall down with their faces to the ground, and continue so till the king has drank. . . . his eating is much in the same style, for which he has a house on purpose, where his victuals are set upon a bensa or table: which he goes to, and shuts the door: when he has done, he knocks and comes out. so that none ever see the king eat or drink. for it is believed that if any one should, the king shall immediately die." the remnants of his food are buried, doubtless to prevent them from falling into the hands of sorcerers, who by means of these fragments might cast a fatal spell over the monarch. the rules observed by the neighbouring king of cacongo were similar; it was thought that the king would die if any of his subjects were to see him drink. it is a capital offence to see the king of dahomey at his meals. when he drinks in public, as he does on extraordinary occasions, he hides himself behind a curtain, or handkerchiefs are held up round his head, and all the people throw themselves with their faces to the earth. when the king of bunyoro in central africa went to drink milk in the dairy, every man must leave the royal enclosure and all the women had to cover their heads till the king returned. no one might see him drink. one wife accompanied him to the dairy and handed him the milk-pot, but she turned away her face while he drained it. . taboos on showing the face in some of the preceding cases the intention of eating and drinking in strict seclusion may perhaps be to hinder evil influences from entering the body rather than to prevent the escape of the soul. this certainly is the motive of some drinking customs observed by natives of the congo region. thus we are told of these people that "there is hardly a native who would dare to swallow a liquid without first conjuring the spirits. one of them rings a bell all the time he is drinking; another crouches down and places his left hand on the earth; another veils his head; another puts a stalk of grass or a leaf in his hair, or marks his forehead with a line of clay. this fetish custom assumes very varied forms. to explain them, the black is satisfied to say that they are an energetic mode of conjuring spirits." in this part of the world a chief will commonly ring a bell at each draught of beer which he swallows, and at the same moment a lad stationed in front of him brandishes a spear "to keep at bay the spirits which might try to sneak into the old chief's body by the same road as the beer." the same motive of warding off evil spirits probably explains the custom observed by some african sultans of veiling their faces. the sultan of darfur wraps up his face with a piece of white muslin, which goes round his head several times, covering his mouth and nose first, and then his forehead, so that only his eyes are visible. the same custom of veiling the face as a mark of sovereignty is said to be observed in other parts of central africa. the sultan of wadai always speaks from behind a curtain; no one sees his face except his intimates and a few favoured persons. . taboos on quitting the house by an extension of the like precaution kings are sometimes forbidden ever to leave their palaces; or, if they are allowed to do so, their subjects are forbidden to see them abroad. the fetish king of benin, who was worshipped as a deity by his subjects, might not quit his palace. after his coronation the king of loango is confined to his palace, which he may not leave. the king of onitsha "does not step out of his house into the town unless a human sacrifice is made to propitiate the gods: on this account he never goes out beyond the precincts of his premises." indeed we are told that he may not quit his palace under pain of death or of giving up one or more slaves to be executed in his presence. as the wealth of the country is measured in slaves, the king takes good care not to infringe the law. yet once a year at the feast of yams the king is allowed, and even required by custom, to dance before his people outside the high mud wall of the palace. in dancing he carries a great weight, generally a sack of earth, on his back to prove that he is still able to support the burden and cares of state. were he unable to discharge this duty, he would be immediately deposed and perhaps stoned. the kings of ethiopia were worshipped as gods, but were mostly kept shut up in their palaces. on the mountainous coast of pontus there dwelt in antiquity a rude and warlike people named the mosyni or mosynoeci, through whose rugged country the ten thousand marched on their famous retreat from asia to europe. these barbarians kept their king in close custody at the top of a high tower, from which after his election he was never more allowed to descend. here he dispensed justice to his people; but if he offended them, they punished him by stopping his rations for a whole day, or even starving him to death. the kings of sabaea or sheba, the spice country of arabia, were not allowed to go out of their palaces; if they did so, the mob stoned them to death. but at the top of the palace there was a window with a chain attached to it. if any man deemed he had suffered wrong, he pulled the chain, and the king perceived him and called him in and gave judgment. . taboos on leaving food over again, magic mischief may be wrought upon a man through the remains of the food he has partaken of, or the dishes out of which he has eaten. on the principles of sympathetic magic a real connexion continues to subsist between the food which a man has in his stomach and the refuse of it which he has left untouched, and hence by injuring the refuse you can simultaneously injure the eater. among the narrinyeri of south australia every adult is constantly on the look-out for bones of beasts, birds, or fish, of which the flesh has been eaten by somebody, in order to construct a deadly charm out of them. every one is therefore careful to burn the bones of the animals which he has eaten, lest they should fall into the hands of a sorcerer. too often, however, the sorcerer succeeds in getting hold of such a bone, and when he does so he believes that he has the power of life and death over the man, woman, or child who ate the flesh of the animal. to put the charm in operation he makes a paste of red ochre and fish oil, inserts in it the eye of a cod and a small piece of the flesh of a corpse, and having rolled the compound into a ball sticks it on the top of the bone. after being left for some time in the bosom of a dead body, in order that it may derive a deadly potency by contact with corruption, the magical implement is set up in the ground near the fire, and as the ball melts, so the person against whom the charm is directed wastes with disease; if the ball is melted quite away, the victim will die. when the bewitched man learns of the spell that is being cast upon him, he endeavours to buy the bone from the sorcerer, and if he obtains it he breaks the charm by throwing the bone into a river or lake. in tana, one of the new hebrides, people bury or throw into the sea the leavings of their food, lest these should fall into the hands of the disease-makers. for if a disease-maker finds the remnants of a meal, say the skin of a banana, he picks it up and burns it slowly in the fire. as it burns, the person who ate the banana falls ill and sends to the disease-maker, offering him presents if he will stop burning the banana skin. in new guinea the natives take the utmost care to destroy or conceal the husks and other remains of their food, lest these should be found by their enemies and used by them for the injury or destruction of the eaters. hence they burn their leavings, throw them into the sea, or otherwise put them out of harm's way. from a like fear, no doubt, of sorcery, no one may touch the food which the king of loango leaves upon his plate; it is buried in a hole in the ground. and no one may drink out of the king's vessel. in antiquity the romans used immediately to break the shells of eggs and of snails which they had eaten, in order to prevent enemies from making magic with them. the common practice, still observed among us, of breaking egg-shells after the eggs have been eaten may very well have originated in the same superstition. the superstitious fear of the magic that may be wrought on a man through the leavings of his food has had the beneficial effect of inducing many savages to destroy refuse which, if left to rot, might through its corruption have proved a real, not a merely imaginary, source of disease and death. nor is it only the sanitary condition of a tribe which has benefited by this superstition; curiously enough the same baseless dread, the same false notion of causation, has indirectly strengthened the moral bonds of hospitality, honour, and good faith among men who entertain it. for it is obvious that no one who intends to harm a man by working magic on the refuse of his food will himself partake of that food, because if he did so he would, on the principles of sympathetic magic, suffer equally with his enemy from any injury done to the refuse. this is the idea which in primitive society lends sanctity to the bond produced by eating together; by participation in the same food two men give, as it were, hostages for their good behaviour; each guarantees the other that he will devise no mischief against him, since, being physically united with him by the common food in their stomachs, any harm he might do to his fellow would recoil on his own head with precisely the same force with which it fell on the head of his victim. in strict logic, however, the sympathetic bond lasts only so long as the food is in the stomach of each of the parties. hence the covenant formed by eating together is less solemn and durable than the covenant formed by transfusing the blood of the covenanting parties into each other's veins, for this transfusion seems to knit them together for life. xx. tabooed persons . chiefs and kings tabooed we have seen that the mikado's food was cooked every day in new pots and served up in new dishes; both pots and dishes were of common clay, in order that they might be broken or laid aside after they had been once used. they were generally broken, for it was believed that if any one else ate his food out of these sacred dishes, his mouth and throat would become swollen and inflamed. the same ill effect was thought to be experienced by any one who should wear the mikado's clothes without his leave; he would have swellings and pains all over his body. in fiji there is a special name (_kana lama_) for the disease supposed to be caused by eating out of a chief's dishes or wearing his clothes. "the throat and body swell, and the impious person dies. i had a fine mat given to me by a man who durst not use it because thakombau's eldest son had sat upon it. there was always a family or clan of commoners who were exempt from this danger. i was talking about this once to thakombau. 'oh yes,' said he. 'here, so-and-so! come and scratch my back.' the man scratched; he was one of those who could do it with impunity." the name of the men thus highly privileged was _na nduka ni,_ or the dirt of the chief. in the evil effects thus supposed to follow upon the use of the vessels or clothes of the mikado and a fijian chief we see that other side of the god-man's character to which attention has been already called. the divine person is a source of danger as well as of blessing; he must not only be guarded, he must also be guarded against. his sacred organism, so delicate that a touch may disorder it, is also, as it were, electrically charged with a powerful magical or spiritual force which may discharge itself with fatal effect on whatever comes in contact with it. accordingly the isolation of the man-god is quite as necessary for the safety of others as for his own. his magical virtue is in the strictest sense of the word contagious: his divinity is a fire, which, under proper restraints, confers endless blessings, but, if rashly touched or allowed to break bounds, burns and destroys what it touches. hence the disastrous effects supposed to attend a breach of taboo; the offender has thrust his hand into the divine fire, which shrivels up and consumes him on the spot. the nubas, for example, who inhabit the wooded and fertile range of jebel nuba in eastern africa, believe that they would die if they entered the house of their priestly king; however, they can evade the penalty of their intrusion by baring the left shoulder and getting the king to lay his hand on it. and were any man to sit on a stone which the king has consecrated to his own use, the transgressor would die within the year. the cazembes of angola regard their king as so holy that no one can touch him without being killed by the magical power which pervades his sacred person. but since contact with him is sometimes unavoidable, they have devised a means whereby the sinner can escape with his life. kneeling down before the king he touches the back of the royal hand with the back of his own, then snaps his fingers; afterwards he lays the palm of his hand on the palm of the king's hand, then snaps his fingers again. this ceremony is repeated four or five times, and averts the imminent danger of death. in tonga it was believed that if any one fed himself with his own hands after touching the sacred person of a superior chief or anything that belonged to him, he would swell up and die; the sanctity of the chief, like a virulent poison, infected the hands of his inferior, and, being communicated through them to the food, proved fatal to the eater. a commoner who had incurred this danger could disinfect himself by performing a certain ceremony, which consisted in touching the sole of a chief's foot with the palm and back of each of his hands, and afterwards rinsing his hands in water. if there was no water near, he rubbed his hands with the juicy stem of a plantain or banana. after that he was free to feed himself with his own hands without danger of being attacked by the malady which would otherwise follow from eating with tabooed or sanctified hands. but until the ceremony of expiation or disinfection had been performed, if he wished to eat he had either to get some one to feed him, or else to go down on his knees and pick up the food from the ground with his mouth like a beast. he might not even use a toothpick himself, but might guide the hand of another person holding the toothpick. the tongans were subject to induration of the liver and certain forms of scrofula, which they often attributed to a failure to perform the requisite expiation after having inadvertently touched a chief or his belongings. hence they often went through the ceremony as a precaution, without knowing that they had done anything to call for it. the king of tonga could not refuse to play his part in the rite by presenting his foot to such as desired to touch it, even when they applied to him at an inconvenient time. a fat unwieldy king, who perceived his subjects approaching with this intention, while he chanced to be taking his walks abroad, has been sometimes seen to waddle as fast as his legs could carry him out of their way, in order to escape the importunate and not wholly disinterested expression of their homage. if any one fancied he might have already unwittingly eaten with tabooed hands, he sat down before the chief, and, taking the chief's foot, pressed it against his own stomach, that the food in his belly might not injure him, and that he might not swell up and die. since scrofula was regarded by the tongans as a result of eating with tabooed hands, we may conjecture that persons who suffered from it among them often resorted to the touch or pressure of the king's foot as a cure for their malady. the analogy of the custom with the old english practice of bringing scrofulous patients to the king to be healed by his touch is sufficiently obvious, and suggests, as i have already pointed out elsewhere, that among our own remote ancestors scrofula may have obtained its name of the king's evil, from a belief, like that of the tongans, that it was caused as well as cured by contact with the divine majesty of kings. in new zealand the dread of the sanctity of chiefs was at least as great as in tonga. their ghostly power, derived from an ancestral spirit, diffused itself by contagion over everything they touched, and could strike dead all who rashly or unwittingly meddled with it. for instance, it once happened that a new zealand chief of high rank and great sanctity had left the remains of his dinner by the wayside. a slave, a stout, hungry fellow, coming up after the chief had gone, saw the unfinished dinner, and ate it up without asking questions. hardly had he finished when he was informed by a horror-stricken spectator that the food of which he had eaten was the chief's. "i knew the unfortunate delinquent well. he was remarkable for courage, and had signalised himself in the wars of the tribe," but "no sooner did he hear the fatal news than he was seized by the most extraordinary convulsions and cramp in the stomach, which never ceased till he died, about sundown the same day. he was a strong man, in the prime of life, and if any pakeha [european] freethinker should have said he was not killed by the _tapu_ of the chief, which had been communicated to the food by contact, he would have been listened to with feelings of contempt for his ignorance and inability to understand plain and direct evidence." this is not a solitary case. a maori woman having eaten of some fruit, and being afterwards told that the fruit had been taken from a tabooed place, exclaimed that the spirit of the chief, whose sanctity had been thus profaned, would kill her. this was in the afternoon, and next day by twelve o'clock she was dead. a maori chief's tinder-box was once the means of killing several persons; for, having been lost by him, and found by some men who used it to light their pipes, they died of fright on learning to whom it had belonged. so, too, the garments of a high new zealand chief will kill any one else who wears them. a chief was observed by a missionary to throw down a precipice a blanket which he found too heavy to carry. being asked by the missionary why he did not leave it on a tree for the use of a future traveller, the chief replied that "it was the fear of its being taken by another which caused him to throw it where he did, for if it were worn, his tapu" (that is, his spiritual power communicated by contact to the blanket and through the blanket to the man) "would kill the person." for a similar reason a maori chief would not blow a fire with his mouth; for his sacred breath would communicate its sanctity to the fire, which would pass it on to the pot on the fire, which would pass it on to the meat in the pot, which would pass it on to the man who ate the meat, which was in the pot, which stood on the fire, which was breathed on by the chief; so that the eater, infected by the chief's breath conveyed through these intermediaries, would surely die. thus in the polynesian race, to which the maoris belong, superstition erected round the persons of sacred chiefs a real, though at the same time purely imaginary barrier, to transgress which actually entailed the death of the transgressor whenever he became aware of what he had done. this fatal power of the imagination working through superstitious terrors is by no means confined to one race; it appears to be common among savages. for example, among the aborigines of australia a native will die after the infliction of even the most superficial wound, if only he believes that the weapon which inflicted the wound had been sung over and thus endowed with magical virtue. he simply lies down, refuses food, and pines away. similarly among some of the indian tribes of brazil, if the medicine-man predicted the death of any one who had offended him, "the wretch took to his hammock instantly in such full expectation of dying, that he would neither eat nor drink, and the prediction was a sentence which faith effectually executed." . mourners tabooed thus regarding his sacred chiefs and kings as charged with a mysterious spiritual force which so to say explodes at contact, the savage naturally ranks them among the dangerous classes of society, and imposes upon them the same sort of restraints that he lays on manslayers, menstruous women, and other persons whom he looks upon with a certain fear and horror. for example, sacred kings and priests in polynesia were not allowed to touch food with their hands, and had therefore to be fed by others; and as we have just seen, their vessels, garments, and other property might not be used by others on pain of disease and death. now precisely the same observances are exacted by some savages from girls at their first menstruation, women after childbirth, homicides, mourners, and all persons who have come into contact with the dead. thus, for example, to begin with the last class of persons, among the maoris any one who had handled a corpse, helped to convey it to the grave, or touched a dead man's bones, was cut off from all intercourse and almost all communication with mankind. he could not enter any house, or come into contact with any person or thing, without utterly bedevilling them. he might not even touch food with his hands, which had become so frightfully tabooed or unclean as to be quite useless. food would be set for him on the ground, and he would then sit or kneel down, and, with his hands carefully held behind his back, would gnaw at it as best he could. in some cases he would be fed by another person, who with outstretched arm contrived to do it without touching the tabooed man; but the feeder was himself subjected to many severe restrictions, little less onerous than those which were imposed upon the other. in almost every populous village there lived a degraded wretch, the lowest of the low, who earned a sorry pittance by thus waiting upon the defiled. clad in rags, daubed from head to foot with red ochre and stinking shark oil, always solitary and silent, generally old, haggard, and wizened, often half crazed, he might be seen sitting motionless all day apart from the common path or thoroughfare of the village, gazing with lack-lustre eyes on the busy doings in which he might never take a part. twice a day a dole of food would be thrown on the ground before him to munch as well as he could without the use of his hands; and at night, huddling his greasy tatters about him, he would crawl into some miserable lair of leaves and refuse, where, dirty, cold, and hungry, he passed, in broken ghost-haunted slumbers, a wretched night as a prelude to another wretched day. such was the only human being deemed fit to associate at arm's length with one who had paid the last offices of respect and friendship to the dead. and when, the dismal term of his seclusion being over, the mourner was about to mix with his fellows once more, all the dishes he had used in his seclusion were diligently smashed, and all the garments he had worn were carefully thrown away, lest they should spread the contagion of his defilement among others, just as the vessels and clothes of sacred kings and chiefs are destroyed or cast away for a similar reason. so complete in these respects is the analogy which the savage traces between the spiritual influences that emanate from divinities and from the dead, between the odour of sanctity and the stench of corruption. the rule which forbids persons who have been in contact with the dead to touch food with their hands would seem to have been universal in polynesia. thus in samoa "those who attended the deceased were most careful not to handle food, and for days were fed by others as if they were helpless infants. baldness and the loss of teeth were supposed to be the punishment inflicted by the household god if they violated the rule." again, in tonga, "no person can touch a dead chief without being taboo'd for ten lunar months, except chiefs, who are only taboo'd for three, four, or five months, according to the superiority of the dead chief; except again it be the body of tooitonga [the great divine chief], and then even the greatest chief would be taboo'd ten months. . . . during the time a man is taboo'd he must not feed himself with his own hands, but must be fed by somebody else: he must not even use a toothpick himself, but must guide another person's hand holding the toothpick. if he is hungry and there is no one to feed him, he must go down upon his hands and knees, and pick up his victuals with his mouth: and if he infringes upon any of these rules, it is firmly expected that he will swell up and die." among the shuswap of british columbia widows and widowers in mourning are secluded and forbidden to touch their own head or body; the cups and cooking-vessels which they use may be used by no one else. they must build a sweat-house beside a creek, sweat there all night and bathe regularly, after which they must rub their bodies with branches of spruce. the branches may not be used more than once, and when they have served their purpose they are stuck into the ground all round the hut. no hunter would come near such mourners, for their presence is unlucky. if their shadow were to fall on any one, he would be taken ill at once. they employ thorn bushes for bed and pillow, in order to keep away the ghost of the deceased; and thorn bushes are also laid all around their beds. this last precaution shows clearly what the spiritual danger is which leads to the exclusion of such persons from ordinary society; it is simply a fear of the ghost who is supposed to be hovering near them. in the mekeo district of british new guinea a widower loses all his civil rights and becomes a social outcast, an object of fear and horror, shunned by all. he may not cultivate a garden, nor show himself in public, nor traverse the village, nor walk on the roads and paths. like a wild beast he must skulk in the long grass and the bushes; and if he sees or hears any one coming, especially a woman, he must hide behind a tree or a thicket. if he wishes to fish or hunt, he must do it alone and at night. if he would consult any one, even the missionary, he does so by stealth and at night; he seems to have lost his voice and speaks only in whispers. were he to join a party of fishers or hunters, his presence would bring misfortune on them; the ghost of his dead wife would frighten away the fish or the game. he goes about everywhere and at all times armed with a tomahawk to defend himself, not only against wild boars in the jungle, but against the dreaded spirit of his departed spouse, who would do him an ill turn if she could; for all the souls of the dead are malignant and their only delight is to harm the living. . women tabooed at menstruation and childbirth in general, we may say that the prohibition to use the vessels, garments, and so forth of certain persons, and the effects supposed to follow an infraction of the rule, are exactly the same whether the persons to whom the things belong are sacred or what we might call unclean and polluted. as the garments which have been touched by a sacred chief kill those who handle them, so do the things which have been touched by a menstruous women. an australian blackfellow, who discovered that his wife had lain on his blanket at her menstrual period, killed her and died of terror himself within a fortnight. hence australian women at these times are forbidden under pain of death to touch anything that men use, or even to walk on a path that any man frequents. they are also secluded at childbirth, and all vessels used by them during their seclusion are burned. in uganda the pots which a woman touches, while the impurity of childbirth or of menstruation is on her, should be destroyed; spears and shields defiled by her touch are not destroyed, but only purified. "among all the déné and most other american tribes, hardly any other being was the object of so much dread as a menstruating woman. as soon as signs of that condition made themselves apparent in a young girl she was carefully segregated from all but female company, and had to live by herself in a small hut away from the gaze of the villagers or of the male members of the roving band. while in that awful state, she had to abstain from touching anything belonging to man, or the spoils of any venison or other animal, lest she would thereby pollute the same, and condemn the hunters to failure, owing to the anger of the game thus slighted. dried fish formed her diet, and cold water, absorbed through a drinking tube, was her only beverage. moreover, as the very sight of her was dangerous to society, a special skin bonnet, with fringes falling over her face down to her breast, hid her from the public gaze, even some time after she had recovered her normal state." among the bribri indians of costa rica a menstruous woman is regarded as unclean. the only plates she may use for her food are banana leaves, which, when she has done with them, she throws away in some sequestered spot; for were a cow to find them and eat them, the animal would waste away and perish. and she drinks out of a special vessel for a like reason; because if any one drank out of the same cup after her, he would surely die. among many peoples similar restrictions are imposed on women in childbed and apparently for similar reasons; at such periods women are supposed to be in a dangerous condition which would infect any person or thing they might touch; hence they are put into quarantine until, with the recovery of their health and strength, the imaginary danger has passed away. thus, in tahiti a woman after childbirth was secluded for a fortnight or three weeks in a temporary hut erected on sacred ground; during the time of her seclusion she was debarred from touching provisions, and had to be fed by another. further, if any one else touched the child at this period, he was subjected to the same restrictions as the mother until the ceremony of her purification had been performed. similarly in the island of kadiak, off alaska, a woman about to be delivered retires to a miserable low hovel built of reeds, where she must remain for twenty days after the birth of her child, whatever the season may be, and she is considered so unclean that no one will touch her, and food is reached to her on sticks. the bribri indians regard the pollution of childbed as much more dangerous even than that of menstruation. when a woman feels her time approaching, she informs her husband, who makes haste to build a hut for her in a lonely spot. there she must live alone, holding no converse with anybody save her mother or another woman. after her delivery the medicine-man purifies her by breathing on her and laying an animal, it matters not what, upon her. but even this ceremony only mitigates her uncleanness into a state considered to be equivalent to that of a menstruous woman; and for a full lunar month she must live apart from her housemates, observing the same rules with regard to eating and drinking as at her monthly periods. the case is still worse, the pollution is still more deadly, if she has had a miscarriage or has been delivered of a stillborn child. in that case she may not go near a living soul: the mere contact with things she has used is exceedingly dangerous: her food is handed to her at the end of a long stick. this lasts generally for three weeks, after which she may go home, subject only to the restrictions incident to an ordinary confinement. some bantu tribes entertain even more exaggerated notions of the virulent infection spread by a woman who has had a miscarriage and has concealed it. an experienced observer of these people tells us that the blood of childbirth "appears to the eyes of the south africans to be tainted with a pollution still more dangerous than that of the menstrual fluid. the husband is excluded from the hut for eight days of the lying-in period, chiefly from fear that he might be contaminated by this secretion. he dare not take his child in his arms for the three first months after the birth. but the secretion of childbed is particularly terrible when it is the product of a miscarriage, especially _a concealed miscarriage._ in this case it is not merely the man who is threatened or killed, it is the whole country, it is the sky itself which suffers. by a curious association of ideas a physiological fact causes cosmic troubles!" as for the disastrous effect which a miscarriage may have on the whole country i will quote the words of a medicine-man and rain-maker of the ba-pedi tribe: "when a woman has had a miscarriage, when she has allowed her blood to flow, and has hidden the child, it is enough to cause the burning winds to blow and to parch the country with heat. the rain no longer falls, for the country is no longer in order. when the rain approaches the place where the blood is, it will not dare to approach. it will fear and remain at a distance. that woman has committed a great fault. she has spoiled the country of the chief, for she has hidden blood which had not yet been well congealed to fashion a man. that blood is taboo. it should never drip on the road! the chief will assemble his men and say to them, 'are you in order in your villages?' some one will answer, 'such and such a woman was pregnant and we have not yet seen the child which she has given birth to.' then they go and arrest the woman. they say to her, 'show us where you have hidden it.' they go and dig at the spot, they sprinkle the hole with a decoction of two sorts of roots prepared in a special pot. they take a little of the earth of this grave, they throw it into the river, then they bring back water from the river and sprinkle it where she shed her blood. she herself must wash every day with the medicine. then the country will be moistened again (by rain). further, we (medicine-men), summon the women of the country; we tell them to prepare a ball of the earth which contains the blood. they bring it to us one morning. if we wish to prepare medicine with which to sprinkle the whole country, we crumble this earth to powder; at the end of five days we send little boys and little girls, girls that yet know nothing of women's affairs and have not yet had relations with men. we put the medicine in the horns of oxen, and these children go to all the fords, to all the entrances of the country. a little girl turns up the soil with her mattock, the others dip a branch in the horn and sprinkle the inside of the hole saying, 'rain! rain!' so we remove the misfortune which the women have brought on the roads; the rain will be able to come. the country is purified!" . warriors tabooed once more, warriors are conceived by the savage to move, so to say, in an atmosphere of spiritual danger which constrains them to practise a variety of superstitious observances quite different in their nature from those rational precautions which, as a matter of course, they adopt against foes of flesh and blood. the general effect of these observances is to place the warrior, both before and after victory, in the same state of seclusion or spiritual quarantine in which, for his own safety, primitive man puts his human gods and other dangerous characters. thus when the maoris went out on the war-path they were sacred or taboo in the highest degree, and they and their friends at home had to observe strictly many curious customs over and above the numerous taboos of ordinary life. they became, in the irreverent language of europeans who knew them in the old fighting days, "tabooed an inch thick"; and as for the leader of the expedition, he was quite unapproachable. similarly, when the israelites marched forth to war they were bound by certain rules of ceremonial purity identical with rules observed by maoris and australian blackfellows on the war-path. the vessels they used were sacred, and they had to practise continence and a custom of personal cleanliness of which the original motive, if we may judge from the avowed motive of savages who conform to the same custom, was a fear lest the enemy should obtain the refuse of their persons, and thus be enabled to work their destruction by magic. among some indian tribes of north america a young warrior in his first campaign had to conform to certain customs, of which two were identical with the observances imposed by the same indians on girls at their first menstruation: the vessels he ate and drank out of might be touched by no other person, and he was forbidden to scratch his head or any other part of his body with his fingers; if he could not help scratching himself, he had to do it with a stick. the latter rule, like the one which forbids a tabooed person to feed himself with his own fingers, seems to rest on the supposed sanctity or pollution, whichever we choose to call it, of the tabooed hands. moreover among these indian tribes the men on the war-path had always to sleep at night with their faces turned towards their own country; however uneasy the posture, they might not change it. they might not sit upon the bare ground, nor wet their feet, nor walk on a beaten path if they could help it; when they had no choice but to walk on a path, they sought to counteract the ill effect of doing so by doctoring their legs with certain medicines or charms which they carried with them for the purpose. no member of the party was permitted to step over the legs, hands, or body of any other member who chanced to be sitting or lying on the ground; and it was equally forbidden to step over his blanket, gun, tomahawk, or anything that belonged to him. if this rule was inadvertently broken, it became the duty of the member whose person or property had been stepped over to knock the other member down, and it was similarly the duty of that other to be knocked down peaceably and without resistance. the vessels out of which the warriors ate their food were commonly small bowls of wood or birch bark, with marks to distinguish the two sides; in marching from home the indians invariably drank out of one side of the bowl, and in returning they drank out of the other. when on their way home they came within a day's march of the village, they hung up all their bowls on trees, or threw them away on the prairie, doubtless to prevent their sanctity or defilement from being communicated with disastrous effects to their friends, just as we have seen that the vessels and clothes of the sacred mikado, of women at childbirth and menstruation, and of persons defiled by contact with the dead are destroyed or laid aside for a similar reason. the first four times that an apache indian goes out on the war-path, he is bound to refrain from scratching his head with his fingers and from letting water touch his lips. hence he scratches his head with a stick, and drinks through a hollow reed or cane. stick and reed are attached to the warrior's belt and to each other by a leathern thong. the rule not to scratch their heads with their fingers, but to use a stick for the purpose instead, was regularly observed by ojebways on the war-path. with regard to the creek indians and kindred tribes we are told they "will not cohabit with women while they are out at war; they religiously abstain from every kind of intercourse even with their own wives, for the space of three days and nights before they go to war, and so after they return home, because they are to sanctify themselves." among the ba-pedi and ba-thonga tribes of south africa not only have the warriors to abstain from women, but the people left behind in the villages are also bound to continence; they think that any incontinence on their part would cause thorns to grow on the ground traversed by the warriors, and that success would not attend the expedition. why exactly many savages have made it a rule to refrain from women in time of war, we cannot say for certain, but we may conjecture that their motive was a superstitious fear lest, on the principles of sympathetic magic, close contact with women should infect them with feminine weakness and cowardice. similarly some savages imagine that contact with a woman in childbed enervates warriors and enfeebles their weapons. indeed the kayans of central borneo go so far as to hold that to touch a loom or women's clothes would so weaken a man that he would have no success in hunting, fishing, and war. hence it is not merely sexual intercourse with women that the savage warrior sometimes shuns; he is careful to avoid the sex altogether. thus among the hill tribes of assam, not only are men forbidden to cohabit with their wives during or after a raid, but they may not eat food cooked by a woman; nay, they should not address a word even to their own wives. once a woman, who unwittingly broke the rule by speaking to her husband while he was under the war taboo, sickened and died when she learned the awful crime she had committed. . manslayers tabooed if the reader still doubts whether the rules of conduct which we have just been considering are based on superstitious fears or dictated by a rational prudence, his doubts will probably be dissipated when he learns that rules of the same sort are often imposed even more stringently on warriors after the victory has been won and when all fear of the living corporeal foe is at an end. in such cases one motive for the inconvenient restrictions laid on the victors in their hour of triumph is probably a dread of the angry ghosts of the slain; and that the fear of the vengeful ghosts does influence the behaviour of the slayers is often expressly affirmed. the general effect of the taboos laid on sacred chiefs, mourners, women at childbirth, men on the war-path, and so on, is to seclude or isolate the tabooed persons from ordinary society, this effect being attained by a variety of rules, which oblige the men or women to live in separate huts or in the open air, to shun the commerce of the sexes, to avoid the use of vessels employed by others, and so forth. now the same effect is produced by similar means in the case of victorious warriors, particularly such as have actually shed the blood of their enemies. in the island of timor, when a warlike expedition has returned in triumph bringing the heads of the vanquished foe, the leader of the expedition is forbidden by religion and custom to return at once to his own house. a special hut is prepared for him, in which he has to reside for two months, undergoing bodily and spiritual purification. during this time he may not go to his wife nor feed himself; the food must be put into his mouth by another person. that these observances are dictated by fear of the ghosts of the slain seems certain; for from another account of the ceremonies performed on the return of a successful head-hunter in the same island we learn that sacrifices are offered on this occasion to appease the soul of the man whose head has been taken; the people think that some misfortune would befall the victor were such offerings omitted. moreover, a part of the ceremony consists of a dance accompanied by a song, in which the death of the slain man is lamented and his forgiveness is entreated. "be not angry," they say, "because your head is here with us; had we been less lucky, our heads might now have been exposed in your village. we have offered the sacrifice to appease you. your spirit may now rest and leave us at peace. why were you our enemy? would it not have been better that we should remain friends? then your blood would not have been spilt and your head would not have been cut off." the people of paloo in central celebes take the heads of their enemies in war and afterwards propitiate the souls of the slain in the temple. among the tribes at the mouth of the wanigela river, in new guinea, "a man who has taken life is considered to be impure until he has undergone certain ceremonies: as soon as possible after the deed he cleanses himself and his weapon. this satisfactorily accomplished, he repairs to his village and seats himself on the logs of sacrificial staging. no one approaches him or takes any notice whatever of him. a house is prepared for him which is put in charge of two or three small boys as servants. he may eat only toasted bananas, and only the centre portion of them--the ends being thrown away. on the third day of his seclusion a small feast is prepared by his friends, who also fashion some new perineal bands for him. this is called _ivi poro._ the next day the man dons all his best ornaments and badges for taking life, and sallies forth fully armed and parades the village. the next day a hunt is organised, and a kangaroo selected from the game captured. it is cut open and the spleen and liver rubbed over the back of the man. he then walks solemnly down to the nearest water, and standing straddle-legs in it washes himself. all the young untried warriors swim between his legs. this is supposed to impart courage and strength to them. the following day, at early dawn, he dashes out of his house, fully armed, and calls aloud the name of his victim. having satisfied himself that he has thoroughly scared the ghost of the dead man, he returns to his house. the beating of flooring-boards and the lighting of fires is also a certain method of scaring the ghost. a day later his purification is finished. he can then enter his wife's house." in windessi, dutch new guinea, when a party of head-hunters has been successful, and they are nearing home, they announce their approach and success by blowing on triton shells. their canoes are also decked with branches. the faces of the men who have taken a head are blackened with charcoal. if several have taken part in killing the same victim, his head is divided among them. they always time their arrival so as to reach home in the early morning. they come rowing to the village with a great noise, and the women stand ready to dance in the verandahs of the houses. the canoes row past the _room sram_ or house where the young men live; and as they pass, the murderers throw as many pointed sticks or bamboos at the wall or the roof as there were enemies killed. the day is spent very quietly. now and then they drum or blow on the conch; at other times they beat the walls of the houses with loud shouts to drive away the ghosts of the slain. so the yabim of new guinea believe that the spirit of a murdered man pursues his murderer and seeks to do him a mischief. hence they drive away the spirit with shouts and the beating of drums. when the fijians had buried a man alive, as they often did, they used at nightfall to make a great uproar by means of bamboos, trumpet-shells, and so forth, for the purpose of frightening away his ghost, lest he should attempt to return to his old home. and to render his house unattractive to him they dismantled it and clothed it with everything that to their ideas seemed most repulsive. on the evening of the day on which they had tortured a prisoner to death, the american indians were wont to run through the village with hideous yells, beating with sticks on the furniture, the walls, and the roofs of the huts to prevent the angry ghost of their victim from settling there and taking vengeance for the torments that his body had endured at their hands. "once," says a traveller, "on approaching in the night a village of ottawas, i found all the inhabitants in confusion: they were all busily engaged in raising noises of the loudest and most inharmonious kind. upon inquiry, i found that a battle had been lately fought between the ottawas and the kickapoos, and that the object of all this noise was to prevent the ghosts of the departed combatants from entering the village." among the basutos "ablution is specially performed on return from battle. it is absolutely necessary that the warriors should rid themselves, as soon as possible, of the blood they have shed, or the shades of their victims would pursue them incessantly, and disturb their slumbers. they go in a procession, and in full armour, to the nearest stream. at the moment they enter the water a diviner, placed higher up, throws some purifying substances into the current. this is, however, not strictly necessary. the javelins and battle-axes also undergo the process of washing." among the bageshu of east africa a man who has killed another may not return to his own house on the same day, though he may enter the village and spend the night in a friend's house. he kills a sheep and smears his chest, his right arm, and his head with the contents of the animal's stomach. his children are brought to him and he smears them in like manner. then he smears each side of the doorway with the tripe and entrails, and finally throws the rest of the stomach on the roof of his house. for a whole day he may not touch food with his hands, but picks it up with two sticks and so conveys it to his mouth. his wife is not under any such restrictions. she may even go to mourn for the man whom her husband has killed, if she wishes to do so. among the angoni, to the north of the zambesi, warriors who have slain foes on an expedition smear their bodies and faces with ashes, hang garments of their victims on their persons, and tie bark ropes round their necks, so that the ends hang down over their shoulders or breasts. this costume they wear for three days after their return, and rising at break of day they run through the village uttering frightful yells to drive away the ghosts of the slain, which, if they were not thus banished from the houses, might bring sickness and misfortune on the inmates. in some of these accounts nothing is said of an enforced seclusion, at least after the ceremonial cleansing, but some south african tribes certainly require the slayer of a very gallant foe in war to keep apart from his wife and family for ten days after he has washed his body in running water. he also receives from the tribal doctor a medicine which he chews with his food. when a nandi of east africa has killed a member of another tribe, he paints one side of his body, spear, and sword red, and the other side white. for four days after the slaughter he is considered unclean and may not go home. he has to build a small shelter by a river and live there; he may not associate with his wife or sweetheart, and he may eat nothing but porridge, beef, and goat's flesh. at the end of the fourth day he must purify himself by taking a strong purge made from the bark of the _segetet_ tree and by drinking goat's milk mixed with blood. among the bantu tribes of kavirondo, when a man has killed an enemy in warfare he shaves his head on his return home, and his friends rub a medicine, which generally consists of goat's dung, over his body to prevent the spirit of the slain man from troubling him. exactly the same custom is practised for the same reason by the wageia of east africa. with the ja-luo of kavirondo the custom is somewhat different. three days after his return from the fight the warrior shaves his head. but before he may enter his village he has to hang a live fowl, head uppermost, round his neck; then the bird is decapitated and its head left hanging round his neck. soon after his return a feast is made for the slain man, in order that his ghost may not haunt his slayer. in the pelew islands, when the men return from a warlike expedition in which they have taken a life, the young warriors who have been out fighting for the first time, and all who handled the slain, are shut up in the large council-house and become tabooed. they may not quit the edifice, nor bathe, nor touch a woman, nor eat fish; their food is limited to coco-nuts and syrup. they rub themselves with charmed leaves and chew charmed betel. after three days they go together to bathe as near as possible to the spot where the man was killed. among the natchez indians of north america young braves who had taken their first scalps were obliged to observe certain rules of abstinence for six months. they might not sleep with their wives nor eat flesh; their only food was fish and hasty-pudding. if they broke these rules, they believed that the soul of the man they had killed would work their death by magic, that they would gain no more successes over the enemy, and that the least wound inflicted on them would prove mortal. when a choctaw had killed an enemy and taken his scalp, he went into mourning for a month, during which he might not comb his hair, and if his head itched he might not scratch it except with a little stick which he wore fastened to his wrist for the purpose. this ceremonial mourning for the enemies they had slain was not uncommon among the north american indians. thus we see that warriors who have taken the life of a foe in battle are temporarily cut off from free intercourse with their fellows, and especially with their wives, and must undergo certain rites of purification before they are readmitted to society. now if the purpose of their seclusion and of the expiatory rites which they have to perform is, as we have been led to believe, no other than to shake off, frighten, or appease the angry spirit of the slain man, we may safely conjecture that the similar purification of homicides and murderers, who have imbrued their hands in the blood of a fellow-tribesman, had at first the same significance, and that the idea of a moral or spiritual regeneration symbolised by the washing, the fasting, and so on, was merely a later interpretation put upon the old custom by men who had outgrown the primitive modes of thought in which the custom originated. the conjecture will be confirmed if we can show that savages have actually imposed certain restrictions on the murderer of a fellow-tribesman from a definite fear that he is haunted by the ghost of his victim. this we can do with regard to the omahas of north america. among these indians the kinsmen of a murdered man had the right to put the murderer to death, but sometimes they waived their right in consideration of presents which they consented to accept. when the life of the murderer was spared, he had to observe certain stringent rules for a period which varied from two to four years. he must walk barefoot, and he might eat no warm food, nor raise his voice, nor look around. he was compelled to pull his robe about him and to have it tied at the neck even in hot weather; he might not let it hang loose or fly open. he might not move his hands about, but had to keep them close to his body. he might not comb his hair, and it might not be blown about by the wind. when the tribe went out hunting, he was obliged to pitch his tent about a quarter of mile from the rest of the people "lest the ghost of his victim should raise a high wind, which might cause damage." only one of his kindred was allowed to remain with him at his tent. no one wished to eat with him, for they said, "if we eat with him whom wakanda hates, wakanda will hate us." sometimes he wandered at night crying and lamenting his offence. at the end of his long isolation the kinsmen of the murdered man heard his crying and said, "it is enough. begone, and walk among the crowd. put on moccasins and wear a good robe." here the reason alleged for keeping the murderer at a considerable distance from the hunters gives the clue to all the other restrictions laid on him: he was haunted and therefore dangerous. the ancient greeks believed that the soul of a man who had just been killed was wroth with his slayer and troubled him; wherefore it was needful even for the involuntary homicide to depart from his country for a year until the anger of the dead man had cooled down; nor might the slayer return until sacrifice had been offered and ceremonies of purification performed. if his victim chanced to be a foreigner, the homicide had to shun the native country of the dead man as well as his own. the legend of the matricide orestes, how he roamed from place to place pursued by the furies of his murdered mother, and none would sit at meat with him, or take him in, till he had been purified, reflects faithfully the real greek dread of such as were still haunted by an angry ghost. . hunters and fishers tabooed in savage society the hunter and the fisherman have often to observe rules of abstinence and to submit to ceremonies of purification of the same sort as those which are obligatory on the warrior and the manslayer; and though we cannot in all cases perceive the exact purpose which these rules and ceremonies are supposed to serve, we may with some probability assume that, just as the dread of the spirits of his enemies is the main motive for the seclusion and purification of the warrior who hopes to take or has already taken their lives, so the huntsman or fisherman who complies with similar customs is principally actuated by a fear of the spirits of the beasts, birds, or fish which he has killed or intends to kill. for the savage commonly conceives animals to be endowed with souls and intelligences like his own, and hence he naturally treats them with similar respect. just as he attempts to appease the ghosts of the men he has slain, so he essays to propitiate the spirits of the animals he has killed. these ceremonies of propitiation will be described later on in this work; here we have to deal, first, with the taboos observed by the hunter and the fisherman before or during the hunting and fishing seasons, and, second, with the ceremonies of purification which have to be practised by these men on returning with their booty from a successful chase. while the savage respects, more or less, the souls of all animals, he treats with particular deference the spirits of such as are either especially useful to him or formidable on account of their size, strength, or ferocity. accordingly the hunting and killing of these valuable or dangerous beasts are subject to more elaborate rules and ceremonies than the slaughter of comparatively useless and insignificant creatures. thus the indians of nootka sound prepared themselves for catching whales by observing a fast for a week, during which they ate very little, bathed in the water several times a day, sang, and rubbed their bodies, limbs, and faces with shells and bushes till they looked as if they had been severely torn with briars. they were likewise required to abstain from any commerce with their women for the like period, this last condition being considered indispensable to their success. a chief who failed to catch a whale has been known to attribute his failure to a breach of chastity on the part of his men. it should be remarked that the conduct thus prescribed as a preparation for whaling is precisely that which in the same tribe of indians was required of men about to go on the war-path. rules of the same sort are, or were formerly, observed by malagasy whalers. for eight days before they went to sea the crew of a whaler used to fast, abstaining from women and liquor, and confessing their most secret faults to each other; and if any man was found to have sinned deeply, he was forbidden to share in the expedition. in the island of mabuiag continence was imposed on the people both before they went to hunt the dugong and while the turtles were pairing. the turtle-season lasts during parts of october and november; and if at that time unmarried persons had sexual intercourse with each other, it was believed that when the canoe approached the floating turtle, the male would separate from the female and both would dive down in different directions. so at mowat in new guinea men have no relation with women when the turtles are coupling, though there is considerable laxity of morals at other times. in the island of uap, one of the caroline group, every fisherman plying his craft lies under a most strict taboo during the whole of the fishing season, which lasts for six or eight weeks. whenever he is on shore he must spend all his time in the men's clubhouse, and under no pretext whatever may he visit his own house or so much as look upon the faces of his wife and womenkind. were he but to steal a glance at them, they think that flying fish must inevitably bore out his eyes at night. if his wife, mother, or daughter brings any gift for him or wishes to talk with him, she must stand down towards the shore with her back turned to the men's clubhouse. then the fisherman may go out and speak to her, or with his back turned to her he may receive what she has brought him; after which he must return at once to his rigorous confinement. indeed the fishermen may not even join in dance and song with the other men of the clubhouse in the evening; they must keep to themselves and be silent. in mirzapur, when the seed of the silkworm is brought into the house, the kol or bhuiyar puts it in a place which has been carefully plastered with holy cowdung to bring good luck. from that time the owner must be careful to avoid ceremonial impurity. he must give up cohabitation with his wife; he may not sleep on a bed, nor shave himself, nor cut his nails, nor anoint himself with oil, nor eat food cooked with butter, nor tell lies, nor do anything else that he deems wrong. he vows to singarmati devi that, if the worms are duly born, he will make her an offering. when the cocoons open and the worms appear, he assembles the women of the house and they sing the same song as at the birth of a baby, and red lead is smeared on the parting of the hair of all the married women of the neighbourhood. when the worms pair, rejoicings are made as at a marriage. thus the silkworms are treated as far as possible like human beings. hence the custom which prohibits the commerce of the sexes while the worms are hatching may be only an extension, by analogy, of the rule which is observed by many races, that the husband may not cohabit with his wife during pregnancy and lactation. in the island of nias the hunters sometimes dig pits, cover them lightly over with twigs, grass, and leaves, and then drive the game into them. while they are engaged in digging the pits, they have to observe a number of taboos. they may not spit, or the game would turn back in disgust from the pits. they may not laugh, or the sides of the pit would fall in. they may eat no salt, prepare no fodder for swine, and in the pit they may not scratch themselves, for if they did, the earth would be loosened and would collapse. and the night after digging the pit they may have no intercourse with a woman, or all their labour would be in vain. this practice of observing strict chastity as a condition of success in hunting and fishing is very common among rude races; and the instances of it which have been cited render it probable that the rule is always based on a superstition rather than on a consideration of the temporary weakness which a breach of the custom may entail on the hunter or fisherman. in general it appears to be supposed that the evil effect of incontinence is not so much that it weakens him, as that, for some reason or other, it offends the animals, who in consequence will not suffer themselves to be caught. a carrier indian of british columbia used to separate from his wife for a full month before he set traps for bears, and during this time he might not drink from the same vessel as his wife, but had to use a special cup made of birch bark. the neglect of these precautions would cause the game to escape after it had been snared. but when he was about to snare martens, the period of continence was cut down to ten days. an examination of all the many cases in which the savage bridles his passions and remains chaste from motives of superstition, would be instructive, but i cannot attempt it now. i will only add a few miscellaneous examples of the custom before passing to the ceremonies of purification which are observed by the hunter and fisherman after the chase and the fishing are over. the workers in the salt-pans near siphoum, in laos, must abstain from all sexual relations at the place where they are at work; and they may not cover their heads nor shelter themselves under an umbrella from the burning rays of the sun. among the kachins of burma the ferment used in making beer is prepared by two women, chosen by lot, who during the three days that the process lasts may eat nothing acid and may have no conjugal relations with their husbands; otherwise it is supposed that the beer would be sour. among the masai honey-wine is brewed by a man and a woman who live in a hut set apart for them till the wine is ready for drinking. but they are strictly forbidden to have sexual intercourse with each other during this time; it is deemed essential that they should be chaste for two days before they begin to brew and for the whole of the six days that the brewing lasts. the masai believe that were the couple to commit a breach of chastity, not only would the wine be undrinkable but the bees which made the honey would fly away. similarly they require that a man who is making poison should sleep alone and observe other taboos which render him almost an outcast. the wandorobbo, a tribe of the same region as the masai, believe that the mere presence of a woman in the neighbourhood of a man who is brewing poison would deprive the poison of its venom, and that the same thing would happen if the wife of the poison-maker were to commit adultery while her husband was brewing the poison. in this last case it is obvious that a rationalistic explanation of the taboo is impossible. how could the loss of virtue in the poison be a physical consequence of the loss of virtue in the poison-maker's wife? clearly the effect which the wife's adultery is supposed to have on the poison is a case of sympathetic magic; her misconduct sympathetically affects her husband and his work at a distance. we may, accordingly, infer with some confidence that the rule of continence imposed on the poison-maker himself is also a simple case of sympathetic magic, and not, as a civilised reader might be disposed to conjecture, a wise precaution designed to prevent him from accidentally poisoning his wife. among the ba-pedi and ba-thonga tribes of south africa, when the site of a new village has been chosen and the houses are building, all the married people are forbidden to have conjugal relations with each other. if it were discovered that any couple had broken this rule, the work of building would immediately be stopped, and another site chosen for the village. for they think that a breach of chastity would spoil the village which was growing up, that the chief would grow lean and perhaps die, and that the guilty woman would never bear another child. among the chams of cochin-china, when a dam is made or repaired on a river for the sake of irrigation, the chief who offers the traditional sacrifices and implores the protection of the deities on the work has to stay all the time in a wretched hovel of straw, taking no part in the labour, and observing the strictest continence; for the people believe that a breach of his chastity would entail a breach of the dam. here, it is plain, there can be no idea of maintaining the mere bodily vigour of the chief for the accomplishment of a task in which he does not even bear a hand. if the taboos or abstinences observed by hunters and fishermen before and during the chase are dictated, as we have seen reason to believe, by superstitious motives, and chiefly by a dread of offending or frightening the spirits of the creatures whom it is proposed to kill, we may expect that the restraints imposed after the slaughter has been perpetrated will be at least as stringent, the slayer and his friends having now the added fear of the angry ghosts of his victims before their eyes. whereas on the hypothesis that the abstinences in question, including those from food, drink, and sleep, are merely salutary precautions for maintaining the men in health and strength to do their work, it is obvious that the observance of these abstinences or taboos after the work is done, that is, when the game is killed and the fish caught, must be wholly superfluous, absurd, and inexplicable. but as i shall now show, these taboos often continue to be enforced or even increased in stringency after the death of the animals, in other words, after the hunter or fisher has accomplished his object by making his bag or landing his fish. the rationalistic theory of them therefore breaks down entirely; the hypothesis of superstition is clearly the only one open to us. among the inuit or esquimaux of bering strait "the dead bodies of various animals must be treated very carefully by the hunter who obtains them, so that their shades may not be offended and bring bad luck or even death upon him or his people." hence the unalit hunter who has had a hand in the killing of a white whale, or even has helped to take one from the net, is not allowed to do any work for the next four days, that being the time during which the shade or ghost of the whale is supposed to stay with its body. at the same time no one in the village may use any sharp or pointed instrument for fear of wounding the whale's shade, which is believed to be hovering invisible in the neighbourhood; and no loud noise may be made lest it should frighten or offend the ghost. whoever cuts a whale's body with an iron axe will die. indeed the use of all iron instruments is forbidden in the village during these four days. these same esquimaux celebrate a great annual festival in december when the bladders of all the seals, whales, walrus, and white bears that have been killed in the year are taken into the assembly-house of the village. they remain there for several days, and so long as they do so the hunters avoid all intercourse with women, saying that if they failed in that respect the shades of the dead animals would be offended. similarly among the aleuts of alaska the hunter who had struck a whale with a charmed spear would not throw again, but returned at once to his home and separated himself from his people in a hut specially constructed for the purpose, where he stayed for three days without food or drink, and without touching or looking upon a woman. during this time of seclusion he snorted occasionally in imitation of the wounded and dying whale, in order to prevent the whale which he had struck from leaving the coast. on the fourth day he emerged from his seclusion and bathed in the sea, shrieking in a hoarse voice and beating the water with his hands. then, taking with him a companion, he repaired to that part of the shore where he expected to find the whale stranded. if the beast was dead, he at once cut out the place where the death-wound had been inflicted. if the whale was not dead, he again returned to his home and continued washing himself until the whale died. here the hunter's imitation of the wounded whale is probably intended by means of homoeopathic magic to make the beast die in earnest. once more the soul of the grim polar bear is offended if the taboos which concern him are not observed. his soul tarries for three days near the spot where it left his body, and during these days the esquimaux are particularly careful to conform rigidly to the laws of taboo, because they believe that punishment overtakes the transgressor who sins against the soul of a bear far more speedily than him who sins against the souls of the sea-beasts. when the kayans have shot one of the dreaded bornean panthers, they are very anxious about the safety of their souls, for they think that the soul of a panther is almost more powerful than their own. hence they step eight times over the carcase of the dead beast reciting the spell, "panther, thy soul under my soul." on returning home they smear themselves, their dogs, and their weapons with the blood of fowls in order to calm their souls and hinder them from fleeing away; for, being themselves fond of the flesh of fowls, they ascribe the same taste to their souls. for eight days afterwards they must bathe by day and by night before going out again to the chase. among the hottentots, when a man has killed a lion, leopard, elephant, or rhinoceros, he is esteemed a great hero, but he has to remain at home quite idle for three days, during which his wife may not come near him; she is also enjoined to restrict herself to a poor diet and to eat no more than is barely necessary to keep her in health. similarly the lapps deem it the height of glory to kill a bear, which they consider the king of beasts. nevertheless, all the men who take part in the slaughter are regarded as unclean, and must live by themselves for three days in a hut or tent made specially for them, where they cut up and cook the bear's carcase. the reindeer which brought in the carcase on a sledge may not be driven by a woman for a whole year; indeed, according to one account, it may not be used by anybody for that period. before the men go into the tent where they are to be secluded, they strip themselves of the garments they had worn in killing the bear, and their wives spit the red juice of alder bark in their faces. they enter the tent not by the ordinary door but by an opening at the back. when the bear's flesh has been cooked, a portion of it is sent by the hands of two men to the women, who may not approach the men's tent while the cooking is going on. the men who convey the flesh to the women pretend to be strangers bringing presents from a foreign land; the women keep up the pretence and promise to tie red threads round the legs of the strangers. the bear's flesh may not be passed in to the women through the door of their tent, but must be thrust in at a special opening made by lifting up the hem of the tent-cover. when the three days' seclusion is over and the men are at liberty to return to their wives, they run, one after the other, round the fire, holding the chain by which pots are suspended over it. this is regarded as a form of purification; they may now leave the tent by the ordinary door and rejoin the women. but the leader of the party must still abstain from cohabitation with his wife for two days more. again, the caffres are said to dread greatly the boa-constrictor or an enormous serpent resembling it; "and being influenced by certain superstitious notions they even fear to kill it. the man who happened to put it to death, whether in self-defence or otherwise, was formerly required to lie in a running stream of water during the day for several weeks together; and no beast whatever was allowed to be slaughtered at the hamlet to which he belonged, until this duty had been fully performed. the body of the snake was then taken and carefully buried in a trench, dug close to the cattle-fold, where its remains, like those of a chief, were henceforward kept perfectly undisturbed. the period of penance, as in the case of mourning for the dead, is now happily reduced to a few days." in madras it is considered a great sin to kill a cobra. when this has happened, the people generally burn the body of the serpent, just as they burn the bodies of human beings. the murderer deems himself polluted for three days. on the second day milk is poured on the remains of the cobra. on the third day the guilty wretch is free from pollution. in these last cases the animal whose slaughter has to be atoned for is sacred, that is, it is one whose life is commonly spared from motives of superstition. yet the treatment of the sacrilegious slayer seems to resemble so closely the treatment of hunters and fishermen who have killed animals for food in the ordinary course of business, that the ideas on which both sets of customs are based may be assumed to be substantially the same. those ideas, if i am right, are the respect which the savage feels for the souls of beasts, especially valuable or formidable beasts, and the dread which he entertains of their vengeful ghosts. some confirmation of this view may be drawn from the ceremonies observed by fishermen of annam when the carcase of a whale is washed ashore. these fisherfolk, we are told, worship the whale on account of the benefits they derive from it. there is hardly a village on the sea-shore which has not its small pagoda, containing the bones, more or less authentic, of a whale. when a dead whale is washed ashore, the people accord it a solemn burial. the man who first caught sight of it acts as chief mourner, performing the rites which as chief mourner and heir he would perform for a human kinsman. he puts on all the garb of woe, the straw hat, the white robe with long sleeves turned inside out, and the other paraphernalia of full mourning. as next of kin to the deceased he presides over the funeral rites. perfumes are burned, sticks of incense kindled, leaves of gold and silver scattered, crackers let off. when the flesh has been cut off and the oil extracted, the remains of the carcase are buried in the sand. after wards a shed is set up and offerings are made in it. usually some time after the burial the spirit of the dead whale takes possession of some person in the village and declares by his mouth whether he is a male or a female. xxi. tabooed things . the meaning of taboo thus in primitive society the rules of ceremonial purity observed by divine kings, chiefs, and priests agree in many respects with the rules observed by homicides, mourners, women in childbed, girls at puberty, hunters and fishermen, and so on. to us these various classes of persons appear to differ totally in character and condition; some of them we should call holy, others we might pronounce unclean and polluted. but the savage makes no such moral distinction between them; the conceptions of holiness and pollution are not yet differentiated in his mind. to him the common feature of all these persons is that they are dangerous and in danger, and the danger in which they stand and to which they expose others is what we should call spiritual or ghostly, and therefore imaginary. the danger, however, is not less real because it is imaginary; imagination acts upon man as really as does gravitation, and may kill him as certainly as a dose of prussic acid. to seclude these persons from the rest of the world so that the dreaded spiritual danger shall neither reach them nor spread from them, is the object of the taboos which they have to observe. these taboos act, so to say, as electrical insulators to preserve the spiritual force with which these persons are charged from suffering or inflicting harm by contact with the outer world. to the illustrations of these general principles which have been already given i shall now add some more, drawing my examples, first, from the class of tabooed things, and, second, from the class of tabooed words; for in the opinion of the savage both things and words may, like persons, be charged or electrified, either temporarily or permanently, with the mysterious virtue of taboo, and may therefore require to be banished for a longer or shorter time from the familiar usage of common life. and the examples will be chosen with special reference to those sacred chiefs, kings and priests, who, more than anybody else, live fenced about by taboo as by a wall. tabooed things will be illustrated in the present chapter, and tabooed words in the next. . iron tabooed in the first place we may observe that the awful sanctity of kings naturally leads to a prohibition to touch their sacred persons. thus it was unlawful to lay hands on the person of a spartan king: no one might touch the body of the king or queen of tahiti: it is forbidden to touch the person of the king of siam under pain of death; and no one may touch the king of cambodia, for any purpose whatever, without his express command. in july the king was thrown from his carriage and lay insensible on the ground, but not one of his suite dared to touch him; a european coming to the spot carried the injured monarch to his palace. formerly no one might touch the king of corea; and if he deigned to touch a subject, the spot touched became sacred, and the person thus honoured had to wear a visible mark (generally a cord of red silk) for the rest of his life. above all, no iron might touch the king's body. in king tieng-tsong-tai-oang died of a tumour in the back, no one dreaming of employing the lancet, which would probably have saved his life. it is said that one king suffered terribly from an abscess in the lip, till his physician called in a jester, whose pranks made the king laugh heartily, and so the abscess burst. roman and sabine priests might not be shaved with iron but only with bronze razors or shears; and whenever an iron graving-tool was brought into the sacred grove of the arval brothers at rome for the purpose of cutting an inscription in stone, an expiatory sacrifice of a lamb and a pig must be offered, which was repeated when the graving-tool was removed from the grove. as a general rule iron might not be brought into greek sanctuaries. in crete sacrifices were offered to menedemus without the use of iron, because the legend ran that menedemus had been killed by an iron weapon in the trojan war. the archon of plataea might not touch iron; but once a year, at the annual commemoration of the men who fell at the battle of plataea, he was allowed to carry a sword wherewith to sacrifice a bull. to this day a hottentot priest never uses an iron knife, but always a sharp splint of quartz, in sacrificing an animal or circumcising a lad. among the ovambo of south-west africa custom requires that lads should be circumcised with a sharp flint; if none is to hand, the operation may be performed with iron, but the iron must afterwards be buried. amongst the moquis of arizona stone knives, hatchets, and so on have passed out of common use, but are retained in religious ceremonies. after the pawnees had ceased to use stone arrow-heads for ordinary purposes, they still employed them to slay the sacrifices, whether human captives or buffalo and deer. amongst the jews no iron tool was used in building the temple at jerusalem or in making an altar. the old wooden bridge (_pons sublicius_) at rome, which was considered sacred, was made and had to be kept in repair without the use of iron or bronze. it was expressly provided by law that the temple of jupiter liber at furfo might be repaired with iron tools. the council chamber at cyzicus was constructed of wood without any iron nails, the beams being so arranged that they could be taken out and replaced. this superstitious objection to iron perhaps dates from that early time in the history of society when iron was still a novelty, and as such was viewed by many with suspicion and dislike. for everything new is apt to excite the awe and dread of the savage. "it is a curious superstition," says a pioneer in borneo, "this of the dusuns, to attribute anything--whether good or bad, lucky or unlucky--that happens to them to something novel which has arrived in their country. for instance, my living in kindram has caused the intensely hot weather we have experienced of late." the unusually heavy rains which happened to follow the english survey of the nicobar islands in the winter of - were imputed by the alarmed natives to the wrath of the spirits at the theodolites, dumpy-levellers, and other strange instruments which had been set up in so many of their favourite haunts; and some of them proposed to soothe the anger of the spirits by sacrificing a pig. in the seventeenth century a succession of bad seasons excited a revolt among the esthonian peasantry, who traced the origin of the evil to a watermill, which put a stream to some inconvenience by checking its flow. the first introduction of iron ploughshares into poland having been followed by a succession of bad harvests, the farmers attributed the badness of the crops to the iron ploughshares, and discarded them for the old wooden ones. to this day the primitive baduwis of java, who live chiefly by husbandry, will use no iron tools in tilling their fields. the general dislike of innovation, which always makes itself strongly felt in the sphere of religion, is sufficient by itself to account for the superstitious aversion to iron entertained by kings and priests and attributed by them to the gods; possibly this aversion may have been intensified in places by some such accidental cause as the series of bad seasons which cast discredit on iron ploughshares in poland. but the disfavour in which iron is held by the gods and their ministers has another side. their antipathy to the metal furnishes men with a weapon which may be turned against the spirits when occasion serves. as their dislike of iron is supposed to be so great that they will not approach persons and things protected by the obnoxious metal, iron may obviously be employed as a charm for banning ghosts and other dangerous spirits. and often it is so used. thus in the highlands of scotland the great safeguard against the elfin race is iron, or, better yet, steel. the metal in any form, whether as a sword, a knife, a gun-barrel, or what not, is all-powerful for this purpose. whenever you enter a fairy dwelling you should always remember to stick a piece of steel, such as a knife, a needle, or a fish-hook, in the door; for then the elves will not be able to shut the door till you come out again. so, too, when you have shot a deer and are bringing it home at night, be sure to thrust a knife into the carcase, for that keeps the fairies from laying their weight on it. a knife or nail in your pocket is quite enough to prevent the fairies from lifting you up at night. nails in the front of a bed ward off elves from women "in the straw" and from their babes; but to make quite sure it is better to put the smoothing-iron under the bed, and the reaping-hook in the window. if a bull has fallen over a rock and been killed, a nail stuck into it will preserve the flesh from the fairies. music discoursed on a jew's harp keeps the elfin women away from the hunter, because the tongue of the instrument is of steel. in morocco iron is considered a great protection against demons; hence it is usual to place a knife or dagger under a sick man's pillow. the singhalese believe that they are constantly surrounded by evil spirits, who lie in wait to do them harm. a peasant would not dare to carry good food, such as cakes or roast meat, from one place to another without putting an iron nail on it to prevent a demon from taking possession of the viands and so making the eater ill. no sick person, whether man or woman, would venture out of the house without a bunch of keys or a knife in his hand, for without such a talisman he would fear that some devil might take advantage of his weak state to slip into his body. and if a man has a large sore on his body he tries to keep a morsel of iron on it as a protection against demons. on the slave coast when a mother sees her child gradually wasting away, she concludes that a demon has entered into the child, and takes her measures accordingly. to lure the demon out of the body of her offspring, she offers a sacrifice of food; and while the devil is bolting it, she attaches iron rings and small bells to her child's ankles and hangs iron chains round his neck. the jingling of the iron and the tinkling of the bells are supposed to prevent the demon, when he has concluded his repast, from entering again into the body of the little sufferer. hence many children may be seen in this part of africa weighed down with iron ornaments. . sharp weapons tabooed there is a priestly king to the north of zengwih in burma, revered by the sotih as the highest spiritual and temporal authority, into whose house no weapon or cutting instrument may be brought. this rule may perhaps be explained by a custom observed by various peoples after a death; they refrain from the use of sharp instruments so long as the ghost of the deceased is supposed to be near, lest they should wound it. thus among the esquimaux of bering strait "during the day on which a person dies in the village no one is permitted to work, and the relatives must perform no labour during the three following days. it is especially forbidden during this period to cut with any edged instrument, such as a knife or an axe; and the use of pointed instruments, like needles or bodkins, is also forbidden. this is said to be done to avoid cutting or injuring the shade, which may be present at any time during this period, and, if accidentally injured by any of these things, it would become very angry and bring sickness or death to the people. the relatives must also be very careful at this time not to make any loud or harsh noises that may startle or anger the shade." we have seen that in like manner after killing a white whale these esquimaux abstain from the use of cutting or pointed instruments for four days, lest they should unwittingly cut or stab the whale's ghost. the same taboo is sometimes observed by them when there is a sick person in the village, probably from a fear of injuring his shade which may be hovering outside of his body. after a death the roumanians of transylvania are careful not to leave a knife lying with the sharp edge uppermost so long as the corpse remains in the house, "or else the soul will be forced to ride on the blade." for seven days after a death, the corpse being still in the house, the chinese abstain from the use of knives and needles, and even of chopsticks, eating their food with their fingers. on the third, sixth, ninth, and fortieth days after the funeral the old prussians and lithuanians used to prepare a meal, to which, standing at the door, they invited the soul of the deceased. at these meals they sat silent round the table and used no knives and the women who served up the food were also without knives. if any morsels fell from the table they were left lying there for the lonely souls that had no living relations or friends to feed them. when the meal was over the priest took a broom and swept the souls out of the house, saying, "dear souls, ye have eaten and drunk. go forth, go forth." we can now understand why no cutting instrument may be taken into the house of the burmese pontiff. like so many priestly kings, he is probably regarded as divine, and it is therefore right that his sacred spirit should not be exposed to the risk of being cut or wounded whenever it quits his body to hover invisible in the air or to fly on some distant mission. . blood tabooed we have seen that the flamen dialis was forbidden to touch or even name raw flesh. at certain times a brahman teacher is enjoined not to look on raw flesh, blood, or persons whose hands have been cut off. in uganda the father of twins is in a state of taboo for some time after birth; among other rules he is forbidden to kill anything or to see blood. in the pelew islands when a raid has been made on a village and a head carried off, the relations of the slain man are tabooed and have to submit to certain observances in order to escape the wrath of his ghost. they are shut up in the house, touch no raw flesh, and chew betel over which an incantation has been uttered by the exorcist. after this the ghost of the slaughtered man goes away to the enemy's country in pursuit of his murderer. the taboo is probably based on the common belief that the soul or spirit of the animal is in the blood. as tabooed persons are believed to be in a perilous state--for example, the relations of the slain man are liable to the attacks of his indignant ghost--it is especially necessary to isolate them from contact with spirits; hence the prohibition to touch raw meat. but as usual the taboo is only the special enforcement of a general precept; in other words, its observance is particularly enjoined in circumstances which seem urgently to call for its application, but apart from such circumstances the prohibition is also observed, though less strictly, as a common rule of life. thus some of the esthonians will not taste blood because they believe that it contains the animal's soul, which would enter the body of the person who tasted the blood. some indian tribes of north america, "through a strong principle of religion, abstain in the strictest manner from eating the blood of any animal, as it contains the life and spirit of the beast." jewish hunters poured out the blood of the game they had killed and covered it up with dust. they would not taste the blood, believing that the soul or life of the animal was in the blood, or actually was the blood. it is a common rule that royal blood may not be shed upon the ground. hence when a king or one of his family is to be put to death a mode of execution is devised by which the royal blood shall not be spilt upon the earth. about the year the generalissimo of the army rebelled against the king of siam and put him to death "after the manner of royal criminals, or as princes of the blood are treated when convicted of capital crimes, which is by putting them into a large iron caldron, and pounding them to pieces with wooden pestles, because none of their royal blood must be spilt on the ground, it being, by their religion, thought great impiety to contaminate the divine blood by mixing it with earth." when kublai khan defeated and took his uncle nayan, who had rebelled against him, he caused nayan to be put to death by being wrapt in a carpet and tossed to and fro till he died, "because he would not have the blood of his line imperial spilt upon the ground or exposed in the eye of heaven and before the sun." "friar ricold mentions the tartar maxim: 'one khan will put another to death to get possession of the throne, but he takes great care that the blood be not spilt. for they say that it is highly improper that the blood of the great khan should be spilt upon the ground; so they cause the victim to be smothered somehow or other.' the like feeling prevails at the court of burma, where a peculiar mode of execution without bloodshed is reserved for princes of the blood." the reluctance to spill royal blood seems to be only a particular case of a general unwillingness to shed blood or at least to allow it to fall on the ground. marco polo tells us that in his day persons caught in the streets of cambaluc (peking) at unseasonable hours were arrested, and if found guilty of a misdemeanor were beaten with a stick. "under this punishment people sometimes die, but they adopt it in order to eschew bloodshed, for their _bacsis_ say that it is an evil thing to shed man's blood." in west sussex people believe that the ground on which human blood has been shed is accursed and will remain barren for ever. among some primitive peoples, when the blood of a tribesman has to be spilt it is not suffered to fall upon the ground, but is received upon the bodies of his fellow-tribesmen. thus in some australian tribes boys who are being circumcised are laid on a platform, formed by the living bodies of the tribesmen; and when a boy's tooth is knocked out as an initiatory ceremony, he is seated on the shoulders of a man, on whose breast the blood flows and may not be wiped away. "also the gauls used to drink their enemies' blood and paint themselves therewith. so also they write that the old irish were wont; and so have i seen some of the irish do, but not their enemies' but friends' blood, as, namely, at the execution of a notable traitor at limerick, called murrogh o'brien, i saw an old woman, which was his foster-mother, take up his head whilst he was quartered and suck up all the blood that ran thereout, saying that the earth was not worthy to drink it, and therewith also steeped her face and breast and tore her hair, crying out and shrieking most terribly." among the latuka of central africa the earth on which a drop of blood has fallen at childbirth is carefully scraped up with an iron shovel, put into a pot along with the water used in washing the mother, and buried tolerably deep outside the house on the left-hand side. in west africa, if a drop of your blood has fallen on the ground, you must carefully cover it up, rub and stamp it into the soil; if it has fallen on the side of a canoe or a tree, the place is cut out and the chip destroyed. one motive of these african customs may be a wish to prevent the blood from falling into the hands of magicians, who might make an evil use of it. that is admittedly the reason why people in west africa stamp out any blood of theirs which has dropped on the ground or cut out any wood that has been soaked with it. from a like dread of sorcery natives of new guinea are careful to burn any sticks, leaves, or rags which are stained with their blood; and if the blood has dripped on the ground they turn up the soil and if possible light a fire on the spot. the same fear explains the curious duties discharged by a class of men called _ramanga_ or "blue blood" among the betsileo of madagascar. it is their business to eat all the nail-parings and to lick up all the spilt blood of the nobles. when the nobles pare their nails, the parings are collected to the last scrap and swallowed by these _ramanga._ if the parings are too large, they are minced small and so gulped down. again, should a nobleman wound himself, say in cutting his nails or treading on something, the _ramanga_ lick up the blood as fast as possible. nobles of high rank hardly go anywhere without these humble attendants; but if it should happen that there are none of them present, the cut nails and the spilt blood are carefully collected to be afterwards swallowed by the _ramanga._ there is scarcely a nobleman of any pretensions who does not strictly observe this custom, the intention of which probably is to prevent these parts of his person from falling into the hands of sorcerers, who on the principles of contagious magic could work him harm thereby. the general explanation of the reluctance to shed blood on the ground is probably to be found in the belief that the soul is in the blood, and that therefore any ground on which it may fall necessarily becomes taboo or sacred. in new zealand anything upon which even a drop of a high chief's blood chances to fall becomes taboo or sacred to him. for instance, a party of natives having come to visit a chief in a fine new canoe, the chief got into it, but in doing so a splinter entered his foot, and the blood trickled on the canoe, which at once became sacred to him. the owner jumped out, dragged the canoe ashore opposite the chief's house, and left it there. again, a chief in entering a missionary's house knocked his head against a beam, and the blood flowed. the natives said that in former times the house would have belonged to the chief. as usually happens with taboos of universal application, the prohibition to spill the blood of a tribesman on the ground applies with peculiar stringency to chiefs and kings, and is observed in their case long after it has ceased to be observed in the case of others. . the head tabooed many peoples regard the head as peculiarly sacred; the special sanctity attributed to it is sometimes explained by a belief that it contains a spirit which is very sensitive to injury or disrespect. thus the yorubas hold that every man has three spiritual inmates, of whom the first, called olori, dwells in the head and is the man's protector, guardian, and guide. offerings are made to this spirit, chiefly of fowls, and some of the blood mixed with palmoil is rubbed on the forehead. the karens suppose that a being called the _tso_ resides in the upper part of the head, and while it retains its seat no harm can befall the person from the efforts of the seven _kelahs,_ or personified passions. "but if the _tso_ becomes heedless or weak certain evil to the person is the result. hence the head is carefully attended to, and all possible pains are taken to provide such dress and attire as will be pleasing to the _tso._" the siamese think that a spirit called _khuan_ or _kwun_ dwells in the human head, of which it is the guardian spirit. the spirit must be carefully protected from injury of every kind; hence the act of shaving or cutting the hair is accompanied with many ceremonies. the _kwun_ is very sensitive on points of honour, and would feel mortally insulted if the head in which he resides were touched by the hand of a stranger. the cambodians esteem it a grave offence to touch a man's head; some of them will not enter a place where anything whatever is suspended over their heads; and the meanest cambodian would never consent to live under an inhabited room. hence the houses are built of one story only; and even the government respects the prejudice by never placing a prisoner in the stocks under the floor of a house, though the houses are raised high above the ground. the same superstition exists amongst the malays; for an early traveller reports that in java people "wear nothing on their heads, and say that nothing must be on their heads . . . and if any person were to put his hand upon their head they would kill him; and they do not build houses with storeys, in order that they may not walk over each other's heads." the same superstition as to the head is found in full force throughout polynesia. thus of gattanewa, a marquesan chief, it is said that "to touch the top of his head, or anything which had been on his head, was sacrilege. to pass over his head was an indignity never to be forgotten." the son of a marquesan high priest has been seen to roll on the ground in an agony of rage and despair, begging for death, because some one had desecrated his head and deprived him of his divinity by sprinkling a few drops of water on his hair. but it was not the marquesan chiefs only whose heads were sacred. the head of every marquesan was taboo, and might neither be touched nor stepped over by another; even a father might not step over the head of his sleeping child; women were forbidden to carry or touch anything that had been in contact with, or had merely hung over, the head of their husband or father. no one was allowed to be over the head of the king of tonga. in tahiti any one who stood over the king or queen, or passed his hand over their heads, might be put to death. until certain rites were performed over it, a tahitian infant was especially taboo; whatever touched the child's head, while it was in this state, became sacred and was deposited in a consecrated place railed in for the purpose at the child's house. if a branch of a tree touched the child's head, the tree was cut down; and if in its fall it injured another tree so as to penetrate the bark, that tree also was cut down as unclean and unfit for use. after the rites were performed these special taboos ceased; but the head of a tahitian was always sacred, he never carried anything on it, and to touch it was an offence. so sacred was the head of a maori chief that "if he only touched it with his fingers, he was obliged immediately to apply them to his nose, and snuff up the sanctity which they had acquired by the touch, and thus restore it to the part from whence it was taken." on account of the sacredness of his head a maori chief "could not blow the fire with his mouth, for the breath being sacred, communicated his sanctity to it, and a brand might be taken by a slave, or a man of another tribe, or the fire might be used for other purposes, such as cooking, and so cause his death." . hair tabooed when the head was considered so sacred that it might not even be touched without grave offence, it is obvious that the cutting of the hair must have been a delicate and difficult operation. the difficulties and dangers which, on the primitive view, beset the operation are of two kinds. there is first the danger of disturbing the spirit of the head, which may be injured in the process and may revenge itself upon the person who molests him. secondly, there is the difficulty of disposing of the shorn locks. for the savage believes that the sympathetic connexion which exists between himself and every part of his body continues to exist even after the physical connexion has been broken, and that therefore he will suffer from any harm that may befall the several parts of his body, such as the clippings of his hair or the parings of his nails. accordingly he takes care that these severed portions of himself shall not be left in places where they might either be exposed to accidental injury or fall into the hands of malicious persons who might work magic on them to his detriment or death. such dangers are common to all, but sacred persons have more to fear from them than ordinary people, so the precautions taken by them are proportionately stringent. the simplest way of evading the peril is not to cut the hair at all; and this is the expedient adopted where the risk is thought to be more than usually great. the frankish kings were never allowed to crop their hair; from their childhood upwards they had to keep it unshorn. to poll the long locks that floated on their shoulders would have been to renounce their right to the throne. when the wicked brothers clotaire and childebert coveted the kingdom of their dead brother clodomir, they inveigled into their power their little nephews, the two sons of clodomir; and having done so, they sent a messenger bearing scissors and a naked sword to the children's grandmother, queen clotilde, at paris. the envoy showed the scissors and the sword to clotilde, and bade her choose whether the children should be shorn and live or remain unshorn and die. the proud queen replied that if her grandchildren were not to come to the throne she would rather see them dead than shorn. and murdered they were by their ruthless uncle clotaire with his own hand. the king of ponape, one of the caroline islands, must wear his hair long, and so must his grandees. among the hos, a negro tribe of west africa, "there are priests on whose head no razor may come during the whole of their lives. the god who dwells in the man forbids the cutting of his hair on pain of death. if the hair is at last too long, the owner must pray to his god to allow him at least to clip the tips of it. the hair is in fact conceived as the seat and lodging-place of his god, so that were it shorn the god would lose his abode in the priest." the members of a masai clan, who are believed to possess the art of making rain, may not pluck out their beards, because the loss of their beards would, it is supposed, entail the loss of their rain-making powers. the head chief and the sorcerers of the masai observe the same rule for a like reason: they think that were they to pull out their beards, their supernatural gifts would desert them. again, men who have taken a vow of vengeance sometimes keep their hair unshorn till they have fulfilled their vow. thus of the marquesans we are told that "occasionally they have their head entirely shaved, except one lock on the crown, which is worn loose or put up in a knot. but the latter mode of wearing the hair is only adopted by them when they have a solemn vow, as to revenge the death of some near relation, etc. in such case the lock is never cut off until they have fulfilled their promise." a similar custom was sometimes observed by the ancient germans; among the chatti the young warriors never clipped their hair or their beard till they had slain an enemy. among the toradjas, when a child's hair is cut to rid it of vermin, some locks are allowed to remain on the crown of the head as a refuge for one of the child's souls. otherwise the soul would have no place in which to settle, and the child would sicken. the karo-bataks are much afraid of frightening away the soul of a child; hence when they cut its hair, they always leave a patch unshorn, to which the soul can retreat before the shears. usually this lock remains unshorn all through life, or at least up till manhood. . ceremonies at hair-cutting but when it becomes necessary to crop the hair, measures are taken to lessen the dangers which are supposed to attend the operation. the chief of namosi in fiji always ate a man by way of precaution when he had had his hair cut. "there was a certain clan that had to provide the victim, and they used to sit in solemn council among themselves to choose him. it was a sacrificial feast to avert evil from the chief." amongst the maoris many spells were uttered at hair-cutting; one, for example, was spoken to consecrate the obsidian knife with which the hair was cut; another was pronounced to avert the thunder and lightning which hair-cutting was believed to cause. "he who has had his hair cut is in immediate charge of the atua (spirit); he is removed from the contact and society of his family and his tribe; he dare not touch his food himself; it is put into his mouth by another person; nor can he for some days resume his accustomed occupations or associate with his fellow-men." the person who cuts the hair is also tabooed; his hands having been in contact with a sacred head, he may not touch food with them or engage in any other employment; he is fed by another person with food cooked over a sacred fire. he cannot be released from the taboo before the following day, when he rubs his hands with potato or fern root which has been cooked on a sacred fire; and this food having been taken to the head of the family in the female line and eaten by her, his hands are freed from the taboo. in some parts of new zealand the most sacred day of the year was that appointed for hair-cutting; the people assembled in large numbers on that day from all the neighbourhood. . disposal of cut hair and nails but even when the hair and nails have been safely cut, there remains the difficulty of disposing of them, for their owner believes himself liable to suffer from any harm that may befall them. the notion that a man may be bewitched by means of the clippings of his hair, the parings of his nails, or any other severed portion of his person is almost world-wide, and attested by evidence too ample, too familiar, and too tedious in its uniformity to be here analysed at length. the general idea on which the superstition rests is that of the sympathetic connexion supposed to persist between a person and everything that has once been part of his body or in any way closely related to him. a very few examples must suffice. they belong to that branch of sympathetic magic which may be called contagious. dread of sorcery, we are told, formed one of the most salient characteristics of the marquesan islanders in the old days. the sorcerer took some of the hair, spittle, or other bodily refuse of the man he wished to injure, wrapped it up in a leaf, and placed the packet in a bag woven of threads or fibres, which were knotted in an intricate way. the whole was then buried with certain rites, and thereupon the victim wasted away of a languishing sickness which lasted twenty days. his life, however, might be saved by discovering and digging up the buried hair, spittle, or what not; for as soon as this was done the power of the charm ceased. a maori sorcerer intent on bewitching somebody sought to get a tress of his victim's hair, the parings of his nails, some of his spittle, or a shred of his garment. having obtained the object, whatever it was, he chanted certain spells and curses over it in a falsetto voice and buried it in the ground. as the thing decayed, the person to whom it had belonged was supposed to waste away. when an australian blackfellow wishes to get rid of his wife, he cuts off a lock of her hair in her sleep, ties it to his spear-thrower, and goes with it to a neighbouring tribe, where he gives it to a friend. his friend sticks the spear-thrower up every night before the camp fire, and when it falls down it is a sign that the wife is dead. the way in which the charm operates was explained to dr. howitt by a wirajuri man. "you see," he said, "when a blackfellow doctor gets hold of something belonging to a man and roasts it with things, and sings over it, the fire catches hold of the smell of the man, and that settles the poor fellow." the huzuls of the carpathians imagine that if mice get a person's shorn hair and make a nest of it, the person will suffer from headache or even become idiotic. similarly in germany it is a common notion that if birds find a person's cut hair, and build their nests with it, the person will suffer from headache; sometimes it is thought that he will have an eruption on the head. the same superstition prevails, or used to prevail, in west sussex. again it is thought that cut or combed-out hair may disturb the weather by producing rain and hail, thunder and lightning. we have seen that in new zealand a spell was uttered at hair-cutting to avert thunder and lightning. in the tyrol, witches are supposed to use cut or combed-out hair to make hailstones or thunderstorms with. thlinkeet indians have been known to attribute stormy weather to the rash act of a girl who had combed her hair outside of the house. the romans seem to have held similar views, for it was a maxim with them that no one on shipboard should cut his hair or nails except in a storm, that is, when the mischief was already done. in the highlands of scotland it is said that no sister should comb her hair at night if she have a brother at sea. in west africa, when the mani of chitombe or jumba died, the people used to run in crowds to the corpse and tear out his hair, teeth, and nails, which they kept as a rain-charm, believing that otherwise no rain would fall. the makoko of the anzikos begged the missionaries to give him half their beards as a rain-charm. if cut hair and nails remain in sympathetic connexion with the person from whose body they have been severed, it is clear that they can be used as hostages for his good behaviour by any one who may chance to possess them; for on the principles of contagious magic he has only to injure the hair or nails in order to hurt simultaneously their original owner. hence when the nandi have taken a prisoner they shave his head and keep the shorn hair as a surety that he will not attempt to escape; but when the captive is ransomed, they return his shorn hair with him to his own people. to preserve the cut hair and nails from injury and from the dangerous uses to which they may be put by sorcerers, it is necessary to deposit them in some safe place. the shorn locks of a maori chief were gathered with much care and placed in an adjoining cemetery. the tahitians buried the cuttings of their hair at the temples. in the streets of soku a modern traveller observed cairns of large stones piled against walls with tufts of human hair inserted in the crevices. on asking the meaning of this, he was told that when any native of the place polled his hair he carefully gathered up the clippings and deposited them in one of these cairns, all of which were sacred to the fetish and therefore inviolable. these cairns of sacred stones, he further learned, were simply a precaution against witchcraft, for if a man were not thus careful in disposing of his hair, some of it might fall into the hands of his enemies, who would, by means of it, be able to cast spells over him and so compass his destruction. when the top-knot of a siamese child has been cut with great ceremony, the short hairs are put into a little vessel made of plantain leaves and set adrift on the nearest river or canal. as they float away, all that was wrong or harmful in the child's disposition is believed to depart with them. the long hairs are kept till the child makes a pilgrimage to the holy footprint of buddha on the sacred hill at prabat. they are then presented to the priests, who are supposed to make them into brushes with which they sweep the footprint; but in fact so much hair is thus offered every year that the priests cannot use it all, so they quietly burn the superfluity as soon as the pilgrims' backs are turned. the cut hair and nails of the flamen dialis were buried under a lucky tree. the shorn tresses of the vestal virgins were hung on an ancient lotus-tree. often the clipped hair and nails are stowed away in any secret place, not necessarily in a temple or cemetery or at a tree, as in the cases already mentioned. thus in swabia you are recommended to deposit your clipped hair in some spot where neither sun nor moon can shine on it, for example in the earth or under a stone. in danzig it is buried in a bag under the threshold. in ugi, one of the solomon islands, men bury their hair lest it should fall into the hands of an enemy, who would make magic with it and so bring sickness or calamity on them. the same fear seems to be general in melanesia, and has led to a regular practice of hiding cut hair and nails. the same practice prevails among many tribes of south africa, from a fear lest wizards should get hold of the severed particles and work evil with them. the caffres carry still further this dread of allowing any portion of themselves to fall into the hands of an enemy; for not only do they bury their cut hair and nails in a secret spot, but when one of them cleans the head of another he preserves the vermin which he catches, "carefully delivering them to the person to whom they originally appertained, supposing, according to their theory, that as they derived their support from the blood of the man from whom they were taken, should they be killed by another, the blood of his neighbour would be in his possession, thus placing in his hands the power of some superhuman influence." sometimes the severed hair and nails are preserved, not to prevent them from falling into the hands of a magician, but that the owner may have them at the resurrection of the body, to which some races look forward. thus the incas of peru "took extreme care to preserve the nail-parings and the hairs that were shorn off or torn out with a comb; placing them in holes or niches in the walls; and if they fell out, any other indian that saw them picked them up and put them in their places again. i very often asked different indians, at various times, why they did this, in order to see what they would say, and they all replied in the same words saying, 'know that all persons who are born must return to life' (they have no word to express resurrection), 'and the souls must rise out of their tombs with all that belonged to their bodies. we, therefore, in order that we may not have to search for our hair and nails at a time when there will be much hurry and confusion, place them in one place, that they may be brought together more conveniently, and, whenever it is possible, we are also careful to spit in one place.'" similarly the turks never throw away the parings of their nails, but carefully stow them in cracks of the walls or of the boards, in the belief that they will be needed at the resurrection. the armenians do not throw away their cut hair and nails and extracted teeth, but hide them in places that are esteemed holy, such as a crack in the church wall, a pillar of the house, or a hollow tree. they think that all these severed portions of themselves will be wanted at the resurrection, and that he who has not stowed them away in a safe place will have to hunt about for them on the great day. in the village of drumconrath in ireland there used to be some old women who, having ascertained from scripture that the hairs of their heads were all numbered by the almighty, expected to have to account for them at the day of judgment. in order to be able to do so they stuffed the severed hair away in the thatch of their cottages. some people burn their loose hair to save it from falling into the hands of sorcerers. this is done by the patagonians and some of the victorian tribes. in the upper vosges they say that you should never leave the clippings of your hair and nails lying about, but burn them to hinder the sorcerers from using them against you. for the same reason italian women either burn their loose hairs or throw them into a place where no one is likely to look for them. the almost universal dread of witchcraft induces the west african negroes, the makololo of south africa, and the tahitians to burn or bury their shorn hair. in the tyrol many people burn their hair lest the witches should use it to raise thunderstorms; others burn or bury it to prevent the birds from lining their nests with it, which would cause the heads from which the hair came to ache. this destruction of the hair and nails plainly involves an inconsistency of thought. the object of the destruction is avowedly to prevent these severed portions of the body from being used by sorcerers. but the possibility of their being so used depends upon the supposed sympathetic connexion between them and the man from whom they were severed. and if this sympathetic connexion still exists, clearly these severed portions cannot be destroyed without injury to the man. . spittle tabooed the same fear of witchcraft which has led so many people to hide or destroy their loose hair and nails has induced other or the same people to treat their spittle in a like fashion. for on the principles of sympathetic magic the spittle is part of the man, and whatever is done to it will have a corresponding effect on him. a chilote indian, who has gathered up the spittle of an enemy, will put it in a potato, and hang the potato in the smoke, uttering certain spells as he does so in the belief that his foe will waste away as the potato dries in the smoke. or he will put the spittle in a frog and throw the animal into an inaccessible, unnavigable river, which will make the victim quake and shake with ague. the natives of urewera, a district of new zealand, enjoyed a high reputation for their skill in magic. it was said that they made use of people's spittle to bewitch them. hence visitors were careful to conceal their spittle, lest they should furnish these wizards with a handle for working them harm. similarly among some tribes of south africa no man will spit when an enemy is near, lest his foe should find the spittle and give it to a wizard, who would then mix it with magical ingredients so as to injure the person from whom it fell. even in a man's own house his saliva is carefully swept away and obliterated for a similar reason. if common folk are thus cautious, it is natural that kings and chiefs should be doubly so. in the sandwich islands chiefs were attended by a confidential servant bearing a portable spittoon, and the deposit was carefully buried every morning to put it out of the reach of sorcerers. on the slave coast, for the same reason, whenever a king or chief expectorates, the saliva is scrupulously gathered up and hidden or buried. the same precautions are taken for the same reason with the spittle of the chief of tabali in southern nigeria. the magical use to which spittle may be put marks it out, like blood or nail-parings, as a suitable material basis for a covenant, since by exchanging their saliva the covenanting parties give each other a guarantee of good faith. if either of them afterwards foreswears himself, the other can punish his perfidy by a magical treatment of the purjurer's spittle which he has in his custody. thus when the wajagga of east africa desire to make a covenant, the two parties will sometimes sit down with a bowl of milk or beer between them, and after uttering an incantation over the beverage they each take a mouthful of the milk or beer and spit it into the other's mouth. in urgent cases, when there is no time to spend on ceremony, the two will simply spit into each other's mouth, which seals the covenant just as well. . foods tabooed as might have been expected, the superstitions of the savage cluster thick about the subject of food; and he abstains from eating many animals and plants, wholesome enough in themselves, which for one reason or another he fancies would prove dangerous or fatal to the eater. examples of such abstinence are too familiar and far too numerous to quote. but if the ordinary man is thus deterred by superstitious fear from partaking of various foods, the restraints of this kind which are laid upon sacred or tabooed persons, such as kings and priests, are still more numerous and stringent. we have already seen that the flamen dialis was forbidden to eat or even name several plants and animals, and that the flesh diet of egyptian kings was restricted to veal and goose. in antiquity many priests and many kings of barbarous peoples abstained wholly from a flesh diet. the _gangas_ or fetish priests of the loango coast are forbidden to eat or even see a variety of animals and fish, in consequence of which their flesh diet is extremely limited; often they live only on herbs and roots, though they may drink fresh blood. the heir to the throne of loango is forbidden from infancy to eat pork; from early childhood he is interdicted the use of the _cola_ fruit in company; at puberty he is taught by a priest not to partake of fowls except such as he has himself killed and cooked; and so the number of taboos goes on increasing with his years. in fernando po the king after installation is forbidden to eat cocco (_arum acaule_), deer, and porcupine, which are the ordinary foods of the people. the head chief of the masai may eat nothing but milk, honey, and the roasted livers of goats; for if he partook of any other food he would lose his power of soothsaying and of compounding charms. . knots and rings tabooed we have seen that among the many taboos which the flamen dialis at rome had to observe, there was one that forbade him to have a knot on any part of his garments, and another that obliged him to wear no ring unless it were broken. in like manner moslem pilgrims to mecca are in a state of sanctity or taboo and may wear on their persons neither knots nor rings. these rules are probably of kindred significance, and may conveniently be considered together. to begin with knots, many people in different parts of the world entertain a strong objection to having any knot about their person at certain critical seasons, particularly childbirth, marriage, and death. thus among the saxons of transylvania, when a woman is in travail all knots on her garments are untied, because it is believed that this will facilitate her delivery, and with the same intention all the locks in the house, whether on doors or boxes, are unlocked. the lapps think that a lying-in woman should have no knot on her garments, because a knot would have the effect of making the delivery difficult and painful. in the east indies this superstition is extended to the whole time of pregnancy; the people believe that if a pregnant woman were to tie knots, or braid, or make anything fast, the child would thereby be constricted or the woman would herself be "tied up" when her time came. nay, some of them enforce the observance of the rule on the father as well as the mother of the unborn child. among the sea dyaks neither of the parents may bind up anything with a string or make anything fast during the wife's pregnancy. in the toumbuluh tribe of north celebes a ceremony is performed in the fourth or fifth month of a woman's pregnancy, and after it her husband is forbidden, among many other things, to tie any fast knots and to sit with his legs crossed over each other. in all these cases the idea seems to be that the tying of a knot would, as they say in the east indies, "tie up" the woman, in other words, impede and perhaps prevent her delivery, or delay her convalescence after the birth. on the principles of homoeopathic or imitative magic the physical obstacle or impediment of a knot on a cord would create a corresponding obstacle or impediment in the body of the woman. that this is really the explanation of the rule appears from a custom observed by the hos of west africa at a difficult birth. when a woman is in hard labour and cannot bring forth, they call in a magician to her aid. he looks at her and says, "the child is bound in the womb, that is why she cannot be delivered." on the entreaties of her female relations he then promises to loosen the bond so that she may bring forth. for that purpose he orders them to fetch a tough creeper from the forest, and with it he binds the hands and feet of the sufferer on her back. then he takes a knife and calls out the woman's name, and when she answers he cuts through the creeper with a knife, saying, "i cut through to-day thy bonds and thy child's bonds." after that he chops up the creeper small, puts the bits in a vessel of water, and bathes the woman with the water. here the cutting of the creeper with which the woman's hands and feet are bound is a simple piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic: by releasing her limbs from their bonds the magician imagines that he simultaneously releases the child in her womb from the trammels which impede its birth. the same train of thought underlies a practice observed by some peoples of opening all locks, doors, and so on, while a birth is taking place in the house. we have seen that at such a time the germans of transylvania open all the locks, and the same thing is done also in voigtland and mecklenburg. in north-western argyllshire superstitious people used to open every lock in the house at childbirth. in the island of salsette near bombay, when a woman is in hard labour, all locks of doors or drawers are opened with a key to facilitate her delivery. among the mandelings of sumatra the lids of all chests, boxes, pans, and so forth are opened; and if this does not produce the desired effect, the anxious husband has to strike the projecting ends of some of the house-beams in order to loosen them; for they think that "everything must be open and loose to facilitate the delivery." in chittagong, when a woman cannot bring her child to the birth, the midwife gives orders to throw all doors and windows wide open, to uncork all bottles, to remove the bungs from all casks, to unloose the cows in the stall, the horses in the stable, the watchdog in his kennel, to set free sheep, fowls, ducks, and so forth. this universal liberty accorded to the animals and even to inanimate things is, according to the people, an infallible means of ensuring the woman's delivery and allowing the babe to be born. in the island of saghalien, when a woman is in labour, her husband undoes everything that can be undone. he loosens the plaits of his hair and the laces of his shoes. then he unties whatever is tied in the house or its vicinity. in the courtyard he takes the axe out of the log in which it is stuck; he unfastens the boat, if it is moored to a tree, he withdraws the cartridges from his gun, and the arrows from his crossbow. again, we have seen that a toumbuluh man abstains not only from tying knots, but also from sitting with crossed legs during his wife's pregnancy. the train of thought is the same in both cases. whether you cross threads in tying a knot, or only cross your legs in sitting at your ease, you are equally, on the principles of homoeopathic magic, crossing or thwarting the free course of things, and your action cannot but check and impede whatever may be going forward in your neighbourhood. of this important truth the romans were fully aware. to sit beside a pregnant woman or a patient under medical treatment with clasped hands, says the grave pliny, is to cast a malignant spell over the person, and it is worse still if you nurse your leg or legs with your clasped hands, or lay one leg over the other. such postures were regarded by the old romans as a let and hindrance to business of every sort, and at a council of war or a meeting of magistrates, at prayers and sacrifices, no man was suffered to cross his legs or clasp his hands. the stock instance of the dreadful consequences that might flow from doing one or the other was that of alcmena, who travailed with hercules for seven days and seven nights, because the goddess lucina sat in front of the house with clasped hands and crossed legs, and the child could not be born until the goddess had been beguiled into changing her attitude. it is a bulgarian superstition that if a pregnant woman is in the habit of sitting with crossed legs, she will suffer much in childbed. in some parts of bavaria, when conversation comes to a standstill and silence ensues, they say, "surely somebody has crossed his legs." the magical effect of knots in trammelling and obstructing human activity was believed to be manifested at marriage not less than at birth. during the middle ages, and down to the eighteenth century, it seems to have been commonly held in europe that the consummation of marriage could be prevented by any one who, while the wedding ceremony was taking place, either locked a lock or tied a knot in a cord, and then threw the lock or the cord away. the lock or the knotted cord had to be flung into water; and until it had been found and unlocked, or untied, no real union of the married pair was possible. hence it was a grave offence, not only to cast such a spell, but also to steal or make away with the material instrument of it, whether lock or knotted cord. in the year the parliament of bordeaux sentenced some one to be burned alive for having spread desolation through a whole family by means of knotted cords; and in two persons were condemned to death in scotland for stealing certain charmed knots which a woman had made, in order thereby to mar the wedded happiness of spalding of ashintilly. the belief in the efficacy of these charms appears to have lingered in the highlands of pertshire down to the end of the eighteenth century, for at that time it was still customary in the beautiful parish of logierait, between the river tummel and the river tay, to unloose carefully every knot in the clothes of the bride and bridegroom before the celebration of the marriage ceremony. we meet with the same superstition and the same custom at the present day in syria. the persons who help a syrian bridegroom to don his wedding garments take care that no knot is tied on them and no button buttoned, for they believe that a button buttoned or a knot tied would put it within the power of his enemies to deprive him of his nuptial rights by magical means. the fear of such charms is diffused all over north africa at the present day. to render a bridegroom impotent the enchanter has only to tie a knot in a handkerchief which he had previously placed quietly on some part of the bridegroom's body when he was mounted on horseback ready to fetch his bride: so long as the knot in the handkerchief remains tied, so long will the bridegroom remain powerless to consummate the marriage. the maleficent power of knots may also be manifested in the infliction of sickness, disease, and all kinds of misfortune. thus among the hos of west africa a sorcerer will sometimes curse his enemy and tie a knot in a stalk of grass, saying, "i have tied up so-and-so in this knot. may all evil light upon him! when he goes into the field, may a snake sting him! when he goes to the chase, may a ravening beast attack him! and when he steps into a river, may the water sweep him away! when it rains, may the lightning strike him! may evil nights be his!" it is believed that in the knot the sorcerer has bound up the life of his enemy. in the koran there is an allusion to the mischief of "those who puff into the knots," and an arab commentator on the passage explains that the words refer to women who practise magic by tying knots in cords, and then blowing and spitting upon them. he goes on to relate how, once upon a time, a wicked jew bewitched the prophet mohammed himself by tying nine knots on a string, which he then hid in a well. so the prophet fell ill, and nobody knows what might have happened if the archangel gabriel had not opportunely revealed to the holy man the place where the knotted cord was concealed. the trusty ali soon fetched the baleful thing from the well; and the prophet recited over it certain charms, which were specially revealed to him for the purpose. at every verse of the charms a knot untied itself, and the prophet experienced a certain relief. if knots are supposed to kill, they are also supposed to cure. this follows from the belief that to undo the knots which are causing sickness will bring the sufferer relief. but apart from this negative virtue of maleficent knots, there are certain beneficent knots to which a positive power of healing is ascribed. pliny tells us that some folk cured diseases of the groin by taking a thread from a web, tying seven or nine knots on it, and then fastening it to the patient's groin; but to make the cure effectual it was necessary to name some widow as each knot was tied. o'donovan describes a remedy for fever employed among the turcomans. the enchanter takes some camel hair and spins it into a stout thread, droning a spell the while. next he ties seven knots on the thread, blowing on each knot before he pulls it tight. this knotted thread is then worn as a bracelet on his wrist by the patient. every day one of the knots is untied and blown upon, and when the seventh knot is undone the whole thread is rolled up into a ball and thrown into a river, bearing away (as they imagine) the fever with it. again knots may be used by an enchantress to win a lover and attach him firmly to herself. thus the love-sick maid in virgil seeks to draw daphnis to her from the city by spells and by tying three knots on each of three strings of different colours. so an arab maiden, who had lost her heart to a certain man, tried to gain his love and bind him to herself by tying knots in his whip; but her jealous rival undid the knots. on the same principle magic knots may be employed to stop a runaway. in swazieland you may often see grass tied in knots at the side of the footpaths. every one of these knots tells of a domestic tragedy. a wife has run away from her husband, and he and his friends have gone in pursuit, binding up the paths, as they call it, in this fashion to prevent the fugitive from doubling back over them. a net, from its affluence of knots, has always been considered in russia very efficacious against sorcerers; hence in some places, when a bride is being dressed in her wedding attire, a fishing-net is flung over her to keep her out of harm's way. for a similar purpose the bridegroom and his companions are often girt with pieces of net, or at least with tight-drawn girdles, for before a wizard can begin to injure them he must undo all the knots in the net, or take off the girdles. but often a russian amulet is merely a knotted thread. a skein of red wool wound about the arms and legs is thought to ward off agues and fevers; and nine skeins, fastened round a child's neck, are deemed a preservative against scarlatina. in the tver government a bag of a special kind is tied to the neck of the cow which walks before the rest of a herd, in order to keep off wolves; its force binds the maw of the ravening beast. on the same principle, a padlock is carried thrice round a herd of horses before they go afield in the spring, and the bearer locks and unlocks it as he goes, saying, "i lock from my herd the mouths of the grey wolves with this steel lock." knots and locks may serve to avert not only wizards and wolves but death itself. when they brought a woman to the stake at st. andrews in to burn her alive for a witch, they found on her a white cloth like a collar, with strings and many knots on the strings. they took it from her, sorely against her will, for she seemed to think that she could not die in the fire, if only the cloth with the knotted strings was on her. when it was taken away, she said, "now i have no hope of myself." in many parts of england it is thought that a person cannot die so long as any locks are locked or bolts shot in the house. it is therefore a very common practice to undo all locks and bolts when the sufferer is plainly near his end, in order that his agony may not be unduly prolonged. for example, in the year , at taunton, a child lay sick of scarlatina and death seemed inevitable. "a jury of matrons was, as it were, empanelled, and to prevent the child 'dying hard' all the doors in the house, all the drawers, all the boxes, all the cupboards were thrown wide open, the keys taken out, and the body of the child placed under a beam, whereby a sure, certain, and easy passage into eternity could be secured." strange to say, the child declined to avail itself of the facilities for dying so obligingly placed at its disposal by the sagacity and experience of the british matrons of taunton; it preferred to live rather than give up the ghost just then. the rule which prescribes that at certain magical and religious ceremonies the hair should hang loose and the feet should be bare is probably based on the same fear of trammelling and impeding the action in hand, whatever it may be, by the presence of any knot or constriction, whether on the head or on the feet of the performer. a similar power to bind and hamper spiritual as well as bodily activities is ascribed by some people to rings. thus in the island of carpathus people never button the clothes they put upon a dead body and they are careful to remove all rings from it; "for the spirit, they say, can even be detained in the little finger, and cannot rest." here it is plain that even if the soul is not definitely supposed to issue at death from the finger-tips, yet the ring is conceived to exercise a certain constrictive influence which detains and imprisons the immortal spirit in spite of its efforts to escape from the tabernacle of clay; in short the ring, like the knot, acts as a spiritual fetter. this may have been the reason of an ancient greek maxim, attributed to pythagoras, which forbade people to wear rings. nobody might enter the ancient arcadian sanctuary of the mistress at lycosura with a ring on his or her finger. persons who consulted the oracle of faunus had to be chaste, to eat no flesh, and to wear no rings. on the other hand, the same constriction which hinders the egress of the soul may prevent the entrance of evil spirits; hence we find rings used as amulets against demons, witches, and ghosts. in the tyrol it is said that a woman in childbed should never take off her wedding-ring, or spirits and witches will have power over her. among the lapps, the person who is about to place a corpse in the coffin receives from the husband, wife, or children of the deceased a brass ring, which he must wear fastened to his right arm until the corpse is safely deposited in the grave. the ring is believed to serve the person as an amulet against any harm which the ghost might do to him. how far the custom of wearing finger-rings may have been influenced by, or even have sprung from, a belief in their efficacy as amulets to keep the soul in the body, or demons out of it, is a question which seems worth considering. here we are only concerned with the belief in so far as it seems to throw light on the rule that the flamen dialis might not wear a ring unless it were broken. taken in conjunction with the rule which forbade him to have a knot on his garments, it points to a fear that the powerful spirit embodied in him might be trammelled and hampered in its goings-out and comings-in by such corporeal and spiritual fetters as rings and knots. xxii. tabooed words . personal names tabooed unable to discriminate clearly between words and things, the savage commonly fancies that the link between a name and the person or thing denominated by it is not a mere arbitrary and ideal association, but a real and substantial bond which unites the two in such a way that magic may be wrought on a man just as easily through his name as through his hair, his nails, or any other material part of his person. in fact, primitive man regards his name as a vital portion of himself and takes care of it accordingly. thus, for example, the north american indian "regards his name, not as a mere label, but as a distinct part of his personality, just as much as are his eyes or his teeth, and believes that injury will result as surely from the malicious handling of his name as from a wound inflicted on any part of his physical organism. this belief was found among the various tribes from the atlantic to the pacific, and has occasioned a number of curious regulations in regard to the concealment and change of names." some esquimaux take new names when they are old, hoping thereby to get a new lease of life. the tolampoos of celebes believe that if you write a man's name down you can carry off his soul along with it. many savages at the present day regard their names as vital parts of themselves, and therefore take great pains to conceal their real names, lest these should give to evil-disposed persons a handle by which to injure their owners. thus, to begin with the savages who rank at the bottom of the social scale, we are told that the secrecy with which among the australian aborigines personal names are often kept from general knowledge "arises in great measure from the belief that an enemy, who knows your name, has in it something which he can use magically to your detriment." "an australian black," says another writer, "is always very unwilling to tell his real name, and there is no doubt that this reluctance is due to the fear that through his name he may be injured by sorcerers." amongst the tribes of central australia every man, woman, and child has, besides a personal name which is in common use, a secret or sacred name which is bestowed by the older men upon him or her soon after birth, and which is known to none but the fully initiated members of the group. this secret name is never mentioned except upon the most solemn occasions; to utter it in the hearing of women or of men of another group would be a most serious breach of tribal custom, as serious as the most flagrant case of sacrilege among ourselves. when mentioned at all, the name is spoken only in a whisper, and not until the most elaborate precautions have been taken that it shall be heard by no one but members of the group. "the native thinks that a stranger knowing his secret name would have special power to work him ill by means of magic." the same fear seems to have led to a custom of the same sort amongst the ancient egyptians, whose comparatively high civilisation was strangely dashed and chequered with relics of the lowest savagery. every egyptian received two names, which were known respectively as the true name and the good name, or the great name and the little name; and while the good or little name was made public, the true or great name appears to have been carefully concealed. a brahman child receives two names, one for common use, the other a secret name which none but his father and mother should know. the latter is only used at ceremonies such as marriage. the custom is intended to protect the person against magic, since a charm only becomes effectual in combination with the real name. similarly, the natives of nias believe that harm may be done to a person by the demons who hear his name pronounced. hence the names of infants, who are especially exposed to the assaults of evil sprits, are never spoken; and often in haunted spots, such as the gloomy depths of the forest, the banks of a river, or beside a bubbling spring, men will abstain from calling each other by their names for a like reason. the indians of chiloe keep their names secret and do not like to have them uttered aloud; for they say that there are fairies or imps on the mainland or neighbouring islands who, if they knew folk's names, would do them an injury; but so long as they do not know the names, these mischievous sprites are powerless. the araucanians will hardly ever tell a stranger their names because they fear that he would thereby acquire some supernatural power over themselves. asked his name by a stranger, who is ignorant of their superstitions, an araucanian will answer, "i have none." when an ojebway is asked his name, he will look at some bystander and ask him to answer. "this reluctance arises from an impression they receive when young, that if they repeat their own names it will prevent their growth, and they will be small in stature. on account of this unwillingness to tell their names, many strangers have fancied that they either have no names or have forgotten them." in this last case no scruple seems to be felt about communicating a man's name to strangers, and no ill effects appear to be dreaded as a consequence of divulging it; harm is only done when a name is spoken by its owner. why is this? and why in particular should a man be thought to stunt his growth by uttering his own name? we may conjecture that to savages who act and think thus a person's name only seems to be a part of himself when it is uttered with his own breath; uttered by the breath of others it has no vital connexion with him, and no harm can come to him through it. whereas, so these primitive philosophers may have argued, when a man lets his own name pass his lips, he is parting with a living piece of himself, and if he persists in so reckless a course he must certainly end by dissipating his energy and shattering his constitution. many a broken-down debauchee, many a feeble frame wasted with disease, may have been pointed out by these simple moralists to their awe-struck disciples as a fearful example of the fate that must sooner or later overtake the profligate who indulges immoderately in the seductive habit of mentioning his own name. however we may explain it, the fact is certain that many a savage evinces the strongest reluctance to pronounce his own name, while at the same time he makes no objection at all to other people pronouncing it, and will even invite them to do so for him in order to satisfy the curiosity of an inquisitive stranger. thus in some parts of madagascar it is taboo for a person to tell his own name, but a slave or attendant will answer for him. the same curious inconsistency, as it may seem to us, is recorded of some tribes of american indians. thus we are told that "the name of an american indian is a sacred thing, not to be divulged by the owner himself without due consideration. one may ask a warrior of any tribe to give his name, and the question will be met with either a point-blank refusal or the more diplomatic evasion that he cannot understand what is wanted of him. the moment a friend approaches, the warrior first interrogated will whisper what is wanted, and the friend can tell the name, receiving a reciprocation of the courtesy from the other." this general statement applies, for example, to the indian tribes of british columbia, as to whom it is said that "one of their strangest prejudices, which appears to pervade all tribes alike, is a dislike to telling their names--thus you never get a man's right name from himself; but they will tell each other's names without hesitation." in the whole of the east indian archipelago the etiquette is the same. as a general rule no one will utter his own name. to enquire, "what is your name?" is a very indelicate question in native society. when in the course of administrative or judicial business a native is asked his name, instead of replying he will look at his comrade to indicate that he is to answer for him, or he will say straight out, "ask him." the superstition is current all over the east indies without exception, and it is found also among the motu and motumotu tribes, the papuans of finsch haven in north new guinea, the nufoors of dutch new guinea, and the melanesians of the bismarck archipelago. among many tribes of south africa men and women never mention their names if they can get any one else to do it for them, but they do not absolutely refuse when it cannot be avoided. sometimes the embargo laid on personal names is not permanent; it is conditional on circumstances, and when these change it ceases to operate. thus when the nandi men are away on a foray, nobody at home may pronounce the names of the absent warriors; they must be referred to as birds. should a child so far forget itself as to mention one of the distant ones by name, the mother would rebuke it, saying, "don't talk of the birds who are in the heavens." among the bangala of the upper congo, while a man is fishing and when he returns with his catch, his proper name is in abeyance and nobody may mention it. whatever the fisherman's real name may be, he is called _mwele_ without distinction. the reason is that the river is full of spirits, who, if they heard the fisherman's real name, might so work against him that he would catch little or nothing. even when he has caught his fish and landed with them, the buyer must still not address him by his proper name, but must only call him _mwele;_ for even then, if the spirits were to hear his proper name, they would either bear it in mind and serve him out another day, or they might so mar the fish he had caught that he would get very little for them. hence the fisherman can extract heavy damages from anybody who mentions his name, or can compel the thoughtless speaker to relieve him of the fish at a good price so as to restore his luck. when the sulka of new britain are near the territory of their enemies the gaktei, they take care not to mention them by their proper name, believing that were they to do so, their foes would attack and slay them. hence in these circumstances they speak of the gaktei as _o lapsiek,_ that is, "the rotten tree-trunks," and they imagine that by calling them that they make the limbs of their dreaded enemies ponderous and clumsy like logs. this example illustrates the extremely materialistic view which these savages take of the nature of words; they suppose that the mere utterance of an expression signifying clumsiness will homoeopathically affect with clumsiness the limbs of their distant foemen. another illustration of this curious misconception is furnished by a caffre superstition that the character of a young thief can be reformed by shouting his name over a boiling kettle of medicated water, then clapping a lid on the kettle and leaving the name to steep in the water for several days. it is not in the least necessary that the thief should be aware of the use that is being made of his name behind his back; the moral reformation will be effected without his knowledge. when it is deemed necessary that a man's real name should be kept secret, it is often customary, as we have seen, to call him by a surname or nickname. as distinguished from the real or primary names, these secondary names are apparently held to be no part of the man himself, so that they may be freely used and divulged to everybody without endangering his safety thereby. sometimes in order to avoid the use of his own name a man will be called after his child. thus we are informed that "the gippsland blacks objected strongly to let any one outside the tribe know their names, lest their enemies, learning them, should make them vehicles of incantation, and so charm their lives away. as children were not thought to have enemies, they used to speak of a man as 'the father, uncle, or cousin of so-and-so,' naming a child; but on all occasions abstained from mentioning the name of a grown-up person." the alfoors of poso in celebes will not pronounce their own names. among them, accordingly, if you wish to ascertain a person's name, you ought not to ask the man himself, but should enquire of others. but if this is impossible, for example, when there is no one else near, you should ask him his child's name, and then address him as the "father of so-and-so." nay, these alfoors are shy of uttering the names even of children; so when a boy or girl has a nephew or niece, he or she is addressed as "uncle of so-and-so," or "aunt of so-and-so." in pure malay society, we are told, a man is never asked his name, and the custom of naming parents after their children is adopted only as a means of avoiding the use of the parents' own names. the writer who makes this statement adds in confirmation of it that childless persons are named after their younger brothers. among the land dyaks children as they grow up are called, according to their sex, the father or mother of a child of their father's or mother's younger brother or sister, that is, they are called the father or mother of what we should call their first cousin. the caffres used to think it discourteous to call a bride by her own name, so they would call her "the mother of so-and-so," even when she was only betrothed, far less a wife and a mother. among the kukis and zemis or kacha nagas of assam parents drop their names after the birth of a child and are named father and mother of so-and-so. childless couples go by the name of "the childless father," "the childless mother," "the father of no child," "the mother of no child." the widespread custom of naming a father after his child has sometimes been supposed to spring from a desire on the father's part to assert his paternity, apparently as a means of obtaining those rights over his children which had previously, under a system of mother-kin, been possessed by the mother. but this explanation does not account for the parallel custom of naming the mother after her child, which seems commonly to co-exist with the practice of naming the father after the child. still less, if possible, does it apply to the customs of calling childless couples the father and mother of children which do not exist, of naming people after their younger brothers, and of designating children as the uncles and aunts of so-and-so, or as the fathers and mothers of their first cousins. but all these practices are explained in a simple and natural way if we suppose that they originate in a reluctance to utter the real names of persons addressed or directly referred to. that reluctance is probably based partly on a fear of attracting the notice of evil spirits, partly on a dread of revealing the name to sorcerers, who would thereby obtain a handle for injuring the owner of the name. . names of relations tabooed it might naturally be expected that the reserve so commonly maintained with regard to personal names would be dropped or at least relaxed among relations and friends. but the reverse of this is often the case. it is precisely the persons most intimately connected by blood and especially by marriage to whom the rule applies with the greatest stringency. such people are often forbidden, not only to pronounce each other's names, but even to utter ordinary words which resemble or have a single syllable in common with these names. the persons who are thus mutually debarred from mentioning each other's names are especially husbands and wives, a man and his wife's parents, and a woman and her husband's father. for example, among the caffres a woman may not publicly pronounce the birth-name of her husband or of any of his brothers, nor may she use the interdicted word in its ordinary sense. if her husband, for instance, be called u-mpaka, from _impaka,_ a small feline animal, she must speak of that beast by some other name. further, a caffre wife is forbidden to pronounce even mentally the names of her father-in-law and of all her husband's male relations in the ascending line; and whenever the emphatic syllable of any of their names occurs in another word, she must avoid it by substituting either an entirely new word, or, at least, another syllable in its place. hence this custom has given rise to an almost distinct language among the women, which the caffres call "women's speech." the interpretation of this "women's speech" is naturally very difficult, "for no definite rules can be given for the formation of these substituted words, nor is it possible to form a dictionary of them, their number being so great--since there may be many women, even in the same tribe, who would be no more at liberty to use the substitutes employed by some others, than they are to use the original words themselves." a caffre man, on his side, may not mention the name of his mother-in-law, nor may she pronounce his; but he is free to utter words in which the emphatic syllable of her name occurs. a kirghiz woman dares not pronounce the names of the older relations of her husband, nor even use words which resemble them in sound. for example, if one of these relations is called shepherd, she may not speak of sheep, but must call them "the bleating ones"; if his name is lamb, she must refer to lambs as "the young bleating ones." in southern india wives believe that to tell their husband's name or to pronounce it even in a dream would bring him to an untimely end. among the sea dyaks a man may not pronounce the name of his father-in-law or mother-in-law without incurring the wrath of the spirits. and since he reckons as his father-in-law and mother-in-law not only the father and mother of his own wife, but also the fathers and mothers of his brothers' wives and sisters' husbands, and likewise the fathers and mothers of all his cousins, the number of tabooed names may be very considerable and the opportunities of error correspondingly numerous. to make confusion worse confounded, the names of persons are often the names of common things, such as moon, bridge, barley, cobra, leopard; so that when any of a man's many fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law are called by such names, these common words may not pass his lips. among the alfoors of minahassa, in celebes, the custom is carried still further so as to forbid the use even of words which merely resemble the personal names in sound. it is especially the name of a father-in-law which is thus laid under an interdict. if he, for example, is called kalala, his son-in-law may not speak of a horse by its common name _kawalo;_ he must call it a "riding-beast" (_sasakajan_). so among the alfoors of the island of buru it is taboo to mention the names of parents and parents-in-law, or even to speak of common objects by words which resemble these names in sound. thus, if your mother-in-law is called dalu, which means "betel," you may not ask for betel by its ordinary name, you must ask for "red mouth"; if you want betel-leaf, you may not say betel-leaf (_dalu 'mun_), you must say _karon fenna._ in the same island it is also taboo to mention the name of an elder brother in his presence. transgressions of these rules are punished with fines. in sunda it is thought that a particular crop would be spoilt if a man were to mention the names of his father and mother. among the nufoors of dutch new guinea persons who are related to each other by marriage are forbidden to mention each other's names. among the connexions whose names are thus tabooed are wife, mother-in-law, father-in-law, your wife's uncles and aunts and also her grand-uncles and grand-aunts, and the whole of your wife's or your husband's family in the same generation as yourself, except that men may mention the names of their brothers-in-law, though women may not. the taboo comes into operation as soon as the betrothal has taken place and before the marriage has been celebrated. families thus connected by the betrothal of two of their members are not only forbidden to pronounce each other's names; they may not even look at each other, and the rule gives rise to the most comical scenes when they happen to meet unexpectedly. and not merely the names themselves, but any words that sound like them are scrupulously avoided and other words used in their place. if it should chance that a person has inadvertently uttered a forbidden name, he must at once throw himself on the floor and say, "i have mentioned a wrong name. i throw it through the chinks of the floor in order that i may eat well." in the western islands of torres straits a man never mentioned the personal names of his father-in-law, mother-in-law, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law; and a woman was subject to the same restrictions. a brother-in-law might be spoken of as the husband or brother of some one whose name it was lawful to mention; and similarly a sister-in-law might be called the wife of so-and-so. if a man by chance used the personal name of his brother-in-law, he was ashamed and hung his head. his shame was only relieved when he had made a present as compensation to the man whose name he had taken in vain. the same compensation was made to a sister-in-law, a father-in-law, and a mother-in-law for the accidental mention of their names. among the natives who inhabit the coast of the gazelle peninsula in new britain to mention the name of a brother-in-law is the grossest possible affront you can offer to him; it is a crime punishable with death. in the banks' islands, melanesia, the taboos laid on the names of persons connected by marriage are very strict. a man will not mention the name of his father-in-law, much less the name of his mother-in-law, nor may he name his wife's brother; but he may name his wife's sister--she is nothing to him. a woman may not name her father-in-law, nor on any account her son-in-law. two people whose children have intermarried are also debarred from mentioning each other's names. and not only are all these persons forbidden to utter each other's names; they may not even pronounce ordinary words which chance to be either identical with these names or to have any syllables in common with them. thus we hear of a native of these islands who might not use the common words for "pig" and "to die," because these words occurred in the polysyllabic name of his son-in-law; and we are told of another unfortunate who might not pronounce the everyday words for "hand" and "hot" on account of his wife's brother's name, and who was even debarred from mentioning the number "one," because the word for "one" formed part of the name of his wife's cousin. the reluctance to mention the names or even syllables of the names of persons connected with the speaker by marriage can hardly be separated from the reluctance evinced by so many people to utter their own names or the names of the dead or of the dead or of chiefs and kings; and if the reticence as to these latter names springs mainly from superstition, we may infer that the reticence as to the former has no better foundation. that the savage's unwillingness to mention his own name is based, at least in part, on a superstitious fear of the ill use that might be made of it by his foes, whether human or spiritual, has already been shown. it remains to examine the similar usage in regard to the names of the dead and of royal personages. . names of the dead tabooed the custom of abstaining from all mention of the names of the dead was observed in antiquity by the albanians of the caucasus, and at the present day it is in full force among many savage tribes. thus we are told that one of the customs most rigidly observed and enforced amongst the australian aborigines is never to mention the name of a deceased person, whether male or female; to name aloud one who has departed this life would be a gross violation of their most sacred prejudices, and they carefully abstain from it. the chief motive for this abstinence appears to be a fear of evoking the ghost, although the natural unwillingness to revive past sorrows undoubtedly operates also to draw the veil of oblivion over the names of the dead. once mr. oldfield so terrified a native by shouting out the name of a deceased person, that the man fairly took to his heels and did not venture to show himself again for several days. at their next meeting he bitterly reproached the rash white man for his indiscretion; "nor could i," adds mr. oldfield, "induce him by any means to utter the awful sound of a dead man's name, for by so doing he would have placed himself in the power of the malign spirits." among the aborigines of victoria the dead were very rarely spoken of, and then never by their names; they were referred to in a subdued voice as "the lost one" or "the poor fellow that is no more." to speak of them by name would, it was supposed, excite the malignity of couit-gil, the spirit of the departed, which hovers on earth for a time before it departs for ever towards the setting sun. of the tribes on the lower murray river we are told that when a person dies "they carefully avoid mentioning his name; but if compelled to do so, they pronounce it in a very low whisper, so faint that they imagine the spirit cannot hear their voice." amongst the tribes of central australia no one may utter the name of the deceased during the period of mourning, unless it is absolutely necessary to do so, and then it is only done in a whisper for fear of disturbing and annoying the man's spirit which is walking about in ghostly form. if the ghost hears his name mentioned he concludes that his kinsfolk are not mourning for him properly; if their grief were genuine they could not bear to bandy his name about. touched to the quick by their hard-hearted indifference the indignant ghost will come and trouble them in dreams. the same reluctance to utter the names of the dead appears to prevail among all the indian tribes of america from hudson's bay territory to patagonia. among the goajiros of colombia to mention the dead before his kinsmen is a dreadful offence, which is often punished with death; for if it happens on the _rancho_ of the deceased, in presence of his nephew or uncle, they will assuredly kill the offender on the spot if they can. but if he escapes, the penalty resolves itself into a heavy fine, usually of two or more oxen. a similar reluctance to mention the names of the dead is reported of peoples so widely separated from each other as the samoyeds of siberia and the todas of southern india; the mongols of tartary and the tuaregs of the sahara; the ainos of japan and the akamba and nandi of eastern africa; the tinguianes of the philippines and the inhabitants of the nicobar islands, of borneo, of madagascar, and of tasmania. in all cases, even where it is not expressly stated, the fundamental reason for this avoidance is probably the fear of the ghost. that this is the real motive with the tuaregs we are positively informed. they dread the return of the dead man's spirit, and do all they can to avoid it by shifting their camp after a death, ceasing for ever to pronounce the name of the departed, and eschewing everything that might be regarded as an evocation or recall of his soul. hence they do not, like the arabs, designate individuals by adding to their personal names the names of their fathers; they never speak of so-and-so, son of so-and-so; they give to every man a name which will live and die with him. so among some of the victorian tribes in australia personal names were rarely perpetuated, because the natives believed that any one who adopted the name of a deceased person would not live long; probably his ghostly namesake was supposed to come and fetch him away to the spirit-land. the same fear of the ghost, which moves people to suppress his old name, naturally leads all persons who bear a similar name to exchange it for another, lest its utterance should attract the attention of the ghost, who cannot reasonably be expected to discriminate between all the different applications of the same name. thus we are told that in the adelaide and encounter bay tribes of south australia the repugnance to mentioning the names of those who have died lately is carried so far, that persons who bear the same name as the deceased abandon it, and either adopt temporary names or are known by any others that happen to belong to them. a similar custom prevails among some of the queensland tribes; but the prohibition to use the names of the dead is not permanent, though it may last for many years. in some australian tribes the change of name thus brought about is permanent; the old name is laid aside for ever, and the man is known by his new name for the rest of his life, or at least until he is obliged to change it again for a like reason. among the north american indians all persons, whether men or women, who bore the name of one who had just died were obliged to abandon it and to adopt other names, which was formally done at the first ceremony of mourning for the dead. in some tribes to the east of the rocky mountains this change of name lasted only during the season of mourning, but in other tribes on the pacific coast of north america it seems to have been permanent. sometimes by an extension of the same reasoning all the near relations of the deceased change their names, whatever they may happen to be, doubtless from a fear that the sound of the familiar names might lure back the vagrant spirit to its old home. thus in some victorian tribes the ordinary names of all the next of kin were disused during the period of mourning, and certain general terms, prescribed by custom, were substituted for them. to call a mourner by his own name was considered an insult to the departed, and often led to fighting and bloodshed. among indian tribes of north-western america near relations of the deceased often change their names "under an impression that spirits will be attracted back to earth if they hear familiar names often repeated." among the kiowa indians the name of the dead is never spoken in the presence of the relatives, and on the death of any member of a family all the others take new names. this custom was noted by raleigh's colonists on roanoke island more than three centuries ago. among the lengua indians not only is a dead man's name never mentioned, but all the survivors change their names also. they say that death has been among them and has carried off a list of the living, and that he will soon come back for more victims; hence in order to defeat his fell purpose they change their names, believing that on his return death, though he has got them all on his list, will not be able to identify them under their new names, and will depart to pursue the search elsewhere. nicobarese mourners take new names in order to escape the unwelcome attentions of the ghost; and for the same purpose they disguise themselves by shaving their heads so that the ghost is unable to recognise them. further, when the name of the deceased happens to be that of some common object, such as an animal, or plant, or fire, or water, it is sometimes considered necessary to drop that word in ordinary speech and replace it by another. a custom of this sort, it is plain, may easily be a potent agent of change in language; for where it prevails to any considerable extent many words must constantly become obsolete and new ones spring up. and this tendency has been remarked by observers who have recorded the custom in australia, america, and elsewhere. for example, with regard to the australian aborigines it has been noted that "the dialects change with almost every tribe. some tribes name their children after natural objects; and when the person so named dies, the word is never again mentioned; another word has therefore to be invented for the object after which the child was called." the writer gives as an instance the case of a man whose name karla signified "fire"; when karla died, a new word for fire had to be introduced. "hence," adds the writer, "the language is always changing." again, in the encounter bay tribe of south australia, if a man of the name of ngnke, which means "water," were to die, the whole tribe would be obliged to use some other word to express water for a considerable time after his decease. the writer who records this custom surmises that it may explain the presence of a number of synonyms in the language of the tribe. this conjecture is confirmed by what we know of some victorian tribes whose speech comprised a regular set of synonyms to be used instead of the common terms by all members of a tribe in times of mourning. for instance, if a man called waa ( "crow") departed this life, during the period of mourning for him nobody might call a crow a _waa;_ everybody had to speak of the bird as a _narrapart._ when a person who rejoiced in the title of ringtail opossum (_weearn_) had gone the way of all flesh, his sorrowing relations and the tribe at large were bound for a time to refer to ringtail opossums by the more sonorous name of _manuungkuurt._ if the community were plunged in grief for the loss of a respected female who bore the honourable name of turkey bustard, the proper name for turkey bustards, which was _barrim barrim,_ went out, and _tillit tilliitsh_ came in. and so _mutatis mutandis_ with the names of black cockatoo, grey duck, gigantic crane, kangaroo, eagle, dingo, and the rest. a similar custom used to be constantly transforming the language of the abipones of paraguay, amongst whom, however, a word once abolished seems never to have been revived. new words, says the missionary dobrizhoffer, sprang up every year like mushrooms in a night, because all words that resembled the names of the dead were abolished by proclamation and others coined in their place. the mint of words was in the hands of the old women of the tribe, and whatever term they stamped with their approval and put in circulation was immediately accepted without a murmur by high and low alike, and spread like wildfire through every camp and settlement of the tribe. you would be astonished, says the same missionary, to see how meekly the whole nation acquiesces in the decision of a withered old hag, and how completely the old familiar words fall instantly out of use and are never repeated either through force of habit or forgetfulness. in the seven years that dobrizhoffer spent among these indians the native word for jaguar was changed thrice, and the words for crocodile, thorn, and the slaughter of cattle underwent similar though less varied vicissitudes. as a result of this habit, the vocabularies of the missionaries teemed with erasures, old words having constantly to be struck out as obsolete and new ones inserted in their place. in many tribes of british new guinea the names of persons are also the names of common things. the people believe that if the name of a deceased person is pronounced, his spirit will return, and as they have no wish to see it back among them the mention of his name is tabooed and a new word is created to take its place, whenever the name happens to be a common term of the language. consequently many words are permanently lost or revived with modified or new meanings. in the nicobar islands a similar practice has similarly affected the speech of the natives. "a most singular custom," says mr. de roepstorff, "prevails among them which one would suppose must most effectually hinder the 'making of history,' or, at any rate, the transmission of historical narrative. by a strict rule, which has all the sanction of nicobar superstition, no man's name may be mentioned after his death! to such a length is this carried that when, as very frequently happens, the man rejoiced in the name of 'fowl,' 'hat', 'fire,' 'road,' etc., in its nicobarese equivalent, the use of these words is carefully eschewed for the future, not only as being the personal designation of the deceased, but even as the names of the common things they represent; the words die out of the language, and either new vocables are coined to express the thing intended, or a substitute for the disused word is found in other nicobarese dialects or in some foreign tongue. this extraordinary custom not only adds an element of instability to the language, but destroys the continuity of political life, and renders the record of past events precarious and vague, if not impossible." that a superstition which suppresses the names of the dead must cut at the very root of historical tradition has been remarked by other workers in this field. "the klamath people," observes mr. a. s. gatschet, "possess no historic traditions going further back in time than a century, for the simple reason that there was a strict law prohibiting the mention of the person or acts of a deceased individual by _using his name._ this law was rigidly observed among the californians no less than among the oregonians, and on its transgression the death penalty could be inflicted. this is certainly enough to suppress all historical knowledge within a people. how can history be written without names?" in many tribes, however, the power of this superstition to blot out the memory of the past is to some extent weakened and impaired by a natural tendency of the human mind. time, which wears out the deepest impressions, inevitably dulls, if it does not wholly efface, the print left on the savage mind by the mystery and horror of death. sooner or later, as the memory of his loved ones fades slowly away, he becomes more willing to speak of them, and thus their rude names may sometimes be rescued by the philosophic enquirer before they have vanished, like autumn leaves or winter snows, into the vast undistinguished limbo of the past. in some of the victorian tribes the prohibition to mention the names of the dead remained in force only during the period of mourning; in the port lincoln tribe of south australia it lasted many years. among the chinook indians of north america "custom forbids the mention of a dead man's name, at least till many years have elapsed after the bereavement." among the puyallup indians the observance of the taboo is relaxed after several years, when the mourners have forgotten their grief; and if the deceased was a famous warrior, one of his descendants, for instance a great-grandson, may be named after him. in this tribe the taboo is not much observed at any time except by the relations of the dead. similarly the jesuit missionary lafitau tells us that the name of the departed and the similar names of the survivors were, so to say, buried with the corpse until, the poignancy of their grief being abated, it pleased the relations "to lift up the tree and raise the dead." by raising the dead they meant bestowing the name of the departed upon some one else, who thus became to all intents and purposes a reincarnation of the deceased, since on the principles of savage philosophy the name is a vital part, if not the soul, of the man. among the lapps, when a woman was with child and near the time of her delivery, a deceased ancestor or relation used to appear to her in a dream and inform her what dead person was to be born again in her infant, and whose name the child was therefore to bear. if the woman had no such dream, it fell to the father or the relatives to determine the name by divination or by consulting a wizard. among the khonds a birth is celebrated on the seventh day after the event by a feast given to the priest and to the whole village. to determine the child's name the priest drops grains of rice into a cup of water, naming with each grain a deceased ancestor. from the movements of the seed in the water, and from observations made on the person of the infant, he pronounces which of his progenitors has reappeared in him, and the child generally, at least among the northern tribes, receives the name of that ancestor. among the yorubas, soon after a child has been born, a priest of ifa, the god of divination, appears on the scene to ascertain what ancestral soul has been reborn in the infant. as soon as this has been decided, the parents are told that the child must conform in all respects to the manner of life of the ancestor who now animates him or her, and if, as often happens, they profess ignorance, the priest supplies the necessary information. the child usually receives the name of the ancestor who has been born again in him. . names of kings and other sacred persons tabooed when we see that in primitive society the names of mere commoners, whether alive or dead, are matters of such anxious care, we need not be surprised that great precautions should be taken to guard from harm the names of sacred kings and priests. thus the name of the king of dahomey is always kept secret, lest the knowledge of it should enable some evil-minded person to do him a mischief. the appellations by which the different kings of dahomey have been known to europeans are not their true names, but mere titles, or what the natives call "strong names." the natives seem to think that no harm comes of such titles being known, since they are not, like the birth-names, vitally connected with their owners. in the galla kingdom of ghera the birth-name of the sovereign may not be pronounced by a subject under pain of death, and common words which resemble it in sound are changed for others. among the bahima of central africa, when the king dies, his name is abolished from the language, and if his name was that of an animal, a new appellation must be found for the creature at once. for example, the king is often called a lion; hence at the death of a king named lion a new name for lions in general has to be coined. in siam it used to be difficult to ascertain the king's real name, since it was carefully kept secret from fear of sorcery; any one who mentioned it was clapped into gaol. the king might only be referred to under certain high-sounding titles, such as "the august," "the perfect," "the supreme," "the great emperor," "descendant of the angels," and so on. in burma it was accounted an impiety of the deepest dye to mention the name of the reigning sovereign; burmese subjects, even when they were far from their country, could not be prevailed upon to do so; after his accession to the throne the king was known by his royal titles only. among the zulus no man will mention the name of the chief of his tribe or the names of the progenitors of the chief, so far as he can remember them; nor will he utter common words which coincide with or merely resemble in sound tabooed names. in the tribe of the dwandwes there was a chief called langa, which means the sun; hence the name of the sun was changed from _langa_ to _gala,_ and so remains to this day, though langa died more than a hundred years ago. again, in the xnumayo tribe the word meaning "to herd cattle" was changed from _alusa or ayusa_ to _kagesa,_ because u-mayusi was the name of the chief. besides these taboos, which were observed by each tribe separately, all the zulu tribes united in tabooing the name of the king who reigned over the whole nation. hence, for example, when panda was king of zululand, the word for "a root of a tree," which is _impando,_ was changed to _nxabo._ again, the word for "lies" or "slander" was altered from _amacebo_ to _amakwata,_ because _amacebo_ contains a syllable of the name of the famous king cetchwayo. these substitutions are not, however, carried so far by the men as by the women, who omit every sound even remotely resembling one that occurs in a tabooed name. at the king's kraal, indeed, it is sometimes difficult to understand the speech of the royal wives, as they treat in this fashion the names not only of the king and his forefathers, but even of his and their brothers back for generations. when to these tribal and national taboos we add those family taboos on the names of connexions by marriage which have been already described, we can easily understand how it comes about that in zululand every tribe has words peculiar to itself, and that the women have a considerable vocabulary of their own. members, too, of one family may be debarred from using words employed by those of another. the women of one kraal, for instance, may call a hyaena by its ordinary name; those of the next may use the common substitute; while in a third the substitute may also be unlawful and another term may have to be invented to supply its place. hence the zulu language at the present day almost presents the appearance of being a double one; indeed, for multitudes of things it possesses three or four synonyms, which through the blending of tribes are known all over zululand. in madagascar a similar custom everywhere prevails and has resulted, as among the zulus, in producing certain dialectic differences in the speech of the various tribes. there are no family names in madagascar, and almost every personal name is drawn from the language of daily life and signifies some common object or action or quality, such as a bird, a beast, a tree, a plant, a colour, and so on. now, whenever one of these common words forms the name or part of the name of the chief of the tribe, it becomes sacred and may no longer be used in its ordinary signification as the name of a tree, an insect, or what not. hence a new name for the object must be invented to replace the one which has been discarded. it is easy to conceive what confusion and uncertainty may thus be introduced into a language when it is spoken by many little local tribes each ruled by a petty chief with his own sacred name. yet there are tribes and people who submit to this tyranny of words as their fathers did before them from time immemorial. the inconvenient results of the custom are especially marked on the western coast of the island, where, on account of the large number of independent chieftains, the names of things, places, and rivers have suffered so many changes that confusion often arises, for when once common words have been banned by the chiefs the natives will not acknowledge to have ever known them in their old sense. but it is not merely the names of living kings and chiefs which are tabooed in madagascar; the names of dead sovereigns are equally under a ban, at least in some parts of the island. thus among the sakalavas, when a king has died, the nobles and people meet in council round the dead body and solemnly choose a new name by which the deceased monarch shall be henceforth known. after the new name has been adopted, the old name by which the king was known during his life becomes sacred and may not be pronounced under pain of death. further, words in the common language which bear any resemblance to the forbidden name also become sacred and have to be replaced by others. persons who uttered these forbidden words were looked on not only as grossly rude, but even as felons; they had committed a capital crime. however, these changes of vocabulary are confined to the district over which the deceased king reigned; in the neighbouring districts the old words continue to be employed in the old sense. the sanctity attributed to the persons of chiefs in polynesia naturally extended also to their names, which on the primitive view are hardly separable from the personality of their owners. hence in polynesia we find the same systematic prohibition to utter the names of chiefs or of common words resembling them which we have already met with in zululand and madagascar. thus in new zealand the name of a chief is held so sacred that, when it happens to be a common word, it may not be used in the language, and another has to be found to replace it. for example, a chief of the southward of east cape bore the name of maripi, which signified a knife, hence a new word (_nekra_) for knife was introduced, and the old one became obsolete. elsewhere the word for water (_wai_) had to be changed, because it chanced to be the name of the chief, and would have been desecrated by being applied to the vulgar fluid as well as to his sacred person. this taboo naturally produced a plentiful crop of synonyms in the maori language, and travellers newly arrived in the country were sometimes puzzled at finding the same things called by quite different names in neighbouring tribes. when a king comes to the throne in tahiti, any words in the language that resemble his name in sound must be changed for others. in former times, if any man were so rash as to disregard this custom and to use the forbidden words, not only he but all his relations were immediately put to death. but the changes thus introduced were only temporary; on the death of the king the new words fell into disuse, and the original ones were revived. in ancient greece the names of the priests and other high officials who had to do with the performance of the eleusinian mysteries might not be uttered in their lifetime. to pronounce them was a legal offence the pedant in lucian tells how he fell in with these august personages haling along to the police court a ribald fellow who had dared to name them, though well he knew that ever since their consecration it was unlawful to do so, because they had become anonymous, having lost their old names and acquired new and sacred titles. from two inscriptions found at eleusis it appears that the names of the priests were committed to the depths of the sea; probably they were engraved on tablets of bronze or lead, which were then thrown into deep water in the gulf of salamis. the intention doubtless was to keep the names a profound secret; and how could that be done more surely than by sinking them in the sea? what human vision could spy them glimmering far down in the dim depths of the green water? a clearer illustration of the confusion between the incorporeal and the corporeal, between the name and its material embodiment, could hardly be found than in this practice of civilised greece. . names of gods tabooed primitive man creates his gods in his own image. xenophanes remarked long ago that the complexion of negro gods was black and their noses flat; that thracian gods were ruddy and blue-eyed; and that if horses, oxen, and lions only believed in gods and had hands wherewith to portray them, they would doubtless fashion their deities in the form of horses, and oxen, and lions. hence just as the furtive savage conceals his real name because he fears that sorcerers might make an evil use of it, so he fancies that his gods must likewise keep their true name secret, lest other gods or even men should learn the mystic sounds and thus be able to conjure with them. nowhere was this crude conception of the secrecy and magical virtue of the divine name more firmly held or more fully developed than in ancient egypt, where the superstitions of a dateless past were embalmed in the hearts of the people hardly less effectually than the bodies of cats and crocodiles and the rest of the divine menagerie in their rock-cut tombs. the conception is well illustrated by a story which tells how the subtle isis wormed his secret name from ra, the great egyptian god of the sun. isis, so runs the tale, was a woman mighty in words, and she was weary of the world of men, and yearned after the world of the gods. and she meditated in her heart, saying, "cannot i by virtue of the great name of ra make myself a goddess and reign like him in heaven and earth?" for ra had many names, but the great name which gave him all power over gods and men was known to none but himself. now the god was by this time grown old; he slobbered at the mouth and his spittle fell upon the ground. so isis gathered up the spittle and the earth with it, and kneaded thereof a serpent and laid it in the path where the great god passed every day to his double kingdom after his heart's desire. and when he came forth according to his wont, attended by all his company of gods, the sacred serpent stung him, and the god opened his mouth and cried, and his cry went up to heaven. and the company of gods cried, "what aileth thee?" and the gods shouted, "lo and behold!" but he could not answer; his jaws rattled, his limbs shook, the poison ran through his flesh as the nile floweth over the land. when the great god had stilled his heart, he cried to his followers, "come to me, o my children, offspring of my body. i am a prince, the son of a prince, the divine seed of a god. my father devised my name; my father and my mother gave me my name, and it remained hidden in my body since my birth, that no magician might have magic power over me. i went out to behold that which i have made, i walked in the two lands which i have created, and lo! something stung me. what it was, i know not. was it fire? was it water? my heart is on fire, my flesh trembleth, all my limbs do quake. bring me the children of the gods with healing words and understanding lips, whose power reacheth to heaven." then came to him the children of the gods, and they were very sorrowful. and isis came with her craft, whose mouth is full of the breath of life, whose spells chase pain away, whose word maketh the dead to live. she said, "what is it, divine father? what is it?" the holy god opened his mouth, he spake and said, "i went upon my way, i walked after my heart's desire in the two regions which i have made to behold that which i have created, and lo! a serpent that i saw not stung me. is it fire? is it water? i am colder than water, i am hotter than fire, all my limbs sweat, i tremble, mine eye is not steadfast, i behold not the sky, the moisture bedeweth my face as in summer-time." then spake isis, "tell me thy name, divine father, for the man shall live who is called by his name." then answered ra, "i created the heavens and the earth, i ordered the mountains, i made the great and wide sea, i stretched out the two horizons like a curtain. i am he who openeth his eyes and it is light, and who shutteth them and it is dark. at his command the nile riseth, but the gods know not his name. i am khepera in the morning, i am ra at noon, i am tum at eve." but the poison was not taken away from him; it pierced deeper, and the great god could no longer walk. then said isis to him, "that was not thy name that thou spakest unto me. oh tell it me, that the poison may depart; for he shall live whose name is named." now the poison burned like fire, it was hotter than the flame of fire. the god said, "i consent that isis shall search into me, and that my name shall pass from my breast into hers." then the god hid himself from the gods, and his place in the ship of eternity was empty. thus was the name of the great god taken from him, and isis, the witch, spake, "flow away, poison, depart from ra. it is i, even i, who overcome the poison and cast it to the earth; for the name of the great god hath been taken away from him. let ra live and let the poison die." thus spake great isis, the queen of the gods, she who knows ra and his true name. from this story it appears that the real name of the god, with which his power was inextricably bound up, was supposed to be lodged, in an almost physical sense, somewhere in his breast, from which isis extracted it by a sort of surgical operation and transferred it with all its supernatural powers to herself. in egypt attempts like that of isis to appropriate the power of a high god by possessing herself of his name were not mere legends told of the mythical beings of a remote past; every egyptian magician aspired to wield like powers by similar means. for it was believed that he who possessed the true name possessed the very being of god or man, and could force even a deity to obey him as a slave obeys his master. thus the art of the magician consisted in obtaining from the gods a revelation of their sacred names, and he left no stone unturned to accomplish his end. when once a god in a moment of weakness or forgetfulness had imparted to the wizard the wondrous lore, the deity had no choice but to submit humbly to the man or pay the penalty of his contumacy. the belief in the magic virtue of divine names was shared by the romans. when they sat down before a city, the priests addressed the guardian deity of the place in a set form of prayer or incantation, inviting him to abandon the beleaguered city and come over to the romans, who would treat him as well as or better than he had ever been treated in his old home. hence the name of the guardian deity of rome was kept a profound secret, lest the enemies of the republic might lure him away, even as the romans themselves had induced many gods to desert, like rats, the falling fortunes of cities that had sheltered them in happier days. nay, the real name, not merely of its guardian deity, but of the city itself, was wrapt in mystery and might never be uttered, not even in the sacred rites. a certain valerius soranus, who dared to divulge the priceless secret, was put to death or came to a bad end. in like manner, it seems, the ancient assyrians were forbidden to mention the mystic names of their cities; and down to modern times the cheremiss of the caucasus keep the names of their communal villages secret from motives of superstition. if the reader has had the patience to follow this examination of the superstitions attaching to personal names, he will probably agree that the mystery in which the names of royal personages are so often shrouded is no isolated phenomenon, no arbitrary expression of courtly servility and adulation, but merely the particular application of a general law of primitive thought, which includes within its scope common folk and gods as well as kings and priests. xxiii. our debt to the savage it would be easy to extend the list of royal and priestly taboos, but the instances collected in the preceding pages may suffice as specimens. to conclude this part of our subject it only remains to state summarily the general conclusions to which our enquiries have thus far conducted us. we have seen that in savage or barbarous society there are often found men to whom the superstition of their fellows ascribes a controlling influence over the general course of nature. such men are accordingly adored and treated as gods. whether these human divinities also hold temporal sway over the lives and fortunes of their adorers, or whether their functions are purely spiritual and supernatural, in other words, whether they are kings as well as gods or only the latter, is a distinction which hardly concerns us here. their supposed divinity is the essential fact with which we have to deal. in virtue of it they are a pledge and guarantee to their worshippers of the continuance and orderly succession of those physical phenomena upon which mankind depends for subsistence. naturally, therefore, the life and health of such a god-man are matters of anxious concern to the people whose welfare and even existence are bound up with his; naturally he is constrained by them to conform to such rules as the wit of early man has devised for averting the ills to which flesh is heir, including the last ill, death. these rules, as an examination of them has shown, are nothing but the maxims with which, on the primitive view, every man of common prudence must comply if he would live long in the land. but while in the case of ordinary men the observance of the rules is left to the choice of the individual, in the case of the god-man it is enforced under penalty of dismissal from his high station, or even of death. for his worshippers have far too great a stake in his life to allow him to play fast and loose with it. therefore all the quaint superstitions, the old-world maxims, the venerable saws which the ingenuity of savage philosophers elaborated long ago, and which old women at chimney corners still impart as treasures of great price to their descendants gathered round the cottage fire on winter evenings--all these antique fancies clustered, all these cobwebs of the brain were spun about the path of the old king, the human god, who, immeshed in them like a fly in the toils of a spider, could hardly stir a limb for the threads of custom, "light as air but strong as links of iron," that crossing and recrossing each other in an endless maze bound him fast within a network of observances from which death or deposition alone could release him. thus to students of the past the life of the old kings and priests teems with instruction. in it was summed up all that passed for wisdom when the world was young. it was the perfect pattern after which every man strove to shape his life; a faultless model constructed with rigorous accuracy upon the lines laid down by a barbarous philosophy. crude and false as that philosophy may seem to us, it would be unjust to deny it the merit of logical consistency. starting from a conception of the vital principle as a tiny being or soul existing in, but distinct and separable from, the living being, it deduces for the practical guidance of life a system of rules which in general hangs well together and forms a fairly complete and harmonious whole. the flaw--and it is a fatal one--of the system lies not in its reasoning, but in its premises; in its conception of the nature of life, not in any irrelevancy of the conclusions which it draws from that conception. but to stigmatise these premises as ridiculous because we can easily detect their falseness, would be ungrateful as well as unphilosophical. we stand upon the foundation reared by the generations that have gone before, and we can but dimly realise the painful and prolonged efforts which it has cost humanity to struggle up to the point, no very exalted one after all, which we have reached. our gratitude is due to the nameless and forgotten toilers, whose patient thought and active exertions have largely made us what we are. the amount of new knowledge which one age, certainly which one man, can add to the common store is small, and it argues stupidity or dishonesty, besides ingratitude, to ignore the heap while vaunting the few grains which it may have been our privilege to add to it. there is indeed little danger at present of undervaluing the contributions which modern times and even classical antiquity have made to the general advancement of our race. but when we pass these limits, the case is different. contempt and ridicule or abhorrence and denunciation are too often the only recognition vouchsafed to the savage and his ways. yet of the benefactors whom we are bound thankfully to commemorate, many, perhaps most, were savages. for when all is said and done our resemblances to the savage are still far more numerous than our differences from him; and what we have in common with him, and deliberately retain as true and useful, we owe to our savage forefathers who slowly acquired by experience and transmitted to us by inheritance those seemingly fundamental ideas which we are apt to regard as original and intuitive. we are like heirs to a fortune which has been handed down for so many ages that the memory of those who built it up is lost, and its possessors for the time being regard it as having been an original and unalterable possession of their race since the beginning of the world. but reflection and enquiry should satisfy us that to our predecessors we are indebted for much of what we thought most our own, and that their errors were not wilful extravagances or the ravings of insanity, but simply hypotheses, justifiable as such at the time when they were propounded, but which a fuller experience has proved to be inadequate. it is only by the successive testing of hypotheses and rejection of the false that truth is at last elicited. after all, what we call truth is only the hypothesis which is found to work best. therefore in reviewing the opinions and practices of ruder ages and races we shall do well to look with leniency upon their errors as inevitable slips made in the search for truth, and to give them the benefit of that indulgence which we ourselves may one day stand in need of: _cum excusatione itaque veteres audiendi sunt._ xxiv. the killing of the divine king . the mortality of the gods man has created gods in his own likeness and being himself mortal he has naturally supposed his creatures to be in the same sad predicament. thus the greenlanders believed that a wind could kill their most powerful god, and that he would certainly die if he touched a dog. when they heard of the christian god, they kept asking if he never died, and being informed that he did not, they were much surprised, and said that he must be a very great god indeed. in answer to the enquiries of colonel dodge, a north american indian stated that the world was made by the great spirit. being asked which great spirit he meant, the good one or the bad one, "oh, neither of _them,_" replied he, "the great spirit that made the world is dead long ago. he could not possibly have lived as long as this." a tribe in the philippine islands told the spanish conquerors that the grave of the creator was upon the top of mount cabunian. heitsi-eibib, a god or divine hero of the hottentots, died several times and came to life again. his graves are generally to be met with in narrow defiles between mountains. when the hottentots pass one of them, they throw a stone on it for good luck, sometimes muttering, "give us plenty of cattle." the grave of zeus, the great god of greece, was shown to visitors in crete as late as about the beginning of our era. the body of dionysus was buried at delphi beside the golden statue of apollo, and his tomb bore the inscription, "here lies dionysus dead, the son of semele." according to one account, apollo himself was buried at delphi; for pythagoras is said to have carved an inscription on his tomb, setting forth how the god had been killed by the python and buried under the tripod. the great gods of egypt themselves were not exempt from the common lot. they too grew old and died. but when at a later time the discovery of the art of embalming gave a new lease of life to the souls of the dead by preserving their bodies for an indefinite time from corruption, the deities were permitted to share the benefit of an invention which held out to gods as well as to men a reasonable hope of immortality. every province then had the tomb and mummy of its dead god. the mummy of osiris was to be seen at mendes; thinis boasted of the mummy of anhouri; and heliopolis rejoiced in the possession of that of toumou. the high gods of babylon also, though they appeared to their worshippers only in dreams and visions, were conceived to be human in their bodily shape, human in their passions, and human in their fate; for like men they were born into the world, and like men they loved and fought and died. . kings killed when their strength fails if the high gods, who dwell remote from the fret and fever of this earthly life, are yet believed to die at last, it is not to be expected that a god who lodges in a frail tabernacle of flesh should escape the same fate, though we hear of african kings who have imagined themselves immortal by virtue of their sorceries. now primitive peoples, as we have seen, sometimes believe that their safety and even that of the world is bound up with the life of one of these god-men or human incarnations of the divinity. naturally, therefore, they take the utmost care of his life, out of a regard for their own. but no amount of care and precaution will prevent the man-god from growing old and feeble and at last dying. his worshippers have to lay their account with this sad necessity and to meet it as best they can. the danger is a formidable one; for if the course of nature is dependent on the man-god's life, what catastrophes may not be expected from the gradual enfeeblement of his powers and their final extinction in death? there is only one way of averting these dangers. the man-god must be killed as soon as he shows symptoms that his powers are beginning to fail, and his soul must be transferred to a vigorous successor before it has been seriously impaired by the threatened decay. the advantages of thus putting the man-god to death instead of allowing him to die of old age and disease are, to the savage, obvious enough. for if the man-god dies what we call a natural death, it means, according to the savage, that his soul has either voluntarily departed from his body and refuses to return, or more commonly that it has been extracted, or at least detained in its wanderings, by a demon or sorcerer. in any of these cases the soul of the man-god is lost to his worshippers, and with it their prosperity is gone and their very existence endangered. even if they could arrange to catch the soul of the dying god as it left his lips or his nostrils and so transfer it to a successor, this would not effect their purpose; for, dying of disease, his soul would necessarily leave his body in the last stage of weakness and exhaustion, and so enfeebled it would continue to drag out a languid, inert existence in any body to which it might be transferred. whereas by slaying him his worshippers could, in the first place, make sure of catching his soul as it escaped and transferring it to a suitable successor; and, in the second place, by putting him to death before his natural force was abated, they would secure that the world should not fall into decay with the decay of the man-god. every purpose, therefore, was answered, and all dangers averted by thus killing the man-god and transferring his soul, while yet at its prime, to a vigorous successor. the mystic kings of fire and water in cambodia are not allowed to die a natural death. hence when one of them is seriously ill and the elders think that he cannot recover, they stab him to death. the people of congo believed, as we have seen, that if their pontiff the chitomé were to die a natural death, the world would perish, and the earth, which he alone sustained by his power and merit, would immediately be annihilated. accordingly when he fell ill and seemed likely to die, the man who was destined to be his successor entered the pontiff's house with a rope or a club and strangled or clubbed him to death. the ethiopian kings of meroe were worshipped as gods; but whenever the priests chose, they sent a messenger to the king, ordering him to die, and alleging an oracle of the gods as their authority for the command. this command the kings always obeyed down to the reign of ergamenes, a contemporary of ptolemy ii., king of egypt. having received a greek education which emancipated him from the superstitions of his countrymen, ergamenes ventured to disregard the command of the priests, and, entering the golden temple with a body of soldiers, put the priests to the sword. customs of the same sort appear to have prevailed in this part of africa down to modern times. in some tribes of fazoql the king had to administer justice daily under a certain tree. if from sickness or any other cause he was unable to discharge this duty for three whole days, he was hanged on the tree in a noose, which contained two razors so arranged that when the noose was drawn tight by the weight of the king's body they cut his throat. a custom of putting their divine kings to death at the first symptoms of infirmity or old age prevailed until lately, if indeed it is even now extinct and not merely dormant, among the shilluk of the white nile, and in recent years it has been carefully investigated by dr. c. g. seligman. the reverence which the shilluk pay to their king appears to arise chiefly from the conviction that he is a reincarnation of the spirit of nyakang, the semi-divine hero who founded the dynasty and settled the tribe in their present territory. it is a fundamental article of the shilluk creed that the spirit of the divine or semi-divine nyakang is incarnate in the reigning king, who is accordingly himself invested to some extent with the character of a divinity. but while the shilluk hold their kings in high, indeed religious reverence and take every precaution against their accidental death, nevertheless they cherish "the conviction that the king must not be allowed to become ill or senile, lest with his diminishing vigour the cattle should sicken and fail to bear their increase, the crops should rot in the fields, and man, stricken with disease, should die in ever-increasing numbers." to prevent these calamities it used to be the regular custom with the shilluk to put the king to death whenever he showed signs of ill-health or failing strength. one of the fatal symptoms of decay was taken to be an incapacity to satisfy the sexual passions of his wives, of whom he has very many, distributed in a large number of houses at fashoda. when this ominous weakness manifested itself, the wives reported it to the chiefs, who are popularly said to have intimated to the king his doom by spreading a white cloth over his face and knees as he lay slumbering in the heat of the sultry afternoon. execution soon followed the sentence of death. a hut was specially built for the occasion: the king was led into it and lay down with his head resting on the lap of a nubile virgin: the door of the hut was then walled up; and the couple were left without food, water, or fire to die of hunger and suffocation. this was the old custom, but it was abolished some five generations ago on account of the excessive sufferings of one of the kings who perished in this way. it is said that the chiefs announce his fate to the king, and that afterwards he is strangled in a hut which has been specially built for the occasion. from dr. seligman's enquiries it appears that not only was the shilluk king liable to be killed with due ceremony at the first symptoms of incipient decay, but even while he was yet in the prime of health and strength he might be attacked at any time by a rival and have to defend his crown in a combat to the death. according to the common shilluk tradition any son of a king had the right thus to fight the king in possession and, if he succeeded in killing him, to reign in his stead. as every king had a large harem and many sons, the number of possible candidates for the throne at any time may well have been not inconsiderable, and the reigning monarch must have carried his life in his hand. but the attack on him could only take place with any prospect of success at night; for during the day the king surrounded himself with his friends and bodyguards, and an aspirant to the throne could hardly hope to cut his way through them and strike home. it was otherwise at night. for then the guards were dismissed and the king was alone in his enclosure with his favourite wives, and there was no man near to defend him except a few herdsmen, whose huts stood a little way off. the hours of darkness were therefore the season of peril for the king. it is said that he used to pass them in constant watchfulness, prowling round his huts fully armed, peering into the blackest shadows, or himself standing silent and alert, like a sentinel on duty, in some dark corner. when at last his rival appeared, the fight would take place in grim silence, broken only by the clash of spears and shields, for it was a point of honour with the king not to call the herdsmen to his assistance. like nyakang himself, their founder, each of the shilluk kings after death is worshipped at a shrine, which is erected over his grave, and the grave of a king is always in the village where he was born. the tomb-shrine of a king resembles the shrine of nyakang, consisting of a few huts enclosed by a fence; one of the huts is built over the king's grave, the others are occupied by the guardians of the shrine. indeed the shrines of nyakang and the shrines of the kings are scarcely to be distinguished from each other, and the religious rituals observed at all of them are identical in form and vary only in matters of detail, the variations being due apparently to the far greater sanctity attributed to the shrines of nyakang. the grave-shrines of the kings are tended by certain old men or women, who correspond to the guardians of the shrines of nyakang. they are usually widows or old men-servants of the deceased king, and when they die they are succeeded in their office by their descendants. moreover, cattle are dedicated to the grave-shrines of the kings and sacrifices are offered at them just as at the shrines of nyakang. in general the principal element in the religion of the shilluk would seem to be the worship which they pay to their sacred or divine kings, whether dead or alive. these are believed to be animated by a single divine spirit, which has been transmitted from the semi-mythical, but probably in substance historical, founder of the dynasty through all his successors to the present day. hence, regarding their kings as incarnate divinities on whom the welfare of men, of cattle, and of the corn implicitly depends, the shilluk naturally pay them the greatest respect and take every care of them; and however strange it may seem to us, their custom of putting the divine king to death as soon as he shows signs of ill-health or failing strength springs directly from their profound veneration for him and from their anxiety to preserve him, or rather the divine spirit by which he is animated, in the most perfect state of efficiency: nay, we may go further and say that their practice of regicide is the best proof they can give of the high regard in which they hold their kings. for they believe, as we have seen, that the king's life or spirit is so sympathetically bound up with the prosperity of the whole country, that if he fell ill or grew senile the cattle would sicken and cease to multiply, the crops would rot in the fields, and men would perish of widespread disease. hence, in their opinion, the only way of averting these calamities is to put the king to death while he is still hale and hearty, in order that the divine spirit which he has inherited from his predecessors may be transmitted in turn by him to his successor while it is still in full vigour and has not yet been impaired by the weakness of disease and old age. in this connexion the particular symptom which is commonly said to seal the king's death-warrant is highly significant; when he can no longer satisfy the passions of his numerous wives, in other words, when he has ceased, whether partially or wholly, to be able to reproduce his kind, it is time for him to die and to make room for a more vigorous successor. taken along with the other reasons which are alleged for putting the king to death, this one suggests that the fertility of men, of cattle, and of the crops is believed to depend sympathetically on the generative power of the king, so that the complete failure of that power in him would involve a corresponding failure in men, animals, and plants, and would thereby entail at no distant date the entire extinction of all life, whether human, animal, or vegetable. no wonder, that with such a danger before their eyes the shilluk should be most careful not to let the king die what we should call a natural death of sickness or old age. it is characteristic of their attitude towards the death of the kings that they refrain from speaking of it as death: they do not say that a king has died but simply that he has "gone away" like his divine ancestors nyakang and dag, the two first kings of the dynasty, both of whom are reported not to have died but to have disappeared. the similar legends of the mysterious disappearance of early kings in other lands, for example at rome and in uganda, may well point to a similar custom of putting them to death for the purpose of preserving their life. on the whole the theory and practice of the divine kings of the shilluk correspond very nearly to the theory and practice of the priests of nemi, the kings of the wood, if my view of the latter is correct. in both we see a series of divine kings on whose life the fertility of men, of cattle, and of vegetation is believed to depend, and who are put to death, whether in single combat or otherwise, in order that their divine spirit may be transmitted to their successors in full vigour, uncontaminated by the weakness and decay of sickness or old age, because any such degeneration on the part of the king would, in the opinion of his worshippers, entail a corresponding degeneration on manking, on cattle, and on the crops. some points in this explanation of the custom of putting divine kings to death, particularly the method of transmitting their divine souls to their successors, will be dealt with more fully in the sequel. meantime we pass to other examples of the general practice. the dinka are a congeries of independent tribes in the valley of the white nile. they are essentially a pastoral people, passionately devoted to the care of their numerous herds of oxen, though they also keep sheep and goats, and the women cultivate small quantities of millet and sesame. for their crops and above all for their pastures they depend on the regularity of the rains: in seasons of prolonged drought they are said to be reduced to great extremities. hence the rain-maker is a very important personage among them to this day; indeed the men in authority whom travellers dub chiefs or sheikhs are in fact the actual or potential rain-makers of the tribe or community. each of them is believed to be animated by the spirit of a great rain-maker, which has come down to him through a succession of rain-makers; and in virtue of this inspiration a successful rain-maker enjoys very great power and is consulted on all important matters. yet in spite, or rather in virtue, of the high honour in which he is held, no dinka rain-maker is allowed to die a natural death of sickness or old age; for the dinka believe that if such an untoward event were to happen, the tribe would suffer from disease and famine, and the herds would not yield their increase. so when a rain-maker feels that he is growing old and infirm, he tells his children that he wishes to die. among the agar dinka a large grave is dug and the rain-maker lies down in it, surrounded by his friends and relatives. from time to time he speaks to the people, recalling the past history of the tribe, reminding them how he has ruled and advised them, and instructing them how they are to act in the future. then, when he has concluded his admonition, he bids them cover him up. so the earth is thrown down on him as he lies in the grave, and he soon dies of suffocation. such, with minor variations, appears to be the regular end of the honourable career of a rain-maker in all the dinka tribes. the khor-adar dinka told dr. seligman that when they have dug the grave for their rain-maker they strangle him in his house. the father and paternal uncle of one of dr. seligman's informants had both been rain-makers and both had been killed in the most regular and orthodox fashion. even if a rain-maker is quite young he will be put to death should he seem likely to perish of disease. further, every precaution is taken to prevent a rain-maker from dying an accidental death, for such an end, though not nearly so serious a matter as death from illness or old age, would be sure to entail sickness on the tribe. as soon as a rain-maker is killed, his valuable spirit is supposed to pass to a suitable successor, whether a son or other near blood relation. in the central african kingdom of bunyoro down to recent years custom required that as soon as the king fell seriously ill or began to break up from age, he should die by his own hand; for, according to an old prophecy, the throne would pass away from the dynasty if ever the king were to die a natural death. he killed himself by draining a poisoned cup. if he faltered or were too ill to ask for the cup, it was his wife's duty to administer the poison. when the king of kibanga, on the upper congo, seems near his end, the sorcerers put a rope round his neck, which they draw gradually tighter till he dies. if the king of gingiro happens to be wounded in war, he is put to death by his comrades, or, if they fail to kill him, by his kinsfolk, however hard he may beg for mercy. they say they do it that he may not die by the hands of his enemies. the jukos are a heathen tribe of the benue river, a great tributary of the niger. in their country "the town of gatri is ruled by a king who is elected by the big men of the town as follows. when in the opinion of the big men the king has reigned long enough, they give out that 'the king is sick'--a formula understood by all to mean that they are going to kill him, though the intention is never put more plainly. they then decide who is to be the next king. how long he is to reign is settled by the influential men at a meeting; the question is put and answered by each man throwing on the ground a little piece of stick for each year he thinks the new king should rule. the king is then told, and a great feast prepared, at which the king gets drunk on guinea-corn beer. after that he is speared, and the man who was chosen becomes king. thus each juko king knows that he cannot have very many more years to live, and that he is certain of his predecessor's fate. this, however, does not seem to frighten candidates. the same custom of king-killing is said to prevail at quonde and wukari as well as at gatri." in the three hausa kingdoms of gobir, katsina, and daura, in northern nigeria, as soon as a king showed signs of failing health or growing infirmity, an official who bore the title of killer of the elephant appeared and throttled him. the matiamvo is a great king or emperor in the interior of angola. one of the inferior kings of the country, by name challa, gave to a portuguese expedition the following account of the manner in which the matiamvo comes by his end. "it has been customary," he said, "for our matiamvos to die either in war or by a violent death, and the present matiamvo must meet this last fate, as, in consequence of his great exactions, he has lived long enough. when we come to this understanding, and decide that he should be killed, we invite him to make war with our enemies, on which occasion we all accompany him and his family to the war, when we lose some of our people. if he escapes unhurt, we return to the war again and fight for three or four days. we then suddenly abandon him and his family to their fate, leaving him in the enemy's hands. seeing himself thus deserted, he causes his throne to be erected, and, sitting down, calls his family around him. he then orders his mother to approach; she kneels at his feet; he first cuts off her head, then decapitates his sons in succession, next his wives and relatives, and, last of all, his most beloved wife, called anacullo. this slaughter being accomplished, the matiamvo, dressed in all his pomp, awaits his own death, which immediately follows, by an officer sent by the powerful neighbouring chiefs, caniquinha and canica. this officer first cuts off his legs and arms at the joints, and lastly he cuts off his head; after which the head of the officer is struck off. all the potentates retire from the encampment, in order not to witness his death. it is my duty to remain and witness his death, and to mark the place where the head and arms have been deposited by the two great chiefs, the enemies of the matiamvo. they also take possession of all the property belonging to the deceased monarch and his family, which they convey to their own residence. i then provide for the funeral of the mutilated remains of the late matiamvo, after which i retire to his capital and proclaim the new government. i then return to where the head, legs, and arms have been deposited, and, for forty slaves, i ransom them, together with the merchandise and other property belonging to the deceased, which i give up to the new matiamvo, who has been proclaimed. this is what has happened to many matiamvos, and what must happen to the present one." it appears to have been a zulu custom to put the king to death as soon as he began to have wrinkles or grey hairs. at least this seems implied in the following passage written by one who resided for some time at the court of the notorious zulu tyrant chaka, in the early part of the nineteenth century: "the extraordinary violence of the king's rage with me was mainly occasioned by that absurd nostrum, the hair oil, with the notion of which mr. farewell had impressed him as being a specific for removing all indications of age. from the first moment of his having heard that such a preparation was attainable, he evinced a solicitude to procure it, and on every occasion never forgot to remind us of his anxiety respecting it; more especially on our departure on the mission his injunctions were particularly directed to this object. it will be seen that it is one of the barbarous customs of the zoolas in their choice or election of their kings that he must neither have wrinkles nor grey hairs, as they are both distinguishing marks of disqualification for becoming a monarch of a warlike people. it is also equally indispensable that their king should never exhibit those proofs of having become unfit and incompetent to reign; it is therefore important that they should conceal these indications so long as they possibly can. chaka had become greatly apprehensive of the approach of grey hairs; which would at once be the signal for him to prepare to make his exit from this sublunary world, it being always followed by the death of the monarch." the writer to whom we are indebted for this instructive anecdote of the hair oil omits to specify the mode in which a grey-haired and wrinkled zulu chief used "to make his exit from this sublunary world"; but on analogy we may conjecture that he was killed. the custom of putting kings to death as soon as they suffered from any personal defect prevailed two centuries ago in the caffre kingdom of sofala. we have seen that these kings of sofala were regarded as gods by their people, being entreated to give rain or sunshine, according as each might be wanted. nevertheless a slight bodily blemish, such as the loss of a tooth, was considered a sufficient cause for putting one of these god-men to death, as we learn from the following passage of an old portuguese historian: "it was formerly the custom of the kings of this land to commit suicide by taking poison when any disaster or natural physical defect fell upon them, such as impotence, infectious disease, the loss of their front teeth, by which they were disfigured, or any other deformity or affliction. to put an end to such defects they killed themselves, saying that the king should be free from any blemish, and if not, it was better for his honour that he should die and seek another life where he would be made whole, for there everything was perfect. but the quiteve (king) who reigned when i was in those parts would not imitate his predecessors in this, being discreet and dreaded as he was; for having lost a front tooth he caused it to be proclaimed throughout the kingdom that all should be aware that he had lost a tooth and should recognise him when they saw him without it, and if his predecessors killed themselves for such things they were very foolish, and he would not do so; on the contrary, he would be very sorry when the time came for him to die a natural death, for his life was very necessary to preserve his kingdom and defend it from his enemies; and he recommended his successors to follow his example." the king of sofala who dared to survive the loss of his front tooth was thus a bold reformer like ergamenes, king of ethiopia. we may conjecture that the ground for putting the ethiopian kings to death was, as in the case of the zulu and sofala kings, the appearance on their person of any bodily defect or sign of decay; and that the oracle which the priests alleged as the authority for the royal execution was to the effect that great calamities would result from the reign of a king who had any blemish on his body; just as an oracle warned sparta against a "lame reign," that is, the reign of a lame king. it is some confirmation of this conjecture that the kings of ethiopia were chosen for their size, strength, and beauty long before the custom of killing them was abolished. to this day the sultan of wadai must have no obvious bodily defect, and the king of angoy cannot be crowned if he has a single blemish, such as a broken or a filed tooth or the scar of an old wound. according to the book of acaill and many other authorities no king who was afflicted with a personal blemish might reign over ireland at tara. hence, when the great king cormac mac art lost one eye by an accident, he at once abdicated. many days' journey to the north-east of abomey, the old capital of dahomey, lies the kingdom of eyeo. "the eyeos are governed by a king, no less absolute than the king of dahomey, yet subject to a regulation of state, at once humiliating and extraordinary. when the people have conceived an opinion of his ill-government, which is sometimes insidiously infused into them by the artifice of his discontented ministers, they send a deputation to him with a present of parrots' eggs, as a mark of its authenticity, to represent to him that the burden of government must have so far fatigued him that they consider it full time for him to repose from his cares and indulge himself with a little sleep. he thanks his subjects for their attention to his ease, retires to his own apartment as if to sleep, and there gives directions to his women to strangle him. this is immediately executed, and his son quietly ascends the throne upon the usual terms of holding the reins of government no longer than whilst he merits the approbation of the people." about the year , a king of eyeo, whom his ministers attempted to remove in the customary manner, positively refused to accept the proffered parrots' eggs at their hands, telling them that he had no mind to take a nap, but on the contrary was resolved to watch for the benefit of his subjects. the ministers, surprised and indignant at his recalcitrancy, raised a rebellion, but were defeated with great slaughter, and thus by his spirited conduct the king freed himself from the tyranny of his councillors and established a new precedent for the guidance of his successors. however, the old custom seems to have revived and persisted until late in the nineteenth century, for a catholic missionary, writing in , speaks of the practice as if it were still in vogue. another missionary, writing in , thus describes the usage of the egbas and the yorubas of west africa: "among the customs of the country one of the most curious is unquestionably that of judging, and punishing the king. should he have earned the hatred of his people by exceeding his rights, one of his councillors, on whom the heavy duty is laid, requires of the prince that he shall 'go to sleep,' which means simply 'take poison and die.' if his courage fails him at the supreme moment, a friend renders him this last service, and quietly, without betraying the secret, they prepare the people for the news of the king's death. in yoruba the thing is managed a little differently. when a son is born to the king of oyo, they make a model of the infant's right foot in clay and keep it in the house of the elders (_ogboni_). if the king fails to observe the customs of the country, a messenger, without speaking a word, shows him his child's foot. the king knows what that means. he takes poison and goes to sleep." the old prussians acknowledged as their supreme lord a ruler who governed them in the name of the gods, and was known as "god's mouth." when he felt himself weak and ill, if he wished to leave a good name behind him, he had a great heap made of thorn-bushes and straw, on which he mounted and delivered a long sermon to the people, exhorting them to serve the gods and promising to go to the gods and speak for the people. then he took some of the perpetual fire which burned in front of the holy oak-tree, and lighting the pile with it burned himself to death. . kings killed at the end of a fixed term in the cases hitherto described, the divine king or priest is suffered by his people to retain office until some outward defect, some visible symptom of failing health or advancing age, warns them that he is no longer equal to the discharge of his divine duties; but not until such symptoms have made their appearance is he put to death. some peoples, however, appear to have thought it unsafe to wait for even the slightest symptom of decay and have preferred to kill the king while he was still in the full vigour of life. accordingly, they have fixed a term beyond which he might not reign, and at the close of which he must die, the term fixed upon being short enough to exclude the probability of his degenerating physically in the interval. in some parts of southern india the period fixed was twelve years. thus, according to an old traveller, in the province of quilacare, "there is a gentile house of prayer, in which there is an idol which they hold in great account, and every twelve years they celebrate a great feast to it, whither all the gentiles go as to a jubilee. this temple possesses many lands and much revenue: it is a very great affair. this province has a king over it, who has not more than twelve years to reign from jubilee to jubilee. his manner of living is in this wise, that is to say: when the twelve years are completed, on the day of this feast there assemble together innumerable people, and much money is spent in giving food to bramans. the king has a wooden scaffolding made, spread over with silken hangings: and on that day he goes to bathe at a tank with great ceremonies and sound of music, after that he comes to the idol and prays to it, and mounts on to the scaffolding, and there before all the people he takes some very sharp knives, and begins to cut off his nose, and then his ears, and his lips, and all his members, and as much flesh off himself as he can; and he throws it away very hurriedly until so much of his blood is spilled that he begins to faint, and then he cuts his throat himself. and he performs this sacrifice to the idol, and whoever desires to reign another twelve years and undertake this martyrdom for love of the idol, has to be present looking on at this: and from that place they raise him up as king." the king of calicut, on the malabar coast, bears the title of samorin or samory. he "pretends to be of a higher rank than the brahmans, and to be inferior only to the invisible gods; a pretention that was acknowledged by his subjects, but which is held as absurd and abominable by the brahmans, by whom he is only treated as a sudra." formerly the samorin had to cut his throat in public at the end of a twelve years' reign. but towards the end of the seventeenth century the rule had been modified as follows: "many strange customs were observed in this country in former times, and some very odd ones are still continued. it was an ancient custom for the samorin to reign but twelve years, and no longer. if he died before his term was expired, it saved him a troublesome ceremony of cutting his own throat, on a publick scaffold erected for the purpose. he first made a feast for all his nobility and gentry, who are very numerous. after the feast he saluted his guests, and went on the scaffold, and very decently cut his own throat in the view of the assembly, and his body was, a little while after, burned with great pomp and ceremony, and the grandees elected a new samorin. whether that custom was a religious or a civil ceremony, i know not, but it is now laid aside. and a new custom is followed by the modern samorins, that jubilee is proclaimed throughout his dominions, at the end of twelve years, and a tent is pitched for him in a spacious plain, and a great feast is celebrated for ten or twelve days, with mirth and jollity, guns firing night and day, so at the end of the feast any four of the guests that have a mind to gain a crown by a desperate action, in fighting their way through or , of his guards, and kill the samorin in his tent, he that kills him succeeds him in his empire. in anno , one of those jubilees happened, and the tent pitched near pennany, a seaport of his, about fifteen leagues to the southward of calicut. there were but three men that would venture on that desperate action, who fell in, with sword and target, among the guard, and, after they had killed and wounded many, were themselves killed. one of the desperados had a nephew of fifteen or sixteen years of age, that kept close by his uncle in the attack on the guards, and, when he saw him fall, the youth got through the guards into the tent, and made a stroke at his majesty's head, and had certainly despatched him if a large brass lamp which was burning over his head had not marred the blow; but, before he could make another, he was killed by the guards; and, i believe, the same samorin reigns yet. i chanced to come that time along the coast and heard the guns for two or three days and nights successively." the english traveller, whose account i have quoted, did not himself witness the festival he describes, though he heard the sound of the firing in the distance. fortunately, exact records of these festivals and of the number of men who perished at them have been preserved in the archives of the royal family at calicut. in the latter part of the nineteenth century they were examined by mr. w. logan, with the personal assistance of the reigning king, and from his work it is possible to gain an accurate conception both of the tragedy and of the scene where it was periodically enacted down to , when the ceremony took place for the last time. the festival at which the king of calicut staked his crown and his life on the issue of battle was known as the "great sacrifice." it fell every twelfth year, when the planet jupiter was in retrograde motion in the sign of the crab, and it lasted twenty-eight days, culminating at the time of the eighth lunar asterism in the month of makaram. as the date of the festival was determined by the position of jupiter in the sky, and the interval between two festivals was twelve years, which is roughly jupiter's period of revolution round the sun, we may conjecture that the splendid planet was supposed to be in a special sense the king's star and to rule his destiny, the period of its revolution in heaven corresponding to the period of his reign on earth. however that may be, the ceremony was observed with great pomp at the tirunavayi temple, on the north bank of the ponnani river. the spot is close to the present railway line. as the train rushes by, you can just catch a glimpse of the temple, almost hidden behind a clump of trees on the river bank. from the western gateway of the temple a perfectly straight road, hardly raised above the level of the surrounding rice-fields and shaded by a fine avenue, runs for half a mile to a high ridge with a precipitous bank, on which the outlines of three or four terraces can still be traced. on the topmost of these terraces the king took his stand on the eventful day. the view which it commands is a fine one. across the flat expanse of the rice-fields, with the broad placid river winding through them, the eye ranges eastward to high tablelands, their lower slopes embowered in woods, while afar off looms the great chain of the western ghauts, and in the furthest distance the neilgherries or blue mountains, hardly distinguishable from the azure of the sky above. but it was not to the distant prospect that the king's eyes naturally turned at this crisis of his fate. his attention was arrested by a spectacle nearer at hand. for all the plain below was alive with troops, their banners waving gaily in the sun, the white tents of their many camps standing sharply out against the green and gold of the ricefields. forty thousand fighting men or more were gathered there to defend the king. but if the plain swarmed with soldiers, the road that cuts across it from the temple to the king's stand was clear of them. not a soul was stirring on it. each side of the way was barred by palisades, and from the palisades on either hand a long hedge of spears, held by strong arms, projected into the empty road, their blades meeting in the middle and forming a glittering arch of steel. all was now ready. the king waved his sword. at the same moment a great chain of massy gold, enriched with bosses, was placed on an elephant at his side. that was the signal. on the instant a stir might be seen half a mile away at the gate of the temple. a group of swordsmen, decked with flowers and smeared with ashes, has stepped out from the crowd. they have just partaken of their last meal on earth, and they now receive the last blessings and farewells of their friends. a moment more and they are coming down the lane of spears, hewing and stabbing right and left at the spearmen, winding and turning and writhing among the blades as if they had no bones in their bodies. it is all in vain. one after the other they fall, some nearer the king, some farther off, content to die, not for the shadow of a crown, but for the mere sake of approving their dauntless valour and swordsmanship to the world. on the last days of the festival the same magnificent display of gallantry, the same useless sacrifice of life was repeated again and again. yet perhaps no sacrifice is wholly useless which proves that there are men who prefer honour to life. "it is a singular custom in bengal," says an old native historian of india, "that there is little of hereditary descent in succession to the sovereignty. . . . whoever kills the king, and succeeds in placing himself on that throne, is immediately acknowledged as king; all the _amirs, wazirs,_ soldiers, and peasants instantly obey and submit to him, and consider him as being as much their sovereign as they did their former prince, and obey his orders implicitly. the people of bengal say, 'we are faithful to the throne; whoever fills the throne we are obedient and true to it.'" a custom of the same sort formerly prevailed in the little kingdom of passier, on the northern coast of sumatra. the old portuguese historian de barros, who informs us of it, remarks with surprise that no wise man would wish to be king of passier, since the monarch was not allowed by his subjects to live long. from time to time a sort of fury seized the people, and they marched through the streets of the city chanting with loud voices the fatal words, "the king must die!" when the king heard that song of death he knew that his hour had come. the man who struck the fatal blow was of the royal lineage, and as soon as he had done the deed of blood and seated himself on the throne he was regarded as the legitimate king, provided that he contrived to maintain his seat peaceably for a single day. this, however, the regicide did not always succeed in doing. when fernão peres d'andrade, on a voyage to china, put in at passier for a cargo of spices, two kings were massacred, and that in the most peaceable and orderly manner, without the smallest sign of tumult or sedition in the city, where everything went on in its usual course, as if the murder or execution of a king were a matter of everyday occurrence. indeed, on one occasion three kings were raised to the dangerous elevation and followed each other in the dusty road of death in a single day. the people defended the custom, which they esteemed very laudable and even of divine institution, by saying that god would never allow so high and mighty a being as a king, who reigned as his vicegerent on earth, to perish by violence unless for his sins he thoroughly deserved it. far away from the tropical island of sumatra a rule of the same sort appears to have obtained among the old slavs. when the captives gunn and jarmerik contrived to slay the king and queen of the slavs and made their escape, they were pursued by the barbarians, who shouted after them that if they would only come back they would reign instead of the murdered monarch, since by a public statute of the ancients the succession to the throne fell to the king's assassin. but the flying regicides turned a deaf ear to promises which they regarded as mere baits to lure them back to destruction; they continued their flight, and the shouts and clamour of the barbarians gradually died away in the distance. when kings were bound to suffer death, whether at their own hands or at the hands of others, on the expiration of a fixed term of years, it was natural that they should seek to delegate the painful duty, along with some of the privileges of sovereignty, to a substitute who should suffer vicariously in their stead. this expedient appears to have been resorted to by some of the princes of malabar. thus we are informed by a native authority on that country that "in some places all powers both executive and judicial were delegated for a fixed period to natives by the sovereign. this institution was styled _thalavettiparothiam_ or authority obtained by decapitation. . . . it was an office tenable for five years during which its bearer was invested with supreme despotic powers within his jurisdiction. on the expiry of the five years the man's head was cut off and thrown up in the air amongst a large concourse of villagers, each of whom vied with the other in trying to catch it in its course down. he who succeeded was nominated to the post for the next five years." when once kings, who had hitherto been bound to die a violent death at the end of a term of years, conceived the happy thought of dying by deputy in the persons of others, they would very naturally put it in practice; and accordingly we need not wonder at finding so popular an expedient, or traces of it, in many lands. scandinavian traditions contain some hints that of old the swedish kings reigned only for periods of nine years, after which they were put to death or had to find a substitute to die in their stead. thus aun or on, king of sweden, is said to have sacrificed to odin for length of days and to have been answered by the god that he should live so long as he sacrificed one of his sons every ninth year. he sacrificed nine of them in this manner, and would have sacrificed the tenth and last, but the swedes would not allow him. so he died and was buried in a mound at upsala. another indication of a similar tenure of the crown occurs in a curious legend of the deposition and banishment of odin. offended at his misdeeds, the other gods outlawed and exiled him, but set up in his place a substitute, oller by name, a cunning wizard, to whom they accorded the symbols both of royalty and of godhead. the deputy bore the name of odin, and reigned for nearly ten years, when he was driven from the throne, while the real odin came to his own again. his discomfited rival retired to sweden and was afterwards slain in an attempt to repair his shattered fortunes. as gods are often merely men who loom large through the mists of tradition, we may conjecture that this norse legend preserves a confused reminiscence of ancient swedish kings who reigned for nine or ten years together, then abdicated, delegating to others the privilege of dying for their country. the great festival which was held at upsala every nine years may have been the occasion on which the king or his deputy was put to death. we know that human sacrifices formed part of the rites. there are some grounds for believing that the reign of many ancient greek kings was limited to eight years, or at least that at the end of every period of eight years a new consecration, a fresh outpouring of the divine grace, was regarded as necessary in order to enable them to discharge their civil and religious duties. thus it was a rule of the spartan constitution that every eighth year the ephors should choose a clear and moonless night and sitting down observe the sky in silence. if during their vigil they saw a meteor or shooting star, they inferred that the king had sinned against the deity, and they suspended him from his functions until the delphic or olympic oracle should reinstate him in them. this custom, which has all the air of great antiquity, was not suffered to remain a dead letter even in the last period of the spartan monarchy; for in the third century before our era a king, who had rendered himself obnoxious to the reforming party, was actually deposed on various trumped-up charges, among which the allegation that the ominous sign had been seen in the sky took a prominent place. if the tenure of the regal office was formerly limited among the spartans to eight years, we may naturally ask, why was that precise period selected as the measure of a king's reign? the reason is probably to be found in those astronomical considerations which determined the early greek calendar. the difficulty of reconciling lunar with solar time is one of the standing puzzles which has taxed the ingenuity of men who are emerging from barbarism. now an octennial cycle is the shortest period at the end of which sun and moon really mark time together after overlapping, so to say, throughout the whole of the interval. thus, for example, it is only once in every eight years that the full moon coincides with the longest or shortest day; and as this coincidence can be observed with the aid of a simple dial, the observation is naturally one of the first to furnish a base for a calendar which shall bring lunar and solar times into tolerable, though not exact, harmony. but in early days the proper adjustment of the calendar is a matter of religious concern, since on it depends a knowledge of the right seasons for propitiating the deities whose favour is indispensable to the welfare of the community. no wonder, therefore, that the king, as the chief priest of the state, or as himself a god, should be liable to deposition or death at the end of an astronomical period. when the great luminaries had run their course on high, and were about to renew the heavenly race, it might well be thought that the king should renew his divine energies, or prove them unabated, under pain of making room for a more vigorous successor. in southern india, as we have seen, the king's reign and life terminated with the revolution of the planet jupiter round the sun. in greece, on the other hand, the king's fate seems to have hung in the balance at the end of every eight years, ready to fly up and kick the beam as soon as the opposite scale was loaded with a falling star. whatever its origin may have been, the cycle of eight years appears to have coincided with the normal length of the king's reign in other parts of greece besides sparta. thus minos, king of cnossus in crete, whose great palace has been unearthed in recent years, is said to have held office for periods of eight years together. at the end of each period he retired for a season to the oracular cave on mount ida, and there communed with his divine father zeus, giving him an account of his kingship in the years that were past, and receiving from him instructions for his guidance in those which were to come. the tradition plainly implies that at the end of every eight years the king's sacred powers needed to be renewed by intercourse with the godhead, and that without such a renewal he would have forfeited his right to the throne. without being unduly rash we may surmise that the tribute of seven youths and seven maidens whom the athenians were bound to send to minos every eight years had some connexion with the renewal of the king's power for another octennial cycle. traditions varied as to the fate which awaited the lads and damsels on their arrival in crete; but the common view appears to have been that they were shut up in the labyrinth, there to be devoured by the minotaur, or at least to be imprisoned for life. perhaps they were sacrificed by being roasted alive in a bronze image of a bull, or of a bull-headed man, in order to renew the strength of the king and of the sun, whom he personated. this at all events is suggested by the legend of talos, a bronze man who clutched people to his breast and leaped with them into the fire, so that they were roasted alive. he is said to have been given by zeus to europa, or by hephaestus to minos, to guard the island of crete, which he patrolled thrice daily. according to one account he was a bull, according to another he was the sun. probably he was identical with the minotaur, and stripped of his mythical features was nothing but a bronze image of the sun represented as a man with a bull's head. in order to renew the solar fires, human victims may have been sacrificed to the idol by being roasted in its hollow body or placed on its sloping hands and allowed to roll into a pit of fire. it was in the latter fashion that the carthaginians sacrificed their offspring to moloch. the children were laid on the hands of a calf-headed image of bronze, from which they slid into a fiery oven, while the people danced to the music of flutes and timbrels to drown the shrieks of the burning victims. the resemblance which the cretan traditions bear to the carthaginian practice suggests that the worship associated with the names of minos and the minotaur may have been powerfully influenced by that of a semitic baal. in the tradition of phalaris, tyrant of agrigentum, and his brazen bull we may have an echo of similar rites in sicily, where the carthaginian power struck deep roots. in the province of lagos, the ijebu tribe of the yoruba race is divided into two branches, which are known respectively as the ijebu ode and the ijebu remon. the ode branch of the tribe is ruled by a chief who bears the title of awujale and is surrounded by a great deal of mystery. down to recent times his face might not be seen even by his own subjects, and if circumstances obliged him to communicate with them he did so through a screen which hid him from view. the other or remon branch of the ijebu tribe is governed by a chief, who ranks below the awujale. mr. john parkinson was informed that in former times this subordinate chief used to be killed with ceremony after a rule of three years. as the country is now under british protection the custom of putting the chief to death at the end of a three years' reign has long been abolished, and mr. parkinson was unable to ascertain any particulars on the subject. at babylon, within historical times, the tenure of the kingly office was in practice lifelong, yet in theory it would seem to have been merely annual. for every year at the festival of zagmuk the king had to renew his power by seizing the hands of the image of marduk in his great temple of esagil at babylon. even when babylon passed under the power of assyria, the monarchs of that country were expected to legalise their claim to the throne every year by coming to babylon and performing the ancient ceremony at the new year festival, and some of them found the obligation so burdensome that rather than discharge it they renounced the title of king altogether and contented themselves with the humbler one of governor. further, it would appear that in remote times, though not within the historical period, the kings of babylon or their barbarous predecessors forfeited not merely their crown but their life at the end of a year's tenure of office. at least this is the conclusion to which the following evidence seems to point. according to the historian berosus, who as a babylonian priest spoke with ample knowledge, there was annually celebrated in babylon a festival called the sacaea. it began on the sixteenth day of the month lous, and lasted for five days, during which masters and servants changed places, the servants giving orders and the masters obeying them. a prisoner condemned to death was dressed in the king's robes, seated on the king's throne, allowed to issue whatever commands he pleased, to eat, drink, and enjoy himself, and to lie with the king's concubines. but at the end of the five days he was stripped of his royal robes, scourged, and hanged or impaled. during his brief term of office he bore the title of zoganes. this custom might perhaps have been explained as merely a grim jest perpetrated in a season of jollity at the expense of an unhappy criminal. but one circumstance--the leave given to the mock king to enjoy the king's concubines--is decisive against this interpretation. considering the jealous seclusion of an oriental despot's harem we may be quite certain that permission to invade it would never have been granted by the despot, least of all to a condemned criminal, except for the very gravest cause. this cause could hardly be other than that the condemned man was about to die in the king's stead, and that to make the substitution perfect it was necessary he should enjoy the full rights of royalty during his brief reign. there is nothing surprising in this substitution. the rule that the king must be put to death either on the appearance of any symptom of bodily decay or at the end of a fixed period is certainly one which, sooner or later, the kings would seek to abolish or modify. we have seen that in ethiopia, sofala, and eyeo the rule was boldly set aside by enlightened monarchs; and that in calicut the old custom of killing the king at the end of twelve years was changed into a permission granted to any one at the end of the twelve years' period to attack the king, and, in the event of killing him, to reign in his stead; though, as the king took care at these times to be surrounded by his guards, the permission was little more than a form. another way of modifying the stern old rule is seen in the babylonian custom just described. when the time drew near for the king to be put to death (in babylon this appears to have been at the end of a single year's reign) he abdicated for a few days, during which a temporary king reigned and suffered in his stead. at first the temporary king may have been an innocent person, possibly a member of the king's own family; but with the growth of civilisation the sacrifice of an innocent person would be revolting to the public sentiment, and accordingly a condemned criminal would be invested with the brief and fatal sovereignty. in the sequel we shall find other examples of a dying criminal representing a dying god. for we must not forget that, as the case of the shilluk kings clearly shows, the king is slain in his character of a god or a demigod, his death and resurrection, as the only means of perpetuating the divine life unimpaired, being deemed necessary for the salvation of his people and the world. a vestige of a practice of putting the king to death at the end of a year's reign appears to have survived in the festival called macahity, which used to be celebrated in hawaii during the last month of the year. about a hundred years ago a russian voyager described the custom as follows: "the taboo macahity is not unlike to our festival of christmas. it continues a whole month, during which the people amuse themselves with dances, plays, and sham-fights of every kind. the king must open this festival wherever he is. on this occasion his majesty dresses himself in his richest cloak and helmet, and is paddled in a canoe along the shore, followed sometimes by many of his subjects. he embarks early, and must finish his excursion at sunrise. the strongest and most expert of the warriors is chosen to receive him on his landing. this warrior watches the canoe along the beach; and as soon as the king lands, and has thrown off his cloak, he darts his spear at him, from a distance of about thirty paces, and the king must either catch the spear in his hand, or suffer from it: there is no jesting in the business. having caught it, he carries it under his arm, with the sharp end downwards, into the temple or _heavoo._ on his entrance, the assembled multitude begin their sham-fights, and immediately the air is obscured by clouds of spears, made for the occasion with blunted ends. hamamea [the king] has been frequently advised to abolish this ridiculous ceremony, in which he risks his life every year; but to no effect. his answer always is, that he is as able to catch a spear as any one on the island is to throw it at him. during the macahity, all punishments are remitted throughout the country; and no person can leave the place in which he commences these holidays, let the affair be ever so important." that a king should regularly have been put to death at the close of a year's reign will hardly appear improbable when we learn that to this day there is still a kingdom in which the reign and the life of the sovereign are limited to a single day. in ngoio, a province of the ancient kingdom of congo, the rule obtains that the chief who assumes the cap of sovereignty is always killed on the night after his coronation. the right of succession lies with the chief of the musurongo; but we need not wonder that he does not exercise it, and that the throne stands vacant. "no one likes to lose his life for a few hours' glory on the ngoio throne." xxv. temporary kings in some places the modified form of the old custom of regicide which appears to have prevailed at babylon has been further softened down. the king still abdicates annually for a short time and his place is filled by a more or less nominal sovereign; but at the close of his short reign the latter is no longer killed, though sometimes a mock execution still survives as a memorial of the time when he was actually put to death. to take examples. in the month of méac (february) the king of cambodia annually abdicated for three days. during this time he performed no act of authority, he did not touch the seals, he did not even receive the revenues which fell due. in his stead there reigned a temporary king called sdach méac, that is, king february. the office of temporary king was hereditary in a family distantly connected with the royal house, the sons succeeding the fathers and the younger brothers the elder brothers just as in the succession to the real sovereignty. on a favourable day fixed by the astrologers the temporary king was conducted by the mandarins in triumphal procession. he rode one of the royal elephants, seated in the royal palanquin, and escorted by soldiers who, dressed in appropriate costumes, represented the neighbouring peoples of siam, annam, laos, and so on. in place of the golden crown he wore a peaked white cap, and his regalia, instead of being of gold encrusted with diamonds, were of rough wood. after paying homage to the real king, from whom he received the sovereignty for three days, together with all the revenues accruing during that time (though this last custom has been omitted for some time), he moved in procession round the palace and through the streets of the capital. on the third day, after the usual procession, the temporary king gave orders that the elephants should trample under foot the "mountain of rice," which was a scaffold of bamboo surrounded by sheaves of rice. the people gathered up the rice, each man taking home a little with him to secure a good harvest. some of it was also taken to the king, who had it cooked and presented to the monks. in siam on the sixth day of the moon in the sixth month (the end of april) a temporary king is appointed, who for three days enjoys the royal prerogatives, the real king remaining shut up in his palace. this temporary king sends his numerous satellites in all directions to seize and confiscate whatever they can find in the bazaar and open shops; even the ships and junks which arrive in harbour during the three days are forfeited to him and must be redeemed. he goes to a field in the middle of the city, whither they bring a gilded plough drawn by gaily-decked oxen. after the plough has been anointed and the oxen rubbed with incense, the mock king traces nine furrows with the plough, followed by aged dames of the palace scattering the first seed of the season. as soon as the nine furrows are drawn, the crowd of spectators rushes in and scrambles for the seed which has just been sown, believing that, mixed with the seed-rice, it will ensure a plentiful crop. then the oxen are unyoked, and rice, maize, sesame, sago, bananas, sugar-cane, melons, and so on, are set before them; whatever they eat first will, it is thought, be dear in the year following, though some people interpret the omen in the opposite sense. during this time the temporary king stands leaning against a tree with his right foot resting on his left knee. from standing thus on one foot he is popularly known as king hop; but his official title is phaya phollathep "lord of the heavenly hosts." he is a sort of minister of agriculture; all disputes about fields, rice, and so forth, are referred to him. there is moreover another ceremony in which he personates the king. it takes place in the second month (which falls in the cold season) and lasts three days. he is conducted in procession to an open place opposite the temple of the brahmans, where there are a number of poles dressed like may-poles, upon which the brahmans swing. all the while that they swing and dance, the lord of the heavenly hosts has to stand on one foot upon a seat which is made of bricks plastered over, covered with a white cloth, and hung with tapestry. he is supported by a wooden frame with a gilt canopy, and two brahmans stand one on each side of him. the dancing brahmans carry buffalo horns with which they draw water from a large copper caldron and sprinkle it on the spectators; this is supposed to bring good luck, causing the people to dwell in peace and quiet, health and prosperity. the time during which the lord of the heavenly hosts has to stand on one foot is about three hours. this is thought "to prove the dispositions of the devattas and spirits." if he lets his foot down "he is liable to forfeit his property and have his family enslaved by the king, as it is believed to be a bad omen, portending destruction to the state, and instability to the throne. but if he stand firm he is believed to have gained a victory over evil spirits, and he has moreover the privilege, ostensibly at least, of seizing any ship which may enter the harbour during these three days, and taking its contents, and also of entering any open shop in the town and carrying away what he chooses." such were the duties and privileges of the siamese king hop down to about the middle of the nineteenth century or later. under the reign of the late enlightened monarch this quaint personage was to some extent both shorn of the glories and relieved of the burden of his office. he still watches, as of old, the brahmans rushing through the air in a swing suspended between two tall masts, each some ninety feet high; but he is allowed to sit instead of stand, and, although public opinion still expects him to keep his right foot on his left knee during the whole of the ceremony, he would incur no legal penalty were he, to the great chagrin of the people, to put his weary foot to the ground. other signs, too, tell of the invasion of the east by the ideas and civilisation of the west. the thoroughfares that lead to the scene of the performance are blocked with carriages: lamp-posts and telegraph posts, to which eager spectators cling like monkeys, rise above the dense crowd; and, while a tatterdemalion band of the old style, in gaudy garb of vermilion and yellow, bangs and tootles away on drums and trumpets of an antique pattern, the procession of barefooted soldiers in brilliant uniforms steps briskly along to the lively strains of a modern military band playing "marching through georgia." on the first day of the sixth month, which was regarded as the beginning of the year, the king and people of samarcand used to put on new clothes and cut their hair and beards. then they repaired to a forest near the capital where they shot arrows on horseback for seven days. on the last day the target was a gold coin, and he who hit it had the right to be king for one day. in upper egypt on the first day of the solar year by coptic reckoning, that is, on the tenth of september, when the nile has generally reached its highest point, the regular government is suspended for three days and every town chooses its own ruler. this temporary lord wears a sort of tall fool's cap and a long flaxen beard, and is enveloped in a strange mantle. with a wand of office in his hand and attended by men disguised as scribes, executioners, and so forth, he proceeds to the governor's house. the latter allows himself to be deposed; and the mock king, mounting the throne, holds a tribunal, to the decisions of which even the governor and his officials must bow. after three days the mock king is condemned to death; the envelope or shell in which he was encased is committed to the flames, and from its ashes the fellah creeps forth. the custom perhaps points to an old practice of burning a real king in grim earnest. in uganda the brothers of the king used to be burned, because it was not lawful to shed the royal blood. the mohammedan students of fez, in morocco, are allowed to appoint a sultan of their own, who reigns for a few weeks, and is known as _sultan t-tulba,_ "the sultan of the scribes." this brief authority is put up for auction and knocked down to the highest bidder. it brings some substantial privileges with it, for the holder is freed from taxes thenceforward, and he has the right of asking a favour from the real sultan. that favour is seldom refused; it usually consists in the release of a prisoner. moreover, the agents of the student-sultan levy fines on the shopkeepers and householders, against whom they trump up various humorous charges. the temporary sultan is surrounded with the pomp of a real court, and parades the streets in state with music and shouting, while a royal umbrella is held over his head. with the so-called fines and free-will offerings, to which the real sultan adds a liberal supply of provisions, the students have enough to furnish forth a magnificent banquet; and altogether they enjoy themselves thoroughly, indulging in all kinds of games and amusements. for the first seven days the mock sultan remains in the college; then he goes about a mile out of the town and encamps on the bank of the river, attended by the students and not a few of the citizens. on the seventh day of his stay outside the town he is visited by the real sultan, who grants him his request and gives him seven more days to reign, so that the reign of "the sultan of the scribes" nominally lasts three weeks. but when six days of the last week have passed the mock sultan runs back to the town by night. this temporary sultanship always falls in spring, about the beginning of april. its origin is said to have been as follows. when mulai rasheed ii. was fighting for the throne in or , a certain jew usurped the royal authority at taza. but the rebellion was soon suppressed through the loyalty and devotion of the students. to effect their purpose they resorted to an ingenious stratagem. forty of them caused themselves to be packed in chests which were sent as a present to the usurper. in the dead of night, while the unsuspecting jew was slumbering peacefully among the packing-cases, the lids were stealthily raised, the brave forty crept forth, slew the usurper, and took possession of the city in the name of the real sultan, who, to mark his gratitude for the help thus rendered him in time of need, conferred on the students the right of annually appointing a sultan of their own. the narrative has all the air of a fiction devised to explain an old custom, of which the real meaning and origin had been forgotten. a custom of annually appointing a mock king for a single day was observed at lostwithiel in cornwall down to the sixteenth century. on "little easter sunday" the freeholders of the town and manor assembled together, either in person or by their deputies, and one among them, as it fell to his lot by turn, gaily attired and gallantly mounted, with a crown on his head, a sceptre in his hand, and a sword borne before him, rode through the principal street to the church, dutifully attended by all the rest on horseback. the clergyman in his best robes received him at the churchyard stile and conducted him to hear divine service. on leaving the church he repaired, with the same pomp, to a house provided for his reception. here a feast awaited him and his suite, and being set at the head of the table he was served on bended knees, with all the rites due to the estate of a prince. the ceremony ended with the dinner, and every man returned home. sometimes the temporary king occupies the throne, not annually, but once for all at the beginning of each reign. thus in the kingdom of jambi in sumatra it is the custom that at the beginning of a new reign a man of the people should occupy the throne and exercise the royal prerogatives for a single day. the origin of the custom is explained by a tradition that there were once five royal brothers, the four elder of whom all declined the throne on the ground of various bodily defects, leaving it to their youngest brother. but the eldest occupied the throne for one day, and reserved for his descendants a similar privilege at the beginning of every reign. thus the office of temporary king is hereditary in a family akin to the royal house. in bilaspur it seems to be the custom, after the death of a rajah, for a brahman to eat rice out of the dead rajah's hand, and then to occupy the throne for a year. at the end of the year the brahman receives presents and is dismissed from the territory, being forbidden apparently to return. "the idea seems to be that the spirit of the rájá enters into the bráhman who eats the _khir_ (rice and milk) out of his hand when he is dead, as the brahman is apparently carefully watched during the whole year, and not allowed to go away." the same or a similar custom is believed to obtain among the hill states about kangra. the custom of banishing the brahman who represents the king may be a substitute for putting him to death. at the installation of a prince of carinthia a peasant, in whose family the office was hereditary, ascended a marble stone which stood surrounded by meadows in a spacious valley; on his right stood a black mother-cow, on his left a lean ugly mare. a rustic crowd gathered about him. then the future prince, dressed as a peasant and carrying a shepherd's staff, drew near, attended by courtiers and magistrates. on perceiving him the peasant called out, "who is this whom i see coming so proudly along?" the people answered, "the prince of the land." the peasant was then prevailed on to surrender the marble seat to the prince on condition of receiving sixty pence, the cow and mare, and exemption from taxes. but before yielding his place he gave the prince a light blow on the cheek. some points about these temporary kings deserve to be specially noticed before we pass to the next branch of the evidence. in the first place, the cambodian and siamese examples show clearly that it is especially the divine or magical functions of the king which are transferred to his temporary substitute. this appears from the belief that by keeping up his foot the temporary king of siam gained a victory over the evil spirits, whereas by letting it down he imperilled the existence of the state. again, the cambodian ceremony of trampling down the "mountain of rice," and the siamese ceremony of opening the ploughing and sowing, are charms to produce a plentiful harvest, as appears from the belief that those who carry home some of the trampled rice, or of the seed sown, will thereby secure a good crop. moreover, when the siamese representative of the king is guiding the plough, the people watch him anxiously, not to see whether he drives a straight furrow, but to mark the exact point on his leg to which the skirt of his silken robe reaches; for on that is supposed to hang the state of the weather and the crops during the ensuing season. if the lord of the heavenly hosts hitches up his garment above his knee, the weather will be wet and heavy rains will spoil the harvest. if he lets it trail to his ankle, a drought will be the consequence. but fine weather and heavy crops will follow if the hem of his robe hangs exactly half-way down the calf of his leg. so closely is the course of nature, and with it the weal or woe of the people, dependent on the minutest act or gesture of the king's representative. but the task of making the crops grow, thus deputed to the temporary kings, is one of the magical functions regularly supposed to be discharged by kings in primitive society. the rule that the mock king must stand on one foot upon a raised seat in the rice-field was perhaps originally meant as a charm to make the crop grow high; at least this was the object of a similar ceremony observed by the old prussians. the tallest girl, standing on one foot upon a seat, with her lap full of cakes, a cup of brandy in her right hand and a piece of elm-bark or linden-bark in her left, prayed to the god waizganthos that the flax might grow as high as she was standing. then, after draining the cup, she had it refilled, and poured the brandy on the ground as an offering to waizganthos, and threw down the cakes for his attendant sprites. if she remained steady on one foot throughout the ceremony, it was an omen that the flax crop would be good; but if she let her foot down, it was feared that the crop might fail. the same significance perhaps attaches to the swinging of the brahmans, which the lord of the heavenly hosts had formerly to witness standing on one foot. on the principles of homoeopathic or imitative magic it might be thought that the higher the priests swing the higher will grow the rice. for the ceremony is described as a harvest festival, and swinging is practised by the letts of russia with the avowed intention of influencing the growth of the crops. in the spring and early summer, between easter and st. john's day (the summer solstice), every lettish peasant is said to devote his leisure hours to swinging diligently; for the higher he rises in the air the higher will his flax grow that season. in the foregoing cases the temporary king is appointed annually in accordance with a regular custom. but in other cases the appointment is made only to meet a special emergency, such as to relieve the real king from some actual or threatened evil by diverting it to a substitute, who takes his place on the throne for a short time. the history of persia furnishes instances of such occasional substitutes for the shah. thus shah abbas the great, being warned by his astrologers in the year that a serious danger impended over him, attempted to avert the omen by abdicating the throne and appointing a certain unbeliever named yusoofee, probably a christian, to reign in his stead. the substitute was accordingly crowned, and for three days, if we may trust the persian historians, he enjoyed not only the name and the state but the power of the king. at the end of his brief reign he was put to death: the decree of the stars was fulfilled by this sacrifice; and abbas, who reascended his throne in a most propitious hour, was promised by his astrologers a long and glorious reign. xxvi. sacrifice of the king's son a point to notice about the temporary kings described in the foregoing chapter is that in two places (cambodia and jambi) they come of a stock which is believed to be akin to the royal family. if the view here taken of the origin of these temporary kingships is correct, we can easily understand why the king's substitute should sometimes be of the same race as the king. when the king first succeeded in getting the life of another accepted as a sacrifice instead of his own, he would have to show that the death of that other would serve the purpose quite as well as his own would have done. now it was as a god or demigod that the king had to die; therefore the substitute who died for him had to be invested, at least for the occasion, with the divine attributes of the king. this, as we have just seen, was certainly the case with the temporary kings of siam and cambodia; they were invested with the supernatural functions, which in an earlier stage of society were the special attributes of the king. but no one could so well represent the king in his divine character as his son, who might be supposed to share the divine afflatus of his father. no one, therefore, could so appropriately die for the king and, through him, for the whole people, as the king's son. we have seen that according to tradition, aun or on, king of sweden, sacrificed nine of his sons to odin at upsala in order that his own life might be spared. after he had sacrificed his second son he received from the god an answer that he should live so long as he gave him one of his sons every ninth year. when he had sacrificed his seventh son, he still lived, but was so feeble that he could not walk but had to be carried in a chair. then he offered up his eighth son, and lived nine years more, lying in his bed. after that he sacrificed his ninth son, and lived another nine years, but so that he drank out of a horn like a weaned child. he now wished to sacrifice his only remaining son to odin, but the swedes would not allow him. so he died and was buried in a mound at upsala. in ancient greece there seems to have been at least one kingly house of great antiquity of which the eldest sons were always liable to be sacrificed in room of their royal sires. when xerxes was marching through thessaly at the head of his mighty host to attack the spartans at thermopylae, he came to the town of alus. here he was shown the sanctuary of laphystian zeus, about which his guides told him a strange tale. it ran somewhat as follows. once upon a time the king of the country, by name athamas, married a wife nephele, and had by her a son called phrixus and a daughter named helle. afterwards he took to himself a second wife called ino, by whom he had two sons, learchus and melicertes. but his second wife was jealous of her stepchildren, phrixus and helle, and plotted their death. she went about very cunningly to compass her bad end. first of all she persuaded the women of the country to roast the seed corn secretly before it was committed to the ground. so next year no crops came up and the people died of famine. then the king sent messengers to the oracle at delphi to enquire the cause of the dearth. but the wicked stepmother bribed the messenger to give out as the answer of the god that the dearth would never cease till the children of athamas by his first wife had been sacrificed to zeus. when athamas heard that, he sent for the children, who were with the sheep. but a ram with a fleece of gold opened his lips, and speaking with the voice of a man warned the children of their danger. so they mounted the ram and fled with him over land and sea. as they flew over the sea, the girl slipped from the animal's back, and falling into water was drowned. but her brother phrixus was brought safe to the land of colchis, where reigned a child of the sun. phrixus married the king's daughter, and she bore him a son cytisorus. and there he sacrificed the ram with the golden fleece to zeus the god of flight; but some will have it that he sacrificed the animal to laphystian zeus. the golden fleece itself he gave to his wife's father, who nailed it to an oak tree, guarded by a sleepless dragon in a sacred grove of ares. meanwhile at home an oracle had commanded that king athamas himself should be sacrificed as an expiatory offering for the whole country. so the people decked him with garlands like a victim and led him to the altar, where they were just about to sacrifice him when he was rescued either by his grandson cytisorus, who arrived in the nick of time from colchis, or by hercules, who brought tidings that the king's son phrixus was yet alive. thus athamas was saved, but afterward he went mad, and mistaking his son learchus for a wild beast, shot him dead. next he attempted the life of his remaining son melicertes, but the child was rescued by his mother ino, who ran and threw herself and him from a high rock into the sea. mother and son were changed into marine divinities, and the son received special homage in the isle of tenedos, where babes were sacrificed to him. thus bereft of wife and children the unhappy athamas quitted his country, and on enquiring of the oracle where he should dwell was told to take up his abode wherever he should be entertained by wild beasts. he fell in with a pack of wolves devouring sheep, and when they saw him they fled and left him the bleeding remnants of their prey. in this way the oracle was fulfilled. but because king athamas had not been sacrificed as a sin-offering for the whole country, it was divinely decreed that the eldest male scion of his family in each generation should be sacrificed without fail, if ever he set foot in the town-hall, where the offerings were made to laphystian zeus by one of the house of athamas. many of the family, xerxes was informed, had fled to foreign lands to escape this doom; but some of them had returned long afterwards, and being caught by the sentinels in the act of entering the town-hall were wreathed as victims, led forth in procession, and sacrificed. these instances appear to have been notorious, if not frequent; for the writer of a dialogue attributed to plato, after speaking of the immolation of human victims by the carthaginians, adds that such practices were not unknown among the greeks, and he refers with horror to the sacrifices offered on mount lycaeus and by the descendants of athamas. the suspicion that this barbarous custom by no means fell into disuse even in later days is strengthened by a case of human sacrifice which occurred in plutarch's time at orchomenus, a very ancient city of boeotia, distant only a few miles across the plain from the historian's birthplace. here dwelt a family of which the men went by the name of psoloeis or "sooty," and the women by the name of oleae or "destructive." every year at the festival of the agrionia the priest of dionysus pursued these women with a drawn sword, and if he overtook one of them he had the right to slay her. in plutarch's lifetime the right was actually exercised by a priest zoilus. the family thus liable to furnish at least one human victim every year was of royal descent, for they traced their lineage to minyas, the famous old king of orchomenus, the monarch of fabulous wealth, whose stately treasury, as it is called, still stands in ruins at the point where the long rocky hill of orchomenus melts into the vast level expanse of the copaic plain. tradition ran that the king's three daughters long despised the other women of the country for yielding to the bacchic frenzy, and sat at home in the king's house scornfully plying the distaff and the loom, while the rest, wreathed with flowers, their dishevelled locks streaming to the wind, roamed in ecstasy the barren mountains that rise above orchomenus, making the solitude of the hills to echo to the wild music of cymbals and tambourines. but in time the divine fury infected even the royal damsels in their quiet chamber; they were seized with a fierce longing to partake of human flesh, and cast lots among themselves which should give up her child to furnish a cannibal feast. the lot fell on leucippe, and she surrendered her son hippasus, who was torn limb from limb by the three. from these misguided women sprang the oleae and the psoloeis, of whom the men were said to be so called because they wore sad-coloured raiment in token of their mourning and grief. now this practice of taking human victims from a family of royal descent at orchomenus is all the more significant because athamas himself is said to have reigned in the land of orchomenus even before the time of minyas, and because over against the city there rises mount laphystius, on which, as at alus in thessaly, there was a sanctuary of laphystian zeus, where, according to tradition, athamas purposed to sacrifice his two children phrixus and helle. on the whole, comparing the traditions about athamas with the custom that obtained with regard to his descendants in historical times, we may fairly infer that in thessaly and probably in boeotia there reigned of old a dynasty of which the kings were liable to be sacrificed for the good of the country to the god called laphystian zeus, but that they contrived to shift the fatal responsibility to their offspring, of whom the eldest son was regularly destined to the altar. as time went on, the cruel custom was so far mitigated that a ram was accepted as a vicarious sacrifice in room of the royal victim, provided always that the prince abstained from setting foot in the town-hall where the sacrifices were offered to laphystian zeus by one of his kinsmen. but if he were rash enough to enter the place of doom, to thrust himself wilfully, as it were, on the notice of the god who had good-naturedly winked at the substitution of a ram, the ancient obligation which had been suffered to lie in abeyance recovered all its force, and there was no help for it but he must die. the tradition which associated the sacrifice of the king or his children with a great dearth points clearly to the belief, so common among primitive folk, that the king is responsible for the weather and the crops, and that he may justly pay with his life for the inclemency of the one or the failure of the other. athamas and his line, in short, appear to have united divine or magical with royal functions; and this view is strongly supported by the claims to divinity which salmoneus, the brother of athamas, is said to have set up. we have seen that this presumptuous mortal professed to be no other than zeus himself, and to wield the thunder and lightning, of which he made a trumpery imitation by the help of tinkling kettles and blazing torches. if we may judge from analogy, his mock thunder and lightning were no mere scenic exhibition designed to deceive and impress the beholders; they were enchantments practised by the royal magician for the purpose of bringing about the celestial phenomena which they feebly mimicked. among the semites of western asia the king, in a time of national danger, sometimes gave his own son to die as a sacrifice for the people. thus philo of byblus, in his work on the jews, says: "it was an ancient custom in a crisis of great danger that the ruler of a city or nation should give his beloved son to die for the whole people, as a ransom offered to the avenging demons; and the children thus offered were slain with mystic rites. so cronus, whom the phoenicians call israel, being king of the land and having an only-begotten son called jeoud (for in the phoenician tongue jeoud signifies 'only begotten'), dressed him in royal robes and sacrificed him upon an altar in a time of war, when the country was in great danger from the enemy." when the king of moab was besieged by the israelites and hard beset, he took his eldest son, who should have reigned in his stead, and offered him for a burnt offering on the wall. xxvii. succession to the soul to the view that in early times, and among barbarous races, kings have frequently been put to death at the end of a short reign, it may be objected that such a custom would tend to the extinction of the royal family. the objection may be met by observing, first, that the kingship is often not confined to one family, but may be shared in turn by several; second, that the office is frequently not hereditary, but is open to men of any family, even to foreigners, who may fulfil the requisite conditions, such as marrying a princess or vanquishing the king in battle; and, third, that even if the custom did tend to the extinction of a dynasty, that is not a consideration which would prevent its observance among people less provident of the future and less heedful of human life than ourselves. many races, like many individuals, have indulged in practices which must in the end destroy them. the polynesians seem regularly to have killed two-thirds of their children. in some parts of east africa the proportion of infants massacred at birth is said to be the same. only children born in certain presentations are allowed to live. the jagas, a conquering tribe in angola, are reported to have put to death all their children, without exception, in order that the women might not be cumbered with babies on the march. they recruited their numbers by adopting boys and girls of thirteen or fourteen years of age, whose parents they had killed and eaten. among the mbaya indians of south america the women used to murder all their children except the last, or the one they believed to be the last. if one of them had another child afterwards, she killed it. we need not wonder that this practice entirely destroyed a branch of the mbaya nation, who had been for many years the most formidable enemies of the spaniards. among the lengua indians of the gran chaco, the missionaries discovered what they describe as "a carefully planned system of racial suicide, by the practice of infanticide by abortion, and other methods." nor is infanticide the only mode in which a savage tribe commits suicide. a lavish use of the poison ordeal may be equally effective. some time ago a small tribe named uwet came down from the hill country, and settled on the left branch of the calabar river in west africa. when the missionaries first visited the place, they found the population considerable, distributed into three villages. since then the constant use of the poison ordeal has almost extinguished the tribe. on one occasion the whole population took poison to prove their innocence. about half perished on the spot, and the remnant, we are told, still continuing their superstitious practice, must soon become extinct. with such examples before us we need not hesitate to believe that many tribes have felt no scruple or delicacy in observing a custom which tends to wipe out a single family. to attribute such scruples to them is to commit the common, the perpetually repeated mistake of judging the savage by the standard of european civilisation. if any of my readers set out with the notion that all races of men think and act much in the same way as educated englishmen, the evidence of superstitious belief and custom collected in this work should suffice to disabuse him of so erroneous a prepossession. the explanation here given of the custom of killing divine persons assumes, or at least is readily combined with, the idea that the soul of the slain divinity is transmitted to his successor. of this transmission i have no direct proof except in the case of the shilluk, among whom the practice of killing the divine king prevails in a typical form, and with whom it is a fundamental article of faith that the soul of the divine founder of the dynasty is immanent in every one of his slain successors. but if this is the only actual example of such a belief which i can adduce, analogy seems to render it probable that a similar succession to the soul of the slain god has been supposed to take place in other instances, though direct evidence of it is wanting. for it has been already shown that the soul of the incarnate deity is often supposed to transmigrate at death into another incarnation; and if this takes place when the death is a natural one, there seems no reason why it should not take place when the death has been brought about by violence. certainly the idea that the soul of a dying person may be transmitted to his successor is perfectly familiar to primitive peoples. in nias the eldest son usually succeeds his father in the chieftainship. but if from any bodily or mental defect the eldest son is disqualified for ruling, the father determines in his lifetime which of his sons shall succeed him. in order, however, to establish his right of succession, it is necessary that the son upon whom his father's choice falls shall catch in his mouth or in a bag the last breath, and with it the soul, of the dying chief. for whoever catches his last breath is chief equally with the appointed successor. hence the other brothers, and sometimes also strangers, crowd round the dying man to catch his soul as it passes. the houses in nias are raised above the ground on posts, and it has happened that when the dying man lay with his face on the floor, one of the candidates has bored a hole in the floor and sucked in the chief's last breath through a bamboo tube. when the chief has no son, his soul is caught in a bag, which is fastened to an image made to represent the deceased; the soul is then believed to pass into the image. sometimes it would appear that the spiritual link between a king and the souls of his predecessors is formed by the possession of some part of their persons. in southern celebes the regalia often consist of corporeal portions of deceased rajahs, which are treasured as sacred relics and confer the right to the throne. similarly among the sakalavas of southern madagascar a vertebra of the neck, a nail, and a lock of hair of a deceased king are placed in a crocodile's tooth and carefully kept along with the similar relics of his predecessors in a house set apart for the purpose. the possession of these relics constitutes the right to the throne. a legitimate heir who should be deprived of them would lose all his authority over the people, and on the contrary a usurper who should make himself master of the relics would be acknowledged king without dispute. when the alake or king of abeokuta in west africa dies, the principal men decapitate his body, and placing the head in a large earthen vessel deliver it to the new sovereign; it becomes his fetish and he is bound to pay it honours. sometimes, in order apparently that the new sovereign may inherit more surely the magical and other virtues of the royal line, he is required to eat a piece of his dead predecessor. thus at abeokuta not only was the head of the late king presented to his successor, but the tongue was cut out and given him to eat. hence, when the natives wish to signify that the sovereign reigns, they say, "he has eaten the king." a custom of the same sort is still practised at ibadan, a large town in the interior of lagos, west africa. when the king dies his head is cut off and sent to his nominal suzerain, the alafin of oyo, the paramount king of yoruba land; but his heart is eaten by his successor. this ceremony was performed not very many years ago at the accession of a new king of ibadan. taking the whole of the preceding evidence into account, we may fairly suppose that when the divine king or priest is put to death his spirit is believed to pass into his successor. in point of fact, among the shilluk of the white nile, who regularly kill their divine kings, every king on his accession has to perform a ceremony which appears designed to convey to him the same sacred and worshipful spirit which animated all his predecessors, one after the other, on the throne. xxviii. the killing of the tree-spirit . the whitsuntide mummers it remains to ask what light the custom of killing the divine king or priest sheds upon the special subject to our enquiry. in an earlier part of this work we saw reason to suppose that the king of the wood at nemi was regarded as an incarnation of a tree-spirit or of the spirit of vegetation, and that as such he would be endowed, in the belief of his worshippers, with a magical power of making the trees to bear fruit, the crops to grow, and so on. his life must therefore have been held very precious by his worshippers, and was probably hedged in by a system of elaborate precautions or taboos like those by which, in so many places, the life of the man-god has been guarded against the malignant influence of demons and sorcerers. but we have seen that the very value attached to the life of the man-god necessitates his violent death as the only means of preserving it from the inevitable decay of age. the same reasoning would apply to the king of the wood; he, too, had to be killed in order that the divine spirit, incarnate in him, might be transferred in its integrity to his successor. the rule that he held office till a stronger should slay him might be supposed to secure both the preservation of his divine life in full vigour and its transference to a suitable successor as soon as that vigour began to be impaired. for so long as he could maintain his position by the strong hand, it might be inferred that his natural force was not abated; whereas his defeat and death at the hands of another proved that his strength was beginning to fail and that it was time his divine life should be lodged in a less dilapidated tabernacle. this explanation of the rule that the king of the wood had to be slain by his successor at least renders that rule perfectly intelligible. it is strongly supported by the theory and practice of the shilluk, who put their divine king to death at the first signs of failing health, lest his decrepitude should entail a corresponding failure of vital energy on the corn, the cattle, and men. moreover, it is countenanced by the analogy of the chitomé, upon whose life the existence of the world was supposed to hang, and who was therefore slain by his successor as soon as he showed signs of breaking up. again, the terms on which in later times the king of calicut held office are identical with those attached to the office of king of the wood, except that whereas the former might be assailed by a candidate at any time, the king of calicut might only be attacked once every twelve years. but as the leave granted to the king of calicut to reign so long as he could defend himself against all comers was a mitigation of the old rule which set a fixed term to his life, so we may conjecture that the similar permission granted to the king of the wood was a mitigation of an older custom of putting him to death at the end of a definite period. in both cases the new rule gave to the god-man at least a chance for his life, which under the old rule was denied him; and people probably reconciled themselves to the change by reflecting that so long as the god-man could maintain himself by the sword against all assaults, there was no reason to apprehend that the fatal decay had set in. the conjecture that the king of the wood was formerly put to death at the expiry of a fixed term, without being allowed a chance for his life, will be confirmed if evidence can be adduced of a custom of periodically killing his counterparts, the human representatives of the tree-spirit, in northern europe. now in point of fact such a custom has left unmistakable traces of itself in the rural festivals of the peasantry. to take examples. at niederpöring, in lower bavaria, the whitsuntide representative of the tree-spirit--the _pfingstl_ as he was called--was clad from top to toe in leaves and flowers. on his head he wore a high pointed cap, the ends of which rested on his shoulders, only two holes being left in it for his eyes. the cap was covered with water-flowers and surmounted with a nosegay of peonies. the sleeves of his coat were also made of water-plants, and the rest of his body was enveloped in alder and hazel leaves. on each side of him marched a boy holding up one of the _pfingstl's_ arms. these two boys carried drawn swords, and so did most of the others who formed the procession. they stopped at every house where they hoped to receive a present; and the people, in hiding, soused the leaf-clad boy with water. all rejoiced when he was well drenched. finally he waded into the brook up to his middle; whereupon one of the boys, standing on the bridge, pretended to cut off his head. at wurmlingen, in swabia, a score of young fellows dress themselves on whit-monday in white shirts and white trousers, with red scarves round their waists and swords hanging from the scarves. they ride on horseback into the wood, led by two trumpeters blowing their trumpets. in the wood they cut down leafy oak branches, in which they envelop from head to foot him who was the last of their number to ride out of the village. his legs, however, are encased separately, so that he may be able to mount his horse again. further, they give him a long artificial neck, with an artificial head and a false face on the top of it. then a may-tree is cut, generally an aspen or beech about ten feet high; and being decked with coloured handkerchiefs and ribbons it is entrusted to a special "may-bearer." the cavalcade then returns with music and song to the village. amongst the personages who figure in the procession are a moorish king with a sooty face and a crown on his head, a dr. iron-beard, a corporal, and an executioner. they halt on the village green, and each of the characters makes a speech in rhyme. the executioner announces that the leaf-clad man has been condemned to death, and cuts off his false head. then the riders race to the may-tree, which has been set up a little way off. the first man who succeeds in wrenching it from the ground as he gallops past keeps it with all its decorations. the ceremony is observed every second or third year. in saxony and thüringen there is a whitsuntide ceremony called "chasing the wild man out of the bush," or "fetching the wild man out of the wood." a young fellow is enveloped in leaves or moss and called the wild man. he hides in the wood and the other lads of the village go out to seek him. they find him, lead him captive out of the wood, and fire at him with blank muskets. he falls like dead to the ground, but a lad dressed as a doctor bleeds him, and he comes to life again. at this they rejoice, and, binding him fast on a waggon, take him to the village, where they tell all the people how they have caught the wild man. at every house they receive a gift. in the erzgebirge the following custom was annually observed at shrovetide about the beginning of the seventeenth century. two men disguised as wild men, the one in brushwood and moss, the other in straw, were led about the streets, and at last taken to the market-place, where they were chased up and down, shot and stabbed. before falling they reeled about with strange gestures and spirted blood on the people from bladders which they carried. when they were down, the huntsmen placed them on boards and carried them to the ale-house, the miners marching beside them and winding blasts on their mining tools as if they had taken a noble head of game. a very similar shrovetide custom is still observed near schluckenau in bohemia. a man dressed up as a wild man is chased through several streets till he comes to a narrow lane across which a cord is stretched. he stumbles over the cord and, falling to the ground, is overtaken and caught by his pursuers. the executioner runs up and stabs with his sword a bladder filled with blood which the wild man wears round his body; so the wild man dies, while a stream of blood reddens the ground. next day a straw-man, made up to look like the wild man, is placed on a litter, and, accompanied by a great crowd, is taken to a pool into which it is thrown by the executioner. the ceremony is called "burying the carnival." in semic (bohemia) the custom of beheading the king is observed on whit-monday. a troop of young people disguise themselves; each is girt with a girdle of bark and carries a wooden sword and a trumpet of willow-bark. the king wears a robe of tree-bark adorned with flowers, on his head is a crown of bark decked with flowers and branches, his feet are wound about with ferns, a mask hides his face, and for a sceptre he has a hawthorn switch in his hand. a lad leads him through the village by a rope fastened to his foot, while the rest dance about, blow their trumpets, and whistle. in every farmhouse the king is chased round the room, and one of the troop, amid much noise and outcry, strikes with his sword a blow on the king's robe of bark till it rings again. then a gratuity is demanded. the ceremony of decapitation, which is here somewhat slurred over, is carried out with a greater semblance of reality in other parts of bohemia. thus in some villages of the königgrätz district on whit-monday the girls assemble under one lime-tree and the young men under another, all dressed in their best and tricked out with ribbons. the young men twine a garland for the queen, and the girls another for the king. when they have chosen the king and queen they all go in procession two and two, to the ale-house, from the balcony of which the crier proclaims the names of the king and queen. both are then invested with the insignia of their office and are crowned with the garlands, while the music plays up. then some one gets on a bench and accuses the king of various offences, such as ill-treating the cattle. the king appeals to witnesses and a trial ensues, at the close of which the judge, who carries a white wand as his badge of office, pronounces a verdict of "guilty," or "not guilty." if the verdict is "guilty," the judge breaks his wand, the king kneels on a white cloth, all heads are bared, and a soldier sets three or four hats, one above the other, on his majesty's head. the judge then pronounces the word "guilty" thrice in a loud voice, and orders the crier to behead the king. the crier obeys by striking off the king's hats with the wooden sword. but perhaps, for our purpose, the most instructive of these mimic executions is the following bohemian one. in some places of the pilsen district (bohemia) on whit-monday the king is dressed in bark, ornamented with flowers and ribbons; he wears a crown of gilt paper and rides a horse, which is also decked with flowers. attended by a judge, an executioner, and other characters, and followed by a train of soldiers, all mounted, he rides to the village square, where a hut or arbour of green boughs has been erected under the may-trees, which are firs, freshly cut, peeled to the top, and dressed with flowers and ribbons. after the dames and maidens of the village have been criticised and a frog beheaded, the cavalcade rides to a place previously determined upon, in a straight, broad street. here they draw up in two lines and the king takes to flight. he is given a short start and rides off at full speed, pursued by the whole troop. if they fail to catch him he remains king for another year, and his companions must pay his score at the ale-house in the evening. but if they overtake and catch him he is scourged with hazel rods or beaten with the wooden swords and compelled to dismount. then the executioner asks, "shall i behead this king?" the answer is given, "behead him"; the executioner brandishes his axe, and with the words, "one, two, three, let the king headless be!" he strikes off the king's crown. amid the loud cries of the bystanders the king sinks to the ground; then he is laid on a bier and carried to the nearest farmhouse. in most of the personages who are thus slain in mimicry it is impossible not to recognise representatives of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation, as he is supposed to manifest himself in spring. the bark, leaves, and flowers in which the actors are dressed, and the season of the year at which they appear, show that they belong to the same class as the grass king, king of the may, jack-in-the-green, and other representatives of the vernal spirit of vegetation which we examined in an earlier part of this work. as if to remove any possible doubt on this head, we find that in two cases these slain men are brought into direct connexion with may-trees, which are the impersonal, as the may king, grass king, and so forth, are the personal representatives of the tree-spirit. the drenching of the _pfingstl_ with water and his wading up to the middle into the brook are, therefore, no doubt rain-charms like those which have been already described. but if these personages represent, as they certainly do, the spirit of vegetation in spring, the question arises, why kill them? what is the object of slaying the spirit of vegetation at any time and above all in spring, when his services are most wanted? the only probable answer to this question seems to be given in the explanation already proposed of the custom of killing the divine king or priest. the divine life, incarnate in a material and mortal body, is liable to be tainted and corrupted by the weakness of the frail medium in which it is for a time enshrined; and if it is to be saved from the increasing enfeeblement which it must necessarily share with its human incarnation as he advances in years, it must be detached from him before, or at least as soon as, he exhibits signs of decay, in order to be transferred to a vigorous successor. this is done by killing the old representative of the god and conveying the divine spirit from him to a new incarnation. the killing of the god, that is, of his human incarnation, is therefore merely a necessary step to his revival or resurrection in a better form. far from being an extinction of the divine spirit, it is only the beginning of a purer and stronger manifestation of it. if this explanation holds good of the custom of killing divine kings and priests in general, it is still more obviously applicable to the custom of annually killing the representative of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation in spring. for the decay of plant life in winter is readily interpreted by primitive man as an enfeeblement of the spirit of vegetation; the spirit has, he thinks, grown old and weak and must therefore be renovated by being slain and brought to life in a younger and fresher form. thus the killing of the representative of the tree-spirit in spring is regarded as a means to promote and quicken the growth of vegetation. for the killing of the tree-spirit is associated always (we must suppose) implicitly, and sometimes explicitly also, with a revival or resurrection of him in a more youthful and vigorous form. so in the saxon and thüringen custom, after the wild man has been shot he is brought to life again by a doctor; and in the wurmlingen ceremony there figures a dr. iron-beard, who probably once played a similar part; certainly in another spring ceremony, which will be described presently, dr. iron-beard pretends to restore a dead man to life. but of this revival or resurrection of the god we shall have more to say anon. the points of similarity between these north european personages and the subject of our enquiry--the king of the wood or priest of nemi--are sufficiently striking. in these northern maskers we see kings, whose dress of bark and leaves along with the hut of green boughs and the fir-trees, under which they hold their court, proclaim them unmistakably as, like their italian counterpart, kings of the wood. like him they die a violent death, but like him they may escape from it for a time by their bodily strength and agility; for in several of these northern customs the flight and pursuit of the king is a prominent part of the ceremony, and in one case at least if the king can outrun his pursuers he retains his life and his office for another year. in this last case the king in fact holds office on condition of running for his life once a year, just as the king of calicut in later times held office on condition of defending his life against all comers once every twelve years, and just as the priest of nemi held office on condition of defending himself against any assault at any time. in every one of these instances the life of the god-man is prolonged on condition of his showing, in a severe physical contest of fight or flight, that his bodily strength is not decayed, and that, therefore, the violent death, which sooner or later is inevitable, may for the present be postponed. with regard to flight it is noticeable that flight figured conspicuously both in the legend and in the practice of the king of the wood. he had to be a runaway slave in memory of the flight of orestes, the traditional founder of the worship; hence the kings of the wood are described by an ancient writer as "both strong of hand and fleet of foot." perhaps if we knew the ritual of the arician grove fully we might find that the king was allowed a chance for his life by flight, like his bohemian brother. i have already conjectured that the annual flight of the priestly king at rome (_regifugium_) was at first a flight of the same kind; in other words, that he was originally one of those divine kings who are either put to death after a fixed period or allowed to prove by the strong hand or the fleet foot that their divinity is vigorous and unimpaired. one more point of resemblance may be noted between the italian king of the wood and his northern counterparts. in saxony and thüringen the representative of the tree-spirit, after being killed, is brought to life again by a doctor. this is exactly what legend affirmed to have happened to the first king of the wood at nemi, hippolytus or virbius, who after he had been killed by his horses was restored to life by the physician aesculapius. such a legend tallies well with the theory that the slaying of the king of the wood was only a step to his revival or resurrection in his successor. . burying the carnival thus far i have offered an explanation of the rule which required that the priest of nemi should be slain by his successor. the explanation claims to be no more than probable; our scanty knowledge of the custom and of its history forbids it to be more. but its probability will be augmented in proportion to the extent to which the motives and modes of thought which it assumes can be proved to have operated in primitive society. hitherto the god with whose death and resurrection we have been chiefly concerned has been the tree-god. but if i can show that the custom of killing the god and the belief in his resurrection originated, or at least existed, in the hunting and pastoral stage of society, when the slain god was an animal, and that it survived into the agricultural stage, when the slain god was the corn or a human being representing the corn, the probability of my explanation will have been considerably increased. this i shall attempt to do in the sequel, and in the course of the discussion i hope to clear up some obscurities which still remain, and to answer some objections which may have suggested themselves to the reader. we start from the point at which we left off--the spring customs of european peasantry. besides the ceremonies already described there are two kindred sets of observances in which the simulated death of a divine or supernatural being is a conspicuous feature. in one of them the being whose death is dramatically represented is a personification of the carnival; in the other it is death himself. the former ceremony falls naturally at the end of the carnival, either on the last day of that merry season, namely shrove tuesday, or on the first day of lent, namely ash wednesday. the date of the other ceremony--the carrying or driving out of death, as it is commonly called--is not so uniformly fixed. generally it is the fourth sunday in lent, which hence goes by the name of dead sunday; but in some places the celebration falls a week earlier, in others, as among the czechs of bohemia, a week later, while in certain german villages of moravia it is held on the first sunday after easter. perhaps, as has been suggested, the date may originally have been variable, depending on the appearance of the first swallow or some other herald of the spring. some writers regard the ceremony as slavonic in its origin. grimm thought it was a festival of the new year with the old slavs, who began their year in march. we shall first take examples, of the mimic death of the carnival, which always falls before the other in the calendar. at frosinone, in latium, about half-way between rome and naples, the dull monotony of life in a provincial italian town is agreeably broken on the last day of the carnival by the ancient festival known as the _radica._ about four o'clock in the afternoon the town band, playing lively tunes and followed by a great crowd, proceeds to the piazza del plebiscito, where is the sub-prefecture as well as the rest of the government buildings. here, in the middle of the square, the eyes of the expectant multitude are greeted by the sight of an immense car decked with many-coloured festoons and drawn by four horses. mounted on the car is a huge chair, on which sits enthroned the majestic figure of the carnival, a man of stucco about nine feet high with a rubicund and smiling countenance. enormous boots, a tin helmet like those which grace the heads of officers of the italian marine, and a coat of many colours embellished with strange devices, adorn the outward man of this stately personage. his left hand rests on the arm of the chair, while with his right he gracefully salutes the crowd, being moved to this act of civility by a string which is pulled by a man who modestly shrinks from publicity under the mercy-seat. and now the crowd, surging excitedly round the car, gives vent to its feelings in wild cries of joy, gentle and simple being mixed up together and all dancing furiously the _saltarello._ a special feature of the festival is that every one must carry in his hand what is called a _radica_ ( "root"), by which is meant a huge leaf of the aloe or rather the agave. any one who ventured into the crowd without such a leaf would be unceremoniously hustled out of it, unless indeed he bore as a substitute a large cabbage at the end of a long stick or a bunch of grass curiously plaited. when the multitude, after a short turn, has escorted the slow-moving car to the gate of the sub-prefecture, they halt, and the car, jolting over the uneven ground, rumbles into the courtyard. a hush now falls on the crowd, their subdued voices sounding, according to the description of one who has heard them, like the murmur of a troubled sea. all eyes are turned anxiously to the door from which the sub-prefect himself and the other representatives of the majesty of the law are expected to issue and pay their homage to the hero of the hour. a few moments of suspense and then a storm of cheers and hand-clapping salutes the appearance of the dignitaries, as they file out and, descending the staircase, take their place in the procession. the hymn of the carnival is now thundered out, after which, amid a deafening roar, aloe leaves and cabbages are whirled aloft and descend impartially on the heads of the just and the unjust, who lend fresh zest to the proceedings by engaging in a free fight. when these preliminaries have been concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned, the procession gets under weigh. the rear is brought up by a cart laden with barrels of wine and policemen, the latter engaged in the congenial task of serving out wine to all who ask for it, while a most internecine struggle, accompanied by a copious discharge of yells, blows, and blasphemy, goes on among the surging crowd at the cart's tail in their anxiety not to miss the glorious opportunity of intoxicating themselves at the public expense. finally, after the procession has paraded the principal streets in this majestic manner, the effigy of carnival is taken to the middle of a public square, stripped of his finery, laid on a pile of wood, and burnt amid the cries of the multitude, who thundering out once more the song of the carnival fling their so-called "roots" on the pyre and give themselves up without restraint to the pleasures of the dance. in the abruzzi a pasteboard figure of the carnival is carried by four grave-diggers with pipes in their mouths and bottles of wine slung at their shoulder-belts. in front walks the wife of the carnival, dressed in mourning and dissolved in tears. from time to time the company halts, and while the wife addresses the sympathising public, the grave-diggers refresh the inner man with a pull at the bottle. in the open square the mimic corpse is laid on a pyre, and to the roll of drums, the shrill screams of the women, and the gruffer cries of the men a light is set to it. while the figure burns, chestnuts are thrown about among the crowd. sometimes the carnival is represented by a straw-man at the top of a pole which is borne through the town by a troop of mummers in the course of the afternoon. when evening comes on, four of the mummers hold out a quilt or sheet by the corners, and the figure of the carnival is made to tumble into it. the procession is then resumed, the performers weeping crocodile tears and emphasising the poignancy of their grief by the help of saucepans and dinner bells. sometimes, again, in the abruzzi the dead carnival is personified by a living man who lies in a coffin, attended by another who acts the priest and dispenses holy water in great profusion from a bathing tub. at lerida, in catalonia, the funeral of the carnival was witnessed by an english traveller in . on the last sunday of the carnival a grand procession of infantry, cavalry, and maskers of many sorts, some on horseback and some in carriages, escorted the grand car of his grace pau pi, as the effigy was called, in triumph through the principal streets. for three days the revelry ran high, and then at midnight on the last day of the carnival the same procession again wound through the streets, but under a different aspect and for a different end. the triumphal car was exchanged for a hearse, in which reposed the effigy of his dead grace: a troop of maskers, who in the first procession had played the part of students of folly with many a merry quip and jest, now, robed as priests and bishops, paced slowly along holding aloft huge lighted tapers and singing a dirge. all the mummers wore crape, and all the horsemen carried blazing flambeaux. down the high street, between the lofty, many-storeyed and balconied houses, where every window, every balcony, every housetop was crammed with a dense mass of spectators, all dressed and masked in fantastic gorgeousness, the procession took its melancholy way. over the scene flashed and played the shifting cross-lights and shadows from the moving torches: red and blue bengal lights flared up and died out again; and above the trampling of the horses and the measured tread of the marching multitude rose the voices of the priests chanting the requiem, while the military bands struck in with the solemn roll of the muffled drums. on reaching the principal square the procession halted, a burlesque funeral oration was pronounced over the defunct pau pi, and the lights were extinguished. immediately the devil and his angels darted from the crowd, seized the body and fled away with it, hotly pursued by the whole multitude, yelling, screaming, and cheering. naturally the fiends were overtaken and dispersed; and the sham corpse, rescued from their clutches, was laid in a grave that had been made ready for its reception. thus the carnival of at lerida died and was buried. a ceremony of the same sort is observed in provence on ash wednesday. an effigy called caramantran, whimsically attired, is drawn in a chariot or borne on a litter, accompanied by the populace in grotesque costumes, who carry gourds full of wine and drain them with all the marks, real or affected, of intoxication. at the head of the procession are some men disguised as judges and barristers, and a tall gaunt personage who masquerades as lent; behind them follow young people mounted on miserable hacks and attired as mourners who pretend to bewail the fate that is in store for caramantran. in the principal square the procession halts, the tribunal is constituted, and caramantran placed at the bar. after a formal trial he is sentenced to death amid the groans of the mob: the barrister who defended him embraces his client for the last time: the officers of justice do their duty: the condemned is set with his back to a wall and hurried into eternity under a shower of stones. the sea or a river receives his mangled remains. throughout nearly the whole of the ardennes it was and still is customary on ash wednesday to burn an effigy which is supposed to represent the carnival, while appropriate verses are sung round about the blazing figure. very often an attempt is made to fashion the effigy in the likeness of the husband who is reputed to be least faithful to his wife of any in the village. as might perhaps have been anticipated, the distinction of being selected for portraiture under these painful circumstances has a slight tendency to breed domestic jars, especially when the portrait is burnt in front of the house of the gay deceiver whom it represents, while a powerful chorus of caterwauls, groans, and other melodious sounds bears public testimony to the opinion which his friends and neighbours entertain of his private virtues. in some villages of the ardennes a young man of flesh and blood, dressed up in hay and straw, used to act the part of shrove tuesday (_mardi gras_), as the personification of the carnival is often called in france after the last day of the period which he personates. he was brought before a mock tribunal, and being condemned to death was placed with his back to a wall, like a soldier at a military execution, and fired at with blank cartridges. at vrigne-aux-bois one of these harmless buffoons, named thierry, was accidentally killed by a wad that had been left in a musket of the firing-party. when poor shrove tuesday dropped under the fire, the applause was loud and long, he did it so naturally; but when he did not get up again, they ran to him and found him a corpse. since then there have been no more of these mock executions in the ardennes. in normandy on the evening of ash wednesday it used to be the custom to hold a celebration called the burial of shrove tuesday. a squalid effigy scantily clothed in rags, a battered old hat crushed down on his dirty face, his great round paunch stuffed with straw, represented the disreputable old rake who, after a long course of dissipation, was now about to suffer for his sins. hoisted on the shoulders of a sturdy fellow, who pretended to stagger under the burden, this popular personification of the carnival promenaded the streets for the last time in a manner the reverse of triumphal. preceded by a drummer and accompanied by a jeering rabble, among whom the urchins and all the tag-rag and bobtail of the town mustered in great force, the figure was carried about by the flickering light of torches to the discordant din of shovels and tongs, pots and pans, horns and kettles, mingled with hootings, groans, and hisses. from time to time the procession halted, and a champion of morality accused the broken-down old sinner of all the excesses he had committed and for which he was now about to be burned alive. the culprit, having nothing to urge in his own defence, was thrown on a heap of straw, a torch was put to it, and a great blaze shot up, to the delight of the children who frisked round it screaming out some old popular verses about the death of the carnival. sometimes the effigy was rolled down the slope of a hill before being burnt. at saint-lô the ragged effigy of shrove tuesday was followed by his widow, a big burly lout dressed as a woman with a crape veil, who emitted sounds of lamentation and woe in a stentorian voice. after being carried about the streets on a litter attended by a crowd of maskers, the figure was thrown into the river vire. the final scene has been graphically described by madame octave feuillet as she witnessed it in her childhood some sixty years ago. "my parents invited friends to see, from the top of the tower of jeanne couillard, the funeral procession passing. it was there that, quaffing lemonade--the only refreshment allowed because of the fast--we witnessed at nightfall a spectacle of which i shall always preserve a lively recollection. at our feet flowed the vire under its old stone bridge. on the middle of the bridge lay the figure of shrove tuesday on a litter of leaves, surrounded by scores of maskers dancing, singing, and carrying torches. some of them in their motley costumes ran along the parapet like fiends. the rest, worn out with their revels, sat on the posts and dozed. soon the dancing stopped, and some of the troop, seizing a torch, set fire to the effigy, after which they flung it into the river with redoubled shouts and clamour. the man of straw, soaked with resin, floated away burning down the stream of the vire, lighting up with its funeral fires the woods on the bank and the battlements of the old castle in which louis xi. and francis i. had slept. when the last glimmer of the blazing phantom had vanished, like a falling star, at the end of the valley, every one withdrew, crowd and maskers alike, and we quitted the ramparts with our guests." in the neighbourhood of tübingen on shrove tuesday a straw-man, called the shrovetide bear, is made up; he is dressed in a pair of old trousers, and a fresh black-pudding or two squirts filled with blood are inserted in his neck. after a formal condemnation he is beheaded, laid in a coffin, and on ash wednesday is buried in the churchyard. this is called "burying the carnival." amongst some of the saxons of transylvania the carnival is hanged. thus at braller on ash wednesday or shrove tuesday two white and two chestnut horses draw a sledge on which is placed a straw-man swathed in a white cloth; beside him is a cart-wheel which is kept turning round. two lads disguised as old men follow the sledge lamenting. the rest of the village lads, mounted on horseback and decked with ribbons, accompany the procession, which is headed by two girls crowned with evergreen and drawn in a waggon or sledge. a trial is held under a tree, at which lads disguised as soldiers pronounce sentence of death. the two old men try to rescue the straw-man and to fly with him, but to no purpose; he is caught by the two girls and handed over to the executioner, who hangs him on a tree. in vain the old men try to climb up the tree and take him down; they always tumble down, and at last in despair they throw themselves on the ground and weep and howl for the hanged man. an official then makes a speech in which he declares that the carnival was condemned to death because he had done them harm, by wearing out their shoes and making them tired and sleepy. at the "burial of carnival" in lechrain, a man dressed as a woman in black clothes is carried on a litter or bier by four men; he is lamented over by men disguised as women in black clothes, then thrown down before the village dung-heap, drenched with water, buried in the dung-heap, and covered with straw. on the evening of shrove tuesday the esthonians make a straw figure called _metsik_ or "wood-spirit"; one year it is dressed with a man's coat and hat, next year with a hood and a petticoat. this figure is stuck on a long pole, carried across the boundary of the village with loud cries of joy, and fastened to the top of a tree in the wood. the ceremony is believed to be a protection against all kinds of misfortune. sometimes at these shrovetide or lenten ceremonies the resurrection of the pretended dead person is enacted. thus, in some parts of swabia on shrove tuesday dr. iron-beard professes to bleed a sick man, who thereupon falls as dead to the ground; but the doctor at last restores him to life by blowing air into him through a tube. in the harz mountains, when carnival is over, a man is laid on a baking-trough and carried with dirges to the grave; but in the grave a glass of brandy is buried instead of the man. a speech is delivered and then the people return to the village-green or meeting-place, where they smoke the long clay pipes which are distributed at funerals. on the morning of shrove tuesday in the following year the brandy is dug up and the festival begins by every one tasting the spirit which, as the phrase goes, has come to life again. . carrying out death the ceremony of "carrying out death" presents much the same features as "burying the carnival"; except that the carrying out of death is generally followed by a ceremony, or at least accompanied by a profession, of bringing in summer, spring, or life. thus in middle franken, a province of bavaria, on the fourth sunday in lent, the village urchins used to make a straw effigy of death, which they carried about with burlesque pomp through the streets, and afterwards burned with loud cries beyond the bounds. the frankish custom is thus described by a writer of the sixteenth century: "at mid-lent, the season when the church bids us rejoice, the young people of my native country make a straw image of death, and fastening it to a pole carry it with shouts to the neighbouring villages. by some they are kindly received, and after being refreshed with milk, peas, and dried pears, the usual food of that season, are sent home again. others, however, treat them with anything but hospitality; for, looking on them as harbingers of misfortune, to wit of death, they drive them from their boundaries with weapons and insults." in the villages near erlangen, when the fourth sunday in lent came around, the peasant girls used to dress themselves in all their finery with flowers in their hair. thus attired they repaired to the neighbouring town, carrying puppets which were adorned with leaves and covered with white cloths. these they took from house to house in pairs, stopping at every door where they expected to receive something, and singing a few lines in which they announced that it was mid-lent and that they were about to throw death into the water. when they had collected some trifling gratuities they went to the river regnitz and flung the puppets representing death into the stream. this was done to ensure a fruitful and prosperous year; further, it was considered a safeguard against pestilence and sudden death. at nuremberg girls of seven to eighteen years of age go through the streets bearing a little open coffin, in which is a doll hidden under a shroud. others carry a beech branch, with an apple fastened to it for a head, in an open box. they sing, "we carry death into the water, it is well," or "we carry death into the water, carry him in and out again." in some parts of bavaria down to it was believed that a fatal epidemic would ensue if the custom of "carrying out death" were not observed. in some villages of thüringen, on the fourth sunday of lent, the children used to carry a puppet of birchen twigs through the village, and then threw it into a pool, while they sang, "we carry the old death out behind the herdman's old house; we have got summer, and kroden's (?) power is destroyed." at debschwitz or dobschwitz, near gera, the ceremony of "driving out death" is or was annually observed on the first of march. the young people make up a figure of straw or the like materials, dress it in old clothes, which they have begged from houses in the village, and carry it out and throw it into the river. on returning to the village they break the good news to the people, and receive eggs and other victuals as a reward. the ceremony is or was supposed to purify the village and to protect the inhabitants from sickness and plague. in other villages of thüringen, in which the population was originally slavonic, the carrying out of the puppet is accompanied with the singing of a song, which begins, "now we carry death out of the village and spring into the village." at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century the custom was observed in thüringen as follows. the boys and girls made an effigy of straw or the like materials, but the shape of the figure varied from year to year. in one year it would represent an old man, in the next an old woman, in the third a young man, and in the fourth a maiden, and the dress of the figure varied with the character it personated. there used to be a sharp contest as to where the effigy was to be made, for the people thought that the house from which it was carried forth would not be visited with death that year. having been made, the puppet was fastened to a pole and carried by a girl if it represented an old man, but by a boy if it represented an old woman. thus it was borne in procession, the young people holding sticks in their hands and singing that they were driving out death. when they came to water they threw the effigy into it and ran hastily back, fearing that it might jump on their shoulders and wring their necks. they also took care not to touch it, lest it should dry them up. on their return they beat the cattle with the sticks, believing that this would make the animals fat or fruitful. afterwards they visited the house or houses from which they had carried the image of death; where they received a dole of half-boiled peas. the custom of "carrying out death" was practised also in saxony. at leipsic the bastards and public women used to make a straw effigy of death every year at mid-lent. this they carried through all the streets with songs and showed it to the young married women. finally they threw it into the river parthe. by this ceremony they professed to make the young wives fruitful, to purify the city, and to protect the inhabitants for that year from plague and other epidemics. ceremonies of the same sort are observed at mid-lent in silesia. thus in many places the grown girls with the help of the young men dress up a straw figure with women's clothes and carry it out of the village towards the setting sun. at the boundary they strip it of its clothes, tear it in pieces, and scatter the fragments about the fields. this is called "burying death." as they carry the image out, they sing that they are about to bury death under an oak, that he may depart from the people. sometimes the song runs that they are bearing death over hill and dale to return no more. in the polish neighbourhood of gross-strehlitz the puppet is called goik. it is carried on horseback and thrown into the nearest water. the people think that the ceremony protects them from sickness of every sort in the coming year. in the districts of wohlau and guhrau the image of death used to be thrown over the boundary of the next village. but as the neighbours feared to receive the ill-omened figure, they were on the look-out to repel it, and hard knocks were often exchanged between the two parties. in some polish parts of upper silesia the effigy, representing an old woman, goes by the name of marzana, the goddess of death. it is made in the house where the last death occurred, and is carried on a pole to the boundary of the village, where it is thrown into a pond or burnt. at polkwitz the custom of "carrying out death" fell into abeyance; but an outbreak of fatal sickness which followed the intermission of the ceremony induced the people to resume it. in bohemia the children go out with a straw-man, representing death, to the end of the village, where they burn it, singing-- "now carry we death out of the village, the new summer into the village, welcome, dear summer, green little corn." at tabor in bohemia the figure of death is carried out of the town and flung from a high rock into the water, while they sing-- "death swims on the water, summer will soon be here, we carried death away for you we brought the summer. and do thou, o holy marketa, give us a good year for wheat and for rye." in other parts of bohemia they carry death to the end of the village, singing-- "we carry death out of the village, and the new year into the village. dear spring, we bid you welcome, green grass, we bid you welcome." behind the village they erect a pyre, on which they burn the straw figure, reviling and scoffing at it the while. then they return, singing-- "we have carried away death, and brought life back. he has taken up his quarters in the village, therefore sing joyous songs." in some german villages of moravia, as in jassnitz and seitendorf, the young folk assemble on the third sunday in lent and fashion a straw-man, who is generally adorned with a fur cap and a pair of old leathern hose, if such are to be had. the effigy is then hoisted on a pole and carried by the lads and lasses out into the open fields. on the way they sing a song, in which it is said that they are carrying death away and bringing dear summer into the house, and with summer the may and the flowers. on reaching an appointed place they dance in a circle round the effigy with loud shouts and screams, then suddenly rush at it and tear it to pieces with their hands. lastly, the pieces are thrown together in a heap, the pole is broken, and fire is set to the whole. while it burns the troop dances merrily round it, rejoicing at the victory won by spring; and when the fire has nearly died out they go to the householders to beg for a present of eggs wherewith to hold a feast, taking care to give as a reason for the request that they have carried death out and away. the preceding evidence shows that the effigy of death is often regarded with fear and treated with marks of hatred and abhorrence. thus the anxiety of the villagers to transfer the figure from their own to their neighbours' land, and the reluctance of the latter to receive the ominous guest, are proof enough of the dread which it inspires. further, in lusatia and silesia the puppet is sometimes made to look in at the window of a house, and it is believed that some one in the house will die within the year unless his life is redeemed by the payment of money. again, after throwing the effigy away, the bearers sometimes run home lest death should follow them, and if one of them falls in running, it is believed that he will die within the year. at chrudim, in bohemia, the figure of death is made out of a cross, with a head and mask stuck at the top, and a shirt stretched out on it. on the fifth sunday in lent the boys take this effigy to the nearest brook or pool, and standing in a line throw it into the water. then they all plunge in after it; but as soon as it is caught no one more may enter the water. the boy who did not enter the water or entered it last will die within the year, and he is obliged to carry the death back to the village. the effigy is then burned. on the other hand, it is believed that no one will die within the year in the house out of which the figure of death has been carried; and the village out of which death has been driven is sometimes supposed to be protected against sickness and plague. in some villages of austrian silesia on the saturday before dead sunday an effigy is made of old clothes, hay, and straw, for the purpose of driving death out of the village. on sunday the people, armed with sticks and straps, assemble before the house where the figure is lodged. four lads then draw the effigy by cords through the village amid exultant shouts, while all the others beat it with their sticks and straps. on reaching a field which belongs to a neighbouring village they lay down the figure, cudgel it soundly, and scatter the fragments over the field. the people believe that the village from which death has been thus carried out will be safe from any infectious disease for the whole year. . bringing in summer in the preceding ceremonies the return of spring, summer, or life, as a sequel to the expulsion of death, is only implied or at most announced. in the following ceremonies it is plainly enacted. thus in some parts of bohemia the effigy of death is drowned by being thrown into the water at sunset; then the girls go out into the wood and cut down a young tree with a green crown, hang a doll dressed as a woman on it, deck the whole with green, red, and white ribbons, and march in procession with their _líto_ (summer) into the village, collecting gifts and singing-- "death swims in the water, spring comes to visit us, with eggs that are red, with yellow pancakes. we carried death out of the village, we are carrying summer into the village." in many silesian villages the figure of death, after being treated with respect, is stript of its clothes and flung with curses into the water, or torn to pieces in a field. then the young folk repair to a wood, cut down a small fir-tree, peel the trunk, and deck it with festoons of evergreens, paper roses, painted egg-shells, motley bits of cloth, and so forth. the tree thus adorned is called summer or may. boys carry it from house to house singing appropriate songs and begging for presents. among their songs is the following: "we have carried death out, we are bringing the dear summer back, the summer and the may and all the flowers gay." sometimes they also bring back from the wood a prettily adorned figure, which goes by the name of summer, may, or the bride; in the polish districts it is called dziewanna, the goddess of spring. at eisenach on the fourth sunday in lent young people used to fasten a straw-man, representing death, to a wheel, which they trundled to the top of a hill. then setting fire to the figure they allowed it and the wheel to roll down the slope. next day they cut a tall fir-tree, tricked it out with ribbons, and set it up in the plain. the men then climbed the tree to fetch down the ribbons. in upper lusatia the figure of death, made of straw and rags, is dressed in a veil furnished by the last bride and a shirt provided by the house in which the last death took place. thus arrayed the figure is stuck on the end of a long pole and carried at full speed by the tallest and strongest girl, while the rest pelt the effigy with sticks and stones. whoever hits it will be sure to live through the year. in this way death is carried out of the village and thrown into the water or over the boundary of the next village. on their way home each one breaks a green branch and carries it gaily with him till he reaches the village, when he throws it away. sometimes the young people of the next village, upon whose land the figure has been thrown, run after them and hurl it back, not wishing to have death among them. hence the two parties occasionally come to blows. in these cases death is represented by the puppet which is thrown away, summer or life by the branches or trees which are brought back. but sometimes a new potency of life seems to be attributed to the image of death itself, and by a kind of resurrection it becomes the instrument of the general revival. thus in some parts of lusatia women alone are concerned in carrying out death, and suffer no male to meddle with it. attired in mourning, which they wear the whole day, they make a puppet of straw, clothe it in a white shirt, and give it a broom in one hand and a scythe in the other. singing songs and pursued by urchins throwing stones, they carry the puppet to the village boundary, where they tear it in pieces. then they cut down a fine tree, hang the shirt on it, and carry it home singing. on the feast of ascension the saxons of braller, a village of transylvania, not far from hermannstadt, observe the ceremony of "carrying out death" in the following manner. after morning service all the school-girls repair to the house of one of their number, and there dress up the death. this is done by tying a threshed-out sheaf of corn into a rough semblance of a head and body, while the arms are simulated by a broomstick thrust through it horizontally. the figure is dressed in the holiday attire of a young peasant woman, with a red hood, silver brooches, and a profusion of ribbons at the arms and breast. the girls bustle at their work, for soon the bells will be ringing to vespers, and the death must be ready in time to be placed at the open window, that all the people may see it on their way to church. when vespers are over, the longed-for moment has come for the first procession with the death to begin; it is a privilege that belongs to the school-girls alone. two of the older girls seize the figure by the arms and walk in front: all the rest follow two and two. boys may take no part in the procession, but they troop after it gazing with open-mouthed admiration at the "beautiful death." so the procession goes through all the streets of the village, the girls singing the old hymn that begins-- "gott mein vater, deine liebe reicht so weit der himmel ist," to a tune that differs from the ordinary one. when the procession has wound its way through every street, the girls go to another house, and having shut the door against the eager prying crowd of boys who follow at their heels, they strip the death and pass the naked truss of straw out of the window to the boys, who pounce on it, run out of the village with it without singing, and fling the dilapidated effigy into the neighbouring brook. this done, the second scene of the little drama begins. while the boys were carrying away the death out of the village, the girls remained in the house, and one of them is now dressed in all the finery which had been worn by the effigy. thus arrayed she is led in procession through all the streets to the singing of the same hymn as before. when the procession is over they all betake themselves to the house of the girl who played the leading part. here a feast awaits them from which also the boys are excluded. it is a popular belief that the children may safely begin to eat gooseberries and other fruit after the day on which death has thus been carried out; for death, which up to that time lurked especially in gooseberries, is now destroyed. further, they may now bathe with impunity out of doors. very similar is the ceremony which, down to recent years, was observed in some of the german villages of moravia. boys and girls met on the afternoon of the first sunday after easter, and together fashioned a puppet of straw to represent death. decked with bright-coloured ribbons and cloths, and fastened to the top of a long pole, the effigy was then borne with singing and clamour to the nearest height, where it was stript of its gay attire and thrown or rolled down the slope. one of the girls was next dressed in the gauds taken from the effigy of death, and with her at its head the procession moved back to the village. in some villages the practice is to bury the effigy in the place that has the most evil reputation of all the country-side: others throw it into running water. in the lusatian ceremony described above, the tree which is brought home after the destruction of the figure of death is plainly equivalent to the trees or branches which, in the preceding customs, were brought back as representatives of summer or life, after death had been thrown away or destroyed. but the transference of the shirt worn by the effigy of death to the tree clearly indicates that the tree is a kind of revivification, in a new form, of the destroyed effigy. this comes out also in the transylvanian and moravian customs: the dressing of a girl in the clothes worn by the death, and the leading her about the village to the same song which had been sung when the death was being carried about, show that she is intended to be a kind of resuscitation of the being whose effigy has just been destroyed. these examples therefore suggest that the death whose demolition is represented in these ceremonies cannot be regarded as the purely destructive agent which we understand by death. if the tree which is brought back as an embodiment of the reviving vegetation of spring is clothed in the shirt worn by the death which has just been destroyed, the object certainly cannot be to check and counteract the revival of vegetation: it can only be to foster and promote it. therefore the being which has just been destroyed--the so-called death--must be supposed to be endowed with a vivifying and quickening influence, which it can communicate to the vegetable and even the animal world. this ascription of a life-giving virtue to the figure of death is put beyond a doubt by the custom, observed in some places, of taking pieces of the straw effigy of death and placing them in the fields to make the crops grow, or in the manger to make the cattle thrive. thus in spachendorf, a village of austrian silesia, the figure of death, made of straw, brushwood, and rags, is carried with wild songs to an open place outside the village and there burned, and while it is burning a general struggle takes place for the pieces, which are pulled out of the flames with bare hands. each one who secures a fragment of the effigy ties it to a branch of the largest tree in his garden, or buries it in his field, in the belief that this causes the crops to grow better. in the troppau district of austrian silesia the straw figure which the boys make on the fourth sunday in lent is dressed by the girls in woman's clothes and hung with ribbons, necklace, and garlands. attached to a long pole it is carried out of the village, followed by a troop of young people of both sexes, who alternately frolic, lament, and sing songs. arrived at its destination--a field outside the village--the figure is stripped of its clothes and ornaments; then the crowd rushes at it and tears it to bits, scuffling for the fragments. every one tries to get a wisp of the straw of which the effigy was made, because such a wisp, placed in the manger, is believed to make the cattle thrive. or the straw is put in the hens' nest, it being supposed that this prevents the hens from carrying away their eggs, and makes them brood much better. the same attribution of a fertilising power to the figure of death appears in the belief that if the bearers of the figure, after throwing it away, beat cattle with their sticks, this will render the beasts fat or prolific. perhaps the sticks had been previously used to beat the death, and so had acquired the fertilising power ascribed to the effigy. we have seen, too, that at leipsic a straw effigy of death was shown to young wives to make them fruitful. it seems hardly possible to separate from the may-trees the trees or branches which are brought into the village after the destruction of the death. the bearers who bring them in profess to be bringing in the summer, therefore the trees obviously represent the summer; indeed in silesia they are commonly called the summer or the may, and the doll which is sometimes attached to the summer-tree is a duplicate representative of the summer, just as the may is sometimes represented at the same time by a may-tree and a may lady. further, the summer-trees are adorned like may-trees with ribbons and so on; like may-trees, when large, they are planted in the ground and climbed up; and like may-trees, when small, they are carried from door to door by boys or girls singing songs and collecting money. and as if to demonstrate the identity of the two sets of customs the bearers of the summer-tree sometimes announce that they are bringing in the summer and the may. the customs, therefore, of bringing in the may and bringing in the summer are essentially the same; and the summer-tree is merely another form of the may-tree, the only distinction (besides that of name) being in the time at which they are respectively brought in; for while the may-tree is usually fetched in on the first of may or at whitsuntide, the summer-tree is fetched in on the fourth sunday in lent. therefore, if the may-tree is an embodiment of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation, the summer-tree must likewise be an embodiment of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. but we have seen that the summer-tree is in some cases a revivification of the effigy of death. it follows, therefore, that in these cases the effigy called death must be an embodiment of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. this inference is confirmed, first, by the vivifying and fertilising influence which the fragments of the effigy of death are believed to exercise both on vegetable and on animal life; for this influence, as we saw in an earlier part of this work, is supposed to be a special attribute of the tree-spirit. it is confirmed, secondly, by observing that the effigy of death is sometimes decked with leaves or made of twigs, branches, hemp, or a threshed-out sheaf of corn; and that sometimes it is hung on a little tree and so carried about by girls collecting money, just as is done with the may-tree and the may lady, and with the summer-tree and the doll attached to it. in short we are driven to regard the expulsion of death and the bringing in of summer as, in some cases at least, merely another form of that death and revival of the spirit of vegetation in spring which we saw enacted in the killing and resurrection of the wild man. the burial and resurrection of the carnival is probably another way of expressing the same idea. the interment of the representative of the carnival under a dung-heap is natural, if he is supposed to possess a quickening and fertilising influence like that ascribed to the effigy of death. the esthonians, indeed, who carry the straw figure out of the village in the usual way on shrove tuesday, do not call it the carnival, but the wood-spirit (_metsik_), and they clearly indicate the identity of the effigy with the wood-spirit by fixing it to the top of a tree in the wood, where it remains for a year, and is besought almost daily with prayers and offerings to protect the herds; for like a true wood-spirit the _metsik_ is a patron of cattle. sometimes the _metsik_ is made of sheaves of corn. thus we may fairly conjecture that the names carnival, death, and summer are comparatively late and inadequate expressions for the beings personified or embodied in the customs with which we have been dealing. the very abstractness of the names bespeaks a modern origin; for the personification of times and seasons like the carnival and summer, or of an abstract notion like death, is not primitive. but the ceremonies themselves bear the stamp of a dateless antiquity; therefore we can hardly help supposing that in their origin the ideas which they embodied were of a more simple and concrete order. the notion of a tree, perhaps of a particular kind of tree (for some savages have no word for tree in general), or even of an individual tree, is sufficiently concrete to supply a basis from which by a gradual process of generalisation the wider idea of a spirit of vegetation might be reached. but this general idea of vegetation would readily be confounded with the season in which it manifests itself; hence the substitution of spring, summer, or may for the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation would be easy and natural. again, the concrete notion of the dying tree or dying vegetation would by a similar process of generalisation glide into a notion of death in general; so that the practice of carrying out the dying or dead vegetation in spring, as a preliminary to its revival, would in time widen out into an attempt to banish death in general from the village or district. the view that in these spring ceremonies death meant originally the dying or dead vegetation of winter has the high support of w. mannhardt; and he confirms it by the analogy of the name death as applied to the spirit of the ripe corn. commonly the spirit of the ripe corn is conceived, not as dead, but as old, and hence it goes by the name of the old man or the old woman. but in some places the last sheaf cut at harvest, which is generally believed to be the seat of the corn spirit, is called "the dead one": children are warned against entering the corn-fields because death sits in the corn; and, in a game played by saxon children in transylvania at the maize harvest, death is represented by a child completely covered with maize leaves. . battle of summer and winter sometimes in the popular customs of the peasantry the contrast between the dormant powers of vegetation in winter and their awakening vitality in spring takes the form of a dramatic contest between actors who play the parts respectively of winter and summer. thus in the towns of sweden on may day two troops of young men on horseback used to meet as if for mortal combat. one of them was led by a representative of winter clad in furs, who threw snowballs and ice in order to prolong the cold weather. the other troop was commanded by a representative of summer covered with fresh leaves and flowers. in the sham fight which followed the party of summer came off victorious, and the ceremony ended with a feast. again, in the region of the middle rhine, a representative of summer clad in ivy combats a representative of winter clad in straw or moss and finally gains a victory over him. the vanquished foe is thrown to the ground and stripped of his casing of straw, which is torn to pieces and scattered about, while the youthful comrades of the two champions sing a song to commemorate the defeat of winter by summer. afterwards they carry about a summer garland or branch and collect gifts of eggs and bacon from house to house. sometimes the champion who acts the part of summer is dressed in leaves and flowers and wears a chaplet of flowers on his head. in the palatinate this mimic conflict takes place on the fourth sunday in lent. all over bavaria the same drama used to be acted on the same day, and it was still kept up in some places down to the middle of the nineteenth century or later. while summer appeared clad all in green, decked with fluttering ribbons, and carrying a branch in blossom or a little tree hung with apples and pears, winter was muffled up in cap and mantle of fur and bore in his hand a snow-shovel or a flail. accompanied by their respective retinues dressed in corresponding attire, they went through all the streets of the village, halting before the houses and singing staves of old songs, for which they received presents of bread, eggs, and fruit. finally, after a short struggle, winter was beaten by summer and ducked in the village well or driven out of the village with shouts and laughter into the forest. at goepfritz in lower austria, two men personating summer and winter used to go from house to house on shrove tuesday, and were everywhere welcomed by the children with great delight. the representative of summer was clad in white and bore a sickle; his comrade, who played the part of winter, had a fur-cap on his head, his arms and legs were swathed in straw, and he carried a flail. in every house they sang verses alternately. at drömling in brunswick, down to the present time, the contest between summer and winter is acted every year at whitsuntide by a troop of boys and a troop of girls. the boys rush singing, shouting, and ringing bells from house to house to drive winter away; after them come the girls singing softly and led by a may bride, all in bright dresses and decked with flowers and garlands to represent the genial advent of spring. formerly the part of winter was played by a straw-man which the boys carried with them; now it is acted by a real man in disguise. among the central esquimaux of north america the contest between representatives of summer and winter, which in europe has long degenerated into a mere dramatic performance, is still kept up as a magical ceremony of which the avowed intention is to influence the weather. in autumn, when storms announce the approach of the dismal arctic winter, the esquimaux divide themselves into two parties called respectively the ptarmigans and the ducks, the ptarmigans comprising all persons born in winter, and the ducks all persons born in summer. a long rope of sealskin is then stretched out, and each party laying hold of one end of it seeks by tugging with might and main to drag the other party over to its side. if the ptarmigans get the worst of it, then summer has won the game and fine weather may be expected to prevail through the winter. . death and resurrection of kostrubonko i russia funeral ceremonies like those of "burying the carnival" and "carrying out death" are celebrated under the names, not of death or the carnival, but of certain mythic figures, kostrubonko, kostroma, kupalo, lada, and yarilo. these russian ceremonies are observed both in spring and at midsummer. thus "in little russia it used to be the custom at eastertide to celebrate the funeral of a being called kostrubonko, the deity of the spring. a circle was formed of singers who moved slowly around a girl who lay on the ground as if dead, and as they went they sang: 'dead, dead is our kostrubonko! dead, dead is our dear one!' until the girl suddenly sprang up, on which the chorus joyfully exclaimed: 'come to life, come to life has our kostrubonko! come to life, come to life has our dear one!'" on the eve of st. john (midsummer eve) a figure of kupalo is made of straw and "is dressed in woman's clothes, with a necklace and a floral crown. then a tree is felled, and, after being decked with ribbons, is set up on some chosen spot. near this tree, to which they give the name of marena [winter or death], the straw figure is placed, together with a table, on which stand spirits and viands. afterwards a bonfire is lit, and the young men and maidens jump over it in couples, carrying the figure with them. on the next day they strip the tree and the figure of their ornaments, and throw them both into a stream." on st. peter's day, the twenty-ninth of june, or on the following sunday, "the funeral of kostroma" or of lada or of yarilo is celebrated in russia. in the governments of penza and simbirsk the funeral used to be represented as follows. a bonfire was kindled on the twenty-eighth of june, and on the next day the maidens chose one of their number to play the part of kostroma. her companions saluted her with deep obeisances, placed her on a board, and carried her to the bank of a stream. there they bathed her in the water, while the oldest girl made a basket of lime-tree bark and beat it like a drum. then they returned to the village and ended the day with processions, games, and dances. in the murom district kostroma was represented by a straw figure dressed in woman's clothes and flowers. this was laid in a trough and carried with songs to the bank of a lake or river. here the crowd divided into two sides, of which the one attacked and the other defended the figure. at last the assailants gained the day, stripped the figure of its dress and ornaments, tore it in pieces, trod the straw of which it was made under foot, and flung it into the stream; while the defenders of the figure hid their faces in their hands and pretended to bewail the death of kostroma. in the district of kostroma the burial of yarilo was celebrated on the twenty-ninth or thirtieth of june. the people chose an old man and gave him a small coffin containing a priapus-like figure representing yarilo. this he carried out of the town, followed by women chanting dirges and expressing by their gestures grief and despair. in the open fields a grave was dug, and into it the figure was lowered amid weeping and wailing, after which games and dances were begun, "calling to mind the funeral games celebrated in old times by the pagan slavonians." in little russia the figure of yarilo was laid in a coffin and carried through the streets after sunset surrounded by drunken women, who kept repeating mournfully, "he is dead! he is dead!" the men lifted and shook the figure as if they were trying to recall the dead man to life. then they said to the women, "women, weep not. i know what is sweeter than honey." but the women continued to lament and chant, as they do at funerals. "of what was he guilty? he was so good. he will arise no more. o how shall we part from thee? what is life without thee? arise, if only for a brief hour. but he rises not, he not." at last the yarilo was buried in a grave. . death and revival of vegetation these russian customs are plainly of the same nature as those which in austria and germany are known as "carrying out death." therefore if the interpretation here adopted of the latter is right, the russian kostrubonko, yarilo, and the rest must also have been originally embodiments of the spirit of vegetation, and their death must have been regarded as a necessary preliminary to their revival. the revival as a sequel to the death is enacted in the first of the ceremonies described, the death and resurrection of kostrubonko. the reason why in some of these russian ceremonies the death of the spirit of vegetation is celebrated at midsummer may be that the decline of summer is dated from midsummer day, after which the days begin to shorten, and the sun sets out on his downward journey: "to the darksome hollows where the frosts of winter lie." such a turning-point of the year, when vegetation might be thought to share the incipient though still almost imperceptible decay of summer, might very well be chosen by primitive man as a fit moment for resorting to those magic rites by which he hopes to stay the decline, or at least to ensure the revival, of plant life. but while the death of vegetation appears to have been represented in all, and its revival in some, of these spring and midsummer ceremonies, there are features in some of them which can hardly be explained on this hypothesis alone. the solemn funeral, the lamentations, and the mourning attire, which often characterise these rites, are indeed appropriate at the death of the beneficent spirit of vegetation. but what shall we say of the glee with which the effigy is often carried out, of the sticks and stones with which it is assailed, and the taunts and curses which are hurled at it? what shall we say of the dread of the effigy evinced by the haste with which the bearers scamper home as soon as they have thrown it away, and by the belief that some one must soon die in any house into which it has looked? this dread might perhaps be explained by a belief that there is a certain infectiousness in the dead spirit of vegetation which renders its approach dangerous. but this explanation, besides being rather strained, does not cover the rejoicings which often attend the carrying out of death. we must therefore recognise two distinct and seemingly opposite features in these ceremonies: on the one hand, sorrow for the death, and affection and respect for the dead; on the other hand, fear and hatred of the dead, and rejoicings at his death. how the former of these features is to be explained i have attempted to show: how the latter came to be so closely associated with the former is a question which i shall try to answer in the sequel. . analogous rites in india in the kanagra district of india there is a custom observed by young girls in spring which closely resembles some of the european spring ceremonies just described. it is called the _ralî ka melâ,_ or fair of ralî, the _ralî_ being a small painted earthen image of siva or pârvatî. the custom is in vogue all over the kanagra district, and its celebration, which is entirely confined to young girls, lasts through most of chet (march-april) up to the sankrânt of baisâkh (april). on a morning in march all the young girls of the village take small baskets of _dûb_ grass and flowers to an appointed place, where they throw them in a heap. round this heap they stand in a circle and sing. this goes on every day for ten days, till the heap of grass and flowers has reached a fair height. then they cut in the jungle two branches, each with three prongs at one end, and place them, prongs downwards, over the heap of flowers, so as to make two tripods or pyramids. on the single uppermost points of these branches they get an image-maker to construct two clay images, one to represent siva, and the other pârvatî. the girls then divide themselves into two parties, one for siva and one for pârvatî, and marry the images in the usual way, leaving out no part of the ceremony. after the marriage they have a feast, the cost of which is defrayed by contributions solicited from their parents. then at the next sankrânt (baisâkh) they all go together to the river-side, throw the images into a deep pool, and weep over the place, as though they were performing funeral obsequies. the boys of the neighbourhood often tease them by diving after the images, bringing them up, and waving them about while the girls are crying over them. the object of the fair is said to be to secure a good husband. that in this indian ceremony the deities siva and pârvatî are conceived as spirits of vegetation seems to be proved by the placing of their images on branches over a heap of grass and flowers. here, as often in european folk-custom, the divinities of vegetation are represented in duplicate, by plants and by puppets. the marriage of these indian deities in spring corresponds to the european ceremonies in which the marriage of the vernal spirits of vegetation is represented by the king and queen of may, the may bride, bridegroom of the may, and so forth. the throwing of the images into the water, and the mourning for them, are the equivalents of the european customs of throwing the dead spirit of vegetation under the name of death, yarilo, kostroma, and the rest, into the water and lamenting over it. again, in india, as often in europe, the rite is performed exclusively by females. the notion that the ceremony helps to procure husbands for the girls can be explained by the quickening and fertilising influence which the spirit of vegetation is believed to exert upon the life of man as well as of plants. . the magic spring the general explanation which we have been led to adopt of these and many similar ceremonies is that they are, or were in their origin, magical rites intended to ensure the revival of nature in spring. the means by which they were supposed to effect this end were imitation and sympathy. led astray by his ignorance of the true causes of things, primitive man believed that in order to produce the great phenomena of nature on which his life depended he had only to imitate them, and that immediately by a secret sympathy or mystic influence the little drama which he acted in forest glade or mountain dell, on desert plain or wind-swept shore, would be taken up and repeated by mightier actors on a vaster stage. he fancied that by masquerading in leaves and flowers he helped the bare earth to clothe herself with verdure, and that by playing the death and burial of winter he drove that gloomy season away, and made smooth the path for the footsteps of returning spring. if we find it hard to throw ourselves even in fancy into a mental condition in which such things seem possible, we can more easily picture to ourselves the anxiety which the savage, when he first began to lift his thoughts above the satisfaction of his merely animal wants, and to meditate on the causes of things, may have felt as to the continued operation of what we now call the laws of nature. to us, familiar as we are with the conception of the uniformity and regularity with which the great cosmic phenomena succeed each other, there seems little ground for apprehension that the causes which produce these effects will cease to operate, at least within the near future. but this confidence in the stability of nature is bred only by the experience which comes of wide observation and long tradition; and the savage, with his narrow sphere of observation and his short-lived tradition, lacks the very elements of that experience which alone could set his mind at rest in face of the ever-changing and often menacing aspects of nature. no wonder, therefore, that he is thrown into a panic by an eclipse, and thinks that the sun or the moon would surely perish, if he did not raise a clamour and shoot his puny shafts into the air to defend the luminaries from the monster who threatens to devour them. no wonder he is terrified when in the darkness of night a streak of sky is suddenly illumined by the flash of a meteor, or the whole expanse of the celestial arch glows with the fitful light of the northern streamers. even phenomena which recur at fixed and uniform intervals may be viewed by him with apprehension, before he has come to recognise the orderliness of their recurrence. the speed or slowness of his recognition of such periodic or cyclic changes in nature will depend largely on the length of the particular cycle. the cycle, for example, of day and night is everywhere, except in the polar regions, so short and hence so frequent that men probably soon ceased to discompose themselves seriously as to the chance of its failing to recur, though the ancient egyptians, as we have seen, daily wrought enchantments to bring back to the east in the morning the fiery orb which had sunk at evening in the crimson west. but it was far otherwise with the annual cycle of the seasons. to any man a year is a considerable period, seeing that the number of our years is but few at the best. to the primitive savage, with his short memory and imperfect means of marking the flight of time, a year may well have been so long that he failed to recognise it as a cycle at all, and watched the changing aspects of earth and heaven with a perpetual wonder, alternately delighted and alarmed, elated and cast down, according as the vicissitudes of light and heat, of plant and animal life, ministered to his comfort or threatened his existence. in autumn when the withered leaves were whirled about the forest by the nipping blast, and he looked up at the bare boughs, could he feel sure that they would ever be green again? as day by day the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, could he be certain that the luminary would ever retrace his heavenly road? even the waning moon, whose pale sickle rose thinner and thinner every night over the rim of the eastern horizon, may have excited in his mind a fear lest, when it had wholly vanished, there should be moons no more. these and a thousand such misgivings may have thronged the fancy and troubled the peace of the man who first began to reflect on the mysteries of the world he lived in, and to take thought for a more distant future than the morrow. it was natural, therefore, that with such thoughts and fears he should have done all that in him lay to bring back the faded blossom to the bough, to swing the low sun of winter up to his old place in the summer sky, and to restore its orbed fulness to the silver lamp of the waning moon. we may smile at his vain endeavours if we please, but it was only by making a long series of experiments, of which some were almost inevitably doomed to failure, that man learned from experience the futility of some of his attempted methods and the fruitfulness of others. after all, magical ceremonies are nothing but experiments which have failed and which continue to be repeated merely because, for reasons which have already been indicated, the operator is unaware of their failure. with the advance of knowledge these ceremonies either cease to be performed altogether or are kept up from force of habit long after the intention with which they were instituted has been forgotten. thus fallen from their high estate, no longer regarded as solemn rites on the punctual performance of which the welfare and even the life of the community depend, they sink gradually to the level of simple pageants, mummeries, and pastimes, till in the final stage of degeneration they are wholly abandoned by older people, and, from having once been the most serious occupation of the sage, become at last the idle sport of children. it is in this final stage of decay that most of the old magical rites of our european forefathers linger on at the present day, and even from this their last retreat they are fast being swept away by the rising tide of those multitudinous forces, moral, intellectual, and social, which are bearing mankind onward to a new and unknown goal. we may feel some natural regret at the disappearance of quaint customs and picturesque ceremonies, which have preserved to an age often deemed dull and prosaic something of the flavour and freshness of the olden time, some breath of the springtime of the world; yet our regret will be lessened when we remember that these pretty pageants, these now innocent diversions, had their origin in ignorance and superstition; that if they are a record of human endeavour, they are also a monument of fruitless ingenuity, of wasted labour, and of blighted hopes; and that for all their gay trappings--their flowers, their ribbons, and their music--they partake far more of tragedy than of farce. the interpretation which, following in the footsteps of w. mannhardt, i have attempted to give of these ceremonies has been not a little confirmed by the discovery, made since this book was first written, that the natives of central australia regularly practise magical ceremonies for the purpose of awakening the dormant energies of nature at the approach of what may be called the australian spring. nowhere apparently are the alternations of the seasons more sudden and the contrasts between them more striking than in the deserts of central australia, where at the end of a long period of drought the sandy and stony wilderness, over which the silence and desolation of death appear to brood, is suddenly, after a few days of torrential rain, transformed into a landscape smiling with verdure and peopled with teeming multitudes of insects and lizards, of frogs and birds. the marvellous change which passes over the face of nature at such times has been compared even by european observers to the effect of magic; no wonder, then, that the savage should regard it as such in very deed. now it is just when there is promise of the approach of a good season that the natives of central australia are wont especially to perform those magical ceremonies of which the avowed intention is to multiply the plants and animals they use as food. these ceremonies, therefore, present a close analogy to the spring customs of our european peasantry not only in the time of their celebration, but also in their aim; for we can hardly doubt that in instituting rites designed to assist the revival of plant life in spring our primitive forefathers were moved, not by any sentimental wish to smell at early violets, or pluck the rathe primrose, or watch yellow daffodils dancing in the breeze, but by the very practical consideration, certainly not formulated in abstract terms, that the life of man is inextricably bound up with that of plants, and that if they were to perish he could not survive. and as the faith of the australian savage in the efficacy of his magic rites is confirmed by observing that their performance is invariably followed, sooner or later, by that increase of vegetable and animal life which it is their object to produce, so, we may suppose, it was with european savages in the olden time. the sight of the fresh green in brake and thicket, of vernal flowers blowing on mossy banks, of swallows arriving from the south, and of the sun mounting daily higher in the sky, would be welcomed by them as so many visible signs that their enchantments were indeed taking effect, and would inspire them with a cheerful confidence that all was well with a world which they could thus mould to suit their wishes. only in autumn days, as summer slowly faded, would their confidence again be dashed by doubts and misgivings at symptoms of decay, which told how vain were all their efforts to stave off for ever the approach of winter and of death. xxix. the myth of adonis the spectacle of the great changes which annually pass over the face of the earth has powerfully impressed the minds of men in all ages, and stirred them to meditate on the causes of transformations so vast and wonderful. their curiosity has not been purely disinterested; for even the savage cannot fail to perceive how intimately his own life is bound up with the life of nature, and how the same processes which freeze the stream and strip the earth of vegetation menace him with extinction. at a certain stage of development men seem to have imagined that the means of averting the threatened calamity were in their own hands, and that they could hasten or retard the flight of the seasons by magic art. accordingly they performed ceremonies and recited spells to make the rain to fall, the sun to shine, animals to multiply, and the fruits of the earth to grow. in course of time the slow advance of knowledge, which has dispelled so many cherished illusions, convinced at least the more thoughtful portion of mankind that the alternations of summer and winter, of spring and autumn, were not merely the result of their own magical rites, but that some deeper cause, some mightier power, was at work behind the shifting scenes of nature. they now pictured to themselves the growth and decay of vegetation, the birth and death of living creatures, as effects of the waxing or waning strength of divine beings, of gods and goddesses, who were born and died, who married and begot children, on the pattern of human life. thus the old magical theory of the seasons was displaced, or rather supplemented, by a religious theory. for although men now attributed the annual cycle of change primarily to corresponding changes in their deities, they still thought that by performing certain magical rites they could aid the god who was the principle of life, in his struggle with the opposing principle of death. they imagined that they could recruit his failing energies and even raise him from the dead. the ceremonies which they observed for this purpose were in substance a dramatic representation of the natural processes which they wished to facilitate; for it is a familiar tenet of magic that you can produce any desired effect by merely imitating it. and as they now explained the fluctuations of growth and decay, of reproduction and dissolution, by the marriage, the death, and the rebirth or revival of the gods, their religious or rather magical dramas turned in great measure on these themes. they set forth the fruitful union of the powers of fertility, the sad death of one at least of the divine partners, and his joyful resurrection. thus a religious theory was blended with a magical practice. the combination is familiar in history. indeed, few religions have ever succeeded in wholly extricating themselves from the old trammels of magic. the inconsistency of acting on two opposite principles, however it may vex the soul of the philosopher, rarely troubles the common man; indeed he is seldom even aware of it. his affair is to act, not to analyse the motives of his action. if mankind had always been logical and wise, history would not be a long chronicle of folly and crime. of the changes which the seasons bring with them, the most striking within the temperate zone are those which affect vegetation. the influence of the seasons on animals, though great, is not nearly so manifest. hence it is natural that in the magical dramas designed to dispel winter and bring back spring the emphasis should be laid on vegetation, and that trees and plants should figure in them more prominently than beasts and birds. yet the two sides of life, the vegetable and the animal, were not dissociated in the minds of those who observed the ceremonies. indeed they commonly believed that the tie between the animal and the vegetable world was even closer than it really is; hence they often combined the dramatic representation of reviving plants with a real or a dramatic union of the sexes for the purpose of furthering at the same time and by the same act the multiplication of fruits, of animals, and of men. to them the principle of life and fertility, whether animal or vegetable, was one and indivisible. to live and to cause to live, to eat food and to beget children, these were the primary wants of men in the past, and they will be the primary wants of men in the future so long as the world lasts. other things may be added to enrich and beautify human life, but unless these wants are first satisfied, humanity itself must cease to exist. these two things, therefore, food and children, were what men chiefly sought to procure by the performance of magical rites for the regulation of the seasons. nowhere, apparently, have these rites been more widely and solemnly celebrated than in the lands which border the eastern mediterranean. under the names of osiris, tammuz, adonis, and attis, the peoples of egypt and western asia represented the yearly decay and revival of life, especially of vegetable life, which they personified as a god who annually died and rose again from the dead. in name and detail the rites varied from place to place: in substance they were the same. the supposed death and resurrection of this oriental deity, a god of many names but of essentially one nature, is now to be examined. we begin with tammuz or adonis. the worship of adonis was practised by the semitic peoples of babylonia and syria, and the greeks borrowed it from them as early as the seventh century before christ. the true name of the deity was tammuz: the appellation of adonis is merely the semitic _adon,_ "lord," a title of honour by which his worshippers addressed him. but the greeks through a misunderstanding converted the title of honour into a proper name. in the religious literature of babylonia tammuz appears as the youthful spouse or lover of ishtar, the great mother goddess, the embodiment of the reproductive energies of nature. the references to their connexion with each other in myth and ritual are both fragmentary and obscure, but we gather from them that every year tammuz was believed to die, passing away from the cheerful earth to the gloomy subterranean world, and that every year his divine mistress journeyed in quest of him "to the land from which there is no returning, to the house of darkness, where dust lies on door and bolt." during her absence the passion of love ceased to operate: men and beasts alike forgot to reproduce their kinds: all life was threatened with extinction. so intimately bound up with the goddess were the sexual functions of the whole animal kingdom that without her presence they could not be discharged. a messenger of the great god ea was accordingly despatched to rescue the goddess on whom so much depended. the stern queen of the infernal regions, allatu or eresh-kigal by name, reluctantly allowed ishtar to be sprinkled with the water of life and to depart, in company probably with her lover tammuz, that the two might return together to the upper world, and that with their return all nature might revive. laments for the departed tammuz are contained in several babylonian hymns, which liken him to plants that quickly fade. he is "a tamarisk that in the garden has drunk no water, whose crown in the field has brought forth no blossom. a willow that rejoiced not by the watercourse, a willow whose roots were torn up. a herb that in the garden had drunk no water." his death appears to have been annually mourned, to the shrill music of flutes, by men and women about midsummer in the month named after him, the month of tammuz. the dirges were seemingly chanted over an effigy of the dead god, which was washed with pure water, anointed with oil, and clad in a red robe, while the fumes of incense rose into the air, as if to stir his dormant senses by their pungent fragrance and wake him from the sleep of death. in one of these dirges, inscribed _lament of the flutes for tammuz,_ we seem still to hear the voices of the singers chanting the sad refrain and to catch, like far-away music, the wailing notes of the flutes: "at his vanishing away she lifts up a lament, 'oh my child!' at his vanishing away she lifts up a lament; 'my damu!' at his vanishing away she lifts up a lament. 'my enchanter and priest!' at his vanishing away she lifts up a lament, at the shining cedar, rooted in a spacious place, in eanna, above and below, she lifts up a lament. like the lament that a house lifts up for its master, lifts she up a lament, like the lament that a city lifts up for its lord, lifts she up a lament. her lament is the lament for a herb that grows not in the bed, her lament is the lament for the corn that grows not in the ear. her chamber is a possession that brings not forth a possession, a weary woman, a weary child, forspent. her lament is for a great river, where no willows grow, her lament is for a field, where corn and herbs grow not. her lament is for a pool, where fishes grow not. her lament is for a thickest of reeds, where no reeds grow. her lament is for woods, where tamarisks grow not. her lament is for a wilderness where no cypresses (?) grow. her lament is for the depth of a garden of trees, where honey and wine grow not. her lament is for meadows, where no plants grow. her lament is for a palace, where length of life grows not." the tragical story and the melancholy rites of adonis are better known to us from the descriptions of greek writers than from the fragments of babylonian literature or the brief reference of the prophet ezekiel, who saw the women of jerusalem weeping for tammuz at the north gate of the temple. mirrored in the glass of greek mythology, the oriental deity appears as a comely youth beloved by aphrodite. in his infancy the goddess hid him in a chest, which she gave in charge to persephone, queen of the nether world. but when persephone opened the chest and beheld the beauty of the babe, she refused to give him back to aphrodite, though the goddess of love went down herself to hell to ransom her dear one from the power of the grave. the dispute between the two goddesses of love and death was settled by zeus, who decreed that adonis should abide with persephone in the under world for one part of the year, and with aphrodite in the upper world for another part. at last the fair youth was killed in hunting by a wild boar, or by the jealous ares, who turned himself into the likeness of a boar in order to compass the death of his rival. bitterly did aphrodite lament her loved and lost adonis. in this form of the myth, the contest between aphrodite and persephone for the possession of adonis clearly reflects the struggle between ishtar and allatu in the land of the dead, while the decision of zeus that adonis is to spend one part of the year under ground and another part above ground is merely a greek version of the annual disappearance and reappearance of tammuz. xxx. adonis in syria the myth of adonis was localised and his rites celebrated with much solemnity at two places in western asia. one of these was byblus on the coast of syria, the other was paphos in cyprus. both were great seats of the worship of aphrodite, or rather of her semitic counterpart, astarte; and of both, if we accept the legends, cinyras, the father of adonis, was king. of the two cities byblus was the more ancient; indeed it claimed to be the oldest city in phoenicia, and to have been founded in the early ages of the world by the great god el, whom greeks and romans identified with cronus and saturn respectively. however that may have been, in historical times it ranked as a holy place, the religious capital of the country, the mecca or jerusalem of the phoenicians. the city stood on a height beside the sea, and contained a great sanctuary of astarte, where in the midst of a spacious open court, surrounded by cloisters and approached from below by staircases, rose a tall cone or obelisk, the holy image of the goddess. in this sanctuary the rites of adonis were celebrated. indeed the whole city was sacred to him, and the river nahr ibrahim, which falls into the sea a little to the south of byblus, bore in antiquity the name of adonis. this was the kingdom of cinyras. from the earliest to the latest times the city appears to have been ruled by kings, assisted perhaps by a senate or council of elders. the last king of byblus bore the ancient name of cinyras, and was beheaded by pompey the great for his tyrannous excesses. his legendary namesake cinyras is said to have founded a sanctuary of aphrodite, that is, of astarte, at a place on mount lebanon, distant a day's journey from the capital. the spot was probably aphaca, at the source of the river adonis, half-way between byblus and baalbec; for at aphaca there was a famous grove and sanctuary of astarte which constantine destroyed on account of the flagitious character of the worship. the site of the temple has been discovered by modern travellers near the miserable village which still bears the name of afka at the head of the wild, romantic, wooded gorge of the adonis. the hamlet stands among groves of noble walnut-trees on the brink of the lyn. a little way off the river rushes from a cavern at the foot of a mighty amphitheatre of towering cliffs to plunge in a series of cascades into the awful depths of the glen. the deeper it descends, the ranker and denser grows the vegetation, which, sprouting from the crannies and fissures of the rocks, spreads a green veil over the roaring or murmuring stream in the tremendous chasm below. there is something delicious, almost intoxicating, in the freshness of these tumbling waters, in the sweetness and purity of the mountain air, in the vivid green of the vegetation. the temple, of which some massive hewn blocks and a fine column of syenite granite still mark the site, occupied a terrace facing the source of the river and commanding a magnificent prospect. across the foam and the roar of the waterfalls you look up to the cavern and away to the top of the sublime precipices above. so lofty is the cliff that the goats which creep along its ledges to browse on the bushes appear like ants to the spectator hundreds of feet below. seaward the view is especially impressive when the sun floods the profound gorge with golden light, revealing all the fantastic buttresses and rounded towers of its mountain rampart, and falling softly on the varied green of the woods which clothe its depths. it was here that, according to the legend, adonis met aphrodite for the first or the last time, and here his mangled body was buried. a fairer scene could hardly be imagined for a story of tragic love and death. yet, sequestered as the valley is and must always have been, it is not wholly deserted. a convent or a village may be observed here and there standing out against the sky on the top of some beetling crag, or clinging to the face of a nearly perpendicular cliff high above the foam and the din of the river; and at evening the lights that twinkle through the gloom betray the presence of human habitations on slopes which might seem inaccessible to man. in antiquity the whole of the lovely vale appears to have been dedicated to adonis, and to this day it is haunted by his memory; for the heights which shut it in are crested at various points by ruined monuments of his worship, some of them overhanging dreadful abysses, down which it turns the head dizzy to look and see the eagles wheeling about their nests far below. one such monument exists at ghineh. the face of a great rock, above a roughly hewn recess, is here carved with figures of adonis and aphrodite. he is portrayed with spear in rest, awaiting the attack of a bear, while she is seated in an attitude of sorrow. her grief-stricken figure may well be the mourning aphrodite of the lebanon described by macrobius, and the recess in the rock is perhaps her lover's tomb. every year, in the belief of his worshippers, adonis was wounded to death on the mountains, and every year the face of nature itself was dyed with his sacred blood. so year by year the syrian damsels lamented his untimely fate, while the red anemone, his flower, bloomed among the cedars of lebanon, and the river ran red to the sea, fringing the winding shores of the blue mediterranean, whenever the wind set inshore, with a sinuous band of crimson. xxxi. adonis in cyprus the island of cyprus lies but one day's sail from the coast of syria. indeed, on fine summer evenings its mountains may be descried looming low and dark against the red fires of sunset. with its rich mines of copper and its forests of firs and stately cedars, the island naturally attracted a commercial and maritime people like the phoenicians; while the abundance of its corn, its wine, and its oil must have rendered it in their eyes a land of promise by comparison with the niggardly nature of their own rugged coast, hemmed in between the mountains and the sea. accordingly they settled in cyprus at a very early date and remained there long after the greeks had also established themselves on its shores; for we know from inscriptions and coins that phoenician kings reigned at citium, the chittim of the hebrews, down to the time of alexander the great. naturally the semitic colonists brought their gods with them from the mother-land. they worshipped baal of the lebanon, who may well have been adonis, and at amathus on the south coast they instituted the rites of adonis and aphrodite, or rather astarte. here, as at byblus, these rites resembled the egyptian worship of osiris so closely that some people even identified the adonis of amathus with osiris. but the great seat of the worship of aphrodite and adonis in cyprus was paphos on the south-western side of the island. among the petty kingdoms into which cyprus was divided from the earliest times until the end of the fourth century before our era paphos must have ranked with the best. it is a land of hills and billowy ridges, diversified by fields and vineyards and intersected by rivers, which in the course of ages have carved for themselves beds of such tremendous depth that travelling in the interior is difficult and tedious. the lofty range of mount olympus (the modern troodos), capped with snow the greater part of the year, screens paphos from the northerly and easterly winds and cuts it off from the rest of the island. on the slopes of the range the last pine-woods of cyprus linger, sheltering here and there monasteries in scenery not unworthy of the apennines. the old city of paphos occupied the summit of a hill about a mile from the sea; the newer city sprang up at the harbour some ten miles off. the sanctuary of aphrodite at old paphos (the modern kuklia) was one of the most celebrated shrines in the ancient world. according to herodotus, it was founded by phoenician colonists from ascalon; but it is possible that a native goddess of fertility was worshipped on the spot before the arrival of the phoenicians, and that the newcomers identified her with their own baalath or astarte, whom she may have closely resembled. if two deities were thus fused in one, we may suppose that they were both varieties of that great goddess of motherhood and fertility whose worship appears to have been spread all over western asia from a very early time. the supposition is confirmed as well by the archaic shape of her image as by the licentious character of her rites; for both that shape and those rites were shared by her with other asiatic deities. her image was simply a white cone or pyramid. in like manner, a cone was the emblem of astarte at byblus, of the native goddess whom the greeks called artemis at perga in pamphylia, and of the sun-god heliogabalus at emesa in syria. conical stones, which apparently served as idols, have also been found at golgi in cyprus, and in the phoenician temples of malta; and cones of sandstone came to light at the shrine of the "mistress of torquoise" among the barren hills and frowning precipices of sinai. in cyprus it appears that before marriage all women were formerly obliged by custom to prostitute themselves to strangers at the sanctuary of the goddess, whether she went by the name of aphrodite, astarte, or what not. similar customs prevailed in many parts of western asia. whatever its motive, the practice was clearly regarded, not as an orgy of lust, but as a solemn religious duty performed in the service of that great mother goddess of western asia whose name varied, while her type remained constant, from place to place. thus at babylon every woman, whether rich or poor, had once in her life to submit to the embraces of a stranger at the temple of mylitta, that is, of ishtar or astarte, and to dedicate to the goddess the wages earned by this sanctified harlotry. the sacred precinct was crowded with women waiting to observe the custom. some of them had to wait there for years. at heliopolis or baalbec in syria, famous for the imposing grandeur of its ruined temples, the custom of the country required that every maiden should prostitute herself to a stranger at the temple of astarte, and matrons as well as maids testified their devotion to the goddess in the same manner. the emperor constantine abolished the custom, destroyed the temple, and built a church in its stead. in phoenician temples women prostituted themselves for hire in the service of religion, believing that by this conduct they propitiated the goddess and won her favour. "it was a law of the amorites, that she who was about to marry should sit in fornication seven days by the gate." at byblus the people shaved their heads in the annual mourning for adonis. women who refused to sacrifice their hair had to give themselves up to strangers on a certain day of the festival, and the money which they thus earned was devoted to the goddess. a greek inscription found at tralles in lydia proves that the practice of religious prostitution survived in that country as late as the second century of our era. it records of a certain woman, aurelia aemilia by name, not only that she herself served the god in the capacity of a harlot at his express command, but that her mother and other female ancestors had done the same before her; and the publicity of the record, engraved on a marble column which supported a votive offering, shows that no stain attached to such a life and such a parentage. in armenia the noblest families dedicated their daughters to the service of the goddess anaitis in her temple of acilisena, where the damsels acted as prostitutes for a long time before they were given in marriage. nobody scrupled to take one of these girls to wife when her period of service was over. again, the goddess ma was served by a multitude of sacred harlots at comana in pontus, and crowds of men and women flocked to her sanctuary from the neighbouring cities and country to attend the biennial festivals or to pay their vows to the goddess. if we survey the whole of the evidence on this subject, some of which has still to be laid before the reader, we may conclude that a great mother goddess, the personification of all the reproductive energies of nature, was worshipped under different names but with a substantial similarity of myth and ritual by many peoples of western asia; that associated with her was a lover, or rather series of lovers, divine yet mortal, with whom she mated year by year, their commerce being deemed essential to the propagation of animals and plants, each in their several kind; and further, that the fabulous union of the divine pair was simulated and, as it were, multiplied on earth by the real, though temporary, union of the human sexes at the sanctuary of the goddess for the sake of thereby ensuring the fruitfulness of the ground and the increase of man and beast. at paphos the custom of religious prostitution is said to have been instituted by king cinyras, and to have been practised by his daughters, the sisters of adonis, who, having incurred the wrath of aphrodite, mated with strangers and ended their days in egypt. in this form of the tradition the wrath of aphrodite is probably a feature added by a later authority, who could only regard conduct which shocked his own moral sense as a punishment inflicted by the goddess instead of as a sacrifice regularly enjoined by her on all her devotees. at all events the story indicates that the princesses of paphos had to conform to the custom as well as women of humble birth. among the stories which were told of cinyras, the ancestor of the priestly kings of paphos and the father of adonis, there are some that deserve our attention. in the first place, he is said to have begotten his son adonis in incestuous intercourse with his daughter myrrha at a festival of the corn-goddess, at which women robed in white were wont to offer corn-wreaths as first-fruits of the harvest and to observe strict chastity for nine days. similar cases of incest with a daughter are reported of many ancient kings. it seems unlikely that such reports are without foundation, and perhaps equally improbable that they refer to mere fortuitous outbursts of unnatural lust. we may suspect that they are based on a practice actually observed for a definite reason in certain special circumstances. now in countries where the royal blood was traced through women only, and where consequently the king held office merely in virtue of his marriage with an hereditary princess, who was the real sovereign, it appears to have often happened that a prince married his own sister, the princess royal, in order to obtain with her hand the crown which otherwise would have gone to another man, perhaps to a stranger. may not the same rule of descent have furnished a motive for incest with a daughter? for it seems a natural corollary from such a rule that the king was bound to vacate the throne on the death of his wife, the queen, since he occupied it only by virtue of his marriage with her. when that marriage terminated, his right to the throne terminated with it and passed at once to his daughter's husband. hence if the king desired to reign after his wife's death, the only way in which he could legitimately continue to do so was by marrying his daughter, and thus prolonging through her the title which had formerly been his through her mother. cinyras is said to have been famed for his exquisite beauty and to have been wooed by aphrodite herself. thus it would appear, as scholars have already observed, that cinyras was in a sense a duplicate of his handsome son adonis, to whom the inflammable goddess also lost her heart. further, these stories of the love of aphrodite for two members of the royal house of paphos can hardly be dissociated from the corresponding legend told of pygmalion, a phoenician king of cyprus, who is said to have fallen in love with an image of aphrodite and taken it to his bed. when we consider that pygmalion was the father-in-law of cinyras, that the son of cinyras was adonis, and that all three, in successive generations, are said to have been concerned in a love-intrigue with aphrodite, we can hardly help concluding that the early phoenician kings of paphos, or their sons, regularly claimed to be not merely the priests of the goddess but also her lovers, in other words, that in their official capacity they personated adonis. at all events adonis is said to have reigned in cyprus, and it appears to be certain that the title of adonis was regularly borne by the sons of all the phoenician kings of the island. it is true that the title strictly signified no more than "lord"; yet the legends which connect these cyprian princes with the goddess of love make it probable that they claimed the divine nature as well as the human dignity of adonis. the story of pygmalion points to a ceremony of a sacred marriage in which the king wedded the image of aphrodite, or rather of astarte. if that was so, the tale was in a sense true, not of a single man only, but of a whole series of men, and it would be all the more likely to be told of pygmalion, if that was a common name of semitic kings in general, and of cyprian kings in particular. pygmalion, at all events, is known as the name of the king of tyre from whom his sister dido fled; and a king of citium and idalium in cyprus, who reigned in the time of alexander the great, was also called pygmalion, or rather pumiyathon, the phoenician name which the greeks corrupted into pygmalion. further, it deserves to be noted that the names pygmalion and astarte occur together in a punic inscription on a gold medallion which was found in a grave at carthage; the characters of the inscription are of the earliest type. as the custom of religious prostitution at paphos is said to have been founded by king cinyras and observed by his daughters, we may surmise that the kings of paphos played the part of the divine bridegroom in a less innocent rite than the form of marriage with a statue; in fact, that at certain festivals each of them had to mate with one or more of the sacred harlots of the temple, who played astarte to his adonis. if that was so, there is more truth than has commonly been supposed in the reproach cast by the christian fathers that the aphrodite worshipped by cinyras was a common whore. the fruit of their union would rank as sons and daughters of the deity, and would in time become the parents of gods and goddesses, like their fathers and mothers before them. in this manner paphos, and perhaps all sanctuaries of the great asiatic goddess where sacred prostitution was practised, might be well stocked with human deities, the offspring of the divine king by his wives, concubines, and temple harlots. any one of these might probably succeed his father on the throne or be sacrificed in his stead whenever stress of war or other grave junctures called, as they sometimes did, for the death of a royal victim. such a tax, levied occasionally on the king's numerous progeny for the good of the country, would neither extinguish the divine stock nor break the father's heart, who divided his paternal affection among so many. at all events, if, as there seems reason to believe, semitic kings were often regarded at the same time as hereditary deities, it is easy to understand the frequency of semitic personal names which imply that the bearers of them were the sons or daughters, the brothers or sisters, the fathers or mothers of a god, and we need not resort to the shifts employed by some scholars to evade the plain sense of the words. this interpretation is confirmed by a parallel egyptian usage; for in egypt, where the kings were worshipped as divine, the queen was called "the wife of the god" or "the mother of the god," and the title "father of the god" was borne not only by the king's real father but also by his father-in-law. similarly, perhaps, among the semites any man who sent his daughter to swell the royal harem may have been allowed to call himself "the father of the god." if we may judge by his name, the semitic king who bore the name of cinyras was, like king david, a harper; for the name of cinyras is clearly connected with the greek _cinyra,_ "a lyre," which in its turn comes from the semitic _kinnor,_ "a lyre," the very word applied to the instrument on which david played before saul. we shall probably not err in assuming that at paphos as at jerusalem the music of the lyre or harp was not a mere pastime designed to while away an idle hour, but formed part of the service of religion, the moving influence of its melodies being perhaps set down, like the effect of wine, to the direct inspiration of a deity. certainly at jerusalem the regular clergy of the temple prophesied to the music of harps, of psalteries, and of cymbals; and it appears that the irregular clergy also, as we may call the prophets, depended on some such stimulus for inducing the ecstatic state which they took for immediate converse with the divinity. thus we read of a band of prophets coming down from a high place with a psaltery, a timbrel, a pipe, and a harp before them, and prophesying as they went. again, when the united forces of judah and ephraim were traversing the wilderness of moab in pursuit of the enemy, they could find no water for three days, and were like to die of thirst, they and the beasts of burden. in this emergency the prophet elisha, who was with the army, called for a minstrel and bade him play. under the influence of the music he ordered the soldiers to dig trenches in the sandy bed of the waterless waddy through which lay the line of march. they did so, and next morning the trenches were full of the water that had drained down into them underground from the desolate, forbidding mountains on either hand. the prophet's success in striking water in the wilderness resembles the reported success of modern dowsers, though his mode of procedure was different. incidentally he rendered another service to his countrymen. for the skulking moabites from their lairs among the rocks saw the red sun of the desert reflected in the water, and taking it for the blood, or perhaps rather for an omen of the blood, of their enemies, they plucked up heart to attack the camp and were defeated with great slaughter. again, just as the cloud of melancholy which from time to time darkened the moody mind of saul was viewed as an evil spirit from the lord vexing him, so on the other hand the solemn strains of the harp, which soothed and composed his troubled thoughts, may well have seemed to the hag-ridden king the very voice of god or of his good angel whispering peace. even in our own day a great religious writer, himself deeply sensitive to the witchery of music, has said that musical notes, with all their power to fire the blood and melt the heart, cannot be mere empty sounds and nothing more; no, they have escaped from some higher sphere, they are outpourings of eternal harmony, the voice of angels, the magnificat of saints. it is thus that the rude imaginings of primitive man are transfigured and his feeble lispings echoed with a rolling reverberation in the musical prose of newman. indeed the influence of music on the development of religion is a subject which would repay a sympathetic study. for we cannot doubt that this, the most intimate and affecting of all the arts, has done much to create as well as to express the religious emotions, thus modifying more or less deeply the fabric of belief to which at first sight it seems only to minister. the musician has done his part as well as the prophet and the thinker in the making of religion. every faith has its appropriate music, and the difference between the creeds might almost be expressed in musical notation. the interval, for example, which divides the wild revels of cybele from the stately ritual of the catholic church is measured by the gulf which severs the dissonant clash of cymbals and tambourines from the grave harmonies of palestrina and handel. a different spirit breathes in the difference of the music. xxxii. the ritual of adonis at the festivals of adonis, which were held in western asia and in greek lands, the death of the god was annually mourned, with a bitter wailing, chiefly by women; images of him, dressed to resemble corpses, were carried out as to burial and then thrown into the sea or into springs; and in some places his revival was celebrated on the following day. but at different places the ceremonies varied somewhat in the manner and apparently also in the season of their celebration. at alexandria images of aphrodite and adonis were displayed on two couches; beside them were set ripe fruits of all kinds, cakes, plants growing in flower-pots, and green bowers twined with anise. the marriage of the lovers was celebrated one day, and on the morrow women attired as mourners, with streaming hair and bared breasts, bore the image of the dead adonis to the sea-shore and committed it to the waves. yet they sorrowed not without hope, for they sang that the lost one would come back again. the date at which this alexandrian ceremony was observed is not expressly stated; but from the mention of the ripe fruits it has been inferred that it took place in late summer. in the great phoenician sanctuary of astarte at byblus the death of adonis was annually mourned, to the shrill wailing notes of the flute, with weeping, lamentation, and beating of the breast; but next day he was believed to come to life again and ascend up to heaven in the presence of his worshippers. the disconsolate believers, left behind on earth, shaved their heads as the egyptians did on the death of the divine bull apis; women who could not bring themselves to sacrifice their beautiful tresses had to give themselves up to strangers on a certain day of the festival, and to dedicate to astarte the wages of their shame. this phoenician festival appears to have been a vernal one, for its date was determined by the discoloration of the river adonis, and this has been observed by modern travellers to occur in spring. at that season the red earth washed down from the mountains by the rain tinges the water of the river, and even the sea, for a great way with a blood-red hue, and the crimson stain was believed to be the blood of adonis, annually wounded to death by the boar on mount lebanon. again, the scarlet anemone is said to have sprung from the blood of adonis, or to have been stained by it; and as the anemone blooms in syria about easter, this may be thought to show that the festival of adonis, or at least one of his festivals, was held in spring. the name of the flower is probably derived from naaman ("darling"), which seems to have been an epithet of adonis. the arabs still call the anemone "wounds of the naaman." the red rose also was said to owe its hue to the same sad occasion; for aphrodite, hastening to her wounded lover, trod on a bush of white roses; the cruel thorns tore her tender flesh, and her sacred blood dyed the white roses for ever red. it would be idle, perhaps, to lay much weight on evidence drawn from the calendar of flowers, and in particular to press an argument so fragile as the bloom of the rose. yet so far as it counts at all, the tale which links the damask rose with the death of adonis points to a summer rather than to a spring celebration of his passion. in attica, certainly, the festival fell at the height of summer. for the fleet which athens fitted out against syracuse, and by the destruction of which her power was permanently crippled, sailed at midsummer, and by an ominous coincidence the sombre rites of adonis were being celebrated at the very time. as the troops marched down to the harbour to embark, the streets through which they passed were lined with coffins and corpse-like effigies, and the air was rent with the noise of women wailing for the dead adonis. the circumstance cast a gloom over the sailing of the most splendid armament that athens ever sent to sea. many ages afterwards, when the emperor julian made his first entry into antioch, he found in like manner the gay, the luxurious capital of the east plunged in mimic grief for the annual death of adonis; and if he had any presentiment of coming evil, the voices of lamentation which struck upon his ear must have seemed to sound his knell. the resemblance of these ceremonies to the indian and european ceremonies which i have described elsewhere is obvious. in particular, apart from the somewhat doubtful date of its celebration, the alexandrian ceremony is almost identical with the indian. in both of them the marriage of two divine beings, whose affinity with vegetation seems indicated by the fresh plants with which they are surrounded, is celebrated in effigy, and the effigies are afterwards mourned over and thrown into the water. from the similarity of these customs to each other and to the spring and midsummer customs of modern europe we should naturally expect that they all admit of a common explanation. hence, if the explanation which i have adopted of the latter is correct, the ceremony of the death and resurrection of adonis must also have been a dramatic representation of the decay and revival of plant life. the inference thus based on the resemblance of the customs is confirmed by the following features in the legend and ritual of adonis. his affinity with vegetation comes out at once in the common story of his birth. he was said to have been born from a myrrh-tree, the bark of which bursting, after a ten months' gestation, allowed the lovely infant to come forth. according to some, a boar rent the bark with his tusk and so opened a passage for the babe. a faint rationalistic colour was given to the legend by saying that his mother was a woman named myrrh, who had been turned into a myrrh-tree soon after she had conceived the child. the use of myrrh as incense at the festival of adonis may have given rise to the fable. we have seen that incense was burnt at the corresponding babylonian rites, just as it was burnt by the idolatrous hebrews in honour of the queen of heaven, who was no other than astarte. again, the story that adonis spent half, or according to others a third, of the year in the lower world and the rest of it in the upper world, is explained most simply and naturally by supposing that he represented vegetation, especially the corn, which lies buried in the earth half the year and reappears above ground the other half. certainly of the annual phenomena of nature there is none which suggests so obviously the idea of death and resurrection as the disappearance and reappearance of vegetation in autumn and spring. adonis has been taken for the sun; but there is nothing in the sun's annual course within the temperate and tropical zones to suggest that he is dead for half or a third of the year and alive for the other half or two-thirds. he might, indeed, be conceived as weakened in winter, but dead he could not be thought to be; his daily reappearance contradicts the supposition. within the arctic circle, where the sun annually disappears for a continuous period which varies from twenty-four hours to six months according to the latitude, his yearly death and resurrection would certainly be an obvious idea; but no one except the unfortunate astronomer bailly has maintained that the adonis worship came from the arctic regions. on the other hand, the annual death and revival of vegetation is a conception which readily presents itself to men in every stage of savagery and civilisation; and the vastness of the scale on which this ever-recurring decay and regeneration takes place, together with man's intimate dependence on it for subsistence, combine to render it the most impressive annual occurrence in nature, at least within the temperate zones. it is no wonder that a phenomenon so important, so striking, and so universal should, by suggesting similar ideas, have given rise to similar rites in many lands. we may, therefore, accept as probable an explanation of the adonis worship which accords so well with the facts of nature and with the analogy of similar rites in other lands. moreover, the explanation is countenanced by a considerable body of opinion amongst the ancients themselves, who again and again interpreted the dying and reviving god as the reaped and sprouting grain. the character of tammuz or adonis as a corn-spirit comes out plainly in an account of his festival given by an arabic writer of the tenth century. in describing the rites and sacrifices observed at the different seasons of the year by the heathen syrians of harran, he says: "tammuz (july). in the middle of this month is the festival of el-bûgât, that is, of the weeping women, and this is the tâ-uz festival, which is celebrated in honour of the god tâ-uz. the women bewail him, because his lord slew him so cruelly, ground his bones in a mill, and then scattered them to the wind. the women (during this festival) eat nothing which has been ground in a mill, but limit their diet to steeped wheat, sweet vetches, dates, raisins, and the like." tâ-uz, who is no other than tammuz, is here like burns's john barleycorn: "they wasted o'er a scorching flame the marrow of his bones; but a miller us'd him worst of all-- for he crush'd him between two stones." this concentration, so to say, of the nature of adonis upon the cereal crops is characteristic of the stage of culture reached by his worshippers in historical times. they had left the nomadic life of the wandering hunter and herdsman far behind them; for ages they had been settled on the land, and had depended for their subsistence mainly on the products of tillage. the berries and roots of the wilderness, the grass of the pastures, which had been matters of vital importance to their ruder forefathers, were now of little moment to them: more and more their thoughts and energies were engrossed by the staple of their life, the corn; more and more accordingly the propitiation of the deities of fertility in general and of the corn-spirit in particular tended to become the central feature of their religion. the aim they set before themselves in celebrating the rites was thoroughly practical. it was no vague poetical sentiment which prompted them to hail with joy the rebirth of vegetation and to mourn its decline. hunger, felt or feared, was the mainspring of the worship of adonis. it has been suggested by father lagrange that the mourning for adonis was essentially a harvest rite designed to propitiate the corngod, who was then either perishing under the sickles of the reapers, or being trodden to death under the hoofs of the oxen on the threshing-floor. while the men slew him, the women wept crocodile tears at home to appease his natural indignation by a show of grief for his death. the theory fits in well with the dates of the festivals, which fell in spring or summer; for spring and summer, not autumn, are the seasons of the barley and wheat harvests in the lands which worshipped adonis. further, the hypothesis is confirmed by the practice of the egyptian reapers, who lamented, calling upon isis, when they cut the first corn; and it is recommended by the analogous customs of many hunting tribes, who testify great respect for the animals which they kill and eat. thus interpreted the death of adonis is not the natural decay of vegetation in general under the summer heat or the winter cold; it is the violent destruction of the corn by man, who cuts it down on the field, stamps it to pieces on the threshing-floor, and grinds it to powder in the mill. that this was indeed the principal aspect in which adonis presented himself in later times to the agricultural peoples of the levant, may be admitted; but whether from the beginning he had been the corn and nothing but the corn, may be doubted. at an earlier period he may have been to the herdsman, above all, the tender herbage which sprouts after rain, offering rich pasture to the lean and hungry cattle. earlier still he may have embodied the spirit of the nuts and berries which the autumn woods yield to the savage hunter and his squaw. and just as the husband-man must propitiate the spirit of the corn which he consumes, so the herdsman must appease the spirit of the grass and leaves which his cattle munch, and the hunter must soothe the spirit of the roots which he digs, and of the fruits which he gathers from the bough. in all cases the propitiation of the injured and angry, sprite would naturally comprise elaborate excuses and apologies, accompanied by loud lamentations at his decease whenever, through some deplorable accident or necessity, he happened to be murdered as well as robbed. only we must bear in mind that the savage hunter and herdsman of those early days had probably not yet attained to the abstract idea of vegetation in general; and that accordingly, so far as adonis existed for them at all, he must have been the _adon_ or lord of each individual tree and plant rather than a personification of vegetable life as a whole. thus there would be as many adonises as there were trees and shrubs, and each of them might expect to receive satisfaction for any damage done to his person or property. and year by year, when the trees were deciduous, every adonis would seem to bleed to death with the red leaves of autumn and to come to life again with the fresh green of spring. there is some reason to think that in early times adonis was sometimes personated by a living man who died a violent death in the character of the god. further, there is evidence which goes to show that among the agricultural peoples of the eastern mediterranean, the corn-spirit, by whatever name he was known, was often represented, year by year, by human victims slain on the harvest-field. if that was so, it seems likely that the propitiation of the corn-spirit would tend to fuse to some extent with the worship of the dead. for the spirits of these victims might be thought to return to life in the ears which they had fattened with their blood, and to die a second death at the reaping of the corn. now the ghosts of those who have perished by violence are surly and apt to wreak their vengeance on their slayers whenever an opportunity offers. hence the attempt to appease the souls of the slaughtered victims would naturally blend, at least in the popular conception, with the attempt to pacify the slain corn-spirit. and as the dead came back in the sprouting corn, so they might be thought to return in the spring flowers, waked from their long sleep by the soft vernal airs. they had been laid to their rest under the sod. what more natural than to imagine that the violets and the hyacinths, the roses and the anemones, sprang from their dust, were empurpled or incarnadined by their blood, and contained some portion of their spirit? "i sometimes think that never blows so red the rose as where some buried caesar bled; that every hyacinth the garden wears dropt in her lap from some once lovely head. "and this reviving herb whose tender green fledges the river-lip on which we lean-- ah, lean upon it lightly, for who knows from what once lovely lip it springs unseen?" in the summer after the battle of landen, the most sanguinary battle of the seventeenth century in europe, the earth, saturated with the blood of twenty thousand slain, broke forth into millions of poppies, and the traveller who passed that vast sheet of scarlet might well fancy that the earth had indeed given up her dead. at athens the great commemoration of the dead fell in spring about the middle of march, when the early flowers are in bloom. then the dead were believed to rise from their graves and go about the streets, vainly endeavouring to enter the temples and dwellings, which were barred against these perturbed spirits with ropes, buckthorn, and pitch. the name of the festival, according to the most obvious and natural interpretation, means the festival of flowers, and the title would fit well with the substance of the ceremonies if at that season the poor ghosts were indeed thought to creep from the narrow house with the opening flowers. there may therefore be a measure of truth in the theory of renan, who saw in the adonis worship a dreamy voluptuous cult of death, conceived not as the king of terrors, but as an insidious enchanter who lures his victims to himself and lulls them into an eternal sleep. the infinite charm of nature in the lebanon, he thought, lends itself to religious emotions of this sensuous, visionary sort, hovering vaguely between pain and pleasure, between slumber and tears. it would doubtless be a mistake to attribute to syrian peasants the worship of a conception so purely abstract as that of death in general. yet it may be true that in their simple minds the thought of the reviving spirit of vegetation was blent with the very concrete notion of the ghosts of the dead, who come to life again in spring days with the early flowers, with the tender green of the corn and the many-tinted blossoms of the trees. thus their views of the death and resurrection of nature would be coloured by their views of the death and resurrection of man, by their personal sorrows and hopes and fears. in like manner we cannot doubt that renan's theory of adonis was itself deeply tinged by passionate memories, memories of the slumber akin to death which sealed his own eyes on the slopes of the lebanon, memories of the sister who sleeps in the land of adonis never again to wake with the anemones and the roses. xxxiii. the gardens of adonis perhaps the best proof that adonis was a deity of vegetation, and especially of the corn, is furnished by the gardens of adonis, as they were called. these were baskets or pots filled with earth, in which wheat, barley, lettuces, fennel, and various kinds of flowers were sown and tended for eight days, chiefly or exclusively by women. fostered by the sun's heat, the plants shot up rapidly, but having no root they withered as rapidly away, and at the end of eight days were carried out with the images of the dead adonis, and flung with them into the sea or into springs. these gardens of adonis are most naturally interpreted as representatives of adonis or manifestations of his power; they represented him, true to his original nature, in vegetable form, while the images of him, with which they were carried out and cast into the water, portrayed him in his later human shape. all these adonis ceremonies, if i am right, were originally intended as charms to promote the growth or revival of vegetation; and the principle by which they were supposed to produce this effect was homoeopathic or imitative magic. for ignorant people suppose that by mimicking the effect which they desire to produce they actually help to produce it; thus by sprinkling water they make rain, by lighting a fire they make sunshine, and so on. similarly, by mimicking the growth of crops they hope to ensure a good harvest. the rapid growth of the wheat and barley in the gardens of adonis was intended to make the corn shoot up; and the throwing of the gardens and of the images into the water was a charm to secure a due supply of fertilising rain. the same, i take it, was the object of throwing the effigies of death and the carnival into water in the corresponding ceremonies of modern europe. certainly the custom of drenching with water a leaf-clad person, who undoubtedly personifies vegetation, is still resorted to in europe for the express purpose of producing rain. similarly the custom of throwing water on the last corn cut at harvest, or on the person who brings it home (a custom observed in germany and france, and till lately in england and scotland), is in some places practised with the avowed intent to procure rain for the next year's crops. thus in wallachia and amongst the roumanians in transylvania, when a girl is bringing home a crown made of the last ears of corn cut at harvest, all who meet her hasten to throw water on her, and two farm-servants are placed at the door for the purpose; for they believe that if this were not done, the crops next year would perish from drought. at the spring ploughing in prussia, when the ploughmen and sowers returned in the evening from their work in the fields, the farmer's wife and the servants used to splash water over them. the ploughmen and sowers retorted by seizing every one, throwing them into the pond, and ducking them under the water. the farmer's wife might claim exemption on payment of a forfeit, but every one else had to be ducked. by observing this custom they hoped to ensure a due supply of rain for the seed. the opinion that the gardens of adonis are essentially charms to promote the growth of vegetation, especially of the crops, and that they belong to the same class of customs as those spring and mid-summer folk-customs of modern europe which i have described else-where, does not rest for its evidence merely on the intrinsic probability of the case. fortunately we are able to show that gardens of adonis (if we may use the expression in a general sense) are still planted, first, by a primitive race at their sowing season, and, second, by european peasants at midsummer. amongst the oraons and mundas of bengal, when the time comes for planting out the rice which has been grown in seed-beds, a party of young people of both sexes go to the forest and cut a young karma-tree, or the branch of one. bearing it in triumph they return dancing, singing, and beating drums, and plant it in the middle of the village dancing-ground. a sacrifice is offered to the tree; and next morning the youth of both sexes, linked arm-in-arm, dance in a great circle round the karma-tree, which is decked with strips of coloured cloth and sham bracelets and necklets of plaited straw. as a preparation for the festival, the daughters of the headman of the village cultivate blades of barley in a peculiar way. the seed is sown in moist, sandy soil, mixed with turmeric, and the blades sprout and unfold of a pale-yellow or primrose colour. on the day of the festival the girls take up these blades and carry them in baskets to the dancing-ground, where, prostrating themselves reverentially, they place some of the plants before the karma-tree. finally, the karma-tree is taken away and thrown into a stream or tank. the meaning of planting these barley blades and then presenting them to the karma-tree is hardly open to question. trees are supposed to exercise a quickening influence upon the growth of crops, and amongst the very people in question--the mundas or mundaris--"the grove deities are held responsible for the crops." therefore, when at the season for planting out the rice the mundas bring in a tree and treat it with so much respect, their object can only be to foster thereby the growth of the rice which is about to be planted out; and the custom of causing barley blades to sprout rapidly and then presenting them to the tree must be intended to subserve the same purpose, perhaps by reminding the tree-spirit of his duty towards the crops, and stimulating his activity by this visible example of rapid vegetable growth. the throwing of the karma-tree into the water is to be interpreted as a rain-charm. whether the barley blades are also thrown into the water is not said; but if my interpretation of the custom is right, probably they are so. a distinction between this bengal custom and the greek rites of adonis is that in the former the tree-spirit appears in his original form as a tree; whereas in the adonis worship he appears in human form, represented as a dead man, though his vegetable nature is indicated by the gardens of adonis, which are, so to say, a secondary manifestation of his original power as a tree-spirit. gardens of adonis are cultivated also by the hindoos, with the intention apparently of ensuring the fertility both of the earth and of mankind. thus at oodeypoor in rajputana a festival is held in honour of gouri, or isani, the goddess of abundance. the rites begin when the sun enters the sign of the ram, the opening of the hindoo year. an image of the goddess gouri is made of earth, and a smaller one of her husband iswara, and the two are placed together. a small trench is next dug, barley is sown in it, and the ground watered and heated artificially till the grain sprouts, when the women dance round it hand in hand, invoking the blessing of gouri on their husbands. after that the young corn is taken up and distributed by the women to the men, who wear it in their turbans. in these rites the distribution of the barley shoots to the men, and the invocation of a blessing on their husbands by the wives, point clearly to the desire of offspring as one motive for observing the custom. the same motive probably explains the use of gardens of adonis at the marriage of brahmans in the madras presidency. seeds of five or nine sorts are mixed and sown in earthen pots, which are made specially for the purpose and are filled with earth. bride and bridegroom water the seeds both morning and evening for four days; and on the fifth day the seedlings are thrown, like the real gardens of adonis, into a tank or river. in sardinia the gardens of adonis are still planted in connexion with the great midsummer festival which bears the name of st. john. at the end of march or on the first of april a young man of the village presents himself to a girl, and asks her to be his _comare_ (gossip or sweetheart), offering to be her _compare._ the invitation is considered as an honour by the girl's family, and is gladly accepted. at the end of may the girl makes a pot of the bark of the cork-tree, fills it with earth, and sows a handful of wheat and barley in it. the pot being placed in the sun and often watered, the corn sprouts rapidly and has a good head by midsummer eve (st. john's eve, the twenty-third of june). the pot is then called _erme_ or _nenneri._ on st. john's day the young man and the girl, dressed in their best, accompanied by a long retinue and preceded by children gambolling and frolicking, move in procession to a church outside the village. here they break the pot by throwing it against the door of the church. then they sit down in a ring on the grass and eat eggs and herbs to the music of flutes. wine is mixed in a cup and passed round, each one drinking as it passes. then they join hands and sing "sweethearts of st. john" (_compare e comare di san giovanni_) over and over again, the flutes playing the while. when they tire of singing they stand up and dance gaily in a ring till evening. this is the general sardinian custom. as practised at ozieri it has some special features. in may the pots are made of cork-bark and planted with corn, as already described. then on the eve of st. john the window-sills are draped with rich cloths, on which the pots are placed, adorned with crimson and blue silk and ribbons of various colours. on each of the pots they used formerly to place a statuette or cloth doll dressed as a woman, or a priapus-like figure made of paste; but this custom, rigorously forbidden by the church, has fallen into disuse. the village swains go about in a troop to look at the pots and their decorations and to wait for the girls, who assemble on the public square to celebrate the festival. here a great bonfire is kindled, round which they dance and make merry. those who wish to be "sweethearts of st. john" act as follows. the young man stands on one side of the bonfire and the girl on the other, and they, in a manner, join hands by each grasping one end of a long stick, which they pass three times backwards and forwards across the fire, thus thrusting their hands thrice rapidly into the flames. this seals their relationship to each other. dancing and music go on till late at night. the correspondence of these sardinian pots of grain to the gardens of adonis seems complete, and the images formerly placed in them answer to the images of adonis which accompanied his gardens. customs of the same sort are observed at the same season in sicily. pairs of boys and girls become gossips of st. john on st. john's day by drawing each a hair from his or her head and performing various ceremonies over them. thus they tie the hairs together and throw them up in the air, or exchange them over a potsherd, which they afterwards break in two, preserving each a fragment with pious care. the tie formed in the latter way is supposed to last for life. in some parts of sicily the gossips of st. john present each other with plates of sprouting corn, lentils, and canary seed, which have been planted forty days before the festival. the one who receives the plate pulls a stalk of the young plants, binds it with a ribbon, and preserves it among his or her greatest treasures, restoring the platter to the giver. at catania the gossips exchange pots of basil and great cucumbers; the girls tend the basil, and the thicker it grows the more it is prized. in these midsummer customs of sardinia and sicily it is possible that, as mr. r. wünsch supposes, st. john has replaced adonis. we have seen that the rites of tammuz or adonis were commonly celebrated about midsummer; according to jerome, their date was june. in sicily gardens of adonis are still sown in spring as well as in summer, from which we may perhaps infer that sicily as well as syria celebrated of old a vernal festival of the dead and risen god. at the approach of easter, sicilian women sow wheat, lentils, and canaryseed in plates, which they keep in the dark and water every two days. the plants soon shoot up; the stalks are tied together with red ribbons, and the plates containing them are placed on the sepulchres which, with the effigies of the dead christ, are made up in catholic and greek churches on good friday, just as the gardens of adonis were placed on the grave of the dead adonis. the practice is not confined to sicily, for it is observed also at cosenza in calabria, and perhaps in other places. the whole custom--sepulchres as well as plates of sprouting grain--may be nothing but a continuation, under a different name, of the worship of adonis. nor are these sicilian and calabrian customs the only easter ceremonies which resemble the rites of adonis. "during the whole of good friday a waxen effigy of the dead christ is exposed to view in the middle of the greek churches and is covered with fervent kisses by the thronging crowd, while the whole church rings with melancholy, monotonous dirges. late in the evening, when it has grown quite dark, this waxen image is carried by the priests into the street on a bier adorned with lemons, roses, jessamine, and other flowers, and there begins a grand procession of the multitude, who move in serried ranks, with slow and solemn step, through the whole town. every man carries his taper and breaks out into doleful lamentation. at all the houses which the procession passes there are seated women with censers to fumigate the marching host. thus the community solemnly buries its christ as if he had just died. at last the waxen image is again deposited in the church, and the same lugubrious chants echo anew. these lamentations, accompanied by a strict fast, continue till midnight on saturday. as the clock strikes twelve, the bishop appears and announces the glad tidings that 'christ is risen,' to which the crowd replies, 'he is risen indeed,' and at once the whole city bursts into an uproar of joy, which finds vent in shrieks and shouts, in the endless discharge of carronades and muskets, and the explosion of fire-works of every sort. in the very same hour people plunge from the extremity of the fast into the enjoyment of the easter lamb and neat wine." in like manner the catholic church has been accustomed to bring before its followers in a visible form the death and resurrection of the redeemer. such sacred dramas are well fitted to impress the lively imagination and to stir the warm feelings of a susceptible southern race, to whom the pomp and pageantry of catholicism are more congenial than to the colder temperament of the teutonic peoples. when we reflect how often the church has skilfully contrived to plant the seeds of the new faith on the old stock of paganism, we may surmise that the easter celebration of the dead and risen christ was grafted upon a similar celebration of the dead and risen adonis, which, as we have seen reason to believe, was celebrated in syria at the same season. the type, created by greek artists, of the sorrowful goddess with her dying lover in her arms, resembles and may have been the model of the _pietà_ of christian art, the virgin with the dead body of her divine son in her lap, of which the most celebrated example is the one by michael angelo in st. peters. that noble group, in which the living sorrow of the mother contrasts so wonderfully with the languor of death in the son, is one of the finest compositions in marble. ancient greek art has bequeathed to us few works so beautiful, and none so pathetic. in this connexion a well-known statement of jerome may not be without significance. he tells us that bethlehem, the traditionary birthplace of the lord, was shaded by a grove of that still older syrian lord, adonis, and that where the infant jesus had wept, the lover of venus was bewailed. though he does not expressly say so, jerome seems to have thought that the grove of adonis had been planted by the heathen after the birth of christ for the purpose of defiling the sacred spot. in this he may have been mistaken. if adonis was indeed, as i have argued, the spirit of the corn, a more suitable name for his dwelling-place could hardly be found than bethlehem, "the house of bread," and he may well have been worshipped there at his house of bread long ages before the birth of him who said, "i am the bread of life." even on the hypothesis that adonis followed rather than preceded christ at bethlehem, the choice of his sad figure to divert the allegiance of christians from their lord cannot but strike us as eminently appropriate when we remember the similarity of the rites which commemorated the death and resurrection of the two. one of the earliest seats of the worship of the new god was antioch, and at antioch, as we have seen, the death of the old god was annually celebrated with great solemnity. a circumstance which attended the entrance of julian into the city at the time of the adonis festival may perhaps throw some light on the date of its celebration. when the emperor drew near to the city he was received with public prayers as if he had been a god, and he marvelled at the voices of a great multitude who cried that the star of salvation had dawned upon them in the east. this may doubtless have been no more than a fulsome compliment paid by an obsequious oriental crowd to the roman emperor. but it is also possible that the rising of a bright star regularly gave the signal for the festival, and that as chance would have it the star emerged above the rim of the eastern horizon at the very moment of the emperor's approach. the coincidence, if it happened, could hardly fail to strike the imagination of a superstitious and excited multitude, who might thereupon hail the great man as the deity whose coming was announced by the sign in the heavens. or the emperor may have mistaken for a greeting to himself the shouts which were addressed to the star. now astarte, the divine mistress of adonis, was identified with the planet venus, and her changes from a morning to an evening star were carefully noted by the babylonian astronomers, who drew omens from her alternate appearance and disappearance. hence we may conjecture that the festival of adonis was regularly timed to coincide with the appearance of venus as the morning or evening star. but the star which the people of antioch saluted at the festival was seen in the east; therefore, if it was indeed venus, it can only have been the morning star. at aphaca in syria, where there was a famous temple of astarte, the signal for the celebration of the rites was apparently given by the flashing of a meteor, which on a certain day fell like a star from the top of mount lebanon into the river adonis. the meteor was thought to be astarte herself, and its flight through the air might naturally be interpreted as the descent of the amorous goddess to the arms of her lover. at antioch and elsewhere the appearance of the morning star on the day of the festival may in like manner have been hailed as the coming of the goddess of love to wake her dead leman from his earthy bed. if that were so, we may surmise that it was the morning star which guided the wise men of the east to bethlehem, the hallowed spot which heard, in the language of jerome, the weeping of the infant christ and the lament for adonis. xxxiv. the myth and ritual of attis another of those gods whose supposed death and resurrection struck such deep roots into the faith and ritual of western asia is attis. he was to phrygia what adonis was to syria. like adonis, he appears to have been a god of vegetation, and his death and resurrection were annually mourned and rejoiced over at a festival in spring. the legends and rites of the two gods were so much alike that the ancients themselves sometimes identified them. attis was said to have been a fair young shepherd or herdsman beloved by cybele, the mother of the gods, a great asiatic goddess of fertility, who had her chief home in phrygia. some held that attis was her son. his birth, like that of many other heroes, is said to have been miraculous. his mother, nana, was a virgin, who conceived by putting a ripe almond or a pomegranate in her bosom. indeed in the phrygian cosmogony an almond figured as the father of all things, perhaps because its delicate lilac blossom is one of the first heralds of the spring, appearing on the bare boughs before the leaves have opened. such tales of virgin mothers are relics of an age of childish ignorance when men had not yet recognized the intercourse of the sexes as the true cause of offspring. two different accounts of the death of attis were current. according to the one he was killed by a boar, like adonis. according to the other he unmanned himself under a pine-tree, and bled to death on the spot. the latter is said to have been the local story told by the people of pessinus, a great seat of the worship of cybele, and the whole legend of which the story forms a part is stamped with a character of rudeness and savagery that speaks strongly for its antiquity. both tales might claim the support of custom, or rather both were probably invented to explain certain customs observed by the worshippers. the story of the self-mutilation of attis is clearly an attempt to account for the self-mutilation of his priests, who regularly castrated themselves on entering the service of the goddess. the story of his death by the boar may have been told to explain why his worshippers, especially the people of pessinus, abstained from eating swine. in like manner the worshippers of adonis abstained from pork, because a boar had killed their god. after his death attis is said to have been changed into a pine-tree. the worship of the phrygian mother of the gods was adopted by the romans in b.c. towards the close of their long struggle with hannibal. for their drooping spirits had been opportunely cheered by a prophecy, alleged to be drawn from that convenient farrago of nonsense, the sibylline books, that the foreign invader would be driven from italy if the great oriental goddess were brought to rome. accordingly ambassadors were despatched to her sacred city pessinus in phrygia. the small black stone which embodied the mighty divinity was entrusted to them and conveyed to rome, where it was received with great respect and installed in the temple of victory on the palatine hill. it was the middle of april when the goddess arrived, and she went to work at once. for the harvest that year was such as had not been seen for many a long day, and in the very next year hannibal and his veterans embarked for africa. as he looked his last on the coast of italy, fading behind him in the distance, he could not foresee that europe, which had repelled the arms, would yet yield to the gods, of the orient. the vanguard of the conquerors had already encamped in the heart of italy before the rearguard of the beaten army fell sullenly back from its shores. we may conjecture, though we are not told, that the mother of the gods brought with her the worship of her youthful lover or son to her new home in the west. certainly the romans were familiar with the galli, the emasculated priests of attis, before the close of the republic. these unsexed beings, in their oriental costume, with little images suspended on their breasts, appear to have been a familiar sight in the streets of rome, which they traversed in procession, carrying the image of the goddess and chanting their hymns to the music of cymbals and tambourines, flutes and horns, while the people, impressed by the fantastic show and moved by the wild strains, flung alms to them in abundance, and buried the image and its bearers under showers of roses. a further step was taken by the emperor claudius when he incorporated the phrygian worship of the sacred tree, and with it probably the orgiastic rites of attis, in the established religion of rome. the great spring festival of cybele and attis is best known to us in the form in which it was celebrated at rome; but as we are informed that the roman ceremonies were also phrygian, we may assume that they differed hardly, if at all, from their asiatic original. the order of the festival seems to have been as follows. on the twenty-second day of march, a pine-tree was cut in the woods and brought into the sanctuary of cybele, where it was treated as a great divinity. the duty of carrying the sacred tree was entrusted to a guild of tree-bearers. the trunk was swathed like a corpse with woollen bands and decked with wreaths of violets, for violets were said to have sprung from the blood of attis, as roses and anemones from the blood of adonis; and the effigy of a young man, doubtless attis himself, was tied to the middle of the stem. on the second day of the festival, the twenty-third of march, the chief ceremony seems to have been a blowing of trumpets. the third day, the twenty-fourth of march, was known as the day of blood: the archigallus or highpriest drew blood from his arms and presented it as an offering. nor was he alone in making this bloody sacrifice. stirred by the wild barbaric music of clashing cymbals, rumbling drums, droning horns, and screaming flutes, the inferior clergy whirled about in the dance with waggling heads and streaming hair, until, rapt into a frenzy of excitement and insensible to pain, they gashed their bodies with potsherds or slashed them with knives in order to bespatter the altar and the sacred tree with their flowing blood. the ghastly rite probably formed part of the mourning for attis and may have been intended to strengthen him for the resurrection. the australian aborigines cut themselves in like manner over the graves of their friends for the purpose, perhaps, of enabling them to be born again. further, we may conjecture, though we are not expressly told, that it was on the same day of blood and for the same purpose that the novices sacrificed their virility. wrought up to the highest pitch of religious excitement they dashed the severed portions of themselves against the image of the cruel goddess. these broken instruments of fertility were afterwards reverently wrapt up and buried in the earth or in subterranean chambers sacred to cybele, where, like the offering of blood, they may have been deemed instrumental in recalling attis to life and hastening the general resurrection of nature, which was then bursting into leaf and blossom in the vernal sunshine. some confirmation of this conjecture is furnished by the savage story that the mother of attis conceived by putting in her bosom a pomegranate sprung from the severed genitals of a man-monster named agdestis, a sort of double of attis. if there is any truth in this conjectural explanation of the custom, we can readily understand why other asiatic goddesses of fertility were served in like manner by eunuch priests. these feminine deities required to receive from their male ministers, who personated the divine lovers, the means of discharging their beneficent functions: they had themselves to be impregnated by the life-giving energy before they could transmit it to the world. goddesses thus ministered to by eunuch priests were the great artemis of ephesus and the great syrian astarte of hierapolis, whose sanctuary, frequented by swarms of pilgrims and enriched by the offerings of assyria and babylonia, of arabia and phoenicia, was perhaps in the days of its glory the most popular in the east. now the unsexed priests of this syrian goddess resembled those of cybele so closely that some people took them to be the same. and the mode in which they dedicated themselves to the religious life was similar. the greatest festival of the year at hierapolis fell at the beginning of spring, when multitudes thronged to the sanctuary from syria and the regions round about. while the flutes played, the drums beat, and the eunuch priests slashed themselves with knives, the religious excitement gradually spread like a wave among the crowd of onlookers, and many a one did that which he little thought to do when he came as a holiday spectator to the festival. for man after man, his veins throbbing with the music, his eyes fascinated by the sight of the streaming blood, flung his garments from him, leaped forth with a shout, and seizing one of the swords which stood ready for the purpose, castrated himself on the spot. then he ran through the city, holding the bloody pieces in his hand, till he threw them into one of the houses which he passed in his mad career. the household thus honoured had to furnish him with a suit of female attire and female ornaments, which he wore for the rest of his life. when the tumult of emotion had subsided, and the man had come to himself again, the irrevocable sacrifice must often have been followed by passionate sorrow and lifelong regret. this revulsion of natural human feeling after the frenzies of a fanatical religion is powerfully depicted by catullus in a celebrated poem. the parallel of these syrian devotees confirms the view that in the similar worship of cybele the sacrifice of virility took place on the day of blood at the vernal rites of the goddess, when the violets, supposed to spring from the red drops of her wounded lover, were in bloom among the pines. indeed the story that attis unmanned himself under a pine-tree was clearly devised to explain why his priests did the same beside the sacred violet-wreathed tree at his festival. at all events, we can hardly doubt that the day of blood witnessed the mourning for attis over an effigy of him which was afterwards buried. the image thus laid in the sepulchre was probably the same which had hung upon the tree. throughout the period of mourning the worshippers fasted from bread, nominally because cybele had done so in her grief for the death of attis, but really perhaps for the same reason which induced the women of harran to abstain from eating anything ground in a mill while they wept for tammuz. to partake of bread or flour at such a season might have been deemed a wanton profanation of the bruised and broken body of the god. or the fast may possibly have been a preparation for a sacramental meal. but when night had fallen, the sorrow of the worshippers was turned to joy. for suddenly a light shone in the darkness: the tomb was opened: the god had risen from the dead; and as the priest touched the lips of the weeping mourners with balm, he softly whispered in their ears the glad tidings of salvation. the resurrection of the god was hailed by his disciples as a promise that they too would issue triumphant from the corruption of the grave. on the morrow, the twenty-fifth day of march, which was reckoned the vernal equinox, the divine resurrection was celebrated with a wild outburst of glee. at rome, and probably elsewhere, the celebration took the form of a carnival. it was the festival of joy (_hilaria_). a universal licence prevailed. every man might say and do what he pleased. people went about the streets in disguise. no dignity was too high or too sacred for the humblest citizen to assume with impunity. in the reign of commodus a band of conspirators thought to take advantage of the masquerade by dressing in the uniform of the imperial guard, and so, mingling with the crowd of merrymakers, to get within stabbing distance of the emperor. but the plot miscarried. even the stern alexander severus used to relax so far on the joyous day as to admit a pheasant to his frugal board. the next day, the twenty-sixth of march, was given to repose, which must have been much needed after the varied excitements and fatigues of the preceding days. finally, the roman festival closed on the twenty-seventh of march with a procession to the brook almo. the silver image of the goddess, with its face of jagged black stone, sat in a waggon drawn by oxen. preceded by the nobles walking barefoot, it moved slowly, to the loud music of pipes and tambourines, out by the porta capena, and so down to the banks of the almo, which flows into the tiber just below the walls of rome. there the high-priest, robed in purple, washed the waggon, the image, and the other sacred objects in the water of the stream. on returning from their bath, the wain and the oxen were strewn with fresh spring flowers. all was mirth and gaiety. no one thought of the blood that had flowed so lately. even the eunuch priests forgot their wounds. such, then, appears to have been the annual solemnisation of the death and resurrection of attis in spring. but besides these public rites, his worship is known to have comprised certain secret or mystic ceremonies, which probably aimed at bringing the worshipper, and especially the novice, into closer communication with his god. our information as to the nature of these mysteries and the date of their celebration is unfortunately very scanty, but they seem to have included a sacramental meal and a baptism of blood. in the sacrament the novice became a partaker of the mysteries by eating out of a drum and drinking out of a cymbal, two instruments of music which figured prominently in the thrilling orchestra of attis. the fast which accompanied the mourning for the dead god may perhaps have been designed to prepare the body of the communicant for the reception of the blessed sacrament by purging it of all that could defile by contact the sacred elements. in the baptism the devotee, crowned with gold and wreathed with fillets, descended into a pit, the mouth of which was covered with a wooden grating. a bull, adorned with garlands of flowers, its forehead glittering with gold leaf, was then driven on to the grating and there stabbed to death with a consecrated spear. its hot reeking blood poured in torrents through the apertures, and was received with devout eagerness by the worshipper on every part of his person and garments, till he emerged from the pit, drenched, dripping, and scarlet from head to foot, to receive the homage, nay the adoration, of his fellows as one who had been born again to eternal life and had washed away his sins in the blood of the bull. for some time afterwards the fiction of a new birth was kept up by dieting him on milk like a new-born babe. the regeneration of the worshipper took place at the same time as the regeneration of his god, namely at the vernal equinox. at rome the new birth and the remission of sins by the shedding of bull's blood appear to have been carried out above all at the sanctuary of the phrygian goddess on the vatican hill, at or near the spot where the great basilica of st. peter's now stands; for many inscriptions relating to the rites were found when the church was being enlarged in or . from the vatican as a centre this barbarous system of superstition seems to have spread to other parts of the roman empire. inscriptions found in gaul and germany prove that provincial sanctuaries modelled their ritual on that of the vatican. from the same source we learn that the testicles as well as the blood of the bull played an important part in the ceremonies. probably they were regarded as a powerful charm to promote fertility and hasten the new birth. xxxv. attis as a god of vegetation the original character of attis as a tree-spirit is brought out plainly by the part which the pine-tree plays in his legend, his ritual, and his monuments. the story that he was a human being transformed into a pine-tree is only one of those transparent attempts at rationalising old beliefs which meet us so frequently in mythology. the bringing in of the pine-tree from the woods, decked with violets and woollen bands, is like bringing in the may-tree or summer-tree in modern folk-custom; and the effigy which was attached to the pine-tree was only a duplicate representative of the tree-spirit attis. after being fastened to the tree, the effigy was kept for a year and then burned. the same thing appears to have been sometimes done with the may-pole; and in like manner the effigy of the corn-spirit, made at harvest, is often preserved till it is replaced by a new effigy at next year's harvest. the original intention of such customs was no doubt to maintain the spirit of vegetation in life throughout the year. why the phrygians should have worshipped the pine above other trees we can only guess. perhaps the sight of its changeless, though sombre, green cresting the ridges of the high hills above the fading splendour of the autumn woods in the valleys may have seemed to their eyes to mark it out as the seat of a diviner life, of something exempt from the sad vicissitudes of the seasons, constant and eternal as the sky which stooped to meet it. for the same reason, perhaps, ivy was sacred to attis; at all events, we read that his eunuch priests were tattooed with a pattern of ivy leaves. another reason for the sanctity of the pine may have been its usefulness. the cones of the stone-pine contain edible nut-like seeds, which have been used as food since antiquity, and are still eaten, for example, by the poorer classes in rome. moreover, a wine was brewed from these seeds, and this may partly account for the orgiastic nature of the rites of cybele, which the ancients compared to those of dionysus. further, pine-cones were regarded as symbols or rather instruments of fertility. hence at the festival of the thesmophoria they were thrown, along with pigs and other agents or emblems of fecundity, into the sacred vaults of demeter for the purpose of quickening the ground and the wombs of women. like tree-spirits in general, attis was apparently thought to wield power over the fruits of the earth or even to be identical with the corn. one of his epithets was "very fruitful": he was addressed as the "reaped green (or yellow) ear of corn"; and the story of his sufferings, death, and resurrection was interpreted as the ripe grain wounded by the reaper, buried in the granary, and coming to life again when it is sown in the ground. a statue of him in the lateran museum at rome clearly indicates his relation to the fruits of the earth, and particularly to the corn; for it represents him with a bunch of ears of corn and fruit in his hand, and a wreath of pine-cones, pomegranates, and other fruits on his head, while from the top of his phrygian cap ears of corn are sprouting. on a stone urn, which contained the ashes of an archigallus or high-priest of attis, the same idea is expressed in a slightly different way. the top of the urn is adorned with ears of corn carved in relief, and it is surmounted by the figure of a cock, whose tail consists of ears of corn. cybele in like manner was conceived as a goddess of fertility who could make or mar the fruits of the earth; for the people of augustodunum (autun) in gaul used to cart her image about in a waggon for the good of the fields and vineyards, while they danced and sang before it, and we have seen that in italy an unusually fine harvest was attributed to the recent arrival of the great mother. the bathing of the image of the goddess in a river may well have been a rain-charm to ensure an abundant supply of moisture for the crops. xxxvi. human representatives of attis from inscriptions it appears that both at pessinus and rome the high-priest of cybele regularly bore the name of attis. it is therefore a reasonable conjecture that he played the part of his namesake, the legendary attis, at the annual festival. we have seen that on the day of blood he drew blood from his arms, and this may have been an imitation of the self-inflicted death of attis under the pine-tree. it is not inconsistent with this supposition that attis was also represented at these ceremonies by an effigy; for instances can be shown in which the divine being is first represented by a living person and afterwards by an effigy, which is then burned or otherwise destroyed. perhaps we may go a step farther and conjecture that this mimic killing of the priest, accompanied by a real effusion of his blood, was in phrygia, as it has been elsewhere, a substitute for a human sacrifice which in earlier times was actually offered. a reminiscence of the manner in which these old representatives of the deity were put to death is perhaps preserved in the famous story of marsyas. he was said to be a phrygian satyr or silenus, according to others a shepherd or herdsman, who played sweetly on the flute. a friend of cybele, he roamed the country with the disconsolate goddess to soothe her grief for the death of attis. the composition of the mother's air, a tune played on the flute in honour of the great mother goddess, was attributed to him by the people of celaenae in phrygia. vain of his skill, he challenged apollo to a musical contest, he to play on the flute and apollo on the lyre. being vanquished, marsyas was tied up to a pine-tree and flayed or cut limb from limb either by the victorious apollo or by a scythian slave. his skin was shown at celaenae in historical times. it hung at the foot of the citadel in a cave from which the river marsyas rushed with an impetuous and noisy tide to join the maeander. so the adonis bursts full-born from the precipices of the lebanon; so the blue river of ibreez leaps in a crystal jet from the red rocks of the taurus; so the stream, which now rumbles deep underground, used to gleam for a moment on its passage from darkness to darkness in the dim light of the corycian cave. in all these copious fountains, with their glad promise of fertility and life, men of old saw the hand of god and worshipped him beside the rushing river with the music of its tumbling waters in their ears. at celaenae, if we can trust tradition, the piper marsyas, hanging in his cave, had a soul for harmony even in death; for it is said that at the sound of his native phrygian melodies the skin of the dead satyr used to thrill, but that if the musician struck up an air in praise of apollo it remained deaf and motionless. in this phrygian satyr, shepherd, or herdsman who enjoyed the friendship of cybele, practised the music so characteristic of her rites, and died a violent death on her sacred tree, the pine, may we not detect a close resemblance to attis, the favourite shepherd or herdsman of the goddess, who is himself described as a piper, is said to have perished under a pine-tree, and was annually represented by an effigy hung, like marsyas, upon a pine? we may conjecture that in old days the priest who bore the name and played the part of attis at the spring festival of cybele was regularly hanged or otherwise slain upon the sacred tree, and that this barbarous custom was afterwards mitigated into the form in which it is known to us in later times, when the priest merely drew blood from his body under the tree and attached an effigy instead of himself to its trunk. in the holy grove at upsala men and animals were sacrificed by being hanged upon the sacred trees. the human victims dedicated to odin were regularly put to death by hanging or by a combination of hanging and stabbing, the man being strung up to a tree or a gallows and then wounded with a spear. hence odin was called the lord of the gallows or the god of the hanged, and he is represented sitting under a gallows tree. indeed he is said to have been sacrificed to himself in the ordinary way, as we learn from the weird verses of the _havamal,_ in which the god describes how he acquired his divine power by learning the magic runes: "i know that i hung on the windy tree for nine whole nights, wounded with the spear, dedicated to odin, myself to myself." the bagobos of mindanao, one of the philippine islands, used annually to sacrifice human victims for the good of the crops in a similar way. early in december, when the constellation orion appeared at seven o'clock in the evening, the people knew that the time had come to clear their fields for sowing and to sacrifice a slave. the sacrifice was presented to certain powerful spirits as payment for the good year which the people had enjoyed, and to ensure the favour of the spirits for the coming season. the victim was led to a great tree in the forest; there he was tied with his back to the tree and his arms stretched high above his head, in the attitude in which ancient artists portrayed marsyas hanging on the fatal tree. while he thus hung by the arms, he was slain by a spear thrust through his body at the level of the armpits. afterwards the body was cut clean through the middle at the waist, and the upper part was apparently allowed to dangle for a little from the tree, while the under part wallowed in blood on the ground. the two portions were finally cast into a shallow trench beside the tree. before this was done, anybody who wished might cut off a piece of flesh or a lock of hair from the corpse and carry it to the grave of some relation whose body was being consumed by a ghoul. attracted by the fresh corpse, the ghoul would leave the mouldering old body in peace. these sacrifices have been offered by men now living. in greece the great goddess artemis herself appears to have been annually hanged in effigy in her sacred grove of condylea among the arcadian hills, and there accordingly she went by the name of the hanged one. indeed a trace of a similar rite may perhaps be detected even at ephesus, the most famous of her sanctuaries, in the legend of a woman who hanged herself and was thereupon dressed by the compassionate goddess in her own divine garb and called by the name of hecate. similarly, at melite in phthia, a story was told of a girl named aspalis who hanged herself, but who appears to have been merely a form of artemis. for after her death her body could not be found, but an image of her was discovered standing beside the image of artemis, and the people bestowed on it the title of hecaerge or far-shooter, one of the regular epithets of the goddess. every year the virgins sacrificed a young goat to the image by hanging it, because aspalis was said to have hanged herself. the sacrifice may have been a substitute for hanging an image or a human representative of artemis. again, in rhodes the fair helen was worshipped under the title of helen of the tree, because the queen of the island had caused her handmaids, disguised as furies, to string her up to a bough. that the asiatic greeks sacrificed animals in this fashion is proved by coins of ilium, which represent an ox or cow hanging on a tree and stabbed with a knife by a man, who sits among the branches or on the animal's back. at hierapolis also the victims were hung on trees before they were burnt. with these greek and scandinavian parallels before us we can hardly dismiss as wholly improbable the conjecture that in phrygia a man-god may have hung year by year on the sacred but fatal tree. xxxvii. oriental religions in the west the worship of the great mother of the gods and her lover or son was very popular under the roman empire. inscriptions prove that the two received divine honours, separately or conjointly, not only in italy, and especially at rome, but also in the provinces, particularly in africa, spain, portugal, france, germany, and bulgaria. their worship survived the establishment of christianity by constantine; for symmachus records the recurrence of the festival of the great mother, and in the days of augustine her effeminate priests still paraded the streets and squares of carthage with whitened faces, scented hair, and mincing gait, while, like the mendicant friars of the middle ages, they begged alms from the passers-by. in greece, on the other hand, the bloody orgies of the asiatic goddess and her consort appear to have found little favour. the barbarous and cruel character of the worship, with its frantic excesses, was doubtless repugnant to the good taste and humanity of the greeks, who seem to have preferred the kindred but gentler rites of adonis. yet the same features which shocked and repelled the greeks may have positively attracted the less refined romans and barbarians of the west. the ecstatic frenzies, which were mistaken for divine inspiration, the mangling of the body, the theory of a new birth and the remission of sins through the shedding of blood, have all their origin in savagery, and they naturally appealed to peoples in whom the savage instincts were still strong. their true character was indeed often disguised under a decent veil of allegorical or philosophical interpretation, which probably sufficed to impose upon the rapt and enthusiastic worshippers, reconciling even the more cultivated of them to things which otherwise must have filled them with horror and disgust. the religion of the great mother, with its curious blending of crude savagery with spiritual aspirations, was only one of a multitude of similar oriental faiths which in the later days of paganism spread over the roman empire, and by saturating the european peoples with alien ideals of life gradually undermined the whole fabric of ancient civilisation. greek and roman society was built on the conception of the subordination of the individual to the community, of the citizen to the state; it set the safety of the commonwealth, as the supreme aim of conduct, above the safety of the individual whether in this world or in the world to come. trained from infancy in this unselfish ideal, the citizens devoted their lives to the public service and were ready to lay them down for the common good; or if they shrank from the supreme sacrifice, it never occurred to them that they acted otherwise than basely in preferring their personal existence to the interests of their country. all this was changed by the spread of oriental religions which inculcated the communion of the soul with god and its eternal salvation as the only objects worth living for, objects in comparison with which the prosperity and even the existence of the state sank into insignificance. the inevitable result of this selfish and immoral doctrine was to withdraw the devotee more and more from the public service, to concentrate his thoughts on his own spiritual emotions, and to breed in him a contempt for the present life which he regarded merely as a probation for a better and an eternal. the saint and the recluse, disdainful of earth and rapt in ecstatic contemplation of heaven, became in popular opinion the highest ideal of humanity, displacing the old ideal of the patriot and hero who, forgetful of self, lives and is ready to die for the good of his country. the earthly city seemed poor and contemptible to men whose eyes beheld the city of god coming in the clouds of heaven. thus the centre of gravity, so to say, was shifted from the present to a future life, and however much the other world may have gained, there can be little doubt that this one lost heavily by the change. a general disintegration of the body politic set in. the ties of the state and the family were loosened: the structure of society tended to resolve itself into its individual elements and thereby to relapse into barbarism; for civilisation is only possible through the active co-operation of the citizens and their willingness to subordinate their private interests to the common good. men refused to defend their country and even to continue their kind. in their anxiety to save their own souls and the souls of others, they were content to leave the material world, which they identified with the principle of evil, to perish around them. this obsession lasted for a thousand years. the revival of roman law, of the aristotelian philosophy, of ancient art and literature at the close of the middle ages, marked the return of europe to native ideals of life and conduct, to saner, manlier views of the world. the long halt in the march of civilisation was over. the tide of oriental invasion had turned at last. it is ebbing still. among the gods of eastern origin who in the decline of the ancient world competed against each other for the allegiance of the west was the old persian deity mithra. the immense popularity of his worship is attested by the monuments illustrative of it which have been found scattered in profusion all over the roman empire. in respect both of doctrines and of rites the cult of mithra appears to have presented many points of resemblance not only to the religion of the mother of the gods but also to christianity. the similarity struck the christian doctors themselves and was explained by them as a work of the devil, who sought to seduce the souls of men from the true faith by a false and insidious imitation of it. so to the spanish conquerors of mexico and peru many of the native heathen rites appeared to be diabolical counterfeits of the christian sacraments. with more probability the modern student of comparative religion traces such resemblances to the similar and independent workings of the mind of man in his sincere, if crude, attempts to fathom the secret of the universe, and to adjust his little life to its awful mysteries. however that may be, there can be no doubt that the mithraic religion proved a formidable rival to christianity, combining as it did a solemn ritual with aspirations after moral purity and a hope of immortality. indeed the issue of the conflict between the two faiths appears for a time to have hung in the balance. an instructive relic of the long struggle is preserved in our festival of christmas, which the church seems to have borrowed directly from its heathen rival. in the julian calendar the twenty-fifth of december was reckoned the winter solstice, and it was regarded as the nativity of the sun, because the day begins to lengthen and the power of the sun to increase from that turning-point of the year. the ritual of the nativity, as it appears to have been celebrated in syria and egypt, was remarkable. the celebrants retired into certain inner shrines, from which at midnight they issued with a loud cry, "the virgin has brought forth! the light is waxing!" the egyptians even represented the new-born sun by the image of an infant which on his birthday, the winter solstice, they brought forth and exhibited to his worshippers. no doubt the virgin who thus conceived and bore a son on the twenty-fifth of december was the great oriental goddess whom the semites called the heavenly virgin or simply the heavenly goddess; in semitic lands she was a form of astarte. now mithra was regularly identified by his worshippers with the sun, the unconquered sun, as they called him; hence his nativity also fell on the twenty-fifth of december. the gospels say nothing as to the day of christ's birth, and accordingly the early church did not celebrate it. in time, however, the christians of egypt came to regard the sixth of january as the date of the nativity, and the custom of commemorating the birth of the saviour on that day gradually spread until by the fourth century it was universally established in the east. but at the end of the third or the beginning of the fourth century the western church, which had never recognised the sixth of january as the day of the nativity, adopted the twenty-fifth of december as the true date, and in time its decision was accepted also by the eastern church. at antioch the change was not introduced till about the year a.d. what considerations led the ecclesiastical authorities to institute the festival of christmas? the motives for the innovation are stated with great frankness by a syrian writer, himself a christian. "the reason," he tells us, "why the fathers transferred the celebration of the sixth of january to the twenty-fifth of december was this. it was a custom of the heathen to celebrate on the same twenty-fifth of december the birthday of the sun, at which they kindled lights in token of festivity. in these solemnities and festivities the christians also took part. accordingly when the doctors of the church perceived that the christians had a leaning to this festival, they took counsel and resolved that the true nativity should be solemnised on that day and the festival of the epiphany on the sixth of january. accordingly, along with this custom, the practice has prevailed of kindling fires till the sixth." the heathen origin of christmas is plainly hinted at, if not tacitly admitted, by augustine when he exhorts his christian brethren not to celebrate that solemn day like the heathen on account of the sun, but on account of him who made the sun. in like manner leo the great rebuked the pestilent belief that christmas was solemnised because of the birth of the new sun, as it was called, and not because of the nativity of christ. thus it appears that the christian church chose to celebrate the birthday of its founder on the twenty-fifth of december in order to transfer the devotion of the heathen from the sun to him who was called the sun of righteousness. if that was so, there can be no intrinsic improbability in the conjecture that motives of the same sort may have led the ecclesiastical authorities to assimilate the easter festival of the death and resurrection of their lord to the festival of the death and resurrection of another asiatic god which fell at the same season. now the easter rites still observed in greece, sicily, and southern italy bear in some respects a striking resemblance to the rites of adonis, and i have suggested that the church may have consciously adapted the new festival to its heathen predecessor for the sake of winning souls to christ. but this adaptation probably took place in the greek-speaking rather than in the latin-speaking parts of the ancient world; for the worship of adonis, while it flourished among the greeks, appears to have made little impression on rome and the west. certainly it never formed part of the official roman religion. the place which it might have taken in the affections of the vulgar was already occupied by the similar but more barbarous worship of attis and the great mother. now the death and resurrection of attis were officially celebrated at rome on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth of march, the latter being regarded as the spring equinox, and therefore as the most appropriate day for the revival of a god of vegetation who had been dead or sleeping throughout the winter. but according to an ancient and widespread tradition christ suffered on the twenty-fifth of march, and accordingly some christians regularly celebrated the crucifixion on that day without any regard to the state of the moon. this custom was certainly observed in phrygia, cappadocia, and gaul, and there seem to be grounds for thinking that at one time it was followed also in rome. thus the tradition which placed the death of christ on the twenty-fifth of march was ancient and deeply rooted. it is all the more remarkable because astronomical considerations prove that it can have had no historical foundation. the inference appears to be inevitable that the passion of christ must have been arbitrarily referred to that date in order to harmonise with an older festival of the spring equinox. this is the view of the learned ecclesiastical historian mgr. duchesne, who points out that the death of the saviour was thus made to fall upon the very day on which, according to a widespread belief, the world had been created. but the resurrection of attis, who combined in himself the characters of the divine father and the divine son, was officially celebrated at rome on the same day. when we remember that the festival of st. george in april has replaced the ancient pagan festival of the parilia; that the festival of st. john the baptist in june has succeeded to a heathen midsummer festival of water: that the festival of the assumption of the virgin in august has ousted the festival of diana; that the feast of all souls in november is a continuation of an old heathen feast of the dead; and that the nativity of christ himself was assigned to the winter solstice in december because that day was deemed the nativity of the sun; we can hardly be thought rash or unreasonable in conjecturing that the other cardinal festival of the christian church--the solemnisation of easter--may have been in like manner, and from like motives of edification, adapted to a similar celebration of the phrygian god attis at the vernal equinox. at least it is a remarkable coincidence, if it is nothing more, that the christian and the heathen festivals of the divine death and resurrection should have been solemnised at the same season and in the same places. for the places which celebrated the death of christ at the spring equinox were phrygia, gaul, and apparently rome, that is, the very regions in which the worship of attis either originated or struck deepest root. it is difficult to regard the coincidence as purely accidental. if the vernal equinox, the season at which in the temperate regions the whole face of nature testifies to a fresh outburst of vital energy, had been viewed from of old as the time when the world was annually created afresh in the resurrection of a god, nothing could be more natural than to place the resurrection of the new deity at the same cardinal point of the year. only it is to be observed that if the death of christ was dated on the twenty-fifth of march, his resurrection, according to christian tradition, must have happened on the twenty-seventh of march, which is just two days later than the vernal equinox of the julian calendar and the resurrection of attis. a similar displacement of two days in the adjustment of christian to heathen celebrations occurs in the festivals of st. george and the assumption of the virgin. however, another christian tradition, followed by lactantius and perhaps by the practice of the church in gaul, placed the death of christ on the twenty-third and his resurrection on the twenty-fifth of march. if that was so, his resurrection coincided exactly with the resurrection of attis. in point of fact it appears from the testimony of an anonymous christian, who wrote in the fourth century of our era, that christians and pagans alike were struck by the remarkable coincidence between the death and resurrection of their respective deities, and that the coincidence formed a theme of bitter controversy between the adherents of the rival religions, the pagans contending that the resurrection of christ was a spurious imitation of the resurrection of attis, and the christians asserting with equal warmth that the resurrection of attis was a diabolical counterfeit of the resurrection of christ. in these unseemly bickerings the heathen took what to a superficial observer might seem strong ground by arguing that their god was the older and therefore presumably the original, not the counterfeit, since as a general rule an original is older than its copy. this feeble argument the christians easily rebutted. they admitted, indeed, that in point of time christ was the junior deity, but they triumphantly demonstrated his real seniority by falling back on the subtlety of satan, who on so important an occasion had surpassed himself by inverting the usual order of nature. taken altogether, the coincidences of the christian with the heathen festivals are too close and too numerous to be accidental. they mark the compromise which the church in the hour of its triumph was compelled to make with its vanquished yet still dangerous rivals. the inflexible protestantism of the primitive missionaries, with their fiery denunciations of heathendom, had been exchanged for the supple policy, the easy tolerance, the comprehensive charity of shrewd ecclesiastics, who clearly perceived that if christianity was to conquer the world it could do so only by relaxing the too rigid principles of its founder, by widening a little the narrow gate which leads to salvation. in this respect an instructive parallel might be drawn between the history of christianity and the history of buddhism. both systems were in their origin essentially ethical reforms born of the generous ardour, the lofty aspirations, the tender compassion of their noble founders, two of those beautiful spirits who appear at rare intervals on earth like beings come from a better world to support and guide our weak and erring nature. both preached moral virtue as the means of accomplishing what they regarded as the supreme object of life, the eternal salvation of the individual soul, though by a curious antithesis the one sought that salvation in a blissful eternity, the other in a final release from suffering, in annihilation. but the austere ideals of sanctity which they inculcated were too deeply opposed not only to the frailties but to the natural instincts of humanity ever to be carried out in practice by more than a small number of disciples, who consistently renounced the ties of the family and the state in order to work out their own salvation in the still seclusion of the cloister. if such faiths were to be nominally accepted by whole nations or even by the world, it was essential that they should first be modified or transformed so as to accord in some measure with the prejudices, the passions, the superstitions of the vulgar. this process of accommodation was carried out in after ages by followers who, made of less ethereal stuff than their masters, were for that reason the better fitted to mediate between them and the common herd. thus as time went on, the two religions, in exact proportion to their growing popularity, absorbed more and more of those baser elements which they had been instituted for the very purpose of suppressing. such spiritual decadences are inevitable. the world cannot live at the level of its great men. yet it would be unfair to the generality of our kind to ascribe wholly to their intellectual and moral weakness the gradual divergence of buddhism and christianity from their primitive patterns. for it should never be forgotten that by their glorification of poverty and celibacy both these religions struck straight at the root not merely of civil society but of human existence. the blow was parried by the wisdom or the folly of the vast majority of mankind, who refused to purchase a chance of saving their souls with the certainty of extinguishing the species. xxxviii. the myth of osiris in ancient egypt the god whose death and resurrection were annually celebrated with alternate sorrow and joy was osiris, the most popular of all egyptian deities; and there are good grounds for classing him in one of his aspects with adonis and attis as a personification of the great yearly vicissitudes of nature, especially of the corn. but the immense vogue which he enjoyed for many ages induced his devoted worshippers to heap upon him the attributes and powers of many other gods; so that it is not always easy to strip him, so to say, of his borrowed plumes and to restore them to their proper owners. the story of osiris is told in a connected form only by plutarch, whose narrative has been confirmed and to some extent amplified in modern times by the evidence of the monuments. osiris was the offspring of an intrigue between the earth-god seb (keb or geb, as the name is sometimes transliterated) and the sky-goddess nut. the greeks identified his parents with their own deities cronus and rhea. when the sun-god ra perceived that his wife nut had been unfaithful to him, he declared with a curse that she should be delivered of the child in no month and no year. but the goddess had another lover, the god thoth or hermes, as the greeks called him, and he playing at draughts with the moon won from her a seventy-second part of every day, and having compounded five whole days out of these parts he added them to the egyptian year of three hundred and sixty days. this was the mythical origin of the five supplementary days which the egyptians annually inserted at the end of every year in order to establish a harmony between lunar and solar time. on these five days, regarded as outside the year of twelve months, the curse of the sun-god did not rest, and accordingly osiris was born on the first of them. at his nativity a voice rang out proclaiming that the lord of all had come into the world. some say that a certain pamyles heard a voice from the temple at thebes bidding him announce with a shout that a great king, the beneficent osiris, was born. but osiris was not the only child of his mother. on the second of the supplementary days she gave birth to the elder horus, on the third to the god set, whom the greeks called typhon, on the fourth to the goddess isis, and on the fifth to the goddess nephthys. afterwards set married his sister nephthys, and osiris married his sister isis. reigning as a king on earth, osiris reclaimed the egyptians from savagery, gave them laws, and taught them to worship the gods. before his time the egyptians had been cannibals. but isis, the sister and wife of osiris, discovered wheat and barley growing wild, and osiris introduced the cultivation of these grains amongst his people, who forthwith abandoned cannibalism and took kindly to a corn diet. moreover, osiris is said to have been the first to gather fruit from trees, to train the vine to poles, and to tread the grapes. eager to communicate these beneficent discoveries to all mankind, he committed the whole government of egypt to his wife isis, and travelled over the world, diffusing the blessings of civilisation and agriculture wherever he went. in countries where a harsh climate or niggardly soil forbade the cultivation of the vine, he taught the inhabitants to console themselves for the want of wine by brewing beer from barley. loaded with the wealth that had been showered upon him by grateful nations, he returned to egypt, and on account of the benefits he had conferred on mankind he was unanimously hailed and worshipped as a deity. but his brother set (whom the greeks called typhon) with seventy-two others plotted against him. having taken the measure of his good brother's body by stealth, the bad brother typhon fashioned and highly decorated a coffer of the same size, and once when they were all drinking and making merry he brought in the coffer and jestingly promised to give it to the one whom it should fit exactly. well, they all tried one after the other, but it fitted none of them. last of all osiris stepped into it and lay down. on that the conspirators ran and slammed the lid down on him, nailed it fast, soldered it with molten lead, and flung the coffer into the nile. this happened on the seventeenth day of the month athyr, when the sun is in the sign of the scorpion, and in the eight-and-twentieth year of the reign or the life of osiris. when isis heard of it she sheared off a lock of her hair, put on a mourning attire, and wandered disconsolately up and down, seeking the body. by the advice of the god of wisdom she took refuge in the papyrus swamps of the delta. seven scorpions accompanied her in her flight. one evening when she was weary she came to the house of a woman, who, alarmed at the sight of the scorpions, shut the door in her face. then one of the scorpions crept under the door and stung the child of the woman that he died. but when isis heard the mother's lamentation, her heart was touched, and she laid her hands on the child and uttered her powerful spells; so the poison was driven out of the child and he lived. afterwards isis herself gave birth to a son in the swamps. she had conceived him while she fluttered in the form of a hawk over the corpse of her dead husband. the infant was the younger horus, who in his youth bore the name of harpocrates, that is, the child horus. him buto, the goddess of the north, hid from the wrath of his wicked uncle set. yet she could not guard him from all mishap; for one day when isis came to her little son's hiding-place she found him stretched lifeless and rigid on the ground: a scorpion had stung him. then isis prayed to the sun-god ra for help. the god hearkened to her and staid his bark in the sky, and sent down thoth to teach her the spell by which she might restore her son to life. she uttered the words of power, and straightway the poison flowed from the body of horus, air passed into him, and he lived. then thoth ascended up into the sky and took his place once more in the bark of the sun, and the bright pomp passed onward jubilant. meantime the coffer containing the body of osiris had floated down the river and away out to sea, till at last it drifted ashore at byblus, on the coast of syria. here a fine _erica_-tree shot up suddenly and enclosed the chest in its trunk. the king of the country, admiring the growth of the tree, had it cut down and made into a pillar of his house; but he did not know that the coffer with the dead osiris was in it. word of this came to isis and she journeyed to byblus, and sat down by the well, in humble guise, her face wet with tears. to none would she speak till the king's handmaidens came, and them she greeted kindly, and braided their hair, and breathed on them from her own divine body a wondrous perfume. but when the queen beheld the braids of her handmaidens' hair and smelt the sweet smell that emanated from them, she sent for the stranger woman and took her into her house and made her the nurse of her child. but isis gave the babe her finger instead of her breast to suck, and at night she began to burn all that was mortal of him away, while she herself in the likeness of a swallow fluttered round the pillar that contained her dead brother, twittering mournfully. but the queen spied what she was doing and shrieked out when she saw her child in flames, and thereby she hindered him from becoming immortal. then the goddess revealed herself and begged for the pillar of the roof, and they gave it her, and she cut the coffer out of it, and fell upon it and embraced it and lamented so loud that the younger of the king's children died of fright on the spot. but the trunk of the tree she wrapped in fine linen, and poured ointment on it, and gave it to the king and queen, and the wood stands in a temple of isis and is worshipped by the people of byblus to this day. and isis put the coffer in a boat and took the eldest of the king's children with her and sailed away. as soon as they were alone, she opened the chest, and laying her face on the face of her brother she kissed him and wept. but the child came behind her softly and saw what she was about, and she turned and looked at him in anger, and the child could not bear her look and died; but some say that it was not so, but that he fell into the sea and was drowned. it is he whom the egyptians sing of at their banquets under the name of maneros. but isis put the coffer by and went to see her son horus at the city of buto, and typhon found the coffer as he was hunting a boar one night by the light of a full moon. and he knew the body, and rent it into fourteen pieces, and scattered them abroad. but isis sailed up and down the marshes in a shallop made of papyrus, looking for the pieces; and that is why when people sail in shallops made of papyrus, the crocodiles do not hurt them, for they fear or respect the goddess. and that is the reason, too, why there are many graves of osiris in egypt, for she buried each limb as she found it. but others will have it that she buried an image of him in every city, pretending it was his body, in order that osiris might be worshipped in many places, and that if typhon searched for the real grave he might not be able to find it. however, the genital member of osiris had been eaten by the fishes, so isis made an image of it instead, and the image is used by the egyptians at their festivals to this day. "isis," writes the historian diodorus siculus, "recovered all the parts of the body except the genitals; and because she wished that her husband's grave should be unknown and honoured by all who dwell in the land of egypt, she resorted to the following device. she moulded human images out of wax and spices, corresponding to the stature of osiris, round each one of the parts of his body. then she called in the priests according to their families and took an oath of them all that they would reveal to no man the trust she was about to repose in them. so to each of them privately she said that to them alone she entrusted the burial of the body, and reminding them of the benefits they had received she exhorted them to bury the body in their own land and to honour osiris as a god. she also besought them to dedicate one of the animals of their country, whichever they chose, and to honour it in life as they had formerly honoured osiris, and when it died to grant it obsequies like his. and because she would encourage the priests in their own interest to bestow the aforesaid honours, she gave them a third part of the land to be used by them in the service and worship of the gods. accordingly it is said that the priests, mindful of the benefits of osiris, desirous of gratifying the queen, and moved by the prospect of gain, carried out all the injunctions of isis. wherefore to this day each of the priests imagines that osiris is buried in his country, and they honour the beasts that were consecrated in the beginning, and when the animals die the priests renew at their burial the mourning for osiris. but the sacred bulls, the one called apis and the other mnevis, were dedicated to osiris, and it was ordained that they should be worshipped as gods in common by all the egyptians, since these animals above all others had helped the discoverers of corn in sowing the seed and procuring the universal benefits of agriculture." such is the myth or legend of osiris, as told by greek writers and eked out by more or less fragmentary notices or allusions in native egyptian literature. a long inscription in the temple at denderah has preserved a list of the god's graves, and other texts mention the parts of his body which were treasured as holy relics in each of the sanctuaries. thus his heart was at athribis, his backbone at busiris, his neck at letopolis, and his head at memphis. as often happens in such cases, some of his divine limbs were miraculously multiplied. his head, for example, was at abydos as well as at memphis, and his legs, which were remarkably numerous, would have sufficed for several ordinary mortals. in this respect, however, osiris was nothing to st. denys, of whom no less than seven heads, all equally genuine, are extant. according to native egyptian accounts, which supplement that of plutarch, when isis had found the corpse of her husband osiris, she and her sister nephthys sat down beside it and uttered a lament which in after ages became the type of all egyptian lamentations for the dead. "come to thy house," they wailed. "come to thy house. o god on! come to thy house, thou who hast no foes. o fair youth, come to thy house, that thou mayest see me. i am thy sister, whom thou lovest; thou shalt not part from me. o fair boy, come to thy house. . . . i see thee not, yet doth my heart yearn after thee and mine eyes desire thee. come to her who loves thee, who loves thee, unnefer, thou blessed one! come to thy sister, come to thy wife, to thy wife, thou whose heart stands still. come to thy housewife. i am thy sister by the same mother, thou shalt not be far from me. gods and men have turned their faces towards thee and weep for thee together. . . . i call after thee and weep, so that my cry is heard to heaven, but thou hearest not my voice; yet am i thy sister, whom thou didst love on earth; thou didst love none but me, my brother! my brother!" this lament for the fair youth cut off in his prime reminds us of the laments for adonis. the title of unnefer or "the good being" bestowed on him marks the beneficence which tradition universally ascribed to osiris; it was at once his commonest title and one of his names as king. the lamentations of the two sad sisters were not in vain. in pity for her sorrow the sun-god ra sent down from heaven the jackal-headed god anubis, who, with the aid of isis and nephthys, of thoth and horus, pieced together the broken body of the murdered god, swathed it in linen bandages, and observed all the other rites which the egyptians were wont to perform over the bodies of the departed. then isis fanned the cold clay with her wings: osiris revived, and thenceforth reigned as king over the dead in the other world. there he bore the titles of lord of the underworld, lord of eternity, ruler of the dead. there, too, in the great hall of the two truths, assisted by forty-two assessors, one from each of the principal districts of egypt, he presided as judge at the trial of the souls of the departed, who made their solemn confession before him, and, their heart having been weighed in the balance of justice, received the reward of virtue in a life eternal or the appropriate punishment of their sins. in the resurrection of osiris the egyptians saw the pledge of a life everlasting for themselves beyond the grave. they believed that every man would live eternally in the other world if only his surviving friends did for his body what the gods had done for the body of osiris. hence the ceremonies observed by the egyptians over the human dead were an exact copy of those which anubis, horus, and the rest had performed over the dead god. "at every burial there was enacted a representation of the divine mystery which had been performed of old over osiris, when his son, his sisters, his friends were gathered round his mangled remains and succeeded by their spells and manipulations in converting his broken body into the first mummy, which they afterwards reanimated and furnished with the means of entering on a new individual life beyond the grave. the mummy of the deceased was osiris; the professional female mourners were his two sisters isis and nephthys; anubis, horus, all the gods of the osirian legend gathered about the corpse." in this way every dead egyptian was identified with osiris and bore his name. from the middle kingdom onwards it was the regular practice to address the deceased as "osiris so-and-so," as if he were the god himself, and to add the standing epithet "true of speech," because true speech was characteristic of osiris. the thousands of inscribed and pictured tombs that have been opened in the valley of the nile prove that the mystery of the resurrection was performed for the benefit of every dead egyptian; as osiris died and rose again from the dead, so all men hoped to arise like him from death to life eternal. thus according to what seems to have been the general native tradition osiris was a good and beloved king of egypt, who suffered a violent death but rose from the dead and was henceforth worshipped as a deity. in harmony with this tradition he was regularly represented by sculptors and painters in human and regal form as a dead king, swathed in the wrappings of a mummy, but wearing on his head a kingly crown and grasping in one of his hands, which were left free from the bandages, a kingly sceptre. two cities above all others were associated with his myth or memory. one of them was busiris in lower egypt, which claimed to possess his backbone; the other was abydos in upper egypt, which gloried in the possession of his head. encircled by the nimbus of the dead yet living god, abydos, originally an obscure place, became from the end of the old kingdom the holiest spot in egypt; his tomb there would seem to have been to the egyptians what the church of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem is to christians. it was the wish of every pious man that his dead body should rest in hallowed earth near the grave of the glorified osiris. few indeed were rich enough to enjoy this inestimable privilege; for, apart from the cost of a tomb in the sacred city, the mere transport of mummies from great distances was both difficult and expensive. yet so eager were many to absorb in death the blessed influence which radiated from the holy sepulchre that they caused their surviving friends to convey their mortal remains to abydos, there to tarry for a short time, and then to be brought back by river and interred in the tombs which had been made ready for them in their native land. others had cenotaphs built or memorial tablets erected for themselves near the tomb of their dead and risen lord, that they might share with him the bliss of a joyful resurrection. xxxix. the ritual of osiris . the popular rites a useful clue to the original nature of a god or goddess is often furnished by the season at which his or her festival is celebrated. thus, if the festival falls at the new or the full moon, there is a certain presumption that the deity thus honoured either is the moon or at least has lunar affinities. if the festival is held at the winter or summer solstice, we naturally surmise that the god is the sun, or at all events that he stands in some close relation to that luminary. again, if the festival coincides with the time of sowing or harvest, we are inclined to infer that the divinity is an embodiment of the earth or of the corn. these presumptions or inferences, taken by themselves, are by no means conclusive; but if they happen to be confirmed by other indications, the evidence may be regarded as fairly strong. unfortunately, in dealing with the egyptian gods we are in a great measure precluded from making use of this clue. the reason is not that the dates of the festivals are always unknown, but that they shifted from year to year, until after a long interval they had revolved through the whole course of the seasons. this gradual revolution of the festal egyptian cycle resulted from the employment of a calendar year which neither corresponded exactly to the solar year nor was periodically corrected by intercalation. if the egyptian farmer of the olden time could get no help, except at the rarest intervals, from the official or sacerdotal calendar, he must have been compelled to observe for himself those natural signals which marked the times for the various operations of husbandry. in all ages of which we possess any records the egyptians have been an agricultural people, dependent for their subsistence on the growth of the corn. the cereals which they cultivated were wheat, barley, and apparently sorghum (_holcus sorghum,_ linnaeus), the _doora_ of the modern fellaheen. then as now the whole country, with the exception of a fringe on the coast of the mediterranean, was almost rainless, and owed its immense fertility entirely to the annual inundation of the nile, which, regulated by an elaborate system of dams and canals, was distributed over the fields, renewing the soil year by year with a fresh deposit of mud washed down from the great equatorial lakes and the mountains of abyssinia. hence the rise of the river has always been watched by the inhabitants with the utmost anxiety; for if it either falls short of or exceeds a certain height, dearth and famine are the inevitable consequences. the water begins to rise early in june, but it is not until the latter half of july that it swells to a mighty tide. by the end of september the inundation is at its greatest height. the country is now submerged, and presents the appearance of a sea of turbid water, from which the towns and villages, built on higher ground, rise like islands. for about a month the flood remains nearly stationary, then sinks more and more rapidly, till by december or january the river has returned to its ordinary bed. with the approach of summer the level of the water continues to fall. in the early days of june the nile is reduced to half its ordinary breadth; and egypt, scorched by the sun, blasted by the wind that has blown from the sahara for many days, seems a mere continuation of the desert. the trees are choked with a thick layer of grey dust. a few meagre patches of vegetables, watered with difficulty, struggle painfully for existence in the immediate neighbourhood of the villages. some appearance of verdure lingers beside the canals and in the hollows from which the moisture has not wholly evaporated. the plain appears to pant in the pitiless sunshine, bare, dusty, ash-coloured, cracked and seamed as far as the eye can see with a network of fissures. from the middle of april till the middle of june the land of egypt is but half alive, waiting for the new nile. for countless ages this cycle of natural events has determined the annual labours of the egyptian husbandman. the first work of the agricultural year is the cutting of the dams which have hitherto prevented the swollen river from flooding the canals and the fields. this is done, and the pent-up waters released on their beneficent mission, in the first half of august. in november, when the inundation has subsided, wheat, barley, and sorghum are sown. the time of harvest varies with the district, falling about a month later in the north than in the south. in upper or southern egypt barley is reaped at the beginning of march, wheat at the beginning of april, and sorghum about the end of that month. it is natural to suppose that the various events of the agricultural year were celebrated by the egyptian farmer with some simple religious rites designed to secure the blessing of the gods upon his labours. these rustic ceremonies he would continue to perform year after year at the same season, while the solemn festivals of the priests continued to shift, with the shifting calendar, from summer through spring to winter, and so backward through autumn to summer. the rites of the husbandman were stable because they rested on direct observation of nature: the rites of the priest were unstable because they were based on a false calculation. yet many of the priestly festivals may have been nothing but the old rural festivals disguised in the course of ages by the pomp of sacerdotalism and severed, by the error of the calendar, from their roots in the natural cycle of the seasons. these conjectures are confirmed by the little we know both of the popular and of the official egyptian religion. thus we are told that the egyptians held a festival of isis at the time when the nile began to rise. they believed that the goddess was then mourning for the lost osiris, and that the tears which dropped from her eyes swelled the impetuous tide of the river. now if osiris was in one of his aspects a god of the corn, nothing could be more natural than that he should be mourned at midsummer. for by that time the harvest was past, the fields were bare, the river ran low, life seemed to be suspended, the corn-god was dead. at such a moment people who saw the handiwork of divine beings in all the operations of nature might well trace the swelling of the sacred stream to the tears shed by the goddess at the death of the beneficent corn-god her husband. and the sign of the rising waters on earth was accompanied by a sign in heaven. for in the early days of egyptian history, some three or four thousand years before the beginning of our era, the splendid star of sirius, the brightest of all the fixed stars, appeared at dawn in the east just before sunrise about the time of the summer solstice, when the nile begins to rise. the egyptians called it sothis, and regarded it as the star of isis, just as the babylonians deemed the planet venus the star of astarte. to both peoples apparently the brilliant luminary in the morning sky seemed the goddess of life and love come to mourn her departed lover or spouse and to wake him from the dead. hence the rising of sirius marked the beginning of the sacred egyptian year, and was regularly celebrated by a festival which did not shift with the shifting official year. the cutting of the dams and the admission of the water into the canals and fields is a great event in the egyptian year. at cairo the operation generally takes place between the sixth and the sixteenth of august, and till lately was attended by ceremonies which deserve to be noticed, because they were probably handed down from antiquity. an ancient canal, known by the name of the khalíj, formerly passed through the native town of cairo. near its entrance the canal was crossed by a dam of earth, very broad at the bottom and diminishing in breadth upwards, which used to be constructed before or soon after the nile began to rise. in front of the dam, on the side of the river, was reared a truncated cone of earth called the '_arooseh_ or "bride," on the top of which a little maize or millet was generally sown. this "bride" was commonly washed down by the rising tide a week or a fortnight before the cutting of the dam. tradition runs that the old custom was to deck a young virgin in gay apparel and throw her into the river as a sacrifice to obtain a plentiful inundation. whether that was so or not, the intention of the practice appears to have been to marry the river, conceived as a male power, to his bride the cornland, which was so soon to be fertilised by his water. the ceremony was therefore a charm to ensure the growth of the crops. in modern times money used to be thrown into the canal on this occasion, and the populace dived into the water after it. this practice also would seem to have been ancient, for seneca tells us that at a place called the veins of the nile, not far from philae, the priests used to cast money and offerings of gold into the river at a festival which apparently took place at the rising of the water. the next great operation of the agricultural year in egypt is the sowing of the seed in november, when the water of the inundation has retreated from the fields. with the egyptians, as with many peoples of antiquity, the committing of the seed to the earth assumed the character of a solemn and mournful rite. on this subject i will let plutarch speak for himself. "what," he asks, "are we to make of the gloomy, joyless, and mournful sacrifices, if it is wrong either to omit the established rites or to confuse and disturb our conceptions of the gods by absurd suspicions? for the greeks also perform many rites which resemble those of the egyptians and are observed about the same time. thus at the festival of the thesmophoria in athens women sit on the ground and fast. and the boeotians open the vaults of the sorrowful one, naming that festival sorrowful because demeter is sorrowing for the descent of the maiden. the month is the month of sowing about the setting of the pleiades. the egyptians call it athyr, the athenians pyanepsion, the boeotians the month of demeter. . . . for it was that time of year when they saw some of the fruits vanishing and failing from the trees, while they sowed others grudgingly and with difficulty, scraping the earth with their hands and huddling it up again, on the uncertain chance that what they deposited in the ground would ever ripen and come to maturity. thus they did in many respects like those who bury and mourn their dead." the egyptian harvest, as we have seen, falls not in autumn but in spring, in the months of march, april, and may. to the husbandman the time of harvest, at least in a good year, must necessarily be a season of joy: in bringing home his sheaves he is requited for his long and anxious labours. yet if the old egyptian farmer felt a secret joy at reaping and garnering the grain, it was essential that he should conceal the natural emotion under an air of profound dejection. for was he not severing the body of the corn-god with his sickle and trampling it to pieces under the hoofs of his cattle on the threshing-floor? accordingly we are told that it was an ancient custom of the egyptian corn-reapers to beat their breasts and lament over the first sheaf cut, while at the same time they called upon isis. the invocation seems to have taken the form of a melancholy chant, to which the greeks gave the name of maneros. similar plaintive strains were chanted by corn-reapers in phoenicia and other parts of western asia. probably all these doleful ditties were lamentations for the corn-god killed by the sickles of the reapers. in egypt the slain deity was osiris, and the name _maneros,_ applied to the dirge, appears to be derived from certain words meaning "come to thy house," which often occur in the lamentations for the dead god. ceremonies of the same sort have been observed by other peoples, probably for the same purpose. thus we are told that among all vegetables corn, by which is apparently meant maize, holds the first place in the household economy and the ceremonial observance of the cherokee indians, who invoke it under the name of "the old woman" in allusion to a myth that it sprang from the blood of an old woman killed by her disobedient sons. after the last working of the crop a priest and his assistant went into the field and sang songs of invocation to the spirit of the corn. after that a loud rustling would be heard, which was thought to be caused by the old woman bringing the corn into the field. a clean trail was always kept from the field to the house, "so that the corn might be encouraged to stay at home and not go wandering elsewhere." "another curious ceremony, of which even the memory is now almost forgotten, was enacted after the first working of the corn, when the owner or priest stood in succession at each of the four corners of the field and wept and wailed loudly. even the priests are now unable to give a reason for this performance, which may have been a lament for the bloody death of selu," the old woman of the corn. in these cherokee practices the lamentations and the invocations of the old woman of the corn resemble the ancient egyptian customs of lamenting over the first corn cut and calling upon isis, herself probably in one of her aspects an old woman of the corn. further, the cherokee precaution of leaving a clear path from the field to the house resembles the egyptian invitation to osiris, "come to thy house." so in the east indies to this day people observe elaborate ceremonies for the purpose of bringing back the soul of the rice from the fields to the barn. the nandi of east africa perform a ceremony in september when the eleusine grain is ripening. every woman who owns a plantation goes out with her daughters into the cornfields and makes a bonfire of the branches and leaves of certain trees. after that they pluck some of the eleusine, and each of them puts one grain in her necklace, chews another and rubs it on her forehead, throat, and breast. "no joy is shown by the womenfolk on this occasion, and they sorrowfully cut a basketful of the corn which they take home with them and place in the loft to dry." the conception of the corn-spirit as old and dead at harvest is very clearly embodied in a custom observed by the arabs of moab. when the harvesters have nearly finished their task and only a small corner of the field remains to be reaped, the owner takes a handful of wheat tied up in a sheaf. a hole is dug in the form of a grave, and two stones are set upright, one at the head and the other at the foot, just as in an ordinary burial. then the sheaf of wheat is laid at the bottom of the grave, and the sheikh pronounces these words, "the old man is dead." earth is afterwards thrown in to cover the sheaf, with a prayer, "may allah bring us back the wheat of the dead." . the official rites such, then, were the principal events of the farmer's calendar in ancient egypt, and such the simple religious rites by which he celebrated them. but we have still to consider the osirian festivals of the official calendar, so far as these are described by greek writers or recorded on the monuments. in examining them it is necessary to bear in mind that on account of the movable year of the old egyptian calendar the true or astronomical dates of the official festivals must have varied from year to year, at least until the adoption of the fixed alexandrian year in b.c. from that time onward, apparently, the dates of the festivals were determined by the new calendar, and so ceased to rotate throughout the length of the solar year. at all events plutarch, writing about the end of the first century, implies that they were then fixed, not movable; for though he does not mention the alexandrian calendar, he clearly dates the festivals by it. moreover, the long festal calendar of esne, an important document of the imperial age, is obviously based on the fixed alexandrian year; for it assigns the mark for new year's day to the day which corresponds to the twenty-ninth of august, which was the first day of the alexandrian year, and its references to the rising of the nile, the position of the sun, and the operations of agriculture are all in harmony with this supposition. thus we may take it as fairly certain that from b.c. onwards the egyptian festivals were stationary in the solar year. herodotus tells us that the grave of osiris was at sais in lower egypt, and that there was a lake there upon which the sufferings of the god were displayed as a mystery by night. this commemoration of the divine passion was held once a year: the people mourned and beat their breasts at it to testify their sorrow for the death of the god; and an image of a cow, made of gilt wood with a golden sun between its horns, was carried out of the chamber in which it stood the rest of the year. the cow no doubt represented isis herself, for cows were sacred to her, and she was regularly depicted with the horns of a cow on her head, or even as a woman with the head of a cow. it is probable that the carrying out of her cow-shaped image symbolised the goddess searching for the dead body of osiris; for this was the native egyptian interpretation of a similar ceremony observed in plutarch's time about the winter solstice, when the gilt cow was carried seven times round the temple. a great feature of the festival was the nocturnal illumination. people fastened rows of oil-lamps to the outside of their houses, and the lamps burned all night long. the custom was not confined to sais, but was observed throughout the whole of egypt. this universal illumination of the houses on one night of the year suggests that the festival may have been a commemoration not merely of the dead osiris but of the dead in general, in other words, that it may have been a night of all souls. for it is a widespread belief that the souls of the dead revisit their old homes on one night of the year; and on that solemn occasion people prepare for the reception of the ghosts by laying out food for them to eat, and lighting lamps to guide them on their dark road from and to the grave. herodotus, who briefly describes the festival, omits to mention its date, but we can determine it with some probability from other sources. thus plutarch tells us that osiris was murdered on the seventeenth of the month athyr, and that the egyptians accordingly observed mournful rites for four days from the seventeenth of athyr. now in the alexandrian calendar, which plutarch used, these four days corresponded to the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth of november, and this date answers exactly to the other indications given by plutarch, who says that at the time of the festival the nile was sinking, the north winds dying away, the nights lengthening, and the leaves falling from the trees. during these four days a gilt cow swathed in a black pall was exhibited as an image of isis. this, no doubt, was the image mentioned by herodotus in his account of the festival. on the nineteenth day of the month the people went down to the sea, the priests carrying a shrine which contained a golden casket. into this casket they poured fresh water, and thereupon the spectators raised a shout that osiris was found. after that they took some vegetable mould, moistened it with water, mixed it with precious spices and incense, and moulded the paste into a small moon-shaped image, which was then robed and ornamented. thus it appears that the purpose of the ceremonies described by plutarch was to represent dramatically, first, the search for the dead body of osiris, and, second, its joyful discovery, followed by the resurrection of the dead god who came to life again in the new image of vegetable mould and spices. lactantius tells us how on these occasions the priests, with their shaven bodies, beat their breasts and lamented, imitating the sorrowful search of isis for her lost son osiris, and how afterwards their sorrow was turned to joy when the jackal-headed god anubis, or rather a mummer in his stead, produced a small boy, the living representative of the god who was lost and was found. thus lactantius regarded osiris as the son instead of the husband of isis, and he makes no mention of the image of vegetable mould. it is probable that the boy who figured in the sacred drama played the part, not of osiris, but of his son horus; but as the death and resurrection of the god were celebrated in many cities of egypt, it is also possible that in some places the part of the god come to life was played by a living actor instead of by an image. another christian writer describes how the egyptians, with shorn heads, annually lamented over a buried idol of osiris, smiting their breasts, slashing their shoulders, ripping open their old wounds, until, after several days of mourning, they professed to find the mangled remains of the god, at which they rejoiced. however the details of the ceremony may have varied in different places, the pretence of finding the god's body, and probably of restoring it to life, was a great event in the festal year of the egyptians. the shouts of joy which greeted it are described or alluded to by many ancient writers. the funeral rites of osiris, as they were observed at his great festival in the sixteen provinces of egypt, are described in a long inscription of the ptolemaic period, which is engraved on the walls of the god's temple at denderah, the tentyra of the greeks, a town of upper egypt situated on the western bank of the nile about forty miles north of thebes. unfortunately, while the information thus furnished is remarkably full and minute on many points, the arrangement adopted in the inscription is so confused and the expression often so obscure that a clear and consistent account of the ceremonies as a whole can hardly be extracted from it. moreover, we learn from the document that the ceremonies varied somewhat in the several cities, the ritual of abydos, for example, differing from that of busiris. without attempting to trace all the particularities of local usage i shall briefly indicate what seem to have been the leading features of the festival, so far as these can be ascertained with tolerable certainty. the rites lasted eighteen days, from the twelfth to the thirtieth of the month khoiak, and set forth the nature of osiris in his triple aspect as dead, dismembered, and finally reconstituted by the union of his scattered limbs. in the first of these aspects he was called chent-ament (khenti-amenti), in the second osiris-sep, and in the third sokari (seker). small images of the god were moulded of sand or vegetable earth and corn, to which incense was sometimes added; his face was painted yellow and his cheek-bones green. these images were cast in a mould of pure gold, which represented the god in the form of a mummy, with the white crown of egypt on his head. the festival opened on the twelfth day of khoiak with a ceremony of ploughing and sowing. two black cows were yoked to the plough, which was made of tamarisk wood, while the share was of black copper. a boy scattered the seed. one end of the field was sown with barley, the other with spelt, and the middle with flax. during the operation the chief celebrant recited the ritual chapter of "the sowing of the fields." at busiris on the twentieth of khoiak sand and barley were put in the god's "garden," which appears to have been a sort of large flower-pot. this was done in the presence of the cow-goddess shenty, represented seemingly by the image of a cow made of gilt sycamore wood with a headless human image in its inside. "then fresh inundation water was poured out of a golden vase over both the goddess and the 'garden,' and the barley was allowed to grow as the emblem of the resurrection of the god after his burial in the earth, 'for the growth of the garden is the growth of the divine substance.'" on the twenty-second of khoiak, at the eighth hour, the images of osiris, attended by thirty-four images of deities, performed a mysterious voyage in thirty-four tiny boats made of papyrus, which were illuminated by three hundred and sixty-five lights. on the twenty-fourth of khoiak, after sunset, the effigy of osiris in a coffin of mulberry wood was laid in the grave, and at the ninth hour of the night the effigy which had been made and deposited the year before was removed and placed upon boughs of sycamore. lastly, on the thirtieth day of khoiak they repaired to the holy sepulchre, a subterranean chamber over which appears to have grown a clump of persea-trees. entering the vault by the western door, they laid the coffined effigy of the dead god reverently on a bed of sand in the chamber. so they left him to his rest, and departed from the sepulchre by the eastern door. thus ended the ceremonies in the month of khoiak. in the foregoing account of the festival, drawn from the great inscription of denderah, the burial of osiris figures prominently, while his resurrection is implied rather than expressed. this defect of the document, however, is amply compensated by a remarkable series of bas-reliefs which accompany and illustrate the inscription. these exhibit in a series of scenes the dead god lying swathed as a mummy on his bier, then gradually raising himself up higher and higher, until at last he has entirely quitted the bier and is seen erect between the guardian wings of the faithful isis, who stands behind him, while a male figure holds up before his eyes the _crux ansata,_ the egyptian symbol of life. the resurrection of the god could hardly be portrayed more graphically. even more instructive, however, is another representation of the same event in a chamber dedicated to osiris in the great temple of isis at philae. here we see the dead body of osiris with stalks of corn springing from it, while a priest waters the stalks from a pitcher which he holds in his hand. the accompanying inscription sets forth that "this is the form of him whom one may not name, osiris of the mysteries, who springs from the returning waters." taken together, the picture and the words seem to leave no doubt that osiris was here conceived and represented as a personification of the corn which springs from the fields after they have been fertilised by the inundation. this, according to the inscription, was the kernel of the mysteries, the innermost secret revealed to the initiated. so in the rites of demeter at eleusis a reaped ear of corn was exhibited to the worshippers as the central mystery of their religion. we can now fully understand why at the great festival of sowing in the month of khoiak the priests used to bury effigies of osiris made of earth and corn. when these effigies were taken up again at the end of a year or of a shorter interval, the corn would be found to have sprouted from the body of osiris, and this sprouting of the grain would be hailed as an omen, or rather as the cause, of the growth of the crops. the corn-god produced the corn from himself: he gave his own body to feed the people: he died that they might live. and from the death and resurrection of their great god the egyptians drew not only their support and sustenance in this life, but also their hope of a life eternal beyond the grave. this hope is indicated in the clearest manner by the very remarkable effigies of osiris which have come to light in egyptian cemeteries. thus in the valley of the kings at thebes there was found the tomb of a royal fan-bearer who lived about b.c. among the rich contents of the tomb there was a bier on which rested a mattress of reeds covered with three layers of linen. on the upper side of the linen was painted a life-size figure of osiris; and the interior of the figure, which was waterproof, contained a mixture of vegetable mould, barley, and a sticky fluid. the barley had sprouted and sent out shoots two or three inches long. again, in the cemetery at cynopolis "were numerous burials of osiris figures. these were made of grain wrapped up in cloth and roughly shaped like an osiris, and placed inside a bricked-up recess at the side of the tomb, sometimes in small pottery coffins, sometimes in wooden coffins in the form of a hawkmummy, sometimes without any coffins at all." these corn-stuffed figures were bandaged like mummies with patches of gilding here and there, as if in imitation of the golden mould in which the similar figures of osiris were cast at the festival of sowing. again, effigies of osiris, with faces of green wax and their interior full of grain, were found buried near the necropolis of thebes. finally, we are told by professor erman that between the legs of mummies "there sometimes lies a figure of osiris made of slime; it is filled with grains of corn, the sprouting of which is intended to signify the resurrection of the god." we cannot doubt that, just as the burial of corn-stuffed images of osiris in the earth at the festival of sowing was designed to quicken the seed, so the burial of similar images in the grave was meant to quicken the dead, in other words, to ensure their spiritual immortality. xl. the nature of osiris . osiris a corn-god the foregoing survey of the myth and ritual of osiris may suffice to prove that in one of his aspects the god was a personification of the corn, which may be said to die and come to life again every year. through all the pomp and glamour with which in later times the priests had invested his worship, the conception of him as the corn-god comes clearly out in the festival of his death and resurrection, which was celebrated in the month of khoiak and at a later period in the month of athyr. that festival appears to have been essentially a festival of sowing, which properly fell at the time when the husbandman actually committed the seed to the earth. on that occasion an effigy of the corn-god, moulded of earth and corn, was buried with funeral rites in the ground in order that, dying there, he might come to life again with the new crops. the ceremony was, in fact, a charm to ensure the growth of the corn by sympathetic magic, and we may conjecture that as such it was practised in a simple form by every egyptian farmer on his fields long before it was adopted and transfigured by the priests in the stately ritual of the temple. in the modern, but doubtless ancient, arab custom of burying "the old man," namely, a sheaf of wheat, in the harvest-field and praying that he may return from the dead, we see the germ out of which the worship of the corn-god osiris was probably developed. the details of his myth fit in well with this interpretation of the god. he was said to be the offspring of sky and earth. what more appropriate parentage could be invented for the corn which springs from the ground that has been fertilised by the water of heaven? it is true that the land of egypt owed its fertility directly to the nile and not to showers; but the inhabitants must have known or guessed that the great river in its turn was fed by the rains which fell in the far interior. again, the legend that osiris was the first to teach men the use of corn would be most naturally told of the corn-god himself. further, the story that his mangled remains were scattered up and down the land and buried in different places may be a mythical way of expressing either the sowing or the winnowing of the grain. the latter interpretation is supported by the tale that isis placed the severed limbs of osiris on a corn-sieve. or more probably the legend may be a reminiscence of a custom of slaying a human victim, perhaps a representative of the corn-spirit, and distributing his flesh or scattering his ashes over the fields to fertilise them. in modern europe the figure of death is sometimes torn in pieces, and the fragments are then buried in the ground to make the crops grow well, and in other parts of the world human victims are treated in the same way. with regard to the ancient egyptians we have it on the authority of manetho that they used to burn red-haired men and scatter their ashes with winnowing fans, and it is highly significant that this barbarous sacrifice was offered by the kings at the grave of osiris. we may conjecture that the victims represented osiris himself, who was annually slain, dismembered, and buried in their persons that he might quicken the seed in the earth. possibly in prehistoric times the kings themselves played the part of the god and were slain and dismembered in that character. set as well as osiris is said to have been torn in pieces after a reign of eighteen days, which was commemorated by an annual festival of the same length. according to one story romulus, the first king of rome, was cut in pieces by the senators, who buried the fragments of him in the ground; and the traditional day of his death, the seventh of july, was celebrated with certain curious rites, which were apparently connected with the artificial fertilisation of the fig. again, greek legend told how pentheus, king of thebes, and lycurgus, king of the thracian edonians, opposed the vine-god dionysus, and how the impious monarchs were rent in pieces, the one by the frenzied bacchanals, the other by horses. the greek traditions may well be distorted reminiscences of a custom of sacrificing human beings, and especially divine kings, in the character of dionysus, a god who resembled osiris in many points and was said like him to have been torn limb from limb. we are told that in chios men were rent in pieces as a sacrifice to dionysus; and since they died the same death as their god, it is reasonable to suppose that they personated him. the story that the thracian orpheus was similarly torn limb from limb by the bacchanals seems to indicate that he too perished in the character of the god whose death he died. it is significant that the thracian lycurgus, king of the edonians, is said to have been put to death in order that the ground, which had ceased to be fruitful, might regain its fertility. further, we read of a norwegian king, halfdan the black, whose body was cut up and buried in different parts of his kingdom for the sake of ensuring the fruitfulness of the earth. he is said to have been drowned at the age of forty through the breaking of the ice in spring. what followed his death is thus related by the old norse historian snorri sturluson: "he had been the most prosperous (literally, blessed with abundance) of all kings. so greatly did men value him that when the news came that he was dead and his body removed to hringariki and intended for burial there, the chief men from raumariki and westfold and heithmörk came and all requested that they might take his body with them and bury it in their various provinces; they thought that it would bring abundance to those who obtained it. eventually it was settled that the body was distributed in four places. the head was laid in a barrow at steinn in hringariki, and each party took away their own share and buried it. all these barrows are called halfdan's barrows." it should be remembered that this halfdan belonged to the family of the ynglings, who traced their descent from frey, the great scandinavian god of fertility. the natives of kiwai, an island lying off the mouth of the fly river in british new guinea, tell of a certain magician named segera, who had sago for his totem. when segera was old and ill, he told the people that he would soon die, but that, nevertheless, he would cause their gardens to thrive. accordingly, he instructed them that when he was dead they should cut him up and place pieces of his flesh in their gardens, but his head was to be buried in his own garden. of him it is said that he outlived the ordinary age, and that no man knew his father, but that he made the sago good and no one was hungry any more. old men who were alive some years ago affirmed that they had known segera in their youth, and the general opinion of the kiwai people seems to be that segera died not more than two generations ago. taken all together, these legends point to a widespread practice of dismembering the body of a king or magician and burying the pieces in different parts of the country in order to ensure the fertility of the ground and probably also the fecundity of man and beast. to return to the human victims whose ashes the egyptians scattered with winnowing-fans, the red hair of these unfortunates was probably significant. for in egypt the oxen which were sacrificed had also to be red; a single black or white hair found on the beast would have disqualified it for the sacrifice. if, as i conjecture, these human sacrifices were intended to promote the growth of the crops--and the winnowing of their ashes seems to support this view--redhaired victims were perhaps selected as best fitted to personate the spirit of the ruddy grain. for when a god is represented by a living person, it is natural that the human representative should be chosen on the ground of his supposed resemblance to the divine original. hence the ancient mexicans, conceiving the maize as a personal being who went through the whole course of life between seed-time and harvest, sacrificed new-born babes when the maize was sown, older children when it had sprouted, and so on till it was fully ripe, when they sacrificed old men. a name for osiris was the "crop" or "harvest"; and the ancients sometimes explained him as a personification of the corn. . osiris a tree-spirit but osiris was more than a spirit of the corn; he was also a tree-spirit, and this may perhaps have been his primitive character, since the worship of trees is naturally older in the history of religion than the worship of the cereals. the character of osiris as a tree-spirit was represented very graphically in a ceremony described by firmicus maternus. a pine-tree having been cut down, the centre was hollowed out, and with the wood thus excavated an image of osiris was made, which was then buried like a corpse in the hollow of the tree. it is hard to imagine how the conception of a tree as tenanted by a personal being could be more plainly expressed. the image of osiris thus made was kept for a year and then burned, exactly as was done with the image of attis which was attached to the pine-tree. the ceremony of cutting the tree, as described by firmicus maternus, appears to be alluded to by plutarch. it was probably the ritual counterpart of the mythical discovery of the body of osiris enclosed in the _erica_-tree. in the hall of osiris at denderah the coffin containing the hawk-headed mummy of the god is clearly depicted as enclosed within a tree, apparently a conifer, the trunk and branches of which are seen above and below the coffin. the scene thus corresponds closely both to the myth and to the ceremony described by firmicus maternus. it accords with the character of osiris as a tree-spirit that his worshippers were forbidden to injure fruit-trees, and with his character as a god of vegetation in general that they were not allowed to stop up wells of water, which are so important for the irrigation of hot southern lands. according to one legend, he taught men to train the vine to poles, to prune its superfluous foliage, and to extract the juice of the grape. in the papyrus of nebseni, written about b.c., osiris is depicted sitting in a shrine, from the roof of which hang clusters of grapes; and in the papyrus of the royal scribe nekht we see the god enthroned in front of a pool, from the banks of which a luxuriant vine, with many bunches of grapes, grows towards the green face of the seated deity. the ivy was sacred to him, and was called his plant because it is always green. . osiris a god of fertility as a god of vegetation osiris was naturally conceived as a god of creative energy in general, since men at a certain stage of evolution fail to distinguish between the reproductive powers of animals and of plants. hence a striking feature in his worship was the coarse but expressive symbolism by which this aspect of his nature was presented to the eye not merely of the initiated but of the multitude. at his festival women used to go about the villages singing songs in his praise and carrying obscene images of him which they set in motion by means of strings. the custom was probably a charm to ensure the growth of the crops. a similar image of him, decked with all the fruits of the earth, is said to have stood in a temple before a figure of isis, and in the chambers dedicated to him at philae the dead god is portrayed lying on his bier in an attitude which indicates in the plainest way that even in death his generative virtue was not extinct but only suspended, ready to prove a source of life and fertility to the world when the opportunity should offer. hymns addressed to osiris contain allusions to this important side of his nature. in one of them it is said that the world waxes green in triumph through him; and another declares, "thou art the father and mother of mankind, they live on thy breath, they subsist on the flesh of thy body." we may conjecture that in this paternal aspect he was supposed, like other gods of fertility, to bless men and women with offspring, and that the processions at his festival were intended to promote this object as well as to quicken the seed in the ground. it would be to misjudge ancient religion to denounce as lewd and profligate the emblems and the ceremonies which the egyptians employed for the purpose of giving effect to this conception of the divine power. the ends which they proposed to themselves in these rites were natural and laudable; only the means they adopted to compass them were mistaken. a similar fallacy induced the greeks to adopt a like symbolism in their dionysiac festivals, and the superficial but striking resemblance thus produced between the two religions has perhaps more than anything else misled enquirers, both ancient and modern, into identifying worships which, though certainly akin in nature, are perfectly distinct and independent in origin. . osiris a god of the dead we have seen that in one of his aspects osiris was the ruler and judge of the dead. to a people like the egyptians, who not only believed in a life beyond the grave but actually spent much of their time, labour, and money in preparing for it, this office of the god must have appeared hardly, if at all, less important than his function of making the earth to bring forth its fruits in due season. we may assume that in the faith of his worshippers the two provinces of the god were intimately connected. in laying their dead in the grave they committed them to his keeping who could raise them from the dust to life eternal, even as he caused the seed to spring from the ground. of that faith the corn-stuffed effigies of osiris found in egyptian tombs furnish an eloquent and un-equivocal testimony. they were at once an emblem and an instrument of resurrection. thus from the sprouting of the grain the ancient egyptians drew an augury of human immortality. they are not the only people who have built the same lofty hopes on the same slender foundation. a god who thus fed his people with his own broken body in this life, and who held out to them a promise of a blissful eternity in a better world hereafter, naturally reigned supreme in their affections. we need not wonder, therefore, that in egypt the worship of the other gods was overshadowed by that of osiris, and that while they were revered each in his own district, he and his divine partner isis were adored in all. xli. isis the original meaning of the goddess isis is still more difficult to determine than that of her brother and husband osiris. her attributes and epithets were so numerous that in the hieroglyphics she is called "the many-named," "the thousand-named," and in greek inscriptions "the myriad-named." yet in her complex nature it is perhaps still possible to detect the original nucleus round which by a slow process of accretion the other elements gathered. for if her brother and husband osiris was in one of his aspects the corn-god, as we have seen reason to believe, she must surely have been the corn-goddess. there are at least some grounds for thinking so. for if we may trust diodorus siculus, whose authority appears to have been the egyptian historian manetho, the discovery of wheat and barley was attributed to isis, and at her festivals stalks of these grains were carried in procession to commemorate the boon she had conferred on men. a further detail is added by augustine. he says that isis made the discovery of barley at the moment when she was sacrificing to the common ancestors of her husband and herself, all of whom had been kings, and that she showed the newly discovered ears of barley to osiris and his councillor thoth or mercury, as roman writers called him. that is why, adds augustine, they identify isis with ceres. further, at harvest-time, when the egyptian reapers had cut the first stalks, they laid them down and beat their breasts, wailing and calling upon isis. the custom has been already explained as a lamen for the corn-spirit slain under the sickle. amongst the epithets by which isis is designated in the inscriptions are "creatress of green things," "green goddess, whose green colour is like unto the greenness of the earth," "lady of bread," "lady of beer," "lady of abundance." according to brugsch she is "not only the creatress of the fresh verdure of vegetation which covers the earth, but is actually the green corn-field itself, which is personified as a goddess." this is confirmed by her epithet _sochit_ or _sochet,_ meaning "a corn-field," a sense which the word still retains in coptic. the greeks conceived of isis as a corn-goddess, for they identified her with demeter. in a greek epigram she is described as "she who has given birth to the fruits of the earth," and "the mother of the ears of corn"; and in a hymn composed in her honour she speaks of herself as "queen of the wheat-field," and is described as "charged with the care of the fruitful furrow's wheat-rich path." accordingly, greek or roman artists often represented her with ears of corn on her head or in her hand. such, we may suppose, was isis in the olden time, a rustic corn-mother adored with uncouth rites by egyptian swains. but the homely features of the clownish goddess could hardly be traced in the refined, the saintly form which, spiritualised by ages of religious evolution, she presented to her worshippers of after days as the true wife, the tender mother, the beneficent queen of nature, encircled with the nimbus of moral purity, of immemorial and mysterious sanctity. thus chastened and transfigured she won many hearts far beyond the boundaries of her native land. in that welter of religions which accompanied the decline of national life in antiquity her worship was one of the most popular at rome and throughout the empire. some of the roman emperors themselves were openly addicted to it. and however the religion of isis may, like any other, have been often worn as a cloak by men and women of loose life, her rites appear on the whole to have been honourably distinguished by a dignity and composure, a solemnity and decorum, well fitted to soothe the troubled mind, to ease the burdened heart. they appealed therefore to gentle spirits, and above all to women, whom the bloody and licentious rites of other oriental goddesses only shocked and repelled. we need not wonder, then, that in a period of decadence, when traditional faiths were shaken, when systems clashed, when men's minds were disquieted, when the fabric of empire itself, once deemed eternal, began to show ominous rents and fissures, the serene figure of isis with her spiritual calm, her gracious promise of immortality, should have appeared to many like a star in a stormy sky, and should have roused in their breasts a rapture of devotion not unlike that which was paid in the middle ages to the virgin mary. indeed her stately ritual, with its shaven and tonsured priests, its matins and vespers, its tinkling music, its baptism and aspersions of holy water, its solemn processions, its jewelled images of the mother of god, presented many points of similarity to the pomps and ceremonies of catholicism. the resemblance need not be purely accidental. ancient egypt may have contributed its share to the gorgeous symbolism of the catholic church as well as to the pale abstractions of her theology. certainly in art the figure of isis suckling the infant horus is so like that of the madonna and child that it has sometimes received the adoration of ignorant christians. and to isis in her later character of patroness of mariners the virgin mary perhaps owes her beautiful epithet of _stella maris,_ "star of the sea," under which she is adored by tempest-tossed sailors. the attributes of a marine deity may have been bestowed on isis by the sea-faring greeks of alexandria. they are quite foreign to her original character and to the habits of the egyptians, who had no love of the sea. on this hypothesis sirius, the bright star of isis, which on july mornings rises from the glassy waves of the eastern mediterranean, a harbinger of halcyon weather to mariners, was the true _stella maris,_ "the star of the sea." xlii. osiris and the sun osiris has been sometimes interpreted as the sun-god, and in modern times this view has been held by so many distinguished writers that it deserves a brief examination. if we enquire on what evidence osiris has been identified with the sun or the sun-god, it will be found on analysis to be minute in quantity and dubious, where it is not absolutely worthless, in quality. the diligent jablonski, the first modern scholar to collect and sift the testimony of classical writers on egyptian religion, says that it can be shown in many ways that osiris is the sun, and that he could produce a cloud of witnesses to prove it, but that it is needless to do so, since no learned man is ignorant of the fact. of the ancient writers whom he condescends to quote, the only two who expressly identify osiris with the sun are diodorus and macrobius. but little weight can be attached to their evidence; for the statement of diodorus is vague and rhetorical, and the reasons which macrobius, one of the fathers of solar mythology, assigns for the identification are exceedingly slight. the ground upon which some modern writers seem chiefly to rely for the identification of osiris with the sun is that the story of his death fits better with the solar phenomena than with any other in nature. it may readily be admitted that the daily appearance and disappearance of the sun might very naturally be expressed by a myth of his death and resurrection; and writers who regard osiris as the sun are careful to indicate that it is the diurnal, and not the annual, course of the sun to which they understand the myth to apply. thus renouf, who identified osiris with the sun, admitted that the egyptian sun could not with any show of reason be described as dead in winter. but if his daily death was the theme of the legend, why was it celebrated by an annual ceremony? this fact alone seems fatal to the interpretation of the myth as descriptive of sunset and sunrise. again, though the sun may be said to die daily, in what sense can he be said to be torn in pieces? in the course of our enquiry it has, i trust, been made clear that there is another natural phenomenon to which the conception of death and resurrection is as applicable as to sunset and sunrise, and which, as a matter of fact, has been so conceived and represented in folk-custom. that phenomenon is the annual growth and decay of vegetation. a strong reason for interpreting the death of osiris as the decay of vegetation rather than as the sunset is to be found in the general, though not unanimous, voice of antiquity, which classed together the worship and myths of osiris, adonis, attis, dionysus, and demeter, as religions of essentially the same type. the consensus of ancient opinion on this subject seems too great to be rejected as a mere fancy. so closely did the rites of osiris resemble those of adonis at byblus that some of the people of byblus themselves maintained that it was osiris and not adonis whose death was mourned by them. such a view could certainly not have been held if the rituals of the two gods had not been so alike as to be almost indistinguishable. herodotus found the similarity between the rites of osiris and dionysus so great, that he thought it impossible the latter could have arisen independently; they must, he supposed, have been recently borrowed, with slight alterations, by the greeks from the egyptians. again, plutarch, a very keen student of comparative religion, insists upon the detailed resemblance of the rites of osiris to those of dionysus. we cannot reject the evidence of such intelligent and trustworthy witnesses on plain matters of fact which fell under their own cognizance. their explanations of the worships it is indeed possible to reject, for the meaning of religious cults is often open to question; but resemblances of ritual are matters of observation. therefore, those who explain osiris as the sun are driven to the alternative of either dismissing as mistaken the testimony of antiquity to the similarity of the rites of osiris, adonis, attis, dionysus, and demeter, or of interpreting all these rites as sun-worship. no modern scholar has fairly faced and accepted either side of this alternative. to accept the former would be to affirm that we know the rites of these deities better than the men who practised, or at least who witnessed them. to accept the latter would involve a wrenching, clipping, mangling, and distorting of myth and ritual from which even macrobius shrank. on the other hand, the view that the essence of all these rites was the mimic death and revival of vegetation, explains them separately and collectively in an easy and natural way, and harmonises with the general testimony borne by the ancients to their substantial similarity. xliii. dionysus in the preceding chapters we saw that in antiquity the civilised nations of western asia and egypt pictured to themselves the changes of the seasons, and particularly the annual growth and decay of vegetation, as episodes in the life of gods, whose mournful death and happy resurrection they celebrated with dramatic rites of alternate lamentation and rejoicing. but if the celebration was in form dramatic, it was in substance magical; that is to say, it was intended, on the principles of sympathetic magic, to ensure the vernal regeneration of plants and the multiplication of animals, which had seemed to be menaced by the inroads of winter. in the ancient world, however, such ideas and such rites were by no means confined to the oriental peoples of babylon and syria, of phrygia and egypt; they were not a product peculiar to the religious mysticism of the dreamy east, but were shared by the races of livelier fancy and more mercurial temperament who inhabited the shores and islands of the aegean. we need not, with some enquirers in ancient and modern times, suppose that these western peoples borrowed from the older civilisation of the orient the conception of the dying and reviving god, together with the solemn ritual, in which that conception was dramatically set forth before the eyes of the worshippers. more probably the resemblance which may be traced in this respect between the religions of the east and west is no more than what we commonly, though incorrectly, call a fortuitous coincidence, the effect of similar causes acting alike on the similar constitution of the human mind in different countries and under different skies. the greek had no need to journey into far countries to learn the vicissitudes of the seasons, to mark the fleeting beauty of the damask rose, the transient glory of the golden corn, the passing splendour of the purple grapes. year by year in his own beautiful land he beheld, with natural regret, the bright pomp of summer fading into the gloom and stagnation of winter, and year by year he hailed with natural delight the outburst of fresh life in spring. accustomed to personify the forces of nature, to tinge her cold abstractions with the warm hues of imagination, to clothe her naked realities with the gorgeous drapery of a mythic fancy, he fashioned for himself a train of gods and goddesses, of spirits and elves, out of the shifting panorama of the seasons, and followed the annual fluctuations of their fortunes with alternate emotions of cheerfulness and dejection, of gladness and sorrow, which found their natural expression in alternate rites of rejoicing and lamentation, of revelry and mourning. a consideration of some of the greek divinities who thus died and rose again from the dead may furnish us with a series of companion pictures to set side by side with the sad figures of adonis, attis, and osiris. we begin with dionysus. the god dionysus or bacchus is best known to us as a personification of the vine and of the exhilaration produced by the juice of the grape. his ecstatic worship, characterised by wild dances, thrilling music, and tipsy excess, appears to have originated among the rude tribes of thrace, who were notoriously addicted to drunkenness. its mystic doctrines and extravagant rites were essentially foreign to the clear intelligence and sober temperament of the greek race. yet appealing as it did to that love of mystery and that proneness to revert to savagery which seem to be innate in most men, the religion spread like wildfire through greece until the god whom homer hardly deigned to notice had become the most popular figure of the pantheon. the resemblance which his story and his ceremonies present to those of osiris have led some enquirers both in ancient and modern times to hold that dionysus was merely a disguised osiris, imported directly from egypt into greece. but the great preponderance of evidence points to his thracian origin, and the similarity of the two worships is sufficiently explained by the similarity of the ideas and customs on which they were founded. while the vine with its clusters was the most characteristic manifestation of dionysus, he was also a god of trees in general. thus we are told that almost all the greeks sacrificed to "dionysus of the tree." in boeotia one of his titles was "dionysus in the tree." his image was often merely an upright post, without arms, but draped in a mantle, with a bearded mask to represent the head, and with leafy boughs projecting from the head or body to show the nature of the deity. on a vase his rude effigy is depicted appearing out of a low tree or bush. at magnesia on the maeander an image of dionysus is said to have been found in a plane-tree, which had been broken by the wind. he was the patron of cultivated trees: prayers were offered to him that he would make the trees grow; and he was especially honoured by husbandmen, chiefly fruit-growers, who set up an image of him, in the shape of a natural tree-stump, in their orchards. he was said to have discovered all tree-fruits, amongst which apples and figs are particularly mentioned; and he was referred to as "well-fruited," "he of the green fruit," and "making the fruit to grow." one of his titles was "teeming" or "bursting" (as of sap or blossoms); and there was a flowery dionysus in attica and at patrae in achaia. the athenians sacrificed to him for the prosperity of the fruits of the land. amongst the trees particularly sacred to him, in addition to the vine, was the pine-tree. the delphic oracle commanded the corinthians to worship a particular pine-tree "equally with the god," so they made two images of dionysus out of it, with red faces and gilt bodies. in art a wand, tipped with a pine-cone, is commonly carried by the god or his worshippers. again, the ivy and the fig-tree were especially associated with him. in the attic township of acharnae there was a dionysus ivy; at lacedaemon there was a fig dionysus; and in naxos, where figs were called _meilicha,_ there was a dionysus meilichios, the face of whose image was made of fig-wood. further, there are indications, few but significant, that dionysus was conceived as a deity of agriculture and the corn. he is spoken of as himself doing the work of a husbandman: he is reported to have been the first to yoke oxen to the plough, which before had been dragged by hand alone; and some people found in this tradition the clue to the bovine shape in which, as we shall see, the god was often supposed to present himself to his worshippers. thus guiding the ploughshare and scattering the seed as he went, dionysus is said to have eased the labour of the husbandman. further, we are told that in the land of the bisaltae, a thracian tribe, there was a great and fair sanctuary of dionysus, where at his festival a bright light shone forth at night as a token of an abundant harvest vouchsafed by the diety; but if the crops were to fail that year, the mystic light was not seen, darkness brooded over the sanctuary as at other times. moreover, among the emblems of dionysus was the winnowing-fan, that is the large open shovel-shaped basket, which down to modern times has been used by farmers to separate the grain from the chaff by tossing the corn in the air. this simple agricultural instrument figured in the mystic rites of dionysus; indeed the god is traditionally said to have been placed at birth in a winnowing-fan as in a cradle: in art he is represented as an infant so cradled; and from these traditions and representations he derived the epithet of _liknites,_ that is, "he of the winnowing-fan." like other gods of vegetation dionysus was believed to have died a violent death, but to have been brought to life again; and his sufferings, death, and resurrection were enacted in his sacred rites. his tragic story is thus told by the poet nonnus. zeus in the form of a serpent visited persephone, and she bore him zagreus, that is, dionysus, a horned infant. scarcely was he born, when the babe mounted the throne of his father zeus and mimicked the great god by brandishing the lightning in his tiny hand. but he did not occupy the throne long; for the treacherous titans, their faces whitened with chalk, attacked him with knives while he was looking at himself in a mirror. for a time he evaded their assaults by turning himself into various shapes, assuming the likeness successively of zeus and cronus, of a young man, of a lion, a horse, and a serpent. finally, in the form of a bull, he was cut to pieces by the murderous knives of his enemies. his cretan myth, as related by firmicus maternus, ran thus. he was said to have been the bastard son of jupiter, a cretan king. going abroad, jupiter transferred the throne and sceptre to the youthful dionysus, but, knowing that his wife juno cherished a jealous dislike of the child, he entrusted dionysus to the care of guards upon whose fidelity he believed he could rely. juno, however, bribed the guards, and amusing the child with rattles and a cunningly-wrought looking glass lured him into an ambush, where her satellites, the titans, rushed upon him, cut him limb from limb, boiled his body with various herbs, and ate it. but his sister minerva, who had shared in the deed, kept his heart and gave it to jupiter on his return, revealing to him the whole history of the crime. in his rage, jupiter put the titans to death by torture, and, to soothe his grief for the loss of his son, made an image in which he enclosed the child's heart, and then built a temple in his honour. in this version a euhemeristic turn has been given to the myth by representing jupiter and juno (zeus and hera) as a king and queen of crete. the guards referred to are the mythical curetes who danced a war-dance round the infant dionysus, as they are said to have done round the infant zeus. very noteworthy is the legend, recorded both by nonnus and firmicus, that in his infancy dionysus occupied for a short time the throne of his father zeus. so proclus tells us that "dionysus was the last king of the gods appointed by zeus. for his father set him on the kingly throne, and placed in his hand the sceptre, and made him king of all the gods of the world." such traditions point to a custom of temporarily investing the king's son with the royal dignity as a preliminary to sacrificing him instead of his father. pomegranates were supposed to have sprung from the blood of dionysus, as anemones from the blood of adonis and violets from the blood of attis: hence women refrained from eating seeds of pomegranates at the festival of the thesmophoria. according to some, the severed limbs of dionysus were pieced together, at the command of zeus, by apollo, who buried them on parnassus. the grave of dionysus was shown in the delphic temple beside a golden statue of apollo. however, according to another account, the grave of dionysus was at thebes, where he is said to have been torn in pieces. thus far the resurrection of the slain god is not mentioned, but in other versions of the myth it is variously related. according to one version, which represented dionysus as a son of zeus and demeter, his mother pieced together his mangled limbs and made him young again. in others it is simply said that shortly after his burial he rose from the dead and ascended up to heaven; or that zeus raised him up as he lay mortally wounded; or that zeus swallowed the heart of dionysus and then begat him afresh by semele, who in the common legend figures as mother of dionysus. or, again, the heart was pounded up and given in a potion to semele, who thereby conceived him. turning from the myth to the ritual, we find that the cretans celebrated a biennial festival at which the passion of dionysus was represented in every detail. all that he had done or suffered in his last moments was enacted before the eyes of his worshippers, who tore a live bull to pieces with their teeth and roamed the woods with frantic shouts. in front of them was carried a casket supposed to contain the sacred heart of dionysus, and to the wild music of flutes and cymbals they mimicked the rattles by which the infant god had been lured to his doom. where the resurrection formed part of the myth, it also was acted at the rites, and it even appears that a general doctrine of resurrection, or at least of immortality, was inculcated on the worshippers; for plutarch, writing to console his wife on the death of their infant daughter, comforts her with the thought of the immortality of the soul as taught by tradition and revealed in the mysteries of dionysus. a different form of the myth of the death and resurrection of dionysus is that he descended into hades to bring up his mother semele from the dead. the local argive tradition was that he went down through the alcyonian lake; and his return from the lower world, in other words his resurrection, was annually celebrated on the spot by the argives, who summoned him from the water by trumpet blasts, while they threw a lamb into the lake as an offering to the warder of the dead. whether this was a spring festival does not appear, but the lydians certainly celebrated the advent of dionysus in spring; the god was supposed to bring the season with him. deities of vegetation, who are believed to pass a certain portion of each year underground, naturally come to be regarded as gods of the lower world or of the dead. both dionysus and osiris were so conceived. a feature in the mythical character of dionysus, which at first sight appears inconsistent with his nature as a deity of vegetation, is that he was often conceived and represented in animal shape, especially in the form, or at least with the horns, of a bull. thus he is spoken of as "cow-born," "bull," "bull-shaped," "bull-faced," "bull-browed," "bull-horned," "horn-bearing," "two-horned," "horned." he was believed to appear, at least occasionally, as a bull. his images were often, as at cyzicus, made in bull shape, or with bull horns; and he was painted with horns. types of the horned dionysus are found amongst the surviving monuments of antiquity. on one statuette he appears clad in a bull's hide, the head, horns, and hoofs hanging down behind. again, he is represented as a child with clusters of grapes round his brow, and a calf's head, with sprouting horns, attached to the back of his head. on a red-figured vase the god is portrayed as a calf-headed child seated on a woman's lap. the people of cynaetha held a festival of dionysus in winter, when men, who had greased their bodies with oil for the occasion, used to pick out a bull from the herd and carry it to the sanctuary of the god. dionysus was supposed to inspire their choice of the particular bull, which probably represented the deity himself; for at his festivals he was believed to appear in bull form. the women of elis hailed him as a bull, and prayed him to come with his bull's foot. they sang, "come hither, dionysus, to thy holy temple by the sea; come with the graces to thy temple, rushing with thy bull's foot, o goodly bull, o goodly bull!" the bacchanals of thrace wore horns in imitation of their god. according to the myth, it was in the shape of a bull that he was torn to pieces by the titans; and the cretans, when they acted the sufferings and death of dionysus, tore a live bull to pieces with their teeth. indeed, the rending and devouring of live bulls and calves appear to have been a regular feature of the dionysiac rites. when we consider the practice of portraying the god as a bull or with some of the features of the animal, the belief that he appeared in bull form to his worshippers at the sacred rites, and the legend that in bull form he had been torn in pieces, we cannot doubt that in rending and devouring a live bull at his festival the worshippers of dionysus believed themselves to be killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood. another animal whose form dionysus assumed was the goat. one of his names was "kid." at athens and at hermion he was worshipped under the title of "the one of the black goatskin," and a legend ran that on a certain occasion he had appeared clad in the skin from which he took the title. in the wine-growing district of phlius, where in autumn the plain is still thickly mantled with the red and golden foliage of the fading vines, there stood of old a bronze image of a goat, which the husbandmen plastered with gold-leaf as a means of protecting their vines against blight. the image probably represented the vine-god himself. to save him from the wrath of hera, his father zeus changed the youthful dionysus into a kid; and when the gods fled to egypt to escape the fury of typhon, dionysus was turned into a goat. hence when his worshippers rent in pieces a live goat and devoured it raw, they must have believed that they were eating the body and blood of the god. the custom of tearing in pieces the bodies of animals and of men and then devouring them raw has been practised as a religious rite by savages in modern times. we need not therefore dismiss as a fable the testimony of antiquity to the observance of similar rites among the frenzied worshippers of bacchus. the custom of killing a god in animal form, which we shall examine more in detail further on, belongs to a very early stage of human culture, and is apt in later times to be misunderstood. the advance of thought tends to strip the old animal and plant gods of their bestial and vegetable husk, and to leave their human attributes (which are always the kernel of the conception) as the final and sole residuum. in other words, animal and plant gods tend to become purely anthropomorphic. when they have become wholly or nearly so, the animals and plants which were at first the deities themselves, still retain a vague and ill-understood connexion with the anthropomorphic gods who have developed out of them. the origin of the relationship between the deity and the animal or plant having been forgotten, various stories are invented to explain it. these explanations may follow one of two lines according as they are based on the habitual or on the exceptional treatment of the sacred animal or plant. the sacred animal was habitually spared, and only exceptionally slain; and accordingly the myth might be devised to explain either why it was spared or why it was killed. devised for the former purpose, the myth would tell of some service rendered to the deity by the animal; devised for the latter purpose, the myth would tell of some injury inflicted by the animal on the god. the reason given for sacrificing goats to dionysus exemplifies a myth of the latter sort. they were sacrificed to him, it was said, because they injured the vine. now the goat, as we have seen, was originally an embodiment of the god himself. but when the god had divested himself of his animal character and had become essentially anthropomorphic, the killing of the goat in his worship came to be regarded no longer as a slaying of the deity himself, but as a sacrifice offered to him; and since some reason had to be assigned why the goat in particular should be sacrificed, it was alleged that this was a punishment inflicted on the goat for injuring the vine, the object of the god's especial care. thus we have the strange spectacle of a god sacrificed to himself on the ground that he is his own enemy. and as the deity is supposed to partake of the victim offered to him, it follows that, when the victim is the god's old self, the god eats of his own flesh. hence the goat-god dionysus is represented as eating raw goat's blood; and the bull-god dionysus is called "eater of bulls." on the analogy of these instances we may conjecture that wherever a deity is described as the eater of a particular animal, the animal in question was originally nothing but the deity himself. later on we shall find that some savages propitiate dead bears and whales by offering them portions of their own bodies. all this, however, does not explain why a deity of vegetation should appear in animal form. but the consideration of that point had better be deferred till we have discussed the character and attributes of demeter. meantime it remains to mention that in some places, instead of an animal, a human being was torn in pieces at the rites of dionysus. this was the practice in chios and tenedos; and at potniae in boeotia the tradition ran that it had been formerly the custom to sacrifice to the goat-smiting dionysus a child, for whom a goat was afterwards substituted. at orchomenus, as we have seen, the human victim was taken from the women of an old royal family. as the slain bull or goat represented the slain god, so, we may suppose, the human victim also represented him. the legends of the deaths of pentheus and lycurgus, two kings who are said to have been torn to pieces, the one by bacchanals, the other by horses, for their opposition to the rites of dionysus, may be, as i have already suggested, distorted reminiscences of a custom of sacrificing divine kings in the character of dionysus and of dispersing the fragments of their broken bodies over the fields for the purpose of fertilising them. it is probably no mere coincidence that dionysus himself is said to have been torn in pieces at thebes, the very place where according to legend the same fate befell king pentheus at the hands of the frenzied votaries of the vine-god. however, a tradition of human sacrifice may sometimes have been a mere misinterpretation of a sacrificial ritual in which an animal victim was treated as a human being. for example, at tenedos the new-born calf sacrificed to dionysus was shod in buskins, and the mother cow was tended like a woman in child-bed. at rome a shegoat was sacrificed to vedijovis as if it were a human victim. yet on the other hand it is equally possible, and perhaps more probable, that these curious rites were themselves mitigations of an older and ruder custom of sacrificing human beings, and that the later pretence of treating the sacrificial victims as if they were human beings was merely part of a pious and merciful fraud, which palmed off on the deity less precious victims than living men and women. this interpretation is supported by many undoubted cases in which animals have been substituted for human victims. xliv. demeter and persephone dionysus was not the only greek deity whose tragic story and ritual appear to reflect the decay and revival of vegetation. in another form and with a different application the old tale reappears in the myth of demeter and persephone. substantially their myth is identical with the syrian one of aphrodite (astarte) and adonis, the phrygian one of cybele and attis, and the egyptian one of isis and osiris. in the greek fable, as in its asiatic and egyptian counterparts, a goddess mourns the loss of a loved one, who personifies the vegetation, more especially the corn, which dies in winter to revive in spring; only whereas the oriental imagination figured the loved and lost one as a dead lover or a dead husband lamented by his leman or his wife, greek fancy embodied the same idea in the tenderer and purer form of a dead daughter bewailed by her sorrowing mother. the oldest literary document which narrates the myth of demeter and persephone is the beautiful homeric _hymn to demeter,_ which critics assign to the seventh century before our era. the object of the poem is to explain the origin of the eleusinian mysteries, and the complete silence of the poet as to athens and the athenians, who in after ages took conspicuous part in the festival, renders it probable that the hymn was composed in the far off time when eleusis was still a petty independent state, and before the stately procession of the mysteries had begun to defile, in bright september days, over the low chain of barren rocky hills which divides the flat eleusinian cornland from the more spacious olive-clad expanse of the athenian plain. be that as it may, the hymn reveals to us the conception which the writer entertained of the character and functions of the two goddesses; their natural shapes stand out sharply enough under the thin veil of poetical imagery. the youthful persephone, so runs the tale, was gathering roses and lilies, crocuses and violets, hyacinths and narcissuses in a lush meadow, when the earth gaped and pluto, lord of the dead, issuing from the abyss carried her off on his golden car to be his bride and queen in the gloomy subterranean world. her sorrowing mother demeter, with her yellow tresses veiled in a dark mourning mantle, sought her over land and sea, and learning from the sun her daughter's fate she withdrew in high dudgeon from the gods and took up her abode at eleusis, where she presented herself to the king's daughters in the guise of an old woman, sitting sadly under the shadow of an olive tree beside the maiden's well, to which the damsels had come to draw water in bronze pitchers for their father's house. in her wrath at her bereavement the goddess suffered not the seed to grow in the earth but kept it hidden under ground, and she vowed that never would she set foot on olympus and never would she let the corn sprout till her lost daughter should be restored to her. vainly the oxen dragged the ploughs to and fro in the fields; vainly the sower dropped the barley seed in the brown furrows; nothing came up from the parched and crumbling soil. even the rarian plain near eleusis, which was wont to wave with yellow harvests, lay bare and fallow. mankind would have perished of hunger and the gods would have been robbed of the sacrifices which were their due, if zeus in alarm had not commanded pluto to disgorge his prey, to restore his bride persephone to her mother demeter. the grim lord of the dead smiled and obeyed, but before he sent back his queen to the upper air on a golden car, he gave her the seed of a pomegranate to eat, which ensured that she would return to him. but zeus stipulated that henceforth persephone should spend two thirds of every year with her mother and the gods in the upper world and one third of the year with her husband in the nether world, from which she was to return year by year when the earth was gay with spring flowers. gladly the daughter then returned to the sunshine, gladly her mother received her and fell upon her neck; and in her joy at recovering the lost one demeter made the corn to sprout from the clods of the ploughed fields and all the broad earth to be heavy with leaves and blossoms. and straightway she went and showed this happy sight to the princes of eleusis, to triptolemus, eumolpus, diocles, and to the king celeus himself, and moreover she revealed to them her sacred rites and mysteries. blessed, says the poet, is the mortal man who has seen these things, but he who has had no share of them in life will never be happy in death when he has descended into the darkness of the grave. so the two goddesses departed to dwell in bliss with the gods on olympus; and the bard ends the hymn with a pious prayer to demeter and persephone that they would be pleased to grant him a livelihood in return for his song. it has been generally recognised, and indeed it seems scarcely open to doubt, that the main theme which the poet set before himself in composing this hymn was to describe the traditional foundation of the eleusinian mysteries by the goddess demeter. the whole poem leads up to the transformation scene in which the bare leafless expanse of the eleusinian plain is suddenly turned, at the will of the goddess, into a vast sheet of ruddy corn; the beneficent deity takes the princes of eleusis, shows them what she has done, teaches them her mystic rites, and vanishes with her daughter to heaven. the revelation of the mysteries is the triumphal close of the piece. this conclusion is confirmed by a more minute examination of the poem, which proves that the poet has given, not merely a general account of the foundation of the mysteries, but also in more or less veiled language mythical explanations of the origin of particular rites which we have good reason to believe formed essential features of the festival. amongst the rites as to which the poet thus drops significant hints are the preliminary fast of the candidates for initiation, the torchlight procession, the all-night vigil, the sitting of the candidates, veiled and in silence, on stools covered with sheepskins, the use of scurrilous language, the breaking of ribald jests, and the solemn communion with the divinity by participation in a draught of barley-water from a holy chalice. but there is yet another and a deeper secret of the mysteries which the author of the poem appears to have divulged under cover of his narrative. he tells us how, as soon as she had transformed the barren brown expanse of the eleusinian plain into a field of golden grain, she gladdened the eyes of triptolemus and the other eleusinian princes by showing them the growing or standing corn. when we compare this part of the story with the statement of a christian writer of the second century, hippolytus, that the very heart of the mysteries consisted in showing to the initiated a reaped ear of corn, we can hardly doubt that the poet of the hymn was well acquainted with this solemn rite, and that he deliberately intended to explain its origin in precisely the same way as he explained other rites of the mysteries, namely by representing demeter as having set the example of performing the ceremony in her own person. thus myth and ritual mutually explain and confirm each other. the poet of the seventh century before our era gives us the myth--he could not without sacrilege have revealed the ritual: the christian father reveals the ritual, and his revelation accords perfectly with the veiled hint of the old poet. on the whole, then, we may, with many modern scholars, confidently accept the statement of the learned christian father clement of alexandria, that the myth of demeter and persephone was acted as a sacred drama in the mysteries of eleusis. but if the myth was acted as a part, perhaps as the principal part, of the most famous and solemn religious rites of ancient greece, we have still to enquire, what was, after all, stripped of later accretions, the original kernel of the myth which appears to later ages surrounded and transfigured by an aureole of awe and mystery, lit up by some of the most brilliant rays of grecian literature and art? if we follow the indications given by our oldest literary authority on the subject, the author of the homeric hymn to demeter, the riddle is not hard to read; the figures of the two goddesses, the mother and the daughter, resolve themselves into personifications of the corn. at least this appears to be fairly certain for the daughter persephone. the goddess who spends three or, according to another version of the myth, six months of every year with the dead under ground and the remainder of the year with the living above ground; in whose absence the barley seed is hidden in the earth and the fields lie bare and fallow; on whose return in spring to the upper world the corn shoots up from the clods and the earth is heavy with leaves and blossoms--this goddess can surely be nothing else than a mythical embodiment of the vegetation, and particularly of the corn, which is buried under the soil for some months of every winter and comes to life again, as from the grave, in the sprouting cornstalks and the opening flowers and foliage of every spring. no other reasonable and probable explanation of persephone seems possible. and if the daughter goddess was a personification of the young corn of the present year, may not the mother goddess be a personification of the old corn of last year, which has given birth to the new crops? the only alternative to this view of demeter would seem to be to suppose that she is a personification of the earth, from whose broad bosom the corn and all other plants spring up, and of which accordingly they may appropriately enough be regarded as the daughters. this view of the original nature of demeter has indeed been taken by some writers, both ancient and modern, and it is one which can be reasonably maintained. but it appears to have been rejected by the author of the homeric hymn to demeter, for he not only distinguishes demeter from the personified earth but places the two in the sharpest opposition to each other. he tells us that it was earth who, in accordance with the will of zeus and to please pluto, lured persephone to her doom by causing the narcissuses to grow which tempted the young goddess to stray far beyond the reach of help in the lush meadow. thus demeter of the hymn, far from being identical with the earth-goddess, must have regarded that divinity as her worst enemy, since it was to her insidious wiles that she owed the loss of her daughter. but if the demeter of the hymn cannot have been a personification of the earth, the only alternative apparently is to conclude that she was a personification of the corn. the conclusion is confirmed by the monuments; for in ancient art demeter and persephone are alike characterised as goddesses of the corn by the crowns of corn which they wear on their heads and by the stalks of corn which they hold in their hands. again, it was demeter who first revealed to the athenians the secret of the corn and diffused the beneficent discovery far and wide through the agency of triptolemus, whom she sent forth as an itinerant missionary to communicate the boon to all mankind. on monuments of art, especially in vase-paintings, he is constantly represented along with demeter in this capacity, holding corn-stalks in his hand and sitting in his car, which is sometimes winged and sometimes drawn by dragons, and from which he is said to have sowed the seed down on the whole world as he sped through the air. in gratitude for the priceless boon many greek cities long continued to send the first-fruits of their barley and wheat harvests as thank-offerings to the two goddesses, demeter and persephone, at eleusis, where subterranean granaries were built to store the overflowing contributions. theocritus tells how in the island of cos, in the sweet-scented summer time, the farmer brought the first-fruits of the harvest to demeter who had filled his threshingfloor with barley, and whose rustic image held sheaves and poppies in her hands. many of the epithets bestowed by the ancients on demeter mark her intimate association with the corn in the clearest manner. how deeply implanted in the mind of the ancient greeks was this faith in demeter as goddess of the corn may be judged by the circumstance that the faith actually persisted among their christian descendants at her old sanctuary of eleusis down to the beginning of the nineteenth century. for when the english traveller dodwell revisited eleusis, the inhabitants lamented to him the loss of a colossal image of demeter, which was carried off by clarke in and presented to the university of cambridge, where it still remains. "in my first journey to greece," says dodwell, "this protecting deity was in its full glory, situated in the centre of a threshing-floor, amongst the ruins of her temple. the villagers were impressed with a persuasion that their rich harvests were the effect of her bounty, and since her removal, their abundance, as they assured me, has disappeared." thus we see the corn goddess demeter standing on the threshing-floor of eleusis and dispensing corn to her worshippers in the nineteenth century of the christian era, precisely as her image stood and dispensed corn to her worshippers on the threshing-floor of cos in the days of theocritus. and just as the people of eleusis in the nineteenth century attributed the diminution of their harvests to the loss of the image of demeter, so in antiquity the sicilians, a corn-growing people devoted to the worship of the two corn goddesses, lamented that the crops of many towns had perished because the unscrupulous roman governor verres had impiously carried off the image of demeter from her famous temple at henna. could we ask for a clearer proof that demeter was indeed the goddess of the corn than this belief, held by the greeks down to modern times, that the corn-crops depended on her presence and bounty and perished when her image was removed? on the whole, then, if, ignoring theories, we adhere to the evidence of the ancients themselves in regard to the rites of eleusis, we shall probably incline to agree with the most learned of ancient antiquaries, the roman varro, who, to quote augustine's report of his opinion, "interpreted the whole of the eleusinian mysteries as relating to the corn which ceres (demeter) had discovered, and to proserpine (persephone), whom pluto had carried off from her. and proserpine herself he said, signifies the fecundity of the seeds, the failure of which at a certain time had caused the earth to mourn for barrenness, and therefore had given rise to the opinion that the daughter of ceres, that is, fecundity itself, had been ravished by pluto and detained in the nether world; and when the dearth had been publicly mourned and fecundity had returned once more, there was gladness at the return of proserpine and solemn rites were instituted accordingly. after that he says," continues augustine, reporting varro, "that many things were taught in her mysteries which had no reference but to the discovery of the corn." thus far i have for the most part assumed an identity of nature between demeter and persephone, the divine mother and daughter personifying the corn in its double aspect of the seed-corn of last year and the ripe ears of this, and this view of the substantial unity of mother and daughter is borne out by their portraits in greek art, which are often so alike as to be indistinguishable. such a close resemblance between the artistic types of demeter and persephone militates decidedly against the view that the two goddesses are mythical embodiments of two things so different and so easily distinguishable from each other as the earth and the vegetation which springs from it. had greek artists accepted that view of demeter and persephone, they could surely have devised types of them which would have brought out the deep distinction between the goddesses. and if demeter did not personify the earth, can there be any reasonable doubt that, like her daughter, she personified the corn which was so commonly called by her name from the time of homer downwards? the essential identity of mother and daughter is suggested, not only by the close resemblance of their artistic types, but also by the official title of "the two goddesses" which was regularly applied to them in the great sanctuary at eleusis without any specification of their individual attributes and titles, as if their separate individualities had almost merged in a single divine substance. surveying the evidence as a whole, we are fairly entitled to conclude that in the mind of the ordinary greek the two goddesses were essentially personifications of the corn, and that in this germ the whole efflorescence of their religion finds implicitly its explanation. but to maintain this is not to deny that in the long course of religious evolution high moral and spiritual conceptions were grafted on this simple original stock and blossomed out into fairer flowers than the bloom of the barley and the wheat. above all, the thought of the seed buried in the earth in order to spring up to new and higher life readily suggested a comparison with human destiny, and strengthened the hope that for man too the grave may be but the beginning of a better and happier existence in some brighter world unknown. this simple and natural reflection seems perfectly sufficient to explain the association of the corn goddess at eleusis with the mystery of death and the hope of a blissful immortality. for that the ancients regarded initiation in the eleusinian mysteries as a key to unlock the gates of paradise appears to be proved by the allusions which well-informed writers among them drop to the happiness in store for the initiated hereafter. no doubt it is easy for us to discern the flimsiness of the logical foundation on which such high hopes were built. but drowning men clutch at straws, and we need not wonder that the greeks, like ourselves, with death before them and a great love of life in their hearts, should not have stopped to weigh with too nice a hand the arguments that told for and against the prospect of human immortality. the reasoning that satisfied saint paul and has brought comfort to untold thousands of sorrowing christians, standing by the deathbed or the open grave of their loved ones, was good enough to pass muster with ancient pagans, when they too bowed their heads under the burden of grief, and, with the taper of life burning low in the socket, looked forward into the darkness of the unknown. therefore we do no indignity to the myth of demeter and persephone--one of the few myths in which the sunshine and clarity of the greek genius are crossed by the shadow and mystery of death--when we trace its origin to some of the most familiar, yet eternally affecting aspects of nature, to the melancholy gloom and decay of autumn and to the freshness, the brightness, and the verdure of spring. xlv. the corn-mother and the corn-maiden in northern europe it has been argued by w. mannhardt that the first part of demeter's name is derived from an alleged cretan word _deai,_ "barley," and that accordingly demeter means neither more nor less than "barley-mother" or "corn-mother"; for the root of the word seems to have been applied to different kinds of grain by different branches of the aryans. as crete appears to have been one of the most ancient seats of the worship of demeter, it would not be surprising if her name were of cretan origin. but the etymology is open to serious objections, and it is safer therefore to lay no stress on it. be that as it may, we have found independent reasons for identifying demeter as the corn-mother, and of the two species of corn associated with her in greek religion, namely barley and wheat, the barley has perhaps the better claim to be her original element; for not only would it seem to have been the staple food of the greeks in the homeric age, but there are grounds for believing that it is one of the oldest, if not the very oldest, cereal cultivated by the aryan race. certainly the use of barley in the religious ritual of the ancient hindoos as well as of the ancient greeks furnishes a strong argument in favour of the great antiquity of its cultivation, which is known to have been practised by the lake-dwellers of the stone age in europe. analogies to the corn-mother or barley-mother of ancient greece have been collected in great abundance by w. mannhardt from the folk-lore of modern europe. the following may serve as specimens. in germany the corn is very commonly personified under the name of the corn-mother. thus in spring, when the corn waves in the wind, the peasants say, "there comes the corn-mother," or "the corn-mother is running over the field," or "the corn-mother is going through the corn." when children wish to go into the fields to pull the blue corn-flowers or the red poppies, they are told not to do so, because the corn-mother is sitting in the corn and will catch them. or again she is called, according to the crop, the rye-mother or the pea-mother, and children are warned against straying in the rye or among the peas by threats of the rye-mother or the pea-mother. again the corn-mother is believed to make the crop grow. thus in the neighbourhood of magdeburg it is sometimes said, "it will be a good year for flax; the flax-mother has been seen." in a village of styria it is said that the corn-mother, in the shape of a female puppet made out of the last sheaf of corn and dressed in white, may be seen at mid-night in the corn-fields, which she fertilises by passing through them; but if she is angry with a farmer, she withers up all his corn. further, the corn-mother plays an important part in harvest customs. she is believed to be present in the handful of corn which is left standing last on the field; and with the cutting of this last handful she is caught, or driven away, or killed. in the first of these cases, the last sheaf is carried joyfully home and honoured as a divine being. it is placed in the barn, and at threshing the corn-spirit appears again. in the hanoverian district of hadeln the reapers stand round the last sheaf and beat it with sticks in order to drive the corn-mother out of it. they call to each other, "there she is! hit her! take care she doesn't catch you!" the beating goes on till the grain is completely threshed out; then the corn-mother is believed to be driven away. in the neighbourhood of danzig the person who cuts the last ears of corn makes them into a doll, which is called the corn-mother or the old woman and is brought home on the last waggon. in some parts of holstein the last sheaf is dressed in woman's clothes and called the corn-mother. it is carried home on the last waggon, and then thoroughly drenched with water. the drenching with water is doubtless a rain-charm. in the district of bruck in styria the last sheaf, called the corn-mother, is made up into the shape of a woman by the oldest married woman in the village, of an age from fifty to fifty-five years. the finest ears are plucked out of it and made into a wreath, which, twined with flowers, is carried on her head by the prettiest girl of the village to the farmer or squire, while the corn-mother is laid down in the barn to keep off the mice. in other villages of the same district the corn-mother, at the close of harvest, is carried by two lads at the top of a pole. they march behind the girl who wears the wreath to the squire's house, and while he receives the wreath and hangs it up in the hall, the corn-mother is placed on the top of a pile of wood, where she is the centre of the harvest supper and dance. afterwards she is hung up in the barn and remains there till the threshing is over. the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the son of the corn-mother; he is tied up in the corn-mother, beaten, and carried through the village. the wreath is dedicated in church on the following sunday; and on easter eve the grain is rubbed out of it by a seven-year-old girl and scattered amongst the young corn. at christmas the straw of the wreath is placed in the manger to make the cattle thrive. here the fertilising power of the corn-mother is plainly brought out by scattering the seed taken from her body (for the wreath is made out of the corn-mother) among the new corn; and her influence over animal life is indicated by placing the straw in the manger. amongst the slavs also the last sheaf is known as the rye-mother, the wheat-mother, the oats-mother, the barley-mother, and so on, according to the crop. in the district of tarnow, galicia, the wreath made out of the last stalks is called the wheat-mother, rye-mother, or pea-mother. it is placed on a girl's head and kept till spring, when some of the grain is mixed with the seed-corn. here again the fertilising power of the corn-mother is indicated. in france, also, in the neighbourhood of auxerre, the last sheaf goes by the name of the mother of the wheat, mother of the barley, mother of the rye, or mother of the oats. they leave it standing in the field till the last waggon is about to wend homewards. then they make a puppet out of it, dress it with clothes belonging to the farmer, and adorn it with a crown and a blue or white scarf. a branch of a tree is stuck in the breast of the puppet, which is now called the ceres. at the dance in the evening the ceres is set in the middle of the floor, and the reaper who reaped fastest dances round it with the prettiest girl for his partner. after the dance a pyre is made. all the girls, each wearing a wreath, strip the puppet, pull it to pieces, and place it on the pyre, along with the flowers with which it was adorned. then the girl who was the first to finish reaping sets fire to the pile, and all pray that ceres may give a fruitful year. here, as mannhardt observes, the old custom has remained intact, though the name ceres is a bit of schoolmaster's learning. in upper brittany the last sheaf is always made into human shape; but if the farmer is a married man, it is made double and consists of a little corn-puppet placed inside of a large one. this is called the mother-sheaf. it is delivered to the farmer's wife, who unties it and gives drink-money in return. sometimes the last sheaf is called, not the corn-mother, but the harvest-mother or the great mother. in the province of osnabrück, hanover, it is called the harvest-mother; it is made up in female form, and then the reapers dance about with it. in some parts of westphalia the last sheaf at the rye-harvest is made especially heavy by fastening stones in it. they bring it home on the last waggon and call it the great mother, though they do not fashion it into any special shape. in the district of erfurt a very heavy sheaf, not necessarily the last, is called the great mother, and is carried on the last waggon to the barn, where all hands lift it down amid a fire of jokes. sometimes again the last sheaf is called the grandmother, and is adorned with flowers, ribbons, and a woman's apron. in east prussia, at the rye or wheat harvest, the reapers call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "you are getting the old grandmother." in the neighbourhood of magdeburg the men and women servants strive who shall get the last sheaf, called the grandmother. whoever gets it will be married in the next year, but his or her spouse will be old; if a girl gets it, she will marry a widower; if a man gets it, he will marry an old crone. in silesia the grandmother--a huge bundle made up of three or four sheaves by the person who tied the last sheaf--was formerly fashioned into a rude likeness of the human form. in the neighbourhood of belfast the last sheaf sometimes goes by the name of the granny. it is not cut in the usual way, but all the reapers throw their sickles at it and try to bring it down. it is plaited and kept till the (next?) autumn. whoever gets it will marry in the course of the year. often the last sheaf is called the old woman or the old man. in germany it is frequently shaped and dressed as a woman, and the person who cuts it or binds it is said to "get the old woman." at altisheim, in swabia, when all the corn of a farm has been cut except a single strip, all the reapers stand in a row before the strip; each cuts his share rapidly, and he who gives the last cut "has the old woman." when the sheaves are being set up in heaps, the person who gets hold of the old woman, which is the largest and thickest of all the sheaves, is jeered at by the rest, who call out to him, "he has the old woman and must keep her." the woman who binds the last sheaf is sometimes herself called the old woman, and it is said that she will be married in the next year. in neusaass, west prussia, both the last sheaf--which is dressed up in jacket, hat, and ribbons--and the woman who binds it are called the old woman. together they are brought home on the last waggon and are drenched with water. in various parts of north germany the last sheaf at harvest is made up into a human effigy and called "the old man"; and the woman who bound it is said "to have the old man." in west prussia, when the last rye is being raked together, the women and girls hurry with the work, for none of them likes to be the last and to get "the old man," that is, a puppet made out of the last sheaf, which must be carried before the other reapers by the person who was the last to finish. in silesia the last sheaf is called the old woman or the old man and is the theme of many jests; it is made unusually large and is sometimes weighted with a stone. among the wends the man or woman who binds the last sheaf at wheat harvest is said to "have the old man." a puppet is made out of the wheaten straw and ears in the likeness of a man and decked with flowers. the person who bound the last sheaf must carry the old man home, while the rest laugh and jeer at him. the puppet is hung up in the farmhouse and remains till a new old man is made at the next harvest. in some of these customs, as mannhardt has remarked, the person who is called by the same name as the last sheaf and sits beside it on the last waggon is obviously identified with it; he or she represents the corn-spirit which has been caught in the last sheaf; in other words, the corn-spirit is represented in duplicate, by a human being and by a sheaf. the identification of the person with the sheaf is made still clearer by the custom of wrapping up in the last sheaf the person who cuts or binds it. thus at hermsdorf in silesia it used to be the regular practice to tie up in the last sheaf the woman who had bound it. at weiden, in bavaria, it is the cutter, not the binder, of the last sheaf who is tied up in it. here the person wrapt up in the corn represents the corn-spirit, exactly as a person wrapt in branches or leaves represents the tree-spirit. the last sheaf, designated as the old woman, is often distinguished from the other sheaves by its size and weight. thus in some villages of west prussia the old woman is made twice as long and thick as a common sheaf, and a stone is fastened in the middle of it. sometimes it is made so heavy that a man can barely lift it. at alt-pillau, in samland, eight or nine sheaves are often tied together to make the old woman, and the man who sets it up grumbles at its weight. at itzgrund, in saxe-coburg, the last sheaf, called the old woman, is made large with the express intention of thereby securing a good crop next year. thus the custom of making the last sheaf unusually large or heavy is a charm, working by sympathetic magic, to ensure a large and heavy crop at the following harvest. in scotland, when the last corn was cut after hallowmas, the female figure made out of it was sometimes called the carlin or carline, that is, the old woman. but if cut before hallowmas, it was called the maiden; if cut after sunset, it was called the witch, being supposed to bring bad luck. among the highlanders of scotland the last corn cut at harvest is known either as the old wife (_cailleach_) or as the maiden; on the whole the former name seems to prevail in the western and the latter in the central and eastern districts. of the maiden we shall speak presently; here we are dealing with the old wife. the following general account of the custom is given by a careful and well-informed enquirer, the rev. j. g. campbell, minister of the remote hebridean island of tiree: "the harvest old wife (_a cailleach_).--in harvest, there was a struggle to escape from being the last done with the shearing, and when tillage in common existed, instances were known of a ridge being left unshorn (no person would claim it) because of it being behind the rest. the fear entertained was that of having the 'famine of the farm' (_gort a bhaile_), in the shape of an imaginary old woman (_cailleach_), to feed till next harvest. much emulation and amusement arose from the fear of this old woman. . . . the first done made a doll of some blades of corn, which was called the 'old wife,' and sent it to his nearest neighbour. he in turn, when ready, passed it to another still less expeditious, and the person it last remained with had 'the old woman' to keep for that year." in the island of islay the last corn cut goes by the name of the old wife (_cailleach_), and when she has done her duty at harvest she is hung up on the wall and stays there till the time comes to plough the fields for the next year's crop. then she is taken down, and on the first day when the men go to plough she is divided among them by the mistress of the house. they take her in their pockets and give her to the horses to eat when they reach the field. this is supposed to secure good luck for the next harvest, and is understood to be the proper end of the old wife. usages of the same sort are reported from wales. thus in north pembrokeshire a tuft of the last corn cut, from six to twelve inches long, is plaited and goes by the name of the hag (_wrach_); and quaint old customs used to be practised with it within the memory of many persons still alive. great was the excitement among the reapers when the last patch of standing corn was reached. all in turn threw their sickles at it, and the one who succeeded in cutting it received a jug of home-brewed ale. the hag (_wrach_) was then hurriedly made and taken to a neighbouring farm, where the reapers were still busy at their work. this was generally done by the ploughman; but he had to be very careful not to be observed by his neighbours, for if they saw him coming and had the least suspicion of his errand they would soon make him retrace his steps. creeping stealthily up behind a fence he waited till the foreman of his neighbour's reapers was just opposite him and within easy reach. then he suddenly threw the hag over the fence and, if possible, upon the foreman's sickle. on that he took to his heels and made off as fast as he could run, and he was a lucky man if he escaped without being caught or cut by the flying sickles which the infuriated reapers hurled after him. in other cases the hag was brought home to the farmhouse by one of the reapers. he did his best to bring it home dry and without being observed; but he was apt to be roughly handled by the people of the house, if they suspected his errand. sometimes they stripped him of most of his clothes, sometimes they would drench him with water which had been carefully stored in buckets and pans for the purpose. if, however, he succeeded in bringing the hag in dry and unobserved, the master of the house had to pay him a small fine; or sometimes a jug of beer "from the cask next to the wall," which seems to have commonly held the best beer, would be demanded by the bearer. the hag was then carefully hung on a nail in the hall or elsewhere and kept there all the year. the custom of bringing in the hag (_wrach_) into the house and hanging it up still exists in some farms of north pembrokeshire, but the ancient ceremonies which have just been described are now discontinued. in county antrim, down to some years ago, when the sickle was finally expelled by the reaping machine, the few stalks of corn left standing last on the field were plaited together; then the reapers, blindfolded, threw their sickles at the plaited corn, and whoever happened to cut it through took it home with him and put it over his door. this bunch of corn was called the carley--probably the same word as carlin. similar customs are observed by slavonic peoples. thus in poland the last sheaf is commonly called the baba, that is, the old woman. "in the last sheaf," it is said, "sits the baba." the sheaf itself is also called the baba, and is sometimes composed of twelve smaller sheaves lashed together. in some parts of bohemia the baba, made out of the last sheaf, has the figure of a woman with a great straw hat. it is carried home on the last harvest-waggon and delivered, along with a garland, to the farmer by two girls. in binding the sheaves the women strive not to be last, for she who binds the last sheaf will have a child next year. sometimes the harvesters call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "she has the baba," or "she is the baba." in the district of cracow, when a man binds the last sheaf, they say, "the grandfather is sitting in it"; when a woman binds it, they say, "the baba is sitting in it," and the woman herself is wrapt up in the sheaf, so that only her head projects out of it. thus encased in the sheaf, she is carried on the last harvest-waggon to the house, where she is drenched with water by the whole family. she remains in the sheaf till the dance is over, and for a year she retains the name of baba. in lithuania the name for the last sheaf is boba (old woman), answering to the polish name baba. the boba is said to sit in the corn which is left standing last. the person who binds the last sheaf or digs the last potato is the subject of much banter, and receives and long retains the name of the old rye-woman or the old potato-woman. the last sheaf--the boba--is made into the form of a woman, carried solemnly through the village on the last harvest-waggon, and drenched with water at the farmer's house; then every one dances with it. in russia also the last sheaf is often shaped and dressed as a woman, and carried with dance and song to the farmhouse. out of the last sheaf the bulgarians make a doll which they call the corn-queen or corn-mother; it is dressed in a woman's shirt, carried round the village, and then thrown into the river in order to secure plenty of rain and dew for the next year's crop. or it is burned and the ashes strew on the fields, doubtless to fertilise them. the name queen, as applied to the last sheaf, has its analogies in central and northern europe. thus, in the salzburg district of austria, at the end of the harvest a great procession takes place, in which a queen of the corn-ears (_�hrenkönigin_) is drawn along in a little carriage by young fellows. the custom of the harvest queen appears to have been common in england. milton must have been familiar with it, for in _paradise lost_ he says: "adam the while waiting desirous her return, had wove of choicest flow'rs a garland to adorn her tresses, and her rural labours crown, as reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen." often customs of this sort are practised, not on the harvest-field but on the threshing-floor. the spirit of the corn, fleeing before the reapers as they cut down the ripe grain, quits the reaped corn and takes refuge in the barn, where it appears in the last sheaf threshed, either to perish under the blows of the flail or to flee thence to the still unthreshed corn of a neighbouring farm. thus the last corn to be threshed is called the mother-corn or the old woman. sometimes the person who gives the last stroke with the flail is called the old woman, and is wrapt in the straw of the last sheaf, or has a bundle of straw fastened on his back. whether wrapt in the straw or carrying it on his back, he is carted through the village amid general laughter. in some districts of bavaria, thüringen, and elsewhere, the man who threshes the last sheaf is said to have the old woman or the old corn-woman; he is tied up in straw, carried or carted about the village, and set down at last on the dunghill, or taken to the threshing-floor of a neighbouring farmer who has not finished his threshing. in poland the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is called baba (old woman); he is wrapt in corn and wheeled through the village. sometimes in lithuania the last sheaf is not threshed, but is fashioned into female shape and carried to the barn of a neighbour who has not finished his threshing. in some parts of sweden, when a stranger woman appears on the threshing-floor, a flail is put round her body, stalks of corn are wound round her neck, a crown of ears is placed on her head, and the threshers call out, "behold the corn-woman." here the stranger woman, thus suddenly appearing, is taken to be the corn-spirit who has just been expelled by the flails from the corn-stalks. in other cases the farmer's wife represents the corn-spirit. thus in the commune of saligné (vendée), the farmer's wife, along with the last sheaf, is tied up in a sheet, placed on a litter, and carried to the threshing machine, under which she is shoved. then the woman is drawn out and the sheaf is threshed by itself, but the woman is tossed in the sheet, as if she were being winnowed. it would be impossible to express more clearly the identification of the woman with the corn than by this graphic imitation of threshing and winnowing her. in these customs the spirit of the ripe corn is regarded as old, or at least as of mature age. hence the names of mother, grandmother, old woman, and so forth. but in other cases the corn-spirit is conceived as young. thus at saldern, near wolfenbuttel, when the rye has been reaped, three sheaves are tied together with a rope so as to make a puppet with the corn ears for a head. this puppet is called the maiden or the corn-maiden. sometimes the corn-spirit is conceived as a child who is separated from its mother by the stroke of the sickle. this last view appears in the polish custom of calling out to the man who cuts the last handful of corn, "you have cut the navel-string." in some districts of west prussia the figure made out of the last sheaf is called the bastard, and a boy is wrapt up in it. the woman who binds the last sheaf and represents the corn-mother is told that she is about to be brought to bed; she cries like a woman in travail, and an old woman in the character of grandmother acts as midwife. at last a cry is raised that the child is born; whereupon the boy who is tied up in the sheaf whimpers and squalls like an infant. the grandmother wraps a sack, in imitation of swaddling bands, round the pretended baby, who is carried joyfully to the barn, lest he should catch cold in the open air. in other parts of north germany the last sheaf, or the puppet made out of it, is called the child, the harvest-child, and so on, and they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "you are getting the child." in some parts of scotland, as well as in the north of england, the last handful of corn cut on the harvest-field was called the _kirn,_ and the person who carried it off was said "to win the kirn." it was then dressed up like a child's doll and went by the name of the kirn-baby, the kirn-doll, or the maiden. in berwickshire down to about the middle of the nineteenth century there was an eager competition among the reapers to cut the last bunch of standing corn. they gathered round it at a little distance and threw their sickles in turn at it, and the man who succeeded in cutting it through gave it to the girl he preferred. she made the corn so cut into a kirn-dolly and dressed it, and the doll was then taken to the farmhouse and hung up there till the next harvest, when its place was taken by the new kirn-dolly. at spottiswoode in berwickshire the reaping of the last corn at harvest was called "cutting the queen" almost as often as "cutting the kirn." the mode of cutting it was not by throwing sickles. one of the reapers consented to be blindfolded, and having been given a sickle in his hand and turned twice or thrice about by his fellows, he was bidden to go and cut the kirn. his groping about and making wild strokes in the air with his sickle excited much hilarity. when he had tired himself out in vain and given up the task as hopeless, another reaper was blindfolded and pursued the quest, and so on, one after the other, till at last the kirn was cut. the successful reaper was tossed up in the air with three cheers by his brother harvesters. to decorate the room in which the kirn-supper was held at spottiswoode as well as the granary, where the dancing took place, two women made kirn-dollies or queens every year; and many of these rustic effigies of the corn-spirit might be seen hanging up together. in some parts of the highlands of scotland the last handful of corn that is cut by the reapers on any particular farm is called the maiden, or in gaelic _maidhdeanbuain,_ literally, "the shorn maiden." superstitions attach to the winning of the maiden. if it is got by a young person, they think it an omen that he or she will be married before another harvest. for that or other reasons there is a strife between the reapers as to who shall get the maiden, and they resort to various stratagems for the purpose of securing it. one of them, for example, will often leave a handful of corn uncut and cover it up with earth to hide it from the other reapers, till all the rest of the corn on the field is cut down. several may try to play the same trick, and the one who is coolest and holds out longest obtains the coveted distinction. when it has been cut, the maiden is dressed with ribbons into a sort of doll and affixed to a wall of the farmhouse. in the north of scotland the maiden is carefully preserved till yule morning, when it is divided among the cattle "to make them thrive all the year round." in the neighbourhood of balquhidder, perthshire, the last handful of corn is cut by the youngest girl on the field, and is made into the rude form of a female doll, clad in a paper dress, and decked with ribbons. it is called the maiden, and is kept in the farmhouse, generally above the chimney, for a good while, sometimes till the maiden of the next year is brought in. the writer of this book witnessed the ceremony of cutting the maiden at balquhidder in september . a lady friend informed me that as a young girl she cut the maiden several times at the request of the reapers in the neighbourhood of perth. the name of the maiden was given to the last handful of standing corn; a reaper held the top of the bunch while she cut it. afterwards the bunch was plaited, decked with ribbons, and hung up in a conspicuous place on the wall of the kitchen till the next maiden was brought in. the harvest-supper in this neighbourhood was also called the maiden; the reapers danced at it. on some farms on the gareloch, in dumbartonshire, about the year , the last handful of standing corn was called the maiden. it was divided in two, plaited, and then cut with the sickle by a girl, who, it was thought, would be lucky and would soon be married. when it was cut the reapers gathered together and threw their sickles in the air. the maiden was dressed with ribbons and hung in the kitchen near the roof, where it was kept for several years with the date attached. sometimes five or six maidens might be seen hanging at once on hooks. the harvest-supper was called the kirn. in other farms on the gareloch the last handful of corn was called the maidenhead or the head; it was neatly plaited, sometimes decked with ribbons, and hung in the kitchen for a year, when the grain was given to the poultry. in aberdeenshire "the last sheaf cut, or 'maiden,' is carried home in merry procession by the harvesters. it is then presented to the mistress of the house, who dresses it up to be preserved till the first mare foals. the maiden is then taken down and presented to the mare as its first food. the neglect of this would have untoward effects upon the foal, and disastrous consequences upon farm operations generally for the season." in the north-east of aberdeenshire the last sheaf is commonly called the _clyack_ sheaf. it used to be cut by the youngest girl present and was dressed as a woman. being brought home in triumph, it was kept till christmas morning, and then given to a mare in foal, if there was one on the farm, or, if there was not, to the oldest cow in calf. elsewhere the sheaf was divided between all the cows and their calves or between all the horses and the cattle of the farm. in fifeshire the last handful of corn, known as the maiden, is cut by a young girl and made into the rude figure of a doll, tied with ribbons, by which it is hung on the wall of the farm-kitchen till the next spring. the custom of cutting the maiden at harvest was also observed in inverness-shire and sutherlandshire. a somewhat maturer but still youthful age is assigned to the corn-spirit by the appellations of bride, oats-bride, and wheat-bride, which in germany are sometimes bestowed both on the last sheaf and on the woman who binds it. at wheat-harvest near müglitz, in moravia, a small portion of the wheat is left standing after all the rest has been reaped. this remnant is then cut, amid the rejoicing of the reapers, by a young girl who wears a wreath of wheaten ears on her head and goes by the name of the wheat-bride. it is supposed that she will be a real bride that same year. near roslin and stonehaven, in scotland, the last handful of corn cut "got the name of 'the bride,' and she was placed over the _bress_ or chimney-piece; she had a ribbon tied below her numerous _ears,_ and another round her waist." sometimes the idea implied by the name of bride is worked out more fully by representing the productive powers of vegetation as bride and bridegroom. thus in the vorharz an oats-man and an oats-woman, swathed in straw, dance at the harvest feast. in south saxony an oats-bridegroom and an oats-bride figure together at the harvest celebration. the oats-bridegroom is a man completely wrapt in oats-straw; the oats-bride is a man dressed in woman's clothes, but not wrapt in straw. they are drawn in a waggon to the ale-house, where the dance takes place. at the beginning of the dance the dancers pluck the bunches of oats one by one from the oats-bridegroom, while he struggles to keep them, till at last he is completely stript of them and stands bare, exposed to the laughter and jests of the company. in austrian silesia the ceremony of "the wheat-bride" is celebrated by the young people at the end of the harvest. the woman who bound the last sheaf plays the part of the wheat-bride, wearing the harvest-crown of wheat ears and flowers on her head. thus adorned, standing beside her bridegroom in a waggon and attended by bridesmaids, she is drawn by a pair of oxen, in full imitation of a marriage procession, to the tavern, where the dancing is kept up till morning. somewhat later in the season the wedding of the oats-bride is celebrated with the like rustic pomp. about neisse, in silesia, an oats-king and an oats-queen, dressed up quaintly as a bridal pair, are seated on a harrow and drawn by oxen into the village. in these last instances the corn-spirit is personified in double form as male and female. but sometimes the spirit appears in a double female form as both old and young, corresponding exactly to the greek demeter and persephone, if my interpretation of these goddesses is right. we have seen that in scotland, especially among the gaelic-speaking population, the last corn cut is sometimes called the old wife and sometimes the maiden. now there are parts of scotland in which both an old wife (_cailleach_) and a maiden are cut at harvest. the accounts of this custom are not quite clear and consistent, but the general rule seems to be that, where both a maiden and an old wife (_cailleach_) are fashioned out of the reaped corn at harvest, the maiden is made out of the last stalks left standing, and is kept by the farmer on whose land it was cut; while the old wife is made out of other stalks, sometimes out of the first stalks cut, and is regularly passed on to a laggard farmer who happens to be still reaping after his brisker neighbour has cut all his corn. thus while each farmer keeps his own maiden, as the embodiment of the young and fruitful spirit of the corn, he passes on the old wife as soon as he can to a neighbour, and so the old lady may make the round of all the farms in the district before she finds a place in which to lay her venerable head. the farmer with whom she finally takes up her abode is of course the one who has been the last of all the countryside to finish reaping his crops, and thus the distinction of entertaining her is rather an invidious one. he is thought to be doomed to poverty or to be under the obligation of "providing for the dearth of the township" in the ensuing season. similarly we saw that in pembrokeshire, where the last corn cut is called, not the maiden, but the hag, she is passed on hastily to a neighbour who is still at work in his fields and who receives his aged visitor with anything but a transport of joy. if the old wife represents the corn-spirit of the past year, as she probably does wherever she is contrasted with and opposed to a maiden, it is natural enough that her faded charms should have less attractions for the husbandman than the buxom form of her daughter, who may be expected to become in her turn the mother of the golden grain when the revolving year has brought round another autumn. the same desire to get rid of the effete mother of the corn by palming her off on other people comes out clearly in some of the customs observed at the close of threshing, particularly in the practice of passing on a hideous straw puppet to a neighbour farmer who is still threshing his corn. the harvest customs just described are strikingly analogous to the spring customs which we reviewed in an earlier part of this work. ( ) as in the spring customs the tree-spirit is represented both by a tree and by a person, so in the harvest customs the corn-spirit is represented both by the last sheaf and by the person who cuts or binds or threshes it. the equivalence of the person to the sheaf is shown by giving him or her the same name as the sheaf; by wrapping him or her in it; and by the rule observed in some places, that when the sheaf is called the mother, it must be made up into human shape by the oldest married woman, but that when it is called the maiden, it must be cut by the youngest girl. here the age of the personal representative of the corn-spirit corresponds with that of the supposed age of the corn-spirit, just as the human victims offered by the mexicans to promote the growth of the maize varied with the age of the maize. for in the mexican, as in the european, custom the human beings were probably representatives of the corn-spirit rather than victims offered to it. ( ) again the same fertilising influence which the tree-spirit is supposed to exert over vegetation, cattle, and even women is ascribed to the corn-spirit. thus, its supposed influence on vegetation is shown by the practice of taking some of the grain of the last sheaf (in which the corn-spirit is regularly supposed to be present), and scattering it among the young corn in spring or mixing it with the seed-corn. its influence on animals is shown by giving the last sheaf to a mare in foal, to a cow in calf, and to horses at the first ploughing. lastly, its influence on women is indicated by the custom of delivering the mother-sheaf, made into the likeness of a pregnant woman, to the farmer's wife; by the belief that the woman who binds the last sheaf will have a child next year; perhaps, too, by the idea that the person who gets it will soon be married. plainly, therefore, these spring and harvest customs are based on the same ancient modes of thought, and form parts of the same primitive heathendom, which was doubtless practised by our forefathers long before the dawn of history. amongst the marks of a primitive ritual we may note the following: . no special class of persons is set apart for the performance of the rites; in other words, there are no priests. the rites may be performed by any one, as occasion demands. . no special places are set apart for the performance of the rites; in other words, there are no temples. the rites may be performed anywhere, as occasion demands. . spirits, not gods, are recognised. (_a_) as distinguished from gods, spirits are restricted in their operations to definite departments of nature. their names are general, not proper. their attributes are generic, rather than individual; in other words, there is an indefinite number of spirits of each class, and the individuals of a class are all much alike; they have no definitely marked individuality; no accepted traditions are current as to their origin, life, adventures, and character. (_b_) on the other hand gods, as distinguished from spirits, are not restricted to definite departments of nature. it is true that there is generally some one department over which they preside as their special province; but they are not rigorously confined to it; they can exert their power for good or evil in many other spheres of nature and life. again, they bear individual or proper names, such as demeter, persephone, dionysus; and their individual characters and histories are fixed by current myths and the representations of art. . the rites are magical rather than propitiatory. in other words, the desired objects are attained, not by propitiating the favour of divine beings through sacrifice, prayer, and praise, but by ceremonies which, as i have already explained, are believed to influence the course of nature directly through a physical sympathy or resemblance between the rite and the effect which it is the intention of the rite to produce. judged by these tests, the spring and harvest customs of our european peasantry deserve to rank as primitive. for no special class of persons and no special places are set exclusively apart for their performance; they may be performed by any one, master or man, mistress or maid, boy or girl; they are practised, not in temples or churches, but in the woods and meadows, beside brooks, in barns, on harvest fields and cottage floors. the supernatural beings whose existence is taken for granted in them are spirits rather than deities: their functions are limited to certain well-defined departments of nature: their names are general like the barley-mother, the old woman, the maiden, not proper names like demeter, persephone, dionysus. their generic attributes are known, but their individual histories and characters are not the subject of myths. for they exist in classes rather than as individuals, and the members of each class are indistinguishable. for example, every farm has its corn-mother, or its old woman, or its maiden; but every corn-mother is much like every other corn-mother, and so with the old women and maidens. lastly, in these harvests, as in the spring customs, the ritual is magical rather than propitiatory. this is shown by throwing the corn-mother into the river in order to secure rain and dew for the crops; by making the old woman heavy in order to get a heavy crop next year; by strewing grain from the last sheaf amongst the young crops in spring; and by giving the last sheaf to the cattle to make them thrive. xlvi. the corn-mother in many lands . the corn-mother in america european peoples, ancient and modern, have not been singular in personifying the corn as a mother goddess. the same simple idea has suggested itself to other agricultural races in distant parts of the world, and has been applied by them to other indigenous cereals than barley and wheat. if europe has its wheat-mother and its barley-mother, america has its maize-mother and the east indies their rice-mother. these personifications i will now illustrate, beginning with the american personification of the maize. we have seen that among european peoples it is a common custom to keep the plaited corn-stalks of the last sheaf, or the puppet which is formed out of them, in the farm-house from harvest to harvest. the intention no doubt is, or rather originally was, by preserving the representative of the corn-spirit to maintain the spirit itself in life and activity throughout the year, in order that the corn may grow and the crops be good. this interpretation of the custom is at all events rendered highly probable by a similar custom observed by the ancient peruvians, and thus described by the old spanish historian acosta: "they take a certain portion of the most fruitful of the maize that grows in their farms, the which they put in a certain granary which they do call _pirua,_ with certain ceremonies, watching three nights; they put this maize in the richest garments they have, and being thus wrapped and dressed, they worship this _pirua,_ and hold it in great veneration, saying it is the mother of the maize of their inheritances, and that by this means the maize augments and is preserved. in this month [the sixth month, answering to may] they make a particular sacrifice, and the witches demand of this _pirua_ if it hath strength sufficient to continue until the next year; and if it answers no, then they carry this maize to the farm to burn, whence they brought it, according to every man's power; then they make another _pirua,_ with the same ceremonies, saying that they renew it, to the end the seed of maize may not perish, and if it answers that it hath force sufficient to last longer, they leave it until the next year. this foolish vanity continueth to this day, and it is very common amongst the indians to have these _piruas._" in this description of the custom there seems to be some error. probably it was the dressed-up bunch of maize, not the granary (_pirua_), which was worshipped by the peruvians and regarded as the mother of the maize. this is confirmed by what we know of the peruvian custom from another source. the peruvians, we are told, believed all useful plants to be animated by a divine being who causes their growth. according to the particular plant, these divine beings were called the maize-mother (_zara-mama_), the quinoa-mother (_quinoa-mama_), the coca-mother (_coca-mama_), and the potato-mother (_axo-mama_). figures of these divine mothers were made respectively of ears of maize and leaves of the quinoa and coca plants; they were dressed in women's clothes and worshipped. thus the maize-mother was represented by a puppet made of stalks of maize dressed in full female attire; and the indians believed that "as mother, it had the power of producing and giving birth to much maize." probably, therefore, acosta misunderstood his informant, and the mother of the maize which he describes was not the granary (_pirua_), but the bunch of maize dressed in rich vestments. the peruvian mother of the maize, like the harvest-maiden at balquhidder, was kept for a year in order that by her means the corn might grow and multiply. but lest her strength might not suffice to last till the next harvest, she was asked in the course of the year how she felt, and if she answered that she felt weak, she was burned and a fresh mother of the maize made, "to the end the seed of maize may not perish." here, it may be observed, we have a strong confirmation of the explanation already given of the custom of killing the god, both periodically and occasionally. the mother of the maize was allowed, as a rule, to live through a year, that being the period during which her strength might reasonably be supposed to last unimpaired; but on any symptom of her strength failing she was put to death, and a fresh and vigorous mother of the maize took her place, lest the maize which depended on her for its existence should languish and decay. . the rice-mother in the east indies if the reader still feels any doubts as to the meaning of the harvest customs which have been practised within living memory by european peasants, these doubts may perhaps be dispelled by comparing the customs observed at the rice-harvest by the malays and dyaks of the east indies. for these eastern peoples have not, like our peasantry, advanced beyond the intellectual stage at which the customs originated; their theory and their practice are still in unison; for them the quaint rites which in europe have long dwindled into mere fossils, the pastime of clowns and the puzzle of the learned, are still living realities of which they can render an intelligible and truthful account. hence a study of their beliefs and usages concerning the rice may throw some light on the true meaning of the ritual of the corn in ancient greece and modern europe. now the whole of the ritual which the malays and dyaks observe in connexion with the rice is founded on the simple conception of the rice as animated by a soul like that which these people attribute to mankind. they explain the phenomena of reproduction, growth, decay, and death in the rice on the same principles on which they explain the corresponding phenomena in human beings. they imagine that in the fibres of the plant, as in the body of a man, there is a certain vital element, which is so far independent of the plant that it may for a time be completely separated from it without fatal effects, though if its absence be prolonged beyond certain limits the plant will wither and die. this vital yet separable element is what, for the want of a better word, we must call the soul of a plant, just as a similar vital and separable element is commonly supposed to constitute the soul of man; and on this theory or myth of the plant-soul is built the whole worship of the cereals, just as on the theory or myth of the human soul is built the whole worship of the dead,--a towering superstructure reared on a slender and precarious foundation. believing the rice to be animated by a soul like that of a man, the indonesians naturally treat it with the deference and the consideration which they show to their fellows. thus they behave towards the rice in bloom as they behave towards a pregnant woman; they abstain from firing guns or making loud noises in the field, lest they should so frighten the soul of the rice that it would miscarry and bear no grain; and for the same reason they will not talk of corpses or demons in the rice-fields. moreover, they feed the blooming rice with foods of various kinds which are believed to be wholesome for women with child; but when the rice-ears are just beginning to form, they are looked upon as infants, and women go through the fields feeding them with rice-pap as if they were human babes. in such natural and obvious comparisons of the breeding plant to a breeding woman, and of the young grain to a young child, is to be sought the origin of the kindred greek conception of the corn-mother and the corn-daughter, demeter and persephone. but if the timorous feminine soul of the rice can be frightened into a miscarriage even by loud noises, it is easy to imagine what her feelings must be at harvest, when people are under the sad necessity of cutting down the rice with the knife. at so critical a season every precaution must be used to render the necessary surgical operation of reaping as inconspicuous and as painless as possible. for that reason the reaping of the seed-rice is done with knives of a peculiar pattern, such that the blades are hidden in the reapers' hands and do not frighten the rice-spirit till the very last moment, when her head is swept off almost before she is aware; and from a like delicate motive the reapers at work in the fields employ a special form of speech, which the rice-spirit cannot be expected to understand, so that she has no warning or inkling of what is going forward till the heads of rice are safely deposited in the basket. among the indonesian peoples who thus personify the rice we may take the kayans or bahaus of central borneo as typical. in order to secure and detain the volatile soul of the rice the kayans resort to a number of devices. among the instruments employed for this purpose are a miniature ladder, a spatula, and a basket containing hooks, thorns, and cords. with the spatula the priestess strokes the soul of the rice down the little ladder into the basket, where it is naturally held fast by the hooks, the thorn, and the cord; and having thus captured and imprisoned the soul she conveys it into the rice-granary. sometimes a bamboo box and a net are used for the same purpose. and in order to ensure a good harvest for the following year it is necessary not only to detain the soul of all the grains of rice which are safely stored in the granary, but also to attract and recover the soul of all the rice that has been lost through falling to the earth or being eaten by deer, apes, and pigs. for this purpose instruments of various sorts have been invented by the priests. one, for example, is a bamboo vessel provided with four hooks made from the wood of a fruit-tree, by means of which the absent rice-soul may be hooked and drawn back into the vessel, which is then hung up in the house. sometimes two hands carved out of the wood of a fruit-tree are used for the same purpose. and every time that a kayan housewife fetches rice from the granary for the use of her household, she must propitiate the souls of the rice in the granary, lest they should be angry at being robbed of their substance. the same need of securing the soul of the rice, if the crop is to thrive, is keenly felt by the karens of burma. when a rice-field does not flourish, they suppose that the soul (_kelah_) of the rice is in some way detained from the rice. if the soul cannot be called back, the crop will fail. the following formula is used in recalling the _kelah_ (soul) of the rice: "o come, rice-_kelah,_ come! come to the field. come to the rice. with seed of each gender, come. come from the river kho, come from the river kaw; from the place where they meet, come. come from the west, come from the east. from the throat of the bird, from the maw of the ape, from the throat of the elephant. come from the sources of rivers and their mouths. come from the country of the shan and burman. from the distant kingdoms come. from all granaries come. o rice-_kelah,_ come to the rice." the corn-mother of our european peasants has her match in the rice-mother of the minangkabauers of sumatra. the minangkabauers definitely attribute a soul to rice, and will sometimes assert that rice pounded in the usual way tastes better than rice ground in a mill, because in the mill the body of the rice was so bruised and battered that the soul has fled from it. like the javanese they think that the rice is under the special guardianship of a female spirit called saning sari, who is conceived as so closely knit up with the plant that the rice often goes by her name, as with the romans the corn might be called ceres. in particular saning sari is represented by certain stalks or grains called _indoea padi,_ that is, literally, "mother of rice," a name that is often given to the guardian spirit herself. this so-called mother of rice is the occasion of a number of ceremonies observed at the planting and harvesting of the rice as well as during its preservation in the barn. when the seed of the rice is about to be sown in the nursery or bedding-out ground, where under the wet system of cultivation it is regularly allowed to sprout before being transplanted to the fields, the best grains are picked out to form the rice-mother. these are then sown in the middle of the bed, and the common seed is planted round about them. the state of the rice-mother is supposed to exert the greatest influence on the growth of the rice; if she droops or pines away, the harvest will be bad in consequence. the woman who sows the rice-mother in the nursery lets her hair hang loose and afterwards bathes, as a means of ensuring an abundant harvest. when the time comes to transplant the rice from the nursery to the field, the rice-mother receives a special place either in the middle or in a corner of the field, and a prayer or charm is uttered as follows: "saning sari, may a measure of rice come from a stalk of rice and a basketful from a root; may you be frightened neither by lightning nor by passers-by! sunshine make you glad; with the storm may you be at peace; and may rain serve to wash your face!" while the rice is growing, the particular plant which was thus treated as the rice-mother is lost sight of; but before harvest another rice-mother is found. when the crop is ripe for cutting, the oldest woman of the family or a sorcerer goes out to look for her. the first stalks seen to bend under a passing breeze are the rice-mother, and they are tied together but not cut until the first-fruits of the field have been carried home to serve as a festal meal for the family and their friends, nay even for the domestic animals; since it is saning sari's pleasure that the beasts also should partake of her good gifts. after the meal has been eaten, the rice-mother is fetched home by persons in gay attire, who carry her very carefully under an umbrella in a neatly worked bag to the barn, where a place in the middle is assigned to her. every one believes that she takes care of the rice in the barn and even multiplies it not uncommonly. when the tomori of central celebes are about to plant the rice, they bury in the field some betel as an offering to the spirits who cause the rice to grow. the rice that is planted round this spot is the last to be reaped at harvest. at the commencement of the reaping the stalks of this patch of rice are tied together into a sheaf, which is called "the mother of the rice" (_ineno pae_), and offerings in the shape of rice, fowl's liver, eggs, and other things are laid down before it. when all the rest of the rice in the field has been reaped, "the mother of the rice" is cut down and carried with due honour to the rice-barn, where it is laid on the floor, and all the other sheaves are piled upon it. the tomori, we are told, regard the mother of the rice as a special offering made to the rice-spirit omonga, who dwells in the moon. if that spirit is not treated with proper respect, for example if the people who fetch rice from the barn are not decently clad, he is angry and punishes the offenders by eating up twice as much rice in the barn as they have taken out of it; some people have heard him smacking his lips in the barn, as he devoured the rice. on the other hand the toradjas of central celebes, who also practice the custom of the rice-mother at harvest, regard her as the actual mother of the whole harvest, and therefore keep her carefully, lest in her absence the garnered store of rice should all melt away and disappear. again, just as in scotland the old and the young spirit of the corn are represented as an old wife (_cailleach_) and a maiden respectively, so in the malay peninsula we find both the rice-mother and her child represented by different sheaves or bundles of ears on the harvest-field. the ceremony of cutting and bringing home the soul of the rice was witnessed by mr. w. w. skeat at chodoi in selangor on the twenty-eighth of january . the particular bunch or sheaf which was to serve as the mother of the rice-soul had previously been sought and identified by means of the markings or shape of the ears. from this sheaf an aged sorceress, with much solemnity, cut a little bundle of seven ears, anointed them with oil, tied them round with parti-coloured thread, fumigated them with incense, and having wrapt them in a white cloth deposited them in a little oval-shaped basket. these seven ears were the infant soul of the rice and the little basket was its cradle. it was carried home to the farmer's house by another woman, who held up an umbrella to screen the tender infant from the hot rays of the sun. arrived at the house the rice-child was welcomed by the women of the family, and laid, cradle and all, on a new sleepingmat with pillows at the head. after that the farmer's wife was instructed to observe certain rules of taboo for three days, the rules being in many respects identical with those which have to be observed for three days after the birth of a real child. something of the same tender care which is thus bestowed on the newly-born rice-child is naturally extended also to its parent, the sheaf from whose body it was taken. this sheaf, which remains standing in the field after the rice-soul has been carried home and put to bed, is treated as a newly-made mother; that is to say, young shoots of trees are pounded together and scattered broadcast every evening for three successive days, and when the three days are up you take the pulp of a coco-nut and what are called "goat-flowers," mix them up, eat them with a little sugar, and spit some of the mixture out among the rice. so after a real birth the young shoots of the jack-fruit, the rose-apple, certain kinds of banana, and the thin pulp of young coco-nuts are mixed with dried fish, salt, acid, prawn-condiment, and the like dainties to form a sort of salad, which is administered to mother and child for three successive days. the last sheaf is reaped by the farmer's wife, who carries it back to the house, where it is threshed and mixed with the rice-soul. the farmer then takes the rice-soul and its basket and deposits it, together with the product of the last sheaf, in the big circular rice-bin used by the malays. some grains from the rice-soul are mixed with the seed which is to be sown in the following year. in this rice-mother and rice-child of the malay peninsula we may see the counterpart and in a sense the prototype of the demeter and persephone of ancient greece. once more, the european custom of representing the corn-spirit in the double form of bride and bridegroom has its parallel in a ceremony observed at the rice-harvest in java. before the reapers begin to cut the rice, the priest or sorcerer picks out a number of ears of rice, which are tied together, smeared with ointment, and adorned with flowers. thus decked out, the ears are called the _padi-peengantèn,_ that is, the rice-bride and the rice-bridegroom; their wedding feast is celebrated, and the cutting of the rice begins immediately afterwards. later on, when the rice is being got in, a bridal chamber is partitioned off in the barn, and furnished with a new mat, a lamp, and all kinds of toilet articles. sheaves of rice, to represent the wedding guests, are placed beside the rice-bride and the rice-bridegroom. not till this has been done may the whole harvest be housed in the barn. and for the first forty days after the rice has been housed, no one may enter the barn, for fear of disturbing the newly-wedded pair. in the islands of bali and lombok, when the time of harvest has come, the owner of the field himself makes a beginning by cutting "the principal rice" with his own hands and binding it into two sheaves, each composed of one hundred and eight stalks with their leaves attached to them. one of the sheaves represents a man and the other a woman, and they are called "husband and wife." the male sheaf is wound about with thread so that none of the leaves are visible, whereas the female sheaf has its leaves bent over and tied so as to resemble the roll of a woman's hair. sometimes, for further distinction, a necklace of rice-straw is tied round the female sheaf. when the rice is brought home from the field, the two sheaves representing the husband and wife are carried by a woman on her head, and are the last of all to be deposited in the barn. there they are laid to rest on a small erection or on a cushion of rice-straw. the whole arrangement, we are informed, has for its object to induce the rice to increase and multiply in the granary, so that the owner may get more out of it than he put in. hence when the people of bali bring the two sheaves, the husband and wife, into the barn, they say, "increase ye and multiply without ceasing." when all the rice in the barn has been used up, the two sheaves representing the husband and wife remain in the empty building till they have gradually disappeared or been devoured by mice. the pinch of hunger sometimes drives individuals to eat up the rice of these two sheaves, but the wretches who do so are viewed with disgust by their fellows and branded as pigs and dogs. nobody would ever sell these holy sheaves with the rest of their profane brethren. the same notion of the propagation of the rice by a male and female power finds expression amongst the szis of upper burma. when the paddy, that is, the rice with the husks still on it, has been dried and piled in a heap for threshing, all the friends of the household are invited to the threshing-floor, and food and drink are brought out. the heap of paddy is divided and one half spread out for threshing, while the other half is left piled up. on the pile food and spirits are set, and one of the elders, addressing "the father and mother of the paddy-plant," prays for plenteous harvests in future, and begs that the seed may bear many fold. then the whole party eat, drink, and make merry. this ceremony at the threshing-floor is the only occasion when these people invoke "the father and mother of the paddy." . the spirit of the corn embodied in human beings thus the theory which recognises in the european corn-mother, corn-maiden, and so forth, the embodiment in vegetable form of the animating spirit of the crops is amply confirmed by the evidence of peoples in other parts of the world, who, because they have lagged behind the european races in mental development, retain for that very reason a keener sense of the original motives for observing those rustic rites which among ourselves have sunk to the level of meaningless survivals. the reader may, however, remember that according to mannhardt, whose theory i am expounding, the spirit of the corn manifests itself not merely in vegetable but also in human form; the person who cuts the last sheaf or gives the last stroke at threshing passes for a temporary embodiment of the corn-spirit, just as much as the bunch of corn which he reaps or threshes. now in the parallels which have been hitherto adduced from the customs of peoples outside europe the spirit of the crops appears only in vegetable form. it remains, therefore, to prove that other races besides our european peasantry have conceived the spirit of the crops as incorporate in or represented by living men and women. such a proof, i may remind the reader, is germane to the theme of this book; for the more instances we discover of human beings representing in themselves the life or animating spirit of plants, the less difficulty will be felt at classing amongst them the king of the wood at nemi. the mandans and minnitarees of north america used to hold a festival in spring which they called the corn-medicine festival of the women. they thought that a certain old woman who never dies made the crops to grow, and that, living somewhere in the south, she sent the migratory waterfowl in spring as her tokens and representatives. each sort of bird represented a special kind of crop cultivated by the indians: the wild goose stood for the maize, the wild swan for the gourds, and the wild duck for the beans. so when the feathered messengers of the old woman began to arrive in spring the indians celebrated the corn-medicine festival of the women. scaffolds were set up, on which the people hung dried meat and other things by way of offerings to the old woman; and on a certain day the old women of the tribe, as representatives of the old woman who never dies, assembled at the scaffolds each bearing in her hand an ear of maize fastened to a stick. they first planted these sticks in the ground, then danced round the scaffolds, and finally took up the sticks again in their arms. meanwhile old men beat drums and shook rattles as a musical accompaniment to the performance of the old women. further, young women came and put dried flesh into the mouths of the old women, for which they received in return a grain of the consecrated maize to eat. three or four grains of the holy corn were also placed in the dishes of the young women, to be afterwards carefully mixed with the seed-corn, which they were supposed to fertilise. the dried flesh hung on the scaffold belonged to the old women, because they represented the old woman who never dies. a similar corn-medicine festival was held in autumn for the purpose of attracting the herds of buffaloes and securing a supply of meat. at that time every woman carried in her arms an uprooted plant of maize. they gave the name of the old woman who never dies both to the maize and to those birds which they regarded as symbols of the fruits of the earth, and they prayed to them in autumn saying, "mother, have pity on us! send us not the bitter cold too soon, lest we have not meat enough! let not all the game depart, that we may have something for the winter!" in autumn, when the birds were flying south, the indians thought that they were going home to the old woman and taking to her the offerings that had been hung up on the scaffolds, especially the dried meat, which she ate. here then we have the spirit or divinity of the corn conceived as an old woman and represented in bodily form by old women, who in their capacity of representatives receive some at least of the offerings which are intended for her. in some parts of india the harvest-goddess gauri is represented at once by an unmarried girl and by a bundle of wild balsam plants, which is made up into the figure of a woman and dressed as such with mask, garments, and ornaments. both the human and the vegetable representative of the goddess are worshipped, and the intention of the whole ceremony appears to be to ensure a good crop of rice. . the double personification of the corn as mother and daughter compared with the corn-mother of germany and the harvest-maiden of scotland, the demeter and persephone of greece are late products of religious growth. yet as members of the aryan family the greeks must at one time or another have observed harvest customs like those which are still practised by celts, teutons, and slavs, and which, far beyond the limits of the aryan world, have been practised by the indians of peru and many peoples of the east indies--a sufficient proof that the ideas on which these customs rest are not confined to any one race, but naturally suggest themselves to all untutored peoples engaged in agriculture. it is probable, therefore, that demeter and persephone, those stately and beautiful figures of greek mythology, grew out of the same simple beliefs and practices which still prevail among our modern peasantry, and that they were represented by rude dolls made out of the yellow sheaves on many a harvest-field long before their breathing images were wrought in bronze and marble by the master hands of phidias and praxiteles. a reminiscence of that olden time--a scent, so to say, of the harvest-field--lingered to the last in the title of the maiden (_kore_) by which persephone was commonly known. thus if the prototype of demeter is the corn-mother of germany, the prototype of persephone is the harvest-maiden which, autumn after autumn, is still made from the last sheaf on the braes of balquhidder. indeed, if we knew more about the peasant-farmers of ancient greece, we should probably find that even in classical times they continued annually to fashion their corn-mothers (demeters) and maidens (persephones) out of the ripe corn on the harvest-fields. but unfortunately the demeter and persephone whom we know were the denizens of towns, the majestic inhabitants of lordly temples; it was for such divinities alone that the refined writers of antiquity had eyes; the uncouth rites performed by rustics amongst the corn were beneath their notice. even if they noticed them, they probably never dreamed of any connexion between the puppet of corn-stalks on the sunny stubble-field and the marble divinity in the shady coolness of the temple. still the writings even of these town-bred and cultured persons afford us an occasional glimpse of a demeter as rude as the rudest that a remote german village can show. thus the story that iasion begat a child plutus ( "wealth," "abundance") by demeter on a thrice-ploughed field, may be compared with the west prussian custom of the mock birth of a child on the harvest-field. in this prussian custom the pretended mother represents the corn-mother (zytniamatka_); the pretended child represents the corn-baby, and the whole ceremony is a charm to ensure a crop next year. the custom and the legend alike point to an older practice of performing, among the sprouting crops in spring or the stubble in autumn, one of those real or mimic acts of procreation by which, as we have seen, primitive man often seeks to infuse his own vigorous life into the languid or decaying energies of nature. another glimpse of the savage under the civilised demeter will be afforded farther on, when we come to deal with another aspect of those agricultural divinities. the reader may have observed that in modern folk-customs the corn-spirit is generally represented either by a corn-mother (old woman, etc.) or by a maiden (harvest-child, etc.), not both by a corn-mother and by a maiden. why then did the greeks represent the corn both as a mother and a daughter? in the breton custom the mother-sheaf--a large figure made out of the last sheaf with a small corn-doll inside of it--clearly represents both the corn-mother and the corn-daughter, the latter still unborn. again, in the prussian custom just referred to, the woman who plays the part of corn-mother represents the ripe grain; the child appears to represent next year's corn, which may be regarded, naturally enough, as the child of this year's corn, since it is from the seed of this year's harvest that next year's crop will spring. further, we have seen that among the malays of the peninsula and sometimes among the highlanders of scotland the spirit of the grain is represented in double female form, both as old and young, by means of ears taken alike from the ripe crop: in scotland the old spirit of the corn appears as the carline or _cailleach,_ the young spirit as the maiden; while among the malays of the peninsula the two spirits of the rice are definitely related to each other as mother and child. judged by these analogies demeter would be the ripe crop of this year; persephone would be the seed-corn taken from it and sown in autumn, to reappear in spring. the descent of persephone into the lower world would thus be a mythical expression for the sowing of the seed; her reappearance in spring would signify the sprouting of the young corn. in this way the persephone of one year becomes the demeter of the next, and this may very well have been the original form of the myth. but when with the advance of religious thought the corn came to be personified no longer as a being that went through the whole cycle of birth, growth, reproduction, and death within a year, but as an immortal goddess, consistency required that one of the two personifications, the mother or the daughter, should be sacrificed. however, the double conception of the corn as mother and daughter may have been too old and too deeply rooted in the popular mind to be eradicated by logic, and so room had to be found in the reformed myth both for mother and daughter. this was done by assigning to persephone the character of the corn sown in autumn and sprouting in spring, while demeter was left to play the somewhat vague part of the heavy mother of the corn, who laments its annual disappearance underground, and rejoices over its reappearance in spring. thus instead of a regular succession of divine beings, each living a year and then giving birth to her successor, the reformed myth exhibits the conception of two divine and immortal beings, one of whom annually disappears into and reappears from the ground, while the other has little to do but to weep and rejoice at the appropriate seasons. this theory of the double personification of the corn in greek myth assumes that both personifications (demeter and persephone) are original. but if we suppose that the greek myth started with a single personification, the aftergrowth of a second personification may perhaps be explained as follows. on looking over the harvest customs which have been passed under review, it may be noticed that they involve two distinct conceptions of the corn-spirit. for whereas in some of the customs the corn-spirit is treated as immanent in the corn, in others it is regarded as external to it. thus when a particular sheaf is called by the name of the corn-spirit, and is dressed in clothes and handled with reverence, the spirit is clearly regarded as immanent in the corn. but when the spirit is said to make the crops grow by passing through them, or to blight the grain of those against whom she has a grudge, she is apparently conceived as distinct from, though exercising power over, the corn. conceived in the latter mode the corn-spirit is in a fair way to become a deity of the corn, if she has not become so already. of these two conceptions, that of the cornspirit as immanent in the corn is doubtless the older, since the view of nature as animated by indwelling spirits appears to have generally preceded the view of it as controlled by external deities; to put it shortly, animism precedes deism. in the harvest customs of our european peasantry the corn-spirit seems to be conceived now as immanent in the corn and now as external to it. in greek mythology, on the other hand, demeter is viewed rather as the deity of the corn than as the spirit immanent in it. the process of thought which leads to the change from the one mode of conception to the other is anthropomorphism, or the gradual investment of the immanent spirits with more and more of the attributes of humanity. as men emerge from savagery the tendency to humanise their divinities gains strength; and the more human these become the wider is the breach which severs them from the natural objects of which they were at first merely the animating spirits or souls. but in the progress upwards from savagery men of the same generation do not march abreast; and though the new anthropomorphic gods may satisfy the religious wants of the more developed intelligences, the backward members of the community will cling by preference to the old animistic notions. now when the spirit of any natural object such as the corn has been invested with human qualities, detached from the object, and converted into a deity controlling it, the object itself is, by the withdrawal of its spirit, left inanimate; it becomes, so to say, a spiritual vacuum. but the popular fancy, intolerant of such a vacuum, in other words, unable to conceive anything as inanimate, immediately creates a fresh mythical being, with which it peoples the vacant object. thus the same natural object comes to be represented in mythology by two distinct beings: first by the old spirit now separated from it and raised to the rank of a deity; second, by the new spirit, freshly created by the popular fancy to supply the place vacated by the old spirit on its elevation to a higher sphere. in such cases the problem for mythology is, having got two distinct personifications of the same object, what to do with them? how are their relations to each other to be adjusted, and room found for both in the mythological system? when the old spirit or new deity is conceived as creating or producing the object in question, the problem is easily solved. since the object is believed to be produced by the old spirit, and animated by the new one, the latter, as the soul of the object, must also owe its existence to the former; thus the old spirit will stand to the new one as producer to produced, that is, in mythology, as parent to child, and if both spirits are conceived as female, their relation will be that of mother and daughter. in this way, starting from a single personification of the corn as female, mythic fancy might in time reach a double personification of it as mother and daughter. it would be very rash to affirm that this was the way in which the myth of demeter and persephone actually took shape; but it seems a legitimate conjecture that the reduplication of deities, of which demeter and persephone furnish an example, may sometimes have arisen in the way indicated. for example, among the pairs of deities dealt with in a former part of this work, it has been shown that there are grounds for regarding both isis and her companion god osiris as personifications of the corn. on the hypothesis just suggested, isis would be the old corn-spirit, and osiris would be the newer one, whose relationship to the old spirit was variously explained as that of brother, husband, and son; for of course mythology would always be free to account for the coexistence of the two divinities in more ways than one. it must not, however, be forgotten that this proposed explanation of such pairs of deities as demeter and persephone or isis and osiris is purely conjectural, and is only given for what it is worth. xlvii. lityerses . songs of the corn reapers in the preceding pages an attempt has been made to show that in the corn-mother and harvest-maiden of northern europe we have the prototypes of demeter and persephone. but an essential feature is still wanting to complete the resemblance. a leading incident in the greek myth is the death and resurrection of persephone; it is this incident which, coupled with the nature of the goddess as a deity of vegetation, links the myth with the cults of adonis, attis, osiris, and dionysus; and it is in virtue of this incident that the myth finds a place in our discussion of the dying god. it remains, therefore, to see whether the conception of the annual death and resurrection of a god, which figures so prominently in these great greek and oriental worships, has not also its origin or its analogy in the rustic rites observed by reapers and vine-dressers amongst the corn-shocks and the vines. our general ignorance of the popular superstitions and customs of the ancients has already been confessed. but the obscurity which thus hangs over the first beginnings of ancient religion is fortunately dissipated to some extent in the present case. the worships of osiris, adonis, and attis had their respective seats, as we have seen, in egypt, syria, and phrygia; and in each of these countries certain harvest and vintage customs are known to have been observed, the resemblance of which to each other and to the national rites struck the ancients themselves, and, compared with the harvest customs of modern peasants and barbarians, seems to throw some light on the origin of the rites in question. it has been already mentioned, on the authority of diodorus, that in ancient egypt the reapers were wont to lament over the first sheaf cut, invoking isis as the goddess to whom they owed the discovery of corn. to the plaintive song or cry sung or uttered by egyptian reapers the greeks gave the name of maneros, and explained the name by a story that maneros, the only son of the first egyptian king, invented agriculture, and, dying an untimely death, was thus lamented by the people. it appears, however, that the name maneros is due to a misunderstanding of the formula _maa-ne-hra,_ "come to the house," which has been discovered in various egyptian writings, for example in the dirge of isis in the book of the dead. hence we may suppose that the cry _maa-ne-hra_ was chanted by the reapers over the cut corn as a dirge for the death of the corn-spirit (isis or osiris) and a prayer for its return. as the cry was raised over the first ears reaped, it would seem that the corn-spirit was believed by the egyptians to be present in the first corn cut and to die under the sickle. we have seen that in the malay peninsula and java the first ears of rice are taken to represent either the soul of the rice or the rice-bride and the rice-bridegroom. in parts of russia the first sheaf is treated much in the same way that the last sheaf is treated elsewhere. it is reaped by the mistress herself, taken home and set in the place of honour near the holy pictures; afterwards it is threshed separately, and some of its grain is mixed with the next year's seed-corn. in aberdeenshire, while the last corn cut was generally used to make the _clyack_ sheaf, it was sometimes, though rarely, the first corn cut that was dressed up as a woman and carried home with ceremony. in phoenicia and western asia a plaintive song, like that chanted by the egyptian corn-reapers, was sung at the vintage and probably (to judge by analogy) also at harvest. this phoenician song was called by the greeks linus or ailinus and explained, like maneros, as a lament for the death of a youth named linus. according to one story linus was brought up by a shepherd, but torn to pieces by his dogs. but, like maneros, the name linus or ailinus appears to have originated in a verbal misunderstanding, and to be nothing more than the cry _ai lanu,_ that is "woe to us," which the phoenicians probably uttered in mourning for adonis; at least sappho seems to have regarded adonis and linus as equivalent. in bithynia a like mournful ditty, called bormus or borimus, was chanted by mariandynian reapers. bormus was said to have been a handsome youth, the son of king upias or of a wealthy and distinguished man. one summer day, watching the reapers at work in his fields, he went to fetch them a drink of water and was never heard of more. so the reapers sought for him, calling him in plaintive strains, which they continued to chant at harvest ever afterwards. . killing the corn-spirit in phrygia the corresponding song, sung by harvesters both at reaping and at threshing, was called lityerses. according to one story, lityerses was a bastard son of midas, king of phrygia, and dwelt at celaenae. he used to reap the corn, and had an enormous appetite. when a stranger happened to enter the corn-field or to pass by it, lityerses gave him plenty to eat and drink, then took him to the corn-fields on the banks of the maeander and compelled him to reap along with him. lastly, it was his custom to wrap the stranger in a sheaf, cut off his head with a sickle, and carry away his body, swathed in the corn-stalks. but at last hercules undertook to reap with him, cut off his head with the sickle, and threw his body into the river. as hercules is reported to have slain lityerses in the same way that lityerses slew others, we may infer that lityerses used to throw the bodies of his victims into the river. according to another version of the story, lityerses, a son of midas, was wont to challenge people to a reaping match with him, and if he vanquished them he used to thrash them; but one day he met with a stronger reaper, who slew him. there are some grounds for supposing that in these stories of lityerses we have the description of a phrygian harvest custom in accordance with which certain persons, especially strangers passing the harvest field, were regularly regarded as embodiments of the corn-spirit, and as such were seized by the reapers, wrapt in sheaves, and beheaded, their bodies, bound up in the corn-stalks, being after-wards thrown into water as a rain-charm. the grounds for this supposition are, first, the resemblance of the lityerses story to the harvest customs of european peasantry, and, second, the frequency of human sacrifices offered by savage races to promote the fertility of the fields. we will examine these grounds successively, beginning with the former. in comparing the story with the harvest customs of europe, three points deserve special attention, namely: i. the reaping match and the binding of persons in the sheaves; ii. the killing of the corn-spirit or his representatives; iii. the treatment of visitors to the harvest field or of strangers passing it. i. in regard to the first head, we have seen that in modern europe the person who cuts or binds or threshes the last sheaf is often exposed to rough treatment at the hands of his fellow-labourers. for example, he is bound up in the last sheaf, and, thus encased, is carried or carted about, beaten, drenched with water, thrown on a dunghill, and so forth. or, if he is spared this horse-play, he is at least the subject of ridicule or is thought to be destined to suffer some misfortune in the course of the year. hence the harvesters are naturally reluctant to give the last cut at reaping or the last stroke at threshing or to bind the last sheaf, and towards the close of the work this reluctance produces an emulation among the labourers, each striving to finish his task as fast as possible, in order that he may escape the invidious distinction of being last. for example, in the mittelmark district of prussia, when the rye has been reaped, and the last sheaves are about to be tied up, the binders stand in two rows facing each other, every woman with her sheaf and her straw rope before her. at a given signal they all tie up their sheaves, and the one who is the last to finish is ridiculed by the rest. not only so, but her sheaf is made up into human shape and called the old man, and she must carry it home to the farmyard, where the harvesters dance in a circle round her and it. then they take the old man to the farmer and deliver it to him with the words, "we bring the old man to the master. he may keep him till he gets a new one." after that the old man is set up against a tree, where he remains for a long time, the butt of many jests. at aschbach in bavaria, when the reaping is nearly finished, the reapers say, "now, we will drive out the old man." each of them sets himself to reap a patch of corn as fast as he can; he who cuts the last handful or the last stalk is greeted by the rest with an exulting cry, "you have the old man." sometimes a black mask is fastened on the reaper's face and he is dressed in woman's clothes; or if the reaper is a woman, she is dressed in man's clothes. a dance follows. at the supper the old man gets twice as large a portion of the food as the others. the proceedings are similar at threshing; the person who gives the last stroke is said to have the old man. at the supper given to the threshers he has to eat out of the cream-ladle and to drink a great deal. moreover, he is quizzed and teased in all sorts of ways till he frees himself from further annoyance by treating the others to brandy or beer. these examples illustrate the contests in reaping, threshing, and binding which take place amongst the harvesters, from their unwillingness to suffer the ridicule and discomfort incurred by the one who happens to finish his work last. it will be remembered that the person who is last at reaping, binding, or threshing, is regarded as the representative of the corn-spirit, and this idea is more fully expressed by binding him or her in corn-stalks. the latter custom has been already illustrated, but a few more instances may be added. at kloxin, near stettin, the harvesters call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "you have the old man, and must keep him." as late as the first half of the nineteenth century the custom was to tie up the woman herself in pease-straw, and bring her with music to the farmhouse, where the harvesters danced with her till the pease-straw fell off. in other villages round stettin, when the last harvest-waggon is being loaded, there is a regular race amongst the women, each striving not to be last. for she who places the last sheaf on the waggon is called the old man, and is completely swathed in corn-stalks; she is also decked with flowers, and flowers and a helmet of straw are placed on her head. in solemn procession she carries the harvest-crown to the squire, over whose head she holds it while she utters a string of good wishes. at the dance which follows, the old man has the right to choose his, or rather her, partner; it is an honour to dance with him. at gommern, near magdeburg, the reaper who cuts the last ears of corn is often wrapt up in corn-stalks so completely that it is hard to see whether there is a man in the bundle or not. thus wrapt up he is taken by another stalwart reaper on his back, and carried round the field amidst the joyous cries of the harvesters. at neuhausen, near merseburg, the person who binds the last sheaf is wrapt in ears of oats and saluted as the oatsman, whereupon the others dance round him. at brie, isle de france, the farmer himself is tied up in the _first_ sheaf. at dingelstedt, in the district of erfurt, down to the first half of the nineteenth century it was the custom to tie up a man in the last sheaf. he was called the old man, and was brought home on the last waggon, amid huzzas and music. on reaching the farmyard he was rolled round the barn and drenched with water. at nördlingen in bavaria the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is wrapt in straw and rolled on the threshing-floor. in some parts of oberpfalz, bavaria, he is said to "get the old man," is wrapt in straw, and carried to a neighbour who has not yet finished his threshing. in silesia the woman who binds the last sheaf has to submit to a good deal of horse-play. she is pushed, knocked down, and tied up in the sheaf, after which she is called the corn-puppet (_kornpopel_). "in all these cases the idea is that the spirit of the corn--the old man of vegetation--is driven out of the corn last cut or last threshed, and lives in the barn during the winter. at sowing-time he goes out again to the fields to resume his activity as animating force among the sprouting corn." ii. passing to the second point of comparison between the lityerses story and european harvest customs, we have now to see that in the latter the corn-spirit is often believed to be killed at reaping or threshing. in the romsdal and other parts of norway, when the haymaking is over, the people say that "the old hay-man has been killed." in some parts of bavaria the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is said to have killed the corn-man, the oats-man, or the wheat-man, according to the crop. in the canton of tillot, in lorraine, at threshing the last corn the men keep time with their flails, calling out as they thresh, "we are killing the old woman! we are killing the old woman!" if there is an old woman in the house she is warned to save herself, or she will be struck dead. near ragnit, in lithuania, the last handful of corn is left standing by itself, with the words, "the old woman (_boba_) is sitting in there." then a young reaper whets his scythe and, with a strong sweep, cuts down the handful. it is now said of him that "he has cut off the boba's head"; and he receives a gratuity from the farmer and a jugful of water over his head from the farmer's wife. according to another account, every lithuanian reaper makes haste to finish his task; for the old rye-woman lives in the last stalks, and whoever cuts the last stalks kills the old rye-woman, and by killing her he brings trouble on himself. in wilkischken, in the district of tilsit, the man who cuts the last corn goes by the name of "the killer of the rye-woman." in lithuania, again, the corn-spirit is believed to be killed at threshing as well as at reaping. when only a single pile of corn remains to be threshed, all the threshers suddenly step back a few paces, as if at the word of command. then they fall to work, plying their flails with the utmost rapidity and vehemence, till they come to the last bundle. upon this they fling themselves with almost frantic fury, straining every nerve, and raining blows on it till the word "halt!" rings out sharply from the leader. the man whose flail is the last to fall after the command to stop has been given is immediately surrounded by all the rest, crying out that "he has struck the old rye-woman dead." he has to expiate the deed by treating them to brandy; and, like the man who cuts the last corn, he is known as "the killer of the old rye-woman." sometimes in lithuania the slain corn-spirit was represented by a puppet. thus a female figure was made out of corn-stalks, dressed in clothes, and placed on the threshing-floor, under the heap of corn which was to be threshed last. whoever thereafter gave the last stroke at threshing "struck the old woman dead." we have already met with examples of burning the figure which represents the corn-spirit. in the east riding of yorkshire a custom called "burning the old witch" is observed on the last day of harvest. a small sheaf of corn is burnt on the field in a fire of stubble; peas are parched at the fire and eaten with a liberal allowance of ale; and the lads and lasses romp about the flames and amuse themselves by blackening each other's faces. sometimes, again, the corn-spirit is represented by a man, who lies down under the last corn; it is threshed upon his body, and the people say that "the old man is being beaten to death." we saw that sometimes the farmer's wife is thrust, together with the last sheaf, under the threshing-machine, as if to thresh her, and that afterwards a pretence is made of winnowing her. at volders, in the tyrol, husks of corn are stuck behind the neck of the man who gives the last stroke at threshing, and he is throttled with a straw garland. if he is tall, it is believed that the corn will be tall next year. then he is tied on a bundle and flung into the river. in carinthia, the thresher who gave the last stroke, and the person who untied the last sheaf on the threshing-floor, are bound hand and foot with straw bands, and crowns of straw are placed on their heads. then they are tied, face to face, on a sledge, dragged through the village, and flung into a brook. the custom of throwing the representative of the corn-spirit into a stream, like that of drenching him with water, is, as usual, a rain-charm. iii. thus far the representatives of the corn-spirit have generally been the man or woman who cuts, binds, or threshes the last corn. we now come to the cases in which the corn-spirit is represented either by a stranger passing the harvest-field (as in the lityerses tale), or by a visitor entering it for the first time. all over germany it is customary for the reapers or threshers to lay hold of passing strangers and bind them with a rope made of corn-stalks, till they pay a forfeit; and when the farmer himself or one of his guests enters the field or the threshing-floor for the first time, he is treated in the same way. sometimes the rope is only tied round his arm or his feet or his neck. but sometimes he is regularly swathed in corn. thus at solör in norway, whoever enters the field, be he the master or a stranger, is tied up in a sheaf and must pay a ransom. in the neighbourhood of soest, when the farmer visits the flax-pullers for the first time, he is completely enveloped in flax. passers-by are also surrounded by the women, tied up in flax, and compelled to stand brandy. at nördlingen strangers are caught with straw ropes and tied up in a sheaf till they pay a forfeit. among the germans of haselberg, in west bohemia, as soon as a farmer had given the last corn to be threshed on the threshing-floor, he was swathed in it and had to redeem himself by a present of cakes. in the canton of putanges, in normandy, a pretence of tying up the owner of the land in the last sheaf of wheat is still practised, or at least was still practised some quarter of a century ago. the task falls to the women alone. they throw themselves on the proprietor, seize him by the arms, the legs, and the body, throw him to the ground, and stretch him on the last sheaf. then a show is made of binding him, and the conditions to be observed at the harvest-supper are dictated to him. when he has accepted them, he is released and allowed to get up. at brie, isle de france, when any one who does not belong to the farm passes by the harvest-field, the reapers give chase. if they catch him, they bind him in a sheaf an dbite him, one after the other, in the forehead, crying, "you shall carry the key of the field." "to have the key" is an expression used by harvesters elsewhere in the sense of to cut or bind or thresh the last sheaf; hence, it is equivalent to the phrases "you have the old man," "you are the old man," which are addressed to the cutter, binder, or thresher of the last sheaf. therefore, when a stranger, as at brie, is tied up in a sheaf and told that he will "carry the key of the field," it is as much as to say that he is the old man, that is, an embodiment of the corn-spirit. in hop-picking, if a well-dressed stranger passes the hop-yard, he is seized by the women, tumbled into the bin, covered with leaves, and not released till he has paid a fine. thus, like the ancient lityerses, modern european reapers have been wont to lay hold of a passing stranger and tie him up in a sheaf. it is not to be expected that they should complete the parallel by cutting off his head; but if they do not take such a strong step, their language and gestures are at least indicative of a desire to do so. for instance, in mecklenburg on the first day of reaping, if the master or mistress or a stranger enters the field, or merely passes by it, all the mowers face towards him and sharpen their scythes, clashing their whet-stones against them in unison, as if they were making ready to mow. then the woman who leads the mowers steps up to him and ties a band round his left arm. he must ransom himself by payment of a forfeit. near ratzeburg, when the master or other person of mark enters the field or passes by it, all the harvesters stop work and march towards him in a body, the men with their scythes in front. on meeting him they form up in line, men and women. the men stick the poles of their scythes in the ground, as they do in whetting them; then they take off their caps and hang them on the scythes, while their leader stands forward and makes a speech. when he has done, they all whet their scythes in measured time very loudly, after which they put on their caps. two of the women binders then come forward; one of them ties the master or stranger (as the case may be) with corn-ears or with a silken band; the other delivers a rhyming address. the following are specimens of the speeches made by the reaper on these occasions. in some parts of pomerania every passer-by is stopped, his way being barred with a corn-rope. the reapers form a circle round him and sharpen their scythes, while their leader says: "the men are ready, the scythes are bent, the corn is great and small, the gentleman must be mowed." then the process of whetting the scythes is repeated. at ramin, in the district of stettin, the stranger, standing encircled by the reapers, is thus addressed: "we'll stroke the gentleman with our naked sword, wherewith we shear meadows and fields. we shear princes and lords. labourers are often athirst; if the gentleman will stand beer and brandy the joke will soon be over. but, if our prayer he does not like, the sword has a right to strike." on the threshing-floor strangers are also regarded as embodiments of the corn-spirit, and are treated accordingly. at wiedingharde in schleswig when a stranger comes to the threshing-floor he is asked, "shall i teach you the flail-dance?" if he says yes, they put the arms of the threshing-flail round his neck as if he were a sheaf of corn, and press them together so tight that he is nearly choked. in some parishes of wermland (sweden), when a stranger enters the threshing-floor where the threshers are at work, they say that "they will teach him the threshing-song." then they put a flail round his neck and a straw rope about his body. also, as we have seen, if a stranger woman enters the threshing-floor, the threshers put a flail round her body and a wreath of corn-stalks round her neck, and call out, "see the corn-woman! see! that is how the corn-maiden looks!" thus in these harvest-customs of modern europe the person who cuts, binds, or threshes the last corn is treated as an embodiment of the corn-spirit by being wrapt up in sheaves, killed in mimicry by agricultural implements, and thrown into the water. these coincidences with the lityerses story seem to prove that the latter is a genuine description of an old phrygian harvest-custom. but since in the modern parallels the killing of the personal representative of the corn-spirit is necessarily omitted or at most enacted only in mimicry, it is desirable to show that in rude society human beings have been commonly killed as an agricultural ceremony to promote the fertility of the fields. the following examples will make this plain. . human sacrifices for the crops the indians of guayaquil, in ecuador, used to sacrifice human blood and the hearts of men when they sowed their fields. the people of cañar (now cuenca in ecuador) used to sacrifice a hundred children annually at harvest. the kings of quito, the incas of peru, and for a long time the spaniards were unable to suppress the bloody rite. at a mexican harvest-festival, when the first-fruits of the season were offered to the sun, a criminal was placed between two immense stones, balanced opposite each other, and was crushed by them as they fell together. his remains were buried, and a feast and dance followed. this sacrifice was known as "the meeting of the stones." we have seen that the ancient mexicans also sacrificed human beings at all the various stages in the growth of the maize, the age of the victims corresponding to the age of the corn; for they sacrificed new-born babes at sowing, older children when the grain had sprouted, and so on till it was fully ripe, when they sacrificed old men. no doubt the correspondence between the ages of the victims and the state of the corn was supposed to enhance the efficacy of the sacrifice. the pawnees annually sacrificed a human victim in spring when they sowed their fields. the sacrifice was believed to have been enjoined on them by the morning star, or by a certain bird which the morning star had sent to them as its messenger. the bird was stuffed and preserved as a powerful talisman. they thought that an omission of this sacrifice would be followed by the total failure of the crops of maize, beans, and pumpkins. the victim was a captive of either sex. he was clad in the gayest and most costly attire, was fattened on the choicest food, and carefully kept in ignorance of his doom. when he was fat enough, they bound him to a cross in the presence of the multitude, danced a solemn dance, then cleft his head with a tomahawk and shot him with arrows. according to one trader, the squaws then cut pieces of flesh from the victim's body, with which they greased their hoes; but this was denied by another trader who had been present at the ceremony. immediately after the sacrifice the people proceeded to plant their fields. a particular account has been preserved of the sacrifice of a sioux girl by the pawnees in april or . the girl was fourteen or fifteen years old and had been kept for six months and well treated. two days before the sacrifice she was led from wigwam to wigwam, accompanied by the whole council of chiefs and warriors. at each lodge she received a small billet of wood and a little paint, which she handed to the warrior next to her. in this way she called at every wigwam, receiving at each the same present of wood and paint. on the twenty-second of april she was taken out to be sacrificed, attended by the warriors, each of whom carried two pieces of wood which he had received from her hands. her body having been painted half red and half black, she was attached to a sort of gibbet and roasted for some time over a slow fire, then shot to death with arrows. the chief sacrificer next tore out her heart and devoured it. while her flesh was still warm it was cut in small pieces from the bones, put in little baskets, and taken to a neighbouring corn-field. there the head chief took a piece of the flesh from a basket and squeezed a drop of blood upon the newly-deposited grains of corn. his example was followed by the rest, till all the seed had been sprinkled with the blood; it was then covered up with earth. according to one account the body of the victim was reduced to a kind of paste, which was rubbed or sprinkled not only on the maize but also on the potatoes, the beans, and other seeds to fertilise them. by this sacrifice they hoped to obtain plentiful crops. a west african queen used to sacrifice a man and woman in the month of march. they were killed with spades and hoes, and their bodies buried in the middle of a field which had just been tilled. at lagos in guinea it was the custom annually to impale a young girl alive soon after the spring equinox in order to secure good crops. along with her were sacrificed sheep and goats, which, with yams, heads of maize, and plantains, were hung on stakes on each side of her. the victims were bred up for the purpose in the king's seraglio, and their minds had been so powerfully wrought upon by the fetish men that they went cheerfully to their fate. a similar sacrifice used to be annually offered at benin, in guinea. the marimos, a bechuana tribe, sacrifice a human being for the crops. the victim chosen is generally a short, stout man. he is seized by violence or intoxicated and taken to the fields, where he is killed amongst the wheat to serve as "seed" (so they phrase it). after his blood has coagulated in the sun, it is burned along with the frontal bone, the flesh attached to it, and the brain; the ashes are then scattered over the ground to fertilise it. the rest of the body is eaten. the bagobos of mindanao, one of the philippine islands, offer a human sacrifice before they sow their rice. the victim is a slave, who is hewn to pieces in the forest. the natives of bontoc in the interior of luzon, one of the philippine islands, are passionate head-hunters. their principal seasons for head-hunting are the times of planting and reaping the rice. in order that the crop may turn out well, every farm must get at least one human head at planting and one at sowing. the head-hunters go out in twos or threes, lie in wait for the victim, whether man or woman, cut off his or her head, hands, and feet, and bring them back in haste to the village, where they are received with great rejoicings. the skulls are at first exposed on the branches of two or three dead trees which stand in an open space of every village surrounded by large stones which serve as seats. the people then dance round them and feast and get drunk. when the flesh has decayed from the head, the man who cut it off takes it home and preserves it as a relic, while his companions do the same with the hands and the feet. similar customs are observed by the apoyaos, another tribe in the interior of luzon. among the lhota naga, one of the many savage tribes who inhabit the deep rugged labyrinthine glens which wind into the mountains from the rich valley of brahmapootra, it used to be a common custom to chop off the heads, hands, and feet of people they met with, and then to stick up the severed extremities in their fields to ensure a good crop of grain. they bore no ill-will whatever to the persons upon whom they operated in this unceremonious fashion. once they flayed a boy alive, carved him in pieces, and distributed the flesh among all the villagers, who put it into their corn-bins to avert bad luck and ensure plentiful crops of grain. the gonds of india, a dravidian race, kidnapped brahman boys, and kept them as victims to be sacrificed on various occasions. at sowing and reaping, after a triumphal procession, one of the lads was slain by being punctured with a poisoned arrow. his blood was then sprinkled over the ploughed field or the ripe crop, and his flesh was devoured. the oraons or uraons of chota nagpur worship a goddess called anna kuari, who can give good crops and make a man rich, but to induce her to do so it is necessary to offer human sacrifices. in spite of the vigilance of the british government these sacrifices are said to be still secretly perpetrated. the victims are poor waifs and strays whose disappearance attracts no notice. april and may are the months when the catchpoles are out on the prowl. at that time strangers will not go about the country alone, and parents will not let their children enter the jungle or herd the cattle. when a catchpole has found a victim, he cuts his throat and carries away the upper part of the ring finger and the nose. the goddess takes up her abode in the house of any man who has offered her a sacrifice, and from that time his fields yield a double harvest. the form she assumes in the house is that of a small child. when the householder brings in his unhusked rice, he takes the goddess and rolls her over the heap to double its size. but she soon grows restless and can only be pacified with the blood of fresh human victims. but the best known case of human sacrifices, systematically offered to ensure good crops, is supplied by the khonds or kandhs, another dravidian race in bengal. our knowledge of them is derived from the accounts written by british officers who, about the middle of the nineteenth century, were engaged in putting them down. the sacrifices were offered to the earth goddess. tari pennu or bera pennu, and were believed to ensure good crops and immunity from all disease and accidents. in particular, they were considered necessary in the cultivation of turmeric, the khonds arguing that the turmeric could not have a deep red colour without the shedding of blood. the victim or meriah, as he was called, was acceptable to the goddess only if he had been purchased, or had been born a victim--that is, the son of a victim father, or had been devoted as a child by his father or guardian. khonds in distress often sold their children for victims, "considering the beatification of their souls certain, and their death, for the benefit of mankind, the most honourable possible." a man of the panua tribe was once seen to load a khond with curses, and finally to spit in his face, because the khond had sold for a victim his own child, whom the panua had wished to marry. a party of khonds, who saw this, immediately pressed forward to comfort the seller of his child, saying, "your child has died that all the world may live, and the earth goddess herself will wipe that spittle from your face." the victims were often kept for years before they were sacrificed. being regarded as consecrated beings, they were treated with extreme affection, mingled with deference, and were welcomed wherever they went. a meriah youth, on attaining maturity, was generally given a wife, who was herself usually a meriah or victim; and with her he received a portion of land and farm-stock. their offspring were also victims. human sacrifices were offered to the earth goddess by tribes, branches of tribes, or villages, both at periodical festivals and on extraordinary occasions. the periodical sacrifices were generally so arranged by tribes and divisions of tribes that each head of a family was enabled, at least once a year, to procure a shred of flesh for his fields, generally about the time when his chief crop was laid down. the mode of performing these tribal sacrifices was as follows. ten or twelve days before the sacrifice, the victim was devoted by cutting off his hair, which, until then, had been kept unshorn. crowds of men and women assembled to witness the sacrifice; none might be excluded, since the sacrifice was declared to be for all mankind. it was preceded by several days of wild revelry and gross debauchery. on the day before the sacrifice the victim, dressed in a new garment, was led forth from the village in solemn procession, with music and dancing, to the meriah grove, a clump of high forest trees standing a little way from the village and untouched by the axe. there they tied him to a post, which was sometimes placed between two plants of the sankissar shrub. he was then anointed with oil, ghee, and turmeric, and adorned with flowers; and "a species of reverence, which it is not easy to distinguish from adoration," was paid to him throughout the day. a great struggle now arose to obtain the smallest relic from his person; a particle of the turmeric paste with which he was smeared, or a drop of his spittle, was esteemed of sovereign virtue, especially by the women. the crowd danced round the post to music, and addressing the earth, said, "o god, we offer this sacrifice to you; give us good crops, seasons, and health"; then speaking to the victim they said, "we bought you with a price, and did not seize you; now we sacrifice you according to custom, and no sin rests with us." on the last morning the orgies, which had been scarcely interrupted during the night, were resumed, and continued till noon, when they ceased, and the assembly proceeded to consummate the sacrifice. the victim was again anointed with oil, and each person touched the anointed part, and wiped the oil on his own head. in some places they took the victim in procession round the village, from door to door, where some plucked hair from his head, and others begged for a drop of his spittle, with which they anointed their heads. as the victim might not be bound nor make any show of resistance, the bones of his arms and, if necessary, his legs were broken; but often this precaution was rendered unnecessary by stupefying him with opium. the mode of putting him to death varied in different places. one of the commonest modes seems to have been strangulation, or squeezing to death. the branch of a green tree was cleft several feet down the middle; the victim's neck (in other places, his chest) was inserted in the cleft, which the priest, aided by his assistants, strove with all his force to close. then he wounded the victim slightly with his axe, whereupon the crowd rushed at the wretch and hewed the flesh from the bones, leaving the head and bowels untouched. sometimes he was cut up alive. in chinna kimedy he was dragged along the fields, surrounded by the crowd, who, avoiding his head and intestines, hacked the flesh from his body with their knives till he died. another very common mode of sacrifice in the same district was to fasten the victim to the proboscis of a wooden elephant, which revolved on a stout post, and, as it whirled round, the crowd cut the flesh from the victim while life remained. in some villages major campbell found as many as fourteen of these wooden elephants, which had been used at sacrifices. in one district the victim was put to death slowly by fire. a low stage was formed, sloping on either side like a roof; upon it they laid the victim, his limbs wound round with cords to confine his struggles. fires were then lighted and hot brands applied, to make him roll up and down the slopes of the stage as long as possible; for the more tears he shed the more abundant would be the supply of rain. next day the body was cut to pieces. the flesh cut from the victim was instantly taken home by the persons who had been deputed by each village to bring it. to secure its rapid arrival, it was sometimes forwarded by relays of men, and conveyed with postal fleetness fifty or sixty miles. in each village all who stayed at home fasted rigidly until the flesh arrived. the bearer deposited it in the place of public assembly, where it was received by the priest and the heads of families. the priest divided it into two portions, one of which he offered to the earth goddess by burying it in a hole in the ground with his back turned, and without looking. then each man added a little earth to bury it, and the priest poured water on the spot from a hill gourd. the other portion of flesh he divided into as many shares as there were heads of houses present. each head of a house rolled his shred of flesh in leaves, and buried it in his favourite field, placing it in the earth behind his back without looking. in some places each man carried his portion of flesh to the stream which watered his fields, and there hung it on a pole. for three days thereafter no house was swept; and, in one district, strict silence was observed, no fire might be given out, no wood cut, and no strangers received. the remains of the human victim (namely, the head, bowels, and bones) were watched by strong parties the night after the sacrifice; and next morning they were burned, along with a whole sheep, on a funeral pile. the ashes were scattered over the fields, laid as paste over the houses and granaries, or mixed with the new corn to preserve it from insects. sometimes, however, the head and bones were buried, not burnt. after the suppression of the human sacrifices, inferior victims were substituted in some places; for instance, in the capital of chinna kimedy a goat took the place of the human victim. others sacrifice a buffalo. they tie it to a wooden post in a sacred grove, dance wildly round it with brandished knives, then, falling on the living animal, hack it to shreds and tatters in a few minutes, fighting and struggling with each other for every particle of flesh. as soon as a man has secured a piece he makes off with it at full speed to bury it in his fields, according to ancient custom, before the sun has set, and as some of them have far to go they must run very fast. all the women throw clods of earth at the rapidly retreating figures of the men, some of them taking very good aim. soon the sacred grove, so lately a scene of tumult, is silent and deserted except for a few people who remain to guard all that is left of the buffalo, to wit, the head, the bones, and the stomach, which are burned with ceremony at the foot of the stake. in these khond sacrifices the meriahs are represented by our authorities as victims offered to propitiate the earth goddess. but from the treatment of the victims both before and after death it appears that the custom cannot be explained as merely a propitiatory sacrifice. a part of the flesh certainly was offered to the earth goddess, but the rest was buried by each householder in his fields, and the ashes of the other parts of the body were scattered over the fields, laid as paste on the granaries, or mixed with the new corn. these latter customs imply that to the body of the meriah there was ascribed a direct or intrinsic power of making the crops to grow, quite independent of the indirect efficacy which it might have as an offering to secure the good-will of the deity. in other words, the flesh and ashes of the victim were believed to be endowed with a magical or physical power of fertilising the land. the same intrinsic power was ascribed to the blood and tears of the meriah, his blood causing the redness of the turmeric and his tears producing rain; for it can hardly be doubted that, originally at least, the tears were supposed to bring down the rain, not merely to prognosticate it. similarly the custom of pouring water on the buried flesh of the meriah was no doubt a rain-charm. again, magical power as an attribute of the meriah appears in the sovereign virtue believed to reside in anything that came from his person, as his hair or spittle. the ascription of such power to the meriah indicates that he was much more than a mere man sacrificed to propitiate a deity. once more, the extreme reverence paid him points to the same conclusion. major campbell speaks of the meriah as "being regarded as something more than mortal," and major macpherson says, "a species of reverence, which it is not easy to distinguish from adoration, is paid to him." in short, the meriah seems to have been regarded as divine. as such, he may originally have represented the earth goddess or, perhaps, a deity of vegetation; though in later times he came to be regarded rather as a victim offered to a deity than as himself an incarnate god. this later view of the meriah as a victim rather than a divinity may perhaps have received undue emphasis from the european writers who have described the khond religion. habituated to the later idea of sacrifice as an offering made to a god for the purpose of conciliating his favour, european observers are apt to interpret all religious slaughter in this sense, and to suppose that wherever such slaughter takes place, there must necessarily be a deity to whom the carnage is believed by the slayers to be acceptable. thus their preconceived ideas may unconsciously colour and warp their descriptions of savage rites. the same custom of killing the representative of a god, of which strong traces appear in the khond sacrifices, may perhaps be detected in some of the other human sacrifices described above. thus the ashes of the slaughtered marimo were scattered over the fields; the blood of the brahman lad was put on the crop and field; the flesh of the slain naga was stowed in the corn-bin; and the blood of the sioux girl was allowed to trickle on the seed. again, the identification of the victim with the corn, in other words, the view that he is an embodiment or spirit of the corn, is brought out in the pains which seem to be taken to secure a physical correspondence between him and the natural object which he embodies or represents. thus the mexicans killed young victims for the young corn and old ones for the ripe corn; the marimos sacrifice, as "seed," a short, fat man, the shortness of his stature corresponding to that of the young corn, his fatness to the condition which it is desired that the crops may attain; and the pawnees fattened their victims probably with the same view. again, the identification of the victim with the corn comes out in the african custom of killing him with spades and hoes, and the mexican custom of grinding him, like corn, between two stones. one more point in these savage customs deserves to be noted. the pawnee chief devoured the heart of the sioux girl, and the marimos and gonds ate the victim's flesh. if, as we suppose, the victim was regarded as divine, it follows that in eating his flesh his worshippers believed themselves to be partaking of the body of their god. . the corn-spirit slain in his human representatives the barbarous rites just described offer analogies to the harvest customs of europe. thus the fertilising virtue ascribed to the corn-spirit is shown equally in the savage custom of mixing the victim's blood or ashes with the seed-corn and the european custom of mixing the grain from the last sheaf with the young corn in spring. again, the identification of the person with the corn appears alike in the savage custom of adapting the age and stature of the victim to the age and stature, whether actual or expected, of the crop; in the scotch and styrian rules that when the corn-spirit is conceived as the maiden the last corn shall be cut by a young maiden, but when it is conceived as the corn-mother it shall be cut by an old woman; in the warning given to old women in lorraine to save themselves when the old woman is being killed, that is, when the last corn is being threshed; and in the tyrolese expectation that if the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is tall, the next year's corn will be tall also. further, the same identification is implied in the savage custom of killing the representative of the corn-spirit with hoes or spades or by grinding him between stones, and in the european custom of pretending to kill him with the scythe or the flail. once more the khond custom of pouring water on the buried flesh of the victim is parallel to the european customs of pouring water on the personal representative of the corn-spirit or plunging him into a stream. both the khond and the european customs are rain-charms. to return now to the lityerses story. it has been shown that in rude society human beings have been commonly killed to promote the growth of the crops. there is therefore no improbability in the supposition that they may once have been killed for a like purpose in phrygia and europe; and when phrygian legend and european folk-custom, closely agreeing with each other, point to the conclusion that men were so slain, we are bound, provisionally at least, to accept the conclusion. further, both the lityerses story and european harvest-customs agree in indicating that the victim was put to death as a representative of the corn-spirit, and this indication is in harmony with the view which some savages appear to take of the victim slain to make the crops flourish. on the whole, then, we may fairly suppose that both in phrygia and in europe the representative of the corn-spirit was annually killed upon the harvest-field. grounds have been already shown for believing that similarly in europe the representative of the tree-spirit was annually slain. the proofs of these two remarkable and closely analogous customs are entirely independent of each other. their coincidence seems to furnish fresh presumption in favour of both. to the question, how was the representative of the corn-spirit chosen? one answer has been already given. both the lityerses story and european folk-custom show that passing strangers were regarded as manifestations of the corn-spirit escaping from the cut or threshed corn, and as such were seized and slain. but this is not the only answer which the evidence suggests. according to the phrygian legend the victims of lityerses were not simply passing strangers, but persons whom he had vanquished in a reaping contest and afterwards wrapt up in corn-sheaves and beheaded. this suggests that the representative of the corn-spirit may have been selected by means of a competition on the harvest-field, in which the vanquished competitor was compelled to accept the fatal honour. the supposition is countenanced by european harvest-customs. we have seen that in europe there is sometimes a contest amongst the reapers to avoid being last, and that the person who is vanquished in this competition, that is, who cuts the last corn, is often roughly handled. it is true we have not found that a pretence is made of killing him; but on the other hand we have found that a pretence is made of killing the man who gives the last stroke at threshing, that is, who is vanquished in the threshing contest. now, since it is in the character of representative of the corn-spirit that the thresher of the last corn is slain in mimicry, and since the same representative character attaches (as we have seen) to the cutter and binder as well as to the thresher of the last corn, and since the same repugnance is evinced by harvesters to be last in any one of these labours, we may conjecture that a pretence has been commonly made of killing the reaper and binder as well as the thresher of the last corn, and that in ancient times this killing was actually carried out. this conjecture is corroborated by the common superstition that whoever cuts the last corn must die soon. sometimes it is thought that the person who binds the last sheaf on the field will die in the course of next year. the reason for fixing on the reaper, binder, or thresher of the last corn as the representative of the corn-spirit may be this. the corn-spirit is supposed to lurk as long as he can in the corn, retreating before the reapers, the binders, and the threshers at their work. but when he is forcibly expelled from his refuge in the last corn cut or the last sheaf bound or the last grain threshed, he necessarily assumes some other form than that of the corn-stalks, which had hitherto been his garment or body. and what form can the expelled corn-spirit assume more naturally than that of the person who stands nearest to the corn from which he (the corn-spirit) has just been expelled? but the person in question is necessarily the reaper, binder, or thresher of the last corn. he or she, therefore, is seized and treated as the corn-spirit himself. thus the person who was killed on the harvest-field as the representative of the corn-spirit may have been either a passing stranger or the harvester who was last at reaping, binding, or threshing. but there is a third possibility, to which ancient legend and modern folk-custom alike point. lityerses not only put strangers to death; he was himself slain, and apparently in the same way as he had slain others, namely, by being wrapt in a corn-sheaf, beheaded, and cast into the river; and it is implied that this happened to lityerses on his own land. similarly in modern harvest-customs the pretence of killing appears to be carried out quite as often on the person of the master (farmer or squire) as on that of strangers. now when we remember that lityerses was said to have been a son of the king of phrygia, and that in one account he is himself called a king, and when we combine with this the tradition that he was put to death, apparently as a representative of the corn-spirit, we are led to conjecture that we have here another trace of the custom of annually slaying one of those divine or priestly kings who are known to have held ghostly sway in many parts of western asia and particularly in phrygia. the custom appears, as we have seen, to have been so far modified in places that the king's son was slain in the king's stead. of the custom thus modified the story of lityerses would be, in one version at least, a reminiscence. turning now to the relation of the phrygian lityerses to the phrygian attis, it may be remembered that at pessinus--the seat of a priestly kingship--the high-priest appears to have been annually slain in the character of attis, a god of vegetation, and that attis was described by an ancient authority as "a reaped ear of corn." thus attis, as an embodiment of the corn-spirit, annually slain in the person of his representative, might be thought to be ultimately identical with lityerses, the latter being simply the rustic prototype out of which the state religion of attis was developed. it may have been so; but, on the other hand, the analogy of european folk-custom warns us that amongst the same people two distinct deities of vegetation may have their separate personal representatives, both of whom are slain in the character of gods at different times of the year. for in europe, as we have seen, it appears that one man was commonly slain in the character of the tree-spirit in spring, and another in the character of the corn-spirit in autumn. it may have been so in phrygia also. attis was especially a tree-god, and his connexion with corn may have been only such an extension of the power of a tree-spirit as is indicated in customs like the harvest-may. again, the representative of attis appears to have been slain in spring; whereas lityerses must have been slain in summer or autumn, according to the time of the harvest in phrygia. on the whole, then, while we are not justified in regarding lityerses as the prototype of attis, the two may be regarded as parallel products of the same religious idea, and may have stood to each other as in europe the old man of harvest stands to the wild man, the leaf man, and so forth, of spring. both were spirits or deities of vegetation, and the personal representatives of both were annually slain. but whereas the attis worship became elevated into the dignity of a state religion and spread to italy, the rites of lityerses seem never to have passed the limits of their native phrygia, and always retained their character of rustic ceremonies performed by peasants on the harvest-field. at most a few villages may have clubbed together, as amongst the khonds, to procure a human victim to be slain as representative of the corn-spirit for their common benefit. such victims may have been drawn from the families of priestly kings or kinglets, which would account for the legendary character of lityerses as the son of a phrygian king or as himself a king. when villages did not so club together, each village or farm may have procured its own representative of the corn-spirit by dooming to death either a passing stranger or the harvester who cut, bound, or threshed the last sheaf. perhaps in the olden time the practice of head-hunting as a means of promoting the growth of the corn may have been as common among the rude inhabitants of europe and western asia as it still is, or was till lately, among the primitive agricultural tribes of assam, burma, the philippine islands, and the indian archipelago. it is hardly necessary to add that in phrygia, as in europe, the old barbarous custom of killing a man on the harvest-field or the threshing-floor had doubtless passed into a mere pretence long before the classical era, and was probably regarded by the reapers and threshers themselves as no more than a rough jest which the license of a harvest-home permitted them to play off on a passing stranger, a comrade, or even on their master himself. i have dwelt on the lityerses song at length because it affords so many points of comparison with european and savage folk-custom. the other harvest songs of western asia and egypt, to which attention has been called above, may now be dismissed much more briefly. the similarity of the bithynian bormus to the phrygian lityerses helps to bear out the interpretation which has been given of the latter. bormus, whose death or rather disappearance was annually mourned by the reapers in a plaintive song, was, like lityerses, a king's son or at least the son of a wealthy and distinguished man. the reapers whom he watched were at work on his own fields, and he disappeared in going to fetch water for them; according to one version of the story he was carried off by the nymphs, doubtless the nymphs of the spring or pool or river whither he went to draw water. viewed in the light of the lityerses story and of european folk-custom, this disappearance of bormus may be a reminiscence of the custom of binding the farmer himself in a corn-sheaf and throwing him into the water. the mournful strain which the reapers sang was probably a lamentation over the death of the corn-spirit, slain either in the cut corn or in the person of a human representative; and the call which they addressed to him may have been a prayer that he might return in fresh vigour next year. the phoenician linus song was sung at the vintage, at least in the west of asia minor, as we learn from homer; and this, combined with the legend of syleus, suggests that in ancient times passing strangers were handled by vintagers and vine-diggers in much the same way as they are said to have been handled by the reaper lityerses. the lydian syleus, so ran the legend, compelled passers-by to dig for him in his vineyard, till hercules came and killed him and dug up his vines by the roots. this seems to be the outline of a legend like that of lityerses; but neither ancient writers nor modern folk-custom enable us to fill in the details. but, further, the linus song was probably sung also by phoenician reapers, for herodotus compares it to the maneros song, which, as we have seen, was a lament raised by egyptian reapers over the cut corn. further, linus was identified with adonis, and adonis has some claims to be regarded as especially a corn-deity. thus the linus lament, as sung at harvest, would be identical with the adonis lament; each would be the lamentation raised by reapers over the dead spirit of the corn. but whereas adonis, like attis, grew into a stately figure of mythology, adored and mourned in splendid cities far beyond the limits of his phoenician home, linus appears to have remained a simple ditty sung by reapers and vintagers among the corn-sheaves and the vines. the analogy of lityerses and of folk-custom, both european and savage, suggests that in phoenicia the slain corn-spirit--the dead adonis--may formerly have been represented by a human victim; and this suggestion is possibly supported by the harran legend that tammuz (adonis) was slain by his cruel lord, who ground his bones in a mill and scattered them to the wind. for in mexico, as we have seen, the human victim at harvest was crushed between two stones; and both in africa and india the ashes or other remains of the victim were scattered over the fields. but the harran legend may be only a mythical way of expressing the grinding of corn in the mill and the scattering of the seed. it seems worth suggesting that the mock king who was annually killed at the babylonian festival of the sacaea on the sixteenth day of the month lous may have represented tammuz himself. for the historian berosus, who records the festival and its date, probably used the macedonian calendar, since he dedicated his history to antiochus soter; and in his day the macedonian month lous appears to have corresponded to the babylonian month tammuz. if this conjecture is right, the view that the mock king at the sacaea was slain in the character of a god would be established. there is a good deal more evidence that in egypt the slain corn-spirit--the dead osiris--was represented by a human victim, whom the reapers slew on the harvest-field, mourning his death in a dirge, to which the greeks, through a verbal misunderstanding, gave the name of maneros. for the legend of busiris seems to preserve a reminiscence of human sacrifices once offered by the egyptians in connexion with the worship of osiris. busiris was said to have been an egyptian king who sacrificed all strangers on the altar of zeus. the origin of the custom was traced to a dearth which afflicted the land of egypt for nine years. a cyprian seer informed busiris that the dearth would cease if a man were annually sacrificed to zeus. so busiris instituted the sacrifice. but when hercules came to egypt, and was being dragged to the altar to be sacrificed, he burst his bonds and slew busiris and his son. here then is a legend that in egypt a human victim was annually sacrificed to prevent the failure of the crops, and a belief is implied that an omission of the sacrifice would have entailed a recurrence of that infertility which it was the object of the sacrifice to prevent. so the pawnees, as we have seen, believed that an omission of the human sacrifice at planting would have been followed by a total failure of their crops. the name busiris was in reality the name of a city, _pe-asar,_ "the house of osiris," the city being so called because it contained the grave of osiris. indeed some high modern authorities believe that busiris was the original home of osiris, from which his worship spread to other parts of egypt. the human sacrifice were said to have been offered at his grave, and the victims were red-haired men, whose ashes were scattered abroad by means of winnowing-fans. this tradition of human sacrifices offered at the tomb of osiris is confirmed by the evidence of the monuments. in the light of the foregoing discussion the egyptian tradition of busiris admits of a consistent and fairly probable explanation. osiris, the corn-spirit, was annually represented at harvest by a stranger, whose red hair made him a suitable representative of the ripe corn. this man, in his representative character, was slain on the harvest-field, and mourned by the reapers, who prayed at the same time that the corn-spirit might revive and return (_mââ-ne-rha,_ maneros) with renewed vigour in the following year. finally, the victim, or some part of him, was burned, and the ashes scattered by winnowing-fans over the fields to fertilise them. here the choice of the victim on the ground of his resemblance to the corn which he was to represent agrees with the mexican and african customs already described. similarly the woman who died in the character of the corn-mother at the mexican midsummer sacrifice had her face painted red and yellow in token of the colours of the corn, and she wore a pasteboard mitre surmounted by waving plumes in imitation of the tassel of the maize. on the other hand, at the festival of the goddess of the white maize the mexicans sacrificed lepers. the romans sacrificed red-haired puppies in spring to avert the supposed blighting influence of the dog-star, believing that the crops would thus grow ripe and ruddy. the heathen of harran offered to the sun, moon, and planets human victims who were chosen on the ground of their supposed resemblance to the heavenly bodies to which they were sacrificed; for example, the priests, clothed in red and smeared with blood, offered a red-haired, red-cheeked man to "the red planet mars" in a temple which was painted red and draped with red hangings. these and the like cases of assimilating the victim to the god, or to the natural phenomenon which he represents, are based ultimately on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, the notion being that the object aimed at will be most readily attained by means of a sacrifice which resembles the effect that it is designed to bring about. the story that the fragments of osiris's body were scattered up and down the land, and buried by isis on the spots where they lay, may very well be a reminiscence of a custom, like that observed by the khonds, of dividing the human victim in pieces and burying the pieces, often at intervals of many miles from each other, in the fields. thus, if i am right, the key to the mysteries of osiris is furnished by the melancholy cry of the egyptian reapers, which down to roman times could be heard year after year sounding across the fields, announcing the death of the corn-spirit, the rustic prototype of osiris. similar cries, as we have seen, were also heard on all the harvest-fields of western asia. by the ancients they are spoken of as songs; but to judge from the analysis of the names linus and maneros, they probably consisted only of a few words uttered in a prolonged musical note which could be heard at a great distance. such sonorous and long-drawn cries, raised by a number of strong voices in concert, must have had a striking effect, and could hardly fail to arrest the attention of any wayfarer who happened to be within hearing. the sounds, repeated again and again, could probably be distinguished with tolerable ease even at a distance; but to a greek traveller in asia or egypt the foreign words would commonly convey no meaning, and he might take them, not unnaturally, for the name of some one (maneros, linus, lityerses, bormus) upon whom the reapers were calling. and if his journey led him through more countries than one, as bithynia and phrygia, or phoenicia and egypt, while the corn was being reaped, he would have an opportunity of comparing the various harvest cries of the different peoples. thus we can readily understand why these harvest cries were so often noted and compared with each other by the greeks. whereas, if they had been regular songs, they could not have been heard at such distances, and therefore could not have attracted the attention of so many travellers; and, moreover, even if the wayfarer were within hearing of them, he could not so easily have picked out the words. down to recent times devonshire reapers uttered cries of the same sort, and performed on the field a ceremony exactly analogous to that in which, if i am not mistaken, the rites of osiris originated. the cry and the ceremony are thus described by an observer who wrote in the first half of the nineteenth century. "after the wheat is all cut, on most farms in the north of devon, the harvest people have a custom of 'crying the neck.' i believe that this practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in that part of the country. it is done in this way. an old man, or some one else well acquainted with the ceremonies used on the occasion (when the labourers are reaping the last field of wheat), goes round to the shocks and sheaves, and picks out a little bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up very neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully. this is called 'the neck' of wheat, or wheaten-ears. after the field is cut out, and the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and the women stand round in a circle. the person with 'the neck' stands in the centre, grasping it with both hands. he first stoops and holds it near the ground, and all the men forming the ring take off their hats, stooping and holding them with both hands towards the ground. they then all begin at once in a very prolonged and harmonious tone to cry 'the neck!' at the same time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating their arms and hats above their heads; the person with 'the neck' also raising it on high. this is done three times. they then change their cry to 'wee yen!'--'way yen!'--which they sound in the same prolonged and slow manner as before, with singular harmony and effect, three times. this last cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms as in crying 'the neck.' . . . after having thus repeated 'the neck' three times, and 'wee yen,' or 'way yen' as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about and perhaps kissing the girls. one of them then gets 'the neck' and runs as hard as he can down to the farmhouse, where the dairymaid, or one of the young female domestics, stands at the door prepared with a pail of water. if he who holds 'the neck' can manage to get into the house, in any way unseen, or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise, he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. on a fine still autumn evening the 'crying of the neck' has a wonderful effect at a distance, far finer than that of the turkish muezzin, which lord byron eulogises so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells of christendom. i have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. about three years back, on some high grounds, where our people were harvesting, i heard six or seven 'necks' cried in one night, although i know that some of them were four miles off. they are heard through the quiet evening air at a considerable distance sometimes." again, mrs. bray tells how, travelling in devonshire, "she saw a party of reapers standing in a circle on a rising ground, holding their sickles aloft. one in the middle held up some ears of corn tied together with flowers, and the party shouted three times (what she writes as) 'arnack, arnack, arnack, we _haven,_ we _haven,_ we _haven._' they went home, accompanied by women and children carrying boughs of flowers, shouting and singing. the manservant who attended mrs. bray said 'it was only the people making their games, as they always did, _to the spirit of harvest._'" here, as miss burne remarks, "'arnack, we haven!' is obviously in the devon dialect, 'a neck (or nack)! we have un!'" another account of this old custom, written at truro in , runs thus: "now, when all the corn was cut at heligan, the farming men and maidens come in front of the house, and bring with them a small sheaf of corn, the last that has been cut, and this is adorned with ribbons and flowers, and one part is tied quite tight, so as to look like a neck. then they cry out 'our (my) side, my side,' as loud as they can; then the dairymaid gives the neck to the head farming-man. he takes it, and says, very loudly three times, 'i have him, i have him, i have him.' then another farming-man shouts very loudly, 'what have ye? what have ye? what have ye?' then the first says, 'a neck, a neck, a neck.' and when he has said this, all the people make a very great shouting. this they do three times, and after one famous shout go away and eat supper, and dance, and sing songs." according to another account, "all went out to the field when the last corn was cut, the 'neck' was tied with ribbons and plaited, and they danced round it, and carried it to the great kitchen, where by-and-by the supper was. the words were as given in the previous account, and 'hip, hip, hack, heck, i have 'ee, i have 'ee, i have 'ee.' it was hung up in the hall." another account relates that one of the men rushed from the field with the last sheaf, while the rest pursued him with vessels of water, which they tried to throw over the sheaf before it could be brought into the barn. in the foregoing customs a particular bunch of ears, generally the last left standing, is conceived as the neck of the corn-spirit, who is consequently beheaded when the bunch is cut down. similarly in shropshire the name "neck," or "the gander's neck," used to be commonly given to the last handful of ears left standing in the middle of the field when all the rest of the corn was cut. it was plaited together, and the reapers, standing ten or twenty paces off, threw their sickles at it. whoever cut it through was said to have cut off the gander's neck. the "neck" was taken to the farmer's wife, who was supposed to keep it in the house for good luck till the next harvest came round. near trèves, the man who reaps the last standing corn "cuts the goat's neck off." at faslane, on the gareloch (dumbartonshire), the last handful of standing corn was sometimes called the "head." at aurich, in east friesland, the man who reaps the last corn "cuts the hare's tail off." in mowing down the last corner of a field french reapers sometimes call out, "we have the cat by the tail." in bresse (bourgogne) the last sheaf represented the fox. beside it a score of ears were left standing to form the tail, and each reaper, going back some paces, threw his sickle at it. he who succeeded in severing it "cut off the fox's tail," and a cry of "_you cou cou!_" was raised in his honour. these examples leave no room to doubt the meaning of the devonshire and cornish expression "the neck," as applied to the last sheaf. the corn-spirit is conceived in human or animal form, and the last standing corn is part of its body--its neck, its head, or its tail. sometimes, as we have seen, the last corn is regarded as the navel-string. lastly, the devonshire custom of drenching with water the person who brings in "the neck" is a raincharm, such as we have had many examples of. its parallel in the mysteries of osiris was the custom of pouring water on the image of osiris or on the person who represented him. xlviii. the corn-spirit as an animal . animal embodiments of the corn-spirit in some of the examples which i have cited to establish the meaning of the term "neck" as applied to the last sheaf, the corn-spirit appears in animal form as a gander, a goat, a hare, a cat, and a fox. this introduces us to a new aspect of the corn-spirit, which we must now examine. by doing so we shall not only have fresh examples of killing the god, but may hope also to clear up some points which remain obscure in the myths and worship of adonis, attis, osiris, dionysus, demeter, and virbius. amongst the many animals whose forms the corn-spirit is supposed to take are the wolf, dog, hare, fox, cock, goose, quail, cat, goat, cow (ox, bull), pig, and horse. in one or other of these shapes the corn-spirit is often believed to be present in the corn, and to be caught or killed in the last sheaf. as the corn is being cut the animal flees before the reapers, and if a reaper is taken ill on the field, he is supposed to have stumbled unwittingly on the corn-spirit, who has thus punished the profane intruder. it is said "the rye-wolf has got hold of him," "the harvest-goat has given him a push." the person who cuts the last corn or binds the last sheaf gets the name of the animal, as the rye-wolf, the rye-sow, the oats-goat, and so forth, and retains the name sometimes for a year. also the animal is frequently represented by a puppet made out of the last sheaf or of wood, flowers, and so on, which is carried home amid rejoicings on the last harvest-waggon. even where the last sheaf is not made up in animal shape, it is often called the rye-wolf, the hare, goat, and so forth. generally each kind of crop is supposed to have its special animal, which is caught in the last sheaf, and called the rye-wolf, the barley-wolf, the oats-wolf, the pea-wolf, or the potato-wolf, according to the crop; but sometimes the figure of the animal is only made up once for all at getting in the last crop of the whole harvest. sometimes the creature is believed to be killed by the last stroke of the sickle or scythe. but oftener it is thought to live so long as there is corn still unthreshed, and to be caught in the last sheaf threshed. hence the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is told that he has got the corn-sow, the threshing-dog, or the like. when the threshing is finished, a puppet is made in the form of the animal, and this is carried by the thresher of the last sheaf to a neighbouring farm, where the threshing is still going on. this again shows that the corn-spirit is believed to live wherever the corn is still being threshed. sometimes the thresher of the last sheaf himself represents the animal; and if the people of the next farm, who are still threshing, catch him, they treat him like the animal he represents, by shutting him up in the pig-sty, calling him with the cries commonly addressed to pigs, and so forth. these general statements will now be illustrated by examples. . the corn-spirit as a wolf or a dog we begin with the corn-spirit conceived as a wolf or a dog. this conception is common in france, germany, and slavonic countries. thus, when the wind sets the corn in wave-like motion the peasants often say, "the wolf is going over, or through, the corn," "the rye-wolf is rushing over the field," "the wolf is in the corn," "the mad dog is in the corn," "the big dog is there." when children wish to go into the corn-fields to pluck ears or gather the blue corn-flowers, they are warned not to do so, for "the big dog sits in the corn," or "the wolf sits in the corn, and will tear you in pieces," "the wolf will eat you." the wolf against whom the children are warned is not a common wolf, for he is often spoken of as the corn-wolf, rye-wolf, or the like; thus they say, "the rye-wolf will come and eat you up, children," "the rye-wolf will carry you off," and so forth. still he has all the outward appearance of a wolf. for in the neighbourhood of feilenhof (east prussia), when a wolf was seen running through a field, the peasants used to watch whether he carried his tail in the air or dragged it on the ground. if he dragged it on the ground, they went after him, and thanked him for bringing them a blessing, and even set tit-bits before him. but if he carried his tail high, they cursed him and tried to kill him. here the wolf is the corn-spirit whose fertilising power is in his tail. both dog and wolf appear as embodiments of the corn-spirit in harvest-customs. thus in some parts of silesia the person who cuts or binds the last sheaf is called the wheat-dog or the peas-pug. but it is in the harvest-customs of the north-east of france that the idea of the corn-dog comes out most clearly. thus when a harvester, through sickness, weariness, or laziness, cannot or will not keep up with the reaper in front of him, they say, "the white dog passed near him," "he has the white bitch," or "the white bitch has bitten him." in the vosges the harvest-may is called the "dog of the harvest," and the person who cuts the last handful of hay or wheat is said to "kill the dog." about lons-le-saulnier, in the jura, the last sheaf is called the bitch. in the neighbourhood of verdun the regular expression for finishing the reaping is, "they are going to kill the dog"; and at epinal they say, according to the crop, "we will kill the wheat-dog, or the rye-dog, or the potato-dog." in lorraine it is said of the man who cuts the last corn, "he is killing the dog of the harvest." at dux, in the tyrol, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is said to "strike down the dog"; and at ahnebergen, near stade, he is called, according to the crop, corn-pug, rye-pug, wheat-pug. so with the wolf. in silesia, when the reapers gather round the last patch of standing corn to reap it they are said to be about "to catch the wolf." in various parts of mecklenburg, where the belief in the corn-wolf is particularly prevalent, every one fears to cut the last corn, because they say that the wolf is sitting in it; hence every reaper exerts himself to the utmost in order not to be the last, and every woman similarly fears to bind the last sheaf because "the wolf is in it." so both among the reapers and the binders there is a competition not to be the last to finish. and in germany generally it appears to be a common saying that "the wolf sits in the last sheaf." in some places they call out to the reaper, "beware of the wolf"; or they say, "he is chasing the wolf out of the corn." in mecklenburg the last bunch of standing corn is itself commonly called the wolf, and the man who reaps it "has the wolf," the animal being described as the rye-wolf, the wheat-wolf, the barley-wolf, and so on according to the particular crop. the reaper of the last corn is himself called wolf or the rye-wolf, if the crop is rye, and in many parts of mecklenburg he has to support the character by pretending to bite the other harvesters or by howling like a wolf. the last sheaf of corn is also called the wolf or the rye-wolf or the oats-wolf according to the crop, and of the woman who binds it they say, "the wolf is biting her," "she has the wolf," "she must fetch the wolf" (out of the corn). moreover, she herself is called wolf; they cry out to her, "thou art the wolf," and she has to bear the name for a whole year; sometimes, according to the crop, she is called the rye-wolf or the potato-wolf. in the island of rügen not only is the woman who binds the last sheaf called wolf, but when she comes home she bites the lady of the house and the stewardess, for which she receives a large piece of meat. yet nobody likes to be the wolf. the same woman may be rye-wolf, wheat-wolf, and oats-wolf, if she happens to bind the last sheaf of rye, wheat, and oats. at buir, in the district of cologne, it was formerly the custom to give to the last sheaf the shape of a wolf. it was kept in the barn till all the corn was threshed. then it was brought to the farmer and he had to sprinkle it with beer or brandy. at brunshaupten in mecklenburg the young woman who bound the last sheaf of wheat used to take a handful of stalks out of it and make "the wheat-wolf" with them; it was the figure of a wolf about two feet long and half a foot high, the legs of the animal being represented by stiff stalks and its tail and mane by wheat-ears. this wheat-wolf she carried back at the head of the harvesters to the village, where it was set up on a high place in the parlour of the farm and remained there for a long time. in many places the sheaf called the wolf is made up in human form and dressed in clothes. this indicates a confusion of ideas between the corn-spirit conceived in human and in animal form. generally the wolf is brought home on the last waggon with joyful cries. hence the last waggon-load itself receives the name of the wolf. again, the wolf is supposed to hide himself amongst the cut corn in the granary, until he is driven out of the last bundle by the strokes of the flail. hence at wanzleben, near magdeburg, after the threshing the peasants go in procession, leading by a chain a man who is enveloped in the threshed-out straw and is called the wolf. he represents the corn-spirit who has been caught escaping from the threshed corn. in the district of treves it is believed that the corn-wolf is killed at threshing. the men thresh the last sheaf till it is reduced to chopped straw. in this way they think that the corn-wolf, who was lurking in the last sheaf, has been certainly killed. in france also the corn-wolf appears at harvest. thus they call out to the reaper of the last corn, "you will catch the wolf." near chambéry they form a ring round the last standing corn, and cry, "the wolf is in there." in finisterre, when the reaping draws near an end, the harvesters cry, "there is the wolf; we will catch him." each takes a swath to reap, and he who finishes first calls out, "i've caught the wolf." in guyenne, when the last corn has been reaped, they lead a wether all round the field. it is called "the wolf of the field." its horns are decked with a wreath of flowers and corn-ears, and its neck and body are also encircled with garlands and ribbons. all the reapers march, singing, behind it. then it is killed on the field. in this part of france the last sheaf is called the _coujoulage,_ which, in the patois, means a wether. hence the killing of the wether represents the death of the corn-spirit, considered as present in the last sheaf; but two different conceptions of the corn-spirit--as a wolf and as a wether--are mixed up together. sometimes it appears to be thought that the wolf, caught in the last corn, lives during the winter in the farmhouse, ready to renew his activity as corn-spirit in the spring. hence at midwinter, when the lengthening days begin to herald the approach of spring, the wolf makes his appearance once more. in poland a man, with a wolf's skin thrown over his head, is led about at christmas; or a stuffed wolf is carried about by persons who collect money. there are facts which point to an old custom of leading about a man enveloped in leaves and called the wolf, while his conductors collected money. . the corn-spirit as a cock another form which the corn-spirit often assumes is that of a cock. in austria children are warned against straying in the corn-fields, because the corn-cock sits there, and will peck their eyes out. in north germany they say that "the cock sits in the last sheaf"; and at cutting the last corn the reapers cry, "now we will chase out the cock." when it is cut they say, "we have caught the cock." at braller, in transylvania, when the reapers come to the last patch of corn, they cry, "here we shall catch the cock." at fürstenwalde, when the last sheaf is about to be bound, the master releases a cock, which he has brought in a basket, and lets it run over the field. all the harvesters chase it till they catch it. elsewhere the harvesters all try to seize the last corn cut; he who succeeds in grasping it must crow, and is called cock. among the wends it is or used to be customary for the farmer to hide a live cock under the last sheaf as it lay on the field; and when the corn was being gathered up, the harvester who lighted upon this sheaf had a right to keep the cock, provided he could catch it. this formed the close of the harvest-festival and was known as "the cock-catching," and the beer which was served out to the reapers at this time went by the name of "cock-beer." the last sheaf is called cock, cock-sheaf, harvest-cock, harvest-hen, autumn-hen. a distinction is made between a wheat-cock, bean-cock, and so on, according to the crop. at wünschensuhl, in thüringen, the last sheaf is made into the shape of a cock, and called the harvest-cock. a figure of a cock, made of wood, pasteboard, ears of corn, or flowers, is borne in front of the harvest-waggon, especially in westphalia, where the cock carries in his beak fruits of the earth of all kinds. sometimes the image of the cock is fastened to the top of a may-tree on the last harvest-waggon. elsewhere a live cock, or a figure of one, is attached to a harvest-crown and carried on a pole. in galicia and elsewhere this live cock is fastened to the garland of corn-ears or flowers, which the leader of the women-reapers carries on her head as she marches in front of the harvest procession. in silesia a live cock is presented to the master on a plate. the harvest-supper is called harvest-cock, stubble-cock, etc., and a chief dish at it, at least in some places, is a cock. if a waggoner upsets a harvest-waggon, it is said that "he has spilt the harvest-cock," and he loses the cock, that is, the harvest-supper. the harvest-waggon, with the figure of the cock on it, is driven round the farmhouse before it is taken to the barn. then the cock is nailed over or at the side of the house-door, or on the gable, and remains there till next harvest. in east friesland the person who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the clucking-hen, and grain is strewed before him as if he were a hen. again, the corn-spirit is killed in the form of a cock. in parts of germany, hungary, poland, and picardy the reapers place a live cock in the corn which is to be cut last, and chase it over the field, or bury it up to the neck in the ground; afterwards they strike off its head with a sickle or scythe. in many parts of westphalia, when the harvesters bring the wooden cock to the farmer, he gives them a live cock, which they kill with whips or sticks, or behead with an old sword, or throw into the barn to the girls, or give to the mistress to cook. it the harvest-cock has not been spilt--that is, if no waggon has been upset--the harvesters have the right to kill the farmyard cock by throwing stones at it or beheading it. where this custom has fallen into disuse, it is still common for the farmer's wife to make cockie-leekie for the harvesters, and to show them the head of the cock which has been killed for the soup. in the neighbourhood of klausenburg, transylvania, a cock is buried on the harvest-field in the earth, so that only its head appears. a young man then takes a scythe and cuts off the cock's head at a single sweep. if he fails to do this, he is called the red cock for a whole year, and people fear that next year's crop will be bad. near udvarhely, in transylvania, a live cock is bound up in the last sheaf and killed with a spit. it is then skinned. the flesh is thrown away, but the skin and feathers are kept till next year; and in spring the grain from the last sheaf is mixed with the feathers of the cock and scattered on the field which is to be tilled. nothing could set in a clearer light the identification of the cock with the spirit of the corn. by being tied up in the last sheaf and killed, the cock is identified with the corn, and its death with the cutting of the corn. by keeping its feathers till spring, then mixing them with the seed-corn taken from the very sheaf in which the bird had been bound, and scattering the feathers together with the seed over the field, the identity of the bird with the corn is again emphasised, and its quickening and fertilising power, as an embodiment of the corn-spirit, is intimated in the plainest manner. thus the corn-spirit, in the form of a cock, is killed at harvest, but rises to fresh life and activity in spring. again, the equivalence of the cock to the corn is expressed, hardly less plainly, in the custom of burying the bird in the ground, and cutting off its head (like the ears of corn) with the scythe. . the corn-spirit as a hare another common embodiment of the corn-spirit is the hare. in galloway the reaping of the last standing corn is called "cutting the hare." the mode of cutting it is as follows. when the rest of the corn has been reaped, a handful is left standing to form the hare. it is divided into three parts and plaited, and the ears are tied in a knot. the reapers then retire a few yards and each throws his or her sickle in turn at the hare to cut it down. it must be cut below the knot, and the reapers continue to throw their sickles at it, one after the other, until one of them succeeds in severing the stalks below the knot. the hare is then carried home and given to a maidservant in the kitchen, who places it over the kitchen-door on the inside. sometimes the hare used to be thus kept till the next harvest. in the parish of minnigaff, when the hare was cut, the unmarried reapers ran home with all speed, and the one who arrived first was the first to be married. in germany also one of the names for the last sheaf is the hare. thus in some parts of anhalt, when the corn has been reaped and only a few stalks are left standing, they say, "the hare will soon come," or the reapers cry to each other, "look how the hare comes jumping out." in east prussia they say that the hare sits in the last patch of standing corn, and must be chased out by the last reaper. the reapers hurry with their work, each being anxious not to have "to chase out the hare"; for the man who does so, that is, who cuts the last corn, is much laughed at. at aurich, as we have seen, an expression for cutting the last corn is "to cut off the hare's tail." "he is killing the hare" is commonly said of the man who cuts the last corn in germany, sweden, holland, france, and italy. in norway the man who is thus said to "kill the hare" must give "hare's blood," in the form of brandy, to his fellows to drink. in lesbos, when the reapers are at work in two neighbouring fields, each party tries to finish first in order to drive the hare into their neighbour's field; the reapers who succeed in doing so believe that next year the crop will be better. a small sheaf of corn is made up and kept beside the holy picture till next harvest. . the corn-spirit as a cat again, the corn-spirit sometimes takes the form of a cat. near kiel children are warned not to go into the corn-fields because "the cat sits there." in the eisenach oberland they are told "the corn-cat will come and fetch you," "the corn-cat goes in the corn." in some parts of silesia at mowing the last corn they say, "the cat is caught"; and at threshing, the man who gives the last stroke is called the cat. in the neighbourhood of lyons the last sheaf and the harvest-supper are both called the cat. about vesoul when they cut the last corn they say, "we have the cat by the tail." at briançon, in dauphiné, at the beginning of reaping, a cat is decked out with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn. it is called the cat of the ball-skin (_le chat de peau de balle_). if a reaper is wounded at his work, they make the cat lick the wound. at the close of the reaping the cat is again decked out with ribbons and ears of corn; then they dance and make merry. when the dance is over the girls solemnly strip the cat of its finery. at grüneberg, in silesia, the reaper who cuts the last corn goes by the name of the tom-cat. he is enveloped in rye-stalks and green withes, and is furnished with a long plaited tail. sometimes as a companion he has a man similarly dressed, who is called the (female) cat. their duty is to run after people whom they see and to beat them with a long stick. near amiens the expression for finishing the harvest is, "they are going to kill the cat"; and when the last corn is cut they kill a cat in the farmyard. at threshing, in some parts of france, a live cat is placed under the last bundle of corn to be threshed, and is struck dead with the flails. then on sunday it is roasted and eaten as a holiday dish. in the vosges mountains the close of haymaking or harvest is called "catching the cat," "killing the dog," or more rarely "catching the hare." the cat, the dog, or the hare is said to be fat or lean according as the crop is good or bad. the man who cuts the last handful of hay or of wheat is said to catch the cat or the hare or to kill the dog. . the corn-spirit as a goat further, the corn-spirit often appears in the form of a goat. in some parts of prussia, when the corn bends before the wind, they say, "the goats are chasing each other," "the wind is driving the goats through the corn," "the goats are browsing there," and they expect a very good harvest. again they say, "the oats-goat is sitting in the oats-field," "the corn-goat is sitting in the rye-field." children are warned not to go into the corn-fields to pluck the blue corn-flowers, or amongst the beans to pluck pods, because the rye-goat, the corn-goat, the oats-goat, or the bean-goat is sitting or lying there, and will carry them away or kill them. when a harvester is taken sick or lags behind his fellows at their work, they call out, "the harvest-goat has pushed him," "he has been pushed by the corn-goat." in the neighbourhood of braunsberg (east prussia) at binding the oats every harvester makes haste "lest the corn-goat push him." at oefoten, in norway, each reaper has his allotted patch to reap. when a reaper in the middle has not finished reaping his piece after his neighbours have finished theirs, they say of him, "he remains on the island." and if the laggard is a man, they imitate the cry with which they call a he-goat; if a woman, the cry with which they call a she-goat. near straubing, in lower bavaria, it is said of the man who cuts the last corn that "he has the corn-goat, or the wheat-goat, or the oats-goat," according to the crop. moreover, two horns are set up on the last heap of corn, and it is called "the horned goat." at kreutzburg, east prussia, they call out to the woman who is binding the last sheaf, "the goat is sitting in the sheaf." at gablingen, in swabia, when the last field of oats upon a farm is being reaped, the reapers carve a goat out of wood. ears of oats are inserted in its nostrils and mouth, and it is adorned with garlands of flowers. it is set up on the field and called the oats-goat. when the reaping approaches an end, each reaper hastens to finish his piece first; he who is the last to finish gets the oats-goat. again, the last sheaf is itself called the goat. thus, in the valley of the wiesent, bavaria, the last sheaf bound on the field is called the goat, and they have a proverb, "the field must bear a goat." at spachbrücken, in hesse, the last handful of corn which is cut is called the goat, and the man who cuts it is much ridiculed. at dürrenbüchig and about mosbach in baden the last sheaf is also called the goat. sometimes the last sheaf is made up in the form of a goat, and they say, "the goat is sitting in it." again, the person who cuts or binds the last sheaf is called the goat. thus, in parts of mecklenburg they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "you are the harvest-goat." near uelzen, in hanover, the harvest festival begins with "the bringing of the harvest-goat"; that is, the woman who bound the last sheaf is wrapt in straw, crowned with a harvest-wreath, and brought in a wheel-barrow to the village, where a round dance takes place. about luneburg, also, the woman who binds the last corn is decked with a crown of corn-ears and is called the corn-goat. at münzesheim in baden the reaper who cuts the last handful of corn or oats is called the corn-goat or the oats-goat. in the canton st. gall, switzerland, the person who cuts the last handful of corn on the field, or drives the last harvest-waggon to the barn, is called the corn-goat or the rye-goat, or simply the goat. in the canton thurgau he is called corn-goat; like a goat he has a bell hung round his neck, is led in triumph, and drenched with liquor. in parts of styria, also, the man who cuts the last corn is called corn-goat, oats-goat, or the like. as a rule, the man who thus gets the name of corn-goat has to bear it a whole year till the next harvest. according to one view, the corn-spirit, who has been caught in the form of a goat or otherwise, lives in the farmhouse or barn over winter. thus, each farm has its own embodiment of the corn-spirit. but, according to another view, the corn-spirit is the genius or deity, not of the corn of one farm only, but of all the corn. hence when the corn on one farm is all cut, he flees to another where there is still corn left standing. this idea is brought out in a harvest-custom which was formerly observed in skye. the farmer who first finished reaping sent a man or woman with a sheaf to a neighbouring farmer who had not finished; the latter in his turn, when he had finished, sent on the sheaf to his neighbour who was still reaping; and so the sheaf made the round of the farms till all the corn was cut. the sheaf was called the _goabbir bhacagh,_ that is, the cripple goat. the custom appears not to be extinct at the present day, for it was reported from skye not very many years ago. the corn-spirit was probably thus represented as lame because he had been crippled by the cutting of the corn. sometimes the old woman who brings home the last sheaf must limp on one foot. but sometimes the corn-spirit, in the form of a goat, is believed to be slain on the harvest-field by the sickle or scythe. thus, in the neighbourhood of bernkastel, on the moselle, the reapers determine by lot the order in which they shall follow each other. the first is called the fore-reaper, the last the tail-bearer. if a reaper overtakes the man in front he reaps past him, bending round so as to leave the slower reaper in a patch by himself. this patch is called the goat; and the man for whom "the goat is cut" in this way, is laughed and jeered at by his fellows for the rest of the day. when the tail-bearer cuts the last ears of corn, it is said, "he is cutting the goat's neck off." in the neighbourhood of grenoble, before the end of the reaping, a live goat is adorned with flowers and ribbons and allowed to run about the field. the reapers chase it and try to catch it. when it is caught, the farmer's wife holds it fast while the farmer cuts off its head. the goat's flesh serves to furnish the harvest-supper. a piece of the flesh is pickled and kept till the next harvest, when another goat is killed. then all the harvesters eat of the flesh. on the same day the skin of the goat is made into a cloak, which the farmer, who works with his men, must always wear at harvest-time if rain or bad weather sets in. but if a reaper gets pains in his back, the farmer gives him the goat-skin to wear. the reason for this seems to be that the pains in the back, being inflicted by the corn-spirit, can also be healed by it. similarly, we saw that elsewhere, when a reaper is wounded at reaping, a cat, as the representative of the corn-spirit, is made to lick the wound. esthonian reapers of the island of mon think that the man who cuts the first ears of corn at harvest will get pains in his back, probably because the corn-spirit is believed to resent especially the first wound; and, in order to escape pains in the back, saxon reapers in transylvania gird their loins with the first handful of ears which they cut. here, again, the corn-spirit is applied to for healing or protection, but in his original vegetable form, not in the form of a goat or a cat. further, the corn-spirit under the form of a goat is sometimes conceived as lurking among the cut corn in the barn, till he is driven from it by the threshing-flail. thus in baden the last sheaf to be threshed is called the corn-goat, the spelt-goat, or the oats-goat according to the kind of grain. again, near marktl, in upper bavaria, the sheaves are called straw-goats or simply goats. they are laid in a great heap on the open field and threshed by two rows of men standing opposite each other, who, as they ply their flails, sing a song in which they say that they see the straw-goat amongst the corn-stalks. the last goat, that is, the last sheaf, is adorned with a wreath of violets and other flowers and with cakes strung together. it is placed right in the middle of the heap. some of the threshers rush at it and tear the best of it out; others lay on with their flails so recklessly that heads are sometimes broken. at oberinntal, in the tyrol, the last thresher is called goat. so at haselberg, in west bohemia, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing oats is called the oats-goat. at tettnang, in würtemburg, the thresher who gives the last stroke to the last bundle of corn before it is turned goes by the name of the he-goat, and it is said, "he has driven the he-goat away." the person who, after the bundle has been turned, gives the last stroke of all, is called the she-goat. in this custom it is implied that the corn is inhabited by a pair of corn-spirits, male and female. further, the corn-spirit, captured in the form of a goat at threshing, is passed on to a neighbour whose threshing is not yet finished. in franche comté, as soon as the threshing is over, the young people set up a straw figure of a goat on the farmyard of a neighbour who is still threshing. he must give them wine or money in return. at ellwangen, in würtemburg, the effigy of a goat is made out of the last bundle of corn at threshing; four sticks form its legs, and two its horns. the man who gives the last stroke with the flail must carry the goat to the barn of a neighbour who is still threshing and throw it down on the floor; if he is caught in the act, they tie the goat on his back. a similar custom is observed at indersdorf, in upper bavaria; the man who throws the straw goat into the neighbour's barn imitates the bleating of a goat; if they catch him, they blacken his face and tie the goat on his back. at saverne, in alsace, when a farmer is a week or more behind his neighbours with his threshing, they set a real stuffed goat or fox before his door. sometimes the spirit of the corn in goat form is believed to be killed at threshing. in the district of traunstein, upper bavaria, they think that the oats-goat is in the last sheaf of oats. he is represented by an old rake set up on end, with an old pot for a head. the children are then told to kill the oats-goat. . the corn-spirit as a bull, cow, or ox another form which the corn-spirit often assumes is that of a bull, cow, or ox. when the wind sweeps over the corn they say at conitz, in west prussia, "the steer is running in the corn"; when the corn is thick and strong in one spot, they say in some parts of east prussia, "the bull is lying in the corn." when a harvester has overstrained and lamed himself, they say in the graudenz district of west prussia, "the bull pushed him"; in lorraine they say, "he has the bull." the meaning of both expressions is that he has unwittingly lighted upon the divine corn-spirit, who has punished the profane intruder with lameness. so near chambéry when a reaper wounds himself with his sickle, it is said that he has "the wound of the ox." in the district of bunzlau (silesia) the last sheaf is sometimes made into the shape of a horned ox, stuffed with tow and wrapt in corn-ears. this figure is called the old man. in some parts of bohemia the last sheaf is made up in human form and called the buffalo-bull. these cases show a confusion of the human with the animal shape of the corn-spirit. the confusion is like that of killing a wether under the name of a wolf. all over swabia the last bundle of corn on the field is called the cow; the man who cuts the last ears "has the cow," and is himself called cow or barley-cow or oats-cow, according to the crop; at the harvest-supper he gets a nosegay of flowers and corn-ears and a more liberal allowance of drink than the rest. but he is teased and laughed at; so no one likes to be the cow. the cow was sometimes represented by the figure of a woman made out of ears of corn and corn-flowers. it was carried to the farmhouse by the man who had cut the last handful of corn. the children ran after him and the neighbours turned out to laugh at him, till the farmer took the cow from him. here again the confusion between the human and the animal form of the corn-spirit is apparent. in various parts of switzerland the reaper who cuts the last ears of corn is called wheat-cow, corn-cow, oats-cow, or corn-steer, and is the butt of many a joke. on the other hand, in the district of rosenheim, upper bavaria, when a farmer is later of getting in his harvest than his neighbours, they set up on his land a straw-bull, as it is called. this is a gigantic figure of a bull made of stubble on a framework of wood and adorned with flowers and leaves. attached to it is a label on which are scrawled doggerel verses in ridicule of the man on whose land the straw-bull is set up. again, the corn-spirit in the form of a bull or ox is killed on the harvest-field at the close of the reaping. at pouilly, near dijon, when the last ears of corn are about to be cut, an ox adorned with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn is led all round the field, followed by the whole troop of reapers dancing. then a man disguised as the devil cuts the last ears of corn and immediately slaughters the ox. part of the flesh of the animal is eaten at the harvest-supper; part is pickled and kept till the first day of sowing in spring. at pont à mousson and elsewhere on the evening of the last day of reaping, a calf adorned with flowers and ears of corn is led thrice round the farmyard, being allured by a bait or driven by men with sticks, or conducted by the farmer's wife with a rope. the calf chosen for this ceremony is the calf which was born first on the farm in the spring of the year. it is followed by all the reapers with their tools. then it is allowed to run free; the reapers chase it, and whoever catches it is called king of the calf. lastly, it is solemnly killed; at lunéville the man who acts as butcher is the jewish merchant of the village. sometimes again the corn-spirit hides himself amongst the cut corn in the barn to reappear in bull or cow form at threshing. thus at wurmlingen, in thüringen, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the cow, or rather the barley-cow, oats-cow, peas-cow, or the like, according to the crop. he is entirely enveloped in straw; his head is surmounted by sticks in imitation of horns, and two lads lead him by ropes to the well to drink. on the way thither he must low like a cow, and for a long time afterwards he goes by the name of the cow. at obermedlingen, in swabia, when the threshing draws near an end, each man is careful to avoid giving the last stroke. he who does give it "gets the cow," which is a straw figure dressed in an old ragged petticoat, hood, and stockings. it is tied on his back with a straw-rope; his face is blackened, and being bound with straw-ropes to a wheelbarrow he is wheeled round the village. here, again, we meet with that confusion between the human and animal shape of the corn-spirit which we have noted in other customs. in canton schaffhausen the man who threshes the last corn is called the cow; in canton thurgau, the corn-bull; in canton zurich, the thresher-cow. in the last-mentioned district he is wrapt in straw and bound to one of the trees in the orchard. at arad, in hungary, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is enveloped in straw and a cow's hide with the horns attached to it. at pessnitz, in the district of dresden, the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is called bull. he must make a straw-man and set it up before a neighbour's window. here, apparently, as in so many cases, the corn-spirit is passed on to a neighbour who has not finished threshing. so at herbrechtingen, in thüringen, the effigy of a ragged old woman is flung into the barn of the farmer who is last with his threshing. the man who throws it in cries, "there is the cow for you." if the threshers catch him they detain him over night and punish him by keeping him from the harvest-supper. in these latter customs the confusion between the human and the animal shape of the corn-spirit meets us again. further, the corn-spirit in bull form is sometimes believed to be killed at threshing. at auxerre, in threshing the last bundle of corn, they call out twelve times, "we are killing the bull." in the neighbourhood of bordeaux, where a butcher kills an ox on the field immediately after the close of the reaping, it is said of the man who gives the last stroke at threshing that "he has killed the bull." at chambéry the last sheaf is called the sheaf of the young ox, and a race takes place to it in which all the reapers join. when the last stroke is given at threshing they say that "the ox is killed"; and immediately thereupon a real ox is slaughtered by the reaper who cut the last corn. the flesh of the ox is eaten by the threshers at supper. we have seen that sometimes the young corn-spirit, whose task it is to quicken the corn of the coming year, is believed to be born as a corn-baby on the harvest-field. similarly in berry the young corn-spirit is sometimes supposed to be born on the field in calf form; for when a binder has not rope enough to bind all the corn in sheaves, he puts aside the wheat that remains over and imitates the lowing of a cow. the meaning is that "the sheaf has given birth to a calf." in puy-de-dôme when a binder cannot keep up with the reaper whom he or she follows, they say "he (or she) is giving birth to the calf." in some parts of prussia, in similar circumstances, they call out to the woman, "the bull is coming," and imitate the bellowing of a bull. in these cases the woman is conceived as the corn-cow or old corn-spirit, while the supposed calf is the corn-calf or young corn-spirit. in some parts of austria a mythical calf (_muhkälbchen_) is believed to be seen amongst the sprouting corn in spring and to push the children; when the corn waves in the wind they say, "the calf is going about." clearly, as mannhardt observes, this calf of the spring-time is the same animal which is afterwards believed to be killed at reaping. . the corn-spirit as a horse or mare sometimes the corn-spirit appears in the shape of a horse or mare. between kalw and stuttgart, when the corn bends before the wind, they say, "there runs the horse." at bohlingen, near radolfzell in baden, the last sheaf of oats is called the oats-stallion. in hertfordshire, at the end of the reaping, there is or used to be observed a ceremony called "crying the mare." the last blades of corn left standing on the field are tied together and called the mare. the reapers stand at a distance and throw their sickles at it; he who cuts it through "has the prize, with acclamations and good cheer." after it is cut the reapers cry thrice with a loud voice, "i have her!" others answer thrice, "what have you?"--"a mare! a mare! a mare!"--"whose is she?" is next asked thrice. "a. b.'s," naming the owner thrice. "whither will you send her?"--"to c. d.," naming some neighbour who has not reaped all his corn. in this custom the corn-spirit in the form of a mare is passed on from a farm where the corn is all cut to another farm where it is still standing, and where therefore the corn-spirit may be supposed naturally to take refuge. in shropshire the custom is similar. the farmer who finishes his harvest last, and who therefore cannot send the mare to any one else, is said "to keep her all winter." the mocking offer of the mare to a laggard neighbour was sometimes responded to by a mocking acceptance of her help. thus an old man told an inquirer, "while we wun at supper, a mon cumm'd wi' a autar [halter] to fatch her away." at one place a real mare used to be sent, but the man who rode her was subjected to some rough treatment at the farmhouse to which he paid his unwelcome visit. in the neighbourhood of lille the idea of the corn-spirit in horse form in clearly preserved. when a harvester grows weary at his work, it is said, "he has the fatigue of the horse." the first sheaf, called the "cross of the horse," is placed on a cross of boxwood in the barn, and the youngest horse on the farm must tread on it. the reapers dance round the last blades of corn, crying, "see the remains of the horse." the sheaf made out of these last blades is given to the youngest horse of the parish (_commune_) to eat. this youngest horse of the parish clearly represents, as mannhardt says, the corn-spirit of the following year, the corn-foal, which absorbs the spirit of the old corn-horse by eating the last corn cut; for, as usual, the old corn-spirit takes his final refuge in the last sheaf. the thresher of the last sheaf is said to "beat the horse." . the corn-spirit as a pig (boar or sow) the last animal embodiment of the corn-spirit which we shall notice is the pig (boar or sow). in thüringen, when the wind sets the young corn in motion, they sometimes say, "the boar is rushing through the corn." amongst the esthonians of the island of oesel the last sheaf is called the ryeboar, and the man who gets it is saluted with a cry of "you have the rye-boar on your back!" in reply he strikes up a song, in which he prays for plenty. at kohlerwinkel, near augsburg, at the close of the harvest, the last bunch of standing corn is cut down, stalk by stalk, by all the reapers in turn. he who cuts the last stalk "gets the sow," and is laughed at. in other swabian villages also the man who cuts the last corn "has the sow," or "has the rye-sow." at bohlingen, near radolfzell in baden, the last sheaf is called the rye-sow or the wheat-sow, according to the crop; and at röhrenbach in baden the person who brings the last armful for the last sheaf is called the corn-sow or the oats-sow. at friedingen, in swabia, the thresher who gives the last stroke is called sow--barley-sow, corn-sow, or the like, according to the crop. at onstmettingen the man who gives the last stroke at threshing "has the sow"; he is often bound up in a sheaf and dragged by a rope along the ground. and, generally, in swabia the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is called sow. he may, however, rid himself of this invidious distinction by passing on to a neighbour the straw-rope, which is the badge of his position as sow. so he goes to a house and throws the straw-rope into it, crying, "there, i bring you the sow." all the inmates give chase; and if they catch him they beat him, shut him up for several hours in the pig-sty, and oblige him to take the "sow" away again. in various parts of upper bavaria the man who gives the last stroke at threshing must "carry the pig"--that is, either a straw effigy of a pig or merely a bundle of straw-ropes. this he carries to a neighbouring farm where the threshing is not finished, and throws it into the barn. if the threshers catch him they handle him roughly, beating him, blackening or dirtying his face, throwing him into filth, binding the sow on his back, and so on; if the bearer of the sow is a woman they cut off her hair. at the harvest supper or dinner the man who "carried the pig" gets one or more dumplings made in the form of pigs. when the dumplings are served up by the maidservant, all the people at table cry "süz, süz, süz !" that being the cry used in calling pigs. sometimes after dinner the man who "carried the pig" has his face blackened, and is set on a cart and drawn round the village by his fellows, followed by a crowd crying "süz, süz, süz !" as if they were calling swine. sometimes, after being wheeled round the village, he is flung on the dunghill. again, the corn-spirit in the form of a pig plays his part at sowing-time as well as at harvest. at neuautz, in courland, when barley is sown for the first time in the year, the farmer's wife boils the chine of a pig along with the tail, and brings it to the sower on the field. he eats of it, but cuts off the tail and sticks it in the field; it is believed that the ears of corn will then grow as long as the tail. here the pig is the corn-spirit, whose fertilising power is sometimes supposed to lie especially in his tail. as a pig he is put in the ground at sowing-time, and as a pig he reappears amongst the ripe corn at harvest. for amongst the neighbouring esthonians, as we have seen, the last sheaf is called the rye-boar. somewhat similar customs are observed in germany. in the salza district, near meiningen, a certain bone in the pig is called "the jew on the winnowing-fan." the flesh of this bone is boiled on shrove tuesday, but the bone is put amongst the ashes which the neighbours exchange as presents on st. peter's day (the twenty-second of february), and then mix with the seedcorn. in the whole of hesse, meiningen, and other districts, people eat pea-soup with dried pig-ribs on ash wednesday or candlemas. the ribs are then collected and hung in the room till sowing-time, when they are inserted in the sown field or in the seed-bag amongst the flax seed. this is thought to be an infallible specific against earth-fleas and moles, and to cause the flax to grow well and tall. but the idea of the corn-spirit as embodied in pig form is nowhere more clearly expressed than in the scandinavian custom of the yule boar. in sweden and denmark at yule (christmas) it is the custom to bake a loaf in the form of a boar-pig. this is called the yule boar. the corn of the last sheaf is often used to make it. all through yule the yule boar stands on the table. often it is kept till the sowing-time in spring, when part of it is mixed with the seed-corn and part given to the ploughman and plough-horses or ploughoxen to eat, in the expectation of a good harvest. in this custom the corn-spirit, immanent in the last sheaf, appears at midwinter in the form of a boar made from the corn of the last sheaf; and his quickening influence on the corn is shown by mixing part of the yule boar with the seed-corn, and giving part of it to the ploughman and his cattle to eat. similarly we saw that the corn-wolf makes his appearance at mid-winter, the time when the year begins to verge towards spring. formerly a real boar was sacrificed at christmas, and apparently also a man in the character of the yule boar. this, at least, may perhaps be inferred from a christmas custom still observed in sweden. a man is wrapt up in a skin, and carries a wisp of straw in his mouth, so that the projecting straws look like the bristles of a boar. a knife is brought, and an old woman, with her face blackened, pretends to sacrifice him. on christmas eve in some parts of the esthonian island of oesel they bake a long cake with the two ends turned up. it is called the christmas boar, and stands on the table till the morning of new year's day, when it is distributed among the cattle. in other parts of the island the christmas boar is not a cake but a little pig born in march, which the housewife fattens secretly, often without the knowledge of the other members of the family. on christmas eve the little pig is secretly killed, then roasted in the oven, and set on the table standing on all fours, where it remains in this posture for several days. in other parts of the island, again, though the christmas cake has neither the name nor the shape of a boar, it is kept till the new year, when half of it is divided among all the members and all the quadrupeds of the family. the other half of the cake is kept till sowing-time comes round, when it is similarly distributed in the morning among human beings and beasts. in other parts of esthonia, again, the christmas boar, as it is called, is baked of the first rye cut at harvest; it has a conical shape and a cross is impressed on it with a pig's bone or a key, or three dints are made in it with a buckle or a piece of charcoal. it stands with a light beside it on the table all through the festal season. on new year's day and epiphany, before sunrise, a little of the cake is crumbled with salt and given to the cattle. the rest is kept till the day when the cattle are driven out to pasture for the first time in spring. it is then put in the herdsman's bag, and at evening is divided among the cattle to guard them from magic and harm. in some places the christmas boar is partaken of by farm-servants and cattle at the time of the barley sowing, for the purpose of thereby producing a heavier crop. . on the animal embodiments of the corn-spirit so much for the animal embodiments of the corn-spirit as they are presented to us in the folk-customs of northern europe. these customs bring out clearly the sacramental character of the harvest-supper. the corn-spirit is conceived as embodied in an animal; this divine animal is slain, and its flesh and blood are partaken of by the harvesters. thus the cock, the hare, the cat, the goat, and the ox are eaten sacramentally by the harvester, and the pig is eaten sacramentally by ploughmen in spring. again, as a substitute for the real flesh of the divine being, bread or dumplings are made in his image and eaten sacramentally; thus, pig-shaped dumplings are eaten by the harvesters, and loaves made in boar-shape (the yule boar) are eaten in spring by the ploughman and his cattle. the reader has probably remarked the complete parallelism between the conceptions of the corn-spirit in human and in animal form. the parallel may be here briefly resumed. when the corn waves in the wind it is said either that the corn-mother or that the corn-wolf, etc., is passing through the corn. children are warned against straying in corn-fields either because the corn-mother or because the corn-wolf, etc., is there. in the last corn cut or the last sheaf threshed either the corn-mother or the corn-wolf, etc., is supposed to be present. the last sheaf is itself called either the corn-mother or the corn-wolf, etc., and is made up in the shape either of a woman or of a wolf, etc. the person who cuts, binds, or threshes the last sheaf is called either the old woman or the wolf, etc., according to the name bestowed on the sheaf itself. as in some places a sheaf made in human form and called the maiden, the mother of the maize, etc., is kept from one harvest to the next in order to secure a continuance of the corn-spirit's blessing, so in some places the harvest-cock and in others the flesh of the goat is kept for a similar purpose from one harvest to the next. as in some places the grain taken from the corn-mother is mixed with the seed-corn in spring to make the crop abundant, so in some places the feathers of the cock, and in sweden the yule boar, are kept till spring and mixed with the seed-corn for a like purpose. as part of the corn-mother or maiden is given to the cattle at christmas or to the horses at the first ploughing, so part of the yule boar is given to the ploughing horses or oxen in spring. lastly, the death of the corn-spirit is represented by killing or pretending to kill either his human or his animal representative; and the worshippers partake sacramentally either of the actual body and blood of the representative of the divinity, or of bread made in his likeness. other animal forms assumed by the corn-spirit are the fox, stag, roe, sheep, bear, ass, mouse, quail, stork, swan, and kite. if it is asked why the corn-spirit should be thought to appear in the form of an animal and of so many different animals, we may reply that to primitive man the simple appearance of an animal or bird among the corn is probably enough to suggest a mysterious link between the creature and the corn; and when we remember that in the old days, before fields were fenced in, all kinds of animals must have been free to roam over them, we need not wonder that the corn-spirit should have been identified even with large animals like the horse and cow, which nowadays could not, except by a rare accident, be found straying in an english corn-field. this explanation applies with peculiar force to the very common case in which the animal embodiment of the corn-spirit is believed to lurk in the last standing corn. for at harvest a number of wild animals, such as hares, rabbits, and partridges, are commonly driven by the progress of the reaping into the last patch of standing corn, and make their escape from it as it is being cut down. so regularly does this happen that reapers and others often stand round the last patch of corn armed with sticks or guns, with which they kill the animals as they dart out of their last refuge among the stalks. now, primitive man, to whom magical changes of shape seem perfectly credible, finds it most natural that the spirit of the corn, driven from his home in the ripe grain, should make his escape in the form of the animal which is seen to rush out of the last patch of corn as it falls under the scythe of the reaper. thus the identification of the corn-spirit with an animal is analogous to the identification of him with a passing stranger. as the sudden appearance of a stranger near the harvest-field or threshing-floor is, to the primitive mind, enough to identify him as the spirit of the corn escaping from the cut or threshed corn, so the sudden appearance of an animal issuing from the cut corn is enough to identify it with the corn-spirit escaping from his ruined home. the two identifications are so analogous that they can hardly be dissociated in any attempt to explain them. those who look to some other principle than the one here suggested for the explanation of the latter identification are bound to show that their theory covers the former identification also. xlix. ancient deities of vegetation as animals . dionysus, the goat and the bull however we may explain it, the fact remains that in peasant folk-lore the corn-spirit is very commonly conceived and represented in animal form. may not this fact explain the relation in which certain animals stood to the ancient deities of vegetation, dionysus, demeter, adonis, attis, and osiris? to begin with dionysus. we have seen that he was represented sometimes as a goat and sometimes as a bull. as a goat he can hardly be separated from the minor divinities, the pans, satyrs, and silenuses, all of whom are closely associated with him and are represented more or less completely in the form of goats. thus, pan was regularly portrayed in sculpture and painting with the face and legs of a goat. the satyrs were depicted with pointed goat-ears, and sometimes with sprouting horns and short tails. they were sometimes spoken of simply as goats; and in the drama their parts were played by men dressed in goatskins. silenus is represented in art clad in a goatskin. further, the fauns, the italian counterpart of the greek pans and satyrs, are described as being half goats, with goat-feet and goat-horns. again, all these minor goat-formed divinities partake more or less clearly of the character of woodland deities. thus, pan was called by the arcadians the lord of the wood. the silenuses kept company with the tree-nymphs. the fauns are expressly designated as woodland deities; and their character as such is still further brought out by their association, or even identification, with silvanus and the silvanuses, who, as their name of itself indicates, are spirits of the woods. lastly, the association of the satyrs with the silenuses, fauns, and silvanuses, proves that the satyrs also were woodland deities. these goat-formed spirits of the woods have their counterparts in the folk-lore of northern europe. thus, the russian wood-spirits, called _ljeschie_ (from _ljes,_ "wood"), are believed to appear partly in human shape, but with the horns, ears, and legs of goats. the _ljeschi_ can alter his stature at pleasure; when he walks in the wood he is as tall as the trees; when he walks in the meadows he is no higher than the grass. some of the _ljeschie_ are spirits of the corn as well as of the wood; before harvest they are as tall as the corn-stalks, but after it they shrink to the height of the stubble. this brings out--what we have remarked before--the close connexion between tree-spirits and corn-spirits, and shows how easily the former may melt into the latter. similarly the fauns, though wood-spirits, were believed to foster the growth of the crops. we have already seen how often the corn-spirit is represented in folk-custom as a goat. on the whole, then, as mannhardt argues, the pans, satyrs, and fauns perhaps belong to a widely diffused class of wood-spirits conceived in goat-form. the fondness of goats for straying in woods and nibbling the bark of trees, to which indeed they are most destructive, is an obvious and perhaps sufficient reason why wood-spirits should so often be supposed to take the form of goats. the inconsistency of a god of vegetation subsisting upon the vegetation which he personifies is not one to strike the primitive mind. such inconsistencies arise when the deity, ceasing to be immanent in the vegetation, comes to be regarded as its owner or lord; for the idea of owning the vegetation naturally leads to that of subsisting on it. sometimes the corn-spirit, originally conceived as immanent in the corn, afterwards comes to be regarded as its owner, who lives on it and is reduced to poverty and want by being deprived of it. hence he is often known as "the poor man" or "the poor woman." occasionally the last sheaf is left standing on the field for "the poor old woman" or for "the old rye-woman." thus the representation of wood-spirits in the form of goats appears to be both widespread and, to the primitive mind, natural. therefore when we find, as we have done, that dionysus--a tree-god--is sometimes represented in goat-form, we can hardly avoid concluding that this representation is simply a part of his proper character as a tree-god and is not to be explained by the fusion of two distinct and independent worships, in one of which he originally appeared as a tree-god and in the other as a goat. dionysus was also figured, as we have seen, in the shape of a bull. after what has gone before we are naturally led to expect that his bull form must have been only another expression for his character as a deity of vegetation, especially as the bull is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit in northern europe; and the close association of dionysus with demeter and persephone in the mysteries of eleusis shows that he had at least strong agricultural affinities. the probability of this view will be somewhat increased if it can be shown that in other rites than those of dionysus the ancients slew an ox as a representative of the spirit of vegetation. this they appear to have done in the athenian sacrifice known as "the murder of the ox" (_bouphonia_). it took place about the end of june or beginning of july, that is, about the time when the threshing is nearly over in attica. according to tradition the sacrifice was instituted to procure a cessation of drought and dearth which had afflicted the land. the ritual was as follows. barley mixed with wheat, or cakes made of them, were laid upon the bronze altar of zeus polieus on the acropolis. oxen were driven round the altar, and the ox which went up to the altar and ate the offering on it was sacrificed. the axe and knife with which the beast was slain had been previously wetted with water brought by maidens called "water-carriers." the weapons were then sharpened and handed to the butchers, one of whom felled the ox with the axe and another cut its throat with the knife. as soon as he had felled the ox, the former threw the axe from him and fled; and the man who cut the beast's throat apparently imitated his example. meantime the ox was skinned and all present partook of its flesh. then the hide was stuffed with straw and sewed up; next the stuffed animal was set on its feet and yoked to a plough as if it were ploughing. a trial then took place in an ancient law-court presided over by the king (as he was called) to determine who had murdered the ox. the maidens who had brought the water accused the men who had sharpened the axe and knife; the men who had sharpened the axe and knife blamed the men who had handed these implements to the butchers; the men who had handed the implements to the butchers blamed the butchers; and the butchers laid the blame on the axe and knife, which were accordingly found guilty, condemned, and cast into the sea. the name of this sacrifice,-- "the _murder_ of the ox,"--the pains taken by each person who had a hand in the slaughter to lay the blame on some one else, together with the formal trial and punishment of the axe or knife or both, prove that the ox was here regarded not merely as a victim offered to a god, but as itself a sacred creature, the slaughter of which was sacrilege or murder. this is borne out by a statement of varro that to kill an ox was formerly a capital crime in attica. the mode of selecting the victim suggests that the ox which tasted the corn was viewed as the corn-deity taking possession of his own. this interpretation is supported by the following custom. in beauce, in the district of orleans, on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth of april they make a straw man called "the great _mondard._" for they say that the old _mondard_ is now dead and it is necessary to make a new one. the straw man is carried in solemn procession up and down the village and at last is placed upon the oldest apple-tree. there he remains till the apples are gathered, when he is taken down and thrown into the water, or he is burned and his ashes cast into water. but the person who plucks the first fruit from the tree succeeds to the title of "the great _mondard._" here the straw figure, called "the great _mondard_" and placed on the oldest apple-tree in spring, represents the spirit of the tree, who, dead in winter, revives when the apple-blossoms appear on the boughs. thus the person who plucks the first fruit from the tree and thereby receives the name of "the great _mondard_" must be regarded as a representative of the tree-spirit. primitive peoples are usually reluctant to taste the annual first-fruits of any crop, until some ceremony has been performed which makes it safe and pious for them to do so. the reason of this reluctance appears to be a belief that the first-fruits either belong to or actually contain a divinity. therefore when a man or animal is seen boldly to appropriate the sacred first-fruits, he or it is naturally regarded as the divinity himself in human or animal form taking possession of his own. the time of the athenian sacrifice, which fell about the close of the threshing, suggests that the wheat and barley laid upon the altar were a harvest offering; and the sacramental character of the subsequent repast--all partaking of the flesh of the divine animal--would make it parallel to the harvest-suppers of modern europe, in which, as we have seen, the flesh of the animal which stands for the corn-spirit is eaten by the harvesters. again, the tradition that the sacrifice was instituted in order to put an end to drought and famine is in favour of taking it as a harvest festival. the resurrection of the corn-spirit, enacted by setting up the stuffed ox and yoking it to the plough, may be compared with the resurrection of the tree-spirit in the person of his representative, the wild man. the ox appears as a representative of the corn-spirit in other parts of the world. at great bassam, in guinea, two oxen are slain annually to procure a good harvest. if the sacrifice is to be effectual, it is necessary that the oxen should weep. so all the women of the village sit in front of the beasts, chanting, "the ox will weep; yes, he will weep!" from time to time one of the women walks round the beasts, throwing manioc meal or palm wine upon them, especially into their eyes. when tears roll down from the eyes of the oxen, the people dance, singing, "the ox weeps! the ox weeps!" then two men seize the tails of the beasts and cut them off at one blow. it is believed that a great misfortune will happen in the course of the year if the tails are not severed at one blow. the oxen are afterwards killed, and their flesh is eaten by the chiefs. here the tears of the oxen, like those of the human victims amongst the khonds and the aztecs, are probably a rain-charm. we have already seen that the virtue of the corn-spirit, embodied in animal form, is sometimes supposed to reside in the tail, and that the last handful of corn is sometimes conceived as the tail of the corn-spirit. in the mithraic religion this conception is graphically set forth in some of the numerous sculptures which represent mithras kneeling on the back of a bull and plunging a knife into its flank; for on certain of these monuments the tail of the bull ends in three stalks of corn, and in one of them corn-stalks instead of blood are seen issuing from the wound inflicted by the knife. such representations certainly suggest that the bull, whose sacrifice appears to have formed a leading feature in the mithraic ritual, was conceived, in one at least of its aspects, as an incarnation of the corn-spirit. still more clearly does the ox appear as a personification of the corn-spirit in a ceremony which is observed in all the provinces and districts of china to welcome the approach of spring. on the first day of spring, usually on the third or fourth of february, which is also the beginning of the chinese new year, the governor or prefect of the city goes in procession to the east gate of the city, and sacrifices to the divine husbandman, who is represented with a bull's head on the body of a man. a large effigy of an ox, cow, or buffalo has been prepared for the occasion, and stands outside of the east gate, with agricultural implements beside it. the figure is made of differently-coloured pieces of paper pasted on a framework either by a blind man or according to the directions of a necromancer. the colours of the paper prognosticate the character of the coming year; if red prevails, there will be many fires; if white, there will be floods and rain; and so with the other colours. the mandarins walk slowly round the ox, beating it severely at each step with rods of various hues. it is filled with five kinds of grain, which pour forth when the effigy is broken by the blows of the rods. the paper fragments are then set on fire, and a scramble takes place for the burning fragments, because the people believe that whoever gets one of them is sure to be fortunate throughout the year. a live buffalo is next killed, and its flesh is divided among the mandarins. according to one account, the effigy of the ox is made of clay, and, after being beaten by the governor, is stoned by the people till they break it in pieces, "from which they expect an abundant year." here the corn-spirit appears to be plainly represented by the corn-filled ox, whose fragments may therefore be supposed to bring fertility with them. on the whole we may perhaps conclude that both as a goat and as a bull dionysus was essentially a god of vegetation. the chinese and european customs which i have cited may perhaps shed light on the custom of rending a live bull or goat at the rites of dionysus. the animal was torn in fragments, as the khond victim was cut in pieces, in order that the worshippers might each secure a portion of the life-giving and fertilising influence of the god. the flesh was eaten raw as a sacrament, and we may conjecture that some of it was taken home to be buried in the fields, or otherwise employed so as to convey to the fruits of the earth the quickening influence of the god of vegetation. the resurrection of dionysus, related in his myth, may have been enacted in his rites by stuffing and setting up the slain ox, as was done at the athenian _bouphonia._ . demeter, the pig and the horse passing next to the corn-goddess demeter, and remembering that in european folk-lore the pig is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit, we may now ask whether the pig, which was so closely associated with demeter, may not have been originally the goddess herself in animal form. the pig was sacred to her; in art she was portrayed carrying or accompanied by a pig; and the pig was regularly sacrificed in her mysteries, the reason assigned being that the pig injures the corn and is therefore an enemy of the goddess. but after an animal has been conceived as a god, or a god as an animal, it sometimes happens, as we have seen, that the god sloughs off his animal form and becomes purely anthropomorphic; and that then the animal, which at first had been slain in the character of the god, comes to be viewed as a victim offered to the god on the ground of its hostility to the deity; in short, the god is sacrificed to himself on the ground that he is his own enemy. this happened to dionysus, and it may have happened to demeter also. and in fact the rites of one of her festivals, the thesmophoria, bear out the view that originally the pig was an embodiment of the corn-goddess herself, either demeter or her daughter and double persephone. the attic thesmophoria was an autumn festival, celebrated by women alone in october, and appears to have represented with mourning rites the descent of persephone (or demeter) into the lower world, and with joy her return from the dead. hence the name descent or ascent variously applied to the first, and the name _kalligeneia_ (fair-born) applied to the third day of the festival. now it was customary at the thesmophoria to throw pigs, cakes of dough, and branches of pine-trees into "the chasms of demeter and persephone," which appear to have been sacred caverns or vaults. in these caverns or vaults there were said to be serpents, which guarded the caverns and consumed most of the flesh of the pigs and dough-cakes which were thrown in. afterwards--apparently at the next annual festival--the decayed remains of the pigs, the cakes, and the pine-branches were fetched by women called "drawers," who, after observing rules of ceremonial purity for three days, descended into the caverns, and, frightening away the serpents by clapping their hands, brought up the remains and placed them on the altar. whoever got a piece of the decayed flesh and cakes, and sowed it with the seed-corn in his field, was believed to be sure of a good crop. to explain the rude and ancient ritual of the thesmophoria the following legend was told. at the moment when pluto carried off persephone, a swineherd called eubuleus chanced to be herding his swine on the spot, and his herd was engulfed in the chasm down which pluto vanished with persephone. accordingly at the thesmophoria pigs were annually thrown into caverns to commemorate the disappearance of the swine of eubuleus. it follows from this that the casting of the pigs into the vaults at the thesmophoria formed part of the dramatic representation of persephone's descent into the lower world; and as no image of persephone appears to have been thrown in, we may infer that the descent of the pigs was not so much an accompaniment of her descent as the descent itself, in short, that the pigs were persephone. afterwards when persephone or demeter (for the two are equivalent) took on human form, a reason had to be found for the custom of throwing pigs into caverns at her festival; and this was done by saying that when pluto carried off persephone there happened to be some swine browsing near, which were swallowed up along with her. the story is obviously a forced and awkward attempt to bridge over the gulf between the old conception of the corn-spirit as a pig and the new conception of her as an anthropomorphic goddess. a trace of the older conception survived in the legend that when the sad mother was searching for traces of the vanished persephone, the footprints of the lost one were obliterated by the footprints of a pig; originally, we may conjecture, the footprints of the pig were the footprints of persephone and of demeter herself. a consciousness of the intimate connexion of the pig with the corn lurks in the legend that the swineherd eubuleus was a brother of triptolemus, to whom demeter first imparted the secret of the corn. indeed, according to one version of the story, eubuleus himself received, jointly with his brother triptolemus, the gift of the corn from demeter as a reward for revealing to her the fate of persephone. further, it is to be noted that at the thesmophoria the women appear to have eaten swine's flesh. the meal, if i am right, must have been a solemn sacrament or communion, the worshippers partaking of the body of the god. as thus explained, the thesmophoria has its analogies in the folk-customs of northern europe which have been already described. just as at the thesmophoria--an autumn festival in honour of the corn-goddess--swine's flesh was partly eaten, partly kept in caverns till the following year, when it was taken up to be sown with the seed-corn in the fields for the purpose of securing a good crop; so in the neighbourhood of grenoble the goat killed on the harvest-field is partly eaten at the harvest-supper, partly pickled and kept till the next harvest; so at pouilly the ox killed on the harvest-field is partly eaten by the harvesters, partly pickled and kept till the first day of sowing in spring, probably to be then mixed with the seed, or eaten by the ploughmen, or both; so at udvarhely the feathers of the cock which is killed in the last sheaf at harvest are kept till spring, and then sown with the seed on the field; so in hesse and meiningen the flesh of pigs is eaten on ash wednesday or candlemas, and the bones are kept till sowing-time, when they are put into the field sown or mixed with the seed in the bag; so, lastly, the corn from the last sheaf is kept till christmas, made into the yule boar, and afterwards broken and mixed with the seed-corn at sowing in spring. thus, to put it generally, the corn-spirit is killed in animal form in autumn; part of his flesh is eaten as a sacrament by his worshippers; and part of it is kept till next sowing-time or harvest as a pledge and security for the continuance or renewal of the corn-spirit's energies. if persons of fastidious taste should object that the greeks never could have conceived demeter and persephone to be embodied in the form of pigs, it may be answered that in the cave of phigalia in arcadia the black demeter was portrayed with the head and mane of a horse on the body of a woman. between the portraits of a goddess as a pig, and the portrait of her as a woman with a horse's head, there is little to choose in respect of barbarism. the legend told of the phigalian demeter indicates that the horse was one of the animal forms assumed in ancient greece, as in modern europe, by the cornspirit. it was said that in her search for her daughter, demeter assumed the form of a mare to escape the addresses of poseidon, and that, offended at his importunity, she withdrew in dudgeon to a cave not far from phigalia in the highlands of western arcadia. there, robed in black, she tarried so long that the fruits of the earth were perishing, and mankind would have died of famine if pan had not soothed the angry goddess and persuaded her to quit the cave. in memory of this event, the phigalians set up an image of the black demeter in the cave; it represented a woman dressed in a long robe, with the head and mane of a horse. the black demeter, in whose absence the fruits of the earth perish, is plainly a mythical expression for the bare wintry earth stripped of its summer mantle of green. . attis, adonis, and the pig passing now to attis and adonis, we may note a few facts which seem to show that these deities of vegetation had also, like other deities of the same class, their animal embodiments. the worshippers of attis abstained from eating the flesh of swine. this appears to indicate that the pig was regarded as an embodiment of attis. and the legend that attis was killed by a boar points in the same direction. for after the examples of the goat dionysus and the pig demeter it may almost be laid down as a rule that an animal which is said to have injured a god was originally the god himself. perhaps the cry of "hyes attes! hyes attes!" which was raised by the worshippers of attis, may be neither more nor less than "pig attis! pig attis!"--_hyes_ being possibly a phrygian form of the greek _hy¯s,_ "a pig." in regard to adonis, his connexion with the boar was not always explained by the story that he had been killed by the animal. according to another story, a boar rent with his tusk the bark of the tree in which the infant adonis was born. according to yet another story, he perished at the hands of hephaestus on mount lebanon while he was hunting wild boars. these variations in the legend serve to show that, while the connexion of the boar with adonis was certain, the reason of the connexion was not understood, and that consequently different stories were devised to explain it. certainly the pig ranked as a sacred animal among the syrians. at the great religious metropolis of hierapolis on the euphrates pigs were neither sacrificed nor eaten, and if a man touched a pig he was unclean for the rest of the day. some people said this was because the pigs were unclean; others said it was because the pigs were sacred. this difference of opinion points to a hazy state of religious thought in which the ideas of sanctity and uncleanness are not yet sharply distinguished, both being blent in a sort of vaporous solution to which we give the name of taboo. it is quite consistent with this that the pig should have been held to be an embodiment of the divine adonis, and the analogies of dionysus and demeter make it probable that the story of the hostility of the animal to the god was only a late misapprehension of the old view of the god as embodied in a pig. the rule that pigs were not sacrificed or eaten by worshippers of attis and presumably of adonis, does not exclude the possibility that in these rituals the pig was slain on solemn occasions as a representative of the god and consumed sacramentally by the worshippers. indeed, the sacramental killing and eating of an animal implies that the animal is sacred, and that, as a general rule, it is spared. the attitude of the jews to the pig was as ambiguous as that of the heathen syrians towards the same animal. the greeks could not decide whether the jews worshipped swine or abominated them. on the one hand they might not eat swine; but on the other hand they might not kill them. and if the former rule speaks for the uncleanness, the latter speaks still more strongly for the sanctity of the animal. for whereas both rules may, and one rule must, be explained on the supposition that the pig was sacred; neither rule must, and one rule cannot, be explained on the supposition that the pig was unclean. if, therefore, we prefer the former supposition, we must conclude that, originally at least, the pig was revered rather than abhorred by the israelites. we are confirmed in this opinion by observing that down to the time of isaiah some of the jews used to meet secretly in gardens to eat the flesh of swine and mice as a religious rite. doubtless this was a very ancient ceremony, dating from a time when both the pig and the mouse were venerated as divine, and when their flesh was partaken of sacramentally on rare and solemn occasions as the body and blood of gods. and in general it may perhaps be said that all so-called unclean animals were originally sacred; the reason for not eating them was that they were divine. . osiris, the pig and the bull in ancient egypt, within historical times, the pig occupied the same dubious position as in syria and palestine, though at first sight its uncleanness is more prominent than its sanctity. the egyptians are generally said by greek writers to have abhorred the pig as a foul and loathsome animal. if a man so much as touched a pig in passing, he stepped into the river with all his clothes on, to wash off the taint. to drink pig's milk was believed to cause leprosy to the drinker. swineherds, though natives of egypt, were forbidden to enter any temple, and they were the only men who were thus excluded. no one would give his daughter in marriage to a swineherd, or marry a swineherd's daughter; the swineherds married among themselves. yet once a year the egyptians sacrificed pigs to the moon and to osiris, and not only sacrificed them, but ate of their flesh, though on any other day of the year they would neither sacrifice them nor taste of their flesh. those who were too poor to offer a pig on this day baked cakes of dough, and offered them instead. this can hardly be explained except by the supposition that the pig was a sacred animal which was eaten sacramentally by his worshippers once a year. the view that in egypt the pig was sacred is borne out by the very facts which, to moderns, might seem to prove the contrary. thus the egyptians thought, as we have seen, that to drink pig's milk produced leprosy. but exactly analogous views are held by savages about the animals and plants which they deem most sacred. thus in the island of wetar (between new guinea and celebes) people believe themselves to be variously descended from wild pigs, serpents, crocodiles, turtles, dogs, and eels; a man may not eat an animal of the kind from which he is descended; if he does so, he will become a leper, and go mad. amongst the omaha indians of north america men whose totem is the elk, believe that if they ate the flesh of the male elk they would break out in boils and white spots in different parts of their bodies. in the same tribe men whose totem is the red maize, think that if they ate red maize they would have running sores all round their mouths. the bush negroes of surinam, who practise totemism, believe that if they ate the _capiaï_ (an animal like a pig) it would give them leprosy; perhaps the _capiaï_ is one of their totems. the syrians, in antiquity, who esteemed fish sacred, thought that if they ate fish their bodies would break out in ulcers, and their feet and stomach would swell up. the chasas of orissa believe that if they were to injure their totemic animal they would be attacked by leprosy and their line would die out. these examples prove that the eating of a sacred animal is often believed to produce leprosy or other skin-diseases; so far, therefore, they support the view that the pig must have been sacred in egypt, since the effect of drinking its milk was believed to be leprosy. again, the rule that, after touching a pig, a man had to wash himself and his clothes, also favours the view of the sanctity of the pig. for it is a common belief that the effect of contact with a sacred object must be removed, by washing or otherwise, before a man is free to mingle with his fellows. thus the jews wash their hands after reading the sacred scriptures. before coming forth from the tabernacle after the sin-offering, the high priest had to wash himself, and put off the garments which he had worn in the holy place. it was a rule of greek ritual that, in offering an expiatory sacrifice, the sacrificer should not touch the sacrifice, and that, after the offering was made, he must wash his body and his clothes in a river or spring before he could enter a city or his own house. the polynesians felt strongly the need of ridding themselves of the sacred contagion, if it may be so called, which they caught by touching sacred objects. various ceremonies were performed for the purpose of removing this contagion. we have seen, for example, how in tonga a man who happened to touch a sacred chief, or anything personally belonging to him, had to perform a certain ceremony before he could feed himself with his hands; otherwise it was believed that he would swell up and die, or at least be afflicted with scrofula or some other disease. we have seen, too, what fatal effects are supposed to follow, and do actually follow, from contact with a sacred object in new zealand. in short, primitive man believes that what is sacred is dangerous; it is pervaded by a sort of electrical sanctity which communicates a shock to, even if it does not kill, whatever comes in contact with it. hence the savage is unwilling to touch or even to see that which he deems peculiarly holy. thus bechuanas, of the crocodile clan, think it "hateful and unlucky" to meet or see a crocodile; the sight is thought to cause inflammation of the eyes. yet the crocodile is their most sacred object; they call it their father, swear by it, and celebrate it in their festivals. the goat is the sacred animal of the madenassana bushmen; yet "to look upon it would be to render the man for the time impure, as well as to cause him undefined uneasiness." the elk clan, among the omaha indians, believe that even to touch the male elk would be followed by an eruption of boils and white spots on the body. members of the reptile clan in the same tribe think that if one of them touches or smells a snake, it will make his hair white. in samoa people whose god was a butterfly believed that if they caught a butterfly it would strike them dead. again, in samoa the reddish-seared leaves of the banana-tree were commonly used as plates for handing food; but if any member of the wild pigeon family had used banana leaves for this purpose, it was supposed that he would suffer from rheumatic swellings or an eruption all over the body like chicken-pox. the mori clan of the bhils in central india worship the peacock as their totem and make offerings of grain to it; yet members of the clan believe that were they even to set foot on the tracks of a peacock they would afterwards suffer from some disease, and if a woman sees a peacock she must veil her face and look away. thus the primitive mind seems to conceive of holiness as a sort of dangerous virus, which a prudent man will shun as far as possible, and of which, if he should chance to be infected by it, he will carefully disinfect himself by some form of ceremonial purification. in the light of these parallels the beliefs and customs of the egyptians touching the pig are probably to be explained as based upon an opinion of the extreme sanctity rather than of the extreme uncleanness of the animal; or rather, to put it more correctly, they imply that the animal was looked on, not simply as a filthy and disgusting creature, but as a being endowed with high supernatural powers, and that as such it was regarded with that primitive sentiment of religious awe and fear in which the feelings of reverence and abhorrence are almost equally blended. the ancients themselves seem to have been aware that there was another side to the horror with which swine seemed to inspire the egyptians. for the greek astronomer and mathematician eudoxus, who resided fourteen months in egypt and conversed with the priests, was of opinion that the egyptians spared the pig, not out of abhorrence, but from a regard to its utility in agriculture; for, according to him, when the nile had subsided, herds of swine were turned loose over the fields to tread the seed down into the moist earth. but when a being is thus the object of mixed and implicitly contradictory feelings, he may be said to occupy a position of unstable equilibrium. in course of time one of the contradictory feelings is likely to prevail over the other, and according as the feeling which finally predominates is that of reverence or abhorrence, the being who is the object of it will rise into a god or sink into a devil. the latter, on the whole, was the fate of the pig in egypt. for in historical times the fear and horror of the pig seem certainly to have outweighed the reverence and worship of which he may once have been the object, and of which, even in his fallen state, he never quite lost trace. he came to be looked on as an embodiment of set or typhon, the egyptian devil and enemy of osiris. for it was in the shape of a black pig that typhon injured the eye of the god horus, who burned him and instituted the sacrifice of the pig, the sun-god ra having declared the beast abominable. again, the story that typhon was hunting a boar when he discovered and mangled the body of osiris, and that this was the reason why pigs were sacrificed once a year, is clearly a modernised version of an older story that osiris, like adonis and attis, was slain or mangled by a boar, or by typhon in the form of a boar. thus, the annual sacrifice of a pig to osiris might naturally be interpreted as vengeance inflicted on the hostile animal that had slain or mangled the god. but, in the first place, when an animal is thus killed as a solemn sacrifice once and once only in the year, it generally or always means that the animal is divine, that he is spared and respected the rest of the year as a god and slain, when he is slain, also in the character of a god. in the second place, the examples of dionysus and demeter, if not of attis and adonis, have taught us that the animal which is sacrificed to a god on the ground that he is the god's enemy may have been, and probably was, originally the god himself. therefore, the annual sacrifice of a pig to osiris, coupled with the alleged hostility of the animal to the god, tends to show, first, that originally the pig was a god, and, second, that he was osiris. at a later age, when osiris became anthropomorphic and his original relation to the pig had been forgotten, the animal was first distinguished from him, and afterwards opposed as an enemy to him by mythologists who could think of no reason for killing a beast in connexion with the worship of a god except that the beast was the god's enemy; or, as plutarch puts it, not that which is dear to the gods, but that which is the contrary, is fit to be sacrificed. at this later stage the havoc which a wild boar notoriously makes amongst the corn would supply a plausible reason for regarding him as the foe of the corn-spirit, though originally, if i am right, the very freedom with which the boar ranged at will through the corn led people to identify him with the corn-spirit, to whom he was afterwards opposed as an enemy. the view which identifies the pig with osiris derives not a little support from the sacrifice of pigs to him on the very day on which, according to tradition, osiris himself was killed; for thus the killing of the pig was the annual representation of the killing of osiris, just as the throwing of the pigs into the caverns at the thesmophoria was an annual representation of the descent of persephone into the lower world; and both customs are parallel to the european practice of killing a goat, cock, and so forth, at harvest as a representative of the corn-spirit. again, the theory that the pig, originally osiris himself, afterwards came to be regarded as an embodiment of his enemy typhon, is supported by the similar relation of red-haired men and red oxen to typhon. for in regard to the red-haired men who were burned and whose ashes were scattered with winnowing-fans, we have seen fair grounds for believing that originally, like the red-haired puppies killed at rome in spring, they were representatives of the corn-spirit himself that is, of osiris, and were slain for the express purpose of making the corn turn red or golden. yet at a later time these men were explained to be representatives, not of osiris, but of his enemy typhon, and the killing of them was regarded as an act of vengeance inflicted on the enemy of the god. similarly, the red oxen sacrificed by the egyptians were said to be offered on the ground of their resemblance to typhon; though it is more likely that originally they were slain on the ground of their resemblance to the corn-spirit osiris. we have seen that the ox is a common representative of the corn-spirit and is slain as such on the harvest-field. osiris was regularly identified with the bull apis of memphis and the bull mnevis of heliopolis. but it is hard to say whether these bulls were embodiments of him as the corn-spirit, as the red oxen appear to have been, or whether they were not in origin entirely distinct deities who came to be fused with osiris at a later time. the universality of the worship of these two bulls seems to put them on a different footing from the ordinary sacred animals whose worships were purely local. but whatever the original relation of apis to osiris may have been, there is one fact about the former which ought not to be passed over in a disquisition on the custom of killing a god. although the bull apis was worshipped as a god with much pomp and profound reverence, he was not suffered to live beyond a certain length of time which was prescribed by the sacred books, and on the expiry of which he was drowned in a holy spring. the limit, according to plutarch, was twenty-five years; but it cannot always have been enforced, for the tombs of the apis bulls have been discovered in modern times, and from the inscriptions on them it appears that in the twenty-second dynasty two of the holy steers lived more than twenty-six years. . virbius and the horse we are now in a position to hazard a conjecture as to the meaning of the tradition that virbius, the first of the divine kings of the wood at aricia, had been killed in the character of hippolytus by horses. having found, first, that spirits of the corn are not infrequently represented in the form of horses; and, second, that the animal which in later legends is said to have injured the god was sometimes originally the god himself, we may conjecture that the horses by which virbius or hippolytus was said to have been slain were really embodiments of him as a deity of vegetation. the myth that he had been killed by horses was probably invented to explain certain features in his worship, amongst others the custom of excluding horses from his sacred grove. for myth changes while custom remains constant; men continue to do what their fathers did before them, though the reasons on which their fathers acted have been long forgotten. the history of religion is a long attempt to reconcile old custom with new reason, to find a sound theory for an absurd practice. in the case before us we may be sure that the myth is more modern than the custom and by no means represents the original reason for excluding horses from the grove. from their exclusion it might be inferred that horses could not be the sacred animals or embodiments of the god of the grove. but the inference would be rash. the goat was at one time a sacred animal or embodiment of athena, as may be inferred from the practice of representing the goddess clad in a goat-skin (_aegis_). yet the goat was neither sacrificed to her as a rule, nor allowed to enter her great sanctuary, the acropolis at athens. the reason alleged for this was that the goat injured the olive, the sacred tree of athena. so far, therefore, the relation of the goat to athena is parallel to the relation of the horse to virbius, both animals being excluded from the sanctuary on the ground of injury done by them to the god. but from varro we learn that there was an exception to the rule which excluded the goat from the acropolis. once a year, he says, the goat was driven on to the acropolis for a necessary sacrifice. now, as has been remarked before, when an animal is sacrificed once and once only in the year, it is probably slain, not as a victim offered to the god, but as a representative of the god himself. therefore we may infer that if a goat was sacrificed on the acropolis once a year, it was sacrificed in the character of athena herself; and it may be conjectured that the skin of the sacrificed animal was placed on the statue of the goddess and formed the _aegis,_ which would thus be renewed annually. similarly at thebes in egypt rams were sacred and were not sacrificed. but on one day in the year a ram was killed, and its skin was placed on the statue of the god ammon. now, if we knew the ritual of the arician grove better, we might find that the rule of excluding horses from it, like the rule of excluding goats from the acropolis at athens, was subject to an annual exception, a horse being once a year taken into the grove and sacrificed as an embodiment of the god virbius. by the usual misunderstanding the horse thus killed would come in time to be regarded as an enemy offered up in sacrifice to the god whom he had injured, like the pig which was sacrificed to demeter and osiris or the goat which was sacrificed to dionysus, and possibly to athena. it is so easy for a writer to record a rule without noticing an exception that we need not wonder at finding the rule of the arician grove recorded without any mention of an exception such as i suppose. if we had had only the statements of athenaeus and pliny, we should have known only the rule which forbade the sacrifice of goats to athena and excluded them from the acropolis, without being aware of the important exception which the fortunate preservation of varro's work has revealed to us. the conjecture that once a year a horse may have been sacrificed in the arician grove as a representative of the deity of the grove derives some support from the similar sacrifice of a horse which took place once a year at rome. on the fifteenth of october in each year a chariot-race was run on the field of mars. stabbed with a spear, the right-hand horse of the victorious team was then sacrificed to mars for the purpose of ensuring good crops, and its head was cut off and adorned with a string of loaves. thereupon the inhabitants of two wards--the sacred way and the subura--contended with each other who should get the head. if the people of the sacred way got it, they fastened it to a wall of the king's house; if the people of the subura got it, they fastened it to the mamilian tower. the horse's tail was cut off and carried to the king's house with such speed that the blood dripped on the hearth of the house. further, it appears that the blood of the horse was caught and preserved till the twenty-first of april, when the vestal virgins mixed it with the blood of the unborn calves which had been sacrificed six days before. the mixture was then distributed to shepherds, and used by them for fumigating their flocks. in this ceremony the decoration of the horse's head with a string of loaves, and the alleged object of the sacrifice, namely, to procure a good harvest, seem to indicate that the horse was killed as one of those animal representatives of the corn-spirit of which we have found so many examples. the custom of cutting off the horse's tail is like the african custom of cutting off the tails of the oxen and sacrificing them to obtain a good crop. in both the roman and the african custom the animal apparently stands for the corn-spirit, and its fructifying power is supposed to reside especially in its tail. the latter idea occurs, as we have seen, in european folk-lore. again, the practice of fumigating the cattle in spring with the blood of the horse may be compared with the practice of giving the old wife, the maiden, or the _clyack_ sheaf as fodder to the horses in spring or the cattle at christmas, and giving the yule boar to the ploughing oxen or horses to eat in spring. all these usages aim at ensuring the blessing of the corn-spirit on the homestead and its inmates and storing it up for another year. the roman sacrifice of the october horse, as it was called, carries us back to the early days when the subura, afterwards a low and squalid quarter of the great metropolis, was still a separate village, whose inhabitants engaged in a friendly contest on the harvest-field with their neighbours of rome, then a little rural town. the field of mars on which the ceremony took place lay beside the tiber, and formed part of the king's domain down to the abolition of the monarchy. for tradition ran that at the time when the last of the kings was driven from rome, the corn stood ripe for the sickle on the crown lands beside the river; but no one would eat the accursed grain and it was flung into the river in such heaps that, the water being low with the summer heat, it formed the nucleus of an island. the horse sacrifice was thus an old autumn custom observed upon the king's corn-fields at the end of the harvest. the tail and blood of the horse, as the chief parts of the corn-spirit's representative, were taken to the king's house and kept there; just as in germany the harvest-cock is nailed on the gable or over the door of the farmhouse; and as the last sheaf, in the form of the maiden, is carried home and kept over the fireplace in the highlands of scotland. thus the blessing of the corn-spirit was brought to the king's house and hearth and, through them, to the community of which he was the head. similarly in the spring and autumn customs of northern europe the may-pole is sometimes set up in front of the house of the mayor or burgomaster, and the last sheaf at harvest is brought to him as the head of the village. but while the tail and blood fell to the king, the neighbouring village of the subura, which no doubt once had a similar ceremony of its own, was gratified by being allowed to compete for the prize of the horse's head. the mamilian tower, to which the suburans nailed the horse's head when they succeeded in carrying it off, appears to have been a peel-tower or keep of the old mamilian family, the magnates of the village. the ceremony thus performed on the king's fields and at his house on behalf of the whole town and of the neighbouring village presupposes a time when each township performed a similar ceremony on its own fields. in the rural districts of latium the villages may have continued to observe the custom, each on its own land, long after the roman hamlets had merged their separate harvest-homes in the common celebration on the king's lands. there is no intrinsic improbability in the supposition that the sacred grove of aricia, like the field of mars at rome, may have been the scene of a common harvest celebration, at which a horse was sacrificed with the same rude rites on behalf of the neighbouring villages. the horse would represent the fructifying spirit both of the tree and of the corn, for the two ideas melt into each other, as we see in customs like the harvest-may. l. eating the god . the sacrament of first-fruits we have now seen that the corn-spirit is represented sometimes in human, sometimes in animal form, and that in both cases he is killed in the person of his representative and eaten sacramentally. to find examples of actually killing the human representative of the corn-spirit we had naturally to go to savage races; but the harvest-suppers of our european peasants have furnished unmistakable examples of the sacramental eating of animals as representatives of the corn-spirit. but further, as might have been anticipated, the new corn is itself eaten sacramentally, that is, as the body of the corn-spirit. in wermland, sweden, the farmer's wife uses the grain of the last sheaf to bake a loaf in the shape of a little girl; this loaf is divided amongst the whole household and eaten by them. here the loaf represents the corn-spirit conceived as a maiden; just as in scotland the corn-spirit is similarly conceived and represented by the last sheaf made up in the form of a woman and bearing the name of the maiden. as usual, the corn-spirit is believed to reside in the last sheaf; and to eat a loaf made from the last sheaf is, therefore, to eat the corn-spirit itself. similarly at la palisse, in france, a man made of dough is hung upon the fir-tree which is carried on the last harvest-waggon. the tree and the dough-man are taken to the mayor's house and kept there till the vintage is over. then the close of the harvest is celebrated by a feast at which the mayor breaks the dough-man in pieces and gives the pieces to the people to eat. in these examples the corn-spirit is represented and eaten in human shape. in other cases, though the new corn is not baked in loaves of human shape, still the solemn ceremonies with which it is eaten suffice to indicate that it is partaken of sacramentally, that is, as the body of the corn-spirit. for example, the following ceremonies used to be observed by lithuanian peasants at eating the new corn. about the time of the autumn sowing, when all the corn had been got in and the threshing had begun, each farmer held a festival called sabarios, that is, "the mixing or throwing together." he took nine good handfuls of each kind of crop--wheat, barley, oats, flax, beans, lentils, and the rest; and each handful he divided into three parts. the twentyseven portions of each grain were then thrown on a heap and all mixed up together. the grain used had to be that which was first threshed and winnowed and which had been set aside and kept for this purpose. a part of the grain thus mixed was employed to bake little loaves, one for each of the household; the rest was mixed with more barley or oats and made into beer. the first beer brewed from this mixture was for the drinking of the farmer, his wife, and children; the second brew was for the servants. the beer being ready, the farmer chose an evening when no stranger was expected. then he knelt down before the barrel of beer, drew a jugful of the liquor and poured it on the bung of the barrel, saying, "o fruitful earth, make rye and barley and all kinds of corn to flourish." next he took the jug to the parlour, where his wife and children awaited him. on the floor of the parlour lay bound a black or white or speckled (not a red) cock and a hen of the same colour and of the same brood, which must have been hatched within the year. then the farmer knelt down, with the jug in his hand, and thanked god for the harvest and prayed for a good crop next year. next all lifted up their hands and said, "o god, and thou, o earth, we give you this cock and hen as a free-will offering." with that the farmer killed the fowls with the blows of a wooden spoon, for he might not cut their heads off. after the first prayer and after killing each of the birds he poured out a third of the beer. then his wife boiled the fowls in a new pot which had never been used before. after that, a bushel was set, bottom upwards, on the floor, and on it were placed the little loaves mentioned above and the boiled fowls. next the new beer was fetched, together with a ladle and three mugs, none of which was used except on this occasion. when the farmer had ladled the beer into the mugs, the family knelt down round the bushel. the father then uttered a prayer and drank off the three mugs of beer. the rest followed his example. then the loaves and the flesh of the fowls were eaten, after which the beer went round again, till every one had emptied each of the three mugs nine times. none of the food should remain over; but if anything did happen to be left, it was consumed next morning with the same ceremonies. the bones were given to the dog to eat; if he did not eat them all up, the remains were buried under the dung in the cattle-stall. this ceremony was observed at the beginning of december. on the day on which it took place no bad word might be spoken. such was the custom about two hundred years or more ago. at the present day in lithuania, when new potatoes or loaves made from the new corn are being eaten, all the people at table pull each other's hair. the meaning of this last custom is obscure, but a similar custom was certainly observed by the heathen lithuanians at their solemn sacrifices. many of the esthonians of the island of oesel will not eat bread baked of the new corn till they have first taken a bite at a piece of iron. the iron is here plainly a charm, intended to render harmless the spirit that is in the corn. in sutherlandshire at the present day, when the new potatoes are dug all the family must taste them, otherwise "the spirits in them [the potatoes] take offence, and the potatoes would not keep." in one part of yorkshire it is still customary for the clergyman to cut the first corn; and my informant believes that the corn so cut is used to make the communion bread. if the latter part of the custom is correctly reported (and analogy is all in its favour), it shows how the christian communion has absorbed within itself a sacrament which is doubtless far older than christianity. the aino or ainu of japan are said to distinguish various kinds of millet as male and female respectively, and these kinds, taken together, are called "the divine husband and wife cereal" (_umurek haru kamui_). "therefore before millet is pounded and made into cakes for general eating, the old men have a few made for themselves first to worship. when they are ready they pray to them very earnestly and say: 'o thou cereal deity, we worship thee. thou hast grown very well this year, and thy flavour will be sweet. thou art good. the goddess of fire will be glad, and we also shall rejoice greatly. o thou god, o thou divine cereal, do thou nourish the people. i now partake of thee. i worship thee and give thee thanks.' after having thus prayed, they, the worshippers, take a cake and eat it, and from this time the people may all partake of the new millet. and so with many gestures of homage and words of prayer this kind of food is dedicated to the well-being of the ainu. no doubt the cereal offering is regarded as a tribute paid to a god, but that god is no other than the seed itself; and it is only a god in so far as it is beneficial to the human body." at the close of the rice harvest in the east indian island of buru, each clan meets at a common sacramental meal, to which every member of the clan is bound to contribute a little of the new rice. this meal is called "eating the soul of the rice," a name which clearly indicates the sacramental character of the repast. some of the rice is also set apart and offered to the spirits. amongst the alfoors of minahassa, in celebes, the priest sows the first rice-seed and plucks the first ripe rice in each field. this rice he roasts and grinds into meal, and gives some of it to each of the household. shortly before the rice-harvest in boland mongondo, another district of celebes, an offering is made of a small pig or a fowl. then the priest plucks a little rice, first on his own field and next on those of his neighbours. all the rice thus plucked by him he dries along with his own, and then gives it back to the respective owners, who have it ground and boiled. when it is boiled the women take it back, with an egg, to the priest, who offers the egg in sacrifice and returns the rice to the women. of this rice every member of the family, down to the youngest child, must partake. after this ceremony every one is free to get in his rice. amongst the burghers or badagas, a tribe of the neilgherry hills in southern india, the first handful of seed is sown and the first sheaf reaped by a curumbar, a man of a different tribe, the members of which the burghers regard as sorcerers. the grain contained in the first sheaf "is that day reduced to meal, made into cakes, and, being offered as a first-fruit oblation, is, together with the remainder of the sacrificed animal, partaken of by the burgher and the whole of his family, as the meat of a federal offering and sacrifice." among the hindoos of southern india the eating of the new rice is the occasion of a family festival called pongol. the new rice is boiled in a new pot on a fire which is kindled at noon on the day when, according to hindoo astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of capricorn. the boiling of the pot is watched with great anxiety by the whole family, for as the milk boils, so will the coming year be. if the milk boils rapidly, the year will be prosperous; but it will be the reverse if the milk boils slowly. some of the new boiled rice is offered to the image of ganesa; then every one partakes of it. in some parts of northern india the festival of the new crop is known as _navan,_ that is, "new grain." when the crop is ripe, the owner takes the omens, goes to the field, plucks five or six ears of barley in the spring crop and one of the millets in the autumn harvest. this is brought home, parched, and mixed with coarse sugar, butter, and curds. some of it is thrown on the fire in the name of the village gods and deceased ancestors; the rest is eaten by the family. the ceremony of eating the new yams at onitsha, on the niger, is thus described: "each headman brought out six yams, and cut down young branches of palm-leaves and placed them before his gate, roasted three of the yams, and got some kola-nuts and fish. after the yam is roasted, the _libia,_ or country doctor, takes the yam, scrapes it into a sort of meal, and divides it into halves; he then takes one piece, and places it on the lips of the person who is going to eat the new yam. the eater then blows up the steam from the hot yam, and afterwards pokes the whole into his mouth, and says, 'i thank god for being permitted to eat the new yam'; he then begins to chew it heartily, with fish likewise." among the nandi of british east africa, when the eleusine grain is ripening in autumn, every woman who owns a corn-field goes out into it with her daughters, and they all pluck some of the ripe grain. each of the women then fixes one grain in her necklace and chews another, which she rubs on her forehead, throat, and breast. no mark of joy escapes them; sorrowfully they cut a basketful of the new corn, and carrying it home place it in the loft to dry. as the ceiling is of wickerwork, a good deal of the grain drops through the crevices and falls into the fire, where it explodes with a crackling noise. the people make no attempt to prevent this waste; for they regard the crackling of the grain in the fire as a sign that the souls of the dead are partaking of it. a few days later porridge is made from the new grain and served up with milk at the evening meal. all the members of the family take some of the porridge and dab it on the walls and roofs of the huts; also they put a little in their mouths and spit it out towards the east and on the outside of the huts. then, holding up some of the grain in his hand, the head of the family prays to god for health and strength, and likewise for milk, and everybody present repeats the words of the prayer after him. amongst the caffres of natal and zululand, no one may eat of the new fruits till after a festival which marks the beginning of the caffre year and falls at the end of december or the beginning of january. all the people assemble at the king's kraal, where they feast and dance. before they separate the "dedication of the people" takes place. various fruits of the earth, as corn, mealies, and pumpkins, mixed with the flesh of a sacrificed animal and with "medicine," are boiled in great pots, and a little of this food is placed in each man's mouth by the king himself. after thus partaking of the sanctified fruits, a man is himself sanctified for the whole year, and may immediately get in his crops. it is believed that if any man were to partake of the new fruits before the festival, he would die; if he were detected, he would be put to death, or at least all his cattle would be taken from him. the holiness of the new fruits is well marked by the rule that they must be cooked in a special pot which is used only for this purpose, and on a new fire kindled by a magician through the friction of two sticks which are called "husband and wife." among the bechuanas it is a rule that before they partake of the new crops they must purify themselves. the purification takes place at the commencement of the new year on a day in january which is fixed by the chief. it begins in the great kraal of the tribe, where all the adult males assemble. each of them takes in his hand leaves of a gourd called by the natives _lerotse_ (described as something between a pumpkin and a vegetable marrow); and having crushed the leaves he anoints with the expressed juice his big toes and his navel; many people indeed apply the juice to all the joints of their body, but the better-informed say that this is a vulgar departure from ancient custom. after this ceremony in the great kraal every man goes home to his own kraal, assembles all the members of his family, men, women, and children, and smears them all with the juice of the _lerotse_ leaves. some of the leaves are also pounded, mixed with milk in a large wooden dish, and given to the dogs to lap up. then the porridge plate of each member of the family is rubbed with the _lerotse_ leaves. when this purification has been completed, but not before, the people are free to eat of the new crops. the bororo indians of brazil think that it would be certain death to eat the new maize before it has been blessed by the medicine-man. the ceremony of blessing it is as follows. the half-ripe husk is washed and placed before the medicine-man, who by dancing and singing for several hours, and by incessant smoking, works himself up into a state of ecstasy, whereupon he bites into the husk, trembling in every limb and uttering shrieks from time to time. a similar ceremony is performed whenever a large animal or a large fish is killed. the bororo are firmly persuaded that were any man to touch unconsecrated maize or meat, before the ceremony had been completed, he and his whole tribe would perish. amongst the creek indians of north america, the _busk_ or festival of first-fruits was the chief ceremony of the year. it was held in july or august, when the corn was ripe, and marked the end of the old year and the beginning of the new one. before it took place, none of the indians would eat or even handle any part of the new harvest. sometimes each town had its own busk; sometimes several towns united to hold one in common. before celebrating the busk, the people provided themselves with new clothes and new household utensils and furniture; they collected their old clothes and rubbish, together with all the remaining grain and other old provisions, cast them together in one common heap, and consumed them with fire. as a preparation for the ceremony, all the fires in the village were extinguished, and the ashes swept clean away. in particular, the hearth or altar of the temple was dug up and the ashes carried out. then the chief priest put some roots of the button-snake plant, with some green tobacco leaves and a little of the new fruits, at the bottom of the fireplace, which he afterwards commanded to be covered up with white clay, and wetted over with clean water. a thick arbour of green branches of young trees was then made over the altar. meanwhile the women at home were cleaning out their houses, renewing the old hearths, and scouring all the cooking vessels that they might be ready to receive the new fire and the new fruits. the public or sacred square was carefully swept of even the smallest crumbs of previous feasts, "for fear of polluting the first-fruit offerings." also every vessel that had contained or had been used about any food during the expiring year was removed from the temple before sunset. then all the men who were not known to have violated the law of the first-fruit offering and that of marriage during the year were summoned by a crier to enter the holy square and observe a solemn fast. but the women (except six old ones), the children, and all who had not attained the rank of warriors were forbidden to enter the square. sentinels were also posted at the corners of the square to keep out all persons deemed impure and all animals. a strict fast was then observed for two nights and a day, the devotees drinking a bitter decoction of button-snake root "in order to vomit and purge their sinful bodies." that the people outside the square might also be purified, one of the old men laid down a quantity of green tobacco at a corner of the square; this was carried off by an old woman and distributed to the people without, who chewed and swallowed it "in order to afflict their souls." during this general fast, the women, children, and men of weak constitution were allowed to eat after mid-day, but not before. on the morning when the fast ended, the women brought a quantity of the old year's food to the outside of the sacred square. these provisions were then fetched in and set before the famished multitude, but all traces of them had to be removed before noon. when the sun was declining from the meridian, all the people were commanded by the voice of a crier to stay within doors, to do no bad act, and to be sure to extinguish and throw away every spark of the old fire. universal silence now reigned. then the high priest made the new fire by the friction of two pieces of wood, and placed it on the altar under the green arbour. this new fire was believed to atone for all past crimes except murder. next a basket of new fruits was brought; the high priest took out a little of each sort of fruit, rubbed it with bear's oil, and offered it, together with some flesh, "to the bountiful holy spirit of fire, as a first-fruit offering, and an annual oblation for sin." he also consecrated the sacred emetics (the button-snake root and the cassina or black-drink) by pouring a little of them into the fire. the persons who had remained outside now approached, without entering, the sacred square; and the chief priest thereupon made a speech, exhorting the people to observe their old rites and customs, announcing that the new divine fire had purged away the sins of the past year, and earnestly warning the women that, if any of them had not extinguished the old fire, or had contracted any impurity, they must forthwith depart, "lest the divine fire should spoil both them and the people." some of the new fire was then set down outside the holy square; the women carried it home joyfully, and laid it on their unpolluted hearths. when several towns had united to celebrate the festival, the new fire might thus be carried for several miles. the new fruits were then dressed on the new fires and eaten with bear's oil, which was deemed indispensable. at one point of the festival the men rubbed the new corn between their hands, then on their faces and breasts. during the festival which followed, the warriors, dressed in their wild martial array, their heads covered with white down and carrying white feathers in their hands, danced round the sacred arbour, under which burned the new fire. the ceremonies lasted eight days, during which the strictest continence was practised. towards the conclusion of the festival the warriors fought a mock battle; then the men and women together, in three circles, danced round the sacred fire. lastly, all the people smeared themselves with white clay and bathed in running water. they came out of the water believing that no evil could now befall them for what they had done amiss in the past. so they departed in joy and peace. to this day, also, the remnant of the seminole indians of florida, a people of the same stock as the creeks, hold an annual purification and festival called the green corn dance, at which the new corn is eaten. on the evening of the first day of the festival they quaff a nauseous "black drink," as it is called, which acts both as an emetic and a purgative; they believe that he who does not drink of this liquor cannot safely eat the new green corn, and besides that he will be sick at some time in the year. while the liquor is being drunk, the dancing begins, and the medicine-men join in it. next day they eat of the green corn; the following day they fast, probably from fear of polluting the sacred food in their stomachs by contact with common food; but the third day they hold a great feast. even tribes which do not till the ground sometimes observe analogous ceremonies when they gather the first wild fruits or dig the first roots of the season. thus among the salish and tinneh indians of north-west america, "before the young people eat the first berries or roots of the season, they always addressed the fruit or plant, and begged for its favour and aid. in some tribes regular first-fruit ceremonies were annually held at the time of picking the wild fruit or gathering the roots, and also among the salmon-eating tribes when the run of the 'sockeye' salmon began. these ceremonies were not so much thanksgivings, as performances to ensure a plentiful crop or supply of the particular object desired, for if they were not properly and reverently carried out there was danger of giving offence to the 'spirits' of the objects, and being deprived of them." for example, these indians are fond of the young shoots or suckers of the wild raspberry, and they observe a solemn ceremony at eating the first of them in season. the shoots are cooked in a new pot: the people assemble and stand in a great circle with closed eyes, while the presiding chief or medicine-man invokes the spirit of the plant, begging that it will be propitious to them and grant them a good supply of suckers. after this part of the ceremony is over the cooked suckers are handed to the presiding officer in a newly carved dish, and a small portion is given to each person present, who reverently and decorously eats it. the thompson indians of british columbia cook and eat the sunflower root (_balsamorrhiza sagittata,_ nutt.), but they used to regard it as a mysterious being, and observed a number of taboos in connexion with it; for example, women who were engaged in digging or cooking the root must practice continence, and no man might come near the oven where the women were baking the root. when young people ate the first berries, roots, or other products of the season, they addressed a prayer to the sunflower-root as follows: "i inform thee that i intend to eat thee. mayest thou always help me to ascend, so that i may always be able to reach the tops of mountains, and may i never be clumsy! i ask this from thee, sunflower-root. thou art the greatest of all in mystery." to omit this prayer would make the eater lazy and cause him to sleep long in the morning. these customs of the thompson and other indian tribes of north-west america are instructive, because they clearly indicate the motive, or at least one of the motives, which underlies the ceremonies observed at eating the first fruits of the season. that motive in the case of these indians is simply a belief that the plant itself is animated by a conscious and more or less powerful spirit, who must be propitiated before the people can safely partake of the fruits or roots which are supposed to be part of his body. now if this is true of wild fruits and roots, we may infer with some probability that it is also true of cultivated fruits and roots, such as yams, and in particular that it holds good of the cereals, such as wheat, barley, oats, rice, and maize. in all cases it seems reasonable to infer that the scruples which savages manifest at eating the first fruits of any crop, and the ceremonies which they observe before they overcome their scruples, are due at least in large measure to a notion that the plant or tree is animated by a spirit or even a deity, whose leave must be obtained, or whose favour must be sought, before it is possible to partake with safety of the new crop. this indeed is plainly affirmed of the aino: they call the millet "the divine cereal," "the cereal deity," and they pray to and worship him before they will eat of the cakes made from the new millet. and even where the indwelling divinity of the first fruits is not expressly affirmed, it appears to be implied both by the solemn preparations made for eating them and by the danger supposed to be incurred by persons who venture to partake of them without observing the prescribed ritual. in all such cases, accordingly, we may not improperly describe the eating of the new fruits as a sacrament or communion with a deity, or at all events with a powerful spirit. among the usages which point to this conclusion are the custom of employing either new or specially reserved vessels to hold the new fruits, and the practice of purifying the persons of the communicants before it is lawful to engage in the solemn act of communion with the divinity. of all the modes of purification adopted on these occasions none perhaps brings out the sacramental virtue of the rite so clearly as the creek and seminole practice of taking a purgative before swallowing the new corn. the intention is thereby to prevent the sacred food from being polluted by contact with common food in the stomach of the eater. for the same reason catholics partake of the eucharist fasting; and among the pastoral masai of eastern africa the young warriors, who live on meat and milk exclusively, are obliged to eat nothing but milk for so many days and then nothing but meat for so many more, and before they pass from the one food to the other they must make sure that none of the old food remains in their stomachs; this they do by swallowing a very powerful purgative and emetic. in some of the festivals which we have examined, the sacrament of first-fruits is combined with a sacrifice or presentation of them to gods or spirits, and in course of time the sacrifice of first-fruits tends to throw the sacrament into the shade, if not to supersede it. the mere fact of offering the first-fruits to the gods or spirits comes now to be thought a sufficient preparation for eating the new corn; the higher powers having received their share, man is free to enjoy the rest. this mode of viewing the new fruits implies that they are regarded no longer as themselves instinct with divine life, but merely as a gift bestowed by the gods upon man, who is bound to express his gratitude and homage to his divine benefactors by returning to them a portion of their bounty. . eating the god among the aztecs the custom of eating bread sacramentally as the body of a god was practised by the aztecs before the discovery and conquest of mexico by the spaniards. twice a year, in may and december, an image of the great mexican god huitzilopochtli or vitzilipuztli was made of dough, then broken in pieces, and solemnly eaten by his worshippers. the may ceremony is thus described by the historian acosta: "the mexicans in the month of may made their principal feast to their god vitzilipuztli, and two days before this feast, the virgins whereof i have spoken (the which were shut up and secluded in the same temple and were as it were religious women) did mingle a quantity of the seed of beets with roasted maize, and then they did mould it with honey, making an idol of that paste in bigness like to that of wood, putting instead of eyes grains of green glass, of blue or white; and for teeth grains of maize set forth with all the ornament and furniture that i have said. this being finished, all the noblemen came and brought it an exquisite and rich garment, like unto that of the idol, wherewith they did attire it. being thus clad and deckt, they did set it in an azured chair and in a litter to carry it on their shoulders. the morning of this feast being come, an hour before day all the maidens came forth attired in white, with new ornaments, the which that day were called the sisters of their god vitzilipuztli, they came crowned with garlands of maize roasted and parched, being like unto azahar or the flower of orange; and about their necks they had great chains of the same, which went bauldrick-wise under their left arm. their cheeks were dyed with vermilion, their arms from the elbow to the wrist were covered with red parrots' feathers." young men, dressed in red robes and crowned like the virgins with maize, then carried the idol in its litter to the foot of the great pyramid-shaped temple, up the steep and narrow steps of which it was drawn to the music of flutes, trumpets, cornets, and drums. "while they mounted up the idol all the people stood in the court with much reverence and fear. being mounted to the top, and that they had placed it in a little lodge of roses which they held ready, presently came the young men, which strewed many flowers of sundry kinds, wherewith they filled the temple both within and without. this done, all the virgins came out of their convent, bringing pieces of paste compounded of beets and roasted maize, which was of the same paste whereof their idol was made and compounded, and they were of the fashion of great bones. they delivered them to the young men, who carried them up and laid them at the idol's feet, wherewith they filled the whole place that it could receive no more. they called these morsels of paste the flesh and bones of vitzilipuztli. having laid abroad these bones, presently came all the ancients of the temple, priests, levites, and all the rest of the ministers, according to their dignities and antiquities (for herein there was a strict order amongst them) one after another, with their veils of diverse colours and works, every one according to his dignity and office, having garlands upon their heads and chains of flowers about their necks; after them came their gods and goddesses whom they worshipped, of diverse figures, attired in the same livery; then putting themselves in order about those morsels and pieces of paste, they used certain ceremonies with singing and dancing. by means whereof they were blessed and consecrated for the flesh and bones of this idol. this ceremony and blessing (whereby they were taken for the flesh and bones of the idol) being ended, they honoured those pieces in the same sort as their god. . . . all the city came to this goodly spectacle, and there was a commandment very strictly observed throughout all the land, that the day of the feast of the idol of vitzilipuztli they should eat no other meat but this paste, with honey, whereof the idol was made. and this should be eaten at the point of day, and they should drink no water nor any other thing till after noon: they held it for an ill sign, yea, for sacrilege to do the contrary: but after the ceremonies ended, it was lawful for them to eat anything. during the time of this ceremony they hid the water from their little children, admonishing all such as had the use of reason not to drink any water; which, if they did, the anger of god would come upon them, and they should die, which they did observe very carefully and strictly. the ceremonies, dancing, and sacrifice ended, the went to unclothe themselves, and the priests and superiors of the temple took the idol of paste, which they spoiled of all the ornaments it had, and made many pieces, as well of the idol itself as of the truncheons which they consecrated, and then they gave them to the people in manner of a communion, beginning with the greater, and continuing unto the rest, both men, women, and little children, who received it with such tears, fear, and reverence as it was an admirable thing, saying that they did eat the flesh and bones of god, where-with they were grieved. such as had any sick folks demanded thereof for them, and carried it with great reverence and veneration." from this interesting passage we learn that the ancient mexicans, even before the arrival of christian missionaries, were fully acquainted with the doctrine of transubstantiation and acted upon it in the solemn rites of their religion. they believed that by consecrating bread their priests could turn it into the very body of their god, so that all who thereupon partook of the consecrated bread entered into a mystic communion with the deity by receiving a portion of his divine substance into themselves. the doctrine of transubstantiation, or the magical conversion of bread into flesh, was also familiar to the aryans of ancient india long before the spread and even the rise of christianity. the brahmans taught that the rice-cakes offered in sacrifice were substitutes for human beings, and that they were actually converted into the real bodies of men by the manipulation of the priest. we read that "when it (the rice-cake) still consists of rice-meal, it is the hair. when he pours water on it, it becomes skin. when he mixes it, it becomes flesh: for then it becomes consistent; and consistent also is the flesh. when it is baked, it becomes bone: for then it becomes somewhat hard; and hard is the bone. and when he is about to take it off (the fire) and sprinkles it with butter, he changes it into marrow. this is the completeness which they call the fivefold animal sacrifice." now, too, we can perfectly understand why on the day of their solemn communion with the deity the mexicans refused to eat any other food than the consecrated bread which they revered as the very flesh and bones of their god, and why up till noon they might drink nothing at all, not even water. they feared no doubt to defile the portion of god in their stomachs by contact with common things. a similar pious fear led the creek and seminole indians, as we saw, to adopt the more thoroughgoing expedient of rinsing out their bodies by a strong purgative before they dared to partake of the sacrament of first-fruits. at the festival of the winter solstice in december the aztecs killed their god huitzilopochtli in effigy first and ate him afterwards. as a preparation for this solemn ceremony an image of the deity in the likeness of a man was fashioned out of seeds of various sorts, which were kneaded into a dough with the blood of children. the bones of the god were represented by pieces of acacia wood. this image was placed on the chief altar of the temple, and on the day of the festival the king offered incense to it. early next day it was taken down and set on its feet in a great hall. then a priest, who bore the name and acted the part of the god quetzalcoatl, took a flint-tipped dart and hurled it into the breast of the dough-image, piercing it through and through. this was called "killing the god huitzilopochtli so that his body might be eaten." one of the priests cut out the heart of the image and gave it to the king to eat. the rest of the image was divided into minute pieces, of which every man great and small, down to the male children in the cradle, receive one to eat. but no woman might taste a morsel. the ceremony was called _teoqualo,_ that is, "god is eaten." at another festival the mexicans made little images like men, which stood for the cloud-capped mountains. these images were moulded of a paste of various seeds and were dressed in paper ornaments. some people fashioned five, others ten, others as many as fifteen of them. having been made, they were placed in the oratory of each house and worshipped. four times in the course of the night offerings of food were brought to them in tiny vessels; and people sang and played the flute before them through all the hours of darkness. at break of day the priests stabbed the images with a weaver's instrument, cut off their heads, and tore out their hearts, which they presented to the master of the house on a green saucer. the bodies of the images were then eaten by all the family, especially by the servants, "in order that by eating them they might be preserved from certain distempers, to which those persons who were negligent of worship to those deities conceived themselves to be subject." . many manii at aricia we are now able to suggest an explanation of the proverb "there are many manii at aricia." certain loaves made in the shape of men were called by the romans _maniae,_ and it appears that this kind of loaf was especially made at aricia. now, mania, the name of one of these loaves, was also the name of the mother or grandmother of ghosts, to whom woollen effigies of men and women were dedicated at the festival of the compitalia. these effigies were hung at the doors of all the houses in rome; one effigy was hung up for every free person in the house, and one effigy, of a different kind, for every slave. the reason was that on this day the ghosts of the dead were believed to be going about, and it was hoped that, either out of good nature or through simple inadvertence, they would carry off the effigies at the door instead of the living people in the house. according to tradition, these woollen figures were substitutes for a former custom of sacrificing human beings. upon data so fragmentary and uncertain, it is impossible to build with confidence; but it seems worth suggesting that the loaves in human form, which appear to have been baked at aricia, were sacramental bread, and that in the old days, when the divine king of the wood was annually slain, loaves were made in his image, like the paste figures of the gods in mexico, and were eaten sacramentally by his worshippers. the mexican sacraments in honour of huitzilopochtli were also accompanied by the sacrifice of human victims. the tradition that the founder of the sacred grove at aricia was a man named manius, from whom many manii were descended, would thus be an etymological myth invented to explain the name _maniae_ as applied to these sacramental loaves. a dim recollection of the original connexion of the loaves with human sacrifices may perhaps be traced in the story that the effigies dedicated to mania at the compitalia were substitutes for human victims. the story itself, however, is probably devoid of foundation, since the practice of putting up dummies to divert the attention of ghosts or demons from living people is not uncommon. for example, the tibetans stand in fear of innumerable earth-demons, all of whom are under the authority of old mother khön-ma. this goddess, who may be compared to the roman mania, the mother or grandmother of ghosts, is dressed in golden-yellow robes, holds a golden noose in her hand, and rides on a ram. in order to bar the dwelling-house against the foul fiends, of whom old mother khön-ma is mistress, an elaborate structure somewhat resembling a chandelier is fixed above the door on the outside of the house. it contains a ram's skull, a variety of precious objects such as gold-leaf, silver, and turquoise, also some dry food, such as rice, wheat, and pulse, and finally images or pictures of a man, a woman, and a house. "the object of these figures of a man, wife, and house is to deceive the demons should they still come in spite of this offering, and to mislead them into the belief that the foregoing pictures are the inmates of the house, so that they may wreak their wrath on these bits of wood and to save the real human occupants." when all is ready, a priest prays to old mother khön-ma that she would be pleased to accept these dainty offerings and to close the open doors of the earth, in order that the demons may not come forth to infest and injure the household. again, effigies are often employed as a means of preventing or curing sickness; the demons of disease either mistake the effigies for living people or are persuaded or compelled to enter them, leaving the real men and women well and whole. thus the alfoors of minahassa, in celebes, will sometimes transport a sick man to another house, while they leave on his bed a dummy made up of a pillow and clothes. this dummy the demon is supposed to mistake for the sick man, who consequently recovers. cure or prevention of this sort seems to find especial favour with the natives of borneo. thus, when an epidemic is raging among them, the dyaks of the katoengouw river set up wooden images at their doors in the hope that the demons of the plague may be deluded into carrying off the effigies instead of the people. among the oloh ngadju of borneo, when a sick man is supposed to be suffering from the assaults of a ghost, puppets of dough or rice-meal are made and thrown under the house as substitutes for the patient, who thus rids himself of the ghost. in certain of the western districts of borneo if a man is taken suddenly and violently sick, the physician, who in this part of the world is generally an old woman, fashions a wooden image and brings it seven times into contact with the sufferer's head, while she says: "this image serves to take the place of the sick man; sickness, pass over into the image." then, with some rice, salt, and tobacco in a little basket, the substitute is carried to the spot where the evil spirit is supposed to have entered into the man. there it is set upright on the ground, after the physician has invoked the spirit as follows: "o devil, here is an image which stands instead of the sick man. release the soul of the sick man and plague the image, for it is indeed prettier and better than he." batak magicians can conjure the demon of disease out of the patient's body into an image made out of a banana-tree with a human face and wrapt up in magic herbs; the image is then hurriedly removed and thrown away or buried beyond the boundaries of the village. sometimes the image, dressed as a man or a woman according to the sex of the patient, is deposited at a cross-road or other thoroughfare, in the hope that some passer-by, seeing it, may start and cry out, "ah! so-and-so is dead"; for such an exclamation is supposed to delude the demon of disease into a belief that he has accomplished his fell purpose, so he takes himself off and leaves the sufferer to get well. the mai darat, a sakai tribe of the malay peninsula, attribute all kinds of diseases to the agency of spirits which they call _nyani;_ fortunately, however, the magician can induce these maleficent beings to come out of the sick person and take up their abode in rude figures of grass, which are hung up outside the houses in little bell-shaped shrines decorated with peeled sticks. during an epidemic of small-pox the ewe negroes will sometimes clear a space outside of the town, where they erect a number of low mounds and cover them with as many little clay figures as there are people in the place. pots of food and water are also set out for the refreshment of the spirit of small-pox who, it is hoped, will take the clay figures and spare the living folk; and to make assurance doubly sure the road into the town is barricaded against him. with these examples before us we may surmise that the woollen effigies, which at the festival of the compitalia might be seen hanging at the doors of all the houses in ancient rome, were not substitutes for human victims who had formerly been sacrificed at this season, but rather vicarious offerings presented to the mother or grandmother of ghosts, in the hope that on her rounds through the city she would accept or mistake the effigies for the inmates of the house and so spare the living for another year. it is possible that the puppets made of rushes, which in the month of may the pontiffs and vestal virgins annually threw into the tiber from the old sublician bridge at rome, had originally the same significance; that is, they may have been designed to purge the city from demoniac influence by diverting the attention of the demons from human beings to the puppets and then toppling the whole uncanny crew, neck and crop, into the river, which would soon sweep them far out to sea. in precisely the same way the natives of old calabar used periodically to rid their town of the devils which infested it by luring the unwary demons into a number of lamentable scarecrows, which they afterwards flung into the river. this interpretation of the roman custom is supported to some extent by the evidence of plutarch, who speaks of the ceremony as "the greatest of purifications." li. homeopathic magic of a flesh diet the practice of killing a god has now been traced amongst peoples who have reached the agricultural stage of society. we have seen that the spirit of the corn, or of other cultivated plants, is commonly represented either in human or in animal form, and that in some places a custom has prevailed of killing annually either the human or the animal representative of the god. one reason for thus killing the corn-spirit in the person of his representative has been given implicitly in an earlier part of this work: we may suppose that the intention was to guard him or her (for the corn-spirit is often feminine) from the enfeeblement of old age by transferring the spirit, while still hale and hearty, to the person of a youthful and vigorous successor. apart from the desirability of renewing his divine energies, the death of the corn-spirit may have been deemed inevitable under the sickles or the knives of the reapers, and his worshippers may accordingly have felt bound to acquiesce in the sad necessity. but, further, we have found a widespread custom of eating the god sacramentally, either in the shape of the man or animal who represents the god, or in the shape of bread made in human or animal form. the reasons for thus partaking of the body of the god are, from the primitive standpoint, simple enough. the savage commonly believes that by eating the flesh of an animal or man he acquires not only the physical, but even the moral and intellectual qualities which were characteristic of that animal or man; so when the creature is deemed divine, our simple savage naturally expects to absorb a portion of its divinity along with its material substance. it may be well to illustrate by instances this common faith in the acquisition of virtues or vices of many kinds through the medium of animal food, even when there is no pretence that the viands consist of the body or blood of a god. the doctrine forms part of the widely ramified system of sympathetic or homoeopathic magic. thus, for example, the creeks, cherokee, and kindred tribes of north american indians "believe that nature is possest of such a property as to transfuse into men and animals the qualities, either of the food they use, or of those objects that are presented to their senses; he who feeds on venison is, according to their physical system, swifter and more sagacious than the man who lives on the flesh of the clumsy bear, or helpless dunghill fowls, the slow-footed tame cattle, or the heavy wallowing swine. this is the reason that several of their old men recommend, and say, that formerly their greatest chieftains observed a constant rule in their diet, and seldom ate of any animal of a gross quality, or heavy motion of body, fancying it conveyed a dullness through the whole system, and disabled them from exerting themselves with proper vigour in their martial, civil, and religious duties." the zaparo indians of ecuador "will, unless from necessity, in most cases not eat any heavy meats, such as tapir and peccary, but confine themselves to birds, monkeys, deer, fish, etc., principally because they argue that the heavier meats make them unwieldy, like the animals who supply the flesh, impeding their agility, and unfitting them for the chase." similarly some of the brazilian indians would eat no beast, bird, or fish that ran, flew, or swam slowly, lest by partaking of its flesh they should lose their ability and be unable to escape from their enemies. the caribs abstained from the flesh of pigs lest it should cause them to have small eyes like pigs; and they refused to partake of tortoises from a fear that if they did so they would become heavy and stupid like the animal. among the fans of west africa men in the prime of life never eat tortoises for a similar reason; they imagine that if they did so, their vigour and fleetness of foot would be gone. but old men may eat tortoises freely, because having already lost the power of running they can take no harm from the flesh of the slow-footed creature. while many savages thus fear to eat the flesh of slow-footed animals lest they should themselves become slow-footed, the bushmen of south africa purposely ate the flesh of such creatures, and the reason which they gave for doing so exhibits a curious refinement of savage philosophy. they imagined that the game which they pursued would be influenced sympathetically by the food in the body of the hunter, so that if he had eaten of swift-footed animals, the quarry would be swift-footed also and would escape him; whereas if he had eaten of slow-footed animals, the quarry would also be slow-footed, and he would be able to overtake and kill it. for that reason hunters of gemsbok particularly avoided eating the flesh of the swift and agile springbok; indeed they would not even touch it with their hands, because they believed the springbok to be a very lively creature which did not go to sleep at night, and they thought that if they ate springbok, the gemsbok which they hunted would likewise not be willing to go to sleep, even at night. how, then, could they catch it? the namaquas abstain from eating the flesh of hares, because they think it would make them faint-hearted as a hare. but they eat the flesh of the lion, or drink the blood of the leopard or lion, to get the courage and strength of these beasts. the bushmen will not give their children a jackal's heart to eat, lest it should make them timid like the jackal; but they give them a leopard's heart to eat to make them brave like the leopard. when a wagogo man of east africa kills a lion, he eats the heart in order to become brave like a lion; but he thinks that to eat the heart of a hen would make him timid. when a serious disease has attacked a zulu kraal, the medicine-man takes the bone of a very old dog, or the bone of an old cow, bull, or other very old animal, and administers it to the healthy as well as to the sick people, in order that they may live to be as old as the animal of whose bone they have partaken. so to restore the aged aeson to youth, the witch medea infused into his veins a decoction of the liver of the long-lived deer and the head of a crow that had outlived nine generations of men. among the dyaks of north-west borneo young men and warriors may not eat venison, because it would make them as timid as deer; but the women and very old men are free to eat it. however, among the kayans of the same region, who share the same view as to the ill effect of eating venison, men will partake of the dangerous viand provided it is cooked in the open air, for then the timid spirit of the animal is supposed to escape at once into the jungle and not to enter into the eater. the aino believe that the heart of the water-ousel is exceedingly wise, and that in speech the bird is most eloquent. therefore whenever he is killed, he should be at once torn open and his heart wrenched out and swallowed before it has time to grow cold or suffer damage of any kind. if a man swallows it thus, he will become very fluent and wise, and will be able to argue down all his adversaries. in northern india people fancy that if you eat the eyeballs of an owl you will be able like an owl to see in the dark. when the kansas indians were going to war, a feast used to be held in the chief's hut, and the principal dish was dog's flesh, because, said the indians, the animal who is so brave that he will let himself be cut in pieces in defence of his master, must needs inspire valour. men of the buru and aru islands, east indies, eat the flesh of dogs in order to be bold and nimble in war. amongst the papuans of the port moresby and motumotu districts, new guinea, young lads eat strong pig, wallaby, and large fish, in order to acquire the strength of the animal or fish. some of the natives of northern australia fancy that by eating the flesh of the kangaroo or emu they are enabled to jump or run faster than before. the miris of assam prize tiger's flesh as food for men; it gives them strength and courage. but "it is not suited for women; it would make them too strong-minded." in corea the bones of tigers fetch a higher price than those of leopards as a means of inspiring courage. a chinaman in seoul bought and ate a whole tiger to make himself brave and fierce. in norse legend, ingiald, son of king aunund, was timid in his youth, but after eating the heart of a wolf he became very bold; hialto gained strength and courage by eating the heart of a bear and drinking its blood. in morocco lethargic patients are given ants to swallow, and to eat lion's flesh will make a coward brave; but people abstain from eating the hearts of fowls, lest thereby they should be rendered timid. when a child is late in learning to speak, the turks of central asia will give it the tongues of certain birds to eat. a north american indian thought that brandy must be a decoction of hearts and tongues, "because," said he, "after drinking it i fear nothing, and i talk wonderfully." in java there is a tiny earthworm which now and then utters a shrill sound like that of the alarum of a small clock. hence when a public dancing girl has screamed herself hoarse in the exercise of her calling, the leader of the troop makes her eat some of these worms, in the belief that thus she will regain her voice and will, after swallowing them, be able to scream as shrilly as ever. the people of darfur, in central africa, think that the liver is the seat of the soul, and that a man may enlarge his soul by eating the liver of an animal. "whenever an animal is killed its liver is taken out and eaten, but the people are most careful not to touch it with their hands, as it is considered sacred; it is cut up in small pieces and eaten raw, the bits being conveyed to the mouth on the point of a knife, or the sharp point of a stick. any one who may accidentally touch the liver is strictly forbidden to partake of it, which prohibition is regarded as a great misfortune for him." women are not allowed to eat liver, because they have no soul. again, the flesh and blood of dead men are commonly eaten and drunk to inspire bravery, wisdom, or other qualities for which the men themselves were remarkable, or which are supposed to have their special seat in the particular part eaten. thus among the mountain tribes of south-eastern africa there are ceremonies by which the youths are formed into guilds or lodges, and among the rites of initiation there is one which is intended to infuse courage, intelligence, and other qualities into the novices. whenever an enemy who has behaved with conspicuous bravery is killed, his liver, which is considered the seat of valour; his ears, which are supposed to be the seat of intelligence; the skin of his forehead, which is regarded as the seat of perseverance; his testicles, which are held to be the seat of strength; and other members, which are viewed as the seat of other virtues, are cut from his body and baked to cinders. the ashes are carefully kept in the horn of a bull, and, during the ceremonies observed at circumcision, are mixed with other ingredients into a kind of paste, which is administered by the tribal priest to the youths. by this means the strength, valour, intelligence, and other virtues of the slain are believed to be imparted to the eaters. when basutos of the mountains have killed a very brave foe, they immediately cut out his heart and eat it, because this is supposed to give them his courage and strength in battle. when sir charles m'carthy was killed by the ashantees in , it is said that his heart was devoured by the chiefs of the ashantee army, who hoped by this means to imbibe his courage. his flesh was dried and parcelled out among the lower officers for the same purpose, and his bones were long kept at coomassie as national fetishes. the nauras indians of new granada ate the hearts of spaniards when they had the opportunity, hoping thereby to make themselves as dauntless as the dreaded castilian chivalry. the sioux indians used to reduce to powder the heart of a valiant enemy and swallow the powder, hoping thus to appropriate the dead man's valour. but while the human heart is thus commonly eaten for the sake of imbuing the eater with the qualities of its original owner, it is not, as we have already seen, the only part of the body which is consumed for this purpose. thus warriors of the theddora and ngarigo tribes of south-eastern australia used to eat the hands and feet of their slain enemies, believing that in this way they acquired some of the qualities and courage of the dead. the kamilaroi of new south wales ate the liver as well as the heart of a brave man to get his courage. in tonquin also there is a popular superstition that the liver of a brave man makes brave any who partake of it. with a like intent the chinese swallow the bile of notorious bandits who have been executed. the dyaks of sarawak used to eat the palms of the hands and the flesh of the knees of the slain in order to steady their own hands and strengthen their own knees. the tolalaki, notorious head-hunters of central celebes, drink the blood and eat the brains of their victims that they may become brave. the italones of the philippine islands drink the blood of their slain enemies, and eat part of the back of their heads and of their entrails raw to acquire their courage. for the same reason the efugaos, another tribe of the philippines, suck the brains of their foes. in like manner the kai of german new guinea eat the brains of the enemies they kill in order to acquire their strength. among the kimbunda of western africa, when a new king succeeds to the throne, a brave prisoner of war is killed in order that the king and nobles may eat his flesh, and so acquire his strength and courage. the notorious zulu chief matuana drank the gall of thirty chiefs, whose people he had destroyed, in the belief that it would make him strong. it is a zulu fancy that by eating the centre of the forehead and the eyebrow of an enemy they acquire the power of looking steadfastly at a foe. before every warlike expedition the people of minahassa in celebes used to take the locks of hair of a slain foe and dabble them in boiling water to extract the courage; this infusion of bravery was then drunk by the warriors. in new zealand "the chief was an _atua_ [god], but there were powerful and powerless gods; each naturally sought to make himself one of the former; the plan therefore adopted was to incorporate the spirits of others with their own; thus, when a warrior slew a chief, he immediately gouged out his eyes and swallowed them, the _atua tonga,_ or divinity, being supposed to reside in that organ; thus he not only killed the body, but also possessed himself of the soul of his enemy, and consequently the more chiefs he slew the greater did his divinity become." it is now easy to understand why a savage should desire to partake of the flesh of an animal or man whom he regards as divine. by eating the body of the god he shares in the god's attributes and powers. and when the god is a corn-god, the corn is his proper body; when he is a vine-god, the juice of the grape is his blood; and so by eating the bread and drinking the wine the worshipper partakes of the real body and blood of his god. thus the drinking of wine in the rites of a vine-god like dionysus is not an act of revelry, it is a solemn sacrament. yet a time comes when reasonable men find it hard to understand how any one in his senses can suppose that by eating bread or drinking wine he consumes the body or blood of a deity. "when we call corn ceres and wine bacchus," says cicero, "we use a common figure of speech; but do you imagine that anybody is so insane as to believe that the thing he feeds upon is a god?" lii. killing the divine animal . killing the sacred buzzard in the preceding chapters we saw that many communities which have progressed so far as to subsist mainly by agriculture have been in the habit of killing and eating their farinaceous deities either in their proper form of corn, rice, and so forth, or in the borrowed shapes of animals and men. it remains to show that hunting and pastoral tribes, as well as agricultural peoples, have been in the habit of killing the beings whom they worship. among the worshipful beings or gods, if indeed they deserve to be dignified by that name, whom hunters and shepherds adore and kill are animals pure and simple, not animals regarded as embodiments of other supernatural beings. our first example is drawn from the indians of california, who living in a fertile country under a serene and temperate sky, nevertheless rank near the bottom of the savage scale. the acagchemem tribe adored the great buzzard, and once a year they celebrated a great festival called _panes_ or bird-feast in its honour. the day selected for the festival was made known to the public on the evening before its celebration and preparations were at once made for the erection of a special temple (_vanquech_), which seems to have been a circular or oval enclosure of stakes with the stuffed skin of a coyote or prairie-wolf set up on a hurdle to represent the god chinigchinich. when the temple was ready, the bird was carried into it in solemn procession and laid on an altar erected for the purpose. then all the young women, whether married or single, began to run to and fro, as if distracted, some in one direction and some in another, while the elders of both sexes remained silent spectators of the scene, and the captains, tricked out in paint and feathers, danced round their adored bird. these ceremonies being concluded, they seized upon the bird and carried it to the principal temple, all the assembly uniting in the grand display, and the captains dancing and singing at the head of the procession. arrived at the temple, they killed the bird without losing a drop of its blood. the skin was removed entire and preserved with the feathers as a relic or for the purpose of making the festal garment or _paelt._ the carcase was buried in a hole in the temple, and the old women gathered round the grave weeping and moaning bitterly, while they threw various kinds of seeds or pieces of food on it, crying out, "why did you run away? would you not have been better with us? you would have made _pinole_ (a kind of gruel) as we do, and if you had not run away, you would not have become a _panes,_" and so on. when this ceremony was concluded, the dancing was resumed and kept up for three days and nights. they said that the _panes_ was a woman who had run off to the mountains and there been changed into a bird by the god chinigchinich. they believed that though they sacrificed the bird annually, she came to life again and returned to her home in the mountains. moreover, they thought that "as often as the bird was killed, it became multiplied; because every year all the different capitanes celebrated the same feast of _panes,_ and were firm in the opinion that the birds sacrificed were but one and the same female." the unity in multiplicity thus postulated by the californians is very noticeable and helps to explain their motive for killing the divine bird. the notion of the life of a species as distinct from that of an individual, easy and obvious as it seems to us, appears to be one which the californian savage cannot grasp. he is unable to conceive the life of the species otherwise than as an individual life, and therefore as exposed to the same dangers and calamities which menace and finally destroy the life of the individual. apparently he imagines that a species left to itself will grow old and die like an individual, and that therefore some step must be taken to save from extinction the particular species which he regards as divine. the only means he can think of to avert the catastrophe is to kill a member of the species in whose veins the tide of life is still running strong and has not yet stagnated among the fens of old age. the life thus diverted from one channel will flow, he fancies, more freshly and freely in a new one; in other words, the slain animal will revive and enter on a new term of life with all the spring and energy of youth. to us this reasoning is transparently absurd, but so too is the custom. a similar confusion, it may be noted, between the individual life and the life of the species was made by the samoans. each family had for its god a particular species of animal; yet the death of one of these animals, for example an owl, was not the death of the god, "he was supposed to be yet alive, and incarnate in all the owls in existence." . killing the sacred ram the rude californian rite which we have just considered has a close parallel in the religion of ancient egypt. the thebans and all other egyptians who worshipped the theban god ammon held rams to be sacred, and would not sacrifice them. but once a year at the festival of ammon they killed a ram, skinned it, and clothed the image of the god in the skin. then they mourned over the ram and buried it in a sacred tomb. the custom was explained by a story that zeus had once exhibited himself to hercules clad in the fleece and wearing the head of a ram. of course the ram in this case was simply the beast-god of thebes, as the wolf was the beast-god of lycopolis, and the goat was the beast-god of mendes. in other words, the ram was ammon himself. on the monuments, it is true, ammon appears in semi-human form with the body of a man and the head of a ram. but this only shows that he was in the usual chrysalis state through which beast-gods regularly pass before they emerge as full-blown anthropomorphic gods. the ram, therefore, was killed, not as a sacrifice to ammon, but as the god himself, whose identity with the beast is plainly shown by the custom of clothing his image in the skin of the slain ram. the reason for thus killing the ram-god annually may have been that which i have assigned for the general custom of killing a god and for the special californian custom of killing the divine buzzard. as applied to egypt, this explanation is supported by the analogy of the bull-god apis, who was not suffered to outlive a certain term of years. the intention of thus putting a limit to the life of the human god was, as i have argued, to secure him from the weakness and frailty of age. the same reasoning would explain the custom--probably an older one--of putting the beast-god to death annually, as was done with the ram of thebes. one point in the theban ritual--the application of the skin to the image of the god--deserves particular attention. if the god was at first the living ram, his representation by an image must have originated later. but how did it originate? one answer to this question is perhaps furnished by the practice of preserving the skin of the animal which is slain as divine. the californians, as we have seen, preserved the skin of the buzzard; and the skin of the goat, which is killed on the harvest-field as a representative of the corn-spirit, is kept for various superstitious purposes. the skin in fact was kept as a token or memorial of the god, or rather as containing in it a part of the divine life, and it had only to be stuffed or stretched upon a frame to become a regular image of him. at first an image of this kind would be renewed annually, the new image being provided by the skin of the slain animal. but from annual images to permanent images the transition is easy. we have seen that the older custom of cutting a new may-tree every year was superseded by the practice of maintaining a permanent may-pole, which was, however, annually decked with fresh leaves and flowers, and even surmounted each year by a fresh young tree. similarly when the stuffed skin, as a representative of the god, was replaced by a permanent image of him in wood, stone, or metal, the permanent image was annually clad in the fresh skin of the slain animal. when this stage had been reached, the custom of killing the ram came naturally to be interpreted as a sacrifice offered to the image, and was explained by a story like that of ammon and hercules. . killing the sacred serpent west africa appears to furnish another example of the annual killing of a sacred animal and the preservation of its skin. the negroes of issapoo, in the island of fernando po, regard the cobra-capella as their guardian deity, who can do them good or ill, bestow riches or inflict disease and death. the skin of one of these reptiles is hung tail downwards from a branch of the highest tree in the public square, and the placing of it on the tree is an annual ceremony. as soon as the ceremony is over, all children born within the past year are carried out and their hands made to touch the tail of the serpent's skin. the latter custom is clearly a way of placing the infants under the protection of the tribal god. similarly in senegambia a python is expected to visit every child of the python clan within eight days after birth; and the psylli, a snake clan of ancient africa, used to expose their infants to snakes in the belief that the snakes would not harm true-born children of the clan. . killing the sacred turtles in the californian, egyptian, and fernando po customs the worship of the animal seems to have no relation to agriculture, and may therefore be presumed to date from the hunting or pastoral stage of society. the same may be said of the following custom, though the zuni indians of new mexico, who practise it, are now settled in walled villages or towns of a peculiar type, and practise agriculture and the arts of pottery and weaving. but the zuni custom is marked by certain features which appear to place it in a somewhat different class from the preceding cases. it may be well therefore to describe it at full length in the words of an eye-witness. "with midsummer the heat became intense. my brother [_i.e._ adopted indian brother] and i sat, day after day, in the cool under-rooms of our house,--the latter [_sic_] busy with his quaint forge and crude appliances, working mexican coins over into bangles, girdles, ear-rings, buttons, and what not, for savage ornament. though his tools were wonderfully rude, the work he turned out by dint of combined patience and ingenuity was remarkably beautiful. one day as i sat watching him, a procession of fifty men went hastily down the hill, and off westward over the plain. they were solemnly led by a painted and shell-bedecked priest, and followed by the torch-bearing shu-lu-wit-si or god of fire. after they had vanished, i asked old brother what it all meant. "'they are going,' said he, 'to the city of ka-ka and the home of our others.' "four days after, towards sunset, costumed and masked in the beautiful paraphernalia of the ka-k'ok-shi, or 'good dance,' they returned in file up the same pathway, each bearing in his arms a basket filled with living, squirming turtles, which he regarded and carried as tenderly as a mother would her infant. some of the wretched reptiles were carefully wrapped in soft blankets, their heads and forefeet protruding,--and, mounted on the backs of the plume-bedecked pilgrims, made ludicrous but solemn caricatures of little children in the same position. while i was at supper upstairs that evening, the governor's brother-in-law came in. he was welcomed by the family as if a messenger from heaven. he bore in his tremulous fingers one of the much abused and rebellious turtles. paint still adhered to his hands and bare feet, which led me to infer that he had formed one of the sacred embassy. "'so you went to ka-thlu-el-lon, did you?' i asked. "'e'e,' replied the weary man, in a voice husky with long chanting, as he sank, almost exhausted, on a roll of skins which had been placed for him, and tenderly laid the turtle on the floor. no sooner did the creature find itself at liberty than it made off as fast as its lame legs would take it. of one accord, the family forsook dish, spoon, and drinking-cup, and grabbing from a sacred meal-bowl whole handfuls of the contents, hurriedly followed the turtle about the room, into dark corners, around water-jars, behind the grinding-troughs, and out into the middle of the floor again, praying and scattering meal on its back as they went. at last, strange to say, it approached the foot-sore man who had brought it. "'ha!' he exclaimed with emotion; 'see it comes to me again; ah, what great favours the fathers of all grant me this day,' and, passing his hand gently over the sprawling animal, he inhaled from his palm deeply and long, at the same time invoking the favour of the gods. then he leaned his chin upon his hand, and with large, wistful eyes regarded his ugly captive as it sprawled about, blinking its meal-bedimmed eyes, and clawing the smooth floor in memory of its native element. at this juncture i ventured a question: "'why do you not let him go, or give him some water?' "slowly the man turned his eyes toward me, an odd mixture of pain, indignation, and pity on his face, while the worshipful family stared at me with holy horror. "'poor younger brother!' he said at last, 'know you not how precious it is? it die? it will _not_ die; i tell you, it cannot die.' "'but it will die if you don't feed it and give it water.' "'i tell you it _cannot_ die; it will only change houses to-morrow, and go back to the home of its brothers. ah, well! how should _you_ know?' he mused. turning to the blinded turtle again: 'ah! my poor dear lost child or parent, my sister or brother to have been! who knows which? maybe my own great-grandfather or mother!' and with this he fell to weeping most pathetically, and, tremulous with sobs, which were echoed by the women and children, he buried his face in his hands. filled with sympathy for his grief, however mistaken, i raised the turtle to my lips and kissed its cold shell; then depositing it on the floor, hastily left the grief-stricken family to their sorrows. next day, with prayers and tender beseechings, plumes, and offerings, the poor turtle was killed, and its flesh and bones were removed and deposited in the little river, that it might 'return once more to eternal life among its comrades in the dark waters of the lake of the dead.' the shell, carefully scraped and dried, was made into a dance-rattle, and, covered by a piece of buckskin, it still hangs from the smoke-stained rafters of my brother's house. once a navajo tried to buy it for a ladle; loaded with indignant reproaches, he was turned cut of the house. were any one to venture the suggestion that the turtle no longer lived, his remark would cause a flood of tears, and he would be reminded that it had only 'changed houses and gone to live for ever in the home of "our lost others."'" in this custom we find expressed in the clearest way a belief in the transmigration of human souls into the bodies of turtles. the theory of transmigration is held by the moqui indians, who belong to the same race as the zunis. the moquis are divided into totem clans--the bear clan, deer clan, wolf clan, hare clan, and so on; they believe that the ancestors of the clans were bears, deer, wolves, hares, and so forth; and that at death the members of each clan become bears, deer, and so on according to the particular clan to which they belonged. the zuni are also divided into clans, the totems of which agree closely with those of the moquis, and one of their totems is the turtle. thus their belief in transmigration into the turtle is probably one of the regular articles of their totem faith. what then is the meaning of killing a turtle in which the soul of a kinsman is believed to be present? apparently the object is to keep up a communication with the other world in which the souls of the departed are believed to be assembled in the form of turtles. it is a common belief that the spirits of the dead return occasionally to their old homes; and accordingly the unseen visitors are welcomed and feasted by the living, and then sent upon their way. in the zuni ceremony the dead are fetched home in the form of turtles, and the killing of the turtles is the way of sending back the souls to the spirit-land. thus the general explanation given above of the custom of killing a god seems inapplicable to the zuni custom, the true meaning of which is somewhat obscure. nor is the obscurity which hangs over the subject entirely dissipated by a later and fuller account which we possess of the ceremony. from it we learn that the ceremony forms part of the elaborate ritual which these indians observe at the midsummer solstice for the purpose of ensuring an abundant supply of rain for the crops. envoys are despatched to bring "their otherselves, the tortoises," from the sacred lake kothluwalawa, to which the souls of the dead are believed to repair. when the creatures have thus been solemnly brought to zuni, they are placed in a bowl of water and dances are performed beside them by men in costume, who personate gods and goddesses. "after the ceremonial the tortoises are taken home by those who caught them and are hung by their necks to the rafters till morning, when they are thrown into pots of boiling water. the eggs are considered a great delicacy. the meat is seldom touched except as a medicine, which is curative for cutaneous diseases. part of the meat is deposited in the river with _kóhakwa_ (white shell beads) and turquoise beads as offerings to council of the gods." this account at all events confirms the inference that the tortoises are supposed to be reincarnations of the human dead, for they are called the "otherselves" of the zuni; indeed, what else should they be than the souls of the dead in the bodies of tortoises seeing that they come from the haunted lake? as the principal object of the prayers uttered and of the dances performed at these midsummer ceremonies appears to be to procure rain for the crops, it may be that the intention of bringing the tortoises to zuni and dancing before them is to intercede with the ancestral spirit, incarnate in the animals, that they may be pleased to exert their power over the waters of heaven for the benefit of their living descendants. . killing the sacred bear doubt also hangs at first sight over the meaning of the bear-sacrifice offered by the aino or ainu, a primitive people who are found in the japanese island of yezo or yesso, as well as in saghalien and the southern of the kurile islands. it is not quite easy to define the attitude of the aino towards the bear. on the one hand they give it the name of _kamui_ or "god"; but as they apply the same word to strangers, it may mean no more than a being supposed to be endowed with superhuman, or at all events extraordinary, powers. again, it is said that "the bear is their chief divinity"; "in the religion of the aino the bear plays a chief part"; "amongst the animals it is especially the bear which receives an idolatrous veneration"; "they worship it after their fashion"; "there is no doubt that this wild beast inspires more of the feeling which prompts worship than the inanimate forces of nature, and the aino may be distinguished as bear-worshippers." yet, on the other hand, they kill the bear whenever they can; "in bygone years the ainu considered bear-hunting the most manly and useful way in which a person could possibly spend his time"; "the men spend the autumn, winter, and spring in hunting deer and bears. part of their tribute or taxes is paid in skins, and they subsist on the dried meat"; bear's flesh is indeed one of their staple foods; they eat it both fresh and salted; and the skins of bears furnish them with clothing. in fact, the worship of which writers on this subject speak appears to be paid chiefly to the dead animal. thus, although they kill a bear whenever they can, "in the process of dissecting the carcass they endeavor to conciliate the deity, whose representative they have slain, by making elaborate obeisances and deprecatory salutations"; "when a bear has been killed the ainu sit down and admire it, make their salaams to it, worship it, and offer presents of _inao_"; "when a bear is trapped or wounded by an arrow, the hunters go through an apologetic or propitiatory ceremony." the skulls of slain bears receive a place of honour in their huts, or are set up on sacred posts outside the huts, and are treated with much respect: libations of millet beer, and of _sake,_ an intoxicating liquor, are offered to them; and they are addressed as "divine preservers" or "precious divinities." the skulls of foxes are also fastened to the sacred posts outside the huts; they are regarded as charms against evil spirits, and are consulted as oracles. yet it is expressly said, "the live fox is revered just as little as the bear; rather they avoid it as much as possible, considering it a wily animal." the bear can hardly, therefore, be described as a sacred animal of the aino, nor yet as a totem; for they do not call themselves bears, and they kill and eat the animal freely. however, they have a legend of a woman who had a son by a bear; and many of them who dwell in the mountains pride themselves on being descended from a bear. such people are called "descendants of the bear" (_kimun kamui sanikiri_), and in the pride of their heart they will say, "as for me, i am a child of the god of the mountains; i am descended from the divine one who rules in the mountains," meaning by "the god of the mountains" no other than the bear. it is therefore possible that, as our principal authority, the rev. j. batchelor, believes, the bear may have been the totem of an aino clan; but even if that were so it would not explain the respect shown for the animal by the whole aino people. but it is the bear-festival of the aino which concerns us here. towards the end of winter a bear cub is caught and brought into the village. if it is very small, it is suckled by an aino woman, but should there be no woman able to suckle it, the little animal is fed from the hand or the mouth. during the day it plays about in the hut with the children and is treated with great affection. but when the cub grows big enough to pain people by hugging or scratching them, he is shut up in a strong wooden cage, where he stays generally for two or three years, fed on fish and millet porridge, till it is time for him to be killed and eaten. but "it is a peculiarly striking fact that the young bear is not kept merely to furnish a good meal; rather he is regarded and honoured as a fetish, or even as a sort of higher being." in yezo the festival is generally celebrated in september or october. before it takes place the aino apologise to their gods, alleging that they have treated the bear kindly as long as they could, now they can feed him no longer, and are obliged to kill him. a man who gives a bear-feast invites his relations and friends; in a small village nearly the whole community takes part in the feast; indeed, guests from distant villages are invited and generally come, allured by the prospect of getting drunk for nothing. the form of invitation runs somewhat as follows: "i, so and so, am about to sacrifice the dear little divine thing who resides among the mountains. my friends and masters, come ye to the feast; we will then unite in the great pleasure of sending the god away. come." when all the people are assembled in front of the cage, an orator chosen for the purpose addresses the bear and tells it that they are about to send it forth to its ancestors. he craves pardon for what they are about to do to it, hopes it will not be angry, and comforts it by assuring the animal that many of the sacred whittled sticks (_inao_) and plenty of cakes and wine will be sent with it on the long journey. one speech of this sort which mr. batchelor heard ran as follows: "o thou divine one, thou wast sent into the world for us to hunt. o thou precious little divinity, we worship thee; pray hear our prayer. we have nourished thee and brought thee up with a deal of pains and trouble, all because we love thee so. now, as thou hast grown big, we are about to send thee to thy father and mother. when thou comest to them please speak well of us, and tell them how kind we have been; please come to us again and we will sacrifice thee." having been secured with ropes, the bear is then let out of the cage and assailed with a shower of blunt arrows in order to arouse it to fury. when it has spent itself in vain struggles, it is tied up to a stake, gagged and strangled, its neck being placed between two poles, which are then violently compressed, all the people eagerly helping to squeeze the animal to death. an arrow is also discharged into the beast's heart by a good marksman, but so as not to shed blood, for they think that it would be very unlucky if any of the blood were to drip on the ground. however, the men sometimes drink the warm blood of the bear "that the courage and other virtues it possesses may pass into them"; and sometimes they besmear themselves and their clothes with the blood in order to ensure success in hunting. when the animal has been strangled to death, it is skinned and its head is cut off and set in the east window of the house, where a piece of its own flesh is placed under its snout, together with a cup of its own meat boiled, some millet dumplings, and dried fish. prayers are then addressed to the dead animal; amongst other things it is sometimes invited, after going away to its father and mother, to return into the world in order that it may again be reared for sacrifice. when the bear is supposed to have finished eating its own flesh, the man who presides at the feast takes the cup containing the boiled meat, salutes it, and divides the contents between all the company present: every person, young and old alike, must taste a little. the cup is called "the cup of offering" because it has just been offered to the dead bear. when the rest of the flesh has been cooked, it is shared out in like manner among all the people, everybody partaking of at least a morsel; not to partake of the feast would be equivalent to excommunication, it would be to place the recreant outside the pale of aino fellowship. formerly every particle of the bear, except the bones, had to be eaten up at the banquet, but this rule is now relaxed. the head, on being detached from the skin, is set up on a long pole beside the sacred wands (_inao_) outside of the house, where it remains till nothing but the bare white skull is left. skulls so set up are worshipped not only at the time of the festival, but very often as long as they last. the aino assured mr. batchelor that they really do believe the spirits of the worshipful animals to reside in the skulls; that is why they address them as "divine preservers" and "precious divinities." the ceremony of killing the bear was witnessed by dr. b. scheube on the tenth of august at kunnui, which is a village on volcano bay in the island of yezo or yesso. as his description of the rite contains some interesting particulars not mentioned in the foregoing account, it may be worth while to summarize it. on entering the hut he found about thirty aino present, men, women, and children, all dressed in their best. the master of the house first offered a libation on the fireplace to the god of the fire, and the guests followed his example. then a libation was offered to the house-god in his sacred corner of the hut. meanwhile the housewife, who had nursed the bear, sat by herself, silent and sad, bursting now and then into tears. her grief was obviously unaffected, and it deepened as the festival went on. next, the master of the house and some of the guests went out of the hut and offered libations before the bear's cage. a few drops were presented to the bear in a saucer, which he at once upset. then the women and girls danced round the cage, their faces turned towards it, their knees slightly bent, rising and hopping on their toes. as they danced they clapped their hands and sang a monotonous song. the housewife and a few old women, who might have nursed many bears, danced tearfully, stretching out their arms to the bear, and addressing it in terms of endearment. the young folks were less affected; they laughed as well as sang. disturbed by the noise, the bear began to rush about his cage and howl lamentably. next libations were offered at the _inao_ (_inabos_) or sacred wands which stand outside of an aino hut. these wands are about a couple of feet high, and are whittled at the top into spiral shavings. five new wands with bamboo leaves attached to them had been set up for the festival. this is regularly done when a bear is killed; the leaves mean that the animal may come to life again. then the bear was let out of his cage, a rope was thrown round his neck, and he was led about in the neighbourhood of the hut. while this was being done the men, headed by a chief, shot at the beast with arrows tipped with wooden buttons. dr. scheube had to do so also. then the bear was taken before the sacred wands, a stick was put in his mouth, nine men knelt on him and pressed his neck against a beam. in five minutes the animal had expired without uttering a sound. meantime the women and girls had taken post behind the men, where they danced, lamenting, and beating the men who were killing the bear. the bear's carcase was next placed on the mat before the sacred wands; and a sword and quiver, taken from the wands, were hung round the beast's neck. being a she-bear, it was also adorned with a necklace and ear-rings. then food and drink were offered to it, in the shape of millet-broth, millet-cakes, and a pot of _sake._ the men now sat down on mats before the dead bear, offered libations to it, and drank deep. meanwhile the women and girls had laid aside all marks of sorrow, and danced merrily, none more merrily than the old women. when the mirth was at its height two young aino, who had let the bear out of his cage, mounted the roof of the hut and threw cakes of millet among the company, who all scrambled for them without distinction of age or sex. the bear was next skinned and disembowelled, and the trunk severed from the head, to which the skin was left hanging. the blood, caught in cups, was eagerly swallowed by the men. none of the women or children appeared to drink the blood, though custom did not forbid them to do so. the liver was cut in small pieces and eaten raw, with salt, the women and children getting their share. the flesh and the rest of the vitals were taken into the house to be kept till the next day but one, and then to be divided among the persons who had been present at the feast. blood and liver were offered to dr. scheube. while the bear was being disembowelled, the women and girls danced the same dance which they had danced at the beginning--not, however, round the cage, but in front of the sacred wands. at this dance the old women, who had been merry a moment before, again shed tears freely. after the brain had been extracted from the bear's head and swallowed with salt, the skull, detached from the skin, was hung on a pole beside the sacred wands. the stick with which the bear had been gagged was also fastened to the pole, and so were the sword and quiver which had been hung on the carcase. the latter were removed in about an hour, but the rest remained standing. the whole company, men and women, danced noisily before the pole; and another drinking-bout, in which the women joined, closed the festival. perhaps the first published account of the bear-feast of the aino is one which was given to the world by a japanese writer in . it has been translated into french and runs thus: "when they find a young bear, they bring it home, and the wife suckles it. when it is grown they feed it with fish and fowl and kill it in winter for the sake of the liver, which they esteem an antidote to poison, the worms, colic, and disorders of the stomach. it is of a very bitter taste, and is good for nothing if the bear has been killed in summer. this butchery begins in the first japanese month. for this purpose they put the animal's head between two long poles, which are squeezed together by fifty or sixty people, both men and women. when the bear is dead they eat his flesh, keep the liver as a medicine, and sell the skin, which is black and commonly six feet long, but the longest measure twelve feet. as soon as he is skinned, the persons who nourished the beast begin to bewail him; afterwards they make little cakes to regale those who helped them." the aino of saghalien rear bear cubs and kill them with similar ceremonies. we are told that they do not look upon the bear as a god but only as a messenger whom they despatch with various commissions to the god of the forest. the animal is kept for about two years in a cage, and then killed at a festival, which always takes place in winter and at night. the day before the sacrifice is devoted to lamentation, old women relieving each other in the duty of weeping and groaning in front of the bear's cage. then about the middle of the night or very early in the morning an orator makes a long speech to the beast, reminding him how they have taken care of him, and fed him well, and bathed him in the river, and made him warm and comfortable. "now," he proceeds, "we are holding a great festival in your honour. be not afraid. we will not hurt you. we will only kill you and send you to the god of the forest who loves you. we are about to offer you a good dinner, the best you have ever eaten among us, and we will all weep for you together. the aino who will kill you is the best shot among us. there he is, he weeps and asks your forgiveness; you will feel almost nothing, it will be done so quickly. we cannot feed you always, as you will understand. we have done enough for you; it is now your turn to sacrifice yourself for us. you will ask god to send us, for the winter, plenty of otters and sables, and for the summer, seals and fish in abundance. do not forget our messages, we love you much, and our children will never forget you." when the bear has partaken of his last meal amid the general emotion of the spectators, the old women weeping afresh and the men uttering stifled cries, he is strapped, not without difficulty and danger, and being let out of the cage is led on leash or dragged, according to the state of his temper, thrice round his cage, then round his master's house, and lastly round the house of the orator. thereupon he is tied up to a tree, which is decked with sacred whittled sticks (_inao_) of the usual sort; and the orator again addresses him in a long harangue, which sometimes lasts till the day is beginning to break. "remember," he cries, "remember! i remind you of your whole life and of the services we have rendered you. it is now for you to do your duty. do not forget what i have asked of you. you will tell the gods to give us riches, that our hunters may return from the forest laden with rare furs and animals good to eat; that our fishers may find troops of seals on the shore and in the sea, and that their nets may crack under the weight of the fish. we have no hope but in you. the evil spirits laugh at us, and too often they are unfavourable and malignant to us, but they will bow before you. we have given you food and joy and health; now we kill you in order that you may in return send riches to us and to our children." to this discourse the bear, more and more surly and agitated, listens without conviction; round and round the tree he paces and howls lamentably, till, just as the first beams of the rising sun light up the scene, an archer speeds an arrow to his heart. no sooner has he done so, than the marksman throws away his bow and flings himself on the ground, and the old men and women do the same, weeping and sobbing. then they offer the dead beast a repast of rice and wild potatoes, and having spoken to him in terms of pity and thanked him for what he has done and suffered, they cut off his head and paws and keep them as sacred things. a banquet on the flesh and blood of the bear follows. women were formerly excluded from it, but now they share with the men. the blood is drunk warm by all present; the flesh is boiled, custom forbids it to be roasted. and as the relics of the bear may not enter the house by the door, and aino houses in saghalien have no windows, a man gets up on the roof and lets the flesh, the head, and the skin down through the smoke-hole. rice and wild potatoes are then offered to the head, and a pipe, tobacco, and matches are considerately placed beside it. custom requires that the guests should eat up the whole animal before they depart; the use of salt and pepper at the meal is forbidden; and no morsel of the flesh may be given to the dogs. when the banquet is over, the head is carried away into the depth of the forest and deposited on a heap of bears' skulls, the bleached and mouldering relics of similar festivals in the past. the gilyaks, a tunguzian people of eastern siberia, hold a bear-festival of the same sort once a year in january. "the bear is the object of the most refined solicitude of an entire village and plays the chief part in their religious ceremonies." an old she-bear is shot and her cub is reared, but not suckled, in the village. when the bear is big enough he is taken from his cage and dragged through the village. but first they lead him to the bank of the river, for this is believed to ensure abundance of fish to each family. he is then taken into every house in the village, where fish, brandy, and so forth are offered to him. some people prostrate themselves before the beast. his entrance into a house is supposed to bring a blessing; and if he snuffs at the food offered to him, this also is a blessing. nevertheless they tease and worry, poke and tickle the animal continually, so that he is surly and snappish. after being thus taken to every house, he is tied to a peg and shot dead with arrows. his head is then cut off, decked with shavings, and placed on the table where the feast is set out. here they beg pardon of the beast and worship him. then his flesh is roasted and eaten in special vessels of wood finely carved. they do not eat the flesh raw nor drink the blood, as the aino do. the brain and entrails are eaten last; and the skull, still decked with shavings, is placed on a tree near the house. then the people sing and both sexes dance in ranks, as bears. one of these bear-festivals was witnessed by the russian traveller l. von schrenck and his companions at the gilyak village of tebach in january . from his detailed report of the ceremony we may gather some particulars which are not noticed in the briefer accounts which i have just summarised. the bear, he tells us, plays a great part in the life of all the peoples inhabiting the region of the amoor and siberia as far as kamtchatka, but among none of them is his importance greater than among the gilyaks. the immense size which the animal attains in the valley of the amoor, his ferocity whetted by hunger, and the frequency of his appearance, all combine to make him the most dreaded beast of prey in the country. no wonder, therefore, that the fancy of the gilyaks is busied with him and surrounds him, both in life and in death, with a sort of halo of superstitious fear. thus, for example, it is thought that if a gilyak falls in combat with a bear, his soul transmigrates into the body of the beast. nevertheless his flesh has an irresistible attraction for the gilyak palate, especially when the animal has been kept in captivity for some time and fattened on fish, which gives the flesh, in the opinion of the gilyaks, a peculiarly delicious flavour. but in order to enjoy this dainty with impunity they deem it needful to perform a long series of ceremonies, of which the intention is to delude the living bear by a show of respect, and to appease the anger of the dead animal by the homage paid to his departed spirit. the marks of respect begin as soon as the beast is captured. he is brought home in triumph and kept in a cage, where all the villagers take it in turns to feed him. for although he may have been captured or purchased by one man, he belongs in a manner to the whole village. his flesh will furnish a common feast, and hence all must contribute to support him in his life. the length of time he is kept in captivity depends on his age. old bears are kept only a few months; cubs are kept till they are full-grown. a thick layer of fat on the captive bear gives the signal for the festival, which is always held in winter, generally in december but sometimes in january or february. at the festival witnessed by the russian travellers, which lasted a good many days, three bears were killed and eaten. more than once the animals were led about in procession and compelled to enter every house in the village, where they were fed as a mark of honour, and to show that they were welcome guests. but before the beasts set out on this round of visits, the gilyaks played at skipping-rope in presence, and perhaps, as l. von schrenck inclined to believe, in honour of the animals. the night before they were killed, the three bears were led by moonlight a long way on the ice of the frozen river. that night no one in the village might sleep. next day, after the animals had been again led down the steep bank to the river, and conducted thrice round the hole in the ice from which the women of the village drew their water, they were taken to an appointed place not far from the village, and shot to death with arrows. the place of sacrifice or execution was marked as holy by being surrounded with whittled sticks, from the tops of which shavings hung in curls. such sticks are with the gilyaks, as with the aino, the regular symbols that accompany all religious ceremonies. when the house has been arranged and decorated for their reception, the skins of the bears, with their heads attached to them, are brought into it, not, however, by the door, but through a window, and then hung on a sort of scaffold opposite the hearth on which the flesh is to be cooked. the boiling of the bears' flesh among the gilyaks is done only by the oldest men, whose high privilege it is; women and children, young men and boys have no part in it. the task is performed slowly and deliberately, with a certain solemnity. on the occasion described by the russian travellers the kettle was first of all surrounded with a thick wreath of shavings, and then filled with snow, for the use of water to cook bear's flesh is forbidden. meanwhile a large wooden trough, richly adorned with arabesques and carvings of all sorts, was hung immediately under the snouts of the bears; on one side of the trough was carved in relief a bear, on the other side a toad. when the carcases were being cut up, each leg was laid on the ground in front of the bears, as if to ask their leave, before being placed in the kettle; and the boiled flesh was fished out of the kettle with an iron hook, and set in the trough before the bears, in order that they might be the first to taste of their own flesh. as fast, too, as the fat was cut in strips it was hung up in front of the bears, and afterwards laid in a small wooden trough on the ground before them. last of all the inner organs of the beasts were cut up and placed in small vessels. at the same time the women made bandages out of parti-coloured rags, and after sunset these bandages were tied round the bears' snouts just below the eyes "in order to dry the tears that flowed from them." as soon as the ceremony of wiping away poor bruin's tears had been performed, the assembled gilyaks set to work in earnest to devour his flesh. the broth obtained by boiling the meat had already been partaken of. the wooden bowls, platters, and spoons out of which the gilyaks eat the broth and flesh of the bears on these occasions are always made specially for the purpose at the festival and only then; they are elaborately ornamented with carved figures of bears and other devices that refer to the animal or the festival, and the people have a strong superstitious scruple against parting with them. after the bones had been picked clean they were put back in the kettle in which the flesh had been boiled. and when the festal meal was over, an old man took his stand at the door of the house with a branch of fir in his hand, with which, as the people passed out, he gave a light blow to every one who had eaten of the bear's flesh or fat, perhaps as a punishment for their treatment of the worshipful animal. in the afternoon the women performed a strange dance. only one woman danced at a time, throwing the upper part of her body into the oddest postures, while she held in her hands a branch of fir or a kind of wooden castanets. the other women meanwhile played an accompaniment by drumming on the beams of the house with clubs. von schrenk believed that after the flesh of the bear has been eaten the bones and the skull are solemnly carried out by the oldest people to a place in the forest not far from the village. there all the bones except the skull are buried. after that a young tree is felled a few inches above the ground, its stump cleft, and the skull wedged into the cleft. when the grass grows over the spot, the skull disappears from view, and that is the end of the bear. another description of the bear-festivals of the gilyaks has been given us by mr. leo sternberg. it agrees substantially with the foregoing accounts, but a few particulars in it may be noted. according to mr. sternberg, the festival is usually held in honour of a deceased relation: the next of kin either buys or catches a bear cub and nurtures it for two or three years till it is ready for the sacrifice. only certain distinguished guests (_narch-en_) are privileged to partake of the bear's flesh, but the host and members of his clan eat a broth made from the flesh; great quantities of this broth are prepared and consumed on the occasion. the guests of honour (_narch-en_) must belong to the clan into which the host's daughters and the other women of his clan are married: one of these guests, usually the host's son-in-law, is entrusted with the duty of shooting the bear dead with an arrow. the skin, head, and flesh of the slain bear are brought into the house not through the door but through the smoke-hole; a quiver full of arrows is laid under the head and beside it are deposited tobacco, sugar, and other food. the soul of the bear is supposed to carry off the souls of these things with it on the far journey. a special vessel is used for cooking the bear's flesh, and the fire must be kindled by a sacred apparatus of flint and steel, which belongs to the clan and is handed down from generation to generation, but which is never used to light fires except on these solemn occasions. of all the many viands cooked for the consumption of the assembled people a portion is placed in a special vessel and set before the bear's head: this is called "feeding the head." after the bear has been killed, dogs are sacrificed in couples of male and female. before being throttled, they are fed and invited to go to their lord on the highest mountain, to change their skins, and to return next year in the form of bears. the soul of the dead bear departs to the same lord, who is also lord of the primaeval forest; it goes away laden with the offerings that have been made to it, and attended by the souls of the dogs and also by the souls of the sacred whittled sticks, which figure prominently at the festival. the goldi, neighbours of the gilyaks, treat the bear in much the same way. they hunt and kill it; but sometimes they capture a live bear and keep him in a cage, feeding him well and calling him their son and brother. then at a great festival he is taken from his cage, paraded about with marked consideration, and afterwards killed and eaten. "the skull, jaw-bones, and ears are then suspended on a tree, as an antidote against evil spirits; but the flesh is eaten and much relished, for they believe that all who partake of it acquire a zest for the chase, and become courageous." the orotchis, another tunguzian people of the region of the amoor, hold bear-festivals of the same general character. any one who catches a bear cub considers it his bounden duty to rear it in a cage for about three years, in order at the end of that time to kill it publicly and eat the flesh with his friends. the feasts being public, though organised by individuals, the people try to have one in each orotchi village every year in turn. when the bear is taken out of his cage, he is led about by means of ropes to all the huts, accompanied by people armed with lances, bows, and arrows. at each hut the bear and bear-leaders are treated to something good to eat and drink. this goes on for several days until all the huts, not only in that village but also in the next, have been visited. the days are given up to sport and noisy jollity. then the bear is tied to a tree or wooden pillar and shot to death by the arrows of the crowd, after which its flesh is roasted and eaten. among the orotchis of the tundja river women take part in the bear-feasts, while among the orotchis of the river vi the women will not even touch bear's flesh. in the treatment of the captive bear by these tribes there are features which can hardly be distinguished from worship. such, for example, are the prayers offered to it both alive and dead; the offerings of food, including portions of its own flesh, laid before the animal's skull; and the gilyak custom of leading the living beast to the river in order to ensure a supply of fish, and of conducting him from house to house in order that every family may receive his blessing, just as in europe a may-tree or a personal representative of the tree-spirit used to be taken from door to door in spring for the sake of diffusing among all and sundry the fresh energies of reviving nature. again, the solemn participation in his flesh and blood, and particularly the aino custom of sharing the contents of the cup which had been consecrated by being set before the dead beast, are strongly suggestive of a sacrament, and the suggestion is confirmed by the gilyak practice of reserving special vessels to hold the flesh and cooking it on a fire kindled by a sacred apparatus which is never employed except on these religious occasions. indeed our principal authority on aino religion, the rev. john batchelor, frankly describes as worship the ceremonious respect which the aino pay to the bear, and he affirms that the animal is undoubtedly one of their gods. certainly the aino appear to apply their name for god (_kamui_) freely to the bear; but, as mr. batchelor himself points out, that word is used with many different shades of meaning and is applied to a great variety of objects, so that from its application to the bear we cannot safely argue that the animal is actually regarded as a deity. indeed we are expressly told that the aino of saghalien do not consider the bear to be a god but only a messenger to the gods, and the message with which they charge the animal at its death bears out the statement. apparently the gilyaks also look on the bear in the light of an envoy despatched with presents to the lord of the mountain, on whom the welfare of the people depends. at the same time they treat the animal as a being of a higher order than man, in fact as a minor deity, whose presence in the village, so long as he is kept and fed, diffuses blessings, especially by keeping at bay the swarms of evil spirits who are constantly lying in wait for people, stealing their goods and destroying their bodies by sickness and disease. moreover, by partaking of the flesh, blood, or broth of the bear, the gilyaks, the aino, and the goldi are all of opinion that they acquire some portion of the animal's mighty powers, particularly his courage and strength. no wonder, therefore, that they should treat so great a benefactor with marks of the highest respect and affection. some light may be thrown on the ambiguous attitude of the aino to bears by comparing the similar treatment which they accord to other creatures. for example, they regard the eagle-owl as a good deity who by his hooting warns men of threatened evil and defends them against it; hence he is loved, trusted, and devoutly worshipped as a divine mediator between men and the creator. the various names applied to him are significant both of his divinity and of his mediatorship. whenever an opportunity offers, one of these divine birds is captured and kept in a cage, where he is greeted with the endearing titles of "beloved god" and "dear little divinity." nevertheless the time comes when the dear little divinity is throttled and sent away in his capacity of mediator to take a message to the superior gods or to the creator himself. the following is the form of prayer addressed to the eagle-owl when it is about to be sacrificed: "beloved deity, we have brought you up because we loved you, and now we are about to send you to your father. we herewith offer you food, _inao,_ wine, and cakes; take them to your parent, and he will be very pleased. when you come to him say, 'i have lived a long time among the ainu, where an ainu father and an ainu mother reared me. i now come to thee. i have brought a variety of good things. i saw while living in ainuland a great deal of distress. i observed that some of the people were possessed by demons, some were wounded by wild animals, some were hurt by landslides, others suffered shipwreck, and many were attacked by disease. the people are in great straits. my father, hear me, and hasten to look upon the ainu and help them.' if you do this, your father will help us." again, the aino keep eagles in cages, worship them as divinities, and ask them to defend the people from evil. yet they offer the bird in sacrifice, and when they are about to do so they pray to him, saying: "o precious divinity, o thou divine bird, pray listen to my words. thou dost not belong to this world, for thy home is with the creator and his golden eagles. this being so, i present thee with these _inao_ and cakes and other precious things. do thou ride upon the _inao_ and ascend to thy home in the glorious heavens. when thou arrivest, assemble the deities of thy own kind together and thank them for us for having governed the world. do thou come again, i beseech thee, and rule over us. o my precious one, go thou quietly." once more, the aino revere hawks, keep them in cages, and offer them in sacrifice. at the time of killing one of them the following prayer should be addressed to the bird: "o divine hawk, thou art an expert hunter, please cause thy cleverness to descend on me." if a hawk is well treated in captivity and prayed to after this fashion when he is about to be killed, he will surely send help to the hunter. thus the aino hopes to profit in various ways by slaughtering the creatures, which, nevertheless, he treats as divine. he expects them to carry messages for him to their kindred or to the gods in the upper world; he hopes to partake of their virtues by swallowing parts of their bodies or in other ways; and apparently he looks forward to their bodily resurrection in this world, which will enable him again to catch and kill them, and again to reap all the benefits which he has already derived from their slaughter. for in the prayers addressed to the worshipful bear and the worshipful eagle before they are knocked on the head the creatures are invited to come again, which seems clearly to point to a faith in their future resurrection. if any doubt could exist on this head, it would be dispelled by the evidence of mr. batchelor, who tells us that the aino "are firmly convinced that the spirits of birds and animals killed in hunting or offered in sacrifice come and live again upon the earth clothed with a body; and they believe, further, that they appear here for the special benefit of men, particularly ainu hunters." the aino, mr. batchelor tells us, "confessedly slays and eats the beast that another may come in its place and be treated in like manner"; and at the time of sacrificing the creatures "prayers are said to them which form a request that they will come again and furnish viands for another feast, as if it were an honour to them to be thus killed and eaten, and a pleasure as well. indeed such is the people's idea." these last observations, as the context shows, refer especially to the sacrifice of bears. thus among the benefits which the aino anticipates from the slaughter of the worshipful animals not the least substantial is that of gorging himself on their flesh and blood, both on the present and on many a similar occasion hereafter; and that pleasing prospect again is derived from his firm faith in the spiritual immortality and bodily resurrection of the dead animals. a like faith is shared by many savage hunters in many parts of the world and has given rise to a variety of quaint customs, some of which will be described presently. meantime it is not unimportant to observe that the solemn festivals at which the aino, the gilyaks, and other tribes slaughter the tame caged bears with demonstrations of respect and sorrow, are probably nothing but an extension or glorification of similar rites which the hunter performs over any wild bear which he chances to kill in the forest. indeed with regard to the gilyaks we are expressly informed that this is the case. if we would understand the meaning of the gilyak ritual, says mr. sternberg, "we must above all remember that the bear-festivals are not, as is usually but falsely assumed, celebrated only at the killing of a house-bear but are held on every occasion when a gilyak succeeds in slaughtering a bear in the chase. it is true that in such cases the festival assumes less imposing dimensions, but in its essence it remains the same. when the head and skin of a bear killed in the forest are brought into the village, they are accorded a triumphal reception with music and solemn ceremonial. the head is laid on a consecrated scaffold, fed, and treated with offerings, just as at the killing of a house-bear; and the guests of honour (_narch-en_) are also assembled. so, too, dogs are sacrificed, and the bones of the bear are preserved in the same place and with the same marks of respect as the bones of a house-bear. hence the great winter festival is only an extension of the rite which is observed at the slaughter of every bear." thus the apparent contradiction in the practice of these tribes, who venerate and almost deify the animals which they habitually hunt, kill, and eat, is not so flagrant as at first sight it appears to us: the people have reasons, and some very practical reasons, for acting as they do. for the savage is by no means so illogical and unpractical as to superficial observers he is apt to seem; he has thought deeply on the questions which immediately concern him, he reasons about them, and though his conclusions often diverge very widely from ours, we ought not to deny him the credit of patient and prolonged meditation on some fundamental problems of human existence. in the present case, if he treats bears in general as creatures wholly subservient to human needs and yet singles out certain individuals of the species for homage which almost amounts to deification, we must not hastily set him down as irrational and inconsistent, but must endeavour to place ourselves at his point of view, to see things as he sees them, and to divest ourselves of the prepossessions which tinge so deeply our own views of the world. if we do so, we shall probably discover that, however absurd his conduct may appear to us, the savage nevertheless generally acts on a train of reasoning which seems to him in harmony with the facts of his limited experience. this i propose to illustrate in the following chapter, where i shall attempt to show that the solemn ceremonial of the bear-festival among the ainos and other tribes of north-eastern asia is only a particularly striking example of the respect which on the principles of his rude philosophy the savage habitually pays to the animals which he kills and eats. liii. the propitiation of wild animals by hunters the explanation of life by the theory of an indwelling and practically immortal soul is one which the savage does not confine to human beings but extends to the animate creation in general. in so doing he is more liberal and perhaps more logical than the civilised man, who commonly denies to animals that privilege of immortality which he claims for himself. the savage is not so proud; he commonly believes that animals are endowed with feelings and intelligence like those of men, and that, like men, they possess souls which survive the death of their bodies either to wander about as disembodied spirits or to be born again in animal form. thus to the savage, who regards all living creatures as practically on a footing of equality with man, the act of killing and eating an animal must wear a very different aspect from that which the same act presents to us, who regard the intelligence of animals as far inferior to our own and deny them the possession of immortal souls. hence on the principles of his rude philosophy the primitive hunter who slays an animal believes himself exposed to the vengeance either of its disembodied spirit or of all the other animals of the same species, whom he considers as knit together, like men, by the ties of kin and the obligations of the blood feud, and therefore as bound to resent the injury done to one of their number. accordingly the savage makes it a rule to spare the life of those animals which he has no pressing motive for killing, at least such fierce and dangerous animals as are likely to exact a bloody vengeance for the slaughter of one of their kind. crocodiles are animals of this sort. they are only found in hot countries, where, as a rule, food is abundant and primitive man has therefore little reason to kill them for the sake of their tough and unpalatable flesh. hence it is a custom with some savages to spare crocodiles, or rather only to kill them in obedience to the law of blood feud, that is, as a retaliation for the slaughter of men by crocodiles. for example, the dyaks of borneo will not kill a crocodile unless a crocodile has first killed a man. "for why, say they, should they commit an act of aggression, when he and his kindred can so easily repay them? but should the alligator take a human life, revenge becomes a sacred duty of the living relatives, who will trap the man-eater in the spirit of an officer of justice pursuing a criminal. others, even then, hang back, reluctant to embroil themselves in a quarrel which does not concern them. the man-eating alligator is supposed to be pursued by a righteous nemesis; and whenever one is caught they have a profound conviction that it must be the guilty one, or his accomplice." like the dyaks, the natives of madagascar never kill a crocodile "except in retaliation for one of their friends who has been destroyed by a crocodile. they believe that the wanton destruction of one of these reptiles will be followed by the loss of human life, in accordance with the principle of _lex talionis._" the people who live near the lake itasy in madagascar make a yearly proclamation to the crocodiles, announcing that they will revenge the death of some of their friends by killing as many crocodiles in return, and warning all well-disposed crocodiles to keep out of the way, as they have no quarrel with them, but only with their evil-minded relations who have taken human life. various tribes of madagascar believe themselves to be descended from crocodiles, and accordingly they view the scaly reptile as, to all intents and purposes, a man and a brother. if one of the animals should so far forget himself as to devour one of his human kinsfolk, the chief of the tribe, or in his absence an old man familiar with the tribal customs, repairs at the head of the people to the edge of the water, and summons the family of the culprit to deliver him up to the arm of justice. a hook is then baited and cast into the river or lake. next day the guilty brother, or one of his family, is dragged ashore, and after his crime has been clearly brought home to him by a strict interrogation, he is sentenced to death and executed. the claims of justice being thus satisfied and the majesty of the law fully vindicated, the deceased crocodile is lamented and buried like a kinsman; a mound is raised over his relics and a stone marks the place of his head. again, the tiger is another of those dangerous beasts whom the savage prefers to leave alone, lest by killing one of the species he should excite the hostility of the rest. no consideration will induce a sumatran to catch or wound a tiger except in self-defence or immediately after a tiger has destroyed a friend or relation. when a european has set traps for tigers, the people of the neighbourhood have been known to go by night to the place and explain to the animals that the traps are not set by them nor with their consent. the inhabitants of the hills near rajamahall, in bengal, are very averse to killing a tiger, unless one of their kinsfolk has been carried off by one of the beasts. in that case they go out for the purpose of hunting and slaying a tiger; and when they have succeeded they lay their bows and arrows on the carcase and invoke god, declaring that they slew the animal in retaliation for the loss of a kinsman. vengeance having been thus taken, they swear not to attack another tiger except under similar provocation. the indians of carolina would not molest snakes when they came upon them, but would pass by on the other side of the path, believing that if they were to kill a serpent, the reptile's kindred would destroy some of their brethren, friends, or relations in return. so the seminole indians spared the rattlesnake, because they feared that the soul of the dead rattlesnake would incite its kinsfolk to take vengeance. the cherokee regard the rattlesnake as the chief of the snake tribe and fear and respect him accordingly. few cherokee will venture to kill a rattlesnake, unless they cannot help it, and even then they must atone for the crime by craving pardon of the snake's ghost either in their own person or through the mediation of a priest, according to a set formula. if these precautions are neglected, the kinsfolk of the dead snake will send one of their number as an avenger of blood, who will track down the murderer and sting him to death. no ordinary cherokee dares to kill a wolf, if he can possibly help it; for he believes that the kindred of the slain beast would surely avenge its death, and that the weapon with which the deed had been done would be quite useless for the future, unless it were cleaned and exorcised by a medicine-man. however, certain persons who know the proper rites of atonement for such a crime can kill wolves with impunity, and they are sometimes hired to do so by people who have suffered from the raids of the wolves on their cattle or fish-traps. in jebel-nuba, a district of the eastern sudan, it is forbidden to touch the nests or remove the young of a species of black birds, resembling our blackbirds, because the people believe that the parent birds would avenge the wrong by causing a stormy wind to blow, which would destroy the harvest. but the savage clearly cannot afford to spare all animals. he must either eat some of them or starve, and when the question thus comes to be whether he or the animal must perish, he is forced to overcome his superstitious scruples and take the life of the beast. at the same time he does all he can to appease his victims and their kinsfolk. even in the act of killing them he testifies his respect for them, endeavours to excuse or even conceal his share in procuring their death, and promises that their remains will be honourably treated. by thus robbing death of its terrors, he hopes to reconcile his victims to their fate and to induce their fellows to come and be killed also. for example, it was a principle with the kamtchatkans never to kill a land or sea animal without first making excuses to it and begging that the animal would not take it ill. also they offered it cedarnuts and so forth, to make it think that it was not a victim but a guest at a feast. they believed that this hindered other animals of the same species from growing shy. for instance, after they had killed a bear and feasted on its flesh, the host would bring the bear's head before the company, wrap it in grass, and present it with a variety of trifles. then he would lay the blame of the bear's death on the russians, and bid the beast wreak his wrath upon them. also he would ask the bear to inform the other bears how well he had been treated, that they too might come without fear. seals, sea-lions, and other animals were treated by the kamtchatkans with the same ceremonious respect. moreover, they used to insert sprigs of a plant resembling bear's wort in the mouths of the animals they killed; after which they would exhort the grinning skulls to have no fear but to go and tell it to their fellows, that they also might come and be caught and so partake of this splendid hospitality. when the ostiaks have hunted and killed a bear, they cut off its head and hang it on a tree. then they gather round in a circle and pay it divine honours. next they run towards the carcase uttering lamentations and saying, "who killed you? it was the russians. who cut off your head? it was a russian axe. who skinned you? it was a knife made by a russian." they explain, too, that the feathers which sped the arrow on its flight came from the wing of a strange bird, and that they did nothing but let the arrow go. they do all this because they believe that the wandering ghost of the slain bear would attack them on the first opportunity, if they did not thus appease it. or they stuff the skin of the slain bear with hay; and after celebrating their victory with songs of mockery and insult, after spitting on and kicking it, they set it up on its hind legs, "and then, for a considerable time, they bestow on it all the veneration due to a guardian god." when a party of koryak have killed a bear or a wolf, they skin the beast and dress one of themselves in the skin. then they dance round the skin-clad man, saying that it was not they who killed the animal, but some one else, generally a russian. when they kill a fox they skin it, wrap the body in grass, and bid him go tell his companions how hospitably he has been received, and how he has received a new cloak instead of his old one. a fuller account of the koryak ceremonies is given by a more recent writer. he tells us that when a dead bear is brought to the house, the women come out to meet it, dancing with firebrands. the bear-skin is taken off along with the head; and one of the women puts on the skin, dances in it, and entreats the bear not to be angry, but to be kind to the people. at the same time they offer meat on a wooden platter to the dead beast, saying, "eat, friend." afterwards a ceremony is performed for the purpose of sending the dead bear, or rather his spirit, away back to his home. he is provided with provisions for the journey in the shape of puddings or reindeer-flesh packed in a grass bag. his skin is stuffed with grass and carried round the house, after which he is supposed to depart towards the rising sun. the intention of the ceremonies is to protect the people from the wrath of the slain bear and his kinsfolk, and so to ensure success in future bear-hunts. the finns used to try to persuade a slain bear that he had not been killed by them, but had fallen from a tree, or met his death in some other way; moreover, they held a funeral festival in his honour, at the close of which bards expatiated on the homage that had been paid to him, urging him to report to the other bears the high consideration with which he had been treated, in order that they also, following his example, might come and be slain. when the lapps had succeeded in killing a bear with impunity, they thanked him for not hurting them and for not breaking the clubs and spears which had given him his death wounds; and they prayed that he would not visit his death upon them by sending storms or in any other way. his flesh then furnished a feast. the reverence of hunters for the bear whom they regularly kill and eat may thus be traced all along the northern region of the old world from bering's straits to lappland. it reappears in similar forms in north america. with the american indians a bear hunt was an important event for which they prepared by long fasts and purgations. before setting out they offered expiatory sacrifices to the souls of bears slain in previous hunts, and besought them to be favourable to the hunters. when a bear was killed the hunter lit his pipe, and putting the mouth of it between the bear's lips, blew into the bowl, filling the beast's mouth with smoke. then he begged the bear not to be angry at having been killed, and not to thwart him afterwards in the chase. the carcase was roasted whole and eaten; not a morsel of the flesh might be left over. the head, painted red and blue, was hung on a post and addressed by orators, who heaped praise on the dead beast. when men of the bear clan in the ottawa tribe killed a bear, they made him a feast of his own flesh, and addressed him thus: "cherish us no grudge because we have killed you. you have sense; you see that our children are hungry. they love you and wish to take you into their bodies. is it not glorious to be eaten by the children of a chief?" amongst the nootka indians of british columbia, when a bear had been killed, it was brought in and seated before the head chief in an upright posture, with a chief's bonnet, wrought in figures, on its head, and its fur powdered over with white down. a tray of provisions was then set before it, and it was invited by words and gestures to eat. after that the animal was skinned, boiled, and eaten. a like respect is testified for other dangerous creatures by the hunters who regularly trap and kill them. when caffre hunters are in the act of showering spears on an elephant, they call out, "don't kill us, great captain; don't strike or tread upon us, mighty chief." when he is dead they make their excuses to him, pretending that his death was a pure accident. as a mark of respect they bury his trunk with much solemn ceremony; for they say that "the elephant is a great lord; his trunk is his hand." before the amaxosa caffres attack an elephant they shout to the animal and beg him to pardon them for the slaughter they are about to perpetrate, professing great submission to his person and explaining clearly the need they have of his tusks to enable them to procure beads and supply their wants. when they have killed him they bury in the ground, along with the end of his trunk, a few of the articles they have obtained for the ivory, thus hoping to avert some mishap that would otherwise befall them. amongst some tribes of eastern africa, when a lion is killed, the carcase is brought before the king, who does homage to it by prostrating himself on the ground and rubbing his face on the muzzle of the beast. in some parts of western africa if a negro kills a leopard he is bound fast and brought before the chiefs for having killed one of their peers. the man defends himself on the plea that the leopard is chief of the forest and therefore a stranger. he is then set at liberty and rewarded. but the dead leopard, adorned with a chief's bonnet, is set up in the village, where nightly dances are held in its honour. the baganda greatly fear the ghosts of buffaloes which they have killed, and they always appease these dangerous spirits. on no account will they bring the head of a slain buffalo into a village or into a garden of plantains: they always eat the flesh of the head in the open country. afterwards they place the skull in a small hut built for the purpose, where they pour out beer as an offering and pray to the ghost to stay where he is and not to harm them. another formidable beast whose life the savage hunter takes with joy, yet with fear and trembling, is the whale. after the slaughter of a whale the maritime koryak of north-eastern siberia hold a communal festival, the essential part of which "is based on the conception that the whale killed has come on a visit to the village; that it is staying for some time, during which it is treated with great respect; that it then returns to the sea to repeat its visit the following year; that it will induce its relatives to come along, telling them of the hospitable reception that has been accorded to it. according to the koryak ideas, the whales, like all other animals, constitute one tribe, or rather family, of related individuals, who live in villages like the koryak. they avenge the murder of one of their number, and are grateful for kindnesses that they may have received." when the inhabitants of the isle of st. mary, to the north of madagascar, go a-whaling, they single out the young whales for attack and "humbly beg the mother's pardon, stating the necessity that drives them to kill her progeny, and requesting that she will be pleased to go below while the deed is doing, that her maternal feelings may not be outraged by witnessing what must cause her so much uneasiness." an ajumba hunter having killed a female hippopotamus on lake azyingo in west africa, the animal was decapitated and its quarters and bowels removed. then the hunter, naked, stepped into the hollow of the ribs, and kneeling down in the bloody pool washed his whole body with the blood and excretions of the animal, while he prayed to the soul of the hippopotamus not to bear him a grudge for having killed her and so blighted her hopes of future maternity; and he further entreated the ghost not to stir up other hippopotamuses to avenge her death by butting at and capsizing his canoe. the ounce, a leopard-like creature, is dreaded for its depredations by the indians of brazil. when they have caught one of these animals in a snare, they kill it and carry the body home to the village. there the women deck the carcase with feathers of many colours, put bracelets on its legs, and weep over it, saying, "i pray thee not to take vengeance on our little ones for having been caught and killed through thine own ignorance. for it was not we who deceived thee, it was thyself. our husbands only set the trap to catch animals that are good to eat; they never thought to take thee in it. therefore, let not thy soul counsel thy fellows to avenge thy death on our little ones!" when a blackfoot indian has caught eagles in a trap and killed them, he takes them home to a special lodge, called the eagles' lodge, which has been prepared for their reception outside of the camp. here he sets the birds in a row on the ground, and propping up their heads on a stick, puts a piece of dried meat in each of their mouths in order that the spirits of the dead eagles may go and tell the other eagles how well they are being treated by the indians. so when indian hunters of the orinoco region have killed an animal, they open its mouth and pour into it a few drops of the liquor they generally carry with them, in order that the soul of the dead beast may inform its fellows of the welcome it has met with, and that they too, cheered by the prospect of the same kind reception, may come with alacrity to be killed. when a teton indian is on a journey, and he meets a grey spider or a spider with yellow legs, he kills it, because some evil would befall him if he did not. but he is very careful not to let the spider know that he kills it, for if the spider knew, his soul would go and tell the other spiders, and one of them would be sure to avenge the death of his relation. so in crushing the insect, the indian says, "o grandfather spider, the thunder-beings kill you." and the spider is crushed at once and believes what is told him. his soul probably runs and tells the other spiders that the thunder-beings have killed him; but no harm comes of that. for what can grey or yellow-legged spiders do to the thunder-beings? but it is not merely dangerous creatures with whom the savage desires to keep on good terms. it is true that the respect which he pays to wild beasts is in some measure proportioned to their strength and ferocity. thus the savage stiens of cambodia, believing that all animals have souls which roam about after their death, beg an animal's pardon when they kill it, lest its soul should come and torment them. also they offer it sacrifices, but these sacrifices are proportioned to the size and strength of the animal. the ceremonies which they observe at the death of an elephant are conducted with much pomp and last seven days. similar distinctions are drawn by north american indians. "the bear, the buffalo, and the beaver are manidos [divinities] which furnish food. the bear is formidable, and good to eat. they render ceremonies to him, begging him to allow himself to be eaten, although they know he has no fancy for it. we kill you, but you are not annihilated. his head and paws are objects of homage. . . . other animals are treated similarly from similar reasons. . . . many of the animal manidos, not being dangerous, are often treated with contempt--the terrapin, the weasel, polecat, etc." the distinction is instructive. animals which are feared, or are good to eat, or both, are treated with ceremonious respect; those which are neither formidable nor good to eat are despised. we have had examples of reverence paid to animals which are both feared and eaten. it remains to prove that similar respect is shown to animals which, without being feared, are either eaten or valued for their skins. when siberian sable-hunters have caught a sable, no one is allowed to see it, and they think that if good or evil be spoken of the captured sable no more sables will be caught. a hunter has been known to express his belief that the sables could hear what was said of them as far off as moscow. he said that the chief reason why the sable hunt was now so unproductive was that some live sables had been sent to moscow. there they had been viewed with astonishment as strange animals, and the sables cannot abide that. another, though minor, cause of the diminished take of sables was, he alleged, that the world is now much worse than it used to be, so that nowadays a hunter will sometimes hide the sable which he has got instead of putting it into the common stock. this also, said he, the sables cannot abide. alaskan hunters preserve the bones of sables and beavers out of reach of the dogs for a year and then bury them carefully, "lest the spirits who look after the beavers and sables should consider that they are regarded with contempt, and hence no more should be killed or trapped." the canadian indians were equally particular not to let their dogs gnaw the bones, or at least certain of the bones, of beavers. they took the greatest pains to collect and preserve these bones, and, when the beaver had been caught in a net, they threw them into the river. to a jesuit who argued that the beavers could not possibly know what became of their bones, the indians replied, "you know nothing about catching beavers and yet you will be prating about it. before the beaver is stone dead, his soul takes a turn in the hut of the man who is killing him and makes a careful note of what is done with his bones. if the bones are given to the dogs, the other beavers would get word of it and would not let themselves be caught. whereas, if their bones are thrown into the fire or a river, they are quite satisfied; and it is particularly gratifying to the net which caught them." before hunting the beaver they offered a solemn prayer to the great beaver, and presented him with tobacco; and when the chase was over, an orator pronounced a funeral oration over the dead beavers. he praised their spirit and wisdom. "you will hear no more," said he, "the voice of the chieftains who commanded you and whom you chose from among all the warrior beavers to give you laws. your language, which the medicine-men understand perfectly, will be heard no more at the bottom of the lake. you will fight no more battles with the otters, your cruel foes. no, beavers! but your skins shall serve to buy arms; we will carry your smoked hams to our children; we will keep the dogs from eating your bones, which are so hard." the elan, deer, and elk were treated by the american indians with the same punctilious respect, and for the same reason. their bones might not be given to the dogs nor thrown into the fire, nor might their fat be dropped upon the fire, because the souls of the dead animals were believed to see what was done to their bodies and to tell it to the other beasts, living and dead. hence, if their bodies were illused, the animals of that species would not allow themselves to be taken, neither in this world nor in the world to come. among the chiquites of paraguay a sick man would be asked by the medicine-man whether he had not thrown away some of the flesh of the deer or turtle, and if he answered yes, the medicine-man would say, "that is what is killing you. the soul of the deer or turtle has entered into your body to avenge the wrong you did it." the canadian indians would not eat the embryos of the elk, unless at the close of the hunting season; otherwise the mother-elks would be shy and refuse to be caught. in the timor-laut islands of the indian archipelago the skulls of all the turtles which a fisherman has caught are hung up under his house. before he goes out to catch another, he addresses himself to the skull of the last turtle that he killed, and having inserted betel between its jaws, he prays the spirit of the dead animal to entice its kinsfolk in the sea to come and be caught. in the poso district of central celebes hunters keep the jawbones of deer and wild pigs which they have killed and hang them up in their houses near the fire. then they say to the jawbones, "ye cry after your comrades, that your grandfathers, or nephews, or children may not go away." their notion is that the souls of the dead deer and pigs tarry near their jawbones and attract the souls of living deer and pigs, which are thus drawn into the toils of the hunter. thus the wily savage employs dead animals as decoys to lure living animals to their doom. the lengua indians of the gran chaco love to hunt the ostrich, but when they have killed one of these birds and are bringing home the carcase to the village, they take steps to outwit the resentful ghost of their victim. they think that when the first natural shock of death is passed, the ghost of the ostrich pulls himself together and makes after his body. acting on this sage calculation, the indians pluck feathers from the breast of the bird and strew them at intervals along the track. at every bunch of feathers the ghost stops to consider, "is this the whole of my body or only a part of it?" the doubt gives him pause, and when at last he has made up his mind fully at all the bunches, and has further wasted valuable time by the zigzag course which he invariably pursues in going from one to another, the hunters are safe at home, and the bilked ghost may stalk in vain round about the village, which he is too timid to enter. the esquimaux about bering strait believe that the souls of dead sea-beasts, such as seals, walrus, and whales, remain attached to their bladders, and that by returning the bladders to the sea they can cause the souls to be reincarnated in fresh bodies and so multiply the game which the hunters pursue and kill. acting on this belief every hunter carefully removes and preserves the bladders of all the sea-beasts that he kills; and at a solemn festival held once a year in winter these bladders, containing the souls of all the sea-beasts that have been killed throughout the year, are honoured with dances and offerings of food in the public assembly-room, after which they are taken out on the ice and thrust through holes into the water; for the simple esquimaux imagine that the souls of the animals, in high good humour at the kind treatment they have experienced, will thereafter be born again as seals, walrus, and whales, and in that form will flock willingly to be again speared, harpooned, or otherwise done to death by the hunters. for like reasons, a tribe which depends for its subsistence, chiefly or in part, upon fishing is careful to treat the fish with every mark of honour and respect. the indians of peru "adored the fish that they caught in greatest abundance; for they said that the first fish that was made in the world above (for so they named heaven) gave birth to all other fish of that species, and took care to send them plenty of its children to sustain their tribe. for this reason they worshipped sardines in one region, where they killed more of them than of any other fish; in others, the skate; in others, the dogfish; in others, the golden fish for its beauty; in others, the crawfish; in others, for want of larger gods, the crabs, where they had no other fish, or where they knew not how to catch and kill them. in short, they had whatever fish was most serviceable to them as their gods." the kwakiutl indians of british columbia think that when a salmon is killed its soul returns to the salmon country. hence they take care to throw the bones and offal into the sea, in order that the soul may reanimate them at the resurrection of the salmon. whereas if they burned the bones the soul would be lost, and so it would be quite impossible for that salmon to rise from the dead. in like manner the ottawa indians of canada, believing that the souls of dead fish passed into other bodies of fish, never burned fish bones, for fear of displeasing the souls of the fish, who would come no more to the nets. the hurons also refrained from throwing fish bones into the fire, lest the souls of the fish should go and warn the other fish not to let themselves be caught, since the hurons would burn their bones. moreover, they had men who preached to the fish and persuaded them to come and be caught. a good preacher was much sought after, for they thought that the exhortations of a clever man had a great effect in drawing the fish to the nets. in the huron fishing village where the french missionary sagard stayed, the preacher to the fish prided himself very much on his eloquence, which was of a florid order. every evening after supper, having seen that all the people were in their places and that a strict silence was observed, he preached to the fish. his text was that the hurons did not burn fish bones. "then enlarging on this theme with extraordinary unction, he exhorted and conjured and invited and implored the fish to come and be caught and to be of good courage and to fear nothing, for it was all to serve their friends who honoured them and did not burn their bones." the natives of the duke of york island annually decorate a canoe with flowers and ferns, lade it, or are supposed to lade it, with shell-money, and set it adrift to compensate the fish for their fellows who have been caught and eaten. it is especially necessary to treat the first fish caught with consideration in order to conciliate the rest of the fish, whose conduct may be supposed to be influenced by the reception given to those of their kind which were the first to be taken. accordingly the maoris always put back into the sea the first fish caught, "with a prayer that it may tempt other fish to come and be caught." still more stringent are the precautions taken when the fish are the first of the season. on salmon rivers, when the fish begin to run up the stream in spring, they are received with much deference by tribes who, like the indians of the pacific coast of north america, subsist largely upon a fish diet. in british columbia the indians used to go out to meet the first fish as they came up the river: "they paid court to them, and would address them thus: 'you fish, you fish; you are all chiefs, you are; you are all chiefs.'" amongst the tlingit of alaska the first halibut of the season is carefully handled and addressed as a chief, and a festival is given in his honour, after which the fishing goes on. in spring, when the winds blow soft from the south and the salmon begin to run up the klamath river, the karoks of california dance for salmon, to ensure a good catch. one of the indians, called the kareya or god-man, retires to the mountains and fasts for ten days. on his return the people flee, while he goes to the river, takes the first salmon of the catch, eats some of it, and with the rest kindles the sacred fire in the sweating house. "no indian may take a salmon before this dance is held, nor for ten days after it, even if his family are starving." the karoks also believe that a fisherman will take no salmon if the poles of which his spearing-booth is made were gathered on the river-side, where the salmon might have seen them. the poles must be brought from the top of the highest mountain. the fisherman will also labour in vain if he uses the same poles a second year in booths or weirs, "because the old salmon will have told the young ones about them." there is a favourite fish of the aino which appears in their rivers about may and june. they prepare for the fishing by observing rules of ceremonial purity, and when they have gone out to fish, the women at home must keep strict silence or the fish would hear them and disappear. when the first fish is caught he is brought home and passed through a small opening at the end of the hut, but not through the door; for if he were passed through the door, "the other fish would certainly see him and disappear." this may partly explain the custom observed by other savages of bringing game in certain cases into their huts, not by the door, but by the window, the smoke-hole, or by a special opening at the back of the hut. with some savages a special reason for respecting the bones of game, and generally of the animals which they eat, is a belief that, if the bones are preserved, they will in course of time be reclothed with flesh, and thus the animal will come to life again. it is, therefore, clearly for the interest of the hunter to leave the bones intact since to destroy them would be to diminish the future supply of game. many of the minnetaree indians "believe that the bones of those bisons which they have slain and divested of flesh rise again clothed with renewed flesh, and quickened with life, and become fat, and fit for slaughter the succeeding june." hence on the western prairies of america, the skulls of buffaloes may be seen arranged in circles and symmetrical piles, awaiting the resurrection. after feasting on a dog, the dacotas carefully collect the bones, scrape, wash, and bury them, "partly, as it is said, to testify to the dog-species, that in feasting upon one of their number no disrespect was meant to the species itself, and partly also from a belief that the bones of the animal will rise and reproduce another." in sacrificing an animal the lapps regularly put aside the bones, eyes, ears, heart, lungs, sexual parts (if the animal was a male), and a morsel of flesh from each limb. then, after eating the remainder of the flesh, they laid the bones and the rest in anatomical order in a coffin and buried them with the usual rites, believing that the god to whom the animal was sacrificed would reclothe the bones with flesh and restore the animal to life in jabme-aimo, the subterranean world of the dead. sometimes, as after feasting on a bear, they seem to have contented themselves with thus burying the bones. thus the lapps expected the resurrection of the slain animal to take place in another world, resembling in this respect the kamtchatkans, who believed that every creature, down to the smallest fly, would rise from the dead and live underground. on the other hand, the north american indians looked for the resurrection of the animals in the present world. the habit, observed especially by mongolian peoples, of stuffing the skin of a sacrificed animal, or stretching it on a framework, points rather to a belief in a resurrection of the latter sort. the objection commonly entertained by primitive peoples to break the bones of the animals which they have eaten or sacrificed may be based either on a belief in the resurrection of the animals, or on a fear of intimidating other creatures of the same species and offending the ghosts of the slain animals. the reluctance of north american indians and esquimaux to let dogs gnaw the bones of animals is perhaps only a precaution to prevent the bones from being broken. but after all the resurrection of dead game may have its inconveniences, and accordingly some hunters take steps to prevent it by hamstringing the animal so as to prevent it or its ghost from getting up and running away. this is the motive alleged for the practice by koui hunters in laos; they think that the spells which they utter in the chase may lose their magical virtue, and that the slaughtered animal may consequently come to life again and escape. to prevent that catastrophe they therefore hamstring the beast as soon as they have butchered it. when an esquimau of alaska has killed a fox, he carefully cuts the tendons of all the animal's legs in order to prevent the ghost from reanimating the body and walking about. but hamstringing the carcase is not the only measure which the prudent savage adopts for the sake of disabling the ghost of his victim. in old days, when the aino went out hunting and killed a fox first, they took care to tie its mouth up tightly in order to prevent the ghost of the animal from sallying forth and warning its fellows against the approach of the hunter. the gilyaks of the amoor river put out the eyes of the seals they have killed, lest the ghosts of the slain animals should know their slayers and avenge their death by spoiling the seal-hunt. besides the animals which primitive man dreads for their strength and ferocity, and those which he reveres on account of the benefits which he expects from them, there is another class of creatures which he sometimes deems it necessary to conciliate by worship and sacrifice. these are the vermin that infest his crops and his cattle. to rid himself of these deadly foes the farmer has recourse to many superstitious devices, of which, though some are meant to destroy or intimidate the vermin, others aim at propitiating them and persuading them by fair means to spare the fruits of the earth and the herds. thus esthonian peasants, in the island of oesel, stand in great awe of the weevil, an insect which is exceedingly destructive to the grain. they give it a fine name, and if a child is about to kill a weevil they say, "don't do it; the more we hurt him, the more he hurts us." if they find a weevil they bury it in the earth instead of killing it. some even put the weevil under a stone in the field and offer corn to it. they think that thus it is appeased and does less harm. amongst the saxons of transylvania, in order to keep sparrows from the corn, the sower begins by throwing the first handful of seed backwards over his head, saying, "that is for you, sparrows." to guard the corn against the attacks of leaf-flies he shuts his eyes and scatters three handfuls of oats in different directions. having made this offering to the leaf-flies he feels sure that they will spare the corn. a transylvanian way of securing the crops against all birds, beasts, and insects, is this: after he has finished sowing, the sower goes once more from end to end of the field imitating the gesture of sowing, but with an empty hand. as he does so he says, "i sow this for the animals; i sow it for every thing that flies and creeps, that walks and stands, that sings and springs, in the name of god the father, etc." the following is a german way of freeing a garden from caterpillars. after sunset or at midnight the mistress of the house, or another female member of the family, walks all round the garden dragging a broom after her. she may not look behind her, and must keep murmuring, "good evening, mother caterpillar, you shall come with your husband to church." the garden gate is left open till the following morning. sometimes in dealing with vermin the farmer aims at hitting a happy mean between excessive rigour on the one hand and weak indulgence on the other; kind but firm, he tempers severity with mercy. an ancient greek treatise on farming advises the husbandman who would rid his lands of mice to act thus: "take a sheet of paper and write on it as follows: 'i adjure you, ye mice here present, that ye neither injure me nor suffer another mouse to do so. i give you yonder field' (here you specify the field); 'but if ever i catch you here again, by the mother of the gods i will rend you in seven pieces.' write this, and stick the paper on an unhewn stone in the field before sunrise, taking care to keep the written side up." in the ardennes they say that to get rid of rats you should repeat the following words: "_erat verbum, apud deum vestrum._ male rats and female rats, i conjure you, by the great god, to go out of my house, out of all my habitations, and to betake yourselves to such and such a place, there to end your days. _decretis, reversis et desembarassis virgo potens, clemens, justitiae._" then write the same words on pieces of paper, fold them up, and place one of them under the door by which the rats are to go forth, and the other on the road which they are to take. this exorcism should be performed at sunrise. some years ago an american farmer was reported to have written a civil letter to the rats, telling them that his crops were short, that he could not afford to keep them through the winter, that he had been very kind to them, and that for their own good he thought they had better leave him and go to some of his neighbours who had more grain. this document he pinned to a post in his barn for the rats to read. sometimes the desired object is supposed to be attained by treating with high distinction one or two chosen individuals of the obnoxious species, while the rest are pursued with relentless rigour. in the east indian island of bali, the mice which ravage the rice-fields are caught in great numbers, and burned in the same way that corpses are burned. but two of the captured mice are allowed to live, and receive a little packet of white linen. then the people bow down before them, as before gods, and let them go. when the farms of the sea dyaks or ibans of sarawak are much pestered by birds and insects, they catch a specimen of each kind of vermin (one sparrow, one grasshopper, and so on), put them in a tiny boat of bark well-stocked with provisions, and then allow the little vessel with its obnoxious passengers to float down the river. if that does not drive the pests away, the dyaks resort to what they deem a more effectual mode of accomplishing the same purpose. they make a clay crocodile as large as life and set it up in the fields, where they offer it food, rice-spirit, and cloth, and sacrifice a fowl and a pig before it. mollified by these attentions, the ferocious animal very soon gobbles up all the creatures that devour the crops. in albania, if the fields or vineyards are ravaged by locusts or beetles, some of the women will assemble with dishevelled hair, catch a few of the insects, and march with them in a funeral procession to a spring or stream, in which they drown the creatures. then one of the women sings, "o locusts and beetles who have left us bereaved," and the dirge is taken up and repeated by all the women in chorus. thus by celebrating the obsequies of a few locusts and beetles, they hope to bring about the death of them all. when caterpillars invaded a vineyard or field in syria, the virgins were gathered, and one of the caterpillars was taken and a girl made its mother. then they bewailed and buried it. thereafter they conducted the "mother" to the place where the caterpillars were, consoling her, in order that all the caterpillars might leave the garden. liv. types of animal sacrament . the egyptian and the aino types of sacrament we are now perhaps in a position to understand the ambiguous behaviour of the aino and gilyaks towards the bear. it has been shown that the sharp line of demarcation which we draw between mankind and the lower animals does not exist for the savage. to him many of the other animals appear as his equals or even his superiors, not merely in brute force but in intelligence; and if choice or necessity leads him to take their lives, he feels bound, out of regard to his own safety, to do it in a way which will be as inoffensive as possible not merely to the living animal, but to its departed spirit and to all the other animals of the same species, which would resent an affront put upon one of their kind much as a tribe of savages would revenge an injury or insult offered to a tribesman. we have seen that among the many devices by which the savage seeks to atone for the wrong done by him to his animal victims one is to show marked deference to a few chosen individuals of the species, for such behaviour is apparently regarded as entitling him to exterminate with impunity all the rest of the species upon which he can lay hands. this principle perhaps explains the attitude, at first sight puzzling and contradictory, of the aino towards the bear. the flesh and skin of the bear regularly afford them food and clothing; but since the bear is an intelligent and powerful animal, it is necessary to offer some satisfaction or atonement to the bear species for the loss which it sustains in the death of so many of its members. this satisfaction or atonement is made by rearing young bears, treating them, so long as they live, with respect, and killing them with extraordinary marks of sorrow and devotion. so the other bears are appeased, and do not resent the slaughter of their kind by attacking the slayers or deserting the country, which would deprive the aino of one of their means of subsistence. thus the primitive worship of animals conforms to two types, which are in some respects the converse of each other. on the one hand, animals are worshipped, and are therefore neither killed nor eaten. on the other hand, animals are worshipped because they are habitually killed and eaten. in both types of worship the animal is revered on account of some benefit, positive or negative, which the savage hopes to receive from it. in the former worship the benefit comes either in the positive shape of protection, advice, and help which the animal affords the man, or in the negative shape of abstinence from injuries which it is in the power of the animal to inflict. in the latter worship the benefit takes the material form of the animal's flesh and skin. the two types of worship are in some measure antithetical: in the one, the animal is not eaten because it is revered; in the other, it is revered because it is eaten. but both may be practised by the same people, as we see in the case of the north american indians, who, while they apparently revere and spare their totem animals, also revere the animals and fish upon which they subsist. the aborigines of australia have totemism in the most primitive form known to us; but there is no clear evidence that they attempt, like the north american indians, to conciliate the animals which they kill and eat. the means which the australians adopt to secure a plentiful supply of game appear to be primarily based, not on conciliation, but on sympathetic magic, a principle to which the north american indians also resort for the same purpose. hence, as the australians undoubtedly represent a ruder and earlier stage of human progress than the american indians, it would seem that before hunters think of worshipping the game as a means of ensuring an abundant supply of it, they seek to attain the same end by sympathetic magic. this, again, would show--what there is good reason for believing--that sympathetic magic is one of the earliest means by which man endeavours to adapt the agencies of nature to his needs. corresponding to the two distinct types of animal worship, there are two distinct types of the custom of killing the animal god. on the one hand, when the revered animal is habitually spared, it is nevertheless killed--and sometimes eaten--on rare and solemn occasions. examples of this custom have been already given and an explanation of them offered. on the other hand, when the revered animal is habitually killed, the slaughter of any one of the species involves the killing of the god, and is atoned for on the spot by apologies and sacrifices, especially when the animal is a powerful and dangerous one; and, in addition to this ordinary and everyday atonement, there is a special annual atonement, at which a select individual of the species is slain with extraordinary marks of respect and devotion. clearly the two types of sacramental killing--the egyptian and the aino types, as we may call them for distinction--are liable to be confounded by an observer; and, before we can say to which type any particular example belongs, it is necessary to ascertain whether the animal sacramentally slain belongs to a species which is habitually spared, or to one which is habitually killed by the tribe. in the former case the example belongs to the egyptian type of sacrament, in the latter to the aino type. the practice of pastoral tribes appears to furnish examples of both types of sacrament. "pastoral tribes," says adolf bastian, "being sometimes obliged to sell their herds to strangers who may handle the bones disrespectfully, seek to avert the danger which such a sacrilege would entail by consecrating one of the herd as an object of worship, eating it sacramentally in the family circle with closed doors, and afterwards treating the bones with all the ceremonious respect which, strictly speaking, should be accorded to every head of cattle, but which, being punctually paid to the representative animal, is deemed to be paid to all. such family meals are found among various peoples, especially those of the caucasus. when amongst the abchases the shepherds in spring eat their common meal with their loins girt and their staves in their hands, this may be looked upon both as a sacrament and as an oath of mutual help and support. for the strongest of all oaths is that which is accompanied with the eating of a sacred substance, since the perjured person cannot possibly escape the avenging god whom he has taken into his body and assimilated." this kind of sacrament is of the aino or expiatory type, since it is meant to atone to the species for the possible ill-usage of individuals. an expiation, similar in principle but different in details, is offered by the kalmucks to the sheep, whose flesh is one of their staple foods. rich kalmucks are in the habit of consecrating a white ram under the title of "the ram of heaven" or "the ram of the spirit." the animal is never shorn and never sold; but when it grows old and its owner wishes to consecrate a new one, the old ram must be killed and eaten at a feast to which the neighbours are invited. on a lucky day, generally in autumn when the sheep are fat, a sorcerer kills the old ram, after sprinkling it with milk. its flesh is eaten; the skeleton, with a portion of the fat, is burned on a turf altar; and the skin, with the head and feet, is hung up. an example of a sacrament of the egyptian type is furnished by the todas, a pastoral people of southern india, who subsist largely upon the milk of their buffaloes. amongst them "the buffalo is to a certain degree held sacred" and "is treated with great kindness, even with a degree of adoration, by the people." they never eat the flesh of the cow buffalo, and as a rule abstain from the flesh of the male. but to the latter rule there is a single exception. once a year all the adult males of the village join in the ceremony of killing and eating a very young male calf--seemingly under a month old. they take the animal into the dark recesses of the village wood, where it is killed with a club made from the sacred tree of the todas (the _millingtonia_). a sacred fire having been made by the rubbing of sticks, the flesh of the calf is roasted on the embers of certain trees, and is eaten by the men alone, women being excluded from the assembly. this is the only occasion on which the todas eat buffalo flesh. the madi or moru tribe of central africa, whose chief wealth is their cattle, though they also practise agriculture, appear to kill a lamb sacramentally on certain solemn occasions. the custom is thus described by dr. felkin: "a remarkable custom is observed at stated times--once a year, i am led to believe. i have not been able to ascertain what exact meaning is attached to it. it appears, however, to relieve the people's minds, for beforehand they evince much sadness, and seem very joyful when the ceremony is duly accomplished. the following is what takes place: a large concourse of people of all ages assemble, and sit down round a circle of stones, which is erected by the side of a road (really a narrow path). a very choice lamb is then fetched by a boy, who leads it four times round the assembled people. as it passes they pluck off little bits of its fleece and place them in their hair, or on to some other part of their body. the lamb is then led up to the stones, and there killed by a man belonging to a kind of priestly order, who takes some of the blood and sprinkles it four times over the people. he then applies it individually. on the children he makes a small ring of blood over the lower end of the breast bone, on women and girls he makes a mark above the breasts, and the men he touches on each shoulder. he then proceeds to explain the ceremony, and to exhort the people to show kindness. . . . when this discourse, which is at times of great length, is over, the people rise, each places a leaf on or by the circle of stones, and then they depart with signs of great joy. the lamb's skull is hung on a tree near the stones, and its flesh is eaten by the poor. this ceremony is observed on a small scale at other times. if a family is in any great trouble, through illness or bereavement, their friends and neighbours come together and a lamb is killed; this is thought to avert further evil. the same custom prevails at the grave of departed friends, and also on joyful occasions, such as the return of a son home after a very prolonged absence." the sorrow thus manifested by the people at the annual slaughter of the lamb seems to show that the lamb slain is a sacred or divine animal, whose death is mourned by his worshippers, just as the death of the sacred buzzard was mourned by the californians and the death of the theban ram by the egyptians. the smearing each of the worshippers with the blood of the lamb is a form of communion with the divinity; the vehicle of the divine life is applied externally instead of being taken internally, as when the blood is drunk or the flesh eaten. . processions with sacred animals the form of communion in which the sacred animal is taken from house to house, that all may enjoy a share of its divine influence, has been exemplified by the gilyak custom of promenading the bear through the village before it is slain. a similar form of communion with the sacred snake is observed by a snake tribe in the punjaub. once a year in the month of september the snake is worshipped by all castes and religions for nine days only. at the end of august the mirasans, especially those of the snake tribe, make a snake of dough which they paint black and red, and place on a winnowing basket. this basket they carry round the village, and on entering any house they say: "god be with you all! may every ill be far! may our patron's (gugga's) word thrive!" then they present the basket with the snake, saying: "a small cake of flour: a little bit of butter: if you obey the snake, you and yours shall thrive!" strictly speaking, a cake and butter should be given, but it is seldom done. every one, however, gives something, generally a handful of dough or some corn. in houses where there is a new bride or whence a bride has gone, or where a son has been born, it is usual to give a rupee and a quarter, or some cloth. sometimes the bearers of the snake also sing: "give the snake a piece of cloth, and he will send a lively bride!" when every house has been thus visited, the dough snake is buried and a small grave is erected over it. thither during the nine days of september the women come to worship. they bring a basin of curds, a small portion of which they offer at the snake's grave, kneeling on the ground and touching the earth with their foreheads. then they go home and divide the rest of the curds among the children. here the dough snake is clearly a substitute for a real snake. indeed, in districts where snakes abound the worship is offered, not at the grave of the dough snake, but in the jungles where snakes are known to be. besides this yearly worship, performed by all the people, the members of the snake tribe worship in the same way every morning after a new moon. the snake tribe is not uncommon in the punjaub. members of it will not kill a snake, and they say that its bite does not hurt them. if they find a dead snake, they put clothes on it and give it a regular funeral. ceremonies closely analogous to this indian worship of the snake have survived in europe into recent times, and doubtless date from a very primitive paganism. the best-known example is the "hunting of the wren." by many european peoples--the ancient greeks and romans, the modern italians, spaniards, french, germans, dutch, danes, swedes, english, and welsh--the wren has been designated the king, the little king, the king of birds, the hedge king, and so forth, and has been reckoned amongst those birds which it is extremely unlucky to kill. in england it is supposed that if any one kills a wren or harries its nest, he will infallibly break a bone or meet with some dreadful misfortune within the year; sometimes it is thought that the cows will give bloody milk. in scotland the wren is called "the lady of heaven's hen," and boys say: "malisons, malisons, mair than ten, that harry the ladye of heaven's hen!" at saint donan, in brittany, people believe that if children touch the young wrens in the nest, they will suffer from the fire of st. lawrence, that is, from pimples on the face, legs, and so on. in other parts of france it is thought that if a person kills a wren or harries its nest, his house will be struck by lightning, or that the fingers with which he did the deed will shrivel up and drop off, or at least be maimed, or that his cattle will suffer in their feet. notwithstanding such beliefs, the custom of annually killing the wren has prevailed widely both in this country and in france. in the isle of man down to the eighteenth century the custom was observed on christmas eve, or rather christmas morning. on the twenty-fourth of december, towards evening, all the servants got a holiday; they did not go to bed all night, but rambled about till the bells rang in all the churches at midnight. when prayers were over, they went to hunt the wren, and having found one of these birds they killed it and fastened it to the top of a long pole with its wings extended. thus they carried it in procession to every house chanting the following rhyme: "we hunted the wren for robin the bobbin, we hunted the wren for jack of the can, we hunted the wren for robin the bobbin, we hunted the wren for every one." when they had gone from house to house and collected all the money they could, they laid the wren on a bier and carried it in procession to the parish churchyard, where they made a grave and buried it "with the utmost solemnity, singing dirges over her in the manks language, which they call her knell; after which christmas begins." the burial over, the company outside the churchyard formed a circle and danced to music. a writer of the eighteenth century says that in ireland the wren "is still hunted and killed by the peasants on christmas day, and on the following (st. stephen's day) he is carried about, hung by the leg, in the centre of two hoops, crossing each other at right angles, and a procession made in every village, of men, women, and children, singing an irish catch, importing him to be the king of all birds." down to the present time the "hunting of the wren" still takes place in parts of leinster and connaught. on christmas day or st. stephen's day the boys hunt and kill the wren, fasten it in the middle of a mass of holly and ivy on the top of a broomstick, and on st. stephen's day go about with it from house to house, singing: "the wren, the wren, the king of all birds, st. stephen's day was caught in the furze; although he is little, his family's great, i pray you, good landlady, give us a treat." money or food (bread, butter, eggs, etc.) were given them, upon which they feasted in the evening. in the first half of the nineteenth century similar customs were still observed in various parts of the south of france. thus at carcassone, every year on the first sunday of december the young people of the street saint jean used to go out of the town armed with sticks, with which they beat the bushes, looking for wrens. the first to strike down one of these birds was proclaimed king. then they returned to the town in procession, headed by the king, who carried the wren on a pole. on the evening of the last day of the year the king and all who had hunted the wren marched through the streets of the town to the light of torches, with drums beating and fifes playing in front of them. at the door of every house they stopped, and one of them wrote with chalk on the door _vive le roi!_ with the number of the year which was about to begin. on the morning of twelfth day the king again marched in procession with great pomp, wearing a crown and a blue mantle and carrying a sceptre. in front of him was borne the wren fastened to the top of a pole, which was adorned with a verdant wreath of olive, of oak, and sometimes of mistletoe grown on an oak. after hearing high mass in the parish church of st. vincent, surrounded by his officers and guards, the king visited the bishop, the mayor, the magistrates, and the chief inhabitants, collecting money to defray the expenses of the royal banquet which took place in the evening and wound up with a dance. the parallelism between this custom of "hunting the wren" and some of those which we have considered, especially the gilyak procession with the bear, and the indian one with the snake, seems too close to allow us to doubt that they all belong to the same circle of ideas. the worshipful animal is killed with special solemnity once a year; and before or immediately after death he is promenaded from door to door, that each of his worshippers may receive a portion of the divine virtues that are supposed to emanate from the dead or dying god. religious processions of this sort must have had a great place in the ritual of european peoples in prehistoric times, if we may judge from the numerous traces of them which have survived in folk-custom. for example, on the last day of the year, or hogmanay as it was called, it used to be customary in the highlands of scotland for a man to dress himself up in a cow's hide and thus attired to go from house to house, attended by young fellows, each of them armed with a staff, to which a bit of raw hide was tied. round every house the hide-clad man used to run thrice _deiseal,_ that is, according to the course of the sun, so as to keep the house on his right hand; while the others pursued him, beating the hide with their staves and thereby making a loud noise like the beating of a drum. in this disorderly procession they also struck the walls of the house. on being admitted, one of the party, standing within the threshold, pronounced a blessing on the family in these words: "may god bless the house and all that belongs to it, cattle, stones, and timber! in plenty of meat, of bed and body clothes, and health of men may it ever abound!" then each of the party singed in the fire a little bit of the hide which was tied to his staff; and having done so he applied the singed hide to the nose of every person and of every domestic animal belonging to the house. this was imagined to secure them from diseases and other misfortunes, particularly from witchcraft, throughout the ensuing year. the whole ceremony was called _calluinn_ because of the great noise made in beating the hide. it was observed in the hebrides, including st. kilda, down to the second half of the eighteenth century at least, and it seems to have survived well into the nineteenth century. lv. the transference of evil . the transference to inanimate objects we have now traced the practice of killing a god among peoples in the hunting, pastoral, and agricultural stages of society; and i have attempted to explain the motives which led men to adopt so curious a custom. one aspect of the custom still remains to be noticed. the accumulated misfortunes and sins of the whole people are sometimes laid upon the dying god, who is supposed to bear them away for ever, leaving the people innocent and happy. the notion that we can transfer our guilt and sufferings to some other being who will bear them for us is familiar to the savage mind. it arises from a very obvious confusion between the physical and the mental, between the material and the immaterial. because it is possible to shift a load of wood, stones, or what not, from our own back to the back of another, the savage fancies that it is equally possible to shift the burden of his pains and sorrows to another, who will suffer them in his stead. upon this idea he acts, and the result is an endless number of very unamiable devices for palming off upon some one else the trouble which a man shrinks from bearing himself. in short, the principle of vicarious suffering is commonly understood and practised by races who stand on a low level of social and intellectual culture. in the following pages i shall illustrate the theory and the practice as they are found among savages in all their naked simplicity, undisguised by the refinements of metaphysics and the subtleties of theology. the devices to which the cunning and selfish savage resorts for the sake of easing himself at the expense of his neighbour are manifold; only a few typical examples out of a multitude can be cited. at the outset it is to be observed that the evil of which a man seeks to rid himself need not be transferred to a person; it may equally well be transferred to an animal or a thing, though in the last case the thing is often only a vehicle to convey the trouble to the first person who touches it. in some of the east indian islands they think that epilepsy can be cured by striking the patient on the face with the leaves of certain trees and then throwing them away. the disease is believed to have passed into the leaves, and to have been thrown away with them. to cure toothache some of the australian blacks apply a heated spear-thrower to the cheek. the spear-thrower is then cast away, and the toothache goes with it in the shape of a black stone called _karriitch._ stones of this kind are found in old mounds and sandhills. they are carefully collected and thrown in the direction of enemies in order to give them toothache. the bahima, a pastoral people of uganda, often suffer from deep-seated abscesses: "their cure for this is to transfer the disease to some other person by obtaining herbs from the medicine-man, rubbing them over the place where the swelling is, and burying them in the road where people continually pass; the first person who steps over these buried herbs contracts the disease, and the original patient recovers." sometimes in case of sickness the malady is transferred to an effigy as a preliminary to passing it on to a human being. thus among the baganda the medicine-man would sometimes make a model of his patient in clay; then a relative of the sick man would rub the image over the sufferer's body and either bury it in the road \??\ it in the grass by the wayside. the first person who stepped over the image or passed by it would catch the disease. sometimes the effigy was made out of a plantain-flower tied up so as to look like a person; it was used in the same way as the clay figure. but the use of images for this maleficent purpose was a capital crime; any person caught in the act of burying one of them in the public road would surely have been put to death. in the western district of the island of timor, when men or women are making long and tiring journeys, they fan themselves with leafy branches, which they afterwards throw away on particular spots where their forefathers did the same before them. the fatigue which they felt is thus supposed to have passed into the leaves and to be left behind. others use stones instead of leaves. similarly in the babar archipelago tired people will strike themselves with stones, believing that they thus transfer to the stones the weariness which they felt in their own bodies. they then throw away the stones in places which are specially set apart for the purpose. a like belief and practice in many distant parts of the world have given rise to those cairns or heaps of sticks and leaves which travellers often observe beside the path, and to which every passing native adds his contribution in the shape of a stone, or stick, or leaf. thus in the solomon and banks' islands the natives are wont to throw sticks, stones, or leaves upon a heap at a place of steep descent, or where a difficult path begins, saying, "there goes my fatigue." the act is not a religious rite, for the thing thrown on the heap is not an offering to spiritual powers, and the words which accompany the act are not a prayer. it is nothing but a magical ceremony for getting rid of fatigue, which the simple savage fancies he can embody in a stick, leaf, or stone, and so cast it from him. . the transference to animals animals are often employed as a vehicle for carrying away or transferring the evil. when a moor has a headache he will sometimes take a lamb or a goat and beat it till it falls down, believing that the headache will thus be transferred to the animal. in morocco most wealthy moors keep a wild boar in their stables, in order that the jinn and evil spirits may be diverted from the horses and enter into the boar. amongst the caffres of south africa, when other remedies have failed, "natives sometimes adopt the custom of taking a goat into the presence of a sick man, and confess the sins of the kraal over the animal. sometimes a few drops of blood from the sick man are allowed to fall on the head of the goat, which is turned out into an uninhabited part of the veldt. the sickness is supposed to be transferred to the animal, and to become lost in the desert." in arabia, when the plague is raging, the people will sometimes lead a camel through all the quarters of the town in order that the animal may take the pestilence on itself. then they strangle it in a sacred place and imagine that they have rid themselves of the camel and of the plague at one blow. it is said that when smallpox is raging the savages of formosa will drive the demon of disease into a sow, then cut off the animal's ears and burn them or it, believing that in this way they rid themselves of the plague. amongst the malagasy the vehicle for carrying away evils is called a _faditra._ "the faditra is anything selected by the sikidy [divining board] for the purpose of taking away any hurtful evils or diseases that might prove injurious to an individual's happiness, peace, or prosperity. the faditra may be either ashes, cut money, a sheep, a pumpkin, or anything else the sikidy may choose to direct. after the particular article is appointed, the priest counts upon it all the evils that may prove injurious to the person for whom it is made, and which he then charges the faditra to take away for ever. if the faditra be ashes, it is blown, to be carried away by the wind. if it be cut money, it is thrown to the bottom of deep water, or where it can never be found. if it be a sheep, it is carried away to a distance on the shoulders of a man, who runs with all his might, mumbling as he goes, as if in the greatest rage against the faditra, for the evils it is bearing away. if it be a pumpkin, it is carried on the shoulders to a little distance, and there dashed upon the ground with every appearance of fury and indignation." a malagasy was informed by a diviner that he was doomed to a bloody death, but that possibly he might avert his fate by performing a certain rite. carrying a small vessel full of blood upon his head, he was to mount upon the back of a bullock; while thus mounted, he was to spill the blood upon the bullock's head, and then send the animal away into the wilderness, whence it might never return. the bataks of sumatra have a ceremony which they call "making the curse to fly away." when a woman is childless, a sacrifice is offered to the gods of three grasshoppers, representing a head of cattle, a buffalo, and a horse. then a swallow is set free, with a prayer that the curse may fall upon the bird and fly away with it. "the entrance into a house of an animal which does not generally seek to share the abode of man is regarded by the malays as ominous of misfortune. if a wild bird flies into a house, it must be carefully caught and smeared with oil, and must then be released in the open air, a formula being recited in which it is bidden to fly away with all the ill-luck and misfortunes of the occupier." in antiquity greek women seem to have done the same with swallows which they caught in the house: they poured oil on them and let them fly away, apparently for the purpose of removing ill-luck from the household. the huzuls of the carpathians imagine that they can transfer freckles to the first swallow they see in spring by washing their face in flowing water and saying, "swallow, swallow, take my freckles, and give me rosy cheeks." among the badagas of the neilgherry hills in southern india, when a death has taken place, the sins of the deceased are laid upon a buffalo calf. for this purpose the people gather round the corpse and carry it outside of the village. there an elder of the tribe, standing at the head of the corpse, recites or chants a long list of sins such as any badaga may commit, and the people repeat the last word of each line after him. the confession of sins is thrice repeated. "by a conventional mode of expression, the sum total of sins a man may do is said to be thirteen hundred. admitting that the deceased has committed them all, the performer cries aloud, 'stay not their flight to god's pure feet.' as he closes, the whole assembly chants aloud 'stay not their flight.' again the performer enters into details, and cries, 'he killed the crawling snake. it is a sin.' in a moment the last word is caught up, and all the people cry 'it is a sin.' as they shout, the performer lays his hand upon the calf. the sin is transferred to the calf. thus the whole catalogue is gone through in this impressive way. but this is not enough. as the last shout 'let all be well' dies away, the performer gives place to another, and again confession is made, and all the people shout 'it is a sin.' a third time it is done. then, still in solemn silence, the calf is let loose. like the jewish scapegoat, it may never be used for secular work." at a badaga funeral witnessed by the rev. a. c. clayton the buffalo calf was led thrice round the bier, and the dead man's hand was laid on its head. "by this act, the calf was supposed to receive all the sins of the deceased. it was then driven away to a great distance, that it might contaminate no one, and it was said that it would never be sold, but looked on as a dedicated sacred animal." the idea of this ceremony is, that the sins of the deceased enter the calf, or that the task of his absolution is laid on it. they say that the calf very soon disappears, and that it is never heard of." . the transference to men again, men sometimes play the part of scapegoat by diverting to themselves the evils that threaten others. when a cingalese is dangerously ill, and the physicians can do nothing, a devil-dancer is called in, who by making offerings to the devils, and dancing in the masks appropriate to them, conjures these demons of disease, one after the other, out of the sick man's body and into his own. having thus successfully extracted the cause of the malady, the artful dancer lies down on a bier, and shamming death is carried to an open place outside the village. here, being left to himself, he soon comes to life again, and hastens back to claim his reward. in a scotch which of the name of agnes sampson was convicted of curing a certain robert kers of a disease "laid upon him by a westland warlock when he was at dumfries, whilk sickness she took upon herself, and kept the same with great groaning and torment till the morn, at whilk time there was a great din heard in the house." the noise was made by the witch in her efforts to shift the disease, by means of clothes, from herself to a cat or dog. unfortunately the attempt partly miscarried. the disease missed the animal and hit alexander douglas of dalkeith, who dwined and died of it, while the original patient, robert kers, was made whole. "in one part of new zealand an expiation for sin was felt to be necessary; a service was performed over an individual, by which all the sins of the tribe were supposed to be transferred to him, a fern stalk was previously tied to his person, with which he jumped into the river, and there unbinding, allowed it to float away to the sea, bearing their sins with it." in great emergencies the sins of the rajah of manipur used to be transferred to somebody else, usually to a criminal, who earned his pardon by his vicarious sufferings. to effect the transference the rajah and his wife, clad in fine robes, bathed on a scaffold erected in the bazaar, while the criminal crouched beneath it. with the water which dripped from them on him their sins also were washed away and fell on the human scapegoat. to complete the transference the rajah and his wife made over their fine robes to their substitute, while they themselves, clad in new raiment, mixed with the people till evening. in travancore, when a rajah is near his end, they seek out a holy brahman, who consents to take upon himself the sins of the dying man in consideration of the sum of ten thousand rupees. thus prepared to immolate himself on the altar of duty, the saint is introduced into the chamber of death, and closely embraces the dying rajah, saying to him, "o king, i undertake to bear all your sins and diseases. may your highness live long and reign happily." having thus taken to himself the sins of the sufferer, he is sent away from the country and never more allowed to return. at utch kurgan in turkestan mr. schuyler saw an old man who was said to get his living by taking on himself the sins of the dead, and thenceforth devoting his life to prayer for their souls. in uganda, when an army had returned from war, and the gods warned the king by their oracles that some evil had attached itself to the soldiers, it was customary to pick out a woman slave from the captives, together with a cow, a goat, a fowl, and a dog from the booty, and to send them back under a strong guard to the borders of the country from which they had come. there their limbs were broken and they were left to die; for they were too crippled to crawl back to uganda. in order to ensure the transference of the evil to these substitutes, bunches of grass were rubbed over the people and cattle and then tied to the victims. after that the army was pronounced clean and was allowed to return to the capital. so on his accession a new king of uganda used to wound a man and send him away as a scapegoat to bunyoro to carry away any uncleanliness that might attach to the king or queen. . the transference of evil in europe the examples of the transference of evil hitherto adduced have been mostly drawn from the customs of savage or barbarous peoples. but similar attempts to shift the burden of disease, misfortune, and sin from one's self to another person, or to an animal or thing, have been common also among the civilised nations of europe, both in ancient and modern times. a roman cure for fever was to pare the patient's nails, and stick the parings with wax on a neighbour's door before sunrise; the fever then passed from the sick man to his neighbour. similar devices must have been resorted to by the greeks; for in laying down laws for his ideal state, plato thinks it too much to expect that men should not be alarmed at finding certain wax figures adhering to their doors or to the tombstones of their parents, or lying at cross-roads. in the fourth century of our era marcellus of bordeaux prescribed a cure for warts, which has still a great vogue among the superstitious in various parts of europe. you are to touch your warts with as many little stones as you have warts; then wrap the stones in an ivy leaf, and throw them away in a thoroughfare. whoever picks them up will get the warts, and you will be rid of them. people in the orkney islands will sometimes wash a sick man, and then throw the water down at a gateway, in the belief that the sickness will leave the patient and be transferred to the first person who passes through the gate. a bavarian cure for fever is to write upon a piece of paper, "fever, stay away, i am not at home," and to put the paper in somebody's pocket. the latter then catches the fever, and the patient is rid of it. a bohemian prescription for the same malady is this. take an empty pot, go with it to a cross-road, throw it down, and run away. the first person who kicks against the pot will catch your fever, and you will be cured. often in europe, as among savages, an attempt is made to transfer a pain or malady from a man to an animal. grave writers of antiquity recommended that, if a man be stung by a scorpion, he should sit upon an ass with his face to the tail, or whisper in the animal's ear, "a scorpion has stung me"; in either case, they thought, the pain would be transferred from the man to the ass. many cures of this sort are recorded by marcellus. for example, he tells us that the following is a remedy for toothache. standing booted under the open sky on the ground, you catch a frog by the head, spit into its mouth, ask it to carry away the ache, and then let it go. but the ceremony must be performed on a lucky day and at a lucky hour. in cheshire the ailment known as aphtha or thrush, which affects the mouth or throat of infants, is not uncommonly treated in much the same manner. a young frog is held for a few moments with its head inside the mouth of the sufferer, whom it is supposed to relieve by taking the malady to itself. "i assure you," said an old woman who had often superintended such a cure, "we used to hear the poor frog whooping and coughing, mortal bad, for days after; it would have made your heart ache to hear the poor creature coughing as it did about the garden." a northamptonshire, devonshire, and welsh cure for a cough is to put a hair of the patient's head between two slices of buttered bread and give the sandwich to a dog. the animal will thereupon catch the cough and the patient will lose it. sometimes an ailment is transferred to an animal by sharing food with it. thus in oldenburg, if you are sick of a fever you set a bowl of sweet milk before a dog and say, "good luck, you hound! may you be sick and i be sound!" then when the dog has lapped some of the milk, you take a swig at the bowl; and then the dog must lap again, and then you must swig again; and when you and the dog have done it the third time, he will have the fever and you will be quit of it. a bohemian cure for fever is to go out into the forest before the sun is up and look for a snipe's nest. when you have found it, take out one of the young birds and keep it beside you for three days. then go back into the wood and set the snipe free. the fever will leave you at once. the snipe has taken it away. so in vedic times the hindoos of old sent consumption away with a blue jay. they said, "o consumption, fly away, fly away with the blue jay! with the wild rush of the storm and the whirlwind, oh, vanish away!" in the village of llandegla in wales there is a church dedicated to the virgin martyr st. tecla, where the falling sickness is, or used to be, cured by being transferred to a fowl. the patient first washed his limbs in a sacred well hard by, dropped fourpence into it as an offering, walked thrice round the well, and thrice repeated the lord's prayer. then the fowl, which was a cock or a hen according as the patient was a man or a woman, was put into a basket and carried round first the well and afterwards the church. next the sufferer entered the church and lay down under the communion table till break of day. after that he offered sixpence and departed, leaving the fowl in the church. if the bird died, the sickness was supposed to have been transferred to it from the man or woman, who was now rid of the disorder. as late as the old parish clerk of the village remembered quite well to have seen the birds staggering about from the effects of the fits which had been transferred to them. often the sufferer seeks to shift his burden of sickness or ill-luck to some inanimate object. in athens there is a little chapel of st. john the baptist built against an ancient column. fever patients resort thither, and by attaching a waxed thread to the inner side of the column believe that they transfer the fever from themselves to the pillar. in the mark of brandenburg they say that if you suffer from giddiness you should strip yourself naked and run thrice round a flax-field after sunset; in that way the flax will get the giddiness and you will be rid of it. but perhaps the thing most commonly employed in europe as a receptacle for sickness and trouble of all sorts is a tree or bush. a bulgarian cure for fever is to run thrice around a willow-tree at sunrise, crying, "the fever shall shake thee, and the sun shall warm me." in the greek island of karpathos the priest ties a red thread round the neck of a sick person. next morning the friends of the patient remove the thread and go out to the hillside, where they tie the thread to a tree, thinking that they thus transfer the sickness to the tree. italians attempt to cure fever in like manner by tethering it to a tree the sufferer ties a thread round his left wrist at night, and hangs the thread on a tree next morning. the fever is thus believed to be tied up to the tree, and the patient to be rid of it; but he must be careful not to pass by that tree again, otherwise the fever would break loose from its bonds and attack him afresh. a flemish cure for the ague is to go early in the morning to an old willow, tie three knots in one of its branches, say, "good-morrow, old one, i give thee the cold; good-morrow, old one," then turn and run away without looking round. in sonnenberg, if you would rid yourself of gout you should go to a young fir-tree and tie a knot in one of its twigs, saying, "god greet thee, noble fir. i bring thee my gout. here will i tie a knot and bind my gout into it. in the name," etc. another way of transferring gout from a man to a tree is this. pare the nails of the sufferer's fingers and clip some hairs from his legs. bore a hole in an oak, stuff the nails and hair in the hole, stop up the hole again, and smear it with cow's dung. if, for three months thereafter, the patient is free of gout, you may be sure the oak has it in his stead. in cheshire if you would be rid of warts, you have only to rub them with a piece of bacon, cut a slit in the bark of an ash-tree, and slip the bacon under the bark. soon the warts will disappear from your hand, only however to reappear in the shape of rough excrescences or knobs on the bark of the tree. at berkhampstead, in hertfordshire, there used to be certain oak-trees which were long celebrated for the cure of ague. the transference of the malady to the tree was simple but painful. a lock of the sufferer's hair was pegged into an oak; then by a sudden wrench he left his hair and his ague behind him in the tree. lvi. the public expulsion of evils . the omnipresence of demons in the foregoing chapter the primitive principle of the transference of ills to another person, animal, or thing was explained and illustrated. but similar means have been adopted to free a whole community from diverse evils that afflict it. such attempts to dismiss at once the accumulated sorrows of a people are by no means rare or exceptional; on the contrary they have been made in many lands, and from being occasional they tend to become periodic and annual. it needs some effort on our part to realise the frame of mind which prompts these attempts. bred in a philosophy which strips nature of personality and reduces it to the unknown cause of an orderly series of impressions on our senses, we find it hard to put ourselves in the place of the savage, to whom the same impressions appear in the guise of spirits or the handiwork of spirits. for ages the army of spirits, once so near, has been receding farther and farther from us, banished by the magic wand of science from hearth and home, from ruined cell and ivied tower, from haunted glade and lonely mere, from the riven murky cloud that belches forth the lightning, and from those fairer clouds that pillow the silvery moon or fret with flakes of burning red the golden eve. the spirits are gone even from their last stronghold in the sky, whose blue arch no longer passes, except with children, for the screen that hides from mortal eyes the glories of the celestial world. only in poets' dreams or impassioned flights of oratory is it given to catch a glimpse of the last flutter of the standards of the retreating host, to hear the beat of their invisible wings, the sound of their mocking laughter, or the swell of angel music dying away in the distance. far otherwise is it with the savage. to his imagination the world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons, still hover about him both waking and sleeping. they dog his footsteps, dazzle his senses, enter into him, harass and deceive and torment him in a thousand freakish and mischievous ways. the mishaps that befall him, the losses he sustains, the pains he has to endure, he commonly sets down, if not to the magic of his enemies, to the spite or anger or caprice of the spirits. their constant presence wearies him, their sleepless malignity exasperates him; he longs with an unspeakable longing to be rid of them altogether, and from time to time, driven to bay, his patience utterly exhausted, he turns fiercely on his persecutors and makes a desperate effort to chase the whole pack of them from the land, to clear the air of their swarming multitudes, that he may breathe more freely and go on his way unmolested, at least for a time. thus it comes about that the endeavour of primitive people to make a clean sweep of all their troubles generally takes the form of a grand hunting out and expulsion of devils or ghosts. they think that if they can only shake off these their accursed tormentors, they will make a fresh start in life, happy and innocent; the tales of eden and the old poetic golden age will come true again. . the occasional expulsion of evils we can therefore understand why those general clearances of evil, to which from time to time the savage resorts, should commonly take the form of a forcible expulsion of devils. in these evil spirits primitive man sees the cause of many if not of most of his troubles, and he fancies that if he can only deliver himself from them, things will go better with him. the public attempts to expel the accumulated ills of a whole community may be divided into two classes, according as the expelled evils are immaterial and invisible or are embodied in a material vehicle or scape-goat. the former may be called the direct or immediate expulsion of evils; the latter the indirect or mediate expulsion, or the expulsion by scapegoat. we begin with examples of the former. in the island of rook, between new guinea and new britain, when any misfortune has happened, all the people run together, scream, curse, howl, and beat the air with sticks to drive away the devil, who is supposed to be the author of the mishap. from the spot where the mishap took place they drive him step by step to the sea, and on reaching the shore they redouble their shouts and blows in order to expel him from the island. he generally retires to the sea or to the island of lottin. the natives of new britain ascribe sickness, drought, the failure of crops, and in short all misfortunes, to the influence of wicked spirits. so at times when many people sicken and die, as at the beginning of the rainy season, all the inhabitants of a district, armed with branches and clubs, go out by moonlight to the fields, where they beat and stamp on the ground with wild howls till morning, believing that this drives away the devils; and for the same purpose they rush through the village with burning torches. the natives of new caledonia are said to believe that all evils are caused by a powerful and malignant spirit; hence in order to rid themselves of him they will from time to time dig a great pit, round which the whole tribe gathers. after cursing the demon, they fill up the pit with earth, and trample on the top with loud shouts. this they call burying the evil spirit. among the dieri tribe of central australia, when a serious illness occurs, the medicine-men expel cootchie or the devil by beating the ground in and outside of the camp with the stuffed tail of a kangaroo, until they have chased the demon away to some distance from the camp. when a village has been visited by a series of disasters or a severe epidemic, the inhabitants of minahassa in celebes lay the blame upon the devils who are infesting the village and who must be expelled from it. accordingly, early one morning all the people, men, women, and children, quit their homes, carrying their household goods with them, and take up their quarters in temporary huts which have been erected outside the village. here they spend several days, offering sacrifices and preparing for the final ceremony. at last the men, some wearing masks, others with their faces blackened, and so on, but all armed with swords, guns, pikes, or brooms, steal cautiously and silently back to the deserted village. then, at a signal from the priest, they rush furiously up and down the streets and into and under the houses (which are raised on piles above the ground), yelling and striking on walls, doors, and windows, to drive away the devils. next, the priests and the rest of the people come with the holy fire and march nine times round each house and thrice round the ladder that leads up to it, carrying the fire with them. then they take the fire into the kitchen, where it must burn for three days continuously. the devils are now driven away, and great and general is the joy. the alfoors of halmahera attribute epidemics to the devil who comes from other villages to carry them off. so, in order to rid the village of the disease, the sorcerer drives away the devil. from all the villagers he receives a costly garment and places it on four vessels, which he takes to the forest and leaves at the spot where the devil is supposed to be. then with mocking words he bids the demon abandon the place. in the kei islands to the south-west of new guinea, the evil spirits, who are quite distinct from the souls of the dead, form a mighty host. almost every tree and every cave is the lodging-place of one of these fiends, who are moreover extremely irascible and apt to fly out on the smallest provocation. they manifest their displeasure by sending sickness and other calamities. hence in times of public misfortune, as when an epidemic is raging, and all other remedies have failed, the whole population go forth with the priest at their head to a place at some distance from the village. here at sunset they erect a couple of poles with a cross-bar between them, to which they attach bags of rice, wooden models of pivot-guns, gongs, bracelets, and so on. then, when everybody has taken his place at the poles and a death-like silence reigns, the priest lifts up his voice and addresses the spirits in their own language as follows: "ho! ho! ho! ye evil spirits who dwell in the trees, ye evil spirits who live in the grottoes, ye evil spirits who lodge in the earth, we give you these pivot-guns, these gongs, etc. let the sickness cease and not so many people die of it." then everybody runs home as fast as their legs can carry them. in the island of nias, when a man is seriously ill and other remedies have been tried in vain, the sorcerer proceeds to exorcise the devil who is causing the illness. a pole is set up in front of the house, and from the top of the pole a rope of palm-leaves is stretched to the roof of the house. then the sorcerer mounts the roof with a pig, which he kills and allows to roll from the roof to the ground. the devil, anxious to get the pig, lets himself down hastily from the roof by the rope of palm-leaves, and a good spirit, invoked by the sorcerer, prevents him from climbing up again. if this remedy fails, it is believed that other devils must still be lurking in the house. so a general hunt is made after them. all the doors and windows in the house are closed, except a single dormer-window in the roof. the men, shut up in the house, hew and slash with their swords right and left to the clash of gongs and the rub-a-dub of drums. terrified at this onslaught, the devils escape by the dormer-window, and sliding down the rope of palm-leaves take themselves off. as all the doors and windows, except the one in the roof, are shut, the devils cannot get into the house again. in the case of an epidemic, the proceedings are similar. all the gates of the village, except one, are closed; every voice is raised, every gong and drum beaten, every sword brandished. thus the devils are driven out and the last gate is shut behind them. for eight days thereafter the village is in a state of siege, no one being allowed to enter it. when cholera has broken out in a burmese village the able-bodied men scramble on the roofs and lay about them with bamboos and billets of wood, while all the rest of the population, old and young, stand below and thump drums, blow trumpets, yell, scream, beat floors, walls, tin pans, everything to make a din. this uproar, repeated on three successive nights, is thought to be very effective in driving away the cholera demons. when smallpox first appeared amongst the kumis of south-eastern india, they thought it was a devil come from aracan. the villages were placed in a state of siege, no one being allowed to leave or enter them. a monkey was killed by being dashed on the ground, and its body was hung at the village gate. its blood, mixed with small river pebbles, was sprinkled on the houses, the threshold of every house was swept with the monkey's tail, and the fiend was adjured to depart. when an epidemic is raging on the gold coast of west africa, the people will sometimes turn out, armed with clubs and torches, to drive the evil spirits away. at a given signal the whole population begin with frightful yells to beat in every corner of the houses, then rush like mad into the streets waving torches and striking frantically in the empty air. the uproar goes on till somebody reports that the cowed and daunted demons have made good their escape by a gate of the town or village; the people stream out after them, pursue them for some distance into the forest, and warn them never to return. the expulsion of the devils is followed by a general massacre of all the cocks in the village or town, lest by their unseasonable crowing they should betray to the banished demons the direction they must take to return to their old homes. when sickness was prevalent in a huron village, and all other remedies had been tried in vain, the indians had recourse to the ceremony called _lonouyroya,_ "which is the principal invention and most proper means, so they say, to expel from the town or village the devils and evil spirits which cause, induce, and import all the maladies and infirmities which they suffer in body and mind." accordingly, one evening the men would begin to rush like madmen about the village, breaking and upsetting whatever they came across in the wigwams. they threw fire and burning brands about the streets, and all night long they ran howling and singing without cessation. then they all dreamed of something, a knife, dog, skin, or whatever it might be, and when morning came they went from wigwam to wigwam asking for presents. these they received silently, till the particular thing was given them which they had dreamed about. on receiving it they uttered a cry of joy and rushed from the hut, amid the congratulations of all present. the health of those who received what they had dreamed of was believed to be assured; whereas those who did not get what they had set their hearts upon regarded their fate as sealed. sometimes, instead of chasing the demon of disease from their homes, savages prefer to leave him in peaceable possession, while they themselves take to flight and attempt to prevent him from following in their tracks. thus when the patagonians were attacked by small-pox, which they attributed to the machinations of an evil spirit, they used to abandon their sick and flee, slashing the air with their weapons and throwing water about in order to keep off the dreadful pursuer; and when after several days' march they reached a place where they hoped to be beyond his reach, they used by way of precaution to plant all their cutting weapons with the sharp edges turned towards the quarter from which they had come, as if they were repelling a charge of cavalry. similarly, when the lules or tonocotes indians of the gran chaco were attacked by an epidemic, they regularly sought to evade it by flight, but in so doing they always followed a sinuous, not a straight, course; because they said that when the disease made after them he would be so exhausted by the turnings and windings of the route that he would never be able to come up with them. when the indians of new mexico were decimated by smallpox or other infectious disease, they used to shift their quarters every day, retreating into the most sequestered parts of the mountains and choosing the thorniest thickets they could find, in the hope that the smallpox would be too afraid of scratching himself on the thorns to follow them. when some chins on a visit to rangoon were attacked by cholera, they went about with drawn swords to scare away the demon, and they spent the day hiding under bushes so that he might not be able to find them. . the periodic expulsion of evils the expulsion of evils, from being occasional, tends to become periodic. it comes to be thought desirable to have a general riddance of evil spirits at fixed times, usually once a year, in order that the people may make a fresh start in life, freed from all the malignant influences which have been long accumulating about them. some of the australian blacks annually expelled the ghosts of the dead from their territory. the ceremony was witnessed by the rev. w. ridley on the banks of the river barwan. "a chorus of twenty, old and young, were singing and beating time with boomerangs. . . . suddenly, from under a sheet of bark darted a man with his body whitened by pipeclay, his head and face coloured with lines of red and yellow, and a tuft of feathers fixed by means of a stick two feet above the crown of his head. he stood twenty minutes perfectly still, gazing upwards. an aboriginal who stood by told me he was looking for the ghosts of dead men. at last he began to move very slowly, and soon rushed to and fro at full speed, flourishing a branch as if to drive away some foes invisible to us. when i thought this pantomime must be almost over, ten more, similarly adorned, suddenly appeared from behind the trees, and the whole party joined in a brisk conflict with their mysterious assailants. . . . at last, after some rapid evolutions in which they put forth all their strength, they rested from the exciting toil which they had kept up all night and for some hours after sunrise; they seemed satisfied that the ghosts were driven away for twelve months. they were performing the same ceremony at every station along the river, and i am told it is an annual custom." certain seasons of the year mark themselves naturally out as appropriate moments for a general expulsion of devils. such a moment occurs towards the close of an arctic winter, when the sun reappears on the horizon after an absence of weeks or months. accordingly, at point barrow, the most northerly extremity of alaska, and nearly of america, the esquimaux choose the moment of the sun's reappearance to hunt the mischievous spirit tuña from every house. the ceremony was witnessed by the members of the united states polar expedition, who wintered at point barrow. a fire was built in front of the council-house, and an old woman was posted at the entrance to every house. the men gathered round the council-house while the young women and girls drove the spirit out of every house with their knives, stabbing viciously under the bunk and deer-skins, and calling upon tuña to be gone. when they thought he had been driven out of every hole and corner, they thrust him down through the hole in the floor and chased him into the open air with loud cries and frantic gestures. meanwhile the old woman at the entrance of the house made passes with a long knife in the air to keep him from returning. each party drove the spirit towards the fire and invited him to go into it. all were by this time drawn up in a semicircle round the fire, when several of the leading men made specific charges against the spirit; and each after his speech brushed his clothes violently, calling on the spirit to leave him and go into the fire. two men now stepped forward with rifles loaded with blank cartridges, while a third brought a vessel of urine and flung it on the flames. at the same time one of the men fired a shot into the fire; and as the cloud of steam rose it received the other shot, which was supposed to finish tunña for the time being. in late autumn, when storms rage over the land and break the icy fetters by which the frozen sea is as yet but slightly bound, when the loosened floes are driven against each other and break with loud crashes, and when the cakes of ice are piled in wild disorder one upon another, the esquimaux of baffin land fancy they hear the voices of the spirits who people the mischief-laden air. then the ghosts of the dead knock wildly at the huts, which they cannot enter, and woe to the hapless wight whom they catch; he soon sickens and dies. then the phantom of a huge hairless dog pursues the real dogs, which expire in convulsions and cramps at sight of him. all the countless spirits of evil are abroad striving to bring sickness and death, foul weather and failure in hunting on the esquimaux. most dreaded of all these spectral visitants are sedna, mistress of the nether world, and her father, to whose share dead esquimaux fall. while the other spirits fill the air and the water, she rises from under ground. it is then a busy season for the wizards. in every house you may hear them singing and praying, while they conjure the spirits, seated in a mystic gloom at the back of the hut, which is dimly lit by a lamp burning low. the hardest task of all is to drive away sedna, and this is reserved for the most powerful enchanter. a rope is coiled on the floor of a large hut in such a way as to leave a small opening at the top, which represents the breathing hole of a seal. two enchanters stand beside it, one of them grasping a spear as if he were watching a seal-hole in winter, the other holding the harpoon-line. a third sorcerer sits at the back of the hut chanting a magic song to lure sedna to the spot. now she is heard approaching under the floor of the hut, breathing heavily; now she emerges at the hole; now she is harpooned and sinks away in angry haste, dragging the harpoon with her, while the two men hold on to the line with all their might. the struggle is severe, but at last by a desperate wrench she tears herself away and returns to her dwelling in adlivun. when the harpoon is drawn up out of the hole it is found to be splashed with blood, which the enchanters proudly exhibit as a proof of their prowess. thus sedna and the other evil spirits are at last driven away, and next day a great festival is celebrated by old and young in honour of the event. but they must still be cautious, for the wounded sedna is furious and will seize any one she may find outside of his hut; so they all wear amulets on the top of their hoods to protect themselves against her. these amulets consist of pieces of the first garments that they wore after birth. the iroquois inaugurated the new year in january, february, or march (the time varied) with a "festival of dreams" like that which the hurons observed on special occasions. the whole ceremonies lasted several days, or even weeks, and formed a kind of saturnalia. men and women, variously disguised, went from wigwam to wigwam smashing and throwing down whatever they came across. it was a time of general license; the people were supposed to be out of their senses, and therefore not to be responsible for what they did. accordingly, many seized the opportunity of paying off old scores by belabouring obnoxious persons, drenching them with ice-cold water, and covering them with filth or hot ashes. others seized burning brands or coals and flung them at the heads of the first persons they met. the only way of escaping from these persecutors was to guess what they had dreamed of. on one day of the festival the ceremony of driving away evil spirits from the village took place. men clothed in the skins of wild beasts, their faces covered with hideous masks, and their hands with the shell of the tortoise, went from hut to hut making frightful noises; in every hut they took the fuel from the fire and scattered the embers and ashes about the floor with their hands. the general confession of sins which preceded the festival was probably a preparation for the public expulsion of evil influences; it was a way of stripping the people of their moral burdens, that these might be collected and cast out. in september the incas of peru celebrated a festival called situa, the object of which was to banish from the capital and its vicinity all disease and trouble. the festival fell in september because the rains begin about this time, and with the first rains there was generally much sickness. as a preparation for the festival the people fasted on the first day of the moon after the autumnal equinox. having fasted during the day, and the night being come, they baked a coarse paste of maize. this paste was made of two sorts. one was kneaded with the blood of children aged from five to ten years, the blood being obtained by bleeding the children between the eyebrows. these two kinds of paste were baked separately, because they were for different uses. each family assembled at the house of the eldest brother to celebrate the feast; and those who had no elder brother went to the house of their next relation of greater age. on the same night all who had fasted during the day washed their bodies, and taking a little of the blood-kneaded paste, rubbed it over their head, face, breast, shoulders, arms and legs. they did this in order that the paste might take away all their infirmities. after this the head of the family anointed the threshold with the same paste, and left it there as a token that the inmates of the house had performed their ablutions and cleansed their bodies. meantime the high priest performed the same ceremonies in the temple of the sun. as soon as the sun rose, all the people worshipped and besought him to drive all evils out of the city, and then they broke their fast with the paste that had been kneaded without blood. when they had paid their worship and broken their fast, which they did at a stated hour, in order that all might adore the sun as one man, an inca of the blood royal came forth from the fortress, as a messenger of the sun, richly dressed, with his mantle girded round his body, and a lance in his hand. the lance was decked with feathers of many hues, extending from the blade to the socket, and fastened with rings of gold. he ran down the hill from the fortress brandishing his lance, till he reached the centre of the great square, where stood the golden urn, like a fountain, that was used for the sacrifice of the fermented juice of the maize. here four other incas of the blood royal awaited him, each with a lance in his hand, and his mantle girded up to run. the messenger touched their four lances with his lance, and told them that the sun bade them, as his messengers, drive the evils out of the city. the four incas then separated and ran down the four royal roads which led out of the city to the four quarters of the world. while they ran, all the people, great and small, came to the doors of their houses, and with great shouts of joy and gladness shook their clothes, as if they were shaking off dust, while they cried, "let the evils be gone. how greatly desired has this festival been by us. o creator of all things, permit us to reach another year, that we may see another feast like this." after they had shaken their clothes, they passed their hands over their heads, faces, arms, and legs, as if in the act of washing. all this was done to drive the evils out of their houses, that the messengers of the sun might banish them from the city; and it was done not only in the streets through which the incas ran, but generally in all quarters of the city. moreover, they all danced, the inca himself amongst them, and bathed in the rivers and fountains, saying that their maladies would come out of them. then they took great torches of straw, bound round with cords. these they lighted, and passed from one to the other, striking each other with them, and saying, "let all harm go away." meanwhile the runners ran with their lances for a quarter of a league outside the city, where they found four other incas ready, who received the lances from their hands and ran with them. thus the lances were carried by relays of runners for a distance of five or six leagues, at the end of which the runners washed themselves and their weapons in rivers, and set up the lances, in sign of a boundary within which the banished evils might not return. the negroes of guinea annually banish the devil from all their towns with much ceremony at a time set apart for the purpose. at axim, on the gold coast, this annual expulsion is preceded by a feast of eight days, during which mirth and jollity, skipping, dancing, and singing prevail, and "a perfect lampooning liberty is allowed, and scandal so highly exalted, that they may freely sing of all the faults, villanies, and frauds of their superiors as well as inferiors, without punishment, or so much as the least interruption." on the eighth day they hunt out the devil with a dismal cry, running after him and pelting him with sticks, stones, and whatever comes to hand. when they have driven him far enough out of the town, they all return. in this way he is expelled from more than a hundred towns at the same time. to make sure that he does not return to their houses, the women wash and scour all their wooden and earthen vessels, "to free them from all uncleanness and the devil." at cape coast castle, on the gold coast, the ceremony was witnessed on the ninth of october, , by an englishman, who has described it as follows: "to-night the annual custom of driving the evil spirit, abonsam, out of the town has taken place. as soon as the eight o'clock gun fired in the fort the people began firing muskets in their houses, turning all their furniture out of doors, beating about in every corner of the rooms with sticks, etc., and screaming as loudly as possible, in order to frighten the devil. being driven out of the houses, as they imagine, they sallied forth into the streets, throwing lighted torches about, shouting, screaming, beating sticks together, rattling old pans, making the most horrid noise, in order to drive him out of the town into the sea. the custom is preceded by four weeks' dead silence; no gun is allowed to be fired, no drum to be beaten, no palaver to be made between man and man. if, during these weeks, two natives should disagree and make a noise in the town, they are immediately taken before the king and fined heavily. if a dog or pig, sheep or goat be found at large in the street, it may be killed, or taken by anyone, the former owner not being allowed to demand any compensation. this silence is designed to deceive abonsam, that, being off his guard, he may be taken by surprise, and frightened out of the place. if anyone die during the silence, his relatives are not allowed to weep until the four weeks have been completed." sometimes the date of the annual expulsion of devils is fixed with reference to the agricultural seasons. thus among the hos of togoland, in west africa, the expulsion is performed annually before the people partake of the new yams. the chiefs summon the priests and magicians and tell them that the people are now to eat the new yams and be merry, therefore they must cleanse the town and remove the evils. accordingly the evil spirits, witches, and all the ills that infest the people are conjured into bundles of leaves and creepers, fastened to poles, which are carried away and set up in the earth on various roads outside the town. during the following night no fire may be lit and no food eaten. next morning the women sweep out their hearths and houses, and deposit the sweepings on broken wooden plates. then the people pray, saying, "all ye sicknesses that are in our body and plague us, we are come to-day to throw you out." thereupon they run as fast as they can in the direction of mount adaklu, smiting their mouths and screaming, "out to-day! out to-day! that which kills anybody, out to-day! ye evil spirits, out to-day! and all that causes our heads to ache, out to-day! anlo and adaklu are the places whither all ill shall betake itself!" when they have come to a certain tree on mount adaklu, they throw everything away and return home. at kiriwina, in south-eastern new guinea, when the new yams had been harvested, the people feasted and danced for many days, and a great deal of property, such as armlets, native money, and so forth, was displayed conspicuously on a platform erected for the purpose. when the festivities were over, all the people gathered together and expelled the spirits from the village by shouting, beating the posts of the houses, and overturning everything under which a wily spirit might be supposed to lurk. the explanation which the people gave to a missionary was that they had entertained and feasted the spirits and provided them with riches, and it was now time for them to take their departure. had they not seen the dances, and heard the songs, and gorged themselves on the souls of the yams, and appropriated the souls of the money and all the other fine things set out on the platform? what more could the spirits want? so out they must go. among the hos of north-eastern india the great festival of the year is the harvest home, held in january, when the granaries are full of grain, and the people, to use their own expression, are full of devilry. "they have a strange notion that at this period, men and women are so overcharged with vicious propensities, that it is absolutely necessary for the safety of the person to let off steam by allowing for a time full vent to the passions." the ceremonies open with a sacrifice to the village god of three fowls, a cock and two hens, one of which must be black. along with them are offered flowers of the palas tree (_butea frondosa_), bread made from rice-flour, and sesamum seeds. these offerings are presented by the village priest, who prays that during the year about to begin they and their children may be preserved from all misfortune and sickness, and that they may have seasonable rain and good crops. prayer is also made in some places for the souls of the dead. at this time an evil spirit is supposed to infest the place, and to get rid of it men, women, and children go in procession round and through every part of the village with sticks in their hands, as if beating for game, singing a wild chant, and shouting vociferously, till they feel assured that the evil spirit must have fled. then they give themselves up to feasting and drinking rice-beer, till they are in a fit state for the wild debauch which follows. the festival now "becomes a saturnale, during which servants forget their duty to their masters, children their reverence for parents, men their respect for women, and women all notions of modesty, delicacy, and gentleness; they become raging bacchantes." usually the hos are quiet and reserved in manner, decorous and gentle to women. but during this festival "their natures appear to undergo a temporary change. sons and daughters revile their parents in gross language, and parents their children; men and women become almost like animals in the indulgence of their amorous propensities." the mundaris, kinsmen and neighbours of the hos, keep the festival in much the same manner. "the resemblance to a saturnale is very complete, as at this festival the farm labourers are feasted by their masters, and allowed the utmost freedom of speech in addressing them. it is the festival of the harvest home; the termination of one year's toil, and a slight respite from it before they commence again." amongst some of the hindoo koosh tribes, as among the hos and mundaris, the expulsion of devils takes place after harvest. when the last crop of autumn has been got in, it is thought necessary to drive away evil spirits from the granaries. a kind of porridge is eaten, and the head of the family takes his matchlock and fires it into the floor. then, going outside, he sets to work loading and firing till his powder-horn is exhausted, while all his neighbours are similarly employed. the next day is spent in rejoicings. in chitral this festival is called "devil-driving." on the other hand the khonds of india expel the devils at seed-time instead of at harvest. at this time they worship pitteri pennu, the god of increase and of gain in every shape. on the first day of the festival a rude car is made of a basket set upon a few sticks, tied upon the bamboo rollers for wheels. the priest takes this car first to the house of the lineal head of the tribe, to whom precedence is given in all ceremonies connected with agriculture. here he receives a little of each kind of seed and some feathers. he then takes the car to all the other houses in the village, each of which contributes the same things. lastly, the car is conducted to a field without the village, attended by all the young men, who beat each other and strike the air violently with long sticks. the seed thus carried out is called the share of the "evil spirits, spoilers of the seed." "these are considered to be driven out with the car; and when it and its contents are abandoned to them, they are held to have no excuse for interfering with the rest of the seed-corn." the people of bali, an island to the east of java, have periodical expulsions of devils upon a great scale. generally the time chosen for the expulsion is the day of the "dark moon" in the ninth month. when the demons have been long unmolested the country is said to be "warm," and the priest issues orders to expel them by force, lest the whole of bali should be rendered uninhabitable. on the day appointed the people of the village or district assemble at the principal temple. here at a cross-road offerings are set out for the devils. after prayers have been recited by the priests, the blast of a horn summons the devils to partake of the meal which has been prepared for them. at the same time a number of men step forward and light their torches at the holy lamp which burns before the chief priest. immediately afterwards, followed by the bystanders, they spread in all directions and march through the streets and lanes crying, "depart! go away!" wherever they pass, the people who have stayed at home hasten, by a deafening clatter on doors, beams, rice-blocks, and so forth, to take their share in the expulsion of devils. thus chased from the houses, the fiends flee to the banquet which has been set out for them; but here the priest receives them with curses which finally drive them from the district. when the last devil has taken his departure, the uproar is succeeded by a dead silence, which lasts during the next day also. the devils, it is thought, are anxious to return to their old homes, and in order to make them think that bali is not bali but some desert island, no one may stir from his own abode for twenty-four hours. even ordinary household work, including cooking, is discontinued. only the watchmen may show themselves in the streets. wreaths of thorns and leaves are hung at all the entrances to warn strangers from entering. not till the third day is this state of siege raised, and even then it is forbidden to work at the rice-fields or to buy and sell in the market. most people still stay at home, whiling away the time with cards and dice. in tonquin a _theckydaw_ or general expulsion of maleyolent spirits commonly took place once a year, especially if there was a great mortality amongst men, the elephants or horses of the general's stable, or the cattle of the country, "the cause of which they attribute to the malicious spirits of such men as have been put to death for treason, rebellion, and conspiring the death of the king, general, or princes, and that in revenge of the punishment they have suffered, they are bent to destroy everything and commit horrible violence. to prevent which their superstition has suggested to them the institution of this _theckydaw,_ as a proper means to drive the devil away, and purge the country of evil spirits." the day appointed for the ceremony was generally the twenty-fifth of february, one month after the beginning of the new year, which fell on the twenty-fifth of january. the intermediate month was a season of feasting, merry-making of all kinds, and general licence. during the whole month the great seal was kept shut up in a box, face downwards, and the law was, as it were, laid asleep. all courts of justice were closed; debtors could not be seized; small crimes, such as petty larceny, fighting, and assault, escaped with impunity; only treason and murder were taken account of and the malefactors detained till the great seal should come into operation again. at the close of the saturnalia the wicked spirits were driven away. great masses of troops and artillery having been drawn up with flying colours and all the pomp of war, "the general beginneth then to offer meat offerings to the criminal devils and malevolent spirits (for it is usual and customary likewise amongst them to feast the condemned before their execution), inviting them to eat and drink, when presently he accuses them in a strange language, by characters and figures, etc., of many offences and crimes committed by them, as to their having disquieted the land, killed his elephants and horses, etc., for all which they justly deserve to be chastised and banished the country. whereupon three great guns are fired as the last signal; upon which all the artillery and musquets are discharged, that, by their most terrible noise the devils may be driven away; and they are so blind as to believe for certain, that they really and effectually put them to flight." in cambodia the expulsion of evil spirits took place in march. bits of broken statues and stones, considered as the abode of the demons, were collected and brought to the capital. here as many elephants were collected as could be got together. on the evening of the full moon volleys of musketry were fired and the elephants charged furiously to put the devils to flight. the ceremony was performed on three successive days. in siam the banishment of demons is annually carried into effect on the last day of the old year. a signal gun is fired from the palace; it is answered from the next station, and so on from station to station, till the firing has reached the outer gate of the city. thus the demons are driven out step by step. as soon as this is done a consecrated rope is fastened round the circuit of the city walls to prevent the banished demons from returning. the rope is made of tough couch-grass and is painted in alternate stripes of red, yellow, and blue. annual expulsions of demons, witches, or evil influences appear to have been common among the heathen of europe, if we may judge from the relics of such customs among their descendants at the present day. thus among the heathen wotyaks, a finnish people of eastern russia, all the young girls of the village assemble on the last day of the year or on new year's day, armed with sticks, the ends of which are split in nine places. with these they beat every corner of the house and yard, saying, "we are driving satan out of the village." afterwards the sticks are thrown into the river below the village, and as they float down stream satan goes with them to the next village, from which he must be driven out in turn. in some villages the expulsion is managed otherwise. the unmarried men receive from every house in the village groats, flesh, and brandy. these they take to the fields, light a fire under a fir-tree, boil the groats, and eat of the food they have brought with them, after pronouncing the words, "go away into the wilderness, come not into the house." then they return to the village and enter every house where there are young women. they take hold of the young women and throw them into the snow, saying, "may the spirits of disease leave you." the remains of the groats and the other food are then distributed among all the houses in proportion to the amount that each contributed, and each family consumes its share. according to a wotyak of the malmyz district the young men throw into the snow whomever they find in the houses, and this is called "driving out satan"; moreover, some of the boiled groats are cast into the fire with the words, "o god, afflict us not with sickness and pestilence, give us not up as a prey to the spirits of the wood." but the most antique form of the ceremony is that observed by the wotyaks of the kasan government. first of all a sacrifice is offered to the devil at noon. then all the men assemble on horseback in the centre of the village, and decide with which house they shall begin. when this question, which often gives rise to hot disputes, is settled, they tether their horses to the paling, and arm themselves with whips, clubs of lime-wood and bundles of lighted twigs. the lighted twigs are believed to have the greatest terrors for satan. thus armed, they proceed with frightful cries to beat every corner of the house and yard, then shut the door, and spit at the ejected fiend. so they go from house to house, till the devil has been driven from every one. then they mount their horses and ride out of the village, yelling wildly and brandishing their clubs in every direction. outside of the village they fling away the clubs and spit once more at the devil. the cheremiss, another finnish people of eastern russia, chase satan from their dwellings by beating the walls with cudgels of lime-wood. for the same purpose they fire guns, stab the ground with knives, and insert burning chips of wood in the crevices. also they leap over bonfires, shaking out their garments as they do so; and in some districts they blow on long trumpets of lime-tree bark to frighten him away. when he has fled to the wood, they pelt the trees with some of the cheese-cakes and eggs which furnished the feast. in christian europe the old heathen custom of expelling the powers of evil at certain times of the year has survived to modern times. thus in some villages of calabria the month of march is inaugurated with the expulsion of the witches. it takes place at night to the sound of the church bells, the people running about the streets and crying, "march is come." they say that the witches roam about in march, and the ceremony is repeated every friday evening during the month. often, as might have been anticipated, the ancient pagan rite has attached itself to church festivals. in albania on easter eve the young people light torches of resinous wood and march in procession, swinging them, through the village. at last they throw the torches into the river, crying, "ha, kore! we throw you into the river, like these torches, that you may never return." silesian peasants believe that on good friday the witches go their rounds and have great power for mischief. hence about oels, near strehlitz, the people on that day arm themselves with old brooms and drive the witches from house and home, from farmyard and cattle-stall, making a great uproar and clatter as they do so. in central europe the favourite time for expelling the witches is, or was, walpurgis night, the eve of may day, when the baleful powers of these mischievous beings were supposed to be at their height. in the tyrol, for example, as in other places, the expulsion of the powers of evil at this season goes by the name of "burning out the witches." it takes place on may day, but people have been busy with their preparations for days before. on a thursday at midnight bundles are made up of resinous splinters, black and red spotted hemlock, caperspurge, rosemary, and twigs of the sloe. these are kept and burned on may day by men who must first have received plenary absolution from the church. on the last three days of april all the houses are cleansed and fumigated with juniper berries and rue. on may day, when the evening bell has rung and the twilight is falling, the ceremony of "burning out the witches" begins. men and boys make a racket with whips, bells, pots, and pans; the women carry censers; the dogs are unchained and run barking and yelping about. as soon as the church bells begin to ring, the bundles of twigs, fastened on poles, are set on fire and the incense is ignited. then all the house-bells and dinner-bells are rung, pots and pans are clashed, dogs bark, every one must make a noise. and amid this hubbub all scream at the pitch of their voices: "_witch flee, flee from here, or it will go ill with thee._" then they run seven times round the houses, the yards, and the village. so the witches are smoked out of their lurking-places and driven away. the custom of expelling the witches on walpurgis night is still, or was down to recent years, observed in many parts of bavaria and among the germans of bohemia. thus in the böhmer-wald mountains all the young fellows of the village assemble after sunset on some height, especially at a cross-road, and crack whips for a while in unison with all their strength. this drives away the witches; for so far as the sound of the whips is heard, these maleficent beings can do no harm. in some places, while the young men are cracking their whips, the herdsmen wind their horns, and the long-drawn notes, heard far off in the silence of night, are very effectual for banning the witches. another witching time is the period of twelve days between christmas and epiphany. hence in some parts of silesia the people burn pine-resin all night long between christmas and the new year in order that the pungent smoke may drive witches and evil spirits far away from house and homestead; and on christmas eve and new year's eve they fire shots over fields and meadows, into shrubs and trees, and wrap straw round the fruit-trees, to prevent the spirits from doing them harm. on new year's eve, which is saint sylvester's day, bohemian lads, armed with guns, form themselves into circles and fire thrice into the air. this is called "shooting the witches" and is supposed to frighten the witches away. the last of the mystic twelve days is epiphany or twelfth night, and it has been selected as a proper season for the expulsion of the powers of evil in various parts of europe. thus at brunnen, on the lake of lucerne, boys go about in procession on twelfth night carrying torches and making a great noise with horns, bells, whips, and so forth to frighten away two female spirits of the wood, strudeli and strätteli. the people think that if they do not make enough noise, there will be little fruit that year. again, in labruguière, a canton of southern france, on the eve of twelfth day the people run through the streets, jangling bells, clattering kettles, and doing everything to make a discordant noise. then by the light of torches and blazing faggots they set up a prodigious hue and cry, an ear-splitting uproar, hoping thereby to chase all the wandering ghosts and devils from the town. lvii. public scapegoats . the expulsion of embodied evils thus far we have dealt with that class of the general expulsion of evils which i have called direct or immediate. in this class the evils are invisible, at least to common eyes, and the mode of deliverance consists for the most part in beating the empty air and raising such a hubbub as may scare the mischievous spirits and put them to flight. it remains to illustrate the second class of expulsions, in which the evil influences are embodied in a visible form or are at least supposed to be loaded upon a material medium, which acts as a vehicle to draw them off from the people, village, or town. the pomos of california celebrate an expulsion of devils every seven years, at which the devils are represented by disguised men. "twenty or thirty men array themselves in harlequin rig and barbaric paint, and put vessels of pitch on their heads; then they secretly go out into the surrounding mountains. these are to personify the devils. a herald goes up to the top of the assembly-house, and makes a speech to the multitude. at a signal agreed upon in the evening the masqueraders come in from the mountains, with the vessels of pitch flaming on their heads, and with all the frightful accessories of noise, motion, and costume which the savage mind can devise in representation of demons. the terrified women and children flee for life, the men huddle them inside a circle, and, on the principle of fighting the devil with fire, they swing blazing firebrands in the air, yell, whoop, and make frantic dashes at the marauding and bloodthirsty devils, so creating a terrific spectacle, and striking great fear into the hearts of the assembled hundreds of women, who are screaming and fainting and clinging to their valorous protectors. finally the devils succeed in getting into the assembly-house, and the bravest of the men enter and hold a parley with them. as a conclusion of the whole farce, the men summon courage, the devils are expelled from the assembly-house, and with a prodigious row and racket of sham fighting are chased away into the mountains." in spring, as soon as the willow-leaves were full grown on the banks of the river, the mandan indians celebrated their great annual festival, one of the features of which was the expulsion of the devil. a man, painted black to represent the devil, entered the village from the prairie, chased and frightened the women, and acted the part of a buffalo bull in the buffalo dance, the object of which was to ensure a plentiful supply of buffaloes during the ensuing year. finally he was chased from the village, the women pursuing him with hisses and gibes, beating him with sticks, and pelting him with dirt. some of the native tribes of central queensland believe in a noxious being called molonga, who prowls unseen and would kill men and violate women if certain ceremonies were not performed. these ceremonies last for five nights and consist of dances, in which only men, fantastically painted and adorned, take part. on the fifth night molonga himself, personified by a man tricked out with red ochre and feathers and carrying a long feather-tipped spear, rushes forth from the darkness at the spectators and makes as if he would run them through. great is the excitement, loud are the shrieks and shouts, but after another feigned attack the demon vanishes in the gloom. on the last night of the year the palace of the kings of cambodia is purged of devils. men painted as fiends are chased by elephants about the palace courts. when they have been expelled, a consecrated thread of cotton is stretched round the palace to keep them out. in munzerabad, a district of mysore in southern india, when cholera or smallpox has broken out in a parish, the inhabitants assemble and conjure the demon of the disease into a wooden image, which they carry, generally at midnight, into the next parish. the inhabitants of that parish in like manner pass the image on to their neighbours, and thus the demon is expelled from one village after another, until he comes to the bank of a river into which he is finally thrown. oftener, however, the expelled demons are not represented at all, but are understood to be present invisibly in the material and visible vehicle which conveys them away. here, again, it will be convenient to distinguish between occasional and periodical expulsions. we begin with the former. . the occasional expulsion of evils in a material vehicle the vehicle which conveys away the demons may be of various kinds. a common one is a little ship or boat. thus, in the southern district of the island of ceram, when a whole village suffers from sickness, a small ship is made and filled with rice, tobacco, eggs, and so forth, which have been contributed by all the people. a little sail is hoisted on the ship. when all is ready, a man calls out in a very loud voice, "o all ye sicknesses, ye smallpoxes, agues, measles, etc., who have visited us so long and wasted us so sorely, but who now cease to plague us, we have made ready this ship for you, and we have furnished you with provender sufficient for the voyage. ye shall have no lack of food nor of betel-leaves nor of areca nuts nor of tobacco. depart, and sail away from us directly; never come near us again; but go to a land which is far from here. let all the tides and winds waft you speedily thither, and so convey you thither that for the time to come we may live sound and well, and that we may never see the sun rise on you again." then ten or twelve men carry the vessel to the shore, and let it drift away with the land-breeze, feeling convinced that they are free from sickness for ever, or at least till the next time. if sickness attacks them again, they are sure it is not the same sickness, but a different one, which in due time they dismiss in the same manner. when the demon-laden bark is lost to sight, the bearers return to the village, whereupon a man cries out, "the sicknesses are now gone, vanished, expelled, and sailed away." at this all the people come running out of their houses, passing the word from one to the other with great joy, beating on gongs and on tinkling instruments. similar ceremonies are commonly resorted to in other east indian islands. thus in timor-laut, to mislead the demons who are causing sickness, a small proa, containing the image of a man and provisioned for a long voyage, is allowed to drift away with wind and tide. as it is being launched, the people cry, "o sickness, go from here; turn back; what do you here in this poor land?" three days after this ceremony a pig is killed, and part of the flesh is offered to dudilaa, who lives in the sun. one of the oldest men says, "old sir, i beseech you make well the grand-children, children, women, and men, that we may be able to eat pork and rice and to drink palmwine. i will keep my promise. eat your share, and make all the people in the village well." if the proa is stranded at any inhabited spot, the sickness will break out there. hence a stranded proa excites much alarm amongst the coast population, and they immediately burn it, because demons fly from fire. in the island of buru the proa which carries away the demons of disease is about twenty feet long, rigged out with sails, oars, anchor, and so on, and well stocked with provisions. for a day and a night the people beat gongs and drums, and rush about to frighten the demons. next morning ten stalwart young men strike the people with branches, which have been previously dipped in an earthen pot of water. as soon as they have done so, they run down to the beach, put the branches on board the proa, launch another boat in great haste, and tow the disease-burdened bark far out to sea. there they cast it off, and one of them calls out, "grandfather smallpox, go away--go willingly away--go visit another land; we have made you food ready for the voyage, we have now nothing more to give." when they have landed, all the people bathe together in the sea. in this ceremony the reason for striking the people with the branches is clearly to rid them of the disease-demons, which are then supposed to be transferred to the branches. hence the haste with which the branches are deposited in the proa and towed away to sea. so in the inland districts of ceram, when smallpox or other sickness is raging, the priest strikes all the houses with consecrated branches, which are then thrown into the river, to be carried down to the sea; exactly as amongst the wotyaks of russia the sticks which have been used for expelling the devils from the village are thrown into the river, that the current may sweep the baleful burden away. the plan of putting puppets in the boat to represent sick persons, in order to lure the demons after them, is not uncommon. for example, most of the pagan tribes on the coast of borneo seek to drive away epidemic disease as follows. they carve one or more rough human images from the pith of the sago palm and place them on a small raft or boat or full-rigged malay ship together with rice and other food. the boat is decked with blossoms of the areca palm and with ribbons made from its leaves, and thus adorned the little craft is allowed to float out to sea with the ebb-tide, bearing, as the people fondly think or hope, the sickness away with it. often the vehicle which carries away the collected demons or ills of a whole community is an animal or scapegoat. in the central provinces of india, when cholera breaks out in a village, every one retires after sunset to his house. the priests then parade the streets, taking from the roof of each house a straw, which is burnt with an offering of rice, ghee, and turmeric, at some shrine to the east of the village. chickens daubed with vermilion are driven away in the direction of the smoke, and are believed to carry the disease with them. if they fail, goats are tried, and last of all pigs. when cholera rages among the bhars, mallans, and kurmis of india, they take a goat or a buffalo--in either case the animal must be a female, and as black as possible--then having tied some grain, cloves, and red lead in a yellow cloth on its back they turn it out of the village. the animal is conducted beyond the boundary and not allowed to return. sometimes the buffalo is marked with a red pigment and driven to the next village, where he carries the plague with him. amongst the dinkas, a pastoral people of the white nile, each family possesses a sacred cow. when the country is threatened with war, famine, or any other public calamity, the chiefs of the village require a particular family to surrender their sacred cow to serve as a scapegoat. the animal is driven by the women to the brink of the river and across it to the other bank, there to wander in the wilderness and fall a prey to ravening beasts. then the women return in silence and without looking behind them; were they to cast a backward glance, they imagine that the ceremony would have no effect. in , when the aymara indians of bolivia and peru were suffering from a plague, they loaded a black llama with the clothes of the plague-stricken people, sprinkled brandy on the clothes, and then turned the animal loose on the mountains, hoping that it would carry the pest away with it. occasionally the scapegoat is a man. for example, from time to time the gods used to warn the king of uganda that his foes the banyoro were working magic against him and his people to make them die of disease. to avert such a catastrophe the king would send a scapegoat to the frontier of bunyoro, the land of the enemy. the scapegoat consisted of either a man and a boy or a woman and her child, chosen because of some mark or bodily defect, which the gods had noted and by which the victims were to be recognised. with the human victims were sent a cow, a goat, a fowl, and a dog; and a strong guard escorted them to the land which the god had indicated. there the limbs of the victims were broken and they were left to die a lingering death in the enemy's country, being too crippled to crawl back to uganda. the disease or plague was thought to have been thus transferred to the victims and to have been conveyed back in their persons to the land from which it came. some of the aboriginal tribes of china, as a protection against pestilence, select a man of great muscular strength to act the part of scapegoat. having besmeared his face with paint, he performs many antics with the view of enticing all pestilential and noxious influences to attach themselves to him only. he is assisted by a priest. finally the scapegoat, hotly pursued by men and women beating gongs and tom-toms, is driven with great haste out of the town or village. in the punjaub a cure for the murrain is to hire a man of the chamar caste, turn his face away from the village, brand him with a red-hot sickle, and let him go out into the jungle taking the murrain with him. he must not look back. . the periodic expulsion of evils in a material vehicle the mediate expulsion of evils by means of a scapegoat or other material vehicle, like the immediate expulsion of them in invisible form, tends to become periodic, and for a like reason. thus every year, generally in march, the people of leti, moa, and lakor, islands of the indian archipelago, send away all their diseases to sea. they make a proa about six feet long, rig it with sails, oars, rudder, and other gear, and every family deposits in its some rice, fruit, a fowl, two eggs, insects that ravage the fields, and so on. then they let it drift away to sea, saying, "take away from here all kinds of sickness, take them to other islands, to other lands, distribute them in places that lie eastward, where the sun rises." the biajas of borneo annually send to sea a little bark laden with the sins and misfortunes of the people. the crew of any ship that falls in with the ill-omened bark at sea will suffer all the sorrows with which it is laden. a like custom is annually observed by the dusuns of the tuaran district in british north borneo. the ceremony is the most important of the whole year. its aim is to bring good luck to the village during the ensuing year by solemnly expelling all the evil spirits that may have collected in or about the houses throughout the last twelve months. the task of routing out the demons and banishing them devolves chiefly on women. dressed in their finest array, they go in procession through the village. one of them carries a small sucking pig in a basket on her back; and all of them bear wands, with which they belabour the little pig at the appropriate moment; its squeals help to attract the vagrant spirits. at every house the women dance and sing, clashing castanets or cymbals of brass and jingling bunches of little brass bells in both hands. when the performance has been repeated at every house in the village, the procession defiles down to the river, and all the evil spirits, which the performers have chased from the houses, follow them to the edge of the water. there a raft has been made ready and moored to the bank. it contains offerings of food, cloth, cooking-pots, and swords; and the deck is crowded with figures of men, women, animals, and birds, all made out of the leaves of the sago palm. the evil spirits now embark on the raft, and when they are all aboard, it is pushed off and allowed to float down with the current, carrying the demons with it. should the raft run aground near the village, it is shoved off with all speed, lest the invisible passengers should seize the opportunity of landing and returning to the village. finally, the sufferings of the little pig, whose squeals served to decoy the demons from their lurking-places, are terminated by death, for it is killed and its carcase thrown away. every year, at the beginning of the dry season, the nicobar islanders carry the model of a ship through their villages. the devils are chased out of the huts, and driven on board the little ship, which is then launched and suffered to sail away with the wind. the ceremony has been described by a catechist, who witnessed it at car nicobar in july . for three days the people were busy preparing two very large floating cars, shaped like canoes, fitted with sails, and loaded with certain leaves, which possessed the valuable property of expelling devils. while the young people were thus engaged, the exorcists and the elders sat in a house singing songs by turns; but often they would come forth, pace the beach armed with rods, and forbid the devil to enter the village. the fourth day of the solemnity bore a name which means "expelling the devil by sails." in the evening all the villagers assembled, the women bringing baskets of ashes and bunches of devil-expelling leaves. these leaves were then distributed to everybody, old and young. when all was ready, a band of robust men, attended by a guard of exorcists, carried one of the cars down to the sea on the right side of the village graveyard, and set it floating in the water. as soon as they had returned, another band of men carried the other car to the beach and floated it similarly in the sea to the left of the graveyard. the demon-laden barks being now launched, the women threw ashes from the shore, and the whole crowd shouted, saying, "fly away, devil, fly away, never come again!" the wind and the tide being favourable, the canoes sailed quickly away; and that night all the people feasted together with great joy, because the devil had departed in the direction of chowra. a similar expulsion of devils takes place once a year in other nicobar villages; but the ceremonies are held at different times in different places. amongst many of the aboriginal tribes of china, a great festival is celebrated in the third month of every year. it is held by way of a general rejoicing over what the people believe to be a total annihilation of the ills of the past twelve months. the destruction is supposed to be effected in the following way. a large earthenware jar filled with gunpowder, stones, and bits of iron is buried in the earth. a train of gunpowder, communicating with the jar, is then laid; and a match being applied, the jar and its contents are blown up. the stones and bits of iron represent the ills and disasters of the past year, and the dispersion of them by the explosion is believed to remove the ills and disasters themselves. the festival is attended with much revelling and drunkenness. at old calabar on the coast of guinea, the devils and ghosts are, or used to be, publicly expelled once in two years. among the spirits thus driven from their haunts are the souls of all the people who died since the last lustration of the town. about three weeks or a month before the expulsion, which according to one account takes place in the month of november, rude effigies representing men and animals, such as crocodiles, leopards, elephants, bullocks, and birds, are made of wicker-work or wood, and being hung with strips of cloth and bedizened with gew-gaws, are set before the door of every house. about three o'clock in the morning of the day appointed for the ceremony the whole population turns out into the streets, and proceeds with a deafening uproar and in a state of the wildest excitement to drive all lurking devils and ghosts into the effigies, in order that they may be banished with them from the abodes of men. for this purpose bands of people roam through the streets knocking on doors, firing guns, beating drums, blowing on horns, ringing bells, clattering pots and pans, shouting and hallooing with might and main, in short making all the noise it is possible for them to raise. the hubbub goes on till the approach of dawn, when it gradually subsides and ceases altogether at sunrise. by this time the houses have been thoroughly swept, and all the frightened spirits are supposed to have huddled into the effigies or their fluttering drapery. in these wicker figures are also deposited the sweepings of the houses and the ashes of yesterday's fires. then the demon-laden images are hastily snatched up, carried in tumultuous procession down to the brink of the river, and thrown into the water to the tuck of drums. the ebb-tide bears them away seaward, and thus the town is swept clean of ghosts and devils for another two years. similar annual expulsions of embodied evils are not unknown in europe. on the evening of easter sunday the gypsies of southern europe take a wooden vessel like a band-box, which rests cradle-wise on two cross pieces of wood. in this they place herbs and simples, together with the dried carcase of a snake, or lizard, which every person present must first have touched with his fingers. the vessel is then wrapt in white and red wool, carried by the oldest man from tent to tent, and finally thrown into running water, not, however, before every member of the band has spat into it once, and the sorceress has uttered some spells over it. they believe that by performing this ceremony they dispel all the illnesses that would otherwise have afflicted them in the course of the year; and that if any one finds the vessel and opens it out of curiosity, he and his will be visited by all the maladies which the others have escaped. the scapegoat by means of which the accumulated ills of a whole year are publicly expelled is sometimes an animal. for example, among the garos of assam, "besides the sacrifices for individual cases of illness, there are certain ceremonies which are observed once a year by a whole community or village, and are intended to safeguard its members from dangers of the forest, and from sickness and mishap during the coming twelve months. the principal of these is the asongtata ceremony. close to the outskirts of every big village a number of stones may be noticed stuck into the ground, apparently without order or method. these are known by the name of _asong,_ and on them is offered the sacrifice which the asongtata demands. the sacrifice of a goat takes place, and a month later, that of a _langur_ (_entellus_ monkey) or a bamboo-rat is considered necessary. the animal chosen has a rope fastened round its neck and is led by two men, one on each side of it, to every house in the village. it is taken inside each house in turn, the assembled villagers, meanwhile, beating the walls from the outside, to frighten and drive out any evil spirits which may have taken up their residence within. the round of the village having been made in this manner, the monkey or rat is led to the outskirts of the village, killed by a blow of a _dao,_ which disembowels it, and then crucified on bamboos set up in the ground. round the crucified animal long, sharp bamboo stakes are placed, which form _chevaux de frise_ round about it. these commemorate the days when such defences surrounded the villages on all sides to keep off human enemies, and they are now a symbol to ward off sickness and dangers to life from the wild animals of the forest. the _langur_ required for the purpose is hunted down some days before, but should it be found impossible to catch one, a brown monkey may take its place; a hulock may not be used." here the crucified ape or rat is the public scapegoat, which by its vicarious sufferings and death relieves the people from all sickness and mishap in the coming year. again, on one day of the year the bhotiyas of juhar, in the western himalayas, take a dog, intoxicate him with spirits and bhang or hemp, and having fed him with sweetmeats, lead him round the village and let him loose. they then chase and kill him with sticks and stones, and believe that, when they have done so, no disease or misfortune will visit the village during the year. in some parts of breadalbane it was formerly the custom on new year's day to take a dog to the door, give him a bit of bread, and drive him out, saying, "get away, you dog! whatever death of men or loss of cattle would happen in this house to the end of the present year, may it all light on your head!" on the day of atonement, which was the tenth day of the seventh month, the jewish high-priest laid both his hands on the head of a live goat, confessed over it all the iniquities of the children of israel, and, having thereby transferred the sins of the people to the beast, sent it away into the wilderness. the scapegoat upon whom the sins of the people are periodically laid, may also be a human being. at onitsha, on the niger, two human beings used to be annually sacrificed to take away the sins of the land. the victims were purchased by public subscription. all persons who, during the past year, had fallen into gross sins, such as incendiarism, theft, adultery, witchcraft, and so forth, were expected to contribute _ngugas,_ or a little over £ . the money thus collected was taken into the interior of the country and expended in the purchase of two sickly persons "to be offered as a sacrifice for all these abominable crimes--one for the land and one for the river." a man from a neighbouring town was hired to put them to death. on the twenty-seventh of february the rev. j. c. taylor witnessed the sacrifice of one of these victims. the sufferer was a woman, about nineteen or twenty years of age. they dragged her alive along the ground, face downwards, from the king's house to the river, a distance of two miles, the crowds who accompanied her crying, "wickedness! wickedness!" the intention was "to take away the iniquities of the land. the body was dragged along in a merciless manner, as if the weight of all their wickedness was thus carried away." similar customs are said to be still secretly practised every year by many tribes in the delta of the niger in spite of the vigilance of the british government. among the yoruba negroes of west africa "the human victim chosen for sacrifice, and who may be either a freeborn or a slave, a person of noble or wealthy parentage, or one of humble birth, is, after he has been chosen and marked out for the purpose, called an _oluwo._ he is always well fed and nourished and supplied with whatever he should desire during the period of his confinement. when the occasion arrives for him to be sacrificed and offered up, he is commonly led about and paraded through the streets of the town or city of the sovereign who would sacrifice him for the well-being of his government and of every family and individual under it, in order that he might carry off the sin, guilt, misfortune and death of all without exception. ashes and chalk would be employed to hide his identity by the one being freely thrown over his head, and his face painted with the latter, whilst individuals would often rush out of their houses to lay their hands upon him that they might thus transfer to him their sin, guilt, trouble, and death." this parade over, he is taken to an inner sanctuary and beheaded. his last words or dying groans are the signal for an outburst of joy among the people assembled outside, who believe that the sacrifice has been accepted and the divine wrath appeased. in siam it used to be the custom on one day of the year to single out a woman broken down by debauchery, and carry her on a litter through all the streets to the music of drums and hautboys. the mob insulted her and pelted her with dirt; and after having carried her through the whole city, they threw her on a dunghill or a hedge of thorns outside the ramparts, forbidding her ever to enter the walls again. they believed that the woman thus drew upon herself all the malign influences of the air and of evil spirits. the bataks of sumatra offer either a red horse or a buffalo as a public sacrifice to purify the land and obtain the favour of the gods. formerly, it is said, a man was bound to the same stake as the buffalo, and when they killed the animal, the man was driven away; no one might receive him, converse with him, or give him food. doubtless he was supposed to carry away the sins and misfortunes of the people. sometimes the scapegoat is a divine animal. the people of malabar share the hindoo reverence for the cow, to kill and eat which "they esteem to be a crime as heinous as homicide or wilful murder." nevertheless the "bramans transfer the sins of the people into one or more cows, which are then carry'd away, both the cows and the sins wherewith these beasts are charged, to what place the braman shall appoint." when the ancient egyptians sacrificed a bull, they invoked upon its head all the evils that might otherwise befall themselves and the land of egypt, and thereupon they either sold the bull's head to the greeks or cast it into the river. now, it cannot be said that in the times known to us the egyptians worshipped bulls in general, for they seem to have commonly killed and eaten them. but a good many circumstances point to the conclusion that originally all cattle, bulls as well as cows, were held sacred by the egyptians. for not only were all cows esteemed holy by them and never sacrificed, but even bulls might not be sacrificed unless they had certain natural marks; a priest examined every bull before it was sacrificed; if it had the proper marks, he put his seal on the animal in token that it might be sacrificed; and if a man sacrificed a bull which had not been sealed, he was put to death. moreover, the worship of the black bulls apis and mnevis, especially the former, played an important part in egyptian religion; all bulls that died a natural death were carefully buried in the suburbs of the cities, and their bones were afterwards collected from all parts of egypt and interred in a single spot; and at the sacrifice of a bull in the great rites of isis all the worshippers beat their breasts and mourned. on the whole, then, we are perhaps entitled to infer that bulls were originally, as cows were always, esteemed sacred by the egyptians, and that the slain bull upon whose head they laid the misfortunes of the people was once a divine scapegoat. it seems not improbable that the lamb annually slain by the madis of central africa is a divine scapegoat, and the same supposition may partly explain the zuni sacrifice of the turtle. lastly, the scapegoat may be a divine man. thus, in november the gonds of india worship ghansyam deo, the protector of the crops, and at the festival the god himself is said to descend on the head of one of the worshippers, who is suddenly seized with a kind of fit and, after staggering about, rushes off into the jungle, where it is believed that, if left to himself, he would die mad. however, they bring him back, but he does not recover his senses for one or two days. the people think that one man is thus singled out as a scapegoat for the sins of the rest of the village. in the temple of the moon the albanians of the eastern caucasus kept a number of sacred slaves, of whom many were inspired and prophesied. when one of these men exhibited more than usual symptoms of inspiration or insanity, and wandered solitary up and down the woods, like the gond in the jungle, the high priest had him bound with a sacred chain and maintained him in luxury for a year. at the end of the year he was anointed with unguents and led forth to be sacrificed. a man whose business it was to slay these human victims and to whom practice had given dexterity, advanced from the crowd and thrust a sacred spear into the victim's side, piercing his heart. from the manner in which the slain man fell, omens were drawn as to the welfare of the commonwealth. then the body was carried to a certain spot where all the people stood upon it as a purificatory ceremony. this last circumstance clearly indicates that the sins of the people were transferred to the victim, just as the jewish priest transferred the sins of the people to the scapegoat by laying his hands on the animal's head; and since the man was believed to be possessed by the divine spirit, we have here an undoubted example of a man-god slain to take away the sins and misfortunes of the people. in tibet the ceremony of the scapegoat presents some remarkable features. the tibetan new year begins with the new moon which appears about the fifteenth of february. for twenty-three days afterwards the government of lhasa, the capital, is taken out of the hands of the ordinary rulers and entrusted to the monk of the debang monastery who offers to pay the highest sum for the privilege. the successful bidder is called the jalno, and he announces his accession to power in person, going through the streets of lhasa with a silver stick in his hand. monks from all the neighbouring monasteries and temples assemble to pay him homage. the jalno exercises his authority in the most arbitrary manner for his own benefit, as all the fines which he exacts are his by purchase. the profit he makes is about ten times the amount of the purchase money. his men go about the streets in order to discover any conduct on the part of the inhabitants that can be found fault with. every house in lhasa is taxed at this time, and the slightest offence is punished with unsparing rigour by fines. this severity of the jalno drives all working classes out of the city till the twenty-three days are over. but if the laity go out, the clergy come in. all the buddhist monasteries of the country for miles round about open their gates and disgorge their inmates. all the roads that lead down into lhasa from the neighbouring mountains are full of monks hurrying to the capital, some on foot, some on horseback, some riding asses or lowing oxen, all carrying their prayer-books and culinary utensils. in such multitudes do they come that the streets and squares of the city are encumbered with their swarms, and incarnadined with their red cloaks. the disorder and confusion are indescribable. bands of the holy men traverse the streets chanting prayers, or uttering wild cries. they meet, they jostle, they quarrel, they fight; bloody noses, black eyes, and broken heads are freely given and received. all day long, too, from before the peep of dawn till after darkness has fallen, these red-cloaked monks hold services in the dim incense-laden air of the great machindranath temple, the cathedral of lhasa; and thither they crowd thrice a day to receive their doles of tea and soup and money. the cathedral is a vast building, standing in the centre of the city, and surrounded by bazaars and shops. the idols in it are richly inlaid with gold and precious stones. twenty-four days after the jalno has ceased to have authority, he assumes it again, and for ten days acts in the same arbitrary manner as before. on the first of the ten days the priests again assemble at the cathedral, pray to the gods to prevent sickness and other evils among the people, "and, as a peace-offering, sacrifice one man. the man is not killed purposely, but the ceremony he undergoes often proves fatal. grain is thrown against his head, and his face is painted half white, half black." thus grotesquely disguised, and carrying a coat of skin on his arm, he is called the king of the years, and sits daily in the market-place, where he helps himself to whatever he likes and goes about shaking a black yak's tail over the people, who thus transfer their bad luck to him. on the tenth day, all the troops in lhasa march to the great temple and form in line before it. the king of the years is brought forth from the temple and receives small donations from the assembled multitude. he then ridicules the jalno, saying to him, "what we perceive through the five senses is no illusion. all you teach is untrue," and the like. the jalno, who represents the grand lama for the time being, contests these heretical opinions; the dispute waxes warm, and at last both agree to decide the questions at issue by a cast of the dice, the jalno offering to change places with the scapegoat should the throw be against him. if the king of the years wins, much evil is prognosticated; but if the jalno wins, there is great rejoicing, for it proves that his adversary has been accepted by the gods as a victim to bear all the sins of the people of lhasa. fortune, however, always favours the jalno, who throws sixes with unvarying success, while his opponent turns up only ones. nor is this so extraordinary as at first sight it might appear; for the jalno's dice are marked with nothing but sixes and his adversary's with nothing but ones. when he sees the finger of providence thus plainly pointed against him, the king of the years is terrified and flees away upon a white horse, with a white dog, a white bird, salt, and so forth, which have all been provided for him by the government. his face is still painted half white and half black, and he still wears his leathern coat. the whole populace pursues him, hooting, yelling, and firing blank shots in volleys after him. thus driven out of the city, he is detained for seven days in the great chamber of horrors at the samyas monastery, surrounded by monstrous and terrific images of devils and skins of huge serpents and wild beasts. thence he goes away into the mountains of chetang, where he has to remain an outcast for several months or a year in a narrow den. if he dies before the time is out, the people say it is an auspicious omen; but if he survives, he may return to lhasa and play the part of scapegoat over again the following year. this quaint ceremonial, still annually observed in the secluded capital of buddhism--the rome of asia--is interesting because it exhibits, in a clearly marked religious stratification, a series of divine redeemers themselves redeemed, of vicarious sacrifices vicariously atoned for, of gods undergoing a process of fossilisation, who, while they retain the privileges, have disburdened themselves of the pains and penalties of divinity. in the jalno we may without undue straining discern a successor of those temporary kings, those mortal gods, who purchase a short lease of power and glory at the price of their lives. that he is the temporary substitute of the grand lama is certain; that he is, or was once, liable to act as scapegoat for the people is made nearly certain by his offer to change places with the real scapegoat--the king of the years--if the arbitrament of the dice should go against him. it is true that the conditions under which the question is now put to the hazard have reduced the offer to an idle form. but such forms are no mere mushroom growths, springing up of themselves in a night. if they are now lifeless formalities, empty husks devoid of significance, we may be sure that they once had a life and a meaning; if at the present day they are blind alleys leading nowhere, we may be certain that in former days they were paths that led somewhere, if only to death. that death was the goal to which of old the tibetan scapegoat passed after his brief period of licence in the market-place, is a conjecture that has much to commend it. analogy suggests it; the blank shots fired after him, the statement that the ceremony often proves fatal, the belief that his death is a happy omen, all confirm it. we need not wonder then that the jalno, after paying so dear to act as deputy-deity for a few weeks, should have preferred to die by deputy rather than in his own person when his time was up. the painful but necessary duty was accordingly laid on some poor devil, some social outcast, some wretch with whom the world had gone hard, who readily agreed to throw away his life at the end of a few days if only he might have his fling in the meantime. for observe that while the time allowed to the original deputy--the jalno--was measured by weeks, the time allowed to the deputy's deputy was cut down to days, ten days according to one authority, seven days according to another. so short a rope was doubtless thought a long enough tether for so black or sickly a sheep; so few sands in the hour-glass, slipping so fast away, sufficed for one who had wasted so many precious years. hence in the jack-pudding who now masquerades with motley countenance in the market-place of lhasa, sweeping up misfortune with a black yak's tail, we may fairly see the substitute of a substitute, the vicar of a vicar, the proxy on whose back the heavy burden was laid when it had been lifted from nobler shoulders. but the clue, if we have followed it aright, does not stop at the jalno; it leads straight back to the pope of lhasa himself, the grand lama, of whom the jalno is merely the temporary vicar. the analogy of many customs in many lands points to the conclusion that, if this human divinity stoops to resign his ghostly power for a time into the hands of a substitute, it is, or rather was once, for no other reason than that the substitute might die in his stead. thus through the mist of ages unillumined by the lamp of history, the tragic figure of the pope of buddhism--god's vicar on earth for asia--looms dim and sad as the man-god who bore his people's sorrows, the good shepherd who laid down his life for the sheep. . on scapegoats in general the foregoing survey of the custom of publicly expelling the accumulated evils of a village or town or country suggests a few general observations. in the first place, it will not be disputed that what i have called the immediate and the mediate expulsions of evil are identical in intention; in other words, that whether the evils are conceived of as invisible or as embodied in a material form, is a circumstance entirely subordinate to the main object of the ceremony, which is simply to effect a total clearance of all the ills that have been infesting a people. if any link were wanting to connect the two kinds of expulsion, it would be furnished by such a practice as that of sending the evils away in a litter or a boat. for here, on the one hand, the evils are invisible and intangible; and, on the other hand, there is a visible and tangible vehicle to convey them away. and a scapegoat is nothing more than such a vehicle. in the second place, when a general clearance of evils is resorted to periodically, the interval between the celebrations of the ceremony is commonly a year, and the time of year when the ceremony takes place usually coincides with some well-marked change of season, such as the beginning or end of winter in the arctic and temperate zones, and the beginning or end of the rainy season in the tropics. the increased mortality which such climatic changes are apt to produce, especially amongst ill-fed, ill-clothed, and ill-housed savages, is set down by primitive man to the agency of demons, who must accordingly be expelled. hence, in the tropical regions of new britain and peru, the devils are or were driven out at the beginning of the rainy season; hence, on the dreary coasts of baffin land, they are banished at the approach of the bitter arctic winter. when a tribe has taken to husbandry, the time for the general expulsion of devils is naturally made to agree with one of the great epochs of the agricultural year, as sowing, or harvest; but, as these epochs themselves naturally coincide with changes of season, it does not follow that the transition from the hunting or pastoral to the agricultural life involves any alteration in the time of celebrating this great annual rite. some of the agricultural communities of india and the hindoo koosh, as we have seen, hold their general clearance of demons at harvest, others at sowing-time. but, at whatever season of the year it is held, the general expulsion of devils commonly marks the beginning of the new year. for, before entering on a new year, people are anxious to rid themselves of the troubles that have harassed them in the past; hence it comes about that in so many communities the beginning of the new year is inaugurated with a solemn and public banishment of evil spirits. in the third place, it is to be observed that this public and periodic expulsion of devils is commonly preceded or followed by a period of general license, during which the ordinary restraints of society are thrown aside, and all offences, short of the gravest, are allowed to pass unpunished. in guinea and tonquin the period of license precedes the public expulsion of demons; and the suspension of the ordinary government in lhasa previous to the expulsion of the scapegoat is perhaps a relic of a similar period of universal license. amongst the hos of india the period of license follows the expulsion of the devil. amongst the iroquois it hardly appears whether it preceded or followed the banishment of evils. in any case, the extraordinary relaxation of all ordinary rules of conduct on such occasions is doubtless to be explained by the general clearance of evils which precedes or follows it. on the one hand, when a general riddance of evil and absolution from all sin is in immediate prospect, men are encouraged to give the rein to their passions, trusting that the coming ceremony will wipe out the score which they are running up so fast. on the other hand, when the ceremony has just taken place, men's minds are freed from the oppressive sense, under which they generally labour, of an atmosphere surcharged with devils; and in the first revulsion of joy they overleap the limits commonly imposed by custom and morality. when the ceremony takes place at harvest-time, the elation of feeling which it excites is further stimulated by the state of physical wellbeing produced by an abundant supply of food. fourthly, the employment of a divine man or animal as a scapegoat is especially to be noted; indeed, we are here directly concerned with the custom of banishing evils only in so far as these evils are believed to be transferred to a god who is afterwards slain. it may be suspected that the custom of employing a divine man or animal as a public scapegoat is much more widely diffused than appears from the examples cited. for, as has already been pointed out, the custom of killing a god dates from so early a period of human history that in later ages, even when the custom continues to be practised, it is liable to be misinterpreted. the divine character of the animal or man is forgotten, and he comes to be regarded merely as an ordinary victim. this is especially likely to be the case when it is a divine man who is killed. for when a nation becomes civilised, if it does not drop human sacrifices altogether, it at least selects as victims only such wretches as would be put to death at any rate. thus the killing of a god may sometimes come to be confounded with the execution of a criminal. if we ask why a dying god should be chosen to take upon himself and carry away the sins and sorrows of the people, it may be suggested that in the practice of using the divinity as a scapegoat we have a combination of two customs which were at one time distinct and independent. on the one hand we have seen that it has been customary to kill the human or animal god in order to save his divine life from being weakened by the inroads of age. on the other hand we have seen that it has been customary to have a general expulsion of evils and sins once a year. now, if it occurred to people to combine these two customs, the result would be the employment of the dying god as a scapegoat. he was killed, not originally to take away sin, but to save the divine life from the degeneracy of old age; but, since he had to be killed at any rate, people may have thought that they might as well seize the opportunity to lay upon him the burden of their sufferings and sins, in order that he might bear it away with him to the unknown world beyond the grave. the use of the divinity as a scapegoat clears up the ambiguity which, as we saw, appears to hang about the european folk-custom of "carrying out death." grounds have been shown for believing that in this ceremony the so-called death was originally the spirit of vegetation, who was annually slain in spring, in order that he might come to life again with all the vigour of youth. but, as i pointed out, there are certain features in the ceremony which are not explicable on this hypothesis alone. such are the marks of joy with which the effigy of death is carried out to be buried or burnt, and the fear and abhorrence of it manifested by the bearers. but these features become at once intelligible if we suppose that the death was not merely the dying god of vegetation, but also a public scapegoat, upon whom were laid all the evils that had afflicted the people during the past year. joy on such an occasion is natural and appropriate; and if the dying god appears to be the object of that fear and abhorrence which are properly due not to himself, but to the sins and misfortunes with which he is laden, this arises merely from the difficulty of distinguishing, or at least of marking the distinction, between the bearer and the burden. when the burden is of a baleful character, the bearer of it will be feared and shunned just as much as if he were himself instinct with those dangerous properties of which, as it happens, he is only the vehicle. similarly we have seen that disease-laden and sin-laden boats are dreaded and shunned by east indian peoples. again, the view that in these popular customs the death is a scapegoat as well as a representative of the divine spirit of vegetation derives some support from the circumstance that its expulsion is always celebrated in spring and chiefly by slavonic peoples. for the slavonic year began in spring; and thus, in one of its aspects, the ceremony of "carrying out death" would be an example of the widespread custom of expelling the accumulated evils of the old year before entering on a new one. lviii. human scapegoats in classical antiquity . the human scapegoat in ancient rome we are now prepared to notice the use of the human scapegoat in classical antiquity. every year on the fourteenth of march a man clad in skins was led in procession through the streets of rome, beaten with long white rods, and driven out of the city. he was called mamurius veturius, that is, "the old mars," and as the ceremony took place on the day preceding the first full moon of the old roman year (which began on the first of march), the skin-clad man must have represented the mars of the past year, who was driven out at the beginning of a new one. now mars was originally not a god of war but of vegetation. for it was to mars that the roman husbandman prayed for the prosperity of his corn and his vines, his fruit-trees and his copses; it was to mars that the priestly college of the arval brothers, whose business it was to sacrifice for the growth of the crops, addressed their petitions almost exclusively; and it was to mars, as we saw, that a horse was sacrificed in october to secure an abundant harvest. moreover, it was to mars, under his title of "mars of the woods" (_mars silvanus_), that farmers offered sacrifice for the welfare of their cattle. we have already seen that cattle are commonly supposed to be under the special patronage of tree-gods. once more, the consecration of the vernal month of march to mars seems to point him out as the deity of the sprouting vegetation. thus the roman custom of expelling the old mars at the beginning of the new year in spring is identical with the slavonic custom of "carrying out death," if the view here taken of the latter custom is correct. the similarity of the roman and slavonic customs has been already remarked by scholars, who appear, however, to have taken mamurius veturius and the corresponding figures in the slavonic ceremonies to be representatives of the old year rather than of the old god of vegetation. it is possible that ceremonies of this kind may have come to be thus interpreted in later times even by the people who practised them. but the personification of a period of time is too abstract an idea to be primitive. however, in the roman, as in the slavonic, ceremony, the representative of the god appears to have been treated not only as a deity of vegetation but also as a scapegoat. his expulsion implies this; for there is no reason why the god of vegetation, as such, should be expelled the city. but it is otherwise if he is also a scapegoat; it then becomes necessary to drive him beyond the boundaries, that he may carry his sorrowful burden away to other lands. and, in fact, mamurius veturius appears to have been driven away to the land of the oscans, the enemies of rome. . the human scapegoat in ancient greece the ancient greeks were also familiar with the use of a human scapegoat. in plutarch's native town of chaeronea a ceremony of this kind was performed by the chief magistrate at the town hall, and by each householder at his own home. it was called the "expulsion of hunger." a slave was beaten with rods of the _agnus castus,_ and turned out of doors with the words, "out with hunger, and in with wealth and health." when plutarch held the office of chief magistrate of his native town he performed this ceremony at the town hall, and he has recorded the discussion to which the custom afterwards gave rise. but in civilised greece the custom of the scapegoat took darker forms than the innocent rite over which the amiable and pious plutarch presided. whenever marseilles, one of the busiest and most brilliant of greek colonies, was ravaged by a plague, a man of the poorer classes used to offer himself as a scapegoat. for a whole year he was maintained at the public expense, being fed on choice and pure food. at the expiry of the year he was dressed in sacred garments, decked with holy branches, and led through the whole city, while prayers were uttered that all the evils of the people might fall on his head. he was then cast out of the city or stoned to death by the people outside of the walls. the athenians regularly maintained a number of degraded and useless beings at the public expense; and when any calamity, such as plague, drought, or famine, befell the city, they sacrificed two of these outcast scapegoats. one of the victims was sacrificed for the men and the other for the women. the former wore round his neck a string of black, the latter a string of white figs. sometimes, it seems, the victim slain on behalf of the women was a woman. they were led about the city and then sacrificed, apparently by being stoned to death outside the city. but such sacrifices were not confined to extraordinary occasions of public calamity; it appears that every year, at the festival of the thargelia in may, two victims, one for the men and one for the women, were led out of athens and stoned to death. the city of abdera in thrace was publicly purified once a year, and one of the burghers, set apart for the purpose, was stoned to death as a scapegoat or vicarious sacrifice for the life of all the others; six days before his execution he was excommunicated, "in order that he alone might bear the sins of all the people." from the lover's leap, a white bluff at the southern end of their island, the leucadians used annually to hurl a criminal into the sea as a scapegoat. but to lighten his fall they fastened live birds and feathers to him, and a flotilla of small boats waited below to catch him and convey him beyond the boundary. probably these humane precautions were a mitigation of an earlier custom of flinging the scapegoat into the sea to drown. the leucadian ceremony took place at the time of a sacrifice to apollo, who had a temple or sanctuary on the spot. elsewhere it was customary to cast a young man every year into the sea, with the prayer, "be thou our offscouring." this ceremony was supposed to rid the people of the evils by which they were beset, or according to a somewhat different interpretation it redeemed them by paying the debt they owed to the sea-god. as practised by the greeks of asia minor in the sixth century before our era, the custom of the scapegoat was as follows. when a city suffered from plague, famine, or other public calamity, an ugly or deformed person was chosen to take upon himself all the evils which afflicted the community. he was brought to a suitable place, where dried figs, a barley loaf, and cheese were put into his hand. these he ate. then he was beaten seven times upon his genital organs with squills and branches of the wild fig and other wild trees, while the flutes played a particular tune. afterwards he was burned on a pyre built of the wood of forest trees; and his ashes were cast into the sea. a similar custom appears to have been annually celebrated by the asiatic greeks at the harvest festival of the thargelia. in the ritual just described the scourging of the victim with squills, branches of the wild fig, and so forth, cannot have been intended to aggravate his sufferings, otherwise any stick would have been good enough to beat him with. the true meaning of this part of the ceremony has been explained by w. mannhardt. he points out that the ancients attributed to squills a magical power of averting evil influences, and that accordingly they hung them up at the doors of their houses and made use of them in purificatory rites. hence the arcadian custom of whipping the image of pan with squills at a festival, or whenever the hunters returned empty-handed, must have been meant, not to punish the god, but to purify him from the harmful influences which were impeding him in the exercise of his divine functions as a god who should supply the hunter with game. similarly the object of beating the human scapegoat on the genital organs with squills and so on, must have been to release his reproductive energies from any restraint or spell under which they might be laid by demoniacal or other malignant agency; and as the thargelia at which he was annually sacrificed was an early harvest festival celebrated in may, we must recognise in him a representative of the creative and fertilising god of vegetation. the representative of the god was annually slain for the purpose i have indicated, that of maintaining the divine life in perpetual vigour, untainted by the weakness of age; and before he was put to death it was not unnatural to stimulate his reproductive powers in order that these might be transmitted in full activity to his successor, the new god or new embodiment of the old god, who was doubtless supposed immediately to take the place of the one slain. similar reasoning would lead to a similar treatment of the scapegoat on special occasions, such as drought or famine. if the crops did not answer to the expectation of the husbandman, this would be attributed to some failure in the generative powers of the god whose function it was to produce the fruits of the earth. it might be thought that he was under a spell or was growing old and feeble. accordingly he was slain in the person of his representative, with all the ceremonies already described, in order that, born young again, he might infuse his own youthful vigour into the stagnant energies of nature. on the same principle we can understand why mamurius veturius was beaten with rods, why the slave at the chaeronean ceremony was beaten with the _agnus castus_ (a tree to which magical properties were ascribed), why the effigy of death in some parts of europe is assailed with sticks and stones, and why at babylon the criminal who played the god scourged before he was crucified. the purpose of the scourging was not to intensify the agony of the divine sufferer, but on the contrary to dispel any malignant influences by which at the supreme moment he might conceivably be beset. thus far i have assumed that the human victims at the thargelia represented the spirits of vegetation in general, but it has been well remarked by mr. w. r. paton that these poor wretches seem to have masqueraded as the spirits of fig-trees in particular. he points out that the process of caprification, as it is called, that is, the artificial fertilisation of the cultivated fig-trees by hanging strings of wild figs among the boughs, takes place in greece and asia minor in june about a month after the date of the thargelia, and he suggests that the hanging of the black and white figs round the necks of the two human victims, one of whom represented the men and the other the women, may have been a direct imitation of the process of caprification designed, on the principle of imitative magic, to assist the fertilisation of the fig-trees. and since caprification is in fact a marriage of the male fig-tree with the female fig-tree, mr. paton further supposes that the loves of the trees may, on the same principle of imitative magic, have been simulated by a mock or even a real marriage between the two human victims, one of whom appears sometimes to have been a woman. on this view the practice of beating the human victims on their genitals with branches of wild fig-trees and with squills was a charm intended to stimulate the generative powers of the man and woman who for the time being personated the male and the female fig-trees respectively, and who by their union in marriage, whether real or pretended, were believed to help the trees to bear fruit. the interpretation which i have adopted of the custom of beating the human scapegoat with certain plants is supported by many analogies. thus among the kai of german new guinea, when a man wishes to make his banana shoots bear fruit quickly, he beats them with a stick cut from a banana-tree which has already borne fruit. here it is obvious that fruitfulness is believed to inhere in a stick cut from a fruitful tree and to be imparted by contact to the young banana plants. similarly in new caledonia a man will beat his taro plants lightly with a branch, saying as he does so, "i beat this taro that it may grow," after which he plants the branch in the ground at the end of the field. among the indians of brazil at the mouth of the amazon, when a man wishes to increase the size of his generative organ, he strikes it with the fruit of a white aquatic plant called _aninga,_ which grows luxuriantly on the banks of the river. the fruit, which is inedible, resembles a banana, and is clearly chosen for this purpose on account of its shape. the ceremony should be performed three days before or after the new moon. in the county of bekes, in hungary, barren women are fertilised by being struck with a stick which has first been used to separate pairing dogs. here a fertilising virtue is clearly supposed to be inherent in the stick and to be conveyed by contact to the women. the toradjas of central celebes think that the plant _dracaena terminalis_ has a strong soul, because when it is lopped, it soon grows up again. hence when a man is ill, his friends will sometimes beat him on the crown of the head with _dracaena_ leaves in order to strengthen his weak soul with the strong soul of the plant. these analogies, accordingly, support the interpretation which, following my predecessors w. mannhardt and mr. w. r. paton, i have given of the beating inflicted on the human victims at the greek harvest festival of the thargelia. that beating, being administered to the generative organs of the victims by fresh green plants and branches, is most naturally explained as a charm to increase the reproductive energies of the men or women either by communicating to them the fruitfulness of the plants and branches, or by ridding them of the maleficent influences; and this interpretation is confirmed by the observation that the two victims represented the two sexes, one of them standing for the men in general and the other for the women. the season of the year when the ceremony was performed, namely the time of the corn harvest, tallies well with the theory that the rite had an agricultural significance. further, that it was above all intended to fertilise the fig-trees is strongly suggested by the strings of black and white figs which were hung round the necks of the victims, as well as by the blows which were given their genital organs with the branches of a wild fig-tree; since this procedure closely resembles the procedure which ancient and modern husbandmen in greek lands have regularly resorted to for the purpose of actually fertilising their fig-trees. when we remember what an important part the artificial fertilisation of the date palm-tree appears to have played of old not only in the husbandry but in the religion of mesopotamia, there seems no reason to doubt that the artificial fertilisation of the fig-tree may in like manner have vindicated for itself a place in the solemn ritual of greek religion. if these considerations are just, we must apparently conclude that while the human victims at the thargelia certainly appear in later classical times to have figured chiefly as public scapegoats, who carried away with them the sins, misfortunes, and sorrows of the whole people, at an earlier time they may have been looked on as embodiments of vegetation, perhaps of the corn but particularly of the fig-trees; and that the beating which they received and the death which they died were intended primarily to brace and refresh the powers of vegetation then beginning to droop and languish under the torrid heat of the greek summer. the view here taken of the greek scapegoat, if it is correct, obviates an objection which might otherwise be brought against the main argument of this book. to the theory that the priest of aricia was slain as a representative of the spirit of the grove, it might have been objected that such a custom has no analogy in classical antiquity. but reasons have now been given for believing that the human being periodically and occasionally slain by the asiatic greeks was regularly treated as an embodiment of a divinity of vegetation. probably the persons whom the athenians kept to be sacrificed were similarly treated as divine. that they were social outcasts did not matter. on the primitive view a man is not chosen to be the mouth-piece or embodiment of a god on account of his high moral qualities or social rank. the divine afflatus descends equally on the good and the bad, the lofty and the lowly. if then the civilised greeks of asia and athens habitually sacrificed men whom they regarded as incarnate gods, there can be no inherent improbability in the supposition that at the dawn of history a similar custom was observed by the semibarbarous latins in the arician grove. but to clinch the argument, it is clearly desirable to prove that the custom of putting to death a human representative of a god was known and practised in ancient italy elsewhere than in the arician grove. this proof i now propose to adduce. . the roman saturnalia we have seen that many peoples have been used to observe an annual period of license, when the customary restraints of law and morality are thrown aside, when the whole population give themselves up to extravagant mirth and jollity, and when the darker passions find a vent which would never be allowed them in the more staid and sober course of ordinary life. such outbursts of the pent-up forces of human nature, too often degenerating into wild orgies of lust and crime, occur most commonly at the end of the year, and are frequently associated, as i have had occasion to point out, with one or other of the agricultural seasons, especially with the time of sowing or of harvest. now, of all these periods of license the one which is best known and which in modern language has given its name to the rest, is the saturnalia. this famous festival fell in december, the last month of the roman year, and was popularly supposed to commemorate the merry reign of saturn, the god of sowing and of husbandry, who lived on earth long ago as a righteous and beneficent king of italy, drew the rude and scattered dwellers on the mountains together, taught them to till the ground, gave them laws, and ruled in peace. his reign was the fabled golden age: the earth brought forth abundantly: no sound of war or discord troubled the happy world: no baleful love of lucre worked like poison in the blood of the industrious and contented peasantry. slavery and private property were alike unknown: all men had all things in common. at last the good god, the kindly king, vanished suddenly; but his memory was cherished to distant ages, shrines were reared in his honour, and many hills and high places in italy bore his name. yet the bright tradition of his reign was crossed by a dark shadow: his altars are said to have been stained with the blood of human victims, for whom a more merciful age afterwards substituted effigies. of this gloomy side of the god's religion there is little or no trace in the descriptions which ancient writers have left us of the saturnalia. feasting and revelry and all the mad pursuit of pleasure are the features that seem to have especially marked this carnival of antiquity, as it went on for seven days in the streets and public squares and houses of ancient rome from the seventeenth to the twenty-third of december. but no feature of the festival is more remarkable, nothing in it seems to have struck the ancients themselves more than the license granted to slaves at this time. the distinction between the free and the servile classes was temporarily abolished. the slave might rail at his master, intoxicate himself like his betters, sit down at table with them, and not even a word of reproof would be administered to him for conduct which at any other season might have been punished with stripes, imprisonment, or death. nay, more, masters actually changed places with their slaves and waited on them at table; and not till the serf had done eating and drinking was the board cleared and dinner set for his master. so far was this inversion of ranks carried, that each household became for a time a mimic republic in which the high offices of state were discharged by the slaves, who gave their orders and laid down the law as if they were indeed invested with all the dignity of the consulship, the praetorship, and the bench. like the pale reflection of power thus accorded to bondsmen at the saturnalia was the mock kingship for which freemen cast lots at the same season. the person on whom the lot fell enjoyed the title of king, and issued commands of a playful and ludicrous nature to his temporary subjects. one of them he might order to mix the wine, another to drink, another to sing, another to dance, another to speak in his own dispraise, another to carry a flute-girl on his back round the house. now, when we remember that the liberty allowed to slaves at this festive season was supposed to be an imitation of the state of society in saturn's time, and that in general the saturnalia passed for nothing more or less than a temporary revival or restoration of the reign of that merry monarch, we are tempted to surmise that the mock king who presided over the revels may have originally represented saturn himself. the conjecture is strongly confirmed, if not established, by a very curious and interesting account of the way in which the saturnalia was celebrated by the roman soldiers stationed on the danube in the reign of maximian and diocletian. the account is preserved in a narrative of the martyrdom of st. dasius, which was unearthed from a greek manuscript in the paris library, and published by professor franz cumont of ghent. two briefer descriptions of the event and of the custom are contained in manuscripts at milan and berlin; one of them had already seen the light in an obscure volume printed at urbino in , but its importance for the history of the roman religion, both ancient and modern, appears to have been overlooked until professor cumont drew the attention of scholars to all three narratives by publishing them together some years ago. according to these narratives, which have all the appearance of being authentic, and of which the longest is probably based on official documents, the roman soldiers at durostorum in lower moesia celebrated the saturnalia year by year in the following manner. thirty days before the festival they chose by lot from amongst themselves a young and handsome man, who was then clothed in royal attire to resemble saturn. thus arrayed and attended by a multitude of soldiers he went about in public with full license to indulge his passions and to taste of every pleasure, however base and shameful. but if his reign was merry, it was short and ended tragically; for when the thirty days were up and the festival of saturn had come, he cut his own throat on the altar of the god whom he personated. in the year a.d. the lot fell upon the christian soldier dasius, but he refused to play the part of the heathen god and soil his last days by debauchery. the threats and arguments of his commanding officer bassus failed to shake his constancy, and accordingly he was beheaded, as the christian martyrologist records with minute accuracy, at durostorum by the soldier john on friday the twentieth day of november, being the twenty-fourth day of the moon, at the fourth hour. since this narrative was published by professor cumont, its historical character, which had been doubted or denied, has received strong confirmation from an interesting discovery. in the crypt of the cathedral which crowns the promontory of ancona there is preserved, among other remarkable antiquities, a white marble sarcophagus bearing a greek inscription, in characters of the age of justinian, to the following effect: "here lies the holy martyr dasius, brought from durostorum." the sarcophagus was transferred to the crypt of the cathedral in from the church of san pellegrino, under the high altar of which, as we learn from a latin inscription let into the masonry, the martyr's bones still repose with those of two other saints. how long the sarcophagus was deposited in the church of san pellegrino, we do not know; but it is recorded to have been there in the year . we may suppose that the saint's relics were transferred for safety to ancona at some time in the troubled centuries which followed his martyrdom, when moesia was occupied and ravaged by successive hordes of barbarian invaders. at all events it appears certain from the independent and mutually confirmatory evidence of the martyrology and the monuments that dasius was no mythical saint, but a real man, who suffered death for his faith at durostorum in one of the early centuries of the christian era. finding the narrative of the nameless martyrologist thus established as to the principal fact recorded, namely, the martyrdom of st. dasius, we may reasonably accept his testimony as to the manner and cause of the martyrdom, all the more because his narrative is precise, circumstantial, and entirely free from the miraculous element. accordingly i conclude that the account which he gives of the celebration of the saturnalia among the roman soldiers is trustworthy. this account sets in a new and lurid light the office of the king of the saturnalia, the ancient lord of misrule, who presided over the winter revels at rome in the time of horace and tacitus. it seems to prove that his business had not always been that of a mere harlequin or merry-andrew whose only care was that the revelry should run high and the fun grow fast and furious, while the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth, while the streets swarmed with festive crowds, and through the clear frosty air, far away to the north, soracte showed his coronal of snow. when we compare this comic monarch of the gay, the civilised metropolis with his grim counterpart of the rude camp on the danube, and when we remember the long array of similar figures, ludicrous yet tragic, who in other ages and in other lands, wearing mock crowns and wrapped in sceptred palls, have played their little pranks for a few brief hours or days, then passed before their time to a violent death, we can hardly doubt that in the king of the saturnalia at rome, as he is depicted by classical writers, we see only a feeble emasculated copy of that original, whose strong features have been fortunately preserved for us by the obscure author of the _martyrdom of st. dasius._ in other words, the martyrologist's account of the saturnalia agrees so closely with the accounts of similar rites elsewhere which could not possibly have been known to him, that the substantial accuracy of his description may be regarded as established; and further, since the custom of putting a mock king to death as a representative of a god cannot have grown out of a practice of appointing him to preside over a holiday revel, whereas the reverse may very well have happened, we are justified in assuming that in an earlier and more barbarous age it was the universal practice in ancient italy, wherever the worship of saturn prevailed, to choose a man who played the part and enjoyed all the traditionary privileges of saturn for a season, and then died, whether by his own or another's hand, whether by the knife or the fire or on the gallows-tree, in the character of the good god who gave his life for the world. in rome itself and other great towns the growth of civilisation had probably mitigated this cruel custom long before the augustan age, and transformed it into the innocent shape it wears in the writings of the few classical writers who bestow a passing notice on the holiday king of the saturnalia. but in remoter districts the older and sterner practice may long have survived; and even if after the unification of italy the barbarous usage was suppressed by the roman government, the memory of it would be handed down by the peasants and would tend from time to time, as still happens with the lowest forms of superstition among ourselves, to lead to a recrudescence of the practice, especially among the rude soldiery on the outskirts of the empire over whom the once iron hand of rome was beginning to relax its grasp. the resemblance between the saturnalia of ancient and the carnival of modern italy has often been remarked; but in the light of all the facts that have come before us, we may well ask whether the resemblance does not amount to identity. we have seen that in italy, spain, and france, that is, in the countries where the influence of rome has been deepest and most lasting, a conspicuous feature of the carnival is a burlesque figure personifying the festive season, which after a short career of glory and dissipation is publicly shot, burnt, or otherwise destroyed, to the feigned grief or genuine delight of the populace. if the view here suggested of the carnival is correct, this grotesque personage is no other than a direct successor of the old king of the saturnalia, the master of the revels, the real man who personated saturn and, when the revels were over, suffered a real death in his assumed character. the king of the bean on twelfth night and the mediaeval bishop of fools, abbot of unreason, or lord of misrule are figures of the same sort and may perhaps have had a similar origin. whether that was so or not, we may conclude with a fair degree of probability that if the king of the wood at aricia lived and died as an incarnation of a sylvan deity, he had of old a parallel at rome in the men who, year by year, were slain in the character of king saturn, the god of the sown and sprouting seed. lix. killing the god in mexico by no people does the custom of sacrificing the human representative of a god appear to have been observed so commonly and with so much solemnity as by the aztecs of ancient mexico. with the ritual of these remarkable sacrifices we are well acquainted, for it has been fully described by the spaniards who conquered mexico in the sixteenth century, and whose curiosity was naturally excited by the discovery in this distant region of a barbarous and cruel religion which presented many curious points of analogy to the doctrine and ritual of their own church. "they took a captive," says the jesuit acosta, "such as they thought good; and afore they did sacrifice him unto their idols, they gave him the name of the idol, to whom he should be sacrificed, and apparelled him with the same ornaments like their idol, saying, that he did represent the same idol. and during the time that this representation lasted, which was for a year in some feasts, in others six months, and in others less, they reverenced and worshipped him in the same manner as the proper idol; and in the meantime he did eat, drink, and was merry. when he went through the streets, the people came forth to worship him, and every one brought him an alms, with children and sick folks, that he might cure them, and bless them, suffering him to do all things at his pleasure, only he was accompanied with ten or twelve men lest he should fly. and he (to the end he might be reverenced as he passed) sometimes sounded upon a small flute, that the people might prepare to worship him. the feast being come, and he grown fat, they killed him, opened him, and ate him, making a solemn sacrifice of him." this general description of the custom may now be illustrated by particular examples. thus at the festival called toxcatl, the greatest festival of the mexican year, a young man was annually sacrificed in the character of tezcatlipoca, "the god of gods," after having been maintained and worshipped as that great deity in person for a whole year. according to the old franciscan monk sahagun, our best authority on the aztec religion, the sacrifice of the human god fell at easter or a few days later, so that, if he is right, it would correspond in date as well as in character to the christian festival of the death and resurrection of the redeemer. more exactly he tells us that the sacrifice took place on the first day of the fifth aztec month, which according to him began on the twenty-third or twenty-seventh day of april. at this festival the great god died in the person of one human representative and came to life again in the person of another, who was destined to enjoy the fatal honour of divinity for a year and to perish, like all his predecessors, at the end of it. the young man singled out for this high dignity was carefully chosen from among the captives on the ground of his personal beauty. he had to be of unblemished body, slim as a reed and straight as a pillar, neither too tall nor too short. if through high living he grew too fat, he was obliged to reduce himself by drinking salt water. and in order that he might behave in his lofty station with becoming grace and dignity he was carefully trained to comport himself like a gentleman of the first quality, to speak correctly and elegantly, to play the flute, to smoke cigars and to snuff at flowers with a dandified air. he was honourably lodged in the temple, where the nobles waited on him and paid him homage, bringing him meat and serving him like a prince. the king himself saw to it that he was apparelled in gorgeous attire, "for already he esteemed him as a god." eagle down was gummed to his head and white cock's feathers were stuck in his hair, which drooped to his girdle. a wreath of flowers like roasted maize crowned his brows, and a garland of the same flowers passed over his shoulders and under his armpits. golden ornaments hung from his nose, golden armlets adorned his arms, golden bells jingled on his legs at every step he took; earrings of turquoise dangled from his ears, bracelets of turquoise bedecked his wrists; necklaces of shells encircled his neck and depended on his breast; he wore a mantle of network, and round his middle a rich waistcloth. when this bejewelled exquisite lounged through the streets playing on his flute, puffing at a cigar, and smelling at a nosegay, the people whom he met threw themselves on the earth before him and prayed to him with sighs and tears, taking up the dust in their hands and putting it in their mouths in token of the deepest humiliation and subjection. women came forth with children in their arms and presented them to him, saluting him as a god. for "he passed for our lord god; the people acknowledged him as the lord." all who thus worshipped him on his passage he saluted gravely and courteously. lest he should flee, he was everywhere attended by a guard of eight pages in the royal livery, four of them with shaven crowns like the palace-slaves, and four of them with the flowing locks of warriors; and if he contrived to escape, the captain of the guard had to take his place as the representative of the god and to die in his stead. twenty days before he was to die, his costume was changed, and four damsels delicately nurtured and bearing the names of four goddesses--the goddess of flowers, the goddess of the young maize, the goddess "our mother among the water," and the goddess of salt--were given him to be his brides, and with them he consorted. during the last five days divine honours were showered on the destined victim. the king remained in his palace while the whole court went after the human god. solemn banquets and dances followed each other in regular succession and at appointed places. on the last day the young man, attended by his wives and pages, embarked in a canoe covered with a royal canopy and was ferried across the lake to a spot where a little hill rose from the edge of the water. it was called the mountain of parting, because there his wives bade him a last farewell. then, accompanied only by his pages, he repaired to a small and lonely temple by the wayside. like the mexican temples in general, it was built in the form of a pyramid; and as the young man ascended the stairs he broke at every step one of the flutes on which he had played in the days of his glory. on reaching the summit he was seized and held down by the priests on his back upon a block of stone, while one of them cut open his breast, thrust his hand into the wound, and wrenching out his heart held it up in sacrifice to the sun. the body of the dead god was not, like the bodies of common victims, sent rolling down the steps of the temple, but was carried down to the foot, where the head was cut off and spitted on a pike. such was the regular end of the man who personated the greatest god of the mexican pantheon. the honour of living for a short time in the character of a god and dying a violent death in the same capacity was not restricted to men in mexico; women were allowed, or rather compelled, to enjoy the glory and to share the doom as representatives of goddesses. thus at a great festival in september, which was preceded by a strict fast of seven days, they sanctified a young slave girl of twelve or thirteen years, the prettiest they could find, to represent the maize goddess chicomecohuatl. they invested her with the ornaments of the goddess, putting a mitre on her head and maize-cobs round her neck and in her hands, and fastening a green feather upright on the crown of her head to imitate an ear of maize. this they did, we are told, in order to signify that the maize was almost ripe at the time of the festival, but because it was still tender they chose a girl of tender years to play the part of the maize goddess. the whole long day they led the poor child in all her finery, with the green plume nodding on her head, from house to house dancing merrily to cheer people after the dulness and privations of the fast. in the evening all the people assembled at the temple, the courts of which they lit up by a multitude of lanterns and candles. there they passed the night without sleeping, and at midnight, while the trumpets, flutes, and horns discoursed solemn music, a portable framework or palanquin was brought forth, bedecked with festoons of maize-cobs and peppers and filled with seeds of all sorts. this the bearers set down at the door of the chamber in which the wooden image of the goddess stood. now the chamber was adorned and wreathed, both outside and inside, with wreaths of maize-cobs, peppers, pumpkins, roses, and seeds of every kind, a wonder to behold; the whole floor was covered deep with these verdant offerings of the pious. when the music ceased, a solemn procession came forth of priests and dignitaries, with flaring lights and smoking censers, leading in their midst the girl who played the part of the goddess. then they made her mount the framework, where she stood upright on the maize and peppers and pumpkins with which it was strewed, her hands resting on two bannisters to keep her from falling. then the priests swung the smoking censers round her; the music struck up again, and while it played, a great dignitary of the temple suddenly stepped up to her with a razor in his hand and adroitly shore off the green feather she wore on her head, together with the hair in which it was fastened, snipping the lock off by the root. the feather and the hair he then presented to the wooden image of the goddess with great solemnity and elaborate ceremonies, weeping and giving her thanks for the fruits of the earth and the abundant crops which she had bestowed on the people that year; and as he wept and prayed, all the people, standing in the courts of the temple, wept and prayed with him. when that ceremony was over, the girl descended from the framework and was escorted to the place where she was to spend the rest of the night. but all the people kept watch in the courts of the temple by the light of torches till break of day. the morning being come, and the courts of the temple being still crowded by the multitude, who would have deemed it sacrilege to quit the precincts, the priests again brought forth the damsel attired in the costume of the goddess, with the mitre on her head and the cobs of maize about her neck. again she mounted the portable framework or palanquin and stood on it, supporting herself by her hands on the bannisters. then the elders of the temple lifted it on their shoulders, and while some swung burning censers and others played on instruments or sang, they carried it in procession through the great courtyard to the hall of the god huitzilopochtli and then back to the chamber, where stood the wooden image of the maize goddess, whom the girl personated. there they caused the damsel to descend from the palanquin and to stand on the heaps of corn and vegetables that had been spread in profusion on the floor of the sacred chamber. while she stood there all the elders and nobles came in a line, one behind the other, carrying saucers full of dry and clotted blood which they had drawn from their ears by way of penance during the seven days' fast. one by one they squatted on their haunches before her, which was the equivalent of falling on their knees with us, and scraping the crust of blood from the saucer cast it down before her as an offering in return for the benefits which she, as the embodiment of the maize goddess, had conferred upon them. when the men had thus humbly offered their blood to the human representative of the goddess, the women, forming a long line, did so likewise, each of them dropping on her hams before the girl and scraping her blood from the saucer. the ceremony lasted a long time, for great and small, young and old, all without exception had to pass before the incarnate deity and make their offering. when it was over, the people returned home with glad hearts to feast on flesh and viands of every sort as merrily, we are told, as good christians at easter partake of meat and other carnal mercies after the long abstinence of lent. and when they had eaten and drunk their fill and rested after the night watch, they returned quite refreshed to the temple to see the end of the festival. and the end of the festival was this. the multitude being assembled, the priests solemnly incensed the girl who personated the goddess; then they threw her on her back on the heap of corn and seeds, cut off her head, caught the gushing blood in a tub, and sprinkled the blood on the wooden image of the goddess, the walls of the chamber, and the offerings of corn, peppers, pumpkins, seeds, and vegetables which cumbered the floor. after that they flayed the headless trunk, and one of the priests made shift to squeeze himself into the bloody skin. having done so they clad him in all the robes which the girl had worn; they put the mitre on his head, the necklace of golden maize-cobs about his neck, the maize-cobs of feathers and gold in his hands; and thus arrayed they led him forth in public, all of them dancing to the tuck of drum, while he acted as fugleman, skipping and posturing at the head of the procession as briskly as he could be expected to do, incommoded as he was by the tight and clammy skin of the girl and by her clothes, which must have been much too small for a grown man. in the foregoing custom the identification of the young girl with the maize goddess appears to be complete. the golden maize-cobs which she wore round her neck, the artificial maize-cobs which she carried in her hands, the green feather which was stuck in her hair in imitation (we are told) of a green ear of maize, all set her forth as a personification of the corn-spirit; and we are expressly informed that she was specially chosen as a young girl to represent the young maize, which at the time of the festival had not yet fully ripened. further, her identification with the corn and the corn-goddess was clearly announced by making her stand on the heaps of maize and there receive the homage and blood-offerings of the whole people, who thereby returned her thanks for the benefits which in her character of a divinity she was supposed to have conferred upon them. once more, the practice of beheading her on a heap of corn and seeds and sprinkling her blood, not only on the image of the maize goddess, but on the piles of maize, peppers, pumpkins, seeds, and vegetables, can seemingly have had no other object but to quicken and strengthen the crops of corn and the fruits of the earth in general by infusing into their representatives the blood of the corn goddess herself. the analogy of this mexican sacrifice, the meaning of which appears to be indisputable, may be allowed to strengthen the interpretation which i have given of other human sacrifices offered for the crops. if the mexican girl, whose blood was sprinkled on the maize, indeed personated the maize goddess, it becomes more than ever probable that the girl whose blood the pawnees similarly sprinkled on the seed corn personated in like manner the female spirit of the corn; and so with the other human beings whom other races have slaughtered for the sake of promoting the growth of the crops. lastly, the concluding act of the sacred drama, in which the body of the dead maize goddess was flayed and her skin worn, together with all her sacred insignia, by a man who danced before the people in this grim attire, seems to be best explained on the hypothesis that it was intended to ensure that the divine death should be immediately followed by the divine resurrection. if that was so, we may infer with some degree of probability that the practice of killing a human representative of a deity has commonly, perhaps always, been regarded merely as a means of perpetuating the divine energies in the fulness of youthful vigour, untainted by the weakness and frailty of age, from which they must have suffered if the deity had been allowed to die a natural death. these mexican rites suffice to prove that human sacrifices of the sort i suppose to have prevailed at aricia were, as a matter of fact, regularly offered by a people whose level of culture was probably not inferior, if indeed it was not distinctly superior, to that occupied by the italian races at the early period to which the origin of the arician priesthood must be referred. the positive and indubitable evidence of the prevalence of such sacrifices in one part of the world may reasonably be allowed to strengthen the probability of their prevalence in places for which the evidence is less full and trustworthy. taken all together, the facts which we have passed in review seem to show that the custom of killing men whom their worshippers regard as divine has prevailed in many parts of the world. lx. between heaven and earth . not to touch the earth at the outset of this book two questions were proposed for answer: why had the priest of aricia to slay his predecessor? and why, before doing so, had he to pluck the golden bough? of these two questions the first has now been answered. the priest of aricia, if i am right, was one of those sacred kings or human divinities on whose life the welfare of the community and even the course of nature in general are believed to be intimately dependent. it does not appear that the subjects or worshippers of such a spiritual potentate form to themselves any very clear notion of the exact relationship in which they stand to him; probably their ideas on the point are vague and fluctuating, and we should err if we attempted to define the relationship with logical precision. all that the people know, or rather imagine, is that somehow they themselves, their cattle, and their crops are mysteriously bound up with their divine king, so that according as he is well or ill the community is healthy or sickly, the flocks and herds thrive or languish with disease, and the fields yield an abundant or a scanty harvest. the worst evil which they can conceive of is the natural death of their ruler, whether he succumb to sickness or old age, for in the opinion of his followers such a death would entail the most disastrous consequences on themselves and their possessions; fatal epidemics would sweep away man and beast, the earth would refuse her increase, nay, the very frame of nature itself might be dissolved. to guard against these catastrophes it is necessary to put the king to death while he is still in the full bloom of his divine manhood, in order that his sacred life, transmitted in unabated force to his successor, may renew its youth, and thus by successive transmissions through a perpetual line of vigorous incarnations may remain eternally fresh and young, a pledge and security that men and animals shall in like manner renew their youth by a perpetual succession of generations, and that seedtime and harvest, and summer and winter, and rain and sunshine shall never fail. that, if my conjecture is right, was why the priest of aricia, the king of the wood at nemi, had regularly to perish by the sword of his successor. but we have still to ask, what was the golden bough? and why had each candidate for the arician priesthood to pluck it before he could slay the priest? these questions i will now try to answer. it will be well to begin by noticing two of those rules or taboos by which, as we have seen, the life of divine kings or priests is regulated. the first of the rules to which i would call the reader's attention is that the divine personage may not touch the ground with his foot. this rule was observed by the supreme pontiff of the zapotecs in mexico; he profaned his sanctity if he so much as touched the ground with his foot. montezuma, emperor of mexico, never set foot on the ground; he was always carried on the shoulders of noblemen, and if he lighted anywhere they laid rich tapestry for him to walk upon. for the mikado of japan to touch the ground with his foot was a shameful degradation; indeed, in the sixteenth century, it was enough to deprive him of his office. outside his palace he was carried on men's shoulders; within it he walked on exquisitely wrought mats. the king and queen of tahiti might not touch the ground anywhere but within their hereditary domains; for the ground on which they trod became sacred. in travelling from place to place they were carried on the shoulders of sacred men. they were always accompanied by several pairs of these sanctified attendants; and when it became necessary to change their bearers, the king and queen vaulted on to the shoulders of their new bearers without letting their feet touch the ground. it was an evil omen if the king of dosuma touched the ground, and he had to perform an expiatory ceremony. within his palace the king of persia walked on carpets on which no one else might tread; outside of it he was never seen on foot but only in a chariot or on horseback. in old days the king of siam never set foot upon the earth, but was carried on a throne of gold from place to place. formerly neither the kings of uganda, nor their mothers, nor their queens might walk on foot outside of the spacious enclosures in which they lived. whenever they went forth they were carried on the shoulders of men of the buffalo clan, several of whom accompanied any of these royal personages on a journey and took it in turn to bear the burden. the king sat astride the bearer's neck with a leg over each shoulder and his feet tucked under the bearer's arms. when one of these royal carriers grew tired he shot the king onto the shoulders of a second man without allowing the royal feet to touch the ground. in this way they went at a great pace and travelled long distances in a day, when the king was on a journey. the bearers had a special hut in the king's enclosure in order to be at hand the moment they were wanted. among the bakuba, or rather bushongo, a nation in the southern region of the congo, down to a few years ago persons of the royal blood were forbidden to touch the ground; they must sit on a hide, a chair, or the back of a slave, who crouched on hands and feet; their feet rested on the feet of others. when they travelled they were carried on the backs of men; but the king journeyed in a litter supported on shafts. among the ibo people about awka, in southern nigeria, the priest of the earth has to observe many taboos; for example, he may not see a corpse, and if he meets one on the road he must hide his eyes with his wristlet. he must abstain from many foods, such as eggs, birds of all sorts, mutton, dog, bush-buck, and so forth. he may neither wear nor touch a mask, and no masked man may enter his house. if a dog enters his house, it is killed and thrown out. as priest of the earth he may not sit on the bare ground, nor eat things that have fallen on the ground, nor may earth be thrown at him. according to ancient brahmanic ritual a king at his inauguration trod on a tiger's skin and a golden plate; he was shod with shoes of boar's skin, and so long as he lived thereafter he might not stand on the earth with his bare feet. but besides persons who are permanently sacred or tabooed and are therefore permanently forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, there are others who enjoy the character of sanctity or taboo only on certain occasions, and to whom accordingly the prohibition in question only applies at the definite seasons during which they exhale the odour of sanctity. thus among the kayans or bahaus of central borneo, while the priestesses are engaged in the performance of certain rites they may not step on the ground, and boards are laid for them to tread on. warriors, again, on the war-path are surrounded, so to say, by an atmosphere of taboo; hence some indians of north america might not sit on the bare ground the whole time they were out on a warlike expedition. in laos the hunting of elephants gives rise to many taboos; one of them is that the chief hunter may not touch the earth with his foot. accordingly, when he alights from his elephant, the others spread a carpet of leaves for him to step upon. apparently holiness, magical virtue, taboo, or whatever we may call that mysterious quality which is supposed to pervade sacred or tabooed persons, is conceived by the primitive philosopher as a physical substance or fluid, with which the sacred man is charged just as a leyden jar is charged with electricity; and exactly as the electricity in the jar can be discharged by contact with a good conductor, so the holiness or magical virtue in the man can be discharged and drained away by contact with the earth, which on this theory serves as an excellent conductor for the magical fluid. hence in order to preserve the charge from running to waste, the sacred or tabooed personage must be carefully prevented from touching the ground; in electrical language he must be insulated, if he is not to be emptied of the precious substance or fluid with which he, as a vial, is filled to the brim. and in many cases apparently the insulation of the tabooed person is recommended as a precaution not merely for his own sake but for the sake of others; for since the virtue of holiness or taboo is, so to say, a powerful explosive which the smallest touch may detonate, it is necessary in the interest of the general safety to keep it within narrow bounds, lest breaking out it should blast, blight, and destroy whatever it comes into contact with. . not to see the sun the second rule to be here noted is that the sun may not shine upon the divine person. this rule was observed both by the mikado and by the pontiff of the zapotecs. the latter "was looked upon as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold, nor the sun to shine upon." the japanese would not allow that the mikado should expose his sacred person to the open air, and the sun was not thought worthy to shine on his head. the indians of granada, in south america, "kept those who were to be rulers or commanders, whether men or women, locked up for several years when they were children, some of them seven years, and this so close that they were not to see the sun, for if they should happen to see it they forfeited their lordship, eating certain sorts of food appointed; and those who were their keepers at certain times went into their retreat or prison and scourged them severely." thus, for example, the heir to the throne of bogota, who was not the son but the sister's son of the king, had to undergo a rigorous training from his infancy; he lived in complete retirement in a temple, where he might not see the sun nor eat salt nor converse with a woman; he was surrounded by guards who observed his conduct and noted all his actions; if he broke a single one of the rules laid down for him, he was deemed infamous and forfeited all his rights to the throne. so, too, the heir to the kingdom of sogamoso, before succeeding to the crown, had to fast for seven years in the temple, being shut up in the dark and not allowed to see the sun or light. the prince who was to become inca of peru had to fast for a month without seeing light. . the seclusion of girls at puberty now it is remarkable that the foregoing two rules--not to touch the ground and not to see the sun--are observed either separately or conjointly by girls at puberty in many parts of the world. thus amongst the negroes of loango girls at puberty are confined in separate huts, and they may not touch the ground with any part of their bare body. among the zulus and kindred tribes of south africa, when the first signs of puberty show themselves "while a girl is walking, gathering wood, or working in the field, she runs to the river and hides herself among the reeds for the day, so as not to be seen by men. she covers her head carefully with her blanket that the sun may not shine on it and shrivel her up into a withered skeleton, as would result from exposure to the sun's beams. after dark she returns to her home and is secluded" in a hut for some time. with the awa-nkonde, a tribe at the northern end of lake nyassa, it is a rule that after her first menstruation a girl must be kept apart, with a few companions of her own sex, in a darkened house. the floor is covered with dry banana leaves, but no fire may be lit in the house, which is called "the house of the awasungu," that is, "of maidens who have no hearts." in new ireland girls are confined for four or five years in small cages, being kept in the dark and not allowed to set foot on the ground. the custom has been thus described by an eye-witness. "i heard from a teacher about some strange custom connected with some of the young girls here, so i asked the chief to take me to the house where they were. the house was about twenty-five feet in length, and stood in a reed and bamboo enclosure, across the entrance to which a bundle of dried grass was suspended to show that it was strictly '_tabu._' inside the house were three conical structures about seven or eight feet in height, and about ten or twelve feet in circumference at the bottom, and for about four feet from the ground, at which point they tapered off to a point at the top. these cages were made of the broad leaves of the pandanus-tree, sewn quite close together so that no light and little or no air could enter. on one side of each is an opening which is closed by a double door of plaited cocoa-nut tree and pandanus-tree leaves. about three feet from the ground there is a stage of bamboos which forms the floor. in each of these cages we were told there was a young woman confined, each of whom had to remain for at least four or five years, without ever being allowed to go outside the house. i could scarcely credit the story when i heard it; the whole thing seemed too horrible to be true. i spoke to the chief, and told him that i wished to see the inside of the cages, and also to see the girls that i might make them a present of a few beads. he told me that it was '_tabu,_' forbidden for any men but their own relations to look at them; but i suppose the promised beads acted as an inducement, and so he sent away for some old lady who had charge, and who alone is allowed to open the doors. while we were waiting we could hear the girls talking to the chief in a querulous way as if objecting to something or expressing their fears. the old woman came at length and certainly she did not seem a very pleasant jailor or guardian; nor did she seem to favour the request of the chief to allow us to see the girls, as she regarded us with anything but pleasant looks. however, she had to undo the door when the chief told her to do so, and then the girls peeped out at us, and, when told to do so, they held out their hands for the beads. i, however, purposely sat at some distance away and merely held out the beads to them, as i wished to draw them quite outside, that i might inspect the inside of the cages. this desire of mine gave rise to another difficulty, as these girls were not allowed to put their feet to the ground all the time they were confined in these places. however, they wished to get the beads, and so the old lady had to go outside and collect a lot of pieces of wood and bamboo, which she placed on the ground, and then going to one of the girls, she helped her down and held her hand as she stepped from one piece of wood to another until she came near enough to get the beads i held out to her. i then went to inspect the inside of the cage out of which she had come, but could scarely put my head inside of it, the atmosphere was so hot and stifling. it was clean and contained nothing but a few short lengths of bamboo for holding water. there was only room for the girl to sit or lie down in a crouched position on the bamboo platform, and when the doors are shut it must be nearly or quite dark inside. the girls are never allowed to come out except once a day to bathe in a dish or wooden bowl placed close to each cage. they say that they perspire profusely. they are placed in these stifling cages when quite young, and must remain there until they are young women, when they are taken out and have each a great marriage feast provided for them. one of them was about fourteen or fifteen years old, and the chief told us that she had been there for five years, but would soon be taken out now. the other two were about eight and ten years old, and they have to stay there for several years longer." in kabadi, a district of british new guinea, "daughters of chiefs, when they are about twelve or thirteen years of age, are kept indoors for two or three years, never being allowed, under any pretence, to descend from the house, and the house is so shaded that the sun cannot shine on them." among the yabim and bukaua, two neighbouring and kindred tribes on the coast of northern new guinea, a girl at puberty is secluded for some five or six weeks in an inner part of the house; but she may not sit on the floor, lest her uncleanliness should cleave to it, so a log of wood is placed for her to squat on. moreover, she may not touch the ground with her feet; hence if she is obliged to quit the house for a short time, she is muffled up in mats and walks on two halves of a coco-nut shell, which are fastened like sandals to her feet by creeping plants. among the ot danoms of borneo girls at the age of eight or ten years are shut up in a little room or cell of the house, and cut off from all intercourse with the world for a long time. the cell, like the rest of the house, is raised on piles above the ground, and is lit by a single small window opening on a lonely place, so that the girl is in almost total darkness. she may not leave the room on any pretext whatever, not even for the most necessary purposes. none of her family may see her all the time she is shut up, but a single slave woman is appointed to wait on her. during her lonely confinement, which often lasts seven years, the girl occupies herself in weaving mats or with other handiwork. her bodily growth is stunted by the long want of exercise, and when, on attaining womanhood, she is brought out, her complexion is pale and wax-like. she is now shown the sun, the earth, the water, the trees, and the flowers, as if she were newly born. then a great feast is made, a slave is killed, and the girl is smeared with his blood. in ceram girls at puberty were formerly shut up by themselves in a hut which was kept dark. in yap, one of the caroline islands, should a girl be overtaken by her first menstruation on the public road, she may not sit down on the earth, but must beg for a coco-nut shell to put under her. she is shut up for several days in a small hut at a distance from her parents' house, and afterwards she is bound to sleep for a hundred days in one of the special houses which are provided for the use of menstruous women. in the island of mabuiag, torres straits, when the signs of puberty appear on a girl, a circle of bushes is made in a dark corner of the house. here, decked with shoulder-belts, armlets, leglets just below the knees, and anklets, wearing a chaplet on her head, and shell ornaments in her ears, on her chest, and on her back, she squats in the midst of the bushes, which are piled so high round about her that only her head is visible. in this state of seclusion she must remain for three months. all this time the sun may not shine upon her, but at night she is allowed to slip out of the hut, and the bushes that hedge her in are then changed. she may not feed herself or handle food, but is fed by one or two old women, her maternal aunts, who are especially appointed to look after her. one of these women cooks food for her at a special fire in the forest. the girl is forbidden to eat turtle or turtle eggs during the season when the turtles are breeding; but no vegetable food is refused her. no man, not even her own father, may come into the house while her seclusion lasts; for if her father saw her at this time he would certainly have bad luck in his fishing, and would probably smash his canoe the very next time he went out in it. at the end of the three months she is carried down to a freshwater creek by her attendants, hanging on to their shoulders in such a way that her feet do not touch the ground, while the women of the tribe form a ring round her, and thus escort her to the beach. arrived at the shore, she is stripped of her ornaments, and the bearers stagger with her into the creek, where they immerse her, and all the other women join in splashing water over both the girl and her bearers. when they come out of the water one of the two attendants makes a heap of grass for her charge to squat upon. the other runs to the reef, catches a small crab, tears off its claws, and hastens back with them to the creek. here in the meantime a fire has been kindled, and the claws are roasted at it. the girl is then fed by her attendants with the roasted claws. after that she is freshly decorated, and the whole party marches back to the village in a single rank, the girl walking in the centre between her two old aunts, who hold her by the wrists. the husbands of her aunts now receive her and lead her into the house of one of them, where all partake of food, and the girl is allowed once more to feed herself in the usual manner. a dance follows, in which the girl takes a prominent part, dancing between the husbands of the two aunts who had charge of her in her retirement. among the yaraikanna tribe of cape york peninsula, in northern queensland, a girl at puberty is said to live by herself for a month or six weeks; no man may see her, though any woman may. she stays in a hut or shelter specially made for her, on the floor of which she lies supine. she may not see the sun, and towards sunset she must keep her eyes shut until the sun has gone down, otherwise it is thought that her nose will be diseased. during her seclusion she may eat nothing that lives in salt water, or a snake would kill her. an old woman waits upon her and supplies her with roots, yams, and water. some australian tribes are wont to bury their girls at such seasons more or less deeply in the ground, perhaps in order to hide them from the light of the sun. among the indians of california a girl at her first menstruation "was thought to be possessed of a particular degree of supernatural power, and this was not always regarded as entirely defiling or malevolent. often, however, there was a strong feeling of the power of evil inherent in her condition. not only was she secluded from her family and the community, but an attempt was made to seclude the world from her. one of the injunctions most strongly laid upon her was not to look about her. she kept her head bowed and was forbidden to see the world and the sun. some tribes covered her with a blanket. many of the customs in this connection resembled those of the north pacific coast most strongly, such as the prohibition to the girl to touch or scratch her head with her hand, a special implement being furnished her for the purpose. sometimes she could eat only when fed and in other cases fasted altogether." among the chinook indians who inhabited the coast of washington state, when a chief's daughter attained to puberty, she was hidden for five days from the view of the people; she might not look at them nor at the sky, nor might she pick berries. it was believed that if she were to look at the sky, the weather would be bad; that if she picked berries, it would rain; and that when she hung her towel of cedar-bark on a spruce-tree, the tree withered up at once. she went out of the house by a separate door and bathed in a creek far from the village. she fasted for some days, and for many days more she might not eat fresh food. amongst the aht or nootka indians of vancouver island, when girls reach puberty they are placed in a sort of gallery in the house "and are there surrounded completely with mats, so that neither the sun nor any fire can be seen. in this cage they remain for several days. water is given them, but no food. the longer a girl remains in this retirement the greater honour is it to the parents; but she is disgraced for life if it is known that she has seen fire or the sun during this initiatory ordeal." pictures of the mythical thunder-bird are painted on the screens behind which she hides. during her seclusion she may neither move nor lie down, but must always sit in a squatting posture. she may not touch her hair with her hands, but is allowed to scratch her head with a comb or a piece of bone provided for the purpose. to scratch her body is also forbidden, as it is believed that every scratch would leave a scar. for eight months after reaching maturity she may not eat any fresh food, particularly salmon; moreover, she must eat by herself, and use a cup and dish of her own. in the tsetsaut tribe of british columbia a girl at puberty wears a large hat of skin which comes down over her face and screens it from the sun. it is believed that if she were to expose her face to the sun or to the sky, rain would fall. the hat protects her face also against the fire, which ought not to strike her skin; to shield her hands she wears mittens. in her mouth she carries the tooth of an animal to prevent her own teeth from becoming hollow. for a whole year she may not see blood unless her face is blackened; otherwise she would grow blind. for two years she wears the hat and lives in a hut by herself, although she is allowed to see other people. at the end of two years a man takes the hat from her head and throws it away. in the bilqula or bella coola tribe of british columbia, when a girl attains puberty she must stay in the shed which serves as her bedroom, where she has a separate fireplace. she is not allowed to descend to the main part of the house, and may not sit by the fire of the family. for four days she is bound to remain motionless in a sitting posture. she fasts during the day, but is allowed a little food and drink very early in the morning. after the four days' seclusion she may leave her room, but only through a separate opening cut in the floor, for the houses are raised on piles. she may not yet come into the chief room. in leaving the house she wears a large hat which protects her face against the rays of the sun. it is believed that if the sun were to shine on her face her eyes would suffer. she may pick berries on the hills, but may not come near the river or sea for a whole year. were she to eat fresh salmon she would lose her senses, or her mouth would be changed into a long beak. amongst the tlingit (thlinkeet) or kolosh indians of alaska, when a girl showed signs of womanhood she used to be confined to a little hut or cage, which was completely blocked up with the exception of a small air-hole. in this dark and filthy abode she had to remain a year, without fire, exercise, or associates. only her mother and a female slave might supply her with nourishment. her food was put in at the little window; she had to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle. the time of her seclusion was afterwards reduced in some places to six or three months or even less. she had to wear a sort of hat with long flaps, that her gaze might not pollute the sky; for she was thought unfit for the sun to shine upon, and it was imagined that her look would destroy the luck of a hunter, fisher, or gambler, turn things to stone, and do other mischief. at the end of her confinement her old clothes were burnt, new ones were made, and a feast was given, at which a slit was cut in her under lip parallel to the mouth, and a piece of wood or shell was inserted to keep the aperture open. among the koniags, an esquimau people of alaska, a girl at puberty was placed in a small hut in which she had to remain on her hands and feet for six months; then the hut was enlarged a little so as to allow her to straighten her back, but in this posture she had to remain for six months more. all this time she was regarded as an unclean being with whom no one might hold intercourse. when symptoms of puberty appeared on a girl for the first time, the guaranis of southern brazil, on the borders of paraguay, used to sew her up in her hammock, leaving only a small opening in it to allow her to breathe. in this condition, wrapt up and shrouded like a corpse, she was kept for two or three days or so long as the symptoms lasted, and during this time she had to observe a most rigorous fast. after that she was entrusted to a matron, who cut the girl's hair and enjoined her to abstain most strictly from eating flesh of any kind until her hair should be grown long enough to hide her ears. in similar circumstances the chiriguanos of south-eastern bolivia hoisted the girl in her hammock to the roof, where she stayed for a month: the second month the hammock was let half-way down from the roof; and in the third month old women, armed with sticks, entered the hut and ran about striking everything they met, saying they were hunting the snake that had wounded the girl. among the matacos or mataguayos, an indian tribe of the gran chaco, a girl at puberty has to remain in seclusion for some time. she lies covered up with branches or other things in a corner of the hut, seeing no one and speaking to no one, and during this time she may eat neither flesh nor fish. meantime a man beats a drum in front of the house. among the yuracares, an indian tribe of eastern bolivia, when a girl perceives the signs of puberty, her father constructs a little hut of palm leaves near the house. in this cabin he shuts up his daughter so that she cannot see the light, and there she remains fasting rigorously for four days. amongst the macusis of british guiana, when a girl shows the first signs of puberty, she is hung in a hammock at the highest point of the hut. for the first few days she may not leave the hammock by day, but at night she must come down, light a fire, and spend the night beside it, else she would break out in sores on her neck, throat, and other parts of her body. so long as the symptoms are at their height, she must fast rigorously. when they have abated, she may come down and take up her abode in a little compartment that is made for her in the darkest corner of the hut. in the morning she may cook her food, but it must be at a separate fire and in a vessel of her own. after about ten days the magician comes and undoes the spell by muttering charms and breathing on her and on the more valuable of the things with which she has come in contact. the pots and drinking-vessels which she used are broken and the fragments buried. after her first bath, the girl must submit to be beaten by her mother with thin rods without uttering a cry. at the end of the second period she is again beaten, but not afterwards. she is now "clean," and can mix again with people. other indians of guiana, after keeping the girl in her hammock at the top of the hut for a month, expose her to certain large ants, whose bite is very painful. sometimes, in addition to being stung with ants, the sufferer has to fast day and night so long as she remains slung up on high in her hammock, so that when she comes down she is reduced to a skeleton. when a hindoo maiden reaches maturity she is kept in a dark room for four days, and is forbidden to see the sun. she is regarded as unclean; no one may touch her. her diet is restricted to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt. on the morning of the fifth day she goes to a neighbouring tank, accompanied by five women whose husbands are alive. smeared with turmeric water, they all bathe and return home, throwing away the mat and other things that were in the room. the rarhi brahmans of bengal compel a girl at puberty to live alone, and do not allow her to see the face of any male. for three days she remains shut up in a dark room, and has to undergo certain penances. fish, flesh, and sweetmeats are forbidden her; she must live upon rice and ghee. among the tiyans of malabar a girl is thought to be polluted for four days from the beginning of her first menstruation. during this time she must keep to the north side of the house, where she sleeps on a grass mat of a particular kind, in a room festooned with garlands of young coco-nut leaves. another girl keeps her company and sleeps with her, but she may not touch any other person, tree or plant. further, she may not see the sky, and woe betide her if she catches sight of a crow or a cat! her diet must be strictly vegetarian, without salt, tamarinds, or chillies. she is armed against evil spirits by a knife, which is placed on the mat or carried on her person. in cambodia a girl at puberty is put to bed under a mosquito curtain, where she should stay a hundred days. usually, however, four, five, ten, or twenty days are thought enough; and even this, in a hot climate and under the close meshes of the curtain, is sufficiently trying. according to another account, a cambodian maiden at puberty is said to "enter into the shade." during her retirement, which, according to the rank and position of her family, may last any time from a few days to several years, she has to observe a number of rules, such as not to be seen by a strange man, not to eat flesh or fish, and so on. she goes nowhere, not even to the pagoda. but this state of seclusion is discontinued during eclipses; at such times she goes forth and pays her devotions to the monster who is supposed to cause eclipses by catching the heavenly bodies between his teeth. this permission to break her rule of retirement and appear abroad during an eclipse seems to show how literally the injunction is interpreted which forbids maidens entering on womanhood to look upon the sun. a superstition so widely diffused as this might be expected to leave traces in legends and folk-tales. and it has done so. the old greek story of danae, who was confined by her father in a subterranean chamber or a brazen tower, but impregnated by zeus, who reached her in the shape of a shower of gold, perhaps belongs to this class of tales. it has its counterpart in the legend which the kirghiz of siberia tell of their ancestry. a certain khan had a fair daughter, whom he kept in a dark iron house, that no man might see her. an old woman tended her; and when the girl was grown to maidenhood she asked the old woman, "where do you go so often?" "my child," said the old dame, "there is a bright world. in that bright world your father and mother live, and all sorts of people live there. that is where i go." the maiden said, "good mother, i will tell nobody, but show me that bright world." so the old woman took the girl out of the iron house. but when she saw the bright world, the girl tottered and fainted; and the eye of god fell upon her, and she conceived. her angry father put her in a golden chest and sent her floating away (fairy gold can float in fairyland) over the wide sea. the shower of gold in the greek story, and the eye of god in the kirghiz legend, probably stand for sunlight and the sun. the idea that women may be impregnated by the sun is not uncommon in legends, and there are even traces of it in marriage customs. . reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty the motive for the restraints so commonly imposed on girls at puberty is the deeply engrained dread which primitive man universally entertains of menstruous blood. he fears it at all times but especially on its first appearance; hence the restrictions under which women lie at their first menstruation are usually more stringent than those which they have to observe at any subsequent recurrence of the mysterious flow. some evidence of the fear and of the customs based on it has been cited in an earlier part of this work; but as the terror, for it is nothing less, which the phenomenon periodically strikes into the mind of the savage has deeply influenced his life and institutions, it may be well to illustrate the subject with some further examples. thus in the encounter bay tribe of south australia there is, or used to be, a "superstition which obliges a woman to separate herself from the camp at the time of her monthly illness, when if a young man or boy should approach, she calls out, and he immediately makes a circuit to avoid her. if she is neglectful upon this point, she exposes herself to scolding, and sometimes to severe beating by her husband or nearest relation, because the boys are told from their infancy, that if they see the blood they will early become grey-headed, and their strength will fail prematurely." the dieri of central australia believe that if women at these times were to eat fish or bathe in a river, the fish would all die and the water would dry up. the arunta of the same region forbid menstruous women to gather the _irriakura_ bulbs, which form a staple article of diet for both men and women. they think that were a woman to break this rule, the supply of bulbs would fail. in some australian tribes the seclusion of menstruous women was even more rigid, and was enforced by severer penalties than a scolding or a beating. thus "there is a regulation relating to camps in the wakelbura tribe which forbids the women coming into the encampment by the same path as the men. any violation of this rule would in a large camp be punished with death. the reason for this is the dread with which they regard the menstrual period of women. during such a time, a woman is kept entirely away from the camp, half a mile at least. a woman in such a condition has boughs of some tree of her totem tied round her loins, and is constantly watched and guarded, for it is thought that should any male be so unfortunate as to see a woman in such a condition, he would die. if such a woman were to let herself be seen by a man, she would probably be put to death. when the woman has recovered, she is painted red and white, her head covered with feathers, and returns to the camp." in muralug, one of the torres straits islands, a menstruous woman may not eat anything that lives in the sea, else the natives believe that the fisheries would fail. in galela, to the west of new guinea, women at their monthly periods may not enter a tobacco-field, or the plants would be attacked by disease. the minangkabauers of sumatra are persuaded that if a woman in her unclean state were to go near a rice-field, the crop would be spoiled. the bushmen of south africa think that, by a glance of a girl's eye at the time when she ought to be kept in strict retirement, men become fixed in whatever positions they happen to occupy, with whatever they were holding in their hands, and are changed into trees that talk. cattle-rearing tribes of south africa hold that their cattle would die if the milk were drunk by a menstruous woman; and they fear the same disaster if a drop of her blood were to fall on the ground and the oxen were to pass over it. to prevent such a calamity women in general, not menstruous women only, are forbidden to enter the cattle enclosure; and more than that, they may not use the ordinary paths in entering the village or in passing from one hut to another. they are obliged to make circuitous tracks at the back of the huts in order to avoid the ground in the middle of the village where the cattle stand or lie down. these women's tracks may be seen at every caffre village. among the baganda, in like manner, no menstruous woman might drink milk or come into contact with any milk-vessel; and she might not touch anything that belonged to her husband, nor sit on his mat, nor cook his food. if she touched anything of his at such a time it was deemed equivalent to wishing him dead or to actually working magic for his destruction. were she to handle any article of his, he would surely fall ill; were she to touch his weapons, he would certainly be killed in the next battle. further, the baganda would not suffer a menstruous woman to visit a well; if she did so, they feared that the water would dry up, and that she herself would fall sick and die, unless she confessed her fault and the medicine-man made atonement for her. among the akikuyu of british east africa, if a new hut is built in a village and the wife chances to menstruate in it on the day she lights the first fire there, the hut must be broken down and demolished the very next day. the woman may on no account sleep a second night in it; there is a curse both on her and on it. according to the talmud, if a woman at the beginning of her period passes between two men, she thereby kills one of them. peasants of the lebanon think that menstruous women are the cause or many misfortunes; their shadow causes flowers to wither and trees to perish, it even arrests the movements of serpents; if one of them mounts a horse, the animal might die or at least be disabled for a long time. the guayquiries of the orinoco believe that when a woman has her courses, everything upon which she steps will die, and that if a man treads on the place where she has passed, his legs will immediately swell up. among the bri-bri indians of costa rica a married woman at her periods uses for plates only banana leaves, which, when she has done with them, she throws away in a sequestered spot; for should a cow find and eat them, the animal would waste away and perish. also she drinks only out of a special vessel, because any person who should afterwards drink out of the same vessel would infallibly pine away and die. among most tribes of north american indians the custom was that women in their courses retired from the camp or the village and lived during the time of their uncleanness in special huts or shelters which were appropriated to their use. there they dwelt apart, eating and sleeping by themselves, warming themselves at their own fires, and strictly abstaining from all communications with men, who shunned them just as if they were stricken with the plague. thus, to take examples, the creek and kindred indians of the united states compelled women at menstruation to live in separate huts at some distance from the village. there the women had to stay, at the risk of being surprised and cut off by enemies. it was thought "a most horrid and dangerous pollution" to go near the women at such times; and the danger extended to enemies who, if they slew the women, had to cleanse themselves from the pollution by means of certain sacred herbs and roots. the stseelis indians of british columbia imagined that if a menstruous woman were to step over a bundle of arrows, the arrows would thereby be rendered useless and might even cause the death of their owner; and similarly that if she passed in front of a hunter who carried a gun, the weapon would never shoot straight again. among the chippeways and other indians of the hudson bay territory, menstruous women are excluded from the camp, and take up their abode in huts of branches. they wear long hoods, which effectually conceal the head and breast. they may not touch the household furniture nor any objects used by men; for their touch "is supposed to defile them, so that their subsequent use would be followed by certain mischief or misfortune," such as disease or death. they must drink out of a swan's bone. they may not walk on the common paths nor cross the tracks of animals. they "are never permitted to walk on the ice of rivers or lakes, or near the part where the men are hunting beaver, or where a fishing-net is set, for fear of averting their success. they are also prohibited at those times from partaking of the head of any animal, and even from walking in or crossing the track where the head of a deer, moose, beaver, and many other animals have lately been carried, either on a sledge or on the back. to be guilty of a violation of this custom is considered as of the greatest importance; because they firmly believe that it would be a means of preventing the hunter from having an equal success in his future excursions." so the lapps forbid women at menstruation to walk on that part of the shore where the fishers are in the habit of setting out their fish; and the esquimaux of bering strait believe that if hunters were to come near women in their courses they would catch no game. for a like reason the carrier indians will not suffer a menstruous woman to cross the tracks of animals; if need be, she is carried over them. they think that if she waded in a stream or a lake, the fish would die. amongst the civilised nations of europe the superstitions which cluster round this mysterious aspect of woman's nature are not less extravagant than those which prevail among savages. in the oldest existing cyclopaedia--the _natural history_ of pliny--the list of dangers apprehended from menstruation is longer than any furnished by mere barbarians. according to pliny, the touch of a menstruous woman turned wine to vinegar, blighted crops, killed seedlings, blasted gardens, brought down the fruit from trees, dimmed mirrors, blunted razors, rusted iron and brass (especially at the waning of the moon), killed bees, or at least drove them from their hives, caused mares to miscarry, and so forth. similarly, in various parts of europe, it is still believed that if a woman in her courses enters a brewery the beer will turn sour; if she touches beer, wine, vinegar, or milk, it will go bad; if she makes jam, it will not keep; if she mounts a mare, it will miscarry; if she touches buds, they will wither; if she climbs a cherry tree, it will die. in brunswick people think that if a menstruous woman assists at the killing of a pig, the pork will putrefy. in the greek island of calymnos a woman at such times may not go to the well to draw water, nor cross a running stream, nor enter the sea. her presence in a boat is said to raise storms. thus the object of secluding women at menstruation is to neutralise the dangerous influences which are supposed to emanate from them at such times. that the danger is believed to be especially great at the first menstruation appears from the unusual precautions taken to isolate girls at this crisis. two of these precautions have been illustrated above, namely, the rules that the girls may not touch the ground nor see the sun. the general effect of these rules is to keep her suspended, so to say, between heaven and earth. whether enveloped in her hammock and slung up to the roof, as in south america, or raised above the ground in a dark and narrow cage, as in new ireland, she may be considered to be out of the way of doing mischief, since, being shut off both from the earth and from the sun, she can poison neither of these great sources of life by her deadly contagion. in short, she is rendered harmless by being, in electrical language, insulated. but the precautions thus taken to isolate or insulate the girl are dictated by a regard for her own safety as well as for the safety of others. for it is thought that she herself would suffer if she were to neglect the prescribed regimen. thus zulu girls, as we have seen, believe that they would shrivel to skeletons if the sun were to shine on them at puberty, and the macusis imagine that, if a young woman were to transgress the rules, she would suffer from sores on various parts of her body. in short, the girl is viewed as charged with a powerful force which, if not kept within bounds, may prove destructive both to herself and to all with whom she comes in contact. to repress this force within the limits necessary for the safety of all concerned is the object of the taboos in question. the same explanation applies to the observance of the same rules by divine kings and priests. the uncleanness, as it is called, of girls at puberty and the sanctity of holy men do not, to the primitive mind, differ materially from each other. they are only different manifestations of the same mysterious energy which, like energy in general, is in itself neither good nor bad, but becomes beneficent or maleficent according to its application. accordingly, if, like girls at puberty, divine personages may neither touch the ground nor see the sun, the reason is, on the one hand, a fear lest their divinity might, at contact with earth or heaven, discharge itself with fatal violence on either; and, on the other hand, an apprehension that the divine being, thus drained of his ethereal virtue, might thereby be incapacitated for the future performance of those magical functions, upon the proper discharge of which the safety of the people and even of the world is believed to hang. thus the rules in question fall under the head of the taboos which we examined in an earlier part of this book; they are intended to preserve the life of the divine person and with it the life of his subjects and worshippers. nowhere, it is thought, can his precious yet dangerous life be at once so safe and so harmless as when it is neither in heaven nor in earth, but, as far as possible, suspended between the two. lxi. the myth of balder a deity whose life might in a sense be said to be neither in heaven nor on earth but between the two, was the norse balder, the good and beautiful god, the son of the great god odin, and himself the wisest, mildest, best beloved of all the immortals. the story of his death, as it is told in the younger or prose _edda,_ runs thus. once on a time balder dreamed heavy dreams which seemed to forebode his death. thereupon the gods held a council and resolved to make him secure against every danger. so the goddess frigg took an oath from fire and water, iron and all metals, stones and earth, from trees, sicknesses and poisons, and from all four-footed beasts, birds, and creeping things, that they would not hurt balder. when this was done balder was deemed invulnerable; so the gods amused themselves by setting him in their midst, while some shot at him, others hewed at him, and others threw stones at him. but whatever they did, nothing could hurt him; and at this they were all glad. only loki, the mischief-maker, was displeased, and he went in the guise of an old woman to frigg, who told him that the weapons of the gods could not wound balder, since she had made them all swear not to hurt him. then loki asked, "have all things sworn to spare balder?" she answered, "east of walhalla grows a plant called mistletoe; it seemed to me too young to swear." so loki went and pulled the mistletoe and took it to the assembly of the gods. there he found the blind god hother standing at the outside of the circle. loki asked him, "why do you not shoot at balder?" hother answered, "because i do not see where he stands; besides i have no weapon." then said loki, "do like the rest and show balder honour, as they all do. i will show you where he stands, and do you shoot at him with this twig." hother took the mistletoe and threw it at balder, as loki directed him. the mistletoe struck balder and pierced him through and through, and he fell down dead. and that was the greatest misfortune that ever befell gods and men. for a while the gods stood speechless, then they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly. they took balder's body and brought it to the sea-shore. there stood balder's ship; it was called ringhorn, and was the hugest of all ships. the gods wished to launch the ship and to burn balder's body on it, but the ship would not stir. so they sent for a giantess called hyrrockin. she came riding on a wolf and gave the ship such a push that fire flashed from the rollers and all the earth shook. then balder's body was taken and placed on the funeral pile upon his ship. when his wife nanna saw that, her heart burst for sorrow and she died. so she was laid on the funeral pile with her husband, and fire was put to it. balder's horse, too, with all its trappings, was burned on the pile. whether he was a real or merely a mythical personage, balder was worshipped in norway. on one of the bays of the beautiful sogne fiord, which penetrates far into the depths of the solemn norwegian mountains, with their sombre pine-forests and their lofty cascades dissolving into spray before they reach the dark water of the fiord far below, balder had a great sanctuary. it was called balder's grove. a palisade enclosed the hallowed ground, and within it stood a spacious temple with the images of many gods, but none of them was worshipped with such devotion as balder. so great was the awe with which the heathen regarded the place that no man might harm another there, nor steal his cattle, nor defile himself with women. but women cared for the images of the gods in the temple; they warmed them at the fire, anointed them with oil, and dried them with cloths. whatever may be thought of an historical kernel underlying a mythical husk in the legend of balder, the details of the story suggest that it belongs to that class of myths which have been dramatised an ritual, or, to put it otherwise, which have been performed as magical ceremonies for the sake of producing those natural effects which they describe in figurative language. a myth is never so graphic and precise in its details as when it is, so to speak, the book of the words which are spoken and acted by the performers of the sacred rite. that the norse story of balder was a myth of this sort will become probable if we can prove that ceremonies resembling the incidents in the tale have been performed by norsemen and other european peoples. now the main incidents in the tale are two--first, the pulling of the mistletoe, and second, the death and burning of the god; and both of them may perhaps be found to have had their counterparts in yearly rites observed, whether separately or conjointly, by people in various parts of europe. these rites will be described and discussed in the following chapters. we shall begin with the annual festivals of fire and shall reserve the pulling of the mistletoe for consideration later on. lxii. the fire-festivals of europe . the fire-festivals in general all over europe the peasants have been accustomed from time immemorial to kindle bonfires on certain days of the year, and to dance round or leap over them. customs of this kind can be traced back on historical evidence to the middle ages, and their analogy to similar customs observed in antiquity goes with strong internal evidence to prove that their origin must be sought in a period long prior to the spread of christianity. indeed the earliest proof of their observance in northern europe is furnished by the attempts made by christian synods in the eighth century to put them down as heathenish rites. not uncommonly effigies are burned in these fires, or a pretence is made of burning a living person in them; and there are grounds for believing that anciently human beings were actually burned on these occasions. a brief view of the customs in question will bring out the traces of human sacrifice, and will serve at the same time to throw light on their meaning. the seasons of the year when these bonfires are most commonly lit are spring and midsummer; but in some places they are kindled also at the end of autumn or during the course of the winter, particularly on hallow e'en (the thirty-first of october), christmas day, and the eve of twelfth day. space forbids me to describe all these festivals at length; a few specimens must serve to illustrate their general character. we shall begin with the fire-festivals of spring, which usually fall on the first sunday of lent (_quadragesima_ or _invocavit_), easter eve, and may day. . the lenten fires the custom of kindling bonfires on the first sunday in lent has prevailed in belgium, the north of france, and many parts of germany. thus in the belgian ardennes for a week or a fortnight before the "day of the great fire," as it is called, children go about from farm to farm collecting fuel. at grand halleux any one who refuses their request is pursued next day by the children, who try to blacken his face with the ashes of the extinct fire. when the day has come, they cut down bushes, especially juniper and broom, and in the evening great bonfires blaze on all the heights. it is a common saying that seven bonfires should be seen if the village is to be safe from conflagrations. if the meuse happens to be frozen hard at the time, bonfires are lit also on the ice. at grand halleux they set up a pole called _makral,_ or "the witch," in the midst of the pile, and the fire is kindled by the man who was last married in the village. in the neighbourhood of morlanwelz a straw man is burnt in the fire. young people and children dance and sing round the bonfires, and leap over the embers to secure good crops or a happy marriage within the year, or as a means of guarding themselves against colic. in brabant on the same sunday, down to the beginning of the nineteenth century, women and men disguised in female attire used to go with burning torches to the fields, where they danced and sang comic songs for the purpose, as they alleged, of driving away "the wicked sower," who is mentioned in the gospel for the day. at pâturages, in the province of hainaut, down to about the custom was observed under the name of _escouvion_ or _scouvion._ every year on the first sunday of lent, which was called the day of the little scouvion, young folks and children used to run with lighted torches through the gardens and orchards. as they ran they cried at the pitch of their voices: "bear apples, bear pears, and cherries all black to scouvion!" at these words the torch-bearer whirled his blazing brand and hurled it among the branches of the apple-trees, the pear-trees, and the cherry-trees. the next sunday was called the day of the great scouvion, and the same race with lighted torches among the trees of the orchards was repeated in the afternoon till darkness fell. in the french department of the ardennes the whole village used to dance and sing around the bonfires which were lighted on the first sunday in lent. here, too, it was the person last married, sometimes a man and sometimes a woman, who put the match to the fire. the custom is still kept up very commonly in the district. cats used to be burnt in the fire or roasted to death by being held over it; and while they were burning the shepherds drove their flocks through the smoke and flames as a sure means of guarding them against sickness and witchcraft. in some communes it was believed that the livelier the dance round the fire, the better would be the crops that year. in the french province of franche-comté, to the west of the jura mountains, the first sunday of lent is known as the sunday of the firebrands (_brandons_), on account of the fires which it is customary to kindle on that day. on the saturday or the sunday the village lads harness themselves to a cart and drag it about the streets, stopping at the doors of the houses where there are girls and begging fora faggot. when they have got enough, they cart the fuel to a spot at some little distance from the village, pile it up, and set it on fire. all the people of the parish come out to see the bonfire. in some villages, when the bells have rung the angelus, the signal for the observance is given by cries of, "to the fire! to the fire!" lads, lasses, and children dance round the blaze, and when the flames have died down they vie with each other in leaping over the red embers. he or she who does so without singeing his or her garments will be married within the year. young folk also carry lighted torches about the streets or the fields, and when they pass an orchard they cry out, "more fruit than leaves!" down to recent years at laviron, in the department of doubs, it was the young married couples of the year who had charge of the bonfires. in the midst of the bonfire a pole was planted with a wooden figure of a cock fastened to the top. then there were races, and the winner received the cock as a prize. in auvergne fires are everywhere kindled on the evening of the first sunday in lent. every village, every hamlet, even every ward, every isolated farm has its bonfire or _figo,_ as it is called, which blazes up as the shades of night are falling. the fires may be seen flaring on the heights and in the plains; the people dance and sing round about them and leap through the flames. then they proceed to the ceremony of the _grannas-mias._ a _granno-mio_ is a torch of straw fastened to the top of a pole. when the pyre is half consumed, the bystanders kindle the torches at the expiring flames and carry them into the neighbouring orchards, fields, and gardens, wherever there are fruit-trees. as they march they sing at the top of their voices, "granno my friend, granno my father, granno my mother." then they pass the burning torches under the branches of every tree, singing. "_brando, brandounci tsaque brantso, in plan panei!_" that is, "firebrand burn; every branch a basketful!" in some villages the people also run across the sown fields and shake the ashes of the torches on the ground; also they put some of the ashes in the fowls' nests, in order that the hens may lay plenty of eggs throughout the year. when all these ceremonies have been performed, everybody goes home and feasts; the special dishes of the evening are fritters and pancakes. here the application of the fire to the fruit-trees, to the sown fields, and to the nests of the poultry is clearly a charm intended to ensure fertility; and the granno to whom the invocations are addressed, and who gives his name to the torches, may possibly be, as dr. pommerol suggests, no other than the ancient celtic god grannus, whom the romans identified with apollo, and whose worship is attested by inscriptions found not only in france but in scotland and on the danube. the custom of carrying lighted torches of straw (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilise them on the first sunday of lent seems to have been common in france, whether it was accompanied with the practice of kindling bonfires or not. thus in the province of picardy "on the first sunday of lent people carried torches through the fields, exorcising the field-mice, the darnel, and the smut. they imagined that they did much good to the gardens and caused the onions to grow large. children ran about the fields, torch in hand, to make the land more fertile." at verges, a village between the jura and the combe d'ain, the torches at this season were kindled on the top of a mountain, and the bearers went to every house in the village, demanding roasted peas and obliging all couples who had been married within the year to dance. in berry, a district of central france, it appears that bonfires are not lighted on this day, but when the sun has set the whole population of the villages, armed with blazing torches of straw, disperse over the country and scour the fields, the vineyards, and the orchards. seen from afar, the multitude of moving lights, twinkling in the darkness, appear like will-o'-the-wisps chasing each other across the plains, along the hillsides, and down the valleys. while the men wave their flambeaus about the branches of the fruit-trees, the women and children tie bands of wheaten-straw round the tree-trunks. the effect of the ceremony is supposed to be to avert the various plagues from which the fruits of the earth are apt to suffer; and the bands of straw fastened round the stems of the trees are believed to render them fruitful. in germany, austria, and switzerland at the same season similar customs have prevailed. thus in the eifel mountains, rhenish prussia, on the first sunday in lent young people used to collect straw and brushwood from house to house. these they carried to an eminence and piled up round a tall, slim beech-tree, to which a piece of wood was fastened at right angles to form a cross. the structure was known as the "hut" or "castle." fire was set to it and the young people marched round the blazing "castle" bareheaded, each carrying a lighted torch and praying aloud. sometimes a straw-man was burned in the "hut." people observed the direction in which the smoke blew from the fire. if it blew towards the corn-fields, it was a sign that the harvest would be abundant. on the same day, in some parts of the eifel, a great wheel was made of straw and dragged by three horses to the top of the hill. thither the village boys marched at nightfall, set fire to the wheel, and sent it rolling down the slope. at oberstattfeld the wheel had to be provided by the young man who was last married. about echternach in luxemburg the same ceremony is called "burning the witch." at voralberg in the tyrol, on the first sunday in lent, a slender young fir-tree is surrounded with a pile of straw and firewood. to the top of the tree is fastened a human figure called the "witch," made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder. at night the whole is set on fire and boys and girls dance round it, swinging torches and singing rhymes in which the words "corn in the winnowing-basket, the plough in the earth" may be distinguished. in swabia on the first sunday in lent a figure called the "witch" or the "old wife" or "winter's grandmother" is made up of clothes and fastened to a pole. this is stuck in the middle of a pile of wood, to which fire is applied. while the "witch" is burning, the young people throw blazing discs into the air. the discs are thin round pieces of wood, a few inches in diameter, with notched edges to imitate the rays of the sun or stars. they have a hole in the middle, by which they are attached to the end of a wand. before the disc is thrown it is set on fire, the wand is swung to and fro, and the impetus thus communicated to the disc is augmented by dashing the rod sharply against a sloping board. the burning disc is thus thrown off, and mounting high into the air, describes a long fiery curve before it reaches the ground. the charred embers of the burned "witch" and discs are taken home and planted in the flax-fields the same night, in the belief that they will keep vermin from the fields. in the rhön mountains, situated on the borders of hesse and bavaria, the people used to march to the top of a hill or eminence on the first sunday in lent. children and lads carried torches, brooms daubed with tar, and poles swathed in straw. a wheel, wrapt in combustibles, was kindled and rolled down the hill; and the young people rushed about the fields with their burning torches and brooms, till at last they flung them in a heap, and standing round them, struck up a hymn or a popular song. the object of running about the fields with the blazing torches was to "drive away the wicked sower." or it was done in honour of the virgin, that she might preserve the fruits of the earth throughout the year and bless them. in neighbouring villages of hesse, between the rhön and the vogel mountains, it is thought that wherever the burning wheels roll, the fields will be safe from hail and strom. in switzerland, also, it is or used to be customary to kindle bonfires on high places on the evening of the first sunday in lent, and the day is therefore popularly known as spark sunday. the custom prevailed, for example, throughout the canton of lucerne. boys went about from house to house begging for wood and straw, then piled the fuel on a conspicuous mountain or hill round about a pole, which bore a straw effigy called "the witch." at nightfall the pile was set on fire, and the young folks danced wildly round it, some of them cracking whips or ringing bells; and when the fire burned low enough, they leaped over it. this was called "burning the witch." in some parts of the canton also they used to wrap old wheels in straw and thorns, put a light to them, and send them rolling and blazing down hill. the more bonfires could be seen sparkling and flaring in the darkness, the more fruitful was the year expected to be; and the higher the dancers leaped beside or over the fire, the higher, it was thought, would grow the flax. in some districts it was the last married man or woman who must kindle the bonfire. it seems hardly possible to separate from these bonfires, kindled on the first sunday in lent, the fires in which, about the same season, the effigy called death is burned as part of the ceremony of "carrying out death." we have seen that at spachendorf, in austrian silesia, on the morning of rupert's day (shrove tuesday?), a straw-man, dressed in a fur coat and a fur cap, is laid in a hole outside the village and there burned, and that while it is blazing every one seeks to snatch a fragment of it, which he fastens to a branch of the highest tree in his garden or buries in his field, believing that this will make the crops to grow better. the ceremony is known as the "burying of death." even when the straw-man is not designated as death, the meaning of the observance is probably the same; for the name death, as i have tried to show, does not express the original intention of the ceremony. at cobern in the eifel mountains the lads make up a straw-man on shrove tuesday. the effigy is formally tried and accused of having perpetrated all the thefts that have been committed in the neighbourhood throughout the year. being condemned to death, the straw-man is led through the village, shot, and burned upon a pyre. they dance round the blazing pile, and the last bride must leap over it. in oldenburg on the evening of shrove tuesday people used to make long bundles of straw, which they set on fire, and then ran about the fields waving them, shrieking, and singing wild songs. finally they burned a straw-man on the field. in the district of düsseldorf the straw-man burned on shrove tuesday was made of an unthreshed sheaf of corn. on the first monday after the spring equinox the urchins of zurich drag a straw-man on a little cart through the streets, while at the same time the girls carry about a may-tree. when vespers ring, the straw-man is burned. in the district of aachen on ash wednesday, a man used to be encased in peas-straw and taken to an appointed place. here he slipped quietly out of his straw casing, which was then burned, the children thinking that it was the man who was being burned. in the val di ledro (tyrol) on the last day of the carnival a figure is made up of straw and brushwood and then burned. the figure is called the old woman, and the ceremony "burning the old woman." . the easter fires another occasion on which these fire-festivals are held is easter eve, the saturday before easter sunday. on that day it has been customary in catholic countries to extinguish all the lights in the churches, and then to make a new fire, sometimes with flint and steel, sometimes with a burning-glass. at this fire is lit the great paschal or easter candle, which is then used to rekindle all the extinguished lights in the church. in many parts of germany a bonfire is also kindled, by means of the new fire, on some open space near the church. it is consecrated, and the people bring sticks of oak, walnut, and beech, which they char in the fire, and then take home with them. some of these charred sticks are thereupon burned at home in a newly-kindled fire, with a prayer that god will preserve the homestead from fire, lightning, and hail. thus every house receives "new fire." some of the sticks are kept throughout the year and laid on the hearth-fire during heavy thunder-storms to prevent the house from being struck by lightning, or they are inserted in the roof with the like intention. others are placed in the fields, gardens, and meadows, with a prayer that god will keep them from blight and hail. such fields and gardens are thought to thrive more than others; the corn and the plants that grow in them are not beaten down by hail, nor devoured by mice, vermin, and beetles; no witch harms them, and the ears of corn stand close and full. the charred sticks are also applied to the plough. the ashes of the easter bonfire, together with the ashes of the consecrated palm-branches, are mixed with the seed at sowing. a wooden figure called judas is sometimes burned in the consecrated bonfire, and even where this custom has been abolished the bonfire itself in some places goes by the name of "the burning of judas." the essentially pagan character of the easter fire festival appears plainly both from the mode in which it is celebrated by the peasants and from the superstitious beliefs which they associate with it. all over northern and central germany, from altmark and anhalt on the east, through brunswick, hanover, oldenburg, the harz district, and hesse to westphalia the easter bonfires still blaze simultaneously on the hill-tops. as many as forty may sometimes be counted within sight at once. long before easter the young people have been busy collecting firewood; every farmer contributes, and tar-barrels, petroleum cases, and so forth go to swell the pile. neighbouring villages vie with each other as to which shall send up the greatest blaze. the fires are always kindled, year after year, on the same hill, which accordingly often takes the name of easter mountain. it is a fine spectacle to watch from some eminence the bonfires flaring up one after another on the neighbouring heights. as far as their light reaches, so far, in the belief of the peasants, the fields will be fruitful, and the houses on which they shine will be safe from conflagration or sickness. at volkmarsen and other places in hesse the people used to observe which way the wind blew the flames, and then they sowed flax seed in that direction, confident that it would grow well. brands taken from the bonfires preserve houses from being struck by lightning; and the ashes increase the fertility of the fields, protect them from mice, and mixed with the drinking-water of cattle make the animals thrive and ensure them against plague. as the flames die down, young and old leap over them, and cattle are sometimes driven through the smouldering embers. in some places tar-barrels or wheels wrapt in straw used to be set on fire, and then sent rolling down the hillside. in others the boys light torches and wisps of straw at the bonfires and rush about brandishing them in their hands. in münsterland these easter fires are always kindled upon certain definite hills, which are hence known as easter or paschal mountains. the whole community assembles about the fire. the young men and maidens, singing easter hymns, march round and round the fire, till the blaze dies down. then the girls jump over the fire in a line, one after the other, each supported by two young men who hold her hands and run beside her. in the twilight boys with blazing bundles of straw run over the fields to make them fruitful. at delmenhorst, in oldenburg, it used to be the custom to cut down two trees, plant them in the ground side by side, and pile twelve tar-barrels against each. brush-wood was then heaped about the trees, and on the evening of easter saturday the boys, after rushing about with blazing bean-poles in their hands, set fire to the whole. at the end of the ceremony the urchins tried to blacken each other and the clothes of grown-up people. in the altmark it is believed that as far as the blaze of the easter bonfire is visible, the corn will grow well throughout the year, and no conflagration will break out. at braunröde, in the harz mountains, it was the custom to burn squirrels in the easter bonfire. in the altmark, bones were burned in it. near forchheim, in upper franken, a straw-man called the judas used to be burned in the churchyards on easter saturday. the whole village contributed wood to the pyre on which he perished, and the charred sticks were afterwards kept and planted in the fields on walpurgis day (the first of may) to preserve the wheat from blight and mildew. about a hundred years ago or more the custom at althenneberg, in upper bavaria, used to be as follows. on the afternoon of easter saturday the lads collected wood, which they piled in a cornfield, while in the middle of the pile they set up a tall wooden cross all swathed in straw. after the evening service they lighted their lanterns at the consecrated candle in the church, and ran with them at full speed to the pyre, each striving to get there first. the first to arrive set fire to the heap. no woman or girl might come near the bonfire, but they were allowed to watch it from a distance. as the flames rose the men and lads rejoiced and made merry, shouting, "we are burning the judas!" the man who had been the first to reach the pyre and to kindle it was rewarded on easter sunday by the women, who gave him coloured eggs at the church door. the object of the whole ceremony was to keep off the hail. at other villages of upper bavaria the ceremony, which took place between nine and ten at night on easter saturday, was called "burning the easter man." on a height about a mile from the village the young fellows set up a tall cross enveloped in straw, so that it looked like a man with his arms stretched out. this was the easter man. no lad under eighteen years of age might take part in the ceremony. one of the young men stationed himself beside the easter man, holding in his hand a consecrated taper which he had brought from the church and lighted. the rest stood at equal intervals in a great circle round the cross. at a given signal they raced thrice round the circle, and then at a second signal ran straight at the cross and at the lad with the lighted taper beside it; the one who reached the goal first had the right of setting fire to the easter man. great was the jubilation while he was burning. when he had been consumed in the flames, three lads were chosen from among the rest, and each of the three drew a circle on the ground with a stick thrice round the ashes. then they all left the spot. on easter monday the villagers gathered the ashes and strewed them on their fields; also they planted in the fields palmbranches which had been consecrated on palm sunday, and sticks which had been charred and hallowed on good friday, all for the purpose of protecting their fields against showers of hail. in some parts of swabia the easter fires might not be kindled with iron or steel or flint, but only by the friction of wood. the custom of the easter fires appears to have prevailed all over central and western germany from north to south. we find it also in holland, where the fires were kindled on the highest eminences, and the people danced round them and leaped through the flames or over the glowing embers. here too, as often in germany, the materials for the bonfire were collected by the young folk from door to door. in many parts of sweden firearms are discharged in all directions on easter eve, and huge bonfires are lighted on hills and eminences. some people think that the intention is to keep off the troll and other evil spirits who are especially active at this season. . the beltane fires in the central highlands of scotland bonfires, known as the beltane fires, were formerly kindled with great ceremony on the first of may, and the traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear and unequivocal. the custom of lighting the bonfires lasted in various places far into the eighteenth century, and the descriptions of the ceremony by writers of that period present such a curious and interesting picture of ancient heathendom surviving in our own country that i will reproduce them in the words of their authors. the fullest of the descriptions is the one bequeathed to us by john ramsay, laird of ochtertyre, near crieff, the patron of burns and the friend of sir walter scott. he says: "but the most considerable of the druidical festivals is that of beltane, or may-day, which was lately observed in some parts of the highlands with extraordinary ceremonies. . . . like the other public worship of the druids, the beltane feast seems to have been performed on hills or eminences. they thought it degrading to him whose temple is the universe, to suppose that he would dwell in any house made with hands. their sacrifices were therefore offered in the open air, frequently upon the tops of hills, where they were presented with the grandest views of nature, and were nearest the seat of warmth and order. and, according to tradition, such was the manner of celebrating this festival in the highlands within the last hundred years. but since the decline of superstition, it has been celebrated by the people of each hamlet on some hill or rising ground around which their cattle were pasturing. thither the young folks repaired in the morning, and cut a trench, on the summit of which a seat of turf was formed for the company. and in the middle a pile of wood or other fuel was placed, which of old they kindled with _tein-eigin_--_i.e.,_ forced-fire or _need-fire._ although, for many years past, they have been contented with common fire, yet we shall now describe the process, because it will hereafter appear that recourse is still had to the _tein-eigin_ upon extraordinary emergencies. "the night before, all the fires in the country were carefully extinguished, and next morning the materials for exciting this sacred fire were prepared. the most primitive method seems to be that which was used in the islands of skye, mull, and tiree. a well-seasoned plank of oak was procured, in the midst of which a hole was bored. a wimble of the same timber was then applied, the end of which they fitted to the hole. but in some parts of the mainland the machinery was different. they used a frame of green wood, of a square form, in the centre of which was an axle-tree. in some places three times three persons, in others three times nine, were required for turning round by turns the axle-tree or wimble. if any of them had been guilty of murder, adultery, theft, or other atrocious crime, it was imagined either that the fire would not kindle, or that it would be devoid of its usual virtue. so soon as any sparks were emitted by means of the violent friction, they applied a species of agaric which grows on old birch-trees, and is very combustible. this fire had the appearance of being immediately derived from heaven, and manifold were the virtues ascribed to it. they esteemed it a preservative against witch-craft, and a sovereign remedy against malignant diseases, both in the human species and in cattle; and by it the strongest poisons were supposed to have their nature changed. "after kindling the bonfire with the _tein-eigin_ the company prepared their victuals. and as soon as they had finished their meal, they amused themselves a while in singing and dancing round the fire. towards the close of the entertainment, the person who officiated as master of the feast produced a large cake baked with eggs and scalloped round the edge, called _am bonnach bea-tine_--_i.e.,_ the beltane cake. it was divided into a number of pieces, and distributed in great form to the company. there was one particular piece which whoever got was called _cailleach beal-tine_--_i.e.,_ the beltane _carline,_ a term of great reproach. upon his being known, part of the company laid hold of him and made a show of putting him into the fire; but the majority interposing, he was rescued. and in some places they laid him flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him. afterwards, he was pelted with egg-shells, and retained the odious appellation during the whole year. and while the feast was fresh in people's memory, they affected to speak of the _cailleach beal-tine_ as dead." in the parish of callander, a beautiful district of western perthshire, the beltane custom was still in vogue towards the end of the eighteenth century. it has been described as follows by the parish minister of the time: "upon the first day of may, which is called _beltan,_ or _baltein_ day, all the boys in a township or hamlet, meet in the moors. they cut a table in the green sod, of a round figure, by casting a trench in the ground, of such circumference as to hold the whole company. they kindle a fire, and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of a custard. they knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted at the embers against a stone. after the custard is eaten up, they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as possible to one another in size and shape, as there are persons in the company. they daub one of these portions all over with charcoal, until it be perfectly black. they put all the bits of the cake into a bonnet. every one, blindfold, draws out a portion. he who holds the bonnet, is entitled to the last bit. whoever draws the black bit, is the _devoted_ person who is to be sacrificed to _baal,_ whose favour they mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast. there is little doubt of these inhuman sacrifices having been once offered in this country, as well as in the east, although they now pass from the act of sacrificing, and only compel the _devoted_ person to leap three times through the flames; with which the ceremonies of this festival are closed." thomas pennant, who travelled in perthshire in the year , tells us that "on the first of may, the herdsmen of every village hold their bel-tien, a rural sacrifice. they cut a square trench on the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk; and bring besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. the rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation: on that every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them: each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulders, says, 'this i give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; and so on.' after that, they use the same ceremony to the noxious animals: 'this i give to thee, o fox! spare thou my lambs; this to thee, o hooded crow! this to thee, o eagle!' when the ceremony is over, they dine on the caudle; and after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons deputed for that purpose; but on the next sunday they reassemble, and finish the reliques of the first entertainment." another writer of the eighteenth century has described the beltane festival as it was held in the parish of logierait in perthshire. he says: "on the first of may, o.s., a festival called _beltan_ is annually held here. it is chiefly celebrated by the cow-herds, who assemble by scores in the fields, to dress a dinner for themselves, of boiled milk and eggs. these dishes they eat with a sort of cakes baked for the occasion, and having small lumps in the form of _nipples,_ raised all over the surface." in this last account no mention is made of bonfires, but they were probably lighted, for a contemporary writer informs us that in the parish of kirkmichael, which adjoins the parish of logierait on the east, the custom of lighting a fire in the fields and baking a consecrated cake on the first of may was not quite obsolete in his time. we may conjecture that the cake with knobs was formerly used for the purpose of determining who should be the "beltane carline" or victim doomed to the flames. a trace of this custom survived, perhaps, in the custom of baking oatmeal cakes of a special kind and rolling them down hill about noon on the first of may; for it was thought that the person whose cake broke as it rolled would die or be unfortunate within the year. these cakes, or bannocks as we call them in scotland, were baked in the usual way, but they were washed over with a thin batter composed of whipped egg, milk or cream, and a little oatmeal. this custom appears to have prevailed at or near kingussie in inverness-shire. in the north-east of scotland the beltane fires were still kindled in the latter half of the eighteenth century; the herdsmen of several farms used to gather dry wood, kindle it, and dance three times "southways" about the burning pile. but in this region, according to a later authority, the beltane fires were lit not on the first but on the second of may, old style. they were called bone-fires. the people believed that on that evening and night the witches were abroad and busy casting spells on cattle and stealing cows' milk. to counteract their machinations, pieces of rowan-tree and woodbine, but especially of rowan-tree, were placed over the doors of the cow-houses, and fires were kindled by every farmer and cottar. old thatch, straw, furze, or broom was piled in a heap and set on fire a little after sunset. while some of the bystanders kept tossing the blazing mass, others hoisted portions of it on pitchforks or poles and ran hither and thither, holding them as high as they could. meantime the young people danced round the fire or ran through the smoke shouting, "fire! blaze and burn the witches; fire! fire! burn the witches." in some districts a large round cake of oat or barley meal was rolled through the ashes. when all the fuel was consumed, the people scattered the ashes far and wide, and till the night grew quite dark they continued to run through them, crying, "fire! burn the witches." in the hebrides "the beltane bannock is smaller than that made at st. michael's, but is made in the same way; it is no longer made in uist, but father allan remembers seeing his grandmother make one about twenty-five years ago. there was also a cheese made, generally on the first of may, which was kept to the next beltane as a sort of charm against the bewitching of milk-produce. the beltane customs seem to have been the same as elsewhere. every fire was put out and a large one lit on the top of the hill, and the cattle driven round it sunwards (_dessil_), to keep off murrain all the year. each man would take home fire wherewith to kindle his own." in wales also the custom of lighting beltane fires at the beginning of may used to be observed, but the day on which they were kindled varied from the eve of may day to the third of may. the flame was sometimes elicited by the friction of two pieces of oak, as appears from the following description. "the fire was done in this way. nine men would turn their pockets inside out, and see that every piece of money and all metals were off their persons. then the men went into the nearest woods, and collected sticks of nine different kinds of trees. these were carried to the spot where the fire had to be built. there a circle was cut in the sod, and the sticks were set crosswise. all around the circle the people stood and watched the proceedings. one of the men would then take two bits of oak, and rub them together until a flame was kindled. this was applied to the sticks, and soon a large fire was made. sometimes two fires were set up side by side. these fires, whether one or two, were called _coelcerth_ or bonfire. round cakes of oatmeal and brown meal were split in four, and placed in a small flour-bag, and everybody present had to pick out a portion. the last bit in the bag fell to the lot of the bag-holder. each person who chanced to pick up a piece of brown-meal cake was compelled to leap three times over the flames, or to run thrice between the two fires, by which means the people thought they were sure of a plentiful harvest. shouts and screams of those who had to face the ordeal could be heard ever so far, and those who chanced to pick the oatmeal portions sang and danced and clapped their hands in approval, as the holders of the brown bits leaped three times over the flames, or ran three times between the two fires." the belief of the people that by leaping thrice over the bonfires or running thrice between them they ensured a plentiful harvest is worthy of note. the mode in which this result was supposed to be brought about is indicated by another writer on welsh folk-lore, according to whom it used to be held that "the bonfires lighted in may or midsummer protected the lands from sorcery, so that good crops would follow. the ashes were also considered valuable as charms." hence it appears that the heat of the fires was thought to fertilise the fields, not directly by quickening the seeds in the ground, but indirectly by counteracting the baleful influence of witchcraft or perhaps by burning up the persons of the witches. the beltane fires seem to have been kindled also in ireland, for cormac, "or somebody in his name, says that _belltaine,_ may-day, was so called from the 'lucky fire,' or the 'two fires,' which the druids of erin used to make on that day with great incantations; and cattle, he adds, used to be brought to those fires, or to be driven between them, as a safeguard against the diseases of the year." the custom of driving cattle through or between fires on may day or the eve of may day persisted in ireland down to a time within living memory. the first of may is a great popular festival in the more midland and southern parts of sweden. on the eve of the festival huge bonfires, which should be lighted by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. every large hamlet has its own fire, round which the young people dance in a ring. the old folk notice whether the flames incline to the north or to the south. in the former case, the spring will be cold and backward; in the latter, it will be mild and genial. in bohemia, on the eve of may day, young people kindle fires on hills and eminences, at crossways, and in pastures, and dance round them. they leap over the glowing embers or even through the flames. the ceremony is called "burning the witches." in some places an effigy representing a witch used to be burnt in the bonfire. we have to remember that the eve of may day is the notorious walpurgis night, when the witches are everywhere speeding unseen through the air on their hellish errands. on this witching night children in voigtland also light bonfires on the heights and leap over them. moreover, they wave burning brooms or toss them into the air. so far as the light of the bonfire reaches, so far will a blessing rest on the fields. the kindling of the fires on walpurgis night is called "driving away the witches." the custom of kindling fires on the eve of may day (walpurgis night) for the purpose of burning the witches is, or used to be, widespread in the tyrol, moravia, saxony and silesia. . the midsummer fires but the season at which these firefestivals have been most generally held all over europe is the summer solstice, that is midsummer eve (the twenty-third of june) or midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june). a faint tinge of christianity has been given to them by naming midsummer day after st. john the baptist, but we cannot doubt that the celebration dates from a time long before the beginning of our era. the summer solstice, or midsummer day, is the great turning-point in the sun's career, when, after climbing higher and higher day by day in the sky, the luminary stops and thenceforth retraces his steps down the heavenly road. such a moment could not but be regarded with anxiety by primitive man so soon as he began to observe and ponder the courses of the great lights across the celestial vault; and having still to learn his own powerlessness in face of the vast cyclic changes of nature, he may have fancied that he could help the sun in his seeming decline--could prop his failing steps and rekindle the sinking flame of the red lamp in his feeble hand. in some such thoughts as these the midsummer festivals of our european peasantry may perhaps have taken their rise. whatever their origin, they have prevailed all over this quarter of the globe, from ireland on the west to russia on the east, and from norway and sweden on the north to spain and greece on the south. according to a mediaeval writer, the three great features of the midsummer celebration were the bonfires, the procession with torches round the fields, and the custom of rolling a wheel. he tells us that boys burned bones and filth of various kinds to make a foul smoke, and that the smoke drove away certain noxious dragons which at this time, excited by the summer heat, copulated in the air and poisoned the wells and rivers by dropping their seed into them; and he explains the custom of trundling a wheel to mean that the sun, having now reached the highest point in the ecliptic, begins thenceforward to descend. the main features of the midsummer fire-festival resemble those which we have found to characterise the vernal festivals of fire. the similarity of the two sets of ceremonies will plainly appear from the following examples. a writer of the first half of the sixteenth century informs us that in almost every village and town of germany public bonfires were kindled on the eve of st. john, and young and old, of both sexes, gathered about them and passed the time in dancing and singing. people on this occasion wore chaplets of mugwort and vervain, and they looked at the fire through bunches of larkspur which they held in their hands, believing that this would preserve their eyes in a healthy state throughout the year. as each departed, he threw the mugwort and vervain into the fire, saying, "may all my ill-luck depart and be burnt up with these." at lower konz, a village situated on a hillside overlooking the moselle, the midsummer festival used to be celebrated as follows. a quantity of straw was collected on the top of the steep stromberg hill. every inhabitant, or at least every householder, had to contribute his share of straw to the pile. at nightfall the whole male population, men and boys, mustered on the top of the hill; the women and girls were not allowed to join them, but had to take up their position at a certain spring half-way down the slope. on the summit stood a huge wheel completely encased in some of the straw which had been jointly contributed by the villagers; the rest of the straw was made into torches. from each side of the wheel the axle-tree projected about three feet, thus furnishing handles to the lads who were to guide it in its descent. the mayor of the neighbouring town of sierck, who always received a basket of cherries for his services, gave the signal; a lighted torch was applied to the wheel, and as it burst into flame, two young fellows, strong-limbed and swift of foot, seized the handles and began running with it down the slope. a great shout went up. every man and boy waved a blazing torch in the air, and took care to keep it alight so long as the wheel was trundling down the hill. the great object of the young men who guided the wheel was to plunge it blazing into the water of the moselle; but they rarely succeeded in their efforts, for the vineyards which cover the greater part of the declivity impeded their progress, and the wheel was often burned out before it reached the river. as it rolled past the women and girls at the spring, they raised cries of joy which were answered by the men on the top of the mountain; and the shouts were echoed by the inhabitants of neighbouring villages who watched the spectacle from their hills on the opposite bank of the moselle. if the fiery wheel was successfully conveyed to the bank of the river and extinguished in the water, the people looked for an abundant vintage that year, and the inhabitants of konz had the right to exact a waggon-load of white wine from the surrounding vineyards. on the other hand, they believed that, if they neglected to perform the ceremony, the cattle would be attacked by giddiness and convulsions and would dance in their stalls. down at least to the middle of the nineteenth century the midsummer fires used to blaze all over upper bavaria. they were kindled especially on the mountains, but also far and wide in the lowlands, and we are told that in the darkness and stillness of night the moving groups, lit up by the flickering glow of the flames, presented an impressive spectacle. cattle were driven through the fire to cure the sick animals and to guard such as were sound against plague and harm of every kind throughout the year. many a householder on that day put out the fire on the domestic hearth and rekindled it by means of a brand taken from the midsummer bonfire. the people judged of the height to which the flax would grow in the year by the height to which the flames of the bonfire rose; and whoever leaped over the burning pile was sure not to suffer from backache in reaping the corn at harvest. in many parts of bavaria it was believed that the flax would grow as high as the young people leaped over the fire. in others the old folk used to plant three charred sticks from the bonfire in the fields, believing that this would make the flax grow tall. elsewhere an extinguished brand was put in the roof of the house to protect it against fire. in the towns about würzburg the bonfires used to be kindled in the market-places, and the young people who jumped over them wore garlands of flowers, especially of mugwort and vervain, and carried sprigs of larkspur in their hands. they thought that such as looked at the fire holding a bit of larkspur before their face would be troubled by no malady of the eyes throughout the year. further, it was customary at würzburg, in the sixteenth century, for the bishop's followers to throw burning discs of wood into the air from a mountain which overhangs the town. the discs were discharged by means of flexible rods, and in their flight through the darkness presented the appearance of fiery dragons. similarly in swabia, lads and lasses, hand in hand, leap over the midsummer bonfire, praying that the hemp may grow three ells high, and they set fire to wheels of straw and send them rolling down the hill. sometimes, as the people sprang over the midsummer bonfire they cried out, "flax, flax! may the flax this year grow seven ells high!" at rottenburg a rude effigy in human form, called the angelman, used to be enveloped in flowers and then burnt in the midsummer fire by boys, who afterwards leaped over the glowing embers. so in baden the children collected fuel from house to house for the midsummer bonfire on st. john's day; and lads and lasses leaped over the fire in couples. here, as elsewhere, a close connexion was traced between these bonfires and the harvest. in some places it was thought that those who leaped over the fires would not suffer from backache at reaping. sometimes, as the young folk sprang over the flames, they cried, "grow, that the hemp may be three ells high!" this notion that the hemp or the corn would grow as high as the flames blazed or as the people jumped over them, seems to have been widespread in baden. it was held that the parents of the young people who bounded highest over the fire would have the most abundant harvest; and on the other hand, if a man contributed nothing to the bonfire, it was imagined that there would be no blessing on his crops, and that his hemp in particular would never grow. at edersleben, near sangerhausen, a high pole was planted in the ground and a tarbarrel was hung from it by a chain which reached to the ground. the barrel was then set on fire and swung round the pole amid shouts of joy. in denmark and norway also midsummer fires were kindled on st. john's eve on roads, open spaces, and hills. people in norway thought that the fires banished sickness from among the cattle. even yet the fires are said to be lighted all over norway on midsummer eve. they are kindled in order to keep off the witches, who are said to be flying from all parts that night to the blocksberg, where the big witch lives. in sweden the eve of st. john (st. hans) is the most joyous night of the whole year. throughout some parts of the country, especially in the provinces of bohus and scania and in districts bordering on norway, it is celebrated by the frequent discharge of firearms and by huge bonfires, formerly called balder's balefires (_balder's balar_), which are kindled at dusk on hills and eminences and throw a glare of light over the surrounding landscape. the people dance round the fires and leap over or through them. in parts of norrland on st. john's eve the bonfires are lit at the cross-roads. the fuel consists of nine different sorts of wood, and the spectators cast into the flames a kind of toad-stool (_bäran_) in order to counteract the power of the trolls and other evil spirits, who are believed to be abroad that night; for at that mystic season the mountains open and from their cavernous depths the uncanny crew pours forth to dance and disport themselves for a time. the peasants believe that should any of the trolls be in the vicinity they will show themselves; and if an animal, for example a he or she goat, happens to be seen near the blazing, crackling pile, the peasants are firmly persuaded that it is no other than the evil one in person. further, it deserves to be remarked that in sweden st. john's eve is a festival of water as well as of fire; for certain holy springs are then supposed to be endowed with wonderful medicinal virtues, and many sick people resort to them for the healing of their infirmities. in austria the midsummer customs and superstitions resemble those of germany. thus in some parts of the tyrol bonfires are kindled and burning discs hurled into the air. in the lower valley of the inn a tatterdemalion effigy is carted about the village on midsummer day and then burned. he is called the _lotter,_ which has been corrupted into luther. at ambras, one of the villages where martin luther is thus burned in effigy, they say that if you go through the village between eleven and twelve on st. john's night and wash yourself in three wells, you will see all who are to die in the following year. at gratz on st. john's eve (the twenty-third of june) the common people used to make a puppet called the _tatermann,_ which they dragged to the bleaching ground, and pelted with burning besoms till it took fire. at reutte, in the tyrol, people believed that the flax would grow as high as they leaped over the midsummer bonfire, and they took pieces of charred wood from the fire and stuck them in their flax-fields the same night, leaving them there till the flax harvest had been got in. in lower austria bonfires are kindled on the heights, and the boys caper round them, brandishing lighted torches drenched in pitch. whoever jumps thrice across the fire will not suffer from fever within the year. cart-wheels are often smeared with pitch, ignited, and sent rolling and blazing down the hillsides. all over bohemia bonfires still burn on midsummer eve. in the afternoon boys go about with handcarts from house to house collecting fuel and threatening with evil consequences the curmudgeons who refuse them a dole. sometimes the young men fell a tall straight fir in the woods and set it up on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, wreaths of leaves, and red ribbons. then brushwood is piled about it, and at nightfall the whole is set on fire. while the flames break out, the young men climb the tree and fetch down the wreaths which the girls had placed on it. after that lads and lasses stand on opposite sides of the fire and look at one another through the wreaths to see whether they will be true to each other and marry within the year. also the girls throw the wreaths across the flames to the men, and woe to the awkward swain who fails to catch the wreath thrown him by his sweetheart. when the blaze has died down, each couple takes hands and leaps thrice across the fire. he or she who does so will be free from ague throughout the year, and the flax will grow as high as the young folks leap. a girl who sees nine bonfires on midsummer eve will marry before the year is out. the singed wreaths are carried home and carefully preserved throughout the year. during thunderstorms a bit of the wreath is burned on the hearth with a prayer; some of it is given to kine that are sick or calving, and some of it serves to fumigate house and cattle-stall, that man and beast may keep hale and well. sometimes an old cart-wheel is smeared with resin, ignited, and sent rolling down the hill. often the boys collect all the worn-out besoms they can get hold of, dip them in pitch, and having set them on fire wave them about or throw them high into the air. or they rush down the hillside in troops, brandishing the flaming brooms and shouting. the stumps of the brooms and embers from the fire are preserved and stuck in cabbage gardens to protect the cabbages from caterpillars and gnats. some people insert charred sticks and ashes from the midsummer bonfire in their sown fields and meadows, in their gardens and the roofs of their houses, as a talisman against lightning and foul weather; or they fancy that the ashes placed in the roof will prevent any fire from breaking out in the house. in some districts they crown or gird themselves with mugwort while the midsummer fire is burning, for this is supposed to be a protection against ghosts, witches, and sickness; in particular, a wreath of mugwort is a sure preventive of sore eyes. sometimes the girls look at the bonfires through garlands of wild flowers, praying the fire to strengthen their eyes and eyelids. she who does this thrice will have no sore eyes all that year. in some parts of bohemia they used to drive the cows through the midsummer fire to guard them against witchcraft. in slavonic countries, also, the midsummer festival is celebrated with similar rites. we have already seen that in russia on the eve of st. john young men and maidens jump over a bonfire in couples carrying a straw effigy of kupalo in their arms. in some parts of russia an image of kupalo is burnt or thrown into a stream on st. john's night. again, in some districts of russia the young folk wear garlands of flowers and girdles of holy herbs when they spring through the smoke or flames; and sometimes they drive the cattle also through the fire in order to protect the animals against wizards and witches, who are then ravenous after milk. in little russia a stake is driven into the ground on st. john's night, wrapt in straw, and set on fire. as the flames rise the peasant women throw birchen boughs into them, saying, "may my flax be as tall as this bough!" in ruthenia the bonfires are lighted by a flame procured by the friction of wood. while the elders of the party are engaged in thus "churning" the fire, the rest maintain a respectful silence; but when the flame bursts from the wood, they break forth into joyous songs. as soon as the bonfires are kindled, the young people take hands and leap in pairs through the smoke, if not through the flames; and after that the cattle in their turn are driven through the fire. in many parts of prussia and lithuania great fires are kindled on midsummer eve. all the heights are ablaze with them, as far as the eye can see. the fires are supposed to be a protection against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease, especially if next morning the cattle are driven over the places where the fires burned. above all, the bonfires ensure the farmer against the arts of witches, who try to steal the milk from his cows by charms and spells. that is why next morning you may see the young fellows who lit the bonfire going from house to house and receiving jugfuls of milk. and for the same reason they stick burs and mugwort on the gate or the hedge through which the cows go to pasture, because that is supposed to be a preservative against witchcraft. in masuren, a district of eastern prussia inhabited by a branch of the polish family, it is the custom on the evening of midsummer day to put out all the fires in the village. then an oaken stake is driven into the ground and a wheel is fixed on it as on an axle. this wheel the villagers, working by relays, cause to revolve with great rapidity till fire is produced by friction. every one takes home a lighted brand from the new fire and with it rekindles the fire on the domestic hearth. in serbia on midsummer eve herdsmen light torches of birch bark and march round the sheepfolds and cattle-stalls; then they climb the hills and there allow the torches to burn out. among the magyars in hungary the midsummer fire-festival is marked by the same features that meet us in so many parts of europe. on midsummer eve in many places it is customary to kindle bonfires on heights and to leap over them, and from the manner in which the young people leap the bystanders predict whether they will marry soon. on this day also many hungarian swineherds make fire by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and through the fire thus made they drive their pigs to preserve them from sickness. the esthonians of russia, who, like the magyars, belong to the great turanian family of mankind, also celebrate the summer solstice in the usual way. they think that the st. john's fire keeps witches from the cattle, and they say that he who does not come to it will have his barley full of thistles and his oats full of weeds. in the esthonian island of oesel, while they throw fuel into the midsummer fire, they call out, "weeds to the fire, flax to the field," or they fling three billets into the flames, saying, "flax grow long!" and they take charred sticks from the bonfire home with them and keep them to make the cattle thrive. in some parts of the island the bonfire is formed by piling brushwood and other combustibles round a tree, at the top of which a flag flies. whoever succeeds in knocking down the flag with a pole before it begins to burn will have good luck. formerly the festivities lasted till daybreak, and ended in scenes of debauchery which looked doubly hideous by the growing light of a summer morning. when we pass from the east to the west of europe we still find the summer solstice celebrated with rites of the same general character. down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer prevailed so commonly in france that there was hardly a town or a village, we are told, where they were not kindled. people danced round and leaped over them, and took charred sticks from the bonfire home with them to protect the houses against lightning, conflagrations, and spells. in brittany, apparently, the custom of the midsummer bonfires is kept up to this day. when the flames have died down, the whole assembly kneels round about the bonfire and an old man prays aloud. then they all rise and march thrice round the fire; at the third turn they stop and every one picks up a pebble and throws it on the burning pile. after that they disperse. in brittany and berry it is believed that a girl who dances round nine midsummer bonfires will marry within the year. in the valley of the orne the custom was to kindle the bonfire just at the moment when the sun was about to dip below the horizon; and the peasants drove their cattle through the fires to protect them against witchcraft, especially against the spells of witches and wizards who attempted to steal the milk and butter. at jumièges in normandy, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, the midsummer festival was marked by certain singular features which bore the stamp of a very high antiquity. every year, on the twenty-third of june, the eve of st. john, the brotherhood of the green wolf chose a new chief or master, who had always to be taken from the hamlet of conihout. on being elected, the new head of the brotherhood assumed the title of the green wolf, and donned a peculiar costume consisting of a long green mantle and a very tall green hat of a conical shape and without a brim. thus arrayed he stalked solemnly at the head of the brothers, chanting the hymn of st. john, the crucifix and holy banner leading the way, to a place called chouquet. here the procession was met by the priest, precentors, and choir, who conducted the brotherhood to the parish church. after hearing mass the company adjourned to the house of the green wolf, where a simple repast was served up to them. at night a bonfire was kindled to the sound of hand-bells by a young man and a young woman, both decked with flowers. then the green wolf and his brothers, with their hoods down on their shoulders and holding each other by the hand, ran round the fire after the man who had been chosen to be the green wolf of the following year. though only the first and the last man of the chain had a hand free, their business was to surround and seize thrice the future green wolf, who in his efforts to escape belaboured the brothers with a long wand which he carried. when at last they succeeded in catching him they carried him to the burning pile and made as if they would throw him on it. this ceremony over, they returned to the house of the green wolf, where a supper, still of the most meagre fare, was set before them. up till midnight a sort of religious solemnity prevailed. but at the stroke of twelve all this was changed. constraint gave way to license; pious hymns were replaced by bacchanalian ditties, and the shrill quavering notes of the village fiddle hardly rose above the roar of voices that went up from the merry brotherhood of the green wolf. next day, the twenty-fourth of june or midsummer day, was celebrated by the same personages with the same noisy gaiety. one of the ceremonies consisted in parading, to the sound of musketry, an enormous loaf of consecrated bread, which, rising in tiers, was surmounted by a pyramid of verdure adorned with ribbons. after that the holy hand-bells, deposited on the step of the altar, were entrusted as insignia of office to the man who was to be the green wolf next year. at château-thierry, in the department of aisne, the custom of lighting bonfires and dancing round them at the midsummer festival of st. john lasted down to about ; the fires were kindled especially when june had been rainy, and the people thought that the lighting of the bonfires would cause the rain to cease. in the vosges it is still customary to kindle bonfires upon the hill-tops on midsummer eve; the people believe that the fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops. bonfires were lit in almost all the hamlets of poitou on the eve of st. john. people marched round them thrice, carrying a branch of walnut in their hand. shepherdesses and children passed sprigs of mullein (_verbascum_) and nuts across the flames; the nuts were supposed to cure toothache, and the mullein to protect the cattle from sickness and sorcery. when the fire died down people took some of the ashes home with them, either to keep them in the house as a preservative against thunder or to scatter them on the fields for the purpose of destroying corn-cockles and darnel. in poitou also it used to be customary on the eve of st. john to trundle a blazing wheel wrapt in straw over the fields to fertilise them. in the mountainous part of comminges, a province of southern france, the midsummer fire is made by splitting open the trunk of a tall tree, stuffing the crevice with shavings, and igniting the whole. a garland of flowers is fastened to the top of the tree, and at the moment when the fire is lighted the man who was last married has to climb up a ladder and bring the flowers down. in the flat parts of the same district the materials of the midsummer bonfires consist of fuel piled in the usual way; but they must be put together by men who have been married since the last midsummer festival, and each of these benedicts is obliged to lay a wreath of flowers on the top of the pile. in provence the midsummer fires are still popular. children go from door to door begging for fuel, and they are seldom sent empty away. formerly the priest, the mayor, and the aldermen used to walk in procession to the bonfire, and even deigned to light it; after which the assembly marched thrice round the burning pile. at aix a nominal king, chosen from among the youth for his skill in shooting at a popinjay, presided over the midsummer festival. he selected his own officers, and escorted by a brilliant train marched to the bonfire, kindled it, and was the first to dance round it. next day he distributed largesse to his followers. his reign lasted a year, during which he enjoyed certain privileges. he was allowed to attend the mass celebrated by the commander of the knights of st. john on st. john's day; the right of hunting was accorded to him, and soldiers might not be quartered in his house. at marseilles also on this day one of the guilds chose a king of the _badache_ or double axe; but it does not appear that he kindled the bonfire, which is said to have been lighted with great ceremony by the préfet and other authorities. in belgium the custom of kindling the midsummer bonfires has long disappeared from the great cities, but it is still kept up in rural districts and small towns. in that country the eve of st. peter's day (the twenty-ninth of june) is celebrated by bonfires and dances exactly like those which commemorate st. john's eve. some people say that the fires of st. peter, like those of st. john, are lighted in order to drive away dragons. in french flanders down to a straw figure representing a man was always burned in the midsummer bonfire, and the figure of a woman was burned on st. peter's day, the twenty-ninth of june. in belgium people jump over the midsummer bonfires as a preventive of colic, and they keep the ashes at home to hinder fire from breaking out. the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer has been observed in many parts of our own country, and as usual people danced round and leaped over them. in wales three or nine different kinds of wood and charred faggots carefully preserved from the last midsummer were deemed necessary to build the bonfire, which was generally done on rising ground. in the vale of glamorgan a cart-wheel swathed in straw used to be ignited and sent rolling down the hill. if it kept alight all the way down and blazed for a long time, an abundant harvest was expected. on midsummer eve people in the isle of man were wont to light fires to the windward of every field, so that the smoke might pass over the corn; and they folded their cattle and carried blazing furze or gorse round them several times. in ireland cattle, especially barren cattle, were driven through the midsummer fires, and the ashes were thrown on the fields to fertilise them, or live coals were carried into them to prevent blight. in scotland the traces of midsummer fires are few; but at that season in the highlands of perthshire cowherds used to go round their folds thrice, in the direction of the sun, with lighted torches. this they did to purify the flocks and herds and to keep them from falling sick. the practice of lighting bonfires on midsummer eve and dancing or leaping over them is, or was till recently, common all over spain and in some parts of italy and sicily. in malta great fires are kindled in the streets and squares of the towns and villages on the eve of st. john (midsummer eve); formerly the grand master of the order of st. john used on that evening to set fire to a heap of pitch barrels placed in front of the sacred hospital. in greece, too, the custom of kindling fires on st. john's eve and jumping over them is said to be still universal. one reason assigned for it is a wish to escape from the fleas. according to another account, the women cry out, as they leap over the fire, "i leave my sins behind me." in lesbos the fires on st. john's eve are usually lighted by threes, and the people spring thrice over them, each with a stone on his head, saying, "i jump the hare's fire, my head a stone!" in calymnos the midsummer fire is supposed to ensure abundance in the coming year as well as deliverance from fleas. the people dance round the fires singing, with stones on their heads, and then jump over the blaze or the glowing embers. when the fire is burning low, they throw the stones into it; and when it is nearly out, they make crosses on their legs and then go straightway and bathe in the sea. the custom of kindling bonfires on midsummer day or on midsummer eve is widely spread among the mohammedan peoples of north africa, particularly in morocco and algeria; it is common both to the berbers and to many of the arabs or arabic-speaking tribes. in these countries midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june, old style) is called _l'ánsara._ the fires are lit in the courtyards, at cross-roads, in the fields, and sometimes on the threshing-floors. plants which in burning give out a thick smoke and an aromatic smell are much sought after for fuel on these occasions; among the plants used for the purpose are giant-fennel, thyme, rue, chervil-seed, camomile, geranium, and penny-royal. people expose themselves, and especially their children, to the smoke, and drive it towards the orchards and the crops. also they leap across the fires; in some places everybody ought to repeat the leap seven times. moreover they take burning brands from the fires and carry them through the houses in order to fumigate them. they pass things through the fire, and bring the sick into contact with it, while they utter prayers for their recovery. the ashes of the bonfires are also reputed to possess beneficial properties; hence in some places people rub their hair or their bodies with them. in some places they think that by leaping over the fires they rid themselves of all misfortune, and that childless couples thereby obtain offspring. berbers of the rif province, in northern morocco, make great use of fires at midsummer for the good of themselves, their cattle, and their fruit-trees. they jump over the bonfires in the belief that this will preserve them in good health, and they light fires under fruit-trees to keep the fruit from falling untimely. and they imagine that by rubbing a paste of the ashes on their hair they prevent the hair from falling off their heads. in all these moroccan customs, we are told, the beneficial effect is attributed wholly to the smoke, which is supposed to be endued with a magical quality that removes misfortune from men, animals, fruit-trees and crops. the celebration of a midsummer festival by mohammedan peoples is particularly remarkable, because the mohammedan calendar, being purely lunar and uncorrected by intercalation, necessarily takes no note of festivals which occupy fixed points in the solar year; all strictly mohammedan feasts, being pinned to the moon, slide gradually with that luminary through the whole period of the earth's revolution about the sun. this fact of itself seems to prove that among the mohammedan peoples of northern africa, as among the christian peoples of europe, the midsummer festival is quite independent of the religion which the people publicly profess, and is a relic of a far older paganism. . the hallowe'en fires from the foregoing survey we may infer that among the heathen forefathers of the european peoples the most popular and widespread fire-festival of the year was the great celebration of midsummer eve or midsummer day. the coincidence of the festival with the summer solstice can hardly be accidental. rather we must suppose that our pagan ancestors purposely timed the ceremony of fire on earth to coincide with the arrival of the sun at the highest point of his course in the sky. if that was so, it follows that the old founders of the midsummer rites had observed the solstices or turning-points of the sun's apparent path in the sky, and that they accordingly regulated their festal calendar to some extent by astronomical considerations. but while this may be regarded as fairly certain for what we may call the aborigines throughout a large part of the continent, it appears not to have been true of the celtic peoples who inhabited the land's end of europe, the islands and promontories that stretch out into the atlantic ocean on the north-west. the principal fire-festivals of the celts, which have survived, though in a restricted area and with diminished pomp, to modern times and even to our own day, were seemingly timed without any reference to the position of the sun in the heaven. they were two in number, and fell at an interval of six months, one being celebrated on the eve of may day and the other on allhallow even or hallowe'en, as it is now commonly called, that is, on the thirty-first of october, the day preceding all saints' or allhallows' day. these dates coincide with none of the four great hinges on which the solar year revolves, to wit, the solstices and the equinoxes. nor do they agree with the principal seasons of the agricultural year, the sowing in spring and the reaping in autumn. for when may day comes, the seed has long been committed to the earth; and when november opens, the harvest has long been reaped and garnered, the fields lie bare, the fruit-trees are stripped, and even the yellow leaves are fast fluttering to the ground. yet the first of may and the first of november mark turning-points of the year in europe; the one ushers in the genial heat and the rich vegetation of summer, the other heralds, if it does not share, the cold and barrenness of winter. now these particular points of the year, as has been well pointed out by a learned and ingenious writer, while they are of comparatively little moment to the european husbandman, do deeply concern the european herdsman; for it is on the approach of summer that he drives his cattle out into the open to crop the fresh grass, and it is on the approach of winter that he leads them back to the safety and shelter of the stall. accordingly it seems not improbable that the celtic bisection of the year into two halves at the beginning of may and the beginning of november dates from a time when the celts were mainly a pastoral people, dependent for their subsistence on their herds, and when accordingly the great epochs of the year for them were the days on which the cattle went forth from the homestead in early summer and returned to it again in early winter. even in central europe, remote from the region now occupied by the celts, a similar bisection of the year may be clearly traced in the great popularity, on the one hand, of may day and its eve (walpurgis night), and, on the other hand, of the feast of all souls at the beginning of november, which under a thin christian cloak conceals an ancient pagan festival of the dead. hence we may conjecture that everywhere throughout europe the celestial division of the year according to the solstices was preceded by what we may call a terrestrial division of the year according to the beginning of summer and the beginning of winter. be that as it may, the two great celtic festivals of may day and the first of november or, to be more accurate, the eves of these two days, closely resemble each other in the manner of their celebration and in the superstitions associated with them, and alike, by the antique character impressed upon both, betray a remote and purely pagan origin. the festival of may day or beltane, as the celts called it, which ushered in summer, has already been described; it remains to give some account of the corresponding festival of hallowe'en, which announced the arrival of winter. of the two feasts hallowe'en was perhaps of old the more important, since the celts would seem to have dated the beginning of the year from it rather than from beltane. in the isle of man, one of the fortresses in which the celtic language and lore longest held out against the siege of the saxon invaders, the first of november, old style, has been regarded as new year's day down to recent times. thus manx mummers used to go round on hallowe'en (old style), singing, in the manx language, a sort of hogmanay song which began "to-night is new year's night, _hogunnaa!_" in ancient ireland, a new fire used to be kindled every year on hallowe'en or the eve of samhain, and from this sacred flame all the fires in ireland were rekindled. such a custom points strongly to samhain or all saints' day (the first of november) as new year's day; since the annual kindling of a new fire takes place most naturally at the beginning of the year, in order that the blessed influence of the fresh fire may last throughout the whole period of twelve months. another confirmation of the view that the celts dated their year from the first of november is furnished by the manifold modes of divination which were commonly resorted to by celtic peoples on hallowe'en for the purpose of ascertaining their destiny, especially their fortune in the coming year; for when could these devices for prying into the future be more reasonably put in practice than at the beginning of the year? as a season of omens and auguries hallowe'en seems to have far surpassed beltane in the imagination of the celts; from which we may with some probability infer that they reckoned their year from hallowe'en rather than beltane. another circumstance of great moment which points to the same conclusion is the association of the dead with hallowe'en. not only among the celts but throughout europe, hallowe'en, the night which marks the transition from autumn to winter, seems to have been of old the time of year when the souls of the departed were supposed to revisit their old homes in order to warm themselves by the fire and to comfort themselves with the good cheer provided for them in the kitchen or the parlour by their affectionate kinsfolk. it was, perhaps, a natural thought that the approach of winter should drive the poor shivering hungry ghosts from the bare fields and the leafless woodlands to the shelter of the cottage with its familiar fireside. did not the lowing kine then troop back from the summer pastures in the forests and on the hills to be fed and cared for in the stalls, while the bleak winds whistled among the swaying boughs and the snow-drifts deepened in the hollows? and could the good-man and the good-wife deny to the spirits of their dead the welcome which they gave to the cows? but it is not only the souls of the departed who are supposed to be hovering unseen on the day "when autumn to winter resigns the pale year." witches then speed on their errands of mischief, some sweeping through the air on besoms, others galloping along the roads on tabby-cats, which for that evening are turned into coal-black steeds. the fairies, too, are all let loose, and hobgoblins of every sort roam freely about. yet while a glamour of mystery and awe has always clung to hallowe'en in the minds of the celtic peasantry, the popular celebration of the festival has been, at least in modern times, by no means of a prevailing gloomy cast; on the contrary it has been attended by picturesque features and merry pastimes, which rendered it the gayest night of all the year. amongst the things which in the highlands of scotland contributed to invest the festival with a romantic beauty were the bonfires which used to blaze at frequent intervals on the heights. "on the last day of autumn children gathered ferns, tar-barrels, the long thin stalks called _gàinisg,_ and everything suitable for a bonfire. these were placed in a heap on some eminence near the house, and in the evening set fire to. the fires were called _samhnagan._ there was one for each house, and it was an object of ambition who should have the biggest. whole districts were brilliant with bonfires, and their glare across a highland loch, and from many eminences, formed an exceedingly picturesque scene." like the beltane fires on the first of may, the hallowe'en bonfires seem to have been kindled most commonly in the perthshire highlands. in the parish of callander they still blazed down to near the end of the eighteenth century. when the fire had died down, the ashes were carefully collected in the form of a circle, and a stone was put in, near the circumference, for every person of the several families interested in the bonfire. next morning, if any of these stones was found to be displaced or injured, the people made sure that the person represented by it was _fey_ or devoted, and that he could not live twelve months from that day. at balquhidder down to the latter part of the nineteenth century each household kindled its bonfire at hallowe'en, but the custom was chiefly observed by children. the fires were lighted on any high knoll near the house; there was no dancing round them. hallowe'en fires were also lighted in some districts of the north-east of scotland, such as buchan. villagers and farmers alike must have their fire. in the villages the boys went from house to house and begged a peat from each householder, usually with the words, "ge's a peat t' burn the witches." when they had collected enough peats, they piled them in a heap, together with straw, furze, and other combustible materials, and set the whole on fire. then each of the youths, one after another, laid himself down on the ground as near to the fire as he could without being scorched, and thus lying allowed the smoke to roll over him. the others ran through the smoke and jumped over their prostrate comrade. when the heap was burned down, they scattered the ashes, vying with each other who should scatter them most. in the northern part of wales it used to be customary for every family to make a great bonfire called _coel coeth_ on hallowe'en. the fire was kindled on the most conspicuous spot near the house; and when it had nearly gone out every one threw into the ashes a white stone, which he had first marked. then having said their prayers round the fire, they went to bed. next morning, as soon as they were up, they came to search out the stones, and if any one of them was found to be missing, they had a notion that the person who threw it would die before he saw another hallowe'en. according to sir john rhys, the habit of celebrating hallowe'en by lighting bonfires on the hills is perhaps not yet extinct in wales, and men still living can remember how the people who assisted at the bonfires would wait till the last spark was out and then would suddenly take to their heels, shouting at the top of their voices, "the cropped black sow seize the hindmost!" the saying, as sir john rhys justly remarks, implies that originally one of the company became a victim in dead earnest. down to the present time the saying is current in carnarvonshire, where allusions to the cutty black sow are still occasionally made to frighten children. we can now understand why in lower brittany every person throws a pebble into the midsummer bonfire. doubtless there, as in wales and the highlands of scotland, omens of life and death have at one time or other been drawn from the position and state of the pebbles on the morning of all saints' day. the custom, thus found among three separate branches of the celtic stock, probably dates from a period before their dispersion, or at least from a time when alien races had not yet driven home the wedges of separation between them. in the isle of man also, another celtic country, hallowe'en was celebrated down to modern times by the kindling of fires, accompanied with all the usual ceremonies designed to prevent the baneful influence of fairies and witches. . the midwinter fires if the heathen of ancient europe celebrated, as we have good reason to believe, the season of midsummer with a great festival of fire, of which the traces have survived in many places down to our own time, it is natural to suppose that they should have observed with similar rites the corresponding season of midwinter; for midsummer and midwinter, or, in more technical language, the summer solstice and the winter solstice, are the two great turningpoints in the sun's apparent course through the sky, and from the standpoint of primitive man nothing might seem more appropriate than to kindle fires on earth at the two moments when the fire and heat of the great luminary in heaven begin to wane or to wax. in modern christendom the ancient fire-festival of the winter solstice appears to survive, or to have survived down to recent years, in the old custom of the yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called in england. the custom was widespread in europe, but seems to have flourished especially in england, france, and among the south slavs; at least the fullest accounts of the custom come from these quarters. that the yule log was only the winter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire, kindled within doors instead of in the open air on account of the cold and inclement weather of the season, was pointed out long ago by our english antiquary john brand; and the view is supported by the many quaint superstitions attaching to the yule log, superstitions which have no apparent connexion with christianity but carry their heathen origin plainly stamped upon them. but while the two solstitial celebrations were both festivals of fire, the necessity or desirability of holding the winter celebration within doors lent it the character of a private or domestic festivity, which contrasts strongly with the publicity of the summer celebration, at which the people gathered on some open space or conspicuous height, kindled a huge bonfire in common, and danced and made merry round it together. down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the old rite of the yule log was kept up in some parts of central germany. thus in the valleys of the sieg and lahn the yule log, a heavy block of oak, was fitted into the floor of the hearth, where, though it glowed under the fire, it was hardly reduced to ashes within a year. when the new log was laid next year, the remains of the old one were ground to powder and strewed over the fields during the twelve nights, which was supposed to promote the growth of the crops. in some villages of westphalia, the practice was to withdraw the yule log (_christbrand_) from the fire so soon as it was slightly charred; it was then kept carefully to be replaced on the fire whenever a thunderstorm broke, because the people believed that lightning would not strike a house in which the yule log was smouldering. in other villages of westphalia the old custom was to tie up the yule log in the last sheaf cut at harvest. in several provinces of france, and particularly in provence, the custom of the yule log or _tréfoir,_ as it was called in many places, was long observed. a french writer of the seventeenth century denounces as superstitious "the belief that a log called the _tréfoir_ or christmas brand, which you put on the fire for the first time on christmas eve and continue to put on the fire for a little while every day till twelfth night, can, if kept under the bed, protect the house for a whole year from fire and thunder; that it can prevent the inmates from having chilblains on their heels in winter; that it can cure the cattle of many maladies; that if a piece of it be steeped in the water which cows drink it helps them to calve; and lastly that if the ashes of the log be strewn on the fields it can save the wheat from mildew." in some parts of flanders and france the remains of the yule log were regularly kept in the house under a bed as a protection against thunder and lightning; in berry, when thunder was heard, a member of the family used to take a piece of the log and throw it on the fire, which was believed to avert the lightning. again, in perigord, the charcoal and ashes are carefully collected and kept for healing swollen glands; the part of the trunk which has not been burnt in the fire is used by ploughmen to make the wedge for their plough, because they allege that it causes the seeds to thrive better; and the women keep pieces of it till twelfth night for the sake of their chickens. some people imagine that they will have as many chickens as there are sparks that fly out of the brands of the log when they shake them; and others place the extinct brands under the bed to drive away vermin. in various parts of france the charred log is thought to guard the house against sorcery as well as against lightning. in england the customs and beliefs concerning the yule log used to be similar. on the night of christmas eve, says the antiquary john brand, "our ancestors were wont to light up candles of an uncommon size, called christmas candles, and lay a log of wood upon the fire, called a yule-clog or christmas-block, to illuminate the house, and, as it were, to turn night into day." the old custom was to light the yule log with a fragment of its predecessor, which had been kept throughout the year for the purpose; where it was so kept, the fiend could do no mischief. the remains of the log were also supposed to guard the house against fire and lightning. to this day the ritual of bringing in the yule log is observed with much solemnity among the southern slavs, especially the serbians. the log is usually a block of oak, but sometimes of olive or beech. they seem to think that they will have as many calves, lambs, pigs, and kids as they strike sparks out of the burning log. some people carry a piece of the log out to the fields to protect them against hail. in albania down to recent years it was a common custom to burn a yule log at christmas, and the ashes of the fire were scattered on the fields to make them fertile. the huzuls, a slavonic people of the carpathians, kindle fire by the friction of wood on christmas eve (old style, the fifth of january) and keep it burning till twelfth night. it is remarkable how common the belief appears to have been that the remains of the yule log, if kept throughout the year, had power to protect the house against fire and especially against lightning. as the yule log was frequently of oak, it seems possible that this belief may be a relic of the old aryan creed which associated the oak-tree with the god of thunder. whether the curative and fertilising virtues ascribed to the ashes of the yule log, which are supposed to heal cattle as well as men, to enable cows to calve, and to promote the fruitfulness of the earth, may not be derived from the same ancient source, is a question which deserves to be considered. . the need-fire the fire-festivals hitherto described are all celebrated periodically at certain stated times of the year. but besides these regularly recurring celebrations the peasants in many parts of europe have been wont from time immemorial to resort to a ritual of fire at irregular intervals in seasons of distress and calamity, above all when their cattle were attacked by epidemic disease. no account of the popular european fire-festivals would be complete without some notice of these remarkable rites, which have all the greater claim on our attention because they may perhaps be regarded as the source and origin of all the other fire-festivals; certainly they must date from a very remote antiquity. the general name by which they are known among the teutonic peoples is need-fire. sometimes the need-fire was known as "wild fire," to distinguish it no doubt from the tame fire produced by more ordinary methods. among slavonic peoples it is called "living fire." the history of the custom can be traced from the early middle ages, when it was denounced by the church as a heathen superstition, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, when it was still occasionally practised in various parts of germany, england, scotland, and ireland. among slavonic peoples it appears to have lingered even longer. the usual occasion for performing the rite was an outbreak of plague or cattle-disease, for which the need-fire was believed to be an infallible remedy. the animals which were subjected to it included cows, pigs, horses, and sometimes geese. as a necessary preliminary to the kindling of the need-fire all other fires and lights in the neighbourhood were extinguished, so that not so much as a spark remained alight; for so long as even a night-light burned in a house, it was imagined that the need-fire could not kindle. sometimes it was deemed enough to put out all the fires in the village; but sometimes the extinction extended to neighbouring villages or to a whole parish. in some parts of the highlands of scotland the rule was that all householders who dwelt within the two nearest running streams should put out their lights and fires on the day appointed. usually the need-fire was made in the open air, but in some parts of serbia it was kindled in a dark room; sometimes the place was a cross-way or a hollow in a road. in the highlands of scotland the proper places for performing the rite seem to have been knolls or small islands in rivers. the regular method of producing the need-fire was by the friction of two pieces of wood; it might not be struck by flint and steel. very exceptionally among some south slavs we read of a practice of kindling a need-fire by striking a piece of iron on an anvil. where the wood to be employed is specified, it is generally said to be oak; but on the lower rhine the fire was kindled by the friction of oak-wood or fir-wood. in slavonic countries we hear of poplar, pear, and cornel wood being used for the purpose. often the material is simply described as two pieces of dry wood. sometimes nine different kinds of wood were deemed necessary, but rather perhaps to be burned in the bonfire than to be rubbed together for the production of the need-fire. the particular mode of kindling the need-fire varied in different districts; a very common one was this. two poles were driven into the ground about a foot and a half from each other. each pole had in the side facing the other a socket into which a smooth cross-piece or roller was fitted. the sockets were stuffed with linen, and the two ends of the roller were rammed tightly into the sockets. to make it more inflammable the roller was often coated with tar. a rope was then wound round the roller, and the free ends at both sides were gripped by two or more persons, who by pulling the rope to and fro caused the roller to revolve rapidly, till through the friction the linen in the sockets took fire. the sparks were immediately caught in tow or oakum and waved about in a circle until they burst into a bright glow, when straw was applied to it, and the blazing straw used to kindle the fuel that had been stacked to make the bonfire. often a wheel, sometimes a cart-wheel or even a spinning-wheel, formed part of the mechanism; in aberdeenshire it was called "the muckle wheel"; in the island of mull the wheel was turned from east to west over nine spindles of oak-wood. sometimes we are merely told that two wooden planks were rubbed together. sometimes it was prescribed that the cart-wheel used for fire-making and the axle on which it turned should both be new. similarly it was said that the rope which turned the roller should be new; if possible it should be woven of strands taken from a gallows rope with which people had been hanged, but this was a counsel of perfection rather than a strict necessity. various rules were also laid down as to the kind of persons who might or should make the need-fire. sometimes it was said that the two persons who pulled the rope which twirled the roller should always be brothers or at least bear the same baptismal name; sometimes it was deemed sufficient if they were both chaste young men. in some villages of brunswick people thought that if everybody who lent a hand in kindling the need-fire did not bear the same christian name, they would labour in vain. in silesia the tree employed to produce the need-fire used to be felled by a pair of twin brothers. in the western islands of scotland the fire was kindled by eighty-one married men, who rubbed two great planks against each other, working in relays of nine; in north uist the nine times nine who made the fire were all first-begotten sons, but we are not told whether they were married or single. among the serbians the need-fire is sometimes kindled by a boy and girl between eleven and fourteen years of age, who work stark naked in a dark room; sometimes it is made by an old man and an old woman also in the dark. in bulgaria, too, the makers of need-fire strip themselves of their clothes; in caithness they divested themselves of all kinds of metal. if after long rubbing of the wood no fire was elicited they concluded that some fire must still be burning in the village; so a strict search was made from house to house, any fire that might be found was put out, and the negligent householder punished or upbraided; indeed a heavy fine might be inflicted on him. when the need-fire was at last kindled, the bonfire was lit from it, and as soon as the blaze had somewhat died down, the sick animals were driven over the glowing embers, sometimes in a regular order of precedence, first the pigs, next the cows, and last of all the horses. sometimes they were driven twice or thrice through the smoke and flames, so that occasionally some of them were scorched to death. as soon as all the beasts were through, the young folk would rush wildly at the ashes and cinders, sprinkling and blackening each other with them; those who were most blackened would march in triumph behind the cattle into the village and would not wash themselves for a long time. from the bonfire people carried live embers home and used them to rekindle the fires in their houses. these brands, after being extinguished in water, they sometimes put in the managers at which the cattle fed, and kept them there for a while. ashes from the need-fire were also strewed on the fields to protect the crops against vermin; sometimes they were taken home to be employed as remedies in sickness, being sprinkled on the ailing part or mixed in water and drunk by the patient. in the western islands of scotland and on the adjoining mainland, as soon as the fire on the domestic hearth had been rekindled from the need-fire a pot full of water was set on it, and the water thus heated was afterwards sprinkled upon the people infected with the plague or upon the cattle that were tainted by the murrain. special virtue was attributed to the smoke of the bonfire; in sweden fruit-trees and nets were fumigated with it, in order that the trees might bear fruit and the nets catch fish. in the highlands of scotland the need-fire was accounted a sovereign remedy for witchcraft. in the island of mull, when the fire was kindled as a cure for the murrain, we hear of the rite being accompanied by the sacrifice of a sick heifer, which was cut in pieces and burnt. slavonian and bulgarian peasants conceive cattle-plague as a foul fiend or vampyre which can be kept at bay by interposing a barrier of fire between it and the herds. a similar conception may perhaps have originally everywhere underlain the use of the need-fire as a remedy for the murrain. it appears that in some parts of germany the people did not wait for an outbreak of cattleplague, but, taking time by the forelock, kindled a need-fire annually to prevent the calamity. similarly in poland the peasants are said to kindle fires in the village streets every year on st. rochus's day and to drive the cattle thrice through them in order to protect the beasts against the murrain. we have seen that in the hebrides the cattle were in like manner driven annually round the beltane fires for the same purpose. in some cantons of switzerland children still kindle a need-fire by the friction of wood for the sake of dispelling a mist. lxiii. the interpretation of the fire-festivals . on the fire-festivals in general the foregoing survey of the popular fire-festivals of europe suggests some general observations. in the first place we can hardly help being struck by the resemblance which the ceremonies bear to each other, at whatever time of the year and in whatever part of europe they are celebrated. the custom of kindling great bonfires, leaping over them, and driving cattle through or round them would seem to have been practically universal throughout europe, and the same may be said of the processions or races with blazing torches round fields, orchards, pastures, or cattle-stalls. less widespread are the customs of hurling lighted discs into the air and trundling a burning wheel down hill. the ceremonial of the yule log is distinguished from that of the other fire-festivals by the privacy and domesticity which characterise it; but this distinction may well be due simply to the rough weather of midwinter, which is apt not only to render a public assembly in the open air disagreeable, but also at any moment to defeat the object of the assembly by extinguishing the all-important fire under a downpour of rain or a fall of snow. apart from these local or seasonal differences, the general resemblance between the fire-festivals at all times of the year and in all places is tolerably close. and as the ceremonies themselves resemble each other, so do the benefits which the people expect to reap from them. whether applied in the form of bonfires blazing at fixed points, or of torches carried about from place to place, or of embers and ashes taken from the smouldering heap of fuel, the fire is believed to promote the growth of the crops and the welfare of man and beast, either positively by stimulating them, or negatively by averting the dangers and calamities which threaten them from such causes as thunder and lightning, conflagration, blight, mildew, vermin, sterility, disease, and not least of all witchcraft. but we naturally ask, how did it come about that benefits so great and manifold were supposed to be attained by means so simple? in what way did people imagine that they could procure so many goods or avoid so many ills by the application of fire and smoke, of embers and ashes? two different explanations of the fire-festivals have been given by modern enquirers. on the one hand it has been held that they are sun-charms or magical ceremonies intended, on the principle of imitative magic, to ensure a needful supply of sunshine for men, animals, and plants by kindling fires which mimic on earth the great source of light and heat in the sky. this was the view of wilhelm mannhardt. it may be called the solar theory. on the other hand it has been maintained that the ceremonial fires have no necessary reference to the sun but are simply purificatory in intention, being designed to burn up and destroy all harmful influences, whether these are conceived in a personal form as witches, demons, and monsters, or in an impersonal form as a sort of pervading taint or corruption of the air. this is the view of dr. edward westermarck and apparently of professor eugen mogk. it may be called the purificatory theory. obviously the two theories postulate two very different conceptions of the fire which plays the principal part in the rites. on the one view, the fire, like sunshine in our latitude, is a genial creative power which fosters the growth of plants and the development of all that makes for health and happiness; on the other view, the fire is a fierce destructive power which blasts and consumes all the noxious elements, whether spiritual or material, that menace the life of men, of animals, and of plants. according to the one theory the fire is a stimulant, according to the other it is a disinfectant; on the one view its virtue is positive, on the other it is negative. yet the two explanations, different as they are in the character which they attribute to the fire, are perhaps not wholly irreconcilable. if we assume that the fires kindled at these festivals were primarily intended to imitate the sun's light and heat, may we not regard the purificatory and disinfecting qualities, which popular opinion certainly appears to have ascribed to them, as attributes derived directly from the purificatory and disinfecting qualities of sunshine? in this way we might conclude that, while the imitation of sunshine in these ceremonies was primary and original, the purification attributed to them was secondary and derivative. such a conclusion, occupying an intermediate position between the two opposing theories and recognising an element of truth in both of them, was adopted by me in earlier editions of this work; but in the meantime dr. westermarck has argued powerfully in favour of the purificatory theory alone, and i am bound to say that his arguments carry great weight, and that on a fuller review of the facts the balance of evidence seems to me to incline decidedly in his favour. however, the case is not so clear as to justify us in dismissing the solar theory without discussion, and accordingly i propose to adduce the considerations which tell for it before proceeding to notice those which tell against it. a theory which had the support of so learned and sagacious an investigator as w. mannhardt is entitled to a respectful hearing. . the solar theory of the fire-festivals in an earlier part of this work we saw that savages resort to charms for making sunshine, and it would be no wonder if primitive man in europe did the same. indeed, when we consider the cold and cloudy climate of europe during a great part of the year, we shall find it natural that sun-charms should have played a much more prominent part among the superstitious practices of european peoples than among those of savages who live nearer the equator and who consequently are apt to get in the course of nature more sunshine than they want. this view of the festivals may be supported by various arguments drawn partly from their dates, partly from the nature of the rites, and partly from the influence which they are believed to exert upon the weather and on vegetation. first, in regard to the dates of the festivals it can be no mere accident that two of the most important and widely spread of the festivals are timed to coincide more or less exactly with the summer and winter solstices, that is, with the two turning-points in the sun's apparent course in the sky when he reaches respectively his highest and his lowest elevation at noon. indeed with respect to the midwinter celebration of christmas we are not left to conjecture; we know from the express testimony of the ancients that it was instituted by the church to supersede an old heathen festival of the birth of the sun, which was apparently conceived to be born again on the shortest day of the year, after which his light and heat were seen to grow till they attained their full maturity at midsummer. therefore it is no very far-fetched conjecture to suppose that the yule log, which figures so prominently in the popular celebration of christmas, was originally designed to help the labouring sun of midwinter to rekindle his seemingly expiring light. not only the date of some of the festivals but the manner of their celebration suggests a conscious imitation of the sun. the custom of rolling a burning wheel down a hill, which is often observed at these ceremonies, might well pass for an imitation of the sun's course in the sky, and the imitation would be especially appropriate on midsummer day when the sun's annual declension begins. indeed the custom has been thus interpreted by some of those who have recorded it. not less graphic, it may be said, is the mimicry of his apparent revolution by swinging a burning tar-barrel round a pole. again, the common practice of throwing fiery discs, sometimes expressly said to be shaped like suns, into the air at the festivals may well be a piece of imitative magic. in these, as in so many cases, the magic force may be supposed to take effect through mimicry or sympathy: by imitating the desired result you actually produce it: by counterfeiting the sun's progress through the heavens you really help the luminary to pursue his celestial journey with punctuality and despatch. the name "fire of heaven," by which the midsummer fire is sometimes popularly known, clearly implies a consciousness of a connexion between the earthly and the heavenly flame. again, the manner in which the fire appears to have been originally kindled on these occasions has been alleged in support of the view that it was intended to be a mock-sun. as some scholars have perceived, it is highly probable that at the periodic festivals in former times fire was universally obtained by the friction of two pieces of wood. it is still so procured in some places both at the easter and the midsummer festivals, and it is expressly said to have been formerly so procured at the beltane celebration both in scotland and wales. but what makes it nearly certain that this was once the invariable mode of kindling the fire at these periodic festivals is the analogy of the needfire, which has almost always been produced by the friction of wood, and sometimes by the revolution of a wheel. it is a plausible conjecture that the wheel employed for this purpose represents the sun, and if the fires at the regularly recurring celebrations were formerly produced in the same way, it might be regarded as a confirmation of the view that they were originally sun-charms. in point of fact there is, as kuhn has indicated, some evidence to show that the midsummer fire was originally thus produced. we have seen that many hungarian swine-herds make fire on midsummer eve by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and that they drive their pigs through the fire thus made. at obermedlingen, in swabia, the "fire of heaven," as it was called, was made on st. vitus's day (the fifteenth of june) by igniting a cart-wheel, which, smeared with pitch and plaited with straw, was fastened on a pole twelve feet high, the top of the pole being inserted in the nave of the wheel. this fire was made on the summit of a mountain, and as the flame ascended, the people uttered a set form of words, with eyes and arms directed heavenward. here the fixing of a wheel on a pole and igniting it suggests that originally the fire was produced, as in the case of the need-fire, by the revolution of a wheel. the day on which the ceremony takes place (the fifteenth of june) is near midsummer; and we have seen that in masuren fire is, or used to be, actually made on midsummer day by turning a wheel rapidly about an oaken pole, though it is not said that the new fire so obtained is used to light a bonfire. however, we must bear in mind that in all such cases the use of a wheel may be merely a mechanical device to facilitate the operation of fire-making by increasing the friction; it need not have any symbolical significance. further, the influence which these fires, whether periodic or occasional, are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be cited in support of the view that they are sun-charms, since the effects ascribed to them resemble those of sunshine. thus, the french belief that in a rainy june the lighting of the midsummer bonfires will cause the rain to cease appears to assume that they can disperse the dark clouds and make the sun to break out in radiant glory, drying the wet earth and dripping trees. similarly the use of the need-fire by swiss children on foggy days for the purpose of clearing away the mist may very naturally be interpreted as a sun-charm. in the vosges mountains the people believe that the midsummer fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops. in sweden the warmth or cold of the coming season is inferred from the direction in which the flames of the may day bonfire are blown; if they blow to the south, it will be warm, if to the north, cold. no doubt at present the direction of the flames is regarded merely as an augury of the weather, not as a mode of influencing it. but we may be pretty sure that this is one of the cases in which magic has dwindled into divination. so in the eifel mountains, when the smoke blows towards the corn-fields, this is an omen that the harvest will be abundant. but the older view may have been not merely that the smoke and flames prognosticated, but that they actually produced an abundant harvest, the heat of the flames acting like sunshine on the corn. perhaps it was with this view that people in the isle of man lit fires to windward of their fields in order that the smoke might blow over them. so in south africa, about the month of april, the matabeles light huge fires to the windward of their gardens, "their idea being that the smoke, by passing over the crops, will assist the ripening of them." among the zulus also "medicine is burned on a fire placed to windward of the garden, the fumigation which the plants in consequence receive being held to improve the crop." again, the idea of our european peasants that the corn will grow well as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible, may be interpreted as a remnant of the belief in the quickening and fertilising power of the bonfires. the same belief, it may be argued, reappears in the notion that embers taken from the bonfires and inserted in the fields will promote the growth of the crops, and it may be thought to underlie the customs of sowing flax-seed in the direction in which the flames blow, of mixing the ashes of the bonfire with the seed-corn at sowing, of scattering the ashes by themselves over the field to fertilise it, and of incorporating a piece of the yule log in the plough to make the seeds thrive. the opinion that the flax or hemp will grow as high as the flames rise or the people leap over them belongs clearly to the same class of ideas. again, at konz, on the banks of the moselle, if the blazing wheel which was trundled down the hillside reached the river without being extinguished, this was hailed as a proof that the vintage would be abundant. so firmly was this belief held that the successful performance of the ceremony entitled the villagers to levy a tax upon the owners of the neighbouring vineyards. here the unextinguished wheel might be taken to represent an unclouded sun, which in turn would portend an abundant vintage. so the waggon-load of white wine which the villagers received from the vineyards round about might pass for a payment for the sunshine which they had procured for the grapes. similarly in the vale of glamorgan a blazing wheel used to be trundled down hill on midsummer day, and if the fire were extinguished before the wheel reached the foot of the hill, the people expected a bad harvest; whereas if the wheel kept alight all the way down and continued to blaze for a long time, the farmers looked forward to heavy crops that summer. here, again, it is natural to suppose that the rustic mind traced a direct connexion between the fire of the wheel and the fire of the sun, on which the crops are dependent. but in popular belief the quickening and fertilising influence of the bonfires is not limited to the vegetable world; it extends also to animals. this plainly appears from the irish custom of driving barren cattle through the midsummer fires, from the french belief that the yule log steeped in water helps cows to calve, from the french and serbian notion that there will be as many chickens, calves, lambs, and kids as there are sparks struck out of the yule log, from the french custom of putting the ashes of the bonfires in the fowls' nests to make the hens lay eggs, and from the german practice of mixing the ashes of the bonfires with the drink of cattle in order to make the animals thrive. further, there are clear indications that even human fecundity is supposed to be promoted by the genial heat of the fires. in morocco the people think that childless couples can obtain offspring by leaping over the midsummer bonfire. it is an irish belief that a girl who jumps thrice over the midsummer bonfire will soon marry and become the mother of many children; in flanders women leap over the midsummer fires to ensure an easy delivery; in various parts of france they think that if a girl dances round nine fires she will be sure to marry within the year, and in bohemia they fancy that she will do so if she merely sees nine of the bonfires. on the other hand, in lechrain people say that if a young man and woman, leaping over the midsummer fire together, escape unsmirched, the young woman will not become a mother within twelve months; the flames have not touched and fertilised her. in parts of switzerland and france the lighting of the yule log is accompanied by a prayer that the women may bear children, the she-goats bring forth kids, and the ewes drop lambs. the rule observed in some places that the bonfires should be kindled by the person who was last married seems to belong to the same class of ideas, whether it be that such a person is supposed to receive from, or to impart to, the fire a generative and fertilising influence. the common practice of lovers leaping over the fires hand in hand may very well have originated in a notion that thereby their marriage would be blessed with offspring; and the like motive would explain the custom which obliges couples married within the year to dance to the light of torches. and the scenes of profligacy which appear to have marked the midsummer celebration among the esthonians, as they once marked the celebration of may day among ourselves, may have sprung, not from the mere licence of holiday-makers, but from a crude notion that such orgies were justified, if not required, by some mysterious bond which linked the life of man to the courses of the heavens at this turning-point of the year. at the festivals which we are considering the custom of kindling bonfires is commonly associated with a custom of carrying lighted torches about the fields, the orchards, the pastures, the flocks and the herds; and we can hardly doubt that the two customs are only two different ways of attaining the same object, namely, the benefits which are believed to flow from the fire, whether it be stationary or portable. accordingly if we accept the solar theory of the bonfires, we seem bound to apply it also to the torches; we must suppose that the practice of marching or running with blazing torches about the country is simply a means of diffusing far and wide the genial influence of the sunshine of which these flickering flames are a feeble imitation. in favour of this view it may be said that sometimes the torches are carried about the fields for the express purpose of fertilising them, and with the same intention live coals from the bonfires are sometimes placed in the fields to prevent blight. on the eve of twelfth day in normandy men, women, and children run wildly through the fields and orchards with lighted torches, which they wave about the branches and dash against the trunks of the fruit-trees for the sake of burning the moss and driving away the moles and field-mice. "they believe that the ceremony fulfills the double object of exorcising the vermin whose multiplication would be a real calamity, and of imparting fecundity to the trees, the fields, and even the cattle"; and they imagine that the more the ceremony is prolonged, the greater will be the crop of fruit next autumn. in bohemia they say that the corn will grow as high as they fling the blazing besoms into the air. nor are such notions confined to europe. in corea, a few days before the new year festival, the eunuchs of the palace swing burning torches, chanting invocations the while, and this is supposed to ensure bountiful crops for the next season. the custom of trundling a burning wheel over the fields, which used to be observed in poitou for the express purpose of fertilising them, may be thought to embody the same idea in a still more graphic form; since in this way the mock-sun itself, not merely its light and heat represented by torches, is made actually to pass over the ground which is to receive its quickening and kindly influence. once more, the custom of carrying lighted brands round cattle is plainly equivalent to driving the animals through the bonfire; and if the bonfire is a suncharm, the torches must be so also. . the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals thus far we have considered what may be said for the theory that at the european fire-festivals the fire is kindled as a charm to ensure an abundant supply of sunshine for man and beast, for corn and fruits. it remains to consider what may be said against this theory and in favour of the view that in these rites fire is employed not as a creative but as a cleansing agent, which purifies men, animals, and plants by burning up and consuming the noxious elements, whether material or spiritual, which menace all living things with disease and death. first, then, it is to be observed that the people who practise the fire-customs appear never to allege the solar theory in explanation of them, while on the contrary they do frequently and emphatically put forward the purificatory theory. this is a strong argument in favour of the purificatory and against the solar theory; for the popular explanation of a popular custom is never to be rejected except for grave cause. and in the present case there seems to be no adequate reason for rejecting it. the conception of fire as a destructive agent, which can be turned to account for the consumption of evil things, is so simple and obvious that it could hardly escape the minds even of the rude peasantry with whom these festivals originated. on the other hand the conception of fire as an emanation of the sun, or at all events as linked to it by a bond of physical sympathy, is far less simple and obvious; and though the use of fire as a charm to produce sunshine appears to be undeniable, nevertheless in attempting to explain popular customs we should never have recourse to a more recondite idea when a simpler one lies to hand and is supported by the explicit testimony of the people themselves. now in the case of the fire-festivals the destructive aspect of fire is one upon which the people dwell again and again; and it is highly significant that the great evil against which the fire is directed appears to be witchcraft. again and again we are told that the fires are intended to burn or repel the witches; and the intention is sometimes graphically expressed by burning an effigy of a witch in the fire. hence, when we remember the great hold which the dread of witchcraft has had on the popular european mind in all ages, we may suspect that the primary intention of all these fire-festivals was simply to destroy or at all events get rid of the witches, who were regarded as the causes of nearly all the misfortunes and calamities that befall men, their cattle, and their crops. this suspicion is confirmed when we examine the evils for which the bonfires and torches were supposed to provide a remedy. foremost, perhaps, among these evils we may reckon the diseases of cattle; and of all the ills that witches are believed to work there is probably none which is so constantly insisted on as the harm they do to the herds, particularly by stealing the milk from the cows. now it is significant that the need-fire, which may perhaps be regarded as the parent of the periodic fire-festivals, is kindled above all as a remedy for a murrain or other disease of cattle; and the circumstance suggests, what on general grounds seems probable, that the custom of kindling the need-fire goes back to a time when the ancestors of the european peoples subsisted chiefly on the products of their herds, and when agriculture as yet played a subordinate part in their lives. witches and wolves are the two great foes still dreaded by the herdsman in many parts of europe; and we need not wonder that he should resort to fire as a powerful means of banning them both. among slavonic peoples it appears that the foes whom the need-fire is designed to combat are not so much living witches as vampyres and other evil spirits, and the ceremony aims rather at repelling these baleful beings than at actually consuming them in the flames. but for our present purpose these distinctions are immaterial. the important thing to observe is that among the slavs the need-fire, which is probably the original of all the ceremonial fires now under consideration, is not a sun-charm, but clearly and unmistakably nothing but a means of protecting man and beast against the attacks of maleficent creatures, whom the peasant thinks to burn or scare by the heat of the fire, just as he might burn or scare wild animals. again, the bonfires are often supposed to protect the fields against hail and the homestead against thunder and lightning. but both hail and thunderstorms are frequently thought to be caused by witches; hence the fire which bans the witches necessarily serves at the same time as a talisman against hail, thunder, and lightning. further, brands taken from the bonfires are commonly kept in the houses to guard them against conflagration; and though this may perhaps be done on the principle of homoeopathic magic, one fire being thought to act as a preventive of another, it is also possible that the intention may be to keep witch-incendiaries at bay. again, people leap over the bonfires as a preventive of colic, and look at the flames steadily in order to preserve their eyes in good health; and both colic and sore eyes are in germany, and probably elsewhere, set down to the machinations of witches. once more, to leap over the midsummer fires or to circumambulate them is thought to prevent a person from feeling pains in his back at reaping; and in germany such pains are called "witch-shots" and ascribed to witchcraft. but if the bonfires and torches of the fire-festivals are to be regarded primarily as weapons directed against witches and wizards, it becomes probable that the same explanation applies not only to the flaming discs which are hurled into the air, but also to the burning wheels which are rolled down hill on these occasions; discs and wheels, we may suppose, are alike intended to burn the witches who hover invisible in the air or haunt unseen the fields, the orchards, and the vineyards on the hillside. certainly witches are constantly thought to ride through the air on broomsticks or other equally convenient vehicles; and if they do so, how can you get at them so effectually as by hurling lighted missiles, whether discs, torches, or besoms, after them as they flit past overhead in the gloom? the south slavonian peasant believes that witches ride in the dark hail-clouds; so he shoots at the clouds to bring down the hags, while he curses them, saying, "curse, curse herodias, thy mother is a heathen, damned of god and fettered through the redeemer's blood." also he brings out a pot of glowing charcoal on which he has thrown holy oil, laurel leaves, and wormwood to make a smoke. the fumes are supposed to ascend to the clouds and stupefy the witches, so that they tumble down to earth. and in order that they may not fall soft, but may hurt themselves very much, the yokel hastily brings out a chair and tilts it bottom up so that the witch in falling may break her legs on the legs of the chair. worse than that, he cruelly lays scythes, bill-hooks, and other formidable weapons edge upwards so as to cut and mangle the poor wretches when they drop plump upon them from the clouds. on this view the fertility supposed to follow the application of fire in the form of bonfires, torches, discs, rolling wheels, and so forth, is not conceived as resulting directly from an increase of solar heat which the fire has magically generated; it is merely an indirect result obtained by freeing the reproductive powers of plants and animals from the fatal obstruction of witchcraft. and what is true of the reproduction of plants and animals may hold good also of the fertility of the human sexes. the bonfires are supposed to promote marriage and to procure offspring for childless couples. this happy effect need not flow directly from any quickening or fertilising energy in the fire; it may follow indirectly from the power of the fire to remove those obstacles which the spells of witches and wizards notoriously present to the union of man and wife. on the whole, then, the theory of the purificatory virtue of the ceremonial fires appears more probable and more in accordance with the evidence than the opposing theory of their connexion with the sun. lxiv. the burning of human beings in the fires . the burning of effigies in the fires we have still to ask, what is the meaning of burning effigies in the fire at these festivals? after the preceding investigation the answer to the question seems obvious. as the fires are often alleged to be kindled for the purpose of burning the witches, and as the effigy burnt in them is sometimes called "the witch," we might naturally be disposed to conclude that all the effigies consumed in the flames on these occasions represent witches or warlocks, and that the custom of burning them is merely a substitute for burning the wicked men and women themselves, since on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic you practically destroy the witch herself in destroying her effigy. on the whole this explanation of the burning of straw figures in human shape at the festivals is perhaps the most probable. yet it may be that this explanation does not apply to all the cases, and that certain of them may admit and even require another interpretation. for the effigies so burned, as i have already remarked, can hardly be separated from the effigies of death which are burned or otherwise destroyed in spring; and grounds have been already given for regarding the so-called effigies of death as really representatives of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. are the other effigies, which are burned in the spring and midsummer bonfires, susceptible of the same explanation? it would seem so. for just as the fragments of the so-called death are stuck in the fields to make the crops grow, so the charred embers of the figure burned in the spring bonfires are sometimes laid on the fields in the belief that they will keep vermin from the crop. again, the rule that the last married bride must leap over the fire in which the straw-man is burned on shrove tuesday, is probably intended to make her fruitful. but, as we have seen, the power of blessing women with offspring is a special attribute of tree-spirits; it is therefore a fair presumption that the burning effigy over which the bride must leap is a representative of the fertilising tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. this character of the effigy, as representative of the spirit of vegetation, is almost unmistakable when the figure is composed of an unthreshed sheaf of corn or is covered from head to foot with flowers. again, it is to be noted that, instead of a puppet, trees, either living or felled, are sometimes burned both in the spring and midsummer bonfires. now, considering the frequency with which the tree-spirit is represented in human shape, it is hardly rash to suppose that when sometimes a tree and sometimes an effigy is burned in these fires, the effigy and the tree are regarded as equivalent to each other, each being a representative of the tree-spirit. this, again, is confirmed by observing, first, that sometimes the effigy which is to be burned is carried about simultaneously with a may-tree, the former being carried by the boys, the latter by the girls; and, second, that the effigy is sometimes tied to a living tree and burned with it. in these cases, we can scarcely doubt, the tree-spirit is represented, as we have found it represented before, in duplicate, both by the tree and by the effigy. that the true character of the effigy as a representative of the beneficent spirit of vegetation should sometimes be forgotten, is natural. the custom of burning a beneficent god is too foreign to later modes of thought to escape misinterpretation. naturally enough the people who continued to burn his image came in time to identify it as the effigy of persons, whom, on various grounds, they regarded with aversion, such as judas iscariot, luther, and a witch. the general reasons for killing a god or his representative have been examined in a preceding chapter. but when the god happens to be a deity of vegetation, there are special reasons why he should die by fire. for light and heat are necessary to vegetable growth; and, on the principle of sympathetic magic, by subjecting the personal representative of vegetation to their influence, you secure a supply of these necessaries for trees and crops. in other words, by burning the spirit of vegetation in a fire which represents the sun, you make sure that, for a time at least, vegetation shall have plenty of sun. it may be objected that, if the intention is simply to secure enough sunshine for vegetation, this end would be better attained, on the principles of sympathetic magic, by merely passing the representative of vegetation through the fire instead of burning him. in point of fact this is sometimes done. in russia, as we have seen, the straw figure of kupalo is not burned in the midsummer fire, but merely carried backwards and forwards across it. but, for the reasons already given, it is necessary that the god should die; so next day kupalo is stripped of her ornaments and thrown into a stream. in this russian custom the passage of the image through the fire, if it is not simply a purification, may possibly be a sun-charm; the killing of the god is a separate act, and the mode of killing him--by drowning--is probably a rain-charm. but usually people have not thought it necessary to draw this fine distinction; for the various reasons already assigned, it is advantageous, they think, to expose the god of vegetation to a considerable degree of heat, and it is also advantageous to kill him, and they combine these advantages in a rough-and-ready way by burning him. . the burning of men and animals in the fires in the popular customs connected with the fire-festivals of europe there are certain features which appear to point to a former practice of human sacrifice. we have seen reasons for believing that in europe living persons have often acted as representatives of the tree-spirit and corn-spirit and have suffered death as such. there is no reason, therefore, why they should not have been burned, if any special advantages were likely to be attained by putting them to death in that way. the consideration of human suffering is not one which enters into the calculations of primitive man. now, in the fire-festivals which we are discussing, the pretence of burning people is sometimes carried so far that it seems reasonable to regard it as a mitigated survival of an older custom of actually burning them. thus in aachen, as we saw, the man clad in peas-straw acts so cleverly that the children really believe he is being burned. at jumièges in normandy the man clad all in green, who bore the title of the green wolf, was pursued by his comrades, and when they caught him they feigned to fling him upon the midsummer bonfire. similarly at the beltane fires in scotland the pretended victim was seized, and a show made of throwing him into the flames, and for some time afterwards people affected to speak of him as dead. again, in the hallowe'en bonfires of northeastern scotland we may perhaps detect a similar pretence in the custom observed by a lad of lying down as close to the fire as possible and allowing the other lads to leap over him. the titular king at aix, who reigned for a year and danced the first dance round the midsummer bonfire, may perhaps in days of old have discharged the less agreeable duty of serving as fuel for that fire which in later times he only kindled. in the following customs mannhardt is probably right in recognising traces of an old custom of burning a leaf-clad representative of the spirit of vegetation. at wolfeck, in austria, on midsummer day, a boy completely clad in green fir branches goes from house to house, accompanied by a noisy crew, collecting wood for the bonfire. as he gets the wood he sings: "forest trees i want, no sour milk for me, but beer and wine, so can the wood-man be jolly and gay." in some parts of bavaria, also, the boys who go from house to house collecting fuel for the midsummer bonfire envelop one of their number from head to foot in green branches of firs, and lead him by a rope through the whole village. at moosheim, in wurtemberg, the festival of st. john's fire usually lasted for fourteen days, ending on the second sunday after midsummer day. on this last day the bonfire was left in charge of the children, while the older people retired to a wood. here they encased a young fellow in leaves and twigs, who, thus disguised, went to the fire, scattered it, and trod it out. all the people present fled at the sight of him. but it seems possible to go farther than this. of human sacrifices offered on these occasions the most unequivocal traces, as we have seen, are those which, about a hundred years ago, still lingered at the beltane fires in the highlands of scotland, that is, among a celtic people who, situated in a remote corner of europe and almost completely isolated from foreign influence, had till then conserved their old heathenism better perhaps than any other people in the west of europe. it is significant, therefore, that human sacrifices by fire are known, on unquestionable evidence, to have been systematically practised by the celts. the earliest description of these sacrifices has been bequeathed to us by julius caesar. as conqueror of the hitherto independent celts of gaul, caesar had ample opportunity of observing the national celtic religion and manners, while these were still fresh and crisp from the native mint and had not yet been fused in the melting-pot of roman civilisation. with his own notes caesar appears to have incorporated the observations of a greek explorer, by name posidonius, who travelled in gaul about fifty years before caesar carried the roman arms to the english channel. the greek geographer strabo and the historian diodorus seem also to have derived their descriptions of the celtic sacrifices from the work of posidonius, but independently of each other, and of caesar, for each of the three derivative accounts contain some details which are not to be found in either of the others. by combining them, therefore, we can restore the original account of posidonius with some probability, and thus obtain a picture of the sacrifices offered by the celts of gaul at the close of the second century before our era. the following seem to have been the main outlines of the custom. condemned criminals were reserved by the celts in order to be sacrificed to the gods at a great festival which took place once in every five years. the more there were of such victims, the greater was believed to be the fertility of the land. if there were not enough criminals to furnish victims, captives taken in war were immolated to supply the deficiency. when the time came the victims were sacrificed by the druids or priests. some they shot down with arrows, some they impaled, and some they burned alive in the following manner. colossal images of wicker-work or of wood and grass were constructed; these were filled with live men, cattle, and animals of other kinds; fire was then applied to the images, and they were burned with their living contents. such were the great festivals held once every five years. but besides these quinquennial festivals, celebrated on so grand a scale, and with, apparently, so large an expenditure of human life, it seems reasonable to suppose that festivals of the same sort, only on a lesser scale, were held annually, and that from these annual festivals are lineally descended some at least of the fire-festivals which, with their traces of human sacrifices, are still celebrated year by year in many parts of europe. the gigantic images constructed of osiers or covered with grass in which the druids enclosed their victims remind us of the leafy framework in which the human representative of the tree-spirit is still so often encased. hence, seeing that the fertility of the land was apparently supposed to depend upon the due performance of these sacrifices, mannhardt interpreted the celtic victims, cased in osiers and grass, as representatives of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. these wicker giants of the druids seem to have had till lately, if not down to the present time, their representatives at the spring and midsummer festivals of modern europe. at douay, down at least to the early part of the nineteenth century, a procession took place annually on the sunday nearest to the seventh of july. the great feature of the procession was a colossal figure, some twenty or thirty feet high, made of osiers, and called "the giant," which was moved through the streets by means of rollers and ropes worked by men who were enclosed within the effigy. the figure was armed as a knight with lance and sword, helmet and shield. behind him marched his wife and his three children, all constructed of osiers on the same principle, but on a smaller scale. at dunkirk the procession of the giants took place on midsummer day, the twenty-fourth of june. the festival, which was known as the follies of dunkirk, attracted multitudes of spectators. the giant was a huge figure of wicker-work, occasionally as much as forty-five feet high, dressed in a long blue robe with gold stripes, which reached to his feet, concealing the dozen or more men who made it dance and bob its head to the spectators. this colossal effigy went by the name of papa reuss, and carried in its pocket a bouncing infant of brobdingnagian proportions. the rear was brought up by the daughter of the giant, constructed, like her sire, of wicker-work, and little, if at all, inferior to him in size. most towns and even villages of brabant and flanders have, or used to have, similar wicker giants which were annually led about to the delight of the populace, who loved these grotesque figures, spoke of them with patriotic enthusiasm, and never wearied of gazing at them. at antwerp the giant was so big that no gate in the city was large enough to let him go through; hence he could not visit his brother giants in neighbouring towns, as the other belgian giants used to do on solemn occasions. in england artificial giants seem to have been a standing feature of the midsummer festival. a writer of the sixteenth century speaks of "midsommer pageants in london, where to make the people wonder, are set forth great and uglie gyants marching as if they were alive, and armed at all points, but within they are stuffed full of browne paper and tow, which the shrewd boyes, underpeering, do guilefully discover, and turne to a greate derision." at chester the annual pageant on midsummer eve included the effigies of four giants, with animals, hobby-horses, and other figures. at coventry it appears that the giant's wife figured beside the giant. at burford, in oxfordshire, midsummer eve used to be celebrated with great jollity by the carrying of a giant and a dragon up and down the town. the last survivor of these perambulating english giants lingered at salisbury, where an antiquary found him mouldering to decay in the neglected hall of the tailors' company about the year . his bodily framework was a lath and hoop, like the one which used to be worn by jack-in-the-green on may day. in these cases the giants merely figured in the processions. but sometimes they were burned in the summer bonfires. thus the people of the rue aux ours in paris used annually to make a great wicker-work figure, dressed as a soldier, which they promenaded up and down the streets for several days, and solemnly burned on the third of july, the crowd of spectators singing _salve regina._ a personage who bore the title of king presided over the ceremony with a lighted torch in his hand. the burning fragments of the image were scattered among the people, who eagerly scrambled for them. the custom was abolished in . in brie, isle de france, a wicker-work giant, eighteen feet high, was annually burned on midsummer eve. again, the druidical custom of burning live animals, enclosed in wicker-work, has its counterpart at the spring and midsummer festivals. at luchon in the pyrenees on midsummer eve "a hollow column, composed of strong wicker-work, is raised to the height of about sixty feet in the centre of the principal suburb, and interlaced with green foliage up to the very top; while the most beautiful flowers and shrubs procurable are artistically arranged in groups below, so as to form a sort of background to the scene. the column is then filled with combustible materials, ready for ignition. at an appointed hour--about p.m.--a grand procession, composed of the clergy, followed by young men and maidens in holiday attire, pour forth from the town chanting hymns, and take up their position around the column. meanwhile, bonfires are lit, with beautiful effect, in the surrounding hills. as many living serpents as could be collected are now thrown into the column, which is set on fire at the base by means of torches, armed with which about fifty boys and men dance around with frantic gestures. the serpents, to avoid the flames, wriggle their way to the top, whence they are seen lashing out laterally until finally obliged to drop, their struggles for life giving rise to enthusiastic delight among the surrounding spectators. this is a favourite annual ceremony for the inhabitants of luchon and its neighbourhood, and local tradition assigns it to a heathen origin." in the midsummer fires formerly kindled on the place de grève at paris it was the custom to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats, which was hung from a tall mast in the midst of the bonfire; sometimes a fox was burned. the people collected the embers and ashes of the fire and took them home, believing that they brought good luck. the french kings often witnessed these spectacles and even lit the bonfire with their own hands. in louis the fourteenth, crowned with a wreath of roses and carrying a bunch of roses in his hand, kindled the fire, danced at it and partook of the banquet afterwards in the town hall. but this was the last occasion when a monarch presided at the midsummer bonfire in paris. at metz midsummer fires were lighted with great pomp on the esplanade, and a dozen cats, enclosed in wicker cages, were burned alive in them, to the amusement of the people. similarly at gap, in the department of the high alps, cats used to be roasted over the midsummer bonfire. in russia a white cock was sometimes burned in the midsummer bonfire; in meissen or thuringia a horse's head used to be thrown into it. sometimes animals are burned in the spring bonfires. in the vosges cats were burned on shrove tuesday; in alsace they were thrown into the easter bonfire. in the department of the ardennes cats were flung into the bonfires kindled on the first sunday in lent; sometimes, by a refinement of cruelty, they were hung over the fire from the end of a pole and roasted alive. "the cat, which represented the devil, could never suffer enough." while the creatures were perishing in the flames, the shepherds guarded their flocks and forced them to leap over the fire, esteeming this an infallible means of preserving them from disease and witchcraft. we have seen that squirrels were sometimes burned in the easter fire. thus it appears that the sacrificial rites of the celts of ancient gaul can be traced in the popular festivals of modern europe. naturally it is in france, or rather in the wider area comprised within the limits of ancient gaul, that these rites have left the clearest traces in the customs of burning giants of wicker-work and animals enclosed in wicker-work or baskets. these customs, it will have been remarked, are generally observed at or about midsummer. from this we may infer that the original rites of which these are the degenerate successors were solemnised at midsummer. this inference harmonises with the conclusion suggested by a general survey of european folk-custom, that the midsummer festival must on the whole have been the most widely diffused and the most solemn of all the yearly festivals celebrated by the primitive aryans in europe. at the same time we must bear in mind that among the british celts the chief fire-festivals of the year appear certainly to have been those of beltane (may day) and hallowe'en (the last day of october); and this suggests a doubt whether the celts of gaul also may not have celebrated their principal rites of fire, including their burnt sacrifices of men and animals, at the beginning of may or the beginning of november rather than at midsummer. we have still to ask, what is the meaning of such sacrifices? why were men and animals burnt to death at these festivals? if we are right in interpreting the modern european fire-festivals as attempts to break the power of witchcraft by burning or banning the witches and warlocks, it seems to follow that we must explain the human sacrifices of the celts in the same manner; that is, we must suppose that the men whom the druids burnt in wicker-work images were condemned to death on the ground that they were witches or wizards, and that the mode of execution by fire was chosen because burning alive is deemed the surest mode of getting rid of these noxious and dangerous beings. the same explanation would apply to the cattle and wild animals of many kinds which the celts burned along with the men. they, too, we may conjecture, were supposed to be either under the spell of witchcraft or actually to be the witches and wizards, who had transformed themselves into animals for the purpose of prosecuting their infernal plots against the welfare of their fellow-creatures. this conjecture is confirmed by the observation that the victims most commonly burned in modern bonfires have been cats, and that cats are precisely the animals into which, with the possible exception of hares, witches were most usually supposed to transform themselves. again, we have seen that serpents and foxes used sometimes to be burnt in the midsummer fires; and welsh and german witches are reported to have assumed the form both of foxes and serpents. in short, when we remember the great variety of animals whose forms witches can assume at pleasure, it seems easy on this hypothesis to account for the variety of living creatures that have been burnt at festivals both in ancient gaul and modern europe; all these victims, we may surmise, were doomed to the flames, not because they were animals, but because they were believed to be witches who had taken the shape of animals for their nefarious purposes. one advantage of explaining the ancient celtic sacrifices in this way is that it introduces, as it were, a harmony and consistency into the treatment which europe has meted out to witches from the earliest times down to about two centuries ago, when the growing influence of rationalism discredited the belief in witchcraft and put a stop to the custom of burning witches. be that as it may, we can now perhaps understand why the druids believed that the more persons they sentenced to death, the greater would be the fertility of the land. to a modern reader the connexion at first sight may not be obvious between the activity of the hangman and the productivity of the earth. but a little reflection may satisfy him that when the criminals who perish at the stake or on the gallows are witches, whose delight it is to blight the crops of the farmer or to lay them low under storms of hail, the execution of these wretches is really calculated to ensure an abundant harvest by removing one of the principal causes which paralyse the efforts and blast the hopes of the husbandman. the druidical sacrifices which we are considering were explained in a different way by w. mannhardt. he supposed that the men whom the druids burned in wicker-work images represented the spirits of vegetation, and accordingly that the custom of burning them was a magical ceremony intended to secure the necessary sunshine for the crops. similarly, he seems to have inclined to the view that the animals which used to be burnt in the bonfires represented the cornspirit, which, as we saw in an earlier part of this work, is often supposed to assume the shape of an animal. this theory is no doubt tenable, and the great authority of w. mannhardt entitles it to careful consideration. i adopted it in former editions of this book; but on reconsideration it seems to me on the whole to be less probable than the theory that the men and animals burnt in the fires perished in the character of witches. this latter view is strongly supported by the testimony of the people who celebrate the fire-festivals, since a popular name for the custom of kindling the fires is "burning the witches," effigies of witches are sometimes consumed in the flames, and the fires, their embers, or their ashes are supposed to furnish protection against witchcraft. on the other hand there is little to show that the effigies or the animals burnt in the fires are regarded by the people as representatives of the vegetation-spirit, and that the bonfires are sun-charms. with regard to serpents in particular, which used to be burnt in the midsummer fire at luchon, i am not aware of any certain evidence that in europe snakes have been regarded as embodiments of the tree-spirit or corn-spirit, though in other parts of the world the conception appears to be not unknown. whereas the popular faith in the transformation of witches into animals is so general and deeply rooted, and the fear of these uncanny beings is so strong, that it seems safer to suppose that the cats and other animals which were burnt in the fire suffered death as embodiments of witches than that they perished as representatives of vegetation-spirits. lxv. balder and the mistletoe the reader may remember that the preceding account of the popular fire-festivals of europe was suggested by the myth of the norse god balder, who is said to have been slain by a branch of mistletoe and burnt in a great fire. we have now to enquire how far the customs which have been passed in review help to shed light on the myth. in this enquiry it may be convenient to begin with the mistletoe, the instrument of balder's death. from time immemorial the mistletoe has been the object of superstitious veneration in europe. it was worshipped by the druids, as we learn from a famous passage of pliny. after enumerating the different kinds of mistletoe, he proceeds: "in treating of this subject, the admiration in which the mistletoe is held throughout gaul ought not to pass unnoticed. the druids, for so they call their wizards, esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree on which it grows, provided only that the tree is an oak. but apart from this they choose oak-woods for their sacred groves and perform no sacred rites without oak-leaves; so that the very name of druids may be regarded as a greek appellation derived from their worship of the oak. for they believe that whatever grows on these trees is sent from heaven, and is a sign that the tree has been chosen by the god himself. the mistletoe is very rarely to be met with; but when it is found, they gather it with solemn ceremony. this they do above all on the sixth day of the moon, from whence they date the beginnings of their months, of their years, and of their thirty years' cycle, because by the sixth day the moon has plenty of vigour and has not run half its course. after due preparations have been made for a sacrifice and a feast under the tree, they hail it as the universal healer and bring to the spot two white bulls, whose horns have never been bound before. a priest clad in a white robe climbs the tree and with a golden sickle cuts the mistletoe, which is caught in a white cloth. then they sacrifice the victims, praying that god may make his own gift to prosper with those upon whom he has bestowed it. they believe that a potion prepared from mistletoe will make barren animals to bring forth, and that the plant is a remedy against all poison." in another passage pliny tells us that in medicine the mistletoe which grows on an oak was esteemed the most efficacious, and that its efficacy was by some superstitious people supposed to be increased if the plant was gathered on the first day of the moon without the use of iron, and if when gathered it was not allowed to touch the earth; oak-mistletoe thus obtained was deemed a cure for epilepsy; carried about by women it assisted them to conceive; and it healed ulcers most effectually, if only the sufferer chewed a piece of the plant and laid another piece on the sore. yet, again, he says that mistletoe was supposed, like vinegar and an egg, to be an excellent means of extinguishing a fire. if in these latter passages pliny refers, as he apparently does, to the beliefs current among his contemporaries in italy, it will follow that the druids and the italians were to some extent agreed as to the valuable properties possessed by mistletoe which grows on an oak; both of them deemed it an effectual remedy for a number of ailments, and both of them ascribed to it a quickening virtue, the druids believing that a potion prepared from mistletoe would fertilise barren cattle, and the italians holding that a piece of mistletoe carried about by a woman would help her to conceive a child. further, both peoples thought that if the plant were to exert its medicinal properties it must be gathered in a certain way and at a certain time. it might not be cut with iron, hence the druids cut it with gold; and it might not touch the earth, hence the druids caught it in a white cloth. in choosing the time for gathering the plant, both peoples were determined by observation of the moon; only they differed as to the particular day of the moon, the italians preferring the first, and the druids the sixth. with these beliefs of the ancient gauls and italians as to the wonderful medicinal properties of mistletoe we may compare the similar beliefs of the modern aino of japan. we read that they, "like many nations of the northern origin, hold the mistletoe in peculiar veneration. they look upon it as a medicine, good in almost every disease, and it is sometimes taken in food and at others separately as a decoction. the leaves are used in preference to the berries, the latter being of too sticky a nature for general purposes. . . . but many, too, suppose this plant to have the power of making the gardens bear plentifully. when used for this purpose, the leaves are cut up into fine pieces, and, after having been prayed over, are sown with the millet and other seeds, a little also being eaten with the food. barren women have also been known to eat the mistletoe, in order to be made to bear children. that mistletoe which grows upon the willow is supposed to have the greatest efficacy. this is because the willow is looked upon by them as being an especially sacred tree." thus the aino agree with the druids in regarding mistletoe as a cure for almost every disease, and they agree with the ancient italians that applied to women it helps them to bear children. again, the druidical notion that the mistletoe was an "all-healer" or panacea may be compared with a notion entertained by the walos of senegambia. these people "have much veneration for a sort of mistletoe, which they call _tob;_ they carry leaves of it on their persons when they go to war as a preservative against wounds, just as if the leaves were real talismans (_gris-gris_)." the french writer who records this practice adds: "is it not very curious that the mistletoe should be in this part of africa what it was in the superstitions of the gauls? this prejudice, common to the two countries, may have the same origin; blacks and whites will doubtless have seen, each of them for themselves, something supernatural in a plant which grows and flourishes without having roots in the earth. may they not have believed, in fact, that it was a plant fallen from the sky, a gift of the divinity?" this suggestion as to the origin of the superstition is strongly confirmed by the druidical belief, reported by pliny, that whatever grew on an oak was sent from heaven and was a sign that the tree had been chosen by the god himself. such a belief explains why the druids cut the mistletoe, not with a common knife, but with a golden sickle, and why, when cut, it was not suffered to touch the earth; probably they thought that the celestial plant would have been profaned and its marvellous virtue lost by contact with the ground. with the ritual observed by the druids in cutting the mistletoe we may compare the ritual which in cambodia is prescribed in a similar case. they say that when you see an orchid growing as a parasite on a tamarind tree, you should dress in white, take a new earthenware pot, then climb the tree at noon, break off the plant, put it in the pot and let the pot fall to the ground. after that you make in the pot a decoction which confers the gift of invulnerability. thus just as in africa the leaves of one parasitic plant are supposed to render the wearer invulnerable, so in cambodia a decoction made from another parasitic plant is considered to render the same service to such as make use of it, whether by drinking or washing. we may conjecture that in both places the notion of invulnerability is suggested by the position of the plant, which, occupying a place of comparative security above the ground, appears to promise to its fortunate possessor a similar security from some of the ills that beset the life of man on earth. we have already met with examples of the store which the primitive mind sets on such vantage grounds. whatever may be the origin of these beliefs and practices concerning the mistletoe, certain it is that some of them have their analogies in the folk-lore of modern european peasants. for example, it is laid down as a rule in various parts of europe that mistletoe may not be cut in the ordinary way but must be shot or knocked down with stones from the tree on which it is growing. thus, in the swiss canton of aargau "all parasitic plants are esteemed in a certain sense holy by the country folk, but most particularly so the mistletoe growing on an oak. they ascribe great powers to it, but shrink from cutting it off in the usual manner. instead of that they procure it in the following manner. when the sun is in sagittarius and the moon is on the wane, on the first, third, or fourth day before the new moon, one ought to shoot down with an arrow the mistletoe of an oak and to catch it with the left hand as it falls. such mistletoe is a remedy for every ailment of children." here among the swiss peasants, as among the druids of old, special virtue is ascribed to mistletoe which grows on an oak: it may not be cut in the usual way: it must be caught as it falls to the ground; and it is esteemed a panacea for all diseases, at least of children. in sweden, also, it is a popular superstition that if mistletoe is to possess its peculiar virtue, it must either be shot down out of the oak or knocked down with stones. similarly, "so late as the early part of the nineteenth century, people in wales believed that for the mistletoe to have any power, it must be shot or struck down with stones off the tree where it grew." again, in respect of the healing virtues of mistletoe the opinion of modern peasants, and even of the learned, has to some extent agreed with that of the ancients. the druids appear to have called the plant, or perhaps the oak on which it grew, the "all-healer"; and "all-healer" is said to be still a name of the mistletoe in the modern celtic speech of brittany, wales, ireland, and scotland. on st. john's morning (midsummer morning) peasants of piedmont and lombardy go out to search the oak-leaves for the "oil of st. john," which is supposed to heal all wounds made with cutting instruments. originally, perhaps, the "oil of st. john" was simply the mistletoe, or a decoction made from it. for in holstein the mistletoe, especially oak-mistletoe, is still regarded as a panacea for green wounds and as a sure charm to secure success in hunting; and at lacaune, in the south of france, the old druidical belief in the mistletoe as an antidote to all poisons still survives among the peasantry; they apply the plant to the stomach of the sufferer or give him a decoction of it to drink. again, the ancient belief that mistletoe is a cure for epilepsy has survived in modern times not only among the ignorant but among the learned. thus in sweden persons afflicted with the falling sickness think they can ward off attacks of the malady by carrying about with them a knife which has a handle of oak mistletoe; and in germany for a similar purpose pieces of mistletoe used to be hung round the necks of children. in the french province of bourbonnais a popular remedy for epilepsy is a decoction of mistletoe which has been gathered on an oak on st. john's day and boiled with rye-flour. so at bottesford in lincolnshire a decoction of mistletoe is supposed to be a palliative for this terrible disease. indeed mistletoe was recommended as a remedy for the falling sickness by high medical authorities in england and holland down to the eighteenth century. however, the opinion of the medical profession as to the curative virtues of mistletoe has undergone a radical alteration. whereas the druids thought that mistletoe cured everything, modern doctors appear to think that it cures nothing. if they are right, we must conclude that the ancient and widespread faith in the medicinal virtue of mistletoe is a pure superstition based on nothing better than the fanciful inferences which ignorance has drawn from the parasitic nature of the plant, its position high up on the branch of a tree seeming to protect it from the dangers to which plants and animals are subject on the surface of the ground. from this point of view we can perhaps understand why mistletoe has so long and so persistently been prescribed as a cure for the falling sickness. as mistletoe cannot fall to the ground because it is rooted on the branch of a tree high above the earth, it seems to follow as a necessary consequence that an epileptic patient cannot possibly fall down in a fit so long as he carries a piece of mistletoe in his pocket or a decoction of mistletoe in his stomach. such a train of reasoning would probably be regarded even now as cogent by a large portion of the human species. again the ancient italian opinion that mistletoe extinguishes fire appears to be shared by swedish peasants, who hang up bunches of oak-mistletoe on the ceilings of their rooms as a protection against harm in general and conflagration in particular. a hint as to the way in which mistletoe comes to be possessed of this property is furnished by the epithet "thunder-bosom," which people of the aargau canton in switzerland apply to the plant. for a thunder-besom is a shaggy, bushy excrescence on branches of trees, which is popularly believed to be produced by a flash of lightning; hence in bohemia a thunder-besom burnt in the fire protects the house against being struck by a thunder-bolt. being itself a product of lightning it naturally serves, on homoeopathic principles, as a protection against lightning, in fact as a kind of lightning-conductor. hence the fire which mistletoe in sweden is designed especially to avert from houses may be fire kindled by lightning; though no doubt the plant is equally effective against conflagration in general. again, mistletoe acts as a master-key as well as a lightning-conductor; for it is said to open all locks. but perhaps the most precious of all the virtues of mistletoe is that it affords efficient protection against sorcery and witchcraft. that, no doubt, is the reason why in austria a twig of mistletoe is laid on the threshold as a preventive of nightmare; and it may be the reason why in the north of england they say that if you wish your dairy to thrive you should give your bunch of mistletoe to the first cow that calves after new year's day, for it is well known that nothing is so fatal to milk and butter as witchcraft. similarly in wales, for the sake of ensuring good luck to the dairy, people used to give a branch of mistletoe to the first cow that gave birth to a calf after the first hour of the new year; and in rural districts of wales, where mistletoe abounded, there was always a profusion of it in the farmhouses. when mistletoe was scarce, welsh farmers used to say, "no mistletoe, no luck"; but if there was a fine crop of mistletoe, they expected a fine crop of corn. in sweden mistletoe is diligently sought after on st. john's eve, the people "believing it to be, in a high degree, possessed of mystic qualities; and that if a sprig of it be attached to the ceiling of the dwelling-house, the horse's stall, or the cow's crib, the troll will then be powerless to injure either man or beast." with regard to the time when the mistletoe should be gathered opinions have varied. the druids gathered it above all on the sixth day of the moon, the ancient italians apparently on the first day of the moon. in modern times some have preferred the full moon of march and others the waning moon of winter when the sun is in sagittarius. but the favourite time would seem to be midsummer eve or midsummer day. we have seen that both in france and sweden special virtues are ascribed to mistletoe gathered at midsummer. the rule in sweden is that "mistletoe must be cut on the night of midsummer eve when sun and moon stand in the sign of their might." again, in wales it was believed that a sprig of mistletoe gathered on st. john's eve (midsummer eve), or at any time before the berries appeared, would induce dreams of omen, both good and bad, if it were placed under the pillow of the sleeper. thus mistletoe is one of the many plants whose magical or medicinal virtues are believed to culminate with the culmination of the sun on the longest day of the year. hence it seems reasonable to conjecture that in the eyes of the druids, also, who revered the plant so highly, the sacred mistletoe may have acquired a double portion of its mystic qualities at the solstice in june, and that accordingly they may have regularly cut it with solemn ceremony on midsummer eve. be that as it may, certain it is that the mistletoe, the instrument of balder's death, has been regularly gathered for the sake of its mystic qualities on midsummer eve in scandinavia, balder's home. the plant is found commonly growing on pear-trees, oaks, and other trees in thick damp woods throughout the more temperate parts of sweden. thus one of the two main incidents of balder's myth is reproduced in the great midsummer festival of scandinavia. but the other main incident of the myth, the burning of balder's body on a pyre, has also its counterpart in the bonfires which still blaze, or blazed till lately, in denmark, norway, and sweden on midsummer eve. it does not appear, indeed, that any effigy is burned in these bonfires; but the burning of an effigy is a feature which might easily drop out after its meaning was forgotten. and the name of balder's balefires (_balder's balar_), by which these midsummer fires were formerly known in sweden, puts their connexion with balder beyond the reach of doubt, and makes it probable that in former times either a living representative or an effigy of balder was annually burned in them. midsummer was the season sacred to balder, and the swedish poet tegner, in placing the burning of balder at midsummer, may very well have followed an old tradition that the summer solstice was the time when the good god came to his untimely end. thus it has been shown that the leading incidents of the balder myth have their counterparts in those fire-festivals of our european peasantry which undoubtedly date from a time long prior to the introduction of christianity. the pretence of throwing the victim chosen by lot into the beltane fire, and the similar treatment of the man, the future green wolf, at the midsummer bonfire in normandy, may naturally be interpreted as traces of an older custom of actually burning human beings on these occasions; and the green dress of the green wolf, coupled with the leafy envelope of the young fellow who trod out the midsummer fire at moosheim, seems to hint that the persons who perished at these festivals did so in the character of tree-spirits or deities of vegetation. from all this we may reasonably infer that in the balder myth on the one hand, and the fire-festivals and custom of gathering mistletoe on the other hand, we have, as it were, the two broken and dissevered halves of an original whole. in other words, we may assume with some degree of probability that the myth of balder's death was not merely a myth, that is, a description of physical phenomena in imagery borrowed from human life, but that it was at the same time the story which people told to explain why they annually burned a human representative of the god and cut the mistletoe with solemn ceremony. if i am right, the story of balder's tragic end formed, so to say, the text of the sacred drama which was acted year by year as a magical rite to cause the sun to shine, trees to grow, crops to thrive, and to guard man and beast from the baleful arts of fairies and trolls, of witches and warlocks. the tale belonged, in short, to that class of nature myths which are meant to be supplemented by ritual; here, as so often, myth stood to magic in the relation of theory to practice. but if the victims--the human balders--who died by fire, whether in spring or at midsummer, were put to death as living embodiments of tree-spirits or deities of vegetation, it would seem that balder himself must have been a tree-spirit or deity of vegetation. it becomes desirable, therefore, to determine, if we can, the particular kind of tree or trees, of which a personal representative was burned at the fire-festivals. for we may be quite sure that it was not as a representative of vegetation in general that the victim suffered death. the idea of vegetation in general is too abstract to be primitive. most probably the victim at first represented a particular kind of sacred tree. but of all european trees none has such claims as the oak to be considered as pre-eminently the sacred tree of the aryans. we have seen that its worship is attested for all the great branches of the aryan stock in europe; hence we may certainly conclude that the tree was venerated by the aryans in common before the dispersion, and that their primitive home must have lain in a land which was clothed with forests of oak. now, considering the primitive character and remarkable similarity of the fire-festivals observed by all the branches of the aryan race in europe, we may infer that these festivals form part of the common stock of religious observances which the various peoples carried with them in their wanderings from their old home. but, if i am right, an essential feature of those primitive fire-festivals was the burning of a man who represented the tree-spirit. in view, then, of the place occupied by the oak in the religion of the aryans, the presumption is that the tree so represented at the fire-festivals must originally have been the oak. so far as the celts and lithuanians are concerned, this conclusion will perhaps hardly be contested. but both for them and for the germans it is confirmed by a remarkable piece of religious conservatism. the most primitive method known to man of producing fire is by rubbing two pieces of wood against each other till they ignite; and we have seen that this method is still used in europe for kindling sacred fires such as the need-fire, and that most probably it was formerly resorted to at all the fire-festivals under discussion. now it is sometimes required that the need-fire, or other sacred fire, should be made by the friction of a particular kind of wood; and when the kind of wood is prescribed, whether among celts, germans, or slavs, that wood appears to be generally the oak. but if the sacred fire was regularly kindled by the friction of oak-wood, we may infer that originally the fire was also fed with the same material. in point of fact, it appears that the perpetual fire of vesta at rome was fed with oak-wood, and that oak-wood was the fuel consumed in the perpetual fire which burned under the sacred oak at the great lithuanian sanctuary of romove. further, that oak-wood was formerly the fuel burned in the midsummer fires may perhaps be inferred from the custom, said to be still observed by peasants in many mountain districts of germany, of making up the cottage fire on midsummer day with a heavy block of oak-wood. the block is so arranged that it smoulders slowly and is not finally reduced to charcoal till the expiry of a year. then upon next midsummer day the charred embers of the old log are removed to make room for the new one, and are mixed with the seed-corn or scattered about the garden. this is believed to guard the food cooked on the hearth from witchcraft, to preserve the luck of the house, to promote the growth of the crops, and to keep them from blight and vermin. thus the custom is almost exactly parallel to that of the yule-log, which in parts of germany, france, england, serbia, and other slavonic lands was commonly of oak-wood. the general conclusion is, that at those periodic or occasional ceremonies the ancient aryans both kindled and fed the fire with the sacred oak-wood. but if at these solemn rites the fire was regularly made of oakwood, it follows that any man who was burned in it as a personification of the tree-spirit could have represented no tree but the oak. the sacred oak was thus burned in duplicate; the wood of the tree was consumed in the fire, and along with it was consumed a living man as a personification of the oak-spirit. the conclusion thus drawn for the european aryans in general is confirmed in its special application to the scandinavians by the relation in which amongst them the mistletoe appears to have stood to the burning of the victim in the midsummer fire. we have seen that among scandinavians it has been customary to gather the mistletoe at midsummer. but so far as appears on the face of this custom, there is nothing to connect it with the midsummer fires in which human victims or effigies of them were burned. even if the fire, as seems probable, was originally always made with oak-wood, why should it have been necessary to pull the mistletoe? the last link between the midsummer customs of gathering the mistletoe and lighting the bonfires is supplied by balder's myth, which can hardly be disjoined from the customs in question. the myth suggests that a vital connexion may once have been believed to subsist between the mistletoe and the human representative of the oak who was burned in the fire. according to the myth, balder could be killed by nothing in heaven or earth except the mistletoe; and so long as the mistletoe remained on the oak, he was not only immortal but invulnerable. now, if we suppose that balder was the oak, the origin of the myth becomes intelligible. the mistletoe was viewed as the seat of life of the oak, and so long as it was uninjured nothing could kill or even wound the oak. the conception of the mistletoe as the seat of life of the oak would naturally be suggested to primitive people by the observation that while the oak is deciduous, the mistletoe which grows on it is evergreen. in winter the sight of its fresh foliage among the bare branches must have been hailed by the worshippers of the tree as a sign that the divine life which had ceased to animate the branches yet survived in the mistletoe, as the heart of a sleeper still beats when his body is motionless. hence when the god had to be killed--when the sacred tree had to be burnt--it was necessary to begin by breaking off the mistletoe. for so long as the mistletoe remained intact, the oak (so people might think) was invulnerable; all the blows of their knives and axes would glance harmless from its surface. but once tear from the oak its sacred heart--the mistletoe--and the tree nodded to its fall. and when in later times the spirit of the oak came to be represented by a living man, it was logically necessary to suppose that, like the tree he personated, he could neither be killed nor wounded so long as the mistletoe remained uninjured. the pulling of the mistletoe was thus at once the signal and the cause of his death. on this view the invulnerable balder is neither more nor less than a personification of a mistletoe-bearing oak. the interpretation is confirmed by what seems to have been an ancient italian belief, that the mistletoe can be destroyed neither by fire nor water; for if the parasite is thus deemed indestructible, it might easily be supposed to communicate its own indestructibility to the tree on which it grows, so long as the two remain in conjunction. or, to put the same idea in mythical form, we might tell how the kindly god of the oak had his life securely deposited in the imperishable mistletoe which grew among the branches; how accordingly so long as the mistletoe kept its place there, the deity himself remained invulnerable; and how at last a cunning foe, let into the secret of the god's invulnerability, tore the mistletoe from the oak, thereby killing the oak-god and afterwards burning his body in a fire which could have made no impression on him so long as the incombustible parasite retained its seat among the boughs. but since the idea of a being whose life is thus, in a sense, outside himself, must be strange to many readers, and has, indeed, not yet been recognised in its full bearing on primitive superstition, it will be worth while to illustrate it by examples drawn both from story and custom. the result will be to show that, in assuming this idea as the explanation of balder's relation to the mistletoe, i assume a principle which is deeply engraved on the mind of primitive man. lxvi. the external soul in folk-tales in a former part of this work we saw that, in the opinion of primitive people, the soul may temporarily absent itself from the body without causing death. such temporary absences of the soul are often believed to involve considerable risk, since the wandering soul is liable to a variety of mishaps at the hands of enemies, and so forth. but there is another aspect to this power of disengaging the soul from the body. if only the safety of the soul can be ensured during its absence, there is no reason why the soul should not continue absent for an indefinite time; indeed a man may, on a pure calculation of personal safety, desire that his soul should never return to his body. unable to conceive of life abstractly as a "permanent possibility of sensation" or a "continuous adjustment of internal arrangements to external relations," the savage thinks of it as a concrete material thing of a definite bulk, capable of being seen and handled, kept in a box or jar, and liable to be bruised, fractured, or smashed in pieces. it is not needful that the life, so conceived, should be in the man; it may be absent from his body and still continue to animate him by virtue of a sort of sympathy or action at a distance. so long as this object which he calls his life or soul remains unharmed, the man is well; if it is injured, he suffers; if it is destroyed, he dies. or, to put it otherwise, when a man is ill or dies, the fact is explained by saying that the material object called his life or soul, whether it be in his body or out of it, has either sustained injury or been destroyed. but there may be circumstances in which, if the life or soul remains in the man, it stands a greater chance of sustaining injury than if it were stowed away in some safe and secret place. accordingly, in such circumstances, primitive man takes his soul out of his body and deposits it for security in some snug spot, intending to replace it in his body when the danger is past. or if he should discover some place of absolute security, he may be content to leave his soul there permanently. the advantage of this is that, so long as the soul remains unharmed in the place where he has deposited it, the man himself is immortal; nothing can kill his body, since his life is not in it. evidence of this primitive belief is furnished by a class of folk-tales of which the norse story of "the giant who had no heart in his body" is perhaps the best-known example. stories of this kind are widely diffused over the world, and from their number and the variety of incident and of details in which the leading idea is embodied, we may infer that the conception of an external soul is one which has had a powerful hold on the minds of men at an early stage of history. for folk-tales are a faithful reflection of the world as it appeared to the primitive mind; and we may be sure that any idea which commonly occurs in them, however absurd it may seem to us, must once have been an ordinary article of belief. this assurance, so far as it concerns the supposed power of disengaging the soul from the body for a longer or shorter time, is amply corroborated by a comparison of the folk-tales in question with the actual beliefs and practices of savages. to this we shall return after some specimens of the tales have been given. the specimens will be selected with a view of illustrating both the characteristic features and the wide diffusion of this class of tales. in the first place, the story of the external soul is told, in various forms, by all aryan peoples from hindoostan to the hebrides. a very common form of it is this: a warlock, giant, or other fairyland being is invulnerable and immortal because he keeps his soul hidden far away in some secret place; but a fair princess, whom he holds enthralled in his enchanted castle, wiles his secret from him and reveals it to the hero, who seeks out the warlock's soul, heart, life, or death (as it is variously called), and by destroying it, simultaneously kills the warlock. thus a hindoo story tells how a magician called punchkin held a queen captive for twelve years, and would fain marry her, but she would not have him. at last the queen's son came to rescue her, and the two plotted together to kill punchkin. so the queen spoke the magician fair, and pretended that she had at last made up her mind to marry him. "and do tell me," she said, "are you quite immortal? can death never touch you? and are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?" "it is true," he said, "that i am not as others. far, far away, hundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. in the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six chattees full of water, piled one above another: below the sixth chattee is a small cage, which contains a little green parrot;--on the life of the parrot depends my life;--and if the parrot is killed i must die. it is, however," he added, "impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the country, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround the palm trees, and kill all who approach the place." but the queen's young son overcame all difficulties, and got possession of the parrot. he brought it to the door of the magician's palace, and began playing with it. punchkin, the magician, saw him, and, coming out, tried to persuade the boy to give him the parrot. "give me my parrot!" cried punchkin. then the boy took hold of the parrot and tore off one of his wings; and as he did so the magician's right arm fell off. punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, "give me my parrot!" the prince pulled off the parrot's second wing, and the magician's left arm tumbled off. "give me my parrot!" cried he, and fell on his knees. the prince pulled off the parrot's right leg, the magician's right leg fell off; the prince pulled off the parrot's left leg, down fell the magician's left. nothing remained of him except the trunk and the head; but still he rolled his eyes, and cried, "give me my parrot!" "take your parrot, then," cried the boy; and with that he wrung the bird's neck, and threw it at the magician; and, as he did so, punchkin's head twisted round, and, with a fearful groan, he died! in another hindoo tale an ogre is asked by his daughter, "papa, where do you keep your soul?" "sixteen miles away from this place," he said, "is a tree. round the tree are tigers, and bears, and scorpions, and snakes; on the top of the tree is a very great fat snake; on his head is a little cage; in the cage is a bird; and my soul is in that bird." the end of the ogre is like that of the magician in the previous tale. as the bird's wings and legs are torn off, the ogre's arms and legs drop off; and when its neck is wrung he falls down dead. in a bengalee story it is said that all the ogres dwell in ceylon, and that all their lives are in a single lemon. a boy cuts the lemon in pieces, and all the ogres die. in a siamese or cambodian story, probably derived from india, we are told that thossakan or ravana, the king of ceylon, was able by magic art to take his soul out of his body and leave it in a box at home, while he went to the wars. thus he was invulnerable in battle. when he was about to give battle to rama, he deposited his soul with a hermit called fire-eye, who was to keep it safe for him. so in the fight rama was astounded to see that his arrows struck the king without wounding him. but one of rama's allies, knowing the secret of the king's invulnerability, transformed himself by magic into the likeness of the king, and going to the hermit asked back his soul. on receiving it he soared up into the air and flew to rama, brandishing the box and squeezing it so hard that all the breath left the king of ceylon's body, and he died. in a bengalee story a prince going into a far country planted with his own hands a tree in the courtyard of his father's palace, and said to his parents, "this tree is my life. when you see the tree green and fresh, then know that it is well with me; when you see the tree fade in some parts, then know that i am in an ill case; and when you see the whole tree fade, then know that i am dead and gone." in another indian tale a prince, setting forth on his travels, left behind him a barley plant, with instructions that it should be carefully tended and watched; for if it flourished, he would be alive and well, but if it drooped, then some mischance was about to happen to him. and so it fell out. for the prince was beheaded, and as his head rolled off, the barley plant snapped in two and the ear of barley fell to the ground. in greek tales, ancient and modern, the idea of an external soul is not uncommon. when meleager was seven days old, the fates appeared to his mother and told her that meleager would die when the brand which was blazing on the hearth had burnt down. so his mother snatched the brand from the fire and kept it in a box. but in after-years, being enraged at her son for slaying her brothers, she burnt the brand in the fire and meleager expired in agonies, as if flames were preying on his vitals. again, nisus king of megara had a purple or golden hair on the middle of his head, and it was fated that whenever the hair was pulled out the king should die. when megara was besieged by the cretans, the king's daughter scylla fell in love with minos, their king, and pulled out the fatal hair from her father's head. so he died. in a modern greek folk-tale a man's strength lies in three golden hairs on his head. when his mother pulls them out, he grows weak and timid and is slain by his enemies. in another modern greek story the life of an enchanter is bound up with three doves which are in the belly of a wild boar. when the first dove is killed, the magician grows sick; when the second is killed, he grows very sick; and when the third is killed, he dies. in another greek story of the same sort an ogre's strength is in three singing birds which are in a wild boar. the hero kills two of the birds, and then coming to the ogre's house finds him lying on the ground in great pain. he shows the third bird to the ogre, who begs that the hero will either let it fly away or give it to him to eat. but the hero wrings the bird's neck, and the ogre dies on the spot. in a modern roman version of "aladdin and the wonderful lamp," the magician tells the princess, whom he holds captive in a floating rock in mid-ocean, that he will never die. the princess reports this to the prince her husband, who has come to rescue her. the prince replies, "it is impossible but that there should be some one thing or other that is fatal to him; ask him what that one fatal thing is." so the princess asked the magician, and he told her that in the wood was a hydra with seven heads; in the middle head of the hydra was a leveret, in the head of the leveret was a bird, in the bird's head was a precious stone, and if this stone were put under his pillow he would die. the prince procured the stone, and the princess laid it under the magician's pillow. no sooner did the enchanter lay his head on the pillow than he gave three terrible yells, turned himself round and round three times, and died. stories of the same sort are current among slavonic peoples. thus a russian story tells how a warlock called koshchei the deathless carried off a princess and kept her prisoner in his golden castle. however, a prince made up to her one day as she was walking alone and disconsolate in the castle garden, and cheered by the prospect of escaping with him she went to the warlock and coaxed him with false and flattering words, saying, "my dearest friend, tell me, i pray you, will you never die?" "certainly not," says he. "well," says she, "and where is your death? is it in your dwelling?" "to be sure it is," says he, "it is in the broom under the threshold." thereupon the princess seized the broom and threw it on the fire, but although the broom burned, the deathless koshchei remained alive; indeed not so much as a hair of him was singed. balked in her first attempt, the artful hussy pouted and said, "you do not love me true, for you have not told me where your death is; yet i am not angry, but love you with all my heart." with these fawning words she besought the warlock to tell her truly where his death was. so he laughed and said, "why do you wish to know? well then, out of love i will tell you where it lies. in a certain field there stand three green oaks, and under the roots of the largest oak is a worm, and if ever this worm is found and crushed, that instant i shall die." when the princess heard these words, she went straight to her lover and told him all; and he searched till he found the oaks and dug up the worm and crushed it. then he hurried to the warlock's castle, but only to learn from the princess that the warlock was still alive. then she fell to wheedling and coaxing koshchei once more, and this time, overcome by her wiles, he opened his heart to her and told her the truth. "my death," said he, "is far from here and hard to find, on the wide ocean. in that sea is an island, and on the island there grows a green oak, and beneath the oak is an iron chest, and in the chest is a small basket, and in the basket is a hare, and in the hare is a duck, and in the duck is an egg; and he who finds the egg and breaks it, kills me at the same time." the prince naturally procured the fateful egg and with it in his hands he confronted the deathless warlock. the monster would have killed him, but the prince began to squeeze the egg. at that the warlock shrieked with pain, and turning to the false princess, who stood by smirking and smiling, "was it not out of love for you," said he, "that i told you where my death was? and is this the return you make to me?" with that he grabbed at his sword, which hung from a peg on the wall; but before he could reach it, the prince had crushed the egg, and sure enough the deathless warlock found his death at the same moment. "in one of the descriptions of koshchei's death, he is said to be killed by a blow on the forehead inflicted by the mysterious egg--that last link in the magic chain by which his life is darkly bound. in another version of the same story, but told of a snake, the fatal blow is struck by a small stone found in the yolk of an egg, which is inside a duck, which is inside a hare, which is inside a stone, which is on an island." amongst peoples of the teutonic stock stories of the external soul are not wanting. in a tale told by the saxons of transylvania it is said that a young man shot at a witch again and again. the bullets went clean through her but did her no harm, and she only laughed and mocked at him. "silly earthworm," she cried, "shoot as much as you like. it does me no harm. for know that my life resides not in me but far, far away. in a mountain is a pond, on the pond swims a duck, in the duck is an egg, in the egg burns a light, that light is my life. if you could put out that light, my life would be at an end. but that can never, never be." however, the young man got hold of the egg, smashed it, and put out the light, and with it the witch's life went out also. in a german story a cannibal called body without soul or soulless keeps his soul in a box, which stands on a rock in the middle of the red sea. a soldier gets possession of the box and goes with it to soulless, who begs the soldier to give him back his soul. but the soldier opens the box, takes out the soul, and flings it backward over his head. at the same moment the cannibal drops dead to the ground. in another german story and old warlock lives with a damsel all alone in the midst of a vast and gloomy wood. she fears that being old he may die and leave her alone in the forest. but he reassures her. "dear child," he said, "i cannot die, and i have no heart in my breast." but she importuned him to tell her where his heart was. so he said, "far, far from here in an unknown and lonesome land stands a great church. the church is well secured with iron doors, and round about it flows a broad deep moat. in the church flies a bird and in the bird is my heart. so long as the bird lives, i live. it cannot die of itself, and no one can catch it; therefore i cannot die, and you need have no anxiety." however the young man, whose bride the damsel was to have been before the warlock spirited her away, contrived to reach the church and catch the bird. he brought it to the damsel, who stowed him and it away under the warlock's bed. soon the old warlock came home. he was ailing, and said so. the girl wept and said, "alas, daddy is dying; he has a heart in his breast after all." "child," replied the warlock, "hold your tongue. i _can't_ die. it will soon pass over." at that the young man under the bed gave the bird a gentle squeeze; and as he did so, the old warlock felt very unwell and sat down. then the young man gripped the bird tighter, and the warlock fell senseless from his chair. "now squeeze him dead," cried the damsel. her lover obeyed, and when the bird was dead, the old warlock also lay dead on the floor. in the norse tale of "the giant who had no heart in his body," the giant tells the captive princess, "far, far away in a lake lies an island, on that island stands a church, in that church is a well, in that well swims a duck, in that duck there is an egg, and in that egg there lies my heart." the hero of the tale, with the help of some animals to whom he had been kind, obtains the egg and squeezes it, at which the giant screams piteously and begs for his life. but the hero breaks the egg in pieces and the giant at once bursts. in another norse story a hill-ogre tells the captive princess that she will never be able to return home unless she finds the grain of sand which lies under the ninth tongue of the ninth head of a certain dragon; but if that grain of sand were to come over the rock in which the ogres live, they would all burst "and the rock itself would become a gilded palace, and the lake green meadows." the hero finds the grain of sand and takes it to the top of the high rock in which the ogres live. so all the ogres burst and the rest falls out as one of the ogres had foretold. in a celtic tale, recorded in the west highlands of scotland, a giant is questioned by a captive queen as to where he keeps his soul. at last, after deceiving her several times, he confides to her the fatal secret: "there is a great flagstone under the threshold. there is a wether under the flag. there is a duck in the wether's belly, and an egg in the belly of the duck, and it is in the egg that my soul is." on the morrow when the giant was gone, the queen contrived to get possession of the egg and crushed it in her hands, and at that very moment the giant, who was coming home in the dusk, fell down dead. in another celtic tale, a sea beast has carried off a king's daughter, and an old smith declares that there is no way of killing the beast but one. "in the island that is in the midst of the loch is eillid chaisfhion--the white-footed hind, of the slenderest legs, and the swiftest step, and though she should be caught, there would spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there would spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the beast is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, the beast is dead." as usual the egg is broken and the beast dies. in an irish story we read how a giant kept a beautiful damsel a prisoner in his castle on the top of a hill, which was white with the bones of the champions who had tried in vain to rescue the fair captive. at last the hero, after hewing and slashing at the giant all to no purpose, discovered that the only way to kill him was to rub a mole on the giant's right breast with a certain egg, which was in a duck, which was in a chest, which lay locked and bound at the bottom of the sea. with the help of some obliging animals, the hero made himself master of the precious egg and slew the giant by merely striking it against the mole on his right breast. similarly in a breton story there figures a giant whom neither fire nor water nor steel can harm. he tells his seventh wife, whom he has just married after murdering all her predecessors, "i am immortal, and no one can hurt me unless he crushes on my breast an egg, which is in a pigeon, which is in the belly of a hare; this hare is in the belly of a wolf, and this wolf is in the belly of my brother, who dwells a thousand leagues from here. so i am quite easy on that score." a soldier contrived to obtain the egg and crush it on the breast of the giant, who immediately expired. in another breton tale the life of a giant resides in an old box-tree which grows in his castle garden; and to kill him it is necessary to sever the tap-root of the tree at a single blow of an axe without injuring any of the lesser roots. this task the hero, as usual, successfully accomplishes, and at the same moment the giant drops dead. the notion of an external soul has now been traced in folk-tales told by aryan peoples from india to ireland. we have still to show that the same idea occurs commonly in the popular stories of peoples who do not belong to the aryan stock. in the ancient egyptian tale of "the two brothers," which was written down in the reign of rameses ii., about b.c., we read how one of the brothers enchanted his heart and placed it in the flower of an acacia tree, and how, when the flower was cut at the instigation of his wife, he immediately fell down dead, but revived when his brother found the lost heart in the berry of the acacia and threw it into a cup of fresh water. in the story of seyf el-mulook in the _arabian nights_ the jinnee tells the captive daughter of the king of india, "when i was born, the astrologers declared that the destruction of my soul would be effected by the hand of one of the sons of the human kings. i therefore took my soul, and put it into the crop of a sparrow, and i imprisoned the sparrow in a little box, and put this into another small box, and this i put within seven other small boxes, and i put these within seven chests, and the chests i put into a coffer of marble within the verge of this circumambient ocean; for this part is remote from the countries of mankind, and none of mankind can gain access to it." but seyf el-mulook got possession of the sparrow and strangled it, and the jinnee fell upon the ground a heap of black ashes. in a kabyle story an ogre declares that his fate is far away in an egg, which is in a pigeon, which is in a camel, which is in the sea. the hero procures the egg and crushes it between his hands, and the ogre dies. in a magyar folk-tale, an old witch detains a young prince called ambrose in the bowels of the earth. at last she confided to him that she kept a wild boar in a silken meadow, and if it were killed, they would find a hare inside, and inside the hare a pigeon, and inside the pigeon a small box, and inside the box one black and one shining beetle: the shining beetle held her life, and the black one held her power; if these two beetles died, then her life would come to an end also. when the old hag went out, ambrose killed the wild boar, and took out the hare; from the hare he took the pigeon, from the pigeon the box, and from the box the two beetles; he killed the black beetle, but kept the shining one alive. so the witch's power left her immediately, and when she came home, she had to take to her bed. having learned from her how to escape from his prison to the upper air, ambrose killed the shining beetle, and the old hag's spirit left her at once. in a kalmuck tale we read how a certain khan challenged a wise man to show his skill by stealing a precious stone on which the khan's life depended. the sage contrived to purloin the talisman while the khan and his guards slept; but not content with this he gave a further proof of his dexterity by bonneting the slumbering potentate with a bladder. this was too much for the khan. next morning he informed the sage that he could overlook everything else, but that the indignity of being bonneted with a bladder was more than he could bear; and he ordered his facetious friend to instant execution. pained at this exhibition of royal ingratitude, the sage dashed to the ground the talisman which he still held in his hand; and at the same instant blood flowed from the nostrils of the khan, and he gave up the ghost. in a tartar poem two heroes named ak molot and bulat engage in mortal combat. ak molot pierces his foe through and through with an arrow, grapples with him, and dashes him to the ground, but all in vain, bulat could not die. at last when the combat has lasted three years, a friend of ak molot sees a golden casket hanging by a white thread from the sky, and bethinks him that perhaps this casket contains bulat's soul. so he shot through the white thread with an arrow, and down fell the casket. he opened it, and in the casket sat ten white birds, and one of the birds was bulat's soul. bulat wept when he saw that his soul was found in the casket. but one after the other the birds were killed, and then ak molot easily slew his foe. in another tartar poem, two brothers going to fight two other brothers take out their souls and hide them in the form of a white herb with six stalks in a deep pit. but one of their foes sees them doing so and digs up their souls, which he puts into a golden ram's horn, and then sticks the ram's horn in his quiver. the two warriors whose souls have thus been stolen know that they have no chance of victory, and accordingly make peace with their enemies. in another tartar poem a terrible demon sets all the gods and heroes at defiance. at last a valiant youth fights the demon, binds him hand and foot, and slices him with his sword. but still the demon is not slain. so the youth asked him, "tell me, where is your soul hidden? for if your soul had been hidden in your body, you must have been dead long ago." the demon replied, "on the saddle of my horse is a bag. in the bag is a serpent with twelve heads. in the serpent is my soul. when you have killed the serpent, you have killed me also." so the youth took the saddle-bag from the horse and killed the twelve-headed serpent, whereupon the demon expired. in another tartar poem a hero called kök chan deposits with a maiden a golden ring, in which is half his strength. afterwards when kök chan is wrestling long with a hero and cannot kill him, a woman drops into his mouth the ring which contains half his strength. thus inspired with fresh force he slays his enemy. in a mongolian story the hero joro gets the better of his enemy the lama tschoridong in the following way. the lama, who is an enchanter, sends out his soul in the form of a wasp to sting joro's eyes. but joro catches the wasp in his hand, and by alternately shutting and opening his hand he causes the lama alternately to lose and recover consciousness. in a tartar poem two youths cut open the body of an old witch and tear out her bowels, but all to no purpose, she still lives. on being asked where her soul is, she answers that it is in the middle of her shoe-sole in the form of a seven-headed speckled snake. so one of the youths slices her shoe-sole with his sword, takes out the speckled snake, and cuts off its seven heads. then the witch dies. another tartar poem describes how the hero kartaga grappled with the swan-woman. long they wrestled. moons waxed and waned and still they wrestled; years came and went, and still the struggle went on. but the piebald horse and the black horse knew that the swan-woman's soul was not in her. under the black earth flow nine seas; where the seas meet and form one, the sea comes to the surface of the earth. at the mouth of the nine seas rises a rock of copper; it rises to the surface of the ground, it rises up between heaven and earth, this rock of copper. at the foot of the copper rock is a black chest, in the black chest is a golden casket, and in the golden casket is the soul of the swan-woman. seven little birds are the soul of the swan-woman; if the birds are killed the swan-woman will die straightway. so the horses ran to the foot of the copper rock, opened the black chest, and brought back the golden casket. then the piebald horse turned himself into a bald-headed man, opened the golden casket, and cut off the heads of the seven birds. so the swan-woman died. in another tartar poem the hero, pursuing his sister who has driven away his cattle, is warned to desist from the pursuit because his sister has carried away his soul in a golden sword and a golden arrow, and if he pursues her she will kill him by throwing the golden sword or shooting the golden arrow at him. a malay poem relates how once upon a time in the city of indrapoora there was a certain merchant who was rich and prosperous, but he had no children. one day as he walked with his wife by the river they found a baby girl, fair as an angel. so they adopted the child and called her bidasari. the merchant caused a golden fish to be made, and into this fish he transferred the soul of his adopted daughter. then he put the golden fish in a golden box full of water, and hid it in a pond in the midst of his garden. in time the girl grew to be a lovely woman. now the king of indrapoora had a fair young queen, who lived in fear that the king might take to himself a second wife. so, hearing of the charms of bidasari, the queen resolved to put her out of the way. she lured the girl to the palace and tortured her cruelly; but bidasari could not die, because her soul was not in her. at last she could stand the torture no longer and said to the queen, "if you wish me to die, you must bring the box which is in the pond in my father's garden." so the box was brought and opened, and there was the golden fish in the water. the girl said, "my soul is in that fish. in the morning you must take the fish out of the water, and in the evening you must put it back into the water. do not let the fish lie about, but bind it round your neck. if you do this, i shall soon die." so the queen took the fish out of the box and fastened it round her neck; and no sooner had she done so than bidasari fell into a swoon. but in the evening, when the fish was put back into the water, bidasari came to herself again. seeing that she thus had the girl in her power, the queen sent her home to her adopted parents. to save her from further persecution her parents resolved to remove their daughter from the city. so in a lonely and desolate spot they built a house and brought bidasari thither. there she dwelt alone, undergoing vicissitudes that corresponded with the vicissitudes of the golden fish in which was her soul. all day long, while the fish was out of the water, she remained unconscious; but in the evening, when the fish was put into the water, she revived. one day the king was out hunting, and coming to the house where bidasari lay unconscious, was smitten with her beauty. he tried to waken her, but in vain. next day, towards evening, he repeated his visit, but still found her unconscious. however, when darkness fell, she came to herself and told the king the secret of her life. so the king returned to the palace, took the fish from the queen, and put it in water. immediately bidasari revived, and the king took her to wife. another story of an external soul comes from nias, an island to the west of sumatra. once on a time a chief was captured by his enemies, who tried to put him to death but failed. water would not drown him nor fire burn him nor steel pierce him. at last his wife revealed the secret. on his head he had a hair as hard as a copper wire; and with this wire his life was bound up. so the hair was plucked out, and with it his spirit fled. a west african story from southern nigeria relates how a king kept his soul in a little brown bird, which perched on a tall tree beside the gate of the palace. the king's life was so bound up with that of the bird that whoever should kill the bird would simultaneously kill the king and succeed to the kingdom. the secret was betrayed by the queen to her lover, who shot the bird with an arrow and thereby slew the king and ascended the vacant throne. a tale told by the ba-ronga of south africa sets forth how the lives of a whole family were contained in one cat. when a girl of the family, named titishan, married a husband, she begged her parents to let her take the precious cat with her to her new home. but they refused, saying, "you know that our life is attached to it"; and they offered to give her an antelope or even an elephant instead of it. but nothing would satisfy her but the cat. so at last she carried it off with her and shut it up in a place where nobody saw it; even her husband knew nothing about it. one day, when she went to work in the fields, the cat escaped from its place of concealment, entered the hut, put on the warlike trappings of the husband, and danced and sang. some children, attracted by the noise, discovered the cat at its antics, and when they expressed their astonishment, the animal only capered the more and insulted them besides. so they went to the owner and said, "there is somebody dancing in your house, and he insulted us." "hold your tongues," said he, "i'll soon put a stop to your lies." so he went and hid behind the door and peeped in, and there sure enough was the cat prancing about and singing. he fired at it, and the animal dropped down dead. at the same moment his wife fell to the ground in the field where she was at work; said she, "i have been killed at home." but she had strength enough left to ask her husband to go with her to her parents' village, taking with him the dead cat wrapt up in a mat. all her relatives assembled, and bitterly they reproached her for having insisted on taking the animal with her to her husband's village. as soon as the mat was unrolled and they saw the dead cat, they all fell down lifeless one after the other. so the clan of the cat was destroyed; and the bereaved husband closed the gate of the village with a branch, and returned home, and told his friends how in killing the cat he had killed the whole clan, because their lives depended on the life of the cat. ideas of the same sort meet us in stories told by the north american indians. thus the navajoes tell of a certain mythical being called "the maiden that becomes a bear," who learned the art of turning herself into a bear from the prairie wolf. she was a great warrior and quite invulnerable; for when she went to war she took out her vital organs and hid them, so that no one could kill her; and when the battle was over she put the organs back in their places again. the kwakiutl indians of british columbia tell of an ogress, who could not be killed because her life was in a hemlock branch. a brave boy met her in the woods, smashed her head with a stone, scattered her brains, broke her bones, and threw them into the water. then, thinking he had disposed of the ogress, he went into her house. there he saw a woman rooted to the floor, who warned him, saying, "now do not stay long. i know that you have tried to kill the ogress. it is the fourth time that somebody has tried to kill her. she never dies; she has nearly come to life. there in that covered hemlock branch is her life. go there, and as soon as you see her enter, shoot her life. then she will be dead." hardly had she finished speaking when sure enough in came the ogress, singing as she walked. but the boy shot at her life, and she fell dead to the floor. lxvii. the external soul in folk-custom . the external soul in inanimate things thus the idea that the soul may be deposited for a longer or shorter time in some place of security outside the body, or at all events in the hair, is found in the popular tales of many races. it remains to show that the idea is not a mere figment devised to adorn a tale, but is a real article of primitive faith, which has given rise to a corresponding set of customs. we have seen that in the tales the hero, as a preparation for battle, sometimes removes his soul from his body, in order that his body may be invulnerable and immortal in the combat. with a like intention the savage removes his soul from his body on various occasions of real or imaginary peril. thus among the people of minahassa in celebes, when a family moves into a new house, a priest collects the souls of the whole family in a bag, and afterwards restores them to their owners, because the moment of entering a new house is supposed to be fraught with supernatural danger. in southern celebes, when a woman is brought to bed, the messenger who fetches the doctor or the midwife always carries with him something made of iron, such as a chopping-knife, which he delivers to the doctor. the doctor must keep the thing in his house till the confinement is over, when he gives it back, receiving a fixed sum of money for doing so. the chopping-knife, or whatever it is, represents the woman's soul, which at this critical time is believed to be safer out of her body than in it. hence the doctor must take great care of the object; for were it lost, the woman's soul would assuredly, they think, be lost with it. among the dyaks of pinoeh, a district of south-eastern borneo, when a child is born, a medicine-man is sent for, who conjures the soul of the infant into half a coco-nut, which he thereupon covers with a cloth and places on a square platter or charger suspended by cords from the roof. this ceremony he repeats at every new moon for a year. the intention of the ceremony is not explained by the writer who describes it, but we may conjecture that it is to place the soul of the child in a safer place than its own frail little body. this conjecture is confirmed by the reason assigned for a similar custom observed elsewhere in the indian archipelago. in the kei islands, when there is a newly-born child in a house, an empty coco-nut, split and spliced together again, may sometimes be seen hanging beside a rough wooden image of an ancestor. the soul of the infant is believed to be temporarily deposited in the coco-nut in order that it may be safe from the attacks of evil spirits; but when the child grows bigger and stronger, the soul will take up its permanent abode in its own body. similarly among the esquimaux of alaska, when a child is sick, the medicine-man will sometimes extract its soul from its body and place it for safe-keeping in an amulet, which for further security he deposits in his own medicine-bag. it seems probable that many amulets have been similarly regarded as soul-boxes, that is, as safes in which the souls of the owners are kept for greater security. an old mang'anje woman in the west shire district of british central africa used to wear round her neck an ivory ornament, hollow, and about three inches long, which she called her life or soul. naturally, she would not part with it; a planter tried to buy it of her, but in vain. when mr. james macdonald was one day sitting in the house of a hlubi chief, awaiting the appearance of that great man, who was busy decorating his person, a native pointed to a pair of magnificent ox-horns, and said, "ntame has his soul in these horns." the horns were those of an animal which had been sacrificed, and they were held sacred. a magician had fastened them to the roof to protect the house and its inmates from the thunder-bolt. "the idea," adds mr. macdonald, "is in no way foreign to south african thought. a man's soul there may dwell in the roof of his house, in a tree, by a spring of water, or on some mountain scaur." among the natives of the gazelle peninsula in new britain there is a secret society which goes by the name of ingniet or ingiet. on his entrance into it every man receives a stone in the shape either of a human being or of an animal, and henceforth his soul is believed to be knit up in a manner with the stone. if it breaks, it is an evil omen for him; they say that the thunder has struck the stone and that he who owns it will soon die. if nevertheless the man survives the breaking of his soul-stone, they say that it was not a proper soul-stone and he gets a new one instead. the emperor romanus lecapenus was once informed by an astronomer that the life of simeon, prince of bulgaria, was bound up with a certain column in constantinople, so that if the capital of the column were removed, simeon would immediately die. the emperor took the hint and removed the capital, and at the same hour, as the emperor learned by enquiry, simeon died of heart disease in bulgaria. again, we have seen that in folk-tales a man's soul or strength is sometimes represented as bound up with his hair, and that when his hair is cut off he dies or grows weak. so the natives of amboyna used to think that their strength was in their hair and would desert them if it were shorn. a criminal under torture in a dutch court of that island persisted in denying his guilt till his hair was cut off, when he immediately confessed. one man, who was tried for murder, endured without flinching the utmost ingenuity of his torturers till he saw the surgeon standing with a pair of shears. on asking what this was for, and being told that it was to cut his hair, he begged they would not do it, and made a clean breast. in subsequent cases, when torture failed to wring a confession from a prisoner, the dutch authorities made a practice of cutting off his hair. here in europe it used to be thought that the maleficent powers of witches and wizards resided in their hair, and that nothing could make any impression on the miscreants so long as they kept their hair on. hence in france it was customary to shave the whole bodies of persons charged with sorcery before handing them over to the torturer. millaeus witnessed the torture of some persons at toulouse, from whom no confession could be wrung until they were stripped and completely shaven, when they readily acknowledged the truth of the charge. a woman also, who apparently led a pious life, was put to the torture on suspicion of witchcraft, and bore her agonies with incredible constancy, until complete depilation drove her to admit her guilt. the noted inquisitor sprenger contented himself with shaving the head of the suspected witch or wizard; but his more thoroughgoing colleague cumanus shaved the whole bodies of forty-seven women before committing them all to the flames. he had high authority for this rigorous scrutiny, since satan himself, in a sermon preached from the pulpit of north berwick church, comforted his many servants by assuring them that no harm could befall them "sa lang as their hair wes on, and sould newir latt ane teir fall fra thair ene." similarly in bastar, a province of india, "if a man is adjudged guilty of witchcraft, he is beaten by the crowd, his hair is shaved, the hair being supposed to constitute his power of mischief, his front teeth are knocked out, in order, it is said, to prevent him from muttering incantations. . . . women suspected of sorcery have to undergo the same ordeal; if found guilty, the same punishment is awarded, and after being shaved, their hair is attached to a tree in some public place." so among the bhils of india, when a woman was convicted of witchcraft and had been subjected to various forms of persuasion, such as hanging head downwards from a tree and having pepper put into her eyes, a lock of hair was cut from her head and buried in the ground, "that the last link between her and her former powers of mischief might be broken." in like manner among the aztecs of mexico, when wizards and witches "had done their evil deeds, and the time came to put an end to their detestable life, some one laid hold of them and cropped the hair on the crown of their heads, which took from them all their power of sorcery and enchantment, and then it was that by death they put an end to their odious existence." . the external soul in plants further it has been shown that in folk-tales the life of a person is sometimes so bound up with the life of a plant that the withering of the plant will immediately follow or be followed by the death of the person. among the m'bengas in western africa, about the gaboon, when two children are born on the same day, the people plant two trees of the same kind and dance round them. the life of each of the children is believed to be bound up with the life of one of the trees; and if the tree dies or is thrown down, they are sure that the child will soon die. in the cameroons, also, the life of a person is believed to be sympathetically bound up with that of a tree. the chief of old town in calabar kept his soul in a sacred grove near a spring of water. when some europeans, in frolic or ignorance, cut down part of the grove, the spirit was most indignant and threatened the perpetrators of the deed, according to the king, with all manner of evil. some of the papuans unite the life of a new-born babe sympathetically with that of a tree by driving a pebble into the bark of the tree. this is supposed to give them complete mastery over the child's life; if the tree is cut down, the child will die. after a birth the maoris used to bury the navel-string in a sacred place and plant a young sapling over it. as the tree grew, it was a _tohu oranga_ or sign of life for the child; if it flourished, the child would prosper; if it withered and died, the parents augured the worst for the little one. in some parts of fiji the navel-string of a male infant is planted together with a coco-nut or the slip of a breadfruit-tree, and the child's life is supposed to be intimately connected with that of the tree. amongst the dyaks of landak and tajan, districts of dutch borneo, it is customary to plant a fruit-tree for a baby, and henceforth in the popular belief the fate of the child is bound up with that of the tree. if the tree shoots up rapidly, it will go well with the child; but if the tree is dwarfed or shrivelled, nothing but misfortune can be expected for its human counterpart. it is said that there are still families in russia, germany, england, france, and italy who are accustomed to plant a tree at the birth of a child. the tree, it is hoped, will grow with the child, and it is tended with special care. the custom is still pretty general in the canton of aargau in switzerland; an apple-tree is planted for a boy and a pear-tree for a girl, and the people think that the child will flourish or dwindle with the tree. in mecklenburg the afterbirth is thrown out at the foot of a young tree, and the child is then believed to grow with the tree. near the castle of dalhousie, not far from edinburgh, there grows an oak-tree, called the edgewell tree, which is popularly believed to be linked to the fate of the family by a mysterious tie; for they say that when one of the family dies, or is about to die, a branch falls from the edgewell tree. thus, on seeing a great bough drop from the tree on a quiet, still day in july , an old forester exclaimed, "the laird's deid noo!" and soon after news came that fox maule, eleventh earl of dalhousie, was dead. in england children are sometimes passed through a cleft ash-tree as a cure for rupture or rickets, and thenceforward a sympathetic connexion is supposed to exist between them and the tree. an ash-tree which had been used for this purpose grew at the edge of shirley heath, on the road from hockly house to birmingham. "thomas chillingworth, son of the owner of an adjoining farm, now about thirty-four, was, when an infant of a year old, passed through a similar tree, now perfectly sound, which he preserves with so much care that he will not suffer a single branch to be touched, for it is believed the life of the patient depends on the life of the tree, and the moment that is cut down, be the patient ever so distant, the rupture returns, and a mortification ensues, and terminates in death, as was the case in a man driving a waggon on the very road in question." "it is not uncommon, however," adds the writer, "for persons to survive for a time the felling of the tree." the ordinary mode of effecting the cure is to split a young ash-sapling longitudinally for a few feet and pass the child, naked, either three times or three times three through the fissure at sunrise. in the west of england it is said that the passage should be "against the sun." as soon as the ceremony has been performed, the tree is bound tightly up and the fissure plastered over with mud or clay. the belief is that just as the cleft in the tree closes up, so the rupture in the child's body will be healed; but that if the rift in the tree remains open, the rupture in the child will remain too, and if the tree were to die, the death of the child would surely follow. a similar cure for various diseases, but especially for rupture and rickets, has been commonly practised in other parts of europe, as germany, france, denmark, and sweden; but in these countries the tree employed for the purpose is usually not an ash but an oak; sometimes a willow-tree is allowed or even prescribed instead. in mecklenburg, as in england, the sympathetic relation thus established between the tree and the child is believed to be so close that if the tree is cut down the child will die. . the external soul in animals but in practice, as in folk-tales, it is not merely with inanimate objects and plants that a person is occasionally believed to be united by a bond of physical sympathy. the same bond, it is supposed, may exist between a man and an animal, so that the welfare of the one depends on the welfare of the other, and when the animal dies the man dies also. the analogy between the custom and the tales is all the closer because in both of them the power of thus removing the soul from the body and stowing it away in an animal is often a special privilege of wizards and witches. thus the yakuts of siberia believe that every shaman or wizard keeps his soul, or one of his souls, incarnate in an animal which is carefully concealed from all the world. "nobody can find my external soul," said one famous wizard, "it lies hidden far away in the stony mountains of edzhigansk." only once a year, when the last snows melt and the earth turns black, do these external souls of wizards appear in the shape of animals among the dwellings of men. they wander everywhere, yet none but wizards can see them. the strong ones sweep roaring and noisily along, the weak steal about quietly and furtively. often they fight, and then the wizard whose external soul is beaten, falls ill or dies. the weakest and most cowardly wizards are they whose souls are incarnate in the shape of dogs, for the dog gives his human double no peace, but gnaws his heart and tears his body. the most powerful wizards are they whose external souls have the shape of stallions, elks, black bears, eagles, or boars. again, the samoyeds of the turukhinsk region hold that every shaman has a familiar spirit in the shape of a boar, which he leads about by a magic belt. on the death of the boar the shaman himself dies; and stories are told of battles between wizards, who send their spirits to fight before they encounter each other in person. the malays believe that "the soul of a person may pass into another person or into an animal, or rather that such a mysterious relation can arise between the two that the fate of the one is wholly dependent on that of the other." among the melanesians of mota, one of the new hebrides islands, the conception of an external soul is carried out in the practice of daily life. in the mota language the word _tamaniu_ signifies "something animate or inanimate which a man has come to believe to have an existence intimately connected with his own. . . . it was not every one in mota who had his _tamaniu;_ only some men fancied that they had this relation to a lizard, a snake, or it might be a stone; sometimes the thing was sought for and found by drinking the infusion of certain leaves and heaping together the dregs; then whatever living thing was first seen in or upon the heap was the _tamaniu._ it was watched but not fed or worshipped; the natives believed that it came at call, and that the life of the man was bound up with the life of his _tamaniu,_ if a living thing, or with its safety; should it die, or if not living get broken or be lost, the man would die. hence in case of sickness they would send to see if the _tamaniu_ was safe and well." the theory of an external soul deposited in an animal appears to be very prevalent in west africa, particularly in nigeria, the cameroons, and the gaboon. among the fans of the gaboon every wizard is believed at initiation to unite his life with that of some particular wild animal by a rite of blood-brotherhood; he draws blood from the ear of the animal and from his own arm, and inoculates the animal with his own blood, and himself with the blood of the beast. henceforth such an intimate union is established between the two that the death of the one entails the death of the other. the alliance is thought to bring to the wizard or sorcerer a great accession of power, which he can turn to his advantage in various ways. in the first place, like the warlock in the fairy tales who has deposited his life outside of himself in some safe place, the fan wizard now deems himself invulnerable. moreover, the animal with which he has exchanged blood has become his familiar, and will obey any orders he may choose to give it; so he makes use of it to injure and kill his enemies. for that reason the creature with whom he establishes the relation of blood-brotherhood is never a tame or domestic animal, but always a ferocious and dangerous wild beast, such as a leopard, a black serpent, a crocodile, a hippopotamus, a wild boar, or a vulture. of all these creatures the leopard is by far the commonest familiar of fan wizards, and next to it comes the black serpent; the vulture is the rarest. witches as well as wizards have their familiars; but the animals with which the lives of women are thus bound up generally differ from those to which men commit their external souls. a witch never has a panther for her familiar, but often a venomous species of serpent, sometimes a horned viper, sometimes a black serpent, sometimes a green one that lives in banana-trees; or it may be a vulture, an owl, or other bird of night. in every case the beast or bird with which the witch or wizard has contracted this mystic alliance is an individual, never a species; and when the individual animal dies the alliance is naturally at an end, since the death of the animal is supposed to entail the death of the man. similar beliefs are held by the natives of the cross river valley within the provinces of the cameroons. groups of people, generally the inhabitants of a village, have chosen various animals, with which they believe themselves to stand on a footing of intimate friendship or relationship. amongst such animals are hippopotamuses, elephants, leopards, crocodiles, gorillas, fish, and serpents, all of them creatures which are either very strong or can easily hide themselves in the water or a thicket. this power of concealing themselves is said to be an indispensable condition of the choice of animal familiars, since the animal friend or helper is expected to injure his owner's enemy by stealth; for example, if he is a hippopotamus, he will bob up suddenly out of the water and capsize the enemy's canoe. between the animals and their human friends or kinsfolk such a sympathetic relation is supposed to exist that the moment the animal dies the man dies also, and similarly the instant the man perishes so does the beast. from this it follows that the animal kinsfolk may never be shot at or molested for fear of injuring or killing the persons whose lives are knit up with the lives of the brutes. this does not, however, prevent the people of a village, who have elephants for their animal friends, from hunting elephants. for they do not respect the whole species but merely certain individuals of it, which stand in an intimate relation to certain individual men and women; and they imagine that they can always distinguish these brother elephants from the common herd of elephants which are mere elephants and nothing more. the recognition indeed is said to be mutual. when a hunter, who has an elephant for his friend, meets a human elephant, as we may call it, the noble animal lifts up a paw and holds it before his face, as much as to say, "don't shoot." were the hunter so inhuman as to fire on and wound such an elephant, the person whose life was bound up with the elephant would fall ill. the balong of the cameroons think that every man has several souls, of which one is in his body and another in an animal, such as an elephant, a wild pig, a leopard, and so forth. when a man comes home, feeling ill, and says, "i shall soon die," and dies accordingly, the people aver that one of his souls has been killed in a wild pig or a leopard and that the death of the external soul has caused the death of the soul in his body. a similar belief in the external souls of living people is entertained by the ibos, an important tribe of the niger delta. they think that a man's spirit can quit his body for a time during life and take up its abode in an animal. a man who wishes to acquire this power procures a certain drug from a wise man and mixes it with his food. after that his soul goes out and enters into an animal. if it should happen that the animal is killed while the man's soul is lodged in it, the man dies; and if the animal be wounded, the man's body will presently be covered with boils. this belief instigates to many deeds of darkness; for a sly rogue will sometimes surreptitiously administer the magical drug to his enemy in his food, and having thus smuggled the other's soul into an animal will destroy the creature, and with it the man whose soul is lodged in it. the negroes of calabar, at the mouth of the niger, believe that every person has four souls, one of which always lives outside of his or her body in the form of a wild beast in the forest. this external soul, or bush soul, as miss kingsley calls it, may be almost any animal, for example, a leopard, a fish, or a tortoise; but it is never a domestic animal and never a plant. unless he is gifted with second sight, a man cannot see his own bush soul, but a diviner will often tell him what sort of creature his bush soul is, and after that the man will be careful not to kill any animal of that species, and will strongly object to any one else doing so. a man and his sons have usually the same sort of animals for their bush souls, and so with a mother and her daughters. but sometimes all the children of a family take after the bush soul of their father; for example, if his external soul is a leopard, all his sons and daughters will have leopards for their external souls. and on the other hand, sometimes they all take after their mother; for instance, if her external soul is a tortoise, all the external souls of her sons and daughters will be tortoises too. so intimately bound up is the life of the man with that of the animal which he regards as his external or bush soul, that the death or injury of the animal necessarily entails the death or injury of the man. and, conversely, when the man dies, his bush soul can no longer find a place of rest, but goes mad and rushes into the fire or charges people and is knocked on the head, and that is an end of it. near eket in north calabar there is a sacred lake, the fish of which are carefully preserved because the people believe that their own souls are lodged in the fish, and that with every fish killed a human life would be simultaneously extinguished. in the calabar river not very many years ago there used to be a huge old crocodile, popularly supposed to contain the external soul of a chief who resided in the flesh at duke town. sporting vice-consuls used from time to time to hunt the animal, and once an officer contrived to hit it. forthwith the chief was laid up with a wound in his leg. he gave out that a dog had bitten him, but no doubt the wise shook their heads and refused to be put off with so flimsy a pretext. again, among several tribes on the banks of the niger between lokoja and the delta there prevails "a belief in the possibility of a man possessing an _alter ego_ in the form of some animal such as a crocodile or a hippopotamus. it is believed that such a person's life is bound up with that of the animal to such an extent that, whatever affects the one produces a corresponding impression upon the other, and that if one dies the other must speedily do so too. it happened not very long ago that an englishman shot a hippopotamus close to a native village; the friends of a woman who died the same night in the village demanded and eventually obtained five pounds as compensation for the murder of the woman." amongst the zapotecs of central america, when a woman was about to be confined, her relations assembled in the hut, and began to draw on the floor figures of different animals, rubbing each one out as soon as it was completed. this went on till the moment of birth, and the figure that then remained sketched upon the ground was called the child's _tona_ or second self. "when the child grew old enough, he procured the animal that represented him and took care of it, as it was believed that health and existence were bound up with that of the animal's, in fact that the death of both would occur simultaneously," or rather that when the animal died the man would die too. among the indians of guatemala and honduras the _nagual_ or _naual_ is "that animate or inanimate object, generally an animal, which stands in a parallel relation to a particular man, so that the weal and woe of the man depend on the fate of the _nagual._" according to an old writer, many indians of guatemala "are deluded by the devil to believe that their life dependeth upon the life of such and such a beast (which they take unto them as their familiar spirit), and think that when that beast dieth they must die; when he is chased, their hearts pant; when he is faint, they are faint; nay, it happeneth that by the devil's delusion they appear in the shape of that beast (which commonly by their choice is a buck, or doe, a lion, or tigre, or dog, or eagle) and in that shape have been shot at and wounded." the indians were persuaded that the death of their _nagual_ would entail their own. legend affirms that in the first battles with the spaniards on the plateau of quetzaltenango the _naguals_ of the indian chiefs fought in the form of serpents. the _nagual_ of the highest chief was especially conspicuous, because it had the form of a great bird, resplendent in green plumage. the spanish general pedro de alvarado killed the bird with his lance, and at the same moment the indian chief fell dead to the ground. in many tribes of south-eastern australia each sex used to regard a particular species of animals in the same way that a central american indian regarded his _nagual,_ but with this difference, that whereas the indian apparently knew the individual animal with which his life was bound up, the australians only knew that each of their lives was bound up with some one animal of the species, but they could not say with which. the result naturally was that every man spared and protected all the animals of the species with which the lives of the men were bound up; and every woman spared and protected all the animals of the species with which the lives of the women were bound up; because no one knew but that the death of any animal of the respective species might entail his or her own; just as the killing of the green bird was immediately followed by the death of the indian chief, and the killing of the parrot by the death of punchkin in the fairy tale. thus, for example, the wotjobaluk tribe of south-eastern australia "held that 'the life of ngunungunut (the bat) is the life of a man, and the life of yártatgurk (the nightjar) is the life of a woman,' and that when either of these creatures is killed the life of some man or of some woman is shortened. in such a case every man or every woman in the camp feared that he or she might be the victim, and from this cause great fights arose in this tribe. i learn that in these fights, men on one side and women on the other, it was not at all certain which would be victorious, for at times the women gave the men a severe drubbing with their yamsticks, while often women were injured or killed by spears." the wotjobaluk said that the bat was the man's "brother" and that the nightjar was his "wife." the particular species of animals with which the lives of the sexes were believed to be respectively bound up varied somewhat from tribe to tribe. thus whereas among the wotjobaluk the bat was the animal of the men, at gunbower creek on the lower murray the bat seems to have been the animal of the women, for the natives would not kill it for the reason that "if it was killed, one of their lubras [women] would be sure to die in consequence." but whatever the particular sorts of creature with which the lives of men and women were believed to be bound up, the belief itself and the fights to which it gave rise are known to have prevailed over a large part of south-eastern australia, and probably they extended much farther. the belief was a very serious one, and so consequently were the fights which sprang from it. thus among some tribes of victoria "the common bat belongs to the men, who protect it against injury, even to the half-killing of their wives for its sake. the fern owl, or large goatsucker, belongs to the women, and, although a bird of evil omen, creating terror at night by its cry, it is jealously protected by them. if a man kills one, they are as much enraged as if it was one of their children, and will strike him with their long poles." the jealous protection thus afforded by australian men and women to bats and owls respectively (for bats and owls seem to be the creatures usually allotted to the two sexes) is not based upon purely selfish considerations. for each man believes that not only his own life but the lives of his father, brothers, sons, and so on are bound up with the lives of particular bats, and that therefore in protecting the bat species he is protecting the lives of all his male relations as well as his own. similarly, each woman believes that the lives of her mother, sisters, daughters, and so forth, equally with her own, are bound up with the lives of particular owls, and that in guarding the owl species she is guarding the lives of all her female relations besides her own. now, when men's lives are thus supposed to be contained in certain animals, it is obvious that the animals can hardly be distinguished from the men, or the men from the animals. if my brother john's life is in a bat, then, on the one hand, the bat is my brother as well as john; and, on the other hand, john is in a sense a bat, since his life is in a bat. similarly, if my sister mary's life is in an owl, then the owl is my sister and mary is an owl. this is a natural enough conclusion, and the australians have not failed to draw it. when the bat is the man's animal, it is called his brother; and when the owl is the woman's animal, it is called her sister. and conversely a man addresses a woman as an owl, and she addresses him as a bat. so with the other animals allotted to the sexes respectively in other tribes. for example, among the kurnai all emu-wrens were "brothers" of the men, and all the men were emu-wrens; all superb warblers were "sisters" of the women, and all the women were superb warblers. but when a savage names himself after an animal, calls it his brother, and refuses to kill it, the animal is said to be his totem. accordingly in the tribes of south-eastern australia which we have been considering the bat and the owl, the emu-wren and the superb warbler, may properly be described as totems of the sexes. but the assignation of a totem to a sex is comparatively rare, and has hitherto been discovered nowhere but in australia. far more commonly the totem is appropriated not to a sex, but to a clan, and is hereditary either in the male or female line. the relation of an individual to the clan totem does not differ in kind from his relation to the sex totem; he will not kill it, he speaks of it as his brother, and he calls himself by its name. now if the relations are similar, the explanation which holds good of the one ought equally to hold good of the other. therefore, the reason why a clan revere a particular species of animals or plants (for the clan totem may be a plant) and call themselves after it, would seem to be a belief that the life of each individual of the clan is bound up with some one animal or plant of the species, and that his or her death would be the consequence of killing that particular animal, or destroying that particular plant. this explanation of totemism squares very well with sir george grey's definition of a totem or _kobong_ in western australia. he says: "a certain mysterious connexion exists between a family and its _kobong,_ so that a member of the family will never kill an animal of the species to which his _kobong_ belongs, should he find it asleep; indeed he always kills it reluctantly, and never without affording it a chance to escape. this arises from the family belief that some one individual of the species is their nearest friend, to kill whom would be a great crime, and to be carefully avoided. similarly, a native who has a vegetable for his _kobong_ may not gather it under certain circumstances, and at a particular period of the year." here it will be observed that though each man spares all the animals or plants of the species, they are not all equally precious to him; far from it, out of the whole species there is only one which is specially dear to him; but as he does not know which the dear one is, he is obliged to spare them all from fear of injuring the one. again, this explanation of the clan totem harmonises with the supposed effect of killing one of the totem species. "one day one of the blacks killed a crow. three or four days afterwards a boortwa (crow) [_i.e._ a man of the crow clan] named larry died. he had been ailing for some days, but the killing of his _wingong_ [totem] hastened his death." here the killing of the crow caused the death of a man of the crow clan, exactly as, in the case of the sex-totems, the killing of a bat causes the death of a bat-man or the killing of an owl causes the death of an owl-woman. similarly, the killing of his _nagual_ causes the death of a central american indian, the killing of his bush soul causes the death of a calabar negro, the killing of his _tamaniu_ causes the death of a banks islander, and the killing of the animal in which his life is stowed away causes the death of the giant or warlock in the fairy tale. thus it appears that the story of "the giant who had no heart in his body" may perhaps furnish the key to the relation which is supposed to subsist between a man and his totem. the totem, on this theory, is simply the receptacle in which a man keeps his life, as punchkin kept his life in a parrot, and bidasari kept her soul in a golden fish. it is no valid objection to this view that when a savage has both a sex totem and a clan totem his life must be bound up with two different animals, the death of either of which would entail his own. if a man has more vital places than one in his body, why, the savage may think, should he not have more vital places than one outside it? why, since he can put his life outside himself, should he not transfer one portion of it to one animal and another to another? the divisibility of life, or, to put it otherwise, the plurality of souls, is an idea suggested by many familiar facts, and has commended itself to philosophers like plato, as well as to savages. it is only when the notion of a soul, from being a quasi-scientific hypothesis, becomes a theological dogma that its unity and indivisibility are insisted upon as essential. the savage, unshackled by dogma, is free to explain the facts of life by the assumption of as many souls as he thinks necessary. hence, for example, the caribs supposed that there was one soul in the head, another in the heart, and other souls at all the places where an artery is felt pulsating. some of the hidatsa indians explain the phenomena of gradual death, when the extremities appear dead first, by supposing that man has four souls, and that they quit the body, not simultaneously, but one after the other, dissolution being only complete when all four have departed. some of the dyaks of borneo and the malays of the peninsula believe that every man has seven souls. the alfoors of poso in celebes are of opinion that he has three. the natives of laos suppose that the body is the seat of thirty spirits, which reside in the hands, the feet, the mouth, the eyes, and so on. hence, from the primitive point of view, it is perfectly possible that a savage should have one soul in his sex totem and another in his clan totem. however, as i have observed, sex totems have been found nowhere but in australia; so that as a rule the savage who practises totemism need not have more than one soul out of his body at a time. if this explanation of the totem as a receptacle in which a man keeps his soul or one of his souls is correct, we should expect to find some totemic people of whom it is expressly said that every man amongst them is believed to keep at least one soul permanently out of his body, and that the destruction of this external soul is supposed to entail the death of its owner. such a people are the bataks of sumatra. the bataks are divided into exogamous clans (_margas_) with descent in the male line; and each clan is forbidden to eat the flesh of a particular animal. one clan may not eat the tiger, another the ape, another the crocodile, another the dog, another the cat, another the dove, another the white buffalo, and another the locust. the reason given by members of a clan for abstaining from the flesh of the particular animal is either that they are descended from animals of that species, and that their souls after death may transmigrate into the animals, or that they or their forefathers have been under certain obligations to the creatures. sometimes, but not always, the clan bears the name of the animal. thus the bataks have totemism in full. but, further, each batak believes that he has seven or, on a more moderate computation, three souls. one of these souls is always outside the body, but nevertheless whenever it dies, however far away it may be at the time, that same moment the man dies also. the writer who mentions this belief says nothing about the batak totems; but on the analogy of the australian, central american, and african evidence we may conjecture that the external soul, whose death entails the death of the man, is housed in the totemic animal or plant. against this view it can hardly be thought to militate that the batak does not in set terms affirm his external soul to be in his totem, but alleges other grounds for respecting the sacred animal or plant of his clan. for if a savage seriously believes that his life is bound up with an external object, it is in the last degree unlikely that he will let any stranger into the secret. in all that touches his inmost life and beliefs the savage is exceedingly suspicious and reserved; europeans have resided among savages for years without discovering some of their capital articles of faith, and in the end the discovery has often been the result of accident. above all, the savage lives in an intense and perpetual dread of assassination by sorcery; the most trifling relics of his person--the clippings of his hair and nails, his spittle, the remnants of his food, his very name--all these may, he fancies, be turned by the sorcerer to his destruction, and he is therefore anxiously careful to conceal or destroy them. but if in matters such as these, which are but the outposts and outworks of his life, he is so shy and secretive, how close must be the concealment, how impenetrable the reserve in which he enshrouds the inner keep and citadel of his being! when the princess in the fairy tale asks the giant where he keeps his soul, he often gives false or evasive answers, and it is only after much coaxing and wheedling that the secret is at last wrung from him. in his jealous reticence the giant resembles the timid and furtive savage; but whereas the exigencies of the story demand that the giant should at last reveal his secret, no such obligation is laid on the savage; and no inducement that can be offered is likely to tempt him to imperil his soul by revealing its hiding-place to a stranger. it is therefore no matter for surprise that the central mystery of the savage's life should so long have remained a secret, and that we should be left to piece it together from scattered hints and fragments and from the recollections of it which linger in fairy tales. . the ritual of death and resurrection this view of totemism throws light on a class of religious rites of which no adequate explanation, so far as i am aware, has yet been offered. amongst many savage tribes, especially such as are known to practice totemism, it is customary for lads at puberty to undergo certain initiatory rites, of which one of the commonest is a pretence of killing the lad and bringing him to life again. such rites become intelligible if we suppose that their substance consists in extracting the youth's soul in order to transfer it to his totem. for the extraction of his soul would naturally be supposed to kill the youth or at least to throw him into a death-like trance, which the savage hardly distinguishes from death. his recovery would then be attributed either to the gradual recovery of his system from the violent shock which it had received, or, more probably, to the infusion into him of fresh life drawn from the totem. thus the essence of these initiatory rites, so far as they consist in a simulation of death and resurrection, would be an exchange of life or souls between the man and his totem. the primitive belief in the possibility of such an exchange of souls comes clearly out in a story of a basque hunter who affirmed that he had been killed by a bear, but that the bear had, after killing him, breathed its own soul into him, so that the bear's body was now dead, but he himself was a bear, being animated by the bear's soul. this revival of the dead hunter as a bear is exactly analogous to what, on the theory here suggested, is supposed to take place in the ceremony of killing a lad at puberty and bringing him to life again. the lad dies as a man and comes to life again as an animal; the animal's soul is now in him, and his human soul is in the animal. with good right, therefore, does he call himself a bear or a wolf, etc., according to his totem; and with good right does he treat the bears or the wolves, etc., as his brethren, since in these animals are lodged the souls of himself and his kindred. examples of this supposed death and resurrection at initiation are as follows. in the wonghi or wonghibon tribe of new south wales the youths on approaching manhood are initiated at a secret ceremony, which none but initiated men may witness. part of the proceedings consists in knocking out a tooth and giving a new name to the novice, indicative of the change from youth to manhood. while the teeth are being knocked out an instrument known as a bull-roarer, which consists of a flat piece of wood with serrated edges tied to the end of a string, is swung round so as to produce a loud humming noise. the uninitiated are not allowed to see this instrument. women are forbidden to witness the ceremonies under pain of death. it is given out that the youths are each met in turn by a mythical being, called thuremlin (more commonly known as daramulun) who takes the youth to a distance, kills him, and in some instances cuts him up, after which he restores him to life and knocks out a tooth. their belief in the power of thuremlin is said to be undoubted. the ualaroi of the upper darling river said that at initiation the boy met a ghost, who killed him and brought him to life again as a young man. among the natives on the lower lachlan and murray rivers it was thrumalun (daramulun) who was thought to slay and resuscitate the novices. in the unmatjera tribe of central australia women and children believe that a spirit called twanyirika kills the youth and afterwards brings him to life again during the period of initiation. the rites of initiation in this tribe, as in the other central tribes, comprise the operations of circumcision and subincision; and as soon as the second of these has been performed on him, the young man receives from his father a sacred stick (_churinga_), with which, he is told, his spirit was associated in the remotest past. while he is out in the bush recovering from his wounds, he must swing the bull-roarer, or a being who lives up in the sky will swoop down and carry him off. in the binbinga tribe, on the western coast of the gulf of carpentaria, the women and children believe that the noise of the bull-roarer at initiation is made by a spirit named katajalina, who lives in an ant-hill and comes out and eats up the boy, afterwards restoring him to life. similarly among their neighbours the anula the women imagine that the droning sound of the bull-roarer is produced by a spirit called gnabaia, who swallows the lads at initiation and afterwards disgorges them in the form of initiated men. among the tribes settled on the southern coast of new south wales, of which the coast murring tribe may be regarded as typical, the drama of resurrection from the dead was exhibited in a graphic form to the novices at initiation. the ceremony has been described for us by an eye-witness. a man, disguised with stringy bark fibre, lay down in a grave and was lightly covered up with sticks and earth. in his hand he held a small bush, which appeared to be growing in the soil, and other bushes were stuck in the ground to heighten the effect. then the novices were brought and placed beside the grave. next, a procession of men, disguised in stringy bark fibre, drew near. they represented a party of medicine-men, guided by two reverend seniors, who had come on pilgrimage to the grave of a brother medicine-man, who lay buried there. when the little procession, chanting an invocation to daramulun, had defiled from among the rocks and trees into the open, it drew up on the side of the grave opposite to the novices, the two old men taking up a position in the rear of the dancers. for some time the dance and song went on till the tree that seemed to grow from the grave began to quiver. "look there!" cried the men to the novices, pointing to the trembling leaves. as they looked, the tree quivered more and more, then was violently agitated and fell to the ground, while amid the excited dancing of the dancers and the chanting of the choir the supposed dead man spurned from him the superincumbent mass of sticks and leaves, and springing to his feet danced his magic dance in the grave itself, and exhibited in his mouth the magic substances which he was supposed to have received from daramulun in person. some tribes of northern new guinea--the yabim, bukaua, kai, and tami--like many australian tribes, require every male member of the tribe to be circumcised before he ranks as a full-grown man; and the tribal initiation, of which circumcision is the central feature, is conceived by them, as by some australian tribes, as a process of being swallowed and disgorged by a mythical monster, whose voice is heard in the humming sound of the bull-roarer. indeed the new guinea tribes not only impress this belief on the minds of women and children, but enact it in a dramatic form at the actual rites of initiation, at which no woman or uninitiated person may be present. for this purpose a hut about a hundred feet long is erected either in the village or in a lonely part of the forest. it is modelled in the shape of the mythical monster; at the end which represents his head it is high, and it tapers away at the other end. a betel-palm, grubbed up with the roots, stands for the backbone of the great being and its clustering fibres for his hair; and to complete the resemblance the butt end of the building is adorned by a native artist with a pair of goggle eyes and a gaping mouth. when after a tearful parting from their mothers and women folk, who believe or pretend to believe in the monster that swallows their dear ones, the awe-struck novices are brought face to face with this imposing structure, the huge creature emits a sullen growl, which is in fact no other than the humming note of bull-roarers swung by men concealed in the monster's belly. the actual process of deglutition is variously enacted. among the tami it is represented by causing the candidates to defile past a row of men who hold bull-roarers over their heads; among the kai it is more graphically set forth by making them pass under a scaffold on which stands a man, who makes a gesture of swallowing and takes in fact a gulp of water as each trembling novice passes beneath him. but the present of a pig, opportunely offered for the redemption of the youth, induces the monster to relent and disgorge his victim; the man who represents the monster accepts the gift vicariously, a gurgling sound is heard, and the water which had just been swallowed descends in a jet on the novice. this signifies that the young man has been released from the monster's belly. however, he has now to undergo the more painful and dangerous operation of circumcision. it follows immediately, and the cut made by the knife of the operator is explained to be a bite or scratch which the monster inflicted on the novice in spewing him out of his capacious maw. while the operation is proceeding, a prodigious noise is made by the swinging of bull-roarers to represent the roar of the dreadful being who is in the act of swallowing the young man. when, as sometimes happens, a lad dies from the effect of the operation, he is buried secretly in the forest, and his sorrowing mother is told that the monster has a pig's stomach as well as a human stomach, and that unfortunately her son slipped into the wrong stomach, from which it was impossible to extricate him. after they have been circumcised the lads must remain for some months in seclusion, shunning all contact with women and even the sight of them. they live in the long hut which represents the monster's belly. when at last the lads, now ranking as initiated men, are brought back with great pomp and ceremony to the village, they are received with sobs and tears of joy by the women, as if the grave had given up its dead. at first the young men keep their eyes rigidly closed or even sealed with a plaster of chalk, and they appear not to understand the words of command which are given them by an elder. gradually, however, they come to themselves as if awakening from a stupor, and next day they bathe and wash off the crust of white chalk with which their bodies had been coated. it is highly significant that all these tribes of new guinea apply the same word to the bull-roarer and to the monster, who is supposed to swallow the novices at circumcision, and whose fearful roar is represented by the hum of the harmless wooden instruments. further, it deserves to be noted that in three languages out of the four the same word which is applied to the bull-roarer and to the monster means also a ghost or spirit of the dead, while in the fourth language (the kai) it signifies "grandfather." from this it seems to follow that the being who swallows and disgorges the novices at initiation is believed to be a powerful ghost or ancestral spirit, and that the bull-roarer, which bears his name, is his material representative. that would explain the jealous secrecy with which the sacred implement is kept from the sight of women. while they are not in use, the bull-roarers are stowed away in the men's club-houses, which no woman may enter; indeed no woman or uninitiated person may set eyes on a bull-roarer under pain of death. similarly among the tugeri or kaya-kaya, a large papuan tribe on the south coast of dutch new guinea, the name of the bull-roarer, which they call _sosom,_ is given to a mythical giant, who is supposed to appear every year with the south-east monsoon. when he comes, a festival is held in his honour and bull-roarers are swung. boys are presented to the giant, and he kills them, but considerately brings them to life again. in certain districts of viti levu, the largest of the fijian islands, the drama of death and resurrection used to be acted with much solemnity before the eyes of young men at initiation. in a sacred enclosure they were shown a row of dead or seemingly dead men lying on the ground, their bodies cut open and covered with blood, their entrails protruding. but at a yell from the high priest the counterfeit dead men started to their feet and ran down to the river to cleanse themselves from the blood and guts of pigs with which they were beslobbered. soon they marched back to the sacred enclosure as if come to life, clean, fresh, and garlanded, swaying their bodies in time to the music of a solemn hymn, and took their places in front of the novices. such was the drama of death and resurrection. the people of rook, an island between new guinea and new britain, hold festivals at which one or two disguised men, their heads covered with wooden masks, go dancing through the village, followed by all the other men. they demand that the circumcised boys who have not yet been swallowed by marsaba (the devil) shall be given up to them. the boys, trembling and shrieking, are delivered to them, and must creep between the legs of the disguised men. then the procession moves through the village again, and announces that marsaba has eaten up the boys, and will not disgorge them till he receives a present of pigs, taro, and so forth. so all the villagers, according to their means, contribute provisions, which are then consumed in the name of marsaba. in the west of ceram boys at puberty are admitted to the kakian association. modern writers have commonly regarded this association as primarily a political league instituted to resist foreign domination. in reality its objects are purely religious and social, though it is possible that the priests may have occasionally used their powerful influence for political ends. the society is in fact merely one of those widely-diffused primitive institutions, of which a chief object is the initiation of young men. in recent years the true nature of the association has been duly recognised by the distinguished dutch ethnologist, j. g. f. riedel. the kakian house is an oblong wooden shed, situated under the darkest trees in the depth of the forest, and is built to admit so little light that it is impossible to see what goes on in it. every village has such a house. thither the boys who are to be initiated are conducted blindfold, followed by their parents and relations. each boy is led by the hand of two men, who act as his sponsors or guardians, looking after him during the period of initiation. when all are assembled before the shed, the high priest calls aloud upon the devils. immediately a hideous uproar is heard to proceed from the shed. it is made by men with bamboo trumpets, who have been secretly introduced into the building by a back door, but the women and children think it is made by the devils, and are much terrified. then the priests enter the shed, followed by the boys, one at a time. as soon as each boy has disappeared within the precincts, a dull chopping sound is heard, a fearful cry rings out, and a sword or spear, dripping with blood, is thrust through the roof of the shed. this is a token that the boy's head has been cut off, and that the devil has carried him away to the other world, there to regenerate and transform him. so at sight of the bloody sword the mothers weep and wail, crying that the devil has murdered their children. in some places, it would seem, the boys are pushed through an opening made in the shape of a crocodile's jaws or a cassowary's beak, and it is then said that the devil has swallowed them. the boys remain in the shed for five or nine days. sitting in the dark, they hear the blast of the bamboo trumpets, and from time to time the sound of musket shots and the clash of swords. every day they bathe, and their faces and bodies are smeared with a yellow dye, to give them the appearance of having been swallowed by the devil. during his stay in the kakian house each boy has one or two crosses tattooed with thorns on his breast or arm. when they are not sleeping, the lads must sit in a crouching posture without moving a muscle. as they sit in a row cross-legged, with their hands stretched out, the chief takes his trumpet, and placing the mouth of it on the hands of each lad, speaks through it in strange tones, imitating the voice of the spirits. he warns the lads, under pain of death, to observe the rules of the kakian society, and never to reveal what has passed in the kakian house. the novices are also told by the priests to behave well to their blood relations, and are taught the traditions and secrets of the tribe. meantime the mothers and sisters of the lads have gone home to weep and mourn. but in a day or two the men who acted as guardians or sponsors to the novices return to the village with the glad tidings that the devil, at the intercession of the priests, has restored the lads to life. the men who bring this news come in a fainting state and daubed with mud, like messengers freshly arrived from the nether world. before leaving the kakian house, each lad receives from the priest a stick adorned at both ends with a cock's or cassowary's feathers. the sticks are supposed to have been given to the lads by the devil at the time when he restored them to life, and they serve as a token that the youths have been in the spirit land. when they return to their homes they totter in their walk, and enter the house backward, as if they had forgotten how to walk properly; or they enter the house by the back door. if a plate of food is given to them, they hold it upside down. they remain dumb, indicating their wants by signs only. all this is to show that they are still under the influence of the devil or the spirits. their sponsors have to teach them all the common acts of life, as if they were newborn children. further, upon leaving the kakian house the boys are strictly forbidden to eat of certain fruits until the next celebration of the rites has taken place. and for twenty or thirty days their hair may not be combed by their mothers or sisters. at the end of that time the high priest takes them to a lonely place in the forest, and cuts off a lock of hair from the crown of each of their heads. after these initiatory rites the lads are deemed men, and may marry; it would be a scandal if they married before. in the region of the lower congo a simulation of death and resurrection is, or rather used to be, practised by the members of a guild or secret society called _ndembo._ "in the practice of ndembo the initiating doctors get some one to fall down in a pretended fit, and in that state he is carried away to an enclosed place outside the town. this is called 'dying ndembo.' others follow suit, generally boys and girls, but often young men and women. . . . they are supposed to have died. but the parents and friends supply food, and after a period varying, according to custom, from three months to three years, it is arranged that the doctor shall bring them to life again. . . . when the doctor's fee has been paid, and money (goods) saved for a feast, the _ndembo_ people are brought to life. at first they pretend to know no one and nothing; they do not even know how to masticate food, and friends have to perform that office for them. they want everything nice that any one uninitiated may have, and beat them if it is not granted, or even strangle and kill people. they do not get into trouble for this, because it is thought that they do not know better. sometimes they carry on the pretence of talking gibberish, and behaving as if they had returned from the spirit-world. after this they are known by another name, peculiar to those who have 'died ndembo.' . . . we hear of the custom far along on the upper river, as well as in the cataract region." among some of the indian tribes of north america there exist certain religious associations which are only open to candidates who have gone through a pretence of being killed and brought to life again. in or captain jonathan carver witnessed the admission of a candidate to an association called "the friendly society of the spirit" (_wakon-kitchewah_) among the naudowessies, a siouan or dacotan tribe in the region of the great lakes. the candidate knelt before the chief, who told him that "he himself was now agitated by the same spirit which he should in a few moments communicate to him; that it would strike him dead, but that he would instantly be restored again to life; to this he added, that the communication, however terrifying, was a necessary introduction to the advantages enjoyed by the community into which he was on the point of being admitted. as he spoke this, he appeared to be greatly agitated; till at last his emotions became so violent, that his countenance was distorted, and his whole frame convulsed. at this juncture he threw something that appeared both in shape and colour like a small bean, at the young man, which seemed to enter his mouth, and he instantly fell as motionless as if he had been shot." for a time the man lay like dead, but under a shower of blows he showed signs of consciousness, and finally, discharging from his mouth the bean, or whatever it was that the chief had thrown at him, he came to life. in other tribes, for example, the ojebways, winnebagoes, and dacotas or sioux, the instrument by which the candidate is apparently slain is the medicine-bag. the bag is made of the skin of an animal (such as the otter, wild cat, serpent, bear, raccoon, wolf, owl, weasel), of which it roughly preserves the shape. each member of the society has one of these bags, in which he keeps the odds and ends that make up his "medicine" or charms. "they believe that from the miscellaneous contents in the belly of the skin bag or animal there issues a spirit or breath, which has the power, not only to knock down and kill a man, but also to set him up and restore him to life." the mode of killing a man with one of these medicine-bags is to thrust it at him; he falls like dead, but a second thrust of the bag restores him to life. a ceremony witnessed by the castaway john r. jewitt during his captivity among the indians of nootka sound doubtless belongs to this class of customs. the indian king or chief "discharged a pistol close to his son's ear, who immediately fell down as if killed, upon which all the women of the house set up a most lamentable cry, tearing handfuls of hair from their heads, and exclaiming that the prince was dead; at the same time a great number of the inhabitants rushed into the house armed with their daggers, muskets, etc., enquiring the cause of their outcry. these were immediately followed by two others dressed in wolf-skins, with masks over their faces representing the head of that animal. the latter came in on their hands and feet in the manner of a beast, and taking up the prince, carried him off upon their backs, retiring in the same manner they entered." in another place jewitt mentions that the young prince--a lad of about eleven years of age--wore a mask in imitation of a wolf's head. now, as the indians of this part of america are divided into totem clans, of which the wolf clan is one of the principal, and as the members of each clan are in the habit of wearing some portion of the totem animal about their person, it is probable that the prince belonged to the wolf clan, and that the ceremony described by jewitt represented the killing of the lad in order that he might be born anew as a wolf, much in the same way that the basque hunter supposed himself to have been killed and to have come to life again as a bear. this conjectural explanation of the ceremony has, since it was first put forward, been to some extent confirmed by the researches of dr. franz boas among these indians; though it would seem that the community to which the chief's son thus obtained admission was not so much a totem clan as a secret society called tlokoala, whose members imitated wolves. every new member of the society must be initiated by the wolves. at night a pack of wolves, personated by indians dressed in wolf-skins and wearing wolf-masks, make their appearance, seize the novice, and carry him into the woods. when the wolves are heard outside the village, coming to fetch away the novice, all the members of the society blacken their faces and sing, "among all the tribes is great excitement, because i am tlokoala." next day the wolves bring back the novice dead, and the members of the society have to revive him. the wolves are supposed to have put a magic stone into his body, which must be removed before he can come to life. till this is done the pretended corpse is left lying outside the house. two wizards go and remove the stone, which appears to be quartz, and then the novice is resuscitated. among the niska indians of british columbia, who are divided into four principal clans with the raven, the wolf, the eagle, and the bear for their respective totems, the novice at initiation is always brought back by an artificial totem animal. thus when a man was about to be initiated into a secret society called olala, his friends drew their knives and pretended to kill him. in reality they let him slip away, while they cut off the head of a dummy which had been adroitly substituted for him. then they laid the decapitated dummy down and covered it over, and the women began to mourn and wail. his relations gave a funeral banquet and solemnly burnt the effigy. in short, they held a regular funeral. for a whole year the novice remained absent and was seen by none but members of the secret society. but at the end of that time he came back alive, carried by an artificial animal which represented his totem. in these ceremonies the essence of the rite appears to be the killing of the novice in his character of a man and his restoration to life in the form of the animal which is thenceforward to be, if not his guardian spirit, at least linked to him in a peculiarly intimate relation. it is to be remembered that the indians of guatemala, whose life was bound up with an animal, were supposed to have the power of appearing in the shape of the particular creature with which they were thus sympathetically united. hence it seems not unreasonable to conjecture that in like manner the indians of british columbia may imagine that their life depends on the life of some one of that species of creature to which they assimilate themselves by their costume. at least if that is not an article of belief with the columbian indians of the present day, it may very well have been so with their ancestors in the past, and thus may have helped to mould the rites and ceremonies both of the totem clans and of the secret societies. for though these two sorts of communities differ in respect of the mode in which membership of them is obtained--a man being born into his totem clan but admitted into a secret society later in life--we can hardly doubt that they are near akin and have their root in the same mode of thought. that thought, if i am right, is the possibility of establishing a sympathetic relation with an animal, a spirit, or other mighty being, with whom a man deposits for safe-keeping his soul or some part of it, and from whom he receives in return a gift of magical powers. thus, on the theory here suggested, wherever totemism is found, and wherever a pretence is made of killing and bringing to life again the novice at initiation, there may exist or have existed not only a belief in the possibility of permanently depositing the soul in some external object--animal, plant, or what not--but an actual intention of so doing. if the question is put, why do men desire to deposit their life outside their bodies? the answer can only be that, like the giant in the fairy tale, they think it safer to do so than to carry it about with them, just as people deposit their money with a banker rather than carry it on their persons. we have seen that at critical periods the life or soul is sometimes temporarily stowed away in a safe place till the danger is past. but institutions like totemism are not resorted to merely on special occasions of danger; they are systems into which every one, or at least every male, is obliged to be initiated at a certain period of life. now the period of life at which initiation takes place is regularly puberty; and this fact suggests that the special danger which totemism and systems like it are intended to obviate is supposed not to arise till sexual maturity has been attained, in fact, that the danger apprehended is believed to attend the relation of the sexes to each other. it would be easy to prove by a long array of facts that the sexual relation is associated in the primitive mind with many serious perils; but the exact nature of the danger apprehended is still obscure. we may hope that a more exact acquaintance with savage modes of thought will in time disclose this central mystery of primitive society, and will thereby furnish the clue, not only to totemism, but to the origin of the marriage system. lxviii. the golden bough thus the view that balder's life was in the mistletoe is entirely in harmony with primitive modes of thought. it may indeed sound like a contradiction that, if his life was in the mistletoe, he should nevertheless have been killed by a blow from the plant. but when a person's life is conceived as embodied in a particular object, with the existence of which his own existence is inseparably bound up, and the destruction of which involves his own, the object in question may be regarded and spoken of indifferently as his life or his death, as happens in the fairy tales. hence if a man's death is in an object, it is perfectly natural that he should be killed by a blow from it. in the fairy tales koshchei the deathless is killed by a blow from the egg or the stone in which his life or death is secreted; the ogres burst when a certain grain of sand--doubtless containing their life or death--is carried over their heads; the magician dies when the stone in which his life or death is contained is put under his pillow; and the tartar hero is warned that he may be killed by the golden arrow or golden sword in which his soul has been stowed away. the idea that the life of the oak was in the mistletoe was probably suggested, as i have said, by the observation that in winter the mistletoe growing on the oak remains green while the oak itself is leafless. but the position of the plant--growing not from the ground but from the trunk or branches of the tree--might confirm this idea. primitive man might think that, like himself, the oak-spirit had sought to deposit his life in some safe place, and for this purpose had pitched on the mistletoe, which, being in a sense neither on earth nor in heaven, might be supposed to be fairly out of harm's way. in a former chapter we saw that primitive man seeks to preserve the life of his human divinities by keeping them poised between earth and heaven, as the place where they are least likely to be assailed by the dangers that encompass the life of man on earth. we can therefore understand why it has been a rule both of ancient and of modern folk-medicine that the mistletoe should not be allowed to touch the ground; were it to touch the ground, its healing virtue would be gone. this may be a survival of the old superstition that the plant in which the life of the sacred tree was concentrated should not be exposed to the risk incurred by contact with the earth. in an indian legend, which offers a parallel to the balder myth, indra swore to the demon namuci that he would slay him neither by day nor by night, neither with staff nor with bow, neither with the palm of the hand nor with the fist, neither with the wet nor with the dry. but he killed him in the morning twilight by sprinkling over him the foam of the sea. the foam of the sea is just such an object as a savage might choose to put his life in, because it occupies that sort of intermediate or nondescript position between earth and sky or sea and sky in which primitive man sees safety. it is therefore not surprising that the foam of the river should be the totem of a clan in india. again, the view that the mistletoe owes its mystic character partly to its not growing on the ground is confirmed by a parallel superstition about the mountain-ash or rowan-tree. in jutland a rowan that is found growing out of the top of another tree is esteemed "exceedingly effective against witchcraft: since it does not grow on the ground witches have no power over it; if it is to have its full effect it must be cut on ascension day." hence it is placed over doors to prevent the ingress of witches. in sweden and norway, also, magical properties are ascribed to a "flying-rowan" (_flögrönn_), that is to a rowan which is found growing not in the ordinary fashion on the ground but on another tree, or on a roof, or in a cleft of the rock, where it has sprouted from seed scattered by birds. they say that a man who is out in the dark should have a bit of "flying-rowan" with him to chew; else he runs a risk of being bewitched and of being unable to stir from the spot. just as in scandinavia the parasitic rowan is deemed a countercharm to sorcery, so in germany the parasitic mistletoe is still commonly considered a protection against witch-craft, and in sweden, as we saw, the mistletoe which is gathered on midsummer eve is attached to the ceiling of the house, the horse's stall or the cow's crib, in the belief that this renders the troll powerless to injure man or beast. the view that the mistletoe was not merely the instrument of balder's death, but that it contained his life, is countenanced by the analogy of a scottish superstition. tradition ran that the fate of the hays of errol, an estate in perthshire, near the firth of tay, was bound up with the mistletoe that grew on a certain great oak. a member of the hay family has recorded the old belief as follows: "among the low country families the badges are now almost generally forgotten; but it appears by an ancient ms., and the tradition of a few old people in perthshire, that the badge of the hays was the mistletoe. there was formerly in the neighbourhood of errol, and not far from the falcon stone, a vast oak of an unknown age, and upon which grew a profusion of the plant: many charms and legends were considered to be connected with the tree, and the duration of the family of hay was said to be united with its existence. it was believed that a sprig of the mistletoe cut by a hay on allhallowmas eve, with a new dirk, and after surrounding the tree three times sunwise, and pronouncing a certain spell, was a sure charm against all glamour or witchery, and an infallible guard in the day of battle. a spray gathered in the same manner was placed in the cradle of infants, and thought to defend them from being changed for elfbairns by the fairies. finally, it was affirmed, that when the root of the oak had perished, 'the grass should grow in the hearth of errol, and a raven should sit in the falcon's nest.' the two most unlucky deeds which could be done by one of the name of hay was, to kill a white falcon, and to cut down a limb from the oak of errol. when the old tree was destroyed i could never learn. the estate has been sold out of the family of hay, and of course it is said that the fatal oak was cut down a short time before." the old superstition is recorded in verses which are traditionally ascribed to thomas the rhymer: while the mistletoe bats on errol's aik, and that aik stands fast, the hays shall flourish, and their good grey hawk shall nocht flinch before the blast. but when the root of the aik decays, and the mistletoe dwines on its withered breast, the grass shall grow on errol's hearthstane, and the corbie roup in the falcon's nest. it is not a new opinion that the golden bough was the mistletoe. true, virgil does not identify but only compares it with mistletoe. but this may be only a poetical device to cast a mystic glamour over the humble plant. or, more probably, his description was based on a popular superstition that at certain times the mistletoe blazed out into a supernatural golden glory. the poet tells how two doves, guiding aeneas to the gloomy vale in whose depth grew the golden bough, alighted upon a tree, "whence shone a flickering gleam of gold. as in the woods in winter cold the mistletoe--a plant not native to its tree--is green with fresh leaves and twines its yellow berries about the boles; such seemed upon the shady holm-oak the leafy gold, so rustled in the gentle breeze the golden leaf." here virgil definitely describes the golden bough as growing on a holm-oak, and compares it with the mistletoe. the inference is almost inevitable that the golden bough was nothing but the mistletoe seen through the haze of poetry or of popular superstition. now grounds have been shown for believing that the priest of the arician grove--the king of the wood--personified the tree on which grew the golden bough. hence if that tree was the oak, the king of the wood must have been a personification of the oakspirit. it is, therefore, easy to understand why, before he could be slain, it was necessary to break the golden bough. as an oak-spirit, his life or death was in the mistletoe on the oak, and so long as the mistletoe remained intact, he, like balder, could not die. to slay him, therefore, it was necessary to break the mistletoe, and probably, as in the case of balder, to throw it at him. and to complete the parallel, it is only necessary to suppose that the king of the wood was formerly burned, dead or alive, at the midsummer fire festival which, as we have seen, was annually celebrated in the arician grove. the perpetual fire which burned in the grove, like the perpetual fire which burned in the temple of vesta at rome and under the oak at romove, was probably fed with the sacred oak-wood; and thus it would be in a great fire of oak that the king of the wood formerly met his end. at a later time, as i have suggested, his annual tenure of office was lengthened or shortened, as the case might be, by the rule which allowed him to live so long as he could prove his divine right by the strong hand. but he only escaped the fire to fall by the sword. thus it seems that at a remote age in the heart of italy, beside the sweet lake of nemi, the same fiery tragedy was annually enacted which italian merchants and soldiers were afterwards to witness among their rude kindred, the celts of gaul, and which, if the roman eagles had ever swooped on norway, might have been found repeated with little difference among the barbarous aryans of the north. the rite was probably an essential feature in the ancient aryan worship of the oak. it only remains to ask, why was the mistletoe called the golden bough? the whitish-yellow of the mistletoe berries is hardly enough to account for the name, for virgil says that the bough was altogether golden, stems as well as leaves. perhaps the name may be derived from the rich golden yellow which a bough of mistletoe assumes when it has been cut and kept for some months; the bright tint is not confined to the leaves, but spreads to the stalks as well, so that the whole branch appears to be indeed a golden bough. breton peasants hang up great bunches of mistletoe in front of their cottages, and in the month of june these bunches are conspicuous for the bright golden tinge of their foliage. in some parts of brittany, especially about morbihan, branches of mistletoe are hung over the doors of stables and byres to protect the horses and cattle, probably against witchcraft. the yellow colour of the withered bough may partly explain why the mistletoe has been sometimes supposed to possess the property of disclosing treasures in the earth; for on the principles of homoeopathic magic there is a natural affinity between a yellow bough and yellow gold. this suggestion is confirmed by the analogy of the marvellous properties popularly ascribed to the mythical fern-seed, which is popularly supposed to bloom like gold or fire on midsummer eve. thus in bohemia it is said that "on st. john's day fern-seed blooms with golden blossoms that gleam like fire." now it is a property of this mythical fern-seed that whoever has it, or will ascend a mountain holding it in his hand on midsummer eve, will discover a vein of gold or will see the treasures of the earth shining with a bluish flame. in russia they say that if you succeed in catching the wondrous bloom of the fern at midnight on midsummer eve, you have only to throw it up into the air, and it will fall like a star on the very spot where a treasure lies hidden. in brittany treasure-seekers gather fern-seed at midnight on midsummer eve, and keep it till palm sunday of the following year; then they strew the seed on the ground where they think a treasure is concealed. tyrolese peasants imagine that hidden treasures can be seen glowing like flame on midsummer eve, and that fern-seed, gathered at this mystic season, with the usual precautions, will help to bring the buried gold to the surface. in the swiss canton of freiburg people used to watch beside a fern on st. john's night in the hope of winning a treasure, which the devil himself sometimes brought to them. in bohemia they say that he who procures the golden bloom of the fern at this season has thereby the key to all hidden treasures; and that if maidens will spread a cloth under the fast-fading bloom, red gold will drop into it. and in the tryol and bohemia if you place fern-seed among money, the money will never decrease, however much of it you spend. sometimes the fern-seed is supposed to bloom on christmas night, and whoever catches it will become very rich. in styria they say that by gathering fern-seed on christmas night you can force the devil to bring you a bag of money. thus, on the principle of like by like, fern-seed is supposed to discover gold because it is itself golden; and for a similar reason it enriches its possessor with an unfailing supply of gold. but while the fern-seed is described as golden, it is equally described as glowing and fiery. hence, when we consider that two great days for gathering the fabulous seed are midsummer eve and christmas--that is, the two solstices (for christmas is nothing but an old heathen celebration of the winter solstice)--we are led to regard the fiery aspect of the fern-seed as primary, and its golden aspect as secondary and derivative. fern-seed, in fact, would seem to be an emanation of the sun's fire at the two turning-points of its course, the summer and winter solstices. this view is confirmed by a german story in which a hunter is said to have procured fern-seed by shooting at the sun on midsummer day at noon; three drops of blood fell down, which he caught in a white cloth, and these blood-drops were the fern-seed. here the blood is clearly the blood of the sun, from which the fern-seed is thus directly derived. thus it may be taken as probable that fern-seed is golden, because it is believed to be an emanation of the sun's golden fire. now, like fern-seed, the mistletoe is gathered either at midsummer or at christmas--that is, either at the summer or at the winter solstice--and, like fern-seed, it is supposed to possess the power of revealing treasures in the earth. on midsummer eve people in sweden make divining-rods of mistletoe, or of four different kinds of wood one of which must be mistletoe. the treasure-seeker places the rod on the ground after sundown, and when it rests directly over treasure, the rod begins to move as if it were alive. now, if the mistletoe discovers gold, it must be in its character of the golden bough; and if it is gathered at the solstices, must not the golden bough, like the golden fern-seed, be an emanation of the sun's fire? the question cannot be answered with a simple affirmative. we have seen that the old aryans perhaps kindled the solstitial and other ceremonial fires in part as sun-charms, that is, with the intention of supplying the sun with fresh fire; and as these fires were usually made by the friction or combustion of oak-wood, it may have appeared to the ancient aryan that the sun was periodically recruited from the fire which resided in the sacred oak. in other words, the oak may have seemed to him the original storehouse or reservoir of the fire which was from time to time drawn out to feed the sun. but if the life of the oak was conceived to be in the mistletoe, the mistletoe must on that view have contained the seed or germ of the fire which was elicited by friction from the wood of the oak. thus, instead of saying that the mistletoe was an emanation of the sun's fire, it might be more correct to say that the sun's fire was regarded as an emanation of the mistletoe. no wonder, then, that the mistletoe shone with a golden splendour, and was called the golden bough. probably, however, like fern-seed, it was thought to assume its golden aspect only at those stated times, especially midsummer, when fire was drawn from the oak to light up the sun. at pulverbatch, in shropshire, it was believed within living memory that the oak-tree blooms on midsummer eve and the blossom withers before daylight. a maiden who wishes to know her lot in marriage should spread a white cloth under the tree at night, and in the morning she will find a little dust, which is all that remains of the flower. she should place the pinch of dust under her pillow, and then her future husband will appear to her in her dreams. this fleeting bloom of the oak, if i am right, was probably the mistletoe in its character of the golden bough. the conjecture is confirmed by the observation that in wales a real sprig of mistletoe gathered on midsummer eve is similarly placed under the pillow to induce prophetic dreams; and further the mode of catching the imaginary bloom of the oak in a white cloth is exactly that which was employed by the druids to catch the real mistletoe when it dropped from the bough of the oak, severed by the golden sickle. as shropshire borders on wales, the belief that the oak blooms on midsummer eve may be welsh in its immediate origin, though probably the belief is a fragment of the primitive aryan creed. in some parts of italy, as we saw, peasants still go out on midsummer morning to search the oak-trees for the "oil of st. john," which, like the mistletoe, heals all wounds, and is, perhaps, the mistletoe itself in its glorified aspect. thus it is easy to understand how a title like the golden bough, so little descriptive of its usual appearance on the tree, should have been applied to the seemingly insignificant parasite. further, we can perhaps see why in antiquity mistletoe was believed to possess the remarkable property of extinguishing fire, and why in sweden it is still kept in houses as a safeguard against conflagration. its fiery nature marks it out, on homoeopathic principles, as the best possible cure or preventive of injury by fire. these considerations may partially explain why virgil makes aeneas carry a glorified bough of mistletoe with him on his descent into the gloomy subterranean world. the poet describes how at the very gates of hell there stretched a vast and gloomy wood, and how the hero, following the flight of two doves that lured him on, wandered into the depths of the immemorial forest till he saw afar off through the shadows of the trees the flickering light of the golden bough illuminating the matted boughs overhead. if the mistletoe, as a yellow withered bough in the sad autumn woods, was conceived to contain the seed of fire, what better companion could a forlorn wanderer in the nether shades take with him than a bough that would be a lamp to his feet as well as a rod and staff to his hands? armed with it he might boldly confront the dreadful spectres that would cross his path on his adventurous journey. hence when aeneas, emerging from the forest, comes to the banks of styx, winding slow with sluggish stream through the infernal marsh, and the surly ferryman refuses him passage in his boat, he has but to draw the golden bough from his bosom and hold it up, and straightway the blusterer quails at the sight and meekly receives the hero into his crazy bark, which sinks deep in the water under the unusual weight of the living man. even in recent times, as we have seen, mistletoe has been deemed a protection against witches and trolls, and the ancients may well have credited it with the same magical virtue. and if the parasite can, as some of our peasants believe, open all locks, why should it not have served as an "open sesame" in the hands of aeneas to unlock the gates of death? now, too, we can conjecture why virbius at nemi came to be confounded with the sun. if virbius was, as i have tried to show, a tree-spirit, he must have been the spirit of the oak on which grew the golden bough; for tradition represented him as the first of the kings of the wood. as an oak-spirit he must have been supposed periodically to rekindle the sun's fire, and might therefore easily be confounded with the sun itself. similarly we can explain why balder, an oak-spirit, was described as "so fair of face and so shining that a light went forth from him," and why he should have been so often taken to be the sun. and in general we may say that in primitive society, when the only known way of making fire is by the friction of wood, the savage must necessarily conceive of fire as a property stored away, like sap or juice, in trees, from which he has laboriously to extract it. the senal indians of california "profess to believe that the whole world was once a globe of fire, whence that element passed up into the trees, and now comes out whenever two pieces of wood are rubbed together." similarly the maidu indians of california hold that "the earth was primarily a globe of molten matter, and from that the principle of fire ascended through the roots into the trunk and branches of trees, whence the indians can extract it by means of their drill." in namoluk, one of the caroline islands, they say that the art of making fire was taught men by the gods. olofaet, the cunning master of flames, gave fire to the bird _mwi_ and bade him carry it to earth in his bill. so the bird flew from tree to tree and stored away the slumbering force of the fire in the wood, from which men can elicit it by friction. in the ancient vedic hymns of india the fire-god agni "is spoken of as born in wood, as the embryo of plants, or as distributed in plants. he is also said to have entered into all plants or to strive after them. when he is called the embryo of trees or of trees as well as plants, there may be a side-glance at the fire produced in forests by the friction of the boughs of trees." a tree which has been struck by lightning is naturally regarded by the savage as charged with a double or triple portion of fire; for has he not seen the mighty flash enter into the trunk with his own eyes? hence perhaps we may explain some of the many superstitious beliefs concerning trees that have been struck by lightning. when the thompson indians of british columbia wished to set fire to the houses of their enemies, they shot at them arrows which were either made from a tree that had been struck by lightning or had splinters of such wood attached to them. wendish peasants of saxony refuse to burn in their stoves the wood of trees that have been struck by lightning; they say that with such fuel the house would be burnt down. in like manner the thonga of south africa will not use such wood as fuel nor warm themselves at a fire which has been kindled with it. on the contrary, when lightning sets fire to a tree, the winamwanga of northern rhodesia put out all the fires in the village and plaster the fireplaces afresh, while the head men convey the lightning-kindled fire to the chief, who prays over it. the chief then sends out the new fire to all his villages, and the villagers reward his messengers for the boon. this shows that they look upon fire kindled by lightning with reverence, and the reverence is intelligible, for they speak of thunder and lightning as god himself coming down to earth. similarly the maidu indians of california believe that a great man created the world and all its inhabitants, and that lightning is nothing but the great man himself descending swiftly out of heaven and rending the trees with his flaming arms. it is a plausible theory that the reverence which the ancient peoples of europe paid to the oak, and the connexion which they traced between the tree and their sky-god, were derived from the much greater frequency with which the oak appears to be struck by lightning than any other tree of our european forests. this peculiarity of the tree has seemingly been established by a series of observations instituted within recent years by scientific enquirers who have no mythological theory to maintain. however we may explain it, whether by the easier passage of electricity through oak-wood than through any other timber, or in some other way, the fact itself may well have attracted the notice of our rude forefathers, who dwelt in the vast forests which then covered a large part of europe; and they might naturally account for it in their simple religious way by supposing that the great sky-god, whom they worshipped and whose awful voice they heard in the roll of thunder, loved the oak above all the trees of the wood and often descended into it from the murky cloud in a flash of lightning, leaving a token of his presence or of his passage in the riven and blackened trunk and the blasted foliage. such trees would thenceforth be encircled by a nimbus of glory as the visible seats of the thundering sky-god. certain it is that, like some savages, both greeks and romans identified their great god of the sky and of the oak with the lightning flash which struck the ground; and they regularly enclosed such a stricken spot and treated it thereafter as sacred. it is not rash to suppose that the ancestors of the celts and germans in the forests of central europe paid a like respect for like reasons to a blasted oak. this explanation of the aryan reverence for the oak and of the association of the tree with the great god of the thunder and the sky, was suggested or implied long ago by jacob grimm, and has been in recent years powerfully reinforced by mr. w. warde fowler. it appears to be simpler and more probable than the explanation which i formerly adopted, namely, that the oak was worshipped primarily for the many benefits which our rude forefathers derived from the tree, particularly for the fire which they drew by friction from its wood; and that the connexion of the oak with the sky was an after-thought based on the belief that the flash of lightning was nothing but the spark which the sky-god up aloft elicited by rubbing two pieces of oak-wood against each other, just as his savage worshipper kindled fire in the forest on earth. on that theory the god of the thunder and the sky was derived from the original god of the oak; on the present theory, which i now prefer, the god of the sky and the thunder was the great original deity of our aryan ancestors, and his association with the oak was merely an inference based on the frequency with which the oak was seen to be struck by lightning. if the aryans, as some think, roamed the wide steppes of russia or central asia with their flocks and herds before they plunged into the gloom of the european forests, they may have worshipped the god of the blue or cloudy firmament and the flashing thunderbolt long before they thought of associating him with the blasted oaks in their new home. perhaps the new theory has the further advantage of throwing light on the special sanctity ascribed to mistletoe which grows on an oak. the mere rarity of such a growth on an oak hardly suffices to explain the extent and the persistence of the superstition. a hint of its real origin is possibly furnished by the statement of pliny that the druids worshipped the plant because they believed it to have fallen from heaven and to be a token that the tree on which it grew was chosen by the god himself. can they have thought that the mistletoe dropped on the oak in a flash of lightning? the conjecture is confirmed by the name thunder-besom which is applied to mistletoe in the swiss canton of aargau, for the epithet clearly implies a close connexion between the parasite and the thunder; indeed "thunder-besom" is a popular name in germany for any bushy nest-like excrescence growing on a branch, because such a parasitic growth is actually believed by the ignorant to be a product of lightning. if there is any truth in this conjecture, the real reason why the druids worshipped a mistletoe-bearing oak above all other trees of the forest was a belief that every such oak had not only been struck by lightning but bore among its branches a visible emanation of the celestial fire; so that in cutting the mistletoe with mystic rites they were securing for themselves all the magical properties of a thunder-bolt. if that was so, we must apparently conclude that the mistletoe was deemed an emanation of the lightning rather than, as i have thus far argued, of the midsummer sun. perhaps, indeed, we might combine the two seemingly divergent views by supposing that in the old aryan creed the mistletoe descended from the sun on midsummer day in a flash of lightning. but such a combination is artificial and unsupported, so far as i know, by any positive evidence. whether on mythical principles the two interpretations can really be reconciled with each other or not, i will not presume to say; but even should they prove to be discrepant, the inconsistency need not have prevented our rude forefathers from embracing both of them at the same time with an equal fervour of conviction; for like the great majority of mankind the savage is above being hidebound by the trammels of a pedantic logic. in attempting to track his devious thought through the jungle of crass ignorance and blind fear, we must always remember that we are treading enchanted ground, and must beware of taking for solid realities the cloudy shapes that cross our path or hover and gibber at us through the gloom. we can never completely replace ourselves at the standpoint of primitive man, see things with his eyes, and feel our hearts beat with the emotions that stirred his. all our theories concerning him and his ways must therefore fall far short of certainty; the utmost we can aspire to in such matters is a reasonable degree of probability. to conclude these enquiries we may say that if balder was indeed, as i have conjectured, a personification of a mistletoe-bearing oak, his death by a blow of the mistletoe might on the new theory be explained as a death by a stroke of lightning. so long as the mistletoe, in which the flame of the lightning smouldered, was suffered to remain among the boughs, so long no harm could befall the good and kindly god of the oak, who kept his life stowed away for safety between earth and heaven in the mysterious parasite; but when once that seat of his life, or of his death, was torn from the branch and hurled at the trunk, the tree fell--the god died--smitten by a thunderbolt. and what we have said of balder in the oak forests of scandinavia may perhaps, with all due diffidence in a question so obscure and uncertain, be applied to the priest of diana, the king of the wood, at aricia in the oak forests of italy. he may have personated in flesh and blood the great italian god of the sky, jupiter, who had kindly come down from heaven in the lightning flash to dwell among men in the mistletoe--the thunder-besom--the golden bough--growing on the sacred oak in the dells of nemi. if that was so, we need not wonder that the priest guarded with drawn sword the mystic bough which contained the god's life and his own. the goddess whom he served and married was herself, if i am right, no other than the queen of heaven, the true wife of the sky-god. for she, too, loved the solitude of the woods and the lonely hills, and sailing overhead on clear nights in the likeness of the silver moon looked down with pleasure on her own fair image reflected on the calm, the burnished surface of the lake, diana's mirror. lxix. farewell to nemi we are at the end of our enquiry, but as often happens in the search after truth, if we have answered one question, we have raised many more; if we have followed one track home, we have had to pass by others that opened off it and led, or seemed to lead, to far other goals than the sacred grove at nemi. some of these paths we have followed a little way; others, if fortune should be kind, the writer and the reader may one day pursue together. for the present we have journeyed far enough together, and it is time to part. yet before we do so, we may well ask ourselves whether there is not some more general conclusion, some lesson, if possible, of hope and encouragement, to be drawn from the melancholy record of human error and folly which has engaged our attention in this book. if then we consider, on the one hand, the essential similarity of man's chief wants everywhere and at all times, and on the other hand, the wide difference between the means he has adopted to satisfy them in different ages, we shall perhaps be disposed to conclude that the movement of the higher thought, so far as we can trace it, has on the whole been from magic through religion to science. in magic man depends on his own strength to meet the difficulties and dangers that beset him on every side. he believes in a certain established order of nature on which he can surely count, and which he can manipulate for his own ends. when he discovers his mistake, when he recognises sadly that both the order of nature which he had assumed and the control which he had believed himself to exercise over it were purely imaginary, he ceases to rely on his own intelligence and his own unaided efforts, and throws himself humbly on the mercy of certain great invisible beings behind the veil of nature, to whom he now ascribes all those far-reaching powers which he once arrogated to himself. thus in the acuter minds magic is gradually superseded by religion, which explains the succession of natural phenomena as regulated by the will, the passion, or the caprice of spiritual beings like man in kind, though vastly superior to him in power. but as time goes on this explanation in its turn proves to be unsatisfactory. for it assumes that the succession of natural events is not determined by immutable laws, but is to some extent variable and irregular, and this assumption is not borne out by closer observation. on the contrary, the more we scrutinise that succession the more we are struck by the rigid uniformity, the punctual precision with which, wherever we can follow them, the operations of nature are carried on. every great advance in knowledge has extended the sphere of order and correspondingly restricted the sphere of apparent disorder in the world, till now we are ready to anticipate that even in regions where chance and confusion appear still to reign, a fuller knowledge would everywhere reduce the seeming chaos to cosmos. thus the keener minds, still pressing forward to a deeper solution of the mysteries of the universe, come to reject the religious theory of nature as inadequate, and to revert in a measure to the older standpoint of magic by postulating explicitly, what in magic had only been implicitly assumed, to wit, an inflexible regularity in the order of natural events, which, if carefully observed, enables us to foresee their course with certainty and to act accordingly. in short, religion, regarded as an explanation of nature, is displaced by science. but while science has this much in common with magic that both rest on a faith in order as the underlying principle of all things, readers of this work will hardly need to be reminded that the order presupposed by magic differs widely from that which forms the basis of science. the difference flows naturally from the different modes in which the two orders have been reached. for whereas the order on which magic reckons is merely an extension, by false analogy, of the order in which ideas present themselves to our minds, the order laid down by science is derived from patient and exact observation of the phenomena themselves. the abundance, the solidity, and the splendour of the results already achieved by science are well fitted to inspire us with a cheerful confidence in the soundness of its method. here at last, after groping about in the dark for countless ages, man has hit upon a clue to the labyrinth, a golden key that opens many locks in the treasury of nature. it is probably not too much to say that the hope of progress--moral and intellectual as well as material--in the future is bound up with the fortunes of science, and that every obstacle placed in the way of scientific discovery is a wrong to humanity. yet the history of thought should warn us against concluding that because the scientific theory of the world is the best that has yet been formulated, it is necessarily complete and final. we must remember that at bottom the generalisations of science or, in common parlance, the laws of nature are merely hypotheses devised to explain that ever-shifting phantasmagoria of thought which we dignify with the high-sounding names of the world and the universe. in the last analysis magic, religion, and science are nothing but theories of thought; and as science has supplanted its predecessors, so it may hereafter be itself superseded by some more perfect hypothesis, perhaps by some totally different way of looking at the phenomena--of registering the shadows on the screen--of which we in this generation can form no idea. the advance of knowledge is an infinite progression towards a goal that for ever recedes. we need not murmur at the endless pursuit: fatti non foste a viver come bruti ma per seguir virtute e conoscenza. great things will come of that pursuit, though we may not enjoy them. brighter stars will rise on some voyager of the future--some great ulysses of the realms of thought--than shine on us. the dreams of magic may one day be the waking realities of science. but a dark shadow lies athwart the far end of this fair prospect. for however vast the increase of knowledge and of power which the future may have in store for man, he can scarcely hope to stay the sweep of those great forces which seem to be making silently but relentlessly for the destruction of all this starry universe in which our earth swims as a speck or mote. in the ages to come man may be able to predict, perhaps even to control, the wayward courses of the winds and clouds, but hardly will his puny hands have strength to speed afresh our slackening planet in its orbit or rekindle the dying fire of the sun. yet the philosopher who trembles at the idea of such distant catastrophes may console himself by reflecting that these gloomy apprehensions, like the earth and the sun themselves, are only parts of that unsubstantial world which thought has conjured up out of the void, and that the phantoms which the subtle enchantress has evoked to-day she may ban to-morrow. they too, like so much that to common eyes seems solid, may melt into air, into thin air. without dipping so far into the future, we may illustrate the course which thought has hitherto run by likening it to a web woven of three different threads--the black thread of magic, the red thread of religion, and the white thread of science, if under science we may include those simple truths, drawn from observation of nature, of which men in all ages have possessed a store. could we then survey the web of thought from the beginning, we should probably perceive it to be at first a chequer of black and white, a patchwork of true and false notions, hardly tinged as yet by the red thread of religion. but carry your eye farther along the fabric and you will remark that, while the black and white chequer still runs through it, there rests on the middle portion of the web, where religion has entered most deeply into its texture, a dark crimson stain, which shades off insensibly into a lighter tint as the white thread of science is woven more and more into the tissue. to a web thus chequered and stained, thus shot with threads of diverse hues, but gradually changing colour the farther it is unrolled, the state of modern thought, with all its divergent aims and conflicting tendencies, may be compared. will the great movement which for centuries has been slowly altering the complexion of thought be continued in the near future? or will a reaction set in which may arrest progress and even undo much that has been done? to keep up our parable, what will be the colour of the web which the fates are now weaving on the humming loom of time? will it be white or red? we cannot tell. a faint glimmering light illumines the backward portion of the web. clouds and thick darkness hide the other end. our long voyage of discovery is over and our bark has drooped her weary sails in port at last. once more we take the road to nemi. it is evening, and as we climb the long slope of the appian way up to the alban hills, we look back and see the sky aflame with sunset, its golden glory resting like the aureole of a dying saint over rome and touching with a crest of fire the dome of st. peter's. the sight once seen can never be forgotten, but we turn from it and pursue our way darkling along the mountain side, till we come to nemi and look down on the lake in its deep hollow, now fast disappearing in the evening shadows. the place has changed but little since diana received the homage of her worshippers in the sacred grove. the temple of the sylvan goddess, indeed, has vanished and the king of the wood no longer stands sentinel over the golden bough. but nemi's woods are still green, and as the sunset fades above them in the west, there comes to us, borne on the swell of the wind, the sound of the church bells of aricia ringing the angelus. _ave maria!_ sweet and solemn they chime out from the distant town and die lingeringly away across the wide campagnan marshes. _le roi est mort, vive le roi! ave maria!_ the christian mythology. by brigham leatherbee "knowledge is power, but ignorance is the mother of devotion." new york: the truth seeker company, vesey street. contents. i. the virgin birth. ii. pagan miracles. iii. spurious relics. iv. trial and execution myths. v. distorted prophecies. vi. the resurrection. vii. miracles. viii. atonement and salvation by faith. ix. the trinity--mariolatry. x. saints--good and evil spirits. xi. religious holidays and rites. xii. the eucharist. xiii. spread of christianity. the christian mythology. that christianity, as to-day presented by the orthodox, is far different from the christianity promulgated by the early fathers, few are so blinded as to doubt. christianity, like all other religions, came not into the world full-grown, but from the simple conceptions of its early followers became gradually elaborated by the introduction of pagan forms and customs until it supplanted its early rivals and gave its adherents a compact and solid theology not very different from that of its predecessors. however, before considering the genealogy of christianity, or its heirlooms from paganism, let us turn our attention to what were presumably the beginnings of the religious views of mankind. probably the true source of that human characteristic which is defined as the religious instinct and which is supposed to be an elevating and moral agent, is to be found in the superstition which originated in fear of the unknown. the first ages of human life were so devoted to the animal needs that little attention was given to anything else, but later the craving for protection and help from some power greater than himself led primitive man to look about him for something to sustain and aid him in his struggle for existence. surrounded by natural phenomena of which he could give no explanation satisfactory to his experience, he came to the conclusion that he was in an environment permeated with bodiless intelligences who governed these matters by supernatural power. awed to fear by the inexplicable workings of nature, he sought to propitiate the spiritual agencies by bribes, and he did all things for them which he thought would be agreeable to them to keep them in good-natured interest or indifference toward him. and, naturally, he considered that what would be pleasing to himself would be pleasing to them. therefore, his offerings and his conduct towards these spirits were such as he would have desired shown toward himself. death and its imitation, sleep, being the greatest mysteries confronting him, he naturally began to consider the spirits of the dead, with whom he seemed to have intercourse in his dreams, as being influential factors in his career; and thus originated ancestor-worship with its highly-developed rites and sacrifices, which in a modified form still exists in the roman church in the practice of reading masses for the souls of the dead. at the same time, noticing the great benefits derived from the warmth of the sun, to whose rays he owed his subsistence and whose glorious and awful presence was constantly before him, man began to feel grateful to that mighty power which was the source of all his welfare, and, appreciating that all terrestrial life depended upon it, he came to recognize it as the great creative power. from such superstitious fear and weakness of primitive man arose all those religious feelings which the pious call instinctive and which have, through progress, evolution, and elaboration, controlled certain races, and from whose union have arisen all the religious systems that have ever flourished. owing to the varied influences of climate, environment, and racial character, the various forms of worship predominating in different geographical situations have naturally assumed different characteristics, but, when stripped of their surrounding, and often enveloping rites, ceremonies, and superficialities they may all be traced to the above-mentioned fundamental sources. it is my intention to show, as briefly as possible, that in the christianity of to-day we have nothing new nor of vital difference from what has always been taught and believed in the many epochs of the past. in common with all religious systems, christianity has a hero--the personified sun-god of all time--who is of obscure origin, who passes through various episodes common to all, who is finally executed, and who rises once more to renewed power. in our perusal of the subject, we shall first consider the life of jesus as taught by the christian church; secondly, the dogmas affecting the source of his power and the results of his influence; and, thirdly, the rites and ceremonies with which his worship is performed. i--the virgin birth. some two thousand years ago there is said to have appeared in the notoriously rebellious province of galilee, the headquarters of hebrew radicalism, a wandering teacher called jesus, who passed from village to village expounding certain ethical and socialistic ideas, which were condemned by the roman government and which resulted in this man's arrest and subsequent execution. after his death, his various pupils continued to preach his theories, and, separating, spread these ideas over various parts of the then civilized world. these pupils, naturally, having a firm belief in their former leader, and desiring to strengthen in every possible manner their faith as well as to increase the number of their proselytes, and, also, being themselves more or less affected by the ancient messianic idea, did not deny jesus more than mortal powers, and allowed certain pagan theories of deity to creep into their faith. later, when the vicious and crafty constantine found it advisable for political reasons to adopt christianity as the state religion, the great mass of roman worshipers merely transferred the attributes of their ancient deities to the objects venerated by the new sect. there was nothing new in bestowing a divine origin on jesus. all the lesser gods of antiquity were the sons of zeus, and, in later times, monarchs were accorded the same origin. it was a common myth of all ancient peoples that numerous beings derived their birth from other than natural causes. virgins gave birth to sons without aid of men. zeus produced offspring without female assistance. almost all the extraordinary men that lived under the old heathen mythology were reputed to have been the sons of some of the gods. the doctrine of the virgin birth is perhaps one of the oldest of religious ideas; it is so universal that its origin is impossible to trace. therefore, no wonder is excited when we find that most of the religious leaders have been of celestial origin. krishna, the indian savior, was born of a chaste virgin called devaki, who, on account of her purity, was selected to become the mother of god. gautama buddha was born of the virgin maya and "mercifully left paradise and came down to earth because he was filled with compassion for the sins and miseries of mankind. he sought to lead them into better paths, and took their sufferings upon himself that he might expiate their crimes and mitigate the punishment they must otherwise inevitably undergo." the great father of gods and men sent a messenger from heaven to the mexican virgin, sochiquetzal, to inform her that it was the will of the gods that she should immaculately conceive a son. as a result she bore quetzalcoatl, the mexican savior, who "set his face against all forms of violence and bloodshed, and encouraged the arts of peace." the mexican god huitzilopochtli was likewise immaculately conceived by a woman who, while walking in a temple, beheld a ball of feathers descending in the air. she grasped this and placed it in her bosom. it gradually disappeared and her pregnancy resulted. the mexican montezumas were later supposed to have been immaculately conceived by a drop of dew falling on the exposed breast of the mother as she lay asleep. the siamese have a virgin-born god and savior whom they call codom; the chinese have several virgin-born gods, one being the result of his mother's having become impregnated by merely treading on the toe-print of god; while the egyptians bowed in worship before the shrine of horus, son of the virgin isis. setting aside the mythological interpretation of the miraculous conception of jesus and the theory that his history is entirely fictitious, and viewing his birth from a natural human standpoint, even admitting that he may have been a "divinely inspired man," a little better than any other human being, there seems to be only one explanation for his peculiar conception as recorded in luke i. some critics of the rational school have not failed to notice a solution of the problem in the appearance of the angel gabriel and his private interview with mary (luke i, - ). say they very pertinently, why may not some libidinous young man, having become enamoured of the youthful wife of the aged joseph, and, knowing the prophecy of the messiah, have visited the object of his desire in angelic guise and, having won her confidence in this rôle, gained those favors that produced the miraculous birth? and such an explanation is not improbable when we consider that it is an historical fact that young and confiding women often resorted to the pagan temples at the instigation of the unscrupulous, where they enjoyed the embraces of ardent but previously unsuccessful lovers, under the impression that they were being favored by deities. so those christians whose reasoning powers will not allow them to believe in the absurdity of an unnatural conception, and whose superstitious adoration will not permit of their believing mary guilty of an intentional faux pas, try in this manner to reconcile the two, and declare joseph the guilty man. according to the gospels, joseph, the husband, knowing mary to be with child, married her (matt. i, ); but that is no reason for believing that he regarded the holy ghost's responsibility for his wife's condition with faith. he told of a dream in which he had been informed that such was the case (matt. i, - ). he may have believed the dream, and he may not. the most sensible view is that he, "being a just man," took this method of preserving her reputation, and that he himself was the actual parent. having betrayed the girl, he honestly married her, but, to defend her and himself from the accusation of a serious misdemeanor among the jews (deut. xxii), he invented the dream story to account for her unfortunate condition. girls have ever told improbable stories to explain like misfortunes. danæ concocted the shower of gold yarn; leda preferred to accuse herself of bestiality with a swan to acknowledging a lover, and europa blamed a bull. modern damsels have invented more modern but just as innocent agents. it would seem from the subsequent actions and words of mary that she must have forgotten that her son was miraculously conceived of god, for we find her reproaching him for remaining in the temple of jerusalem to argue with the rabbis with, "son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and i have sought thee sorrowing" (luke ii, ). again, when simeon and anna proclaimed the messiahship of jesus (luke ii, - ; - ), we are told that "joseph and his mother marveled at those things which were spoken of him" (luke ii, ). this would hardly have been the case had they already known him as "the son of the highest, who shall reign over the house of jacob forever" (luke i, - ). neither would mary, had she realized that she was the mother of god, have considered it necessary to resort to the temple (luke ii, - ) to be purified from the stains of her childbirth. women, having borne natural children, were considered to have become defiled in the act of parturition, through the contact of the perpetually active agency of original sin, whereof they must be purified. the mere fact of her submitting to such a churching is evidence that mary did not know that she had done anything remarkable in bearing jesus, and was ignorant of an unusual conception. their neighbors, despite the dream, always recognized jesus as joseph's son (matt. xii, ; luke iv, ; john ii, ; vi, ; nicodemus i, ). the orthodox explain this on the supposition that joseph and mary kept all these things in their hearts, and did not tell the actual facts of the case, which seems unlikely. joseph would want to explain the early birth of jesus, and mary would be desirous of saving her reputation, and both would naturally boast of the honor conferred by the holy ghost, had they known of it, for in such case joseph's relation to his god was the same as that of the peasant to his seigneur in the days of the jus primæ noctis. the liaison was an honor, and would have been related to save jesus from the disagreeable allusions made by his neighbors regarding his birth (john viii, ). conforming to the narrations of the miraculous conception in luke, mary, and the protevangelion, is an old miracle play called "joseph's jealousy," in which we find a very natural picture of the good old husband discovering a condition in his wife for which he is not responsible and accusing her in plain old english of adorning his brow with antlers. the following is the dialogue as given in hone's "ancient mysteries described": jos. say me, mary, this childys fadyr who is? i pry the telle me, and that anon? mry. the fadyr of hevyn, & se, it is, other fadyr hath he non. to which joseph very naturally replies in a burst of anger: jos. goddys childe! thou lyist, in fay! god dede nevyr rape so with may. but yit i say, mary whoos childe is this? mry. goddys and your, i sey, i wys. then in wrath at her obstinacy he breaks forth: jos. ya, ya! all olde men, to me take tent, & weddyth no wyff, in no kynnys wyse. alas! alas! my name is shent; all men may me now dyspyse, & seyn olde cokwold. mary tries to explain and says that her child is from god alone and that she was so informed by an angel. the suspicious joseph will not be deceived, and gives way to some words that have since been accepted as a true explanation of the miraculous conception: jos. an a'gel! alas, alas! fy for schame! ye syn now, in that ye to say; to puttyn an a'ngel in so gret blame. alas, alas! let be do way; it was s'n boy began this game, that closhyd was clene and gay, & ye geve hym now an a'ngel name. the old prophecy in isaiah (vii, ) that a virgin shall bear a son loses its utility when we recognize that this was the sign given ahaz that god would preserve his kingdom, although he was then threatened by a coalition of the kings of ephraim and syria. if the prophecy referred to the christ, how could it have any influence on ahaz? how could he be calmed and made to preserve his courage in the face of danger by a sign which would not be given until centuries after he slept with his fathers? but such was not the case. isaiah made his sign appear as he had promised (vii, ), "before the child shall know to refuse evil, and choose the good, the land that thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of both her kings" (the rulers of israel and syria). now, this prophecy was fulfilled, either by the trickery of the prophet or the compliance of a virgin, for we find in the next chapter (isaiah viii, ), "and i went unto the prophetess; and she conceived and bare a son." and that is the whole story. to apply it to the mythical birth of jesus is puerile. no one can doubt that so good a jew as josephus believed in the prospect of a messiah, yet so little did isaiah's prophecy impress him that he did not even mention the virgin episode. probably, on the whole, he thought it a rather contemptible bit of trickery and rather detrimental to the memory of isaiah. james orr, in his treatise written expressly to prove the historical fact of the virgin birth, denies that the prophecy of isaiah could be applied to jesus. here we have an orthodox writer who firmly believes in the miraculous conception, shattering the great cornerstone of the church's foundation for this belief. he says that the word "almah" was not hebrew for virgin at all, but meant only a marriageable young woman. he says it can have no connection with jesus, and thus he agrees with thomas paine, but for opposite reasons. while orr evidently considers that all pagan tales of divine paternity are legends, he affirms that the case of jesus is genuine. just why god became deus genetrix only once, he does not explain. if god approved of this method of creation, he would surely have performed it more than once. that he should have chosen a woman at all seems strange, when he could have produced jesus without female assistance. why should he have given his son, coexistent with the father, and, as such, undoubtedly of a fully developed intelligence, all the discomfort and danger of infantile life? if jesus were but another phase of the godhead, one of the divine eternal trinity, it was degrading and ridiculous to have inflicted him with the processes of foetal life, with all the embryonic phases of development from ovule, through vertebrate and lower form to human guise; to have given him the dangers of human gestation and parturition, the inconvenience of childhood, with teething and other infantile discomforts, and the slow years of growth. why did he inflict all these things on a part, a third, of himself, in many years of preparation for but a few years of preaching, when he could have produced the christ in a wonderful manner, full grown in all the beauty and dignity and strength of perfect and sublime manhood? probably some will answer that then jesus would have been regarded as an impostor. but no more doubt could be cast on such an appearance than has been thrown on the doubtful story of the purity of mary. orr, in his haste to prove his belief, gives a very good argument against it (page ) in the words, "the idea of a virgin birth ... was one entirely foreign to jewish habits of thought, which honored marriage, and set no premium on virginity." therefore, it could not have been of jewish origin. the jews never accepted it, and it grew up only under the influence of gentile converts. it was an idea of classic paganism, an adoption of universal phallism, this conception of a divine impregnation. the doctrine that by conjunction with a woman, god begat the christ is merely another phase of the phallic idea of the procreative principles of the deity--it is another form of the deus genetrix, the generative principle of male procreation. ii.--pagan parallels. the orthodox church denies that the christ had any brothers and declares that jesus was the only child of mary, in spite of gospel testimony to the contrary. matthew i, , referring to joseph, says, "and he knew her not till she had brought forth her first-born son," which implies that after his birth marital relations began between joseph and mary, from which other children were born, for how, otherwise, could jesus have been the "first-born"? that jesus had both brothers and sisters is declared in matthew xii, ; xiii, , ; mark iii, ; vi, ; luke viii, - ; john ii, ; vii, , , , and acts i, , while paul in galatians i, , expressly names "james, the lord's brother." as the veneration for mary increased under the influence of the pagan conceptions of an immaculate mother-queen of heaven, these simple and natural consequences of her marriage could not be tolerated, even allowing for the exceptional conception of jesus, and the orthodox began to assert that mary was not only an uncontaminated virgin at the birth of jesus, but that by miracle she did not lose her virginity by that event. they attempted to explain the above references, first, by asserting that these children were of joseph by a previous marriage, and later, when they felt it necessary to endow the consort of their pure mother with perfect celibacy, they named them as cousins only. jerome was so strong a champion for joseph's virginity that he considered epiphanius guilty of impious invention for supporting the earlier belief regarding jesus' brethren. the buddhists were far wiser than the christians and eluded all such difficulties by causing maya to die seven days after the birth of sakyamuni, and by asserting such to have been the case with all the mothers of the buddhas. at the time of jesus' birth a brilliant star is believed to have heralded the event, and has passed into tradition as "the star of bethlehem." there is nothing novel in this idea, as all ancient peoples were very superstitious about the celestial bodies, firmly believing in astronomical influences on human affairs, and it seems to have been a common idea that the births of great men were announced by the presence of peculiar stars. in china, a new star appeared at the birth of yu, founder of the first dynasty, as was also the case when the sage laoutze was born, while in mexico the "morning star" was the symbol of the national savior quetzalcoatl. the primitive christians, however, did not have to look so far for such an idea, but easily found a parallel in the unusual star reported by the friends of terah to have appeared on the night of abraham's birth, which they said shone so brightly in the east. not only was the birth of the messiah announced by the brilliant star, but it was also celebrated by the singing of the heavenly host. similar phenomena occurred at the birth of krishna, when "the clouds emitted low pleasing sounds and poured down a rain of flowers." on the eve of the birth of confucius "celestial music sounded in the ears of his mother"; at buddha's a "marvelous light illumined the earth"; and at the birth of osiris a voice was heard proclaiming that the ruler of the earth was born. the savior having been born, he must necessarily be recognized, so the myth of the wise men and their gifts follows--in a fashion very similar to that told of the other saviors. the marvelous infant buddha was visited at the time of his birth by wise men who immediately recognized in him all the characteristics of divinity. at the time of confucius' birth "five celestial sages entered the house whilst vocal and instrumental music filled the air." mithras, the persian savior, was visited by wise men called magi at the time of his birth, and was presented by them with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh; and the same story is told by plato in relation to the birth of socrates. while it is claimed for all the world's saviors that they were borne by virgins and begotten by god, genealogies of royal descent are traced for them through the husbands of their mothers in a most illogical manner. as may be seen in the new testament, the pedigree of jesus is most elaborately set forth in both matthew and luke, who claim that through joseph (whose parentage is denied) the christ was a direct descendant of king david, though, strange to relate, the connecting generations are different in one inspired gospel from what they are in the other. krishna, in the male line, was of royal descent, being of the house of yadava, the oldest and noblest of india; and buddha was descended from maha sammata, the first monarch of the world. therefore, it is not surprising to find a royal pedigree for the god christ, especially when the religious position occupied by the king in rude societies is considered. the kaffres acknowledge no other gods than their monarch, and to him they address those prayers which other nations are wont to prefer to the supreme deity. every schoolboy knows of the apotheosis of the roman emperors, and the monarchs of mexico and peru were regarded as divinities. every king of egypt was added to the list of gods and declared to be the son of ra, and even, in some cases, was made the third person of a trinity. each denied that he owed his birth to the father from whom he inherited the crown, and claimed to have been miraculously begotten. special temples were erected for the worship of the kings, which was conducted by special priests. the parthian rulers of the arsacid house, likewise, claimed divinity and styled themselves brothers of the sun and moon. the fable of the slaughter of the innocents, which was merely a new form of the ancient myth of the dangerous child whose life is a constant menace to some tyrant, was copied from several ancient religions, and the flight of the holy family into egypt has its counterpart in other tales. king kansa sought the life of krishna and sent messengers to kill all infants in the neighboring places, but a heavenly voice warned his foster-father to fly with him across the river jumna, which was immediately done. salivahana, a virgin-born savior anciently worshiped in southern india, had a similar experience; and fable tells that at abraham's birth nimrod sought his life, fearing a prophecy that a child was born who should overthrow his power, and, as a result, he murdered , newly-born male children. at the time of moses' birth, pharaoh is said to have dreamed that a new-born child would cause egypt's ruin, and he ordered that all the new-born sons of israel should be cast into the nile. similar stories, familiar to all readers of the classics, are told of perseus, herakles, paris, jason, bacchus, romulus and remus. all these tales of the birth and early life of jesus are similar to those of the other and more ancient saviors, and so is the story of the temptation and the forty days' fast. moses fasted "forty days and forty nights" on the mount where he received the law (ex. xxiv, ; xxxiv, ; deut. ix, , ). elijah fasted "forty days and forty, nights" on mt. horeb (i kings xix, ). joachim, in shame at being childless, retired to the wilderness for a fast of "forty days and forty nights" (protevangelion i, , ). buddha fasted and held his breath until he became extremely weak, when mara, prince of evil, appeared and tempted him to break his fast by offering to make him emperor of the world. quetzalcoatl was also tempted by the devil during a forty days' fast; and the temptation of zoroaster forms the subject of many legends. all these myths readily implanted themselves in the christian mythology, but the execution of its hero gave a great opportunity for mythical expansion and elaboration. it is taught that jesus was crucified; whether he was or not nobody knows, although there are more pieces of the "true cross" extant than could ever have flourished as trees on mount calvary. if such a person as jesus of nazareth ever lived and was ever executed by the romans, it is very probable that he was hanged, and the gallows may, very likely, have been of a form similar to that of a rude cross. the term crucifixion does not necessarily imply that one must be nailed outspread upon a symmetrical cross. it was the ancient custom to use trees as gibbets for execution, or a rude cruciform gallows, often called a "tree" (deut. xxi, , ; nicodemus ix, ). to be hung on such a cross was anciently called hanging on a tree, and to be hung on a tree was crucifixion. this rough method of execution was later modified by the christians to the present theory of the crucifixion, as they very naturally desired to appropriate the cross for their own especial emblem, owing to the fact that its great antiquity as a universal religious symbol would aid in the propagation of their faith, and since its earliest inception, christianity has been ever prone to aid its proselyting by the adoption of pagan dogmas, symbols and practices from the so-called heathen theologies. of all religious symbols, the cross is the most ancient and sacred. it has from the earliest antiquity been the mystic emblem for reverence and awe, and appears to have been in the aboriginal possession of every ancient people. populations of essentially different culture, tastes, and pursuits have vied with one another in their superstitious adoration of it. greek crosses of equal arms adorned the tomb of midas of phrygia; and long before the time of the eutruscans, the inhabitants of northern italy erected crosses over the graves of their dead. the cross was common to mexico; white marble crosses were found on the island of saint ulloa by its discoverers; and it was greatly revered in paraguay and peru. while the origin of the cross, shrouded as it is in the mists of the remotest antiquity, has been the subject of much speculation which has resulted in numerous theories, it is, undoubtedly, a conventionalized result of primitive phallic ideas. sexual motives underlie and permeate all known religious systems. the idea of a creative god naturally gave rise to characteristic symbolical expression of the male and female principles, which were gradually modified and reduced to the tau (a gothic t), representing the male principle, and the ring, representing the female principle. as a complete expression of the creative power, these two symbols were often placed in conjunction; and the most ancient form of the conjunction was, probably, that of the crux ansata, known to the egyptians as "the emblem of life," which was very simply formed by placing the ring above the t. this emblem is sometimes called the "cross with the handle," because in ancient sculpture it is often represented as being carried by the ring. (see doane, "bible myths"; inman, "ancient faiths," etc.). this handled cross was also sacred to the babylonians and occurs repeatedly on their cylinders, bricks and gems. in ancient scandinavian mythology the great warrior god thor was always closely associated with a cruciform hammer, this being the instrument with which he killed the great mitgard serpent, with which he destroyed the giants, and performed other acts of heroism. cruciform hammers, with a hole at the intersection of the arms for the insertion of the haft, have been discovered in denmark, and were used in consecrating victims at thor's altars. the cross, or hammer, of thor is still used in iceland as a magical sign in connection with wind and rain, just as the corresponding sign of the cross is now used among the german peasantry to dispel a thunderstorm; both being expressions of the same idea that the cross is sacred to the god of thunder. as christians blessed the full goblet with the sign of the cross, so the ancient vikings made the sign of the hammer over theirs; and the signs were identical. the practice of making the sign of the cross before eating, which has, in protestant sects, degenerated to the saying of grace, which again has assumed the form of a prayer of thanks to god for bestowing the sustenance, was originally merely a method of prevention against demonical possession. it was thought that demons abounded everywhere and that one was very likely to imbibe one of these spirits unless he took the precaution of making the sign of the cross, which they could not endure and from which they fled. this belief in the efficacy of a talisman, universal among all peoples from the most barbarous to so-called civilized communities, was not only countenanced but encouraged by christianity, and even today we find orthodox christians who--although they cannot be called educated in the highest sense, yet are not to be classed as illiterate--who are still practicing it. every good catholic wears a scapular, and many a one carries a little image of some saint to ward off disaster. the sign of the cross is still used in time of danger and is considered a weapon of miraculous power. sword hilts are still constructed in the form of the cross to give fortune in battle, and the masts of ships with yards were once considered the symbol of the cross. the burial of the dead about churches is another modern form of the ancient superstition that within the shadow of the cross demons dare not disturb the body, which was necessary for resurrection and immortality. this idea is a descendant of the ancient savage notion that bodies in the vicinity of the idol were protected. even in our modern protestant cemeteries we constantly find crosses erected over the graves in the same superstitious manner, although in most cases it has become merely a surviving custom, the origin of which the performers do not know. iii.--spurious relics. accompanying the worship of the cross, we find among orthodox christians the adoration of the three nails of the passion which are nothing more than a union of the two egyptian forms of architecture--the obelisk, expressing the male idea, and the inverted pyramid, expressing the female. two of these nails are supposed to have been found in the time of constantine, who adorned his helmet and horse's bridle with them. rome, milan and treves each boast of possessing one of them, while still another may be seen at the church of the holy cross of jerusalem, where it is annually exposed to the veneration of the people. in pope innocent vi. appointed a festival for these holy nails. despite these facts, a legend arose in the latter part of the sixteenth century that these three nails were fashioned into an iron ring three-eighths of an inch broad and three-tenths thick and presented by the empress helena to constantine to protect him in battle, and that this ring was later used to support the golden plates of the celebrated iron crown of lombardy. in reference to the practice of relic worship in the christian church, it is interesting to note that numerous objects of worship seem endowed with remarkable powers of multiplication. the church of coulombs, diocese of chârtres; the cathedral of pry, the collegiate church of antwerp, the abbey of our savior at charroux, and the church of st. john lateran at rome, all boast themselves the sole possessors of the only authentic "holy prepuce," which was circumcised from jesus on the eighth day after his birth (luke ii, ), and preserved by the midwife in oil of spikenard, which was later poured upon his head and feet by mary magdalene (infancy ii, - ). likewise, there are numerous "holy shrouds." that at besancon, which was brought from palestine by crusaders about the beginning of the twelfth century, won fame by delivering the city from a destructive plague in , while that at turin had a festival instituted for it by pope julius ii. in . other authentic shrouds may be found at the church of st. cornelius at compeigne, in rome, milan, lisbon, and aix la chapelle. another much multiplied relic is the virgin's ring, supposed to have been the marriage ring used at the nuptials of joseph and mary. this sacred souvenir was discovered in by a jeweler of jerusalem and was readily recognized by its remarkable powers of healing and self-multiplication. many european churches claim to possess this ring and profess to expose it to the devout for veneration, but, undoubtedly, the most celebrated is that held by the cathedral of perouse. relic worship and belief in the miraculous powers residing in the bones of departed saints, which continues, despite the more general education of the laity, is by no means of christian origin. in ancient greece the bones of heroes were superstitiously regarded and those of hector of troy were sacredly preserved at thebes; the tools used in the construction of the trojan horse were kept at metapontum; the sceptre of pelops was held at chæroneia; the spear of achilles at phaselis; and the sword of memnon at nicomedia. miraculous statues of minerva that brandished spears, abounded, and paintings that could blush and images that could sweat also existed. in india there are numerous teeth of buddha which his worshipers believe capable of performing miracles; and his coat, which as prince siddhatto he laid aside on entering the priesthood, has been miraculously preserved, and is still shown. jerome, in defending the worship of relics which had been attacked by vigilantus of barcelona, did not deny that it was adopted from paganism, but commended it and explained that as this reverence had been previously "only given to idols, and was then to be detested, was now given to martyrs, and therefore to be received." iv.--trial and execution myths. that jesus should have been executed, either as an historical fact or as a mythological theory, is not remarkable; and even when considered in the light of his being one of the godhead, there is nothing new in the relation of his death. the idea of a dying god is very old. the grave of zeus was shown at crete, and the body of dionyseus was buried at delphi. osiris and buddha both died, and numerous deities were crucified. krishna, the indian god, suffered such execution, as did also the mexican savior quetzalcoatl. representations of krishna abound wherein he is depicted as nailed to a cross and having a round hole in his side. prometheus was nailed by hands and feet to mount caucasus, with arms extended in the form of a cross. so immeasurably voluminous have been the writings of the orthodox upon the trial, execution, and resurrection of jesus that it seems advisable to consider these matters, from a rational point of view, upon the hypothesis that such a man really lived and suffered experiences similar to those narrated in the gospels. with that premise the following views are offered: the attitude of jesus before pilate shows him to have been a willing martyr, yea, desirous of martyrdom. in all probability his fanatical mind believed that when the supreme moment should come, when his execution should take place, and when his death seemed instantly imminent, some great natural phenomenon would occur to save him. he undoubtedly believed that he would not die, but that god would miraculously interpose to rescue him and that at that time he would not only be saved, but that the kingdom of heaven would be established under his control. that this was his belief seems to be shown by his cry of disappointment when he realized that nothing supernatural was to prevent his death. when that moment of realization came, his surprise was evident and, unlike many of his courageous followers who died in calmness and bravery, he cried aloud in mental and physical anguish, "my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?" (matt. xxvii, ; mark xv, .) his indifferent bearing before pilate showed this faith in his redemption, for when the roman procurator courteously asked him if he were the king of the jews, he replied ambiguously, as had always been his practice, "thou sayest it" (matt. xxvii, ; mark xv, ; luke xxiii, ; john xviii, ; nicodemus iii, ). but such ambiguity, which had served very well among the lower classes who had flocked to hear and question him, was of no avail before the matter-of-fact roman, who, as an imperial officer, desired straightforward answers, and was little impressed by jesus' silence, except that he was rightfully astonished that when given the chance the prisoner should not have availed himself of it to explain his position. therefore, seeing jesus had no will to answer his questions except in an exasperating manner, after he had shown a willingness to save him, pilate delivered jesus over to the jews according to the custom of the romans in regard to the theological disputes of a subject people--but not until he had requested them to spare the preacher. had jesus given the roman a frank explanation of his position as an itinerant preacher, pilate would probably have saved him, but the chimerical idea of the interposition of god by a miracle, which would glorify him above all else that could occur, led jesus to make a willing sacrifice of himself and throw away the opportunity offered him by pilate. there is nothing noble nor grand in this impudent conduct toward the roman officer, but there is a good deal of justice and consideration in the conduct of pilate. there is nothing noble in jesus' willingness to die nor in his courting death at this trial, for it was entirely unnecessary and was desired on his part only because he expected a miraculous salvation. according to his belief, he was to be the gainer, and he staked his life for a heavenly glory and lost, although he was probably keen enough to see that in any case his death would increase his fame, for the execution of a fanatic always lends a little glory to a cause, no matter how base, as witness the desire of anarchists for martyrdom and the attitude with which they view those who die for their horrible ideas. the only question with the roman was as to whether jesus had proclaimed himself the king of the jews, and as he declined to answer this question, pilate could do nothing to save him. the blind hatred of orthodox christianity toward pilate is absurd. aside from the argument above, there is another reason why his memory should be leniently treated. according to the christian dogma, jesus was the son of god, and it was only by his sacrifice, by his actual death, that he could save man. by dying he took the sins of mankind upon himself, and thus became the savior. as the eternal son, knowing all things, as a part of the godhead, he knew his death must occur--that was his mission on earth. therefore, as instruments in the accomplishment of this grand plan, by which mankind was saved, and jesus became the savior, caiaphas and pontius pilate should be regarded as divine agents worthy of glory and praise. any other conclusion is entirely illogical. but then, who will look for logic in the dogmas of christianity? when one makes a logical investigation of this faith, he abandons its unreasonable teachings, which cannot be accepted by a logical mind. the person who allows his reason to govern his belief cannot in any way accept the teachings of the absurd and ridiculous christian cult. while suffering his execution, jesus, according to the gospel writers, lost both his moral and physical courage, and cried aloud in agony, "eli, eli, lama sabachthani?" in view of this fact, it seems impossible for reasonable creatures to accept the christian dogmas of the atonement and the trinity, for, if jesus were one of the godhead and had left his heavenly abode to descend to earth for the especial purpose of saving mankind by shedding his blood for them, he must necessarily have been aware of what was in store for him and have known all the details attendant upon his execution. looking at this fable rationally, jesus was inferior in courage to many of his followers. when we recall the innumerable martyrs who went to meet death with smiling lips, in perfect confidence, the wailing savior, with his doubting cry to god, presents anything but an impressive figure. surely, to burn at the stake, to lie under the axe, to endure the awful tortures of the inquisition, were fully as agonizing as a crucifixion; and yet men--and delicate women--who have never pretended to divinity, have borne these things silently. to be sure, the whole story of the christ is largely legendary and very uncertain, but, according to the gospels of matthew and mark, jesus was weak in his convictions, afraid to die for his own teachings, and on the whole, his conduct at the supreme moment reminds one of the weak french peasants of revolutionary times rather than the brave nobility. his peasant blood rose to the surface and in his fear he cried, "why hast thou forsaken me?" although but a few moments before he had assured one of the malefactors who suffered beside him that on this day he should be in paradise (luke xxiii, ). everything considered, it is not strange that the jews would not accept jesus as the awaited messiah who should free them from the yoke of rome. they desired a strong and powerful leader, not a socialistic wandering teacher, and the prophecies promised a ruler surpassing the wisdom and power of the gorgeous solomon. there is not one prophetic passage in the old testament that can properly be applied to jesus, although many have been distorted for such purpose. the jews looked upon him as an impostor and a revolutionist who not only pretended to be what he was not, but who disregarded their ancient laws and preached a doctrine contrary to that held by their rabbis. it was not until long after his death that he was regarded as a prophet, and it was not until every proof of his very existence had vanished that divine honors were paid him. to the jews he was a vagrant revolutionist worthy of death, and the jews knew him personally; to a large majority of twentieth century christians, he is a god, and they know absolutely nothing about him, save a collection of puerile myths which tax their credulity as children, but which as adults they accept. however, regarding the execution of jesus, there is always the legitimate doubt that it ever occurred. aside from the fact that the usual mode of death for criminals was by hanging, there is much internal evidence in the gospels themselves which points to the conclusion that the whole story of the execution and resurrection is mythical and was composed from various hebrew and pagan legends. the dying cry was copied verbatim from psalms xxii, , wherein david "complaineth in great discouragement" over his diseased condition. v.--distorted "prophecies." the jews, desirous that the spectacle of the execution should not pollute the sanctity of their sabbath, requested that the death of the victim might be hastened (john xix, ). therefore, according to custom, the roman soldiers broke the legs of the thieves, but, finding jesus already dead, they did not break his legs (john xix, ). in this the writer of john sees the fulfillment of a prophecy (john xix, ). in exodus xii, , occur the words "neither shall ye break a bone thereof," which were nothing more than a command of "the ordinance of the passover" (ex. xii, ), and applied to the sacrificial animals to be eaten then. but the gospel writers, delving for prophecies, saw with their queerly distorted eyes a prophecy in this and numbers ix, , regardless of the fact that for centuries, in celebrating the passover, the jews had conformed to this practice of not breaking the bones of the animals eaten. but the biographers saw jesus as the paschal lamb, and associated him with the meat of the passover. the tendency to regard his body as the solid of the eucharist has likewise aided in this construction of the passages in exodus and numbers into a prophecy. in david's apostrophe to the righteous he says that though their afflictions are many, "the lord delivereth him out of them all" and preserves him. "he keepeth all his bones; not one of them is broken" (psalm xxxiv, - ). this has no reference to the christ, but the distorted vision of the apostolic writer saw in it such an intent. he says (john xix, ), "for these things were done, that the scripture should be fulfilled, a bone of him shall not be broken." in order, however, to be sure that jesus was actually dead and, in case he was not, to hasten that event, one of the soldiers pierced his heart with a lance. here john sees another prophecy fulfilled (john xix, ), "they shall look on him whom they pierced." this refers to zechariah xii, , where we find the words, "and i will pour upon the house of david, and upon the inhabitants of jerusalem, the spirit of grace and supplications; and they shall look upon me whom they have pierced." this was the language of a prophet in a diatribe against the enemies of juda. how could the writer of john have seen a prophecy in this, when the context reads "in that day i will seek to destroy all the nations that come against jerusalem" (zech. xii, ), and when at the time of the crucifixion, jerusalem was in the hands of the romans? likewise, the writers of matthew and john saw in the drawing of lots by the soldiers at the foot of the cross for the garments of jesus--the usual custom regarding the minor possessions of executed criminals, which were always considered the spoil of the military guard--"the fulfillment of a prophecy" (matt. xxvii, john xix, , ) found in psalms xxii, , "they part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture," which really was a metaphorical expression of david concerning the treatment accorded him by his enemies. in the preceding verse , in the same relation and rhetorical figure, he says "they pierced my hands and my feet." on the whole, psalm xxii was a particularly happy composition for the christian adepts at misconstruction. neither mark nor luke refers to the fulfillment of a prophecy regarding the vestments, but content themselves with narrating the event (mark xv, ; luke xxiii, ). it was customary to give the condemned a drink of wine and myrrh to stupefy him and thus decrease the sufferings of execution. when this was offered to jesus he refused it (mark xv, ), probably because he wished to be perfectly conscious at the time when god should miraculously reprieve him. matthew, xxvii, , intentionally falsifies the episode and calls the drink vinegar and gall, so bound is he to see a messianic prophecy in psalms xix, , "they gave me also gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink," which words were really applied by david to his own personal enemies. vi.--the resurrection. regarding the resurrection, it is interesting to note that, whereas most crucified men lived a number of hours and even a day in this torture, the wounds in the hands not being mortal and the position only affecting the circulation, causing death by exhaustion or starvation, jesus lived only three hours. therefore, it may have been that he was not actually dead, but merely in a state of coma, or perhaps a cataleptic condition. the custom he had of using his subjective mind in telepathic cures, as told in the gospels, seems to point to this conclusion, that, being strongly subjective, his condition here was cataleptic. many cases are known of men having been restored after crucifixion, and, as the embalming given jesus in the jewish custom consisted in nothing more than a wrapping in a shroud with myrrh and aloes, there is nothing to oppose this hypothesis. after resting for a while in the tomb, he may have revived and gone out and been seen by others, after which he wandered away again to die in solitude from exhaustion and lack of food. it is more probable, however, that this legend was copied from those of other religious heroes, who likewise rose from the dead, as there seems to be much variance between the different versions of the visit of mary magdalene to the sepulchre and her meeting with christ. matthew says (xxviii, ) that mary magdalene and the other mary visited the sepulchre ( ), where they saw a male angel descend from heaven during an earthquake and roll back the stone from the door and sit upon it ( ). and he told them to "go quickly, and tell his disciples" that he had risen, which they did. but as they were going ( ) "jesus met them ... and they came ... and worshiped him." mark tells a similar story with some variations as to the angel, but he relates that jesus appeared first to mary magdalene "early the first day of the week" (xvi, ), and not on her visit with mary, the mother of james, and salome at the tomb. according to luke, the women went to the tomb, where they were informed by (xxiv, ) "two men in shining garments" that jesus had risen, and they left and told the apostles. no mention is made here of the encounter of mary magdalene. john, however, gives a more elaborate version. he narrates (xx) that mary, going early and alone to the tomb, which she found entirely empty, ran and informed peter, who verified her story and departed. after she was left alone she looked into the sepulchre again, where she beheld two angels, and on turning away saw jesus standing by her. setting aside the idea of a mythical plagiarism in these tales, and also the cataleptic theory already mentioned, and considering them from yet another point of view, we can still find a rational explanation. the meeting of jesus with mary may have been the hallucination of a hysterical woman. according to mark xvi, , and luke viii, , jesus had cast seven devils out of her, which is surely sufficient proof that she was of neurotic temperament and had been subject to delusions and hysteria. undoubtedly after the shock of witnessing the crucifixion and death of her master, for three gospels agree in stating that she was present (matt. xxvii, ; mark xv, ; john xix, ), this fond woman's mind, which seemed more normal in his presence, again gave way and she returned to her hysterical condition. on visiting the tomb, she found it empty because "his disciples came by night and stole him away," that they might declare he had risen from the dead, "as is commonly reported among the jews until this day" (matt. xxviii, - ). as she was leaving, she heard his voice (a common delusion of hysterical subjects) and saw his form (another hallucination), but when she went to touch him, she could not do so. the relation has all the marks of simple neurosis, and yet many modern christians base their whole faith upon the words of paul in corinthians xv, , "if christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain." as noted in various parts of this work, unless christians believe in the possibility of miracles, the power of a personal devil, and the physical resurrection of the body, there is no foundation for their faith, and it is a mockery. not satisfied with having executed their god according to the most approved methods of antiquity, christians felt the necessity of the presence of some remarkable natural phenomena at the time of his death, for among all ancient peoples it was customary to attribute some remarkable natural convulsions to the death of a great man. when prometheus was crucified on mount caucasus "the earth quaked, thunder roared, lightning flashed, wild winds rent the air and boisterous billows rose." on the death of romulus, there was "darkness over the face of the earth for six hours," and when quetzalcoatl died the sun became black! even in historical times, we find narrations of similar phenomena accompanying the deaths of royalty; and we read in many authenticated histories of the frightful thunderstorms that were coincident with the deaths of isabella of castile, charles the fifth, napoleon the great, and oliver cromwell. therefore, it is not surprising to find mention of such occurrences at the time of the execution of the christian god, although we are not prepared for such astonishing and unprecedented phenomena as related by the ever exaggerating author of the "gospel according to st. matthew," who states very seriously that "the vail of the temple was rent in twain from top to bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many." but the execution, while it completes the mortal life of the incarnate christian deity, by no means finishes the legend. like the gods of antiquity, the christ must also descend into hell and perform wonders similar to those of the ancient heroes. all the saviors of mankind had done so--zoroaster, the persian; osiris, the egyptian; baldur, the scandinavian; quetzalcoatl, the mexican; and krishna, the hindu; while ishtar voluntarily descended into the assyrian inferno. having descended into hell, resurrection was necessary, for it was unreasonable that the savior of mankind, the son of the supreme god, should remain perpetually in the place of punishment; and, as his life on earth was over, he could no longer abide there, and so the only plausible sequence was an ascension to heaven. krishna, the crucified hindu savior, rose from the dead and ascended bodily into the celestial regions, as did rama, another avatar of vishnu. buddha also ascended bodily into heaven when his mission on earth was fulfilled, and marks on the rocks of a high mountain are shown as the last impressions of his footsteps on earth. zoroaster and Æsculapius also had similar experiences, as did elijah and adonis. osiris rose from the dead and bore the title of "the resurrected one," his ascension being celebrated in egypt at the vernal equinox, as is the christ's and as was adonis'. other saviors who rose from the dead were dionysius, herakles, memnon, baldur and quetzalcoatl. modern catholics are still taught the fables of the bodily ascension of jesus, mary the virgin, and mary the magdalene and many other holy persons, as actual miraculous truths, not to be questioned nor denied. very good, but how can educated catholics of today reconcile such truths with their actual scientific knowledge? they know that the earth is spherical, that the stars and planets are members of solar systems, that outside the terrestrial atmosphere is nothing but vast space. there is no such place as a heaven anywhere in these celestial regions, and the zenith of any geographical situation changes every moment. clouds are mere masses of vapor, not furniture for the repose of the glorified dead. then whither did these adored beings ascend? certainly, god in his love for them never flung them far into space to whirl about for eternity. these catholics also know the law of gravitation, which would not allow of such a method of transportation. but why ask these questions? no religious person is capable of thinking sensibly on the teachings of his faith, no matter how ridiculous. he accepts, as an adult, what he questions as a child. while the idea of bodily ascension of the christ was probably copied into his biography from that of enoch (gen. v, ) and elijah ( kings ii, ), such stories form a large part of the annals of classical mythology, almost every hero of antiquity having been translated to the heavens when his earthly life was spent. the custom of converting the tombs of prominent christians into shrines likewise aided this belief, as, it being impossible to discover the burial places of the most conspicuous, the idea arose that they had been physically removed to heaven. the principal weakness of all the great theological systems now in practice is that they are terrestrial in their conception of god and man. their foundations were laid at a period when mankind knew little, and cared less, about the planets; at a period when it was presumed that the sun, moon, and stars were either beneficent deities or natural objects placed in the firmament to light the world and please the eye of man by their beauty. therefore god, as recognized in these systems, takes heed of naught else than this particular world. he totally ignores the other innumerable spheres of matter floating in space, many of which may support life. all his interests center on this infinitesimal portion of his creation. it is with the doings of the inhabitants of this planet that he is engaged. for this earth alone he creates man, animals and vegetables; to this alone, he sends his only son, or savior; and it is here, in the purified state, that the souls of men shall eternally dwell after the great judgment. since science has proved that our solar system is but one of the many, and that in this system the earth is not the largest nor most important body, should not such absurd theological ideas be abandoned and a grander and vaster conception of the deity be inaugurated? should not organized theology turn to nobler thoughts and say with paul, "when i was a child ... i thought as a child; but when i became a man, i put away childish things" ( cor. xiii, )? all such doctrines as predestination, which are based upon the sin of adam, are now anachronistic. the acceptance of the theory of evolution, which entirely destroys the reality of the mythical adam, sweeps away his biography and leaves no foundation for such dogmas. if the christian church desires to remain, she must cast aside these worthless doctrines, founded upon false hypotheses, when the minds of men were in darkness regarding the origin of species, and when they saw in these the only solution of their problem. having accomplished his ascension and entered on his eternal kingdom, one of the christ's attributes is that of judging the dead. this idea undoubtedly came from the alexandrian school of theology, where so many of the christian theories were promulgated, for one of the best-known attributes of osiris was that of the judge, and he was generally represented as seated on his throne of judgment, bearing a staff (the crozier of the modern bishop) and holding the crux ansata. buddha is also supposed to be the judge of the dead. in connection with the idea of the christ as the divine judge of men, certain sects of christians have advocated that of his return to earth at some future period, which will terminate all terrestrial life as it is known to-day, basing this belief upon jesus' own proclamation of his second advent, although in his prophecy he declared the coming of the kingdom of heaven to be soon after his death. he even told his disciples that they could not visit all the cities of israel before he should come again (matt. x, ); that their own generation should see these things (matt. xxiv, ; mark xiii, ); that some of those then listening to him should live to see his kingdom (matt. xvi, ; xxiii, ; xxiv, ; mark viii, ; luke ix, - ; xxi, ). such were his words, and it seems strange that people, believing these words, can still regard him as a very part of god. such improbabilities did jesus gradually grow to preach, and so wild did he become in his exhortations that even his disciples at times appear to have believed him mad (mark iii, ), an opinion in which his enemies agreed (mark iii, ; john vii, - ; viii, - ; x, ). they certainly had good cause for their suspicion. was not his conduct in cursing the fig tree for not bearing fruit out of season an act of lunacy (matt. xxi, - ; mark xi, - ), and likewise his arrogant assertion of the power of faith (matt. xvii, ; xxi, ; mark xi, ; luke xvii, )? it is, however, quite probable that this idea of a second advent was copied from the persian theology, it being one of the tenets of the zoroastrian religion that in the end ormuzd, god of light, should conquer ahriman, god of darkness, and that he should then summon the good from their graves, remove all evil from the face of nature, and permanently establish the kingdom of righteousness and virtue upon the earth. but such ideas are not unique to christians and persians. the hindus believe that vishnu will have another avatar; the siamese live in constant expectation of the second coming of codom; the buddhists are looking forward to the return of buddha; the jews are awaiting the messiah; and the disciples of quetzalcoatl expected that deity's second advent--and most unfortunately thought their dream realized on the arrival of the spaniards, who took advantage of their consequent submissiveness to exterminate them. vii.--miracles. it is customary among orthodox christians to assert that the godhead of their christ was fully proven by the many miracles attributed to him in the new testament. but one must not forget that the performance of miracles is one of the most common attributes of founders of new sects, and one which all religious charlatans claim. krishna lulled tempests, cured lepers, and restored the dead; buddha, zoroaster (who walked on water on his way to mount iran to receive the law), horus, Æsculapius, and innumerable others did likewise. mohammed, not content with miracles of the omnipotent physician type, juggled the moon through his sleeve. even to-day faith in miracles is not dead, and miracle-working attributes have been claimed for mrs. eddy, founder of christian science, dowie, founder of zion city, and sandford, leader of the holy ghost and us. there can be no doubt in the mind of a student of comparative theology that moncure d. conway was correct when he stated in his essay on christianity that "among all the miracles of the new testament not one is original. bacchus changed water into wine.... moses and elias also fasted forty days.... pythagoras had power to still waves and tempests at sea. elijah made the widow's meal and oil increase; elisha fed a hundred men with twenty loaves.... as for opening blind eyes, healing diseases, walking on water, casting out demons, raising the dead, resurrection, ascension, all these have been common myths--logic currency of every race." "one of the best attested miracles of all profane history is that which tacitus reports of vespasian, who cured a blind man in alexandria by means of his spittle, and a lame man by the mere touch of his foot, in obedience to a vision of the god serapis," says hume in his "essay on miracles," and we might here mention the numerous attested cures resulting from the laying on of royal hands by divinely appointed sovereigns. the rulers of france, aragon, and england touched for scrofula, this practice being continued by the latter from the period of its origin with edward the confessor until the accession of william the third, whose good sense put an end to it. james the second, the last practitioner of this art, had so great a belief in his curative powers that he set aside certain days on which he touched the afflicted from his throne at whitehall, while the sufferers came in throngs to kneel at his feet. the princes of the house of austria likewise held divine power and were supposed to be capable of casting out devils and curing stammering by the touch of their aristocratic fingers. numerous cases are narrated in which jesus, by simply touching the person of the afflicted, effected instantaneous cures. such were those of the leper (matt. viii, - ; mark i, - ; luke v, - ); the curing of peter's mother-in-law of a fever (matt. viii, - ; mark i, - ; luke iv, - ), although in the luke version he "rebuked" the fever; and the opening of the eyes of two blind men (matt. ix, - ). another method seems to have been by allowing the ill to touch him or his garments (matt. ix, - ; xiv, ; mark iii, ; v, - ; luke vi, ; viii, - ). at other times he simply told the patient, or the agent of the patient, that faith had effected the cure, as with the centurion's servant (matt. viii, - ; luke vii, - ) and the daughter of the canaanite (matt. xv, - ; mark vii, - ); or told the stricken to hold forth a withered arm or pick up his bed and walk, by which command the cure was completed (matt. ix, - ; xii, - ; mark ii, - ; luke v, - ). among all primitive peoples, the principal cause of disease was supposed to lie in the displeasure of some deity toward the afflicted person, who was punished by this deity for some offense or neglect (psalms xxxviii, ). one of the favorite methods of the gods in afflicting was sending evil and tormenting spirits into the body of the victim. after more was learned of disease, this theory gradually diminished in strength as regarded some troubles, but for centuries it was the universal theory that mental derangements and nervous afflictions were solely due to demoniacal possession, and all priests and medicine-men resorted to various exorcisms, from the primitive banging of gongs and tooting of trumpets to scare away the spirit, to the prayers and sprinkling of holy water of the mediæval church to rid the patient of the unwelcome inhabitant of his body. that jesus believed in this demoniacal possession is undoubted, and he effected his cures by ordering or calling out the devil from the body of the possessed. for example, there is a story of jesus driving devils into an innocent herd of swine (matt. viii, - ; mark v, - ; luke viii, - ). we also find him casting out and rebuking devils in various instances (matt. ix, - ; xii, - ; xvii, - ; mark i, - , ; iii, ; luke iv, - , ; ix, - ). in all probability, these medical miracles of jesus were copied from older legends by his biographers. but, even if they actually occurred, they were not miracles at all, for a miracle must be, in the very meaning of the word, performed by the suspension of a natural law, and from all gospel accounts the mental therapeutics of the christ were performed, if at all, in perfect accordance with well-established psychological laws. they had been performed years before his birth, and they have continued to be performed years after his death, even to the present time. through the force of faith, the patients were placed in passivity (hypnosis) and treated by suggestions being impressed upon their subjective minds, when present; at a distance, they were cured by the telepathic suggestions conveyed from the healer to their subjective mentalities. there is no miracle here; it is merely a demonstration of telepathic and hypnotic phenomena, governed by psychic laws, and does not place the christ on a higher intellectual plane than modern hypnotists and mental healers, who consciously and knowingly work within the dispensation of these laws. they are anything but proofs of the godhead of jesus. it would seem that the pharisees had some such idea in mind when they demanded an astronomical miracle and requested "a sign from heaven." but, unable to comply, he evaded this performance by calling them hypocrites and "an evil and adulterous generation," and saying, "there shall no sign be given unto this generation" (matt. xii, - ; xvi, - ; mark viii, - ; luke xi, , ; john ii, , ; vi, ). one of the commonest miracles ascribed to religious leaders of all sects and times, and one which never fails to convince witnesses and hearers of the authenticity of such a leader's claims, is that of restoring the dead to life. such miracles have been so well attested that there seems little reason to suppose them entirely fictitious. everyone has heard of cases of catalepsy, and medical history teems with cases of "suspended animation"; in fact, the only actual proof of death is the entire decomposition of the vital organs; therefore, the cruelty and crime of embalming corpses before such a condition is apparent. some undertakers actually insist upon embalming before such conditions, because the dead can then be made to "present a better appearance"! there are numerous well-proven cases of people lying for days in cataleptic conditions, even with slight signs of decomposition due to restricted circulation, and then returning to renewed lives and perfectly healthy states. all eastern travelers are familiar with the practices of hindu fakirs who allow themselves to be buried alive for weeks, and are "resurrected" without having suffered. therefore, it does not seem improbable that some such acts on the parts of various religious leaders may have occurred which have excited wonder with the ignorant, and interest among the educated. the early christians proclaimed many such wonderful works, albeit when challenged by a wealthy pagan to produce even one such case, in payment for which he would become a convert, a failure was the result. orthodox christians proclaim that jesus raised from death jairus' daughter, in entire forgetfulness of the actual words accredited to their leader, which were, "the maid is not dead, but sleepeth" (matt. ix, ; mark v, ; luke viii, ), showing his opinion that she was in a cataleptic condition. while neither of the first three gospels says aught of the raising of lazarus, we find it in john, who seems to have substituted it for the story of jairus' daughter, which does not appear in his gospel. according to this hyperbolical and probably demented authority, jesus raised lazarus to life after he had been dead four days (john xi, ), although jesus maintained that lazarus was not dead (john xi, ). he declared that "this sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of god, that the son of god might be glorified there-by" (john xi, ), or, in other words, jesus believed that the unfortunate lazarus was obliged to undergo this frightful experience that his seeming resurrection might cause gaping among the vulgar, and add to the prestige of the miracle worker. for this reason, he purposely postponed going to the dying man, whom he might have saved, that he might later have the glory of bringing him to life! excellent ethics! finally, however, when he did depart, he said positively, "our friend lazarus sleepeth; but i go, that i may awake him out of sleep" (john xi, ). having arrived at the sepulchre, he approached it, groaning and weeping, in a most theatrical manner, such as would appeal to a highly strung audience, and cried in a loud voice, "lazarus, come forth!" whereupon the dead man arose and came out (john xi, , , ). now, this may have been catalepsy, and it may have been the strong voice and will of the christ which caused the awakening, but, in all probability, if the affair ever occurred, it was a preconceived dramatic incident. all the actors were partisans of the professed messiah, and the whole story reads like a play, and undoubtedly the words "come forth" were the cue for the waiting man to appear. it is by such contemptible methods that religions are established. if the tale were due to the imagination of the author of john, it is most discreditable to him, and places his hero in a very bad light. if it actually occurred, it shows jesus as a vain-glorious boaster, anxious to show his power to the vulgar, and desirous of gaining a following by charlatanry, either by raising a hypnotized man or by creating a cheap melodrama. it had been prophesied ( esdras xiii, ) that the messiah should be a miracle worker, which probably caused jesus to affect this rôle when he accepted the part of the messiah, and to condescend to soil his mission by charlatanism, even to the raising of the dead in imitation of the former prophets, elijah and elisha (i kings xvii, - ; ii kings iv, - ). it is rather amusing to hear theodore christlieb, that well-named, sturdy old german supporter of orthodoxy, boldly assert in irrevocable simplicity and straightforwardness, in his "modern doubt and christian belief": "however much in other respects our opponents may differ, they all agree in the denial of miracles, and unitedly storm this bulwark of the christian faith; and in its defense we have to combat them all at once. but whence this unanimity? because with the truth of miracles the entire citadel of christianity stands or falls. [the italics are his own.] for its beginning is a miracle, its author is a miracle, its progress depends upon miracles, and they will hereafter be its consummation. if the principle of miracles be set aside, then all the heights of christianity will be leveled with one stroke, and naught will remain but a heap of ruins. if we banish the supernatural from the bible, there is nothing left us but the covers" (pages - ). viii.--atonement and salvation by faith. the dogma of the atonement which very naturally resulted from the theological interpretation of the crucifixion, was readily accepted by the christian church. the idea of averting disasters by sacrifice and thus causing one devoted victim to bear the load of the sins of others, in payment of which his death was acceptable, is one of the greatest antiquity, and we find sacrifices of various kinds offered to propitiate the deities, from the simple offerings of primitive man to the more elaborate sacrifices of a more complicated society. finally came the idea of human sacrifice and then the culminating theory of the sacrifice of a divine being whose suffering should atone for all the sins of mankind. the belief of redemption from sin by the sufferings of a divine incarnation was general and popular centuries before the time of jesus. in the temple of the moon the albanians of the eastern caucasus kept a number of sacred slaves. when one exhibited more than usual symptoms of inspiration, the high priest maintained him in the utmost luxury for a year, after which he was anointed and led forth to be sacrificed. after his death, the people stood upon the body as a purificationary ceremony, it being believed that the dead man was possessed of a divine spirit. the ancient greeks were also familiar with the use of the human scapegoat, and it was customary at marsailles, one of the busiest and most brilliant of the greek colonies, to sacrifice an inspired man when the city was ravaged by the plague. all are familiar with the old jewish practice of using the scapegoat as the vehicle for the expiation of sins, and the whole theory of the atonement is little more than a modernized expression of the old idea that the sins of the community may be delegated to one agent to be sacrificed for the purification of the rest. the prophecy, as it is called by john, made by caiaphas, the high priest, "it is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not" (john xi, ; xviii, ), which has been seized upon by the christians as a reference to the vicarious atonement, is nothing more than the opinion of an ardent orthodox jew that if jesus were permitted to live and preach he would destroy the ancient faith and his converts would abandon the old religion. the words "it is expedient for us" qualify the whole statement. they signified that the priesthood would be without a following were he allowed to continue. the idea of a vicarious atonement for all the people would have been of no expediency whatever to caiaphas and his class. they felt that if orthodoxy fell by jesus' preaching, the romans could easily crush them, for it was only by their union and the support of their ancient rites that they could form any front to the imperial government; it was by these alone that they had any political significance. once dismembered, the jews would be scattered to the corners of the earth (john xi, ). this was the meaning of caiaphas' words, and he was correct, for such was the actual case. when orthodoxy was undermined, the jewish nation was ruined. the doctrine that god was angry with humanity because of its ancestors' transgressions, and would forgive its sins only on its acceptance of belief in the godhead of jesus, is so entirely at variance with the jewish teachings, which held that god freely forgave penitents on the confession of their sins (ex. xxxiv, - ; neh. ix, ; ps. ciii, ; cxxx, ; is. xxxiii, ; dan. ix, ) that it was never accepted by them. some old christian writers believed that it was to the devil that the christ was sacrificed. their belief in the justice of the supreme would not allow them to think that he demanded the sacrifice of an innocent for the sins of the guilty. proclus of constantinople, in the age of austin, wrote that "the devil held us in a state of servitude, boasting that he had bought us. it was necessary, therefore, that all being condemned, either they should be dragged to death, or a sufficient price be paid; and because no angel had the wherewithal to pay it, it remained that god should die for us." while such an idea is certainly of a higher moral nature than that which states that god sacrificed his own innocent son for man, it has the unfortunate result of attributing to the devil greater power than to god; for if the devil could demand and receive a part of the god-head as ransom, then god himself was weaker than the arch fiend. hislop, in his "two babylons," commenting upon the chaldean doctrine that it was "by the works and merits of men themselves that they must be justified and accepted of god," utterly condemns it, and glories in the dogma of the atonement with great and illogical pleasure. having reviewed the egyptian belief that anubis weighed the merits and defects of departed souls, so that osiris, in accordance with the result, might judge and sentence them; and the parsee belief that the angel of justice sat on the bridge of chinevad, which connected heaven and earth, weighing souls to decide whether or not they should enter paradise, he condemns such theories as "utterly demoralizing," and asserts that no believer can ever have "any solid feeling of comfort, or assurance as to his prospects in the eternal world," which very fact would seem conducive to clean lives and good deeds. then he continues in ecstasy to exalt the immoral christian doctrine of "justification by faith alone," which he declares alone "can produce a life of loving, filial, hearty obedience to the law and commands of god," and by which man may reach salvation "absolutely irrespective of human merits, simply and solely through the righteousness of christ." this is one of the most absurd and immoral doctrines of all the absurd and immoral doctrines of christianity, and one which leads to all varieties of crime and misery. a man who believes that simple faith alone is a perfect and acceptable passport to eternal bliss will take no pains to lead either a decent or useful life. he is at liberty to commit all the crimes known to his nature; he may murder, steal, rape, and lie with impunity, for his faith in christ will save him from his well-deserved punishment; while a man of high ethical standards and immaculate moral principles, who spends his whole life in self-sacrifice for the progress of humanity is doomed to damnation, unless he believe! what a horrible doctrine! what a blasphemous conception of the justice of god! every student of comparative theology knows that such views of atonement were centuries old at the date of the supposed birth of the christ, and that all sorts of sacrifices were made at the altars of different gods with the same idea of atonement; but, aside from this, is there not something cowardly and mean in trying to shirk the responsibilities of one's actions upon either an animal, a man, or a god? is it not contemptible to suppose that the death and suffering of another will allow one to go unpunished, or that such suffering is a license for humanity to sin? all that is ridiculous, blasphemous, and illogical appears in this stupid dogma. ix.--the trinity--mariolatry. the dogma of the trinity, which was introduced, strongly advocated, and finally successfully lobbied through the famous council of nicaæ in , by that astute theological politician athanasius, bishop of alexandria, split the christian church in twain and threw europe into turmoil and bloodshed. athanasius was the leader of the alexandrian school of christian theology which drew its inspirations and ideas largely--one might almost say, exclusively--from ancient egyptian sources. the egyptians were an essentially religious people whose deistic ideas were surrounded by ceremony, priestcraft, and mysticism, all of which made such a deep impression upon the pliant minds of the alexandrian christians that they molded their new faith in the form of their old. the egyptians highly revered the number three, which they generally represented under the form of a triangle. to the egyptians nothing could be perfect or complete unless it was of three component parts. therefore, their gods were generally grouped in sets of three, many cities having their own especial trinities. horus was divided into three persons, and osiris, isis and horus were worshiped under the sign of the triangle. but egypt was not alone in her trinitarian ideas. the theory of sex worship had a strong hold on all the peoples of antiquity, and it is not surprising to find similar religious expressions in india. one of the most prominent features of indian theology is the doctrine of the divine triad governing all things. this triad is called the tri-murti and consists of brahma, the creator, vishnu, the preserver, and siva, the destroyer. it is an inseparable unity though three in form. the inhabitants of china and japan, most of whom are buddhists, worship god in the form of a trinity. the persians have a similar triad composed of ormuzd, the creator, mithras, the son, and ahriman, the destroyer. the ancient scandinavians likewise worshiped a triple deity who was yet one god, and consisted of odin, thor, and frey. one of the many weak points in the doctrine of the trinity, and one that must be noticeable even to christians, is that, according to the new testament, the apostles themselves never seem to have recognized the divinity of jesus, but always treated him as a human jew like themselves. this attitude of the early christian disciples is noted by priestley, who remarks in his "corruptions of christianity" (page ): "it can never be thought that peter and the others would have made so free with our lord, as they sometimes did, if they had considered him as their maker, and the being who supported the whole universe; and therefore must have been present in every part of creation, giving his attention to everything, and exerting his power upon everything, at the same time that he was familiarly conversing with them. moreover, the history of the temptation must be altogether improbable in such a supposition. for what could be the offer of the kingdoms of this world to him who made the world, and was already in possession of it?" numerous texts which tend to affirm the humanity of jesus have been stumbling blocks in the paths of the trinitarians, and they have taken great pains to explain away these embarrassing texts, even at the cost of much ingenuity and absurdity. paul, the real founder of the faith, in his first epistle to timothy, says: "for there is one god, and one mediator between god and men, the man christ jesus" ( tim. ii, ); and again in his first epistle to john he remarks: "no man hath seen god" ( john iv, ). such phrases as "why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is god" (matt. xix, ), and "but now ye seek to kill me, a man that hath told you the truth, which i have heard of god" (john viii, ), do not appear to be fitting remarks for the second person of the trinity. again, the words, "my father is greater than i" (john xiv, ), were likewise difficult of explanation by those who held that every member of the trinity is coequal, but austin got around this by declaring that "christ having emptied himself of his former glory, and being in form of a servant, was then less, not only than his father, but even than himself"! the same writer asserts that the words, "that the son knew not the time of the day of judgment, but only the father" (mark xiii, ), means that while jesus did know something of the trinity, he would not make it known to others--thus making a downright liar of his god. the whole of trinitarianism is epitomized in the phrase of peter lombard, who, having made the impossible arithmetical assertion that no one person of the trinity is less than the other two, says: "he that can receive this, let him receive it; but he that cannot, let him, however, believe it; and let him pray that what he believes he may understand." jesus having been ordained one of the godhead, the only begotten son of the most high god, the worship of his mother naturally followed; for who could reasonably refuse to bend the knee to the one virgin of all humanity, considered worthy of the honor of bearing the incarnate deity? it was all the easier for the christian church to adopt this practice, that it had been one of the principal features of the ancient theologies. all nations have worshiped a pure, chaste queen of heaven, a personification of that beautiful celestial body that smiles so benignly down on earth every month. in every land the moon was worshiped as a mother goddess, pure, beautiful, and loving; for there is not the slightest doubt that the virgin queen of heaven, so commonly worshiped by all nations, was merely a personification of the moon. isis, mother of the egyptian savior horus, was worshiped as a virgin and was styled "our lady," "queen of heaven," "mother of god," "intercessor," and "immaculate virgin." she was commonly represented with the divine infant seated on her lap, or standing on a crescent moon, and having a glory of twelve stars about her head. with the adoption of the worship of isis to christianity, the crescent moon became a sacred symbol of mary, who was often portrayed standing upon one. it was held peculiarly sacred by the greek church and a large crescent moon of gold adorned the dome of st. sophia at constantinople. when the city fell in before the turkish arms, the sultan adopted the crescent as a symbol of his victorious power and as a humiliation to his christian enemies, and thus again the religious significance of the crescent changed, and as an emblem of a mohammedan power soon came to be regarded by the forgetful christians with horror and a deadly hatred. the ancient chaldees believed in a celestial virgin-mother to whom the erring sinner might appeal, and shin-moo, the mother goddess, occupies a conspicuous place in chinese worship. the babylonians and assyrians worshiped a goddess called mylitta, whose son tammuz is said to have arisen from the dead. in india they have worshiped for ages devaki, the mother of krishna, and maya, the mother of buddha, both of whom are represented with the infant saviors in their arms. their statues, similar to the christian madonnas, are found in hindu temples, and their portraits are always accompanied by halos. sochiquetzal, mother of quetzalcoatl, was worshiped in mexico as the mother of their crucified savior. as queen of heaven and the chaste and immaculate protectress of women, the greek hera and her roman prototype, juno, were worshiped by the ancient classical world, while the virtuous diana of ephesus held a similar place in phoenician mythology. all the ancient beliefs in the virgin queen of heaven and her miraculous child probably had more or less effect on the growth of virgin worship in the christian church; but it was undoubtedly egyptian influence which was most powerful in the adoption of it, just as it was in regard to the trinitarian dogma. the worship of isis and horus was introduced into rome during the early days of the empire and was readily accepted. and with its introduction came those basalt images of the goddess and her child which have since been adopted by the christians as ancient representations of mary and jesus, albeit they are as black as ethiopians. many centuries before, the worship of the greek goddess hera had been instituted at rome under the name of juno, and she was especially regarded as the chaste and immaculate protectress of women. and it was the combination of the worship offered to these two deities that the christian church condensed into the worship of the mother of jesus, to which it added the attributes of diana, making mary the patroness of chastity as well as fruitfulness! in dante's day it was customary to invoke the virgin mary at childbirth just as juno lucina was invoked by the pagan ancestors of the italians. the worship of the virgin as theotokos, the mother of god, was promulgated at the general council of ephesus, which was called by the emperor theodosius ii in , and, after that date, and up to the present time, we find this lowly jewish peasant girl delineated in all the insignia of royalty and portrayed in the most beautiful and patrician type of classical beauty. with the adoration of mary rose the legend that she, too, had ascended bodily into heaven and was there crowned by her son and bidden to sit eternally upon his right hand that she might plead with him to mitigate the punishments of sinners, thus allowing that the judgment of this second member of the holy trinity might be fallible, or at least open to influence. having raised the virgin to this immense height, the natural sequence was to go a step farther and grant to her also immaculate origin. this idea was first noticed in the eleventh century and steadily grew until in sextus the fourth officially recognized it and gave it the solemn sanction of the church, and in july, , paul the fifth instituted the office commemorating her immaculate conception. virgin worship has continued to grow and flourish, and even so late as , pius the ninth issued a bull officially declaring mary the "mediatrix" between christ and the faithful. mary is not, however, the only intercessor that stands between man and his god. there is an immense horde of saints who also occupy positions of honor about the heavenly throne. these immortal semi-human beings are created by a decree of the roman pontiff and their canonization has often been due to whimsical reasoning. that all the apostles, martyrs, and early christian fathers should have been raised to this holy peerage is not so remarkable; but that such honor should have been conferred on the wicked, unscrupulous, and vicious constantine, and his almost unknown mother helena; on the powerful and warlike charlemagne; and on the ambitious and ungrateful thomas à becket, seems strange to say the least. x.--the saints--good and evil spirits. that this army of saints was originally created to replace the body of heroes and demi-gods of antiquity cannot be doubted. the compliance with which the church converted pagan deities into christian heroes is perfectly well known, and it is shown in many ways. ancient statues were declared to represent newly canonized saints to whom pagan attributes were unhesitatingly given--often most ridiculously. at the temple of sebona, in nubia, the christians replaced the figure of the old god of the temple, which appeared in a fresco, by that of st. peter, thus depicting king rameses the second as presenting his offering to the christian saint! the statue of jupiter in st. peter's at rome has been declared that of the erstwhile fisherman, and its original thunderbolts have been replaced by the keys, which the christian mythologists have filched from the god janus to bestow on their revered patron in accordance with the promise of matthew xvi, . rome is full of proofs of this conversion of heathen to christian deities. the temple formerly sacred to the bona dea was dedicated to the virgin mary; the church of saint apollinaris stands on the spot formerly dedicated to apollo; and the temple of mars was given to st. martina. the very names of some of the saints have an old familiar sound--as st. baccho, st. quirinus, st. romula, st. redempta, st. concordia, st. nympha, and st. mercurius. the christian symbolism of its heroes has also a decidedly pagan flavor. the ancient winged lion of the egyptian mythology is made to portray st. mark; the sacred bull denotes st. luke; while st. john is generously supplied with both the eagle of jove and the hawk's head of horus. the idea of intercession, which is the principal attribute of all the saints, is also a very ancient religious theory and probably came with the other dogmas already mentioned from alexandria, as we find that the egyptians believed that some of their gods--and particularly the four gods of the dead--acted as mediators with the stern judge osiris and attempted to turn aside his wrath and the punishment of sins. much akin to the saints, though differing from them in form and in never having been mortal, are the angels. these beings combine the wings of the roman victories with the sweet voices of the teutonic elves and the classical sirens, and are in many ways similar to the famous northern valkyries who wore shirts of swan plumage and hovered over scandinavian battlefields to receive the souls of falling heroes. the hindu apsaras and moslem houris belong to the same family. a few years ago a bitter controversy arose in new york episcopal circles as to the sex of these unearthly creatures, some strenuously advocating their masculinity, while others gallantly asserted that they were essentially feminine, but the earlier idea was that they were entirely sexless, combining the characteristic virtues of both sexes. apart from both saints and angels stands another figure in the christian mythology--one, however, that has no actual counterpart in the ancient faiths. this is satan. the classical religious systems had no such conception, their king of the dead being a gloomy and austere deity without any of the malicious or mischievous propensities of the more modern devil, and having no designs upon the welfare of mankind. the medieval conception of the devil was a grotesque compound of elements derived from all the pagan mythologies which christianity superseded. from the sylvan deity pan he gets his goat-like body, his horns and cloven hoofs; his lameness was due to his fall from heaven, in imitation of the fall of the roman vulcan; and his red beard was taken from the lightning god thor, as was also his power over the thunderbolts; while his pitchfork is the converted trident of neptune. that much of the absurd fabric of christianity is built upon a belief in satan cannot be denied, for the whole theology is based upon the necessity of a savior whose death atones for the sins of mankind, which were consequent upon man's fall from grace through the machinations of the devil. had man never fallen, there were no need of a savior. had man never been tempted, he would never have fallen, and in no words was the necessity of a belief in the devil more plainly set forth than by that most orthodox writer, des mousseaux, in his "moeurs et pratiques des demons," published in . he says: "the devil is the chief pillar of faith. he is one of the grand personages whose life is closely allied to that of the church, and without his speech, which issued out so triumphantly from the mouth of the serpent, the fall of man could never have taken place. thus, if it were not for him, the savior, the crucified, the redeemer, would be but the most ridiculous of supernumeraries and the cross an insult to good sense!" in his preface to "les hauts phenomènes de la magie," des mousseaux repeats this theory: "if magic and spiritualism were both but chimeras, we would have to bid an eternal farewell to all the rebellious angels now troubling the world; for thus we would have no more demons down here.... and if we lost our demons, we would lose our savior likewise; for, from whom did that savior save us? and then there would be no more redeemer; for, from whom or what could that redeemer redeem us? hence, there would be no more christianity." he evidently regards satan as "the prince of this world" (john xii, ; xvi, ); "the god of this world" (cor. iv, ); and "the prince of the power of the air" (eph. ii, ). the universally accepted belief of christendom in the almost absolute power of the devil was the cause of the most awful persecution of innocence that the world has ever seen. while the tortures of the heretics by the inquisition had some cause of a political as well as ecclesiastical nature, the houndings of those accused of witchcraft and sorcery had no foundation save in superstition and gross ignorance. during the christian era millions of persons have been destroyed for this crime in conformity to the command, "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" (ex. xxii, ). the roman church recognized and punished the crime; luther approved of the burning of witches; the scotch reformers did likewise, and the puritans of new england delighted in the persecution. while all religiously orthodox people accept the narrative of scriptural miracles with unquestioning faith and never cast a doubt on the greatest improbabilities so long as they are told of biblical heroes, these very people assign all the seeming supernatural affairs of post-scriptural times to the devil. psychical phenomena which, if performed two thousand years ago by jesus (such as the resurrection of lazarus and the materialization to the magdalene), they accept without hesitation, they brand as trickery or a delusion or satan, when placed before them by a professed spiritualist. witches and wizards were condemned to horrible deaths by the medieval church for performing the very identical acts for which the same church canonized departed saints and instituted offices for their adoration and worship; and modern christians smile and sneer derisively at fortune tellers, but condemn in holy horror as heretics those who refuse to believe in the foreseeing powers of the ancient hebrew prophets. this christian devil-worship, for it can be called little else, crept into judaism during the babylonian captivity, and was originally a recognition of the dual powers of good and evil, seemingly coequal. by placing satan in opposition to god, in giving him eternal life, and endowing him with miraculous powers, and even allowing him to upset and vanquish the plans of god, christians have made satan equal, if not superior, to the deity. a puritan bigot hanging witches in new england was admitting in the plainest manner his faith in satan's power, though it never occurred to him for an instant that these curious happenings might be attributed to god. the power of god to perform miracles was then, as now, a matter of the past. with the protestant reformation came the idea that no longer did god interfere for the benefit of man. in the seventeenth century god had ceased to work by other than natural agencies. his miraculous powers, if not lost, were at least suspended. but not so satan--that archfiend was as powerful as ever, if not more so. he could inflict magical tortures on god's divinely elect and make them writhe in agony. pious cotton mather had ceased to believe in divine miracles, but he had no doubt of devilish ones, and it appears to all students of that dark and shameful period of our history that the belief was rampant among the majority that god was vanquished and satan ruled. never was belief in the dual principles of good and evil more surely set forth in ancient persia than it was in new england by such harsh, cruel, and bigoted priests as mather and parrish. today, while all churchmen have grown more liberal, we still find both in pulpit and pew innumerable believers in the power of satan to tempt and force erring humanity into wrong and sinful paths in miraculous salvation from which by god they have no faith. today, instead of earthly and present salvation by the deity from the clutches of satan, the belief seems prevalent that a post-mortem salvation is more efficacious, and that all that is required for eternal bliss is belief in the vicarious atonement of the christ. to hear our orthodox friends declaim on the powers of satan almost makes one ready to believe that god is dead and satan rules supreme. such is the blasphemy of demonic faith. while satan, as the arch-enemy, is somewhat similar to the persian ahriman, he is not alone in his wickedness. when christianity came into power and supplanted paganism as the roman state religion, it immediately debased all of the pagan gods, whom it did not appropriate to itself as saints, to devils and assigned them subordinate positions in hell, under command of the great satan. and thus, all the beautiful water sprites, sylvan nymphs, spirits of the air, and other lesser deities, became the associates of wickedness, and, as such, continued, until a very recent date, to hold sway over the superstitious imaginations of the majority of europeans. the mediæval church likewise invented the famous succubæ and incubi, the former demons impersonating the beautiful nymphs of the old mythology and attacking the virtue of youths with their seductive arts, while the latter, in imitation of the ancient satyrs, sought the virginity of unsuspecting maidens; all of which may readily be learned of in accounts of the many trials held by "the holy inquisition," in which such were condemned as had held intercourse with these demons. in many cases, women swearing to have had intercourse with incubi were merely suffering from erotic and nymphomaniac hallucinations, while others may have found it a convenient excuse for explaining illicit impregnations. men, falling under the charms of women, found it a convenient method for disposing of their loves, after the infatuation had passed, by declaring them succubæ; and monks, who had contracted venereal diseases, laid their sufferings to these same fair demons. in the case of the monks, however, the succubæ were often of purely hallucinary origin, due to excessive asceticism together with the suppression of natural desires and a too faithful conformity to the ordinance of celibacy. nymphomania is also prevalent in convents, owing to the unnatural sexual lives led by the nuns, who either remain truly chaste or abandon themselves to all sorts of debauchery and perverted lubricities. in former times these rages of demented women were supposed to have been caused by possession of demons, which tormented them at the orders of magicians, and advantage was often taken by the unscrupulous to accuse their enemies of the crime of sorcery, and thus cause their execution. one of the most famous of these horrible affairs was that of loudin in poitiers, where the nuns of the ursuline convent, becoming hysterical and demented, swore themselves afflicted by urbain grandier, a priest of the local church, and despite the attempts of the rational bailiff and sensible civil lieutenants, some enemies of the curé among the exorcists managed to secure the arrest, torture, and final burning of the unfortunate man in . later, it was discovered that, being personally attractive, handsome and gallant, grandier, who never denied his numerous amours, had incurred the enmity of the loudin nuns by entirely ignoring their advances; and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! these libidinous women, constantly brooding over disappointment to their fond hopes, gave such a character of demonic possession to their neurosis that advantage could be taken of it by rival priests to rid themselves of an envied enemy. the writhings, gesticulations, convulsions, etc., of these unfortunate women, combined with the indecency of their actions on the approach of the exorcists (caused merely by the approach of a male), were believed by the vulgar to be demonstrations of demonic possession. other nuns, seeing the attention and notoriety thus gained by these sisters, although themselves free from dementia, could not resist the temptation to simulate its forms and thus acquire renown for themselves. thus arose those horrible demonical scenes which occupied the attention of all europe during the seventeenth century and seemed to point to the possession of all convents by devils. and not convents alone, for other hysterical women, without the walls, possessed of the same rage for notoriety, took up the character of demonic possessed and spread the vulgar superstition until it seems that every woman in europe who was so unfortunate as to be in any way afflicted with tendencies to hysteria, neurosis, idiocy, or dementia of any character whatever, came to be regarded as in the power of a demon, which in turn was the slave of some magician. and thus, through the influence of an ignorant and unscrupulous priesthood, a powerful engine was placed at its disposal for the removal of enemies. executions for sorcery continued until their very number and barbarity palled, and the wearied people were ready for their abolition, when the reformation opened and with the accession of power, protestantism, in this matter, at least, swayed the masses to reason once more. dr. figuier, in his "histoire du merveilleux," explains these demonical possessions as entirely due to hypnotism, and, ignoring the nymphomaniac theory, asserts that the exorcists themselves hypnotized the nuns for their own glory and for purposes of vengeance. one page of volume i he says: "l'appareil deployé par les exorcistes, leurs adjurations, leurs gestes imposants et forcenés, tenaient lieu des manipulations que nos magnetiseurs emploient pour endormir leurs sujets. operant sur des jeunes filles nerveuses, malades, melancoliques, les exorcistes produisaient chez elles une partie des phenomènes auxquels donné lieu le somnambulisme artificiel." the universal belief in evil spirits became a powerful engine for the advancement of the church. by its use all those who were inimical to the church could be put out of the way as comrades of devils, and, furthermore, the theory was advanced that only by the exorcisms of the church could man be protected from malevolent powers. holy water, signs of the cross, repetitions of the name of mary had full power to annul all the machinations of the demons, but only in the hands of the true believers was this efficacious. to preserve one from the dangers of demonic spite, absolute orthodoxy was essential, and thus a great premium was imposed upon strict adherence to the church. thus was gross superstition a most powerful factor in the growth and spread of christianity. according to lecky: "there was scarcely a village or a church that had not, at some time, been the scene of supernatural interposition. the powers of light and the powers of darkness were regarded as visibly struggling for the mastery. saintly miracles, supernatural cures, startling judgments, visions, prophecies, and prodigies of every order, attested the activity of the one, while witchcraft and magic, with all their attendant horrors, were the visible manifestations of the other.... tens of thousands of victims perished by the most agonizing and protracted torments, without exciting the slightest compassion.... nations that were separated by position, by interests, and by character, on this question were united." and the germ of all this evil lay in the very foundation of christianity--the faith held in supernatural agencies. the belief in the supernatural agency in the temptation of eve, the temptations of jesus, the possibility of the miraculous conception, and the miracles of christ, were but stepping-stones to faith in innumerable invisible but potent powers. one who can conscientiously believe in the supernatural as found between the covers of the bible can, by but a slight stretch of the imagination, believe any preposterous tale that is woven about a supernatural agency. if one can believe a woman can conceive without contact with semen, one can believe some old woman can dry up his cow. if one can believe that jesus actually raised lazarus from the dead, one can believe that a man can kill him by sticking pins in a wax effigy. if one can believe that elijah ascended to heaven in a fiery chariot, one can believe that goody jones rode a broomstick through the air. if one can believe that the christ was actually tempted by the devil, one can believe in succubæ and incubi. it is all a matter of logical reasoning. as soon as a christian's intellectual powers develop to a point where he can find no place for the miraculous in the world about him, he begins to doubt that which was in the world before him; but, regarding theological tales, he either places them in another category or ignores them, unless faced with them, when he crawls and calls them "sacred mysteries." that an old woman can sour his milk or kill his child by the evil eye he does not believe, for reason has taught him otherwise. and for the same reason he would not believe his daughter if she told him she was pregnant with a miraculous child. he did not believe josephine woodbury when she made a similar statement in boston a few years ago. but he does believe it of mary, because it is a "holy mystery," and is in another category. he has inherited his faith from a long line of orthodox ancestors, and he has never stopped to consider it by the light of pure reason. it is fortunate for the dogma of the virgin birth that it took root when people believed such things, otherwise mary would have been adorned with the scarlet letter. feasts, fasts and elaborate ceremonials were important features of the most ancient worships, and it is not, therefore, strange to find somewhat modified adaptations of them in the christian church. for, wherever christianity wandered and found firmly implanted religious theories and customs, it immediately gave them new significations and accepted them, until finally the greater part of paganism was gathered from all parts of the civilized world and amalgamated into one strong theological organization. finding in almost every nation a festival at the winter solstice, in commemoration of the accouchement of the celestial, virgin queen of heaven, and the birth of the sun-god, the christian fathers decided to adopt the th of december as the natal day of their christ. mithras, osiris, horus, bacchus, adonis and buddha were all said to have been born on this day, and it is the date of one of the greatest religious festivals of india, during which the people decorate their houses with garlands and make presents to relatives and friends; a custom adopted by the christians in much the same manner as was that of the ancient german yule-log, burned in honor of the sun-god. xi.--religious holidays and rites. the winter solstice was also the time of the great scandinavian festival in honor of frey, son of odin and frigga, who was supposed to have been born at this time. the jews, likewise, have a feast beginning on the th of december, which lasts eight days, and is in memory of the victory of the maccabees over the greeks. it is called the feast of hanuca. a great annual festival, called the "feast of lamps," was held by the egyptians in the early part of the year in honor of the goddess neith, during which lamps of oil were burned all night before the houses. this festival was renamed candlemas or the "purification of the virgin," and was adopted by the christian church. the ancient pagan inhabitants of europe annually celebrated a spring festival which began with a week's indulgence in all kinds of sports and was called the carne-vale, or taking farewell of meat, because a fast of forty days immediately followed. in germany this was held in honor of the saxon goddess hertha, or ostara, or eostre--as you may prefer to call her--whose name was adopted as easter by the christians as the name to be applied to the end of their lenten period. among the syrians it was the custom to celebrate an elaborate festival at the time of the spring equinox in honor of the glorious adonis, beloved of the great goddess astarte. this worship was later introduced into greece, whence it traveled to rome with the majority of grecian mythological theories. it was later introduced into egypt, where it was annually celebrated at alexandria, the cradle of christianity, until the latter part of the fourth century, when a christian significance was given it. the myth of adonis is too well known to need repetition here, and its parallel to that of the christ is readily seen. the ceremonies now held in rome at easter are but slightly different from those held there at the same time of year centuries ago. this similarity was explained away by the assertion of the christian fathers "that a long time before there were christians in existence, the devil had taken pleasure to have their future mysteries and ceremonies copied by his worshipers"--a very simple and satisfactory explanation! that easter is in reality an astronomical festival in honor of the sun-god seems conclusive from the fact that it occurs on no settled date, but takes place on the first sunday after the first full moon after the passing of the vernal equinox, which, for convenience, is fixed at march . among the many christian fasts of pagan origin none is more familiar to all than the weekly friday abstinence from meat. under the old mythology, friday, the dies veneris, was sacred to venus, and on that day the devout worshipers of this charming goddess ate nothing but fish, as all the "finny tribe" were sacred to her, and considered proper diet for those that worshiped at her shrine. when the bishop of rome assumed the power and dignity of head of the western church, he also assumed all the prerogatives of the ancient pontifex maximus (who was supposed to be the direct physical communication between the people and the deities), and many of the attributes of the emperors. he adopted the gorgeous vestments of the ancient high priest and even stretched forth a foot to be kissed, as heliogabalus had done. he considered himself capable of raising such as he saw fit to semi-divine honors by canonization, just as the emperors had raised altars to their favorites, and he claimed precedence over every monarch of the earth, just as they also had done. but the roman pontiff is not unique in his position of viceroy of the deity. the grand lama of thibet is considered as the representative of buddha and has the power of dispensing divine blessings on whomsoever he will. taoism also has a pope who resides on the lung-hû mountain, in the department of kwang-hsi, who bears the surname chang and is called "heavenly master." the best known rites of the christian church are probably those of baptism, confession and communion, with which are associated the ideas of purification, prayer and transubstantiation. the rite of baptism, like all ideas which refer to the purification of sin by water, is a most ancient one. rivers, as sources of purification, were at an early date invested with a sacred character, and every great river was supposed to be permeated with a divine essence and its waters were believed to cleanse from all mortal guilt and contamination. the ganges and the jordan are well known examples of this faith, and vases of ganges water are to be found in almost every dwelling in india for religious purposes. in mongolia and thibet children are named by the priests, who immerse them in holy water while reading a prescribed prayer, after which the name is bestowed. baptism preceded initiation into the mysteries of both the egyptian isis and the persian mithras, and was held to be the means of regeneration and of remission of sins. tertullian, noticing the great similarity between the christian and pagan baptisms, naïvely remarked that the devil "baptizes some, of course, such as believe in him and are faithful to him; he promises expiation of sins from the bath, and, if my memory of mithras serves me still, in this rite he signs his soldiers on their foreheads." much akin to baptism is the general use by the christian church of so-called holy water, which is ascribed to pope alexander the first, who ruled during the first century. this pontiff probably did little more than officially to condone, by his papal sanction, the very general use of lustral water, which the romans had inherited from their pagan ancestors; for lustral water was always kept in vases at the entrance of the roman temples, that those passing in and out might sprinkle themselves with it; and the priests used a sprinkling brush called the aspersorium with which they threw the purifying water over their congregations, in the same manner as modern priests use the hyssop. the druids gave, or sprinkled upon, the worshipers water in which mistletoe had been immersed or steeped. similar to the idea of purification by baptism is that of purification by confession and prayer. the idea involved in confession is that the declaration of the crime relieves the conscience of its criminality. in iceland and among the scandinavian and teutonic peoples in general, murder ceased to be a crime when the slayer had declared himself guilty. among the jews confession was practiced, the purpose of its institution being that the priest might judge of the sacrifice required for the expiation of the sin committed, and, also, that every crime might be rehearsed over the scapegoat. the peruvians confessed their sins to their priests with the exception of the incas, who confessed to the sun. at the famous samothracian mysteries a priest was especially charged with hearing the confessions of great criminals and with granting them absolution. among protestant christians confession is often made directly to the supreme deity in the form of prayer, which, like most other religious practices, is an eminently pagan custom. the assyrians, babylonians, greeks, romans, persians, and most other ancient peoples offered sacrifices on the altars of their gods to propitiate them, and accompanied these offerings with prayers. today, instead of presenting wines and viands to his god, the devout christian offers verbal expressions of a contrite spirit or, more often, asks a favor. he demands, begs, or advises through this method, according to his own nature and disposition. the expression used in modern orthodox protestant prayers, "through our lord, jesus christ," is merely the concrete expression of the idea of mediation. the great supreme god was looked upon by most nations of antiquity as being too great, too sublime, too holy, to be addressed directly; and, in this lofty conception of the deity, they prayed for favors to mediators whom they created to request boons from the real ruler of heaven and earth. among the hindus, supplications were addressed to the various apotheosized incarnations of vishnu, rather than to the great brahma; the greeks made supplication to numerous lesser gods, rather than to zeus; persians addressed mithras instead of ormuzd; and the modern romanist kneels to saints and martyrs, or jesus or his mother, at whose shrines they place offerings which are bribes for favors; but almost never do they immediately supplicate the supreme god. in this they are certainly less blasphemous than their protestant fellows, who do not hesitate to talk familiarly to god of the most trivial affairs. belief in the efficacy of prayer is an absurdity which owes its origin to a hereditary trait of humanity, descended through a long line of superstitious ancestors. primitive man prayed to his dead fathers for their good will, believing them more powerful in their post mortem state than during life. the ancients offered prayers at the shrines of their various gods and, among all nations, from time immemorial, deities have been supplicated to bestow gifts and avert misfortunes. the overcharged mind of the superstitious has ever found relief in expressing its troubles to the imaginary beings on whom it has bestowed superhuman attributes. all over the world, in all languages, have arisen various petitions to the deities, and still do they continue to arise. savages pray to their idols, moslems crouch facing mecca to pray to allah, hindus pray to the avatars of vishnu, and all christendom besieges the throne of god in constant supplication. can any rational mind believe that these numerous, varied and even antagonistic petitions will be answered? some are praying for rain, some for a cessation of it, some for health, some for happiness, some for material blessings, and some for spiritual welfare. vain repetitions! the material universe is governed by immutable laws which all the breath in creation wasted in prayer cannot in any way affect; while such spiritual benefits as morality, character and virtue "are equally dependent on the invariable laws of cause and effect." prayers for forgiveness of sins are perhaps the most common, as well as the most absurd, that are daily offered. sin is the breaking of a material or moral law, and no law can be broken without the transgressor's incurring the penalty. is it not absurd of the church to preach the immutable justice of god, and at the same time declare that sinners may escape punishment by prayer? communion, or union with the deity, is an idea of great antiquity and has been common to all religions; although the methods practiced are numerous and varied. the more common mode, however, is by the consumption of consecrated foods and drinks, with the idea that these have acquired (by the act of consecration) a divine character of which the communicant becomes a partaker through their reception. the dogma of the eucharist was instituted many centuries before the christian era and was believed in by the ancient egyptians (from whom the christians probably received it through the alexandrian school), who, at the time of the celebration of the resurrection of osiris, ate a sacred wafer, which, after consecration by a priest, was declared the flesh of the god. in ancient greece, bread was worshiped as ceres and wine as bacchus; and, when the devout ate the bread and drank the wine, they claimed they were eating the flesh and drinking the blood of their deities. the ancient mexicans used bread of corn meal mixed with blood, which, after, having been consecrated by the priests, was given to the people to eat as the flesh of quetzalcoatl, much to the surprise and horror of the first spanish missionaries, who ascribed it to mockery of their holy eucharist due to satan. xii--the eucharist. the primal origin of the eucharist probably occurred far back in the period of universal anthropophagy. most savage and semi-savage peoples have practiced cannibalism because they believed that by eating the flesh of the dead they gained the qualities of the deceased. just as some africans eat tiger to become brave, savages ate their courageous foes to attain their virtues. following this same idea further, the belief was established that by consuming the flesh of a god, supernatural powers might be acquired. thus the early christian missionaries to the new world found such customs in peru and mexico. father acosta described one of these festivals which occurred annually each may in mexico, wherein the statue of a god was made of dough, and "killed" by an arrow in the hand of a priest. the god was then broken in pieces which by means of "certain ceremonies ... were blessed and consecrated for the flesh and bones of this idoll." these pieces the priest gave "to the people in manner of a communion who received it with such feare, and reverence, as it was an admirable thing, saying that they did eate the flesh and bones of god." likewise came the idea that sacrifices to the gods in some way attained godlike characteristics, and so the guatemalan priests ate the bodies of the sacrificed. the words of the modern roman priest, "hoc est corpus meum," which are supposed, by some magical influence, to cause the actual transubstantiation in the celebration of the eucharist, remind one forcibly of the dotting of the memorial chinese tablet by a mandarin, by which official act the spirit of the departed, to whom it is dedicated, is presumed to take up residence in the new abode. as a logical deduction from a given hypothesis, any roman priest is greater than the virgin. she conceived god but once, while the priest may through his mass create the body of the christ whenever he so desires. every time a priest performs this function he is the father of god. however, in spite of the absurdity of the practice, to deprive the communion of the real presence is to make it a senseless and useless ceremony. while the communicants believe in the efficacy of the wafer as the actual body, there is reason for absorbing it, as they thus unite themselves with the actual spirit of the christ. but the moment this dogma is rejected, the rite becomes futile, and nothing is more ridiculous than its perpetuation in the protestant churches. the quibble that it is performed in memory of jesus is a fallacy. in unitarian churches it is an arrant absurdity (one that is retained in many cases simply because the old historical churches of that denomination have inherited fine old communion plate which is proudly displayed), and one can only respect and admire ralph waldo emerson's stand in the matter, when he preferred to relinquish his remunerative and honorable pastorate in the second church of boston (the only pulpit he ever filled) rather than celebrate this anachronistic and indefensible rite. jerome carried his reverence for the eucharistic bread [ ] so far that he considered that the table on which it was consecrated, together with the cloth in which it was wrapped, and the other utensils connected with its service, were to be worshiped with equal respect as that given the body and blood of the savior. this theory led to the consecration of altars, which by a decree of the council of epaone, in , in imitation of the jewish and pagan sacrificial altars, were ordered to be of stone, which material had been originally chosen as the most suitable material for the execution of the sacrifices, whose blood should flow over it, without danger of absorption. another of the ancient pagan ideas which took a strong hold upon christianity and rose to an abnormal power during the middle ages was that of monasticism with its accompanying asceticism. there is scarcely a religion of ancient and modern times that does not recognize asceticism as an element of its system. buddha taught his disciples a religion of abstinence, and, among the buddhists, there are ordained and tonsured priests, living in monasteries under vows of celibacy, while there are similar asylums for women. brahmanism also has its orders of ascetics and hinduism has its fakirs. fasting and self-denial were observances required by the greeks of those who desired initiation into the mysteries; the jews observed many fasts; and the egyptian priests passed their novitiate in the deserts engaged in prayer and living in caves. like many other christian customs, the monastic habit probably came from egypt, and it was considered by gibbon to have had a potent influence on the fall of the western empire, in that it removed from active and useful life so many able-bodied men and women. xiii.--spread of christianity. having now shown that there is nothing new in christianity; nothing in which it differs essentially from the older faiths; having shown that it brought no new ideas in its dogmas, practices, or morality, but a few words are necessary to explain its marvelous growth and rapid acceptance. christianity grew so rapidly, and was adopted so readily in many parts of the world simply because it was so cosmopolitan and elastic. it went forth to proselyte in a very conciliatory manner, embracing and absorbing every deeply rooted theological idea and custom which obstructed its path, and, in every way, exerting itself to propitiate its converts. and it was not until it became strong and powerful and was well supported by fanatical adherents that it dared to assume the rôle of conqueror. then, when the period of its strength was full, its tone changed and, strong in self-confidence, christianity became militant and strode forth in armor to vanquish with the sword and fill the world with blood. one of the reasons for the rapid acceptance of christianity among the romans and its remarkable growth in their dependencies was that for centuries the people had ceased to take their religion seriously. the vulgar masses, undoubtedly then as now, and at all times, unthinkingly swallowed all that was taught them of their deities, but the writings of cultivated men show clearly that for centuries the worship and reverence of their ancestral gods had but slight influence upon their ethical ideas. lucretius ( - b. c.), the exponent of the epicurean doctrines, regarded the gods as the creations of human fear. ennius ( - b. c.) translated and expounded the writings of euhemerus ( b. c.), wherein it was claimed that all the ancient myths were historical events, that the gods were originally kings who were accorded post mortem worship by their grateful subjects. the stoics regarded the gods as personifications of the different attributes of nature. cicero adopted the platonic conception of the deity as mind freed from all taint of matter, while ovid made the gods ridiculous in his mocking "metamorphoses," and, in his lascivious descriptions of their amours, degraded them forever as ethical models. horace likewise mocked them. the glorious military conquests of the roman arms in asia and africa brought the soldiers into contact with alien religions, and the germs instilled in the minds of the armies spread among all the peoples of rome's domains, upon their return. likewise the ever-increasing influx of foreigners, bringing with them their native gods and theological systems, had more or less influence, while the apotheoses of the emperors gave a powerful impetus to the degradation of the ancient faith. the vulgar clung to their ancient shrines and the cultured sneered at them for so doing. they bent the knee in public and they laughed mockingly in private. in such a state was the religion of rome when the first christians began to proselyte; and on such fertile ground, amid the ruins of an ancient faith, the seed readily took root and rapidly spread out. any other faith, supported by sturdy, conscientious and indomitable missionaries, would have done the same. the old faith was dead and the time was ripe for something new and vigorous. as the civilized world was then under one powerful government, which allowed no political discord within its borders and which granted absolute religious freedom, the christian missionaries could travel in safety from one province to another and, without fear of molestation, could propagate their doctrines among the people through the media of the greek and latin tongues, which were universal throughout the empire. early christianity was merely a sect of judaism, and as the jews were scattered all through the roman provinces, every jewish settlement having its synagogue which the christian missionaries visited in order to preach their message, "the new religion, which was undertaken in the name of the god of abraham, and moses, found a sphere already prepared for itself." the new sect was naturally welcomed by the roman jews, as it was a purely national religion, founded upon the teachings of a jewish peasant for the jewish people. there is nothing in the gospels which portrays jesus as anything other than a prophet to his own nation. while his moral doctrines, like all ethical principles, are applicable to all races, he was ignorant of all peoples save his own, and it was to them alone that he preached, proclaiming his messiahship for them only. he was content to remain within the boundaries of his own country and expressed no wish nor desire to visit other lands. had it remained as jesus desired, christianity would never have been separated from judaism. it was owing to the direct disobedience of peter and paul in this particular, that christianity spread among the gentiles (acts xiv, ). in sending forth his apostles to preach his mission, jesus commanded, "go not into the way of the gentiles, and into any city of the samaritans enter ye not: but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of israel" (matt. x, - ). when appealed to by the canaanite woman, he said, "i am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of israel" (matt. xv, ). it was to the jews that he spoke when he said, "ye are the salt of the earth" (matt. v. ). "ye are the light of the world" (matt. v, ). it was in reference to the twelve tribes of israel that he so numbered his apostles (matt. xix, ). and it was of his compatriots that he thought when prophesying his resurrection, "ye shall not have gone over the cities of israel, till the son of man be come" (matt. x, ). there is no thought of a universal mission in all this. his mission and sacrifice were for his own nation, and, as paul writes to titus, he "gave himself that he might purify unto himself a peculiar people" (tit. ii, ). thinking probably of the political strife which his messiahship would cause, jesus said, "i came not to bring peace, but a sword" (matt. x, ), in which remark he was a truer prophet than the heavenly host that sang at his birth "on earth peace, good will toward men" (luke ii, ). "the church of rome has shed more innocent blood than any other institution that ever existed among mankind," says lecky in his "rationalism in europe" (vol. ii, p. ). the holy office in spain burned over , persons and condemned to punishment hardly less severe , . during the reign of charles the fifth , heretics were executed in the netherlands and on february , , the holy office condemned all the inhabitants, numbering , , of people, to death as heretics, and philip the second confirmed the decree and ordered its instant execution. the whole history of christianity, in all its forms, reeks with blood and smells to heaven with carrion. in the first centuries christians persecuted pagans or, divided among themselves, persecuted each other as heretics. later arose the feuds of orthodox and arian, then came a united christendom against islam, followed by protestant wars. in these catholics murdered, pillaged, and devastated protestants and burned and tortured them as heretics by ecclesiastical tribunals; protestants persecuted and executed catholics and, divided among themselves, persecuted one another. in the sixteenth century anglican episcopalians persecuted catholics and nonconformists. in the seventeenth century puritans persecuted catholics, episcopalians, and quakers, and so on. the whole history of this religion is a long narration of blasphemous and degrading theories propagated by violence, hypocrisy and crime. christian charity is a delusion which is found only among the persecuted, who, the instant the scale turns, become the ruling faction, forget its meaning, and hasten to avenge their sufferings in persecutions. no other religion has so bloody a history as christianity. the old heathen religions went calmly on their way, indifferent to one another and showing the most perfect toleration. rival gods of rival nations were worshiped in temples side by side, without conflict or ill feeling. buddhists and brahmins mildly flourish in proximity. but christians who believe that the christ was sacrificed for love of humanity, that their gospel is one of love, peace, and good will, vie with one another to outstrip the ferocity of wild beasts. while many students believe that jesus was a purely mythical being, without actual existence save in the brains of religious christians, i see no reason to doubt that a certain jewish rabbi may have come out of the rebellious province of galilee about the time of herod. such messiahs had come before him and such have succeeded him. some of the messiahs subsequent to jesus were: one who appeared in persia in , another in arabia in , and one in moravia at the close of the twelfth century. eldavid proclaimed himself messiah in persia in , sabathai tzevi assumed the title of "king of kings" in and was executed at constantinople by the sultan. so late as there appeared in india the eight-year-old son of a peasant who was a wonderful serpent charmer and was called marayum powar. it was an ancient belief that the ability to handle serpents unharmed was a proof that one had become perfectly holy--absorbed in god! therefore, numerous people came to believe powar a god and in ten months ten thousand followers were about him, baptizing and performing miraculous cures--and his cult seemed well on the road to establishment when, over-confident of his power, he was bitten by a serpent and died. his followers, after vainly awaiting his resurrection, dispersed. that jesus' whole career is lost in encircling myth is no proof that the original figure never existed. there is plenty of historical evidence to show that the central portion of europe was once ruled by a king named karl, and we do not doubt this simply because a great cloud of myths has been gathered about the name of st. charlemagne, any more than we feel bound to believe that because he once lived he must now necessarily exist, sleeping in a mountain, until it shall be necessary for him to spring forth and save the german fatherland. one set of students assert that the christ was merely the personification of vegetable life, claiming that his death and resurrection typify the death and revivification of vegetation. others hold that he is the modern phase of the eternal sun-god. to sustain this hypothesis the following allegorical interpretation of his supposed career is offered as an explanation. he was born on the early dawn of the twenty-fifth day of december, the day on which commences the sun's apparent revolution around the earth; his birth was announced by the brilliant morning star; his virgin mother was the pure and beautiful dawn; his temptation was his struggle with the adverse clouds which he dispersed; his trial, execution, and death were emblematic of the solar decline and crucifixion at the beginning of winter; his descent into hell was typical of the three days of the winter solstice; and his resurrection and ascension refer to the return of the sun after its seeming extinction. i have now shown that among the great majority of the nations of antiquity, no matter as to how they may have differed in the details, all held one general idea of faith in a savior-mediator between man and the supreme deity. some such medium seemed necessary to them, for they had not reached that intellectual plane on which one feels able to hold direct communication with the creator. modern christianity, in all its forms, still panders to this ancient superstition that man must needs have an agent between himself and his god. he must have an intercessor between his weakness and god's power--and vengeance. but when the human mind is freed from superstition and men learn that right living and a clean ethical code is all that is required, then they will cease to bow, either physically or mentally, to any humanly invented mediator, and their enlarged ideas of the justice of the supreme deity will prohibit any belief in impossible demi-gods. however, for the majority, that happy time of emancipation is still in the distant future, and, until its dawn lightens the general intelligence, men will continue to adore and supplicate the mediator whom inheritance and environment have taught them to revere, as krishna, buddha, mithras, or the christ, as the case may be. bibliography. apocryphal new testament, being all the gospels, epistles and other pieces now extant, attributed in the first four centuries to jesus christ, his apostles, and their companions, and not included in the new testament by its compilers. london. printed for william hone, . baring-gould, s.--curious myths of the middle ages. london. . legends of the patriarchs and prophets, and other old testament characters. new york. . the origin and development of religious beliefs. new york. . vols. blavatsky, h. p.--isis unveiled: a master-key to the mysteries of ancient and modern science and mythology. new york. . vols. bourke, john g.--scatalogic rites of all nations. washington. . bunsen, christian charles josias.--christianity and mankind; their beginnings and prospects. london. . vols. god in history; or, the progress of man's faith in the moral order of the world. london. . vols. castan, l'abee em.--les origines du christianisme d'apres la tradition catholique. paris. . vols. les origines du christianisme d'apres la critique rationaliste contemporaine. paris. . chantepepie de la saussaye, p. d.--the religion of the teutons. boston. . cheetham, s.--the mysteries--pagan and christian. london. . christlieb, theodore.--modern doubt and christian belief. new york. . clodd, edward.--myths and dreams. london. . colenso, john william.--lectures on the pentateuch and moabite stone. london. . conway, moncure daniel.--idols and ideals, with an essay on christianity. new york. . doane, t. w.--bible myths and their parallels in other religions. new york. dorman, rushton m.--the origin of primitive superstitions, etc. philadelphia. . draper, john william.--history of the conflict between religion and science. new york. . history of the intellectual development of europe. new york. . vols. farrar, j. a.--paganism and christianity. london. . primitive manners and customs. new york. . figuier, louis.--histoire du merveilleux dans les temps modernes. paris. . vols. fiske, john.--myths and myth-makers. boston. . frazer, j. c.--the golden bough. london. . vols. frothingham, octavius brooks.--the cradle of the christ. new york. . gibbon, edward.--the history of the decline and fall of the roman empire. philadelphia. . vols. de gubernatis, angelo.--zoological mythology; or, the legends of animals. london. . vols. hardwick, charles.--christ and other masters. london. . hargraves, jennings.--the rosicrucians. their rites and mysteries. london. . vols. harnack, adolph.--the expansion of christianity in the first three centuries. translated by james moffatt. new york. . vols. herodotus.--translation of g. c. macauley. london. . vols. hislop, alexander.--the two babylons; or, the papal worship, etc. edinburgh. . hone, william.--ancient mysteries described, etc. london. . hudson, thompson jay.--the law of psychic phenomena. chicago. . inman, thomas.--ancient faiths and modern. london. . ancient pagan and modern christian symbolism. london. . jameson, mrs.--legends of the madonna. london. . jevons, frank byron.--an introduction to the history of religion. london. . lang, andrew.--custom and myth. london. . myth, ritual, and religion. london. . vols. lecky, william edward hartpole.--history of european morals from augustus to charlemagne. london. . vols. history of the rise and influence of the spirit of rationalism in europe. new york. . vols. kundy, j. p.--monumental christianity. london. . macdonald, james.--religion and myth. london. . middleton, conyers.--a letter from rome. london. . des mousseaux.--les haunts phenomenes de la magie moeurs et pratiques des demons. . muller, max.--chips from a german workshop. london. . vols. orr, james.--the virgin birth of christ. new york. . picart, bernard.--the ceremonies and religious customs of the various nations of the known world, etc. london. . vols. priestley, joseph.--an history of the corruptions of christianity. birmingham. . vols. renan, ernest.--the life of jesus. translated by c. e. wilboir. new york. . sharpe, samuel.--egyptian mythology and egyptian christianity. london. . smith, w. robertson.--lectures on the religion of the semites. edinburgh. . strauss, david friedrich.--the life of jesus. translated by george eliot. london. . tuttle, hudson.--the career of the christ-idea in history. boston. the career of the god-idea in history. boston. note [ ] the use of unleavened bread by the greek church caused great disputes between it and the latin in the eleventh century, but the latter finally accepted it on the argument that as the christ instituted the supper during the passover, he must have used it, as there was no leaven procurable at that time. pagan & christian creeds: their origin and meaning by edward carpenter "the different religions being lame attempts to represent under various guises this one root-fact of the central universal life, men have at all times clung to the religious creeds and rituals and ceremonials as symbolising in some rude way the redemption and fulfilment of their own most intimate natures--and this whether consciously understanding the interpretations, or whether (as most often) only doing so in an unconscious or quite subconscious way." the drama of love and death, p. . contents i. introductory ii. solar myths and christian festivals iii. the symbolism of the zodiac iv. totem-sacraments and eucharists v. food and vegetation magic vi. magicians, kings and gods vii. rites of expiation and redemption viii. pagan initiations and the second birth ix. myth of the golden age x. the saviour-god and the virgin-mother xi. ritual dancing xii. the sex-taboo xiii. the genesis of christianity xv. the meaning of it all xv. the ancient mysteries xvi. the exodus of christianity xvii. conclusion appendix on the teachings of the upanishads: i. rest ii. the nature of the self pagan and christian creeds: their origin and meaning i. introductory the subject of religious origins is a fascinating one, as the great multitude of books upon it, published in late years, tends to show. indeed the great difficulty to-day in dealing with the subject, lies in the very mass of the material to hand--and that not only on account of the labor involved in sorting the material, but because the abundance itself of facts opens up temptation to a student in this department of anthropology (as happens also in other branches of general science) to rush in too hastily with what seems a plausible theory. the more facts, statistics, and so forth, there are available in any investigation, the easier it is to pick out a considerable number which will fit a given theory. the other facts being neglected or ignored, the views put forward enjoy for a time a great vogue. then inevitably, and at a later time, new or neglected facts alter the outlook, and a new perspective is established. there is also in these matters of science (though many scientific men would doubtless deny this) a great deal of "fashion". such has been notoriously the case in political economy, medicine, geology, and even in such definite studies as physics and chemistry. in a comparatively recent science, like that with which we are now concerned, one would naturally expect variations. a hundred and fifty years ago, and since the time of rousseau, the "noble savage" was extremely popular; and he lingers still in the story books of our children. then the reaction from this extreme view set in, and of late years it has been the popular cue (largely, it must be said, among "armchair" travelers and explorers) to represent the religious rites and customs of primitive folk as a senseless mass of superstitions, and the early man as quite devoid of decent feeling and intelligence. again, when the study of religious origins first began in modern times to be seriously taken up--say in the earlier part of last century--there was a great boom in sungods. every divinity in the pantheon was an impersonation of the sun--unless indeed (if feminine) of the moon. apollo was a sungod, of course; hercules was a sungod; samson was a sungod; indra and krishna, and even christ, the same. c. f. dupuis in france (origine de tous les cultes, ), f. nork in germany (biblische mythologie, ), richard taylor in england (the devil's pulpit, ( ) ), were among the first in modern times to put forward this view. a little later the phallic explanation of everything came into fashion. the deities were all polite names for the organs and powers of procreation. r. p. knight (ancient art and mythology, ) and dr. thomas inman (ancient faiths and ancient names, ) popularized this idea in england; so did nork in germany. then again there was a period of what is sometimes called euhemerism--the theory that the gods and goddesses had actually once been men and women, historical characters round whom a halo of romance and remoteness had gathered. later still, a school has arisen which thinks little of sungods, and pays more attention to earth and nature spirits, to gnomes and demons and vegetation-sprites, and to the processes of magic by which these (so it was supposed) could be enlisted in man's service if friendly, or exorcised if hostile. ( ) this extraordinary book, though carelessly composed and containing many unproven statements, was on the whole on the right lines. but it raised a storm of opposition--the more so because its author was a clergyman! he was ejected from the ministry, of course, and was sent to prison twice. it is easy to see of course that there is some truth in all these explanations; but naturally each school for the time being makes the most of its own contention. mr. j. m. robertson (pagan christs and christianity and mythology), who has done such fine work in this field, ( ) relies chiefly on the solar and astronomical origins, though he does not altogether deny the others; dr. frazer, on the other hand--whose great work, the golden bough, is a monumental collection of primitive customs, and will be an inexhaustible quarry for all future students--is apparently very little concerned with theories about the sun and the stars, but concentrates his attention on the collection of innumerable details ( ) of rites, chiefly magical, connected with food and vegetation. still later writers, like s. reinach, jane harrison and e. a. crowley, being mainly occupied with customs of very primitive peoples, like the pelasgian greeks or the australian aborigines, have confined themselves (necessarily) even more to magic and witchcraft. ( ) if only he did not waste so much time, and so needlessly, in slaughtering opponents! ( ) to such a degree, indeed, that sometimes the connecting clue of the argument seems to be lost. meanwhile the christian church from these speculations has kept itself severely apart--as of course representing a unique and divine revelation little concerned or interested in such heathenisms; and moreover (in this country at any rate) has managed to persuade the general public of its own divine uniqueness to such a degree that few people, even nowadays, realize that it has sprung from just the same root as paganism, and that it shares by far the most part of its doctrines and rites with the latter. till quite lately it was thought (in britain) that only secularists and unfashionable people took any interest in sungods; and while it was true that learned professors might point to a belief in magic as one of the first sources of religion, it was easy in reply to say that this obviously had nothing to do with christianity! the secularists, too, rather spoilt their case by assuming, in their wrath against the church, that all priests since the beginning of the world have been frauds and charlatans, and that all the rites of religion were merely devil's devices invented by them for the purpose of preying upon the superstitions of the ignorant, to their own enrichment. they (the secularists) overleaped themselves by grossly exaggerating a thing that no doubt is partially true. thus the subject of religious origins is somewhat complex, and yields many aspects for consideration. it is only, i think, by keeping a broad course and admitting contributions to the truth from various sides, that valuable results can be obtained. it is absurd to suppose that in this or any other science neat systems can be found which will cover all the facts. nature and history do not deal in such things, or supply them for a sop to man's vanity. it is clear that there have been three main lines, so far, along which human speculation and study have run. one connecting religious rites and observations with the movements of the sun and the planets in the sky, and leading to the invention of and belief in olympian and remote gods dwelling in heaven and ruling the earth from a distance; the second connecting religion with the changes of the season, on the earth and with such practical things as the growth of vegetation and food, and leading to or mingled with a vague belief in earth-spirits and magical methods of influencing such spirits; and the third connecting religion with man's own body and the tremendous force of sex residing in it--emblem of undying life and all fertility and power. it is clear also--and all investigation confirms it--that the second-mentioned phase of religion arose on the whole before the first-mentioned--that is, that men naturally thought about the very practical questions of food and vegetation, and the magical or other methods of encouraging the same, before they worried themselves about the heavenly bodies and the laws of their movements, or about the sinister or favorable influences the stars might exert. and again it is extremely probable that the third-mentioned aspect--that which connected religion with the procreative desires and phenomena of human physiology--really came first. these desires and physiological phenomena must have loomed large on the primitive mind long before the changes of the seasons or of the sky had been at all definitely observed or considered. thus we find it probable that, in order to understand the sequence of the actual and historical phases of religious worship, we must approximately reverse the order above-given in which they have been studied, and conclude that in general the phallic cults came first, the cult of magic and the propitiation of earth-divinities and spirits came second, and only last came the belief in definite god-figures residing in heaven. at the base of the whole process by which divinities and demons were created, and rites for their propitiation and placation established, lay fear--fear stimulating the imagination to fantastic activity. primus in orbe deos fecit timor. and fear, as we shall see, only became a mental stimulus at the time of, or after, the evolution of self-consciousness. before that time, in the period of simple consciousness, when the human mind resembled that of the animals, fear indeed existed, but its nature was more that of a mechanical protective instinct. there being no figure or image of self in the animal mind, there were correspondingly no figures or images of beings who might threaten or destroy that self. so it was that the imaginative power of fear began with self-consciousness, and from that imaginative power was unrolled the whole panorama of the gods and rites and creeds of religion down the centuries. the immense force and domination of fear in the first self-conscious stages of the human mind is a thing which can hardly be exaggerated, and which is even difficult for some of us moderns to realize. but naturally as soon as man began to think about himself--a frail phantom and waif in the midst of tremendous forces of whose nature and mode of operation he was entirely ignorant--he was beset with terrors; dangers loomed upon him on all sides. even to-day it is noticed by doctors that one of the chief obstacles to the cure of illness among some black or native races is sheer superstitious terror; and thanatomania is the recognized word for a state of mind ("obsession of death") which will often cause a savage to perish from a mere scratch hardly to be called a wound. the natural defence against this state of mind was the creation of an enormous number of taboos--such as we find among all races and on every conceivable subject--and these taboos constituted practically a great body of warnings which regulated the lives and thoughts of the community, and ultimately, after they had been weeded out and to some degree simplified, hardened down into very stringent customs and laws. such taboos naturally in the beginning tended to include the avoidance not only of acts which might reasonably be considered dangerous, like touching a corpse, but also things much more remote and fanciful in their relation to danger, like merely looking at a mother-in-law, or passing a lightning-struck tree; and (what is especially to be noticed) they tended to include acts which offered any special pleasure or temptation--like sex or marriage or the enjoyment of a meal. taboos surrounded these things too, and the psychological connection is easy to divine: but i shall deal with this general subject later. it may be guessed that so complex a system of regulations made life anything but easy to early peoples; but, preposterous and unreasonable as some of the taboos were, they undoubtedly had the effect of compelling the growth of self-control. fear does not seem a very worthy motive, but in the beginning it curbed the violence of the purely animal passions, and introduced order and restraint among them. simultaneously it became itself, through the gradual increase of knowledge and observation, transmuted and etherealized into something more like wonder and awe and (when the gods rose above the horizon) into reverence. anyhow we seem to perceive that from the early beginnings (in the stone age) of self-consciousness in man there has been a gradual development--from crass superstition, senseless and accidental, to rudimentary observation, and so to belief in magic; thence to animism and personification of nature-powers in more or less human form, as earth-divinities or sky-gods or embodiments of the tribe; and to placation of these powers by rites like sacrifice and the eucharist, which in their turn became the foundation of morality. graphic representations made for the encouragement of fertility--as on the walls of bushmen's rock-dwellings or the ceilings of the caverns of altamira--became the nurse of pictorial art; observations of plants or of the weather or the stars, carried on by tribal medicine-men for purposes of witchcraft or prophecy, supplied some of the material of science; and humanity emerged by faltering and hesitating steps on the borderland of those finer perceptions and reasonings which are supposed to be characteristic of civilization. the process of the evolution of religious rites and ceremonies has in its main outlines been the same all over the world, as the reader will presently see--and this whether in connection with the numerous creeds of paganism or the supposedly unique case of christianity; and now the continuity and close intermixture of these great streams can no longer be denied--nor is it indeed denied by those who have really studied the subject. it is seen that religious evolution through the ages has been practically one thing--that there has been in fact a world-religion, though with various phases and branches. and so in the present day a new problem arises, namely how to account for the appearance of this great phenomenon, with its orderly phases of evolution, and its own spontaneous ( ) growths in all corners of the globe--this phenomenon which has had such a strange sway over the hearts of men, which has attracted them with so weird a charm, which has drawn out their devotion, love and tenderness, which has consoled them in sorrow and affliction, and yet which has stained their history with such horrible sacrifices and persecutions and cruelties. what has been the instigating cause of it? ( ) for the question of spontaneity see chap. x and elsewhere. the answer which i propose to this question, and which is developed to some extent in the following chapters, is a psychological one. it is that the phenomenon proceeds from, and is a necessary accompaniment of, the growth of human consciousness itself--its growth, namely, through the three great stages of its unfoldment. these stages are ( ) that of the simple or animal consciousness, ( ) that of self-consciousness, and ( ) that of a third stage of consciousness which has not as yet been effectively named, but whose indications and precursive signs we here and there perceive in the rites and prophecies and mysteries of the early religions, and in the poetry and art and literature generally of the later civilizations. though i do not expect or wish to catch nature and history in the careful net of a phrase, yet i think that in the sequence from the above-mentioned first stage to the second, and then again in the sequence from the second to the third, there will be found a helpful explanation of the rites and aspirations of human religion. it is this idea, illustrated by details of ceremonial and so forth, which forms the main thesis of the present book. in this sequence of growth, christianity enters as an episode, but no more than an episode. it does not amount to a disruption or dislocation of evolution. if it did, or if it stood as an unique or unclassifiable phenomenon (as some of its votaries contend), this would seem to be a misfortune--as it would obviously rob us of at any rate one promise of progress in the future. and the promise of something better than paganism and better than christianity is very precious. it is surely time that it should be fulfilled. the tracing, therefore, of the part that human self-consciousness has played, psychologically, in the evolution of religion, runs like a thread through the following chapters, and seeks illustration in a variety of details. the idea has been repeated under different aspects; sometimes, possibly, it has been repeated too often; but different aspects in such a case do help, as in a stereoscope, to give solidity to the thing seen. though the worship of sun-gods and divine figures in the sky came comparatively late in religious evolution, have put this subject early in the book (chapters ii and iii), partly because (as i have already explained) it was the phase first studied in modern times, and therefore is the one most familiar to present-day readers, and partly because its astronomical data give great definiteness and "proveability" to it, in rebuttal to the common accusation that the whole study of religious origins is too vague and uncertain to have much value. going backwards in time, the two next chapters (iv and v) deal with totem-sacraments and magic, perhaps the earliest forms of religion. and these four lead on (in chapters vi to xi) to the consideration of rites and creeds common to paganism and christianity. xii and xiii deal especially with the evolution of christianity itself; xiv and xv explain the inner meaning of the whole process from the beginning; and xvi and xvii look to the future. the appendix on the doctrines of the upanishads may, i hope, serve to give an idea, intimate even though inadequate, of the third stage--that which follows on the stage of self-consciousness; and to portray the mental attitudes which are characteristic of that stage. here in this third stage, it would seem, one comes upon the real facts of the inner life--in contradistinction to the fancies and figments of the second stage; and so one reaches the final point of conjunction between science and religion. ii. solar myths and christian festivals to the ordinary public--notwithstanding the immense amount of work which has of late been done on this subject--the connection between paganism and christianity still seems rather remote. indeed the common notion is that christianity was really a miraculous interposition into and dislocation of the old order of the world; and that the pagan gods (as in milton's hymn on the nativity) fled away in dismay before the sign of the cross, and at the sound of the name of jesus. doubtless this was a view much encouraged by the early church itself--if only to enhance its own authority and importance; yet, as is well known to every student, it is quite misleading and contrary to fact. the main christian doctrines and festivals, besides a great mass of affiliated legend and ceremonial, are really quite directly derived from, and related to, preceding nature worships; and it has only been by a good deal of deliberate mystification and falsification that this derivation has been kept out of sight. in these nature-worships there may be discerned three fairly independent streams of religious or quasi-religious enthusiasm: ( ) that connected with the phenomena of the heavens, the movements of the sun, planets and stars, and the awe and wonderment they excited; ( ) that connected with the seasons and the very important matter of the growth of vegetation and food on the earth; and ( ) that connected with the mysteries of sex and reproduction. it is obvious that these three streams would mingle and interfuse with each other a good deal; but as far as they were separable the first would tend to create solar heroes and sun-myths; the second vegetation-gods and personifications of nature and the earth-life; while the third would throw its glamour over the other two and contribute to the projection of deities or demons worshipped with all sorts of sexual and phallic rites. all three systems of course have their special rites and times and ceremonies; but, as, i say, the rites and ceremonies of one system would rarely be found pure and unmixed with those belonging to the two others. the whole subject is a very large one; but for reasons given in the introduction i shall in this and the following chapter--while not ignoring phases ( ) and ( )--lay most stress on phase ( ) of the question before us. at the time of the life or recorded appearance of jesus of nazareth, and for some centuries before, the mediterranean and neighboring world had been the scene of a vast number of pagan creeds and rituals. there were temples without end dedicated to gods like apollo or dionysus among the greeks, hercules among the romans, mithra among the persians, adonis and attis in syria and phrygia, osiris and isis and horus in egypt, baal and astarte among the babylonians and carthaginians, and so forth. societies, large or small, united believers and the devout in the service or ceremonials connected with their respective deities, and in the creeds which they confessed concerning these deities. and an extraordinarily interesting fact, for us, is that notwithstanding great geographical distances and racial differences between the adherents of these various cults, as well as differences in the details of their services, the general outlines of their creeds and ceremonials were--if not identical--so markedly similar as we find them. i cannot of course go at length into these different cults, but i may say roughly that of all or nearly all the deities above-mentioned it was said and believed that: ( ) they were born on or very near our christmas day. ( ) they were born of a virgin-mother. ( ) and in a cave or underground chamber. ( ) they led a life of toil for mankind. ( ) and were called by the names of light-bringer, healer, mediator, savior, deliverer. ( ) they were however vanquished by the powers of darkness. ( ) and descended into hell or the underworld. ( ) they rose again from the dead, and became the pioneers of mankind to the heavenly world. ( ) they founded communions of saints, and churches into which disciples were received by baptism. ( ) and they were commemorated by eucharistic meals. let me give a few brief examples. mithra was born in a cave, and on the th december. ( ) he was born of a virgin. ( ) he traveled far and wide as a teacher and illuminator of men. he slew the bull (symbol of the gross earth which the sunlight fructifies). his great festivals were the winter solstice and the spring equinox (christmas and easter). he had twelve companions or disciples (the twelve months). he was buried in a tomb, from which however he rose again; and his resurrection was celebrated yearly with great rejoicings. he was called savior and mediator, and sometimes figured as a lamb; and sacramental feasts in remembrance of him were held by his followers. this legend is apparently partly astronomical and partly vegetational; and the same may be said of the following about osiris. ( ) the birthfeast of mithra was held in rome on the th day before the kalends of january, being also the day of the circassian games, which were sacred to the sun. (see f. nork, der mystagog, leipzig.) ( ) this at any rate was reported by his later disciples (see robertson's pagan christs, p. ). osiris was born (plutarch tells us) on the st day of the year, say the th december. he too, like mithra and dionysus, was a great traveler. as king of egypt he taught men civil arts, and "tamed them by music and gentleness, not by force of arms"; ( ) he was the discoverer of corn and wine. but he was betrayed by typhon, the power of darkness, and slain and dismembered. "this happened," says plutarch, "on the th of the month athyr, when the sun enters into the scorpion" (the sign of the zodiac which indicates the oncoming of winter). his body was placed in a box, but afterwards, on the th, came again to life, and, as in the cults of mithra, dionysus, adonis and others, so in the cult of osiris, an image placed in a coffin was brought out before the worshipers and saluted with glad cries of "osiris is risen." ( ) "his sufferings, his death and his resurrection were enacted year by year in a great mystery-play at abydos." ( ) ( ) see plutarch on isis and osiris. ( ) ancient art and ritual, by jane e. harrison, chap. i. the two following legends have more distinctly the character of vegetation myths. adonis or tammuz, the syrian god of vegetation, was a very beautiful youth, born of a virgin (nature), and so beautiful that venus and proserpine (the goddesses of the upper and underworlds) both fell in love with him. to reconcile their claims it was agreed that he should spend half the year (summer) in the upper world, and the winter half with proserpine below. he was killed by a boar (typhon) in the autumn. and every year the maidens "wept for adonis" (see ezekiel viii. ). in the spring a festival of his resurrection was held--the women set out to seek him, and having found the supposed corpse placed it (a wooden image) in a coffin or hollow tree, and performed wild rites and lamentations, followed by even wilder rejoicings over his supposed resurrection. at aphaca in the north of syria, and halfway between byblus and baalbec, there was a famous grove and temple of astarte, near which was a wild romantic gorge full of trees, the birthplace of a certain river adonis--the water rushing from a cavern, under lofty cliffs. here (it was said) every year the youth adonis was again wounded to death, and the river ran red with his blood, ( ) while the scarlet anemone bloomed among the cedars and walnuts. ( ) a discoloration caused by red earth washed by rain from the mountains, and which has been observed by modern travelers. for the whole story of adonis and of attis see frazer's golden bough, part iv. the story of attis is very similar. he was a fair young shepherd or herdsman of phrygia, beloved by cybele (or demeter), the mother of the gods. he was born of a virgin--nana--who conceived by putting a ripe almond or pomegranate in her bosom. he died, either killed by a boar, the symbol of winter, like adonis, or self-castrated (like his own priests); and he bled to death at the foot of a pine tree (the pine and pine-cone being symbols of fertility). the sacrifice of his blood renewed the fertility of the earth, and in the ritual celebration of his death and resurrection his image was fastened to the trunk of a pine-tree (compare the crucifixion). but i shall return to this legend presently. the worship of attis became very widespread and much honored, and was ultimately incorporated with the established religion at rome somewhere about the commencement of our era. the following two legends (dealing with hercules and with krishna) have rather more of the character of the solar, and less of the vegetational myth about them. both heroes were regarded as great benefactors of humanity; but the former more on the material plane, and the latter on the spiritual. hercules or heracles was, like other sun-gods and benefactors of mankind, a great traveler. he was known in many lands, and everywhere he was invoked as saviour. he was miraculously conceived from a divine father; even in the cradle he strangled two serpents sent to destroy him. his many labors for the good of the world were ultimately epitomized into twelve, symbolized by the signs of the zodiac. he slew the nemxan lion and the hydra (offspring of typhon) and the boar. he overcame the cretan bull, and cleaned out the stables of augeas; he conquered death and, descending into hades, brought cerberus thence and ascended into heaven. on all sides he was followed by the gratitude and the prayers of mortals. as to krishna, the indian god, the points of agreement with the general divine career indicated above are too salient to be overlooked, and too numerous to be fully recorded. he also was born of a virgin (devaki) and in a cave, ( ) and his birth announced by a star. it was sought to destroy him, and for that purpose a massacre of infants was ordered. everywhere he performed miracles, raising the dead, healing lepers, and the deaf and the blind, and championing the poor and oppressed. he had a beloved disciple, arjuna, (cf. john) before whom he was transfigured. ( ) his death is differently related--as being shot by an arrow, or crucified on a tree. he descended into hell; and rose again from the dead, ascending into heaven in the sight of many people. he will return at the last day to be the judge of the quick and the dead. ( ) cox's myths of the aryan nations, p. . ( ) bhagavat gita, ch. xi. such are some of the legends concerning the pagan and pre-christian deities--only briefly sketched now, in order that we may get something like a true perspective of the whole subject; but to most of them, and more in detail, i shall return as the argument proceeds. what we chiefly notice so far are two points; on the one hand the general similarity of these stories with that of jesus christ; on the other their analogy with the yearly phenomena of nature as illustrated by the course of the sun in heaven and the changes of vegetation on the earth. ( ) the similarity of these ancient pagan legends and beliefs with christian traditions was indeed so great that it excited the attention and the undisguised wrath of the early christian fathers. they felt no doubt about the similarity, but not knowing how to explain it fell back upon the innocent theory that the devil--in order to confound the christians--had, centuries before, caused the pagans to adopt certain beliefs and practices! (very crafty, we may say, of the devil, but also very innocent of the fathers to believe it!) justin martyr for instance describes ( ) the institution of the lord's supper as narrated in the gospels, and then goes on to say: "which the wicked devils have imitated in the mysteries of mithra, commanding the same thing to be done. for, that bread and a cup of water are placed with certain incantations in the mystic rites of one who is being initiated you either know or can learn." tertullian also says ( ) that "the devil by the mysteries of his idols imitates even the main part of the divine mysteries."... "he baptizes his worshippers in water and makes them believe that this purifies them from their crimes."... "mithra sets his mark on the forehead of his soldiers; he celebrates the oblation of bread; he offers an image of the resurrection, and presents at once the crown and the sword; he limits his chief priest to a single marriage; he even has his virgins and ascetics." ( ) cortez, too, it will be remembered complained that the devil had positively taught to the mexicans the same things which god had taught to christendom. ( ) i apol. c. . ( ) de praescriptione hereticorum, c. ; de bapt. c. ; de corona, c. . ( ) for reference to both these examples see j. m. robertson's pagan christs, pp. , . justin martyr again, in the dialogue with trypho says that the birth in the stable was the prototype (!) of the birth of mithra in the cave of zoroastrianism; and boasts that christ was born when the sun takes its birth in the augean stable, ( ) coming as a second hercules to cleanse a foul world; and st. augustine says "we hold this (christmas) day holy, not like the pagans because of the birth of the sun, but because of the birth of him who made it." there are plenty of other instances in the early fathers of their indignant ascription of these similarities to the work of devils; but we need not dwell over them. there is no need for us to be indignant. on the contrary we can now see that these animadversions of the christian writers are the evidence of how and to what extent in the spread of christianity over the world it had become fused with the pagan cults previously existing. ( ) the zodiacal sign of capricornus, iii. it was not till the year a.d. or so--five centuries after the supposed birth of christ--that a scythian monk, dionysius exiguus, an abbot and astronomer of rome, was commissioned to fix the day and the year of that birth. a nice problem, considering the historical science of the period! for year he assigned the date which we now adopt, ( ) and for day and month he adopted the th december--a date which had been in popular use since about b.c., and the very date, within a day or two, of the supposed birth of the previous sungods. ( ) from that fact alone we may fairly conclude that by the year or earlier the existing nature-worships had become largely fused into christianity. in fact the dates of the main pagan religious festivals had by that time become so popular that christianity was obliged to accommodate itself to them. ( ) ( ) as, for instance, the festival of john the baptist in june took the place of the pagan midsummer festival of water and bathing; the assumption of the virgin in august the place of that of diana in the same month; and the festival of all souls early in november, that of the world-wide pagan feasts of the dead and their ghosts at the same season. ( ) see encycl. brit. art. "chronology." ( ) "there is however a difficulty in accepting the th december as the real date of the nativity, december being the height of the rainy season in judaea, when neither flocks nor shepherds could have been at night in the fields of bethlehem" (!). encycl. brit. art. "christmas day." according to hastings's encyclopaedia, art. "christmas," "usener says that the feast of the nativity was held originally on the th january (the epiphany), but in - the pope liberius displaced it to the th december... but there is no evidence of a feast of the nativity taking place at all, before the fourth century a.d." it was not till a.d. that christmas day and epiphany were reckoned by the law-courts as dies non. this brings us to the second point mentioned a few pages back--the analogy between the christian festivals and the yearly phenomena of nature in the sun and the vegetation. let us take christmas day first. mithra, as we have seen, was reported to have been born on the th december (which in the julian calendar was reckoned as the day of the winter solstice and of the nativity of the sun); plutarch says (isis and osiris, c. ) that osiris was born on the st day of the year, when a voice rang out proclaiming the lord of all. horus, he says, was born on the nd day. apollo on the same. why was all this? why did the druids at yule tide light roaring fires? why was the cock supposed to crow all christmas eve ("the bird of dawning singeth all night long")? why was apollo born with only one hair (the young sun with only one feeble ray)? why did samson (name derived from shemesh, the sun) lose all his strength when he lost his hair? why were so many of these gods--mithra, apollo, krishna, jesus, and others, born in caves or underground chambers? ( ) why, at the easter eve festival of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem is a light brought from the grave and communicated to the candles of thousands who wait outside, and who rush forth rejoicing to carry the new glory over the world? ( ) why indeed? except that older than all history and all written records has been the fear and wonderment of the children of men over the failure of the sun's strength in autumn--the decay of their god; and the anxiety lest by any means he should not revive or reappear? ( ) this same legend of gods (or idols) being born in caves has, curiously enough, been reported from mexico, guatemala, the antilles, and other places in central america. see c. f. p. von martius, etknographie amerika, etc. (leipzig, ), vol. i, p. . ( ) compare the aztec ceremonial of lighting a holy fire and communicating it to the multitude from the wounded breast of a human victim, celebrated every years at the end of one cycle and the beginning of another--the constellation of the pleiades being in the zenith (prescott's conquest of mexico, bk. i, ch. ). think for a moment of a time far back when there were absolutely no almanacs or calendars, either nicely printed or otherwise, when all that timid mortals could see was that their great source of light and warmth was daily failing, daily sinking lower in the sky. as everyone now knows there are about three weeks at the fag end of the year when the days are at their shortest and there is very little change. what was happening? evidently the god had fallen upon evil times. typhon, the prince of darkness, had betrayed him; delilah, the queen of night, had shorn his hair; the dreadful boar had wounded him; hercules was struggling with death itself; he had fallen under the influence of those malign constellations--the serpent and the scorpion. would the god grow weaker and weaker, and finally succumb, or would he conquer after all? we can imagine the anxiety with which those early men and women watched for the first indication of a lengthening day; and the universal joy when the priest (the representative of primitive science) having made some simple observations, announced from the temple steps that the day was lengthening--that the sun was really born again to a new and glorious career. ( ) ( ) it was such things as these which doubtless gave the priesthood its power. let us look at the elementary science of those days a little closer. how without almanacs or calendars could the day, or probable day, of the sun's rebirth be fixed? go out next christmas evening, and at midnight you will see the brightest of the fixed stars, sirius, blazing in the southern sky--not however due south from you, but somewhat to the left of the meridian line. some three thousand years ago (owing to the precession of the equinoxes) that star at the winter solstice did not stand at midnight where you now see it, but almost exactly on the meridian line. the coming of sirius therefore to the meridian at midnight became the sign and assurance of the sun having reached the very lowest point of his course, and therefore of having arrived at the moment of his re-birth. where then was the sun at that moment? obviously in the underworld beneath our feet. whatever views the ancients may have had about the shape of the earth, it was evident to the mass of people that the sungod, after illuminating the world during the day, plunged down in the west, and remained there during the hours of darkness in some cavern under the earth. here he rested and after bathing in the great ocean renewed his garments before reappearing in the east next morning. but in this long night of his greatest winter weakness, when all the world was hoping and praying for the renewal of his strength, it is evident that the new birth would come--if it came at all--at midnight. this then was the sacred hour when in the underworld (the stable or the cave or whatever it might be called) the child was born who was destined to be the savior of men. at that moment sirius stood on the southern meridian (and in more southern lands than ours this would be more nearly overhead); and that star--there is little doubt--is the star in the east mentioned in the gospels. to the right, as the supposed observer looks at sirius on the midnight of christmas eve, stands the magnificent orion, the mighty hunter. there are three stars in his belt which, as is well known, lie in a straight line pointing to sirius. they are not so bright as sirius, but they are sufficiently bright to attract attention. a long tradition gives them the name of the three kings. dupuis ( ) says: "orion a trois belles etoiles vers le milieu, qui sont de seconde grandeur et posees en ligne droite, l'une pres de l'autre, le peuple les appelle les trois rois. on donne aux trois rois magis les noms de magalat, galgalat, saraim; et athos, satos, paratoras. les catholiques les appellent gaspard, melchior, et balthasar." the last-mentioned group of names comes in the catholic calendar in connection with the feast of the epiphany ( th january); and the name "trois rois" is commonly to-day given to these stars by the french and swiss peasants. ( ) charles f. dupuis (origine de tous les cultes, paris, ) was one of the earliest modern writers on these subjects. immediately after midnight then, on the th december, the beloved son (or sun-god) is born. if we go back in thought to the period, some three thousand years ago, when at that moment of the heavenly birth sirius, coming from the east, did actually stand on the meridian, we shall come into touch with another curious astronomical coincidence. for at the same moment we shall see the zodiacal constellation of the virgin in the act of rising, and becoming visible in the east divided through the middle by the line of the horizon. the constellation virgo is a y-shaped group, of which [gr a], the star at the foot, is the well-known spica, a star of the first magnitude. the other principal stars, [gr g] at the centre, and [gr b] and [gr e] at the extremities, are of the second magnitude. the whole resembles more a cup than the human figure; but when we remember the symbolic meaning of the cup, that seems to be an obvious explanation of the name virgo, which the constellation has borne since the earliest times. (the three stars [gr b], [gr g] and [gr a], lie very nearly on the ecliptic, that is, the sun's path--a fact to which we shall return presently.) at the moment then when sirius, the star from the east, by coming to the meridian at midnight signalled the sun's new birth, the virgin was seen just rising on the eastern sky--the horizon line passing through her centre. and many people think that this astronomical fact is the explanation of the very widespread legend of the virgin-birth. i do not think that it is the sole explanation--for indeed in all or nearly all these cases the acceptance of a myth seems to depend not upon a single argument but upon the convergence of a number of meanings and reasons in the same symbol. but certainly the fact mentioned above is curious, and its importance is accentuated by the following considerations. in the temple of denderah in egypt, and on the inside of the dome, there is or was an elaborate circular representation of the northern hemisphere of the sky and the zodiac. ( ) here virgo the constellation is represented, as in our star-maps, by a woman with a spike of corn in her hand (spica). but on the margin close by there is an annotating and explicatory figure--a figure of isis with the infant horus in her arms, and quite resembling in style the christian madonna and child, except that she is sitting and the child is on her knee. this seems to show that--whatever other nations may have done in associating virgo with demeter, ceres, diana ( ) etc.--the egyptians made no doubt of the constellation's connection with isis and horus. but it is well known as a matter of history that the worship of isis and horus descended in the early christian centuries to alexandria, where it took the form of the worship of the virgin mary and the infant savior, and so passed into the european ceremonial. we have therefore the virgin mary connected by linear succession and descent with that remote zodiacal cluster in the sky! also it may be mentioned that on the arabian and persian globes of abenezra and abuazar a virgin and child are figured in connection with the same constellation. ( ) ( ) carefully described and mapped by dupuis, see op. cit. ( ) for the harvest-festival of diana, the virgin, and her parallelism with the virgin mary, see the golden bough, vol. i, and ii, . ( ) see f. nork, der mystagog (leipzig, ). a curious confirmation of the same astronomical connection is afforded by the roman catholic calendar. for if this be consulted it will be found that the festival of the assumption of the virgin is placed on the th august, while the festival of the birth of the virgin is dated the th september. i have already pointed out that the stars, [gr a], [gr b] and [gr g] of virgo are almost exactly on the ecliptic, or sun's path through the sky; and a brief reference to the zodiacal signs and the star-maps will show that the sun each year enters the sign of virgo about the first-mentioned date, and leaves it about the second date. at the present day the zodiacal signs (owing to precession) have shifted some distance from the constellations of the same name. but at the time when the zodiac was constituted and these names were given, the first date obviously would signalize the actual disappearance of the cluster virgo in the sun's rays--i. e. the assumption of the virgin into the glory of the god--while the second date would signalize the reappearance of the constellation or the birth of the virgin. the church of notre dame at paris is supposed to be on the original site of a temple of isis; and it is said (but i have not been able to verify this myself) that one of the side entrances--that, namely, on the left in entering from the north (cloister) side--is figured with the signs of the zodiac except that the sign virgo is replaced by the figure of the madonna and child. so strange is the scripture of the sky! innumerable legends and customs connect the rebirth of the sun with a virgin parturition. dr. j. g. frazer in his part iv of the golden bough ( ) says: "if we may trust the evidence of an obscure scholiast the greeks (in the worship of mithras at rome) used to celebrate the birth of the luminary by a midnight service, coming out of the inner shrines and crying, 'the virgin has brought forth! the light is waxing!' ([gr 'h parhenos tetoken, auzei pws].)" in elie reclus' little book primitive folk ( ) it is said of the esquimaux that "on the longest night of the year two angakout (priests), of whom one is disguised as a woman, go from hut to hut extinguishing all the lights, rekindling them from a vestal flame, and crying out, 'from the new sun cometh a new light!'" ( ) book ii, ch. vi. ( ) in the contemporary science series, i. . all this above-written on the solar or astronomical origins of the myths does not of course imply that the vegetational origins must be denied or ignored. these latter were doubtless the earliest, but there is no reason--as said in the introduction (ch. i)--why the two elements should not to some extent have run side by side, or been fused with each other. in fact it is quite clear that they must have done so; and to separate them out too rigidly, or treat them as antagonistic, is a mistake. the cave or underworld in which the new year is born is not only the place of the sun's winter retirement, but also the hidden chamber beneath the earth to which the dying vegetation goes, and from which it re-arises in spring. the amours of adonis with venus and proserpine, the lovely goddesses of the upper and under worlds, or of attis with cybele, the blooming earth-mother, are obvious vegetation-symbols; but they do not exclude the interpretation that adonis (adonai) may also figure as a sun-god. the zodiacal constellations of aries and taurus (to which i shall return presently) rule in heaven just when the lamb and the bull are in evidence on the earth; and the yearly sacrifice of those two animals and of the growing corn for the good of mankind runs parallel with the drama of the sky, as it affects not only the said constellations but also virgo (the earth-mother who bears the sheaf of corn in her hand). i shall therefore continue (in the next chapter) to point out these astronomical references--which are full of significance and poetry; but with a recommendation at the same time to the reader not to forget the poetry and significance of the terrestrial interpretations. between christmas day and easter there are several minor festivals or holy days--such as the th december (the massacre of the innocents), the th january (the epiphany), the nd february (candlemas ( ) day), the period of lent (german lenz, the spring), the annunciation of the blessed virgin, and so forth--which have been commonly celebrated in the pagan cults before christianity, and in which elements of star and nature worship can be traced; but to dwell on all these would take too long; so let us pass at once to the period of easter itself. ( ) this festival of the purification of the virgin corresponds with the old roman festival of juno februata (i. e. purified) which was held in the last month (february) of the roman year, and which included a candle procession of ceres, searching for proserpine. (f. nork, der mystagog.) iii. the symbolism of the zodiac the vernal equinox has all over the ancient world, and from the earliest times, been a period of rejoicing and of festivals in honor of the sungod. it is needless to labor a point which is so well known. everyone understands and appreciates the joy of finding that the long darkness is giving way, that the sun is growing in strength, and that the days are winning a victory over the nights. the birds and flowers reappear, and the promise of spring is in the air. but it may be worth while to give an elementary explanation of the astronomical meaning of this period, because this is not always understood, and yet it is very important in its bearing on the rites and creeds of the early religions. the priests who were, as i have said, the early students and inquirers, had worked out this astronomical side, and in that way were able to fix dates and to frame for the benefit of the populace myths and legends, which were in a certain sense explanations of the order of nature, and a kind of "popular science." the equator, as everyone knows, is an imaginary line or circle girdling the earth half-way between the north and south poles. if you imagine a transparent earth with a light at its very centre, and also imagine the shadow of this equatorial line to be thrown on the vast concave of the sky, this shadow would in astronomical parlance coincide with the equator of the sky--forming an imaginary circle half-way between the north and south celestial poles. the equator, then, may be pictured as cutting across the sky either by day or by night, and always at the same elevation--that is, as seen from any one place. but the ecliptic (the other important great circle of the heavens) can only be thought of as a line traversing the constellations as they are seen at night. it is in fact the sun's path among the fixed stars. for (really owing to the earth's motion in its orbit) the sun appears to move round the heavens once a year--travelling, always to the left, from constellation to constellation. the exact path of the sun is called the ecliptic; and the band of sky on either side of the ecliptic which may be supposed to include the said constellations is called the zodiac. how then--it will of course be asked--seeing that the sun and the stars can never be seen together--were the priests able to map out the path of the former among the latter? into that question we need not go. sufficient to say that they succeeded; and their success--even with the very primitive instruments they had--shows that their astronomical knowledge and acuteness of reasoning were of no mean order. to return to our vernal equinox. let us suppose that the equator and ecliptic of the sky, at the spring season, are represented by two lines eq. and ecl. crossing each other at the point p. the sun, represented by the small circle, is moving slowly and in its annual course along the ecliptic to the left. when it reaches the point p (the dotted circle) it stands on the equator of the sky, and then for a day or two, being neither north nor south, it shines on the two terrestrial hemispheres alike, and day and night are equal. before that time, when the sun is low down in the heavens, night has the advantage, and the days are short; afterwards, when the sun has travelled more to the left, the days triumph over the nights. it will be seen then that this point p where the sun's path crosses the equator is a very critical point. it is the astronomical location of the triumph of the sungod and of the arrival of spring. how was this location defined? among what stars was the sun moving at that critical moment? (for of course it was understood, or supposed, that the sun was deeply influenced by the constellation through which it was, or appeared to be, moving.) it seems then that at the period when these questions were occupying men's minds--say about three thousand years ago--the point where the ecliptic crossed the equator was, as a matter of fact, in the region of the constellation aries or the he-lamb. the triumph of the sungod was therefore, and quite naturally, ascribed to the influence of aries. the lamb became the symbol of the risen savior, and of his passage from the underworld into the height of heaven. at first such an explanation sounds hazardous; but a thousand texts and references confirm it; and it is only by the accumulation of evidence in these cases that the student becomes convinced of a theory's correctness. it must also be remembered (what i have mentioned before) that these myths and legends were commonly adopted not only for one strict reason but because they represented in a general way the convergence of various symbols and inferences. let me enumerate a few points with regard to the vernal equinox. in the bible the festival is called the passover, and its supposed institution by moses is related in exodus, ch. xii. in every house a he-lamb was to be slain, and its blood to be sprinkled on the doorposts of the house. then the lord would pass over and not smite that house. the hebrew word is pasach, to pass. ( ) the lamb slain was called the paschal lamb. but what was that lamb? evidently not an earthly lamb--(though certainly the earthly lambs on the hillsides were just then ready to be killed and eaten)--but the heavenly lamb, which was slain or sacrificed when the lord "passed over" the equator and obliterated the constellation aries. this was the lamb of god which was slain each year, and "slain since the foundation of the world." this period of the passover (about the th march) was to be ( ) the beginning of a new year. the sacrifice of the lamb, and its blood, were to be the promise of redemption. the door-frames of the houses--symbols of the entrance into a new life--were to be sprinkled with blood. ( ) later, the imagery of the saving power of the blood of the lamb became more popular, more highly colored. (see st. paul's epistles, and the early fathers.) and we have the expression "washed in the blood of the lamb" adopted into the christian church. ( ) it is said that pasach sometimes means not so much to pass over, as to hover over and so protect. possibly both meanings enter in here. see isaiah xxxi. . ( ) see exodus xii. i. ( ) it is even said (see the golden bough, vol. iii, ) that the doorways of houses and temples in peru were at the spring festival daubed with blood of the first-born children--commuted afterwards to the blood of the sacred animal, the llama. and as to mexico, sahagun, the great spanish missionary, tells us that it was a custom of the people there to "smear the outside of their houses and doors with blood drawn from their own ears and ankles, in order to propitiate the god of harvest" (kingsborough's mexican antiquities, vol. vi, p. ). in order fully to understand this extraordinary expression and its origin we must turn for a moment to the worship both of mithra, the persian sungod, and of attis the syrian god, as throwing great light on the christian cult and ceremonies. it must be remembered that in the early centuries of our era the mithra-cult was spread over the whole western world. it has left many monuments of itself here in britain. at rome the worship was extremely popular, and it may almost be said to have been a matter of chance whether mithraism should overwhelm christianity, or whether the younger religion by adopting many of the rites of the older one should establish itself (as it did) in the face of the latter. now we have already mentioned that in the mithra cult the slaying of a bull by the sungod occupies the same sort of place as the slaving of the lamb in the christian cult. it took place at the vernal equinox and the blood of the bull acquired in men's minds a magic virtue. mithraism was a greatly older religion than christianity; but its genesis was similar. in fact, owing to the precession of the equinoxes, the crossing-place of the ecliptic and equator was different at the time of the establishment of mithra-worship from what it was in the christian period; and the sun instead of standing in the he-lamb, or aries, at the vernal equinox stood, about two thousand years earlier (as indicated by the dotted line in the diagram), in this very constellation of the bull. ( ) the bull therefore became the symbol of the triumphant god, and the sacrifice of the bull a holy mystery. (nor must we overlook here the agricultural appropriateness of the bull as the emblem of spring-plowings and of service to man.) ( ) with regard to this point, see an article in the nineteenth century for september , by e. w. maunder of the greenwich observatory on "the oldest picture book" (the zodiac). mr. maunder calculates that the vernal equinox was in the centre of the sign of the bull , years ago. (it would therefore be in the centre of aries , years ago--allowing , years for the time occupied in passing from one sign to another.) at the earlier period the summer solstice was in the centre of leo, the autumnal equinox in the centre of scorpio, and the winter solstice in the centre of aquarius--corresponding roughly, mr. maunder points out, to the positions of the four "royal stars," aldebaran, regulus, antares and fomalhaut. the sacrifice of the bull became the image of redemption. in a certain well-known mithra-sculpture or group, the sungod is represented as plunging his dagger into a bull, while a scorpion, a serpent, and other animals are sucking the latter's blood. from one point of view this may be taken as symbolic of the sun fertilizing the gross earth by plunging his rays into it and so drawing forth its blood for the sustenance of all creatures; while from another more astronomical aspect it symbolizes the conquest of the sun over winter in the moment of "passing over" the sign of the bull, and the depletion of the generative power of the bull by the scorpion--which of course is the autumnal sign of the zodiac and herald of winter. one such mithraic group was found at ostia, where there was a large subterranean temple "to the invincible god mithras." in the worship of attis there were (as i have already indicated) many points of resemblance to the christian cult. on the nd march (the vernal equinox) a pinetree was cut in the woods and brought into the temple of cybele. it was treated almost as a divinity, was decked with violets, and the effigy of a young man tied to the stem (cf. the crucifixion). the th was called the "day of blood"; the high priest first drew blood from his own arms; and then the others gashed and slashed themselves, and spattered the altar and the sacred tree with blood; while novices made themselves eunuchs "for the kingdom of heaven's sake." the effigy was afterwards laid in a tomb. but when night fell, says dr. frazer, ( ) sorrow was turned to joy. a light was brought, and the tomb was found to be empty. the next day, the th, was the festival of the resurrection; and ended in carnival and license (the hilaria). further, says dr. frazer, these mysteries "seem to have included a sacramental meal and a baptism of blood." ( ) see adonis, attis and osiris, part iv of the golden bough, by j. g. frazer, p. . "in the baptism the devotee, crowned with gold and wreathed with fillets, descended into a pit, the mouth of which was covered with a wooden grating. a bull, adorned with garlands of flowers, its forehead glittering with gold leaf, was then driven on to the grating and there stabbed to death with a consecrated spear. its hot reeking blood poured in torrents through the apertures, and was received with devout eagerness by the worshiper on every part of his person and garments, till he emerged from the pit, drenched, dripping, and scarlet from head to foot, to receive the homage, nay the adoration, of his fellows--as one who had been born again to eternal life and had washed away his sins in the blood of the bull." ( ) and frazer continuing says: "that the bath of blood derived from slaughter of the bull (tauro-bolium) was believed to regenerate the devotee for eternity is proved by an inscription found at rome, which records that a certain sextilius agesilaus aedesius, who dedicated an altar to attis and the mother of the gods (cybele) was taurobolio criobolio que in aeternum renatus." ( ) "in the procedure of the taurobolia and criobolia," says mr. j. m. robertson, ( ) "which grew very popular in the roman world, we have the literal and original meaning of the phrase 'washed in the blood of the lamb' ( ); the doctrine being that resurrection and eternal life were secured by drenching or sprinkling with the actual blood of a sacrificial bull or ram." ( ) for the popularity of the rite we may quote franz cumont, who says:--"cette douche sacree (taurobolium) pareit avoir ete administree en cappadoce dans un grand nombre de sanctuaires, et en particulier dans ceux de ma la grande divinite indigene, et dans ceux: de anahita." ( ) see vol. i, pp. ff. ( ) adonis, attis and osiris, p. . references to prudentius, and to firmicus maternus, de errore . . ( ) that is, "by the slaughter of the bull and the slaughter of the ram born again into eternity." ( ) pagan christs, p. . ( ) mysteres de mithra, bruxelles, , p. . whether mr. robertson is right in ascribing to the priests (as he appears to do) so materialistic a view of the potency of the actual blood is, i should say, doubtful. i do not myself see that there is any reason for supposing that the priests of mithra or attis regarded baptism by blood very differently from the way in which the christian church has generally regarded baptism by water--namely, as a symbol of some inner regeneration. there may certainly have been a little more of the magical view and a little less of the symbolic, in the older religions; but the difference was probably on the whole more one of degree than of essential disparity. but however that may be, we cannot but be struck by the extraordinary analogy between the tombstone inscriptions of that period "born again into eternity by the blood of the bull or the ram," and the corresponding texts in our graveyards to-day. f. cumont in his elaborate work, textes et monuments relatifs aux mysteres de mithra ( vols., brussels, ) gives a great number of texts and epitaphs of the same character as that above-quoted, and they are well worth studying by those interested in the subject. cumont, it may be noted (vol. i, p. ), thinks that the story of mithra and the slaying of the bull must have originated among some pastoral people to whom the bull was the source of all life. the bull in heaven--the symbol of the triumphant sungod--and the earthly bull, sacrificed for the good of humanity were one and the same; the god, in fact, sacrificed himself or his representative. and mithra was the hero who first won this conception of divinity for mankind--though of course it is in essence quite similar to the conception put forward by the christian church. as illustrating the belief that the baptism by blood was accompanied by a real regeneration of the devotee, frazer quotes an ancient writer ( ) who says that for some time after the ceremony the fiction of a new birth was kept up by dieting the devotee on milk, like a new-born babe. and it is interesting in that connection to find that even in the present day a diet of absolutely nothing but milk for six or eight weeks is by many doctors recommended as the only means of getting rid of deep-seated illnesses and enabling a patient's organism to make a completely new start in life. ( ) sallustius philosophus. see adonis, attis and osiris, note, p. . "at rome," he further says (p. ), "the new birth and the remission of sins by the shedding of bull's blood appear to have been carried out above all at the sanctuary of the phrygian goddess (cybele) on the vatican hill, at or near the spot where the great basilica of st. peter's now stands; for many inscriptions relating to the rites were found when the church was being enlarged in or . from the vatican as a centre," he continues, "this barbarous system of superstition seems to have spread to other parts of the roman empire. inscriptions found in gaul and germany prove that provincial sanctuaries modelled their ritual on that of the vatican." it would appear then that at rome in the quiet early days of the christian church, the rites and ceremonials of mithra and cybele, probably much intermingled and blended, were exceedingly popular. both religions had been recognized by the roman state, and the christians, persecuted and despised as they were, found it hard to make any headway against them--the more so perhaps because the christian doctrines appeared in many respects to be merely faint replicas and copies of the older creeds. robertson maintains ( ) that a he-lamb was sacrificed in the mithraic mysteries, and he quotes porphyry as saying ( ) that "a place near the equinoctial circle was assigned to mithra as an appropriate seat; and on this account he bears the sword of the ram (aries) which is a sign of mars (ares)." similarly among the early christians, it is said, a ram or lamb was sacrificed in the paschal mystery. ( ) pagan christs, p. . ( ) de antro, xxiv. many people think that the association of the lamb-god with the cross arose from the fact that the constellation aries at that time was on the heavenly cross (the crossways of the ecliptic and equator-see diagram, ch. iii), and in the very place through which the sungod had to pass just before his final triumph. and it is curious to find that justin martyr in his dialogue with trypho ( ) (a jew) alludes to an old jewish practice of roasting a lamb on spits arranged in the form of a cross. "the lamb," he says, meaning apparently the paschal lamb, "is roasted and dressed up in the form of a cross. for one spit is transfixed right through the lower parts up to the head, and one across the back, to which are attached the legs (forelegs) of the lamb." ( ) ch. xl. to-day in morocco at the festival of eid-el-kebir, corresponding to the christian easter, the mohammedans sacrifice a young ram and hurry it still bleeding to the precincts of the mosque, while at the same time every household slays a lamb, as in the biblical institution, for its family feast. but it will perhaps be said, "you are going too fast and proving too much. in the anxiety to show that the lamb-god and the sacrifice of the lamb were honored by the devotees of mithra and cybele in the rome of the christian era, you are forgetting that the sacrifice of the bull and the baptism in bull's blood were the salient features of the persian and phrygian ceremonials, some centuries earlier. how can you reconcile the existence side by side of divinities belonging to such different periods, or ascribe them both to an astronomical origin?" the answer is simple enough. as i have explained before, the precession of the equinoxes caused the sun, at its moment of triumph over the powers of darkness, to stand at one period in the constellation of the bull, and at a period some two thousand years later in the constellation of the ram. it was perfectly natural therefore that a change in the sacred symbols should, in the course of time, take place; yet perfectly natural also that these symbols, having once been consecrated and adopted, should continue to be honored and clung to long after the time of their astronomical appropriateness had passed, and so to be found side by side in later centuries. the devotee of mithra or attis on the vatican hill at rome in the year a.d. probably had as little notion or comprehension of the real origin of the sacred bull or ram which he adored, as the christian in st. peter's to-day has of the origin of the lamb-god whose vicegerent on earth is the pope. it is indeed easy to imagine that the change from the worship of the bull to the worship of the lamb which undoubtedly took place among various peoples as time went on, was only a ritual change initiated by the priests in order to put on record and harmonize with the astronomical alteration. anyhow it is curious that while mithra in the early times was specially associated with the bull, his association with the lamb belonged more to the roman period. somewhat the same happened in the case of attis. in the bible we read of the indignation of moses at the setting up by the israelites of a golden calf, after the sacrifice of the ram-lamb had been instituted--as if indeed the rebellious people were returning to the earlier cult of apis which they ought to have left behind them in egypt. in egypt itself, too, we find the worship of apis, as time went on, yielding place to that of the ram-headed god amun, or jupiter ammon. ( ) so that both from the bible and from egyptian history we may conclude that the worship of the lamb or ram succeeded to the worship of the bull. ( ) tacitus (hist. v. ) speaks of ram-sacrifice by the jews in honor of jupiter ammon. see also herodotus (ii. ) on the same in egypt. finally it has been pointed out, and there may be some real connection in the coincidence, that in the quite early years of christianity the fish came in as an accepted symbol of jesus christ. considering that after the domination of taurus and aries, the fish (pisces) comes next in succession as the zodiacal sign for the vernal equinox, and is now the constellation in which the sun stands at that period, it seems not impossible that the astronomical change has been the cause of the adoption of this new symbol. anyhow, and allowing for possible errors or exaggerations, it becomes clear that the travels of the sun through the belt of constellations which forms the zodiac must have had, from earliest times, a profound influence on the generation of religious myths and legends. to say that it was the only influence would certainly be a mistake. other causes undoubtedly contributed. but it was a main and important influence. the origins of the zodiac are obscure; we do not know with any certainty the reasons why the various names were given to its component sections, nor can we measure the exact antiquity of these names; but--pre-supposing the names of the signs as once given--it is not difficult to imagine the growth of legends connected with the sun's course among them. of all the ancient divinities perhaps hercules is the one whose role as a sungod is most generally admitted. the helper of gods and men, a mighty traveller, and invoked everywhere as the saviour, his labors for the good of the world became ultimately defined and systematized as twelve and corresponding in number to the signs of the zodiac. it is true that this systematization only took place at a late period, probably in alexandria; also that the identification of some of the labors with the actual signs as we have them at present is not always clear. but considering the wide prevalence of the hercules myth over the ancient world and the very various astronomical systems it must have been connected with in its origin, this lack of exact correspondence is hardly to be wondered at. the labors of hercules which chiefly interest us are: ( ) the capture of the bull, ( ) the slaughter of the lion, ( ) the destruction of the hydra, ( ) of the boar, ( ) the cleansing of the stables of augeas, ( ) the descent into hades and the taming of cerberus. the first of these is in line with the mithraic conquest of the bull; the lion is of course one of the most prominent constellations of the zodiac, and its conquest is obviously the work of a saviour of mankind; while the last four labors connect themselves very naturally with the solar conflict in winter against the powers of darkness. the boar ( ) we have seen already as the image of typhon, the prince of darkness; the hydra ( ) was said to be the offspring of typhon; the descent into hades ( )--generally associated with hercules' struggle with and victory over death--links on to the descent of the sun into the underworld, and its long and doubtful strife with the forces of winter; and the cleansing of the stables of augeas ( ) has the same signification. it appears in fact that the stables of augeas was another name for the sign of capricorn through which the sun passes at the winter solstice ( )--the stable of course being an underground chamber--and the myth was that there, in this lowest tract and backwater of the ecliptic all the malarious and evil influences of the sky were collected, and the sungod came to wash them away (december was the height of the rainy season in judaea) and cleanse the year towards its rebirth. ( ) see diagram of zodiac. it should not be forgotten too that even as a child in the cradle hercules slew two serpents sent for his destruction--the serpent and the scorpion as autumnal constellations figuring always as enemies of the sungod--to which may be compared the power given to his disciples by jesus ( ) "to tread on serpents and scorpions." hercules also as a sungod compares curiously with samson (mentioned above, ii), but we need not dwell on all the elaborate analogies that have been traced ( ) between these two heroes. ( ) luke x. . ( ) see doane's bible myths, ch. viii, (new york, .) the jesus-story, it will now be seen, has a great number of correspondences with the stories of former sungods and with the actual career of the sun through the heavens--so many indeed that they cannot well be attributed to mere coincidence or even to the blasphemous wiles of the devil! let us enumerate some of these. there are ( ) the birth from a virgin mother; ( ) the birth in a stable (cave or underground chamber); and ( ) on the th december (just after the winter solstice). there is ( ) the star in the east (sirius) and ( ) the arrival of the magi (the "three kings"); there is ( ) the threatened massacre of the innocents, and the consequent flight into a distant country (told also of krishna and other sungods). there are the church festivals of ( ) candlemas ( nd february), with processions of candles to symbolize the growing light; of ( ) lent, or the arrival of spring; of ( ) easter day (normally on the th march) to celebrate the crossing of the equator by the sun; and ( ) simultaneously the outburst of lights at the holy sepulchre at jerusalem. there is ( ) the crucifixion and death of the lamb-god, on good friday, three days before easter; there are ( ) the nailing to a tree, ( ) the empty grave, ( ) the glad resurrection (as in the cases of osiris, attis and others); there are ( ) the twelve disciples (the zodiacal signs); and ( ) the betrayal by one of the twelve. then later there is ( ) midsummer day, the th june, dedicated to the nativity of john the baptist, and corresponding to christmas day; there are the festivals of ( ) the assumption of the virgin ( th august) and of ( ) the nativity of the virgin ( th september), corresponding to the movement of the god through virgo; there is the conflict of christ and his disciples with the autumnal asterisms, ( ) the serpent and the scorpion; and finally there is the curious fact that the church ( ) dedicates the very day of the winter solstice (when any one may very naturally doubt the rebirth of the sun) to st. thomas, who doubted the truth of the resurrection! these are some of, and by no means all, the coincidences in question. but they are sufficient, i think, to prove--even allowing for possible margins of error--the truth of our general contention. to go into the parallelism of the careers of krishna, the indian sungod, and jesus would take too long; because indeed the correspondence is so extraordinarily close and elaborate. ( ) i propose, however, at the close of this chapter, to dwell now for a moment on the christian festival of the eucharist, partly on account of its connection with the derivation from the astronomical rites and nature-celebrations already alluded to, and partly on account of the light which the festival generally, whether christian or pagan, throws on the origins of religious magic--a subject i shall have to deal with in the next chapter. ( ) see robertson's christianity and mythology, part ii, pp. - ; also doane's bible myths, ch. xxviii, p. . i have already (ch. ii) mentioned the eucharistic rite held in commemoration of mithra, and the indignant ascription of this by justin martyr to the wiles of the devil. justin martyr clearly had no doubt about the resemblance of the mithraic to the christian ceremony. a sacramental meal, as mentioned a few pages back, seems to have been held by the worshipers of attis ( ) in commemoration of their god; and the 'mysteries' of the pagan cults generally appear to have included rites--sometimes half-savage, sometimes more aesthetic--in which a dismembered animal was eaten, or bread and wine (the spirits of the corn and the vine) were consumed, as representing the body of the god whom his devotees desired to honor. but the best example of this practice is afforded by the rites of dionysus, to which i will devote a few lines. dionysus, like other sun or nature deities, was born of a virgin (semele or demeter) untainted by any earthly husband; and born on the th. december. he was nurtured in a cave, and even at that early age was identified with the ram or lamb, into whose form he was for the time being changed. at times also he was worshiped in the form of a bull. ( ) he travelled far and wide; and brought the great gift of wine to mankind. ( ) he was called liberator, and saviour. his grave "was shown at delphi in the inmost shrine of the temple of apollo. secret offerings were brought thither, while the women who were celebrating the feast woke up the new-born god.... festivals of this kind in celebration of the extinction and resurrection of the deity were held (by women and girls only) amid the mountains at night, every third year, about the time of the shortest day. the rites, intended to express the excess of grief and joy at the death and reappearance of the god, were wild even to savagery, and the women who performed them were hence known by the expressive names of bacchae, maenads, and thyiades. they wandered through woods and mountains, their flying locks crowned with ivy or snakes, brandishing wands and torches, to the hollow sounds of the drum, or the shrill notes of the flute, with wild dances and insane cries and jubilation." ( ) see frazer's golden bough, part iv, p. . ( ) the golden bough, part ii, book ii, p. . ( ) "i am the true vine," says the jesus of the fourth gospel, perhaps with an implicit and hostile reference to the cult of dionysus--in which robertson suggests (christianity and mythology, p. ) there was a ritual miracle of turning water into wine. oxen, goats, even fawns and roes from the forest were killed, torn to pieces, and eaten raw. this in imitation of the treatment of dionysus by the titans, ( )--who it was supposed had torn the god in pieces when a child. ( ) see art. dionysus. dictionary of classical antiquities, nettleship and sandys rd edn., london, ). dupuis, one of the earliest writers (at the beginning of last century) on this subject, says, describing the mystic rites of dionysus ( ): "the sacred doors of the temple in which the initiation took place were opened only once a year, and no stranger might ever enter. night lent to these august mysteries a veil which was forbidden to be drawn aside--for whoever it might be. ( ) it was the sole occasion for the representation of the passion of bacchus (dionysus) dead, descended into hell, and rearisen--in imitation of the representation of the sufferings of osiris which, according to herodotus, were commemorated at sais in egypt. it was in that place that the partition took place of the body of the god, ( ) which was then eaten--the ceremony, in fact, of which our eucharist is only a reflection; whereas in the mysteries of bacchus actual raw flesh was distributed, which each of those present had to consume in commemoration of the death of bacchus dismembered by the titans, and whose passion, in chios and tenedos, was renewed each year by the sacrifice of a man who represented the god. ( ) possibly it is this last fact which made people believe that the christians (whose hoc est corpus meum and sharing of an eucharistic meal were no more than a shadow of a more ancient rite) did really sacrifice a child and devour its limbs." ( ) see charles f. dupuis, "traite des mysteres," ch. i. ( ) pausan, corinth, ch. . ( ) clem, prot. eur. bacch. ( ) see porphyry, de abstinentia, lii, section . that eucharistic rites were very very ancient is plain from the totem-sacraments of savages; and to this subject we shall now turn. iv. totem-sacraments and eucharists much has been written on the origin of the totem-system--the system, that is, of naming a tribe or a portion of a tribe (say a clan) after some animal--or sometimes--also after some plant or tree or nature-element, like fire or rain or thunder; but at best the subject is a difficult one for us moderns to understand. a careful study has been made of it by salamon reinach in his cultes, mythes et religions, ( ) where he formulates his conclusions in twelve statements or definitions; but even so--though his suggestions are helpful--he throws very little light on the real origin of the system. ( ) ( ) see english translation of certain chapters (published by david nutt in ) entitled cults, myths and religions, pp. - . the french original is in three large volumes. ( ) the same may be said of the formulated statement of the subject in morris jastrow's handbooks of the history of religion, vol. iv. there are three main difficulties. the first is to understand why primitive man should name his tribe after an animal or object of nature at all; the second, to understand on what principle he selected the particular name (a lion, a crocodile, a lady bird, a certain tree); the third, why he should make of the said totem a divinity, and pay honor and worship to it. it may be worth while to pause for a moment over these. ( ) the fact that the tribe was one of the early things for which man found it necessary to have a name is interesting, because it shows how early the solidarity and psychological actuality of the tribe was recognized; and as to the selection of a name from some animal or concrete object of nature, that was inevitable, for the simple reason that there was nothing else for the savage to choose from. plainly to call his tribe "the wayfarers" or "the pioneers" or the "pacifists" or the "invincibles," or by any of the thousand and one names which modern associations adopt, would have been impossible, since such abstract terms had little or no existence in his mind. and again to name it after an animal was the most obvious thing to do, simply because the animals were by far the most important features or accompaniments of his own life. as i am dealing in this book largely with certain psychological conditions of human evolution, it has to be pointed out that to primitive man the animal was the nearest and most closely related of all objects. being of the same order of consciousness as himself, the animal appealed to him very closely as his mate and equal. he made with regard to it little or no distinction from himself. we see this very clearly in the case of children, who of course represent the savage mind, and who regard animals simply as their mates and equals, and come quickly into rapport with them, not differentiating themselves from them. ( ) as to the particular animal or other object selected in order to give a name to the tribe, this would no doubt be largely accidental. any unusual incident might superstitiously precipitate a name. we can hardly imagine the tribe scratching its congregated head in the deliberate effort to think out a suitable emblem for itself. that is not the way in which nicknames are invented in a school or anywhere else to-day. at the same time the heraldic appeal of a certain object of nature, animate or inanimate, would be deeply and widely felt. the strength of the lion, the fleetness of the deer, the food-value of a bear, the flight of a bird, the awful jaws of a crocodile, might easily mesmerize a whole tribe. reinach points out, with great justice, that many tribes placed themselves under the protection of animals which were supposed (rightly or wrongly) to act as guides and augurs, foretelling the future. "diodorus," he says, "distinctly states that the hawk, in egypt, was venerated because it foretold the future." (birds generally act as and samoa the kangaroo, the crow and the owl premonish their fellow clansmen of events to come. at one time the samoan warriors went so far as to rear owls for their prophetic qualities in war. (the jackal, or 'pathfinder'--whose tracks sometimes lead to the remains of a food-animal slain by a lion, and many birds and insects, have a value of this kind.) "the use of animal totems for purposes of augury is, in all likelihood, of great antiquity. men must soon have realized that the senses of animals were acuter than their own; nor is it surprising that they should have expected their totems--that is to say, their natural allies--to forewarn them both of unsuspected dangers and of those provisions of nature, wells especially, which animals seem to scent by instinct." ( ) and again, beyond all this, i have little doubt that there are subconscious affinities which unite certain tribes to certain animals or plants, affinities whose origin we cannot now trace, though they are very real--the same affinities that we recognize as existing between individual persons and certain objects of nature. w. h. hudson--himself in many respects having this deep and primitive relation to nature--speaks in a very interesting and autobiographical volume ( ) of the extraordinary fascination exercised upon him as a boy, not only by a snake, but by certain trees, and especially by a particular flowering-plant "not more than a foot in height, with downy soft pale green leaves, and clusters of reddish blossoms, something like valerian." ... "one of my sacred flowers," he calls it, and insists on the "inexplicable attraction" which it had for him. in various ways of this kind one can perceive how particular totems came to be selected by particular peoples. ( ) see reinach, eng. trans., op. cit., pp. , . ( ) far away and long ago ( ) chs. xvi and xvii. ( ) as to the tendency to divinize these totems, this arises no doubt partly out of question ( ). the animal or other object admired on account of its strength or swiftness, or adopted as guardian of the tribe because of its keen sight or prophetic quality, or infinitely prized on account of its food-value, or felt for any other reason to have a peculiar relation and affinity to the tribe, is by that fact set apart. it becomes taboo. it must not be killed--except under necessity and by sanction of the whole tribe--nor injured; and all dealings with it must be fenced round with regulations. it is out of this taboo or system of taboos that, according to reinach, religion arose. "i propose (he says) to define religion as: a sum of scruples (taboos) which impede the free exercise of our faculties." ( ) obviously this definition is gravely deficient, simply because it is purely negative, and leaves out of account the positive aspect of the subject. in man, the positive content of religion is the instinctive sense--whether conscious or subconscious--of an inner unity and continuity with the world around. this is the stuff out of which religion is made. the scruples or taboos which "impede the freedom" of this relation are the negative forces which give outline and form to the relation. these are the things which generate the rites and ceremonials of religion; and as far as reinach means by religion merely rites and ceremonies he is correct; but clearly he only covers half the subject. the tendency to divinize the totem is at least as much dependent on the positive sense of unity with it, as on the negative scruples which limit the relation in each particular case. but i shall return to this subject presently, and more than once, with the view of clarifying it. just now it will be best to illustrate the nature of totems generally, and in some detail. ( ) see orpheus by s. reinach, p. . as would be gathered from what i have just said, there is found among all the more primitive peoples, and in all parts of the world, an immense variety of totem-names. the dinkas, for instance, are a rather intelligent well-grown people inhabiting the upper reaches of the nile in the vicinity of the great swamps. according to dr. seligman their clans have for totems the lion, the elephant, the crocodile, the hippopotamus, the fox, and the hyena, as well as certain birds which infest and damage the corn, some plants and trees, and such things as rain, fire, etc. "each clan speaks of its totem as its ancestor, and refrains (as a rule) from injuring or eating it." ( ) the members of the crocodile clan call themselves "brothers of the crocodile." the tribes of bechuana-land have a very similar list of totem-names--the buffalo, the fish, the porcupine, the wild vine, etc. they too have a crocodile clan, but they call the crocodile their father! the tribes of australia much the same again, with the differences suitable to their country; and the red indians of north america the same. garcilasso, della vega, the spanish historian, son of an inca princess by one of the spanish conquerors of peru and author of the well-known book commentarias reales, says in that book (i, ), speaking of the pre-inca period, "an indian (of peru) was not considered honorable unless he was descended from a fountain, river or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey." ( ) according to lewis morgan, the north american indians of various tribes had for totems the wolf, bear, beaver, turtle, deer, snipe, heron, hawk, crane, loon, turkey, muskrat; pike, catfish, carp; buffalo, elk, reindeer, eagle, hare, rabbit, snake; reed-grass, sand, rock, and tobacco-plant. ( ) see the golden bough, vol. iv, p. . ( ) see andrew lang, custom and myth, p. , also myth, ritual and religion, vol. i, pp. , , etc. so we might go on rather indefinitely. i need hardly say that in more modern and civilized life, relics of the totem system are still to be found in the forms of the heraldic creatures adopted for their crests by different families, and in the bears, lions, eagles, the sun, moon and stars and so forth, which still adorn the flags and are flaunted as the insignia of the various nations. the names may not have been originally adopted from any definite belief in blood-relationship with the animal or other object in question; but when, as robertson says (pagan christs, p. ), a "savage learned that he was 'a bear' and that his father and grandfather and forefathers were so before him, it was really impossible, after ages in which totem-names thus passed current, that he should fail to assume that his folk were descended from a bear." as a rule, as may be imagined, the savage tribesman will on no account eat his tribal totem-animal. such would naturally be deemed a kind of sacrilege. also it must be remarked that some totems are hardly suitable for eating. yet it is important to observe that occasionally, and guarding the ceremony with great precautions, it has been an almost universal custom for the tribal elders to call a feast at which an animal (either the totem or some other) is killed and commonly eaten--and this in order that the tribesmen may absorb some virtue belonging to it, and may confirm their identity with the tribe and with each other. the eating of the bear or other animal, the sprinkling with its blood, and the general ritual in which the participants shared its flesh, or dressed and disguised themselves in its skin, or otherwise identified themselves with it, was to them a symbol of their community of life with each other, and a means of their renewal and salvation in the holy emblem. and this custom, as the reader will perceive, became the origin of the eucharists and holy communions of the later religions. professor robertson-smith's celebrated camel affords an instance of this. ( ) it appears that st. nilus (fifth century) has left a detailed account of the occasional sacrifice in his time of a spotless white camel among the arabs of the sinai region, which closely resembles a totemic communion-feast. the uncooked blood and flesh of the animal had to be entirely consumed by the faithful before daybreak. "the slaughter of the victim, the sacramental drinking of the blood, and devouring in wild haste of the pieces of still quivering flesh, recall the details of the dionysiac and other festivals." ( ) robertson-smith himself says:--"the plain meaning is that the victim was devoured before its life had left the still warm blood and flesh... and that thus in the most literal way, all those who shared in the ceremony absorbed part of the victim's life into themselves. one sees how much more forcibly than any ordinary meal such a rite expresses the establishment or confirmation of a bond of common life between the worshipers, and also, since the blood is shed upon the altar itself, between the worshipers and their god. in this sacrifice, then, the significant factors are two: the conveyance of the living blood to the godhead, and the absorption of the living flesh and blood into the flesh and blood of the worshippers. each of these is effected in the simplest and most direct manner, so that the meaning of the ritual is perfectly transparent." ( ) see his religion of the semites, p. . ( ) they also recall the rites of the passover--though in this latter the blood was no longer drunk, nor the flesh eaten raw. it seems strange, of course, that men should eat their totems; and it must not by any means be supposed that this practice is (or was) universal; but it undoubtedly obtains in some cases. as miss harrison says (themis, p. ); "you do not as a rule eat your relations," and as a rule the eating of a totem is tabu and forbidden, but (miss harrison continues) "at certain times and under certain restrictions a man not only may, but must, eat of his totem, though only sparingly, as of a thing sacrosanct." the ceremonial carried out in a communal way by the tribe not only identifies the tribe with the totem (animal), but is held, according to early magical ideas, and when the animal is desired for food, to favor its manipulation. the human tribe partakes of the mana or life-force of the animal, and is strengthened; the animal tribe is sympathetically renewed by the ceremonial and multiplies exceedingly. the slaughter of the sacred animal and (often) the simultaneous outpouring of human blood seals the compact and confirms the magic. this is well illustrated by a ceremony of the 'emu' tribe referred to by dr. frazer:-- "in order to multiply emus which are an important article of food, the men of the emu totem in the arunta tribe proceed as follows: they clear a small spot of level ground, and opening veins in their arms they let the blood stream out until the surface of the ground for a space of about three square yards is soaked with it. when the blood has dried and caked, it forms a hard and fairly impermeable surface, on which they paint the sacred design of the emu totem, especially the parts of the bird which they like best to eat, namely, the fat and the eggs. round this painting the men sit and sing. afterwards performers wearing long head-dresses to represent the long neck and small head of the emu, mimic the appearance of the bird as it stands aimlessly peering about in all directions." ( ) ( ) the golden bough i, --with reference to spencer and gillen's native tribes of central australia, pp. , . thus blood sacrifice comes in; and--(whether this has ever actually happened in the case of the central australians i know not)--we can easily imagine a member of the emu tribe, and disguised as an actual emu, having been ceremonially slaughtered as a firstfruits and promise of the expected and prayed-for emu-crop; just as the same certainly has happened in the case of men wearing beast-masks of bulls or rams or bears being sacrificed in propitiation of bull-gods, ram-gods or bear-gods or simply in pursuance of some kind of magic to favor the multiplication of these food-animals. "in the light of totemistic ways of thinking we see plainly enough the relation of man to food-animals. you need or at least desire flesh food, yet you shrink from slaughtering 'your brother the ox'; you desire his mana, yet you respect his tabu, for in you and him alike runs the common life-blood. on your own individual responsibility you would never kill him; but for the common weal, on great occasions, and in a fashion conducted with scrupulous care, it is expedient that he die for his people, and that they feast upon his flesh." ( ) ( ) themis, p. . in her little book ancient art and ritual ( ) jane harrison describes the dedication of a holy bull, as conducted in greece at elis, and at magnesia and other cities. "there at the annual fair year by year the stewards of the city bought a bull 'the finest that could be got,' and at the new moon of the month at the beginning of seed-time (? april) bull was led in procession at the head of which went the chief priest and priestess of the city. with them went a herald and sacrificer, and two bands of youths and maidens. so holy was the bull that nothing unlucky might come near him. the herald pronounced aloud a prayer for 'the safety of the city and the land, and the citizens, and the women and children, for peace and wealth, and for the bringing forth of grain and all other fruits, and of cattle.' all this longing for fertility, for food and children, focuses round the holy bull, whose holiness is his strength and fruitfulness." the bull is sacrificed. the flesh is divided in solemn feast among those who take part in the procession. "the holy flesh is not offered to a god, it is eaten--to every man his portion--by each and every citizen, that he may get his share of the strength of the bull, of the luck of the state." but at athens the bouphonia, as it was called, was followed by a curious ceremony. "the hide was stuffed with straw and sewed up, and next the stuffed animal was set on its feet and yoked to a plough as though it were ploughing. the death is followed by a resurrection. now this is all important. we are accustomed to think of sacrifice as the death, the giving up, the renouncing of something. but sacrifice does not mean 'death' at all. it means making holy, sanctifying; and holiness was to primitive man just special strength and life. what they wanted from the bull was just that special life and strength which all the year long they had put into him, and nourished and fostered. that life was in his blood. they could not eat that flesh nor drink that blood unless they killed him. so he must die. but it was not to give him up to the gods that they killed him, not to 'sacrifice' him in our sense, but to have him, keep him, eat him, live by him and through him, by his grace." ( ) home university library, p. . we have already had to deal with instances of the ceremonial eating of the sacred he-lamb or ram, immolated in the spring season of the year, and partaken of in a kind of communal feast--not without reference (at any rate in later times) to a supposed lamb-god. among the ainos in the north of japan, as also among the gilyaks in eastern siberia, the bear is the great food-animal, and is worshipped as the supreme giver of health and strength. there also a similar ritual of sacrifice occurs. a perfect bear is caught and caged. he is fed up and even pampered to the day of his death. "fish, brandy and other delicacies are offered to him. some of the people prostrate themselves before him; his coming into a house brings a blessing, and if he sniffs at the food that brings a blessing too." then he is led out and slain. a great feast takes place, the flesh is divided, cupfuls of the blood are drunk by the men; the tribe is united and strengthened, and the bear-god blesses the ceremony--the ideal bear that has given its life for the people. ( ) ( ) see art and ritual, pp. - ; the golden bough, ii, seq.; themis, pp. , ; etc. that the eating of the flesh of an animal or a man conveys to you some of the qualities, the life-force, the mana, of that animal or man, is an idea which one often meets with among primitive folk. hence the common tendency to eat enemy warriors slain in battle against your tribe. by doing so you absorb some of their valor and strength. even the enemy scalps which an apache indian might hang from his belt were something magical to add to the apache's power. as gilbert murray says, ( ) "you devoured the holy animal to get its mana, its swiftness, its strength, its great endurance, just as the savage now will eat his enemy's brain or heart or hands to get some particular quality residing there." even--as he explains on the earlier page--mere contact was often considered sufficient--"we have holy pillars whose holiness consists in the fact that they have been touched by the blood of a bull." and in this connection we may note that nearly all the christian churches have a great belief in the virtue imparted by the mere 'laying on of hands.' ( ) four stages of greek religion, p. . in quite a different connection--we read ( ) that among the spartans a warrior-boy would often beg for the love of the elder warrior whom he admired (i. e. the contact with his body) in order to obtain in that way a portion of the latter's courage and prowess. that through the mediation of the lips one's spirit may be united to the spirit of another person is an idea not unfamiliar to the modern mind; while the exchange of blood, clothes, locks of hair, etc., by lovers is a custom known all over the world. ( ) ( ) aelian vii, iii, : [gr autoi goun (oi paides) deontai twn erastwn] [gr eispnein autois]. see also e. bethe on "die dorische knabenliebe" in the rheinisches museum, vol. , iii, . ( ) see crawley's mystic rose, pp. , . to suppose that by eating another you absorb his or her soul is somewhat naive certainly. perhaps it is more native, more primitive. yet there may be some truth even in that idea. certainly the food that one eats has a psychological effect, and the flesh-eaters among the human race have a different temperament as a rule from the fruit and vegetable eaters, while among the animals (though other causes may come in here) the carnivora are decidedly more cruel and less gentle than the herbivora. to return to the rites of dionysus, gilbert murray, speaking of orphism--a great wave of religious reform which swept over greece and south italy in the sixth century b.c.--says: ( ) "a curious relic of primitive superstition and cruelty remained firmly imbedded in orphism, a doctrine irrational and unintelligible, and for that very reason wrapped in the deepest and most sacred mystery: a belief in the sacrifice of dionysus himself, and the purification of man by his blood. it seems possible that the savage thracians, in the fury of their worship on the mountains, when they were possessed by the god and became 'wild beasts,' actually tore with their teeth and hands any hares, goats, fawns or the like that they came across.... the orphic congregations of later times, in their most holy gatherings, solemnly partook of the blood of a bull, which was by a mystery the blood of dionysus-zagreus himself, the bull of god, slain in sacrifice for the purification of man." ( ) ( ) see notes to his translation of the bacch[ae] of euripides. ( ) for a description of this orgy see theocritus, idyll xxvi; also for explanations of it, lang's myth, ritual and religion, vol. ii, pp, - , on dionysus. the encyclop[ae]dia brit., article "orpheus," says:--"orpheus, in the manner of his death, was considered to personate the god dionysus, and was thus representative of the god torn to pieces every year--a ceremony enacted by the bacchae in the earliest times with a human victim, and afterwards with a bull, to represent the bull-formed god. a distinct feature of this ritual was [gr wmofagia] (eating the flesh of the victim raw), whereby the communicants imagined that they consumed and assimilated the god represented by the victim, and thus became filled with the divine ecstasy." compare also the hindu doctrine of praj[pati, the dismembered lord of creation. such instances of early communal feasts, which fulfilled the double part of confirming on the one hand the solidarity of the tribe, and on the other of bringing the tribe, by the shedding of the blood of a divine victim into close relationship with the very source of its life, are plentiful to find. "the sacramental rite," says professor robertson-smith, ( ) "is also an atoning rite, which brings the community again into harmony with its alienated god--atonement being simply an act of communion designed to wipe out all memory of previous estrangement." with this subject i shall deal more specially in chapter vii below. meanwhile as instances of early eucharists we may mention the following cases, remembering always that as the blood is regarded as the life, the drinking or partaking of, or sprinkling with, blood is always an acknowledgment of the common life; and that the juice of the grape being regarded as the blood of the vine, wine in the later ceremonials quite easily and naturally takes the place of the blood in the early sacrifices. ( ) religion of the semites, p. . thus p. andrada la crozius, a french missionary, and one of the first christians who went to nepaul and thibet, says in his history of india: "their grand lama celebrates a species of sacrifice with bread and wine, in which, after taking a small quantity himself, he distributes the rest among the lamas present at this ceremony." ( ) "the old egyptians celebrated the resurrection of osiris by a sacrament, eating the sacred cake or wafer after it had been consecrated by the priest, and thereby becoming veritable flesh of his flesh." ( ) as is well known, the eating of bread or dough sacramentally (sometimes mixed with blood or seed) as an emblem of community of life with the divinity, is an extremely ancient practice or ritual. dr. frazer ( ) says of the aztecs, that "twice a year, in may and december, an image of the great god huitzilopochtli was made of dough, then broken in pieces and solemnly eaten by his worshipers." and lord kingsborough in his mexican antiquities (vol. vi, p. ) gives a record of a "most holy supper" in which these people ate the flesh of their god. it was a cake made of certain seeds, "and having made it, they blessed it in their manner, and broke it into pieces, which the high priest put into certain very clean vessels, and took a thorn of maguey which resembles a very thick needle, with which he took up with the utmost reverence single morsels, which he put into the mouth of each individual in the manner of a communion." acostas ( ) confirms this and similar accounts. the peruvians partook of a sacrament consisting of a pudding of coarsely ground maize, of which a portion had been smeared on the idol. the priest sprinkled it with the blood of the victim before distributing it to the people. priest and people then all took their shares in turn, "with great care that no particle should be allowed to fall to the ground--this being looked upon as a great sin." ( ) ( ) see doane's bible myths, p. . ( ) from the great law, of religious origins: by w. williamson ( ), p. . ( ) the golden bough, vol. ii, p. . ( ) natural and moral history of the indies. london ( ). ( ) see markham's rites and laws of the incas, p. . moving from peru to china (instead of 'from china to peru') we find that "the chinese pour wine (a very general substitute for blood) on a straw image of confucius, and then all present drink of it, and taste the sacrificial victim, in order to participate in the grace of confucius." (here again the corn and wine are blended in one rite.) and of tartary father grueber thus testifies: "this only i do affirm, that the devil so mimics the catholic church there, that although no european or christian has ever been there, still in all essential things they agree so completely with the roman church, as even to celebrate the host with bread and wine: with my own eyes i have seen it." ( ) these few instances are sufficient to show the extraordinarily wide diffusion of totem-sacraments and eucharistic rites all over the world. ( ) for these two quotations see jevons' introduction to the history of religion, pp. and . v. food and vegetation magic i have wandered, in pursuit of totems and the eucharist, some way from the astronomical thread of chapters ii and iii, and now it would appear that in order to understand religious origins we must wander still farther. the chapters mentioned were largely occupied with sungods and astronomical phenomena, but now we have to consider an earlier period when there were no definite forms of gods, and when none but the vaguest astronomical knowledge existed. sometimes in historical matters it is best and safest to move thus backwards in time, from the things recent and fairly well known to things more ancient and less known. in this way we approach more securely to some understanding of the dim and remote past. it is clear that before any definite speculations on heaven-dwelling gods or divine beings had arisen in the human mind--or any clear theories of how the sun and moon and stars might be connected with the changes of the seasons on the earth--there were still certain obvious things which appealed to everybody, learned or unlearned alike. one of these was the return of vegetation, bringing with it the fruits or the promise of the fruits of the earth, for human food, and also bringing with it increase of animal life, for food in another form; and the other was the return of light and warmth, making life easier in all ways. food delivering from the fear of starvation; light and warmth delivering from the fear of danger and of cold. these were three glorious things which returned together and brought salvation and renewed life to man. the period of their return was 'spring,' and though spring and its benefits might fade away in time, still there was always the hope of its return--though even so it may have been a long time in human evolution before man discovered that it really did always return, and (with certain allowances) at equal intervals of time. long then before any sun or star gods could be called in, the return of the vegetation must have enthralled man's attention, and filled him with hope and joy. yet since its return was somewhat variable and uncertain the question, what could man do to assist that return? naturally became a pressing one. it is now generally held that the use of magic--sympathetic magic--arose in this way. sympathetic magic seems to have been generated by a belief that your own actions cause a similar response in things and persons around you. yet this belief did not rest on any philosophy or argument, but was purely instinctive and sometimes of the nature of a mere corporeal reaction. every schoolboy knows how in watching a comrade's high jump at the sports he often finds himself lifting a knee at the moment 'to help him over'; at football matches quarrels sometimes arise among the spectators by reason of an ill-placed kick coming from a too enthusiastic on-looker, behind one; undergraduates running on the tow-path beside their college boat in the races will hurry even faster than the boat in order to increase its speed; there is in each case an automatic bodily response increased by one's own desire. a person acts the part which he desires to be successful. he thinks to transfer his energy in that way. again, if by chance one witnesses a painful accident, a crushed foot or what-not, it commonly happens that one feels a pain in the same part oneself--a sympathetic pain. what more natural than to suppose that the pain really is transferred from the one person to the other? and how easy the inference that by tormenting a wretched scape-goat or crucifying a human victim in some cases the sufferings of people may be relieved or their sins atoned for? simaetha, it will be remembered, in the second idyll of theocritus, curses her faithless lover delphis, and as she melts his waxen image she prays that he too may melt. all this is of the nature of magic, and is independent of and generally more primitive than theology or philosophy. yet it interests us because it points to a firm instinct in early man--to which i have already alluded--the instinct of his unity and continuity with the rest of creation, and of a common life so close that his lightest actions may cause a far-reaching reaction in the world outside. man, then, independently of any belief in gods, may assist the arrival of spring by magic ceremonies. if you want the vegetation to appear you must have rain; and the rain-maker in almost all primitive tribes has been a most important personage. generally he based his rites on quite fanciful associations, as when the rain-maker among the mandans wore a raven's skin on his head (bird of the storm) or painted his shield with red zigzags of lightning ( ); but partly, no doubt, he had observed actual facts, or had had the knowledge of them transmitted to him--as, for instance that when rain is impending loud noises will bring about its speedy downfall, a fact we moderns have had occasion to notice on battlefields. he had observed perhaps that in a storm a specially loud clap of thunder is generally followed by a greatly increased downpour of rain. he had even noticed (a thing which i have often verified in the vicinity of sheffield) that the copious smoke of fires will generate rain-clouds--and so quite naturally he concluded that it was his smoking sacrifices which had that desirable effect. so far he was on the track of elementary science. and so he made "bull-roarers" to imitate the sound of wind and the blessed rain-bringing thunder, or clashed great bronze cymbals together with the same object. bull-voices and thunder-drums and the clashing of cymbals were used in this connection by the greeks, and are mentioned by aeschylus ( ); but the bull-roarer, in the form of a rhombus of wood whirled at the end of a string, seems to be known, or to have been known, all over the world. it is described with some care by mr. andrew lang in his custom and myth (pp. - ), where he says "it is found always as a sacred instrument employed in religious mysteries, in new mexico, australia, new zealand, ancient greece, and africa." ( ) see catlin's north american indians, letter . ( ) themis, p. . sometimes, of course, the rain-maker was successful; but of the inner causes of rain he knew next to nothing; he was more ignorant even than we are! his main idea was a more specially 'magical' one--namely, that the sound itself would appeal to the spirits of rain and thunder and cause them to give a response. for of course the thunder (in hebrew bath-kol, "the daughter of the voice") was everywhere regarded as the manifestation of a spirit. ( ) to make sounds like thunder would therefore naturally call the attention of such a spirit; or he, the rain-maker, might make sounds like rain. he made gourd-rattles (known in ever so many parts of the world) in which he rattled dried seeds or small pebbles with a most beguiling and rain-like insistence; or sometimes, like the priests of baal in the bible, ( ) he would cut himself with knives till the blood fell upon the ground in great drops suggestive of an oncoming thunder-shower. "in mexico the rain god was propitiated with sacrifices of children. if the children wept and shed abundant tears, they who carried them rejoiced, being convinced that rain would also be abundant." ( ) sometimes he, the rain-maker, would whistle for the wind, or, like the omaha indians, flap his blankets for the same purpose. ( ) see a. lang, op. cit.: "the muttering of the thunder is said to be his voice calling to the rain to fall and make the grass grow up green." such are the very words of umbara, the minstrel of the tribe (australian). ( ) i kings xviii. ( ) quoted from sahagun ii, , by a. lang in myth, ritual and religion, vol. ii, p. . in the ancient myth of demeter and persephone--which has been adopted by so many peoples under so many forms--demeter the earth-mother loses her daughter persephone (who represents of course the vegetation), carried down into the underworld by the evil powers of darkness and winter. and in greece there was a yearly ceremonial and ritual of magic for the purpose of restoring the lost one and bringing her back to the world again. women carried certain charms, "fir-cones and snakes and unnamable objects made of paste, to ensure fertility; there was a sacrifice of pigs, who were thrown into a deep cleft of the earth, and their remains afterwards collected and scattered as a charm over the fields." ( ) fir-cones and snakes from their very forms were emblems of male fertility; snakes, too, from their habit of gliding out of their own skins with renewed brightness and color were suggestive of resurrection and re-vivification; pigs and sows by their exceeding fruitfulness would in their hour of sacrifice remind old mother earth of what was expected from her! moreover, no doubt it had been observed that the scattering of dead flesh over the ground or mixed with the seed, did bless the ground to a greater fertility; and so by a strange mixture of primitive observation with a certain child-like belief that by means of symbols and suggestions nature could be appealed to and induced to answer to the desires and needs for her children this sort of ceremonial magic arose. it was not exactly science, and it was not exactly religion; but it was a naive, and perhaps not altogether mistaken, sense of the bond between nature and man. ( ) see gilbert murray's four stages of greek religion, p. . for we can perceive that earliest man was not yet consciously differentiated from nature. not only do we see that the tribal life was so strong that the individual seldom regarded himself as different or separate or opposed to the rest of the tribe; but that something of the same kind was true with regard to his relation to the animals and to nature at large. this outer world was part of himself, was also himself. his sub-conscious sense of unity was so great that it largely dominated his life. that brain-cleverness and brain-activity which causes modern man to perceive such a gulf between him and the animals, or between himself and nature, did not exist in the early man. hence it was no difficulty to him to believe that he was a bear or an emu. sub-consciously he was wiser than we are. he knew that he was a bear or an emu, or any other such animal as his totem-creed led him to fix his mind upon. hence we find that a familiarity and common consent existed between primitive man and many of his companion animals such as has been lost or much attenuated in modern times. elisee reclus in his very interesting paper la grande famille ( ) gives support to the idea that the so-called domestication of animals did not originally arise from any forcible subjugation of them by man, but from a natural amity with them which grew up in the beginning from common interests, pursuits and affections. thus the chetah of india (and probably the puma of brazil) from far-back times took to hunting in the company of his two-legged and bow-and-arrow-armed friend, with whom he divided the spoil. w. h. hudson ( ) declares that the puma, wild and fierce though it is, and capable of killing the largest game, will never even to-day attack man, but when maltreated by the latter submits to the outrage, unresisting, with mournful cries and every sign of grief. the llama, though domesticated in a sense, has never allowed the domination of the whip or the bit, but may still be seen walking by the side of the brazilian peasant and carrying his burdens in a kind of proud companionship. the mutual relations of women and the cow, or of man and the horse ( ) (also the elephant) reach so far into the past that their origin cannot be traced. the swallow still loves to make its home under the cottage eaves and still is welcomed by the inmates as the bringer of good fortune. elisee reclus assures us that the dinka man on the nile calls to certain snakes by name and shares with them the milk of his cows. ( ) published originally in le magazine international, january . ( ) see the naturalist in la plata, ch. ii. ( ) "it is certain that the primitive indo-european reared droves of tame or half-tame horses for generations, if not centuries, before it ever occurred to him to ride or drive them" (f. b. jevons, introd. to hist. religion, p. ). and so with nature. the communal sense, or subconscious perception, which made primitive men feel their unity with other members of their tribe, and their obvious kinship with the animals around them, brought them also so close to general nature that they looked upon the trees, the vegetation, the rain, the warmth of the sun, as part of their bodies, part of themselves. conscious differentiation had not yet set in. to cause rain or thunder you had to make rain- or thunder-like noises; to encourage vegetation and the crops to leap out of the ground, you had to leap and dance. "in swabia and among the transylvanian saxons it is a common custom (says dr. frazer) for a man who has some hemp to leap high in the field in the belief that this will make the hemp grow tall." ( ) native may-pole dances and jacks in the green have hardly yet died out--even in this most civilized england. the bower of green boughs, the music of pipes, the leaping and the twirling, were all an encouragement to the arrival of spring, and an expression of sympathetic magic. when you felt full of life and energy and virility in yourself you naturally leapt and danced, so why should you not sympathetically do this for the energizing of the crops? in every country of the world the vernal season and the resurrection of the sun has been greeted with dances and the sound of music. but if you wanted success in hunting or in warfare then you danced before-hand mimic dances suggesting the successful hunt or battle. it was no more than our children do to-day, and it all was, and is, part of a natural-magic tendency in human thought. ( ) see the golden bough, i, seq. also art and ritual, p. . let me pause here for a moment. it is difficult for us with our academical and somewhat school-boardy minds to enter into all this, and to understand the sense of (unconscious or sub-conscious) identification with the world around which characterized the primitive man--or to look upon nature with his eyes. a tree, a snake, a bull, an ear of corn. we know so well from our botany and natural history books what these things are. why should our minds dwell on them any longer or harbor a doubt as to our perfect comprehension of them? and yet (one cannot help asking the question): has any one of us really ever seen a tree? i certainly do not think that i have--except most superficially. that very penetrating observer and naturalist, henry d. thoreau, tells us that he would often make an appointment to visit a certain tree, miles away--but what or whom he saw when he got there, he does not say. walt whitman, also a keen observer, speaks of a tulip-tree near which he sometimes sat--"the apollo of the woods--tall and graceful, yet robust and sinewy, inimitable in hang of foliage and throwing-out of limb; as if the beauteous, vital, leafy creature could walk, if it only would"; and mentions that in a dream-trance he actually once saw his "favorite trees step out and promenade up, down and around very curiously." ( ) once the present writer seemed to have a partial vision of a tree. it was a beech, standing somewhat isolated, and still leafless in quite early spring. suddenly i was aware of its skyward-reaching arms and up-turned finger-tips, as if some vivid life (or electricity) was streaming through them far into the spaces of heaven, and of its roots plunged in the earth and drawing the same energies from below. the day was quite still and there was no movement in the branches, but in that moment the tree was no longer a separate or separable organism, but a vast being ramifying far into space, sharing and uniting the life of earth and sky, and full of a most amazing activity. ( ) specimen days, - edition, p. iii. the reader of this will probably have had some similar experiences. perhaps he will have seen a full-foliaged lombardy poplar swaying in half a gale in june--the wind and the sun streaming over every little twig and leaf, the tree throwing out its branches in a kind of ecstasy and bathing them in the passionately boisterous caresses of its two visitants; or he will have heard the deep glad murmur of some huge sycamore with ripening seed clusters when after weeks of drought the steady warm rain brings relief to its thirst; and he will have known that these creatures are but likenesses of himself, intimately and deeply-related to him in their love and hunger longing, and, like himself too, unfathomed and unfathomable. it would be absurd to credit early man with conscious speculations like these, belonging more properly to the twentieth century; yet it is incontrovertible, i think, that in some ways the primitive peoples, with their swift subconscious intuitions and their minds unclouded by mere book knowledge, perceived truths to which we moderns are blind. like the animals they arrived at their perceptions without (individual) brain effort; they knew things without thinking. when they did think of course they went wrong. their budding science easily went astray. religion with them had as yet taken no definite shape; science was equally protoplasmic; and all they had was a queer jumble of the two in the form of magic. when at a later time science gradually defined its outlook and its observations, and religion, from being a vague subconscious feeling, took clear shape in the form of gods and creeds, then mankind gradually emerged into the stage of evolution in which we now are. our scientific laws and doctrines are of course only temporary formulae, and so also are the gods and the creeds of our own and other religions; but these things, with their set and angular outlines, have served in the past and will serve in the future as stepping-stones towards another kind of knowledge of which at present we only dream, and will lead us on to a renewed power of perception which again will not be the laborious product of thought but a direct and instantaneous intuition like that of the animals--and the angels. to return to our tree. though primitive man did not speculate in modern style on these things, i yet have no reasonable doubt that he felt (and feels, in those cases where we can still trace the workings of his mind) his essential relationship to the creatures of the forest more intimately, if less analytically, than we do to-day. if the animals with all their wonderful gifts are (as we readily admit) a veritable part of nature--so that they live and move and have their being more or less submerged in the spirit of the great world around them--then man, when he first began to differentiate himself from them, must for a long time have remained in this subconscious unity, becoming only distinctly conscious of it when he was already beginning to lose it. that early dawn of distinct consciousness corresponded to the period of belief in magic. in that first mystic illumination almost every object was invested with a halo of mystery or terror or adoration. things were either tabu, in which case they were dangerous, and often not to be touched or even looked upon--or they were overflowing with magic grace and influence, in which case they were holy, and any rite which released their influence was also holy. william blake, that modern prophetic child, beheld a tree full of angels; the central australian native believes bushes to be the abode of spirits which leap into the bodies of passing women and are the cause of the conception of children; moses saw in the desert a bush (perhaps the mimosa) like a flame of fire, with jehovah dwelling in the midst of it, and he put off his shoes for he felt that the place was holy; osiris was at times regarded as a tree-spirit ( ); and in inscriptions is referred to as "the solitary one in the acacia"--which reminds us curiously of the "burning bush." the same is true of others of the gods; in the old norse mythology ygdrasil was the great branching world-ash, abode of the soul of the universe; the peepul or bo-tree in india is very sacred and must on no account be cut down, seeing that gods and spirits dwell among its branches. it is of the nature of an aspen, and of little or no practical use, ( ) but so holy that the poorest peasant will not disturb it. the burmese believe the things of nature, but especially the trees, to be the abode of spirits. "to the burman of to-day, not less than to the greek of long ago, all nature is alive. the forest and the river and the mountains are full of spirits, whom the burmans call nats. there are all kinds of nats, good and bad, great and little, male and female, now living round about us. some of them live in the trees, especially in the huge figtree that shades half-an-acre without the village; or among the fern-like fronds of the tamarind." ( ) ( ) the golden bough, iv, . ( ) though the sap is said to contain caoutchouc. ( ) the soul of a people, by h. fielding ( ), p. . there are also in india and elsewhere popular rites of marriage of women (and men) to trees; which suggest that trees were regarded as very near akin to human beings! the golden bough ( ) mentions many of these, including the idea that some trees are male and others female. the well-known assyrian emblem of a pine cone being presented by a priest to a palm-tree is supposed by e. b. tylor to symbolize fertilization--the pine cone being masculine and the palm feminine. the ceremony of the god krishna's marriage to a basil plant is still celebrated in india down to the present day; and certain trees are clasped and hugged by pregnant women--the idea no doubt being that they bestow fertility on those who embrace them. in other cases apparently it is the trees which are benefited, since it is said that men sometimes go naked into the clove plantations at night in order by a sort of sexual intercourse to fertilize them. ( ) ( ) vol. i, p. , vol. iii, pp. sq. ( ) ibid., vol. ii, p. . one might go on multiplying examples in this direction quite indefinitely. there is no end to them. they all indicate--what was instinctively felt by early man, and is perfectly obvious to all to-day who are not blinded by "civilization" (and herbert spencer!) that the world outside us is really most deeply akin to ourselves, that it is not dead and senseless but intensely alive and instinct with feeling and intelligence resembling our own. it is this perception, this conviction of our essential unity with the whole of creation, which lay from the first at the base of all religion; yet at first, as i have said, was hardly a conscious perception. only later, when it gradually became more conscious, did it evolve itself into the definite forms of the gods and the creeds--but of that process i will speak more in detail presently. the tree therefore was a most intimate presence to the man. it grew in the very midst of his garden of eden. it had a magical virtue, which his tentative science could only explain by chance analogies and assimilations. attractive and beloved and worshipped by reason of its many gifts to mankind--its grateful shelter, its abounding fruits, its timber, and other invaluable products--why should it not become the natural emblem of the female, to whom through sex man's worship is ever drawn? if the snake has an unmistakable resemblance to the male organ in its active state, the foliage of the tree or bush is equally remindful of the female. what more clear than that the conjunction of tree and serpent is the fulfilment in nature of that sex-mystery which is so potent in the life of man and the animals? and that the magic ritual most obviously fitted to induce fertility in the tribe or the herds (or even the crops) is to set up an image of the tree and the serpent combined, and for all the tribe-folk in common to worship and pay it reverence. in the bible with more or less veiled sexual significance we have this combination in the eden-garden, and again in the brazen serpent and pole which moses set up in the wilderness (as a cure for the fiery serpents of lust); illustrations of the same are said to be found in the temples of egypt and of south india, and even in the ancient temples of central america. ( ) in the myth of hercules the golden apples of the hesperides garden are guarded by a dragon. the etruscans, the persians and the babylonians had also legends of the fall of man through a serpent tempting him to taste of the fruit of a holy tree. and de gubernatis, ( ) pointing out the phallic meaning of these stories, says "the legends concerning the tree of golden apples or figs which yields honey or ambrosia, guarded by dragons, in which the life, the fortune, the glory, the strength and the riches of the hero have their beginning, are numerous among every people of aryan origin: in india, persia, russia, poland, sweden, germany, greece and italy." ( ) see ancient pagan and modern christian symbolism, by thomas inman (trubner, ), p. . ( ) zoological mythology, vol. ii, pp. sq. thus we see the natural-magic tendency of the human mind asserting itself. to some of us indeed this tendency is even greater in the case of the snake than in that of the tree. w. h. hudson, in far away and long ago, speaks of "that sense of something supernatural in the serpent, which appears to have been universal among peoples in a primitive state of culture, and still survives in some barbarous or semi-barbarous countries." the fascination of the snake--the fascination of its mysteriously gliding movement, of its vivid energy, its glittering eye, its intensity of life, combined with its fatal dart of death--is a thing felt even more by women than by men--and for a reason (from what we have already said) not far to seek. it was the woman who in the story of the fall was the first to listen to its suggestions. no wonder that, as professor murray says, ( ) the greeks worshiped a gigantic snake (meilichios) the lord of death and life, with ceremonies of appeasement, and sacrifices, long before they arrived at the worship of zeus and the olympian gods. ( ) four stages of greek religion, p. . or let us take the example of an ear of corn. some people wonder--hearing nowadays that the folk of old used to worship a corn-spirit or corn-god--wonder that any human beings could have been so foolish. but probably the good people who wonder thus have never really looked (with their town-dazed eyes) at a growing spike of wheat. ( ) of all the wonderful things in nature i hardly know any that thrills one more with a sense of wizardry than just this very thing--to observe, each year, this disclosure of the ear within the blade--first a swelling of the sheath, then a transparency and a whitey-green face within a hooded shroud, and then the perfect spike of grain disengaging itself and spiring upward towards the sky--"the resurrection of the wheat with pale visage appearing out of the ground." ( ) even the thrice-learned dr. famell quotes apparently with approval the scornful words of hippolytus, who (he says) "speaks of the athenians imitating people at the eleusinian mysteries and showing to the epoptae (initiates) that great and marvelous mystery of perfect revelation--in solemn silence--a cut cornstalk ([gr teqerismenon] [gr stacon])."--cults of the greek states, vol. iii, p. . if this spectacle amazes one to-day, what emotions must it not have aroused in the breasts of the earlier folk, whose outlook on the world was so much more direct than ours--more 'animistic' if you like! what wonderment, what gratitude, what deliverance from fear (of starvation), what certainty that this being who had been ruthlessly cut down and sacrificed last year for human food had indeed arisen again as a savior of men, what readiness to make some human sacrifice in return, both as an acknowledgment of the debt, and as a gift of something which would no doubt be graciously accepted!--(for was it not well known that where blood had been spilt on the ground the future crop was so much more generous?)--what readiness to adopt some magic ritual likely to propitiate the unseen power--even though the outline and form of the latter were vague and uncertain in the extreme! dr. frazer, speaking of the egyptian osiris as one out of many corn-gods of the above character, says ( ): "the primitive conception of him as the corn-god comes clearly out in the festival of his death and resurrection, which was celebrated the month of athyr. that festival appears to have been essentially a festival of sowing, which properly fell at the time when the husbandman actually committed the seed to the earth. on that occasion an effigy of the corn-god, moulded of earth and corn, was buried with funeral rites in the ground in order that, dying there, he might come to life again with the new crops. the ceremony was in fact a charm to ensure the growth of the corn by sympathetic magic, and we may conjecture that as such it was practised in a simple form by every egyptian farmer on his fields long before it was adopted and transfigured by the priests in the stately ritual of the temple." ( ) ( ) the golden bough, iv, p. . ( ) see ch. xv. the magic in this case was of a gentle description; the clay image of osiris sprouting all over with the young green blade was pathetically poetic; but, as has been suggested, bloodthirsty ceremonies were also common enough. human sacrifices, it is said, had at one time been offered at the grave of osiris. we bear that the indians in ecuador used to sacrifice men's hearts and pour out human blood on their fields when they sowed them; the pawnee indians used a human victim the same, allowing his blood to drop on the seed-corn. it is said that in mexico girls were sacrificed, and that the mexicans would sometimes grind their (male) victim, like corn, between two stones. ("i'll grind his bones to make me bread.") among the khonds of east india--who were particularly given to this kind of ritual--the very tears of the sufferer were an incitement to more cruelties, for tears of course were magic for rain. ( ) ( ) the golden bough, vol. vii, "the corn-spirit," pp. sq. and so on. we have referred to the bull many times, both in his astronomical aspect as pioneer of the spring-sun, and in his more direct role as plougher of the fields, and provider of food from his own body. "the tremendous mana of the wild bull," says gilbert murray, "occupies almost half the stage of pre-olympic ritual." ( ) even to us there is something mesmeric and overwhelming in the sense of this animal's glory of strength and fury and sexual power. no wonder the primitives worshiped him, or that they devised rituals which should convey his power and vitality by mere contact, or that in sacramental feasts they ate his flesh and drank his blood as a magic symbol and means of salvation. ( ) four stages, p. . vi. magicians, kings and gods it is perhaps necessary, at the commencement of this chapter, to say a few more words about the nature and origin of the belief in magic. magic represented on one side, and clearly enough, the beginnings of religion--i.e. the instinctive sense of man's inner continuity with the world around him, taking shape: a fanciful shape it is true, but with very real reaction on his practical life and feelings. ( ) on the other side it represented the beginnings of science. it was his first attempt not merely to feel but to understand the mystery of things. ( ) for an excellent account of the relation of magic to religion see w. mcdougall, social psychology ( ), pp. - . inevitably these first efforts to understand were very puerile, very superficial. as e. b. tylor says ( ) of primitive folk in general, "they mistook an imaginary for a real connection." and he instances the case of the inhabitants of the city of ephesus, who laid down a rope, seven furlongs in length, from the city to the temple of artemis, in order to place the former under the protection of the latter! we should lay down a telephone wire, and consider that we established a much more efficient connection; but in the beginning, and quite naturally, men, like children, rely on surface associations. among the dyaks of borneo ( ) when the men are away fighting, the women must use a sort of telepathic magic in order to safeguard them--that is, they must themselves rise early and keep awake all day (lest darkness and sleep should give advantage to the enemy); they must not oil their hair (lest their husbands should make any slips); they must eat sparingly and put aside rice at every meal (so that the men may not want for food). and so on. similar superstitions are common. but they gradually lead to a little thought, and then to a little more, and so to the discovery of actual and provable influences. perhaps one day the cord connecting the temple with ephesus was drawn tight and it was found that messages could be, by tapping, transmitted along it. that way lay the discovery of a fact. in an age which worshiped fertility, whether in mankind or animals, twins were ever counted especially blest, and were credited with a magic power. (the constellation of the twins was thought peculiarly lucky.) perhaps after a time it was discovered that twins sometimes run in families, and in such cases really do bring fertility with them. in cattle it is known nowadays that there are more twins of the female sex than of the male sex. ( ) ( ) primitive culture, vol. i, p. . ( ) see the golden bough, i, . ( ) see evolution of sex, by geddes and thomson ( ), p. , note. observations of this kind were naturally made by the ablest members of the tribe--who were in all probability the medicine-men and wizards--and brought in consequence power into their hands. the road to power in fact--and especially was this the case in societies which had not yet developed wealth and property--lay through magic. as far as magic represented early superstition land religion it laid hold of the hearts of men--their hopes and fears; as far as it represented science and the beginnings of actual knowledge, it inspired their minds with a sense of power, and gave form to their lives and customs. we have no reason to suppose that the early magicians and medicine-men were peculiarly wicked or bent on mere self-aggrandizement--any more than we have to think the same of the average country vicar or country doctor of to-day. they were merely men a trifle wiser or more instructed than their flocks. but though probably in most cases their original intentions were decent enough, they were not proof against the temptations which the possession of power always brings, and as time went on they became liable to trade more and more upon this power for their own advancement. in the matter of religion the history of the christian priesthood through the centuries shows sufficiently to what misuse such power can be put; and in the matter of science it is a warning to us of the dangers attending the formation of a scientific priesthood, such as we see growing up around us to-day. in both cases--whether science or religion--vanity, personal ambition, lust of domination and a hundred other vices, unless corrected by a real devotion to the public good, may easily bring as many evils in their train as those they profess to cure. the medicine-man, or wizard, or magician, or priest, slowly but necessarily gathered power into his hands, and there is much evidence to show that in the case of many tribes at any rate, it was he who became ultimate chief and leader and laid the foundations of kingship. the basileus was always a sacred personality, and often united in himself as head of the clan the offices of chief in warfare and leader in priestly rites--like agamemnon in homer, or saul or david in the bible. as a magician he had influence over the fertility of the earth and, like the blameless king in the odyssey, under his sway "the dark earth beareth in season barley and wheat, and the trees are laden with fruitage, and alway yean unfailing the flocks, and the sea gives fish in abundance." ( ) ( ) odyssey xix, sq. translation by h. b. cotterill. as a magician too he was trusted for success in warfare; and schoolcraft, in a passage quoted by andrew lang, ( ) says of the dacotah indians "the war-chief who leads the party to war is always one of these medicine-men." this connection, however, by which the magician is transformed into the king has been abundantly studied, and need not be further dwelt upon here. and what of the transformation of the king into a god--or of the magician or priest directly into the same? perhaps in order to appreciate this, one must make a further digression. for the early peoples there were, as it would appear, two main objects in life: ( ) to promote fertility in cattle and crops, for food; and ( ) to placate or ward off death; and it seemed very obvious--even before any distinct figures of gods, or any idea of prayer, had arisen--to attain these objects by magic ritual. the rites of baptism, of initiation (or confirmation) and the many ceremonies of a second birth, which we associate with fully-formed religions, did belong also to the age of magic; and they all implied a belief in some kind of re-incarnation--in a life going forward continually and being renewed in birth again and again. it is curious that we find such a belief among the lowest savages even to-day. dr. frazer, speaking of the central australian tribes, says the belief is firmly rooted among them "that the human soul undergoes an endless series of re-incarnations--the living men and women of one generation being nothing but the spirits of their ancestors come to life again, and destined themselves to be reborn in the persons of their descendants. during the interval between two re-incarnations the souls live in their nanja spots, or local totem-centres, which are always natural objects such as trees or rocks. each totem-clan has a number of such totem-centres scattered over the country. there the souls of the dead men and women of the totem, but no others, congregate, and are born again in human form when a favorable opportunity presents itself." ( ) ( ) myth, ritual and religion, vol. i, p. . ( ) the golden bough, vol. i, p. . and what the early people believed of the human spirit, they believed of the corn-spirits and the tree and vegetation spirits also. at the great spring-ritual among the primitive greeks "the tribe and the growing earth were renovated together: the earth arises afresh from her dead seeds, the tribe from its dead ancestors." and the whole process projects itself in the idea of a spirit of the year, who "in the first stage is living, then dies with each year, and thirdly rises again from the dead, raising the whole dead world with him. the greeks called him in this stage 'the third one' (tritos soter) or 'the saviour'; and the renovation ceremonies were accompanied by a casting-off of the old year, the old garments, and everything that is polluted by the infection of death." ( ) thus the multiplication of the crops and the renovation of the tribe, and at the same time the evasion and placation of death, were all assured by similar rites and befitting ceremonial magic. ( ) ( ) gilbert murray, four stages, p. . ( ) it is interesting to find, with regard to the renovation of the tribe, that among the central australians the foreskins or male members of those who died were deposited in the above-mentioned nanja spots--the idea evidently being that like the seeds of the corn the seeds of the human crop must be carefully and ceremonially preserved for their re-incarnation. in all these cases, and many others that i have not mentioned--of the magical worship of bulls and bears and rams and cats and emus and kangaroos, of trees and snakes, of sun and moon and stars, and the spirit of the corn in its yearly and miraculous resurrection out of the ground--there is still the same idea or moving inspiration, the sense mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the feeling (hardly yet conscious of its own meaning) of intimate relationship and unity with all this outer world, the instinctive conviction that the world can be swayed by the spirit of man, if the man can only find the right ritual, the right word, the right spell, wherewith to move it. an aura of emotion surrounded everything--of terror, of tabu, of fascination, of desire. the world, to these people, was transparent with presences related to themselves; and though hunger and sex may have been the dominant and overwhelmingly practical needs of their life, yet their outlook on the world was essentially poetic and imaginative. moreover it will be seen that in this age of magic and the belief in spirits, though there was an intense sense of every thing being alive, the gods, in the more modern sense of the world, hardly existed ( )--that is, there was no very clear vision, to these people, of supra-mundane beings, sitting apart and ordaining the affairs of earth, as it were from a distance. doubtless this conception was slowly evolving, but it was only incipient. for the time being--though there might be orders and degrees of spirits (and of gods)--every such being was only conceived of, and could only be conceived of, as actually a part of nature, dwelling in and interlaced with some phenomenon of earth and sky, and having no separate existence. ( ) for a discussion of the evolution of religion out of magic, see westermarck's origin of moral ideas, ch. . how was it then, it will be asked, that the belief in separate and separable gods and goddesses--each with his or her well-marked outline and character and function, like the divinities of greece, or of india, or of the egyptian or christian religions, ultimately arose? to this question jane harrison (in her themis and other books) gives an ingenious answer, which as it chimes in with my own speculations (in the art of creation and elsewhere) i am inclined to adopt. it is that the figures of the supranatural gods arose from a process in the human mind similar to that which the photographer adopts when by photographing a number of faces on the same plate, and so superposing their images on one another, he produces a so-called "composite" photograph or image. thus, in the photographic sphere, the portraits of a lot of members of the same family superposed upon one another may produce a composite image or ideal of that family type, or the portraits of a number of aztecs or of a number of apache indians the ideals respectively of the aztec or of the apache types. and so in the mental sphere of each member of a tribe the many images of the well-known warriors or priests or wise and gracious women of that tribe did inevitably combine at last to composite figures of gods and goddesses--on whom the enthusiasm and adoration of the tribe was concentrated. ( ) miss harrison has ingeniously suggested how the leading figures in the magic rituals of the past--being the figures on which all eyes would be concentrated; and whose importance would be imprinted on every mind--lent themselves to this process. the suffering victim, bound and scourged and crucified, recurring year after year as the centre-figure of a thousand ritual processions, would at last be dramatized and idealized in the great race-consciousness into the form of a suffering god--a jesus christ or a dionysus or osiris--dismembered or crucified for the salvation of mankind. the priest or medicine-man--or rather the succession of priests or medicine-men--whose figures would recur again and again as leaders and ordainers of the ceremonies, would be glorified at last into the composite-image of a god in whom were concentrated all magic powers. "recent researches," says gilbert murray, "have shown us in abundance the early greek medicine-chiefs making thunder and lightning and rain." here is the germ of a zeus or a jupiter. the particular medicine-man may fail; that does not so much matter; he is only the individual representative of the glorified and composite being who exists in the mind of the tribe (just as a present-day king may be unworthy, but is surrounded all the same by the agelong glamour of royalty). "the real [gr qeos], tremendous, infallible, is somewhere far away, hidden in clouds perhaps, on the summit of some inaccessible mountain. if the mountain is once climbed the god will move to the upper sky. the medicine-chief meanwhile stays on earth, still influential. he has some connection with the great god more intimate than that of other men... he knows the rules for approaching him and making prayers to him." ( ) thus did the medicine-man, or priest, or magician (for these are but three names for one figure) represent one step in the evolution of the god. ( ) see the art of creation, ch. viii, "the gods as apparitions of the race-life." ( ) the four stages, p. . and farther back still in the evolutionary process we may trace (as in chapter iv above) the divinization or deification of four-footed animals and birds and snakes and trees and the like, from the personification of the collective emotion of the tribe towards these creatures. for people whose chief food was bear-meat, for instance, whose totem was a bear, and who believed themselves descended from an ursine ancestor, there would grow up in the tribal mind an image surrounded by a halo of emotions--emotions of hungry desire, of reverence, fear, gratitude and so forth--an image of a divine bear in whom they lived and moved and had their being. for another tribe or group in whose yearly ritual a bull or a lamb or a kangaroo played a leading part there would in the same way spring tip the image of a holy bull, a divine lamb, or a sacred kangaroo. another group again might come to worship a serpent as its presiding genius, or a particular kind of tree, simply because these objects were and had been for centuries prominent factors in its yearly and seasonal magic. as reinach and others suggest, it was the taboo (bred by fear) which by first forbidding contact with the totem-animal or priest or magician-chief gradually invested him with awe and divinity. according to this theory the god--the full-grown god in human shape, dwelling apart and beyond the earth--did not come first, but was a late and more finished product of evolution. he grew up by degrees and out of the preceding animal-worships and totem-systems. and this theory is much supported and corroborated by the fact that in a vast number of early cults the gods are represented by human figures with animal heads. the egyptian religion was full of such divinities--the jackal-headed anubis, the ram-headed ammon, the bull-fronted osiris, or muth, queen of darkness, clad in a vulture's skin; minos and the minotaur in crete; in greece, athena with an owl's head, or herakles masked in the hide and jaws of a monstrous lion. what could be more obvious than that, following on the tribal worship of any totem-animal, the priest or medicine-man or actual king in leading the magic ritual should don the skin and head of that animal, and wear the same as a kind of mask--this partly in order to appear to the people as the true representative of the totem, and partly also in order to obtain from the skin the magic virtues and mana of the beast, which he could then duly impart to the crowd? zeus, it must be remembered, wears the aegis, or goat-skin--said to be the hide of the goat amaltheia who suckled him in his infancy; there are a number of legends which connected the arcadian artemis with the worship of the bear, apollo with the wolf, and so forth. and, most curious as showing similarity of rites between the old and new worlds, there are found plenty of examples of the wearing of beast-masks in religious processions among the native tribes of both north and south america. in the atlas of spix and martius (who travelled together in the amazonian forests about ) there is an understanding and characteristic picture of the men (and some women) of the tribe of the tecunas moving in procession through the woods mostly naked, except for wearing animal heads and masks--the masks representing cranes of various kinds, ducks, the opossum, the jaguar, the parrot, etc., probably symbolic of their respective clans. by some such process as this, it may fairly be supposed, the forms of the gods were slowly exhaled from the actual figures of men and women, of youths and girls, who year after year took part in the ancient rituals. just as the queen of the may or father christmas with us are idealized forms derived from the many happy maidens or white-bearded old men who took leading parts in the may or december mummings and thus gained their apotheosis in our literature and tradition--so doubtless zeus with his thunderbolts and arrows of lightning is the idealization into heaven of the priestly rain-maker and storm-controller; ares the god of war, the similar idealization of the leading warrior in the ritual war-dance preceding an attack on a neighboring tribe; and mercury of the foot-running messenger whose swiftness in those days (devoid of steam or electricity) was so precious a tribal possession. and here it must be remembered that this explanation of the genesis of the gods only applies to the shapes and figures of the various deities. it does not apply to the genesis of the widespread belief in spirits or a great spirit generally; that, as i think will become clear, has quite another source. some people have jeered at the 'animistic' or 'anthropomorphic' tendency of primitive man in his contemplation of the forces of nature or his imaginations of religion and the gods. with a kind of superior pity they speak of "the poor indian whose untutored mind sees god in clouds and hears him in the wind." but i must confess that to me the "poor indian" seems on the whole to show more good sense than his critics, and to have aimed his rude arrows at the philosophic mark more successfully than a vast number of his learned and scientific successors. a consideration of what we have said above would show that early people felt their unity with nature so deeply and intimately that--like the animals themselves--they did not think consciously or theorize about it. it was just their life to be--like the beasts of the field and the trees of the forest--a part of the whole flux of things, non-differentiated so to speak. what more natural or indeed more logically correct than for them to assume (when they first began to think or differentiate themselves) that these other creatures, these birds, beasts and plants, and even the sun and moon, were of the same blood as themselves, their first cousins, so to speak, and having the same interior nature? what more reasonable (if indeed they credited themselves with having some kind of soul or spirit) than to credit these other creatures with a similar soul or spirit? im thurn, speaking of the guiana indians, says that for them "the whole world swarms with beings." surely this could not be taken to indicate an untutored mind--unless indeed a mind untutored in the nonsense of the schools--but rather a very directly perceptive mind. and again what more reasonable (seeing that these people themselves were in the animal stage of evolution) than that they should pay great reverence to some ideal animal--first cousin or ancestor--who played an important part in their tribal existence, and make of this animal a totem emblem and a symbol of their common life? and, further still, what more natural than that when the tribe passed to some degree beyond the animal stage and began to realize a life more intelligent and emotional--more specially human in fact--than that of the beasts of the field, that it should then in its rituals and ceremonies throw off the beast-mask and pay reverence to the interior and more human spirit. rising to a more enlightened consciousness of its own intimate quality, and still deeply penetrated with the sense of its kinship to external nature, it would inevitably and perfectly logically credit the latter with an inner life and intelligence, more distinctly human than before. its religion in fact would become more 'anthropomorphic' instead of less so; and one sees that this is a process that is inevitable; and inevitable notwithstanding a certain parenthesis in the process, due to obvious elements in our 'civilization' and to the temporary and fallacious domination of a leaden-eyed so-called 'science.' according to this view the true evolution of religion and man's outlook on the world has proceeded not by the denial by man of his unity with the world, but by his seeing and understanding that unity more deeply. and the more deeply he understands himself the more certainly he will recognize in the external world a being or beings resembling himself. w. h. hudson--whose mind is certainly not of a quality to be jeered at--speaks of animism as "the projection of ourselves into nature: the sense and apprehension of an intelligence like our own, but more powerful, in all visible things"; and continues, "old as i am this same primitive faculty which manifested itself in my early boyhood, still persists, and in those early years was so powerful that i am almost afraid to say how deeply i was moved by it." ( ) nor will it be quite forgotten that shelley once said:-- the moveless pillar of a mountain's weight is active living spirit. every grain is sentient both in unity and part, and the minutest atom comprehends a world of loves and hatreds. ( ) far away and long ago, ch. xiii, p. . the tendency to animism and later to anthropomorphism is i say inevitable, and perfectly logical. but the great value of the work done by some of those investigators whom i have quoted has been to show that among quite primitive people (whose interior life and 'soul-sense' was only very feeble) their projections of intelligence into nature were correspondingly feeble. the reflections of themselves projected into the world beyond could not reach the stature of eternal 'gods,' but were rather of the quality of ephemeral phantoms and ghosts; and the ceremonials and creeds of that period are consequently more properly described as, magic than as religion. there have indeed been great controversies as to whether there has or has not been, in the course of religious evolution, a pre-animistic stage. probably of course human evolution in this matter must have been perfectly continuous from stages presenting the very feeblest or an absolutely deficient animistic sense to the very highest manifestations of anthropomorphism; but as there is a good deal of evidence to show that animals (notably dogs and horses) see ghosts, the inquiry ought certainly to be enlarged so far as to include the pre-human species. anyhow it must be remembered that the question is one of consciousness--that is, of how far and to what degree consciousness of self has been developed in the animal or the primitive man or the civilized man, and therefore how far and to what degree the animal or human creature has credited the outside world with a similar consciousness. it is not a question of whether there is an inner life and sub-consciousness common to all these creatures of the earth and sky, because that, i take it, is a fact beyond question; they all emerge or have emerged from the same matrix, and are rooted in identity; but it is a question of how far they are aware of this, and how far by separation (which is the genius of evolution) each individual creature has become conscious of the interior nature both of itself and of the other creatures and of the great whole which includes them all. finally, and to avoid misunderstanding, let me say that anthropomorphism, in man's conception of the gods, is itself of course only a stage and destined to pass away. in so far, that is, as the term indicates a belief in divine beings corresponding to our present conception of ourselves--that is as separate personalities having each a separate and limited character and function, and animated by the separatist motives of ambition, possession, power, vainglory, superiority, patronage, self-greed, self-satisfaction, etc.--in so far as anthropomorphism is the expression of that kind of belief it is of course destined, with the illusion from which it springs, to pass away. when man arrives at the final consciousness in which the idea of such a self, superior or inferior or in any way antagonistic to others, ceases to operate, then he will return to his first and primal condition, and will cease to need any special religion or gods, knowing himself and all his fellows to be divine and the origin and perfect fruition of all. vii. rites of expiation and redemption there is a passage in richard jefferies' imperishably beautiful book the story of my heart--a passage well known to all lovers of that prose-poet--in which he figures himself standing "in front of the royal exchange where the wide pavement reaches out like a promontory," and pondering on the vast crowd and the mystery of life. "is there any theory, philosophy, or creed," he says, "is there any system of culture, any formulated method, able to meet and satisfy each separate item of this agitated pool of human life? by which they may be guided, by which they may hope, by which look forward? not a mere illusion of the craving heart--something real, as real as the solid walls of fact against which, like seaweed, they are dashed; something to give each separate personality sunshine and a flower in its own existence now; something to shape this million-handed labor to an end and outcome that will leave more sunshine and more flowers to those who must succeed? something real now, and not in the spirit-land; in this hour now, as i stand and the sun burns.... full well aware that all has failed, yet, side by side with the sadness of that knowledge, there lives on in me an unquenchable belief, thought burning like the sun, that there is yet something to be found.... it must be dragged forth by the might of thought from the immense forces of the universe." in answer to this passage we may say "no,--a thousand times no! there is no theory, philosophy, creed, system or formulated method which will meet or ever satisfy the demand of each separate item of the human whirlpool." and happy are we to know there is no such thing! how terrible if one of these bloodless 'systems' which strew the history of religion and philosophy and the political and social paths of human endeavor had been found absolutely correct and universally applicable--so that every human being would be compelled to pass through its machine-like maw, every personality to be crushed under its juggernath wheels! no, thank heaven! there is no theory or creed or system; and yet there is something--as jefferies prophetically felt and with a great longing desired--that can satisfy; and that, the root of all religion, has been hinted at in the last chapter. it is the consciousness of the world-life burning, blazing, deep down within us: it is the soul's intuition of its roots in omnipresence and eternity. the gods and the creeds of the past, as shown in the last chapter--whatever they may have been, animistic or anthropomorphic or transcendental, whether grossly brutish or serenely ideal and abstract--are essentially projections of the human mind; and no doubt those who are anxious to discredit the religious impulse generally will catch at this, saying "yes, they are mere forms and phantoms of the mind, ephemeral dreams, projected on the background of nature, and having no real substance or solid value. the history of religion (they will say) is a history of delusion and illusion; why waste time over it? these divine grizzly bears or aesculapian snakes, these cat-faced pashts, this isis, queen of heaven, and astarte and baal and indra and agni and kali and demeter and the virgin mary and apollo and jesus christ and satan and the holy ghost, are only shadows cast outwards onto a screen; the constitution of the human mind makes them all tend to be anthropomorphic; but that is all; they each and all inevitably pass away. why waste time over them?" and this is in a sense a perfectly fair way of looking at the matter. these gods and creeds are only projections of the human mind. but all the same it misses, does this view, the essential fact. it misses the fact that there is no shadow without a fire, that the very existence of a shadow argues a light somewhere (though we may not directly see it) as well as the existence of a solid form which intercepts that light. deep, deep in the human mind there is that burning blazing light of the world-consciousness--so deep indeed that the vast majority of individuals are hardly aware of its existence. their gaze turned outwards is held and riveted by the gigantic figures and processions passing across their sky; they are unaware that the latter are only shadows--silhouettes of the forms inhabiting their own minds. ( ) the vast majority of people have never observed their own minds; their own mental forms. they have only observed the reflections cast by these. thus it may be said, in this matter, that there are three degrees of reality. there are the mere shadows--the least real and most evanescent; there are the actual mental outlines of humanity (and of the individual), much more real, but themselves also of course slowly changing; and most real of all, and permanent, there is the light "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world"--the glorious light of the world-consciousness. of this last it may be said that it never changes. every thing is known to it--even the very impediments to its shining. but as it is from the impediments to the shining of a light that shadows are cast, so we now may understand that the things of this world and of humanity, though real in their degree, have chiefly a kind of negative value; they are opaquenesses, clouds, materialisms, ignorances, and the inner light falling upon them gradually reveals their negative character and gradually dissolves them away till they are lost in the extreme and eternal splendor. i think jefferies, when he asked that question with which i have begun this chapter, was in some sense subconsciously, if not quite consciously, aware of the answer. his frequent references to the burning blazing sun throughout the story of the heart seem to be an indication of his real deep-down attitude of mind. ( ) see, in the same connection, plato's allegory of the cave, republic, book vii. the shadow-figures of the creeds and theogonies pass away truly like ephemeral dreams; but to say that time spent in their study is wasted, is a mistake, for they have value as being indications of things much more real than themselves, namely, of the stages of evolution of the human mind. the fact that a certain god-figure, however grotesque and queer, or a certain creed, however childish, cruel, and illogical, held sway for a considerable time over the hearts of men in any corner or continent of the world is good evidence that it represented a real formative urge at the time in the hearts of those good people, and a definite stage in their evolution and the evolution of humanity. certainly it was destined to pass away, but it was a step, and a necessary step in the great process; and certainly it was opaque and brutish, but it is through the opaque things of the world, and not through the transparent, that we become aware of the light. it may be worth while to give instances of how some early rituals and creeds, in themselves apparently barbarous or preposterous, were really the indications of important moral and social conceptions evolving in the heart of man. let us take, first, the religious customs connected with the ideas of sacrifice and of sin, of which such innumerable examples are now to be found in the modern books on anthropology. if we assume, as i have done more than once, that the earliest state of man was one in which he did not consciously separate himself from the world, animate and inanimate, which surrounded him, then (as i have also said) it was perfectly natural for him to take some animal which bulked large on his horizon--some food-animal for instance--and to pay respect to it as the benefactor of his tribe, its far-back ancestor and totem-symbol; or, seeing the boundless blessing of the cornfields, to believe in some kind of spirit of the corn (not exactly a god but rather a magical ghost) which, reincarnated every year, sprang up to save mankind from famine. but then no sooner had he done this than he was bound to perceive that in cutting down the corn or in eating his totem-bear or kangaroo he was slaying his own best self and benefactor. in that instant the consciousness of disunity, the sense of sin in some undefined yet no less disturbing and alarming form would come in. if, before, his ritual magic had been concentrated on the simple purpose of multiplying the animal or, vegetable forms of his food, now in addition his magical endeavor would be turned to averting the just wrath of the spirits who animated these forms--just indeed, for the rudest savage would perceive the wrong done and the probability of its retribution. clearly the wrong done could only be expiated by an equivalent sacrifice of some kind on the part of the man, or the tribe--that is by the offering to the totem-animal or to the corn-spirit of some victim whom these nature powers in their turn could feed upon and assimilate. in this way the nature-powers would be appeased, the sense of unity would be restored, and the first at-one-ment effected. it is hardly necessary to recite in any detail the cruel and hideous sacrifices which have been perpetrated in this sense all over the world, sometimes in appeasement of a wrong committed or supposed to have been committed by the tribe or some member of it, sometimes in placation or for the averting of death, or defeat, or plague, sometimes merely in fulfilment of some long-standing custom of forgotten origin--the flayings and floggings and burnings and crucifixions of victims without end, carried out in all deliberation and solemnity of established ritual. i have mentioned some cases connected with the sowing of the corn. the bible is full of such things, from the intended sacrifice of isaac by his father abraham, to the actual crucifixion of jesus by the jews. the first-born sons were claimed by a god who called himself "jealous" and were only to be redeemed by a substitute. ( ) of the canaanites it was said that "even their daughters they have burnt in the fire to their gods"; ( ) and of the king of moab, that when he saw his army in danger of defeat, "he took his eldest son that should have reigned in his stead and offered him for a burnt-offering on the wall!" ( ) dr. frazer ( ) mentions the similar case of the carthaginians (about b.c. ) sacrificing two hundred children of good family as a propitiation to baal and to save their beloved city from the assaults of the sicilian tyrant agathocles. and even so we hear that on that occasion three hundred more young folk volunteered to die for the fatherland. ( ) exodus xxxiv. . ( ) deut. xii. . ( ) kings iii. . ( ) the golden bough, vol. "the dying god," p. . the awful sacrifices made by the aztecs in mexico to their gods huitzilopochtli, texcatlipoca, and others are described in much detail by sahagun, the spanish missionary of the sixteenth century. the victims were mostly prisoners of war or young children; they were numbered by thousands. in one case sahagun describes the huge idol or figure of the god as largely plated with gold and holding his hands palm upward and in a downward sloping position over a cauldron or furnace placed below. the children, who had previously been borne in triumphal state on litters over the crowd and decorated with every ornamental device of feathers and flowers and wings, were placed one by one on the vast hands and rolled down into the flames--as if the god were himself offering them. ( ) as the procession approached the temple, the members of it wept and danced and sang, and here again the abundance of tears was taken for a good augury of rain. ( ) ( ) it is curious to find that exactly the same story (of the sloping hands and the children rolled down into the flames) is related concerning the above-mentioned baal image at carthage (see diodorus siculus, xx. ; also baring gould's religious belief, vol. i, p. ). ( ) "a los ninos que mataban, componianlos en muchos atavios para llevarlos al sacrificio, y llevabos en unas literas sobre los hombros, estas literas iban adornadas con plumages y con flores: iban tanendo, cantando y bailando delante de ellos... cuando ileviban los ninos a matar, si llevaban y echaban muchos lagrimas, alegrabansi los que los llevaban porque tomaban pronostico de que habian de tener muchas aguas en aquel ano." sahagun, historia nueva espana, bk. ii, ch. i. bernal diaz describes how he saw one of these monstrous figures--that of huitzilopochtli, the god of war, all inlaid with gold and precious stones; and beside it were "braziers, wherein burned the hearts of three indians, torn from their bodies that very day, and the smoke of them and the savor of incense were the sacrifice." sahagun again (in book ii, ch. ) gives a long account of the sacrifice of a perfect youth at easter-time--which date sabagun connects with the christian festival of the resurrection. for a whole year the youth had been held in honor and adored by the people as the very image of the god (tetzcatlipoca) to whom he was to be sacrificed. every luxury and fulfilment of his last wish (including such four courtesans as he desired) had been granted him. at the last and on the fatal day, leaving his companions and his worshipers behind, be slowly ascended the temple staircase; stripping on each step the ornaments from his body; and breaking and casting away his flutes and other musical instruments; till, reaching the summit, he was stretched, curved on his back, and belly upwards, over the altar stone, while the priest with obsidian knife cut his breast open and, snatching the heart out, held it up, yet beating, as an offering to the sun. in the meantime, and while the heart still lived, his successor for the next year was chosen. in book ii, ch. of the same work sahagun describes the similar offering of a woman to a goddess. in both cases (he explains) of young man or young woman, the victims were richly adorned in the guise of the god or goddess to whom they were offered, and at the same time great largesse of food was distributed to all who needed. (here we see the connection in the general mind between the gift of food (by the gods) and the sacrifice of precious blood (by the people).) more than once sahagun mentions that the victims in these mexican ceremonials not infrequently offered themselves as a voluntary sacrifice; and prescott says ( ) that the offering of one's life to the gods was "sometimes voluntarily embraced, as a most glorious death opening a sure passage into paradise." ( ) conquest of mexico, bk. i, ch. . dr. frazer describes ( ) the far-back babylonian festival of the sacaea in which "a prisoner, condemned to death, was dressed in the king's robes, seated on the king's throne, allowed to issue whatever commands he pleased, to eat, drink and enjoy himself, and even to lie with the king's concubines." but at the end of the five days he was stripped of his royal robes, scourged, and hanged or impaled. it is certainly astonishing to find customs so similar prevailing among peoples so far removed in space and time as the aztecs of the sixteenth century a.d. and the babylonians perhaps of the sixteenth century b.c. but we know that this subject of the yearly sacrifice of a victim attired as a king or god is one that dr. frazer has especially made his own, and for further information on it his classic work should be consulted. ( ) golden bough, "the dying god," p. . (see also s. reinach, cults, myths and religion, p. ) on the martyrdom of st. dasius. andrew lang also, with regard to the aztecs, quotes largely from sahagun, and summarizes his conclusions in the following passage: "the general theory of worship was the adoration of a deity, first by innumerable human sacrifices, next by the special sacrifice of a man for the male gods, of a woman for each goddess. ( ) the latter victims were regarded as the living images or incarnations of the divinities in, each case; for no system of worship carried farther the identification of the god with the sacrifice (? victim), and of both with the officiating pri connection was emphasized by the priests wearing the newly-flayed skins of the victims--just as in greece, egypt and assyria, the fawn-skin or bull-hide or goat-skin or fish-skin of the victims is worn by the celebrants. finally, an image of the god was made out of paste, and this was divided into morsels and eaten in a hideous sacrament by those who communicated." ( ) ( ) compare the festival of thargelia at athens, originally connected with the ripening of the crops. a procession was formed and the first fruits of the year offered to apollo, artemis and the horae. it was an expiatory feast, to purify the state from all guilt and avert the wrath of the god (the sun). a man and a woman, as representing the male and female population, were led about with a garland of figs (fertility) round their necks, to the sound of flutes and singing. they were then scourged, sacrificed, and their bodies burned by the seashore. (nettleship and sandys.) ( ) a lang, myth, ritual and religion, vol. ii, p. . revolting as this whole picture is, it represents as we know a mere thumbnail sketch of the awful practices of human sacrifice all over the world. we hold up our hands in horror at the thought of huitzilopochtli dropping children from his fingers into the flames, but we have to remember that our own most christian saint augustine was content to describe unbaptized infants as crawling for ever about the floor of hell! what sort of god, we may ask, did augustine worship? the being who could condemn children to such a fate was certainly no better than the mexican idol. and yet augustine was a great and noble man, with some by no means unworthy conceptions of the greatness of his god. in the same way the aztecs were in many respects a refined and artistic people, and their religion was not all superstition and bloodshed. prescott says of them ( ) that they believed in a supreme creator and lord "omnipresent, knowing all thoughts, giving all gifts, without whom man is as nothing--invisible, incorporeal, one god, of perfect perfection and purity, under whose wings we find repose and a sure defence." how can we reconcile st. augustine with his own devilish creed, or the religious belief of the aztecs with their unspeakable cruelties? perhaps we can only reconcile them by remembering out of what deeps of barbarism and what nightmares of haunting fear, man has slowly emerged--and is even now only slowly emerging; by remembering also that the ancient ceremonies and rituals of magic and fear remained on and were cultivated by the multitude in each nation long after the bolder and nobler spirits had attained to breathe a purer air; by remembering that even to the present day in each individual the old and the new are for a long period thus intricately intertangled. it is hard to believe that the practice of human and animal sacrifice (with whatever revolting details) should have been cultivated by nine-tenths of the human race over the globe out of sheer perversity and without some reason which at any rate to the perpetrators themselves appeared commanding and convincing. to-day ( ) we are witnessing in the great european war a carnival of human slaughter which in magnitude and barbarity eclipses in one stroke all the accumulated ceremonial sacrifices of historical ages; and when we ask the why and wherefore of this horrid spectacle we are told, apparently in all sincerity, and by both the parties engaged, of the noble objects and commanding moralities which inspire and compel it. we can hardly, in this last case, disbelieve altogether in the genuineness of the plea, so why should we do so in the former case? in both cases we perceive that underneath the surface pretexts and moralities fear is and was the great urging and commanding force. ( ) conquest of mexico, bk. i, ch. . the truth is that sin and sacrifice represent--if you once allow for the overwhelming sway of fear--perfectly reasonable views of human conduct, adopted instinctively by mankind since the earliest times. if in a moment of danger or an access of selfish greed you deserted your brother tribesman or took a mean advantage of him, you 'sinned' against him; and naturally you expiated the sin by an equivalent sacrifice of some kind made to the one you had wronged. such an idea and such a practice were the very foundation of social life and human morality, and must have sprung up as soon as ever, in the course of evolution, man became capable of differentiating himself from his fellows and regarding his own conduct as that of a 'separate self.' it was in the very conception of a separate self that 'sin' and disunity first began; and it was by 'sacrifice' that unity and harmony were restored, appeasement and atonement effected. but in those earliest times, as i have already indicated more than once, man felt himself intimately related not only to his brother tribesman, but to the animals and to general nature. it was not so much that he thought thus as that he never thought otherwise! he felt subconsciously that he was a part of all this outer world. and so he adopted for his totems or presiding spirits every possible animal, as we have seen, and all sorts of nature-phenomena, such as rain and fire and water and clouds, and sun, moon and stars--which we consider quite senseless and inanimate. towards these apparently senseless things therefore he felt the same compunction as i have described him feeling towards his brother tribesmen. he could sin against them too. he could sin against his totem-animal by eating it; he could sin against his 'brother the ox' by consuming its strength in the labor of the plough; he could sin against the corn by cutting it down and grinding it into flour, or against the precious and beautiful pine-tree by laying his axe to its roots and converting it into mere timber for his house. further still, no doubt he could sin against elemental nature. this might be more difficult to be certain of, but when the signs of elemental displeasure were not to be mistaken--when the rain withheld itself for months, or the storms and lightning dealt death and destruction, when the crops failed or evil plagues afflicted mankind--then there could be little uncertainty that he had sinned; and fear, which had haunted him like a demon from the first day when he became conscious of his separation from his fellows and from nature, stood over him and urged to dreadful propitiations. in all these cases some sacrifice in reparation was the obvious thing. we have seen that to atone for the cutting-down of the corn a human victim would often be slaughtered. the corn-spirit clearly approved of this, for wherever the blood and remains of the victim were strewn the corn always sprang up more plentifully. the tribe or human group made reparation thus to the corn; the corn-spirit signified approval. the 'sin' was expiated and harmony restored. sometimes the sacrifice was voluntarily offered by a tribesman; sometimes it was enforced, by lot or otherwise; sometimes the victim was a slave, or a captive enemy; sometimes even an animal. all that did not so much matter. the main thing was that the formal expiation had been carried out, and the wrath of the spirits averted. it is known that tribes whose chief food-animal was the bear felt it necessary to kill and cat a bear occasionally; but they could not do this without a sense of guilt, and some fear of vengeance from the great bear-spirit. so they ate the slain bear at a communal feast in which the tribesmen shared the guilt and celebrated their community with their totem and with each other. and since they could not make any reparation directly to the slain animal itself after its death, they made their reparation before, bringing all sorts of presents and food to it for a long anterior period, and paying every kind of worship and respect to it. the same with the bull and the ox. at the festival of the bouphonia, in some of the cities of greece as i have already mentioned, the actual bull sacrificed was the handsomest and most carefully nurtured that could be obtained; it was crowned with flowers and led in procession with every mark of reverence and worship. and when--as i have already pointed out--at the great spring festival, instead of a bull or a goat or a ram, a human victim was immolated, it was a custom (which can be traced very widely over the world) to feed and indulge and honor the victim to the last degree for a whole year before the final ceremony, arraying him often as a king and placing a crown upon his head, by way of acknowledgment of the noble and necessary work he was doing for the general good. what a touching and beautiful ceremony was that--belonging especially to the north of syria, and lands where the pine is so beneficent and beloved a tree--the mourning ceremony of the death and burial of attis! when a pine-tree, felled by the axe, was hollowed out, and in the hollow an image (often itself carved out of pinewood) of the young attis was placed. could any symbolism express more tenderly the idea that the glorious youth--who represented spring, too soon slain by the rude tusk of winter--was himself the very human soul of the pine-tree? ( ) at some earlier period, no doubt, a real youth had been sacrificed and his body bound within the pine; but now it was deemed sufficient for the maidens to sing their wild songs of lamentation; and for the priests and male enthusiasts to cut and gash themselves with knives, or to sacrifice (as they did) to the earth-mother the precious blood offering of their virile organs--symbols of fertility in return for the promised and expected renewal of nature and the crops in the coming spring. for the ceremony, as we have already seen, did not end with death and lamentation, but led on, perfectly naturally, after a day or two to a festival of resurrection, when it was discovered--just as in the case of osiris--that the pine-tree coffin was empty, and the immortal life had flown. how strange the similarity and parallelism of all these things to the story of jesus in the gospels--the sacrifice of a life made in order to bring salvation to men and expiation of sins, the crowning of the victim, and arraying in royal attire, the scourging and the mockery, the binding or nailing to a tree, the tears of mary, and the resurrection and the empty coffin!--or how not at all strange when we consider in what numerous forms and among how many peoples, this same parable and ritual had as a matter of fact been celebrated, and how it had ultimately come down to bring its message of redemption into a somewhat obscure syrian city, in the special shape with which we are familiar. ( ) see julius firmicus, who says (de errore, c. ): "in sacris phrygiis, quae matris deum dicunt, per annos singulos arbor pinea caeditur, et in media arbore simulacrum uvenis subligatur. in isiacis sacris de pinea arbore caeditur truncus; hujus trunci media pars subtiliter excavatur, illis de segminibus factum idolum osiridis sepelitur. in prosperpinae sacris caesa arbor in effigiem virginis formaraque componitur, et cum intra civitatem fuerit illata, quadraginta noctibus piangitur, quadragesima vero nocte comburitur." though the parable or legend in its special christian form bears with it the consciousness of the presence of beings whom we may call gods, it is important to remember that in many or most of its earlier forms, though it dealt in 'spirits'--the spirit of the corn, or the spirit of the spring, or the spirits of the rain and the thunder, or the spirits of totem-animals--it had not yet quite risen to the idea of gods. it had not risen to the conception of eternal deities sitting apart and governing the world in solemn conclave--as from the slopes of olympus or the recesses of the christian heaven. it belonged, in fact, in its inception, to the age of magic. the creed of sin and sacrifice, or of guilt and expiation--whatever we like to call it--was evolved perfectly naturally out of the human mind when brought face to face with life and nature) at some early stage of its self-consciousness. it was essentially the result of man's deep, original and instinctive sense of solidarity with nature, now denied and belied and to some degree broken up by the growth and conscious insistence of the self-regarding impulses. it was the consciousness of disharmony and disunity, causing men to feel all the more poignantly the desire and the need of reconciliation. it was a realization of union made clear by its very loss. it assumed of course, in a subconscious way as i have already indicated, that the external world was the habitat of a mind or minds similar to man's own; but that being granted, it is evident that the particular theories current in this or that place about the nature of the world--the theories, as we should say, of science or theology--did not alter the general outlines of the creed; they only colored its details and gave its ritual different dramatic settings. the mental attitudes, for instance, of abraham sacrificing the ram, or of the siberian angakout slaughtering a totem-bear, or of a modern and pious christian contemplating the saviour on the cross are really almost exactly the same. i mention this because in tracing the origins or the evolution of religions it is important to distinguish clearly what is essential and universal from that which is merely local and temporary. some people, no doubt, would be shocked at the comparisons just made; but surely it is much more inspiriting and encouraging to think that whatever progress has been made in the religious outlook of the world has come about through the gradual mental growth and consent of the peoples, rather than through some unique and miraculous event of a rather arbitrary and unexplained character--which indeed might never be repeated, and concerning which it would perhaps be impious to suggest that it should be repeated. the consciousness then of sin (or of alienation from the life of the whole), and of restoration or redemption through sacrifice, seems to have disclosed itself in the human race in very far-back times, and to have symbolized itself in some most ancient rituals; and if we are shocked sometimes at the barbarities which accompanied those rituals, yet we must allow that these barbarities show how intensely the early people felt the solemnity and importance of the whole matter; and we must allow too that the barbarities did sear and burn themselves into rude and ignorant minds with the sense of the need of sacrifice, and with a result perhaps which could not have been compassed in any other way. for after all we see now that sacrifice is of the very essence of social life. "it is expedient that one man should die for the people"; and not only that one man should actually die, but (what is far more important) that each man should be ready and willing to die in that cause, when the occasion and the need arises. taken in its larger meanings and implications sacrifice, as conceived in the ancient world, was a perfectly reasonable thing. it should pervade modern life more than it does. all we have or enjoy flows from, or is implicated with, pain and suffering in others, and--if there is any justice in nature or humanity--it demands an equivalent readiness to suffer on our part. if christianity has any real essence, that essence is perhaps expressed in some such ritual or practice of sacrifice, and we see that the dim beginnings of this idea date from the far-back customs of savages coming down from a time anterior to all recorded history. viii. pagan initiations and the second birth we have suggested in the last chapter how the conceptions of sin and sacrifice coming down to us from an extremely remote past, and embodied among the various peoples of the world sometimes in crude and bloodthirsty rites, sometimes in symbols and rituals of a gentler and more gracious character, descended at last into christianity and became a part of its creed and of the creed of the modern world. on the whole perhaps we may trace a slow amelioration in this process and may flatter ourselves that the christian centuries exhibit a more philosophical understanding of what sin is, and a more humane conception of what sacrifice should be, than the centuries preceding. but i fear that any very decided statement or sweeping generalization to that effect would be--to say the least--rash. perhaps there is a very slow amelioration; but the briefest glance at the history of the christian churches--the horrible rancours and revenges of the clergy and the sects against each other in the fourth and fifth centuries a.d., the heresy-hunting crusades at beziers and other places and the massacres of the albigenses in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the witch-findings and burnings of the sixteenth and seventeenth, the hideous science-urged and bishop-blessed warfare of the twentieth--horrors fully as great as any we can charge to the account of the aztecs or the babylonians--must give us pause. nor must we forget that if there is by chance a substantial amelioration in our modern outlook with regard to these matters the same had begun already before the advent of christianity and can by no means be ascribed to any miraculous influence of that religion. abraham was prompted to slay a ram as a substitute for his son, long before the christians were thought of; the rather savage artemis of the old greek rites was (according to pausanias) ( ) honored by the yearly sacrifice of a perfect boy and girl, but later it was deemed sufficient to draw a knife across their throats as a symbol, with the result of spilling only a few drops of their blood, or to flog the boys (with the same result) upon her altar. among the khonds in old days many victims (meriahs) were sacrificed to the gods, "but in time the man was replaced by a horse, the horse by a bull, the bull by a ram, the ram by a kid, the kid by fowls, and the fowls by many flowers." ( ) at one time, according to the yajur-veda, there was a festival at which one hundred and twenty-five victims, men and women, boys and girls, were sacrificed; "but reform supervened, and now the victims were bound as before to the stake, but afterwards amid litanies to the immolated (god) narayana, the sacrificing priest brandished a knife and--severed the bonds of the captives." ( ) at the athenian festival of the thargelia, to which i referred in the last chapter, it appears that the victims, in later times, instead of being slain, were tossed from a height into the sea, and after being rescued were then simply banished; while at leucatas a similar festival the fall of the victim was graciously broken by tying feathers and even living birds to his body. ( ) ( ) vii. , and iii. , . ( ) primitive folk, by elie reclus (contemp. science series), p. . ( ) ibid. ( ) muller's dorians book ii, ch. ii, par. . with the lapse of time and the general progress of mankind, we may, i think, perceive some such slow ameliorations in the matter of the brutality and superstition of the old religions. how far any later ameliorations were due to the direct influence of christianity might be a difficult question; but what i think we can clearly see--and what especially interests us here--is that in respect to its main religious ideas, and the matter underlying them (exclusive of the manner of their treatment, which necessarily has varied among different peoples) christianity is of one piece with the earlier pagan creeds and is for the most part a re-statement and renewed expression of world-wide doctrines whose first genesis is lost in the haze of the past, beyond all recorded history. i have illustrated this view with regard to the doctrine of sin and sacrifice. let us take two or three other illustrations. let us take the doctrine of re-birth or regeneration. the first few verses of st. john's gospel are occupied with the subject of salvation through rebirth or regeneration. "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god."... "except a man be born of water and the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of god." our baptismal service begins by saying that "forasmuch as all men are conceived and born in sin; and that our saviour christ saith, none can enter into the kingdom of god except he be regenerate and born anew of water and the holy ghost"; therefore it is desirable that this child should be baptized, "received into christ's holy church, and be made a lively member of the same." that, is to say, there is one birth, after the flesh, but a second birth is necessary, a birth after the spirit and into the church of christ. our confirmation service is simply a service repeating and confirming these views, at an age (fourteen to sixteen or so) when the boy or girl is capable of understanding what is being done. but our baptismal and confirmation ceremonies combined are clearly the exact correspondence and parallel of the old pagan ceremonies of initiation, which are or have been observed in almost every primitive tribe over the world. "the rite of the second birth," says jane harrison, ( ) "is widespread, universal, over half the savage world. with the savage to be twice-born is the rule. by his first birth he comes into the world; by his second he is born into his tribe. at his first birth he belongs to his mother and the women-folk; at his second he becomes a full-fledged man and passes into the society of the warriors of his tribe."... "these rites are very various, but they all point to one moral, that the former things are passed away and that the new-born man has entered upon a new life. simplest of all, and most instructive, is the rite practised by the kikuyu tribe of british east africa, who require that every boy, just before circumcision, must be born again. the mother stands up with the boy crouching at her feet; she pretends to go through all the labour pains, and the boy on being reborn cries like a babe and is washed." ( ) ( ) ancient art and ritual, p. . ( ) see also themis, p. . let us pause for a moment. an initiate is of course one who "enters in." he enters into the tribe; he enters into the revelation of certain mysteries; he becomes an associate of a certain totem, a certain god; a member of a new society, or church--a church of mithra, or dionysus or christ. to do any of these things he must be born again; he must die to the old life; he must pass through ceremonials which symbolize the change. one of these ceremonials is washing. as the new-born babe is washed, so must the new-born initiate be washed; and as by primitive man (and not without reason) blood was considered the most vital and regenerative of fluids, the very elixir of life, so in earliest times it was common to wash the initiate with blood. if the initiate had to be born anew, it would seem reasonable to suppose that he must first die. so, not unfrequently, he was wounded, or scourged, and baptized with his own blood, or, in cases, one of the candidates was really killed and his blood used as a substitute for the blood of the others. no doubt human sacrifice attended the earliest initiations. but later it was sufficient to be half-drowned in the blood of a bull as in the mithra cult, ( ) or 'washed in the blood of the lamb' as in the christian phraseology. finally, with a growing sense of decency and aesthetic perception among the various peoples, washing with pure water came in the initiation-ceremonies to take the place of blood; and our baptismal service has reduced the ceremony to a mere sprinkling with water. ( ) ( ) see ch. iii. ( ) for the virtue supposed to reside in blood see westermarck's moral ideas, ch. . to continue the quotation from miss harrison: "more often the new birth is stimulated, or imagined, as a death and a resurrection, either of the boys themselves or of some one else in their presence. thus at initiation among some tribes of south-east australia, when the boys are assembled an old man dressed in stringy bark-fibre lies down in a grave. he is covered up lightly with sticks and earth, and the grave is smoothed over. the buried man holds in his hand a small bush which seems to be growing from the ground, and other bushes are stuck in the ground round about. the novices are then brought to the edge of the grave and a song is sung. gradually, as the song goes on, the bush held by the buried man begins to quiver. it moves more and more, and bit by bit the man himself starts up from the grave." strange in our own baptismal service and just before the actual christening we read these words, "then shall the priest say: o merciful god, grant that old adam in this child may be so buried that the new man may be raised up in him: grant that all carnal affections may die in him, and that all things belonging to the spirit may live and grow in him!" can we doubt that the australian medicine-man, standing at the graveside of the re-arisen old black-fellow, pointed the same moral to the young initiates as the priest does to-day to those assembled before him in church--for indeed we know that among savage tribes initiations have always been before all things the occasions of moral and social teaching? can we doubt that he said, in substance if not in actual words: "as this man has arisen from the grave, so you must also arise from your old childish life of amusement and self-gratification and, enter into the life of the tribe, the life of the spirit of the tribe." "in totemistic societies," to quote miss harrison again, "and in the animal secret societies that seem to grow out of them, the novice is born again as the sacred animal. thus among the carrier indians ( ) when a man wants to become a lulem or 'bear,' however cold the season he tears off his clothes, puts on a bear-skin and dashes into the woods, where he will stay for three or four days. every night his fellow-villagers will go out in search parties to find him. they cry out yi! kelulem (come on, bear), and he answers with angry growls. usually they fail to find him, but he comes back at last himself. he is met, and conducted to the ceremonial lodge, and there in company with the rest of the bears dances solemnly his first appearance. disappearance and reappearance is as common a rite in initiation as stimulated killing and resurrection, and has the same object. both are rites of transition, of passing from one to another." in the christian ceremonies the boy or girl puts away childish things and puts on the new man, but instead of putting on a bear-skin he puts on christ. there is not so much difference as may appear on the surface. to be identified with your totem is to be identified with the sacred being who watches over your tribe, who has given his life for your tribe; it is to be born again, to be washed not only with water but with the holy spirit of all your fellows. to be baptized into christ ought to mean to be regenerated in the holy spirit of all humanity; and no doubt in cases it does mean this, but too often unfortunately it has only amounted to a pretence of religious sanction given to the meanest and bitterest quarrels of the churches and the states. ( ) golden bough, section , iii, p. . this idea of a new birth at initiation explains the prevalent pagan custom of subjecting the initiates to serious ordeals, often painful and even dangerous. if one is to be born again, obviously one must be ready to face death; the one thing cannot be without the other. one must be able to endure pain, like the red indian braves; to go long periods fasting and without food or drink, like the choupan among the western inoits--who, wanders for whole nights over the ice-fields under the moon, scantily clothed and braving the intense cold; to overcome the very fear of death and danger, like the australian novices who, at first terrified by the sound of the bull-roarer and threats of fire and the knife, learn finally to cast their fears away. ( ) by so doing one puts off the old childish things, and qualifies oneself by firmness and courage to become a worthy member of the society into which one is called. ( ) the rules of social life are taught--the duty to one's tribe, and to oneself, truth-speaking, defence of women and children, the care of cattle, the meaning of sex and marriage, and even the mysteries of such religious ideas and rudimentary science as the tribe possesses. and by so doing one really enters into a new life. things of the spiritual world begin to dawn. julius firmicus, in describing the mysteries of the resurrection of osiris, ( ) says that when the worshipers had satiated themselves with lamentations over the death of the god then the priest would go round anointing them with oil and whispering, "be of good cheer, o neophytes of the new-arisen god, for to us too from our pains shall come salvation." ( ) ( ) according to accounts of the wiradthuri tribe of western australia, in their initiations, the lads were frightened by a large fire being lighted near them, and hearing the awful sound of the bull-roarers, while they were told that dhuramoolan was about to burn them; the legend being that dhuramoolan, a powerful being, whose voice sounded like thunder, would take the boys into the bush and instruct them in all the laws, traditions and customs of the community. so he pretended that he always killed the boys, cut them up, and burnt them to ashes, after which he moulded the ashes into human shape, and restored them to life as new beings. (see r. h. matthews, "the wiradthuri tribes," journal anthrop. inst., vol. xxv, , pp. sq.) ( ) see catlin's north-american indians, vol. i, for initiations and ordeals among the mandans. ( ) de errore, c. . ( ) [gr qarreite, mustai ton qeou seswsmenou,] [gr estai gar hmin ek ponwn swthria.] it would seem that at some very early time in the history of tribal and priestly initiations an attempt was made to impress upon the neophytes the existence and over-shadowing presence of spiritual and ghostly beings. perhaps the pains endured in the various ordeals, the long fastings, the silences in the depth of the forests or on the mountains or among the ice-floes, helped to rouse the visionary faculty. the developments of this faculty among the black and colored peoples--east-indian, burmese, african, american-indian, etc.--are well known. miss alice fletcher, who lived among the omaha indians for thirty years, gives a most interesting account ( ) of the general philosophy of that people and their rites of initiation. "the omahas regard all animate and inanimate forms, all phenomena, as pervaded by a common life, which was continuous with and similar to the will-power they were conscious of in themselves. this mysterious power in all things they called wakonda, and through it all things were related to man and to each other. in the idea of the continuity of life a relation was maintained between the seen and the unseen, the dead and the living, and also between the fragment of anything and its entirety." ( ) thus an omaha novice might at any time seek to obtain wakonda by what was called the rite of the vision. he would go out alone, fast, chant incantations, and finally fall into a trance (much resembling what in modern times has been called cosmic consciousness) in which he would perceive the inner relations of all things and the solidarity of the least object with the rest of the universe. ( ) summarized in themis, pp. - . ( ) a. c. fletcher, the significance of the scalp-lock, journal of anthropological studies, xxvii ( - ), p. . another rite in connection with initiation, and common all over the pagan world--in greece, america, africa, australia, new mexico, etc.--was the daubing of the novice all over with clay or chalk or even dung, and then after a while removing the same. ( ) the novice must have looked a sufficiently ugly and uncomfortable object in this state; but later, when he was thoroughly washed, the ceremony must have afforded a thrilling illustration of the idea of a new birth, and one which would dwell in the minds of the spectators. when the daubing was done as not infrequently happened with white clay or gypsum, and the ritual took place at night, it can easily be imagined that the figures of young men and boys moving about in the darkness would lend support to the idea that they were spirits belonging to some intermediate world--who had already passed through death and were now waiting for their second birth on earth (or into the tribe) which would be signalized by their thorough and ceremonial washing. it will be remembered that herodotus (viii) gives a circumstantial account of how the phocians in a battle with the thessalians smeared six hundred of their bravest warriors with white clay so that, looking like supernatural beings, and falling upon the thessalians by night, they terrified the latter and put them to instant flight. ( ) see a. lang's myth, ritual and religion, i, sq. such then--though only very scantily described--were some of the rites of initiation and second birth celebrated in the old pagan world. the subject is far too large for adequate treatment within the present limits; but even so we cannot but be struck by the appropriateness in many cases of the teaching thus given to the young, the concreteness of the illustrations, the effectiveness of the symbols used, the dramatic character of the rites, the strong enforcement of lessons on the nature and duties of the life into which the candidates were about to enter. christianity followed on, and inherited these traditions, but one feels that in its ceremonies of baptism and confirmation, which of course correspond to the pagan initiations, it falls short of the latter. its ceremonies (certainly as we have them to-day in protestant countries) are of a very milk-and-watery character; all allusion to and teaching on the immensely important subject of sex is omitted, the details of social and industrial morality are passed by, and instruction is limited to a few rather commonplace lessons in general morality and religion. it may be appropriate here, before leaving the subject of the second birth, to inquire how it has come about that this doctrine--so remote and metaphysical as it might appear--has been taken up and embodied in their creeds and rituals by quite primitive people all over the world, to such a degree indeed that it has ultimately been adopted and built into the foundations of the latter and more intellectual religions, like hinduism, mithraism, and the egyptian and christian cults. i think the answer to this question must be found in the now-familiar fact that the earliest peoples felt themselves so much a part of nature and the animal and vegetable world around them that (whenever they thought about these matters at all) they never for a moment doubted that the things which were happening all round them in the external world were also happening within themselves. they saw the sun, overclouded and nigh to death in winter, come to its birth again each year; they saw the vegetation shoot forth anew in spring--the revival of the spirit of the earth; the endless breeding of the animals, the strange transformations of worms and insects; the obviously new life taken on by boys and girls at puberty; the same at a later age when the novice was transformed into the medicine-man--the choupan into the angakok among the esquimaux, the dacotah youth into the wakan among the red indians; and they felt in their sub-conscious way the same everlasting forces of rebirth and transformation working within themselves. in some of the greek mysteries the newly admitted initiates were fed for some time after on milk only "as though we were being born again." (see sallustius, quoted by gilbert murray.) when sub-conscious knowledge began to glimmer into direct consciousness one of the first aspects (and no doubt one of the truest) under which people saw life was just thus: as a series of rebirths and transformations. ( ) the most modern science, i need hardly say, in biology as well as in chemistry and the field of inorganic nature, supports that view. the savage in earliest times felt the truth of some things which we to-day are only beginning intellectually to perceive and analyze. ( ) the fervent and widespread belief in animal metamorphoses among early peoples is well known. christianity adopted and absorbed--as it was bound to do--this world-wide doctrine of the second birth. passing over its physiological and biological applications, it gave to it a fine spiritual significance--or rather it insisted especially on its spiritual significance, which (as we have seen) had been widely recognized before. only--as i suppose must happen with all local religions--it narrowed the application and outlook of the doctrine down to a special case--"as in adam all die, so in christ shall all be made alive." the universal spirit which can give rebirth and salvation to every child of man to whom it comes, was offered only under a very special form--that of jesus christ. ( ) in this respect it was no better than the religions which preceded it. in some respects--that is, where it was especially fanatical, blinkered, and hostile to other sects--it was worse. but to those who perceive that the great spirit may bring new birth and salvation to some under the form of osiris, equally well as to others under the form of jesus, or again to some under the form of a siberian totem-bear equally as to others under the form of osiris, these questionings and narrowings fall away as of no importance. we in this latter day can see the main thing, namely that christianity was and is just one phase of a world-old religion, slowly perhaps expanding its scope, but whose chief attitudes and orientations have been the same through the centuries. ( ) the same happened with regard to another great pagan doctrine (to which i have just alluded), the doctrine of transformations and metamorphoses; and whereas the pagans believed in these things, as the common and possible heritage of every man, the christians only allowed themselves to entertain the idea in the special and unique instance of the transfiguration of christ. many other illustrations might be taken of the truth of this view, but i will confine myself to two or three more. there is the instance of the eucharist and its exceedingly widespread celebration (under very various forms) among the pagans all over the world--as well as among christians. i have already said enough on this subject, and need not delay over it. by partaking of the sacramental meal, even in its wildest and crudest shapes, as in the mysteries of dionysus, one was identified with and united to the god; in its milder and more spiritual aspects as in the mithraic, egyptian, hindu and christian cults, one passed behind the veil of maya and this ever-changing world, and entered into the region of divine peace and power. ( ) ( ) baring gould in his orig. relig. belief, i. , says:--"among the ancient hindus soma was a chief deity; he is called the giver of life and health.... he became incarnate among men, was taken by them and slain, and brayed in a mortar (a god of corn and wine apparently). but he rose in flame to heaven to be 'the benefactor of the world' and the 'mediator between god and man!' through communion with him in his sacrifice, man (who partook of this god) has an assurance of immortality, for by that sacrament he obtains union with his divinity." or again the doctrine of the saviour. that also is one on which i need not add much to what has been said already. the number of pagan deities (mostly virgin-born and done to death in some way or other in their efforts to save mankind) is so great ( ) as to be difficult to keep account of. the god krishna in india, the god indra in nepaul and thibet, spilt their blood for the salvation of men; buddha said, according to max muller, ( ) "let all the sins that were in the world fall on me, that the world may be delivered"; the chinese tien, the holy one--"one with god and existing with him from all eternity"--died to save the world; the egyptian osiris was called saviour, so was horus; so was the persian mithras; so was the greek hercules who overcame death though his body was consumed in the burning garment of mortality, out of which he rose into heaven. so also was the phrygian attis called saviour, and the syrian tammuz or adonis likewise--both of whom, as we have seen, were nailed or tied to a tree, and afterwards rose again from their biers, or coffins. prometheus, the greatest and earliest benefactor of the human race, was nailed by the hands and feet, and with arms extended, to the rocks of mount caucasus. bacchus or dionysus, born of the virgin semele to be the liberator of mankind (dionysus eleutherios as he was called), was torn to pieces, not unlike osiris. even in far mexico quetzalcoatl, the saviour, was born of a virgin, was tempted, and fasted forty days, was done to death, and his second coming looked for so eagerly that (as is well known) when cortes appeared, the mexicans, poor things, greeted him as the returning god! ( ) in peru and among the american indians, north and south of the equator, similar legends are, or were, to be found. ( ) see for a considerable list doane's bible myths, ch. xx. ( ) hist. sanskrit literature, p. . ( ) see kingsborough, mexican antiquities, vol. vi. briefly sketched as all this is, it is enough to prove quite abundantly that the doctrine of the saviour is world-wide and world-old, and that christianity merely appropriated the same and (as the other cults did) gave it a special color. probably the wide range of this doctrine would have been far better and more generally known, had not the christian church, all through, made the greatest of efforts and taken the greatest precautions to extinguish and snuff out all evidence of pagan claims on the subject. there is much to show that the early church took this line with regard to pre-christian saviours; ( ) and in later times the same policy is remarkably illustrated by the treatment in the sixteenth century of the writings of sahagun the spanish missionary--to whose work i have already referred. sahagun was a wonderfully broad-minded and fine man who, while he did not conceal the barbarities of the aztec religion, was truthful enough to point out redeeming traits in the manners and customs of the people and some resemblances to christian doctrine and practice. this infuriated the bigoted catholics of the newly formed mexican church. they purloined the manuscripts of sahagun's historia and scattered and hid them about the country, and it was only after infinite labor and an appeal to the spanish court that he got them together again. finally, at the age of eighty, having translated them into spanish (from the original mexican) he sent them in two big volumes home to spain for safety; but there almost immediately they disappeared, and could not be found! it was only after two centuries that they ultimately turned up ( ) in a convent at tolosa in navarre. lord kingsborough published them in england in . ( ) see tertullian's apologia, c. ; ad nationes, c. xii. i have thus dwelt upon several of the main doctrines of christianity--namely, those of sin and sacrifice, the eucharist, the saviour, the second birth, and transfiguration--as showing that they are by no means unique in our religion, but were common to nearly all the religions of the ancient world. the list might be much further extended, but there is no need to delay over a subject which is now very generally understood. i will, however, devote a page or two to one instance, which i think is very remarkable, and full of deep suggestion. there is no doctrine in christianity which is more reverenced by the adherents of that religion, or held in higher estimation, than that god sacrificed his only son for the salvation of the world; also that since the son was not only of like nature but of the same nature with the father, and equal to him as being the second person of the divine trinity, the sacrifice amounted to an immolation of himself for the good of mankind. the doctrine is so mystical, so remote, and in a sense so absurd and impossible, that it has been a favorite mark through the centuries for the ridicule of the scoffers and enemies of the church; and here, it might easily be thought, is a belief which--whether it be considered glorious or whether contemptible--is at any rate unique, and peculiar to that church. and yet the extraordinary fact is that a similar belief ranges all through the ancient religions, and can be traced back to the earliest times. the word host which is used in the catholic mass for the bread and wine on the altar, supposed to be the transubstantiated body and blood of christ, is from the latin hostia which the dictionary interprets as "an animal slain in sacrifice, a sin-offering." it takes us far far back to the totem stage of folk-life, when the tribe, as i have already explained, crowned a victim-bull or bear or other animal with flowers, and honoring it with every offering of food and worship, sacrificed the victim to the totem spirit of the tribe, and consumed it in an eucharistic feast--the medicine-man or priest who conducted the ritual wearing a skin of the same beast as a sign that he represented the totem-divinity, taking part in the sacrifice of 'himself to himself.' it reminds us of the khonds of bengal sacrificing their meriahs crowned and decorated as gods and goddesses; of the aztecs doing the same; of quetzalcoatl pricking his elbows and fingers so as to draw blood, which he offered on his own altar; or of odin hanging by his own desire upon a tree. "i know i was hanged upon a tree shaken by the winds for nine long nights. i was transfixed by a spear; i was moved to odin, myself to myself." and so on. the instances are endless. "i am the oblation," says the lord krishna in the bhagavad gita, ( ) "i am the sacrifice, i the ancestral offering." "in the truly orthodox conception of sacrifice," says elie reclus, ( ) "the consecrated offering, be it man, woman or virgin, lamb or heifer, cock or dove, represents the deity himself.... brahma is the 'imperishable sacrifice'; indra, soma, hari and the other gods, became incarnate in animals to the sole end that they might be immolated. perusha, the universal being, caused himself to be slain by the immortals, and from his substance were born the birds of the air, wild and domestic animals, the offerings of butter and curds. the world, declared the rishis, is a series of sacrifices disclosing other sacrifices. to stop them would be to suspend the life of nature. the god siva, to whom the tipperahs of bengal are supposed to have sacrificed as many as a thousand human victims a year, said to the brahamins: 'it is i that am the actual offering; it is i that you butcher upon my altars.'" ( ) ch. ix, v. . ( ) primitive folk, ch. vi. it was in allusion to this doctrine that r. w. emerson, paraphrasing the katha-upanishad, wrote that immortal verse of his:-- if the red slayer thinks he slays, or the slain thinks he is slain, they know not well the subtle ways i take, and pass, and turn again. i say it is an astonishing thing to think and realize that this profound and mystic doctrine of the eternal sacrifice of himself, ordained by the great spirit for the creation and salvation of the world--a doctrine which has attracted and fascinated many of the great thinkers and nobler minds of europe, which has also inspired the religious teachings of the indian sages and to a less philosophical degree the writings of the christian saints--should have been seized in its general outline and essence by rude and primitive people before the dawn of history, and embodied in their rites and ceremonials. what is the explanation of this fact? it is very puzzling. the whole subject is puzzling. the world-wide adoption of similar creeds and rituals (and, we may add, legends and fairy tales) among early peoples, and in far-sundered places and times is so remarkable that it has given the students of these subjects 'furiously to think' ( )--yet for the most part without great success in the way of finding a solution. the supposition that ( ) the creed, rite or legend in question has sprung up, so to speak, accidentally, in one place, and then has travelled (owing to some inherent plausibility) over the rest of the world, is of course one that commends itself readily at first; but on closer examination the practical difficulties it presents are certainly very great. these include the migrations of customs and myths in quite early ages of the earth across trackless oceans and continents, and between races and peoples absolutely incapable of understanding each other. and if to avoid these difficulties it is assumed that the present human race all proceeds from one original stock which radiating from one centre--say in south-eastern asia ( )--overspread the world, carrying its rites and customs with it, why, then we are compelled to face the difficulty of supposing this radiation to have taken place at an enormous time ago (the continents being then all more or less conjoined) and at a period when it is doubtful if any religious rites and customs at all existed; not to mention the further difficulty of supposing all the four or five hundred languages now existing to be descended from one common source. the far tradition of the island of atlantis seems to afford a possible explanation of the community of rites and customs between the old and new world, and this without assuming in any way that atlantis (if it existed) was the original and sole cradle of the human race. ( ) anyhow it is clear that these origins of human culture must be of extreme antiquity, and that it would not be wise to be put off the track of the investigation of a possible common source merely by that fact of antiquity. ( ) see a. lang's myth, ritual and religion, vol. ii. ( ) see hastings, encycl. religion and ethics, art. "ethnology." ( ) e. j. payne, history of the new world called america (vol. i, p. ) says: "it is certain that europe and america once formed a single continent," but inroads of the sea "left a vast island or peninsula stretching from iceland to the azores--which gradually disappeared." also he speaks (i. ) of the "miocene bridge" between siberia and the new world. a second supposition, however, is ( ) that the natural psychological evolution of the human mind has in the various times and climes led folk of the most diverse surroundings and heredity--and perhaps even sprung from separate anthropoid stocks--to develop their social and religious ideas along the same general lines--and that even to the extent of exhibiting at times a remarkable similarity in minute details. this is a theory which commends itself greatly to a deeper and more philosophical consideration; but it brings us up point-blank against another most difficult question (which we have already raised), namely, how to account for extremely rude and primitive peoples in the far past, and on the very borderland of the animal life, having been susceptible to the germs of great religious ideas (such as we have mentioned) and having been instinctively--though not of course by any process of conscious reasoning--moved to express them in symbols and rites and ceremonials, and (later no doubt) in myths and legends, which satisfied their feelings and sense of fitness--though they may not have known why--and afterwards were capable of being taken up and embodied in the great philosophical religions. this difficulty almost compels us to a view of human knowledge which has found supporters among some able thinkers--the view, namely, that a vast store of knowledge is already contained in the subconscious mind of man (and the animals) and only needs the provocation of outer experience to bring it to the surface; and that in the second stage of human psychology this process of crude and piecemeal externalization is taking place, in preparation for the final or third stage in which the knowledge will be re-absorbed and become direct and intuitional on a high and harmonious plane--something like the present intuition of the animals as we perceive it on the animal plane. however this general subject is one on which i shall touch again, and i do not propose to dwell on it at any length now. there is a third alternative theory ( )--a combination of ( ) and ( )--namely, that if one accepts ( ) and the idea that at any given stage of human development there is a predisposition to certain symbols and rites belonging to that stage, then it is much more easy to accept theory ( ) as an important factor in the spread of such symbols and rites; for clearly, then, the smallest germ of a custom or practice, transported from one country or people to another at the right time, would be sufficient to wake the development or growth in question and stimulate it into activity. it will be seen, therefore, that the important point towards the solution of this whole puzzling question is the discussion, of theory ( )--and to this theory, as illustrated by the world-wide myth of the golden age, i will now turn. ix. myth of the golden age the tradition of a "golden age" is widespread over the world, and it is not necessary to go at any length into the story of the garden of eden and the other legends which in almost every country illustrate this tradition. without indulging in sentiment on the subject we may hold it not unlikely that the tradition is justified by the remembrance, among the people of every race, of a pre-civilization period of comparative harmony and happiness when two things, which to-day we perceive to be the prolific causes of discord and misery, were absent or only weakly developed--namely, property and self-consciousness. ( ) ( ) for a fuller working out of this, see civilisation: its cause and cure, by e. carpenter, ch. i. during the first century b.c. there was a great spread of messianic ideas over the roman world, and virgil's th eclogue, commonly called the messianic eclogue, reflects very clearly this state of the public mind. the expected babe in the poem was to be the son of octavian (augustus) the first roman emperor, and a messianic halo surrounded it in virgil's verse. unfortunately it turned out to be a girl! however there is little doubt that virgil did--in that very sad age of the world, an age of "misery and massacre," and in common with thousands of others--look for the coming of a great 'redeemer.' it was only a few years earlier--about b.c. --that the great revolt of the shamefully maltreated roman slaves occurred, and that in revenge six thousand prisoners from spartacus' army were nailed on crosses all the way from rome to capua ( miles). but long before this hesiod had recorded a past golden age when life had been gracious in communal fraternity and joyful in peace, when human beings and animals spoke the same language, when death had followed on sleep, without old age or disease, and after death men had moved as good daimones or genii over the lands. pindar, three hundred years after hesiod, had confirmed the existence of the islands of the blest, where the good led a blameless, tearless, life. plato the same, ( ) with further references to the fabled island of atlantis; the egyptians believed in a former golden age under the god r[a^] to which they looked back with regret and envy; the persians had a garden of eden similar to that of the hebrews; the greeks a garden of the hesperides, in which dwelt the serpent whose head was ultimately crushed beneath the heel of hercules; and so on. the references to a supposed far-back state of peace and happiness are indeed numerous. ( ) see arts. by margaret scholes, socialist review, nov. and dec. . so much so that latterly, and partly to explain their prevalence, a theory has been advanced which may be worth while mentioning. it is called the "theory of intra-uterine blessedness," and, remote as it may at first appear, it certainly has some claim for attention. the theory is that in the minds of mature people there still remain certain vague memories of their pre-natal days in the maternal womb--memories of a life which, though full of growing vigor and vitality, was yet at that time one of absolute harmony with the surroundings, and of perfect peace and contentment, spent within the body of the mother--the embryo indeed standing in the same relation to the mother as st. paul says we stand to god, "in whom we live and move and have our being"; and that these vague memories of the intra-uterine life in the individual are referred back by the mature mind to a past age in the life of the race. though it would not be easy at present to positively confirm this theory, yet one may say that it is neither improbable nor unworthy of consideration; also that it bears a certain likeness to the former ones about the eden-gardens, etc. the well-known parallelism of the individual history with the race-history, the "recapitulation" by the embryo of the development of the race, does in fact afford an additional argument for its favorable reception. these considerations, and what we have said so often in the foregoing chapters about the unity of the animals (and early man) with nature, and their instinctive and age-long adjustment to the conditions of the world around them, bring us up hard and fast against the following conclusions, which i think we shall find difficult to avoid. we all recognize the extraordinary grace and beauty, in their different ways, of the (wild) animals; and not only their beauty but the extreme fitness of their actions and habits to their surroundings--their subtle and penetrating intelligence in fact. only we do not generally use the word "intelligence." we use another word (instinct)--and rightly perhaps, because their actions are plainly not the result of definite self-conscious reasoning, such as we use, carried out by each individual; but are (as has been abundantly proved by samuel butler and others) the systematic expression of experiences gathered up and sorted out and handed down from generation to generation in the bosom of the race--an intelligence in fact, or insight, of larger subtler scope than the other, and belonging to the tribal or racial being rather than to the isolated individual--a super-consciousness in fact, ramifying afar in space and time. but if we allow (as we must) this unity and perfection of nature, and this somewhat cosmic character of the mind, to exist among the animals, we can hardly refuse to believe that there must have been a period when man, too, hardly as yet differentiated from them, did himself possess these same qualities--perhaps even in greater degree than the animals--of grace and beauty of body, perfection of movement and action, instinctive perception and knowledge (of course in limited spheres); and a period when he possessed above all a sense of unity with his fellows and with surrounding nature which became the ground of a common consciousness between himself and his tribe, similar to that which maeterlinck, in the case of the bees, calls the spirit of the hive. ( ) it would be difficult, nay impossible, to suppose that human beings on their first appearance formed an entire exception in the process of evolution, or that they were completely lacking in the very graces and faculties which we so admire in the animals--only of course we see that (like the animals) they would not be self-conscious in these matters, and what perception they had of their relations to each other or to the world around them would be largely inarticulate and sub-conscious--though none the less real for that. ( ) see the life of the bee by maurice maeterlinck; and for numerous similar cases among other animals, p. kropotkin's mutual aid: a factor in evolution. let us then grant this preliminary assumption--and it clearly is not a large or hazardous one--and what follows? it follows--since to-day discord is the rule, and man has certainly lost the grace, both physical and mental, of the animals--that at some period a break must have occurred in the evolution-process, a discontinuity--similar perhaps to that which occurs in the life of a child at the moment when it is born into the world. humanity took a new departure; but a departure which for the moment was signalized as a loss--the loss of its former harmony and self-adjustment. and the cause or accompaniment of this change was the growth of self-consciousness. into the general consciousness of the tribe (in relation to its environment) which in fact had constituted the mentality of the animals and of man up to this stage, there now was intruded another kind of consciousness, a consciousness centering round each little individual self and concerned almost entirely with the interests of the latter. here was evidently a threat to the continuance of the former happy conditions. it was like the appearance of innumerable little ulcers in a human body--a menace which if continued would inevitably lead to the break-up of the body. it meant loss of tribal harmony and nature-adjustment. it meant instead of unity a myriad conflicting centres; it meant alienation from the spirit of the tribe, the separation of man from man, discord, recrimination, and the fatal unfolding of the sense of sin. the process symbolized itself in the legend of the fall. man ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. sometimes people wonder why knowledge of any kind--and especially the knowledge of good and evil--should have brought a curse. but the reason is obvious. into, the placid and harmonious life of the animal and human tribes fulfilling their days in obedience to the slow evolutions and age-long mandates of nature, self-consciousness broke with its inconvenient and impossible query: "how do these arrangements suit me? are they good for me, are they evil for me? i want to know. i will know!" evidently knowledge (such knowledge as we understand by the word) only began, and could only begin, by queries relating to the little local self. there was no other way for it to begin. knowledge and self-consciousness were born, as twins, together. knowledge therefore meant sin ( ); for self-consciousness meant sin (and it means sin to-day). sin is separation. that is probably (though disputed) the etymology of the word--that which sunders. ( ) the essence of sin is one's separation from the whole (the tribe or the god) of which one is a part. and knowledge--which separates subject from object, and in its inception is necessarily occupied with the 'good and evil' of the little local self, is the great engine of this separation. (mark! i say nothing against this association of self-consciousness with 'sin' (so-called) and 'knowledge' (so-called). the growth of all three together is an absolutely necessary part of human evolution, and to rail against it would be absurd. but we may as well open our eyes and see the fact straight instead of blinking it.) the culmination of the process and the fulfilment of the 'curse' we may watch to-day in the towering expansion of the self-conscious individualized intellect--science as the handmaid of human greed devastating the habitable world and destroying its unworthy civilization. and the process must go on--necessarily must go on--until self-consciousness, ceasing its vain quest (vain in both senses) for the separate domination of life, surrenders itself back again into the arms of the mother-consciousness from which it originally sprang--surrenders itself back, not to be merged in nonentity, but to be affiliated in loving dependence on and harmony with the cosmic life. ( ) compare also other myths, like cupid and psyche, lohengrin etc., in which a fatal curiosity leads to tragedy. ( ) german sunde, sin, and sonder, separated; dutch zonde, sin; latin sons, guilty. not unlikely that the german root suhn, expiation, is connected; suhn-bock, a scape-goat. all this i have dealt with in far more detail in civilization: its cause and cure, and in the art of creation; but i have only repeated the outline of it as above, because some such outline is necessary for the proper ordering and understanding of the points which follow. we are not concerned now with the ultimate effects of the 'fall' of man or with the present-day fulfilment of the eden-curse. what we want to understand is how the 'fall' into self-consciousness led to that great panorama of ritual and religion which we have very briefly described and summarized in the preceding chapters of this book. we want for the present to fix our attention on the commencement of that process by which man lapsed away from his living community with nature and his fellows into the desert of discord and toil, while the angels of the flaming sword closed the gates of paradise behind him. it is evident i think that in that 'golden' stage when man was simply the crown and perfection of the animals--and it is hardly possible to refuse the belief in such a stage--he possessed in reality all the essentials of religion. ( ) it is not necessary to sentimentalize over him; he was probably raw and crude in his lusts of hunger and of sex; he was certainly ignorant and superstitious; he loved fighting with and persecuting 'enemies' (which things of course all religions to-day--except perhaps the buddhist--love to do); he was dominated often by unreasoning fear, and was consequently cruel. yet he was full of that faith which the animals have to such an admirable degree--unhesitating faith in the inner promptings of his own nature; he had the joy which comes of abounding vitality, springing up like a fountain whose outlet is free and unhindered; he rejoiced in an untroubled and unbroken sense of unity with his tribe, and in elaborate social and friendly institutions within its borders; he had a marvelous sense-acuteness towards nature and a gift in that direction verging towards "second-sight"; strengthened by a conviction--which had never become conscious because it had never been questioned--of his own personal relation to the things outside him, the earth, the sky, the vegetation, the animals. of such a man we get glimpses in the far past--though indeed only glimpses, for the simple reason that all our knowledge of him comes through civilized channels; and wherever civilization has touched these early peoples it has already withered and corrupted them, even before it has had the sense to properly observe them. it is sufficient, however, just to mention peoples like some of the early pacific islanders, the zulus and kafirs of south africa, the fans of the congo region (of whom winwood reade ( ) speaks so highly), some of the malaysian and himalayan tribes, the primitive chinese, and even the evidence with regard to the neolithic peoples of europe, ( ) in order to show what i mean. ( ) see s. reinach, cults, myths, etc., introduction: "the primitive life of humanity, in so far as it is not purely animal, is religious. religion is the parent stem which has thrown off, one by one, art, agriculture, law, morality, politics, etc." ( ) savage africa, ch. xxxvii. ( ) see kropotkin's mutual aid, ch. iii. perhaps one of the best ideas of the gulf of difference between the semi-civilized and the quite primal man is given by a. r. wallace in his life (vol. i, p. ): "a most unexpected sensation of surprise and delight was my first meeting and living with man in a state of nature with absolute uncontaminated savages! this was on the uaupes river.... they were all going about their own work or pleasure, which had nothing to do with the white men or their ways; they walked with the free step of the independent forest-dweller... original and self-sustaining as the wild animals of the forests, absolutely independent of civilization... living their own lives in their own way, as they had done for countless generations before america was discovered. indeed the true denizen of the amazonian forests, like the forest itself, is unique and not to be forgotten." elsewhere ( ) wallace speaks of the quiet, good-natured, inoffensive character of these copper-colored peoples, and of their quickness of hand and skill, and continues: "their figures are generally superb; and i have never felt so much pleasure in gazing at the finest statue as at these living illustrations of the beauty of the human form." ( ) travels on the amazon ( ), ch. xvii. though some of the peoples just mentioned may be said to belong to different grades or stages of human evolution and physically some no doubt were far superior to others, yet they mostly exhibit this simple grace of the bodily and mental organism, as well as that closeness of tribal solidarity of which i have spoken. the immense antiquity, of the clan organization, as shown by investigations into early marriage, points to the latter conclusion. travellers among bushmen, hottentots, fuegians, esquimaux, papuans and other peoples--peoples who have been pushed aside into unfavorable areas by the invasion of more warlike and better-equipped races, and who have suffered physically in consequence--confirm this. kropotkin, speaking of the hottentots, quotes the german author p. kolben who travelled among them in or so. "he knew the hottentots well and did not pass by their defects in silence, but could not praise their tribal morality highly enough. their word is sacred, he wrote, they know nothing of the corruption and faithless arts of europe. they live in great tranquillity and are seldom at war with their neighbors, and are all kindness and goodwill to one another." ( ) kropotkin further says: "let me remark that when kolben says 'they are certainly the most friendly, the most liberal and the most benevolent people to one another that ever appeared on the earth' he wrote a sentence which has continually appeared since in the description of savages. when first meeting with primitive races, the europeans usually make a caricature of their life; but when an intelligent man has stayed among them for a longer time he generally describes them as the 'kindest' or the 'gentlest' race on the earth. these very same words have been applied to the ostyaks, the samoyedes, the eskimos, the dyaks, the aleuts, the papuans, and so on, by the highest authorities. i also remember having read them applied to the tunguses, the tchuktchis, the sioux, and several others. the very frequency of that high commendation already speaks volumes in itself." ( ) ( ) p. kropotkin, mutual aid, p. . w. j. solias also speaks in terms of the highest praise of the bushmen--"their energy, patience, courage, loyalty, affection, good manners and artistic sense" (ancient hunters, , p. ). ( ) ibid, p. . many of the tribes, like the aleuts, eskimos, dyaks, papuans, fuegians, etc., are themselves in the neolithic stage of culture--though for the reason given above probably degenerated physically from the standard of their neolithic ancestors; and so the conclusion is forced upon one that there must have been an immense period, ( ) prior to the first beginnings of 'civilization,' in which the human tribes in general led a peaceful and friendly life on the earth, comparatively little broken up by dissensions, in close contact with nature and in that degree of sympathy with and understanding of the animals which led to the establishment of the totem system. though it would be absurd to credit these tribes with any great degree of comfort and well-being according to our modern standards, yet we may well suppose that the memory of this long period lingered on for generations and generations and was ultimately idealized into the golden age, in contrast to the succeeding period of everlasting warfare, rancor and strife, which came in with the growth of property with its greeds and jealousies, and the accentuation of self-consciousness with all its vanities and ambitions. ( ) see for estimates of periods ch. xiv; also, for the peacefulness of these early peoples, havelock ellis on "the origin of war," where he says "we do not find the weapons of warfare or the wounds of warfare among these palaeolithic remains ... it was with civilization that the art of killing developed, i. e. within the last , or , years when neolithic men (who became our ancestors) were just arriving." i say that each tribe at this early stage of development had within it the essentials of what we call religion--namely a bedrock sense of its community with nature, and of the common life among its members--a sense so intimate and fundamental that it was hardly aware of itself (any more than the fish is aware of the sea in which it lives), but yet was really the matrix of tribal thought and the spring of tribal action. it was this sense of unity which was destined by the growth of self-consciousness to come to light and evidence in the shape of all manner of rituals and ceremonials; and by the growth of the imaginative intellect to embody itself in the figures and forms of all manner of deities. let us examine into this a little more closely. a lark soaring in the eye of the sun, and singing rapt between its "heaven and home" realizes no doubt in actual fact all that those two words mean to us; yet its realization is quite subconscious. it does not define its own experience: it feels but it does not think. in order to come to the stage of thinking it would perhaps be necessary that the lark should be exiled from the earth and the sky, and confined in a cage. early man felt the great truths and realities of life--often i believe more purely than we do--but he could not give form to his experience. that stage came when he began to lose touch with these realities; and it showed itself in rites and ceremonials. the inbreak of self-consciousness brought out the facts of his inner life into ritualistic and afterwards into intellectual forms. let me give examples. for a long time the tribe is all in all; the individual is completely subject to the 'spirit of the hive'; he does not even think of contravening it. then the day comes when self-interest, as apart from the tribe, becomes sufficiently strong to drive him against some tribal custom. he breaks the tabu; he eats the forbidden apple; he sins against the tribe, and is cast out. suddenly he finds himself an exile, lonely, condemned and deserted. a horrible sense of distress seizes him--something of which he had no experience before. he tries to think about it all, to understand the situation, but is dazed and cannot arrive at any conclusion. his one necessity is reconciliation, atonement. he finds he cannot live outside of and alienated from his tribe. he makes a sacrifice, an offering to his fellows, as a seal of sincerity--an offering of his own bodily suffering or precious blood, or the blood of some food-animal, or some valuable gift or other--if only he may be allowed to return. the offering is accepted. the ritual is performed; and he is received back. i have already spoken of this perfectly natural evolution of the twin-ideas of sin and sacrifice, so i need not enlarge upon the subject. but two things we may note here: ( ) that the ritual, being so concrete (and often severe), graves itself on the minds of those concerned, and expresses the feelings of the tribe, with an intensity and sharpness of outline which no words could rival, and ( ) that such rituals may have, and probably did, come into use even while language itself was in an infantile condition and incapable of dealing with the psychological situation except by symbols. they, the rituals, were the first effort of the primitive mind to get beyond, subconscious feeling and emerge into a world of forms and definite thought. let us carry the particular instance, given above, a stage farther, even to the confines of abstract thought and philosophy. i have spoken of "the spirit of the hive" as if the term were applicable to the human as well as to the bee tribe. the individual bee obviously has never thought about that 'spirit,' nor mentally understood what maeterlinck means by it; and yet in terms of actual experience it is an intense reality to the bee (ordaining for instance on some fateful day the slaughter of all the drones), controlling bee-movements and bee-morality generally. the individual tribesman similarly steeped in the age-long human life of his fellows has never thought of the tribe as an ordaining being or spirit, separate from himself--till that day when he is exiled and outcast from it. then he sees himself and the tribe as two opposing beings, himself of course an intelligence or spirit in his own limited degree, the tribe as a much greater intelligence or spirit, standing against and over him. from that day the conception of a god arises on him. it may be only a totem-god--a divine grizzly-bear or what not--but still a god or supernatural presence, embodied in the life of the tribe. this is what sin has taught him. ( ) this is what fear, founded on self-consciousness, has revealed to him. the revelation may be true, or it may be fallacious (i do not prejudge it); but there it is--the beginning of that long series of human evolutions which we call religion. ( ) it is to be noted, in that charming idyll of the eden garden, that it is only after eating of the forbidden fruit that adam and eve perceive the lord god walking in the garden, and converse with him (genesis iii. ). (for when the human mind has reached that stage of consciousness in which each man realizes his own 'self' as a rational and consistent being, "looking before and after," then, as i have said already, the mind projects on the background of nature similarly rational presences which we may call 'gods'; and at that stage 'religion' begins. before that, when the mind is quite unformed and dream-like, and consists chiefly of broken and scattered rays, and when distinct self-consciousness is hardly yet developed, then the presences imagined in nature are merely flickering and intermittent phantoms, and their propitiation and placation comes more properly under, the head of 'magic.') so much for the genesis of the religious ideas of sin and sacrifice, and the rites connected with these ideas--their genesis through the in-break of self-consciousness upon the corporate sub-consciousness of the life of the community. but an exactly similar process may be observed in the case of the other religious ideas. i spoke of the doctrine of the second birth, and the rites connected with it both in paganism and in christianity. there is much to show that among quite primitive peoples there is less of shrinking from death and more of certainty about a continued life after death than we generally find among more intellectual and civilized folk. it is, or has been, quite, common among many tribes for the old and decrepit, who are becoming a burden to their fellows, to offer themselves for happy dispatch, and to take willing part in the ceremonial preparations for their own extinction; and this readiness is encouraged by their na[i:]ve and untroubled belief in a speedy transference to "happy hunting-grounds" beyond the grave. the truth is that when, as in such cases, the tribal life is very whole and unbroken--each individual identifying himself completely with the tribe--the idea of the individual's being dropped out at death, and left behind by the tribe, hardly arises. the individual is the tribe, has no other existence. the tribe goes on, living a life which is eternal, and only changes its hunting-grounds; and the individual, identified with the tribe, feels in some subconscious way the same about himself. but when one member has broken faith with the tribe, when he has sinned against it and become an outcast--ah! then the terrors of death and extinction loom large upon him. "the wages of sin is death." there comes a period in the evolution of tribal life when the primitive bonds are loosening, when the tendency towards self-will and self-determination (so necessary of course in the long run for the evolution of humanity) becomes a real danger to the tribe, and a terror to the wise men and elders of the community. it is seen that the children inherit this tendency--even from their infancy. they are no longer mere animals, easily herded; it seems that they are born in sin--or at least in ignorance and neglect of their tribal life and calling. the only cure is that they must be born again. they must deliberately and of set purpose be adopted into the tribe, and be made to realize, even severely, in their own persons what is happening. they must go through the initiations necessary to impress this upon them. thus a whole series of solemn rites spring up, different no doubt in every locality, but all having the same object and purpose. (and one can understand how the necessity of such initiations and second birth may easily have been itself felt in every race, at some stage of its evolution--and that quite as a spontaneous growth, and independently of any contagion of example caught from other races.) the same may be said about the world-wide practice of the eucharist. no more effective method exists for impressing on the members of a body their community of life with each other, and causing them to forget their jangling self-interests, than to hold a feast in common. it is a method which has been honored in all ages as well as to-day. but when the flesh partaken of at the feast is that of the totem--the guardian and presiding genius of the tribe--or perhaps of one of its chief food-animals--then clearly the feast takes on a holy and solemn character. it becomes a sacrament of unity--of the unity of all with the tribe, and with each other. self-interests and self-consciousness are for the time submerged, and the common life asserts itself; but here again we see that a custom like this would not come into being as a deliberate rite until self-consciousness and the divisions consequent thereon had grown to be an obvious evil. the herd-animals (cows, sheep, and so forth) do not have eucharists, simply because they are sensible enough to feed along the same pastures without quarrelling over the richest tufts of grass. when the flesh partaken of (either actually or symbolically) is not that of a divinized animal, but the flesh of a human-formed god--as in the mysteries of dionysus or osiris or christ--then we are led to suspect (and of course this theory is widely held and supported) that the rites date from a very far-back period when a human being, as representative of the tribe, was actually slain, dismembered and partly devoured; though as time went on, the rite gradually became glossed over and mitigated into a love-communion through the sharing of bread and wine. it is curious anyhow that the dismemberment or division into fragments of the body of a god (as in the case of dionysus, osiris, attis, praj[a']pati and others) should be so frequent a tenet of the old religions, and so commonly associated with a love-feast of reconciliation and resurrection. it may be fairly interpreted as a symbol of nature-dismemberment in winter and resurrection in spring; but we must also not forget that it may (and indeed must) have stood as an allegory of tribal dismemberment and reconciliation--the tribe, conceived of as a divinity, having thus suffered and died through the inbreak of sin and the self-motive, and risen again into wholeness by the redemption of love and sacrifice. whatever view the rank and file of the tribe may have taken of the matter, i think it is incontestable that the more thoughtful regarded these rites as full of mystic and spiritual meaning. it is of the nature, as i have said before, of these early symbols and ceremonies that they held so many meanings in solution; and it is this fact which gave them a poetic or creative quality, and their great hold upon the public mind. i use the word "tribe" in many places here as a matter of convenience; not forgetting however that in some cases "clan" might be more appropriate, as referring to a section of a tribe; or "people" or "folk" as referring to unions of several tribes. it is impossible of course to follow out all the gradations of organization from tribal up to national life; but it may be remembered that while animal totems prevail as a rule in the earlier stages, human-formed gods become more conspicuous in the later developments. all through, the practice of the eucharist goes on, in varying forms adapting itself to the surrounding conditions; and where in the later societies a religion like mithraism or christianity includes people of very various race, the rite loses quite naturally its tribal significance and becomes a celebration of allegiance to a particular god--of unity within a special church, in fact. ultimately it may become--as for a brief moment in the history of the early christians it seemed likely to do--a celebration of allegiance to all humanity, irrespective of race or creed or color of skin or of mind: though unfortunately that day seems still far distant and remains yet unrealized. it must not be overlooked, however, that the religion of the persian b[a^]b, first promulgated in to --and a subject i shall deal with presently--had as a matter of fact this all embracing and universal scope. to return to the golden age or garden of eden. our conclusion seems to be that there really was such a period of comparative harmony in human life--to which later generations were justified in looking back, and looking back with regret. it corresponded in the psychology of human evolution to stage one. the second stage was that of the fall; and so one is inevitably led to the conjecture and the hope that a third stage will redeem the earth and its inhabitants to a condition of comparative blessedness. x. the saviour-god and the virgin-mother from the consideration of the world-wide belief in a past golden age, and the world-wide practice of the eucharist, in the sense indicated in the last chapter, to that of the equally widespread belief in a human-divine saviour, is a brief and easy step. some thirty years ago, dealing with this subject, ( ) i wrote as follows:--"the true self of man consists in his organic relation with the whole body of his fellows; and when the man abandons his true self he abandons also his true relation to his fellows. the mass-man must rule in each unit-man, else the unit-man will drop off and die. but when the outer man tries to separate himself from the inner, the unit-man from the mass-man, then the reign of individuality begins--a false and impossible individuality of course, but the only means of coming to the consciousness of the true individuality." and further, "thus this divinity in each creature, being that which constitutes it and causes it to cohere together, was conceived of as that creature's saviour, healer--healer of wounds of body and wounds of heart--the man within the man, whom it was not only possible to know, but whom to know and be united with was the alone salvation. this, i take it, was the law of health--and of holiness--as accepted at some elder time of human history, and by us seen as through a glass darkly." ( ) see civilisation: its cause and cure, ch. i. i think it is impossible not to see--however much in our pride of civilization (!) we like to jeer at the pettinesses of tribal life--that these elder people perceived as a matter of fact and direct consciousness the redeeming presence (within each unit-member of the group) of the larger life to which he belonged. this larger life was a reality--"a presence to be felt and known"; and whether he called it by the name of a totem-animal, or by the name of a nature-divinity, or by the name of some gracious human-limbed god--some hercules, mithra, attis, orpheus, or what-not--or even by the great name of humanity itself, it was still in any case the saviour, the living incarnate being by the realization of whose presence the little mortal could be lifted out of exile and error and death and suffering into splendor and life eternal. it is impossible, i think, not to see that the myriad worship of "saviours" all over the world, from china to peru, can only be ascribed to the natural working of some such law of human and tribal psychology--from earliest times and in all races the same--springing up quite spontaneously and independently, and (so far) unaffected by the mere contagion of local tradition. to suppose that the devil, long before the advent of christianity, put the idea into the heads of all these earlier folk, is really to pay too great a compliment both to the power and the ingenuity of his satanic majesty--though the ingenuity with which the early church did itself suppress all information about these pre-christian saviours almost rivals that which it credited to satan! and on the other hand to suppose this marvellous and universal consent of belief to have sprung by mere contagion from one accidental source would seem equally far-fetched and unlikely. but almost more remarkable than the world-encircling belief in human-divine saviours is the equally widespread legend of their birth from virgin-mothers. there is hardly a god--as we have already had occasion to see--whose worship as a benefactor of mankind attained popularity in any of the four continents, europe, asia, africa and america--who was not reported to have been born from a virgin, or at least from a mother who owed the child not to any earthly father, but to an impregnation from heaven. and this seems at first sight all the more astonishing because the belief in the possibility of such a thing is so entirely out of the line of our modern thought. so that while it would seem not unnatural that such a legend should have, sprung up spontaneously in some odd benighted corner of the world, we find it very difficult to understand how in that case it should have spread so rapidly in every direction, or--if it did not spread--how we are to account for its spontaneous appearance in all these widely sundered regions. i think here, and for the understanding of this problem, we are thrown back upon a very early age of human evolution--the age of magic. before any settled science or philosophy or religion existed, there were still certain things--and consequently also certain words--which had a tremendous influence on the human mind, which in fact affected it deeply. such a word, for instance, is 'thunder'; to hear thunder, to imitate it, even to mention it, are sure ways of rousing superstitious attention and imagination. such another word is 'serpent,' another 'tree,' and so forth. there is no one who is insensible to the reverberation of these and other such words and images ( ); and among them, standing prominently out, are the two 'mother' and 'virgin.' the word mother touches the deepest springs of human feeling. as the earliest word learnt and clung to by the child, it twines itself with the heart-strings of the man even to his latest day. nor must we forget that in a primitive state of society (the matriarchate) that influence was probably even greater than now; for the father of the child being (often as not) unknown the attachment to the mother was all the more intense and undivided. the word mother had a magic about it which has remained even until to-day. but if that word rooted itself deep in the heart of the child, the other word 'virgin' had an obvious magic for the full grown and sexually mature man--a magic which it, too, has never lost. ( ) nor is it difficult to see how out of the discreet use of such words and images, combined with elementary forms like the square, the triangle and the circle, and elementary numbers like , , , etc., quite a science, so to speak, of magic arose. there is ample evidence that one of the very earliest objects of human worship was the earth itself, conceived of as the fertile mother of all things. gaia or ge (the earth) had temples and altars in almost all the cities of greece. rhea or cybele, sprung from the earth, was "mother of all the gods." demeter ("earth mother") was honored far and wide as the gracious patroness of the crops and vegetation. ceres, of course, the same. maia in the indian mythology and isis in the egyptian are forms of nature and the earth-spirit, represented as female; and so forth. the earth, in these ancient cults, was the mystic source of all life, and to it, as a propitiation, life of all kinds was sacrificed. (there are strange accounts of a huge fire being made, with an altar to cybele in the midst, and of deer and fawns and wild animals, and birds and sheep and corn and fruits being thrown pell-mell into the flames. ( )) it was, in a way, the most natural, as it seems to have been the earliest and most spontaneous of cults--the worship of the earth-mother, the all-producing eternal source of life, and on account of her never-failing ever-renewed fertility conceived of as an immortal virgin. ( ) see pausanias iv. . ; and lucian, de syria dea, . but when the saviour-legend sprang up--as indeed i think it must have sprung up, in tribe after tribe and people after people, independently--then, whether it sprang from the divinization of some actual man who showed the way of light and deliverance to his fellows "sitting in darkness," or whether from the personification of the tribe itself as a god, in either case the question of the hero's parentage was bound to arise. if the 'saviour' was plainly a personification of the tribe, it was obviously impossible to suppose him the son of a mortal mother. in that case--and if the tribe was generally traced in the legends to some primeval animal or mountain or thing of nature--it was probably easy to think of him (the saviour) as, born out of nature's womb, descended perhaps from that pure virgin of the world who is the earth and nature, who rules the skies at night, and stands in the changing phases of the moon, and is worshiped (as we have seen) in the great constellation virgo. if, on the other hand, he was the divinization of some actual man, more or less known either personally or by tradition to his fellows, then in all probability the name of his mortal mother would be recognized and accepted; but as to his father, that side of parentage being, as we have said, generally very uncertain, it would be easy to suppose some heavenly annunciation, the midnight visit of a god, and what is usually termed a virgin-birth. there are two elements to be remembered here, as conspiring to this conclusion. one is the condition of affairs in a remote matriarchial period, when descent was reckoned always through the maternal line, and the fatherhood in each generation was obscure or unknown or commonly left out of account; and the other is the fact--so strange and difficult for us to realize--that among some very primitive peoples, like the australian aborigines, the necessity for a woman to have intercourse with a male, in order to bring about conception and child-birth, was actually not recognized. scientific observation had not always got as far as that, and the matter was still under the domain of magic! ( ) a virgin-mother was therefore a quite imaginable (not to say 'conceivable') thing; and indeed a very beautiful and fascinating thing, combining in one image the potent magic of two very wonderful words. it does not seem impossible that considerations of this kind led to the adoption of the doctrine or legend of the virgin-mother and the heavenly father among so many races and in so many localities--even without any contagion of tradition among them. ( ) probably the long period (nine months) elapsing between cohabitation and childbirth confused early speculation on the subject. then clearly cohabitation was not always followed by childbirth. and, more important still, the number of virgins of a mature age in primitive societies was so very minute that the fact of their childlessness attracted no attention--whereas in our societies the sterility of the whole class is patent to everyone. anyhow, and as a matter of fact, the world-wide dissemination of the legend is most remarkable. zeus, father of the gods, visited semele, it will be remembered, in the form of a thunderstorm; and she gave birth to the great saviour and deliverer dionysus. zeus, again, impregnated danae in a shower of gold; and the child was perseus, who slew the gorgons (the powers of darkness) and saved andromeda (the human soul ( )). devaki, the radiant virgin of the hindu mythology, became the wife of the god vishnu and bore krishna, the beloved hero and prototype of christ. with regard to buddha st. jerome says ( ) "it is handed down among the gymnosophists, of india that buddha, the founder of their system, was brought forth by a virgin from her side." the egyptian isis, with the child horus, on her knee, was honored centuries before the christian era, and worshiped under the names of "our lady," "queen of heaven," "star of the sea," "mother of god," and so forth. before her, neith, the virgin of the world, whose figure bends from the sky over the earthly plains and the children of men, was acclaimed as mother of the great god osiris. the saviour mithra, too, was born of a virgin, as we have had occasion to notice before; and on the mithrais monuments the mother suckling her child is a not uncommon figure. ( ) ( ) for this interpretation of the word andromeda see the perfect way by edward maitland, preface to first edition, . ( ) contra jovian, book i; and quoted by rhys davids in his buddhisim. ( ) see doane's bible myths, p. , and dupuis' origins of religious beliefs. the old teutonic goddess hertha (the earth) was a virgin, but was impregnated by the heavenly spirit (the sky); and her image with a child in her arms was to be seen in the sacred groves of germany. ( ) the scandinavian frigga, in much the same way, being caught in the embraces of odin, the all-father, conceived and bore a son, the blessed balder, healer and saviour of mankind. quetzalcoatl, the (crucified) saviour of the aztecs, was the son of chimalman, the virgin queen of heaven. ( ) even the chinese had a mother-goddess and virgin with child in her arms ( ); and the ancient etruscans the same. ( ) ( ) r. p. knight's ancient art and mythology, p. . ( ) see kingsborough's mexican antiquities, vol. vi, p. , where it is said "an ambassador was sent from heaven on an embassy to a virgin of tulan, called chimalman... announcing that it was the will of the god that she should conceive a son; and having delivered her the message he rose and left the house; and as soon as he had left it she conceived a son, without connection with man, who was called quetzalcoat, who they say is the god of air." further, it is explained that quetzalcoatl sacrificed himself, drawing forth his own blood with thorns; and that the word quetzalcoatlotopitzin means "our well-beloved son." ( ) doane, p. . ( ) see inman's pagan and christian symbolism, p. . finally, we have the curiously large number of black virgin mothers who are or have been worshiped. not only cases like devaki the indian goddess, or isis the egyptian, who would naturally appear black-skinned or dark; but the large number of images and paintings of the same kind, yet extant--especially in the italian churches--and passing for representations of mary and the infant jesus. such are the well-known image in the chapel at loretto, and images and paintings besides in the churches at genoa, pisa, padua, munich and other places. it is difficult not to regard these as very old pagan or pre-christian relics which lingered on into christian times and were baptized anew--as indeed we know many relics and images actually were--into the service of the church. "great is diana of the ephesians"; and there is i believe more than one black figure extant of this diana, who, though of course a virgin, is represented with innumerable breasts ( )--not unlike some of the archaic statues of artemis and isis. at paris, far on into christian times there was, it is said, on the site of the present cathedral of notre dame, a temple dedicated to 'our lady' isis; and images belonging to the earlier shrine would in all probability be preserved with altered name in the later. ( ) see illustration, p. , in inman's pagan and christian symbolism. all this illustrates not only the wide diffusion of the doctrine of the virgin-mother, but its extreme antiquity. the subject is obscure, and worthy of more consideration than has yet been accorded it; and i do not feel able to add anything to the tentative explanations given a page or two back, except perhaps to suppose that the vision of the perfect man hovered dimly over the mind of the human race on its first emergence from the purely animal stage; and that a quite natural speculation with regard to such a being was that he would be born from a perfect woman--who according to early ideas would necessarily be the virgin earth itself, mother of all things. anyhow it was a wonderful intuition, slumbering as it would seem in the breast of early man, that the great earth after giving birth to all living creatures would at last bring forth a child who should become the saviour of the human race. there is of course the further theory, entertained by some, that virgin-parturition--a kind of parthenogenesis--has as a matter of fact occasionally occurred among mortal women, and even still does occur. i should be the last to deny the possibility of this (or of anything else in nature), but, seeing the immense difficulties in the way of proof of any such asserted case, and the absence so far of any thoroughly attested and verified instance, it would, i think, be advisable to leave this theory out of account at present. but whether any of the explanations spoken of are right or wrong, and whatever explanation we adopt, there remains the fact of the universality over the world of this legend--affording another instance of the practical solidarity and continuity of the pagan creeds with christianity. xi. ritual dancing it is unnecessary to labor the conclusion of the last two or three chapters, namely that christianity grew out of the former pagan creeds and is in its general outlook and origins continuous and of one piece with them. i have not attempted to bring together all the evidence in favor of this contention, as such work would be too vast, but more illustrations of its truth will doubtless occur to readers, or will emerge as we proceed. i think we may take it as proved ( ) that from the earliest ages, and before history, a great body of religious belief and ritual--first appearing among very primitive and unformed folk, whom we should call 'savages'--has come slowly down, broadening and differentiating itself on the way into a great variety of forms, but embodying always certain main ideas which became in time the accepted doctrines of the later churches--the indian, the egyptian, the mithraic, the christian, and so forth. what these ideas in their general outline have been we can perhaps best judge from our "apostles' creed," as it is recited every sunday in our churches. "i believe in god the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth: and in jesus christ his only son our lord, who was conceived by the holy ghost, born of the virgin mary, suffered under pontius pilate, was crucified, dead and buried. he descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead, he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of god the father almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. i believe in the holy ghost; the holy catholic church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. amen." here we have the all-father and creator, descending from the sky in the form of a spirit to impregnate the earthly virgin-mother, who thus gives birth to a saviour-hero. the latter is slain by the powers of evil, is buried and descends into the lower world, but arises again as god into heaven and becomes the leader and judge of mankind. we have the confirmation of the church (or, in earlier times, of the tribe) by means of a eucharist or communion which binds together all the members, living or dead, and restores errant individuals through the sacrifice of the hero and the forgiveness of their sins; and we have the belief in a bodily resurrection and continued life of the members within the fold of the church (or tribe), itself regarded as eternal. one has only, instead of the word 'jesus,' to read dionysus or krishna or hercules or osiris or attis, and instead of 'mary' to insert semele or devaki or alcmene or neith or nana, and for pontius pilate to use the name of any terrestrial tyrant who comes into the corresponding story, and lo! the creed fits in all particulars into the rites and worship of a pagan god. i need not enlarge upon a thesis which is self-evident from all that has gone before. i do not say, of course, that all the religious beliefs of paganism are included and summarized in our apostles' creed, for--as i shall have occasion to note in the next chapter--i think some very important religious elements are there omitted; but i do think that all the beliefs which are summarized in the said creed had already been fully represented and elaborately expressed in the non-christian religions and rituals of paganism. further ( ) i think we may safely say that there is no certain proof that the body of beliefs just mentioned sprang from any one particular centre far back and radiated thence by dissemination and mental contagion over the rest of the world; but the evidence rather shows that these beliefs were, for the most part, the spontaneous outgrowths (in various localities) of the human mind at certain stages of its evolution; that they appeared, in the different races and peoples, at different periods according to the degree of evolution, and were largely independent of intercourse and contagion, though of course, in cases, considerably influenced by it; and that one great and all-important occasion and provocative of these beliefs was actually the rise of self-consciousness--that is, the coming of the mind to a more or less distinct awareness of itself and of its own operation, and the consequent development and growth of individualism, and of the self-centred attitude in human thought and action. in the third place ( ) i think we may see--and this is the special subject of the present chapter--that at a very early period, when humanity was hardly capable of systematic expression in what we call philosophy or science, it could not well rise to an ordered and literary expression of its beliefs, such as we find in the later religions and the 'churches' (babylonian, jewish, east indian, christian, or what-not), and yet that it felt these beliefs very intensely and was urged, almost compelled, to their utterance in some form or other. and so it came about that people expressed themselves in a vast mass of ritual and myth--customs, ceremonies, legends, stories--which on account of their popular and concrete form were handed down for generations, and some of which linger on still in the midst of our modern civilization. these rituals and legends were, many of them, absurd enough, rambling and childish in character, and preposterous in conception, yet they gave the expression needed; and some of them of course, as we have seen, were full of meaning and suggestion. a critical and commercial civilization, such as ours, in which (notwithstanding much talk about art) the artistic sense is greatly lacking, or at any rate but little diffused, does not as a rule understand that poetic rites, in the evolution of peoples, came naturally before anything like ordered poems or philosophy or systematized views about life and religion--such as we love to wallow in! things were felt before they were spoken. the loading of diseases into disease-boats, of sins onto scape-goats, the propitiation of the forces of nature by victims, human or animal, sacrifices, ceremonies of re-birth, eucharistic feasts, sexual communions, orgiastic celebrations of the common life, and a host of other things--all said plainly enough what was meant, but not in words. partly no doubt it was that at some early time words were more difficult of command and less flexible in use than actions (and at all times are they not less expressive?). partly it was that mankind was in the child-stage. the child delights in ritual, in symbol, in expression through material objects and actions: see, at his feet some little plan or chart, some fragment from his dream of human life, shaped by himself with newly learned art; a wedding or a festival, a mourning or a funeral; and this hath now his heart. and primitive man in the child-stage felt a positive joy in ritual celebrations, and indulged in expressions which we but little understand; for these had then his heart. one of the most pregnant of these expressions was dancing. children dance instinctively. they dance with rage; they dance with joy, with sheer vitality; they dance with pain, or sometimes with savage glee at the suffering of others; they delight in mimic combats, or in animal plays and disguises. there are such things as courting-dances, when the mature male and female go through a ritual together--not only in civilized ball-rooms and the back-parlors of inns, but in the farmyards where the rooster pays his addresses to the hen, or the yearling bull to the cow--with quite recognized formalities; there are elaborate ceremonials performed by the australian bower-birds and many other animals. all these things--at any rate in children and animals--come before speech; and anyhow we may say that love-rites, even in mature and civilized man, hardly admit of speech. words only vulgarize love and blunt its edge. so dance to the savage and the early man was not merely an amusement or a gymnastic exercise (as the books often try to make out), but it was also a serious and intimate part of life, an expression of religion and the relation of man to non-human powers. imagine a young dancer--and the admitted age for ritual dancing was commonly from about eighteen to thirty--coming forward on the dancing-ground or platform for the invocation of rain. we have unfortunately no kinematic records, but it is not impossible or very difficult to imagine the various gestures and movements which might be considered appropriate to such a rite in different localities or among different peoples. a modern student of dalcroze eurhythmics would find the problem easy. after a time a certain ritual dance (for rain) would become stereotyped and generally adopted. or imagine a young greek leading an invocation to apollo to stay some plague which was ravaging the country. he might as well be accompanied by a small body of co-dancers; but he would be the leader and chief representative. or it might be a war-dance--as a more or less magical preparation for the raid or foray. we are familiar enough with accounts of war-dances among american indians. c. o. muller in his history and antiquities of the doric race ( ) gives the following account of the pyrrhic dance among the greeks, which was danced in full armor:--"plato says that it imitated all the attitudes of defence, by avoiding a thrust or a cast, retreating, springing up, and crouching-as also the opposite movements of attack with arrows and lances, and also of every kind of thrust. so strong was the attachment to this dance at sparta that, long after it had in the other greek states degenerated into a bacchanalian revel, it was still danced by the spartans as a warlike exercise, and boys of fifteen were instructed in it." of the hunting-dance i have already given instances. ( ) it always had the character of magic about it, by which the game or quarry might presumably be influenced; and it can easily be understood that if the hunt was not successful the blame might well be attributed to some neglect of the usual ritual mimes or movements--no laughing matter for the leader of the dance. ( ) book iv, ch. , section . ( ) see also winwood reade's savage africa, ch. xviii, in which he speaks of the "gorilla dance," before hunting gorillas, as a "religious festival." or there were dances belonging to the ceremonies of initiation--dances both by the initiators and the initiated. jane e. harrison in themis (p. ) says, "instruction among savage peoples is always imparted in more or less mimetic dances. at initiation you learn certain dances which confer on you definite social status. when a man is too old to dance, he hands over his dance to another and a younger, and he then among some tribes ceases to exist socially.... the dances taught to boys at initiation are frequently if not always armed dances. these are not necessarily warlike. the accoutrement of spear and shield was in part decorative, in part a provision for making the necessary hubbub." (here miss harrison reproduces a photograph of an initiation dance among the akikuyu of british east africa.) the initiation-dances blend insensibly and naturally with the mystery and religion dances, for indeed initiation was for the most part an instruction in the mysteries and social rites of the tribe. they were the expression of things which would be hard even for us, and which for rude folk would be impossible, to put into definite words. hence arose the expression--whose meaning has been much discussed by the learned--"to dance out ([gr ezorceisqai]) a mystery." ( ) lucian, in a much-quoted passage, ( ) observes: "you cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing ... and this much all men know, that most people say of the revealers of the mysteries that they 'dance them out.'" andrew lang, commenting on this passage, ( ) continues: "clement of alexandria uses the same term when speaking of his own 'appalling revelations.' so closely connected are mysteries with dancing among savages that when mr. orpen asked qing, the bushman hunter, about some doctrines in which qing was not initiated, he said: 'only the initiated men of that dance know these things.' to 'dance' this or that means to be acquainted with this or that myth, which is represented in a dance or ballet d'action. so widely distributed is the practice that acosta in an interesting passage mentions it as familiar to the people of peru before and after the spanish conquest." (and we may say that when the 'mysteries' are of a sexual nature it can easily be understood that to 'dance them out' is the only way of explaining them!) ( ) meaning apparently either simply to represent, or, sometimes to divulge, a mystery. ( ) [gr peri 'orchsews], ch. xv. . ( ) myth, ritual and religion, i, . thus we begin to appreciate the serious nature and the importance of the dance among primitive folk. to dub a youth "a good dancer" is to pay him a great compliment. among the well-known inscriptions on the rocks in the island of thera in the aegean sea there are many which record in deeply graven letters the friendship and devotion to each other of spartan warrior-comrades; it seems strange at first to find how often such an epithet of praise occurs as bathycles dances well, eumelos is a perfect dancer ([gr aristos orcestas]). one hardly in general expects one warrior to praise another for his dancing! but when one realizes what is really meant--namely the fitness of the loved comrade to lead in religious and magical rituals--then indeed the compliment takes on a new complexion. religious dances, in dedication to a god, have of course been honored in every country. muller, in the work just cited, ( ) describes a lively dance called the hyporchema which, accompanied by songs, was used in the worship of apollo. "in this, besides the chorus of singers who usually danced around the blazing altar, several persons were appointed to accompany the action of the poem with an appropriate pantomimic display." it was probably some similar dance which is recorded in exodus, ch. xxxii, when aaron made the israelites a golden calf (image of the egyptian apis). there was an altar and a fire and burnt offerings for sacrifice, and the people dancing around. whether in the apollo ritual the dancers were naked i cannot say, but in the affair of the golden calf they evidently were, for it will be remembered that it was just this which upset moses' equanimity so badly--"when he saw that the people were naked"--and led to the breaking of the two tables of stone and the slaughter of some thousands of folk. it will be remembered also that david on a sacrificial occasion danced naked before the lord. ( ) ( ) book ii, ch. viii, section . ( ) sam. vi. it may seem strange that dances in honor of a god should be held naked; but there is abundant evidence that this was frequently the case, and it leads to an interesting speculation. many of these rituals undoubtedly owed their sanctity and solemnity to their extreme antiquity. they came down in fact from very far back times when the average man or woman--as in some of the central african tribes to-day--wore simply nothing at all; and like all religious ceremonies they tended to preserve their forms long after surrounding customs and conditions had altered. consequently nakedness lingered on in sacrificial and other rites into periods when in ordinary life it had come to be abandoned or thought indecent and shameful. this comes out very clearly in both instances above--quoted from the bible. for in exodus xxxii. it is said that "aaron had made them (the dancers) naked unto their shame among their enemies (read opponents)," and in sam. vi. we are told that michal came out and sarcastically rebuked the "glorious king of israel" for "shamelessly uncovering himself, like a vain fellow" (for which rebuke, i am sorry to say, david took a mean revenge on michal). in both cases evidently custom had so far changed that to a considerable section of the population these naked exhibitions had become indecent, though as parts of an acknowledged ritual they were still retained and supported by others. the same conclusion may be derived from the commands recorded in exodus xx. and xxviii. , that the priests be not "uncovered" before the altar--commands which would hardly have been needed had not the practice been in vogue. then there were dances (partly magical or religious) performed at rustic and agricultural festivals, like the epilenios, celebrated in greece at the gathering of the grapes. ( ) of such a dance we get a glimpse in the bible (judges xxi. ) when the elders advised the children of benjamin to go out and lie in wait in the vineyards, at the time of the yearly feast; and "when the daughters of shiloh come out to dance in the dances, then come ye out of the vineyards and catch you every man a wife from the daughters of shiloh"--a touching example apparently of early so-called 'marriage by capture'! or there were dances, also partly or originally religious, of a quite orgiastic and bacchanalian character, like the bryallicha performed in sparta by men and women in hideous masks, or the deimalea by sileni and satyrs waltzing in a circle; or the bibasis carried out by both men and women--a quite gymnastic exercise in which the performers took a special pride in striking their own buttocks with their heels! or others wilder still, which it would perhaps not be convenient to describe. ( ) [gr epilhnioi umnoi]: hymns sung over the winepress (dictionary). we must see how important a part dancing played in that great panorama of ritual and religion (spoken of in the last chapter) which, having originally been led up to by the 'fall of man,' has ever since the dawn of history gradually overspread the world with its strange procession of demons and deities, and its symbolic representations of human destiny. when it is remembered that ritual dancing was the matrix out of which the drama sprang, and further that the drama in its inception (as still to-day in india) was an affair of religion and was acted in, or in connection with, the temples, it becomes easier to understand how all this mass of ceremonial sacrifices, expiations, initiations, sun and nature festivals, eucharistic and orgiastic communions and celebrations, mystery-plays, dramatic representations, myths and legends, etc., which i have touched upon in the preceding chapters--together with all the emotions, the desires, the fears, the yearnings and the wonderment which they represented--have practically sprung from the same root: a root deep and necessary in the psychology of man. presently i hope to show that they will all practically converge again in the end to one meaning, and prepare the way for one great synthesis to come--an evolution also necessary and inevitable in human psychology. in that truly inspired ode from which i quoted a few pages back, occur those well-known words whose repetition now will, on account of their beauty, i am sure be excused:-- our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: the soul that rises with us, our life's star, hath had elsewhere its setting, and cometh from afar; not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come from god, who is our home: heaven lies about us in our infancy! shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy, but he beholds the light and whence it flows he sees it in his joy; the youth who daily farther from the east must travel, still is nature's priest, and by the vision splendid is on his way attended; at length the man perceives it die away and fade into the light of common day. wordsworth--though he had not the inestimable advantage of a nineteenth-century education and the inheritance of the darwinian philosophy--does nevertheless put the matter of the genius of the child in a way which (with the alteration of a few conventional terms) we scientific moderns are quite inclined to accept. we all admit now that the child does not come into the world with a mental tabula rasa of entire forgetfulness but on the contrary as the possessor of vast stores of sub-conscious memory, derived from its ancestral inheritances; we all admit that a certain grace and intuitive insight and even prophetic quality, in the child-nature, are due to the harmonization of these racial inheritances in the infant, even before it is born; and that after birth the impact of the outer world serves rather to break up and disintegrate this harmony than to confirm and strengthen it. some psychologists indeed nowadays go so far as to maintain that the child is not only 'father of the man,' but superior to the man, ( ) and that boyhood and youth and maturity are attained to not by any addition but by a process of loss and subtraction. it will be seen that the last ten lines of the above quotation rather favor this view. ( ) "man in the course of his life falls away more and more from the specifically human type of his early years, but the ape in the course of his short life goes very much farther along the road of degradation and premature senility." (man and woman, by havelock ellis, p. ). but my object in making the quotation was not to insist on the truth of its application to the individual child, but rather to point out the remarkable way in which it illustrates what i have said about the childhood of the race. in fact, if the quotation be read over again with this interpretation (which i do not say wordsworth intended) that the 'birth' spoken of is the birth or evolution of the distinctively self-conscious man from the animals and the animal-natured, unself-conscious human beings of a preceding age, then the parable unfolds itself perfectly naturally and convincingly. that birth certainly was sleep and a forgetting; the grace and intuition and instinctive perfection of the animals was lost. but the forgetfulness was not entire; the memory lingered long of an age of harmony, of an eden-garden left behind. and trailing clouds of this remembrance the first tribal men, on the edge of but not yet within the civilization-period, appear in the dawn of history. as i have said before, the period of the dawn of self-consciousness was also the period of the dawn of the practical and inquiring intellect; it was the period of the babyhood of both; and so we perceive among these early people (as we also do among children) that while in the main the heart and the intuitions were right, the intellect was for a long period futile and rambling to a degree. as soon as the mind left the ancient bases of instinct and sub-conscious racial experience it fell into a hopeless bog, out of which it only slowly climbed by means of the painfully-gathered stepping-stones of logic and what we call science. "heaven lies about us in our infancy." wordsworth perceived that wonderful world of inner experience and glory out of which the child emerges; and some even of us may perceive that similar world in which the untampered animals still dwell, and out of which self-regarding man in the history of the race was long ago driven. but a curse went with the exile. as the brain grew, the heart withered. the inherited instincts and racially accumulated wisdom, on which the first men thrived and by means of which they achieved a kind of temporary paradise, were broken up; delusions and disease and dissension set in. cain turned upon his brother and slew him; and the shades of the prison-house began to close. the growing boy, however, (by whom we may understand the early tribes of mankind) had yet a radiance of light and joy in his life; and the youth--though travelling daily farther from the east--still remained nature's priest, and by the vision splendid was on his way attended: but at length the man perceived it die away. and fade into the light of common day. what a strangely apt picture in a few words (if we like to take it so) of the long pilgrimage of the human race, its early and pathetic clinging to the tradition of the eden-garden, its careless and vigorous boyhood, its meditative youth, with consciousness of sin and endless expiatory ritual in nature's bosom, its fleeting visions of salvation, and finally its complete disillusionment and despair in the world-slaughter and unbelief of the twentieth century! leaving wordsworth, however, and coming back to our main line of thought, we may point out that while early peoples were intellectually mere babies--with their endless yarns about heroes on horseback leaping over wide rivers or clouds of monks flying for hundreds of miles through the air, and their utter failure to understand the general concatenations of cause and effect--yet practically and in their instinct of life and destiny they were, as i have already said, by no means fools; certainly not such fools as many of the arm-chair students of these things delight to represent them. for just as, a few years ago, we modern civilizees studying outlying nations, the chinese for instance, rejoiced (in our vanity) to pick out every quaint peculiarity and absurdity and monstrosity of a supposed topsyturvydom, and failed entirely to see the real picture of a great and eminently sensible people; so in the case of primitive men we have been, and even still are, far too prone to catalogue their cruelties and obscenities and idiotic superstitions, and to miss the sane and balanced setting of their actual lives. mr. r. r. marett, who has a good practical acquaintance with his subject, had in the hibbert journal for october an article on "the primitive medicine man" in which he shows that the latter is as a rule anything but a fool and a knave--although like 'medicals' in all ages he hocuspocuses his patients occasionally! he instances the medicine-man's excellent management, in most cases, of childbirth, or of wounds and fractures, or his primeval skill in trepanning or trephining--all of which operations, he admits, may be accompanied with grotesque and superstitious ceremonies, yet show real perception and ability. we all know--though i think the article does not mention the matter--what a considerable list there is of drugs and herbs which the modern art of healing owes to the ancient medicine-man, and it may be again mentioned that one of the most up-to-date treatments--the use of a prolonged and exclusive diet of milk as a means of giving the organism a new start in severe cases--has really come down to us through the ages from this early source. ( ) the real medicine-man, mr. marett says, is largely a 'faith-healer' and 'soul-doctor'; he believes in his vocation, and undergoes much for the sake of it: "the main point is to grasp that by his special initiation and the rigid taboos which he practises--not to speak of occasional remarkable gifts, say of trance and ecstasy, which he may inherit by nature and have improved by art--he has access to a wonder-working power.... and the great need of primitive folk is for this healer of souls." our author further insists on the enormous play and influence of fear in the savage mind--a point we have touched on already--and gives instances of thanatomania, or cases where, after a quite slight and superficial wound, the patient becomes so depressed that he, quite needlessly, persists in dying! such cases, obviously, can only be countered by faith, or something (whatever it may be) which restores courage, hope and energy to the mind. nor need i point out that the situation is exactly the same among a vast number of 'patients' to-day. as to the value, in his degree, of the medicine-man many modern observers and students quite agree with the above. ( ) also as the present chapter is on ritual dancing it may not be out of place to call attention to the supposed healing of sick people in ceylon and other places by devil-dancing--the enormous output of energy and noise in the ritual possibly having the effect of reanimating the patient (if it does not kill him), or of expelling the disease from his organism. ( ) milk ("fast-milk" or vrata) was, says mr. hewitt, the only diet in the soma-sacrifice. see ruling races of prehistoric times (preface). the soma itself was a fermented drink prepared with ceremony from the milky and semen-like sap of certain plants, and much used in sacrificial offerings. (see monier-williams. sanskrit dictionary.) ( ) see winwood reade (savage africa), salamon reinach (cults, myths and religions), and others. with regard to the practical intelligence of primitive peoples, derived from their close contact with life and nature, bishop colenso's experiences among the zulus may appropriately be remembered. when expounding the bible to these supposedly backward 'niggers' he was met at all points by practical interrogations and arguments which he was perfectly unable to answer--especially over the recorded passage of the red sea by the israelites in a single night. from the statistics given in the sacred book these naughty savages proved to him absolutely conclusively that the numbers of fugitives were such that even supposing them to have marched--men, women and children--five abreast and in close order, they would have formed a column miles long, and this not including the baggage, sheep and cattle! of course the feat was absolutely impossible. they could not have passed the red sea in a night or a week of nights. but the sequel is still more amusing and instructive. colenso, in his innocent sincerity, took the side of the zulus, and feeling sure the church at home would be quite glad to have its views with regard to the accuracy of bible statistics corrected, wrote a book embodying the amendments needed. modest as his criticisms were, they raised a storm of protest and angry denunciation, which even led to his deposition for the time being from his bishopric! while at the same time an avalanche of books to oppose his heresy poured forth from the press. lately i had the curiosity to look through the british museum catalogue and found that in refutation of colenso's pentateuch examined some (a hundred and forty) volumes were at that time published! to-day, i need hardly say, all these arm-chair critics and their works have sunk into utter obscurity, but the arguments of the zulus and their bishop still stand unmoved and immovable. this is a case of searching intelligence shown by 'savages,' an intelligence founded on intimate knowledge of the needs of actual life. i think we may say that a similarly instinctive intelligence (sub-conscious if you like) has guided the tribes of men on the whole in their long passage through the red sea of the centuries, from those first days of which i speak even down to the present age, and has in some strange, even if fitful, way kept them along the path of that final emancipation towards which humanity is inevitably moving. xii. the sex-taboo in the course of the last few chapters i have spoken more than once of the solidarity and continuity of christianity, in its essential doctrines, with the pagan rites. there is, however, one notable exception to this statement. i refer of course to christianity's treatment of sex. it is certainly very remarkable that while the pagan cults generally made a great deal of all sorts of sex-rites, laid much stress upon them, and introduced them in what we consider an unblushing and shameless way into the instincts connected with it. i say 'the christian church,' on the whole took quite the opposite line--ignored sex, condemned it, and did much despite to the perfectly natural instincts connected with it. i say 'the christian church,' because there is nothing to show that jesus himself (if we admit his figure as historical) adopted any such extreme or doctrinaire attitude; and the quite early christian teachers (with the chief exception of paul) do not exhibit this bias to any great degree. in fact, as is well known, strong currents of pagan usage and belief ran through the christian assemblies of the first three or four centuries. "the christian art of this period remained delightfully pagan. in the catacombs we see the saviour as a beardless youth, like a young greek god; sometimes represented, like hermes the guardian of the flocks, bearing a ram or lamb round his neck; sometimes as orpheus tuning his lute among the wild animals." ( ) the followers of jesus were at times even accused--whether rightly or wrongly i know not--of celebrating sexual mysteries at their love-feasts. but as the church through the centuries grew in power and scope--with its monks and their mutilations and asceticisms, and its celibate clergy, and its absolute refusal to recognize the sexual meaning of its own acclaimed symbols (like the cross, the three fingers of benediction, the fleur de lys and so forth)--it more and more consistently defined itself as anti-sexual in its outlook, and stood out in that way in marked contrast to the earlier nature-religions. ( ) angels' wings, by e. carpenter, p. . it may be said of course that this anti-sexual tendency can be traced in other of the pre-christian churches, especially the later ones, like the buddhist, the egyptian, and so forth; and this is perfectly true; but it would seem that in many ways the christian church marked the culmination of the tendency; and the fact that other cults participated in the taboo makes us all the more ready and anxious to inquire into its real cause. to go into a disquisition on the sex-rites of the various pre-christian religions would be 'a large order'--larger than i could attempt to fill; but the general facts in this connection are fairly patent. we know, of course, from the bible that the syrians in palestine were given to sexual worships. there were erect images (phallic) and "groves" (sexual symbols) on every high hill and under every green tree; ( ) and these same images and the rites connected with them crept into the jewish temple and were popular enough to maintain their footing there for a long period from king rehoboam onwards, notwithstanding the efforts of josiah ( ) and other reformers to extirpate them. moreover there were girls and men (hierodouloi) regularly attached during this period to the jewish temple as to the heathen temples, for the rendering of sexual services, which were recognized in many cases as part of the ritual. women were persuaded that it was an honor and a privilege to be fertilized by a 'holy man' (a priest or other man connected with the rites), and children resulting from such unions were often called "children of god"--an appellation which no doubt sometimes led to a legend of miraculous birth! girls who took their place as hierodouloi in the temple or temple-precincts were expected to surrender themselves to men-worshipers in the temple, much in the same way, probably, as herodotus describes in the temple of the babylonian venus mylitta, where every native woman, once in her life, was supposed to sit in the temple and have intercourse with some stranger. ( ) indeed the syrian and jewish rites dated largely from babylonia. "the hebrews entering syria," says richard burton ( ) "found it religionized by assyria and babylonia, when the accadian ishtar had passed west, and had become ashtoreth, ashtaroth, or ashirah, the anaitis of armenia, the phoenician astarte, and the greek aphrodite, the great moon-goddess who is queen of heaven and love." the word translated "grove" as above, in our bible, is in fact asherah, which connects it pretty clearly with the babylonian queen of heaven. ( ) kings xiv. - . ( ) kings xxiii. ( ) see herodotus i. ; also a reference to this custom in the apocryphal baruch, vi. , . ( ) the thousand nights and a night ( edn.), vol. x, p. . in india again, in connection with the hindu temples and their rites, we have exactly the same institution of girls attached to the temple service--the nautch-girls--whose functions in past times were certainly sexual, and whose dances in honor of the god are, even down to the present day, decidedly amatory in character. then we have the very numerous lingams (conventional representations of the male organ) to be seen, scores and scores of them, in the arcades and cloisters of the hindu temples--to which women of all classes, especially those who wish to become mothers, resort, anointing them copiously with oil, and signalizing their respect and devotion to them in a very practical way. as to the lingam as representing the male organ, in some form or other--as upright stone or pillar or obelisk or slender round tower--it occurs all over the world, notably in ireland, and forms such a memorial of the adoration paid by early folk to the great emblem and instrument of human fertility, as cannot be mistaken. the pillars set up by solomon in front of his temple were obviously from their names--jachin and boaz ( )--meant to be emblems of this kind; and the fact that they were crowned with pomegranates--the universally accepted symbol of the female--confirms and clinches this interpretation. the obelisks before the egyptians' temples were signs of the same character. the well-known t-shaped cross was in use in pagan lands long before christianity, as a representation of the male member, and also at the same time of the 'tree' on which the god (attis or adonis or krishna or whoever it might be) was crucified; and the same symbol combined with the oval (or yoni) formed the crux ansata {ankh} of the old egyptian ritual--a figure which is to-day sold in cairo as a potent charm, and confessedly indicates the conjunction of the two sexes in one design. ( ) maclennan in the fortnightly review (oct. ) quotes with approval the words of sanchoniathon, as saying that "men first worship plants, next the heavenly bodies, supposed to be animals, then 'pillars' (emblems of the procreator), and last, the anthropomorphic gods." ( ) "he shall establish" and "in it is strength" are in the bible the marginal interpretations of these two words. ( ) the connection between the production of fire by means of the fire-drill and the generation of life by sex-intercourse is a very obvious one, and lends itself to magical ideas. j. e. hewitt in his ruling races of prehistoric times ( ) says (vol. i, p. ) that "magha, the mother-goddess worshipped in asia minor, was originally the socket-block from which fire was generated by the fire-drill." hence we have, he says, the magi of persia, and the maghadas of indian history, also the word "magic." it is not necessary to enlarge on this subject. the facts of the connection of sexual rites with religious services nearly everywhere in the early world are, as i say, sufficiently patent to every inquirer. but it is necessary to try to understand the rationale of this connection. to dispatch all such cases under the mere term "religious prostitution" is no explanation. the term suggests, of course, that the plea of religion was used simply as an excuse and a cover for sexual familiarities; but though this kind of explanation commends itself, no doubt, to the modern man--whose religion is as commercial as his sex-relationships are--and though in cases no doubt it was a true explanation--yet it is obvious that among people who took religion seriously, as a matter of life and death and who did not need hypocritical excuses or covers for sex-relationships, it cannot be accepted as in general the right explanation. no, the real explanation is--and i will return to this presently--that sexual relationships are so deep and intimate a part of human nature that from the first it has been simply impossible to keep them out of religion--it being of course the object of religion to bring the whole human being into some intelligible relation with the physical, moral, and if you like supernatural order of the great world around him. sex was felt from the first to be part, and a foundational part, of the great order of the world and of human nature; and therefore to separate it from religion was unthinkable and a kind of contradiction in terms. ( ) ( ) for further development of this subject see ch. xv. if that is true--it will be asked--how was it that that divorce did take place--that the taboo did arise? how was it that the jews, under the influence of josiah and the hebrew prophets, turned their faces away from sex and strenuously opposed the syrian cults? how was it that this reaction extended into christianity and became even more definite in the christian church--that monks went by thousands into the deserts of the thebaid, and that the early fathers and christian apologists could not find terms foul enough to hurl at woman as the symbol (to them) of nothing but sex-corruption and delusion? how was it that this contempt of the body and degradation of sex-things went on far into the middle ages of europe, and ultimately created an organized system of hypocrisy, and concealment and suppression of sex-instincts, which, acting as cover to a vile commercial prostitution and as a breeding ground for horrible disease, has lasted on even to the edge of the present day? this is a fair question, and one which demands an answer. there must have been a reason, and a deep-rooted one, for this remarkable reaction and volte-face which has characterized christianity, and, perhaps to a lesser degree, other both earlier and later cults like those of the buddhists, the egyptians, the aztecs, ( ) and so forth. ( ) for the aztecs, see acosta, vol. ii, p. (london, ). it may be said--and this is a fair answer on the surface of the problem--that the main reason was something in the nature of a reaction. the excesses and corruptions of sex in syria had evidently become pretty bad, and that very fact may have led to a pendulum-swing of the jewish church in the opposite direction; and again in the same way the general laxity of morals in the decay of the roman empire may have confirmed the church of early christendom in its determination to keep along the great high road of asceticism. the christian followed on the jewish and egyptian churches, and in this way a great tradition of sexual continence and anti-pagan morality came right down the centuries even into modern times. this seems so far a reasonable theory; but i think we shall go farther and get nearer the heart of the problem if we revert to the general clue which i have followed already more than once--the clue of the necessary evolution of human consciousnss. in the first or animal stage of human evolution, sex was (as among the animals) a perfectly necessary, instinctive and unself-conscious activity. it was harmonious with itself, natural, and unproductive of evil. but when the second stage set in, in which man became preponderantly self-conscious, he inevitably set about deflecting sex-activities to his own private pleasure and advantage; he employed his budding intellect in scheming the derailment of passion and desire from tribal needs and, nature's uses to the poor details of his own gratification. if the first stage of harmonious sex-instinct and activity may be held as characteristic of the golden age, the second stage must be taken to represent the fall of man and his expulsion from paradise in the garden of eden story. the pleasure and glory of sex having been turned to self-purposes, sex itself became the great sin. a sense of guilt overspread man's thoughts on the subject. "he knew that he was naked," and he fled from the voice and face of the lord. from that moment one of the main objects of his life (in its inner and newer activities) came to be the denial of sex. sex was conceived of as the great antagonist, the old serpent lying ever in wait to betray him; and there arrived a moment in the history of every race, and of every representative religion, when the sexual rites and ceremonies of the older time lost their naive and quasi-innocent character and became afflicted with a sense of guilt and indecency. this extraordinarily interesting and dramatic moment in human evolution was of course that in which self-consciousness grew powerful enough to penetrate to the centre of human vitality, the sanctumof man's inner life, his sexual instinct, and to deal it a terrific blow--a blow from which it has never yet recovered, and from which indeed it will not recover, until the very nature of man's inner life is changed. it may be said that it was very foolish of man to deny and to try to expel a perfectly natural and sensible thing, a necessary and indispensable part of his own nature. and that, as far as i can see, is perfectly true. but sometimes it is unavoidable, it would seem, to do foolish things--if only to convince oneself of one's own foolishness. on the other hand, this policy on the part of man was certainly very wise--wiser than he knew--for in attempting to drive out sex (which of course he could not do) he entered into a conflict which was bound to end in the expulsion of something; and that something was the domination, within himself, of self-consciousness, the very thing which makes and ever has made sex detestable. man did not succeed in driving the snake out of the garden, but he drove himself out, taking the real old serpent of self-greed and self-gratification with him. when some day he returns to paradise this latter will have died in his bosom and been cast away, but he will find the good snake there as of old, full of healing and friendliness, among the branches of the tree of life. besides it is evident from other considerations that this moment of the denial of sex had to come. when one thinks of the enormous power of this passion, and its age-long, hold upon the human race, one realizes that once liberated from the instinctive bonds of nature, and backed by a self-conscious and self-seeking human intelligence it was on the way to become a fearful curse. a monstrous eft was of old the lord and master of earth; for him did his high sun flame, and his river billowing ran. and this may have been all very well and appropriate in the carboniferous epoch, but we in the end of time have no desire to fall under any such preposterous domination, or to return to the primal swamps from which organic nature has so slowly and painfully emerged. i say it was the entry of self-consciousness into the sphere of sex, and the consequent use of the latter for private ends, which poisoned this great race-power at its root. for above all, sex, as representing through childbirth the life of the race (or of the tribe, or, if you like, of humanity at large) should be sacred and guarded from merely selfish aims, and therefore to use it only for such aims is indeed a desecration. and even if--as some maintain and i think rightly ( )--sex is not merely for child-birth and physical procreation, but for mutual vitalizing and invigoration, it still subserves union and not egotism; and to use it egotistically is to commit the sin of separation indeed. it is to cast away and corrupt the very bond of life and fellowship. the ancient peoples at any rate threw an illumination of religious (that is, of communal and public) value over sex-acts, and to a great extent made them into matters either of temple-ritual and the worship of the gods, or of communal and pandemic celebration, as in the saturnalia and other similar festivals. we have certainly no right to regard these celebrations--of either kind--as insincere. they were, at any rate in their inception, genuinely religious or genuinely social and festal; and from either point of view they were far better than the secrecy of private indulgence which characterizes our modern world in these matters. the thorough and shameless commercialism of sex has alas! been reserved for what is called "christian civilization," and with it (perhaps as a necessary consequence) prostitution and syphilis have grown into appalling evils, accompanied by a gigantic degradation of social standards, and upgrowth of petty philistinism and niaiserie. love, in fact, having in this modern world-movement been denied, and its natural manifestations affected with a sense of guilt and of sin, has really languished and ceased to play its natural part in life; and a vast number of people--both men and women, finding themselves barred or derailed from the main object of existence, have turned their energies to 'business' or 'money-making' or 'social advancement' or something equally futile, as the only poor substitute and pis aller open to them. ( ) see havelock ellis, the objects of marriage, a pamphlet published by the "british society for the study of sex-psychology." why (again we ask) did christianity make this apparently great mistake? and again we must reply: perhaps the mistake was not so great as it appears to be. perhaps this was another case of the necessity of learning by loss. love had to be denied, in the form of sex, in order that it might thus the better learn its own true values and needs. sex had to be rejected, or defiled with the sense of guilt and self-seeking, in order that having cast out its defilement it might return one day, transformed in the embrace of love. the whole process has had a deep and strange world-significance. it has led to an immensely long period of suppression--suppression of two great instincts--the physical instinct of sex and the emotional instinct of love. two things which should naturally be conjoined have been separated; and both have suffered. and we know from the freudian teachings what suppressions in the root-instincts necessarily mean. we know that they inevitably terminate in diseases and distortions of proper action, either in the body or in the mind, or in both; and that these evils can only be cured by the liberation of the said instincts again to their proper expression and harmonious functioning in the whole organism. no wonder then that, with this agelong suppression (necessary in a sense though it may have been) which marks the christian dispensation, there should have been associated endless sickness and crime and sordid poverty, the crucifixion of animals in the name of science and of human workers in the name of wealth, and wars and horrors innumerable! hercules writhing in the nessus-shirt or prometheus nailed to the rocks are only as figures of a toy miniature compared with this vision of the great and divine spirit of man caught in the clutches of those dread diseases which through the centuries have been eating into his very heart and vitals. it would not be fair to pile on the christian church the blame for all this. it had, no doubt, its part to play in the whole great scheme, namely, to accentuate the self-motive; and it played the part very thoroughly and successfully. for it must be remembered (what i have again and again insisted on) that in the pagan cults it was always the salvation of the clan, the tribe, the people that was the main consideration; the advantage of the individual took only a very secondary part. but in christendom--after the communal enthusiasms of apostolic days and of the medieval and monastic brotherhoods and sisterhoods had died down--religion occupied itself more and more with each man or woman's individual salvation, regardless of what might happen to the community; till, with the rise of protestantism and puritanism, this tendency reached such an extreme that, as some one has said, each man was absorbed in polishing up his own little soul in a corner to himself, in entire disregard to the damnation which might come to his neighbor. religion, and morality too, under the commercial regime became, as was natural, perfectly selfish. it was always: "am _i_ saved? am _i_ doing the right thing? am _i_ winning the favor of god and man? will my claims to salvation be allowed? did _i_ make a good bargain in allowing jesus to be crucified for me?" the poison of a diseased self-consciousness entered into the whole human system. as i say, one must not blame the christians too much for all this--partly because, after the communal periods which i have just mentioned, christianity was evidently deeply influenced by the rise of commercialism, to which during the last two centuries it has so carefully and piously adapted itself; and partly because--if our view is anywhere near right--this microbial injection of self-consciousness was just the necessary work which (in conjunction with commercialism) it had to perform. but though one does not blame christianity one cannot blind oneself to its defects--the defects necessarily arising from the part it had to play. when one compares a healthy pagan ritual--say of apollo or dionysus--including its rude and crude sacrifices if you like, but also including its whole-hearted spontaneity and dedication to the common life and welfare--with the morbid self-introspection of the christian and the eternally recurring question "what shall i do to be saved?"--the comparison is not favorable to the latter. there is (at any rate in modern days) a mawkish milk-and-wateriness about the christian attitude, and also a painful self-consciousness, which is not pleasant; and though nietzsche's blonde beast is a sufficiently disagreeable animal, one almost thinks that it were better to be that than to go about with one's head meekly hanging on one side, and talking always of altruism and self-sacrifice, while in reality one's heart was entirely occupied with the question of one's own salvation. there is besides a lamentable want of grit and substance about the christian doctrines and ceremonials. somehow under the sex-taboo they became spiritualized and etherealized out of all human use. study the initiation-rites of any savage tribe--with their strict discipline of the young braves in fortitude, and the overcoming of pain and fear; with their very detailed lessons in the arts of war and life and the duties of the grown man to his tribe; and with their quite practical instruction in matters of sex; and then read our little baptismal and confirmation services, which ought to correspond thereto. how thin and attenuated and weak the latter appear! or compare the holy communion, as celebrated in the sentimental atmosphere of a protestant church, with an ancient eucharistic feast of real jollity and community of life under the acknowledged presence of the god; or the roman catholic service of the mass, including its genuflexions and mock oblations and droning ritual sing-song, with the actual sacrifice in early days of an animal-god-victim on a blazing altar; and i think my meaning will be clear. we do not want, of course, to return to all the crudities and barbarities of the past; but also we do not want to become attenuated and spiritualized out of all mundane sense and recognition, and to live in an otherworld paradise void of application to earthly affairs. the sex-taboo in christianity was apparently, as i have said, an effort of the human soul to wrest itself free from the entanglement of physical lust--which lust, though normal and appropriate and in a way gracious among the animals, had through the domination of self-consciousness become diseased and morbid or monstrous in man. the work thus done has probably been of the greatest value to the human race; but, just as in other cases it has sometimes happened that the effort to do a certain work has resulted in the end in an unbalanced exaggeration so here. we are beginning to see now the harmful side of the repression of sex, and are tentatively finding our way back again to a more pagan attitude. and as this return-movement is taking place at a time when, from many obvious signs, the self-conscious, grasping, commercial conception of life is preparing to go on the wane, and the sense of solidarity to re-establish itself, there is really good hope that our return-journey may prove in some degree successful. man progresses generally, not both legs at once like a sparrow, but by putting one leg forward first, and then the other. there was this advantage in the christian taboo of sex that by discouraging the physical and sensual side of love it did for the time being allow the spiritual side to come forward. but, as i have just now indicated, there is a limit to that process. we cannot always keep one leg first in walking, and we do not want, in life, always to put the spiritual first, nor always the material and sensual. the two sides in the long run have to keep pace with each other. and it may be that a great number of the very curious and seemingly senseless taboos that we find among the primitive peoples can be partly explained in this way: that is, that by ruling out certain directions of activity they enabled people to concentrate more effectually, for the time being, on other directions. to primitive folk the great world, whose ways are puzzling enough in all conscience to us, must have been simply bewildering in its dangers and complications. it was an amazement of fear and ignorance. thunderbolts might come at any moment out of the blue sky, or a demon out of an old tree trunk, or a devastating plague out of a bad smell--or apparently even out of nothing at all! under those circumstances it was perhaps wise, wherever there was the smallest suspicion of danger or ill-luck, to create a hard and fast taboo--just as we tell our children on no account to walk under a ladder (thereby creating a superstition in their minds), partly because it would take too long to explain all about the real dangers of paint-pots and other things, and partly because for the children themselves it seems simpler to have a fixed and inviolable law than to argue over every case that occurs. the priests and elders among early folk no doubt took the line of forbiddal of activities, as safer and simpler, even if carried sometimes too far, than the opposite, of easy permission and encouragement. taboos multiplied--many of them quite senseless--but perhaps in this perilous maze of the world, of which i have spoken, it really was simpler to cut out a large part of the labyrinth, as forbidden ground, thus rendering it easier for the people to find their way in those portions of the labyrinth which remained. if you read in deuteronomy (ch. xiv) the list of birds and beasts and fishes permitted for food among the israelites, or tabooed, you will find the list on the whole reasonable, but you will be struck by some curious exceptions (according to our ideas), which are probably to be explained by the necessity of making the rules simple enough to be comprehended by everybody--even if they included the forbiddal of some quite eatable animals. at some early period, in babylonia or assyria, a very stringent taboo on the sabbath arose, which, taken up in turn by the jewish and christian churches, has ruled the western world for three thousand years or more, and still survives in a quite senseless form among some of our rural populations, who will see their corn rot in the fields rather than save it on a sunday. ( ) it is quite likely that this taboo in its first beginning was due not to any need of a weekly rest-day (a need which could never be felt among nomad savages, but would only occur in some kind of industrial and stationary civilization), but to some superstitious fear, connected with such things as the changes of the moon, and the probable ill-luck of any enterprise undertaken on the seventh day, or any day of moon-change. it is probable, however, that as time went on and society became more complex, the advantages of a weekly rest-day (or market-day) became more obvious and that the priests and legislators deliberately turned the taboo to a social use. ( ) the learned modern ethnologists, however, will generally have none of this latter idea. as a rule they delight in representing early peoples as totally destitute of common sense (which is supposed to be a monopoly of us moderns!); and if the sabbath-arrangement has had any value or use they insist on ascribing this to pure accident, and not to the application of any sane argument or reason. ( ) for other absurd sunday taboos see westermarck on the moral ideas, vol. ii, p. . ( ) for a tracing of this taboo from useless superstition to practical utility see hastings's encycl. religion and ethics, art. "the sabbath." it is true indeed that a taboo--in order to be a proper taboo--must not rest in the general mind on argument or reason. it may have had good sense in the past or even an underlying good sense in the present, but its foundation must rest on something beyond. it must be an absolute fiat--something of the nature of a mystery ( ) or of religion or magic-and not to be disputed. this gives it its blood-curdling quality. the rustic does not know what would happen to him if he garnered his corn on sunday, nor does the diner-out in polite society know what would happen if he spooned up his food with his knife--but they both are stricken with a sort of paralysis at the very suggestion of infringing these taboos. ( ) see westermarck, ibid., ii. . marriage-customs have always been a fertile field for the generation of taboos. it seems doubtful whether anything like absolute promiscuity ever prevailed among the human race, but there is much to show that wide choice and intercourse were common among primitive folk and that the tendency of later marriage custom has been on the whole to limit this range of choice. at some early period the forbiddal of marriage between those who bore the same totem-name took place. thus in australia "no man of the emu stock might marry an emu woman; no blacksnake might marry a blacksnake woman, and so forth." ( ) among the kamilaroi and the arunta of s. australia the tribe was divided into classes or clans, sometimes four, sometimes eight, and a man of one particular clan was only marriageable with a woman of another particular clan--say ( ) with ( ) or ( ) with ( ), and so on. ( ) customs with a similar tendency, but different in detail, seem to have prevailed among native tribes in central africa and n. america. and the regulations in all this matter have been so (apparently) entirely arbitrary in the various cases that it would almost appear as if the bar of kinship through the totem had been the excuse, originating perhaps in some superstition, but that the real and more abiding object was simply limitation. and this perhaps was a wise line to take. a taboo on promiscuity had to be created, and for this purpose any current prejudice could be made use of. ( ) ( ) myth, ritual and religion, i, p. . ( ) see spencer and gillen, native tribes of australia. ( ) the author of the mystic rose seems to take this view. see p. of that book. with us moderns the whole matter has taken a different complexion. when we consider the enormous amount of suffering and disease, both of mind and body, arising from the sex-suppression of which i have just spoken, especially among women, we see that mere unreasoning taboos--which possibly had their place and use in the past--can be tolerated no longer. we are bound to turn the searchlight of reason and science on a number of superstitions which still linger in the dark and musty places of the churches and the law courts. modern inquiry has shown conclusively not only the foundational importance of sex in the evolution of each human being, but also the very great variety of spontaneous manifestations in different individuals and the vital necessity that these should be recognized, if society is ever to expand into a rational human form. it is not my object here to sketch the future of marriage and sex-relations generally--a subject which is now being dealt with very effectively from many sides; but only to insist on our using our good sense in the whole matter, and refusing any longer to be bound by senseless pre-judgments. something of the same kind may be said with regard to nakedness, which in modern civilization has become the object of a very serious and indeed harmful taboo; both of speech and act. as someone has said, it became in the end of the nineteenth century almost a crime to mention by name any portion of the human body within a radius of about twenty inches from its centre (!) and as a matter of fact a few dress-reformers of that period were actually brought into court and treated as criminals for going about with legs bare up to the knees, and shoulders and chest uncovered! public follies such as these have been responsible for much of the bodily and mental disease and suppression just mentioned, and the sooner they are sent to limbo the better. no sensible person would advocate promiscuous nakedness any more than promiscuous sex-relationship; nor is it likely that aged and deformed people would at any time wish to expose themselves. but surely there is enough good sense and appreciation of grace and fitness in the average human mind for it to be able to liberate the body from senseless concealment, and give it its due expression. the greeks of old, having on the whole clean bodies, treated them with respect and distinction. the young men appeared quite naked in the palaestra, and even the girls of sparta ran races publicly in the same condition; ( ) and some day when our bodies (and minds too) have become clean we shall return to similar institutions. but that will not be just yet. as long as the defilement of this commercial civilization is on us we shall prefer our dirt and concealment. the powers that be will protest against change. heinrich scham, in his charming little pamphlet nackende menschen, ( ) describes the consternation of the commercial people at such ideas: "'what will become of us,' cried the tailors, 'if you go naked?' "and all the lot of them, hat, cravat, shirt, and shoemakers joined in the chorus. "'and where shall i carry my money?' cried one who had just been made a director." ( ) see theocritus, idyll xviii. ( ) published at leipzig about . xiii. the genesis of christianity referring back to the existence of something resembling a great world-religion which has come down the centuries, continually expanding and branching in the process, we have now to consider the genesis of that special brand or branch of it which we call christianity. each religion or cult, pagan or christian, has had, as we have seen, a vast amount in common with the general world-religion; yet each has had its own special characteristics. what have been the main characteristics of the christian branch, as differentiating it from the other branches? we saw in the last chapter that a certain ascetic attitude towards sex was one of the most salient marks of the christian church; and that whereas most of the pagan cults (though occasionally favoring frightful austerities and cruel sacrifices) did on the whole rejoice in pleasure and the world of the senses, christianity--following largely on judaism--displayed a tendency towards renunciation of the world and the flesh, and a withdrawal into the inner and more spiritual regions of the mind. the same tendency may be traced in the egyptian and phrygian cults of that period. it will be remembered how juvenal (sat. vi, - ) chaffs the priests of cybele at rome for making themselves "eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake," or the rich roman lady for plunging in the wintry tiber for a propitiation to isis. no doubt among the later pagans "the long intolerable tyranny of the senses over the soul" had become a very serious matter. but christianity represented perhaps the most powerful reaction against this; and this reaction had, as indicated in the last chapter, the enormously valuable result that (for the time) it disentangled love from sex and established love, pure and undefiled, as ruler of the world. "god is love." but, as also indicated, the divorce between the two elements of human nature, carried to an extreme, led in time to a crippling of both elements and the development of a certain morbidity and self-consciousness which, it cannot be denied, is painfully marked among some sections of christians--especially those of the altruistic and 'philanthropic' type. another characteristic of christianity which is also very fine in its way but has its limits of utility, has been its insistence on "morality." some modern writers indeed have gone so far--forgetting, i suppose, the stoics--as to claim that christianity's chief mark is its high morality, and that the pagans generally were quite wanting in the moral sense! this, of course, is a profound mistake. i should say that, in the true sense of the word, the early and tribal peoples have been much more 'moral' as a rule--that is, ready as individuals to pay respect to the needs of the community--than the later and more civilized societies. but the mistake arises from the different interpretations of the word; for whereas all the pagan religions insisted very strongly on the just-mentioned kind of morality, which we should call civic duty to one's neighbor, the christian made morality to consist more especially in a mans duty to god. it became with them a private affair between a mans self and-god, rather than a public affair; and thus led in the end to a very obnoxious and quite pharisaic kind of morality, whose chief inspiration was not the helping of one's fellow-man but the saving of one's own soul. there may perhaps be other salient points of differentiation between christianity and the preceding pagan religions; but for the present we may recognize these two--(a) the tendency towards a renunciation of the world, and the consequent cultivation of a purely spiritual love and (b) the insistence on a morality whose inspiration was a private sense of duty to god rather than a public sense of duty to one's neighbor and to society generally. it may be interesting to trace the causes which led to this differentiation. three centuries before our era the conquests of alexander had had the effect of spreading the greek thought and culture over most of the known world. a vast number of small bodies of worshipers of local deities, with their various rituals and religious customs, had thus been broken up, or at least brought into contact with each other and partially modified and hellenized. the orbit of a more general conception of life and religion was already being traced. by the time of the founding of the first christian church the immense conquests of rome had greatly extended and established the process. the mediterranean had become a great roman lake. merchant ships and routes of traffic crossed it in all directions; tourists visited its shores. the known world had become one. the numberless peoples, tribes, nations, societies within the girdle of the empire, with their various languages, creeds, customs, religions, philosophies, were profoundly influencing each other. ( ) a great fusion was taking place; and it was becoming inevitable that the next great religious movement would have a world-wide character. ( ) for an enlargement on this theme see glover's conflict of religions in the early roman empire; also s. j. case, evolution of early christianity (university of chicago, ). the adonis worship, for instance (a resurrection-cult), "was still thriving in syria and cyprus when paul preached there," and the worship of isis and serapis had already reached then, rome and naples. it was probable that this new religion would combine many elements from the preceding rituals in one cult. in connection with the fine temples and elaborate services of isis and cybele and mithra there was growing up a powerful priesthood; franz cumont ( ) speaks of "the learned priests of the asiatic cults" as building up, on the foundations of old fetichism and superstition, a complete religious philosophy--just as the brahmins had built the monism of the vedanta on the "monstrous idolatries of hinduism." and it was likely that a similar process would evolve the new religion expected. toutain again calls attention to the patronage accorded to all these cults by the roman emperors, as favoring a new combination and synthesis:--"hadrien, commode, septime severe, julia domna, elagabal, alexandre severe, en particulier ont contribue personnellement a la popularite et au succes des cultes qui se celebraient en l'honneur de serapis et d'isis, des divinites syriennes et de mithra." ( ) ( ) see cumont, religions orientales dans le paganisme romain (paris, ), p. . ( ) cultes paiens dans l'empire romain ( vols., ), vol. ii, p. . it was also probable that this new religion would show (as indicated in the last chapter) a reaction against mere sex-indulgence; and, as regards its standard of morality generally, that, among so many conflicting peoples with their various civic and local customs, it could not well identify itself with any one of these but would evolve an inner inspiration of its own which in its best form would be love of the neighbor, regardless of the race, creed or customs of the neighbor, and whose sanction would not reside in any of the external authorities thus conflicting with each other, but in the sense of the soul's direct responsibility to god. so much for what we might expect a priori as to the influence of the surroundings on the general form of the new religion. and what about the kind of creed or creeds which that religion would favor? here again we must see that the influence of the surroundings compelled a certain result. those doctrines which we have described in the preceding chapters--doctrines of sin and sacrifice, a savior, the eucharist, the trinity, the virgin-birth, and so forth--were in their various forms seething, so to speak, all around. it was impossible for any new religious synthesis to escape them; all it could do would be to appropriate them, and to give them perhaps a color of its own. thus it is into the midst of this germinating mass that we must imagine the various pagan cults, like fertilizing streams, descending. to trace all these streams would of course be an impossible task; but it may be of use, as an example of the process, to take the case of some particular belief. let us take the belief in the coming of a savior-god; and this will be the more suitable as it is a belief which has in the past been commonly held to be distinctive of christianity. of course we know now that it is not in any sense distinctive, but that the long tradition of the savior comes down from the remotest times, and perhaps from every country of the world. ( ) the messianic prophecies of the jews and the fifty-third chapter of isaiah emptied themselves into the christian teachings, and infected them to some degree with a judaic tinge. the "messiah" means of course the anointed one. the hebrew word occurs some times in the old testament; and each time in the septuagint or greek translation (made mainly in the third century before our era) the word is translated [gr cristos], or christos, which again means anointed. thus we see that the idea or the word "the christ" was in vogue in alexandria as far back certainly as b.c., or nearly three centuries before jesus. and what the word "the anointed" strictly speaking means, and from what the expression is probably derived, will appear later. in the book of enoch, written not later than b.c. , ( ) the christ is spoken of as already existing in heaven, and about to come as judge of all men, and is definitely called "the son of man." the book of revelations is full of passages from enoch; so are the epistles of paul; so too the gospels. the book of enoch believes in a golden age that is to come; it has dantesque visions of heaven and hell, and of angels good and evil, and it speaks of a "garden of righteousness" with the "tree of wisdom" in its midst. everywhere, says prof. drews, in the first century b.c., there was the longing for a coming savior. ( ) even to-day, the arabian lands are always vibrating with prophecies of a coming mahdi. ( ) see edition by r. h. charles ( ). but the savior-god, as we also know, was a familiar figure in egypt. the great osiris was the savior of the world, both in his life and death: in his life through the noble works he wrought for the benefit of mankind, and in his death through his betrayal by the powers of darkness and his resurrection from the tomb and ascent into heaven. ( ) the egyptian doctrines descended through alexandria into christianity--and though they did not influence the latter deeply until about a.d., yet they then succeeded in reaching the christian churches, giving a color to their teachings with regard to the savior, and persuading them to accept and honor the egyptian worship of isis in the christian form of the virgin mary. ( ) see ch. ii. again, another great stream of influence descended from persia in the form of the cult of mithra. mithra, as we have seen, ( ) stood as a great mediator between god and man. with his baptisms and eucharists, and his twelve disciples, and his birth in a cave, and so forth, he seemed to the early fathers an invention of the devil and a most dangerous mockery on christianity--and all the more so because his worship was becoming so exceedingly popular. the cult seems to have reached rome about b.c. . it spread far and wide through the empire. it extended to great britain, and numerous remains of mithraic monuments and sculptures in this country--at york, chester and other places--testify to its wide acceptance even here. at rome the vogue of mithraism became so great that in the third century a. d., it was quite doubtful ( ) whether it or christianity would triumph; the emperor aurelian in founded a cult of the invincible sun in connection with mithraism; ( ) and as st. jerome tells us in his letters, ( ) the latter cult had at a later time to be suppressed in rome and alexandria by physical force, so powerful was it. ( ) ch. ii. ( ) see cumont, op. cit., who says, p. :--"jamais, pas meme a l'epoque des invasions mussulmanes, l'europe ne sembla plus pres de devenir asiatique qu'au moment ou diocletien reconnaissait officiellement en mithra, le protecteur de l'empire reconstitue." see also cumont's mysteres de mithra, preface. the roman army, in fact, stuck to mithra throughout, as against christianity; and so did the roman nobility. (see s. augustine's confessions, book viii, ch. .) ( ) cumont indeed says that the identification of mithra with the sun (the emblem of imperial power) formed one reason why mithraism was not persecuted at that time. ( ) epist. cvii, ad laetam. see robertson's pagan christs, p. . nor was force the only method employed. imitation is not only the sincerest flattery, but it is often the most subtle and effective way of defeating a rival. the priests of the rising christian church were, like the priests of all religions, not wanting in craft; and at this moment when the question of a world-religion was in the balance, it was an obvious policy for them to throw into their own scale as many elements as possible of the popular pagan cults. mithraism had been flourishing for years; and it is, to say the least, curious that the mithraic doctrines and legends which i have just mentioned should all have been adopted (quite unintentionally of course!) into christianity; and still more so that some others from the same source, like the legend of the shepherds at the nativity and the doctrine of the resurrection and ascension, which are not mentioned at all in the original draft of the earliest gospel (st. mark), should have made their appearance, in the christian writings at a later time, when mithraism was making great forward strides. history shows that as a church progresses and expands it generally feels compelled to enlarge and fortify its own foundations by inserting material which was not there at first. i shall shortly give another illustration of this; at present i will merely point out that the christian writers, as time went on, not only introduced new doctrines, legends, miracles and so forth--most of which we can trace to antecedent pagan sources--but that they took especial pains to destroy the pagan records and so obliterate the evidence of their own dishonesty. we learn from porphyry ( ) that there were several elaborate treatises setting forth the religion of mithra; and j. m. robertson adds (pagan christs, p. ): "everyone of these has been destroyed by the care of the church, and it is remarkable that even the treatise of firmicus is mutilated at a passage (v.) where he seems to be accusing christians of following mithraic usages." while again professor murray says, "the polemic literature of christianity is loud and triumphant; the books of the pagans have been destroyed." ( ) ( ) de abstinentia, ii. ; iv. . ( ) four stages, p. . we have probably an instance of this destruction in the total disappearance of celsus' lively attack on christianity ( a.d.), of which, however, portions have been fortunately preserved in origen's rather prolix refutation of the same. returning to the doctrine of the savior, i have already in preceding chapters given so many instances of belief in such a deity among the pagans--whether he be called krishna or mithra or osiris or horus or apollo or hercules--that it is not necessary to dwell on the subject any further in order to persuade the reader that the doctrine was 'in the air' at the time of the advent of christianity. even dionysus, then a prominent figure in the 'mysteries,' was called eleutherios, the deliverer. but it may be of interest to trace the same doctrine among the pre-christian sects of gnostics. the gnostics, says professor murray, ( ) "are still commonly thought of as a body of christian heretics. in reality there were gnostic sects scattered over the hellenistic world before christianity as well as after. they must have been established in antioch and probably in tarsus well before the days of paul or apollos. their savior, like the jewish messiah, was established in men's minds before the savior of the christians. 'if we look close,' says professor bousset, 'the result emerges with great clearness that the figure of the redeemer as such did not wait for christianity to force its way into the religion of gnosis, but was already present there under various forms.'" ( ) four stages, p. . this gnostic redeemer, continues professor murray, "is descended by a fairly clear genealogy from the 'tritos soter' ('third savior') ( ) of early greece, contaminated with similar figures, like attis and adonis from asia minor, osiris from egypt, and the special jewish conception of the messiah of the chosen people. he has various names, which the name of jesus or 'christos,' 'the anointed,' tends gradually to supersede. above all, he is in some sense man, or 'the second man' or 'the son of man'... he is the real, the ultimate, the perfect and eternal man, of whom all bodily men are feeble copies." ( ) ( ) there seems to be some doubt about the exact meaning of this expression. even zeus himself was sometimes called 'soter,' and at feasts, it is said, the third goblet was always drunk in his honor. ( ) see also the gnostic story of jesus christ, by gilbert t. sadler (c. w. daniel, ). this passage brings vividly before the mind the process of which i have spoken, namely, the fusion and mutual interchange of ideas on the subject of the savior during the period anterior to our era. also it exemplifies to us through what an abstract sphere of gnostic religious speculation the doctrine had to travel before reaching its expression in christianity. ( ) this exalted and high philosophical conception passed on and came out again to some degree in the fourth gospel and the pauline epistles (especially i cor. xv); but i need hardly say it was not maintained. the enthusiasm of the little scattered christian bodies--with their communism of practice with regard to this world and their intensity of faith with regard to the next--began to wane in the second and third centuries a.d. as the church (with capital initial) grew, so was it less and less occupied with real religious feeling, and more and more with its battles against persecution from outside, and its quarrels and dissensions concerning heresies within its own borders. and when at the council of nicaea ( a.d.) it endeavored to establish an official creed, the strife and bitterness only increased. "there is no wild beast," said the emperor julian, "like an angry theologian." where the fourth evangelist had preached the gospel of love, and paul had announced redemption by an inner and spiritual identification with christ, "as in adam all die, so in christ shall all be made alive"; and whereas some at any rate of the pagan cults had taught a glorious salvation by the new birth of a divine being within each man: "be of good cheer, o initiates in the mystery of the liberated god; for to you too out of all your labors and sorrows shall come liberation"--the nicene creed had nothing to propound except some extremely futile speculations about the relation to each other of the father and the son, and the relation of both to the holy ghost, and of all three to the virgin mary--speculations which only served for the renewal of shameful strife and animosities--riots and bloodshed and murder--within the church, and the mockery of the heathen without. and as far as it dealt with the crucifixion, death and resurrection of the lord it did not differ from the score of preceding pagan creeds, except in the thorough materialism and lack of poetry in statement which it exhibits. after the council of nicaea, in fact, the judaic tinge in the doctrines of the church becomes more apparent, and more and more its scheme of salvation through christ takes the character of a rather sordid and huckstering bargain by which man gets the better of god by persuading the latter to sacrifice his own son for the redemption of the world! with the exception of a few episodes like the formation during the middle ages of the noble brotherhoods and sisterhoods of frairs and nuns, dedicated to the help and healing of suffering humanity, and the appearance of a few real lovers of mankind (and the animals) like st. francis--(and these manifestations can hardly be claimed by the church, which pretty consistently opposed them)--it may be said that after about the fourth century the real spirit and light of early christian enthusiasm died away. the incursions of barbarian tribes from the north and east, and later of moors and arabs from the south, familiarized the european peoples with the ideas of bloodshed and violence; gross and material conceptions of life were in the ascendant; and a romantic and aspiring christianity gave place to a worldly and vulgar churchianity. ( ) when travelling in india i found that the gnanis or wise men there quite commonly maintained that jesus (judging from his teaching) must have been initiated at some time in the esoteric doctrines of the vedanta. i have in these two or three pages dealt only--and that very briefly--with the entry of the pagan doctrine of the savior into the christian field, showing its transformation there and how christianity could not well escape having a doctrine of a savior, or avoid giving a color of its own to that doctrine. to follow out the same course with other doctrines, like those which i have mentioned above, would obviously be an endless task--which must be left to each student or reader to pursue according to his opportunity and capacity. it is clear anyhow, that all these elements of the pagan religions--pouring down into the vast reservoir, or rather whirlpool, of the roman empire, and mixing among all these numerous brotherhoods, societies, collegia, mystery-clubs, and groups which were at that time looking out intently for some new revelation or inspiration--did more or less automatically act and react upon each other, and by the general conditions prevailing were modified, till they ultimately combined and took united shape in the movement which we call christianity, but which only--as i have said--narrowly escaped being called mithraism--so nearly related and closely allied were these cults with each other. at this point it will naturally be asked: "and where in this scheme of the genesis of christianity is the chief figure and accredited leader of the movement--namely jesus christ himself--for to all appearance in the account here given of the matter he is practically non-existent or a negligible quantity?" and the question is a very pertinent one, and very difficult to answer. "where is the founder of the religion?"--or to put it in another form: "is it necessary to suppose a human and visible founder at all?" a few years ago such a mere question would have been accounted rank blasphemy, and would only--if passed over--have been ignored on account of its supposed absurdity. to-day, however, owing to the enormous amount of work which has been done of late on the subject of christian origins, the question takes on quite a different complexion. and from strauss onwards a growingly influential and learned body of critics is inclined to regard the whole story of the gospels as legendary. arthur drews, for instance, a professor at karlsruhe, in his celebrated book the christ-myth, ( ) places david f. strauss as first in the myth field--though he allows that dupuis in l'origine de tous les cultes ( ) had given the clue to the whole idea. he then mentions bruno bauer ( ) as contending that jesus was a pure invention of mark's, and john m. robertson as having in his christianity and mythology ( ) given the first thoroughly reasoned exposition of the legendary theory; also emilio bossi in italy, who wrote jesu christo non e mai esistito, and similar authors in holland, poland, and other countries, including w. benjamin smith, the american author of the pre-christian jesus ( ), and p. jensen in das gilgamesch epos in den welt-literatur ( ), who makes the jesus-story a variant of the babylonian epic, b.c. a pretty strong list! ( ) "but," continues drews, "ordinary historians still ignore all this." finally, he dismisses jesus as "a figure swimming obscurely in the mists of tradition." nevertheless i need hardly remark that, large and learned as the body of opinion here represented is, a still larger (but less learned) body fights desperately for the actual historicity of jesus, and some even still for the old view of him as a quite unique and miraculous revelation of godhood on earth. ( ) die christus-mythe: verbesserte und erweitezte ausgabe, jena, . ( ) to which we may also add schweitzer's quest of the historical jesus ( ). at first, no doubt, the legendary theory seems a little too far-fetched. there is a fashion in all these things, and it may be that there is a fashion even here. but when you reflect how rapidly legends grow up even in these days of exact science and an omniscient press; how the figure of shakespeare, dead only years, is almost completely lost in the mist of time, and even the authenticity of his works has become a subject of controversy; when you find that william tell, supposed to have lived some years again before shakespeare, and whose deeds in minutest detail have been recited and honored all over europe, is almost certainly a pure invention, and never existed; when you remember--as mentioned earlier in this book ( )--that it was more than five hundred years after the supposed birth of jesus before any serious effort was made to establish the date of that birth--and that then a purely mythical date was chosen: the th december, the day of the sun's new birth after the winter solstice, and the time of the supposed birth of apollo, bacchus, and the other sungods; when, moreover, you think for a moment what the state of historical criticism must have been, and the general standard of credibility, , years ago, in a country like syria, and among an ignorant population, where any story circulating from lip to lip was assured of credence if sufficiently marvelous or imaginative;--why, then the legendary theory does not seem so improbable. there is no doubt that after the destruction of jerusalem (in a.d. ), little groups of believers in a redeeming 'christ' were formed there and in other places, just as there had certainly existed, in the first century b.c., groups of gnostics, therapeutae, essenes and others whose teachings were very similar to the christian, and there was now a demand from many of these groups for 'writings' and 'histories' which should hearten and confirm the young and growing churches. the gospels and epistles, of which there are still extant a great abundance, both apocryphal and canonical, met this demand; but how far their records of the person of jesus of nazareth are reliable history, or how far they are merely imaginative pictures of the kind of man the saviour might be expected to be, ( ) is a question which, as i have already said, is a difficult one for skilled critics to answer, and one on which i certainly have no intention of giving a positive verdict. personally i must say i think the 'legendary' solution quite likely, and in some ways more satisfactory than the opposite one--for the simple reason that it seems much more encouraging to suppose that the story of jesus, (gracious and beautiful as it is) is a myth which gradually formed itself in the conscience of mankind, and thus points the way of humanity's future evolution, than to suppose it to be the mere record of an unique and miraculous interposition of providence, which depended entirely on the powers above, and could hardly be expected to occur again. ( ) ch. ii. ( ) one of celsus' accusations against the christians was that their gospels had been written "several times over" (see origen, contra celsum, ii. , ). however, the question is not what we desire, but what we can prove to be the actual fact. and certainly the difficulties in the way of regarding the gospel story (or stories, for there is not one consistent story) as true are enormous. if anyone will read, for instance, in the four gospels, the events of the night preceding the crucifixion and reckon the time which they would necessarily have taken to enact--the last supper, the agony in the garden, the betrayal by judas, the haling before caiaphas and the sanhedrin, and then before pilate in the hall of judgment (though courts for the trial of malefactors do not generally sit in the middle of the night); then--in luke--the interposed visit to herod, and the return to pilate; pilate's speeches and washing of hands before the crowd; then the scourging and the mocking and the arraying of jesus in purple robe as a king; then the preparation of a cross and the long and painful journey to golgotha; and finally the crucifixion at sunrise;--he will see--as has often been pointed out--that the whole story is physically impossible. as a record of actual events the story is impossible; but as a record or series of notes derived from the witnessing of a "mystery-play"--and such plays with very similar incidents were common enough in antiquity in connection with cults of a dying savior, it very likely is true (one can see the very dramatic character of the incidents: the washing of hands, the threefold denial by peter, the purple robe and crown of thorns, and so forth); and as such it is now accepted by many well-qualified authorities. ( ) ( ) dr. frazer in the golden bough (vol. ix, "the scapegoat," p. ) speaks of the frequency in antiquity of a mystery-play relating to a god-man who gives his life and blood for the people; and he puts forward tentatively and by no means dogmatically the following note:--"such a drama, if we are right, was the original story of esther and mordecai, or (to give their older names) ishtar and marduk. it was played in babylonia, and from babylonia the returning captives brought it to judaea, where it was acted, rather as an historical than a mythical piece, by players who, having to die in grim earnest on a cross or gallows, were naturally drawn from the gaol rather than the green-room. a chain of causes, which because we cannot follow them might--in the loose language of common life--be called an accident, determined that the part of the dying god in this annual play should be thrust upon jesus of nazareth, whom the enemies he had made in high places by his outspoken strictures were resolved to put out of the way." see also vol. iv, "the dying god," in the same book. there are many other difficulties. the raising of lazarus, already dead three days, the turning of water into wine (a miracle attributed to bacchus, of old), the feeding of the five thousand, and others of the marvels are, to say the least, not easy of digestion. the "sermon on the mount" which, with the "lord's prayer" embedded in it, forms the great and accepted repository of 'christian' teaching and piety, is well known to be a collection of sayings from pre-christian writings, including the psalms, isaiah, ecclesiasticus, the secrets of enoch, the shemonehesreh (a book of hebrew prayers), and others; and the fact that this collection was really made after the time of jesus, and could not have originated from him, is clear from the stress which it lays on "persecutions" and "false prophets"--things which were certainly not a source of trouble at the time jesus is supposed to be speaking, though they were at a later time--as well as from the occurrence of the word "gentiles," which being here used apparently in contra-distinction to "christians" could not well be appropriate at a time when no recognized christian bodies as yet existed. but the most remarkable point in this connection is the absolute silence of the gospel of mark on the subject of the resurrection and ascension--that is, of the original gospel, for it is now allowed on all hands that the twelve verses mark xvi. to the end, are a later insertion. considering the nature of this event, astounding indeed, if physically true, and unique in the history of the world, it is strange that this gospel--the earliest written of the four gospels, and nearest in time to the actual evidence--makes no mention of it. the next gospel in point of time--that of matthew--mentions the matter rather briefly and timidly, and reports the story that the body had been stolen from the sepulchre. luke enlarges considerably and gives a whole long chapter to the resurrection and ascension; while the fourth gospel, written fully twenty years later still--say about a. d. --gives two chapters and a great variety of details! this increase of detail, however, as one gets farther and farther from the actual event is just what one always finds, as i have said before, in legendary traditions. a very interesting example of this has lately come to light in the case of the traditions concerning the life and death of the persian bab. the bab, as most of my readers will know, was the founder of a great religious movement which now numbers (or numbered before the great war) some millions of adherents, chiefly mahommedans, christians, jews and parsees. the period of his missionary activity was from to . his gospel was singularly like that of jesus--a gospel of love to mankind--only (as might be expected from the difference of date) with an even wider and more deliberate inclusion of all classes, creeds and races, sinners and saints; and the incidents and entourage of his ministry were also singularly similar. he was born at shiraz in , and growing up a promising boy and youth, fell at the age of under the influence of a certain seyyid kazim, leader of a heterodox sect, and a kind of fore-runner or john the baptist to the bab. the result was a period of mental trouble (like the "temptation in the wilderness"), after which the youth returned to shiraz and at the age of twenty-five began his own mission. his real name was mirza ali muhammad, but he called himself thenceforth the bab, i.e. the gate ("i am the way"); and gradually there gathered round him disciples, drawn by the fascination of his personality and the devotion of his character. but with the rapid increase of his following great jealousy and hatred were excited among the mullahs, the upholders of a fanatical and narrow-minded mahommedanism and quite corresponding to the scribes and pharisees of the new testament. by them he was denounced to the turkish government. he was arrested on a charge of causing political disturbance, and was condemned to death. among his disciples was one favorite, ( ) who was absolutely devoted to his master and refused to leave him at the last. so together they were suspended over the city wall (at tabriz) and simultaneously shot. this was on the th july, . ( ) mirza muhammad ali; and one should note the similarity of the two names. in november --or between that date and october , a book appeared, written by one of the b[a^]b's earliest and most enthusiastic disciples--a merchant of kashan--and giving in quite simple and unpretending form a record of the above events. there is in it no account of miracles or of great pretensions to godhood and the like. it is just a plain history of the life and death of a beloved teacher. it was cordially received and circulated far and wide; and we have no reason for doubting its essential veracity. and even if proved now to be inaccurate in one or two details, this would not invalidate the moral of the rest of the story--which is as follows: after the death of the bab a great persecution took place (in ); there were many babi martyrs, and for some years the general followers were scattered. but in time they gathered themselves together again; successors to the original prophet were appointed--though not without dissensions--and a babi church, chiefly at acca or acre in syria, began to be formed. it was during this period that a great number of legends grew up--legends of miraculous babyhood and boyhood, legends of miracles performed by the mature bab, and so forth; and when the newly-forming church came to look into the matter it concluded (quite naturally!) that such a simple history as i have outlined above would never do for the foundation of its plans, now grown somewhat ambitious. so a new gospel was framed, called the tarikh-i-jadid ("the new history" or "the new way"), embodying and including a lot of legendary matter, and issued with the authority of "the church." this was in - ; and comparing this with the original record (called the point of kaf) we get a luminous view of the growth of fable in those thirty brief years which had elapsed since the bab's death. meanwhile it became very necessary of course to withdraw from circulation as far as possible all copies of the original record, lest they should give the lie to the later 'gospel'; and this apparently was done very effectively--so effectively indeed that professor edward browne (to whom the world owes so much on account of his labors in connection with babism), after arduous search, came at one time to the conclusion that the original was no longer extant. most fortunately, however, the well-known comte de gobineau had in the course of his studies on eastern religions acquired a copy of the point of kaf; and this, after his death, was found among his literary treasures and identified (as was most fitting) by professor browne himself. such in brief is the history of the early babi church ( )--a church which has grown up and expanded greatly within the memory of many yet living. much might be written about it, but the chief point at present is for us to note the well-verified and interesting example it gives of the rapid growth in syria of a religious legend and the reasons which contributed to this growth--and to be warned how much more rapidly similar legends probably grew up in the same land in the middle of the first century, a.d. the story of the bab is also interesting to us because, while this mass of legend was formed around it, there is no possible doubt about the actual existence of a historical nucleus in the person of mirza ali muhammad. ( ) for literature, see edward g. browne's traveller's narrative on the episode of the bab ( ), and his new history of the bab translated from the persian of the tarikh-i-jadid (cambridge, ). also sermons and essays by herbert rix (williams and norgate, ), pp. - , "the persian bab." on the whole, one is sometimes inclined to doubt whether any great movement ever makes itself felt in the world, without dating first from some powerful personality or group of personalities, round which the idealizing and myth-making genius of mankind tends to crystallize. but one must not even here be too certain. something of the apostle paul we know, and something of 'john' the evangelist and writer of the epistle i john; and that the 'christian' doctrines dated largely from the preaching and teaching of these two we cannot doubt; but paul never saw jesus (except "in the spirit"), nor does he ever mention the man personally, or any incident of his actual life (the "crucified christ" being always an ideal figure); and 'john' who wrote the gospel was certainly not the same as the disciple who "lay in jesus' bosom"--though an intercalated verse, the last but one in the gospel, asserts the identity. ( ) ( ) it is obvious, in fact, that the whole of the last chapter of st. john is a later insertion, and again that the two last verses of that chapter are later than the chapter itself! there may have been a historic jesus--and if so, to get a reliable outline of his life would indeed be a treasure; but at present it would seem there is no sign of that. if the historicity of jesus, in any degree, could be proved, it would give us reason for supposing--what i have personally always been inclined to believe--that there was also a historical nucleus for such personages as osiris, mithra, krishna, hercules, apollo and the rest. the question, in fact, narrows itself down to this, have there been in the course of human evolution certain, so to speak, nodal points or periods at which the psychologic currents ran together and condensed themselves for a new start; and has each such node or point of condensation been marked by the appearance of an actual and heroic man (or woman) who supplied a necessary impetus for the new departure, and gave his name to the resulting movement? or is it sufficient to suppose the automatic formation of such nodes or starting-points without the intervention of any special hero or genius, and to imagine that in each case the myth-making tendency of mankind created a legendary and inspiring figure and worshiped the same for a long period afterwards as a god? as i have said before, this is a question which, interesting as it is, is not really very important. the main thing being that the prophetic and creative spirit of mankind has from time to time evolved those figures as idealizations of its "heart's desire" and placed a halo round their heads. the long procession of them becomes a real piece of history--the history of the evolution of the human heart, and of human consciousness. but with the psychology of the whole subject i shall deal in the next chapter. i may here, however, dwell for a moment on two other points which belong properly to this chapter. i have already mentioned the great reliance placed by the advocates of a unique 'revelation' on the high morality taught in the gospels and the new testament generally. there is no need of course to challenge that morality or to depreciate it unduly; but the argument assumes that it is so greatly superior to anything of the kind that had been taught before that we are compelled to suppose something like a revelation to explain its appearance--whereas of course anyone familiar with the writings of antiquity, among the greeks or romans or egyptians or hindus or later jews, knows perfectly well that the reported sayings of jesus and the apostles may be paralleled abundantly from these sources. i have illustrated this already from the sermon on the mount. if anyone will glance at the testament of the twelve patriarchs--a jewish book composed about b. c.--he will see that it is full of moral precepts, and especially precepts of love and forgiveness, so ardent and so noble that it hardly suffers in any way when compared with the new testament teaching, and that consequently no special miracle is required to explain the appearance of the latter. the twelve patriarchs in question are the twelve sons of jacob, and the book consists of their supposed deathbed scenes, in which each patriarch in turn recites his own (more or less imaginary) life and deeds and gives pious counsel to his children and successors. it is composed in a fine and poetic style, and is full of lofty thought, remindful in scores of passages of the gospels--words and all--the coincidences being too striking to be accidental. it evidently had a deep influence on the authors of the gospels, as well as on st. paul. it affirms a belief in the coming of a messiah, and in salvation for the gentiles. the following are some quotations from it: ( ) testament of zebulun (p. ): "my children, i bid you keep the commands of the lord, and show mercy to your neighbours, and have compassion towards all, not towards men only, but also towards beasts." dan (p. ): "love the lord through all your life, and one another with a true heart." joseph (p. ): "i was sick, and the lord visited me; in prison, and my god showed favor unto me." benjamin (p. ): "for as the sun is not defiled by shining on dung and mire, but rather drieth up both and driveth away the evil smell, so also the pure mind, encompassed by the defilements of earth, rather cleanseth them and is not itself defiled." ( ) the references being to the edition by r. h. charles ( ). i think these quotations are sufficient to prove the high standard of this book, which was written in the second century b. c., and from which the new testament authors copiously borrowed. the other point has to do with my statement at the beginning of this chapter that two of the main 'characteristics' of christianity were its insistence on (a) a tendency towards renunciation of the world, and a consequent cultivation of a purely spiritual love, and (b) on a morality whose inspiration was a private sense of duty to god rather than a public sense of duty to one's neighbor and to society generally. i think, however, that the last-mentioned characteristic ought to be viewed in relation to a third, namely, (c) the extraordinarily democratic tendency of the new religion. ( ) celsus (a.d. ) jeered at the early christians for their extreme democracy: "it is only the simpletons, the ignoble, the senseless--slaves and womenfolk and children--whom they wish to persuade (to join their churches) or can persuade"--"wool-dressers and cobblers and fullers, the most uneducated and vulgar persons," and "whosoever is a sinner, or unintelligent or a fool, in a word, whoever is god-forsaken ([gr kakodaimwn]), him the kingdom of god will receive." ( ) thus celsus, the accomplished, clever, philosophic and withal humorous critic, laughed at the new religionists, and prophesied their speedy extinction. nevertheless he was mistaken. there is little doubt that just the inclusion of women and weaklings and outcasts did contribute largely to the spread of christianity (and mithraism). it brought hope and a sense of human dignity to the despised and rejected of the earth. of the immense numbers of lesser officials who carried on the vast organization of the roman empire, most perhaps, were taken from the ranks of the freedmen and quondam slaves, drawn from a great variety of races and already familiar with pagan cults of all kinds--egyptian, syrian, chaldean, iranian, and so forth. ( ) this fact helped to give to christianity--under the fine tolerance of the empire--its democratic character and also its willingness to accept all. the rude and menial masses, who had hitherto been almost beneath the notice of greek and roman culture, flocked in; and though this was doubtless, as time went on, a source of weakness to the church, and a cause of dissension and superstition, yet it was in the inevitable line of human evolution, and had a psychological basis which i must now endeavor to explain. ( ) it is important to note, however, that this same democratic tendency was very marked in mithraism. "il est certain," says cumont, "qu'il a fait ses premieres conquetes dans les classes inferieures de la societe et c'est l'a un fait considerable; le mithracisme est reste longtemps la religion des humbles." mysteres de mithra, p. . ( ) see glover's conflict of religions in the early roman empire, ch. viii. ( ) see toutain, cultes paiens, vol. ii, conclusion. xiv. the meaning of it all the general drift and meaning of the present book must now, i think, from many hints scattered in the course of it, be growing clear. but it will be well perhaps in this chapter, at the risk of some repetition, to bring the whole argument together. and the argument is that since the dawn of humanity on the earth--many hundreds of thousands or perhaps a million years ago--there has been a slow psychologic evolution, a gradual development or refinement of consciousness, which at a certain stage has spontaneously given birth in the human race to the phenomena of religious belief and religious ritual--these phenomena (whether in the race at large or in any branch of it) always following, step by step, a certain order depending on the degrees of psychologic evolution concerned; and that it is this general fact which accounts for the strange similarities of belief and ritual which have been observed all over the world and in places far remote from each other, and which have been briefly noted in the preceding chapters. and the main stages of this psychologic evolution--those at any rate with which we are here concerned--are three: the stage of simple consciousness, the stage of self-consciousness, and a third stage which for want of a better word we may term the stage of universal consciousness. of course these three stages may at some future time be analyzed into lesser degrees, with useful result--but at present i only desire to draw attention to them in the rough, so to speak, to show that it is from them and from their passage one into another that there has flowed by a perfectly natural logic and concatenation the strange panorama of humanity's religious evolution--its superstitions and magic and sacrifices and dancings and ritual generally, and later its incantations and prophecies, and services of speech and verse, and paintings and forms of art and figures of the gods. a wonderful panorama indeed, or poem of the centuries, or, if you like, world-symphony with three great leading motives! and first we have the stage of simple consciousness. for hundreds of centuries (we cannot doubt) man possessed a degree of consciousness not radically different from that of the higher animals, though probably more quick and varied. he saw, he heard, he felt, he noted. he acted or reacted, quickly or slowly, in response to these impressions. but the consciousness of himself, as a being separate from his impressions, as separate from his surroundings, had not yet arisen or taken hold on him. he was an instinctive part, of nature. and in this respect he was very near to the animals. self-consciousness in the animals, in a germinal form is there, no doubt, but embedded, so to speak, in the general world consciousness. it is on this account that the animals have such a marvellously acute perception and instinct, being embedded in nature. and primitive man had the same. also we must, as i have said before, allow that man in that stage must have had the same sort of grace and perfection of form and movement as we admire in the (wild) animals now. it would be quite unreasonable to suppose that he, the crown in the same sense of creation, was from the beginning a lame and ill-made abortion. for a long period the tribes of men, like the tribes of the higher animals, must have been (on the whole, and allowing for occasional privations and sufferings and conflicts) well adapted to their surroundings and harmonious with the earth and with each other. there must have been a period resembling a golden age--some condition at any rate which, compared with subsequent miseries, merited the epithet 'golden.' it was during this period apparently that the system of totems arose. the tribes felt their relationship to their winged and fourfooted mates (including also other objects of nature) so deeply and intensely that they adopted the latter as their emblems. the pre-civilization man fairly worshipped, the animals and was proud to be called after them. of course we moderns find this strange. we, whose conceptions of these beautiful creatures are mostly derived from a broken-down cab-horse, or a melancholy milk-rummaged cow in a sooty field, or a diseased and despondent lion or eagle at the zoo, have never even seen or loved them and have only wondered with our true commercial instinct what profit we could extract from them. but they, the primitives, loved and admired the animals; they domesticated many of them by the force of a natural friendship, ( ) and accorded them a kind of divinity. this was the age of tribal solidarity and of a latent sense of solidarity with nature. and the point of it all is (with regard to the subject we have in hand) that this was also the age from which by a natural evolution the sense of religion came to mankind. if religion in man is the sense of ties binding his inner self to the powers of the universe around him, then it is evident i think that primitive man as i have described him possessed the reality of this sense--though so far buried and subconscious that he was hardly aware of it. it was only later, and with the coming of the second stage, that this sense began to rise distinctly into consciousness. ( ) see ch. iv. tylor in his primitive culture (vol. i, p. , edn. ) says: "the sense of an absolute psychical distinction between man and beast, so prevalent in the civilized world, is hardly to be found among the lower races." let us pass then to the second stage. there is a moment in the evolution of a child--somewhere perhaps about the age of three ( )--when the simple almost animal-like consciousness of the babe is troubled by a new element--self-consciousness. the change is so marked, so definite, that (in the depth of the infant's eyes) you can almost see it take place. so in the evolution of the human race there has been a period--also marked and definite, though extending intermittent over a vast interval of time--when on men in general there dawned the consciousness of themselves, of their own thoughts and actions. the old simple acceptance of sensations and experiences gave place to reflection. the question arose: "how do these sensations and experiences affect me? what can _i_ do to modify them, to encourage the pleasurable, to avoid or inhibit the painful, and so on?" from that moment a new motive was added to life. the mind revolved round a new centre. it began to spin like a little eddy round its own axis. it studied itself first and became deeply concerned about its own pleasures and pains, losing touch the while with the larger life which once dominated it--the life of nature, the life of the tribe. the old unity of the spirit, the old solidarity, were broken up. ( ) see bucke's cosmic consciousness (philadelphia, ), pp. and ; also w. mcdougall's social psychology ( ), p. --where the same age is tentatively suggested. i have touched on this subject before, but it is so important that the reader must excuse repetition. there came an inevitable severance, an inevitable period of strife. the magic mirror of the soul, reflecting nature as heretofore in calm and simple grace, was suddenly cracked across. the new self-conscious man (not all at once but gradually) became alienated from his tribe. he lapsed into strife with his fellows. ambition, vanity, greed, the love of domination, the desire for property and possessions, set in. the influences of fellowship and solidarity grew feebler. he became alienated from his great mother. his instincts were less and less sure--and that in proportion as brain-activity and self-regarding calculation took their place. love and mutual help were less compelling in proportion as the demands of self-interest grew louder and more insistent. ultimately the crisis came. cain murdered his brother and became an outcast. the garden of eden and the golden age closed their gates behind him. he entered upon a period of suffering--a period of labor and toil and sorrow such as he had never before known, and such as the animals certainly have never known. and in that distressful state, in that doleful valley of his long pilgrimage, he still remains to-day. thus has the canker of self-consciousness done its work. it would be foolish and useless to rail against the process, or to blame any one for it. it had to be. through this dismal vale of self-seeking mankind had to pass--if only in order at last to find the true self which was (and still remains) its goal. the pilgrimage will not last for ever. indeed there are signs that the recent great war and the following events mark the lowest point of descent and the beginning of the human soul's return to sanity and ascent towards the heavenly kingdom. no doubt man will arrive again some day at the grace, composure and leisurely beauty of life which the animals realized long ago, though he seems a precious long time about it; and when all this nightmare of greed and vanity and self-conceit and cruelty and lust of oppression and domination, which marks the present period, is past--and it will pass--then humanity will come again to its golden age and to that paradise of redemption and peace which has for so long been prophesied. but we are dealing with the origins of religion; and what i want the reader to see is that it was just this breaking up of the old psychologic unity and continuity of man with his surroundings which led to the whole panorama of the rituals and creeds. man, centering round himself, necessarily became an exile from the great whole. he committed the sin (if it was a sin) of separation. anyhow nemesis was swift. the sense of loneliness and the sense of guilt came on him. the realization of himself as a separate conscious being necessarily led to his attributing a similar consciousness of some kind to the great life around him. action and reaction are equal and opposite. whatever he may have felt before, it became clear to him now that beings more or less like himself--though doubtless vaster and more powerful--moved behind the veil of the visible world. from that moment the belief in magic and demons and gods arose or slowly developed itself; and in the midst of this turmoil of perilous and conflicting powers, he perceived himself an alien and an exile, stricken with fear, stricken with the sense of sin. if before, he had experienced fear--in the kind of automatic way of self-preservation in which the animals feel it--he now, with fevered self-regard and excited imagination, experienced it in double or treble degree. and if, before, he had been aware that fortune and chance were not always friendly and propitious to his designs, he now perceived or thought he perceived in every adverse happening the deliberate persecution of the powers, and an accusation of guilt directed against him for some neglect or deficiency in his relation to them. hence by a perfectly logical and natural sequence there arose the belief in other-world or supernatural powers, whether purely fortuitous and magical or more distinctly rational and personal; there arose the sense of sin, or of offence against these powers; there arose a complex ritual of expiation--whether by personal sacrifice and suffering or by the sacrifice of victims. there arose too a whole catalogue of ceremonies--ceremonies of initiation, by which the novice should learn to keep within the good grace of the powers, and under the blessing of his tribe and the protection of its totem; ceremonies of eucharistic meals which should restore the lost sanctity of the common life and remove the sense of guilt and isolation; ceremonies of marriage and rules and rites of sex-connection, fitted to curb the terrific and demonic violence of passions which else indeed might easily rend the community asunder. and so on. it is easy to see that granted an early stage of simple unreflecting nature-consciousness, and granting this broken into and, after a time, shattered by the arrival of self-consciousness there would necessarily follow in spontaneous yet logical order a whole series of religious institutions and beliefs, which phantasmal and unreal as they may appear to us, were by no means unreal to our ancestors. it is easy also to see that as the psychological process was necessarily of similar general character in every branch of the human race and all over the world, so the religious evolutions--the creeds and rituals--took on much the same complexion everywhere; and, though they differed in details according to climate and other influences, ran on such remarkably parallel lines as we have noted. finally, to make the whole matter clear, let me repeat that this event, the inbreak of self-consciousness, took place, or began to take place, an enormous time ago, perhaps in the beginning of the neolithic age. i dwell on the word "began" because i think it is probable that in its beginnings, and for a long period after, this newborn consciousness had an infantile and very innocent character, quite different from its later and more aggressive forms--just as we see self-consciousness in a little child has a charm and a grace which it loses later in a boastful or grasping boyhood and manhood. so we may understand that though self-consciousness may have begun to appear in the human race at this very early time (and more or less contemporaneously with the invention of very rude tools and unformed language), there probably did elapse a very long period--perhaps the whole of the neolithic age--before the evils of this second stage of human evolution came to a head. max muller has pointed out that among the words which are common to the various branches of aryan language, and which therefore belong to the very early period before the separation of these branches, there are not found the words denoting war and conflict and the weapons and instruments of strife--a fact which suggests a long continuance of peaceful habit among mankind after the first formation and use of language. that the birth of language and the birth of self-consciousness were approximately simultaneous is a probable theory, and one favored by many thinkers; ( ) but the slow beginnings of both must have been so very protracted that it is perhaps useless to attempt any very exact determination. late researches seem to show that language began in what might be called tribal expressions of mood and feeling (holophrases like "go-hunting-kill-bear") without reference to individual personalities and relationships; and that it was only at a later stage that words like "i" and "thou" came into use, and the holophrases broke up into "parts of speech" and took on a definite grammatical structure. ( ) if true, these facts point clearly to a long foreground of rude communal language, something like though greatly superior to that of the animals, preceding or preparing the evolution of self-consciousness proper, in the forms of "i" and "thou" and the grammar of personal actions and relations. "they show that the plural and all other forms of number in grammar arise not by multiplication of an original 'i,' but by selection and gradual exclusion from an original collective 'we.'" ( ) according to this view the birth of self-consciousness in the human family, or in any particular race or section of the human family, must have been equally slow and hesitating; and it would be easy to imagine, as just said, that there may have been a very long and 'golden' period at its beginning, before the new consciousness took on its maturer and harsher forms. ( ) dr. bucke (cosmic consciousness) insists on their simultaneity, but places both events excessively far back, as we should think, i.e. , or , years ago. possibly he does not differentiate sufficiently between the rude language of the holophrase and the much later growth of formed and grammatical speech. ( ) see a. e. crawley's idea of the soul, ch. ii; jane harrison's themis, pp. - ; and e. j. payne's history of the new world called america, vol. ii, pp. sq., where the beginning of self-consciousness is associated with the break-up of the holophrase. ( ) themis, p. . all estimates of the time involved in these evolutions of early man are notoriously most divergent and most difficult to be sure of; but if we take , years ago for the first appearance of veritable man (homo primigenius), ( ) and (following professor w. j. sollas) ( ) , or , years ago for the first tool-using men (homo sapiens) of the chellean age (palaeolithic), , for the rock-paintings and inscriptions of the aurignacian and magdalenian peoples, and , years ago for the first actual historical records that have come down to us, we may perhaps get something like a proportion between the different periods. that is to say, half a million years for the purely animal man in his different forms and grades of evolution. then somewhere towards the end of palaeolithic or commencement of neolithic times self-consciousness dimly beginning and, after some , years of slow germination and pre-historic culture, culminating in the actual historic period and the dawn of civilization or centuries ago, and to-day (we hope), reaching the climax which precedes or foretells its abatement and transformation. ( ) though dr. arthur keith, ancient types of man ( ), pp. and , puts the figure at more like a million. ( ) see ancient hunters ( ); also hastings's encycl. art. "ethnology"; and havelock ellis, "the origin of war," in the philosophy of conflict and other essays. no doubt many geologists and anthropologists would favor periods greatly longer than those here mentioned; but possibly there would be some agreement as to the ratio to each other of the times concerned: that is, the said authorities would probably allow for a very long animal-man ( )-period corresponding to the first stage; for a much shorter aggressively 'self conscious' period, corresponding to the second stage--perhaps lasting only one thirtieth or fiftieth of the time of the first period; and then--if they looked forward at all to a third stage--would be inclined for obvious reasons to attribute to that again a very extended duration. ( ) i use the phrase 'animal-man' here, not with any flavor of contempt or reprobation, as the dear victorians would have used it, but with a sense of genuine respect and admiration such as one feels towards the animals themselves. however, all this is very speculative. to return to the difficulty about language and the consideration of those early times when words adequate to the expression of religious or magical ideas simply did not exist, it is clear that the only available, or at any rate the chief means of expression, in those times, must have consisted in gestures, in attitudes, in ceremonial actions--in a more or less elaborate ritual, in fact. ( ) such ideas as adoration, thanksgiving, confession of guilt, placation of wrath, expiation, sacrifice, celebration of community, sacramental atonement, and a score of others could at that time be expressed by appropriate rites--and as a matter of fact are often so expressed even now--more readily and directly than by language. 'dancing'--when that word came to be invented--did not mean a mere flinging about of the limbs in recreation, but any expressive movements of the body which might be used to convey the feelings of the dancer or of the audience whom he represented. and so the 'religious dance' became a most important part of ritual. ( ) see ch. ix and xi. so much for the second stage of consciousness. let us now pass on to the third stage. it is evident that the process of disruption and dissolution--disruption both of the human mind, and of society round about it, due to the action of the second stage--could not go on indefinitely. there are hundreds of thousands of people at the present moment who are dying of mental or bodily disease--their nervous systems broken down by troubles connected with excessive self-consciousness--selfish fears and worries and restlessness. society at large is perishing both in industry and in warfare through the domination in its organism of the self-motives of greed and vanity and ambition. this cannot go on for ever. things must either continue in the same strain, in which case it is evident that we are approaching a crisis of utter dissolution, or a new element must enter in, a new inspiration of life, and we (as individuals) and the society of which we form a part, must make a fresh start. what is that new and necessary element of regeneration? it is evident that it must be a new birth--the entry into a further stage of consciousness which must supersede the present one. through some such crisis as we have spoken of, through the extreme of suffering, the mind of man, as at present constituted, has to die. ( ) self-consciousness has to die, and be buried, and rise again in a new form. probably nothing but the extreme of suffering can bring this about. ( ) and what is this new form in which consciousness has to rearise? obviously, since the miseries of the world during countless centuries have dated from that fatal attempt to make the little personal self the centre of effort and activity, and since that attempt has inevitably led to disunity and discord and death, both within the mind itself and within the body of society, there is nothing left but the return to a consciousness which shall have unity as its foundation-principle, and which shall proceed from the direct sense and perception of such an unity throughout creation. the simple mind of early man and the animals was of that character--a consciousness, so to speak, continuous through nature, and though running to points of illumination and foci of special activity in individuals, yet at no point essentially broken or imprisoned in separate compartments. (and it is this continuity of the primitive mind which enables us, as i have already explained, to understand the mysterious workings of instinct and intuition.) to some such unity-consciousness we have to return; but clearly it will be--it is not--of the simple inchoate character of the first stage, for it has been enriched, deepened, and greatly extended by the experience of the second stage. it is in fact, a new order of mentality--the consciousness of the third stage. ( ) "the mind must be restrained in the heart till it comes to an end," says the maitrayana-brahmana-upanishad. ( ) one may remember in this connection the tapas of the hindu yogi, or the ordeals of initiates into the pagan mysteries generally. in order to understand the operation and qualities of this third consciousness, it may be of assistance just now to consider in what more or less rudimentary way or ways it figured in the pagan rituals and in christianity. we have seen the rude siberyaks in north-eastern asia or the 'grizzly' tribes of north american indians in the neighborhood of mount shasta paying their respects and adoration to a captive bear--at once the food-animal, and the divinity of the tribe. a tribesman had slain a bear--and, be it said, had slain it not in a public hunt with all due ceremonies observed, but privately for his own satisfaction. he had committed, therefore, a sin theoretically unpardonable; for had he not--to gratify his personal desire for food--levelled a blow at the guardian spirit of the tribe? had he not alienated himself from his fellows by destroying its very symbol? there was only one way by which he could regain the fellowship of his companions. he must make amends by some public sacrifice, and instead of retaining the flesh of the animal for himself he must share it with the whole tribe (or clan) in a common feast, while at the same time, tensest prayers and thanks are offered to the animal for the gift of his body for food. the magic formula demanded nothing less than this--else dread disaster would fall upon the man who sinned, and upon the whole brotherhood. here, and in a hundred similar rites, we see the three phases of tribal psychology--the first, in which the individual member simply remains within the compass of the tribal mind, and only acts in harmony with it; the second, in which the individual steps outside and to gratify his personal self performs an action which alienates him from his fellows; and the third, in which, to make amends and to prove his sincerity, he submits to some sacrifice, and by a common feast or some such ceremony is received back again into the unity of the fellowship. the body of the animal-divinity is consumed, and the latter becomes, both in the spirit and in the flesh, the savior of the tribe. in course of time, when the totem or guardian-spirit is no longer merely an animal, or animal-headed genius, but a quite human-formed divinity, still the same general outline of ideas is preserved--only with gathered intensity owing to the specially human interest of the drama. the divinity who gives his life for his flock is no longer just an ordinary bull or lamb, but adonis or osiris or dionysus or jesus. he is betrayed by one of his own followers, and suffers death, but rises again redeeming all with himself in the one fellowship; and the corn and the wine and the wild flesh which were his body, and which he gave for the sustenance of mankind, are consumed in a holy supper of reconciliation. it is always the return to unity which is the ritual of salvation, and of which the symbol is the eucharist--the second birth, the formation of "a new creature when old things are passed away." for "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god"; and "the first man is of the earth, earthly, but the second man is the lord from heaven." like a strange refrain, and from centuries before our era, comes down this belief in a god who is imprisoned in each man, and whose liberation is a new birth and the beginning of a new creature: "rejoice, ye initiates in the mystery of the liberated god"--rejoice in the thought of the hero who died as a mortal in the coffin, but rises again as lord of all! who then was this "christos" for whom the world was waiting three centuries before our era (and indeed centuries before that)? who was this "thrice savior" whom the greek gnostics acclaimed? what was the meaning of that "coming of the son of man" whom daniel beheld in vision among the clouds of heaven? or of the "perfect man" who, paul declared, should deliver us from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of god? what was this salvation which time after time and times again the pagan deities promised to their devotees, and which the eleusinian and other mysteries represented in their religious dramas with such convincing enthusiasm that even pindar could say "happy is he who has seen them (the mysteries) before he goes beneath the hollow earth: that man knows the true end of life and its source divine"; and concerning which sophocles and aeschylus were equally enthusiastic? ( ) ( ) see farnell's cults of the greek states, vol. iii, p. ; also the mysteries, pagan and christian, by s. cheetham, d.d. (london, ). can we doubt, in the light of all that we have already said, what the answer to these questions is? as with the first blossoming of self-consciousness in the human mind came the dawn of an immense cycle of experience--a cycle indeed of exile from eden, of suffering and toil and blind wanderings in the wilderness, yet a cycle absolutely necessary and unavoidable--so now the redemption, the return, the restoration has to come through another forward step, in the same domain. abandoning the quest and the glorification of the separate isolated self we have to return to the cosmic universal life. it is the blossoming indeed of this 'new' life in the deeps of our minds which is salvation, and which all the expressions which i have just cited have indicated. it is this presence which all down the ages has been hailed as savior and liberator: the daybreak of a consciousness so much vaster, so much more glorious, than all that has gone before that the little candle of the local self is swallowed up in its rays. it is the return home, the return into direct touch with nature and man--the liberation from the long exile of separation, from the painful sense of isolation and the odious nightmare of guilt and 'sin.' can we doubt that this new birth--this third stage of consciousness, if we like to call it so--has to come, that it is indeed not merely a pious hope or a tentative theory, but a fact testified to already by a cloud of witnesses in the past--witnesses shining in their own easily recognizable and authentic light, yet for the most part isolated from each other among the arid and unfruitful wastes of civilization, like glow-worms in the dry grass of a summer night? since the first dim evolution of human self-consciousness an immense period, as we have said--perhaps , years, perhaps even more--has elapsed. now, in the present day this period is reaching its culmination, and though it will not terminate immediately, its end is, so to speak, in sight. meanwhile, during all the historical age behind us--say for the last , or , years--evidence has been coming in (partly in the religious rites recorded, partly in oracles, poems and prophetic literature) of the onset of this further illumination--"the light which never was on sea or land"--and the cloud of witnesses, scattered at first, has in these later centuries become so evident and so notable that we are tempted to believe in or to anticipate a great and general new birth, as now not so very far off. ( ) (we should, h that many a time already in the history the millennium has been prophesied, and yet not arrived punctual to date, and to take to ourselves the words of 'peter,' who somewhat grievously disappointed at the long-delayed second coming of the lord jesus in the clouds of heaven, wrote in his second epistle: "there shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying, where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." ( )) ( ) for an amplification of all this theme, see dr. bucke's remarkable and epoch-making book, cosmic consciousness (first published at philadelphia, ). ( ) peter iii. ; written probably about a.d. . i say that all through the historical age behind us there has been evidence--even though scattered--of salvation and the return of the cosmic life. man has never been so completely submerged in the bitter sea of self-centredness but what he has occasionally been able to dash the spray from his eyes and glimpse the sun and the glorious light of heaven. from how far back we cannot say, but from an immense antiquity come the beautiful myths which indicate this. cinderella, the cinder-maiden, sits unbeknown in her earthly. hutch; gibed and jeered at she bewails her lonely fate; nevertheless youngest-born she surpasses her sisters and endues a garment of the sun and stars; from a tiny spark she ascends and irradiates the universe, and is wedded to the prince of heaven. how lovely this vision of the little maiden sitting unbeknown close to the hearth-fire of the universe--herself indeed just a little spark from it; despised and rejected; rejected by the world, despised by her two elder sisters (the body and the intellect); yet she, the soul, though latest-born, by far the most beautiful of the three. and of the prince of love who redeems and sets her free; and of her wedding garment the glory and beauty of all nature and of the heavens! the parables of jesus are charming in their way, but they hardly reach this height of inspiration. or the world-old myth of eros and psyche. how strange that here again there are three sisters (the three stages of human evolution), and the latest-born the most beautiful of the three, and the jealousies and persecutions heaped on the youngest by the others, and especially by aphrodite the goddess of mere sensual charm. and again the coming of the unknown, the unseen lover, on whom it is not permitted for mortals to look; and the long, long tests and sufferings and trials which psyche has to undergo before eros may really take her to his arms and translate her to the heights of heaven. can we not imagine how when these things were represented in the mysteries the world flocked to see them, and the poets indeed said, "happy are they that see and seeing can understand?" can we not understand how it was that the amphictyonic decree of the second century b.c. spoke of these same mysteries as enforcing the lesson that "the greatest of human blessings is fellowship and mutual trust"? xv. the ancient mysteries thus we come to a thing which we must not pass over, because it throws great light on the meaning and interpretation of all these rites and ceremonies of the great world-religion. i mean the subject of the ancient mysteries. and to this i will give a few pages. these mysteries were probably survivals of the oldest religious rites of the greek races, and in their earlier forms consisted not so much in worship of the gods of heaven as of the divinities of earth, and of nature and death. crude, no doubt, at first, they gradually became (especially in their eleusinian form) more refined and philosophical; the rites were gradually thrown open, on certain conditions, not only to men generally, but also to women, and even to slaves; and in the end they influenced christianity deeply. ( ) ( ) see edwin hatch, d.d., the influence of greek ideas and usages on the christian church (london, ), pp. - . there were apparently three forms of teaching made use of in these rites: these were [gr legomena], things said; [gr deiknumena], things shown; and [gr drwmena], things performed or acted. ( ) i have given already some instances of things said-texts whispered for consolation in the neophyte's car, and so forth; of the third group, things enacted, we have a fair amount of evidence. there were ritual dramas or passion-plays, of which an important one dealt with the descent of kore or proserpine into the underworld, as in the eleusinian representations, ( ) and her redemption and restoration to the upper world in spring; another with the sufferings of psyche and her rescue by eros, as described by apuleius ( )--himself an initiate in the cult of isis. there is a parody by lucian, which tells of the birth of apollo, the marriage of coronis, and the coming of aesculapius as savior; there was the dying and rising again of dionysus (chief divinity of the orphic cult); and sometimes the mystery of the birth of dionysus as a holy child. ( ) there was, every year at eleusis, a solemn and lengthy procession or pilgrimage made, symbolic of the long pilgrimage of the human soul, its sufferings and deliverance. ( ) cheetham, op. cit., pp. - sq. ( ) see farnell, op. cit., iii. sq. ( ) see the golden ass. ( ) farnell, ii, . "almost always," says dr. cheetham, "the suffering of a god--suffering followed by triumph--seems to have been the subject of the sacred drama." then occasionally to the neophytes, after taking part in the pilgrimage, and when their minds had been prepared by an ordeal of darkness and fatigue and terrors, was accorded a revelation of paradise, and even a vision of transfiguration--the form of the hierophant himself, or teacher of the mysteries, being seen half-lost in a blaze of light. ( ) finally, there was the eating of food and drinking of barley-drink from the sacred chest ( )--a kind of communion or eucharist. ( ) ibid., sq. ( ) ibid., . sacred chests, in which holy things were kept, figure frequently in early rites and legends--as in the case of the ark of the jewish tabernacle, the ark or box carried in celebrations of the mysteries of bacchus (theocritus, idyll xxvi), the legend of pandora's box which contained the seeds of all good and evil, the ark of noah which saved all living creatures from the flood, the argo of the argonauts, the moonshaped boat in which isis floating over the waters gathered together the severed limbs of osiris, and so brought about his resurrection, and the many chests or coffins out of which the various gods (adonis, attis, osiris, jesus), having been laid there in death, rose again for the redemption of the world. they all evidently refer to the mystic womb of nature and of woman, and are symbols of salvation and redemption (for a full discussion of this subject, see the great law of religious origins, by w. williamson, ch. iv.) apuleius in the golden ass gives an interesting account of his induction into the mysteries of isis: how, bidding farewell one evening to the general congregation outside, and clothed in a new linen garment, he was handed by the priest into the inner recesses of the temple itself; how he "approached the confines of death, and having trod on the threshold of proserpine (the underworld), returned therefrom, being borne through all the elements. at midnight i saw the sun shining with its brilliant light: and i approached the presence of the gods beneath and the gods above, and stood near and worshipped them." during the night things happened which must not be disclosed; but in the morning he came forth "consecrated by being dressed in twelve stoles painted with the figures of animals." ( ) he ascended a pulpit in the midst of the temple, carrying in his right hand a burning torch, while a chaplet encircled his head, from which palm-leaves projected like rays of light. "thus arrayed like the sun, and placed so as to resemble a statue, on a sudden the curtains being drawn aside, i was exposed to the gaze of the multitude. after this i celebrated the most joyful day of my initiation, as my natal day (day of the new birth) and there was a joyous banquet and mirthful conversation." ( ) an allusion no doubt to the twelve signs of the zodiac, the pathway of the sun, as well as to the practice of the ancient priests of wearing the skins of totem-animals in sign of their divinity. one can hardly refuse to recognize in this account the description of some kind of ceremony which was supposed to seal the illumination of a man and his new birth into divinity--the animal origin, the circling of all experience, the terrors of death, and the resurrection in the form of the sun, the symbol of all light and life. the very word "illumination" carries the ideas of light and a new birth with it. reitzenstein in his very interesting book on the greek mysteries ( ) speaks over and over again of the illumination ([gr fwtismos]) which was held to attend initiation and salvation. the doctrine of salvation indeed ([gr swthria]) was, as we have already seen, rife and widely current in the second century b. c. it represented a real experience, and the man who shared this experience became a [gr qeios] [gr anqrwpos] or divine man. ( ) in the orphic tablets the phrase "i am a child of earth and the starry heaven, but my race is of heaven (alone)" occurs more than once. in one of the longest of them the dead man is instructed "after he has passed the waters (of lethe) where the white cypress and the house of hades are" to address these very words to the guardians of the lake of memory while he asks for a drink of cold water from that lake. in another the dead person himself is thus addressed: "hail, thou who hast endured the suffering, such as indeed thou hadst never suffered before; thou hast become god from man!" ( ) ecstacy was the acme of the religious life; and, what is especially interesting to us, salvation or the divine nature was open to all men--to all, that is, who should go through the necessary stages of preparation for it. ( ) ( ) die hellenistischen mysterien-religionen, by r. reitzenstein, leipzig, . ( ) reitzenstein, p. . ( ) these tablets (so-called) are instructions to the dead as to their passage into the other world, and have been found in the tombs, in italy and elsewhere, inscribed on very thin gold plates and buried with the departed. see manual of greek antiquities by percy gardner and f. b. jerome ( ); also prolegomena to greek religion by jane e. harrison ( ). ( ) reitzenstein, pp. and ; also s. j. case, evolution of early christianity, p. . reitzenstein contends (p. ) that in the mysteries, transfiguration ([gr metamorfwsis]), salvation ([gr swthria]), and new birth ([gr paliggenesia]) were often conjoined. he says (p. ), that in the egyptian osiris-cult, the initiate acquires a nature "equal to god" ([gr isoqeos]), the very same expression as that used of christ jesus in philippians ii. ; he mentions apollonius of tyana and sergius paulus as instances of men who by their contemporaries were considered to have attained this nature; and he quotes akhnaton (pharaoh of egypt in b.c.) as having said, "thou art in my heart; none other knows thee, save thy son akhnaton; thou hast initiated him into thy wisdom and into thy power." he also quotes the words of hermes (trismegistus)--"come unto me, even as children to their mother's bosom: thou art i, and i am thou; what is thine is mine, and what is mine is thine; for indeed i am thine image ([gr eidwlon])," and refers to the dialogue between hermes and tat, in which they speak of the great and mystic new birth and union with the all--with all elements, plants and animals, time and space. "the mysteries," says dr. cheetham very candidly, "influenced christianity considerably and modified it in some important respects"; and dr. hatch, as we have seen, not only supports this general view, but follows it out in detail. ( ) he points out that the membership of the mystery-societies was very numerous in the earliest times, a.d.; that their general aims were good, including a sense of true religion, decent life, and brotherhood; that cleanness from crime and confession were demanded from the neophyte; that confession was followed by baptism ([gr kaqarsis]) and that by sacrifice; that the term [gr fwtismos] (illumination) was adopted by the christian church as the name for the new birth of baptism; that the christian usage of placing a seal on the forehead came from the same source; that baptism itself after a time was called a mystery ([gr musihriou]); that the sacred cakes and barley-drink of the mysteries became the milk and honey and bread and wine of the first christian eucharists, and that the occasional sacrifice of a lamb on the christian altar ("whose mention is often suppressed") probably originated in the same way. indeed, the conception of the communion-table as an altar and many other points of ritual gradually established themselves from these sources as time went on. ( ) it is hardly necessary to say more in proof of the extent to which in these ancient representations "things said" and "scenes enacted" forestalled the doctrines and ceremonials of christianity. ( ) see hatch, op. cit., pp. sq. ( ) see dionysus areop. (end of fifth century), who describes the christian rites generally in mystery language (hatch, ). "but what of the second group above-mentioned, the "things shown"? it is not so easy naturally to get exact information concerning these, but they seem to have been specially holy objects, probably things connected with very ancient rituals in the past--such as sacred stones, old and rude images of the gods, magic nature-symbols, like that half-disclosed ear of corn above-mentioned (ch. v.). "in the temple of isis at philae," says dr. cheetham, "the dead body of osiris is represented with stalks of corn springing from it, which a priest waters from a vessel. an inscription says: 'this is the form of him whom we may not name, osiris of the mysteries who sprang from the returning waters' (the nile)." above all, no doubt, there were images of the phallus and the vulva, the great symbols of human fertility. we have seen (ch. xii) that the lingam and the yoni are, even down to to-day, commonly retained and honored as holy objects in the s. indian temples, and anointed with oil (some of them) for a very practical reason. sir j. g. frazer, in his lately published volumes on the folk-lore of the old testament, has a chapter (in vol. ii) on the very numerous sacred stones of various shapes and sizes found or spoken of in palestine and other parts of the world. though uncertain as to the meaning of these stones he mentions that they are "frequently, though not always, upright." anointing them with oil, he assures us, "is a widespread practice, sometimes by women who wish to obtain children." and he concludes the chapter by saying: "the holy stone at bethel was probably one of those massive standing stones or rough pillars which the hebrews called masseboth, and which, as we have seen, were regular adjuncts of canaanite and early israelitish sanctuaries." we have already mentioned the pillars jachin and boaz which stood before the temple of solomon, and which had an acknowledged sexual significance; and so it seems probable that a great number of these holy stones had a similar meaning. ( ) following this clue it would appear likely that the lingam thus anointed and worshipped in the temples of india and elsewhere is the original [gr cristos] ( ) adored by the human race from the very beginning, and that at a later time, when the priest and the king, as objects of worship, took the place of the lingam, they also were anointed with the chrism of fertility. that the exhibition of these emblems should be part of the original 'mystery'-rituals was perfectly natural--especially because, as we have explained already ( ) old customs often continued on in a quite naive fashion in the rituals, when they had come to be thought indecent or improper by a later public opinion; and (we may say) was perfectly in order, because there is plenty of evidence to show that in savage initiations, of which the mysteries were the linear descendants, all these things were explained to the novices, and their use actually taught. ( ) no doubt also there were some representations or dramatic incidents of a fairly coarse character, as deriving from these ancient sources. ( ) it is, however, quaint to observe how the mere mention of such things has caused an almost hysterical commotion among the critics of the mysteries--from the day of the early christians who (in order to belaud their own religion) were never tired of abusing the pagans, onward to the present day when modern scholars either on the one hand follow the early christians in representing the mysteries as sinks of iniquity or on the other (knowing this charge could not be substantiated except in the period of their final decadence) take the line of ignoring the sexual interest attaching to them as non-existent or at any rate unworthy of attention. the good archdeacon cheetham, for instance, while writing an interesting book on the mysteries passes by this side of the subject almost as if it did not exist; while the learned dr. farnell, overcome apparently by the weight of his learning, and unable to confront the alarming obstacle presented by these sexual rites and aspects, hides himself behind the rather non-committal remark (speaking of the eleusinian rites) "we have no right to imagine any part of this solemn ceremony as coarse or obscene." ( ) as nature, however, has been known (quite frequently) to be coarse or obscene, and as the initiators of the mysteries were probably neither 'good' nor 'learned,' but were simply anxious to interpret nature as best they could, we cannot find fault with the latter for the way they handled the problem, nor indeed well see how they could have handled it better. ( ) f. nork, der mystagog, mentions that the roman penates were commonly anointed with oil. j. stuart hay, in his life of elagabalus ( ), says that "elagabal was worshipped under the symbol of a great black stone or meteorite, in the shape of a phallus, which having fallen from the heavens represented a true portion of the godhead, much after the style of those black stone images popularly venerated in norway and other parts of europe." ( ) j. e. hewitt, in his ruling races of pre-historic times (p. ), gives a long list of pre-historic races who worshipped the lingam. ( ) see ch. xi. ( ) see ernest crawley's mystic rose, ch. xiii, pp. and : "in certain tribes of central africa both boys and girls after initiation must as soon as possible have intercourse." initiation being not merely preliminary to, but often actually marriage. the same among kaffirs, congo tribes, senegalese, etc. also among the arunta of australia. ( ) professor diederichs has said that "in much ancient ritual it was thought that mystic communion with the deity could be obtained through the semblance of sex-intercourse--as in the attis-cybele worship, and the isis-ritual." (farnell.) reitzenstein says (op. cit., p. .) that the initiates, like some of the christian nuns at a later time, believed in union with god through receiving the seed. ( ) farnell, op. cit., iii. . messrs. gardner and jevons, in their manual of greek antiquities, above-quoted, compare the eleusinian mysteries favorably with some of the others, like the arcadian, the troezenian, the aeginaean, and the very primitive samothracian: saying (p. ) that of the last-mentioned "we know little, but safely conjecture that in them the ideas of sex and procreation dominated even more than in those of eleusis." after all it is pretty clear that the early peoples saw in sex the great cohesive force which kept (we will not say humanity but at any rate) the tribe together, and sustained the race. in the stage of simple consciousness this must have been one of the first things that the budding intellect perceived. sex became one of the earliest divinities, and there is abundant evidence that its organs and processes generally were invested with a religious sense of awe and sanctity. it was in fact the symbol (or rather the actuality) of the permanent undying life of the race, and as such was sacred to the uses of the race. whatever taboos may have, among different peoples, guarded its operations, it was not essentially a thing to be concealed, or ashamed of. rather the contrary. for instance the early christian writer, hippolytus, bishop of pontus (a.d. ), in his refutation of all heresies, book v, says that the samothracian mysteries, just mentioned, celebrate adam as the primal or archetypal man eternal in the heavens; and he then continues: "habitually there stand in the temple of the samothracians two images of naked men having both hands stretched aloft towards heaven, and their pudenda turned upwards, as is also the case with the statue of mercury on mt. cyllene. and the aforesaid images are figures of the primal man, and of that spiritual one that is born again, in every respect of the same substance with that (first) man." this extract from hippolytus occurs in the long discourse in which he 'exposes' the heresy of the so-called naassene doctrines and mysteries. but the whole discourse should be read by those who wish to understand the gnostic philosophy of the period contemporary with and anterior to the birth of christianity. a translation of the discourse, carefully analyzed and annotated, is given in g. r. s. mead's thrice-greatest hermes ( ) (vol. i); and mead himself, speaking of it, says (p. ): "the claim of these gnostics was practically that the good news of the christ (the christos) was the consummation of the inner doctrine of the mystery-institutions of all the nations; the end of them all being the revelation of the mystery of man." further, he explains that the soul, in these doctrines, was regarded as synonymous with the cause of all; and that its loves were twain--of aphrodite (or life), and of persephone (or death and the other world). also that attis, abandoning his sex in the worship of the mother-goddess (dea syria), ascends to heaven--a new man, male-female, and the origin of all things: the hidden mystery being the phallus itself, erected as hermes in all roads and boundaries and temples, the conductor and reconductor of souls. ( ) reitzenstein, op. cit., quotes the discourse largely. the thrice-greatest hermes may also be consulted for a translation of plutarch's isis and osiris. all this may sound strange, but one may fairly say that it represented in its degree, and in that first 'unfallen' stage of human thought and psychology, a true conception of the cosmic life, and indeed a conception quite sensible and admirable, until, of course, the second stage brought corruption. no sooner was this great force of the cosmic life diverted from its true uses of generation and regeneration ( ) and appropriated by the individual to his own private pleasure--no sooner was its religious character as a tribal service ( ), (often rendered within the temple precincts) lost sight of or degraded into a commercial transaction--than every kind of evil fell upon mankind. corruptio optimi pessima. it must be remembered too that simultaneous with this sexual disruption occurred the disruption of other human relations; and we cease to be surprised that disease and selfish passions, greed, jealousy, slander, cruelty, and wholesale murder, raged--and have raged ever since. ( ) for the special meaning of these two terms, see the drama of love and death, by e. carpenter, pp. - . ( ) ernest crawley in the mystic rose challenges this identification of religion with tribal interests; yet his arguments are not very convincing. on p. he admits that "there is a religious meaning inherent in the primitive conception and practice of all human relations"; and a large part of his ch. xii is taken up in showing that even such institutions as the saturnalia were religious in confirming the sense of social union and leading to 'extended identity.' but for the human soul--whatever its fate, and whatever the dangers and disasters that threaten it--there is always redemption waiting. as we saw in the last chapter, this corruption of sex led (quite naturally) to its denial and rejection; and its denial led to the differentiation from it of love. humanity gained by the enthronement and deification of love, pure and undefiled, and (for the time being) exalted beyond this mortal world, and free from all earthly contracts. but again in the end, the divorce thus introduced between the physical and the spiritual led to the crippling of both. love relegated, so to speak, to heaven as a purely philanthropical, pious and 'spiritual' affair, became exceedingly dull; and sex, remaining on earth, but deserted by the redeeming presence, fell into mere "carnal curiosity and wretchedness of unclean living." obviously for the human race there remains nothing, in the final event, but the reconciliation of the physical and the spiritual, and after many sufferings, the reunion of eros and psyche. there is still, however, much to be said about the third state of consciousness. let us examine into it a little more closely. clearly, since it is a new state, and not merely an extension of a former one, one cannot arrive at it by argument derived from the second state, for all conscious thought such as we habitually use simply keeps us in the second state. no animal or quite primitive man could possibly understand what we mean by self-consciousness till he had experienced it. mere argument would not enlighten him. and so no one in the second state can quite realize the third state till he has experienced it. still, explanations may help us to perceive in what direction to look, and to recognize in some of our experiences an approach to the condition sought. evidently it is a mental condition in some respects more similar to the first than to the second stage. the second stage of human psychologic evolution is an aberration, a divorce, a parenthesis. with its culmination and dismissal the mind passes back into the simple state of union with the whole. (the state of ekagrata in the hindu philosophy: one-pointedness, singleness of mind.) and the consciousness of the whole, and of things past and things to come and things far around--which consciousness had been shut out by the concentration on the local self--begins to return again. this is not to say, of course, that the excursus in the second stage has been a loss and a defect. on the contrary, it means that the return is a bringing of all that has been gained during the period of exile (all sorts of mental and technical knowledge and skill, emotional developments, finesse and adaptability of mind) back into harmony with the whole. it means ultimately a great gain. the man, perfected, comes back to a vastly extended harmony. he enters again into a real understanding and confidential relationship with his physical body and with the body of the society in which he dwells--from both of which he has been sadly divorced; and he takes up again the broken thread of the cosmic life. everyone has noticed the extraordinary consent sometimes observable among the members of an animal community--how a flock of birds (e. g. starlings) will suddenly change its direction of flight--the light on the wings shifting instantaneously, as if the impulse to veer came to all at the same identical moment; or how bees will swarm or otherwise act with one accord, or migrating creatures (lemmings, deer, gossamer spiders, winged ants) the same. whatever explanation of these facts we favor--whether the possession of swifter and finer means of external communication than we can perceive, or whether a common and inner sensitivity to the genius of the tribe (the "spirit of the hive") or to the promptings of great nature around--in any case these facts of animal life appear to throw light on the possibilities of an accord and consent among the members of emaciated humanity, such as we dream of now, and seem to bid us have good hope for the future. it is here, perhaps, that the ancient worship of the lingam comes in. the word itself is apparently connected with our word 'link,' and has originally the same meaning. ( ) it is the link between the generations. beginning with the worship of the physical race-life, the course of psychologic evolution has been first to the worship of the tribe (or of the totem which represents the tribe); then to the worship of the human-formed god of the tribe--the god who dies and rises again eternally, as the tribe passes on eternal--though its members perpetually perish; then to the conception of an undying savior, and the realization and distinct experience of some kind of super-consciousness which does certainly reside, more or less hidden, in the deeps of the mind, and has been waiting through the ages for its disclosure and recognition. then again to the recognition that in the sacrifices, the slayer and the slain are one--the strange and profoundly mystic perception that the god and the victim are in essence the same--the dedication of 'himself to himself' ( ) and simultaneously with this the interpretation of the eucharist as meaning, even for the individual, the participation in eternal life--the continuing life of the tribe, or ultimately of humanity. ( ) the tribal order rises to humanity; love ascends from the lingam to yogam, from physical union alone to the union with the whole--which of course includes physical and all other kinds of union. no wonder that the good st. paul, witnessing that extraordinary whirlpool of beliefs and practices, new and old, there in the first century a.d.--the unabashed adoration of sex side by side with the transcendental devotions of the vedic sages and the gnostics--became somewhat confused himself and even a little violent, scolding his disciples (i cor. x. ) for their undiscriminating acceptance, as it seemed to him, of things utterly alien and antagonistic. "ye cannot drink the cup of the lord and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the lord's table and the table of devils." ( ) see sanskrit dictionary. ( ) see ch. viii. ( ) there are many indications in literature--in prophetic or poetic form--of this awareness and distinct conviction of an eternal life, reached through love and an inner sense of union with others and with humanity at large; indications which bear the mark of absolute genuineness and sincerity of feeling. see, for instance, whitman's poem, "to the garden the world" (leaves of grass, complete edition, p. ). but an eternal life of the third order; not, thank heaven! an eternity of the meddling and muddling self-conscious intellect! every careful reader has noticed the confusedness of paul's mind and arguments. even taking only those epistles (galatians, romans and corinthians) which the critics assign to his pen, the thing is observable--and some learned germans even speak of two pauls. ( ) but also the thing is quite natural. there can be little doubt that paul of tarsus, a jew brought up in the strictest sect of the pharisees, did at some time fall deeply under the influence of greek thought, and quite possibly became an initiate in the mysteries. it would be difficult otherwise to account for his constant use of the mystery-language. reitzenstein says (p. ): "the hellenistic religious literature must have been read by him; he uses its terms, and is saturated with its thoughts (see rom. vi. - ." and this conjoined with his jewish experience gave him creative power. "a great deal in his sentiment and thought may have remained jewish, but to his hellenism he was indebted for his love of freedom and his firm belief in his apostleship." he adopts terms (like [gr sarkikos], [gr yucikos] and [gr pneumatikos]) ( ) which were in use among the hellenistic sects of the time; and he writes, as in romans vi. , , about being "buried" with christ or "planted" in the likeness of his death, in words which might well have been used (with change of the name) by a follower of attis or osiris after witnessing the corresponding 'mysteries'; certainly the allusion to these ancient deities would have been understood by every religionist of that day. these few points are sufficient to acentuate{sic} the two elements in paul, the jewish and the greek, and to explain (so far) the seeming confusion in his utterances. further it is interesting to note--as showing the pagan influences in the n. t. writings--the degree to which the epistle to philemon (ascribed to paul) is full--short as it is--of expressions like prisoner of the lord, fellow soldier, captive or bondman, ( ) which were so common at the time as to be almost a cant in mithraism and the allied cults. in i peter ii. ( ), we have the verse "as newborn babes, desire ye the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby." and again we may say that no one in that day could mistake the reference herein contained to old initiation ceremonies and the new birth (as described in chapter viii above), for indeed milk was the well-known diet of the novice in the isis mysteries, as well as on some savage tribes) of the medicine-man when practising his calling. ( ) "die mysterien-anschauungen, die bei paulus im hintergrunde stehen, drangen sich in dem sogenarmten deuteropaulinismus machtig vor" (reitzenstein). ( ) remindful of our three stages: the animal, the self-conscious, and the cosmic. ( ) [gr desmios, stratiwths, doulos]. ( ) see also i cor. iii. . and here too democracy comes in--strangely foreboded from the first in all this matter. ( ) not only does the third stage bring illumination, intuitive understanding of processes in nature and humanity, sympathy with the animals, artistic capacity, and so forth, but it necessarily brings a new order of society. a preposterous--one may almost say a hideous--social age is surely drawing to its end, the debacle we are witnessing to-day all over europe (including the british islands), the break-up of old institutions, the generally materialistic outlook on life, the coming to the surface of huge masses of diseased and fatuous populations, the scum and dregs created by the past order, all point to the end of a dispensation. protestantism and commercialism, in the two fields of religion and daily life have, as i have indicated before, been occupied in concentrating the mind of each man solely on his own welfare, the salvation of his own soul or body. these two forces have therefore been disruptive to the last degree; they mark the culmination of the self-conscious age--a culmination in war, greed, materialism, and the general principle of devil-take-the-hindmost--and the clearing of the ground for the new order which is to come. so there is hope for the human race. its evolution is not all a mere formless craze and jumble. there is an inner necessity by which humanity unfolds from one degree or plane of consciousness to another. and if there has been a great 'fall' or lapse into conflict and disease and 'sin' and misery, occupying the major part of the historical period hitherto, we see that this period is only brief, so to speak, in comparison with the whole curve of growth and expansion. we see also that, as i have said before, the belief in a state of salvation or deliverance has in the past ages never left itself quite without a witness in the creeds and rituals and poems and prophecies of mankind. art, in some form or other, as an activity or inspiration dating not from the conscious intellect, but from deeper regions of sub-conscious feeling and intuition, has continually come to us as a message from and an evidence of the third stage or state, and as a promise of its more complete realization under other conditions. through the long night-time where the nations wander from eden past to paradise to be, art's sacred flowers, like fair stars shining yonder, alone illumine life's obscurity. o gracious artists, out of your deep hearts 'tis some great sun, i doubt, by men unguessed, whose rays come struggling thus, in slender darts, to shadow what is, till time shall manifest. ( ) see the germs of democracy in the yoga teaching of the hindus, and in the upanishads, the bhagavat gita, and other books. with the cosmic stage comes also necessarily the rehabilitation of the whole of society in one fellowship (the true democracy). not the rule or domination of one class or caste--as of the intellectual, the pious, the commercial or the military--but the fusion or at least consentaneous organization of all (as in the corresponding functions of the human body). class rule has been the mark of that second period of human evolution, and has inevitably given birth during that period to wars and self-agrandizements of classes and sections, and their consequent greeds and tyrannies over other classes and sections. it is not found in the primitive human tribes and societies, and will not be found in the final forms of human association. the liberated and emancipated man passes unconstrained and unconstraining through all grades and planes of human fellowship, equal and undisturbed, and never leaving his true home and abiding place in the heart of all. equally necessarily with the rehabilitation of society as an entirety will follow the rehabilitation of the entire physical body in each member of society. we have spoken already of nakedness: its meaning and likely extent of adoption (ch. xii). the idea that the head and the hands are the only seemly and presentable members of the organism, and that the other members are unworthy and indecent, is obviously as onesided and lopsided as that which honors certain classes in the commonwealth and despises others. why should the head brag of its ascendancy and domination, and the heart be smothered up and hidden? it will only be a life far more in the open air than that which we lead at present, which will restore the balance and ultimately bring us back to sanity and health. xvi. the exodus of christianity we have dealt with the genesis of christianity; we now come to the exodus. for that christianity can continue to hold the field of religion in the western world is neither probable nor desirable. it is true, as i have remarked already, that there is a certain trouble about defining what we mean by "christianity" similar to that about the word "civilization." if we select out of the great mass of doctrines and rites favored by the various christian churches just those which commend themselves to the most modern and humane and rational human mind and choose to call that resulting (but rather small) body of belief and practice 'christianity' we are, of course, entitled to do so, and to hope (as we do hope) that this residuum will survive and go forward into the future. but this sort of proceeding is hardly fair and certainly not logical. it enables christianity to pose as an angel of light while at the same time keeping discreetly out of sight all its own abominations and deeds of darkness. the church--which began its career by destroying, distorting and denying the pagan sources from which it sprang; whose bishops and other ecclesiastics assassinated each other in their theological rancour "of wild beasts," which encouraged the wicked folly of the crusades--especially the children's crusades--and the shameful murders of the manicheans, the albigenses, and the huguenots; which burned at the stake thousands and thousands of poor 'witches' and 'heretics'; which has hardly ever spoken a generous word in favor or defence of the animals; which in modern times has supported vivisection as against the latter, capitalism and commercialism as against the poorer classes of mankind; and whose priests in the forms of its various sects, greek or catholic, lutheran or protestant, have in these last days rushed forth to urge the nations to slaughter each other with every diabolical device of science, and to glorify the war-cry of patriotism in defiance of the principle of universal brotherhood--such a church can hardly claim to have established the angelic character of its mission among mankind! and if it be said--as it often is said: "oh! but you must go back to the genuine article, and the church's real origin and one foundation in the person and teaching of jesus christ," then indeed you come back to the point which this book, as above, enforces: namely, that as to the person of jesus, there is no certainty at all that he ever existed; and as to the teaching credited to him, it is certain that that comes down from a period long anterior to 'christianity' and is part of what may justly be called a very ancient world-religion. so, as in the case of 'civilization,' we are compelled to see that it is useless to apply the word to some ideal state of affairs or doctrine (an ideal by no means the same in all people's minds, or in all localities and times), but that the only reasonable thing to do is to apply it in each case to a historical period. in the case of christianity the historical period has lasted nearly , years, and, as i say, we can hardly expect or wish that it should last much longer. the very thorough and careful investigation of religious origins which has been made during late years by a great number of students and observers undoubtedly tends to show that there has been something like a great world-religion coming down the centuries from the remotest times and gradually expanding and branching as it has come--that is to say that the similarity (in essence though not always in external detail) between the creeds and rituals of widely sundered tribes and peoples is so great as to justify the view--advanced in the present volume--that these creeds and rituals are the necessary outgrowths of human psychology, slowly evolving, and that consequently they have a common origin and in their various forms a common expression. of this great world-religion, so coming down, christianity is undoubtedly a branch, and an important branch. but there have been important branches before; and while it may be true that christianity emphasizes some points which may have been overlooked or neglected in the vedic teachings or in buddhism, or in the persian and egyptian and syrian cults, or in mahommedanism, and so forth, it is also equally true that christianity has itself overlooked or neglected valuable points in these religions. it has, in fact, the defects of its qualities. if the world-religion is like a great tree, one cannot expect or desire that all its branches should be directed towards the same point of the compass. reinach, whose studies of religious origins are always interesting and characterized by a certain gallic grace and nettete, though with a somewhat jewish non-perception of the mystic element in life, defines religion as a combination of animism and scruples. this is good in a way, because it gives the two aspects of the subject: the inner, animism, consisting of the sense of contact with more or less intelligent beings moving in nature; and the outer, consisting in scruples or taboos. the one aspect shows the feeling which inspires religion, the other, the checks and limitations which define it and give birth to ritual. but like most anthropologists he (reinach) is a little too patronizing towards the "poor indian with untutored mind." he is sorry for people so foolish as to be animistic in their outlook, and he is always careful to point out that the scruples and taboos were quite senseless in their origin, though occasionally (by accident) they turned out useful. yet--as i have said before--animism is a perfectly sensible, logical and necessary attitude of the human mind. it is a necessary attribute of man's psychical nature, by which he projects into the great world around him the image of his own mind. when that mind is in a very primitive, inchoate, and fragmentary condition, the images so projected are those of fragmentary intelligences ('spirits,' gnomes, etc.--the age of magic); when the mind rises to distinct consciousness of itself the reflections of it are anthropomorphic 'gods'; when finally it reaches the universal or cosmic state it perceives the presence of a universal being behind all phenomena--which being is indeed itself--"himself to himself." if you like you may call the whole process by the name of animism. it is perfectly sensible throughout. the only proviso is that you should also be sensible, and distinguish the different stages in the process. jane harrison makes considerable efforts to show that religion is primarily a reflection of the social conscience (see themis, pp. - )--that is, that the sense in man of a "power that makes for righteousness" outside (and also inside) him is derived from his feeling of continuity with the tribe and his instinctive obedience to its behests, confirmed by ages of collective habit and experience. he cannot in fact sever the navel-string which connects him with his tribal mother, even though he desires to do so. and no doubt this view of the origin of religion is perfectly correct. but it must be pointed out that it does not by any means exclude the view that religion derives also from an animism by which man recognizes in general nature his foster-mother and feels himself in closest touch with her. which may have come first, the social affiliation or the nature affiliation, i leave to the professors to determine. the term animism may, as far as i can see, be quite well applied to the social affiliation, for the latter is evidently only a case in which the individual projects his own degree of consciousness into the human group around him instead of into the animals or the trees, but it is a case of which the justice is so obvious that the modern man can intellectually seize and understand it, and consequently he does not tar it with the 'animistic' brush. and miss harrison, it must be noticed, does, in other passages of the same book (see themis, pp. , ), admit that religion has its origin not only from unity with the tribe but from the sense of affiliation to nature--the sense of "a world of unseen power lying behind the visible universe, a world which is the sphere, as will be seen, of magical activity and the medium of mysticism. the mystical element, the oneness and continuousness comes out very clearly in the notion of wakonda among the sioux indians.... the omahas regarded all animate and inanimate forms, all phenomena, as pervaded by a common life, which was continuous and similar to the will-power they were conscious of in themselves. this mysterious power in all things they called wakonda, and through it all things were related to man, and to each other. in the idea of the continuity of life, a relation was maintained between the seen and the unseen, the dead and the living, and also between the fragment of anything and its entirety." thus our general position is confirmed, that religion in its origin has been inspired by a deep instinctive conviction or actual sense of continuity with a being or beings in the world around, while it has derived its form and ritual by slow degrees from a vast number of taboos, generated in the first instance chiefly by superstitious fears, but gradually with the growth of reason and observation becoming simplified and rationalized into forms of use. on the one side there has been the positive impulse--of mere animal desire and the animal urge of self-expression; on the other there has been the negative force of fear based on ignorance--the latter continually carving, moulding and shaping the former. according to this an organized study and classification of taboos might yield some interesting results; because indeed it would throw light on the earliest forms of both religion and science. it would be seen that some taboos, like those of contact (say with a menstruous woman, or a mother-in-law, or a lightning-struck tree) had an obvious basis of observation, justifiable but very crude; while others, like the taboo against harming an enemy who had contracted blood-friendship with one of your own tribe, or against giving decent burial to a murderer, were equally rough and rude expressions or indications of the growing moral sentiment of mankind. all the same there would be left, in any case, a large residuum of taboos which could only be judged as senseless, and the mere rubbish of the savage mind. so much for the first origins of the world-religion; and i think enough has been said in the various chapters of this book to show that the same general process has obtained throughout. man, like the animals, began with this deep, subconscious sense of unity with surrounding nature. when this became (in man) fairly conscious, it led to magic and totemism. more conscious, and it branched, on the one hand, into figures of gods and definite forms of creeds, on the other into elaborate scientific theories--the latter based on a strong intellectual belief in unity, but fervently denying any 'anthropomorphic' or 'animistic' sense of that unity. finally, it seems that we are now on the edge of a further stage when the theories and the creeds, scientific and religious, are on the verge of collapsing, but in such a way as to leave the sense and the perception of unity--the real content of the whole process--not only undestroyed, but immensely heightened and illuminated. meanwhile the taboos--of which there remain some still, both religious and scientific--have been gradually breaking up and merging themselves into a reasonable and humane order of life and philosophy. i have said that out of this world-religion christianity really sprang. it is evident that the time has arrived when it must either acknowledge its source and frankly endeavor to affiliate itself to the same, or failing that must perish. in the first case it will probably have to change its name; in the second the question of its name 'will interest it no more.' with regard to the first of these alternatives, i might venture--though with indifference--to make a few suggestions. why should we not have--instead of a holy roman church--a holy human church, rehabilitating the ancient symbols and rituals, a christianity (if you still desire to call it so) frankly and gladly acknowledging its own sources? this seems a reasonable and even feasible proposition. if such a church wished to celebrate a mass or communion or eucharist it would have a great variety of rites and customs of that kind to select from; those that were not appropriate for use in our times or were connected with the worship of strange gods need not be rejected or condemned, but could still be commented on and explained as approaches to the same idea--the idea of dedication to the common life, and of reinvigoration in the partaking of it. if the church wished to celebrate the crucifixion or betrayal of its founder, a hundred instances of such celebrations would be to hand, and still the thought that has underlain such celebrations since the beginning of the world could easily be disentangled and presented in concrete form anew. in the light of such teaching expressions like "i know that my redeemer liveth" would be traced to their origin, and men would understand that notwithstanding the mass of rubbish, cant and humbug which has collected round them they really do mean something and represent the age-long instinct of humanity feeling its way towards a more extended revelation, a new order of being, a third stage of consciousness and illumination. in such a church or religious organization every quality of human nature would have to be represented, every practice and custom allowed for and its place accorded--the magical and astronomical meanings, the rites connected with sun-worship, or with sex, or with the worship of animals; the consecration of corn and wine and other products of the ground, initiations, sacrifices, and so forth--all (if indeed it claimed to be a world-religion) would have to be represented and recognized. for they all have their long human origin and descent in and through the pagan creeds, and they all have penetrated into and become embodied to some degree in christianity. christianity therefore, as i say, must either now come frankly forward and, acknowledging its parentage from the great order of the past, seek to rehabilitate that and carry mankind one step forward in the path of evolution--or else it must perish. there is no other alternative. ( ) ( ) comte in founding his philosophy of positivism seems to have had in view some such holy human church, but he succeeded in making it all so profoundly dull that it never flourished, the seed of life was not in it. let me give an instance of how a fragment of ancient ritual which has survived from the far past and is still celebrated, but with little intelligence or understanding, in the catholic church of to-day, might be adopted in such a church as i have spoken of, interpreted, and made eloquent of meaning to modern humanity. when i was in ceylon nearly years ago i was fortunate enough to witness a night-festival in a hindu temple--the great festival of taipusam, which takes place every year in january. of course, it was full moon, and great was the blowing up of trumpets in the huge courtyard of the temple. the moon shone down above from among the fronds of tall coco-palms, on a dense crowd of native worshipers--men and a few women--the men for the most part clad in little more than a loin-cloth, the women picturesque in their colored saris and jewelled ear and nose rings. the images of siva and two other gods were carried in procession round and round the temple--three or four times; nautch girls danced before the images, musicians, blowing horns and huge shells, or piping on flageolets or beating tom-toms, accompanied them. the crowd carrying torches or high crates with flaming coco-nuts, walked or rather danced along on each side, elated and excited with the sense of the present divinity, yet pleasantly free from any abject awe. the whole thing indeed reminded one of some bas-relief of a bacchanalian procession carved on a greek sarcophagus--and especially so in its hilarity and suggestion of friendly intimacy with the god. there were singing of hymns and the floating of the chief actors on a raft round a sacred lake. and then came the final act. siva, or his image, very weighty and borne on the shoulders of strong men, was carried into the first chamber or hall of the temple and placed on an altar with a curtain hanging in front. the crowd followed with a rush; and then there was more music, recital of hymns, and reading from sacred books. from where we stood we could see the rite which was performed behind the curtain. two five-branched candlesticks were lighted; and the manner of their lighting was as follows. each branch ended in a little cup, and in the cups five pieces of camphor were placed, all approximately equal in size. after offerings had been made, of fruit, flowers and sandalwood, the five camphors in each candlestick were lighted. as the camphor flames burned out the music became more wild and exciting, and then at the moment of their extinction the curtains were drawn aside and the congregation outside suddenly beheld the god revealed and in a blaze of light. this burning of camphor was, like other things in the service, emblematic. the five lights represent the five senses. just as camphor consumes itself and leaves no residue behind, so should the five senses, being offered to the god, consume themselves and disappear. when this is done, that happens in the soul which was now figured in the ritual--the god is revealed in the inner light. ( ) ( ) for a more detailed account of this temple-festival, see adam's peak to elephanta by e. carpenter, ch. vii. we are familiar with this parting or rending of the veil. we hear of it in the jewish temple, and in the greek and egyptian mysteries. it had a mystically religious, and also obviously sexual, signification. it occurs here and there in the roman catholic ritual. in spain, some ancient catholic ceremonials are kept up with a brilliance and splendor hardly found elsewhere in europe. in the cathedral, at seville the service of the passion, carried out on good friday with great solemnity and accompanied with fine music, culminates on the saturday morning--i.e. in the interval between the crucifixion and the resurrection--in a spectacle similar to that described in ceylon. a rich velvet-black curtain hangs before the high altar. at the appropriate moment and as the very emotional strains of voices and instruments reach their climax in the "gloria in excelsis," the curtain with a sudden burst of sound (thunder and the ringing of all the bells) is rent asunder, and the crucified jesus is seen hanging there revealed in a halo of glory. there is also held at seville cathedral and before the high altar every year, the very curious dance of the seises (sixes), performed now by instead of (as of old) by boys, quaintly dressed. it seems to be a survival of some very ancient ritual, probably astronomical, in which the two sets of six represent the signs of the zodiac, and is celebrated during the festivals of corpus christi, the immaculate conception, and the carnival. numerous instances might of course be adduced of how a church aspiring to be a real church of humanity might adopt and re-create the rituals of the past in the light of a modern inspiration. indeed the difficulty would be to limit the process, for every ancient ritual, we can now see, has had a meaning and a message, and it would be a real joy to disentangle these and to expose the profound solidarity of humanity and aspiration from the very dawn of civilization down to the present day. nor would it be necessary to imagine any act of uniformity or dead level of ceremonial in the matter. different groups might concentrate on different phases of religious thought and practice. the only necessity would be that they should approach the subject with a real love of humanity in their hearts and a real desire to come into touch with the deep inner life and mystic growing-pains of the souls of men and women in all ages. in this direction m. loisy has done noble and excellent work; but the dead weight and selfish blinkerdom of the catholic organization has hampered him to that degree that he has been unable to get justice done to his liberalizing designs--or, perhaps, even to reveal the full extent of them. and the same difficulty will remain. on the one hand no spiritual movement which does not take up the attitude of a world-religion has now in this age, any chance of success; on the other, all the existing churches--whether roman catholic, or greek, or protestant or secularist--whether christian or jewish or persian or hindu--will in all probability adopt the same blind and blinkered and selfish attitude as that described above, and so disqualify themselves for the great role of world-wide emancipation, which some religion at some time will certainly have to play. it is the same difficulty which is looming large in modern world-politics, where the local selfishness and vainglorious "patriotisms" of the nations are sadly impeding and obstructing the development of that sense of internationalism and brotherhood which is the clearly indicated form of the future, and which alone can give each nation deliverance from fear, and a promise of growth, and the confident assurance of power. i say that christianity must either frankly adopt this generous attitude and confess itself a branch of the great world-religion, anxious only to do honor to its source--or else it must perish and pass away. there is no other alternative. the hour of its exodus has come. it may be, of course, that neither the christian church nor any branch of it, nor any other religious organization, will step into the gap. it may be--but i do not think this is likely--that the time of rites and ceremonies and formal creeds is past, and churches of any kind will be no more needed in the world: not likely, i say, because of the still far backwardness of the human masses, and their considerable dependence yet on laws and forms and rituals. still, if it should prove that that age of dependence is really approaching its end, that would surely be a matter for congratulation. it would mean that mankind was moving into a knowledge of the reality which has underlain these outer shows--that it was coming into the third stage of its consciousness. having found this there would be no need for it to dwell any longer in the land of superstitions and formulae. it would have come to the place of which these latter are only the outlying indications. it may, therefore, happen--and this quite independently of the growth of a world-cult such as i have described, though by no means in antagonism to it--that a religious philosophy or theosophy might develop and spread, similar to the gnonam of the hindus or the gnomsis of the pre-christian sects, which would become, first among individuals and afterwards among large bodies over the world, the religion of--or perhaps one should say the religious approach to the third state. books like the upanishads of the vedic seers, and the bhagavat gita, though garbled and obscured by priestly interferences and mystifications, do undoubtedly represent and give expression to the highest utterance of religious experience to be found anywhere in the world. they are indeed the manuals of human entrance into the cosmic state. but as i say, and as has happened in the case of other sacred books, a vast deal of rubbish has accreted round their essential teachings, and has to be cleared away. to go into a serious explication of the meaning of these books would be far too large an affair, and would be foreign to the purpose of the present volume; but i have in the appendix below inserted two papers, (on "rest" and "the nature of the self") containing the substance of lectures given on the above books. these papers or lectures are couched in the very simplest language, free from sanskrit terms and the usual 'jargon of the schools,' and may, i hope, even on that account be of use in familiarizing readers who are not specially students with the ideas and mental attitudes of the cosmic state. non-differentiation (advaita ( )) is the root attitude of the mind inculcated. ( ) the word means "not-two-ness." here we see a great subtlety of definition. it is not to be "one" with others that is urged, but to be "not two." we have seen that there has been an age of non-differentiation in the past-non-differentiation from other members of the tribe, from the animals, from nature and the spirit or spirits of nature; why should there not arise a similar sense of non-differentiation in the future--similar but more extended more intelligent? certainly this will arrive, in its own appointed time. there will be a surpassing of the bounds of separation and division. there will be a surpassing of all taboos. we have seen the use and function of taboos in the early stages of evolution and how progress and growth have been very much a matter of their gradual extinction and assimilation into the general body of rational thought and feeling. unreasoning and idiotic taboos still linger, but they grow weaker. a new morality will come which will shake itself free from them. the sense of kinship with the animals (as in the old rituals) ( ) will be restored; the sense of kinship with all the races of mankind will grow and become consolidated; the sense of the defilement and impurity of the human body will (with the adoption of a generally clean and wholesome life) pass away; and the body itself will come to be regarded more as a collection of shrines in which the gods may be worshiped and less as a mere organ of trivial self-gratifications; ( ) there will be no form of nature, or of human life or of the lesser creatures, which will be barred from the approach of man or from the intimate and penetrating invasion of his spirit; and as in certain ceremonies and after honorable toils and labors a citizen is sometimes received into the community of his own city, so the emancipated human being on the completion of his long long pilgrimage on earth will be presented with the freedom of the universe. ( ) the record of the roman catholic church has been sadly callous and inhuman in this matter of the animals. ( ) see the art of creation, by e. carpenter. xvii. conclusion in conclusion there does not seem much to say, except to accentuate certain points which may still appear doubtful or capable of being understood. the fact that the main argument of this volume is along the lines of psychological evolution will no doubt commend it to some, while on the other hand it will discredit the book to others whose eyes, being fixed on purely material causes, can see no impetus in history except through these. but it must be remembered that there is not the least reason for separating the two factors. the fact that psychologically man has evolved from simple consciousness to self-consciousness, and is now in process of evolution towards another and more extended kind of consciousness, does not in the least bar the simultaneous appearance and influence of material evolution. it is clear indeed that the two must largely go together, acting and reacting on each other. whatever the physical conditions of the animal brain may be which connect themselves with simple (unreflected and unreflecting) consciousness, it is evident that these conditions--in animals and primitive man--lasted for an enormous period, before the distinct consciousness of the individual and separate self arose. this second order of consciousness seems to have germinated at or about the same period as the discovery of the use of tools (tools of stone, copper, bronze, &c.), the adoption of picture-writing and the use of reflective words (like "i" and "thou"); and it led on to the appreciation of gold and of iron with their ornamental and practical values, the accumulation of property, the establishment of slavery of various kinds, the subjection of women, the encouragement of luxury and self-indulgence, the growth of crowded cities and the endless conflicts and wars so resulting. we can see plainly that the incoming of the self-motive exercised a direct stimulus on the pursuit of these material objects and adaptations; and that the material adaptations in their turn did largely accentuate the self-motive; but to insist that the real explanation of the whole process is only to be found along one channel--the material or the psychical--is clearly quite unnecessary. those who understand that all matter is conscious in some degree, and that all consciousness has a material form of some kind, will be the first to admit this. the same remarks apply to the third stage. we can see that in modern times the huge and unlimited powers of production by machinery, united with a growing tendency towards intelligent birth-control, are preparing the way for an age of communism and communal plenty which will inevitably be associated (partly as cause and partly as effect) with a new general phase of consciousness, involving the mitigation of the struggle for existence, the growth of intuitional and psychical perception, the spread of amity and solidarity, the disappearance of war, and the realization (in degree) of the cosmic life. perhaps the greatest difficulty or stumbling-block to the general acceptance of the belief in a third (or 'golden-age') phase of human evolution is the obstinate and obdurate pre-judgment that the passing of humanity out of the second stage can only mean the entire abandonment of self-consciousness; and this people say--and quite rightly--is both impossible and undesirable. throughout the preceding chapters i have striven, wherever feasible, to counter this misunderstanding--but i have little hope of success. the determination of the world to misunderstand or misinterpret anything a little new or unfamiliar is a thing which perhaps only an author can duly appreciate. but while it is clear that self-consciousness originally came into being through a process of alienation and exile and fear which marked it with the cain-like brand of loneliness and apartness, it is equally clear that to think of that apartness as an absolute and permanent separation is an illusion, since no being can really continue to live divorced from the source of its life. for a period in evolution the self took on this illusive form in consciousness, as of an ignis fatuus--the form of a being sundered from all other beings, atomic, lonely, without refuge, surrounded by dangers and struggling, for itself alone and for its own salvation in the midst of a hostile environment. perhaps some such terrible imagination was necessary at first, as it were to start humanity on its new path. but it had its compensation, for the sufferings and tortures, mental and bodily, the privations, persecutions, accusations, hatreds, the wars and conflicts--so endured by millions of individuals and whole races--have at length stamped upon the human mind a sense of individual responsibility which otherwise perhaps would never have emerged, and whose mark can now be effaced; ultimately, too, these things have searched our inner nature to its very depths and exposed its bed-rock foundation. they have convinced us that this idea of ultimate separation is an illusion, and that in truth we are all indefeasible and indestructible parts of one great unity in which "we live and move and have our being." that being so, it is clear that there remains in the end a self-consciousness which need by no means be abandoned, which indeed only comes to its true fruition and understanding when it recognizes its affiliation with the whole, and glories in an individuality which is an expression both of itself and of the whole. the human child at its mother's knee probably comes first to know it has a 'self' on some fateful day when having wandered afar it goes lost among alien houses and streets or in the trackless fields. that appalling experience--the sense of danger, of fear, of loneliness--is never forgotten; it stamps some new sense of being upon the childish mind, but that sense, instead of being destroyed, becomes all the prouder and more radiant in the hour of return to the mother's arms. the return, the salvation, for which humanity looks, is the return of the little individual self to harmony and union with the great self of the universe, but by no means its extinction or abandonment--rather the finding of its own true nature as never before. there is another thing which may be said here: namely, that the disentanglement, as above, of three main stages of psychological evolution as great formative influences in the history of mankind, does not by any means preclude the establishment of lesser stages within the boundaries of these. in all probability subdivisions of all the three will come in time to be recognized and allowed for. to take the second stage only, it may appear that self-consciousness in its first development is characterized by an accentuation of timidity; in its second development by a more deliberate pursuit of sensual pleasure (lust, food, drink, &c.); in its third by the pursuit of mental gratifications (vanities, ambitions, enslavement of others); in its fourth by the pursuit of property, as a means of attaining these objects; in its fifth by the access of enmities, jealousies, wars and so forth, consequent on all these things; and so on. i have no intention at present of following out this line of thought, but only wish to suggest its feasibility and the degree to which it may throw light on the social evolutions of the past. ( ) ( ) for an analysis of the nature of self-consciousness see vol. iii, p. sq. of the three ponderous tomes by wilhelm wundt--grund-zuge der physiologischen psychologie--in which amid an enormous mass of verbiage occasional gleams of useful suggestion are to be found. as a kind of rude general philosophy we may say that there are only two main factors in life, namely, love and ignorance. and of these we may also say that the two are not in the same plane: one is positive and substantial, the other is negative and merely illusory. it may be thought at first that fear and hatred and cruelty, and the like, are very positive things, but in the end we see that they are due merely to absence of perception, to dulness of understanding. or we may put the statement in a rather less crude form, and say that there are only two factors in life: ( ) the sense of unity with others (and with nature)--which covers love, faith, courage, truth, and so forth, and ( ) non-perception of the same--which covers enmity, fear, hatred, self-pity, cruelty, jealousy, meanness and an endless similar list. the present world which we see around us, with its idiotic wars, its senseless jealousies of nations and classes, its fears and greeds and vanities and its futile endeavors--as of people struggling in a swamp--to find one's own salvation by treading others underfoot, is a negative phenomenon. ignorance, non-perception, are at the root of it. but it is the blessed virtue of ignorance and of non-perception that they inevitably-if only slowly and painfully--destroy themselves. all experience serves to dissipate them. the world, as it is, carries' the doom of its own transformation in its bosom; and in proportion as that which is negative disappears the positive element must establish itself more and more. so we come back to that with which we began, ( ) to fear bred by ignorance. from that source has sprung the long catalogue of follies, cruelties and sufferings which mark the records of the human race since the dawn of history; and to the overcoming of this fear we perforce must look for our future deliverance, and for the discovery, even in the midst of this world, of our true home. the time is coming when the positive constructive element must dominate. it is inevitable that man must ever build a state of society around him after the pattern and image of his own interior state. the whole futile and idiotic structure of commerce and industry in which we are now imprisoned springs from that falsehood of individualistic self-seeking which marks the second stage of human evolution. that stage is already tottering to its fall, destroyed by the very flood of egotistic passions and interests, of vanities, greeds, and cruelties, all warring with each other, which are the sure outcome and culmination of its operation. with the restoration of the sentiment of the common life, and the gradual growth of a mental attitude corresponding, there will emerge from the flood something like a solid earth--something on which it will be possible to build with good hope for the future. schemes of reconstruction are well enough in their way, but if there is no ground of real human solidarity beneath, of what avail are they? ( ) see introduction, ch. i. an industrial system which is no real industrial order, but only (on the part of the employers) a devil's device for securing private profit under the guise of public utility, and (on the part of the employed) a dismal and poor-spirited renunciation--for the sake of a bare living--of all real interest in life and work: such a 'system' must infallibly pass away. it cannot in the nature of things be permanent. the first condition of social happiness and prosperity must be the sense of the common life. this sense, which instinctively underlay the whole tribal order of the far past--which first came to consciousness in the worship of a thousand pagan divinities, and in the rituals of countless sacrifices, initiations, redemptions, love-feasts and communions, which inspired the dreams of the golden age, and flashed out for a time in the communism of the early christians and in their adorations of the risen savior--must in the end be the creative condition of a new order: it must provide the material of which the golden city waits to be built. the long travail of the world-religion will not have been in vain, which assures this consummation. what the signs and conditions of any general advance into this new order of life and consciousness will be, we know not. it may be that as to individuals the revelation of a new vision often comes quite suddenly, and generally perhaps after a period of great suffering, so to society at large a similar revelation will arrive--like "the lightning which cometh out of the east and shineth even unto the west"--with unexpected swiftness. on the other hand it would perhaps be wise not to count too much on any such sudden transformation. when we look abroad (and at home) in this year of grace and hoped-for peace, , and see the spirits of rancour and revenge, the fears, the selfish blindness and the ignorance, which still hold in their paralyzing grasp huge classes and coteries in every country in the world, we see that the second stage of human development is by no means yet at its full term, and that, as in some vast chrysalis, for the liberation of the creature within still more and more terrible struggles may be necessary. we can only pray that such may not be the case. anyhow, if we have followed the argument of this book we can hardly doubt that the destruction (which is going on everywhere) of the outer form of the present society marks the first stage of man's final liberation; and that, sooner or later, and in its own good time, that further 'divine event' will surely be realized. nor need we fear that humanity, when it has once entered into the great deliverance, will be again overpowered by evil. from knowledge back to ignorance there is no complete return. the nations that have come to enlightenment need entertain no dread of those others (however hostile they appear) who are still plunging darkly in the troubled waters of self-greed. the dastardly fears which inspire all brutishness and cruelty of warfare--whether of white against white or it may be of white against yellow or black--may be dismissed for good and all by that blest race which once shall have gained the shore--since from the very nature of the case those who are on dry land can fear nothing and need fear nothing from the unfortunates who are yet tossing in the welter and turmoil of the waves. dr. frazer, in the conclusion of his great work the golden bough, ( ) bids farewell to his readers with the following words: "the laws of nature are merely hypotheses devised to explain that ever-shifting phantasmagoria of thought which we dignify with the high-sounding names of the world and the universe. in the last analysis magic, religion and science are nothing but theories (of thought); and as science has supplanted its predecessors so it may hereafter itself be superseded by some more perfect hypothesis, perhaps by some perfectly different way of looking at phenomena--of registering the shadows on the screen--of which we in this generation can form no idea." i imagine dr. frazer is right in thinking that "a way of looking at phenomena" different from the way of science, may some day prevail. but i think this change will come, not so much by the growth of science itself or the extension of its 'hypotheses,' as by a growth and expansion of the human heart and a change in its psychology and powers of perception. perhaps some of the preceding chapters will help to show how much the outlook of humanity on the world has been guided through the centuries by the slow evolution of its inner consciousness. gradually, out of an infinite mass of folly and delusion, the human soul has in this way disentangled itself, and will in the future disentangle itself, to emerge at length in the light of true freedom. all the taboos, the insane terrors, the fatuous forbiddals of this and that (with their consequent heart-searchings and distress) may perhaps have been in their way necessary, in order to rivet and define the meaning and the understanding of that word. to-day these taboos and terrors still linger, many of them, in the form of conventions of morality, uneasy strivings of conscience, doubts and desperations of religion; but ultimately man will emerge from all these things, free--familiar, that is, with them all, making use of all, allowing generously for the values of all, but hampered and bound by none. he will realize the inner meaning of the creeds and rituals of the ancient religions, and will hail with joy the fulfilment of their far prophecy down the ages--finding after all the long-expected saviour of the world within his own breast, and paradise in the disclosure there of the everlasting peace of the soul. ( ) see "balder," vol. ii, pp. , . ("farewell to nemi.") appendix the teaching of the upanishads being the substance of two lectures to popular audiences i. rest ii. the nature of the self i. rest to some, in the present whirlpool of life and affairs it may seem almost an absurdity to talk about rest. for long enough now rest has seemed a thing far off and unattainable. with the posts knocking at our doors ten or twelve times a day, with telegrams arriving every hour, and the telephone bell constantly ringing; with motors rushing wildly about the streets, and aeroplanes whizzing overhead, with work speeded up in every direction, and the drive in the workshops becoming more intolerable every day; with the pace of the walkers and the pace of the talkers from hour to hour insanely increasing--what room, it may well be asked, is there for rest? and now the issues of war, redoubling the urgency of all questions, are on us. the problem is obviously a serious one. so urgent is it that i think one may safely say the amount of insanity due to the pressure of daily life is increasing; nursing-homes have sprung up for the special purpose of treating such cases; and doctors are starting special courses of tuition in the art--now becoming very important--of systematically doing nothing! and yet it is difficult to see the outcome of it all. the clock of what is called progress is not easily turned backward. we should not very readily agree nowadays to the abolition of telegrams or to a regulation compelling express trains to stop at every station! we can't all go to nursing homes, or afford to enjoy a winter's rest-cure in egypt. and, if not, is the speeding-up process to go on indefinitely, incapable of being checked, and destined ultimately to land civilization in the mad-house? it is, i say, a serious and an urgent problem. and it is, i think, forcing a certain answer on us--which i will now endeavor to explain. if we cannot turn back and reverse this fatal onrush of modern life (and it is evident that we cannot do so in any very brief time--though of course ultimately we might succeed) then i think there are clearly only two alternatives left--either to go forward to general dislocation and madness, or--to learn to rest even in the very midst of the hurry and the scurry. to explain what i mean, let me use an illustration. the typhoons and cyclones of the china seas are some of the most formidable storms that ships can encounter. their paths in the past have been strewn with wrecks and disaster. but now with increased knowledge much of their danger has been averted. it is known that they are circular in character, and that though the wind on their outskirts often reaches a speed of miles an hour, in the centre of the storm there is a space of complete calm--not a calm of the sea certainly, but a complete absence of wind. the skilled navigator, if he cannot escape the storm, steers right into the heart of it, and rests there. even in the midst of the clatter he finds a place of quiet where he can trim his sails and adjust his future course. he knows too from his position in what direction at every point around him the wind is moving and where it will strike him when at last his ship emerges from the charmed circle. is it not possible, we may ask, that in the very midst of the cyclone of daily life we may find a similar resting-place? if we can, our case is by no means hopeless. if we cannot, then indeed there is danger. looking back in history we seem to see that in old times people took life much more leisurely than they do now. the elder generations gave more scope in their customs and their religions for contentment and peace of mind. we associate a certain quietism and passivity with the thought of the eastern peoples. but as civilization traveled westward external activity and the pace of life increased--less and less time was left for meditation and repose--till with the rise of western europe and america, the dominant note of life seems to have simply become one of feverish and ceaseless activity--of activity merely for the sake of activity, without any clear idea of its own purpose or object. such a prospect does not at first seem very hopeful; but on second thoughts we see that we are not forced to draw any very pessimistic conclusion from it. the direction of human evolution need not remain always the same. the movement, in fact, of civilization from east to west has now clearly completed itself. the globe has been circled, and we cannot go any farther to the west without coming round to the east again. it is a commonplace to say that our psychology, our philosophy and our religious sense are already taking on an eastern color; nor is it difficult to imagine that with the end of the present dispensation a new era may perfectly naturally arrive in which the st. vitus' dance of money-making and ambition will cease to be the chief end of existence. in the history of nations as in the history of individuals there are periods when the formative ideals of life (through some hidden influence) change; and the mode of life and evolution in consequence changes also. i remember when i was a boy wishing--like many other boys--to go to sea. i wanted to join the navy. it was not, i am sure, that i was so very anxious to defend my country. no, there was a much simpler and more prosaic motive than that. the ships of those days with their complex rigging suggested a perfect paradise of climbing, and i know that it was the thought of that which influenced me. to be able to climb indefinitely among those ropes and spars! how delightful! of course i knew perfectly well that i should not always have free access to the rigging; but then--some day, no doubt, i should be an admiral, and who then could prevent me? i remember seeing myself in my mind's eye, with cocked hat on my head and spy-glass under my arm, roaming at my own sweet will up aloft, regardless of the remonstrances which might reach me from below! such was my childish ideal. but a time came--needless to say--when i conceived a different idea of the object of life. it is said that john tyndall, whose lectures on science were so much sought after in their time, being on one occasion in new york was accosted after his discourse by a very successful american business man, who urged him to devote his scientific knowledge and ability to commercial pursuits, promising that if he did so, he, tyndall, would easily make "a big pile." tyndall very calmly replied, "well, i myself thought of that once, but i soon abandoned the idea, having come to the conclusion that i had no time to waste in making money." the man of dollars nearly sank into the ground. such a conception of life had never entered his head before. but to tyndall no doubt it was obvious that if he chained himself to the commercial ideal all the joy and glory of his days would be gone. we sometimes hear of the awful doom of some of the russian convicts in the quarries and mines of siberia, who are (or were) chained permanently to their wheelbarrows. it is difficult to imagine a more dreadful fate: the despair, the disgust, the deadly loathing of the accursed thing from which there is no escape day or night--which is the companion not only of the prisoner's work but of his hours of rest--with which he has to sleep, to feed, to take his recreation if he has any, and to fulfil all the offices of nature. could anything be more crushing? and yet, and yet... is it not true that we, most of us, in our various ways are chained to our wheelbarrows--is it not too often true that to these beggarly things we have for the most part chained ourselves? let me be understood. of course we all have (or ought to have) our work to do. we have our living to get, our families to support, our trade, our art, our profession to pursue. in that sense no doubt we are tied; but i take it that these things are like the wheelbarrow which a man uses while he is at work. it may irk him at times, but he sticks to it with a good heart, and with a certain joy because it is the instrument of a noble purpose. that is all right. but to be chained to it, not to be able to leave it when the work of the day is done--that is indeed an ignoble slavery. i would say, then, take care that even with these things, these necessary arts of life, you preserve your independence, that even if to some degree they may confine your body they do not enslave your mind. for it is the freedom of the mind which counts. we are all no doubt caught in the toils of the earth-life. one man is largely dominated by sensual indulgence, another by ambition, another by the pursuit of money. well, these things are all right in themselves. without the pleasures of the senses we should be dull mokes indeed; without ambition much of the zest and enterprise of life would be gone; gold, in the present order of affairs, is a very useful servant. these things are right enough--but to be chained to them, to be unable to think of anything else--what a fate! the subject reminds one of a not uncommon spectacle. it is a glorious day; the sun is bright, small white clouds float in the transparent blue--a day when you linger perforce on the road to enjoy the scene. but suddenly here comes a man painfully running all hot and dusty and mopping his head, and with no eye, clearly, for anything around him. what is the matter? he is absorbed by one idea. he is running to catch a train! and one cannot help wondering what exceedingly important business it must be for which all this glory and beauty is sacrificed, and passed by as if it did not exist. further we must remember that in our foolishness we very commonly chain ourselves, not only to things like sense-pleasures and ambitions which are on the edge, so to speak, of being vices; but also to other things which are accounted virtues, and which as far as i can see are just as bad, if we once become enslaved to them. i have known people who were so exceedingly 'spiritual' and 'good' that one really felt quite depressed in their company; i have known others whose sense of duty, dear things, was so strong that they seemed quite unable to rest, or even to allow their friends to rest; and i have wondered whether, after all, worriting about one's duty might not be as bad--as deteriorating to oneself, as distressing to one's friends--as sinning a good solid sin. no, in this respect virtues may be no better than vices; and to be chained to a wheelbarrow made of alabaster is no way preferable to being chained to one of wood. to sacrifice the immortal freedom of the mind in order to become a prey to self-regarding cares and anxieties, self-estimating virtues and vices, self-chaining duties and indulgences, is a mistake. and i warn you, it is quite useless. for the destiny of freedom is ultimately upon every one, and if refusing it for a time you heap your life persistently upon one object--however blameless in itself that object may be--beware! for one day--and when you least expect it--the gods will send a thunderbolt upon you. one day the thing for which you have toiled and spent laborious days and sleepless nights will lie broken before you--your reputation will be ruined, your ambition will be dashed, your savings of years will be lost--and for the moment you will be inclined to think that your life has been in vain. but presently you will wake up and find that something quite different has happened. you will find that the thunderbolt which you thought was your ruin has been your salvation--that it has broken the chain which bound you to your wheelbarrow, and that you are free! -------- i think you will now see what i mean by rest. rest is the loosing of the chains which bind us to the whirligig of the world, it is the passing into the centre of the cyclone; it is the stilling of thought. for (with regard to this last) it is thought, it is the attachment of the mind, which binds us to outer things. the outer things themselves are all right. it is only through our thoughts that they make slaves of us. obtain power over your thoughts and you are free. you can then use the outer things or dismiss them at your pleasure. there is nothing new of course in all this. it has been known for ages; and is part of the ancient philosophy of the world. in the katha upanishad you will find these words (max muller's translation): "as rainwater that has fallen on a mountain ridge runs down on all sides, thus does he who sees a difference between qualities run after them on all sides." this is the figure of the man who does not rest. and it is a powerful likeness. the thunder shower descends on the mountain top; torrents of water pour down the crags in every direction. imagine the state of mind of a man--however thirsty he may be--who endeavors to pursue and intercept all these streams! but then the upanishad goes on: "as pure water poured into pure water remains the same, thus, o gautama, is the self of a thinker who knows." what a perfect image of rest! imagine a cistern before you with transparent glass sides and filled with pure water. and then imagine some one comes with a phial, also of pure water, and pours the contents gently into the cistern. what will happen? almost nothing. the pure water will glide into the pure water--"remaining the same." there will be no dislocation, no discoloration (as might happen if muddy water were poured in); there will be only perfect harmony. i imagine here that the meaning is something like this. the cistern is the great reservoir of the universe which contains the pure and perfect spirit of all life. each one of us, and every mortal creature, represents a drop from that reservoir--a drop indeed which is also pure and perfect (though the phial in which it is contained may not always be so). when we, each of us, descend into the world and meet the great ocean of life which dwells there behind all mortal forms, it is like the little phial being poured into the great reservoir. if the tiny canful which is our selves is pure and unsoiled, then when it meets the world it will blend with the spirit which informs the world perfectly harmoniously, without distress or dislocation. it will pass through and be at one with it. how can one describe such a state of affairs? you will have the key to every person that you meet, because indeed you are conscious that the real essence of that person is the same as your own. you will have the solution of every event which happens. for every event is (and is felt to be) the touch of the great spirit on yours. can any description of rest be more perfect than that? pure water poured into pure water.... there is no need to hurry, for everything will come in its good time. there is no need to leave your place, for all you desire is close at hand. here is another verse (from the vagasaneyi-samhita upanishad) embodying the same idea: "and he who beholds all beings in the self, and the self in all beings, he never turns away from it. when, to a man who understands, the self has become all things, what sorrow, what trouble, can there be to him--having once beheld that unity?"--what trouble, what sorrow, indeed, when the universe has become transparent with the presences of all we love, held firm in the one enfolding presence? but it will be said: "our minds are not pure and transparent. more often they are muddy and soiled--soiled, if not in their real essence, yet by reason of the mortal phial in which they are contained." and that alas! is true. if you pour a phial of muddy water into that reservoir which we described--what will you see? you will see a queer and ugly cloud formed. and to how many of us, in our dealings with the world, does life take on just such a form--of a queer and ugly cloud? now not so very long after those upanishads were written there lived in china that great teacher, lao-tze; and he too had considered these things. and he wrote--in the tao-teh-king--"who is there who can make muddy water clear?" the question sounds like a conundrum. for a moment one hesitates to answer it. lao-tze, however, has an answer ready. he says: "but if you leave it alone it will become clear of itself." that muddy water of the mind, muddied by all the foolish little thoughts which like a sediment infest it--but if you leave it alone it will become clear of itself. sometimes walking along the common road after a shower you have seen pools of water lying here and there, dirty and unsightly with the mud stirred up by the hoofs of men and animals. and then returning some hours afterwards along the same road--in the evening and after the cessation of traffic--you have looked again, and lo! each pool has cleared itself to a perfect calm, and has become a lovely mirror reflecting the trees and the clouds and the sunset and the stars. so this mirror of the mind. leave it alone. let the ugly sediment of tiresome thoughts and anxieties, and of fussing over one's self-importances and duties, settle down--and presently you will look on it, and see something there which you never knew or imagined before--something more beautiful than you ever yet beheld--a reflection of the real and eternal world such is only given to the mind that rests. do not recklessly spill the waters of your mind in this direction and in that, lest you become like a spring lost and dissipated in the desert. but draw them together into a little compass, and hold them still, so still; and let them become clear, so clear--so limpid, so mirror-like; at last the mountains and the sky shall glass themselves in peaceful beauty, and the antelope shall descend to drink, and the lion to quench his thirst, and love himself shall come and bend over, and catch his own likeness in you. ( ) ( ) towards democracy, p. . yes, there is this priceless thing within us, but hoofing along the roads in the mud we fail to find it; there is this region of calm, but the cyclone of the world raging around guards us from entering it. perhaps it is best so--best that the access to it should not be made too easy. one day, some time ago, in the course of conversation with rabindranath tagore in london, i asked him what impressed him most in visiting the great city. he said, "the restless incessant movement of everybody." i said, "yes, they seem as if they were all rushing about looking for something." he replied, "it is because each person does not know of the great treasure he has within himself." -------- how then are we to reach this treasure and make it our own? how are we to attain to this stilling of the mind, which is the secret of all power and possession? the thing is difficult, no doubt; yet as i tried to show at the outset of this discourse, we moderns must reach it; we have got to attain to it--for the penalty of failure is and must be widespread madness. the power to still the mind--to be able, mark you, when you want, to enter into the region of rest, and to dismiss or command your thoughts--is a condition of health; it is a condition of all power and energy. for all health, whether of mind or body, resides in one's relation to the central life within. if one cannot get into touch with that, then the life-forces cannot flow down into the organism. most, perhaps all, disease arises from the disturbance of this connection. all mere hurry, all mere running after external things (as of the man after the water-streams on the mountain-top), inevitably breaks it. let a pond be allowed calmly under the influence of frost to crystallize, and most beautiful flowers and spears of ice will be formed, but keep stirring the water all the time with a stick or a pole and nothing will result but an ugly brash of half-frozen stuff. the condition of the exercise of power and energy is that it should proceed from a center of rest within one. so convinced am i of this, that whenever i find myself hurrying over my work, i pause and say, "now you are not producing anything good!" and i generally find that that is true. it is curious, but i think very noticeable, that the places where people hurry most--as for instance the city of london or wall street, new york--are just the places where the work being done is of least importance (being mostly money-gambling); whereas if you go and look at a ploughman ploughing--doing perhaps the most important of human work--you find all his movements most deliberate and leisurely, as if indeed he had infinite time at command; the truth being that in dealing (like a ploughman) with the earth and the horses and the weather and the things of nature generally you can no more hurry than nature herself hurries. following this line of thought it might seem that one would arrive at a hopeless paradox. if it be true that the less one hurries the better the work resulting, then it might seem that by sitting still and merely twirling one's thumbs one would arrive at the very greatest activity and efficiency! and indeed (if understood aright) there is a truth even in this, which--like the other points i have mentioned--has been known and taught long ages ago. says that humorous old sage, lao-tze, whom i have already quoted: "by non-action there is nothing that cannot be done." at first this sounds like mere foolery or worse; but afterwards thinking on it one sees there is a meaning hidden. there is a secret by which nature and the powers of the universal life will do all for you. the bhagavat gita also says, "he who discovers inaction in action and action in inaction is wise among mortals." it is worth while dwelling for a moment on these texts. we are all--as i said earlier on--involved in work belonging to our place and station; we are tied to some degree in the bonds of action. but that fact need not imprison our inner minds. while acting even with keenness and energy along the external and necessary path before us, it is perfectly possible to hold the mind free and untied--so that the result of our action (which of course is not ours to command) shall remain indifferent and incapable of unduly affecting us. similarly, when it is our part to remain externally inactive, we may discover that underneath this apparent inaction we may be taking part in the currents of a deeper life which are moving on to a definite end, to an end or object which in a sense is ours and in a sense is not ours. the lighthouse beam flies over land and sea with incredible velocity, and you think the light itself must be in swiftest movement; but when you climb up thither you find the lamp absolutely stationary. it is only the reflection that is moving. the rider on horseback may gallop to and fro wherever he will, but it is hard to say that he is acting. the horse guided by the slightest indication of the man's will performs an the action that is needed. if we can get into right touch with the immense, the incalculable powers of nature, is there anything which we may not be able to do? if a man worship the self only as his true state," says the brihad-aranyaka upanishad, "his work cannot fail, for whatever he desires, that he obtains from the self." what a wonderful saying, and how infallibly true! for obviously if you succeed in identifying your true being with the great self of the universe, then whatever you desire the great self will also desire, and therefore every power of nature will be at your service and will conspire to fulfil your need. there are marvelous things here "well wrapped up"--difficult to describe, yet not impossible to experience. and they all depend upon that power of stilling thought, that ability to pass unharmed and undismayed through the grinning legions of the lower mind into the very heart of paradise. the question inevitably arises, how can this power be obtained? and there is only one answer--the same answer which has to be given for the attainment of any power or faculty. there is no royal road. the only way is (however imperfectly) to do the thing in question, to practice it. if you would learn to play cricket, the only way is to play cricket; if you would be able to speak a language, the only way is to speak it. if you would learn to swim, the only way is to practice swimming. or would you wish to be like the man who when his companions were bathing and bidding him come and join them, said: "yes, i am longing to join you, but i am not going to be such a fool as to go into the water till i know how to swim!" there is nothing but practice. if you want to obtain that priceless power of commanding thought--of using it or dismissing it (for the two things go together) at will--there is no way but practice. and the practice consists in two exercises: (a) that of concentration--in holding the thought steadily for a time on one subject, or point of a subject; and (b) that of effacement--in effacing any given thought from the mind, and determining not to entertain it for such and such a time. both these exercises are difficult. failure in practicing them is certain--and may even extend over years. but the power equally certainly grows with practice. and ultimately there may come a time when the learner is not only able to efface from his mind any given thought (however importunate), but may even succeed in effacing, during short periods, all thought of any kind. when this stage is reached, the veil of illusion which surrounds all mortal things is pierced, and the entrance to the paradise of rest (and of universal power and knowledge) is found. of indirect or auxiliary methods of reaching this great conclusion, there are more than one. i think of life in the open air, if not absolutely necessary, at least most important. the gods--though sometimes out of compassion they visit the interiors of houses--are not fond of such places and the evil effluvium they find there, and avoid them as much as they can. it is not merely a question of breathing oxygen instead of carbonic acid. there is a presence and an influence in nature and the open which expands the mind and causes brigand cares and worries to drop off--whereas in confined places foolish and futile thoughts of all kinds swarm like microbes and cloud and conceal the soul. experto crede. it is only necessary to try this experiment in order to prove its truth. another thing which corresponds in some degree to living physically in the open air, is the living mentally and emotionally in the atmosphere of love. a large charity of mind, which refuses absolutely to shut itself in little secluded places of prejudice, bigotry and contempt for others, and which attains to a great and universal sympathy, helps, most obviously, to open the way to that region of calm and freedom of which we have spoken, while conversely all petty enmity, meanness and spite, conspire to imprison the soul and make its deliverance more difficult. it is not necessary to labor these points. as we said, the way to attain is to sincerely try to attain, to consistently practice attainment. whoever does this will find that the way will open out by degrees, as of one emerging from a vast and gloomy forest, till out of darkness the path becomes clear. for whomsoever really tries there is no failure; for every effort in that region is success, and every onward push, however small, and however little result it may show, is really a move forward, and one step nearer the light. ii. the nature of the self the true nature of the self is a matter by no means easy to compass. we have all probably at some time or other attempted to fathom the deeps of personality, and been baffled. some people say they can quite distinctly remember a moment in early childhood, about the age of three (though the exact period is of course only approximate) when self-consciousness--the awareness of being a little separate self--first dawned in the mind. it was generally at some moment of childish tension--alone perhaps in a garden, or lost from the mother's protecting hand--that this happened; and it was the beginning of a whole range of new experience. before some such period there is in childhood strictly speaking no distinct self-consciousness. as tennyson says (in memoriam xliv): the baby new to earth and sky, what time his tender palm is prest against the circle of the breast, hath never thought that "this is i." it has consciousness truly, but no distinctive self-consciousness. it is this absence or deficiency which explains many things which at first sight seem obscure in the psychology of children and of animals. the baby (it has often been noticed) experiences little or no sense of fear. it does not know enough to be afraid; it has never formed any image of itself, as of a thing which might be injured. it may shrink from actual pain or discomfort, but it does not look forward--which is of the essence of fear--to pain in the future. fear and self-consciousness are closely interlinked. similarly with animals, we often wonder how a horse or a cow can endure to stand out in a field all night, exposed to cold and rain, in the lethargic patient way that they exhibit. it is not that they do not feel the discomfort, but it is that they do not envisage themselves as enduring this pain and suffering for all those coming hours; and as we know with ourselves that nine-tenths of our miseries really consist in looking forward to future miseries, so we understand that the absence or at any rate slight prevalence of self-consciousness in animals enables them to endure forms of distress which would drive us mad. in time then the babe arrives at self-consciousness; and, as one might expect, the growing boy or girl often becomes intensely aware of self. his or her self-consciousness is crude, no doubt, but it has very little misgiving. if the question of the nature of the self is propounded to the boy as a problem he has no difficulty in solving it. he says "i know well enough who i am: i am the boy with red hair what gave jimmy brown such a jolly good licking last monday week." he knows well enough--or thinks he knows--who he is. and at a later age, though his definition may change and he may describe himself chiefly as a good cricketer or successful in certain examinations, his method is practically the same. he fixes his mind on a certain bundle of qualities and capacities which he is supposed to possess, and calls that bundle himself. and in a more elaborate way we most of us, i imagine, do the same. presently, however, with more careful thought, we begin to see difficulties in this view. i see that directly i think of myself as a certain bundle of qualities--and for that matter it is of no account whether the qualities are good or bad, or in what sort of charming confusion they are mixed--i see at once that i am merely looking at a bundle of qualities: and that the real "i," the self, is not that bundle, but is the being inspecting the same--something beyond and behind, as it were. so i now concentrate my thoughts upon that inner something, in order to find out what it really is. i imagine perhaps an inner being, of 'astral' or ethereal nature, and possessing a new range of much finer and more subtle qualities than the body--a being inhabiting the body and perceiving through its senses, but quite capable of surviving the tenement in which it dwells and i think of that as the self. but no sooner have i taken this step than i perceive that i am committing the same mistake as before. i am only contemplating a new image or picture, and "i" still remain beyond and behind that which i contemplate. no sooner do i turn my attention on the subjective being than it becomes objective, and the real subject retires into the background. and so on indefinitely. i am baffled; and unable to say positively what the self is. meanwhile there are people who look upon the foregoing speculations about an interior self as merely unpractical. being perhaps of a more materialistic type of mind they fix their attention on the body. frankly they try to define the self by the body and all that is connected therewith--that is by the mental as well as corporeal qualities which exhibit themselves in that connection; and they say, "at any rate the self--whatever it may be--is in some way limited by the body; each person studies the interest of his body and of the feelings, emotions and mentality directly associated with it, and you cannot get beyond that; it isn't in human nature to do so. the self is limited by this corporeal phenomenon and doubtless it perishes when the body perishes." but here again the conclusion, though specious at first, soon appears to be quite inadequate. for though it is possibly true that a man, if left alone in a robinson crusoe life on a desert island, might ultimately subside into a mere gratification of his corporeal needs and of those mental needs which were directly concerned with the body, yet we know that such a case would by no means be representative. on the contrary we know that vast numbers of people spend their lives in considering other people, and often so far as to sacrifice their own bodily and mental comfort and well-being. the mother spends her life thinking almost day and night about her babe and the other children--spending all her thoughts and efforts on them. you may call her selfish if you will, but her selfishness clearly extends beyond her personal body and mind, and extends to the personalities of her children around her; her "body"--if you insist on your definition--must be held to include the bodies of all her children. and again, the husband who is toiling for the support of the family, he is thinking and working and toiling and suffering for a 'self' which includes his wife and children. do you mean that the whole family is his "body"? or a man belongs to some society, to a church or to a social league of some kind, and his activities are largely ruled by the interests of this larger group. or he sacrifices his life--as many have been doing of late--with extraordinary bravery and heroism for the sake of the nation to which he belongs. must we say then that the whole nation is really a part of the man's body? or again, he gives his life and goes to the stake for his religion. whether his religion is right or wrong does not matter, the point is that there is that in him which can carry him far beyond his local self and the ordinary instincts of his physical organism, to dedicate his life and powers to a something of far wider circumference and scope. thus in the first of these two examples of a search for the nature of the self we are led inwards from point to point, into interior and ever subtler regions of our being, and still in the end are baffled; while in the second we are carried outwards into an ever wider and wider circumference in our quest of the ego, and still feel that we have failed to reach its ultimate nature. we are driven in fact by these two arguments to the conclusion that that which we are seeking is indeed something very vast--something far extending around, yet also buried deep in the hidden recesses of our minds. how far, how deep, we do not know. we can only say that as far as the indications point the true self is profounder and more far-reaching than anything we have yet fathomed. in the ordinary commonplace life we shrink to ordinary commonplace selves, but it is one of the blessings of great experiences, even though they are tragic or painful, that they throw us out into that enormously greater self to which we belong. sometimes, in moments of inspiration, of intense enthusiasm, of revelation, such as a man feels in the midst of a battle, in moments of love and dedication to another person, and in moments of religious ecstasy, an immense world is opened up to the astonished gaze of the inner man, who sees disclosed a self stretched far beyond anything he had ever imagined. we have all had experiences more or less of that kind. i have known quite a few people, and most of you have known some, who at some time, even if only once in their lives, have experienced such an extraordinary lifting of the veil, an opening out of the back of their minds as it were, and have had such a vision of the world, that they have never afterwards forgotten it. they have seen into the heart of creation, and have perceived their union with the rest of mankind. they have had glimpses of a strange immortality belonging to them, a glimpse of their belonging to a far greater being than they have ever imagined. just once--and a man has never forgotten it, and even if it has not recurred it has colored all the rest of his life. now, this subject has been thought about--since the beginning of the world, i was going to say--but it has been thought about since the beginnings of history. some three thousand years ago certain groups of--i hardly like to call them philosophers--but, let us say, people who were meditating and thinking upon these problems, were in the habit of locating themselves in the forests of northern india; and schools arose there. in the case of each school some teacher went into the woods and collected groups of disciples around him, who lived there in his company and listened to his words. such schools were formed in very considerable numbers, and the doctrines of these teachers were gathered together, generally by their disciples, in notes, which notes were brought together into little pamphlets or tracts, forming the books which are called the 'upanishads' of the indian sages. they contain some extraordinary words of wisdom, some of which i want to bring before you. the conclusions arrived at were not so much what we should call philosophy in the modern sense. they were not so much the result of the analysis of the mind and the following out of concatenations of strict argument; but they were flashes of intuition and experience, and all through the 'upanishads' you find these extraordinary flashes embedded in the midst of a great deal of what we should call a rather rubbishy kind of argument, and a good deal of merely conventional brahmanical talk of those days. but the people who wrote and spoke thus had an intuition into the heart of things which i make bold to say very few people in modern life have. these 'upanisihads,' however various their subject, practically agree on one point--in the definition of the "self." they agree in saying: that the self of each man is continuous with and in a sense identical with the self of the universe. now that seems an extraordinary conclusion, and one which almost staggers the modern mind to conceive of. but that is the conclusion, that is the thread which runs all through the 'upanishads'--the identity of the self of each individual with the self of every other individual throughout mankind, and even with the selves of the animals and other creatures. those who have read the khandogya upanishad remember how in that treatise the father instructs his son svetakeitu on this very subject--pointing him out in succession the objects of nature and on each occasion exhorting him to realize his identity with the very essence of the object--"tat twam asi, that thou art." he calls svetaketu's attention to a tree. what is the essence of the tree? when they have rejected the external characteristics--the leaves, the branches, etc.--and agreed that the sap is the essence, then the father says, "tat twam asi--that thou art." he gives his son a crystal of salt, and asks him what is the essence of that. the son is puzzled. clearly neither the form nor the transparent quality are essential. the father says, "put the crystal in water." then when it is melted he says, "where is the crystal?" the son replies, "i do not know." "dip your finger in the bowl," says the father, "and taste." then svetaketu dips here and there, and everywhere there is a salt flavor. they agree that that is the essence of salt; and the father says again, "tat twam asi." i am of course neither defending nor criticizing the scientific attitude here adopted. i am only pointing out that this psychological identification of the observer with the object observed runs through the upanishads, and is i think worthy of the deepest consideration. in the 'bhagavat gita,' which is a later book, the author speaks of "him whose soul is purified, whose self is the self of all creatures." a phrase like that challenges opposition. it is so bold, so sweeping, and so immense, that we hesitate to give our adhesion to what it implies. but what does it mean--"whose soul is purified"? i believe that it means this, that with most of us our souls are anything but clean or purified, they are by no means transparent, so that all the time we are continually deceiving ourselves and making clouds between us and others. we are all the time grasping things from other people, and, if not in words, are mentally boasting ourselves against others, trying to think of our own superiority to the rest of the people around us. sometimes we try to run our neighbors down a little, just to show that they are not quite equal to our level. we try to snatch from others some things which belong to them, or take credit to ourselves for things to which we are not fairly entitled. but all the time we are acting so it is perfectly obvious that we are weaving veils between ourselves and others. you cannot have dealings with another person in a purely truthful way, and be continually trying to cheat that person out of money, or out of his good name and reputation. if you are doing that, however much in the background you may be doing it, you are not looking the person fairly in the face--there is a cloud between you all the time. so long as your soul is not purified from all these really absurd and ridiculous little desires and superiorities and self-satisfactions, which make up so much of our lives, just so long as that happens you do not and you cannot see the truth. but when it happens to a person, as it does happen in times of great and deep and bitter experience; when it happens that all these trumpery little objects of life are swept away; then occasionally, with astonishment, the soul sees that. it is also the soul of the others around. even if it does not become aware of an absolute identity, it perceives that there is a deep relationship and communion between itself and others, and it comes to understand how it may really be true that to him whose soul is purified the self is literally the self of all creatures. ordinary men and those who go on more intellectual and less intuitional lines will say that these ideas are really contrary to human nature and to nature generally. yet i think that those people who say this in the name of science are extremely unscientific, because a very superficial glance at nature reveals that the very same thing is taking place throughout nature. consider the madrepores, corallines, or sponges. you find, for instance, that constantly the little self of the coralline or sponge is functioning at the end of a stem and casting forth its tentacles into the water to gain food and to breathe the air out of the water. that little animalcule there, which is living in that way, imagines no doubt that it is working all for itself, and yet it is united down the stem at whose extremity it stands, with the life of the whole madrepore or sponge to which it belongs. there is the common life of the whole and the individual life of each, and while the little creature at the end of the stem is thinking (if it is conscious at all) that its whole energies are absorbed in its own maintenance, it really is feeding the common life through the stem to which it belongs, and in its turn it is being fed by that common life. you have only to look at an ordinary tree to see the same thing going on. each little leaf on a tree may very naturally have sufficient consciousness to believe that it is an entirely separate being maintaining itself in the sunlight and the air, withering away and dying when the winter comes on--and there is an end of it. it probably does not realize that all the time it is being supported by the sap which flows from the trunk of the tree, and that in its turn it is feeding the tree, too--that its self is the self of the whole tree. if the leaf could really understand itself, it would see that its self was deeply, intimately connected, practically one with the life of the whole tree. therefore, i say that this indian view is not unscientific. on the contrary, i am sure that it is thoroughly scientific. let us take another passage, out of the 'svetasvatara upanishad,' which, speaking of the self says: "he is the one god, hidden in all creatures, all pervading, the self within all, watching over all works, shadowing all creatures, the witness, the perceiver, the only one free from qualities." and now we can return to the point where we left the argument at the beginning of this discourse. we said, you remember, that the self is certainly no mere bundle of qualities--that the very nature of the mind forbids us thinking that. for however fine and subtle any quality or group of qualities may be, we are irresistibly compelled by the nature of the mind itself to look for the self, not in any quality or qualities, but in the being that perceives those qualities. the passage i have just quoted says that being is "the one god, hidden in all creatures, all pervading, the self within all... the witness, the perceiver, the only one free from qualities." and the more you think about it the clearer i think you will see that this passage is correct--that there can be only one witness, one perceiver, and that is the one god hidden in all creatures, "sarva sakshi," the universal witness. have you ever had that curious feeling, not uncommon, especially in moments of vivid experience and emotion, that there was at the back of your mind a witness, watching everything that was going on, yet too deep for your ordinary thought to grasp? has it not occurred to you--in a moment say of great danger when the mind was agitated to the last degree by fears and anxieties--suddenly to become perfectly calm and collected, to realize that nothing can harm you, that you are identified with some great and universal being lifted far over this mortal world and unaffected by its storms? is it not obvious that the real self must be something of this nature, a being perceiving all, but itself remaining unperceived? for indeed if it were perceived it would fall under the head of some definable quality, and so becoming the object of thought would cease to be the subject, would cease to be the self. the witness is and must be "free from qualities." for since it is capable of perceiving all qualities it must obviously not be itself imprisoned or tied in any quality--it must either be entirely without quality, or if it have the potentiality of quality in it, it must have the potentiality of every quality; but in either case it cannot be in bondage to any quality, and in either case it would appear that there can be only one such ultimate witness in the universe. for if there were two or more such witnesses, then we should be compelled to suppose them distinguished from one another by something, and that something could only be a difference of qualities, which would be contrary to our conclusion that such a witness cannot be in bondage to any quality. there is then i take it--as the text in question says--only one witness, one self, throughout the universe. it is hidden in all living things, men and animals and plants; it pervades all creation. in every thing that has consciousness it is the self; it watches over all operations, it overshadows all creatures, it moves in the depths of our hearts, the perceiver, the only being that is cognizant of all and yet free from all. once you really appropriate this truth, and assimilate it in the depths of your mind, a vast change (you can easily imagine) will take place within you. the whole world will be transformed, and every thought and act of which you are capable will take on a different color and complexion. indeed the revolution will be so vast that it would be quite impossible for me within the limits of this discourse to describe it. i will, however, occupy the rest of my time in dealing with some points and conclusions, and some mental changes which will flow perfectly naturally from this axiomatic change taking place at the very root of life. "free from qualities." we generally pride ourselves a little on our qualities. some of us think a great deal of our good qualities, and some of us are rather ashamed of our bad ones! i would say: "do not trouble very much about all that. what good qualities you have--well you may be quite sure they do not really amount to much; and what bad qualities, you may be sure they are not very important! do not make too much fuss about either. do you see? the thing is that you, you yourself, are not any of your qualities--you are the being that perceives them. the thing to see to is that they should not confuse you, bamboozle you, and hide you from the knowledge of yourself--that they should not be erected into a screen, to hide you from others, or the others from you. if you cease from running after qualities, then after a little time your soul will become purified, and you will know that your self is the self of all creatures; and when you can feel that you will know that the other things do not much matter. sometimes people are so awfully good that their very goodness hides them from other people. they really cannot be on a level with others, and they feel that the others are far below them. consequently their 'selves' are blinded or hidden by their 'goodness.' it is a sad end to come to! and sometimes it happens that very 'bad' people--just because they are so bad--do not erect any screens or veils between themselves and others. indeed they are only too glad if others will recognize them, or if they may be allowed to recognize others. and so, after all, they come nearer the truth than the very good people. "the self is free from qualities." that thing which is so deep, which belongs to all, it either--as i have already said--has all qualities, or it has none. you, to whom i am speaking now, your qualities, good and bad, are all mine. i am perfectly willing to accept them. they are all right enough and in place--if one can only find the places for them. but i know that in most cases they have got so confused and mixed up that they cause great conflict and pain in the souls that harbor them. if you attain to knowing yourself to be other than and separate from the qualities, then you will pass below and beyond them all. you will be able to accept all your qualities and harmonize them, and your soul will be at peace. you will be free from the domination of qualities then because you will know that among all the multitudes of them there are none of any importance! if you should happen some day to reach that state of mind in connection with which this revelation comes, then you will find the experience a most extraordinary one. you will become conscious that there is no barrier in your path; that the way is open in all directions; that all men and women belong to you, are part of you. you will feel that there is a great open immense world around, which you had never suspected before, which belongs to you, and the riches of which are all yours, waiting for you. it may, of course, take centuries and thousands of years to realize this thoroughly, but there it is. you are just at the threshold, peeping in at the door. what did shakespeare say? "to thine own self be true, and it must follow as the night the day, thou can'st not then be false to any man." what a profound bit of philosophy in three lines! i doubt if anywhere the basis of all human life has been expressed more perfectly and tersely. one of the upanishads (the maitrayana-brahmana) says: "the happiness belonging to a mind, which through deep inwardness ( ) (or understanding) has been washed clean and has entered into the self, is a thing beyond the power of words to describe: it can only be perceived by an inner faculty." observe the conviction, the intensity with which this joy, this happiness is described, which comes to those whose minds have been washed clean (from all the silly trumpery sediment of self-thought) and have become transparent, so that the great universal being residing there in the depths can be perceived. what sorrow indeed, what, grief, can come to such an one who has seen this vision? it is truly a thing beyond the power of words to describe: it can only be perceived--and that by an inner faculty. the external apparatus of thought is of no use. argument is of no use. but experience and direct perception are possible; and probably all the experiences of life and of mankind through the ages are gradually deepening our powers of perception to that point where the vision will at last rise upon the inward eye. ( ) the word in the max muller translation is "meditation." but that is, i think, a somewhat misleading word. it suggests to most people the turning inward of the thinking faculty to grope and delve in the interior of the mind. this is just what should not be done. meditation in the proper sense should mean the inward deepening of feeling and consciousness till the region of the universal self is reached; but thought should not interfere there. that should be turned on outward things to mould them into expression of the inner consciousness. another text, from the brihad-aranyaka upanishad (which i have already quoted in the paper on "rest"), says: "if a man worship the self only as his true state, his work cannot fail, for whatever he desires, that he obtains from the self." is that not magnificent? if you truly realize your identity and union with the great self who inspires and informs the world, then obviously whatever you desire the great self win desire, and the whole world will conspire to bring it to you. "he maketh the winds his angels, and the flaming fires his ministers." (i need not say that i am not asking you to try and identify yourself with the great self universal in order to get riches, "opulence," and other things of that kind which you desire; because in that quest you will probably not succeed. the great self is not such a fool as to be taken in in that way. it may be true--and it is true--that if ye seek first the kingdom of heaven all these things shall be added unto you; but you must seek it first, not second.) here is a passage from towards democracy: "as space spreads everywhere, and all things move and change within it, but it moves not nor changes, "so i am the space within the soul, of which the space without is but the similitude and mental image; "comest thou to inhabit me, thou hast the entrance to all life--death shall no longer divide thee from whom thou lovest. "i am the sun that shines upon all creatures from within--gazest thou upon me, thou shalt be filled with joy eternal." yes, this great sun is there, always shining, but most of the time it is hidden from us by the clouds of which i have spoken, and we fail to see it. we complain of being out in the cold; and in the cold, for the time being, no doubt we are; but our return to the warmth and the light has now become possible. thus at last the ego, the mortal immortal self--disclosed at first in darkness and fear and ignorance in the growing babe--finds its true identity. for a long period it is baffled in trying to understand what it is. it goes through a vast experience. it is tormented by the sense of separation and alienation--alienation from other people, and persecution by all the great powers and forces of the universe; and it is pursued by a sense of its own doom. its doom truly is irrevocable. the hour of fulfilment approaches, the veil lifts, and the soul beholds at last its own true being. we are accustomed to think of the external world around us as a nasty tiresome old thing of which all we can say for certain is that it works by a "law of cussedness"--so that, whichever way we want to go, that way seems always barred, and we only bump against blind walls without making any progress. but that uncomfortable state of affairs arises from ourselves. once we have passed a certain barrier, which at present looks so frowning and impossible, but which fades into nothing immediately we have passed it--once we have found the open secret of identity--then the way is indeed open in every direction. the world in which we live--the world into which we are tumbled as children at the first onset of self-consciousness--denies this great fact of unity. it is a world in which the principle of separation rules. instead of a common life and union with each other, the contrary principle (especially in the later civilizations) has been the one recognized--and to such an extent that always there prevails the obsession of separation, and the conviction that each person is an isolated unit. the whole of our modern society has been founded on this delusive idea, which is false. you go into the markets, and every man's hand is against the others--that is the ruling principle. you go into the law courts where justice is, or should be, administered, and you find that the principle which denies unity is the one that prevails. the criminal (whose actions have really been determined by the society around him) is cast out, disacknowledged, and condemned to further isolation in a prison cell. 'property' again is the principle which rules and determines our modern civilization--namely that which is proper to, or can be appropriated by, each person, as against the others. in the moral world the doom of separation comes to us in the shape of the sense of sin. for sin is separation. sin is actually (and that is its only real meaning) the separation from others, and the non-acknowledgment of unity. and so it has come about that during all this civilization-period the sense of sin has ruled and ranged to such an extraordinary degree. society has been built on a false base, not true to fact or life--and has had a dim uneasy consciousness of its falseness. meanwhile at the heart of it all--and within all the frantic external strife and warfare--there is all the time this real great life brooding. the kingdom of heaven, as we said before, is still within. the word democracy indicates something of the kind--the rule of the demos, that is of the common life. the coming of that will transform, not only our markets and our law courts and our sense of property, and other institutions, into something really great and glorious instead of the dismal masses of rubbish which they at present are; but it will transform our sense of morality. our morality at present consists in the idea of self-goodness--one of the most pernicious and disgusting ideas which has ever infested the human brain. if any one should follow and assimilate what i have just said about the true nature of the self he will realize that it will never again be possible for him to congratulate himself on his own goodness or morality or superiority; for the moment he does so he will separate himself from the universal life, and proclaim the sin of his own separation. i agree that this conclusion is for some people a most sad and disheartening one--but it cannot be helped! a man may truly be 'good' and 'moral' in some real sense; but only on the condition that he is not aware of it. he can only be good when not thinking about the matter; to be conscious of one's own goodness is already to have fallen! we began by thinking of the self as just a little local self; then we extended it to the family, the cause, the nation--ever to a larger and vaster being. at last there comes a time when we recognize--or see that we shall have to recognize--an inner equality between ourselves and all others; not of course an external equality--for that would be absurd and impossible--but an inner and profound and universal equality. and so we come again to the mystic root-conception of democracy. and now it will be said: "but after all this talk you have not defined the self, or given us any intellectual outline of what you mean by the word." no--and i do not intend to. if i could, by any sort of copybook definition, describe and show the boundaries of myself, i should obviously lose all interest in the subject. nothing more dull could be imagined. i may be able to define and describe fairly exhaustively this inkpot on the table; but for you or for me to give the limits and boundaries of ourselves is, i am glad to say, impossible. that does not, however, mean that we cannot feel and be conscious of ourselves, and of our relations to other selves, and to the great whole. on the contrary i think it is clear that the more vividly we feel our organic unity with the whole, the less shall we be able to separate off the local self and enclose it within any definition. i take it that we can and do become ever more vividly conscious of our true self, but that the mental statement of it always does and probably always will lie beyond us. all life and all our action and experience consist in the gradual manifestation of that which is within us--of our inner being. in that sense--and reading its handwriting on the outer world--we come to know the soul's true nature more and more intimately; we enter into the mind of that great artist who beholds himself in his own creation. generously made available by the internet archive.) told to the children series edited by louey chisholm the faerie queen [illustration: i should like the crystal ball to shew me what my husband will be like (page )] stories from the faerie queen told to the children by jeanie lang with pictures by rose le quesne [illustration] london: t. c. & e. c. jack, ltd. new york: e. p. dutton & co. to diana printed in great britain by thomas nelson and sons, ltd. about the faerie queen more than three hundred years ago there lived in england a poet named edmund spenser. he was brave and true and gentle, and he loved all that was beautiful and good. edmund spenser wrote many poems, and the most beautiful of all is the one called 'the faerie queen.' he loved so dearly all things that are beautiful and all things that are good, that his eyes could see fairyland more clearly than the eyes of other men ever could. there are many, many stories in 'the faerie queen,' and out of them all i have told you only eight. some day you will read the others for yourself. in this little book miss rose le quesne has made one pretty picture for each story. but when you are old enough to read for yourself 'the faerie queen' that edmund spenser wrote, you will find that there is a picture on every page. jeanie lang. list of stories page una and the lion, st. george and the dragon, britomart and the magic mirror, the quest of sir guyon, pastorella, cambell and triamond, marinell, the sea-nymph's son, florimell and the witch, list of pictures britomart and the magic mirror. 'i should like the crystal ball to show me what my husband will be like, _frontispiece_ at page una and the lion. he followed her like a faithful dog, st. george and the dragon. the dragon was dead, the quest of sir guyon. great heaps of gold lay about him on every side, pastorella. in the middle of the ring of girls sat pastorella, cambell and triamond. she asked the fates to let her sons have long, long lives, marinell, the sea-nymph's son. but the knight was britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a man's heart, florimell and the witch. florimell's golden hair flew behind her, i una and the lion once upon a time, in a country not far from fairyland, there lived a king and queen and their daughter, whose name was una. una was one of the most beautiful princesses that ever were seen, and she was as good as she was beautiful. she and her father and mother loved each other very dearly, and they were very happy together, until a dreadful thing happened in their kingdom and took all their happiness away. a hideous dragon came from another country, and killed men and women and little children. with its fiery breath it turned the trees and grass and flowers into black ashes, and it slew everybody that it came across. it would have killed una's father and mother too, but they and some of their servants shut themselves up in a tower made of brass. the dragon tried very hard to get in and eat them up, but it could not break into a tower so strong. for seven years the king and queen hid in their tower, while the dragon lay outside. many brave knights came and fought with the horrible monster and tried to save the king and queen. but the dragon was stronger than all the knights, and killed every one of them. at last una made up her mind to ride to fairyland and ask the queen of the fairies to send one of her knights to kill the dragon. una took no soldiers nor servants with her, but a dwarf carried for her the food and clothes she needed, and she rode on a little white ass. her dress was of white, but she covered it and her beautiful, shining, golden hair up with a black cloak to show that she felt sad. her lovely face was very sorrowful, for she was so unhappy at the cruel things the dragon had done, and the danger her dear father and mother were in. una safely got to the court of the faerie queen, and a young knight, fearless and faithful and true, offered to come back with her to kill the dragon. his name was george, but on the breast of his silver armour, and on his silver shield, a red cross was painted. so people called him the red cross knight. the sun shone bright, and the birds sang sweetly, as una and her knight rode away through the woods that lay between her father's kingdom and the lands of the faerie queen. the knight's great war-horse pranced and champed at its bit, and una's little donkey put down its dainty feet gently on the grass and wondered at the great big horse and his jingling harness as they went along side by side. before they had gone very far a storm came on. the sky grew dark and rain fell heavily, and they would have been drenched had they not found shelter in a thick wood. there were wide paths in this wood, and tall trees whose leafy branches grew so close that no rain could come through. it was such a beautiful wood, and they were so happy talking together and listening to the birds' sweet song, that they rode along without noticing where they went. so when the rain stopped and they wished to get back to the open road, they could not find the way. on and on they went, until they came to the mouth of a great dark cave. the knight sprang from his horse, and giving his spear to the dwarf to hold, went forward to see what might be hidden in the darkness. 'do not be so rash!' cried una; 'i know that this is a terribly dangerous place, and that a dreadful monster stays in that black den!' the frightened dwarf also begged him to come away, but the knight said, 'i should be ashamed to come back. if one is good, one need have no fear of the darkness.' so into the darkness he went, and in the faint light that came from his shining armour he saw a hideous monster. it had a great ugly head and a long speckled tail like a serpent's, and it rushed at the knight, roaring furiously. he struck at it with his sword, but it wound its horrible tail around him, until he was nearly crushed to death. una called to him not to fear, but to strike the monster bravely. and he, smiting it with all his might, cut off its head. then una and he rode joyfully onwards, and, as evening fell, they found a way out of the wood. on the road they met an old man who looked kind and good. he asked them to stay all night in his cottage in a little valley near at hand, and they gladly went. this old man was a wicked magician, and all he wanted was to do them harm. when they had lain down to rest, he began to work his magic on them. so well did he do it, that he made the red cross knight believe that una was very false and wicked, and that the best thing he could do was to go away from her. very early in the morning the knight made the dwarf saddle his horse, and they went off together and left una asleep in the house of the wicked magician. when she awoke and found them gone, una could only weep bitterly at what seemed to her their cruelty. she rode after them as quickly as she could, but her little donkey could only go slowly, and in his anger and sorrow the knight had made his horse gallop so fast that she had no chance of overtaking them. day after day, up hill and down dale, in woods and on lonely moors, she sought her knight. and her heart was very sad, because he whom she loved had left her so ungently. one day when she was very tired she lay down to rest under the trees in a thick wood. she took off her black cloak, and her beautiful golden hair fell loosely round her face. her face was so fair and so full of goodness that it seemed to make sunshine in the shady place. suddenly there rushed at her from out of the wood a furious lion. he was hunting for something to kill and eat, and when he saw una he ran at her greedily, with hungry gaping jaws. but when it had looked at her lovely face, instead of tearing her in pieces it gently licked her little white hands and feet. and una's sad heart was so grateful to the noble beast that her tears dropped on him as he did it. the lion would not leave her. he kept watch while she slept, and when she was awake he followed her like a faithful dog. [illustration: he followed her like a faithful dog (page )] together they wandered on, but never met any one that una could ask if he had seen the red cross knight. at last, one evening, they saw a young woman walking up a steep mountain path, and carrying a pot of water on her back. una called to her, but when the woman looked round and saw a lovely lady and a lion, she got such a fright that she threw down the pot and ran for her life. her old mother was blind, and they lived in a hut on the mountain, and when she got there she rushed in and shut the door. una and the lion followed her, and the lion, with one blow from his strong paw, drove the door in. the two women were hiding in a dark corner, half-dead from fear. una tried to comfort them, and asked them if she and her lion might shelter there for the night. when darkness came she lay down, very tired, to sleep, while her lion lay and watched at her feet. in the middle of the night a knock came to the door. it was a wicked robber, who used to bring the things he stole and give them to those two bad women. the women were so afraid of the lion that they dared not come out of their hiding-place. so the thief, in a rage, burst the door open, and when he did this, the lion rushed at him and tore him in pieces. next morning una rose early and went away with the lion. when she had gone, the women came out, and when they saw the robber's dead body, they were filled with rage at una and her lion. they ran after her, calling her bad names, but they could not overtake her. as they were going home they met the wicked magician. they told him about una, and he rode quickly after her. by his magic he made himself armour the same as that of the red cross knight, and when una saw him she thought it was her own true knight come back to her at last. he spoke to her as if he was really her knight, and her heart was filled with gladness. but she was not the only one who thought that the wicked magician was the red cross knight. sansloy, a rough and wicked man, whose brother had been killed in a fight with the knight of the red cross, came riding along and met them. when he saw the red cross on the magician's breast he rode at him furiously. the old magician had to fight, whether he wanted to or not, and sansloy fought so fiercely that he wounded him and cast him bleeding on the ground. then sansloy dragged off his helmet and was going to kill him, when he found, instead of the red cross knight's handsome young face, the wicked old face and grey hair of the magician. sansloy was afraid of the magician, so he drew back and did not hurt him more. but when he saw how beautiful una was, he roughly dragged her off her ass, and made up his mind to take her away with him and make her his wife. when the lion saw the knight roughly take hold of una, he made a fierce rush at him, and would have torn him in pieces; but sansloy beat the lion back with his shield, and when the lion would have torn the shield from him, he drove his sword deep into the lion's faithful heart. with a great roar the noble beast fell dead, and sansloy threw una before him on his horse and galloped away with her. she wept and sobbed and begged him to let her go, but sansloy would not listen. and it seemed as if una had no friend left, or, at least, no friend that could help her. for the little white donkey trotted after her, afraid of nothing except to be left alone without his mistress. the darkness fell, and the stars that came out looked down like weeping eyes on una's sorrow and helplessness. sansloy stopped his horse at last and lifted una down. when she shrank from him in fear, he was so rough that she screamed for help until the woods rang and echoed her screams. now in the woods there lived wild people, some of whom were more like beasts than men and women. they were dancing merrily in the starlight when they heard una's cries, and they stopped their dance and ran to see what was wrong. when sansloy saw them, with their rough long hair and hairy legs and arms and strange wild faces, he was so frightened that he jumped on his horse and galloped away. but the wild people of the woods were more gentle than the cowardly knight. when they saw una, so beautiful and so frightened and so sad, they smiled at her to show her that they meant to be kind. then they knelt before her to show her that they would obey her, and gently kissed her feet. so una was no longer afraid, and when the wild people saw that she trusted them, they were so glad that they jumped and danced and sang for joy. they broke off green branches and strewed them before her as she walked, and they crowned her with leaves to show that she was their queen. and so they led her home to their chief, and he and the beautiful nymphs of the wood all welcomed her with gladness. for a long time una lived with them and was their queen, but at last a brave knight came that way. his father had been a wild man of the woods, but his mother was a gentle lady. he was brave and bold as his father had been. when he was a little boy and lived with the wild people, he used to steal the baby lions from their mothers just for fun, and drive panthers, and antelopes, and wild boars, and tigers and wolves with bits and bridles, as if they were playing at horses. but he was gentle like his mother, although he was so fearless. and when una told him the story of the red cross knight and the lion, and of all her adventures, his heart was filled with pity. he vowed to help her to escape, and to try to find the red cross knight. so one day he and she ran away, and by night had got far out of reach of the wild men of the woods. when the wicked magician knew of una's escape, he dressed himself up like a pilgrim and came to meet her and the brave knight of the forest. 'have you seen, or have you heard anything about my true knight, who bears a red cross on his breast?' asked una of the old man. 'ah yes,' said the magician, 'i have seen him both living and dead. to-day i saw a terrible fight between him and another knight, and the other knight killed him.' when una heard this cruel lie she fell down in a faint. the brave young knight lifted her up and gently tried to comfort her. 'where is this man who has slain the red cross knight, and taken from us all our joy?' he asked of the false pilgrim. 'he is near here now,' said the magician. 'i left him at a fountain, washing his wounds.' off hurried the knight, so fast that una could not keep up with him, and sure enough, at a fountain they found a knight sitting. it was the wicked sansloy who had killed una's lion and carried her away. the brave knight rushed up to him with his drawn sword. 'you have slain the red cross knight,' he said; 'come and fight and be punished for your evil deed.' 'i never slew the red cross knight,' said sansloy, in a great rage. 'your enemies have sent you to me to be killed.' then, like two wild beasts, they fought, only resting sometimes for a moment that they might rush at each other again with the more strength and fury. blood poured from their wounds, the earth was trampled by their feet, and the sound of their fierce blows rang through the air. una was so terrified at the dreadful sight that she ran away and left them fighting furiously. before she had gone far she saw a little figure running through the woods towards her. it was her own dwarf, and his woful face told her that some evil thing had happened to the red cross knight. the knight had had many adventures since he left her in the magician's hut, and at last a giant had caught him, and kept him a prisoner in a dreary dungeon. the dwarf had run away, lest the giant should kill him. una loved the red cross knight so much that her heart almost broke when she heard the dwarf's story. but she made up her mind to find her knight and free him. so on she went, up hill and down dale, beaten by driving rain and buffeted by bitter winds. at last, by good chance, she met a knight and his squire. this knight was the good prince arthur, of all the knights of the faerie queen the bravest and the best. to him she told her sorrowful tale. 'be of good cheer and take comfort,' said the good prince. 'i will never leave you until i have freed the red cross knight.' and the prince kept his promise. the story of st. george and the dragon will tell you how una and her knight met together again and were married, and forgot their past sorrows in their great happiness. ii st. george and the dragon long, long ago, before the things that happened were written down in history books, a spiteful fairy came into the castle of an english king. she saw a beautiful baby-boy, the king's little son, lying asleep, and, out of mischief, she ran away with him and left her own ugly little fairy baby there instead. but when she had stolen the baby, she could not be troubled to take care of him. so she laid him down in the furrow of a ploughed field. soon a ploughman, with his horses, came that way. he was a kind man, and he lifted the baby up off the cold brown earth and carried him home to his cottage. he called him georgos, and brought him up as if he were his own boy. when georgos was a big boy he did not care to be a ploughman. he wished to be a knight and fight for people who were not as strong as he was. so he went to the court of the faerie queen, and she took him for one of her knights. she called him george, and gave him armour all shining with silver and with a red cross on his shield and on his breast. you have heard the story of una, so you know that it was george of the red cross who left the fairy court to fight for her and to be her knight. there was no sadder knight to be found in all fairyland than george of the red cross, after the wicked magician had made him think that una was false and bad. with a heavy heart he rode away from the magician's cottage in the grey dawn, with the dwarf sadly following him. as he went through the woods he met a knight riding with a beautiful lady in red robes that sparkled with jewels. the lady's horse was all decked out with gold, and from its bridle hung golden bells. although she was so beautiful, she was really a wicked witch, who was never so happy as when she was making men fight and kill each other. when she saw george coming, she said to the knight with whom she rode, 'here comes a knight! you must fight with him.' so the knight rode furiously at george, and george met him as fiercely, and both their spears splintered as they crashed against each other. then, with their swords they cut and thrust and hacked. the knight cut through a piece of george's helmet by the fury of one blow, but george gave him such a stroke in return, that his sword went through the steel helmet right into the knight's head, and he fell dead. when the witch saw him fall, she galloped away, screaming with fear. george rode after her and begged her not to be afraid, but the witch pretended to cry bitterly. she told him she did not cry for sorrow that the knight was dead, but only because she was frightened. she said that the knight who lay there had wished to marry her, but that she did not love him, and liked george much better. the witch looked so beautiful, with her red robes and splendid jewels, and pretended so well to be simple and good, that george believed all that she said. 'do not be afraid,' he said, 'i will take care of you, and be your friend.' so he did not think of una any more, but rode away happily with the witch, who said her name was fidessa. in the middle of the day, when the sun had grown very hot, they rested in the shade of two great trees. the spreading branches of the trees were overgrown with grey moss, and their green leaves were never still, but whispered and trembled as if the wind was blowing on them. george thought he would make a garland of these fresh leaves to put on fidessa's dark hair. he plucked a little branch, and, as he broke it, red drops of blood trickled down from the place where it was broken. then a sad voice spoke out of the tree, and told him that the trees were not really trees, but a knight and a lady, who had been bewitched by the magic of a wicked witch. the witch who had done it was fidessa, and when fidessa heard the tree speak, she was afraid that george would find her out. but george was too simple and too true to think that beautiful fidessa could be so wicked. he was very sorry for having hurt the tree-man, and with some earth plastered up the place that bled. then he and fidessa hurried away from the place of the shivering trees. when they had ridden for a long time they came to a gorgeous palace where only bad people stayed. fidessa made george come with her into the palace, and while they stayed there she got some of the wicked knights of the palace to fight with george and try to kill him. but george was braver and stronger than any of these knights, and instead of their killing him, he killed them. one day fidessa went from home, and, while she was away, una's dwarf, who had never left george, went wandering through the palace. in a dark and horrible dungeon he found many knights, and kings, and ladies and princes shut up as prisoners. the dwarf ran and told george, and the red cross knight, fearing that he also would be made a prisoner and cast into the dungeon if he stayed longer in the enchanted palace, rode away. the wounds he had got in his last fight were still unhealed, so that he could not go fast. when fidessa got back and found him gone, she rode after him as fast as ever she could. when she found him he was resting, with his armour off, on the mossy grass by the side of a sparkling fountain. he was peacefully listening to the sweet song of birds, and to the tinkling water, when fidessa's red robes showed through the trees. she talked to him so cunningly that soon she persuaded him to think that she loved him very much and meant him nothing but kindness. now the witch knew that the water of the fountain was magic water, and if any one drank it all his strength would leave him. so she made george lie down on the sandy gravel and drink. in one minute his strength all went from him and he was no stronger than a tiny boy. no sooner had this happened than there walked out from amongst the trees an enormous ugly giant. in his hand, for a club, he carried a big oak-tree that he had pulled out of the earth by the roots. when he saw george he rushed at him like an earthquake, and smote him such a mighty blow that george fell fainting to the ground. then the giant picked him up as if he had been a helpless little baby, and carried him away, and threw him into the darkest dungeon of his castle in the woods. una's dwarf, who had hidden in the bushes and seen all that happened, ran away, lest the giant should kill him. but fidessa, the wicked witch, made friends with the giant, and he made her his wife. he gave her a robe of purple and gold to wear, and put a splendid gold crown on her head. and to make people more afraid of her than they were already, he gave her a horrible beast with seven heads and a long scaly tail of brass to ride on. for months and months george was a prisoner in the gloomy dungeon. the light never came into it, nor any air. he was chained with heavy iron bands, and was given scarcely anything to eat or to drink. his face grew white and thin, and his eyes grew hollow. his strong arms became only skin and bone, and his legs were so feeble that he could not stand. he looked more like a shadow than a man. one day, as he lay on the floor of the dungeon, feebly moaning and longing to die, the door burst open. a knight in shining armour of diamonds and gold stood before him, and before george could speak to him, there ran into the dreary cell, like a sunbeam in the dark, his own beautiful una. una nearly cried for joy at seeing her knight again, and for sorrow because he looked so terribly ill. she told him that prince arthur, the knight who had saved him, had cut off the giant's head, and slain the seven-headed monster, and made fidessa prisoner. then prince arthur tore off fidessa's robe of purple and gold, and her golden crown and all her sparkling jewels. and all her beauty faded away, and she looked like the hideous, wicked old witch that she really was. george shrank away from her in horror, and wondered how she could ever have made him forget una, or have made him think that she herself was good and beautiful. and fidessa, frightened at being found out, ran away and hid herself in a dark cave in the lonely desert. then una took george, who was now no stronger than a little child who has been ill, to an old house not far away from the giant's castle. it was called the house of holiness. there lived there a good old lady and her three good and beautiful daughters, and they helped una to nurse george until he grew strong again. and as he grew stronger, from the rest and their care and the dainty food they gave him, those ladies of the house of holiness taught the young knight many things. he learned to be more gentle than he had been before, and never to be proud nor boastful, and to love nothing that was not wholly good. he learned, too, not to hate any one, nor to be angry or revengeful, and always to be as generous and as merciful as he was brave. when he was quite strong once more, he went from the house of holiness to a place where an old hermit stayed, and from him george learned still more of what was good. george had always thought that he was a fairy's son, but the hermit told him the story of how the bad fairy had stolen him from his father's castle when he was a baby. and although george loved his faerie queen and the fairy knights and ladies, he was glad to think that he was the son of an english king. the old man told him that if, all through his life, he was true, and brave, and merciful and good, one day he should be called a saint. and he would be the saint who belonged especially to all englishmen and englishwomen, and to english boys and girls. '_saint george shalt thou callèd be, saint george of merry england, the sign of victory._' then did george, his shining armour with its red crosses, and his sharp sword and glittering spear buckled on again, ride away once more with una, to kill the dragon and set free the king and queen. it was a dreary country that they rode through, for the dragon had laid it all waste, but from far away they saw the tower of brass shining in the sun. as they drew nearer they saw a watchman on the top of the tower gazing across the plain. day after day for a long, long time he had looked for una to come back with a knight to slay the dragon. when he saw una and george crossing the plain, he ran and told the king and queen, and the old king climbed up to the top of the tower to see for himself that the good news was true. as they drew near the tower, george and una heard a hideous roaring sound. it filled all the air and shook the ground like an earthquake. it came from the dragon, that was stretched out in the sun on the side of a hill. when it saw the knight in gleaming armour riding towards it, it roused itself joyfully up to come and kill him, as it had killed all the other knights. george made una go to a high piece of ground, from whence she could see the fight, and where she would be out of danger, and then rode to meet the terrible beast. half running and half flying, with its great ugly wings, the dragon came swiftly towards him. it was so big that its shadow looked like the dark shadow of a mountain on a valley. its body was monstrous and horrible and vast, and was all swelled out with rage. it had scales all over it that shone like brass, and that were as strong as steel. its wings were like big sails, and when it flapped them and clashed its scales, the sound was like the sound of a great army fighting. its long tail was spotted red and black, and at the end of it two sharp stings stuck out. it had cruel long claws, and its gaping jaws had each three rows of iron teeth, all stained and wet with the blood of the people it had eaten last. it had eyes like flames, and its breath was fire and smoke. when it rushed at george, george rode hard at it with his spear. but no spear was ever made that was strong enough to pierce that dragon's scales. the spear glanced off from its ugly, speckled breast, but the dragon, furious at the hard thrust that george had given him, lashed out with its tail so furiously that both the horse and his rider were thrown to the ground. lightly they rose up again, and again george smote with his spear. then the dragon, spreading its wings, rose from the ground like a giant bird, and seizing george and his horse in its claws, flew away with them. right across the plain it flew, then, finding them heavy, it dropped them on the ground. as it did this, george thrust with his spear under the dragon's stretched-out wing, and made a great gaping wound. the spear broke, but the spear-head stuck in the wound, until the dragon, mad with rage and pain, plucked it out with its teeth. then did fire and smoke rush out more terribly than before from the jaws of the furious dragon. it lashed its long tail so savagely that it folded in its coils george's foaming horse. the frantic horse, in its struggles to get free, threw george on the ground amongst the horrible blood. but george sprang to his feet, and with his sharp sword struck again and again at the dragon's head. the sword could not pierce it, but the dragon, annoyed at george's fierce attack, thought it would fly out of his reach. but when it tried, the wound george had made in its wing prevented it. then its rage at george grew fifty times more furious. it roared till the whole land shook, and it sent out from its inside such blazing flames that george's face was scorched and his armour grew so hot that it burned into his flesh. george was so tired and so faint and sore, that when he was burned as well, he feared that the end had come. the dragon saw his faintness, and smiting him a tremendous blow with its great tail, it threw him down, and george fell backwards into a pool of water. now this pool of water was a magic spring. when george fell into it, all his faintness and weariness vanished. una, who feared he was dead, saw him spring out of the water even fresher and stronger than he had been at the beginning of the fight. the dragon could not believe its eyes, and thought that george must be a new knight who had come to fight it. before it had got over its surprise, george struck its head so fiercely with his sword, which still dripped from the magic water, that he made a great wound. the dragon, roaring like a hundred lions, struck at george with the stings on the end of its tail. one of them went right through george's shield, and through his armour, and firmly stuck in his shoulder. though george was faint with the pain it caused, he hit the dragon's tail such a blow that he hewed off five joints and left only the ugly stump. mad with rage, the dragon, belching out smoke and fire, and giving fearful cries, seized george's silver shield in its claws and tried to drag it from him. again and again, and yet again, george struck at it with his sword. at last he hit the joint and cut the paw clean off. even then, so tight was the grip that the claws had got, that it still hung bleeding from the shield. then was the dragon's rage so frightful, that the flames and smoke from its mouth were like the flames and smoke that pour out of a burning mountain. all the sky was darkened, and as george shrank back in horror from the burning, choking, smelling darkness, his foot slipped in the mire, and he fell. now there grew in that land a magic tree, all hung with fruit and rosy apples. from the trunk of the tree there flowed a little stream of sweet balm that could cure even deadly wounds and make weak people strong. the dragon was afraid of this tree and its magic stream, and dared not go near it. all night george lay as if he were dead, and una, on the hillside, waited with a heavy heart for morning to come. he lay so close to the magic tree that the dragon dared not come near him, but it thought that he must have died of his wounds. when the black night had rolled away and daylight spread over the land, george arose from his sleep. his wounds were all healed by the magic balm, and he was stronger than before. when the dragon rushed at him with its great fierce mouth gaping wide, george thrust his sword down its throat and wounded it so terribly that it rolled over like a huge mountain in an earthquake. the ground shook as it fell, and the last breaths that it drew stained the beautiful morning sky, like smoke from a furnace. at first it seemed to una too good to be true that the dragon was dead. but when the last of the black smoke had cleared away, and the monster lay quite still, she knew that george had won the fight and slain the dragon. the watchman on the brazen tower had also seen the dragon fall, and so the king had the gates of brass, that had been closed for so long, thrown wide open. with sounds of trumpets and shouts of joy the king and queen and their people came out to greet george and una, and to thank george, who had saved them and their land from the horrible dragon. the people crowded round the dead body of the monster. the children wished to look at it closely, and when a bold little boy took hold of its claws, his mother screamed with fright, and dragged him back. so long had they been in terror of their savage enemy, that even when it lay dead they still feared that it might do them some harm. [illustration: the dragon was dead (page )] there never was a happier wedding than the wedding of una and george, the red cross knight, nor was there ever any bride more beautiful than una. her dress was spotless, like a white lily. it was not made of silver nor silk, yet like silver and silk it shone and glistened. her golden hair hung round her happy face, and her face was like the freshest flower of may. fairy music rang through the air, and there was nothing but happiness in the land on the day that una wedded brave george of merry england. iii britomart and the magic mirror long years ago there lived a beautiful princess whose name was britomart. when she was a little girl she did not care to play with dolls nor to sew, but she loved to ride and to play boys' games. and when she grew older she learned to fight with spears and swords like the knights at her father's court. now a great magician called merlin had once given a wonderful gift to the king, britomart's father. it was a magic mirror, that looked like a ball of the clearest crystal. when the king looked in this mirror he saw all that was going to happen to him, and which of his friends were false and which true. there was no hidden secret which that crystal ball could not tell. one day britomart went into her father's room and looked into his magic mirror. 'what shall i wish to see?' she asked of herself. then she thought, 'some day i shall marry. i should like the crystal ball to show me what my husband will be like.' even as she thought this, she saw, like a moving picture, a knight riding across the crystal. he was tall and broad and strong, and looked very brave. the front of his shining helmet was drawn up, and from under it looked out the handsome face that his friends loved and his foes feared. he wore beautiful armour, all inlaid with gold, and she knew what his name was, and that he had won this armour in a fight with another great knight, for on it was written: '_achilles' armes which artegall did win._' from that day britomart could think of nothing but the knight whose picture had ridden across the mirror and vanished away. she grew thoughtful and sad, and could not sleep, for she feared it was a dreadful thing to love a shadow. her old nurse slept in her room, and at night when she heard britomart tossing about in bed and softly crying to herself, the old woman was very unhappy. night after night she heard her, till she could bear it no longer. she asked britomart what was wrong, and britomart sobbingly told her. then the good old nurse comforted britomart. she said she was sure that artegall must be a real man, and not just a shadow, and that she would find him. then she tucked the bedclothes round britomart, and put out the flickering lamp. when britomart, much comforted, had fallen quietly asleep, her nurse sat and watched beside her, and dropped some tears because britomart was no longer a little baby-girl for her to take care of, but a grown-up girl who loved a knight. next day the old nurse went to the woods and gathered all sorts of herbs. she boiled them down together, and mixed them with milk and other things, and put them in an earthen pot. round the pot she bound three of her hairs plaited together. then she said a charm over the pot, and made britomart turn round and round and round about it. she thought that this charm would cure britomart of loving the knight, and make her gay and happy again. but the old nurse's charm was no good. britomart grew thin and sad and ill. then the old woman thought of merlin, the magician who had made the mirror. 'it is all his fault that my princess is so sad,' she said; 'he must make her happy again.' so she dressed britomart and herself in shabby old clothes, and went to seek merlin. the magician lived in a dark cave under a rock. the rock lay near a swift-rushing river that ran down between thickly wooded hills. hollow, fearful sounds, and a clanking, as of chains, were always heard there. when britomart and her nurse reached the lonely cave, and heard the noise of moans and groans and clanking chains, they were too frightened at first to go in. but at length they plucked up courage and entered the cave, and found merlin writing magic words on the dark floor. he knew very well, although they wore shabby old clothes, that his visitors were the princess britomart and the princess's nurse. but he pretended that he did not know them, and asked them what they wanted. 'three moons have come and gone,' said the nurse, 'since this fair maid first turned ill. i do not know what ails her, but if you cannot cure her, she will die.' merlin smiled. 'if that is all you want,' he said, 'you had better take her to a doctor.' 'if any doctor could have done her good,' said the nurse, 'i should not have troubled you. but i fear that a witch or a wicked fairy must have bewitched her.' then merlin burst out laughing. 'why do you go on pretending to me?' he said. 'i know all about it. this is the beautiful princess britomart, and you are her nurse.' at that britomart blushed rosy red, but the nurse said: 'if you know all our grief, then have pity on us, and give us your help.' then merlin told britomart not to be sad, for artegall was a real living knight, and one of the bravest and noblest that lived. his home was in fairyland, but he was a king's son that the fairies had stolen away when he was a baby. 'you shall marry artegall,' said the magician, 'and bring him back from fairyland to his own country, where he shall be king.' then he gave her much advice, and told her of the great things that should be done in the days to come by the sons that were to be hers and artegall's. and britomart and her nurse, with happy hearts, came away from the magician's gloomy cave. 'but how shall we seek my knight?' asked britomart of her nurse. 'how shall we find him?' the nurse said: 'let us dress ourselves in some of the armour that your father has taken from his enemies. you shall be a knight, and i will be your squire. together we will ride to fairyland and find artegall.' when britomart was dressed in shining armour of silver and gold, she looked a very handsome, tall, young knight. her nurse dressed her as carefully as she had dressed her long ago in her baby-clothes, and, when all her armour was on, she put into her hand a long spear. it was a magic spear, and there had never yet been born a knight who could sit on his saddle when it struck him. in the silent night they got on their horses and rode away, no longer a princess and her nurse, but a gallant knight and a little old squire, who seemed to find his big shield much too heavy for him. before britomart and her nurse had ridden very far, they saw two knights riding towards them. these were guyon and the red cross knight. guyon rode furiously at britomart, but britomart rode as furiously at him with her magic spear. and, for the first time in his life, guyon found himself thrown from his horse and sitting heavily down on the ground. he was very much ashamed and very angry, and would have rushed at britomart with his sword. but the old palmer, who was with him, calmed his rage, and he made friends with britomart. and for some time britomart and those two brave knights rode on together, and shared fights and adventures. one day as they rode together, britomart asked the red cross knight if he knew a wicked knight called artegall. 'he is not a wicked knight,' said the red cross knight angrily. 'he is one of the bravest and the best.' britomart was so glad to hear him say this of artegall, that she could scarcely hide her joy. but she went on pretending that she thought artegall bad and cruel, just that she might hear his friend praise him. 'there is no knight more brave than artegall,' said the red cross knight. 'ladies who suffer wrong, and little children who have none to care for them, are always sure of having artegall to fight for them. he is as good as he is brave, and as brave as he is good.' britomart loved the red cross knight because he was so true to his friend, and more than ever she loved artegall, the knight of the mirror. presently her way and that of the red cross knight parted, and she rode on with her squire until they came to the sea-shore. the sea was beating against the rocks, and moaning as it cast itself against the high crags. britomart made her old nurse unlace her helmet, and sat down and watched the cold grey waves. 'i feel like a little boat beaten about by the sea,' she said. 'when shall i ever reach my harbour, and find the knight i seek?' for a long time she sat, sadly thinking. but at last she saw a knight cantering along the sand, and quickly put on her helmet and leaped on her horse, and rode to meet him. he was a bold knight, and told her to fly, or he would kill her. '_fly!_' proudly said britomart. 'words only frighten babies. i will not fly. i will fight you!' then they fought, and with her spear britomart gave the knight a terrible wound, and rode away, leaving him lying senseless on the shore. many other fights had britomart as she sought artegall, and always her magic spear made her the winner. one day she came to a place where a great many knights were having a tournament. a beautiful golden girdle, sparkling with jewels, was to be the prize for the knight that fought the best. for three days they had fought and fought, until the ground was strewed with broken spears and swords. on the last day of the tournament a stranger knight had appeared. his armour did not shine with silver and gold like those of the other knights, but looked like an old tree all overgrown with moss. his horse was decked with oak-leaves, and he carried a battered old shield. 'the savage knight,' the others called him, and they would have laughed at him and his shabby armour, had he not fought so well. all day long he fought, and one knight after another he threw wounded or dead on the ground. at sunset they feared him as they might have feared a fierce lion, and none dared stand against him. just then britomart rode up with her golden armour gleaming against the sunset sky. she couched her spear and rode at the savage knight, and threw him to the ground. the other knights then all rode at her, but them, too, she threw down with her magic spear. so they had to own that britomart was the victor, and had won the golden girdle. now the savage knight was not really a savage knight. he was no other than artegall, the knight of the crystal ball. artegall was so ashamed, and so angry with britomart for having thrown him from his horse, that when the tournament was over, he rode away to a wood, through which he knew that britomart must pass. 'the stranger knight with his magic spear shall fight me once again,' he angrily said, 'and this time he shall not be the victor.' presently, as he sat under the trees, and watched his horse grazing, he saw britomart riding up, brave and fearless, in her golden armour. artegall sprang on his horse, and furiously rode at britomart with his steel-headed lance. but, in the twinkling of an eye, he found himself lying on the turf, again unseated by the magic spear. he rushed at britomart then with his sword, and cut and thrust at her so savagely that her horse backed away from him. at last he struck a great blow at her head, and the sword, glancing down her armour, struck her horse with such force on its back that it fell to the ground, and britomart had to jump off. she threw aside her spear and furiously smote artegall with her sword. she cut his armour through, and wounded him so deeply that blood from his wound streamed to the ground. the blows from artegall's sword fell on her like hail, but she struck him as fiercely as he struck her. the grass got trampled down and stained with blood, yet still they smote and thrust and smote again. at last artegall grew very tired, and britomart was more tired still. when artegall saw how tired she was, he gathered up all his strength and struck her a terrific blow, hoping to kill her quite. but the blow only sheared off the front part of her helmet, and left her face uncovered. and as artegall's arm rose again for another deadly stroke, it stopped short in the air. for instead of the grim face of the fierce knight he thought he was fighting, there looked out a face that artegall thought was the loveliest he had ever seen. britomart's cheeks were hot and pink, and her hair, that was so long that it reached her feet, had burst from its band and framed her fair face like a golden frame. the sword slipped from artegall's fingers to the ground. he knelt at britomart's feet and begged her to forgive him for having treated her so roughly. but britomart was still angry with him for that last fierce stroke of his. 'rise!' she said, 'or i shall kill you!' and she held her sword over his head. but artegall would not rise, but only prayed her the more earnestly to forgive him. then the old nurse drew near and begged britomart to have a truce. 'rest yourself for a little,' she said, 'and let the savage knight rest too.' britomart agreed, and the knight raised the front of his helmet that he might breathe more freely. when britomart saw his face, so handsome and so brave, she knew at once that the savage knight that she had tried to kill was artegall, the knight of the mirror. her arm dropped, and her sword fell from her hand. she tried to speak roughly to him, but her tongue would not say the words. together they rode off to a castle, where they stayed till they were rested and their wounds were healed. and each day that they were together artegall loved britomart more and more, until at last he could stay no longer silent, but told her that he loved her more than all the world. so it was that the beautiful princess britomart found her husband, the gallant knight of the magic mirror. iv the quest of sir guyon long ago, on the first day of every year, the queen of the fairies used to give a great feast. on that day all the bravest of her knights came to her court, and when people wanted help to slay a dragon or a savage beast, or to drive away a witch or wicked fairy, they also came and told their stories. to one of those feasts there came an old palmer dressed in black. his hair was grey, and he leaned heavily on his long staff. he told a sad tale of the evil things done in his land by a wicked witch. the faery queen turned to guyon, one of the bravest and handsomest of her young knights. 'you shall go with this old man and save his land,' she said to him. 'i am not worthy,' said sir guyon, 'but i will do your bidding and my best.' so he rode away with the palmer. his good horse had never paced so slowly before, for guyon made him keep step with the feeble old man. it was not possible to go far from the fairy court without having fights and adventures, but in every fight guyon was the victor, because he listened to what the good old palmer said, and did not think that he himself knew better. one day they came to a wide river on which floated a little boat, all decked out with green branches. in it sat a fair lady, who sang and laughed and seemed very happy and very gay. she was a servant of the wicked witch for whom guyon was looking, but this guyon did not know. she offered to ferry guyon across the river, but she said there was no room in her boat for the palmer. guyon thought she looked so pretty and merry, and so kind, that he gladly went with her. together they gaily sailed down the river. when the birds sang, she sang along with them, and when little waves gurgled and laughed against the side of the boat, she laughed too. but soon guyon found that she was not really good, and he loved her gay laugh no longer, and presently left her and wandered on alone in the island to which she had brought him. at last he came to a gloomy glen where trees and shrubs grew so thickly that no sunlight could get in. sitting there in the darkness he found a rough and ugly man. his face was tanned with smoke and his eyes were bleared. great heaps of gold lay about him on every side. when he saw guyon, he dashed in a great fright at his money, and began to try to pour it into a hole and hide it, lest guyon should steal it from him. but guyon ran quickly at him and caught him by the arm. 'who are you,' he asked, 'who hide your money in this lonely place, instead of using it rightly or giving it away?' to which the man answered, 'i am mammon, the money god. i am the greatest god beneath the sky. if you will be my servant, all this money shall be yours. or if this be not gold enough for you, a mountain of gold, ten times more than what you see, shall be your very own.' but guyon shook his head. 'i want none of your gold,' said he. 'fair shields, gay steeds, bright arms be my delight, those be the riches fit for an adventurous knight.' then said the money god, 'money will buy you all those things. it can buy you crowns and kingdoms.' 'money brings wars and wrongs, bloodshed and bitterness,' said guyon. 'you may keep your gold.' the money god grew angry then. 'you do not know what you refuse,' he said. 'come with me and see.' guyon the fearless followed him into the thickest of the bushes and down a dark opening in the ground. on and on they went through the darkness. ugly things came and glared at them, and owls and night ravens flapped their wings, but guyon had no fear. at length they came to a huge cave whose roof and floor and walls were all of gold, but the gold was dimmed by dust and cobwebs. a light like the light of the moon from behind a dark cloud showed guyon great iron chests and coffers full of money, but the ground was strewn with the skulls and dry bones of men who had tried to get the gold, and who had failed and perished there. [illustration: great heaps of gold lay about him on every side (page )] 'will you serve me now?' asked mammon. 'only be my servant, and all these riches shall be yours.' 'i will not serve you,' answered guyon. 'i place a higher happiness before my eyes.' then mammon led him into another room where were a hundred blazing furnaces. hideous slaves of the money god blew bellows and stirred the flames, and ladled out of huge caldrons on the fires great spoonfuls of molten gold. when they saw guyon in his shining armour, they stopped their work and stared at him in fear and amazement. never before had they seen any one who was not as horrible and as ugly as themselves. once again mammon offered him the gold he saw, but again guyon refused it. then did he bring him to a place where was a gate of beaten gold. through this gate they passed, and guyon found himself in a vast golden room, upheld by golden pillars that shone and sparkled with precious stones. on a throne in this room sat a beautiful lady, dressed in clothes more gorgeous than any that the greatest king on earth ever wore. 'that is my daughter,' said mammon. 'she shall be your wife, and all these treasures that are too great to be counted shall be yours, if only you will be my servant.' 'i thank you, mammon,' said guyon, 'but my love is given to another lady.' the money god was full of rage, yet still he thought that he might win guyon to his will. he took him to a garden where dark cypresses hung their heads over the flaming blossoms of poppies that made men sleep for ever, and where every sort of poisonous flower and shrub flourished richly. it was called the garden of proserpine. the most beautiful thing in the garden was a great tree, thickly leaved and heavily hung with shining golden apples. the branches of the tree hung their golden fruit over a dark river. when guyon went to the river's brink and looked in, he saw many men struggling and moaning in the dark and fearful water. some were trying to grasp the fruit that hung just beyond their reach, and others were trying vainly to get out. 'you fool!' said mammon, 'why do you not pick some of the golden fruit that hangs so easily within your reach?' but guyon, although for three long days and nights he had been without sleep and meat and drink in the dark land of the money god, was too true and good a knight to do what mammon wished. had he picked the fruit, he would have put himself in mammon's power, and at once been torn into a thousand pieces. 'i will not take the fruit,' he said; 'i will not be your slave.' and then, for days and days, guyon knew no more. when he came to himself and opened his eyes, he found that his head was resting on the knee of the good old palmer. after the witch's beautiful servant had rowed guyon away, the palmer had tried and tried to find a means of crossing the river, until at last he succeeded. day after day he sought guyon, until one day a fairy voice called to him, loud and clear, 'come hither! hither! oh come hastily!' he hurried to the place from whence the voice came, and in the dark thicket where mammon had sat and counted his gold, he found guyon lying. a beautiful spirit with golden hair and shining wings of many colours, like the wings of a lovely bird, sat by guyon's side, keeping all enemies and evil things far from him. when guyon felt able for the journey, he and the palmer went on with their travels, and he had many fights and many adventures. but ever after he had been tempted to be mammon's slave and had resisted him, he was a better and a braver knight. all his battles ended in victories, and he helped all those who needed help, and at last he and the palmer reached the shore of the sea across which was the land of the wicked witch. they got a little boat, and a boatman to row them, and for two days they were far out at sea. on the morning of the third day, guyon and the others heard the sound of raging water. in the trembling light of the dawn that was spreading across the sea they saw great waves casting themselves high into the sky. it was a gulf, called the gulf of greediness, and in its furious waves many ships were wrecked. but the palmer steered so straight and well that he guided the little boat without harm through the angry seas. on one side of the gulf was a great black rock where screaming seamews and cormorants sat and waited for ships to be wrecked. it was a magic rock, and the water round it tried to draw guyon's boat against its ragged sides, that it might be smashed to pieces like the other boats and ships whose broken fragments tossed up and down in the tide. but so wisely did the palmer steer, and so strongly did the boatman row, that they safely passed the magic rock and got into calm water. and still the boatman rowed so hard that the little boat cut through the water like a silver blade, and the spray dashed off the oars into guyon's face. 'i see land!' at last called guyon. on every side they saw little islands. when they got nearer they found that they looked fresh and green and pleasant. tall trees with blossoms of white and red grew on them. 'let us land!' cried guyon. but the boatman shook his head. 'those are the wandering islands,' he said. 'they are magic islands, and if any one lands on one of them he must wander for ever and ever.' on one island sat a beautiful lady, with her long hair flowing round her. she beckoned and called to them to come on shore, and when they would not listen she jumped into a little boat and rowed swiftly after them. then guyon saw that it was the wicked witch's beautiful servant, and they took no notice of her. so she got tired of coaxing, and went away, calling them names. a terrible whirlpool, where the waves rushed furiously round and round, was the next danger that they met. then, when they were free of that, a great storm arose, and every fierce and ugly fish and monster that ever lived in the sea came rushing at the boat from out the foaming waves, roaring as if they were going to devour them. 'have no fear,' said the palmer to guyon. 'these ugly shapes were only made by the wicked witch to frighten you.' with his palmer's staff he smote the sea. the waves sank down to rest, and all the ugly monsters vanished away. when the storm had ceased they saw on an island a lady, who wept and wailed and cried for help. guyon, who was always ready to help those who wanted help, wished at once to go to her. but the palmer would not let him. 'she is another of the servants of the witch,' he said, 'and is only pretending to be sad.' they came then to a peaceful bay that lay in the shadow of a great grey hill, and from it came the sweetest music that guyon had ever heard. five beautiful mermaids were swimming in the clear green water, and the melody of their song made guyon long to stop and listen. they had made this song about guyon: 'o thou fair son of gentle fairy, thou art in mighty arms most magnified above all knights that ever battle tried. o! turn thy rudder hitherward awhile, here may thy storm-beat vessel safely ride. this is the port of rest from troublous toil, the world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil.' the rolling sea gently echoed their music, and the breaking waves kept time with their voices. the very wind seemed to blend with the melody and make it so beautiful that guyon longed and longed to go with them to their peaceful bay under the grey hill. but the palmer would not let him stop, and the boatman rowed onwards. then a thick, choking, grey mist crept over the sea and blotted out everything, and they could not tell where to steer. and round the boat flew great flocks of fierce birds and bats, smiting the voyagers in their faces with wicked wings. still the boatman rowed steadily on, and steadily the palmer steered, till the weather began to clear. and, when the fog was gone, they saw at last the fair land to which the faerie queen had sent guyon, that he might save it from the magic of the wicked witch. when they reached the shore the boatman stayed with his boat, and guyon and the palmer landed. and the palmer was glad, for he felt that their task was nearly done. savage, roaring beasts rushed at them as soon as they reached the shore. but the palmer waved his staff at them, and they shrank trembling away. soon guyon and his guide came to the palace of the witch. the palace was made of ivory as white as the foam of the sea, and it glittered with gold. at the ivory gate stood a young man decked with flowers, and holding a staff in his hand. he impudently held out a great bowl of wine for guyon to drink. but guyon threw the bowl on the ground, and broke the staff with which the man worked wicked magic. then guyon and the palmer passed on, through rich gardens full of beautiful flowers, and came to another gate made of green boughs and branches. over it spread a vine, from which hung great bunches of grapes, red, and green, and purple and gold. a beautiful lady stood by the gate. she reached up to a bunch of purple grapes, and squeezed their juice into a golden cup and offered it to guyon. but guyon dashed the cup to the ground, and left her raging at him. past trees and flowers and clear fountains they went, and all the time through this lovely place there rang magic music. sweet voices, the song of birds, the whispering winds, the sound of silvery instruments, and the murmur of water all blended together to make melody. the farther they went, the more beautiful were the sights they saw, and the sweeter the music. at last, lying on a bed of red roses, they found the wicked witch. softly they crept through the flowery shrubs to where she lay, and before she knew that they were near, guyon threw over her a net that the palmer had made. she struggled wildly to free herself, but before she could escape, guyon bound her fast with chains. then he broke down and destroyed the palace, and all the things that had seemed so beautiful, but that were only a part of her wicked magic. as guyon and the palmer led the witch by her chains to their boat that waited by the shore, the fierce beasts that had attacked them when they landed came roaring at them again. but the palmer touched each one with his staff, and at once they were turned into men. for it was only the witch's magic that had made them beasts. one of them, named gryll, who had been a pig, was angry with the palmer, and said he had far rather stay a pig than be a man. 'let gryll be gryll, and have his hoggish mind, but let us hence depart whilst weather serves and wind,' said the palmer. so they sailed away to the fairy court, and gave their wicked prisoner to the queen to be punished. and sir guyon was ready once again to do the faerie queen's commands, to war against all evil things, and to fight bravely for the right. v pastorella long, long ago, in a far-away land, there lived a great noble, called the lord of many islands. he had a beautiful daughter named claribel, and he wished her to marry a rich prince. but claribel loved a brave young knight, and she married him without her father's knowledge. the lord of many islands was fearfully angry when he found out that she was married. he threw the young knight into one dark dungeon and claribel into another, and there they were imprisoned for years and years, until the lord of many islands was dead. claribel was rich then, and she and her husband would have been very happy together, but for a great loss that they had had. while she was in prison a little baby girl came to claribel. she feared that her angry father might kill the baby if he knew that it had been born, so she gave it to her maid, and told her to give it to some one to take care of. the maid carried the child far away to where there were no houses, but only wild moors and thick woods. there was no one there to give it to, but she dared not take it back in case its grandfather might kill it. she did not know what to do, and she cried and cried until the baby's clothes were quite wet with her tears. it was a very pretty baby, and the maid noticed that on its little breast there was a tiny purple mark, as if some one had painted on it an open rose. she drew its clothes over the mark, and then laid the baby gently down behind some green bushes, and went home crying bitterly. when the baby found herself lying out in the cold with no one to care for her, she cried too. and she cried so loudly and so long, that a shepherd called meliboeus heard her cries, and came to see what was wrong. when he found the beautiful baby, he wrapped her in his warm cloak and carried her home to his wife. from that day the baby was their little girl. they called her pastorella, and loved her as if she were really their own. pastorella grew up amongst shepherds and shepherdesses, yet she was never quite like them. none of the shepherdesses were as beautiful as she was, and none were as gentle nor as full of grace. so they called pastorella their queen, and would often crown her with garlands of flowers. when pastorella was grown up, there came one day to the country of plains and woods where she lived a brave and noble knight. his name was calidore, and of all the knights of the faerie queen there was none so gentle nor so courteous as he. he always thought of others first, and never did anything that he thought would hurt the feelings of any one. yet he was brave and strong, and had done many gallant deeds. he was hunting a monster that had done much harm, when he came near the home of pastorella. sheep were grazing on the plain, and nibbling the golden buds that the spring sunshine had brought to the broom. shepherds were watching the sheep. some were singing out of the happiness of their hearts, because of the blue sky and the green grass and the spring flowers. others were playing on pipes they had made for themselves out of the fresh young willow saplings. calidore asked them if they had seen the monster that he sought. 'we have seen no monster, nor any dreadful thing that could do our sheep or us harm,' they answered, 'and if there be such things, we pray they may be kept far from us.' then one of them, seeing how hot and tired sir calidore was, asked him if he would have something to drink and something to eat. their food was very simple, but calidore thanked them, and gladly sat down to eat and drink along with them. a little way from where they sat, some shepherds and shepherdesses were dancing. hand in hand, the pretty shepherdesses danced round in a ring. beyond them sat a circle of shepherds, who sang and piped for the girls to dance. and on a green hillock in the middle of the ring of girls sat pastorella. she wore a dainty gown that she herself had made, and on her head was a crown of spring flowers that the shepherdesses had bound together with gay silken ribbons. 'pastorella,' sang the shepherds and the girls, 'pastorella is our queen.' calidore sat and watched. and the more he looked at pastorella, the more he wanted to look. and he looked, and he looked, and he looked again at pastorella's sweet and lovely face, until pastorella had stolen all his heart away. he forgot all about the monster he was hunting, and could only say to himself, as the shepherds had sung, 'pastorella ... pastorella ... pastorella is my queen.' all day long he sat, until the evening dew began to fall, and the sunset slowly died away, and the shepherds called the sheep together and drove them home. as long as pastorella was there, calidore felt that he could not move. but presently an old man with silver hair and beard, and a shepherd's crook in his hand, came and called to pastorella, 'come, my daughter, it is time to go home.' it was meliboeus, and when calidore saw pastorella rise and call her sheep and turn to go, he did not know what to do, for he could only think of pastorella. but when good old meliboeus saw the knight being left all alone, and the shadows falling, and the trees looking grey and cold, he said to him, 'i have only a little cottage, turfed outside to keep out the wind and wet, but it is better to be there than to roam all night in the lonely woods, and i bid you welcome, sir knight.' [illustration: in the middle of the ring of girls sat pastorella (page )] and calidore gladly went with him, for that was just what he was longing to do. all evening, as he listened to the talk of meliboeus, who was a wise and good old man, calidore's eyes followed pastorella. he offered meliboeus some gold to pay for his lodging, but meliboeus said, 'i do not want your gold, but, if you will, stay with us and be our guest.' so, day after day, calidore stayed with the shepherds. and, day after day, he loved pastorella more. he treated her and said pretty things to her as knights were used to treat and to speak to the court ladies. but pastorella was used to simpler things, and liked the simple things best. when calidore saw this, he laid aside his armour and dressed himself like a shepherd, with a crook instead of a spear. every day he helped pastorella to drive her sheep to the field, and took care of them and drove away the hungry wolves, so that she might do as she liked and never have any care, knowing that he was there. now, one of the shepherds, whose name was corydon, for a long time had loved pastorella. he would steal the little fluffy sparrows from their nests, and catch the young squirrels, and bring them to her as gifts. he helped her with her sheep, and tried in every way he knew to show her that he loved her. when he saw calidore doing things for pastorella he grew very jealous and angry. he sulked and scowled and was very cross with pastorella. one day when the shepherd who piped the best was playing, the other shepherds said that calidore and pastorella must dance. but calidore put corydon in his place, and when pastorella took her own garland of flowers and placed it on calidore's head, calidore gently took it off and put it on corydon's. another time, when the shepherds were wrestling, corydon challenged calidore to wrestle with him. corydon was a very good wrestler, and he hoped to throw calidore down. but in one minute calidore had thrown corydon flat on the ground. then pastorella gave the victor's crown of oak-leaves to calidore. but calidore said 'corydon has won the oak-leaves well,' and placed the crown on corydon's head. all the shepherds except corydon soon came to like calidore, for he was always gentle and kind. but corydon hated him, because he thought that pastorella cared for calidore more than she cared for him. one day pastorella and corydon and calidore went together to the woods to gather wild strawberries. pastorella's little fingers were busy picking the ripe red fruit from amongst its fresh green leaves, when there glided from out the bushes a great beast of black and yellow, that walked quietly as a cat and had yellow, cruel eyes. it was a tiger, and when pastorella heard a twig break under its great pads, and looked up, it rushed at her fiercely. pastorella screamed for help, and corydon, who was near her, ran to see what was wrong. but when he saw the savage tiger, he ran away again in a fearful fright. calidore was further off, but he, too, ran, and came just in time to see the tiger spring at pastorella. he had no sword nor spear, but with his shepherd's crook he struck the tiger such a terrific blow, that it dropped, stunned, to the ground. before it could rise, he drew his knife and cut off its head, which he laid at pastorella's feet. from that day pastorella loved calidore, and he and she were very, very happy together. it chanced that one day calidore went far into the forest to hunt the deer. while he was away a band of wicked robbers attacked the shepherds. they killed many of them, and took the rest prisoners. they burned down all their cottages, and stole their flocks of sheep. amongst those that they drove away as captives were meliboeus and his wife, corydon, and pastorella. through the dark night they drove them on, until they came to the sea. on an island near the coast was the robbers' home. the island was covered with trees and thick brushwood, and the robbers lived in underground caves, so well hidden amongst the bushes that it was hard to find them. the robbers meant to sell the shepherds and shepherdesses as slaves, but until merchants came to buy them they kept their prisoners in the darkest of the caves, and used them very cruelly. one morning the robber captain came to look at his captives. when he saw pastorella in her pretty gown, all soiled now and worn, with her long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes, and her face white and thin with suffering, he thought her so lovely that he determined to have her for his wife. from that day she was kindly treated. but when the robber told pastorella that he loved her and wanted her for his wife, she pretended she was ill. 'i am much too ill to marry any one,' she said. to the island there came one day the ships of some merchants who wished to buy slaves. they bought meliboeus and corydon and all the others. then one of the robbers said to the captain: 'they are all here but the fair shepherdess.' and he told the merchants that pastorella would make a much more beautiful slave than any of those they had bought. then the captain was very angry. 'she belongs to me,' he said. 'i will not sell her.' to show the merchants that pastorella was ill and not fit to be a slave, at last he sent for her. the cave was lighted only by flickering candles, and pastorella's fair face looked like a beautiful star in the darkness. although she was so pale, she was so beautiful that the merchants said that they must certainly have her. 'i have told you i will not sell her,' said the captain sulkily. they offered him much gold, but still he would only say, 'i will not sell her.' 'if you will not sell this slave,' said the merchants, 'we will not buy any of the others.' then the other robbers grew very angry with their captain, and tried to compel him to give in. 'i shall kill the first who dares lay a hand on her!' furiously said the captain, drawing his sword. then began a fearful fight. the candles were knocked down, and the robbers fought in the dark, no man knowing with whom he fought. but before the candles went out, the robbers in their fury killed all their prisoners, lest they might take the chance of escaping, or fight against them. old meliboeus and his wife were slain, and all the other shepherds and shepherdesses, excepting corydon and pastorella. corydon, who was always good at running away, escaped in the darkness. the robber captain put pastorella behind him, and fought for her. at last he was stabbed through the heart and fell dead. the sword that killed him pierced pastorella's arm, and she, too, fell down in a faint. when she opened her eyes the robbers who were left had stopped fighting, and had lighted the candles, and were counting their dead and wounded. when she saw her dear father and mother and her friends lying cold and still beside her, she began to sob and cry. as soon as the robbers knew that she lived, they thrust her back into the darkest of their caves. the most cruel of all the robbers was her gaoler. he would not allow her to bind up her wound, and he gave her scarcely anything to eat or to drink. he would not even let her rest, and so, in pain and hunger and sadness, pastorella passed her weary nights and days. now when calidore got back from his hunting, he expected to hear the shepherds' pipes, and their songs, and the bleating of the sheep, and to see pastorella in her dainty gown and with flowers in her golden hair coming to meet him. instead of that, the place which had been so gay was sad and silent. the cottages were smouldering black ruins, and there was no living creature there. calidore wildly sought everywhere for some trace of pastorella. but when he sought her in the woods and called 'pastorella ... pastorella ...', only the trees echoed 'pastorella.' in the plains he sought her, but they lay silent and lonely under the stars, and they, too, only echoed 'pastorella ... pastorella....' week after week he searched for her, until one day he saw a man running across the plain. the man's hair was standing up on his head as if he were in a terrible fright, and his clothes were in rags. when he got near, calidore saw that it was corydon. 'where is pastorella?' eagerly asked calidore. corydon burst into tears. 'ah, well-a-day,' he said, 'i saw fair pastorella die!' he then told calidore all about the robbers' raid, and all that had happened in that dreadful cave. only one thing he did not know. he did not know that pastorella was alive. he had seen her fall down, and he thought that she was dead. so calidore's heart was nearly broken, and he vowed a vow that he would not rest until he had punished the wicked men who had killed pastorella. he made corydon come with him to show him the way to the robbers' island. at first corydon was too frightened to go, but at last calidore persuaded him. together they set off, dressed like shepherds. but although calidore carried only a shepherd's crook, under his smock he wore his steel armour. when at last they had reached the island, they found some sheep grazing, and knew them for some of those that had belonged to meliboeus. when corydon saw the sheep he had taken care of in the days when he was most happy, he began to cry. but calidore comforted him, and they went on to where some robber shepherds lay asleep in the shade. corydon wanted to kill them as they slept, but calidore had other plans, and would not let him. he awoke them, and they talked together. the robbers told him that they did not care to look after sheep, but liked better to fight and rob and kill. when calidore and corydon said that they would help them to keep the sheep, the robbers were glad. all day they stayed with the flocks, and at night the robbers took them home to their dark caves. there calidore and corydon heard news that made them glad, but made calidore the more glad, for he loved pastorella more than corydon had ever done. they learned that pastorella was alive. and so, day after day, they went on with their work, and waited and watched for a chance to set pastorella free. one night when the robbers had been away all day stealing and killing, and were all very tired, calidore knew that the time had come to try to save pastorella. corydon was too frightened to go with him. so all alone, at dead of night, calidore went to the cave where the new robber captain, pastorella's gaoler, slept. calidore had managed to get a little sword belonging to a robber, but he had nothing else to fight with. when he came to the cave, he found the door fastened. he put his strong shoulder against it, and burst the door in. the crash awoke pastorella's gaoler, and he ran to see what it was. with one blow of his sword calidore killed him. then he called, till his voice rang through the gloomy cave, '_pastorella!_' pastorella heard the noise, and lay trembling lest some new dreadful thing had come upon her. but when, again and again, calidore called her name, her heart jumped for joy, and she ran out of the darkness right into her true knight's arms. and calidore threw his arms about her, and kissed her a thousand times. the robbers had waked up, hearing the crash of the door, and the yell of the robber as he died, and calidore's cry of 'pastorella.' like a swarm of angry wasps they flocked to the door of the cave, but in the doorway stood calidore with his sword, and slew every man who dared to try to kill him. he slew and slew until the doorway was blocked with dead bodies. then those robbers that still lived were afraid to touch him, and went away to rest until morning. calidore also rested, and when daylight came he found amongst the dead robbers a better sword than the one he already had, and with that in his hand he walked out of the cave. the robbers were lying in wait for him, and rushed at him from every side when he appeared. but calidore was like a lion in a herd of deer. with his sharp sword he thrust and smote, until the robbers who did not lie dead around him fled in terror, and hid themselves in their caves. then calidore went back to where he had left pastorella, and cheered and comforted her. together they went through the robbers' caves, and took the richest of their treasures of gold and precious jewels. all the sheep they gave to corydon, who gladly drove them away. then calidore took pastorella to the castle of one of his friends, a noble knight, whose gentle wife was called claribel. calidore had to go to hunt the monster that he was pursuing when he first met the shepherds, so he left pastorella with the knight and his lady. pastorella was so gentle and beautiful that they loved her for her own sweet sake, as well as for calidore's, and cared for her as if she was their own daughter. an old woman who had always been claribel's maid was given as maid to pastorella. one morning as this woman helped her to dress, she noticed on pastorella's white breast a curious little mark. it was as if some one had painted on the fair skin a tiny purple rose with open petals. the old woman ran to her mistress, claribel. 'your baby lives!' she cried; 'the little baby i left crying under the green bushes is the beautiful pastorella who is to marry sir calidore!' claribel ran to pastorella's room, and looked at the little rose, and asked many questions. and when pastorella had answered her, she was quite satisfied that she was indeed the baby-girl for whom her heart had been so hungry through all those years. 'my daughter, my daughter, that i mourned as dead!' she sobbed, as she held pastorella in her arms and kissed her again and again. when the knight knew that he was pastorella's father, he was as glad as claribel. so they lived happily together until calidore had slain the monster and come back to marry pastorella. then instead of pastorella, the shepherd's daughter, with her little dainty gown and her wreath of wildflowers, he found a pastorella in jewels, and silks, and satins, who was the daughter of a great knight and his lady, and grand-daughter of the lord of many islands. yet the pastorella who married brave sir calidore was evermore pastorella, the simplest and sweetest bride that any knight ever brought to the court of the faerie queen. vi cambell and triamond once upon a time a fairy had a lovely daughter called cambina, and three sons who were born on the same day. the eldest son she named priamond, the second diamond, and the third triamond. priamond was very stout and big, but he could not strike hard. diamond struck very hard, but he was little and thin. but triamond was tall and stout and strong as well. priamond used to fight on foot. triamond fought on horseback. but diamond could fight equally well on a horse or off it. triamond fought with a spear and shield. diamond fought with a battle-axe. but priamond could fight just as well with an axe as he could with a spear and shield. their fairy mother was so fond and so proud of her gallant sons, that she could not bear to think of one of them dying. so she went to see three witches called the three fates, who lived in a dark place underground, and worked at their spinning-wheels day and night. she asked the fates to let her sons have long, long lives. that they would not promise, but they promised that if priamond died first, all his strength should go into the other two. and if diamond should then die, all his strength and priamond's were to go into their brother triamond. priamond, diamond, and triamond loved each other very dearly. when they grew up and all fell in love with the same lady, it did not make them less good friends. the name of this lady was canacee. she was very beautiful, and was the cleverest lady in all that land. she knew all about birds and beasts and plants and flowers, and was as witty as she was wise. many knights wished to marry her, and these knights were so jealous of each other that they were constantly fighting about her. canacee had a brother named cambell, a wise young knight, who was sorry to see how often the knights fought with each other about his sister. one day, when they were all gathered together, cambell told them that he had made a plan by which they could decide which of them was to marry canacee. [illustration: she asked the fates to let her sons have long, long lives (page )] 'choose from amongst yourselves,' said he, 'the three knights that you all think the bravest and the best fighters, and i shall fight them, one by one. the knight who beats me shall have my sister canacee for his wife.' now all the knights knew that canacee had given her brother a magic ring, and that, as long as he wore it, no matter how deep a wound he got, the wound would not bleed, and he would not die. 'it is very well for cambell,' they said. 'we cannot kill him, but he can kill us.' so they would not fight, even to win canacee. but the three brothers, priamond, diamond, and triamond, were not afraid. 'we will fight with you, cambell,' they said, 'for all of us love canacee.' so a day was fixed for this great fight. on the morning of the day, no sooner was it light than the three brothers in their shining armour were ready on the field. crowds of people came to watch the fight, and there were six judges to see that the knights fought fairly. canacee, in a beautiful dress, sat on a high platform whence she could see all that went on. when cambell strode into the field, he looked as if he were quite sure of defeating all three knights. then came priamond, diamond, and triamond, marching together, in splendid armour, with their gay-coloured banners flying. they bowed low before canacee, the lady they loved, and the trumpets sounded and sweet music played. then a trumpet blew loudly, and cambell and stout priamond began to fight. furiously they struck at each other, and at last priamond's spear went through cambell's shoulder. but although the shoulder was pierced, and the pain from the wound was terrible, not a single drop of blood fell from it. so they fought and fought, until cambell's spear was driven through brave priamond's neck. like a great oak-tree that the storm has struck, priamond tottered, then fell with a mighty crash. there, on the ground, he lay bleeding and dead. when he died, all his strength passed into his two brothers, as the three fates had promised to his fairy mother. a second time the trumpet sounded, and slight little diamond, his battle-axe in his hand, fiercely rushed at cambell. so furiously did they hew and hack at each other, that their armour was cut and gashed as if it had been rotten wood. no blood flowed from cambell's wounds, but diamond's blood gushed fast, and reddened the green turf. fierce little diamond grew tired at last of hacking and hewing and yet never killing cambell. so he put all his strength into one terrible stroke, and swung his axe round with all his might. had the blow reached cambell it must have chopped his head in two, but cambell swerved aside. diamond had used so much force, that when he missed his aim his foot slipped. cambell took the chance, let drive at him with all his power, and with his axe cut diamond's head clean off. for a moment diamond's headless body stood still. then gallant little diamond fell dead on the ground. as he fell, all his strength, and the strength of priamond, went into triamond, the youngest brother. then triamond, stronger and more angry than he had ever been before, lightly sprang up from where he had sat to watch the fight. his strokes fell like hail on cambell's armour. he struck, he thrust, he hewed, he hacked, till the sparks flew from his sword like the shining drops that are dashed from a waterfall. sometimes triamond seemed to be winning; sometimes cambell. the blood gushed from triamond's wounds, till he grew faint. but although cambell was covered with wounds the magic ring stopped his blood from flowing, so that he grew no less strong. when he saw triamond growing weak, he smote him in the throat with all his might, and triamond fell down as if he were dead. but triamond did not die. from the fearful wound all the strength that had belonged to his brother priamond ebbed away. still he had his own strength and diamond's strength left. so he rose up again, and cambell, who had thought him dead, was so amazed that triamond gave him a hard stroke before he had time to defend himself. then cambell fought with more care, and seemed rather to try to save himself than to try to kill triamond. triamond, seeing this, thought that cambell must be tired, and that he could easily beat him now. with that he whirled up his sword to give a fearful blow. but cambell, quick as lightning, thrust his sword under triamond's upraised arm, so that it passed right through his body and came out at the other side. even then the blow that triamond struck was such a terrible one, that it cut through cambell's steel helmet and gashed open his head, and he fell senseless to the ground. triamond, too, fell down, and out of his wound all diamond's strength ebbed away. when those who looked on saw this, they thought that the fight was at an end, because the fighters all lay dead. canacee began to cry because her brother and the brave knight who loved her were slain. but in a moment both knights rose to their feet again. those who watched could not believe their eyes when they saw them begin to fight as fiercely as before. while every one stared in wonder and in fear, because they knew that soon the knights must surely kill each other, a loud noise suddenly drowned the clash of weapons. it was a sound as of women and boys shouting and screaming in a panic. cambell and triamond stopped their fight for an instant to listen and to look at the place from whence the noise came. they saw a golden chariot, decked with wonderful ornaments, whirling towards them with the force of a storm. two fierce lions drew the chariot, and in it sat a lady, whose face shone with beauty and goodness. it was triamond's sister, cambina, who knew more about magic than almost any one else in all fairyland. when the crowds who watched saw her and her growling lions, they huddled together like frightened sheep. some laughed, most of them screamed, and all of them ran till the dust flew up in clouds. in one hand cambina carried a magic wand with two serpents twisted round it. in the other she held a golden cup filled with a magic drink, that made those who drank of it forget all anger and bitterness, and filled their hearts with happiness and friendship and peace. when cambina came to the wooden barrier that shut off the watchers from the field where the knights had fought, she softly struck the rail with her wand. it flew open, and the lions dashed in with cambina's glittering chariot. she got out of her chariot and ran up to the two knights, and begged them to fight no more. but they would not listen, and began to fight again. then she knelt on the bloodstained ground, and besought them with tears to lay down their swords. when they still went fiercely on, she smote them lightly with her magic wand. their swords fell to the ground, and while they stared at each other in wonder, cambina handed them her golden cup. they were so hot and thirsty that they gladly drank. and, as they drank, all anger went out of their hearts, and love for each other took its place. they kissed, and shook hands, and vowed that they would be friends for evermore. when the people saw this, they shouted and cheered for gladness till all the air rang. and canacee ran down from her platform and kissed cambina, who had stopped the fearful fight and made canacee's brother and her lover friends. then the trumpets sounded, and cambina took canacee into her chariot beside her, and the lions galloped off to canacee's palace. and all the people thought how beautiful were these two lovely ladies, whose faces were fresh as morning roses and radiant with happiness. cambell and canacee gave a great feast that lasted for days and days. and triamond married canacee, and cambell married cambina, and they all lived happily and peacefully ever afterwards. vii marinell, the sea-nymph's son sometimes when the sun is rising on the sea and making the waves all pink and gold, the sailors whose boats are sailing out of the grey night fancy that they see fair ladies floating on the white crests of the waves, or drying their long yellow hair in the warm sunshine. sometimes poets who wander on the beach at night, or sit on the high cliffs where the sea-pinks grow, see those beautiful ladies playing in the silver moonlight. and musicians hear them singing, singing, singing, till their songs silence the sea-birds harsh cry, and their voices blend with the swish and the rush of the sea and the moan of the waves on the shore. the sailors tell stories of them, and the musicians put their songs into their hearts. but the poets write poems about them, and say:-- 'there are no ladies so fair to see as the nymphs whose father is a king. nereus is their father, and they are the nereids. their home is under the sea; as blue as the sea are their eyes. their long, long hair is yellow like sand. their silver voices are like lutes, and they steal men's hearts away.' long, long ago, one of these nymphs became the wife of a brave knight, who found her sleeping amongst the rocks and loved her for her beauty. cymoënt was her name, and the other nymphs called her cymoënt the black browed, because dark lashes and eyebrows shaded her sea-blue eyes. the knight and the nymph had a son as strong and as brave as his father, and as beautiful as his mother, and cymoënt called him marinell. 'my son must be richer than any of the knights who live on the land,' said cymoënt to the king her father. 'give him riches.' so the sea-king told the waves to cast on the shore riches that they had stolen from all the ships that had ever been wrecked. and the waves strewed the strand with gold and amber and ivory and pearls, and every sort of jewel and precious stone. the shore sparkled and shone with marinell's riches, and no one dared touch them, for marinell had beaten a hundred knights in battle, and fought every man who dared venture to ride along these sands. cymoënt feared that as marinell had won so many fights, he might grow reckless and get killed. now neptune, who was king of all the seas, had a shepherd who could tell what was going to happen in the future. 'tell me,' cymoënt said to him, 'how long my marinell will live, and from what dangers he must take most care to keep away.' 'do not let him go near any women,' said the shepherd of the seas. 'i can see that a woman will either hurt him very much, or kill him altogether.' so cymoënt warned her son never to go near any woman. and many ladies were sad because handsome marinell would not speak to them, and the lovely lady florimell was the saddest of all. one day as marinell proudly rode along the glittering sand, he saw a knight in armour that shone as brightly as the gold that the little waves had kissed. 'i am lord of the golden strand!' said marinell angrily, 'how dare the knight ride on the shore that is all my own!' he rode furiously up, and told the knight to fly. but the knight was britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a man's heart. she scorned his proud words, and smote him with her magic spear. and britomart rode away, leaving marinell lying as if he were dead. his red blood stained his armour, and reddened the little waves that crept up to see what was wrong. the water washed over his feet. 'he is asleep,' said the little waves. 'we will wake him.' but marinell lay cold and still, and the blood dripped and dripped on to the golden sand. then the waves grew frightened, and the sea-birds screamed, '_marinell is dead, is dead_ ... _dead_ ... _dead_....' so the news came to his mother cymoënt. cymoënt and her sisters were playing by a pond near the sea, round which grew nodding yellow daffodils. they were picking the daffodils and making them into garlands for their fair heads, when they heard the message of the birds, '_marinell is dead, dead, dead_.' cymoënt tore the daffodils from her hair, and fell on the ground in a faint. all her sister nymphs wailed and wept and threw their gay flowers away, and cymoënt lay with white face, and her head on the poor, torn daffodils. [illustration: but the knight was britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a man's heart (page )] at last she came out of her faint, and asked for her chariot, and all her sisters sent for their chariots too. a team of dolphins drew the chariot of cymoënt, and they were trained so well that they cut through the water as swiftly as swallows, and did not even leave a track of white foam behind. other fishes drew the chariots of the other nymphs, and neptune, king of all the seas, was so sorry for the sorrow of cymoënt and the other nereids, that he told his waves to be gentle, and let them pass peacefully to where marinell lay on the golden strand. when they got near where he lay, they got out of their chariots, for they feared that the dolphins and other fishes might get bruised and hurt by the rocks and pebbles on the shore. and with their strong white arms they swiftly swam to where marinell lay, still and silent in his blood. when cymoënt saw her son's white face, she fainted again, and when she had recovered from her faint, she cried and moaned so bitterly, that even the hard rocks nearly wept for sorrow. she and her sisters carefully looked at marinell's wound, and one of them, who knew much about healing, felt his pulse, and found that a little life was still left in him. with their soft, silver-fringed mantles they wiped the blood from the wound, and poured in soothing balm and nectar, and bound it up. then they strewed cymoënt's chariot with flowers, and lifted marinell gently up, and laid him in it. and the dolphins, knowing to go quietly and swiftly, swam off with cymoënt and marinell to cymoënt's bower under the sea. deep in the bottom of the sea was the bower. it was built of hollow waves, heaped high, like stormy clouds. in it they laid marinell, and hastily sent for the doctor of all the folk under the sea, to come and try to cure the dreadful wound. so clever and so wise was this doctor, that soon the nymphs could laugh and sport again because marinell was well. but cymoënt was afraid that some other harm might come to him if he went on to the land. so she made him stay beside her, under the sea, until marinell grew tired of doing nothing. he longed to gallop away on his horse, his sword clanking by his side, and see the green woods and grey towers of the land, instead of idling away the hours in a bower under the sea, where there was nothing for him to do, but to watch the fishes of silver and blue and red, as they chased each other through the forests of seaweed. one day two great rivers were married, and all the sea-folk went to the wedding. a feast was given in the house of the shepherd of the seas, and while cymoënt and the other nymphs were there, marinell wandered about outside. for because marinell's father had been a knight and not one of the sea-folk, marinell might not eat the food they ate. while the feast went gaily on, marinell heard piteous cries coming from under a black cliff. and when he listened, he knew that the voice was the voice of florimell. the wicked old shepherd of the seas had found her tossing on the waves in a little boat, and had taken her home to his deep-down caves to make her his wife. but florimell did not love the old man. she loved only marinell. so nothing that the shepherd could do would make florimell say that she would marry him. at last, in a rage, he shut her up in a gloomy place under a dark rock, where no sunshine ever came. 'she will soon grow tired of the dark and the loneliness,' he thought, 'and then she will give in, and become my wife.' but florimell would not give in. she was crying and sobbing when marinell came to the rock, and he heard her say, 'marinell, marinell, all this i suffer for love of thee.' marinell stood still and listened. then he heard her say:-- 'in spite of all this sorrow, yet will i never of my love repent, but joy that for his sake i suffered prisonment.' then she gave yet more pitiful sobs, for she was very sad and cold and hungry. yet always she would say again, between her sobs, 'i will never love any man but marinell.' now marinell had never in all his life truly loved any one. but when he heard florimell's piteous voice, and knew how she loved him, and how much she had suffered for his sake, his heart, that had been so hard, grew soft. 'poor little maid,' he said to himself, 'poor, beautiful little florimell.' no sooner had he begun to love florimell, than he began to think of a plan by which to save her from the bad old shepherd. at first, he thought he would ask the shepherd to let her go. but he knew that that would be no good. then he thought that he would fight with the shepherd, and win her in that way. but that plan he also gave up. 'i will break into her prison, and steal her away,' he thought next. but he had no boat, and the sea flowed all round the rock, so that it was not possible. while he still thought and planned, the marriage-feast came to an end, and marinell had to go home with his mother. he looked so miserable that no one would have taken him for a wedding-guest. each day that passed after the wedding found him looking more and more sad. he could not eat nor sleep for thinking of florimell, shut up in a dreary dungeon from which he could not free her. for want of sleep and food, and because he was so unhappy, marinell grew ill. he was so weak that he could not rise, and his mother, cymoënt, was greatly distressed. 'the wound he got from britomart cannot be rightly healed,' she said. so she sent for the wise doctor of the seas. 'the old wound is quite whole,' said the doctor. 'this is a new pain which i cannot understand.' then cymoënt sent for a doctor who was so wise and so great that he was chief of all the doctors on the land. when he had examined marinell he said, 'the name of this illness is love.' then cymoënt begged marinell to tell her which of the sea-nymphs it was that he loved. 'whoever she is that you love,' she said, 'i shall help you to gain her for your wife.' so marinell told his mother that it was no nymph of the sea that had given his heart a deeper wound than ever britomart's spear had dealt. 'i love florimell,' he said, 'and she lies, a dreary prisoner, in the darkest cave of the herd of the seas.' at first cymoënt was sorry, for she did not wish her son to wed a maiden from the land. but when she knew how much marinell loved florimell, she went to neptune, the king of all the seas, as he sat on his throne, his three-pronged mace in his hand, and his long hair dripping with brine. to him she told all the tale of marinell and florimell and the wicked old shepherd. and neptune wrote a royal warrant, and sealed it with the seal of the sea gods, commanding his shepherd to give up florimell at once to cymoënt the sea-nymph. thankfully cymoënt took the warrant, and swiftly swam to the shepherd's sea-caves. the shepherd was very angry, but all the sea-folk had to obey neptune, so he sulkily opened the prison door and let florimell go free. when the black-browed cymoënt took hold of the little white hand of the maiden her son loved, and looked on her lovely face, she was no longer sorry that marinell did not wish to marry a sea-nymph. for no maiden in the sea was as beautiful or as sweet as florimell. she led florimell to her bower, where marinell lay so pale and weak and sad. and when marinell saw florimell standing blushing beside him, her hand in his mother's, all his sadness went away and his strength came back, and the pain in his heart was cured. and if you listen some night when the stars are out, and the moon has made a silver path on the sea, you will hear the little waves that swish on the shore softly murmuring a little song. and perhaps, if your ears are very quick, and the big waves' thunder does not drown the sound of their melody, you may hear them whispering the names of two happy lovers, florimell and marinell. viii florimell and the witch in fairyland, where all the knights are brave, and all the ladies beautiful, the lady who was once the most beautiful of all was called florimell. many knights loved florimell and wished to marry her. but florimell loved only one, and he was marinell, the son of a sea-nymph and a fairy knight and marinell loved no one, not even florimell. marinell was a bold knight, who had no sooner fought one fight than he was ready for another. one day there was brought to the court news of his latest fight. britomart, the maiden who feared no one, and who wore man's armour and carried a magic spear, had fought with marinell, and marinell was dead. so said they who brought the news. 'what will florimell do?' whispered the court ladies, one to the other. and all the knights were sad at heart for beautiful florimell. when florimell was told what had befallen marinell, she rose up from where she sat. 'i go to find him,' she said. 'living or dead, i will find marinell.' florimell had long, long golden hair. florimell's eyes were blue as the sky, and her cheeks were pink, like the sweetest rose in the garden. a circlet of gold and jewels crowned her head. she mounted her snow-white palfrey with its trappings of gold, and rode away through the green woods to look for marinell. four days she rode, but she did not find him. on the fourth day, as she passed through a lonely forest, a wicked robber saw her. he rode after her with his heavy boar-spear, and drove his spurs into the sides of his tired horse till the blood ran down. when florimell saw him, she made her palfrey gallop. off it flew, like the wind, with the thud of the other horse's hoofs and the crash of branches to urge it on. florimell's golden hair flew behind her, till it looked like the shining track of a shooting star. her face was white, and her frightened eyes shone like crystal. some knights who saw her flash through the trees on her white palfrey, like a streak of light, thought that she must be a spirit. [illustration: florimell's golden hair flew behind her (page )] but when they saw the ugly robber on his panting horse, they knew that he was real enough. they rode hard after him, and frightened him so much that he hid himself in the thickest part of the forest. florimell passed the knights without seeing them. and even after the robber had ceased to follow her, she fancied that she heard his rough voice and the thud of his horse's hoofs, and made her white palfrey go faster and yet more fast. at last, as the palfrey tossed its head in its stride, it jerked the reins from out her tired little hands, and went on where it pleased. all through the night they fled. the wild deer ran, startled, before them, and all the other beasts of the woods wondered at the sight of a white palfrey that galloped where it would under the grey boughs of the forest, carrying a lady whose hair gleamed like gold in the light of the stars. when rosy dawn had come, the horse stopped at last, too tired to do anything but stand and pant with foam-flecked mouth and heaving sides. then florimell got off his back and coaxed him slowly on. when they had wandered thus for hours, they came to a hill that shaded a thickly wooded valley. over the tops of the tall trees in the valley florimell saw a little blue curl of smoke. glad at heart to think of finding a shelter and resting-place for her horse and herself, she led her palfrey towards it. in a gloomy glen she found a little cottage built of sticks and reeds and turf. a wicked, ugly old witch and her wicked, ugly son lived in this hut. when florimell came to the door, the old woman was sitting on the dusty floor, busy with some of her evil magic. when she looked up and saw beautiful florimell, with her golden hair, and her face like a drooping white lily, she got a great fright. for she thought that florimell was a good spirit come to punish her for all the bad things she had done. but florimell, with tears trickling down and making her face look like a lily in the dew, begged her, in gentle, pleading words, to give her shelter. and so gentle and beautiful and sorrowful was florimell, that, for the first time in the whole of her wicked life, the old witch felt some pity in her cruel heart. she told florimell not to cry, and bade her sit down and rest. so florimell sat down on the dusty floor and rested, as a little bird rests after a storm. she tried to tidy her robes that were rent by the branches and briars through which she had passed, and she smoothed her hair, and arranged her sparkling jewels. the old hag sat and stared at her, and could not say a word, so much did she marvel at florimell's wondrous beauty. when it was midday, the witch's son came in. at the sight of florimell he was as frightened as his mother had been, and stared in wonder and in fear. but florimell spoke to them both so gently and so kindly that soon they no longer feared her. she stayed with them in the wretched little hut for some time. and in that time the witch's son came to love her, and to long to have her for his wife. he tried to do everything that he thought would please her. he would bring her from the woods the rosiest of the wild apples, and the prettiest of the wildflowers he made into garlands for her hair. he caught young birds and taught them to whistle the tunes she liked, and young squirrels he caught and tamed and gave to her. but florimell feared both him and his wicked old mother. when her palfrey had rested, and grazed on the grass in the glen until it was quite strong once more, at daybreak one morning she put its golden trappings on again and rode away. she shivered at each shadow, and trembled at each sound, because she was so afraid that the witch or her son would follow her. but these two wicked people slept until it was broad daylight and florimell was far away. when they awoke and found her gone, they were furiously angry, and the witch's son was so frantic that he scratched his own face and bit himself, and tore at his rough long hair. 'i shall bring her back, or else kill her!' said the witch. then she went to a dark cave, and called out of it a horrible beast like a hyena. its back was speckled with a thousand colours, and it could run faster than any other beast. 'fetch florimell back to me!' said the witch, 'or else tear her in pieces!' off the beast rushed, and before long it saw florimell on her white horse riding through the trees. there was no need to make the palfrey gallop when it saw the hideous beast with long, soft strides coming swiftly after it. the white palfrey went as fast as a race-horse, but the beast went as fast as the wind. as they came out of the forest, the beast's hot breath was close behind florimell. and by that time her horse was so tired that its pace slackened. they had come to where there were no more trees, and in front of them lay yellow sand, and a long, long stretch of blue-green sea. when florimell saw the sea, she leaped from her tired horse and ran and ran. 'i had rather be drowned,' she thought, 'than be killed by that loathsome monster.' now, an old fisherman had been drying his nets on the sand, and while they dried he slept in the bottom of his little boat, that lay heaving gently up and down in the shallows. when florimell saw this boat, she ran towards it and jumped in, and, with an oar, pushed it off into deeper water. the beast got to the water's edge just too late, for it was afraid of the sea and dared not follow her. in a rage it fell upon the white palfrey and tore it in pieces, and was eating it when a good knight who knew florimell passed that way. he knew that the white horse was florimell's, so he attacked the beast, and cut it and struck it so furiously with his sword that all its strength was beaten out of it and he could easily have killed it. but the knight thought that he would rather catch the strange beast and lead it home with him. lying on the sand near the dead white palfrey, he saw a golden girdle that sparkled with jewels, and that he had seen worn by florimell. with this girdle he bound the beast, and led it after him like a dog. as he led it, he met a wicked giantess, and while he fought with her the beast escaped and ran away back to the witch's hut. when the witch saw florimell's jewelled girdle she was glad, for she thought that the beast must have killed florimell. she ran with it to her son, but the sight of it, without florimell, made him so angry that he tried to kill both the beast and his mother. the witch was so frightened that she set all her magic to work, to try to comfort her son. with snow and mercury and wax she made an image as like florimell as she could. its cheeks were rosy, like florimell's, and she took two little burning lamps and put them in silver sockets, so that they looked just like florimell's bright eyes. her hair she made of the very finest golden wire. she dressed the image in some clothes that florimell, in her flight, had left behind her, and round its waist she fastened florimell's jewelled girdle. then she put a wicked fairy inside the image, and told him to do his very best to act and to talk and to walk like florimell. this image she then led to her son, and he thought it was the real florimell come back, and was delighted. the false florimell was not afraid of him as the real florimell had been, and would walk in the woods with him, and listen, quite pleased, to all that he had to say. but as they were in the forest one day, a bad knight saw them, and thought the false florimell so beautiful that he seized her and rode away with her, and left the witch's son more sad and angry than ever. when the real florimell had escaped from the beast, the little boat that she pushed off from the shore went gaily sailing onward and onward with the tide. they were far out at sea when the old fisherman awoke. he got a great fright when he found himself far from the shore, and with a lovely lady beside him. but he was a very bad old man, and when he saw florimell's fine jewels and beautiful clothes he thought he would rob her. he knocked her down into the bottom of his boat amongst the fishes' scales, and might have killed her, had not florimell screamed and screamed for help. there was no ship near, and the waves and the sea-birds could not help her. but it chanced that the shepherd of all the flocks in the sea was driving his chariot that way. he was an old man with long white hair and beard. sometimes on a stormy day one may see him far out at sea, as he drives his flocks that look from far away like snowy froth and foam. when the shepherd saw the wicked fisherman struggling with florimell, he beat the old robber so hard with his staff that there soon was very little life left in him. then he lifted florimell, all tearful and trembling, into his chariot. when she could only cry, he gently kissed her. but his lips were frosty cold, and icicles from his long white beard dropped on to her breast and made her shiver. he took her to his home in a hollow rock at the bottom of the sea, and he asked her to be his wife. 'i cannot marry you,' said florimell. 'i do not love you. my only love is marinell.' then the cunning old shepherd by magic made himself look like a fairy knight, and thought that florimell would love him. 'i do not love you. i love marinell,' still was florimell's answer. he then tried to frighten florimell and make her marry him, whether she would or not. he turned himself into dreadful shapes--giants, and all sorts of animals and monsters. he went inside the waves, and made terrifying storms rage. but nothing that he might do would make florimell consent to marry him. at last he imprisoned her in a dark cavern. 'she will soon tire of that, and then she will marry me,' said he to himself. but florimell said the more, 'i love only marinell. i am glad to suffer, because i suffer for marinell's dear sake.' she might have died there, and been buried under the sea-flowers of scarlet and green, and had the gay little fishes dart over her grave, and none might ever have known. but, by happy chance, marinell came that way. he heard her voice coming out of her prison far beneath the sea, like the echo of a sad song, and suddenly he knew that he loved her. the sea-nymph, his mother, told neptune, king of the seas, that his shepherd had imprisoned a beautiful maiden in his darkest cave, and begged him to set florimell free, that she might become marinell's wife. so florimell was set free at last, and all her troubles were ended. marinell took her away from the kingdom under the sea back to fairyland, and they were married in a castle by the golden strand. every beautiful lady and every brave knight in fairyland was there. they had tournaments every day, and each knight fought for the lady he thought the most beautiful and loved the best. marinell was victor in every fight but one, and in this he was beaten by another brave knight. this knight had on his shield a device of a blazing sun on a golden field. when he had fought and won the prize, this shield was stolen from him by the wicked knight who had run away with the false florimell. no one could see the faces of the knights, for their helmets covered them. so when the wicked knight came forward, carrying the blazing shield, and pretended that he had won the prize, florimell, who was queen of the revels, handed him the victor's garland, and praised him for having fought so well. 'i did not fight for you!' roughly answered the knight. 'i would not fight for you! i fight for one more beautiful.' florimell blushed for shame, but before any one could answer him, the knight drew forward the false florimell and threw back her veil. and even marinell could not tell that she was not his own beautiful bride that he loved so dearly, so exactly like the real florimell had the witch made the image. just then the knight whose shield had been stolen pushed through the crowd. 'you false coward with your borrowed plumes!' he cried. 'where is the sword you pretend that you fought with? where are your wounds?' with that he showed his own bloody sword, and his own bleeding wounds, and every one knew that the wicked knight had lied when he said that it was he who had won the fight. 'this is not the real florimell!' said the brave knight of the blazing shield, pointing at the image. 'it is a wicked fairy, who is a fit mate for this base coward. bring forward florimell the bride, and let us see them side by side!' so florimell, blushing till her face looked like a nosegay of roses and lilies, was led forward, and stood beside the image of herself. but no sooner did she come near the image, than the image melted away, and vanished altogether. nothing of it was left but the girdle of gold and jewels that florimell had lost on the day she escaped from the witch's hut. and this the brave knight picked up, and clasped round florimell's waist. the wicked knight had his armour taken from him, and was beaten until he ran howling away. and florimell, the fairest lady in all fairyland, lived happily ever after with her gallant husband, marinell, the lord of the golden strand. printed in great britain by thomas nelson and sons, ltd. demonology and devil-lore by moncure daniel conway, m.a. b. d. of divinity college, harvard university member of the anthropological institute, london with numerous illustrations new york henry holt and company preface. three friars, says a legend, hid themselves near the witch sabbath orgies that they might count the devils; but the chief of these, discovering the friars, said--'reverend brothers, our army is such that if all the alps, their rocks and glaciers, were equally divided among us, none would have a pound's weight.' this was in one alpine valley. any one who has caught but a glimpse of the world's walpurgis night, as revealed in mythology and folklore, must agree that this courteous devil did not overstate the case. any attempt to catalogue the evil spectres which have haunted mankind were like trying to count the shadows cast upon the earth by the rising sun. this conviction has grown upon the author of this work at every step in his studies of the subject. in i contributed, as one of the american 'tracts for the times,' a pamphlet entitled 'the natural history of the devil.' probably the chief value of that essay was to myself, and this in that its preparation had revealed to me how pregnant with interest and importance was the subject selected. subsequent researches in the same direction, after i had come to reside in europe, revealed how slight had been my conception of the vastness of the domain upon which that early venture was made. in , while preparing a series of lectures for the royal institution on demonology, it appeared to me that the best i could do was to print those lectures with some notes and additions; but after they were delivered there still remained with me unused the greater part of materials collected in many countries, and the phantasmal creatures which i had evoked would not permit me to rest from my labours until i had dealt with them more thoroughly. the fable of thor's attempt to drink up a small spring, and his failure because it was fed by the ocean, seems aimed at such efforts as mine. but there is another aspect of the case which has yielded me more encouragement. these phantom hosts, however unmanageable as to number, when closely examined, present comparatively few types; they coalesce by hundreds; from being at first overwhelmed by their multiplicity, the classifier finds himself at length beating bushes to start a new variety. around some single form--the physiognomy, it may be, of hunger or disease, of lust or cruelty--ignorant imagination has broken up nature into innumerable bits which, like mirrors of various surface, reflect the same in endless sizes and distortions; but they vanish if that central fact be withdrawn. in trying to conquer, as it were, these imaginary monsters, they have sometimes swarmed and gibbered around me in a mad comedy which travestied their tragic sway over those who believed in their reality. gargoyles extended their grin over the finest architecture, cornices coiled to serpents, the very words of speakers started out of their conventional sense into images that tripped my attention. only as what i believed right solutions were given to their problems were my sphinxes laid; but through this psychological experience it appeared that when one was so laid his or her legion disappeared also. long ago such phantasms ceased to haunt my nerves, because i discovered their unreality; i am now venturing to believe that their mythologic forms cease to haunt my studies, because i have found out their reality. why slay the slain? such may be the question that will arise in the minds of many who see this book. a scotch song says, 'the devil is dead, and buried at kirkcaldy;' if so, he did not die until he had created a world in his image. the natural world is overlaid by an unnatural religion, breeding bitterness around simplest thoughts, obstructions to science, estrangements not more reasonable than if they resulted from varying notions of lunar figures,--all derived from the devil-bequeathed dogma that certain beliefs and disbeliefs are of infernal instigation. dogmas moulded in a fossil demonology make the foundation of institutions which divert wealth, learning, enterprise, to fictitious ends. it has not, therefore, been mere intellectual curiosity which has kept me working at this subject these many years, but an increasing conviction that the sequelæ of such superstitions are exercising a still formidable influence. when father delaporte lately published his book on the devil, his bishop wrote--'reverend father, if every one busied himself with the devil as you do, the kingdom of god would gain by it.' identifying the kingdom here spoken of as that of truth, it has been with a certain concurrence in the bishop's sentiment that i have busied myself with the work now given to the public. contents part i. chapter i. dualism. origin of deism--evolution from the far to the near--illustrations from witchcraft--the primitive pantheism--the dawn of dualism chapter ii. the genesis of demons. their good names euphemistic--their mixed character--illustrations: beelzebub, loki--demon-germs--the knowledge of good and evil--distinction between demon and devil chapter iii. degradation. the degradation of deities--indicated in names--legends of their fall--incidental signs of the divine origin of demons and devils chapter iv. the abgott. the ex-god--deities demonised by conquest--theological animosity-- illustration from the avesta--devil-worship an arrested deism-- sheik adi--why demons were painted ugly--survivals of their beauty chapter v. classification. the obstructions of man--the twelve chief classes--modifications of particular forms for various functions--theological demons part ii. chapter i. hunger. hunger-demons--kephn--miru--kagura--ráhu the hindu sun-devourer-- the earth monster at pelsall--a franconian custom--sheitan as moon-devourer--hindu offerings to the dead--ghoul--goblin-- vampyres--leanness of demons--old scotch custom--the origin of sacrifices chapter ii. heat. demons of fire--agni--asmodeus--prometheus--feast of fire--moloch --tophet--genii of the lamp--bel-fires--hallowe'en--negro superstitions--chinese fire-god--volcanic and incendiary demons-- mangaian fire-demon--demons' fear of water chapter iii. cold. descent of ishtar into hades--bardism--baldur--herakles--christ-- survivals of the frost giant in slavonic and other countries-- the clavie--the frozen hell--the northern abode of demons--north side of churches chapter iv. elements. a scottish munasa--rudra--siva's lightning eye--the flaming sword--limping demons--demons of the storm--helios, elias, perun--thor arrows--the bob-tailed dragon--whirlwind--japanese thunder god--christian survivals--jinni--inundations--noah--nik, nicholas, old nick--nixies--hydras--demons of the danube--tides --survivals in russia and england chapter v. animals. animal demons distinguished--trivial sources of mythology-- hedgehog--fox--transmigrations in japan--horses bewitched-- rats--lions--cats--the dog--goethe's horror of dogs--superstitions of the parsees, people of travancore, and american negroes, red indians, &c.--cynocephaloi--the wolf--traditions of the nez perces --fenris--fables--the boar--the bear--serpent--every animal power to harm demonised--horns chapter vi. enemies. aryas, dasyus, nagas--yakkhos--lycians--ethiopians--hirpini--polites--sosipolis-- were-wolves--goths and scythians--giants and dwarfs--berserkers-- britons--iceland--mimacs--gog and magog chapter vii. barrenness. indian famine and sun-spots--sun-worship--demon of the desert--the sphinx--egyptian plagues described by lepsius: locusts, hurricane, flood, mice, flies--the sheikh's ride--abaddon--set--typhon--the cain wind--seth--mirage--the desert eden--azazel--tawiscara and the wild-rose chapter viii. obstacles. mephistopheles on crags--emerson on monadnoc--ruskin on alpine peasants--holy and unholy mountains--the devil's pulpit-- montagnards--tarns--tenjo--t'ai-shan--apocatequil--tyrolese legends--rock ordeal--scylla and charybdis--scottish giants-- pontifex--devil's bridges--le géant yéous chapter ix. illusion. maya--natural treacheries--misleaders--glamour--lorelei--chinese mermaid--transformations--swan maidens--pigeon maidens--the seal-skin--nudity--teufelsee--gohlitsee--japanese siren--dropping cave--venusberg--godiva--will-o'-wisp--holy fräulein--the forsaken merman--the water-man--sea phantom--sunken treasures--suicide chapter x. darkness. shadows--night deities--kobolds--walpurgisnacht--night as abettor of evil-doers--nightmare--dreams--invisible foes--jacob and his phantom--nott--the prince of darkness--the brood of midnight--second-sight--spectres of souter fell--the moonshine vampyre--glamour--glam and grettir--a-story of dartmoor chapter xi. disease. the plague phantom--devil-dances--destroying angels--ahriman in astrology--saturn--satan and job--set--the fatal seven--yakseyo-- the singhalese pretraya--reeri--maha sohon--morotoo--luther on disease-demons--gopolu--madan--cattle-demon in russia--bihlweisen --the plough chapter xii. death. the vendetta of death--teoyaomiqui--demon of serpents--death on the pale horse--kali--war-gods--satan as death--death-beds-- thanatos--yama--yimi--towers of silence--alcestis--herakles, christ, and death--hell--salt--azraël--death and the cobbler-- dance of death--death as foe and as friend part iii. chapter i. decline of demons. the holy tree of travancore--the growth of demons in india, and their decline--the nepaul iconoclast--moral man and unmoral nature--man's physical and mental migrations--heine's 'gods in exile'--the goban saor--master smith--a greek caricature of the gods--the carpenter v. deity and devil--extermination of the were-wolf--refuges of demons--the giants reduced to little people--deities and demons returning to nature chapter ii. generalisation of demons. the demons' bequest to their conquerors--nondescripts--exaggerations of tradition--saurian theory of dragons--the dragon not primitive in mythology--monsters of egyptian, iranian, vedic, and jewish mythologies--turner's dragon--della bella--the conventional dragon chapter iii. the serpent. the beauty of the serpent--emerson on ideal forms--michelet's thoughts on the viper's head--unique characters of the serpent--the monkey's horror of snakes--the serpent protected by superstition--human defencelessness against its subtle powers--dubufe's picture of the fall of man chapter iv. the worm. an african serpent-drama in america--the veiled serpent--the ark of the covenant--aaron's rod--the worm--an episode on the dii involuti--the serapes--the bambino at rome--serpent-transformations chapter v. apophis. the naturalistic theory of apophis--the serpent of time--epic of the worm--the asp of melite--vanquishers of time--nachash-beriach --the serpent-spy--treading on serpents chapter vi. the serpent in india. the kankato na--the vedic serpents not worshipful--ananta and sesha--the healing serpent--the guardian of treasures--miss buckland's theory--primitive rationalism--underworld plutocracy--rain and lightning--vritra--history of the word 'ahi'--the adder--zohak--a teutonic laokoon chapter vii. the basilisk. the serpent's gem--the basilisk's eye--basiliscus mitratus--house-snakes in russia and germany--king-snakes--heraldic dragon--henry iii.--melusina--the laidley worm--victorious dragons--pendragon--merlin and vortigern--medicinal dragons chapter viii. the dragon's eye. the eye of evil--turner's dragons--cloud-phantoms--paradise and the snake--prometheus and jove--art and nature--dragon forms: anglo-saxon, italian, egyptian, greek, german--the modern conventional dragon chapter ix. the combat. the pre-munchausenite world--the colonial dragon--io's journey--medusa--british dragons--the communal dragon--savage saviours--a mimac helper--the brutal dragon--woman protected--the saint of the mikados chapter x. the dragon-slayer. demi-gods--alcestis--herakles--the ghilghit fiend--incarnate deliverer of ghilghit--a dardistan madonna--the religion of atheism--resuscitation of dragons--st. george and his dragon--emerson and ruskin on george--saintly allies of the dragon chapter xi. the dragon's breath. medusa--phenomena of recurrence--the brood of echidna and their survival--behemoth and leviathan--the mouth of hell--the lambton worm--ragnar--the lambton doom--the worm's orthodoxy--the serpent, superstition, and science chapter xii. fate. doré's 'love and fate'--moira and moiræ--the 'fates' of Æschylus--divine absolutism surrendered--jove and typhon--commutation of the demon's share--popular fatalism--theological fatalism--fate and necessity--deification of will--metaphysics, past and present part iv. chapter i. diabolism. dragon and devil distinguished--dragons' wings--war in heaven-- expulsion of serpents--dissolution of the dragon--theological origin of the devil--ideal and actual--devil dogma--debasement of ideal persons--transmigration of phantoms chapter ii. the second best. respect for the devil--primitive atheism--idealisation--birth of new gods--new gods diabolised--compromise between new gods and old--foreign deities degraded--their utilisation chapter iii. ahriman, the divine devil. mr. irving's impersonation of superstition--revolution against pious privilege--doctrine of 'merits'--saintly immorality in india--a pantheon turned inferno--zendavesta on good and evil-- parsî mythology--the combat of ahriman with ormuzd--optimism-- parsî eschatology--final restoration of ahriman chapter iv. viswámitra, the theocratic devil. priestcraft and pessimism--an aryan tetzel and his luther--brahman frogs--evolution of the sacerdotal saint--viswámitra the accuser of virtue--the tamil passion-play 'harischandra'--ordeal of goblins--the martyr of truth--virtue triumphant over ceremonial 'merits'--harischandra and job chapter v. elohim and jehovah. deified power--giants and jehovah--jehovah's manifesto--the various elohim--two jehovahs and two tables--contradictions--detachment of the elohim from jehovah chapter vi. the consuming fire. the shekinah--jewish idols--attributes of the fiery and cruel elohim compared with those of the devil--the powers of evil combined under a head--continuity--the consuming fire spiritualised chapter vii. paradise and the serpent. herakles and athena in a holy picture--human significance of eden--the legend in genesis puzzling--silence of later books concerning it--its vedic elements--its explanation--episode of the mahábhárata--scandinavian variant--the name of adam--the story re-read--rabbinical interpretations chapter viii. eve. the fall of man--fall of gods--giants--prajápati and ráhu--woman and star-serpent in persia--meschia and meschiane--bráhman legends of the creation of man--the strength of woman--elohist and jehovist creations of man--the forbidden fruit--eve reappears as sara--abraham surrenders his wife to jehovah--the idea not sensual--abraham's circumcision--the evil name of woman--noah's wife--the temptation of abraham--rabbinical legends concerning eve--pandora--sentiment of the myth of eve chapter ix. lilith. madonnas--adam's first wife--her flight and doom--creation of devils--lilith marries samaël--tree of life--lilith's part in the temptation--her locks--lamia--bodeima--meschia and meschiane--amazons--maternity--rib-theory of woman--káli and durga--captivity of woman chapter x. war in heaven. the 'other'--tiamat, bohu, 'the deep'--ra and apophis--hathors --bel's combat--revolt in heaven--lilith--myth of the devil at the creation of light chapter xi. war on earth. the abode of devils--ketef--disorder--talmudic legends--the restless spirit--the fall of lucifer--asteria, hecate, lilith--the dragon's triumph--a gipsy legend--cædmon's poem of the rebellious angels--milton's version--the puritans and prince rupert--bel as ally of the dragon--a 'mystery' in marionettes--european hells chapter xii. strife. hebrew god of war--samaël--the father's blessing and curse-- esau--edom--jacob and the phantom--the planet mars--tradesman and huntsman--'the devil's dream' chapter xiii. barbaric aristocracy. jacob, the 'impostor'--the barterer--esau, the 'warrior'--barbarian dukes--trade and war--reconciliation of jacob and esau--their ghosts--legend of iblis--pagan warriors of europe--russian hierarchy of hell chapter xiv. job and the divider. hebrew polytheism--problem of evil--job's disbelief in a future life--the divider's realm--salted sacrifices--theory of orthodoxy--job's reasoning--his humour--impartiality of fortune between the evil and good--agnosticism of job--elihu's eclecticism--jehovah of the whirlwind--heresies of job--rabbinical legend of job--universality of the legend chapter xv. satan. public prosecutors--satan as accuser--english devil-worshipper --conversion by terror--satan in the old testament--the trial of joshua--sender of plagues--satan and serpent--portrait of satan --scapegoat of christendom--catholic 'sight of hell'--the ally of priesthoods chapter xvi. religious despotism. pharaoh and herod--zoroaster's mother--ahriman's emissaries--kansa and krishna--emissaries of kansa--astyages and cyrus--zohák--bel and the christian chapter xvii. the prince of this world. temptations--birth of buddha--mara--temptation of power--asceticism and luxury--mara's menaces--appearance of the buddha's vindicator--ahriman tempts zoroaster--satan and christ--criticism of strauss--jewish traditions--hunger--variants chapter xviii. trial of the great. a 'morality' at tours--the 'st. anthony' of spagnoletto--bunyan's pilgrim--milton on christ's temptation--an edinburgh saint and unitarian fiend--a haunted jewess--conversion by fever--limit of courage--woman and sorcery--luther and the devil--the ink-spot at wartburg--carlyle's interpretation--the cowled devil--carlyle's trial--in rue st. thomas d'enfer--the everlasting no--devil of vauvert--the latter-day conflict--new conditions--the victory of man--the scholar and the world chapter xix. the man of sin. hindu myth--gnostic theories--ophite scheme of redemption-- rabbinical traditions of primitive man--pauline pessimism--law of death--satan's ownership of man--redemption of the elect-- contemporary statements--baptism--exorcism--the 'new man's' food--eucharist--herbert spencer's explanation--primitive ideas--legends of adam and seth--adamites--a mormon 'mystery' of initiation chapter xx. the holy ghost. a hanover relic--mr. atkinson on the dove--the dove in the old testament--ecclesiastical symbol--judicial symbol--a vision of st. dunstan's--the witness of chastity--dove and serpent--the unpardonable sin--inexpiable sin among the jews--destructive power of jehovah--potency of the breath--third persons of trinities--pentecost--christian superstitions--mr. moody on the sin against the holy ghost--mysterious fear--idols of the cave chapter xxi. antichrist. the kali age--satan sifting simon--satan as angel of light-- epithets of antichrist--the cæsars--nero--sacraments imitated by pagans--satanic signs and wonders--jerome on antichrist-- armillus--al dajjail--luther on mohammed--'mawmet'--satan 'god's ape'--mediæval notions--witches' sabbath--an infernal trinity--serpent of sins--antichrist popes--luther as antichrist --modern notions of antichrist chapter xxii. the pride of life. the curse of iblis--samaël as democrat--his vindication by christ and paul--asmodäus--history of the name--aschmedai of the jews--book of tobit--doré's 'triumph of christianity'--aucassin and nicolette--asmodeus in the convent--the asmodeus of le sage--mephistopheles--blake's 'marriage of heaven and hell'--the devil and the artists--sádi's vision of satan--arts of the devil--suspicion of beauty--earthly and heavenly mansions--deacon versus devil chapter xxiii. the curse on knowledge. a bishop on intellect--the bible on learning--the serpent and seth--a hebrew renaissance--spells--shelley at oxford-- book-burning--japanese ink-devil--book of cyprianus--devil's bible--red letters--dread of science--roger bacon--luther's devil--lutherans and science chapter xxiv. witchcraft. minor gods--saint and satyr--tutelaries--spells--early christianity and the poor--its doctrine as to pagan deities--mediæval devils--devils on the stage--an abbot's revelations--the fairer deities--oriental dreams and spirits--calls for nemesis--lilith and her children--neoplatonicism--astrology and alchemy--devil's college--shem-hammphorásch--apollonius of tyana--faustus--black art schools--compacts with the devil--blood covenant--spirit-seances in old times--the fairfax delusion--origin of its devil--witch, goat, and cat--confessions of witches--witchcraft in new england--witch trials--salem demonology--testing witches--witch trials in sweden--witch sabbath--mythological elements--carriers--scotch witches--the cauldron--vervain--rue--invocation of hecaté--factors of witch persecution--three centuries of massacre--würzburg horrors--last victims--modern spiritualism chapter xxv. faust and mephistopheles. mephisto and mephitis--the raven book--papal sorcery--magic seals--mephistopheles as dog--george sabellicus alias faustus--the faust myth--marlowe's 'faust'--good and evil angels--'el magico prodigioso'--cyprian and justina--klinger's 'faust'--satan's sermon--goethe's mephistopheles--his german characters--moral scepticism--devil's gifts--helena--redemption through art--defeat of mephistopheles chapter xxvi. the wild huntsman. the wild hunt--euphemisms--schimmelreiter--odinwald--pied piper --lyeshy--waldemar's hunt--palne hunter--king abel's hunt--lords of glorup--le grand veneur--robert le diable--arthur--hugo--herne --tregeagle--der freischütz--elijah's chariot--mahan bali--déhak --nimrod--nimrod's defiance of jehovah--his tower--robber knights --the devil in leipzig--olaf hunting pagans--hunting-horns--raven --boar--hounds--horse--dapplegrimm--sleipnir--horse-flesh--the mare chetiya--stags--st. hubert--the white lady--myths of mother rose--wodan hunting st. walpurga--friar eckhardt chapter xxvii. le bon diable. the devil repainted--satan a divine agent--st. orain's heresy--primitive universalism--father sinistrari--salvation of demons--mediæval sects--aquinas--his prayer for satan--popular antipathies--the devil's gratitude--devil defending innocence--devil against idle lords--the wicked ale-wife--pious offenders punished--anachronistic devils--devils turn to poems--devil's good advice--devil sticks to his word--his love of justice--charlemagne and the serpent--merlin--his prison of air--mephistopheles in heaven chapter xxviii. animalism. celsus on satan--ferocities of inward nature--the devil of lust--celibacy--blue beards--shudendozi--a lady in distress--bahirawa--the black prince--madana yaksenyo--fair fascinators--devil of jealousy--eve's jealousy--noah's wife--how satan entered the ark--shipwright's dirge--the second fall--the drunken curse--solomon's fall--cellar devils--gluttony--the vatican haunted--avarice--animalised devils--man-shaped animals chapter xxix. thoughts and interpretations part i. demonolatry. chapter i. dualism. origin of deism--evolution from the far to the near--illustrations from witchcraft--the primitive pantheism--the dawn of dualism. a college in the state of ohio has adopted for its motto the words 'orient thyself.' this significant admonition to western youth represents one condition of attaining truth in the science of mythology. through neglect of it the glowing personifications and metaphors of the east have too generally migrated to the west only to find it a medusa turning them to stone. our prosaic literalism changes their ideals to idols. the time has come when we must learn rather to see ourselves in them: out of an age and civilisation where we live in habitual recognition of natural forces we may transport ourselves to a period and region where no sophisticated eye looks upon nature. the sun is a chariot drawn by shining steeds and driven by a refulgent deity; the stars ascend and move by arbitrary power or command; the tree is the bower of a spirit; the fountain leaps from the urn of a naiad. in such gay costumes did the laws of nature hold their carnival until science struck the hour for unmasking. the costumes and masks have with us become materials for studying the history of the human mind, but to know them we must translate our senses back into that phase of our own early existence, so far as is consistent with carrying our culture with us. without conceding too much to solar mythology, it may be pronounced tolerably clear that the earliest emotion of worship was born out of the wonder with which man looked up to the heavens above him. the splendours of the morning and evening; the azure vault, painted with frescoes of cloud or blackened by the storm; the night, crowned with constellations: these awakened imagination, inspired awe, kindled admiration, and at length adoration, in the being who had reached intervals in which his eye was lifted above the earth. amid the rapture of vedic hymns to these sublimities we meet sharp questionings whether there be any such gods as the priests say, and suspicion is sometimes cast on sacrifices. the forms that peopled the celestial spaces may have been those of ancestors, kings, and great men, but anterior to all forms was the poetic enthusiasm which built heavenly mansions for them; and the crude cosmogonies of primitive science were probably caught up by this spirit, and consecrated as slowly as scientific generalisations now are. our modern ideas of evolution might suggest the reverse of this--that human worship began with things low and gradually ascended to high objects; that from rude ages, in which adoration was directed to stock and stone, tree and reptile, the human mind climbed by degrees to the contemplation and reverence of celestial grandeurs. but the accord of this view with our ideas of evolution is apparent only. the real progress seems here to have been from the far to the near, from the great to the small. it is, indeed, probably inexact to speak of the worship of stock and stone, weed and wort, insect and reptile, as primitive. there are many indications that such things were by no race considered intrinsically sacred, nor were they really worshipped until the origin of their sanctity was lost; and even now, ages after their oracular or symbolical character has been forgotten, the superstitions that have survived in connection with such insignificant objects point to an original association with the phenomena of the heavens. no religions could, at first glance, seem wider apart than the worship of the serpent and that of the glorious sun; yet many ancient temples are covered with symbols combining sun and snake, and no form is more familiar in egypt than the solar serpent standing erect upon its tail, with rays around its head. nor is this high relationship of the adored reptile found only in regions where it might have been raised up by ethnical combinations as the mere survival of a savage symbol. william craft, an african who resided for some time in the kingdom of dahomey, informed me of the following incident which he had witnessed there. the sacred serpents are kept in a grand house, which they sometimes leave to crawl in their neighbouring grounds. one day a negro from some distant region encountered one of these animals and killed it. the people learning that one of their gods had been slain, seized the stranger, and having surrounded him with a circle of brushwood, set it on fire. the poor wretch broke through the circle of fire and ran, pursued by the crowd, who struck him with heavy sticks. smarting from the flames and blows, he rushed into a river; but no sooner had he entered there than the pursuit ceased, and he was told that, having gone through fire and water, he was purified, and might emerge with safety. thus, even in that distant and savage region, serpent-worship was associated with fire-worship and river-worship, which have a wide representation in both aryan and semitic symbolism. to this day the orthodox israelites set beside their dead, before burial, the lighted candle and a basin of pure water. these have been associated in rabbinical mythology with the angels michael (genius of water) and gabriel (genius of fire); but they refer both to the phenomenal glories and the purifying effects of the two elements as reverenced by the africans in one direction and the parsees in another. not less significant are the facts which were attested at the witch-trials. it was shown that for their pretended divinations they used plants--as rue and vervain--well known in the ancient northern religions, and often recognised as examples of tree-worship; but it also appeared that around the cauldron a mock zodiacal circle was drawn, and that every herb employed was alleged to have derived its potency from having been gathered at a certain hour of the night or day, a particular quarter of the moon, or from some spot where sun or moon did or did not shine upon it. ancient planet-worship is, indeed, still reflected in the habit of village herbalists, who gather their simples at certain phases of the moon, or at certain of those holy periods of the year which conform more or less to the pre-christian festivals. these are a few out of many indications that the small and senseless things which have become almost or quite fetishes were by no means such at first, but were mystically connected with the heavenly elements and splendours, like the animal forms in the zodiac. in one of the earliest hymns of the rig-veda it is said--'this earth belongs to varuna (ouranos) the king, and the wide sky: he is contained also in this drop of water.' as the sky was seen reflected in the shining curve of a dew-drop, even so in the shape or colour of a leaf or flower, the transformation of a chrysalis, or the burial and resurrection of a scarabæus' egg, some sign could be detected making it answer in place of the typical image which could not yet be painted or carved. the necessities of expression would, of course, operate to invest the primitive conceptions and interpretations of celestial phenomena with those pictorial images drawn from earthly objects of which the early languages are chiefly composed. in many cases that are met in the most ancient hymns, the designations of exalted objects are so little descriptive of them, that we may refer them to a period anterior to the formation of that refined and complex symbolism by which primitive religions have acquired a representation in definite characters. the vedic comparisons of the various colours of the dawn to horses, or the rain-clouds to cows, denotes a much less mature development of thought than the fine observation implied in the connection of the forked lightning with the forked serpent-tongue and forked mistletoe, or symbolisation of the universe in the concentric folds of an onion. it is the presence of these more mystical and complex ideas in religions which indicate a progress of the human mind from the large and obvious to the more delicate and occult, and the growth of the higher vision which can see small things in their large relationships. although the exaltation in the vedas of varuna as king of heaven, and as contained also in a drop of water, is in one verse, we may well recognise an immense distance in time between the two ideas there embodied. the first represents that primitive pantheism which is the counterpart of ignorance. an unclassified outward universe is the reflection of a mind without form and void: it is while all within is as yet undiscriminating wonder that the religious vesture of nature will be this undefined pantheism. the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil has not yet been tasted. in some of the earlier hymns of the rig-veda, the maruts, the storm-deities, are praised along with indra, the sun; yama, king of death, is equally adored with the goddess of dawn. 'no real foe of yours is known in heaven, nor in earth.' 'the storms are thy allies.' such is the high optimism of sentences found even in sacred books which elsewhere mask the dawn of the dualism which ultimately superseded the harmony of the elemental powers. 'i create light and i create darkness, i create good and i create evil.' 'look unto yezdan, who causeth the shadow to fall.' but it is easy to see what must be the result when this happy family of sun-god and storm-god and fire-god, and their innumerable co-ordinate divinities, shall be divided by discord. when each shall have become associated with some earthly object or fact, he or she will appear as friend or foe, and their connection with the sources of human pleasure and pain will be reflected in collisions and wars in the heavens. the rebel clouds will be transformed to titans and dragons. the adored maruts will be no longer storm-heroes with unsheathed swords of lightning, marching as the retinue of indra, but fire-breathing monsters--vritras and ahis,--and the morning and evening shadows from faithful watch-dogs become the treacherous hell-hounds, like orthros and cerberus. the vehement antagonisms between animals and men and of tribe against tribe, will be expressed in the conception of struggles among gods, who will thus be classified as good or evil deities. this was precisely what did occur. the primitive pantheism was broken up: in its place the later ages beheld the universe as the arena of a tremendous conflict between good and evil powers, who severally, in the process of time, marshalled each and everything, from a world to a worm, under their flaming banners. chapter ii. the genesis of demons. their good names euphemistic--their mixed character--illustrations: beelzebub, loki--demon-germs--the knowledge of good and evil--distinction between demon and devil. the first pantheon of each race was built of intellectual speculations. in a moral sense, each form in it might be described as more or less demonic; and, indeed, it may almost be affirmed that religion, considered as a service rendered to superhuman beings, began with the propitiation of demons, albeit they might be called gods. man found that in the earth good things came with difficulty, while thorns and weeds sprang up everywhere. the evil powers seemed to be the strongest. the best deity had a touch of the demon in him. the sun is the most beneficent, yet he bears the sunstroke along with the sunbeam, and withers the blooms he calls forth. the splendour, the might, the majesty, the menace, the grandeur and wrath of the heavens and the elements were blended in these personifications, and reflected in the trembling adoration paid to them. the flattering names given to these powers by their worshippers must be interpreted by the costly sacrifices with which men sought to propitiate them. no sacrifice would have been offered originally to a purely benevolent power. the furies were called the eumenides, 'the well-meaning,' and there arises a temptation to regard the name as preserving the primitive meaning of the sanskrit original of erinyes, namely, saranyu, which signifies the morning light stealing over the sky. but the descriptions of the erinyes by the greek poets--especially of Æschylus, who pictures them as black, serpent-locked, with eyes dropping blood, and calls them hounds--show that saranyu as morning light, and thus the revealer of deeds of darkness, had gradually been degraded into a personification of the curse. and yet, while recognising the name eumenides as euphemistic, we may admire none the less the growth of that rationalism which ultimately found in the epithet a suggestion of the soul of good in things evil, and almost restored the beneficent sense of saranyu. 'i have settled in this place,' says athene in the 'eumenides' of Æschylus, 'these mighty deities, hard to be appeased; they have obtained by lot to administer all things concerning men. but he who has not found them gentle knows not whence come the ills of life.' but before the dread erinyes of homer's age had become the 'venerable goddesses' (semnai theai) of popular phrase in athens, or the eumenides of the later poet's high insight, piercing their gorgon form as portrayed by himself, they had passed through all the phases of human terror. cowering generations had tried to soothe the remorseless avengers by complimentary phrases. the worship of the serpent, originating in the same fear, similarly raised that animal into the region where poets could invest it with many profound and beautiful significances. but these more distinctly terrible deities are found in the shadowy border-land of mythology, from which we may look back into ages when the fear in which worship is born had not yet been separated into its elements of awe and admiration, nor the heaven of supreme forces divided into ranks of benevolent and malevolent beings; and, on the other hand, we may look forward to the ages in which the moral consciousness of man begins to form the distinctions between good and evil, right and wrong, which changes cosmogony into religion, and impresses every deity of the mind's creation to do his or her part in reflecting the physical and moral struggles of mankind. the intermediate processes by which the good and evil were detached, and advanced to separate personification, cannot always be traced, but the indications of their work are in most cases sufficiently clear. the relationship, for instance, between baal and baal-zebub cannot be doubted. the one represents the sun in his glory as quickener of nature and painter of its beauty, the other the insect-breeding power of the sun. baal-zebub is the fly-god. only at a comparatively recent period did the deity of the philistines, whose oracle was consulted by ahaziah ( kings i.), suffer under the reputation of being 'the prince of devils,' his name being changed by a mere pun to beelzebul (dung-god). it is not impossible that the modern egyptian mother's hesitation to disturb flies settling on her sleeping child, and the sanctity attributed to various insects, originated in the awe felt for him. the title fly-god is parallelled by the reverent epithet apomuios, applied to zeus as worshipped at elis, [ ] the myiagrus deus of the romans, [ ] and the myiodes mentioned by pliny. [ ] our picture is probably from a protecting charm, and evidently by the god's believers. there is a story of a peasant woman in a french church who was found kneeling before a marble group, and was warned by a priest that she was worshipping the wrong figure--namely, beelzebub. 'never mind,' she replied, 'it is well enough to have friends on both sides.' the story, though now only ben trovato, would represent the actual state of mind in many a babylonian invoking the protection of the fly-god against formidable swarms of his venomous subjects. not less clear is the illustration supplied by scandinavian mythology. in sæmund's edda the evil-minded loki says:-- odin! dost thou remember when we in early days blended our blood together? the two became detached very slowly; for their separation implied the crumbling away of a great religion, and its distribution into new forms; and a religion requires, relatively, as long to decay as it does to grow, as we who live under a crumbling religion have good reason to know. protap chunder mozoomdar, of the brahmo-somaj, in an address in london, said, 'the indian pantheon has many millions of deities, and no space is left for the devil.' he might have added that these deities have distributed between them all the work that the devil could perform if he were admitted. his remark recalled to me the eddaic story of loki's entrance into the assembly of gods in the halls of oegir. loki--destined in a later age to be identified with satan--is angrily received by the deities, but he goes round and mentions incidents in the life of each one which show them to be little if any better than himself. the gods and goddesses, unable to reply, confirm the cynic's criticisms in theologic fashion by tying him up with a serpent for cord. the late theodore parker is said to have replied to a calvinist who sought to convert him--'the difference between us is simple: your god is my devil.' there can be little question that the hebrews, from whom the calvinist inherited his deity, had no devil in their mythology, because the jealous and vindictive jehovah was quite equal to any work of that kind,--as the hardening of pharaoh's heart, bringing plagues upon the land, or deceiving a prophet and then destroying him for his false prophecies. [ ] the same accommodating relation of the primitive deities to all natural phenomena will account for the absence of distinct representatives of evil of the most primitive religions. the earliest exceptions to this primeval harmony of the gods, implying moral chaos in man, were trifling enough: the occasional monster seems worthy of mention only to display the valour of the god who slew him. but such were demon-germs, born out of the structural action of the human mind so soon as it began to form some philosophy concerning a universe upon which it had at first looked with simple wonder, and destined to an evolution of vast import when the work of moralising upon them should follow. let us take our stand beside our barbarian, but no longer savage, ancestor in the far past. we have watched the rosy morning as it waxed to a blazing noon: then swiftly the sun is blotted out, the tempest rages, it is a sudden night lit only by the forked lightning that strikes tree, house, man, with angry thunder-peal. from an instructed age man can look upon the storm blackening the sky not as an enemy of the sun, but one of its own superlative effects; but some thousands of years ago, when we were all living in eastern barbarism, we could not conceive that a luminary whose very business it was to give light, could be a party to his own obscuration. we then looked with pity upon the ignorance of our ancestors, who had sung hymns to the storm-dragons, hoping to flatter them into quietness; and we came by irresistible logic to that dualism which long divided the visible, and still divides the moral, universe into two hostile camps. this is the mother-principle out of which demons (in the ordinary sense of the term) proceeded. at first few, as distinguished from the host of deities by exceptional harmfulness, they were multiplied with man's growth in the classification of his world. their principle of existence is capable of indefinite expansion, until it shall include all the realms of darkness, fear, and pain. in the names of demons, and in the fables concerning them, the struggles of man in his ages of weakness with peril, want, and death, are recorded more fully than in any inscriptions on stone. dualism is a creed which all superficial appearances attest. side by side the desert and the fruitful land, the sunshine and the frost, sorrow and joy, life and death, sit weaving around every life its vesture of bright and sombre threads, and science alone can detect how each of these casts the shuttle to the other. enemies to each other they will appear in every realm which knowledge has not mastered. there is a refrain, gathered from many ages, in william blake's apostrophe to the tiger:-- tiger! tiger! burning bright in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye framed thy fearful symmetry? in what distant deeps or skies burned that fire within thine eyes? on what wings dared he aspire? what the hand dared seize the fire? when the stars threw down their spears and water heaven with their tears, did he smile his work to see? did he who made the lamb make thee? that which one of the devoutest men of genius whom england has produced thus asked was silently answered in india by the serpent-worshipper kneeling with his tongue held in his hand; in egypt, by osiris seated on a throne of chequer. [ ] it is necessary to distinguish clearly between the demon and the devil, though, for some purposes, they must be mentioned together. the world was haunted with demons for many ages before there was any embodiment of their spirit in any central form, much less any conception of a principle of evil in the universe. the early demons had no moral character, not any more than the man-eating tiger. there is no outburst of moral indignation mingling with the shout of victory when indra slays vritra, and apollo's face is serene when his dart pierces the python. it required a much higher development of the moral sentiment to give rise to the conception of a devil. only that intensest light could cast so black a shadow athwart the world as the belief in a purely malignant spirit. to such a conception--love of evil for its own sake--the word devil is limited in this work; demon is applied to beings whose harmfulness is not gratuitous, but incidental to their own satisfactions. deity and demon are from words once interchangeable, and the latter has simply suffered degradation by the conventional use of it to designate the less beneficent powers and qualities, which originally inhered in every deity, after they were detached from these and separately personified. every bright god had his shadow, so to say; and under the influence of dualism this shadow attained a distinct existence and personality in the popular imagination. the principle having once been established, that what seemed beneficent and what seemed the reverse must be ascribed to different powers, it is obvious that the evolution of demons must be continuous, and their distribution co-extensive with the ills that flesh is heir to. chapter iii. degradation. the degradation of deities--indicated in names--legends of their fall--incidental signs of the divine origin of demons and devils. the atmospheric conditions having been prepared in the human mind for the production of demons, the particular shapes or names they would assume would be determined by a variety of circumstances, ethnical, climatic, political, or even accidental. they would, indeed, be rarely accidental; but professor max müller, in his notes to the rig-veda, has called attention to a remarkable instance in which the formation of an imposing mythological figure of this kind had its name determined by what, in all probability, was an accident. there appears in the earliest vedic hymns the name of aditi, as the holy mother of many gods, and thrice there is mentioned the female name diti. but there is reason to believe that diti is a mere reflex of aditi, the a being dropped originally by a reciter's license. the later reciters, however, regarding every letter in so sacred a book, or even the omission of a letter, as of eternal significance, diti--this decapitated aditi--was evolved into a separate and powerful being, and, every niche of beneficence being occupied by its god or goddess, the new form was at once relegated to the newly-defined realm of evil, where she remained as the mother of the enemies of the gods, the daityas. unhappily this accident followed the ancient tendency by which the furies and vices have, with scandalous constancy, been described in the feminine gender. the close resemblance between these two names of hindu mythology, severally representing the best and the worst, may be thus accidental, and only serve to show how the demon-forming tendency, after it began, was able to press even the most trivial incidents into its service. but generally the names of demons, and for whole races of demons, report far more than this; and in no inquiry more than that before us is it necessary to remember that names are things. the philological facts supply a remarkable confirmation of the statements already made as to the original identity of demon and deity. the word 'demon' itself, as we have said, originally bore a good instead of an evil meaning. the sanskrit deva, 'the shining one,' zend daêva, correspond with the greek theos, latin deus, anglo-saxon tiw; and remain in 'deity,' 'deuce' (probably; it exists in armorican, teuz, a phantom), 'devel' (the gipsy name for god), and persian div, demon. the demon of socrates represents the personification of a being still good, but no doubt on the path of decline from pure divinity. plato declares that good men when they die become 'demons,' and he says 'demons are reporters and carriers between gods and men.' our familiar word bogey, a sort of nickname for an evil spirit, comes from the slavonic word for god--bog. appearing here in the west as bogey (welsh bwg, a goblin), this word bog began, probably, as the 'baga' of cuneiform inscriptions, a name of the supreme being, or possibly the hindu 'bhaga,' lord of life. in the 'bishop's bible' the passage occurs, 'thou shalt not be afraid of any bugs by night:' the word has been altered to 'terror.' when we come to the particular names of demons, we find many of them bearing traces of the splendours from which they have declined. 'siva,' the hindu god of destruction, has a meaning ('auspicious') derived from svi, 'thrive'--thus related ideally to pluto, 'wealth'--and, indeed, in later ages, appears to have gained the greatest elevation. in a story of the persian poem masnavi, ahriman is mentioned with bahman as a fire-fiend, of which class are the magian demons and the jinns generally; which, the sanctity of fire being considered, is an evidence of their high origin. avicenna says that the genii are ethereal animals. lucifer--light-bearing--is the fallen angel of the morning star. loki--the nearest to an evil power of the scandinavian personifications--is the german leucht, or light. azazel--a word inaccurately rendered 'scape-goat' in the bible--appears to have been originally a deity, as the israelites were originally required to offer up one goat to jehovah and another to azazel, a name which appears to signify the 'strength of god.' gesenius and ewald regard azazel as a demon belonging to the pre-mosaic religion, but it can hardly be doubted that the four arch-demons mentioned by the rabbins--samaël, azazel, asaël, and maccathiel--are personifications of the elements as energies of the deity. samaël would appear to mean the 'left hand of god;' azazel, his strength; asaël, his reproductive force; and maccathiel, his retributive power, but the origin of these names is doubtful.. although azazel is now one of the mussulman names for a devil, it would appear to be nearly related to al uzza of the koran, one of the goddesses of whom the significant tradition exists, that once when mohammed had read, from the sura called 'the star,' the question, 'what think ye of allat, al uzza, and manah, that other third goddess?' he himself added, 'these are the most high and beauteous damsels, whose intercession is to be hoped for,' the response being afterwards attributed to a suggestion of satan. [ ] belial is merely a word for godlessness; it has become personified through the misunderstanding of the phrase in the old testament by the translators of the septuagint, and thus passed into christian use, as in cor. vi. , 'what concord hath christ with belial?' the word is not used as a proper name in the old testament, and the late creation of a demon out of it may be set down to accident. even where the names of demons and devils bear no such traces of their degradation from the state of deities, there are apt to be characteristics attributed to them, or myths connected with them, which point in the direction indicated. such is the case with satan, of whom much must be said hereafter, whose hebrew name signifies the adversary, but who, in the book of job, appears among the sons of god. the name given to the devil in the koran--eblis--is almost certainly diabolos arabicised; and while this greek word is found in pindar [ ] ( th century b.c.), meaning a slanderer, the fables in the koran concerning eblis describe him as a fallen angel of the highest rank. one of the most striking indications of the fall of demons from heaven is the wide-spread belief that they are lame. mr. tylor has pointed out the curious persistence of this idea in various ethnical lines of development. [ ] hephaistos was lamed by his fall when hurled by zeus from olympos; and it is not a little singular that in the english travesty of limping vulcan, represented in wayland the smith, [ ] there should appear the suggestion, remarked by mr. cox, of the name 'vala' (coverer), one of the designations of the dragon destroyed by indra. 'in sir walter scott's romance,' says mr. cox, 'wayland is a mere impostor, who avails himself of a popular superstition to keep up an air of mystery about himself and his work, but the character to which he makes pretence belongs to the genuine teutonic legend.' [ ] the persian demon aeshma--the asmodeus of the book of tobit--appears with the same characteristic of lameness in the 'diable boiteux' of le sage. the christian devil's clubbed or cloven foot is notorious. even the horns popularly attributed to the devil may possibly have originated with the aureole which indicates the glory of his 'first estate.' satan is depicted in various relics of early art wearing the aureole, as in a miniature of the tenth century (from bible no. , bib. roy.), given by m. didron. [ ] the same author has shown that pan and the satyrs, who had so much to do with the shaping of our horned and hoofed devil, originally got their horns from the same high source as moses in the old bibles, [ ] and in the great statue of him at rome by michel angelo. it is through this mythologic history that the most powerful demons have been associated in the popular imagination with stars, planets,--ketu in india, saturn and mercury the 'infortunes,'--comets, and other celestial phenomena. the examples of this are so numerous that it is impossible to deal with them here, where i can only hope to offer a few illustrations of the principles affirmed; and in this case it is of less importance for the english reader, because of the interesting volume in which the subject has been specially dealt with. [ ] incidentally, too, the astrological demons and devils must recur from time to time in the process of our inquiry. but it will probably be within the knowledge of some of my readers that the dread of comets and of meteoric showers yet lingers in many parts of christendom, and that fear of unlucky stars has not passed away with astrologers. there is a scottish legend told by hugh miller of an avenging meteoric demon. a shipmaster who had moored his vessel near morial's den, amused himself by watching the lights of the scattered farmhouses. after all the rest had gone out one light lingered for some time. when that light too had disappeared, the shipmaster beheld a large meteor, which, with a hissing noise, moved towards the cottage. a dog howled, an owl whooped; but when the fire-ball had almost reached the roof, a cock crew from within the cottage, and the meteor rose again. thrice this was repeated, the meteor at the third cock-crow ascending among the stars. on the following day the shipmaster went on shore, purchased the cock, and took it away with him. returned from his voyage, he looked for the cottage, and found nothing but a few blackened stones. nearly sixty years ago a human skeleton was found near the spot, doubled up as if the body had been huddled into a hole: this revived the legend, and probably added some of those traits which make it a true bit of mosaic in the mythology of astræa. [ ] the fabled 'fall of lucifer' really signifies a process similar to that which has been noticed in the case of saranyu. the morning star, like the morning light, as revealer of the deeds of darkness, becomes an avenger, and by evolution an instigator of the evil it originally disclosed and punished. it may be remarked also that though we have inherited the phrase 'demons of darkness,' it was an ancient rabbinical belief that the demons went abroad in darkness not only because it facilitated their attacks on man, but because being of luminous forms, they could recognise each other better with a background of darkness. chapter iv. the abgott. the ex-god--deities demonised by conquest--theological animosity --illustration from the avesta--devil-worship an arrested deism-- sheik adi--why demons were painted ugly--survivals of their beauty. the phenomena of the transformation of deities into demons meet the student of demonology at every step. we shall have to consider many examples of a kind similar to those which have been mentioned in the preceding chapter; but it is necessary to present at this stage of our inquiry a sufficient number of examples to establish the fact that in every country forces have been at work to degrade the primitive gods into types of evil, as preliminary to a consideration of the nature of those forces. we find the history of the phenomena suggested in the german word for idol, abgott--ex-god. then we have 'pagan,' villager, and 'heathen,' of the heath, denoting those who stood by their old gods after others had transferred their faith to the new. these words bring us to consider the influence upon religious conceptions of the struggles which have occurred between races and nations, and consequently between their religions. it must be borne in mind that by the time any tribes had gathered to the consistency of a nation, one of the strongest forces of its coherence would be its priesthood. so soon as it became a general belief that there were in the universe good and evil powers, there must arise a popular demand for the means of obtaining their favour; and this demand has never failed to obtain a supply of priesthoods claiming to bind or influence the præternatural beings. these priesthoods represent the strongest motives and fears of a people, and they were gradually intrenched in great institutions involving powerful interests. every invasion or collision or mingling of races thus brought their respective religions into contact and rivalry; and as no priesthood has been known to consent peaceably to its own downfall and the degradation of its own deities, we need not wonder that there have been perpetual wars for religious ascendency. it is not unusual to hear sects among ourselves accusing each other of idolatry. in earlier times the rule was for each religion to denounce its opponent's gods as devils. gregory the great wrote to his missionary in britain, the abbot mellitus, second bishop of canterbury, that 'whereas the people were accustomed to sacrifice many oxen in honour of demons, let them celebrate a religious and solemn festival, and not slay the animals to the devil (diabolo), but to be eaten by themselves to the glory of god.' thus the devotion of meats to those deities of our ancestors which the pope pronounces demons, which took place chiefly at yule-tide, has survived in our more comfortable christmas banquets. this was the fate of all the deities which christianity undertook to suppress. but it had been the habit of religions for many ages before. they never denied the actual existence of the deities they were engaged in suppressing. that would have been too great an outrage upon popular beliefs, and might have caused a reaction; and, besides, each new religion had an interest of its own in preserving the basis of belief in these invisible beings. disbelief in the very existence of the old gods might be followed by a sceptical spirit that might endanger the new. so the propagandists maintained the existence of native gods, but called them devils. sometimes wars or intercourse between tribes led to their fusion; the battle between opposing religions was drawn, in which case there would be a compromise by which several deities of different origin might continue together in the same race and receive equal homage. the differing degrees of importance ascribed to the separate persons of the hindu triad in various localities of india, suggest it as quite probable that brahma, vishnu, and siva signalled in their union the political unity of certain districts in that country. [ ] the blending of the names of confucius and buddha, in many chinese and japanese temples, may show us an analogous process now going on, and, indeed, the various ethnical ideas combined in the christian trinity render the fact stated one of easy interpretation. but the religious difficulty was sometimes not susceptible of compromise. the most powerful priesthood carried the day, and they used every ingenuity to degrade the gods of their opponents. agathodemons were turned into kakodemons. the serpent, worshipped in many lands, might be adopted as the support of sleeping vishnu in india, might be associated with the rainbow ('the heavenly serpent') in persia, but elsewhere was cursed as the very genius of evil. the operation of this force in the degradation of deities, is particularly revealed in the sacred books of persia. in that country the great religions of the east would appear to have contended against each other with especial fury, and their struggles were probably instrumental in causing one or more of the early migrations into western europe. the great celestial war between ormuzd and ahriman--light and darkness--corresponded with a violent theological conflict, one result of which is that the word deva, meaning 'deity' to brahmans, means 'devil' to parsees. the following extract from the zend-avesta will serve as an example of the spirit in which the war was waged:-- 'all your devas are only manifold children of the evil mind--and the great one who worships the saoma of lies and deceits; besides the treacherous acts for which you are notorious throughout the seven regions of the earth. 'you have invented all the evil which men speak and do, which is indeed pleasant to the devas, but is devoid of all goodness, and therefore perishes before the insight of the truth of the wise. 'thus you defraud men of their good minds and of their immortality by your evil minds--as well through those of the devas as that of the evil spirit--through evil deeds and evil words, whereby the power of liars grows.' [ ] that is to say--ours is the true god: your god is a devil. the zoroastrian conversion of deva (deus) into devil does not alone represent the work of this odium theologicum. in the early hymns of india the appellation asuras is given to the gods. asura means a spirit. but in the process of time asura, like dæmon, came to have a sinister meaning: the gods were called suras, the demons asuras, and these were said to contend together. but in persia the asuras--demonised in india--retained their divinity, and gave the name ahura to the supreme deity, ormuzd (ahura-mazda). on the other hand, as mr. muir supposes, varenya, applied to evil spirits of darkness in the zendavesta, is cognate with varuna (heaven); and the vedic indra, king of the gods--the sun--is named in the zoroastrian religion as one of the chief councillors of that prince of darkness. but in every country conquered by a new religion, there will always be found some, as we have seen, who will hold on to the old deity under all his changed fortunes. these will be called 'bigots,' but still they will adhere to the ancient belief and practise the old rites. sometimes even after they have had to yield to the popular terminology, and call the old god a devil, they will find some reason for continuing the transmitted forms. it is probable that to this cause was originally due the religions which have been developed into what is now termed devil-worship. the distinct and avowed worship of the evil power in preference to the good is a rather startling phenomenon when presented baldly; as, for example, in a prayer of the madagascans to nyang, author of evil, quoted by dr. réville:--'o zamhor! to thee we offer no prayers. the good god needs no asking. but we must pray to nyang. nyang must be appeased. o nyang, bad and strong spirit, let not the thunder roar over our heads! tell the sea to keep within its bounds! spare, o nyang, the ripening fruit, and dry not up the blossoming rice! let not our women bring forth children on the accursed days. thou reignest, and this thou knowest, over the wicked; and great is their number, o nyang. torment not, then, any longer the good folk!' [ ] this is natural, and suggestive of the criminal under sentence of death, who, when asked if he was not afraid to meet his god, replied, 'not in the least; it's that other party i'm afraid of.' yet it is hardly doubtful that the worship of nyang began in an era when he was by no means considered morally baser than zamhor. how the theory of dualism, when attained, might produce the phenomenon called devil-worship, is illustrated in the case of the yezedis, now so notorious for that species of religion. their theory is usually supposed to be entirely represented by the expression uttered by one of them, 'will not satan, then, reward the poor izedis, who alone have never spoken ill of him, and have suffered so much for him?' [ ] but these words are significant, no doubt, of the underlying fact: they 'have never spoken ill of' the satan they worship. the mussulman calls the yezedi a satan-worshipper only as the early zoroastrian held the worshipper of a deva to be the same. the chief object of worship among the yezedis is the figure of the bird taous, a half-mythical peacock. professor king of cambridge traces the taous of this assyrian sect to the "sacred bird called a phoenix," whose picture, as seen by herodotus (ii. ) in egypt, is described by him as 'very like an eagle in outline and in size, but with plumage partly gold-coloured, partly crimson,' and which was said to return to heliopolis every five hundred years, there to burn itself on the altar of the sun, that another might rise from its ashes. [ ] now the name yezedis is simply izeds, genii; and we are thus pointed to arabia, where we find the belief in genii is strongest, and also associated with the mythical bird rokh of its folklore. there we find mohammed rebuking the popular belief in a certain bird called hamâh, which was said to take form from the blood near the brain of a dead person and fly away, to return, however, at the end of every hundred years to visit that person's sepulchre. but this is by no means devil-worship, nor can we find any trace of that in the most sacred scripture of the yezedis, the 'eulogy of sheikh adi.' this sheikh inherited from his father, moosafir, the sanctity of an incarnation of the divine essence, of which he (adi) speaks as 'the all-merciful.' by his light he hath lighted the lamp of the morning. i am he that placed adam in my paradise. i am he that made nimrod a hot burning fire. i am he that guided ahmet mine elect, i gifted him with my way and guidance. mine are all existences together, they are my gift and under my direction. i am he that possesseth all majesty, and beneficence and charity are from my grace, i am he that entereth the heart in my zeal; and i shine through the power of my awfulness and majesty. i am he to whom the lion of the desert came: i rebuked him and he became like stone. i am he to whom the serpent came, and by my will i made him like dust. i am he that shook the rock and made it tremble, and sweet water flowed therefrom from every side. [ ] the reverence shown in these sacred sentences for hebrew names and traditions--as of adam in paradise, marah, and the smitten rock--and for ahmet (mohammed), appears to have had its only requital in the odious designation of the worshippers of taous as devil-worshippers, a label which the yezedis perhaps accepted as the wesleyans and friends accepted such names as 'methodist' and 'quaker.' mohammed has expiated the many deities he degraded to devils by being himself turned to an idol (mawmet), a term of contempt all the more popular for its resemblance to 'mummery.' despite his denunciations of idolatry, it is certain that this earlier religion represented by the yezedis has never been entirely suppressed even among his own followers. in dr. leitner's interesting collection there is a lamp, which he obtained from a mosque, made in the shape of a peacock, and this is but one of many similar relics of primitive or alien symbolism found among the mussulman tribes. the evolution of demons and devils out of deities was made real to the popular imagination in every country where the new religion found art existing, and by alliance with it was enabled to shape the ideas of the people. the theoretical degradation of deities of previously fair association could only be completed where they were presented to the eye in repulsive forms. it will readily occur to every one that a rationally conceived demon or devil would not be repulsive. if it were a demon that man wished to represent, mere euphemism would prevent its being rendered odious. the main characteristic of a demon--that which distinguishes it from a devil--is, as we have seen, that it has a real and human-like motive for whatever evil it causes. if it afflict or consume man, it is not from mere malignancy, but because impelled by the pangs of hunger, lust, or other suffering, like the famished wolf or shark. and if sacrifices of food were offered to satisfy its need, equally we might expect that no unnecessary insult would be offered in the attempt to portray it. but if it were a devil--a being actuated by simple malevolence--one of its essential functions, temptation, would be destroyed by hideousness. for the work of seduction we might expect a devil to wear the form of an angel of light, but by no means to approach his intended victim in any horrible shape, such as would repel every mortal. the great representations of evil, whether imagined by the speculative or the religious sense, have never been, originally, ugly. the gods might be described as falling swiftly like lightning out of heaven, but in the popular imagination they retained for a long time much of their splendour. the very ingenuity with which they were afterwards invested with ugliness in religious art, attests that there were certain popular sentiments about them which had to be distinctly reversed. it was because they were thought beautiful that they must be painted ugly; it was because they were--even among converts to the new religion--still secretly believed to be kind and helpful, that there was employed such elaboration of hideous designs to deform them. the pictorial representations of demons and devils will come under a more detailed examination hereafter: it is for the present sufficient to point out that the traditional blackness or ugliness of demons and devils, as now thought of, by no means militates against the fact that they were once the popular deities. the contrast, for instance, between the horrible physiognomy given to satan in ordinary christian art, and the theological representation of him as the tempter, is obvious. had the design of art been to represent the theological theory, satan would have been portrayed in a fascinating form. but the design was not that; it was to arouse horror and antipathy for the native deities to which the ignorant clung tenaciously. it was to train children to think of the still secretly-worshipped idols as frightful and bestial beings. it is important, therefore, that we should guard against confusing the speculative or moral attempts of mankind to personify pain and evil with the ugly and brutal demons and devils of artificial superstition, oftenest pictured on church walls. sometimes they are set to support water-spouts, often the brackets that hold their foes, the saints. it is a very ancient device. our figure is from the handle of a chalice in possession of sir james hooker, meant probably to hold the holy water of ganges. these are not genuine demons or devils, but carefully caricatured deities. who that looks upon the grinning bestial forms carved about the roof of any old church--as those on melrose abbey and york cathedral [ ]--which, there is reason to believe, represent the primitive deities driven from the interior by potency of holy water, and chained to the uncongenial service of supporting the roof-gutter--can see in these gargoyles (fr. gargouille, dragon), anything but carved imprecations? was it to such ugly beings, guardians of their streams, hills, and forests, that our ancestors consecrated the holly and mistletoe, or with such that they associated their flowers, fruits, and homes? they were caricatures inspired by missionaries, made to repel and disgust, as the images of saints beside them were carved in beauty to attract. if the pagans had been the artists, the good looks would have been on the other side. and indeed there was an art of which those pagans were the unconscious possessors, through which the true characters of the imaginary beings they adored have been transmitted to us. in the fables of their folklore we find the fairies that represent the spirit of the gods and goddesses to which they are easily traceable. that goddess who in christian times was pictured as a hag riding on a broom-stick was frigga, the earth-mother, associated with the first sacred affections clustering around the hearth; or freya, whose very name was consecrated in frau, woman and wife. the mantle of bertha did not cover more tenderness when it fell to the shoulders of mary. the german child's name for the pre-christian madonna was mother rose: distaff in hand, she watched over the industrious at their household work: she hovered near the cottage, perhaps to find there some weeping cinderella and give her beauty for ashes. chapter v. classification. the obstructions of man--the twelve chief classes--modifications of particular forms for various functions--theological demons. the statements made concerning the fair names of the chief demons and devils which have haunted the imagination of mankind, heighten the contrast between their celestial origin and the functions attributed to them in their degraded forms. the theory of dualism, representing a necessary stage in the mental development of every race, called for a supply of demons, and the supply came from the innumerable dethroned, outlawed, and fallen deities and angels which had followed the subjugation of races and their religions. but though their celestial origin might linger around them in some slight legend or characteristic as well as in their names, the evil phenomenon to which each was attached as an explanation assigned the real form and work with which he or she was associated in popular superstition. we therefore find in the demons in which men have believed a complete catalogue of the obstacles with which they have had to contend in the long struggle for existence. in the devils we discover equally the history of the moral and religious struggles through which priesthoods and churches have had to pass. and the relative extent of this or that particular class of demons or devils, and the intensity of belief in any class as shown in the number of survivals from it, will be found to reflect pretty faithfully the degree to which the special evil represented by it afflicted primitive man, as attested by other branches of pre-historic investigation. as to function, the demons we shall have to consider are those representing-- . hunger; . excessive heat; . excessive cold; . destructive elements and physical convulsions; . destructive animals; . human enemies; . the barrenness of the earth, as rock and desert; . obstacles, as the river or mountain; . illusion, seductive, invisible, and mysterious agents, causing delusions; . darkness (especially when unusual), dreams, nightmare; . disease; . death. these classes are selected, in obedience to necessary limitations, as representing the twelve chief labours of man which have given shape to the majority of his haunting demons, as distinguished from his devils. of course all classifications of this character must be understood as made for convenience, and the divisions are not to be too sharply taken. what plotinus said of the gods, that each contained all the rest, is equally true of both demons and devils. the demons of hunger are closely related to the demons of fire: agni devoured his parents (two sticks consumed by the flame they produce); and from them we pass easily to elemental demons, like the lightning, or demons of fever. and similarly we find a relationship between other destructive forces. nevertheless, the distinctions drawn are not fanciful, but exist in clear and unmistakable beliefs as to the special dispositions and employments of demons; and as we are not engaged in dealing with natural phenomena, but with superstitions concerning them, the only necessity of this classification is that it shall not be arbitrary, but shall really simplify the immense mass of facts which the student of demonology has to encounter. but there are several points which require especial attention as preliminary to a consideration of these various classes of demons. first, it is to be borne in mind that a single demonic form will often appear in various functions, and that these must not be confused. the serpent may represent the lightning, or the coil of the whirlwind, or fatal venom; the earthquake may represent a swallowing hunger-demon, or the rage of a chained giant. the separate functions must not be lost sight of because sometimes traceable to a single form, nor their practical character suffer disguise through their fair euphemistic or mythological names. secondly, the same form appears repeatedly in a diabolic as well as a demonic function, and here a clear distinction must be maintained in the reader's mind. the distinction already taken between a demon and a devil is not arbitrary: the word demon is related to deity; the word devil, though sometimes connected with the sanskrit deva, has really no relation to it, but has a bad sense as 'calumniator:' but even if there were no such etymological identity and difference, it would be necessary to distinguish such widely separate offices as those representing the afflictive forces of nature where attributed to humanly appreciable motives on the one hand, and evils ascribed to pure malignancy or a principle of evil on the other. the devil may, indeed, represent a further evolution in the line on which the demon has appeared; ahriman the bad in conflict with ormuzd the good may be a spiritualisation of the conflict between light and darkness, sun and cloud, as represented in the vedic indra and vritra; but the two phases represent different classes of ideas, indeed different worlds, and the apprehension of both requires that they shall be carefully distinguished even when associated with the same forms and names. thirdly, there is an important class of demons which the reader may expect to find fully treated of in the part of my work more particularly devoted to demonology, which must be deferred, or further traced in that portion relating to the devil; they are forms which in their original conception were largely beneficent, and have become of evil repute mainly through the anathema of theology. the chequer-board on which osiris sat had its development in hosts of primitive shapes of light opposing shapes of darkness. the evil of some of these is ideal; others are morally amphibious: teraphim, lares, genii, were ancestors of the guardian angels and patron saints of the present day; they were oftenest in the shapes of dogs and cats and aged human ancestors, supposed to keep watch and ward about the house, like the friendly domovoi respected in russia; the evil disposition and harmfulness ascribed to them are partly natural but partly also theological, and due to the difficulty of superseding them with patron saints and angels. the degradation of beneficent beings, already described in relation to large demonic and diabolic forms, must be understood as constantly acting in the smallest details of household superstition, with what strange reaction and momentous result will appear when we come to consider the phenomena of witchcraft. finally, it must be remarked that the nature of our inquiry renders the consideration of the origin of myths--whether 'solar' or other--of secondary importance. such origin it will be necessary to point out and discuss incidentally, but our main point will always be the forms in which the myths have become incarnate, and their modifications in various places and times, these being the result of those actual experiences with which demonology is chiefly concerned. a myth, as many able writers have pointed out, is, in its origin, an explanation by the uncivilised mind of some natural phenomenon--not an allegory, not an esoteric conceit. for this reason it possesses fluidity, and takes on manifold shapes. the apparent sleep of the sun in winter may be represented in a vast range of myths, from the seven sleepers to the man in the moon of our nursery rhyme; but the variations all have relation to facts and circumstances. comparative mythology is mainly concerned with the one thread running through them, and binding them all to the original myth; the task of demonology is rather to discover the agencies which have given their several shapes. if it be shown that orthros and cerberus were primarily the morning and evening twilight or howling winds, either interpretation is here secondary to their personification as dogs. demonology would ask, why dogs? why not bulls? its answer in each case detaches from the anterior myth its mode, and shows this as the determining force of further myths. part ii. the demon. chapter i. hunger. hunger-demons--kephn--miru--kagura--ráhu the hindu sun-devourer--the earth monster at pelsall--a franconian custom--sheitan as moon-devourer--hindu offerings to the dead--ghoul--goblin--vampyres--leanness of demons--old scotch custom.--the origin of sacrifices. in every part of the earth man's first struggle was for his daily food. with only a rude implement of stone or bone he had to get fish from the sea, bird from the air, beast from the forest. for ages, with such poor equipment, he had to wring a precarious livelihood from nature. he saw, too, every living form around him similarly trying to satisfy its hunger. there seemed to be a spirit of hunger abroad. and, at the same time, there was such a resistance to man's satisfaction of his need--the bird and fish so hard to get, the stingy earth so ready to give him a stone when he asked for bread--that he came to the conclusion that there must be invisible voracious beings who wanted all good things for themselves. so the ancient world was haunted by a vast brood of hunger-demons. there is an african tribe, the karens, whose representation of the devil (kephn) is a huge stomach floating through the air; and this repulsive image may be regarded as the type of nearly half the demons which have haunted the human imagination. this, too, is the terrible miru, with her daughters and slave, haunting the south sea islander. 'the esoteric doctrine of the priests was, that souls leave the body ere breath has quite gone, and travel to the edge of a cliff facing the setting sun (ra). a large wave now approaches the base of the cliff, and a gigantic bua tree, covered with fragrant blossoms, springs up from avaiki (nether world) to receive on its far-reaching branches human spirits, who are mysteriously impelled to cluster on its limbs. when at length the mystic tree is covered with human spirits, it goes down with its living freight to the nether world. akaanga, the slave of fearful miru, mistress of the invisible world, infallibly catches all these unhappy spirits in his net and laves them to and fro in a lake. in these waters the captive ghosts exhaust themselves by wriggling about like fishes, in the vain hope of escape. the net is pulled up, and the half-drowned spirits enter into the presence of dread miru, who is ugliness personified. the secret of miru's power over her intended victims is the 'kava' root (piper mythisticum). a bowl of this drink is prepared for each visitor to the shades by her four lovely daughters. stupefied with the draught, the unresisting victims are borne off to a mighty oven and cooked. miru, her peerless daughters, her dance-loving son, and the attendants, subsist exclusively on human spirits decoyed to the nether world and then cooked. the drinking-cups of miru are the skulls of her victims. she is called in song 'miru-the-ruddy,' because her cheeks ever glow with the heat of the oven where her captives are cooked. as the surest way to miru's oven is to die a natural death, one need not marvel that the rev. mr. gill, who made these statements before the anthropological institute in london (february , ), had heard 'many anecdotes of aged warriors, scarcely able to hold a spear, insisting on being led to the field of battle in the hope of gaining the house of the brave.' as the south sea paradise seems to consist in an eternal war-dance, or, in one island, in an eternal chewing of sugar-cane, it is not unlikely that the aged seek violent death chiefly to avoid the oven. we have here a remarkable illustration of the distinguishing characteristic of the demon. fearful as miru is, it may be noted that there is not one gratuitous element of cruelty in her procedure. on the contrary, she even provides her victims with an anæsthetic draught. her prey is simply netted, washed, and cooked, as for man are his animal inferiors. in one of the islands (aitutaki), miru is believed to resort to a device which is certainly terrible--namely, the contrivance that each soul entering the nether world shall drink a bowl of living centipedes; but this is simply with the one end in view of appeasing her own pangs of hunger, for the object and effect of the draught is to cause the souls to drown themselves, it being apparently only after entire death that they can be cooked and devoured by miru and her household. fortunately for the islanders, miru is limited in her tortures to a transmundane sphere, and room is left for many a slip between her dreadful cup and the human lip. the floating stomach kephn is, however, not other-worldly. we see, however, a softened form of him in some other tribes. the greenlanders, finns, laps, conceived the idea that there is a large paunch-demon which people could invoke to go and suck the cows or consume the herds of their enemies; and the icelanders have a superstition that some people can construct such a demon out of bones and skins, and send him forth to transmute the milk or flesh of cattle into a supply of flesh and blood. a form of this kind is represented in the japanese kagura (figure ), the favourite mask of january dancers and drum-beaters seeking money. the kagura is in precise contrast with the pretas (siam), which, though twelve miles in height, are too thin to be seen, their mouths being so small as to render it impossible to satisfy their fearful hunger. the pot-bellies given to demons in travancore and other districts of india, and the blood-sacrifices by which the natives propitiate them--concerning which a missionary naively remarks, that even these heathen recognise, though in corrupted form, 'the great truth that without shedding of blood there is no remission of sins' [ ]--refer to the hunger-demon. they are the brood of kali, girt round with human skulls. the expedition which went out to india to observe the last solar eclipse was incidentally the means of calling attention to a remarkable survival of the hunger-demon in connection with astronomic phenomena. while the english observers were arranging their apparatus, the natives prepared a pile of brushwood, and, so soon as the eclipse began, they set fire to this pile and began to shout and yell as they danced around it. not less significant were the popular observances generally. there was a semi-holiday in honour of the eclipse. the ghauts were crowded with pious worshippers. no hindu, it is thought, ought to do any work whatever during an eclipse, and there was a general tendency to prolong the holiday a little beyond the exact time when the shadow disappears, and indeed to prolong it throughout the day. all earthenware vessels used for cooking were broken, and all cooked food in the houses at the time of the eclipse was thrown out. it is regarded as a time of peculiar blessings if taken in the right way, and of dread consequences to persons inclined to heterodoxy or neglect of the proper observances. between nine and ten in the evening two shocks of an earthquake occurred, the latter a rather unpleasant one, shaking the tables and doors in an uncomfortable fashion for several seconds. to the natives it was no surprise--they believe firmly in the connection of eclipses and earthquakes. [ ] especially notable is the breaking of their culinary utensils by the hindus during an eclipse. in copenhagen there is a collection of the votive weapons of ancient norsemen, every one broken as it was offered up to the god of their victory in token of good faith, lest they should be suspected of any intention to use again what they had given away. for the same reason the cup was offered--broken--with the libation. the northman felt himself in the presence of the jötunn (giants), whose name grimm identifies as the eaters. for the hindu of to-day the ceremonies appropriate at an eclipse, however important, have probably as little rational meaning as the occasional belfire that lights up certain dark corners of europe has for those who build it. but the traditional observances have come up from the childhood of the world, when the eclipse represented a demon devouring the sun, who was to have his attention called by outcries and prayers to the fact that if it was fire he needed there was plenty on earth; and if food, he might have all in their houses, provided he would consent to satisfy his appetite with articles of food less important than the luminaries of heaven. such is the shape now taken in india of the ancient myth of the eclipse. when at the churning of the ocean to find the nectar of immortality, a demon with dragon-tail was tasting that nectar, the sun and moon told on him, but not until his head had become immortal; and it is this head of ráhu which seeks now to devour the informers--the sun and moon. [ ] mythologically, too, this ráhu has been divided; for we shall hereafter trace the dragon-tail of him to the garden of eden and in the christian devil, whereas in india he has been improved from a vindictive to a merely voracious demon. the fires kindled by the hindus to frighten ráhu on his latest appearance might have defeated the purpose of the expedition by the smoke it was sending up, had not two officers leaped upon the fire and scattered its fuel; but just about the time when these courageous gentlemen were trampling out the fires of superstition whose smoke would obscure the vision of science, an event occurred in england which must be traced to the same ancient belief--the belief, namely, that when anything is apparently swallowed up, as the sun and moon by an eclipse, or a village by earthquake or flood, it is the work of a hungry dragon, earthworm, or other monster. the pelsall mine was flooded, and a large number of miners drowned. when the accident became known in the village, the women went out with the families of the unfortunate men, and sat beside the mouth of the flooded pit, at the bottom of which the dead bodies yet remained. these women then yelled down the pit with voices very different from ordinary lamentation. they also refused unanimously to taste food of any kind, saying, when pressed to do so, that so long as they could refrain from eating, their husbands might still be spared to them. when, finally, one poor woman, driven by the pangs of hunger, was observed to eat a crust of bread, the cries ceased, and the women, renouncing all hope, proceeded in silent procession to their homes in pelsall. the hindu people casting their food out of the window during an eclipse, the pelsall wives refusing to eat when the mine is flooded, are acting by force of immemorial tradition, and so are doing unconsciously what the african woman does consciously when she surrounds the bed of her sick husband with rice and meat, and beseeches the demon to devour them instead of the man. to the same class of notions belong the old custom of trying to discover the body of one drowned by means of a loaf of bread with a candle stuck in it, which it was said would pause above the body, and the body might be made to appear by firing a gun over it--that is, the demon holding it would be frightened off. a variant, too, is the persian custom of protecting a woman in parturition by spreading a table, with a lamp at each corner, with seven kinds of fruits and seven different aromatic seeds upon it. in , when pennant made his 'scottish tour,' he found fully observed in the highlands the ceremony of making the beltane cake on the first of may, and dedicating its distributed fragments to birds and beasts of prey, with invocation to the dread being of whom they were the supposed agents to spare the herds. demons especially love milk: the lambton worm required nine cows' milk daily; and jerome mentions a diabolical baby which exhausted six nurses. the devil nominally inherits, among the peasantry of christendom, the attributes of the demons which preceded him; but it must be understood that in every case where mere voracity is ascribed to the devil, a primitive demon is meant, and of this fact the superstitious peasant is dimly conscious. in franconia, when a baker is about to put dough biscuits into an oven to be baked, he will first throw half-a-dozen of them into the fire, saying, 'there, poor devil! those are for you.' if pressed for an explanation, he will admit his fear that but for this offering his biscuits are in danger of coming out burnt; but that the 'poor devil' is not bad-hearted, only driven by his hunger to make mischief. the being he fears is, therefore, clearly not the devil at all--whose distinction is a love of wickedness for its own sake--but the half-starved gobbling ghosts of whom, in christian countries, 'devil' has become the generic name. of their sacrifices, grace before meat is a remnant. in moslem countries, however, 'sheitan' combines the demonic and the malignant voracities. during the late lunar eclipse, the inhabitants of pera and constantinople fired guns over their houses to drive 'sheitan' (satan) away from the moon, for, whoever the foe, the turk trusts in gunpowder. but superstitions representing satan as a devourer are becoming rare. in the church of nôtre dame at hal, belgium, the lectern shows a dragon attempting to swallow the bible, which is supported on the back of an eagle. there is another and much more formidable form in which the hunger-demon appears in demonology. the fondness for blood, so characteristic of supreme gods, was distributed as a special thirst through a large class of demons. in the legend of ishtar descending to hades [ ] to seek some beloved one, she threatens if the door be not opened-- i will raise the dead to be devourers of the living! upon the living shall the dead prey! this menace shows that the chaldæan and babylonian belief in the vampyre, called akhkharu in assyrian, was fully developed at a very early date. although the hunger-demon was very fully developed in india, it does not appear to have been at any time so cannibalistic, possibly because the natives were not great flesh-eaters. in some cases, indeed, we meet with the vampyre superstition; as in the story of vikram and the vampyre, and in the tamil drama of harichándra, where the frenzied sandramáti says to the king, 'i belong to the race of elves, and i have killed thy child in order that i might feed on its delicate flesh.' such expressions are rare enough to warrant suspicion of their being importations. the vetala's appetite is chiefly for corpses. the poor hungry demons of india--such as the bhút, a dismal, ravenous ghost, dreaded at the moon-wane of the month katik (oct.-nov.)--was not supposed to devour man, but only man's food. the hindu demons of this class may be explained by reference to the sráddha, or oblation to ancestors, concerning which we read directions in the manu code. 'the ancestors of men are satisfied a whole month with tila, rice, &c.; two months with fish, &c. the manes say, oh, may that man be born in our line who may give us milky food, with honey and pure butter, both on the thirteenth of the moon and when the shadow of an elephant falls to the east!' the bloodthirsty demons of india have pretty generally been caught up like kali into a higher symbolism, and their voracity systematised and satisfied in sacrificial commutations. the popular belief in the southern part of that country is indicated by professor monier williams, in a letter written from southern india, wherein he remarks that the devils alone require propitiation. it is generally a simple procedure, performed by offerings of food or other articles supposed to be acceptable to disembodied beings. for example, when a certain european, once a terror to the district in which he lived, died in the south of india, the natives were in the constant habit of depositing brandy and cigars on his tomb to propitiate his spirit, supposed to roam about the neighbourhood in a restless manner, and with evil proclivities. the very same was done to secure the good offices of the philanthropic spirit of a great european sportsman, who, when he was alive, delivered his district from the ravages of tigers. indeed all evil spirits are thought to be opposed by good ones, who, if duly propitiated, make it their business to guard the inhabitants of particular places from demonic intruders. each district, and even every village, has its guardian genius, often called its mother. [ ] such ideas as these are represented in europe in some varieties of the kobold and the goblin (gk. kobalos). though the goblin must, according to folk-philosophy, be fed with nice food, it is not a deadly being; on the contrary, it is said the gobelin tapestry derives its name because the secret of its colours was gained from these ghosts. though st. taurin expelled one from evreux, he found it so polite that he would not send it to hell, and it still haunts the credulous there and at caen, without being thought very formidable. the demon that 'lurks in graveyards' is universal, and may have suggested cremation. in the east it is represented mainly by such forms as the repulsive ghoul, which preys on dead bodies; but it has been developed in some strange way to the slavonic phantom called vampyre, whose peculiar fearfulness is that it represents the form in which any deceased person may reappear, not ghoul-like to batten on the dead, but to suck the blood of the living. this is perhaps the most formidable survival of demonic superstition now existing in the world. a people who still have in their dictionary such a word as 'miscreant' (misbeliever) can hardly wonder that the priests of the eastern church fostered the popular belief that heretics at death changed into drinkers of the blood of the living. the slavonic vampyres have declined in england and america to be the 'ogres,' who 'smell the blood of an englishman,' but are rarely supposed to enjoy it; but it exposes the real ugliness of the pious superstitions sometimes deemed pretty, that, in proportion to the intensity of belief in supernaturalism, the people live in terror of the demons that go about seeking whom they may devour. in russia the watcher beside a corpse is armed with holy charms against attack from it at midnight. a vampyre may be the soul of any outcast from the church, or one over whose corpse, before burial, a cat has leaped or a bird flown. it may be discovered in a graveyard by leading a black colt through; the animal will refuse to tread on the vampyre's grave, and the body is taken out and a stake driven through it, always by a single blow. a related class of demons are the 'heart-devourers.' they touch their victim with an aspen or other magical twig; the heart falls out, and is, perhaps, replaced by some baser one. mr. ralston mentions a mazovian story in which a hero awakes with the heart of a hare, and remains a coward ever after; [ ] and in another case a quiet peasant received a cock's heart and was always crowing. the werewolf, in some respects closely related to the vampyre, also pursues his ravages among the priest-ridden peasantry of the south and east. in germany, though the more horrible forms of the superstition are rare, the 'nachzehrer' is much dreaded. even in various protestant regions it is thought safest that a cross should be set beside every grave to impede any demonic propensities that may take possession of the person interred; and where food is not still buried with the corpse to assuage any pangs of hunger that may arise, a few grains of corn or rice are scattered upon it in reminiscence of the old custom. in diesdorf it is believed that if money is not placed in the dead person's mouth at burial, or his name not cut from his shirt, he is likely to become a nachzehrer, and that the ghost will come forth in the form of a pig. it is considered a sure preventative of such a result to break the neck of the dead body. on one occasion, it is there related, several persons of one family having died, the suspected corpse was exhumed, and found to have eaten up its own grave-clothes. dr. dyer, an eminent physician of chicago, illinois, told me ( ) that a case occurred in that city within his personal knowledge, where the body of a woman who had died of consumption was taken out of the grave and the lungs burned, under a belief that she was drawing after her into the grave some of her surviving relatives. in , according to the providence journal, in the village of peacedale, rhode island, u.s., mr. william rose dug up the body of his own daughter, and burned her heart, under the belief that she was wasting away the lives of other members of his family. the characteristics of modern 'spiritualism' appear to indicate that the superstitious have outgrown this ancient fear of ghostly malevolence where surrounded by civilisation. it is very rare in the ancient world or in barbarous regions to find any invocations for the return of the spirits of the dead. mr. tylor has quoted a beautiful dirge used by the ho tribe of india, beginning-- we never scolded you, never wronged you; come to us back! but generally funereal customs are very significant of the fear that spirits may return, and their dirges more in the vein of the bodo of north-east india: 'take and eat: heretofore you have eaten and drunk with us, you can do so no more: you were one of us, you can be so no longer: we come no more to you, come you not to us.' 'even,' says mr. tylor, 'in the lowest culture we find flesh holding its own against spirit, and at higher stages the householder rids himself with little scruple of an unwelcome inmate. the greenlanders would carry the dead out by the window, not by the door, while an old woman, waving a firebrand behind, cried 'piklerrukpok!' i.e., 'there is nothing more to be had here!' the hottentots removed the dead from the hut by an opening broken out on purpose, to prevent him from finding the way back; the siamese, with the same intention, break an opening through the house wall to carry the coffin through, and then hurry it at full speed thrice round the house; the siberian chuwashes fling a red-hot stone after the corpse is carried out, for an obstacle to bar the soul from coming back; so brandenburg peasants pour out a pail of water at the door after the coffin to prevent the ghost from walking; and pomeranian mourners returning from the churchyard leave behind the straw from the hearse, that the wandering soul may rest there, and not come back so far as home.' [ ] it may be remarked, in this connection, that in nearly all the pictures of demons and devils, they are represented as very lean. the exceptions will be found generally in certain southern and tropical demons which represent cloud or storm--typhon, for instance--and present a swollen or bloated appearance. no northern devil is fat. shakespeare ascribes to cæsar a suspicion of leanness-- yond' cassius hath a lean and hungry look: he thinks too much: such men are dangerous. when antony defends cassius, cæsar only replies, 'would he were fatter!' this mistrust of leanness is a reflection from all the hunger-demons; it interprets the old sayings that a devil, however fair in front, may be detected by hollowness of the back, and that he is usually so thin as to cast no shadow. [ ] illustrations of the hunger-demon and its survivals might be greatly multiplied, were it necessary. it need only, however, be mentioned that it is to this early and most universal conception of præternatural danger that the idea of sacrifice as well as of fasting must be ascribed. it is, indeed, too obvious to require extended demonstration that the notion of offering fruits and meat to an invisible being could only have originated in the belief that such being was hungry, however much the spiritualisation of such offerings may have attended their continuance among enlightened peoples. in the evolution of purer deities, fire--'the devouring element'--was substituted for a coarser method of accepting sacrifices, and it became a sign of baser beings--such as the assyrian akhkharu, and the later lamia--to consume dead bodies with their teeth; and this fire was the spiritual element in the idolatries whose objects were visible. but the original accent of sacrifice never left it. the levitical law says: 'the two kidneys, and the fat that is upon them, which is by the flanks, and the caul above the liver, with the kidneys, it shall he take away. and the priest shall burn them upon the altar: it is the food of the offering made by fire for a sweet savour: all the fat is the lord's. it shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood.' [ ] we find the hunger-demon shown as well in the wrath of jehovah against the sons of eli for eating the choice parts of the meats offered on his altar, as in that offering of tender infants to moloch which his priests denounced, or in saturn devouring his children, whom aryan faith dethroned; and they all reappear as phantoms thinly veiled above the spotless lamb offered up on calvary, the sacrificed macaria ('blessed'), the pierced heart of mary. the beautiful boy menoeceus must be sacrificed to save thebes; the gods will not have aged and tough creon, though a king, in his place. iphigenia, though herself saved from the refined palate of artemis, through the huntress's fondness for kid's blood, becomes the priestess of human sacrifices. the human offering deemed half-divine could alone at last satisfy the deity, gathered in his side this sheaf of sacrificial knives, whetted in many lands and ages, and in his self-sacrifice the hunger-demon himself was made the victim. theologians have been glad to rescue the first person of their trinity from association with the bloodthirsty demons of barbarous ages by describing the sacrifice of jesus as god himself becoming the victim of an eternal law. but, whatever may be said of this complex device, it is sufficient evidence that man's primitive demon which personified his hunger has ended with being consumed on his own altar. for though fasting is a survival of the same savage notion that man may secure benefits from invisible beings by leaving them the food, it is a practice which survives rather through the desire of imitating ascetic saints than because of any understood principle. the strange yet natural consummation adds depth of meaning to the legend of odin being himself sacrificed in his disguise on the holy tree at upsala, where human victims were hung as offerings to him; and to his rune in the havamal-- i know that i hung on a wind-rocked tree nine whole nights, with a spear wounded, and to odin offered myself to myself. chapter ii. heat. demons of fire--agni--asmodeus--prometheus--feast of fire--moloch --tophet--genii of the lamp--bel-fires--hallowe'en--negro superstitions--chinese fire-god--volcanic and incendiary demons-- mangaian fire-demon--demons' fear of water. fire was of old the element of fiends. no doubt this was in part due to the fact that it also was a devouring element. sacrifices were burnt; the demon visibly consumed them. but the great flame-demons represent chiefly the destructive and painful action of intense heat. they originate in regions of burning desert, of sunstroke, and drouth. agni, the hindu god of fire, was adored in vedic hymns as the twin of indra. 'thy appearance is fair to behold, thou bright-faced agni, when like gold thou shinest at hand; thy brightness comes like the lightning of heaven; thou showest splendour like the splendour of the bright sun. 'adorable and excellent agni, emit the moving and graceful smoke. 'the flames of agni are luminous, powerful, fearful, and not to be trusted. 'i extol the greatness of that showerer of rain, whom men celebrate as the slayer of vritra: the agni, vaiswanara, slew the stealer of the waters.' the slaying of vritra, the monster, being the chief exploit of indra, agni could only share in it as being the flame that darted with indra's weapon, the disc (of the sun). 'thou (agni) art laid hold off with difficulty, like the young of tortuously twining snakes, thou who art a consumer of many forests as a beast is of fodder.' petrifaction awaits all these glowing metaphors of early time. verbal inspiration will make agni a literally tortuous serpent and consuming fire. his smoke, called kali (black), is now the name of siva's terrible bride. much is said in vedic hymns of the method of producing the sacred flame symbolising agni; namely, the rubbing together of two sticks. 'he it is whom the two sticks have engendered, like a new-born babe.' it is a curious coincidence that a similar phrase should describe 'the devil on two sticks,' who has come by way of persia into european romance. asmodeus was a lame demon, and his 'two sticks' as 'diable boiteux' are crutches; but his lameness may be referable to the attenuated extremities suggested by spires of flame--'tortuously twining snakes,'--rather than to the rabbinical myth that he broke his leg on his way to meet solomon. benfey identified asmodeus as zend aêshma-daêva, demon of lust. his goat-feet and fire-coal eyes are described by le sage, and the demon says he was lamed by falling from the air, like vulcan, when contending with pillardoc. it is not difficult to imagine how flame engendered by the rubbing of sticks might have attained personification as sensual passion, especially among zoroastrians, who would detach from the adorable fire all associations of evil. it would harmonise well with the persian tendency to diabolise indian gods, that they should note the lustful character occasionally ascribed to agni in the vedas. 'him alone, the ever-youthful agni, men groom like a horse in the evening and at dawn; they bed him as a stranger in his couch; the light of agni, the worshipped male, is lighted.' agni was the indian 'brulefer' or love-charmer, and patron of marriage; the fire-god hephaistos was the husband of aphrodite; the day of the norse thunder-and-lightning god thor (thursday), is in scandinavian regions considered the luckiest for marriages. the process of obtaining fire by friction is represented by a nobler class of myths than that referred to. in the mahábhárata the gods and demons together churn the ocean for the nectar of immortality; and they use for their churning-stick the mountain manthara. this word appears in pramantha, which means a fire-drill, and from it comes the great name of prometheus, who stole fire from heaven, and conferred on mankind a boon which rendered them so powerful that the jealousy and wrath of zeus were excited. this fable is generally read in its highly rationalised and mystical form, and on this account belongs to another part of our general subject; but it may be remarked here that the titan so terribly tortured by zeus could hardly have been regarded, originally, as the friend of man. at the time when zeus was a god genuinely worshipped--when he first stood forth as the supplanter of the malign devourer saturn--it could have been no friend of man who was seen chained on the rock for ever to be the vulture's prey. it was fire in some destructive form which must have been then associated with prometheus, and not that power by which later myths represented his animating with a divine spark the man of clay. the hindu myth of churning the ocean for the immortal draught, even if it be proved that the ocean is heaven and the draught lightning, does not help us much. the traditional association of prometheus with the arts might almost lead one to imagine that the early use of fire by some primitive inventor had brought upon him the wrath of his mates, and that zeus' thunderbolts represented some early 'strike' against machinery. it is not quite certain that it may not have been through some euphemistic process that fire-worship arose in persia. not only does fire occupy a prominent place in the tortures inflicted by ahriman in the primitive parsee inferno, but it was one of the weapons by which he attempted to destroy the heavenly child zoroaster. the evil magicians kindled a fire in the desert and threw the child on it; but his mother, dogdo, found him sleeping tranquilly on the flames, which were as a pleasant bath, and his face shining like zohore and moschteri (jupiter and mercury). [ ] the zoroastrians also held that the earth would ultimately be destroyed by fire; its metals and minerals, ignited by a comet, would form streams which all souls would have to pass through: they would be pleasant to the righteous, but terrible to the sinful,--who, however, would come through, purified, into paradise, the last to arrive being ahriman himself. the combustible nature of many minerals under the surface of the earth,--which was all the realm of hades (invisible),--would assist the notion of a fiery abode for the infernal gods. our phrase 'plutonic rock' would then have a very prosaic sense. pliny says that in his time sulphur was used to keep off evil spirits, and it is not impossible that it first came to be used as a medicine by this route. [ ] fire-festivals still exist in india, where the ancient raiment of agni has been divided up and distributed among many deities. at the popular annual festival in honour of dharma rajah, called the feast of fire, the devotees walk barefoot over a glowing fire extending forty feet. it lasts eighteen days, during which time those that make a vow to keep it must fast, abstain from women, lie on the bare ground, and walk on a brisk fire. the eighteenth day they assemble on the sound of instruments, their heads crowned with flowers, their bodies daubed with saffron, and follow the figures of dharma rajah and draupadi his wife in procession. when they come to the fire, they stir it to animate its activity, and take a little of the ashes, with which they rub their foreheads; and when the gods have been carried three times round it they walk over a hot fire, about forty feet. some carry their children in their arms, and others lances, sabres, and standards. after the ceremony the people press to collect the ashes to rub their foreheads with, and obtain from devotees the flowers with which they were adorned, and which they carefully preserve. [ ] the passion of agni reappears in draupadi purified by fire for her five husbands, and especially her union with dharma rajah, son of yama, is celebrated in this unorthodox passion-feast. it has been so much the fashion for travellers to look upon all 'idolatry' with biblical eyes, that we cannot feel certain with sonnerat that there was anything more significant in the carrying of children by the devotees, than the supposition that what was good for the parent was equally beneficial to the child. but the identification of moloch with an aryan deity is not important; the indian feast of fire and the rites of moloch are derived by a very simple mental process from the most obvious aspects of the sun as the quickening and the consuming power in nature. the child offered to moloch was offered to the god by whom he was generated, and as the most precious of all the fruits of the earth for which his genial aid was implored and his destructive intensity deprecated. moloch, a word that means 'king,' was a name almost synonymous with human sacrifice. it was in all probability at first only a local (ammonite) personification growing out of an ancient shrine of baal. the midianite baal accompanied the israelites into the wilderness, and that worship was never thoroughly eradicated. in the egyptian confession of faith, which the initiated took even into their graves inscribed upon a scroll, the name of god is not mentioned, but is expressed only by the words nuk pu nuk, 'i am he who i am.' [ ] the flames of the burning bush, from which these same words came to moses, were kindled from baal, the sun; and we need not wonder that while the more enlightened chiefs of israel preserved the higher ideas and symbols of the countries they abandoned, the ignorant would still cling to apis (the golden calf), to ashtaroth, and to moloch. amos (v. ), and after him stephen the martyr (acts vii. ), reproach the hebrews with having carried into the wilderness the tabernacle of their god moloch. and though the passing of children through the fire to moloch was, by the mosaic law, made a capital crime, the superstition and the corresponding practice retained such strength that we find solomon building a temple to moloch on the mount of olives ( kings xi. ), and, long after, manasseh making his son pass through the fire in honour of the same god. it is certain from the denunciations of the prophets [ ] that the destruction of children in these flames was actual. from jeremiah xix. , as well as other sources, we know that the burnings took place in the valley of tophet or hinnom (gehenna). the idol moloch was of brass, and its throne of brass; its head was that of a calf, and wore a royal crown; its stomach was a furnace, and when the children were placed in its arms they were consumed by the fierce heat,--their cries being drowned by the beating of drums; from which, toph meaning a 'drum,' the place was also called tophet. in the fierce war waged against alien superstitions by josiah, he defiled gehenna, filling it with ordure and dead men's bones to make it odious, 'that no man might make his son or his daughter to pass through the fire to moloch' ( kings xxiii. ), and a perpetual fire was kept there to consume the filth of jerusalem. from this horrible gehenna, with its perpetual fire, its loathsome worm, its cruelties, has been derived the picture of a never-ending hell prepared for the majority of human beings by one who, while they live on earth, sends the rain and sunshine alike on the evil and the good. wo chang, a chinaman in london, has written to a journal [ ] his surprise that our religious teachers should be seized with such concern for the victims of turkish atrocities in bulgaria, while they are so calm in view of the millions burning, and destined to burn endlessly, in the flames of hell. our oriental brothers will learn a great deal from our missionaries; among other things, that the theological god of christendom is still moloch. the ammonites, of whom moloch was the special demon, appear to have gradually blended with the arabians. these received from many sources their mongrel superstitions, but among them were always prominent the planet-gods and fire-gods, whom their growing monotheism (to use the word still in a loose sense) transformed to powerful angels and genii. the genii of arabia are slaves of the lamp; they are evoked by burning tufts of hair; they ascend as clouds of smoke. though, as subordinate agents of the fire-fiend, they may be consumed by flames, yet those who so fight them are apt to suffer a like fate, as in the case of the lady of beauty in the arabian nights' entertainments. many stories of this kind preceded the declarations of the old testament, that jehovah breathes fire and brimstone, his breath kindling tophet; and also the passages of the koran, and of the new testament describing satan as a fiery fiend. various superstitions connecting infernal powers with fire survive among the jews of some remote districts of europe. the passover is kept a week by the jewish inhabitants in the villages on the vosges mountains and on the banks of the rhine. the time of omer is the interval between the passover and pentecost, the seven weeks elapsing from the departure from egypt and the giving of the law, marked in former days by the offering of an omer of barley daily at the temple. it is considered a fearful time, during which every jew is particularly exposed to the evil influence of evil spirits. there is something dangerous and fatal in the air; every one should be on the watch, and not tempt the schedim (demons) in any way. have a strict eye upon your cattle, say the jews, for the sorceress will get into your stables, mount your cows and goats, bring diseases upon them, and turn their milk sour. in the latter case, try to lay your hand upon the suspected person; shut her up in a room with a basin of sour milk, and beat the milk with a hazel-wand, pronouncing god's name three times. whilst you are doing this, the sorceress will make great lamentation, for the blows are falling upon her. only stop when you see blue flames dancing on the surface of the milk, for then the charm is broken. if at nightfall a beggar comes to ask for a little charcoal to light his fire, be very careful not to give it, and do not let him go without drawing him three times by his coat-tail; and without losing time, throw some large handfuls of salt on the fire. in all of which we may trace traditions of parched wildernesses and fiery serpents, as well as of abraham's long warfare with the fire-worshippers, until, according to the tradition, he was thrown into the flames he refused to worship. it is probable that in all the popular superstitions which now connect devils and future punishments with fire are blended both the apotheosis and the degradation of demons. the first and most universal of deities being the sun, whose earthly representative is fire, the student of comparative mythology has to pick his way very carefully in tracing by any ethnological path the innumerable superstitions of european folklore in which fire-worship is apparently reflected. the collection of facts and records contained in a work so accessible to all who care to pursue the subject as that of brand and his editors, [ ] renders it unnecessary that i should go into the curious facts to any great extent here. the uniformity of the traditions by which the midsummer fires of northern europe have been called baal-fires or bel-fires warrant the belief that they are actually descended from the ancient rites of baal, even apart from the notorious fact that they have so generally been accompanied by the superstition that it is a benefit to children to leap over or be passed through such fires. that this practice still survives in out-of-the way places of the british empire appears from such communications as the following (from the times), which are occasionally addressed to the london journals:--'lerwick (shetland), july , .--sir,--it may interest some of your readers to know that last night (being st. john's eve, old style) i observed, within a mile or so of this town, seven bonfires blazing, in accordance with the immemorial custom of celebrating the midsummer solstice. these fires were kindled on various heights around the ancient hamlet of sound, and the children leaped over them, and 'passed through the fire to moloch,' just as their ancestors would have done a thousand years ago on the same heights, and their still remoter progenitors in eastern lands many thousand years ago. this persistent adherence to mystic rites in this scientific epoch seems to me worth taking note of.--a. j.' to this may be added the following recent extract from a scotch journal:-- 'hallowe'en was celebrated at balmoral castle with unusual ceremony, in the presence of her majesty, the princess beatrice, the ladies and gentlemen of the royal household, and a large gathering of the tenantry. the leading features of the celebration were a torchlight procession, the lighting of large bonfires, and the burning in effigy of witches and warlocks. upwards of torch-bearers assembled at the castle as dark set in, and separated into two parties, one band proceeding to invergelder, and the other remaining at balmoral. the torches were lighted at a quarter before six o'clock, and shortly after the queen and princess beatrice drove to invergelder, followed by the balmoral party of torchbearers. the two parties then united and returned in procession to the front of balmoral castle, where refreshments were served to all, and dancing was engaged in round a huge bonfire. suddenly there appeared from the rear of the castle a grotesque apparition representing a witch with a train of followers dressed like sprites, who danced and gesticulated in all fashions. then followed a warlock of demoniac shape, who was succeeded by another warlock drawing a car, on which was seated the figure of a witch, surrounded by other figures in the garb of demons. the unearthly visitors having marched several times round the burning pile, the principal figure was taken from the car and tossed into the flames amid the burning of blue lights and a display of crackers and fireworks. the health of her majesty the queen was then pledged, and drunk with highland honours by the assembled hundreds. dancing was then resumed, and was carried on till a late hour at night.' the sixth council of constantinople (an. ), by its sixty-fifth canon, forbids these fires in the following terms:--'those bonefires that are kindled by certain people before their shops and houses, over which also they use ridiculously to leap, by a certain ancient custom, we command them from henceforth to cease. whoever, therefore, shall do any such thing, if he be a clergyman, let him be deposed; if he be a layman, let him be excommunicated. for in the fourth book of the kings it is thus written: and manasseh built an altar to all the host of heaven, in the two courts of the lord's house, and made his children to pass through the fire.' there is a charming naïveté in this denunciation. it is no longer doubtful that this 'bonefire' over which people leaped came from the same source as that gehenna from which the church derived the orthodox theory of hell, as we have already seen. when shakespeare speaks (macbeth) of 'the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire,' [ ] he is, with his wonted felicity, assigning the flames of hell and the fires of moloch and baal their right archæological relation. in my boyhood i have often leaped over a bonfire in a part of the state of virginia mainly settled by scotch families, with whom probably the custom migrated thither. in the superstitions of the negroes of that and other southern states fire plays a large part, but it is hardly possible now to determine whether they have drifted there from africa or england. sometimes there are queer coincidences between their notions and some of the early legends of britain. thus, the tradition of the shepherd guided by a distant fire to the entrance of king arthur's subterranean hall, where a flame fed by no fuel coming through the floor reveals the slumbering monarch and his court, resembles somewhat stories i have heard from negroes of their being led by distant fires to lucky--others say unlucky--or at any rate enchanted spots. a negro belonging to my father told me that once, as he was walking on a country road, he saw a great fire in the distance; he supposed it must be a house on fire, and hastened towards it, meantime much puzzled, since he knew of no house in that direction. as he went on his way he turned into a small wood near which the fire seemed to be, but when he emerged, all he found was a single fire-coal burning in the path. there were no other traces whatever of fire, but just then a large dog leaped past him with a loud bark and disappeared. in a letter on 'voudouism in virginia,' which appeared in the new york tribune, dated richmond, september , , occurs an account of a class of superstitions generally kept close from the whites, as i have always believed because of their purely african origin. as will be seen, fire represents an important element in the superstitious practices. 'if an ignorant negro is smitten with a disease which he cannot comprehend, he often imagines himself the victim of witchcraft, and having no faith in 'white folks' physic' for such ailments, must apply to one of these quacks. a physician residing near this city was invited by such a one to witness his mode of procedure with a dropsical patient for whom the physician in question had occasionally charitably prescribed. curiosity led him to attend the seance, having previously informed the quack that since the case was in such hands he relinquished all connection with it. on the coverlet of the bed on which the sick man lay was spread a quantity of bones, feathers, and other trash. the charlatan went through with a series of so-called conjurations, burned feathers, hair, and tiny fragments of wood in a charcoal furnace, and mumbled gibberish past the physician's comprehension. he then proceeded to rip open the pillows and bolsters, and took from them some queer conglomerations of feathers. these he said had caused all the trouble. sprinkling a whitish powder over them, he burnt them in his furnace. a black offensive smoke was produced, and he announced triumphantly that the evil influence was destroyed and that the patient would surely get well. he died not many days later, believing, in common with all his friends and relatives, that the conjurations of the 'trick doctor' had failed to save him only because resorted to too late.' the following account of a spell from which his wife was rescued, was given me by a negro in virginia:-- 'the wizard,' to quote the exact words of my informant, 'threw a stick on a chest; the stick bounded like a trapball three times; then he opened the chest, took out something looking like dust or clay, and put it into a cup with water over a fire; then he poured it over a board (after chopping it three times), which he then put up beneath the shingles of the house. returning to the chest he took a piece of old chain, near the length of my hand, took a hoe and buried the chain near the sill of the door of my wife's house where she would pass; then he went away. i saw my wife coming and called to her not to pass, and to go for a hoe and dig up the place. she did this, and i took up the chain, which burned the ends of all my fingers clean off. the same night the conjuror came back: my wife took two half dollars and a quarter in silver and threw them on the ground before him. the man seemed as if he was shocked, and then offered her his hand, which she refused to take, as i had bid her not to let him touch her. he left and never came to the house again. the spell was broken.' i am convinced that this is a pure voudou procedure, and it is interesting in several regards. the introduction of the chain may have been the result of the excitement of the time, for it was during the war when negroes were breaking their chains. the fire and water show how wide-spread in africa is that double ordeal which, as we have seen, is well known in the kingdom of dahomey. [ ] but the mingling of 'something like dust' with the water held in a cup over the fire, is strongly suggestive of the jewish method of preparing holy water, 'the water of separation.' 'for an unclean person they shall take of the dust of the burnt heifer of purification for sin, and running water shall be put thereto in a vessel.' [ ] the fiery element of the mixture was in this case imported with the ashes of the red heifer. as for this sacrifice of the red heifer itself [ ] it was plainly the propitiation of a fiery demon. in egypt red hair and red animals of all kinds were considered infernal, and all the details of this sacrifice show that the colour of this selected heifer was typical. the heifer was not a usual sacrifice: a red one was obviously by its colour marked for the genii of fire--the terrible seven--and not to be denied them. its blood was sprinkled seven times before the tabernacle, and the rest was utterly consumed--including the hide, which is particularly mentioned--and the ashes taken to make the 'water of separation.' calmet notes, in this connection, that the apis of india was red-coloured. the following interesting story of the chinese fire-god was supplied to mr. dennys [ ] by mr. playfair of h.m. consulate, to whom it was related in peking:-- 'the temples of the god of fire are numerous in peking, as is natural in a city built for the most part of very combustible materials. the idols representing the god are, with one exception, decked with red beards, typifying by their colour the element under his control. the exceptional god has a white beard, and 'thereby hangs a tale.' 'a hundred years ago the chinese imperial revenue was in much better case than it is now. at that time they had not yet come into collision with western powers, and the word 'indemnity' had not, so far, found a place in their vocabulary; internal rebellions were checked as soon as they broke out, and, in one word, kien lung was in less embarrassed circumstances than kwang hsu; he had more money to spend, and did lay out a good deal in the way of palaces. his favourite building, and one on which no expense had been spared, was the 'hall of contemplation.' this hall was of very large dimensions; the rafters and the pillars which supported the roof were of a size such as no trees in china furnish now-a-days. they were not improbably originally sent as an offering by the tributary monarch of some tropical country, such as burmah or siam. two men could barely join hands round the pillars; they were cased in lustrous jet-black lacquer, which, while adding to the beauty of their appearance, was also supposed to make them less liable to combustion. indeed, every care was taken that no fire should approach the building; no lighted lamp was allowed in the precincts, and to have smoked a pipe inside those walls would have been punished with death. the floor of the hall was of different-coloured marbles, in a mosaic of flowers and mystic chinese characters, always kept polished like a mirror. the sides of the room were lined with rare books and precious manuscripts. it was, in short, the finest palace in the imperial city, and it was the pride of kien lung. 'alas for the vanity of human wishes! in spite of every precaution, one night a fire broke out, and the hall of contemplation was in danger. the chinese of a century ago were not without fire-engines, and though miserably inefficient as compared with those of our london fire brigade, they were better than nothing, and a hundred of them were soon working round the burning building. the emperor himself came out to superintend their efforts and encourage them to renewed exertions. but the hall was doomed; a more than earthly power was directing the flames, and mortal efforts were of no avail. for on one of the burning rafters kien lung saw the figure of a little old man, with a long white beard, standing in a triumphant attitude. 'it is the god of fire,' said the emperor, 'we can do nothing;' so the building was allowed to blaze in peace. next day kien lung appointed a commission to go the round of the peking temples in order to discover in which of them there was a fire-god with a white beard, that he might worship him, and appease the offended deity. the search was fruitless; all the fire-gods had red beards. but the commission had done its work badly; being highly respectable mandarins of genteel families, they had confined their search to such temples as were in good repair and of creditable exterior. outside the north gate of the imperial city was one old, dilapidated, disreputable shrine which they had overlooked. it had been crumbling away for years, and even the dread figure of the god of fire, which sat above the altar, had not escaped desecration. 'time had thinned his flowing locks,' and the beard had fallen away altogether. one day some water-carriers who frequented the locality thought, either in charity or by way of a joke, that the face would look the better for a new beard. so they unravelled some cord, and with the frayed-out hemp adorned the beardless chin. an official passing the temple one day peeped in out of curiosity, and saw the hempen beard. 'just the thing the emperor was inquiring about,' said he to himself, and he took the news to the palace without delay. next day there was a state visit to the dilapidated temple, and kien lung made obeisance and vowed a vow. 'o fire-god,' said he, 'thou hast been wroth with me in that i have built me palaces, and left thy shrine unhonoured and in ruins. here do i vow to build thee a temple surpassed by none other of the fire-gods in peking; but i shall expect thee in future not to meddle with my palaces.' 'the emperor was as good as his word. the new temple is on the site of the old one, and the fire-god has a flowing beard of fine white hair.' in the san francisco bulletin, i recently read a description of the celebration by the chinese in that city of their feast for the dead, in which there are some significant features. the chief attention was paid, says the reporter, to a figure 'representing what answers in their theology to our devil, and whom they evidently think it necessary to propitiate before proceeding with their worship over individual graves.' this figure is on the west side of their temple; before and around it candles and joss-sticks were kept burning. on the east side was the better-looking figure, to which they paid comparatively little attention. it was of course but natural that the demons of fire should gradually be dispelled from that element in its normal aspects, as its uses became more important through human invention, and its evil possibilities were mastered. such demons became gradually located in the region of especially dangerous fires, as volcanoes and boiling springs. the titan whom the ancients believed struggling beneath Ætna remained there as the devil in the christian age. st. agatha is said to have prevented his vomiting fire for a century by her prayers. st. philip ascended the same mountain, and with book and candle pronounced a prayer of exorcism, at which three devils came out like fiery flying stones, crying, 'woe is us! we are still hunted by peter through philip the elder!' the volcanoes originated the belief that hell is at the earth's centre, and their busy vulcans of classic ages have been easily transformed into sulphurous lords of the christian hell. such is the mediæval haborym, demon of arson, with his three heads--man, cat, and serpent--who rides through the air mounted on a serpent, and bears in his hand a flaming torch. the astrologers assigned him command of twenty-six legions of demons in hell, and the superstitious often saw him laughing on the roofs of burning houses. [ ] but still more dignified is raum, who commands thirty legions, and who destroys villages; hence, also, concerned in the destructions of war, he became the demon who awards dignities; and although this made his usual form of apparition on the right bank of the rhine that of the odinistic raven, on the left bank he may be detected in the little red man who was reported as the familiar of napoleon i. during his career. among mr. gill's south pacific myths is one of a prometheus, maui, who by assistance of a red pigeon gets from the subterranean fire-demon the secret of producing fire (by rubbing sticks), the demon (mauike) being then consumed with his realm, and fire being brought to the upper world to remain the friend of man. in vedic legend, when the world was enveloped in darkness, the gods prayed to agni, who suddenly burst out as tvashtri--pure fire, the vedic vulcan--to the dismay of the universe. in eddaic sagas, loki was deemed the most voracious of beings until defeated in an eating match with logi (devouring fire). survivals of belief in the fiery nature of demons are very numerous. thus it is a very common belief that the devil cannot touch or cross water, and may therefore be escaped by leaping a stream. this has sometimes been supposed to have something to do with the purifying character of water; but there are many instances in christian folklore where the devil is shown quite independent of even holy water if it is not sprinkled on him or does not wet his feet. thus in the norfolk legend concerning st. godric, the devil is said to have thrown the vessel with its holy water at the saint's head out of anger at his singing a canticle which the virgin taught him. but when the devil attacked him in various ferocious animal shapes, st. godric escaped by running into the wear, where he sometimes stood all night in water up to his neck. the kobolds get the red jackets they are said to wear from their fiery nature. originally the lar familiaris of germany, the kobold became of many varieties; but in one line he has been developed from the house-spirit, whose good or evil temper was recognised in the comforts or dangers of fire, to a special stone-demon. the hell-dog in faust's room takes refuge from the spell of 'solomon's key' behind the stone, and is there transformed to human shape. the german maidens read many pretty oracles in the behaviour of the fire, and the like in that of its fellow wahrsager the house-dog. it is indeed a widespread notion that imps and witches lurk about the fireside, obviously in cat and dog, and ride through the air on implements that usually stand about the fire,--shovel, tongs, or broom. in paris it was formerly the custom to throw twenty-four cats into the fire on st. john's night, the animals being, according to m. de plancy, emblems of the devil. so was replaced the holocaust of human witches, until at last civilisation rang out its curfew for all such fires as that. chapter iii. cold. descent of ishtar into hades--bardism--baldur--hercules--christ --survivals of the frost giant in slavonic and other countries-- the clavie--the frozen hell--the northern abode of demons--north side of churches. even across immemorial generations it is impossible to read without emotion the legend of the descent of ishtar into hades. [ ] through seven gates the goddess of love passes in search of her beloved, and at each some of her ornaments and clothing are removed by the dread guardian. ishtar enters naked into the presence of the queen of death. but gods, men, and herds languish in her absence, and the wonder-working hea, the saviour, so charms the infernal queen, that she bids the judge of her realm, annunak, absolve ishtar from his golden throne. 'he poured out for ishtar the waters of life and let her go. then the first gate let her forth, and restored to her the first garment of her body. the second gate let her forth, and restored to her the diamonds of her hands and feet. the third gate let her forth, and restored to her the central girdle of her waist. the fourth gate let her forth, and restored to her the small lovely gems of her forehead. the fifth gate let her forth, and restored to her the precious stones of her head. the sixth gate let her forth, and restored to her the earrings of her ears. the seventh gate let her forth, and restored to her the great crown on her head.' this old miracle-play of nature--the return of summer flower by flower--is deciphered from an ancient assyrian tablet in a town within only a few hours of another, where a circle of worshippers repeat the same at every solstice! myfyr morganwg, the arch-druid, adores still hea by name as his saviour, and at the winter solstice assembles his brethren to celebrate his coming to bruise the head of the serpent of hades (annwn, nearly the same as in the tablet), that seedtime and harvest shall not fail. [ ] is this a survival? no doubt; but there is no cult in the world which, if 'scratched,' as the proverb says, will not reveal beneath it the same conception. however it may be spiritualised, every 'plan of salvation' is cast in the mould of winter conquered by the sun, the descent of love to the under world, the delivery of the imprisoned germs of life. it is very instructive to compare with the myth of ishtar that of hermödr, seeking the release of baldur the beautiful from helheim. the deadly powers of winter are represented in the eddaic account of the death of baldur, soft summer light, the norse baal. his blind brother hödr is darkness; the demon who directed his arrow is loki, subterranean fire; the arrow itself is of mistletoe, which, fostered by winter, owes no duty to baldur; and the realm to which he is borne is that of hel, the frozen zone. hermödr, having arrived, assured hel that the gods were in despair for the loss of baldur. the queen replied that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved. 'if, therefore, all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, he shall return to the Æsir.' in the end all wept but the old hag thokk (darkness), who from her cavern sang-- thokk will wail with dry eyes baldur's bale-fire. nought quick or dead for carl's son care i. let hel hold her own. so baldur remained in helheim. the myth very closely resembles that of ishtar's descent. in similar accent the messenger of the southern gods weeps and lacerates himself as he relates the grief of the upper world, and all men and animals 'since the time that mother ishtar descended into hades.' but in the latter the messenger is successful, in the north he is unsuccessful. in the corresponding myths of warm and sunny climes the effort at release is more or less successful, in proportion to the extent of winter. in adonis released from hades for four months every year, and another four if he chose to abandon persephone for aphrodite, we have a reflection of a variable year. that, and the similar myth of persephone, varied in the time specified for their passing in the upper and under worlds, probably in accordance with the climatic averages of the regions in which they were told. but in the tropics it was easy to believe the release complete, as in the myth of ishtar. in mangaian myths the hero, maui, escapes from a nether world of fire, aided by a red pigeon. when this contest between winter's death and spring's life became humanised, it was as hercules vanquishing death and completely releasing alcestis. when it became spiritualised it was as christ conquering death and hell, and releasing the spirits from prison. the wintry desolation had to be artificially imitated in a forty days' fast and lent, closing with a thrust from the spear (the mistletoe arrow) amid darkness (blind hödr). but the myth of a swift resurrection had to be artificially preserved in the far north. the legend of a full triumph over death and hell could never have originated among our norse ancestors. their only story resembling it, that of iduna, related how her recovery from the giants brought back health to the gods, not men. but it was from the south that men had to hear tidings of a rescue for the earth and man. we cannot realise now what glad tidings were they which told this new gospel to peoples sitting in regions of ice and gloom, after it had been imposed on them against their reluctant fears. in manifold forms the old combat was renewed in their festivals, and peoples who had long been prostrate and helpless before the terrible powers of nature were never weary of the southern fables of heroic triumphs over them, long interpreted in the simple physical sense. the great demon of the northern world is still winter, and the hereditary hatred of him is such that he is still cursed, scourged, killed, and buried or drowned under various names and disguises. in every slavonic country, says mr. ralston, there are to be found, about carnival time, traces of ancient rites, intended to typify the death of winter and the birth of spring or summer. in poland a puppet made of hemp or straw is flung into a pond or swamp with the words, 'the devil take thee!' then the participators in the deed scamper home, and if one of them stumbles and falls it is believed he will die within the year. in upper lausatia a similar figure is fastened on a pole to be pelted, then taken to the village boundary and thrown across it or cast into the water, its bearers returning with green boughs. sometimes the figure is shrouded in white, representing snow, and bears in its hands a broom (the sweeping storm) and a sickle (the fatal reaper). in russia the 'straw mujik' is burned, and also in bulgaria; in the latter the bonfire is accompanied by the firing of guns, and by dances and songs to lado, goddess of spring. this reminiscence of leto, on whose account apollo slew the python, is rendered yet more striking by the week of archery which accompanies it, recalling the sunbeam darts of the god. in spain and italy the demon puppet is scourged under the name of judas, as indeed is the case in the annual good friday performance of portuguese sailors in the london docks. mr. tylor found in mexico a similar custom, the judas being a regular horned and hoofed devil. in scotland the pre-christian accessories of a corresponding custom are more pronounced both in the time selected (the last day of the year, old style) and the place. 'the clavie,' as the custom of burning the puppet of winter is mysteriously called, occurred on january of this year ( ) at burghead, a fishing village near forres, where stands an old roman altar locally named the 'douro.' a tar-barrel was set on fire and carried by a fisherman round the town, while the people shouted and hallooed. (if the man who carries the barrel falls it is an evil omen.) the lighted barrel, having gone round the town, was carried to the top of the hill and placed on the douro. more fuel was added. the sparks as they fly upwards are supposed to be witches and evil spirits leaving the town; the people therefore shout at and curse them as they disappear in vacancy. when the burning tar-barrel falls in pieces, the fishwomen rush in and endeavour to get a lighted bit of wood from its remains; with this light the fire on the cottage hearth is at once kindled, and it is considered lucky to keep this flame alive all the rest of the year. the charcoal of the clavie is collected and put in bits up the chimney to prevent the witches and evil spirits coming into the house. the douro is covered with a thick layer of tar from the fires that are annually lighted upon it. close to it is a very ancient roman well. it is an instance of the irony of etymology that the word 'hell' means a place of fireless darkness. nor is the fact that the name of the scandinavian demoness hel, phonetically corresponding with kali, 'the black one' (goth. halja), whose abode was an icy hole, has her name preserved as a place of fiery torment, without significance. in regions where cold was known to an uncomfortable extent as well as heat, we usually find it represented in the ideas of future punishment. the realm called hades, meaning just the same as hell, suggests cold. tertullian and jerome say that christ's own phrases 'outer darkness' and the 'gnashing (chattering) of teeth' suggest a place of extreme cold alternating with the excessive heat. traces of similar speculations are found with the rabbins. thus rabbi joseph says gehenna had both water and fire. noah saw the angel of death approaching and hid from him twelve months. why twelve? because (explains rabbi jehuda) such is the trial of sinners,--six in water, six in fire. dante (following virgil) has frigid as well as burning hells; and the idea was refined by some scholiasts to a statement which would seem to make the alternations of future punishment amount to a severe ague and fever. milton (paradise lost, ii.) has blended the rabbinical notions with those of virgil (Æn. vi.) in his terrible picture of the frozen continent, where the parching air burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire: thither by harpy-footed furies haled at certain revolutions all the damn'd are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, from beds of raging fire to starve in ice their soft etherial warmth, and there to pine immovable, infix'd, and frozen round. with which may be compared shakespeare's lines in 'measure for measure'-- the de-lighted spirit to bathe in fiery floods, or to reside in thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice. in thibet hell is believed to have sixteen circles, eight burning, eight frozen, which m. delepierre attributes to the rapid changes of their climate between the extremes of heat and cold. [ ] plutarch, relating the vision of thespesius in hades, speaks of the frozen region there. denys le chartreux (de poenis inferni) says the severest of infernal torments is freezing. in the 'kalendar of shepherds' ( ) a legend runs:--'lazarus sayde, 'i sawe a flode of frosone yce in the whiche envyous men and women were plonged unto the navyll, and then sodynly came a colde wynde ryght great that blewe and dyd depe downe all the envyous into the colde water that nothynge was seen of them.' such, too, is persian ardá viráf's vision. the demon of cold has a habitat, naturally, in every northern region. he is the ke-mung of china, who--man-shaped, dragon-headed--haunts the chang river, and causes rain-storms. [ ] in greenland it is erleursortok, who suffers perpetual agues, and leaps on souls at death to satisfy his hunger. the chenoos (demons) of the mimacs of nova scotia present certain features of the race-demons, but are fearfully cold. the chenoo weapon is a dragon's horn, his yell is fatal to the hearer, his heart is a block of ice. this heart must be destroyed if the demon is to be slain, but it can only be done by melting in the fire: the chief precaution required is that one is not drowned in the flood so caused. the icy demon survived long in scotland. sir james melville, in his 'memoirs,' says 'the spirit or devil that helped the scottish witches to raise a storm in the sea of norway was cold as ice and his body hard as iron; his face was terrible, his nose like the beak of an eagle, great burning eyes, his hands and legs hairy, with claws on his nails like a griffin.' dr. fian was burnt for raising this demon to oppose james i. on his stormy passage from denmark. this type of demon haunted people's minds in scandinavia, where, though traditions of a flame demon (loki) and the end of the world by fire were imported, the popular belief seems to have been mainly occupied with frost giants, and the formidable oegir, god of the bleak sea east winds, preserved in our word awe (anglo-saxon ege), and more directly in the name of our familiar demon, the ogre, so often slain in the child's gladsheim. loki (fire) was, indeed, speedily relegated by the Æsir (gods) to a hidden subterraneous realm, where his existence could only be known by the earthquakes, geysers, and hecla eruptions which he occasioned. yet he was to come forth at ragnarök, the twilight of the gods. we can see a singular blending of tropical and frigid zones--the one traditional, the other native--in the prose edda. thus:--'what will remain,' said gangler, 'after heaven and earth and the whole universe shall be consumed, and after all the gods and the homes of valhalla and all mankind shall have perished?' 'there will be many abodes,' replied thridi, 'some good, some bad. the best place of all to be in will be gimil, in heaven; and all who delight in quaffing good drink will find a great store in the hall called brimir, which is also in heaven in the region okolni. there is also a fair hall of ruddy gold, (for) sindri, which stands on the mountains of nida. in those halls righteous and well-minded men shall abide. in ná-strönd there is a vast and direful structure with doors that face the north. it is formed entirely of the backs of serpents, wattled together like wicker-work. but the serpents' heads are turned towards the inside of the hall, and continually vomit forth floods of venom, in which wade all those who commit murder or who forswear themselves. as it is said in the völuspá:-- she saw a hall far from the sun in náströnd standing, northward the doors look, and venom-drops fall in through loopholes. formed is that hall of wreathed serpents. there saw she wade through heavy streams men forsworn and murderers. these names for the heavenly regions and their occupants indicate sunshine and fire. gimil means fire (gímr): brimir (brími, flame), the giant, and sindri (cinder), the dwarf, jeweller of the gods, are raised to halls of gold. nothing is said of a garden, or walking therein 'in the cool of the day.' on the other hand, ná-strönd means strand of the dead, in that region whose 'doors face the north, far from the sun,' we behold an inferno of extreme cold. christianity has not availed to give the icelanders any demonic name suggestive of fire. they speak of 'skratti' (the roarer, perhaps our old scratch), and 'kolski' (the coal black one), but promise nothing so luminous and comfortable as fire or fire-fiend to the evil-doer. in the great epic of the nibelungen lied we have probably the shape in which the northman's dream of paradise finally cohered,--a rose-garden in the south, guarded by a huge worm (water-snake, or glittering glacial sea intervening), whose glowing charms, with beauty (chriemhild) for their queen, could be won only by a brave dragon-slaying siegfried. in passing by the pretty lakeside home of richard wagner, on my way to witness the ammergau version of another dragon-binding and paradise-regaining legend, i noted that the old name of the (starnberg) lake was wurmsee, from the dragon that once haunted it, while from the composer's window might be seen its 'isle of roses,' which the dragon guarded. since then the myth of many forms has had its musical apotheosis at bayreuth under his wand. england, partly perhaps on account of its harsh climate, once had the reputation of being the chief abode of demons. a demoness leaving her lover on the continent says, 'my mother is calling me in england.' [ ] but england assigned them still higher latitudes; in christianising ireland, iona, and other islands far north, it was preliminary to expel the demons. 'the clavie,' the 'deis-iuil' of lewis and other hebrides islands--fire carried round cattle to defend them from demons, and around mothers not yet churched, to keep the babes from being 'changed'--show that the expulsion still goes on, though in such regions norse and christian notions have become so jumbled that it is 'fighting the devil with fire.' so in the havamal men are warned to invoke 'fire for distempers;' and gudrun sings-- raise, ye jarls, an oaken pile; let it under heaven the lightest be. may it burn a breast full of woes! the fire round my heart its sorrows melt. the last line is in contrast with the hindu saying, 'the flame of her husband's pyre cools the widow's breast.' the characters of the northern heaven and hell survive in the english custom of burying the dead on the southern side of a church. how widely this usage prevailed in brand's time may be seen by reference to his chapter on churchyards. the north side of the graveyard was set apart for unbaptized infants and executed criminals, and it was permitted the people to dance or play tennis in that part. dr. lee says that in the churchyard at morwenstow the southern portion only contains graves, the north part being untenanted; as the cornish believe (following old traditions) that the north is the region of demons. in some parishes of cornwall when a baptism occurs the north door of the nave opposite the font is thrown open, so that the devil cast out may retire to his own region, the north. [ ] this accords with the saying in martin's 'month's mind'--ab aquilone omne malum. indeed, it is not improbable that the fact noted by white, in his 'history of selborne,' that 'the usual approach to most country churches is by the south,' indicated a belief that the sacred edifice should turn its back on the region of demons. it is a singular instance of survival which has brought about the fact that people who listen devoutly to sermons describing the fiery character of satan and his abode should surround the very churches in which those sermons are heard with evidences of their lingering faith that the devil belongs to the region of ice, and that their dead must be buried in the direction of the happy abodes of brimir and sindri,--fire and cinders! m. françois lenormant has written an extremely instructive chapter in comparison of the accadian and the finnish mythologies. he there shows that they are as one and the same tree, adapted to antagonistic climates. [ ] with similar triad, runes, charms, and even names in some cases, their regard for the fire worshipped by both varies in a way that seems at first glance somewhat anomalous. the accadians in their fire-worship exhausted the resources of praise in ascription of glory and power to the flames; the finns in their cold home celebrated the fire festival at the winter solstice, uttered invocations over the fire, and the mother of the family, with her domestic libation, said: 'always rise so high, o my flame, but burn not larger nor more ardent!' this diminution of enthusiasm in the northern fire-worshipper, as compared with the southern, may only be the result of euphemism in the latter; or perhaps while the formidable character of the fire-god among the primitive assyrians is indicated in the utter prostration before him characteristic of their litanies and invocations, in the case of the finns the perpetual presence of the more potent cold led to the less excessive adoration. these ventured to recognise the faults of fire. the true nature of this anomaly becomes visible when we consider that the great demon, dreaded by the two countries drawing their cult from a common source, represented the excess of the power most dreaded. the demon in each case was a wind; among the finns the north wind, among the accadians the south-west (the most fiery) wind. the finnish demon was hiisi, speeding on his pale horse through the air, with a terrible train of monster dogs, cats, furies, scattering pain, disease, and death. [ ] the accadian demon, of which the bronze image is in the louvre, is the body of a dog, erect on eagle's feet, its arms pointed with lion's paws; it has the tail of a scorpion and the head of a skeleton, half stripped of flesh, preserving the eyes, and mounted with the horns of a goat. it has four outspread wings. on the back of this ingeniously horrible image is an inscription in the accadian language, apprising us that it is the demon of the south-west wind, made to be placed at the door or window, to avert its hostile action. as we observe such figures as these on the one hand, and on the other the fair beings imagined to be antagonistic to them; as we note in runes and incantations how intensely the ancients felt themselves to be surrounded by these good and evil powers, and, reading nature so, learned to see in the seasons successively conquering and conquered by each other, and alternation of longer days and longer nights, the changing fortunes of a never-ending battle; we may better realise the meaning of solstitial festivals, the customs that gathered around yuletide and new year, and the manifold survivals from them which annually masquerade in christian costume and names. to our sun-worshipping ancestor the new year meant the first faint advantage of the warmer time over winter, as nearly as he could fix it. the hovering of day between superiority of light and darkness is now named after doubting thomas. at yuletide the dawning victory of the sun is seen as a holy infant in a manger amid beasts of the stall. the old nature-worship has bequeathed to christian belief a close-fitting mantle. but the old idea of a war between the wintry and the warm powers still haunts the period of the new year; and the twelve days and nights, once believed to be the period of a fiercely-contested battle between good and evil demons, are still regarded by many as a period for especial watchfulness and prayer. new year's eve, in the north of england still 'hogmanay,'--probably o. n. höku-nött, midwinter-night, when the sacrifices of thor were prepared,--formerly had many observances which reflected the belief that good and evil ghosts were contending for every man and woman: the air was believed to be swarming with them, and watch must be kept to see that the protecting fire did not go out in any household; that no strange man, woman, or animal approached,--possibly a demon in disguise. sacred plants were set in doors and windows to prevent the entrance of any malevolent being from the multitudes filling the air. john wesley, whose noble heart was allied with a mind strangely open to stories of hobgoblins, led the way of churches and sects back into this ancient atmosphere. nevertheless, the rationalism of the age has influenced st. wesley's feast--watchnight. it can hardly recognise its brother in the boar's head banquet of queen's college, oxford, which celebrated victory over tusky winter, the decapitated demon whose bristles were once icicles fallen beneath the sylvan spirits of holly and rosemary. yet what the watchnight really signifies in the antiquarian sense is just that old culminating combat between the powers of fire and frost, once believed to determine human fates. in white russia, on new year's day, when the annual elemental battle has been decided, the killed and wounded on one hand, and the fortunate on the other, are told by carrying from house to house the rich and the poor kolyadas. these are two children, one dressed in fine attire, and crowned with a wreath of full ears of grain, the other ragged, and wearing a wreath of threshed straw. these having been closely covered, each householder is called in, and chooses one. if his choice chances upon the 'poor kolyada,' the attending chorus chant a mournful strain, in which he is warned to expect a bad harvest, poverty, and perhaps death; if he selects the 'rich kolyada,' a cheerful song is sung promising him harvest, health, and wealth. the natives of certain districts of dardistan assign political and social significance to their feast of fire, which is celebrated in the month preceding winter, at new moon, just after their meat provision for the season is laid in to dry. their legend is, that it was then their national hero slew their ancient tyrant and introduced good government. this legend, related elsewhere, is of a tyrant slain through the discovery that his heart was made of snow. he was slain by the warmth of torches. in the celebrations all the men of the villages go forth with torches, which they swing round their heads, and throw in the direction of ghilgit, where the snow-hearted tyrant so long held his castle. when the husbands return home from their torch-throwing a little drama is rehearsed. the wives refuse them entrance till they have entreated, recounting the benefits they have brought them; after admission the husband affects sulkiness, and must be brought round with caresses to join in the banquet. the wife leads him forward with this song:--'thou hast made me glad, thou favourite of the rajah! thou hast rejoiced me, oh bold horseman! i am pleased with thee who so well usest the gun and sword! thou hast delighted me, oh thou invested with a mantle of honours! oh great happiness, i will buy it by giving pleasure's price! oh thou nourishment to us, heap of corn, store of ghee--delighted will i buy it all by giving pleasure's price!' chapter iv. elements. a scottish munasa--rudra--siva's lightning eye--the flaming sword--limping demons--demons of the storm--helios, elias, perun--thor arrows--the bob-tailed dragon--whirlwind--japanese thunder god--christian survivals--jinni--inundations--noah--nik, nicholas, old nick--nixies--hydras--demons of the danube--tides--survivals in russia and england. during some recent years curious advertisements have appeared in a journal of edinburgh, calling for pious persons to occupy certain hours of the night with holy exercises. it would appear that they refer to a band of prayerful persons who provide that there shall be an unbroken round of prayers during every moment of the day and night. their theory is, that it is the usual cessation of christian prayers at night which causes so many disasters. the devils being then less restrained, raise storms and all elemental perils. the praying circle, which hopes to bind these demons by an uninterrupted chain of prayers, originated, as i am informed, in the pious enthusiasm of a lady whose kindly solicitude in some pre-existent sister was no doubt personified in the hindu munasa, who, while all gods slept, sat in the shape of a serpent on a branch of euphorbia to preserve mankind from the venom of snakes. it is to be feared, however, that it is hardly the wisdom of the serpent which is on prayerful watch at edinburgh, but rather a vigilance of that perilous kind which was exercised by 'meggie o' the shore,' anno , as related by hugh miller. [ ] on a boisterous night, when two young girls had taken refuge in her cottage, they all heard about midnight cries of distress mingling with the roar of the sea, 'raise the window curtain and look out,' said meggie. the terrified girls did so, and said, 'there is a bright light in the middle of the bay of udall. it hangs over the water about the height of a ship's mast, and we can see something below it like a boat riding at anchor, with the white sea raging around her.' 'now drop the curtain,' said meggie; 'i am no stranger, my lasses, to sights and noises like these--sights and noises of another world; but i have been taught that god is nearer to me than any spirit can be; and so have learned not to be afraid.' afterwards it is not wonderful that a cromarty yawl was discovered to have foundered, and all on board to have been drowned; though meggie's neighbours seemed to have preserved the legend after her faith, and made the scene described a premonition of what actually occurred. it was in a region where mariners when becalmed invoke the wind by whistling; and both the whistling and the praying, though their prospects in the future may be slender, have had a long career in the past. in the 'rig-veda' there is a remarkable hymn to rudra (the roarer), which may be properly quoted here:-- . sire of the storm gods, let thy favour extend to us; shut us not out from the sight of the sun; may our hero be successful in the onslaught. o rudra, may we wax mighty in our offspring. . through the assuaging remedies conferred by thee, o rudra, may we reach a hundred winters; drive away far from us hatred, distress, and all-pervading diseases. . thou, o rudra, art the most excellent of beings in glory, the strongest of the strong, o wielder of the bolt; bear us safely through evil to the further shore; ward off all the assaults of sin. . may we not provoke thee to anger, o rudra, by our adorations, neither through faultiness in praises, nor through wantonness in invocations; lift up our heroes by thy remedies; thou art, i hear, the chief physician among physicians. . may i propitiate with hymns this rudra who is worshipped with invocations and oblations; may the tender-hearted, easily-entreated, tawny-haired, beautiful-chinned god not deliver us up to the plotter of evil [literally, to the mind meditating 'i kill']. . the bounteous giver, escorted by the storm-gods, hath gladdened me, his suppliant, with most invigorating food; as one distressed by heat seeketh the shade, may i, free from harm, find shelter in the good-will of rudra. . where, o rudra, is that gracious hand of thine, which is healing and comforting? do thou, removing the evil which cometh from the gods, o bounteous giver, have mercy upon me. . to the tawny, the fair-complexioned dispenser of bounties, i send forth a great and beautiful song of praise; adore the radiant god with prostrations; we hymn the illustrious name of rudra. . sturdy-limbed, many-shaped, fierce, tawny, he hath decked himself with brilliant ornaments of gold; truly strength is inseparable from rudra, the sovereign of this vast world. . worthy of worship, thou bearest the arrows and the bow; worthy of worship, thou wearest a resplendent necklace of many forms; worthy of worship, thou rulest over this immense universe; there is none, o rudra, mightier than thou. . celebrate the renowned and ever-youthful god who is seated on a chariot, who is, like a wild beast, terrible, fierce, and destructive; have mercy upon the singer, o rudra, when thou art praised; may thy hosts strike down another than us. . as a boy saluteth his father who approacheth and speaketh to him, so, o rudra, i greet thee, the giver of much, the lord of the good; grant us remedies when thou art praised. . your remedies, o storm-gods, which are pure and helping, o bounteous givers, which are joy-conferring, which our father manu chose, these and the blessing and succour of rudra i crave. . may the dart of rudra be turned aside from us, may the great malevolence of the flaming-god be averted; unbend thy strong bow from those who are liberal with their wealth; o generous god, have mercy upon our offspring and our posterity (i.e., our children and children's children). . thus, o tawny rudra, wise giver of gifts, listen to our cry, give heed to us here, that thou mayest not be angry with us, o god, nor slay us; may we, rich in heroic sons, utter great praise at the sacrifice. [ ] in other hymns the malevolent character of rudra is made still more prominent:-- . slay not our strong man nor our little child, neither him who is growing nor him who is grown, neither our father nor our mother; hurt not, o rudra, our dear selves. . harm us not in our children and children's children, nor in our men, nor in our kine, nor in our horses. smite not our heroes in thy wrath; we wait upon thee perpetually with offerings. [ ] in this hymn (verse ) rudra is described as 'having braided hair;' and in the 'yajur-veda' and the 'atharva-veda' other attributes of siva are ascribed to him, such as the epithet nîla-grîva, or blue-necked. in the 'rig-veda' siva occurs frequently as an epithet, and means auspicious. it was used as a euphemistic epithet to appease rudra, the lord of tempests; and finally, the epithet developed into a distinct god. the parentage of siva is further indicated in the legends that his glance destroyed the head of the youthful deity ganesa, who now wears the elephant head, with which it was replaced; and that the gods persuaded him to keep his eyes perpetually winking (like sheet-lightning), lest his concentrated look (the thunderbolt) should reduce the universe to ashes. with the latter legend the gaze of the evil eye in india might naturally be associated, though in the majority of countries this was rather associated with the malign influences ascribed to certain planets, especially saturn; the charms against the evil eye being marked over with zodiacal signs. the very myth of siva's eye survives in the russian demon magarko ('winker') and the servian vii, whose glance is said to have power to reduce men, and even cities, to ashes. the terrible rudra is represented in a vast number of beliefs, some of them perhaps survivals; in the rough sea and east-wind demon oegir of the northern world, and typhon in the south; and in luther's faith that 'devils do house in the dense black clouds, and send storms, hail, thunder and lightning, and poison the air with their infernal stench,' a doctrine which burton, the anatomist of melancholy, too, maintained against the meteorologists of his time. among the ancient aryans lightning seems to have been the supreme type of divine destructiveness. rudra's dart, siva's eye, reappear with the singhalese prince of demons wessamonny, described as wielding a golden sword, which, when he is angry, flies out of his hand, to which it spontaneously returns, after cutting off a thousand heads. [ ] a wonderful spear was borne by odin, and was possibly the original excalibur. the four-faced sviatevit of russia, whose mantle has fallen to st. george, whose statue was found at zbrucz in , bore a horn of wine (rain) and a sword (lightning). in greece similar swords were wielded by zeus, and also by the god of war. through zeus and ares, the original wielders of the lightning--indra and siva--became types of many gods and semi-divine heroes. the evil eye of siva glared from the forehead of the cyclopes, forgers of thunderbolts; and the saving disc of indra flashed in the swords and arrows of famous dragon-slayers--perseus, pegasus, hercules, and st. george. the same sword defended the tree of life in eden, and was borne in the hand of death on the pale horse (a white horse was sacrificed to sviatevit in russia within christian times). and, finally, we have the wonderful sword which obeys the command 'heads off!' delighting all nurseries by the service it does to the king of the golden mountain. 'i beheld satan as lightning falling out of heaven.' to the greeks this falling of rebellious deities out of heaven accounted, as we have seen explained, for their lameness. but a universal phenomenon can alone account for the many demons with crooked or crippled legs (like 'diable boiteux') [ ] all around the world. the namaquas of south africa have a 'deity' whose occupation it is to cause pain and death; his name is tsui'knap, that is 'wounded knee.' [ ] livingstone says of the bakwains, another people of south africa, 'it is curious that in all their pretended dreams or visions of their god he has always a crooked leg, like the egyptian thau.' [ ] in mainas, south america, they believe in a treacherous demon, uchuella-chaqui, or lame-foot, who in dark forests puts on a friendly shape to lure indians to destruction; but the huntsmen say they can never be deceived if they examine this demon's foot-track, because of the unequal size of the two feet. [ ] the native australians believed in a demon named biam; he is black and deformed in his lower extremities; they attributed to him many of their songs and dances, but also a sort of small-pox to which they were liable. [ ] we have no evidence that these superstitions migrated from a common centre; and there can be little doubt that many of these crooked legs are traceable to the crooked lightning. [ ] at the same time this is by no means inconsistent with what has been already said of the fall of titans and angels from heaven as often accounting for their lameness in popular myths. but in such details it is hard to reach certainty, since so many of the facts bear a suspicious resemblance to each other. a wild boar with 'distorted legs' attacked st. godric, and the temptation is strong to generalise on the story, but the legs probably mean only to certify that it was the devil. dr. schliemann has unearthed among his other treasures the remarkable fact that a temple of helios (the sun) once stood near the site of the present church of elias, at mycenæ, which has from time immemorial been the place to which people repair to pray for rain. [ ] when the storm-breeding sun was succeeded by the prophet whose prayer evoked the cloud, even the name of the latter did not need to be changed. the discovery is the more interesting because it has always been a part of the christian folklore of that region that, when a storm with lightning occurs, it is 'elias in his chariot of fire.' a similar phrase is used in some part of every aryan country, with variation of the name: it is woden, or king waldemar, or the grand veneur, or sometimes god, who is said to be going forth in his chariot. these storm-demons in their chariots have their forerunner in vata or vayu, the subject of one of the most beautiful vedic hymns. 'i celebrate the glory of vata's chariot; its noise comes rending and resounding. touching the sky he moves onward, making all things ruddy; and he comes propelling the dust of the earth. 'soul of the gods, source of the universe, this deity moves as he lists. his sounds have been heard, but his form is not seen; this vata let us worship with an oblation.' [ ] this last verse, as mr. muir has pointed out, bears a startling resemblance to the passage in john, 'the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the wind.' [ ] but an equally striking development of the vedic idea is represented in the siamese legend of buddha, and in this case the vedic wind-god vayu reappears by name for the angels of tempests, or loka phayu. the first portent which preceded the descent of buddha from the tushita heavens was 'when the angels of the tempest, clothed in red garments, and with streaming hair, travel among the abodes of mankind crying, 'attend all ye who are near to death; repent and be not heedless! the end of the world approaches, but one hundred thousand years more and it will be destroyed. exert yourselves, then, exert yourselves to acquire merit. above all things be charitable; abstain from doing evil; meditate with love to all beings, and listen to the teachings of holiness. for we are all in the mouth of the king of death. strive then earnestly for meritorious fruits, and seek that which is good.' [ ] not less remarkable is the targum of jonathan ben uzziel to kings xix., where around elias on the mountain gather 'a host of angels of the wind, cleaving the mountain and breaking the rocks before the lord;' and after these, 'angels of commotion,' and next 'of fire,' and, finally, 'voices singing in silence' preceded the descent of jehovah. it can hardly be wondered that a prophet of whom this story was told, and that of the storm evoked from a small cloud, should be caught up into that chariot of the vedic vayu which has rolled on through all the ages of mythology. mythologic streams seem to keep their channels almost as steadfastly as rivers, but as even these change at last or blend, so do the old traditions. thus we find that while thor and odin remain as separate in survivals as vayu and parjanya in india, in russia elias has inherited not the mantle of the wind-god or storm-breeding sun, but of the slavonic thunderer perun. there is little doubt that this is parjanya, described in the 'rig-veda' as 'the thunderer, the showerer, the bountiful,' [ ] who 'strikes down trees' and 'the wicked.' 'the people of novgorod,' says herberstein, 'formerly offered their chief worship and adoration to a certain idol named perun. when subsequently they received baptism they removed it from its place, and threw it into the river volchov; and the story goes that it swam against the stream, and that near the bridge a voice was heard saying, 'this for you, o inhabitants of novgorod, in memory of me;' and at the same time a certain rope was thrown upon the bridge. even now it happens from time to time on certain days of the year that this voice of perun may be heard, and on these occasions the citizens run together and lash each other with ropes, and such a tumult arises therefrom that all the efforts of the governor can scarcely assuage it.' [ ] the statue of perun in kief, says mr. ralston, had a trunk of wood, while the head was of silver, with moustaches of gold, and among its weapons was a mace. afanasief states that in white-russian traditions perun is tall and well-shaped, with black hair and a long golden beard. this beard relates him to barbarossa, and, perhaps, though distantly, with the wood-demon barbatos, the wild archer, who divined by the songs of birds. [ ] perun also has a bow which is 'sometimes identified with the rainbow, an idea which is known also to the finns. from it, according to the white russians, are shot burning arrows, which set on fire all things that they touch. in many parts of russia (as well as of germany) it is supposed that these bolts sink deep into the soil, but that at the end of three or seven years they return to the surface in the shape of longish stones of a black or dark grey colour--probably belemnites, or masses of fused sand--which are called thunderbolts, and considered as excellent preservations against lightning and conflagrations. the finns call them ukonkiwi--the stone of thunder-god ukko, and in courland their name is perkuhnsteine, which explains itself. in some cases the flaming dart of perun became, in the imagination of the people, a golden key. with it he unlocked the earth, and brought to light its concealed treasures, its restrained waters, its captive founts of light. with it also he locked away in safety fugitives who wished to be put out of the power of malignant conjurors, and performed various other good offices. appeals to him to exercise these functions still exist in the spells used by the peasants, but his name has given way to that of some christian personage. in one of them, for instance, the archangel michael is called upon to secure the invoker behind an iron door fastened by twenty-seven locks, the keys of which are given to the angels to be carried to heaven. in another, john the baptist is represented as standing upon a stone in the holy sea [i.e., in heaven], resting upon an iron crook or staff, and is called upon to stay the flow of blood from a wound, locking the invoker's veins 'with his heavenly key.' in this case the myth has passed into a rite. in order to stay a violent bleeding from the nose, a locked padlock is brought, and the blood is allowed to drop through its aperture, or the sufferer grasps a key in each hand, either plan being expected to prove efficacious. as far as the key is concerned, the belief seems to be still maintained among ourselves.' [ ] the key has a holy sense in various religions, and consequently an infernal key is its natural counterpart. the vedic hymns, which say so much about the shutting and opening, imprisoning and releasing, of heavenly rains and earthly fruits by demons and deities, interpret many phenomena of nature, and the same ideas have arisen in many lands. we cannot be certain, therefore, that calmet is right in assigning an indian origin to the subjoined figure , an ancient persian medal. the signs of the zodiac on its body show it to be one of those celestial demons believed able to bind the beneficent or loose the formidable powers of nature. the key is of especial import in hebrew faith. it was the high-priest eliakim's symbol of office, as being also prefect in the king's house. 'the key of the house of david will i lay upon his shoulder: he shall open and none shall shut; he shall shut and none shall open.' [ ] the rabbins had a saying that god reserves to himself four keys, which he will intrust not even to the angels: the key of rain, the key of the grave, the key of fruitfulness, and the key of barrenness. it was the sign of one set above angels when christ was seen with the keys of hell and death, or when he delivered the keys of heaven to peter, [ ]--still thrust down the backs of protestant children to cure nose-bleed. the ubiquitous superstition which attributes the flint arrows of pre-historic races to gods, shot by them as lightning, and, as some said, from a rainbow, is too childlike a theory to call for elaborate treatment. we need not, ethnographically, connect our 'thor arrows' and 'elf shots' with the stones hurled at mortals by the thunder-duke (lui-tsz) of china. the ancient parthians, who used to reply to the thunderstorm by shooting arrows at it, and the turks, who attack an eclipse with guns, fairly represent the infancy of the human race, though perhaps with more than its average pluck. dr. macgowan relates, concerning the lei-chau (thunder district) of china, various myths which resemble those which surround the world. after thunderstorms, black stones, it is believed, may be found which emit light and peculiar sounds on being struck. in a temple consecrated to the thunder duke the people annually place a drum for that stormy demon to beat. the drum was formerly left on a mountain-top with a little boy as a sacrifice. [ ] mr. dennys [ ] speaks of the belief in the same country that violent winds and typhoons are caused by the passage through the air of the 'bob-tailed dragon,' and also of the rain-god yü-shüh. a storm-god connected with the 'eagre,' or bore of the river tsien-tang, presents a coincidence of name with the scandinavian oegir, which would be hardly noticeable were it not for the very close resemblance between the folklore concerning the 'bob-tailed dragon' and the storm-dragons of several aryan races. generally, in both china and japan the dragon is regarded with a veneration equal to the horror with which the serpent is visited. of this phenomenon and its analogies in britain i shall have an explanation to submit when we come to consider dragon-myths more particularly. to this general rule the 'bob-tailed dragon' of china is a partial exception. his fidelity as a friend led to the ill return of an attack by which his tail was amputated, and ever since his soured temper has shown itself in raising storms. when a violent tempest arises the cantonese say, 'the bob-tailed dragon is passing,' in the same proverbial way as the aryan peasantries attribute the same phenomenon to their storm-gods. the notion is widely prevalent in some districts of france that all whirlwinds, however slight, are caused by wizards or witches, who are in them, careering through the air; and it is stated by the melusine that in the department of the orne storms are attributed to the clergy, who are supposed to be circling in them. the same excellent journal states that some years ago, in that department, a parishioner who saw his crops threatened by a hail-storm fired into the cloud. the next day he heard that the parish priest had broken his leg by a fall for which he could not account. the following examples are given by kuhn. near stangenhagen is a treasure hid in a mountain which lord von thümen tried to seek, but was caught up with his horse by a whirlwind and deposited at home again. the devil is believed to be seated at the centre of every whirlwind. at biesenthal it is said a noble lady became the wind's bride. she was in her time a famous rider and huntress, who rode recklessly over farmers' fields and gardens; now she is herself hunted by snakes and dragons, and may be heard howling in every storm. i suspect that the bristling hair so frequently portrayed in the japanese oni, devils, refers to their frequent residence at the centre of a gale of wind. their demon of the storm is generally pictured throned upon a flower of flames, his upraised and extended fingers emitting the most terrific lightnings, which fall upon his victims and envelop them in flames. sometimes, however, the japanese artists poke fun at their thunder-god, and show him sprawling on the ground from the recoil of his own lightnings. the following extract from the christian herald (london, april , ) will show how far the dread of this japanese oni extends: 'a pious father writes, 'a few days ago there was a severe thunderstorm, which seemed to gather very heavily in the direction where my son lived; and i had a feeling that i must go and pray that he might be protected, and not be killed by the lightning. the impression seemed to say, 'there is no time to be lost.' i obeyed, and went and knelt down and prayed that the lord would spare his life. i believe he heard my prayer. my son called on me afterwards, and, speaking of the shower, said, 'the lightning came downwards and struck the very hoe in my hands, and numbed me.' i said, 'perhaps you would have been killed if some one had not been praying for you.' since then he has been converted, and, i trust, will be saved in god's everlasting kingdom.'' such paragraphs may now strike even many christians as 'survivals.' but it is not so very long since some eminent clergymen looked upon benjamin franklin as the heaven-defying ajax of christendom, because he undertook to show people how they might divert the lightnings from their habitations. in those days franklin personally visited a church at streatham, whose steeple had been struck by lightning, and, after observing the region, gave an opinion that if the steeple were again erected without a lightning-rod, it would again be struck. the audacious man who 'snatched sceptres from tyrants and lightnings from heaven,' as the proverb ran, was not listened to: the steeple was rebuilt, and again demolished by lightning. the supreme god of the quichuas (american), viracocha ('sea foam'), rises out of lake titicaca, and journeys with lightnings for all opposers, to disappear in the western ocean. the quichua is mentally brother of the arab camel-driver. 'the sea,' it is said in the 'arabian nights,'--'the sea became troubled before them, and there arose from it a black pillar, ascending towards the sky, and approaching the meadow,' and 'behold it was a jinn [ ] of gigantic stature.' the jinn is sometimes helpful as it is formidable; it repays the fisherman who unseals it from the casket fished up from the sea, as fruitfulness comes out of the cloud no larger than a man's hand evoked by elijah. the perilous jinn described in the above extract is the waterspout. waterspouts are attributed in china to the battles of dragons in the air, and the same country recognises a demon of high tides. the newest goddess in china is a canonised protectress against the shipwrecking storm-demons of the coast, an exaltation recently proclaimed by the government of the empire in obedience, as the edict stated, to the belief prevailing among sailors. in this the chinese are a long way behind the mariners and fishermen of the french coast, who have for centuries, by a pious philology, connected 'maria' with 'la marée' and 'la mer;' and whenever they have been saved from storms, bring their votive offerings to sea-side shrines of the star of the sea. the old jewish theology, in its eagerness to claim for jehovah the absolutism which would make him 'lord of lords,' instituted his responsibility for many doubtful performances, the burthen of which is now escaped by the device of saying that he 'permitted' them. in this way the elohim who brought on the deluge have been identified with jehovah. none the less must we see in the biblical account of the flood the action of tempestuous water-demons. what power a christian would recognise in such an event were it related in the sacred books of another religion may be seen in the vision of the apocalypse--'the serpent cast out of his mouth a flood of water after the woman, that he might cause her to be carried away with the flood; and the earth helped the woman and opened its mouth and swallowed up the flood.' this demon of inundation meets the explorer of egyptian and accadian inscriptions at every turn. the terrible seven, whom even the god of fire cannot control, 'break down the banks of the abyss of waters.' [ ] the god of the tigris, tourtak (tartak of the bible), is 'the great destroyer.' [ ] leviathan 'maketh the deep to boil like a pot:' 'when he raises up himself the mighty are afraid; by reason of breakings they purify themselves.' [ ] in the astronomical tablets, which professor sayce dates about b.c. , we have the continual association of eclipse and flood: 'on the fifteenth day an eclipse takes place. the king dies; and rains in the heaven, floods in the channels are.' 'in the month of elul (august), the fourteenth day, an eclipse takes place.... northward ... its shadow is seen; and to the king of mullias a crown is given. to the king the crown is an omen; and over the king the eclipse passes. rains in heaven, floods in the channels flow. a famine is in the country. men their sons for silver sell.' 'after a year the air-god inundates.' [ ] in the chaldæo-babylonian cosmogony the three zones of the universe were ruled over by a triad as follows: the heaven by anu; the surface of the earth, including the atmosphere, by bel; the under-world by nouah. [ ] this same nouah is the assyrian hea or saviour; and it is noah of the bible. the name means a rest or residence,--the place where man may dwell. when tiamat the dragon, or the leviathan, opens 'the fountains of the great deep,' and anu 'the windows of heaven,' it is hea or noah who saves the life of man. m. françois lenormant has shown this to be the probable sense of one of the most ancient accadian fragments in the british museum. in it allusion is made to 'the serpent of seven heads ... that beats the sea.' [ ] hea, however, appears to be more clearly indicated in a fragment which professor sayce appends to this:-- below in the abyss the forceful multitudes may they sacrifice. the overwhelming fear of anu in the midst of heaven encircles his path. the spirits of earth, the mighty gods, withstand him not. the king like a lightning-flash opened. adar, the striker of the fortresses of the rebel band, opened. like the streams in the circle of heaven i besprinkled the seed of men. his marching in the fealty of bel to the temple i directed, (he is) the hero of the gods, the protector of mankind, far (and) near.... o my lord, life of nebo (breathe thy inspiration), incline thine ear. o adar, hero, crown of light, (breathe) thy inspiration, (incline) thine ear. the overwhelming fear of thee may the sea know.... thy setting (is) the herald of his rest from marching, in thy marching merodach (is) at rest [ ].... thy father on his throne thou dost not smite. bel on his throne thou dost not smite. the spirits of earth on their throne may he consume. may thy father into the hands of thy valour cause (them) to go forth. may bel into the hands of thy valour cause (them) to go forth. (the king, the proclaimed) of anu, the firstborn of the gods. he that stands before bel, the heart of the life of the house of the beloved. [ ] the hero of the mountain (for those that) die in multitudes.... the one god, he will not urge. [ ] in this primitive fragment we find the hero of the mountain (noah), invoking both bel and nebo, aerial and infernal intelligences, and adar the chaldæan hercules, for their 'inspiration'--that breath which, in the biblical story, goes forth in the form of the dove ('the herald of his rest' in the accadian fragment), and in the 'wind' by which the waters were assuaged (in the fragment 'the spirits of the earth' which are given into the hand of the violent 'hero of the mountain,' whom alone the gods 'will not urge'). the hydra may be taken as a type of the destructive water-demon in a double sense, for its heads remain in many mythical forms. the syrian dagon and atergatis, fish-deities, have bequeathed but their element to our undines of romance. some nymphs have so long been detached from aqueous associations as to have made their names puzzling, and their place in demonology more so. to the nixy (nêchô) of germany, now merely mischievous like the british pixy, many philologists trace the common phrase for the devil,--'old nick.' i believe, however, that this phrase owes its popularity to st. nicholas rather than to the norse water-god whose place he was assigned after the christian accession. this saintly poseidon, who, from being the patron of fishermen, gradually became associated with that demon whom, sir walter scott said, 'the british sailor feared when he feared nothing else,' was also of old the patron of pirates; and robbers were called 'st. nicholas' clerks.' [ ] in norway and the netherlands the ancient belief in the demon nikke was strong; he was a kind of wild huntsman of the sea, and has left many legends, of which 'the flying dutchman' is one. but my belief is that, through his legendary relation to boys, st. nicholas gave the name old nick its modern moral accent. because of his reputation for having restored to life three murdered children st. nicholas was made their patron, and on his day, december , it was the old custom to consecrate a boy-bishop, who held office until the th of the month. by this means he became the moral appendage of the old wodan god of the germanic races, who was believed in winter time to find shelter in and shower benefits from evergreens, especially firs, on his favourite children who happened to wander beneath them. 'bartel,' 'klaubauf,' or whatever he might be called, was reduced to be the servant of st. nicholas, whose name is now jumbled into 'santaclaus.' according to the old custom he appeared attended by his knecht klaubauf--personated by those who knew all about the children--bringing a sort of doomsday. the gifts having been bestowed on the good children, st. nicholas then ordered klaubauf to put the naughty ones into his pannier and carry them off for punishment. the terror and shrieks thus caused have created vast misery among children, and in munich and some other places the authorities have very properly made such tragedies illegal. but for many centuries it was the custom of nurses and mothers to threaten refractory children with being carried off at the end of the year by nicholas; and in this way each year closed, in the young apprehension, with a judgment day, a weighing of souls, and a devil or old nick as agent of retribution. nick has long since lost his aquatic character, and we find his name in the far west (america) turning up as 'the nick of the woods,'--the wild legend of a settler who, following a vow of vengeance for his wrongs, used to kill the red men while they slept, and was supposed to be a demon. the japanese have a water-dragon--kappa--of a retributive and moral kind, whose office it is to swallow bad boys who go to swim in disobedience to their parents' commands, or at improper times and places. it is not improbable that such dangers to the young originated some of the water-demons,--probably such as are thought of as diminutive and mischievous,--e.g., nixies. the nixa was for a long time on the baltic coast the female 'old nick,' and much feared by fishermen. her malign disposition is represented in the kelpie of scotland,--a water-horse, believed to carry away the unwary by sudden floods to devour them. in germany there was a river-goddess whose temple stood at magdeburg, whence its name. a legend exists of her having appeared in the market there in christian costume, but she was detected by a continual dripping of water from the corner of her apron. in germany the nixies generally played the part of the naiads of ancient times. [ ] in russia similar beings, called rusalkas, are much more formidable. in many regions of christendom it is related that these demons, relatives of the swan-maidens, considered in another chapter, have been converted into friendly or even pious creatures, and baptized into saintly names. sometimes there are legends which reveal this transition. thus it is related that in the year , the dikes of holland being broken down by a violent tempest, the sea overflowed the meadows; and some maidens of the town of edam, in west friesland, going in a boat to milk their cows, espied a mermaid embarrassed in the mud, the waters being very shallow. they took it into their boat and brought it to edam, and dressed it in women's apparel, and taught it to spin. it ate as they did, but could not be brought to speak. it was carried to haarlem, where it lived for some years, though showing an inclination to water. parival, who tells the story, relates that they had conveyed to it some notions of the existence of a deity, and it made its reverences devoutly whenever it passed a crucifix. another creature of the same species was in the year caught in the baltic, and sent as a present to sigismund, king of poland. it was seen by all the persons about the court, but only lived three days. the hydra--the torrent which, cut off in one direction, makes many headways in others--has its survivals in the many diabolical names assigned to boiling springs and to torrents that become dangerously swollen. in california the boiling springs called 'devil's tea-kettle' and 'devil's mush-pot' repeat the 'devil's punch-bowls' of europe, and the innumerable devil's dikes and ditches. st. gerard's hill, near pesth, on which the saint suffered martyrdom, is believed to be crowded with devils whenever an inundation threatens the city; they indulge in fiendish laughter, and play with the telescopes of the observatory, so that they who look through them afterwards see only devils' and witches' dances! [ ] at buda, across the river from pesth, is the famous 'devil's ditch,' which the inhabitants use as a sewer while it is dry, making it a gehenna to poison them with stenches, but which often becomes a devastating torrent when thaw comes on the blocksberg. in the inhabitants vaulted it over to keep away the normal stench, but the hydra-head so lopped off grew again, and in july swallowed up a hundred people. [ ] the once perilous strudel and wirbel of the danube are haunted by diabolical legends. from dr. william beattie's admirable work on 'the danube' i quote the following passages:--'after descending the greinerschwall, or rapids of grein above mentioned, the river rolls on for a considerable space, in a deep and almost tranquil volume, which, by contrast with the approaching turmoil, gives increased effect to its wild, stormy, and romantic features. at first a hollow, subdued roar, like that of distant thunder, strikes the ear and rouses the traveller's attention. this increases every second, and the stir and activity which now prevail among the hands on board show that additional force, vigilance, and caution are to be employed in the use of the helm and oars. the water is now changed in its colour--chafed into foam, and agitated like a seething cauldron. in front, and in the centre of the channel, rises an abrupt, isolated, and colossal rock, fringed with wood, and crested with a mouldering tower, on the summit of which is planted a lofty cross, to which in the moment of danger the ancient boatmen were wont to address their prayers for deliverance. the first sight of this used to create no little excitement and apprehension on board; the master ordered strict silence to be observed, the steersman grasped the helm with a firmer hand, the passengers moved aside, so as to leave free space for the boatmen, while the women and children were hurried into the cabin, there to await, with feelings of no little anxiety, the result of the enterprise. every boatman, with his head uncovered, muttered a prayer to his patron saint; and away dashed the barge through the tumbling breakers, that seemed as if hurrying it on to inevitable destruction. all these preparations, joined by the wildness of the adjacent scenery, the terrific aspect of the rocks, and the tempestuous state of the water, were sufficient to produce a powerful sensation on the minds even of those who had been all their lives familiar with dangers; while the shadowy phantoms with which superstition had peopled it threw a deeper gloom over the whole scene.' concerning the whirlpool called wirbel, and the surrounding ruins, the same author writes: 'each of these mouldering fortresses was the subject of some miraculous tradition, which circulated at every hearth. the sombre and mysterious aspect of the place, its wild scenery, and the frequent accidents which occurred in the passage, invested it with awe and terror; but above all, the superstitions of the time, a belief in the marvellous, and the credulity of the boatmen, made the navigation of the strudel and the wirbel a theme of the wildest romance. at night, sounds that were heard far above the roar of the danube issued from every ruin. magical lights flashed through their loopholes and casements, festivals were held in the long-deserted halls, maskers glided from room to room, the waltzers maddened to the strains of an infernal orchestra, armed sentinels paraded the battlements, while at intervals the clash of arms, the neighing of steeds, and the shrieks of unearthly combatants smote fitfully on the boatmen's ear. but the tower on which these scenes were most fearfully enacted was that on the longstone, commonly called the 'devil's tower,' as it well deserved to be--for here, in close communion with his master, resided the 'black monk,' whose office it was to exhibit false lights and landmarks along the gulf, so as to decoy the vessels into the whirlpool, or dash them against the rocks. he was considerably annoyed in his quarters, however, on the arrival of the great soliman in these regions; for to repel the turbaned host, or at least to check their triumphant progress to the upper danube, the inhabitants were summoned to join the national standard, and each to defend his own hearth. fortifications were suddenly thrown up, even churches and other religious edifices were placed in a state of military defence; women and children, the aged and the sick, as already mentioned in our notice of schaumburg, were lodged in fortresses, and thus secured from the violence of the approaching moslem. among the other points at which the greatest efforts were made to check the enemy, the passage of the strudel and wirbel was rendered as impregnable as the time and circumstances of the case would allow. to supply materials for the work, patriotism for a time got the better of superstition, and the said devil's tower was demolished and converted into a strong breastwork. thus forcibly dislodged, the black monk is said to have pronounced a malediction on the intruders, and to have chosen a new haunt among the recesses of the harz mountains.' when the glaciers send down their torrents and flood the rhone, it is the immemorial belief that the devil may be sometimes seen swimming in it, with a sword in one hand and a golden globe in the other. since it is contrary to all orthodox folklore that the devil should be so friendly with water, the name must be regarded as a modern substitute for the earlier rhone demon. we probably get closer to the original form of the superstition in the swiss oberland, which interprets the noises of the furka glacier, which feeds the rhone, as the groans of wicked souls condemned for ever to labour there in directing the river's course; their mistress being a demoness who sometimes appears just before the floods, floating on a raft, and ordering the river to rise. there is a tidal demonolatry also. the author of 'rambles in northumberland' gives a tradition concerning the river wansbeck: 'this river discharges itself into the sea at a place called cambois, about nine miles to the eastward, and the tide flows to within five miles of morpeth. tradition reports that michael scott, whose fame as a wizard is not confined to scotland, would have brought the tide to the town had not the courage of the person failed upon whom the execution of this project depended. this agent of michael, after his principal had performed certain spells, was to run from the neighbourhood of cambois to morpeth without looking behind, and the tide would follow him. after having advanced a certain distance he became alarmed at the roaring of the waters behind him, and forgetting the injunction, gave a glance over his shoulder to see if the danger was imminent, when the advancing tide immediately stopped, and the burgesses of morpeth thus lost the chance of having the wansbeck navigable between their town and the sea. it is also said that michael intended to confer a similar favour on the inhabitants of durham, by making the wear navigable to their city; but his good intentions, which were to be carried into effect in the same manner, were also frustrated by the cowardice of the person who had to guide the tide.' the gentle and just king Æolus, who taught his islanders navigation, in his mythologic transfiguration had to share the wayward dispositions of the winds he was said to rule; but though he wrecked the trojan fleet and many a ship, his old human heart remained to be trusted on the appearance of halcyon. his unhappy daughter of that name cast herself into the sea after the shipwreck of her husband (ceyx), and the two were changed into birds. it was believed that for seven days before and seven after the shortest day of the year, when the halcyon is breeding, Æolus restrains his winds, and the sea is calm. the accent of this fable has been transmitted to some variants of the folklore of swans. in russia the tsar morskoi or water demon's beautiful daughters (swans) may naturally be supposed to influence the tides which the fair bathers of our time are reduced to obey. in various regions the tides are believed to have some relation to swans, and to respect them. i have met with a notion of this kind in england. on the day of livingstone's funeral there was an extraordinary tide in the thames, which had been predicted and provided for. the crowds which had gathered at the abbey on that occasion repaired after the funeral to westminster bridge to observe the tide, and among them was a venerable disbeliever in science, who announced to a group that there would be no high tide, 'because the swans were nesting.' this sceptic was speedily put to confusion by the result, and perhaps one superstition the less remained in the circle that seemed to regard him as an oracle. the russian peasantry live in much fear of the rusalkas and vodyanuie, water-spirits who, of course, have for their chief the surly neptune tsar morskoi. in deprecation of this tribe, the peasant is careful not to bathe without a cross round the neck, nor to ford a stream on horseback without signing a cross on the water with a scythe or knife. in the ukrain these water-demons are supposed to be the transformed souls of pharaoh and his host when they were drowned, and they are increased by people who drown themselves. in bohemia fishermen are known sometimes to refuse aid to one drowning, for fear the vodyany will be offended and prevent the fish, over which he holds rule, from entering their nets. the wrath of such beings is indicated by the upheavals of water and foam; and they are supposed especially mischievous in the spring, when torrents and floods are pouring from melted snow. those undefined monsters which beowulf slew, grendel and his mother, are interpreted by simrock as personifications of the untamed sea and stormy floods invading the low flat shores, whose devastations so filled faust with horror (ii. iv.), and in combating which his own hitherto desolating powers found their task. the sea sweeps on in thousand quarters flowing, itself unfruitful, barrenness bestowing; it breaks, and swells, and rolls, and overwhelms the desert stretch of desolated realms.... let that high joy be mine for evermore, to shut the lordly ocean from the shore, the watery waste to limit and to bar, and push it back upon itself afar! in such brave work faust had many forerunners, whose art and courage have their monument in the fairer fables of all these elemental powers in which fear saw demons. pavana, in india, messenger of the gods, rides upon the winds, and in his forty-nine forms, corresponding with the points of the hindu compass, guards the earth. solomon, too, journeyed on a magic carpet woven of the winds, which still serves the purposes of the wise. from the churned ocean rose lakshmí (after the solar origin was lost to the myth), hindu goddess of prosperity; and from the sea-foam rose aphrodite, beauty. these fair forms had their true worshipper in the northman, who left on mastered wind and wave his song as emerson found it-- the gale that wrecked you on the sand, it helped my rowers to row; the storm is my best galley hand, and drives me where i go. chapter v. animals. animal demons distinguished--trivial sources of mythology--hedgehog--fox--transmigrations in japan--horses bewitched--rats--lions--cats--the dog--goethe's horror of dogs--superstitions of the parsees, people of travancore, and american negroes, red indians, &c.--cynocephaloi--the wolf--traditions of the nez perces--fenris--fables--the boar--the bear--serpent--every animal power to harm demonised--horns. the animal demons--those whose evil repute is the result of something in their nature which may be inimical to man--should be distinguished from the forms which have been diabolised by association with mythological personages or ideas. the lion, tiger, and wolf are examples of the one class; the stag, horse, owl, and raven of the other. but there are circumstances which render it very difficult to observe this distinction. the line has to be drawn, if at all, between the measureless forces of degradation on the one side, discovering some evil in animals which, but for their bad associations, would not have been much thought of; and of euphemism on the other, transforming harmful beasts to benignant agents by dwelling upon some minor characteristic. there are a few obviously dangerous animals, such as the serpent, where it is easy to pick our way; we can recognise the fear that flatters it to an agathodemon and the diminished fear that pronounces it accurst. [ ] but what shall be said of the goat? was there really anything in its smell or in its flesh when first eaten, its butting, or injury to plants, which originally classed it among the unclean animals? or was it merely demonised because of its uncanny and shaggy appearance? what explanation can be given of the evil repute of our household friend the cat? is it derived by inheritance from its fierce ancestors of the jungle? was it first suggested by its horrible human-like sleep-murdering caterwaulings at night? or has it simply suffered from a theological curse on the cats said to draw the chariots of the goddesses of beauty? the demonic dog is, if anything, a still more complex subject. the student of mythology and folklore speedily becomes familiar with the trivial sources from which vast streams of superstition often issue. the cock's challenge to the all-detecting sun no doubt originated his ominous career from the code of manu to the cock-headed devils frescoed in the cathedrals of russia. the fleshy, forked roots of a soporific plant issued in that vast mandrake mythology which has been the subject of many volumes, without being even yet fully explored. the italians have a saying that 'one knavery of the hedgehog is worth more than many of the fox;' yet the nocturnal and hibernating habits and general quaintness of the humble hedgehog, rather than his furtive propensity to prey on eggs and chickens, must have raised him to the honours of demonhood. in various popular fables this little animal proves more than a match for the wolf and the serpent. it was in the form of a hedgehog that the devil is said to have made the attempt to let in the sea through the brighton downs, which was prevented by a light being brought, though the seriousness of the scheme is still attested in the devil's dyke. there is an ancient tradition that when the devil had smuggled himself into noah's ark, he tried to sink it by boring a hole; but this scheme was defeated, and the human race saved, by the hedgehog stuffing himself into the hole. in the brighton story the devil would appear to have remembered his former failure in drowning people, and to have appropriated the form which defeated him. the fox, as incarnation of cunning, holds in the primitive belief of the japanese almost the same position as the serpent in the nations that have worshipped, until bold enough to curse it. in many of the early pictures of japanese demons one may generally detect amid their human, wolfish, or other characters some traits of the kitsune (fox). he is always the soul of the three-eyed demon of japan (fig. ). he is the sagacious 'vizier,' as the persian desatir calls him, and is practically the japanese scape-goat. if a fox has appeared in any neighbourhood, the next trouble is attributed to his visit; and on such occasions the sufferers and their friends repair to some ancient gnarled tree in which the fox is theoretically resident and propitiate him, just as would be done to a serpent in other regions. in japan the fox is not regarded as always harmful, but generally so. he is not to be killed on any account. being thus spared through superstition, the foxes increase sufficiently to supply abundant material for the continuance of its demonic character. 'take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines,' [ ] is an admonition reversed in japan. the correspondence between the cunning respected in this animal and that of the serpent, reverenced elsewhere, is confirmed by mr. fitz cunliffe owen, who observed, as he informs me, that the japanese will not kill even the poisonous snakes which crawl freely amid the decaying buddhist temples of nikko, one of the most sacred places in japan, where once as many as eight thousand monastic buddhists were harboured. it is the red fox that abounds in japan, and its human-like cry at night near human habitations is such as might easily encourage these superstitions. but, furthermore, mythology supplies many illustrations of a creditable tendency among rude tribes to mark out for special veneration or fear any force in nature finer than mere strength. emerson says, 'foxes are so cunning because they are not strong.' in our japanese demon, whose three eyes alone connect it with the præternatural vision ascribed by that race to the fox, the harelip is very pronounced. that little animal, the hare, is associated with a large mythology, perhaps because out of its weakness proceeds its main forces of survival--timidity, vigilance, and swiftness. the superstition concerning the hare is found in africa. the same animal is the much-venerated good genius of the calmucs, who call him sákya-muni (buddha), and say that on earth he submitted himself to be eaten by a starving man, for which gracious deed he was raised to dominion over the moon, where they profess to see him. the legend is probably traceable back to the sanskrit word sasin, moon, which means literally 'the hare-marked.' sasa means 'hare.' pausanias relates the story of the moon-goddess instructing exiles to build their city where they shall see a hare take refuge in a myrtle-grove. [ ] in the demonic fauna of japan another cunning animal figures--the weasel. the name of this demon is 'the sickle weasel,' and it also seems to occupy the position of a scape-goat. in the language of a japanese report, 'when a person's clogs slip from under his feet, and he falls and cuts his face on the gravel, or when a person, who is out at night when he ought to have been at home, presents himself to his family with a freshly-scarred face, the wound is referred to the agency of the malignant invisible weasel and his sharp sickle.' in an aboriginal legend of america, also, two sister demons commonly take the form of weasels. the popular feeling which underlay much of the animal-worship in ancient times was probably that which is reflected in the japanese notions of to-day, as told in the subjoined sketch from an amusing book. 'one of these visitors was an old man, who himself was at the time a victim of a popular superstition that the departed revisit the scenes of their life in this world in shapes of different animals. we noticed that he was not in his usual spirits, and pressed him to unburden his mind to us. he said he had lost his little son chiosin, but that was not so much the cause of his grief as the absurd way in which his wife, backed up by a whole conclave of old women who had taken up their abode in his house to comfort her, was going on. 'what do they all do?' we asked sympathetically. 'why,' he replied, 'every beastly animal that comes to my house, there is a cry amongst them all, 'chiosin, chiosin has come back!' and the whole house swarms with cats and dogs and bats--for they say they are not quite sure which is chiosin, and that they had better be kind to the lot than run the chance of treating him badly; the consequence is, all these brutes are fed on my rice and meat, and now i am driven out of doors and called an unnatural parent because i killed a mosquito which bit me!' [ ] the strange and inexplicable behaviour of animals in cases of fear, panic, or pain has been generally attributed by ignorant races to their possession by demons. of this nature is the story of the devil entering the herd of swine and carrying them into the sea, related in the new testament. it is said that even yet in some parts of scotland the milkmaid carries a switch of the magical rowan to expel the demon that sometimes enters the cow. professor monier williams writes from southern india--'when my fellow-travellers and myself were nearly dashed to pieces over a precipice the other day by some restive horses on a ghat near poona, we were told that the road at this particular point was haunted by devils who often caused similar accidents, and we were given to understand that we should have done well to conciliate ganesa, son of the god siva, and all his troops of evil spirits, before starting.' the same writer also tells us that the guardian spirits or 'mothers' who haunt most regions of the peninsula are believed to ride about on horses, and if they are angry, scatter blight and disease. hence the traveller just arrived from europe is startled and puzzled by apparitions of rudely-formed terra-cotta horses, often as large as life, placed by the peasantry round shrines in the middle of fields as acceptable propitiatory offerings, or in the fulfilment of vows in periods of sickness. [ ] this was the belief of the corinthians in the taraxippos, or shade of glaucus, who, having been torn in pieces by the horses with which he had been racing, and which he had fed on human flesh to make more spirited, remained to haunt the isthmus and frighten horses during the races. there is a modern legend in the far west (america) of a horse called 'the white devil,' which, in revenge for some harm to its comrades, slew men by biting and trampling them, and was itself slain after defying many attempts at its capture; but among the many ancient legends of demon-horses there are few which suggest anything about that animal hostile to man. his occasional evil character is simply derived from his association with man, and is therefore postponed. for a similar reason the goat also must be dealt with hereafter, and as a symbolical animal. a few myths are met with which relate to its unpleasant characteristics. in south guinea the odour of goats is accounted for by the saga that their ancestor having had the presumption to ask a goddess for her aromatic ointment, she angrily rubbed him with ointment of a reverse kind. it has also been said that it was regarded as a demon by the worshippers of bacchus, because it cropped the vines; and that it thus originated the trageluphoi, or goat-stag monsters mentioned by plato, [ ] and gave us also the word tragedy. [ ] but such traits of the goat can have very little to do with its important relations to mythology and demonology. to the list of animals demonised by association must also be added the stag. no doubt the anxious mothers, wives, or sweethearts of rash young huntsmen utilised the old fables of beautiful hinds which in the deep forests changed to demons and devoured their pursuers, [ ] for admonition; but the fact that such stags had to transform themselves for evil work is a sufficient certificate of character to prevent their being included among the animal demons proper, that is, such as have in whole or part supplied in their disposition to harm man the basis of a demonic representation. it will not be deemed wonderful that rats bear a venerable rank in demonology. the shudder which some nervous persons feel at sight of even a harmless mouse is a survival from the time when it was believed that in this form unshriven souls or unbaptized children haunted their former homes; and probably it would be difficult to estimate the number of ghost-stories which have originated in their nocturnal scamperings. many legends report the departure of unhallowed souls from human mouths in the shape of a mouse. during the earlier napoleonic wars mice were used in southern germany as diviners, by being set with inked feet on the map of europe to show where the fatal frenchmen would march. they gained this sanctity by a series of associations with force stretching back to the hindu fable of a mouse delivering the elephant and the lion by gnawing the cords that bound them. the battle of the frogs and mice is ascribed to homer. mice are said to have foretold the first civil war in rome by gnawing the gold in the temple. rats appear in various legends as avengers. the uncles of king popelus ii., murdered by him and his wife and thrown into a lake, reappear as rats and gnaw the king and queen to death. the same fate overtakes miskilaus of poland, through the transformed widows and orphans he had wronged. mouse tower, standing in the middle of the rhine, is the haunted monument of cruel archbishop hatto, of mainz, who (anno ) bade the famine-stricken people repair to his barn, wherein he shut them fast and burned them. but next morning an army of rats, having eaten all the corn in his granaries, darkened the roads to the palace. the prelate sought refuge from them in the tower, but they swam after, gnawed through the walls and devoured him. [ ] st. gertrude, wearing the funereal mantle of holda, commands an army of mice. in this respect she succeeds to the pied piper of hamelin, who also leads off children; and my ingenious friend mr. john fiske suggests that this may be the reason why irish servant-maids often show such frantic terror at sight of a mouse. [ ] the care of children is often intrusted to them, and the appearance of mice prognosticated of old the appearance of the præternatural rat-catcher and psychopomp. pliny says that in his time it was considered fortunate to meet a white rat. the people of bassorah always bow to these revered animals when seen, no doubt to propitiate them. the lion is a symbol of majesty and of the sun in his glory (reached in the zodiacal leo), though here and there his original demonic character appears,--as in the combats of indra, samson, and herakles with terrible lions. euphemism, in one sense, fulfils the conditions of samson's riddle--sweetness coming out of the strong--and has brought honey out of the lion. his cruel character has subtly fallen to sirius the dog-star, to whom are ascribed the drought and malaria of 'dog-days' (when the sun is in leo); but the primitive fact is intimated in several fables like that of aristæus, who, born after his mother had been rescued from the lybian lion, was worshipped in ceos as a saviour from both droughts and lions. the lion couching at the feet of beautiful doorga in india, reappears drawing the chariot of aphrodite, and typifies the potency of beauty rather than, as emerson interprets, that beauty depends on strength. the chariot of the norse venus, freyja, was drawn by cats, diminished forms of her southern sister's steeds. it was partly by these routes the cat came to play the sometimes beneficent rôle in russian, and to some extent in german, french, and english folklore,--e.g., puss in boots, whittington and his cat, and madame d'aulnoy's la chatte blanche. the demonic characteristics of the destructive cats have been inherited by the black,--or, as in macbeth, the brindled,--cat. in germany the approach of a cat to a sick-bed announces death; to dream of one is an evil omen. in hungary it is said every black cat becomes a witch at the age of seven. it is the witch's favourite riding-horse, but may sometimes be saved from such servitude by incision of the sign of the cross. a scratch from a black cat is thought to be the beginning of a fatal spell. de gubernatis [ ] has a very curious speculation concerning the origin of our familiar fable the kilkenny cats, which he traces to the german superstition which dreads the combat between cats as presaging death to one who witnesses it; and this belief he finds reflected in the tuscan child's 'game of souls,' in which the devil and angel are supposed to contend for the soul. the author thinks this may be one outcome of the contest between night and twilight in mythology; but, if the connection can be traced, it would probably prove to be derived from the struggle between the two angels of death, one variation of which is associated with the legend of the strife for the body of moses. the book of enoch says that gabriel was sent, before the flood, to excite the man-devouring giants to destroy one another. in an ancient persian picture in my possession, animal monsters are shown devouring each other, while their proffered victim, like daniel, is unharmed. the idea is a natural one, and hardly requires comparative tracing. dr. dennys tells us that in china there exists precisely the same superstition as in scotland as to the evil omen of a cat (or dog) passing over a corpse. brand and pennant both mention this, the latter stating that the cat or dog that has so done is killed without mercy. this fact would seem to show that the fear is for the living, lest the soul of the deceased should enter the animal and become one of the innumerable werewolf or vampyre class of demons. but the origin of the superstition is no doubt told in the slavonic belief that if a cat leap over a corpse the deceased person will become a vampyre. in russia the cat enjoys a somewhat better reputation than it does in most other countries. several peasants in the neighbourhood of moscow assured me that while they would never be willing to remain in a church where a dog had entered, they would esteem it a good sign if a cat came to church. one aged woman near moscow told me that when the devil once tried to creep into paradise he took the form of a mouse: the dog and cat were on guard at the gates, and the dog allowed the evil one to pass, but the cat pounced on him, and so defeated another treacherous attempt against human felicity. the cat superstition has always been strong in great britain. it is, indeed, in one sense true, as old howell wrote ( )--'we need not cross the sea for examples of this kind, we have too many (god wot) at home: king james a great while was loath to believe there were witches; but that which happened to my lord francis of rutland's children convinced him, who were bewitched by an old woman that was a servant of belvoir castle, but, being displeased, she contracted with the devil, who conversed with her in the form of a cat, whom she called rutterkin, to make away those children out of mere malignity and thirst of revenge.' it is to be feared that many a poor woman has been burned as a witch against whom her cherished cat was the chief witness. it would be a curious psychological study to trace how far the superstition owns a survival in even scientific minds,--as in buffon's vituperation of the cat, and in the astonishing story, told by mr. wood, of a cat which saw a ghost (anno )! the dog, so long the faithful friend of man, and even, possibly, because of the degree to which he has caught his master's manners, has a large demonic history. in the semitic stories there are many that indicate the path by which 'dog' became the mussulman synonym of infidel; and the one dog katmir who in arabic legend was admitted to paradise for his faithful watching three hundred and nine years before the cave of the seven sleepers, [ ] must have drifted among the moslems from india as the ephesian sleepers did from the christian world. in the beautiful episode of the 'mahábhárata,' yudhisthira having journeyed to the door of heaven, refuses to enter into that happy abode unless his faithful dog is admitted also. he is told by indra, 'my heaven hath no place for dogs; they steal away our offerings on earth;' and again, 'if a dog but behold a sacrifice, men esteem it unholy and void.' this difficulty was solved by the dog--yama in disguise--revealing himself and praising his friend's fidelity. it is tolerably clear that it is to his connection with yama, god of death, and under the evolution of that dualism which divided the universe into upper and nether, that the dog was degraded among our aryan ancestors; at the same time his sometimes wolfish disposition and some other natural characters supplied the basis of his demonic character. he was at once a dangerous and a corruptible guard. in the early vedic mythology it is the abode of the gods that is guarded by the two dogs, identified by solar mythologists as the morning and evening twilight: a later phase shows them in the service of yama, and they reappear in the guardian of the greek hades, cerberus, and orthros. the first of these has been traced to the vedic sarvara, the latter to the monster vritra. 'orthros' is the phonetical equivalent of vritra. the bitch sarama, mother of the two vedic dogs, proved a treacherous guard, and was slain by indra. hence the russian peasant comes fairly by another version of how the dog, while on guard, admitted the devil into heaven on being thrown a bone. but the two watch-dogs of the hindu myth do not seem to bear an evil character. in a funeral hymn of the 'rig-veda' (x. ), addressed to yama, king of death, we read:--'by an auspicious path do thou hasten past the two four-eyed brindled dogs, the offspring of sarama; then approach the beautiful pitris who rejoice together with yama. intrust him, o yama, to thy two watch-dogs, four-eyed, road-guarding, and man-observing. the two brown messengers of yama, broad of nostril and insatiable, wander about among men; may they give us again to-day the auspicious breath of life that we may see the sun!' and now thousands of years after this was said we find the dog still regarded as the seer of ghosts, and watcher at the gates of death, of whose opening his howl forewarns. the howling of a dog on the night of december , , at sandringham, where the prince of wales lay ill, was thought important enough for newspapers to report to a shuddering country. i read lately of a dog in a german village which was supposed to have announced so many deaths that he became an object of general terror, and was put to death. in that country belief in the demonic character of the dog seems to have been strong enough to transmit an influence even to the powerful brain of goethe. in goethe's poem, it was when faust was walking with the student wagner that the black dog appeared, rushing around them in spiral curves--spreading, as faust said, 'a magic coil as a snare around them;' [ ] that after this dog had followed faust into his study, it assumed a monstrous shape, until changed to a mist, from which mephistopheles steps forth--'the kernel of the brute'--in guise of a travelling scholar. this is in notable coincidence with the archaic symbolism of the dog as the most frequent form of the 'lares' (fig. ), or household genii, originally because of its vigilance. the form here presented is nearly identical with the cynocephalus, whom the learned author of 'mankind: their origin and destiny,' identifies as the adamic being set as a watch and instructor in eden (gen. xvi. ), an example of which, holding pen and tablet (as described by horapollo), is given in that work from philæ. chrysippus says that these were afterwards represented as young men clothed with dog-skins. remnants of the tutelary character of the dog are scattered through german folklore: he is regarded as oracle, ghost-seer, and gifted with second sight; in bohemia he is sometimes made to lick an infant's face that it may see well. the passage in 'faust' has been traced to goethe's antipathy to dogs, as expressed in his conversation with falk at the time of wieland's death. 'annihilation is utterly out of the question; but the possibility of being caught on the way by some more powerful and yet baser monas, and subordinated to it; this is unquestionably a very serious consideration; and i, for my part, have never been able entirely to divest myself of the fear of it, in the way of a mere observation of nature.' at this moment, says falk, a dog was heard repeatedly barking in the street. goethe, sprang hastily to the window and called to it: 'take what form you will, vile larva, you shall not subjugate me!' after some pause, he resumed with the remark: 'this rabble of creation is extremely offensive. it is a perfect pack of monades with which we are thrown together in this planetary nook; their company will do us little honour with the inhabitants of other planets, if they happen to hear anything about them.' in visiting the house where goethe once resided in weimar, i was startled to find as the chief ornament of the hall a large bronze dog, of full size, and very dark, looking proudly forth, as if he possessed the goethean monas after all. however, it is not probable that the poet's real dislike of dogs arose solely from that speculation about monades. it is more probable that in observing the old wall-picture in auerbach's cellar, wherein a dog stands beside mephistopheles, goethe was led to consider carefully the causes of that intimacy. unfortunately, and notwithstanding the fables and the sentiment which invest that animal, there are some very repulsive things about him, such as his tendency to madness and the infliction on man of a frightful death. the greek mania's 'fleet hounds' (bacchæ ) have spread terrors far and wide. those who carefully peruse the account given by mr. lewes of the quarrel between karl august and goethe, on account of the opposition of the latter to the introduction of a performing dog on the weimar stage--an incident which led to his resignation of his position of intendant of the theatre--may detect this aversion mingling with his disgust as an artist; and it may be also suspected that it was not the mere noise which caused the tortures he described himself as having once endured at göttingen from the barking of dogs. it is, however, not improbable that in the wild notion of goethe, joined with his cynophobia, we find a survival of the belief of the parsees of surat, who venerate the dog above all other animals, and who, when one is dying, place a dog's muzzle near his mouth, and make it bark twice, so that it may catch the departing soul, and bear it to the waiting angel. the devil-worshippers of travancore to this day declare that the evil power approaches them in the form of a dog, as mephistopheles approached faust. but before the superstition reached goethe's poem it had undergone many modifications; and especially its keen scent had influenced the norse imagination to ascribe to it præternatural wisdom. thus we read in the saga of hakon the good, that when eystein the bad had conquered drontheim, he offered the people choice of his slave thorer or his dog sauer to be their king. they chose the dog. 'now the dog was by witchcraft gifted with three men's wisdom; and when he barked he spoke one word and barked two.' this dog wore a collar of gold, and sat on a throne, but, for all his wisdom and power, seems to have been a dog still; for when some wolves invaded the cattle, he attacked and was torn to pieces by them. among the negroes of the southern states in america i have found the belief that the most frequent form of a diabolical apparition is that of a large dog with fiery eyes, which may be among them an original superstition attributable to their horror of the bloodhound, by which, in some regions, they were pursued when attempting to escape. among the whites of the same region i have never been able to find any instance of the same belief, though belief in the presage of the howling dog is frequent; and it is possible that this is a survival from some region in africa, where the dog has an evil name of the same kind as the scape-goat. among some tribes in fazogl there is an annual carnival at which every one does as he likes. the king is then seated in the open air, a dog tied to the leg of his chair, and the animal is then stoned to death. mark twain [ ] records the folklore of a village of missouri, where we find lads quaking with fear at the howling of a 'stray dog' in the night, but indifferent to the howling of a dog they recognise, which may be a form of the common english belief that it is unlucky to be followed by a 'strange' dog. from the same book it appears also that the dog will always have his head in the direction of the person whose doom is signified: the lads are entirely relieved when they find the howling animal has his back turned to them. it is remarkable that these fragments of european superstition should meet in the far west a plentiful crop of their like which has sprung up among the aborigines, as the following extract from mr. brinton's work, 'myths of the new world,' will show: 'dogs were supposed to stand in some peculiar relation to the moon, probably because they howl at it and run at night, uncanny practices which have cost them dear in reputation. the custom prevailed among tribes so widely asunder as peruvians, tupis, creeks, iroquois, algonquins, and greenland eskimos to thrash the curs most soundly during an eclipse. the creeks explained this by saying that the big dog was swallowing the sun, and that by whipping the little ones they could make him desist. what the big dog was they were not prepared to say. we know. it was the night goddess, represented by the dog, who was thus shrouding the world at mid-day. in a better sense, they represented the more agreeable characteristics of the lunar goddess. xochiquetzal, most fecund of aztec divinities, patroness of love, of sexual pleasure, and of child-birth, was likewise called itzcuinan, which, literally translated, is 'bitch-mother.' this strange and to us so repugnant title for a goddess was not without parallel elsewhere. when in his wars the inca pachacutec carried his arms into the province of huanca, he found its inhabitants had installed in their temples the figure of a dog as their highest deity.... this canine canonisation explains why in some parts of peru a priest was called, by way of honour, allco, dog!... many tribes on the pacific coast united in the adoration of a wild species, the coyote, the canis latrans of naturalists.' of the dog-demon chantico the legend of the nahuas was, 'that he made a sacrifice to the gods without observing a preparatory fast, for which he was punished by being changed into a dog. he then invoked the god of death to deliver him, which attempt to evade a just punishment so enraged the divinities that they immersed the world in water.' the common phrase 'hell-hounds' has come to us by various routes. diana being degraded to hecate, the dogs of hades, orthros and cerberus, multiplied into a pack of hounds for her chase, were degraded with her into infernal howlers and hunters. a like degradation of odin's hunt took place at a later date. the wild huntsman, being a diabolical character, is considered elsewhere. concerning the dog, it may be further said here, that there are probably various characteristics of that animal reflected in his demonic character. his liability to become rabid, and to afflict human beings with hydrophobia, appears to have had some part in it. spinoza alludes to the custom in his time of destroying persons suffering from this canine rabies by suffocation; and his english biographer and editor, dr. willis, tells me that in his boyhood in scotland he always heard this spoken of as the old custom. that such treatment could have prevailed can hardly be ascribed to anything but a belief in the demonic character of the rabid dog, cognate with the unconscious superstition which still causes rural magistrates to order a dog which has bitten any one to be slain. the notion is, that if the dog goes mad thereafter, the man will also. of course it would be rational to preserve the dog's life carefully, in order that, if it continues healthy, the bitten may feel reassured, as he cannot be if it be dead. but the degradation of the dog had a cause even in his fidelity as a watch. for this, as we have just seen, made him a common form among lares or domestic demons. the teraphim also were often in this shape. christianity had therefore a special reason for ascribing an infernal character to these little idols, which interfered with the popular dependence on the saints. it will thus be seen that there were many causes operating to create that formidable class of demons which were called in the middle ages cynocephaloi. the ancient holy pictures of russia especially abound in these dog-headed devils; in the sixteenth century they were frequently represented rending souls in hell; and sometimes the dragon of the apocalypse is represented with seven horrible canine heads. m. toussenel, in his transcendental interpretations, has identified the wolf as the bandit and outlaw. [ ] the proverbial mediæval phrase for an outlaw--one who wears a teste loeve, caput lupinum, wulfesheofod, which the ingenious author perhaps remembered--is of good antiquity. the wolf is called robber in the 'rig-veda,' and he is there also demonised, since we find him fleeing before a devotee. (in the zend 'vendidad' the souls of the pious fear to meet the wolf on the way to heaven.) the god pushan is invoked against the evil wolf, the malignant spirit. [ ] cardano says that to dream of a wolf announces a robber. there is in the wolf, at the same time, that always attractive love of liberty which, in the well-known fable, makes him prefer leanness to the comfort of the collar-wearing dog, which makes him among demonic animals sometimes the same as the mighty huntsmen nimrod and shaggy esau among humanised demons. one is not surprised to find occasionally good stories about the wolf. thus the nez perces tribe in america trace the origin of the human race to a wolf. they say that originally, when there were nothing but animals, there was a huge monster which devoured them whole and alive. this monster swallowed a wolf, who, when he entered its belly, found the animals therein snarling at and biting one another as they had done on the earth outside. the wolf exhorted them that their common sufferings should teach them friendliness, and finally he induced them to a system of co-operation by which they made their way out through the side of the monster, which instantly perished. the animals so released were at once transformed to men, how and why the advocates of co-operation will readily understand, and founded the nez perces indians. the myths of asia and europe are unhappily antipodal to this in spirit and form, telling of human beings transformed to wolves. in the norse mythology, however, there stands a demon wolf whose story bears a touch of feeling, though perhaps it was originally the mere expression for physical law. this is the wolf fenris, which, from being at first the pet of the gods and lapdog of the goddesses, became so huge and formidable that asgard itself was endangered. all the skill and power of the gods could not forge chains which might chain him; he snapped them like straws and toppled over the mountains to which he was fastened. but the little elves working underground made that chain so fine that none could see or feel it,--fashioned it out of the beards of women, the breath of fish, noise of the cat's footfall, spittle of birds, sinews of bears, roots of stones,--by which are meant things non-existent. this held him. fenris is chained till the final destruction, when he shall break loose and devour odin. the fine chain that binds ferocity,--is it the love that can tame all creatures? is it the sunbeam that defines to the strongest creature its habitat? the two monsters formed when ráhu was cloven in twain, in hindu mythology, reappear in eddaic fable as the wolves sköll and hati, who pursue the sun and moon. as it is said in the völuspá:-- eastward in the iron-wood the old one sitteth, and there bringeth forth fenrir's fell kindred. of these one, the mightiest, the moon's devourer, in form most fiend-like, and filled with the life-blood of the dead and the dying, reddens with ruddy gore the seats of the high gods. euphemism attending propitiation of such monsters may partly explain the many good things told of wolves in popular legend. the stories of the she-wolf nourishing children, as romulus and remus, are found in many lands. they must, indeed, have had some prestige, to have been so largely adopted in saintly tradition. like the bears that elisha called to devour the children, the wolves do not lose their natural ferocity by becoming pious. they devour heretics and sacrilegious people. one guarded the head of st. edmund the martyr of england; another escorted st. oddo, abbot of cluny, as his ancestors did the priests of cluny. the skin of the wolf appears in folklore as a charm against hydrophobia; its teeth are best for cutting children's gums, and its bite, if survived, is an assurance against any future wound or pain. the tragedy which is so foolishly sprung upon the nerves of children, little red riding-hood, shows the wolf as a crafty animal. there are many legends of a like character which have made it a favourite figure in which to represent pious impostors. in our figure , the wolf appears as the 'dangerous confessor;' it was intended, as mr. wright thought, for mary of modena, queen of james ii., and father petre. at the top of the original are the words 'converte angliam' and beneath, 'it is a foolish sheep that makes the wolf her confessor.' the craft of the wolf is represented in a partly political partly social turn given by an american fabulist to one of Æsop's fables. the wolf having accused the lamb he means to devour of fouling the stream, and receiving answer that the lamb was drinking farther down the current, alters the charge and says, 'you opposed my candidature at the caucus two years ago.' 'i was not then born,' replies the lamb. the wolf then says, 'any one hearing my accusations would testify that i am insane and not responsible for my actions,' and thereupon devours the lamb with full faith in a jury of his countrymen. m. toussenel says the wolf is a terrible strategist, albeit the less observant have found little in his character to warrant this attribute of craft, his physiognomy and habits showing him a rather transparent highwayman. it is probable that the fables of this character have derived that trait from his association with demons and devils supposed to take on his shape. in a beautiful hymn to the earth in the 'atharva veda' it is said, 'the earth, which endureth the burden of the oppressor, beareth up the abode of the lofty and of the lowly, suffereth the hog, and giveth entrance to the wild boar.' boar-hounds in brittany and some other regions are still kept at government expense. there are many indications of this kind that in early times men had to defend themselves vigorously against the ravages of the wild boar, and, as de gubernatis remarks, [ ] its character is generally demoniacal. the contests of hercules with the erymanthian, and of meleager with the calydonian, boar, are enough to show that it was through its dangerous character that he became sacred to the gods of war, mars and odin. but it is also to be remembered that the third incarnation of vishnu was as a wild boar; and as the fearless exterminator of snakes the pig merited this association with the preserver. provided with a thick coat of fat, no venom can harm him unless it be on the lip. it may be this ability to defy the snake-ordeal which, after its uncleanliness had excepted the hog from human voracity in some regions, assigned it a diabolical character. in rabbinical fable the hog and rat were created by noah to clear the ark of filth; but the rats becoming a nuisance, he evoked a cat from the lion's nose. it is clear that our asiatic and norse ancestors never had such a ferocious beast to encounter as the grisly bear (ursus horribilis) of america, else the appearances of this animal in demonology could never have been so respectable. the comparatively timid asiatic bear (u. labiatus), the small and almost harmless thibetan species (u. thibetanus), would appear to have preponderated over the fiercer but rarer bears of the north in giving us the indo-germanic fables, in which this animal is, on the whole, a favourite. emerson finds in the fondness of the english for their national legend of 'beauty and the beast' a sign of the englishman's own nature. 'he is a bear with a soft place in his heart; he says no, and helps you.' the old legend found place in the heart of a particularly representative american also--theodore parker, who loved to call his dearest friend 'bear,' and who, on arriving in europe, went to berne to see his favourites, from which its name is derived. the fondness of the bear for honey--whence its russian name, medv-jed, 'honey-eater'--had probably something to do with its dainty taste for roses and its admiration for female beauty, as told in many myths. in his comparative treatment of the mythology of the bear, de gubernatis [ ] mentions the transformation of king trisankus into a bear, and connects this with the constellation of the great bear; but it may with equal probability be related to the many fables of princes who remain under the form of a bear until the spell is broken by the kiss of some maiden. it is worthy of note that in the russian legends the bear is by no means so amiable as in those of our western folklore. in one, the bear-prince lurking in his fountain holds by the beard the king who, while hunting, tries to quench his thirst, and releases him only after a promise to deliver up whatever he has at home without his knowledge; the twins, ivan and maria, born during his absence, are thus doomed--are concealed, but discovered by the bear, who carries them away. they are saved by help of the bull. when escaping the bear ivan throws down a comb, which becomes a tangled forest, which, however, the bear penetrates; but the spread-out towel which becomes a lake of fire sends the bear back. [ ] it is thus the ferocious arctic bear which gives the story its sombre character. such also is the russian tale of the bear with iron hairs, which devastates the kingdom, devouring the inhabitants until ivan and helena alone remain; after the two in various ways try to escape, their success is secured by the bull, which, more kindly than elisha, blinds the bear with his horns. [ ] (the bear retires in winter.) in norwegian story the bear becomes milder,--a beautiful youth by night, whose wife loses him because she wishes to see him by lamplight: her place is taken by a long-nosed princess, until, by aid of the golden apple and the rose, she recovers her husband. in the pentameron, [ ] pretiosa, to escape the persecutions of her father, goes into the forest disguised as a she-bear; she nurses and cures the prince, who is enamoured of her, and at his kiss becomes a beautiful maid. the bear thus has a twofold development in folklore. he used to be killed ( th century) at the end of the carnival in rome, as the devil. [ ] the siberians, if they have killed a bear, hang his skin on a tree and apologise humbly to it, declaring that they did not forge the metal that pierced it, and they meant the arrow for a bird; from which it is plain that they rely more on its stupidity than its good heart. in canada, when the hunters kill a bear, one of them approaches it and places between his teeth the stem of his pipe, breathes in the bowl, and thus, filling with smoke the animal's mouth, conjures its soul not to be offended at his death. as the bear's ghost makes no reply, the huntsman, in order to know if his prayer is granted, cuts the thread under the bear's tongue, and keeps it until the end of the hunt, when a large fire is kindled, and all the band solemnly throw in it what threads of this kind they have; if these sparkle and vanish, as is natural, it is a sign that the bears are appeased. [ ] in greenland the great demon, at once feared and invoked, especially by fishermen, is torngarsuk, a huge bear with a human arm. he is invisible to all except his priests, the anguekkoks, who are the only physicians of that people. the extreme point of demonic power has always been held by the serpent. so much, however, will have to be said of the destructiveness and other characteristics of this animal when we come to consider at length its unique position in mythology, that i content myself here with a pictorial representation of the singhalese demon of serpents. if any one find himself shuddering at sight of a snake, even in a country where they are few and comparatively harmless, perhaps this figure ( ) may suggest the final cause of the shudder. in conclusion, it may be said that not only every animal ferocity, but every force which can be exerted injuriously, has had its demonic representations. every claw, fang, sting, hoof, horn, has been as certain to be catalogued and labelled in demonology as in physical science. it is remarkable also how superstition rationalises. thus the horn in the animal world, though sometimes dangerous to man, was more dangerous to animals, which, as foes of the horned animals, were foes to man's interests. the early herdsman knew the value of the horn as a defence against dog and wolf, besides its other utilities. consequently, although it was necessary that the horn-principle, so to say, in nature must be regarded as one of its retractile and cruel features, man never demonised the animals whose butt was most dangerous, but for such purpose transferred the horns to the head of some nondescript creature. the horn has thus become a natural weapon of man-demons. the same evolution has taken place in america; for, although among its aboriginal legends we may meet with an occasional demon-buffalo, such are rare and of apocryphal antiquity. the accompanying american figure ( ) is from a photograph sent me by the president of vanderbilt university, tennessee, who found it in an old mound (red indian) in the state of georgia. it is probably as ancient as any example of a human head with horns in the world; and as it could not have been influenced by european notions, it supplies striking evidence that the demonisation of the forces and dangers of nature belongs to the structural action of the human mind. chapter vi. enemies. aryas, dasyus, nagas--yakkhos--lycians--ethiopians--hirpini-- polites--sosipolis--were-wolves--goths and scythians--giants and dwarfs--berserkers--britons--iceland--mimacs--gog and magog. we paint the devil black, says george herbert. on the other hand the negro paints him white, with reason enough. the name of the devil at mozambique is muzungu maya, or wicked white man. of this demon they make little images of extreme hideousness, which are kept by people on the coast, and occasionally displayed, in the belief that if the white devil is lurking near them he will vanish out of sheer disgust with a glimpse of his own ugliness. the hereditary horror of the kidnapper displayed in this droll superstition may possibly have been assisted by the familiarity with all things infernal represented in the language of the white sailors visiting the coast. captain basil hall, on visiting mozambique about fifty years ago, found that the native dignitaries had appropriated the titles of english noblemen, and a dumpy little duke of devonshire met him with his whole vocabulary of english,--'how do you do, sir. very glad see you. damn your eyes. johanna man like english very much. god damn. that very good? eh? devilish hot, sir. what news? hope your ship stay too long while very. damn my eye. very fine day.' in most parts of india siva also is painted white, which would indicate that there too was found reason to associate diabolism with the white face. it is said the thugs spared englishmen because their white faces suggested relationship to siva. in some of the ancient indian books the monster whom indra slew, vritra, is called dasyu (enemy), a name which in the vedas designates the aborigines as contrasted with the aryans of the north. 'in the old sanskrit, in the hymns of the veda, ârya occurs frequently as a national name and as a name of honour, comprising the worshippers of the gods of the brahmans, as opposed to their enemies, who are called in the veda dasyus. thus one of the gods, indra, who in some respects answers to the greek zeus, is invoked in the following words (rigveda, i. , ):--'know thou the aryas, o indra, and those who are dasyus; punish the lawless, and deliver them unto thy servant! be thou the mighty helper of the worshippers, and i will praise all these thy deeds at the festivals.' [ ] naglok (snakeland) was at an early period a hindu name for hell. but the nagas were not real snakes,--in that case they might have fared better,--but an aboriginal tribe in ceylon, believed by the hindus to be of serpent origin,--'naga' being an epithet for 'native.' [ ] the singhalese, on the other hand, have adapted the popular name for demons in india, 'rakshasa,' in their rakseyo, a tribe of invisible cannibals without supernatural powers (except invisibility), who no doubt merely embody the traditions of some early race. the dreaded powers were from another tribe designated yakkhos (demons), and believed to have the power of rendering themselves invisible. buddha's victories over these demonic beings are related in the 'mahawanso.' 'it was known (by inspiration) by the vanquishers that in lanka, filled by yakkhos, ... would be the place where his religion would be glorified. in like manner, knowing that in the centre of lanka, on the delightful bank of a river, ... in the agreeable mahanaga garden, ... there was a great assembly of the principal yakkhos, ... the deity of happy advent, approaching that great congregation, ... immediately over their heads hovering in the air, ... struck terror into them by rains, tempests, and darkness. the yakkhos, overwhelmed with awe, supplicated of the vanquisher to be released from their terror.... the consoling vanquisher thus replied: 'i will release ye yakkhos from this your terror and affliction: give ye unto me here by unanimous consent a place for me to alight on.' all these yakkhos replied: 'lord, we confer on thee the whole of lanka, grant thou comfort to us.' the vanquisher thereupon dispelling their terror and cold shivering, and spreading his carpet of skin on the spot bestowed on him, he there seated himself. he then caused the aforesaid carpet, refulgent with a fringe of flames, to extend itself on all sides: they, scorched by the flames, (receding) stood around on the shores (of the island) terrified. the saviour then caused the delightful isle of giri to approach for them. as soon as they transferred themselves thereto (to escape the conflagration), he restored it to its former position.' [ ] this legend, which reminds one irresistibly of the expulsion of reptiles by saints from ireland, and other western regions, is the more interesting if it be considered that these yakkhos are the sanskrit yakshas, attendants on kuvera, the god of wealth, employed in the care of his garden and treasures. they are regarded as generally inoffensive. the transfer by english authorities of the tasmanians from their native island to another, with the result of their extermination, may suggest the possible origin of the story of giri. buddha's dealings with the serpent-men or nagas is related as follows in the same volume:-- 'the vanquisher (i.e., of the five deadly sins), ... in the fifth year of his buddhahood, while residing at the garden of (the prince) jeto, observing that, on account of a disputed claim for a gem-set throne between the naga mahodaro and a similar chalodaro, a maternal uncle and nephew, a conflict was at hand, ... taking with him his sacred dish and robes, out of compassion to the nagas, visited nagadipo.... these mountain nagas were, moreover, gifted with supernatural powers.... the saviour and dispeller of the darkness of sin, poising himself in the air over the centre of the assembly, caused a terrifying darkness to these nagas. attending to the prayer of the dismayed nagas, he again called forth the light of day. they, overjoyed at having seen the deity of felicitous advent, bowed down at the feet of the divine teacher. to them the vanquisher preached a sermon of reconciliation. both parties rejoicing thereat, made an offering of the gem-throne to the divine sage. the divine teacher, alighting on the earth, seated himself on the throne, and was served by the naga kings with celestial food and beverage. the lord of the universe procured for eighty kotis of nagas, dwelling on land and in the waters, the salvation of the faith and the state of piety.' at every step in the conversion of the native singhalese,--the demons and serpent-men,--buddha and his apostles are represented as being attended by the devas,--the deities of india,--who are spoken of as if glad to become menials of the new religion. but we find zoroaster using this term in a demonic sense, and describing alien worshippers as children of the devas (a semite would say, sons of belial). and in the conventional persian pictures of the last judgment (moslem), the archfiend has the hindu complexion. a similar phenomenon may be observed in various regions. in the mediæval frescoes of moscow, representing infernal tortures, it is not very difficult to pick out devils representing the physical characteristics of most of the races with which the muscovite has struggled in early times. there are also black ethiopians among them, which may be a result of devils being considered the brood of tchernibog, god of darkness; but may also, not impossibly, have come of such apocryphal narratives as that ascribed to st. augustine. 'i was already bishop of hippo when i went into ethiopia with some servants of christ, there to preach the gospel. in this country we saw many men and women without heads, who had two great eyes in their breasts; and in countries still more southerly we saw a people who had but one eye in their foreheads.' [ ] in considering animal demons, the primitive demonisation of the wolf has been discussed. but it is mainly as a transformation of man and a type of savage foes that this animal has been a prominent figure in mythology. professor max müller has made it tolerably clear that bellerophon means slayer of the hairy; and that belleros is the transliteration of sanskrit varvara, a term applied to the dark aborigines by their aryan invaders, equivalent to barbarians. [ ] this points us for the origin of the title rather to bellerophon's conquest of the lycians, or wolf-men, than to his victory over the chimæra. the story of lycaon and his sons--barbarians defying the gods and devouring human flesh--turned into wolves by zeus, connects itself with the lycians (hairy, wolfish barbarians), whom bellerophon conquered. it was not always, however, the deity that conquered in such encounters. in the myth of soracte, the wolf is seen able to hold his own against the gods. soranus, worshipped on mount soracte, was at rome the god of light, and is identified with apollo by virgil. [ ] a legend states that he became associated with the infernal gods, though called diespiter, because of the sulphurous exhalations from the side of mount soracte. it is said that once when some shepherds were performing a sacrifice, some wolves seized the flesh; the shepherds, following them, were killed by the poisonous vapours of the mountain to which the wolves retreated. an oracle gave out that this was a punishment for their pursuing the sacred animals; and a general pestilence also having followed, it was declared that it could only cease if the people were all changed to wolves and lived by prey. hence the hirpini, from the sabine 'hirpus,' a wolf. the story is a variant of that of the hirpinian samnites, who were said to have received their name from their ancestors having followed a sacred wolf when seeking their new home. the wolf ceremonies were, like the roman lupercalia, for purposes of purification. the worshippers ran naked through blazing fires. the annual festival, which strabo describes as occurring in the grove of feronia, goddess of nature, became at last a sort of fair. its history, however, is very significant of the formidable character of the hirpini, or wolf-tribe, which could alone have given rise to such euphemistic celebrations of the wolf. it is interesting to note that in some regions this wolf of superstition was domesticated into a dog. pierius says there was a temple of vulcan in mount Ætna, in whose grove were dogs that fawned on the pious, but rent the polluted worshippers. it will be seen by the left form of fig. that the wolf had a diminution, in pictorial representation similar to that which the canine lares underwent (p. ). this picture is referred by john beaumont [ ] to cartarius' work on 'the images of the gods of the ancients;' the form wearing a wolf's skin and head is that of the demon polites, who infested temesa in italy, according to a story related by pausanias. ulysses, in his wanderings, having come to this town, one of his companions was stoned to death for having ravished a virgin; after which his ghost appeared in form of this demon, which had to be appeased, by the direction of the oracle of apollo, by the annual sacrifice to him of the most beautiful virgin in the place. euthymus, enamoured of a virgin about to be so offered, gave battle to this demon, and, having expelled him from the country, married the virgin. however, since the infernal powers cannot be deprived of their rights without substitution, this saviour of temesa disappeared in the river cæcinus. the form on the right in fig. represents the genius of the city of rome, and is found on some of hadrian's coins; he holds the cornucopia and the sacrificial dish. the child and the serpent in the same picture represent the origin of the demonic character attributed to the eleans by the arcadians. this child-and-serpent symbol, which bears resemblance to certain variants of bel and the dragon, no doubt was brought to elea, or velia in italy, by the phocæans, when they abandoned their ionian homes rather than submit to cyrus, and founded that town, b.c. . the two forms were jointly worshipped with annual sacrifices in the temple of lucina, under the name sosipolis. the legend of this title is related by pausanias. when the arcadians invaded the eleans, a woman came to the elean commander with an infant at her breast, and said that she had been admonished in a dream to place her child in front of the army. this was done; as the arcadians approached the child was changed to a serpent, and, astounded at the prodigy, they fled without giving battle. the child was represented by the eleans decorated with stars, and holding the cornucopia; by the arcadians, no doubt, in a less celestial way. it is not uncommon in mythology to find the most dangerous demons represented under some guise of weakness, as, for instance, among the south africans, some of whom recently informed english officers that the galeikas were led against them by a terrible sorcerer in the form of a hare. the most fearful traditional demon ever slain by hero in japan was shuden dozi--the child-faced drinker. in ceylon the apparition of a demon is said to be frequently under the form of a woman with a child in her arms. many animal demons are mere fables for the ferocity of human tribes. the were-wolf superstition, which exists still in russia, where the transformed monster is called volkodlák (volk, a wolf, and dlak, hair), might even have originated in the costume of norse barbarians and huntsmen. the belief was always more or less rationalised, resembling that held by verstegan three hundred years ago, and which may be regarded as prevalent among both the english and flemish people of his day. 'these were-wolves,' he says, 'are certain sorcerers, who, having anointed their bodies with an ointment they make by the instinct of the devil, and putting on a certain enchanted girdle, do not only unto the view of others seem as wolves, but to their own thinking have both the nature and shape of wolves so long as they wear the said girdle; and they do dispose themselves as very wolves, in worrying and killing, and waste of human creatures.' during the franco-german war of - , a family of ladies on the german side of the rhine, sitting up all night in apprehension, related to me such stories of the 'turcos' that i have since found no difficulty in understanding the belief in weird and præternatural wolves which once filled europe with horror. the facility with which the old lycian wolf-girdle, so to say, was caught up and worn in so many countries where race-wars were chronic for many ages, renders it nearly certain that this superstition (lycanthropy), however it may have originated, was continued through the custom of ascribing demonic characteristics to hostile and fierce races. it has been, indeed, a general opinion that the theoretical belief originated in the pythagorean doctrine of metempsychosis. thus shakspere:-- thou almost makest me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter, even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, and whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam infused itself in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. but the superstition is much older than pythagoras, who, no doubt, tried to turn it into a moral theory of retributions,--as indeed did plato in his story of the vision of er the armenian. professor weber and others have adduced evidence indicating that although belief in the transformation of men into beasts was not developed in the vedic age of india, the matrix of it was there. but of our main fact--the association of demonic characters with certain tribes--india has presented many examples. in the mountains of travancore there are tribes which are still generally believed to be on terms of especial familiarity with the devils of that region; and the dwellers on the plains relate that on these mountains gigantic demons, sixteen or seventeen feet high, may sometimes be seen hurling firebrands at each other. professor monier williams contributes an interesting note concerning this general phase of south-indian demonology. 'furthermore, it must not be forgotten that although a belief in devils and homage to bhutas, or spirits, of all kinds is common all over india, yet what is called devil-worship is far more systematically practised in the south of india and ceylon than in the north. and the reason may be that as the invading aryans advanced towards southern india, they found portions of it peopled by wild aboriginal savages, whose behaviour and aspect appeared to them to resemble that of devils. the aryan mind, therefore, naturally pictured to itself the regions of the south as the chief resort and stronghold of the demon race, and the dread of demonical agency became more deeply rooted in southern india than in the north. curiously enough, too, it is commonly believed in southern india that every wicked man contributes by his death to swell the ever-increasing ranks of devil legions. his evil passions do not die with him; they are intensified, concentrated, and perpetuated in the form of a malignant and mischievous spirit.' [ ] it is obvious that this principle may be extended from individuals to entire tribes. the cimmerians were regarded as dwelling in a land allied with hell. in the legend of the alhambra, as told by washington irving, the astrologer warns the moorish king that the beautiful damsel is no doubt one of those gothic sorceresses of whom they have heard so much. although, as we have seen, england was regarded on the continent as an island of demons because of its northern latitude, probably some of its tribes were of a character dangerous enough to prolong the superstition. the nightmare elves were believed to come from england, and to hurry away through the keyholes at daybreak, saying 'the bells are calling in england.' [ ] visigoth probably left us our word bigot; and 'goths and vandals' sometimes designate english roughs, as 'turks' those of constantinople. herodotus says the scythians of the black sea regarded the neurians as wizards, who transformed themselves into wolves for a few days annually; but the scythians themselves are said by herodotus to have sprung from a monster, half-woman half-serpent; and possibly the association of the scotch with the scythians by the germans, who called them both scutten, had something to do with the uncanny character ascribed to the british isles. sir walter raleigh described the red men of america as gigantic monsters. 'red devils' is still the pioneer's epithet for them in the far west. the hairy dukes of esau were connected with the goat, and demonised as edom; and ishmael was not believed much better by the more peaceful semitic tribes. such notions are akin to those which many now have of the thugs and bashi-bazouks, and are too uniform and natural to tax much the ingenuity of comparative mythology. underlying many of the legends of giants and dwarfs may be found a similar demonologic formation. a principle of natural selection would explain the existence of tribes, which, though of small stature, are able to hold their own against the larger and more powerful by their superior cunning. that such equalisation of apparently unequal forces has been known in pre-historic ages may be gathered from many fables. before bali, the monarch already mentioned, whose power alarmed the gods themselves, vishnu appeared as a dwarf, asking only so much land as he could measure with three steps; the apparently ridiculous request granted, the god strode over the whole earth with two steps and brought his third on the head of bali. in scandinavian fable we have the young giantess coming to her mother with the plough and ploughman in her apron, which she had picked up in the field. to her child's inquiry, 'what sort of beetle is this i found wriggling in the sand?' the giantess replies, 'go put it back in the place where thou hast found it. we must be gone out of this land, for these little people will dwell in it.' the sagas contain many stories which, while written in glorification of the 'giant' race, relate the destruction of their chiefs by the magical powers of the dwarfs. i must limit myself to a few notes on the ynglinga saga. 'in swithiod,' we are told, 'are many great domains, and many wonderful races of men, and many kinds of languages. there are giants, and there are dwarfs, and there are also blue men. there are wild beasts, and dreadfully large dragons.' we learn that in asaland was a great chief, odin, who went out to conquer vanaland. the vanalanders are declared to have magic arts,--such as are ascribed to finns and lapps to this day by the more ignorant of their neighbours. but that the people of asaland learned their magic charms. 'odin was the cleverest of them all, and from him all the others learned their magic arts.' 'odin could make his enemies in battle blind, or deaf, or terror-struck, and their weapons so blunt that they could no more cut than a willow twig; on the other hand, his men rushed forward without armour, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were as strong as bears or wild bulls, and killed people at a blow, and neither fire nor iron told upon them. these were called berserkers.' (from ber, bear, and serkr, sark or coat; the word being probably, as maurer says, a survival of an earlier belief in the transformation of men into bears.) but the successors of odin did not preserve his occult power. svegdir, for instance, saw a large stone and a dwarf at the door entering in it. the dwarf called him to come in and he should see odin. 'swedger ran into the stone, which instantly closed behind him, and swedger never came back.' the witchcraft of the finn people is said to have led vanlandi (svegdir's son) to his death by mara (night-mare). vanlandi's son too, visbur, fell a victim to sorcery. such legends as these, and many others which may be found in sturleson's heimskringla, have influenced our popular stories whose interest turns on the skill with which some little jack or thumbling overcomes his adversary by superior cunning. superstitions concerning dwarf-powers are especially rife in northumberland, where they used to be called duergar, and they were thought to abound on the hills between rothbury and elsdon. they mislead with torches. one story relates that a traveller, beguiled at night into a hut where a dwarf prepared a comfortable fire for him, found himself when daylight returned sitting upon the edge of a deep rugged precipice, where the slightest movement had caused him to be dashed to pieces. [ ] the northumbrian stories generally, however, do not bear the emphasis of having grown out of aboriginal conditions, or even of having been borrowed for such. the legends of scotland, and of the south-west of england, appear to me much more suggestive of original struggles between large races and small. they are recalled by the superstitions which still linger in norway concerning the lapps, who are said to carry on unholy dealings with gnomes. in the last century the 'brownie' was commonly spoken of in scotland as appearing in shape of 'a tall man,' and the name seems to refer to the brown complexion of that bogey, and its long brown hair, hardly scottish. [ ] it is generally the case that second sight, which once attained the dignity of being called 'deuteroscopia,' sees a doomed man or woman shrink to the size of a dwarf. the 'tall man' is not far off in such cases. 'in some age of the world more remote than even that of alypos,' says hugh miller, 'the whole of britain was peopled by giants--a fact amply supported by early english historians and the traditions of the north of scotland. diocletian, king of syria, say the historians, had thirty-three daughters, who, like the daughters of danaus, killed their husbands on their wedding night. the king, their father, in abhorrence of the crime, crowded them all into a ship, which he abandoned to the mercy of the waves, and which was drifted by tides and winds till it arrived on the coast of britain, then an uninhabited island. there they lived solitary, subsisting on roots and berries, the natural produce of the soil, until an order of demons, becoming enamoured of them, took them for their wives; and a tribe of giants, who must be regarded as the true aborigines of the country, if indeed the demons have not a prior claim, were the fruit of these marriages. less fortunate, however, than even their prototypes the cyclops, the whole tribe was extirpated a few ages after by brutus the parricide, who, with a valour to which mere bulk could offer no effectual resistance, overthrew gog-magog and termagol, and a whole host of others with names equally terrible. tradition is less explicit than the historians in what relates to the origin and extinction of the race, but its narratives of their prowess are more minute. there is a large and ponderous stone in the parish of edderston which a giantess of the tribe is said to have flung from the point of a spindle across the dornoch firth; and another, within a few miles of dingwall, still larger and more ponderous, which was thrown by a person of the same family, and which still bears the marks of a gigantic finger and thumb.' [ ] perhaps we may find the mythological descendants of these titans, and also of the druids, in the so-called 'great men' once dreaded by highlanders. the natives of south uist believed that a valley, called glenslyte, situated between two mountains on the east side of the island, was haunted by these great men, and that if any one entered the valley without formally resigning themselves to the conduct of those beings, they would infallibly become mad. martin, having remonstrated with the people against this superstition, was told of a woman's having come out of the valley a lunatic because she had not uttered the spell of three sentences. they also told him of voices heard in the air. the brownie ('a tall man with very long brown hair'), who has cow's milk poured out for him on a hill in the same region, probably of this giant tribe, might easily have been demonised at the time when the druids were giving st. columba so much trouble, and trying to retain their influence over the people by professing supernatural powers. [ ] the man of the smaller stature, making up for his inferiority by invention, perhaps first forged the sword, the coat of mail, and the shield, and so confronted the giant with success. the god with the hammer might thus supersede the god of the flint spear. magic art seemed to have rendered invulnerable the man from whom the arrow rebounded. it would appear from king olaf tryggvason's saga that nine hundred years ago the icelanders and the danes reciprocally regarded each other as giants and dwarfs. the icelanders indited lampoons against the danes which allude to their diminutive size:-- the gallant harald in the field between his legs lets drop his shield, into a pony he was changed, &c. on the other hand, the danes had by no means a contemptuous idea of their icelandic enemies, as the following narrative from heimskringla proves. 'king harald told a warlock to hie to iceland in some altered shape, and to try what he could learn there to tell him: and he set out in the shape of a whale. and when he came near to the land he went to the west side of iceland, north around the land, when he saw all the mountains and hills full of land-serpents, some great, some small. when he came to vapnafiord he went in towards the land, intending to go on shore; but a huge dragon rushed down the dale against him, with a train of serpents, paddocks, and toads, that blew poison towards him. then he turned to go westward around the land as far as eyafiord, and he went into the fiord. then a bird flew against him, which was so great that its wings stretched over the mountains on either side of the fiord, and many birds, great and small, with it. then he swam further west, and then south into breidafiord. when he came into the fiord a large grey bull ran against him, wading into the sea, and bellowing fearfully, and he was followed by a crowd of land-serpents. from thence he went round by reikaness and wanted to land at vikarsted, but there came down a hill-giant against him with an iron staff in his hands. he was a head higher than the mountains, and many other giants followed him.' the most seductive hesperian gardens of the south and east do not appear to have been so thoroughly guarded or defended as iceland, and one can hardly call it cowardice when (after the wizard-whale brought back the log of its voyage) it is recorded: 'then the danish king turned about with his fleet and sailed back to denmark.' it is a sufficiently curious fact that the mimacs, aborigines of nova scotia, [ ] were found with a whale-story, already referred to (p. ), so much like this. they also have the legend of an ancient warrior named booin, who possessed the præternatural powers especially ascribed to odin, those of raising storms, causing excessive cold, increasing or diminishing his size, and assuming any shape. besides the fearful race of gigantic ice-demons dreaded by this tribe, as elsewhere stated (p. ), they dread also a yellow-horned dragon called cheepichealm, (whose form the great booin sometimes assumes). they make offerings to the new moon. they believe in pixies, calling them wigguladum-moochkik, 'very little people.' they anciently believed in two great spirits, good and evil, both called manitoos; since their contact with christians only the evil one has been so called. the entire motif of the mimac demonology is, to my mind, that of early conflicts with some formidable races. it is to be hoped that travellers will pay more attention to this unique race before it has ceased to exist. the chinese theory of genii is almost exactly that of the mimacs. the chinese genii are now small as a moth, now fill the world; can assume any form; they command demons; they never die, but, at the end of some centuries, ride to heaven on a dragon's back. [ ] ordinarily the chinese genii use the yellow heron as an aerial courser. the mimacs believe in a large præternatural water-bird, culloo, which devours ordinary people, but bears on its back those who can tame it by magic. mr. mayers, in his 'chinese reader's manual,' suggests that the designation of formosa as 'isles of the genii' (san shén shan) by the chinese, has some reference to their early attempts at colonisation in japan. su fuh, a necromancer, who lived b.c. , is said to have announced their discovery, and at the head of a troop of young men and maidens, voyaged with an expedition towards them, but, when within sight of the magic islands, were driven back by contrary winds. gog and magog stand in london guildhall, though much diminished in stature, to suit the english muscles that had to bear them in processions, monuments of the præternatural size attributed to the enemies which the aryan race encountered in its great westward migrations. even to-day, when the progress of civilisation is harassed by untamed scythian hordes, how strangely fall upon our ears the ancient legends and prophecies concerning them! thus saith the lord jehovah: behold i am against thee, o gog, prince of rosh, of meshech, and of tubul: and i will turn thee back, and leave but the sixth part of thee; and i will cause thee to come up from the north parts, and will bring thee upon the mountains of israel: and i will smite thy bow out of thy left hand, and will cause thine arrows to fall from thy right hand. thou shalt fall upon the mountains of israel, thou and all thy bands. [ ] in the koran it is related of dhulkarnein:--'he journeyed from south to north until he came between the two mountains, beneath which he found a people who could scarce understand what was said. and they said, o dhulkarnein, verily gog and magog waste the land; shall we, therefore, pay thee tribute, on condition that thou build a rampart between us and them? he answered, the power wherewith my lord hath strengthened me is better than your tribute; but assist me strenuously and i will set a strong wall between you and them.... wherefore when this wall was finished, gog and magog could not scale it, neither could they dig through it. and dhulkarnein said, this is a mercy from my lord; but when the prediction of my lord shall come to be fulfilled, he will reduce the wall to dust.' the terror inspired by these barbarians is reflected in the prophecies of their certain irruption from their supernaturally-built fastnesses; as in ezekiel:-- thou shalt ascend and come like a storm, thou shalt be like a cloud to cover the land, thou and all thy bands, and many people with thee; and in the koran, 'gog and magog shall have a passage open for them, and they shall hasten from every high hill;' and in the apocalypse, 'satan shall be loosed out of his prison, and shall go out to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, gog and magog, to gather them in battle: the number of whom is as the sand of the sea.' five centuries ago sir john maundeville was telling in england the legend he had heard in the east. 'in that same regioun ben the mountaynes of caspye, that men clepen uber in the contree. betwene the mountaynes the jews of lynages ben enclosed, that men clepen gothe and magothe: and they mowe not gon out on no syde. there weren enclosed kynges, with hire peple, that dwelleden betwene the mountayns of sythe. there king alisandre chacede hem betwene the mountaynes, and there he thought for to enclose hem thorghe work of his men. but when he saughe that he might not doon it, ne bringe it to an ende, he preyed to god of nature, that he wolde performe that that he had begoune. and all were it so, that he was a payneme, and not worthi to ben herd, zit god of his grace closed the mountaynes to gydre: so that thei dwellen there, all fast ylokked and enclosed with highe mountaynes all aboute, saf only on o syde; and on that syde is the see of caspye.' chapter vii. barrenness. indian famine and sun-spots--sun-worship--demon of the desert--the sphinx--egyptian plagues described by lepsius: locusts, hurricane, flood, mice, flies--the sheikh's ride--abaddon--set--typhon--the cain wind--seth--mirage--the desert eden--azazel--tawiscara and the wild rose. in their adoration of rain-giving indra as also a solar majesty, the ancient hindus seem to have been fully aware of his inconsistent habits. 'thy inebriety is most intense,' exclaims the eulogist, and soothingly adds, 'thou desirest that both thy inebriety and thy beneficence should be the means of destroying enemies and distributing riches.' [ ] against famine is invoked the thunderbolt of indra, and it is likened to the terrible tvashtri, in whose fearful shape (pure fire) agni once appeared to the terror of gods and men. [ ] this tvashtri was not an evil being himself, but, as we have seen, an artificer for the gods similar to vulcan; he was, however, father of a three-headed monster who has been identified with vritra. though these early worshippers recognised that their chief trouble was connected with 'glaring heat' (which tvashtri seems to mean in the passage just referred to), indra's celebrants beheld him superseding his father dyaus, and reigning in the day's splendour as well as in the cloud's bounty. this monopolist of parts in their theogony anticipated jupiter pluvius. vedic mythology is pervaded with stories of the demons that arrested the rain and stole the cloud-cows of indra--shutting them away in caves,--and the god is endlessly praised for dealing death to such. he slays vritra, the 'rain-arresting,' and dribhika, bala, urana, arbuda, 'devouring swasna,' 'unabsorbable súshna,' pipru, namuchi, rudhikrá, varchin and his hundred thousand descendants; [ ] the deadly strangling serpent ahi, especial type of drouth as it dries up rivers; and through all these combats with the alleged authors of the recurring barrenness and famine, as most of these monsters were, the seat of the evil was the sun-god's adorable self! almost pathetic does the long and vast history appear just now, when competent men of science are giving us good reason to believe that right knowledge of the sun, and the relation of its spots to the rainfall, might have covered india with ways and means which would have adapted the entire realm to its environment, and wrested from indra his hostile thunderbolt--the sunstroke of famine. the hindus have covered their lands with temples raised to propitiate and deprecate the demons, and to invoke the deities against such sources of drouth and famine. had they concluded that famine was the result of inexactly quartered sun-dials, the land would have been covered with perfect sun-dials; but the famine would have been more destructive, because of the increasing withdrawal of mind and energy from the true cause, and its implied answer. even so were conflagrations in london attributed to inexact city clocks; the clocks would become perfect, the conflagrations more numerous, through misdirection of vigilance. but how much wiser are we of christendom than the hindus? they have adapted their country perfectly for propitiation of famine-demons that do not exist, at a cost which would long ago have rendered them secure from the famine-forces that do exist. we have similarly covered christendom with a complete system of securities against hells and devils and wrathful deities that do not exist, while around our churches, chapels, cathedrals, are the actually-existent seething hells of pauperism, shame, and crime. 'nothing can advance art in any district of this accursed machine-and-devil-driven england until she changes her mind in many things.' so wrote john ruskin recently. of course, so long as the machine toils and earns wealth and other power which still goes to support and further social and ecclesiastical forms, constituted with reference to salvation from a devil or demons no longer believed in, the phrase 'machine-and-devil-driven' is true. until the invention and enterprise of the nation are administered in the interest of right ideas, we may still sigh, like john sterling, for 'a dozen men to stand up for ideas as cobden and his friends do for machinery.' but it still remains as true that all the machinery and wealth of england devoted to man might make its every home happy, and educate every inhabitant, as that every idolatrous temple in india might be commuted into a shield against famine. our astronomers and economists have enabled us to see clearly how the case is with the country whose temples offer no obstruction to christian vision. the facts point to the conclusion that the sun-spots reach their maximum and minimum of intensity at intervals of eleven years, and that their high activity is attended with frequent fluctuations of the magnetic needle, and increased rainfall. in , and since then, famines in india have, with one exception, followed years of minimum sun-spots. [ ] these facts are sufficiently well attested to warrant the belief that english science and skill will be able to realise in india the provision which joseph is said to have made for the seven lean years of which pharaoh dreamed. until that happy era shall arrive, the poor hindus will only go on alternately adoring and propitiating the sun, as its benign or its cruel influences shall fall upon them. the artist turner said, 'the sun is god.' the superb effects of light in turner's pictures could hardly have come from any but a sun-worshipper dwelling amid fogs. unfamiliarity often breeds reverence. there are few countries in which the sun, when it does shine, is so likely to be greeted with enthusiasm, and observed in all its variations of splendour, as one in which its appearance is rare. yet the superstition inherited from regions where the sun is equally a desolation was strong enough to blot out its glory in the mind of a writer famous in his time, tobias swinden, m.a., who wrote a work to prove the sun to be the abode of the damned. [ ] the speculation may now appear only curious, but, probably, it is no more curious than a hundred years from now will seem to all the vulgar notion of future fiery torments for mankind, the scriptural necessity of which led the fanciful rector to his grotesque conclusion. these two extremes--the sun-worship of turner, the sun-horror of swinden,--survivals in england, represent the two antagonistic aspects of the sun, which were of overwhelming import to those who dwelt beneath its greatest potency. his ill-humour, or his hunger and thirst, in any year transformed the earth to a desert, and dealt death to thousands. in countries where drouth, barrenness, and consequent famine were occasional, as in india, it would be an inevitable result that they would represent the varying moods of a powerful will, and in such regions we naturally find the most extensive appliances for propitiation. the preponderant number of fat years would tell powerfully on the popular imagination in favour of priestly intercession, and the advantage of sacrifices to the great hunger-demon who sometimes consumed the seeds of the earth. but in countries where barrenness was an ever-present, visible, unvarying fact, the demon of the desert would represent necessity, a power not to be coaxed or changed. people dwelling in distant lands might invent theoretical myths to account for the desert. it might be an accident resulting from the sun-god having given up his chariot one day to an inexperienced driver who came too close to the earth. but to those who lived beside the desert it could only seem an infernal realm, quite irrecoverable. the ancient civilisation of egypt, so full of grandeur, might, in good part, have been due to the lesson taught them by the desert, that they could not change the conditions around them by any entreaties, but must make the best of what was left. if such, indeed, was the force that built the ancient civilisation whose monuments remain so magnificent in their ruins, its decay might be equally accounted for when that primitive faith passed into a theological phase. for as necessity is the mother of invention, fate is fatal to the same. belief in facts, and laws fixed in the organic nature of things, stimulates man to study them and constitute his life with reference to them; but belief that things are fixed by the arbitrary decree of an individual power is the final sentence of enterprise. fate might thus steadily bring to ruin the grandest achievements of necessity. had we only the true history of the sphinx--the binder--we might find it a landmark between the rise and decline of egyptian civilisation. when the great limitation surrounding the powers of man was first personified with that mystical grandeur, it would stand in the desert not as the riddle but its solution. no such monument was ever raised by doubt. but once personified and outwardly shaped, the external binder must bind thought as well; nay, will throttle thought if it cannot pierce through the stone and discover the meaning of it. 'how true is that old fable of the sphinx who sat by the wayside propounding her riddle to the passengers, which if they could not answer she destroyed them! such a sphinx is this life of ours to all men and societies of men. nature, like the sphinx, is of womanly celestial loveliness and tenderness; the face and bosom of a goddess, but ending in claws and the body of a lioness. there is in her a celestial beauty,--which means celestial order, pliancy to wisdom; but there is also a darkness, a ferocity, fatality, which are infernal. she is a goddess, but one not yet disimprisoned; one still half-imprisoned,--the articulate, lovely still encased in the inarticulate, chaotic. how true! and does she not propound her riddles to us? of each man she asks daily, in mild voice, yet with a terrible significance, 'knowest thou the meaning of this day? what thou canst do to-day, wisely attempt to do.' nature, universe, destiny, existence, howsoever we name this grand unnameable fact, in the midst of which we live and struggle, is as a heavenly bride and conquest to the wise and brave, to them who can discern her behests and do them; a destroying fiend to them who cannot. answer her riddle, it is well with thee. answer it not, pass on regarding it not, it will answer itself; the solution for thee is a thing of teeth and claws; nature to thee is a dumb lioness, deaf to thy pleadings, fiercely devouring. thou art not now her victorious bridegroom; thou art her mangled victim, scattered on the precipices, as a slave found treacherous, recreant, ought to be, and must.' [ ] on the verge of the desert, prime minister to the necropolis at whose gateway it stands, the sphinx reposes amid the silence of science and the centuries. who built it? none can answer, so far as the human artist, or the king under whom he worked, is concerned. but the ideas and natural forces which built the sphinx surround even now the archæologist who tries to discover its history and chronology. as fittest appendage to carlyle's interpretation, let us read some passages from lepsius. 'the oedipus for this king of the sphinxes is yet wanting. whoever would drain the immeasurable sand-flood which buries the tombs themselves, and lay open the base of the sphinx, the ancient temple-path, and the surrounding hills, could easily decide it. but with the enigmas of history there are joined many riddles and wonders of nature, which i must not leave quite unnoticed. the newest of all, at least, i must describe. 'i had descended with abeken into a mummy-pit, to open some newly discovered sarcophagi, and was not a little astonished, upon descending, to find myself in a regular snow-drift of locusts, which, almost darkening the heavens, flew over our heads from the south-west from the desert in hundreds of thousands to the valley. i took it for a single flight, and called my companions from the tombs, where they were busy, that they might see this egyptian wonder ere it was over. but the flight continued; indeed the work-people said it had begun an hour before. then we first observed that the whole region, near and far, was covered with locusts. i sent an attendant into the desert to discover the breadth of the flock. he ran for the distance of a quarter of an hour, then returned and told us that, as far as he could see, there was no end to them. i rode home in the midst of the locust shower. at the edge of the fruitful plain they fell down in showers; and so it went on the whole day until the evening, and so the next day from morning till evening, and the third; in short to the sixth day, indeed in weaker flights much longer. yesterday it did seem that a storm of rain in the desert had knocked down and destroyed the last of them. the arabs are now lighting great smoke-fires in the fields, and clattering and making loud noises all day long to preserve their crops from the unexpected invasion. it will, however, do little good. like a new animated vegetation, these millions of winged spoilers cover even the neighbouring sand-hills, so that scarcely anything is to be seen of the ground; and when they rise from one place they immediately fall down somewhere in the neighbourhood; they are tired with their long journey, and seem to have lost all fear of their natural enemies, men, animals, smoke, and noise, in their furious wish to fill their stomachs, and in the feeding of their immense number. the most wonderful thing, in my estimation, is their flight over the naked wilderness, and the instinct which has guided them from some oasis over the inhospitable desert to the fat soil of the nile vale. fourteen years ago, it seems, this egyptian plague last visited egypt with the same force. the popular idea is that they are sent by the comet which we have observed for twelve days in the south-west, and which, as it is now no longer obscured by the rays of the moon, stretches forth its stately tail across the heavens in the hours of the night. the zodiacal light, too, so seldom seen in the north, has lately been visible for several nights in succession.' other plagues of egypt are described by lepsius:-- 'suddenly the storm grew to a tremendous hurricane, such as i have never seen in europe, and hail fell upon us in such masses as almost to turn day into night.... our tents lie in a valley, whither the plateau of the pyramids inclines, and are sheltered from the worst winds from the north and west. presently i saw a dashing mountain flood hurrying down upon our prostrate and sand-covered tents, like a giant serpent upon its certain prey. the principal stream rolled on to the great tent; another arm threatened mine without reaching it. but everything that had been washed from our tents by the shower was torn away by the two streams, which joined behind the tents, and carried into a pool behind the sphinx, where a great lake immediately formed, which fortunately had no outlet. just picture this scene to yourself! our tents, dashed down by the storm and heavy rain, lying between two mountain torrents, thrusting themselves in several places to the depth of six feet in the sand, and depositing our books, drawings, sketches, shirts, and instruments--yes, even our levers and iron crow-bars; in short, everything they could seize, in the dark foaming mud-ocean. besides this, ourselves wet to the skin, without hats, fastening up the weightier things, rushing after the lighter ones, wading into the lake to the waist to fish out what the sand had not yet swallowed; and all this was the work of a quarter of an hour, at the end of which the sun shone radiantly again, and announced the end of this flood by a bright and glorious rainbow. 'now comes the plague of mice, with which we were not formerly acquainted; in my tent they grow, play, and whistle, as if they had been at home here all their lives, and quite regardless of my presence. at night they have already run across my bed and face, and yesterday i started terrified from my slumbers, as i suddenly felt the sharp tooth of such a daring guest at my foot. 'above me a canopy of gauze is spread, in order to keep off the flies, these most shameless of the plagues of egypt, during the day, and the mosquitos at night.... scorpions and serpents have not bitten us yet, but there are very malicious wasps, which have often stung us. 'the dale (in the desert) was wild and monotonous, nothing but sandstone rock, the surfaces of which were burned as black as coals, but turned into burning golden yellow at every crack, and every ravine, whence a number of sand-rivulets, like fire-streams from black dross, ran and filled the valleys. no tree, no tuft of grass had we yet seen, also no animals, except a few vultures and crows feeding on the carcase of the latest fallen camel.... over a wild and broken path, and cutting stones, we came deeper and deeper into the gorge. the first wide basins were empty, we therefore left the camels and donkeys behind, climbed up the smooth granite wall, and thus proceeded amidst these grand rocks from one basin to another; they were all empty. behind there, in the farthest ravine, the guide said there must be water, for it was never empty; but there proved to be not a single drop. we were obliged to return dry.... we saw the most beautiful mirages very early in the day; they most minutely resemble seas and lakes, in which mountains, rocks, and everything in their vicinity, are reflected as in the clearest water. they form a remarkable contrast with the staring dry desert, and have probably deceived many a poor wanderer, as the legend goes. if one be not aware that no water is there, it is quite impossible to distinguish the appearance from the reality. a few days ago i felt quite sure that i perceived an overflowing of the nile, or a branch near el mechêref, and rode towards it, but only found bahr sheitan, satan's water, as the arabs call it.' [ ] amid such scenery the sphinx arose. egypt was able to recognise the problem of blended barrenness and beauty--alternation of nature's flowing breast and leonine claw--but could she return the right answer? the primitive egyptian answer may, indeed, as i have guessed, be the great monuments of her civilisation, but her historic solution has been another world. this world a desert, with here and there a momentary oasis, where man may dance and feast a little, stimulated by the corpse borne round the banquet, ere he passes to paradise. so thought they and were deceived; from generation to generation have they been destroyed, even unto this day. how destroyed, lepsius may again be our witness. 'the sheîkh of the saadîch-derwishes rides to the chief sheîkh of all the derwishes of egypt, el bekri. on the way thither, a great number of these holy folk, and others, too, who fancy themselves not a whit behind-hand in piety, throw themselves flat on the ground, with their faces downward, and so that the feet of one lie close to the head of the next; over this living carpet the sheîkh rides on his horse, which is led on each side by an attendant, in order to compel the animal to the unnatural march. each body receives two treads of the horse; most of them jump up again without hurt, but whoever suffers serious, or as it occasionally happens, mortal injury, has the additional ignominy to bear of not having pronounced, or not being able to pronounce, the proper prayers and magical charms that alone could save him.' 'what a fearful barbarous worship' (the sikr, in which the derwishes dance until exhausted, howling 'no god but allah') 'which the astounded multitude, great and small, gentle and simple, gaze upon seriously, and with stupid respect, and in which it not unfrequently takes a part! the invoked deity is manifestly much less an object of reverence than the fanatic saints who invoke him; for mad, idiotic, or other psychologically-diseased persons are very generally looked upon as holy by the mohammedans, and treated with great respect. it is the demoniacal, incomprehensibly-acting, and therefore fearfully-observed, power of nature that the natural man always reveres when he perceives it, because he is sensible of some connection between it and his intellectual power, without being able to command it; first in the mighty elements, then in the wondrous but obscure law-governed instincts of animals, and at last in the yet more overpowering ecstatical or generally abnormal mental condition of his own race.' the right answer to the enigma of the sphinx is man. but this creature prostrating himself under the sheîkh's horse, or under the invisible sheîkh called allah, and ascribing sanctity to the half-witted, is not man at all. those hard-worked slaves who escaped into the wilderness, and set up for worship an anthropomorphic supreme will, and sought their promised milk and honey in this world alone, carried with them the only force that could rightly answer the sphinx. their allah or elohim they heard say,--'why howlest thou to me? go forward.' somewhat more significant than his usual jests was that cartoon of punch which represented the sphinx with relaxed face smiling recognition on the most eminent of contemporary israelites returning to the land of his race's ancient bondage, to buy the suez canal. the suez canal half answers the sphinx; when man has subdued the great desert to a sea, the solution will be complete, and the sphinx may cast herself into it. far and wide through the southern world have swarmed the locusts described by lepsius, and with them have migrated many superstitions. the writer of this well remembers the visit of the so-called 'seventeen-year locusts,' to the region of virginia where he was born, and across many years can hear the terrible never-ceasing roar coming up from the woods, uttering, as all agreed, the ominous word 'pharaoh.' on each wing every eye could see the letter w, signifying war. with that modern bit of ancient egypt in my memory, i find the old locust-mythology sufficiently impressive. by an old tradition the egyptians, as described by lepsius, connected the locusts with the comet. in the apocalypse (ix.) a falling star is the token of the descent of the locust-demon to unlock the pit that his swarms may issue forth for their work of destruction. their king abaddon, in greek apollyon,--destroyer,--has had an evolution from being the angel of the two (rabbinical) divisions of hades to the successive chiefs of saracenic hordes. it is interesting to compare the graphic description of a locust-storm in joel, with its adaptation to an army of human destroyers in the apocalypse. and again the curious description of these hosts of abaddon in the latter book, partly repeat the strange notions of the bedouins concerning the locust,--one of whom, says niebuhr, 'compared the head of the locust to that of the horse; its breast to that of a lion; its feet to those of a camel; its body to that of the serpent; its tail to that of the scorpion; its horns (antennæ) to the locks of hair of a virgin.' the present generation has little reason to deny the appropriateness of the biblical descriptions of scythian hordes as locusts. 'the land is as the garden of eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness.' the ancient seeming contest between apparent good and evil in egypt, was represented in the wars of ra and set. it is said (gen. iv. ), 'and to seth, to him also was born a son; and he called his name enos; then began men to call upon the name of the lord.' aquila reads this--'then seth began to be called by the name of the lord.' mr. baring-gould remarks on this that seth was at first regarded by the egyptians as the deity of light and civilisation, but that they afterwards identified as typhon, because he was the chief god of the hyksos or shepherd kings; and in their hatred of these oppressors the name of seth was everywhere obliterated from their monuments, and he was represented as an ass, or with an ass's head. [ ] but the earliest date assigned to the hyksos dominion in egypt, b.c. , coincides with that of the egyptian planisphere in kircher, [ ] where seth is found identified with sirius, or the dog-headed mercury, in capricorn. this is the sothiac period, or cycle of the dog-star. he was thus associated with the goat and the winter solstice, to which (b.c. ) capricorn was adjacent. that seth or set became the name for the demon of disorder and violence among the egyptians is, indeed, probably due to his being a chief god, among some tribes baal himself, among the asiatics, before the time of the hyksos. it was already an old story to put their neighbours' light for their own darkness. the ass's ears they gave him referred not to his stupidity, but to his hearing everything, as in the case of the ass of apuleius, and the ass nicon of plutarch, or, indeed, the many examples of the same kind which preceeded the appearance of this much misunderstood animal as the steed of christ's triumphal entry into jerusalem. in egyptian symbolism those long ears were as much dreaded as devils' horns. from the eyes of ra all beneficent things, from the eyes of set all noxious things, were produced. amen-ra, as the former was called, slew the son of set, the great serpent naka, which in one hymn is perhaps tauntingly said to have 'saved his feet.' amen-ra becomes horus and set becomes typhon. the typhonian myth is very complex, and includes the conflict between the nile and all its enemies--the crocodiles that lurk in it, the sea that swallows it, the drouth that dries it, the burning heat that brings malaria from it, the floods that render it destructive--and set was through it evolved to a point where he became identified with saturn, sheitan, or satan. plutarch, identifying set with typho, says that those powers of the universal soul, which are subject to the influences of passions, and in the material system whatever is noxious, as bad air, irregular seasons, eclipses of the sun and moon, are ascribed to typho. the name set, according to him, means 'violent' and 'hostile;' and he was described as 'double-headed,' 'he who has two countenances,' and 'the lord of the world.' not the least significant fact, in a moral sense, is that set or typho is represented as the brother of osiris whom he slew. without here going into the question of relationship between typhaon and typhoeus, we may feel tolerably certain that the fire-breathing hurricane-monster typhaon of homer, and the hundred-headed, fierce-eyed roarer typhoeus--son of tartarus, father of winds and harpies--represent the same ferocities of nature. no fitter place was ever assigned him than the african desert, and the story of the gods and goddesses fleeing before typhon into egypt, and there transforming themselves into animals, from terror, is a transparent tribute to the dominion over the wilderness of sand exercised by the typhoon in its many moods. the vulture-harpy tearing the dead is his child. he is many-headed; now hot, stifling, tainted; now tempestuous; here sciroc, there hurricane, and often tornado. it may be indeed that as at once coiled in the whirlwind and blistering, he is the fiery serpent to appease whom moses lifted the brasen serpent for the worship of israel. i have often seen snakes hung up by negroes in virginia, to bring rain in time of drouth. typhon, as may easily be seen by the accompanying figure ( ), is a hungry and thirsty demon. his tongue is lolling out with thirst. [ ] his later connection with the underworld is shown in various myths, one of which seems to suggest a popular belief that typhon is not pleased with the mummies withheld from him, and that he can enjoy his human viands only through burials of the dead. in egypt, after the coptic easter monday--called shemmen-nesseem (smelling the zephyr)--come the fifty-days' hot wind, called khamseen or cain wind. after slaying abel, cain wandered amid such a wind, tortured with fever and thirst. then he saw two birds fight in the air; one having killed the other scratched a hole in the desert sand and buried it. cain then did the like by his brother's body, when a zephyr sprang up and cooled his fever. but still, say the alexandrians, the fifty-days' hot cain wind return annually. in pictures of the mirage, or in cloud-shapes faintly illumined by the afterglow, the dwellers beside the plains of sand saw, as in phantasmagoria, the gorgeous palaces, the air-castles, and mysterious cities, which make the romance of the desert. unwilling to believe that such realms of barrenness had ever been created by any good god, they beheld in dreams, which answer to nature's own mirage-dreaming, visions of dynasties passed away, of magnificent palaces and monarchs on whose pomp and heaven-defying pride the fatal sand-storm had fallen, and buried their glories in the dust for ever. the desert became the emblem of immeasurable all-devouring time. in many of these legends there are intimations of a belief that eden itself lay where now all is unbroken desert. in the beautiful legend in the midrash of solomon's voyage on the wind, the monarch alighted near a lofty palace of gold, 'and the scent there was like the scent of the garden of eden.' the dust had so surrounded this palace that solomon and his companions only learned that there had been an entrance from an eagle in it thirteen centuries old, which had heard from its father the tradition of an entrance on the western side. the obedient wind having cleared away the sand, a door was found on whose lock was written, 'be it known to you, ye sons of men, that we dwelt in this palace in prosperity and delight many years. when the famine came upon us we ground pearls in the mill instead of wheat, but it profited us nothing.' amid marvellous splendours, from chamber to chamber garnished with ruby, topaz, emerald, solomon passed to a mansion on whose three gates were written admonitions of the transitory nature of all things but--death. 'let not fortune deceive thee.' 'the world is given from one to another.' on the third gate was written, 'take provision for thy journey, and make ready food for thyself while it is yet day; for thou shalt not be left on the earth, and thou knowest not the day of thy death.' this gate solomon opened and saw within a life-like image seated: as the monarch approached, this image cried with a loud voice, 'come hither, ye children of satan; see! king solomon is come to destroy you.' then fire and smoke issued from the nostrils of the image; and there were loud and bitter cries, with earthquake and thunder. but solomon uttered against them the ineffable name, and all the images fell on their faces, and the sons of satan fled and cast themselves into the sea, that they might not fall into the hands of solomon. the king then took from the neck of the image a silver tablet, with an inscription which he could not read, until the almighty sent a youth to assist him. it said:--'i, sheddad, son of ad, reigned over a thousand thousand provinces, and rode on a thousand thousand horses; a thousand thousand kings were subject to me, and a thousand thousand warriors i slew. yet in the hour that the angel of death came against me, i could not withstand him. whoso shall read this writing let him not trouble himself greatly about this world, for the end of all men is to die, and nothing remains to man but a good name.' [ ] azazel--'of doubtful meaning'--is the biblical name of the demon of the desert (lev. xvi.). 'aaron shall cast lots upon the two goats: one lot for jehovah, and the other for azazel. and aaron shall bring the goat upon which the lot for jehovah fell, and offer him for a sin-offering: but the goat, on which the lot for azazel fell, shall be presented alive before jehovah, to make an atonement with him, to let him go to azazel in the wilderness.... and aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat, and send him away by the hand of a fit man into the desert. and the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not inhabited; and he shall let go the goat in the desert.' of the moral elements here involved much will have to be said hereafter. this demon ultimately turned to a devil; and persisting through both forms is the familiar principle that it is 'well enough to have friends on both sides' so plainly at work in the levitical custom; but it is particularly interesting to observe that the same animal should be used as offerings to the antagonistic deities. in egyptian mythology we find that the goat had precisely this two-fold consecration. it was sacred to chem, the egyptian pan, god of orchards and of all fruitful lands; and it became also sacred to mendes, the 'destroyer,' or 'avenging power' of ra. it will thus be seen that the same principle which from the sun detached the fructifying from the desert-making power, and made typhon and osiris hostile brothers, prevailed to send the same animal to azazel in the desert and jehovah of the milk and honey land. originally the goat was supreme. the samaritan pentateuch, according to aben ezra (preface to esther), opens, 'in the beginning ashima created the heaven and the earth.' in the hebrew culture-myth of cain and abel, also brothers, there may be represented, as goldziher supposes, the victory of the agriculturist over the nomad or shepherd; but there is also traceable in it the supremacy of the goat, mendez or azima. 'abel brought the firstling of the goats.' very striking is the american (iroquois) myth of the conflict between joskeha and tawiscara,--the white one and the dark one. they were twins, born of a virgin who died in giving them life. their grandmother was the moon (ataensic, she who bathes). these brothers fought, joskeha using as weapon the horns of a stag, tawiscara the wild-rose. the latter fled sorely wounded, and the blood gushing from him turned to flint-stones. the victor, who used the stag-horns (the same weapon that frey uses against beli, in the prose edda, and denoting perhaps a primitive bone-age art), destroyed a monster frog which swallowed all the waters, and guided the torrents into smooth streams and lakes. he stocked the woods with game, invented fire, watched and watered crops, and without him, says the old missionary brebeuf, 'they think they could not boil a pot.' the use by the desert-demon tawiscara of a wild rose as his weapon is a beautiful touch in this myth. so much loveliness grew even amid the hard flints. one is reminded of the closing scene in the second part of goethe's faust. there, when faust has realised the perfect hour to which he can say, 'stay, thou art fair!' by causing by his labour a wilderness to blossom as a rose, he lies down in happy death; and when the demons come for his soul, angels pelt them with roses, which sting them like flames. not wild roses were these, such as gave the dark one such poor succour. the defence of faust is the roses he has evoked from briars. chapter viii. obstacles. mephistopheles on crags--emerson on monadnoc--ruskin on alpine peasants--holy and unholy mountains--the devil's pulpit--montagnards--tarns--tenjo--t'ai-shan--apocatequil--tyrolese legends--rock ordeal--scylla and charybdis--scottish giants--pontifex--devil's bridges--le géant yéous. related to the demons of barrenness, and to the hostile human demons, but still possessing characteristics of their own, are the demons supposed to haunt gorges, mountain ranges, ridges of rocks, streams which cannot be forded and are yet unbridged, rocks that wreck the raft or boat. each and every obstruction that stood in the way of man's plough, or of his first frail ship, or his migration, has been assigned its demon. the reader of goethe's page has only to turn to the opening lines of walpurgisnacht in faust to behold the real pandemonium of the northern man, as in milton he may find that of the dweller amid fiery deserts and volcanoes. that labyrinth of vales, crossed with wild crag and furious torrent, is the natural scenery to surround the orgies of the phantoms which flit from the uncultured brain to uncultured nature. elsewhere in goethe's great poem, mephistopheles pits against the philosophers the popular theory of the rugged remnants of chaos in nature, and the obstacles before which man is powerless. faust. for me this mountain mass rests nobly dumb; i ask not whence it is, nor why 'tis come? herself when nature in herself did found this globe of earth, she then did purely round; the summit and abyss her pleasure made, mountain to mountain, rock to rock she laid; the hillocks down she neatly fashion'd then, to valleys soften'd them with gentle train. then all grew green and bloom'd, and in her joy she needs no foolish spoutings to employ. mephistopheles. so say ye! it seems clear as noon to ye, yet he knows who was there the contrary. i was hard by below, when seething flame swelled the abyss, and streaming fire forth came; when moloch's hammer forging rock to rock, far flew the fragment-cliffs beneath the shock: of masses strange and huge the land was full; who clears away such piles of hurl'd misrule? philosophers the reason cannot see; there lies the rock, and they must let it be. we have reflected till ashamed we've grown; the common folk can thus conceive alone, and in conception no disturbance know, their wisdom ripen'd has long while ago: a miracle it is, they satan honour show. my wanderer on faith's crutches hobbles on towards the devil's bridge and devil's stone. [ ] the great american poet made his pilgrimage to the mountain so beautiful in the distance, thinking to find there the men of equal elevation. did not milton describe freedom as 'a mountain nymph?' to myself i oft recount the tale of many a famous mount,-- wales, scotland, uri, hungary's dells; roys, and scanderbergs, and tells. here nature shall condense her powers, her music, and her meteors, and lifting man to the blue deep where stars their perfect courses keep, like wise preceptor, lure his eye. to sound the science of the sky. but instead of finding there the man using those crags as a fastness to fight pollution of the mind, he searched the region round and in low hut my monarch found: he was no eagle, and no earl;-- alas! my foundling was a churl, with heart of cat and eyes of bug, dull victim of his pipe and mug. [ ] ruskin has the same gloomy report to make of the mountaineers of europe. 'the wild goats that leap along those rocks have as much passion of joy in all that fair work of god as the men that toil among them. perhaps more.' 'is it not strange to reflect that hardly an evening passes in london or paris but one of those cottages is painted for the better amusement of the fair and idle, and shaded with pasteboard pines by the scene-shifter; and that good and kind people,--poetically minded,--delight themselves in imagining the happy life led by peasants who dwell by alpine fountains, and kneel to crosses upon peaks of rock? that nightly we lay down our gold to fashion forth simulacra of peasants, in gay ribbons and white bodices, singing sweet songs and bowing gracefully to the picturesque crosses; and all the while the veritable peasants are kneeling, songlessly, to veritable crosses in another temper than the kind and fair audiences dream of, and assuredly with another kind of answer than is got out of the opera catastrophe.' [ ] the writer remembers well the emphasis with which a poor woman at whose cottage he asked the path to the natural bridge in virginia said, 'i don't know why so many people come to these rocks; for my part, give me a level country.' many ages lay between that aged crone and emerson or ruskin, and they were ages of heavy war with the fortresses of nature. the fabled ordeals of water and fire through which the human race passed were associated with ararat and sinai, because to migrating or farming man the mountain was always an ordeal, irrespective even of its torrents or its occasional lava-streams. a terrible vista is opened by the cry of lot, 'i cannot escape to the mountain lest some evil take me!' not even the fire consuming sodom in the plains could nerve him to dare cope with the demons of the steep places. as time went on, devotees proved to the awe-stricken peasantries their sanctity and authority by combating those mountain demons, and erecting their altars in the 'high places.' so many summits became sacred. but this very sanctity was the means of bringing on successive demoniac hordes to haunt them; for every new religion saw in those altars in 'high places' not victories over demons, but demon-shrines. and thus mountains became the very battlefields between rival deities, each demon to his or her rival; and the conflict lasts from the cursing of the 'high places' by the priests of israel [ ] to the devil's pulpits of the alps and apennines. among the beautiful frescoes at baden is that of the angel's and the devil's pulpit, by götzenberger. near gernsbach, appropriately at the point where the cultivable valley meets the unconquerable crests of rock, stand the two pulpits from which satan and an angel contended, when the first christian missionaries had failed to convert the rude foresters. when, by the angel's eloquence, all were won from the devil's side except a few witches and usurers, the fiend tore up great masses of rock and built the 'devil's mill' on the mountain-top; and he was hurled down by the almighty on the rocks near 'lord's meadow,' where the marks of his claws may still be seen, and where, by a diminishing number of undiminished ears, his groans are still heard when a storm rages through the valley. such conflicts as these have been in some degree associated with every mountain of holy or unholy fame. each was in its time a prosaic hill difficulty, with lions by no means chained, to affright the hearts of mistrust and timorous, till dervish or christian impressed there his holy footprint, visible from adam's peak to olivet, or built there his convents, discernible from meru and olympus to pontyprydd and st. catharine's hill. by necessary truces the demons and deities repair gradually to their respective summits,--seir and sinai hold each their own. but the holy hills have never equalled the number of dark mountains [ ] dreaded by man. these obstructive demons made the mountains moul-ge and nin-ge, names for the king and queen of the accadian hell; they made the finnish mount kippumaki the abode of all pests. they have identified their name (elf) with the alps, given nearly every tarn an evil fame, and indeed created a special class of demons, 'montagnards,' much dreaded by mediæval miners, whose faces they sometimes twisted so that they must look backward physically, as they were much in the habit of doing mentally, for ever afterward. gervais of tilbury, in his chronicle, declares that on the top of mount canigon in france, which has a very inaccessible summit, there is a black lake of unknown depth, at whose bottom the demons have a palace, and that if any one drops a stone into that water, the wrath of the mountain demons is shown in sudden and frightful tempests. from a like tarn in cornwall, as cornish folklore claims, on an accessible but very tedious hill, came up the hand which received the brand escalibore when its master could wield it no more,--as told in the morte d'arthur, with, however, clear reference to the sea. i cannot forbear enlivening my page with the following sketch of a visit of english officers to the realm of ten-jo, the long-nosed mountain-demon of japan, which is very suggestive of the mental atmosphere amid which such spectres exist. the mountains and forests of japan are, say these writers, inhabited as thickly by good and evil spirits as the hartz and black forest, and chief among them, in horrible sanctity, is o-yama,--the word echoes the hindu yama, japanese amma, kings of hades,--whose demon is ten-jo. 'abdul and mulney once started, on three days' leave, with the intention of climbing to the summit--not of ten-jo's nose, but of the mountain; their principal reason for so doing being simply that they were told by every one that they had better not. they first tried the ascent on the most accessible side, but fierce two-sworded yakomins jealously guarded it; and they were obliged to make the attempt on the other, which was almost inaccessible, and was ten-jo's region. the villagers at the base of the mountain begged them to give up the project; and one old man, a species of patriarch, reasoned with them. 'what are you going to do when you get to the top?' he asked. our two friends were forced to admit that their course, then, would be very similar to that of the king of france and his men--come down again. the old man laughed pityingly, and said, 'well, go if you like; but, take my word for it, ten-jo will do you an injury.' they asked who ten-jo was. 'why ten-jo,' said the old man, 'is an evil spirit, with a long nose, who will dislocate your limbs if you persist in going up the mountain on this side.' 'how do you know he has got a long nose?' they asked, 'have you ever seen him?' 'because all evil spirits have long noses'--here mulney hung his head,--'and,' continued the old man, not noticing how dreadfully personal he was becoming to one of the party, 'ten-jo has the longest of the lot. did you ever know a man with a long nose who was good?' 'come on,' said mulney hurriedly to abdul, 'or the old fool will make me out an evil spirit.' 'syonara,' said the old man as they walked away, 'but look out for ten-jo!' after climbing hard for some hours, and not meeting a single human being,--not even the wood-cutter could be tempted by the fine timber to encroach on ten-jo's precincts,--they reached the top, and enjoyed a magnificent view. after a rest they started on their descent, the worst part of which they had accomplished, when, as they were walking quietly along a good path, abdul's ankle turned under him, and he went down as if he had been shot, with his leg broken in two places. with difficulty mulney managed to get him to the village they had started from, and the news ran like wild-fire that ten-jo had broken the leg of one of the adventurous tojins. 'i told you how it would be,' exclaimed the old man, 'but you would go. ah, ten-jo is a dreadful fellow!' all the villagers, clustering round, took up the cry, and shook their heads. ten-jo's reputation had increased wonderfully by this accident. poor abdul was on his back for eleven weeks, and numbers of japanese--for he was a general favourite amongst them--went to see him, and to express their regret and horror at ten-jo's behaviour. [ ] it is obvious that to a demon dwelling in a high mountain a long nose would be variously useful to poke into the affairs of people dwelling in the plains, and also to enjoy the scent of their sacrifices offered at a respectful distance. that feature of the face which napoleon i. regarded as of martial importance, and which is prominent in the warriors marked on the mycenæ pottery, has generally been a physiognomical characteristic of european ogres, who are blood-smellers. that the significance of ten-jo's long nose is this, appears probable when we compare him with the calmuck demon erlik, whose long nose is for smelling out the dying. the cossacks believed that the protector of the earth was a many-headed elephant. the snouted demon (figure ) is from a picture of christ delivering adam and eve from hell, by lucas van leyden, . the chinese mountains also have their demons. the demon of the mountain t'ai-shan, in shantung, is believed to regulate the punishments of men in this world and the next. four other demon princes rule over the principal mountain chains of the empire. mr. dennys remarks that mountainous localities are so regularly the homes of fairies in chinese superstition that some connection between the fact and the relation of 'elf' to 'alp' in europe is suggested. [ ] but this coincidence is by no means so remarkable as the appearance among these chinese mountain sprites of the magical 'sesame,' so familiar to us in arabian legend. the celebrated mountain ku'en lun (usually identified with the hindoo kush) is said to be peopled with fairies, who cultivate upon its terraces the 'fields of sesamum and gardens of coriander seeds,' which are eaten as ordinary food by those who possess the gift of longevity. in the superstitions of the american aborigines we find gigantic demons who with their hands piled up mountain-chains as their castles, from whose peak-towers they hurled stones on their enemies in the plains, and slung them to the four corners of the earth. [ ] such was the terrible apocatequil, whose statue was erected on the mountains, with that of his mother on the one hand and his brother on the other. he was prince of evil and the chief god of the peruvians. from quito to cuzco every indian would give all he possessed to conciliate him. five priests, two stewards, and a crowd of slaves served his image. his principal temple was surrounded by a considerable village, whose inhabitants had no other occupation than to wait on him. [ ] the plaudits which welcomed the first railway train that sped beneath the alps, echoing amid their crags and gorges, struck with death the old phantasms which had so long held sway in the imagination of the southern peasantry. the great tunnel was hewn straight through the stony hearts of giants whom christianity had tried to slay, and, failing that, baptised and adopted. it is in the tyrol that we find the clearest survivals of the old demons of obstruction, the mountain monarchs. such is jordan the giant of kohlhütte chasm, near ungarkopf, whose story, along with others, is so prettily told by the countess von gunther. this giant is something of a ten-jo as to nose, for he smells 'human meat' where his pursued victims are hidden, and his snort makes things tremble as before a tempest; but he has not the intelligence ascribed to large noses, for the boys ultimately persuade him that the way to cross a stream is to tie a stone around his neck, and he is drowned. one of the giants of albach could carry a rock weighing , pounds, and his comrades, while carrying others of pounds, could leap from stone to stone across rivers, and stoop to catch the trout with their hands as they leaped. the ferocious orco, the mountain-ghost who never ages, fulfils the tradition of his classic name by often appearing as a monstrous black dog, from whose side stones rebound, and fills the air with a bad smell (like mephisto). his employment is hurling wayfarers down precipices. in her story of the 'unholdenhof'--or 'monster farm' in the stubeithal--the countess von gunther describes the natural character of the mountain demons. 'it was on this self-same spot that the forester and his son took up their abode, and they became the dread and abomination of the whole surrounding country, for they practised, partly openly and partly in secret, the most manifold iniquities, so that their nature and bearing grew into something demoniacal. as quarrellers very strong, and as enemies dreadfully revengeful, they showed their diabolical nature by the most inhuman deeds, which brought down injury not only on those against whom their wrath was directed, but also upon their families for centuries. in the heights of the mountains they turned the beds of the torrents, and devastated by this means the most flourishing tracts of land; on other places the unholde set on fire whole mountain forests, to allow free room for the avalanches to rush down and overwhelm the farms. through certain means they cut holes and fissures in the rocks, in which, during the summer, quantities of water collected, which froze in the winter, and then in the spring the thawing ice split the rocks, which then rolled down into the valleys, destroying everything before them.... but at last heaven's vengeance reached them. an earthquake threw the forester's house into ruins, wild torrents tore over it, and thunderbolts set all around it in a blaze; and by fire and water, with which they had sinned, father and son perished, and were condemned to everlasting torments. up to the present day they are to be seen at nightfall on the mountain in the form of two fiery boars.' [ ] some of these giants, as has been intimated, were converted. such was the case with heimo, who owned and devastated a vast tract of country on the river inn, which, however, he bridged--whence innsbruck--when he became a christian and a monk. this conversion was a terrible disappointment to the devil, who sent a huge dragon to stop the building of the monastery; but heimo attacked the dragon, killed him, and cut out his tongue. with this tongue, a yard and a half long, in his hand, he is represented in his statue, and the tongue is still preserved in the cloister. heimo became a monk at wilten, lived a pious life, and on his death was buried near the monastery. the stone coffin in which the gigantic bones repose is shown there, and measures over twenty-eight feet. of nearly the same character as the mountain demons, and possessing even more features of the demons of barrenness, are the monsters guarding rocky passes. they are distributed through land, sea, and rivers. the famous rocks between italy and sicily bore the names of dangerous monsters, scylla and charybdis, which have now become proverbial expressions for alternative perils besetting any enterprise. according to homer, scylla was a kind of canine monster with six long necks, the mouths paved each with three rows of sharp teeth; while charybdis, sitting under her fig-tree, daily swallowed the waters and vomited them up again. [ ] distantly related to these fabulous monsters, probably, are many of the old notions of ordeals undergone between rocks standing close together, or sometimes through holes in rocks, of which examples are found in great britain. an ordeal of this kind exists at pera, where the holy well is reached through a narrow slit. visitors going there recently on new year's day were warned by the dervish in charge--'look through it at the water if you please, but do not essay to enter unless your consciences are completely free from sin, for as sure as you try to pass through with a taint upon your soul, you will be gripped by the rock and held there for ever.' [ ] the 'bocca della verità'--a great stone face like a huge millstone--stands in the portico of the church s. maria in cosmedin at rome, and its legend is that a suspected person was required to place his hand through the open mouth; if he swore falsely it would bite off the hand--the explanation now given being that a swordsman was concealed behind to make good the judicial shrewdness of the stone in case the oath were displeasing to the authorities. the myth of scylla, which relates that she was a beautiful maiden, beloved by glaucus, whom circe through jealousy transformed to a monster by throwing magic herbs into the well where she was wont to bathe, is recalled by various european legends. in thuringia, on the road to oberhof, stands the red stone, with its rosebush, and a stream issuing from beneath it, where a beautiful maid is imprisoned. every seven years she may be seen bathing in the stream. on one occasion a peasant passing by heard a sneeze in the rock, and called out, 'god help thee!' the sneeze and the benediction were repeated, until at the seventh time the man cried, 'oh, thou cursed witch, deceive not honest people!' as he then walked off, a wailing voice came out of the stone, 'oh, hadst thou but only wished the last time that god would help me. he would have helped me, and thou wouldst have delivered me; now i must tarry till the day of judgment!' the voice once cried out to a wedding procession passing by the stone, 'to-day wed, next year dead;' and the bride having died a year after, wedding processions dread the spot. the legends of giants and giantesses, so numerous in great britain, are equally associated with rocky mountain-passes, or the boulders they were supposed to have tossed thence when sportively stoning each other. they are the tor of the south and ben of the north. the hills of ross-shire in scotland are mythological monuments of cailliachmore, great woman, who, while carrying a pannier filled with earth and stones on her back, paused for a moment on a level spot, now the site of ben-vaishard, when the bottom of the pannier gave way, forming the hills. the recurrence of the names gog and magog in scotland suggests that in mountainous regions the demons were especially derived from the hordes of robbers and savages, among whom, in their uncultivable hills, the ploughshare could never conquer the spear and club. richard doyle enriched the first exhibition of the grosvenor gallery in london, , with many beautiful pictures inspired by european folklore. they were a pretty garniture for the cemetery of dead religions. the witch once seen on her broom departing from the high crags of cuhillan, cheered by her faithful dwarf, is no longer unlovely as in the days when she was burned by proxy in some poor human hag; obedient to art--a more potent wand than her own--she reascends to the clouds from which she was borne, and is hardly distinguishable from them. slowly man came to learn with the poet-- it was the mountain streams that fed the fair green plain's amenities. [ ] then the giants became fairies, and not a few of these wore at last the mantles of saints. a similar process has been undergone by another subject, which finds its pretty epitaph in the artist's treatment. we saw in two pictures the dame blanche of normandy, lurking in the ravine beside a stream under the dusk, awaiting yon rustic wood-cutter who is presently horizontal in the air in that mad dance, after which he will be found exhausted. as her mountain-sister is faintly shaped out of the clouds that cap cuhillan, this one is an imaginative outgrowth of the twilight shadows, the silvery glintings of moving clouds mirrored in pools, and her tresses are long luxuriant grasses. she is of a sisterhood which passes by hardly perceptible gradations into others, elsewhere described--the creations of illusion and night. she is not altogether one of these, however, but a type of more direct danger--the peril of fords, torrents, thickets, marshes, and treacherous pools, which may seem shallow, but are deep. the water-demons have been already described in their obvious aspects, but it is necessary to mention here the simple obstructive river-demons haunting fords and burns, and hating bridges. many tragedies, and many personifications of the forces which caused them, preceded the sanctity of the title pontifex. the torrent that roared across man's path seemed the vomit of a demon: the sacred power was he who could bridge it. in one of the most beautiful celebrations of indra it is said: 'he tranquillised this great river so that it might be crossed; he conveyed across it in safety the sages who had been unable to pass over it, and who, having crossed, proceeded to realise the wealth they sought; in the exhilaration of the soma, indra has done these deeds.' [ ] in ceylon, the demon tota still casts malignant spells about fords and ferries. many are the legends of the opposition offered by demons to bridge-building, and of the sacrifices which had to be made to them before such works could be accomplished. a few specimens must suffice us. mr. dennys relates a very interesting one of the 'loh-family bridge' at shanghai. difficulty having been found in laying the foundations, the builder vowed to heaven two thousand children if the stones could be placed properly. the goddess addressed said she would not require their lives, but that the number named would be attacked by small-pox, which took place, and half the number died. a chinese author says, 'if bridges are not placed in proper positions, such as the laws of geomancy indicate, they may endanger the lives of thousands, by bringing about a visitation of small-pox or sore eyes.' at hang-chow a tea-merchant cast himself into the river tsien-tang as a sacrifice to the spirit of the dikes, which were constantly being washed away. the 'devil's bridges,' to which mephistopheles alludes so proudly, are frequent in germany, and most of them, whether natural or artificial, have diabolical associations. the oldest structures often have legends in which are reflected the conditions exacted by evil powers, of those who spanned the fords in which men had often been drowned. of this class is the montafon bridge in the tyrol, and another is the bridge at ratisbon. the legend of the latter is a fair specimen of those which generally haunt these ancient structures. its architect was apprentice to a master who was building the cathedral, and laid a wager that he would bridge the danube before the other laid the coping-stone of the sacred edifice. but the work of bridging the river was hard, and after repeated failures the apprentice began to swear, and wished the devil had charge of the business! whereupon he of the cloven foot appeared in guise of a friar, and agreed to build the fifteen arches--for a consideration. the fee was to be the first three that crossed the bridge. the cunning apprentice contrived that these three should not be human, but a dog, a cock, and a hen. the devil, in wrath at the fraud, tore the animals to pieces and disappeared; a procession of monks passed over the bridge and made it safe; and thereon are carved figures of the three animals. in most of the stories it is a goat which is sent over and mangled, that poor animal having preserved its character as scape-goat in a great deal of the folklore of christendom. the danube was of old regarded as under the special guardianship of the prince of darkness, who used to make great efforts to obstruct the crusaders voyaging down it to rescue the holy land from pagans. on one occasion, near the confluence of the vilz and danube, he began hurling huge rocks into the river-bed from the cliffs; the holy warriors resisted successfully by signing the cross and singing an anthem, but the huge stone first thrown caused a whirl and swell in that part of the river, which were very dangerous until it was removed by engineers. it is obvious, especially to the english, who have so long found a defensive advantage in the silver streak of sea that separates them from the continent, that an obstacle, whether of mountain-range or sea, would, at a certain point in the formation of a nation, become as valuable as at another it might be obstructive. euphemism is credited with having given the friendly name 'euxine' to the rough 'axine' sea,--'terrible to foreigners.' but this is not so certain. many a tribe has found the black sea a protection and a friend. in the case of mountains, their protective advantages would account at once for milton's celebration of freedom as a mountain nymph, and for the stupidity of the people that dwell amid them, so often remarked; the very means of their independence would also be the cause of their insulation and barbarity. it is for those who go to and fro that knowledge is increased. the curious and inquiring are most apt to migrate; the enterprising will not submit to be shut away behind rocks and mountains; by their departure there would be instituted, behind the barriers of rock and hill, a survival of the stupidest. these might ultimately come to worship their chains and cover their craggy prison-walls with convents and crosses. the demons of aliens would be their gods. the climbing hannibals would be their devils. it might have been expected, after the passages quoted from mr. ruskin concerning the bovine condition of alpine peasantries, that he would salute the tunnel through mont cenis. the peasantries who would see in the sub-alpine engine a demon are extinct. admiration of the genii of obstruction, and horror of the demons that vanquished them, are discoverable only in folk-tales distant enough to be pretty, such as the interesting serbian story of 'satan's jugglings and god's might,' in which fairies hiding in successively opened nuts vainly try to oppose with fire and flood a she-demon pursuing a prince and his bride, to whose aid at last comes a flash of lightning which strikes the fiend dead. one of the beautiful 'contes d'une grand'mère,' by george sand, le géant yéous, has in it the sense of many fables born of man's struggle with obstructive nature. with her wonted felicity she places the scene of this true human drama near the mountain yéous, in the pyrenees, whose name is a far-off echo of zeus. the summit bore an enormous rock which, seen from a distance, appeared somewhat like a statue. the peasant miquelon, who had his little farm at the mountain's base, whenever he passed made the sign of the cross and taught his little son miquel to do the same, telling him that the great form was that of a pagan god, an enemy of the human race. an avalanche fell upon the home and garden of miquelon; the poor man himself was disabled for life, his house and farm turned in a moment into a wild mass of stones. miquel looked up to the summit of yéous; the giant had disappeared; henceforth it was the mighty form of an organic monster which the boy saw stretched over what had once been their happy home and smiling acres. the family went about begging, miquelon repeating his strange appeal, 'le géant s'est couché sur moi.' but when at last the old man dies, the son resolves to fulfil the silent dream of his life; he will encounter the giant yéous still in possession of his paternal acres. with eyes of the young world this boy sees starting up here and there amid the vast debris, the head of the demon he wishes to crush. he hurls stones hither and thither where some fearful feature or limb appears. he is filled with rage; his dreams are filled with attacks on the giant, in which the colossal head tumbles only to reappear on the shoulders; every broken limb has the self-repairing power. there is no progress. but as the boy grows, and the contest grows, and need comes, there gathers in miquel a desire to clear the ground. when he begins to think, it is no longer the passion to avenge his father on the stony giant which possesses him, but to recover their lost garden. thus, indeed, the giant himself could alone be conquered. the huge rocks are split by gunpowder, some fragments are made into fences, others into a comfortable mansion for miquel's mother and sisters. when the garden smiles again, and all are happy the demon form is no longer discoverable. [ ] this little tale interprets with fine insight the demonology of barrenness and obstruction. the boy's wrath against the unconscious cause of his troubles is the rage often observed in children who retaliate upon the table or chair on which they have been bruised, and it repeats embryologically the rage of the world's boyhood inspired by ascription of personal motives to inanimate obstructions. possibly such wrath might have added something to the force with which man entered upon his combat with nature; but george sand's tale reminds us that whatever was gained in force was lost in its misdirection. success came in the proportion that fury was replaced by the youth's growing recognition that he was dealing with facts that could not be raged out of existence. it is crowned when he makes friends with the unconquerable remnant of the giant, and sees that he is not altogether evil. it is at this stage that the higher art, conversant with beauty, enters to relieve man of many moral wounds received in the struggle. clothed with moss and clematis, yéous appears not so hideous after all. further invested by the genius of a turner, he would be beautiful. yéous is a fair giant after all, only he needed finish. he is a type of nature. the boyhood of the world has not passed away with miquel. we find a fictitious dualism cherished by the lovers of nature in their belief or feeling that nature exerts upon man some spiritual influence. ruskin has said that in looking from the campanile at venice to the circle of snow which crowns the adriatic, and then to the buildings which contain the works of titian and tintoret, he has felt unable to answer the question of his own heart, by which of these--the nature or the manhood--has god given mightier evidence of himself? so nature may teach the already taught. while ruskin looks from the campanile, the peasant is fighting the mountain and calling its rocky grandeurs by the devil's name; before the pictures he kneels. untaught by art and science, the mind can derive no elevation from nature, can find no sympathy in it. it is a false notion that there is any compensation for the ignorant, denied access to art-galleries, in ability to pass their sundays amid natural scenery. health that may bring them, but mentally they are still inside the prison-walls from which look the stony eyes of fates and furies. natural sublimities cannot refine minds crude as themselves; they must pass through thought before they can feed thought; it is nature transfigured in art that changes the snow-clad mountain from a heartless giant to a saviour in snow-pure raiment. chapter ix. illusion. maya--natural treacheries--misleaders--glamour--lorelei--chinese mermaid--transformations--swan maidens--pigeon maidens--the seal-skin--nudity--teufelsee--gohlitsee--japanese siren--dropping cave--venusberg--godiva--will-o'-wisp--holy fräulein--the forsaken merman--the water-man--sea phantom--sunken treasures--suicide. most beautiful of all the goddesses of india is maya, illusion. in hindu iconography she is portrayed in drapery of beautiful colours, with decoration of richest gems and broidery of flowers. from above her crown falls a veil which, curving above her knees, returns on the other side, making, as it were, also an apron in which are held fair animal forms--prototypes of the creation over which she has dominion. the youthful yet serious beauty of her face and head is surrounded with a semi-aureole, fringed with soft lightning, striated with luminous sparks; and these are background for a cruciform nimbus made of three clusters of rays. maya presses her full breasts, from which flow fountains of milk which fall in graceful streams to mingle with the sea on which she stands. so to our aryan ancestors appeared the spirit that paints the universe, flushing with tints so strangely impartial fruits forbidden and unforbidden for man and beast. mankind are slandered by the priest's creed, populus vult decipi; they are justly vindicated in plato's aphorism, 'unwillingly is the soul deprived of truth;' but still they are deceived. large numbers are truly described by swedenborg, who found hells whose occupants believed themselves in heaven and sang praises therefor. such praises we may hear in the loud laughter proceeding from dens where paradise has been gained by the cheap charm of a glass of gin or a prostitute's caress. serpent finds its ideal in serpent. in heaven, says swedenborg, we shall see things as they are. but it is the adage of those who have lost their paradise, and eat still the dry dust of reality not raised by science; the general world has not felt that divine curse, or it has been wiped away so that the most sensual fool may rejoice in feeling himself god's darling, and pities the paganism of plato. man and beast are certain that they do see things as they are. maya's milk is tinctured from the poppies of her robe; untold millions of misgivings have been put to sleep by her tender bounty; the waters that sustain her are those of lethe. but beneath every illusive heaven nature stretches also an illusive hell. the poppies lose their force at last, and under the scourge of necessity man wakes to find all his paradise of roses turned to briars. maya's breast-fountains pass deeper than the surface--from one flows soft lethe, the other issues at last in phlegethon. fear is even a more potent painter than hope, and out of the manifold menaces of nature can at last overlay the fairest illusions. it is a pathetic fact, that so soon as man begins to think his first theory infers a will at work wherever he sees no cause; his second, to suppose that it will harm him! harriet martineau's account of her childish terror caused by seeing some prismatic colours dancing on the wall of a vacant room she was entering--'imps' that had no worse origin than a tremulous candelabrum, but which haunted her nerves through life--is an experience which may be traced in the haunted childhood of every nation. there are other phenomena besides these prismatic colours, which have had an evil name in popular superstition, despite their beauty. strange it might seem to a buddhist that yon exquisite tree with its blood-red buds should be called the judas-tree, as to us that the graceful swan which might be the natural emblem of purity should be associated with witchcraft! but the student of mythology will at every moment be impressed by the fact that myths oftener represent a primitive science than mere fancies and conceits. the sinuous neck of the swan, its passionate jealousy, and the uncanny whistle, or else dumbness, found where, from so snowy an outside, melody might have been looked for, may have made this animal the type of a double nature. the treacherous brilliants of the serpent, or honey protected by stings, or the bright blossoms of poisons, would have trained the instinct which apprehends evil under the apparition of beauty. this, as we shall have occasion to see, has had a controlling influence upon the ethical constitution of our nature. but it is at present necessary to observe that the primitive science generally reversed the induction of our later philosophy; for where an evil or pain was discovered in anything, it concluded that such was its raison d'être, and its attractive qualities were simply a demon's treacherous bait. however, here are the first stimulants to self-control in the lessons that taught distrust of appearances. because many a pilgrim perished through a confidence in the lake-pictures of the mirage which led to carelessness about economising his skin of water, the mirage gained its present name--bahr sheitan, or devil's water. the 'will o' wisp,' which appeared to promise the night-wanderer warmth or guidance, but led him into a bog, had its excellent directions as to the place to avoid perverted by an unhappy misunderstanding into a wilful falsehood, and has been branded ignis fatuus. most of the mimicries in nature gradually became as suspicious to the primitive observer as aliases to a magistrate. the thing that seemed to be fire, or water, but was not; the insect or animal which took its hue or form from some other, from the leaf-spotted or stem-striped cats to that innocent insect whose vegetal disguise has gained for it the familiar name of 'devil's walking-stick;' the humanlike hiss, laugh, or cry of animals; the vibratory sound or movement which so often is felt as if near when it really is far; the sand which seems hard but sinks; the sward which proves a bog;--all these have their representation in the demonology of delusion. the coroados of brazil says that the evil one 'sometimes transforms (himself) into a swamp, &c., leads him astray, vexes him, brings him into danger, and even kills him.' [ ] it is like an echo of burton's account. 'terrestrial devils are those lares, genii, faunes, satyrs, wood-nymphs, foliots, fairies, robin good-fellows, trulli, &c., which, as they are most conversant with men, so they do them most harm. these are they that dance on heaths and greens, as lavater thinks with trithemius, and, as olaus magnus adds, leave that green circle which we commonly find in plain fields. they are sometimes seen by old women and children. hieron. pauli, in his description of the city of bercino, spain, relates how they have been familiarly seen near that town, about fountains and hills. 'sometimes,' saith trithemius, 'they lead simple people into the recesses of mountains and show them wonderful sights,' &c. giraldus cambrensis gives an instance of a monk of wales that was so deluded. paracelsus reckons up many places in germany where they do usually walk about in little coats, some two feet long. [ ] real dangers beset the woods and mountain passes, the swamp and quicksand; in such forms did they haunt the untamed jungles of imagination! over that sea on which maya stands extends the silvery wand of glamour. it descended to the immortal old man of the sea, favourite of the nymphs, oracle of the coasts, patron of fishermen, friend of proteus, who could see through all the sea's depths and assume all shapes. how many witcheries could proceed from the many-tinted sea to affect the eyes and enable them to see triton with his wreathed horn, and mermaids combing their hair, and marine monsters, and aphrodite poised on the white foam! glaucoma it may be to the physicians; but glaucus it is in the scheme of maya, who has never left land or sea without her witness. beside the polar sea a samoyed sailor, asked by castrén 'where is num' (i.e., jumala, his god), pointed to the dark distant sea, and said, he is there. to the ancients there were two seas,--the azure above, and that beneath. the imaginative child in its development passes all those dreamy coasts; sees in clouds mountains of snow on the horizon, and in the sunset luminous seas laving golden isles. when as yet to the young world the shining sun was berchta, the white fleecy clouds were her swans. when she descended to the sea, as a thousand stories related, it was to repeat the course of the sun for all tribes looking on a westward sea. no one who has read that charming little book, 'the gods in exile,' [ ] will wonder at the happy instinct of learning shown in heine's little poem, 'sonnenuntergang,' [ ] wherein we see shining solar beauty compelled to become the spinning housewife, or reluctant spouse of poseidon:-- a lovely dame whom the old ocean-god for convenience once had married; and in the day-time she wanders gaily through the high heaven, purple-arrayed, and all in diamonds gleaming, and all beloved, and all amazing to every worldly being, and every worldly being rejoicing with warmth and splendour from her glances. alas! at evening, sad and unwilling, back must she bend her slow steps to the dripping house, to the barren embrace of grisly old age. this of course is heinesque, and has no relation to any legend of bertha, but is a fair specimen of mythology in the making, and is quite in the spirit of many of the myths that have flitted around sunset on the sea. whatever the explanation of their descent, the shining one and her fleecy retinue were transformed. when to sea or lake came berchta (or perchta), it was as bertha of the large foot (i.e., webbed), or of the long nose (beak), and her troop were swan-maidens. their celestial character was changed with that of their mistress. they became familiars of sorcerers and sorceresses. to 'wear yellow slippers' became the designation of a witch. how did these fleecy white cloud-phantoms become demonised? what connection is there between them and the enticing lorelei and the dangerous rhine-daughters watching over golden treasures, once, perhaps, metaphors of moonlight ripples? they who have listened to the wild laughter of these in wagner's opera, das rheingold, and their weird 'heiayaheia!' can hardly fail to suspect that they became associated with the real human nymphs whom the summer sun still finds freely sporting in the bright streams of russia, hungary, austria, and east germany, naked and not ashamed. many a warning voice against these careless phrynes, who may have left tattered raiment on the shore to be transfigured in the silvery waves, must have gone forth from priests and anxious mothers. nor would there be wanting traditions enough to impress such warnings. few regions have been without such stories as those which the traveller hiouen-thsang ( th century) found in buddhist chronicles of the rakshasis of ceylon. 'they waylay the merchants who land in the isle, and, changing themselves to women of great beauty, come before them with fragrant flowers and music; attracting them with kind words to the town of iron, they offer them a feast, and give themselves up to pleasure with them; then shut them in an iron prison, and eat them one after the other.' there is a strong accent of human nature in the usual plot of the swan-maiden legend, her garments stolen while she bathes, and her willingness to pay wondrous prices for them--since they are her feathers and her swanhood, without which she must remain for ever captive of the thief. the stories are told in regions so widely sundered, and their minor details are so different, that we may at any rate be certain that they are not all traceable solely to fleecy clouds. sometimes the garments of the demoness--and these beings are always feminine--are not feathery, as in the german stories, but seal-skins, or of nondescript red tissue. thus, the envoy li ting-yuan ( ) records a chinese legend of a man named ming-ling-tzu, a poor and worthy farmer without family, who, on going to draw water from a spring near his house, saw a woman bathing in it. she had hung her clothes on a pine tree, and, in punishment for her 'shameless ways' and for her fouling the well, he carried off the dress. the clothing was unlike the familiar lewchewan in style, and 'of a ruddy sunset colour.' the woman, having finished her bath, cried out in great anger, 'what thief has been here in broad day? bring back my clothes, quick.' she then perceived ming-ling-tzu, and threw herself on the ground before him. he began to scold her, and asked why she came and fouled his water; to which she replied that both the pine tree and the well were made by the creator for the use of all. the farmer entered into conversation with her, and pointed out that fate evidently intended her to be his wife, as he absolutely refused to give up her clothes, while without them she could not get away. the result was that they were married. she lived with him for ten years, and bore him a son and a daughter. at the end of that time her fate was fulfilled: she ascended a tree during the absence of her husband, and having bidden his children farewell, glided off on a cloud and disappeared. [ ] in south africa a parallel myth, in its demonological aspect, bears no trace of a cloud origin. in this case a hottentot, travelling with a bushwoman and her child, met a troop of wild horses. they were all hungry; and the woman, taking off a petticoat made of human skin, was instantly changed into a lioness. she struck down a horse, and lapped its blood; then, at the request of the hottentot, who in his terror had climbed a tree, she resumed her petticoat and womanhood, and the friends, after a meal of horseflesh, resumed their journey. [ ] among the minussinian tartars these demons partake of the nature of the greek harpies; they are bloodthirsty vampyre-demons who drink the blood of men slain in battle, darken the air in their flight, and house themselves in one great black fiend. [ ] as we go east the portrait of the swan-maiden becomes less dark, and she is not associated with the sea or the under-world. such is one among the malays, related by mr. tylor. in the island of celebes it is said that seven nymphs came down from the sky to bathe, and were seen by kasimbaha, who at first thought them white doves, but in the bath perceived they were women. he stole the robe of one of them, utahagi, and as she could not fly without it, she became his wife and bare him a son. she was called utahagi because of a single magic white hair she had; this her husband pulled out, when immediately a storm arose, and she flew to heaven. the child was in great grief, and the husband cast about how he should follow her up into the sky. the swan-maiden appears somewhat in the character of a nemesis in a siberian myth told by mr. baring-gould. a certain samoyed who had stolen a swan-maiden's robe, refused to return it unless she secured for him the heart of seven demon robbers, one of whom had killed the samoyed's mother. the robbers were in the habit of hanging up their hearts on pegs in their tent. the swan-maiden procured them. the samoyed smashed six of the hearts; made the seventh robber resuscitate his mother, whose soul, kept in a purse, had only to be shaken over the old woman's grave for that feat to be accomplished, and the swan-maiden got back her plumage and flew away rejoicing. [ ] in slavonic folklore the swan-maiden is generally of a dangerous character, and if a swan is killed they are careful not to show it to children for fear they will die. when they appear as ducks, geese, and other water-fowl, they are apt to be more mischievous than when they come as pigeons; and it is deemed perilous to kill a pigeon, as among sailors it was once held to kill an albatross. afanasief relates a legend which shows that, even when associated with the water-king, the tsar morskoi or slavonic neptune, the pigeon preserves its beneficent character. a king out hunting lies down to drink from a lake (as in the story related on p. ), when tsar morskoi seizes him by the beard, and will not release him until he agrees to give him his infant son. the infant prince, deserted on the edge of the fatal lake, by advice of a sorceress hides in some bushes, whence he presently sees twelve pigeons arrive, which, having thrown off their feathers, disport themselves in the lake. at length a thirteenth, more beautiful than the rest, arrives, and her sorochka (shift) ivan seizes. to recover it she agrees to be his wife, and, having told him he will find her beneath the waters, resumes her pigeon-shape and flies away. beneath the lake he finds a beautiful realm, and though the tsar morskoi treats him roughly and imposes heavy tasks on him, the pigeon-maiden (vassilissa) assists him, and they dwell together happily. [ ] in norse mythology the vesture of the uncanny maid is oftenest a seal-skin, and a vein of pathos enters the legends. of the many legends of this kind, still believed in sweden and norway, one has been pleasantly versified by miss eliza keary. a fisherman having found a pretty white seal-skin, took it home with him. at night there was a wailing at his door; the maid enters, becomes his wife, and bears him three children. but after seven years she finds the skin, and with it ran to the shore. the eldest child tells the story to the father on his return home. then we three, daddy, ran after, crying, 'take us to the sea! wait for us, mammy, we are coming too! here's alice, willie can't keep up with you! mammy, stop--just for a minute or two!' at last we came to where the hill slopes straight down to the beach, and there we stood all breathless, still fast clinging each to each. we saw her sitting upon a stone, putting the little seal-skin on. o mammy! mammy! she never said goodbye, daddy, she didn't kiss us three; she just put the little seal-skin on and slipt into the sea! some of the legends of this character are nearly as realistic as mr. swinburne's 'morality' of david and bathsheba. to imagine the scarcity of wives in regions to which the primitive aryan race migrated, we have only to remember the ben trovato story of californians holding a ball in honour of a bonnet, in the days before women had followed them in migration. to steal bathsheba's clothes, and so capture her, might at one period have been sufficiently common in europe to require all the terrors contained in the armoury of tradition concerning the demonesses that might so be taken in, and might so tempt men to take them in. in the end they might disappear, carrying off treasures in the most prosaic fashion, or perhaps they might bring to one's doors a small trojan war. it is probable that the sentiment of modesty, so far as it is represented in the shame of nudity, was the result of prudential agencies. though the dread of nudity has become in some regions a superstition in the female mind strong enough to have its martyrs--as was seen at the sinking of the northfleet and the burning hotel in st. louis--it is one that has been fostered by men in distrust of their own animalism. in barbarous regions, where civilisation introduces clothes, the women are generally the last to adopt them; and though mr. herbert spencer attributes this to female conservatism, it appears more probable that it is because the men are the first to lose their innocence and the women last to receive anything expensive. it is noticeable how generally the swan-maidens are said in the myths to be captured by violence or stratagem. at the same time the most unconscious temptress might be the means of breaking up homes and misleading workmen, and thus become invested with all the wild legends told of the illusory phenomena of nature in popular mythology. it is marvellous to observe how all the insinuations of the bane were followed by equal dexterities in the antedote. the fair tempters might disguise their intent in an appeal to the wayfarer's humanity; and, behold, there were a thousand well-attested narratives ready for the lips of wife and mother showing the demoness appealing for succour to be fatalest of all! there is a stone on the müggelsberger, in altmark, which is said to cover a treasure; this stone is sometimes called 'devil's altar,' and sometimes it is said a fire is seen there which disappears when approached. it lies on the verge of teufelsee,--a lake dark and small, and believed to be fathomless. where the stone lies a castle once stood which sank into the ground with its fair princess. but from the underground castle there is a subterranean avenue to a neighbouring hill, and from this hill of an evening sometimes comes an old woman, bent over her staff. next day there will be seen a most beautiful lady combing her long golden hair. to all who pass she makes her entreaties that they will set her free, her pathetic appeals being backed by offer of a jewelled casket which she holds. the only means of liberating her is, she announces, that some one shall bear her on his shoulders three times round teufelsee church without looking back. the experiment has several times been made. one villager at his first round saw a large hay-waggon drawn past him by four mice, and following it with his eyes received blows on the ears. another saw a waggon drawn by four coal-black fire-breathing horses coming straight against him, started back, and all disappeared with the cry 'lost again for ever!' a third tried and almost got through. he was found senseless, and on recovering related that when he took the princess on his shoulders she was light as a feather, but she grew heavier and heavier as he bore her round. snakes, toads, and all horrible animals with fiery eyes surrounded him; dwarfs hurled blocks of wood and stones at him; yet he did not look back, and had nearly completed the third round, when he saw his village burst into flames; then he looked behind--a blow felled him--and he seems to have only lived long enough to tell this story. the youth of köpernick are warned to steel their hearts against any fair maid combing her hair near teufelsee. but the folklore of the same neighbourhood admits that it is by no means so dangerous for dames to listen to appeals of this kind. in the gohlitzsee, for example, a midwife was induced to plunge in response to a call for aid; having aided a little merwoman in travail, she was given an apronful of dust, which appeared odd until on shore it proved to be many thalers. in countries where the popular imagination, instead of being scientific, is trained to be religiously retrospective, it relapses at the slightest touch into the infantine speculations of the human race. not long ago, standing at a shop-window in ostend where a 'japanese siren' was on view, the clever imposture interested me less than the comments of the passing and pausing observers. the most frequent wonders seriously expressed were, whether she sang, or combed her hair, or was under a doom, or had a soul to be saved. every question related to circe, ulysses and the sirens, and other conceptions of antiquity. the japanese artists rightly concluded they could float their siren in any intellectual waters where jonah in his whale could pass, or a fish appear with its penny. nay, even in their primitive form the sirens find their kith and kin still haunting all the coasts of northern europe. a type of the irish and scottish siren may be found in the very complete legend of one seen by john reid, shipmaster of cromarty. with long flowing yellow hair she sat half on a rock, half in water, nude and beautiful, half woman half fish, and john managed to catch and hold her tight till she had promised to fulfil three wishes; then, released, she sprang into the sea. the wishes were all fulfilled, and to one of them (though john would never reveal it) the good-luck of the reids was for a century after ascribed. [ ] the scene of this legend is the 'dropping cave,' and significantly near the lover's leap. one of john's wishes included the success of his courtship. these caves run parallel with that of venusberg, where the minstrel tannhäuser is tempted by venus and her nymphs. heine finishes off his description of this frau venus by saying he fancied he met her one day in the place bréda. 'what do you take this lady to be?' asked he of balzac, who was with him. 'she is a mistress,' replied balzac. 'a duchess rather,' returned heine. but the friends found on further explanation that they were both quite right. venus' doves, soiled for a time, were spiritualised at last and made white, while the snowy swan grew darker. an old german word for swan, elbiz, originally denoting its whiteness (albus), furthered its connection with all 'elfish' beings--elf being from the same word, meaning white; but, as in goethe's 'erl könig,' often disguising a dark character. the swan and the pigeon meet (with some modifications) as symbols of the good and evil powers in the legend of lohengrin. the witch transforms the boy into a swan, which, however, draws to save his sister, falsely accused of his murder, the knight of the sangreal, who, when the mystery of his holy name is inquired into by his too curious bride, is borne away by white doves. these legends all bear in them, however faintly, the accent of the early conflict of religion with the wild passions of mankind. their religious bearings bring us to inquiries which must be considered at a later phase of our work. but apart from purely moral considerations, it is evident that there must have been practical dangers surrounding the early social chaos amid which the first immigrants in europe found themselves. although the legend of lady godiva includes elements of another origin, it is probable that in the fate of peeping tom there is a distant reflection of the punishment sometimes said to overtake those who gazed too curiously upon the swan-maiden without her feathers. the devotion of the nude lady of coventry would not be out of keeping with one class of these mermaiden myths. there is a superstition, now particularly strong in iceland, that all fairies are children of eve, whom she hid away on an occasion when the lord came to visit her, because they were not washed and presentable. so he condemned them to be for ever invisible. this superstition seems to be related to an old debate whether these præternatural beings are the children of adam and eve or not. a scotch story bears against that conclusion. a beautiful nymph, with a slight robe of green, came from the sea and approached a fisherman while he was reading his bible. she asked him if it contained any promise of mercy for her. he replied that it contained an offer of salvation to 'all the children of adam;' whereupon with a loud shriek she dashed into the sea again. euphemism would co-operate with natural compassion in saying a good word for 'the good little people,' whether hiding in earth or sea. in altmark, 'will-o'-wisps' are believed to be the souls of unbaptized children--sometimes of lunatics--unable to rest in their graves; they are called 'light-men,' and it is said that though they may sometimes mislead they often guide rightly, especially if a small coin be thrown them,--this being also an african plan of breaking a sorcerer's spell. christianity long after its advent in germany had to contend seriously with customs and beliefs found in some lakeside villages where the fishermen regarded themselves as in friendly relations with the præternatural guardians of the waters, and unto this day speak of their presiding sea-maiden as a holy fräulein. they hear her bells chiming up from the depths in holy seasons to mingle with those whose sounds are wafted from church towers; and it seems to have required many fables, told by prints of fishermen found sitting lifeless on their boats while listening to them, to gradually transfer reverence to the new christian fairy. it may be they heard some such melody as that which has found its finest expression in mr. matthew arnold's 'forsaken merman:'-- children dear, was it yesterday (call yet once) that she went away? once she sate with you and me, on a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, and the youngest sate on her knee. she comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, when down swung the sound of the far-off bell. she sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; she said: 'i must go, for my kinsfolk pray in the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'twill be easter-time in the world--ah me! and i lose my poor soul, merman, here with thee.' i said, 'go up, dear heart, through the waves, say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.' she smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay. children dear, was it yesterday? perhaps we should find the antecedents of this merman's lost margaret, whom he called back in vain, in the danish ballad of 'the merman and the marstig's daughter,' who, in goethe's version, sought the winsome may in church, thither riding as a gay knight on horse of the water clear, the saddle and bridle of sea-sand were. they went from the church with the bridal train, they danced in glee, and they danced full fain; they danced them down to the salt-sea strand, and they left them standing there, hand in hand. 'now wait thee, love, with my steed so free, and the bonniest bark i'll bring for thee.' and when they passed to the white, white sand, the ships came sailing on to the land; but when they were out in the midst of the sound, down went they all in the deep profound! long, long on the shore, when the winds were high, they heard from the waters the maiden's cry. i rede ye, damsels, as best i can-- tread not the dance with the water-man! according to other legends, however, the realm under-sea was not a place for weeping. child-eyes beheld all that the erl-king promised, in goethe's ballad-- wilt thou go, bonny boy? wilt thou go with me? my daughters shall wait on thee daintily; my daughters around thee in dance shall sweep, and rock thee and kiss thee, and sing thee to sleep! or perhaps child-eyes, lingering in the burning glow of manhood's passion, might see in the peaceful sea some picture of lost love like that so sweetly described in heine's 'sea phantom:'-- but i still leaned o'er the side of the vessel, gazing with sad-dreaming glances down at the water, clear as a mirror, looking yet deeper and deeper,-- till far in the sea's abysses, at first like dim wavering vapours, then slowly--slowly--deeper in colour, domes of churches and towers seemed rising, and then, as clear as day, a city grand.... infinite longing, wondrous sorrow, steal through my heart,-- my heart as yet scarce healed; it seems as though its wounds, forgotten, by loving lips again were kissed, and once again were bleeding drops of burning crimson, which long and slowly trickle down upon an ancient house below there in the deep, deep sea-town, on an ancient, high-roofed, curious house, where, lone and melancholy, below by the window a maiden sits, her head on her arm reclined,-- like a poor and uncared-for child; and i know thee, thou poor and long-sorrowing child! ... i meanwhile, my spirit all grief, over the whole broad world have sought thee, and ever have sought thee, thou dearly beloved, thou long, long lost one, thou finally found one,-- at last i have found thee, and now am gazing upon thy sweet face, with earnest, faithful glances, still sweetly smiling; and never will i again on earth leave thee. i am coming adown to thee, and with longing, wide-reaching embraces, love, i leap down to thy heart! the temptations of fishermen to secure objects seen at the bottom of transparent lakes, sometimes appearing like boxes or lumps of gold, and even more reflections of objects in the upper world or air, must have been sources of danger; there are many tales of their being so beguiled to destruction. these things were believed treasures of the little folk who live under water, and would not part with them except on payment. in blumenthal lake, 'tis said, there is an iron-bound yellow coffer which fishermen often have tried to raise, but their cords are cut as it nears the surface. at the bottom of the same lake valuable clothing is seen, and a woman who once tried to secure it was so nearly drowned that it is thought safer to leave it. the legends of sunken towns (as in lake paarsteinchen and lough neagh), and bells (whose chimes may be heard on certain sacred days), are probably variants of this class of delusions. they are often said to have been sunk by some final vindictive stroke of a magician or witch resolved to destroy the city no longer trusting them. landslides, engulfing seaside homes, might originate legends like that of king gradlon's daughter dahut, whom the breton peasant sees in rough weather on rocks around poul-dahut, where she unlocked the sluice-gates on the city is in obedience to her fiend-lover. if it be remembered that less than fifty years ago dr. belon [ ] thought it desirable to anatomise gold fishes, and prove in various ways that it is a fallacy to suppose they feed on pure gold (as many a peasant near lyons declares of the laurets sold daily in the market), it will hardly be thought wonderful that perilous visions of precious things were seen by early fishermen in pellucid depths, and that these should at last be regarded as seductive arts of lorelei, who have given many lakes and rivers the reputation of requiring one or more annual victims. possibly it was through accumulation of many dreams about beautiful realms beneath the sea or above the clouds that suicide became among the norse folk so common. it was a proverb that the worst end was to die in bed, and to die by suicide was to be like egil, and omund, and king hake, like nearly all the heroes who so passed to valhalla. the northman had no doubt concerning the paradise to which he was going, and did not wish to reach it enfeebled by age. but the time would come when the earth and human affection must assert their claims, and the watery tribes be pictured as cruel devourers of the living. even so would the wood-nymphs and mountain-nymphs be degraded, and fearful legends of those lost and wandering in dark forests be repeated to shuddering childhood. the actual dangers would mask themselves in the endless disguises of illusion, the wold and wave be peopled with cruel and treacherous seducers. thus suicide might gradually lose its charms, and a dismal underworld of heartless gnomes replace the grottoes and fairies. we may close this chapter with a scottish legend relating to the 'shi'ichs,' or men of peace, in which there is a strange intimation of a human mind dreaming that it dreams, and so far on its way to waking. a woman was carried away by these shadowy beings in order that she might suckle her child which they had previously stolen. during her retention she once observed the shi'ichs anointing their eyes from a caldron, and seizing an opportunity, she managed to anoint one of her own eyes with the ointment. with that one eye she now saw the secret abode and all in it 'as they really were.' the deceptive splendour had vanished. the gaudy ornaments of a fairy grot had become the naked walls of a gloomy cavern. when this woman had returned to live among human beings again, her anointed eye saw much that others saw not; among other things she once saw a 'man of peace,' invisible to others, and asked him about her child. astonished at being recognised, he demanded how she had been able to discover him; and when she had confessed, he spit in her eye and extinguished it for ever. chapter x. darkness. shadows--night deities--kobolds--walpurgisnacht--night as abettor of evil-doers--nightmare--dreams--invisible foes--jacob and his phantom--nott--the prince of darkness--the brood of midnight--second-sight--spectres of souter fell--the moonshine vampyre--glamour--glam and grettir--a story of dartmoor. from the little night which clings to man even by day--his own shadow--to the world's great shade of darkness, innumerable are the coverts from which have emerged the black procession of phantoms which have haunted the slumbers of the world, and betrayed the enterprise of man. how strange to the first man seemed that shadow walking beside him, from the time when he saw it as a ghost tracking its steps and giving him his name for a ghost, on to the period in which it seemed the emanation of an occult power, as to them who brought their sick into the streets to be healed by the passing shadow of peter; and still on to the day when beaumont wrote-- our acts our angels are, or good or ill, our fatal shadows that walk by us still; or that in which goethe found therein the mystical symbol of the inward arrest of our moral development, and said 'no man can jump off of his shadow.' and then from the culture of europe we pass to the feejee-islanders, and find them believing that every man has two spirits. one is his shadow, which goes to hades; the other is his image as reflected in water, and it is supposed to stay near the place where the man dies. [ ] but, like the giants of the brocken, these demons of the shadow are trembled at long after they are known to be the tremblers themselves mirrored on air. have we not priests in england still fostering the belief that the baptized child goes attended by a white spirit, the unbaptized by a dark one? why then need we apologise for the fijians? but little need be said here of demons of the dark, for they are closely related to the phantasms of delusion, of winter, and others already described. yet have they distinctive characters. as many as were the sunbeams were the shadows; every goddess of the dawn (ushas) cast her shadow; every day was swallowed up by night. this is the cavern where hide the treacherous panis (fog) in vedic mythology, they who steal and hide indra's cows; this is the realm of hades (the invisible); this is the cavern of the hag thökk (dark) in scandinavian mythology,--she who alone of all in the universe refused to weep for baldur when he was shut up in helheim, where he had been sent by the dart of his blind brother hödr (darkness). in the cavern of night sleep the seven sleepers of ephesus, and barbarossa, and all slumbering phantoms whose genius is the night-winged raven. thorr, the norse hercules, once tried to lift a cat--as it seemed to him--from the ground; but it was the great mid-earth serpent which encircles the whole earth. impossible feat as it was for thorr--who got only one paw of the seeming cat off the ground--in that glassless and gasless era, invention has accomplished much in that direction; but the black cat is still domiciled securely among idols of the mental cave. there is an anglo-saxon word, cof-godas (lit. cove-gods), employed as the equivalent of the latin lares (the penates, too, are interpreted as cof-godu, cofa signifying the inner recess of a house, penetrale). the word in german corresponding to this cofa, is koben; and from this hildebrand conjectures kob-old to be derived. the latter part of the word he supposes to be walt (one who 'presides over,' e.g., walter); so that the original form would be kob-walt. [ ] here, then, in the recesses of the household, among the least enlightened of its members--the menials, who still often neutralise the efforts of rational people to dispel the delusions of their children--the discredited deities and demons of the past found refuge, and through a little baptismal change of names are familiars of millions unto this day. in the words of the ancient hebrew, 'they lay in their own houses prisoners of darkness, fettered with the bonds of a long night.' 'no power of the fire might give them light, neither could the bright flames of the stars lighten that horrible night.' [ ] well is it added, 'fear is nothing else but a betraying of the succours which reason offereth,' a truth which finds ample illustration in the kobolds. these imaginary beings were naturally associated with the dark recesses of mines. there they gave the name to our metal cobalt. the value of cobalt was not understood until the th century, and the metal was first obtained by the swedish chemist brandt in . the miners had believed that the silver was stolen away by kobolds, and these 'worthless' ores left in its place. nickel had the like history, and is named after old nick. so long did those beauties slumber in the cavern of ignorance till science kissed them with its sunbeam, and led them forth to decorate the world! how passed this (mental) cave-dweller even amid the upper splendours and vastnesses of his unlit world? a faust guided by his mephistopheles only amid interminable hartz labyrinths. how sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, the moon's lone disk, with its belated glow, and lights so dimly, that, as one advances, at every step one strikes a rock or tree! let us then use a jack-o'-lantern's glances: i see one yonder, burning merrily. ho, there! my friend! i'll levy thine attendance: why waste so vainly thy resplendence? be kind enough to light us up the steep! tell me, if we still are standing, or if further we're ascending? all is turning, whirling, blending, trees and rocks with grinning faces, wandering lights that spin in mazes, still increasing and expanding. [ ] it could only have been at a comparatively late period of social development that sancho's benediction on the inventor of sleep could have found general response. the red indian found its helplessness fatal when the 'nick of the woods' was abroad; the scotch sailor found in it a demon's opiate when the 'nigg of the sea' was gathering his storms above the sleeping watchman. it was among the problems of job, the coöperation of darkness with evil-doers. the eye of the adulterer waiteth for the twilight; he saith, no eye will see me, and putteth a mask upon his face. in the dark men break into houses; in the day-time they shut themselves up; they are strangers to the light. the morning to them is the shadow of death; they are familiar with the dark terrors of midnight. besides this fact that the night befriends and masks every treacherous foe, it is also to be remembered that man is weakest at night. not only is he weaker than by day in the veil drawn over his senses, but physiologically also. when the body is wearied out by the toils or combats of the day, and the mind haunted by dreams of danger, there are present all the terrors which byron portrays around the restless pillow of sardanapalus. the war-horse of the day becomes a night-mare in the darkness. in the heimskringla it is recorded: 'vanland, svegdir's son, succeeded his father and ruled over the upsal domain. he was a great warrior, and went far around in different lands. once he took up his winter abode in finland with snio the old, and got his daughter drisa in marriage; but in spring he set out leaving drisa behind, and although he had promised to return within three years he did not come back for ten. then drisa sent a message to the witch hulda; and sent visbur, her son by vanland, to sweden. drisa bribed the witch-wife hulda, either that she should bewitch vanland to return to finland or kill him. when this witch-work was going on vanland was at upsal, and a great desire came over him to go to finland, but his friends and counsellors advised him against it, and said the witchcraft of the fin people showed itself in this desire of his to go there. he then became very drowsy, and laid himself down to sleep; but when he had slept but a little while he cried out, saying, 'mara was treading on him.' his men hastened to help him; but when they took hold of his head she trod on his legs, and when they laid hold of his legs she pressed upon his head; and it was his death.' [ ] this witch is, no doubt, hildur, a walkyr of the edda, leading heroes to walhalla. indeed, in westphalia, nightmare is called walriderske. it is a curious fact that 'mara' should be preserved in the french word for nightmare, cauche-mar, 'cauche' being from latin calcare, to tread. through teutonic folklore this night-demon of many names, having floated from england in a sieve paddled with cow-ribs, rides to the distress of an increasingly unheroic part of the population. nearly always still the 'mahrt' is said to be a pretty woman,--sometimes, indeed, a sweetheart is involuntarily transformed to one,--every rustic settlement abounding with tales of how the demoness has been captured by stopping the keyhole, calling the ridden sleeper by his baptismal name, and making the sign of the cross; by such process the wicked beauty appears in human form, and is apt to marry the sleeper, with usually evil results. the fondness of cats for getting on the breasts of sleepers, or near their breath, for warmth, has made that animal a common form of the 'mahrt.' sometimes it is a black fly with red ring around its neck. this demoness is believed to suffer more pain than it inflicts, and vainly endeavours to destroy herself. in savage and nomadic times sound sleep being an element of danger, the security which required men to sleep on their arms demanded also that they should sleep as it were with one eye open. thus there might have arisen both the intense vividness which demons acquired by blending subjective and objective impressions, and the curious inability, so frequent among barbarians and not unknown among the men civilised, to distinguish dream from fact. the habit of day-dreaming seems, indeed, more general than is usually supposed. dreams haunt all the region of our intellectual twilight,--the borderland of mystery, where rise the sources of the occult and the mystical which environ our lives. the daily terrors of barbarous life avail to haunt the nerves of civilised people, now many generations after they have passed away, with special and irrational shudders at certain objects or noises: how then must they have haunted the dreams of humanity when, like the daughter of nathan the wise, rescued from flames, it passed the intervals of strife with nerves unstrung through fear, and fire and flame in all she sees or fancies; her soul awake in sleep, asleep when wide awake? among the sources of demoniac beliefs few indeed are more prolific than dreams. 'the witchcraft of sleep,' says emerson, 'divides with truth the empire of our lives. this soft enchantress visits two children lying locked in each other's arms, and carries them asunder by wide spans of land and sea, wide intervals of time. 'tis superfluous to think of the dreams of multitudes; the astonishment remains that one should dream; that we should resign so quietly this deifying reason and become the theatre of delusions, shows, wherein time, space, persons, cities, animals, should dance before us in merry and mad confusion, a delicate creation outdoing the prime and flower of actual nature, antic comedy alternating with horrid spectres. or we seem busied for hours and days in peregrinations over seas and lands, in earnest dialogues, strenuous actions for nothings and absurdities, cheated by spectral jokes, and waking suddenly with ghostly laughter, to be rebuked by the cold lonely silent midnight, and to rake with confusion in memory among the gibbering nonsense to find the motive of this contemptible cachinnation.' [ ] it has always been the worst of periods of religious excitement that they shape the dreams of old and young, and find there a fearful and distorted, but vivid and realistic, embodiment of their feverish experiences. in the days of witchcraft thousands visited the witches' sabbaths, as they believed and danced in the walpurgis orgies, borne (by hereditary orthodox canon) on their own brooms up their own chimneys; and to-day, by the same morbid imaginations, the victims are able to see themselves or others elongated, levitated, floating through the air. if people only knew how few are ever really wide-awake, these spiritual nightmares would soon reach their termination. the natural terrors before which helpless man once cowered, have been prolonged past all his real victories over his demons by a succession of such nightmares, so that the vulgar religion might be portrayed somewhat as richard wagner described his first tragedy, in which, having killed off forty-two of his characters, he had to bring them back as ghosts to carry on the fifth act! the perils of darkness, as ambush of foes human and animal, concealer of pitfalls, misguider of footsteps, misdirector of aims, were more real than men can well imagine in an age of gaslight plus the policeman. the myth of joshua commanding the sun to stand still; the cry of ajax when darkness fell on the combat, 'grant me but to see!' refer us to the region from which come all childish shudders at going into the dark. the limit of human courage is reached where its foe is beyond the reach of its force. fighting in the dark may even be suicidal. a german fable of blindfold zeal--the awakened sleeper demolishing his furniture and knocking out his own teeth in the attempt to punish cats--has its tragical illustrations also. but none of these actual dangers have been of more real evil to man than the demonisation of them. this rendered his very skill a blunder, his energy weakness. if it was bad to retreat in the dusk from an innocent bush into an unrecognised well, it was worse to meet the ghost with rune or crucifix and find it an assassin. when man fights with his shadow, he instantly makes it the demon he fears; ghoul-like it preys upon his paralysed strength, vampyre-like it sucks his blood, and he is consigned disarmed to the evil that is no shadow. the scottish sinclair marching through norway, in the th century, owes his monument at wiblungen rather to the magpie believed to precede him as a spy, with night and day upon its wings, than to his own prowess or power. in a sense all demons, whatever their shapes, are the ancient brood of night. mental darkness, even more moral darkness within, supply the phantasmagoria in which unknown things shape themselves as demons. esau is already reconciled, but guilty jacob must still wrestle with him as a phantom of fear till daybreak. a work has already been written on 'the night-side of nature,' but it would require many volumes to tell the story of what monsters have been conjured out of the kind protecting darkness. how great is the darkness which man makes for himself out of the imagination which should be his light and vision! much of the so-called 'religion' of our time is but elaborate demoniculture and artificial preservation of mental walpurgis-nights. nott (night) says the edda rides first on her horse called hrimfaxi (frost-maned), which every morning as he ends his course bedews the earth with the foam that falls from his bit. though the horse of day--skinfaxi, or shining-mane--follows hard after her, yet the foam is by no means drunk up by his fires. foam of the old phantasms still lingers in our mediæval liturgies, and even falls afresh where the daylight is shut out that altar-candles may burn, or for other dark seances are prepared the conditions necessary for whatsoever loves not the light. what we call the dark ages were indeed spiritually a perpetual seance with lights lowered. nay, human superstition was able to turn the very moon and stars into mere bluish night-tapers, giving just light enough to make the darkness visible in fantastic shapes fluttering around the prince of darkness,--or non-existence in chief! how much of the theosophic speculation of our time is the mere artificial conservation of that darkness? how much that still flits bat-winged from universities, will, in the future, be read with the same wonder as that with which even the more respectable bats can now read account of the midnight brood which now for the most part sleep tranquilly in such books as burton's 'anatomy of melancholy'? 'there are,' he says, 'certain spirits which miraldus calls ambulones, that walk about midnight on great heaths and desert places, which (saith lavater) draw men out of their way, and lead them all night by a byway, or quite bar them of their way. these have several names in several places. we commonly call them pucks. in the deserts of lop, in asia, such illusions of walking spirits are often perceived, as you may read in m. paulus, the venetian, his travels. if one lose his company by chance, these devils will call him by his name, and counterfeit voices of his companions to seduce him. lavater and cicogna have a variety of examples of spirits and walking devils in this kind. sometimes they sit by the wayside to give men falls, and make their horses stumble and start as they ride (according to the narration of that holy man ketellus in nubrigensis, that had an especial grace to see devils); and if a man curse and spur his horse for stumbling, they do heartily rejoice at it.' while observing a spirited and imaginative picture by macallum of the siege of jerusalem, it much interested me to observe the greater or less ease with which other visitors discovered the portents in the air which, following the narrative of josephus, the artist had vaguely portrayed. the chariots and horsemen said to have been seen before that event were here faintly blent with indefinite outlines of clouds; and while some of the artist's friends saw them with a distinctness greater, perhaps, than that with which they impressed the eye of the artist himself, others could hardly be made to see anything except shapeless vapour, though of course they all agreed that they were there and remarkably fine. it would seem that thus, in a london studio, there were present all the mental pigments for frescoing the air and sky with those visions of aërial armies or huntsmen which have become so normal in history as to be, in a subjective sense, natural. in the year , an author, styling himself theophilus insulanus, published at edinburgh a book on second-sight, in which he related more than a hundred instances of the power he believed to exist of seeing events before they had occurred, and whilst, of course, they did not exist. it is not difficult in reading them to see that they are all substantially one and the same story, and that the sight in operation was indeed second; for man or woman, at once imaginative and illiterate, have a second and supernumerary pair of eyes inherited from the traditional superstitions and ghost stories which fill all the air they breathe from the cradle to the grave. while the mind is in this condition, that same nature whose apparitions and illusions originally evoked and fostered the glamoury, still moves on with her minglings of light and shade, cloud and mirage, giving no word of explanation. there are never wanting the shadowy forms without that cast their shuttles to the dark idols of the mental cave, together weaving subtle spells round the half-waking mind. in the year all the north of england and scotland was in alarm on account of some spectres which were seen on the mountain of souter fell in cumberland. the mountain is about half-a-mile high. on a summer evening a farmer and his servant, looking from wilton hall, half a mile off, saw the figures of a man and a dog pursuing some horses along the mountain-side, which is very steep; and on the following morning they repaired to the place, expecting to find dead bodies, but finding none. about one year later a troop of horsemen were seen riding along the same mountain-side by one of the same persons, the servant, who then called others who also saw the aërial troopers. after a year had elapsed the above vision was attested before a magistrate by two of those who saw it. the event occurred on the eve of the rebellion, when horsemen were exercising, and when also the popular mind along the border may be supposed to have been in a highly excited condition. what was seen on this strongly-authenticated occasion? was anything seen? none can tell. it is open to us to believe that there may have been some play of mirage. as there are purely aërial echoes, so are there aërial reflectors for the eye. on the other hand, the vision so nearly resembles the spectral processions which have passed through the mythology of the world, that we can never be sure that it was not the troop of king arthur, emerging from avallon to announce the approaching strife. a few fleecy, strangely-shaped clouds, chasing each other along the hillside in the evening's dusk would have amply sufficed to create the latter vision, and the danger of the time would easily have supplied all the second-sight required to reveal it to considerable numbers. in questions of this kind a very small circumstance--a phrase, a name, perhaps--may turn the balance of probabilities. thus it may be noted that, in the instance just related, the vision was seen on the steep side of souter fell. fell means a hill or a steep rock, as in drachenfels. but as to souter, although, as mr. robert ferguson says, the word may originally have meant sheep, [ ] it is found in scotland used as 'shoemaker' in connection with the fabulous giants of that region. sir thomas urquhart, in the seventeenth century, relates it as the tradition of the two promontories of cromarty, called 'soutars,' that they were the work-stools of two giants who supplied their comrades with shoes and buskins. possessing but one set of implements, they used to fling these to each other across the opening of the firth, where the promontories are only two miles apart. in process of time the name soutar, shoemaker, was bequeathed by the craftsmen to their stools. it is not improbable that the name gradually connected itself with other places bearing traditions connecting them with the fabulous race, and that in this way the souter fell, from meaning in early times much the same as giants' hill, preserved even in - enough of the earlier uncanny associations to awaken the awe of borderers in a time of rebellion. the vision may therefore have been seen by light which had journeyed all the way from the mythologic heavens of ancient india: substantially subjective--such stuff as dreams and dreamers are made of--no doubt there were outer clouds, shapes and afterglows enough, even in the absence of any fata morgana to supply canvas and pigment to the cunning artist that hides in the eye. in an old tale, the often-slain vampyre-bat only requests, with pathos, that his body may be laid where no sunlight, but only the moonlight, will fall on it--only that! but it is under the moonshine that it always gains new life. no demon requires absolute darkness, but half-darkness, in which to live: enough light to disclose a somewhat, but not enough to define and reveal its nature, is just what has been required for the bat-eyes of fable and phantasy, which can make vampyre of a sparrow or giant out of a windmill. glamour! a marvellous history has this word of the artists and poets,--sometimes meaning the charm with which the eye invests any object; or, in wordsworth's phrase, 'the light that never was on land or sea.' but no artist or poet ever rose to the full height of the simple term itself, which well illustrates emerson's saying, 'words are fossil poetry.' professor cowell of cambridge says: 'glám, or in the nominative glámr, is also a poetical name for the moon. it does not actually occur in the ancient literature, but it is given in the glossary in the prose edda in the list of the very old words for the moon.' vigfusson in his dictionary says, 'the word is interesting on account of its identity with scot. glamour, which shows that the tale of glam was common to scotland and iceland, and this much older than grettir (in the year ).' the ghost or goblin glam seems evidently to have arisen from a personification of the delusive and treacherous effects of moonlight on the benighted traveller, quale per incertam lunam sub luce malignâ, est iter in sylvis. now, there is a curious old sanskrit word, glau or gláv, which is explained in all the old native lexicons as meaning 'the moon.' it might either be taken as 'waning,' or in a casual sense 'obscuring.' the following lines from an early mediæval poet, bhása (seventh century), will illustrate the deceptive character of moonlight from a hindu point of view. the strong and wild norse imagination delights in what is terrible and gloomy: the hindu loves to dwell on the milder and quieter aspects of human life. 'the cat laps the moonbeams in the bowl of water, thinking them to be milk: the elephant thinks that the moonbeams, threaded through the intervals of the trees, are the fibres of the lotus-stalk. the woman snatches at the moonbeams as they lie on the bed, taking them for her muslin garment: oh, how the moon, intoxicated with radiance, bewilders all the world!' a similar passage, no doubt imitated from this, is also quoted: 'the bewildered herdsmen place the pails under the cows, thinking that the milk is flowing; the maidens also put the blue lotus blossom in their ears, thinking that it is the white; the mountaineer's wife snatches up the jujube fruit, avaricious for pearls. whose mind is not led astray by the thickly clustering moonbeams?' [ ] in the icelandic legend of the struggle between the hero grettir, translated by magnússen and morris (london, ), the saga supplies a scenery as archæological as if the philologists had been consulted. 'bright moonlight was there without, and the drift was broken, now drawn over the moon, now driven off from her; and even as glam fell, a cloud was driven from the moon, and glam glared up against her.' when the hero beheld these glaring eyes of the giant ghost, he felt some fiendish craft in them, and could not draw his short sword, and 'lay well nigh 'twixt home and hell.' this half-light of the moon, which robs the strong of half his power, is repeated in glam's curse: 'exceedingly eager hast thou sought to meet me, grettir, but no wonder will it be deemed, though thou gettest no good hap of me; and this i must tell thee, that thou now hast got half the strength and manhood which was thy lot if thou hadst not met me: now i may not take from thee the strength which thou hast got before this; but that may i rule, that thou shalt never be mightier than now thou art ... therefore this weird i lay on thee, ever in those days to see these eyes with thine eyes, and thou wilt find it hard to be alone--and that shalt drag thee unto death.' the moon-demon's power is limited to the spell of illusion he can cast. presently he is laid low; the 'short sword' of a sunbeam pales, decapitates him. but after glam is burned to cold coals, and his ashes buried in skin of a beast 'where sheep-pastures were fewest, or the ways of men,' the spell lay upon the hero's eyes. 'grettir said that his temper had been nowise bettered by this, that he was worse to quiet than before, and that he deemed all trouble worse than it was; but that herein he found the greatest change, in that he was become so fearsome a man in the dark, that he durst go nowhither alone after nightfall, for then he seemed to see all kinds of horrors. and that has fallen since into a proverb, that glam lends eyes, or gives glamsight to those who see things nowise as they are.' in reading which one may wonder how this world would look if for a little moment one's eyes could be purged of glamour. even at the moon's self one tries vainly to look: where hindu and zulu see a hare, the arab sees coils of a serpent, and the englishman sees a man; and the most intelligent of these several races will find it hard to see in the moon aught save what their primitive ancestors saw. and this small hint of the degree to which the wisest, like merlin, are bound fast in an air-prison by a vivien whose spells are spun from themselves, would carry us far could we only venture to follow it out. 'the moon,' observed dr. johnson unconsciously, 'has great influence in vulgar philosophy.' how much lunar theology have we around us, so that many from the cradle to the grave get no clear sight of nature or of themselves! very closely did carlyle come to the fable of glam when speaking of coleridge's 'prophetic moonshine,' and its effect on poor john sterling. 'if the bottled moonshine beactually substance? ah, could one but believe in a church while finding it incredible!... the bereaved young lady has taken the veil then!... to such lengths can transcendental moonshine, cast by some morbidly radiating coleridge into the chaos of a fermenting life, act magically there, and produce divulsions and convulsions and diseased developments.' one can almost fancy carlyle had ringing in his memory the old scottish ballad of the rev. robert kirk, translator of the psalms into gaelic, who, while walking in his night-gown at aberfoyle, was 'snatched away to the joyless elfin bower.' it was between the night and day when the fairy-king has power. the item of the night-gown might have already prepared us for the couplet; and it has perhaps even a mystical connection with the vestment of the 'black dragoon' which sterling once saw patrolling in every parish, to whom, however, he surrendered at last. a story is told of a man wandering on a dark night over dartmoor, whose feet slipped over the edge of a pit. he caught the branch of a tree suspended over the terrible chasm, but unable to regain the ground, shrieked for help. none came, though he cried out till his voice was gone; and there he remained dangling in agony until the grey light revealed that his feet were only a few inches from the solid ground. such are the chief demons that bind man till cockcrow. such are the apprehensions that waste also the moral and intellectual strength of man, and murder his peace as he regards the necessary science of his time to be cutting some frail tenure sustaining him over a bottomless pit, instead of a release from real terror to the solid ground. chapter xi. disease. the plague phantom--devil-dances--destroying angels--ahriman in astrology---saturn--satan and job--set--the fatal seven--yakseyo --the singhalese pretraya--reeri--maha sohon--morotoo--luther on disease-demons--gopolu--madan--cattle-demon in russia--bihlweisen --the plough. a familiar fable in the east tells of one who met a fearful phantom, which in reply to his questioning answered--'i am plague: i have come from yon city where ten thousand lie dead: one thousand were slain by me, the rest by fear.' perhaps even this story does not fully report the alliance between the plague and fear; for it is hardly doubtful that epidemics retain their power in the east largely because they have gained personification through fear as demons whose fatal power man can neither prevent nor cure, before which he can only cower and pray. in the missionary school at canterbury the young men prepare themselves to help the 'heathen' medically, and so they go forth with materia medica in one hand, and in the other an infallible revelation from heaven reporting plagues as the inflictions of jehovah, or the destroying angel, or satan, and the healing of disease the jealously reserved monopoly of god. [ ] the demonisation of diseases is not wonderful. to thoughtful minds not even science has dispelled the mystery which surrounds many of the ailments that afflict mankind, especially the normal diseases besetting children, hereditary complaints, and the strange liabilities to infection and contagion. a genuine, however partial, observation would suggest to primitive man some connection between the symptoms of many diseases and the mysterious universe of which he could not yet recognise himself an epitome. there were indications that certain troubles of this kind were related to the seasons, consequently to the celestial rulers of the seasons,--to the sun that smote by day, and the moon at night. professor monier williams, describing the devil-dances of southern india, says that there seems to be an idea among them that when pestilences are rife exceptional measures must be taken to draw off the malignant spirits, supposed to cause them, by tempting them to enter into these wild dancers, and so become dissipated. he witnessed in ceylon a dance performed by three men who personated the forms and phases of typhus fever. [ ] these dances probably belong to the same class of ideas as those of the dervishes in persia, whose manifold contortions are supposed to repeat the movements of planets. they are invocations of the souls of good stars, and propitiations of such as are evil. belief in such stellar and planetary influences has pervaded every part of the world, and gave rise to astrological dances. 'gebelin says that the minuet was the danse oblique of the ancient priests of apollo, performed in their temples. the diagonal line and the two parallels described in this dance were intended to be symbolical of the zodiac, and the twelve steps of which it is composed were meant for the twelve signs and the months of the year. the dance round the maypole and the cotillon has the same origin. diodorus tells us that apollo was adored with dances, and in the island of iona the god danced all night. the christians of st. thomas till a very late day celebrated their worship with dances and songs. calmet says there were dancing-girls in the temple at jerusalem.' [ ] the influence of the moon upon tides, the sleeplessness it causes, the restlessness of the insane under its occasional light, and such treacheries of moonshine as we have already considered, have populated our uninhabited satellite with demons. lunar legends have decorated some well-founded suspicions of moonlight. the mother draws the curtain between the moonshine and her little endymion, though not because she sees in the waning moon a pining selene whose kiss may waste away the beauty of youth. a mere survival is the 'bowing to the new moon:' a euphonism traceable to many myths about 'lunacy,' among them, as i think, to delilah ('languishing'), in whose lap the solar samson is shorn of his locks, leaving him only the blind destructive strength of the 'moonstruck.' in the purely semitic theories of the jews we find diseases ascribed to the wrath of jehovah, and their cure to his merciful mood. 'jehovah will make thy plagues wonderful, and the plagues of thy seed; ... he will bring upon thee all the diseases of egypt whereof thou wast afraid.' [ ] the emerods which smote the worshippers of dagon were ascribed directly to the hand of jehovah. [ ] in that vague degree of natural dualistic development which preceded the full iranian influence upon the jews, the infliction of diseases was delegated to an angel of jehovah, as in the narratives of smiting the firstborn of egypt, wasting the army of sennacherib, and the pestilence sent upon israel for david's sin. in the progress of this angel to be a demon of disease we find a phase of ambiguity, as shown in the hypochondria of saul. 'the spirit of jehovah departed from saul, and an evil spirit from jehovah troubled him.' [ ] all such ambiguities disappeared under the influence of iranian dualism. in the book of job we find the infliction of diseases and plagues completely transferred to a powerful spirit, a fully formed opposing potentate. the 'sons of god,' who in the first chapter of job are said to have presented themselves before jehovah, may be identified in the thirty-eighth as the stars which shouted for joy at the creation. satan is the wandering or malign planet which leads in the ahrimanic side of the persian planisphere. in the cosmographical theology of that country ormuzd was to reign for six thousand years, and then ahriman was to reign for a similar period. the moral associations of this speculation are discussed elsewhere; it is necessary here only to point out the bearing of the planispheric conception upon the ills that flesh is heir to. ahriman is the 'star-serpent' of the zendavasta. 'when the pâris rendered this world desolate, and overran the universe; when the star-serpent made a path for himself between heaven and earth,' &c.; 'when ahriman rambles on the earth, let him who takes the form of a serpent glide on the earth; let him who takes the form of the wolf run on the earth, and let the violent north wind bring weakness.' [ ] the dawn of ormuzd corresponds with april. the sun returns from winter's death by sign of the lamb (our aries), and thenceforth every month corresponds with a thousand years of the reign of the beneficent. september is denoted by the virgin and child. to the dark domain of ahriman the prefecture of the universe passes by libra,--the same balances which appear in the hand of satan. the star-serpent prevails over the virgin and child. then follow the months of the scorpion, the centaur, goat, &c., every month corresponding to a thousand years of the reign of ahriman. while this scheme corresponds in one direction with the demons of cold, and in another with the entrance and reign of moral evil in the world, beginnings of disease on earth were also ascribed to this seventh thousand of years when the golden age had passed. the depth of winter is reached in domicile of the goat, or of sirius, seth, saturn, satan--according to the many variants. and these, under their several names, make the great 'infortune' of astrology, wherein old culpepper amply instructed our fathers. 'in the general, consider that saturn is an old worn-out planet, weary, and of little estimation in this world; he causeth long and tedious sicknesses, abundance of sadness, and a cartload of doubts and fears; his nature is cold, and dry, and melancholy. and take special notice of this, that when saturn is lord of an eclipse (as he is one of the lords of this), he governs all the rest of the planets, but none can govern him. melancholy is made of all the humors in the body of man, but no humor of melancholy. he is envious, and keeps his anger long, and speaks but few words, but when he speaks he speaks to purpose. a man of deep cogitations; he will plot mischief when men are asleep; he hath an admirable memory, and remembers to this day how william the bastard abused him; he cannot endure to be a slave; he is poor with the poor, fearful with the fearful; he plots mischief against the superiours, with them that plot mischief against them; have a care of him, kings and magistrates of europe; he will show you what he can do in the effects of this eclipse; he is old, and therefore hath large experience, and will give perilous counsel; he moves but slowly, and therefore doth the more mischief; all the planets contribute their natures and strength to him, and when he sets on doing mischief he will do it to purpose; he doth not regard the company of the rest of the planets, neither do any of the rest of the planets regard his; he is a barren planet, and therefore delights not in women; he brings the pestilence; he is destructive to the fruits of the earth; he receives his light from the sun, and yet he hates the sun that gives it him.' [ ] many ages anterior to this began in india the dread of ketu, astronomically the ninth planet, mythologically the tail of the demon rahu, cut in twain as already told (p. ), supposed to be the prolific source of comets, meteors, and falling stars, also of diseases. from this ketu or dragon's tail were born the arunah ketavah (red ketus or apparitions), and ketu has become almost another word for disease. [ ] strongly influenced as were the jews by the exact division of the duodecimal period between good and evil, affirmed by the persians, they never lost sight of the ultimate supremacy of jehovah. though satan had gradually become a voluntary genius of evil, he still had to receive permission to afflict, as in the case of job, and during the lifetime of paul appears to have been still denied that 'power of death' which is first asserted by the unknown author of the epistle to the hebrews. [ ] satan's especial office was regarded as the infliction of disease. paul delivers the incestuous corinthian to satan 'for the destruction of the flesh,' and he also attributed the sickness and death of many to their communicating unworthily. [ ] he also recognises his own 'thorn in the flesh' as 'an angel from satan,' though meant for his moral advantage. [ ] a penitential psalm (assyrian) reads as follows:-- o my lord! my sins are many, my trespasses are great; and the wrath of the gods has plagued me with disease, and with sickness and sorrow. i fainted, but no one stretched forth his hand! i groaned, but no one drew nigh! i cried aloud, but no one heard! o lord, do not abandon thy servant! in the waters of the great storm seize his hand! the sins which he has committed turn them to righteousness. [ ] this psalm would hardly be out of place in the english burial-service, which deplores death as a visitation of divine wrath. wherever such an idea prevails, the natural outcome of it is a belief in demons of disease. in ancient egypt--following the belief in ra the sun, from whose eyes all pleasing things proceeded, and set, from whose eyes came all noxious things,--from the baleful light of set's eyes were born the seven hathors, or fates, whose names are recorded in the book of the dead. mr. fox talbot has translated 'the song of the seven spirits:'-- they are seven! they are seven! in the depths of ocean they are seven! in the heights of heaven they are seven! in the ocean-stream in a palace they were born! male they are not: female they are not! wives they have not: children are not born to them! rule they have not: government they know not! prayers they hear not! they are seven! they are seven! twice over they are seven! [ ] these demons have a way of herding together; the assyrian tablets abundantly show that their occupation was manifested by diseases, physical and mental. one prescription runs thus:-- the god (...) shall stand by his bedside: those seven evil spirits he shall root out, and shall expel them from his body: and those seven shall never return to the sick man again! it is hardly doubtful that these were the seven said to have been cast out of mary magdalen; for their father set is shedîm (devils) of deut. xxxii. , and shaddai (god) of gen. xvi. . but the fatal seven turn to the seven fruits that charm away evil influences at parturition in persia, also the seven wise women of the same country traditionally present on holy occasions. when ardá viráf was sent to paradise by a sacred narcotic to obtain intelligence of the true faith, seven fires were kept burning for seven days around him, and the seven wise women chanted hymns of the avesta. [ ] the entrance of the seven evil powers into a dwelling was believed by the assyrians to be preventible by setting in the doorway small images, such as those of the sun-god (hea) and the moon-goddess, but especially of marduk, corresponding to serapis the egyptian esculapius. these powers were reinforced by writing holy texts over and on each side of the threshold. 'in the night time bind around the sick man's head a sentence taken from a good book.' the phylacteries of the jews were originally worn for the same purpose. they were called tefila, and were related to teraphim, the little idols [ ] used by the jews to keep out demons--such as those of laban, which his daughter rachel stole. the resemblance of teraphim to the tarasca (connected by some with g. teras, a monster) of spain may be noted,--the serpent figures carried about in corpus christi processions. the latter word is known in the south of france also, and gave its name to the town tarascon. the legend is that an amphibious monster haunted the rhone, preventing navigation and committing terrible ravages, until sixteen of the boldest inhabitants of the district resolved to encounter it. eight lost their lives, but the others, having destroyed the monster, founded the town of tarascon, where the 'fête de la tarasque' is still kept up. [ ] calmet, sedley, and others, however, believe that teraphim is merely a modification of seraphim, and the tefila, or phylacteries, of the same origin. the phylactery was tied into a knot. justin martyr says that the jewish exorcists used 'magic ties or knots.' the origin of this custom among the jews and babylonians may be found in the assyrian talismans preserved in the british museum, of which the following has been translated by mr. fox talbot:-- hea says: go, my son! take a woman's kerchief, bind it round thy right hand, loose it from the left hand! knot it with seven knots: do so twice: sprinkle it with bright wine: bind it round the head of the sick man: bind it round his hands and feet, like manacles and fetters. sit down on his bed: sprinkle holy water over him. he shall hear the voice of hea, darkness shall protect him! and marduk, eldest son of heaven, shall find him a happy habitation. [ ] the number seven holds an equally high degree of potency in singhalese demonolatry, which is mainly occupied with diseases. the capuas or conjurors of that island enumerate , magic spells, of which all except one are for evil, which implies a tolerably large preponderance of the emergencies in which their countervailing efforts are required by their neighbours. that of course can be easily appreciated by those who have been taught that all human beings are included under a primal curse. the words of micah, 'thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea,' [ ] are recalled by the legend of these evil spells of ceylon. the king of oude came to marry one of seven princesses, all possessing præternatural powers, and questioned each as to her art. each declared her skill in doing harm, except one who asserted her power to heal all ills which the others could inflict. the king having chosen this one as his bride, the rest were angry, and for revenge collected all the charms in the world, enclosed them in a pumpkin--the only thing that can contain spells without being reduced to ashes--and sent this infernal machine to their sister. it would consume everything for sixteen hundred miles round; but the messenger dropped it in the sea. a god picked it up and presented it to the king of ceylon, and these, with the healing charm known to his own queen, make the , spells known to the capuas of that island, who have no doubt deified the rescuer of the spells on the same principle that inspires some seaside populations to worship providence more devoutly on the sunday after a valuable wreck in their neighbourhood. the astrological origin of the evils ascribed to the yakseyo (demons) of ceylon, and the horoscope which is a necessary preliminary to any dealing with their influences; the constant recurrence of the number seven, denoting origin with races holding the seven-planet theories of the universe; and the fact that all demons are said, on every saturday evening, to attend an assemblage called yaksa sabawa (witches' sabbath), are facts that may well engage the attention of comparative mythologists. [ ] in dardistan the evil spirits are called yatsh; they dwell 'in the regions of snow,' and the overthrow of their reign over the country is celebrated at the new moon of daykio, the month preceding winter. the largest proportion of the disease demons of ceylon are descended from its hunger demons. the preta there is much the same phantom as in siam, only they are not quite so tall. [ ] they range from two to four hundred feet in height, and are so numerous that a pali buddhist book exhorts people not to throw stones, lest they should harm one of these harmless starveling ghosts, who die many times of hunger, and revive to suffer on in expiation of their sins in a previous existence. they are harmless in one sense, but filthy; and bad smells are personified in them. the great mass of demons resemble the pretraya, in that their king (wessamony) has forbidden them to satisfy themselves directly upon their victims, but by inflicting diseases they are supposed to receive an imaginative satisfaction somewhat like that of eating people. reeri is the demon of blood-disease. his form is that of a man with face of a monkey; he is fiery red, rides on a red bull, and all hemorrhages and diseases of the blood are attributed to him. reeri has eighteen different disguises or avatars. one of these recalls his earlier position as a demon of death, before vishnu revealed to capuas the means of binding him: he is now supposed to be present at every death-bed in the form of a delighted pigmy, one span and six inches high. on such occasions he bears a cock in one hand, a club in the other, and in his mouth a corpse. in the same country maha sohon is the 'great graveyard demon.' he resides in a hill where he is supposed to surround himself with carcases. he is feet high, has four hands and three eyes, and a red skin. he has the head of a bear; the legend being that while quarrelling with another giant his head was knocked off, and the god senasura was gracious enough to tear off the head of a bear and clap it on the decapitated giant. his capua threatens him with a repetition of this catastrophe if he does not spare any threatened victim who has called in his priestly aid. except for this timidity about his head, maha is formidable, being chief of , demons. but curiously enough he is said to choose for his steeds the more innocent animals,--goat, deer, horse, elephant, and hog. one of the demons most dreaded in ceylon is the 'foreign demon' morotoo, said to have come from the coast of malabar, and from his residence in a tree disseminated diseases which could not be cured until, the queen being afflicted, one capua was found able to master him. seven-eighths of the charms used in restraining the disease-demons of ceylon, of which i have mentioned but a few, are in the tamil tongue. in various parts of india are found very nearly the same systematic demonolatry and 'devil-dancing;' for example in travancore, to whose superstitions of this character the rev. samuel mateer has devoted two chapters in his work 'the land of charity.' the great demon of diseases in ceylon is entitled maha cola sanni yakseya. his father, a king, ordered his queen to be put to death in the belief that she had been faithless to him. her body was to be cut in two pieces, one of which was to be hung upon a tree (ukberiya), the other to be thrown at its foot to the dogs. the queen before her execution said, 'if this charge be false, may the child in my womb be born this instant a demon, and may that demon destroy the whole of this city and its unjust king.' so soon as the executioners had finished their work, the two severed parts of the queen's body reunited, a child was born who completely devoured his mother, and then repaired to the graveyard (sohon), where for a time he fattened on corpses. then he proceeded to inflict mortal diseases upon the city, and had nearly depopulated it when the gods iswara and sekkra interfered, descending to subdue him in the disguise of mendicants. possibly the great maha sohon mentioned above, and the sohon (graveyard) from which sanni dealt out deadliness, may be best understood by the statement of the learned writer from whom these facts are quoted, that, 'excepting the buddhist priests, and the aristocrats of the land, whose bodies were burnt in regular funeral-piles after death, the corpses of the rest of the people were neither burned nor buried, but thrown into a place called sohona, which was an open piece of ground in the jungle, generally a hollow among the hills, at the distance of three or four miles from any inhabited place, where they were left in the open air to be decomposed or devoured by dogs and wild beasts.' [ ] there would appear to be even more ground for the dread of the great graveyard demon in many parts of christendom, where, through desire to preserve corpses for a happy resurrection, they are made to steal through the water-veins of the earth, and find their resurrection as fell diseases. iswara and sekkra were probably two reformers who persuaded the citizens to bury the poor deep in the earth; had they been wise enough to place the dead where nature would give them speedy resurrection and life in grass and flowers, it would not have been further recorded that 'they ordered him (the demon) to abstain from eating men, but gave him wurrun or permission to inflict disease on mankind, and to obtain offerings.' this is very much the same as the privilege given our western funeral agencies and cemeteries also; and when the modliar adds that sanni 'has eighteen principal attendants,' one can hardly help thinking of the mummers, gravediggers, chaplains, all engaged unconsciously in the work of making the earth less habitable. the first of the attendants of this formidable avenger of his mother's wrongs is named bhoota sanni yakseya, demon of madness. the whole demonolatry and devil-dancing of that island are so insane that one is not surprised that this bhoota had but little special development. it is amid clear senses we might naturally look for full horror of madness, and there indeed do we find it. one of the most horrible forms of the disease-demon was the personification of madness among the greeks, as mania. [ ] in the hercules furens of euripides, where madness, 'the unwedded daughter of black night,' and sprung of 'the blood of coelus,' is evoked from tartarus for the express purpose of imbreeding in hercules 'child-slaying disturbances of reason,' there is a suggestion of the hereditary nature of insanity. obedient to the vindictive order of juno, 'in her chariot hath gone forth the marble-visaged, all-mournful madness, the gorgon of night, and with the hissing of hundred heads of snakes, she gives the goad to her chariot, on mischief bent.' we may plainly see that the religion which embodied such a form was itself ending in madness. already ancient were the words mantikê (prophecy) and manikê (madness) when plato cited their identity to prove one kind of madness the special gift of heaven: [ ] the notion lingers in dryden's line, 'great wits to madness sure are near allied;' and survive in regions where deference is paid to lunatics and idiots. other diseases preserve in their names indications of similar association: e.g., nympholepsy, st. vitus's dance, st. anthony's fire. wesley attributes still epilepsy to 'possession.' this was in pursuance of ancient beliefs. typhus, a name anciently given to every malady accompanied with stupor (typhos), seemed the breath of feverish typhon. max müller connects the word quinsy with sanskrit amh, 'to throttle,' and ahi the throttling serpent, its medium being angina; and this again is kynanchê, dog-throttling, the greek for quinsy. [ ] the genius of william blake, steeped in hebraism, never showed greater power than in his picture of plague. a gigantic hideous form, pale-green, with the slime of stagnant pools, reeking with vegetable decays and gangrene, the face livid with the motley tints of pallor and putrescence, strides onward with extended arms like a sower sowing his seeds, only in this case the germs of his horrible harvest are not cast from the hands, but emanate from the fingers as being of their essence. such, to the savage mind, was the embodiment of malaria, sultriness, rottenness, the putrid pretraya, invisible, but smelt and felt. such, to the ignorant imagination, is the destroying angel to which rationalistic artists and poets have tried to add wings and majesty; but which in the popular mind was no doubt pictured more like this form found at ostia (fig. ), and now passing in the vatican for a satan,--probably a demon of the pontine marshes, and of the fever that still has victims of its fatal cup (p. ). in these fearful forms the poor savage believed with such an intensity that he was able to shape the brain of man to his phantasy; bringing about the anomaly that the great reformer, luther, should affirm, even while fighting superstition, that a christian ought to know that he lives in the midst of devils, and that the devil is nearer to him than his coat or his shirt. the devils, he tells us, are all around us, and are at every moment seeking to ensnare our lives, salvation, and happiness. there are many of them in the woods, waters, deserts, and in damp muddy places, for the purpose of doing folk a mischief. they also house in the dense black clouds, and send storms, hail, thunder and lightning, and poison the air with their infernal stench. in one place, luther tells us that the devil has more vessels and boxes full of poison, with which he kills people, than all the apothecaries in the whole world. he sends all plagues and diseases among men. we may be sure that when any one dies of the pestilence, is drowned, or drops suddenly dead, the devil does it. knowing nothing of zoology, the primitive man easily falls into the belief that his cattle--the means of life--may be the subjects of sorcery. jesus sending devils into a herd of swine may have become by artificial process a divine benefactor in the eye of christendom, but the myth makes him bear an exact resemblance to the dangerous sorcerer that fills the savage mind with dread. it is probable that the covetous eye denounced in the decalogue means the evil eye, which was supposed to blight an object intensely desired but not to be obtained. gopolu, already referred to (p. ) as the singhalese demon of hydrophobia, bears the general name of the 'cattle demon.' he is said to have been the twin of the demigod mangara by a queen on the coromandel coast. the mother died, and a cow suckled the twins, but afterwards they quarrelled, and gopolu being slain was transformed into a demon. he repaired to arangodde, and fixed his abode in a banyan where there is a large bee-hive, whence proceed many evils. the population around this banyan for many miles being prostrated by diseases, the demigod mangara and pattini (goddess of chastity) admonished the villagers to sacrifice a cow regularly, and thus they were all resuscitated. gopolu now sends all cattle diseases. india is full of the like superstitions. the people of travancore especially dread the demon madan, 'he who is like a cow,' believed to strike oxen with sudden illness,--sometimes men also. in russia we find superstition sometimes modified by common sense. though the peasant hopes that zegory (st. george) will defend his cattle, he begins to see the chief foes of his cattle. as in the folk-song-- we have gone around the field, we have called zegory.... o thou, our brave zegory, save our cattle, in the field and beyond the field, in the forest and beyond the forest, under the bright moon, under the red sun, from the rapacious wolf, from the cruel bear, from the cunning beast. [ ] nevertheless when a cattle plague occurs many villages relapse into a normally extinct state of mind. thus, a few years ago, in a village near moscow, all the women, having warned the men away, stripped themselves entirely naked and drew a plough so as to make a furrow entirely around the village. at the point of juncture in this circle they buried alive a cock, a cat, and a dog. then they filled the air with lamentations, crying--'cattle plague! cattle plague! spare our cattle! behold, we offer thee cock, cat, and dog!' the dog is a demonic character in russia, while the cat is sacred; for once when the devil tried to get into paradise in the form of a mouse, the dog allowed him to pass, but the cat pounced on him--the two animals being set on guard at the door. the offering of both seems to represent a desire to conciliate both sides. the nudity of the women may have been to represent to the hungry gods their utter poverty, and inability to give more; but it was told me in moscow, where i happened to be staying at the time, that it would be dangerous for any man to draw near during the performance. in altmark [ ] the demons who bewitch cattle are called 'bihlweisen,' and are believed to bury certain diabolical charms under thresholds over which the animals are to pass, causing them to wither away, the milk to cease, etc. the prevention is to wash the cattle with a lotion of sea cabbage boiled with infusion of wine. in the same province it is related that once there appeared in a harvest-field at one time fifteen, at another twelve men (apparently), the latter headless. they all laboured with scythes, but though the rustling could be heard no grain fell. when questioned they said nothing, and when the people tried to seize them they ran away, cutting fruitlessly as they ran. the priests found in this a presage of the coming cattle plague. the russian superstition of the plough, above mentioned, is found in fragmentary survivals in altmark. thus, it is said that to plough around a village and then sit under the plough (placed upright), will enable any one to see the witches; and in some villages, some bit of a plough is hung up over a doorway through which cattle pass, as no devil can then approach them. the demons have a natural horror of honest work, and especially the culture of the earth. goethe, as we have seen, notes their fear of roses: perhaps he remembered the legend of aspasia, who, being disfigured by a tumour on the chin, was warned by a dove-maiden to dismiss her physicians and try a rose from the garland of venus; so she recovered health and beauty. chapter xii. death. the vendetta of death--teoyaomiqui--demon of serpents--death on the pale horse--kali--war-gods--satan as death--death-beds-- thanatos--yama--yimi--towers of silence--alcestis--hercules, christ, and death--hel--salt--azraël--death and the cobbler-- dance of death--death as foe, and as friend. savage races believe that no man dies except by sorcery. therefore every death must be avenged. the actas of the philippines regard the 'indians' as the cause of the deaths among them; and when one of them loses a relative, he lurks and watches until he has spied an 'indian' and killed him. [ ] it is a progress from this when primitive man advances to the belief that the fatal sorcerer is an invisible man--a demon. when this doctrine is taught in the form of a belief that death entered the world through the machinations of satan, and was not in the original scheme of creation, it is civilised; but when it is inculcated under a set of african or other non-christian names, it is barbarian. the following sketch, by mr. gideon lang, will show the intensity of this conviction among the natives of new south wales:-- 'while at nanima i constantly saw one of these, named jemmy, a remarkably fine man, about twenty-eight years of age, who was the 'model christian' of the missionaries, and who had been over and over again described in their reports as a living proof that, taken in infancy, the natives were as capable of being truly christianised as a people who had had eighteen centuries of civilisation. i confess that i strongly doubted, but still there was no disputing the apparent facts. jemmy was not only familiar with the bible, which he could read remarkably well, but he was even better acquainted with the more abstruse tenets of christianity; and so far as the whites could see, his behaviour was in accordance with his religious acquirements. one sunday morning i walked down to the black fellows' camp, to have a talk with jemmy, as usual. i found him sitting in his gunyah, overlooking a valley of the macquarrie, whose waters glanced brightly in the sunshine of the delicious spring morning. he was sitting in a state of nudity, excepting his waistcloth, very earnestly reading the bible, which indeed was his constant practice; and i could see that he was perusing the sermon on the mount. i seated myself, and waited till he concluded the chapter, when he laid down the bible, folded his hands, and sat with his eyes fixed abstractedly on his fire. i bade him 'good morning,' which he acknowledged without looking up. i then said, 'jemmy, what is the meaning of your spears being stuck in a circle round you?' he looked me steadily in the eyes, and said solemnly and with suppressed fierceness, 'mother's dead!' i said that i was very sorry to hear it; 'but what had her death to do with the spears being stuck around so?' 'bogan black-fellow killed her!' was the fierce and gloomy reply. 'killed by a bogan black!' i exclaimed: 'why, your mother has been dying a fortnight, and dr. curtis did not expect her to outlive last night, which you know as well as i do.' his only reply was a dogged repetition of the words: 'a bogan black-fellow killed her!' i appealed to him as a christian--to the sermon on the mount, that he had just been reading; but he absolutely refused to promise that he would not avenge his mother's death. in the afternoon of that day we were startled by a yell which can never be mistaken by any person who has once heard the wild war-whoop of the blacks when in battle array. on marching out we saw all the black fellows of the neighbourhood formed into a line, and following jemmy in an imaginary attack upon an enemy. jemmy himself disappeared that evening. on the following wednesday morning i found him sitting complacently in his gunyah, plaiting a rope of human hair, which i at once knew to be that of his victim. neither of us spoke; i stood for some time watching him as he worked with a look of mocking defiance of the anger he knew i felt. i pointed to a hole in the middle of his fire, and said, 'jemmy, the proper place for your bible is there.' he looked up with his eyes flashing as i turned away, and i never saw him again. i afterwards learned that he had gone to the district of the bogan tribe, where the first black he met happened to be an old friend and companion of his own. this man had just made the first cut in the bark of a tree, which he was about to climb for an opossum; but on hearing footsteps he leaped down and faced round, as all blacks do, and whites also, when blacks are in question. seeing that it was only jemmy, however, he resumed his occupation, but had no sooner set to work than jemmy sent a spear through his back and nailed him to the tree. [ ] perhaps if jemmy could have been cross-examined by the non-missionary mind, he might have replied with some effect to mr. lang's suggestion that he ought to part with his bible. surely he must have found in that volume a sufficient number of instances to justify his faith in the power of demons over human health and life. might he not have pondered the command, 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' and imagined that he was impaling another manasseh, who 'used enchantments, and used witchcraft, and dealt with a familiar spirit, and with wizards (and) wrought much evil in the sight of the lord to provoke him to anger.' [ ] those who hope that the bible may carry light into the dark places of superstition and habitations of cruelty might, one would say, reflect upon the long contest which european science had with bibliolators in trying to relieve the popular mind from the terrors of witchcraft, whose genuineness it was (justly) declared contrary to the scriptures to deny. there are districts in great britain and america, and many more on the continent of europe, where the spells that waste and destroy are still believed in; where effigies of wax or even onions are labelled with some hated name, and stuck over with pins, and set near fires to be melted or dried up, in full belief that some subject of the charm will be consumed by disease along with the object used. under every roof where such coarse superstitions dwell the bible dwells beside them, and experience proves that the infallibility of all such talismans diminishes pari passu. what the savage is really trying to slay when he goes forth to avenge his relative's death on the first alien he finds may be seen in the accompanying figure ( ), which represents the mexican goddess of death--teoyaomiqui. the image is nine feet high, and is kept in a museum in the city of mexico. mr. edward b. tylor, from whose excellent book of travels in that country the figure is copied, says of it:--'the stone known as the statue of the war-goddess is a huge block of basalt covered with sculptures. the antiquaries think that the figures on it stand for different personages, and that it is three gods--huitzilopochtli, the god of war; teoyaomiqui, his wife; and mictlanteuctli, the god of hell. it has necklaces of alternate hearts and dead men's hands, with death's heads for a central ornament. at the bottom of the block is a strange sprawling figure, which one cannot see now, for it is the base which rests on the ground; but there are two shoulders projecting from the idol, which show plainly that it did not stand on the ground, but was supported aloft on the tops of two pillars. the figure carved upon the bottom represents a monster holding a skull in each hand, while others hang from his knees and elbows. his mouth is a mere oval ring, a common feature of mexican idols, and four tusks project just above it. the new moon laid down like a bridge forms his forehead, and a star is placed on each side of it. this is thought to have been the conventional representation of mictlanteuctli (lord of the land of the dead), the god of hell, which was a place of utter and eternal darkness. probably each victim as he was led to the altar could look up between the two pillars and see the hideous god of hell staring down upon him from above. there is little doubt that this is the famous war-idol which stood on the great teocalli of mexico, and before which so many thousands of human beings were sacrificed. it lay undisturbed under ground in the great square, close to the very site of the teocalli, until sixty years ago. for many years after that it was kept buried, lest the sight of one of their old deities might be too exciting for the indians, who, as i have mentioned before, had certainly not forgotten it, and secretly ornamented it with garlands of flowers while it remained above ground.' if my reader will now turn to the (fig. ) portrait of the demon of serpents, he will find a conception fundamentally similar to the mexican demoness of death or slaughter, but one that is not shut up in a museum of antiquities; it still haunts and terrifies a vast number of the people born in ceylon. he is the principal demon invoked in ceylon by the malignant sorcerers in performing the , different charms that afflict evils (hooniyan). his general title is oddy cumara hooniyan dewatawa; but he has a special name for each of his six several apparitions, the chief of these being cali oddisey, or demon of incurable diseases, therefore of death, and naga oddisey, demon of serpents--deadliest of animals. beneath him is the pale horse which has had its career so long and far,--even to the white mare on which, in some regions, christ is believed to revisit the earth every christmas; and also the white mare of yorkshire folklore which bore its rider from whitestone cliff to hell. this singhalese form also, albeit now associated by capuas with fatal disease, was probably at first, like the mexican, a war goddess and god combined, as is shown by the uplifted sword, and reeking hand uplifted in triumph. equally a god of war is our 'death on the pale horse,' which christian art, following the so-called apocalypse, has made so familiar. 'i looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was death, and hell followed with him. and power was given to him over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.' this is but a travesty of the greek ares, the roman mars, or god of war. in the original greek-form ares was not solely the god of war, but of destruction generally. in the oedipus tyrannus of sophocles we have the popular conception of him as one to whom the deadly plague is ascribed. he is named as the 'god unhonoured among gods,' and it is said:--'the city is wildly tossing, and no more can lift up her head from the waves of death; withering the ripening grain in the husks, withering the kine in their pastures; blighted are the babes through the failing labours of women; the fire-bearing god, horrid pestilence, having darted down, ravages the city; by him the house of cadmus is empty, and dark hades enriched with groans and lamentations.' mother of the deadliest 'calas' of singhalese demonolatry, sister of the scandinavian hel in name and nature, is kali. although the hindu writers repudiate the idea that there is any devil among their three hundred and thirty millions of deities, it is difficult to deny kali that distinction. her wild dance of delight over bodies of the slain would indicate pleasure taken in destruction for its own sake, so fulfilling the definition of a devil; but, on the other hand, there is a deccan legend that reports her as devouring the dead, and this would make her a hunger-demon. we may give her the benefit of the doubt, and class her among the demons--or beings whose evil is not gratuitous--all the more because the mysteriously protruding tongue, as in the figure of typhon (p. ), probably suggests thirst. hindu legend does, indeed, give another interpretation, and say that when she was dancing for joy at having slain a hundred-headed giant demigod, the shaking of the earth was so formidable that siva threw himself among the slain, whom she was crushing at every step, hoping to induce her to pause; but when, unheeding, she trod upon the body of her husband, she paused and thrust out her tongue from surprise and shame. the vedic description of agni as an ugra (ogre), with 'tongue of flame,' may better interpret kali's tongue. it is said kali is pleased for a hundred years by the blood of a tiger; for a thousand by that of a man; for a hundred thousand by the blood of three men. how are we to understand this dance of death, and the further legend of her tossing dead bodies into the air for amusement? such a figure found among a people who shudder at taking life even from the lowest animals is hardly to be explained by the destructiveness of nature personified in her spouse siva. her looks and legends alike represent slaughter by human violence. may it not be that kali represents some period when the abhorrence of taking life among a vegetarian people--a people, too, believing in transmigration--might have become a public danger? when krishna appeared it was, according to the bhágavat gita, as charioteer inciting arjoon to war. there must have been various periods when a peaceful people must fall victims to more savage neighbours unless they could be stimulated to enter on the work of destruction with a light heart. there may have been periods when the human kalis of india might stimulate their husbands and sons to war with such songs as the women of dardistan sing at the feast of fire (p. ). the amour of the greek goddess of beauty with the god of war, leaving her lawful spouse the smith, is full of meaning. the assyrian venus, istar, appeared in a vision, with wings and halo, bearing a bow and arrow for assurbanipal. the thug appears to have taken some such view of kali, regarding her as patroness of their plan for reducing population. they are said to have claimed that kali left them one of her teeth for a pickaxe, her rib for a knife, her garment's hem for a noose, and wholesale murder for a religion. the uplifted right hand of the demoness has been interpreted as intimating a divine purpose in the havoc around her, and it is possible that some such euphemism attached to the attitude before the thug accepted it as his own benediction from this highly decorated personage of human cruelty. the ancient reverence for kali has gradually passed to her mitigated form--durgá. around her too are visible the symbols of destruction; but she is supposed to be satisfied with pumpkin-animals, and the weapons in her ten hands are believed to be directed against the enemies of the gods, especially against the giant king muheshu. she is mother of the beautiful boy kartik, and of the elephant-headed inspirer of knowledge ganesa. she is reverenced now as female energy, the bestower of beauty and fruitfulness on women. the identity of war-gods and death-demons, in the most frightful conceptions which have haunted the human imagination, is of profound significance. these forms do not represent peaceful and natural death, not death by old age,--of which, alas, those who cowered before them knew but little,--but death amid cruelty and agony, and the cutting down of men in the vigour of life. that indeed was terrible,--even more than these rude images could describe. but there are other details in these hideous forms. the priest has added to the horse and sword of war the adored serpent, and hideous symbols of the 'land of the dead.' for it is not by terror of death, but of what he can persuade men lies beyond, that the priest has reigned over mankind. when isabel (in 'measure for measure') is trying to persuade her brother that the sense of death lies most in apprehension, the sentenced youth still finds death 'a fearful thing.' ay, but to die, and go we know not where; to lie in cold obstruction and to rot; this sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit to bathe in fiery floods, or to reside in thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; to be imprisoned in the viewless winds, and blown with violence round about the pendent world; or to be worse than worst of these, that lawless and incertain thoughts imagine howling!--'tis too horrible! the weariest and most loathed worldly life that age, ache, penury, and imprisonment can lay on nature, is a paradise to what we fear of death. in all these apprehensions of claudio there is no thought of annihilation. what if he had seen death as an eternal sleep? let hamlet answer:-- to die,--to sleep;-- no more;--and, by a sleep, to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to,--'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. the greater part of the human race still belong to religions which, in their origin, promised eternal repose as the supreme final bliss. had death in itself possessed horrors for the human mind, the priest need not have conjured up beyond it those tortures that haunted hamlet with the dreams of possible evils beyond which make even the wretched rather bear the ills they have than fly to others they know not of. it would have been sufficient sanction to promise immortality only to the pious. but as in claudio's shuddering lines every hell is reflected--whether of ice, fire, or brutalisation--so are the same mixed with the very blood and brain of mankind, even where literally outgrown. christianity superadded to the horrors by importing the idea that death came by human sin, and so by gradual development ascribing to satan the power of death; thereby forming a new devil who bore in him the power to make death a punishment. how the matter stood in the mediæval belief may be seen in figure , copied from a russian bible of the (early) seventeenth century. lazarus smiles to see the nondescript soul of dives torn from him by a devil with a hook, while another drowns the groans with a drum. satan squirts an infernal baptism on the departing soul, and the earnest co-operation of the archangel justifies the satisfaction of lazarus and abraham. this degraded belief is still found in the almost gleeful pulpit-picturings of physical agonies as especially attending the death-beds of 'infidels,'--as voltaire and paine,--and its fearful result is found in the degree to which priesthoods are still able to paralyse the common sense and heart of the masses by the barbaric ceremonials with which they are permitted to surround death, and the arrogant line drawn between unorthodox goats and credulous sheep by 'consecrated' ground. mr. keary, in his interesting volume on 'the dawn of history,' [ ] says that it has been suggested that the youthful winged figure on the drum of a column from the temple of diana at ephesus to the british museum, may be a representation of thanatos, death. it would be agreeable to believe that the only important representation of death left by greek art is that exquisite figure, whose high tribute is that it was at first thought to be love! the figure is somewhat like the tender eros of preraphaelite art, and with the same look of gentle melancholy. such a sweet and simple form of death would be worthy of the race which, amid all the fiery or cold rivers of the underworld which had gathered about their religion, still saw running there the soft-flowing stream of forgetfulness. let one study this ephesian thanatos reverently--no engraving or photograph can do it even partial justice--and then in its light read those myths of death which seem to bear us back beyond the savagery of war and the artifices of priests to the simpler conceptions of humanity. in its serene light we may especially read both vedic and iranian hymns and legends of yama. the first man to die became the powerful yama of the hindus, the monarch of the dead; and he became invested with metaphors of the sun that had set. [ ] in a solemn and pathetic hymn of the vedas he is said to have crossed the rapid waters, to have shown the way to many, to have first known the path on which our fathers crossed over. [ ] but in the splendours of sunset human hope found its prophetic pictures of a heaven beyond. the vedic yama is ever the friend. it is one of the most picturesque facts of mythology that, after yama had become in india another name for death, the same name reappeared in persia, and in the avesta, as a type at once of the golden age in the past and of paradise in the future. such was the iranian yima. he was that 'flos regum' whose reign represented 'the ideal of human happiness, when there was neither illness nor death, neither heat nor cold,' and who has never died. 'according to the earlier traditions of the avesta,' says spiegel, 'jima does not die, but when evil and misery began to prevail on earth, retires to a smaller space, a kind of garden or eden, where he continues his happy life with those who remained true to him.' such have been the antecedents of our many beautiful myths which ascribe even an earthly immortality to the great,--to barbarossa, arthur, and even to the heroes of humbler races as hiawatha and glooscap of north american tribes,--who are or were long believed to have 'sailed into the fiery sunset,' or sought some fair island, or to slumber in a hidden grotto, until the world shall have grown up to their stature and requires their return. in japan the (sintoo) god of hell is now named amma, and one may suspect that it is some imitation of yama by reason of the majesty he still retains in the popular conception. he is pictured as a grave man, wearing a judicial cap, and no cruelties seem to be attributed to him personally, but only to the oni or demons of whom he is lord. the kindly characteristics of the hindu yama seem in persia to have been replaced by the bitterness of ahriman, or anra-mainyu, the genius of evil. haug interprets anra-mainyu as 'death-darting.' the word is the counterpart of speñta-mainyu, and means originally the 'throttling spirit;' being thus from anh, philologically the root of all evil, as we shall see when we consider its dragon brood. professor whitney translates the name 'malevolent.' but, whatever may be the meaning of the word, there is little doubt that the twins of vedic mythology--yama and yami--parted into genii of day and night, and were ultimately spiritualised in the spirit of light and spirit of darkness which have made the basis of all popular theology from the time of zoroaster until this day. nothing can be more remarkable than the extreme difference between the ancient hindu and the persian view of death. as to the former it was the happy introduction to yama, to the latter it was the visible seal of ahriman's equality with ormuzd. they held it in absolute horror. the towers of silence stand in india to-day as monuments of this darkest phase of the parsî belief. the dead body belonged to ahriman, and was left to be devoured by wild creatures; and although the raising of towers for the exposure of the corpse, so limiting its consumption to birds, has probably resulted from a gradual rationalism which has from time to time suggested that by such means souls of the good may wing their way to ormuzd, yet the parsî horror of death is strong enough to give rise to such terrible suspicions, even if they were unfounded, as those which surrounded the tower (khao's dokhma) in june . the strange behaviour of the corpse-bearers in leaving one tower, going to another, and afterwards (as was said) secretly repairing to the first, excited the belief that a man had been found alive in the first and was afterwards murdered. the story seems to have begun with certain young parsîs themselves, and, whether it be true or not, they have undoubtedly interpreted rightly the ancient feeling of that sect with regard to all that had been within the kingdom of the king of terrors. 'as sickness and death,' says professor whitney, 'were supposed to be the work of the malignant powers, the dead body itself was regarded with superstitious horror. it had been gotten by the demons into their own peculiar possession, and became a chief medium through which they exercised their defiling action upon the living. everything that came into its neighbourhood was unclean, and to a certain extent exposed to the influences of the malevolent spirits, until purified by the ceremonies which the law prescribed.' [ ] it is to be feared this notion has crept in among the brahmans; the indian mirror (may , ) states that a chandernagore lady, thrown into the ganges, but afterwards found to be alive, was believed to be possessed by dano (an evil spirit), and but for interference would have found a watery grave. the jews also were influenced by this belief, and to this day it is forbidden a cohen, or descendant of the priesthood, to touch a dead body. the audience at the crystal palace which recently witnessed the performance of euripides' alcestis could hardly, it is to be feared, have realised the relation of the drama to their own religion. apollo induces the fates to consent that admetus shall not die provided he can find a substitute for him. the pure alcestis steps forward and devotes herself to death to save her husband. apollo tries to persuade death to give back alcestis, but death declares her fate demanded by justice. while alcestis is dying, admetus bids her entreat the gods for pity; but alcestis says it is a god who has brought on the necessity, and adds, 'be it so!' she sees the hall of the dead, with 'the winged pluto staring from beneath his black eyebrows.' she reminds her husband of the palace and regal sway she might have enjoyed in thessaly had she not left it for him. bitterly does pheres reproach admetus for accepting life through the vicarious suffering and death of another. then comes hercules; he vanquishes death; he leads forth alcestis from 'beneath into the light.' with her he comes into the presence of admetus, who is still in grief. admetus cannot recognise her; but when he recognises her with joy, hercules warns him that it is not lawful for alcestis to address him 'until she is unbound from her consecration to the gods beneath, and the third day come.' it only requires a change of names to make alcestis a passion-play. the unappeasable justice which is as a fate binding the deity, though it may be satisfied vicariously; 'the last enemy, death;' the atonement by sacrifice of a saintly human being, who from a father's palace is brought by love freely to submit to death; the son of a god (zeus) by a human mother (alcmene),--the god-man herakles,--commissioned to destroy earthly evils by twelve great labours,--descending to conquer death and deliver one of the 'spirits in prison,' the risen spirit not recognised at first, as jesus was not by mary; still bearing the consecration of the grave until the third day, which forbade intercourse with the living ('touch me not, for i am not yet ascended to my father'),--all these enable us to recognise in the theologic edifices around us the fragments of a crumbled superstition as they lay around euripides. from the old pictures of christ's triumphal pilgrimage on earth parallels for the chief labours of herakles may be found; he is shown treading on the lion, asp, dragon, and satan; but the myths converge in the descent into hades and the conquest of death. it is remarkable that in the old pictures of christ delivering souls from hades he is generally represented closely followed by eve, whose form so emerging would once have been to the greater part of europe already familiar as that of either alcestis, eurydice, or persephone. one of the earliest examples of the familiar subject, christ conquering death, is that in the ancient (tenth century) missal of worms,--that city whose very name preserves the record of the same combat under the guise of siegfried and the worm, or dragon. the cross is now the sword thrust near the monster's mouth. the picture illustrates the chant of holy week: 'de manu mortis liberabo eos, de morte redimam eos. ero mors tua, o mors; morsus tuus ero, inferne.' from the pierced mouth of death are vomited flames, which remind us of his ethnical origin; but it is not likely that to the christianised pagans of worms the picture could ever have conveyed an impression so weirdly horrible as that of their own goddess of death, hel. 'her hall is called elvidnir, realm of the cold storm: hunger is her table; starvation, her knife; delay, her man; slowness, her maid; precipice, her threshold; care, her bed; burning anguish, the hangings of her apartments. one half of her body is livid, the other half the colour of human flesh.' with the scandinavian picture of the abode of death may be compared the description of the abode of nin-ki-gal, the assyrian queen of death, from a tablet in the british museum, translated by mr. fox talbot: [ ]-- to the house men enter--but cannot depart from: to the road men go--but cannot return. the abode of darkness and famine where earth is their food: their nourishment clay: light is not seen; in darkness they dwell: ghosts, like birds, flutter their wings there; on the door and the gate-posts the dust lies undisturbed. the semitic tribes, undisturbed, like the importers of their theology into the age of science, by the strata in which so many perished animal kingdoms are entombed, attributed all death, even that of animals, to the forbidden fruit. the rabbins say that not only adam and eve, but the animals in eden, partook of that fruit, and came under the power of sammaël the violent, and of his agent azraël, the demon of death. the phoenix, having refused this food, preserved the power of renovating itself. it is an example of the completeness and consistency with which a theory may organise its myth, that the fatal demons are generally represented as abhorring salt--the preserving agent and foe of decay. the 'covenant of salt' among the ancient jews probably had this significance, and the care with which job salted his sacrifice is considered elsewhere. aubrey says, 'toads (saturnine animals) are killed by putting salt upon them. i have seen the experiment.' the devil, as heir of death-demons, appears in all european folklore as a hater of salt. a legend, told by heine, relates that a knight, wandering in a wood in italy, came upon a ruin, and in it a wondrous statue of the goddess of beauty. completely fascinated, the knight haunted the spot day after day, until one evening he was met by a servant who invited him to enter a villa which he had not before remarked. what was his surprise to be ushered into the presence of the living image of his adored statue! amid splendour and flowers the enraptured knight is presently seated with his charmer at a banquet. every luxury of the world is there; but there is no salt! when he hints this want a cloud passes over the face of his beauty. presently he asks the servant to bring the salt; the servant does so, shuddering; the knight helps himself to it. the next sip of wine he takes elicits a cry from him: it is liquid fire. madness seizes upon him; caresses, burning kisses follow, until he falls asleep on the bosom of his goddess. but what visions! now he sees her as a wrinkled crone, next a great bat bearing a torch as it flutters around him, and again as a frightful monster, whose head he cuts off in an agony of terror. when the knight awakes it is in his own villa. he hastens to his ruin, and to the beloved statue; he finds her fallen from the pedestal, and the beautiful head cut from the neck lying at her feet. the semitic angel of death is a figure very different from any that we have considered. he is known in theology only in the degradation which he suffered at the hands of the rabbins, but originally was an awful but by no means evil genius. the persians probably imported him, under the name of asuman, for we do not find him mentioned in their earlier books, and the name has a resemblance to the hebrew shamad, to exterminate, which would connect it with the biblical 'destroyer' abaddon. this is rendered more probable because the zoroastrians believed in an earlier demon, vízaresha, who carried souls after death to the region of deva-worshippers (india). the chaldaic angel of death, malk-ad mousa, may have derived his name from the legend of his having approached moses with the object of forcing his soul out of his body, but, being struck by the glory of moses' face, and by virtue of the divine name on his rod, was compelled to retire. the legend is not so ancient as the name, and was possibly a saga suggested by the name; it is obviously the origin of the tradition of the struggle between michael and satan for the body of moses (jude .). this personification had thus declined among the jews into being evil enough to be identified with samaël,--who, in the book of the assumption of moses, is named as his assailant,--and subsequently with satan himself, named in connection with the new testament version. it was on account of this degradation of a being described in the earlier books of the bible as the commissioner of jehovah that there was gradually developed among the jews two angels of death, one (samaël, or his agent azraël) for those who died out of the land of israel, and the other (gabriel) for those who had the happier lot of dying in their own country. this relegation of samaël to the wandering jews--who if they died abroad were not supposed to reach paradise with facility, if at all--is significant. for samaël is pretty certainly a conception borrowed from outlying semitic tribes. what that conception was we find in job xviii. , where he is 'the king of terrors,' and still more in the arabic azraël. the legend of this typical angel of death is that he was promoted to his high office for special service. when allah was about to create man he sent the angels gabriel, michael, and israfil to the earth to bring clay of different colours for that purpose; but the earth warned them that the being about to be formed would rebel against his creator and draw down a curse upon her (the earth), and they returned without bringing the clay. then azraël was sent by allah, and he executed his commission without fear; and for this he was appointed the angel to separate souls from bodies. azraël had subordinate angels under him, and these are alluded to in the opening lines of the sura of the koran: by the angels who tear forth the souls of some with violence; and by those who draw forth the souls of others with gentleness. the souls of the righteous are drawn forth with gentleness, those of the wicked torn from them in the way shown in the russian picture (fig. ), which is indeed an illustration of the same mythology. these terrible tasks were indeed such as were only too likely to bring azraël into the evil repute of an executioner in the course of time; but no degradation of him seems to have been developed among the moslems. he seems to have been associated in their minds with fate, and similar stories were told of him. thus it is related that once when azraël was passing by solomon he gazed intently upon a man with whom solomon was conversing. solomon told his companion that it was the angel of death who was looking at him, and the man replied, 'he seems to want me: order the wind to carry me from hence into india;' when this was done azraël approached solomon and said, 'i looked earnestly at that man from wonder, for i was commanded to take his soul in india.' [ ] azraël was often represented as presenting to the lips a cup of poison. it is probable that this image arose from the ancient ordeal by poison, whereby draughts, however manipulated beforehand with reference to the results, were popularly held to be divinely mingled for retributive or beneficent effects. 'cup' thus became among semitic tribes a symbol of fate. the 'cup of consolation,' 'cup of wrath,' 'cup of trembling,' which we read of in the old testament; the 'cup of blessing,' and 'cup of devils,' spoken of by paul, have this significance. the cup of nestor, ornamented with the dove (iliad, xi. ), was probably a 'cup of blessing,' and mr. schliemann has found several of the same kind at mycenæ. the symbol was repeatedly used by christ,--'let this cup pass from me,' 'the cup that my father hath given me to drink shall i not drink it,' 'are ye able to drink of the cup that i drink of,'--and the familiar association of azraël's cup is expressed in the phrase 'taste of death.' one of the most pleasing modifications of the belief in the angel of death is that found by lepsius [ ] among the mohammedan negroes of kordofan. osraîn (azraël), it is said, receives the souls of the dead, and leads the good to their reward, the bad to punishment. 'he lives in a tree, el segerat mohana (the tree of fulfilling), which has as many leaves as there are inhabitants in the world. on each leaf is a name, and when a child is born a new one grows. if any one becomes ill his leaf fades, and should he be destined to die, osraîn breaks it off. formerly he used to come visibly to those whom he was going to carry away, and thus put them in great terror. since the prophet's time, however, he has become invisible; for when he came to fetch mohammed's soul he told him that it was not good that by his visible appearance he should frighten mankind. they might then easily die of terror, before praying; for he himself, although a courageous and spirited man, was somewhat perturbed at his appearance. therefore the prophet begged god to make osraîn invisible, which prayer was granted.' mr. mackenzie adds on this that, among the moravian jews, at new moon a branch is held in its light, and the name of a person pronounced: his face will appear between the horns of the moon, and should he be destined to die the leaves will fade. mr. john ruskin has been very severe upon the italians for the humour with which they introduce death as a person of their masque. 'when i was in venice in ,' he says, 'the most popular piece of the comic opera was "death and the cobbler," in which the point of the plot was the success of a village cobbler as a physician, in consequence of the appearance of death to him beside the bed of every patient who was not to recover; and the most applauded scene in it was one in which the physician, insolent in success, and swollen with luxury, was himself taken down into the abode of death, and thrown into an agony of terror by being shown lives of men, under the form of wasting lamps, and his own ready to expire.' on which he expresses the opinion that 'this endurance of fearful images is partly associated with indecency, partly with general fatuity and weakness of mind.' [ ] but may it not rather be the healthy reaction from morbid images of terror, with which a purely natural and inevitable event has so long been invested by priests, and portrayed in such popular pictures as 'the dance of death?' the mocking laughter with which the skeletons beset the knight in our picture (fig. ), from the wall of la chaise dieu, auvergne, marks the priestly terrorism, which could not fail to be vulgarised even more by the frivolous. in there was a masquerade of the dance of death in the cemetery of the innocents at paris, attended by the duke of bedford and the duke of burgundy, just returned from battle. it may have been the last outcome in the west of kali's dance over the slain; but it is fortunate when fanaticism has no worse outcome than folly. the skeleton death has the advantage over earlier forms of suggesting the naturalness of death. it is more scientific. the gradual discovery by the people that death is not caused by sin has largely dissipated its horrors in regions where the ignorance and impostures of priestcraft are of daily observation; and although the reaction may not be expressed with good taste, there would seem to be in it a certain vigour of nature, reasserting itself in simplicity. in the northern world we are all too sombre in the matter. it is the ages of superstition which have moulded our brains, and too generally given to our natural love of life the unnatural counterpart of a terror of death. what has been artificially bred into us can be cultivated out of us. there are indeed deaths corresponding to the two angels--the death that comes by lingering disease and pain, and that which comes by old age. there are indeed azraëls in our cities who poison the food and drink of the people, and mingle death in the cup of water; and of them there should be increasing horror until the gentler angel abides with us, and death by old age becomes normal. the departure from life being a natural condition of entering upon it, it is melancholy indeed that it should be ideally confused with the pains and sorrows often attending it. it is fabled that menippus the cynic, travelling through hades, knew which were the kings there by their howling louder than the rest. they howled loudest because they had parted from most pleasures on earth. but all the happy and young have more reason to lament untimely death than kings. the only tragedy of death is the ruin of living love. mr. watts, in his great picture of love and death (grosvenor gallery, ), revealed the real horror. not that skeleton which has its right time and place, not the winged demon (called angel), who has no right time or place, is here, but a huge, hard, heartless form, as of man half-blocked out of marble; a terrible emblem of the remorseless force that embodies the incompleteness and ignorance of mankind--a force that steadily crushes hearts where intellects are devoting their energies to alien worlds. poor love has little enough science; his puny arm stretched out to resist the colossal form is weak as the prayers of agonised parents and lovers directed against never-swerving laws; he is almost exhausted; his lustrous wings are broken and torn in the struggle; the dove at his feet crouches mateless; the rose that climbed on his door is prostrate; over his shoulder the beam-like arm has set the stony hand against the door where the rose of joy must fall. the aged when they die do but follow the treasures that have gone before. one by one the old friends have left them, the sweet ties parted, and the powers to enjoy and help become feeble. when of the garden that once bloomed around them memory alone is left, friendly is death to scatter also the leaves of that last rose where the loved ones are sleeping. this is the real office of death. nay, even when it comes to the young and happy it is not death but disease that is the real enemy; in disease there is almost no compensation at all but learning its art of war; but death is nature's pity for helpless pain; where love and knowledge can do no more it comes as a release from sufferings which were sheer torture if prolonged. the presence of death is recognised oftenest by the cessation of pain. superstition has done few heavier wrongs to humanity than by the mysterious terrors with which it has invested that change which, to the simpler ages, was pictured as the gentle river lethe, flowing from the abode of sleep, from which the shades drank oblivion alike of their woes and of the joys from which they were torn. part iii. the dragon. chapter i. decline of demons. the holy tree of travancore--the growth of demons in india and their decline--the nepaul iconoclast--moral man and unmoral nature--man's physical and mental migrations--heine's 'gods in exile'--the goban saor--master smith--a greek caricature of the gods--the carpenter v. deity and devil--extermination of the werewolf--refuges of demons--the giants reduced to little people--deities and demons returning to nature. having indicated, necessarily in mere outline and by selected examples, the chief obstacles encountered by primitive man, and his apprehensions, which he personified as demons, it becomes my next task to show how and why many of these demons declined from their terrible proportions and made way for more general forms, expressing comparatively abstract conceptions of physical evil. this will involve some review of the processes through which man's necessary adaptation to his earthly environment brought him to the era of combat with multiform obstruction. there was, until within a few recent years, in a mountain of travancore, india, an ancient, gigantic tree, regarded by the natives as the residence of a powerful and dangerous deity who reigned over the mountains and the wild beasts. [ ] sacrifices were offered to this tree, sermons preached before it, and it seems to have been the ancient cathedral of the district. its trunk was so large that four men with outstretched arms could not compass it. this tree in its early growth may symbolise the upspringing of natural religion. its first green leaves may be regarded as corresponding to the first crude imaginations of man as written, for instance, on leaves of the vedas. perceiving in nature, as we have seen, a power of contrivance like his own, a might far superior to his own, man naturally considered that all things had been created and were controlled by invisible giants; and bowing helplessly beneath them sang thus his hymns and supplications. 'this earth belongs to varuna, the king, and the wide sky, with its ends far apart: the two seas (sky and ocean) are varuna's loins; he is also contained in this drop of water. he who would flee far beyond the sky even he would not be rid of varuna. his spies proceed from heaven towards this earth.' 'through want of strength, thou ever strong and bright god, have i gone wrong: have mercy, have mercy!' 'however we break thy laws from day to day, men as we are, o god varuna, do not deliver us to death!' 'was it an old sin, varuna, that thou wished to destroy the friend who always praises thee!' 'o indra, have mercy, give me my daily bread! raise up wealth to the worshipper, thou mighty dawn!' 'thou art the giver of horses, indra, thou art the giver of cows, the giver of corn, the strong lord of wealth: the old guide of man disappointing no desires: to him we address this song. all this wealth around here is known to be thine alone: take from it conqueror, bring it hither!' in these characteristic sentences from various hymns we behold man making his first contract with the ruling powers of nature: so much adoration and flattery on his part for so much benefit on theirs. but even in these earliest hymns there are intimations that the gods were not fulfilling their side of the engagement. 'why is it,' pleads the worshipper, 'that you wish to destroy one who always praises you? was it an old sin?' the simple words unconsciously report how faithfully man was performing his part of the contract. having omitted no accent of the prayer, praise, or ritual, he supposes the continued indifference of the gods must be due to an old sin, one he has forgotten, or perhaps one committed by some ancestor. in this state of mind the suggestion would easily take root that words alone were too cheap to be satisfactory to the gods. there must be offerings. like earthly kings they must have their revenues. we thus advance to the phase of sacrifices. but still neither in answer to prayer, flattery, or sacrifice did the masses receive health or wealth. poverty, famine, death, still continued their remorseless course with the silent machinery of sun, moon, and star. but why, then, should man have gone on fulfilling his part of the contract--believing and worshipping deities, who when he begged for corn gave him famine, and when he asked for fish gave him a serpent? the priest intervened with ready explanation. and here we may consult the holy tree of travancore again? why should that particular tree--of a species common in the district and not usually very large--have grown so huge? 'because it is holy,' said the priest. 'because it was believed holy,' says the fact. for ages the blood and ashes of victims fed its roots and swelled its trunk; until, by an argument not confined to india, the dimensions of the superstition were assumed to prove its truth. when the people complained that all their offerings and worship did not bring any returns the priest replied, you stint the gods and they stint you. the people offered the fattest of their flocks and fruits: more yet! said the priest. they built fine altars and temples for the gods: more yet! said the priest. they built fine houses for the priests, and taxed themselves to support them. and when thus, fed by popular sacrifices and toils, the religion had grown to vast power, the priest was able to call to his side the theologian for further explanation. the theologian and the priest said--'of course there must be good reasons why the gods do not answer all your prayers (if they did not answer some you would be utterly consumed); mere mortals must not dare to inquire into their mysteries; but that there are gods, and that they do attend to human affairs, is made perfectly plain by this magnificent array of temples, and by the care with which they have supplied all the wants of us, their particular friends, whose cheeks, as you see, hang down with fatness.' if, after this explanation, any scepticism or rebellion arose among the less favoured, the priest might easily add--'furthermore, we and our temples are now institutions; we are so strong and influential that it is evident that the gods have appointed us to be their representatives on earth, the dispensers of their favours. also, of their disfavours. we are able to make up for the seeming indifference of the gods, rewarding you if you give us honour and wealth, but ruining you if you turn heretical.' so grew the holy tree. but strong as it was there was something stronger. some few years ago a missionary from london went to travancore, and desired to build a chapel near the same tree, no doubt to be in the way of its worshippers and to borrow some of the immemorial sanctity of the spot. this missionary fixed a hungry eye upon that holy timber, and reflected how much holier it would be if ending its career in the beams of a christian chapel. so one day--english authorities being conveniently near--he and his workmen began to cut down the sacred tree. the natives gradually gathered around, and looked on with horror. while the cutting proceeded a tiger drew near, but shouts drove him off: the natives breathed freer; the demon had come and looked on, but could not protect the tree from the englishman. they still shuddered, however, at the sacrilege, and when at last the holy tree of travancore fell, its crash was mingled with the cries and screams of its former worshippers. the victorious missionary may be pointing out in his chapel the cut-up planks which reveal the impotence of the deity so long feared by the natives; and perhaps he is telling them of the bigness of his tree, and claiming its flourishing condition in europe as proof of its supernatural character. possibly he may omit to mention the blood and ashes which have fattened the root and enlarged the trunk of his holy tree! that tree in travancore could never have been so destroyed if the primitive natural religion in which lay its deeper root had not previously withered. the gods, the natural forces, which through so many ages had not heeded man's daily martyrdoms, had now for a long time been shown quite as impotent to protect their own shrines, images, holy trees, and other interests. the priests as vainly invoked those gods to save their own country from subjugation by other nations with foreign gods, as the masses had invoked their personal aid. for a long time the gods in some parts of india have received only a formal service, coextensive with their association with a lingering order, or as part of princely establishments; but they topple down from time to time, as the masses realise their freedom to abandon them with impunity. they are at the mercy of any strong heretic who arises. the following narrative, quoted by mr. herbert spencer, presents a striking example of what some hindoos had been doing before the missionary cut down the tree at travancore:-- 'a nepaul king, rum bahâdur, whose beautiful queen, finding her lovely face had been disfigured by smallpox, poisoned herself, cursed his kingdom, her doctors, and the gods of nepaul, vowing vengeance on all. having ordered the doctors to be flogged, and the right ear and nose of each to be cut off, he then wreaked his vengeance on the gods of nepaul, and after abusing them in the most gross way, he accused them of having obtained from him , goats, some hundred-weights of sweetmeats, gallons of milk, &c., under false pretences. he then ordered all the artillery, varying from three to twelve-pounders, to be brought in front of the palace. all the guns were then loaded to the muzzle, and down he marched to the headquarters of the nepaul deities. all the guns were drawn up in front of the several deities, honouring the most sacred with the heaviest metal. when the order to fire was given, many of the chiefs and soldiers ran away panic-stricken, and others hesitated to obey the sacrilegious order; and not till several gunners had been cut down were the guns opened. down came the gods and the goddesses from their hitherto sacred positions; and after six hours' heavy cannonading, not a vestige of the deities remained.' however panic-stricken the nepaulese may have been at this ferocious manifestation, it was but a storm bred out of a more general mental and moral condition. rum bahâdur only laid low in a few moments images of gods who, passing from the popular interest, had been successively laid to sleep on the innumerable shelves of hindu mythology. the early dualism was developed into moral man on one side, and unmoral nature on the other. man had discovered that moral order in nature was represented solely by his own power: by his culture or neglect the plant or animal grew or withered, and where his control did not extend, there sprang the noxious weed or beast. so far as good gods had been imagined they were respected now only as incarnate in men. but the active powers of evil still remained, hurtful and hateful to man, and the pessimist view of nature became inevitable. to man engaged in his life-and-death struggle with nature many a beauty which now nourishes the theist's optimism was lost. the fragrant flower was a weed to the man hungry for bread, and he viewed many an idle treasure with the disappointment of sâdi when, travelling in the desert, he found a bag in which he hoped to discover grain, but found only pearls. fatal to every deity not anthropomorphic was the long pessimistic phase of human faith. each became more purely a demon, and passed on the road to become a devil. many particular demons man conquered as he progressively carried order amid the ruggedness and wildness of his planet. every new weapon or implement he invented punctured a thousand phantoms. only in the realms he could not yet conquer remained the hostile forces to which he ascribed præternatural potency, because not able to pierce them and see through them. nevertheless, the early demonic forms had to give way, for man had discovered that they were not his masters. he could cut down the upas and root up the nightshade; he had bruised many a serpent's head and slain many a wolf. in detail innumerable enemies had been proved his inferiors in strength and intelligence. important migrations took place: man passes, geographically, away from the region of some of his worst enemies, inhabits countries more fruitful, less malarious, his habitat exceeding that of his animal foe in range; and, still better, he passes by mental migration out of the stone age, out of other helpless ages, to the age of metal and the skill to fashion and use it. he has made the fire-fiend his friend. no longer henceforth a naked savage, with bit of stone or bone only to meet the crushing powers of the world and win its reluctant supplies! there is a sense far profounder than its charming play of fancy in heine's account of the 'gods in exile,' an essay which mr. pater well describes as 'full of that strange blending of sentiment which is characteristic of the traditions of the middle age concerning the pagan religions.' [ ] heine writes: 'let me briefly remind the reader how the gods of the older world, at the time of the definite triumph of christianity, that is, in the third century, fell into painful embarrassments, which greatly resembled certain tragical situations of their earlier life. they now found themselves exposed to the same troublesome necessities to which they had once before been exposed during the primitive ages, in that revolutionary epoch when the titans broke out of the custody of orcus, and, piling pelion on ossa, scaled olympus. unfortunate gods! they had, then, to take flight ignominiously, and hide themselves among us here on earth under all sorts of disguises. most of them betook themselves to egypt, where for greater security they assumed the form of animals, as is generally known. just in the same way they had to take flight again, and seek entertainment in remote hiding-places, when those iconoclastic zealots, the black brood of monks, broke down all the temples, and pursued the gods with fire and curses. many of these unfortunate emigrants, entirely deprived of shelter and ambrosia, had now to take to vulgar handicrafts as a means of earning their bread. in these circumstances, many, whose sacred groves had been confiscated, let themselves out for hire as wood-cutters in germany, and had to drink beer instead of nectar. apollo seems to have been content to take service under graziers, and as he had once kept the cows of admetus, so he lived now as a shepherd in lower austria. here, however, having become suspected, on account of his beautiful singing, he was recognised by a learned monk as one of the old pagan gods, and handed over to the spiritual tribunal. on the rack he confessed that he was the god apollo; and before his execution he begged that he might be suffered to play once more upon the lyre and to sing a song. and he played so touchingly, and sang with such magic, and was withal so beautiful in form and feature that all the women wept, and many of them were so deeply impressed that they shortly afterwards fell sick. and some time afterwards the people wished to drag him from the grave again, that a stake might be driven through his body, in the belief that he had been a vampire, and that the sick women would by this means recover. but they found the grave empty.' naturally: it is hard to bury apollo. the next time he appeared was, no doubt, as musical director in the nearest cathedral. the young singers and artists discovered by such severe lessons that it was dangerous to sing pagan ballads too realistically; that a cowl is capable of a high degree of decoration; that pan's pipe sounds well evolved into an organ; that cupids look just as well if called cherubs. it is odd that it should have required robert browning three centuries away to detect the real form and face beneath the vestment of the bishop who orders his tomb at saint praxed's church:-- the bas-relief in bronze ye promised me, those pans and nymphs ye wot of, and perchance some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so, the saviour at his sermon on the mount, saint praxed in a glory, and one pan ready to twitch the nymph's last garment off, and moses with the tables.... so in one direction grew the hermitage to the vatican; so zeus regained his throne by exchanging his thunderbolts for peter's keys, and mars regained his steed as st. george, and hercules as christ wrestles with death once more. but while these artificial restorations were going on in one direction, in another some of the gods were passing through many countries, outwitting and demolishing their former selves as lowered to demons. there are many legends which report this strange phase of development, one of the finest being that of the goban saor, told by mr. kennedy. the king of munster sent for this wonderful craftsman to build him a castle. the goban could fashion a spear with three strokes of his hammer--st. patrick, who found the trinity in the shamrock, may have determined the number of strokes,--and when he wished to drive in nails high up, had only to throw his hammer at them. on his way to work for the king, goban, accompanied by his son, passed the night at the house of a farmer, whose daughters--one dark and industrious, the other fair and idle--received from him (goban) three bits of advice: 'always have the head of an old woman by the hob; warm yourselves with your work in the morning; and some time before i come back take the skin of a newly-killed sheep to the market, and bring itself and the price of it home again.' as goban, with his son, journeyed on, they found a poor man vainly trying to roof his house with three joists and mud; and by simply making one end of each joist rest on the middle of another, the other ends being on the wall, the structure was perfect. he relieved puzzled carpenters by putting up for them the pegless and nailless bridge described in cæsar's commentaries. having done various great things, goban returns to the homestead of the girls who had received his three bits of advice. the idle one had, of course, blundered at each point, and been ridiculed in the market for her proposition to bring back the sheep's skin and its price. the other, by kindly taking in an aged female relative, by working till she was warm, and by plucking and selling the wool of the sheep's skin and bringing home the latter, had obeyed the goban's advice, and was selected as his daughter-in-law--the prince attending the wedding. now, as to building the castle, goban knew that the king had employed on previous castles four architects and then slain them, so that they should never build another palace equal to his. he therefore says he has left at home a necessary implement which his wife will only give to himself or one of royal blood. the king sends his son, who is kept as hostage till the husband's safe return. this is the master smith of norse fable, who has a chair from which none can rise, and who therein binds the devil; which again is the story of hephaistos, and the chair in which he entrapped hera until she revealed the secret of his birth. the 'devil' whom the master smith entraps is, in norse mythology, simply loki: and as loki is a degraded hephaistos, fire in its demonic forms, we have in all these legends the fire-fiend fought with fire. this re-dualisation of the gods into demonic and saintly forms had a long preparation. the forces that brought it about may be seen already beginning in hesiod's representations of the gods, in their presentation on the stage by euripides, in a manner certain to demonise them to the vulgar, and to subject them to such laughter among scholars as still rings across the ages in the divine dialogues of lucian. what the gods had become to the lucians before they reached the heines may be gathered from the accompanying caricature (fig. ). [ ] nothing can be more curious than the encounters of the gods with their dead selves, their manes. what unconscious ingenuity in the combinations! st. martin on his grey steed divides with the beggar the cloud-cloak of wodan on his black horse, treading down just such paupers in his wild hunt; as saint he now shelters those whom as storm-demon he chilled; but the identity of junker martin is preserved in both titles and myths, and the martinhorns (cakes), twisted after fashion of the horns of goat or buck pursued by wodan, are deemed potent like horse-shoes to defend house or stable from the outlawed god. [ ] the more impressive and attractive myths transferred to christian saints--as the flowers sacred to freyja became our lady's-glove, or slipper, or smock--there remained to the old gods, in their own name, only the repulsive and puerile, and by this means they were doomed at once to become unmitigated knaves and fools. if titans, jötunn or jinni, they were giant humbugs, whom any small hans or jack might outwit and behead. our fairy lore is full of stories which show that in the north as well as in latin countries there had already been a long preparation for the contempt poured by christianity upon the norse deities. many of the stories, as they now stand in folktales, speak of the vanquished demon or giant as the devil, but it is perfectly easy to detach the being meant from the name so indiscriminately bestowed by christian priests upon most of the outlawed deities. in lithuania, where survived too much reverence for some of the earlier deities to admit of their being identified with the devil, we still find them triumphed over by the wit and skill of the artisan. such is the case in a favourite popular legend of that country in which perkunas--the ancient thunder-god, corresponding to perun in russia--is involved in disgrace along with the devil by the sagacity and skill of a carpenter. the aged god, the venerable devil, and the young carpenter, united for a journey. perkun kept the beasts off with thunder and lightning, the devil hunted up food, the carpenter cooked. at length they built a hut and lived in it, and planted the ground with vegetables. presently a thief invaded their garden. perkun and the devil successively tried to catch him, but were well thrashed; whereas the carpenter by playing the fiddle fascinated the thief, who was a witch, a hag whose hand the fiddler managed to get into a split tree (under pretence of giving her a music lesson), holding her there till she gave up her iron waggon and the whip which she had used on his comrades. after this the three, having decided to separate, disputed as to which should have the hut; and they finally agreed that it should be the possession of him who should succeed in frightening the two others. the devil raised a storm which frightened perkun, and perkun with his thunder and lightning frightened the devil; but the carpenter held out bravely, and, in the middle of the night, came in with the witch's waggon, and, cracking her whip, the devil and perkun both took flight, leaving the carpenter in possession of the hut. [ ] so far as perkun is concerned, and may be regarded as representative of the gods, the hut may be symbol of europe, and the carpenter type of the power which conquered all that was left of them after their fair or noble associations had been transferred to christian forms. somewhat later, the devil was involved in a like fate, as we shall have to consider in a future chapter. the most horrible superstitions, if tracked in their popular development, reveal with special impressiveness the progressive emancipation of man from the phantasms of ferocity which represented his primal helplessness. the universal werewolf superstition, for instance, drew its unspeakable horrors from deep and wide-spreading roots. originating, probably, in occasional relapses to cannibalism among tribes or villages which found themselves amid circumstances as urgent as those which sometimes lead a wrecked crew to draw lots which shall die to support the rest, it would necessarily become demonised by the necessity of surrounding cannibalism with dangers worse than starvation. but it would seem that individuals are always liable, by arrest of development which usually takes the form of disease or insanity, to be dragged back to the savage condition of their race. in the course of this dark history, we note first an increasing tendency to show the means of the transformation difficult. in the volsunga saga it is by simply putting on a 'wolf-shirt' (wolfskin) that a man may become a wolf. then it is said it is done by a belt made of the skin of a man who has been hung--all executed persons being sacred to wodan (because not dying a natural death), to whom also the wolf was sacred. then it is added, that the belt must be marked with the signs of the zodiac, and have a buckle with seven teeth. then it is said that 'only a seventh son' is possessed of this diabolical power; or others say one whose brows meet over his nose. the means of detecting werewolves and retransforming them to human shape multiplied as those of transformation diminished in number, and such remedies reflected the advance of human skill. the werewolf could be restored by crossing his path with a knife or polished steel; by a sword laid on the ground with point towards him; by a silver ball. human skill was too much for him. in posen mothers had discovered that one who had bread in his or her mouth could by even such means discover werewolves; and fathers, to this hint about keeping 'the wolf from the door,' added that no one could be attacked by any such monster if he were in a cornfield. the slav levelled a plough at him. thus by one prescription and another, and each representing a part of man's victory over chaos, the werewolf was driven out of all but a few 'unlucky' days in the year, and especially found his last refuge in twelfth night. but even on that night the werewolf might be generally escaped by the simple device of not speaking of him. if a wolf had to be spoken of he was then called vermin, and dr. wuttke mentions a parish priest named wolf in east prussia who on twelfth night was addressed as mr. vermin! the actual wolf being already out of the forests in most places by art of the builder and the architect; the phantasmal wolf driven out of fear for most of the year by man's recognition of his own superiority to this exterminated beast; even the proverbial 'ears' of the vanishing werewolf ceased to be visible when on his particular fest-night his name was not mentioned. the last execution of a man for being an occasional werewolf was, i believe, in , near cologne, there being some evidence of cannibalism. but nine years later, in france, where the belief in the loup-garou had been intense, a man so accused was simply shut up in a mad-house. it is an indication of the revolution which has occurred, that when next governments paid attention to werewolves it was because certain vagabonds went about professing to be able to transform themselves into wolves, in order to extort money from the more weak-minded and ignorant peasants. [ ] there could hardly be conceived a more significant history: the werewolf leaves where he entered. of ignorance and weakness trying, too often in vain, 'to keep the wolf from the door,' was born this voracious phantom; with the beggar and vagabond, survivals of helplessness become inveterate, he wanders thin and crafty. he keeps out of the way of all culture, whether of field or mind. so is it indeed with all demons in decline--of which i can here only adduce a few characteristic examples. so runs the rune-- when the barley there is, then the devils whistle; when the barley is threshed, then the devils whine; when the barley is ground, then the devils roar; when the flour is produced, then the devils perish. the old scottish custom, mentioned by sir walter scott, of leaving around each cultivated field an untilled fringe, called the gude man's croft, is derived from the ancient belief that unless some wild place is left to the sylvan spirits they will injure the grain and vegetables; and, no doubt, some such notion leads the farmers of thurgau still to graft mistletoe upon their fruit-trees. many who can smile at such customs do yet preserve in their own minds, or those of their servants or neighbours, crofts which the ploughshare of science is forbidden to touch, and where the præternatural troops still hide their shrivelled forms. but this wild girdle becomes ever narrower, and the images within it tend to blend with rustling leaf and straw, and the insects, and to be otherwise invisible, save to that second sight which is received from glam. as in some shadow-pantomime, the deities and demons pursue each other in endless procession, dropping down as awe-inspiring titans, vanishing as grotesque pigmies--vanishing beyond the lamp into nothingness! so came most of the monsters we have been describing--animals, volcanoes, icebergs, deserts, though they might be--by growing culture and mastery of nature to be called 'the little people;' and perhaps it is rather through pity than euphemism when they were so often called, as in ireland (duine matha), 'the good little people.' [ ] at every step in time or space back of the era of mechanic arts the little fairy gains in physical proportions. the house-spirits (domovoi) of russia are full-sized, shaggy human-shaped beings. in lithuania the corresponding phantoms (kaukas) average only a foot in height. the krosnyata, believed in by the slavs on the baltic coast, are similarly small; and by way of the kobolds, elves, fays, travelling westward, we find the size of such shapes diminishing, until warnings are given that the teeth must never be picked with a straw, that slender tube being a favourite residence of the elf! in bavaria a little red chafer with seven spots (coccinella septempunctata) is able to hold thor with his lightnings, and in other regions is a form of the goddess of love! [ ] our english name for the tiny beetle 'lady-bug' is derived from the latter notion; and mr. karl blind has expressed the opinion that our children's rune-- lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, thy house is on fire, thy children will roam-- is last echo of the eddaic prophecies of the destruction of the universe by the fire-fiend loki! [ ] such reductions of the ancient gods, demons, and terrors to tiny dimensions would, of course, be only an indirect result of the general cause stated. they were driven from the great world, and sought the small world: they survived in the hut and were adapted to the nerves of the nursery. so alone can tithonos live on: beyond the age for which he is born he shrinks to a grasshopper; and it is now by only careful listening that in the chirpings of the multitudinous immortals, of which tithonos is type, may be distinguished the thunders and roarings of deities and demons that once made the earth to tremble. chapter ii. generalisation of demons. the demons' bequest to their conquerors--nondescripts-- exaggerations of tradition--saurian theory of dragons-- the dragon not primitive in mythology--monsters of egyptian, iranian, vedic, and jewish mythologies--turner's dragon-- della bella--the conventional dragon. after all those brave victories of man over the first chaos, organic and inorganic, whose effect upon his phantasms has been indicated; after fire had slain its thousands, and iron its tens of thousands of his demons, and the rough artisan become a nemesis with his rudder and wheel pursuing the hosts of darkness back into night and invisibility; still stood the grim fact of manyformed pain and evil in the world, still defying the ascending purposes of mankind. moreover, confronting these, he is by no means so different mentally from that man he was before conquering many foes in detail, and laying their phantoms, as he was morally. more courage man had gained, and more defiance; and, intellectually, a step had been taken, if only one: he had learned that his evils are related to each other. hunger is of many heads and forms. its yawning throat may be seen in the brilliant sky that lasts till it is as brass, in the deluge, the earthquake, in claw and fang; and then these together do but relate the hunger-brood to fire and ferocity; the summer sunbeam may be venomous as a serpent, and the end of them all is death. some tendency to these more general conceptions of an opposing principle and power in the world seems to be represented in that phase of development at which nondescript forms arise. these were the conquered demons' bequest. it is, of course, impossible to measure the various forces which combined to produce the complex symbolical forms of physical evil. tradition is not always a good draughtsman, and in portraying for a distant generation in germany a big snake killed in india might not be exact as to the number of its heads or other details. heroes before falstaff were liable to overstate their foes in buckram. the less measurable a thing by fact, the more immense in fancy: werewolves of especial magnitude haunted regions where there had not been actual wolves for centuries; huge serpents play a large part in the annals of ireland, where not even the smallest have been found. but after all natural influences have been considered, one can hardly look upon the sphynx, the chimæra, or on a conventional dragon, without perceiving that he is in presence of a higher creation than a demonic bear or a giant ruffian. the fundamental difference between the two classes is that one is natural, the other præternatural. of course a werewolf is as præternatural as a gryphon to the eye of science, but as original expressions of human imagination the former could hardly have been a more miraculous monster than the siamese twins to intelligent people to-day. the demonic forms are generally natural, albeit caricatured or exaggerated. and this effort at a præternatural conception is, in this early form, by no means mere superstition; rather is it poetic and artistic,--a kind of crude effort at allgemeinheit, at realisation of the types of evil--the claw-principle, fang-principle in the universe, the physiognomies of venom and pain detached from forms to which they are accidental. some of the particular forms we have been considering are, indeed, by no means of the prosaic type. such conceptions as ráhu, cerberus, and several others, are transitional between the natural and mystical conceptions; while the sphynx, however complete a combination of ideal forms, is not all demonic. in this part iii. are included those forms whose combination is not found in objective nature, but which are yet travesties of nature and genuine fauna of the human mind. perhaps it may be thought somewhat arbitrary that i should describe all these intermediate forms between demon and devil by the term dragon; but i believe there is no other fabulous form which includes so many individual types of transition, or whose evolution may be so satisfactorily traced from the point where it is linked with the demon to that where it bequeathes its characters to the devil. while, however, this term is used as the best that suggests itself, it cannot be accepted as limiting our inquiry or excluding other abstract forms which ideally correspond to the dragon,--the generalised expression for an active, powerful, and intelligent enemy to mankind, a being who is antagonism organised, and able to command every weapon in nature for an antihuman purpose. the opinion has steadily gained that the conventional dragon is the traditional form of some huge saurian. it has been suggested that some of those extinct forms may have been contemporaneous with the earliest men, and that the traditions of conflicts with them, transmitted orally and pictorially, have resulted in preserving their forms in fable (proximately). the restorations of saurians on their islet at the crystal palace show how much common sense there is in this theory. the discoveries of professor marsh of yale college have proved that the general form of the dragon is startlingly prefigured in nature; and mr. alfred tylor, in an able paper read before the anthropological society, has shown that we are very apt to be on the safe side in sticking to the theory of an 'object-origin' for most things. concerning this theory, it may be said that the earliest descriptions, both written and pictorial, which have been discovered of the reptilian monsters around which grew the germs of our dragon-myths, are crocodiles or serpents, and not dragons of any conventional kind,--with a few doubtful exceptions. in an egyptian papyrus there is a hieroglyphic picture of san-nu hut-ur, 'plunger of the sea;' it is a marine, dolphin-like monster, with four feet, and a tail ending in a serpent's head. [ ] with wings, this might approach the dragon-form. again, amen-ra slew naka, and this serpent 'saved his feet.' possibly the phrase is ironical, and means that the serpent saved nothing; but apart from that, the poem is too highly metaphorical--the victorious god himself being described in it as a 'beautiful bull'--for the phrase to be important. on egyptian monuments are pictured serpents with human heads and members, and the serpent nahab-ka is pictured on amulets with two perfect human legs and feet. [ ] winged serpents are found on egyptian monuments, but almost as frequently with the incredible number of four as with the conceivable two wings of the pterodactyl. the forms of the serpents thus portrayed with anthropomorphic legs and slight wings are, in their main shapes, of ordinary species. in the iranian tradition of the temptation of the first man and woman, meschia and meschiane, by the 'two-footed serpent of lies.' and it is possible that out of this myth of the 'two-footed' serpent grew the puzzling legend of genesis that the serpent of eden was sentenced thereafter to crawl on his belly. the snake's lack of feet, however, might with equal probability have given rise to the explanation given in mussulman and rabbinical stories of his feet being cut off by the avenging angel. but the antiquity of the iranian myth is doubtful; while the superior antiquity of the hindu fable of ráhu, to which it seems related, suggests that the two legs of the ahriman serpent, like the four arms of serpent-tailed ráhu, is an anthropomorphic addition. in the ancient planispheres we find the 'crooked serpent' mentioned in the book of job, but no dragon. the two great monsters of vedic mythology, vritra and ahi, are not so distinguishable from each other in the vedas as in more recent fables. vritra is very frequently called vritra ahi--ahi being explained in the st. petersburg dictionary as 'the serpent of the heavens, the demon vritra.' ahi literally means 'serpent,' answering to the greek echi-s, echi-dna; and when anything is added it appears to be anthropomorphic--heads, arms, eyes--as in the case of the egyptian serpent-monsters. the vedic demon urana is described as having three heads, six eyes, and ninety-nine arms. there would appear to be as little reason for ascribing to the tannin of the old testament the significance of dragon, though it is generally so translated. it is used under circumstances which show it to mean whale, serpent, and various other beasts. jeremiah (xiv. ) compares them to wild asses snuffing the wind, and micah (i. ) describes their 'wailing.' the fiery serpents said to have afflicted israel in the wilderness are called seraphim, but neither in their natural or mythological forms do they anticipate our conventional dragon beyond the fiery character that is blended with the serpent character. nor do the descriptions of behemoth and leviathan comport with the dragon-form. the serpent as an animal is a consummate development. its feet, so far from having been amputated, as the fables say, in punishment of its sin, have been withdrawn beneath the skin as crutches used in a feebler period. it is found as a tertiary fossil. since, therefore, the dragon form ex hypothesi is a reminiscence of the huge, now fossil, saurians which preceded the serpent in time, the early mythologies could hardly have so regularly described great serpents instead of dragons. if the realistic theory we are discussing were true, the earliest combats--those of indra, for instance--ought to have been with dragons, and the serpent enemies would have multiplied as time went on; but the reverse is the case--the (alleged) extinct forms being comparatively modern in heroic legend. mr. john ruskin once remarked upon turner's picture of the dragon guarding the hesperides, that this conception so early as , when no saurian skeleton was within the artist's reach, presented a singular instance of the scientific imagination. as a coincidence with such extinct forms turner's dragon is surpassed by the monster on which a witch rides in one of the engravings of della bella, published in . in that year, on the occasion of the marriage of the grand duke ferdinand ii. in florence, there was a masque d'inferno, whose representations were engraved by della bella, of which this is one, so that it may be rather to some scenic artist than to the distinguished imitator of callot that we owe this grotesque form, which the late mr. wright said 'might have been borrowed from some distant geological period.' if so, the fact would present a curious coincidence with the true history of turner's dragon; for after mr. ruskin had published his remark about the scientific imagination represented in it, an old friend of the artist declared that turner himself had told him that he copied that dragon from a christmas spectacle in drury lane theatre. but turner had shown the truest scientific instinct in repairing to the fossil-beds of human imagination, and drawing thence the conventional form which never had existence save as the structure of cumulative tradition. chapter iii. the serpent. the beauty of the serpent--emerson on ideal forms--michelet's thoughts on the viper's head--unique characters of the serpent--the monkey's horror of snakes--the serpent protected by superstition--human defencelessness against its subtle powers--dubufe's picture of the fall of man. in the accompanying picture, a medal of the ancient city of tyre, two of the most beautiful forms of nature are brought together,--the serpent and the egg. mr. d. r. hay has shown the endless extent to which the oval arches have been reproduced in the ceramic arts of antiquity; and the same sense of symmetry which made the greek vase a combination of eggs prevails in the charm which the same graceful outline possesses wherever suggested,--as in curves of the swan, crescent of the moon, the elongated shell,--on which aphrodite may well be poised, since the same contours find their consummate expression in the flowing lines attaining their repose in the perfect form of woman. the serpent--model of the 'line of grace and beauty'--has had an even larger fascination for the eye of the artist and the poet. it is the one active form in nature which cannot be ungraceful, and to estimate the extent of its use in decoration is impossible, because all undulating and coiling lines are necessarily serpent forms. but in addition to the perfections of this form--which fulfil all the ascent of forms in swedenborg's mystical morphology, circular, spiral, perpetual-circular, vortical, celestial--the serpent bears on it, as it were, gems of the underworld that seem to find their counterpart in galaxies. one must conclude that serpent-worship is mainly founded in fear. the sacrifices offered to that animal are alone sufficient to prove this. but as it is certain that the serpent appears in symbolism and poetry in many ways which have little or no relation to its terrors, we may well doubt whether it may not have had a career in the human imagination previous to either of the results of its reign of terror,--worship and execration. it is the theory of pestalozzi that every child is born an artist, and through its pictorial sense must be led on its first steps of education. the infant world displayed also in its selection of sacred trees and animals a profound appreciation of beauty. the myths in which the serpent is represented as kakodemon refer rather to its natural history than to its appearance; and even when its natural history came to be observed, there was--there now is--such a wide discrepancy between its physiology and its functions, also between its intrinsic characters and their relation to man, that we can only accept its various aspects in mythology without attempting to trace their relative precedence in time. the past may in this case be best interpreted by the present. how different now to wise and observant men are the suggestions of this exceptional form in nature! let us read a passage concerning it from ralph waldo emerson:-- 'in the old aphorism, nature is always self-similar. in the plant, the eye or germinative point opens to a leaf, then to another leaf, with a power of transforming the leaf into radicle, stamen, pistil, petal, bract, sepal, or seed. the whole art of the plant is still to repeat leaf on leaf without end, the more or less of heat, light, moisture, and food, determining the form it shall assume. in the animal, nature makes a vertebra, or a spine of vertebræ, and helps herself still by a new spine, with a limited power of modifying its form,--spine on spine, to the end of the world. a poetic anatomist, in our own day, teaches that a snake being a horizontal line, and man being an erect line, constitute a right angle; and between the lines of this mystical quadrant, all animated beings find their place: and he assumes the hair-worm, the span-worm, or the snake, as the type or prediction of the spine. manifestly, at the end of the spine, nature puts out smaller spines, as arms; at the end of the arms, new spines, as hands; at the other end she repeats the process, as legs and feet. at the top of the column she puts out another spine, which doubles or loops itself over, as a span-worm, into a ball, and forms the skull, with extremities again: the hands being now the upper jaw, the feet the lower jaw, the fingers and toes being represented this time by upper and lower teeth. this new spine is destined to high uses. it is a new man on the shoulders of the last.' [ ] as one reads this it might be asked, how could its idealism be more profoundly pictured for the eye than in the serpent coiled round the egg,--the seed out of which all these spines must branch out for their protean variations? what refrains of ancient themes subtly sound between the lines,--from the serpent doomed to crawl on its belly in the dust, to the serpent that is lifted up! now let us turn to the page of jules michelet, and read what the serpent signified to one mood of his sympathetic nature. 'it was one of my saddest hours when, seeking in nature a refuge from thoughts of the age, i for the first time encountered the head of the viper. this occurred in a valuable museum of anatomical imitations. the head marvellously imitated and enormously enlarged, so as to remind one of the tiger's and the jaguar's, exposed in its horrible form a something still more horrible. you seized at once the delicate, infinite, fearfully prescient precautions by which the deadly machine is so potently armed. not only is it provided with numerous keen-edged teeth, not only are these teeth supplied with an ingenious reservoir of poison which slays immediately, but their extreme fineness which renders them liable to fracture is compensated by an advantage that perhaps no other animal possesses, namely, a magazine of supernumerary teeth, to supply at need the place of any accidentally broken. oh, what provisions for killing! what precautions that the victim shall not escape! what love for this horrible creature! i stood by it scandalised, if i may so speak, and with a sick soul. nature, the great mother, by whose side i had taken refuge, shocked me with a maternity so cruelly impartial. gloomily i walked away, bearing on my heart a darker shadow than rested on the day itself, one of the sternest in winter. i had come forth like a child; i returned home like an orphan, feeling the notion of a providence dying away within me.' [ ] many have so gone forth and so returned; some to say, 'there is no god;' a few to say (as is reported of a living poet), 'i believe in god, but am against him;' but some also to discern in the viper's head nature's ironclad, armed with her best science to defend the advance of form to humanity along narrow passes. the primitive man was the child that went forth when his world was also a child, and when the serpent was still doing its part towards making him and it a man. it was a long way from him to the dragon-slayer; but it is much that he did not merely cower; he watched and observed, and there is not one trait belonging to his deadly crawling contemporaries that he did not note and spiritualise in such science as was possible to him. the last-discovered of the topes in india represents serpent-worshippers gathered around their deity, holding their tongues with finger and thumb. no living form in nature could be so fitly regarded in that attitude. not only is the serpent normally silent, but in its action it has 'the quiet of perfect motion.' the maximum of force is shown in it, relatively to its size, along with the minimum of friction and visible effort. footless, wingless, as a star, its swift gliding and darting is sometimes like the lightning whose forked tongue it seemed to incarnate. the least touch of its ingenious tooth is more destructive than the lion's jaw. what mystery in its longevity, in its self-subsistence, in its self-renovation! out of the dark it comes arrayed in jewels, a crawling magazine of death in its ire, in its unknown purposes able to renew its youth, and fable for man imperishable life! wonderful also are its mimicries. it sometimes borrows colours of the earth on which it reposes, the trees on which it hangs, now seems covered with eyes, and the 'spectacled snake' appeared to have artificially added to its vision. altogether it is unique among natural forms, and its vast history in religious speculation and mythology does credit to the observation of primitive man. recent experiments have shown the monkeys stand in the greatest terror of snakes. such terror is more and more recognised as a survival in the european man. the serpent is almost the only animal which can follow a monkey up a tree and there attack its young. our arboreal anthropoid progenitors could best have been developed in some place naturally enclosed and fortified, as by precipices which quadrupeds could not scale, but which apes might reach by swinging and leaping from trees. but there could be no seclusion where the serpent could not follow. i am informed by the king of bonny that in his region of africa the only serpent whose worship is fully maintained is the nomboh (leaper), a small snake, white and glistening, whose bite is fatal, and which, climbing into trees, springs thence upon its prey beneath, and can travel far by leaping from branch to branch. the first arboreal man who added a little to the natural defences of any situation might stand in tradition as a god planting a garden; but even he would not be supposed able to devise any absolute means of defence against the subtlest of all the beasts. among the three things solomon found too wonderful for him was 'the way of a serpent upon a rock' (prov. xxx. ). this comparative superiority of the serpent to any and all devices and contrivances known to primitive men--whose proverbs must have made most of solomon's wisdom--would necessarily have its effect upon the animal and mental nerves of our race in early times, and the serpent would find in his sanctity a condition favourable to survival and multiplication. it is this fatal power of superstition to change fancies into realities which we find still protecting the serpent in various countries. from being venerated as the arbiter of life and death, it might thus actually become such in large districts of country. in dubufe's picture of the fall of man, the wrath of jehovah is represented by the lightning, which has shattered the tree beneath which the offending pair are now crouching; beyond it satan is seen in human shape raising his arm in proud defiance against the blackened sky. so would the serpent appear. his victims were counted by many thousands where the lightning laid low one. transmitted along the shuddering nerves of many generations came the confession of the son of sirach, 'there is no head above the head of a serpent.' chapter iv. the worm. an african serpent-drama in america--the veiled serpent--the ark of the covenant--aaron's rod--the worm--an episode on the dii involuti--the serapes--the bambino at rome--serpent-transformations. on the eve of january , ,--that historic new year's day on which president lincoln proclaimed freedom to american slaves,--i was present at a watchnight held by negroes in a city of that country. in opening the meeting the preacher said,--though in words whose eloquent shortcomings i cannot reproduce:--'brethren and sisters, the president of the united states has promised that, if the confederates do not lay down their arms, he will free all their slaves to-morrow. they have not laid down their arms. to-morrow will be the day of liberty to the oppressed. but we all know that evil powers are around the president. while we sit here they are trying to make him break his word. but we have come together to watch, and see that he does not break his word. brethren, the bad influences around the president to-night are stronger than any copperheads. [ ] the old serpent is abroad to-night, with all his emissaries, in great power. his wrath is great, because he knows his hour is near. he will be in this church this evening. as midnight comes on we shall hear his rage. but, brethren and sisters, don't be alarmed. our prayers will prevail. his head will be bruised. his back will be broken. he will go raging to hell, and god almighty's new year will make the united states a true land of freedom.' the sensation caused among the hundreds of negroes present by these words was profound; they were frequently interrupted by cries of 'glory!' and there were tears of joy. but the scene and excitement which followed were indescribable. a few moments before midnight the congregation were requested to kneel, which they did, and prayer succeeded prayer with increasing fervour. presently a loud, prolonged hiss was heard. there were cries--'he's here! he's here!' then came a volley of hisses; they seemed to proceed from every part of the room, hisses so entirely like those of huge serpents that the strongest nerves were shaken; above them rose the preacher's prayer that had become a wild incantation, and ecstatic ejaculations became so universal that it was a marvel what voices were left to make the hisses. finally, from a neighbouring steeple the twelve strokes of midnight sounded on the frosty air, and immediately the hisses diminished, and presently died away altogether, and the new year that brought freedom to four millions of slaves was ushered in by the jubilant chorus of all present singing a hymn of victory. far had come those hisses and that song of victory, terminating the dragon-drama of america. in them was the burden of ezekiel: 'son of man, set thy face against pharaoh, king of egypt, and prophesy against him and against all egypt, saying, thus saith the lord jehovah: behold i am against thee, pharaoh king of egypt, the great dragon that lieth in the midst of the rivers ... i will put a hook in thy jaws.' in them was the burden of isaiah: 'in that day jehovah with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent: he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.' in it was the cry of zophar: 'his meat in his bowels is turned, it is the gall of asps within him. he hath swallowed down riches, and he shall vomit them up again: god shall cast them out of his belly.' and these hebrew utterances, again, were but the distant echoes of far earlier voices of those african slaves still seen pictured with their chains on the ruined walls of egypt,--voices that gathered courage at last to announce the never-ending struggle of man with oppression, as that combat between god and serpent which never had a nobler event than when the dying hiss of slavery was heard in america, and the victorious sun rose upon a new world of free and equal men. the serpent thus exalted in america to a type of oppression is very different from any snake that may this day be found worshipped as a deity by the african in his native land. the swarthy snake-worshipper in his migration took his god along with him in his chest or basket--at once ark and altar--and in that hiding-place it underwent transformations. he emerged as the protean emblem of both good and evil. in a mythologic sense the serpent certainly held its tail in its mouth. no civilisation has reached the end of its typical supremacy. concerning the accompanying eleusinian form (fig. ), calmet says:--'the mysterious trunk, coffer, or basket, may be justly reckoned among the most remarkable and sacred instruments of worship, which formed part of the processional ceremonies in the heathen world. this was held so sacred that it was not publicly exposed to view, or publicly opened, but was reserved for the inspection of the initiated, the fully initiated only. completely to explain this symbol would require a dissertation; and, indeed, it has been considered, more or less, by those who have written on the nature of the ark of the testimony among the hebrews. declining the inquiry at present, we merely call the attention of the reader to what this mystical coffer was supposed to contain--a serpent!' the french benedictine who wrote this passage, though his usual candour shames the casuistry of our own time, found it necessary to conceal the hebrew ark: it was precisely so that the occupant of the ark was originally concealed; and though st. john exorcised it from the chalice its genius lingers in the pyx, before whose host 'lifted up' the eyes of worshippers are lowered. the writer of the epistle to the hebrews (chap. ix.), describing the tabernacle, says: 'after the second veil, the tabernacle which is called the holiest of all; which had the golden censer, and the ark of the covenant overlaid round about with gold, wherein was the golden pot that had manna, and aaron's rod that budded, and the tables of the covenant.' but this rod of aaron, which, by budding, had swallowed up all rival pretensions to the tribal priesthood, was the same rod which had been changed to a serpent, and swallowed up the rod-serpents of the sorcerers in pharaoh's presence. so soft and subtle is 'the way of a serpent upon a rock!' this veiling of the serpent, significant of a great deal, is characteristic even of the words used to name it. of these i have selected one to head this chapter, because it is one of the innumerable veils which shielded this reptile's transformation from a particular external danger to a demonic type. this general description of things that wind about or turn (vermes, traced by some to the sanskrit root hvar, 'curved'), gradually came into use to express the demon serpents. dante and milton call satan a worm. no doubt among the two hundred names for the serpent, said to be mentioned in an arabic work, we should find parallels to this old adaptation of the word 'worm.' in countries--as germany and england--where no large serpents are found, the popular imagination could not be impressed by merely saying that siegfried or lambton had slain a snake. the tortuous character of the snake was preserved, but, by that unconscious dexterity which so often appears in the making of myths, it was expanded so as to include a power of supernatural transformation. the lambton worm comes out of the well very small, but it afterwards coils in nine huge folds around its hill. the hag-ridden daughter of the king of northumberland, who crept into a hole a worm and out stept a fair ladye, did but follow the legendary rule of the demonic serpent tribe. why was the serpent slipped into the ark or coffer and hid behind veils? to answer this will require here an episode. in the etruscan theology and ceremonial the supreme power was lodged with certain deities that were never seen. they were called the dii involuti, the veiled gods. not even the priests ever looked upon them. when any dire calamity occurred, it was said these mysterious deities had spoken their word in the council of the gods,--a word always final and fatal. there have been fine theories on the subject, and the etruscans have been complimented for having high transcendental views of the invisible nature of the divine being. but a more prosaic theory is probably true. these gods were wrapped up because they were not fit to be seen. the rude carvings of some savage tribe, they had been seen and adored at first: temples had been built for them, and their priesthood had grown powerful; but as art advanced and beautiful statues arose, these rude designs could not bear the contrast, and the only way of preserving reverence for them, and the institutions grown up around them, was to hide them out of sight altogether. then it could be said they were so divinely beautiful that the senses would be overpowered by them. there have been many veiled deities, and though their veils have been rationalised, they are easily pierced. the inscription on the temple of isis at sais was: 'i am that which has been, which is, and which shall be, and no one has yet lifted the veil that hides me.' isis at this time had probably become a negro madonna, like that still worshipped in spain as holiest of images, and called by the same title, 'our immaculate lady.' as the fair race and the dark mingled in egypt, the primitive nubian complexion and features of isis could not inspire such reverence as more anciently, and before her also a curtain was hung. the ark of moses carried this veil into the wilderness, and concealed objects not attractive to look at--probably two scrawled stones, some bones said to be those of joseph, a pot of so-called manna, and the staff said to have once been a serpent and afterwards blossomed. fashioned by a rude tribe, the ark was a fit thing to hide, and hidden it has been to this day. when the veil of the temple was rent,--allegorically at the death of christ, actually by titus,--nothing of the kind was found; and it would seem that the jews must long have been worshipping before a veil with emptiness behind it. paul discovered that the veil said to have covered the face of moses when he descended from sinai was a myth; it meant that the people should not see to the end of what was nevertheless transient. 'their minds were blinded; for unto this day, when moses is read, that veil is on their heart.' kircher says the seraphs of egypt were images without any eminency of limbs, rolled as it were in swaddling clothes, partly made of stone, partly of metal, wood, or shell. similar images, he says, were called by the romans 'secret gods.' as an age of scepticism advanced, it was sometimes necessary that these 'involuti' should be slightly revealed, lest it should be said there was no god there at all. such is the case with the famous bambino of aracoeli church in rome. this effigy, said to have been carved by a pilgrim out of a tree on the mount of olives, and painted by st. luke while the pilgrim was sleeping, is now kept in its ark, and visitors are allowed to see part of its painted face. when the writer of this requested a sight of the whole form, or of the head at any rate, the exhibiting priest was astounded at the suggestion. no doubt he was right: the only wonder is that the face is not hid also, for a more ingeniously ugly thing than the flat, blackened, and rouged visage of the bambino it were difficult to conceive. but it wears a very cunning veil nevertheless. the face is set in marvellous brilliants, but these are of less effect in hiding its ugliness than the vesture of mythology around it. the adjacent walls are covered with pictures of the miracles it has performed, and which have attracted to it such faith that it is said at one time to have received more medical fees than all the physicians in rome together. priests have discovered that a veil over the mind is thicker than a veil on the god. such is the popular veneration for the bambino, that, in , the republicans thought it politic to present the monks with the pope's state coach to carry the idol about. in the end it was proved that the pope was securely seated beside the bambino, and he presently emerged from behind his veil also. there came, then, a period when the serpent crept behind the veil, or lid of the ark, or into a chalice,--a very small worm, but yet able to gnaw the staff of solomon. no wisdom could be permitted to rise above fear itself, though its special sources might be here and there reduced or vanquished. the snake had taught man at last its arts of war. man had summoned to his aid the pig, and the ibis made havoc among the reptiles; and some of that terror which is the parent of that kind of devotion passed away. when it next emerged, it was in twofold guise,--as agathodemon and kakodemon,--but in both forms as the familiar of some higher being. it was as the genius of minerva, of esculapius, of st. euphemia. we have already seen him (fig. ) as the genius of the eleans, the sosopolis, where also we see the serpent hurrying into his cavern, leaving the mother and child to be worshipped in the temple of lucina. in christian symbolism the seraphim--'burning (sáraf) serpents'--veiled their faces and forms beneath their huge wings, crossed in front, and so have been able to become 'the eminent,' and to join in the praises of modern communities at being delivered from just such imaginary fiery worms as themselves! chapter v. apophis. the naturalistic theory of apophis--the serpent of time-- epic of the worm--the asp of melite--vanquishers of time-- nachash-beriach--the serpent-spy--treading on serpents. the considerations advanced in the previous chapter enable us to dismiss with facility many of the rationalistic interpretations which have been advanced to explain the monstrous serpents of sacred books by reference to imaginary species supposed to be now extinct. flying serpents, snakes many-headed, rain-bringing, woman-hating, &c., may be suffered to survive as the fauna of bibliolatrous imaginations. such forms, however, are of such mythologic importance that it is necessary to watch carefully against this method of realistic interpretation, especially as there are many actual characteristics of serpents sufficiently mysterious to conspire with it. a recent instance of this literalism may here be noticed. mr. w. r. cooper [ ] supposes the evil serpent of egyptian mythology to have a real basis in 'a large and unidentified species of coluber, of great strength and hideous longitude,' which 'was, even from the earliest ages, associated as the representative of spiritual, and occasionally physical evil, and was named hof, rehof, or apophis,' the 'destroyer, the enemy of the gods, and the devourer of the souls of men.' that such a creature, he adds, 'once inhabited the libyan desert, we have the testimony of both hanno the carthaginian and lucan the roman, and if it is now no longer an inhabitant of that region, it is probably owing to the advance of civilisation having driven it farther south.' apart from the extreme improbability that african exploration should have brought no rumours of such a monster if it existed, it may be said concerning mr. cooper's theory: ( .) if, indeed, the references cited were to a reptile now unknown, we might be led by mythologic analogy to expect that it would have been revered beyond either the asp or the cobra. in proportion to the fear has generally been the exaltation of its objects. primitive peoples have generally gathered courage to pour invective upon evil monsters when--either from their non-existence or rarity--there was least danger of its being practically resented as a personal affront. ( .) the regular folds of apophis on the sarcophagus of seti i. and elsewhere are so evidently mystical and conventional that, apparently, they refer to a serpent-form only as the guilloche on a wall may refer to sea-waves. apophis (or apap) would have been a decorative artist to fold himself in such order. these impossible labyrinthine coils suggest time, as the serpent with its tail in its mouth signifies eternity,--an evolution of the same idea. this was the interpretation given by a careful scholar, the late william hickson, [ ] to the procession of nine persons depicted on the sarcophagus mentioned as bearing a serpent, each holding a fold, all being regular enough for a frieze. 'the scene,' says this author, 'appears to relate to the last judgment, for osiris is seen on his throne, passing sentence on a crowd before him; and in the same tableaux are depicted the river that divides the living from the dead, and the bridge of life. the death of the serpent may possibly be intended to symbolise the end of time.' this idea of long duration might be a general one relating to all time, or it might refer to the duration of individual life; it involved naturally the evils and agonies of life; but the fundamental conception is more simple, and also more poetic, than even these implications, and it means eternal waste and decay. one has need only to sit before a clock to see apophis: there coil upon coil winds the ever-moving monster, whose tooth is remorseless, devouring little by little the strength and majesty of man, and reducing his grandest achievements--even his universe--to dust. time is the undying worm. god having made me worm, i make you--smoke. though safe your nameless essence from my stroke, yet do i gnaw no less love in the heart, stars in the livid space,-- god jealous,--making vacant thus your place,-- and steal your witnesses. since the star flames, man would be wrong to teach that the grave's worm cannot such glory reach; naught real is save me. within the blue, as 'neath the marble slab i lie, i bite at once the star within the sky, the apple on the tree. to gnaw yon star is not more tough to me than hanging grapes on vines of sicily; i clip the rays that fall; eternity yields not to splendours brave. fly, ant, all creatures die, and nought can save the constellations all. the starry ship, high in the ether sea, must split and wreck in the end: this thing shall be: the broad-ringed saturn toss to ruin: sirius, touched by me, decay, as the small boat from ithaca away that steers to kalymnos. [ ] the natural history of apophis, so far as he has any, is probably suggested in the following passage cited by mr. cooper from wilkinson:--'Ælian relates many strange stories of the asp, and the respect paid to it by the egyptians; but we may suppose that in his sixteen species of asps other snakes were included. he also speaks of a dragon which was sacred in the egyptian melite, and another kind of snake called paries or paruas, dedicated to Æsculapius. the serpent of melite had priests and ministers, a table and bowl. it was kept in a tower, and fed by the priests with cakes made of flour and honey, which they placed there in a bowl. having done this they retired. the next day, on returning to the apartment, the food was found to be eaten, and the same quantity was again put into the bowl, for it was not lawful for any one to see the sacred reptile.' [ ] it was in this concealment from the outward eye that the serpent was able to assume such monstrous proportions to the eye of imagination; and, indeed, it is not beyond conjecture that this serpent of melite, coming in conflict with osirian worship, was degraded and demonised into that evil monster (apophis) whom horus slew to avenge his destruction of osiris (for he was often identified with typhon). though horus cursed and slew this terrible demon-serpent, he reappears in all egyptian mythology with undiminished strength, and all evil powers were the brood of himself or typhon, who were sometimes described as brothers and sometimes as the same beings. from the 'ritual of the dead' we learn that it was the high privilege and task of the heroic dead to be reconstructed and go forth to encounter and subdue the agents of apophis, who sent out to engage them the crocodiles seb, hem, and shui, and other crocodiles from north, south, east, and west; the hero having conquered these, acquires their might, and next prevails over the walking viper ru; and so on with other demons called 'precursors of apophis,' until their prince himself is encountered and slain, all the hero's guardian deities attending to fix a knife in each of the monster's folds. these are the vanquishers of time,--the immortal. in apophis we find the serpent fairly developed to a principle of evil. he is an 'accuser of the sun;' the twelve gateways into hades are surmounted by his representatives, which the sun must pass--twelve hours of night. he is at once the 'nachash beriach' and 'nachash aktalon'--the 'cross-bar serpent' and the 'tortuous serpent'--which we meet with in isa. xxvii. : 'in that day the lord with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent.' the marginal translation in the english version is 'crossing like a bar,' instead of piercing, and the vulgate has serpens vectis. this refers to the moral function of the serpent, as barring the way, or guarding the door. no doubt this is the 'crooked serpent' of job xxvi. , for the astrological sense of it does not invalidate the terrestrial significance. imagination could only project into the heavens what it had learned on earth. bochart in identifying 'nachash-beriach' as 'the flying serpent,' is quite right: the seraph, or winged serpent, which barred the way to the tree of life in eden, and in some traditions was the treacherous guard at the gate of the garden, and which bit israel in the wilderness, was this same protean apophis. for such tasks, and to soar into the celestial planisphere, the serpent must needs have wings; and thus it is already far on its way to become the flying dragon. but in one form, as the betrayer of man, it must lose its wings and crawl upon the ground for ever. the serpent is thus not so much agathodemon and kakodemon in one form, as a principle of destructiveness which is sometimes employed by the deity to punish his enemies, as horus employs fiery kheti, but sometimes requires to be himself punished. there have been doubts whether the familiar derivation of ophis, serpent, from ops, the eye, shall continue. some connect the greek word with echis, but curtius maintains that the old derivation from ops is correct. [ ] even were this not the etymology, the popularity of it would equally suggest the fact that this reptile was of old supposed to kill with its glance; and it was also generally regarded as gifted with præternatural vision. by a similar process to that which developed avenging furies out of the detective dawn--erinyes from saranyu, satan from lucifer [ ]--this subtle spy might have become also a retributive and finally a malignant power. the furies were portrayed bearing serpents in their hands, and each of these might carry ideally the terrors of apophis: time also is a detective, and the guilty heard it saying, 'your sin will find you out.' through many associations of this kind the serpent became at an early period an agent of ordeal. any one handling it with impunity was regarded as in league with it, or specially hedged about by the deity whose 'hands formed the crooked serpent.' it may have been as snake-charmers that moses and aaron appeared before pharaoh and influenced his imagination; or, if the story be a myth, its existence still shows that serpent performances would then have been regarded as credentials of divine authentication. so when paul was shipwrecked on malta, where a viper is said to have fastened on his hand, the barbarians, having at first inferred that he was a murderer, 'whom though he hath escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffereth not to live,' concluded he was a god when they found him unharmed. innumerable traditions preceded the words ascribed to christ (luke x. ), 'behold, i give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you.' it is instructive to compare this sentence attributed to christ with the notion of the barbarians concerning paul's adventure, whatever it may have been. paul's familiarity with the serpent seems to them proof that he is a god. such also is the idea represented in isa. xi. , 'the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp.' but the idea of treading on serpents marks a period more nearly corresponding to that of the infant hercules strangling the serpents. yet though these two conceptions--serpent-treading, and serpent-slaying--approach each other, they are very different in source and significance, both morally and historically. the word used in luke, pateiin, conveys the idea of walking over something in majesty, not in hostility; it must be interpreted by the next sentence (x. ), 'notwithstanding, in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you (ta pneumata hypotassetai).' the serpent-slayer or dragon-slayer is not of semitic origin. the awful supremacy of jehovah held all the powers of destruction chained to his hand; and to ask man if he could draw out leviathan with a hook was only another form of reminding him of his own inferiority to the creator and lord of leviathan. how true the semitic ideas running through the bible, and especially represented in the legend of paul in malta, are to the barbarian nature is illustrated by an incident related in mr. brinton's 'myths of the new world.' the pious founder of the moravian brotherhood, count zinzendorf, was visiting a missionary station among the shawnees in the wyoming valley, america. recent quarrels with the white people had so irritated the red men that they resolved to make him their victim. after he had retired to his hut several of the braves softly peered in. count zinzendorf was seated before a fire, lost in perusal of the scriptures; and while the red men gazed they saw what he did not--a huge rattlesnake trailing across his feet to gather itself in a coil before the comfortable warmth of the fire. immediately they forsook their murderous purpose, and retired noiselessly, convinced that this was indeed a divine man. chapter vi. the serpent in india. the kankato na--the vedic serpents not worshipful--ananta and sesha--the healing serpent--the guardian of treasures--miss buckland's theory--primitive rationalism--underworld plutocracy--rain and lightning--vritra--history of the word 'ahi'--the adder--zohák--a teutonic laokoon. that serpent-worship in india was developed by euphemism seems sufficiently shown in the famous vedic hymn called kankato na, recited as an antidote against all venom, of which the following is a translation:-- ' . some creature of little venom; some creature of great venom; or some venomous aquatic reptile; creatures of two kinds, both destructive of life, or poisonous, unseen creatures, have anointed me with their poison. ' . the antidote coming to the bitten person destroys the unseen venomous creatures; departing it destroys them; deprived of substance it destroys them by its odour; being ground it pulverises them. ' . blades of sara grass, of kusara, of darhba, of sairya, of munja, of virana, all the haunt of unseen venomous creatures, have together anointed me with their venom. ' . the cows had lain down in their stalls; the wild beasts had retreated to their lairs; the senses of men were at rest; when the unseen venomous creatures anointed me with their venom. ' . or they may be discovered in the dark, as thieves in the dusk of evening; for although they be unseen yet all are seen by them; therefore, men be vigilant. ' . heaven, serpents, is your father; earth, your mother; soma, your brother; aditi, your sister; unseen, all-seeing, abide in your holes; enjoy your own good pleasure. ' . those who move with their shoulders, those who move with their bodies, those who sting with sharp fangs, those who are virulently venomous; what do ye here, ye unseen, depart together far from us. ' . the all-seeing sun rises in the east, the destroyer of the unseen, driving away all the unseen venomous creatures, and all evil spirits. ' . the sun has risen on high, destroying all the many poisons; aditya, the all-seeing, the destroyer of the unseen, rises for the good of living beings. ' . i deposit the poison in the solar orb, like a leathern bottle in the house of a vendor of spirits; verily that adorable sun never dies; nor through his favour shall we die of the venom; for, though afar off, yet drawn by his coursers he will overtake the poison: the science of antidotes converted thee, poison, to ambrosia. ' . that insignificant little bird has swallowed thy venom; she does not die; nor shall we die; for although afar off, yet, drawn by his coursers, the sun will overtake the poison: the science of antidotes has converted thee, poison, to ambrosia. ' . may the thrice-seven sparks of agni consume the influence of the venom; they verily do not perish; nor shall we die; for although afar off, the sun, drawn by his coursers, will overtake the poison: the science of antidotes has converted thee, poison, to ambrosia. ' . i recite the names of ninety and nine rivers, the destroyers of poison: although afar off, the sun, drawn by his coursers, will overtake the poison: the science of antidotes will convert thee, poison, to ambrosia. ' . may the thrice-seven peahens, the seven-sister rivers, carry off, o body, thy poison, as maidens with pitchers carry away water. ' . may the insignificant mungoose carry off thy venom, poison: if not, i will crush the vile creature with a stone: so may the poison depart from my body, and go to distant regions. ' . hastening forth at the command of agastya, thus spake the mungoose: the venom of the scorpion is innocuous; scorpion, thy venom is innocuous.' [ ] though, in the sixth verse of this hymn, the serpents are said to be born of heaven and earth, the context does not warrant the idea that any homage to them is intended; they are associated with the evil rakshasas, the sun and agni being represented as their haters and destroyers. the seven-sister rivers (streams of the sacred ganges) supply an antidote to their venom, and certain animals, the partridge and the mungoose, are said, though insignificant, to be their superiors. the science of antidotes alluded to is that which indra taught to dadhyanch, who lost his head for communicating it to the aswins. it is notable, however, that in the vedic period there is nothing which represents the serpent as medicinal, unless by a roundabout process we connect the expression in the rig-veda that the wrath of the maruts, or storm-gods, is 'as the ire of serpents,' with the fact that their chief, rudra, is celebrated as the bestower of 'healing herbs,' and they themselves solicited for 'medicaments.' this would be stretching the sense of the hymns too far. it is quite possible, however, that at a later day, when serpent-worship was fully developed in india, what is said in the sixth verse of the hymn may have been adduced to confirm the superstition. it seems clear, then, that at the time the kankato na was written, the serpent was regarded with simple abhorrence. and we may remember, also, that even now, when the indian cobra is revered as a brahman of the highest caste, there is a reminiscence of his previous ill repute preserved in the common hindu belief that a certain mark on his head was left there by the heel of vishnu, lord of life, who trod on it when, in one of his avatars, he first stepped upon the earth. although in the later mythology we find vishnu, in the intervals between his avatars or incarnations, reposing on a serpent (sesha), this might originally have signified only his lordship over it, though sesha is also called ananta, the infinite. the idea of the infinite is a late one, however, and the symbolisation of it by sesha is consistent with a lower significance at first. in hindu popular fables the snake appears in its simple character. such is the fable of which so many variants are found, the most familiar in the west being that of bethgelert, and which is the thirteenth of the th hitopadesa. the brahman having left his child alone, while he performs a rite to his ancestors, on his return finds a pet mungoose (nakula) smeared with blood. supposing the mungoose has devoured his child, he slays it, and then discovers that the poor animal had killed a serpent which had crept upon the infant. in the kankato na the word interpreted by sáyana as mungoose (viverra mungo, or ichneumon) is not the same (nakula), but it evidently means some animal sufficiently unimportant to cast contempt upon the serpent. the universality of the serpent as emblem of the healing art--found as such among the egyptians, greeks, germans, aztecs, and natives of brazil--suggests that its longevity and power of casting its old skin, apparently renewing its youth, may have been the basis of this reputation. no doubt, also, they would have been men of scientific tendencies and of close observation who first learned the snake's susceptibilities to music, and how its poison might be drawn, or even its fangs, and who so gained reputation as partakers of its supposed powers. through such primitive rationalism the serpent might gain an important alliance and climb to make the asp-crown of isis as goddess of health (the thermuthis), to twine round the staff of esculapius, to be emblem of hippocrates, and ultimately survive to be the sign of the european leech, twining at last as a red stripe round the barber's pole. the primitive zoologist and snake-charmer would not only, in all likelihood, be a man cunning in the secrets of nature, but he would study to meet as far as he could the popular demand for palliatives and antidotes against snake-bites; all who escaped death after such wounds would increase his credit as a practitioner; and even were his mitigations necessarily few, his knowledge of the serpent's habits and of its varieties might be the source of valuable precautions. such probable facts as these must, of course, be referred to a period long anterior to the poetic serpent-symbolism of egypt, and the elaborate serpent mythology of greece and scandinavia. how simple ideas, having once gained popular prestige, may be caught up by theologians, poets, metaphysicians, and quacks, and modified into manifold forms, requires no proof in an age when we are witnessing the rationalistic interpretations by which the cross, the sacraments, and the other plain symbols are invested with all manner of philosophical meanings. the serpent having been adopted as the sign-post of egyptian and assyrian doctors--and it may have been something of that kind that was set up by moses in the wilderness--would naturally become the symbol of life, and after that it would do duty in any capacity whatever. an ingenious anthropologist, mr. c. staniland wake, [ ] supposes the serpent in india to have been there also the symbol of præternatural and occult knowledge. possibly this may have been so to a limited extent, and in post-vedic times, but to me the accent of hindu serpent-mythology appears to be emphatically in the homage paid to it as the guardian of the treasures. i may mention here also the theory propounded by miss a. w. buckland in a paper submitted to the anthropological institute in london, march , , on 'the serpent in connection with primitive metallurgy.' in this learned monograph the writer maintains that a connection may be observed between the early serpent-worship and a knowledge of metals, and indeed that the serpent was the sign of turanian metallurgists in the same way as i have suggested that in egypt and assyria it was the sign of physicians. she believes that the serpent must have played some part in the original discovery of the metals and precious stones by man, in recognition of which that animal was first assumed as a totem and thence became an emblem. she states that traditional and ornamentational evidences show that the turanian races were the first workers in metals, and that they migrated westward, probably from india to egypt and chaldæa, and thence to europe, and even to america, bearing their art and its sign; and that they fled before the aryans, who had the further art of smelting, and that the aryan myths of serpent-slaying record the overthrow of the turanian serpent-worshippers. i cannot think that miss buckland has made out a case for crediting nomadic turanians with being the original metallurgists; though it is not impossible that it may have been a scythian tribe in southern india who gave its fame to 'the gold of ophir,' which max müller has shown to have been probably an indian region. [ ] but that these early jewellers may have had the serpent as their sign or emblem is highly probable, and in explanation of it there seems little reason to resort to the hypothesis of aid having been given by the serpent to man in his discovery of metals. surely the jewelled decoration of the serpent would in itself have been an obvious suggestion of it as the emblem of gems. where a reptile for some reasons associated with the snake--the toad--had not the like bright spots, the cognate superstition might arise that its jewel is concealed in its head. and, finally, when these reptiles had been connected with gems, the eye of either would easily receive added rays from manifold eye-beams of superstition. we might also credit the primitive people with sufficient logical power to understand why they should infer that an animal so wonderfully and elaborately provided with deadliness as the serpent should have tasks of corresponding importance. the medicine which healed man (therefore possibly gods), the treasures valued most by men (therefore by anthropomorphic deities), the fruit of immortality (which the gods might wish to monopolise),--might seem the supreme things of value, which the supreme perfection of the serpent's fang might be created to guard. this might be so in the heavens as well as in the world or the underworld. the rainbow was called the 'celestial serpent' in persia, and the old notion that there is a bag of gold at the end of it is known to many an english and american child. whatever may have been the nature of the original suggestion, there are definite reasons why, when the serpent was caught up to be part of combinations representing a principle of evil, his character as guardian of treasures should become of great importance. wealth is the characteristic of the gods of the hades, or unseen world beneath the surface of the earth. in the vast sinhalese demonology we find the highest class of demons (dewatawas) described as resident in golden palaces, glittering with gems, themselves with skins of golden hue, wearing cobras as ornaments, their king, wessamony seated on a gem-throne and wielding a golden sword. pluto is from the word for wealth (ploutos), as also is his latin name dis (dives). for such are lords of all beneath the sod, or the sea's surface. therefore, it is important to observe, they own all the seeds in the earth so long as they remain seeds. so soon as they spring to flower, grain, fruitage, they belong not to the gods of hades but to man: an idea which originated the myth of persephone, and seems to survive in a school of extreme vegetarians, who refuse to eat vegetables not ripened in the sun. these considerations may enable us the better to apprehend the earlier characters of ahi, the throttler, and vritra, the coverer. as guardians of such hidden treasures as metals and drugs the serpent might be baroneted and invoked to bestow favours; but those particular serpents which by hiding away the cloud-cows withheld the rain, or choked the rivers with drought, all to keep under-world garners fat and those of the upper world lean, were to be combated. against them man invoked the celestial deities, reminding them that their own altars must lack offerings if they did not vanquish these thievish binders and concealers. the serpent with its jewelled raiment, its self-renovating power, and its matchless accomplishments for lurking, hiding, fatally striking, was gradually associated with undulations of rivers and sea-waves on the earth, with the milky-way, with 'coverers' of the sky--night and cloud--above all, with the darting, crooked, fork-tongued lightning. it may have been the lightning that was the amrita churned out of the azure sea in the myth of the 'mahábhárata,' when the gods and demons turned the mountain with a huge serpent for cord (p. ), meaning the descent of fire, or its discovery; but other fair and fruitful things emerged also,--the goddess of wine, the cow of plenty, the tree of heaven. the inhabitants of burmah still have a custom of pulling at a rope to produce rain. a rain party and a drought party tug against each other, the rain party being allowed the victory, which, in the popular notion is generally followed by rain. i have often seen snakes hung up after being killed to bring rain, in the state of virginia. for there also rain means wealth. it is there believed also that, however much it may be crushed, a snake will not die entirely until it thunders. these are distant echoes of the vedic sentences. 'friend vishnu,' says indra, 'stride vastly; sky give room for the thunderbolt to strike; let us slay vritra and let loose the waters.' 'when, thunderer, thou didst by thy might slay vritra, who stopped up the streams, then thy dear steeds grew.' vritra, though from the same root as varuna (the sky), means at first a coverer of the sky--cloud or darkness; hence eventually he becomes the hider, the thief, who steals and conceals the bounties of heaven--a rainless cloud, a suffocating night; and eventually vritra coalesces with the most fearful phantasm of the aryan mind--the serpent ahi. the greek word for adder, echis, is a modification of ahi. perhaps there exists no more wonderful example of the unconscious idealism of human nature than the history of the name of the great throttler, as it has been traced by professor max müller. the serpent was also called ahi in sanskrit, in greece echis or echidna, in latin anguis. the root is ah in sanskrit, or amh, which means to press together, to choke, to throttle. it is a curious root this amh, and it still lives in several modern words, in latin it appears as ango, anxi, anctum, to strangle; in angina, quinsy; in angor, suffocation. but angor meant not only quinsy or compression of the neck: it assumed a moral import, and signifies anguish or anxiety. the two adjectives angustus, narrow, and anxius, uneasy, both came from the same root. in greek the root retained its natural and material meaning; in eggys, near, and echis, serpent, throttler. but in sanskrit it was chosen with great truth as the proper name of sin. evil no doubt presented itself under various aspects to the human mind, and its names are many; but none so expressive as those derived from our root amh, to throttle. amhas in sanskrit means sin, but it does so only because it meant originally throttling--the consciousness of sin being like the grasp of the assassin on the throat of the victim. all who have seen and contemplated the statue of laokoon and his sons, with the serpent coiled around them from head to foot, may realise what those ancients felt and saw when they called sin amhas, or the throttler. this amhas is the same as the greek agos, sin. in gothic the same root has produced agis, in the sense of fear, and from the same source we have awe, in awful, i.e., fearful, and ug in ugly. the english anguish is from the french angoise, a corruption of the latin angustitæ, a strait. [ ] in this wonderful history of a word, whose biography, as max müller in his hibbert lectures said of deva, might fill a volume, may also be included our ogre, and also the german unke, which means a 'frog' or 'toad,' but originally a 'snake'--especially the little house-snake which plays a large part in teutonic folklore, and was supposed to bring good luck. [ ] this euphemistic variant is, however, the only exception i can find to the baleful branches into which the root ah has grown through the world; one of its fearful fruits being the accompanying figure, copied from one of the ornamental bosses of wells cathedral. the adder demon has been universal. herodotus relates that from a monster, half-woman, half-serpent, sprang the scythians, and the fable has often been remembered in the history of the turks. the 'zohák' of firdusi is the iranian form of ahi. the name is the arabicised form of the 'azhi daháka' of the avesta, the 'baneful serpent' vanquished by thraêtaono (traitana of the vedas), and this iranian name again (dásaka) is ahi. the name reappears in the median astyages. [ ] zohák is represented as having two serpents growing out of his shoulders, which the late professor wilson supposed might have been suggested by a phrase in the kankato na (ye ansyá ye angyáh) which he translates, 'those who move with their shoulders, those who move with their bodies,' which, however, may mean 'those produced on the shoulders, biting with them,' and 'might furnish those who seek for analogies between iranian and indian legends with a parallel in the story of zohák.' the legend alluded to is a favourite one in persia, where it is used to point a moral, as in the instruction of the learned saib to the prince, his pupil. saib related to the boy the story of king zohák, to whom a magician came, and, breathing on him, caused two serpents to come forth from the region of his breast, and told him they would bring him great glory and pleasure, provided he would feed these serpents with the poorest of his subjects. this zohák did; and he had great pleasure and wealth until his subjects revolted and shut the king up in a cavern where he became himself a prey to the two serpents. the young prince to whom this legend was related was filled with horror, and begged saib to tell him a pleasanter one. the teacher then related that a young sultan placed his confidence in an artful courtier who filled his mind with false notions of greatness and happiness, and introduced into his heart pride and voluptuousness. to those two passions the young sultan sacrificed the interests of his kingdom, until his subjects banished him; but his pride and voluptuousness remained in him, and, unable to gratify them in his exile, he died of rage and despair. the prince-pupil said, 'i like this story better than the other.' 'and yet,' said saib, 'it is the same.' it is curious that this old persian fable should have survived in the witch-lore of america, and at last supplied nathaniel hawthorne with the theme of one of his beautiful allegorical romances,--that, namely, of the man with a snake in his bosom which ever threatened to throttle him if he did not feed it. it came to the american fabulist through many a mythical skin, so to say. one of the most beautiful it has worn is a story which is still told by mothers to their children in some districts of germany. it relates that a little boy and girl went into the fields to gather strawberries. after they had gathered they met an aged woman, who asked for some of the fruit. the little girl emptied her basket into the old woman's lap; but the boy clutched his, and said he wanted his berries for himself. when they had passed on the old woman called them back, and presented to each a little box. the girl opened hers, and found in it two white caterpillars which speedily became butterflies, then grew to be angels with golden wings, and bore her away to paradise. the boy opened his box, and from it issued two tiny black worms; these swiftly swelled to huge serpents, which, twining all about the boy's limbs, drew him away into the dark forest; where this teutonic laokoon still remains to illustrate in his helplessness the mighty power of little faults to grow into bad habits and bind the whole man. chapter vii. the basilisk. the serpent's gem--the basilisk's eye--basiliscus mitratus-- house-snakes in russia and germany--king-snakes--heraldic dragon--henry iii.--melusina--the laidley worm--victorious dragons--pendragon--merlin and vortigern--medicinal dragons. a dragoon once presented himself before frederick the great and offered the king a small pebble, which, he said, had been cut from the head of a king-snake, and would no doubt preserve the throne. frederick probably trusted more to dragoons than dragons, but he kept the little curiosity, little knowing, perhaps, that it would be as prolific of legends as the cock's egg, to which it is popularly traceable, in cockatrices (whose name may have given rise to the cock-fables) or basilisks. it has now taken its place in german folklore that frederick owed his greatness to a familiar kept near him in the form of a basilisk. but there are few parts of the world where similar legends might not spring up and coil round any famous reputation. an indian newspaper, the lawrence gazette, having mentioned that the ex-king of oudh is a collector of snakes, adds--'perhaps he wishes to become possessed of the precious jewel which some serpents are said to contain, or of that species of snake by whose means, it is said, a person can fly in the air.' dr. dennys, in whose work on chinese folklore this is quoted, finds the same notion in china. in one story a foreigner repeatedly tries to purchase a butcher's bench, but the butcher refuses to sell it, suspecting there must be some hidden value in the article; for this reason he puts the bench by, and when the foreigner returns a year afterwards, learns from him that lodged in the bench was a snake, kept alive by the blood soaking through it, which held a precious gem in its mouth--quite worthless after the snake was dead. cursing his stupidity at having put the bench out of use, the butcher cut it open and found the serpent dead, holding in its mouth something like the eye of a dried fish. here we have two items which may only be accidental, and yet, on the other hand, possibly possess significance. the superior knowledge about the serpent attributed to a 'foreigner' may indicate that such stories in china are traditionally alien, imported with the buddhists; and the comparison of the dead gem to an eye may add a little to the probabilities that this magical jewel, whether in head of toad or serpent, is the reptile's eye as seen by the glamour of human eyes. the eye of the basilisk is at once its wealth-producing, its fascinating, and its paralysing talisman, though all these beliefs have their various sources and their several representations in mythology. that it was seen as a gem was due, as i think, to the jewelled skin of most serpents, which gradually made them symbols of riches; that it was believed able to fascinate may be attributed to the general principles of illusion already considered; but its paralysing power, its evil eye, connects it with a notion, found alike in egypt and india, that the serpent kills with its eye. among sanskrit words for serpent are 'drig-visha' and 'drishti-visha'--literally 'having poison in the eye.' while all serpents were lords and guardians of wealth, certain of them were crested, or had small horns, which conveyed the idea of a crowned and imperial snake, the basiliskos. naturalists have recognised this origin of the name by giving the same (basiliscus mitratus) to a genus of iguanidæ, remarkable for a membranous crest not only on the occiput but also along the back, which this lizard can raise and depress at pleasure. but folklore, the science of the ignorant, had established the same connection by alleging that the basilisk is hatched from the egg of a black cock,--which was the peasant's explanation of the word cockatrice. de plancy traces one part of the belief to a disease which causes the cock to produce a small egg-like substance; but the resemblance between its comb and the crests of serpent and frog [ ] was the probable link between them; while the ancient eminence of the cock as the bird of dawn relegated the origin of the basilisk to a very exceptional member of the family--a black cock in its seventh year. the useful fowl would seem, however, to have suffered even so slightly mainly through a phonetic misconception. the word 'cockatrice' is 'crocodile' transformed. we have it in the old french 'cocatrix,' which again is from the spanish 'cocotriz,' meaning 'crocodile,'--krokodeilos; which herodotus, by the way, uses to denote a kind of lizard, and whose sanctity has extended from the nile to the danube, where folklore declares that the skeleton of the lizard presents an image of the passion of christ, and it must never be harmed. thus 'cockatrice' has nothing to do with 'cock' or 'coq,' though possibly the coincidence of the sound has marred the ancient fame of the 'bird of dawn.' indeed black cocks have been so generally slain on this account that they were for a long time rare, and so the basilisks had a chance of becoming extinct. there were fabulous creatures enough, however, to perpetuate the basilisk's imaginary powers, some of which will be hereafter considered. we may devote the remainder of this chapter to the consideration of a variant of dragon-mythology, which must be cleared out of our way in apprehending the dragon. this is the agathodemonic or heraldic dragon, which has inherited the euphemistic characters of the treasure-guarding and crowned serpent. in slavonic legend the king-serpent plays a large part, and innumerable stories relate the glories of some peasant child that, managing to secure a tiny gem from his crown, while the reptilian monarch was bathing, found the jewel daily surrounded with new treasures. this is the same serpent which, gathering up the myths of lightning and of comets, flies through many german legends as the red drake, kolbuk, alp, or alberflecke, dropping gold when it is red, corn if blue, and yielding vast services and powers to those who can magically master it. the harmless serpents of germany were universally invested with agathodemonic functions, though they still bear the name that relates them to ahi, viz., unken. of these household-snakes grimm and simrock give much information. it is said that in fields and houses they approach solitary children and drink milk from the dish with them. on their heads they wear golden crowns, which they lay down before drinking, and sometimes forget when they retire. they watch over children in the cradle, and point out to their favourites where treasures are hidden. to kill them brings misfortune. if the parents surprise the snake with the child and kill it, the child wastes away. once the snake crept into the mouth of a pregnant woman, and when the child was born the snake was found closely coiled around its neck, and could only be untwined by a milk-bath; but it never left the child's side, ate and slept with it, and never did it harm. if such serpents left a house or farm, prosperity went with them. in some regions it is said a male and female snake appear whenever the master or mistress of the house is about to die, and the legends of the unken sometimes relapse into the original fear out of which they grew. indeed, their vengeance is everywhere much dreaded, while their gratitude, especially for milk, is as imperishable as might be expected from their ancestor's quarrel with indra about the stolen cows. in the gesta romanorum it is related that a milkmaid was regularly approached at milking-time by a large snake to which she gave milk. the maid having left her place, her successor found on the milking-stool a golden crown, on which was inscribed 'in gratitude.' the crown was sent to the milkmaid who had gone, but from that time the snake was never seen again. [ ] in england serpents were mastered by the vows of a saintly christian. the knight bran in the isle of wight is said to have picked up the cockatrice egg, to have been pursued by the serpents, which he escaped by vowing to build st. lawrence church in that island,--the egg having afterwards brought him endless wealth and uniform success in combat. with the manifold fables concerning the royal dragon would seem to blend traditions of the astrological, celestial, and lightning serpents. but these would coincide with a development arising from the terrestrial worms and their heroic slayers. the demonic dragon with his terrible eye might discern from afar the advent of his predestined destroyer. it might seek to devour him in infancy. as the comet might be deemed a portent of some powerful prince born on earth, so it might be a compliment to a royal family, on the birth of a prince, to report that a dragon had been seen. nor would it be a long step from this office of the dragon as the herald of greatness to placing that monster on banners. from these banners would grow sagas of dragons encountered and slain. the devices might thus multiply. some process of this kind would account for the entirely good reputation of the dragon in china and japan, where it is the emblem of all national grandeur. it would also appear to underlie the proud titles of the pythian apollo and bellerophon, gained from the monsters they were said to have slain. the city of worms takes its name from the serpent instead of its slayer. [ ] pendragon, in the past--and even our dragoon of the present--are names in which the horrors of the monster become transformed in the hero's fame. the dragon, says mr. hardwicke, was the standard of the west saxons, and of the english previous to the norman conquest. it formed one of the supporters of the royal arms borne by all the tudor monarchs, with the exception of queen mary, who substituted the eagle. several of the plantagenet kings and princes inscribed a figure of the dragon on their banners and shields. peter langtoffe says, at the battle of lewis, fought in , 'the king schewed forth his schild, his dragon full austere.' another authority says the said king (henry iii.) ordered to be made 'a dragon in the manner of a banner, of a certain red silk embroidered with gold; its tongue like a flaming fire must always seem to be moving; its eyes must be made of sapphire, or of some other stone suitable for that purpose.' [ ] it will thus be seen that an influence has been introduced into dragon-lore which has no relation whatever to the demon itself. this will explain those variants of the legend of melusina--the famous woman-serpent--which invest her with romance. melusina, whose indiscreet husband glanced at her in forbidden hours, when she was in her serpent shape, was long the glory of the chateau de lusignan, where her cries announced the approaching death of her descendants. there is a peasant family still dwelling in fontainebleau forest who claim to be descended from melusina; and possibly some instance of this kind may have dropped like a seed into the memory of the author of 'elsie venner' to reappear in one of the finest novels of our generation. the corresponding sentiment is found surrounding the dragon in the familiar british legend of the laidley [ ] worm. the king of northumberland brought home a new queen, who was also a sorceress, and being envious of the beauty of her step-daughter, changed that poor princess into the worm which devastated all spindleton heugh. for seven miles every green thing was blighted by its venom, and seven cows had to yield their daily supplies of milk. meanwhile the king and his son mourned the disappearance of the princess. the young prince fitted out a ship to go and slay the dragon. the wicked queen tries unsuccessfully to prevent the expedition. the prince leaps from his ship into the shallow sea, and wades to the rock around which the worm lay coiled. but as he drew near the monster said to him: oh, quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, and give me kisses three; if i'm not won ere the sun goes down, won i shall never be. he quitted his sword and bent his bow, he gave her kisses three; she crept into a hole a worm, but out stept a ladye. in the end the prince managed to have the wicked queen transformed into a toad, which in memory thereof, as every northumbrian boy knows, spits fire to this day: but it is notable that the sorceress was not transformed into a dragon, as the story would probably have run if the dragon form had not already been detached from its original character, and by many noble associations been rendered an honourable though fearful shape for maidens like this princess and like melusina. in the same direction point the legends which show dragons as sometimes victorious over their heroic assailants. geoffrey of monmouth so relates of king morvidus of northumbria, who encountered a dragon that came from the irish sea, and was last seen disappearing in the monster's jaws 'like a small fish.' a more famous instance is that of beowulf, whose anglo-saxon saga is summed up by professor morley as follows:--'afterward the broad land came under the sway of beowulf. he held it well for fifty winters, until in the dark night a dragon, which in a stone mound watched a hoard of gold and cups, won mastery. it was a hoard heaped up in sin, its lords were long since dead; the last earl before dying hid it in the earth-cave, and for three hundred winters the great scather held the cave, until some man, finding by chance a rich cup, took it to his lord. then the den was searched while the worm slept; again and again when the dragon awoke there had been theft. he found not the man but wasted the whole land with fire; nightly the fiendish air-flyer made fire grow hateful to the sight of men. then it was told to beowulf.... he sought out the dragon's den and fought with him in awful strife. one wound the poison-worm struck in the flesh of beowulf.' whereof beowulf died. equally significant is the legend that when king arthur had embarked at southampton on his expedition against rome, about midnight he saw in a dream 'a bear flying in the air, at the noise of which all the shores trembled; also a terrible dragon, flying from the west, which enlightened the country with the brightness of its eyes. when these two met they had a dreadful fight, but the dragon with its fiery breath burned the bear which assaulted him, and threw him down scorched to the earth.' this vision was taken to augur arthur's victory. the father of arthur had already in a manner consecrated the symbol, being named uther pendragon (dragon's head). on the death of his brother aurelius, it was told 'there appeared a star of wonderful magnitude and brightness,' darting forth a ray, at the end of which was a globe of fire, in form of a dragon, out of whose mouth issued two rays, one of which seemed to stretch out itself towards the irish sea, and ended in seven lesser rays.' merlin interpreted this phenomenon to mean that uther would be made king and conquer various regions; and after his first victory uther had two golden dragons made, one of which he presented to winchester cathedral, retaining the other to attend him in his wars. in the legend of merlin and vortigern we find the dragon so completely developed into a merely warrior-like symbol that its moral character has to be determined by its colour. as in the two armies of serpents seen by zoroaster, in persian legends, which fought in the air, the victory of the white over the black foreshowing the triumph of ormuzd over ahriman, the tyranny of vortigern is represented by a red dragon, while aurelius and uther are the two heads of a white dragon. merlin, about to be buried alive, in pursuance of the astrologer's declaration to vortigern that so only would his ever-falling wall stand firm, had revealed that the recurring disaster was caused by the struggle of these two dragons underground. when the monsters were unearthed they fought terribly, until the white one hent the red with all his might, and to the ground he him cast, and, with the fire of his blast, altogether brent the red, that never of him was founden shred; but dust upon the ground he lay. the white dragon vanished and was seen no more; but the tyrant vortigern fulfilled the fate of the red dragon, being burnt in his castle near salisbury. these two dragons met again, however, as red and white roses. many developments corresponding to these might be cited. one indeed bears a startling resemblance to our english legends. of king nuat meiamoun, whose conquest of egypt is placed by g. maspero about b.c. - , the ethiopian 'stele of the dream' relates:--'his majesty beheld a dream in the night, two snakes, one to his right, the other to his left, (and) when his majesty awoke ... he said: 'explain these things to me on the moment,' and lo! they explained it to him, saying: 'thou wilt have the southern lands, and seize the northern, and the two crowns will be put on thy head, (for) there is given unto thee the earth in all its width and its breadth.' these two snakes were probably suggested by the uræi of the egyptian diadem. beyond the glory reflected upon a monster from his conqueror, there would be reason why the alchemist and the wizard should encourage that aspect of the dragon. the more perilous that gorgon whose blood esculapius used, the more costly such medicament; while, that the remedy may be advantageous, the monster must not be wholly destructive. this is so with the now destructive now preservative forces of nature, and how they may blend in the theories, and subserve the interests, of pretenders is well shown in a german work on alchemy ( ) quoted by mr. hardwicke. 'there is a dragon lives in the forest, who has no want of poison; when he sees the sun or fire he spits venom, which flies about fearfully. no living animal can be cured of it; even the basilisk does not equal him. he who can properly kill this serpent has overcome all his danger. his colours increase in death; physic is produced from his poison, which he entirely consumes, and eats his own venomous tail. this must be accomplished by him, in order to produce the noblest balm. such great virtue as we will point out herein that all the learned shall rejoice.' it will be readily understood that these traditions and fables would combine to 'hedge about a king' by ascribing to him familiarity with a monster so formidable to common people, and even investing him with its attributes. the dragon's name, drakôn, derived from the sanskrit word for serpent (drig-visha), came to mean 'the thing that sees.' while this gave rise to many legends of præternatural powers of vision gained by tasting or bathing in a dragon's blood, as in the poem of siegfried; or from waters it guarded, as 'eye well,' in which guy's dragon dipped its tail to recover from wounds; the sanskrit sense of eye-poisoning was preserved in legends of occult and dangerous powers possessed by kings,--one of the latest being the potent evil eye popularly ascribed in italy to the late pius ix. but these stories are endless; the legends adduced will show the sense of all those which, if unexplained, might interfere with our clear insight into the dragon itself, whose further analysis will prove it to be wholly bad,--the concentrated terrors of nature. chapter viii. the dragon's eye. the eye of evil--turner's dragons--cloud-phantoms--paradise and the snake--prometheus and jove--art and nature--dragon forms: anglo-saxon, italian, egyptian, greek, german--the modern conventional dragon. the etymologies of the words dragon and ophis given in the preceding chapter, ideally the same, both refer to powers of the serpent which it does not possess in nature,--the præternatural vision and the glance that kills. the real nature of the snake is thus overlaid; we have now to deal with the creation of another world. there are various conventionalised types of the dragon, but through them all one feature is constant,--the idealised serpent. its presence is the demonic or supernatural sign. the heroic dragon-slayer must not be supposed to have wrestled with mere flesh and blood, in whatever powerful form. the combat which immortalises him is waged with all the pains and terrors of earth and heaven concentrated and combined in one fearful form. impossible and phantasmal as was this form in nature, its mystical meaning in the human mind was terribly real. it was this eye of anti-human nature which filled man with dismay, and conjured up the typical phantom. it was this pain, purposed and purposing, the agony of far-searching vision, subtlest skill, silently creeping, winged, adapted to meet his every device with a cleverer device, which gradually impressed mankind with belief in a general principle of antagonism to human happiness. it is only as a combination that any dragon form is miraculous. every constituent feature and factor of it is in nature, but here they are rolled together in one pandemonic expression and terror. yet no such form loses its relations with nature: it is lightning and tempest, fever-bearing malaria and fire, venom and fang, slime and jungle, all the ferocities of the earth, air, and heavens, gathering to their fatal artistic force, and waylaying man at every step in his advance. in turner's picture of apollo slaying the python there is a marvellous suggestion of the natural conceptions from which the dragon was evolved. the fearful folds of the monster, undulating with mound and rock on which he lies, at points almost blend with tangle of bushes and the jagged chaos amid which he stretches. the hard, wild, cruel aspects of inanimate nature seem here and there rankly swelling to horrible life, as yet but half-distinguishable from the stony-hearted matrix; the crag begins to coil and quiver, the jungle puts forth in claws; but above all appear the monstrous eyes, in which the forces of pain, hardship, obstacle have at last acquired purpose and direction. the god confronts them with eyes yet keener; his arrow, feathered with eyebeams, has reached its mark, straight between the monster's eyes; but there is no more anger in his face than might mar the calm strength of a gardener clearing away the stone and thicket that make the constituent parts of python. if we turn now to the neighbouring picture in the national gallery by the same artist, the hesperian gardens and their guard, we behold the dragon on his high crag outlining and vitalising not only the edge of rock but also the sky it meets. his breath steams up into cloud. the heavens also have their terrors, which take on eyes and coils. on the line of the horizon were hung the pictures of the primitive art-gallery. imagination painted them with brush dipped now in blackness of the storm, now in fires of the lightning or the sunset, but the forms were born of experience, of earthly struggle, defeat, and victory. as i write these words, i lay aside my pen to look across a little lake amid the lonely hills of wales to a sunset which is flooding the sky with glory. through the almost greenish sky the wind is bearing fantastic clouds, that sometimes take the shape of chariots, in which cloud-veiled forms are seated, and now great birds with variegated plumage, all hastening as it were to some gathering-place of aerial gods. beneath a long bar of maroon-tint stretches a sea of yellow light, on the hither side of which is set a garden of fleecy trees touched with golden fruit. amid them plays a fountain of changing colours. on the left has stood, fast as a mountain range, a mass of dark-blue cloud with uneven peaks; suddenly a pink faint glow shines from behind that leaden mass, and next appears, sinuous with its long indented top, the mighty folds of a fiery serpent. nay, its head is seen, its yawning lacertine jaws, its tinted crest. it is sleepless ladon on his high barrier keeping watch and ward over the hesperian garden. juno set him there, but he is the son of ge,--the earth. the tints of heaven invest and transform, and in a sense create him; but he would never have been born mythologically had it not been that in this world stings hover near all sweetness, danger environs beauty, and, as plato said, 'good things come hard.' the grace and lustre of the serpent with his fatal fang preceded him, and all the perils that lurk beneath things fair and fascinating. so far there is nothing essentially moral or unmoral about him. this dragon is a shape designed by primitive meteorology and metaphysics together. man has asked what is so, and this is the answer: he has not yet asked why it is so, whether it ought to be so, and whether it may not be otherwise. the challenge has not yet been given, the era of combat not yet arrived. the panoplied guard and ally of gods as unmoral as himself has yet to be transformed under the touch of the religious sentiment, and expelled from the heaven of nobler deities as a dragon cast down, deformed, and degraded for ever. as thought goes on, such allies compromise their employers; the creator's work reflects the creator's character; and after many timorous ages we find the dragon-guarded deities going down with their cruel defenders. it is not without significance that in the sanskrit dictionary the most ancient of all words for god, asura, has for its primary meaning 'demon' or 'devil:' the gods and dragons united to churn the ocean for their own wealth, and in the end they were tarred with one brush. i have already described in the beginning of this work the degradation of deities, and need here barely recall to the reader's memory the forces which operated to that result. the bearing of that force upon the celestial or paradise-guarding serpent is summed up in one quatrain of omar khayyám:-- o thou who man of baser earth didst make, and e'en in paradise devised the snake; for all the sin wherewith the face of man is blackened, man's forgiveness give--and take! the heart of humanity anticipated its logic by many ages, and, long before the daring genius of the persian poet wrote this immortal epitaph on the divine allies of the serpent, heroes had given battle to the whole fraternity. nay, in their place had arisen a new race of gods, whose theoretical omnipotence was gladly surrendered in the interest of their righteousness; and there was now war in heaven; the dragon and his allies were cast down, and man was now free to fight them as enemies of the gods as well as himself. woe henceforth to any gods suspected of taking sides with the dragon in this man's life-and-death struggle with the ferocities of nature, and with his own terrors reflected from them! the legend of prometheus was their unconsciously-given 'notice to quit,' though it waited many centuries for its great interpreter. it is goethe who alone has seen how pale and weak grow jove's fireworks before the thought-thunderbolts of the artist, launched far beyond the limitations that chain him in nature. gods are even yet going down in many lands before the sublime sentence of prometheus:-- curtain thy heavens, thou jove, with clouds and mist, and, like a boy that moweth thistles down, unloose thy spleen on oaks and mountain-tops; yet canst thou not deprive me of my earth, nor of my hut, the which thou didst not build, nor of my hearth, whose little cheerful flame thou enviest me! i know not aught within the universe more slight, more pitiful than you, ye gods! who nurse your majesty with scant supplies of offerings wrung from fear, and muttered prayers, and needs must starve, were't not that babes and beggars are hope-besotted fools! when i was yet a child, and knew not whence my being came, nor where to turn its powers, up to the sun i bent my wildered eye, as though above, within its glorious orb, there dwelt an ear to listen to my plaint, a heart, like mine, to pity the oppressed. who gave me succour against the titans in their tyrannous might? who rescued me from death--from slavery? thou!--thou, my soul, burning with hallowed fire, thou hast thyself alone achieved it all! yet didst thou, in thy young simplicity, glow with misguided thankfulness to him that slumbers on in idlenesse there above! i reverence thee? wherefore? hast thou ever lightened the sorrows of the heavy laden? thou ever stretch thy hand to still the tears of the perplexed in spirit? was it not almighty time, and ever-during fate-- my lords and thine--that shaped and fashioned me into the man i am? belike it was thy dream that i should hate life--fly to wastes and wilds, for that the buds of visionary thought did not all ripen into goodly flowers? here do i sit and mould men after mine own image-- a race that may be like unto myself, to suffer, weep; to enjoy, and to rejoice; and, like myself, unheeding all of thee! the myth of prometheus reveals the very dam of all dragons,--the mere terrorism of nature which paralysed the energies of man. man's first combat was to be with his own quailing heart. apollo driving back the argives to their ships with the image of the gorgon's head on jove's shield is homer's picture of the fears that unnerved heroes:-- phoebus himself the rushing battle led; a veil of clouds involved his radiant head: high held before him, jove's enormous shield portentous shone, and shaded all the field: vulcan to jove th' immortal gift consigned, to scatter hosts, and terrify mankind.... deep horror seizes ev'ry grecian breast, their force is humbled, and their fear confest. so flies a herd of oxen, scattered wide, no swain to guard them, and no day to guide, when two fell lions from the mountain come, and spread the carnage thro' the shady gloom.... the grecians gaze around with wild despair, confused, and weary all their pow'rs with prayer. [ ] a generation whose fathers remembered the time when men educated in universities regarded franklin with his lightning-rod as 'heaven-defying,' can readily understand the legend of vulcan--type of the untamed force of fire--being sent to bind prometheus, master of fire. [ ] how much fear of the forces of nature, as personified by superstition, levelled against the first creative minds and hands the epithets which franklin heard, and which still fall upon the heads of some scientific investigators! storm, lightning, rock, ocean, vulture,--these blend together with the intelligent cruelty of jove in the end; and behold, the dragon! the terrors of nature, which drive cowards to their knees, raise heroes to their height. then it is a flame of genius matched against mad thunderbolts. whether the jealous nature-god be jehovah forbidding sculpture, demanding an altar of unhewn stone, and refusing the fruits of cain's garden, or zeus jealous of the artificer's flame, they are thrown into the opposition by the artist; and when the two next meet, he of the thunderbolt with all his mob will be the dragon, and prometheus will be the god, sending to its heart his arrow of light. the dragon forms which have become familiar to us through mediæval and modern iconography are of comparatively little importance as illustrating the social or spiritual conditions out of which they grew, and of which they became emblems. they long ago ceased to be descriptive, and in the rude periods or places a very few scratches were sometimes enough to indicate the dragon; such mere suggestions in the end allowing large freedom to subsequent designers in varying original types. as to external form, the various shapes of the more primitive dragons have been largely determined by the mythologic currents amid which they have fallen, though their original basis in nature may generally be traced. in the far north, where the legends of swan-maidens, pigeon-maidens, and vampyres were paramount in the middle ages, we find the bird-shaped dragon very common. sometimes the serpent-characteristics are pronounced, as in this ancient french swan-dragon (fig. ); but, again, and especially in regions where serpents are rare and comparatively innocuous, the serpent tail is often conventionalised away, as in this initial v from the cædmon manuscript, tenth century (fig. ), a fair example of the ornamental anglo-saxon dragon. the cuttlefish seems to have suggested the animalised form of the hydra, which in turn helped to shape the dragon of the apocalypse. yet the hydra in pictorial representation appears to have been influenced by assyrian ideas; for although the monster had nine heads, it is often given seven (number of the hathors, or fates) by the engravers, as in fig. . the conflicts of hercules with the hydra repeated that of bel with tiamat ('the deep'), and had no doubt its counterpart in that of michael with the dragon,--the finest representation of which, perhaps, is the great fresco by spinello (fourteenth century) at arezzo, a group from which is presented in fig. . in this case the wings represent those always attributed in semitic mythology to the destroying angel. the egyptian dragon, of which the crocodile is the basis, at an early period entered into christian symbolism, and gradually effaced most of the pagan monsters. the crocodile and the alligator, besides being susceptible of many horrible variations in pictorial treatment, were particularly acceptable to the christian propaganda, because of the sanctity attached to them by african tribes,--a sanctity which continues to this day in many parts of that country, where to kill one of these reptiles is believed to superinduce dangerous inundations. in semitic traditions, also, leviathan was generally identified as a demonic crocodile, and the feat of destroying him was calculated to impress the imaginations of all varieties of people in the southern countries for which christianity struggled so long. this form contributed some of its characters to the lacertine dragons which were so often painted in the middle ages, with what effect may be gathered from the accompanying design by albert durer (fig. ). in this loathsome creature, which seeks to prevent deliverance of 'the spirits in prison,' we may remark the sly and cruel eye: the præternatural vision of such monsters was still strong in the traditions of the sixteenth century. in looking at this lizard-guard at the mouth of hell we may realise that it has been by some principle of psychological selection that the reptilian kingdom gradually gained supremacy in these portrayals of the repulsive. if we compare with fig. the well-known form of the chimæra (fig. ), most of us will be conscious of a sense of relief; for though the reptilian form is present in the latter, it is but an appendage--almost an ornament--to the lion. it is impossible to feel any loathing towards this spirited trisomatos, and one may recognise in it a different animus from that which depicted the christian dragon. one was meant to attest the boldness of the hero who dared to assail it; the other was meant, in addition to that, to excite hatred and horror of the monster assailed. we may, therefore, find a very distinct line drawn between such forms as the chimæra and such as the hydra, or our conventional dragon. the hairy inhabitants of lycia, human or bestial, whom bellerophon conquered, [ ] were not meant to be such an abstract expression of the evil principle in nature as the dragon, and while they are generalised, the elements included are also limited. but the dragon, with its claws, wings, scales, barbed and coiling tail, its fiery breath, forked tongue, and frequent horns, includes the organic, inorganic, the terrestrial and atmospheric, and is the combination of harmful contrivances in nature. nearly all of the dragon forms, whatever their original types and their region, are represented in the conventional monster of the european stage, which meets the popular conception. this dragon is a masterpiece of the popular imagination, and it required many generations to give it artistic shape. every christmas he appears in some london pantomime, with aspect similar to that which he has worn for many ages. his body is partly green, with memories of the sea and of slime, and partly brown or dark, with lingering shadow of storm-clouds. the lightning flames still in his red eyes, and flashes from his fire-breathing mouth. the thunderbolt of jove, the spear of wodan, are in the barbed point of his tail. his huge wings--batlike, spiked--sum up all the mythical life of extinct harpies and vampyres. spine of crocodile is on his neck, tail of the serpent, and all the jagged ridges of rocks and sharp thorns of jungles bristle around him, while the ice of glaciers and brassy glitter of sunstrokes are in his scales. he is ideal of all that is hard, obstructive, perilous, loathsome, horrible in nature: every detail of him has been seen through and vanquished by man, here or there, but in selection and combination they rise again as principles, and conspire to form one great generalisation of the forms of pain--the sum of every creature's worst. chapter ix. the combat. the pre-munchausenite world--the colonial dragon--io's journey --medusa--british dragons--the communal dragon--savage saviours --a mimac helper--the brutal dragon--woman protected--the saint of the mikados. the realm of the unknown has now, by exploration of our planet and by science, been pretty well pressed into annexation with the unknowable. in early periods, however, unexplored lands and seas existed only in the human imagination, and men appear to have included them within the laws of analogy as slowly as their descendants so included the planets. the monstrous forms with which superstition now peoples regions of space that cannot be visited could then dwell securely in parts of the world where their existence or non-existence could not be verified. science had not yet shown the simplicity and unity underlying the superficial varieties of nature; and though rudolf raspe appeared many times, and related the adventures of his baron munchausen in many languages, it was only a hundred years ago that he managed to raise a laugh over them. it has taken nearly another hundred to reveal the humour of munchausenisms that relate to invisible and future worlds. the dragon which now haunts the imagination of a few compulsory voyagers beyond the grave originated in speculations concerning the unseen shores of equally mythical realms, whose burning zones and frozen seas had not yet been detached from this planet to make the inferno of another. in our section on demonology we have considered many of these imaginary forms in detail, limiting ourselves generally to the more realistic embodiments of special obstacles. just above that formation comes the stratum in which we find the separate features of the previous demonic fauna combining to forms which indicate the new creative power which, as we have seen, makes nature over again in its own image. beginning thus on the physical plane, with a view of passing to the social, political, and metaphysical arenas where man has successively met his dragons, we may first consider the combination of terrors and perils, real and imaginary, which were confronted by the early colonist. i will venture to call this the colonial dragon. this form may be represented by any of those forms against which the prometheus of Æschylus cautions io on her way to the realm which should be called ionia. 'when thou shalt have crossed the stream that bounds the continents to the rosy realms of the morning where the sun sets forth, ... thou shalt reach beyond the roaring sea cisthene's gorgonian plains, where dwell the phorkides, ... and hard by are their three winged sisters, the snake-haired gorgons, by mortals abhorred, on whom none of human race can look and live.... be on thy guard against the gryphons, sharp-fanged hounds of jove that never bark, and against the cavalry host of one-eyed arimaspians, dwelling on the gold-gushing fount, the stream of pluto. thou wilt reach a distant land, a dark tribe, near to the fount of the sun, where runs the river Æthiops.' [ ] one who has looked upon leonardo da vinci's medusa at florence--one of the finest interpretations of a mythologic subject ever painted--may comprehend what to the early explorer and colonist were the fascinations of those rumoured regions where nature was fair but girt round with terrors. the gorgon's head alone is given, with its fearful tangle of serpent tresses; her face, even in its pain, possesses the beauty that may veil a fatal power; from her mouth is exhaled a vapour which in its outline has brought into life vampyre, newt, toad, and loathsome nondescript creatures. here is the malaria of undrained coasts, the vermin of noxious nature. the source of these must be destroyed before man can found his city; it is the fiery poisonous breath of the colonial dragon. most of the dragon-myths of great britain appear to have been importations of the colonial monsters. perhaps the most famous of these in all europe was the chimæra, which came westward upon coins, bellerophon having become a national hero at corinth--almost superseding the god of war himself--and his effigy spread with many migrations. our conventional figure of st. george is still bellerophon, though the dragon has been substituted for chimæra,--a change which christian tradition and national respect for the lion rendered necessary (fig. ). corresponding to this change in outward representation, the monster-myths of great britain have been gradually pressed into service as moral and religious lessons. the lambton worm illustrates the duty of attending mass and sanctity of the sabbath; the demon serpents of ireland and cornwall prove the potency of holy exorcism; and this process of moralisation has extended, in the case of the boar, whose head graces the christmas table at queen's college, oxford, to an illustration of the value of aristotelian philosophy. it was with a volume of aristotle that the monster was slain, the mythologic affinities of the legend being quaintly preserved in the item that it was thrust down the boar's throat. but these modifications are very transparent, the british legends being mainly variants of one or two original myths which appear to have grown out of the heraldic devices imported by ancient families. these probably acquired realistic statement through the prowess and energy of chieftains, and were exaggerated by their descendants, perhaps also connected with some benefit to the community, in order to strengthen the family tenure of its estates. for this kind of duty the colonial dragon was the one usually imported by the family romancer or poet. the multiplication of these fables is, indeed, sufficiently curious. it looks as if there were some primitive agrarian sentiment which had to be encountered by aid of appeals to exceptional warrant. the family which could trace its title to an estate to an ancestor who rescued the whole district, was careful to preserve some memorial of the feat. on account of the interests concerned in old times we should be guarded in receiving the rationalised interpretations of such myths, which have become traditional in some localities. the barbaric achievements of knights did not lose in the ballads of minstrels any marvellous splendours, but gained many; and most of these came from the south and east. the dragon which guy of warwick slew still retained traces of chimæra; it had 'paws as a lion.' sir william dugdale thought that this was a romanticised version of a real combat which guy fought with a danish chief, a.c. . similarly the dragon of wantley has been reduced to a fraudulent barrister. the most characteristic of this class of legends is that of sockburn. soon after the norman conquest the conyers family received that manor by episcopal grant, the tradition being that it was because sir john conyers, knight, slew a huge worm which had devoured many people. the falchion with which this feat was achieved is still preserved, and i believe it is still the custom, when a new bishop visits that diocese, for the lord of sockburn to present this sword. the lord of the manor meets the bishop in the middle of the river tees, and says:--'my lord bishop, i here present you with the falchion wherewith the champion conyers slew the worm, dragon, or fiery flying serpent, which destroyed man, woman, and child, in memory of which the king then reigning gave him the manor of sockburn to hold by this tenure,--that upon the first entrance of every bishop into the country this falchion should be presented.' the bishop returns the sword and wishes the lord long enjoyment of the tenure, which has been thus held since the year . the family tradition is that the dragon was a scotch intruder named comyn, whom conyers compelled to kneel before the episcopal throne. the conyers family of sockburn seem to have been at last overtaken by a dragon which was too much for them: the last knight was taken from a workhouse barely in time not to die there. in the 'memoirs of the somervilles' we read that one of that family acquired a parish by slaying a 'hydeous monster in forme of a worme.' [ ] the wode laird of laristone slew the worme of worme's glen, and wan all linton parochine. it was 'in lenth scots yards, and somewhat bigger than an ordinary man's leg, with a hede more proportionable to its lenth than its greatness; its forme and collour (like) to our common muir adders.' this was a very moderate dragon compared with others, by slaying which many knights won their spurs: this, for example, which sir dygore killed in the fourteenth century-- ----a dragon great and grymme, full of fyre, and also of venymme: with a wide throte and tuskes grete, uppon that knight fast gan he bete; and as a lionn then was his fete, his tayle was long and ful unmete; between his hede and his tayle was xxii. fote withouten fayle; his body was like a wine tonne, he shone full bright ageynst the sunne; his eyes were bright as any glasse, his scales were hard as any brasse. the familiar story of st. patrick clearing the snakes out of ireland, and the cornish version of it, in which the exorcist is st. petrox, presents some features which relate it to the colonist's combat with his dragon, though it is more interesting in other aspects. the colonial dragon includes the diseases, the wild beasts, the savages, and all manner of obstructions which environ a new country. but when these difficulties have been surmounted, the young settlement has still its foes to contend with,--war-like invaders from without, ambitious members within. we then find the dragon taking on the form of a public enemy, and his alleged slayer is representative of the commune,--possibly in the end to transmit its more real devourer. most of the british dragon-myths have expanded beyond the stage in which they represent merely the struggles of immigrants with wild nature, and include the further stage where they represent the formation of the community. the growth of patriotism at length is measured by its shadow. the colonial is transformed to the communal dragon. many dragon-myths are adaptations of the ancient symbolism to hostes communes: such are the monsters described as desolating villages and districts, until they are encountered by antagonists animated by public spirit. such antagonists are distinguishable from the heroes that go forth to rescue the maiden in distress: their chief representative in mythology is herakles, most of whose labours reveal the man of self-devotion redressing public wrongs, and raising the standard of humanity as well as civilisation. the age of chivalry has its legend in the centaurs and cheiron. the hippo-centaurs are mounted savages: cheiron is the true knight, withstanding monsters in his own shape, saving peleus from them, and giving hospitality to the argonauts. the mounted man was dragon to the man on foot until he became the chevalier; then the demonic character passed to the strategist who had no horse. it is curious enough to find existing among the mormons a murderous order calling themselves danites, or destroying angels, after the text of gen. xlix. , 'dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse's heel that his rider shall fall backward.' the ritter, however, so far as his dragon was concerned, was as one winged, and every horse a pegasus when it bore him to decide the day between the adder and its victim. it is remarkable that the mormons should have carried from the east a cruel superstition to find even among the red men, who are disappearing before the western march of saxon strength, more gentle fables. among the mimacs, the aborigines of nova scotia, there is a legend of a young hero named keekwajoo, who, in seeking for a wife, is befriended by a good sage named glooscap, who warns him against a powerful magician disguised as a beaver, and two demon sisters, who will waylay him in the disguise of large weasels. the youth is admonished to beat a certain drum as his canoe passes them, and he is saved as orpheus in passing cerberus and ulysses in sailing past the syrens. the weasels, hearing the music, aspire to wed the stars, but find themselves in an indescribable nest at the top of a tall white pine. [ ] the chevalier encounters also the brutal dragon, whose victim is woman. from immemorial time man's captive, unable to hold her own against brute force, she is at the mercy of all who are insensible to the refined and passive powers. the rock-bound andromeda, the pursued leto, or whatever fair maid it may be that the dragon-slayer rescues, may have begun mythologically as emblem of the dawn, whose swallower is the night cloud; but in the end she symbolises a brighter dawn,--that of civility and magnanimity among men. it is a notable fact that far away in japan we should find a dragon-myth which would appear to represent, with rare beauty, the social evolution we have been considering. their great mythological serpent, yamati-no-orochi, that is, the serpent of eight heads and tails, stretching over eight valleys, would pretty certainly represent a river annually overflowing its banks. one is reminded by this monster of the accounts given by mencius of the difficulties with streams which the chinese had to surmount before they could make the middle states habitable. but this colonial dragon, in the further evolution of the country, reappears as the brutal dragon. the admirable legend relates that, while the rest of the world were using stone implements, there came into the possession of sosano-o-no-mikoto (the prince of sosano) a piece of iron which was wrought into a sword. that maiden-sword of the world was fleshed to save a maiden from the jaws of a monster. the prince descended from heaven to a bank of the river hino kawa, and the country around seemed uninhabited; but presently he saw a chopped stick floating down the stream, and concluded that there must be beings dwelling farther up; so he travelled until he came to a spot where he beheld an aged man and his wife (asinaduti and tenaduti), with their beautiful daughter, himé of inada. the three were weeping bitterly, and the prince was informed that himé was the last of their daughters, seven of whom had been devoured by a terrible serpent. this serpent had eight heads, and the condition on which it had ceased to desolate the district was that one of these eight maidens should be brought annually to this spot to satisfy his voracity. the last had now been brought to complete the dreadful compact. the japanese are careful to distinguish this serpent from a dragon, with them an agathodemon. it had no feet, and its heads branched by as many necks from a single body, this body being so large that it stretched over eight valleys. it was covered with trees and moss, and its belly was red as blood. the prince doubted if even with his sword he could encounter such a monster, so he resorted to stratagem; he obtained eight vast bowls, filled them with eight different kinds of wine, and, having built a fence with the same number of openings, set a bowl in each. the result may be imagined: the eight heads in passing over the bowls paused, drank deep, and were soon in a state of beastly intoxication. in this condition the heads were severed from their neck, and the maiden saved to wed the first mikado prince. chapter x. the dragon-slayer. demigods--alcestis--herakles--the ghilghit fiend--incarnate deliverer of ghilghit--a dardistan madonna--the religion of atheism--resuscitation of dragons--st. george and his dragon--emerson and ruskin on george--saintly allies of the dragon. theology has pronounced incarnation a mystery, but nothing is simpler. the demigod is man's appeal from the gods. it may also be, as emerson says, that 'when the half-gods go the gods arrive,' but it is equally true that their coming signals the departure of deities which man had long invoked in vain. the great heraklean myth presents us the ideal of godlike force united to human sympathy. ra (the sun) passing the twelve gates (hours) of hades (night) [ ] is humanised in herakles and his twelve labours. he is son of zeus by a human mother--alcmene--and his labours for human welfare, as well as his miraculous conception, influenced christianity. the divine man assailing the monsters of divine creation represents human recognition of the fact that moral order in nature is co-extensive with the control of mankind. one expression of this perception is the alcestis of euripides, whose significance in relation to death we have considered. [ ] 'alcestis,' as i have written in another work, 'is one of the few ancient greek melodramas. the majority of dramas left us by the poets of greece turn upon religious themes, and usually they are tragedies. it is evident that to them the popular religion around them was itself a tragedy. their heroes and heroines--such as prometheus and macaria--were generally victims of the jealousy or caprice of the gods; and though the poets display in their dramas the irresistible power of the gods, they do so without reverence for that power, and generally show the human victims to be more honourable than the gods. but the 'alcestis' of euripides is not a tragedy; it ends happily, and in the rescue of one of those victims of the gods. it stands as about the first notice served on the gods that the human heart had got tired of their high-handed proceedings, and they might prepare to quit the thrones of a universe unless they could exhibit more humanity.... knowing that neither he nor any other deity can legally resist the decree of another deity, apollo is reduced to hope for help from man. human justice may save when divine justice sacrifices. he prophesies to death that although he may seize alcestis, a man will come who will conquer him, and deliver that woman from the infernal realm.... then hercules comes on the scene. he has been slaying lion and dragon, and he now resolves to conquer death and deliver alcestis. this he does.' [ ] in this pre-christian yet christian passion play, the part played by the heart of woman is equally heroic with that which represents the honour of man. so in the religion which followed there was an effort to set beside the incarnate vanquisher of infernal powers the pierced heart of mary. but among all the legends of this character it were difficult to find one more impressive than that which dr. leitner found in dardistan, and one which, despite its length, will repay a careful perusal. this legend of the origin of the ghilghit tribe and government was told by a native. 'once upon a time there lived a race at ghilghit whose origin is uncertain. whether they sprung from the soil or had immigrated from a distant region is doubtful; so much is believed that they were gayupí, i.e., spontaneous, aborigines, unknown. over them ruled a monarch who was a descendant of the evil spirits, the yatsh, who terrorised over the world. his name was shiribadatt, and he resided at a castle in front of which was a course for the performance of the manly game of polo. his tastes were capricious, and in every one of his actions his fiendish origin could be discerned. the natives bore his rule with resignation, for what could they effect against a monarch at whose command even magic aids were placed? however, the country was rendered fertile, and round the capital bloomed attractive. the heavens, or rather the virtuous peris, at last grew tired of his tyranny, for he had crowned his iniquities by indulging in a propensity for cannibalism. this taste had been developed by an accident. one day his cook brought him some mutton broth the like of which he had never tasted. after much inquiry as to the nature of the food on which the sheep had been brought up, it was eventually traced to an old woman, its first owner. she stated that her child and the sheep were born on the same day, and losing the former, she had consoled herself by suckling the latter. this was a revelation to the tyrant. he had discovered the secret of the palatability of the broth, and was determined to have a never-ending supply of it. so he ordered that his kitchen should be regularly provided with children of a tender age, whose flesh, when converted into broth, would remind him of the exquisite dish he had once so much relished. this cruel order was carried out. the people of the country were dismayed at such a state of things, and sought slightly to improve it by sacrificing, in the first place, all orphans and children of neighbouring tribes. the tyrant, however, was insatiable, and soon was his cruelty felt by many families at ghilghit, who were compelled to give up their children to slaughter. 'relief came at last. at the top of the mountain ko, which it takes a day to ascend, and which overlooks the village of doyur, below ghilghit, on the other side of the river, appeared three figures. they looked like men, but much more strong and handsome. in their arms they carried bows and arrows, and turning their eyes in the direction of doyur, they perceived innumerable flocks of sheep and cattle grazing on a prairie between that village and the foot of the mountain. the three strangers were brothers, and none of them had been born at the same time. it was their intention to make azru shemsher, the youngest, rajah of ghilghit, and, in order to achieve their purpose, they hit upon the following plan. on the already noticed prairie, which is called didingé, a sportive calf was gambolling towards and away from its mother. it was the pride of its owner, and its brilliant red colour could be seen from a distance. 'let us see who is the best marksman,' exclaimed the eldest, and, saying this, he shot an arrow in the direction of the calf, but missed his aim. the second brother also tried to hit it, but also failed. at last, azru shemsher, who took a deep interest in the sport, shot his arrow, which pierced the poor animal from side to side and killed it. the brothers, whilst descending, congratulated azru on his sportsmanship, and on arriving at the spot where the calf was lying, proceeded to cut its throat and to take out from its body the titbits, namely, the kidneys and the liver. 'they then roasted these delicacies, and invited azru to partake of them first. he respectfully declined, on the ground of his youth, but they urged him to do so, 'in order,' they said, 'to reward you for such an excellent shot.' scarcely had the meat touched the lips of azru than the brothers got up, and, vanishing into the air, called out, 'brother! you have touched impure food, which peris never should eat, and we have made use of your ignorance of this law, because we want to make you a human being [ ] who shall rule over ghilghit; remain, therefore, at doyur.' azru, in deep grief at the separation, cried, 'why remain at doyur, unless it be to grind corn?' 'then,' said the brothers, 'go to ghilghit.' 'why,' was the reply, 'go to ghilghit, unless it be to work in the gardens?' 'no, no,' was the last and consoling rejoinder; 'you will assuredly become the king of this country, and deliver it from its merciless oppressor!' no more was heard of the departing fairies, and azru remained by himself, endeavouring to gather consolation from the great mission which had been bestowed on him. a villager met him, and, struck by his appearance, offered him shelter in his house. next morning he went on the roof of his host's house, and calling out to him to come up, pointed to the ko mountain, on which, he said, he plainly discerned a wild goat. the incredulous villager began to fear he had harboured a maniac, if no worse character; but azru shot off his arrow, and, accompanied by the villager (who had assembled some friends for protection, as he was afraid his young guest might be an associate of robbers, and lead him into a trap), went in the direction of the mountain. there, to be sure, at the very spot that was pointed out, though many miles distant, was lying the wild goat, with azru's arrow transfixing its body. the astonished peasants at once hailed him as their leader, but he exacted an oath of secrecy from them, for he had come to deliver them from their tyrant, and would keep his incognito till such time as his plans for the destruction of the monster would be matured. 'he then took leave of the hospitable people of doyur, and went to ghilghit. on reaching this place, which is scarcely four miles distant from doyur, he amused himself by prowling about in the gardens adjoining the royal residence. there he met one of the female companions of shiribadatt's daughter fetching water for the princess. this lady was remarkably handsome, and of a sweet disposition. the companion rushed back, and told the young lady to look from over the ramparts of the castle at a wonderfully handsome young man whom she had just met. the princess placed herself in a place from which she could observe any one approaching the fort. her maid then returned, and induced azru to come with her in the polo ground, in front of the castle; the princess was smitten with his beauty, and at once fell in love with him. she then sent word to the young prince to come and see her. when he was admitted into her presence he for a long time denied being anything more than a common labourer. at last he confessed to being a fairy's child, and the overjoyed princess offered him her heart and hand. it may be mentioned here that the tyrant shiribadatt had a wonderful horse, which could cross a mile at every jump, and which its rider had accustomed to jump both into and out of the fort, over its walls. so regular were the leaps which this famous animal could take that he invariably alighted at the distance of a mile from the fort, and at the same place. on that very day on which the princess had admitted young azru into the fort king shiribadatt was out hunting, of which he was desperately fond, and to which he used sometimes to devote a week or two at a time. 'we must now return to azru, whom we left conversing with the princess. azru remained silent when the lady confessed her love. urged to declare his sentiments, he said that he would not marry her unless she bound herself to him by the most stringent oath; this she did, and they became in the sight of god as if they were wedded man and wife. he then announced that he had come to destroy her father, and asked her to kill him herself. this she refused; but as she had sworn to aid him in every way she could, he finally induced her to promise that she would ask her father where his soul was. 'refuse food,' said azru, 'for three or four days, and your father, who is devotedly fond of you, will ask for the reason of your strange conduct; then say, 'father, you are often staying away from me for several days at a time, and i am getting distressed lest something should happen to you; do reassure me by letting me know where your soul is, and let me feel certain that your life is safe.' this the princess promised to do, and when her father returned refused food for several days. the anxious shiribadatt made inquiries, to which she replied by making the already named request. the tyrant was for a few moments thrown into mute astonishment, and finally refused compliance with her preposterous demand. the love-smitten lady went on starving herself, till at last her father, fearful for his daughter's life, told her not to fret herself about him as his soul was of snow, in the snows, and that he could only perish by fire. the princess communicated this information to her lover. azru went back to doyur and the villages around, and assembled his faithful peasants. them he asked to take twigs of the fir-tree, bind them together, and light them; then to proceed in a body with torches to the castle in a circle, keep close together, and surround it on every side. he then went and dug out a very deep hole, as deep as a well, in the place where shiribadatt's horse used to alight, and covered it with green boughs. the next day he received information that the torches were ready. he at once ordered the villagers gradually to draw near the fort in the manner which he had already indicated. king shiribadatt was then sitting in his castle; near him his treacherous daughter, who was so soon to lose her parent. all at once he exclaimed, 'i feel very close; go out, dearest, and see what has happened.' the girl went out, and saw torches approaching from a distance; but fancying it to be something connected with the plans of her husband, she went back and said it was nothing. the torches came nearer and nearer, and the tyrant became exceedingly restless. 'air, air,' he cried, 'i feel very ill; do see, daughter, what is the matter.' the dutiful lady went, and returned with the same answer as before. at last the torch-bearers had fairly surrounded the fort, and shiribadatt, with a presentiment of impending danger, rushed out of the room, saying, 'that he felt he was dying.' he then ran to the stables and mounted his favourite charger, and with one blow of the whip made him jump over the wall of the castle. faithful to its habit the noble animal alighted at the same place, but, alas! only to find itself engulfed in a treacherous pit. before the king had time to extricate himself the villagers had run up with their torches. 'throw them upon him,' cried azru. with one accord all the blazing wood was thrown upon shiribadatt, who miserably perished.' azru was then most enthusiastically proclaimed king, celebrated his nuptials with the fair traitor, and, as sole tribute, exacted the offering of one sheep annually, instead of the human child, from every one of the natives. when azru had safely ascended the throne he ordered the tyrant's place to be levelled to the ground. the willing peasants, manufacturing spades of iron, flocked to accomplish a grateful task, and sang whilst demolishing his castle:-- 'my nature is of a hard metal,' said shiri and badatt. 'why hard? i, koto, the son of the peasant dem singh, am alone hardy; with this iron spade i raze to the ground thy kingly house. behold now, although thou art of race accursed, of shatsho malika, i, dem singh's son, am of a hard metal; for with this iron spade i level thy very palace; look out! look out!' [ ] an account of the feast of torches, instituted as a memorial of this tradition, has already been given in another connection. [ ] the legend, the festival, and the song just quoted constitute a noble human epic. that startling defiance of the icy-hearted god by the human-hearted peasant, that brave cry of the long cowering wretch who at last holds in his spade an iron weapon to wield against the hardness of nature, are the sublime pæan of the dragon-slayer. look out, ye snow-gods! man's heart is there, and woman's heart; their courage, plus the spade, can level your palaces; their love will melt you, their arts and sciences kill you: so fatal may be torches! all great religions were born in this grand atheism. as the worship of herakles meant the downfall of zeus, the worship of christ meant the overthrow of both jove and jehovah. every race adores the epoch when their fathers grew ashamed of their gods and identified them as dragons--the supreme cruelties of nature--welcoming the man who first rose from his knees and defied them. but in the end the priests of the dragon manage to secure a compromise, and by labelling him with the name of his slayer, manage to resuscitate and re-enthrone him. for, as we shall presently see, the dragon never really dies. christianity did not fail to avail itself of the dragon-slayer's prestige, which had preceded it in europe and in africa. it could not afford to offer for popular reverence saints less heroic than pagan warriors and demigods. the old dragon-myths, especially those which made the fame of herakles, were appropriated to invest saintly forms. st. michael, st. andrew, st. margaret, and many another, were pictured subduing or treading on dragons. christ was shown crushing the serpent sin, spearing the dragon death, or even issuing from its impotent jaws, like jason from the dragon. [ ] but in this competition for the laurels of dead dragon-slayers, and fierce hostility to dragons already slain, the real dragon was left to revive and flourish in security, and in the end even inherited the mantle and the palm of his own former conqueror. the miscarriage of canonisation in the case of st. george is a small and merely curious thing in itself; but it is almost mystical in its coincidence with the great miscarriage which brought the cross of christ to authorise the crucifixions of the men most like him for a thousand years. mr. john ruskin has sharply challenged ralph waldo emerson's penetrating touch on the effigy that decorates the escutcheons of england and russia. 'george of cappadocia,' says emerson, 'born at epiphania in cilicia, was a low parasite, who got a lucrative contract to supply the army with bacon. a rogue and an informer, he got rich and was forced to run from justice. he saved his money, embraced arianism, collected a library, and got promoted by a faction to the episcopal throne of alexandria. when julian came, a.d. , george was dragged to prison. the prison was burst open by the mob, and george was lynched as he deserved. and this precious knave became in good time saint george of england, patron of chivalry, emblem of victory and civility, and the pride of the best blood of the modern world.' whereon emerson further remarks that 'nature trips us up when we strut.' it is certainly rather hard for the founder of the st. george association to be told that his patron was no dragon-slayer at all, but the dragon's ally. mr. ruskin may be right in contending that whatever may have been the facts, they who made george patron saint of england still meant their homage for a hero, or at any rate not for a rogue; but he is unsatisfactory in his argument that our st. george was another who died for his faith seventy years before the bacon-contractor. even if the ruskin st. george, said to have suffered under diocletian, could be shown historical, his was a very commonplace martyrdom compared with that of a bishop torn in pieces by a 'pagan' mob. the distant christian nations would never have listened to the pagan version of the story even had it reached them. a bishop so martyred would have been the very man to give their armies a watchword. the martyr was portrayed as a dragon-slayer only as a title might be added to the name of one knighted, or the badge of an order set upon his breast; the heraldic device grew into a variant of the common legend which suggests the origin of the mythical george. 'the magician athanasius, successively an opponent of christianity, a convert, and a martyr, is his chief antagonist; and the city of alexandria appears as the empress alexandria, the wife of diocletian, and herself a convert and a martyr.' this sentence from smith's 'dictionary of greek and roman biography' tells more than professor ruskin's seventeenth-century authority. the dragon is the same athanasius whose creed sends forth its anathemas in churches dedicated to the arian canonised for having slain him! though it be granted that they who made george of cappadocia the ideal hero of england really intended their homage for a martyr and hero, it must equally be acknowledged that his halo was clearly drawn from dragon-fire. he was a man who had taken to the sword, and by it perished; so much was known and announced in his canonisation. he was honoured as 'the victor' among the greeks, therefore to-day patron of russia; as protector of crusaders, therefore now patron of england; thus is he saint of a war waged by the strong against the weak, in interest of a church and priesthood against human freedom; therefore george was taking the side of the dragon against christ, restoring the priestly power he had assailed, and delivering up his brave brothers in all history to be nailed to christianity as a cross. let george remain! whether naming fashionable temples or engraved on gold coins, the fictitious dragon-slayer will remain the right saint in the right place so long as the real dragon-slayer is made to name every power he hated, and to consecrate every lie in whose mouth he darted his spear. chapter xi. the dragon's breath. medusa--phenomena of recurrence--the brood of echidna and their survival--behemoth and leviathan--the mouth of hell--the lambton worm--ragnar--the lambton doom--the worm's orthodoxy--the serpent, superstition, and science. asura has already been mentioned as the most ancient aryan name for deity. the meaning of it is, the breather. it has also been remarked that in the course of time the word came to signify both the good and the evil spirit. what this evil breath meant in nature is told in leonardo da vinci's picture of the expiring medusa, referred to on p. , from whose breath noxious creatures are produced. it may have been that the artist meant only to interpret the gorgon as a personification of the malarious vapours of nature and their organic kindred; if so, he painted better than he knew, and has suggested that fatal vitality of the evil power which raised it to its throne as a principle coeternal with good. the phenomena of recurrence in things evil made for man the mystery of iniquity. the darkness may be dispersed, but it returns; the storm may clear away, but it gathers again; inundations, sickly seasons, dog-days, cain-winds, they go and return; the cancer is cut out and grows again; the tyrant may be slain, tyranny survives. the serpent slipping from one skin to another coils steadily into the symbol of endlessness. in another expression it is the poisonous breath of the dragon. it is this breath that cannot be killed; the special incarnations of it, any temporary brood of it, may be destroyed, but the principle in nature which produces them cannot be exterminated. dragon fables have this undertone to their brave strain. in the rig veda (v. ) it is said that when indra slew ahi, 'another more powerful was generated.' isaiah (xiv. ) cries, 'rejoice not thou, whole palestina, because the rod of him that smote thee is broken: for out of the serpent's root shall come forth a cockatrice, and his fruit shall be a fiery flying serpent.' herakles struggles with the giant robber, antæus, only to find the demon's strength restored by contact with the earth. he kills one head of the hydra only to see two grow in its place; and even when he has managed to burn away these, the central head is found to be immortal, and he can only hide it under a rock. that one is the self-multiplying principle of evil. the vast brood of echidna in mythology expresses the brood of evil in nature. echidna, daughter of ge and tartarus, earth and hell--phonetic reappearance of ahi--is half-serpent, half-woman, with black eyes, fearful and bloodthirsty. she becomes the mother of fire-breathing typhon, buried beneath the earth by jove's lightning when he aspired to scale olympus; of the dragon that guarded the hesperian garden; of the sphinx which puzzled and devoured; of three-headed cerberus; of the eagle that preyed on rock-bound prometheus; of the nemæan lion which herakles slew; of chimæra; and of scylla the monster whom homer describes sitting between two large rocks waylaying mariners on the way from italy to sicily,--possessing twelve feet, six long necks and mouths, each with three rows of rushing teeth. the dragon that cadmus slew also had terrible teeth; and it will be remembered that when these teeth were sown they sprang up as armed men. like them, the ancient dragon-myths were also sown, broadcast, in the mental and moral fields, cleared and ploughed by a new theology, and they sprang up as dogmas more hard and cruel than the ferocious forces of nature which gave birth to their ancestral monsters. what the superstitious method of interpreting nature, forced as it is to personify its painful as well as its pleasant phenomena, inevitably results in, finds illustration in the two great lines of tradition--the aryan and the semitic--which have converged to form the christian mythology. the hebrew personification, jehovah, originating in a rude period, became invested with many savage and immoral traditions; but when his worshippers had reached a higher moral culture, national sentiment had become too deeply involved with the sovereign majesty of their deity for his alleged actions to be criticised, or his absolute supremacy and omnipotence to be questioned, even to save his moral character. thus, the rabbins appear to have been at their wits' end to account for the existence of the two great monsters which had got into their sacred records--from an early mythology--behemoth and leviathan. unwilling to admit that jehovah had created foes to his own kingdom, or that creatures which had become foes to it were beyond his power to control, they worked out a theory that behemoth and leviathan were made and preserved by special order of jehovah to execute his decrees at the messianic day of judgment. they probably corresponded at an earlier period with the gryphon, or grabber, and the serpent which bit, guardians at the gate of paradise; but the need of such guards, biters, and spies by the all-powerful all-seeing shaddai having been recognised, the monsters had to be rationalised into accord with his character as a retributive ruler. hence behemoth and leviathan are represented as being fattened with the wicked, who die in order to be the food of the righteous during the unsettled times that follow the revelation of the messiah! behemoth is jehovah's 'cattle on a thousand hills' (ps. i. ). in pireque de rabbi eliezur he is described as feeding daily upon a thousand mountains on which the grass grows again every night; and the jordan supplies him with drink, as it is said in job (xl. ), 'he trusteth that he can draw up jordan into his mouth.' in the talmud these monsters are divided into two pairs, but are said to have been made barren lest their progeny should destroy the earth. they are kept in the wilderness of dendain, the mythical abode of the descendants of cain, east of eden, for the unique purpose mentioned. but now we may remark the steady progress of these monsters to the bounds of their mythological habitat. there came a time when behemoth and leviathan were hardly more presentable than other personified horrors. they too must 'take the veil,'--a period in the history of mythical, corresponding to extinction in that of actual, monsters. the following passage in the book of enoch is believed by professor drummond to be a later insertion, probably from the book of noah, and as early as the middle of the first century:--'in that day two monsters shall be divided; a female monster named leviathan, to dwell in the abyss of the sea, above the sources of the waters; but the male is called behemoth, which occupies with its breast a desolate wilderness named dendain, on the east of the garden where the elect and righteous dwell, where my grandfather (enoch) was taken up, being the seventh from adam, the first man whom the lord of the spirits created. and i asked that other angel to show me the might of these monsters, how they were separated in one day, and one was set in the depth of the sea, the other on the firm land of the wilderness. and he spoke to me, 'thou son of man, thou desirest in this to know what has been concealed.' and the other angel who went with me, and showed me what is in concealment, spake, ... 'these two monsters are prepared conformably to the greatness of god to be fed, in order that the penal judgment of god may not be in vain.' [ ] we may thus see that there were antecedents to the sentiment of aquinas,--'beati in regno coelesti videbunt poenas damnatorum, ut beatitudo illis magis complaceat.' or, perhaps, one might say rather to the logic of aquinas; for though he saw that it would be necessary for souls in bliss to be happy at vision of the damned or else deficient in bliss, it is said he could hardly be happy from thinking of the irreversible doom of satan himself. it would appear that only the followers of the genevan who anticipated his god's hell for servetus managed to adapt their hearts to such logic, and glory in the endless tortures of their fellow-creatures. an eloquent minister in new york, octavius b. frothingham, being requested to write out his views on the 'question' of everlasting damnation, began with the remark that he felt somewhat as a sportsman suddenly called upon to hunt the iguanodon. really it is behemoth and leviathan he was called to deal with. leviathan transmitted from jonah to the middle ages the idea of 'the belly of hell,' and behemoth's jaws expanded in the 'mouth of hell' of the miracle-plays; and their utility, as described in the book of enoch, perhaps originated the doctrine of souls tasting heavenly joys from the agonies of others. the dogma of hell has followed the course of its prototype with precision. it has arrived at just that period when, as in the case of enoch's inquiring, the investigator finds it has taken the veil. theologians shake their heads, call it a terrible question, write about free-will and sin, but only a few, of the fatuous sort, confess belief in the old-fashioned hell where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched. let us now take under consideration the outcome of the aryan dragon, which has travelled far to meet behemoth in the west. and it is probable that we could not, with much seeking, find an example so pregnant with instruction for our present inquiry as our little durham folk-tale of the lambton worm. this worm is said to have been slain by sir lambton, crusader, and ancestor of the earls of durham. this young lambton was a wild fellow; he was fond of fishing in the river wear, which runs near durham castle, and he had an especial taste for fishing there on sunday mornings. he was profane, and on sundays, when the people were all going to mass, they were often shocked by hearing the loud oaths which lambton uttered whenever he had no rise. one sunday morning something got hold of his hook, pulled strong, and he made sure of a good trout; what was his disappointment when instead thereof he found at the end of his line a tiny black worm. he tore it off with fierce imprecations and threw it in a well near by. however, soon after this the young man joined the crusaders and went off to the holy land, where he distinguished himself by slaying many saracens. but while he was off there things were going on badly around durham castle. some peasant passing that well into which the youth had cast the tiny black worm looked into it, and beheld a creature that made him shudder,--a diabolical big snake with nine ferocious eyes. a little time only had elapsed before this creature had grown too large for the well to hold it, and it came out and crawled on, making a path of desolation, breakfasting on a village, until it came to a small hill. around that hill it coiled with nine coils, each weighty enough to make a separate terrace. one may still see this hill with its nine terraces, and be assured of the circumstances by peasants residing near. having taken up its headquarters on this hill, the nine-eyed monster was in the habit of sallying forth every day and satisfying his hunger by devouring the plumpest family he could find, until at length the people consulted an oracle--some say a witch, others again a priest--and were told that the monster would be satisfied if it were given each day the milk of nine cows. so nine cows were got together, and a plucky dairymaid was found to milk the cows and carry it to the dragon. if a single gill of the milk was missing the monster took a dire revenge upon the nearest village. this was the unpleasant situation which young lambton found when he returned home from the crusades. he was now an altered man. he was no longer given to fishing and profanity. he felt keenly that by raising the demon out of the river wear he had brought woe upon his neighbours, and he resolved to engage the worm in single combat. but he learned that it had already been fought by several knights, and had slain them, while no wounds received by itself availed anything, since, if it were cut in twain, the pieces grew together again. the knight then consulted the oracle, witch or priest, and was told that he could prevail in the combat on certain conditions. he must provide himself with special armour, all over which must be large razor-blades. he must manage to entice the worm into the middle of the river wear, in whose waters the combat must take place. and, finally, he must vow to slay as a sacrifice the first living thing he should meet after his victory. these conditions having been fulfilled, the knight entered the stream. the dragon, not having received his milk as usual that morning, crawled from his hill seeking whom he might devour, and seeing the knight in the river, went at him. quickly he coiled around the armour, but its big razors cut him into many sections; and these sections could not piece themselves together again because the current of the river washed them swiftly away. now, observe how this dragon was pieced together mythologically. he is a storm cloud. he begins smaller than a man's hand and swells to huge dimensions; that characteristic of the howling storm was represented in the howling wolf fenris of norse mythology, who was a little pet, a sort of lapdog for the gods at first, but when full grown broke the chains that tied him to mountains, and was only fettered at last by the thread finer than cobweb, which was really the sunbeam conquering winter. then, when this worm was cut in two, the parts came together again. this feature of recurrence is especially characteristic of hydras. in the egyptian 'tale of setnau,' ptah-nefer-ka saw the river-snake twice resume its form after he had killed it with his sword,--he succeeded the third time by placing sand between the two parts; and what returning floods taught the ancient scribe remained to characterise the dragon encountered by guy of warwick, which recovered from every wound by dipping its tail in the well it had guarded. the lernean hydra had nine heads, the lambton worm nine eyes and nine folds, and drank nine cows' milk. his fondness for the milk of cows connects him straightly with the dragon vritra, whom indra slew because he stole indra's cows (that is, the good clouds, whose milk is gentle rain, and do no harm), and shut them up in a cavern to enjoy their milk himself. that is the oldest dragon fable on record, and it is said in the rig-veda that beneath indra's thunderbolt the monster broke up into pieces, and was washed away in a current of water. finally, in being destroyed at last by razor blades, the dragon is connected with that slain by ragnar, in whose armour the sun-darts of apollo had turned to icicles. in the 'death-song of ragnar lodbrach,' preserved by olaus wormius, it is said that king ella of northumberland having captured that terror of the north ( th cent.), ordered him to be thrown into a pit of serpents. his surname, lodbrach, or hair breeches, had been given because of his method of slaying a worm which devastated gothland, whose king had promised his daughter to the man who should slay the same. ragnar dressed himself in hairy skins, and threw water over the hair, which, freezing, encased him in an armour of ice. the worm, unable to bite through this, was impaled by ragnar. another version is that ragnar killed two serpents which the king of gothland had set to guard his daughter, but which had grown to such size that they terrified the country. it may be observed that the lambton story christianises the ragnar legend, showing that to be done in atonement for sin which in the other was done for love. the cornish legend of st. petrox has also taken a hint from ragnar, and announces the rescue of christians from the serpent-pit in which the pagan hero perished. the icicles reappear on the slayer of the dragon of wantley, represented by long spikes bristling from his armour. the knight lambton, remembering his vow to slay as a sacrifice the first living thing he might meet after the combat, had arranged that a dog should be placed where it would attract his eye. but it turned out that his own father came rushing to him. as he could not kill his father, he consulted the oracle again to know what would be the penalty of non-fulfilment of his vow. it was that no representative of the family should die in his bed for nine generations. the notion is still found in that neighbourhood that no earl of durham has since then died in his bed. the nine generations have long passed since any crusading lambton lived, but several peasants of the district closed their narrative with, 'strange to say, no earl of durham has died in his bed!' at the castle i talked with a servant on the estate while looking at the old statues of the knight, worm, and dairymaid, all kept there, and he told me he had heard that the late earl, as death drew nigh, asked to sit up--insisted--and died in a chair. if there be any truth in this, it would show that the family itself has some morbid feeling about the legend which has been so long told them with pride. the old well from which the little worm emerged a monster is now much overgrown, but i was told that it was for a long time a wishing-well, and the pins cast in by rustics may still be seen at the bottom of it. pins are the last offerings at the worm's well; 'wishes' its last prayers; but where go now the coins and the prayers? to propitiate a power and commute a doom resting upon much the same principles as those represented in the lambton legend. a community desolated because one man is sinful miniatures a world's doom for adam's sin. the demand of a human sacrifice is more clear in the sockburn story, where conyers offered up his only son to the holy ghost in the parish church before engaging the dragon, that being a condition of success prescribed by the 'oracle' or 'sybil.' this claim of the infernal powers represented by the worm--many-eyed, all-seeing--cannot be set aside; lambton's filial love may resist it only to have it pass as the hereditary doom of his family, representing an imputed sin. 'for i, the lord thy god, am a jealous god, and visit the sins of the fathers on the children unto the third and fourth generation.' there are processes of this kind in nature, hereditary evils, transmitted diseases and disgraces, and afflictions of many through the offences of one. but a fearful nemesis follows the deification and adoration of them. 'how can i be happy in heaven,' said a tender-hearted lady to her clerical adviser, 'when i must see others in hell?' 'you will be made to see that it is all for the best.' 'if i am to be made so heartless, i prefer to go to hell.' this genuine conversation reports the doom of all deities whose extension is in dragons. hell implies a dragon as its representative and ruler. theology may induce the abject and cowardly to subject their human hearts to the process of induration required for loyalty to such powers, but in the end it makes atheism the only salvation of brave, pure, and loving natures. the dragons' breath has clouded the ancient heavens and blighted the old gods; but the starry ideals they pursue in vain. behemoth has supplied sirloins to many priesthoods for a long time, but he has at last become too tough even for their teeth, and they feed him less carefully every year. nay, he is encountered now and then by his professional feeders, and has found even in westminster abbey his guy of warwick. nor could this desp'rate champion daunt a dun cow bigger than elephant; but he, to prove his courage sterling, cut from her enormous side a sirloin. the worms--whether semitic leviathan or aryan dragon--are nearly fossilised as to their ancient form. the sacrifice of jephtha's daughter to the one, and of young conyers to the other, found commutation in the case of man's rescue from satan by christ's descent to hades, and in the substitution of nine uneasy deaths for the demanded parricide in the lambton case; and the most direct 'survival' of these may be found in any country lad trying to cure his warts by providing a weed for them to adhere to. their end in art was in such forms as this starveling creature of callot's (fig. ), whose thin, spectacled rider, tilting at st. anthony, denotes as well the doom of all powers, however lofty, whose majesty requires tali auxilio et istis defensoribus. the dragon passes and leaves a roar of laughter behind him, in which even st. anthony could now join. but leviathan and lambton worm have combined and merged their life in a dogma; it is a dogma as remorseless and voracious as its prototype, and requires to be fed with all the milk of human kindness, or it at once begins to gnaw the foundations of christendom itself. christianity rests upon the past work of the worm in paradise, and its present work in hell. it makes no real difference whether man's belief in a universe enmeshed in serpent-coils be expressed in the hindu's cowering adoration of the venomous potentate, or the christian's imprecation upon it: fundamentally it is serpent-worship in each case. vishnu reposes on his celestial serpent; the god of dogma maintains his government by support of the infernal serpent. fear beheld him appearing in durham to vindicate the mass and the sabbath; but the same fear still sees him in the fiery world punishing sabbath-breakers and blasphemers against his creator and chief. that fear built every cathedral in christendom, and they must crumble with the phantasm evoked for their creation. the serpent in itself is a perfect type of all evil in nature. it is irreconcilable with the reign of a perfectly good and omnipotent man over the universe. no amount of casuistry can explain its co-existence with anthropomorphic love and wisdom, as all acknowledge when a parallel casuistry attempts to defend any other god than their own from deeds that are, humanly considered, evil. it is just as easy to defend the jealousy and cruelty of jove, on the ground that his ways are not as our ways, as it is to defend similar tempers in jehovah. the monster sent by one to devour prometheus is ethically atwin with the snake created by the other to bite the heel of man. man is saved from the superstitious evolution of the venomous serpent into a dragon by recognising its real evolution as seen by the eye of science. science alone can tell the true story of the serpent, and justify its place in nature. it forbids man his superstitious method of making a god in his own image, and his egotistic method of judging nature according to his private likes and dislikes, his convenience or inconvenience. taught by science man may, with a freedom the barbarian cannot feel, exterminate the serpent; with a freedom the christian cannot know, he may see in that reptile the perfection of that economy in nature which has ever defended the advancing forms of life. it judges the good and evil of every form with reference to its adaptation to its own purposes. thus science alone wields the spear of ithuriel, and beneath its touch every dragon shrinks instantly to its little shape in nature to be dealt with according to what it is. chapter xii. fate. dorè's 'love and fate'--moira and moiræ--the 'fates' of Æschylus --divine absolutism surrendered--jove and typhon--commutation of the demon's share--popular fatalism--theological fatalism--fate and necessity--deification of will--metaphysics, past and present. gustave dorè has painted a picture of 'love and fate,' in which the terrible hag is portrayed towering above the tender eros, and while the latter is extending the thread as far as he can, the wrinkled hands of destiny are the boundaries of his power, and the fatal shears close upon the joy he has stretched to its inevitable limit. to the ancient mind these two forms made the two great realms of the universe, their powers meeting in the fruit with a worm at its core, in seeds of death germinating amid the play of life, in all the limitations of man. they are projected in myths of elysium and hades, eden and the serpent, heaven and hell, and their manifold variants. perhaps there is no one line of mythological development which more clearly and impressively illustrates the forces under which grew the idea of an evil principle, than the changes which the personification of fate underwent in greece and rome. the moira, or fate with homer, is only a secondary cause, if that, and simply carries out the decrees of her father, zeus. zeus is the real fate. nevertheless, while this is the homeric theory or theology, there are intimations (see chap. xxvii. part ) that the real awe of men was already transferred from zeus to the erinnyes. this foreshadows a change of government. with hesiod we find, instead of one, three moiræ. they are no longer offspring of zeus, but, as it were, his cabinet. they do not act independently of him, but when, in pursuance of their just counsels, zeus issues decrees, the moiræ administer them. next we find the moiræ of hesiod developed by other writers into final recorders; they write the decrees of zeus on certain indestructible tablets, after which they are irrevocable and inevitable. with Æschylus we find the moiræ developed into independent and supreme powers, above zeus himself. the chained prometheus looks not to zeus but to fate for his final liberation. chorus. who, then, is the guide of necessity? prometheus. the tri-form fates and the unforgetting furies. cho. is zeus, then, less powerful than they? prom. at least 'tis certain he cannot escape his own doom. cho. and what can be zeus' doom but everlasting rule? prom. this ye may not learn; press it not. cho. surely some solemn mystery thou hidest. prom. turn to some other theme: for this disclosure time has not ripened: it must be veiled in deep mystery, for by the keeping of this secret shall come my liberty from base chains and misery. these great landmarks represent successive revolutions in the olympian government. absolutism became burthensome: as irresponsible monarch, zeus became responsible for the woes of the world, and his priests were satisfied to have an increasing share of that responsibility allotted to his counsellors, until finally the whole of it is transferred. from that time the countenance of zeus, or jupiter, shines out unclouded by responsibility for human misfortunes and earthly evils; and, on the other hand, the once beautiful fates are proportionately blackened, and they become hideous hags, the aged and lame crones of popular belief in greece and rome, every line of whose ugliness would have disfigured the face of zeus had he not been subordinated to them. moira means 'share,' and originally, perhaps, meant simply the power that meted out to each his share of life, and of the pains and pleasures woven in it till the term be reached. but as the fates gained more definite personality they began to be regarded as having also a 'share' of their own. they came to typify all the dark and formidable powers as to their inevitableness. no divine power could set them aside, or more than temporarily subdue them. fate measured out her share to the remorseless gorgon as well as to the fairest god. but where destructive power was exercised in a way friendly to man, the fates are put somewhat in the background, and the feat is claimed for some god. such, in the 'prometheus' of Æschylus, is the spirit of the wonderful passage concerning typhon, rendered with tragic depth by theodore buckley:--'i commiserated too,' says the rock-bound prometheus, 'when i beheld the earth-born inmate of the cilician caverns, a tremendous prodigy, the hundred-headed impetuous typhon, overpowered by force; who withstood all the gods, hissing slaughter from his hungry jaws, and from his eyes there flashed a hideous glare as if he would perforce overthrow the sovereignty of jove. but the sleepless shaft of jupiter came upon him, the descending thunderbolt breathing forth flame which scared him out of his presumptuous bravadoes; for having been smitten to his very soul he was crumbled to a cinder, and thunder-blasted in his prowess. and now, a hapless and paralysed form, is he lying hard by a narrow frith, pressed down beneath the roots of Ætna. and, seated on the topmost peaks, vulcan forges the molten masses whence there shall burst forth floods, devouring with full jaws the level fields of fruitful sicily; with rage such as this shall typhon boil over in hot artillery of a never glutted fire-breathing storm; albeit he hath been reduced to ashes by the thunderbolt of jupiter.' in this passage we see jove invested with the glory of defeating a great demon; but we also recognise the demon still under the protection of fate. destiny must bear that burthen. so was it said in the apocalypse satan should be loosed after being bound in the pit a thousand years; and so mohammed declared gog and magog should break loose with terror and destruction from the mountain-prison in which allah had cast them. the destructive principle had its 'share' as well as the creative and preservative principles, and could not be permanently deprived of it. gradually the fates of various regions and names were identified with the deities, whose interests, gardens, or treasures they guarded; and when some of these deities were degraded their retainers were still more degraded, while in other cases deities were enabled to maintain fair fame by fables of their being betrayed and their good intentions frustrated by such subordinates. thus we find a certain notion of technical and official power investing such figures as satan, ahriman, iblis, and the dragon, as if the upper gods could not disown or reverse altogether the bad deeds done by these commissioners. but the large though limited degree of control necessarily claimed for the greatest and best gods had to be represented theologically. hence there was devised a system of commutation. the demon or dragon, though abusing his power, could not have it violently withdrawn, but might be compelled to accept some sacrifice in lieu of the precise object sought by his voracity. these substitutions are found in every theological system, and to apply them to individuals constitutes the raison d'être of every priesthood. in the progress towards civilisation the substitutes diminish in value, and finally they become merely nominal and ceremonial,--an effigy of a man instead of the man, or wine instead of blood. at first the commutation was often in the substitution of persons of lower for others of higher rank, as when slaves or wives were, or are, sacrificed to assure paradise to the master or husband. thus, death is allowed to take alcestis instead of admetus. a higher degree of civilisation substitutes animals for human victims. in keeping with this is the legend of christ's sending demons out of two men into a herd of swine: [ ] which, again, is referable to the same class of ideas as the legend that followed concerning jesus himself as a vicarious offering; mankind in this case being the herd, as compared with the son of a god, and the transfer of the satanic power from the human race to himself, for even a little time, being accepted in theology as an equivalent, on account of the divine dignity of the being who descended into hell. it was some time, however, before theology worked out this theory as it now stands, the candid fathers having rejoiced in the belief that the contract for commutation on its face implied that christ was to remain for ever in hell, satan being outwitted in this. the ancient babylonian charms often end with the refrain:--'may the enchantment go forth and to its own dwelling-place betake itself,' every evil spirit was supposed to have an appropriate dwelling, as in the case of judas, into whom satan entered, [ ] and of whom it is said he 'by transgression fell, that he might go to his own place. [ ] very ingenious are some of the ancient speculations concerning the habitations and congenial resorts of demons. in some regions the colour of a disease on the skin is supposed to indicate the tastes of the demon causing it; and the spells of exorcism end by assigning him to something of the same hue. the demon of jaundice is generally consigned to the yellow parrots, and inflammation to the red or scarlet weeds. their colours are respected. humanity is little considered in the eastern formulas of this kind, and it is pretty generally the case that in praying against plague or famine, populations are often found selecting a tribe to which their trouble is adjured to betake itself. 'may nin-cigal,' says a babylonian exorcism, 'turn her face towards another place; may the noxious spirit go forth and seize another; may the female cherub and the female demon settle upon his body; may the king of heaven preserve, may the king of earth preserve!' so is it in regions and times which we generally think of as semi-barbarous. but every now and then communities which fancy themselves civilised and enlightened are brought face to face with the popular fatalism in its pagan form, and are shocked thereat, not remembering that it is equally the dogma of vicarious satisfaction or atonement. a lady residing in the neighbourhood of the traunsee, austria, informs me that recently two men were nearly drowned in that lake, being rescued at the last moment and brought to life with great difficulty. but this incident, instead of causing joy among the neighbours of the men, excited their displeasure; and this not because the rescued were at all unpopular, but because of a widespread notion that the destinies required two lives, that they would have to be presently satisfied with two others, and that since the agonies of the drowning men had passed into unconsciousness, it would have been better to surrender the selected victims to their fate. at elsinore, in denmark, when the sea moans it is said to 'want somebody,' and it is generally the case that some story of a person just drowned circulates afterwards. while the early mythological forms of the fates diminish and pass away as curious superstitions, they return in metaphysical disguises. they gather their kindred in primitive sciences and cosmogonies, and finding their old home swept free of pagan demons, and, garnished with philosophic phrases, they enter as grave theories; but their subtlety and their sting is with them, and the last state of the house they occupy is worse than the first. yes, worse: for all that man ever won of courage or moral freedom, by conquering his dragons in detail, he surrenders again to the phantom-forces they typified when he gives up his mind to belief in a power not himself that makes for evil. the terrible conclusion that evil is a positive and imperishable principle in the universe carries in it the poisonous breath of every dragon. it lurks in all theology which represents the universe as an arena of struggle between good and evil principles, and human life as a war of the soul against the flesh. it animates all the pious horrors which identify materialism with wickedness. it nestles in the mind which imagines a personal deity opposed by any part of nature. it coils around every heart which adores absolute sovereign will, however apotheosised. all of these notions, most of all belief in a supreme arbitrary will, are modern disguises of fate; and belief in fate is the one thing fatal to human culture and energy. the notion of fate (fatum, the word spoken) carries in it the conception of arbitrariness in the universe, of power deliberately exerted without necessary reference to the nature of things; and it is precisely opposed to that idea of necessity taught by science, which is another name for the supremacy of law. happily the notion of a universe held at the mercy of a personal decree is suicidal in a world full of sorrows and agonies, which, on such a theory, can only be traced to some individual caprice or malevolence. however long abject fear may silence the lips of the suffering, rebellion is in their hearts. every blow inflicted, directly or permissively, by mere will, however omnipotent, every agony that is consciously detached from universal organic necessity, in order that it may be called 'providential,' can arouse no natural feeling in man nobler than indignation. the feeling of a suitor in a court of law, who knows that the adverse judgment that ruins him has no root in the facts or the law, but proceeds from the prejudice or whim of the judge, can be nowise different from that of a mother who sees her son stricken down by death, and hears at his grave that he was consumed by the wrath of a god who might have yielded to her prayer, but refused it. the heart's protest may be throttled for a time by the lingering coil of terror, but it is there, and christian theologians will be as anxious to protect their deity from it, at whatever cost to his sovereignty, as their predecessors who invented the cabinet of women to relieve jove from responsibility. metaphysics--which appear to have developed into the art of making things look true in words when their untruth in fact has been detected--have indeed already set about the task just predicted. eminent divines are found writing about matter and spirit, freedom and natural law, as solemnly as if all this discussion were new, and had never been carried out to its inevitable results. they can only put in christian or modern phraseology conclusions which have been reached again and again in the history of human speculation. the various schools of buddhist and vedantist philosophy have come by every conceivable route to their fundamental unity of belief in god, soul, and matter; in a pessimist visible nature, an ideal invisible nature, and a human soul held in matter like a frog in a snake's mouth, but able by certain mysterious, mostly metaphysical or verbal, tactics, to gain release, and pass into a corresponding situation in the deity. 'as a king, whose son had strayed away from him and lived in ignorance of his father among the veddahs (wild men), will, on discovering his son, exclaim, 'come to me, my darling son!' and make him a participator of the happiness he himself enjoys, even so will the supreme god present himself before the soul when in distress--the soul enmeshed in the net of the five veddahs (senses), and, severing that soul from pâsam (matter), assimilate it to himself, and bless it at his holy feet.' it is too late for man to be interested in an 'omnipotent' personality, whose power is mysteriously limited at the precise point when it is needed, and whose moral government is another name for man's own control of nature. nevertheless, this oriental pessimism is the pauline theory of matter, and it is the speculative protoplasm out of which has been evolved, in many shapes, that personification which remains for our consideration--the devil. part iv. the devil. chapter i. diabolism. dragon and devil distinguished--dragons' wings--war in heaven-- expulsion of serpents--dissolution of the dragon--theological origin of the devil--ideal and actual--devil dogma--debasement of ideal persons--transmigration of phantoms. 'we are all nothing other than wills,' says st. augustine; and he adds that of the good and bad angels the nature is the same, the will different. in harmony with this john beaumont says, 'a good desire of mind is a good god.' [ ] to which all the mythology of evil adds, a bad desire of mind is a devil. every personification of an evil will looks beyond the outward phenomena of pain, and conceives a heart that loves evil, a spirit that makes for wickedness. at this point a new element altogether enters. the physical pain incidentally represented by the demon, generalised and organised into a principle of harmfulness in the dragon, begins now to pass under the shadow cast by the ascending light of man's moral nature. man becomes conscious of moral and spiritual pains: they may be still imaginatively connected with bodily agonies, but these drop out of the immediate conception, disappear into a distant future, and are even replaced by the notion of an evil symbolised by pleasure. the fundamental difference between either a demon or dragon and a devil may be recognised in this: we never find the former voluntarily bestowing physical pleasure or happiness on man, whereas it is a chief part of the notion of a devil that he often confers earthly favours in order to corrupt the moral nature. there are, indeed, apparent exceptions to this theorem presented in the agatho-dragons which have already been considered in our chapter on the basilisk; but the reader will observe that there is no intimation in such myths of any malign ulterior purpose in the good omens brought by those exceptional monsters, and that they are really forms of malevolent power whose afflictive intent is supposed to have been vanquished by the superior might of the heroes or saints to whose glory they are reluctantly compelled to become tributary. undoubtedly the dragon attended this moral and religious development of man's inward nature very far, and still occupies, as at once prisoner and gaoler in the underworld, a subordinate relation to it. in the long process he has undergone certain transformations, and in particular his attribute of wings, if not derived from the notion of his struggle against holier beings, seems to have been largely enhanced thereby. the exceptional wings given to serpents in greek art, those, for instance, which draw demeter and persephone in their chariot, are trifling as compared with the fully-developed wings of our conventional dragon of the christian era. such wings might have been developed occasionally to denote the flying cloud, the fire-breathing storm, or explain how some ráhu was enabled to pursue the sun and moon and swallow them temporarily in the phenomena of eclipse. but these wings grew to more important dimensions when they were caught up into the semitic conception of winged genii and destroying angels, and associated with an ambitious assault on heaven and its divine or angelic occupants. 'there was war in heaven,' says the apocalypse. the traditional descriptions of this war follow pretty closely, in dramatic details, other and more ancient struggles which reflect man's encounters with the hardships of nature. in those encounters man imagined the gods descending earthward to mingle in the fray; but even where the struggle mounted highest the scenery is mainly terrestrial and the issues those of place and power, the dominion of visible light established above darkness, or of a comparatively civilised over a savage race. the wars between the devas and asuras in india, the devs and ahuras in persia, buddha and the nagas in ceylon, garúra and the serpent-men in the north of india, gods and frost-giants in scandinavia, still concern man's relation to the fruits of the earth, to heat and frost, to darkness or storm and sunshine. but some of these at length find versions which reveal their tendency towards spiritualisation. the differences presented by one of these legends which has survived among us in nearly its ancient form from the same which remains in a partly mystical form will illustrate the transitional phase. thus, garúra expelling the serpents from his realm in india is not a saintly legend; this exterminator of serpents is said to have compelled the reptile race to send him one of their number daily that he might eat it, and the rationalised tradition interprets this as the prince's cannibalism. the expulsion of nagas or serpents from ceylon by buddha, in order that he might consecrate that island to the holy law, marks the pious accentuation of the fable. the expulsion of snakes from ireland by st. patrick is a legend conceived in the spirit of the curse pronounced upon the serpent in eden, but in this case the modern myth is the more primitive morally, and more nearly represents the exploit of garúra. st. patrick expels the snakes that he may make ireland a paradise physically, and establish his reputation as an apostle by fulfilling the signs of one named by christ; [ ] and in this particular it slightly rises above the hindu story. in the case of the serpent cursed in eden a further moralisation of the conflict is shown. the serpent is not present in eden, as in the realms of garúra and st. patrick, for purposes of physical devastation or pain, but to bestow a pleasure on man with a view to success in a further issue between himself and the deity. yet in this eden myth the ancient combat is not yet fairly spiritualised; for the issue still relates, as in that between the devas and asuras, to the possession of a magical fruit which by no means confers sanctity. in the apocalyptic legend of the war in heaven, [ ] the legend has become fairly spiritualised. the issue is no longer terrestrial, it is no longer for mere power; the dragon is arrayed against the woman and child, and against the spiritual 'salvation' of mankind, of whom he is 'accuser' and 'deceiver.' surely nobody could be 'deceived' by 'a great fiery-red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns'! in this vision the dragon is pressed as far as the form can go in the symbolisation of evil. to devour the child is its legitimate work, but as 'accuser of the brethren before god day and night' the monstrous shape were surely out of place by any mythologic analogy; and one could hardly imagine such a physiognomy capable of deceiving 'the whole world.' it is not wonderful, therefore, that the dragon's presence in heaven is only mentioned in connection with his fall from it. it is significant that the wings are lost in this fall; for while his 'angelic' relationship suggests the previous wings, the woman is able to escape the fallen monster by the two wings given her. [ ] wingless now, 'the old serpent' once more, the monster's shape has no adaptation to the moral and religious struggle which is to ensue. for his shape is a method, and it means the perfection of brute force. that, indeed, also remains in the sequel of this magnificent myth. as in the legend of the hydra two heads spring up in place of that which falls, so in this christian legend out of the overthrown monster, henceforth himself concealed, two arise from his inspiration,--the seven-headed, ten-horned beast who continues the work of wrath and pain; but also a lamb-like beast, with only two horns (far less terrible), and able to deceive by his miracles, for he is even able to call down fire from heaven. the ancient serpent-dragon, the expression of natural pain, thus goes to pieces. his older part remains to work mischief and hurt; and the cry is uttered, 'be merry, ye heavens, and ye that tabernacle in them: woe to the earth and the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath because he knows that he has a short time.' [ ] but there is a lamb-like part of him too, and his relation to the dragon is only known by his voice. this subtle adaptation of the symbol of external pain to the representation of the moral struggle, wherein the hostile power may assume deceptive forms of beauty and pleasure, is only one impressive illustration of the transfer of human conceptions of evil from outward to inward nature. the transition is from a malevolent, fatal, principle of harmfulness to the body to a malevolent, fatal, principle of evil to the conscience. the demon was natural; the dragon was both physical and metaphysical; the devil was and is theological. in the primitive zoroastrian theology, where the devil first appears in clear definition, he is the opponent of the good mind, and the combat between the two, ormuzd and ahriman, is the spiritualisation of the combat between light and darkness, pain and happiness, in the external world. as these visible antagonists were supposed to be exactly balanced against each other, so are their spiritual correlatives. the two minds are described as twins. 'those old spirits, who are twins, made known what is good and what is evil in thoughts, words, and deeds. those who are good distinguished between the two; not so those who are evil-doers. 'when these two spirits came together they made first life and death, so that there should be at last the most wretched life for the bad, but for the good blessedness. 'of these two spirits the evil one chose the worst deeds; the kind spirit, he whose garment is the immovable sky, chose what is right.' [ ] this metaphysical theory follows closely the primitive scientific observations on which it is based; it is the cold of the cold, the gloom of the darkness, the sting of death, translated into some order for the intellect which, having passed through the dragon, we find appearing in this persian devil; and against his blackness the glory of the personality from whom all good things proceed shines out in a splendour no longer marred by association with the evil side of nature. ormuzd is celebrated as 'father of the pure world,' who sustains 'the earth and the clouds that they do not fall,' and 'has made the kindly light and the darkness, the kindly sleep and the awaking;' [ ] at every step being suggested the father of the impure world, the unkindly light, darkness or sleep. the ecstasy which attended man's first vision of an ideal life defied the contradictory facts of outward and inward nature. so soon as he had beheld a purer image of himself rising above his own animalism, he must not only regard that animalism as an instigation of a devil, but also the like of it in nature; and this conception will proceed pari passu with the creation of pure deities in the image of that higher self. there was as yet no philosophy demanding unity in the cosmos, or forbidding man to hold as accursed so much of nature as did not obviously accord with his ideals. mr. edward b. tylor has traced the growth of animism from man's shadow and his breathing; sir john lubbock has traced the influence of dreams in forming around him a ghostly world; mr. herbert spencer has given an analysis of the probable processes by which this invisible environment was shaped for the mental conception in accordance with family and social conditions. but it is necessary that we should here recognise the shadow that walked by the moral nature, the breathings of religious aspiration, and the dreams which visited a man whose moral sense was so generally at variance with his animal desires. the code established for the common good, while necessarily having a relation to every individual conscience, is a restriction upon individual liberty. the conflict between selfishness and duty is thus inaugurated; it continues in the struggle between the 'law in the members and the law in the spirit,' which led paul to beat his body (hypopiaxomai) to keep it in subjection; it passes from the latin poet to the englishman, who turns his experience to a rune-- i see the right, and i approve it too; condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue. as the light which cast it was intense, even so intense was the shadow it cast beneath all it could not penetrate. passionate as was the saintliest man's love of good, even so passionate was his spiritual enemy's love of evil. high as was the azure vault that mingled with his dreams of purity, so deep was the abyss beneath his lower nature. the superficial equalities of phenomena, painful and pleasurable, to his animal nature had cast the mould into which his theories of the inward and the moral phenomena must be cast; and thus man--in an august moment--surrendered himself to the dreadful conception of a supreme principle of wickedness: wherever good was there stood its adversary; wherever truth, there its denier; no light shone without the dark presence that would quench it; innocence had its official accuser, virtue its accomplished tempter, peace its breaker, faith its disturber and mocker. nay, to this impersonation was added the last feature of fiendishness, a nature which found its supreme satisfaction in ultimately torturing human beings for the sins instigated by himself. it is open to question how far any average of mankind really conceived this theological dogma. easy as it is to put into clear verbal statement; readily as the analogies of nature supply arguments for and illustrations of a balance between moral light and darkness, love and hatred; yet is man limited in subjective conceptions to his own possibilities, and it may almost be said that to genuinely believe in an absolute fiend a man would have to be potentially one himself. but any human being, animated by causeless and purposeless desire to inflict pain on others, would be universally regarded as insane, much more one who would without motive corrupt as well as afflict. even theological statements of the personality of evil, and what that implies, are rare. the following is brave enough to be put on record, apart from its suggestiveness. 'it cannot be denied that as there is an inspiration of holy love, so is there an inspiration of hatred, or frantic pleasure, with which men surrender themselves to the impulses of destructiveness; and when the popular language speaks of possessions of satan, of incarnate devils, there lies at the bottom of this the grave truth that men, by continued sinning, may pass the ordinary limit between human and diabolic depravity, and lay open in themselves a deep abyss of hatred which, without any mixture of self-interest, finds its gratification in devastation and woe.' [ ] on this it may be said that the popular commentary on cases of the kind is contained in the very phrase alluded to, 'possession,'--the implication being that such disinterested depravity is nowise possible within the range of simple human experience,--and, in modern times, 'possessions' are treated in asylums. morbid conditions, however, are of such varied degrees that it is probable many have imagined a being in whom their worst impulses are unrestrained, and thus there have been sufficient popular approximations to an imaginative conception of a devil to enable the theological dogma, which few can analyse, to survive. it must not be supposed, however, that the moral and spiritual ideals, to which allusion has just been made, are normally represented in the various devils which we have to consider. it is the characteristic of personifications, whether celestial or infernal, to supersede gradually the ideas out of which they spring. as in the fable of agni, who is said to have devoured his parents when he was born, a metaphor of fire consuming the two sticks which produce it, religious history shows both deities and devils, by the flame of personal devotion or hatred they engender, burning up the ideas that originate them. when instead of unconscious forces and inanimate laws working to results called good and evil, men see great personal wills engaged in personal conflict, the universe becomes a government of combat; the stars of heaven, the angels and the imps, men and women, the very plants and animals, are caught up in the battle, to be marshalled on one side or the other; and in the military spirit and fury of the struggle the spiritual ideals become as insignificant beneath the phantom-hosts they evoked as the violets and daisies which an army tramples in its march. there is little difference at last between the moral characteristics of the respective armies of ormuzd and ahriman, michael and satan; their strategy and ferocity are the same. [ ] wherever the conception is that of a universe divided into hostile camps, the appropriate passions are kindled, and in the thick of the field, where cruelty and gentleness met, is seen at last a horned beast confronted by a horned lamb. [ ] on both sides is exaltation of the horn. we need only look at the outcome of the gentle and lowly jesus through the exigencies of the church militant to see how potent are such forces. although lay christians of ordinary education are accustomed to rationalise their dogmas as well as they can, and dwell on the loving and patient characteristics of jesus, the horns which were attached to the brow of him who said, 'love your enemies' by ages of christian warfare remain still in the christ of theology, and they are still depended on to overawe the 'sinner.' in an orthodox family with which i have had some acquaintance, a little boy, who had used naughty expressions of resentment towards a playmate was admonished that he should be more like christ, 'who never did any harm to his enemies.' 'no,' answered the wrathful child, 'but he's a-going to.' as in demonology we trace the struggles of man with external obstructions, and the phantasms in which these were reflected until they were understood or surmounted, we have now to consider the forms which report human progression on a higher plane,--that of social, moral, and religious evolution. creations of a crude theology, in its attempt to interpret the moral sentiment, the devils to which we now turn our attention have multiplied as the various interests of mankind have come into relations with their conscience. every degree of ascent of the moral nature has been marked by innumerable new shadows cast athwart the mind and the life of man. every new heaven of ideas is followed by a new earth, but ere this conformity of things to thoughts can take place struggles must come and the old demons will be recalled for new service. as time goes on things new grow old; the fresh issues pass away, their battlefields grow cold; then the brood of superstition must flit away to the next field where carrion is found. foul and repulsive as are these vultures of the mind--organisms of moral sewage--every one of them is a witness to the victories of mankind over the evils they shadow, and to the steady advance of a new earth which supplies them no habitat but the archæologist's page. chapter ii. the second best. respect for the devil--primitive atheism--idealisation--birth of new gods--new gods diabolised--compromise between new gods and old--foreign deities degraded--their utilisation. a lady residing in hampshire, england, recently said to a friend of the present writer, both being mothers, 'do you make your children bow their heads whenever they mention the devil's name? i do,' she added solemnly,--'i think it's safer.' this instance of reverence for the devil's name, occurring in a respectable english family, may excite a smile; but if my reader has perused the third and fourth chapters (part i.) of this work, in which it was necessary to state certain facts and principles which underlie the phenomena of degradation in both demonology and devil-lore, he will already know the high significance of nearly all the names which have invested the personifications of evil; and he will not be surprised to find their original sanctity, though lowered, sometimes, surviving in such imaginary forms after the battles in which they were vanquished have passed out of all contemporary interest. if, for example, instead of the devil, whose name is uttered with respect in the hampshire household, any theological bogey of our own time were there mentioned, such as 'atheist,' it might hardly receive such considerate treatment. the two chapters just referred to anticipate much that should be considered at this point of our inquiry. it is only necessary here to supplement them with a brief statement, and to some extent a recapitulation, of the processes by which degraded deities are preserved to continue through a structural development and fulfil a necessary part in every theological scheme which includes the conception of an eternal difference between good and evil. every personification when it first appears expresses a higher and larger view. when deities representing the physical needs of mankind have failed, as they necessarily must, to meet those needs, atheism follows, though it cannot for a long time find philosophical expression. it is an atheism ad hoc, so to say, and works by degrading particular gods instead of by constructing antitheistic theories. successive dynasties of deities arise and flourish in this way, each representing a less arbitrary relation to nature,--peril lying in that direction,--and a higher moral and spiritual ideal, this being the stronghold of deities. it is obvious that it is far easier to maintain the theory that prayers are heard and answered by a deity if those prayers are limited to spiritual requests, than when they are petitions for outward benefits. by giving over the cruel and remorseless forces of nature to the devil,--i.e., to this or that personification of them who, as gods, had been appealed to in vain to soften such forces,--the more spiritual god that follows gains in security as well as beauty what he surrenders of empire and omnipotence. this law, illustrated in our chapter on fate, operates with tremendous effect upon the conditions under which the old combat is spiritualised. an eloquent preacher has said:--'hawthorne's fine fancy of the youth who ascribed heroic qualities to the stone face on the brow of a cliff, thus converting the rocky profile into a man, and, by dint of meditating on it with admiring awe, actually transferred to himself the moral elements he worshipped, has been made fact a thousand times, is made fact every day, by earnest spirits who by faithful longing turn their visions into verities, and obtain live answers to their petitions to shadows.' [ ] however imaginary may be the benedictions so derived by the worshipper from his image, they are most real as they redound to the glory and power of the image. the crudest personification, gathering up the sanctities of generations, associated with the holiest hopes, the best emotions, the profoundest aspirations of human nature, may be at length so identified with these sentiments that they all seem absolutely dependent upon the image they invest. every criticism of such a personification then seems like a blow aimed at the moral laws. if educated men are still found in christendom discussing whether morality can survive the overthrow of such personifications, and whether life were worth living without them, we may readily understand how in times when the social, ethical, and psychological sciences did not exist at all, all that human beings valued seemed destined to stand or fall with the person supposed to be their only keystone. but no personage, however highly throned, can arrest the sun and moon, or the mind and life of humanity. with every advance in physical or social conditions moral elements must be influenced; every new combination involves a recast of experiences, and presently of convictions. henceforth the deified image can only remain as a tyrant over the heart and brain which have created it,-- creatura a un tempo e tiranno de l'uom, da cui soltanto ebbe nomi ed aspetti e regno e altari. [ ] this personification, thus 'at once man's creature and his tyrant,' is objectively a name. but as it has been invested with all that has been most sacred, it is inevitable that any name raised against it shall be equally associated with all that has been considered basest. this also must be personified, for the same reason that the good is personified; and as names are chiefly hereditary, it pretty generally happens that the title of some fallen and discredited deity is advanced to receive the new anathema. but what else does he receive? the new ideas; the growing ideals and the fresh enthusiasms are associated with some fantastic shape with anathematised name evoked from the past, and thus a portentous situation is reached. the worshippers of the new image will not accept the bad name and its base associations; they even grow strong enough to claim the name and altars of the existing order, and give battle for the same. then occurs the demoralisation, literally speaking, of the older theology. the personification reduced to struggle for its existence can no longer lay emphasis upon the moral principles it had embodied, these being equally possessed by their opponents; nay, its partisans manage to associate with their holy name so much bigotry and cruelty that the innovators are at length willing to resign it. the personal loyalty, which is found to continue after loyalty to principles has ceased, proceeds to degrade the virtues once reverenced when they are found connected with a rival name. 'he casteth out devils through beelzebub' is a very ancient cry. it was heard again when tertullian said, 'satan is god's ape.' st. augustine recognises the similarity between the observances of christians and pagans as proving the subtle imitativeness of the devil; the phenomena referred to are considered elsewhere, but, in the present connection, it may be remarked that this readiness to regard the same sacrament as supremely holy or supremely diabolical as it is celebrated in honour of one name or another, accords closely with the reverence or detestation of things more important than sacraments, as they are, or are not, consecrated by what each theology deems official sanction. when sects talk of 'mere morality' we may recognise in the phrase the last faint war-cry of a god from whom the spiritual ideal has passed away, and whose name even can survive only through alliance with the new claimant of his altars. while the new gods were being called devils the old ones were becoming such. the victory of the new ideal turns the old one to an idol. but we are considering a phase of the world when superstition must invest the new as well as the old, though in a weaker degree. a new religious system prevails chiefly through its moral superiority to that it supersedes; but when it has succeeded to the temples and altars consecrated to previous divinities, when the ardour of battle is over and conciliation becomes a policy as well as a virtue, the old idol is likely to be treated with respect, and may not impossibly be brought into friendly relation with its victorious adversary. he may take his place as 'the second best,' to borrow goethe's phrase, and be assigned some function in the new theologic régime. thus, behind the simplicity of the hampshire lady instructing her children to bow at mention of the devil's name, stretch the centuries in which christian divines have as warmly defended the existence of satan as that of god himself. with sufficient reason: that infernal being, some time god's 'ape' and rival, was necessarily developed into his present position and office of agent and executioner under the divine government. he is the great second best; and it is a strange hallucination to fancy that, in an age of peaceful inquiry, any divine personification can be maintained without this patient goat, who bears blame for all the faults of nature, and who relieves divine love from the odium of supplying that fear which is the mother of devotion,--at least in the many millions of illogical eyes into which priests can still look without laughing. such, in brief outline, has been the interaction of moral and intellectual forces operating within the limits of established systems, and of the nations governed by them. but there are added factors, intensifying the forces on each side, when alien are brought into rivalry and collision with national deities. in such a contest, besides the moral and spiritual sentiments and the household sanctities, which have become intertwined with the internal deities, national pride is also enlisted, and patriotism. but on the other side is enlisted the charm of novelty, and the consciousness of fault and failure in the home system. every system imported to a foreign land leaves behind its practical shortcomings, puts its best foot forward--namely, its theoretical foot--and has the advantage of suggesting a way of escape from the existing routine which has become oppressive. napoleon i. said that no people profoundly attached to the institutions of their country can be conquered; but what people are attached to the priestly system over them? that internal dissatisfaction which, in secular government, gives welcome to a dashing corsican or a prince of orange, has been the means of introducing many an alien religion, and giving to many a prophet the honour denied him in his own country. buddha was a hindu, but the triumph of his religion is not in india; zoroaster was a persian, but there are no parsees in persia; christianity is hardly a colonist even in the native land of christ. these combinations and changes were not effected without fierce controversies, ferocious wars, or persecutions, and the formation of many devils. nothing is more normal in ancient systems than the belief that the gods of other nations are devils. the slaughter of the priests of baal corresponds with the development of their god into beelzebub. in proportion to the success of olaf in crushing the worshippers of odin, their deity is steadily transformed to a diabolical wild huntsman. but here also the forces of partial recovery, which we have seen operating in the outcome of internal reform, manifest themselves; the vanquished, and for a time outlawed deity, is, in many cases, subsequently conciliated and given an inferior, and, though hateful, a useful office in the new order. sometimes, indeed, as in the case of the hindu destroyer siva, it is found necessary to assign a god, anathematised beyond all power of whitewash, to an equal rank with the most virtuous deity. political forces and the exigencies of propagandism work many marvels of this kind, which will meet us in the further stages of our investigation. every superseded god who survives in subordination to another is pretty sure to be developed into a devil. euphemism may tell pleasant fables about him, priestcraft may find it useful to perpetuate belief in his existence, but all the evils of the universe, which it is inconvenient to explain, are gradually laid upon him, and sink him down, until nothing is left of his former glory but a shining name. chapter iii. ahriman: the divine devil. mr. irving's impersonation of superstition--revolution against pious privilege--doctrine of 'merits'--saintly immorality in india--a pantheon turned inferno--zendavesta on good and evil-- parsî mythology--the combat of ahriman with ormuzd--optimism-- parsî eschatology--final restoration of ahriman. any one who has witnessed mr. henry irving's scholarly and masterly impersonation of the character of louis xi. has had an opportunity of recognising a phase of superstition which happily it were now difficult to find off the stage. nothing could exceed the fine realism with which that artist brought before the spectator the perfected type of a pretended religion from which all moral features have been eliminated by such slow processes that the final success is unconsciously reached, and the horrible result appears unchecked by even any affectation of actual virtue. we see the king at sound of a bell pausing in his instructions for a treacherous assassination to mumble his prayers, and then instantly reverting to the villany over whose prospective success he gloats. in the secrecy of his chamber no mask falls, for there is no mask; the face of superstition and vice on which we look is the real face which the ages of fanaticism have transmitted to him. such a face has oftener been that of a nation than that of an individual, for the healthy forces of life work amid the homes and hearts of mankind long before their theories are reached and influenced. such a face it was against which the moral insurrection which bears the name of zoroaster arose, seeing it as physiognomy of the evil mind, naming it ahriman, and, in the name of the conscience, aiming at it the blow which is still felt across the centuries. ingenious theorists have accounted for the iranian philosophy of a universal war between ormuzd (ahuramazda) the good, and ahriman (angromainyus) the evil, by vast and terrible climatic changes, involving extremes of heat and cold, of which geologists find traces about old iran, from which a colony of aryans migrated to new iran, or persia. but although physical conditions of this character may have supplied many of the metaphors in which the conflict between good and evil is described in the avesta, there are other characteristics of that ancient scripture which render it more probable that the early colonisation of persia was, like that of new england, the result of a religious struggle. some of the gods most adored in india reappear as execrated demons in the religion of zoroaster; the hindu word for god is the parsî word for devil. these antagonisms are not merely verbal; they are accompanied in the avesta with the most furious denunciations of theological opponents, whom it is not difficult to identify with the priests and adherents of the brahman religion. the spirit of the early scriptures of india leaves no room for doubt as to the point at which this revolution began. it was against pious privilege. the saintly hierarchy of india were a caste quite irresponsible to moral laws. the ancient gods, vague names for the powers of nature, were strictly limited in their dispensations to those of their priests; [ ] and as to these priests the chief necessities were ample offerings, sacrifices, and fulfilment of the ceremonial ordinances in which their authority was organised, these were the performances rewarded by a reciprocal recognition of authority. to the image of this political régime, theology, always facile, accommodated the regulations of the gods. the moral law can only live by being supreme; and as it was not supreme in the hindu pantheon, it died out of it. the doctrine of 'merits,' invented by priests purely for their own power, included nothing meritorious, humanly considered; the merits consisted of costly sacrifices, rich offerings to temples, tremendous penances for fictitious sins, ingeniously devised to aggrandise the penances which disguised power, and prolonged austerities that might be comfortably commuted by the wealthy. when this doctrine had obtained general adherence, and was represented by a terrestrial government corresponding to it, the gods were necessarily subject to it. that were only to say that the powers of nature were obedient to the 'merits' of privileged saints; and from this it is an obvious inference that they are relieved from moral laws binding on the vulgar. the legends which represent this phase of priestly dominion are curiously mixed. it would appear that under the doctrine of 'merits' the old gods declined. such appears to be the intimation of the stories which report the distress of the gods through the power of human saints. the rajah ravana acquired such power that he was said to have arrested the sun and moon, and so oppressed the gods that they temporarily transformed themselves to monkeys in order to destroy him. though viswámitra murders a saint, his merits are such that the gods are in great alarm lest they become his menials; and the completeness, with which moral considerations are left out of the struggle on both sides is disclosed in the item that the gods commissioned a nymph to seduce the saintly murderer, and so reduce a little the force of his austerities. it will be remembered that the ancient struggle of the devas and asuras was not owing to any moral differences, but to an alleged unfair distribution of the ambrosia produced by their joint labours in churning the ocean. the fact that the gods cheated the demons on that occasion was never supposed to affect the supremacy they acquired by the treachery; and it could, therefore, cause no scandal when later legends reported that the demons were occasionally able to take gods captive by the practice of these wonderful 'merits' which were so independent of morals. one asura is said to have gained such power in this way that he subjugated the gods, and so punished them that siva, who had originally endowed that demon, called into being scanda, a war-god, to defend the tortured deities. the most ludicrous part of all is that the gods themselves were gradually reduced to the necessity of competing like others for these tremendous powers; thus the bhagavat purana states that brahma was enabled to create the universe by previously undergoing penance for sixteen thousand years. the legends just referred to are puranic, and consequently of much later date than the revolution traceable in the iranian religion; but these later legends are normal growths from vedic roots. these were the principles of ancient theology, and the foundation of priestly government. in view of them we need not wonder that hindu theology devised no special devil; almost any of its gods might answer the purposes of one. nor need we be surprised that it had no particular hell; any society organised by the sanctions of religion, but irresponsible to its moral laws, would render it unnecessary to look far for a hell. from this cosmological chaos the more intelligent hindus were of course liberated; but the degree to which the fearful training had corrupted the moral tissues of those who had been subjected to it was revealed in the bald principle of their philosophers, that the superstition must continue to be imposed on the vulgar, whilst the learned might turn all the gods into a scientific terminology. the first clear and truthful eye that touched that system would transform it from a heaven to an inferno. so was it changed under the eye of zoroaster. that ancient pantheon which had become a refuge for all the lies of the known world; whose gods were liars and their supporters liars; was now turned into a realm of organised disorder, of systematised wrong; a vast creation of wickedness, at whose centre sat its creator and inspirer, the immoral god, the divine devil--ahriman. it is indeed impossible to ascertain how far the revolt against the old brahmanic system was political. it is, of course, highly improbable that any merely speculative system would excite a revolution; but at the same time it must be remembered that, in early days, an importance was generally attached to even abstract opinions such as we still find among the superstitious who regard an atheistic sentiment as worse than a theft. however this may have been, the avesta does not leave us in any doubt as to the main fact,--namely, that at a certain time and place man came to a point where he had to confront antagonism to fundamental moral principles, and that he found the so-called gods against him. in the establishment of those principles priests recognised their own disestablishment. what those moral laws that had become necessary to society were is also made clear. 'we worship the pure, the lord of purity!' 'we honour the good spirit, the good kingdom, the good law,--all that is good.' 'evil doctrine shall not again destroy the world.' 'good is the thought, good the word, good the deed, of the pure zarathustra.' 'in the beginning the two heavenly ones spoke--the good to the evil--thus: our souls, doctrines, words, works, do not unite together.' these sentences are from the oldest gâthâs of the avesta. the following is a very ancient gâthâ:--'all your devas (hindu 'gods') are only manifold children of the evil mind, and the great one who worships the saoma of lies and deceits; besides the treacherous acts for which you are notorious in the seven regions of the earth. you have invented all the evil that men speak and do, which is indeed pleasant to the devas, and is devoid of all goodness, and therefore perishes before the insight of the truth of the wise. thus you defraud men of their good minds and of their immortality by your evil minds--as well by those of the devas as through that of the evil spirit--through evil deeds and evil words, whereby the power of liars grows. ' . come near, and listen to the wise sayings of the omniscient, the songs in praise of the living one, and the prayers of the good spirit, the glorious truths whose origin is seen in the flames. ' . listen, therefore, to the earth spirit--look at the flames with reverent mind. every one, man and woman, is to be distinguished according to his belief. ye ancient powers, watch and be with us! ' . from the beginning there were two spirits, each active in itself. they are the good and the bad in thought, word, and deed. choose ye between them: do good, not evil! ' . and these two spirits meet and create the first existence, the earthy, that which is and that which is not, and the last, the spiritual. the worst existence is for the liars, the best for the truthful. ' . of these two spirits choose ye one, either the lying, the worker of evil, or the true holiest spirit. whoso chooses the first chooses the hardest fate; whoso the last, honours ahuramazda in faith and in truth by his deeds. ' . ye cannot serve both of these two. an evil spirit whom we will destroy surprises those who deliberate, saying, choose the evil mind! then do those spirits gather in troops to attack the two lives of which the prophets prophesy. ' . and to this earthly life came armaiti with earthly power to help the truth, and the good disposition: she, the eternal, created the material world, but the spirit is with thee, o wise one! the first of creations in time. ' . when any evil falls upon the spirit, thou, o wise one, givest temporal possessions and a good disposition; but him whose promises are lies, and not truth, thou punishest.' around the hymns of the avesta gradually grew a theology and a mythology which were destined to exert a powerful influence on the world. these are contained in the bundehesch. [ ] anterior to all things and all beings was zeruane-akrene ('boundless time'), so exalted that he can only be worshipped in silence. from him emanated two ferouers, spiritual types, which took form in two beings, ormuzd and ahriman. these were equally pure; but ahriman became jealous of his first-born brother, ormuzd. to punish ahriman for his evil feeling, the supreme being condemned him to , years' imprisonment in an empire of rayless darkness. during that period must rage the conflict between light and darkness, good and evil. as ormuzd had his pre-existing type or ferouer, so by a similar power--much the same as the platonic logos or word--he created the pure or spiritual world, by means of which the empire of ahriman should be overthrown. on the earth (still spiritual) he raised the exceeding high mountain albordj, elburz (snow mountain), [ ] on whose summit he fixed his throne; whence he stretched the bridge chinevat, which, passing directly over duzhak, the abyss of ahriman (or hell), reaches to the portal of gorodman, or heaven. all this was but a ferouer world--a prototype of the material world. in anticipation of its incorporation in a material creation, ormuzd (by emanations) created in his own image six amshaspands, or agents, of both sexes, to be models of perfection to lower spirits--and to mankind, when they should be created--and offer up their prayers to himself. the second series of emanations were the izeds, benevolent genii and guardians of the world, twenty-eight in number, of whom the chief is mithras, the mediator. the third series of emanations were the innumerable ferouers of things and men--for each must have its soul, which shall purify them in the day of resurrection. in antagonism to all these, ahriman produced an exactly similar host of dark and evil powers. these devas rise, rank on rank, to their arch-devs--each of whom is chained to his planet--and their head is ash-mogh, the 'two-footed serpent of lies,' who seems to correspond to mithras, the divine mediator. after a reign of years ormuzd entered on the work of realising his spiritual emanations in a material universe. he formed the sun as commander-in-chief, the moon as his lieutenant, the planets as captains of a great host--the stars--who were soldiers in his war against ahriman. the dog sirius he set to watch at the bridge chinevat (the milky way), lest thereby ahriman should scale the heavens. ormuzd then created earth and water, which ahriman did not try to prevent, knowing that darkness was inherent in these. but he struck a blow when life was produced. this was in form of a bull, and ahriman entered it and it perished; but on its destruction there came out of its left shoulder the seed of all clean and gentle animals, and, out of its right shoulder--man. ahriman had matched every creation thus far; but to make man was beyond his power, and he had no recourse but to destroy him. however, when the original man was destroyed, there sprang from his body a tree which bore the first human pair, whom ahriman, however, corrupted in the manner elsewhere described. it is a very notable characteristic of this iranian theology, that although the forces of good and evil are co-extensive and formally balanced, in potency they are not quite equal. the balance of force is just a little on the side of the good spirit. and this advantage appears in man. zoroaster said, 'no earthly man with a hundredfold strength does so much evil as mithra with heavenly strength does good;' and this thought reappears in the parsî belief that the one part of paradisiac purity, which man retained after his fall, balances the ninety-nine parts won by ahriman, and in the end will redeem him. for this one divine ray preserved enables him to receive and obey the avesta, and to climb to heaven by the stairway of three vast steps--pure thought, pure word, pure deed. the optimistic essence of the mythology is further shown in the belief that every destructive effort of ahriman resulted in a larger benefit than ormuzd had created. the bull (life) destroyed, man and animal sprang into being; the man destroyed, man and woman appeared. and so on to the end. in the last quarter of the , years for which ahriman was condemned, he rises to greater power even than ormuzd, and finally he will, by a fiery comet, set the visible universe in conflagration; but while this scheme is waxing to consummation ormuzd will send his holy prophet sosioch, who will convert mankind to the true law, [ ] so that when ahriman's comet consumes the earth he will really be purifying it. through the vast stream of melted metals and minerals the righteous shall pass, and to them it will be as a bath of warm milk: the wicked in attempting to pass shall be swept into the abyss of duzhak; having then suffered three days and nights, they shall be raised by ormuzd refined and purified. duzhak itself shall be purified by this fire, and last of all ahriman himself shall ascend to his original purity and happiness. then from the ashes of the former world shall bloom a paradise that shall remain for ever. in this system it is notable that we find the monster serpent of vedic mythology, ahi, transformed into an infernal region, duzhak. the dragon, being a type of physical suffering, passes away in iranian as in the later semitic mythology before the new form, which represents the stings of conscience though it may be beneath external pleasure. in this respect, therefore, ahriman fulfils the definition of a devil already given. in the avesta he fulfils also another condition essential to a devil, the love of evil in and for itself. but in the later theology it will be observed that evil in ahriman is not organic. the war being over and its fury past, the hostile chief is seen not so black as he had been painted; the belief obtains that he does not actually love darkness and evil. he was thrust into them as a punishment for his jealousy, pride, and destructive ambition. and because that dark kingdom was a punishment--therefore not congenial--it was at length (the danger past) held to be disciplinary. growing faith in the real supremacy of good discovers the immoral god to be an exaggerated anthropomorphic egoist; this divine devil is a self-centred potentate who had attempted to subordinate moral law and human welfare to his personal ascendancy. his fate having sealed the sentence on all ambitions of that character, humanity is able to pardon the individual offender, and find a hope that ahriman, having learned that no real satisfaction for a divine nature can be found in mere power detached from rectitude, will join in the harmony of love and loyalty at last. chapter iv. viswÁmitra: the theocratic devil. priestcraft and pessimism--an aryan tetzel and his luther--brahman frogs--evolution of the sacerdotal saint--viswámitra the accuser of virtue--the tamil passion-play 'harischandra'--ordeal of goblins--the martyr of truth--virtue triumphant over ceremonial 'merits'--harischandra and job. priestcraft in government means pessimism in the creed and despair in the heart. under sacerdotal rule in india it seemed paradise enough to leave the world, and the only hell dreaded was a return to it. 'the twice-born man,' says manu, 'who shall without intermission have passed the time of his studentship, shall ascend after death to the most exalted of regions, and no more spring to birth again in this lower world.' some clause was necessary to keep the twice-born man from suicide. buddha invented a plan of suicide-in-life combined with annihilation of the gods, which was driven out of india because it put into the minds of the people the philosophy of the schools. thought could only be trusted among classes interested to conceal it. the power and authority of a priesthood can only be maintained on the doctrine that man is 'saved' by the deeds of a ceremonial law; any general belief that morality is more acceptable to gods than ceremonies must be fatal to those occult and fictitious virtues which hedge about every pious impostor. sacerdotal power in india depended on superstitions carefully fostered concerning the mystical properties of a stimulating juice (soma), litanies, invocations, and benedictions by priests; upon sacrifices to the gods, including their priests, austerities, penances, pilgrimages, and the like; one characteristic running through all the performances--their utter worthlessness to any being in the universe except the priest. an artificial system of this kind has to create its own materials, and evoke forces of evolution from many regions of nature. it is a process requiring much more than the wisdom of the serpent and more than its harmfulness; and there is a bit of nature's irony in the fact that when the brahman rishi gained supremacy, the cobra was also worshipped as belonging to precisely the same caste and sanctity. there are traces of long and fierce struggles preceding this consummation. even in the vedic age--in the very dawn of religious history--tetzel appears with his indulgences and luther confronts him. the names they bore in ancient india were viswámitra and vasishtha. both of these were among the seven powerful rishis who made the hierarchy of india in the earliest age known to us. both were composers of some of the chief hymns of the vedas, and their respective hymns bear the stamp of the sacerdotal and the anti-sacerdotal parties which contended before the priestly sway had reached its complete triumph. viswámitra was champion of the high priestly party and its political pretensions. in the rig-veda there are forty hymns ascribed to him and his family, nearly all of which celebrate the divine virtues of soma-juice and the soma-sacrifice. as the exaltation of the priestly caste in israel was connected with a miracle, in which the jordan stopped flowing till the ark had been carried over, so the rivers sutledge and reyah were said to have rested from their course when viswámitra wished to cross them in seeking the soma. this rishi became identified in the hindu mind for all time with political priestcraft. on the other hand, vasishtha became equally famous for his hostility to that power, as well as for his profoundly religious character,--the finest hymns of the vedas, as to moral feeling, being those that bear his name. the anti-sacerdotal spirit of vasishtha is especially revealed in a strange satirical hymn in which he ridicules the ceremonial bráhmans under the guise of a panegyric on frogs. in this composition occur such verses as these:-- 'like bráhmans at the soma-sacrifice of atirâtra, sitting round a full pond and talking, you, o frogs, celebrate this day of the year when the rainy season begins. 'these bráhmans, with their soma, have had their say, performing the annual rite. these adhwaryus, sweating while they carry the hot pots, pop out like hermits. 'they have always observed the order of the gods as they are to be worshipped in the twelvemonth; these men do not neglect their season.... 'cow-noise gave, goat-noise gave, the brown gave, and the green gave us treasures. the frogs, who give us hundreds of cows, lengthened our life in the rich autumn.' [ ] viswámitra and vasishtha appear to have been powerful rivals in seeking the confidence of king sudás, and from their varying fortunes came the tremendous feud between them which plays so large a part in the traditions of india. the men were both priests, as are both ritualists and broad-churchmen in the present day. they were borne on the stream of mythologic evolution to representative regions very different from any they could have contemplated. vasishtha, ennobled by the moral sentiment of ages, appears as the genius of truth and justice, maintaining these as of more 'merit' than any ceremonial perfections. the bráhmans, whom he once ridiculed, were glad enough in the end to make him their patron saint, though they did not equally honour his principles. on the other hand, viswámitra became the type of that immoral divinity which received its iranian anathema in ahriman. the murder he commits is nothing in a personage whose soma-celebrations have raised him so high above the trivialities of morality. it is easy to see what must be the further development of such a type as viswámitra when he shall have passed from the guarded pages of puranic tradition to the terrible simplicities of folklore. the saint whose majesty is built on 'merits,' which have no relation to what the humble deem virtues, naturally holds such virtues in cynical contempt; naturally also he is indignant if any one dares to suggest that the height he has reached by costly and prolonged observances may be attained by poor and common people through the practice of virtue. the next step is equally necessary. since it is hard to argue down the facts of human nature, vasishtha is pretty sure to have a strong, if sometimes silent, support for his heretical theory of a priesthood representing virtue; consequently viswámitra will be reduced at length to deny the existence of virtue, and will become the accuser of those to whom virtues are attributed. finally, from the accuser to the tempter the transition is inevitable. the public accuser must try and make good his case, and if the facts do not support it, he must create other facts which will, or else bear the last brand of his tribe--slanderer. leaving out of sight all historical or probable facts concerning viswámitra and vasishtha, but remembering the spirit of them, let us read the great passion-play of the east, in which their respective parts are performed again as intervening ages have interpreted them. the hero of this drama is an ancient king named harischandra, who, being childless, and consequently unable to gain immortality, promised the god varuna to sacrifice to him a son if one were granted him. the son having been born, the father beseeches varuna for respite, which is granted again and again, but stands firmly by his promise, although it is finally commuted. the repulsive features of the ancient legend are eliminated in the drama, the promise now being for a vast sum of money which the king cannot pay, but which viswámitra would tempt him to escape by a technical fiction. sir mutu cumára swámy, whose translation i follow, presents many evidences of the near relation in which this drama stands to the religious faith of the people in southern india and parts of ceylon, where its representation never fails to draw vast crowds from every part of the district in which it may occur, the impression made by it being most profound. [ ] we are first introduced to harischandra, king of ayòdiah (oude), in his palace, surrounded by every splendour, and by the devotion of his prosperous people. his first word is an ascription to the 'god of gods.' his ministers come forward and recount the wealth and welfare of the nation. the first act witnesses the marriage of harischandra with the beautiful princess chandravatí, and it closes with the birth of a son. the second act brings us into the presence of indra in the abode of the gods. the chief enters the audience hall of his palace, where an assembly of deities and sages has awaited him. these sages are holy men who have acquired supernatural power by their tremendous austerities; and of these the most august is viswámitra. by the magnitude and extent of his austerities he has gained a power beyond even that of the triad, and can reduce the worlds to cinders. all the gods court his favour. as the council proceeds, indra addresses the sages--'holy men! as gifted with supernatural attributes, you roam the universe with marvellous speed, there is no place unknown to you. i am curious to learn who, in the present times, is the most virtuous sovereign on the earth below. what chief of mortals is there who has never told a lie--who has never swerved from the course of justice?' vasishtha, a powerful sage and family-priest of harischandra, declares that his royal disciple is such a man. but the more powerful viswámitra denounces harischandra as cruel and a liar. the quarrel between the two rishis waxes fierce, until indra puts a stop to it by deciding that an experiment shall be made on harischandra. vasishtha agrees that if his disciple can be shown to have told a lie, or can be made to tell one, the fruit of his life-long austerities, and all the power so gained, shall be added to viswámitra; while the latter must present his opponent with half of his 'merits' if harischandra be not made to swerve from the truth. viswámitra is to employ any means whatever, neither indra or any other interfering. viswámitra sets about his task of trying and tempting harischandra by informing that king that, in order to perform a sacrifice of special importance, he has need of a mound of gold as high as a missile slung by a man standing on an elephant's back. with the demand of so sacred a being harischandra has no hesitation in complying, and is about to deliver the gold when viswámitra requests him to be custodian of the money for a time, but perform the customary ceremony of transfer. holding harischandra's written promise to deliver the gold whensoever demanded, viswámitra retires with compliments. then wild beasts ravage harischandra's territory; these being expelled, a demon boar is sent, but is vanquished by the monarch. viswámitra then sends unchaste dancing-girls to tempt harischandra; and when he has ordered their removal, viswámitra returns with them, and, feigning rage, accuses him of slaying innocent beasts and of cruelty to the girls. he declares that unless harischandra yields to the pariah damsels, he himself shall be reduced to a pariah slave. harischandra offers all his kingdom and possessions if the demand is withdrawn, absolutely refusing to swerve from his virtue. this viswámitra accepts, is proclaimed sovereign of ayòdiah, and the king goes forth a beggar with his wife and child. but now, as these are departing, viswámitra demands that mound of gold which was to be paid when called for. in vain harischandra pleads that he has already delivered up all he possesses, the gold included; the last concession is declared to have nothing to do with the first. yet viswámitra says he will be charitable; if harischandra will simply declare that he never pledged the gold, or, having done so, does not feel bound to pay it, he will cancel that debt. 'such a declaration i can never make,' replies harischandra. 'i owe thee the gold, and pay it i shall. let a messenger accompany me and leave me not till i have given him thy due.' from this time the efforts of viswámitra are directed to induce harischandra to declare the money not due. amid his heartbroken people--who cry, 'where are the gods? can they tolerate this?'--he who was just now the greatest and happiest monarch in the world goes forth on the highway a wanderer with his chandravatí and their son devaráta dressed in coarsest garments. his last royal deed is to set the crown on his tempter's head. the people and officers follow, and beg his permission to slay viswámitra, but he rebukes them, and counsels submission. viswámitra orders a messenger, nakshatra, to accompany the three wretched ones, and inflict the severest sufferings on them until the gold is paid, and amid each ordeal to offer harischandra all his former wealth and happiness if he will utter a falsehood. they come to a desert whose sands are so hot that the wife faints. harischandra bears his son in his arms, but in addition is compelled to bear nakshatra (the bráhman and tormentor) on his shoulders. they so pass amid snakes and scorpions, and receive terrible stings; they pass through storm and flood, and yet vainly does nakshatra suggest the desired falsehood. then follows the ordeal of demons, which gives an interesting insight into tamil demonology. one of the company exclaims--'how frightful they look! who can face them? they come in battalions, young and old, small and great--all welcome us. they disport themselves with a wild dance; flames shoot from their mouths; their feet touch not the earth; they move in the air. observe you the bleeding corpses of human beings in their hands. they crunch them and feed on the flesh. the place is one mass of gore and filth. wolves and hyænas bark at them; jackals and dogs follow them. they are near. may siva protect us!' nakshatra. how dreadful! harischandra, what is this? look! evil demons stare at me--i tremble for my life. protect me now, and i ask you no more for the gold. harischandra. have no fear, nakshatra. come, place thyself in the midst of us. chief of the goblins. men! little men! human vermin! intrude ye thus into my presence? know that, save only the bráhman standing in the midst of you, you are all my prey to-night. harischandra. goblin! certainly thou art not an evil-doer, for thou hast excepted this holy bráhman. as for ourselves, we know that the bodies which begin to exist upon earth must also cease to exist on it. what matters it when death comes? if he spares us now he reserves us only for another season. good, kind demon! destroy us then together; here we await our doom. nakshatra. harischandra! before you thus desert me, make the goblin promise you that he will not hurt me. harischandra. thou hast no cause for alarm; thou art safe. chief of the goblins. listen! i find that all four of you are very thin; it is not worth my while to kill you. on examining closely, i perceive that the young bráhman is plump and fat as a wild boar. give him up to me--i want not the rest. nakshatra. o gods! o harischandra! you are a great monarch! have mercy on me! save me, save me! i will never trouble you for the gold, but treat you considerately hereafter. harischandra. sir, thy life is safe, stand still. nakshatra. allow me, sirs, to come closer to you, and to hold you by the hand (he grasps their hands.) harischandra. king of the goblins! i address thee in all sincerity; thou wilt confer on us a great favour indeed by despatching us speedily to the judgment hall of the god of death. the bráhman must not be touched; devour us. the goblin (grinding his teeth in great fury). what! dare you disobey me? will you not deliver the bráhman? harischandra. no, we cannot. we alone are thy victims. [day breaks, and the goblins disappear.] having thus withstood all temptation to harm his enemy, or to break a promise he had given to treat him kindly, harischandra is again pressed for the gold or the lie, and, still holding out, an ordeal of fire follows. trusting the god of fire will cease to afflict if one is sacrificed, harischandra prepares to enter the conflagration first, and a pathetic contention occurs between him and his wife and son as to which shall be sacrificed. in the end harischandra rushes in, but does not perish. harischandra is hoping to reach the temple of vis wanàth [ ] at kasi and invoke his aid to pay the gold. to the temple he comes only to plead in vain, and nakshatra tortures him with instruments. finally harischandra, his wife and child, are sold as slaves to pay the debt. but viswámitra, invisibly present, only redoubles his persecutions. harischandra is subjected to the peculiar degradation of having to burn dead bodies in a cemetery. chandravatí and her son are subjected to cruelties. the boy is one day sent to the forest, is bitten by a snake, and dies. chandravatí goes out in the night to find the body. she repairs with it to the cemetery. in the darkness she does not recognise her husband, the burner of the bodies, nor he his wife. he has strictly promised his master that every fee shall be paid, and reproaches the woman for coming in the darkness to avoid payment. chandravatí offers in payment a sacred chain which siva had thrown round her neck at birth, invisible to all but a perfect man. harischandra alone has ever seen it, and now recognises his wife. but even now he will not perform the last rites over his dead child unless the fee can be obtained as promised. chandravatí goes out into the city to beg the money, leaving harischandra seated beside the dead body of devaráta. in the street she stumbles over the corpse of another child, and takes it up; it proves to be the infant prince, who has been murdered. chandravatí--arrested and dragged before the king--in a state of frenzy declares she has killed the child. she is condemned to death, and her husband must be her executioner. but the last scene must be quoted nearly in full. verakvoo (harischandra's master, leading on chandravatí). slave! this woman has been sentenced by our king to be executed without delay. draw your sword and cut her head off. (exit.) harischandra. i obey, master. (draws the sword and approaches her.) chandravatí (coming to consciousness again). my husband! what! do i see thee again? i applaud thy resolution, my lord. yes; let me die by thy sword. be not unnerved, but be prompt, and perform thy duty unflinchingly. harischandra. my beloved wife! the days allotted to you in this world are numbered; you have run through the span of your existence. convicted as you are of this crime, there is no hope for your life; i must presently fulfil my instructions. i can only allow you a few seconds; pray to your tutelary deities, prepare yourself to meet your doom. viswámitra (who has suddenly appeared). harischandra! what, are you going to slaughter this poor woman? wicked man, spare her! tell a lie even now and be restored to your former state! harischandra. i pray, my lord, attempt not to beguile me from the path of rectitude. nothing shall shake my resolution; even though thou didst offer to me the throne of indra i would not tell a lie. pollute not thy sacred person by entering such unholy grounds. depart! i dread not thy wrath; i no longer court thy favour. depart. (viswámitra disappears.) my love! lo i am thy executioner; come, lay thy head gently on this block with thy sweet face turned towards the east. chandravatí, my wife, be firm, be happy! the last moment of our sufferings has at length come; for to sufferings too there is happily an end. here cease our woes, our griefs, our pleasures. mark! yet awhile, and thou wilt be as free as the vultures that now soar in the skies. this keen sabre will do its duty. thou dead, thy husband dies too--this self-same sword shall pierce my breast. first the child--then the wife--last the husband--all victims of a sage's wrath. i the martyr of truth--thou and thy son martyrs for me, the martyr of truth. yes; let us die cheerfully and bear our ills meekly. yes; let all men perish, let all gods cease to exist, let the stars that shine above grow dim, let all seas be dried up, let all mountains be levelled to the ground, let wars rage, blood flow in streams, let millions of millions of harischandras be thus persecuted; yet let truth be maintained--let truth ride victorious over all--let truth be the light--truth the guide--truth alone the lasting solace of mortals and immortals. die, then, o goddess of chastity! die, at this the shrine of thy sister goddess of truth! [strikes the neck of chandravatí with great force; the sword, instead of harming her, is transformed into a string of superb pearls, which winds itself around her: the gods of heaven, all sages, and all kings appear suddenly to the view of harischandra.] siva (the first of the gods). harischandra, be ever blessed! you have borne your severe trials most heroically, and have proved to all men that virtue is of greater worth than all the vanities of a fleeting world. be you the model of mortals. return to your land, resume your authority, and rule your state. devaráta, victim of viswámitra's wrath, rise! (he is restored to life.) rise you, also, son of the king of kasi, with whose murder you, chandravatí, were charged through the machinations of viswámitra. (he comes to life also.) harischandra. all my misfortunes are of little consequence, since thou, o god of gods, hast deigned to favour me with thy divine presence. no longer care i for kingdom, or power, or glory. i value not children, or wives, or relations. to thy service, to thy worship, to the redemption of my erring soul, i devote myself uninterruptedly hereafter. let me not become the sport of men. the slave of a pariah cannot become a king; the slave-girl of a bráhman cannot become a queen. when once the milk has been drawn from the udder of a cow nothing can restore the self-same milk to it. our degradation, o god, is now beyond redemption. viswámitra. i pray, o siva, that thou wouldst pardon my folly. anxious to gain the wager laid by me before the gods, i have most mercilessly tormented this virtuous king; yet he has proved himself the most truthful of all earthly sovereigns, triumphing victoriously over me and my efforts to divert him from his constancy. harischandra, king of kings! i crave your forgiveness. verakvoo (throwing off his disguise). king harischandra, think not that i am a pariah, for you behold in me even yáma, the god of death. kalakanda (chandravatí's cruel master, throwing off his disguise). queen! rest not in the belief that you were the slave of a bráhman. he to whom you devoted yourself am even i--the god of fire, agni. vasishtha. harischandra, no disgrace attaches to thee nor to the solar race, of which thou art the incomparable gem. even this cemetery is in reality no cemetery: see! the illusion lasts not, and thou beholdest here a holy grove the abode of hermits and ascetics. like the gold which has passed through successive crucibles, devoid of all impurities, thou, o king of ayòdiah, shinest in greater splendour than even yon god of light now rising to our view on the orient hills. (it is morning.) siva. harischandra, let not the world learn that virtue is vanquished, and that its enemy, vice, has become the victor. go, mount yon throne again--proclaim to all that we, the gods, are the guardians of the good and the true. indra! chief of the gods, accompany this sovereign with all your retinue, and recrown him emperor of ayòdiah. may his reign be long--may all bliss await him in the other world! the plot of this drama has probably done as much and as various duty as any in the world. it has spread like a spiritual banyan, whose branches, taking root, have swelled to such size that it is difficult now to say which is the original trunk. it may even be that the only root they all had in common is an invisible one in the human heart, developed in its necessary struggles amid nature after the pure and perfect life. but neither in the book of job, which we are yet to consider, nor in any other variation of the theme, does it rise so high as in this drama of harischandra. in job it represents man loyal to his deity amid the terrible afflictions which that deity permits; but in harischandra it shows man loyal to a moral principle even against divine orders to the contrary. despite the hand of the licenser, and the priestly manipulations, visible here and there in it--especially towards the close--sacerdotalism stands confronted by its reaction at last, and receives its sentence in the joy with which the hindu sees the potent rishis with all their pretentious 'merits,' and the gods themselves, kneeling at the feet of the man who stands by truth. it is amusing to find the wincings of the priests through many centuries embodied in a legend about harischandra after he went to heaven. it is related that he was induced by nárada to relate his actions with such unbecoming pride that he was lowered from svarga (heaven) one stage after each sentence; but having stopped in time, and paid homage to the gods, he was placed with his capital in mid-air, where eyes sacerdotally actinised may still see the aerial city at certain times. the doctrine of 'merits' will no doubt be able for some time yet to charge 'good deeds' with their own sin--pride; but, after all, the priest must follow the people far enough to confess that one must look upward to find the martyr of truth. in what direction one must look to find his accuser requires no further intimation than the popular legend of viswámitra. chapter v. elohim and jehovah. deified power--giants and jehovah--jehovah's manifesto--the various elohim--two jehovahs and two tables--contradictions--detachment of the elohim from jehovah. the sacred books of the hebrews bring us into the presence of the gods (elohim) supposed to have created all things out of nothing--nature-gods--just as they are in transition to the conception of a single will and personality. though the plural is used ('gods') a singular verb follows: the tendency is already to that concentration which resulted in the enthronement of one supreme sovereign--jehovah. the long process of evolution which must have preceded this conception is but slightly traceable in the bible. it is, however, written on the face of the whole world, and the same process is going on now in its every phase. whether with gesenius [ ] we take the sense of the word elohim to be 'the revered,' or, with fürst, [ ] 'the mighty,' makes little difference; the fact remains that the word is applied elsewhere to gods in general, including such as were afterwards deemed false gods by the jews; and it is more important still that the actions ascribed to the elohim, who created the heavens and the earth, generally reflect the powerful and un-moral forces of nature. the work of creation in genesis (i. and ii. - ) is that of giants without any moral quality whatever. whether or not we take in their obvious sense the words, 'elohim created man in his own image, ... male and female created he them,' there can be no question of the meaning of gen. vi. , : 'the sons of elohim saw the daughters of men that they were beautiful, and they took to themselves for wives whomsoever they chose.' when good and evil come to be spoken of, the name jehovah [ ] at once appears. the elohim appear again in the flood, the wind that assuaged it, the injunction to be fruitful and multiply, the cloud and rainbow; and gradually the germs of a moral government begin to appear in their assigning the violence of mankind as reason for the deluge, and in the covenant with noah. but even after the name jehovah had generally blended with, or even superseded, the other, we find elohim often used where strength and wonder-working are thought of--e.g., 'thou art the god that doest wonders' (ps. lxxvii.). 'thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known.' against the primitive nature-deities the personality and jealous supremacy of jehovah was defined. the golden calf built by aaron was called elohim (plural, though there was but one calf). solomon was denounced for building altars to the same; and when jeroboam built altars to two calves, they are still so called. other rivals--dagon (judges xvi.), astaroth, chemosh, milcom ( kings xi.)--are called by the once-honoured name. the english bible translates elohim, god; jehovah, the lord; jehovah elohim, the lord god; and the critical reader will find much that is significant in the varied use of these names. thus (gen. xxii.) it is elohim that demands the sacrifice of isaac, jehovah that interferes to save him. at the same time, in editing the story, it is plainly felt to be inadmissible that abraham should be supposed loyal to any other god than jehovah; so jehovah adopts the sacrifice as meant for himself, and the place where the ram was provided in place of isaac is called jehovah-jireh. however, when we can no longer distinguish the two antagonistic conceptions by different names their actual incongruity is even more salient, and, as we shall see, develops a surprising result. jehovah inaugurates his reign by a manifesto against these giants, the elohim, for whom the special claim--clamorously asserted when aaron built the golden calf, and continued as the plea for the same deity--was that they (elohim) had brought israel out of egypt. 'i,' cries jehovah, 'am the lord thy god, which have brought thee out of the land of egypt, out of the house of bondage: thou shalt have no other gods but me;' and the first four commandments of the law are devoted entirely to a declaration of his majesty, his power (claiming credit for the creation), his jealous determination to punish his opponents and reward his friends, to vindicate the slightest disrespect to his name. the narrative of the golden calf was plainly connected with sinai in order to illustrate the first commandment. the punishment of the believers in another divine emancipator, even though they had not yet received the proclamation, must be signal. jehovah is so enraged that by his order human victims are offered up to the number of three thousand, and even after that, it is said, jehovah plagued israel on account of their elohim-worship. in the same direction is the command to keep holy the sabbath day, because on it he rested from the work of creation (gen. xx.), or because on that day he delivered israel from egypt (deut. v.), the editors do not seem to remember exactly which, but it is well enough to say both, for it is taking the two picked laurels from the brow of elohim and laying them on that of jehovah. in all of which it is observable that there is no moral quality whatever. nero might equally command the romans to have no other gods before himself, to speak his name with awe, to rest when he stopped working. in the fifth commandment, arbitrarily ascribed to the first table, we have a transition to the moral code; though even there the honour of parents is jealously associated with jehovah's greatness ('that thy days may be long in the land which jehovah elohim giveth thee'). the nature-gods were equal to that; for the elohim had begotten the giants who were 'in the earth in those days.' 'elohim spake unto moses, and said unto him, i am jehovah; and i appeared unto abraham, unto isaac, and unto jacob by (the name of) god almighty (el-shaddai), but by my name jehovah was i not known to them' (exod. vi. , ). the ancient gods--the elohim--were, in the process of absorption into the one great form, the repository of their several powers, distinguishable; and though, for the most part, they bear names related to the forces of nature, now and then they reflect the tendencies to humanisation. thus we have 'the most high god' (el-elyon--e.g., gen. xiv. ); 'the everlasting-god' (el-elim, gen. xxi. ); 'the jealous god' (el-kana, exod. xx. ); 'the mighty god, and terrible' (el-gadol and nora, deut. vii. ); 'the living god' (el-chi, josh. iii. ); 'the god of heaven' (el-shemim, ps. cxxxvi. ); the 'god almighty' (el-shaddai, [ ] exod. vi. ). these elohim, with each of whose names i have referred to an instance of its characteristic use, became epithets, as the powers they represented were more and more absorbed by the growing personality of jehovah; but these epithets were also characters, and their historic expressions had also to undergo a process of slow and difficult digestion. the all-devouring grandeur of jehovah showed what it had fed on. not only all the honours, but many of the dishonours, of the primitive deities adhered to the sovereign whose rule was no doubt inaugurated by their disgrace and their barbarism. the costliness of the glory of divine absolutism is again illustrated in the evolution of the premature monotheism, which had for its figure-head the dread jehovah, who, as heir of the nature-gods, became responsible for the monstrosities of a tribal demonolatry, thus being compelled to fill simultaneously the rôles of the demon and the lawgiver. [ ] the two tables of the law--one written by jehovistic theology, the other by the moral sense of mankind--ascribed to this dual deity, for whom unity was so fiercely insisted on, may be read in their outcome throughout the bible. they are here briefly, in a few examples, set forth side by side. table of jehovah i. table of jehovah ii. exod. xxxiii. . 'slay every exod. xx. . 'thou shalt not man his brother, every man his kill.' companion, and every man his neighbour.' num. xv. . 'while the children exod. xx. . 'thou shalt not of israel were in the wilderness, commit adultery.' they found a man that gathered sticks upon the sabbath day.... and they put him in ward, because it was not declared what should be done to him. and the lord said unto moses, the man shall be surely put to death: all the congregation shall stone him with stones without the camp.' neither this nor the similar punishment for blasphemy (lev. xxiv.), were executions of existing law. for a fearful instance of murder inflicted on the innocent, and accepted as a human sacrifice by jehovah, see sam. xxi.; and for the brutal murder of shimei, who denounced and resented the crime which hung the seven sons of saul 'before the lord,' see kings ii. but the examples are many. in the story of abraham, sarai, and hagar (gen. xvi.), lot and his daughters (xix.), abraham's presentation of his wife to abimilech (xx.), the same done by isaac (xxvi.), judah, tamar (xxxviii.), and other cases where the grossest violations of the seventh commandment go unrebuked by jehovah, while in constant communication with the guilty parties, we see how little the second table was supported by the first. the extortions, frauds, and exod. xx. . 'thou shalt not thefts of jacob (gen. xxv., steal.' xxvii., xxx.), which brought upon him the unparalleled blessings of jehovah; the plundering of nabal's property by david and his fellow-bandits; the smiting of the robbed farmer by jehovah and the taking of his treacherous wife by david ( sam. xxv.), are narratives befitting a bible of footpads. jehovah said, 'who shall deceive exod. xx. . 'thou shalt not ahab?... and there came forth a bear false witness against thy spirit, and stood before jehovah, neighbour.' and said, i will deceive him. and jehovah said, wherewith? and he said, i will go forth and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all these thy prophets. and he said, thou shalt deceive him, and prevail also: go forth and do so. now, therefore, jehovah hath put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these thy prophets, and jehovah hath spoken evil concerning thee' ( kings xxii.). see ezek. xx. . deut xx. - , is a complete exod. xx. . 'thou shalt not instruction for invasion, murder, covet they neighbour's wife, rapine, eating the spoil of the thou shalt not covet thy invaded, taking their wives, neighbour's wife, nor his their cattle, &c., all such as man-servant, nor his maid- might have been proclaimed by a servant, nor his ox, nor his supreme bashi-bazouk. ass, nor anything that is thy neighbour's.' instances of this discrepancy might be largely multiplied. any one who cares to pursue the subject can trace the building upon the powerful personal jehovah of a religion of human sacrifices, anathemas, and priestly despotism; while around the moral ruler and judge of the same name, whose personality is more and more dispersed in pantheistic ascriptions, there grows the common law, and then the more moral law of equity, and the corresponding sentiments which gradually evolve the idea of a parental deity. it is obvious that the more this second idea of the deity prevails, the more he is regarded as 'merciful,' 'long-suffering,' 'a god of truth and without iniquity, just and right,' 'delighting not in sacrifice but mercifulness,' 'good to all,' and whose 'tender mercies are over all his works,' and having 'no pleasure in the death of him that dieth;' the less will it be possible to see in the very same being the 'man of war,' 'god of battles,' the 'jealous,' 'angry,' 'fire-breathing' one, who 'visits the sins of the fathers upon the children,' who laughs at the calamities of men and mocks when their fear cometh. it is a structural necessity of the human mind that these two shall be gradually detached the one from the other. from one of the jehovahs represented in parallel columns came the 'father' whom christ adored: from the other came the devil he abhorred. chapter vi. the consuming fire. the shekinah--jewish idols--attributes of the fiery and cruel elohim compared with those of the devil--the powers of evil combined under a head--continuity--the consuming fire spiritualised. that abraham was a fire-worshipper might be suspected from the immemorial efforts of all semitic authorities to relieve him of traditional connection with that particular idolatry. when the good and evil powers were being distinguished, we find the burning and the bright aspects of fire severally regarded. the sign of jehovah's covenant with abram included both. 'it came to pass that when the sun went down, and it was dark, behold a smoking furnace and a burning lamp that passed between those pieces' (of the sacrifice). in the legend of moses we have the glory resting on sinai and the burning bush, the bush which, it is specially remarked, was 'not consumed,' an exceptional circumstance in honour of moses. to these corresponded the urim and thummim, marking the priest as source of light and of judgment. in his favourable and adorable aspect jehovah was the brightness of fire. this was the shekinah. in the targum, jonathan ben uzziel to the prophets, it is said: 'the mountains trembled before the lord; the mountains tabor, hermon, carmel said one to the other: upon me the shekinah will rest, and to me will it come. but the shekinah rested upon mount sinai, weakest and smallest of all the mountains. this sinai trembled and shook, and its smoke went up as the smoke of an oven, because of the glory of the god of israel which had manifested itself upon it.' the brightness [ ] passed on to illumine every event associated with the divine presence in semitic mythology; it was 'the glory of the lord' shining from the star of bethlehem, and the figure of the transfiguration. the consuming fire also had its development. among the spiritual it was spiritualised. 'who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire?' cries isaiah. 'who among us shall dwell with the everlasting burnings? he that walketh righteously and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes from seeing evil.' it was by a prosaic route that the devouring fire became the residence of the wicked. after jeroboam ( kings xiii.) had built altars to the elohim, under form of calves, a prophet came out of judah to denounce the idolatry. 'and he cried against the altar in the word of jehovah, and said, o altar, altar! thus saith jehovah, behold, a child shall be born unto the house of david, josiah by name; and upon thee shall he offer the priests of the high places that burn incense upon thee, and men's bones shall be burnt upon thee.' it was deemed so important that this prophecy should be fulfilled in the letter, when it could no longer be fulfilled in reality, that some centuries later josiah dug up the bones of the elohistic priests and burned them upon their long-ruined altars ( kings xxiii.). the incident is significant, both on account of the prophet's personification of the altar, and the institution of a sort of gehenna in connection with it. the personification and the gehenna became much more complete as time went on. the jews originally had no devil, as indeed had no races at first; and this for the obvious reason that their so-called gods were quite equal to any moral evils that were to be accounted for, as we have already seen they were adequate to explain all physical evils. but the antagonists of the moral jehovah were recognised and personified with increasing clearness, and were quite prepared for connection with any general who might be theoretically proposed for their leadership. when the jews came under the influence of persian theology the archfiend was elected, and all the elohim--moloch, dagon, astarte, chemosh, and the rest--took their place under his rebellious ensign. the descriptions of the devil in the bible are mainly borrowed from the early descriptions of the elohim, and of jehovah in his elohistic character. [ ] in the subjoined parallels i follow the received english version. gen. xxii. . 'god tempted matt. iv. . 'then was jesus abraham.' led up into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil.' see also cor. vii. , thes. iii. , james . . exod. v. . 'i (jehovah) will john xiii. . 'the devil having harden pharaoh's heart;' v. , now put into the heart judas 'he hardened pharaoh's heart.' iscariot, simon's son, to betray him.' kings xxii. . 'behold the john viii. . 'he (the devil) is lord hath put a lying spirit in a liar' ('and so is his father,' the mouth of all these thy continues the sentence by right prophets, and the lord hath of translation). tim. iii. , spoken evil concerning them.' 'slanderers' (diabolous). tim. ezek. xiv. . 'if the prophet be iii. , 'false accusers' deceived when he hath spoken a (diabolo). also titus ii. , von thing, i the lord have deceived tischendorf translates that prophet, and i will stretch 'calumniators.' out my hand upon him, and will destroy him from the midst of my people.' isa. xlv. . 'i make peace and matt. xiii. . 'the tares are create evil. i the lord do all the children of the wickied these things.' amos iii. . one.' john iii. . 'he that 'shall there be evil in a city committeth sin is of the devil; and the lord hath not done it?' for the devil sinneth from the sam. xvi. . 'an evil spirit beginning.' from the lord troubled him' (saul). exod. xii. . 'at midnight the john viii. . 'he (the devil) lord smote all the firstborn of was a murderer from the egypt.' ver. . 'there was a beginning.' great cry in egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead.' exod. xxxiii. . 'thus saith the lord god of israel, put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbour.' exod. vi. . 'take thy rod and rev. xii. , &c. 'there was war cast it before pharaoh and it in heaven: michael and his angels shall become a serpent.' ver. . fought against the dragon.... and 'aaron's rod swallowed up their the great dragon was cast out, rods.' num. xxi. . 'jehovah sent that old serpent, called the fiery serpents (seraphim) among devil, and satan, which deceiveth the people.' ver. . 'and the the whole world.... woe to the lord said unto moses, make thee a inhabiters of the earth and of fiery serpent, and set it upon a the sea! for the devil has come pole: and it shall come to pass, down to you, having great wrath.' that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live.' (this serpent was worshipped until destroyed by hezekiah, kings xviii.) compare jer. viii. , ps. cxlviii., 'praise ye the lord from the earth, ye dragons.' gen. xix. . 'the lord rained matt. xxv. . 'depart from me, upon sodom and gomorrah brimstone ye cursed, into everlasting fire, and fire from the lord out of prepared for the devil and his heaven.' deut. iv. . 'the lord angels.' mark ix. . 'where thy god is a consuming fire.' ps. their worm dieth not, and the xi. . 'upon the wicked he shall fire is not quenched.' rev. xx. rain snares, fire and brimstone.' . 'and the devil that ps. xviii. . 'there went up a deceiveth them was cast into the smoke out of his nostrils.' ps. lake of fire and brimstone.' in xcvii. . 'a fire goeth before rev. ix. abaddon, or apollyon, is him, and burneth up his enemies represented as the king of the round about.' ezek. xxxviii. , scorpion tormentors; and the &c. 'for in my jealousy, and in diabolical horses, with stinging the fire of my wrath, have i serpent tails, are described as spoken.... i will plead against killing with the smoke and him with pestilence and with brimstone from their mouths. blood, and i will rain upon him ... fire and brimstone.' isa. xxx. . 'tophet is ordained of old; yea, for the king is it prepared: he hath made it deep and wide; the pile thereof is fire and much wood; the breath of the lord, like a stream of brimstone, doth kindle it.' in addition to the above passages may be cited a notable passage from paul's epistle to the thessalonians (ii. ). 'let no man deceive you by any means: for that day (of christ) shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called god, or that is worshipped; so that he, as god, sitteth in the temple of god, showing himself that he is god. remember ye not that, when i was yet with you, i told you these things? and now ye know what withholdeth that he might be revealed in his time. for the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who now letteth will let, until he be taken out of the way: and then shall that wicked be revealed, whom the lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming: even him whose coming is after the working of satan, with all power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all the deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved. and for this cause god shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie; that they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.' this remarkable utterance shows how potent was the survival in the mind of paul of the old elohist belief. although the ancient deity, who deceived prophets to their destruction, and sent forth lying spirits with their strong delusions, was dethroned and outlawed, he was still a powerful claimant of empire, haunting the temple, and setting himself up therein as god. he will be consumed by christ's breath when the day of triumph comes; but meanwhile he is not only allowed great power in the earth, but utilised by the true god, who even so far cooperates with the false as to send on some men 'strong delusions' ('a working of error,' von tischendorf translates), in order that they may believe the lie and be damned. paul speaks of the 'mystery of iniquity;' but it is not so very mysterious when we consider the antecedents of his idea. the dark problem of the origin of evil, and its continuance in the universe under the rule of a moral governor, still threw its impenetrable shadow across the human mind. it was a terrible reality, visible in the indifference or hostility with which the new gospel was met on the part of the cultured and powerful; and it could only then be explained as a mysterious provisional arrangement connected with some divine purpose far away in the depths of the universe. but the passage quoted from thessalonians shows plainly that all those early traditions about the divinely deceived prophets and lying spirits, sent forth from jehovah elohim, had finally, in paul's time, become marshalled under a leader, a personal man of sin; but this leader, while opposing christ's kingdom, is in some mysterious way a commissioner of god. we may remark here the beautiful continuity by which, through all these shadows of terror and vapours of speculation, 'clouding the glow of heaven,' [ ] the unquenchable ideal from first to last is steadily ascending. 'one or three things,' says the talmud, 'were before this world--water, fire, and wind. water begat the darkness, fire begat light, and wind begat the spirit of wisdom.' this had become the rationalistic translation by a crude science of the primitive demons, once believed to have created the heavens and the earth. in the process we find the forces outlawed in their wild action, but becoming the choir of god in their quiet action:-- kings xix. - . 'and he said, go forth, and stand upon the mount before the lord. and, behold, the lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the lord; but the lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. and it was so, when elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle.' but man must have a philosophical as well as a moral development: the human mind could not long endure this elemental anarchy. it asked, if the lord be not in the hurricane, the earthquake, the volcanic flame, who is therein? this is the answer of the targum: [ ] 'and he said, arise and stand on the mountain before the lord. and god revealed himself: and before him a host of angels of the wind, cleaving the mountain and breaking the rocks before the lord; but not in the host of angels was the shechinah. and after the host of the angels of the wind came a host of angels of commotion; but not in the host of the angels of commotion was the shechinah of the lord. and after the angels of commotion came a host of angels of fire; but not in the host of angels of fire was the shechinah of the lord. but after the host of the angels of the fire came voices singing in silence. and it was when elijah heard this he hid his face in his mantle.' the moral sentiment takes another step in advance with the unknown but artistic writer of the epistle to the hebrews. moses had described god as a 'consuming fire;' and 'the sight of the glory of the lord was like devouring fire on the top of the mount in the eyes of the children of israel' (exod. xxiv. ). when next we meet this phrase it is with this writer, who seeks to supersede what moses (traditionally) built up. 'whose voice,' he says, 'then shook the earth; but now he hath promised, saying, yet once more i shake not the earth only, but also heaven. and this word, 'yet once more,' signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those which cannot be shaken may remain.... for our god is a consuming fire.' 'our god also!' cries each great revolution that advances. his consuming wrath is not now directed against man, but the errors which are man's only enemies: the lightnings of the new sinai, while they enlighten the earth, smite the old heaven of human faith and imagination, shrivelling it like a burnt scroll! in this nineteenth century, when the old heaven, amid which this fiery pillar glowed, is again shaken, the ancient phrase has still its meaning. the russian tourgenieff represents two friends who had studied together in early life, then parted, accidentally meeting once more for a single night. they compare notes as to what the long intervening years have taught them; and one sums his experience in the words--'i have burned what i used to worship, and worship what i used to burn.' the novelist artfully reproduces for this age a sentence associated with a crisis in the religious history of europe. clovis, king of the franks, invoked the god of his wife clotilda to aid him against the germans, vowing to become a christian if successful; and when, after his victory, he was baptized at rheims, st. remy said to him--'bow thy head meekly, sicambrian; burn what thou hast worshipped, and worship what thou hast burned!' clovis followed the bishop's advice in literal fashion, carrying fire and sword amid his old friends the 'pagans' right zealously. but the era has come in which that which clovis' sword and st. remy's theology set up for worship is being consumed in its turn. tourgenieff's youths are consuming the altar on which their forerunners were consumed. and in this rekindled flame the world now sees shrivelling the heavens once fresh, but now reflecting the aggregate selfishness of mankind, the hells representing their aggregate cowardice, and feeds its nobler faith with this vision of the eternal fire which evermore consumes the false and refines the world. chapter vii. paradise and the serpent. herakles and athena in a holy picture--human significance of eden--the legend in genesis puzzling--silence of later books concerning it--its vedic elements--its explanation--episode of the mahábhárata--scandinavian variant--the name of adam--the story re-read--rabbinical interpretations. montfaucon has among his plates one (xx.) representing an antique agate which he supposes to represent zeus and athena, but which probably relates to the myth of herakles and athena in the garden of hesperides. the hero having penetrated this garden, slays the dragon which guards its immortalising fruit, but when he has gathered this fruit athena takes it from him, lest man shall eat it and share the immortality of the gods. in this design the two stand on either side of the tree, around which a serpent is twined from root to branches. the history which montfaucon gives of the agate is of equal interest with the design itself. it was found in an old french cathedral, where it had long been preserved and shown as a holy picture of the temptation. it would appear also to have previously deceived some rabbins, for on the border is written in hebrew characters, much more modern than the central figures, 'the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise.' this mystification about a design, concerning whose origin and design there is now no doubt, is significant. the fable of paradise and the serpent is itself more difficult to trace, so many have been the races and religions which have framed it with their holy texts and preserved it in their sacred precincts. in its essence, no doubt, the story grows from a universal experience; in that aspect it is a mystical rose that speaks all languages. when man first appears his counterpart is a garden. the moral nature means order. the wild forces of nature--the elohim--build no fence, forbid no fruit. they say to man as the supreme animal, subdue the earth; every tree and herb shall be your meat; every animal your slave; be fruitful and multiply. but from the conflict the more real man emerges, and his sign is a garden hedged in from the wilderness, and a separation between good and evil. the form in which the legend appears in the book of genesis presents one side in which it is simple and natural. this has already been suggested (vol. i. p. ). but the legend of man defending his refuge from wild beasts against the most subtle of them is here overlaid by a myth in which it plays the least part. the mind which reads it by such light as may be obtained only from biblical sources can hardly fail to be newly puzzled at every step. so much, indeed, is confessed in the endless and diverse theological theories which the story has elicited. what is the meaning of the curse on the serpent that it should for ever crawl thereafter? had it not crawled previously? why was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil forbidden? why, when its fruit was tasted, should the tree of life have been for the first time forbidden and jealously guarded? these riddles are nowhere solved in the bible, and have been left to the fanciful inventions of theologians and the ingenuity of rabbins. dr. adam clarke thought the serpent was an ape before his sin, and many rabbins concluded he was camel-shaped; but the remaining enigmas have been fairly given up. the ancient jews, they who wrote and compiled the old testament, more candid than their modern descendants and our omniscient christians, silently confessed their inability to make anything out of this snake-story. from the third chapter of genesis to the last verse of malachi the story is not once alluded to! such a phenomenon would have been impossible had this legend been indigenous with the hebrew race. it was clearly as a boulder among them which had floated from regions little known to their earlier writers; after lying naked through many ages, it became overgrown with rabbinical lichen and moss, and, at the christian era, while it seemed part of the hebrew landscape, it was exceptional enough to receive special reverence as a holy stone. that it was made the corner-stone of christian theology may be to some extent explained by the principle of omne ignotum pro mirifico. but the boulder itself can only be explained by tracing it to the mythologic formation from which it crumbled. how would a parsi explain the curse on a snake which condemned it to crawl? he would easily give us evidence that at the time when most of those hebrew scriptures were written, without allusion to such a serpent, the ancient persians believed that ahriman had tempted the first man and woman through his evil mediator, his anointed son, ash-mogh, 'the two-footed serpent.' but let us pass beyond the persian legend, carrying that and the biblical story together, for submission to the criticism of a bráhman. he will tell us that this ash-mogh of the parsi is merely the ancient aèshma-daéva of the avesta, which in turn is ahi, the great vedic serpent-monster whom indra 'prostrated beneath the feet' of the stream he had obstructed--every stream having its deity. he would remind us that the vedas describe the earliest dragon-slayer, indra, as 'crushing the head' of his enemy, and that this figure of the god with his heel on a serpent's head has been familiar to his race from time immemorial. and he would then tell us to read the rig-veda, v. , and the mahábhárata, and we would find all the elements of the story told in genesis. in the hymn referred to we find a graphic account of how, when ahi was sleeping on the waters he obstructed, indra hurled at him his thunderbolt. it says that when indra had 'annihilated the weapon of that mighty beast from him (ahi), another, more powerful, conceiving himself one and unmatched, was generated,' this 'wrath-born son,' 'a walker in darkness,' had managed to get hold of the sacred soma, the plant monopolised by the gods, and having drunk this juice, he lay slumbering and 'enveloping the world,' and then 'fierce indra seized upon him,' and having previously discovered 'the vital part of him who thought, himself invulnerable,' struck that incarnation of many-formed ahi, and he was 'made the lowest of all creatures'. but one who has perused the philological biography of ahi already given, vol. i. p. , will not suppose that this was the end of him. we must now consider in further detail the great episode of the mahábhárata, to which reference has been made in other connections. [ ] during the deluge the most precious treasure of the gods, the amrita, the ambrosia that rendered them immortal, was lost, and the poem relates how the devas and asuras, otherwise gods and serpents, together churned the ocean for it. there were two great mountains,--meru the golden and beautiful, adorned with healing plants, pleasant streams and trees, unapproachable by the sinful, guarded by serpents; mandar, rocky, covered with rank vegetation, infested by savage beasts. the first is the abode of the gods, the last of demons. to find the submerged amrita it was necessary to uproot mandar and use it to churn the ocean. this was done by calling on the king serpent ananta, who called in the aid of another great serpent, vásuki, the latter being used as a rope coiling and uncoiling to whirl the mountain. at last the amrita appeared. but there also streamed forth from the ocean bed a terrible stench and venom, which was spreading through the universe when siva swallowed it to save mankind,--the drug having stained his throat blue, whence his epithet 'blue neck.' when the asuras saw the amrita, they claimed it; but one of the devas, narya, assumed the form of a beautiful woman, and so fascinated them that they forgot the amrita for the moment, which the gods drank. one of the asuras, however, ráhu, assumed the form of a god or deva, and began to drink. the immortalising nectar had not gone farther than his throat when the sun and moon saw the deceit and discovered it to naraya, who cut off ráhu's head. the head of ráhu, being immortal, bounded to the sky, where its efforts to devour the sun and moon, which betrayed him, causes their eclipses. the tail (ketu) also enjoys immortality in a lower plane, and is the fatal planet which sends diseases on mankind. a furious war between the gods and the asuras has been waged ever since. and since the devas are the strongest, it is not wonderful that it should have passed into the folklore of the whole aryan world that the evil host are for ever seeking to recover by cunning the amrita. the serpents guarding the paradise of the devas have more than once, in a mythologic sense, been induced to betray their trust and glide into the divine precincts to steal the coveted draught. this is the kvásir [ ] of the scandinavian mythology, which is the source of that poetic inspiration whose songs have magical potency. the sacramental symbol of the amrita in hindu theology is the soma juice, and this plant indra is declared in the rig-veda (i. ) to have discovered "hidden, like the nestlings of a bird, amidst a pile of rocks enclosed by bushes," where the dragon drought had concealed it. indra, in the shape of a hawk, flew away with it. in the prose edda the frost giant suttung has concealed the sacred juice, and it is kept by the maid gunlauth in a cavern overgrown with bushes. bragi bored a hole through the rock. odin in the shape of a worm crept through the crevice; then resuming his godlike shape, charmed the maid into permitting him to drink one draught out of the three jars; and, having left no drop, in form of an eagle flew to asgard, and discharged in the jars the wonder-working liquid. hence poetry is called odin's booty, and odin's gift. those who attentively compare these myths with the legend in genesis will not have any need to rest upon the doubtful etymology of 'adam' [ ] to establish the ayran origin of the latter. the tree of the knowledge of good and evil which made man 'as one of us' (the elohim) is the soma of india, the haoma of persia, the kvásir of scandinavia, to which are ascribed the intelligence and powers of the gods, and the ardent thoughts of their worshippers. the tree of immortality is the amrita, the only monopoly of the gods. 'the lord god said, behold the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever: therefore the lord god sent him forth the garden of eden to till the ground whence he had been taken. so he drove out the man; and he placed on the east of the garden of eden cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way of the tree of life.' this flaming sword turning every way is independent of the cherub, and takes the place of the serpent which had previously guarded the meru paradise, but is now an enemy no longer to be trusted. if the reader will now re-read the story in genesis with the old names restored, he will perceive that there is no puzzle at all in any part of it:--'now ráhu [because he had stolen and tasted soma] was more subtle than any beast of the field which the devas had made, and he said to adea suktee, the first woman, have the devas said you shall not eat of every tree in the garden? and she said unto ráhu, we may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden; but of the soma-plant, which is in the middle of the garden, the devas have said we shall not eat or touch it on pain of death. then ráhu said to adea, you will not suffer death by tasting soma [i have done so, and live]: the devas know that on the day when you taste it your eyes shall be opened, and you will be equal to them in knowledge of good and evil ... [and you will be able at once to discover which tree it is that bears the fruit which renders you immortal--the amrita].... adea took of the soma and did eat, and gave also unto adima, her husband, and the eyes of them both were opened.... and indra, chief of the devas, said to ráhu, because you have done this, you are cursed above all cattle and above every beast of the field; [for they shall transmigrate, their souls ascend through higher forms to be absorbed in the creative principle; but] upon thy belly shalt thou go [remaining transfixed in the form you have assumed to try and obtain the amrita]; and [instead of the ambrosia you aimed at] you shall eat dirt through all your existence.... and indra said, adima and adea suktee have [tasted soma, and] become as one of us devas [so far as] to know good and evil; and now, lest man put forth his hand [on our precious amrita], and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever [giving us another race of asuras or serpent-men to compete with].... indra and the devas drove adima out of meru, and placed watch-dogs at the east of the garden; and [a sinuous darting flame, precisely matched to the now unchangeable form of ráhu], a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the amrita from adima and asuras.' while the gods and serpents were churning the ocean for the amrita, all woes and troubles for mortals came up first. that ocean shrinks in one region to the box of pandora, in another to the fruit eaten by eve. how foreign such a notion is to the hebrew theology is shown by the fact that even while the curses are falling from the fatal fruit on the earth and man, they are all said to have proceeded solely from jehovah, who is thus made to supplement the serpent's work. it will be seen that in the above version of the story in genesis i have left out various passages. these are in part such as must be more fully treated in the succeeding chapter, and in part the semitic mosses which have grown upon the aryan boulder. but even after the slight treatment which is all i have space to devote to the comparative study of the myth in this aspect, it may be safely affirmed that the problems which we found insoluble by hebrew correlatives no longer exist if an aryan origin be assumed. we know why the fruit of knowledge was forbidden: because it endangered the further fruit of immortality. we know how the serpent might be condemned to crawl for ever without absurdity: because he was of a serpent-race, able to assume higher forms, and capable of transmigration, and of final absorption. we know why the eating of the fruit brought so many woes: it was followed by the stream of poison from the churned ocean which accompanied the amrita, and which would have destroyed the race of both gods and men, had not siva drank it up. if anything were required to make the aryan origin of the fable certain, it will be found in the fact which will appear as we go on,--namely, that the rabbins of our era, in explaining the legend which their fathers severely ignored, did so by borrowing conceptions foreign to the original ideas of their race,--notions about human transformation to animal shapes, and about the serpent (which moses honoured), and mainly of a kind travestying the iranian folklore. such contact with foreign races for the first time gave the jews any key to the legend which their patriarchs and prophets were compelled to pass over in silence. chapter viii. eve. the fall of man--fall of gods--giants--prajápati and ráhu--woman and star-serpent in persia--meschia and meschiane--bráhman legends of the creation of man--the strength of woman--elohist and jehovist creations of man--the forbidden fruit--eve reappears as sara--abraham surrenders his wife to jehovah--the idea not sensual--abraham's circumcision--the evil name of woman--noah's wife--the temptation of abraham--rabbinical legends concerning eve--pandora--sentiment of the myth of eve. the insignificance of the serpent of eden in the scheme and teachings of the hebrew bible is the more remarkable when it is considered that the pessimistic view of human nature is therein fully represented. in the story of the temptation itself, there is, indeed, no such generalisation as we find in the modern dogma of the fall of man; but the elements of it are present in the early assumption that the thoughts of man's heart run to evil continually,--which must be an obvious fact everywhere while goodness is identified with fictitious merits. there are also expressions suggesting a theory of heredity, of a highly superstitious character,--the inheritance being by force of the ancestral word or act, and without reference to inherent qualities. outward merits and demerits are transmitted for reward and punishment to the third and fourth generation; but the more common-sense view appears to have gradually superseded this, as expressed in the proverb that the fathers ate sour grapes and the children's teeth were on edge. in accounting for this condition of human nature, popular traditions among the jews always pointed rather to a fall of the gods than to any such catastrophe to man. 'the sons of the elohim (gods) saw the daughters of men that they were beautiful, and they took to themselves for wives whomsoever they chose.' 'there were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of god came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men, which were of old men of renown.' [ ] these giants were to the semitic mind what the ahis, vritras, sushnas and other monsters were to the aryan, or titans to the greek mind. they were not traced to the serpent, but to the wild nature-gods, the elohim, and when jehovah appears it is to wage war against them. the strength of this belief is illustrated in the ample accounts given in the old testament of the rephaim and their king og, the anakim and goliath, the emim, the zamzummim, and others, all of which gained full representation in hebrew folklore. the existence of these hostile beings was explained by their fall from angelic estate. the book of enoch gives what was no doubt the popular understanding of the fall of the angels and its results. two hundred angels took wives of the daughters of men, and their offspring were giants three thousand yards in height. these giants having consumed the food of mankind, began to devour men, whose cries were brought to the attention of jehovah by his angels. one angel was sent to warn noah of the flood; another to bind azazel in a dark place in the desert till the judgment day; gabriel was despatched to set the giants to destroying one another; michael was sent to bury the fallen angels under the hills for seventy generations, till the day of judgment, when they should be sent to the fiery abyss for ever. then every evil work should come to an end, and the plant of righteousness spring up. [ ] such exploits and successes on the part of the legal deity against outlaws, though they may be pitched high in heroic romance, are found beside a theology based upon a reverse situation. nothing is more fundamental in the ancient jewish system than the recognition of an outside world given over to idolatry and wickedness, while jews are a small colony of the children of israel and chosen of jehovah. such a conception in primitive times is so natural, and possibly may have been so essential to the constitution of nations, that it is hardly useful to look for parallels. though nearly all races see in their traditional dawn an age of gold, a happy garden, or some corresponding felicity, these are normally defined against anterior chaos or surrounding ferocity. every eden has had its guards. when we come to legends which relate particularly to the way in which the early felicity was lost, many facts offer themselves for comparative study. and with regard to the myths of eden and eve, we may remark what appears to have been a curious interchange of legends between the hebrews and persians. the ancient doctrines of india and persia concerning origins are largely, if not altogether, astronomical. in the genesis of india we see a golden egg floating on a shoreless ocean; it divides to make the heaven above and earth beneath; from it emerges prajápati, who also falls in twain to make the mortal and immortal substances; the parts of him again divide to make men and women on earth, sun and moon in the sky. this is but one version out of many, but all the legends about prajápati converge in making him a figure of indian astronomy. in the rig-veda he is orion, and for ever lies with the three arrows in his belt which sirius shot at him because of his love for aldebaran,--towards which constellation he stretches. now, in a sort of antithesis to this, the evil ráhu is also cut in twain, his upper and immortal part pursuing and trying to eclipse the sun and moon, his tail (ketu) becoming the th planet, shedding evil influences on mankind. [ ] this tail, ketu, is quite an independent monster, and we meet with him in the persian planisphere, where he rules the first of the six mansions of ahriman, and is the 'crooked serpent' mentioned in the book of job. by referring to vol. i. p. , the reader will see that this star-serpent must stand as close to the woman with her child and sheaf as september stands to october. but unquestionably the woman was put there for honour and not disgrace; with her child and sheaf she represented the fruitage of the year. there is nothing in persian mythology going to show that the woman betrayed her mansion of fruitage--the golden year--to the serpent near her feet. in the bundehesch we have the original man, kaiomarts, who is slain by ahriman as prajápati (orion) was by sirius; from his dead form came meschia and meschiane, the first human pair. ahriman corrupts them by first giving them goats' milk, an evil influence from capricorn. after they had thus injured themselves he tempted them with a fruit which robbed them of ninety-nine hundredths of their happiness. in all this there is no indication that the woman and man bore different relations to the calamity. but after a time we find a parsî postscript to this effect: 'the woman was the first to sacrifice to the devas.' this is the one item in the parsî mythology which shows bias against woman, and as it is unsupported by the narratives preceding it, we may suppose that it was derived from some foreign country. that country could hardly have been india. there is a story in remote districts of india which relates that the first woman was born out of an expanding lotus on the ganges, and was there received in his paradise by the first man (adima, or manu). having partaken of the soma, they were expelled, after first being granted their prayer to be allowed a last draught from the ganges; the effect of the holy water being to prevent entire corruption, and secure immortality to their souls. but nowhere in indian legend or folklore do we find any special dishonour put upon woman such as is described in the hebrew story. rather we find the reverse. early in the last century, a traveller, john marshall, related stories of the creation which he says were told him by the brahmins, and others 'by the brahmins of persia.' [ ] 'once on a time,' the brahmins said, 'as (god) was set in eternity, it came into his mind to make something, and immediately no sooner had he thought the same, but that the same minute was a perfect beautiful woman present immediately before him, which he called adea suktee, that is, the first woman. then this figure put into his mind the figure of a man; which he had no sooner conceived in his mind, but that he also started up, and represented himself before him; this he called manapuise, that is, the first man; then, upon a reflection of these things, he resolved further to create several places for them to abide in, and accordingly, assuming a subtil body, he breathed in a minute the whole universe, and everything therein, from the least to the greatest.' 'the brahmins of persia tell certain long stories of a great giant that was led into a most delicate garden, which, upon certain conditions, should be his own for ever. but one evening in a cool shade one of the wicked devatas, or spirits, came to him, and tempted him with vast sums of gold, and all the most precious jewels that can be imagined; but he courageously withstood that temptation, as not knowing what value or use they were of: but at length this wicked devata brought to him a fair woman, who so charmed him that for her sake he most willingly broke all his conditions, and thereupon was turned out.' in the first of these two stories the names given to the man and woman are popular words derived from sanskrit. in the second the persian characters are present, as in the use of devatas to denote wicked powers; but for the rest, this latter legend appears to me certainly borrowed from the jews so far as the woman is concerned. it was they who first perceived any connection between virgo in the sixth mansion of ormuzd, and python in the seventh, and returned the persians their planisphere with a new gloss. having adopted the dragon's tail (ketu) for a little preliminary performance, the hebrew system dismisses that star-snake utterly; for it has already evolved a terrestrial devil from its own inner consciousness. the name of that devil is--woman. the diabolisation of woman in their theology and tradition is not to be regarded as any indication that the hebrews anciently held women in dishonour; rather was it a tribute to her powers of fascination such as the young man wrote to be placed under the pillow of darius--'woman is strongest.' as darius and his council agreed that, next to truth, woman is strongest--stronger than wine or than kings, so do the hebrew fables testify by interweaving her beauty and genius with every evil of the world. between the elohist and jahvist accounts of the creation of man, there are two differences of great importance. the elohim are said to have created man in their own image, male and female,--the word for 'created' being bará, literally meaning to carve out. jehovah elohim is said to have formed man,--nothing being said about his own image, or about male and female,--the word formed being yatsar'. the sense of this word yatsar in this place (gen. ii. ) must be interpreted by what follows: jehovah is said to have formed man out of the aphar', which the english version translates dust, but the septuagint more correctly sperma. the literal meaning is a finely volatilised substance, and in numbers xxiii. , it is used to represent the seed of jacob. in the jehovistic creation it means that man was formed out of the seminal principle of the earth combined with the breath of jehovah; and the legend closely resembles the account of the ancient satapatha-bráhmana, which shows the creative power in sexual union with the fluid world to produce the egg from which prajápati was born, to be divided into man and woman. these two accounts, therefore,--to wit, that in the first and that in the second chapter of genesis,--must be regarded as being of different events, and not merely varying myths of the same event. the offspring of jehovah were 'living souls,' an expression not used in connection with the created images of the giants or elohim. the elohist pair roam about the world freely eating all fruits and herbs, possessing nature generally, and, as male and female, encouraged to increase and multiply; but jehovah carefully separates his two children from general nature, places them in a garden, forbids certain food, and does not say a word about sex even, much less encourage its functions. adam was formed simply to be the gardener of eden; no other motive is assigned. in proposing the creation of a being to be his helper and companion, nothing is said about a new sex,--the word translated 'help-meet' (ézer) is masculine. adam names the being made 'woman,' (vulg. virago) only because she has been made out of man, but sex is not even yet suggested. this is so marked that the compiler has filled up what he considered an omission with (verse ) a little lecture on duty to wives. it is plain that the jealously-guarded ambrosia of aryan gods has here been adapted to signify the sexual relation. that is the fruit in the midst of the garden which is reserved. the eating of it is immediately associated with consciousness of nudity and shame. the curse upon eve is appropriate. having taken a human husband, she is to be his slave; she shall bring forth children in sorrow, and many of them (gen. iii. ). adam is to lose his position in jehovah's garden, and to toil in accursed ground, barren and thorny. cast out thus into the wilderness, the human progeny as it increased came in contact with the giant's progeny,--those created by the elohim (gen. i.). when these had intermarried, jehovah said that the fact that the human side in such alliance had been originally vitalised by his breath could not now render it immortal, because 'he (man) also is flesh,' i.e., like the creatures of the nature-gods. after two great struggles with these titans, drowning most of them, hurling down their tower and scattering them, jehovah resolved upon a scheme of vast importance, and one which casts a flood of light upon the narrative just given. jehovah's great aim is shown in the abrahamic covenant to be to found a family on earth, of which he can say, 'thou art my son; i have begotten thee.' eve was meant to be the mother of that family, but by yielding to her passion for the man meant only to be her companion she had thwarted the purpose of jehovah. but she reappears again under the name of sara; and from first to last the sense of these records, however overlaid by later beliefs, is the expansion, varying fortunes, and gradual spiritualisation of this aspiration of a deity for a family of his own in the earth. celsus said that the story of the virgin mary and the holy ghost is one in which christians would find little 'mystery' if the names were danaë and jupiter. the same may be said of the story of sara and jehovah, of which that concerning mary is a theological travesty. sarai (as she was called before her transfer to jehovah, who then forbade abraham to call her 'my princess,' but only 'princess') was chosen because she was childless. abraham was paid a large recompense for her surrender, and provision was made that he should have a mistress, and by her a son. this natural son was to be renowned and have great possessions; nominally abraham was to be represented by sara's miraculously-conceived son, and to control his fortunes, but the blood of the new race was to be purely divine in its origin, so that every descendant of isaac might be of jehovah's family in abraham's household. abraham twice gave over his wife to different kings who were jealously punished by jehovah for sins they only came near committing unconsciously, while abraham himself was not even rebuked for the sin he did commit. the forbidden fruit was not eaten this time; and the certificate and proof of the supernatural conception of isaac were made clear in sarah's words--'god hath made me to laugh: all that hear will laugh with me: who would have said unto abraham that sarah should have given children suck? for i have borne a son in his old age.' [ ] it was the passionate nature and beauty of woman which had thus far made the difficulty. the forbidden fruit was 'pleasant to the eyes,' and eve ate it; and it was her 'voice' to which adam had hearkened rather than to that of jehovah (gen. iii. ). and, again, it was the easy virtue and extreme beauty of sara (gen. xii. , ) which endangered the new scheme. the rabbinical traditions are again on this point very emphatic. it is related that when abram came to the border of egypt he hid sara in a chest, and was so taking her into that country. the collector of customs charged that the chest contained raiment, silks, gold, pearls, and abram paid for all these; but this only increased the official's suspicions, and he compelled abram to open the chest; when this was done and sara rose up, the whole land of egypt was illumined by her splendour. [ ] there is no reason for supposing that the ideas underlying the relation which jehovah meant to establish with eve, and succeeded in establishing with sara, were of a merely sensual description. these myths belong to the mental region of ancestor-worship, and the fundamental conception is that of founding a family to reign over all other families. jehovah's interest is in isaac rather than sara, who, after she has borne that patriarch, lapses out of the story almost as completely as eve. the idea is not, indeed, so theological as it became in the judaic-christian legend of the conception of jesus by mary as spouse of the deity; it was probably, however, largely ethnical in the case of eve, and national in that of sara. it being considered of the utmost importance that all who claimed the advantages in the jewish commonwealth accruing only to the legal, though nominal, 'children of abraham,' should really be of divine lineage, security must be had against isaac having any full brother. it might be that in after time some natural son of sara might claim to be the one born of divine parentage, might carry on the jewish commonwealth, slay the children of jehovah by sara, and so end the divine lineage with the authority it carried. careful precautions having been taken that ishmael should be an 'irreconcilable,' there is reason to suspect that the position of isaac as jehovah's 'only-begotten son' was secured by means obscurely hinted in the circumcision first undergone by abraham, and made the sign of the covenant. that circumcision, wheresoever it has survived, is the relic of a more horrible practice of barbarian asceticism, is hardly doubtful; that the original rite was believed to have been that by which abraham fulfilled his contract with jehovah, appears to me intimated in various passages of the narrative which have survived editorial arrangement in accordance with another view. for instance, the vast inducements offered abraham, and the great horror that fell on the patriarch, appear hardly explicable on the theory that nothing was conceded on abraham's side beyond the surrender of a wife whom he had freely consigned to earthly monarchs. though the suspicion just expressed as to the nature of abraham's circumcision may be doubted, it is not questionable that the rite of circumcision bears a significance in rabbinical traditions and jewish usages which renders its initiation by abraham at least a symbol of marital renunciation. thus, the custom of placing in a room where the rite of circumcision was performed a pot of dust, was explained by the rabbins to have reference to the dust which jehovah declared should be the serpent's food. [ ] that circumcision should have been traditionally associated with the temptation of eve is a confirmation of the interpretation which regards her (eve) as the prototype of sara and the serpent as sexual desire. although, if the original sense of abraham's circumcision were what has been suggested, it had been overlaid, when the book of genesis in its present form was compiled, by different traditions, and that patriarch is described as having married again and had other children, the superior sanctity of sara's son was preserved. indeed, there would seem to have continued for a long time a tradition that the abrahamic line and covenant were to be carried out by 'the seed of the woman' alone, and the paternity of jehovah. like sara, rebekah is sterile, and after her rachel; the birth of jacob and esau from one, and of joseph and benjamin from the other, being through the intervention of jehovah. the great power of woman for good or evil, and the fact that it has often been exercised with subtlety--the natural weapon of the weak in dealing with the strong--are remarkably illustrated in the legends of these female figures which appear in connection with the divine schemes in the book of genesis. but even more the perils of woman's beauty are illustrated, especially in eve and sara. there were particular and obvious reasons why these representative women could not be degraded or diabolised in their own names or history, even where their fascinations tended to countervail the plans of jehovah. the readiness with which sara promoted her husband's prostitution and consented to her own, the treachery of rebekah to her son esau, could yet not induce jewish orthodoxy to give evil names to the madonnas of their race; but the inference made was expressed under other forms and names. it became a settled superstition that wherever evil was going on, woman was at the bottom of it. potiphar's wife, jezebel, vashti, and delilah, were among the many she-scape-goats on whom were laid the offences of their august official predecessors who 'could do no wrong.' even after satan has come upon the scene, and is engaged in tempting job, it seems to have been thought essential to the task that he should have an agent beside the troubled man in the wife who bade him 'curse god and die.' it is impossible to say at just what period the rabbins made their ingenious discovery that the devil and woman entered the world at the same time,--he coming out of the hole left by removal of the rib from adam before it was closed. this they found disclosed in the fact that it is in genesis iii. , describing the creation of woman, that there appears for the first time samech--the serpent-letter s (in vajisgor). [ ] but there were among them many legends of a similar kind that leave one no wonder concerning the existence of a thanksgiving taught boys that they have not been created women, however much one may be scandalised at its continuance in the present day. it was only in pursuance of this theory of woman that there was developed at a later day a female assistant of the devil in another design to foil the plans of jehovah, from the scriptual narrative of which the female rôle is omitted. in the scriptural legend of noah his wife is barely mentioned, and her name is not given, but from an early period vague rumours to her discredit floated about, and these gathered consistency in the gnostic legend that it was through her that satan managed to get on board the ark, as is elsewhere related (part iv. chap. xxvii.), and was so enabled to resuscitate antediluvial violence in the drunken curses of noah. satan did this by working upon both the curiosity and jealousy of noraita, the name assigned noah's wife. it has been necessary to give at length the comparative view of the myth of eden in order that the reader may estimate the grounds upon which rests a theory which has been submitted after much hesitation concerning its sense. the 'phallic' theory by which it has become the fashion to interpret so many of these old fables, appears to me to have been done to death; yet i cannot come to any other conclusion concerning the legend of eve than that she represents that passional nature of woman which, before it was brought under such rigid restraint, might easily be regarded as a weakness to any tribe desirous of keeping itself separate from other tribes. the oath exacted by abraham of his servant that he should seek out a wife from among his own people, and not among canaanitish women, is one example among many of this feeling, which, indeed, survives among jews at the present day. such a sentiment might underlie the stories of eve and sara--the one mingling the blood of the family of jehovah with mere human flesh, the other nearly confusing it with aliens. as the idea of tribal sanctity and separateness became strengthened by the further development of theocratic government, such myths would take on forms representing jehovah's jealousy in defending his family line against the evil powers which sought to confuse or destroy it. one such attempt appears to underlie the story of the proposed sacrifice of isaac. although the account we have of that proceeding in the bible was written at a time when the elohist and jahvist parties had compromised their rivalries to some extent, and suggests the idea that jehovah himself ordered the sacrifice in order to try the faith of abraham, enough of the primitive tradition lingers in the narrative to make it probable that its original intent was to relate how one of the superseded elohim endeavoured to tempt abraham to sacrifice sara's only son, and so subvert the aim of jehovah to perpetuate his seed. the god who 'tempted abraham' is throughout sharply distinguished from the jehovah who sent his angel to prevent the sacrifice and substitute an animal victim for isaac. although, as we have seen, sara was spared degradation into a she-devil in subsequent myths, because her body was preserved intact despite her laxity of mind, such was not the case with eve. the silence concerning her preserved throughout the bible after her fall is told was broken by the ancient rabbins, and there arose multitudinous legends in which her intimacies with devils are circumstantially reported. her first child, cain, was generally believed to be the son of one of the devils (samaël) that consorted with her, and the world was said to be peopled with gnomes and demons which she brought forth during that years at the end of which it is stated that adam begot a son in his own image and likeness, and called his name seth (gen. v. ). the previous children were supposed to be not in purely human form, and not to have been of adam's paternity. adam had during that time refused to have any children, knowing that he would only rear inmates of hell. the legend of eden has gone round the world doing various duty, but nearly always associated with the introduction of moral evil into the world. in the lateran museum at rome there is a remarkable bas-relief representing a nude man and woman offering sacrifice before a serpent coiled around a tree, while an angel overthrows the altar with his foot. this was probably designed as a fling at the ophites, and is very interesting as a survival from the ancient aryan meaning of the serpent. but since the adaptation of the myth by the semitic race, it has generally emphasised the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, instead of the tree of immortality (amrita), which is the chief point of interest in the aryan myth. there are indeed traces of a conflict with knowledge and scepticism in it which we shall have to consider hereafter. the main popular association with it, the introduction into the world of all the ills that flesh is heir to, is perfectly consistent with the sense which has been attributed to its early hebrew form; for this includes the longing for maternity, its temptations and its pains, and the sorrows and sins which are obviously traceable to it. some years ago, when the spectacular drama of 'paradise' was performed in paris, the temptation was effected by means of a mirror. satan glided behind the tree as a serpent, and then came forth as a handsome man, and after uttering compliments that she could not understand, presented eve with a small oval mirror which explained them all. mlle. abingdon as eve displayed consummate art in her expression of awakening self-admiration, of the longing for admiration from the man before her, and the various stages of self-consciousness by which she is brought under the tempter's power. this idea of the mirror was no doubt borrowed from the corresponding fable of pandora. on a vase (etruscan) in the hamilton collection there is an admirable representation of pandora opening her box, from which all evils are escaping. she is seated beneath a tree, around which a serpent is coiled. among the things which have come out of the box is this same small oval mirror. in this variant, hope, coming out last corresponds with the prophecy that the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head. the ancient etruscan and the modern parisian version are both by the mirror finely connected with the sexual sense of the legend. the theological interpretation of the beautiful myth of eden represents a sort of spiritual vivisection; yet even as a dogma the story preserves high testimony: when woman falls the human race falls with her; when man rises above his inward or outward degradations and recovers his paradise, it is because his nature is refined by the purity of woman, and his home sweetened by her heart. there is a widespread superstition that every serpent will single out a woman from any number of people for its attack. in such dim way is felt her gentle bruising of man's reptilian self. no wonder that woman is excluded from those regions of life where man's policy is still to crawl, eat dust, and bite the heel. it is, i suppose, the old mystery of the creation which left coventry its legend of a good eve (godiva, whose name is written 'good eve' in a conventry verse, ), whose nakedness should bring benefit to man, as that of the first eve brought him evil. the fig-leaf of eve, gathered no doubt from the tree whose forbidden fruit she had eaten, has gradually grown so large as to cloak her mind and spirit as well as her form. her work must still be chiefly that of a spirit veiled and ashamed. her passions suppressed, her genius disbelieved, her influence forced to seek hidden and often illegitimate channels, woman now outwardly represents a creation of man to suit his own convenience. but the serpent has also changed a great deal since the days of eve, and now, as intelligence, has found out man in his fool's-paradise, where he stolidly maintains that, with few exceptions, it is good for man to be alone. but good women are remembering godiva; and realising that, the charms which have sometimes lowered man or cost him dear may be made his salvation. it shall be so when woman can face with clear-eyed purity all the facts of nature, can cast away the mental and moral swathing-clothes transmitted from eden, and put forth all her powers for the welfare of mankind,--a good eva, whom coventry toms may call naked, but who is 'not ashamed' of the garb of innocence and truth. chapter ix. lilith. madonnas--adam's first wife--her flight and doom--creation of devils--lilith marries samaël--tree of life--lilith's part in the temptation--her locks--lamia--bodeima--meschia and meschiane--amazons--maternity--rib-theory of woman--káli and durga--captivity of woman. the attempt of the compilers of the book of genesis to amalgamate the elohist and jehovist legends, ignoring the moral abyss that yawns between them, led to some sufficiently curious results. one of these it may be well enough to examine here, since, though later in form than some other legends which remain to be considered, it is closely connected in spirit with the ancient myth of eden and illustrative of it. the differences between the two creations of man and woman critically examined in the previous chapter were fully recognised by the ancient rabbins, and their speculations on the subject laid the basis for the further legend that the woman created (gen. i.) at the same time with adam, and therefore not possibly the woman formed from his rib, was a first wife who turned out badly. to this first wife of adam it was but natural to assign the name of one of the many ancient goddesses who had been degraded into demonesses. for the history of mariolatry in the north of europe has been many times anticipated: the mother's tenderness and self-devotion, the first smile of love upon social chaos, availed to give every race its madonna, whose popularity drew around her the fatal favours of priestcraft, weighing her down at last to be a type of corruption. even the semitic tribes, with their hard masculine deities, seem to have once worshipped alilat, whose name survives in elohim and allah. among these degraded madonnas was lilith, whose name has been found in a chaldean inscription, which says, when a country is at peace 'lilith (lilatu) is not before them.' the name is from assyr. lay'lâ, hebrew lil (night), which already in accadian meant 'sorcery.' it probably personified, at first, the darkness that soothed children to slumber; and though the word lullaby has, with more ingenuity than accuracy, been derived from lilith abi, the theory may suggest the path by which the soft southern night came to mean a nocturnal spectre. the only place where the name of lilith occurs in the bible is isa. xxxiv. , where the english version renders it 'screech-owl.' in the vulgate it is translated 'lamia,' and in luther's bible, 'kobold;' gesenius explains it as 'nocturna, night-spectre, ghost.' the rabbinical myths concerning lilith, often passed over as puerile fancies, appear to me pregnant with significance and beauty. thus abraham ecchelensis, giving a poor arabic version of the legend, says, 'this fable has been transmitted to the arabs from jewish sources by some converts of mahomet from cabbalism and rabbinism, who have transferred all the jewish fooleries to the arabs.' [ ] but the rabbinical legend grew very slowly, and relates to principles and facts of social evolution whose force and meaning are not yet exhausted. premising that the legend is here pieced together mainly from eisenmenger, [ ] who at each mention of the subject gives ample references to rabbinical authorities, i will relate it without further references of my own. lilith was said to have been created at the same time and in the same way as adam; and when the two met they instantly quarrelled about the headship which both claimed. adam began the first conversation by asserting that he was to be her master. lilith replied that she had equal right to be chief. adam insisting, lilith uttered a certain spell called schem-hammphorasch--afterwards confided by a fallen angel to one of 'the daughters of men' with whom he had an intrigue, and of famous potency in jewish folklore--the result of which was that she obtained wings. lilith then flew out of eden and out of sight. [ ] adam then cried in distress--'master of the world, the woman whom thou didst give me has flown away.' the creator then sent three angels to find lilith and persuade her to return to the garden; but she declared that it could be no paradise to her if she was to be the servant of man. she remained hovering over the red sea, where the angels had found her, while these returned with her inflexible resolution. and she would not yield even after the angels had been sent again to convey to her, as the alternative of not returning, the doom that she should bear many children but these should all die in infancy. this penalty was so awful that lilith was about to commit suicide by drowning herself in the sea, when the three angels, moved by her anguish, agreed that she should have the compensation of possessing full power over all children after birth up to their eighth day; on which she promised that she would never disturb any babes who were under their (the angels') protection. hence the charm (camea) against lilith hung round the necks of jewish children bore the names of these three angels--senói, sansenói, and sammangelóf. lilith has special power over all children born out of wedlock for whom she watches, dressed in finest raiment; and she has especial power on the first day of the month, and on the sabbath evening. when a little child laughs in its sleep it was believed that lilith was with it, and the babe must be struck on the nose three times, the words being thrice repeated--'away, cursed lilith! thou hast no place here!' the divorce between lilith and adam being complete, the second eve (i.e., mother) was now formed, and this time out of adam's rib in order that there might be no question of her dependence, and that the embarrassing question of woman's rights might never be raised again. but about this time the devils were also created. these beings were the last of the six days' creation, but they were made so late in the day that there was no daylight by which to fashion bodies for them. the creator was just putting them off with a promise that he would make them bodies next day, when lo! the sabbath--which was for a long time personified--came and sat before him, to represent the many evils which might result from the precedent he would set by working even a little on the day whose sanctity had already been promulgated. under these circumstances the creator told the devils that they must disperse and try to get bodies as they could find them. on this account they have been compelled ever since to seek carnal enjoyments by nestling in the hearts of human beings and availing themselves of human senses and passions. these devils as created were ethereal spirits; they had certain atmospheric forms, but felt that they had been badly treated in not having been provided with flesh and blood, and they were envious of the carnal pleasures which human beings could enjoy. so long as man and woman remained pure, the devils could not take possession of their bodies and enjoy such pleasures, and it was therefore of great importance to them that the first human pair should be corrupted. at the head of these devils stood now a fallen angel--samaël. of this archfiend more is said elsewhere; at this point it need only be said that he had been an ideal flaming serpent, leader of the seraphim. he was already burning with lust and envy, as he witnessed the pleasures of adam and eve in eden, when he found beautiful lilith lamenting her wrongs in loneliness. she became his wife. the name of samaël by one interpretation signifies 'the left'; and we may suppose that lilith found him radical on the question of female equality which she had raised in eden. he gave her a splendid kingdom where she was attended by troops; but all this could not compensate her for the loss of eden,--she seems never to have regretted parting with adam,--and for the loss of her children. she remained the lady of sorrow. her great enemy was machalath who presided over troops, and who was for ever dancing, as lilith was for ever sighing and weeping. it was long believed that at certain times the voice of lilith's grief could be heard in the air. samaël found in lilith a willing conspirator against jehovah in his plans for man and woman. the corruption of these two meant, to the troops of samaël, bringing their bodies down into a plane where they might be entered by themselves (the devils), not to mention at present the manifold other motives by which they were actuated. it may be remarked also that in the rabbinical traditions, after their aryan impregnation, there are traces of a desire of the devils to reach the tree of life. truly a wondrous tree! around it, in its place at the east of eden, sang six hundred thousand lovely angels with happy hymns, and it glorified the vast garden. it possessed five hundred thousand different flavours and odours, which were wafted to the four sides of the world by zephyrs from seven lustrous clouds that made its canopy. beneath it sat the disciples of wisdom on resplendent seats, screened from the blaze of sun, moon, and cloud-veiled from potency of the stars (there was no night); and within were the joys referred to in the verse (prov. viii. ), 'that i may cause those that love me to inherit substance; and i will fill their treasures.' had there been an order of female rabbins the story of lilith might have borne obvious modifications, and she might have appeared as a heroine anxious to rescue her sex from slavery to man. as it is the immemorial prerogative of man to lay all blame upon woman, that being part of the hereditary following of adam, it is not wonderful that lilith was in due time made responsible for the temptation of eve. she was supposed to have beguiled the serpent on guard at the gate of eden to lend her his form for a time, after which theory the curse on the serpent might mean the binding of lilith for ever in that form. this would appear to have originated the notion mentioned in comestor (hist. schol., th cent.), that while the serpent was yet erect it had a virgin's head. the accompanying example is from a very early missal in the possession of sir joseph hooker, of which i could not discover the date or history, but the theory is traceable in the eighth century. in this picture we have an early example of those which have since become familiar in old bibles. pietro d'orvieto painted this serpent-woman in his finest fresco, at pisa. perhaps in no other picture has the genius of michæl angelo been more felicitous than in that on the ceiling of the sistine chapel, in which lilith is portrayed. in this picture (fig. ) the marvellous beauty of his first wife appears to have awakened the enthusiasm of adam; and, indeed, it is quite in harmony with the earlier myth that lilith should be of greater beauty than eve. an artist and poet of our own time (rossetti) has by both of his arts celebrated the fatal beauty of lilith. his lilith, bringing 'soft sleep,' antedates, as i think, the fair devil of the rabbins, but is also the mediæval witch against whose beautiful locks mephistopheles warns faust when she appears at the walpurgis-night orgie. the rose and poppy are her flowers; for where is he not found, o lilith, whom shed scent and soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare? lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent, and round his heart one strangling golden hair. the potency of lilith's tresses has probably its origin in the hairy nature ascribed by the rabbins to all demons (shedim), and found fully represented in esau. perhaps the serpent-locks of medusa had a similar origin. nay, there is a suggestion in dante that these tresses of medusa may have once represented fascinating rather than horrible serpents. as she approaches, virgil is alarmed for his brother-poet: 'turn thyself back, and keep thy vision hid; for, if the gorgon show, and then behold, 'twould all be o'er with e'er returning up.' so did the master say; and he himself turned me, and to my own hands trusted not, but that with his too he should cover me. o you that have a sane intelligence, look ye unto the doctrine which herein conceals itself 'neath the strange verses' veil. [ ] if this means that the security against evil is to veil the eyes from it, virgil's warning would be against a beautiful seducer, similar to the warning given by mephistopheles to faust against the fatal charms of lilith. since, however, even in the time of homer, the gorgon was a popular symbol of terrors, the possibility of a survival in dante's mind of any more primitive association with medusa is questionable. the pauline doctrine, that the glory of a woman is her hair, no doubt had important antecedents: such glory might easily be degraded, and every hair turn to a fatal 'binder,' like the one golden thread of lilith round the heart of her victim; or it might ensnare its owner. in treves cathedral there is a curious old picture of a woman carried to hell by her beautiful hair; one devil draws her by it, another is seated on her back and drives her by locks of it as a bridle. in the later developments of the myth of lilith she was, among the arabs, transformed to a ghoul, but in rabbinical legend she appears to have been influenced by the story of lamia, whose name is substituted for lilith in the vulgate. like lilith, lamia was robbed of her children, and was driven by despair to avenge herself on all children. [ ] the name of lamia was long used to frighten italian children, as that of lilith was by hebrew nurses. it is possible that the part assigned to lilith in the temptation of eve may have been suggested by ancient egyptian sculptures, which represent the tree of life in amenti (paradise) guarded by the serpent-goddess nu. one of these in the british museum represents the osirian on his journey to heaven, and his soul in form of a human-headed bird, drinking the water of life as poured out to them from a jar by the goddess who coils around the sacred sycamore, her woman's bust and face appearing amid the branches much like lilith in our old pictures. the singhalese also have a kind of lilith or lamia whom they call bodrima, though she is not so much dreaded for the sake of children as for her vindictive feelings towards men. she is the ghost of a woman who died in childbirth and in great agony. she may be heard wailing in the night, it is said, and if she meets any man will choke him to death. when her wailing is heard men are careful to stay within doors, but the women go forth with brooms in their hands and abuse bodrima with epithets. she fears women, especially when they carry brooms. but the women have also some compassion for this poor ghost, and often leave a lamp and some betel leaves where she may get some warmth and comfort from them. if bodrima be fired at, there may be found, perhaps, a dead lizard near the spot in the morning. as protomartyr of female independence, lilith suffered a fate not unlike that of her sisters and successors in our own time who have appealed from the legendary decision made in eden: she became the prototype of the 'strong-minded' and 'cold-hearted' woman, and personification of the fatal fascination of the passionless. her special relation to children was gradually expanded, and she was regarded as the perilous seducer of young men, each of her victims perishing of unrequited passion. she was ever young, and always dressed with great beauty. it would seem that the curse upon her for forsaking adam--that her children should die in infancy--was escaped in the case of the children she had by samaël. she was almost as prolific as echidna. through all the latter rabbinical lore it is repeated, 'samaël is the fiery serpent, lilith the crooked serpent,' and from their union came leviathan, asmodeus, and indeed most of the famous devils. there is an ancient persian legend of the first man and woman, meschia and meschiane, that they for a long time lived happily together: they hunted together, and discovered fire, and made an axe, and with it built them a hut. but no sooner had they thus set up housekeeping than they fought terribly, and, after wounding each other, parted. it is not said which remained ruler of the hut, but we learn that after fifty years of divorce they were reunited. these legends show the question of equality of the sexes to have been a very serious one in early times. the story of meschia and meschiane fairly represents primitive man living by the hunt; that of eden shows man entering on the work of agriculture. in neither of these occupations would there be any reason why woman should be so unequal as to set in motion the forces which have diminished her physical stature and degraded her position. women can still hunt and fish, and they are quite man's equal in tilling the soil. [ ] in all sex-mythology there are intimations that women were taken captive. the proclamation of female subordination is made not only in the legend of eve's creation out of the man's rib, but in the emphasis with which her name is declared to have been given her because she was the mother of all living. in the variously significant legends of the amazons they are said to have burned away their breasts that they might use the bow: in the history of contemporary amazons--such as the female areoi of polynesia--the legend is interpreted in the systematic slaughter of their children. in the hunt, meschia might be aided by meschiane in many ways; in dressing the garden adam might find lilith or eve a 'help meet' for the work; but in the brutal régime of war the child disables woman, and the affections of maternity render her man's inferior in the work of butchery. herakles wins great glory by slaying hyppolite; but the legends of her later reappearances--as libussa at prague, &c.,--follow the less mythological story of the amazons given by herodotus (iv. ), who represents the scythians as gradually disarming them by sending out their youths to meet them with dalliance instead of with weapons. the youths went off with their captured captors, and from their union sprang the sauromatæ, among whom the men and women dressed alike, and fought and hunted together. but of the real outcome of that truce and union tennyson can tell us more than herodotus: in his princess we see the woman whom maternity and war have combined to produce, her independence betrayed by the tenderness of her nature. the surrender, once secured, was made permanent for ages by the sentiments and sympathies born of the child's appeal for compassion. in primitive ages the child must in many cases have been a burthen even to man in the struggle for existence; the population question could hardly have failed to press its importance upon men, as it does even upon certain animals; and it would be an especial interest to a man not to have his hut overrun with offspring not his own,--turning his fair labour into drudgery for their support, and so cursing the earth for him. thus, while polyandry was giving rise to the obvious complications under which it must ultimately disappear, it would be natural that devils of lust should be invented to restrain the maternal instinct. but as time went on the daughters of eve would have taken the story of her fall and hardships too much to heart. the pangs and perils of childbirth were ever-present monitors whose warnings might be followed too closely. the early jewish laws bear distinct traces of the necessity which had arrived for insisting on the command to increase and multiply. under these changed circumstances it would be natural that the story of a recusant and passionless eve should arise and suffer the penalties undergone by lilith,--the necessity of bearing, as captive, a vast progeny against her will only to lose them again, and to long for human children she did not bring forth and could not cherish. the too passionate and the passionless woman are successively warned in the origin and outcome of the myth. [ ] it is a suggestive fact that the descendants of adam should trace their fall not to the independent lilith, who asserted her equality at cost of becoming the devil's bride, but to the apparently submissive eve who stayed inside the garden. the serpent found out the guarded and restrained woman as well as the free and defiant, and with much more formidable results. for craft is the only weapon of the weak against the strong. the submissiveness of the captive woman must have been for a long time outward only. when adam found himself among thorns and briars he might have questioned whether much had been gained by calling eve his rib, when after all she really was a woman, and prepared to take her intellectual rights from the serpent if denied her in legitimate ways. the question is, indeed, hardly out of date yet when the genius of woman is compelled to act with subtlety and reduced to exert its influence too often by intrigue. it is remarkable that we find something like a similar development to the two wives of adam in hindu mythology also. káli and dúrga have the same origin: the former is represented dancing on the prostrate form of her 'lord and master,' and she becomes the demoness of violence, the mother of the diabolical 'calas' of singhalese demonolatry. dúrga sacrificed herself for her husband's honour, and is now adored. the counterpart of dúrga-worship is the zenana system. in countries where the zenana system has not survived, but some freedom has been gained for woman, it is probable that káli will presently not be thought of as necessarily trampling on man, and lilith not be regarded as the devil's wife because she will not submit to be the slave of man. when man can make him a home and garden which shall not be a prison, and in which knowledge is unforbidden fruit, lilith will not have to seek her liberty by revolution against his society, nor eve hers by intrigue; unfitness for co-operation with the ferocities of nature will leave her a help meet for the rearing of children, and for the recovery and culture of every garden, whether within or without the man who now asserts over woman a lordship unnatural and unjust. chapter x. war in heaven. the 'other'--tiamat, bohu, 'the deep'--ra and apophis--hathors-- bel's combat--revolt in heaven--lilith--myth of the devil at the creation of light. in none of the ancient scriptures do we get back to any theory or explanation of the origin of evil or of the enemies of the gods. in a persian text at persepolis, of darius i., ahriman is called with simplicity 'the other' (aniya), and 'the hater' (duvaisañt, zend thaisat), and that is about as much as we are really told about the devils of any race. their existence is taken for granted. the legends of rebellion in heaven and of angels cast down and transformed to devils may supply an easy explanation to our modern theologians, but when we trace them to their origin we discover that to the ancients they had no such significance. the angels were cast down to pits prepared for them from the foundation of the world, and before it, and when they fell it was into the hands of already existing enemies eager to torment them. nevertheless these accounts of rebellious spirits in heaven are of great importance and merit our careful consideration. it is remarkable that the bible opens with an intimation of the existence of this 'other.' its second verse speaks of a certain 'darkness upon the face of the deep.' the word used here is bohu, which is identified as the assyrian bahu, the queen of hades. in the inscription of shalmaneser the word is used for 'abyss of chaos.' [ ] bahu is otherwise gula, a form of ishtar or allat, 'lady of the house of death,' and an epithet of the same female demon is nin-cigal, 'lady of the mighty earth.' the story of the descent of ishtar into hades, the realm of nin-cigal, has already been told (p. ); in that version ishtar is the same as astarte, the assyrian venus. but like the moon with which she was associated she waned and declined, and the beautiful legend of her descent (like persephone) into hades seems to have found a variant in the myth of bel and the dragon. there she is a sea-monster and is called tiamat (thalatth of berosus),--that is, 'the deep,' over which rests the darkness described in genesis i. . the process by which the moon would share the evil repute of tiamat is obvious. in the babylonian belief the dry land rested upon the abyss of watery chaos from which it was drawn. this underworld ocean was shut in by gates. they were opened when the moon was created to rule the night--therefore prince of darkness. the formation by anu of this moon-god (uru) from tiamat, might even have been suggested by the rising of the tides under his sway. the babylonians represent the moon as having been created before the sun, and he emerged from 'a boiling' in the abyss. 'at the beginning of the month, at the rising of the night, his horns are breaking through to shine on heaven.' [ ] in the one babylonian design, a seal in the british museum, [ ] which seems referable to the legend of the fall of man, the male figure has horns. it may have been that this male moon (uru) was supposed to have been corrupted by some female emanation of tiamat, and to have fallen from a 'ruler of the night' to an ally of the night. this female corrupter, who would correspond to eve, might in this way have become mistress of the moon, and ultimately identified with it. although the cause of the original conflict between the abyss beneath and the heaven above is left by ancient inscriptions and scriptures to imagination, it is not a very strained hypothesis that ancient chaos regarded the upper gods as aggressors on her domain in the work of creation. 'when above,' runs the babylonian legend, 'were not raised the heavens, and below on the earth a plant had not grown ... the chaos (or water) tiamat was the producing mother of the whole of them.' 'the gods had not sprung up, any one of them.' [ ] indeed in the legend of the conflict between bel and the dragon, on the babylonian cylinders, it appears that the god sar addressed her as wife, and said, 'the tribute to thy maternity shall be forced upon them by thy weapons.' [ ] the sun and moon would naturally be drawn into any contest between overworld (with light) and underworld (with darkness). though tiamat is called a dragon, she was pictured by the babylonians only as a monstrous griffin. in the assyrian account of the fight it will be seen that she is called a 'serpent.' the link between the two--griffin and serpent--will be found, i suspect, in typhonic influence on the fable. in a hymn to amen-ra (the sun), copied about fourteenth century b.c. from an earlier composition, as its translator, mr. goodwin, supposes, we have the following:-- the gods rejoice in his goodness who exalts those who are lowly: lord of the boat and barge, they conduct thee through the firmament in peace. thy servants rejoice: beholding the overthrow of the wicked: his limbs pierced with the sword: fire consumes him: his soul and body are annihilated. naka (the serpent) saves his feet: the gods rejoice: the servants of the sun are in peace. the allusion in the second line indicates that this hymn relates to the navigation of ra through hades, and the destruction of apophis. we may read next the accadian tablet (p. ) which speaks of the seven hathors as neither male nor female, and as born in 'the deep.' another accadian tablet, translated by mr. sayce, speaks of these as the 'baleful seven destroyers;' as 'born in the mountain of the sunset;' as being incubi. it is significantly said:--'among the stars of heaven their watch they kept not, in watching was their office.' here is a primæval note of treachery. [ ] we next come to a further phase, represented in a cuneiform tablet, which must be quoted at length:-- days of storm, powers of evil, rebellious spirits, who were born in the lower part of heaven, they were workers of calamity. (the lines giving the names and descriptions of the spirits are here broken.) the third was like a leopard, the fourth was like a snake ... the fifth was like a dog ... the sixth was an enemy to heaven and its king. the seventh was a destructive tempest. these seven are the messengers of anu [ ] their king. from place to place by turns they pass. they are the dark storms in heaven, which into fire unite themselves. they are the destructive tempests, which on a fine day sudden darkness cause. with storms and meteors they rush. their rage ignites the thunderbolts of im. [ ] from the right hand of the thunderer they dart forth. on the horizon of heaven like lightning they ... against high heaven, the dwelling-place of anu the king, they plotted evil, and had none to withstand them. when bel heard this news, he communed secretly with his own heart. then he took counsel with hea the great inventor (or sage) of the gods. and they stationed the moon, the sun, and ishtar to keep guard over the approach to heaven. unto anu, ruler of heaven, they told it. and those three gods, his children, to watch night and day unceasingly he commanded them. when those seven evil spirits rushed upon the base of heaven, and close in front of the moon with fiery weapons advanced, then the noble sun and im the warrior side by side stood firm. but ishtar, with anu the king, entered the exalted dwelling, and hid themselves in the summit of heaven. column ii. those evil spirits, the messengers of anu their king ... they have plotted evil ... from mid-heaven like meteors they have rushed upon the earth. bel, who the noble moon in eclipse saw from heaven, called aloud to paku his messenger: o my messenger paku, carry my words to the deep. [ ] tell my son that the moon in heaven is terribly eclipsed! to hea in the deep repeat this! paku understood the words of his lord. unto hea in the deep swiftly he went. to the lord, the great inventor, the god nukimmut, paku repeated the words of his lord. when hea in the deep heard these words, he bit his lips, and tears bedewed his face. then he sent for his son marduk to help him. go to my son marduk, tell my son that the moon in heaven is terribly eclipsed! that eclipse has been seen in heaven! they are seven, those evil spirits, and death they fear not! they are seven, those evil spirits, who rush like a hurricane, and fall like firebrands on the earth! in front of the bright moon with fiery weapons (they draw nigh); but the noble sun and im the warrior (are withstanding them). [the rest of the legend is lost.] nukimmut is a name of hea which occurs frequently: he was the good genius of the earth, and his son marduk was his incarnation--a herakles or saviour. it will be noted that as yet ishtar is in heaven. the next tablet, which shows the development of the myth, introduces us to the great female dragon tiamat herself, and her destroyer bel. ... and with it his right hand he armed. his naming sword he raised in his hand. he brandished his lightnings before him. a curved scymitar he carried on his body. and he made a sword to destroy the dragon, which turned four ways; so that none could avoid its rapid blows. it turned to the south, to the north, to the east, and to the west. near to his sabre he placed the bow of his father anu. he made a whirling thunderbolt, and a bolt with double flames, impossible to extinguish. and a quadruple bolt, and a septuple bolt, and a ... bolt of crooked fire. he took the thunderbolts which he had made, and there were seven of them, to be shot at the dragon, and he put them into his quiver behind him. then he raised his great sword, whose name was 'lord of the storm.' he mounted his chariot, whose name was 'destroyer of the impious.' he took his place, and lifted the four reins in his hand. [bel now offers to the dragon to decide their quarrel by single combat, which the dragon accepts. this agrees with the representations of the combat on babylonian cylinders in mr. smith's 'chaldean genesis,' p. , etc.] (why seekest thou thus) to irritate me with blasphemies? let thy army withdraw: let thy chiefs stand aside: then i and thou (alone) we will do battle. when the dragon heard this. stand back! she said, and repeated her command. then the tempter rose watchfully on high. turning and twisting, she shifted her standing point, she watched his lightnings, she provided for retreat. the warrior angels sheathed their swords. then the dragon attacked the just prince of the gods. strongly they joined in the trial of battle, the king drew his sword, and dealt rapid blows, then he took his whirling thunderbolt, and looked well behind and before him: and when the dragon opened her mouth to swallow him, he flung the bolt into her, before she could shut her lips. the blazing lightning poured into her inside. he pulled out her heart; her mouth he rent open; he drew his (falchion), and cut open her belly. he cut into her inside and extracted her heart; he took vengeance on her, and destroyed her life. when he knew she was dead he boasted over her. after that the dragon their leader was slain, her troops took to flight: her army was scattered abroad, and the angels her allies, who had come to help her, retreated, grew quiet, and went away. they fled from thence, fearing for their own lives, and saved themselves, flying to places beyond pursuit. he followed them, their weapons he broke up. broken they lay, and in great heaps they were captured. a crowd of followers, full of astonishment, its remains lifted up, and on their shoulders hoisted. and the eleven tribes pouring in after the battle in great multitudes, coming to see, gazed at the monstrous serpent.... in the fragment just quoted we have the 'flaming sword which turned every way' (gen. iii. ). the seven distinct forms of evil are but faintly remembered in the seven thunderbolts taken by bel: they are now all virtually gathered into the one form he combats, and are thus on their way to form the seven-headed dragon of the apocalypse, where michael replaces bel. [ ] 'the angels, her allies who had come to help her,' are surely that 'third part of the stars of heaven' which the apocalyptic dragon's tail drew to the earth in its fall (rev. xii. ). bel's dragon is also called a 'tempter.' at length we reach the brief but clear account of the 'revolt in heaven' found in a cuneiform tablet in the british museum, and translated by mr. fox talbot: [ ]-- the divine being spoke three times, the commencement of a psalm. the god of holy songs, lord of religion and worship seated a thousand singers and musicians: and established a choral band who to his hymn were to respond in multitudes.... with a loud cry of contempt they broke up his holy song spoiling, confusing, confounding his hymn of praise. the god of the bright crown with a wish to summon his adherents sounded a trumpet blast which would wake the dead, which to those rebel angels prohibited return he stopped their service, and sent them to the gods who were his enemies. in their room he created mankind. the first who received life, dwelt along with him. may he give them strength never to neglect his word, following the serpent's voice, whom his hands had made. and may the god of divine speech expel from his five thousand that wicked thousand who in the midst of his heavenly song had shouted evil blasphemies! it will be observed that there were already hostile gods to whom these riotous angels were sent. it is clear that in both the egyptian and assyrian cosmogonies the upper gods had in their employ many ferocious monsters. thus in the book of hades, horus addresses a terrible serpent: 'my kheti, great fire, of which this flame in my eye is the emission, and of which my children guard the folds, open thy mouth, draw wide thy jaws, launch thy flame against the enemies of my father, burn their bodies, consume their souls!' [ ] many such instances could be quoted. in this same book we find a great serpent, saa-set, 'guardian of the earth.' each of the twelve pylons of hades is surmounted by its serpent-guards--except one. what has become of that one? in the last inscription but one, quoted in full, it will be observed (third line from the last) that eleven (angel) tribes came in after bel's battle to inspect the slain dragon. the twelfth had revolted. these, we may suppose, had listened to 'the serpent's voice' mentioned in the last fragment quoted. we have thus distributed through these fragments all the elements which, from egyptian and assyrian sources gathered around the legend of the serpent in eden. the tree of knowledge and that of life are not included, and i have given elsewhere my reasons for believing these to be importations from the ancient aryan legend of the war between the devas and asuras for the immortalising amrita. in the last fragment quoted we have also a notable statement, that mankind were created to fill the places that had been occupied by the fallen angels. it is probable that this notion supplied the basis of a class of legends of which lilith is type. she whose place eve was created to fill was a serpent-woman, and the earliest mention of her is in the exorcism already quoted, found at nineveh. in all probability she is but another form of gula, the fallen istar and queen of hades; in which case her conspiracy with the serpent samaël would be the darkness which was upon the face of bahu, 'the deep,' in the second verse of the bible. the bible opens with the scene of the gods conquering the dragon of darkness with light. there is a rabbinical legend, that when light issued from under the throne of god, the prince of darkness asked the creator wherefore he had brought light into existence? god answered that it was in order that he might be driven back to his abode of darkness. the evil one asked that he might see that; and entering the stream of light, he saw across time and the world, and beheld the face of the messiah. then he fell upon his face and cried, 'this is he who shall lay low in ruin me and all the inhabitants of hell!' what the prince of darkness saw was the vision of a race: beginning with the words (gen. i. , ), 'god said, let there be light; and there was light; and god saw the light that it was good; and god divided between the light and the darkness;' ending with rev. xx. , , 'and i saw an angel come down from heaven having the key of the bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand. and he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil and satan, and bound him a thousand years.' chapter xi. war on earth. the abode of devils--ketef--disorder--talmudic legends--the restless spirit--the fall of lucifer--asteria, hecate, lilith--the dragon's triumph--a gipsy legend--cædmon's poem of the rebellious angels--milton's version--the puritans and prince rupert--bel as ally of the dragon--a 'mystery' in marionettes--european hells. 'rejoice, ye heavens, and ye that dwell in them! woe to the earth and the sea! for the devil is come down to you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.' this passage from the book of revelations is the refrain of many and much earlier scriptures. the assyrian accounts of the war in heaven, given in the preceding chapter, by no means generally support the story that the archdragon was slain by bel. even the one that does describe the chief dragon's death leaves her comrades alive, and the balance of testimony is largely in favour of the theory which prevailed, that the rebellious angels were merely cast out of heaven, and went to swell the ranks of the dark and fearful abode which from the beginning had been peopled by the enemies of the gods. the nature of this abode is described in various passages of the bible, and in many traditions. 'out of the north an evil shall break forth upon all the inhabitants of the land.' so said jeremiah (i. ), in pursuance of nearly universal traditions as to the region of space in which demons and devils had their abode. 'hell is naked before him,' says job (xxvi. ), 'and destruction hath no covering. he stretcheth out the north over the empty place.' according to the hebrew mythology this habitation of demons was a realm of perpetual cold and midnight, which jehovah, in creating the world, purposely left chaotic; so it was prepared for the devil and his angels at the foundation of the world. although this northern hell was a region of disorder, so far as the people of jehovah and the divine domain were concerned, they had among themselves a strong military and aristocratic government. it was disorder perfectly systematised. the anarchical atmosphere of the region is reflected in the abnormal structures ascribed to the many devils with whose traits jewish and arabic folklore is familiar, and which are too numerous to be described here. such a devil, for instance, is bedargon, 'hand-high,' with fifty heads and fifty-six hearts, who cannot strike any one or be struck, instant death ensuing to either party in such an attack. a more dangerous devil is ketef, identified as the 'terror from the chambers' alluded to by jeremiah (xxxii. ), 'bitter pestilence.' his name is said to be from kataf, 'cut and split,' because he divides the course of the day; and those who are interested to compare hebrew and hindu myths may find it interesting to note the coincidences between ketef and ketu, the cut-off tail of ráhu, and source of pestilence. [ ] ketef reigns neither in the dark or day, but between the two; his power over the year is limited to the time between june and july , during which it was considered dangerous to flog children or let them go out after four p.m. ketef is calf-headed, and consists of hide, hair, and eyes; he rolls like a cask; he has a terrible horn, but his chief terror lies in an evil eye fixed in his heart which none can see without instant death. the arch-fiend who reigns over the infernal host has many court fools--probably meteors and comets--who lead men astray. all these devils have their regulations in their own domain, but, as we have said, their laws mean disorder in that part of the universe which belongs to the family of jehovah. in flying about the world they are limited to places which are still chaotic or waste. they haunt such congenial spots as rocks and ruins, and frequent desert, wilderness, dark mountains, and the ruins of human habitations. they can take possession of a wandering star. there is a pretty talmudic legend of a devil having once gone to sleep, when some one, not seeing him of course, set down a cask of wine on his ears. in leaping up the devil broke the cask, and being tried for it, was condemned to repay the damage at a certain period. the period having elapsed before the money was brought, the devil was asked the cause of the delay. he replied that it was very difficult for devils to obtain money, because men were careful to keep it locked or tied up; and 'we have no power,' he said, 'to take from anything bound or sealed up, nor can we take anything that is measured or counted; we are permitted to take only what is free or common.' according to one legend the devils were specially angered, because jehovah, when he created man, gave him dominion over things in the sea (gen. i. ), that being a realm of unrest and tempest which they claimed as belonging to themselves. they were denied control of the life that is in the sea, though permitted a large degree of power over its waters. over the winds their rule was supreme, and it was only by reducing certain demons to slavery that solomon was able to ride in a wind-chariot. out of these several realms of order and disorder in nature were evolved the angels and the devils which were supposed to beset man. the first man is said to have been like an angel. from the instant of his creation there attended him two spirits, whom the rabbins found shadowed out in the sentence, 'jehovah-elohim formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul' (gen. ii. ). this 'breath of life' was a holy spirit, and stood on adam's right; the 'living soul' was a restless spirit on his left, which continually moved up and down. when adam had sinned, this restless spirit became a diabolical spirit, and it has ever acted as mediator between man and the realm of anarchy. it has been mentioned that in the assyrian legends of the revolt in heaven we find no adequate intimation of the motive by which the rebels were actuated. it is said they interrupted the heavenly song, that they brought on an eclipse, that they afflicted human beings with disease; but why they did all this is not stated. the motive of the serpent in tempting eve is not stated in genesis. the theory which cædmon and milton have made so familiar, that the dragons aspired to rival jehovah, and usurp the throne of heaven, must, however, have been already popular in the time of isaiah. in his rhapsody concerning the fall of babylon, he takes his rhetoric from the story of bel and the dragon, and turns a legend, as familiar to every babylonian as that of st. george and the dragon now is to englishmen, into an illustration of their own doom. the invective is directed against the king of babylon, consequently the sex of the devil is changed; but the most remarkable change is in the ascription to lucifer of a clear purpose to rival the most high, and seize the throne of heaven. 'hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming, it stirreth up the (spirits of) the dead, even all the chief ones (great goats) of the earth: it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations (demon-begotten aliens). all these shall say unto thee, art thou also become weak as we? art thou become like unto us? thy splendour is brought down to the underworld, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee. how art thou fallen, o lucifer (daystar), son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground which didst weaken the nations! for thou hast said in thy heart, i will ascend into (the upper) heaven, i will exalt my throne above the stars (archangels) of god: i will sit (reign) also upon the mount of the congregation (the assembly of the enemies of god) in the sides of the north. i will ascend above the heights of the clouds (the thunder-throne of jehovah); i will be like the most high. yet shalt thou be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit.' [ ] in this passage we mark the arena of the combat shifted from heaven to earth. it is not the throne of heaven but that of the world at which the fiends now aim. nay, there is confession in every line of the prophecy that the enemy of jehovah has usurped his throne. hell has prevailed, and lucifer is the prince of this world. the celestial success has not been maintained on earth. this would be the obvious fact to a humiliated, oppressed, heavily-taxed people, who believed themselves the one family on earth sprung from jehovah, and their masters the offspring of demons. this situation gave to the vague traditions of a single combat between bel and the dragon, about an eclipse or a riot, the significance which it retained ever afterward of a mighty conflict on earth between the realms of light and darkness, between which the elohim had set a boundary-line (gen. i. ) in the beginning. a similar situation returned when the jews were under the sway of rome, and then all that had ever been said of babylon was repeated against rome under the name of edom. it recurred in the case of those jews who acknowledged jesus as their messiah: in the pomp and glory of the cæsars they beheld the triumph of the powers of darkness, and the burthen of isaiah against lucifer was raised again in that of the apocalypse against the seven-headed dragon. it is notable how these writers left out of sight the myth of eden so far as it did not belong to their race. isaiah does not say anything even of the serpent. the apocalypse says nothing of the two wonderful trees, and the serpent appears only as a dragon from whom the woman is escaping, by whom she is not at all tempted. the shape of the devil, and the combat with him, have always been determined by dangers and evils that are actual, not such as are archæological. a gipsy near edinburgh gave me his version of the combat between god and satan as follows. 'when god created the universe and all things in it, satan tried to create a rival universe. he managed to match everything pretty well except man. there he failed; and god to punish his pride cast him down to the earth and bound him with a chain. but this chain was so long that satan was able to move over the whole face of the earth!' there had got into this wanderer's head some bit of the babylonian story, and it was mingled with gnostic traditions about ildabaoth; but there was also a quaint suggestion in satan's long chain of the migration of this mythical combat not only round the world, but through the ages. the early followers of christ came before the glories of paganism with the legend that the lowly should inherit the earth. and though they speedily surrendered to the rulers of the world in rome, and made themselves into a christian aristocracy, when they came into northern europe the christians were again brought to confront with an humble system the religion of thrones and warriors. st. gatien celebrating mass in a cavern beside the loire, meant as much weakness in presence of paganism as the huguenots felt twelve centuries later hiding in the like caverns from st. gatien's priestly successors. the burthen of isaiah is heard again, and with realistic intensity, in the seventh century, and in the north, with our patriarchial poet cædmon. the all-powerful had angel-tribes, through might of hand, the holy lord, ten established, in whom he trusted well that they his service would follow, work his will; therefore gave he them wit, and shaped them with his hands, the holy lord. he had placed them so happily, one he had made so powerful, so mighty in his mind's thought, he let him sway over so much, highest after himself in heaven's kingdom. he had made him so fair, so beauteous was his form in heaven, that came to him from the lord of hosts, he was like to the light stars. it was his to work the praise of the lord, it was his to hold dear his joys in heaven, and to thank his lord for the reward that he had bestowed on him in that light; then had he let him long possess it; but he turned it for himself to a worse thing, began to raise war upon him, against the highest ruler of heaven, who sitteth in the holy seat. dear was he to our lord, but it might not be hidden from him that his angel began to be presumptuous, raised himself against his master, sought speech of hate, words of pride towards him, would not serve god, said that his body was light and beauteous, fair and bright of hue: he might not find in his mind that he would god in subjection, his lord, serve: seemed to himself that he a power and force had greater than the holy god could have of adherents. many words spake the angel of presumption: thought, through his own power, how he for himself a stronger seat might make, higher in heaven: said that him his mind impelled, that he west and north would begin to work, would prepare structures: said it to him seemed doubtful that he to god would be a vassal. 'why shall i toil?' said he; 'to me it is no whit needful. to have a superior; i can with my hands as many wonders work; i have great power to form a diviner throne, a higher in heaven. why shall i for his favour serve, bend to him in such vassalage? i may be a god as he stand by me strong associates, who will not fail me in the strife, heroes stern of mood, they have chosen me for chief, renowned warriors! with such may one devise counsel, with such capture his adherents; they are my zealous friends, faithful in their thoughts; i may be their chieftain, sway in this realm: thus to me it seemeth not right that i in aught need cringe to god for any good; i will no longer be his vassal.' when the all-powerful it all had heard, that his angel devised great presumption to raise up against his master, and spake proud words foolishly against his lord, then must he expiate the deed, share the work of war, and for his punishment must have of all deadly ills the greatest. so doth every man who against his lord deviseth to war, with crime against the great ruler. then was the mighty angry; the highest ruler of heaven hurled him from the lofty seat; hate had he gained at his lord, his favour he had lost, incensed with him was the good in his mind, therefore must he seek the gulf of hard hell-torment, for that he had warred with heaven's ruler, he rejected him then from his favour, and cast him into hell, into the deep parts, where he became a devil: the fiend with all his comrades fell then from heaven above, through as long as three nights and days, the angels from heaven into hell; and them all the lord transformed to devils, because they his deed and word would not revere; therefore them in a worse light, under the earth beneath, almighty god had placed triumphless in the swart hell; there they have at even, immeasurably long, each of all the fiends, a renewal of fire; then cometh ere dawn the eastern wind, frost bitter-cold, ever fire or dart; some hard torment they must have, it was wrought for them in punishment, their world was changed: for their sinful course he filled hell with the apostates. whether this spirited description was written by cædmon, and whether it is of his century, are questions unimportant to the present inquiry. the poem represents a mediæval notion which long prevailed, and which characterised the mysteries, that satan and his comrades were humiliated from the highest angelic rank to a hell already prepared and peopled with devils, and were there, and by those devils, severely punished. one of the illuminations of the cædmon manuscript, preserved in the bodleian library, shows satan undergoing his torment (fig. ). he is bound over something like a gridiron, and four devils are torturing him, the largest using a scourge with six prongs. his face manifests great suffering. his form is mainly human, but his bushy tail and animal feet indicate that he has been transformed to a devil similar to those who chastise him. on cædmon's foundation milton built his gorgeous edifice. his satan is an ambitious and very english lord, in whom are reflected the whole aristocracy of england in their hatred and contempt of the holy puritan commonwealth, the church of christ as he deemed it. the ages had brought round a similar situation to that which confronted the jews at babylon, the early christians of rome, and their missionaries among the proud pagan princes of the north. the church had long allied itself with the earlier lucifers of the north, and now represented the proud empire of a satanic aristocracy, and the persecuted nonconformists represented the authority of the king of kings. in the english palace, and in the throne of canterbury, milton saw his beelzebub and his satan. th' infernal serpent; he it was, whose guile, stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived the mother of mankind, what time his pride had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring to set himself in glory above his peers he trusted to have equall'd the most high, if he opposed; and with ambitious aim against the throne and monarchy of god raised impious war in heav'n, and battle proud, with vain attempt. him the almighty power hurl'd headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky, with hideous ruin and combustion, down to bottomless perdition, there to dwell in adamantine chains and penal fire, who durst defy th' omnipotent to arms. [ ] this adaptation of the imagery of isaiah concerning lucifer has in it all the thunder hurled by cromwell against charles. even a puritan poet might not altogether repress admiration for the dash and daring of a prince rupert, to which indeed even his prosaic co-religionists paid the compliment of ascribing to it a diabolical source. [ ] not amid conflicts that raged in ancient syria broke forth such lines as-- better to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n. with rallied arms to try what may be yet regain'd in heav'n, or what more lost in hell. the bel whom milton saw was cromwell, and the dragon that serpent of english oppression which the dictator is trampling on in a well-known engraving of his time. in the history of the reformation the old legend did manifold duty again, as in the picture (fig. ) by luther's friend lucas cranach. it would seem that in the course of time bel and the dragon became sufficiently close allies for their worshippers to feed and defend them both with equal devotion, and for daniel to explode them both in carrying on the fight of his deity against the gods of babylon. this story of bel is apocryphal as to the canon, but highly significant as to the history we are now considering. although the jews maintained their struggle against 'principalities and powers' long after it had been a forlorn hope, and never surrendered, nor made alliance with the dragon, the same cannot be said of those who appropriated their title of 'the chosen of god,' counterfeited their covenant, and travestied their traditions. the alliance of christianity and the dragon has not been nominal, but fearfully real. in fulfilling their mission of 'inheriting the earth,' the 'meek' called around them and pressed into their service agents and weapons more diabolical than any with which the oriental imagination had peopled the abode of devils in the north. at a fair in tours (august ) i saw two exhibitions which were impressive enough in the light they cast through history. one was a shrunken and sufficiently grotesque production by puppets of the mediæval 'mystery' of hell. nearly every old scheme and vision of the underworld was represented in the scene. the three judges sat to hear each case. a devil rang a bell whenever any culprit appeared at the gate. the accused was ushered in by a winged devil--satan, the accuser--who, by the show-woman's lips, stated the charges against each with an eager desire to make him or her out as wicked as possible. a devil with pitchfork received the sentenced, and shoved them down into a furnace. there was an array of brilliant dragons around, but they appeared to have nothing to do beyond enjoying the spectacle. but this exhibition which was styled 'twenty minutes in hell,' was poor and faint beside the neighbouring exhibition of the real hell, in which europe had been tortured for fifteen centuries. some industrious germans had got together in one large room several hundreds of the instruments of torture by which the nations of the west were persuaded to embrace christianity. every limb, sinew, feature, bone, and nerve of the human frame had suggested to christian inventiveness some ingenious device by which it might be tortured. wheels on which to break bones, chairs of anguish, thumbscrews, the iron virgin whose embrace pierced through every vital part; the hunger-mask which renewed for christ's sake the exact torment of tantalus; even the machine which bore the very name of the enemy that was cast down--the dragon's head! by such instrumentalities came those quasi-miraculous 'triumphs of the cross,' of which so much has been said and sung! the most salient phenomenon of christian history is the steady triumph of the dragon. misleader and deceiver to the last, he is quite willing to sprinkle his fork and rack with holy water, to cross himself, to label his caldrons 'divine justice,' to write christ upon his forehead; by so doing he was able to spring his infernal engine on the best nations, and cow the strongest hearts, till from their pallid lips were wrung the 'confessions of faith,' or the last cry of martyred truth. so was he able to assault the pure heavens once more, to quench the stars of human faith and hope, and generate a race of polite, learned, and civilised hypocrites. but the ancient sunbeams are after him: the mandate has again gone forth, 'let there be light,' and the light that now breaks forth is not of that kind which respects the limit of darkness. chapter xii. strife. hebrew god of war--samaël--the father's blessing and curse--esau --edom--jacob and the phantom--the planet mars--tradesman and huntsman--'the devil's dream.' who is this that cometh from edom, in dyed garments from bozrah? this that is glorious in his apparel, travelling in the greatness of his strength? i who promise deliverance, mighty to save. wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments like him that treadeth the wine-vat? i have trodden the wine-press alone; and of the peoples there was none with me: and i will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and i will stain all my raiment. for the day of vengeance is in my heart, and the year of mine avenged is come. and i looked, and there was none to help; and i wondered that there was none to uphold; therefore mine own arm gained me the victory, and mine own fury, it upheld me. and i will tread down the peoples in mine anger, and make them drunk in my wrath, and will bring down their strength to the earth. [ ] this is the picture of the god of war. upon it the comment in emek hammelech is: 'the colour of the godless samaël and of all his princes and lords has the aspect of red fire; and all their emanations are red. samaël is red, also his horse, his sword, his raiment, and the ground beneath him, are red. in the future the holy god shall wear his raiment.' [ ] samaël is leader of the opposition. he is the soul of the fiery planet mars. he is the creator and inspirer of all serpents. azazel, demon of the desert, is his first lord. he was the terrestrial chief around whom the fallen angels gathered, and his great power was acknowledged. all these characters the ancient rabbins found blended in his name. simmé (dazzling), sóme (blinding), semól (the left side), and samhammaveth (deadly poison), were combined in the terrible name of samaël. he ruled over the sinister left. when moses, in war with the amalekites, raised his ten fingers, it was a special invocation to the ten sephiroth, divine emanations, because he knew the power which the amalekites got from samaël might turn his own left hand against israel. [ ] the scapegoat was a sacrifice to him through azazel. samaël is the mythologic expression and embodiment of the history of esau, afterward edom. jacob and esau represented the sheep and the goat, divided in the past and to be sundered for ever. as jacob by covering his flesh with goat-skins obtained his father's blessing due to esau, the israelites wandering through the wilderness (near edom's forbidden domain) seemed to have faith that the offering of a goat would convince his viceroy azazel that they were orthodox edomites. the redness of samaël begins with the red pottage from which esau was called edom. the english version does not give the emphasis with which esau is said to have called for the pottage--"the red! the red!" the characteristics ascribed to esau in the legend are merely a saga built on the local names with which he was associated. 'edom' means red, and 'seir' means hairy. it probably meant the 'shaggy mountains.' [ ] it is interesting to observe the parting of the human and the theological myths in this story. jacob is the third person of a patriarchal trinity,--abraham the heavenly father, isaac the laugher (the sun), and jacob the impostor or supplanter. as the moon supplants the sun, takes hold of his heel, shines with his light, so does jacob supplant his elder brother; and all the deadliness ascribed to the moon, and other third persons of trinities, was inherited by jacob until his name was changed by euphemism. as the impartial sun shines for good and evil, the smile of isaac, the laugher, promised great blessings to both of his sons. the human myth therefore represents both of them gaining great power and wealth, and after a long feud they are reconciled. this feature of the legend we shall consider hereafter. jehovah has another interest to be secured. he had declared that one should serve the other; that they should be cursed who cursed jacob; and he said, 'jacob have i loved, esau have i hated.' jahvistic theology had here something more important than two brothers to harmonise; namely a patriarch's blessing and a god's curse. it was contrary to all orthodoxy that a man whom jehovah hated should possess the blessings of life; it was equally unorthodox that a father's blessing should not carry with it every advantage promised. it had to be recorded that esau became powerful, lived by his sword, and had great possessions. it had also to be recorded that 'edom revolted from under the hand of judah and made a king unto themselves,' and that such independence continued 'unto this day' ( kings viii. , ). there was thus no room for the exhibition of jacob's superiority,--that is of israel's priority over edom,--in this world; nor yet any room to carry out isaac's curse on all who cursed jacob, and the saying: 'jacob have i loved, esau have i hated, and laid his mountains and his heritage waste for the dragons of the wilderness' (mal. i.). answers to such problems as these evolve themselves slowly but inevitably. the agonised cry of the poor girl in browning's poem--'there may be heaven, there must be hell'--marks the direction in which necessity led human speculation many ages before her. a future had to be invented for the working out of the curse on esau, who on earth had to fulfil his father's blessing by enjoying power, wealth, and independence of his brother. in that future his greatness while living was repaid by his relegation to the desert and the rock with the he-goat for his support. esau was believed to have been changed into a terrible hairy devil. [ ] but still there followed him in his phantasmal transformation a ghostly environment of his former power and greatness; the boldest and holiest could not afford to despise or set aside that 'share' which had been allotted him in the legend, and could not be wholly set aside in the invisible world. jacob's share began with a shrewd bargain with his imprudent brother. jacob by his cunning in the breeding of the streaked animals (gen. xxx.), by which he outwitted laban, and other manoeuvres, was really the cause of bringing on the race called after him that repute for extortion, affixed to them in such figures as shylock, which they have found it so hard to live down. in becoming the great barterers of the east, their obstacle was the plunderer sallying forth from the mountain fastnesses or careering over the desert. these were the traditional descendants of esau, who gradually included the ishmaelites as well as the edomites, afterwards merged in the idumeans. but as the tribal distinctions became lost, the ancient hostility survived in the abstract form of this satan of strife--samaël. he came to mean the spirit that stirs up antagonism between those who should be brethren. he finally became, and among the more superstitious jews still is, instigator of the cruel persecutions which have so long pursued their race, and the prejudices against them which survive even in countries to whose wealth, learning, and arts they have largely contributed. in jewish countries edom has long been a name for the power of rome and romanism, somewhat in the same way as the same are called 'babylon' by some christians. jacob, when passing into the wilderness of edom, wrestled with the invisible power of esau, or samaël, and had not been able to prevail except with a lame thigh,--a part which, in every animal, israel thereafter held sacred to the opposing power and abstained from eating. a rabbinical legend represents jacob as having been bitten by a serpent while he was lingering about the boundary of edom, and before his gift of goats and other cattle had been offered to his brother. the fiery serpents which afflicted israel were universally attributed to samaël, and the raising of the brazen serpent for the homage of the people was an instance of the uniform deference to esau's power in his own domain which was long inculcated. as i write, fiery mars, near enough for the astronomer to detect its moons, is a wondrous phenomenon in the sky. beneath it fearful famine is desolating three vast countries, war is raging between two powerful nations, and civil strife is smiting another ere it has fairly recovered from the wounds of a foreign struggle. the dismal conditions seem to have so little root in political necessity that one might almost be pardoned even now for dreaming that some subtle influence has come among men from the red planet that has approached the earth. how easy then must it have been in a similar conjunction of earthly and celestial phenomena to have imagined samaël, the planetary spectre, to be at work with his fatal fires! whatever may have been the occasion, the red light of mars at an early period fixed upon that planet the odium of all the burning, blighting, desert-producing powers of which it was thought necessary to relieve the adorable sun. it was believed that all 'born under' that planet were quarrelsome. and it was part of the popular jewish belief in the ultimate triumph of good over evil that under mars the messias was to be born. we may regard esau-samaël then as the devil of strife. his traditional son cain was like himself a 'murderer from the beginning;' [ ] but in that early period the conflict was between the nomad and the huntsman on one side, on the other the agriculturist and the cattle-breeder, who was never regarded as a noble figure among the semitic tribes. in the course of time some semitic tribes became agriculturists, and among them, in defiance of his archæological character, samaël was saddled with the evils that beset them. as an ox he brought rinderpest. but his visible appearance was still more generally that of the raven, the wild ass, the hog which brought scurvy; while in shape of a dog he was so generally believed to bring deadly disease, that it would seem as if 'hydrophobia' was specially attributed to him. in process of time benignant peace dwelt more and more with the agriculturists, but still among the israelites the tradesman was the 'coming man,' and to him peace was essential. the huntsman, of the esau clan, figures in many legends, of which the following is translated from the arabic by lane:--there was a huntsman who from a mountain cave brought some honey in his water-skin, which he offered to an oilman; when the oilman opened the skin a drop of honey fell which a bird ate; the oilman's cat sprang on the bird and killed it; the huntsman's hound killed the cat; the oilman killed the dog; the huntsman killed the oilman; and as the two men belonged to different villages, their inhabitants rose against each other in battle, 'and there died of them a great multitude, the number of whom none knoweth but god, whose name be exalted!' [ ] esau's character as a wild huntsman is referred to in another chapter. it is as the genius of strife and nomadic war that he more directly stands in contrast with his 'supplanter.' from the wild elemental demons of storm and tempest of the most primitive age to this devil of strife, the human mind has associated evil with unrest. 'the wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest.' such is the burthen of the japanese oni throned in the heart of the hurricane, of the wild huntsman issuing forth at the first note of war, of edom hating the victories of peace, living by the sword. the prophecy that the prince of peace should be born under the planet mars is a strange and mystical suggestion. in a powerful poem by thomas aird, 'the devil's dream,' the last fearful doom of satan's vision is imprisonment beneath a lake for ever still,--the spirit of unrest condemned for ever to the realm of absolute stillness! there all is solemn idleness: no music here, no jars, where silence guards the coast, e'er thrill her everlasting bars. no sun here shines on wanton isles; but o'er the burning sheet a rim of restless halo shakes, which marks the internal heat; as, in the days of beauteous earth, we see with dazzled sight the red and setting sun o'erflow with rings of welling light. oh! here in dread abeyance lurks of uncreated things the last lake of god's wrath, where he his first great enemy brings. deep in the bosom of the gulf the fiend was made to stay, till, as it seemed, ten thousand years had o'er him rolled away; in dreams he had extended life to bear the fiery space; but all was passive, dull, and stern within his dwelling-place. oh! for a blast of tenfold ire to rouse the giant surge, him from that flat fixed lethargy impetuously to urge! let him but rise, but ride upon the tempest-crested wave of fire enridged tumultuously, each angry thing he'd brave! the strokes of wrath, thick let them fall! a speed so glorious dread would bear him through, the clinging pains would strip from off his head. the vision of this last stern lake, oh! how it plagued his soul, type of that dull eternity that on him soon must roll, when plans and issues all must cease that earlier care beguiled, and never era more shall stand a landmark on the wild: nor failure nor success is there, nor busy hope nor fame, but passive fixed endurance, all eternal and the same. chapter xiii. barbaric aristocracy. jacob, the 'impostor'--the barterer--esau, the 'warrior'--barbarian dukes--trade and war--reconciliation of jacob and esau--their ghosts--legend of iblis--pagan warriors of europe--russian hierarchy of hell. in the preceding chapter it was noted that there were two myths wrapped up in the story of jacob and esau,--the one theological, the other human. the former was there treated, the latter may be considered here. rabbinical theology has made the jewish race adopt as their founder that tricky patriarch whom shylock adopted as his model; but any censure on them for that comes with little grace from christians who believe that they are still enjoying a covenant which jacob's extortions and treacheries were the divinely-adopted means of confirming. it is high time that the jewish people should repudiate jacob's proceedings, and if they do not give him his first name ('impostor') back again, at least withdraw from him the name israel. but it is still more important for mankind to study the phases of their civilisation, and not attribute to any particular race the spirit of a legend which represents an epoch of social development throughout the world. when rebekah asked jehovah why her unborn babes struggled in her womb, he answered, 'two nations are in thy womb. one people shall be stronger than the other people; the elder shall be subject to the younger.' what peoples these were is described in the blessings of jacob on the two representatives when they had grown up to be, the one red and hairy, a huntsman; the other a quiet man, dwelling in tents and builder of cattle-booths. jacob--cunning, extortionate, fraudulent in spirit even when technically fair--is not a pleasing figure in the eyes of the nineteenth century. but he does not belong to the nineteenth century. his contest was with esau. the very names of them belong to mythology; they are not individual men; they are conflicting tendencies and interests of a primitive period. they must be thought of as israel and edom historically; morally, as the barter principle and the bandit principle. high things begin low. astronomy began as astrology; and when trade began there must have been even more trickery about it than there is now. conceive of a world made up of nomadic tribes engaged in perpetual warfare. it is a commerce of killing. if a tribe desires the richer soil or larger possessions of another, the method is to exterminate that other. but at last there rises a tribe either too weak or too peaceful to exterminate, and it proposes to barter. it challenges its neighbours to a contest of wits. they try to get the advantage of each other in bargains; they haggle and cheat; and it is not heroic at all, but it is the beginning of commerce and peace. but the dukes of edom as they are called will not enter into this compact. they have not been used to it; they are always outwitted at a bargain; just like those other red men in the west of america, whose lands are bought with beads, and their territorial birthright taken for a mess of pottage. they prefer to live by the hunt and by the sword. then between these two peoples is an eternal feud, with an occasional truce, or, in biblical phrase, 'reconciliation.' surrounded by a commercial civilisation, with its prosaic virtues and its petty vices, we cannot help admiring much about the duke of edom, non-producer though he be. brave, impulsive, quick to forgive as to resent; generous, as people can afford to be when they may give what they never earned; his gallant qualities cast a certain meanness over his grasping brother, the israelite. it is a healthy sign in youth to admire such qualities. the boy who delights in robin hood; the youth who feels a stir of enthusiasm when he reads schiller's robbers; the ennuyés of the clubs and the roughs, with unfulfilled capacities for adventure in them, who admire 'the gallant turk,' are all lingering in the nomadic age. they do not think of things but of persons. they are impressed by the barbaric dash. the splendour of warriors hides trampled and decimated peasantries; their courage can gild atrocities. beside such captivating qualities and thrilling scenes how poor and commonplace appear thrifty rusticity, and the cautious, selfish, money-making tradesmen! but fine and heroic as the duke of edom may appear in the distance, it is best to keep him at a distance. when robin hood reappeared on blackheath lately, his warmest admirers were satisfied to hear he was securely lodged in gaol. the jews had just the same sensations about the dukes of edom. they saw that tribe near to, and lived in daily dread of them. they were hirsute barbarians, dwelling amid mountain fastnesses, and lording it over a vast territory. the weak tribe of the plains had no sooner got together some herds and a little money, than those dashing edomites fell upon them and carried away their savings and substance in a day. this made the bartering tribe all the more dependent on their cunning. they had to match their wits against, the world; and they have had to do the same to this day, when it is a chief element of their survival that their thrift is of importance to the business and finance of europe. but in the myth it is shown that trade, timorous as it is in presence of the sword, may have a magnanimity of its own. the supplanter of edom is haunted by the wrong he has done his elder brother, and driven him to greater animosity. he resolves to seek him, offer him gifts, and crave reconciliation. it is easy to put an unfavourable construction upon his action, but it is not necessary. the supplanter, with droves of cattle, a large portion of his possessions, passes out towards perilous edom, unarmed, undefended, except by his amicable intentions towards the powerful chieftain he had wronged. at the border of the hostile kingdom he learns that the chieftain is coming to meet him with four hundred men. he is now seized, with a mighty spirit of fear. he sends on the herdsmen with the herds, and remains alone. during the watches of the night there closes upon him this phantom of fear, with its presage of death. the tricky tradesman has met his conscience, and it is girt about with terror. but he feels that his nobler self is with it, and that he will win. finely has charles wesley told the story in his hymn:-- come, o thou traveller unknown, whom still i hold but cannot see! my company before is gone and i am left alone with thee: with thee all night i mean to stay and wrestle till the break of day. 'confident in self-despair,' the supplanter conquers his fear; with the dawn he travels onward alone to meet the man he had outraged and his armed men, and to him says, 'i have appeared before thee as though i had appeared before god, that thou mightest be favourable to me.' the proud duke is disarmed. the brothers embrace and weep together. the chieftain declines the presents, and is only induced to accept them as proof of his forgiveness. the tradesman learns for all time that his mere cleverness may bring a demon to his side in the night, and that he never made so good a bargain as when he has restored ill-gotten gains. the aristocrat and warrior returns to his mountain, aware now that magnanimity and courage are not impossible to quiet men living by merchandise. the hunting-ground must make way now for the cattle-breeder. the sword must yield before the balances. whatever may have been the tribes which in primitive times had these encounters, and taught each other this lesson, they were long since reconciled. but the ghosts of israel and edom, of barter and plunder, fought on through long tribal histories. israel represented by the archangel michael, and edom by dragon samaël, waged their war. one characteristic of the opposing power has been already considered. samaël embodied edom as the genius of strife. he was the especial accuser of israel, their antichrist, so to say, as michael was their advocate. but the name 'edom' itself was retained as a kind of personification of the barbaric military and lordly devil. the highwayman in epaulettes, the heroic spoiler, with his hairy hand which israel itself had imitated many a time in its gloves, were summed up as 'edom.' this personification is the more important since it has characterised the more serious idea of satan which prevails in the world. he is mainly a moral conception, and means the pride and pomp of the world, its natural wildness and ferocities, and the glory of them. the mussulman fable relates that when allah created man, and placed him in a garden, he called all the angels to worship this crowning work of his hands. iblis alone refused to worship adam. the very idea of a garden is hateful to the spirit of nomadism. [ ] man the gardener receives no reverence from the proud leader of the seraphim. god said unto him (iblis), what hindered thee from worshipping adam, since i commanded thee? he answered, i am more excellent than he: thou hast created me of (ethereal) fire, and hast created him of clay (black mud). god said, get thee down therefore from paradise, for it is not fit that thou behave thyself proudly therein. [ ] the earnestness and self-devotion of the northern pagans in their resistance to christianity impressed the finest minds in the church profoundly. some of the fathers even quoted the enthusiasm of those whom they regarded as devotees of the devil, to shame the apathy of christians. the church could show no martyr braver than rand, down whose throat st. olaf made a viper creep, which gnawed through his side; and rand was an example of thousands. this gave many of the early christians of the north a very serious view of the realm of satan, and of satan himself as a great potentate. it was increased by their discovery that the pagan kings--satan's subjects--had moral codes and law-courts, and energetically maintained justice. in this way there grew up a more dignified idea of hell. the grotesque imps receded before the array of majestic devils, like satan and beelzebub; and these were invested with a certain grandeur and barbaric pride. they were regarded as rival monarchs who had refused to submit themselves to jehovah, but they were deemed worthy of heroic treatment. the traces of this sentiment found in the ancient frescoes of russia are of especial importance. nothing can exceed the grandeur of the hierarchy of hell as they appear in some of these superb pictures. satan is generally depicted with similar dignity to the king of heaven, from whom he is divided by a wall's depth, sometimes even resembling him in all but complexion and hair (which is fire on satan). there are frequent instances, as in the accompanying figure ( ), where, in careful correspondence with the attitude of christ on the father's knees, satan supports the betrayer of christ. beside the king of hell, seated in its mouth, are personages of distinction, some probably representing those poets and sages of greece and rome, the prospect of whose damnation filled some of the first christian fathers with such delight. in spain, when a bishop is about to baptize one of the european dukes of the devil, he asks at the font what has become of his ancestors, naming them--all heathen. 'they are all in hell!' replies the bishop. 'then there will i follow them,' returns the chief, and thereafter by no persuasion can he be induced to fare otherwise than to hell. gradually the church made up its mind to ally itself with this obstinate barbaric pride and ambition. it was willing to give up anything whatever for a kingdom of this world, and to worship any number of princes of darkness, if they would give unto the bishops such kingdoms, and the glory of them. they induced esau to be baptized by promise of their aid in his oppressions, and free indulgences to all his passions; and then, by his help, they were able to lay before weaker esaus the christian alternatives--be baptized or burnt! not to have known how to conquer in bloodless victories the barbaric esaus of the world by a virtue more pure, a heroism more patient, than theirs, and with that 'sweet reasonableness of christ,' which is the latest epitaph on his tomb among the rich; not to have recognised the true nobility of the dukes, and purified their pride to self-reverence, their passion to moral courage, their daring and freedom to a self-reliance at once gentle and manly; this was no doubt the necessary failure of a dogmatic and irrational system. but it is this which has made the christian israel more of an impostor than its prototype, in every country to which it came steadily developing to a hypocritical imitator of the esau whose birthright it stole by baptism. it speedily lost his magnanimity, but never his sword, which however it contrived to make at once meaner and more cruel by twisting it into thumbscrews and the like. for many centuries its voice has been, in a thin phonographic way, the voice of jesus, but the hands are the hands of esau with samaël's claw added. chapter xiv. job and the divider. hebrew polytheism--problem of evil--job's disbelief in a future life--the divider's realm--salted sacrifices--theory of orthodoxy--job's reasoning--his humour--impartiality of fortune between the evil and good--agnosticism of job--elihu's eclecticism--jehovah of the whirlwind--heresies of job--rabbinical legend of job--universality of the legend. israel is a flourishing vine, which bringeth forth fruit to itself; according to the increase of his fruit he hath multiplied his altars; according to the goodness of his land he hath made goodly images. their heart is divided: now shall they be found guilty; he will break down their altars, he will spoil their images. these words of the prophet hosea (x. , ) foreshadow the devil which the devout jahvist saw growing steadily to enormous strength through all the history of israel. the germ of this enemy may be found in our chapter on fate; one of its earliest developments is indicated in the account already given of the partition between jacob and esau, and the superstition to which that led of a ghostly antagonist, to whom a share had been irreversibly pledged. from the principle thus adopted, there grew a host of demons whom it was believed necessary to propitiate by offering them their share. a divided universe had for its counterpart a divided loyalty in the heart of the people. the growth of a belief in the supremacy of one god was far from being a real monotheism; as a matter of fact no primitive race has been monotheistic. in kings xvii. it is stated as a belief of the jews that some assyrians who had been imported into their territory (samaria) were slain by lions because they knew not 'the manner of the god of the land.' spinoza noticed the indications given in this and other narratives that the jews believed that gods whose worship was intolerable within their own boundaries were yet adapted to other regions (tractatus, ii.). with this state of mind it is not wonderful that when the jews found themselves in those alien regions they apprehended that the gods of those countries might also employ lions on such as knew not their manner, but adhered to the worship of jehovah too exclusively. among the jews grew up a more spiritual class of minds, whose feeling towards the mongrel worship around them was that of abhorrence; but these had a very difficult cause to maintain. the popular superstitions were firmly rooted in the fact that terrible evils afflicted mankind, and in the further fact that these did not spare the most pious. nay, it had for a long time been a growing belief that the bounties and afflictions of nature, instead of following the direction promised by the patriarchs,--rewarding the pious, punishing the wicked,--were distributed in a reverse way. dives and lazarus seemed to have their respective lots before any future paradise was devised for their equalisation--as indeed is natural, since dives attends to his business, while lazarus is investing his powers in abraham's bosom. out of this experience there came at last the demand for a life beyond the grave, without whose redress the pious began to deem themselves of all men the most miserable. but before this heavenly future became a matter of common belief, there were theories which prepared, the way for it. it was held by the devout that the evils which afflicted the righteous were jehovah's tests of their loyalty to him, and that in the end such trials would be repaid. and when observation, following the theory, showed that they were not so repaid, it was said the righteousness had been unreal, the devotee was punished for hidden wickedness. when continued observation had proved that this theory too was false, and that piety was not paid in external bounties, either to the good man or his family, the solution of a future settlement was arrived at. this simple process may be traced in various races, and in its several phases. the most impressive presentation of the experiences under which the primitive secular theory of rewards and punishments perished, and that of an adjustment beyond the grave arose, is found in the book of job. the solution here reached--a future reward in this life--is an impossible one for anything more than an exceptional case. but the book of job displays how beautiful such an instance would be, showing afflictions to be temporary and destined to be followed by compensations largely outweighing them. it was a tremendous statement of the question--if a man die, shall he live again? jehovah answered, 'yes' out of the whirlwind, and raised job out of the dust. but for the millions who never rose from the dust that voice was heard announcing their resurrection from a trial that pressed them even into the grave. it is remarkable that job's expression of faith that his vindicator would appear on earth, should have become the one text of the old testament which has been adapted by christians to express faith in immortality. job strongly disowns that faith. there is hope for a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its tender branches will not fail; though its root may have grown old in the earth, and though its trunk be dead upon the ground, at the scent of water it will bud, and put forth boughs, like a young plant. but man dieth and is gone for ever! yet i know that my vindicator liveth, and will stand up at length on the earth; and though with my skin this body be wasted away, yet in my flesh shall i see god. yea, i shall see him my friend; my eyes shall behold him no longer an adversary; for this my soul panteth within me. [ ] the scenery and details of this drama are such as must have made an impression upon the mind of the ancient jews beyond what is now possible for any existing people. in the first place, the locality was the land of uz, which jeremiah (lam. iv. ) points out as part of edom, the territory traditionally ruled over by the great invisible accuser of israel, who had succeeded to the portion of esau, adversary of their founder, jacob. job was within the perilous bounds. and yet here, where scape-goats were offered to deprecate samaël, and where in ordinary sacrifices some item entered for the devil's share, job refused to pay any honour to the power of the place. he offered burnt-offerings alone for himself and his sons, these being exclusively given to jehovah. [ ] even after his children and his possessions were destroyed by this great adversary, job offered his sacrifice without even omitting the salt, which was the oriental seal of an inviolable compact between two, and which so especially recalled and consecrated the covenant with jehovah. [ ] among his twenty thousand animals, azazel's animal, the goat, is not even named. job's distinction was an absolute and unprecedented singleness of loyalty to jehovah. this loyalty of a disciple even in the enemy's country is made the subject of a sort of boast by jehovah when the accuser enters. postponing for the moment consideration of the character and office of this satan, we may observe here that the trial which he challenges is merely a test of the sincerity of job's allegiance to jehovah. the accuser claims that it is all given for value received. these possessions are taken away. this is but the framework around the philosophical poem in which all theories of the world are personified in grand council. first of all job (the troubled) asks--why? orthodoxy answers. (eliphaz was the son of esau (samaël), and his name here means that he was the accuser in disguise. he, 'god's strength,' stands for the law. it affirms that god's ways are just, and consequently afflictions imply previous sin.) eliphaz repeats the question put by the accuser in heaven--'was not thy fear of god thy hope?' and he brings job to the test of prayer, in which he has so long trusted. eliphaz rests on revelation; he has had a vision; and if his revelation be not true, he challenges job to disprove it by calling on god to answer him, or else securing the advocacy of some one of the heavenly host. eliphaz says trouble does not spring out of the dust. job's reply is to man and god--point out the error! grant my troubles are divine arrows, what have i done to thee, o watcher of men! am i a sea-monster--and we imagine job looking at his wasted limbs--that the almighty must take precautions and send spies against me? then follows bildad the shuhite,--that is the 'contentious,' one of the descendants of keturah (abraham's concubine), traditionally supposed to be inimical to the legitimate abrahamic line, and at a later period identified as the turks. bildad, with invective rather than argument, charges that job's children had been slain for their sins, and otherwise makes a personal application of eliphaz's theology. job declares that since god is so perfect, no man by such standard could be proved just; that if he could prove himself just, the argument would be settled by the stronger party in his own favour; and therefore, liberated from all temptation to justify himself, he affirms that the innocent and the guilty are dealt with much in the same way. if it is a trial of strength between god and himself, he yields. if it is a matter of reasoning, let the terrors be withdrawn, and he will then be able to answer calmly. for the present, even if he were righteous, he dare not lift up his head to so assert, while the rod is upon him. zophar 'the impudent' speaks. here too, probably, is a disguise: he is (says the lxx.) king of the minæans, that is the nomades, and his designation 'the naamathite,' of unknown significance, bears a suspicious resemblance to naamah, a mythologic wife of samaël and mother of several devils. zophar is cynical. he laughs at job for even suggesting the notion of an argument between himself and god, whose wisdom and ways are unsearchable. he (god) sees man's iniquity even when it looks as if he did not. he is deeper than hell. what can a man do but pray and acknowledge his sinfulness? but job, even in his extremity, is healthy-hearted enough to laugh too. he tells his three 'comforters' that no doubt wisdom will die with them. nevertheless, he has heard similar remarks before, and he is not prepared to renounce his conscience and common-sense on such grounds. and now, indeed, job rises to a higher strain. he has made up his mind that after what has come upon him, he cares not if more be added, and challenges the universe to name his offence. so long as his transgression is 'sealed up in a bag,' he has a right to consider it an invention. [ ] temanite orthodoxy is shocked at all this. eliphaz declares that job's assertion that innocent and guilty suffer alike makes the fear of god a vain thing, and discourages prayer. 'with us are the aged and hoary-headed.' (job is a neologist.) eliphaz paints human nature in calvinistic colours. behold, (god) putteth no trust in his ministering spirits, and the heavens are not pure in his sight; much less abominable and polluted man, who drinketh iniquity as water! the wise have related, and they got it from the fathers to whom the land was given, and among whom no stranger was allowed to bring his strange doctrines, that affliction is the sign and punishment of wickedness. job merely says he has heard enough of this, and finds no wise man among them. he acknowledges that such reproaches add to his sorrows. he would rather contend with god than with them, if he could. but he sees a slight indication of divine favour in the remarkable unwisdom of his revilers, and their failure to prove their point. bildad draws a picture of what he considers would be the proper environment of a wicked man, and it closely resembles the situation of job. but job reminds him that he, bildad, is not god. it is god that has brought him so low, but god has been satisfied with his flesh. he has not yet uttered any complaint as to his conduct; and so he, job, believes that his vindicator will yet appear to confront his accusers--the men who are so glib when his afflictor is silent. [ ] zophar harps on the old string. pretty much as some preachers go on endlessly with their pictures of the terrors which haunted the deathbeds of voltaire and paine, all the more because none are present to relate the facts. zophar recounts how men who seemed good, but were not, were overtaken by asps and vipers and fires from heaven. but job, on the other hand, has a curious catalogue of examples in which the notoriously wicked have lived in wealth and gaiety. and if it be said god pays such off in their children, job denies the justice of that. it is the offender, and not his child, who ought to feel it. the prosperous and the bitter in soul alike lie down in the dust at last, the good and the evil; and job is quite content to admit that he does not understand it. one thing he does understand: 'your explanations are false.' but eliphaz insists on job having a dogma. if the orthodox dogma is not true, put something in its place! why are you afflicted? what is, your theory? is it because god was afraid of your greatness? it must be as we say, and you have been defrauding and injuring people in secret. job, having repeated his ardent desire to meet god face to face as to his innocence, says he can only conclude that what befalls him and others is what is 'appointed' for them. his terror indeed arises from that: the good and the evil seem to be distributed without reference to human conduct. how darkness conspires with the assassin! if god were only a man, things might be different; but as it is, 'what he desireth that he doeth,' and 'who can turn him?' bildad falls back on his dogma of depravity. man is a 'worm,' a 'reptile.' job finds that for a worm bildad is very familiar with the divine secrets. if man is morally so weak he should be lowly in mind also. god by his spirit hath garnished the heavens; his hand formed the 'crooked serpent'-- lo! these are but the borders of his works; how faint the whisper we have heard of him! but the thunder of his power who can understand? job takes up the position of the agnostic, and the three 'comforters' are silenced. the argument has ended where it had to end. job then proceeds with sublime eloquence. a man may lose all outward things, but no man or god can make him utter a lie, or take from him his integrity, or his consciousness of it. friends may reproach him, but he can see that his own heart does not. that one superiority to the wicked he can preserve. in reviewing his arguments job is careful to say that he does not maintain that good and evil men are on an equality. for one thing, when the wicked man is in trouble he cannot find resource in his innocence. 'can he delight himself in the almighty?' when such die, their widows do not bewail them. men do not befriend oppressors when they come to want. men hiss them. and with guilt in their heart they feel their sorrows to be the arrows of god, sent in anger. in all the realms of nature, therefore, amid its powers, splendours, and precious things, man cannot find the wisdom which raises him above misfortune, but only in his inward loyalty to the highest, and freedom from moral evil. then enters a fifth character, elihu, whose plan is to mediate between the old dogma and the new agnostic philosophy. he is orthodoxy rationalised. elihu's name is suggestive of his ambiguity; it seems to mean one whose 'god is he' and he comes from the tribe of buz, whose hebrew meaning might almost be represented in that english word which, with an added z, would best convey the windiness of his remarks. buz was the son of milkah, the moon, and his descendant so came fairly by his theologic 'moonshine' of the kind which carlyle has so well described in his account of coleridgean casuistry. elihu means to be fair to both sides! elihu sees some truth in both sides! eclectic elihu! job is perfectly right in thinking he had not done anything to merit his sufferings, but he did not know what snares were around him, and how he might have done something wicked but for his affliction. moreover, god ruins people now and then just to show how he can lift them up again. job ought to have taken this for granted, and then to have expressed it in the old abject phraseology, saying, 'i have received chastisement; i will offend no more! what i see not, teach thou me!' (a truly elihuic or 'contemptible' answer to job's sensible words, 'why is light given to a man whose way is hid?' why administer the rod which enlightens as to the anger but not its cause, or as to the way of amend?) in fact the casuistic elihu casts no light whatever on the situation. he simply overwhelms him with metaphors and generalities about the divine justice and mercy, meant to hide this new and dangerous solution which job had discovered--namely, that the old dogmatic theories of evil were proved false by experience, and that a good man amid sorrow should admit his ignorance, but never allow terror to wring from him the voice of guilt, nor the attempt to propitiate divine wrath. when jehovah appears on the scene, answering job out of the whirlwind, the tone is one of wrath, but the whole utterance is merely an amplification of what job had said--what we see and suffer are but fringes of a whole we cannot understand. the magnificence and wonder of the universe celebrated in that voice of the whirlwind had to be given the lame and impotent conclusion of job 'abhorring himself,' and 'repenting in dust and ashes.' the conventional cerberus must have his sop. but none the less does the great heart of this poem reveal the soul that was not shaken or divided in prosperity or adversity. the burnt-offering of his prosperous days, symbol of a worship which refused to include the supposed powers of mischief, was enjoined on job's comforters. they must bend to him as nearer god than they. and in his high philosophy job found what is symbolised in the three daughters born to him: jemima (the dove, the voice of the returning spring); kezia (cassia, the sweet incense); kerenhappuch (the horn of beautiful colour, or decoration). from the jewish point of view this triumph of job represented a tremendous heresy. the idea that afflictions could befall a man without any reference to his conduct, and consequently not to be influenced by the normal rites and sacrifices, is one fatal to a priesthood. if evil may be referred in one case to what is going on far away among gods in obscurities of the universe, and to some purpose beyond the ken of all sages, it may so be referred in all cases, and though burnt-offerings may be resorted to formally, they must cease when their powerlessness is proved. hence the rabbins have taken the side of job's comforters. they invented a legend that job had been a great magician in egypt, and was one of those whose sorceries so long prevented the escape of israel. he was converted afterwards, but it is hinted that his early wickedness required the retribution he suffered. his name was to them the troubler troubled. heretical also was the theory that man could get along without any angelolatry or demon-worship. job in his singleness of service, fearing god alone, defying the seraphim and cherubim from samaël down to do their worst, was a perilous figure. the priests got no part of any burnt-offering. the sin-offering was of almost sumptuary importance. hence the rabbinical theory, already noticed, that it was through neglect of these expiations to the god of sin that the morally spotless job came under the power of his plagues. but for precisely the same reasons the story of job became representative to the more spiritual class of minds of a genuine as contrasted with a nominal monotheism, and the piety of the pure, the undivided heart. its meaning is so human that it is not necessary to discuss the question of its connection with the story of harischandra, or whether its accent was caught from or by the legends of zoroaster and of buddha, who passed unscathed through the ordeals of ahriman and mara. it was repeated in the encounters of the infant christ with herod, and of the adult christ with satan. it was repeated in the unswerving loyalty of the patient griselda to her husband. it is indeed the heroic theme of many races and ages, and it everywhere points to a period when the virtues of endurance and patience rose up to match the agonies which fear and weakness had tried to propitiate,--when man first learned to suffer and be strong. chapter xv. satan. public prosecutors--satan as accuser--english devil-worshipper --conversion by terror--satan in the old testament--the trial of joshua--sender of plagues--satan and serpent--portrait of satan--scapegoat of christendom--catholic 'sight of hell'-- the ally of priesthoods. there is nothing about the satan of the book of job to indicate him as a diabolical character. he appears as a respectable and powerful personage among the sons of god who present themselves before jehovah, and his office is that of a public prosecutor. he goes to and fro in the earth attending to his duties. he has received certificates of character from a. schultens, herder, eichorn, dathe, ilgen, who proposed a new word for satan in the prologue of job, which would make him a faithful but too suspicious servant of god. such indeed he was deemed originally; but it is easy to see how the degradation of such a figure must have begun. there is often a clamour in england for the creation of public prosecutors; yet no doubt there is good ground for the hesitation which its judicial heads feel in advising such a step. the experience of countries in which prosecuting attorneys exist is not such as to prove the institution one of unmixed advantage. it is not in human nature for an official person not to make the most of the duty intrusted to him, and the tendency is to raise the interest he specially represents above that of justice itself. a defeated prosecutor feels a certain stigma upon his reputation as much as a defeated advocate, and it is doubtful whether it be safe that the fame of any man should be in the least identified with personal success where justice is trying to strike a true balance. the recent performances of certain attorneys in england and america retained by societies for the suppression of vice strikingly illustrate the dangers here alluded to. the necessity that such salaried social detectives should perpetually parade before the community as purifiers of society induces them to get up unreal cases where real ones cannot be easily discovered. thus they become accusers, and from this it is an easy step to become slanderers; nor is it a very difficult one which may make them instigators of the vices they profess to suppress. the first representations of satan show him holding in his hand the scales; but the latter show him trying slyly with hand or foot to press down that side of the balance in which the evil deeds of a soul are being weighed against the good. we need not try to track archæologically this declension of a prosecutor, by increasing ardour in his office, through the stages of accuser, adversary, executioner, and at last rival of the legitimate rule, and tempter of its subjects. the process is simple and familiar. i have before me a little twopenny book, [ ] which is said to have a vast circulation, where one may trace the whole mental evolution of satan. the ancient devil-worshipper who has reappeared with such power in england tells us that he was the reputed son of a farmer, who had to support a wife and eleven children on from s. to s. per week, and who sent him for a short time to school. 'my schoolmistress reproved me for something wrong, telling me that god almighty took notice of children's sins. this stuck to my conscience a great while; and who this god almighty could be i could not conjecture; and how he could know my sins without asking my mother i could not conceive. at that time there was a person named godfrey, an exciseman, in the town, a man of a stern and hard-favoured countenance, whom i took notice of for having a stick covered with figures, and an ink-bottle hanging at the button-hole of his coat. i imagined that man to be employed by god almighty to take notice and keep an account of children's sins; and once i got into the market-house and watched him very narrowly, and found that he was always in a hurry, by his walking so fast; and i thought he had need to hurry, as he must have a deal to do to find out all the sins of children!' this terror caused the little huntington to say his prayers. 'punishment for sin i found was to be inflicted after death, therefore i hated the churchyard, and would travel any distance round rather than drag my guilty conscience over that enchanted spot.' the child is father to the man. when huntington, s.s., grew up, it was to record for the thousands who listened to him as a prophet his many encounters with the devil. the satan he believes in is an exact counterpart of the stern, hard-favoured exciseman whom he had regarded as god's employé. on one occasion he writes, 'satan began to tempt me violently that there was no god, but i reasoned against the belief of that from my own experience of his dreadful wrath, saying, how can i credit this suggestion, when (god's) wrath is already revealed in my heart, and every curse in his book levelled at my head.' (that seems his only evidence of god's existence--his wrath!) 'the devil answered that the bible was false, and only wrote by cunning men to puzzle and deceive people. 'there is no god,' said the adversary, 'nor is the bible true.' ... i asked, 'who, then, made the world?' he replied, 'i did, and i made men too.' satan, perceiving my rationality almost gone, followed me up with another temptation; that as there was no god i must come back to his work again, else when he had brought me to hell he would punish me more than all the rest. i cried out, 'oh, what will become of me! what will become of me!' he answered that there was no escape but by praying to him; and that he would show me some lenity when he took me to hell. i went and sat in my tool-house halting between two opinions; whether i should petition satan, or whether i should keep praying to god, until i could ascertain the consequences. while i was thinking of bending my knees to such a cursed being as satan, an uncommon fear of god sprung up in my heart to keep me from it.' in other words, mr. huntington wavered between the petitions 'good lord! good devil!' the question whether it were more moral, more holy, to worship the one than the other did not occur to him. he only considers which is the strongest--which could do him the most mischief--which, therefore, to fear the most; and when satan has almost convinced him in his own favour, he changes round to god. why? not because of any superior goodness on god's part. he says, 'an uncommon fear of god sprung up in my heart.' the greater terror won the day; that is to say, of two demons he yielded to the stronger. such an experience, though that of one living in our own time, represents a phase in the development of the relation between god and satan which would have appeared primitive to an assyrian two thousand years ago. the ethical antagonism of the two was then much more clearly felt. but this bit of contemporary superstition may bring before us the period when satan, from having been a nemesis or retributive agent of the divine law, had become a mere personal rival of his superior. satan, among the jews, was at first a generic term for an adversary lying in wait. it is probably the furtive suggestion at the root of this hebrew word which aided in its selection as the name for the invisible adverse powers when they were especially distinguished. but originally no special personage, much less any antagonist of jehovah, was signified by the word. thus we read: 'and god's anger was kindled because he (balaam) went; and the angel of the lord stood in the way for a satan against him.... and the ass saw the angel of the lord standing in the way and his sword drawn in his hand.' [ ] the eyes of balaam are presently opened, and the angel says, 'i went out to be a satan to thee because the way is perverse before me.' the philistines fear to take david with them to battle lest he should prove a satan to them, that is, an underhand enemy or traitor. [ ] david called those who wished to put shimei to death satans; [ ] but in this case the epithet would have been more applicable to himself for affecting to protect the honest man for whose murder he treacherously provided. [ ] that it was popularly used for adversary as distinct from evil appears in solomon's words, 'there is neither satan nor evil occurrent.' [ ] yet it is in connection with solomon that we may note the entrance of some of the materials for the mythology which afterwards invested the name of satan. it is said that, in anger at his idolatries, 'the lord stirred up a satan unto solomon, hadad the edomite: he was of the king's seed in edom.' [ ] hadad, 'the sharp,' bore a name next to that of esau himself for the redness of his wrath, and, as we have seen in a former chapter, edom was to the jews the land of 'bogeys.' 'another satan,' whom the lord 'stirred up,' was the devastator, prince rezon, founder of the kingdom of damascus, of whom it is said, 'he was a satan to israel all the days of solomon.' [ ] the human characteristics of supposed 'scourges of god' easily pass away. the name that becomes traditionally associated with calamities whose agents were 'stirred up' by the almighty is not allowed the glory of its desolations. the word 'satan,' twice used in this chapter concerning solomon's fall, probably gained here a long step towards distinct personification as an eminent national enemy, though there is no intimation of a power daring to oppose the will of jehovah. nor, indeed, is there any such intimation anywhere in the 'canonical' books of the old testament. the writer of psalm cix., imprecating for his adversaries, says: 'set thou a wicked man over him; and let satan stand at his right hand. when he shall be judged, let him be condemned; and let his prayer become sin.' in this there is an indication of a special satan, but he is supposed to be an agent of jehovah. in the catalogue of the curses invoked of the lord, we find the evils which were afterwards supposed to proceed only from satan. the only instance in the old testament in which there is even a faint suggestion of hostility towards satan on the part of jehovah is in zechariah. here we find the following remarkable words: 'and he showed me joshua the high priest standing before the angel of jehovah, and the satan standing at his right hand to oppose him. and jehovah said unto satan, jehovah rebuke thee, o satan; even jehovah, that hath chosen jerusalem, rebuke thee: is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? now joshua was clothed with filthy garments, and stood before the angel. and he answered and spake to those that stood before him, saying, take away the filthy garments from him. and to him he said, lo, i have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and i will clothe thee with goodly raiment.' [ ] here we have a very fair study and sketch of that judicial trial of the soul for which mainly the dogma of a resurrection after death was invented. the doctrine of future rewards and punishments is not one which a priesthood would invent or care for, so long as they possessed unrestricted power to administer such in this life. it is when an alien power steps in to supersede the priesthood--the gallio too indifferent whether ceremonial laws are carried out to permit the full application of terrestrial cruelties--that the priest requires a tribunal beyond the grave to execute his sentence. in this picture of zechariah we have this invisible celestial court. the angel of judgment is in his seat. the angel of accusation is present to prosecute. a poor filthy wretch appears for trial. what advocate can he command? where is michael, the special advocate of israel? he does not recognise one of his clients in this poor joshua in his rags. but lo! suddenly jehovah himself appears; reproves his own commissioned accuser; declares joshua a brand plucked from the burning (tophet); orders a change of raiment, and, condoning his offences, takes him into his own service. but in all this there is nothing to show general antagonism between jehovah and satan, but the reverse. when we look into the book of job we find a satan sufficiently different from any and all of those mentioned under that name in other parts of the old testament to justify the belief that he has been mainly adapted from the traditions of other regions. the plagues and afflictions which in psalm cix. are invoked from jehovah, even while satan is mentioned as near, are in the book of job ascribed to satan himself. jehovah only permits satan to inflict them with a proviso against total destruction. satan is here named as a personality in a way not known elsewhere in the old testament, unless it be in chron. xxi. , where satan (the article being in this single case absent) is said to have 'stood up against israel, and provoked david to number israel.' but in this case the uniformity of the passage with the others (excepting those in job) is preserved by the same incident being recorded in sam. xxiv. , 'the anger of jehovah was kindled against israel, and he (jehovah) moved david against them to say, go number israel and judah.' it is clear that, in the old testament, it is in the book of job alone that we find satan as the powerful prince of an empire which is distinct from that of jehovah,--an empire of tempest, plague, and fire,--though he presents himself before jehovah, and awaits permission to exert his power on a loyal subject of jehovah. the formality of a trial, so dear to the semitic heart, is omitted in this case. and these circumstances confirm the many other facts which prove this drama to be largely of non-semitic origin. it is tolerably clear that the drama of harischandra in india and that of job were both developed from the sanskrit legends mentioned in our chapter on viswámitra; and it is certain that aryan and semitic elements are both represented in the figure of satan as he has passed into the theology of christendom. nor indeed has satan since his importation into jewish literature in this new aspect, much as the rabbins have made of him, ever been assigned the same character among that people that has been assigned him in christendom. he has never replaced samaël as their archfiend. rabbins have, indeed, in later times associated him with the serpent which seduced eve in eden; but the absence of any important reference to that story in the new testament is significant of the slight place it had in the jewish mind long after the belief in satan had become popular. in fact, that essentially aryan myth little accorded with the ideas of strife and immorality which the jews had gradually associated with samaël. in the narrative, as it stands in genesis, it is by no means the serpent that makes the worst appearance. it is jehovah, whose word--that death shall follow on the day the apple is eaten--is falsified by the result; and while the serpent is seen telling the truth, and guiding man to knowledge, jehovah is represented as animated by jealousy or even fear of man's attainments. all of which is natural enough in an extremely primitive myth of a combat between rival gods, but by no means possesses the moral accent of the time and conditions amid which jahvism certainly originated. it is in the same unmoral plane as the contest of the devas and asuras for the amrita, in hindu mythology, a contest of physical force and wits. the real development of satan among the jews was from an accusing to an opposing spirit, then to an agent of punishment--a hated executioner. the fact that the figure here given (fig. ) was identified by one so familiar with semitic demonology as calmet as a representation of him, is extremely interesting. it was found among representations of cherubim, and on the back of one somewhat like it is a formula of invocation against demons. the countenance is of that severe beauty which the greeks ascribed to nemesis. nemesis has at her feet the wheel and rudder, symbols of her power to overtake the evil-doer by land or sea; the feet of this figure are winged for pursuit. he has four hands. in one he bears the lamp which, like lucifer, brings light on the deed of darkness. as to others, he answers baruch's description (ep. , ) of the babylonian god, 'he hath a sceptre in his hand like a man, like a judge of the kingdom--he hath in his hand a sword and an axe.' he bears nicely-graduated implements of punishment, from the lash that scourges to the axe that slays; and his retributive powers are supplemented by the scorpion tail. at his knees are signets; whomsoever he seals are sealed. he has the terrible eyes which were believed able to read on every forehead a catalogue of sins invisible to mortals, a power that made women careful of their veils, and gave meaning to the formula 'get thee behind me!' [ ] now this figure, which calmet believed to be satan, bears on its reverse, 'the everlasting sun.' he is a god made up of egyptian and magian forms, the head-plumes belonging to the one, the multiplied wings to the other. matter (hist. crit. de gnost.) reproduces it, and says that 'it differs so much from all else of the kind as to prove it the work of an impostor.' but professor c. w. king has a (probably fifth century) gem in his collection evidently a rude copy of this (reproduced in his 'gnostics,' pl. xi. ), on the back of which is 'light of lights;' and, in a note which i have from him, he says that it sufficiently proves matter wrong, and that this form was primitive. in one gem of professor king's (pl. v. ) the lamp is also carried, and means the 'light of lights.' the inscription beneath, within a coiled serpent, is in corrupt cuneiform characters, long preserved by the magi, though without understanding them. there is little doubt, therefore, that the instinct of calmet was right, and that we have here an early form of the detective and retributive magian deity ultimately degraded to an accusing spirit, or satan. although the jews did not identify satan with their scapegoat, yet he has been veritably the scapegoat among devils for two thousand years. all the nightmares and phantasms that ever haunted the human imagination have been packed upon him unto this day, when it is almost as common to hear his name in india and china as in europe and america. in thus passing round the world, he has caught the varying features of many fossilised demons: he has been horned, hoofed, reptilian, quadrupedal, anthropoid, anthropomorphic, beautiful, ugly, male, female; the whites painted him black, and the blacks, with more reason, painted him white. thus has satan been made a miracle of incongruities. yet through all these protean shapes there has persisted the original characteristic mentioned. he is prosecutor and executioner under the divine government, though his office has been debased by that mental confusion which, in the east, abhors the burner of corpses, and, in the west, regards the public hangman with contempt; the abhorrence, in the case of satan, being intensified by the supposition of an overfondness for his work, carried to the extent of instigating the offences which will bring him victims. in a well-known english roman catholic book [ ] of recent times, there is this account of st. francis' visit to hell in company with the angel gabriel:--'st. francis saw that, on the other side of (a certain) soul, there was another devil to mock at and reproach it. he said, remember where you are, and where you will be for ever; how short the sin was, how long the punishment. it is your own fault; when you committed that mortal sin you knew how you would be punished. what a good bargain you made to take the pains of eternity in exchange for the sin of a day, an hour, a moment. you cry now for your sin, but your crying comes too late. you liked bad company; you will find bad company enough here. your father was a drunkard, look at him there drinking red-hot fire. you were too idle to go to mass on sundays; be as idle as you like now, for there is no mass to go to. you disobeyed your father, but you dare not disobey him who is your father in hell.' this devil speaks as one carrying out the divine decrees. he preaches. he utters from his chasuble of flame the sermons of father furniss. and, no doubt, wherever belief in satan is theological, this is pretty much the form which he assumes before the mind (or what such believers would call their mind, albeit really the mind of some syrian dead these two thousand years). but the satan popularly personalised was man's effort to imagine an enthusiasm of inhumanity. he is the necessary appendage to a personalised omnipotence, whose thoughts are not as man's thoughts, but claim to coerce these. his degradation reflects the heartlessness and the ingenuity of torture which must always represent personal government with its catalogue of fictitious crimes. offences against mere majesty, against iniquities framed in law, must be doubly punished, the thing to be secured being doubly weak. under any theocratic government law and punishment would become the types of diabolism. satan thus has a twofold significance. he reports what powerful priesthoods found to be the obstacles to their authority; and he reports the character of the priestly despotisms which aimed to obstruct human development. chapter xvi. religious despotism. pharaoh and herod--zoroaster's mother--ahriman's emissaries--kansa and krishna--emissaries of kansa--astyages and cyrus--zohák--bel and the christian. the jews had already, when christ appeared, formed the theory that the hardening of pharaoh's heart, and his resistance to the departure of israel from egypt, were due to diabolical sorcery. the belief afterwards matured; that edom (esau or samaël) was the instigator of roman aggression was steadily forming. the mental conditions were therefore favourable to the growth of a belief in the jewish followers of christ that the hostility to the religious movement of their time was another effort on the part of samaël to crush the kingdom of god. herod was not, indeed, called satan or samaël, nor was pharaoh; but the splendour and grandeur of this idumean (the realm of esau), notwithstanding his oppressions and crimes, had made him a fair representative to the people of the supernatural power they dreaded. under these circumstances it was a powerful appeal to the sympathies of the jewish people to invent in connection with herod a myth exactly similar to that associated with pharaoh,--namely, a conspiracy with sorcerers, and consequent massacre of all new-born children. the myths which tell of divine babes supernaturally saved from royal hostility are veritable myths, even where they occur so late in time that historic names and places are given; for, of course, it is impossible that by any natural means either pharaoh or herod should be aware of the peculiar nature of any particular infant born in their dominions. such traditions, when thus presented in historical guise, can only be explained by reference to corresponding fables written out in simpler mythic form; while it is especially necessary to remember that such corresponding narratives may be of independent ethnical origin, and that the later in time may be more primitive spiritually. in the legend of zoroaster [ ] his mother dogdo, previous to his birth, has a dream in which she sees a black cloud, which, like the wing of some vast bird, hides the sun, and brings on frightful darkness. this cloud rains down on her house terrible beasts with sharp teeth,--tigers, lions, wolves, rhinoceroses, serpents. one monster especially attacks her with great fury, and her unborn babe speaks in reassuring terms. a great light rises and the beasts fall. a beautiful youth appears, hurls a book at the devas (devils), and they fly, with exception of three,--a wolf, a lion, and a tiger. these, however, the youth drives away with a luminous horn. he then replaces the holy infant in the womb, and says to the mother: 'fear nothing! the king of heaven protects this infant. the earth waits for him. he is the prophet whom ormuzd sends to his people: his law will fill the world with joy: he will make the lion and the lamb drink in the same place. fear not these ferocious beasts; why should he whom ormuzd preserves fear the enmity of the whole world?' with these words the youth vanished, and dogdo awoke. repairing to an interpreter, she was told that the horn meant the grandeur of ormuzd; the book was the avesta; the three beasts betokened three powerful enemies. zoroaster was born laughing. this prodigy being noised abroad, the magicians became alarmed, and sought to slay the child. one of them raised a sword to strike him, but his arm fell to the ground. the magicians bore the child to the desert, kindled a fire and threw him into it, but his mother afterwards found him sleeping tranquilly and unharmed in the flames. next he was thrown in front of a drove of cows and bulls, but the fiercest of the bulls stood carefully over the child and protected him. the magicians killed all the young of a pack of wolves, and then cast the infant zoroaster to them that they might vent their rage upon him, but the mouths of the wolves were shut. they abandoned the child on a lonely mountain, but two ewes came and suckled him. zoroaster's father respected the ministers of the devas (magi), but his child rebuked him. zoroaster walked on the water (crossing a great river where was no bridge) on his way to mount iran where he was to receive the law. it was then he had the vision of the battle between the two serpent armies,--the white and black adders, the former, from the south, conquering the latter, which had come from the north to destroy him. the legend of the infant krishna is as follows:--the tyrant kansa, having given his sister devaki in marriage to vasudéva, as he was returning from the wedding heard a voice declare, 'the eighth son of devaki is destined to be thy destroyer.' alarmed at this, kansa cast his sister and her husband into a prison with seven iron doors, and whenever a son was born he caused it to be instantly destroyed. when devaki became pregnant the eighth time, brahma and siva, with attending devas, appeared and sang: 'o favoured among women! in thy delivery all nature shall have cause to exult! how ardently we long to behold that face for the sake of which we have coursed round three worlds!' when krishna was born a chorus of celestial spirits saluted him; the room was illumined with supernatural light. while devaki was weeping at the fatal decree of kansa that her son should be destroyed, a voice was heard by vasudéva saying: 'son of yadu, carry this child to gokul, on the other side of the river jumna, to nauda, whose wife has just given birth to a daughter. leave him and bring the girl hither.' at this the seven doors swung open, deep sleep fell on the guards, and vasudéva went forth with the holy infant in his arms. the river jumna was swollen, but the waters, having kissed the feet of krishna, retired on either side, opening a pathway. the great serpent of vishnu held its hood over this new incarnation of its lord. beside sleeping nauda and his wife the daughter was replaced by the son, who was named krishna, the dark. when all this had happened a voice came to kansa saying: 'the boy destined to destroy thee is born, and is now living.' whereupon kansa ordered all the male children in his kingdom to be destroyed. this being ineffectual, the whereabouts of krishna were discovered; but the messenger who was sent to destroy the child beheld its image in the water and adored it. the rakshasas worked in the interest of kansa. one approached the divine child in shape of a monstrous bull whose head he wrung off; and he so burned in the stomach of a crocodile which had swallowed him that the monster cast him from his mouth unharmed. finally, as a youth, krishna, after living some time as a herdsman, attacked the tyrant kansa, tore the crown from his head, and dragged him by his hair a long way; with the curious result that kansa became liberated from the three worlds, such virtue had long thinking about the incarnate one, even in enmity! the divine beings represented in these legends find their complement in the fabulous history of cyrus; and the hostile powers which sought their destruction are represented in demonology by the persian tyrant-devil zohák. the name of astyages, the grandfather of cyrus, has been satisfactorily traced to ashdahák, and ajis daháka, the 'biting snake.' the word thus connects him with vedic ahi and with iranian zohák, the tyrant out of whose shoulders a magician evoked two serpents which adhered to him and became at once his familiars and the arms of his cruelty. as astyages, the last king of media, he had a dream that the offspring of his daughter mandane would reign over asia. he gave her in marriage to cambyses, and when she bore a child (cyrus), committed it to his minister harpagus to be slain. harpagus, however, moved with pity, gave it to a herdsman of astyages, who substituted for it a still-born child, and having so satisfied the tyrant of its death, reared cyrus as his own son. the luminous horn of the zoroastrian legend and the diabolism of zohák are both recalled in the book of daniel (viii.) in the terrific struggle of the ram and the he-goat. the he-goat, ancient symbol of hairy esau, long idealised into the invisible foe of israel, had become associated also with babylon and with nimrod its founder, the semitic zohák. but bel, conqueror of the dragon, was the founder of babylon, and to jewish eyes the dragon was his familiar; to the jews he represented the tyranny and idolatry of nimrod, the two serpents of zohák. when cyrus supplanted astyages, this was the idol he found the babylonians worshipping until daniel destroyed it. and so, it would appear, came about the fact that to the jews the power of christendom came to be represented as the reign of bel. one can hardly wonder at that. if ever there were cruelty and oppression passing beyond the limit of mere human capacities, it has been recorded in the tragical history of jewish sufferings. the disbeliever in præternatural powers of evil can no less than others recognise in this 'bel and the christian,' which the jews substituted for 'bel and the dragon,' the real archfiend--superstition, turning human hearts to stone when to stony gods they sacrifice their own humanity and the welfare of mankind. chapter xvii. the prince of this world. temptations--birth of buddha--mara--temptation of power--asceticism and luxury--mara's menaces--appearance of the buddha's vindicator--ahriman tempts zoroaster--satan and christ--criticism of strauss--jewish traditions--hunger--variants. the devil, having shown jesus all the kingdoms of this world, said, 'all this power will i give thee, and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me, and to whomsoever i will i give it,' the theory thus announced is as a vast formation underlying many religions. as every religion begins as an ideal, it must find itself in antagonism to the world at large; and since the social and political world are themselves, so long as they last, the outcome of nature, it is inevitable that in primitive times the earth should be regarded as a satanic realm, and the divine world pictured elsewhere. a legitimate result of this conclusion is asceticism, and belief in the wickedness of earthly enjoyments. to men of great intellectual powers, generally accompanied as they are with keen susceptibilities of enjoyment and strong sympathies, the renunciation of this world must be as a living burial. to men who, amid the corruptions of the world, feel within them the power to strike in with effect, or who, seeing 'with how little wisdom the world is governed,' are stirred by the sense of power, the struggle against the temptation to lead in the kingdoms of this world is necessarily severe. thus simple is the sense of those temptations which make the almost invariable ordeal of the traditional founders of religions. as in earlier times the god won his spurs, so to say, by conquering some monstrous beast, the saint or saviour must have overcome some potent many-headed world, with gems for scales and double-tongue, coiling round the earth, and thence, like lilith's golden hair, round the heart of all surrendered to its seductions. it is remarkable to note the contrast between the visible and invisible worlds which surrounded the spiritual pilgrimage of sakya muni to buddhahood or enlightenment. at his birth there is no trace of political hostility: the cruel kansa, herod, magicians seeking to destroy, are replaced by the affectionate force of a king trying to retain his son. the universal traditions reach their happy height in the ecstatic gospels of the siamese. [ ] the universe was illumined; all jewels shown with unwonted lustre; the air was full of music; all pain ceased; the blind saw, the deaf heard; the birds paused in their flight; all trees and plants burst into bloom, and lotus flowers appeared in every place. not under the dominion of mara [ ] was this beautiful world. but by turning from all its youth, health, and life, to think only of its decrepitude, illness, and death, the prince sakya muni surrounded himself with another world in which mara had his share of power. i condense here the accounts of his encounters with the prince, who was on his way to be a hermit. when the prince passed out at the palace gates, the king mara, knowing that the youth was passing beyond his evil power, determined to prevent him. descending from his abode and floating in the air, mara cried, 'lord, thou art capable of such vast endurance, go not forth to adopt a religious life, but return to thy kingdom, and in seven days thou shalt become an emperor of the world, ruling over the four great continents.' 'take heed, o mara!' replied the prince; 'i also know that in seven days i might gain universal empire, but i have no desire for such possessions. i know that the pursuit of religion is better than the empire of the world. see how the world is moved, and quakes with praise of this my entry on a religious life! i shall attain the glorious omniscience, and shall teach the wheel of the law, that all teachable beings may free themselves from transmigratory existence. you, thinking only of the lusts of the flesh, would force me to leave all beings to wander without guide into your power. avaunt! get thee away far from me!' mara withdrew, but only to watch for another opportunity. it came when the prince had reduced himself to emaciation and agony by the severest austerities. then mara presented himself, and pretending compassion, said, 'beware, o grand being! your state is pitiable to look on; you are attenuated beyond measure, and your skin, that was of the colour of gold, is dark and discoloured. you are practising this mortification in vain. i can see that you will not live through it. you, who are a grand being, had better give up this course, for be assured you will derive much more advantage from sacrifices of fire and flowers.' him the grand being indignantly answered, 'hearken, thou vile and wicked mara! thy words suit not the time. think not to deceive me, for i heed thee not. thou mayest mislead those who have no understanding, but i, who have virtue, endurance, and intelligence, who know what is good and what is evil, cannot be so misled. thou, o mara! hast eight generals. thy first is delight in the five lusts of the flesh, which are the pleasures of appearance, sound, scent, flavour, and touch. thy second general is wrath, who takes the form of vexation, indignation, and desire to injure. thy third is concupiscence. thy fourth is desire. thy fifth is impudence. thy sixth is arrogance. thy seventh is doubt. and thine eighth is ingratitude. these are thy generals, who cannot be escaped by those whose hearts are set on honour and wealth. but i know that he who can contend with these thy generals shall escape beyond all sorrow, and enjoy the most glorious happiness. therefore i have not ceased to practise mortification, knowing that even were i to die whilst thus engaged, it would be a most excellent thing.' it is added that mara 'fled in confusion,' but the next incident seems to show that his suggestion was not unheeded; for 'after he had departed,' the grand being had his vision of the three-stringed guitar--one string drawn too tightly, the second too loosely, the third moderately--which last, somewhat in defiance of orchestral ideas, alone gave sweet music, and taught him that moderation was better than excess or laxity. by eating enough he gained that pristine strength and beauty which offended the five brahmans so that they left him. the third and final effort of mara immediately preceded the prince's attainment of the order of buddha under the bo-tree. he now sent his three daughters, raka (love), aradi (anger), tanha (desire). beautifully bedecked they approached him, and raka said, 'lord, fearest thou not death?' but he drove her away. the two others also he drove away as they had no charm of sufficient power to entice him. then mara assembled his generals, and said, 'listen, ye maras, that know not sorrow! now shall i make war on the prince, that man without equal. i dare not attack him in face, but i will circumvent him by approaching on the north side. assume then all manner of shapes, and use your mightiest powers, that he may flee in terror.' having taken on fearful shapes, raising awful sounds, headed by mara himself, who had assumed immense size, and mounted his elephant girimaga, a thousand miles in height, they advanced; but they dare not enter beneath the shade of the holy bo-tree. they frightened away, however, the lord's guardian angels, and he was left alone. then seeing the army approaching from the north, he reflected, 'long have i devoted myself to a life of mortification, and now i am alone, without a friend to aid me in this contest. yet may i escape the maras, for the virtue of my transcendent merits will be my army.' 'help me,' he cried, 'ye thirty barami! ye powers of accumulated merit, ye powers of almsgiving, morality, relinquishment, wisdom, fortitude, patience, truth, determination, charity, and equanimity, help me in my fight with mara!' the lord was seated on his jewelled throne (the same that had been formed of the grass on which he sat), and mara with his army exhausted every resource of terror--monstrous beasts, rain of missiles and burning ashes, gales that blew down mountain peaks--to inspire him with fear; but all in vain! nay, the burning ashes were changed to flowers as they fell. 'come down from thy throne,' shouted the evil-formed one; 'come down, or i will cut thine heart into atoms!' the lord replied, 'this jewelled throne was created by the power of my merits, for i am he who will teach all men the remedy for death, who will redeem all beings, and set them free from the sorrows of circling existence.' mara then claimed that the throne belonged to himself, and had been created by his own merits; and on this armed himself with the chakkra, the irresistible weapon of indra, and wheel of the law. yet buddha answered, 'by the thirty virtues of transcendent merits, and the five alms, i have obtained the throne. thou, in saying that this throne was created by thy merits, tellest an untruth, for indeed there is no throne for a sinful, horrible being such as thou art.' then furious mara hurled the chakkra, which clove mountains in its course, but could not pass a canopy of flowers which rose over the lord's head. and now the great being asked mara for the witnesses of his acts of merit by virtue of which he claimed the throne. in response, mara's generals all bore him witness. then mara challenged him, 'tell me now, where is the man that can bear witness for thee?' the lord reflected, 'truly here is no man to bear me witness, but i will call on the earth itself, though it has neither spirit nor understanding, and it shall be my witness.' stretching forth his hand, he thus invoked the earth: 'o holy earth! i who have attained the thirty powers of virtue, and performed the five great alms, each time that i have performed a great act have not failed to pour water on thee. now that i have no other witness, i call upon thee to give thy testimony!' the angel of the earth appeared in shape of a lovely woman, and answered, 'o being more excellent than angels or men! it is true that, when you performed your great works, you ever poured water on my hair.' and with these words she wrung her long hair, and from it issued a stream, a torrent, a flood, in which mara and his hosts were overturned, their insignia destroyed, and king mara put to flight, amid the loud rejoicings of angels. then the evil one and his generals were conquered not only in power but in heart; and mara, raising his thousand arms, paid reverence, saying, 'homage to the lord, who has subdued his body even as a charioteer breaks his horses to his use! the lord will become the omniscient buddha, the teacher of angels, and brahmas, and yakkhas (demons), and men. he will confound all maras, and rescue men from the whirl of transmigration!' the menacing powers depicted as assailing sakya muni appear only around the infancy of zoroaster. the interview of the latter with ahriman hardly amounts to a severe trial, but still the accent of the chief temptation both of buddha and christ is in it, namely, the promise of worldly empire. it was on one of those midnight journeys through heaven and hell that zoroaster saw ahriman, and delivered from his power 'one who had done both good and evil.' [ ] when ahriman met zoroaster's gaze, he cried, 'quit thou the pure law; cast it to the ground; thou wilt then be in the world all that thou canst desire. be not anxious about thy end. at least, do not destroy my subjects, o pure zoroaster, son of poroscharp, who art born of her thou hast borne!' zoroaster answered, 'wicked majesty! it is for thee and thy worshippers that hell is prepared, but by the mercy of god i shall bury your work with shame and ignominy.' in the account of matthew, satan begins his temptation of jesus in the same way and amid similar circumstances to those we find in the siamese legends of buddha. it occurs in a wilderness, and the appeal is to hunger. the temptation of buddha, in which mara promises the empire of the world, is also repeated in the case of satan and jesus (fig. ). the menaces, however, in this case, are relegated to the infancy, and the lustful temptation is absent altogether. mark has an allusion to his being in the wilderness forty days 'with the beasts,' which may mean that satan 'drove' him into a region of danger to inspire fear. in luke we have the remarkable claim of satan that the authority over the world has been delivered to himself, and he gives it to whom he will; which jesus does not deny, as buddha did the similar claim of mara. as in the case of buddha, the temptation of jesus ends his fasting; angels bring him food (diêkonoun aytô probably means that), and thenceforth he eats and drinks, to the scandal of the ascetics. the essential addition in the case of jesus is the notable temptation to try and perform a crucial act. satan quotes an accredited messianic prophecy, and invites jesus to test his claim to be the predicted deliverer by casting himself from the pinnacle of the temple, and testing the promise that angels should protect the true son of god. strauss, [ ] as it appears to me, has not considered the importance of this in connection with the general situation. 'assent,' he says, 'cannot be withheld from the canon that, to be credible, the narrative must ascribe nothing to the devil inconsistent with his established cunning. now, the first temptation, appealing to hunger, we grant, is not ill-conceived; if this were ineffectual, the devil, as an artful tactician, should have had a yet more alluring temptation at hand; but instead of this, we find him, in matthew, proposing to jesus the neck-breaking feat of casting himself down from the pinnacle of the temple--a far less inviting miracle than the metamorphosis of the stones. this proposition finding no acceptance, there follows, as a crowning effort, a suggestion which, whatever might be the bribe, every true israelite would instantly reject with abhorrence--to fall down and worship the devil.' not so! the scapegoat was a perpetual act of worship to the devil. in this story of the temptation of christ there enter some characteristic elements of the temptation of job. [ ] uz in the one case and the wilderness in the other mean morally the same, the region ruled over by azazel. in both cases the trial is under divine direction. and the trial is in both cases to secure a division of worship between the good and evil powers, which was so universal in the east that it was the test of exceptional piety if one did not swerve from an unmixed sacrifice. jesus is apparently abandoned by the god in whom he trusted; he is 'driven' into a wilderness, and there kept with the beasts and without food. the devil alone comes to him; exhibits his own miraculous power by bearing him through the air to his own mount seir, and showing him the whole world in a moment of time; and now says to him, as it were, 'try your god! see if he will even turn stones into bread to save his own son, to whom i offer the kingdoms of the world!' then bearing him into the 'holy hill' of his own god--the pinnacle of the temple--says, 'try now a leap, and see if he saves from being dashed to pieces, even in his own precincts, his so trustful devotee, whom i have borne aloft so safely! which, then, has the greater power to protect, enrich, advance you,--he who has left you out here to starve, so that you dare not trust yourself to him, or i? fall down then and worship me as your god, and all the world is yours! it is the world you are to reign over: rule it in my name! when st. anthony is tempted by the devil in the form of a lean monk, it was easy to see that the hermit was troubled with a vision of his own emaciation. when the devil appears to luther under guise of a holy monk, it is an obvious explanation that he was impressed by a memory of the holy brothers who still remained in the church, and who, while they implored his return, pointed out the strength and influence he had lost by secession. equally simple are the moral elements in the story of christ's temptation. while a member of john's ascetic community, for which 'though he was rich he became poor,' hunger, and such anxiety about a living as victimises many a young thinker now, must have assailed him. later on his devil meets him on the temple, quotes scripture, and warns him that his visionary god will not raise him so high in the church as the prince of this world can. [ ] and finally, when dreams of a larger union, including jews and gentiles, visited him, the power that might be gained by connivance with universal idolatry would be reflected in the offer of the kingdoms of the world in payment for the purity of his aims and singleness of his worship. that these trials of self-truthfulness and fidelity, occurring at various phases of life, would be recognised, is certain. a youth of high position, as christ probably was, [ ] or even one with that great power over the people which all concede, was, in a worldly sense, 'throwing away his prospects;' and this voice, real in its time, would naturally be conventionalised. it would put on the stock costume of devils and angels; and among jewish christians it would naturally be associated with the forty-days' fast of moses (exod. xxxiv. ; deut. ix. ), and that of elias ( kings xix. ), and the forty-years' trial of israel in the wilderness. among greek christians some traces of the legend of herakles in his seclusion as herdsman, or at the cross-roads between vice and virtue, might enter; and it is not impossible that some touches might be added from the oriental myth which invested buddha. however this may be, we may with certainty repair to the common source of all such myths in the higher nature of man, and recognise the power of a pure genius to overcome those temptations to a success unworthy of itself. we may interpret all such legends with a clearness proportioned to the sacrifices we have made for truth and ideal right; and the endless perplexities of commentators and theologians about the impossible outward details of the new testament story are simple confessions that the great spirit so tried is now made to label with his name his own tempter--namely, a church grown powerful and wealthy, which, as the prince of this world, bribes the conscience and tempts away the talent necessary to the progress of mankind. chapter xviii. trial of the great. a 'morality' at tours--the 'st. anthony' of spagnoletto--bunyan's pilgrim--milton on christ's temptation--an edinburgh saint and unitarian fiend--a haunted jewess--conversion by fever--limit of courage--woman and sorcery--luther and the devil--the ink-spot at wartburg--carlyle's interpretation--the cowled devil--carlyle's trial--in rue st. thomas d'enfer--the everlasting no--devil of vauvert--the latter-day conflict--new conditions--the victory of man--the scholar and the world. a representation of the temptation of st. anthony (marionettes), which i witnessed at tours ( ), had several points of significance. it was the mediæval 'morality' as diminished by centuries, and conventionalised among those whom the centuries mould in ways and for ends they know not. amid a scenery of grotesque devils, rudely copied from callot, st. anthony appeared, and was tempted in a way that recalled the old pictures. there was the same fair temptress, in this case the wife of satan, who warns her lord that his ugly devils will be of no avail against anthony, and that the whole affair should be confided to her. she being repelled, the rest of the performance consisted in the devils continually ringing the bell of the hermitage, and finally setting fire to it. this conflagration was the supreme torment of anthony--and, sooth to say, it was a fairly comfortable abode--who utters piteous prayers and is presently comforted by an angel bringing him wreaths of evergreen. the prayers of the saint and the response of the angel were meant to be seriously taken; but their pathos was generally met with pardonable laughter by the crowd in the booth. yet there was a pathos about it all, if only this, that the only temptations thought of for a saint were a sound and quiet house and a mistress. the bell-noise alone remained from the great picture of spagnoletto at siena, where the unsheltered old man raises his deprecating hand against the disturber, but not his eyes from the book he reads. in spagnoletto's picture there are five large books, pen, ink, and hour-glass; but there is neither hermitage to be burnt nor female charms to be resisted. but spagnoletto, even in his time, was beholding the vision of exceptional men in the past, whose hunger and thirst was for knowledge, truth, and culture, and who sought these in solitude. such men have so long left the church familiar to the french peasantry that any representation of their temptations and trials would be out of place among the marionettes. the bells which now disturb them are those that sound from steeples. another picture loomed up before my eyes over the puppet performance at tours, that which for bunyan frescoed the walls of bedford gaol. there, too, the old demons, giants, and devils took on grave and vast forms, and reflected the trials of the great hearts who withstood the popes and pagans, the armed political apollyons and the giant despairs, who could make prisons the hermitages of men born to be saviours of the people. such were the temptations that milton knew; from his own heart came the pigments with which he painted the trial of christ in the wilderness. 'set women in his eye,' said belial:-- women, when nothing else, beguiled the heart of wisest solomon, and made him build, and made him bow to the gods of his wives. to whom quick answer satan thus returned. belial, in much uneven scale thou weigh'st all others by thyself.... but he whom we attempt is wiser far than solomon, of more exalted mind, made and set wholly on the accomplishment of greatest things.... therefore with manlier objects we must try his constancy, with such as have more show of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise; rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wrecked. [ ] the progressive ideas which milton attributed to satan have not failed. that celestial city which bunyan found it so hard to reach has now become a metropolis of wealth and fashion, and the trials which once beset pilgrims toiling towards it are now transferred to those who would pass beyond it to another city, seen from afar, with temples of reason and palaces of justice. the old phantasms have shrunk to puppets. the trials by personal devils are relegated to the regions of insanity and disease. it is everywhere a dance of puppets though on a cerebral stage. a lady well known in edinburgh related to me a terrible experience she had with the devil. she had invited some of her relations to visit her for some days; but these relatives were unitarians, and, after they had gone, having entered the room which they had occupied, she was seized by the devil, thrown on the floor, and her back so strained that she had to keep her bed for some time. this was to her 'the unitarian fiend' of which the wesleyan hymn-book sang so long; but even the wesleyans have now discarded the famous couplet, and there must be few who would not recognise that the old lady at edinburgh merely had a tottering body representing a failing mind. i have just read a book in which a lady in america relates her trial by the devil. this lady, in her girlhood, was of a christian family, but she married a rabbi and was baptized into judaism. after some years of happy life a terrible compunction seized her; she imagined herself lost for ever; she became ill. a christian (baptist) minister and his wife were the evil stars in her case, and with what terrors they surrounded the poor jewess may be gathered from the following extract. 'she then left me--that dear friend left me alone to my god, and to him i carried a lacerated and bleeding heart, and laid it at the foot of the cross, as an atonement for the multiplied sins i had committed, whether of ignorance or wilfulness; and how shall i proceed to portray the heart-felt agonies of that night preceding my deliverance from the shafts of satan? oh! this weight, this load of sin, this burden so intolerable that it crushed me to the earth; for this was a dark hour with me--the darkest; and i lay calm, to all appearance, but with cold perspiration drenching me, nor could i close my eyes; and these words again smote my ear, no redemption, no redemption; and the tempter came, inviting me, with all his blandishment and power, to follow him to his court of pleasure. my eyes were open; i certainly saw him, dressed in the most phantastic shape. this was no illusion; for he soon assumed the appearance of one of the gay throng i had mingled with in former days, and beckoned me to follow. i was awake, and seemed to lie on the brink of a chasm, and spirits were dancing around me, and i made some slight outcry, and those dear girls watching with me came to me, and looked at me. they said i looked at them but could not speak, and they moistened my lips, and said i was nearly gone; then i whispered, and they came and looked at me again, but would not disturb me. it was well they did not; for the power of god was over me, and angels were around me, and whispering spirits near, and i whispered in sweet communion with them, as they surrounded me, and, pointing to the throne of grace, said, 'behold!' and i felt that the glory of god was about to manifest itself; for a shout, as if a choir of angels had tuned their golden harps, burst forth in, 'glory to god on high,' and died away in softest strains of melody. i lifted up my eyes to heaven, and there, so near as to be almost within my reach, the brightest vision of our lord and saviour stood before me, enveloped with a light, ethereal mist, so bright and yet transparent that his divine figure could be seen distinctly, and my eyes were riveted upon him; for this bright vision seemed to touch my bed, standing at the foot, so near, and he stretched forth his left hand toward me, whilst with the right one he pointed to the throne of grace, and a voice came, saying, 'blessed are they who can see god; arise, take up thy cross and follow me; for though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool.' and with my eyes fixed on that bright vision, i saw from the hand stretched toward me great drops of blood, as if from each finger; for his blessed hand was spread open, as if in prayer, and those drops fell distinctly, as if upon the earth; and a misty light encircled me, and a voice again said, 'take up thy cross and follow me; for though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool.' and angels were all around me, and i saw the throne of heaven. and, oh! the sweet calm that stole over my senses. it must have been a foretaste of heavenly bliss. how long i lay after this beautiful vision i know not; but when i opened my eyes it was early dawn, and i felt so happy and well. my young friends pressed around my bedside, to know how i felt, and i said, 'i am well and so happy.' they then said i was whispering with some one in my dreams all night. i told them angels were with me; that i was not asleep, and i had sweet communion with them, and would soon be well.' [ ] that is what the temptation of jesus in the wilderness comes to when dislocated from its time and place, and, with its gathered ages of fable, is imported at last to be an engine of torture sprung on the nerves of a devout woman. this jewess was divorced from her husband by her christianity; her child died a victim to precocious piety; but what were home and affection in ruins compared with salvation from that frightful devil seen in her holy delirium? history shows that it has always required unusual courage for a human being to confront an enemy believed to be præternatural. this jewess would probably have been able to face a tiger for the sake of her husband, but not that fantastic devil. not long ago an english actor was criticised because, in playing hamlet, he cowered with fear on seeing the ghost, all his sinews and joints seeming to give way; but to me he appeared then the perfect type of what mankind have always been when believing themselves in the presence of præternatural powers. the limit of courage in human nature was passed when the foe was one which no earthly power or weapon could reach. in old times, nearly all the sorcerers and witches were women; and it may have been, in some part, because woman had more real courage than man unarmed. sorcery and witchcraft were but the so-called pagan rites in their last degradation, and women were the last to abandon the declining religion, just as they are the last to leave the superstition which has followed it. their sentiment and affection were intertwined with it, and the threats of eternal torture by devils which frightened men from the old faith to the new were less powerful to shake the faith of women. when pagan priests became christians, priestesses remained, to become sorceresses. the new faith had gradually to win the love of the sex too used to martyrdom on earth to fear it much in hell. and now, again, when knowledge clears away the old terrors, and many men are growing indifferent to all religion, because no longer frightened by it, we may expect the churches to be increasingly kept up by women alone, simply because they went into them more by attraction of saintly ideals than fear of diabolical menaces. thomas carlyle has selected luther's boldness in the presence of what he believed the devil to illustrate his valour. 'his defiance of the 'devils' in worms,' says carlyle, 'was not a mere boast, as the like might be if spoken now. it was a faith of luther's that there were devils, spiritual denizens of the pit, continually besetting men. many times, in his writings, this turns up; and a most small sneer has been grounded on it by some. in the room of the wartburg, where he sat translating the bible, they still show you a black spot on the wall; the strange memorial of one of these conflicts. luther sat translating one of the psalms; he was worn down with long labour, with sickness, abstinence from food; there rose before him some hideous indefinable image, which he took for the evil one, to forbid his work; luther started up with fiend-defiance; flung his inkstand at the spectre, and it disappeared! the spot still remains there; a curious monument of several things. any apothecary's apprentice can now tell us what we are to think of this apparition, in a scientific sense; but the man's heart that dare rise defiant, face to face, against hell itself, can give no higher proof of fearlessness. the thing he will quail before exists not on this earth nor under it--fearless enough! 'the devil is aware,' writes he on one occasion, 'that this does not proceed out of fear in me. i have seen and defied innumerable devils. duke george,'--of leipzig, a great enemy of his,--'duke george is not equal to one devil,' far short of a devil! 'if i had business at leipzig, i would ride into leipzig, though it rained duke georges for nine days running.' what a reservoir of dukes to ride into!' [ ] although luther's courage certainly appears in this, it is plain that his devil was much humanised as compared with the fearful phantoms of an earlier time. nobody would ever have tried an inkstand on the gorgons, furies, lucifers of ancient belief. in luther's bible the devil is pictured as a monk--a lean monk, such as he himself was only too likely to become if he continued his rebellion against the church (fig. ). it was against a devil liable to resistance by physical force that he hurled his inkstand, and against whom he also hurled the contents of his inkstand in those words which richter said were half-battles. luther's devil, in fact, represents one of the last phases in the reduction of the evil power from a personified phantom with which no man could cope, to that impersonal but all the more real moral obstruction with which every man can cope--if only with an inkstand. the horned monster with cowl, beads, and cross, is a mere transparency, through which every brave heart may recognise the practical power of wrong around him, the established error, disguised as religion, which is able to tempt and threaten him. the temptations with menace described--those which, coming upon the weak nerves of women, vanquished their reason and heart; that which, in a healthy man, raised valour and power--may be taken as side-lights for a corresponding experience in the life of a great man now living--carlyle himself. it was at a period of youth when, amid the lonely hills of scotland, he wandered out of harmony with the world in which he lived. consecrated by pious parents to the ministry, he had inwardly renounced every dogma of the church. with genius and culture for high work, the world demanded of him low work. friendless, alone, poor, he sat eating his heart, probably with little else to eat. every scotch parson he met unconsciously propounded to that youth the question whether he could convert his heretical stone into bread, or precipitate himself from the pinnacle of the scotch kirk without bruises? then it was he roamed in his mystical wilderness, until he found himself in the gayest capital of the world, which, however, on him had little to bestow but a further sense of loneliness. 'now, when i look back, it was a strange isolation i then lived in. the men and women around me, even speaking with me, were but figures; i had practically forgotten that they were alive, that they were not merely automatic. in the midst of their crowded streets and assemblages, i walked solitary; and (except as it was my own heart, not another's, that i kept devouring) savage also, as is the tiger in his jungle. some comfort it would have been, could i, like a faust, have fancied myself tempted and tormented of a devil; for a hell, as i imagine, without life, though only diabolic life, were more frightful: but in our age of downpulling and disbelief, the very devil has been pulled down--you cannot so much as believe in a devil. to me the universe was all void of life, of purpose, of volition, even of hostility: it was one huge, dead, immeasurable, steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb from limb. oh, the vast gloomy, solitary golgotha, and mill of death! why was the living banished thither, companionless, conscious? why, if there is no devil; nay, unless the devil is your god?' ... 'from suicide a certain aftershine of christianity withheld me.' ... 'so had it lasted, as in bitter, protracted death-agony, through long years. the heart within me, unvisited by any heavenly dewdrop, was smouldering in sulphurous, slow-consuming fire. almost since earliest memory i had shed no tear; or once only when i, murmuring half-audibly, recited faust's deathsong, that wild selig der den er im siegesglanze findet (happy whom he finds in battle's splendour), and thought that of this last friend even i was not forsaken, that destiny itself could not doom me not to die. having no hope, neither had i any definite fear, were it of man or of devil; nay, i often felt as if it might be solacing could the arch-devil himself, though in tartarean terrors, rise to me that i might tell him a little of my mind. and yet, strangely enough, i lived in a continual, indefinite, pining fear; tremulous, pusillanimous, apprehensive of i knew not what; it seemed as if all things in the heavens above and the earth beneath would hurt me; as if the heavens and the earth were but boundless jaws of a devouring monster, wherein i, palpitating, waited to be devoured. 'full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole french capital or suburbs, was i, one sultry dogday, after much perambulation, toiling along the dirty little rue sainte thomas de l'enfer, among civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over pavements hot as nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits were little cheered; when all at once there rose a thought in me, and i asked myself, 'what art thou afraid of? wherefore, like a coward, dost thou for ever pip and whimper, and go cowering and trembling? despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that lies before thee? death? well, death; and say the pangs of tophet too, and all that the devil or man may, will, or can do against thee! hast thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatsoever it be; and, as a child of freedom, though outcast, trample tophet itself under thy feet, while it consumes thee! let it come, then; i will meet it and defy it!' and as i so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole soul; and i shook base fear away from me for ever. i was strong, of unknown strength; a spirit, almost a god. ever from that time the temper of my misery was changed: not fear or whining sorrow was it, but indignation and grim fire-eyed defiance. 'thus had the everlasting no pealed authoritatively through all the recesses of my being, of my me; and then was it that my whole me stood up, in native god-created majesty and with emphasis recorded its protest. such a protest, the most important transaction in life, may that same indignation and defiance, in a psychological point of view, be fitly called. the everlasting no had said, 'behold thou art fatherless, outcast, and the universe is mine (the devil's);' to which my whole me now made answer, 'i am not thine, but free, and for ever hate thee!' 'it is from this hour that i incline to date my spiritual new birth, or baphometic fire-baptism; perhaps i directly thereupon began to be a man.' [ ] perhaps he who so uttered his apage satana did not recognise amid what haunted edom he wrestled with his phantom. saint louis, having invited the carthusian monks to paris, assigned them a habitation in the faubourg saint-jacques, near the ancient chateau of vauvert, a manor built by robert (le diable), but for a long time then uninhabited, because infested by demons, which had, perhaps, been false coiners. fearful howls had been heard there, and spectres seen, dragging chains; and, in particular, it was frequented by a fearful green monster, serpent and man in one, with a long white beard, wielding a huge club, with which he threatened all who passed that way. this demon, in common belief, passed along the road to and from the chateau in a fiery chariot, and twisted the neck of every human being met on his way. he was called the devil of vauvert. the carthusians were not frightened by these stories, but asked louis to give them the manor, which he did, with all its dependencies. after that nothing more was heard of the diable vauvert or his imps. it was but fair to the demons who had assisted the friars in obtaining a valuable property so cheaply that the street should thenceforth bear the name of rue d'enfer, as it does. but the formidable genii of the place haunted it still, and, in the course of time, the carthusians proved that they could use with effect all the terrors which the devils had left behind them. they represented a great money-coining christendom with which free-thinking michaels had to contend, even to the day when, as we have just read, one of the bravest of these there encountered his vauvert devil and laid him low for ever. i well remember that wretched street of st. thomas leading into hell street, as if the parisian authorities, remembering that thomas was a doubter, meant to remind the wayfarer that whoso doubteth is damned. near by is the convent of st. michael, who makes no war on the neighbouring rue dragon. all names--mere idle names! among the thousands that crowd along them, how many pause to note the quaintness of the names on the street-lamps, remaining there from fossil fears and phantom battles long turned to fairy lore. yet amid them, on that sultry day, in one heart, was fought and won a battle which summed up all their sense and value. every hell was conquered then and there when fear was conquered. there, when the lower self was cast down beneath the poised spear of a free mind, st. michael at last chained his dragon. there luther's inkstand was not only hurled, but hit its mark; there, 'get thee behind me,' was said, and obeyed; there buddha brought the archfiend mara to kneel at his feet. and it was by sole might of a man. therefore may this be emphasised as the temptation and triumph which have for us to-day the meaning of all others. a young man of intellectual power, seeing beyond all the conventional errors around him, without means, feeling that ordinary work, however honourable, would for him mean failure of his life--because failure to contribute his larger truth to mankind--he finds the terrible cost of his aim to be hunger, want, a life passed amid suspicion and alienation, without sympathy, lonely, unloved--and, alas! with a probability that all these losses may involve loss of just what they are incurred for, the power to make good his truth. after giving up love and joy, he may, after all, be unable to give living service to his truth, but only a broken body and shed blood. similar trials in outer form have been encountered again and again; not only in the great temptations and triumphs of sacred tradition, but perhaps even more genuinely in the unknown lives of many pious people all over the world, have hunger, want, suffering, been conquered by faith. but rarely amid doubts. rarely in the way of saint thomas, in no fear of hell or devil, nor in any hope of reward in heaven, or on earth; rarely indeed without any feeling of a god taking notice, or belief in angels waiting near, have men or women triumphed utterly over self. all history proves what man can sacrifice on earth for an eternal weight of glory above. we know how cheerfully men and women can sing at the stake, when they feel the fire consuming them to be a chariot bearing them to heaven. we understand the valour of luther marching against his devils with his hymn, 'ein feste burg ist unser gott.' but it is important to know what man's high heart is capable of without any of these encouragements or aids, what man's moral force when he feels himself alone. for this must become an increasingly momentous consideration. already the educated youth of our time have followed the wanderer of threescore years ago into that st. thomas d'enfer street, which may be morally translated as the point where man doubts every hell he does not feel, and every creed he cannot prove. the old fears and hopes are fading faster from the minds around us than from their professions. there must be very few sane people now who are restrained by fear of hell, or promises of future reward. what then controls human passion and selfishness? for many, custom; for others, hereditary good nature and good sense; for some, a sense of honour; for multitudes, the fear of law and penalties. it is very difficult indeed, amid these complex motives, to know how far simple human nature, acting at its best, is capable of heroic endurance for truth, and of pure passion for the right. this cannot be seen in those who intellectually reject the creed of the majority, but conform to its standards and pursue its worldly advantages. it must be seen, if at all, in those who are radically severed from the conventional aims of the world,--who seek not its wealth, nor its honours, decline its proudest titles, defy its authority, share not its prospects for time or eternity. it must be proved by those, the grandeur of whose aims can change the splendours of paris to a wilderness. these may show what man, as man, is capable of, what may be his new birth, and the religion of his simple manhood. what they think, say, and do is not prescribed either by human or supernatural command; in them you do not see what society thinks, or sects believe, or what the populace applaud. you see the individual man building his moral edifice, as genuinely as birds their nests, by law of his own moral constitution. it is a great thing to know what those edifices are, for so at last every man will have to build if he build at all. and if noble lives cannot be so lived, we may be sure the career of the human race will be downhill henceforth. for any unbiassed mind may judge whether the tendency of thought and power lies toward or away from the old hopes and fears on which the regime of the past was founded. a great and wise teacher of our time, who shared with carlyle his lonely pilgrimage, has admonished his generation of the temptations brought by talent,--selfish use of it for ambitious ends on the one hand, or withdrawal into fruitless solitude on the other; and i cannot forbear closing this chapter with his admonition to his young countrymen forty years ago. [ ] 'public and private avarice makes the air we breathe thick and fat. the scholar is decent, indolent, complacent. see already the tragic consequence. the mind of this country, taught to aim at low objects, eats upon itself. there is no work for any but the decorous and the complacent. young men of the fairest promise, who begin life upon our shores, inflated by the mountain winds, shined upon by all the stars of god, find the earth below not in unison with these,--but are hindered from action by the disgust which the principles on which business is managed inspire and turn drudges, or die of disgust,--some of them suicides. what is the remedy? they did not yet see, and thousands of young men as hopeful, now crowding to the barriers for the career, do not yet see, that if the single man plant himself indomitably on his instincts, and there abide, the huge world will come round to him. patience--patience;--with the shades of all the good and great for company; and for solace, the perspective of your own infinite life; and for work, the study and the communication of principles, the making those instincts prevalent, the conversion of the world. is it not the chief disgrace in the world--not to be an unit; not to be reckoned one character; not to yield that peculiar fruit which each man was created to bear,--but to be reckoned in the gross, in the hundred, in the thousand of the party, the section, to which we belong; and our opinion predicted geographically, as the north or the south? not so, brothers and friends,--please god, ours shall not be so. we will walk on our own feet; we will work with our own hands; we will speak our own minds.' chapter xix. the man of sin. hindu myth--gnostic theories--ophite scheme of redemption--rabbinical traditions of primitive man--pauline pessimism--law of death--satan's ownership of man--redemption of the elect--contemporary statements--baptism--exorcism--the 'new man's' food--eucharist--herbert spencer's explanation--primitive ideas--legends of adam and seth--adamites--a mormon 'mystery' of initiation. in a hindu myth, dhrubo, an infant devotee, passed much time in a jungle, surrounded by ferocious beasts, in devotional exercises of such extraordinary merit that vishnu erected a new heaven for him as the reward of his piety. vishnu even left his own happy abode to superintend the construction of this special heaven. in hebrew mythology the favourite son, the chosen people, is called out of egypt to dwell in a new home, a promised land, not in heaven but on earth. the idea common to the two is that of a contrast between a natural and a celestial environment,--a jungle and beasts, bondage and distress; a new heaven, a land flowing with milk and honey,--and the correspondence with these of the elect child, dhrubo or israel. the tendency of christ's mind appears to have been rather in the aryan direction; he pointed his friends to a kingdom not of this world, and to his father's many mansions in heaven. but the hebrew faith in a messianic reign in this world was too strong for his dream; a new earth was appended to the new heaven, and became gradually paramount, but this new earth was represented only by the small society of believers who made the body of christ, the members in which his blood flowed. that great cauldron of confused superstitions and mysticisms which the roman empire became after the overthrow of jerusalem, formed a thick scum which has passed under the vague name of gnosticism. the primitive notions of all races were contained in it, however, and they gathered in the second and third centuries a certain consistency in the system of the ophites. in the beginning existed bythos (the depth); his first emanation and consort is ennoia (thought); their first daughter is pneuma (spirit), their second sophia (wisdom). sophia's emanations are two--one perfect, christos; the other imperfect, sophia-achamoth,--who respectively guide all that proceed from god and all that proceed from matter. sophia, unable to act directly upon anything so gross as matter or unordered as chaos, employs her imperfect daughter sophia-achamoth for that purpose. but she, finding delight in imparting life to inert matter, became ambitious of creating in the abyss a world for herself. to this end she produced the demiurgus ildabaoth (otherwise jehovah) to be creator of the material world. after this sophia-achamoth shook off matter, in which she had become entangled; but ildabaoth ('son of darkness') proceeded to produce emanations corresponding to those of bythos in the upper universe. among his creations was man, but his man was a soulless monster crawling on the ground. sophia-achamoth managed to transfer to man the small ray of divine light which ildabaoth had inherited from her. the 'primitive man' became thus a divine being. ildabaoth, now entirely evil, was enraged at having produced a being who had become superior to himself, and his envy took shape in a serpent-formed satan, ophiomorphos. he is the concentration of all that is most base in matter, conjoined with a spiritual intelligence. their anti-judaism led the ophites to identify ildabaoth as jehovah, and this serpent-son of his as michael; they also called him samaël. ildabaoth then also created the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, with all their evils. resolving to confine man within his own lower domain, he forbade him to eat of the tree of knowledge. to defeat his scheme, which had all been evolved out of her own temporary fall, sophia-achamoth sent her own genius, also in form of a serpent, ophis, to induce man to transgress the tyrant's command. eve supposing ophis the same as ophiomorphos, regarded the prohibition against the fruit as withdrawn and readily ate of it. man thus became capable of understanding heavenly mysteries, and ildabaoth made haste to imprison him in the dungeon of matter. he also punished ophis by making him eat dust, and this heavenly serpent, contaminated by matter, changed from man's friend to his foe. sophia-achamoth has always striven against these two serpents, who bind man to the body by corrupt desires; she supplied mankind with divine light, through which they became sensible of their nakedness--the misery of their condition. ildabaoth's seductive agents gained control over all the offspring of adam except seth, type of the spiritual man. sophia-achamoth moved bythos to send down her perfect brother christos to aid the spiritual race of seth. christos descended through the seven planetary regions, assuming successively forms related to each, and entered into the man jesus at the moment of his baptism. ildabaoth, discovering him, stirred up the jews to put him to death; but christos and sophia, abandoning the material body of jesus on the cross, gave him one made of ether. hence his mother and disciples could not recognise him. he ascended to the middle space, where he sits by the right hand of ildabaoth, though unperceived by the latter, and, putting forth efforts for purification of mankind corresponding to those put forth by ildabaoth for evil, he is collecting all the spiritual elements of the world into the kingdom which is to overthrow that of the enemy. [ ] notwithstanding the animosity shown by the ophites towards the jews, most of the elements in their system are plagiarised from the jews. according to ancient rabbinical traditions, adam and eve, by eating the fruit of the lowest region, fell through the six regions to the seventh and lowest; they were there brought under control of the previously fallen samaël, who defiled them with his spittle. their nakedness consisted in their having lost a natural protection of which only our finger-nails are left; others say they lost a covering of hair. [ ] the jews also from of old contended that seth was the son of adam, in whom returned the divine nature with which man was originally endowed. we have, indeed, only to identify ildabaoth with elohim instead of jehovah to perceive that the ophites were following jewish precedents in attributing the natural world to a fiend. the link between, the two conceptions may be discovered in the writings of paul. paul's pessimistic conception of this world and of human nature was radical, and it mainly formed the mould in which dogmatic christianity subsequently took shape. his general theology is a travesty of the creation of the world and of man. all that work of elohim was, by implication, natural, that is to say, diabolical. the earth as then created belonged to the prince of this world, who was the author of sin, and its consequence, death. in adam all die. the natural man is enmity against god; he is of the earth earthy; his father is the devil; he cannot know spiritual things. all mankind are born spiritually dead. christ is a new and diviner demiurgos, engaged in the work of producing a new creation and a new man. for his purpose the old law, circumcision or uncircumcision, are of no avail or importance, but a new creature. his death is the symbol of man's death to the natural world, his resurrection of man's rising into a new world which mere flesh and blood cannot inherit. as god breathed into adam's nostrils the breath of life, the spirit breathes upon the elect of christ a new mind and new heart. the 'new creature' must inhale an entirely new physical atmosphere. when paul speaks of 'the prince of the power of the air,' it must not be supposed that he is only metaphorical. on this, however, we must dwell for a little. 'the air,' writes burton in his 'anatomy of melancholy,' 'the air is not so full of flies in summer as it is at all times of invisible devils. they counterfeit suns and moons, and sit on ships' masts. they cause whirlwinds of a sudden, and tempestuous storms, which though our meteorologists generally refer to natural causes, yet i am of bodine's mind, they are more often caused by those aerial devils in their several quarters. cardan gives much information concerning them. his father had one of them, an aerial devil, bound to him for eight and twenty years; as agrippa's dog had a devil tied to his collar. some think that paracelsus had one confined in his sword pommel. others wear them in rings;' and so the old man runs on, speculating about the mysterious cobwebs collected in the ceiling of his brain. the atmosphere mentally breathed by burton and his authorities was indeed charged with invisible phantasms; and every one of them was in its origin a genuine intellectual effort to interpret the phenomena of nature. it is not wonderful that the ancients should have ascribed to a diabolical source the subtle deaths that struck at them from the air. a single breath of the invisible poison of the air might lay low the strongest. even after man had come to understand his visible foes, the deadly animal or plant, he could only cower and pray before the lurking power of miasma and infection, the power of the air. the tyndalls of a primitive time studied dust and disease, and called the winged seeds of decay and death 'aerial devils,' and prepared the way for mephistopheles (devil of smells), as he in turn for the bacterial demon of modern science. there were not wanting theologic explanations why these malignant beings should find their dwelling-place in the air. they had been driven out of heaven. the etherial realm above the air was reserved for the good. of the demons the hindus say, 'their feet touch not the ground.' 'what man of virtue is there,' said titus to his soldiers, 'who does not know that those souls which are severed from their fleshy bodies in battles by the sword are received by the æther--that purest of elements--and joined to that company which are placed among the stars; that they become gods, dæmons, and propitious heroes, and show themselves as such to their posterity afterwards?' [ ] malignant spirits were believed to hold a more undisputed sway over the atmosphere than over the earth, although our planet was mainly in their power, and the subjects of the higher empire always a small colony. [ ] moreover, there was a natural tendency of demons, which originally represented earthly evils, when these were conquered by human intelligence, to pass into the realm least accessible to science or to control by man. the uncharted winds became their refuge. this belief was general among the christian fathers, [ ] lasted a very long time even among the educated, and is still the teaching of the roman catholic church, as any one may see by reading the authorised work of mgr. gaume on 'holy water' (p. ). so long as it was admitted among thinking people that the mind was as competent to build facts upon theory as theories on fact, a great deal might be plausibly said for this atmospheric diabolarchy. in the days when witchcraft was first called in question, glanvil argued 'that since this little spot is so thickly peopled in every atome of it, 'tis weakness to think that all the vast spaces above and hollows under ground are desert and uninhabited,' and he anticipated that, as microscopic science might reveal further populations in places seemingly vacant, it would necessitate the belief that the regions of the upper air are inhabited. [ ] other learned men concluded that the spirits that lodge there are such as are clogged with earthly elements; the baser sort; dwelling in cold air, they would like to inhabit the more sheltered earth. in repayment for broth, and various dietetic horrors proffered them by witches, they enable them to pass freely through their realm--the air. out of such intellectual atmosphere came paul's sentence (eph. ii. ) about 'the prince of the power of the air.' it was a spiritualisation of the existing aerial demonology. when paul and his companions carried their religious agitation into the centres of learning and wealth, and brought the teachings of a jew to confront the temples of greece and rome, they found themselves unrelated to that great world. it had another habit of mind and feeling, and the idea grew in him that it was the spirits of the satanic world counteracting the spirit sent on earth from the divine world. this animated its fashions, philosophy, science, and literature. he warns the church at ephesus that they will need the whole armour of god, because they are wrestling not with mere flesh and blood, but against the rulers of the world's darkness, the evil spirits in high places--that is, in the air. as heirs of this new nature and new world, with its new atmosphere, purchased and endowed by christ, the pauline theory further presupposes, that the natural man, having died, is buried with christ in baptism, rises with him, and is then sealed to him by the holy ghost. for a little time such must still bear about them their fleshy bodies, but soon christ shall come, and these vile bodies shall be changed into his likeness; meanwhile they must keep their bodies in subjection, even as paul did, by beating it black and blue (hypôpiazô), and await their deliverance from the body of the dead world they have left, but which so far is permitted to adhere to them. this conception had to work itself out in myths and dogmas of which paul knew nothing. 'if any man come after me and hate not his father and mother, and his own (natural) life also, he cannot be my disciple.' the new race with which the new creation was in travail was logically discovered to need a new mother as well as a new father. every natural mother was subjected to a stain that it might be affirmed that only one mother was immaculate--she whose conception was supernatural, not of the flesh. marriage became an indulgence to sin (whose purchase-money survives still in the marriage-fee). the monastery and the nunnery represented this new ascetic kingdom; that perilous word 'worldliness' was transmitted to be the source of insanity and hypocrisy. happily, the common sense and sentiment of mankind have so steadily and successfully won back the outlawed interests of life and the world, that it requires some research into ecclesiastical archæology to comprehend the original significance of the symbols in which it survives. the ancient rabbins limited the number of souls which hang on adam to , , but the christian theologians extended the figures to include the human race. probably even some orthodox people may be scandalised at the idea of the fathers (irenæus, for example), that, at the fall, the human race became satan's rightful property, did they see it in the picture copied by buslaef, from an ancient russian bible, in possession of count uvarof. adam gives satan a written contract for himself and his descendants (fig. ). and yet, according to a recent statement, the rev. mr. simeon recently preached a sermon in the church of st. augustine, kilburn, london, 'to prove that the ruler of the world is the devil. he stated that the creator of the world had given the control of the world to one of his chief angels, lucifer, who, however, had gone to grief, and done his utmost to ruin the world. since then the creator and lucifer had been continually striving to checkmate each other. as lucifer is still the prince of this world, it would seem that it is not he who has been beaten yet.' [ ] a popular preacher in america, rev. dr. talmage, states the case as follows:-- 'i turn to the same old book, and i find out that the son of mary, who was the son of god, the darling of heaven, the champion of the ages, by some called lord, by some called jesus, by others called christ, but this morning by us called by the three blessed titles, lord jesus christ, by one magnificent stroke made it possible for us all to be saved. he not only told us that there was a hell, but he went into it. he walked down the fiery steeps. he stepped off the bottom rung of the long ladder of despair. he descended into hell. he put his bare foot on the hottest coal of the fiercest furnace. 'he explored the darkest den of eternal midnight, and then he came forth lacerated and scarified, and bleeding and mauled by the hands of infernal excruciation, to cry out to all the ages, 'i have paid the price for all those who would make me their substitute. by my piled-up groans, by my omnipotent agony, i demand the rescue of all those who will give up sin and trust in me,' mercy! mercy! mercy! but how am i to get it? cheap. it will not cost you as much as a loaf of bread. only a penny? no, no. escape from hell, and all the harps, and mansions, and thrones, and sunlit fields of heaven besides in the bargain, 'without money, and without price.'' these preachers are only stating with creditable candour the original significance of the sacraments and ceremonies which were the physiognomy of that theory of 'a new creature.' following various ancient traditions, that life was produced out of water, that water escaped the primal curse on nature, that devils hate and fear it because of this and the saltness of so much of it, many religions have used water for purification and exorcism. [ ] baptism is based on the notion that every child is offspring of the devil, and possessed of his demon; the fathers agreed that all unbaptized babes, even the still-born, are lost; and up to the year every infant was subjected at baptism to the exorcism, 'i command thee, unclean spirit, in the name of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost, that thou come out, and depart from, these infants whom our lord jesus christ has vouchsafed to call to his holy baptism, to be made members of his body and of his holy congregation,' &c. a clergyman informed me that he knew of a case in which a man, receiving back his child after christening, kissed it, and said, 'i never kissed it before, because i knew it was not a child of god; but now that it is, i love it dearly.' but why not? some even now teach that a white angel follows the baptized, a black demon the unbaptized. the belief was wide-spread that unbaptized children were turned into elves at death. in iceland it is still told as a bit of folk-lore, that when god visited eve, she kept a large number of her children out of sight, 'because they had not been washed,' and these children were turned into elves, and became the progenitors of that uncanny race. the greek church made so much of baptism, that there has been developed an eastern sect which claims john the baptist as its founder, making little of christ, who baptized none; and to this day in russia the peasant regards it as almost essential to a right reception of the benedictions of sunday to have been under water on the previous day--soap being sagaciously added. the roman catholic church, following the provision of the council of carthage, still sets a high value on baptismal exorcism; and calvin refers to a theological debate at the sorbonne in paris, whether it would not be justifiable for a priest to throw a child into a well rather than have it die unbaptized. luther preserved the catholic form of exorcism; and, in some districts of germany, protestants have still such faith in it, that, when either a child or a domestic animal is suspected of being possessed, they will send for the romish priest to perform the rite of exorcism. mr. herbert spencer has described the class of superstitions out of which the sacrament of the eucharist has grown. 'in some cases,' he says, 'parts of the dead are swallowed by the living, who seek thus to inspire themselves with the good qualities of the dead; and we saw (§ ) that the dead are supposed to be honoured by this act. the implied notion was supposed to be associated with the further notion that the nature of another being, inhering in all the fragments of his body, inheres too in the unconsumed part of anything consumed with his body; so that an operation wrought on the remnants of his food becomes an operation wrought on the food swallowed, and therefore on the swallower. yet another implication is, that between those who swallow different parts of the same food some community of nature is established. hence such beliefs as that ascribed by bastian to some negroes, who think that, 'on eating and drinking consecrated food, they eat and drink the god himself'--such god being an ancestor, who has taken his share. various ceremonies among savages are prompted by this conception; as, for instance, the choosing a totem. among the mosquito indians, 'the manner of obtaining this guardian was to proceed to some secluded spot and offer up a sacrifice: with the beast or bird which thereupon appeared, in dream or in reality, a compact for life was made, by drawing blood from various parts of the body.' this blood, supposed to be taken by the chosen animal, connected the two, and the animal's life became so bound up with their own that the death of one involved that of the other.' [ ] and now mark that, in these same regions, this idea reappears as a religious observance. sahagun and herrera describe a ceremony of the aztecs called 'eating the god.' mendieta, describing this ceremony, says, 'they had also a sort of eucharist.... they made a sort of small idols of seeds, ... and ate them as the body or memory of their gods.' as the seeds were cemented partly by the blood of sacrificed boys; as their gods were cannibal gods; as huitzilopochtli, whose worship included this rite, was the god to whom human sacrifices were most extensive; it is clear that the aim was to establish community with gods by taking blood in common.' [ ] when, a little time ago, a new zealand chief showed his high appreciation of a learned german by eating his eyes to improve his own intellectual vision, the case seemed to some to call for more and better protected missionaries; but the chief might find in the sacramental communion of the missionaries the real principle of his faith. the celebration of the 'lord's supper' when a bishop is ordained has only to be 'scratched,' as the proverb says, to reveal beneath it the indians choosing their episcopal totem. as israel observed the passover--eating together of the lamb whose blood sprinkled on their door-posts had marked those to be preserved from the destroying angel in egypt--they who believed that jesus was messias tasted the body and blood of their head, as indicating the elect out of a world otherwise given over to the destroyer spiritually, and finally to be delivered up to him bodily. 'he that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood dwelleth in me and i in him.' these were to tread on serpents, or handle them unharmed, as it is said paul did. they were not really to die, but to fall asleep, that they might be changed as a seed to its flower, through literal resurrection from the earth. we should probably look in vain after any satisfactory vestiges of the migration of the superstition concerning the mystical potency of food. it is found fully developed in the ancient hindu myth of the struggle between the gods and demons for the amrita, the immortalising nectar, one stolen sip of which gave the monster ráhu the imperishable nature which no other of his order possesses. it is found in corresponding myths concerning the gods of asgard and of olympus. the fall of man in the iranian legend was through a certain milk given by ahriman to the first pair, meschia and meschiane. in buddhist mythology, it was eating rice that corrupted the nature of man. it was the process of incarnation in the gilghit legend (i. ). the whole story of persephone turns upon her having eaten the seed of a pomegranate in hades, by which she was bound to that sphere. there is a myth very similar to that of persephone in japan. there is a legend in the scottish highlands that a woman was conveyed into the secret recesses of the 'men of peace'--the daoine shi', euphemistic name of uncanny beings, who carry away mortals to their subterranean apartments, where beautiful damsels tempt them to eat of magnificent banquets. this woman on her arrival was recognised by a former acquaintance, who, still retaining some portion of human benevolence, warned her that, if she tasted anything whatsoever for a certain space of time, she would be doomed to remain in that underworld for ever. the woman having taken this counsel, was ultimately restored to the society of mortals. it was added that, when the period named by her unfortunate friend had elapsed, a disenchantment of this woman's eyes took place, and the viands which had before seemed so tempting she now discovered to consist only of the refuse of the earth. [ ] the difficulty of tracing the ethnical origin of such legends as these is much greater than that of tracing their common natural origin. the effect of certain kinds of food upon the human system is very marked, even apart from the notorious effects of the drinks made from the vegetative world. the effects of mandrake, opium, tobacco, various semi-poisonous fungi, the simplicity with which differences of race might be explained by their vegetarian or carnivorous customs, would be enough to suggest theories of the potency of food over the body and soul of man such as even now have their value in scientific speculation. the jewish opinion that seth was the offspring of the divine part of adam was the germ of a remarkable christian myth. adam, when dying, desired seth to procure the oil of mercy (for his extreme unction) from the angels guarding paradise. michael informs seth that it can only be obtained after the lapse of the ages intervening the fall and the atonement. seth received, however, a small branch of the tree of knowledge, and was told that when it should bear fruit, adam would recover. returning, seth found adam dead, and planted the branch in his grave. it grew to a tree which solomon had hewn down for building the temple; but the workmen could not adapt it, threw it aside, and it was used as a bridge over a lake. the queen of sheba, about to cross this lake, beheld a vision of christ on the cross, and informed solomon that when a certain person had been suspended on that tree the fall of the jewish nation would be near. solomon in alarm buried the wood deep in the earth, and the spot was covered by the pool of bethesda. shortly before the crucifixion the tree floated on that water, and ultimately, as the cross, bore its fruit. [ ] in our old russian picture (fig. ) seth is shown offering a branch of the tree of knowledge to his father adam. that it should spring up to be the tree of life is simply in obedience to magian and gnostic theories, which generally turn on some scheme by which the good turns against the evil mind the point of his own weapon. these were the influences which gave to christian doctrines on the subject their perilous precision. the universal tradition was that adam was the first person liberated by christ from hell; and this corresponded with an equally wide belief that all who were saved by the death of christ and his descent into hell were at once raised into the moral condition of adam and eve before the fall,--to eat the food and breathe the holy air of paradise. an honest mirror was held up before this theology by the christian adamites. their movement (second and third centuries) was a most legitimate outcome of the pauline and johannine gospel. the author of this so-called 'heresy,' prodicus, really anticipated the methodist doctrine of 'sanctification,' and he was only consistent in admonishing his followers that clothing was, in the bible, the original badge of carnal guilt and shame, and was no longer necessary for those whom christ had redeemed from the fall and raised to the original innocence of adam and eve. these believers, in the appropriate climate of northern africa, had no difficulty in carrying out their doctrine practically, and having named their churches 'paradises,' assembled in them quite naked. there is still a superstition in the east that a snake will never attack one who is naked. the same adamite doctrine--a prelapsarian perfection symbolised by nudity--was taught by john picard in bohemia, and a flourishing sect of 'adamites' arose there in the fifteenth century. the slavonian adamites of the last century--and they are known to carry on their services still in secret--not only dispense with clothing, but also with sacraments and ceremonies, which are for the imperfect, not for the perfected. again and again has this logical result of the popular theology appeared, and with increasingly gross circumstances, as the refined and intelligent abandon except in name the corresponding dogmas. it is an impressive fact that paul's central doctrine of 'a new creature' is now adopted with most realistic orthodoxy by the mormons of utah, whose initiation consists of a dramatic performance on each candidate of moulding the body out of clay, breathing in the nostrils, the 'deep sleep' presentation of an eve to each adam, the temptation, fall, and redemption. the 'saints' thus made, unfortunately, seem to have equally realistic ideas that the gentiles are adherents of the prince of this world, and their sacramental bands have shown some striking imitations of those events of history which, when not labelled 'christian,' are pronounced barbarous. now that the old dogmatic system is being left more and more to the ignorant and vulgar to make over into their own image and likeness, it may be hoped that elsewhere also the error that libels and outrages nature will run to seed; for error, like the aloe, has its period when it shoots up a high stem and--dies. chapter xx. the holy ghost. a hanover relic--mr. atkinson on the dove--the dove in the old testament--ecclesiastical symbol--judicial symbol--a vision of st. dunstan's--the witness of chastity--dove and serpent--the unpardonable sin--inexpiable sin among the jews--destructive power of jehovah--potency of the breath--third persons of trinities--pentecost--christian superstitions--mr. moody on the sin against the holy ghost--mysterious fear--idols of the cave. there is in the old town of hanover, in germany, a schoolhouse in which, above the teacher's chair, there was anciently the representation of a dove perched upon an iron branch or rod; and beneath the inscription--'this shall lead you into all truth.' in the course of time the dove fell down and was removed to the museum; but there is still left before the children the rod, with the admonition that it will lead them into all truth. this is about as much as for a long time was left in the average christian mind of the symbolical dove, the holy ghost. half of its primitive sense departed, and there remained only an emblem of mysterious terror. more spiritual minds have introduced into the modern world a conception of the holy ghost as a life-giving influence or a spirit of love, but the ancient view which regarded it as the iron rod of judgment and execution still survives in the notion of the 'sin against the holy ghost.' mr. henry g. atkinson writes as follows: [ ]--'my old friend barry cornwall, the fine poet, once said to me, 'my dear atkinson, can you tell me the meaning of the holy ghost; what can it possibly mean?' 'well,' i said, 'i suppose it means a pigeon. we have never heard of it in any other form but that of the dove descending from heaven to the virgin mary. then we have the pretty fable of the dove returning to the ark with the olive-branch, so that the christian religion may be called the religion of the pigeon. in the greek church the pigeon is held sacred. st. petersburgh is swarming with pigeons, but they are never killed or disturbed. i knew a lady whose life was made wretched in the belief that she had sinned the unpardonable sin against the holy ghost, and neither priest nor physician could persuade her out of the delusion, though in all other respects she was quite sensible. she regarded herself as such a wretch that she could not bear to see herself in the glass, and the looking-glasses had all to be removed, and when she went to an hotel, her husband had to go first and have the looking-glasses of the apartments covered over. but what is the holy ghost--what is its office? sitting with miss martineau at her house at ambleside one day, a german lady, who spoke broken english, came in. she was a neighbour, and had a large house and grounds, and kept fowls. 'oh!' she said, quite excited, 'the beast has taken off another chicken (meaning the hawk). i saw it myself. the wretch! it came down just like the holy ghost, and snatched off the chicken.' how miss martineau did laugh; but i don't know that this story throws much light upon the subject, since it does but bring us back to the pigeon.' it would require a volume to explain fully all the problems suggested in this brief note, but the more important facts may be condensed. it is difficult to show how far the natural characteristics and habits of the dove are reflected in its wide-spread symbolism. its plaintive note and fondness for solitudes are indicated in the psalmist's aspiration, 'oh that i had the wings of a dove, then would i fly away and be at rest; lo, then would i wander far off, and remain in the wilderness.' [ ] it is not a difficult transition from this association with the wilderness to investment with a relationship with the demon of the wilderness--azazel. so we find it in certain passages in jeremiah, where the word has been suppressed in the ordinary english version. 'the land is desolate because of the fierceness of the dove.' 'let us go again to our own people to avoid the sword of the dove.' 'they shall flee away every one for fear of the sword of the dove.' [ ] in india its lustres--blue and fiery--may have connected it with azure-necked siva. the far-seeing and wonderful character of the pigeon as a carrier was well known to the ancients. on egyptian bas-reliefs priests are shown sending them with messages. they appear in the branches of the oaks of dodona, and in old russian frescoes they sometimes perch on the tree of knowledge in paradise. it is said that, in order to avail himself of this universal symbolism, mohammed trained a dove to perch on his shoulder. as the raven was said to whisper secrets to odin, so the dove was often pictured at the ear of god. in nôtre dame de chartres, its beak is at the ear of pope gregory the great. it passed--and did not have far to go--to be the familiar of kings. it brought the chrism from heaven at the baptism of clovis. white doves came to bear the soul of louis of thuringia to heaven. the dove surmounted the sceptre of charlemagne. at the consecration of the kings of france, after the ceremony of unction, white doves were let loose in the church. at the consecration of a monarch in england, a duke bears before the sovereign the sceptre with the dove. by association with both ecclesiastical and political sovereignty, it came to represent very nearly the old fatal serpent power which had lurked in all its transformations. when the holy ghost was represented as a crowned man, the dove was pictured on his wrist like that falcon with which the german lady, mentioned by mr. atkinson, identified it. but in this connection its symbolism is more especially referable to a passage in isaiah: [ ] 'there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots; and the spirit of the lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of the knowledge and of the fear of the lord.' the sanctity of the number seven led to the partition of the last clause into three spirits, making up the seven, which were: wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, piety, fear. in some of the representations of these where each of the seven doves is labelled with its name, 'fear' is at the top of their arch, a psalm having said, 'the fear of the lord is the beginning of wisdom.' when the knightly order of the holy ghost was created in , it was aristocratic, and, when reorganised by henry iii. of france in , it was restricted to magisterial and political personages. with them was the spirit of fear certainly; and the order shows plainly what had long been the ideas connected with the holy ghost. m. didron finds this confirmed in the legends of every country, and especially refers to a story of st. dunstan, archbishop of canterbury, in the tenth century. three men, convicted of coining false money, had been condemned to death. immediately before the celebration of mass on the day of pentecost, the festival of the holy ghost, st. dunstan inquired whether justice had been done upon the three criminals: he was informed in reply that the execution had been delayed on account of the solemn feast of pentecost then in celebration. 'it shall not be thus,' cried the indignant archbishop, and gave orders for the immediate execution of the guilty men. several of those who were present remonstrated against the cruelty of that order; it was nevertheless obeyed. after the execution of the criminals, dunstan washed his face, and turned with a joyful countenance towards his oratory. 'i now hope,' said he, 'that god will be pleased to accept the sacrifice i am about to offer;' and in fact, during the celebration of mass, at the moment when the saint raised his hands to implore that god the father would be pleased to give peace to his church, to guide, guard, and keep it in unity throughout the world, 'a dove, as white as snow, was seen to descend from heaven, and during the entire service remained with wings extended, floating silently in air above the head of the archbishop.' [ ] the passionate sexual nature of the dove made it emblem of aphrodite, and it became spiritualised in its consecration to the madonna. from its relation to the falsely-accused mary, there grew around the dove a special class of legends which show it attesting female innocence or avenging it. the white dove said to have issued from the mouth of joan of arc is one of many instances. there is still, i believe, preserved in the lyttleton family the picture painted by dowager lady lyttleton in , in commemoration of the warning of death given to lord lyttleton by the mother of two girls he had seduced, the vision being attended by a fluttering dove. the original account of his vision or dream, attributed to lord lyttleton, mentions only 'a bird.' when next told, it is that he 'heard a noise resembling the fluttering of a dove,' and on looking to the window saw 'an unhappy female whom he had seduced.' but the exigencies of orthodoxy are too strong for original narratives. as the 'bird' attested an announcement that on the third day (that too was gradually added) he would die, it must have been a dove; and as the dove attends only the innocent, it must have been the poor girl's mother that appeared. it was easy to have the woman die at the precise hour of appearance. [ ] when in chicago in , i read in one of the morning papers a very particular account of how a white dove flew into the chamber window of a young unmarried woman in a neighbouring village, she having brought forth a child, and solemnly declaring that she had never lost her virginity. in this history of the symbolism of the dove the theological development of the holy ghost has been outlined. we have seen in the previous chapter that the holy spirit is in opposition to the natural air,--repository of evils. the dove symbolised this aspect of it in hovering over the world emerging from its diluvial baptism, and also over the typical new adam (jesus) coming from his baptism. but in this it corresponds with the serpent-symbol of life in egyptian mythology brooding over the primal mundane egg (as in fig. , vol. i.). nathaniel hawthorne found a mystical meaning in the beautiful group at rome representing a girl pressing a dove to her bosom while she is attacked by a serpent. but in their theological aspects the dove and the serpent blend; they are at once related and separated in christ's words, 'be ye wise as serpents and harmless as doves;' but in the office of the holy ghost as representing a divine intelligence, and its consequent evolution as executor of divine judgments, it fulfils in christendom much the same part as the serpent in the more primitive mythologies. 'every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven unto men,' said a legendary christ; [ ] 'but the blasphemy against the spirit will not be forgiven. and whosoever shall speak a word against the son of man, it will be forgiven him, but whosoever shall speak against the holy ghost, it will not be forgiven him, neither in this world nor in that to come.' in mark [ ] it is said, 'all things shall be forgiven unto the sons of men, the sins and the blasphemies wherewith they shall blaspheme: but whosoever shall blaspheme against the holy ghost has never forgiveness, but will be guilty of everlasting sin; (because they said, he has an unclean spirit).' when christ uttered these tremendous words, no disciple seems to have been startled, or to have inquired into the nature of that sin, so much worse than any offence against himself or the father, which has since employed so much theological speculation. in fact, they needed no explanation: it was an old story; the unpardonable sin was a familiar feature of ancient jewish law. therein the sin excluded from expiation was any presumptuous language or action against jehovah. it is easy to see why this was so. real offences, crimes against man or society, were certain of punishment, through the common interest and need. but the honour and interests of jehovah, not being obvious or founded in nature, required special and severe statutes. the less a thing is protected by its intrinsic and practical importance, the more it must, if at all, be artificially protected. this is illustrated in the story of eli and his two sons. these youths were guilty of the grossest immoralities, but not a word was said against them, they being sons of the high priest, except a mild remonstrance from eli himself. but when on an occasion these youths tasted the part of the sacrificial meat offered to jehovah, the divine wrath was kindled. eli, much more terrified at this ceremonial than the moral offence, said to his sons, 'if one man sin against another, the judge shall judge him, but if a man sin against jehovah, who shall entreat for him?' in protecting his interests, jehovah's destroying angel does not allude to any other offence of eli's sons except that against himself. but when the priestly guardians of the divine interests came with their people under the control of successive gallios,--aliens who cared not for their ceremonial law, and declined to permit the infliction of its penalties, as england now forbids suttee in india,--the priests could only pass sentences; execution of them had to be adjourned to a future world. the doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments is not one which a priesthood would naturally prefer or invent. so long as a priesthood possesses the power of life and death over the human body, they would not, by suggesting future awards, risk the possibility of a heresy arising to maintain deorum injuria diis cura. but where an alien jurisdiction has relegated to local deities the defence of their own majesty, there must grow up the theory that such offences as cannot be expiated on earth are unpardonable, and must, because of the legal impunity with which they can be committed, be all the more terribly avenged somewhere else. under alien influences, also, the supreme and absolute government of jehovah had been divided, as is elsewhere described. he who originally claimed the empire of both light and darkness, good and evil, when his rivalry against other gods was on a question of power, had to be relieved of responsibility for earthly evils when the moral sense demanded dualism. thus there grew up a separate personification of the destructive power of jehovah, which had been supposed to lodge in his breath. the last breath of man obviously ends life; there is nothing more simple in its natural germ than the association of the first breath and the last with the creative spirit. [ ] this potency of the breath or spirit is found in many ancient regions. it is the natural teaching of the destructive simoom, [ ] or even of the annual autumnal breath which strikes the foliage with death. persia especially abounded with superstitions of this character. by a sorcerer's breath the two serpents were evoked from the breast of zohák. nizami has woven the popular notion into his story of the two physicians who tried to destroy each other; one of whom survived his rival's poisonous draught, and killed that rival by making him smell a flower on which he had breathed. [ ] such notions as these influenced powerfully the later development of the idea of jehovah, concerning whom it was said of old, 'with the breath of his mouth shall he slay the wicked;' 'the breath of the lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle (tophet).' meanwhile in all the trinitarian races which were to give form to christian mythology, destructiveness had generally (not invariably) become the traditional rôle of the third person. [ ] in egypt there were osiris the creator, horus the preserver, typhon the destroyer; in babylonia, anu the upper air, sin (uri) the moon, samis the sun. in assyria the sun regains his place, and deadly influences were ascribed to the moon. in india, brahma the father, vishnu the saviour, siva the destroyer; in persia, zeruâne-akrane infinite time, ormuzd the good, ahriman the evil; in greece zeus, poseidôn, and hadês, or heaven, ocean, and hell, were the first-born of time. the trinitarian form had gradually crept in among the jews, though their jahvistic theology only admitted its application to inferior deities--cain, abel, seth; moses, aaron, hur; abraham, isaac, jacob. as time went on, these succeeded the ideas of jehovah, messias, and wisdom. but already the serpent was the wisest of all the beasts of the field in jewish mythology; and the personified wisdom was fully prepared to be identified with athene, the greek wisdom, who sprang armed from the head of zeus (the air), and whose familiar was a serpent. on the other hand, however, the divine breath had also its benign significance. siva ('the auspicious') inherited the character of rudra ('roaring storm'), but it was rather supported later on by his wife káli. athena though armed was the goddess of agriculture. the breath of elohim had given man life. 'i now draw in and now let forth,' says krishna; [ ] 'i am generation and dissolution; i am death and immortality.' 'thou wilt fancy it the dawning zephyr of an early spring,' says sàdi; 'but it is the breath of isa, or jesus; for in that fresh breath and verdure the dead earth is reviving.' [ ] 'the voice of the turtle is heard in the land,' sings solomon. when the third person of the christian trinity was constituted, it inherited the fatality of all the previous third persons--the destroyers--while it veiled them in mystery. when the holy ghost inspired the disciples the account is significant. [ ] 'suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, ... and there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. and they were all filled with the holy ghost.' this was on the day of pentecost, the harvest festival, when the first-fruits were offered to the quickening spirit or breath of nature; but the destructive feature is there also--the tongues are cloven like those of serpents. the beneficent power was manifest at the gate called beautiful when the lame man was made to walk by peter's power; but its fatal power was with the same apostle, and when he said, 'why hath satan filled thy heart to lie to the holy ghost?' instantly ananias fell down and gave up the ghost. [ ] the spirit was carried, it is said, in the breath of the apostles. its awfulness had various illustrations. mary offered up two doves in token of her conception by the holy ghost. jesus is described as scourging from the temple those that sold doves, and the allegory is repeated in peter's denunciation of simon magus, who offered money for the gift of the holy ghost. [ ] in one of his sermons mr. moody said, 'nearly every day we have somebody coming into the inquiry-room very much discouraged and disheartened and cast down, because they think they have committed a sin against the holy ghost, and that there is no hope for them.' mr. moody said he believed the sin was nearly impossible, but he adds this remarkable statement, 'i don't remember of ever hearing a man swear by the holy ghost except once, and then i looked upon him expecting him to fall dead, and my blood ran cold when i heard him.' but it is almost as rare to hear prayers addressed to the holy ghost; and both phenomena--for praying and swearing are radically related--are no doubt survivals of the ancient notions which i have described. the forces of nature out of which the symbol grew, the life that springs from death and grows by decay, is essentially repeated again by those who adhere to the letter that kills, and also by those who ascend with the spirit that makes alive. it is probable that no more terrible form of the belief in a devil survives than this holy ghost dogma, which, lurking in vagueness and mystery, like the serpent of which it was born, passes by the self-righteous to cast its shadows over the most sensitive and lowly minds, chiefly those of pure women prone to exaggerate their least blemishes. in right reason the fatal holy ghost stands as the type of that fear by which priesthoods have been able to preserve their institutions after the deities around whom they grew had become unpresentable, and which could best be fostered beneath the veil of mystery. they who love darkness rather than light because their deeds cannot bear the light, veil their gods not to abolish them but to preserve them. calvinism is veiled, and athanasianism, and romanism; they are all veiled idols, whose power lives by being hid in a mass of philology and casuistry. so long as christianity can persuade the pope and dr. martineau, dean stanley and mr. moody, quakers, shakers, jumpers, all to describe themselves alike as 'christians,' its real nature will be veiled, its institutions will cumber the ground, and draw away the strength and intellect due to humanity; the indefinable 'infidel' will be a devil. this process has been going on for a long time. the serpent-god, accursed by the human mind which grew superior to it, has crept into its ark; but its fang and venom linger with that bishop breathing on a priest, the priest breathing on a sick child, and bears down side by side with science that atmosphere of mystery in which creep all the old reptiles that throttle common sense and send their virus through all the social frame. in demonology the holy ghost is not a devil, but in it are reflected the diabolisation of culture and progress and art. it was these 'devils' which compelled the gods to veil themselves through successive ages, and to spiritualise their idols and dogmas to save their institutions. the deities concealed have proved far more potent over the popular imagination than when visible. the indefinable terrible menace of the holy ghost was a consummate reply to that equally indefinable spirit of loathing and contempt which rises among the cultured and refined towards things that have become unreal, their formalities and their cant. it is this ever-recurring necessity that enables clergymen to denounce belief in hell and a devil in churches which assuredly would never have been built but for the superstition so denounced. the ancient beliefs and the present denunciation of them are on the same thread,--the determination of a church to survive and hold its power at any and every cost. the jesuitical power to veil the dogma is the most successful method of confronting the spirit of an age, which in the eye of reason is the only holy spirit, but which to ecclesiastical power struggling with enlightenment is the only formidable satan. chapter xxi. antichrist. the kali age--satan sifting simon--satan as angel of light--epithets of antichrist--the cæsars--nero--sacraments imitated by pagans--satanic signs and wonders--jerome on antichrist--armillus--al dajjail--luther on mohammed--'mawmet'--satan 'god's ape'--mediæval notions--witches sabbath--an infernal trinity--serpent of sins--antichrist popes--luther as antichrist--modern notions of antichrist. in the 'padma purana' it is recorded that when king vena embraced heretical doctrine and abjured the temples and sacrifices, the people following him, seven powerful rishis, high priests, visited him and entreated him to return to their faith. they said, 'these acts, o king, which thou art performing, are not of our holy traditions, nor fit for our religion, but are such as shall be performed by mankind at the entrance of kali, the last and sinful age, when thy new faith shall be received by all, and the service of the gods be utterly relinquished.' king vena, being thus in advance of his time, was burned on the sacred grass, while a mantra was performed for him. this theory of kali is curious as indicating a final triumph of the enemies of the gods. in the scandinavian theory of 'ragnarok,' the twilight of the gods, there also seems to have been included no hope of the future victory of the existing gods. in the parsí faith we first meet with the belief in a general catastrophe followed by the supremacy and universal sway of good. this faith characterised the later hebrew prophecies, and is the spirit of paul's brave saying, 'when all things shall be subjected unto him, then also shall the son himself be subject unto him that put all things under him, that god may be all in all.' when, however, theology and metaphysics advanced and modelled this fiery lava of prophetic and apostolic ages into dogmatic shapes, evil was accorded an equal duration with good. the conflict between christ and his foes was not to end with the conversion or destruction of his foes, but his final coming as monarch of the world was to witness the chaining up of the archfiend in the pit. christ's own idea of satan, assuming certain reported expressions to have been really uttered by him, must have been that which regarded him as a tempter to evil, whose object was to test the reality of faith. 'simon, simon, behold, satan asked you for himself, that he might sift you as the wheat; but i made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not; and when once thou hast returned, confirm thy brethren. and he said unto him, lord, i am ready to go with thee, both into prison and into death. and he said, i tell thee, peter, a cock will not crow this day till thou wilt thrice deny that thou knowest me.' [ ] such a sentiment could not convey to jewish ears a degraded notion of satan, except as being a nocturnal spirit who must cease his work at cock-crow. it is an adaptation of what jehovah himself was said to do, in the prophecy of amos. 'i will not utterly destroy the house of jacob, saith the lord.... i will sift the house of israel among all nations, like as corn is sifted in a sieve, yet shall not the least grain fall upon the earth.' [ ] paul, too, appears to have had some such conception of satan, since he speaks of an evil-doer as delivered up to satan 'for the destruction of the flesh that the spirit may be saved.' [ ] there is, however, in another passage an indication of the distinctness with which paul and his friends had conceived a fresh adaptation of satan as obstacle of their work. 'for such,' he says, 'are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of christ. and no marvel: for satan transforms himself into an angel of light. it is no great thing therefore if his ministers also transform themselves as ministers of righteousness; whose end will be according to their works.' [ ] it may be noted here that paul does not think of satan himself as transforming himself to a minister of righteousness, but of satan's ministers as doing so. it is one of a number of phrases in the new testament which reveal the working of a new movement towards an expression of its own. real and far-reaching religious revolutions in history are distinguished from mere sectarian modifications, which they sum up in nothing more than in their new phraseology. when jehovah, messias, and satan are gradually supplanted by father, christ, and antichrist (or man of sin, false christ, withholder (katechon), false prophet, son of perdition, mystery of iniquity, lawless one), it is plain that new elements are present, and new emergencies. these varied phrases just quoted could not, indeed, crystallise for a long time into any single name for the new obstacle to the new life, for during the same time the new life itself was too living, too various, to harden in any definite shape or be marked with any special name. the only new testament writer who uses the word antichrist is the so-called apostle john; and it is interesting to remark that it is by him connected with a dogmatic statement of the nature of christ and definition of heresy. 'every spirit that confesses jesus christ is come in the flesh is of god; and every spirit that confesses not jesus is not of god: and this is the spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it comes; and now it is in the world already.' [ ] this language, characteristic of the middle and close of the second century, [ ] is in strong contrast with paul's utterance in the first century, describing the man of sin (or of lawlessness, the son of perdition), as one 'who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called god, or that is worshipped; so that he sat in the temple of god, showing himself that he is god.' [ ] christ has not yet begun to supplant god; to paul he is the son of god confronting the son of destruction, the divine man opposed by the man of sin. when the nature of christ becomes the basis of a dogma, the man of sin is at once defined as the opponent of that dogma. as this dogma struggled on to its consummation and victory, it necessarily took the form of a triumph over the cæsars, who were proclaiming themselves gods, and demanding worship as such. the writer of the second epistle bearing peter's name saw those christians who yielded to such authority typified in balaam, the erring prophet who was opposed by the angel; [ ] the writer of the gospel of john saw the traitor judas as the 'son of perdition,' [ ] representing jesus as praying that the rest of his disciples might be kept 'out of the evil one;' and many similar expressions disclose the fact that, towards the close of the second century, and throughout the third, the chief obstacle of those who were just beginning to be called 'christians' was the temptation offered by rome to the christians themselves to betray their sect. it was still a danger to name the very imperial gods who successively set themselves up to be worshipped at rome, but the pointing of the phrases is unmistakable long before the last of the pagan emperors held the stirrup for the first christian pontiff to mount his horse. nero had answered to the portrait of 'the son of perdition sitting in the temple of god' perfectly. he aspired to the title 'king of the jews.' he solemnly assumed the name of jupiter. he had his temples and his priests, and shared divine honours with his mistress poppæa. yet, when nero and his glory had perished under those phials of wrath described in the apocalypse, a more exact image of the insidious 'false christ' appeared in vespasian. his alleged miracles ('lying wonders'), and the reported prediction of his greatness by a prophet on mount carmel, his oppression of the jews, who had to contribute the annual double drachma to support the temples and gods which vespasian had restored, altogether made this decorous and popular emperor a more formidable enemy than the 'beast' nero whom he succeeded. the virtues and philosophy of marcus aurelius still increased the danger. political conditions favoured all those who were inclined to compromise, and to mingle the popular pagan and the jewish festivals, symbols, and ceremonies. in apocalyptic metaphor, vespasian and aurelius are the two horns of the lamb who spake like the dragon, i.e., nero (rev. xiii. ). the beginnings of that mongrel of superstitions which at last gained the name of christianity were in the liberation, by decay of parts and particles, of all those systems which julius cæsar had caged together for mutual destruction. 'with new thrones rise new altars,' says byron's sardanapalus; but it is still more true that, with new thrones all altars crumble a little. at an early period the differences between the believers in christ and those they called idolaters were mainly in name; and, with the increase of gentile converts, the adoption of the symbolism and practices of the old religions was so universal that the quarrel was about originality. 'the devil,' says tertullian, 'whose business it is to pervert the truth, mimics the exact circumstances of the divine sacraments in the mysteries of idols. he himself baptizes some, that is to say, his believers and followers: he promises forgiveness of sins from the sacred fount, and thus initiates them into the religion of mithras; he thus marks on the forehead his own soldiers: he then celebrates the oblation of bread; he brings in the symbol of resurrection, and wins the crown with the sword.' [ ] what masses of fantastic nonsense it was possible to cram into one brain was shown in the time of nero, the brain being that of simon the magician. simon was, after all, a representative man; he reappears in christian gnosticism, and peter, who denounced him, reappears also in the phrenzy of montanism. take the followers of this sorcerer worshipping his image in the likeness of jupiter, the moon, and minerva; and montanus with his wild women priscilla and maximilla going about claiming to be inspired by the holy ghost to re-establish syrian orthodoxy and asceticism; and we have fair specimens of the parties that glared at each other, and apostrophised each other as children of belial. they competed with each other by pretended miracles. they both claimed the name of christ, and all the approved symbols and sacraments. the triumph of one party turned the other into antichrist. thus in process of time, as one hydra-head fell only to be followed by another, there was defined a spirit common to and working through them all--a new devil, whose special office was hostility to christ, and whose operations were through those who claimed to be christians as well as through open enemies. as usual, when the phrases, born of real struggles, had lost their meaning, they were handed up to the theologians to be made into perpetual dogmas. out of an immeasurable mass of theories and speculations, we may regard the following passage from jerome as showing what had become the prevailing belief at the beginning of the fifth century. 'let us say that which all ecclesiastical writers have handed down, viz., that at the end of the world, when the roman empire is to be destroyed, there will be ten kings, who will divide the roman world among them; and there will arise an eleventh little king who will subdue three of the ten kings, that is, the king of egypt, of africa, and of ethiopia; and on these having been slain, the seven other kings will submit.' 'and behold,' he says, 'in the ram were the eyes of a man'--this is that we may not suppose him to be a devil or a dæmon, as some have thought, but a man in whom satan will dwell utterly and bodily--'and a mouth speaking great things;' for he is the 'man of sin, the son of perdition, who sitteth in the temple of god making himself as god.' [ ] the 'little horn' of daniel has proved a cornucopia of antichrists. not only the christians but the jews and the mussulmans have definite beliefs on the subject. the rabbinical name for antichrist is armillus, a word found in the targum (isa. xi. ): 'by the word of his mouth the wicked armillus shall die.' there will be twelve signs of the messiah's coming--appearance of three apostate kings, terrible heat of the sun, dew of blood, healing dew, the sun darkened for thirty days, universal power of rome with affliction for jews, and the appearance of the first messias (joseph's tribe), nehemiah. the next and seventh sign will be the appearance of armillus, born of a marble statue in a church at rome. the romans will accept him as their god, and the whole world be subject to him. nehemiah alone will refuse to worship him, and for this will be slain, and the jews suffer terrible things. the eighth sign will be the appearance of the angel michael with three blasts of his trumpet--which shall call forth elias, the forerunner, and the true messias (ben david), and bring on the war with armillus who shall perish, and all christians with him. the ten tribes shall be gathered into paradise. messias shall wed the fairest daughter of their race, and when he dies his sons shall succeed him, and reign in unbroken line over a beatified israel. the mussulman modification of the notion of antichrist is very remarkable. they call him al dajjail, that is, the impostor. they say that mohammed told his follower tamisri al-dari, that at the end of the world antichrist would enter jerusalem seated on an ass; but that jesus will then make his second coming to encounter him. the beast of the apocalypse will aid antichrist, but jesus will be joined by imam mahadi, who has never died; together they will subdue antichrist, and thereafter the mussulmans and christians will for ever be united in one religion. the jews, however, will regard antichrist as their expected messias. antichrist will be blind of one eye, and deaf of one ear. 'unbeliever' will be written on his forehead. in that day the sun will rise in the west. [ ] the christians poorly requited this amicable theory of the mussulmans by very extensively identifying mohammed as antichrist, at one period. from that period came the english word mawmet (idol), and mummery (idolatry), both of which, probably, are derived from the name of the arabian prophet. daniel's 'little horn' betokens, according to martin luther, mohammed. 'but what are the little horn's eyes? the little horn's eyes,' says he, 'mean mohammed's alkoran, or law, wherewith he ruleth. in the which law there is nought but sheer human reason (eitel menschliche vernunft).' ... 'for his law,' he reiterates, 'teaches nothing but that which human understanding and reason may well like.' ... wherefore 'christ will come upon him with fire and brimstone.' when he wrote this--in his 'army sermon' against the turks--in , he had never seen a koran. 'brother richard's' (predigerordens) confutatio alcoran, dated , formed the exclusive basis of his argument. but in lent of , he relates, a latin translation, though a very unsatisfactory one, fell into his hands, and once more he returned to brother richard, and did his refutation into german, supplementing his version with brief but racy notes. this brother richard had, according to his own account, gone in quest of knowledge to 'babylon, that beautiful city of the saracens,' and at babylon he had learnt arabic and been inured in the evil ways of the saracens. when he had safely returned to his native land he set about combating the same. and this is his exordium:--'at the time of the emperor heraclius there arose a man, yea, a devil, and a first-born child of satan, ... who wallowed in ... and he was dealing in the black art, and his name it was machumet.' ... this work luther made known to his countrymen by translating and commenting, prefacing, and rounding it off by an epilogue. true, his notes amount to little more but an occasional 'oh fie, for shame, you horrid devil, you damned mahomet,' or 'o satan, satan, you shall pay for that,' or, 'that's it, devils, saracens, turks, it's all the same,' or, 'here the devil smells a rat,' or briefly, 'o pfui dich, teufel!' except when he modestly, with a query, suggests whether those assassins, who, according to his text, are regularly educated to go out into the world in order to kill and slay all worldly powers, may not, perchance, be the gypsies or the 'tattern' (tartars); or when he breaks down with a 'hic nescio quid dicat translator.' his epilogue, however, is devoted to a special disquisition as to whether mohammed or the pope be worse. and in the twenty-second chapter of this disquisition he has arrived at the final conclusion that, after all, the pope is worse, and that he, and not mohammed, is the real 'endechrist.' 'wohlen,' he winds up, 'god grant us his grace, and punish both the pope and mohammed, together with their devils. i have done my part as a true prophet and teacher. those who won't listen may leave it alone.' in similar strains speaks the learned and gentle melancthon. in an introductory epistle to a reprint of that same latin koran which displeased luther so much, he finds fault with mohammed, or rather, to use his own words, he thinks that 'mohammed is inspired by satan,' because he 'does not explain what sin is,' and further, since he 'showeth not the reason of human misery.' he agrees with luther about the little horn: though in another treatise he is rather inclined to see in mohammed both gog and magog. and 'mohammed's sect,' he says, 'is altogether made up (conflata) of blasphemy, robbery, and shameful lusts.' nor does it matter in the least what the koran is all about. 'even if there were anything less scurrilous in the book, it need not concern us any more than the portents of the egyptians, who invoked snakes and cats.... were it not that partly this mohammedan pest, and partly the pope's idolatry, have long been leading us straight to wreck and ruin--may god have mercy upon some of us!' [ ] 'mawmet' was used by wicliffe for idol in his translation of the new testament, acts vii. , 'and they made a calf in those days and offered a sacrifice to the mawmet' (idol). the word, though otherwise derived by some, is probably a corruption of mohammed. in the 'mappa mundi' of the thirteenth century we find the representation of the golden calf in the promontory of sinai, with the superscription 'mahum' for mohammed, whose name under various corruptions, such as mahound, mawmet, &c., became a general byword in the mediæval languages for an idol. in a missionary hymn of wesley's mohammed is apostrophised as-- that arab thief, as satan bold, who quite destroyed thy asian fold; and the almighty is adjured to-- the unitarian fiend expel, and chase his doctrine back to hell. in these days, when the very mention of the devil raises a smile, we can hardly realise the solemnity with which his work was once viewed. when goethe represents mephistopheles as undertaking to teach faust's class in theology and dwells on his orthodoxy, it is the refrain of the faith of many generations. the devil was not 'god's ape,' as tertullian called him, in any comical way; not only was his ceremonial believed to be modelled on that of god, but his inspiration of his followers was believed to be quite as potent and earnest. tertullian was constrained to write in this strain--'blush, my roman fellow-soldiers, even if ye are not to be judged by christ, but by any soldier of mithras, who when he is undergoing initiation in the cave, the very camp of the powers of darkness, when the wreath is offered him (a sword being placed between as if in semblance of martyrdom), and then about to be set on his head, he is warned to put forth his hand and push the wreath away, transferring it to, perchance, his shoulder, saying at the same time, my only crown is mithras. and thenceforth he never wears a wreath; and this is a mark he has for a test, whenever tried as to his initiation, for he is immediately proved to be a soldier of mithras if he throws down the wreath offered him, saying his crown is in his god. let us therefore acknowledge the craft of the devil, who mimics certain things of those that be divine, in order that he may confound and judge us by the faith of his own followers.' this was written before the exaltation of christianity under constantine. when the age of the martyrdom of the so-called pagans came on, these formulæ became real, and the christians were still more confounded by finding that the worshippers of the devil, as they thought them, could yield up their lives in many parts of europe as bravely for their faith as any christian had ever done. the 'prince of this world' became thus an unmeaning phrase except for the heretics. christ had become the prince of this world; and he was opposed by religious devotees as earnest as any who had suffered under nero. the relation of the opposition to the devil was yet more closely defined when it claimed the christian name for its schism or heresy, and when it carried its loyalty to the adversary of the church to the extent of suffering martyrdom. 'tell me, holy father,' said evervinus to st. bernard, concerning the albigenses, 'how is this? they entered to the stake and bore the torment of the fire not only with patience, but with joy and gladness. i wish your explanation, how these members of the devil could persist in their heresy with a courage and constancy scarcely to be found in the most religious of the faith of christ?' under these circumstances the personification of antichrist had a natural but still wonderful development. he was to be born of a virgin, in babylon, to be educated at bethsaida and chorazin, and to make a triumphal entry into jerusalem, proclaiming himself the son of god. in the interview at messina ( ) between richard i. and the abbot joachim of floris, the king said, 'i thought that antichrist would be born at antioch or in babylon, and of the tribe of dan, and would reign in the temple of the lord in jerusalem, and would walk in that land in which christ walked, and would reign in it for three years and a half, and would dispute against elijah and enoch, and would kill them, and would afterwards die; and that after his death god would give sixty days of repentance, in which those might repent which should have erred from the way of truth, and have been seduced by the preaching of antichrist and his false prophets.' this belief was reflected in western europe in the belief that the congregation of witches assembled on their sabbath (an institution then included among paganisms) to celebrate grand mass to the devil, and that all the primitive temples were raised in honour of satan. in the russian church the correspondence between the good and evil powers, following their primitive faith in the conflict between byelbog and tchernibog (white god and black god), went to the curious extent of picturing in hell a sort of infernal trinity. the father throned in heaven with the son between his knees and the dove beside or beneath him, was replied to by a majestic satan in hell, holding his son (judas) on his knees, and the serpent acting as counteragent of the dove. this singular arrangement may still be seen in many of the pictures which cover the walls of the oldest russian churches (fig. ). the infernal god is not without a solemn majesty answering to that of his great antagonist above. the serpent of sins proceeds from the diabolical father and son, passing from beneath their throne through one of the two mouths of hell, and then winds upward, hungrily opening its jaws near the terrible balances where souls are weighed (fig. ). along its hideous length are seated at regular intervals nine winged devils, representing probably antagonists of the nine sephiroth or Æons of the gnostic theology. each is armed with a hook whereby the souls weighed and found wanting may be dragged. the sins which these devils represent are labelled, generally on rings around the serpent, and increase in heinousness towards the head. it is a curious fact that the sin nearest the head is marked 'unmercifulness.' strange and unconscious sarcasm on an omnipotent deity under whose sway exists this elaboration of a scheme of sins and tortures precisely corresponding to the scheme of virtues and joys! truly said the epistle of john, there be many antichrists. if this was true before the word christianity had been formed, or the system it names, what was the case afterwards? for centuries we find vast systems denouncing each other as antichrist. and ultimately, as a subtle hardly-conscious heresy spread abroad, the great excommunicator of antichrists itself, rome, acquired that title, which it has never shaken off since. the see of rome did not first receive that appellation from protestants, but from its own chiefs. gregory himself (a.c. ) started the idea by declaring that any man who held even the shadow of such power as the popes arrogated to themselves after his time would be the forerunner of antichrist. arnulphus, bishop of orleans, in an invective against john xv. at rheims (a.c. ), intimated that a pope destitute of charity was antichrist. but the stigma was at length fixed (twelfth century) by amalrich of bena ('quia papa esset antichristus et roma babylon et ipse sedit in monte oliveti, i.e., in pinguedine potestatis'); and also by the abbot joachim (a.c. ). the theory of richard i., as stated to joachim concerning antichrist, has already been quoted. it was in the presence of the archbishops of rouen and auxerre, and the bishop of bayonne, and represented their opinion and the common belief of the time. but joachim said the second apocalyptic beast represented some great prelate who will be like simon magus, and, as it were, universal pontiff, and that very antichrist of whom st. paul speaks. hildebrand was the first pope to whom this ugly label was affixed, but the career of alexander vi. (roderic borgia) made it for ever irremovable for the protestant mind. there is in the british museum a volume of caricatures, dated , in which occurs an ingenious representation of alexander vi. the pope is first seen in his ceremonial robes; but a leaf being raised, another figure is joined to the lower part of the former, and there appears the papal devil, the cross in his hand being changed to a pitchfork (fig. ). attached to it is an explanation in german giving the legend of the pope's death. he was poisoned ( ) by the cup he had prepared for another man. it was afterwards said that he had secured the papacy by aid of the devil. having asked how long he would reign, the devil returned an equivocal answer; and though alexander understood that it was to be fifteen years, it proved to be only eleven. when in pope leo x. issued his formal bull against luther, the reformer termed it 'the execrable bull of antichrist.' an italian poem of the time having represented luther as the offspring of megæra, the germans returned the invective in a form more likely to impress the popular mind; namely, in a caricature (fig. ), representing the said fury as nursing the pope. this caricature is also of date , and with it were others showing alecto and tisiphone acting in other capacities for the papal babe. the lutherans had made the discovery that the number of the apocalyptic beast, , put into hebrew numeral letters, contained the words aberin kadescha papa (our holy father the pope). the downfall of this antichrist was a favourite theme of pulpit eloquence, and also with artists. a very spirited pamphlet was printed ( ), and illustrated with designs by luther's friend lucas cranach. it was entitled passional christi und antichristi. the fall of the papal antichrist (fig. ), has for its companion one of christ washing the feet of his disciples. but the catholics could also make discoveries; and among many other things they found that the word 'luther' in hebrew numerals also made the number of the beast. it was remembered that one of the earliest predictions concerning antichrist was that he would travesty the birth of christ from a virgin by being born of a nun by a bishop. luther's marriage with the nun catharine von bora came sufficiently near the prediction to be welcomed by his enemies. the source of his inspiration as understood by catholics is cleverly indicated in a caricature of the period (fig. ). the theory that the papacy represents antichrist has so long been the solemn belief of rebels against its authority, that it has become a vulgarised article of protestant faith. on the other hand, catholics appear to take a political and prospective view of antichrist. cardinal manning, in his pastoral following the election of leo xiii., said: 'a tide of revolution has swept over all countries. every people in europe is inwardly divided against itself, and the old society of christendom, with its laws, its sanctities, and its stability, is giving way before the popular will, which has no law, or rather which claims to be a law to itself. this is at least the forerunning sign of the lawless one, who in his own time shall be revealed.' throughout the endless exchange of epithets, it has been made clear that antichrist is the reductio ad absurdum of the notion of a personal devil. from the day when the word was first coined, it has assumed every variety of shape, has fitted with equal precision the most contrarious things and persons; and the need of such a novel form at one point or another in the progress of controversy is a satire on the inadequacy of satan and his ancient ministers. bygone devils cannot represent new animosities. the ascent of every ecclesiastical or theological system is traceable in massacres and martyrdoms; each of these, whether on one side or the other, helps to develop a new devil. the story of antichrist shows devils in the making. meantime, to eyes that see how every system so built up must sacrifice a virtue at every stage of its ascent, it will be sufficiently clear that every powerful church is adversary of the religion it claims to represent. buddhism is antibuddha; islam is antimohammed; christianity is antichrist. chapter xxii. the pride of life. the curse of iblis--samaël as democrat--his vindication by christ and paul--asmodäus--history of the name--aschmedai of the jews--book of tobit--doré's 'triumph of christianity'--aucassin and nicolette--asmodeus in the convent--the asmodeus of le sage--mephistopheles--blake's 'marriage of heaven and hell'--the devil and the artists--sádi's vision of satan--arts of the devil--suspicion of beauty--earthly and heavenly mansions--deacon versus devil. on the parapet of the external gallery of nôtre dame in paris is the carved form, of human size, represented in our figure ( ). there is in the face a remarkable expression of pride and satisfaction as he looks forth on the gay city and contemplates all the wickedness in it, but this satisfaction is curiously blended with a look of envy and lust. his elegant head-dress gives him the pomp becoming the asmodeus presiding over the most brilliant capital in the world. his seat on the fine parapet is in contrast with the place assigned him in eastern traditions--ruins and desert places,--but otherwise he fairly fulfilled, no doubt, early ideas in selecting his headquarters at paris. a mussulman legend says that when, after the fall of man, allah was mitigating the sentences he had pronounced, iblis (who, as the koran relates, pleaded and obtained the deferment of his consignment to hell until the resurrection, and unlimited power over sinners who do not accept the word of allah) asked-- 'where shall i dwell in the meantime? 'in ruins, tombs, and all other unclean places shunned by man. 'what shall be my food? 'all things slain in the name of idols. 'how shall i quench my thirst? 'with wine and intoxicating liquors. 'what shall occupy my leisure hours? 'music, song, love-poetry, and dancing. 'what is my watchword? 'the curse of allah until the day of judgment. 'but how shall i contend with man, to whom thou hast granted two guardian angels, and who has received thy revelation? 'thy progeny shall be more numerous than his,--for for every man that is born, there shall come into the world seven evil spirits--but they shall be powerless against the faithful.' iblis with wine, song, and dance--the 'pride of life'--is also said to have been aided in entering paradise by the peacock, which he flattered. [ ] this fable, though later than the era of mohammed in form, is as ancient as the myth of eden in substance. the germ of it is already in the belief that jehovah separated from the rest of the earth a garden, and from the human world a family of his own, and from the week a day of his own. the reply of the elect to the proud gentile aristocracy was an ascetic caste established by covenant with the king of kings. this attitude of the pious caste turned the barbaric aristocrats, in a sense, to democrats. indeed samaël, in whom the execrated dukes of edom were ideally represented, might be almost described as the democratic devil. according to an early jewish legend, jehovah, having resolved to separate 'men' (i.e., jews) from 'swine' (i.e., idolaters, gentiles), made circumcision the seal on them as children of abraham. there having been, however, jews who were necessarily never circumcised, their souls, it was arranged, should pass at death into the forms of certain sacred birds where they would be purified, and finally united to the elect in paradise. now, samaël, or adam belial as he was sometimes called, is said to have appealed to the creator that this arrangement should include all races of beings. 'lord of the world!' he said, 'we also are of your creation. thou art our father. as thou savest the souls of israel by transforming them that they may be brought back again and made immortal, so also do unto us! why shouldst thou regard the seed of abraham before us?' jehovah answered, 'have you done the same that abraham did, who recognised me from his childhood and went into chaldean fire for love of me? you have seen that i rescued him from your hands, and from the fiery oven which had no power over him, and yet you have not loved and worshipped me. henceforth speak no more of good or evil.' [ ] the old rabbinical books which record this conversation do not report samaël's answer; nor is it necessary: that answer was given by jesus and paul breaking down the partitions between jew and gentile. it was quite another thing, however, to include the world morally. jesus, it would seem, aimed at this also; he came 'eating and drinking,' and the orthodox said samaël was in him. personally, he declined to substitute even the cosmopolitan rite of baptism for the discredited national rite of circumcision. but paul was of another mind. his pharisaism was spiritualised and intensified in his new faith, to which the great world was all an adversary. it was a tremendous concession, this giving up of the gay and beautiful world, with its mirth and amusements, its fine arts and romance--to the devil. unswerving nemesis has followed that wild theorem in many forms, of which the most significant is asmodeus. asmodäus, or aêshma-daêva of the zend texts, the modern persian khasm, is etymologically what carlyle might call 'the god wish;' aêsha meaning 'wish,' from the sanskrit root ish, 'to desire.' an almost standing epithet of aêshma is khrvîdra, meaning apparently 'having a hurtful weapon or lance.' he is occasionally mentioned immediately after anrô-mainyus (ahriman); sometimes is expressly named as one of his most prominent supporters. in the remarkable combat between ahuro-mazda (ormuzd) and anrô-mainyus, described in zam. y. , the good deity summons to his aid vohumano, ashavahista, and fire; while the evil one is aided by akômano, aêshma, and aji-daháka. [ ] here, therefore, aêshma appears as opposed to ashavahista, 'supreme purity' of the lord of fire. aêshma is the spirit of the lower or impure fire, lust and wrath. a sanskrit text styles him kossa-deva, 'the god of wrath.' in yaçna , , sraosha, aêshma's opponent, is invoked to shield the faithful 'in both worlds from death the violent, from aêshma the violent, from the hosts of violence that raise aloft the terrible banner--from the assaults of aêshma that he makes along with vídátu ('divider, destroyer'), the demon-created.' he is thus the leading representative of dissolution, the fatal power of ahriman. ormuzd is said to have created sraosha to be the destroyer of 'aêshma of the fatal lance.' sraosha ('the hearer') is the moral vanquisher of aêshma, in distinction from haoma, who is his chief opponent in the physical domain. such, following windischmann, [ ] is the origin of the devil whom the apocryphal book of tobit has made familiar in europe as asmodeus. aschmedai, as the jews called him, appears in this story as precisely that spirit described in the avesta--the devil of violence and lust, whose passion for sara leads him to slay her seven husbands on their wedding-night. the devils of lust are considered elsewhere, and asmodeus among them; there is another aspect of him which here concerns us. he is a fastidious devil. he will not have the object of his passion liable to the embrace of any other. he cannot endure bad smells, and that raised by the smoke of the fish-entrails burnt by tobit drives him 'into the utmost parts of egypt, where the angel bound him.' it is, however, of more importance to read the story by the light of the general reputation of aschmedai among the jews and arabians. it was notably that of the devil represented in the moslem tradition at the beginning of this chapter. he is the eastern don giovanni and lothario; he plies noah and solomon with wine, and seduces their wives, and always aims high with his dashing intrigues. he would have cried amen to luther's lines-- who loves not wine, woman, and song, he lives a fool his whole life long. besides being an aristocrat, he is a scholar, the most learned master of arts, educated in the great college of hell, founded by asa and asael, as elsewhere related. he was fond of gaming; and so fashionable that calmet believed his very name signifies fine dress. now, the moral reflections in the book of tobit, and its casual intimations concerning the position of the persons concerned, show that they were jewish captives of the humblest working class, whose religion is of a type now found chiefly among the more ignorant sectarians. tobit's moral instructions to his son, 'in pride is destruction and much trouble, and in lewdness is decay and much want,' 'drink not wine to make thee drunken,' and his careful instructions about finding wealth in the fear of god, are precisely such as would shape a devil in the image of asmodeus. tobit's moral truisms are made falsities by his puritanism: 'prayer is good with fasting and alms and righteousness;' 'but give nothing to the wicked;' 'if thou serve god he will repay thee.' 'cakes and ale' do not cease to exist because tobits are virtuous; but unfortunately they may be raised from their subordinate to an insubordinate place by the transfer of religious restraints to the hands of ignorance and cant. asmodeus, defined against persian and jewish asceticism and hypocrisy, had his attractions for men of the world. through him the devil became perilously associated with wit, gallantry, and the one creed of youth which is not at all consumptive-- grey is all theory, green life's golden-fruited tree! especially did asmodeus represent the subordination of so-called 'religious' and tribal distinctions to secular considerations. as samaël had petitioned for an extension of the abrahamic covenant to all the world and failed to secure it from jehovah, asmodeus proposed to disregard the distinction. there is much in the book of tobit which looks as if it were written especially with the intention of persuading jewish youth, tempted by babylonians to marriage, that their lovers might prove to be succubi or incubi. tobit implores his son to marry in his own tribe, and not take a 'strange woman.' asmodeus was as cosmopolitan as the god of love himself, and many of his uglier early characteristics were hidden out of sight by such later developments. gustave doré has painted in his vivid way the 'triumph of christianity.' in it we see the angelic hosts with drawn swords overthrowing the forms adored of paganism--hurling them headlong into an abyss. so far as the battle and victory go, this is just the conception which an early christian would have had of what took place through the advent of christ. it filled their souls with joy to behold by faith's vision those draped angels casting down undraped goddesses; they would delight to imagine how the fall might break the bones of those beautiful limbs. for they never thought of these gods and goddesses as statues, but as real seductive devils; and when these christians had brought over the arts, they often pictured the black souls coming out of these fair idols as they fell. doré may have tried to make the angels as beautiful as the goddesses, but he has not succeeded. in this he has interpreted the heart behind every deformity which was ever added to a pagan deity. the horror of the monks was transparent homage. why did they starve and scourge their bodies, and roll them in thorns? because not even by defacing the beautiful images were they able to expel from their inward worship the lovely ideals they represented. it is not difficult now to perceive that the old monks were consigning the pagan ideals to imaginary and themselves to actual hells, in full hope of thereby gaining permanent possession of the same beauty abjured on earth. the loveliness of the world was transient. they grew morbid about death; beneath the rosiest form they saw the skeleton. the heavenly angels they longed for were venuses and apollos, with no skeletons visible beneath their immortalised flesh. they never made sacrifices for a disembodied heaven. the force of self-crucifixion lay in the creed--'i believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.' the world could not generally be turned into a black procession at its own funeral. in proportion to the conquests of christianity must be its progressive surrender to the unconquerable--to human nature. aphrodite and eros, over whose deep graves nunneries and monasteries had been built, were the first to revive, and the story, as mr. pater has told it, is like some romantic version of ishtar's descent into hades and her resurrection. [ ] while as yet the earth seemed frostbound, long before the renaissance, the song of the turtle was heard in the ballad of aucassin and nicolette. the christian knight will marry the beautiful saracen, and to all priestly warnings that he will surely go to hell, replies, 'what could i do in paradise? i care only to go where i can be with nicolette. who go to paradise? old priests, holy cripples, dried-up monks, who pass their lives before altars. i much prefer hell, where go the brave, the gay, and beautiful. there will be the players on harps, the classic poets and singers; and there i shall not be parted from nicolette!' along with pretty saracen maidens, or memories of them, were brought back into europe legends of asmodeus. aphrodite and eros might disguise themselves in his less known and less anathematised name, so that he could manage to sing of his love for sara, of parsi for jewess, under the names of christian aucassin and saracen nicolette. in the eastern church he reappeared also. there are beautiful old pictures which show the smart cavalier, feather-in-cap, on the youth's left, while on his right stands 'grey theory' in the form of a long-bearded friar. such pictures, no doubt, taught for many a different lesson from that intended--namely, that the beat of the heart is on the left. where st. benedict rolled himself in thorns for dreaming of his (deserted) 'nicolette,' st. francis planted roses; and the latin church had to recognise this evolution of seven centuries. they hid the thorns in the courts of convents, and sold the roses to the outside world as indulgences. but as asmodeus had not respected the line between jew and gentile in nineveh, so he passed over that between priest, nun, and worldling in the west. in the days of witchcraft the church was scandalised by the rumour that the nuns of the franciscan convent of louviers had largely taken to sorcery, and were attending the terrible 'witches' sabbaths.' the nun most prominent in this affair was one madeleine bavent. the priests announced that she had confessed that she was borne away to the orgies by the demon asmodeus, and that he had induced her to profane the sacred host. it turned out that the nuns had engaged in intrigues with the priests who had charge of them--especially with fathers david, picard, and boulé--but asmodeus was credited with the crime, and the nuns were punished for it. madeleine was condemned to life-long penance, and picard anticipated the fire by a suicide, in which he was said to have been assisted by the devil. following the rabbinical tradition which represented him as continually passing from the high infernal college of asa and asael to the earth to apply his arts of sorcery, asmodeus gained a respectable position in european literature through the romance of le sage ('le diable boiteux'), and his fame so gained did much to bring about in france that friendly feeling for the devil which has long been a characteristic of french literature. a very large number of books, periodicals, and journals in france have gained popularity through the devil's name. asmodeus was, in fact, the arch-bohemian. as such, he largely influenced the conception of mephistopheles as rendered by goethe--himself the prince of bohemians. the old horror of asmodeus for bad smells is insulted in the name mephistopheles, and this devil is many rolled into one; yet in many respects his kinship to asmodeus is revealed. all the dried starveling anthonys and benedicts are, in a cultured way, present in the theologian and scholar faust; all the sweet ladies that haunted their seclusion became realistic in gretchen. she is the nemesis of suppressed passions. one province of nature after another has been recovered from asceticism. in this case ishtar has had to regain her apparel and ornaments at successive portals that are centuries, and they are not all recovered yet. but we have gone far enough, even in puritanised england, to produce a 'madman' far-seeing enough to behold the marriage of heaven and hell. the case of asmodeus is stated well, albeit radically, by william blake, in that proverb which was told him by the devils, whom he alone of midnight travellers was shrewd enough to consult: 'the pride of the peacock is the glory of god; the lust of the goat is the bounty of god; the wrath of the lion is the wisdom of god.' when that statement is improved, as it well may be, it will be when those who represent religion shall have learned that human like other nature is commanded by obedience. in this connection may be mentioned a class of legends indicating the devil's sensitiveness with regard to his personal appearance. the anxiety of the priests and hermits to have him represented as hideous was said to have been warmly resented by satan, one of the most striking being the legend of many versions concerning a sacristan, who was also an artist, who ornamented an abbey with a devil so ugly that none could behold it without terror. it was believed he had by inspiration secured an exact portrait of the archfiend. the devil appeared to the sacristan, reproached him with having made him so ugly, and threatened to punish him grievously if he did not make him better looking. although this menace was thrice repeated, the sacristan refused to comply. the devil then tempted him into an intrigue with a lady of the neighbourhood, and they eloped after robbing the abbey of its treasure. but they were caught, and the sacristan imprisoned. the devil then appears and offers to get him out of his trouble if he will only destroy the ugly likeness, and make another and handsomer. the sacristan consented, and suddenly found himself in bed as if nothing had happened, while the devil in his image lay in chains. the devil when discovered vanished; the sacristan got off on the theory that crimes and all had been satanic juggles. but the sacristan took care to substitute a handsome devil for the ugly one. in another version the sacristan remained faithful to his original portraiture of the devil despite all menaces of the latter, who resolved to take a dire revenge. while the artist was completing his ornamentation of the abbey with an image of the virgin, made as beautiful as the fiend near it was ugly, the devil broke the ladder on which he was working, and a fatal fall was only prevented by the hand of the madonna he had just made, which was outstretched to sustain him. the accompanying picture of this scene (fig. ) is from 'queen mary's psalter' in the british museum. vasari relates that when spinello of arezzo, in his famous fresco of the fall of the rebellious angels, had painted the hideous devil with seven faces about his body, the fiend appeared to him in the same form, and asked the artist where he had seen him in so frightful an aspect, and why he had treated him so ignominiously. when spinello awoke in horror, he fell into a state of gloom, and soon after died. the persian poet sádi has a remarkable passage conceived in the spirit of these legends, but more kindly. i saw the demon in a dream, but how unlike he seemed to be to all of horrible we dream, and all of fearful that we see. his shape was like a cypress bough, his eyes like those that houris wear, his face as beautiful as though the rays of paradise were there. i near him came, and spoke--'art thou,' i said, 'indeed the evil one? no angel has so bright a brow, such yet no eye has looked upon. why should mankind make thee a jest, when thou canst show a face like this? fair as the moon in splendour drest, an eye of joy, a smile of bliss! the painter draws thee vile to sight, our baths thy frightful form display; they told me thou wert black as night, behold, thou art as fair as day!' the lovely vision's ire awoke, his voice was loud and proud his mien: 'believe not, friend!' 'twas thus he spoke, 'that thou my likeness yet hast seen: the pencil that my portrait made was guided by an envious foe; in paradise i man betrayed, and he, from hatred, paints me so.' boehme relates that when satan was asked the cause of god's enmity to him and his consequent downfall, he replied, 'i wished to be an artist.' there is in this quaint sentence a very true intimation of the allurements which, in ancient times, the arts of the gentile possessed for the jews and christian judaisers. indeed, a similar feeling towards the sensuous attractions of the catholic and ritualistic churches is not uncommon among the prosaic and puritanical sects whose younger members are often thus charmed away from them. dr. donne preached a sermon before oliver cromwell at whitehall, in which he affirmed that the muses were damned spirits of devils; and the discussion on the drama which occurred at sheffield church congress ( ), following dr. bickerstith's opening discourse on 'the devil and his wiles,' shows that the low church wing cherishes much the same opinion as that of dr. donne. the dread of the theatre among some sects amounts to terror. the writer remembers the horror that spread through a large wesleyan circle, with which he was connected, when a distinguished minister of that body, just returned from europe, casually remarked that 'the theatre at rome seemed to be poorly supported.' the fearful confession spread through the denomination, and it was understood that the observant traveller had 'made shipwreck of faith.' the methodist instinct told true: the preacher became an accomplished gentile. music made its way but slowly in the church, and the suspicion of it still lingers among many sects. the quakers took up the burthen of epiphanius who wrote against the flute-players, 'after the pattern of the serpent's form has the flute been invented for the deceiving of mankind. observe the figure that the player makes in blowing his flute. does he not bend himself up and down to the right hand and to the left, like unto the serpent? these forms hath the devil used to manifest his blasphemy against things heavenly, to destroy things upon earth, to encompass the world, capturing right and left such as lend an ear to his seductions.' the unregenerate birds that carol all day, be it sabbath or fast, have taught the composer that his best inspiration is from the prince of the air. tartini wrote over a hundred sonatas and as many concertos, but he rightly valued above them all his 'sonata del diavolo.' concerning this he wrote to the astronomer lalande:--'one night, in the year , i dreamed that i had made a compact with his satanic majesty, by which he was received into my service. everything succeeded to the utmost of my desires, and my every wish was anticipated by my new domestic. i thought that, in taking up my violin to practise, i jocosely asked him if he could play on this instrument. he answered that he believed he was able to pick out a tune; when, to my astonishment, he began a sonata, so strange, and yet so beautiful, and executed in so masterly a manner, that in the whole course of my life i had never heard anything so exquisite. so great was my amazement that i could scarcely breathe. awakened by the violence of my feelings, i instantly seized my violin, in the hope of being able to catch some part of the ravishing melody which i had just heard, but all in vain. the piece which i composed according to my scattered recollections is, it is true, the best i ever produced. i have entitled it, 'sonata del diavolo;' but it is so far inferior to that which had made so forcible an impression on me, that i should have dashed my violin into a thousand pieces, and given up music for ever in despair, had it been possible to deprive myself of the enjoyments which i receive from it.' the fire and originality of tartini's great work is a fine example of that power which timoleon called automatia, and goethe the dämonische,--'that which cannot be explained by reason or understanding; it is not in my nature, but i am subject to it.' 'it seems to play at will with all the elements of our being.' the puritans brought upon england and america that relapse into the ancient asceticism which was shown in the burning of great pictures by cromwell's parliament. it is shown still in the jealousy with which the puritanised mind in both countries views all that aims at the simple decoration of life, and whose ministry is to the sense of beauty. on that day of the week when england and new england hebraise, as matthew arnold says, it is observable that the sabbatarian fury is especially directed against everything which proposes to give simple pleasure or satisfy the popular craving for beauty. sabbatarianism sees a great deal of hard work going on, but is not much troubled so long as it is ugly and dismal work. it utters no cry at the thousands of hands employed on sunday railways, but is beside itself if one of the trains takes excursionists to the seaside, and is frantic at the thought of a comparatively few persons being employed on that day in museums and art galleries. it is a survival of the old feeling that the devil lurks about all beauty and pleasure. a money-making age has measurably dispersed the superstitions which once connected the devil with all great fortunes. for a long time, and in many regions of the world, the jews suffered grievously by being supposed to get their wealth by the devil's help. their wealth (largely the result of their not exchanging it for worldly enjoyments) so often proved their misfortune, that it was easy to illustrate by their case the monkish theory that devil's gifts turn to ashes. princes were indefatigable in relieving the jews of such ashes, however. the lords of triar, who possessed the mines of glucksbrunn, were believed to have been guided to them by a gold stag which often appeared to them--of course the devil. it is related that when st. wolfram went to convert the frislanders, their king, radbot, was prevented from submitting to baptism by a diabolical deception. the devil appeared to him as an angel clothed in a garment woven of gold, on his head a jewelled diadem, and said, 'bravest of men! what has led thee to depart from the prince of thy gods? do it not; be steadfast to thy religion and thou shalt dwell in a house of gold which i will give into thy possession to all eternity. go to wolfram to-morrow, ask him about those bright dwellings he promises thee. if he cannot show them, let both parties choose an ambassador; i will be their leader and will show them the gold house i promise thee.' st. wolfram being unable to show radbot the bright dwellings of paradise, one of his deacons was sent along with a representative of the king, and the devil (disguised as a traveller) took them to the house of gold, which was of incredible size and splendour. the deacon exclaimed, 'if this house be made by god it will stand for ever; if by the devil, it must vanish speedily.' whereupon he crossed himself; the house vanished, and the deacon found himself with the frislander in a swamp. it took them three days to extricate themselves and return to king radbot, whom they found dead. the ascetic principle which branded the arts, interests, pursuits, and pleasures of the world as belonging to the domain of satan, involved the fatal extreme of including among the outlawed realms all secular learning. the scholar and man of science were also declared to be inspired by the 'pride of life.' but this part of our subject requires a separate chapter. chapter xxiii. the curse on knowledge. a bishop on intellect--the bible on learning--the serpent and seth--a hebrew renaissance--spells--shelley at oxford-- book-burning--japanese ink-devil--book of cyprianus--devil's bible--red letters--dread of science--roger bacon--luther's devil--lutherans and science. in lucas van leyden's picture of satan tempting christ (fig. ), the fiend is represented in the garb of a university man of the time. from his head falls a streamer which coils on the ground to a serpent. from that serpent to the sceptical scholar demanding a miracle the evolution is fully traceable. the serpent, of old the 'seer,' was in its semitic adaptation a tempter to forbidden knowledge. this was the earliest priestly outcry against 'godless education.' during the shakespere tercentenary festival at stratford-on-avon, the bishop of st. andrews declared that there is not a word in the bible warranting homage to intellect, and such a boast beside the grave of the most intellectual of englishmen is in itself a survival illustrating the tremendous curse hurled by jealous jehovah on man's first effort to obtain knowledge. that same serpent of knowledge has passed very far, and his curse has many times been repeated. in the accadian poem of the fatal seven, as we have seen, it is said, 'in watching was their office;' and the assyrian version says, 'unto heaven that which was not seen they raised.' on the babylonian cylinders is inscribed the curse of the god of intelligence (hea) upon man--'wisdom and knowledge hostilely may they injure him.' [ ] the same serpent twined round the staff of Æsculapius and whispered those secrets which made the gods jealous, so that jove killed the learned physician with a flash of lightning. its teeth were sown when cadmus imported the alphabet into greece; and when these alphabetical dragon's-teeth had turned to type, the ancient curse was renewed in legends which connected fust with the devil. the hebrews are least among races responsible for the legend which has drifted into genesis. nor was the bishop's boast about their bible correct. the homage paid to solomon was hardly on account of his moral character. 'he spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that is in lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall; he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes.' [ ] while the curse on man for eating the fruit of knowledge is never quoted in the hebrew scriptures, there are many indications of their devotion to knowledge; and their prophets even heard jehovah saying, 'my people are destroyed through lack of knowledge.' it is not wonderful, therefore, that we find among the jews the gradual growth of a legend concerning seth, which may be regarded as a reply to the curse on the serpent. the apotheosis of seth in rabbinical and mussulman mythology represents a sort of semitic renaissance. as we have seen in a former chapter, the egyptians and greeks identified set with typhon, but at the same time that demon was associated with science. he is astronomically located in capricorn, the sphere of the hierophants in the egyptian mysteries, and the mansion of the guardians of science. thus he would correspond with the serpent, who, as adapted by the hebrews in the myth of eden, whispers to eve of divine knowledge. but, as detached from typho, seth, while leaving behind the malignancy, carried away the reputation for learning usually ascribed to devils. thus, while we have had to record so many instances of degraded deities, we may note in seth a converted devil. in the mussulman and rabbinical traditions seth is a voluminous author; he receives a library from heaven; he is the originator of astronomy and of many arts; and, as an instructor in cultivation, he restores many an acre which as set he had blighted. in the apocryphal genesis he is represented as having been caught up to heaven and shown the future destiny of mankind. anastasius of sinai says that when god created adam after his own image, he breathed into him grace and illumination, and a ray of the holy spirit. but when he had sinned this glory left him. then he became the father of cain and abel. but afterwards it is said adam 'begat a son in his own likeness, after his image, and called his name 'seth,' which is not said of cain and abel; and this means that seth was begotten in the likeness of unfallen man in paradise--seth meaning 'resurrection.' and all those then living, when they saw how the face of seth shone with divine light, and heard him speak with divine wisdom, said, he is god; therefore his sons were commonly called the sons of god. [ ] that this 'resurrection' of departed glory and wisdom was really, as i have said, a renaissance--a restoration of learning from the curse put upon it in the story of the serpent--is indicated by its evolution in the gnostic myth wherein seth was made to avenge satan. he took under his special care the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and planted it in his father's grave (fig. ). rabbins carried their homage to seth even to the extent of vindicating saturn, the most notorious of planets, and say that abraham and the prophets were inspired by it. [ ] the dog (jackal) was, in egyptian symbols, emblem of the scribe; sirius was the dog-star domiciled with saturn; seth was by them identified with sirius, as the god of occult and infernal knowledge. he was near relative of the serpent sesha, familiar of Æsculapius, and so easily connected with the subtlest of the beasts in eden which had crept in from the iranian mythology. this reaction was instituted by scholars, who, in their necessarily timid way of fable, may be said to have recovered the tree of knowledge under guise of homage to seth. it flourished, as we have seen (chap. xi.), to the extent of finally raising the serpent to be a god, and lowering jehovah who cursed him to a jealous devil! but the terror with which jehovah is said to have been inspired when he said, 'the man has become as one of us, to know good and evil,' never failed to reappear among priesthoods when anything threatened to remove the means of learning from under their control. the causes of this are too many to be fully considered here; but the main cause unquestionably was the tendency of learning to release men from the sway of the priest. the primitive man of science would speedily discover how many things existed of which his priest was ignorant, and thus the germ of scepticism would be planted. the man who possessed the sacred books, in whole or in part, might become master of the 'spells' supposed to be contained in its words and sentences, and might use them against the priests; or, at any rate, he might feel independent of the ordinary apparatus of salvation. the anxiety of priests to keep fast hold of the keys of learning, so that no secular son of adam should become 'as one of them,' coupled with the wonderful powers they professed ability to exercise, powerfully stimulated the curiosity of intellectual men, and led them to seek after this forbidden fruit in subtle ways, which easily illustrated the story of the serpent. the poet shelley, who was suspected at oxford because of his fondness for chemistry, recognised his mythological ancestry, and used to speak of 'my cousin, the serpent.' the joke was born of circumstances sufficiently scandalous in the last generation to make the oxonian of to-day blush; but the like histories of earlier ages are so tragical that, when fully known by the common people, they will change certain familiar badges into brands of shame. while the cant goes on about the church being the protector of learning through the dark ages, the fact is that, from the burning of valuable books at ephesus by christian fanatics (acts xix. ) to the present day, the church has destroyed tenfold more important works than it ever produced, and almost suffocated the intellectual life of a thousand years. amid the unbroken persecution of the jews by christian cruelty, which lasted from the early eleventh century for five hundred years, untold numbers of manuscripts were destroyed, which might have now been giving the world full and clear knowledge concerning ages, for whose records archæological scholars are painfully exploring the crumbled ruins of the east. synagogues were believed to be temples of satan; they were plundered and razed to the ground, and their precious archives strewed the streets of many cities. on the th of june twenty-four cartloads of these ancient mss. were burned in paris alone. "and all this by our holy 'protector of learning' through the middle ages! the japanese have pictures of a famous magician who conjured up a demon--vast, vague, and terrible--out of his inkstand. they call it latterly 'emblem of a licentious press,' but, no doubt, it was originally used to terrify the country generally concerning the press. that devil has also haunted the ecclesiastical imagination in europe. nearly every book written without priestly command was associated with the devil, and there are several old books in europe, laboriously and honestly written, which to this day are invested with popular superstitions reporting the denunciations with which they were visited. for some centuries it has been believed in denmark and neighbouring countries that a strange and formidable book exists, by means of which you can raise or lay the devil. it is vulgarly known as the book of cyprianus. the owner of it can neither sell, bury, or burn it, and if he cannot get rid of it before his death, he becomes the prey of the fiend. the only way of getting rid of it is to find somebody who will accept it as a present, well knowing what it is. cyprianus is said to have been a clever and virtuous young student, but he studied the black art in norway, and came under the power of the devil, who compelled him to use his unholy learning to evil ends. this grieved him sorely, and he wrote a book, in which he shows first, how evil shall be done, and then how to counteract it. the book is probably one which really exists or existed, and professed to teach the art of sorcery, and likewise the charms against it. it consists of three parts, severally called cyprianus, dr. faust, and jacob ramel. the two latter are written in cypher. it teaches everything appertaining to 'signing,' conjuring, second sight, and all the charms alluded to in deuteronomy xviii. - . the person possessing cyprianus' book is said never to be in need of money, and none can harm him. the only way of getting rid of it is to put it away in a secret place in a church along with a clerk's fee of four shillings. in stockholm i saw the so-called devil's bible, the biggest book in the world, in the royal library. it is literally as they describe it, 'gigas librorum': no single man can lift it from the floor. it was part of the booty carried off by the swedes after the surrender of prague, a.d. . it contains three hundred parchment leaves, each one made of an ass's hide, the cover being of oak planks, / inches thick. it contains the old and new testaments; josephi flavii antiquitates judaicæ; isidori episcopi l. xx. de diversis materiis; confessio peccatorum; and some other works. the last-named production is written on black and dark brown ground with red and yellow letters. here and there sentences are marked 'hæc sunt suspecta,' 'superstitiosa,' 'prohibita.' one ms., which is headed, 'experimentum de furto et febribus', is a treatise in monkish latin on the exorcism of ghosts and evil spirits, charms against thieves and sickness, and various prescriptions in 'white magic.' the age of the book is considerably over three hundred years. the autograph of a german emperor is in it: 'ferdinandus imperator romanorum, a.d. .' the volume is known in sweden as fan's bibel (devil's bible). the legend says, that a monk, suspected of black arts, who had been condemned to death, begged for life, and his judge mockingly told him that he would be pardoned only if he should produce next morning all the books here found and in this vast size. the monk invoked the devil's assistance, and the ponderous volume was written in a single night. this devil must have been one who prided himself more on his literary powers than his personal appearance; for the face and form said to be his portrait, frontispiece of the volume, represent a most hideous ape, green and hairy, with horrible curled tusks. it is, no doubt, the ape anerhahn of the wagner legends; burns's 'towzie tyke, black, grim, and large.' [ ] i noticed particularly in this old work the recurrence of deep red letters and sentences similar to the ink which fust used at the close of his earliest printed volumes to give his name, with the place and date of printing. now red is sacred in one direction as symbolising the blood of christ, but it is also the colour of judas, who betrayed that blood. hence, while red letters might denote sacred days and sentences in priestly calendars, they might be supposed mimicry of such sanctities by 'god's ape' if occurring in secular works or books of magic. it is said that these red letters were especially noted in paris as indications of the diabolical origin of the works so easily produced by fust; and, though it is uncertain whether he suffered imprisonment, the red lines with his name appear to have been regarded as his signature in blood. for a long time every successive discovery of science, every invention of material benefit to man, was believed by priest-ridden peoples to have been secured by compact with the devil. the fate of the artist prometheus, fettered by jealous jove, was repeated in each who aspired to bring light to man, and some men of genius--such as cornelius agrippa, and paracelsus--appear to have been frightened away from legitimate scientific research by the first connection of their names with sorcery. they had before them the example of the greatest scientific man of the middle ages, roger bacon, and knew how easily, in the priestly whisper, the chemist's crucible grew to a wizard's cauldron. the time may come when oxford university will have learned enough to build a true memorial of the grandest man who ever wrote and taught within its walls. it would show roger bacon--rectifier of the julian calendar, analyst of lenses, inventor of spectacles and achromatic lenses, probable constructor of the first telescope, demonstrator of the chemical action of air in combustion, inventor of the mode of purifying saltpetre and crystallising it into gunpowder, anticipator of the philosophical method with which his namesake is credited--looking on a pile of his books for whose researches he had paid two thousand french livres, to say nothing of a life's labour, only to see them condemned by his university, their circulation prohibited; and his sad gaze might be from the prison to which the council of franciscans at paris sentenced him whom oxford gladly delivered into their hands. he was condemned, says their historian wadding, 'propter novitates quasdam suspectas.' the suspected novelties were crucibles, retorts, and lenses that made the stars look larger. so was it with the oxford six hundred years ago. undeniably some progress had been made even in the last generation, for shelley was only forbidden to study chemistry, and expelled for his metaphysics. but now that it is claimed that oxford is no longer partaker with them that stoned investigators and thinkers from bacon to shelley, it would be in order to build for its own great martyr of science a memorial, that superstition may look on one whom it has pierced. referring to luther's inkstand thrown at the devil, dr. zerffii, in his lecture on the devil, says, 'he (the devil) hates nothing so much as writing or printer's ink.' but the truth of this remark depends upon which of two devils be considered. it would hardly apply to the serpent who recommended the fruit of knowledge, or to the university man in lucas van leyden's picture (fig. ). but if we suppose the devil of luther's bible (fig. ) to be the one at which the inkstand was thrown, the criticism is correct. the two pictures mentioned may be instructively compared. luther's devil is the reply of the university to the church. these are the two devils--the priest and the scholar--who glared at each other in the early sixteenth century. 'the devil smelled the roast,' says luther, 'that if the languages revived, his kingdom would get a hole which he could not easily stop again.' and it must be admitted that some of the monkish execrations of the time, indeed of many times since, have an undertone of jahvistic jealousy. 'these knowers will become as one of us.' it must also be admitted that the clerical instinct told true: the university man held in him that sceptical devil who is always the destroyer of the priest's paradise. these two devils which struggled with each other through the sixteenth century still wage their war in the arena of protestantism. many a lutheran now living may remember to have smiled when hofmann's experiments in discovering carbonic acid gas gained him repute for raising again mephosto; but perhaps they did not recognise luther's devil when, at the annual assembly of lutheran pastors in berlin (sept. ), he reappeared as the rev. professor grau, and said, 'not a few listen to those striving to combine christ with belial, to reconcile redeeming truth with modern science and culture.' but though they who take the name of luther in vain may thus join hands with the devil, at whom the reformer threw his inkstand, the combat will still go on, and the university belial do the brave work of bel till beneath his feet lies the dragon of darkness whether disguised as pope or protestant. if the church wishes to know precisely how far the roughness pardonable in the past survives unpardonably in itself, let its clergy peruse carefully the following translation by mr. leland of a poem by heine; and realise that the devil portrayed in it is, by grace of its own prelates, at present the most admired personage in every court and fashionable drawing-room in christendom. i called the devil, and he came: in blank amaze his form i scan. he is not ugly, is not lame, but a refined, accomplished man,-- one in the very prime of life, at home in every cabinet strife, who, as diplomatist, can tell church and state news extremely well. he is somewhat pale--and no wonder either, since he studies sanskrit and hegel together. his favourite poet is still fonqué. of criticism he makes no mention, since all such matters unworthy attention he leaves to his grandmother, hecaté. he praised my legal efforts, and said that he also when younger some law had read, remarking that friendship like mine would be an acquisition, and bowed to me,-- then asked if we had not met before, at the spanish minister's soiree? and, as i scanned his face once more, i found i had known him for many a day. chapter xxiv. witchcraft. minor gods--saint and satyr--tutelaries--spells--early christianity and the poor--its doctrine as to pagan deities--mediæval devils--devils on the stage--an abbot's revelations--the fairer deities--oriental dreams and spirits--calls for nemesis--lilith and her children--neoplatonicism--astrology and alchemy--devil's college--shem-hammphorásch--apollonius of tyana--faustus--black art schools--compacts with the devil--blood-covenant--spirit-seances in old times--the fairfax delusion--origin of its devil--witch, goat, and cat--confessions of witches--witchcraft in new england--witch trials--salem demonology--testing witches--witch trials in sweden--witch sabbath--mythological elements--carriers--scotch witches--the cauldron--vervain--rue--invocation of hecaté--factors of witch persecution--three centuries of massacre--würzburg horrors--last victims--modern spiritualism. st. cyprian saw the devil in a flower. [ ] that little vision may report more than many more famous ones the consistency with which the first christians had developed the doctrine that nature is the incarnation of the evil spirit. it reports to us the sense of many sounds and sights which were heard and seen by ears and eyes trained for such and no other, all showing that the genii of nature and beauty were vanishing from the earth. over the Ægean sea were heard lamentations and the voice, 'great pan is dead!' augustus consults the oracle of apollo and receives reply-- me puer hebræus, divos deus ipse gubernans, cedere sede jubet, tristremque redire sub orcum; aris ergo dehinc tacitis abscedito nostris. but while the rage of these fathers towards all the great gods and goddesses, who in their grand temples represented 'the pride of life,' was remorseless, they were comparatively indifferent to the belief or disbelief of the lower classes in their small tutelary divinities. they appear almost to have encouraged belief in these, perhaps appreciating the advantages of the popular custom of giving generous offerings to such personal and domestic patrons. at a very early period there seems to have arisen an idea of converting these more plebeian spirits into guardian angels with christian names. thus jerome relates in his life of the first hermit paul, that when st. anthony was on his way to visit that holy man, he encountered a centaur who pointed out the way; and next a human-like dwarf with horns, hooked fingers, and feet like those of a goat. st. anthony believing this to be an apparition of the devil, made the sign of the cross; but the little man, nowise troubled by this, respectfully approached the monk, and having been asked who he was, answered: 'i am a mortal, and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the gentiles in their error worship under the names of fauns, satyrs, and incubi: i am delegated by my people to ask of thee to pray for us to our common god, who we know has descended for the salvation of the world, and whose praises resound in all the earth.' at this glorification of christ st. anthony was transported with joy, and turning towards alexandria he cried, 'woe to thee, adulterous city, which adorest animals as gods!' perhaps the evolution of these desert demons into good christians would have gone on more rapidly and completely if the primitive theologians had known as much of their history as comparative mythology has disclosed to the modern world. st. anthony was, however, fairly on the track of them when he turned towards alexandria. egypt appears to have been the especial centre from which were distributed through the world the fetish guardians of provinces, towns, households and individuals. their serapes reappear in the teraphim of laban, and many of the forms they used reappear in the penates, lares, and genii of latin countries. all these in their several countries were originally related to its ancient religion or mythology, but before the christian era they were very much the same in egypt, greece, and italy. they were shaped in many different, but usually natural forms, such as serpents, dogs, boys, and old men, though often some intimation was given of their demonic character. they were so multiplied that even plants and animals had their guardians. the anthropomorphic genii called the patrii, who were supposed to preside over provinces, were generally represented bearing weapons with which they defended the regions of which they were patrons. these were the averrunci or apotropæi. there are many interesting branches of this subject which cannot be entered into here, and others have already been considered in the foregoing parts of this work. it is sufficient for my present purpose to remark, that, in the course of time, all the households of the world had traditional guardians; these were generally represented in some shape on amulets and talismans, on which were commonly inscribed the verbal charms by which the patron could be summoned. in the process of further time the amulets--especially such as were reproduced by tribes migrating from the vicinity of good engravers--might be marked only with the verbal charms; these again were, in the end, frequently represented only by some word or name. this was the 'spell.' imagination fails in the effort to conceive how many strata of extinct deities had bequeathed to the ancient egyptians those mystical names whose exact utterance they believed would constrain each god so named to appear and bind him to serve the invoker's purpose whether good or evil. [ ] this idea continued among the jews and shaped the commandment, 'thou shalt not take the name of the lord thy god in vain.' it was in these diminutive forms that great systems survived among the common people. amid natural convulsions ancient formations of faith were broken into fragments; in the ebb and flow of time these fragments were smoothed, as it were, into these talismanic pebbles. yet each of these conveyed all the virtue which had been derived from the great and costly ceremonial system from which it originally crumbled; the virtue of soothing the mind and calming the nerves of sufferers with the feeling that, though they might have been assailed by hostile powers, they had friendly powers too who were active in their behalf--vindicators, to recall job's phrase--who at last would stand by them to the end. in the further ebb and flow of generations the mass of such charms are further pulverised into sand or into mud; but not all of them: amid the mud will be found many surviving specimens, and such mud of accumulated superstitions is always susceptible of being remoulded after such lingering models, should occasion demand. erasmus, in his 'adages,' suggests that it was from these genii of 'the gentiles' that the christians derived their notion of each person being attended by two angels, a good and a bad. probably he was but half right. the peoples to whom he refers did not generally believe that each man was attended by a bad spirit, a personal enemy. that was an honour reserved for individuals particularly formidable to the evil powers,--adam, jacob, hercules, or zoroaster. the one preternatural power attending each ordinary individual defended him from the general forces of evil. but it was christianity which, in the gradual effort to substitute patron-saints and guardian-angels of its own for the pagan genii, turned the latter from friends to enemies, and their protecting into assailing weapons. all the hereditary household gods of what is now called christendom were diabolised. but in order that the masses might turn from them and invoke christian guardians, the penates, lares, and genii had to be belittled on the one hand, and the superior power of the saints and angels demonstrated. when christianity had gained the throne of political power, it was easy to show that the 'imps,' as the old guardians were now called, could no longer protect their invokers from christian punishment, or confer equal favours. christianity conquered europe by the sword, but at first that sword was not wielded against the humble masses. it was wielded against their proud oppressors. to the common people it brought glad tidings of a new order, in which, under the banner of a crucified working-man and his (alleged) peasant mother, all caste should disappear but that of piety and charity. christ eating with publicans and sinners and healing the wayside cripples reappeared in st. martin dividing his embroidered cloak with a beggar--type of a new aristocracy. they who worshipped the crucified peasant in the rock-cave of tours which st. martin had consecrated, or in little st. martin's church at canterbury where bertha was baptized, could not see the splendid cathedrals now visible from them, built of their bones and cemented with their blood. king ethelbert surrendered the temple of his idol to the consecration of augustine, and his baptized subjects had no difficulty in seeing the point of the ejected devil's talons on the wall which he assailed when the first mass was therein celebrated. glad tidings to the poor were these that the persecuted first missionaries brought to gaul, britain, and germany. but they did not last. the christians and the pagan princes, like herod and pilate, joined hands to crucify the european peasant, and he was reduced to a worse serfdom than he had suffered before. every humble home in europe was trampled in the mire in the name of christ. the poor man's wife and child, and all he possessed were victims of the workman of jerusalem turned destroyer of his brethren. michelet has well traced witchcraft to the despair of the middle ages. [ ] the decay of the old religions, which christianity had made too rapid for it to be complete, had left, as we have seen, all the trains laid for that terrible explosion; and now its own hand of cruelty brought the torch to ignite them. let us, at risk of some iteration, consider some of these combustible elements. in the first place the church had recognised the existence of the pagan gods and goddesses, not wishing to imbreed in the popular mind a sceptical habit, and also having use for them to excite terror. having for this latter purpose carved and painted them as ugly and bestial, it became further of importance that they should be represented as stupid and comparatively impotent. baptism could exorcise them, and a crucifix put thousands of them to flight. this tuition was not difficult. the peasantries of europe had readily been induced to associate the newly announced (christian) devil with their most mischievous demons. but we have already considered the forces under which these demons had entered on their decline before they were associated with satan. many conquered obstructions had rendered the demons which represented them ridiculous. hence the 'dummeteufel' of so many german fables and of the mediæval miracle-plays. 'no greater proof,' says dr. dasent, 'can be given of the small hold which the christian devil has taken of the norse mind, than the heathen aspect under which he constantly appears, and the ludicrous way in which he is always outwitted.' [ ] 'the germans,' says max müller, 'indoctrinated with the idea of a real devil, the semitic satan or diabolus, treated him in the most good-humoured manner.' [ ] a fair idea of the insignificance he and his angels reached may be gained from the accompanying picture (fig. ), with which a mediæval missal now in possession of sir joseph hooker is illuminated. it could not be expected that the masses would fear beings whom their priests thus held up to ridicule. it is not difficult to imagine the process of evolution by which the horns of such insignificant devils turned to the asinine ears of such devils as this stall carving at corbeil, near paris (fig. ), which represented the popular view of the mastery obtained by witches over devils. it must be remembered also that this power over devils was in accordance with the traditions concerning solomon, and the subserviency of oriental demons generally to the lamps or charms to which they were bound. what the popular christian devil had become in all the northern nations is sufficiently shown in the figure he presented in most of the old miracle-plays and 'moralities.' 'the devill in his fethers all ragged and rent,' [ ] had horns, wide mouth, long (sometimes up-turned) nose, red beard, cloven foot, and tail. he was attended by a buffoon called vice. 'and,' says harsenet, 'it was a pretty part in the old church playes when the nimble vice would skip up nimbly like a jackanapes into the devil's necke, and ride the devil a course, and belabour him with a wooden dagger, till he made him roar, whereat the people would laugh to see the devil so vice-haunted.' [ ] the two must have nearly resembled the clown and his unhappy victim pantaloon in our pantomimes, as to their antics. it would seem that sometimes holy personages were caricatured in the make-up of the stage-devil. thus in 'gammer gurton's needle' we have this conversation:-- gammer. but, hodge, had he no horns to push? hodge. as long as your two armes. saw ye never fryer rushe painted on cloth, with a side long cowe's tayle and crooked cloven feet, and many a hooked nayle? for all the world (if i should judge) should reckon him his brother; loke, even what face fryer rushe had, the devil had such another. in the scene of christ's delivering souls from purgatory, the devil is represented as blowing lustily a horn to alarm his comrades, and crying, 'out, out, aronzt!' to the invader. he fights with a three-pronged fork. he and his victims are painted black, [ ] in contrast with the souls of the saved, which are white. the hair was considered very important. [ ] when he went to battle, even his fiery nature was sometimes represented in a way that must have been more ludicrous than impressive. [ ] the insignificance to which the priests had reduced the devil in the plays, where they were usually the actors, reflected their own petty routine of life. they could conceive of nothing more terrible than their own mean mishaps and local obstructions. one great office of the devil was to tempt some friar to sleep when he should be at prayer, [ ] make another drink too much, or a third cast warm glances at a village beauty. the revelations of the abbot richalmus, written seven hundred years ago, shows the devil already far gone in his process of diminution. the devil here concentrates the energies which once made the earth tremble on causing nausea to the abbot, and making the choir cough while he is preaching. 'when i sit down to holy studies,' he says, 'the devils make me heavy with sleep. then i stretch my hands beyond my cuffs to give them a chill. forthwith the spirits prick me under my clothes like so many fleas, which causes me to put my hands on them; and so they get warm again, and my reading grows careless.' 'come, just look at my lip; for twenty years has an imp clung to it just to make it hang down.' it is ludicrous to find that ancient characteristic of the gods of death already adverted to--their hatred of salt, the agent of preservation--descended from being the sign of job's constancy to jehovah into a mere item of the abbot's appetite. 'when i am at dinner, and the devil has taken away my appetite, as soon as i have tasted a little salt it comes back to me; and if, shortly afterwards, i lose it again, i take some more salt, and am once more an hungered.' [ ] one dangerous element was the contempt into which, by many causes, the infernal powers had been brought. but a more dangerous one lay in another direction. though the current phrases of the new testament and of the fathers of the church, declaring this world, its wealth, loves, and pleasures, to be all the kingdom of satan, had become cant in the mouths of priests ruling over europe, it had never been cant to the humble peasantries. although they had degraded many devils imported by the priests, it had been in connection with the declining terrors of their native demonologies. but above these degraded and hated gnomes and elves, whose paternity had been transferred from soetere to satan, there was an array of beautiful deities--gentle gods and goddesses traditionally revered and loved as protectors of the home and the family--which had never really lost their hold on the common people. they might have shrunk before the aggressive victories of the saints into little fairies, but their continued love for the poor and the oppressed was the romance of every household. what did these good fairies do? they sometimes loaded the lowly with wealth, if summoned in just the right way; they sang secrets to them from trees as little birds, they smoothed the course of love, clothed ash-maidens in fine clothes, transported people through the air, enabled them to render themselves invulnerable, or invisible, to get out of prisons, to vanquish 'the powers that be,' whether 'ordained of god' or not. now all these were benefits which, by christian theory, could only be conferred by that prince of this world who ministered to 'the pride of life.' into homes which the priest and his noble had stripped of happiness and hope,--whose loving brides were for baptized bluebeards, whose hard earnings were taken as the price of salvation from devils whose awfulness was departing,--there came from afar rumours of great wealth and splendour conferred upon their worshippers by eastern gods and goddesses. the priests said all those were devils who would torture their devotees eternally after death; yet it could not be denied that the moors had the secret of lustres and ornamentation, that the heathen east was gorgeous, that all christendom was dreaming of the wealth of ormus and of ind. granted that satan had come westward and northward, joined the scurvy crew of loki, and become of little importance; but what of baal or beelzebub, of asmodeus, of the genii who built solomon's temple, of rich pluto, of august ahriman? along with stories of oriental magnificence there spread through christendom names of many deities and demons; many of them beautiful names, too, euphemism having generally managed to bestow melodious epithets alike on deities feared and loved. in faust's 'miraculous art and book of marvels, or the black raven' ( ), the infernal heirarchy are thus named:--king, lucifer; viceroy, belial; gubernatores, satan, beelzebub, astaroth, pluto; chief princes, aziel, mephistopheles, marbuel, ariel, aniguel, anisel, barfael. seductive meanings, too, corresponding to these names, had filtered in some way from the high places they once occupied into the minds of the people. lucifer was a fallen star that might rise again; belial and beelzebub were princes of the fire that rendered possible the arts of man, and the belfires never went out in the cold north; astarte meant beauty, and pluto wealth; aziel (asael) was president of the great college of occult arts, from whom solomon learned the secrets by which he made the jinni his slaves; marbuel was the artist and mechanic, sometimes believed to aid artisans who produced work beyond ordinary human skill; ariel was the fine spirit of the air whose intelligence corresponded to that of the holy ghost on the other side; aniguel is the serpent of paradise, generally written anisel; anizazel is probably a fanciful relative of azazel, 'the strong god;' and barfael, who in a later faust book is barbuel, is an orientalised form of the 'demon of the long beard' who holds the secret of the philosopher's stone. in a later chapter the growth of favourable views of the devil is considered. some of the legends therein related may be instructively read in connection with the development of witchcraft. many rumours were spread abroad of kindly assistance brought by demons to persons in distress. but even more than by hopes so awakened was the witch aided by the burning desire of the people for vengeance. they wanted zamiel (samaël) to help them to mould the bullet that would not miss its mark. the devil and all his angels had long been recognised by their catechists as being utilised by the deity to execute his vengeance on the guilty; and to serfs in their agony that devil who would not spare prince or priest was more desired than even the bestower of favours to their starving minds and bodies. under the long ages of war in europe, absorbing the energies of men, women had become the preservers of letters. the era of witchcraft in europe found that sex alone able to read and write, arts disesteemed in men, among the peasantry at least. to them men turned when it had become a priestly lesson that a few words were more potent than the weapons of princes. besides this, women were the chief sorcerers, because they were the chief sufferers. in alsace ( ), out of seventy-five who perished as witches, sixty-two were women. the famous malleus maleficorum, which did more evil than any work ever published, derives femina from fide minus. although in the faust legend mephistopheles objects to marriage, many stories represent diabolical weddings. particular details were told of the marriage of satan with the daughter of a sorceress at egnischen ( ), on which occasion the three towers of the castle there were said to have been illuminated, and a splendid banquet spread, the favourite dish being a ragout of bats. there was exquisite music, and a 'beautiful man' blessed the nuptials. how many poor peasant girls must have had such dreams as they looked up from their drudgery to the brilliant chateaux? in the illuminated manuscript known as 'queen mary's psalter' ( ) there is a picture of the fall of man (fig. ) which possesses far-reaching significance. it is a modification of that idea, which gained such wide currency in the middle ages, that it was the serpent-woman lilith who had tempted adam to eat the forbidden fruit. in this picture, while the beautiful face and ample hair of lilith are given, instead of the usual female bust she has the body of a cat. this nocturnal animal, already sacred to freyja, the teutonic venus, whose chariot it drew, gained a new mythological career in the north by the large number of southern and oriental stones which related it to the lunar and amorous demonesses. when the gods fled before the titans, diana, as ovid relates, changed herself to a cat, and as infernal hecate that animal was still beside her. if my reader will turn to vol. i. p. , some of the vast number of myths which prepared the cat to take its place as familiar of the witch may be found. whether the artist had lilith in his mind or not, the illumination in 'queen mary's psalter' represents a remarkable association of myths. for lilith was forerunner of the mediæval mothers weeping for their children; her voice of perpetual lamentation at the cruel fate allotted her by the combined tyranny of god and man was heard on every sighing wind; and she was the richly dressed bride of the prince of devils, ever seeking to tempt youth. such stories floated through the mind of the middle ages, and this infernal madonna is here seen in association with the cat, beneath whose soft sparkling fur the goddess of love and beauty was supposed to be still lurking near the fireside of many a miserable home. some fragrance of the mystical east was with this feline beauty, and nothing can be more striking than the contrast which the ordinary devils beside her present. their unseductive ugliness and meanness is placed out of sight of the pair tempted to seek the fruit of forbidden knowledge. they inspire the man and woman in their evidently eager grasping after the fruit, which here means the consultation of fair fortune-tellers and witches to obtain that occult knowledge for which speculative men are seeking in secret studies and laboratories. those who have paid attention to the subject of witchcraft need not be reminded that its complexity and vastness would require a larger volume than the present to deal with it satisfactorily. the present study must be limited to a presentation of some of the facts which induce the writer to believe that, beneath the phenomena, lay a profound alienation from christianity, and an effort to recall the banished gods which it had superseded. the first christian church was mainly jewish, and this is also to say that it inherited the vast angelolatry and the system of spells which that tribe had brought from babylon. to all this was now superadded the accumulation of assyrian and egyptian lore which was re-edited in the form of neoplatonicism. this mongrel mass, constituted of notions crumbled from many systems, acquired a certain consistency in gnosticism. the ancient egyptians had colleges set apart for astrological study, and for cultivation of the art of healing by charms. every month, decade, day of the year had its special guardian in the heavens. the popular festivals were astronomic. to the priests in the colleges were reserved study of the sacred books in which the astrological secrets were contained, and whose authorship was attributed to the god thoth, inventor of writing, the greek hermes, and, later, egyptian hermes trismegistus. the zodiac is a memorial of the influence which the stars were supposed to exert upon the human body. alchemy (the word is egyptian, kémi meaning 'black earth') was also studied in connection with solar, lunar, and stellar influences. the alchemists dreamed of discovering the philosopher's stone, which would change base metals to gold; and diocletian, in burning the alchemists' books, believed that, in so doing, he would deprive the egyptians of their source of wealth. [ ] imported into greece, these notions and their cult had a twofold development. among the platonists they turned to a naturalistic and allegorical demonology; among the uncultivated they formed a diabolarchy, which gathered around the terrible lunar phantasm--hecate. the astrological college of egypt gave to the jews their strange idea of the high school maintained among the devils, already referred to in connection with asmodeus, who was one of its leading professors. the rabbinical legend was, that two eminent angels, asa and asael, remonstrated with the creator on having formed man only to give trouble. the creator said they would have done the same as man under similar circumstances; whereupon asa and asael proposed that the experiment should be tried. they went to earth, and the creator's prediction was fulfilled: they were the first 'sons of god' who fell in love with the daughters of men (gen. vi. ). they were then embodied. in heaven they had been angels of especial knowledge in divine arts, and they now used their spells to reascend. but their sin rendered the spells powerless for that, so they repaired to the dark mountains, and there established a great college of sorcery. among the many distinguished graduates of this college were job, jethro, and bileam. it was believed that these three instructed the soothsayers who attempted to rival the miracles of moses before pharaoh. job and jethro were subsequently converted, but bileam continued his hostility to israel, and remains a teacher in the college. through knowledge of the supreme spell--the shem-hammphorásch, or real name of god--solomon was able to chain professor asmodeus, and wrest from him the secret of the worm schámir, by whose aid the temple was built. traditions of the learning of the egyptians, and of the marvels learned by solomon from asa and asael by which he compelled demons to serve him, and the impressive story of the witch of endor, powerfully influenced the inquisitive minds of europe. the fierce denunciations of all studies of these arts of sorcery by the early church would alone reveal how prevalent they were. the wonderful story of apollonius of tyana, [ ] as told by philostratus, was really a kind of gospel to the more worldly-minded scholars. some rabbins, following the outcry against jesus, 'he casteth out devils by beelzebub,' circulated at an early date the story that jesus had derived his power to work miracles from the spell shem-hammphorásch, which he found on one of the stones of the temple where solomon had left it. though eusebius cast doubt upon them, the christians generally do not appear to have denied the miracles of apollonius, which precisely copy those of jesus from the miraculous birth to the ascension, but even to have quoted them as an evidence of the possibility of miracles. celsus having attributed the miracles of jesus to sorcery, and said that magic influenced only the ignorant and immoral, origen replies that, in order to convince himself of the contrary, he has only to read the memoirs of apollonius by mæragenes, who speaks of him as a philosopher and magician, who repeatedly exercised his powers on philosophers. arnobius and the fathers of the fourth century generally believed in the apollonian thaumaturgy and attributed it to magic. aldus manutius published the book of philostratus in the fifteenth century, and the degree to which the fascinating and marvellous stories concerning apollonius fired the european imagination just awaking under the breath of the renaissance, may be estimated by the fury with which the 'magician' was anathematised by pico della mirandola, jean bodin, and baronius. the book and the controversy attracted much attention, and while the priests still continued to charge apollonius with being a 'magician,' they appear to have perceived that it would have been more to the point, so far as their real peril was concerned, to have proved him an impostor. failing that, dr. faustus and his fellow-professors in the 'black art' were left masters of the situation. the people had to digest the facts admitted, that a pagan had learned, by initiations into the astrological schools of egypt and india, the means of healing the sick, raising the dead, flying through the air, throwing off chains, opening locks, rendering himself invisible, and discerning the future. there was a call for some kind of apollonius, and faustus arose. side by side flourished luther and faustus. to roman catholic eyes they were twin sons of the devil; [ ] that they were characteristic products of one moral age and force appears to me certain, even as to-day the negations of science and the revival of 'spiritualism' have a common root in radical disbelief of the hereditary dogmas and forms of so-called religion. it is, however, not surprising that protestantism felt as much horror of its bastard brother as science has of the ghostly seances. through the early sixteenth century we can trace this strange dr. faustus ('auspicious,' he had chosen that name) going about germany, not omitting erfurth, and talking in taverns about his magic arts and powers. more is said of him in the following chapter; it is sufficient to observe here, and it is the conclusion of professor morley, who has sifted the history with his usual care, that about him, as a centre of crystallisation, tales ascribed in the first place to other conjurers arranged themselves, until he became the popular ideal of one who sought to sound the depths of this world's knowledge and enjoyments without help from the church or its god. the priests did not doubt that this could be done, nor did the protestants; they generally agreed that it could be accomplished at cost of the soul. as angels of the good god must answer to the formulas of invocation to those who had made a sacramental compact with their chief, so was it possible to share a sacrament of satan, and by certain invocations summon his infernal angels to obtain the pleasures of this world of which he is prince. a thousand years' experience of the church had left the poor ready to sign the compact if they could secure some little earthly joy. as for heaven, if it were anything like what its ministers had provided for the poor on earth, hell might be preferable after all. dr. wuttke, while writing his recent work on german superstitions, was surprised to learn that there still exist in france and in wurtemberg schools for teaching the black art. a priest in the last-named country wrote him that a boy had confessed to having passed the lower grade of such a school, but, scared by the horrid ceremonies, had pronounced some holy words which destroyed the effect of the wicked practices, and struck the assembled devil-worshippers with consternation. the boy said he had barely escaped with his life. i have myself passed an evening at a school in london 'for the development of spirit-mediums,' and possibly dr. wuttke's correspondent would describe these also as devil-worshippers. no doubt all such circles might be traced archæologically to that sorcerers' college said by the rabbins to have been kept by asa and asael. but what moral force preserved them? they do but represent a turning of methods made familiar by the church to coax benefits from other supernatural powers in the hope that they would be less dilatory than the trinity in bestowing their gifts. what is the difference between st. wolfram's god and king radbot's devil? the one offers a golden mansion on earth warranted to last through eternity, the other a like mansion in the skies receivable after death. the saint agrees that if radbot's devil can build him such a house the king would be quite right to worship the architect. the question of the comparative moral merits of the two invisible powers is not mentioned. this legend, related in a preceding chapter, is characteristic of the motives to which the priesthood appealed through the middle ages. it is no wonder that the people began to appeal to the gods of their traditional radbots, nor that they should have used the ceremonial and sacramental formulas around them. but to these were added other formulas borrowed from different sources. the 'compact with the devil' had in it various elements. it appears to have been a custom of the odinistic religion for men to sign acts of self-dedication to trusted deities, somewhat corresponding to the votive tablets of southern religion. it was a legend of odin that when dying he marked his arm with the point of a spear, and this may have been imitated. in the 'mysteries' of pagan and christian systems blood played an important part--the human blood of earlier times being symbolised by that of animals, and ultimately, among christians, in wine of the eucharist. the primitive history of this blood-covenant is given in another chapter. some astrological formulas, and many of the deities invoked, spread through europe with the jews. the actual, and quite as often fabulous, wealth of that antichristian race was ascribed to antichrist, and while christian princes thought of such gold as legitimate spoil, the honest peasants sought from their astrologers the transmitted 'key of solomon,' in virtue of which the demons served him. the famous 'compact' therefore was largely of christian-judaic origin, and only meant conveyance of the soul in consideration of precisely the same treasures as those promised by the church to all whose names were written in the lamb's book,--the only difference being in the period when redemption of the respective issues of priest and astrologer should fall due. one was payable during this life, the other after death. the ceremonial performances of witchcraft have also always existed in some form. what we are familiar with of late as spirit-seances are by no means new. more than a hundred years ago, mr. wesley and various clergymen were sitting at a table in cock lane, asking the spirit 'fanny' to rap twice if she were 'in a state of progressive happiness.' nay, a hundred years before that ( ), sir thomas chamberlain and others, sitting in a haunted house at tedworth, wilts, asked 'satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks, and no more, which it did very distinctly, and stopped.' [ ] we also learn that, in another town and case ( ), 'a naked arm and hand appeared and beat the floor.' it would not be difficult to go further back and find that the dark circle of our spiritualists with much of its apparatus has existed continuously through the middle ages. the dark seance which goethe has represented in faust, part ii., at which the spirits of helen and paris are evoked, is a very accurate picture of the 'materialisations' now exhibited by mediums, more than forty years after its publication. these outer resemblances are physiognomical. the seance of to-day has lost the darker features of its mediæval prototype, because the present has not a real and temporal, but only a speculative and sentimental despair, and this is the kind that possesses chiefly the well-to-do and idle classes. it is not difficult to meet the eye of our everyday human nature amid those frenzied periods when whole districts seemed afflicted with epidemic madness, and look deep in that eye to the fathomless heart of humanity. in an old parish register of fewston, yorkshire, are the following entries:--' . anne, daughter of edward fairfax, baptized the th june.' ' . edward fairfax, esq., a child named anne, buried the th october.' then in the history of knaresborough we read of this child, 'she was held to have died through witchcraft.' in what dreams did that child, supposed to have been snatched away by diabolic malice, return as a pure spirit uplifted in light, yet shadowed by the anxiety and pain of the bereaved family! a medium is at hand, one through whose mind and heart all the stormy electricities of the time are playing. the most distinguished representative of the fairfax family is off fighting for parliament against the king. edward fairfax is a zealous churchman. his eldest daughter, helen, aged twenty-one, is a parishioner of the rev. mr. smithson, yet she has come under the strong influence of a nonconformist preacher, mr. cook. the scholarly clergyman and his worldly church on one side, and the ignorant minister with his humble followers on the other, are unconscious personifications of vice and virtue, while between them poor helen is no heraklea. nineteen days after the burial of her little sister anne, as mentioned above, helen is found 'in a deadly trance.' after a little she begins to speak, her words showing that she is, by imagination, 'in the church at leeds, hearing a sermon by mr. cook.' on november , as she lies on her bed, helen exclaims, 'a white cat hath been long upon me and drawn my breath, and hath left in my mouth and throat so filthy a smell that it doth poison me!' next we have the following in the father's diary: 'item. upon wednesday, the th of november, she saw a black dog by her bedside, and, after a little sleep, she had an apparition of one like a young gentleman, very brave, his apparel all laid with gold lace, a hat with a golden band, and a ruff in fashion. he did salute her with the same compliment as she said sir fernandino fairfax useth when he cometh to the house and saluteth her mother.... he said he was a prince, and would make her queen of england and of all the world if she would go with him. she refused, and said, 'in the name of god, what art thou?' he presently did forbid her to name god; to which she replied, 'thou art no man if thou canst not abide the name of god; but if thou be a man, come near, let me feel of thee;' which he would not do, but said, 'it is no matter for feeling.' she proceeded, 'if thou wert a man, thou wouldst not deny to be felt; but thou art the devil, and art but a shadow.' it is possible that helen fairfax had read in shakspere's 'lear,' printed twelve years before, that the prince of darkness is a gentleman; modo he's called, and mahu. [ ] but the reader will remark how her vision anticipates that of faust, the transformation of the poodle to finely-dressed mephistopheles. on the next apparition a bit from patmos is interpolated, the devil appearing as a beast with many horns; but the folklore of yorkshire prevails, and 'presently he was like a very little dog, and desired her to open her mouth and let him come into her body, and then he would rule all the world.' lastly, he 'filled the room with fire.' in the account thus far we have the following items of ancient mythology:-- , the cat; , the dog; , the pride of life (asmodeus), represented in the fine dress and manners of the fiend; , the prince of this world, offering its throne; , the egyptian belief in potency of the name; , the hunger-demon, who dares not be felt, because his back is hollow, and, though himself a shadow, casts none; , the disembodied devil of the rabbins, who seeks to enter a human form, in order to enjoy the higher powers of which man is capable; , the fiend of fire. the period in which helen fairfax lived supplied forms for the 'materialisation' of these notions flitting from the ancient cemeteries of theology. the gay and gallant asmodeus had been transformed into a goat under the ascetic eye of europe; his mistress is a naked witch; her familiar and slave is a cat. this is the conventionalised theologic theory, as we find it in many examples, one of which is here shown (fig. ), as copied from a stone panel at the entrance of lyons cathedral. this is what helen's visions end in. she and her younger sister of seven years, and a young neighbour, a girl of twelve, who have become infected with helen's hysterics, identify six poor women as witches, and edward fairfax would have secured their execution had it not been for the clergyman smithson. cats played a large part in this as in other witch-trials. they had long been regarded as an insurance of humble households. in many regions still may be found beliefs that a three-coloured cat protects against fire; a black cat cures epilepsy, protects gardens; and in bohemia a cat is the favourite bridal gift to procure a happy wedded life. one who kills a cat has no luck for seven years. the yorkshire women called witches remembered these proverbs to their cost. among the cats regarded by the fairfaxes as familiars of the accused, some names are notable. one is called 'gibbe.' this is the icelandic gabba, to 'delude,' and our gibber; it is the 'gib' cat of reinicke fuchs, and of the 'romaunt of the rose.' in 'gammer gurton' we read, 'hath no man gelded gyb, her cat;' and in henry iv. i. , 'i am as melancholy as a gib cat.' another of the cats is called inges. that is, ignis, fire--agni maintaining his reign of terror. helen's devil hates the dissenter, and says, 'cook is a lying villain,' because cook exorcises him with a psalm. on the other hand, the devil praises the clergyman, but helen breaks out with 'he is not worthy to be a vicar who will bear with witches.' amid the religious controversies then exciting all households, mourning for his dead child, humiliated by the suspicions of his best neighbours that his daughter was guilty of deception, edward fairfax, gentleman, a scholar and author, lent an ear to the vulgar superstitions of his neighbourhood. could he have stood on the shoulders of grimm, he would have left us a very different narrative than that preserved by the philobiblion society. [ ] it is hardly possible to determine now the value of the alleged confessions of witches. they were extorted by torture or by promises of clemency (the latter rarely fulfilled); they were shaped by cross-examiners rather than by their victims; and their worth is still more impaired where, as is usual, they are not given in detail, but recorded in 'substance,' the phraseology in such case reflecting the priest's preconceived theory of witches and their orgies. it is to be feared, for instance, that 'devil' is often written instead of some name that might now be interesting. nevertheless, there seems to be ground for believing that in many cases there were seances held to invoke supernatural powers. among the vast number of trials and confessions, i have found none more significant than the following. in february a daughter and niece of mr. parris, minister in salem (massachusetts), girls of ten or eleven years, and several other girls, complained of various bodily torments, and as the physicians could find no cause for them, they were pronounced bewitched. the rev. mr. parris had once been in business at the barbadoes, and probably brought thence his two slaves, spanish indians, man and wife. when the children were declared bewitched, the indian woman, tituba, tried an experiment, probably with fetishes familiar in the barbadoes, to find out the witch. whereupon the children cried out against the indian woman as appearing to them and tormenting them. tituba said her mistress, in her own country, had taught her how to find out a witch, but denied being one herself; but afterwards (urged, as she subsequently declared, by her master) she confessed; and the marks of spanish cruelty on her body were assumed to be the devil's wounds. the rev. mr. parris in a calmer time might have vindicated poor tituba by taking for text of his sermon on the subject christ's saying about a house divided against itself, and reminding the colony, which held public fast against satan, that the devil was too clever to cover his salem agent with wounds; but instead of that he preached on the words, 'have i not chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil.' during this sermon a woman left the church; she was sister of a woman who had also been accused by the children, and, being offended by something mr. parris said, went out of meeting; of course, also to prison. there were three other women involved with tituba, in whose fetish experiments a well-informed writer thinks the salem delusion began. [ ] the examination before the deputy-governor (danforth) began at salem, april , , and there are several notable points in it. tituba's husband, the indian john, cunningly escaped by pretending to be one of the afflicted. he charged goody proctor, and said, 'she brought the book to me.' no one asked what book! abigail williams, also one of the accusers of goody, was asked, 'does she bring the book to you? a. yes. q. what would she have you do with it? a. to write in it, and i shall be well.' not a descriptive word is demanded or given concerning this book. the examiners are evidently well acquainted with it. in the alleged confessions preserved in official reports, but not in the words of the accused, the nature of the book is made clear. thus mary osgood 'confesses that about eleven years ago, when she was in a melancholy state and condition, she used to walk abroad in her orchard, and, upon a certain time she saw the appearance of a cat at the end of the house, which yet she thought was a real cat. however, at that time it diverted her from praying to god, and instead thereof she prayed to the devil; about which time she made a covenant with the devil, who, as a black man, came to her, and presented her a book, upon which she laid her finger, and that left a red spot. and that upon her signing that book, the devil told her that he was her god.' this is not unlikely to be a paraphrase of some sermon on the infernal book of satan corresponding to the book of life, the theory being too conventional for the court to inquire about the mysterious volume. equally well known was the antichrist theory which had long represented that avatar of satan as having organised a church. thus we read:--'abigail williams, did you see a company at mr. parris's house eat and drink? a. yes, sir; that was their sacrament. q. what was it? a. they said it was our blood.' 'mary walcot, have you seen a white man? a. yes, sir, a great many times. q. what sort of man was he? a. a fine grave man, and when he came he made all the witches to tremble.' when it is remembered that mary osgood had described the devil as 'a black man' (all were thinking of the indians), this antiblackman suggests christ resisting antichrist. again, although nothing seems to have been said in the court previously about baptism, one of the examiners asks 'goody laccy how many years ago since they were baptized? a. three or four years ago i suppose. q. who baptized them? a. the old serpent. q. how did he do it? a. he dipped their heads in the water, saying they were his, and that he had power over them; ... there were six (who) baptized. q. name them. a. i think they were of the higher powers.' there are interspersed through the proceedings suggestions of mercy on condition of confession, which, joined to these theoretical questions, render it plain that the retractations which the so-called witches made were true, and that in new england, at least, there was little if any basis for the delusion beyond the experiment of the two spanish indians. the terrible massacre of witches which occurred there was the result of the decision of english judges and divines that witchcraft is recognised in the bible, and there assigned the death-penalty. it will be observed here that ancient mythology to salem is chiefly that of the bible, modified by local conditions. white man and black man represent christ and antichrist, and we have the same symbols on both sides,--eucharists, baptisms, and names written in books. the survivals from european folklore met with in the new england trials are--the cat, the horse (rarely), and the dog. in one case a dog suffered from the repute of being a witch, insomuch that some who met him fell into fits; he was put to death. riding through the air continues, but the american witches ride upon a stick or pole. the old-fashioned broom, the cloud-symbol of the wild huntsman, is rarely mentioned. one thing, however, survives from england, at least; the same sharp controversy that is reflected in the fairfax case. cotton mather tried one of the possessed with the bible, the 'assembly's catechism,' his grandfather's 'milk for babes,' his father's 'remarkable providence,' and a book to prove there were witches. 'and when any of those were offered for her to read in, she would be struck dead and fall into convulsions.' but when he tried her with popish and quaker books, the english prayer-book, and a book to prove there were no witches, the devil permitted her to read these as long as she pleased. one is at a loss which most to admire, the astuteness of the accused witch in bearing testimony to the puritan religion, or the phenomenon of its eminent representative seeking a witness to it in the father of lies. if now we travel towards the east we find the survivals growing clearer, as in the west they become faint. in the people of the villages of mohra and elfdale in sweden, believing that they were troubled by witches, were visited by a royal commission, the result of whose investigations was the execution of twenty-three adults and fifteen children; running of the gauntlet by thirty-six between the ages of nine and sixteen years; the lashing on the hand of twenty children for three sundays at the church-door, and similar lashing of the aforesaid thirty-six once a week for a year. portions of the confessions of the witches are given below from the public register as translated by anthony horneck, d.d., and printed in london, anno . i add a few words in brackets to point out survivals. 'we of the province of elfdale do confess that we used to go to a gravel-pit which lay hard by a cross-way (hecate), and there we put on a vest (wolf-girdle) over our heads, and then danced round, and after this ran to the cross-way, and called the devil thrice, first with a still voice, the second time somewhat louder, and the third time very loud, with these words--antecessor, come and carry us to blockula. whereupon immediately he used to appear, but in different habits; but for the most part we saw him in a grey coat and red and blue stockings: he had a red beard (barbarossa), a high-crowned hat (turn-cap), with linen of divers colours wrapt about it, and long garters upon his stockings. 'then he asked us whether we would serve him with soul and body. if we were content to do so, he set us upon a beast which he had there ready, and carried us over churches and high walls; and after all we came to a green meadow where blockula lies. we must procure some scrapings of altars, and filings of church clocks; and then he gives us a horn with a salve in it, wherewith we do anoint ourselves (chrism); and a saddle with a hammer (thor's), and a wooden nail, thereby to fix the saddle (walkyr's); whereupon we call upon the devil and away we go.' 'for their journey, they said they made use of all sorts of instruments, of beasts, of men, of spits, and posts, according as they had opportunity: if they do ride upon goats (azazel) and have many children with them, that all may have room, they stick a spit into the backside of the goat, and then are anointed with the aforesaid ointment. what the manner of their journey is, god only knows. thus much was made out, that if the children did at any time name the names (egyptian spells) of those that had carried them away, they were again carried by force either to blockula, or to the cross-way, and there miserably beaten, insomuch that some of them died of it.' 'a little girl of elfdale confessed that, naming the name of jesus as she was carried away, she fell suddenly upon the ground, and got a great hole in her side, which the devil presently healed up again, and away he carried her; and to this day the girl confessed she had exceeding great pain in her side.' 'they unanimously confessed that blockula is situated in a delicate large meadow, whereof you can see no end. the place or house they met at had before it a gate painted with divers colours; through this gate they went into a little meadow distinct from the other, where the beasts went that they used to ride on; but the men whom they made use of in their journey stood in the house by the gate in a slumbering posture, sleeping against the wall (castle of waldemar). in a huge large room of this house, they said, there stood a very long table, at which the witches did sit down; and that hard by this room was another chamber where there were very lovely and delicate beds. the first thing they must do at blockula was, that they must deny all, and devote themselves body and soul to the devil, and promise to serve him faithfully, and confirm all this with an oath (initiation). hereupon they cut their fingers (odinism), and with their blood write their name in his book (revelations). they added that he caused them to be baptized, too, by such priests as he had there (antichrist's sacraments).' 'and he, the devil, bids them believe that the day of judgment will come speedily, and therefore sets them on work to build a great house of stone (babel), promising that in that house he will preserve them from god's fury, and cause them to enjoy the greatest delights and pleasures (moslem). but while they work exceeding hard at it, there falls a great part of the wall down again.' 'they said, they had seen sometimes a very great devil like a dragon, with fire round about him, and bound with an iron chain (apocalyptic), and the devil that converses with them tells them that if they confess anything he will let that great devil loose upon them, whereby all sweedeland shall come into great danger. 'they added that the devil had a church there, such another as in the town of mohra. when the commissioners were coming he told the witches they should not fear them; for he would certainly kill them all. and they confessed that some of them had attempted to murther the commissioners, but had not been able to effect it. 'some of the children talked much of a white angel (frigga as christian tutelary), which used to forbid them what the devil had bid them do, and told them that those doings should not last long. what had been done had been permitted because of the wickedness of the people. 'those of elfdale confessed that the devil used to play upon an harp before them (tannhauser), and afterwards to go with them that he liked best into a chamber, when he committed venerous acts with them (asmodeus); and this indeed all confessed, that he had carnal knowledge of them, and that the devil had sons and daughters by them, which he did marry together, and they ... brought forth toads and serpents (echidna). 'after this they sat down to table, and those that the devil esteemed most were placed nearest to him; but the children must stand at the door, where he himself gives them meat and drink (sacrament). after meals they went to dancing, and in the meanwhile swore and cursed most dreadfully, and afterwards went to fighting one with another (valhalla). 'they also confessed that the devil gives them a beast about the bigness and shape of a young cat (hecate), which they call a carrier; and that he gives them a bird as big as a raven (odin's messenger), but white; [ ] and these two creatures they can send anywhere, and wherever they come they take away all sorts of victuals they can get, butter, cheese, milk, bacon, and all sorts of seeds, whatever they find, and carry it to the witch. what the bird brings they may keep for themselves, but what the carrier brings they must reserve for the devil, and that is brought to blockula, where he doth give them of it so much as he thinks fit. they added likewise that these carriers fill themselves so full sometimes, that they are forced to spue ('odin's booty') by the way, which spuing is found in several gardens, where colworts grow, and not far from the houses of these witches. it is of a yellow colour like gold, and is called butter of witches. 'the lords commissioners were indeed very earnest, and took great pains to persuade them to show some of their tricks, but to no purpose; for they did all unanimously confess that since they had confessed all, they found that all their witchcraft was gone, and that the devil at this time appeared to them very terrible, with claws on his hands and feet, and with horns on his head, a long tail behind, and showed to them a pit burning, with a hand put out; but the devil did thrust the person down again with an iron fork; and suggested to the witches that if they continued in their confession, he would deal with them in the same manner.' the ministers of both elfdale and mohra were the chief inciters of this investigation, and both testified that they had suffered many tortures in the night from the witches. one was taken by the throat and so violently used that 'for some weeks he was not able to speak or perform divine service.' we have in this narrative the official and clerical statement, and can never know to what the victims really confessed. blockula seems to be a swedish edition of blocksberg, of old considered a great resort of witches. but we may especially note the epithet by which the witches are said to have first appealed to the devil--antecessor. dr. horneck has not given us the swedish term of which this is a translation, but we may feel assured that it was not a phrase coined by the class among whom reputed witches were found. in all probability it was a learned phrase of the time for some supposed power which preceded and was conquered by christianity; and if we knew its significance it might supply a clue to the reality with which the commissioners were dealing. there would seem to be strong probabilities that in sweden also, as elsewhere, there had been a revival of faith in the old religion whose barbaric rites had still survived in a few holes and corners where they were practised by night. the antecessor was still present to hold out promises where the successor had broken all that his sponsors had made when the populace accepted his baptism. this probability is further suggested by the fact that some of these uncanny events happened at elfdale, a name which hints at a region of especial sanctity under the old religion, and also by the statement that the devil had a church there, a sort of travesty of the village church. about the same time we find john fiene confessing in scotland that the devil appeared to him in 'white raiment,' and it is also testified that john heard 'the devil preach in a kirk in the pulpit in the night by candlelight, the candle burning blue.' [ ] the names used by the scotch witches are often suggestive of pagan survivals. thus in the trial at the paisley assizes, , concerning the alleged bewitching of sir george maxwell, margaret jackson testified to giving up her soul by renouncing her baptism to a devil named locas (loki?); another raised a tempest to impede the king's voyage to denmark by casting into the sea a cat, and crying hola (hela?); and agnes sampson called the devil to her in the shape of a dog by saying, 'elva (elf?), come and speak to me!' it is necessary to pass by many of the indications contained in the witch-trials that there had been an effort to recur to the pleasures and powers traditionally associated with the pagan era of europe, and confirmed by the very denunciations of contemporary paganism with its pomp and luxury by the priesthood. the promises held out by the 'devil' to elfdale peasants and puritanised helen fairfax are unmistakable. but it is necessary to remark also that the ceremonies by which, as was clearly proved in various cases, the fortune-tellers or 'witches' endeavoured to imitate the spells of dr. faustus were archæological. around the cauldron, which was used in imitation of the alchemists, a rude zodiac was marked, some alchemic signs being added; and in the cauldron were placed ingredients concerning many of which the accounts are confused. it is, however, certain that the chief ingredients were plants which, precisely as in ancient egypt, had been gathered at certain phases of the moon, or seasons of the year, or from some spot where the sun was supposed not to have shone on it. it was clearly proved also that the plants chiefly used by the sorceresses were rue and vervain. vervain was sacred to the god of war in greece and rome, and made the badge of ambassadors sent to make treaties of peace. in germany it was sacred to thor, and he would not strike with his lightning a house protected by it. the druids called it 'holy herb;' they gathered it when the dog-star rose, from unsunned spots, and compensated the earth for the deprivation with a sacrifice of honey. its reputation was sufficient in ben jonson's day for him to write-- bring your garlands, and with reverence place the vervain on the altar. the charm which vervain had for the mediæval peasant was that it was believed, if it had first touched a bel-fire, to snap iron; and, if boiled with rue, made a liquid which, being poured on a gunflint, made the shot as sure to take effect as any freischütz could desire. rue was supposed to have a potent effect on the eye, and to bestow second sight. so sacred was it once in england that missionaries sprinkled holy water from brushes made up of it, whence it was called 'herb of grace.' milton represents michael as purging adam's eyes with it. in the tyrol it is believed to confer fine vision and used with agrimony (flowers of argos, the many-eyed); in posen it is said also to heal serpent-bites. by this route it came into the cauldron of the wizard and witch. in drayton's incantation it is said-- then sprinkles she the juice of rue, with nine drops of the midnight dew from lunary distilling. this association of lunary, or moon-wort, once supposed to cure lunacy, with rue is in harmony with the mythology of both. an old oracle, said to have been revealed by hecate herself, ran thus:--'from a root of wild rue fashion and polish a statue; adorn it with household lizards; grind myrrh, gum, and frankincense with the same reptiles, and let the mixture stand in the air during the waning of a moon; then address your vows in the following terms' (the formula is not preserved). 'as many forms as i have, so many lizards let there be; do these things exactly; you will build me an abode with branches of laurel, and having addressed fervent prayers to the image, you will see me in your sleep.' [ ] rue was thus consecrated as the very substance of hecate, the mother of all european witches. m. maury supposes that it was because it was a narcotic and caused hallucinations. hallucinations were, no doubt, the basis of belief in second sight. but whatever may be the cause, rue was the plant of witchcraft; and bishop taylor speaks of its being used by exorcists to try the devil, and thence deriving its appellation 'herb of grace.' more probably it was used to sprinkle holy water because of a traditional sanctity. all narcotics were supposed to be children of the night; and if, in addition, they were able to cause hallucinations, they were supposed to be under more especial care of the moon. after reading a large number of reports concerning the ordeals and trials of witches, and also many of their alleged confessions, i have arrived at the conclusion that there were certainly gatherings held in secret places; that some of the ordinary ceremonies and prayers of the church were used, with names of traditional deities and oriental demons substituted for those of the trinity and saints; that with these were mingled some observances which had been preserved from the ancient world by gnostics, astrologists, and alchemists. that at these gatherings there was sometimes direct devil-worship is probable, but oftener the invocations were in other names, and it is for the most part due to the legal reporters that the 'devil' is so often named. as to the 'confessions,' many, no doubt, admitted they had gone to witches' sabbaths who had been there only in feverish dreams, as must have been the case of many young children and morbid pietists who were executed; others confessed in hope of escape from charges they could not answer; and others were weary of their lives. the writer of this well remembers, in a small virginian village (falmouth), more than thirty years ago, the terrible persecutions to which an old white woman named nancy calamese was subjected because of her reputation as a witch. rumours of lizards vomited by her poor neighbours caused her to be dreaded by the ignorant; the negroes were in terror of her; she hardly dared pass through the streets for fear of being hooted by boys. one morning she waded into the rappahannock river and drowned herself, and many of her neighbours regarded the suicide as her confession. probably it was a similar sort of confession to many that we read in the reports of witch trials. the retribution that followed was more ferocious than could have visited mere attempts by the poor and ignorant to call up spirits to their aid. every now and then the prosecutions disclose the well-known animus of heresy, persecution, and also the fury of magistrates suspicious of conspiracies. in england, new england, and france, particularly, an incipient rationalism was revealed in the party called 'saducees,' who tried to cast discredit on the belief in witchcraft. this was recognised by sir mathew hale in england and cotton mather in new england, consequently by the chief authorities of church and state in both countries, as an attack on biblical infallibility, since it was said in the bible, 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' the leading wizards and witches were probably also persons who had been known in connection with the popular discontent and revolutionary feeling displayed in so many of the vindictive conjurations which were brought to light. the horrors which attended the crushing out of this last revival of paganism are such as recall the bartholomew massacre and the recent slaughter of communists in paris, so vividly that one can hardly repress the suspicion that the same sort of mingled panic and fanaticism were represented in them all. dr. réville has summed up the fearful history of three hundred years as follows:--'in the single year , and in the district of worms alone, eighty-five witches were delivered to the flames. at geneva, at basle, at hamburg, at ratisbon, at vienna, and in a multitude of other towns, there were executions of the same kind. at hamburg, among other victims, a physician was burnt alive, because he saved the life of a woman who had been given up by the midwife. in italy, during the year , there were burnt in the diocese of como alone more than two hundred witches. this was after the new bull hurled at witchcraft by pope adrian vi. in spain it was still worse; there, in , two little girls, of from nine to eleven years of age, denounced a host of witches, whom they pretended to detect by a mark in their left eye. in england and scotland political influence was brought to bear upon sorcery; mary stuart was animated by a lively zeal against witches. in france the parliament of paris happily removed business of this kind from the ecclesiastical tribunals; and under louis xi., charles viii., and louis xii. there were but few condemnations for the practice of magic; but from the time of francis i., and especially from henry ii., the scourge reappeared. jean bodin, a man of sterling worth in other respects, but stark mad upon the question of witchcraft, communicated his mania to all classes of the nation. his contemporary and disciple, boguet, showed how that france swarmed with witches and wizards. 'they increase and multiply on the land,' said he, 'even as do the caterpillars in our gardens. would that they were all got together in a heap, so that a single fire might burn them all at once.' savoy, flanders, the jura mountains, lorraine, béarn, provence, and in almost all parts of france, the frightful hecatombs were seen ablaze. in the seventeenth century the witch-fever somewhat abated, though it burst out here and there, centralising itself chiefly in the convents of hysterical nuns. the terrible histories of the priests gaufridy and urban grandier are well known. in germany, and particularly in its southern parts, witch-burning was still more frequent. in one small principality at least persons were burnt between and ; and, horribile dictu, in the official records of these executions, we find that among those who suffered were children from one to six years of age! in the witch-judge, nicholas remy, boasted of having burnt persons in fifteen years. it would even seem that it is to the proceedings against sorcery that germany owes the introduction of torture as an ordinary mode of getting at the truth. mr. roskoff reproduces a catalogue of the executions of witches and wizards in the episcopal town of würzburg, in bavaria, up to the year . in the number of those put to death for witchcraft amounted, in this diocese, to . in the neighbouring bishopric of bamberg at least were burnt. he enumerates thirty-one executions in all, not counting some regarded by the compilers of the catalogue as not important enough to mention. the number of victims at each execution varies from two to seven. many are distinguished by such surnames as 'the big hunchback, the sweetheart, the bridge-keeper, the old pork-woman,' &c. among them appear people of all sorts and conditions, actors, workmen, jugglers, town and village maidens, rich burghers, nobles, students, magistrates even, and a fair number of priests. many are simply entered as 'a foreigner.' here and there is added to the name of the condemned person his age and a short notice. among the victims, for instance, of the twentieth execution figures 'little barbara, the prettiest girl in würzburg;' 'a student who could speak all manner of languages, who was an excellent musician, vocaliter et instrumentaliter;' 'the master of the hospice, a very learned man.' we find, too, in this, gloomy account the cruel record of children burnt for witchcraft; here a little girl of about nine or ten years of age, with her baby sister, younger than herself (their mother was burnt a little while afterwards); here boys of ten or eleven; again, a young girl of fifteen; two children from the poorhouse; the little boy of a councillor. the pen falls from one's hand in recapitulating such monstrosities. cannot those who would endow catholicity with the dogma of papal infallibility hearken, before giving their vote, to the cries that rise before god, and which history re-echoes, of those poor innocent ones whom pontifical bulls threw into flames? the seventeenth century saw the rapid diminution of trials and tortures. in one of his good moments, louis xiv. mitigated greatly the severity of this special legislation. for this he had to undergo the remonstrances of the parliament of rouen, which believed society would be ruined if those who dealt in sorcery were merely condemned to perpetual confinement. the truth is, that belief in witchcraft was so wide-spread, that from time to time even throughout the seventeenth century there were isolated executions. one of the latest and most notorious was that of renata saenger, superior of the convent of unterzell, near würzburg ( ). at landshut, in bavaria, in , a young girl of thirteen years was convicted of impure intercourse with the devil, and put to death. seville in , and glaris in , saw the last two known victims to this fatal superstition.' [ ] the reformation swept away in northern countries, for the upper classes, as many christian saints and angels as priestcraft had previously turned to enemies for the lower. the poor and ignorant simply tried to evoke the same ideal spirit-guardians under the pagan forms legendarily associated with a golden age. witchcraft was a pathetic appeal against a cruel present to a fair, however visionary, past. but protestantism has brought on famine of another kind--famine of the heart. the saints of the church have followed those of paganism; and although one result of the process has been a vast increase in enterprise, science, and wealth, man cannot live by these alone. modern spiritualism, which so many treat with a superciliousness little creditable to a scientific age, is a cry of starved sentiment and affections left hopeless under faded heavens, as full of pathetic meaning as that which was wrung from serfs enticed into temples only to find them dens of thieves. desolate hearts take up the burthen of desolate homes, and appeal to invisible powers for guidance; and for attestation of hopes which science has blighted, ere poetry, art, and philanthropy have changed these ashes into beauty. because these so-called spirits, evoked by mediums out of morbid nerves, are really longed-for ideals, the darker features of witchcraft are not called about them. that fearful movement was a wronged medea whose sorrows had made hecate--to remember the dreadful phrase of euripides--'the chosen assistant dwelling in the inmost recesses of her house.' modern spiritualism is rachel weeping for her children, not to be comforted if they are not. but the madness of the one is to be understood by the plaintive appeal of the other. chapter xxv. faust and mephistopheles. mephisto and mephitis--the raven book--papal sorcery--magic seals--mephistopheles as dog--george sabellicus alias faustus--the faust myth--marlowe's faust--good and evil angels--el magico prodigioso--cyprian and justina--klinger's faust--satan's sermon--goethe's mephistopheles--his german characters--moral scepticism--devil's gifts--helena--redemption through art--defeat of mephistopheles. the name mephistopheles has in it, i think, the priest's shudder at the fumes of the laboratory. duntzer [ ] finds that the original form of the word was 'mephostophiles,' and conjectures that it was a bungling effort to put together three greek words, to mean 'not loving the light.' in this he has the support of bayard taylor, who also thinks that it was so understood by goethe. the transformation of it was probably amid the dreaded gases with which the primitive chemist surrounded himself. he who began by 'not loving the light' became the familiar of men seeking light, and lover of their mephitic gases. the ancient romans had a mysterious divinity called mephitis, whose grove and temple were in the esquiliæ, near a place it was thought fatal to enter. she is thought to have been invoked against the mephitic exhalations of the earth in the grove of albunea. sulphur springs also were of old regarded as ebullitions from hell, and both schwarz and roger bacon particularly dealt in that kind of smell. considering how largely asmodeus, as 'fine gentleman,' entered into the composition of mephistopheles, and how he flew from nineveh to egypt (tobit) to avoid a bad smell, it seems the irony of mythology that he should turn up in europe as a mephitic spirit. mephistopheles is the embodiment of all that has been said in preceding chapters of the ascetic's horror of nature and the pride of life, and of the mediæval priest's curse on all learning he could not monopolise. the faust myth is merely his shadow cast on the earth, the tracery of his terrible power as the church would have the people dread it. the early raven book at dresden has the title:--' � � � d. j. fausti � � � dreifacher höllen-zwung und magische (geister-commando) nebst den schwarzen raaben. romæ ad arcanum pontificatus unter papst alexander vi. gedruckt. anno (christi) mdi.' in proof of which claim there is a preface purporting to be a proclamation signed by the said pope and cardinal piccolomini concerning the secrets which the celebrated dr. faust had scattered throughout germany, commanding ut ad arcanum pontificatus mandentur et sicut pupilla oculi in archivio nostro serventur et custodiantur, atque extra valvas vaticanas non imprimantur neque inde transportentur. si vero quiscunque temere contra agere ausus fuerit, divinam maledictionem latæ sententiæ ipso facto servatis nobis solis reservandis se incursurum sciat. ita mandamus et constituemus virtute apostolicæ ecclesiæ jesu christi sub poena excommunicationis ut supra. anno secundo vicariatus nostri. romæ verbi incarnati anno m.d.i. this is an impudent forgery, but it is an invention which, more than anything actually issued from rome, indicates the popular understanding that the contention of the church was not against the validity of magic arts, but against their exercise by persons not authorised by itself. it was, indeed, a tradition not combated by the priests, that various ecclesiastics had possessed such powers, even popes, as john xxii., gregory vii., and clement v. the first sylvester was said to have a dragon at his command; john xxii. denounced his physicians and courtiers for necromancy; and the whispers connecting the vatican with sorcery lasted long enough to attribute to the late pius ix. a power of the evil eye. such awful potencies the church wished to be ascribed to itself alone. faust is a legend invented to impress on the popular mind the fate of all who sought knowledge in unauthorised ways and for non-ecclesiastical ends. in the raven book just mentioned, there are provisions for calling up spirits which, in their blending of christian with pagan formulas, oddly resemble the solemn proceedings sometimes affected by our spiritual mediums. the magician (magister) had best be alone, but if others are present, their number must be odd; he should deliberate beforehand what business he wishes to transact with the spirits; he must observe god's commandment; trust the almighty's help; continue his conjuration, though the spirits do not appear quickly, with unwavering faith; mark a circle on parchment with a dove's blood; within this circle write in latin the names of the four quarters of heaven; write around it the hebrew letters of god's name, and beneath it write sadan; and standing in this circle he must repeat the ninety-first psalm. in addition there are seals in red and black, various hebrew, greek, and latin words, chiefly such as contain the letters q, w, x, y, z,--e.g., yschyros, theos, zebaoth, adonay. the specimen (fig. ), which i copied from the book in dresden, is there called 'sigillum telschunhab.' the 'black raven' is pictured in the book, and explained as the form in which the angel raphael taught tobias to summon spirits. it is said also that the magician must in certain cases write with blood of a fish (tobit again) or bat on 'maiden-parchment,'--this being explained as the skin of a goat, but unpleasantly suggestive of a different origin. in this book, poorly printed, and apparently on a private press, mephistopheles is mentioned as one of the chief princes of hell. he is described as a youth, adept in all arts and services, who brings spirit-servants or familiars, and brings treasures from earth and sea with speed. in the frankfort faust book ( ), mephistopheles says, 'i am a spirit, and a flying spirit, potently ruling under the heavens.' in the oldest legends he appears as a dog, that, as we have seen, being the normal form of tutelary divinities, the symbol of the scribe in egypt, guard of hades, and psychopomp of various mythologies. a dog appears following the family of tobias. manlius reports melancthon as saying, 'he (faust) had a dog with him, which was the devil.' johann gast ('sermones conviviales') says he was present at a dinner at basle given by faust, and adds: 'he had also a dog and a horse with him, both of which, i believe, were devils, for they were able to do everything. some persons told me that the dog frequently took the shape of a servant, and brought him food.' in the old legends this dog is named praestigiar. [ ] as for the man faust, he seems to have been personally the very figure which the church required, and had the friar, in whose guise mephistopheles appears, been his actual familiar, he could hardly have done more to bring learning into disgrace. born at the latter part of the fifteenth century at knittlingen, wurtemberg, of poor parents, the bequest of an uncle enabled him to study medicine at cracow university, and it seems plain that he devoted his learning and abilities to the work of deluding the public. that he made money by his 'mediumship,' one can only infer from the activity with which he went about germany and advertised his 'powers.' it was at a time when high prices were paid for charms, philtres, mandrake mannikins; and the witchcraft excitement was not yet advanced enough to render dealing in such things perilous. it seems that the catholic clergy made haste to use this impostor to point their moral against learning, and to identify him as first-fruit of the reformation; while the reformers, with equal zeal, hurled him back upon the papists as outcome of their idolatries. melancthon calls him 'an abominable beast, a sewer of many devils.' the first mention of him is by trithemius in a letter of august , , who speaks of him as 'a pretender to magic' ('magister georgius sabellicus, faustus junior'), whom he met at gelnhaussen; and in another letter of the same year as at kreuznach, conrad mudt, friend of luther and melancthon, mentions (oct. , ) the visit to erfurth of georgius faustus hemitheus hedebeyensis, 'a braggart and a fool who affects magic,' whom he had 'heard talking in a tavern,' and who had 'raised theologians against him.' in vogel's annals of leipzig ( ), kept in auerbach's cellar, is recorded under date dr. johann faust's visit to the cellar. he appears therefore to have already had aliases. the first clear account of him is in the 'index sanitatis' of dr. philip begardi ( ), who says: 'since several years he has gone through all regions, provinces, and kingdoms, made his name known to everybody, and is highly renowned for his great skill, not alone in medicine, but also in chiromancy, necromancy, physiognomy, visions in crystal, and the like other arts. and also not only renowned, but written down and known as an experienced master. himself admitted, nor denied that it was so, and that his name was faustus, and called himself philosophum philosophorum. but how many have complained to me that they were deceived by him--verily a great number! but what matter?--hin ist hin.' these latter words may mean that faust had just died. he must have died about that time, and with little notice. the rapidity with which a mythology began to grow around him is worthy of more attention than the subject has received. in the protestant theologian johann gast has ('sermones convivialium') stories of his diabolical dog and horse, and of the devil's taking him off, when his body turns itself five times face downward. in philip camerarius speaks of him as 'a well-known magician who lived in the time of our fathers.' april , , two students of the university of tübingen were imprisoned for writing a comedy of dr. faustus: though it was not permitted to make light of the story, it was thought a very proper one to utilise for pious purposes, and in the autumn of the same year ( ) the original form of the legend was published by spiess in frankfort. it describes faust as summoning the devil at night, in a forest near wittenberg. the evil spirit visits him on three occasions in his study, where on the third he gives his name as 'mephostophiles,' and the compact to serve him for twenty-four years for his soul is signed. when faust pierces his hand, the blood flows into the form of the words o homo fuge! mephistopheles first serves him as a monk, and brings him fine garments, wine, and food. many of the luxuries are brought from the mansions of prelates, which shows the protestant bias of the book; which is also shown in the objection the devil makes to faust's marrying, because marriage is pleasing to god. mephistopheles changes himself to a winged horse, on which faust is borne through many countries, arriving at last at rome. faust passes three days, invisible, in the vatican, which supplies the author with another opportunity to display papal luxury, as well as the impotence of the pope and his cardinals to exorcise the evil powers which take their food and goblets when they are about to feast. on his further aerial voyages faust gets a glimpse of the garden of eden; lives in state in the sultan's palace in the form of mohammed; and at length becomes a favourite in the court of charles v. at innsbruck. here he evokes alexander the great and his wife. in roaming about germany, faust diverts himself by swallowing a load of hay and horses, cutting off heads and replacing them, making flowers bloom at christmas, drawing wine from a table, and calling helen of troy to appear to some students. helen becomes his mistress; by her he has a son, justus faustus; but these disappear simultaneously with the dreadful end of dr. faustus, who after a midnight storm is found only in the fragments with which his room is strewn. several of these legends are modifications of those current before faust's time. the book had such an immense success that new volumes and versions on the same subject appeared not only in germany but in other parts of europe,--a rhymed version in england, ; a translation from the german in france, ; a dutch translation, ; christopher marlowe's drama in . in marlowe's 'tragical history of doctor faustus,' the mass of legends of occult arts that had crystallised around a man thoroughly representative of them was treated with the dignity due to a subject amid whose moral and historic grandeur faust is no longer the petty personality he really was. he is precisely the character which the church had been creating for a thousand years, only suddenly changed from other-worldly to worldly desires and aims. what he seeks is what all the energy of civilisation seeks. evil angel. go forward, faustus, in that famous art wherein all nature's treasure is contained: be thou on earth as jove is in the sky, lord and commander of these elements. faust. how am i glutted with conceit of this! shall i make spirits fetch me what i please, resolve me of all ambiguities, perform what desperate enterprise i will? i'll have them fly to india for gold, ransack the ocean for orient pearl, and search all corners of the new-found world for pleasant fruits and princely delicates; i'll have them read me strange philosophy, and tell the secrets of all foreign kings; i'll have them wall all germany with brass, and make swift rhine circle fair wertenberg; i'll have them fill the public schools with silk, wherewith the students shall be bravely clad. for this he is willing to pay his soul, which theology has so long declared to be the price of mastering the world. this word damnation terrifies not him, for he confounds hell in elysium: his ghost be with the old philosophers! the 'good angel' warns him: o faustus, lay that damned book aside, and gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul, and heap god's heavy wrath upon thy head! read, read the scriptures:--that is blasphemy. so, dying away amid the thunders of the reformation, were heard the echoes of the early christian voices which exulted in the eternal tortures of the greek poets and philosophers: the anathemas on roger bacon, socinus, galileo; the outcries with which every great invention has been met. we need only retouch the above extracts here and there to make faust's aspirations those of a saint. let the gold be sought in new jerusalem, the pearl in its gates, the fruits in paradise, the philosophy that of athanasius, and no amount of selfish hunger and thirst for them would grieve any 'good angel' he had ever heard of. the 'good angel' has not yet gained his wings who will tell him that all he seeks is included in the task of humanity, but warn him that the method by which he would gain it is just that by which he has been instructed to seek gold and jasper of the new jerusalem,--not by fulfilling the conditions of them, but as the object of some favouritism. every human being who ever sought to obtain benefit by prayers or praises that might win the good graces of a supposed bestower of benefits, instead of by working for them, is but the faust of his side--be it supernal or infernal. hocus-pocus and invocation, blood-compacts and sacraments,--they are all the same in origin; they are all mean attempts to obtain advantages beyond other people without serving up to them or deserving them. to beelzebub faust will 'build an altar and a church;' but he had probably never entered a church or knelt before an altar with any less selfishness. a strong nemesis follows self to see that its bounds are not overpassed without retribution. its satisfactions must be weighed in the balance with its renunciations. and the inflexible law applies to intellect and self-culture as much as to any other power of man. mephistopheles is 'the kernel of the brute;' he is the intellect with mere canine hunger for knowledge because of the power it brings. or, falling on another part of human nature, it is pride making itself abject for ostentation; or it is passion selling love for lust. re-enter mephistopheles with devils, who give crowns and rich apparel to faustus, dance, and then depart. to the man who has received his intellectual and moral liberty only to so spend it, lucifer may well say, in marlowe's words-- christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just: there's none but i have interest in the same. perhaps he might even better have suggested to faust that his soul was not of sufficient significance to warrant much anxiety. something was gained when it was brought before the people in popular dramas of faust how little the devil cared for the cross which had so long been regarded as the all-sufficient weapon against him. [ ] faust and mephistopheles flourish in the vatican despite all the crosses raised to exorcise them. the confession of the cross which once meant martyrdom of the confessor had now come to mean martyrdom of the denier. protestantism put its faith in theology, creeds, and orthodoxy. but calderon de la barca blended the legend of faust with the legendary temptation of st. cyprian, and in 'el magico prodigioso' we have, in impressive contrast, the powerlessness of the evil powers over the heart of a pure woman, and its easy entrance into a mind fully furnished with the soundest sentiments of theology. st. cyprian had been a worshipper of pagan deities [ ] before his conversion, and even after this he had once saved himself while other christians were suffering martyrdom. it is possible that out of this may have grown the legend of his having called his earlier deities--theoretically changed to devils--to his aid; a trace of the legend being that magical 'book of cyprianus' mentioned in another chapter. in his tract 'de gratia dei' cyprian says concerning his spiritual condition before conversion, 'i lay in darkness, and floating on the world's boisterous sea, with no resting-place for my feet, ignorant of my proper life, and estranged from truth and light.' here is a metaphorical 'vasty deep' from which the centuries could hardly fail to conjure up spirits, one of them being the devil of calderon's drama, who from a wrecked ship walks christ-like over the boisterous sea to find cyprian on the sea-shore. the drama opens with a scene which recalls the most perilous of st. anthony's temptations. according to athanasius, the devil having utterly failed to conquer anthony's virtue by charming images, came to him in his proper black and ugly shape, and, candidly confessing that he was the devil, said he had been vanquished by the saint's extraordinary sanctity. anthony prevailed against the spirit of pride thus awakened; but calderon's cyprian, though he does not similarly recognise the devil, becomes complacent at the dialectical victory which the tempter concedes him. cyprian having argued the existence and supremacy of god, the devil says, 'how can i impugn so clear a consequence?' 'do you regret my victory?' 'who but regrets a check in rivalry of wit?' he leaves, and cyprian says, 'i never met a more learned person.' the devil is equally satisfied, knowing, no doubt, that gods worked out by the wits alone remain in their abode of abstraction and do not interfere with the world of sense. calderon is artful enough to throw the trial of cyprian back into his pagan period, but the mirror is no less true in reflecting for those who had eyes to see in it the weakness of theology. 'enter the devil as a fine gentleman,' is the first sign of the temptation in calderon's drama--it is asmodeus [ ] again, and the 'pride of life' he first brings is the conceit of a clever theological victory. so sufficient is the doorway so made for all other pride to enter, that next time the devil needs no disguise, but has only to offer him a painless victory over nature and the world, including justina, the object of his passion. wouldst thou that i work a charm over this waste and savage wood, this babylon of crags and aged trees, filling its coverts with a horror thrilling and strange?... i offer thee the fruit of years of toil in recompense; whate'er thy wildest dream presented to thy thought as object of desire, shall be thine. [ ] justina knows less about the philosophical god of cyprian, and more of the might of a chaste heart. to the devil she says-- thought is not in my power, but action is: i will not move my foot to follow thee. the devil is compelled to say at last-- woman, thou hast subdued me, only by not owning thyself subdued. he is only able to bring a counterfeit of justina to her lover. like goethe's mephistopheles, cyprian's devil is unable to perform his exact engagements, and consequently does not win in the game. he enables cyprian to move mountains and conquer beasts, until he boasts that he can excel his infernal teacher, but the devil cannot bring justina. she has told cyprian that she will love him in death. cyprian and she together abjure their paganism at antioch, and meet in a cell just before their martyrdom. over their bodies lying dead on the scaffold the devil appears as a winged serpent, and says he is compelled to announce that they have both ascended to heaven. he descends into the earth. what the story of faust and mephistopheles had become in the popular mind of germany, when goethe was raising it to be an immortal type of the conditions under which genius and art can alone fulfil their task, is well shown in the sensational tragedy written by his contemporary, the playwright klinger. the following extract from klinger's 'faust' is not without a certain impressiveness. 'night covered the earth with its raven wing. faust stood before the awful spectacle of the body of his son suspended upon the gallows. madness parched his brain, and he exclaimed in the wild tones of dispair: 'satan, let me but bury this unfortunate being, and then you may take this life of mine, and i will descend into your infernal abode, where i shall no more behold men in the flesh. i have learned to know them, and i am disgusted with them, with their destiny, with the world, and with life. my good action has drawn down unutterable woe upon my head; i hope that my evil ones may have been productive of good. thus should it be in the mad confusion of earth. take me hence; i wish to become an inhabitant of thy dreary abode; i am tired of light, compared with which the darkness in the infernal regions must be the brightness of mid-day.' but satan replied: 'hold! not so fast--faust; once i told thee that thou alone shouldst be the arbiter of thy life, that thou alone shouldst have power to break the hour-glass of thy existence; thou hast done so, and the hour of my vengeance has come, the hour for which i have sighed so long. here now do i tear from thee thy mighty wizard-wand, and chain thee within the narrow bounds which i draw around thee. here shalt thou stand and listen to me, and tremble; i will draw forth the terrors of the dark past, and kill thee with slow despair. 'thus will i exult over thee, and rejoice in my victory. fool! thou hast said that thou hast learned to know man! where? how and when? hast thou ever considered his nature? hast thou ever examined it, and separated from it its foreign elements? hast thou distinguished between that which is offspring of the pure impulses of his heart, and that which flows from an imagination corrupted by art? hast thou compared the wants and the vices of his nature with those which he owes to society and prevailing corruption? hast thou observed him in his natural state, where each of his undisguised expressions mirrors forth his inmost soul? no--thou hast looked upon the mask that society wears, and hast mistaken it for the true lineaments of man; thou hast only become acquainted with men who have consecrated their condition, wealth, power, and talents to the service of corruption; who have sacrificed their pure nature to your idol--illusion. thou didst at one time presume to show me the moral worth of man! and how didst thou set about it! by leading me upon the broad highways of vice, by bringing me to the courts of the mighty wholesale butchers of men, to that of the coward tyrant of france, of the usurper in england! why did we pass by the mansions of the good and the just? was it for me, satan, to whom thou hast chosen to become a mentor, to point them out to thee? no; thou wert led to the places thou didst haunt by the fame of princes, by thy pride, by thy longing after dissipation. and what hast thou seen there? the soul-seared tyrants of mankind, with their satellites, wicked women and mercenary priests, who make religion a tool by which to gain the object of their base passions. 'hast thou ever deigned to cast a glance at the oppressed, who, sighing under his burden, consoles himself with the hope of an hereafter? hast thou ever sought for the dwelling of the virtuous friend of humanity, for that of the noble sage, for that of the active and upright father of a family? 'but how would that have been possible? how couldst thou, the most corrupt of thy race, have discovered the pure one, since thou hadst not even the capacity to suspect his existence? 'proudly didst thou pass by the cottages of the pure and humble, who live unacquainted with even the names of your artificial vices, who earn their bread in the sweat of their brow, and who rejoice at their last hour that they are permitted to exchange the mortal for the immortal. it is true, hadst thou entered their abode, thou mightst not have found thy foolish ideal of an heroic, extravagant virtue, which is only the fanciful creation of your vices and your pride; but thou wouldst have seen the man of a retiring modesty and noble resignation, who in his obscurity excels in virtue and true grandeur of soul your boasted heroes of field and cabinet. thou sayest that thou knowest man! dost thou know thyself? nay, deeper yet will i enter into the secret places of thy heart, and fan with fierce blast the flames which thou hast kindled there for thee. 'had i a thousand human tongues, and as many years to speak to thee, they would be all insufficient to develop the consequences of thy deeds and thy recklessness. the germ of wretchedness which thou hast sown will continue its growth through centuries yet to come; and future generations will curse thee as the author of their misery. 'behold, then, daring and reckless man, the importance of actions that appear circumscribed to your mole vision! who of you can say, time will obliterate the trace of my existence! thou who knowest not what beginning, what middle, and end are, hast dared to seize with a bold hand the chain of fate, and hast attempted to gnaw its links, notwithstanding that they were forged for eternity! 'but now will i withdraw the veil from before thy eyes, and then--cast the spectre despair into thy soul.' 'faust pressed his hands upon his face; the worm that never dieth gnawed already on his heart.' the essence and sum of every devil are in the mephistopheles of goethe. he is culture. culture, which smooth the whole world licks, also unto the devil sticks. he represents the intelligence which has learned the difference between ideas and words, knows that two and two make four, and also how convenient may be the dexterity that can neatly write them out five. of metaphysics learn the use and beauty! see that you most profoundly gain what does not suit the human brain! a splendid word to serve, you'll find for what goes in--or won't go in--your mind. on words let your attention centre! then through the safest gate you'll enter the temple halls of certainty. [ ] he knows, too, that the existing moment alone is of any advantage; that theory is grey and life ever green; that he only gathers real fruit who confides in himself. he is thus the perfectly evolved intellect of man, fully in possession of all its implements, these polished till they shine in all grace, subtlety, adequacy. nature shows no symbol of such power more complete than the gemmed serpent with its exquisite adaptations,--freed from cumbersome prosaic feet, equal to the winged by its flexible spine, every tooth artistic. from an ancient prison was this ariel liberated by his prospero, whose wand was the reformation, a spirit finely touched to fine issues. but his wings cannot fly beyond the atmosphere. the ancient heaven has faded before the clearer eye, but the starry ideals have come nearer. the old hells have burnt out, but the animalism of man couches all the more freely on his path, having broken every chain of fear. man still walks between the good and evil, on the hair-drawn bridge of his moral nature. his faculties seem adapted with equal precision to either side of his life, upper or under,--to wisdom or cunning, self-respect or self-conceit, prudence or selfishness, lust or love. such is the seeming situation, but is it the reality? goethe's 'faust' is the one clear answer which this question has received. in one sense mephistopheles may be called a german devil. the christian soul of germany was from the first a changeling. the ancient nature-worship of that race might have had its normal development in the sciences, and alone with this intellectual evolution there must have been formed a related religion able to preserve social order through the honour of man. but the native soul of germany was cut out by the sword and replaced with a mongrel hebrew-latin soul. the metaphorical terrors of tropical countries,--the deadly worms, the burning and suffocating blasts and stenches, with which the mind of those dwelling near them could familiarise itself when met with in their scriptures, acquired exaggerated horrors when left to be pictured by the terrorised imagination of races ignorant of their origin. it is a long distance from potsdam and hyde park to zahara. christianity therefore blighted nature in the north by apparitions more fearful than the southern world ever knew, and long after the pious there could sing and dance, puritanical glooms hung over the christians of higher latitudes. when the progress of german culture began the work of dissipating these idle terrors, the severity of the reaction was proportioned to the intensity of the delusions. the long-famished faculties rushed almost madly into their beautiful world, but without the old reverence which had once knelt before its phenomena. that may remain with a few, but the cynicism of the noisiest will be reflected even upon the faces of the best. goethe first had his attention drawn to spinoza by a portrait of him on a tract, in which his really noble countenance was represented with a diabolical aspect. the orthodox had made it, but they could only have done so by the careers of faust, paracelsus, and their tribe. these too helped to conventionalise voltaire into a mephistopheles. [ ] goethe was probably the first european man to carry out this scepticism to its full results. he was the first who recognised that the moral edifice based upon monastic theories must follow them; and he had in his own life already questioned the right of the so-called morality to its supreme if not tyrannous authority over man. hereditary conscience, passing through this fierce crucible, lay levigable before goethe, to be swept away into dust-hole or moulded into the image of reason. there remained around the animal nature of a free man only a thread which seemed as fine as that which held the monster fenris. it was made only of the sentiment of love and that of honour. but as fenris found the soft invisible thread stronger than chains, faust proved the tremendous sanctions that surround the finer instincts of man. emancipated from grey theory, faust rushes hungrily at the golden fruit of life. the starved passions will have their satisfaction, at whatever cost to poor gretchen. the fruit turns to ashes on his lips. the pleasure is not that of the thinking man, but of the accomplished poodle he has taken for his guide. to no moment in that intrigue can the suffrage of his whole nature say, 'stay, thou art fair!' that is the pact--it is the distinctive keynote of goethe's 'faust.' canst thou by falsehood or by flattery make me one moment with myself at peace, cheat me into tranquillity?--come then and welcome life's last day. make me to the passing moment plead. fly not, o stay, thou art so fair! then will i gladly perish. the pomp and power of the court, luxury and wealth, equally fail to make the scholar at peace with himself. they are symbolised in the paper money by which mephistopheles replenished the imperial exchequer. the only allusion to the printing-press, whose inventor fust had been somewhat associated with faust, is to show its power turned to the work of distributing irredeemable promises. at length one demand made by faust makes mephistopheles tremble. as a mere court amusement he would have him raise helen of troy. reluctant that faust should look upon the type of man's harmonious development, yet bound to obey, mephistopheles sends him to the mothers,--the healthy primal instincts and ideals of man which expressed themselves in the fair forms of art. corrupted by superstition of their own worshippers, cursed by christianity, they 'have a hades of their own,' as mephistopheles says, and he is unwilling to interfere with them. the image appears, and the sense of beauty is awakened in faust. but he is still a christian as to his method: his idea is that heaven must be taken by storm, by chance, wish, prayer, any means except patient fulfilment of the conditions by which it may be reached. helen is flower of the history and culture of greece; and so lightly faust would pluck and wear it! helen having vanished as he tried to clasp her, faust has learned his second lesson. when he next meets helen it is not to seek intellectual beauty as, in gretchen's case, he had sought the sensuous and sensual. he has fallen under a charm higher than that of either church or mephistopheles; the divorce of ages between flesh and spirit, the master-crime of superstition, from which all devils sprang, was over for him from the moment that he sees the soul embodied and body ensouled in the art-ideal of greece. the redemption of faust through art is the gospel of the nineteenth century. this is her vesture which helen leaves him when she vanishes, and which bears him as a cloud to the land he is to make beautiful. the purest art--greek art--is an expression of humanity: it can as little be turned to satisfy a self-culture unhumanised as to consist with a superstition which insults nature. when faust can meet with helen, and part without any more clutching, he is not hurled back to his gothic study and mocking devil any more: he is borne away until he reaches the land where his thought and work are needed. blindness falls on him--or what theology deems such: for it is metaphorical--it means that he has descended from clouds to the world, and the actual earth has eclipsed a possible immortality. the sphere of earth is known enough to me; the view beyond is barred immortality: a fool who there his blinking eyes directeth, and o'er his clouds of peers a place expecteth! firm let him stand and look around him well! this world means something to the capable; why needs he through eternity to wend? the eye for a fictitious world lost, leaves the vision for reality clearer. in every hard chaotic object faust can now detect a slumbering beauty. the swamps and pools of the unrestrained sea, the oppressed people, the barrenness and the flood, they are all paths to helen--a nobler helen than greece knew. when he has changed one scene of chaos into order, and sees a free people tilling the happy earth, then, indeed, he has realised the travail of his manhood, and is satisfied. to a moment which mephistopheles never brought him, he cries 'stay, thou art fair!' mephistopheles now, as becomes a creation of the theology of obtaining what is not earned, calls up infernal troops to seize faust's soul, but the angels pelt them with roses. the roses sting them worse than flames. the roses which faust has evoked from briars are his defence: they are symbols of man completing his nature by a self-culture which finds its satisfaction in making some outward desert rejoice and blossom like the rose. chapter xxvi. the wild huntsman. the wild hunt--euphemisms--schimmelreiter--odinwald--pied piper--lyeshy--waldemar's hunt--palne hunter--king abel's hunt --lords of glorup--le grand veneur--robert le diable--arthur-- hugo--herne--tregeagle--der freischütz--elijah's chariot--mahan bali--déhak--nimrod--nimrod's defiance of jehovah--his tower-- robber knights--the devil in leipzig--olaf hunting pagans-- hunting-horns--raven--boar--hounds--horse--dapplegrimm--sleipnir --horseflesh--the mare chetiya--stags--st. hubert--the white lady --myths of mother rose--wodan hunting st. walpurga--friar eckhardt. the most important remnant of the odin myth is the universal legend of the wild huntsman. the following variants are given by wuttke. [ ] in central and south germany the wild hunt is commonly called wütenden heere, i.e., wodan's army or chase--called in the middle ages, wuotanges heer. the hunter, generally supposed to be abroad during the twelve nights after christmas, is variously called wand, waul, wodejäger, helljäger, nightjäger, hackelberg, hackelberend (man in armour), fro gode, banditterich, jenner. the most common belief is that he is the spectre of a wicked lord or king who sacrilegiously enjoyed the chase on sundays and other holy days, and who is condemned to expiate his sin by hunting till the day of doom. he wears a broad-brimmed hat; is followed by dogs and other animals, fiery, and often three-legged; and in his spectral train are the souls of unbaptized children, huntsmen who have trodden down grain, witches, and others--these being mounted on horses, goats, and cocks, and sometimes headless, or with their entrails dragging behind them. they rush with a fearful noise through the air, which resounds with the cracking of whips, neighing of horses, barking of dogs, and cries of ghostly huntsmen. the unlucky wight encountered is caught up into the air, where his neck is wrung, or he is dropped from a great height. in some regions, it is said, such must hunt until relieved, but are not slain. the huntsman is a nemesis on poachers or trespassers in woods and forests. sometimes the spectres have combats with each other over battlefields. their track is marked with bits of horseflesh, human corpses, legs with shoes on. in some regions, it is said, the huntsmen carry battle-axes, and cut down all who come in their way. when the hunt is passing all dogs on earth become still and quiet. in most regions there is some haunted gorge, hill, or castle in which the train disappears. in thuringia, it is said that, when the fearful noises of the spectral hunt come very near, they change to ravishing music. in the same euphemistic spirit some of the prognostications it brings are not evil: generally, indeed, the apparition portends war, pestilence, and famine, but frequently it announces a fruitful year. if, in passing a house, one of the train dips his finger in the yeast, the staff of life will never be wanting in that house. whoever sees the chase will live long, say the bohemians; but he must not hail it, lest flesh and bones rain upon him. in most regions, however, there is thought to be great danger in proximity to the hunt. the perils are guarded against by prostration on the earth face downward, praying meanwhile; by standing on a white cloth (bertha's linen), or wrapping the same around the head; by putting the head between the spokes of a wheel; by placing palm leaves on a table. the hunt may be observed securely from the cross-roads, which it shuns, or by standing on a stump marked with three crosses--as is often done by woodcutters in south germany. wodan also appears in the schimmelreiter--headless rider on a white horse, in swabia called bachreiter or junker jäkele. this apparition sometimes drives a carriage drawn by four white (or black) horses, usually headless. he is the terrible forest spectre hoimann, a giant in broad-brimmed hat, with moss and lichen for beard; he rides a headless white horse through the air, and his wailing cry, 'hoi, hoi!' means that his reign is ended. he is the bugbear of children. in the odinwald are the riesenäule and riesenaltar, with mystic marks declaring them relics of a temple of odin. near erbach is castle rodenstein, the very fortress of the wild jäger, to which he passes with his horrid train from the ruins of schnellert. the village of reichelsheim has on file the affidavits of the people who heard him just before the battles of leipzig and waterloo. their theory is that if the jäger returns swiftly to schnellert all will go well for germany; but if he tarry at rodenstein 'tis an omen of evil. he was reported near frankfort in ; but it is notable that no mention of him was made during the late franco-german war. a somewhat later and rationalised variant relates that the wild huntsman was hackelberg, the lord of rodenstein, whose tomb--really a druidical stone--is shown at the castle, and said to be guarded by hell-hounds. hackelberg is of old his brunswick name. it was the hackelberg hill that opened to receive the children, which the pied piper of hamelin charmed away with his flute from that old town, because the corporation would not pay him what they had promised for ridding them of rats. it is easy to trace this pied piper, who has become so familiar through mr. robert browning's charming poem, to the odin of more blessed memory, who says in the havamal, 'i know a song by which i soften and enchant my enemies, and render their weapons of no effect.' this latter aspect of odin, his command over vermin, connects him with the slavonic lyeshy, or forest-demon of the russias. the ancient thunder-god of russia, perun, who rides in his storm-chariot through the sky, has in the more christianised districts dropped his mantle on ilya (elias); while in the greater number of slavonic districts he has held his original physical characters so remarkably that it has been necessary to include him among demons. in slavonian folklore the familiar myth of the wild huntsman is distributed--vladimir the great fulfils one part of it by still holding high revel in the halls of kief, but he is no huntsman; perun courses noisily through the air, but he is rather benevolent than otherwise; the diabolical characteristics of the superstition have fallen to the evil huntsmen (lyeshies), who keep the wild creatures as their flocks, the same as shepherds their herds, and whom every huntsman must propitiate. the lyeshy is gigantic, wears a sheepskin, has one eye without eyebrow or eyelash, horns, feet of a goat, is covered with green hair, and his finger-nails are claws. he is special protector of the bears and wolves. in denmark the same myth appears as king volmer's hunt. waldemar was so passionately fond of the chase that he said if the lord would only let him hunt for ever near gurre (his castle in the north of seeland), he would not envy him his paradise. for this blasphemous wish he is condemned to hunt between burre and gurre for ever. his cavalcade is much like that already described. volmer rides a snow-white charger, preceded by a pack of coal-black hounds, and he carries his head under his left arm. on st. john the women open gates for him. it is believed that he is allowed brief repose at one and another of his old seats, and it is said spectral servants are sometimes seen preparing the ruined castle at vordingborg for him, or at waldemar's tower. a sceptical peasant resolved to pass the night in this tower. at midnight the king entered, and, thanking him for looking after his tower, gave him a gold piece which burned through his hand and fell to the ground as a coal. on the other hand, waldemar sometimes makes peasants hold his dogs, and afterwards throws them coals which turn out to be gold pieces. the palnatoke or palne hunter appears mostly in the island of fuen. every new year's night he supplies himself with three horse-shoes from some smithy, and the smith takes care that he may find them ready for use on his anvil, as he always leaves three gold pieces in their stead. if the shoes are not ready for him, he carries the anvil off. in one instance he left an anvil on the top of a church tower, and it caused the smith great trouble to get it down again. king abel was interred after his death in st. peter's church in sleswig, but the fratricide could find no peace in his grave. his ghost walked about in the night and disturbed the monks in their devotions. the body was finally removed from the church, and sunk in a foul bog near gottorp. to keep him down effectively, a pointed stake was drove through his body. the spot is still called königsgrabe. notwithstanding this, he appears seated on a coal-black charger, followed by a pack of black hounds with eyes and tongues of fire. the gates are heard slamming and opening, and the shrieks and yells are such that they appal the stoutest hearts. at the ancient capital of fuen, odense, said to have been built by odin, the myth has been reduced to a spectral christmas-night equipage, which issues from st. canute's church and passes to the ancient manor-house of glorup. it is a splendid carriage, drawn by six black horses with fiery tongues, and in it are seated the lords of glorup, famous for their cruelty to peasants, and now not able to rest in the church where they were interred. it is of evil omen to witness the spectacle: a man who watched for it was struck blind. in france le grand veneur bears various names; he is king arthur, saint hubert, hugo. his alleged appearances within historic times have been so strongly attested that various attempts have been made to give them rational explanations. thus charles vi. of france, when going to war in bretagne, is said to have been met by such a spectre in the forest of mans, and became insane; he believed himself to have been the victim of sorcery, as did many of his subjects. it has been said that the king was met by a disguised emissary of the duc de bretagne. more particular accounts are given of the apparition of the wild huntsman to henry iv. when he was hunting with the comte de soissons in the forest of fontainebleau, an event commemorated by 'la croix du grand veneur.' according to matthieu, [ ] both the king and the count heard the cries of the hunt, and when the count went to discover their origin, the terrible dark figure stood forth and cried, 'you wish to see me, then behold!' this incident has been explained variously, as a project of assassination, or as the jest of two fellows who, in , were amusing paris by their skill in imitating all the sounds of a hunt. but such phantoms had too long hunted through the imagination of the french peasantry for any explanation to be required. robert le diable, wandering in normandy till judgment-day, and king arthur, at an early date domesticated in france as a spectral huntsman (the figure most popularly identified at the time with the phantom seen by henry iv.), are sufficient explanations. the ruins of arthur's castle near huelgoat, finistère, were long believed to hide enormous treasures, guarded by demons, who appear sometimes as fiery lights (ignes fatuui), owls, buzzards, and ravens--one of the latter being the form in which arthur comes from his happy vale of avallon, when he would vary its repose with a hunt. [ ] a sufficiently curious interchange of such superstitions is represented in the following extract from surtees:--'sir anthon bek, busshop of dureme in the tyme of king eduarde, the son of king henry, was the maist prowd and masterfull busshop in all england, and it was com'only said that he was the prowdest lord of christienty. it chaunced that emong other lewd persons, this sir anthon entertained at his court one hugh de pountchardon, that for his evill deeds and manifold robberies had been driven out of the inglische courte, and had come from the southe to seek a little bread, and to live by staylinge. and to this hughe, whom also he imployed to good purpose in the warr of scotland, the busshop gave the land of thikley, since of him called thikley-puntchardon, and also made him his chiefe huntsman. and after, this blake hughe died afore the busshop; and efter that the busshop chasid the wild hart in galtres forest, and sodainly ther met with him hugh de pontchardon, that was afore deid, on a wythe horse; and the said hughe loked earnestly on the busshop, and the busshop said unto him, 'hughe, what makethe thee here?' and he spake never word, but lifte up his cloke, and then he showed sir anton his ribbes set with bones, and nothing more; and none other of the varlets saw him but the busshop only; and ye said hughe went his way, and sir anton toke corage, and cheered the dogges; and shortly efter he was made patriarque of hierusalem, and he same nothing no moe; and this hugh is him that the silly people in galtres doe call le gros veneur, and he was seen twice efter that by simple folk, afore yat the forest was felled in the tyme of henry, father of king henry yat now ys.' upon this uncanny fellow fell the spectral mantle of hugo capet; elsewhere as is probable, worn by nocturnal protestant assemblies--huguenots. the legend of the wild huntsman tinges many old english stories. herne, the hunter, may be identified with him, and the demons, with ghostly and headless wish-hounds, who still hunt evil-doers over dartmoor on stormy nights, are his relations. the withered look of horses grazing on penzance common was once explained by their being ridden by demons, and the fire-breathing horse has found its way by many weird routes to the service of the exciseman in the 'ingoldsby legends,' or that of earl garrett, who rides round the curragh of kildare on a steed whose inch-thick silver shoes must wear as thin as a cat's ear, ere he fights the english and reigns over ireland. the teutonic myth appears very plainly in the story of tregeagle. this man, traced to an old cornish family, is said to have been one of the wickedest men that ever lived; but though he had disposed of his soul to the devil, the evil one was baulked by the potency of st. petroc. this, however, was on condition of tregeagle's labouring at the impossible task of clearing the sand from porthcurnow cove, at which work he may still be heard groaning when wind and wave are high. whenever he tries to snatch a moment's rest, the demon is at liberty to pursue him, and they may be heard on stormy nights in hot pursuit of the poor creature, whose bull-like roar passed into the cornish proverb, 'to roar like tregeagle.' on a pleasant sunday evening in july , i witnessed 'der freischütz' in the newly-opened opera-house at leipzig. never elsewhere have i seen such completeness and splendour in the weird effects of the infernal scene in the wolf's glen. the 'white lady' started forth at every step of rodolph's descent to the glen, warning him back. zamiel, instead of the fiery garb he once wore as samaël, was arrayed in raiment black as night; and when the magic bullet was moulded, the stage swarmed with huge reptiles, fiery serpents crawled on the ground, a dragon-drawn chariot, with wheels of fire, driven by a skeleton, passed through the air; and the wild huntsman's chase, composed of animals real to the eye and uttering their distinguishable cries, hurried past. the animals represented were the horse, hound, boar, stag, chamois, raven, bat, owl, and they rushed amid the wild blast of horns. i could but marvel at the yet more strange and weird history of the human imagination through which had flitted, from the varied regions of a primitive world, the shapes combined in this apotheosis of diablerie. probably if elijah in his fire-chariot, preached about in the neighbouring church that morning, and this wild huntsman careering in the opera, had looked closely at each other and at their own history, they might have found a common ancestor in the mythical mahan bali of india, the king whose austerities raised in power till he excited the jealousy of the gods, until vishnu crushed him with his heel into the infernal regions, where he still exercises sovereignty, and is permitted to issue forth for an annual career (at the onam festival), as described in southey's 'curse of kehama.' and they might probably both claim mythological relationship with yami, lord of death, who, as jami, began in persia the career of all warriors that never died, but sometimes sleep till a magic horn shall awaken them, sometimes dwell, like jami himself and king arthur, in happy isles, and in other cases issue forth at certain periods for the chase or for war--like odin and waldemar--with an infernal train. but how did these mighty princes and warriors become demon huntsmen? in the persian 'desatir' it is related that the animals contested the superiority of man, the two orders of beings being represented by their respective sages, and the last animal to speak opposed the claim of his opponent that man attained elevation to the nature of angels, with the remark, 'in his putting to death of animals and similar acts man resembleth the beasts of prey, and not angels.' the prophet of the world then said, 'we deem it sinful to kill harmless, but right to slay ravenous, animals. were all ravenous animals to enter into a compact not to kill harmless animals, we would abstain from slaying them, and hold them dear as ourselves.' upon this the wolf made a treaty with the ram, and the lion became friend of the stag. no tyranny was left in the world, till man (dehak) broke the treaty and began to kill animals. in consequence of this, none observed the treaty except the harmless animals. [ ] this fable, from the aryan side, may be regarded as showing the reason of the evil repute which gathered around the name of dehak or zohak. the eating of animal food was among our aryan ancestors probably the provisional commissariat of a people migrating from their original habitat. the animals slain for food had all their original consecration, and even the ferocious were largely invested with awe. the woodcutters of bengal invoke kalrayu--an archer tiger-mounted--to protect them against the wild beasts he (a form of siva) is supposed to exterminate; but while the exterminator of the most dangerous animals may, albeit without warrant in the shastr, be respected in india, the huntsman is generally of evil repute. the gentle krishna was said to have been slain by an arrow from the bow of ungudu, a huntsman, who left the body to rot under a tree where it fell, the bones being the sacred relics for which the image of jugernath at orissa was constructed. [ ] it is not known at what period the notion of transmigration arose, but that must have made him appear cannibalistic who first hunted and devoured animals. such was the persian zohak (or dehak). his babylonian form, nimrod, represented also the character of esau, as huntsman; that is, the primitive enemy of the farmer, and of the commerce in grains; the preserver of wildness, and consequently of all those primitive aboriginal idolatries which linger in the heaths (whence heathen) and country villages (whence pagans) long after they have passed away from the centres of civilisation. hunting is essentially barbarous. the willingness of some huntsmen even now, when this serious occupation of an early period has become a sport, to sacrifice not only animal life to their pleasure, but also the interests of labour and agriculture, renders it very easy for us to understand the transformation of nimrod into a demon. in the hebrew and arabian legends concerning nimrod, that 'mighty hunter' is shown as related to the wild elements and their worshipper. when abraham, having broken the images of his father, was brought by terah before nimrod, the king said, 'let us worship the fire!' 'rather the water that quenches the fire,' said abraham. 'well, the water.' 'rather the cloud that carries the water.' 'well, the cloud.' 'rather the wind that scatters the cloud.' 'well, the wind.' 'rather man, for he withstands the wind.' 'thou art a babbler,' said nimrod. 'i worship the fire and will cast thee into it.' when abraham was cast into the fiery furnace by nimrod, and on the seventh day after was found sitting amid the roses of a garden, the mighty hunter--hater of gardens--resolved on a daring hunt for abraham's god himself. he built a tower five thousand cubits high, but finding heaven still far away, he attached a car to two half-starved eagles, and by holding meat above them they flew upward, until nimrod heard a voice saying, 'godless man, whither goest thou?' the audacious man shot an arrow in the direction of the voice; the arrow returned to him stained with blood, and nimrod believed that he had wounded abraham's god. he who hunted the universe was destroyed by one of the weakest of animated beings--a fly. in the aspiring fly which attacked nimrod's lip, and then nose, and finally devoured his brain, the moslem and hebrew doctors saw the fittest end of one whose adventurous spirit had not stopped to attack animals, man, abraham, and allah himself. but though, in one sense, destroyed, nimrod, say various myths, may be heard tumbling and groaning about the base of his tower of babel, where the confusion of tongues took place; and it might be added, that they have, like the groan, a meaning irrespective of race or language. dehak and nimrod have had their brothers in every race, which has ever reached anything that may be called civilisation. it was the barbaric baron and the robber knight of the middle ages, living by the hunt, who, before conversion, made for the faithful eckhardts of the church the chief impediment; they might then strike down the monk, whose apparition has always been the legendary warning of the demon's approach. when the eckhardts had baptized these knights, they had already been transformed to the devils which people the forests of germany, france, and england with their terrible spectres. the wild fables of the east, telling of fell demons coursing through the air, whispered to the people at one ear, and the equally wild deeds of the robber knights at the other. the church had given the people one name for all such phantasms--devil--and it was a name representative of the feelings of both priest and peasant, so long as the robber knights were their common enemy. jesus had to be a good deal modified before he could become the model of this teutonic esau. it is after the tradition of his old relation to huntsmen that the devil has been so especially connected in folklore with soldiers. in the 'annals of leipzig,' kept in auerbach's cellar, famous for the flight of mephisto and faust from its window on a wine-cask, i found two other instances in which the devil was reported as having appeared in that town. in one case ( ), the fiend had tempted one jeremy of strasburg, a marksman, to commit suicide, but that not succeeding, had desired him to go with him to the neighbouring castle and enjoy some fruit. the marksman was saved by help of a dean. in , during a period of excessive cold and snow, the devil induced a soldier to blaspheme. the marksman and the soldier were, indeed, the usual victims of the wild huntsmen's temptations; and it was for such that the unfailing magic bullets were moulded in return for their impawned souls. how king olaf--whose name lingers among us in 'tooley street,' so famous for its three tailors! [ ]--spread the gospel through the north after his baptism in england is well known. whatever other hunt may have been phantasmal, it was not olaf's hunt of the heathen. to put a pan of live coals under the belly of one, to force an adder down the throat of another, to offer all men the alternatives of being baptized or burnt, were the arguments which this apostle applied with such energy that at last--but not until many brave martyrdoms--the chief people were convinced. olaf encountered odin as if he had been a living foe, and what is more, believed in the genuine existence of his former god. once, as olaf and his friends believed, odin appeared to this devastator of his altars as a one-eyed man in broad-brimmed hat, delighting the king in his hours of relaxation with that enchanting conversation for which he was so famous. but he (odin) tried secretly to induce the cook to prepare for his royal master some fine meat which he had poisoned. but olaf said, 'odin shall not deceive us,' and ordered the tempting viand to be thrown away. odin was god of the barbarian junkers, and the people rejoiced that he was driven into holes and corners; his rites remained mainly among huntsmen, and had to be kept very secret. in the gulathings lagen of norway it is ordered: 'let the king and bishop, with all possible care, search after those who exercise pagan rites, who use magic arts, who adore the genii of particular places, of tombs, or rivers, and who, after the manner of devils in travelling, are transported from place to place through the air.' under such very actual curses as these, the once sacred animals of odin, and all the associations of the hunt, were diabolised. even the hunting-horn was regarded as having something præternatural about it. the howling blast when odin consulteth mimir's head [ ] was heard again in the pied piper's flute, and passed southward to blend its note with the horn of roland at roncesvalles,--which brought help from distances beyond the reach of any honest horn, and even with the pipe of pan. that the edda described odin as mounted on a mysterious horse, as cherishing two wolves for pets, having a roasted boar for the daily pièce de résistance of his table, and with a raven on either shoulder, whispering to him the secret affairs of the earth, was enough to settle the reputation of those animals in the creed of christian priests. the raven was, indeed, from of old endowed with the holy awfulness of the christian dove, in the norse mythology. to this day no swede will kill a raven. the superstition concerning it was strong enough to transmit even to voltaire an involuntary shudder at its croak. odin was believed to have given the raven the colour of the night that it might the better spy out the deeds of darkness. its 'natural theology' is, no doubt, given correctly by robert browning's caliban, who, when his speculations are interrupted by a thunderstorm, supposes his soliloquy has been conveyed by the raven he sees flying to his god setebos. in many parts of germany ravens are believed to hold souls of the damned. if a raven's heart be secured it procures an unerring shot. from an early date the boar became an ensign of the prowess of the gods, by which its head passed to be the device of so many barbaric clans and ancient families in the northern world. in vedic mythology we find indra taking the shape of a wild boar, also killing a demon boar, and giving tritas the strength by which a similar monster is slain. [ ] according to another fable, while brahma and vishnu are quarrelling as to which is the first-born, siva interferes and cries, 'i am the first-born; nevertheless i will recognise as my superior him who is able to see the summit of my head or the sole of my feet.' vishnu, transforming himself to a boar, pierced the ground, penetrated to the infernal regions, and then saw the feet of siva, who on his return saluted him as first-born of the gods. de gubernatis regards this fable as making the boar emblem of the hidden moon. [ ] he is hunted by the sun. he guards the treasure of the demons which indra gains by slaying him. in sicilian story, zafarana, by throwing three hog's bristles on embers, renews her husband's youth. in esthonian legend, a prince, by eating pork, acquires the faculty of understanding the language of birds,--which may mean leading on the spring with its songs of birds. but whether these particular interpretations be true or not, there is no doubt that the boar, at an early period, became emblematic of the wild forces of nature, and from being hunted by king odin on earth passed to be his favourite food in valhalla, and a prominent figure in his spectral hunt. enough has already been said of the dog in several chapters of this work to render it but natural that this animal should take his place in any diabolical train. it was not as a 'hell-hound,' or descendant of the guardians of orcus, that he entered the spectral procession of odin, but as man's first animal assistant in the work of obtaining a living from nature. it is the faithful friend of man who is demoralised in waldemar's lystig, the spectre-hound of peel castle, the manthe doog of the isle of man, the sky-dogs (cwn wybir or aunwy) of wales, and roscommon dog of ireland. of the goat, the dog, and some other diabolised animals, enough has been said in previous pages. the nocturnal animals would be as naturally caught up into the wild huntsman's train as belated peasants. but it is necessary to dwell a little on the relations of the horse to this wild hunt. it was the horse that made the primitive king among men. 'the horse,' says dasent, 'was a sacred animal among the teutonic tribes from the first moment of their appearance in history; and tacitus has related how, in the shade of those woods and groves which served them for temples, white horses were fed at the public cost, whose backs no mortal crossed, whose neighings and snortings were carefully watched as auguries and omens, and who were thought to be conscious of divine mysteries. in persia, too, the classical reader will remember how the neighing of a horse decided the choice for the crown. here in england, at any rate, we have only to think of hengist and horsa, the twin heroes of the anglo-saxon migration--as the legend ran--heroes whose name meant horse, and of the vale of the white horse, in berks, where the sacred form still gleams along the down, to be reminded of the sacredness of the horse to our forefathers. the eddas are filled with the names of famous horses, and the sagas contain many stories of good steeds, in whom their owners trusted and believed as sacred to this or that particular god. such a horse is dapplegrimm in the norse tales, who saves his master out of all his perils, and brings him to all fortune, and is another example of that mysterious connection with the higher powers which animals in all ages have been supposed to possess.' it was believed that no warrior could approach valhalla except on horseback, and the steed was generally buried with his master. the scandinavian knight was accustomed to swear 'by the shoulder of a horse and the edge of a sword.' odin (the god) was believed to have always near him the eight-legged horse sleipnir, whose sire was the wonderful svaldilfari, who by night drew the enormous stones for the fortress defending valhalla from the frost-giants. on sleipnir the deity rode to the realm of hela, when he evoked the spirit of the deceased prophetess, vala, with runic incantations, to learn baldur's fate. this is the theme of the veytamsvida, paraphrased by gray in his ode beginning-- up rose the king of men with speed, and saddled straight his coal-black steed the steed, however, was not black, but grey. sleipnir was the foal of a magically-created mare. the demon-mare (mara) holds a prominent place in scandinavian superstition, besetting sleepers. in the ynglinga saga, vanland awakes from sleep, crying, 'mara is treading on me!' his men hasten to help him, but when they take hold of his head mara treads on his legs, and when they hold his legs she tramples on his head; and so, says thiodolf-- trampled to death, to skyta's shore the corpse his faithful followers bore; and there they burnt, with heavy hearts, the good chief, killed by witchcraft's arts. all this is, of course, the origin of the common superstition of the nightmare. the horse-shoe used against witches is from the same region. we may learn here also the reason why hippophagy has been so long unknown among us. odin's boar has left his head on our christmas tables, but olaf managed to rob us of the horse-flesh once eaten in honour of that god. in the eleventh century he proclaimed the eating of horse-flesh a test of paganism, as baptism was of christianity, and punished it with death, except in iceland, where it was permitted by an express stipulation on their embracing christianity. to these facts it may be added that originally the horse's head was lifted, as the horse-shoe is now, for a charm against witches. when wittekind fought twenty years against charlemagne, the ensign borne by his saxon followers was a horse's head raised on a pole. a white horse on a yellow ground is to-day the hanoverian banner, its origin being undoubtedly odinistic. the christian edict against the eating of horse-flesh had probably a stronger motive than sentimental opposition to paganism. a roman emperor had held the stirrup for a christian pontiff to mount, and something of the same kind occurred in the north. the horse, which had been a fire-breathing devil under odin, became a steed of the sun under the baptized noble and the bishop. henceforth we read of coal-black and snow-white horses, as these are mounted in the interest of the old religion or the new. it is very curious to observe how far and wide has gone religious competition for possession of that living tower of strength--the horse. in ancient ceylon we find the buddhist immigrants winning over the steed on which the aborigines were fortified. it was a white horse, of course, that became their symbol of triumph. the old record says-- 'a certain yakkhini (demoness) named chetiya, having the form and countenance of a mare, dwelt near the marsh of tumbariungona. a certain person in the prince's (pandukabhayo) retinue having seen this beautiful (creature), white with red legs, announced the circumstance to the prince. the prince set out with a rope to secure her. she seeing him approach from behind, losing her presence of mind from fear, under the influence of his imposing appearance, fled without (being able to exert the power she possessed of) rendering herself invisible. he gave chase to the fugitive. she, persevering in her flight, made the circuit of the marsh seven times. she made three more circuits of the marsh, and then plunged into the river at the kachchhaka ferry. he did the same, and (in the river) seized her by the tail, and (at the same time grasped) the leaf of a palmira tree which the stream was carrying down. by his supernatural good fortune this (leaf) became an enormous sword. exclaiming, 'i put thee to death!' he flourished the sword over her. 'lord!' replied she to him, 'subduing this kingdom for thee, i will confer it on thee: spare me my life.' seizing her by the throat, and with the point of the sword boring her nostril, he secured her with his rope: she (instantly) became tractable. conducting her to the dhumarakkho mountain, he obtained a great accession of warlike power by making her his battle-steed.' [ ] the wonderful victories won by the prince, aided by this magical mare, are related, and the tale ends with his setting up 'within the royal palace itself the mare-faced yakkhini,' and providing for her annually 'demon offerings.' equally ambiguous with the horse in this zoologic diablerie is the stag. in the heraklean legends we find that hero's son, telephon, nursed by a hind in the woods; and on the other hand, his third 'labour' was the capture of artemis' gold-antlered stag, which brought on him her wrath (it being 'her majesty's favourite stag'). we have again the story of actæon pursuing the stag too far and suffering the fate he had prepared for it; and a reminiscence of it in the 'pentamerone,' when the demon huoreo allures canneloro into the wood by taking the form of a beautiful hind. these complex legends are reflected in northern folklore also. count otto i. of altmark, while out hunting, slept under an oak and dreamed that he was furiously attacked by a stag, which disappeared when he called on the name of god. the count built a monastery, which still stands, with the oak's stump built into its altar. on the other hand, beside the altar of a neighbouring church hang two large horns of a stag said to have brought a lost child home on its back. thus in the old town of steindal meet these contrary characters of the mystical stag, of which it is not difficult to see that the evil one results from its misfortune in being at once the huntsman's victim and scapegoat. [ ] in the legend of st. hubert we have the sign of christ--risen from his tomb among the rich christians to share for a little the crucifixion of their first missionaries in the north--to the huntsmen of europe. hubert pursues the stag till it turns to face him, and behold, between its antlers, the cross! it is a fable conceived in the spirit of him who said to fishermen, 'come with me and i will make you fishers of men.' the effect was much the same in both cases. hubert kneels before the stag, and becomes a saint, as the fishermen left their nets and became apostles. but, as the proverb says, when the saint's day is over, farewell the saint. the fishermen's successors caught men with iron hooks in their jaws; the successors of hubert hunted men and women so lustily that they never paused long enough to see whether there might not be a cross on their forehead also. it was something, however, that the cross which constantine could only see in the sky could be seen by any eye on the forehead of a harmless animal; and this not only because it marked the rising in christian hearts of pity for the animals, but because what was done to the flying stag was done to the peasant who could not fly, and more terribly. the vision of hubert came straight from the pagan heart of western and northern europe. in the bible, from genesis to apocalypse, no word is found clearly inculcating any duty to the animals. so little, indeed, could the christians interpret the beautiful tales of folklore concerning kindly beasts, out of which came the legend of hubert, that hubert was made patron of huntsmen; and while, by a popular development, wodan was degraded to a devil, the baptized sportsman rescued his chief occupation by ascribing its most dashing legends to st. martin and their inspiration to the archangel michael. it is now necessary to consider the light which the german heart cast across the dark shadows of wodan. this is to be discovered in the myth of the white lady. we have already seen, in the confessions of the witches of elfdale, in sweden, that when they were gathering before their formidable devil, a certain white spirit warned them back. the children said she tried to keep them from entering the devil's church at blockula. this may not be worth much as a 'confession,' but it sufficiently reports the theories prevailing in the popular mind of elfdale at that time. it is not doubtful now that this white lady and that devil she opposed were, in pre-christian time, wodan and his wife frigga. the humble people who had gladly given up the terrible huntsman and warrior to be degraded into a devil, and with him the barbaric nimrods who worshipped him, did not agree to a similar surrender of their dear household goddess, known to them as frigga, holda, bertha, mother rose,--under all her epithets the madonna of the north, interceding between them and the hard king of valhalla, ages before they ever heard of a jealous jehovah and a tender interceding mary. dr. wuttke has collected many variants of the myths of frigga, some of which bear witness to the efforts of the church to degrade her also into a fiend. she is seen washing white clothes at fountains, milking cows, spinning flax with a distaff, or combing her flaxen hair. she was believed to be the divine ancestress of the human race; many of the oldest families claimed descent from her, and believed that this ahnenfrau announced to them good fortune, or, by her wailing, any misfortune coming to their families. she brought evil only to those who spoke evil of her. if any one shoots at her the ball enters his own heart. she appears to poor wandering folk, especially children, and guides them to spots where they find heaps of gold covered with the flower called 'forget-me-not'--because her gentle voice is heard requesting, as the only compensation, that the flowers shall be replaced when the gold is removed. the primroses are sacred to her, and often are the keys (thence called 'key-blossoms') which unlock her treasures. the smallest tribute she repays,--even a pebble consecrated to her. every child ascending the burgeiser alp places a stone on a certain heap of such, with the words, 'here i offer to the wild maidens.' these are bertha's kindly fairies. (when frederika bremer was with a picnic on the hudson heights, which washington irving had peopled with the spirits he had brought from the rhine, she preferred to pour out her champagne as a libation to the 'good spirits' of germany and america.) the beautiful white lady wears a golden chain, and glittering keys at her belt; she appears at mid-day or in strong moonlight. in regions where priestly influence is strong she is said to be half-black, half-white, and to appear sometimes as a serpent. she often helps the weary farmer to stack his corn, and sorely-tasked cinderellas in their toil. in pre-christian time this amiable goddess--called oftenest bertha (shining) and mother rose--was related to wodan as the spring and summer to the storms of winter, in which the wild huntsman's procession no doubt originated. the northman's experience of seed-time and harvest was expressed in the myth of this sweet rose hidden through the winter's blight to rise again in summer. this myth has many familiar variants, such as aschenputtel and sleeping beauty; but it was more particularly connected with the later legends of the white lady, as victim of the wild huntsman, by the stories of transformed princesses delivered by youths. rescue of the enchanted princess is usually effected by three kisses, but she is compelled to appear before the deliverer in some hideous aspect--as toad or serpent; so that he is repelled or loses courage. this is the rose hid under the ugliness of winter. when the storm-god wodan was banished from nature altogether and identified with the imported, and naturally inconceivable, satan, he was no more regarded as frigga's rough lord, but as her remorseless foe. she was popularly revered as st. walpurga, the original may queen, and it was believed that happy and industrious children might sometimes see her on may-day with long flowing flaxen hair, fine shoes, distaff in hand, and a golden crown on her head. but for the nine nights after may-day she was relentlessly pursued by the wild huntsman and his mounted train. there is a picture by g. watts of the hunted lady of bocaccio's tale, now in the cosmopolitan club of london, which vividly reproduces the weird impressiveness of this myth. the white lady tries to hide from her pursuer in standing corn, or gets herself bound up in a sheaf. the wild huntsman's wrath extends to all her retinue,--moss maidens of the wood, or holtzweibeln. the same belief characterises waldemar's hunt. it is a common legend in denmark that king volmer rode up to some peasants, busy at harvest on sobjerg hill, and, in reply to his question whether they had seen any game, one of the men said--'something rustled just now in yonder standing corn.' the king rushed off, and presently a shot was heard. the king reappeared with a mermaid lying across his horse, and said as he passed, 'i have chased her a hundred years, and have her at last.' he then rode into the hill. in this way frigga and her little people, hunted with the wild creatures, awakened sympathy for them. the holy friar. eckhardt (who may be taken as a myth and type of the church ad hoc) gained his legendary fame by being supposed to go in advance of the wild huntsman and warn villagers of his approach; but as time went on and a compromise was effected between the hunting barons and the church, on the basis that the sports and cruelties should be paid for with indulgence-fees, eckhardt had to turn his attention rather to the white lady. she was declared a wild huntress, but the epithet slipped to other shoulders. the priests identified her ultimately with freija, or frau venus; and eckhardt was the holy hermit who warned young men against her sorceries in venusberg and elsewhere. but eckhardt never prevailed against the popular love of mother rose as he had against her pursuer; he only increased the attractions of 'frau venus' beyond her deserts. in the end it was as much as the church could do to secure for mary the mantle of her elder sister's sanctity. even then the earlier faith was not eradicated. after the altars of mary had fallen, frigga had vitality enough to hold her own as the white witch who broke the dark one's spells. it was chiefly this helpful mother-goddess to whom the wretched were appealing when they were burnt for witchcraft. at urselberg, wurtemberg, there is a deep hole called the 'nightmaidens' retreat,' in which are piled the innumerable stones that have been cast therein by persons desiring good luck on journeys. these stones correspond to the bones of the , virgins in st. ursula's church at cologne. the white lady was sainted under her name of ursel (the glowing one), otherwise horsel. horselberg, near eisenach, became her haunt as venus, the temptress of tannhaüsers; urselberg became her retreat as the good fairy mother; but the attractions of herself and her moss-maidens, which the church wished to borrow, were taken on a long voyage to rome, and there transmuted to st. ursula and her , virgins. these saints of cologne encountered their ancient mythical pursuers--the wild huntsman's train--in those barbarian huns who are said to have slaughtered them all because they would not break their vows of chastity. the legend is but a variant of wodan's hunt after the white lady and her maidens. when it is remembered that before her transformation by christianity ursula was the huntsman's own wife, frigga, a quaint incident appears in the last meeting between the two. after wodan had been transformed to the devil, he is said to have made out the architectural plan for cologne cathedral, and offered it to the architect in return for a bond for his soul; but, having weakly allowed him to get possession of the document before the bond was signed, the architect drew from under his gown a bone of st. ursula, from which the devil fled in great terror. it was bone of his bone; but after so many mythological vicissitudes wodan and his horsel could hardly be expected to recognise each other at this chance meeting in cologne. chapter xxvii. le bon diable. the devil repainted--satan a divine agent--st. orain's heresy--primitive universalism--father sinistrari--salvation of demons--mediæval sects--aquinas--his prayer for satan--popular antipathies--the devil's gratitude--devil defending innocence--devil against idle lords--the wicked ale-wife--pious offenders punished--anachronistic devils--devils turn to poems--devil's good advice--devil sticks to his word--his love of justice--charlemagne and the serpent--merlin--his prison of air--mephistopheles in heaven. the phrase which heads this chapter is a favourite one in france. it may have had a euphemistic origin, for the giants dreaded by primitive europeans were too formidable to be lightly spoken of. but within most of the period concerning which we have definite knowledge such phrases would more generally have expressed the half-contemptuous pity with which these huge beings with weak intellects were regarded. the devil imported with christianity was made over, as we have seen, into the image of the dummeteufel, or stupid good-natured giant, and he is represented in many legends which show him giving his gifts and services for payments of which he is constantly cheated. le bon diable in france is somewhat of this character, and is often taken as the sign of tradesmen who wish to represent themselves as lavishing their goods recklessly for inadequate compensation. but the large accession of demons and devils from the east through jewish and moslem channels, of a character far from stupid, gave a new sense to that phrase and corresponding ones. there is no doubt that a very distinct reaction in favour of the devil arose in europe, and one expressive of very interesting facts and forces. the pleasant names given him by the masses would alone indicate this,--monsieur de scelestat, lord voland, blümlin (floweret), federspiel (gay-plumed), maitre bernard, maitre parsin (parisian). the devil is not so black as he's painted. this proverb concerning the long-outlawed evil one has a respectable antiquity, and the feeling underlying it has by no means been limited to the vulgar. even the devout george herbert wrote-- we paint the devil black, yet he hath some good in him all agree. robert burns naively appeals to old nick's better nature-- but fare ye weel, auld nickie-ben! o wad ye tak a thought an' men'! ye aiblins might--i dinna ken-- still ha'e a stake; i'm wae to think upon yon den, e'en for your sake! it is hard to destroy the natural sentiments of the human heart. however much they may be overlaid by the transient exigencies of a creed, their indestructible nature is pretty certain to reveal itself. the most orthodox supporters of divine cruelty in their own theology will cry out against it in another. the saint who is quite satisfied that the everlasting torture of satan or judas is justice, will look upon the doom of prometheus as a sign of heathen heartlessness; and the burning of one widow for a few moments on her husband's pyre will stimulate merciful missionary ardour among millions of christians whose creed passes the same poor victim to endless torture, and half the human race with her. it is doubtful whether the general theological conception of the functions of satan is consistent with the belief that he is in a state of suffering. as an agent of divine punishment he is a part of the divine government; and it is even probable that had it not been for the necessity of keeping up his office, theology itself would have found some means of releasing him and his subordinates from hell, and ultimately of restoring them to heaven and virtue. [ ] it is a legend of the island iona that when st. columba attempted to build a church there, the devil--i.e., the same druid magicians who tried to prevent his landing there by tempests--threw down the stones as often as they were piled up. an oracle declared that the church could arise only after some holy man had been buried alive at the spot, and the saint's friend orain offered himself for the purpose. after orain had been buried, and the wall was rising securely, st. columba was seized with a strong desire to look upon the face of his poor friend once more. the wall was pulled down, the body dug up; but instead of orain being found dead, he sat up and told the assembled christians around him that he had been to the other world, and discovered that they were in error about various things,--especially about hell, which really did not exist at all. outraged by this heresy the christians immediately covered up orain again in good earnest. the resurrection of this primitive universalist of the seventh century, and his burial again, may be regarded as typifying a dream of the ultimate restoration of the universe to the divine sway which has often given signs of life through christian history, though many times buried. the germ of it is even in paul's hope that at last 'god may be all in all' ( cor. xv. ). in luke x. , also, it was related that the seventy whom jesus had sent out among the idol-worshipping gentiles 'returned again with joy, saying, lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.' these ideas are recalled in various legends, such as that elsewhere related of the satyr who came to st. anthony to ask his prayers for the salvation of his demonic tribe. on the strength of anthony's courteous treatment of that satyr, the famous consulteur of the inquisition, father sinistrari (seventeenth century), rested much of his argument that demons were included in the atonement wrought by christ and might attain final beatitude. the father affirmed that this was implied in christ's words, 'other sheep i have which are not of this flock: them also i must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold and one shepherd' [ ] (john x. ). that these words were generally supposed to refer to the inclusion of the gentile world was not accepted by sinistrari as impairing his argument, but the contrary. he maintained with great ingenuity that the salvation of the gentiles logically includes the salvation of their inspiring demons, and that there would not be one fold if these aerial beings, whose existence all authorities attested, were excluded. he even intimates, though more timidly, that their father, satan himself, as a participator in the sin of adam and sharer of his curse, may be included in the general provision of the deity for the entire and absolute removal of the curse throughout nature. sinistrari's book was placed on the 'index expurgatorius' at rome in , 'donec corrigatur,' eight years after the author's death; it was republished, 'correctus,' . but the fact that such sentiments had occupied many devout minds in the church, and that they had reached the dignity of a consistent and scholarly statement in theology, was proved. the opinion grew out of deeper roots than new testament phrases or the anthony fables. the church had been for ages engaged in the vast task of converting the gentile world; in the course of that task it had succeeded only by successive surrenders of the impossible principles with which it had started. the prince of this world had been baptized afresh with every european throne ascended by the church. asmodeus had triumphed in the sacramental inclusion of marriage; st. francis d'assisi, preaching to the animals, represented innumerable pious myths which had been impossible under the old belief in a universal curse resting upon nature. the evolution of this tendency may be traced through the entire history of the church in such sects as the paulicians, cathari, bogomiles, and others, who, though they again and again formulated anew the principle of an eternal dualism, as often revealed some further stage in the progressive advance of the christianised mind towards a normal relation with nature. thus the cathari maintained that only those beings who were created by the evil principle would remain unrecovered; those who were created by god, but seduced by the adversary, would be saved after sufficient expiation. the fallen angels, they believed, were passing through earthly, in some cases animal, bodies to the true church and to heaven. such views as these were not those of the learned, but of the dissenting sects, and they prepared ignorant minds in many countries for that revival of confidence in their banished deities which made the cult of witchcraft. st. thomas aquinas, the 'angelical doctor,' in his famous work 'summa theologiæ,' maintains that in the resurrection the bodies of the redeemed will rise with all their senses and organs, including those of sex, active and refined. the authentic affirmation of that doctrine in the thirteenth century was of a significance far beyond the comprehension of the church. aquinas confused the lines between flesh and spirit, especially by admitting sex into heaven. the devil could not be far behind. the true interpretation of his doctrine is to be found in the legend that aquinas passed a night in prayer for the salvation and restoration of the devil. this legend is the subject of a modern poem so fraught with the spirit of the mediæval heart, pining in its dogmatic prison, that i cannot forbear quoting it here:-- all day aquinas sat alone; compressed he sat and spoke no word, as still as any man of stone, in streets where never voice is heard; with massive front and air antique he sat, did neither move or speak, for thought like his seemed words too weak. the shadows brown about him lay; from sunrise till the sun went out, had sat alone that man of grey, that marble man, hard crampt by doubt; some kingly problem had he found, some new belief not wholly sound, some hope that overleapt all bound. all day aquinas sat alone, no answer to his question came, and now he rose with hollow groan, and eyes that seemed half love, half flame. on the bare floor he flung him down, pale marble face, half smile, half frown, brown shadow else, mid shadows brown. 'o god,' he said, 'it cannot be, thy morning-star, with endless moan, should lift his fading orbs to thee, and thou be happy on thy throne. it were not kind, nay, father, nay, it were not just, o god, i say, pray for thy lost one, jesus, pray! 'how can thy kingdom ever come, while the fair angels howl below? all holy voices would be dumb, all loving eyes would fill with woe, to think the lordliest peer of heaven, the starry leader of the seven, would never, never, be forgiven. 'pray for thy lost one, jesus, pray! o word that made thine angel speak! lord! let thy pitying tears have way; dear god! not man alone is weak. what is created still must fall, and fairest still we frailest call; will not christ's blood avail for all? 'pray for thy lost one, jesus, pray! o father! think upon thy child; turn from thy own bright world away, and look upon that dungeon wild. o god! o jesus! see how dark that den of woe! o saviour! mark how angels weep, how groan! hark, hark! 'he will not, will not do it more, restore him to his throne again; oh, open wide that dismal door which presses on the souls in pain. so men and angels all will say, 'our god is good.' oh, day by day, pray for thy lost one, jesus, pray!' all night aquinas knelt alone, alone with black and dreadful night, until before his pleading moan the darkness ebbed away in light. then rose the saint, and 'god,' said he, 'if darkness change to light with thee, the devil may yet an angel be.' [ ] while this might be the feeling of devout philosophers whose minds were beginning to form a conception of a cosmos in which the idea of a perpetual empire of evil could find no place, the humble and oppressed masses, as we have seen in the chapter on witchcraft, were familiarising their minds with the powers and glories of a satan in antagonism to the deities and saints of the church. it was not a penitent devil supplicating for pardon whom they desired, but the veritable prince of the world, to whom as well as to themselves their christian oppressors were odious. they invested the powers which the priests pronounced infernal with those humanly just and genial qualities that had been discarded by ecclesiastical ambition. the legends which must be interpreted in this sense are very numerous, and a few of the most characteristic must suffice us here. the habit of attributing every mishap to the devil was rebuked in many legends. one of these related that when a party were driving over a rough road the waggon broke down and one of the company exclaimed, 'this is a bit of the devil's work!' a gentleman present said, 'it is a bit of corporation work. i don't believe in saddling the devil with all the bad roads and bad axles.' some time after, when this second speaker was riding over the same road alone, an old gentleman in black met him, and having thanked him for his defence of the devil, presented him with a casket of splendid jewels. very numerous are legends of the devil's apparition to assist poor architects and mechanics unable to complete their contracts, even carving beautiful church pillars and the like for them, and this sometimes without receiving any recompense. the devil's apparition in defence of accused innocence is a well-known feature of european folklore. on one occasion a soldier, having stopped at a certain inn, confided to the innkeeper some money he had for safe-keeping, and when he was about to leave the innkeeper denied having received the deposit. the soldier battered down the door, and the neighbours of the innkeeper, a prominent man in the town, put him in prison, where he lay in prospect of suffering death for an attempted burglary. the poor soldier, being a stranger without means, was unable to obtain counsel to defend him. when the parties appeared before the magistrate, a smart young lawyer, with blue hat and white feathers, unknown in the town, volunteered to defend the soldier, and related the whole story with such effect that the innkeeper in his excitement cried, 'devil take me if i have the money!' instantly the smart lawyer spread his wings, and, seizing the innkeeper, disappeared with him through the roof of the court-room. the innkeeper's wife, struck with horror, restored the money. in an altmark version of this story the devil visits the prisoner during the previous night and asks for his soul as fee, but the soldier refuses, saying he had rather die. despite this the devil intervened. it was an old-time custom in denmark for courts to sit with an open window, in order that the devil might more easily fly away with the perjurer. always a democrat, the devil is said in many stories to have interfered in favour of the peasant or serf against the noble. on one occasion he relieved a certain district of all its arrogant and idle noblemen by gathering them up in a sack and flying away with them; but unhappily, as he was passing over the town of friesack, his sack came in collision with the church steeple, and through the hole so torn a large number of noble lords fell into the town--which thence derived its name--and there they remained to be patrons of the steeple and burthens on the people. the devil was universally regarded as a nemesis on all publicans and ale-wives who adulterated the beer they dealt out to the people, or gave short measures. at reetz, in altmark, the legend of an ale-wife with whom he flew away is connected with a stone on which they are said to have rested, and the villagers see thereon prints of the devil's hoof and the woman's feet. this was a favourite theme of old english legends. the accompanying figure ( ), one of the misereres in ludlow parish church, shropshire, represents the end of a wicked ale-wife. a devil on one side reads the long list of her shortcomings, and on the other side hell-mouth is receiving other sinners. a devil with bagpipe welcomes her arrival. she carries with her only her fraudulent measure and the fashionable head-dress paid for out of its wicked gains. in a marionette performance which i witnessed at tours, the accusations brought against the tradesmen who cheated the people were such as to make one wish that the services of some equally strict devil could be secured by the authorities of all cities, to detect adulterators and dealers in false weights and measures. the same retributive agency, in the popular interest, was ascribed to the devil in his attitude towards misers. there being no law which could reach men whose hoarded wealth brought no good to themselves or others, such were deemed proper cases for the interposition of the devil. there is a significant contrast between the legends favoured by the church and those of popular origin. the former, made prominent in frescoes, often show how, at the weighing of souls, the sinner is saved by a saint or angel, or by some instance of service to the church being placed in the scale against the otherwise heavier record of evil deeds. a characteristic legend is that which is the subject of the frescoes in the portico of st. lorenzo church at rome (thirteenth century). st. lawrence sees four devils passing his hermitage, and learns from them that they are going for the soul of henry ii. in the next scene, when the wicked count is weighed, the scroll of his evil deeds far outweighs that of his good actions, until the saint casts into the scale a chalice which the prince had once given to his church. for that one act henry's soul ascends to paradise amid the mortification of the devils. though charles martel saved europe from saracen sway, he once utilised episcopal revenues for relief of the state; consequently a synod declares him damned, a saint sees him in hell, a sulphurous dragon issues from his grave. on the other hand, the popular idea of the fate of distinguished sinners may be found hid under misereres, where kings sometimes appear in hell, and in the early picture-books which contained a half-christianised folklore. it has been observed that the early nature-deities, reflecting the evil and good of nature, in part through the progress of human thought and ideality, and through new ethnical rivalries, were degraded into demons. they then represented the pains, obstructions, and fears in nature. we have seen that as these apparent external evils were vanquished or better understood, the demons passed to the inward nature, and represented a new series of pains, obstructions, and fears. but these, too, were in part vanquished, or better understood. still more, they so changed their forms that the ancient demons-turned-devils were no longer sufficiently expressive to represent them. thus we find that the jews, mohammedans, and christians did not find their several special antagonists impressively represented by either satan, iblis, or beelzebub. each, therefore, personified its foe in accordance with later experiences--an opponent called armillus, aldajjail, antichrist (all meaning the same thing), in whom all other devils were merged. as to their spirit; but as to their forms they shrank in size and importance, and did duty in small ways. we have seen how great dragons were engaged in frightening boys who fished on sundays, or oppressive squires; how satan presided over wine-casks, or was adapted to the punishment of profanity; how hosts of once tremendous fiends turned into the grotesque little forms which callot, truly copying the popular notions around him, painted as motley imps disturbing monks at their prayers. such diminutions of the devils correspond to a parallel process among the gods and goddesses, by which they were changed to 'little people' or fairies. in both cases the transformation is an expression of popular disbelief in their reality. but revivals took place. the fact of evil is permanent; and whenever the old chains of fear, after long rusting, finally break, there follows an insurrection against the social and moral order which alarms the learned and the pious. these see again the instigations of evil powers, and it takes form in the imagination of a dante, a luther, a milton. but when these new portraits of the devil are painted, it is with so much contemporary colouring that they do not answer to the traditional devils preserved in folklore. dante's worm does not resemble the serpent of fable, nor does milton's satan answer to the feathered clown of miracle plays. thus, behind the actual evils which beset any time, there stands an array of grand diabolical names, detached from present perils, on which the popular fancy may work without really involving any theory of absolute evil at all. were starry lucifer to be restored to his heavenly sphere, he would be one great brand plucked from the burning, but the burning might still go on. theology itself had filled the world with other devils by diabolising all the gods and goddesses of rival religions, and the compassionate heart was thus left free to select such forms or fair names as preserved some remnant of ancient majesty around them, or some ray from their once divine halo, and pray or hope for their pardon and salvation. fallen foes, no longer able to harm, can hardly fail to awaken pity and clemency. with the picture of dives and lazarus presented elsewhere (vol. i. p. ) may be instructively compared the accompanying scene of a rich man's death-bed (fig. ), taken from 'ars moriendi,' one of the early block-books. this picture is very remarkable from the suggestion it contains of an opposition between a devil on the dying man's right and the hideous dragon on his left. while the dragon holds up a scroll, bidding him think of his treasure (yntende thesauro), the devil suggests provision for his friends (provideas amicis). this devil seems to be a representative of the rich man's relatives who stand near, and appears to be supported by his ugly superior, who points towards hell as the penalty of not making such provision as is suggested. there would appear to be in this picture a vague distinction between the mere bestial fiend who tempts, and the ugly but good-natured devil who punishes, and whom rich sinners cannot escape by bequests to churches. one of the most notable signs of the appearance of 'the good devil' was the universal belief that he invariably stuck to his word. in all european folklore there is no instance of his having broken a promise. in this respect his reputation stands far higher than that of the christians, seeing that it was a boast of the saints that, following the example of their godhead, who outwitted satan in the bargain for man's redemption, they were continually cheating the devil by technical quibbles. there is a significant saying found among prussian and danish peasants, that you may obtain a thing by calling on jesus, but if you would be sure of it you must call on the devil! the two parties were judged by their representatives. one of the earliest legendary compacts with the devil was that made by st. theophilus in the sixth century; when he became alarmed and penitent, the virgin mary managed to trick satan out of the fatal bond. the 'golden legend' of jacobus de voragine tells why satan was under the necessity of demanding in every case a bond signed with blood. 'the christians,' said satan, 'are cheats; they make all sorts of promises so long as they want me, and then leave me in the lurch, and reconcile themselves with christ so soon as, by my help, they have got what they want.' even apart from the consideration of possessing the soul, the ancient office of satan as legal prosecutor of souls transmitted, to the latest forms into which he was modified, this character for justice. many mediæval stories report his gratitude whenever he is treated with justice, though some of these are disguised by connection with other demonic forms. such is the case with the following romance concerning charlemagne. when charlemagne dwelt at zurich, in the house commonly called 'zum loch,' he had a column erected to which a bell was attached by a rope. any one that demanded justice could ring this bell when the king was at his meals. it happened one day that the bell sounded, but when the servants went to look no one was there. it continued ringing, so the emperor commanded them to go again and find out the cause. they now remarked that an enormous serpent approached the rope and pulled it. terrified, they brought the news to the emperor, who immediately rose in order to administer justice to beast as well as man. after the reptile had respectfully inclined before the emperor, it led him to the banks of the river and showed him, sitting upon its nest and eggs, an enormous toad. charlemagne having examined the case decided thus:--the toad was condemned to be burnt and justice shown to the serpent. the verdict was no sooner given than it was accomplished. a few days after the snake returned to court, bowed low to the king, crept upon the table, took the cover from a gold goblet standing there, dropped into it a precious stone, bowed again and crept away. on the spot where the serpent's nest had been, charlemagne built a church called 'wasserkelch.' the stone he gave to his much-loved spouse. this stone possessed the power of making the owner especially loved by the emperor, so that when absent from his queen he mourned and longed for her. she, well aware that if it came into other hands the emperor would soon forget her, put it under her tongue in the hour of death. the queen was buried with the stone, but charlemagne could not separate himself from the body, so had it exhumed, and for eighteen years carried it about with him wherever he went. in the meantime, a courtier who had heard of the secret virtue of the stone, searched the corpse, and at last found the stone hidden under the tongue, and took it away and concealed it on his own person. immediately the emperor's love for his wife turned to the courtier, whom he now scarcely permitted out of his sight. at cologne the courtier in a fit of anger threw the stone into a hot spring, and since then no one has succeeded in finding it. the love the emperor had for the knight ceased, but he felt himself wonderfully attracted to the place where the stone lay hidden. on this spot he founded aix-la-chapelle, his subsequent favourite place of residence. it is not wonderful that the tradition should arise at aix, founded by the human hero of this romance, that the plan of its cathedral was supplied by the devil; but it is characteristic there should be associated with this legend an example of how he who as a serpent was awarded justice by charlemagne was cheated by the priests of aix. the devil gave the design on condition that he was to have the first who entered the completed cathedral, and a wolf was goaded into the structure in fulfilment of the contract! in the ancient myth and romaunt of 'merlin' may be found the mediæval witness to the diabolised religion of britain. the emasculated saints of the south-east could not satisfy the vigorous race in the north-west, and when its gods were outlawed as devils they brought the chief of them back, as it were, had him duly baptized and set about his old work in the form of merlin! here, side by side with the ascetic jesus, brought by gatien and augustin, was a northern christ, son of an arch-incubus, born of a virgin, baptized in the shrunken jordan of a font, performing miracles, summoning dragons to his aid, overcoming death and hell in his way, brought before his pilate but confounding him, throning and dethroning kings, and leading forth, on the day of pentecost, an army whose knights are inspired by guenever's kisses in place of flaming tongues. how merlin 'went about doing good,' after the northman's ideal of such work; how he saved the life of his unwedded mother by proving that her child (himself) was begotten by a devil without her knowledge; how, as a child, he exposed at once the pretension of the magistrate to high birth and the laxity of his lady and his parson; how he humiliated the priestly astrologers of vortigern, and prophesied the destruction of that usurper just as it came to pass; how he served uther during his seven years' reign, and by enabling him to assume the shape of the duke of cornwall and so enjoy the embraces of the duchess igerna, secured the birth of arthur and hope of the sangréal; [ ] how he defended arthur's legitimacy of birth and assisted him in causing illegitimate births; and how at last he was bound by his own spells, wielded by vivien, in a prison of air where he now remains;--this was the great mediæval gospel of a baptized christian antichrist which superseded the imported kingdom not of this world. merlin was the good devil, but baptism was a fatal vivien-spell to him. he still dwells in all the air which is breathed by anglo-saxon men,--an ever-expanding prison! whether the briton is transplanted in america, india, or africa, he still carries with him the sermon on the mount as inspired by his baptized prince of the air, and his gospel of the day is, 'if thine enemy hunger, starve him; if he thirst, give him fire; if he hate you, heap melted lead on his head!' such remains the soul of the greatest race, under the fatal spell of a creed that its barbarism needs only baptism to be made holiness and virtue. in the reign of george ii., when lord bute and a princess of easy virtue were preying on england, and fanatical preachers were directing their donkeys to heaven beside the conflagration of john bull's house, the eye of hogarth at least (as is shown in our figure , from his 'raree show') was able to see what the baptized merlin had become in his realm of air. the other worldly-devil is serpent-legged hypocrisy. the nineteenth century has replaced merlin by mephistopheles, the devil who, despite a cloven foot, steps firmly on earth, and means the power that wit and culture can bring against the baptized giant force. him the gods fear not, even look upon with satisfaction. in the 'prologue in heaven,' of goethe's 'faust,' the lord is even more gracious to mephistopheles than the jehovah of job was to satan. 'the like of thee have never moved my hate,' he says-- man's active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level; unqualified repose he learns to crave; whence, willingly, the comrade him i gave, who works, excites, and must create, as devil. this is but a more modern expression of the rabbinical fable, already noted, that when the first man was formed there were beside him two spirits,--one on the right that remained quiescent, another on the left who ever moved restlessly up and down. when the first sin was committed, he of the left was changed to a devil. but he still meant the progressive, inquiring nature of man. 'the spirit i, that evermore denies,' says the mephistopheles of goethe. how shall man learn truth if he know not the spirit that denies? how shall he advance if he know not the spirit of discontent? this restless spirit gains through his ignorance a cloven hoof,--a divided movement, sometimes right, sometimes wrong. from his selfishness it acquires a double tongue. but both hoof and serpent-tongue are beneath the evolutional power of experience; they shall be humanised to the foot that marches firmly on earth, and the tongue that speaks truth; and, the baptismal spell broken, merlin shall descend, bringing to man's aid all his sharp-eyed dragons transformed to beautiful arts. chapter xxviii. animalism. celsus on satan--ferocities of inward nature--the devil of lust--celibacy--blue beards--shudendozi--a lady in distress--bahirawa--the black prince--madana yaksenyo--fair fascinators--devil of jealousy--eve's jealousy--noah's wife--how satan entered the ark--shipwrights' dirge--the second fall--the drunken curse--solomon's fall--cellar devils--gluttony--the vatican haunted--avarice--animalised devils--man-shaped animals. 'the christians,' said celsus, 'dream of some antagonist to god--a devil, whom they call satanas, who thwarted god when he wished to benefit mankind. the son of god suffered death from satanas, but they tell us we are to defy him, and to bear the worst he can do; satanas will come again and work miracles, and pretend to be god, but we are not to believe him. the greeks tell of a war among the gods; army against army, one led by saturn, and one by ophincus; of challenges and battles; the vanquished falling into the ocean, the victors reigning in heaven. in the mysteries we have the rebellion of the titans, and the fables of typhon, and horus, and osiris. the story of the devil plotting against man is stranger than either of these. the son of god is injured by the devil, and charges us to fight against him at our peril. why not punish the devil instead of threatening poor wretches whom he deceives?' [ ] the christians comprehended as little as their critic that story they brought, stranger than all the legends of besieged deities, of a devil plotting against man. yet a little historic perspective makes the situation simple: the gods had taken refuge in man, therefore the attack was transferred to man. priestly legends might describe the gods as victorious over the titans, the wild forces of nature, but the people, to their sorrow, knew better; the priests, in dealing with the people, showed that they also knew the victory to be on the other side. a careful writer remarks:--'when these (greek) divinities are in any case appealed to with unusual seriousness, their nature-character reappears.... when poseidon hesitates to defer to the positive commands of zeus (il. xix. ), iris reminds him that there are the erinnyes to be reckoned with (il. xv. ), and he gives in at once. [ ] the erinnyes represent the steady supremacy of the laws and forces of nature over all personifications of them. under uniform experience man had come to recognise his own moral autocracy in his world. he looked for incarnations, and it was a hope born of an atheistic view of external nature. this was the case not only with the evolution of greek religion, but in that of every religion. when man's hope was thus turned to rest upon man, he found that all the titans had followed him. ophincus (ophion) had passed through ophiomorphus to be a man of sin; and this not in one, but by corresponding forms in every line of religious development. the ferocities of outward nature appeared with all their force in man, and renewed their power with the fine armoury of his intelligence. he must here contend with tempests of passion, stony selfishness, and the whole animal creation nestling in heart and brain, prowling still, though on two feet. the theory of evolution is hardly a century old as science, but it is an ancient doctrine of religion. the fables of pilpay and Æsop represent an early recognition of 'survivals.' recurrence to original types was recognised as a mystical phenomenon in legends of the bandit turned wolf, and other transformations. one of the oldest doctrines of eschatology is represented in the accompanying picture (fig. ), from thebes, of two dog-headed apes ferrying over to hades a gluttonous soul that has been weighed before osiris, and assigned his appropriate form. the devils of lust are so innumerable that several volumes would be required to enumerate the legends and superstitions connected with them. but, fortunately for my reader and myself, these, more than any other class of phantoms, are very slight modifications of the same form. the innumerable phallic deities, the incubi and succubæ, are monotonous as the waves of the ocean, which might fairly typify the vast, restless, and stormy expanse of sexual nature to which they belong. in 'the golden legend' there is a pleasant tale of a gentleman who, having fallen into poverty, went into solitude, and was there approached by a chevalier in black, mounted on a fine horse. this knight having inquired the reason of the other's sadness, promised him that, if he would return home, he would find at a certain place vast sums of gold; but this was on condition that he should bring his beautiful wife to that solitary spot in exactly a year's time. the gentleman, having lived in greater splendour than ever during the year, asked his wife to ride out with him on the appointed day. she was very pious, and having prayed to the virgin, accompanied her husband to the spot. there the gentleman in black met them, but only to tremble. 'perfidious man!' he cried, 'is it thus you repay my benefits? i asked you to bring your wife, and you have brought me the mother of god, who will send me back to hell!' the devil having vanished, the gentleman fell on his knees before the virgin. he returned home to find his wife sleeping quietly. were we to follow this finely-mounted gentleman in black, we should be carried by no uncertain steps back to those sons of god who took unto themselves wives of the daughters of men, as told in genesis; and if we followed the virgin, we should, by less certain but yet probable steps, discover her prototype in eve before her fall, virginal as she was meant to remain so far as man was concerned. in the chapters relating to the eden myth and its personages, i have fully given my reasons for believing that the story of eve, the natural childlessness of sarah, and the immaculate conception by mary, denote, as sea-rocks sometimes mark the former outline of a coast, a primitive theory of celibacy in connection with that of a divine or holy family. it need only be added here that this impossible ideal in its practical development was effectual in restraining the sexual passions of mankind. although the reckless proclamation of the wild nature-gods (elohim), 'be fruitful and multiply,' has been accepted by christian bibliolators as the command of jehovah, and philanthropists are even punished for suggesting means of withstanding the effects of nuptial licentiousness, yet they are farther from even the letter of the bible than those protestant celibates, the american shakers, who discard the sexual relation altogether. the theory of the shakers that the functions of sex 'belong to a state of nature, and are inconsistent with a state of grace,' as one of their members in ohio stated it to me, coincides closely with the rabbinical theory that adam and eve, by their sin, fell to the lowest of seven earthly spheres, and thus came within the influence of the incubi and succubæ, by their union with whom the world was filled with the demonic races, or gentiles. it is probable that the fencing-off of eden, the founding of the abrahamic household and family, and the command against adultery, were defined against that system of rape--or marriage by capture--which prevailed among the 'sons of elohim,' who saw the 'daughters of men that they were fair,' and followed the law of their eyes. the older rabbins were careful to preserve the distinction between the bene elohim and the ischim, and it ultimately amounted to that between jews and gentiles. the suspicion of a devil lurking behind female beauty thus begins. the devils love beauty, and the beauties love admiration. these are perils in the constitution of the family. but there are other legends which report the frequency with which woman was an unwilling victim of the lustful anakim or other powerful lords. throughout the world are found legends of beautiful virgins sacrificed to powerful demons or deities. these are sometimes so realistic as to suggest the possibility that the fair captives of savage chieftains may indeed have been sometimes victims of their ogre's voracity as well as his lust. at any rate, cruelty and lust are nearly related. the blue beard myth opens out horrible possibilities. one of the best-known legends in japan is that concerning the fiend shudendozi, who derives his name from the two characteristics of possessing the face of a child and being a heavy drinker. the child-face is so emphasised in the stories that one may suspect either that his fair victims were enticed to his stronghold by his air of innocence, or else that there is some hint as to maternal longings in the fable. at the beginning of the eleventh century, when ichijo ii. was emperor, lived the hero yorimitsa. in those days the people of kiyoto were troubled by an evil spirit which abode near the rasho gate. one night, when merry with his companions, ichijo said, 'who dare go and defy the demon of the rasho gate, and set up a token that he has been there?' 'that dare i,' answered tsuma, who, having donned his mail, rode out in the bleak night to the rasho gate. having written his name on the gate, returning, his horse shivers with fear, and a huge hand coming out of the gate seized the knight's helmet. he struggled in vain. he then cuts off the demon's arm, and the demon flies howling. tsuma takes the demon's arm home, and locks it in a box. one night the demon, having the shape of tsuma's aunt, came and said, 'i pray you show me the arm of the fiend.' 'i will show it to no man, and yet to thee will i show it,' replied he. when the box is opened a black cloud enshrouds the aunt, and the demon disappears with the arm. thereafter he is more troublesome than ever. the demon carried off the fairest virgins of kiyoto, ravished and ate them, no beauty being left in the city. the emperor commands yorimitsa to destroy him. the hero, with four trusty knights and a great captain, went to the hidden places of the mountains. they fell in with an old man, who invited them into his dwelling, and gave them wine to drink; and when they were going he presented them with wine. this old man was a mountain-god. as they proceeded they met a beautiful lady washing blood from garments in a valley, weeping bitterly. in reply to their inquiries she said the demon had carried her off and kept her to wash his clothes, meaning when weary of her to eat her. 'i pray your lordships to help me!' the six heroes bid her lead them to the ogre's cave. one hundred devils mounted guard before it. the woman first went in and told him they had come. the ogre called them in, meaning to eat them. then they saw shudendozi, a monster with the face of a little child. they offered him wine, which flew to his head: he becomes merry and sleeps, and his head is cut off. the head leaps up and tries to bite yorimitsa, but he had on two helmets. when all the devils are slain, he brings the head of shudendozi to the emperor. in a similar story of the same country the lustful ogre by no means possesses shudendozi's winning visage, as may be seen by the popular representation of him (fig. ), with a knight's hand grasping his throat. a singhalese demon of like class is bahirawa, who takes his name from the hill of the same name, towering over kandy, in which he is supposed to reside. the legend runs that the astrologers told a king whose queen was afflicted by successive miscarriages, that she would never be delivered of a healthy child unless a virgin was sacrificed annually on the top of this hill. this being done, several children were borne to him. when his queen was advanced in years the king discontinued this observance, and consequently many diseases fell upon the royal family and the city, after which the annual sacrifice was resumed, and continued until , when the english occupied kandy. the method of the sacrifice was to bind a young girl to a stake on the top of the hill with jungle-creepers. beside her, on an altar, were placed boiled rice and flowers; incantations were uttered, and the girl left, to be generally found dead of fright in the morning. an old woman, who in early years had undergone this ordeal, survived, and her safety no doubt co-operated with english authority to diminish the popular fear of bahirawa, but still few natives would be found courageous enough to ascend the hill at night. one of the lustful demons of ceylon is calu cumara, that is, the black prince. he is supposed to have seven different apparitions,--prince of fire, of flowers, of groves, of graves, of eye-ointments, of the smooth body, and of sexuality. the saga says he was a buddhist priest, who by exceeding asceticism and accumulated merits had gained the power to fly, but passion for a beautiful woman caused him to fall. by disappointment in the love for which he had parted with so much his heart was broken, and he became a demon. in this condition he is for ever tortured by the passion of lustful desire, the only satisfaction of which he can obtain being to afflict young and fair women with illness. he is a very dainty demon, and can be soothed if great care is taken in the offerings made to him, which consist of rice of finest quality, plantains, sugar-cane, oranges, cocoa-nuts, and cakes. he is of dark-blue complexion and his raiment black. in singhalese demonolatry there are seven female demons of lust, popularly called the madana yaksenyo. these sisters are--cama (lust); cini (fire); mohanee (ignorance); rutti (pleasure); cala (maturity); mal (flowers); puspa (perfumes). they are the abettors of seduction, and are invoked in the preparation of philtres. [ ] 'it were well,' said jason to medea, 'that the female race should not exist; then would there not have been any evil among men.' [ ] the same sentiment is in milton-- oh why did god, creator wise, that peopled highest heaven with spirits masculine, create at last this novelty on earth, this fair defect of nature, and not fill the world at once with men, as angels, without feminine? [ ] many traditions preceded this ungallant creed, some of which have been referred to in our chapters on lilith and eve. corresponding to these are the stories related by herodotus of the overthrow of the kingdom of the heraclidæ and freedom of the greeks, through the revenge of the queen, 'the most beautiful of women,' upon her husband candaules for having contrived that gyges should see her naked. candaules having been slain by gyges at the instigation of the queen, and married her, the fates decreed that their crime should be punished on their fifth descendant. the overthrow was by cyrus, and it was associated with another woman, mandane, daughter of the tyrant astyages, mother of cyrus, who is thus, as the madonna, to bruise the head of the serpent who had crept into the greek paradise. [ ] the greeks of pontus also ascribed the origin of the scythian race, the scourge of all nations, to a serpent-woman, who, having stolen away the mares which herakles had captured from gergon, refused to restore them except on condition of having children by him. from the union of herakles with this 'half virgin, half viper,' sprang three sons, of whom the youngest was scythes. not only are feminine seductiveness and liability to seduction represented in the legends of female demons and devils, but quite as much the jealousy of that sex. if the former were weaknesses which might overthrow kingdoms, the latter was a species of animalism which could devastate the home and society. although jealousy is sometimes regarded as venial, if not indeed a sign of true love, it is an outcome of the animal nature. the japanese have shown a true observation of nature in portraying their female oni (devil) of jealousy (fig. ) with sharp erect horns and bristling hair. the raising 'of the ornamental plumes by many birds during their courtship,' mentioned by mr. darwin, is the more pleasing aspect of that emotion which, blending with fear and rage, puffs out the lizard's throat, ruffles the cock's neck, and raises the hair of the insane. [ ] an ancient legend mingles jealousy with the myth of eden at every step. rabbi jarchi says that the serpent was jealous of adam's connubial felicity, and a passage in josephus shows that this was an ancient opinion. the jealousy of adam's second wife felt by his first (lilith) was by many said to be the cause of her conspiracy with the serpent. the most beautiful mediæval picture of her that i have seen was in an illuminated bible in strasburg, in which, with all her wealth of golden hair and her beauty, lilith holds her mouth, with a small rosy apple in it, towards adam. eve seems to snatch it. then there is an old story that when eve had eaten the apple she saw the angel of death, and urged adam to eat the fruit also, in order that he might not become a widower. it is remarkable that there should have sprung up a legend that satan made his second attack upon the race formed by jehovah, and his plan for perpetuating it on earth by means of a flirtation with noah's wife, and also by awakening her jealousy. the older legend concerning noah's wife is that mentioned by tabari, which merely states that she ridiculed the predictions of a deluge by her husband. so much might have been suggested by the silence of the bible concerning her. the moslem tradition that the devil managed to get into the ark is also ancient. he caught hold of the ass's tail just as it was about to enter. the ass came on slowly, and noah, becoming impatient, exclaimed, 'you cursed one, come in quick!' when noah, seeing the devil in the ark, asked by what right he was there, the other said, 'by your order; you said, "accursed one, come in;" i am the accursed one!' this story, which seems contrived to show that one may not be such an ass as he looks, was superseded by the legend which represents satan as having been brought into the ark concealed under noria's (or noraita's) dress. the most remarkable legend of this kind is that found in the eastern church, and which is shown in various mediæval designs in russia. satan is shown, in an early sixteenth century picture belonging to count uvarof (fig. ), offering noah's wife a bunch of khmel (hops) with which to brew kvas and make noah drunk; for the story was that noah did not tell his wife that a deluge was coming, knowing that she could not keep a secret. in the old version of the legend given by buslaef, 'after apocryphal tradition used by heretics,' satan always addresses noah's wife as eve, which indicates a theory. it was meant to be considered as a second edition of the attack on the divine plan begun in eden, and revived in the temptation of sara. satan not only taught this new eve how to make kvas but also vodka (brandy); and when he had awakened her jealousy about noah's frequent absence, he bade her substitute the brandy for the beer when her husband, as usual, asked for the latter. when noah was thus in his cups she asked him where he went, and why he kept late hours. he revealed his secret to his eve, who disclosed it to satan. the tempter appears to have seduced her from noah, and persuaded her to be dilatory when entering the ark. when all the animals had gone in, and all the rest of her family, eve said, 'i have forgotten my pots and pans,' and went to fetch them; next she said, 'i have forgotten my spoons and forks,' and returned for them. all of this had been arranged by satan in order to make noah curse; and he had just slipped under eve's skirt when he had the satisfaction of hearing the intended adam of a baptized world cry to his wife, 'accursed one, come in!' since jehovah himself could not prevent the carrying out of a patriarch's curse, satan was thus enabled to enter the ark, save himself from being drowned, and bring mischief into the human world once more. this is substantially the same legend as that of the mediæval morality called 'noah's ark, or the shipwright's ancient play or dirge.' the devil says to noah's wife:-- yes, hold thee still le dame, and i shall tell thee how; i swear thee by my crooked snout, all that thy husband goes about is little to thy profit. yet shall i tell thee how thou shalt meet all his will; do as i shall bid thee now, thou shalt meet every deal. have here a drink full good that is made of a mightful main, be he hath drunken a drink of this, no longer shall he learn: believe, believe, my own dear dame, i may no longer bide; to ship when thou shalt sayre, i shall be by thy side. there are some intimations in the slavonic version which look as if it might have belonged to some paulician or other half-gnostic theory that the temptation of noraita (eve ii.), and her alienation from her husband, were meant to prevent the repopulation of the earth. [ ] the next attempt of the devil, as agent of the elohistic creation, to ruin the race of man, introduces us to another form of animalism which has had a large expression in devil-lore. it is related in rabbinical mythology that when, as is recorded in gen. ix. , noah was planting a vineyard, the devil (asmodeus) came and proposed to join him in the work. this having been agreed to, this evil partner brought in succession a sheep, a lion, and a hog, and sacrificed them on the spot. the result was that the wine when drunk first gave the drinker the quality of a sheep, then that of a lion, and finally that of a hog. [ ] it was by this means that noah was reduced to swinish inebriation. there followed the curses on those around him, which, however drunken, were those of a father, and reproduced on the cleansed world all the dooms which had been pronounced in eden. if the date of this legend could be made early enough, it would appear to be a sort of revenge for this temptation of noah to drunkenness that talmudic fable shows asmodeus brought under bondage to solomon, and forced to work on the temple, by means of wine. asmodeus had dug for himself a well, and planted beside it a tree, so making for himself a pleasant spot for repose during his goings to and fro on earth. but solomon's messenger benaja managed to cover this with a tank which he filled with wine. asmodeus, on his return, repeated to himself the proverb, 'wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise' (prov. xx. ); yet, being very thirsty, he drank, fell asleep, and when he awoke found himself loaded with chains. however, after working for a time for solomon, he discovered that king's weaknesses and played upon them. solomon was so puffed up with a sense of his power that he accepted a challenge from his slave (asmodeus) to show his superiority without the assistance of his magic ring, and without keeping his competitor in bonds. no sooner was asmodeus free, and in possession of the ring, than he transported solomon four hundred miles away, where he remained for a long time among the seductive beauties of the courts of naamah, rahab, and other she-devils. meanwhile the devil, assuming the form of solomon, sat on his throne, and became the darling of his queen and concubines. the devil of wine and strong drink generally has a wide representation in folklore. we find him in the bibulous serpent of japan, who first loses his eight heads metaphorically, and then literally from the first of swords-men. the performances of mephistopheles in auerbach's cellar are commemorated in its old frescoes, and its motto: 'live, drink, carouse, remembering faust and his punishment: it came slowly, but was in ample measure.' thuringian legends relate that the devil tries to stop the building of churches by casting down the stones, but this may be stopped by the builders promising to erect a winehouse in the same neighbourhood. an old english legend relates that a great man's cellar was haunted by devils who drank up his wine. on one occasion a barrel was marked with holy water, and the devil was found stuck fast on it. gluttony, both in eating and drinking, has had its many personifications. the characteristics of the hunger demons are travestied in such devils as these, only the diabolical, as distinguished from the demonic element, appears in features of luxuriousness. the contrast between the starveling saints of the early church and the well-fed friars of later times was a frequent subject of caricature, as in the accompanying example (fig. ) from the british museum, fourteenth century (ms. arundel), where a lean devil is satisfying himself through a fattened friar. one of the most significant features of the old legend of faust is the persistence of the animal character in which mephistopheles appears. he is an ugly dog--a fit emblem of the scholar's relapse into the canine temper which flies at the world as at a bone he means to gnaw. faust does not like this genuine form, and bids the devil change it. mephistopheles then takes the form of a franciscan friar; but 'the kernel of the brute' is in him still, and he at once loads faust's table with luxuries and wines from the cellars of the archbishop of salzburg and other rich priests. the prelates are fond of their bone too. when mephistopheles and faust find their way into the vatican, it is to witness carousals of the pope and his cardinals. they snatch from them their luxuries and wine-goblets as they are about to enjoy them. against these invisible invaders the holy men bring their crucifixes and other powers of exorcism; and it is all snarling and growling--canine priest against puppy astrologer. nor was it very different in the history of the long contention between the two for the big bone of christendom. the lust of gold had its devils, and they were not different from other types of animalism. this was especially the case with such as represented money, extorted from the people to supply wealth to dissolute princes and prelates. the giants of antwerp represent the power of the pagan monarchs who exacted tribute; but these were replaced by such guardians of tribute-money as the satyr of our picture (fig. ), which edward the confessor saw seated on a barrel of danegeld, vit un déable saer desus le tresor, noir et hidus. there are many good fables in european folklore with regard to the miser's gold, and 'devil's money' generally, which exhibit a fine instinct. a man carries home a package of such gold, and on opening it there drop out, instead of money, paws and nails of cats, frogs, and bears--the latter being an almost personal allusion to the exchange. a french miser's money-safe being opened, two frogs only were found. the devil could not get any other soul than the gold, and the cold-blooded reptiles were left as a sign of the life that had been lived. in the legends of the swarms of devils which beset st. anthony we find them represented as genuine animals. our anglo-saxon fathers, however, were quite unable to appreciate the severity of the conflict which man had to wage with the animal world in southern countries and in earlier times. nor had their reverence for nature and its forms been crushed out by the pessimist theory of the earth maintained by christianity. gradually the representation of the animal tempters was modified, and instead of real animal forms there were reported the bearded bestialities which surrounded st. guthlac and st. godric. the accompanying picture (fig. ) is a group from breughel ( ), representing the devils called around st. james by a magician. these grotesque forms will repay study. if we should make a sketch of the same kind, only surrounding the saint with the real animal shapes most nearly resembling these nondescripts, it would cease to be a diabolical scene. for beastliness is not a character of beasts; it is the arrest of man. it is not the picturesque donkey in the meadow that is ridiculous, but the donkey on two feet; not the bear of zoological gardens that is offensive morally, but the rough, who cannot always be caged; it is the two-legged calf, the snake pretending to be a man, the ape in evening dress, who ever made the problem of evil at all formidable. it was insoluble until men had discovered as science that law of evolution which the ancient world knew as ethics. a hindu fable relates that the animals, in their migration, came to an abyss they could not cross, and that the gods made man as a bridge across it. science and reason confirm these ancient instincts of our race. man is that bridge stretching between the animal and the ideal habitat by which, if the development be normal, all the passions pass upward into educated powers. any pause or impediment on that bridge brings all the animals together to rend and tear the man who cannot convey them across the abyss. a very slight arrest may reveal to a man that he is a vehicle of intensified animalism. the lust of the goat, the pride of the peacock, the wrath of the lion, beautiful in their appropriate forms, become, in the guise of a man uncontrolled by reason, the vices which used to be called possession, and really are insanities. chapter xxix. thoughts and interpretations. i lately heard the story of a pious negro woman whose faith in hell was sorely tried by a sceptic who asked her how brimstone enough could be found to burn all the wicked people in the world. after taking some days for reflection, the old woman, when next challenged by the sceptic, replied, that she had concluded that 'every man took his own brimstone.' this humble saint was unconscious that her instinct had reached the finest thought of milton, whose satan says 'myself am hell.' marlowe's mephistopheles also says, 'where we are is hell.' and, far back as the year , the holy man fursey, who believed himself to have been guided by an angel near the region of the damned, related a vision much like the view of the african woman. there were four fires--falsehood, covetousness, discord, injustice--which joined to form one great flame. when this drew near, fursey, in fear, said, 'lord, behold the fire draws near me.' the angel answered, 'that which you did not kindle shall not burn you.' such association of any principle of justice, even in form so crude, has become rare enough in christendom to excite applause when it appears, though the applause has about it that infusion of the grotesque which one perceives when gallery-gods cheer the actor who heroically declares that a man ought not to strike a woman. when we go back to the atmosphere of paganism we find that retribution had among them a real meaning. nothing can be in more remarkable contrast than the disorderly characterless hell of christendom, into which the murderer and the man who confuses the persons of the godhead alike burn everlastingly in most inappropriate fires, and the hades of egypt, greece, and rome, where every punishment bears relation to the offence, and is limited in duration to the degree of the offence. 'the egyptians,' says herodotus (ii. ), 'were the first who asserted that the soul of man is immortal, and that when the body perishes it enters into some other animal, constantly springing into existence; and when it has passed through the different kinds of terrestrial, marine, and aerial beings, it again enters into the body of a man that is born, and that this revolution is made in three thousand years.' probably plato imported from egypt his fancy of the return of one dead to relate the scenes of heaven and hell, er the armenian (republic, x. ) suggesting an evolution of rhampsinitus (herod. ii. ), who descended to hades alive, played dice with ceres, and brought back gold. the vision of er represents a terrible hell, indeed, but those punished were chiefly murderers and tyrants. they are punished tenfold for every wrong they had committed. but when this punishment is ended, each soul must return to the earth in such animal form as he or she might select. the animals, too, had their choice. er saw that the choice was generally determined by the previous earthly life,--many becoming animals because of some spite derived from their experience. 'and not only did men pass into animals, but i must also mention that there were animals tame and wild who changed into one another, and into corresponding human natures, the good into the gentle, the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations.' sly plato! such is his estimate of what men's selections of their paradises are worth! orpheus chose to be a swan, hating to be born of woman, because women murdered him; ajax became a lion and agamemnon an eagle, because they had suffered injustice from men; atalanta would be an athlete, and the jester thersites a monkey; and odysseus went about to find the life of a private gentleman with nothing to do. if plutarch's friend thespesius had pondered well this irony of plato, he would hardly have brought back from his visit to hades the modification that demons were provided to assign the animal forms in which souls should be born again on earth. they could hardly have done for the wicked anything worse than plato shows them doing for themselves. but the meaning of plutarch is the same. thespesius sees demons preparing the body of a viper for nero to be born into, since it was said the young of that reptile destroy their mother at birth. among the persians the idea of future rewards and punishments exceeds the exactness of the koran--'whoso hath done an atom of justice shall behold it, and whoso hath done an atom of injustice shall behold it.' the persian sufis will even subdivide the soul rather than that any good act should go down with the larger gross of wickedness. sádi tells of a vision where a man was seen in hell, all except one foot, which was twined with flowers. with all his wickedness the man had with that foot shoved a bundle of hay within reach of a weary ox. but while persian poets--sufis, ennobling the old name sophist--preserved thus a good deal of the universalism of parsaism, a mohammedanism hard as the scythians who brought it turned the heart of the people in that country to stone. in the dresden library there is an illuminated persian ms., thought to be seven hundred years old, which has in it what may be regarded as a portrait of ahriman and iblis combined. he is red, has a heavy beard and moustache, and there is a long dragon's crest and mane on his head. he wears a green and blue skirt about his loins. his tongue rolls thirstily between his cruel teeth. he superintends a number of fish-like devils which float in a lake of fire, and swallow the damned. above this scene are the glorified souls, including the shah sitting cross-legged on his rug, who look down on the tortures beneath with evident satisfaction. apparently this is the only amusement which relieves the ennui of their heaven. if anything could make a rational man believe in a fiend-principle in the universe it would be the suggestion of such pictures, that men have existed who could conceive of happiness enjoyed in view of such tortures as these. this and some similar pictures in the east--for instance, that in the temple of horrors at wuchang, china--are absolutely rayless so far as any touch of humanity is concerned. are the shah and his happy fellow-inspectors of tortures really fiends? in the light of our present intelligence they may seem so. certainly no person of refined feeling could now expect to attain any heaven while others were in hell. but it would be possible, if persons could believe that many of those around them are not men and women at all, but fiends in human shape. these ferocious hells are referable to a period when all who incurred the sentences of princes or priests were seen as mere masks of devils; they were only ascribed human flesh that they may suffer. the dogma of hell was doomed from the moment that the damned were supposed to be really human. were those who killed the martyrs of heresy, for instance, to return to the world and look upon those whom they pierced, they could never recognise them. were they to see the statues of bruno, huss, cranmer, servetus, the names and forms would not recall to them the persons they slew. they would be shocked if told that they had burned great men, and would surely answer, 'men? we burned no men. the devil came among us calling himself huss, and we made short work with him; he reappeared under several aliases--bruno, servetus, spinoza, voltaire: sometimes we burned him, at other times managed to make him miserable, thank god! but we were not hurting real men, we were saving them.' around such ideas grew our yet uncivilised codes of law. in england, anno , men are refused as jury-men if they will not say, 'so help me god!' on the ground that an atheist cannot have a conscience. only let him really be without conscience, and call himself a christian when he is not, and courts receive the selfish liar with respect. the old clause of the death-sentence--'instigated thereto by the devil'--has been dropped in the case of murderers, however; and that is some gain. torture by fire of the worst murderer for one day would not be permitted in christendom. belief in hell-fire outlasts it for a little among the ignorant. but what shall be said of the educated who profess to believe it? the venerable bede relates that, in the year , a northumbrian gentleman, who had died in the beginning of the night, came to life and health in the morning, and gave an account of what he had seen overnight. he had witnessed the conventional tortures of the damned, but adds--'being thus on all sides enclosed with enemies and darkness, and looking about on every side for assistance, there appeared to me, on the way that i came, as it were, the brightness of a star shining amidst the darkness, which increased by degrees,'--but we need not go on to the anti-climax of this vision. this star rising above all such visions belongs to the vault of the human love, and it is visible through all the ages of darkness. it cannot be quenched, and its fiery rays have burnt up mountains of iniquity. 'in the year ,' writes flögel, after the 'chronicon sampetrinum erfurtense,' 'there was a play shown at eisenach, which had a tragical enough effect. markgraf friedrich of misnia, landgraf also of thuringia, having brought his tedious warfare to a conclusion, and the country beginning now to revive under peace, his subjects were busy repaying themselves for the past distresses by all manner of diversions; to which end, apparently by the sovereign's order, a dramatic representation of the ten virgins was schemed, and at eisenach, in his presence, duly executed. this happened fifteen days after easter, by indulgence of the preaching friars. in the 'chronicon sampetrinum' stands recorded that the play was enacted in the bear garden (in horto ferarum) by the clergy and their scholars. but now, when it came to pass that the wise virgins would give the foolish no oil, and these latter were shut out from the bridegroom, they began to weep bitterly, and called on the saints to intercede for them; who however, even with mary at their head, could effect nothing from god; but the foolish virgins were all sentenced to damnation. which things the landgraf seeing and hearing, he fell into a doubt, and was very angry; and said 'what then is the christian faith, if god will not take pity on us for intercession of mary and all the saints?' in this anger he continued five days; and the learned men could hardly enlighten him to understand the gospel. thereupon he was struck with apoplexy, and became speechless and powerless; in which sad state he continued, bedrid, two years and seven months, and so died, being then fifty-five.' in telling the story carlyle remarks that these 'ten virgins at eisenach are more fatal to warlike men than Æschylus' furies at athens were to weak women.' even so, until great-hearted men rose up at eisenach and elsewhere to begin the work destined to prove fatal alike to heartless virgins and furies. that star of a warrior's compassion, hovering over the foolish friars and their midnight gospel, beams far. the story reminds me of an incident related of a mining district in california, where a rude theatre was erected, and a company gave, as their first performance, othello. when the scene of desdemona's suffocation approached, a stalwart miner leaped on the stage, and pulling out his six-shooter, said to the moor, 'you damned nigger! if you touch that woman i'll blow the top of your head off!' a dozen roughs, clambering over the footlights, cried, 'right joe! we'll stand by you!' the manager met the emergency by crying, 'don't shoot, boys! this play was wrote by bill shakespear; he's an old californian, and it's all in fun!' had this moor proceeded to roast desdemona in fire with any verisimilitude, it is doubtful if the manager could have saved him by an argument reminding the miners that such was the divine way with sinners in the region to which most of them were going. the top of that theologic hell's head is not very safe in these days when human nature is unchained with all its six-shooters, each liable to be touched off by fire from that star revolving in the sphere of compassion. day after day i gazed upon michael angelo's 'last judgment' in the sistine chapel. the artist was in his sixtieth year when pope clement vii. invited him to cover a wall sixty feet high and nearly as wide with a picture of the day of wrath. in seven years he had finished it. clement was dead. pope paul iv. looked at it, and liked it not: all he could see was a vast number of naked figures; so he said it was not fit for the sistine chapel, and must be destroyed. one of michael angelo's pupils saved it by draping some of the figures. time went on, and another pope came who insisted on more drapery,--so the work was disfigured again. however, popular ridicule saved this from going very far, and so there remains the tremendous scene. but popes and cardinals always disliked it. the first impression i received from it was that of a complete representation of all the physical powers belonging to organised life; though the forms are human, every animal power is there, leaping, crouching, crawling,--every sinew, joint, muscle, portrayed in completest tension and action. then the eye wanders from face to face, and every passion that ever crawled or prowled in jungle or swamp is pictured. the most unpleasant expressions seemed to me those of the martyrs. they came up from their graves, each bringing the instrument by which he had suffered, and offering it in witness against the poor wretches who came to be judged; and there was a look of self-righteous satisfaction on their faces as they witnessed the persecution of their persecutors. as for christ, he was like a fury, with hand uplifted against the doomed, his hair wildly floating. the tortured people below are not in contrast with the blessed above; they who are in heaven look rather more stupid than the others, and rather pleased with the anguish they witness, but not more saintly. but gradually the eye, having wandered over the vast canvas, from the tortured cardinal at the bottom up to the furious judge,--alights on a face which, once seen, is never to be forgotten. beautiful she is, that mary beside the judge, and more beautiful for the pain that is on her face. she has drawn her drapery to veil from her sight the anguish below; she has turned her face from the judge,--does not see her son in him; she looks not upon the blessed,--for she, the gentle mother, is not in heaven; she cannot have joy in sight of misery. in that one face of pure womanly sympathy--that beauty transfigured in its compassionateness--the artist put his soul, his religion. mary's face quenches all the painted flames. they are at once made impossible. the same universe could not produce both a hell and that horror of it. the furious jesus is changed to a phantasm; he could never be born of such a mother. if the popes had only wished to hide the nakedness of their own dogmas they ought to have blotted out mary's face; for as it now stands the rest of the forms are but shapes to show how all the wild forms and passions of human animalism gather as a frame round that which is their consummate flower,--the spirit of love enshrined in its perfect human expression. so was it that michael angelo could not serve two masters. popes might employ him, but he could not do the work they liked. 'the passive master lent his hand to the vast soul that o'er him planned.' he could not help it. the lover of beauty could not paint the day of wrath without setting above it that face like a star which shines through its unreality, burns up its ugliness, and leaves the picture a magnificent interpretation of the forms of nature and hopes of the world,--a cardinal hypocrite at the bottom, an ideal woman at the top. exhausted by the too-much glory of the visions of paradise which he had seen, dante came forth to the threshold opening on the world of human life, from which he had parted for a space, and there sank down. as he lay there angels caused lilies to grow beneath and around him, and myrtle to rise and intertwine for a bower over him, and their happy voices, wafted in low-toned hymns, brought soft sleep to his overwrought senses. long had he slumbered before the light of familiar day stole once more into those deep eyes. the angels had departed. the poet awoke to find himself alone, and with a sigh he said to himself, 'it is, then, all but a dream.' as he arose he saw before him a man of noble mien and shining countenance, habited in an eastern robe, who returned his gaze with an interest equal to his own. quickly the eyes of dante searched the ground beside the stranger to see if he were shadowless: convinced thus that he was true flesh and blood, the florentine thus addressed him:-- 'pilgrim, for such thou seemest, may we meet in simple human brotherhood? if, as thy garb suggests, thou comest from afar, perchance the friendly greeting, even of one who in his native city is still himself a pilgrim, may not be unwelcome. 'heart to heart be our kiss, my brother; yet must i journey without delay to those who watch and wait for wondrous tidings that i bear. 'friend! i hear some meaning deeper than thy words. if 'twere but as satisfying natural curiosity, answer not; but if thou bearest a burden of tidings glad for all human-kind, speak! who art thou? whence comest, and with what message freighted? 'arda viráf is the name i bear; from persia have i come; but by what strange paths have reached this spot know i not, save that through splendours of worlds invisible to mortal sense i have journeyed, nor encountered human form till i found thee slumbering on this spot. 'trebly then art thou my brother! i too have but now, as to my confused sense it seems, emerged from that vast journey. thou clearest from me gathering doubts that those visions were illusive. yet, as even things we really see are often overlaid by images that lurk in the eye, i pray thee tell me something thou hast seen, so that perchance we may part with mutual confirmation of our vision. 'that gladly will i do. when the avesta had been destroyed, and the sages of iran disagreed as to the true religion, they agreed that one should be chosen by lot to drink the sacred draught of vishtasp, that he might pass to the invisible world and bring intelligence therefrom. on me the lot fell. beside the fire that has never gone out, surrounded by holy women who chanted our hymns, i drank the three cups--well thought, well said, well done. then as i slept there rose before me a high stairway of three steps; on the first was written, well thought; on the second, well said; on the third, well done. by the first step i reached the realm where good thoughts are honoured: there were the thinkers whose starlike radiance ever increased. they offered no prayers, they chanted no liturgies. above all was the sphere of the liberal. the next step brought me to the circle of great and truthful speakers: these walked in lofty splendour. the third step brought me to the heaven of good actions. i saw the souls of agriculturists surrounded by spirits of water and earth, trees and cattle. the artisans were seated on embellished thrones. sublime were the seats of teachers, interceders, peace-makers; and the religious walked in light and joy with which none are satiated. 'sawest thou the fairest of earth-born ladies--beatrice? 'i saw indeed a lady most fair. in a pleasant grove lay the form of a man who had but then parted from earth. when he had awakened, he walked through the grove and there met him this most beautiful maiden. to her he said, 'who art thou, so fair beyond all whom i have seen in the land of the living?' to him she replied, 'o youth, i am thy actions.' can this be thy lady beatrice? 'but sawest thou no hell? no dire punishments? 'alas! sad scenes i witnessed, sufferers whose hell was that their darkness was amid the abodes of splendour. amid all that glow one newly risen from earth walked shivering with cold, and there walked ever by his side a hideous hag. on her he turned and said, 'who art thou, that ever movest beside me, thou that art monstrous beyond all that i have seen on earth?' to him she replied, 'man, i am thy actions.' 'but who were those glorious ones thou sawest in paradise? 'some of their names i did indeed learn--zoroaster, socrates, plato, buddha, confucius, christ. 'what do i hear! knowest thou that none of these save that last holy one--whom methinks thou namest too lightly among men--were baptized? those have these eyes sorrowfully beheld in pain through the mysterious justice of god. 'thinkest thou, then, thy own compassion deeper than the mercy of ormuzd? but, ah! now indeed i do remember. as i conversed with the sages i had named, they related to me this strange event. by guidance of one of their number, virgil by name, there had come among them from the earth a most powerful magician. he bore the name of dante. by mighty spells this being had cast them all into a sad circle which he called limbo, over whose gate he wrote, though with eyes full of tears, 'all hope abandon, ye who enter here!' thus were they in great sorrow and dismay. but, presently, as this strange dante was about to pass on, so they related, he looked upon the face of one among them so pure and noble that though he had styled him 'pagan,' he could not bear to abandon him there. this was cato of utica. him this dante led to the door, and gave him liberty on condition that he would be warder of his unbaptized brethren, and by no means let any of them escape. no sooner, however, was this done than this magician beheld others who moved his reverence,--among them trajan and ripheus,--and overcome by an impulse of love, he opened a window in the side of limbo, bidding them emerge into light. he then waved his christian wand to close up this aperture, and passed away, supposing that he had done so; but the limit of that magician's power had been reached, the window was but veiled, and after he had gone all these unbaptized ones passed out by that way, and reascended to the glory they had enjoyed before this dante had brought his alien sorceries to bear upon them for a brief space. 'can this be true? is it indeed so that all the sages and poets of the world are now in equal rank whether or not they have been sealed as members of christ? 'brother, thy brow is overcast. what! can one so pure and high of nature as thou desire that the gentle christ, whom i saw embracing the sages and prophets of other ages, should turn upon them with hatred and bind them in gloom and pain like this dante?' thereupon, with a flood of tears, dante fell at the feet of arda viráf, and kissed the hem of his skirt. 'purer is thy vision, o pilgrim, than mine,' he said. 'i fear that i have but borne with me to the invisible world the small prejudices of my little church, which hath taught me to limit the love which i now see to be boundless. thou who hast learned from thy zoroaster that the meaning of god is the end of all evil, a universe climbing to its flower in joy, deign to take the hand of thy servant and make him worthy to be thy friend,--with thee henceforth to abandon the poor formulas which ignorance substitutes for virtue, and ascend to the beautiful summits thou has visited by the stairway of good thoughts, good words, good deeds.' in swedenborg was a student of natural philosophy in london. in the april of that year his 'revelations' began amid the smoke and toil of the great metropolis. 'i was hungry and ate with great appetite. towards the end of the meal i remarked a kind of mist spread before my eyes, and i saw the floor of my room covered with hideous reptiles, such as serpents, toads, and the like. i was astonished, having all my wits about me, being perfectly conscious. the darkness attained its height and then passed away. i now saw a man sitting in the corner of the chamber. as i had thought myself alone, i was greatly frightened when he said to me, 'eat not as much.' in swedenborg's diary the incident is related more particularly. 'in the middle of the day, at dinner, an angel spoke to me, and told me not to eat too much at table. whilst he was with me, there plainly appeared to me a kind of vapour steaming from the pores of my body. it was a most visible watery vapour, and fell downwards to the ground upon the carpet, where it collected and turned into divers vermin, which were gathered together under the table, and in a moment went off with a pop or noise. a fiery light appeared within them, and a sound was heard, pronouncing that all the vermin that could possibly be generated by unseemly appetite were thus cast out of my body, and burnt up, and that i was now cleansed from them. hence we may know what luxury and the like have for their bosom contents.' continuing the first account swedenborg said, 'the following night the same man appeared to me again. i was this time not at all alarmed. the man said, 'i am god, the lord, the creator, and redeemer of the world. i have chosen thee to unfold to men the spiritual sense of the holy scripture. i will myself dictate to thee what thou shalt write.' the same night the world of spirits, hell and heaven, were convincingly opened to me, where i found many persons of my acquaintance of all conditions. from that day forth i gave up all worldly learning, and laboured only in spiritual things, according to what the lord commanded me to write.' he 'gave up all worldly learning,' shut his intellectual eyes, and sank under all the nightmares which his first vision saw burnt up as vermin. after his fiftieth year, says emerson, he falls into jealousy of his intellect, makes war on it, and the violence is instantly avenged. but the portrait of the blinded mystic as drawn by the clear seer is too impressive an illustration to be omitted here. 'a vampyre sits in the seat of the prophet and turns with gloomy appetite to the images of pain. indeed, a bird does not more readily weave its nest or a mole bore in the ground than this seer of the souls substructs a new hell and pit, each more abominable than the last, round every new crew of offenders. he was let down through a column that seemed of brass, but it was formed of angelic spirits, that he might descend safely amongst the unhappy, and witness the vastation of souls; and heard there, for a long continuance, their lamentations; he saw their tormentors, who increase and strain pangs to infinity; he saw the hell of the jugglers, the hell of the assassins, the hell of the lascivious; the hell of robbers, who kill and boil men; the infernal tun of the deceitful; the excrementitious hells; the hell of the revengful, whose faces resembled a round, broad cake, and their arms rotate like a wheel.... the universe, in his poem, suffers under a magnetic sleep, and only reflects the mind of the magnetiser.... swedenborg and behmon both failed by attaching themselves to the christian symbol, instead of to the moral sentiment, which carries innumerable christianities, humanities, divinities, in its bosom.... another dogma, growing out of this pernicious theologic limitation, is this inferno. swedenborg has devils. evil, according to old philosophers, is good in the making. that pure malignity can exist, is the extreme proposition of unbelief.... to what a painful perversion had gothic theology arrived, that swedenborg admitted no conversion for evil spirits! but the divine effort is never relaxed; the carrion in the sun will convert itself to grass and flowers; and man, though in brothels, or jails, or on gibbets, is on his way to all that is good and true.' but even the hell of swedenborg is not free from the soft potency of our star. it is almost painful, indeed, to see its spiritual ray mingling with the fiery fever-shapes which swedenborg meets on his way through the column of brass,--made, had he known it, not of angels but of savage scriptures. 'i gave up all worldly learning'--he says: but it did not give him up all at once. 'they (the damned) suffer ineffable torments; but it was permitted to relieve or console them with a certain degree of hope, so that they should not entirely despair. for they said they believed the torment would be eternal. they were relieved or consoled by saying that god messiah is merciful, and that in his word we read that 'the prisoners will be sent forth from the pit' (zech. ix. ). swedenborg reports that god messiah appeared to these spirits, and even embraced and kissed one who had been raised from 'the greatest torment.' he says, 'punishment for the sake of punishment is the punishment of a devil,' and affirms that all punishment is 'to take away evils or to induce a faculty of doing good.' these utterances are in his diary, and were written before he had got to the bottom of his calvinistic column; but even in the 'arcana celestia' there is a gleam:--'such is the equilibrium of all things in another life that evil punishes itself, and unless it were removed by punishments the evil spirits must necessarily be kept in some hell to eternity.' reductio ad absurdum! and yet swedenborgians insist upon the dogma of everlasting punishments; to sustain which they appeal from swedenborg half-sober to swedenborg mentally drunk. in the library at dresden there is a series of old pictures said to be mexican, and which i was told had been purchased from a jew in vienna, containing devils mainly of serpent characters blended with those of humanity. one was a fantastic serpent with human head, sharp snoutish nose, many eyes, slight wings, and tongue lolling out. another had a human head and reptilian tail. a third is human except for the double tongue darting out. a fourth has issuing from the back of his head a serpent whose large dragon head is swallowing a human embryo. whatever tribe it was that originated these pictures must have had very strong impressions of the survival of the serpent in some men. i was reminded of the picture of the serpent swallowing the human embryo while looking at the wall-pictures in russian churches representing the conventional serpent with devils nestling at intervals along its body, as represented in our figure ( ). professor buslaef gave me the right archæology of this, no doubt, but the devils themselves, as i gazed, seemed to intimate another theory with their fair forms. they might have been winged angels but for their hair of flame and cruel hooks. they seemed to say, 'we were the ancient embryo-gods of the human imagination, but the serpent swallowed us. he swallowed us successively as one after another we availed ourselves of his cunning in our priesthoods; as we brought his cruel coils to crush those who dared to outgrow our cult; as we imitated his fang in the deadliness with which we bit the heel of every advancing thinker; as, when worsted in our struggle against reason, we took to the double tongue, praising with one fork the virtues which we poisoned with the other. now we are degraded with him for ever, bound to him by these rings, labelled with the sins we have committed.' it was by a true experience that the ancients so generally took nocturnal animals to be types of diabolism. corresponding to them are the sleepless activities of morally unawakened men. the animal is a sleeping man. its passions and instincts are acted out in what to rational man would be dreams. in dreams, especially when influenced by disease, a man may mentally relapse very far, and pass through kennels and styes, which are such even when somewhat decorated by shreds of the familiar human environment. the nocturnal form of intellect is cunning; the obscuration of religion is superstition; the dark shadow that falls on love turns it to lust. these wolves and bats, on which no ideal has dawned, do not prowl or flit through man in their natural forms: in the half-awake consciousness, whose starlight attends man amid his darkness, their misty outlines swell, and in the feverish unenlightened conscience they become phantasms of his animalism--werewolves, vampyres. the awakening of reason in any animal is through all the phases of cerebral and social evolution. a wise man said to his son who was afraid to enter the dark, 'go on, child; you will never see anything worse than yourself.' the hare-lip, which we sometimes see in the human face, is there an arrested development. every lip is at some embryonic period a hare-lip. the development of man's visible part has gone on much longer than his intellectual and moral evolution, and abnormalities in it are rare in comparison with the number of survivals from the animal world in his temper, his faith, and his manners. criminals are men living out their arrested moral developments. they who regard them as instigated by a devil are those whose arrest is mental. the eye of reason will deal with both all the more effectively, because with as little wrath as a surgeon feels towards the hare-lip he endeavours to humanise. it is an impressive fact that the great and reverent mind of spinoza, in pondering the problem of evil and the theology which ascribed it to a devil, was unconsciously led to anticipate by more than a century the first (modern) scientific suggestions of the principle of evolution. in his early treatise, 'de deo et homine,' occurs this short but momentous chapter-- 'de diabolis. if the devil be an entity contrary in all respects to god, having nothing of god in his nature, there can be nothing in common with god. 'is he assumed to be a thinking entity, as some will have it, who never wills and never does any good, and who sets himself in opposition to god on all occasions, he would assuredly be a very wretched being, and, could prayers do anything for him, his amendment were much to be implored. 'but let us ask whether so miserable an object could exist even for an instant; and, the question put, we see at once that it could not; for from the perfection of a thing proceeds its power of continuance: the more of the essential and divine a thing possesses, the more enduring it is. but how could the devil, having no trace of perfection in him, exist at all? add to this, that the stability or duration of a thinking thing depends entirely on its love of and union with god, and that the opposite of this state in every particular being presumed in the devil, it is obviously impossible that there can be any such being. 'and then there is indeed no necessity to presume the existence of a devil; for the causes of hate, envy, anger, and all such passions are readily enough to be discovered; and there is no occasion for resort to fiction to account for the evils they engender.' in the course of his correspondence with the most learned men of his time, spinoza was severely questioned concerning his views upon human wickedness, the disobedience of adam, and so forth. he said--to abridge his answers--if there be any essential or positive evil in men, god is the author and continuer of that evil. but what is called evil in them is their degree of imperfection as compared with those more perfect. adam, in the abstract, is a man eating an apple. that is not in itself an evil action. acts condemned in man are often admired in animals,--as the jealousy of doves,--and regarded as evidence of their perfection. although man must restrain the forces of nature and direct them to his purposes, it is a superstition to suppose that god is angry against such forces. it is an error in man to identify his little inconveniences as obstacles to god. let him withdraw himself from the consideration and nothing is found evil. whatever exists, exists by reason of its perfection for its own ends,--which may or may not be those of men. spinoza's aphorism, 'from the perfection of a thing proceeds its power of continuance,' is the earliest modern statement of the doctrine now called 'survival of the fittest.' the notion of a devil involves the solecism of a being surviving through its unfitness for survival. spinoza was copernicus of the moral cosmos. the great german who discovered to men that their little planet was not the one centre and single care of nature, led the human mind out of a closet and gave it a universe. but dogma still clung to the closet; where indeed each sect still remains, holding its little interest to be the aim of the solar system, and all outside it to be part of a countless host, marshalled by a prince of evil, whose eternal war is waged against that formidable pulpiteer whose sermon is sending dismay through pandemonium. but for rational men all that is ended, and its decline began when spinoza warned men against looking at the moral universe from the pin-hole of their egotism. that closet-creation, whose laws were seen now acting now suspended to suit the affairs of men, disappeared, and man was led to adore the all. it is a small thing that man can bruise the serpent's head, if its fang still carries its venom so deep in his reason as to blacken all nature with a sense of triumphant malevolence. to the eye of judicial man, instructed to decide every case without bribe of his own interest as a rival animal, the serpent's fang is one of the most perfect adaptations of means to ends in nature. were a corresponding perfection in every human mind, the world would fulfil the mystical dream of the east, which gave one name to the serpents that bit them in the wilderness and seraphim singing round the eternal throne. 'cursed be the hebrew who shall either eat pork, or permit his son to be instructed in the learning of the greeks.' so says the talmud, with a voice transmitted from the 'kingdom of priests' (exod. xix. ). from the altar of 'unhewn stone' came the curse upon art, and upon the race that represented culture raising its tool upon the rudeness of nature. that curse of the talmud recoiled fearfully. the jewish priesthood had their son in peter with his vision of clean and unclean animals, and the command, 'slay and eat!' uninstructed is this heir of priestly judaism 'in the learning of the greeks,' consequently his way of converting gentiles--the herd of swine, the goyim--is to convert them into christian protoplasm. 'slay and eat,' became the cry of the elect, and their first victim was the paternal jew who taught them that pork and greek learning belonged to the same category. but there was another jewish nation not composed of priests. while the priestly kingdom is typified in jonah announcing the destruction of nineveh, who, because the great city still goes on, reproaches jehovah, the nation of the poets has now its jehovah ii. who sees the humiliation of the tribal priesthood as a withered gourd compared with the arts, wealth, and human interests of a gentile city. 'the lord repented.' the first gospel to the gentiles is in that gentle thought for the uncircumcised ninevites. but it was reached too late. when it gained expression in christ welcoming greeks, and seeing in stones possible 'children of abraham;' in paul acknowledging debt to barbarians and taking his texts from greek altars or poets; the evolution of the ideal element in hebrew religion had gained much. but historic combinations raised the judaisers to a throne, and all the narrowness of their priesthood was re-enacted as christianity. the column of brass in whose hollow centre the fine brain of swedenborg was imprisoned is a fit similitude of the christian formula. the whole moral attitude of christianity towards nature is represented in his first vision. the beginning of his spiritual career is announced by the evaporation of his animal nature in the form of vermin. the christian hell is present, and these animal parts are burnt up. among those burnt-up powers of swedenborg, one of the serpents must have been his intellect. 'from that day forth i gave up all worldly learning.' here we have the ideal christian caught up to his paradise even while his outward shape is visible. but what if we were all to become like that? suppose all the animal powers and desires were to evaporate out of mankind and to be burnt up! were that to occur to-day the effect on the morrow would be but faintly told in that which would be caused by sudden evaporations of steam from all the engines of the world. we may imagine a band of philanthropists, sorely disturbed by the number of accidents incidental to steam-locomotion, who should conspire to go at daybreak to all the engine-houses and stations in england, and, just as the engines were about to start for their work, should quench their fires, let off their steam, and break their works. that would be but a brief paralysis of the work of one country; but what would be the result if the animal nature of man and its desires, the works and trades that minister to the 'pomps and vanities,' all worldly aims and joys, should be burnt up in fires of fanaticism! yet to that fatal aim christianity gave itself,--so contrary to that great heart in which was mirrored the beautiful world, its lilies and little children, and where love shed its beams on the just and the unjust! the organising principle of christianity was that which crucified jesus and took his tomb for corner-stone of a system modelled after what he hated. its central purpose was to effect a divorce between the moral and the animal nature of man. one is called flesh and the other spirit; one was the child of god, the other the child of the devil. it rent asunder that which was really one; its whole history, so long as it was in earnest, was the fanatical effort to keep asunder by violence those two halves ever seeking harmony; its history since its falsity was exposed has been the hypocrisy of professing in word what is impossible in deed. beside the christian vision of swedenborg, in which the judaic priest's curse on swinish greek learning found apotheosis, let us set the vision of a jewish seer in whom the humanity that spared nineveh found expression. the seer is philo,--name rightly belonging to that pure mind in which the starry ideals of his semitic race embraced the sensuous beauty which alone could give them life. philo (præm. et poenis, sec. - ) describes as the first joy of the redeemed earth the termination of the war between man and animal. that war will end, he says, 'when the wild beasts in the soul have been tamed. then the most ferocious animals will submit to man; scorpions will lose their stings, and serpents their poison. and, in consequence of the suppression of that older war between man and beast, the war between man and man shall also end.' here we emerge from swedenborg's brass column, we pass beyond peter's sword called 'slay-and-eat,' we leave behind the talmud's curse on swine and learning: we rise to the clear vision of hebrew prophecy which beheld lion and lamb lying down together, a child leading the wild forces subdued by culture. 'why not god kill debbil?' asked man friday. it is a question which not even psychology has answered, why no theology has yet suggested the death of the devil in the past, or prophesied more than chains for him in the future. no doubt the need of a 'hangman's whip to haud the wretch in order' may partly account for it; but with this may have combined a cause of which it is pleasanter to think--devils being animal passions in excess, even the ascetic recoils from their destruction, with an instinct like that which restrains rats from gnawing holes through the ship's bottom. in goethe's 'faust' we read, doch das antike find' ich zu lebendig. it is a criticism on the nudity of the greek forms that appear in the classical walpurgis night. but the authority is not good: it is mephistopheles who is disgusted with sight of the human form, and he says they ought in modern fashion to be plastered over. his sentiments have prevailed at the vatican, where the antique statues and the great pictures of michael angelo bear witness to the prurient prudery of the papal mind. 'devils are our sins in perspective,' says george herbert. herodotus (ii. ) says, 'the egyptians consider the pig to be an impure beast, and therefore if a man, in passing by a pig, should touch him only with his garments, he forthwith goes to the river and plunges in; and, in the next place, swineherds, although native egyptians, are the only men who are not allowed to enter any of their temples.' the egyptians, he says, do not sacrifice the goat; 'and, indeed, their painters and sculptors represent pan with the face and legs of a goat, as the grecians do; not that they imagine this to be his real form, for they think him like other gods; but why they represent him in this way i had rather not mention.' we need not feel the same prudery. the egyptians rightly regarded the symbol of sexual desire, on whose healthy exercise the perpetuation of life depended, as a very different kind of animalism from that symbolised in the pig's love of refuse and garbage. their association of the goat with pan--the lusty vigour of nature--was the natural preface to the arts of greece in which the wild forces were taught their first lesson--temperance. pan becomes musical. the vigour and vitality of human nature find in the full but not excessive proportions of apollo, aphrodite, artemis, and others of the bright array, the harmony which pan with his pipe preludes. the greek statue is soul embodied and body ensouled. two men had i the happiness to know in my youth, into whose faces i looked up and saw the throne of genius illumined by purity. one of them, ralph waldo emerson, wrote, 'if beauty, softness, and faith in female forms have their own influence, vices even, in a slight degree, are thought to improve the expression.' the other, arthur hugh clough, wrote, 'what we all love is good touched up with evil.' here are two brave flowers, of which one grew out of the thorny stem of puritanism, the other from the monastic root of oxford. the 'vices' which could improve the expression, even for the pure eyes of emerson, are those which represent the struggle of human nature to exist in truth, albeit in misdirection and reaction, amid pious hypocrisies. the oxonian scholar had seen enough of the conventionalised characterless 'good' to long for some sign of life and freedom, even though it must come as a touch of 'evil.' to the artist, nature is never seen in petrifaction; it is really as well as literally a becoming. the evil he sees is 'good in the making:' what others call vices are voices in the wilderness preparing the way of the highest. 'god and the devil make the whole of religion,' said nicoli--speaking, perhaps, better than he knew. the culture of the world has shown that the sometime opposed realms of human interest, so personified, are equally essential. it is through this experience that the devil has gained such ample vindication from the poets--as in rapisardi's 'lucifero,' a veritable 'bringer of light,' and cranch's 'satan.' from the latter work ('satan: a libretto.' boston: roberts brothers, ), which should be more widely known, i quote some lines. satan says-- i symbolise the wild and deep and unregenerated wastes of life, dark with transmitted tendencies of race and blind mischance; all crude mistakes of will and tendency unbalanced by due weight of favouring circumstance; all passion blown by wandering winds; all surplusage of force piled up for use, but slipping from its base of law and order. this is the very realm in which the poet and the artist find their pure-veined quarries, whence arise the forms transfigured in their vision. to evoke helena, faust, as we have seen, must repair to the mothers. but who may these be? they shine from goethe's page in such opalescent tints one cannot transfix their sense. they seemed to me just now the primal conditions, by fulfilling which anything might be attained, without which, nothing. but now (yet perhaps the difference is not great) i see the mothers to be the ancient healthy instincts and ideals of our race. these took shape in forms of art, whose evolution had been man's harmony with himself. christianity, borrowing thunder of one god, hammer of another, shattered them--shattered our mothers! and now learned travellers go about in many lands saying, 'saw ye my beloved?' amid cities ruined and buried we are trying to recover them, fitting limb to limb--so carefully! as if half-conscious that we are piecing together again the fragments of our own humanity. 'the devil: does he exist, and what does he do?' such is the title of a recent work by father delaporte, professor of dogma in the faculty of bordeaux. he gives specific directions for exorcism of devils by means of holy water, the sign of the cross, and other charms. 'these measures,' says one of his american critics, 'may answer very well against the french devil; but our american beelzebub is a potentate that goeth not forth on any such hints.' father delaporte would hardly contend that the use of cross and holy water for a thousand years has been effectual in dislodging the european beelzebub. on the whole, i am inclined to prefer the method of the africans of the guinea coast. they believe in a particularly hideous devil, but say that the only defence they require against him is a mirror. if any one will keep a mirror beside him, the devil must see himself in it, and he at once rushes away in terror of his own ugliness. no monster ever conjured up by imagination is more hideous than a rational being transformed to a beast. just that is every human being who has brought his nobler powers down to be slaves of his animal nature. no eye could look upon that fearful sight unmoved. all man needs is a true mirror in which his own animalism may see itself. we cannot borrow for this purpose the arts of greece, nor the fairy ideals of germany, nor the emasculated saints of christendom. these were but fragments of the man who has been created by combination of their powers, and their several ideals are broken bits that cannot reflect the whole being of man in its proportions or disproportions. the higher nature of man, polished by culture of all his faculties, can alone be the faithful mirror before his lower. the clearness of this mirror in the individual heart depends mainly on the civilisation and knowledge surrounding it. the discovered law turns once plausible theories to falsehoods; a noble literature transmutes once popular books to trash. when art interprets the realities of nature, when it shows how much beauty and purity our human nature is capable of, it holds a mirror before all deformities. at a theatre in the city of london, i witnessed the performance of an actor who, in the course of his part, struck a child. he was complimented by a hurricane of hisses from the crowded gallery. had those 'gods' up there never struck children? possibly. yet here each had a mirror before him and recoiled from his worst self. a clergyman relates that, while looking at pictures in the bethnal green museum, he overheard a poor woman, who had been gazing on a madonna, say, 'if i had such a child as that i believe i could be a good woman.' who can say what even that one glance at her life in the ideal reflector may be worth to that wanderer amid the miseries and temptations of london! it is not easy for those who have seen what is high and holy to give their hearts to what is base and unholy. it is as natural for human nature to love virtue as to love any other beauty. external beauty is visible to all, and all desire it: the interior beauty is not visible to superficial glances, but the admiration shown even for its counterfeits shows how natural it is to admire virtue. but in order that the charm of this moral beauty may be felt by human nature it must be related to that nature--real. it must not be some childish ideal which answers to no need of the man of to-day; not something imported from a time and place where it had meaning and force to others where it has none. when dogmas surviving from the primitive world are brought to behold themselves in the mirror held up by science, they cry out, 'that is not my face! you are caricaturing my beliefs!' this recoil of superstition from its own ugliness is the victory of religion. what priests bewail as disbelief is faith fleeing from its deformities. ignorant devotion proves its need of science by its terrors of the same, which are like those of the horse at first sight of its best friend, bearer of its burthens--the locomotive. religion, like every other high feature of human nature, has its animal counterpart. the animalised religion is superstition. it has various expressions,--the abjectness of one form, the ferocity of another, the cunning of a third. it is unconscious of anything higher than animalism. its god is a very great animal preying on other animals, which are laid on his altars; or pleased when smaller animals give up their part of the earthly feast by starving their passions and senses. under the growth of civilisation and intelligence that pious asceticism is revealed in its true form,--intensified animalism. the asceticism of one age becomes the self-indulgence of another. the two-footed animal having discovered that his god does not eat the meat left for him, eats it himself. learning that he gets as much from his god by a wafer and a prayer, he offers these and retains the gifts, treasures, and pleasures so commuted,--these, however, being withdrawn from the direction of the higher nature by the fact of being obtained through the conditions of the lower, and dependent on their persistence. in process of time the forms and formulas of religion, detached from all reality--such as no conceivable monarch could desire--not only become senseless, but depend upon their senselessness for continuance. they refuse to come at all within the domain of reason or common-sense, and trust to mental torpor of the masses, force of habit in the aggregate, self-interest in the wealthy and powerful, bribes for thinkers and scholars. animalism disguised as a religion must render the human religion, able to raise passions into divine attributes of a perfect manhood, impossible so long as it continues. that a human religion can ever come by any process of evolution from a superstition which can only exist by ministry to the baser motives is a delusion. the only hope of society is that its independent minds may gain culture, and so surround this unextinct monster with mirrors that it may perish through shame at its manifold deformities. these are symbolised in the many-headed phantasm which is the subject of this work. demon, dragon, and devil have long paralysed the finest powers of man, peopling nature with horrors, the heart with fears, and causing the religious sentiment itself to make actual in history the worst excesses it professed to combat in its imaginary adversaries. my largest hope is that from the dragon-guarded well where truth is too much concealed she may emerge far enough to bring her mirror before these phantoms of fear, and with far-darting beams send them back to their caves in chaos and ancient night. the battlements of the cloisters of magdalen college, oxford, are crowned with an array of figures representing virtues and vices, with carved allegories of teaching and learning. under the governor's window are the pelican feeding its young from its breast, and the lion, denoting the tenderness and the strength of a master of youth. there follow the professions--the lawyer embracing his client, the physician with his bottle, the divine as moses with his tables of the law. next are the slayers of goliath and other mythical enemies. we come to more real, albeit monstrous, enemies; to gluttony in ecclesiastical dress, with tongue lolling out; and low-browed luxury without any vesture, with a wide-mouthed animal-eared face on its belly, the same tongue lolling out--as in our figures of typhon and kali. drunkenness has three animal heads--one of a degraded humanity, another a sheep, the third a goose. cruelty is a werewolf; a frog-faced lamia represents its mixture with lust; and other vices are represented by other monsters, chiefly dragons with griffin forms, until the last is reached--the devil, who is just opposite the governor's symbols across the quadrangle. so was represented, some centuries ago, the conflict of ormuzd and ahriman, for the young soldiers who enlisted at oxford for that struggle. a certain amount of fancy has entered into the execution of the figures; but, if this be carefully detached, the history which i have attempted to tell in these volumes may be generally traced in the magdalen statues. each represents some phase in the advance of the world, when, under new emergencies, earlier symbols were modified, recombined, and presently replaced by new shapes. it was found inadequate to keep the scholar throwing stones at the mummy of goliath when by his side was living gluttony in religious garb. the scriptural symbols are gradually mixed with those of greek and german mythology, and by such contact with nature are able to generate forms, whose lolling tongues, wide mouths, and other expressions, represent with some realism the physiognomies of brutality let loose through admission to human shape and power. it may be that, when they were set up, the young oxonian passed shuddering these terrible forms, dreaded these werewolves and succubæ, and dreamed of going forth to impale dragons. but now the sculptures excite only laughter or curiosity, when they are not passed by without notice. yet the old conflict between light and darkness has not ceased. the ancient forms of it pass away; they become grotesque. such was necessarily the case where the excessive mythological and fanciful elements introduced at one period fall upon another period when they hide the meaning. their obscurity, even for antiquarians, marks how far away from those cold battlefields the struggle they symbolised has passed. but it ceases not. some scholars who listen to the sweet vespers of magdalen may think the conflict over; if so, even poor brother moody may enter the true kingdom before them; for, when preaching in baltimore last september, he said, 'men are possessed of devils just as much now as they ever were. the devil of rum is as great as any that ever lived. why cannot this one and all others be cast out? because there is sin in the christian camp.' the picture which closes this volume has been made for me by the artist hennessey, to record an incident which occurred at the door of nôtre dame in paris last summer. i had been examining an ugly devil there treading down human forms into hell; but a dear friend looked higher, and saw a bird brooding over its young on a nest supported by that same horrible head. so, above the symbols of wrath in nature, love still interweaves heavenly tints with the mystery of life; beside the horns of pain prepares melodies. even so, also, over the animalism which deforms man, rises the animal perfection which shames that; here ascending above the reign of violence by a feather's force, and securing to that little creature a tenderness that could best express the heart of a christ, when it would gather humanity under his wings. this same little scene at the cathedral door came before me again as i saw the oxonian youth, with their morning-faces, passing so heedlessly those ancient sculptures at magdalen. over every happy heart the same old love was brooding, in each nestling faculties were trying to gain their wings. to what will they aspire, those students moving so light-hearted amid the dead dragons and satans of an extinct world? do they think there are no more dragons to be slain? know they that saying, 'he descended into hell;' and that, from orpheus and herakles to mohammed and swedenborg, this is the burthen felt by those who would be saviours of men? it is not only loving birds that build their nests and rear their young over the horns of forgotten fears, but, alas! the harpies too! these, which dante saw nestling in still plants--once men who had wronged themselves--rear successors above the aspirations that have ended in 'nothing but leaves.' the sculptures of magdalen are incomplete. there is a vacant side to the quadrangle, which, it is to be feared, awaits the truer teaching that would fill it up with the real dragons which no youth could heedlessly pass. who can carve there the wrongs that await their powers of redress? who can set before them, with all its baseness, the true emblem of pious fraud? when will they see in any stone mirror the real shape of a double-tongued culture--one fork intoning litanies, another whispering contempt of them? the werewolves of scholarly selfishness, the lamias of christian casuistry, the subtle intelligence that is fed by sages and heroes, but turns them to dust, nay, to venom, because it dares not be human, still crawls--these are yet to be revealed in all their horrors. then will the old cry, sursum corda, sound over the ancient symbols whereon scholars waste their strength, by which they are conquered; and wings of courage shall bear them with their arrows of light to rescue from superstition the holy places of humanity. notes to volume i [ ] pausan. v. , . [ ] solin. polyhistor, i. [ ] pliny, xxix. , , init. [ ] ezekiel xiv. . [ ] as in the bembine tablet in the bodleian library. [ ] see sale's koran, p. . [ ] pindar, fragm., . [ ] tylor's 'early hist. of mankind,' p. ; 'prim. cult.,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] the gascons of labourd call the devil 'seigneur voland,' and some revere him as a patron. [ ] 'myth. of the aryan nations,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] 'christian iconography,' bohn, p. . [ ] 'videbant faciem egredientis moysis esse cornutam.'--vulg. exod. xxxiv. . [ ] 'myths and marvels of astronomy.' by r. a. proctor. chatto & windus, . [ ] 'scenes and legends,' &c., p. . [ ] 'any orientalist will appreciate the wonderful hotchpot of hindu and arabic language and religion in the following details, noted down among rude tribes of the malay peninsula. we hear of jin bumi, the earth-god (arabic jin = demon, sanskrit bhümi = earth); incense is burnt to jewajewa (sanskrit dewa = god), who intercedes with pirman, the supreme invisible deity above the sky (brahma?); the moslem allah táala, with his wife nabi mahamad (prophet mohammed), appear in the hinduised characters of creator and destroyer of all things; and while the spirits worshipped in stones are called by the hindu term of 'dewa' or deity, moslem conversion has so far influenced the mind of the stone-worshipper that he will give to his sacred boulder the name of prophet mohammed.'--tylor's 'primitive culture,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] yaçna, . [ ] 'the devil,' &c., from the french of the rev. a. réville, p. . [ ] tylor's 'primitive culture,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] 'the gnostics,' &c., by c. w. king, m.a., p. . [ ] those who wish to examine this matter further will do well to refer to badger, 'nestorians and their rituals,' in which the whole of the 'eulogy' is translated; and to layard, 'ninevah and babylon,' in which there is a translation of the same by hormuzd rassam, the king of abyssinia's late prisoner. [ ] the significance of the gargoyles on the churches built on the foundations of pagan temples may be especially observed at york, where the forms of various animals well known to indo-germanic mythology appear. they are probably copies of earlier designs, surviving from the days when the plan of gregory for the conversion of temples prevailed. 'the temples of the idols in that nation,' wrote the pope, a.c. , 'ought not to be destroyed; but let the idols that are in them be destroyed; let holy water be made and sprinkled in the said temples, let altars be erected and relics placed. for if those temples are well built, it is requisite that they be converted from the worship of devils to the service of the true god.'--bede, eccl. hist. ch. . [ ] 'the land of charity,' by rev. samuel mateer, p. . [ ] london 'times' calcutta correspondence. [ ] the persian poet sádi uses the phrase, 'the whale swallowed jonah,' as a familiar expression for sunset; which is in curious coincidence with a mimac (nova scotian) myth that the holy hero glooscap was carried to the happy sunset land in a whale. the story of jonah has indeed had interesting variants, one of them being that legend of oannes, the fish-god, emerging from the red sea to teach babylonians the arts (a saga of dagon); but the phrase in the book of jonah--'the belly of hell'--had a prosaic significance for the christian mind, and, in connection with speculations concerning behemoth and leviathan, gave us the mediæval mouth of hell. [ ] tablet k in the british museum. see 'records of the past,' i. . [ ] london 'times,' july , . [ ] 'songs of the russian people,' p. . [ ] 'primitive culture.' [ ] cæsarius d'heisterbach, miracul. iii. [ ] lev. iii. . [ ] du perron, 'vie de zoroastre.' [ ] the principle similia similibus curantur is a very ancient one; but though it may have originated in a euphemistic or propitiatory aim, the homoeopathist may claim that it could hardly have lived unless it had been found to have some practical advantages. [ ] sonnerat's 'travels,' ii. . [ ] deutsch, 'literary remains,' p. . [ ] isa. lvii. ; ezek. xvi. ; jer. xix. . [ ] the 'jewish world.' [ ] 'observations on popular antiquities,' &c., by john brand. with the additions of sir henry ellis. an entirely new and revised edition. chatto & windus, . see especially the chapter on 'summer solstice,' p. . [ ] 'pyra, a bonefire, wherein men's bodyes were burned.'--cooper's thesaurus. probably from fr. bon; wedgewood gives dan. baun, beacon. [ ] see chapter i. compare numbers xxxi. . [ ] numbers xix. . [ ] ibid. xix. , seq. [ ] 'folklore of china,' p. . [ ] in russia the pigeon, from being anciently consecrated to the thunder god, has become emblem of the holy ghost, or celestial fire, and as such the foe of earthly fire. pigeons are trusted as insurers against fire, and the flight of one through a house is regarded as a kindly warning of conflagration. [ ] tablet k in brit. mus. tr. by h. f. talbot in 'records of the past.' [ ] the western mail, march , , contains a remarkable letter by the arch-druid, in which he maintains that 'jesus' is a derivation from hea or hu, light, and the christian system a corruption of bardism. [ ] 'l'enfer,' p. . [ ] dennys' 'folklore of china,' p. . [ ] procopius, 'de bello gothico,' iv. . [ ] 'memorials of the rev. r. s. hawkes'. [ ] 'la magie chez les chaldéens,' iii. [ ] lönnrot, 'abhandlung über die magische medicin der finnen.' [ ] 'scenes and legends of the north of scotland.' nimmo, . [ ] 'rig-veda,' ii. . tr. by professor evans of michigan. [ ] 'rig-veda,' i. . [ ] 'jour. ceylon r. a. soc.,' - . [ ] welcker, 'griechische götterlehre,' vol. i. p. . [ ] moffat, p. . [ ] livingstone, p. . [ ] pöppig, 'reise in chile,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] eyre, vol. ii. p. . [ ] tylor, 'early hist.,' p. . [ ] so confirming the conjecture of wachsmuth, in 'das alte griechenland im neuen,' p. . elias might also easily be associated with the name Æolus. [ ] 'rig-veda,' x. (muir). [ ] john iii. . [ ] 'the wheel of the law,' by henry alabaster, trübner & co. [ ] 'rig-veda,' v. (wilson). [ ] 'major's tr.,' ii. . [ ] wierus' 'pseudomonarchia dæmon.' [ ] 'songs of the russian people,' by w. r. s. ralston, m.a. [ ] isa. xxii. . it is remarkable that (according to callimachus) ceres bore a key on her shoulder. she kept the granary of the earth. [ ] rev. i. .; matt. xvi. . [ ] 'journal n. c. b. r. a. s.,' . [ ] 'folklore of china,' p. . the drum held by the imp in fig. shows his relation to the thunder-god. in japan the thunder-god is represented as having five drums strung together. the wind-god has a large bag of compressed air between his shoulders; and he has steel claws, representing the keen and piercing wind. the tartars in siberia believe that a potent demon may be evoked by beating a drum; their sorcerers provide a tame bear, who starts upon the scene, and from whom they pretend to get answers to questions. in nova scotian superstition we find demons charmed by drums into quietude. in india the temple-drum preserved such solemn associations even for the new theistic sect, the brahmo-somaj, that it is said to be still beaten as accompaniment to the organ sent to their chief church by their english friends. [ ] although the koran and other authorities, as already stated, have associated the jinn with etherial fire, arabic folklore is nearer the meaning of the word in assigning the name to all demons. the learned arabic lexicographer of beirut, p. bustani, says 'the jinn is the opposite of mankind, or it is whatever is veiled from the sense, whether angel or devil.' [ ] 'cuneiform ins.,' iv. . [ ] ib. ii. . [ ] job xli. [ ] 'records of the past,' i. [ ] lenormant, 'la magie.' [ ] 'records of the past,' iii. . [ ] the god of the euphrates. [ ] the assyrian has 'of the high places.' [ ] 'records of the past,' iii. , . [ ] 'henry iv.,' part st, act . 'heart of mid-lothian,' xxv. an interesting paper on this subject by mr. alexander wilder appeared in the evolution, new york, december , . [ ] de plancy. [ ] an individual by this means saw his wife among the witches, so detecting her unhallowed nature, which gave rise to a saying there that husbands must not be star-gazing on st. gerard's eve. [ ] london 'times,' july , . [ ] this protean type of both demon and devil must accompany us so continually through this volume that but little need be said of it in this chapter. [ ] canticles ii. . [ ] de gubernatis, ii. viii. [ ] 'our life in japan' (jephson and elmhirst, th regiment), chapman & hall, . [ ] london 'times,' june , . [ ] rep. . [ ] literally, goat-song. more probably it has an astrological sense. [ ] e.g., the demon huorco in the 'pentamerone.' [ ] see de gubernatis' 'zoological mythology,' which contains further curious details on this subject. [ ] 'myths and myth-makers.' boston: osgood & co. [ ] 'zoological mythology,' p. . [ ] koran, xviii. [ ] wagner. behold him stop--upon his belly crawl.... the clever scholar of the students, he! [ ] 'the adventures of tom sawyer.' london: chatto & windus. [ ] 'spirit of the beasts of france,' ch. i. [ ] 'rigv.' i. , , , ; 'vendidad,' xix. . quoted by de gubernatis ('zoolog. mythology,' ii. ), to whose invaluable work i am largely indebted in this chapter. [ ] 'zoolog. myth.,' ii. . trübner & co. [ ] 'zoolog. myth.,' ii. seq. [ ] afanasief, v. . [ ] ibid., v. . [ ] ii. (de gubernatis, ii. ). [ ] rather the devil of lust than of cruelty, according to du cange: "occidunt ursum, occiditur diabolus, id est, temptator nostræ carnis." [ ] de plancy (dict. inf.), who also relates an amusing legend of the bear who came to a german choir, as seen by a sleepy chorister as he awoke; the naïve narrator of which adds, that this was the devil sent to hold the singers to their duty! the lives of the saints abound with legends of pious bears, such as that commemorated along with st. sergius in troitska lavra, near moscow; and that which st. gallus was ungracious enough to banish from switzerland after it had brought him firewood in proof of its conversion. [ ] max müller, 'science of language,' i. . [ ] the term is now used very vaguely. mr. talboys wheeler, speaking of the 'scythic nagas' (hist. of india, i. ), says: 'in process of time these nagas became identified with serpents, and the result has been a strange confusion between serpents and human beings.' in the 'padma purana' we read of 'serpent-like men.' (see my 'sacred anthology,' p. .) [ ] 'mahawanso' (turnour), pp. , . [ ] ser. xxxiii. hardly consistent with de civ. dei, xvi. . [ ] 'chips,' ii. [ ] 'sancti custos soractis apollo.'--Æn. xi. . [ ] 'treatise of spirits,' by john beaumont, gent., london, . [ ] london 'times,' june , . [ ] wuttke, 'volksaberglaube,' . pliny (iv. ) says: 'albion insula sic dicta ab albis rupibus quas mare alluit.' this etymon of albion from the white cliffs is very questionable; but, since alb and elf are generally related, it might have suggested the notion about english demons. heine identifies the 'white island,' or pluto's realm of continental folklore, as england. [ ] richardson's 'borderer's fable-book,' vi. . [ ] martin, appendix to report on 'ossian,' p. . [ ] 'scenes and legends,' p. . [ ] dr. james browne's 'history of the highlands,' p. . [ ] 'north american review,' january . [ ] dennys, p. et seq. [ ] ezekiel xxxix. [ ] 'rig-veda,' iv. , (wilson). [ ] ibid., i. , . [ ] 'rig-veda,' vi. . [ ] 'the nineteenth century,' november . article: 'sun-spots and famines,' by norman lockyer and w. w. hunter. [ ] 'an inquiry into the nature and place of hell,' by tobias swinden, m.a., late rector of cuxton-in-kent. . [ ] carlyle, 'past and present,' i. . [ ] 'discoveries in egypt,' &c. (bentley.) . [ ] 'legends of old testament characters,' i. p. . [ ] oedip., . ii. ii. see 'mankind: their origin and destiny,' p. . [ ] compare kali, fig. . [ ] soc. of heb. literature's publications. d series. 'legends from the midrash,' by thomas chenery (trübner & co.). the same legend is referred to in the story of the astrologer in washington irving's 'alhambra.' [ ] faust, ii. act (hayward's translation). [ ] 'emerson's poems. monadnoc.' [ ] 'modern painters,' part v. . [ ] bel's mountain, 'house of the beloved,' is called 'high place' in assyrian, and would be included in these curses ('records of the past,' iii. ). [ ] jer. xiii. . [ ] 'our life in japan.' by jephson and elmhirst. [ ] another derivation of elf (alf) is to connect it with sanskrit alpa = little; so that the elves are the little folk. professor buslaef of moscow suggests connection with the greek alphito, a spectre. see pp. n. and . [ ] brinton, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] 'tales and legends of the tyrol.' (chapman and hall, .) [ ] od. xii. ; , &c. [ ] london daily telegraph correspondence. [ ] john sterling. [ ] 'rig-veda,' ii. , . wilson. . [ ] 'du monstre qui m'avait tant ennuyé, il n'était plus question; il était pour jamais réduit au silence. il n'avait plus forme de géant. déjà en partie couvert de verdure, de mousse et de clématites qui avaient grimpé sur la partie où j'avais cessé de passer, il n'était plus laid; bientôt on ne le verrait plus du tout. je me sentais si heureux que je voulus lui pardonner, et, me tournant vers lui:--a present, lui dis-je, tu dormiras tous tes jours et tous tes nuits sans que je te dérange. le mauvais esprit qui était en toi est vaincu, je lui defends de revenir. je t'en ai délivré en te forçant à devenir utile à quelque chose; que la foudre t'épargne et que la neige te soit légère! il me sembla passer, le long de l'escarpement, comme un grand soupir de résignation qui se perdit dans les hauteurs. ce fut la dernière fois que je l'entendais, et je ne l'ai jamais revu autre qu'il n'est maintenant.' [ ] von spix and von martin's 'travels in brazil,' p. . [ ] 'anatomy of melancholy.' fifteenth edition, p. . [ ] 'les dieux en exile.' heinrich heine. revue des deux mondes, april, . [ ] 'book of songs.' translated by charles e. leland. new york: henry holt & co. . [ ] dennys. [ ] bleek, 'hottentot fables,' p. . [ ] baring-gould, 'curious myths,' &c. [ ] ibid., ii. . [ ] 'shaski,' vi. . [ ] hugh miller, 'scenes and legends,' p. . [ ] 'the mirror,' april , . [ ] 'the origin of civilisation,' &c. by sir john lubbock. [ ] hildebrand in grimm's 'wörterbuch.' [ ] wisdom of solomon, xvii. what this impressive chapter says of the delusions of the guilty are equally true of those of ignorance. 'they sleeping the same sleep that night ... were partly vexed with monstrous apparitions, and partly fainted, their heart failing them ... whosoever there fell down was straitly kept, shut up in a prison without iron bars.... whether it were a whistling wind, or a melodious noise of birds among the spreading branches, or a pleasing fall of water running violently, or a terrible sound of stones cast down, or a running that could not be seen of skipping beasts, or a roaring voice of most savage wild beasts, or a rebounding echo from the hollow mountains: these things made them to swoon for fear. the whole world shined with clear light ... over them only was spread a heavy night, an image of that darkness which should afterward receive them: but yet were they to themselves more grievous than that darkness.' [ ] bayard taylor's 'faust.' walpurgis-night. [ ] i. . [ ] north american review. march . [ ] in his very valuable work, 'northmen in cumberland and westmoreland.' longmans. . [ ] 'journal of philology,' vi. no. ii. on the word glamour and the legend of glam, by professor cowell. [ ] chron. xvi. ; kings xx.; mark v. ; james v. ; &c., &c. the catholic church follows the prescription by st. james of prayer and holy anointing for the sick only after medical aid--of which asa died when he preferred it to the lord--has failed; i.e. extreme unction. castelar remarks that the conclave which elected pius ix. sat in the quirinal rather than the vatican, 'because, while it hoped for the inspirations of the holy spirit in every place, it feared that in the palace par excellence divine inspirations would not sufficiently counteract the effluvias of the fever.' the legal prosecutions of the 'peculiar people' for obeying the new testament command in case of sickness supply a notable example of the equal hypocrisy of the protestant age. england has distributed the bible as a divine revelation in different languages; and in london it punishes a sect for obedience to one of its plainest directions. [ ] london 'times,' june , . [ ] 'mankind: their origin and destiny' (longmans, ), p. . see also voltaire's dictionary for an account of the sacred dances in the catholic churches of spain. [ ] deut. xxviii. . [ ] sam. v. . [ ] sam. xvi. . in chap. xviii. , this evil spirit is said to have proceeded from elohim, a difference indicating a further step in that evolution of jehovah into a moral ruler which is fully traced in our chapter on 'elohim and jehovah.' [ ] boundesch, ii. pp. , . for an exhaustive treatment of the astrological theories and pictures of the planispheres, see 'mankind: their origin and destiny' (longmans, ). [ ] 'catastrophe magnatum: or the fall of monarchie. a caveat to magistrates, deduced from the eclipse of the sunne, march , . with a probable conjecture of the determination of the effects.' by nich. culpeper, gent., stud. in astrol. and phys. dan. ii. , : he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdome to the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding: he revealeth the deep and secret things, he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with him. london: printed for t. vere and nath. brooke, in the old baily, and at the angel in cornhil, .' [ ] see the dictionary of böhtlingk and roth. [ ] heb. ii. . [ ] cor. v. ; xi. . [ ] cor. xii. . [ ] 'records of the past,' iii. p. . tr. by mr. fox talbot. [ ] ibid., iii. p. . the refrain recalls the lines of edgar a. poe:-- they are neither man nor woman, they are neither brute nor human, they are ghouls! [ ] the pahlavi text has been prepared by destur jamaspji asa, and translated by haug and west. trübner, . [ ] cf. fig. . [ ] larousse's 'dict. universel.' [ ] 'records,' &c., iii. p. . marduk is the chaldæan hercules. [ ] micah vii. . [ ] see the excellent article in the journal of the ceylon branch of the r.a.s., by dundris de silva gooneratnee modliar ( - ). with regard to this sanctity of the number seven it may be remarked that it has spread through the world with christianity,--seven churches, seven gifts of the spirit, seven sins and virtues. it is easy therefore to mistake orthodox doctrines for survivals. in the london 'times' of june , , there was reported an inquest at corsham, wiltshire, on the body of miriam woodham, who died under the prescriptions of william bigwood, herbalist. it was shown that he used pills made of seven herbs. this was only shown to be a 'pagan survival' when bigwood stated that the herbs were 'governed by the sun.' [ ] see p. . [ ] 'jour. ceylon r. a. soc.,' - . [ ] this demoness is not to be connected with the italian mania, probably of etruscan origin, with which nurses frightened children. this mania, from an old word manus signifying 'good,' was, from the relation of her name to manes, supposed to be mother of the lares, whose revisitations of the earth were generally of ill omen. according to an oracle which said heads should be offered for the sake of heads, children were sacrificed to this household fiend up to the time of junius brutus, who substituted poppy-heads. [ ] phædrus, i. . cf. ger. selig and silly. [ ] 'lect. on language,' i. . [ ] ralston's 'songs of the russian people,' p. . [ ] 'sagen der altmark.' von a. kuhn. berlin, . [ ] wake's 'evolution of morality,' i. . [ ] 'the aborigines of australia' ( ), p. . [ ] chron. xxxiii. . [ ] published by mozley and smith, . [ ] max müller. 'lectures on language,' ii. p. , et seq. [ ] see the beautifully translated funereal hymn of the veda in professor whitney's 'oriental and linguistic studies,' p. , etc. [ ] 'the avesta.' 'oriental and linguistic studies,' p. . [ ] 'records of the past,' i. . [ ] sale's 'koran' (ed. ). see pp. , , . [ ] 'discoveries,' &c., p. . [ ] 'modern painters,' part v. xix. [ ] the history of this tree which i use for a parable is told in the rev. samuel mateer's 'land of charity.' london: john snow & co. . [ ] 'studies in the history of the renaissance.' macmillan & co. . [ ] concerning which mr. wright says: 'it is taken from an oxybaphon which was brought from the continent to england, where it passed into the collection of mr. william hope.... the hyperborean apollo himself appears as a quack-doctor, on his temporary stage, covered by a sort of roof, and approached by wooden steps. on the stage lies apollo's luggage, consisting of a bag, a bow, and his scythian cap. chiron (chirÔn) is represented as labouring under the effects of age and blindness, and supporting himself by the aid of a crooked staff, as he repairs to the delphian quack-doctor for relief. the figure of the centaur is made to ascend by the aid of a companion, both being furnished with the masks and other attributes of the comic performers. above are the mountains, and on them the nymphs of parnassus (nymphai), who, like all the other actors in the scene, are disguised with masks, and those of a very gross character.... even a pun is employed to heighten the drollery of the scene, for instead of pythias, the pythian, placed over the head of the burlesque apollo, it seems evident that the artist had written peithias, the consoler.'--'history of caricature,' p. . but who is the leaf-crowned figure, without mask, on the right hand? was it some early offenbach, who found such representation of the gods welcome at athens where the attempt to produce our modern offenbach's belle helène recently caused a theatrical riot? [ ] wuttke. 'volksaberglaube,' . [ ] schleicher, 'litauische märchen,' - . mr. ralston's translation abridged. [ ] of this latter kind of hungry werewolf a specimen still occasionally revisits the glimpses of the moonshine which, for too many minds, still replaces daylight. so recently as january , , one kate bedwell, a 'pedlar, was sentenced in the marylebone police court, london, to three months' hard labour for obtaining various sums of money, amounting to s. d., by terrorism, from eliza rolf, a cook. the pedlar came to the plaintiff's place of work and asked her if she would like to have her fortune told. eliza replied, 'no, i know it; it is hard work or starving.' the fortune-teller asked her next time if she would have her planet ruled; the other still said no; but her nerves yielded when the 'drud' told her 'she lived under three stars, one good the others bad, and that she could disfigure her or turn her into something else.' 'thank god, she did not!' exclaimed the poor woman in court. however, she seemed to have trusted rather in her money than in any other providence for her immunity from an unhappy transformation. but even into this rare depth of ignorance enough light had penetrated to enable eliza to cope with her werewolf in the civilised way of haling her before a magistrate. when fenris gets three months with hard labour, he no doubt realises that he has exceeded his mental habitat, and that the invisible cords have bound him at last. [ ] elf has, indeed, been referred by some to the sanskrit alpa=little; but the balance of authority is in favour of the derivation given in a former chapter. [ ] mannhardt, 'götter,' . [ ] freia-holda, the teutonic goddess of love. 'cornhill magazine,' may, . [ ] 'records of the past,' vi. . [ ] see cooper's 'serpent-myths of ancient egypt,' figs. and . serapis as a human-headed serpent is shown in the same essay (from sharpe), fig. . [ ] 'representative men,' american edition of , p. . [ ] 'l'oiseau,' par jules michelet. [ ] a deadly southern snake, coloured like the soil on which it lurks, had become the current name for politicians who, while professing loyalty to the union, aided those who sought to overthrow it. [ ] see his learned and valuable treatise, 'the serpent myths of ancient egypt.' hardwicke, . [ ] 'time and faith,' i. . groombridge, . [ ] 'the epic of the worm,' by victor hugo. translated by bayard taylor from 'la légende des siècles.' [ ] bruce relates of the abyssinians that a serpent is commonly kept in their houses to consult for an augury of good or evil. butter and honey are placed before it, of which if it partake, the omen is good; if the serpent refuse to eat, some misfortune is sure to happen. this custom seems to throw a light on the passage--'butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and choose the good' (isa. vii. ).--time and faith, i. . compare the apocryphal tale of bel and the dragon. bel was a healing god of the babylonians, and the dragon whom he slew may have been regarded in later times as his familiar [ ] 'principles of greek etymology,' ii. . english translation. [ ] see pp. and . [ ] 'rig-veda,' v. (wilson). [ ] in a paper on the 'origin of serpent-worship,' read before the anthropological institute in london, december , . [ ] 'science of language,' i. . [ ] 'lectures on language,' i. . [ ] grimm's 'mythology,' p. ff. simrock, p. . [ ] roth, in the 'journal of the german oriental society,' vol. ii. p. ff., has elucidated the whole myth. [ ] i have in my possession a specimen of the horned frog of america, and it is sufficiently curious. [ ] gesta rom., cap. . grimm's myth., ff. simrock, p. . [ ] others derive the name from the ancient borbetomagus. [ ] traditions, p. . [ ] loathely. [ ] pope's 'homer,' book xv. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] Æsch. prom. , &c. [ ] vol. i. p. . [ ] 'north american review,' january . [ ] 'records of the past,' x. . [ ] page . [ ] 'alcestis in england.' printed by the south place society, finsbury, london. . [ ] eating meat was the process of incarnation. [ ] 'results of a tour in dardistan, kashmir,' &c., by chevalier dr. g. w. leitner, lahore, vol. i. part iii. trübner & co. [ ] page . [ ] in the etruscan museum at rome there is a fine representation of this. the old belief was that a dragon could only be attacked successfully inside. [ ] 'the jewish messiah,' &c. by james drummond, b.a. longmans & co. ( ). see in this valuable work chapter xxi. [ ] matt. viii. . [ ] luke xxiii. . [ ] acts i. . notes to volume ii [ ] 'treatise of spirits.' by john beaumont, gent. london, . [ ] luke x. . [ ] rev. xii. [ ] rev. xii. cf. verses , and . [ ] rev. xii. . [ ] 'zendavesta,' yaçna xxx.; max müller, 'science of religion,' p. . [ ] yaçna xliii. [ ] 'die christliche lehre von der sünde.' von julius müller, breslau, , i. . [ ] 'ormazd brought help to me; by the grace of ormazd my troops entirely defeated the rebel army and took sitratachmes, and brought him before me. then i cut off his nose and his ears, and i scourged him. he was kept chained at my door. all the kingdom beheld him. afterwards i crucified him at arbela.' so says the tablet of darius hystaspes. but what could darius have done 'by the grace of ahriman'? [ ] cf. rev. v. and xii. . [ ] 'prayer and work.' by octavius b. frothingham. new york, . [ ] 'lucifero, poema di mario rapisardi.' milano, . [ ] e quanto ebbe e mantiene a l'uom soltanto il deve, a l'uom che d'oqui sue destino o prospero, o maligno, arbitro e solo. 'whatever he (god) had, he owed to man alone, to man who, for good or ill, is sole arbiter of his own fate.'--rapisardi's lucifero. [ ] the following abridgment mainly follows that of james freeman clarke in his 'ten great religions.' [ ] white or snowy mountain. cf. alp, elf, &c. [ ] 'elias shall first come and restore all things.' [ ] that this satirical hymn was admitted into the rig-veda shows that these hymns were collected whilst they were still in the hands of the ancient hindu families as common property, and were not yet the exclusive property of bráhmans as a caste or association. further evidence of the same kind is given by a hymn in which the expression occurs--'do not be as lazy as a bráhman.'--mrs. manning's ancient and mediæval india, i. . in the same work some particulars are given of the persons mentioned in this chapter. the frog-satire is translated by max müller, a. s. l., p. . [ ] 'arichandra, the martyr of truth: a tamil drama translated into english by mutu coomâra swâmy, mudliar, member of her majesty's legislative council of ceylon,' &c. london: smith, elder, & co. . this drama, it must be constantly borne in mind, in nowise represents the vedic legend, told in the aitereya-bráhmana, vii. - ; nor the puranic legend, told in the merkandeya-purána. i have altered the spelling of the names to the sanskrit forms, but otherwise follow sir m. c. s.'s translation. [ ] siva; the 'lord of the world,' and of wealth. cf. pluto, dis, dives. [ ] thes. heb., p. . [ ] heb. handw., p. . [ ] or jahveh. i prefer to use the best known term in a case where the more exact spelling adds no significance. [ ] this, the grandest of all the elohistic names, became the nearest hebrew word for devils--shedim. [ ] even his jealous command against rivals, i.e., 'graven images,' had to be taken along with the story of laban's images (gen. xxxi.), when, though 'god came to laban,' the idolatry was not rebuked. [ ] it is not certain, indeed, whether this brightness may not have been separately personified in the 'eduth' (translated 'testimony' in the english version, exod. xvi. ), before which the pot of manna was laid. the word means 'brightness,' and dr. willis supposes it may be connected with adod, the phoenician sun-god (pentateuch, p. ). [ ] it is important not to confuse satan with the devil, so far as the bible is concerned. satan, as will be seen when we come to the special treatment of him required, is by no means invariably diabolical. in the book of job, for example, he appears in a character far removed from hostility to jehovah or goodness. [ ] name ist schall und rauch, umnebelnd himmelsgluth.--goethe. [ ] 'targum to the prophets,' jonathan ben uzziel. see deutsch's 'literary remains,' p. . [ ] see pp. and . the episode is in mahábhárata, i. . [ ] related to the slav kvas, with which, in russian folklore, the devil tried to circumvent noah and his wife, as related in chap. xxvii. part iv. [ ] in sanskrit adima means 'the first;' in hebrew adam (given almost always with the article) means 'the red,' and it is generally derived from adamah, mould or soil. but professor max müller (science of religion, p. ) says if the name adima (used, by the way, in india for the first man, as adam is in england) is the same as adam, 'we should be driven to admit that adam was borrowed by the jews from the hindus.' but even that mild case of 'driving' is unnecessary, since the word, as sale reminded the world, is used in the persian legend. it is probable that the hebrews imported this word not knowing its meaning, and as it resembled their word for mould, they added the gloss that the first man was made of the dust or mould of the ground. it is not contended that the hebrews got their word directly from the hindu or persian myth. mr. george smith discovered that admi or adami was the name for the first men in chaldean fragments. sir henry rawlinson points out that the ancient babylonians recognised two principle races,--the adamu, or dark, and the sarku, or light, race; probably a distinction, remembered in the phrase of genesis, between the supposed sons of adam and the sons of god. the dark race was the one that fell. mr. herbert spencer (principles of sociology, appendix) offers an ingenious suggestion that the prohibition of a certain sacred fruit may have been the provision of a light race against a dark one, as in peru only the yuca and his relatives were allowed to eat the stimulating cuca. if this be true in the present case, it would still only reflect an earlier tradition that the holy fruit was the rightful possession of the deities who had won in the struggle for it. nor is there wanting a survival from indian tradition in the story of eve. adam said, 'this now is bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh.' in the manu code (ix. ) it is written: 'the bone of woman is united with the bone of man, and her flesh with his flesh.' the indian adam fell in twain, becoming male and female (yama and yami). ewald (hist. of israel, i. ) has put this matter of the relation between hebrew and hindu traditions, as it appears to me, beyond doubt. see also goldziher's heb. mythol., p. ; and professor king's gnostics, pp. , , where the historic conditions under which the importation would naturally have occurred are succinctly set forth. professor king suggests that parsî and pharisee may be the same word. [ ] gen. vi. , , . [ ] vi.-xi. pp. - . see drummond's 'jewish messiah,' p. . [ ] see vol. i. p. . [ ] phil. trans. ab. from - , part iv. p. . [ ] gen. xxi. , . the english version has destroyed the sense by supplying 'him' after 'borne.' cf. also verses , . the rabbins were fully aware of the importance of the statement that it was jehovah who 'opened the womb of sara,' and supplemented it with various traditions. it was related that when isaac was born, the kings of the earth refused to believe such a prodigy concerning even a beauty of ninety years; whereupon the breasts of all their wives were miraculously dried up, and they all had to bring their children to sara to be suckled. [ ] fortieth parascha, fol. , col. . the solar--or more correctly, so far as sara is concerned, lunar--aspects of the legend of abraham, sara, and isaac, however important, do not affect the human nature with which they are associated; nor is the special service to which they are pressed in jewish theology altered by the theory (should it prove true) which derives these personages from aryan mythology. there seems to be some reason for supposing that sara is a semiticised form of saranyú. the two stand in somewhat the same typical position. saranyú, daughter of tvashtar ('the fashioner'), was mother of the first human pair, yama and yami. sara is the first mother of those born in a new (covenanted) creation. each is for a time concealed from mortals; each leaves her husband an illegitimate representative. saranyú gives her lord savarná ('substitute'), who by him brings forth manu,--that is 'man,' but not the original perfect man. sara substitutes hagar ('the fleeting'), and ishmael is born, but not within the covenant. [ ] gen. iii. . zerov. hummor, fol. , col. . parascha bereschith. it is said that, according to prov. xxv. , if thy enemy hunger thou must feed him; and hence dust must be placed for the serpent when its power over man is weakened by circumcision. [ ] parascha bereschith, fol. , col. . eisenmenger, entdeckes judenthum, ii. . [ ] hist. arabûm. [ ] entdeckes judenthum. [ ] this legend may have been in the mind of the writer of the book of revelations when (xii. ) he describes the woman who received wings that she might escape the serpent. lilith's wings bore her to the serpent. [ ] inferno, ix. - . [ ] she was a lybian queen beloved by zeus, whose children were victims of hera's jealousy. she was daughter of belus, and it is a notable coincidence, if no more, that in gen. xxxvi. 'bela' is mentioned as a king of edom, the domain of samaël, who married lilith. [ ] the martial and hunting customs of the german women, as well as their equality with men, may be traced in the vestiges of their decline. hexe (witch) is from hag (forest): the priestesses who carried the broom of thor were called hagdissen. before the seventeenth century the hexe was called drud or trud (red folk, related to the lightning-god). but the famous female hunters and warriors of wodan, the valkyries, were so called also; and the preservation of the epithet (trud) in the noble name gertrude is a connecting link between the german amazons and the political power so long maintained by women in the same country. their office as priestesses probably marks a step downward from their outdoor equality. by this route, as priestesses of diabolised deities, they became witches; but many folk-legends made these witches still great riders, and the devil was said to transform and ride them as dapplegrey mares. the chief charge against the witches, that of carnal commerce with devils, is also significant. like lilith, women became devils' brides whenever they were not content with sitting at home with the distaff and the child. [ ] mr. w. b. scott has painted a beautiful picture of eve gazing up with longing at a sweet babe in the tree, whose serpent coils beneath she does not see. [ ] 'records of the past,' iii. p. . see also i. p. . [ ] 'chaldean genesis,' by george smith, p. . [ ] copied in 'chald. gen.,' p. . as to the connection of this design with the legend of eden, see chap. vii. of this volume. [ ] 'chaldean genesis,' pp. , . [ ] ib., . [ ] 'records of the past,' ix. . [ ] anu was the ruler of the highest heaven. meteors and lightnings are similarly considered in hebrew poetry as the messengers of the almighty. (psalm civ. , 'who maketh his ministers a flaming fire,' quoted in heb. i. .) [ ] im, the god of the sky, sometimes called rimmon (the thunderer). he answers to the jupiter tonans of the latins. [ ] the abyss or ocean where the god hea dwelt. [ ] the late mr. g. smith says that the chaldean dragon was seven-headed. 'chaldean genesis,' p. . [ ] 'records of the past,' vii. . [ ] 'records of the past,' x. . [ ] see i. pp. and . concerning ketef see eisenmenger, ii. p. . [ ] isaiah xiv. it may appear as if in this personification of a fallen star we have entered a different mythological region from that represented by the assyrian tablets; but it is not so. the demoniac forms of ishtar, astarte, are fallen stars also. she appears in greece as artemis astrateia, whose worship pausanias mentions as coming from the east. her development is through asteria (greek form of ishtar), in whose myth is hidden much valuable babylonian lore. asteria was said to have thrown herself into the sea, and been changed into the island called asteria, from its having fallen like a star from heaven. her suicide was to escape from the embraces of zeus, and her escape from him in form of a quail, as well as her fate, may be instructively compared with the story of lilith, who flew out of eden on wings to escape from adam, and made an effort to drown herself in the red sea. the diabolisation of asteria (the fallen star) was through her daughter hecate. hecate was the female titan who was the most potent ally of the gods. her rule was supreme under zeus, and all the gifts valued by mortals were believed to proceed from her; but she was severely judicial, and rigidly withheld all blessings from such as did not deserve them. thus she was, as the searching eye of zeus, a star-spy upon earth. such spies, as we have repeatedly had occasion to mention in this work, are normally developed into devils. from professional detectives they become accusers and instigators. ishtar of the babylonians, asteria of the greeks, and the day-star of the hebrews are male and female forms of the same personification: hecate with her torch (hekatos, 'far-shooting') and lucifer ('light-bringer' on the deeds of darkness) are the same in their degradation. [ ] 'paradise lost,' i. - . [ ] and foremost rides prince rupert, darling of fortune and of war, with his beautiful and thoughtful face of twenty-three, stern and bronzed already, yet beardless and dimpled, his dark and passionate eyes, his long love-locks drooping over costly embroidery, his graceful scarlet cloak, his white-plumed hat, and his tall and stately form. his high-born beauty is preserved to us for ever on the canvas of vandyck, and as the italians have named the artist 'il pittore cavalieresco,' so will this subject of his skill remain for ever the ideal of il cavaliere pittoresco. and as he now rides at the head of this brilliant array, his beautiful white dog bounds onward joyously beside him, that quadruped renowned in the pamphlets of the time, whose snowy skin has been stained by many a blood-drop in the desperate forays of his master, but who has thus far escaped so safely that the puritans believe him a familiar spirit, and try to destroy him 'by poyson and extempore prayer, which yet hurt him no more than the plague plaster did mr. pym.' failing in this, they pronounce the pretty creature to be 'a divell, not a very downright divell, but some lapland ladye, once by nature a handsome white ladye, now by art a handsome white dogge.'--a charge with prince rupert. col. higginson's 'atlantic essays.' [ ] isa. lxiii. - . [ ] fol. , col. . [ ] maarecheth haëlahuth, fol. , col. . [ ] gesenius, heb. lexic. [ ] hairiness was a pretty general characteristic of devils; hence, possibly, the epithet 'old harry,' i.e., hairy, applied to the devil. in 'old deccan days,' p. , a rakshasa is described as hairy:--'her hair hangs around her in a thick black tangle.' but the beard has rarely been accorded to devils. [ ] buslaef has a beautiful mediæval picture of a devil inciting cain to hurl stones on his prostrate brother's form. [ ] forty-one eastern tales. [ ] the contest between the agriculturist and the (nomadic) shepherd is expressed in the legend that cain and abel divided the world between them, the one taking possession of the movable and the other of the immovable property. cain said to his brother, 'the earth on which thou standest is mine, then betake thyself to the air;' but abel replied, 'the garments which thou wearest are mine, take them off.'--midrash. [ ] sale's koran, vii. al araf. iblis, the mussulman name for the devil, is probably a corruption of the word diabolus. [ ] noyes' translation. [ ] eisenmenger, entd. jud. i. . [ ] job. i. , the literal rendering of which is, 'in all this job sinned not, nor gave god unsalted.' this translation i first heard from dr. a. p. peabody, sometime president of harvard university, from whom i have a note in which he says:--'the word which i have rendered gave is appropriate to a sacrifice. the word i have rendered unsalted means so literally; and is in job vi. rendered unsavory. it may, and sometimes does, denote folly, by a not unnatural metaphor; but in that sense the word gave--an offertory word--is out of place.' waltonus (bib. polyg.) translates 'nec dedit insulsum deo;' had he rendered tiphlah by insalsum it would have been exact. the horror with which demons and devils are supposed to regard salt is noticed, i. . [ ] gesenius so understands verse of chap. xiv. [ ] the much misunderstood and mistranslated passage, xix. - (already quoted), is certainly referable to the wide-spread belief that as against each man there was an accusing spirit, so for each there was a vindicating spirit. these two stood respectively on the right and left of the balances in which the good and evil actions of each soul were weighed against each other, each trying to make his side as heavy as possible. but as the accusations against him are made by living men, and on earth, job is not prepared to consider a celestial acquittal beyond the grave as adequate. [ ] 'the kingdom of heaven taken by prayer.' by william huntington, s.s. this title is explained to be 'sinner saved,' otherwise one might understand the letters to signify a surviving syrian. [ ] num. xxii. . [ ] sam. xxix. . [ ] sam. xix. . [ ] kings ii. . [ ] kings v. . [ ] kings xi. . [ ] kings xi. . [ ] zech. iii. [ ] cf. rev. vii. . [ ] 'the sight of hell,' prepared, as one of a 'series of books for children and young persons,' by the rev. father furniss, c.s.s.r., by authority of his superiors. [ ] m. anquetil du perron's 'zendavesta et vie de zoroastre.' [ ] as given in mr. alabaster's 'the wheel of the law' (trübner & co., ). in the apocryphal gospels, some of the signs of nature's joy attending the birth of buddha are reported at the birth of mary and that of christ, as the pausing of birds in their flight, &c. anna is said to have conceived mary under a tree, as maia under a tree brought forth buddha. [ ] 'mara, or man (sanscrit màra, death, god of love; by some authors translated 'illusion,' as if it came from the sanscrit màya), the angels of evil, desire, of love, death, &c. though king mara plays the part of our satan the tempter, he and his host were formerly great givers of alms, which led to their being born in the highest of the deva heavens, called paranimit wasawatti, there to live more than nine thousand million years, surrounded by all the luxuries of sensuality. from this heaven the filthy one, as the siamese describe him, descends to the earth to tempt and excite to evil.'--alabaster. [ ] some say djemschid, others guenschesp, a warrior sent to hell for beating the fire. [ ] leben jesu, ii. . the close resemblance between the trial of israel in the wilderness and this of jesus is drawn in his own masterly way. [ ] a passage of the pesikta (iii. ) represents a conversation between jehovah and satan with reference to messias which bears a resemblance to the prologue of job. satan said: lord, permit me to tempt messias and his generation. 'to him the lord said: you could have no power over him. satan again said: permit me because i have the power. god answered: if you persist longer in this, rather would i destroy thee from the world, than that one soul of the generation of messias should be lost.' though the rabbin might report the trial declined, the christian would claim it to have been endured. [ ] in his fresco of the temptation at the vatican, michael angelo has painted the devil in the dress of a priest, standing with jesus on the temple. [ ] 'idols and ideals.' london: trübner & co. new york: henry holt & co. in the essay on christianity i have given my reasons for this belief. [ ] 'paradise regained,' ii. [ ] 'henry luria; or, the little jewish convert: being contained in the memoir of mrs. s. t. cohen, relict of the rev. dr. a. h. cohen, late rabbi of the synagogue in richmond, va.' . [ ] 'heroes and hero-worship,' iv. [ ] 'sartor resartus.' london: chapman & hall, , p. . [ ] 'the american scholar.' an oration delivered before the phi beta kappa society at cambridge (massachusetts), august , . by ralph waldo emerson. [ ] the relations of this system to those of various countries are stated by professor king in his work 'the gnostics and their remains.' [ ] in the architectural museum, westminster, there is an old picture which possibly represents the hairy adam. [ ] josephus; 'wars of the jews,' vi. . [ ] those who wish to pursue the subject may consult plutarch, philo, josephus, diog. laertius; also eisenmenger, wetstein, elsner, doughtæi, lightfoot, sup. relig., &c. [ ] see 'supernatural religion,' vol. i. ch. and , for ample references concerning these superstitions among both jews and christians. [ ] 'saducismus,' p. . [ ] 'eastern morning news,' quoted in the 'national reformer,' december , . [ ] much curious information is contained in the work already referred to, 'l'eau benite au dix-neuvième siècle.' par monsignor gaume, protonotaire apostolique. paris, . it is there stated that water escaped the curse; that salt produces fecundity; that devils driven off temporarily by the cross are effectually dismissed by holy water; that st. vincent, interrupted by a storm while preaching, dispersed it by throwing holy water at it; and he advises the use of holy water against the latest devices of the devil--spirit-rapping. it must not, however, be supposed that these notions are confined to catholics. every element in the disquisition of monsignor gaume is represented in the region where his church is most hated. mr. james napier, in his recent book on folklore, shows us the scotch hastening new-born babes to baptism lest they become 'changelings,' and the true meaning of the rite is illustrated in a reminiscence of his own childhood. he was supposed to be pining under an evil eye, and the old woman, or 'skilly,' called in, carefully locked the door, now unlocked by her patient, and proceeded as follows:-- 'a sixpence was borrowed from a neighbour, a good fire was kept burning in the grate, the door was locked, and i was placed upon a chair in front of the fire. the operator, an old woman, took a tablespoon and filled it with water. with the sixpence she then lifted as much salt as it would carry, and both were put into the water in the spoon. the water was then stirred with the forefinger till the salt was dissolved. then the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands were bathed with this solution thrice, and after these bathings i was made to taste the solution three times. the operator then drew her wet forefinger across my brow--called scoring aboon the breath. the remaining contents of the spoon she then cast right over the fire, into the hinder part of the fire, saying as she did so, 'guid preserve frae a' skaith.' these were the first words permitted to be spoken during the operation. i was then put in bed, and, in attestation of the charm, recovered. to my knowledge this operation has been performed within these forty years, and probably in many outlying country places it is still practised. the origin of this superstition is probably to be found in ancient fire-worship. the great blazing fire was evidently an important element in the transaction; nor was this a solitary instance in which regard was paid to the fire. i remember being taught that it was unlucky to spit into the fire, some evil being likely shortly after to befall those who did so. crumbs left upon the table after a meal were carefully gathered and put into the fire. the cuttings from the nails and hair were also put into the fire. these freaks certainly look like survivals of fire-worship.' it may be well here to refer the reader to what has been said in vol. i. on demons of fire. the devil's fear of salt and consequently of water confirmed the perhaps earlier apprehension of all fiery phantoms of that which naturally quenches flame. [ ] we here get a clue to the origin of various strange ceremonies by which men bind themselves to one another. michelet, in his 'origines du droit français,' writes: 'boire le sang l'un de l'autre, c'etait pour ainsi dire se faire même chair. ce symbole si expressif se trouve chez un grand nombre de peuples;' and he gives instances from various ancient races. but, as we here see, this practice is not originally adopted as a symbol (no practices begin as symbols), but is prompted by the belief that a community of nature is thus established, and a community of power over one another. [ ] 'principles of sociology,' i. ch. xix. origen says, that a man eats and drinks with demons when he eats flesh and drinks wine offered to idols. (contra cels. viii. .) [ ] dr. james browne's 'history of the highlands,' ed. , i. . [ ] 'aurea legenda.' the story, as intertwined with that of the discovery of the true cross by the empress helena, was a fruitful theme for artists. it has been painted in various versions by angiolo gaddi in s. croce at florence, by pietro della francesca at arezzo, and in s. croce in ger. at rome are frescoes celebrating helena in a chapel named from her, but into which persons of her sex are admitted only once a year. [ ] to the 'secular chronicle,' february , . [ ] psalm lv. [ ] jer. xxv. ; xlvi. ; l. . [ ] isaiah xi. , . [ ] the more fatal aspect of the dove has tended to invest the pigeon, especially wild pigeons, which in oldenburg, and many other regions, are supposed to bode calamity and death if they fly round a house. [ ] sir nathaniel wraxall's memoirs. [ ] matt. xii. . [ ] mark iii. . [ ] i have before me an account by a christian mother of the death of her child, whom she had dedicated to the lord before his birth, in which she says, 'a full breath issued from his mouth like an etherial flame, a slight quiver of the lip, and all was over.' [ ] 'serpent poison.' it is substantially the same word as the demonic samaël. the following is from colonel campbell's 'travels,' ii. p. :--'it was still the hot season of the year, and we were to travel through that country over which the horrid wind i have before mentioned sweeps its consuming blasts; it is called by the turks samiel, is mentioned by the holy job under the name of the east wind, and extends its ravages all the way from the extreme end of the gulf of cambaya up to mosul; it carries along with it flakes of fire, like threads of silk; instantly strikes dead those that breathe it, and consumes them inwardly to ashes; the flesh soon becoming black as a coal, and dropping off the bones. philosophers consider it as a kind of electric fire, proceeding from the sulphurous or nitrous exhalations which are kindled by the agitations of the winds. the only possible means of escape from its fatal effects is to fall flat on the ground, and thereby prevent the drawing it in; to do this, however, it is necessary first to see it, which is not always practicable.' [ ] the 'sacred anthology,' p. . nizami uses his fable to illustrate the effect of even an innocent flower on one whom conscience has made a coward. [ ] nothing is more natural than the triad: the regions which may be most simply distinguished are the upper, middle, and lower. [ ] bhàgavàt-gita. [ ] gulistan. [ ] acts ii. [ ] compare gen. vi. . jehovah said, 'my breath shall not always abide in man.' [ ] among the many survivals in civilised countries of these notions may be noticed the belief that, in order to be free from a spell it is necessary to draw blood from the witch above the breath, i.e., mouth and nostrils; to 'score aboon the breath' is a scottish phrase. this probably came by the 'pagan' route; but it meets its christian kith and kin in the following story which i find in a (ms.) memorial sent to the house of lords in by the rev. thomas berney, rector of bracon ash, diocese of norwich:--'i was sent for in haste to privately baptize a child thought to be dying, and belonging to parents who lived 'on the common' at hockering. it indeed appeared to be very ill, and its eyes were fixed, and remarkably clouded and dull. having baptized, i felt moved with a longing desire to be enabled to heal the child; and i prayed very earnestly to the lord god almighty to give me faith and strength to enable me to do so. and i put my hands on its head and drew them down on to its arms; and then breathed on its head three times, in the name of the lord jesus christ. and as i held its arms and looked on it anxiously, its face became exceedingly red and dark, and as the child gradually assumed a natural colour, the eyes became clear again; and then it gently closed its eyes in sleep. and i told the mother not to touch it any more till it awoke; but to carry it up in the cradle as it was. the next morning i found the child perfectly well. she had not touched it, except at four in the morning to feed it, when it seemed dead asleep, and it did not awake till ten o'clock.' this was written by an english rector, and dated from the carlton club! the italics are in the original ms. now before me. the importance that no earthly hand should profanely touch the body while the spirit was at work in it shows how completely systematised is that insanity which consists of making a human mind an arena for the survival of the unfittest. [ ] luke xxii. . [ ] amos ix. , . [ ] cor. v. . [ ] cor. xi. . [ ] john iv. , . [ ] polycarp, ep. to philippians, vii. [ ] thess. ii. [ ] peter ii. . [ ] john xvii. . [ ] 'but,' says professor king (gnostics, p. ), 'a dispassionate examiner will discover that these two zealous fathers somewhat beg the question in assuming that the mithraic rites were invented as counterfeits of the christian sacraments; the former having really been in existence long before the promulgation of christianity.' whatever may have been the incidents in the life of christ connected with such things, it is certainly true, as professor king says, that these 'were afterwards invested with the mystic and supernatural virtues, in a later age insisted upon as articles of faith, by succeeding and unscrupulous missionaries, eager to outbid the attractions of more ancient ceremonies of a cognate character.' in the porch of the church bocca della verita at rome, there is, or was, a fresco of ceres shelling corn and bacchus pressing grapes, from them falling the elements of the eucharist to a table below. this was described to me by a friend, but when i went to see it in , it had just been whitewashed over! i called the attention of signor rosa to this shameful proceeding, and he had then some hope that this very interesting relic might be recovered. [ ] op. iv. . col. agrip. . [ ] for full details of all these superstitions see eisenmenger (entd. jud. li. armillus); d'herbelot (bib. orient. daggiel); buxtorf (lexicon, armillus); calmet, antichrist; and on the same word, smith; also a valuable article in m'clintock and strong's cyc. bib. lit. (american). [ ] deutsch, 'lit. remains.' islam. [ ] weil's 'biblical legends.' [ ] eisenmenger, ii. . [ ] see vol. i. pp. and . [ ] 'zoroastrische studien,' pp. - . with which comp. spiegel, transl. of avesta, iii. xlvii. [ ] 'studies in the hist. of the renaissance.' macmillan. [ ] 'chald. genesis,' by george smith, p. . [ ] this text was engraved by mrs. rose mary crawshay on a tomb she had erected in honour of her humble neighbour, mr. norbury, who sought knowledge for its own sake. few ancient scriptures could have supplied an inscription so appropriate. [ ] mr. baring-gould, quoting this (from anastasius sinaita, hodêgos, ed. gretser, ingolst. , p. ), attributes this shining face of seth to his previous character as a sun-god. ('old test. legends,' i. .) [ ] king's 'gnostics,' p. , n. [ ] tertullian's phrase, 'the devil is god's ape,' became popular at one time, and the ape-devil had frequent representation in art--as, for instance, in holbein's 'crucifixion' ( ), now at augsburg, where a devil with head of an ape, bat-wings, and flaming red legs is carrying off the soul of the impenitent thief. the same subject is found in the same gallery in an altdorfer, where the devil's face is that of a gorilla. [ ] s. cyp. ap. muratori, script. it. i. , . the magicians used to call their mirrors after the name of this flower-devil--fiorone. m. maury, 'la magie,' n. [ ] this whole subject is treated, and with ample references, in m. maury's 'magie,' p. , seq. [ ] 'la sorcière.' [ ] dasent's 'norse tales,' introd. ciii. [ ] 'chips,' ii. [ ] 'chester plays,' . [ ] 'declaration of popish impostures,' . [ ] so shakespere, 'the devil damn thee black.' [ ] in an account, , we find:--'pay'd for iij li of heare ijs vjd.' [ ] the directions for the 'castle of good perseverance,' say: '& he þt schal pley belyal, loke þt he have guñe powdr breñng in pypysih's hands & i h's ers & i h's ars whãne he gothe to batayle.' [ ] this notion was widespread. i have seen an ancient russian picture in which the devil is dancing before a priest who has become drowsy over his prayer-book. there was once a moslem controversy as to whether it was fair for pilgrims to keep themselves awake for their prayers by chewing coffee-berries. [ ] 'liber revelationum de insidiis et versutiis dæmonum adversus homines.' see reville's review of roskoff, 'the devil,' p. . [ ] see m. maury's 'magie,' p. . [ ] the history has been well related by a little work by dr. albert réville: 'apollonius of tyana, the pagan christ.' chatto & windus. [ ] sinistrari names luther as one of eleven persons whom he enumerates as having been begotten by incubi, 'enfin, comme l'ecrit codens, cité par maluenda, ce damné hérésiarque, qui a nom martin luther.'--'démonialité,' . [ ] glanvil's 'saducismus.' [ ] king lear, iii. . asmodeus and mohammed are, no doubt, corrupted in these names, which are given as those of devils in harsenet's 'declaration of popish impostures.' [ ] 'a discourse of witchcraft. as it was acted in the family of mr. edward fairfax, of fuystone, in the county of york, in the year . sibi parat malum, qui alteri parat.' [ ] w. f. poole, librarian of chicago, to whom i am indebted for a copy of governor thomas hutchinson's account of 'the witchcraft delusion of ,' with his valuable notes on the same. [ ] the delicacy with which these animals are alluded to rather than directly named indicates that they had not lost their formidable character in elfdale so far as to be spoken of rashly. [ ] glanvil, 'saducismus triumphatus,' p. . [ ] porphyry, ap. euseb. v. . the formula not preserved by eusebius is supposed by m. maury ('magie,' ) to be that contained in the 'philosophumena,' attributed to origen:--'come, infernal, terrestrial, and celestial bombo! goddess of highways, of cross-roads, thou who bearest the light, who travellest the night, enemy of the day, friend and companion of darkness; thou rejoicing in the baying of dogs and in shed blood, who wanderest amid shadows and over tombs; thou who desirest blood and bearest terrors to mortals,--gorgo, mormo, moon of a thousand forms, aid with a propitious eye our sacrifices!' [ ] 'the devil,' &c., p. . [ ] scheible's 'kloster,' , . zauberbücher. [ ] bayard taylor's 'faust,' note . see also his appendix i. for an excellent condensation of the faust legend from the best german sources. [ ] tertull. ad marcion, iii. . s. ignatii episc. et martyr ad phil. ep. viii. 'the prince of this world rejoices when any one denies the cross, for he knows the confession of the cross to be his ruin.' [ ] see his 'acta,' by simeon metaphrastus. [ ] i have been much struck by the resemblance between the dumpy monkish dwarf, in the old wall-picture of auerbach's cellar, meant for mephistopheles, and the portrait of asmodeus in the early editions of 'le diable boiteux.' but, as devils went in those days, they are good-looking enough. [ ] shelley's translation. [ ] bayard taylor's translation. scene iv. [ ] see lavater's physiognomy, plates xix. and xx., in which some artist has shown what variations can be made to order on an intellectual and benevolent face. [ ] 'der deutsche volksaberglaube der gegenwart.' von dr. adolf wuttke, prof. der theol. in halle. berlin: verlag von wiegand & grieben. . [ ] 'histoire de france et des choses mémorables,' &c. [ ] the universal myth of sleepers,--christianised in the myth of st. john, and of the seven whose slumber is traceable as far as tours,--had a direct pagan development in jami, barbarossa, arthur, and their many variants. it is the legend of the castle of sewingshields in northumberland, that king arthur, his queen and court, remain there in a subterranean hall, entranced, until some one should first blow a bugle-horn near the entrance hall, and then with 'the sword of the stone' cut a garter placed there beside it. but none had ever heard where the entrance to this enchanted hall was, till a farmer, fifty years since, was sitting knitting on the ruins of the castle, and his clew fell and ran downwards through briars into a deep subterranean passage. he cleared the portal of its weeds and rubbish, and entering a vaulted passage, followed the clew. the floor was infested with toads and lizards; and bats flitted fearfully around him. at length his sinking courage was strengthened by a dim, distant light, which, as he advanced, grew gradually brighter, till all at once he entered a vast and vaulted hall, in the centre of which a fire, without fuel, from a broad crevice in the floor, blazed with a high and lambent flame, that showed all the carved walls and fretted roof, and the monarch and his queen and court reposing around in a theatre of thrones and costly couches. on the floor, beyond the fire, lay the faithful and deep-toned pack of thirty couple of hounds; and on a table before it the spell-dissolving horn, sword, and garter. the shepherd firmly grasped the sword, and as he drew it from its rusty scabbard the eyes of the monarch and his courtiers began to open, and they rose till they sat upright. he cut the garter, and as the sword was slowly sheathed the spell assumed its ancient power, and they all gradually sank to rest; but not before the monarch had lifted up his eyes and hands and exclaimed-- o woe betide that evil day on which this witless wight was born, who drew the sword--the garter cut, but never blew the bugle horn. terror brought on loss of memory, and the shepherd was unable to give any correct account of his adventure, or to find again the entrance to the enchanted hall.--hodgson's 'northumberland.' [ ] this great discussion between the animals and sages is given in 'the sacred anthology' (london: trübner & co. new york: henry holt & co.). it is a very ancient story, and was probably written down at the beginning of the christian era. [ ] it is a strange proof of the ignorance concerning hindu religion that jugernath, raised in a sense for reprobation of cruelty to man and beast, should have been made by a missionary myth a western proverb for human sacrifices! [ ] st. olaf = stooley = tooley. [ ] high bloweth heimdall his horn aloft; odin consulteth mimir's head; the old ash yet standing yggdrasill to its summit is shaken, and loose breaks the giant.--voluspa. [ ] 'rigveda,' x. . [ ] 'zoolog. myth.,' ii. , , &c. [ ] 'the mahawanso.' translated by the hon. george turnour, ceylon, , p. . [ ] it was an ancient custom to offer a stag on the high altar of durham abbey, the sacrifice being accompanied with winding of horns, on holy rood day, which suggests a form of propitiating the wild huntsman in the hunting season. on the cheviot hills there is a chasm called hen hole, 'in which there is frequently seen a snow egg at midsummer, and it is related that a party of hunters, while chasing a roe, were beguiled into it by fairies, and could never again find their way out.'--richardson's 'borderer's table-book,' vi . the bridled devil of durham cathedral may be an allusion to the wild huntsman. [ ] in the pre-petrified era of theology this hope appears to have visited the minds of some, origen for instance. but by many centuries of utilisation the devil became so essential to the throne of christianity that theologians were more ready to spare god from their system than satan. 'even the clever madame de staël,' said goethe, 'was greatly scandalised that i kept the devil in such good-humour. in the presence of god the father, she insisted upon it, he ought to be more grim and spiteful. what will she say if she sees him promoted a step higher,--nay, perhaps, meets him in heaven?' though, in another conversation with falk, goethe intimates that he had written a passage 'where the devil himself receives grace and mercy from god,' the artistic theory of his poem could permit no nearer approach to this than those closing lines (faust, ii.) in which mephistopheles reproaches the 'case-hardened devil' and himself for their mismanagement. to the isolated, the not yet humanised, intellect sensuality is evil when senseless, and its hell is folly. [ ] 'demonialite,' - , &c. we may hope that this learned man, during his tenure of office under the inquisition, had some mercy for the poor devils dragged before that tribunal. [ ] 'reverberations.' by w. m. w. call, m.a., cambridge. second edition. trübner & co., . [ ] the holy grail was believed to have been fashioned from the largest of all diamonds, lost from the crown of satan as he fell from heaven. guarded by angels until used at the last supper, it was ultimately secured by arthur's knight, percival, and--such is the irony of mythology--indirectly by the aid of satan's own son, merlin! [ ] see mr. j. a. froude's article in 'fraser's magazine,' feb. , 'origen and celsus.' [ ] mr. w. w. lloyd's 'age of pericles,' vol. ii. p. . [ ] journal of the ceylon branch of the r. a. s., - : art. on 'demonology and witchcraft in ceylon,' by dundris de silva gooneratne modliar. [ ] euripides, 'medea,' . [ ] 'paradise lost,' x. . [ ] herodotus, 'clio,' - , . [ ] 'expression of the emotions.' by charles darwin. london: murray, . chapter iv. [ ] the giving of eve's name to noah's wife is not the only significant thing about this russian tradition and its picture. long-bearded devils are nowhere normal except in the representations by the eastern church of the monarch of hell. by referring to p. of this volume the reader will observe the influences which caused the infernal king to be represented as counterpart of the deity. as this tradition about noah's wife is suggestive of a gnostic origin, it really looks as if the devil in it were meant to act the part which the gnostics ascribed to jehovah himself (vol. ii. p. ). the devil is said in rabbinical legends to have seduced the wives of noah's sons; this legend seems to show that his aim was to populate the post-diluvial world entirely with his own progeny, in this being an ildabaoth, or degraded edition of jehovah trying to establish his own family in the earth by the various means related in vol. i. chap. . [ ] 'nischamath chajim,' fol. , col. . [illustration: an eagle pecking at the heart of a bearded man, chained to a rock, with the inscription: "cor ex est numquam ex cordis regina volantum".] the twilight of the gods: and other tales by richard garnett mdcccciii to horace howard furness and georg brandes. dabo duobus testibus meis contents the twilight of the gods the potion of lao-tsze abdallah the adite ananda the miracle worker the city of philosophers the demon pope the cupbearer the wisdom of the indians the dumb oracle duke virgil the claw alexander the ratcatcher the rewards of industry madam lucifer the talismans the elixir of life the poet of panopolis the purple head the firefly pan's wand a page from the book of folly the bell of saint euschemon bishop addo and bishop gaddo the philosopher and the butterflies truth and her companions the three palaces new readings in biography the poison maid notes the twilight of the gods truth fails not, but her outward forms that bear the longest date do melt like frosty rime. i the fourth christian century was far past its meridian, when, high above the summit of the supreme peak of caucasus, a magnificent eagle came sailing on broad fans into the blue, and his shadow skimmed the glittering snow as it had done day by day for thousands of years. a human figure--or it might be superhuman, for his mien seemed more than mortal--lifted from the crag, to which he hung suspended by massy gyves and rivets, eyes mournful with the presentiment of pain. the eagle's screech clanged on the wind, as with outstretched neck he stooped earthward in ever narrowing circles; his huge quills already creaked in his victim's ears, whose flesh crept and shrank, and involuntary convulsions agitated his hands and feet. then happened what all these millenniums had never witnessed. no thunderbolt had blazed forth from that dome of cloudless blue; no marksman had approached the inaccessible spot; yet, without vestige of hurt, the eagle dropped lifeless, falling sheer down into the unfathomable abyss below. at the same moment the bonds of the captive snapped asunder, and, projected by an impetus which kept him clear of the perpendicular precipice, he alighted at an infinite depth on a sun-flecked greensward amid young ash and oak, where he long lay deprived of sense and motion. the sun fell, dew gathered on the grass, moonshine glimpsed through the leaves, stars peeped timidly at the prostrate figure, which remained prostrate and unconscious still. but as sunlight was born anew in the east a thrill passed over the slumberer, and he became conscious, first of an indescribably delicious feeling of restful ease, then of a gnawing pang, acute as the beak of the eagle for which he at first mistook it. but his wrists, though still encumbered with bonds and trailing fetters, were otherwise at liberty, and eagle there was none. marvelling at his inward and invisible foe, he struggled to his feet, and found himself contending with a faintness and dizziness heretofore utterly unknown to him. he dimly felt himself in the midst of things grown wonderful by estrangement and distance. no grass, no flower, no leaf had met his eye for thousands of years, nothing but the impenetrable azure, the transient cloud, sun, moon, and star, the lightning flash, the glittering peaks of ice, and the solitary eagle. there seemed more wonder in a blade of grass than in all these things, but all was blotted in a dizzy swoon, and it needed his utmost effort to understand that a light sound hard by, rapidly growing more distinct, was indeed a footfall. with a violent effort he steadied himself by grasping a tree, and had hardly accomplished so much when a tall dark maiden, straight as an arrow, slim as an antelope, wildly beautiful as a dryad, but liker a maenad with her aspect of mingled disdain and dismay, and step hasty as of one pursuing or pursued, suddenly checked her speed on perceiving him. "who art thou?" he exclaimed. "gods! thou speakest greek!" "what else should i speak?" "what else? from whom save thee, since i closed my father's eyes, have i heard the tongue of homer and plato?" "who is homer? who is plato?" the maiden regarded him with a look of the deepest astonishment. "surely," she said, "thy gift has been bestowed upon thee to little purpose. say not, at least, that thou usest the speech of the gods to blaspheme them. thou art surely yet a votary of zeus?" "i a votary of zeus!" exclaimed the stranger. "by these fetters, no!" and, weak as he was, the forest rang with his disdainful laughter. "farewell," said the maiden, as with dilating form and kindling eye she gathered up her robes. "i parley with thee no more. thou art tenfold more detestable than the howling mob down yonder, intent on rapine and destruction. they know no better, and can no other. but thou, apt in speaking the sacred tongue yet brutally ignorant of its treasures, knowing the father of the gods only to revile him! let me pass." the stranger, if willing to hinder her, seemed little able. his eyes closed, his limbs relaxed, and without a cry he sank senseless on the sward. in an instant the maiden was kneeling by his side. hastily undoing a basket she carried on her arm, she drew forth a leather flask, and, supporting the sunken head with one hand, poured a stream of wine through the lips with the other. as the gurgling purple coursed down his throat the sufferer opened his eyes, and thanked her silently with a smile of exquisite sweetness. removing the large leaves which shaded the contents of the basket, she disclosed ripe figs and pomegranates, honeycomb and snow-white curd, lying close to each other in tempting array. the stranger took of each alternately, and the basket was well-nigh emptied ere his appetite seemed assuaged. the observant maiden, meanwhile, felt her mood strangely altered. "so have i imaged ulysses to myself," she thought as she gazed on the stranger's goodly form, full of vigour, though not without traces of age, the massive brow, the kindly mouth, the expression of far-seeing wisdom. "such a man ignorant of letters, and a contemner of zeus!" the stranger's eloquent thanks roused her from a reverie. the greek tongue fell upon her ear like the sweetest music, and she grieved when its flow was interrupted by a question addressed directly to herself. "can a god feel hunger and thirst?" "surely no," she rejoined. "i should have said the same yesterday," returned the stranger. "wherefore not to-day?" "dear maiden," responded he, with winning voice and manner, "we must know each other better ere my tale can gain credence with thee. do thou rather unfold what thine own speech has left dark to me. why the language of the gods, as should seem, is here understood by thee and me alone; what foes zeus has here other than myself; what is the profane crowd of which thou didst speak; and why, alone and defenceless, thou ascendest this mountain. think of me, if thou wilt, as one fallen from the clouds." "strange man," returned the maiden, "who knowest homer's speech and not homer's self, who renouncest zeus and resemblest him, hear my tale ere i require thine. yesterday i should have called myself the last priestess of apollo in this fallen land, to-day i have neither shrine nor altar. moved by i know not what madness, my countrymen have long ago forsaken the worship of the gods. the temples crumbled into ruin, prayer was no longer offered or sacrifice made as of old, the priestly revenues were plundered; the sacred vessels carried away; the voice of oracles became dumb; the divine tongue of greece was forgotten, its scrolls of wisdom mouldered unread, and the deluded people turned to human mechanics and fishermen. one faithful servant of apollo remained, my father; but 'tis seven days since he closed his eyes for ever. it was time, for yesternoon the heralds proclaimed by order of the king that zeus and the olympians should be named no more in caucasia." "ha!" interrupted the stranger, "i see it all. said i not so?" he shouted, gazing into the sky as if his eye could pierce and his voice reach beyond the drifting clouds. "but to thy own tale," he added, turning with a gesture of command to the astonished elenko. "it is soon told," she said. "i knew that it was death to serve the gods any more, yet none the less in my little temple did fire burn upon apollo's altar this morning. scarcely was it kindled ere i became aware of a ruffianly mob thronging to sack and spoil. i was ready for death, but not at their hands. i caught up this basket, and escaped up the mountain. on its inaccessible summit, it is reported, hangs prometheus, whom zeus (let me bow in awe before his inscrutable counsels) doomed for his benevolence to mankind. to him, as aeschylus sings, io of old found her way, and from him received monition and knowledge of what should come to pass. i will try if courage and some favouring god will guide me to him; if not, i will die as near heaven as i may attain. tell me on thy part what thou wilt, and let me depart. if thou art indeed zeus's enemy, thou wilt find enough on thy side down yonder." "i have been zeus's enemy," returned the stranger, mildly and gravely, "i am so no longer. immortal hate befits not the mortal i feel myself to have become. nor needest thou ascend the peak further. maiden, i am prometheus!" ii it is a prerogative of the gods that, when they do speak sooth, mortals must needs believe them. elenko hence felt no incredulity at the revelation of prometheus, or sought other confirmation than the bonds and broken links of chain at his wrists and ankles. "now," he cried, or rather shouted, "is the prophecy fulfilled with which of old i admonished the gods in the halls of olympus. i told them that zeus should beget a child mightier than himself, who should send him and them the way he had sent his father. i knew not that this child was already begotten, and that his name was man. it has taken man ages to assert himself, nor has he yet, as it would seem, done more than enthrone a new idol in the place of the old. but for the old, behold the last traces of its authority in these fetters, of which the first smith will rid me. expect no thunderbolt, dear maiden; none will come: nor shall i regain the immortality of which i feel myself bereaved since yesterday." "is this no sorrow to thee?" asked elenko. "has not my immortality been one of pain?" answered prometheus. "now i feel no pain, and dread one only." "and that is?" "the pain of missing a certain fellow-mortal," answered prometheus, with a look so expressive that the hitherto unawed maiden cast her eyes to the ground. hastening away from the conversation to which, nevertheless, she inly purposed to return. "is man, then, the maker of deity?" she asked. "can the source of his being originate in himself?" asked prometheus. "to assert this were self-contradiction, and pride inflated to madness. but of the more exalted beings who have like him emanated from the common principle of all existence, man, since his advent on the earth, though not the creator, is the preserver or the destroyer. he looks up to them, and they are; he out-grows them, and they are not. for the barbarian and triballian gods there is no return; but the olympians, if dead as deities, survive as impersonations of man's highest conceptions of the beautiful. languid and spectral indeed must be their existence in this barbarian age; but better days are in store for them." "and for thee, prometheus?" "there is now no place," replied he, "for an impeacher of the gods. my cause is won, my part is played. i am rewarded for my love of man by myself becoming human. when i shall have proved myself also mortal i may haply traverse realms which zeus never knew, with, i would hope, elenko by my side." elenko's countenance expressed her full readiness to accompany prometheus as far beyond the limits of the phenomenal world as he might please to conduct her. a thought soon troubled her delicious reverie, and she inquired: "peradventure, then, the creed which i have execrated may be truer and better than that which i have professed?" "if born in wiser brains and truer hearts, aye," answered prometheus, "but of this i can have no knowledge. it seems from thy tale to have begun but ill. yet saturn mutilated his father, and his reign was the golden age." while conversing, hand locked in hand, they had been strolling aimlessly down the mountain. turning an abrupt bend in the path, they suddenly found themselves in presence of an assembly of early christians. these confessors were making the most of elenko's dilapidated temple, whose smoking shell threw up a sable column in the background. the effigies of apollo and the muses had been dragged forth, and were being diligently broken up with mallets and hammers. others of the sacrilegious throng were rending scrolls, or dividing vestments, or firing the grove of laurel that environed the shrine, or pelting the affrighted birds as they flew forth. the sacred vessels, however, at least those of gold and silver, appeared safe in the guardianship of an episcopal personage of shrewd and jovial aspect, under whose inspection they were being piled up by a troop of sturdy young ecclesiastics, the only weapon-bearers among the rabble. elenko stood riveted to the ground. prometheus, to her amazement, rushed forward to one of the groups with a loud "by all the gods and goddesses!" following his movements, she saw that the object of his interest was an enormous dead eagle carried by one of the mob. the multitude, startled by his cry and his emotion, gazed eagerly at the strangers, and instantly a shout went up: "the heathen woman!" "with a heathen man!" and clubs began to be brandished, and stones to be picked up from the ground. prometheus, to whom the shouts were unintelligible, looked wistfully at elenko. as their eyes met, elenko's countenance, which had hitherto been all disdain and defiance, assumed an expression of irresolution. a stone struck prometheus on the temple, drawing blood; a hundred hands went up, each weighted with a missile. "do as i," cried elenko to him, and crossed herself. prometheus imitated her, not unsuccessfully for a novice. the uplifted arms were stayed, some even sank down. by this time the bishop had bustled to the front, and addressed a torrent of questions to prometheus, who merely shook his head, and turned to inspect the eagle. "brethren," said the bishop, "i smell a miracle!" and, turning to elenko, he rapidly proceeded to cross-examine her. "thou wert the priestess of this temple?" "i was." "thou didst leave it this morning a heathen?" "i did." "thou returnest a christian?" elenko blushed fire, her throat swelled, her heart beat violently. all her soul seemed concentrated in the gaze she fastened on the pale and bleeding prometheus. she remained silent--but she crossed herself. "who then has persuaded thee to renounce apollo?" elenko pointed to prometheus. "an enemy of zeus, then?" "zeus has not such another enemy in the world." "i knew it, i was sure of it," exclaimed the bishop. "i can always tell a christian when i see him. wherefore speaks he not?" "he is ancient, for all his vigorous mien. his martyrdom began ere our present speech was, nor could he learn this in his captivity." "martyrdom! captivity!" exclaimed the prelate gleefully, "i thought we were coming thither. an early martyr, doubtless?" "a very early martyr." "fettered and manacled?" "behold his wrists and ankles." "tortured, of course?" "incredibly." "miraculously kept alive to this day?" "in an entirely supernatural manner." "now," said the bishop, "i would wager my mitre and ring that his life was prolonged by the daily ministrations of yonder fowl that he caresses with such singular affection?" "never," replied elenko, "for one day did that most punctual bird omit to visit him." "hurrah!" shouted the bishop. "and now, its mission accomplished, the blessed creature, as i am informed, is found dead at the foot of the mountain. saints and angels! this is glorious! on your knees, ye infidels!" and down they all went, the bishop setting the example. as their heads were bowed to the earth, elenko made a sign to prometheus, and when the multitude looked up, it beheld him in the act of imparting the episcopal blessing. "tell him that we are all his brethren," said the bishop, which announcement became in elenko's mouth, "do as i do, and cleave to thy eagle." a procession was formed. the new saint, his convert, and the eagle, rode in a car at the head of it. the bishop, surrounded by his bodyguard, followed with the sacred vessels of apollo, to which he had never ceased to direct a vigilant eye throughout the whole proceedings. the multitude swarmed along singing hymns, or contending for the stray feathers of the eagle. the representatives of seven monasteries put in their claims for the links of prometheus's fetters, but the bishop scouted them all. he found time to whisper to elenko: "you seem a sensible young person. just hint to our friend that we don't want to hear anything about his theology, and the less he talks about the primitive church the better. no doubt he is a most intelligent man, but he cannot possibly be up to all the recent improvements." elenko promised most fervently that prometheus' theological sentiments should remain a mystery to the public. she then began to reflect very seriously on the subject of her own morals. "this day," she said to herself, "i have renounced all the gods, and told lies enough to last me my life, and for no other reason than that i am in love. if this is a sufficient reason, lovers must have a different code of morality from the rest of the world, and indeed it would appear that they have. will you die for me? yes. admirable. will you lie for me? no. then you don't love me. [greek: ball' eis korakas, eis tainaron, eis 'ogg kogg]." iii elenko soon found that there was no pausing upon the path to which she had committed herself. as the sole medium of communication between prometheus and the religious public, her time was half spent in instructing prometheus in the creed in which he was supposed to have instructed her, and half in framing the edifying sentences which passed for the interpretation of discourses for the most part far more interesting to herself than if they had been what they professed to be. the rapt and impassioned attention which she was observed to bestow on his utterances on such occasions all but gained her the reputation of a saint, and was accepted as a sufficient set-off against the unhallowed affection which she could not help manifesting for the memory of her father. the judicious reluctance of the caucasian ecclesiastics to inquire over-anxiously into the creeds and customs of the primitive church was a great help to her; and another difficulty was removed by the bishop, who, having no idea of encouraging a rival thaumaturgist, took an early opportunity of signifying that it was rather in the line of desmotes (for by this name the new saint passed) to be the subject than the instrument of miracles, and that, at all events, no more were to be looked for from him at his time of life. the warmth with which elenko espoused this view raised her greatly in his good opinion, and he was always ready to come to her aid when she became entangled in chronological or historical difficulties, or seasoned her versions of desmotes' speeches with reminiscences of plato or marcus aurelius, or when her invention failed altogether. on such occasions, if objectors grew troublesome, the bishop would thunder, "brethren, i smell a heresy!" and no more was said. one minor trouble both to prometheus and elenko was the affection they were naturally expected to manifest towards the carcase of the wretched eagle, which many identified with the eagle of the evangelist john. prometheus was of a forgiving disposition, but elenko wished nothing more ardently than that the whole aquiline race might have but one neck, and that she might wring it. it somewhat comforted her to observe that the eagle's plumage was growing thin, while the eagle's custodian was growing fat. but she had worse troubles to endure than any that eagles could occasion. the youth of those who resorted to her and prometheus attracted remark from the graver members of the community. young ladies found the precepts of the handsome and dignified saint indispensable to their spiritual health; young men were charmed with their purity as they came filtered through the lips of elenko. is man more conceited than woman, or more confiding? elenko should certainly have been at ease; no temptress, however enterprising, could well be spreading her nets for an antony three hundred years old. prometheus, on the contrary, might have found cause for jealousy in many a noble youth's unconcealed admiration of elenko. yet he seemed magnificently unconscious of any cause for apprehension, while elenko's heart swelled till it was like to burst. she had the further satisfaction of knowing herself the best hated woman in caucasia, between the enmity of those of whose admirers she had made an involuntary conquest, and of those who found her standing between them and prometheus. her monopoly of greek, she felt sure, was her only security. two constant attendants at prometheus's receptions particularly alarmed her, the princess miriam, niece of the bishop, a handsome widow accustomed to have things as she wished them; and a tall veiled woman who seemed unknown to all, but whose unseen eyes, she instinctively knew, were never averted from the unconscious prometheus. it was therefore with some trepidation that she received a summons to the private apartment of the princess miriam. "dear friend," the princess began, "thou knowest the singular affection which i have invariably entertained for thee." "right well do i know it," responded elenko. ("the thirty-first lie to-day," she added wearily to herself.) "it is this affection, dear friend," continued the princess, "which induces me on the present occasion to transgress the limits of conventional propriety, and make a communication distressing to thee, but infinitely more so to myself." elenko implored the princess to make no such sacrifice in the cause of friendship, but the great lady was resolute. "people say," she continued-- "what say they?" "that thy relation to desmotes is indiscreet. that it is equivocal. that it is offensive. that it is sacrilegious. that, in a word, it is improper." elenko defended herself with as much energy as her candour would allow. "dear friend," said the princess, "thou dost not imagine that i have part or lot in these odious imputations? even could i deem them true, should i not think charitably of thee, but yesterday a heathen, and educated in impiety by a foul sorcerer? my poor lamb! but tongues must be stopped, and i have now to advise thee how this may be accomplished." "say on." "people will always talk so long as thou art the sole medium of communication with the holy man. some deem him less ignorant of our speech than he seems, but concerning this i inquire not: for, in society, what seems, is. enough that thy colloquies expose thee to scandal. there is but one remedy. thou must yield thy place to another. it is meet that thou forthwith instruct in that barbarous dialect some matron of unblemished repute and devout aspirations; no mere ignorant devotee, however, but a woman of the world, whose prudence and experience may preserve the holy man from the pitfalls set for him by the unprincipled. manifestly she must be a married person, else nought were gained, yet must she not be chargeable with forsaking her duties towards her husband and children. it follows that she must be a widow. it were also well that she should be of kin to some influential personage, to whose counsel she might have recourse in times of difficulty, and whose authority might protect her against the slanderous and evil disposed. i have not been able to meet any one endowed with all these qualifications, excepting myself. i therefore propose to thee that thou shouldst instruct me in the speech of desmotes, and when i am qualified to take thy place my uncle shall elevate thee to the dignity of abbess, or bestow thee upon some young clergyman of extraordinary desert." elenko intimated, perhaps with more warmth than necessary, her aversion to both propositions, and the extreme improbability of the princess ever acquiring any knowledge of greek by her instrumentality. "if this is the case," said the princess, with perfect calmness, "i must have recourse to my other method, which is infallible." elenko inquired what it might be. "i shall represent to my uncle, what indeed he very well knows, that a saint is, properly speaking, of no value till he is dead. not until his decease are his relics available, or pilgrimages to his shrine feasible. it is solely in anticipation of this event that my uncle is keeping desmotes at all; and the sooner it comes to pass, the sooner will my revered relative come by his own. only think of the capital locked up in the new church, now so nearly completed, on the spot where they picked up the eagle! how shall it be dedicated to desmotes in desmotes' lifetime? were it not a most blissful and appropriate coincidence if the day of the consecration were that of the saint's migration to a better world? i shall submit this view of the case to my uncle: he is accustomed to hear reason from me, of whom, between ourselves, he is not a little afraid. thou mayest rely upon it that about the time of the consecration desmotes will ascend to heaven; while thou, it is gravely to be feared, wilt proceed in the opposite direction. would'st thou avert this unpleasantness, think well of my first proposal. i give thee credit for loving desmotes, and suppose, therefore, that thou wilt make some sacrifice for his sake. i am a kettle, thou art a pot. take heed how thou knockest against me!" elenko sped back to bear tidings of the threatened collision to prometheus. as she approached his chamber she heard with astonishment two voices in eager conversation, and discovered with still greater amazement that their dialogue was carried on in greek. the second speaker, moreover, was evidently a female. a jealous pang shot through elenko's breast; she looked cautiously in, and discerned the same mysterious veiled woman whose demeanour had already been an enigma to her. but the veil was thrown back, and the countenance went far to allay elenko's disquiet. it bore indeed traces of past beauty, but was altogether that of one who had known better days; worn and faded, weary and repining. elenko's jealousy vanished, though her surprise redoubled, when she heard prometheus address the stranger as "sister." "a pretty brother i have got," rejoined the lady, in high sharp tones: "to leave me in want! never once to inquire after me!" "nay, sister, or sister-in-law," responded prometheus, "if it comes to that, where were you while i was on caucasus? the oceanides ministered to me, hermes came now and then, even hercules left a card; but i never saw pandora." "how could i compromise epimetheus, prometheus?" demanded pandora. "besides, my attendant hope was always telling me that all would come right, without any meddling of mine." "let her tell you so now," retorted prometheus. "tell me now! do you pretend not to know that the hussey forsook olympus ten years ago, and has turned christian?" "i am sure i am very sorry to hear it. somehow, she never forsook _me_. i can't imagine how you gods get on without her." "get on! we are getting off. except eros and plutus, who seem as usual, and the old fates, who go on spinning as if nothing had happened, none of us expects to last for another ten years. the sacrifices have dwindled down to nothing. zeus has put down his eagle. hera has eaten her peacocks. apollo's lyre is never heard--pawned, no doubt. bacchus drinks water, and venus--well, you can imagine how she gets on without him and ceres. and here you are, sleek and comfortable, and never troubling yourself about your family. but you had better, or i swear i will tell zeus; and we shall see whether these christians will keep you with your ante-chamber full of starving gods. take a day to think of what i have been saying!" and away she flounced, not noticing elenko. long and earnestly did the pair discuss the perils that menaced them, and at the end of their deliberations elenko sought the bishop, and briefly imparted the princess miriam's ultimatum. "it is painful to a spiritual man," replied the prelate, "to be accessory to a murder. it is also repugnant to his feelings to deny a beloved niece anything on which she has set her heart. to avoid such grievous dilemma, i judge it well that ye both ascend to heaven without further ceremony." that night the ascent of prometheus and elenko was witnessed by divers credible persons. the new church was consecrated shortly afterwards. it was amply stored with relics from the wardrobe of prometheus and what remained of the eagle. the damsels of the capital regained their admirers, and those who had become enamoured of prometheus mostly transferred their affections to the bishop. everybody was satisfied except the princess miriam, who never ceased to deplore her indulgence in giving elenko the chance of first speech with her uncle. "if i had been five minutes beforehand with the minx!" she said. iv the heaven to which prometheus and elenko had ascended was situated in a sequestered valley of laconia. a single winding path led into the glen, which was inhabited only by a few hunters and shepherds, who still observed the rites of the ancient faith; and sometimes, deeming but to show kindness to a mortal, refreshed or sheltered a forlorn and hungry deity. saving at the entrance the vale was walled round by steep cliffs, for the most part waving with trees, but here and there revealing the naked crag. it was traversed by a silvery stream, in its windings enclosing prometheus's and elenko's cottage, almost as in an island. the cot, buried in laurel and myrtle, had a garden where fig and mulberry, grape and almond, ripened in their season. a few goats browsed on the long grass, and yielded their milk to the household. bread and wine, and flesh when needed, were easily procured from the neighbours. beyond necessary furniture, the cottage contained little but precious scrolls, obtained by elenko from athens and the newly founded city of constantine. in these, under her guidance, prometheus read of matters that never, while he dwelt on olympus, entered the imagination of any god. it is a chief happiness of lovers that each possesses treasures wholly their own, which they may yet make fully the possession of the other. these treasures are of divers kinds, beauty, affection, memory, hope. but never were such treasures of knowledge shared between lovers as between prometheus and elenko. each possessed immeasurable stores, hitherto inaccessible to the other. how trifling seemed the mythical lore which elenko had gleaned as the minister of phoebus to that now imparted by prometheus! the titan had seen all, and been a part of all that he had seen. he had bowed beneath the sceptre of uranus, he had witnessed his fall, and marked the ocean crimson with his blood. he remembered hoary saturn a brisk active deity, pushing his way to the throne of heaven, and devouring in a trice the stone that now resists his fangs for millenniums. he had heard the shields of the corybantes clash around the infant zeus; he described to elenko how one day the sea had frothed and boiled, and undraped aphrodite had ascended from it in the presence of the gazing and applauding amphitheatre of cloud-cushioned gods. he could depict the personal appearance of cybele, and sketch the character of enceladus. he had instructed zeus, as chiron had instructed achilles; he remembered poseidon afraid of the water, and pluto of the dark. he called to mind and expounded ancient oracles heretofore unintelligible: he had himself been told, and had disbelieved, that the happiest day of his own life would be that on which he should feel himself divested of immortality. of the younger gods and their doings he knew but little; he inquired with interest whether bacchus had returned in safety from his indian expedition, and whether proserpine had a family of divine imps. much more, nevertheless, had elenko to teach prometheus than she could learn from him. how trivial seemed the history of the gods to what he now heard of the history of men! were these indeed the beings he had known "like ants in the sunless recesses of caves, dwelling deep-burrowing in the earth, ignorant of the signs of the seasons," to whom he had given fire and whom he had taught memory and number, for whom he had "brought the horse under the chariot, and invented the sea-beaten, flaxen-winged chariot of the sailor?" and now, how poorly showed the gods beside this once wretched brood! what deity could die for olympus, as leonidas had for greece? which of them could, like iphigenia, dwell for years beside the melancholy sea, keeping a true heart for an absent brother? which of them could raise his fellows nearer to the source of all deity, as socrates and plato had raised men? who could portray himself as phidias had portrayed athene? could the muses speak with their own voices as they had spoken by sappho's? he was especially pleased to see his own moral superiority to zeus so eloquently enforced by Ã�schylus, and delighted in criticising the sentiments which the other poets had put into the mouths of the gods. homer, he thought, must have been in olympus often, and aristophanes not seldom. when he read in the cyclops of euripides, "stranger, i laugh to scorn zeus's thunderbolts," he grew for a moment thoughtful. "am i," he questioned, "ending where polyphemus began?" but when he read a little further on: the wise man's only jupiter is this, to eat and drink during his little day, and give himself no care-- "no," he said, "the zeus that nailed me to the rock is better than this zeus. but well for man to be rid of both, if he does not put another in their place; or, in dropping his idolatry, has not flung away his religion. heaven has not departed with zeus." and, taking his lyre, he sang: what floods of lavish splendour the lofty sun doth pour! what else can heaven render? what room hath she for more? yet shall his course be shortly done, and after his declining the skies that held a single sun with thousands shall be shining. v it was not long ere the gods began to find their way to prometheus's earthly paradise, and who came once came again. the first was epimetheus, who had probably suffered least of all from the general upset, having in truth little to lose since his ill-starred union with pandora. he had indeed reason for thankfulness in his practical divorce from his spouse, who had settled in caucasia, and gave greek lessons to the princess miriam. would prometheus lend him half a talent? a quarter? a tenth? a hundredth? thanks, thanks. prometheus might rely upon it that his residence should not be divulged on any account. notwithstanding which assurance, the cottage was visited next day by eleven gods and demigods, mostly titans. elenko found it trying, and was really alarmed when by and by the furies, having made over their functions to the devil, strolled up to take the air, and dropped in for a chat, bringing cerberus. but they behaved exceedingly well, and took back a message from elenko to eurydice. ere long she was on most intimate terms with all the dethroned divinities, celestial, infernal, and marine. beautiful and blessed beyond most things is youthful enthusiasm, looking up to something it feels or deems above itself. beautiful, too, as autumn sunshine is maturity looking down with gentleness on the ideal it has surpassed, and reverencing it still for old ideas and associations. the thought of beholding a deity would once have thrilled elenko with rapture, if this had not been checked by awe at her own presumption. the idea that a deity, other than some disgraced offender like prometheus, could be the object of her compassion, would never have entered her mind. and now she pitied the whole olympian cohort most sincerely, not so much for having fallen as for having deserved to fall. she could not conceal from herself how grievously they were one and all behind the age. it was impossible to make zeus comprehend how an idea could be a match for a thunderbolt. apollo spoke handsomely of homer, yet evidently esteemed the iliad and odyssey but lightly in comparison with the blind bard's hymn to himself. ceres candidly admitted that her mind was a complete blank on the subject of the eleusinian mysteries. aphrodite's dress was admirable for summer, but in winter seemed obstinate conservatism; and why should pallas make herself a fright with her gorgon helmet, now that it no longer frightened anybody? where elenko would fain have adored she found herself tolerating, excusing, condescending. how many elenkos are even now tenderly nursing ancient creeds, whose main virtue is the virtue of their professors! one autumn night all the principal gods were assembled under prometheus's roof, doing justice to the figs and mulberries, and wine cooled with taygetan snow. the guests were more than usually despondent. prometheus was moody and abstracted, his breast seemed labouring with thought. "so looked my pythoness," whispered apollo to his neighbour, "when about to deliver an oracle." and the oracle came--in lyric verse, not to infringe any patent of apollo's-- when o'er the towers of constantine an orient moon begins to shine, waning nor waxing aught, and bright in daytide as in deep of night: then, though the fane be brought to wreck, the god shall find, enthroned in human thought, a temple in the mind. "and what becomes of us while this prodigious moonshine is concocting?" demanded zeus, who had become the most sceptical of any of the gods. "go to elysium," suggested prometheus. "there's an idea!" cried zeus and pallas together. "to elysium! to elysium!" exclaimed the other gods, and all rose tumultuously, saving two. "i go not," said eros, "for where love is, there is elysium. and yonder rising moon tells me that my hour is come." and he flitted forth. "neither go i," said an old blind god, "for where plutus is, elysium is not. moreover, mankind would follow after me. but i too must away. strange that i should have abode so long under the roof of a pair of perfect virtue." and he tottered out. but the other gods swept forth into the moonlight, and were seen no more. and prometheus picked up the forsaken sandals of hermes, and bound them on his own feet, and grasped elenko, and they rose up by a dizzy flight to empty heaven. all was silent in those immense courts, vacant of everything save here and there some rusty thunderbolt or mouldering crumb of ambrosia. above, around, below, beyond sight, beyond thought, stretched the still deeps of æther, blazing with innumerable worlds. eye could rove nowhither without beholding a star, nor could star be beheld from which the gods' hall, with all its vastness, would not have been utterly invisible. elenko leaned over the battlements, and watched the racing meteors. prometheus stood by her, and pointed out in the immeasurable distance the little speck of shining dust from which they had flown. "there? or here?" he asked. "there!" said elenko. the potion of lao-tsze and there the body lay, age after age, mute, breathing, beating, warm, and undecaying, like one asleep in a green hermitage, with gentle sleep about its eyelids playing, and living in its dreams beyond the rage of death or life; while they were still arraying in liveries ever new the rapid, blind, and fleeting generations of mankind. in the days of the tang dynasty china was long happy under the sceptre of a good emperor, named sin-woo. he had overcome the enemies of the land, confirmed the friendship of its allies, augmented the wealth of the rich, and mitigated the wretchedness of the poor. but most especially was he admired and beloved for his persecution of the impious sect of lao-tsze, which he had well-nigh exterminated. it was but natural that such an emperor should congratulate himself upon his goodness and worth; yet, as no human bliss is perfect, sorrow could not fail to enter his mind. "it is grievous to reflect," said he to his courtiers, "that if, as ye all affirm, there hath not been any emperor of equal merit with myself before my time, neither will any such arise after me, my subjects must inevitably be sufferers by my death." to which the courtiers unanimously responded, "o emperor, live for ever!" "happy thought!" exclaimed the emperor; "but wherewithal shall it be executed?" the prime minister looked at the chancellor, the chancellor looked at the treasurer, the treasurer looked at the chamberlain, the chamberlain looked at the principal bonze, the principal bonze looked at the second bonze, who, to his great surprise, looked at him in return. "when the turn comes to me," murmured the inferior functionary, "i would say somewhat." "speak!" commanded the emperor. "o uncle of the stars," said the bonze, "there are those in your majesty's dominions who possess the power of lengthening life, who have, in fact, discovered the elixir of immortality." "let them be immediately brought hither," commanded the emperor. "unhappily," returned the bonze, "these persons, without exception, belong to the abominable sect of lao-tsze, whose members your majesty long ago commanded to cease from existence, with which august order they have for the most part complied. in my own diocese, where for some years after your majesty's happy accession we were accustomed to impale twenty thousand annually, it is now difficult to find twenty, with the utmost diligence on the part of the executioners." "it has of late sometimes appeared to me," said the emperor, "that there may be more good in that sect than i have been led to believe by my counsellors." "i have always thought," said the prime minister, "that they were rather misguided than wilfully wicked." "they are a kind of harmless lunatics," said the chancellor; "they should, i think, be made wards in chancery." "their money does not appear different from other men's," said the treasurer. "i," said the chamberlain, "have known an old woman who had known another old woman who belonged to this sect, and who assured her that she had been very good when she was a little girl." "if," said the emperor, "it appears that his grace the principal bonze hath in any respect misled us, his property will necessarily be confiscated to the imperial treasury, and the second bonze will succeed to his office. it is needful, however, to ascertain before all things whether this sect does really possess the elixir of immortality, for on that the entire question of its deserts obviously depends. our counsellor the second bonze having, next to myself, the greatest interest in the matter, i desire him to make due inquiries and report to us at the next council, when i shall be prepared to state what fine will be imposed upon him, should he not have succeeded." that night all the members of the lao-tsze sect inhabiting prisons under the jurisdiction of the principal bonze were decapitated, and the p.b. laid his own head upon his pillow with some approach to peace of mind, trusting that the knowledge of the elixir of immortality had perished with them. the second bonze, having a different object to attain, proceeded in a different manner. he sent for his captives, and discoursed to them touching the evil arts of unprincipled courtiers, and the facility with which they mislead even the best intentioned princes. for years had he, the second bonze, pleaded the cause of toleration at court; and had at length succeeded in enlightening his majesty to such an extent that there was every prospect of an edict of indulgence being shortly promulgated, provided always that the elixir of life was previously forthcoming. the unfortunate heretics would have been only too thankful to prolong the emperor's life indefinitely in consideration of securing peace for their own, but they could only inform the bonze of the general tradition of their sect. this was that the knowledge of lao-tsze's secret was confined to certain adepts, most of whom were plunged into so deep a trance that any communication with them was impossible. for the administration of the miraculous draught, it appeared, was attended with this inconvenience, that it threw the partaker into a deep sleep, lasting any time between ten years and eternity, according to the depth of his potation. during its continuance the ordinary operations of nature were suspended, and the patient awoke with precisely the same bodily constitution, old or young, as he had possessed on falling into his lethargy; and though still liable to wounds and accidents, he or she continued to enjoy undiminished health and vigour for a period equal to the duration of the trance, after which he sank back into the ranks of mortality, unless he could repeat the potion. all the adepts who had come to life under his present majesty's most clement reign had immediately emigrated: the only persons, therefore, capable of giving information were now buried in slumber, and of course would only speak when they should awake. they were mostly concealed in the recesses of caverns, those inhabited by wild beasts being usually preferred for the sake of better security, as no tiger or bear would harm a follower of lao-tsze. the witnesses, therefore, advised the bonze to ascertain the residences of the most ferocious tigers in his diocese, and to wait upon them personally, in the hope of thus discovering what he sought. this suggestion was exceedingly unpalatable to the bonze, who felt almost equally unwilling to venture himself into a wild beast's den or to give any other person the chance of making the discovery. while he hesitated in unspeakable perplexity he was informed that an old man, about to expire at the age of an hundred and twenty years, desired to have speech with him. thinking so venerable a personage likely to have at least a glimmering of the great secret, the bonze hurried to his bedside. "our master, lao-tsze," began the old man, "forbids us to leave this world with anything undisclosed which may contribute to the advantage of our fellow-creatures. whether he deemed the knowledge of the cup of immortality conducive to this end i cannot say, but the question doth not arise, for i do not possess it. hear my tale, nevertheless. ninety years ago, being a hunter, it was my hap to fall into the jaws of an enormous tiger, who bore me off to his cavern. i there found myself in the presence of two ladies, one youthful and of surpassing loveliness, the other haggard and wrinkled. the younger lady expostulated with the tiger, and he forthwith released me. my gratitude won the women's confidence, and i learned that they were disciples of lao-tsze who had repaired to the cavern to partake of the miraculous draught, which they were just about to do. they were, it appeared, mother and daughter, and i distinctly remember that the composition of the beverage was known to the daughter only. this impressed me, for i should naturally have expected the contrary. the tiger escorted me home. i forswore hunting, and became, and have secretly continued, a disciple of lao-tsze. i will now indicate the position of the cavern to thee: whether the ladies will still be found in it is beyond my power to say." and having pointed out the direction of the cavern, he expired. the thing had to be done. the bonze dressed himself up as much like a votary of lao-tsze as possible, provided himself with a body-guard of _bona fide_ disciples, and, accompanied by a small army of huntsmen and warriors as well, marched in quest of the den of the tiger. it was discovered about nightfall, and having tethered a small boy near the entrance, that his screams when being devoured might give notice of the tiger's issue from or return to his habitation, the bonze and his myrmidons took up a flank position and awaited the dawn. the distant howls of roaming beasts of prey entirely deprived the holy man of his rest, but nothing worse befell him, and when in the morning the small boy, instead of providing the tiger with a breakfast, was heard crying for his own, the besiegers mustered up courage to enter the cavern. the glare of their torches revealed no tiger: but, to the bonze's inexpressible delight, two females lay on the floor of the cave, corresponding in all respects to the description of the old man. their costume was that of the preceding century. one was wrinkled and hoary; the inexpressible loveliness of the other, who might have seen seventeen or eighteen summers, extorted a universal cry of admiration, followed by a hush of enraptured silence. warm, flexible, fresh in colour, breathing naturally as in slumber, the figures lay, the younger woman's arm underneath the elder woman's neck, and her chin nestling on the other's shoulder. the countenance of each seemed to indicate happy dreams. "can this indeed be but a trance?" simultaneously questioned several of the bonze's followers. "_fiat experimentum in corpore vili!_" exclaimed the bonze; and he thrust his long hunting spear into the elder woman's bosom. blood poured forth freely, but there was no change in the expression of the countenance. no struggle announced dissolution; not until the body grew chill and the limbs stiff could they be sure the old woman was indeed dead. "carry the young woman like porcelain," ordered the priest, and like the most fragile porcelain the exquisite young beauty was borne from the cavern smiling in her trance and utterly unconscious, while the corpse of her aged companion was abandoned to the hyænas. so often did the bearers pause to look on her beauty that it was found necessary to drape the countenance entirely, until reaching the closed sedan in which, vigilantly watched by the bonze, she was transported to the imperial palace. and so she was brought to the emperor, and he worshipped her. she was laid on a couch of cloth of gold in the imperial apartments. wonderful was the contrast between her youthful beauty, so still in its repose, and the old haggard emperor, fevered with the lust of beauty and love of life. "o majesty," said his wisest counsellor, "is there any sect in thy dominions that possesses the secret of perpetual youth?" and the emperor made proclamation, but no such sect could be found. and he mourned exceedingly, and caused strong perfumes to be burned around the sleeper, and conches to be blown and gongs beaten in her ears, hoping that she would awake ere he was dead or wholly decrepit. but she stirred not. and he shut himself up with her and passed his time praying to fo for her awakening. but one day the door of the chamber was beaten down, and his old wife came in passionately upbraiding him. "sin-woo," she cried, "thou hast not the heart of a man! thou wouldest be deathless, leaving me to die! i shall be laid in the grave, and thou wilt reign with another! wherefore have i been true to thee, if not that our ashes might mingle at the last? thou hoary sensualist!" "su-ti," said the emperor, with feeling, "thou dost grievously misjudge me. i am no heartless sensualist, no butterfly sipper at the lips of beauty. is not my soul entirely possessed by this divine creature, whom i love with an affection infinitely exceeding that which i have entertained for thee at any period? and how knowest thou," added he, striving to soothe her, "that i will not give thee to drink of the miraculous potion?" "and keep my grey hairs and wrinkles through all time! nay, sin-woo, i am no fool like thee, and were i so, i am not in love with any youth. and know i not that even if i would accept the boon, thou would'st never give it?" and she rushed away in fury and hanged herself by her imperial girdle. whereupon all the other wives and concubines of the emperor did likewise, as custom and reason prescribe. all the palace was filled with lamentation and funerals. but the emperor lamented not, nor turned his gaze from the sleeper, nor did the sleeper awaken. and his son came to him angry with exceeding wrath. "thou hast murdered my mother. thou would'st rob me of the crown that is rightfully mine. i, born to be an emperor, shall die a subject! nay, but i will save thee from thyself. i will pierce thy leman with the sword, or burn her with fire." and the emperor, fearing he would do as he threatened, commanded him to be slain, as also his brothers and sisters. and he paid no heed to the affairs of state, but gave all into the hand of the second, now the principal bonze. and the laws ceased to be observed, and rebellions broke out in the provinces, and enemies invaded the country, and there was famine in the land. and now the emperor was well-nigh ten years nearer to the gates of death than when the sleeping beauty had been brought to his court. the love of beauty was nearly quenched in him, but the longing for life grew more intense. he became angry with the sleeper, that she awakened not, and with his little remaining strength smote her fiercely on the cheeks, but she gave no sign of reviving. remembering that if he gained the potion of immortality he would himself be plunged into a trance, he made all preparations for the interregnum. he decreed that he was to be seated erect on his throne, with all his imperial insignia, and it was to be death to any one who should presume to remove any of them. his slumbering figure was to preside at all councils, and to be consulted in every act of state, and all ministers and officers were to do homage daily. the revived sleeping beauty was to partake of the draught anew, at the same time and in the same manner as himself, that she might awake with him, and that he might find her charms unimpaired. all the ministers swore solemnly to observe these regulations; firmly purposing to burn the sleeper, if sleep he ever did, at the very first opportunity, and scatter his ashes to the winds. then they would fight for the empire among themselves; each, meanwhile, was mainly occupied in striving to gain the rebels over to his interest, insomuch that the people grew more miserable day by day. and as the aged emperor waxed more and more feeble, he began to see visions. legions of little black imps surrounded him crying, "we are thy sins, and would be punished--would'st thou by living for ever deprive us of our due?" and fair female forms came veiled with drooping heads, and murmured, "we are thy virtues, and would be rewarded--would'st thou cheat us?" and other figures came, dark but lovely, and whispered, "we are thy dead friends who have long waited for thee--would'st thou take to thyself new friends, and forget us?" and others said, "we are thy memories--wilt thou live on till we are all withered in thy heart?" and others said, "we are thy strength and thy beauty, thy memory and thy wit--canst thou live, knowing thou wilt never see us more?" and at last came two warders, officers of the king of death, and one of them was laughing. and the other asked why he laughed, and he replied: "i laugh at the emperor, who thinks to escape our master, not knowing that the moment of his decease was engraved with a pen of iron upon a rock of adamant a million million years or ever this world was." "and when comes it?" asked the other. "in ten minutes," said the first. when the emperor heard this he was wild with terror, and tottered to the couch on which the sleeping beauty lay. "oh, awake!" he cried, "awake and save me ere it is too late!" and, oh wonder! the sleeper stirred, and opened her eyes. if she had been so beautiful while sleeping, what was she when awake! but the love of life had overcome the love of beauty in the emperor's bosom, and he saw not the eyes like stars, and the bloom as of peaches and lilies, or the aspect grand and smiling as daybreak. he could only cry, "give me the potion, lest i die, give me the potion!" "that cannot i," she said. "the secret was known only to my daughter." "who is thy daughter?" "the hoary woman, she who slept with me in the cavern." "that aged crone thy daughter, daughter to thee so youthful and so fresh? "even so," she said, "i bore her at sixteen, and slumbered for seventy years. when i awoke she was withered and decrepit: i youthful as when i closed my eyes. but she had learned the secret, which i never knew." "the bonze shall be crucified!" yelled the emperor. "it is too late," said she; "he is torn in pieces already." "by whom?" "by the multitude that are now coming to do the like unto thee." and as she spoke the doors were burst open, and in rushed the people, headed by the most pious bonze in the empire (after the late principal bonze), who plunged a sword into the emperor's breast, exclaiming: "he who despises this life in comparison with another deserves to lose the life which he has." words, saith the historian li, which have been thought worthy to be inscribed in letters of gold in the hall of confucius. and the people were crying, "kill the sorceress!" but she looked upon them, and they cried, "be our empress!" "remember," said she, "that ye will have to bear with me for a hundred years!" "would," said they, "that it might be a hundred thousand!" so she took the sceptre, and reigned gloriously. among her good acts is enumerated her toleration of the followers of lao-tsze. since, however, they have ceased to be persecuted by man, it is observed that wild beasts have lost their ancient respect for them, and devour them with no less appetite than the members of other sects and denominations. abdallah the adite an aged hermit named sergius dwelt in the wilds of arabia, addicting himself to the pursuit of religion and alchemy. of his creed it could only be said that it was so much better than that of his neighbours as to cause him to be commonly esteemed a yezidi, or devil worshipper. but the better informed deemed him a nestorian monk, who had retired into the wilderness on account of differences with his brethren, who sought to poison him. the imputation of yezidism against sergius was the cause that a certain inquisitive young man resorted to him, trusting to obtain light concerning the nature of demons. but he found that sergius could give him no information on that subject, but, on the contrary, discoursed so wisely and beautifully on holy things, that his pupil's intellect was enlightened, and his enthusiasm was inflamed, and he longed to go forth and instruct the ignorant people around him; the saracens, and the sabaeans, and the zoroastrians, and the carmathians, and the baphometites, and the paulicians, who are a remnant of the ancient manichees. "nay, good youth," said sergius, "i have renounced the sending forth of missionaries, having made ample trial with my spiritual son, the prophet abdallah." "what!" exclaimed the youth, "was abdallah the adite thy disciple?" "even so," said sergius. "hearken to his history. "never have i instructed so promising a pupil as abdallah, nor when he was first my disciple do i deem that he was other than the most simple-minded and well-intentioned of youths. i always called him son, a title i have never bestowed on another. like thee, he had compassion on the darkness around him, and craved my leave to go forth and dispel it. "'my son,' said i, 'i will not restrain thee: thou art no longer a child. thou hast heard me discourse on the subject of persecution, and knowest that poison was administered to me personally on account of my inability to perceive the supernatural light emanating from the navel of brother gregory. thou art aware that thou wilt be beaten with rods and pricked with goads, chained and starved in a dungeon, very probably blinded, very possibly burned with fire?' "'all these things i am prepared to undergo,' said abdallah; and he embraced me and bid me farewell. "after certain moons he returned covered with weals and scars, and his bones protruded through his skin. "'whence are these weals and scars?' asked i, 'and what signifies this protrusion of thy bones?' "'the weals and the scars,' answered he, 'proceed from the floggings inflicted upon me by command of the caliph; and my bones protrude by reason of the omission of his officers to furnish me with either food or drink in the dungeon wherein i was imprisoned by his orders.' "'o my son,' exclaimed i, 'in the eyes of faith and right reason these scars are lovelier than the moles of beauty, and the sight of thy bones is like the beholding of hidden treasure!' "and abdallah strove to look as though he believed me; nor did he entirely fail therein. and i took him, and fed him, and healed him, and sent him forth a second time into the world. "and after a space he returned, covered as before with wounds and bruises, but comely and somewhat fat. "'whence this sleekness of body, my son?' i asked. "'through the charity of the caliph's wives,' he answered, 'who have fed me secretly, i having assured them that in remembrance of this good work each of them in the world to come would have seven husbands.' "'how knewest thou this, my son?' i inquired. "'in truth, father,' he said, 'i did not know it; but i thought it probable.' "'o my son! my son!' exclaimed i, 'thou art on a dangerous road. to win over weak ignorant people by promises of what they shall receive in a future life, whereof thou knowest no more than they do! knowest thou not that the inestimable blessings of religion are of an inward and spiritual nature? did i ever promise any disciple any recompense for his enlightenment and good deeds, save flogging, starvation, and burning?' "'never, father," said he, 'and therefore thou hast had no follower of thy law save one, and he hath broken it.' "he left me after a shorter stay than before, and again went forth to preach. after a long time he returned in good condition of body, yet manifestly having something upon his mind. "'father,' he said, 'thy son hath preached with faithfulness and acceptance, and turned thousands unto righteousness. but a sorcerer hath arisen, saying, "why follow ye abdallah, seeing that he breathes not fire out of his mouth and nostrils?" and the people give ear unto the words that come from this man's lips, when they behold the flame that cometh from his nose. and unless thou teachest me to do as he doth i shall assuredly perish.' "and i told abdallah that it was better to perish for the truth's sake than to prolong life by lies and deceit. but he wept and lamented exceeding sore, and in the end he prevailed with me; and i taught him to breathe flame and smoke out of a hollow nut filled with combustible powder. and i took a certain substance called soap, but little known in this country, and anointed his feet therewith. and when he and the sorcerer met, both breathing flame, the people knew not which to follow; but when abdallah walked over nine hot ploughshares, and the sorcerer could not touch one of them, they beat his brains out, and became abdallah's disciples. "a long time afterward abdallah came to me again, this time with a joyful, and yet with somewhat of a troubled look, carrying a camel-hair blanket, which he undid, and lo! it was full of bones. "'o father,' he said, 'i bring thee happy tidings. we have found the bones of the camel of the prophet ad, upon which his revelation was engraved by him.' "'if this be so,' said i, 'thou art acquainted with the precepts of the prophet, and hast no need of mine.' "'nay, but father,' said he, 'although the revelation was without question originally engraved by the prophet on these very bones, it hath come to pass by the injury of time that not one letter of his writing can be distinguished. i have therefore come to ask thee to write it over again.' "'what!' i exclaimed, 'i forge a revelation in the name of the prophet ad! get thee behind me!' "'thou knowest, father,' he rejoined, 'that if we had the original words of the prophet ad here they would profit us nought, as by reason of their antiquity none would understand them. seeing therefore that i myself cannot write, it is meet that thou shouldst set down in his name those things which he would have desired to deliver had he been now among us; but if thou wilt not, i shall ask brother gregory.' "and when i heard him speak of having recourse to that cheat and impostor my spirit was grieved within me, and i wrote the book of ad myself. and i was heedful to put in none but wholesome and profitable precepts, and more especially did i forbid polygamy, having perceived a certain inclination thereunto in my disciple. "after many days he came again, and this time he was in violent terror and agitation, and hair was wanting to the lower part of his countenance. "'o abdallah,' i inquired, 'where is thy beard?' "'in the hands of my ninth wife,' said he. "'apostate!' i exclaimed, 'hast thou dared to espouse more wives than one? rememberest thou not what is written in the book of the prophet ad?' "'o father,' he said, 'the revelation of ad being, as thou knowest, so exceedingly ancient, doth of necessity require a commentary. this hath been supplied by one of my disciples, a young syrian and natural son of gregory, as i opine. this young man can not only write, but write to my dictation, an accomplishment in which thou hast been found lacking, o sergius. in this gloss it is set forth how, since woman hath the ninth part of the soul of man, the prophet, in enjoining us adites (as we now call ourselves) to take but one wife, doth instruct us to take nine; to espouse a tenth would, i grant, be damnable. it ensues, therefore, that having become enamoured of a most charming young virgin, i am constrained to repudiate one of the wives whom i have taken already. to this, each thinking that it may be her turn speedily, if not now, they will in no wise consent, and have maltreated me as thou seest, and the dens of wild beasts are at this moment abodes of peace, compared to my seraglio. what is even worse, they threaten to disclose to the people the fact, of which they have unhappily become aware, that the revelation of the blessed ad is not written upon the bones of a camel at all, but of a cow, and will therefore be accounted spurious, inasmuch as the prophet is not recorded to have ridden upon this quadruped. and seeing that thou didst inscribe the characters, o father, i cannot but fear that the fury of the people will extend unto thee, and that thou wilt be even in danger of thy life from them.' "this argument of abdallah's had much weight with me, and i the more readily consented to his request as he did not on this occasion require any imposture at my hands, but merely the restitution of his domestic peace. and i went with him to his wives, and discoursed with them, and they agreed to abide by my sentence. and, willing to please him, i directed that he should marry the beautiful virgin, and put away one of his wives who was old and ugly, and endowed with the dispositions of sheitan. "'o father,' said abdallah, 'thou hast brought me from death unto life! and thou, zarah,' he continued, 'wilt lose nought, but gain exceedingly, in becoming the spouse of the wise and virtuous sergius.' "'i marry zarah!' i exclaimed, 'i! a monk!' "'surely,' said he, 'thou would'st not take away her husband without giving her another in his stead?' "'if he does i will throttle him,' cried zarah. "and i wept sore, and made great intercession. and it was agreed that there should be a delay of forty days, in which space if any one else would marry zarah, i should be free of her. and i promised all my substance to any one who would do this, and no one was found. and she was offered to thirteen criminals doomed to suffer death, and they all chose death. and at the last i was constrained to marry her. and truly i have now the comfort of thinking that if i have offended by encouraging abdallah's deceits, or otherwise, the debt is paid, and eternal justice hath now nothing against me; for verily i was an inmate of gehenna until it came to pass that she was herself translated thither. and respecting the manner of her translation, inquire not thou too curiously. it was doubtless a token of the displeasure of heaven at her enormities that the water of the well of kefayat, which had been known as the diamond of the desert, became about this time undrinkable, and pernicious to man and beast. "as i sat in my dwelling administering to the estate of my deceased wife, which consisted principally of wines and strong liquors, abdallah again appeared before me. "'hast thou come,' said i, 'to solicit me to abet thee in any new imposture? know, once for all, that i will not.' "'on the contrary,' said he, 'i am come to set thee at ease by proving to thee that i shall not again require thy assistance. follow me.' "and i followed him to a great plain, where was a host of armed horsemen and footmen, more than i could number. and they bore banners on which the name of abdallah was embroidered in letters of gold. and in the midst was an ark of gold, with the bones of ad's camel, or cow. and by this was a great pile of the heads of men, and warriors were continually casting more and more upon the heap. "'how many?' asked abdallah. "'twelve thousand, o apostle of god,' answered they, 'but there are more to come.' "'thou monster!' said i to abdallah. "'nay, father,' said he, 'there will not be more than sixteen thousand in all, and these men were unbelievers. moreover we have spared such of their women as were young and handsome, and have taken them for our concubines, as is ordained in the eleventh supplement to the book of ad, just promulgated by my authority. but come, i have other things to manifest unto thee.' "and he led me where a stake was driven into the earth, and a man was chained unto it, and fuel was heaped all around him, and many stood by with lighted torches in their hands. "'o abdallah,' i exclaimed, 'wherefore this atrocity?' "'this man,' he replied, 'is a blasphemer, who hath said that the book of ad is written on the bones of a cow.' "'but it is written on the bones of a cow! 'i cried. "'even so,' said he, 'and therefore is his heresy the more damnable, and his punishment the more exemplary. had it been indeed written on the bones of a camel, he might have affirmed what pleased him.' "and i shook off the dust from my feet, and hastened to my dwelling. the rest of abdallah's acts thou knowest, and how he fell warring with the carmathians. and now i ask thee, art thou yet minded to go forth as a missionary of the truth?" "o sergius," said the young man, "i perceive that the temptations are greater, and the difficulties far surpassing what i had thought. yet will i go, and i trust by heaven's grace not to fail utterly." "then go," said sergius, "and heaven's blessing go with thee! come back in ten years, should i be living, and if thou canst declare that thou hast forged no scriptures, and worked no miracles, and persecuted no unbelievers, and flattered no potentate, and bribed no one with the promise of aught in heaven or earth, i will give thee the philosopher's stone." ananda the miracle worker the holy buddha, sakhya muni, on dispatching his apostles to proclaim his religion throughout the peninsula of india, failed not to provide them with salutary precepts for their guidance. he exhorted them to meekness, to compassion, to abstemiousness, to zeal in the promulgation of his doctrine, and added an injunction never before or since prescribed by the founder of any religion--namely, on no account to perform any miracle. it is further related, that whereas the apostles experienced considerable difficulty in complying with the other instructions of their master, and sometimes actually failed therein, the prohibition to work miracles was never once transgressed by any of them, save only the pious ananda, the history of whose first year's apostolate is recorded as follows. ananda repaired to the kingdom of magadha, and instructed the inhabitants diligently in the law of buddha. his doctrine being acceptable, and his speech persuasive, the people hearkened to him willingly, and began to forsake the brahmins whom they had previously revered as spiritual guides. perceiving this, ananda became elated in spirit, and one day he exclaimed: "how blessed is the apostle who propagates truth by the efficacy of reason and virtuous example, combined with eloquence, rather than error by imposture and devil-mongering, like those miserable brahmins!" as he uttered this vainglorious speech, the mountain of his merits was diminished by sixteen yojanas, and virtue and efficacy departed from him, insomuch that when he next addressed the multitude they first mocked, then hooted, and finally pelted him. when matters had reached this pass, ananda lifted his eyes and discerned a number of brahmins of the lower sort, busy about a boy who lay in a fit upon the ground. they had long been applying exorcisms and other approved methods with scant success, when the most sagacious among them suggested: "let us render the body of this patient an uncomfortable residence for the demon; peradventure he will then cease to abide therein." they were accordingly engaged in branding the sufferer with hot irons, filling his nostrils with smoke, and otherwise to the best of their ability disquieting the intrusive devil. ananda's first thought was, "the lad is in a fit;" the second, "it were a pious deed to deliver him from his tormentors;" the third, "by good management this may extricate me from my present uncomfortable predicament, and redound to the glory of the most holy buddha." yielding to this temptation, he strode forward, chased away the brahmins with an air of authority, and, uplifting his countenance to heaven, recited the appellations of seven devils. no effect ensuing, he repeated seven more, and so continued until, the fit having passed off in the course of nature, the patient's paroxysms ceased, he opened his eyes, and ananda restored him to his relatives. but the people cried loudly, "a miracle! a miracle!" and when ananda resumed his instructions, they gave heed to him, and numbers embraced the religion of buddha. whereupon ananda exulted, and applauded himself for his dexterity and presence of mind, and said to himself: "surely the end sanctifies the means." as he propounded this heresy, the eminence of his merits was reduced to the dimensions of a mole-hill, and he ceased to be of account in the eyes of any of the saints, save only of buddha, whose compassion is inexhaustible. the fame of his achievement, nevertheless, was bruited about the whole country, and soon reached the ears of the king, who sent for him, and inquired if he had actually expelled the demon. ananda replied in the affirmative. "i am indeed rejoiced," returned the king, "as thou now wilt without doubt proceed to heal _my_ son, who has lain in a trance for twenty-nine days." "alas! dread sovereign," modestly returned ananda, "how should the merits which barely suffice to effect the cure of a miserable pariah avail to restore the offspring of an elephant among kings?" "by what process are these merits acquired?" demanded the monarch. "by the exercise of penance," responded ananda, "in virtue of which the austere devotee quells the winds, allays the waters, expostulates convincingly with tigers, carries the moon in his sleeve, and otherwise performs all acts and deeds appropriate to the character of a peripatetic thaumaturgist." "this being so," answered the king, "thy inability to heal my son manifestly arises from defect of merit, and defect of merit from defect of penance. i will therefore consign thee to the charge of my brahmins, that they may aid thee to fill up the measure of that which is lacking." ananda vainly strove to explain that the austerities to which he had referred were entirely of a spiritual and contemplative character. the brahmins, enchanted to get a heretic into their clutches, immediately seized upon him, and conveyed him to one of their temples. they stripped him, and perceived with astonishment that not one single weal or scar was visible anywhere on his person. "horror!" they exclaimed; "here is a man who expects to go to heaven in a whole skin!" to obviate this breach of etiquette, they laid him upon his face, and flagellated him until the obnoxious soundness of cuticle was entirely removed. they then departed, promising to return next day and operate in a corresponding manner upon the anterior part of his person, after which, they jeeringly assured him, his merits would be in no respect less than those of the saintly bhagiratha, or of the regal viswamitra himself. ananda lay half dead upon the floor of the temple, when the sanctuary was illuminated by the apparition of a resplendent glendoveer, who thus addressed him: "well, backsliding disciple, art thou yet convinced of thy folly?" ananda relished neither the imputation on his orthodoxy nor that on his wisdom. he replied, notwithstanding, with all meekness: "heaven forbid that i should repine at any variety of martyrdom that tends to the propagation of my master's faith." "wilt thou then first be healed, and moreover become the instrument of converting the entire realm of magadha?" "how shall this be accomplished?" demanded ananda. "by perseverance in the path of deceit and disobedience," returned the glendoveer. ananda winced, but maintained silence in the expectation of more explicit directions. "know," pursued the spirit, "that the king's son will revive from his trance at the expiration of the thirtieth day, which takes place at noon to-morrow. thou hast but to proceed at the fitting period to the couch whereon he is deposited, and, placing thy hand upon his heart, to command him to rise forthwith. his recovery will be ascribed to thy supernatural powers, and the establishment of buddha's religion will result. before this it will be needful that i should perform an actual cure upon thy back, which is within the compass of my capacity. i only request thee to take notice, that thou wilt on this occasion be transgressing the precepts of thy master with thine eyes open. it is also meet to apprise thee that thy temporary extrication from thy present difficulties will only involve thee in others still more formidable." "an incorporeal glendoveer is no judge of the feelings of a flayed apostle," thought ananda. "heal me," he replied, "if thou canst, and reserve thy admonitions for a more convenient opportunity." "so be it," returned the glendoveer; and as he extended his hand over ananda, the latter's back was clothed anew with skin, and his previous smart simultaneously allayed. the glendoveer vanished at the same moment, saying, "when thou hast need of me, pronounce but the incantation, _gnooh imdap inam mua_, [*] and i will immediately be by thy side." [footnote: the mystic formula of the buddhists, read backwards.] the anger and amazement of the brahmins may be conceived when, on returning equipped with fresh implements of flagellation, they discovered the salubrious condition of their victim. their scourges would probably have undergone conversion into halters, had they not been accompanied by a royal officer, who took the really triumphant martyr under his protection, and carried him off to the palace. he was speedily conducted to the young prince's couch, whither a vast crowd attended him. the hour of noon not having yet arrived, ananda discreetly protracted the time by a seasonable discourse on the impossibility of miracles, those only excepted which should be wrought by the professors of the faith of buddha. he then descended from his pulpit, and precisely as the sun attained the zenith laid his hand upon the bosom of the young prince, who instantly revived, and completed a sentence touching the game of dice which had been interrupted by his catalepsy. the people shouted, the courtiers went into ecstasies, the countenances of the brahmins assumed an exceedingly sheepish expression. even the king seemed impressed, and craved to be more particularly instructed in the law of buddha. in complying with this request, ananda, who had made marvellous progress in worldly wisdom during the last twenty-four hours, deemed it needless to dilate on the cardinal doctrines of his master, the misery of existence, the need of redemption, the path to felicity, the prohibition to shed blood. he simply stated that the priests of buddha were bound to perpetual poverty, and that under the new dispensation all ecclesiastical property would accrue to the temporal authorities. "by the holy cow!" exclaimed the monarch, "this is something like a religion!" the words were scarcely out of the royal lips ere the courtiers professed themselves converts. the multitude followed their example. the brahminical church was promptly disestablished and disendowed, and more injustice was committed in the name of the new and purified religion in one day than the old corrupt one had occasioned in a hundred years. ananda had the satisfaction of feeling able to forgive his adversaries, and of valuing himself accordingly; and to complete his felicity, he was received in the palace, and entrusted with the education of the king's son, which he strove to conduct agreeably to the precepts of buddha. this was a task of some delicacy, as it involved interference with the princely youth's favourite amusement, which had previously consisted in torturing small reptiles. after a short interval ananda was again summoned to the monarch's presence. he found his majesty in the company of two most ferocious ruffians, one of whom bore a huge axe, and the other an enormous pair of pincers. "my chief executioner and my chief tormentor," said the king. ananda expressed his gratification at becoming acquainted with such exalted functionaries. "thou must know, most holy man," resumed the king, "that need has again arisen for the exercise of fortitude and self-denial on thy part. a powerful enemy has invaded my dominions, and has impiously presumed to discomfit my troops. well might i feel dismayed, were it not for the consolations of religion; but my trust is in thee, o spiritual father! it is urgent that thou shouldst accumulate the largest amount of merit with the least delay possible. i am unable to invoke the ministrations of thy old friends the brahmins to this end, they being, as thou knowest, in disgrace, but i have summoned these trusty and experienced counsellors in their room. i find them not wholly in accord. my chief tormentor, being a man of mild temper and humane disposition, considers that it might at first suffice to employ gentle measures, such, for example, as suspending thee head downwards in the smoke of a wood fire, and filling thy nostrils with red pepper. my chief executioner, taking, peradventure, a too professional view of the subject, deems it best to resort at once to crucifixion or impalement. i would gladly know thy thoughts on the matter." ananda expressed, as well as his terror would suffer him, his entire disapproval of both the courses recommended by the royal advisers. "well," said the king, with an air of resignation, "if we cannot agree upon either, it follows that we must try both. we will meet for that purpose to-morrow morning at the second hour. go in peace!" ananda went, but not in peace. his alarm would have well-nigh deprived him of his faculties if he had not remembered the promise made him by his former deliverer. on reaching a secluded spot he pronounced the mystic formula, and immediately became aware of the presence, not of a radiant glendoveer, but of a holy man, whose head was strewn with ashes, and his body anointed with cow-dung. "thy occasion," said the fakir, "brooks no delay. thou must immediately accompany me, and assume the garb of a jogi." ananda rebelled excessively in his heart, for he had imbibed from the mild and sage buddha a befitting contempt for these grotesque and cadaverous fanatics. the emergency, however, left him no resource, and he followed his guide to a charnel house, which the latter had selected as his domicile. there, with many lamentations over the smoothness of his hair and the brevity of his nails, the jogi besprinkled and besmeared ananda agreeably to his own pattern, and scored him with chalk and ochre until the peaceful apostle of the gentlest of creeds resembled a bengal tiger. he then hung a chaplet of infants' skulls about his neck, placed the skull of a malefactor in one of his hands and the thigh-bone of a necromancer in the other, and at nightfall conducted him into the adjacent cemetery, where, seating him on the ashes of a recent funeral pile, he bade him drum upon the skull with the thigh-bone, and repeat after himself the incantations which he began to scream out towards the western part of the firmament. these charms were apparently possessed of singular efficacy, for scarcely were they commenced ere a hideous tempest arose, rain descended in torrents, phosphoric flashes darted across the sky, wolves and hyænas thronged howling from their dens, and gigantic goblins, arising from the earth, extended their fleshless arms towards ananda, and strove to drag him from his seat. urged by frantic terror, and the example and exhortations of his companion, he battered, banged, and vociferated, until on the very verge of exhaustion; when, as if by enchantment, the tempest ceased, the spectres disappeared, and joyous shouts and a burst of music announced the occurrence of something auspicious in the adjoining city. "the hostile king is dead," said the jogi; "and his army has dispersed. this will be attributed to thy incantations. they are coming in quest of thee even now. farewell until thou again hast need of me." the jogi disappeared, the tramp of a procession became audible, and soon torches glared feebly through the damp, cheerless dawn. the monarch descended from his state elephant, and, prostrating himself before ananda, exclaimed: "inestimable man! why didst thou not disclose that thou wert a jogi? never more shall i feel the least apprehension of any of my enemies, so long as thou continuest an inmate of this cemetery." a family of jackals were unceremoniously dislodged from a disused sepulchre, which was allotted to ananda for his future residence. the king permitted no alteration in his costume, and took care that the food doled out to him should have no tendency to impair his sanctity, which speedily gave promise of attaining a very high pitch. his hair had already become as matted and his nails as long as the jogi could have desired, when he received a visit from another royal messenger. the rajah, so ran the regal missive, had been suddenly and mysteriously attacked by a dangerous malady, but confidently anticipated relief from ananda's merits and incantations. ananda resumed his thigh-bone and his skull, and ruefully began to thump the latter with the former, in dismal expectation of the things that were to come. but the spell seemed to have lost its potency. nothing more unearthly than a bat presented itself, and ananda was beginning to think that he might as well desist when his reflections were diverted by the apparition of a tall and grave personage, wearing a sad-coloured robe, and carrying a long wand, who stood by his side as suddenly as though just risen from the earth. "the caldron is ready," said the stranger. "what caldron?" demanded ananda. "that wherein thou art about to be immersed." "i immersed in a caldron! wherefore?" "thy spells," returned his interlocutor, "having hitherto failed to afford his majesty the slightest relief, and his experience of their efficacy on a former occasion forbidding him to suppose that they can be inoperative, he is naturally led to ascribe to their pernicious influence that aggravation of pain of which he has for some time past unfortunately been sensible. i have confirmed him in this conjecture, esteeming it for the interest of science that his anger should fall upon an impudent impostor like thee rather than on a discreet and learned physician like myself. he has consequently directed the principal caldron to be kept boiling all night, intending to immerse thee therein at daybreak, unless he should in the meantime derive some benefit from thy conjurations." "heavens!" exclaimed ananda, "whither shall i fly?" "nowhere beyond this cemetery," returned the physician, "inasmuch as it is entirely surrounded by the royal forces." "wherein, then," demanded the agonized apostle, "doth the path of safety lie?" "in this phial," answered the physician. "it contains a subtle poison. demand to be led before the king. affirm that thou hast received a sovereign medicine from the hands of benignant spirits. he will drink it and perish, and thou wilt be richly rewarded by his successor." "ayaunt, tempter!" cried ananda, hurling the phial indignantly away. "i defy thee! and will have recourse to my old deliverer--_gnooh imdap inam mua!"_ but the charm appeared to fail of its effect. no figure was visible to his gaze, save that of the physician, who seemed to regard him with an expression of pity as he gathered up his robes and melted rather than glided into the encompassing darkness. ananda remained, contending with himself. countless times was he on the point of calling after the physician and imploring him to return with a potion of like properties to the one rejected, but something seemed always to rise in his throat and impede his utterance, until, worn out by agitation, he fell asleep and dreamed this dream. he thought he stood at the vast and gloomy entrance of patala. [*] the lugubrious spot wore a holiday appearance; everything seemed to denote a diabolical gala. swarms of demons of all shapes and sizes beset the portal, contemplating what appeared to be preparations for an illumination. strings of coloured lamps were in course of disposition in wreaths and festoons by legions of frolicsome imps, chattering, laughing, and swinging by their tails like so many monkeys. the operation was directed from below by superior fiends of great apparent gravity and respectability. these bore wands of office, tipped with yellow flames, wherewith they singed the tails of the imps when such discipline appeared to them to be requisite. ananda could not refrain from asking the reason of these festive preparations. [footnote: the hindoo pandemonium.] "they are in honour," responded the demon interrogated, "of the pious ananda, one of the apostles of the lord buddha, whose advent is hourly expected among us with much eagerness and satisfaction." the horrified ananda with much difficulty mustered resolution to inquire on what account the apostle in question was necessitated to take up his abode in the infernal regions. "on account of poisoning," returned the fiend laconically. ananda was about to seek further explanations, when his attention was arrested by a violent altercation between two of the supervising demons. "kammuragha, evidently," croaked one. "damburanana, of course," snarled the other. "may i," inquired ananda of the fiend he had before addressed, "presume to ask the signification of kammuragha and damburanana?" "they are two hells," replied the demon. "in kammuragha the occupant is plunged into melted pitch and fed with melted lead. in damburanana he is plunged into melted lead and fed with melted pitch. my colleagues are debating which is the more appropriate to the demerits of our guest ananda." ere ananda had had time to digest this announcement a youthful imp descended from above with agility, and, making a profound reverence, presented himself before the disputants. "venerable demons," interposed he, "might my insignificance venture to suggest that we cannot well testify too much honour for our visitor ananda, seeing that he is the only apostle of buddha with whose company we are likely ever to be indulged? wherefore i would propose that neither kammuragha nor damburanana be assigned for his residence, but that the amenities of all the two hundred and forty-four thousand hells be combined in a new one, constructed especially for his reception." the imp having thus spoken, the senior demons were amazed at his precocity, and performed a _pradakshina_, exclaiming, "truly thou art a highly superior young devil!" they then departed to prepare the new infernal chamber, agreeably to his recipe. ananda awoke, shuddering with terror. "why," he exclaimed, "why was i ever an apostle? o buddha! buddha! how hard are the paths of saintliness! how prone to error are the well-meaning! how huge is the absurdity of spiritual pride!" "thou hast discovered that, my son?" said a gentle voice in his vicinity. he turned and beheld the divine buddha, radiant with a mild and benignant light. a cloud seemed rolled away from his vision, and he recognised in his master the glendoveer, the jogi, and the physician. "o holy teacher!" exclaimed he in extreme perturbation, "whither shall i turn? my sin forbids me to approach thee." "not on account of thy sin art thou forbidden, my son," returned buddha, "but on account of the ridiculous and unsavoury plight to which thy knavery and disobedience have reduced thee. i have now appeared to remind thee that this day all my apostles meet on mount vindhya to render an account of their mission, and to inquire whether i am to deliver thine in thy stead, or whether thou art minded to proclaim it thyself." "i will render it with my own lips," resolutely exclaimed ananda. "it is meet that i should bear the humiliation of acknowledging my folly." "thou hast said well, my son," replied buddha, "and in return i will permit thee to discard the attire, if such it may be termed, of a jogi, and to appear in our assembly wearing the yellow robe as beseems my disciple. nay, i will even infringe my own rule on thy behalf, and perform a not inconsiderable miracle by immediately transporting thee to the summit of vindhya, where the faithful are already beginning to assemble. thou wouldst otherwise incur much risk of being torn to pieces by the multitude, who, as the shouts now approaching may instruct thee, are beginning to extirpate my religion at the instigation of the new king, thy hopeful pupil. the old king is dead, poisoned by the brahmins." "o master! master!" exclaimed ananda, weeping bitterly, "and is all the work undone, and all by my fault and folly?" "that which is built on fraud and imposture can by no means endure," returned buddha, "be it the very truth of heaven. be comforted; thou shalt proclaim my doctrine to better purpose in other lands. thou hast this time but a sorry account to render of thy stewardship; yet thou mayest truly declare that thou hast obeyed my precept in the letter, if not in the spirit, since none can assert that thou hast ever wrought any miracle." the city of philosophers i nature is manifold, not infinite, though the extent of the resources of which she can dispose almost enables her to pass for such. her cards are so multitudinous that the pairs are easily shuffled into ages so far asunder that their resemblance escapes remark. but sometimes her mischievous daughter fortune manages to thrust these duplicates into such conspicuous places that their similarity cannot pass unobserved, and nature is caught plagiarising from herself. she is thus detected dealing a king--or knave--a second time in the person of a king who has already fallen from her pack as an emperor. brilliant, careless, selfish, yet good-natured _vauriens_, the roman emperor gallienus and our charles the second excelled in every art save the art of reigning, and might have excelled in that also if they would have taken the trouble. the circumstances of their reigns were in many respects as similar as their characters. both were the sons of grave and strict fathers, each of whom had met with terrible misfortunes: one deprived of his liberty by his enemies, the other of his head by his own subjects. each of the sons had been grievously vexed by rebels, but charles's troubles from this quarter had mostly ended where those of gallienus began. each saw his dominions ravaged by pestilence in a manner beyond all former experience. the goths destroyed the temple of the ephesian diana, and the dutch burned the english fleet at chatham. charles shut up the exchequer, and gallienus debased the coinage. charles accepted a pension from louis xiv., and gallienus devolved the burden of his eastern provinces on a syrian emir. their tastes and pursuits were as similar as their histories. charles excelled as a wit and a critic; gallienus as a poet and a gastronomer. charles was curious about chemistry, and founded the royal society. in the third century the conception of the systematic investigation of nature did not exist. gallienus, therefore, could not patronise exact science; and the great literary light of the age, longinus, irradiated the court of palmyra. but the emperor bestowed his favour in ample measure on the chief contemporary philosopher, plotinus, who strove to unite the characters of plato and pythagoras, of sage and seer. like schelling in time to come, he maintained the necessity of a special organ for the apprehension of philosophy, without perceiving that he thereby proclaimed philosophy bankrupt, and placed himself on the level of the oriental hierophants, with whose sublime quackeries the modest sage could not hope to contend. so extreme was his humility, that he would not claim to have been consciously united to the divinity more than four times in his life; without condemning magic and thaumaturgy, he left their practice to more adventurous spirits, and contented himself with the occasional visits of a familiar demon in the shape of a serpent. he experienced, however, frequent visitations of trance or ecstasy, sometimes lasting for a long period; and it may have been in one of these that he was inspired by the idea of asking the emperor for a decayed city in campania, there to establish a philosophic commonwealth as nearly upon the model of plato's republic as the degeneracy of the times would allow. "i cannot," said gallienus, when the project had been explained to him, "object in principle to aught so festive and jocose. the age is turned upside down; its comedians are lamentable, and its sages ludicrous. it must moreover, i apprehend, be sated with the earthquakes, famines, pestilences, and barbarian invasions with which it hath been exclusively regaled for so long, and must crave something enlivening, of the nature of thy proposition. but whether, when we arrive at the consideration of ways and means, i shall find my interview with my treasurer enlivening, is gravely to be questioned. i have heard homilies enough on my prodigality, which merely means that i prefer spending my treasures on myself to saving them for my successor, whose title will probably have been acquired by cutting my throat." "i know," said plotinus, "that the expenses of administering an empire must necessarily be prodigious. i am aware that the principal generals are only kept to their allegiance by enormous bribes. i well understand that the empress must have pearls, and that the roman populace must have panthers; and that, since egypt has revolted, the hippopotamus is worth his weight in gold. i am further aware that the proposed colossal statue of your majesty in the same metal, including a staircase, with room in the head for a child, like another pallas in the brain of zeus, must alone involve very considerable outlay. but i am encouraged by your majesty's wise and statesmanlike measure of debasing the currency; since, money having become devoid of value, there can be no difficulty in devoting any amount of it to any purpose required." "plotinus," said gallienus, "in this age the devil is taking the hindmost, and we are the hindmost. there are tidings to-day of a new earthquake in bithynia, and three days' darkness, also of outbreaks of pestilence, and incursions of the barbarians, too numerous as well as too disagreeable to mention. at this moment some revolted legion is probably forcing the purple upon some reluctant general; and the persian king, a great equestrian, is doubtless mounting his horse by the aid of my father's back. if i had been an old roman, i should by this time have avenged my father, but i am a man of my age. take the money for thy city, and see that it yields me some amusement at any rate. i assume, of course, that thou wilt exercise severe economy, and that cresses and spring water will be the diet of thy philosophers. farewell, i go to gaul to encounter postumus. willingly would i leave him in peace in gaul if he would leave me in peace in italy; but i foresee that if i do not attack him there he will attack me here. as if the empire were not large enough for us all! what an ass the fellow must be!" and so gallienus changed his silk for steel, and departed for his gallic campaign, where he bore himself more stoutly than his light talk would have led those who judged him by it to expect. plotinus, provided with an imperial rescript, undertook the regulation of his philosophical commonwealth in campania, where a brief experience of architects and sophists threw him into an ecstasy, not of joy, which endured an unusually long time. ii on awakening from his long trance, plotinus's first sensation was one of bodily hunger, the second of an even keener appetite for news of his philosophical republic. in both respects it promised well to perceive that his chamber was occupied by his most eminent scholar, porphyry, though he was less gratified to observe his disciple busied, instead of with the scrolls of the sages, with an enormous roll of accounts, which appeared to be occasioning him much perplexity. "porphyry!" cried the master, and the faithful disciple was by his couch in a moment. we pass over the mutual joy, the greetings, the administration of restoratives and creature comforts, the eager interrogations of porphyry respecting the things his master had heard and seen in his trance, which proved to be unspeakable. "and now," said plotinus, who with all his mysticism was so good a man of business that, as his biographers acquaint us, he was in special request as a trustee, "and now, concerning this roll of thine. is it possible that the accounts connected with the installation of a few abstemious lovers of wisdom can have swollen to such a prodigous bulk? but indeed, why few? peradventure all the philosophers of the earth have flocked to my city." "it has, indeed," said porphyry evasively, "been found necessary to incur certain expenses not originally foreseen." "for a library, perhaps?" inquired plotinus. "i remember thinking, just before my ecstasy, that the scrolls of the divine plato, many of them autographic, might require some special housing." "i rejoice to state," rejoined porphyry, "that it is not these volumes that have involved us in our present difficulties with the superintendent of the imperial treasury, nor can they indeed, seeing that they are now impignorated with him." "plato's manuscripts pawned!" exclaimed plotinus, aghast. "wherefore?" "as part collateral security for expenses incurred on behalf of objects deemed of more importance by the majority of the philosophers." "for example?" "repairing bath and completing amphitheatre." "bath! amphitheatre!" gasped plotinus. "o dear master," remonstrated porphyry, "thou didst not deem that philosophers could be induced to settle in a spot devoid of these necessaries? not a single one would have stayed if i had not yielded to their demands, which, as regarded the bath, involved the addition of exedrae and of a sphaeristerium." "and what can they want with an amphitheatre?" groaned plotinus. "they _say_ it is for lectures," replied porphyry; "i trust there is no truth in the rumour that the head of the stoics is three parts owner of a lion of singular ferocity." "i must see to this as soon as i can get about," said plotinus, turning to the accounts. "what's this? to couch and litter for head of peripatetic school!" "who is so enormously fat," explained porphyry, "that these conveniences are really indispensable to him. the peripatetic school is positively at a standstill." "and no great matter," said plotinus; "its master aristotle was at best a rationalist, without perception of the supersensual. what's this? to maximus, for the invocation of demons." "that," said porphyry, "is our own platonic dirty linen, and i heartily wish we were washing it elsewhere. thou must know, dear master, that during thy trance the theurgic movement has attained a singular development, and that thou art regarded with disdain by thy younger disciples as one wholly behind the age, unacquainted with the higher magic, and who can produce no other outward and visible token of the divine favour than the occasional companionship of a serpent." "i would not assert that theurgy may not be lawfully undertaken," replied plotinus, "provided that the adept shall have purified himself by a fast of forty months." "it may be from neglect of this precaution," said porphyry, "that our maximus finds it so much easier to evoke the shades of commodus and caracalla than those of socrates and marcus aurelius; and that these good spirits, when they do come, have no more recondite information to convey than that virtue differs from vice, and that one's grandmother is a fitting object of reverence." "i fear this must expose platonic truth to the derision of epicurean scoffers," remarked plotinus. "o master, speak not of epicureans, still less of stoics! wait till thou hast regained thy full strength, and then take counsel of some oracle." "what meanest thou?" exclaimed plotinus, "i insist upon knowing." porphyry was saved from replying by the hasty entrance of a bustling portly personage of loud voice and imperious manner, in whom plotinus recognised theocles, the chief of the stoics. "i rejoice, plotinus," he began, "that thou hast at length emerged from that condition of torpor, so unworthy of a philosopher, which i might well designate as charlatanism were i not so firmly determined to speak no word which can offend any man. thou wilt now be able to reprehend the malice or obtuseness of thy deputy, and to do me right in my contention with these impure dogs." "which be they?" asked plotinus. "do i not sufficiently indicate the followers of epicurus?" demanded the stoic. "o master," explained porphyry, "in allotting and fitting up apartments designed for the respective sects of philosophers i naturally gave heed to what i understood to be the principles of each. to the epicureans, as lovers of pleasure and luxury, i assigned the most commodious quarters, furnished the same with soft cushions and costly hangings, and provided a liberal table. i should have deemed it insulting to have offered any of these things to the frugal followers of zeno, and nothing can surpass my astonishment at the manner in which the austere theocles has incessantly persecuted me for choice food and wine, stately rooms and soft couches." "o plotinus," replied theocles, "let me make the grounds of my conduct clear to thee. in the first place, the honour of my school is in my keeping. what will the vulgar think when they see the sty of epicurus sumptuously adorned, and the porch of zeno shabby and bare? will they not deem that the epicureans are highly respected and the stoics made of little account? furthermore, how can i and my disciples manifest our contempt for gold, dainties, wine, fine linen, and all the other instruments of luxury, unless we have them to despise? shall we not appear like foxes, vilipending the grapes that we cannot reach? not so; offer me delicacies that i may reject them, wine that i may pour it into the kennel, tyrian purple that i may trample upon it, gold that i may fling it away; if it break an epicurean's head, so much the better." "plotinus," said hermon, the chief of the epicureans, who had meanwhile entered the apartment, "let this hypocrite have what he wants, and send him away. i and my followers are perfectly willing to remove at once into the inferior apartments, and leave ours for his occupation with all their furniture, and the reversion of our bill of fare. thou should'st know that the imputations of the vulgar against our sect are the grossest calumnies. the epicurean places happiness in tranquil enjoyment, not in luxury or sensual pleasures. there is not a thing i possess which i am not perfectly willing to resign, except the society of my female disciple." "thy female disciple!" exclaimed the horrified plotinus. "thou art worse than the stoic!" "plotinus," said the epicurean, "consider well ere, as is the manner of platonists, thou committest thyself to a proposition of a transparently foolish nature. thou desirest to gather all sorts of philosophers around thee, but to what end, if they are restrained from manifesting their characteristic tenets? thou mightest as well seek to illustrate the habits of animals by establishing a menagerie in which panthers should eat grass, and antelopes be dieted on rabbits. an epicurean without his female companion, unless by his own choice, is no more an epicurean than a cynic is a cynic without his rags and his impudence. wilt thou take from me my pannychis, an object pleasing to the eye, and leave yonder fellow his tatters and his vermin?" the apartment had gradually filled with philosophers, and hermon was pointing to a follower of diogenes whose robe so fully bespoke his obedience to his master's precepts that his skin seemed almost clean in comparison. "consider also," continued the epicurean, "that thou art thyself by no means exempt from scandal." "what does the man mean?" demanded plotinus, turning to porphyry. "get them away," whispered the disciple, "and i will tell thee." plotinus hastily conceded the point raised with reference to the interesting pannychis, and the philosophers went off to effect their exchange of quarters. as soon as the room was clear, he repeated: "what _does_ the man mean?" "i suppose he is thinking of leaena," said porphyry. "the most notorious character in rome, who, finding her charms on the wane, has lately betaken herself to philosophy?" "the same." "what of her?" "she has followed thee here. she affects the greatest devotion to thee. she vows that nothing shall make her budge until thou hast recovered from thy ecstasy, and admitted her as thy disciple. she has rejected numerous overtures from the philosopher theocles; entirely for thy sake, she affirms. she comes three times a day to inquire respecting thy condition, and i fear it must be acknowledged that she has once or twice managed to get into thy chamber." "o ye immortal gods!" groaned plotinus. "here she is!" exclaimed porphyry, as a woman of masculine stature and bearing, with the remains of beauty not unskilfully patched, forced an entrance into the room. "plotinus," she exclaimed, "behold the most impassioned of thy disciples. let us celebrate the mystic nuptials of wisdom and beauty. let the claims of my sex to philosophic distinction be vindicated in my person." "the question of the admission of women to share the studies and society of men," rejoined plotinus, "is one by no means exempt from difficulty." "how so? i deemed it had been determined long ago in favour of aspasia?" "aspasia," said plotinus, "was a very exceptional woman." "and am not i?" "i hope, that is, i conceive so," said plotinus. "but one may be an exceptional woman without being an aspasia." "how so? am i inferior to aspasia in beauty?" "i should hope not," said plotinus ambiguously. "or in the irregularity of my deportment?" "i should think not," said plotinus, with more confidence. "then why does the plato of our age hesitate to welcome his diotima?" "because," said plotinus, "you are not diotima, and i am not plato." "i am sure i am as much like diotima as you are like plato," retorted the lady. "but let us come to our own time. do i not hear that that creature pannychis has obtained the freedom of the philosophers' city, and the right to study therein?" "she takes private lessons from hermon, who is responsible for her." "the very thing!" exclaimed leaena triumphantly. "i take private lessons from thee, and thou art responsible for me. venus! what's that?" the exclamation was prompted by the sudden appearance of an enormous serpent, which, emerging from a chink in the wall, glided swiftly towards the couch of plotinus. he reached forward to greet it, uttering a cry of pleasure. "my guardian, my tutelary dæmon," he exclaimed, "visible manifestation of Ã�sculapius! then i am not forsaken by the immortal gods." "take away the monster," cried leaena, in violent agitation, "the nasty thing! plotinus, how can you? oh, i shall faint! i shall die! take it away, i say. you must choose between it and me." "then, madam," said plotinus, civilly but firmly, "i choose _it_." "thank Ã�sculapius we are rid of her," he added, as leaena vanished from the apartment. "i wish i knew that," said porphyry. and indeed after no long time a note came up from theocles, who was sure that plotinus would not refuse him that privilege of instructing a female disciple which had been already, with such manifest advantage to philosophical research, accorded to his colleague hermon. no objection could well be made, especially as plotinus did not foresee how many chambermaids, and pages, and cooks, and perfumers, and tiring women and bath attendants would be required, ere leaena could feel herself moderately comfortable. how unlike the modest pannychis! who wanted but half a bed, which need not be stuffed with the down of hares or the feathers of partridges, without which sleep refused to visit leaena's eyelids. it was natural that plotinus should appeal to gallienus, now returned from the gallic expedition, but he could extract nothing save mysterious intimations that the emperor had his eye upon the philosophers, and that they might find him among them when they least expected it. plotinus's spirits drooped, and porphyry was almost glad when he again relapsed into an ecstasy. iii when plotinus's eyes were at length opened, they fell not this time upon the faithful porphyry, but upon two youthful followers of plato who were beguiling the tedium of their vigil at his bedside by a game of dice, which prevented their observing his resuscitation. after a moment's hesitation plotinus resolved to lie quiet in the hopes of hearing something that might indicate what influences were in the ascendant in the philosophical republic. he had not long to wait. "dice is dull work for long," said one of the young men, indolently throwing himself back, and letting his caster fall upon the floor. "to think how much better one might be employed, but for having to watch this old fool here! i've a great mind to call up a slave." "all the slaves are sure to have gone to the show, unless any of them should be christians. besides, porphyry would hear you, he's only in a cat's sleep," returned his companion. "well, i mean to say it's a shame. all the town will be in the theatre by this time." "how many gladiators, said you?" "forty pairs, the best show campania has seen time out of mind." "how has it all come about?" "oh, news comes of the death of postumus, killed by his own soldiers, and this passes as a great victory for want of a better, 'we must have a day of thanksgiving,' says theocles. 'right,' says leaena, 'i am dying to see an exhibition of gladiators.' theocles demurs at first, expecting to have to find the money--but leaena tugs at his beard, and he gives in. just at the nick of time the right sort of fellow pops up nobody knows whence, a lanista with hair like curling helichryse, as theocritus has it, and a small army of gladiators, whom, out of devotion to the emperor, he offers to exhibit for nothing. who so pleased as theocles now? he takes the chair as archon with leaena by his side, and off goes every soul in the place, except pannychis, who cannot bear the sight of blood, and porphyry, who is an outrageous humanitarian, and us poor devils left in charge of this old dreamer." "couldn't we leave him to mind himself? he isn't likely to awake yet." "try him with your cloak-pin." the student detached the implement in question, which was about the size of a small stiletto. feeling uncertain what part of his person was to be the subject of experiment, plotinus judged it advisable to manifest his recovery in an unmistakable fashion. "o dear master, what joy!" cried both the students in a breath. "porphyry! porphyry!" the trusty scholar appeared immediately, and under pretence of fetching food, the two neophytes eloped to the amphitheatre. "what means all this, porphyry?" demanded plotinus sternly. "the city of philosophers polluted by human blood! the lovers of wisdom mingling with the dregs of the rabble!" porphyry's account, which plotinus could only extract by consenting to eat while his disciple talked, corresponded in all essential particulars with that of the two young men. "and i see not," added he, "what we can do in the matter. this abomination is supposed to be in honour of the emperor's victories. if we interfere with it we shall be executed as rebels, supposing that we are not first torn to pieces as rioters." "porphyry," replied plotinus, "i should esteem this disgrace to philosophy a disgrace to myself if i did not my utmost to avert it. remain thou here, and perform my funeral rites if it be necessary." but to this porphyry would by no means consent, and the two philosophers proceeded to the amphitheatre together. it was so crowded that there was no room on the seats for another person. theocles was enthroned in the chair of honour, his beard manifesting evident traces of the depilatories administered by leaena, who nevertheless sat by his side, her voluptuous face gloating over the anticipated banquet of agony. the philosophic part of the spectators were ranged all around, the remaining seats were occupied by a miscellaneous public. the master of the gladiators, a man of distinguished appearance, whose yellow locks gave him the aspect of a barbarian prince, stood in the arena surrounded by his myrmidons. the entry of plotinus and porphyry attracted his attention: he motioned to his followers, and in an instant the philosophers were seized, bound, and gagged without the excited assembly being in the least conscious of their presence. two men stepped out into the arena, both fine and attractive figures. the athletic limbs, the fair complexion, the curling yellow hair of one proclaimed the goth; he lightly swung his huge sword in his right hand, and looked as if his sole arm would easily put to flight the crowd of effeminate spectators. the other's beauty was of another sort; young, slender, pensive, spiritual, he looked like anything rather than a gladiator, and held his downward pointed sword with a negligent grasp. "guard thyself!" cried the goth, placing himself in an attitude of offence. "i spill not the blood of a fellow-creature," answered the other, casting his sword away from him. "coward!" yelled well-nigh every voice in the amphitheatre. "no," answered the youth with a grave smile, "christian." his shield and helmet followed his sword, he stood entirely defenceless before his adversary. "throw him to my lion," cried theocles. "or thy lioness," suggested hermon. this allusion to leaena provoked a burst of laughter. suddenly the goth aimed a mighty blow at the head of the unresisting man. a shorn curl fell to the ground, the consummate skill of the swordsman averted all further contact between his blade and the christian, who remained erect and smiling, without having moved a muscle or an eyelash. "master," said the goth, addressing the lanista, "i had rather fight ten armed men than this unarmed one." "good," returned his lord, with a gesture of approval. "retire both of you." a roar of disapprobation broke out from the spectators, which seemed not to produce the slightest effect on the lanista. "turn out the next pair," they cried. "i shall not," said he. "wherefore?" "because i do not choose." "rogue! cheat! swindler! cast him into prison! throw him to the lion!" such epithets and recommendations rained from the spectators' seats, accompanied by a pelting of more substantial missiles. in an instant the yellow hair and common dress lay on the ground, and those who knew him not by the features could by the imperial ornaments recognise the emperor gallienus. with no less celerity his followers, the goth and the christian excepted, disencumbered themselves of their exterior vesture, and stood forward in the character of roman soldiers. "friends," cried gallienus, turning to the plebeian multitude, "i am not about to balk you of your sport." at a sign from him the legionaries ascended to the seats allotted to the philosophic portion of the audience, and a torrent of wisdom in their persons, including that of leaena, flung forth with the energy of a catapult, descended abruptly and violently to the earth. they were instantly seized and dragged into an erect attitude by the remainder of the soldiery, who, amid the most tempestuous peals of laughter and applause from the delighted public, thrust swords into their hands, ranged them in opposite ranks, and summoned them to begin the fight and quit themselves like men. it was equally ludicrous and pitiable to see the bald, mostly grey-bearded men, their garments torn in their expulsion and their persons bruised by the fall, confronting each other with quaking limbs, helplessly brandishing their weapons or feebly calling their adversaries to come on, while the soldiers prodded them from behind with spears, and urged them into the close quarters they so anxiously desired to avoid. plotinus, helpless with his bonds and gag, looked on in impotent horror. gallienus was often cruel, but could he intend such a revolting massacre? there must be something behind. the honour of developing the emperor's purpose was reserved for theocles, who, with admirable presence of mind, had ever since he found he must fight been engaged in trying to select the weakest antagonist. after hesitating between the unwieldy chief of the peripatetics and the feminine leaena he fixed on the latter, partly moved, perhaps, by the hope of avenging his beard. with a martial cry he sprang towards her, and upraised his weapon for a swashing blow. but he had sadly miscalculated. leaena was hardly less versed in the combats of mars than in those of venus, having, in fact, commenced her distinguished career as a camp-follower of the emperor gordian. a tremendous stroke caught him on the hand; his blade dropped to the earth; why did not the fingers follow? leaena elucidated the problem by a still more violent blow on his face; torrents of blood gushed forth indeed, but only from the nose. the sword doubled up; it had neither point nor edge. encouraged by this opportune discovery the philosophers attacked each other with infinite spirit and valour. infuriated by the blows given and received, by the pokings and proddings of the military, and the hilarious derision of the public, they cast away the shivered blades and resorted to the weapons of nature. they kicked, they cuffed, they scratched, they tore the garments from each other's shoulders, they foamed and rolled gasping in the yellow sand of the arena. at a signal from the emperor the portal of the amphitheatre was thrown open, and the whole mass of clawing and cuffing philosophy was bundled ignominiously into the street. by this time gallienus was seated on his tribunal, and plotinus, released from his bonds, was standing by his side. "o emperor," he murmured, deeply abashed, "what can i urge? thou wilt surely demolish my city!" "no, plotinus," replied gallienus, pointing to the goth and the christian, "there are the men who will destroy the city of philosophers. would that were all they will destroy!" the demon pope "so you won't sell me your soul?" said the devil. "thank you," replied the student, "i had rather keep it myself, if it's all the same to you." "but it's not all the same to me. i want it very particularly. come, i'll be liberal. i said twenty years. you can have thirty." the student shook his head. "forty!" another shake. "fifty!" as before. "now," said the devil, "i know i'm going to do a foolish thing, but i cannot bear to see a clever, spirited young man throw himself away. i'll make you another kind of offer. we won't have any bargain at present, but i will push you on in the world for the next forty years. this day forty years i come back and ask you for a boon; not your soul, mind, or anything not perfectly in your power to grant. if you give it, we are quits; if not, i fly away with you. what say you to this?" the student reflected for some minutes. "agreed," he said at last. scarcely had the devil disappeared, which he did instantaneously, ere a messenger reined in his smoking steed at the gate of the university of cordova (the judicious reader will already have remarked that lucifer could never have been allowed inside a christian seat of learning), and, inquiring for the student gerbert, presented him with the emperor otho's nomination to the abbacy of bobbio, in consideration, said the document, of his virtue and learning, well-nigh miraculous in one so young. such messengers were frequent visitors during gerbert's prosperous career. abbot, bishop, archbishop, cardinal, he was ultimately enthroned pope on april , , and assumed the appellation of silvester the second. it was then a general belief that the world would come to an end in the following year, a catastrophe which to many seemed the more imminent from the election of a chief pastor whose celebrity as a theologian, though not inconsiderable, by no means equalled his reputation as a necromancer. the world, notwithstanding, revolved scatheless through the dreaded twelvemonth, and early in the first year of the eleventh century gerbert was sitting peacefully in his study, perusing a book of magic. volumes of algebra, astrology, alchemy, aristotelian philosophy, and other such light reading filled his bookcase; and on a table stood an improved clock of his invention, next to his introduction of the arabic numerals his chief legacy to posterity. suddenly a sound of wings was heard, and lucifer stood by his side. "it is a long time," said the fiend, "since i have had the pleasure of seeing you. i have now called to remind you of our little contract, concluded this day forty years." "you remember," said silvester, "that you are not to ask anything exceeding my power to perform." "i have no such intention," said lucifer. "on the contrary, i am about to solicit a favour which can be bestowed by you alone. you are pope, i desire that you would make me a cardinal. "in the expectation, i presume," returned gerbert, "of becoming pope on the next vacancy." "an expectation," replied lucifer, "which i may most reasonably entertain, considering my enormous wealth, my proficiency in intrigue, and the present condition of the sacred college." "you would doubtless," said gerbert, "endeavour to subvert the foundations of the faith, and, by a course of profligacy and licentiousness, render the holy see odious and contemptible." "on the contrary," said the fiend, "i would extirpate heresy, and all learning and knowledge as inevitably tending thereunto. i would suffer no man to read but the priest, and confine his reading to his breviary. i would burn your books together with your bones on the first convenient opportunity. i would observe an austere propriety of conduct, and be especially careful not to loosen one rivet in the tremendous yoke i was forging for the minds and consciences of mankind." "if it be so," said gerbert, "let's be off!" "what!" exclaimed lucifer, "you are willing to accompany me to the infernal regions!" "assuredly, rather than be accessory to the burning of plato and aristotle, and give place to the darkness against which i have been contending all my life." "gerbert," replied the demon, "this is arrant trifling. know you not that no good man can enter my dominions? that, were such a thing possible, my empire would become intolerable to me, and i should be compelled to abdicate?" "i do know it," said gerbert, "and hence i have been able to receive your visit with composure." "gerbert," said the devil, with tears in his eyes, "i put it to you--is this fair, is this honest? i undertake to promote your interests in the world; i fulfil my promise abundantly. you obtain through my instrumentality a position to which you could never otherwise have aspired. often have i had a hand in the election of a pope, but never before have i contributed to confer the tiara on one eminent for virtue and learning. you profit by my assistance to the full, and now take advantage of an adventitious circumstance to deprive me of my reasonable guerdon. it is my constant experience that the good people are much more slippery than the sinners, and drive much harder bargains." "lucifer," answered gerbert, "i have always sought to treat you as a gentleman, hoping that you would approve yourself such in return. i will not inquire whether it was entirely in harmony with this character to seek to intimidate me into compliance with your demand by threatening me with a penalty which you well knew could not be enforced. i will overlook this little irregularity, and concede even more than you have requested. you have asked to be a cardinal. i will make you pope--" "ha!" exclaimed lucifer, and an internal glow suffused his sooty hide, as the light of a fading ember is revived by breathing upon it. "for twelve hours," continued gerbert. "at the expiration of that time we will consider the matter further; and if, as i anticipate, you are more anxious to divest yourself of the papal dignity than you were to assume it, i promise to bestow upon you any boon you may ask within my power to grant, and not plainly inconsistent with religion or morals." "done!" cried the demon. gerbert uttered some cabalistic words, and in a moment the apartment held two pope silvesters, entirely indistinguishable save by their attire, and the fact that one limped slightly with the left foot. "you will find the pontifical apparel in this cupboard," said gerbert, and, taking his book of magic with him, he retreated through a masked door to a secret chamber. as the door closed behind him he chuckled, and muttered to himself, "poor old lucifer! sold again!" if lucifer was sold he did not seem to know it. he approached a large slab of silver which did duty as a mirror, and contemplated his personal appearance with some dissatisfaction. "i certainly don't look half so well without my horns," he soliloquised, "and i am sure i shall miss my tail most grievously." a tiara and a train, however, made fair amends for the deficient appendages, and lucifer now looked every inch a pope. he was about to call the master of the ceremonies, and summon a consistory, when the door was burst open, and seven cardinals, brandishing poniards, rushed into the room. "down with the sorcerer!" they cried, as they seized and gagged him. "death to the saracen!" "practises algebra, and other devilish arts!" "knows greek!" "talks arabic!" "reads hebrew!" "burn him!" "smother him!" "let him be deposed by a general council," said a young and inexperienced cardinal. "heaven forbid!" said an old and wary one, _sotto voce_. lucifer struggled frantically, but the feeble frame he was doomed to inhabit for the next eleven hours was speedily exhausted. bound and helpless, he swooned away. "brethren," said one of the senior cardinals, "it hath been delivered by the exorcists that a sorcerer or other individual in league with the demon doth usually bear upon his person some visible token of his infernal compact. i propose that we forthwith institute a search for this stigma, the discovery of which may contribute to justify our proceedings in the eyes of the world." "i heartily approve of our brother anno's proposition," said another, "the rather as we cannot possibly fail to discover such a mark, if, indeed, we desire to find it." the search was accordingly instituted, and had not proceeded far ere a simultaneous yell from all the seven cardinals indicated that their investigation had brought more to light than they had ventured to expect. the holy father had a cloven foot! for the next five minutes the cardinals remained utterly stunned, silent, and stupefied with amazement. as they gradually recovered their faculties it would have become manifest to a nice observer that the pope had risen very considerably in their good opinion. "this is an affair requiring very mature deliberation," said one. "i always feared that we might be proceeding too precipitately," said another. "it is written, 'the devils believe,'" said a third: "the holy father, therefore, is not a heretic at any rate." "brethren," said anno, "this affair, as our brother benno well remarks, doth indeed call for mature deliberation. i therefore propose that, instead of smothering his holiness with cushions, as originally contemplated, we immure him for the present in the dungeon adjoining hereunto, and, after spending the night in meditation and prayer, resume the consideration of the business tomorrow morning." "informing the officials of the palace," said benno, "that his holiness has retired for his devotions, and desires on no account to be disturbed." "a pious fraud," said anno, "which not one of the fathers would for a moment have scrupled to commit." the cardinals accordingly lifted the still insensible lucifer, and bore him carefully, almost tenderly, to the apartment appointed for his detention. each would fain have lingered in hopes of his recovery, but each felt that the eyes of his six brethren were upon him: and all, therefore, retired simultaneously, each taking a key of the cell. lucifer regained consciousness almost immediately afterwards. he had the most confused idea of the circumstances which had involved him in his present scrape, and could only say to himself that if they were the usual concomitants of the papal dignity, these were by no means to his taste, and he wished he had been made acquainted with them sooner. the dungeon was not only perfectly dark, but horribly cold, and the poor devil in his present form had no latent store of infernal heat to draw upon. his teeth chattered, he shivered in every limb, and felt devoured with hunger and thirst. there is much probability in the assertion of some of his biographers that it was on this occasion that he invented ardent spirits; but, even if he did, the mere conception of a glass of brandy could only increase his sufferings. so the long january night wore wearily on, and lucifer seemed likely to expire from inanition, when a key turned in the lock, and cardinal anno cautiously glided in, bearing a lamp, a loaf, half a cold roast kid, and a bottle of wine. "i trust," he said, bowing courteously, "that i may be excused any slight breach of etiquette of which i may render myself culpable from the difficulty under which i labour of determining whether, under present circumstances, 'your holiness,' or 'your infernal majesty' be the form of address most befitting me to employ." "bub-ub-bub-boo," went lucifer, who still had the gag in his mouth. "heavens!" exclaimed the cardinal, "i crave your infernal holiness's forgiveness. what a lamentable oversight!" and, relieving lucifer from his gag and bonds, he set out the refection, upon which the demon fell voraciously. "why the devil, if i may so express myself," pursued anno, "did not your holiness inform us that you _were_ the devil? not a hand would then have been raised against you. i have myself been seeking all my life for the audience now happily vouchsafed me. whence this mistrust of your faithful anno, who has served you so loyally and zealously these many years?" lucifer pointed significantly to the gag and fetters. "i shall never forgive myself," protested the cardinal, "for the part i have borne in this unfortunate transaction. next to ministering to your majesty's bodily necessities, there is nothing i have so much at heart as to express my penitence. but i entreat your majesty to remember that i believed myself to be acting in your majesty's interest by overthrowing a magician who was accustomed to send your majesty upon errands, and who might at any time enclose you in a box, and cast you into the sea. it is deplorable that your majesty's most devoted servants should have been thus misled." "reasons of state," suggested lucifer. "i trust that they no longer operate," said the cardinal. "however, the sacred college is now fully possessed of the whole matter: it is therefore unnecessary to pursue this department of the subject further. i would now humbly crave leave to confer with your majesty, or rather, perhaps, your holiness, since i am about to speak of spiritual things, on the important and delicate point of your holiness's successor. i am ignorant how long your holiness proposes to occupy the apostolic chair; but of course you are aware that public opinion will not suffer you to hold it for a term exceeding that of the pontificate of peter. a vacancy, therefore, must one day occur; and i am humbly to represent that the office could not be filled by one more congenial than myself to the present incumbent, or on whom he could more fully rely to carry out in every respect his views and intentions." and the cardinal proceeded to detail various circumstances of his past life, which certainly seemed to corroborate his assertion. he had not, however, proceeded far ere he was disturbed by the grating of another key in the lock, and had just time to whisper impressively, "beware of benno," ere he dived under a table. benno was also provided with a lamp, wine, and cold viands. warned by the other lamp and the remains of lucifer's repast that some colleague had been beforehand with him, and not knowing how many more might be in the field, he came briefly to the point as regarded the papacy, and preferred his claim in much the same manner as anno. while he was earnestly cautioning lucifer against this cardinal as one who could and would cheat the very devil himself, another key turned in the lock, and benno escaped under the table, where anno immediately inserted his finger into his right eye. the little squeal consequent upon this occurrence lucifer successfully smothered by a fit of coughing. cardinal no. , a frenchman, bore a bayonne ham, and exhibited the same disgust as benno on seeing himself forestalled. so far as his requests transpired they were moderate, but no one knows where he would have stopped if he had not been scared by the advent of cardinal no. . up to this time he had only asked for an inexhaustible purse, power to call up the devil _ad libitum_, and a ring of invisibility to allow him free access to his mistress, who was unfortunately a married woman. cardinal no. chiefly wanted to be put into the way of poisoning cardinal no. ; and cardinal no. preferred the same petition as respected cardinal no. . cardinal no. , an englishman, demanded the reversion of the archbishoprics of canterbury and york, with the faculty of holding them together, and of unlimited non-residence. in the course of his harangue he made use of the phrase _non obstantibus_, of which lucifer immediately took a note. what the seventh cardinal would have solicited is not known, for he had hardly opened his mouth when the twelfth hour expired, and lucifer, regaining his vigour with his shape, sent the prince of the church spinning to the other end of the room, and split the marble table with a single stroke of his tail. the six crouched and huddling cardinals cowered revealed to one another, and at the same time enjoyed the spectacle of his holiness darting through the stone ceiling, which yielded like a film to his passage, and closed up afterwards as if nothing had happened. after the first shock of dismay they unanimously rushed to the door, but found it bolted on the outside. there was no other exit, and no means of giving an alarm. in this emergency the demeanour of the italian cardinals set a bright example to their ultramontane colleagues. "_bisogna pazienzia_," they said, as they shrugged their shoulders. nothing could exceed the mutual politeness of cardinals anno and benno, unless that of the two who had sought to poison each other. the frenchman was held to have gravely derogated from good manners by alluding to this circumstance, which had reached his ears while he was under the table: and the englishman swore so outrageously at the plight in which he found himself that the italians then and there silently registered a vow that none of his nation should ever be pope, a maxim which, with one exception, has been observed to this day. lucifer, meanwhile, had repaired to silvester, whom he found arrayed in all the insignia of his dignity; of which, as he remarked, he thought his visitor had probably had enough. "i should think so indeed," replied lucifer. "but at the same time i feel myself fully repaid for all i have undergone by the assurance of the loyalty of my friends and admirers, and the conviction that it is needless for me to devote any considerable amount of personal attention to ecclesiastical affairs. i now claim the promised boon, which it will be in no way inconsistent with thy functions to grant, seeing that it is a work of mercy. i demand that the cardinals be released, and that their conspiracy against thee, by which i alone suffered, be buried in oblivion." "i hoped you would carry them all off," said gerbert, with an expression of disappointment. "thank you," said the devil. "it is more to my interest to leave them where they are." so the dungeon-door was unbolted, and the cardinals came forth, sheepish and crestfallen. if, after all, they did less mischief than lucifer had expected from them, the cause was their entire bewilderment by what had passed, and their utter inability to penetrate the policy of gerbert, who henceforth devoted himself even with ostentation to good works. they could never quite satisfy themselves whether they were speaking to the pope or to the devil, and when under the latter impression habitually emitted propositions which gerbert justly stigmatised as rash, temerarious, and scandalous. they plagued him with allusions to certain matters mentioned in their interviews with lucifer, with which they naturally but erroneously supposed him to be conversant, and worried him by continual nods and titterings as they glanced at his nether extremities. to abolish this nuisance, and at the same time silence sundry unpleasant rumours which had somehow got abroad, gerbert devised the ceremony of kissing the pope's feet, which, in a grievously mutilated form, endures to this day. the stupefaction of the cardinals on discovering that the holy father had lost his hoof surpasses all description, and they went to their graves without having obtained the least insight into the mystery. the cupbearer the minister photinius had fallen, to the joy of constantinople. he had taken sanctuary in the immense monastery adjoining the golden gate in the twelfth region of the city, founded for a thousand monks by the patrician studius, in the year . there he occupied himself with the concoction of poisons, the resource of fallen statesmen. when a defeated minister of our own day is indisposed to accept his discomfiture, he applies himself to poison the public mind, inciting the lower orders against the higher, and blowing up every smouldering ember of sedition he can discover, trusting that the conflagration thus kindled, though it consume the edifice of the state, will not fail to roast his own egg. photinius's conceptions of mischief were less refined; he perfected his toxicological knowledge in the medical laboratory of the monastery, and sought eagerly for an opportunity of employing it; whether in an experiment upon the emperor, or on his own successor, or on some other personage, circumstances must determine. the sanctity of studius's convent, and the strength of its monastic garrison, rendered it a safe refuge for disgraced courtiers, and in this thirtieth year of the emperor basil the second (reckoning from his nominal accession) it harboured a legion of ex-prime ministers, patriarchs, archbishops, chief secretaries, hypati, anthypati, silentiarii, protospatharii, and even spatharo-candidati. and this small army was nothing to the host that, maimed or blinded or tonsured or all three, dragged out their lives in monasteries or in dungeons or on rocky islets; and these again were few in comparison with the spirits of the traitors or the betrayed who wailed nightly amid the planes and cypresses of the aretae, or stalked through the palatial apartments of verdantique and porphyry. but of those comparatively at liberty, but whose liberty was circumscribed by the hallowed precincts of studius, every soul was plotting. and never, perhaps, in the corrupt byzantine court, where true friendship had been unknown since theodora quarrelled with antonia, had so near an approach to it existed as in this asylum of villains. a sort of freemasonry came to prevail in the sanctuary: every one longed to know how his neighbour's plot throve, and grudged not to buy the knowledge by disclosing a little corner of his own. thus rendered communicative, their colloquies would travel back into the past, and as the veterans of intrigue fought their battles over again, the most experienced would learn things that made them open their eyes with amazement. "ah!" they would hear, "that is just where you were mistaken. you had bought eromenus, but so had i, and old nicephorus had outbid us both." "you deemed the dancer anthusa a sure card, and knew not of her secret infirmity, of which i had been apprised by her waiting woman." "did you really know nothing of that sliding panel? and were you ignorant that whatever one says in the blue chamber is heard in the green?" "yes, i thought so too, and i spent a mint of money before finding out that the dog whose slaver that brazen impostor panurgiades pretended to sell me was no more mad than he was." after such rehearsals of future dialogues by the banks of styx, the fallen statesmen were observed to appear exceedingly dejected, but the stimulus had become necessary to their existence. none gossiped so freely or disclosed so much as photinius and his predecessor eustathius, whom he had himself displaced--probably because eustathius, believing in nothing in heaven or earth but gold, and labouring under an absolute privation of that metal, was regarded even by himself as an extinct volcano. "well," observed he one day, when discoursing with photinius is an unusually confidential mood, "i am free to say that for my own part i don't think over much of poison. it has its advantages, to be sure, but to my mind the disadvantages are even more conspicuous." "for example?" inquired photinius, who had the best reason for confiding in the efficacy of a drag administered with dexterity and discretion. "two people must be in the secret at least, if not three," replied eustathius, "and cooks, as a rule, are a class of persons entirely unfit to be employed in affairs of state." "the court physician," suggested photinius. "is only available," answered eustathius, "in case his majesty should send for him, which is most improbable. if he ever did, poison, praised be the lord! would be totally unnecessary and entirely superfluous." "my dear friend," said photinius, venturing at this favourable moment on a question he had been dying to ask ever since he had been an inmate of the convent, "would you mind telling me in confidence, did you ever administer any potion of a deleterious nature to his sacred majesty?" "never!" protested eustathius, with fervour. "i tried once, to be sure, but it was no use." "what was the impediment?" "the perverse opposition of the cupbearer. it is idle attempting anything of the kind as long as she is about the emperor." "_she_!" exclaimed photinius. "don't you know _that_?" responded eustathius, with an air and manner that plainly said, "you don't know much." humbled and ashamed, photinius nevertheless wisely stooped to avow his nescience, and flattering his rival on his superior penetration, led him to divulge the state secret that the handsome cupbearer helladius was but the disguise of the lovely helladia, the object of basil's tenderest affection, and whose romantic attachment to his person had already frustrated more conspiracies than the aged plotter could reckon up. this intelligence made photinius for a season exceedingly thoughtful. he had not deemed basil of an amorous complexion. at length he sent for his daughter, the beautiful and virtuous euprepia, who from time to time visited him in the monastery. "daughter," he said, "it appears to me that the time has now arrived when thou mayest with propriety present a petition to the emperor on behalf of thy unfortunate father. here is the document. it is, i flatter myself, composed with no ordinary address; nevertheless i will not conceal from thee that i place my hopes rather on thy beauty of person than on my beauty of style. shake down thy hair and dishevel it, so!--that is excellent. remember to tear thy robe some little in the poignancy of thy woe, and to lose a sandal. tears and sobs of course thou hast always at command, but let not the frenzy of thy grief render thee wholly inarticulate. here is a slight memorandum of what is most fitting for thee to say: thy old nurse's instructions will do the rest. light a candle for st. sergius, and watch for a favourable opportunity." euprepia was upright, candid, and loyal; but the best of women has something of the actress in her nature; and her histrionic talent was stimulated by her filial affection. basil was for a moment fairly carried away by the consummate fact of her performance and the genuine feeling to her appeal; but he was himself again by the time he had finished perusing his late minister's long-winded and mendacious memorial. "what manner of woman was thy mother?" he inquired kindly euprepia was eloquent in praise of her deceased parent's perfections of mind and person. "then i can believe thee photinius's daughter, which i might otherwise have doubted," returned basil. "as concerns him, i can only say, if he feels himself innocent, let him come out of sanctuary, and stand his trial. but i will give thee a place at court." this was about all that photinius hoped to obtain, and he joyfully consented to his daughter's entering the imperial court, exulting at having got in the thin end of the wedge. she was attached to the person of the emperor's sister-in-law, the "slayer of the bulgarians" himself being a most determined bachelor. time wore on. euprepia's opportunities of visiting her father were less frequent than formerly. at last she came, looking thoroughly miserable, distracted, and forlorn. "what ails thee, child?" he inquired anxiously. "oh, father, in what a frightful position do i find myself!" "speak," he said, "and rely on my counsel." "when i entered the court," she proceeded, "i found at first but one human creature i could love or trust, and he--let me so call him--seemed to make up for the deficiencies of all the rest. it was the cupbearer helladius." "i hope he is still thy friend," interrupted photinius. "the good graces of an imperial cupbearer are always important, and i would have bought those of helladius with a myriad of bezants." "they were not to be thus obtained, father," said she. "the purest disinterestedness, the noblest integrity, the most unselfish devotion, were the distinction of my friend. and such beauty! i cannot, i must not conceal that my heart was soon entirely his. but--most strange it seemed to me then--it was long impossible for me to tell whether helladius loved me or loved me not. the most perfect sympathy existed between us: we seemed one heart and one soul: and yet, and yet, helladius never gave the slightest indication of the sentiments which a young man might be supposed to entertain for a young girl. vainly did i try every innocent wile that a modest maiden may permit herself: he was ever the friend, never the lover. at length, after long pining between despairing fondness and wounded pride, i myself turned away, and listened to one who left me in no doubt of the sincerity of his passion." "who?" "the emperor! and, to shorten the story of my shame, i became his mistress." "the saints be praised!" shouted photinius. "o my incomparable daughter!" "father!" cried euprepia, blushing and indignant. "but let me hurry on with my wretched tale. in proportion as the emperor's affection became more marked, helladius, hitherto so buoyant and serene, became a visible prey to despondency. some scornful beauty, i deemed, was inflicting on him the tortures he had previously inflicted upon me, and, cured of my unhappy attachment, and entirely devoted to my imperial lover, i did all in my power to encourage him. he received my comfort with gratitude, nor did it, as i had feared might happen, seem to excite the least lover-like feeling towards me on his own part." "euprepia," he said only two days ago, "never in this court have i met one like thee. thou art the soul of honour and generosity. i can safely trust thee with a secret which my bursting heart can no longer retain, but which i dread to breathe even to myself. know first i am not what i seem, i am a woman!" and opening his vest--" "we know all about that already," interrupted photinius. "get on!" "if thou knowest this already, father," said the astonished euprepia, "thou wilt spare me the pain of entering further into helladia's affection for basil. suffice that it was impassioned beyond description, and vied with whatever history or romance records. in her male costume she had accompanied the conqueror of the bulgarians in his campaigns, she had fought in his battles; a gigantic foe, in act to strike him from behind, had fallen by her arrow; she had warded the poison-cup from his lips, and the assassin's dagger from his heart; she had rejected enormous wealth offered as a bribe for treachery, and lived only for the emperor. 'and now,' she cried, 'his love for me is cold, and he deserts me for another. who she is i cannot find, else on her it were, not on him, that my vengeance should alight. oh, euprepia, i would tear her eyes from her head, were they beautiful as thine! but vengeance i must have. basil must die. on the third day he expires by my hand, poisoned by the cup which i alone am trusted to offer him at the imperial banquet where thou wilt be present. thou shalt see his agonies and my triumph, and rejoice that thy friend has known how to avenge herself.' "thou seest now, father, in how frightful a difficulty i am placed. all my entreaties and remonstrances have been in vain: at my threats helladia merely laughs. i love basil with my whole heart. shall i look on and see him murdered? shall i, having first unwittingly done my friend the most grievous injury, proceed further to betray her, and doom her to a cruel death? i might anticipate her fell purpose by slaying her, but for that i have neither strength nor courage. many a time have i felt on the point of revealing everything to her, and offering myself as her victim, but for this also i lack fortitude. i might convey a warning to basil, but helladia's vengeance is unsleeping, and nothing but her death or mine will screen him. oh, father, father! what am i to do?" "nothing romantic or sentimental, i trust, dear child," replied photinius. "torture me not, father. i came to thee for counsel." "and counsel shalt thou have, but it must be the issue of mature deliberation. thou mayest observe," continued he with the air of a good man contending with adversity, "how weak and miserable is man's estate even in the day of good fortune, how hard it is for purblind mortals to discern the right path, especially when two alluring routes are simultaneously presented for their decision! the most obvious and natural course, the one i should have adopted without hesitation half-an-hour ago, would be simply to let helladia alone. should she succeed--and heaven forbid else!--the knot is loosed in the simplest manner. basil dies--" "father!" "i am a favourite with his sister-in-law," continued photinius, entirely unconscious of his daughter's horror and agitation, "who will govern in the name of her weak husband, and is moreover thy mistress. she recalls me to court, and all is peace and joy. but then, helladia may fail. in that case, when she has been executed--" "father, father!" "we are exactly where we were, save for the hold thou hast established over the emperor, which is of course invaluable. i cannot but feel that heaven is good when i reflect how easily thou mightest have thrown thyself away upon a courtier. now there is a much bolder game to play, which, relying on the protection of providence, i feel half disposed to attempt. thou mightest betray helladia." "deliver my friend to the tormentors!" "then," pursued photinius, without hearing her, "thy claim on the emperor's gratitude is boundless, and if he has any sense of what is seemly--and he is what they call chivalrous--he will make thee his lawful consort. i father-in-law of an emperor! my brain reels to think of it. i must be cool. i must not suffer myself to be dazzled or hurried away. let me consider. thus acting, thou puttest all to the hazard of the die. for if helladia should deny everything, as of course she would, and the emperor should foolishly scruple to put her to the rack, she might probably persuade him of her innocence, and where wouldst thou be then? it might almost be better to be beforehand, and poison helladia herself, but i fear there is no time now. thou hast no evidence but her threats, i suppose? thou hast not caught her tampering with poisons? there can of course be nothing in writing. i daresay i could find something, if i had but time. canst thou counterfeit her signature?" but long ere this euprepia, dissolved in tears, her bosom torn by convulsive sobs, had become as inattentive to her parent's discourse as he had been to her interjections. photinius at last remarked her distress: he was by no means a bad father. "poor child," he said, "thy nerves are unstrung, and no wonder. it is a terrible risk to run. even if thou saidest nothing, and helladia under the torture accused thee of having been privy to her design, it might have a bad effect on the emperor's mind. if he put thee to the torture too--but no! that's impossible. i feel faint and giddy, dear child, and unable to decide a point of such importance. come to me at daybreak to-morrow." but euprepia did not reappear, and photinius spent the day in an agony of expectation, fearing that she had compromised herself by some imprudence. he gazed on the setting sun with uncontrollable impatience, knowing that it would shine on the imperial banquet, where so much was to happen. basil was in fact at that very moment seating himself among a brilliant assemblage. by his side stood a choir of musicians, among them euprepia. soon the cup was called for, and helladia, in her masculine dress, stepped forward, darting a glance of sinister triumph at her friend. silently, almost imperceptibly to the bulk of the company, euprepia glided forward, and hissed rather than whispered in helladia's ear, ere she could retire from the emperor's side. "didst thou not say that if thou couldst discover her who had wronged thee, thou wouldst wreak thy vengeance on her, and molest basil no further?" "i did, and i meant it." "see that thou keepest thy word. i am she!" and snatching the cup from the table, she quaffed it to the last drop, and instantly expired in convulsions. we pass over the dismay of the banqueters, the arrest and confession of helladia, the general amazement at the revelation of her sex, the frantic grief of the emperor. basil's sorrow was sincere and durable. on an early occasion he thus addressed his courtiers: "i cannot determine which of these two women loved me best: she who gave her life for me, or she who would have taken mine. the first made the greater sacrifice; the second did most violence to her feelings. what say ye?" the courtiers hesitated, feeling themselves incompetent judges in problems of this nature. at length the youngest exclaimed: "o emperor, how can we tell thee, unless we know what thou thinkest thyself?" "what!" exclaimed basil, "an honest man in the court of byzantium! let his mouth be filled with gold immediately!" this operation having been performed, and the precious metal distributed in fees among the proper officers, basil thus addressed the object of his favour: "manuel, thy name shall henceforth be chrysostomus, in memory of what has just taken place. in further token of my approbation of thy honesty, i will confer upon thee the hand of the only other respectable person about the court, namely, of helladia. take her, my son, and raise up a race of heroes! she shall be amply dowered out of what remains of the property of photinius." "gennadius," whispered a cynical courtier to his neighbour, "i hope thou admirest the magnanimity of our sovereign, who deems he is performing a most generous action in presenting manuel with his cast-off mistress, who has tried to poison him, and with whom he has been at his wits' end what to do, and in dowering her at the expense of another." the snarl was just; but it is just also to acknowledge that basil, as a prince born in the purple, had not the least idea that he was laying himself open to any such criticism. he actually did feel the manly glow of self-approbation which accompanies the performance of a good action: an emotion which no one else present, except chrysostomus, was so much as able to conceive. it is further to be remarked that the old courtier who sneered at chrysostomus was devoured by envy of his good fortune, and would have given his right eye to have been in his place. "chrysostomus," pursued basil, "we must now think of the hapless photinius. that unfortunate father is doubtless in an agony of grief which renders the forfeiture of the remains of his possessions indifferent to him. thou, his successor therein, mayest be regarded as in some sort his son-in-law. go, therefore, and comfort him, and report to me upon his condition." chrysostomus accordingly proceeded to the monastery, where he was informed that photinius had retired with his spiritual adviser, and could on no account be disturbed. "it is on my head to see the emperor's orders obeyed," returned chrysostomus, and forced the door. the bereaved parent was busily engaged in sticking pins into a wax effigy of basil, under the direction of panurgiades, already honourably mentioned in this history. "wretched old man!" exclaimed chrysostomus, "is this thy grief for thy daughter?" "my grief is great," answered photinius, "but my time is small. if i turn not every moment to account, i shall never be prime minister again. but all is over now. thou wilt denounce me, of course. i will give thee a counsel. say that thou didst arrive just as we were about to place the effigy of basil before a slow fire, and melt it into a caldron of bubbling poison." "i shall report what i have seen," replied chrysostomus, "neither more nor less. but i think i can assure thee that none will suffer for this mummery except panurgiades, and that he will at most be whipped." "chrysostomus," said basil, on receiving the report, "lust of power, a fever in youth, is a leprosy in age. the hoary statesman out of place would sell his daughter, his country, his soul, to regain it: yea, he would part with his skin and his senses, were it possible to hold office without them. i commiserate photinius, whose faculties are clearly on the decline; the day has been when he would not have wasted his time sticking pins into a waxen figure. i will give him some shadow of authority to amuse his old days and keep him out of mischief. the abbot of catangion is just dead. photinius shall succeed him." so photinius received the tonsure and the dignity, and made a very tolerable abbot. it is even recorded to his honour that he bestowed a handsome funeral on his old enemy eustathius. helladia made chrysostomus an excellent wife, a little over-prudish, some thought. when, nearly two centuries afterwards, the courts of love came to be established in provence, the question at issue between her and euprepia was referred to those tribunals, which, finding the decision difficult, adjourned it for seven hundred years. that period having now expired, it is submitted to the british public. the wisdom of the indians everybody knows that in the reign of the emperor elagabalus rome was visited by an embassy from india; whose members, on their way from the east, had held that memorable interview with the illustrious (though heretical) christian philosopher bardesanes which enabled him to formulate his doctrine of fate, borrowed from the indian theory of karma, and therefore, until lately, grievously misunderstood by his commentators. it may not, however, be equally notorious that the ambassadors returned by sea as far as berytus, and upon landing there were hospitably entertained by the sage euphronius, the head of the philosophical faculty of that university. euphronius naturally inquired what circumstance in rome had appeared to his visitors most worthy of remark. "the extreme evil of the emperor's karma," said they. euphronius requested further explanation. "karma," explained their interpreter, "is that congeries of circumstances which has necessitated the birth of each individual, and of whose good or evil he is the incarnation. every act must needs be attended by consequences, and as these are usually of too far-reaching a character to be exhausted in the life of the doer of the action, they cannot but engender another person by whom they are to be borne. this truth is popularly expressed by the doctrine of transmigration, according to which individuals, as the character of their deeds may determine, are re-born as pigs or peacocks, beggars or princes. but this is a loose and unscientific way of speaking, for in fact it is not the individual that is re-born, but the character; which, even as the silkworm clothes itself with silk and the caddis-worm with mud and small shingle, creates for itself a new personality, congruous with its own nature. we are therefore led to reflect what a prodigious multitude of sins some one must have committed ere the roman world could be afflicted with such an emperor as elagabalus." "what have ye found so exceedingly reprehensible in the emperor's conduct?" demanded euphronius. "to speak only," said the indians, "of such of his doings as may fitly be recited to modest ears, we find him declaring war against nature, and delighting in nothing that is not the contrary of what heaven meant it to be. we see him bathing in perfumes, sailing ships in wine, feeding horses on grapes and lions on parrots, peppering fish with pearls, wearing gems on the soles of his feet, strewing his floor with gold-dust, paving the public streets with precious marbles, driving teams of stags, scorning to eat fish by the seaside, deploring his lot that he has never yet been able to dine on a phoenix. enormous must have been the folly and wickedness which has incarnated itself in such a sovereign, and should his reign be prolonged, discouraging is the prospect for the morals of the next generation. "according to you, then," said euphronius, "the fates of men are not spun for them by clotho, lachesis, and atropos, but by their predecessors?" "so it is," said they, "always remembering that man can rid himself of his karma by philosophic meditation, combined with religious austerities, and that if all walked in this path, existence with all its evils would come to an end. insomuch that the most bloodthirsty conqueror that ever devastated the earth hath not destroyed one thousandth part as many existences as the lord buddha." "these are abstruse matters," said euphronius, "and i lament that your stay in berytus will not be long enough to instruct me adequately therein." "accompany us to india," said they, "and thou shalt receive instruction at the fountain head." "i am old and feeble," apologised euphronius, "and adjusted by long habit to my present environment. nevertheless i will propound the enterprise to my pupils, only somewhat repressing their ardour, lest the volunteers should be inconveniently numerous." when, however, the proposition was made not a soul responded; though euphronius reproached his disciples severely, and desired them to compare their want of spirit with his own thirst for knowledge, which, when he was a young man, had taken him as far as alexandria to hear a celebrated rhetorician. in the evening, however, two disciples came to him together, and professed their readiness to undertake the expedition, if promised a reward commensurate with its danger and difficulty. "ye would learn the secret of my celebrated dilemma," said he, "which no sophist can elude? 'tis much; 'tis immoderate; 'tis enormous; nevertheless, bring the wisdom of india to berytus, and the knowledge of the stratagem shall be yours." "no, master," they said, "it is not thy dilemma of which we are enamoured. it is thy daughter." a vehement altercation ensued, but at length the old philosopher, who at the bottom of his heart was much readier to part with his daughter than his dilemma, was induced to promise her to whichever of the pupils should bring home the most satisfactory exposition of indian metaphysics: provided always that during their absence he should not have been compelled to bestow her hand as the price of a quibble even more subtle than his own: but this he believed to be impossible. mnesitheus and rufus accordingly travelled with the embassy to india, and arrived in safety at the metropolis of palimbothra. they had wisely devoted themselves meanwhile to learning the language, and were now able to converse with some fluency. on reaching their destination they were placed under the superintendence of competent instructors, who were commissioned to initiate them into the canon of buddhist scriptures, comprising, to mention only a few of the principal, the lalitavistara, the dhammapada, the kuddhapatha, the palinokkha, the uragavagga, the kulavagga, the mahavagga, the atthakavagga, and the upasampadakammavaca. these works, composed in dead languages, and written in strange and unknown characters, were further provided with commentaries more voluminous and inexplicable than the text. "heavens," exclaimed mnesitheus and rufus, "can the life of a man suffice to study all this?" "assuredly not," replied the indians. "the diligent student will resume his investigations in a subsequent stage of existence, and, if endowed with eminent faculties, may hope to attain the end he proposes to himself at the fifteenth transmigration." "the end we propose to ourselves," said the greeks, "is to marry our master's daughter. will the fair euphronia also have undergone fifteen transmigrations, and will her charms have continued unimpaired?" "it is difficult to pronounce," said they, "for should the maiden, through the exercise of virtue, have merited to be born as a white elephant, her transmigrations must in the order of nature be but few; whereas should she have unfortunately become and remained a rat, a frog, or other shortlived animal, they cannot but be exceedingly numerous." "the prospect of wedding a frog at the end of fifteen transmigrations," said the youths, "doth not in any respect commend itself to us. are there no means by which the course of study may be accelerated?" "undoubtedly," said the indians, "by the practice of religious austerities." "of what nature are these?" inquired the young men. "the intrepid disciple," said the sages, "may chain himself to a tree, and gaze upon the sun until he is deprived of the faculty of vision. he may drive an iron bar through his cheeks and tongue, thus preventing all misuse of the gift of speech. it is open to him to bury himself in the earth up to his waist, relying for his maintenance on the alms of pious donors. he may recline upon a couch studded with spikes, until from the induration of his skin he shall have merited the title of a rhinoceros among sages. as, however, these latter practices interfere with locomotion, and thus prevent his close attendance on his spiritual guide, it is rather recommended to him to elevate his arms above his head, and retain them in that position until, by the withering of the sinews, it is impossible for him to bring them down again." "in that case," cried rufus, "farewell philosophy! farewell euphronia!" there is reason to believe that mnesitheus would have made exactly the same observation if rufus had not been beforehand with him. the spirit of contradiction and the affectation of superiority, however, led him to reproach his rival with pusillanimity, and he went so far that at length he found himself committed to undergo the ordeal: merely stipulating that, in consideration of his being a foreigner, he should be permitted to elevate the right arm only. the king of the country most graciously came to his assistance by causing him to be fastened to a tree, with his uplifted arm secured by iron bands above his head, a fan being put in his other hand to protect him against the molestations of gnats and mosquitoes. by this means, and with the assistance of the monks who continually recited and expounded the buddhist scriptures in his ears, some time even before his arm had stiffened for ever, the doctrine of the misery of existence had become perfectly clear to him. released from his captivity, he hastened back to europe to claim the guerdon of his sufferings. history is silent respecting his adventures until his arrival at berytus, where the strange wild-looking man with the uplifted arm found himself the centre of a turbulent and mischievous rabble. as he seemed about to suffer severe ill-usage, a personage of dignified and portly appearance hastened up, and with his staff showered blows to right and left upon the rioters. "scoundrels," he exclaimed, "finely have ye profited by my precepts, thus to misuse an innocent stranger! but i will no longer dwell among such barbarians. i will remove my school to tarsus!" the mob dispersed. the victim and his deliverer stood face to face. "mnesitheus!" "rufus!" "call me rufinianus," corrected the latter; "for such is the appellation which i have felt it due to myself to assume, since the enhancement of my dignity by becoming euphronius's successor and son-in-law." "son-in-law! am i to lose the reward of my incredible sufferings?" "thou forgettest," said rufinianus, "that euphronia's hand was not promised as the reward of any austerities, but as the meed of the most intelligent, that is, the most acceptable, account of the indian philosophy, which in the opinion of the late eminent euphronius, has been delivered by me. but come to my chamber, and let me minister to thy necessities." these having been duly attended to, rufinianus demanded mnesitheus's history, and then proceeded to narrate his own. "on my journey homeward," said he, "i reflected seriously on the probable purpose of our master in sending us forth, and saw reason to suspect that i had hitherto misapprehended it. for i could not remember that he had ever admitted that he could have anything to learn from other philosophers, or that he had ever exhibited the least interest in philosophic dogmas, excepting his own. the system of the indians, i thought, must be either inferior to that of euphronius, or superior. if the former, he will not want it: if the latter, he will want it much less. i therefore concluded that our mission was partly a concession to public opinion, partly to enable him to say that his name was known, and his teaching proclaimed on the very banks of the ganges. i formed my plan accordingly, and disregarding certain indications that i was neither expected nor wanted, presented myself before euphronius with a gladsome countenance, slightly overcast by sorrow on account of thee, whom i affirmed to have been devoured by a tiger. "'well,' said euphronius in a disdainful tone, 'and what about this vaunted wisdom of the indians?' "'the wisdom of the indians,' i replied, 'is entirely borrowed from pythagoras.' "'did i not tell you so? 'euphronius appealed to his disciples. "'invariably,' they replied. "'as if a barbarian could teach a greek!' said he. "'it is much if he is able to learn from one,' said they. "'pythagoras, then,' said euphronius addressing me,' did not resort to india to be instructed by the gymnosophists?' "'on the contrary,' i answered, 'he went there to teach them, and the little knowledge of divine matters they possess is entirely derived from him. his mission is recorded in a barbarous poem called the ramayana, wherein he is figuratively represented as allying himself with monkeys. he is worshipped all over the country under the appellations of siva, kamadeva, kali, gautama buddha, and others too numerous to mention.' "when i further proceeded to explain that a temple had been erected to euphronius himself on the banks of the ganges, and that a festival, called durga popja, or the feast of reason, had been instituted in his honour, his good humour knew no bounds, and he granted me his daughter's hand without difficulty. he died a few years ago, bequeathing me his celebrated dilemma, and i am now head of his school and founder of the rufinianian philosophy. i am also the author of some admired works, especially a life of pythagoras, and a manual of indian philosophy and religion. i hope for thy own sake thou wilt forbear to contradict me: for no one will believe thee. i trust also that thou wilt speedily overcome thy disappointment with respect to euphronia. i do most honestly and truthfully assure thee that for a one-armed man like thee to marry her would be most inexpedient, inasmuch as the defence of one's beard from her, when she is in a state of excitement, requires the full use of both hands, and of the feet also. but come with me to her chamber, and i will present thee to her. she is always taunting me with my inferiority to thee in personal attractions, and i promise myself much innocent amusement from her discomfiture when she finds thee as gaunt as a wolf and as black as a cinder. only, as i have represented thee to have been devoured by a tiger, thou wilt kindly say that i saved thy life, but concealed the circumstance out of modesty." "i have learned in the indian schools," said mnesitheus, "not to lie for the benefit of others. i will not see euphronia; i would not disturb her ideal of me, nor mine of her. farewell. may the rufinianian sect flourish! and may thy works on pythagoras and india instruct posterity to the tenth generation! i return to palimbothra, where i am held in honour on the self-same account that here renders me ridiculous. it shall be my study to enlighten the natives respecting their obligations to pythagoras, whose name i did not happen to hear while i abode among them." the dumb oracle many the bacchi that brandish the rod: few that be filled with the fire of the god. i in the days of king attalus, before oracles had lost their credit, one of peculiar reputation, inspired, as was believed, by apollo, existed in the city of dorylseum, in phrygia. contrary to usage, its revelations were imparted through the medium of a male priest. it was rarely left unthronged by devout questioners, whose inquiries were resolved in writing, agreeably to the method delivered by the pious lucian, in his work "concerning false prophecy." [*] sometimes, on extraordinary occasions, a voice, evidently that of the deity, was heard declaring the response from the innermost recesses of the shrine. the treasure house of the sanctuary was stored with tripods and goblets, in general wrought from the precious metals; its coffers were loaded with coins and ingots; the sacrifices of wealthy suppliants and the copious offerings in kind of the country people provided superabundantly for the daily maintenance of the temple servitors; while a rich endowment in land maintained the dignity of its guardians, and of the officiating priest. the latter reverend personage was no less eminent for prudence than for piety; on which account the gods had rewarded him with extreme obesity. at length he died, whether of excess in meat or in drink is not agreed among historians. [footnote: _pseudomantis_, cap. - .] the guardians of the temple met to choose a successor, and, naturally desirous that the sanctity of the oracle should suffer no abatement, elected a young priest of goodly presence and ascetic life; the humblest, purest, most fervent, and most ingenuous of the sons of men. so rare a choice might well be expected to be accompanied by some extraordinary manifestation, and, in fact, a prodigy took place which filled the sacred authorities with dismay. the responses of the oracle ceased suddenly and altogether. no revelation was vouchsafed to the pontiff in his slumbers; no access of prophetic fury constrained him to disclose the secrets of the future; no voice rang from the shrine; and the unanswered epistles of the suppliants lay a hopeless encumbrance on the great altar. as a natural consequence they speedily ceased to arrive; the influx of offerings into the treasury terminated along with them; the temple-courts were bare of worshippers; and the only victims whose blood smoked within them were those slain by the priest himself, in the hope of appeasing the displeasure of apollo. the modest hierophant took all the blame upon his own shoulders; he did not doubt that he had excited the deity's wrath by some mysterious but heinous pollution; and was confirmed in this opinion by the unanimous verdict of all whom he approached. one day as he sat sadly in the temple, absorbed in painful meditation, and pondering how he might best relieve himself of his sacred functions, he was startled by the now unwonted sound of a footstep, and, looking up, espied an ancient woman. her appearance was rather venerable than prepossessing. he recognised her as one of the inferior ministers of the temple. "reverend mother," he addressed her, "doubtless thou comest to mingle with mine thy supplications to the deity, that it may please him to indicate the cause, and the remedy of his wrath." "no, son," returned the venerable personage, "i propose to occasion no such needless trouble to apollo, or any other divinity. i hold within mine own hand the power of reviving the splendour of this forsaken sanctuary, and for such consideration as thou wilt thyself pronounce equitable, i am minded to impart the same unto thee." and as the astonished priest made no answer, she continued: "my price is one hundred pieces of gold." "wretch!" exclaimed the priest indignantly, "thy mercenary demand alone proves the vanity of thy pretence of being initiated into the secrets of the gods. depart my presence this moment!" the old woman retired without a syllable of remonstrance, and the incident soon passed from the mind of the afflicted priest. but on the following day, at the same hour, the aged woman again stood before him, and said: "my price is _two_ hundred pieces of gold." again she was commanded to depart, and again obeyed without a murmur. but the adventure now occasioned the priest much serious reflection. to his excited fancy, the patient persistency of the crone began to assume something of a supernatural character. he considered that the ways of the gods are not as our ways, and that it is rather the rule than the exception with them to accomplish their designs in the most circuitous manner, and by the most unlikely instruments. he also reflected upon the history of the sibyl and her books, and shuddered to think that unseasonable obstinacy might in the end cost the temple the whole of its revenues. the result of his cogitations was a resolution, if the old woman should present herself on the following day, to receive her in a different manner. punctual to the hour she made her appearance, and croaked out, "my price is _three_ hundred pieces of gold." "venerable ambassadress of heaven," said the priest, "thy boon is granted thee. relieve the anguish of my bosom as speedily as thou mayest." the old woman's reply was brief and expressive. it consisted in extending her open and hollow palm, into which the priest counted the three hundred pieces of gold with as much expedition as was compatible with the frequent interruptions necessitated by the crone's depositing each successive handful in a leather pouch; and the scrutiny, divided between jealousy and affection, which she bestowed on each individual coin. "and now," said the priest, when the operation was at length completed, "fulfil thy share of the compact." "the cause of the oracle's silence," returned the old woman, "is the unworthiness of the minister." "alas! 'tis even as i feared," sighed the priest. "declare now, wherein consists my sin?" "it consists in this," replied the old woman, "that the beard of thy understanding is not yet grown; and that the egg-shell of thy inexperience is still sticking to the head of thy simplicity; and that thy brains bear no adequate proportion to the skull enveloping them; and in fine, lest i seem to speak overmuch in parables, or to employ a superfluity of epithets, that thou art an egregious nincompoop." and as the amazed priest preserved silence, she pursued: "can aught be more shameful in a religious man than ignorance of the very nature of religion? not to know that the term, being rendered into the language of truth, doth therein signify deception practised by the few wise upon the many foolish, for the benefit of both, but more particularly the former? o silly as the crowds who hitherto have brought their folly here, but now carry it elsewhere to the profit of wiser men than thou! o fool! to deem that oracles were rendered by apollo! how should this be, seeing that there is no such person? needs there, peradventure, any greater miracle for the decipherment of these epistles than a hot needle? [*] as for the supernatural voice, it doth in truth proceed from a respectable, and in some sense a sacred personage, being mine own when i am concealed within a certain recess prepared for me by thy lamented predecessor, whose mistress i was in youth, and whose coadjutor i have been in age. i am now ready to minister to thee in the latter capacity. be ruled by me; exchange thy abject superstition for common sense; thy childish simplicity for discreet policy; thy unbecoming spareness for a majestic portliness; thy present ridiculous and uncomfortable situation for the repute of sanctity, and the veneration of men. thou wilt own that this is cheap at three hundred pieces." [footnote: lucian.] the young priest had hearkened to the crone's discourse with an expression of the most exquisite distress. when she had finished, he arose, and disregarding his repulsive companion's efforts to detain him, departed hastily from the temple. ii it was the young priest's purpose, as soon as he became capable of forming one, to place the greatest possible distance between himself and the city of dorylæum. the love of roaming insensibly grew upon him, and ere long his active limbs had borne him over a considerable portion of asia. his simple wants were easily supplied by the wild productions of the country, supplemented when needful by the proceeds of light manual labour. by degrees the self-contempt which had originally stung him to desperation took the form of an ironical compassion for the folly of mankind, and the restlessness which had at first impelled him to seek relief in a change of scene gave place to a spirit of curiosity and observation. he learned to mix freely with all orders of men, save one, and rejoiced to find the narrow mysticism which he had imbibed from his previous education gradually yielding to contact with the great world. from one class of men, indeed, he learned nothing--the priests, whose society he eschewed with scrupulous vigilance, nor did he ever enter the temples of the gods. diviners, augurs, all that made any pretension whatever to a supernatural character, he held in utter abhorrence, and his ultimate return in the direction of his native country is attributed to his inability to persevere further in the path he was following without danger of encountering chaldean soothsayers, or persian magi, or indian gymnosophists. he cherished, however, no intention of returning to phrygia, and was still at a considerable distance from that region, when one night, as he was sitting in the inn of a small country town, his ear caught a phrase which arrested his attention. "as true as the oracle of dorylæum." the speaker was a countryman, who appeared to have been asseverating something regarded by the rest of the company as greatly in need of confirmation. the sudden start and stifled cry of the ex-priest drew all eyes to him, and he felt constrained to ask, with the most indifferent air he could assume: "is the oracle of dorylæum, then, so exceedingly renowned for veracity?" "whence comest thou to be ignorant of that?" demanded the countryman, with some disdain. "hast thou never heard of the priest eubulides?" "eubulides!" exclaimed the young traveller, "that is my own name!" "thou mayest well rejoice, then," observed another of the guests, "to bear the name of one so holy and pure, and so eminently favoured by the happy gods. so handsome and dignified, moreover, as i may well assert who have often beheld him discharging his sacred functions. and truly, now that i scan thee more closely, the resemblance is marvellous. only that thy namesake bears with him a certain air of divinity, not equally conspicuous in thee." "divinity!" exclaimed another. "aye, if phoebus himself ministered at his own shrine, he could wear no more majestic semblance than eubulides." "or predict the future more accurately," added a priest. "or deliver his oracles in more exquisite verse," subjoined a poet. "yet is it not marvellous," remarked another speaker, "that for some considerable time after his installation the good eubulides was unable to deliver a single oracle?" "aye, and that the first he rendered should have foretold the death of an aged woman, one of the ministers of the temple." "ha!" exclaimed eubulides, "how was that?" "he prognosticated her decease on the following day, which accordingly came to pass, from her being choked with a piece of gold, not lawfully appertaining to herself, which she was endeavouring to conceal under the root of her tongue." "the gods be praised for that!" ejaculated eubulides, under his breath. "pshaw! as if there were gods! if they existed, would they tolerate this vile mockery? to keep up the juggle--well, i know it must be so; but to purloin my name! to counterfeit my person! by all the gods that are not, i will expose the cheat, or perish in the endeavour." he arose early on the following morning and took his way towards the city of dorylæum. the further he progressed in this direction, the louder became the bruit of the oracle of apollo, and the more emphatic the testimonies to the piety, prophetic endowments, and personal attractions of the priest eubulides; his own resemblance to whom was the theme of continual remark. on approaching the city, he found the roads swarming with throngs hastening to the temple, about to take part in a great religious ceremony to be held therein. the seriousness of worship blended delightfully with the glee of the festival, and eubulides, who at first regarded the gathering with bitter scorn, found his moroseness insensibly yielding to the poetic charm of the scene. he could not but acknowledge that the imposture he panted to expose was at least the source of much innocent happiness, and almost wished that the importance of religion, considered as an engine of policy, had been offered to his contemplation from this point of view, instead of the sordid and revolting aspect in which it had been exhibited by the old woman. in this ambiguous frame of mind he entered the temple. before the high altar stood the officiating priest, a young man, the image, yet not the image, of himself. lineament for lineament, the resemblance was exact, but over the stranger's whole figure was diffused an air of majesty, of absolute serenity and infinite superiority, which excluded every idea of deceit, and so awed the young priest that his purpose of rushing forward to denounce the impostor and drag him from the shrine was immediately and involuntarily relinquished. as he stood confounded and irresolute, the melodious voice of the hierophant rang through the temple: "let the priest eubulides stand forth." this summons naturally caused the greatest astonishment in every one but eubulides, who emerged as swiftly as he could from the swaying and murmuring crowd, and confronted his namesake at the altar. a cry of amazement broke from the multitude as they beheld the pair, whose main distinction in the eyes of most was their garb. but, as they gazed, the form of the officiating priest assumed colossal proportions; a circle of beams, dimming sunlight, broke forth around his head; hyacinthine locks clustered on his shoulders, his eyes sparkled with supernatural radiance; a quiver depended at his back; an unstrung bow occupied his hand; the majesty and benignity of his presence alike seemed augmented tenfold. eubulides and the crowd sank simultaneously on their knees, for all recognised apollo. all was silence for a space. it was at length broken by phoebus. "well, eubulides," inquired he, with the bland raillery of an immortal, "has it at length occurred to thee that i may have been long enough away from parnassus, filling thy place here while thou hast been disporting thyself amid heretics and barbarians?" the abashed eubulides made no response. the deity continued: "deem not that thou hast in aught excited the displeasure of the gods. in deserting their altars for truth's sake, thou didst render them the most acceptable of sacrifices, the only one, it may be, by which they set much store. but, eubulides, take heed how thou again sufferest the unworthiness of men to overcome the instincts of thine own nature. thy holiest sentiments should not have been at the mercy of a knave. if the oracle of dorylæum was an imposture, hadst thou no oracle in thine own bosom? if the voice of religion was no longer breathed from the tripod, were the winds and waters silent, or had aught quenched the everlasting stars? if there was no power to impose its mandates from without, couldst thou be unconscious of a power within? if thou hadst nothing to reveal unto men, mightest thou not have found somewhat to propound unto them? know this, that thou hast never experienced a more truly religious emotion than that which led thee to form the design of overthrowing this my temple, the abode, as thou didst deem it, of fraud and superstition." "but now, phoebus," eubulides ventured to reply, "shall i not return to the shrine purified by thy presence, and again officiate as thy unworthy minister?" "no, eubulides," returned phoebus, with a smile; "silver is good, but not for ploughshares. thy strange experience, thy long wanderings, thy lonely meditations, and varied intercourse with men, have spoiled thee for a priest, while, as i would fain hope, qualifying thee for a sage. some worthy person may easily be found to preside over this temple; and by the aid of such inspiration as i may from time to time see meet to vouchsafe him, administer its affairs indifferently well. do thou, eubulides, consecrate thy powers to a more august service than apollo's, to one that shall endure when delphi and delos know _his_ no more." "to whose service, phoebus?" inquired eubulides. "to the service of humanity, my son," responded apollo. duke virgil i the citizens of mantua were weary of revolutions. they had acknowledged the suzerainty of the emperor frederick and shaken it off. they had had a podestà of their own and had shaken him off. they had expelled a papal legate, incurring excommunication thereby. they had tried dictators, consuls, prætors, councils of ten, and other numbers odd and even, and ere the middle of the thirteenth century were luxuriating in the enjoyment of perfect anarchy. an assembly met daily in quest of a remedy, but its members were forbidden to propose anything old, and were unable to invent anything new. "why not consult manto, the alchemist's daughter, our prophetess, our sibyl?" the young benedetto asked at last. "why not?" repeated eustachio, an elderly man. "why not, indeed?" interrogated leonardo, a man of mature years. all the speakers were noble. benedetto was manto's lover; eustachio her father's friend; leonardo his creditor. their advice prevailed, and the three were chosen as a deputation to wait on the prophetess. before proceeding formally on their embassy the three envoys managed to obtain private interviews, the two elder with manto's father, the youth with manto herself. the creditor promised that if he became duke by the alchemist's influence with his daughter he would forgive the debt; the friend went further, and vowed that he would pay it. the old man promised his good word to both, but when he went to confer with his daughter he found her closeted with benedetto, and returned without disburdening himself of his errand. the youth had just risen from his knees, pleading with her, and drawing glowing pictures of their felicity when he should be duke and she duchess. she answered, "benedetto, in all mantua there is not one man fit to rule another. to name any living person would be to set a tyrant over my native city. i will repair to the shades and seek a ruler among the dead." "and why should not mantua have a tyrant?" demanded benedetto. "the freedom of the mechanic is the bondage of the noble, who values no liberty save that of making the base-born do his bidding. 'tis hell to a man of spirit to be contradicted by his tailor. if i could see my heart's desire on the knaves, little would i reck submitting to the sway of the emperor." "i know that well, benedetto," said manto, "and hence will take good heed not to counsel mantua to choose thee. no, the duke i will give her shall be one without passions to gratify or injuries to avenge, and shall already be crowned with a crown to make the ducal cap as nothing in his eyes, if eyes he had." benedetto departed in hot displeasure, and the alchemist came forward to announce that the commissioners waited. "my projection," he whispered, "only wants one more piece of gold to insure success, and eustachio proffers thirty. oh, give him mantua in exchange for boundless riches!" "and they call thee a philosopher and me a visionary!" said manto, patting his cheek. the envoys' commission having been unfolded, she took not a moment to reply, "be your duke virgil." the deputation respectfully represented that although virgil was no doubt mantua's greatest citizen, he laboured under the disqualification of having been dead more than twelve hundred years. nothing further, however, could be extorted from the prophetess, and the ambassadors were obliged to withdraw. the interpretation of manto's oracle naturally provoked much diversity of opinion in the council. "obviously," said a poet, "the prophetess would have us confer the ducal dignity upon the contemporary bard who doth most nearly accede to the vestiges of the divine maro; and he, as i judge, is even now in the midst of you." "virgil the poet," said a priest, who had long laboured under the suspicion of occult practices, "was a fool to virgil the enchanter. the wise woman evidently demands one competent to put the devil into a hole--an operation which i have striven to perform all my life." "canst thou balance our city upon an egg?" inquired eustachio. "better upon an egg than upon a quack!" retorted the priest. but such was not the opinion of eustachio himself, who privately conferred with leonardo. eustachio had a character, but no parts; leonardo had parts, but no character. "i see not why these fools should deride the oracle of the prophetess," he said. "she would doubtless impress upon us that a dead master is in divers respects preferable to a living one." "surely," said eustachio, "provided always that the servant is a man of exemplary character, and that he presumes not upon his lord's withdrawal to another sphere, trusting thereby to commit malpractices with impunity, but doth, on the contrary, deport himself as ever in his great taskmaster's eye." "eustachio," said leonardo, with admiration, "it is the misery of mantua that she hath no citizen who can act half as well as thou canst talk. i would fain have further discourse with thee." the two statesmen laid their heads together, and ere long the mob were crying, "a virgil! a virgil!" the councillors reassembled and passed resolutions. "but who shall be regent?" inquired some one when virgil had been elected unanimously. "who but we?" asked eustachio and leonardo. "are we not the heads of the virgilian party?" thus had the enthusiastic manto, purest of idealists, installed in authority the two most unprincipled politicians in the republic; and she had lost her lover besides, for benedetto fled the city, vowing vengeance. anyhow, the dead poet was enthroned duke of mantua; eustachio and leonardo became regents, with the style of consuls, and it was provided that in doubtful cases reference should be made to the sortes virgilianae. and truly, if we may believe the chronicles, the arrangement worked for a time surprisingly well. the mantuans, in an irrational way, had done what it behoves all communities to do rationally if they can. they had sought for a good and worthy citizen to rule them; it was their misfortune that such an one could only be found among the dead. they felt prouder of themselves for being governed by a great man--one in comparison with whom kings and pontiffs were the creatures of a day. they would not, if they could help it, disgrace themselves by disgracing their hero; they would not have it said that mantua, which had not been too weak to bear him, had been too weak to endure his government. the very hucksters and usurers among them felt dimly that there was such a thing as an ideal. a glimmering perception dawned upon mailed, steel-fisted barons that there was such a thing as an idea, and they felt uneasily apprehensive, like beasts of prey who have for the first time sniffed gunpowder. the railleries and mockeries of mantua's neighbours, moreover, stimulated mantua's citizens to persevere in their course, and deterred them from doing aught to approve themselves fools. were not verona, cremona, lodi, pavia, crema, cities that could never enthrone the virgil they had never produced, watching with undissembled expectation to see them trip? the hollow-hearted eustachio and the rapacious leonardo, their virtual rulers, might indeed be little sensible to this enthusiasm, but they could not disregard the general drift of public opinion, which said clearly: "mantua is trying a great experiment. woe to you if you bring it to nought by your selfish quarrels!" the best proof that there was something in manto's idea was that after a while the emperor frederick took alarm, and signified to the mantuans that they must cease their mumming and fooling and acknowledge him as their sovereign, failing which he would besiege their city. ii mantua was girt by a zone of fire and steel. her villas and homesteads flamed or smoked; her orchards flared heavenward in a torrent of sparks or stood black sapless trunks charred to their inmost pith; the promise of her harvests lay as grey ashes over the land. but her ramparts, though breached in places, were yet manned by her sons, and their assailants recoiled pierced by the shafts or stunned by the catapults of the defence. kaiser frederick sat in his tent, giving secret audience to one who had stolen in disguise over from the city in the grey of the morning. by the emperor's side stood a tall martial figure, wearing a visor which he never removed. "your majesty," leonardo was saying, for it was he, "this madness will soon pass away. the people will weary of sacrificing themselves for a dead heathen." "and liberty?" asked the emperor, "is not that a name dear to those misguided creatures?" "so dear, please your majesty, that if they have but the name they will perfectly dispense with the thing. i do not advise that your imperial yoke should be too palpably adjusted to their stiff necks. leave them in appearance the choice of their magistrate, but insure its falling upon one of approved fidelity, certain to execute obsequiously all your majesty's mandates; such an one, in short, as your faithful vassal leonardo. it would only be necessary to decapitate that dangerous revolutionist, eustachio." "and the citizens are really ready for this?" "all the respectable citizens. all of whom your majesty need take account. all men of standing and substance." "i rejoice to hear it," said the emperor, "and do the more readily credit thee inasmuch as a most virtuous and honourable citizen hath already been beforehand with thee, assuring me of the same thing, and affirming that but one traitor, whose name, methinks, sounded like thine, stands between me and the subjugation of mantua." and, withdrawing a curtain, he disclosed the figure of eustachio. "i thought he was asleep," muttered eustachio. "that noodle to have been beforehand with me!" murmured leonardo. "what perplexes me," continued frederick, after enjoying the confusion of the pair for a few moments, "is that our masked friend here will have it that he is the man for the dukedom, and offers to open the gates to me by a method of his own." "by fair fighting, an' please my liege," observed the visored personage, "not by these dastardly treacheries." "how inhuman!" sighed eustachio. "how old-fashioned!" sneered leonardo. "the truth is," continued frederick, "he gravely doubts whether either of you possesses the influence which you allege, and has devised a method of putting this to the proof, which i trust will commend itself to you." leonardo and eustachio expressed their readiness to submit their credit with their fellow-citizens to any reasonable trial. "he proposes, then," pursued the emperor, "that ye, disarmed and bound, should be placed at the head of the storming column, and in that situation should, as questionless ye would, exert your entire moral influence with your fellow-citizens to dissuade them from shooting you. if the column, thus shielded, enters the city without resistance, ye will both have earned the dukedom, and the question who shall have it may be decided by single combat between yourselves. but should the people, rather than submit to our clemency, impiously slay their elected magistrates, it will be apparent that the methods of our martial friend are the only ones corresponding to the exigency of the case. is the storming column ready?" "all but the first file, please your majesty," responded the man in the visor. "let it be equipped," returned frederick, and in half-an-hour eustachio and leonardo, their hands tied behind them, were stumbling up the breach, impelled by pikes in the rear, and confronting the catapults, _chevaux de frise_, hidden pitfalls, greek fire, and boiling water provided by their own direction, and certified to them the preceding evening as all that could be desired. they had, however, the full use of their voices, and this they turned to the best account. never had leonardo been so cogent, or eustachio so pathetic. the mantuans, already disorganised by the unaccountable disappearance of the executive, were entirely irresolute what to do. as they hesitated the visored chief incited his followers. all seemed lost, when a tall female figure appeared among the defenders. it was manto. "fools and cowards!" she exclaimed, "must ye learn your duty from a woman?" and, seizing a catapult, she discharged a stone which laid the masked warrior stunned and senseless on the ground. the next instant eustachio and leonardo fell dead, pierced by showers of arrows. the mantuans sallied forth. the dismayed imperialists fled to their camp. the bodies of the fallen magistrates and of the unconscious chieftain in the mask were brought into the city. manto herself undid the fallen man's visor, and uttered a fearful shriek as she recognised benedetto. "what shall be done with him, mistress?" they asked. manto long stood silent, torn by conflicting emotions. at length she said, in a strange, unnatural voice: "put him into the square tower." "and now, mistress, what further? how to choose the new consuls?" "ask me no more," she said. "i shall never prophesy again. virtue has gone away from me." the leaders departed, to intrigue for the vacant posts, and devise tortures for benedetto. manto sat on the rampart, still and silent as its stones. anon she rose, and roved about as if distraught, reciting verses from virgil. night had fallen. benedetto lay wakeful in his cell. a female figure stood before him bearing a lamp. it was manto. "benedetto," she said, "i am a wretch, faithless to my country and to my master. i did but even now open his sacred volume at hazard, and on what did my eye first fall? trojaque nunc stares, priamique arx alta maneres. but i can no other. i am a woman. may mantua never entrust her fortunes to the like of me again! come with me, i will release thee." she unlocked his chains; she guided him through the secret passage under the moat; they stood at the exit, in the open air. "fly," she said, "and never again draw sword against thy mother. i will return to my house, and do that to myself which it behoved me to have done ere i released thee." "manto," exclaimed benedetto "a truce to this folly! forsake thy dead duke, and that cheat of liberty more crazy and fantastic still. wed a living duke in me!" "never!" exclaimed manto. "i love thee more than any man living on earth, and i would not espouse thee if the earth held no other." "thou canst not help thyself," he rejoined; "thou hast revealed to me the secret of this passage. i hasten to the camp. i return in an hour with an army, and wilt thou, wilt thou not, to-morrow's sun shall behold thee the partner of my throne!" manto wore a poniard. she struck benedetto to the heart, and he fell dead. she drew the corpse back into the passage, and hurried to her home. opening her master's volume again, she read: tædet coeli convexa tueri. a few minutes afterwards her father entered the chamber to tell her he had at last found the philosopher's stone, but, perceiving his daughter hanging by her girdle, he forbore to intrude upon her, and returned to his laboratory. it was time. a sentinel of the besiegers had marked benedetto's fall, and the disappearance of the body into the earth. a pool of blood revealed the entrance to the passage. ere sunrise mantua was full of frederick's soldiers, full also of burning houses, rifled sanctuaries, violated damsels, children playing with their dead mothers' breasts, especially full of citizens protesting that they had ever longed for the restoration of the emperor, and that this was the happiest day of their lives. frederick waited till everybody was killed, then entered the city and proclaimed an amnesty. virgil's bust was broken, and his writings burned with manto's body. the flames glowed on the dead face, which gleamed as it were with pleasure. the old alchemist had been slain among his crucibles; his scrolls were preserved with jealous care. but manto found another father. she sat at virgil's feet in elysium; and as he stroked the fair head, now golden with perpetual youth, listened to his mild reproofs and his cheerful oracles. by her side stood a bowl filled with the untasted waters of lethe. "woe," said virgil--but his manner contradicted his speech--"woe to the idealist and enthusiast! woe to them who live in the world to come! woe to them who live only for a hope whose fulfilment they will not behold on earth! drink not, therefore, of that cup, dear child, lest duke virgil's day should come, and thou shouldst not know it. for come it will, and all the sooner for thy tragedy and thy comedy." the claw the balm and stillness of a summer's night enveloped a spacious piazza in the city of shylock and desdemona. the sky teemed with light drifting clouds through which the beaming of the full moon broke at intervals upon some lamp-lit palace, thronged and musical, for it was a night of festivity, or silvered the dull creeping waters. ever and anon some richly attired young patrician descended the steps of one or other of these mansions, and hurried across the wide area to the canal stairs, where his gondola awaited him. whoever did this could not but observe a tall female figure, which, cloaked and masked, walked backwards and forwards across the piazza, regarding no one, yet with an air that seemed to invite a companion. more than one of the young nobles approached the presumably fair peripatetic, and, with courtesy commonly in inverse ratio to the amount of wine he was carrying home, proffered his escort to his gondola. whenever this happened the figure removed her mask and unclasped her robe, and revealed a sight which for one moment rooted the young man to the earth and in the next sent him scampering to his bark. for the countenance was a death's head, and the breast was that of a mouldering skeleton. at last, however, a youth presented himself who, more courageous or more tipsy than his fellows, or more helplessly paralysed with horror than they, did not decline the proffered caress, and suffered himself to be drawn within the goblin's accursed embrace. valiant or pot-valiant, great was his relief at finding himself clasped, instead of by a loathsome spectre, by a silver-haired man of noble presence, yet with a countenance indescribably haggard and anxious. "come, my son," he cried, "hasten whither the rewards of thy intrepidity await thee. impouch the purse of fortunatus! indue the signet of solomon!" the young man hesitated. "is there nought else?" he cautiously demanded. "needs it not that i should renounce my baptism? must i not subscribe an infernal compact?" "in thy own blood, my son," cheerfully responded the old gentleman. "peradventure," hesitatingly interrogated the youth, "peradventure you are _he_?" "not so, my son, upon honour," returned the mysterious personage. "i am but a distressed magician, at this present in fearful straits, from which i look to be delivered by thee." the youth gazed some moments at his companion's head, and then still more earnestly at his feet. he then yielded his own hand to him, and the pair crossed the piazza, almost at a run, the magician ever ejaculating, "speed! speed!" they paused at the foot of a lofty tower, doorless and windowless, with no visible access of any kind. but the magician signed with his hand, pronounced some cabalistical words, and instantly stone and lime fell asunder and revealed an entrance through which they passed, and which immediately closed behind them. the youth quaked at finding himself alone in utter darkness with he knew not what, but the wizard whistled, and a severed hand appeared in air bearing a lamp which illuminated a long winding staircase. the old man motioned to the youth to precede him, nor dared he refuse, though feeling as though he would have given the world for the very smallest relic of the very smallest saint. the distorted shadows of the twain, dancing on stair and wall with the wavering lamp-shine, seemed phantoms capering in an infernal revel, and he glanced back ever and anon weening to see himself dogged by some frightful monster, but he saw only the silver hair and sable velvet of the dignified old man. after the ascent of many steps a door opened before them, and they found themselves in a spacious chamber, brightly, yet from its size imperfectly illumined by a single large lamp. it was wainscoted with ebony, and the furniture was of the same. a long table was covered with scrolls, skulls, crucibles, crystals, star-charts, geomantic figures, and other appurtenances of a magician's calling. tomes of necromantic lore lined the walls, which were yet principally occupied with crystal vessels, in which foul beings seemed dimly and confusedly to agitate themselves. the magician signed to his visitor to be seated, sat down himself and began: "brave youth, ere entering upon the boundless power and riches that await thee, learn who i am and why i have brought thee here. behold in me no vulgar wizard, no mere astrologer or alchemist, but a compeer of merlin and michael scott, with whose name it may be the nurse of thy infancy hath oft-times quelled thy froward humours. i am peter of abano, falsely believed to have lain two centuries buried in the semblance of a dog under a heap of stones hurled by the furious populace, but in truth walking earth to this day, in virtue of the compact now to be revealed to thee. hearken, my son! vain must be the machinations of my enemies, vain the onslaughts of the rabble, so long as i fulfil a certain contract registered in hell's chancery, as i have now done these three hundred years. and the condition is this, that every year i present unto the demon one who hath at my persuasion assigned his soul to him in exchange for power, riches, knowledge, magical gifts, or whatever else his heart chiefly desireth; nor until this present year have i perilled the fulfilment of my obligation. seest thou these scrolls? they are the assignments of which i have spoken. it would amaze thee to scan the subscriptions, and perceive in these the signatures of men exemplary in the eyes of their fellows, clothed with high dignities in church and state--nay sometimes redolent of the very odour of sanctity. never hath my sagacity deceived me until this year, when, smitten with the fair promise of a youth of singular impishness, i omitted to take due note of his consumptive habit, and have but this afternoon encountered his funeral. this is the last day of my year, and should my engagement be unredeemed when the sun attains the cusp of that nethermost house of heaven which he is even now traversing, i must become an inmate of the infernal kingdom. no time has remained for nice investigation. i have therefore proved the courage of the venetian youth in the manner thou knowest, and thou alone hast sustained the ordeal. fail not at my bidding, or thou quittest not this chamber alive. for when the demon comes to bear me away, he will assuredly rend thee in pieces for being found in my company. thou hast, therefore, everything to gain and nothing to lose by joining the goodly fellowship of my mates and partners. delay not, time urges, night deepens, they that would drink thy blood are abroad. hearest thou not the moaning and pelting of the rising storm, and the muttering and scraping of my imprisoned goblins? save us, i entreat, i command, save us both!" screaming with agitation the aged sorcerer laid a scroll engrossed with fairly written characters before the youth, stabbed the latter's arm with a stylus that at once evoked and collected the crimson stream, thrust this into his hand and strove to guide it to the parchment, chanting at the same time litanies to the infernal powers. the crystal flagons rang like one great harmonica with shrill but spirit-stirring music; volumes of vaporous perfumes diffused themselves through the apartment, and an endless procession of treasure-laden figures defiled before the bewildered youth. he seemed buried in the opulence of the world, as he sat up to his waist in gold and jewels; all the earth's beauty gazed at him through eyes brilliant and countless as the stars of heaven; courtiers beckoned him to thrones; battle-steeds neighed and pawed for his mounting; laden tables allured every appetite; vassals bent in homage; slaves fell prostrate at his feet. now he seemed to collect or disperse legions of spirits with the waving of a wand; anon, as he pronounced a spell, golden dragons glided away from boughs laden with golden fruits. well for him, doubtless, that in him nature had kneaded from ordinary clay as unimaginative a youth as could be found in venice: yet even so, dazzled with glamour, intoxicated with illusion, less and less able to resist the cunningly mingled caresses, entreaties, and menaces of abano, he could not refrain from tracing a few characters with the stylus, when, catching reflected in a mirror the old magician's expression of wolfish glee, he dropped the instrument from his grasp, and cast his eye upwards as if appealing to heaven. but every drop of blood seemed frozen in his frame as he beheld an enormous claw thrust through the roof, member as it seemed of some being too gigantic to be contained in the chamber or the tower itself. cold, poignant, glittering as steel, it rested upon a socket of the repulsive hue of jaundiced ivory, with no vestige of a foot or anything to relieve its naked horror as, rigid and lifeless, yet plainly with a mighty force behind it, it pointed at the magician's heart. as abano, following the youth's eye, caught sight of the portent, his visage assumed an expression of frantic horror, his spells died upon his lips, and the gorgeous figures became grinning apes or blotchy toads: madly he seized the young man's hand, and strove to force him to complete his signature. the robust youth felt as an infant in his grasp, but ere the stylus could be again thrust upon him the first stroke of the midnight hour rang through the chamber, and instantly the gigantic talon pierced abano from breast to back, projecting far beyond his shoulders, and swept him upwards to the roof, through which both disappeared without leaving a trace of their passage. horror and thankfulness rushed together into the young man's mind, and there contended for some brief instants: but as the last stroke sounded all the crystal vials shivered with a stunning crash, and their hellish inmates, rejoicing in their deliverance, swarmed into the chamber. all made for the youth, who, tugged, clawed, fondled, bitten, beslimed, blinded, deafened, beset in every way by creatures of indescribable loathsomeness, grasped frantically as his sole weapon, the stylus; but it had become a writhing serpent. this was too much, sense forsook him on the spot. on recovering consciousness he found himself stretched on a pallet in the dungeons of the inquisition. the inquisitors sat on their tribunals; black-robed familiars flitted about, or waited attentive upon their orders; one expert in ecclesiastical jurisprudence proved the edge of an axe, and another heated pincers in a chafing-dish; dismal groans pierced the massy walls; two sturdy fellows, stripped to the waist, adjusted the rollers of a rack. a surgeon approached the bedside, bearing a phial and a lancet. the youth screamed and again became insensible. but his affright was groundless. the inquisitors had already taken cognisance of abano's scrolls, and found that, touching these at least, he had spoken sooth. besides kings, princes, ministers, magistrates, and other secular persons who had owed their success in life to dealings with the devil under his mediation, the infernal bondsmen included so many pillars of the church and champions of the faith; prelates plenty, abbots in abundance, cardinals not a few, a (some whispered _the_) pope; above all, so many of the inquisitors themselves, that further inquiry could evidently nowise conduce to edification. the surgeon, therefore, infused an opiate into the veins of the unconscious youth, and he came to himself upon a galley speeding him to the holy war in cyprus, where he fell fighting the turk. alexander the ratcatcher "alexander octavus mures, qui urbem supra modum vexabant, anathemate perculit."[--_palatius. fasti cardinalium_, tom. v.p. .] i "rome and her rats are at the point of battle!" this metaphor of menenius agrippa's became, history records, matter of fact in , when rats pervaded the eternal city from garret to cellar, and pope alexander the eighth seriously apprehended the fate of bishop hatto. the situation worried him sorely; he had but lately attained the tiara at an advanced age--the twenty-fourth hour, as he himself remarked in extenuation of his haste to enrich his nephews. the time vouchsafed for worthier deeds was brief, and he dreaded descending to posterity as the rat pope. witty and genial, his sense of humour teased him with a full perception of the absurdity of his position. peter and pasquin concurred in forbidding him to desert his post; and he derived but small comfort from the ingenuity of his flatterers, who compared him to st. paul contending with beasts at ephesus. it wanted three half-hours to midnight, as alexander sat amid traps and ratsbane in his chamber in the vatican, under the protection of two enormous cats and a british terrier. a silver bell stood ready to his hand, should the aid of the attendant chamberlains be requisite. the walls had been divested of their tapestries, and the floor gleamed with pounded glass. a tome of legendary lore lay open at the history of the piper of hamelin. all was silence, save for the sniffing and scratching of the dog and a sound of subterranean scraping and gnawing. "why tarries cardinal barbadico thus?" the pope at last asked himself aloud. the inquiry was answered by a wild burst of squeaking and clattering and scurrying to and fro, as who should say, "we've eaten him! we've eaten him!" but this exultation was at least premature, for just as the terrified pope clutched his bell, the door opened to the narrowest extent compatible with the admission of an ecclesiastical personage of dignified presence, and cardinal barbadico hastily squeezed himself through. "i shall hardly trust myself upon these stairs again," he remarked, "unless under the escort of your holiness's terrier." "take him, my son, and a cruse of holy water to boot," the pope responded. "now, how go things in the city?" "as ill as may be, your holiness. not a saint stirs a finger to help us. the country-folk shun the city, the citizens seek the country. the multitude of enemies increases hour by hour. they set at defiance the anathemas fulminated by your holiness, the spiritual censures placarded in the churches, and the citation to appear before the ecclesiastical courts, although assured that their cause shall be pleaded by the ablest advocates in rome. the cats, amphibious with alarm, are taking to the tiber. vainly the city reeks with toasted cheese, and the commissary-general reports himself short of arsenic." "and how are the people taking it?" demanded alexander. "to what cause do they attribute the public calamity?" "generally speaking, to the sins of your holiness," replied the cardinal. "cardinal!" exclaimed alexander indignantly. "i crave pardon for my temerity," returned barbadico. "it is with difficulty that i force myself to speak, but i am bound to lay the ungrateful truth before your holiness. the late pope, as all men know, was a personage of singular sanctity." "far too upright for this fallen world," observed alexander with unction. "i will not dispute," responded the cardinal, "that the head of innocent the eleventh might have been more fitly graced by a halo than by a tiara. but the vulgar are incapable of placing themselves at this point of view. they know that the rats hardly squeaked under innocent, and that they swarm under alexander. what wonder if they suspect your holiness of familiarity with beelzebub, the patron of vermin, and earnestly desire that he would take you to himself? vainly have i represented to them the unreasonableness of imposing upon him a trouble he may well deem superfluous, considering your holiness's infirm health and advanced age. vainly, too, have i pointed out that your anathema has actually produced all the effect that could have been reasonably anticipated from any similar manifesto on your predecessor's part. they won't see it. and, in fact, might i humbly advise, it does appear impolitic to hurl anathemas unless your holiness knows that some one will be hit. it might be opportune, for example, to excommunicate father molinos, now fast in the dungeons of st. angelo, unless, indeed, the rats have devoured him there. but i question the expediency of going much further." "cardinal," said the pope, "you think yourself prodigiously clever, but you ought to know that the state of public opinion allowed us no alternative. moreover, i will give you a wrinkle, in case you should ever come to be pope yourself. it is unwise to allow ancient prerogatives to fall entirely into desuetude. far-seeing men prognosticate a great revival of sacerdotalism in the nineteenth century, and what is impotent in an age of sense may be formidable in an age of nonsense. further, we know not from one day to another whether we may not be absolutely necessitated to excommunicate that fautor of gallicanism, louis the fourteenth, and before launching our bolt at a king, we may think well to test its efficacy upon a rat. _fiat experimentum._ and now to return to our rats, from which we have ratted. is there indeed no hope?" "_lateat scintillula forsan_," said the cardinal mysteriously. "ha! how so?" eagerly demanded alexander. "our hopes," answered the cardinal, "are associated with the recent advent to this city of an extraordinary personage." "explain," urged the pope. "i speak," resumed the cardinal, "of an aged man of no plebeian mien or bearing, albeit most shabbily attired in the skins, now fabulously cheap, of the vermin that torment us; who, professing to practise as an herbalist, some little time ago established himself in an obscure street of no good repute. a tortoise hangs in his needy shop, nor are stuffed alligators lacking. understanding that he was resorted to by such as have need of philters and love-potions, or are incommoded by the longevity of parents and uncles, i was about to have him arrested, when i received a report which gave me pause. this concerned the singular intimacy which appeared to subsist between him and our enemies. when he left home, it was averred, he was attended by troops of them obedient to his beck and call, and spies had observed him banqueting them at his counter, the rats sitting erect and comporting themselves with perfect decorum. i resolved to investigate the matter for myself. looking into his house through an unshuttered window, i perceived him in truth surrounded by feasting and gambolling rats; but when the door was opened in obedience to my attendants' summons, he appeared to be entirely alone. laying down a pestle and mortar, he greeted me by name with an easy familiarity which for the moment quite disconcerted me, and inquired what had procured him the honour of my visit. recovering myself, and wishing to intimidate him: "'i desire in the first place,' i said, 'to point out to you your grave transgression of municipal regulations in omitting to paint your name over your shop.' "'call me rattila,' he rejoined with unconcern, 'and state your further business.' "i felt myself on the wrong tack, and hastened to interrogate him respecting his relations with our adversaries. he frankly admitted his acquaintance with rattery in all its branches, and his ability to deliver the city from this scourge, but his attitude towards your holiness was so deficient in respect that i question whether i ought to report it." "proceed, son," said the pope; "we will not be deterred from providing for the public weal by the ribaldry of a ratcatcher." "he scoffed at what he termed your holiness's absurd position, and affirmed that the world had seldom beheld, or would soon behold again, so ridiculous a spectacle as a pope besieged by rats. 'i can help your master,' he continued, 'and am willing; but my honour, like his, is aspersed in the eyes of the multitude, and he must come to my aid, if i am to come to his.' "i prayed him to be more explicit, and offered to be the bearer of any communication to your holiness. "'i will unfold myself to no one but the pope himself,' he replied, 'and the interview must take place when and where i please to appoint. let him meet me this very midnight, and alone, in the fifth chamber of the appartamento borgia.' "'the appartamento borgia!' i exclaimed in consternation. 'the saloons which the wicked pope alexander the sixth nocturnally perambulates, mingling poisons that have long lost their potency for cardinals who have long lost their lives!' "'have a care!' he exclaimed sharply. 'you speak to his late holiness's most intimate friend.' "'then,' i answered, 'you must obviously be the devil, and i am not at present empowered to negotiate with your infernal majesty. consider, however, the peril and inconvenience of visiting at dead of night rooms closed for generations. think of the chills and cobwebs. weigh the probability of his holiness being devoured by rats.' "'i guarantee his holiness absolute immunity from cold,' he replied, 'and that none of my subjects shall molest him either going or returning.' "'but,' i objected, 'granting that you are not the devil, how the devil, let me ask, do you expect to gain admittance at midnight to the appartamento borgia?' "'think you i cannot pass through a stone wall?' answered he, and vanished in an instant. a tremendous scampering of rats immediately ensued, then all was silence. "on recovering in some measure from my astounded condition, i caused strict search to be made throughout the shop. nothing came to light but herbalists' stuff and ordinary medicines. and now, holy father, your holiness's resolution? reflect well. this rattila may be the king of the rats, or he may be beelzebub in person." alexander the eighth was principally considered by his contemporaries in the light of a venerable fox, but the lion had by no means been omitted from his composition. "all powers of good forbid," he exclaimed, "that a pope and a prince should shrink from peril which the safety of the state summons him to encounter! i will confront this wizard, this goblin, in the place of his own appointing, under his late intimate friend's very nose. i am a man of many transgressions, but something assures me that heaven will not deem this a fit occasion for calling them to remembrance. time presses; i lead on; follow, cardinal barbadico, follow! yet stay, let us not forget temporal and spiritual armouries." and hastily providing himself with a lamp, a petronel, a bunch of keys, a crucifix, a vial of holy water, and a manual of exorcisms, the pope passed through a secret door in a corner of his chamber, followed by the cardinal bearing another lamp and a naked sword, and preceded by the dog and the two cats, all ardent and undaunted as champions bound to the holy land for the recovery of the holy sepulchre. ii the wizard had kept his word. not a rat was seen or heard upon the pilgrimage, which was exceedingly toilsome to the aged pope, from the number of passages to be threaded and doors to be unlocked. at length the companions stood before the portal of the appartamento borgia. "your holiness must enter alone," cardinal barbadico admonished, with manifest reluctance. "await my return," enjoined the pontiff, in a tone of more confidence than he could actually feel, as, after much grinding and grating, the massive door swung heavily back, and he passed on into the dim, unexplored space beyond. the outer air, streaming in as though eager to indemnify itself for years of exile, smote and swayed the flame of the pope's lamp, whose feeble ray flitted from floor to ceiling as the decrepit man, weary with the way he had traversed and the load he was bearing, tottered and stumbled painfully along, ever and anon arrested by a closed door, which he unlocked with prodigious difficulty. the cats cowered close to the cardinal; the dog at first accompanied the pope, but whined so grievously, as though he beheld a spirit, that alexander bade him back. supreme is the spell of the _genius loci_. the chambers traversed by the pope were in fact adorned with fair examples of the painter's art, mostly scriptural in subject, but some inspired with the devout pantheism in which all creeds are reconciled. all were alike invisible to the pontiff, who, with the dim flicker of his lamp, could no more discern judaea wed with egypt on the frescoed ceiling than, with the human limitation of his faculties, he could foresee that the ill-reputed rooms would one day harbour a portion of the vatican library, so greatly enriched by himself. nothing but sinister memories and vague alarms presented themselves to his imagination. the atmosphere, heavy and brooding from the long exclusion of the outer air, seemed to weigh upon him with the density of matter, and to afford the stuff out of which phantasmal bodies perpetually took shape and, as he half persuaded himself, substance. creeping and tottering between bowl and cord, shielding himself with lamp and crucifix from michelotto's spectral poniard and more fearful contact with fleshless vanozzas and mouldering giulias, the pope urged, or seemed to urge, his course amid phantom princes and cardinals, priests and courtesans, soldiers and serving-men, dancers, drinkers, dicers, bacchic and cotyttian workers of whatsoever least beseemed the inmates of a pontifical household, until, arrived in the fifth chamber, close by the, to him, invisible picture of the resurrection, he sank exhausted into a spacious chair that seemed placed for his reception, and for a moment closed his eyes. opening them immediately afterwards, he saw with relief that the phantoms had vanished, and that he confronted what at least seemed a fellow-mortal, in the ancient ratcatcher, habited precisely as cardinal barbadico had described, yet, for all his mean apparel, wearing the air of one wont to confer with the potentates of the earth on other subjects than the extermination of rats. "this is noble of your holiness--really," he said, bowing with mock reverence. "a second leo the great!" "i tell you what, my man," responded alexander, feeling it very necessary to assert his dignity while any of it remained, "you are not to imagine that, because i have humoured you so far as to grant you an audience at an unusual place and time, i am going to stand any amount of your nonsense and impertinence. you can catch our rats, can you? catch them then, and you need not fear that we shall treat you like the pied piper of hamelin. you have committed sundry rascalities, no doubt? a pardon shall be made out for you. you want a patent or a privilege for your ratsbane? you shall have it. so to work, in the name of st. muscipulus! and you may keep the tails and skins." "alexander," said the ratcatcher composedly, "i would not commend or dispraise you unduly, but this i may say, that of all the popes i have known you are the most exuberant in hypocrisy and the most deficient in penetration. the most hypocritical, because you well know, and know that i know that you know, that you are not conversing with an ordinary ratcatcher: had you deemed me such, you would never have condescended to meet me at this hour and place. the least penetrating, because you apparently have not yet discovered to whom you are speaking. do you really mean to say that you do not know me?" "i believe i have seen your face before," said alexander, "and all the more likely as i was inspector of prisons when i was cardinal." "then look yonder," enjoined the ratcatcher, as he pointed to the frescoed wall, at the same time vehemently snapping his fingers. phosphoric sparks hissed and crackled forth, and coalesced into a blue lambent flame, which concentrated itself upon a depicted figure, whose precise attitude the ratcatcher assumed as he dropped upon his knees. the pope shrieked with amazement, for, although the splendid pontifical vestments had become ragged fur, in every other respect the kneeling figure was the counterpart of the painted one, and the painted one was pinturicchio's portrait of pope alexander the sixth kneeling as a witness of the resurrection. alexander the eighth would fain have imitated his predecessor's attitude, but terror bound him to his chair, and the adjuration of his patron st. mark which struggled towards his lips never arrived there. the book of exorcisms fell from his paralysed hand, and the vial of holy water lay in shivers upon the floor. ere he could collect himself, the dead pope had seated himself beside the pope with one foot in the grave, and, fondling a ferret-skin, proceeded to enter into conversation. "what fear you?" he asked. "why should i harm you? none can say that i ever injured any one for any cause but my own advantage, and to injure your holiness now would be to obstruct a design which i have particularly at heart." "i crave your holiness's forgiveness," rejoined the eighth alexander, "but you must be aware that you left the world with a reputation which disqualifies you for the society of any pope in the least careful of his character. it positively compromises me to have so much as the ghost of a person so universally decried as your holiness under my roof, and you would infinitely oblige me by forthwith repairing to your own place, which i take to be about four thousand miles below where you are sitting. i could materially facilitate and accelerate your holiness's transit thither if you would be so kind as to hand me that little book of exorcisms." "how is the fine gold become dim!" exclaimed alexander the sixth. "popes in bondage to moralists! popes nervous about public opinion! is there another judge of morals than the pope speaking _ex cathedra_, as i always did? is the church to frame herself after the prescriptions of heathen philosophers and profane jurists? how, then, shall she be terrible as an army with banners? did i concern myself with such pedantry when the kings of spain and portugal came to me like cats suing for morsels, and i gave them the west and the east?" "it is true," alexander the eighth allowed, "that the lustre of the church hath of late been obfuscated by the prevalence of heresy." "it isn't the heretics," borgia insisted. "it is the degeneracy of the popes. a shabby lot! you, alexander, are about the best of them; but the least cardinal about my court would have thought himself bigger than you." alexander's spirit rose. "i would suggest," he said, "that this haughty style is little in keeping with the sordid garb wherein your holiness, consistent after death as in your life, masquerades to the scandal and distress of the faithful." "how can i other? has your holiness forgotten your rabelais?" "the works of that eminent doctor and divine," answered alexander the eighth, "are seldom long absent from my hands, yet i fail to remember in what manner they elucidate the present topic." "let me refresh your memory," rejoined borgia, and, producing a volume of the sage of meudon, he turned to the chapter descriptive of the employments of various eminent inhabitants of the nether world, and pointed to the sentence: "le pape alexandre estoyt preneur de ratz." [*] [footnote: _pantagruel_, book xi. ch. .] "is this indeed sooth?" demanded his successor. "how else should françois rabelais have affirmed it?" responded borgia. "when i arrived in the subterranean kingdom, i found it in the same condition as your holiness's dominions at the present moment, eaten up by rats. the attention which, during my earthly pilgrimage, i had devoted to the science of toxicology indicated me as a person qualified to abate the nuisance, which commission i executed with such success, that i received the appointment of ratcatcher to his infernal majesty, and so discharged its duties as to merit a continuance of the good opinion which had always been entertained of me in that exalted quarter. after a while, however, interest began to be made for me in even more elevated spheres. i had not been able to cram heaven with spaniards, as i had crammed the sacred college--on the contrary. truth to speak, my nation has not largely contributed to the population of the regions above. but some of us are people of consequence. my great-grandson, the general of the jesuits, who, as such, had the ear of st. ignatius loyola, represented that had i adhered strictly to my vows, he could never have come into existence, and that the society would thus have wanted one of its brightest ornaments. this argument naturally had great weight with st. ignatius, the rather as he, too, was my countryman. much also was said of the charity i had shown to the exiled jews, which st. dominic was pleased to say made him feel ashamed of himself when he came to think of it; for my having fed my people in time of dearth, instead of contriving famines to enrich myself, as so many popes' nephews have done since; and of the splendid order in which i kept the college of cardinals. columbus said a good word for me, and savonarola did not oppose. finally i was allowed to come upstairs, and exercise my profession on earth. but mark what pitfalls line the good man's path! i never could resist tampering with drugs of a deleterious nature, and was constantly betrayed by the thirst for scientific experiment into practices incompatible with the public health. the good nature which my detractors have not denied me was a veritable snare. i felt for youth debarred from its enjoyments by the unnatural vitality of age, and sympathised with the blooming damsel whose parent alone stood between her and her lover. i thus lived in constant apprehension of being ordered back to the netherlands, and yearned for the wings of a dove, that i might flee away and be out of mischief. at last i discovered that my promotion to a higher sphere depended upon my obtaining a testimonial from the reigning pope. let a solemn procession be held in my honour, and intercession be publicly made for me, and i should ascend forthwith. i have consequently represented my case to many of your predecessors: but, o alexander, you seventeenth-century popes are a miserable breed! no fellow-feeling, no _esprit de corps. heu pietas! heu prisca fides_! no one was so rude as your ascetic antecessor. the more of a saint, the less of a gentleman. personally offensive, i assure you! but the others were nearly as bad. the haughty paul, the fanatic gregory, the worldly urban, the austere innocent the tenth, the affable alexander the seventh, all concurred in assuring me that it was deeply to be regretted that i should ever have been emancipated from the restraints of the stygian realm, to which i should do well to return with all possible celerity; that it would much conduce to the interests of the church if my name could be forgotten; and that as for doing anything to revive its memory, they would just as soon think of canonising judas iscariot." "and therefore your holiness has brought these rats upon us, enlisted, i nothing doubt, in the infernal regions?" "precisely so: plutonic, necyomantic, lemurian rats, kindly lent by the prince of darkness for the occasion, and come dripping from styx to squeak and gibber in the capitol. but i note your holiness's admission that they belong to a region exempt from your jurisdiction, and that, therefore, your measures against them, except as regards their status as belligerents, are for the most part illegitimate and _ultra vires_." "i would argue that point," replied alexander the eighth, "if my lungs were as tough as when i pleaded before the rota in pope urban's time. for the present i confine myself to formally protesting against your holiness's unprecedented and parricidal conduct in invading your country at the head of an army of loathsome vermin." "unprecedented!" exclaimed borgia. "am i not the modern coriolanus? did narses experience blacker ingratitude than i? where would the temporal power be but for me? who smote the colonna? who squashed the orsini? who gave the popes to dwell quietly in their own house? monsters of unthankfulness!" "i am sure," said alexander the eighth soothingly, "that my predecessors' inability to comply with your holiness's request must have cost them many inward tears, not the less genuine because entirely invisible and completely inaudible. a wise pope will, before all things, consider the spirit of his age. the force of public opinion, which your holiness lately appeared to disparage, was, in fact, as operative upon yourself as upon any of your successors. if you achieved great things in your lifetime, it was because the world was with you. did you pursue the same methods now, you would soon discover that you had become an offensive anachronism. it will not have escaped your holiness's penetration that what moralists will persist in terming the elevation of the standard of the church, is the result of the so-called improvement of the world." "there is a measure of truth in this," admitted alexander the sixth, "and the spirit of this age is a very poor spirit. it was my felicity to be a pope of the renaissance. blest dispensation! when men's view of life was large and liberal; when the fair humanities flourished; when the earth yielded up her hoards of chiselled marble and breathing bronze, and new-found agate urns as fresh as day; when painters and sculptors vied with antiquity, and poets and historians followed in their path; when every benign deity was worshipped save diana and vesta; when the arts of courtship and cosmetics were expounded by archbishops; when the beauteous imperia was of more account than the eleven thousand virgins; when obnoxious persons glided imperceptibly from the world; and no one marvelled if he met the pope arm in arm with the devil. how miserable, in comparison, is the present sapless age, with its prudery and its pedantry, and its periwigs and its painted coaches, and its urban arcadias and the florid impotence and ostentatious inanity of what it calls its art! pope alexander! i see in the spirit the sepulchre destined for _you_, and i swear to you that my soul shivers in my ratskins! come, now! i do not expect you to emulate the popes of my time, but show that your virtues are your own, and your faults those of your epoch. pluck up a spirit! take bulls by the horns! look facts in the face! think upon the images of brutus and cassius! recognise that you cannot get rid of me, and that the only safe course is to rehabilitate me. i am not a candidate for canonisation just now; but repair past neglect and appease my injured shade in the way you wot of. if this is done, i pledge my word that every rat shall forthwith evacuate rome. is it a bargain? i see it is; you are one of the good old sort, though fallen on evil days." renaissance or rats, alexander the eighth yielded. "i promise," he declared. "your hand upon it!" subduing his repugnance and apprehension by a strong effort, alexander laid his hand within the spectre's clammy paw. an icy thrill ran through his veins, and he sank back senseless into his chair. iii when the pope recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, with slight symptoms of fever. his first care was to summon cardinal barbadico, and confer with him respecting the surprising adventures which had recently befallen them. to his amazement, the cardinal's mind seemed an entire blank on the subject. he admitted having made his customary report to his holiness the preceding night, but knew nothing of any supernatural ratcatcher, and nothing of any midnight rendezvous at the appartamento borgia. investigation seemed to justify his nescience; no vestige of the man of rats or of his shop could be discovered; and the borgian apartments, opened and carefully searched through, revealed no trace of having been visited for many years. the pope's book of exorcisms was in its proper place, his vial of holy water stood unbroken upon his table; and his chamberlains deposed that they had consigned him to morpheus at the usual hour. his illusion was at first explained as the effect of a peculiarly vivid dream; but when he declared his intention of actually holding a service and conducting a procession for the weal of his namesake and predecessor, the conviction became universal that the rats had effected a lodgement in his holiness's upper storeys. alexander, notwithstanding, was resolute, and so it came to pass that on the same day two mighty processions encountered within the walls of rome. as the assembled clergy, drawn from all the churches and monasteries in the city, the pope in his litter in their midst, marched, carrying candles, intoning chants, and, with many a secret shrug and sneer, imploring heaven for the repose of alexander the sixth, they were suddenly brought to bay by another procession precipitated athwart their track, disorderly, repulsive, but more grateful to the sight of the citizens than all the pomps and pageants of the palmiest days of the papacy. black, brown, white, grey; fat and lean; old and young; strident or silent; the whiskered legions tore and galloped along; thronging from every part of the city, they united in single column into an endless host that appeared to stretch from the rising to the setting of the sun. they seemed making for the tiber, which they would have speedily choked; but ere they could arrive there a huge rift opened in the earth, down which they madly precipitated themselves. their descent, it is affirmed, lasted as many hours as vulcan occupied in falling from heaven to lemnos; but when the last tail was over the brink, the gulf closed as effectually as the gulf in the forum closed over marcus curtius, not leaving the slightest inequality by which any could detect it. long ere this consummation had been attained, the pope, looking forth from his litter, observed a venerable personage clad in ratskins, who appeared desirous of attracting his notice. glances of recognition were exchanged, and instantly in place of the ratcatcher stood a tall, swarthy, corpulent, elderly man, with the majestic yet sensual features of alexander the sixth, accoutred with the official habiliments and insignia of a pope, who rose slowly into the air as though he had been inflated with hydrogen. "to your prayers!" cried alexander the eighth, and gave the example. the priesthood resumed its chants, the multitude dropped upon their knees. their orisons seemed to speed the ascending figure, which was rising rapidly, when suddenly appeared in air luxury, simony, and cruelty, contending which should receive the holy father into her bosom. [*] borgia struck at them with his crozier, and seemed to be keeping them at bay, when a cloud wrapped the group from the sight of men. thunder roared, lightning glared, the rush of waters blended with the ejaculations of the people and the yet more tempestuous rushing of the rats. accompanied as he was, it is not probable that alexander passed, like dante's sigh, "beyond the sphere that doth all spheres enfold"; but, as he was never again seen on earth, it is not doubted that he attained at least as far as the moon. [footnote: per aver riposo portato fu fra l'anime beate lo spirito di alessandro glorioso; del qual seguiro le sante pedate tre sue familiari e care ancelle, lussuria, simonia, e crudeltate. [--machiavelli, _decennale primo_.]] the rewards of industry in china, under the tang dynasty, early in the seventh century of the christian era, lived a learned and virtuous, but poor mandarin who had three sons, fu-su, tu-sin, and wang-li. fu-su and tu-sin were young men of active minds, always labouring to find out something new and useful. wang-li was clever too, but only in games of skill, in which he attained great proficiency. fu-su and tu-sin continually talked to each other of the wonderful inventions they would make when they arrived at man's estate, and of the wealth and renown they promised themselves thereby. their conversation seldom reached the ears of wang-li, for he rarely lifted his eyes from the chess-board on which he solved his problems. but their father was more attentive, and one day he said: "i fear, my sons, that among your multifarious pursuits and studies you must have omitted to include that of the laws of your country, or you would have learned that fortune is not to be acquired by the means which you have proposed to yourselves." "how so, father?" asked they. "it hath been justly deemed by our ancestors," said the old man, "that the reverence due to the great men who are worshipped in our temples, by reason of our indebtedness to them for the arts of life, could not but become impaired if their posterity were suffered to eclipse their fame by new discoveries, or presumptuously amend what might appear imperfect in their productions. it is therefore, by an edict of the emperor suen, forbidden to invent anything; and by a statute of the emperor wu-chi it is further provided that nothing hitherto invented shall be improved. my predecessor in the small office i hold was deprived of it for saying that in his judgment money ought to be made round instead of square, and i have myself run risk of my life for seeking to combine a small file with a pair of tweezers." "if this is the case," said the young men, "our fatherland is not the place for us." and they embraced their father, and departed. of their brother wang-li they took no farewell, inasmuch as he was absorbed in a chess problem. before separating, they agreed to meet on the same spot after thirty years, with the treasure which they doubted not to have acquired by the exercise of their inventive faculties in foreign lands. they further covenanted that if either had missed his reward the other should share his possessions with him. fu-su repaired to the artists who cut out characters in blocks of hard wood, to the end that books may be printed from the same. when he had fathomed their mystery he betook himself to a brass-founder, and learned how to cast in metal. he then sought a learned man who had travelled much, and made himself acquainted with the greek, persian, and arabic languages. then he cast a number of greek characters in type, and putting them into a bag and providing himself with some wooden letter-tablets of his own carving, he departed to seek his fortune. after innumerable hardships and perils he arrived in the land of persia, and inquired for the great king. "the great king is dead," they told him, "and his head is entirely separated from his body. there is now no king in persia, great or small." "where shall i find another great king?" demanded he. "in the city of alexandria," replied they, "where the commander of the faithful is busy introducing the religion of the prophet." fu-su passed to alexandria, carrying his types and tablets. as he entered the gates he remarked an enormous cloud of smoke, which seemed to darken the whole city. before he could inquire the reason, the guard arrested him as a stranger, and conducted him to the presence of the caliph omar. "know, o caliph," said fu-su, "that my countrymen are at once the wisest of mankind and the stupidest. they have invented an art for the preservation of letters and the diffusion of knowledge, which the sages of greece and india never knew, but they have not learned to take, and they refuse to be taught how to take, the one little step further necessary to render it generally profitable to mankind." and producing his tablets and types, he explained to the caliph the entire mystery of the art of printing. "thou seemest to be ignorant," said omar, "that we have but yesterday condemned and excommunicated all books, and banished the same from the face of the earth, seeing that they contain either that which is contrary to the koran, in which case they are impious, or that which is agreeable to the koran, in which case they are superfluous. thou art further unaware, as it would seem, that the smoke which shrouds the city proceeds from the library of the unbelievers, consumed by our orders. it will be meet to burn thee along with it." "o commander of the faithful," said an officer, "of a surety the last scroll of the accursed ceased to flame even as this infidel entered the city." "if it be so," said omar, "we will not burn him, seeing that we have taken away from him the occasion to sin. yet shall he swallow these little brass amulets of his, at the rate of one a day, and then be banished from the country." the sentence was executed, and fu-su was happy that the court physician condescended to accept his little property in exchange for emetics. he begged his way slowly and painfully back to china, and arrived at the covenanted spot at the expiration of the thirtieth year. his father's modest dwelling had disappeared, and in its place stood a magnificent mansion, around which stretched a park with pavilions, canals, willow-trees, golden pheasants, and little bridges. "tu-sin has surely made his fortune," thought he, "and he will not refuse to share it with me agreeably to our covenant." as he thus reflected he heard a voice at his elbow, and turning round perceived that one in a more wretched plight than himself was asking alms of him. it was tu-sin. the brothers embraced with many tears, and after tu-sin had learned fu-su's history, he proceeded to recount his own. "i repaired," said he, "to those who know the secret of the grains termed fire-dust, which suen has not been able to prevent us from inventing, but of which wu-chi has taken care that we shall make no use, save only for fireworks. having learned their mystery i deposited a certain portion of this fire-dust in hollow tubes which i had constructed of iron and brass, and upon it i further laid leaden balls of a size corresponding to the hollow of the tubes. i then found that by applying a light to the fire-dust at one end of the tube i could send the ball out at the other with such force that it penetrated the cuirasses of three warriors at once. i filled a barrel with the dust, and concealing it and the tubes under carpets which i laid upon the backs of oxen, i set out to the city of constantinople. i will not at present relate my adventures on the journey. suffice it that i arrived at last half dead from fatigue and hardship, and destitute of everything except my merchandise. by bribing an officer with my carpets i was admitted to have speech with the emperor. i found him busily studying a problem in chess. "i told him that i had discovered a secret which would make him the master of the world, and in particular would help him to drive away the saracens, who threatened his empire with destruction. "'thou must perceive,' he said, 'that i cannot possibly attend to thee until i have solved this problem. yet, lest any should say that the emperor neglects his duties, absorbed in idle amusement, i will refer thy invention to the chief armourers of my capital. and he gave me a letter to the armourers, and returned to his problem. and as i quitted the palace bearing the missive, i came upon a great procession. horsemen and running footmen, musicians, heralds, and banner-bearers surrounded a chinaman who sat in the attitude of fo under a golden umbrella upon a richly caparisoned elephant, his pigtail plaited with yellow roses. and the musicians blew and clashed, and the standard-bearers waved their ensigns, and the heralds proclaimed, 'thus shall it be done to the man whom the emperor delights to honour.' and unless i was very greatly mistaken, the face of the chinaman was the face of our brother wang-li. "at another time i would have striven to find what this might mean, but my impatience was great, as also my need and hunger. i sought the chief armourers, and with great trouble brought them all together to give me audience, i produced my tube and fire-dust, and sent my balls with ease through the best armour they could set before me. "' who will want breast-plates now?' cried the chief breast-plate maker. "'or helmets?' exclaimed one who made armour for the head. "'i would not have taken fifty bezants for that shield, and what good is it now?' said the head of the shield trade. "'my swords will be of less account,' said a swordsmith. "'my arrows of none,' lamented an arrow-maker. "''tis villainy,' cried one. "''tis magic,' shouted another. "''tis illusion, as i'm an honest tradesman,' roared a third, and put his integrity to the proof by thrusting a hot iron bar into my barrel. all present rose up in company with the roof of the building, and all perished, except myself, who escaped with the loss of my hair and skin. a fire broke out on the spot, and consumed one-third of the city of constantinople. "i was lying on a prison-bed some time afterwards, partly recovered of my hurts, dolefully listening to a dispute between two of my guards as to whether i ought to be burned or buried alive, when the imperial order for my disposal came down. the gaolers received it with humility, and read 'kick him out of the city.' marvelling at the mildness of the punishment, they nevertheless executed it with so much zeal that i flew into the middle of the bosphorus, where i was picked up by a fishing vessel, and landed on the asiatic coast, whence i have begged my way home. i now propose that we appeal to the pity of the owner of this splendid mansion, who may compassionate us on hearing that we were reared in the cottage which has been pulled down to make room for his palace." they entered the gates, walked timidly up to the house, and prepared to fall at the feet of the master, but did not, for ere they could do so they recognised their brother wang-li. it took wang-li some time to recognise them, but when at length he knew them he hastened to provide for their every want. when they had well eaten and drunk, and had been clad in robes of honour, they imparted their histories, and asked for his. "my brothers," said wang-li, "the noble game of chess, which was happily invented long before the time of the emperor suen, was followed by me solely for its pleasure, and i dreamed not of acquiring wealth by its pursuit until i casually heard one day that it was entirely unknown to the people of the west. even then i thought not of gaining money, but conceived so deep a compassion for those forlorn barbarians that i felt i could know no rest until i should have enlightened them. i accordingly proceeded to the city of constantinople, and was received as a messenger from heaven. to such effect did i labour that ere long the emperor and his officers of state thought of nothing else but playing chess all day and night, and the empire fell into entire confusion, and the saracens mightily prevailed. in consideration of these services the emperor was pleased to bestow those distinguished honours upon me which thou didst witness at his palace gate, dear brother. "after, however, the fire which was occasioned through thy instrumentality, though in no respect by thy fault, the people murmured, and taxed the emperor with seeking to destroy his capital in league with a foreign sorcerer, meaning thee. ere long the chief officers conspired and entered the emperor's apartment, purposing to dethrone him, but he declared that he would in nowise abdicate until he had finished the game of chess he was then playing with me. they looked on, grew interested, began to dispute with one another respecting the moves, and while they wrangled loyal officers entered and made them all captive. this greatly augmented my credit with the emperor, which was even increased when shortly afterwards i played with the saracen admiral blockading the hellespont, and won of him forty corn-ships, which turned the dearth of the city into plenty. "the emperor bade me choose any favour i would, but i said his liberality had left me nothing to ask for except the life of a poor countryman of mine who i had heard was in prison for burning the city. the emperor bade me write his sentence with my own hand. had i known that it was thou, tu-sin, believe me i had shown more consideration for thy person. at length i departed for my native land, loaded with wealth, and travelling most comfortably by relays of swift dromedaries. i returned hither, bought our father's cottage, and on its site erected this palace, where i dwell meditating on the problems of chessplayers and the precepts of the sages, and persuaded that a little thing which the world is willing to receive is better than a great thing which it hath not yet learned to value aright. for the world is a big child, and chooses amusement before instruction." "call you chess an amusement?" asked his brothers. madam lucifer lucifer sat playing chess with man for his soul. the game was evidently going ill for man. he had but pawns left, few and straggling. lucifer had rooks, knights, and, of course, bishops. it was but natural under such circumstances that man should be in no great hurry to move. lucifer grew impatient. "it is a pity," said he at last, "that we did not fix some period within which the player must move, or resign." "oh, lucifer," returned the young man, in heart-rending accents, "it is not the impending loss of my soul that thus unmans me, but the loss of my betrothed. when i think of the grief of the lady adeliza, that paragon of terrestrial loveliness!" tears choked his utterance; lucifer was touched. "is the lady adeliza's loveliness in sooth so transcendent?" he inquired. "she is a rose, a lily, a diamond, a morning star!" "if that is the case," rejoined lucifer, "thou mayest reassure thyself. the lady adeliza shall not want for consolation. i will assume thy shape and woo her in thy stead." the young man hardly seemed to receive all the comfort from this promise which lucifer no doubt designed. he made a desperate move. in an instant the devil checkmated him, and he disappeared. * * * * * "upon my word, if i had known what a business this was going to be, i don't think i should have gone in for it," soliloquised the devil, as, wearing his captive's semblance and installed in his apartments, he surveyed the effects to which he now had to administer. they included coats, shirts, collars, neckties, foils, cigars, and the like _ad libitum_; and very little else except three challenges, ten writs, and seventy-four unpaid bills, elegantly disposed around the looking-glass. to the poor youth's praise be it said, there were no billets-doux, except from the lady adeliza herself. noting the address of these carefully, the devil sallied forth, and nothing but his ignorance of the topography of the hotel, which made him take the back stairs, saved him from the clutches of two bailiffs lurking on the principal staircase. leaping into a cab, he thus escaped a perfumer and a bootmaker, and shortly found himself at the lady adeliza's feet. the truth had not been half told him. such beauty, such wit, such correctness of principle! lucifer went forth from her presence a love-sick fiend. not merlin's mother had produced half the impression upon him; and adeliza on her part had never found her lover one-hundredth part so interesting as he seemed that morning. lucifer proceeded at once to the city, where, assuming his proper shape for the occasion, he negotiated a loan without the smallest difficulty. all debts were promptly discharged, and adeliza was astonished at the splendour and variety of the presents she was constantly receiving. lucifer had all but brought her to name the day, when he was informed that a gentleman of clerical appearance desired to wait upon him. "wants money for a new church or mission, i suppose," said he. "show him up." but when the visitor was ushered in, lucifer found with discomposure that he was no earthly clergyman, but a celestial saint; a saint, too, with whom lucifer had never been able to get on. he had served in the army while on earth, and his address was curt, precise, and peremptory. "i have called," he said, "to notify to you my appointment as inspector of devils." "what!" exclaimed lucifer, in consternation. "to the post of my old friend michael!" "too old," said the saint laconically. "millions of years older than the world. about your age, i think?" lucifer winced, remembering the particular business he was then about. the saint continued: "i am a new broom, and am expected to sweep clean. i warn you that i mean to be strict, and there is one little matter which i must set right immediately. you are going to marry that poor young fellow's betrothed, are you? now you know you cannot take his wife, unless you give him yours." "oh, my dear friend," exclaimed lucifer, "what an inexpressibly blissful prospect you do open unto me!" "i don't know that," said the saint. "i must remind you that the dominion of the infernal regions is unalterably attached to the person of the present queen thereof. if you part with her you immediately lose all your authority and possessions. i don't care a brass button which you do, but you must understand that you cannot eat your cake and have it too. good morning!" who shall describe the conflict in lucifer's bosom? if any stronger passion existed therein at that moment than attachment to adeliza, it was aversion to his consort, and the two combined were well-nigh irresistible. but to disenthrone himself, to descend to the condition of a poor devil! feeling himself incapable of coming to a decision, he sent for belial, unfolded the matter, and requested his advice. "what a shame that our new inspector will not let you marry adeliza!" lamented his counsellor. "if you did, my private opinion is that forty-eight hours afterwards you would care just as much for her as you do now for madam lucifer, neither more nor less. are your intentions really honourable?" "yes," replied lucifer, "it is to be a lucifer match." "the more fool you," rejoined belial. "if you tempted her to commit a sin, she would be yours without any conditions at all." "oh, belial," said lucifer, "i cannot bring myself to be a tempter of so much innocence and loveliness." and he meant what he said. "well then, let me try," proposed belial. "you?" replied lucifer contemptuously; "do you imagine that adeliza would look at _you_?" "why not?" asked belial, surveying himself complacently in the glass. he was humpbacked, squinting, and lame, and his horns stood up under his wig. the discussion ended in a wager after which there was no retreat for lucifer. the infernal iachimo was introduced to adeliza as a distinguished foreigner, and was soon prosecuting his suit with all the success which lucifer had predicted. one thing protected while it baffled him--the entire inability of adeliza to understand what he meant. at length he was constrained to make the matter clear by producing an enormous treasure, which he offered adeliza in exchange for the abandonment of her lover. the tempest of indignation which ensued would have swept away any ordinary demon, but belial listened unmoved. when adeliza had exhausted herself he smilingly rallied her upon her affection for an unworthy lover, of whose infidelity he undertook to give her proof. frantic with jealousy, adeliza consented, and in a trice found herself in the infernal regions. * * * * * adeliza's arrival in pandemonium, as belial had planned, occurred immediately after the receipt of a message from lucifer, in whose bosom love had finally gained the victory, and who had telegraphed his abdication and resignation of madam lucifer to adeliza's betrothed. the poor young man had just been hauled up from the lower depths, and was beset by legions of demons obsequiously pressing all manner of treasures upon his acceptance. he stared, helpless and bewildered, unable to realise his position in the smallest degree. in the background grave and serious demons, the princes of the infernal realm, discussed the new departure, and consulted especially how to break it to madam lucifer--a commission of which no one seemed ambitious. "stay where you are," whispered belial to adeliza; "stir not; you shall put his constancy to the proof within five minutes." not all the hustling, mowing, and gibbering of the fiends would under ordinary circumstances have kept adeliza from her lover's side: but what is all hell to jealousy? in even less time than he had promised belial returned, accompanied by madam lucifer. this lady's black robe, dripping with blood, contrasted agreeably with her complexion of sulphurous yellow; the absence of hair was compensated by the exceptional length of her nails; she was a thousand million years old, and, but for her remarkable muscular vigour, looked every one of them. the rage into which belial's communication had thrown her was something indescribable; but, as her eye fell on the handsome youth, a different order of thoughts seemed to take possession of her mind. "let the monster go!" she exclaimed; "who cares? come, my love, ascend the throne with me, and share the empire and the treasures of thy fond luciferetta." "if you don't, back you go," interjected belial. what might have been the young man's decision if madam lucifer had borne more resemblance to madam vulcan, it would be wholly impertinent to inquire, for the question never arose. "take me away!" he screamed, "take me away, anywhere i anywhere out of her reach! oh, adeliza!" with a bound adeliza stood by his side. she was darting a triumphant glance at the discomfited queen of hell, when suddenly her expression changed, and she screamed loudly. two adorers stood before her, alike in every lineament and every detail of costume, utterly indistinguishable, even by the eye of love. lucifer, in fact, hastening to throw himself at adeliza's feet and pray her to defer his bliss no longer, had been thunderstruck by the tidings of her elopement with belial. fearing to lose his wife and his dominions along with his sweetheart, he had sped to the nether regions with such expedition that he had had no time to change his costume. hence the equivocation which confounded adeliza, but at the same time preserved her from being torn to pieces by the no less mystified madam lucifer. perceiving the state of the case, lucifer with true gentlemanly feeling resumed his proper semblance, and madam lucifer's talons were immediately inserted into his whiskers. "my dear! my love!" he gasped, as audibly as she would let him, "is this the way it welcomes its own lucy-pucy?" "who is that person?" demanded madam lucifer. "i don't know her," screamed the wretched lucifer. "i never saw her before. take her away; shut her up in the deepest dungeon!" "not if i know it," sharply replied madam lucifer, "you can't bear to part with her, can't you? you would intrigue with her under my nose, would you? take that! and that! turn them both out, i say! turn them both out!" "certainly, my dearest love, most certainly," responded lucifer. "oh, sire," cried moloch and beelzebub together, "for heaven's sake let your majesty consider what he is doing. the inspector----" "bother the inspector!" screeched lucifer. "d'ye think i'm not a thousand times more afraid of your mistress than of all the saints in the calendar? there," addressing adeliza and her betrothed, "be off! you'll find all debts paid, and a nice balance at the bank. cut! run!" they did not wait to be told twice. earth yawned. the gates of tartarus stood wide. they found themselves on the side of a steep mountain, down which they scoured madly, hand linked in hand. but fast as they ran, it was long ere they ceased to hear the tongue of madam lucifer. the talismans what a wondrous creature is man! what feats the humblest among us perform, which, if related of another order of beings, we should deem incredible! by what magic could the young student escape the weary old professor, who was prosily proving time merely a form of thought; a proposition of which, to judge by the little value he appeared to set on the subject of his discourse, he must himself have been fully persuaded? without exciting his suspicions in the smallest degree, the student stole away to a region inconceivably remote, and presented himself at the portal of a magnificent palace, guarded by goblins, imps, lions, serpents, and monsters whose uncouthness forbids description. a singular transformation seemed to have befallen the student. in the professor's class he had been noted as timid, awkward, and painfully respectful. he now strode up with an air of alacrity and defiance, brandishing a roll of parchments, and confronted the seven principal goblins, by whom he was successively interrogated. "hast thou undergone the seven probations?" "yes," said the student. "hast thou swallowed the ninety-nine poisons?" "ninety-nine times each," said the student. "hast thou wedded a salamander, and divorced her?" "i have," said the student. "art thou at this present time betrothed to a vampire?" "i am," said the student. "hast thou sacrificed thy mother and sister to the infernal powers?" "of course," said the student, "hast thou attestations of all these circumstances under the hands and seals of a thousand and one demons?" the student displayed his parchments. "thou hast undergone every trial," pronounced the seventh goblin; "thou hast won the right to enter the treasury of the treasurer of all things, and to choose from it any one talisman at thy liking." the imps cheered, the goblins congratulated, the serpents shrank hissing away, the lions fawned upon the student, a centaur bore him upon his back to the treasurer's presence. the treasurer, an old bent man, with a single lock of silvery hair, received the adventurer with civility. "i have come," said the student, "for the talismans in thy keeping, to the choice among which i have entitled myself." "thou hast fairly earned them," replied the old man, "and i may not say thee nay. thou canst, however, only possess any of them in the shape which it has received at my hands during the long period for which these have remained in my custody." "i must submit to the condition," said the student. "behold, then, aladdin's lamp," said the ancient personage, tendering a tiny vase hardly bigger than a pill-box, containing some grains of a coarse, rusty powder. "aladdin's lamp!" cried the student. "all of it, at least, that i have seen fit to preserve," replied the old man. "thou art but just in time for this even. it is proper to apprise thee that the virtues of the talisman having necessarily dwindled with its bulk, it is at present incompetent to evoke any genie, and can at most summon an imp, of whose company thou wilt never be able to rid thyself, inasmuch as the least friction will inevitably destroy what little of the talisman remains." "confusion!" cried the young man, "show me, then, aladdin's ring." "here," replied the old man, producing a plain gold hoop. "this, at least," asked the student, "is not devoid of virtue?" "assuredly not, if placed on the finger of some fair lady. for, its magic properties depending wholly upon certain engraved characters, which i have gradually obliterated, it is at present unadapted to any other use than that of a wedding-ring, which it would subserve to admiration." "produce another talisman," commanded the youth. "these," said the ancient treasurer, holding up two shapeless pieces of leather, "are the shoes of swiftness, incomparable until i wore them out." "this, at least, is bright and weighty," exclaimed the student, as the old man displayed the sword of sharpness. "in truth a doughty weapon," returned the treasurer, "if wielded by a stronger arm than thine, for it will no longer fly in the air and smite off heads of its own accord, since the new blade hath been fitted to the new hilt." after a hasty inspection of the empty frame of a magic mirror, and a fragment of the original setting of solomon's seal, the youth's eye lighted upon a volume full of mysterious characters. "whose book is this?" he inquired. "heavens, it is michael scott's!" "even so," returned the venerable man, "and its spells have lost nothing of their efficacy. but the last leaf, containing the formula for dismissing spirits after they have been summoned from the nether world, hath been removed by me. inattention to this circumstance hath caused several most respectable magicians to be torn in pieces, and hath notably increased the number of demons at large." "thou old villain!" shouted the exasperated youth, "is this the way in which the treasures in thy custody are protected by thee? deemest thou that i will brook being thus cheated of my dear-bought talisman? nay, but i will deprive thee of thine. give me that lock of hair." "o good youth," supplicated the now terrified and humbled old man, "bereave me not of the source of all my power. think, only think of the consequences!" "i will not think," roared the youth. "deliver it to me, or i'll rend it from thy head with my own hands." with a heavy sigh, time clipped the lock from his brow and handed it to the youth, who quitted the place unmolested by any of the monsters. entering the great city, the student made his way by narrow and winding streets until, after a considerable delay, he emerged into a large public square. it was crowded with people, gazing intently at the afternoon sky, and the air was rife with a confused murmur of altercations and exclamations. "it is." "no, i tell you, it is impossible." "it cannot be." "i see it move." "no, it's only my eyes are dazzled." "who could have believed it?" "whatever will happen next?" following the gaze of the people, the youth discovered that the object of their attention was the sun, in whose aspect, however, he could discover nothing unusual. "no," a man by him was saying, "it positively has not moved for an hour. i have my instruments by me. i cannot possibly be mistaken." "it ought to have been behind the houses long ago," said another. "what's o'clock?" asked a third. the inquiry made many turn their eyes towards the great clock in the square. it had stopped an hour ago. the hands were perfectly motionless. all who had watches simultaneously drew them from their pockets. the motion of each was suspended; so intense, in turn, was the hush of the breathless crowd, that you could have heard a single tick, but there was none to hear. "time is no more," proclaimed a leader among the people. "i am a ruined man," lamented a watchmaker. "and i," ejaculated a maker of almanacks. "what of quarter-day?" inquired a landlord and a tenant simultaneously. "we shall never see the moon again," sobbed a pair of lovers. "it is well this did not happen at night," observed an optimist. "indeed?" questioned the director of a gas company. "i told you the last day would come in our time," said a preacher. it was still long before the people realised that the trance of time had paralysed his daughter mutability as well. every operation depending on her silent processes was arrested. the unborn could not come to life. the sick could not die. the human frame could not waste. every one in the enjoyment of health and strength felt assured of the perpetual possession of these blessings, unless he should meet with accident or violent death. but all growth ceased, and all dissolution was stayed. mothers looked with despair on infants who could never be weaned or learn to walk. expectant heirs gazed with dismay on immortal fathers and uncles. the reigning beauties, the fashionable boxers and opera dancers were in the highest feather. nor did the intellectual less rejoice, counting on endless life and unimpaired faculties, and vowing to extend human knowledge beyond the conceivable. the poor and the outcast, the sick and the maimed, the broken-hearted and the dying made, indeed, a dismal outcry, the sincerity of which was doubted by some persons. as for our student, forgetting his faithful vampire, he made his way to a young lady of great personal attractions, to whom he had been attached in former days. the sight of her beauty, and the thought that it would be everlasting, revived his passion. to convince her of the perpetuity of her charms, and establish a claim upon her gratitude, he cautiously revealed to her that he was the author of this blissful state of things, and that time's hair was actually in his possession. "oh, you dear good man!" she exclaimed, "how vastly i am obliged to you! ferdinand will never forsake me now." "ferdinand! leonora, i thought you cared for _me_." "oh!" she said, "you young men of science are so conceited!" the discomfited lover fled from the house, and sought the treasurer's palace. it had vanished with all its monsters. long did he roam the city ere he mixed again with the crowd, which an old meteorologist was addressing energetically. "i ask you one thing," he was saying. "will it ever rain again?" "certainly not," replied a geologist and a metaphysician together. "rain being an agent of time in the production of change, there can be no place for it under the present dispensation." "then will not the crops be burned up? will the fruits mature? are they not withering already? what of wells and rivers, and the mighty sea itself? who will feed your cattle? and who will feed _you_?" "this concerns us," said the butchers and bakers. "us also," added the fishmongers. "i always thought," said a philosopher, "that this phenomenon must be the work of some malignant wizard." "show us the wizard that we may slay him," roared the mob. leonora had been communicative, and the student was immediately identified by twenty persons. the lock of hair was found upon him, and was held up in sight of the multitude. "kill him!" "burn him!" "crucify him!" "it moves! it moves!" cried another division of the crowd. all eyes were bent on the hitherto stationary luminary. it was moving--no, it wasn't; yes, it certainly was. dared men believe that their shadows were actually lengthening? was the sun's rim really drawing nigh yonder great edifice? that muffled sound from the vast, silent multitude was, doubtless, the quick beating of innumerable hearts; but that sharper note? could it be the ticking of watches? suddenly all the public clocks clanged the first stroke of an hour--an absurdly wrong hour, but it was an hour. no mortal heard the second stroke, drowned in universal shouts of joy and gratitude. the student mingled with the mass, no man regarding him. when the people had somewhat recovered from their emotion, they fell to disputing as to the cause of the last marvel. no scientific man could get beyond a working hypothesis. the mystery was at length solved by a very humble citizen, a barber. "why," he said, "the old gentleman's hair has grown again!" and so it had! and so it was that the unborn came to life, the dying gave up the ghost, leonora pulled out a grey hair, and the student told the professor his dream. the elixir of life the aged philosopher aboniel inhabited a lofty tower in the city of balkh, where he devoted himself to the study of chemistry and the occult sciences. no one was ever admitted to his laboratory. yet aboniel did not wholly shun intercourse with mankind, but, on the contrary, had seven pupils, towardly youths belonging to the noblest families of the city, whom he instructed at stated times in philosophy and all lawful knowledge, reserving the forbidden lore of magic and alchemy for himself. but on a certain day he summoned his seven scholars to the mysterious apartment. they entered with awe and curiosity, but perceived nothing save the sage standing behind a table, on which were placed seven crystal phials, filled with a clear liquid resembling water. "ye know, my sons," he began, "with what ardour i am reputed to have striven to penetrate the hidden secrets of nature, and to solve the problems which have allured and baffled the sages of all time. in this rumour doth not err: such hath ever been my object; but, until yesterday, my fortune hath been like unto theirs who have preceded me. the little i could accomplish seemed as nothing in comparison with what i was compelled to leave unachieved. even now my success is but partial. i have not learned to make gold; the talisman of solomon is not mine; nor can i recall the principle of life to the dead, or infuse it into inanimate matter. but if i cannot create, i can preserve. i have found the elixir of life." the sage paused to examine the countenances of his scholars. upon them he read extreme surprise, undoubting belief in the veracity of their teacher, and the dawning gleam of a timid hope that they themselves might become participators in the transcendent discovery he proclaimed. addressing himself to the latter sentiment--"i am willing," he continued, "to communicate this secret to you, if such be your desire." an unanimous exclamation assured him that there need be no uncertainty on this point. "but remember," he resumed, "that this knowledge, like all knowledge, has its disadvantages and its drawbacks. a price must be paid, and when ye come to learn it, it may well be that it will seem too heavy. understand that the stipulations i am about to propound are not of my imposing; the secret was imparted to me by spirits not of a benevolent order, and under conditions with which i am constrained strictly to comply. understand also that i am not minded to employ this knowledge on my own behalf. my fourscore years' acquaintance with life has rendered me more solicitous for methods of abbreviating existence, than of prolonging it. it may be well for you if your twenty years' experience has led you to the same conclusion." there was not one of the young men who would not readily have admitted, and indeed energetically maintained, the emptiness, vanity, and general unsatisfactoriness of life; for such had ever been the doctrine of their venerated preceptor. their present behaviour, however, would have convinced him, had he needed conviction, of the magnitude of the gulf between theory and practice, and the feebleness of intellectual persuasion in presence of innate instinct. with one voice they protested their readiness to brave any conceivable peril, and undergo any test which might be imposed as a condition of participation in their master's marvellous secret. "so be it," returned the sage, "and now hearken to the conditions. "each of you must select at hazard, and immediately quaff one of these seven phials, in one of which only is contained the elixir of life. far different are the contents of the others; they are the six most deadly poisons which the utmost subtlety of my skill has enabled me to prepare, and science knows no antidote to any of them. the first scorches up the entrails as with fire; the second slays by freezing every vein, and benumbing every nerve; the third by frantic convulsions. happy in comparison he who drains the fourth, for he sinks dead upon the ground immediately, smitten as it were with lightning. nor do i overmuch commiserate him to whose lot the fifth may fall, for slumber descends upon him forthwith, and he passes away in painless oblivion. but wretched he who chooses the sixth, whose hair falls from his head, whose skin peels from his body, and who lingers long in excruciating agonies, a living death. the seventh phial contains the object of your desire. stretch forth your hands, therefore, simultaneously to this table; let each unhesitatingly grasp and intrepidly drain the potion which fate may allot him, and be the quality of his fortune attested by the result." the seven disciples contemplated each other with visages of sevenfold blankness. they next unanimously directed their gaze towards their preceptor, hoping to detect some symptom of jocularity upon his venerable features. nothing could be descried thereon but the most imperturbable solemnity, or, if perchance anything like an expression of irony lurked beneath this, it was not such irony as they wished to see. lastly, they scanned the phials, trusting that some infinitesimal distinction might serve to discriminate the elixir from the poisons. but no, the vessels were indistinguishable in external appearance, and the contents of each were equally colourless and transparent. "well," demanded aboniel at length, with real or assumed surprise, "wherefore tarry ye thus? i deemed to have ere this beheld six of you in the agonies of death!" this utterance did not tend to encourage the seven waverers. two of the boldest, indeed, advanced their hands half-way to the table, but perceiving that their example was not followed, withdrew them in some confusion. "think not, great teacher, that i personally set store by this worthless existence," said one of their number at last, breaking the embarrassing silence, "but i have an aged mother, whose life is bound up with mine." "i," said the second, "have an unmarried sister, for whom it is meet that i should provide." "i," said the third, "have an intimate and much-injured friend, whose cause i may in nowise forsake." "and i an enemy upon whom i would fain be avenged," said the fourth. "my life," said the fifth, "is wholly devoted to science. can i consent to lay it down ere i have sounded the seas of the seven climates?" "or i, until i have had speech of the man in the moon?" inquired the sixth. "i," said the seventh, "have neither mother nor sister, friends nor enemies, neither doth my zeal for science equal that of my fellows. but i have all the greater respect for my own skin; yea, the same is exceedingly precious in my sight." "the conclusion of the whole matter, then," summed up the sage, "is that not one of you will make a venture for the cup of immortality?" the young men remained silent and abashed, unwilling to acknowledge the justice of their master's taunt, and unable to deny it. they sought for some middle path, which did not readily present itself. "may we not," said one at last, "may we not cast lots, and each take a phial in succession, as destiny may appoint?" "i have nothing against this," replied aboniel, "only remember that the least endeavour to contravene the conditions by amending the chance of any one of you, will ensure the discomfiture of all." the disciples speedily procured seven quills of unequal lengths, and proceeded to draw them in the usual manner. the shortest remained in the hand of the holder, he who had pleaded his filial duty to his mother. he approached the table with much resolution, and his hand advanced half the distance without impediment. then, turning to the holder of the second quill; the man with the sister, he said abruptly: "the relation between mother and son is notoriously more sacred and intimate than that which obtains between brethren. were it not therefore fitting that thou shouldst encounter the first risk in my stead?" "the relationship between an aged mother and an adult son," responded the youth addressed, in a sententious tone, "albeit most holy, cannot in the nature of things be durable, seeing that it must shortly be dissolved by death. whereas the relationship between brother and sister may endure for many years, if such be the will of allah. it is therefore proper that thou shouldst first venture the experiment." "have i lived to hear such sophistry from a pupil of the wise aboniel!" exclaimed the first speaker, in generous indignation. "the maternal relationship--" "a truce to this trifling," cried the other six; "fulfil the conditions, or abandon the task." thus urged, the scholar approached his hand to the table, and seized one of the phials. scarcely, however, had he done so, when he fancied that he detected something of a sinister colour in the liquid, which distinguished it, in his imagination, from the innocent transparency of the rest. he hastily replaced it, and laid hold of the next. at that moment a blaze of light burst forth upon them, and, thunderstruck, the seven scholars were stretched senseless on the ground. on regaining their faculties they found themselves at the outside of aboniel's dwelling, stunned by the shock, and humiliated by the part they had played. they jointly pledged inviolable secrecy, and returned to their homes. the secret of the seven was kept as well as the secret of seven can be expected to be; that is to say, it was not, ere the expiration of seven days, known to more than six-sevenths of the inhabitants of balkh. the last of these to become acquainted with it was the sultan, who immediately despatched his guards to apprehend the sage, and confiscate the elixir. failing to obtain admission at aboniel's portal, they broke it open, and, on entering his chamber, found him in a condition which more eloquently than any profession bespoke his disdain for the life-bestowing draught. he was dead in his chair. before him, on the table, stood the seven phials, six full as previously, the seventh empty. in his hand was a scroll inscribed as follows: "six times twice six years have i striven after knowledge, and i now bequeath to the world the fruit of my toil, being six poisons. one more deadly i might have added, but i have refrained, "write upon my tomb, that here he lies who forbore to perpetuate human affliction, and bestowed a fatal boon where alone it could be innoxious." the intruders looked at each other, striving to penetrate the sense of aboniel's last words. while yet they gazed, they were startled by a loud crash from an adjacent closet, and were even more discomposed as a large monkey bounded forth, whose sleek coat, exuberant playfulness, and preternatural agility convinced all that the deceased philosopher, under an inspiration of supreme irony, had administered to the creature every drop of the elixir of life. the poet of panopolis i although in a manner retired from the world during the fifth and sixth christian centuries, the banished gods did not neglect to keep an eye on human affairs, interesting themselves in any movement which might seem to afford them a chance of regaining their lost supremacy, or in any person whose conduct evinced regret at their dethronement. they deeply sympathised with the efforts of their votary pamprepius to turn the revolt of illus to their advantage, and excused the low magical arts to which he stooped as a necessary concession to the spirit of a barbarous age. they ministered invisibly to damascius and his companions on their flight into persia, alleviating the hardships under which the frames of the veteran philosophers might otherwise have sunk. it was not, indeed, until the burning of the alexandrian library that they lost all heart and lapsed into the chrysalis-like condition in which they remained until tempted forth by the young sunshine of the renaissance. such a phenomenon for the fifth century as the dionysiaca of nonnus of panopolis could not fail to excite their most lively interest. forty-eight books of verse on the exploits of bacchus in the age of pugnacious prelates and filthy coenobites, of imbecile rulers and rampant robbers, of the threatened dissolution of every tie, legal, social, or political; an age of earthquake, war, and famine! bacchus, who is known from aristophanes not to have excelled in criticism, protested that his laureate was greater than homer; and, though homer could not go quite so far as this, he graciously conceded that if he had himself been an egyptian of the fifth century, with a faint glimmering of the poetical art, and encumbered with more learning than he knew how to use, he might have written almost as badly as his modern representative. more impartial critics judged nonnus's achievement more favourably, and all agreed that his steadfastness in the faith deserved some special mark of distinction. the muses under pallas's direction (being themselves a little awkward in female accomplishments) embroidered him a robe; hermes made a lyre, and hephaestus forged a plectrum. apollo added a chaplet of laurel, and bacchus one of ivy. whether from distrust of hermes' integrity, or wishing to make the personal acquaintance of his follower, phoebus volunteered to convey the testimonial in person, and accordingly took his departure for the egyptian thebaid. as apollo fared through the sandy and rugged wilderness under the blazing sun of an african summer afternoon, he observed with surprise a vast crowd of strange figures swarming about the mouth of a cavern like bees clustering at the entrance to a hive. on a nearer approach he identified them as a posse of demons besetting a hermit. words cannot describe the enormous variety of whatever the universe holds of most heterogeneous. naked women of surpassing loveliness displayed their charms to the anchorite's gaze, sturdy porters bent beneath loads of gold which they heaped at his feet, other shapes not alien from humanity allured his appetite with costly dishes or cooling drinks, or smote at him with swords, or made feints at his eyes with spears, or burned sulphur under his nose, or displayed before him scrolls of poetry or learning, or shrieked blasphemies in his ears, or surveyed him from a little distance with glances of leering affection; while a motley crowd of goblins, wearing the heads of boars or lions, or whisking the tails of dragons, winged, or hoofed, or scaled, or feathered, or all at once, incessantly jostled and wrangled with each other and their betters, mopping and mowing, grunting and grinning, snapping, snarling, constantly running away and returning like gnats dancing over a marsh. the holy man sat doggedly at the entrance of his cavern, with an expression of fathomless stupidity, which seemed to defy all the fiends of the thebaid to get an idea into his head, or make him vary his attitude by a single inch. "these people did not exist in our time," said apollo aloud, "or at least they knew their place, and behaved themselves." "sir," said a comparatively grave and respectable demon, addressing the stranger, "i should wish your peregrinity to understand that these imps are mere schoolboys--my pupils, in fact. when their education has made further progress they will be more mannerly, and will comprehend the folly of pestering an unintellectual old gentleman like this worthy pachymius with beauty for which he has no eyes, and gold for which he has no use, and dainties for which he has no palate, and learning for which he has no head. but _i'll_ wake him up!" and waving his pupils away, the paedagogic fiend placed himself at the anchorite's ear, and shouted into it-- "nonnus is to be bishop of panopolis!" the hermit's features were instantly animated by an expression of envy and hatred. "nonnus!" he exclaimed, "the heathen poet, to have the see of panopolis, of which _i_ was promised the reversion!" "my dear sir," suggested apollo, "it is all very well to enliven the reverend eremite; but don't you think it is rather a liberty to make such jokes at the expense of my good friend nonnus?" "there is no liberty," said the demon, "for there is no joke. recanted on monday. baptized yesterday. ordained to-day. to be consecrated to-morrow." the anchorite poured forth a torrent of the choicest ecclesiastical curses, until he became speechless from exhaustion, and apollo, profiting by the opportunity, addressed the demon: "would it be an unpardonable breach of politeness, respected sir, if i ventured to hint that the illusions your pupils have been trying to impose upon this venerable man have in some small measure impaired the confidence with which i was originally inspired by your advantageous personal appearance?" "not in the least," replied the demon, "especially as i can easily make my words good. if you and pachymius will mount my back i will transport you to panopolis, where you can verify my assertion for yourselves." the deity and the anchorite promptly consented, and seated themselves on the demon's shoulders. the shadow of the fiend's expanded wings fell black and vast on the fiery sand, but diminished and became invisible as he soared to a prodigious height, to escape observation from below. by-and-by the sun's glowing ball touched earth at the extremity of the horizon; it disappeared, the fires of sunset burned low in the west, and the figures of the demon and his freight showed like a black dot against a lake of green sky, growing larger as he cautiously stooped to earth. grazing temples, skimming pyramids, the party came to ground in the precincts of panopolis, just in time to avoid the rising moon that would have betrayed them. the demon immediately disappeared. apollo hastened off to demand an explanation from nonnus, while pachymius repaired to a neighbouring convent, peopled, as he knew, by a legion of sturdy monks, ever ready to smite and be smitten in the cause of orthodoxy. ii nonnus sat in his study, wrinkling his brow as he polished his verses by the light of a small lamp. a large scroll lay open on his knees, the contents of which seemed to afford him little satisfaction. forty-eight more scrolls, resplendent with silver knobs and coquettishly tied with purple cord, reposed in an adjoining book-case; the forty-eight books, manifestly, of the panopolitan bard's dionysiaca. homer, euripides, and other poets lay on the floor, having apparently been hurriedly dislodged to make room for divers liturgies and lives of the saints. a set of episcopal robes depended from a hook, and on a side table stood half-a-dozen mitres, which, to all appearance, the designated prelate had been trying on. "nonnus," said phoebus, passing noiselessly through the unresisting wall, "the tale of thy apostasy is then true?" it would be difficult to determine whether surprise, delight, or dismay preponderated in nonnus's expression as he lifted up his eyes and recognised the god of poetry. he had just presence of mind to shuffle his scroll under an enormous dictionary ere he fell at apollo's feet. "o phoebus," he exclaimed, "hadst thou come a week ago!" "it is true, then?" said apollo. "thou forsakest me and the muses. thou sidest with them who have broken our statues, unroofed our temples, desecrated our altars, and banished us from among mankind. thou rejectest the glory of standing alone in a barbarous age as the last witness to culture and civilisation. thou despisest the gifts of the gods and the muses, of which i am even now the bearer. thou preferrest the mitre to the laurel chaplet, and the hymns of gregory to the epics of homer?" "o phoebus," replied nonnus, "were it any god but thou, i should bend before him in silence, having nought to reply. but thou art a poet, and thou understandest the temper of a poet. thou knowest how beyond other men he is devoured by the craving for sympathy. this and not vulgar vanity is his motive of action; his shaft is launched in vain unless he can deem it embedded in the heart of a friend. thou mayest well judge what scoffings and revilings my dionysiac epic has brought upon me in this evil age; yet, had this been all, peradventure i might have borne it. but it was not all. the gentle, the good, the affectionate, they who in happier times would have been my audience, came about me, saying, nonnus, why sing the strains against which we must shut our ears? sing what we may listen to, and we will love and honour thee. i could not bear the thought of going to my grave without having awakened an echo of sympathy, and weakly but not basely i have yielded, given them what they craved, and suffered them, since the muses' garland is not theirs to bestow, to reward me with a mitre." "and what demanded they?" asked apollo. "oh, a mere romance! something entirely fabulous." "i must see it," persisted apollo; and nonnus reluctantly disinterred his scroll from under the big dictionary, and handed it up, trembling like a schoolboy who anticipates a castigation for a bad exercise. "what trash have we here?" cried phoebus-- [greek: "achronos æn, akichætos, en arrætoos logos archæ,] [greek: 'isophuæs genetæros omælikos tios amætoor,] [greek: kai logos antophygoio theou, phoos, ek phaeos phoos.] "if it isn't the beginning of the gospel of john! thy impiety is worse than thy poetry!" apollo cast the scroll indignantly to the ground. his countenance wore an expression so similar to that with which he is represented in act to smite the python, that nonnus judged it prudent to catch up his manuscript and hold it shield-wise before his face. "thou doest well," said apollo, laughing bitterly; "that rampart is indeed impenetrable to my arrows." nonnus seemed about to fall prostrate, when a sharp rap came to the door. "that is the governor's knock," he exclaimed. "do not forsake me utterly, o phoebus!" but as he turned to open the door, apollo vanished. the governor entered, a sagacious, good-humoured-looking man in middle life. "who was with thee just now?" he asked. "methought i heard voices." "merely the muse," explained nonnus, "with whom i am wont to hold nocturnal communings." "indeed!" replied the governor. "then the muse has done well to take herself off, and will do even better not to return. bishops must have no flirtations with muses, heavenly or earthly--not that i am now altogether certain that thou _wilt_ be a bishop." "how so?" asked nonnus, not without a feeling of relief. "imagine, my dear friend," returned the governor, "who should turn up this evening but that sordid anchorite pachymius, to whom the see was promised indeed, but who was reported to have been devoured by vermin in the desert. the rumour seemed so highly plausible that it must be feared that sufficient pains were not taken to verify it--cannot have been, in fact; for, as i said, here he comes, having been brought, as he affirms, through the air by an angel. little would it have signified if he had come by himself, but he is accompanied by three hundred monks carrying cudgels, who threaten an insurrection if he is not consecrated on the spot. my friend the archbishop and i are at our wits' end: we have set our hearts on having a gentleman over the diocese, but we cannot afford to have tumults reported at constantinople. at last, mainly through the mediation of a sable personage whom no one seems to know, but who approves himself most intelligent and obliging, the matter is put off till to-morrow, when them and pachymius are to compete for the bishopric in public on conditions not yet settled, but which our swarthy friend undertakes to arrange to every one's satisfaction. so keep up a good heart, and don't run away in any case. i know thou art timid, but remember that there is no safety for thee but in victory. if thou yieldest thou wilt be beheaded by me, and if thou art defeated thou wilt certainly be burned by pachymius." with this incentive to intrepidity the governor withdrew, leaving the poor poet in a pitiable state between remorse and terror. one thing alone somewhat comforted him! the mitres had vanished, and the gifts of the gods lay on the table in their place, whence he concluded that a friendly power might yet be watching over him. iii next morning all panopolis was in an uproar. it was generally known that the pretensions of the candidates for the episcopate would be decided by public competition, and it was rumoured that this would partake of the nature of an ordeal by fire and water. nothing further had transpired except that the arrangements had been settled by the governor and archbishop in concert with two strangers, a dingy libyan and a handsome young greek, neither of whom was known in the city, but in both of whom the authorities seemed to repose entire confidence. at the appointed time the people flocked into the theatre, and found the stage already occupied by the parties chiefly concerned. the governor and the archbishop sat in the centre on their tribunals: the competitors stood on each side, pachymius backed by the demon, nonnus by apollo; both these supporters, of course, appearing to the assembly in the light of ordinary mortals. nonnus recognised apollo perfectly, but pachymius's limited powers of intelligence seemed entirely engrossed by the discomfort visibly occasioned him by the proximity of an enormous brass vessel of water, close to which burned a bright fire. nonnus was also ill at ease, and continually directed his attention to a large package, of the contents of which he seemed instinctively cognisant. all being ready, the governor rose from his seat, and announced that, with the sanction of his grace the archbishop, the invidious task of determining between the claims of two such highly qualified competitors had been delegated to two gentlemen in the enjoyment of his full confidence, who would proceed to apply fitting tests to the respective candidates. should one fail and the other succeed, the victor would of course be instituted; should both undergo the probation successfully, new criterions of merit would be devised; should both fall short, both would be set aside, and the disputed mitre would be conferred elsewhere. he would first summon nonnus, long their fellow-citizen, and now their fellow-christian, to submit himself to the test proposed. apollo now rose, and proclaimed in an audible voice, "by virtue of the authority committed to me i call upon nonnus of panopolis, candidate for the bishopric of his native city, to demonstrate his fitness for the same by consigning to the flames with his own hands the forty-eight execrable books of heathen poetry composed by him in the days of his darkness and blindness, but now without doubt as detestable to him as to the universal body of the faithful." so saying, he made a sign to an attendant, the wrapping of the package fell away, and the forty-eight scrolls of the dionysiaca, silver knobs, purple cords, and all, came to view. "burn my poem!" exclaimed nonnus. "destroy the labours of twenty-four years! bereave egypt of its homer! erase the name of nonnus from the tablet of time!" "how so, while thou hast the paraphrase of st. john?" demanded apollo maliciously. "indeed, good youth," said the governor, who wished to favour nonnus, "methinks the condition is somewhat exorbitant. a single book might suffice, surely!" "i am quite content," replied apollo. "if he consents to burn any of his books he is no poet, and i wash my hands of him." "come, nonnus," cried the governor, "make haste; one book will do as well as another. hand them up here." "it must be with his own hands, please your excellency," said apollo. "then," cried the governor, pitching to the poet the first scroll brought to him, "the thirteenth book. who cares about the thirteenth book? pop it in!" "the thirteenth book!" exclaimed nonnus, "containing the contest between wine and honey, without which my epic becomes totally and entirely unintelligible!" "this, then," said the governor, picking out another, which chanced to be the seventeenth. "in my seventeenth book," objected nonnus, "bacchus plants vines in india, and the superiority of wine to milk is convincingly demonstrated." "well," rejoined the governor, "what say you to the twenty-second?" "with my hamadryad! i can never give up my hamadryad!" "then," said the governor, contemptuously hurling the whole set in the direction of nonnus, "burn which you will, only burn!" the wretched poet sat among his scrolls looking for a victim. all his forty-eight children were equally dear to his parental heart. the cries of applause and derision from the spectators, and the formidable bellowings of the exasperated monks who surrounded pachymius, did not tend to steady his nerves, or render the task of critical discrimination the easier. "i won't! i won't!" he exclaimed at last, starting up defiantly. "let the bishopric go to the devil! any one of my similes is worth all the bishoprics in egypt!" "out on the vanity of these poets!" exclaimed the disappointed governor. "it is not vanity," said apollo, "it is paternal affection; and being myself a sufferer from the same infirmity, i rejoice to find him my true son after all." "well," said the governor, turning to the demon: "it is thy man's turn now. trot him out!" "brethren," said the demon to the assembly, "it is meet that he who aspires to the office of bishop should be prepared to give evidence of extraordinary self-denial. ye have seen even our weak brother nonnus adoring what he hath burned, albeit as yet unwilling to burn what he hath adored. how much more may be reasonably expected of our brother pachymius, so eminent for sanctity! i therefore call upon him to demonstrate his humility and self-renunciation, and effectually mortify the natural man, by washing himself in this ample vessel provided for the purpose" "wash myself!" exclaimed pacyhmius, with a vivacity of which he had previously shown no token. "destroy at one splash the sanctity of fifty-seven years! avaunt! thou subtle enemy of my salvation! i know thee who thou art, the demon who brought me hither on his back yesterday." "i thought it had been an angel," said the governor. "a demon in the disguise of an angel of light," said pachymius. a tumultuous discussion arose among pachymius's supporters, some extolling his fortitude, others blaming his wrongheadedness. "what!" said he to the latter, "would ye rob me of my reputation? shall it be written of me, the holy pachymius abode in the precepts of the eremites so long as he dwelt in the desert where no water was, but as soon as he came within sight of a bath, he stumbled and fell?" "oh, father," urged they, "savoureth not this of vaingloriousness? the demon in the guise of an angel of light, as thou so well saidest even now. be strong. quit thyself valiantly. think of the sufferings of the primitive confessors." "st. john was cast into a caldron of boiling oil," said one. "st. apocryphus was actually drowned," said another. "i have reason to believe," said a third, "that the loathsomeness of ablution hath been greatly exaggerated by the heretics." "i know it has," said another. "i _have_ washed myself once, though ye might not think it, and can assert that it is by no means as disagreeable as one supposes." "that is just what i dread," said pachymius. "little by little, one might positively come to like it! we should resist the beginnings of evil." all this time the crowd of his supporters had been pressing upon the anchorite, and had imperceptibly forced him nearer the edge of the vessel, purposing at a convenient season to throw him in. he was now near enough to catch a glimpse of the limpid element. recoiling in horror, he collected all his energies, and with head depressed towards his chest, and hands thrust forth as if to ward off pollution--butting, kicking, biting the air--he rushed forwards, and with a preternatural force deserving to be enumerated among his miracles, fairly overthrew the enormous vase, the contents streaming on the crowd in front of the stage. "take me to my hermitage!" he screamed. "i renounce the bishopric. take me to my hermitage!" "amen," responded the demon, and, assuming his proper shape, he took pachymius upon his back and flew away with him amid the cheers of the multitude. pachymius was speedily deposited at the mouth of his cavern, where he received the visits of the neighbouring anchorites, who came to congratulate him on the constancy with which he had sustained his fiery, or rather watery trial. he spent most of his remaining days in the society of the devil, on which account he was canonised at his death. "o phoebus," said nonnus, when they were alone, "impose upon me any penance thou wilt, so i may but regain thy favour and that of the muses. but before all things let me destroy my paraphrase." "thou shalt not destroy it," said phoebus, "thou shalt publish it. that shall be thy penance." and so it is that the epic on the exploits of bacchus and the paraphrase of st. john's gospel have alike come down to us as the work of nonnus, whose authorship of both learned men have never been able to deny, having regard to the similarity of style, but never could explain until the facts above narrated came to light in one of the fayoum papyri recently acquired by the archduke rainer. the purple head half ignorant, they turned an easy wheel that set sharp racks at work to pinch and peel. i in the heyday of the emperor aurelian's greatness, when his strong right arm propped rome up, and hewed palmyra down, when he surrounded his capital with walls fifty miles in circuit, and led tetricus and zenobia in triumph through its streets, and distributed elephants among the senators, and laid etruria out in vineyards, and contemplated in leisure moments the suppression of christianity as a subordinate detail of administration, a mere ripple on the broad ocean of his policy--at this period bahram the first, king of persia, naturally became disquieted in his mind. "this upstart soldier of fortune," reflected he, "has an unseemly habit of overcoming and leading captive legitimate princes; thus prejudicing divine right in the eyes of the vulgar. the skin of his predecessor valerian, curried and stuffed with straw, hangs to this hour in the temple at ctesiphon, a pleasing spectacle to the immortal gods. how would my own skin appear in the temple of jupiter capitolinus? this must not be. i will send an embassy to him, and impress him with my greatness. but how?" he accordingly convoked his counsellors; the viziers, the warriors, the magi, the philosophers; and addressed them thus: "the king deigns to consult ye touching a difficult matter. i would flatter the pride of rome, without lowering the pride of persia. i would propitiate aurelian, and at the same time humble him. how shall this be accomplished?" the viziers, the warriors, and the magi answered not a word. unbroken silence reigned in the assembly, until the turn came to the sage marcobad, who, prostrating himself, said, "o king, live for ever! in ancient times, as hath been delivered by our ancestors, persians were instructed in three accomplishments--to ride, to draw the bow, and to speak the truth. persia still rides and shoots; truth-speaking (praised be ormuzd!) she hath discontinued as unbefitting an enlightened nation. thou needest not, therefore, scruple to circumvent aurelian. offer him that which thou knowest will not be found in his treasury, seeing that it is unique in thine own; giving him, at the same time, to understand that it is the ordinary produce of thy dominions. so, while rejoicing at the gift, shall he be abashed at his inferiority. i refer to the purple robe of her majesty the queen, the like of which is not to be found in the whole earth, neither do any know where the dye that tinges it is produced, save that it proceeds from the uttermost parts of india." "i approve thy advice," replied bahram, "and in return will save thy life by banishing thee from my dominions. when my august consort shall learn that thou hast been the means of depriving her of her robe, she will undoubtedly request that thou mayest be flayed, and thou knowest that i can deny her nothing. i therefore counsel thee to depart with all possible swiftness. repair to the regions where the purple is produced, and if thou returnest with an adequate supply, i undertake that my royal sceptre shall be graciously extended to thee." the philosopher forsook the royal presence with celerity, and his office of chief examiner of court spikenard was bestowed upon another; as also his house and his garden, his gold and his silver, his wives and his concubines, his camels and his asses, which were numerous. while the solitary adventurer wended his way eastward, a gorgeous embassy travelled westward in the direction of rome. arrived in the presence of aurelian, and at the conclusion of his complimentary harangue, the chief envoy produced a cedar casket, from which he drew a purple robe of such surpassing refulgence, that, in the words of the historian who has recorded the transaction, the purple of the emperor and of the matrons appeared ashy grey in comparison. it was accompanied by a letter thus conceived: "bahram to aurelian: health! receive such purple as we have in persia." "persia, forsooth!" exclaimed sorianus, a young philosopher versed in natural science, "this purple never was in persia, except as a rarity. oh, the mendacity and vanity of these orientals!" the ambassador was beginning an angry reply, when aurelian quelled the dispute with a look, and with some awkwardness delivered himself of a brief oration in acknowledgment of the gift. he took no more notice of the matter until nightfall, when he sent for sorianus, and inquired where the purple actually was produced. "in the uttermost parts of india," returned the philosopher. "well," rejoined aurelian, summing up the matter with his accustomed rapidity and clearness of head, "either thou or the persian king has lied to me, it is plain, and, by the favour of the gods, it is immaterial which, seeing that my ground for going to war with him is equally good in either case. if he has sought to deceive me, i am right in punishing him; if he possesses what i lack, i am justified in taking it away. it would, however, be convenient to know which of these grounds to inscribe in my manifesto; moreover, i am not ready for hostilities at present; having first to extirpate the blemmyes, carpi, and other barbarian vermin. i will therefore despatch thee to india to ascertain by personal examination the truth about the purple. do not return without it, or i shall cut off thy head. my treasury will charge itself with the administration of thy property during thy absence. the robe shall meanwhile be deposited in the temple of jupiter capitolinus. may he have it and thee in his holy keeping!" thus, in that age of darkness, were two most eminent philosophers reduced to beggary, and constrained to wander in remote and insalubrious regions; the one for advising a king, the other for instructing an emperor. but the matter did not rest here. for aurelian, having continued the visible deity of half the world for one hundred and fifty days after the departure of sorianus, was slain by his own generals. to him succeeded tacitus, who sank oppressed by the weight of rule; to him probus, who perished in a military tumult; to him carus, who was killed by lightning; to him carinus, who was assassinated by one whom he had wronged; to him diocletian, who, having maintained himself for twenty years, wisely forbore to tempt nemesis further, and retired to plant cabbages at salona. all these sovereigns, differing from each other in every other respect, agreed in a common desire to possess the purple dye, and when the philosopher returned not, successively despatched new emissaries in quest of it. strange was the diversity of fate which befell these envoys. some fell into the jaws of lions, some were crushed by monstrous serpents, some trampled by elephants at the command of native princes, some perished of hunger, and some of thirst; some, encountering smooth-browed and dark-tressed girls wreathing their hair with the champak blossom or bathing by moonlight in lotus-mantled tanks, forsook their quest, and led thenceforth idyllic lives in groves of banian and of palm. some became enamoured of the principles of the gymnosophists, some couched themselves for uneasy slumber upon beds of spikes, weening to wake in the twenty-second heaven. all which romantic variety of fortune was the work of a diminutive insect that crawled or clung heedless of the purple it was weaving into the many-coloured web of human life. ii some thirty years after the departure of the persian embassy to aurelian, two travellers met at the bottom of a dell in trans-gangetic india, having descended the hill-brow by opposite paths. it was early morning; the sun had not yet surmounted the timbered and tangled sides of the little valley, so that the bottom still lay steeped in shadow, and glittering with large pearls of limpid dew, while the oval space of sky circumscribed by the summit glowed with the delicate splendour of the purest sapphire. songs of birds resounded through the brake, and the water lilies which veiled the rivulet trickling through the depths of the retreat were unexpanded still. one of the wayfarers was aged, the other a man of the latest period of middle life. their raiment was scanty and soiled; their frames and countenances alike bespoke fatigue and hardship; but while the elder one moved with moderate alacrity, the other shuffled painfully along by the help of a staff, shrinking every time that he placed either of his feet on the ground. they exchanged looks and greetings as they encountered, and the more active of the two, whose face was set in an easterly direction, ventured a compassionate allusion to the other's apparent distress. 'i but suffer from the usual effects of crucifixion,' returned the other; and removing his sandals, displayed two wounds, completely penetrating each foot. the cross had not yet announced victory to constantine, and was as yet no passport to respectable society. the first traveller drew back hastily, and regarded his companion with surprise and suspicion. "i see what is passing in thy mind," resumed the latter, with a smile; "but be under no apprehension. i have not undergone the censure of any judicial tribunal. my crucifixion was merely a painful but necessary incident in my laudable enterprise of obtaining the marvellous purple dye, to which end i was despatched unto these regions by the emperor aurelian." "the purple dye!" exclaimed the persian, for it was he. "thou hast obtained it?" "i have. it is the product of insects found only in a certain valley eastward from hence, to obtain access to which it is before all things needful to elude the vigilance of seven dragons." "thou didst elude them? and afterwards?" inquired marcobad, with eagerness. "afterwards," repeated sorianus, "i made my way into the valley, where i descried the remains of my immediate predecessor prefixed to a cross." "thy predecessor?" "he who had last made the attempt before me. upon any one's penetrating the valley of purple, as it is termed, with the design i have indicated, the inhabitants, observant of the precepts of their ancestors, append him to a cross by the feet only, confining his arms by ropes at the shoulders, and setting vessels of cooling drink within his grasp. if, overcome with thirst, he partakes of the beverage, they leave him to expire at leisure; if he endures for three days, he is permitted to depart with the object of his quest. my predecessor, belonging, as i conjecture, to the epicurean persuasion, and consequently unable to resist the allurements of sense, had perished in the manner aforesaid. i, a stoic, refrained and attained." "thou didst bear away the tincture? thou hast it now?" impetuously interrogated the persian. "behold it!" replied the greek, exhibiting a small flask filled with the most gorgeous purple liquid. "what seest thou here?" demanded he triumphantly, holding it up to the light. "to me this vial displays the university of athens, and throngs of fair youths hearkening to the discourse of one who resembles myself." "to my vision," responded the persian, peering at the vial, "it rather reveals a palace, and a dress of honour. but suffer me to contemplate it more closely, for my eyes have waxed dim by over application to study." so saying, he snatched the flask from sorianus, and immediately turned to fly. the greek sprang after his treasure, and failing to grasp marcobad's wrist, seized his beard, plucking the hair out by handfuls. the infuriated persian smote him on the head with the crystal flagon. it burst into shivers, and the priceless contents gushed forth in a torrent over the uncovered head and uplifted visage of sorianus, bathing every hair and feature with the most vivid purple. the aghast and thunderstricken philosophers remained gazing at each other for a moment. "it is indelible!" cried sorianus in distraction, rushing down, however, to the brink of the little stream, and plunging his head beneath the waters. they carried away a cloud of purple, but left the purple head stained as before. the philosopher, as he upraised his glowing and dripping countenance from the brook, resembled silenus emerging from one of the rivers which bacchus metamorphosed into wine during his campaign in india. he resorted to attrition and contrition, to maceration and laceration; he tried friction with leaves, with grass, with sedge, with his garments; he regarded himself in one crystal pool after another, a grotesque anti-narcissus. at last he flung himself on the earth, and gave free course to his anguish. the grace of repentance is rarely denied us when our misdeeds have proved unprofitable. marcobad awkwardly approached. "brother," he whispered, "i will restore the tincture of which i have deprived thee, and add thereto an antidote, if such may be found. await my return under this camphor tree." so saying, he hastened up the path by which sorianus had descended, and was speedily out of sight. iii sorianus tarried long under the camphor tree, but at last, becoming weary, resumed his travels, until emerging from the wilderness he entered the dominions of the king of ayodhya. his extraordinary appearance speedily attracted the attention of the royal officers, by whom he was apprehended and brought before his majesty. "it is evident," pronounced the monarch, after bestowing his attention on the case, "that thou art in possession of an object too rare and precious for a private individual, of which thou must accordingly be deprived. i lament the inconvenience thou wilt sustain. i would it had been thy hand or thy foot." sorianus acknowledged the royal considerateness, but pleaded the indefeasible right of property which he conceived himself to have acquired in his own head. "in respect," responded the royal logician, "that thy head is conjoined to thy shoulders, it is thine; but in respect that it is purple, it is mine, purple being a royal monopoly. thy claim is founded on anatomy, mine on jurisprudence. shall matter prevail over mind? shall medicine, the most uncertain of sciences, override law, the perfection of human reason? it is but to the vulgar observation that thou appearest to have a head at all; in the eye of the law thou art acephalous." "i would submit," urged the philosopher, "that the corporal connection of my head with my body is an essential property, the colour of it a fortuitous accident." "thou mightest as well contend," returned the king, "that the law is bound to regard thee in thy abstract condition as a human being, and is disabled from taking cognisance of thy acquired capacity of smuggler--rebel, i might say, seeing that thou hast assumed the purple." "but the imputation of cruelty which might attach to your majesty's proceedings?" "there can be no cruelty where there is no injustice. if any there be, it must be on thy part, since, as i have demonstrated, so far from my despoiling thee of thy head, it is thou who iniquitously withholdest mine. i will labour to render this even clearer to thy apprehension. thou art found, as thou must needs admit, in possession of a contraband article forfeit to the crown by operation of law. what then? shall the intention of the legislature be frustrated because thou hast insidiously rendered the possession of _my_ property inseparable from the possession of _thine_? shall i, an innocent proprietor, be mulcted of my right by thy fraud and covin? justice howls, righteousness weeps, integrity stands aghast at the bare notion. no, friend, thy head has not a leg to stand on. wouldst thou retain it, it behoves thee to show that it will be more serviceable to the owner, namely, myself, upon thy shoulders than elsewhere. this may well be. hast thou peradventure any subtleties in perfumery? any secrets in confectionery? any skill in the preparation of soup?" "i have condescended to none of these frivolities, o king. my study hath ever consisted in divine philosophy, whereby men are rendered equal to the gods." "and yet long most of all for purple!" retorted the monarch, "as i conclude from perceiving thou hast after all preferred the latter. thy head must indeed be worth the taking." "thy taunt is merited, o king! i will importune thee no longer. thou wilt indeed render me a service in depriving me of this wretched head, hideous without, and i must fear, empty within, seeing that it hath not prevented me from wasting my life in the service of vanity and luxury. woe to the sage who trusts his infirm wisdom and frail integrity within the precincts of a court! yet can i foretell a time when philosophers shall no longer run on the futile and selfish errands of kings, and when kings shall be suffered to rule only so far as they obey the bidding of philosophers. peace, knowledge, liberty--" the king of ayodhya possessed, beyond all princes of his age, the art of gracefully interrupting an unseasonable discourse. he slightly signed to a courtier in attendance, a scimitar flashed for a moment from its scabbard, and the head of sorianus rolled on the pavement; the lips murmuring as though still striving to dwell with inarticulate fondness upon the last word of hope for mankind. it soon appeared that the principle of life was essential to the resplendence of the purple head. within a few minutes it had assumed so ghastly a hue that the rajah himself was intimidated, and directed that it should be consumed with the body. the same full-moon that watched the white-robed throng busied with the rites of incremation in a grove of palms, beheld also the seven dragons contending for the body of marcobad. but, for many a year, the maids and matrons of rome were not weary of regarding, extolling, and coveting the priceless purple tissue that glowed in the fane of jupiter capitolinus. the firefly a certain magician had retired for the sake of study to a cottage in a forest. it was summer in a hot country. in the trees near the cottage dwelt a most beautiful firefly. the light she bore with her was dazzling, yet soft and palpitating, as the evening star, and she seemed a single flash of fire as she shot in and out suddenly from under the screen of foliage, or like a lamp as she perched panting upon some leaf, or hung glowing from some bough; or like a wandering meteor as she eddied gleaming over the summits of the loftiest trees; as she often did, for she was an ambitious firefly. she learned to know the magician, and would sometimes alight and sit shining in his hair, or trail her lustre across his book as she crept over the pages. the magician admired her above all things: "what eyes she would have if she were a woman!" thought he. once he said aloud, "how happy you must be, you rare, beautiful, brilliant creature!" "i am not happy," rejoined the firefly; "what am i, after all, but a flying beetle with a candle in my tail? i wish i were a star." "very well," said the magician, and touched her with his wand, when she became a beautiful star in the twelfth degree of the sign pisces. after some nights the magician asked her if she was content. "i am not," replied she. "when i was a firefly i could fly whither i would, and come and go as i pleased. now i must rise and set at certain times, and shine just so long and no longer. i cannot fly at all, and only creep slowly across the sky. in the day i cannot shine, or if i do no one sees me. i am often darkened by rain, and mist, and cloud. even when i shine my brightest i am less admired than when i was a firefly, there are so many others like me. i see, indeed, people looking up from the earth by night towards me, but how do i know that they are looking at me?" "the laws of nature will have it so," returned the magician. "don't talk to me of the laws of nature," rejoined the firefly. "i did not make them, and i don't see why i should be compelled to obey them. make me something else." "what would you be?" demanded the accommodating magician. "as i creep along here," replied the star, "i see such a soft pure track of light. it proceeds from the lamp in your study. it flows out of your window like a river of molten silver, both cool and warm. let me be such a lamp." "be it so," answered the magician: and the star became a lovely alabaster lamp, set in an alcove in his study. her chaste radiance was shed over his page as long as he continued to read. at a certain hour he extinguished her and retired to rest. next morning the lamp was in a terrible humour. "i don't choose to be blown out," she said. "you would have gone out of your own accord else," returned the magician. "what!" exclaimed the lamp, "am i not shining by my own light?" "certainly not: you are not now a firefly or a star. you must now depend upon others. you would be dark for ever if i did not rekindle you by the help of this oil." "what!" cried the lamp, "not shine of my own accord! never! make me an everlasting lamp, or i will not be one at all." "alas, poor friend," returned the magician sadly, "there is but one place where aught is everlasting. i can make thee a lamp of the sepulchre." "content," responded the lamp. and the magician made her one of those strange occult lamps which men find ever and anon when they unseal the tombs of ancient kings and wizards, sustaining without nutriment a perpetual flame. and he bore her to a sepulchre where a great king was lying embalmed and perfect in his golden raiment, and set her at the head of the corpse. and whether the poor fitful firefly found at last rest in the grave, we may know when we come thither ourselves. but the magician closed the gates of the sepulchre behind him, and walked thoughtfully home. and as he approached his cottage, behold another firefly darting and flashing in and out among the trees, as brilliantly as ever the first had done. she was a wise firefly, well satisfied with the world and everything in it, more particularly her own tail. and if the magician would have made a pet of her no doubt she would have abode with him. but he never looked at her. pan's wand iridion had broken her lily. a misfortune for any rustic nymph, but especially for her, since her life depended upon it. from her birth the fate of iridion had been associated with that of a flower of unusual loveliness--a stately, candid lily, endowed with a charmed life, like its possessor. the seasons came and went without leaving a trace upon it; innocence and beauty seemed as enduring with it, as evanescent with the children of men. in equal though dissimilar loveliness its frolicsome young mistress nourished by its side. one thing alone, the oracle had declared, could prejudice either, and this was an accident to the flower. from such disaster it had long been shielded by the most delicate care; yet in the inscrutable counsels of the gods, the dreaded calamity had at length come to pass. broken through the upper part of the stem, the listless flower drooped its petals towards the earth, and seemed to mourn their chastity, already sullied by the wan flaccidity of decay. not one had fallen as yet, and iridion felt no pain or any symptom of approaching dissolution, except, it may be, the unwonted seriousness with which, having exhausted all her simple skill on behalf of the languishing plant, she sat down to consider its fate in the light of its bearing upon her own. meditation upon an utterly vague subject, whether of apprehension or of hope, speedily lapses into reverie. to iridion, death was as indefinable an object of thought as the twin omnipotent controller of human destiny, love. love, like the immature fruit on the bough, hung unsoliciting and unsolicited as yet, but slowly ripening to the maiden's hand. death, a vague film in an illimitable sky, tempered without obscuring the sunshine of her life. confronted with it suddenly, she found it, in truth, an impalpable cloud, and herself as little competent as the gravest philosopher to answer the self-suggested inquiry, "what shall i be when i am no longer iridion?" superstition might have helped her to some definite conceptions, but superstition did not exist in her time. judge, reader, of its remoteness. the maiden's reverie might have terminated only with her existence, but for the salutary law which prohibits a young girl, not in love or at school, from sitting still more than ten minutes. as she shifted her seat at the expiration of something like this period, she perceived that she had been sitting on a goatskin, and with a natural association of ideas-- "i will ask pan," she exclaimed. pan at that time inhabited a cavern hard by the maiden's dwelling, which the judicious reader will have divined could only have been situated in arcadia. the honest god was on excellent terms with the simple people; his goats browsed freely along with theirs, and the most melodious of the rustic minstrels attributed their proficiency to his instructions. the maidens were on a more reserved footing of intimacy--at least so they wished it to be understood, and so it was understood, of course. iridion, however, decided that the occasion would warrant her incurring the risk even of a kiss, and lost no time in setting forth upon her errand, carrying her poor broken flower in its earthen vase. it was the time of day when the god might be supposed to be arousing himself from his afternoon's siesta. she did not fear that his door would be closed against her, for he had no door. the sylvan deity stood, in fact, at the entrance of his cavern, about to proceed in quest of his goats. the appearance of iridion operated a change in his intention, and he courteously escorted her to a seat of turf erected for the special accommodation of his fair visitors, while he placed for himself one of stone. "pan," she began, "i have broken my lily." "that is a sad pity, child. if it had been a reed, now, you could have made a flute of it." "i should not have time, pan," and she recounted her story. a godlike nature cannot confound truth with falsehood, though it may mistake falsehood for truth. pan therefore never doubted iridion's strange narrative, and, having heard it to the end, observed, "you will find plenty more lilies in elysium." "common lilies, pan; not like mine." "you are wrong. the lilies of elysium--asphodels as they call them there--are as immortal as the elysians themselves. i have seen them in proserpine's hair at jupiter's entertainment; they were as fresh as she was. there is no doubt you might gather them by handfuls--at least if you had any hands--and wear them to your heart's content, if you had but a heart." "that's just what perplexes me, pan. it is not the dying i mind, it's the living. how am i to live without anything alive about me? if you take away my hands, and my heart, and my brains, and my eyes, and my ears, and above all my tongue, what is left me to live in elysium?" as the maiden spake a petal detached itself from the emaciated lily, and she pressed her hand to her brow with a responsive cry of pain. "poor child!" said pan compassionately, "you will feel no more pain by-and-by." "i suppose not, pan, since you say so. but if i can feel no pain, how can i feel any pleasure? "in an incomprehensible manner," said pan. "how can i feel, if i have no feeling? and what am i to do without it?" "you can think!" replied pan. "thinking (not that i am greatly given to it myself) is a much finer thing than feeling; no right-minded person doubts that. feeling, as i have heard minerva say, is a property of matter, and matter, except, of course, that appertaining to myself and the other happy gods, is vile and perishable--quite immaterial, in fact. thought alone is transcendent, incorruptible, and undying!" "but, pan, how can any one think thoughts without something to think them with? i never thought of anything that i have not seen, or touched, or smelt, or tasted, or heard about from some one else. if i think with nothing, and about nothing, is that thinking, do you think?" "i think," answered pan evasively, "that you are a sensationalist, a materialist, a sceptic, a revolutionist; and if you had not sought the assistance of a god, i should have said not much better than an atheist. i also think it is time i thought about some physic for you instead of metaphysics, which are bad for my head, and for your soul." saying this, pan, with rough tenderness, deposited the almost fainting maiden upon a couch of fern, and, having supported her head with a bundle of herbs, leaned his own upon his hand, and reflected with all his might. the declining sun was now nearly opposite the cavern's mouth, and his rays, straggling through the creepers that wove their intricacies over the entrance, chequered with lustrous patches the forms of the dying girl and the meditating god. ever and anon, a petal would drop from the flower; this was always succeeded by a shuddering tremor throughout iridion's frame and a more forlorn expression on her pallid countenance: while pan's jovial features assumed an expression of deeper concern as he pressed his knotty hand more resolutely against his shaggy forehead, and wrung his dexter horn with a more determined grasp, as though he had caught a burrowing idea by the tail. "aha!" he suddenly exclaimed, "i have it!" "what have you, pan?" faintly lisped the expiring iridion. instead of replying, pan grasped a wand that leaned against the wall of his grot, and with it touched the maiden and the flower. o strange metamorphosis! where the latter had been pining in its vase, a lovely girl, the image of iridion, lay along the ground with dishevelled hair, clammy brow, and features slightly distorted by the last struggles of death. on the ferny couch stood an earthen vase, from which rose a magnificent lily, stately, with unfractured stem, and with no stain or wrinkle on its numerous petals. "aha!" repeated pan; "i think we are ready for him now." then, having lifted the inanimate body to the couch, and placed the vase, with its contents, on the floor of his cavern, he stepped to the entrance, and shading his eyes with his hand, seemed to gaze abroad in quest of some anticipated visitor. the boughs at the foot of the steep path to the cave divided, and a figure appeared at the foot of the rock. the stranger's mien was majestic, but the fitness of his proportions diminished his really colossal stature to something more nearly the measure of mortality. his form was enveloped in a sweeping sad-coloured robe; a light, thin veil resting on his countenance, mitigated, without concealing, the not ungentle austerity of his marble features. his gait was remarkable; nothing could be more remote from every indication of haste, yet such was the actual celerity of his progression, that pan had scarcely beheld him ere he started to find him already at his side. the stranger, without disturbing his veil, seemed to comprehend the whole interior of the grotto with a glance; then, with the slightest gesture of recognition to pan, he glided to the couch on which lay the metamorphosed lily, upraised the fictitious iridion in his arms with indescribable gentleness, and disappeared with her as swiftly and silently as he had come. the discreet pan struggled with suppressed merriment until the stranger was fairly out of hearing, then threw himself back upon his seat and laughed till the cave rang. "and now," he said, "to finish the business." he lifted the transformed maiden into the vase, and caressed her beauty with an exulting but careful hand. there was a glory and a splendour in the flower such as had never until then been beheld in any earthly lily. the stem vibrated, the leaves shook in unison, the petals panted and suspired, and seemed blanched with a whiteness intense as the core of sunlight, as they throbbed in anticipation of the richer existence awaiting them. impatient to complete his task, pan was about to grasp his wand when the motion was arrested as the sinking beam of the sun was intercepted by a gigantic shadow, and the stranger again stood by his side. the unbidden guest uttered no word, but his manner was sufficiently expressive of wrath as he disdainfully cast on the ground a broken, withered lily, the relic of what had bloomed with such loveliness in the morning, and had since for a brief space been arrayed in the vesture of humanity. he pointed imperiously to the gorgeous tenant of the vase, and seemed to expect pan to deliver it forthwith. "look here," said pan, with more decision than dignity, "i am a poor country god, but i know the law. if you can find on this plant one speck, one stain, one token that you have anything to do with her, take her, and welcome. if you cannot, take yourself off instead." "be it so," returned the stranger, haughtily declining the proffered inspection. "you will find it is ill joking with death." so saying, he quitted the cavern. pan sat down chuckling, yet not wholly at ease, for if the charity of death is beautiful even to a mortal, his anger is terrible, even to a god. anxious to terminate the adventure, he reached towards the charmed wand by whose wonderful instrumentality the dying maiden had already become a living flower, and was now to undergo a yet more delightful metamorphosis. wondrous wand! but where was it? for death, the great transfigurer of all below this lunar sphere, had given pan a characteristic proof of his superior cunning. where the wand had reposed writhed a ghastly worm, which, as pan's glance fell upon it, glided towards him, uplifting its head with an aspect of defiance. pan's immortal nature sickened at the emblem of corruption; he could not for all olympus have touched his metamorphosed treasure. as he shrank back the creature pursued its way towards the vase; but a marvellous change befell it as it came under the shadow of the flower. the writhing body divided, end from end, the sordid scales sank indiscernibly into the dust, and an exquisite butterfly, arising from the ground, alighted on the lily, and remained for a moment fanning its wings in the last sunbeam, ere it unclosed them to the evening breeze. pan, looking eagerly after the psyche in its flight, did not perceive what was taking place in the cavern; but the magic wand, now for ever lost to its possessor, must have cancelled its own spell, for when his gaze reverted from the ineffectual pursuit, the living lily had disappeared, and iridion lay a corpse upon the ground, the faded flower of her destiny reposing upon her breast. death now stood for a third time upon pan's threshold, but pan heeded him not. a page from the book of folly "that owned the virtuous ring and glass." [--_il penseroso_.] i "aurelia!" "otto!" "must we then part?" they were folded in each other's arms. there never was such kissing. "how shall we henceforth exchange the sweet tokens of our undying affection, my otto?" "alas, my aurelia, i know not! thy otto blushes to acquaint thee that he cannot write." "blush not, my otto, thou needest not reproach thyself. even couldest thou write, thy aurelia could not read. oh these dark ages!" they remained some minutes gazing on each other with an expression of fond perplexity. suddenly the damsel's features assumed the aspect of one who experiences the visitation of a happy thought. gently yet decidedly she pronounced: "we will exchange rings." they drew off their rings simultaneously. "this, aurelia, was my grandfather's." "this, otto, was my grandmother's, which she charged me with her dying breath never to part with save to him whom alone i loved." "mine is a brilliant, more radiant than aught save the eyes of my aurelia." and, in fact, aurelia's eyes hardly sustained the comparison. a finer stone could not easily be found. "mine is a sapphire, azure as the everlasting heavens, and type of a constancy enduring as they." in truth, it was of a tint seldom to be met with in sapphires. the exchange made, the lady seemed less anxious to detain her lover. "beware, otto!" she cried, as he slid down the cord, which yielded him an oscillatory transit from her casement to the moat, where he alighted knee-deep in mud. "beware!--if my brother should be gazing from his chamber on the resplendent moon!" but that ferocious young baron was accustomed to spend his time in a less romantic manner; and so it came to pass that otto encountered him not. ii days, weeks, months had passed by, and otto, a wanderer in a foreign land, had heard no tidings of his aurelia. ye who have loved may well conceive how her ring was all in all to him. he divided his time pretty equally between gazing into its cerulean depths, as though her lovely image were mirrored therein, and pressing its chilly surface to his lips, little as it recalled the warmth and balminess of hers. the burnished glow of gold, the chaste sheen of silver, the dance and sparkle of light in multitudinous gems, arrested his attention as he one evening perambulated the streets of a great city. he beheld a jeweller's shop. the grey-headed, spectacled lapidary sat at a bench within, sedulously polishing a streaked pebble by the light of a small lamp. a sudden thought struck otto; he entered the shop, and, presenting the ring to the jeweller, inquired in a tone of suppressed exultation: "what hold you for the worth of this inestimable ring?" the jeweller, with no expression of surprise or curiosity, received the ring from otto, held it to the light, glanced slightly at the stone, somewhat more carefully at the setting, laid the ring for a moment in a pair of light scales, and, handing it back to otto, remarked with a tone and manner of the most entire indifference: "the worth of this inestimable ring is one shilling and sixpence." "caitiff of a huckster!" exclaimed otto, bringing down his fist on the bench with such vigour that the pebbles leaped up and fell rattling down: "sayest thou this of a gem framed by genii in the bowels of the earth?" "nay, friend," returned the jeweller with the same imperturbable air, "that thy gem was framed of earth i in nowise question, seeing that it doth principally consist of sand. but when thou speakest of genii and the bowels of the earth, thou wilt not, i hope, take it amiss if i crave better proof than thy word that the devil has taken to glass-making. for glass, and nothing else, credit me, thy jewel is." "and the gold?" gasped otto. "there is just as much gold in thy ring as sufficeth to gild handsomely a like superficies of brass, which is not saying much." and, applying a sponge dipped in some liquid to a small part of the hoop, the jeweller disclosed the dull hue of the baser metal so evidently that otto could hardly doubt longer. he doubted no more when the lapidary laid his ring in the scales against another of the same size and make, and pointed to the inequality of the balance. "thou seest," he continued, "that in our craft a very little gold goes a very great way. it is far otherwise in the world, as thou, albeit in no sort eminent for sapience, hast doubtless ere this ascertained for thyself. thou art evidently a prodigious fool!" this latter disparaging observation could be safely ventured upon, as otto had rushed from the shop, speechless with rage. was aurelia deceiver or deceived? should he execrate her, or her venerable grandmother, or some unknown person? the point was too knotty to be solved in the agitated state of his feelings. he decided it provisionally by execrating the entire human race, not forgetting himself. in a mood like otto's a trifling circumstance is sufficient to determine the quality of action. the ancient city of which he was at the time an inhabitant was traversed by a large river spanned by a quaint and many-arched bridge, to which his frantic and aimless wanderings had conducted him. spires and gables and lengthy façades were reflected in the water, blended with the shadows of boats, and interspersed with the mirrored flames of innumerable windows on land, or of lanterns suspended from the masts or sterns of the vessels. the dancing ripples bickered and flickered, and seemed to say, "come hither to us," while the dark reaches of still water in the shadow of the piers promised that whatever might be entrusted to them should be faithfully retained. swayed by a sudden impulse, otto drew his ring from his finger. it gleamed an instant aloft in air; in another the relaxation of his grasp would have consigned it to the stream. "forbear!" otto turned, and perceived a singular figure by his side. the stranger was tall and thin, and attired in a dusky cloak which only partially concealed a flame-coloured jerkin. a cock's feather peaked up in his cap; his eyes were piercingly brilliant; his nose was aquiline; the expression of his features sinister and sardonic. had otto been more observant, or less preoccupied, he might have noticed that the stranger's left shoe was of a peculiar form, and that he limped some little with the corresponding foot. "forbear, i say; thou knowest not what thou doest." "and what skills what i do with a piece of common glass?" "thou errest, friend; thy ring is not common glass. had thy mistress surmised its mystic virtues, she would have thought oftener than twice ere exchanging it for thy diamond." "what may these virtues be?" eagerly demanded otto. "in the first place, it will show thee when thy mistress may chance to think of thee, as it will then prick thy finger." "now i know thee for a lying knave," exclaimed the youth indignantly. "learn, to thy confusion, that it hath not pricked me once since i parted from aurelia." "which proves that she has never once thought of thee." "villain!" shouted otto, "say that again, and i will transfix thee." "thou mayest if thou canst," rejoined the stranger, with an expression of such cutting scorn that otto's spirit quailed, and he felt a secret but overpowering conviction of his interlocutor's veracity. rallying, however, in some measure, he exclaimed: "aurelia is true! i will wager my soul upon it!" "done!" screamed the stranger in a strident voice of triumph, while a burst of diabolical laughter seemed to proceed from every cranny of the eaves and piers of the old bridge, and to be taken up by goblin echoes from the summits of the adjacent towers and steeples. otto's blood ran chill, but he mustered sufficient courage to inquire hoarsely: "what of its further virtues?" "when it shall have pricked thee," returned the mysterious personage, "on turning it once completely round thy finger thou wilt see thy mistress wherever she may be. if thou turnest it the second time, thou wilt know what her thought of thee is; and, if the third time, thou wilt find thyself in her presence. but i give thee fair warning that by doing this thou wilt place thyself in a more disastrous plight than any thou hast experienced hitherto. and now farewell." the speaker disappeared. otto stood alone upon the bridge. he saw nothing around him but the stream, with its shadows and lights, as he slowly and thoughtfully turned round to walk to his lodgings. iii ye who have loved, et cetera, as aforesaid, will comprehend the anxiety with which otto henceforth consulted his ring. he was continually adjusting it to his finger in a manner, as he fancied, to render the anticipated puncture more perceptible when it should come at last. he would have worn it on all his fingers in succession had the conformation of his robust hand admitted of its being placed on any but the slenderest. thousands of times he could have sworn that he felt the admonitory sting; thousands of times he turned the trinket round and round with desperate impatience; but aurelia's form remained as invisible, her thoughts as inscrutable, as before. his great dread was that he might be pricked in his sleep, on which account he would sit up watching far into the morn. for, as he reasoned, not without plausibility, when could he more rationally hope for a place in aurelia's thoughts than at that witching and suggestive period? she might surely think of him when she had nothing else to do! had she really nothing else to do? and otto grew sick and livid with jealousy. it of course frequently occurred to him to doubt and deride the virtues of the ring, and he was several times upon the point of flinging it away. but the more he pondered upon the appearance and manner of the stranger, the less able he felt to resist the conviction of his truthfulness. at last a most unmistakable puncture! the distinct, though slight, pang of a miniature wound. a crimson bead of blood rose on otto's finger, swelled to its due proportion, and became a trickling blot. "she is thinking of me!" cried he rapturously, as if this were an instance of the most signal and unforeseen condescension. all the weary expectancy of the last six months was forgotten. he would have railed at himself had the bliss of the moment allowed him to remember that he had ever railed at her. otto turned his ring once, and aurelia became visible in an instant. she was standing before the mercer's booth in the chief street of the little town which adjoined her father's castle. her gaze was riveted on a silk mantle, trimmed with costly furs, which depended from a hook inside the doorway. her lovely features wore an expression of extreme dissatisfaction. she was replacing a purse, apparently by no means weighty, in her embroidered girdle. otto turned the ring the second time, and aurelia's silvery accents immediately became audible to the following effect: "if that fool otto were here, he would buy it for me." she turned away, and walked down the street. otto uttered a cry like the shriek of an uprooted mandrake. his hand was upon the ring to turn it for the third time; but the stranger's warning occurred to him, and for a moment he forbore. in that moment the entire vision vanished from before his eyes. what boots it to describe otto's feelings upon this revelation of aurelia's sentiments? for lovers, description would be needless; to wiser people, incomprehensible. suffice it to say, that as his lady deemed him a fool he appeared bent on proving that she did not deem amiss. a long space of time elapsed without any further admonition from the ring. perhaps aurelia had no further occasion for his purse; perhaps she had found another pursebearer. the latter view of the case appeared the more plausible to otto, and it hugely aggravated his torments. at last the moment came. it was the hour of midnight. again otto felt the sharp puncture, again the ruby drop started from his finger, again he turned the ring, and again beheld aurelia. she was in her chamber, but not alone. her companion was a youth of otto's age. she was in the act of placing otto's brilliant upon his finger. otto turned his own ring, and heard her utter, with singular distinctness: "this ring was given me by the greatest fool i ever knew. little did he imagine that it would one day be the means of procuring me liberty, and bliss in the arms of my arnold. my venerable grandmother--" the voice expired upon her lips, for otto stood before her. arnold precipitated himself from the window, carrying the ring with him. otto, glaring at his faithless mistress, stood in the middle of the apartment with his sword unsheathed. was he about to use it? none can say; for at this moment the young baron burst into the room, and, without the slightest apology for the liberty he was taking, passed his sword through otto's body. otto groaned, and fell upon his face. he was dead. the young baron ungently reversed the position of the corpse, and scanned its features with evident surprise and dissatisfaction. "it is not arnold, after all!" he muttered. "who would have thought it?" "thou seest, brother, how unjust were thy suspicions," observed aurelia, with an air of injured but not implacable virtue. "as for this abominable ravisher----" her feelings forbade her to proceed. the brother looked mystified. there was something beyond his comprehension in the affair; yet he could not but acknowledge that otto was the person who had rushed by him as he lay in wait upon the stairs. he finally determined that it was best to say nothing about the matter: a resolution the easier of performance as he was not wont to be lavish of his words at any time. he wiped his sword on his sister's curtains, and was about to withdraw, when aurelia again spoke: "ere thou departest, brother, have the goodness to ring the bell, and desire the menials to remove this carrion from my apartment." the young baron sulkily complied, and retreated growling to his chamber. the attendants carried otto's body forth. to the honour of her sex be it recorded, that before this was done aurelia vouchsafed one glance to the corpse of her old lover. her eye fell on the brazen ring. "and he has actually worn it all this time!" thought she. "would have outraged my daughter, would he?" said the old baron, when the transaction was reported to him. "let him be buried in a concatenation accordingly." "what the guy dickens be a concatrenation, geoffrey?" interrogated giles. "methinks it is latin for a ditch," responded geoffrey. this interpretation commending itself to the general judgment of the retainers, otto was interred in the shelving bank of the old moat, just under aurelia's window. a rough stone was laid upon the grave. the magic ring, which no one thought worth appropriating, remained upon the corpse's finger. thou mayest probably find it there, reader, if thou searchest long enough. the first visitor to otto's humble sepulchre was, after all, aurelia herself, who alighted thereon on the following night after letting herself down from her casement to fly with arnold. their escape was successfully achieved upon a pair of excellent horses, the proceeds of otto's diamond, which had become the property of a jew. on the third night an aged monk stood by otto's grave, and wept plentifully. he carried a lantern, a mallet, and a chisel. "he was my pupil," sobbed the good old man. "it were meet to contribute what in me lies to the befitting perpetuation of his memory." setting down the lantern, he commenced work, and with pious toil engraved on the stone in the latin of the period: "hac magnus stultus jacet in fossa sepultus. mulier cui credidit mortuum illum reddidit." here he paused, at the end of his strength and of his latin. "beshrew my old arms and brains!" he sighed. "hem!" coughed a deep voice in his vicinity. the monk looked up. the personage in the dusky cloak and flame-coloured jerkin was standing over him. "good monk," said the fiend, "what dost thou here?" "good fiend," said the monk, "i am inscribing an epitaph to the memory of a departed friend. thou mightest kindly aid me to complete it." "truly," rejoined the demon, "it would become me to do so, seeing that i have his soul here in my pocket. thou wilt not expect me to employ the language of the church. nathless, i see not wherefore the vernacular may not serve as well." and, taking the mallet and chisel, he completed the monk's inscription with the supplementary legend: "served him right." the bell of saint euschemon the town of epinal, in lorraine, possessed in the middle ages a peal of three bells, respectively dedicated to st. eulogius, st. eucherius, and st. euschemon, whose tintinnabulation was found to be an effectual safeguard against all thunderstorms. let the heavens be ever so murky, it was merely requisite to set the bells ringing, and no lightning flashed and no thunder peal broke over the town, nor was the neighbouring country within hearing of them ravaged by hail or flood. one day the three saints, eulogius, eucherius, and euschemon, were sitting together, exceedingly well content with themselves and everything around them, as indeed they had every right to be, supposing that they were in paradise. we say supposing, not being for our own part entirely able to reconcile this locality with the presence of certain cans and flagons, which had been fuller than they were. "what a happy reflection for a saint," said eulogius, who was rapidly passing from the mellow stage of good fellowship to the maudlin, "that even after his celestial assumption he is permitted to continue a source of blessing and benefit to his fellow-creatures as yet dwelling in the shade of mortality! the thought of the services of my bell, in averting lightning and inundation from the good people of epinal, fills me with indescribable beatitude." "_your_ bell!" interposed eucherius, whose path had lain through the mellow to the quarrelsome. "_your_ bell, quotha! you had as good clink this cannakin" (suiting the action to the word) "as your bell. it's my bell that does the business." "i think you might put in a word for _my_ bell," interposed euschemon, a little squinting saint, very merry and friendly when not put out, as on the present occasion. "your bell!" retorted the big saints, with incredible disdain; and, forgetting their own altercation, they fell so fiercely on their little brother that he ran away, stopping his ears with his hands, and vowing vengeance. a short time after this fracas, a personage of venerable appearance presented himself at epinal, and applied for the post of sacristan and bell-ringer, at that time vacant. though he squinted, his appearance was far from disagreeable, and he obtained the appointment without difficulty. his deportment in it was in all respects edifying; or if he evinced some little remissness in the service of saints eulogius and eucherius, this was more than compensated by his devotion to the hitherto somewhat slighted saint euschemon. it was indeed observed that candles, garlands, and other offerings made at the shrines of the two senior saints were found to be transferred in an unaccountable and mystical manner to the junior, which induced experienced persons to remark that a miracle was certainly brewing. nothing, however, occurred until, one hot summer afternoon, the indications of a storm became so threatening that the sacristan was directed to ring the bells. scarcely had he begun than the sky became clear, but instead of the usual rich volume of sound the townsmen heard with astonishment a solitary tinkle, sounding quite ridiculous and unsatisfactory in comparison. st. euschemon's bell was ringing by itself. in a trice priests and laymen swarmed to the belfry, and indignantly demanded of the sacristan what he meant. "to enlighten you," he responded. "to teach you to give honour where honour is due. to unmask those canonised impostors." and he called their attention to the fact that the clappers of the bells of eulogius and eucherius were so fastened up that they could not emit a sound, while that of euschemon vibrated freely. "ye see," he continued, "that these sound not at all, yet is the tempest stayed. is it not thence manifest that the virtue resides solely in the bell of the blessed euschemon?" the argument seemed conclusive to the majority, but those of the clergy who ministered at the altars of eulogius and eucherius stoutly resisted, maintaining that no just decision could be arrived at until euschemon's bell was subjected to the same treatment as the others. their view eventually prevailed, to the great dismay of euschemon, who, although firmly convinced of the virtue of his own bell, did not in his heart disbelieve in the bells of his brethren. imagine his relief and amazed joy when, upon his bell being silenced, the storm, for the first time in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, broke with full fury over epinal, and, for all the frantic pealing of the other two bells, raged with unspeakable fierceness until his own was brought into requisition, when, as if by enchantment, the rain ceased, the thunder-clouds dispersed, and the sun broke out gloriously from the blue sky. "carry him in procession!" shouted the crowd. "amen, brethren; here i am," rejoined euschemon, stepping briskly into the midst of the troop. "and why in the name of zernebock should we carry _you?_" demanded some, while others ran off to lug forth the image, the object of their devotion. "why, verily," euschemon began, and stopped short. how indeed was he to prove to them that he _was_ euschemon? his personal resemblance to his effigy, the work of a sculptor of the idealistic school, was in no respect remarkable; and he felt, alas! that he could no more work a miracle than you or i. in the sight of the multitude he was only an elderly sexton with a cast in his eye, with nothing but his office to keep him out of the workhouse. a further and more awkward question arose, how on earth was he to get back to paradise? the ordinary method was not available, for he had already been dead for several centuries; and no other presented itself to his imagination. muttering apologies, and glad to be overlooked, euschemon shrank into a corner, but slightly comforted by the honours his image was receiving at the hands of the good people of epinal. as time wore on he became pensive and restless, and nothing pleased him so well as to ascend to the belfry on moonlight nights, scribbling disparagement on the bells of eulogius and eucherius, which had ceased to be rung, and patting and caressing his own, which now did duty for all three. with alarm he noticed one night an incipient crack, which threatened to become a serious flaw. "if this goes on," said a voice behind him, "i shall get a holiday." euschemon turned round, and with indescribable dismay perceived a gigantic demon, negligently resting his hand on the top of the bell, and looking as if it would cost him nothing to pitch it and euschemon together to the other side of the town. "avaunt, fiend," he stammered, with as much dignity as he could muster, "or at least remove thy unhallowed paw from my bell." "come, eusky," replied the fiend, with profane familiarity, "don't be a fool. you are not really such an ass as to imagine that your virtue has anything to do with the virtue of this bell?" "whose virtue then?" demanded euschemon. "why truly," said the demon, "mine! when this bell was cast i was imprisoned in it by a potent enchanter, and so long as i am in it no storm can come within sound of its ringing. i am not allowed to quit it except by night, and then no further than an arm's length: this, however, i take the liberty of measuring by my own arm, which happens to be a long one. this must continue, as i learn, until i receive a kiss from some bishop of distinguished sanctity. thou hast done some bishoping in thy time, peradventure?" euschemon energetically protested that he had been on earth but a simple laic, which was indeed the fact, and was also the reason why eulogius and eucherius despised him, but which, though he did not think it needful to tell the demon, he found a singular relief under present circumstances. "well," continued the fiend, "i wish he may turn up shortly, for i am half deaf already with the banging and booming of this infernal clapper, which seems to have grown much worse of late; and the blessings and the crossings and the aspersions which i have to go through are most repugnant to my tastes, and unsuitable to my position in society. bye-bye, eusky; come up to-morrow night." and the fiend slipped back into the bell, and instantly became invisible. the humiliation of poor euschemon on learning that he was indebted for his credit to the devil is easier to imagine than to describe. he did not, however, fail at the rendezvous next night, and found the demon sitting outside the bell in a most affable frame of mind. it did not take long for the devil and the saint to become very good friends, both wanting company, and the former being apparently as much amused by the latter's simplicity as the latter was charmed by the former's knowingness. euschemon learned numbers of things of which he had not had the faintest notion. the demon taught him how to play cards (just invented by the saracens), and initiated him into divers "arts, though unimagined, yet to be," such as smoking tobacco, making a book on the derby, and inditing queer stories for society journals. he drew the most profane but irresistibly funny caricatures of eulogius and eucherius, and the rest of the host of heaven. he had been one of the demons who tempted st. anthony, and retailed anecdotes of that eremite which euschemon had never heard mentioned in paradise. he was versed in all scandal respecting saints in general, and euschemon found with astonishment how much about his own order was known downstairs. on the whole he had never enjoyed himself so much in his life; he became proficient in all manner of minor devilries, and was ceasing to trouble himself about his bell or his ecclesiastical duties, when an untoward incident interrupted his felicity. it chanced that the bishop of metz, in whose diocese epinal was situated, finding himself during a visitation journey within a short distance of the town, determined to put, up there for the night. he did not arrive until nightfall, but word of his intention having been sent forward by a messenger the authorities, civil and ecclesiastical, were ready to receive him. when, escorted in state, he had arrived at the house prepared for his reception, the mayor ventured to express a hope that everything had been satisfactory to his lordship. "everything," said the bishop emphatically. "i did indeed seem to remark one little omission, which no doubt may be easily accounted for." "what was that, my lord?" "it hath," said the bishop, "usually been the practice to receive a bishop with the ringing of bells. it is a laudable custom, conducive to the purification of the air and the discomfiture of the prince of the powers thereof. i caught no sound of chimes on the present occasion, yet i am sensible that my hearing is not what it was." the civil and ecclesiastical authorities looked at each other. "that graceless knave of a sacristan!" said the mayor. "he hath indeed of late strangely neglected his charge," said a priest. "poor man, i doubt his wits are touched," charitably added another. "what!" exclaimed the bishop, who was very active, very fussy, and a great stickler for discipline. "this important church, so renowned for its three miraculous bells, confided to the tender mercies of an imbecile rogue who may burn it down any night! i will look to it myself without losing a minute." and in spite of all remonstrances, off he started. the keys were brought, the doors flung open, the body of the church thoroughly examined, but neither in nave, choir, or chancel could the slightest trace of the sacristan be found. "perhaps he is in the belfry," suggested a chorister. "we'll see," responded the bishop, and bustling nimbly up the ladder, he emerged into the open belfry in full moonlight. heavens! what a sight met his eye! the sacristan and the devil sitting _vis-a-vis_ close by the miraculous bell, with a smoking can of hot spiced wine between them, finishing a close game of cribbage. "seven," declared euschemon. "and eight are fifteen," retorted the demon, marking two. "twenty-three and pair," cried euschemon, marking in his turn. "and seven is thirty." "ace, thirty-one, and i'm up." "it _is_ up with you, my friend," shouted the bishop, bringing his crook down smartly on euschemon's shoulders. "deuce!" said the devil, and vanished into his bell. when poor euschemon had been bound and gagged, which did not take very long, the bishop briefly addressed the assembly. he said that the accounts of the bell which had reached his ears had already excited his apprehensions. he had greatly feared that all could not be right, and now his anxieties were but too well justified. he trusted there was not a man before him who would not suffer his flocks and his crops to be destroyed by tempest fifty times over rather than purchase their safety by unhallowed means. what had been done had doubtless been done in ignorance, and could be made good by a mulct to the episcopal treasury. the amount of this he would carefully consider, and the people of epinal might rest assured that it should not be too light to entitle them to the benefit of a full absolution. the bell must go to his cathedral city, there to be examined and reported on by the exorcists and inquisitors. meanwhile he would himself institute a slight preliminary scrutiny. the bell was accordingly unhung, tilted up, and inspected by the combined beams of the moonlight and torchlight. very slight examination served to place the soundness of the bishop's opinion beyond dispute. on the lip of the bell were engraven characters unknown to every one else, but which seemed to affect the prelate with singular consternation. "i hope," he exclaimed, "that none of you know anything about these characters! i earnestly trust that none can read a single one of them. if i thought anybody could i would burn him as soon as look at him!" the bystanders hastened to assure him that not one of them had the slightest conception of the meaning of the letters, which had never been observed before. "i rejoice to hear it," said the bishop. "it will be an evil day for the church when these letters are understood." and next morning he departed, carrying off the bell, with the invisible fiend inside it; the cards, which were regarded as a book of magic; and the luckless euschemon, who shortly found himself in total darkness, the inmate of a dismal dungeon. it was some time before euschemon became sensible of the presence of any partner in his captivity, by reason of the trotting of the rats. at length, however, a deep sigh struck upon his ear. "who art thou?" he exclaimed. "an unfortunate prisoner," was the answer. "what is the occasion of thy imprisonment?" "oh, a mere trifle. a ridiculous suspicion of sacrificing a child to beelzebub. one of the little disagreeables that must occasionally occur in our profession." "_our_ profession!" exclaimed euschemon. "art thou not a sorcerer?" demanded the voice. "no," replied euschemon, "i am a saint." the warlock received euschemon's statement with much incredulity, but becoming eventually convinced of its truth-- "i congratulate thee," he said. "the devil has manifestly taken a fancy to thee, and he never forgets his own. it is true that the bishop is a great favourite with him also. but we will hope for the best. thou hast never practised riding a broomstick? no? 'tis pity; thou mayest have to mount one at a moment's notice." this consolation had scarcely been administered ere the bolts flew back, the hinges grated, the door opened, and gaolers bearing torches informed the sorcerer that the bishop desired his presence. he found the bishop in his study, which was nearly choked up by euschemon's bell. the prelate received him with the greatest affability, and expressed a sincere hope that the very particular arrangements he had enjoined for the comfort of his distinguished prisoner had been faithfully carried out by his subordinates. the sorcerer, as much a man of the world as the bishop, thanked his lordship, and protested that he had been perfectly comfortable. "i have need of thy art," said the bishop, coming to business. "i am exceedingly bothered--flabbergasted were not too strong an expression--by this confounded bell. all my best exorcists have been trying all they know with it, to no purpose. they might as well have tried to exorcise my mitre from my head by any other charm than the offer of a better one. magic is plainly the only remedy, and if thou canst disenchant it, i will give thee thy freedom." "it will be a tough business," observed the sorcerer, surveying the bell with the eye of a connoisseur. "it will require fumigations." "yes," said the bishop, "and suffumigations." "aloes and mastic," advised the sorcerer. "aye," assented the bishop, "and red sanders." "we must call in primeumaton," said the warlock. "clearly," said the bishop, "and amioram." "triangles," said the sorcerer. "pentacles," said the bishop. "in the hour of methon," said the sorcerer. "i should have thought tafrac," suggested the bishop, "but i defer to your better judgment." "i can have the blood of a goat?" queried the wizard. "yes," said the bishop, "and of a monkey also." "does your lordship think that one might venture to go so far as a little unweaned child?" "if absolutely necessary," said the bishop. "i am delighted to find such liberality of sentiment on your lordship's part," said the sorcerer. "your lordship is evidently of the profession." "these are things which stuck by me when i was an inquisitor," explained the bishop, with some little embarrassment. ere long all arrangements were made. it would be impossible to enumerate half the crosses, circles, pentagrams, naked swords, cross-bones, chafing-dishes, and vials of incense which the sorcerer found to be necessary. the child was fortunately deemed superfluous. euschemon was brought up from his dungeon, and, his teeth chattering with fright and cold, set beside his bell to hold a candle to the devil. the incantations commenced, and speedily gave evidence of their efficacy. the bell trembled, swayed, split open, and a female figure of transcendent loveliness attired in the costume of eve stepped forth and extended her lips towards the bishop. what could the bishop do but salute them? with a roar of triumph the demon resumed his proper shape. the bishop swooned. the apartment was filled with the fumes of sulphur. the devil soared majestically out of the window, carrying the sorcerer under one arm and euschemon under the other. it is commonly believed that the devil good-naturedly dropped euschemon back again into paradise, or wheresoever he might have come from. it is even added that he fell between eulogius and eucherius, who had been arguing all the time respecting the merits of their bells, and resumed his share in the discussion as if nothing had happened. some maintain, indeed, that the devil, chancing to be in want of a chaplain, offered the situation to euschemon, by whom it was accepted. but how to reconcile this assertion with the undoubted fact that the duties of the post in question are at present ably discharged by the bishop of metz, in truth we see not. one thing is certain: thou wilt not find euschemon's name in the calendar, courteous reader. the mulct to be imposed upon the parish of epinal was never exacted. the bell, ruptured beyond repair by the demon's violent exit, was taken back and deposited in the museum of the town. the bells of eulogius and eucherius were rung freely on occasion; but epinal has not since enjoyed any greater immunity from storms than the contiguous districts. one day an aged traveller, who had spent many years in heathenesse and in whom some discerned a remarkable resemblance to the sorcerer, noticed the bell, and asked permission to examine it. he soon discovered the inscription, recognised the mysterious characters as greek, read them without the least difficulty-- "[greek: mæ kinei kamarinan akinætos gar ameinoon]--" and favoured the townsmen with this free but substantially accurate translation:-- "can't you let well alone?" bishop addo and bishop gaddo midday, midsummer, middle of the dark ages. fine healthy weather at the city of biserta in barbary. wind blowing strong from the sea, roughening the dark blue waters, and fretting their indigo with foam, as though the ocean's coursers champed an invisible curb. on land tawny sand whirling, green palm-fans swaying and whistling, men abroad in the noonday blaze rejoicing in the unwonted freshness. "she is standing in," they cried, "and, by the prophet, she seemeth not a ship of the true believers." she was not, but she bore a flag of truce. pitching and rearing, the little bark bounded in, and soon was fast in harbour. ere long messengers of peace had landed, bearing presents and a letter from the bishop of amalfi to the emir of biserta. the presents consisted of fifty casks of lacrima christi, and of a captive, a tall, noble-looking man, in soiled ecclesiastical costume, and disfigured by the loss of his left eye, which seemed to have been violently plucked out. "health to the emir!" ran the letter. "i send thee my captive, gaddo, sometime bishop of amalfi, now an ejected intruder. for what saith the scripture? 'when a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace; but if one stronger than he cometh, he divideth the spoils.' moreover it is written: 'his bishopric let another take.' having solemnly sworn that i would not kill or blind or maim my enemy, or imprison him in a monastery, and the price of absolution from an oath in this corrupt age exceeding all reason and christian moderation, i knew not how to take vengeance on him, until a sagacious counsellor represented that a man cannot be said to be blinded so long as he is deprived of only one eye. this i accordingly eradicated, and now, being restrained from imprisoning him, and fearing to release him, i send him to thee, to retain in captivity on my behalf; in return for which service, receive fifty casks of the choicest lacrima christi, which shall not fail to be sent thee yearly, so long as gaddo continues in thy custody. "+ addo, by divine permission bishop of amalfi." "first," said the emir, "i would be certified whether this vintage is indeed of such excellence as to prevail upon a faithful mussulman to jeopard paradise, the same being forbidden by his law." experiments were instituted forthwith, and the problem was resolved in the affirmative. "this being so," declared the emir, "honour and good faith towards bishop addo require that bishop gaddo be kept captive with all possible strictness. yet bolts may be burst, fetters may be filed, walls may be scaled, doors may be broken through. better to enchain the captive's soul, binding him with invisible bonds, and searing out of him the very wish to escape. embrace the faith of the prophet," continued he, addressing gaddo; "become a mollah." "no," said the deposed bishop, "my inclination hath ever been towards a military life. at present, mutilated and banished as i am, i rather affect the crown of martyrdom." "thou shalt receive it by instalments," said the emir. "thou shalt work at the new pavilion in my garden." unceasing toil under the blazing sun, combined with the discipline of the overseers, speedily wore down gaddo's strength, already impaired by captivity and ill-treatment. unable to drag himself away after his fellow-workmen had ceased from their labours, he lay one evening, faint and almost senseless, among the stones and rubbish of the unfinished edifice. the emir's daughter passed by. gaddo was handsome and wretched, the princess was beautiful and compassionate. conveyed by her fair hands, a cup of bishop addo's wine saved bishop gaddo's life. the next evening gaddo again lingered behind, and the princess spoke to him out of her balcony. the third evening they encountered in an arbour. the next meeting took place in her chamber, where her father discovered them. "i will tear thee to pieces with pincers," shouted he to gaddo. "your highness will not be guilty of that black action," responded gaddo resolutely. "no?" roared the emir. "no? and what shall hinder me?" "the lacrima christi will hinder your highness," returned the far-seeing gaddo. "deems your highness that bishop addo will send another cupful, once he is assured of my death?" "thou sayest well," rejoined the emir. "i may not slay thee. but my daughter is manifestly most inflammable, wherefore i will burn her." "were it not better to circumcise me?" suggested gaddo. many difficulties were raised, but ayesha's mother siding with gaddo, and promising a more amicable deportment for the future towards the other lights of the harem, the matter was arranged, and gaddo recited the mahometan profession of faith, and became the emir's son-in-law. the execrable social system under which he had hitherto lived thus vanished like a nightmare from an awakened sleeper. wedded to one who had saved his life by her compassion, and whose life he had in turn saved by his change of creed, adoring her and adored by her, with the hope of children, and active contact with multitudes of other interests from which he had hitherto been estranged, he forgot the ecclesiastic in the man; his intellect expanded, his ideas multiplied, he cleared his mind of cant, and became an eminent philosopher. "dear son," said the emir to him one day, "the lacrima is spent, we thirst, and the tribute of that christian dog, the bishop of amalfi, tarries to arrive. we will presently fit out certain vessels, and thou shalt hold a visitation of thine ancient diocese." "methinks i see a ship even now," said gaddo; and he was right. she anchored, the ambassadors landed and addressed the emir: "prince, we bring thee the stipulated tribute, yet not without a trifling deduction." "deduction!" exclaimed the emir, bending his brows ominously. "highness," they represented, "by reason of the deficiency of last year's vintage it hath not been possible to provide more than forty-nine casks, which we crave to offer thee accordingly." "then," pronounced the emir sententiously, "the compact is broken, the ship is confiscated, and war is declared." "not so, highness," said they, "for the fiftieth cask is worth all the rest." "let it be opened," commanded the emir. it was accordingly hoisted out, deposited on the quay, and prized open; and from its capacious interior, in a deplorable plight from hunger, cramp, and sea-sickness, was extracted--bishop addo. "we have," explained the deputation, "wearied of our shepherd, who, shearing his flock somewhat too closely, hath brought the wolf to light. we therefore desire thee to receive him at our hands in exchange for our good bishop gaddo, promising one hundred casks of lacrima christi as yearly tribute for the future." "he stands before you," answered the emir; "take him, an ye can prevail upon him to return with you." the eyes of the envoys wandered hopelessly from one whiskered, turbaned, caftaned, and yataghaned figure to another. they could not discover that any of the paynim present looked more or less like a bishop than his fellows. "brethren," said gaddo, taking compassion on their bewilderment, "behold me! i thank you for your kindly thought of me, but how to profit by it i see not. i have become a saracen. i have pronounced the mahometan confession. i am circumcised. i am known by the name of mustapha." "we acknowledge the weight of your lordship's objections," they said, "and do but venture to hint remotely that the times are hard, and that the holy father is grievously in want of money." "i have also taken a wife," said gaddo. "a wife!" exclaimed they with one consent. "if it had been a concubine! let us return instantly." they gathered up their garments and spat upon the ground. "a bishop, then," inquired gaddo, "may be guilty of any enormity sooner than wedlock, which money itself cannot expiate?" "such," they answered, "is the law and the prophets." "unless," added one of benignant aspect, "he sew the abomination up in a sack and cast her into the sea, then peradventure he may yet find place for repentance." "miserable blasphemers!" exclaimed gaddo. "but why," continued he, checking himself, "do i talk of what none will understand for five hundred years, which to understand myself i was obliged to become a saracen? addo," he pursued, addressing his dejected competitor, "bad as thou art, thou art good enough for the world as it is. i spare thy life, restore thy dignity, and, to prove that the precepts of christ may be practised under the garb of mahomet, will not even exact eye for eye. yet, as a wholesome admonition to thee that treachery and cruelty escape not punishment even in this life, i will that thou do presently surrender to me thy left ear. restore my eye and i will return it immediately. and ye," addressing the envoys, "will for the future pay one hundred casks tribute, unless ye would see my father-in-law's galleys on your coasts." so addo returned to his bishopric, leaving his ear in gaddo's keeping. the lacrima was punctually remitted, and as punctually absorbed by the emir and his son-in-law, with some little help from ayesha. gaddo's eye never came back, and addo never regained his ear until, after the ex-prelate's death in years and honour, he ransomed it from his representatives. it became a relic, and is shown in addo's cathedral to this day in proof of his inveterate enmity to the misbelievers, and of the sufferings he underwent at their hands. but gaddo trumped him, the entry after his name in the episcopal register, "fled to the saracens," having been altered into "flayed by the saracens" by a later bishop, jealous of the honour of the diocese. the philosopher and the butterflies the scene was in a garden on a fine summer morning, brilliant with slants of sunshine, yet chequered with clouds significant of more than a remote possibility of rain. all the animal world was astir. birds flitted or hopped from spray to spray; butterflies eddied around flowers within or upon which bees were bustling; ants and earwigs ran nimbly about on the mould; a member of the universal knowledge society perambulated the gravel path. the universal knowledge society, be it understood, exists for the dissemination and not for the acquisition of knowledge. our philosopher, therefore, did not occupy himself with considering whether in that miniature world, with its countless varieties of animal and vegetable being, something might not be found with which he was himself unacquainted; but, like the honey-freighted bee, rather sought an opportunity of disburdening himself of his stores of information than of adding to them. but who was to profit by his communicativeness? the noisy birds could not hear themselves speak, much less him; he shrewdly distrusted his ability to command the attention of the busy bees; and even a member of the universal knowledge society may well be at a loss for a suitable address to an earwig. at length he determined to accost a butterfly who, after sipping the juice of a flower, remained perched indolently upon it, apparently undecided whither to direct his flight. "it seems likely to rain," he said, "have you an umbrella?" the butterfly looked curiously at him, but returned no answer. "i do not ask," resumed the philosopher, "as one who should imply that the probability of even a complete saturation ought to appal a ratiocinative being, endowed with wisdom and virtue. i rather designed to direct your attention to the inquiry whether these attributes are, in fact, rightly predicable of butterflies." still no answer. "an impression obtains among our own species," continued the philosopher, "that you butterflies are deficient in foresight and providence to a remarkable, i might almost say a culpable degree. pardon me if i add that this suspicion is to some extent confirmed by my finding you destitute of protection against imbriferous inclemency under atmospheric conditions whose contingent humidity should be obvious to a being endowed with the most ordinary allotment of meteorological prevision." the butterfly still left all the talk to the philosopher. this was just what the latter desired. "i greatly fear," he continued, "that the omission to which i have reluctantly adverted is to a certain extent typically characteristic of the entire political and social economy of the lepidopterous order. it has even been stated, though the circumstance appears scarcely credible, that your system of life does not include the accumulation of adequate resources against the inevitable exigencies of winter." "what is winter?" asked the butterfly, and flew off without awaiting an answer. the philosopher remained for a moment speechless, whether from amazement at the butterfly's nescience or disgust at his ill-breeding. recovering himself immediately, he shouted after the fugitive: "frivolous animal!" "it is this levity," continued he, addressing a group of butterflies who had gradually assembled in the air, attracted by the conversation, "it is this fatal levity that constrains me to despair wholly of the future of you insects. that you should persistently remain at your present depressed level! that you should not immediately enter upon a process of self-development! look at the bee! how did she acquire her sting, think you? why cannot you store up honey, as she does?" "we cannot build cells," suggested a butterfly. "and how did the bee learn, do you suppose, unless by imbuing her mind with the elementary principles of mathematics? know that time has been when the bee was as incapable of architectural construction as yourselves, when you and she alike were indiscriminable particles of primary protoplasm. (i suppose you know what that is.) one has in process of time exalted itself to the cognition of mathematical truth, while the other--pshaw! now, really, my friends, i must beg you to take my observations in good part. i do not imply, of course, that any endeavours of yours in the direction i have indicated could benefit any of you personally, or any of your posterity for numberless generations. but i really do consider that after a while its effects would be very observable--that in twenty millions of years or so, provided no geological cataclysm supervened, you butterflies, with your innate genius for mimicry, might be conformed in all respects to the hymenopterous model, or perhaps carry out the principle of development into novel and unheard-of directions. you should derive much encouragement from the beginning you have made already." "how a beginning?" inquired a butterfly. "i am alluding to your larval constitution as caterpillars," returned the philosopher. "your advance upon that humiliating condition is, i admit, remarkable. i only wonder that it should not have proceeded much further. with such capacity for development, it is incomprehensible that you should so long have remained stationary. you ought to be all toads by this time, at the very least." "i beg your pardon," civilly interposed the butterfly. "to what condition were you pleased to allude?" "to that of a caterpillar," rejoined the philosopher. "caterpillar!" echoed the butterfly, and "caterpillar!" tittered all his volatile companions, till the air seemed broken into little silvery waves of fairy laughter. "caterpillar! he positively thinks we were once caterpillars! he! he! he!" "do you actually mean to say you don't know that?" responded the philosopher, scandalised at the irreverence of the insects, but inwardly rejoicing at the prospect of a controversy in which he could not be worsted. "we know nothing of the sort," rejoined a butterfly. "can you possibly be plunged into such utter oblivion of your embryonic antecedents?" "we do not understand you. all we know is that we have always been butterflies." "sir," said a large, dull-looking butterfly with one wing in tatters, crawling from under a cabbage, and limping by reason of the deficiency of several legs, "let me entreat you not to deduce our scientific status from the inconsiderate assertions of the unthinking vulgar. i am proud to assure you that our race comprises many philosophical reasoners--mostly indeed such as have been disabled by accidental injuries from joining in the amusements of the rest. the origin of our species has always occupied a distinguished place in their investigations. it has on several occasions engaged the attention of our profoundest thinkers for not less than two consecutive minutes. there is hardly a quadruped on the land, a bird in the air, or a fish in the water to which it has not been ascribed by some one at some time; but never, i am rejoiced to say, has any butterfly ever dreamed of attributing it to the obnoxious thing to which you have unaccountably made reference." "we should rather think not," chorussed all the butterflies. "look here," said the philosopher, picking up and exhibiting a large hairy caterpillar of very unprepossessing appearance. "look here, what do you call this?" "an abnormal organisation," said the scientific butterfly. "a nasty beast," said the others. "heavens," exclaimed the philosopher, "the obtuseness and arrogance of these creatures! no, my poor friend," continued he, addressing the caterpillar, "disdain you as they may, and unpromising as your aspect certainly is at present, the time is at" hand when you will prank it with the gayest of them all." "i cry your mercy," rejoined the caterpillar somewhat crossly, "but i was digesting a gooseberry leaf when you lifted me in that abrupt manner, and i did not quite follow your remarks. did i understand you to mention my name in connection with those flutterers?" "i said the time would arrive when you would be even as they." "i," exclaimed the caterpillar, "i retrograde to the level of a butterfly! is not the ideal of creation impersonated in me already?" "i was not aware of that," replied the philosopher, "although," he added in a conciliatory tone, "far be it from me to deny you the possession of many interesting qualities." "you probably refer to my agility," suggested the caterpillar; "or perhaps to my abstemiousness?" "i was not referring to either," returned the philosopher. "to my utility to mankind?" "not by any manner of means." "to what then?" "well, if you must know, the best thing about you appears to me to be the prospect you enjoy of ultimately becoming a butterfly." the caterpillar erected himself upon his tail, and looked sternly at the philosopher. the philosopher's countenance fell. a thrush, darting from an adjacent tree, seized the opportunity and the insect, and bore the latter away in his bill. at the same moment the shower prognosticated by the sage burst forth, scattering the butterflies in all directions, drenching the philosopher, whose foresight had not assumed the shape of an umbrella, and spoiling his new hat. but he had ample consolation in the superiority of his head. and the caterpillar was right too, for after all he never did become a butterfly. truth and her companions _jupiter_. daughter truth, is this a befitting manner of presenting yourself before your divine father? you are positively dripping; the floor of my celestial mansion would be a swamp but for your praiseworthy economy in wearing apparel. whence, in the name of the naiads, do you come? _truth_. from the bottom of a well, father. _jupiter_. i thought, my daughter, that you had descended upon earth in the capacity of a benefactress of men rather than of frogs. _truth_. such, indeed, was my purpose, father, and i accordingly repaired to the great city. _jupiter_. the city of the emperor apollyon? _truth_. the same; and i there obtained an audience of the monarch. _jupiter_. what passed? _truth_. i took the liberty of observing to him, father, that, having obtained his throne by perjury, and cemented it by blood, and maintained it by hypocrisy, he could entertain no hope of preserving it unless the collective baseness of his subjects should be found to exceed his own, which was not probable. _jupiter_. what reply did he vouchsafe to these admonitions? _truth_. he threatened to cut out my tongue. perceiving that this would interfere with my utility to mankind, i retired somewhat precipitately from the imperial presence, marvelling that i should ever have been admitted, and resolved never to be found there for the future. i then proceeded to the nobles. _jupiter_. what said you to them? _truth_. i represented to them that they were, as a class, both arrogant and luxurious, and would, indeed, have long ago become insupportable, only that the fabric which their rapacity was for ever striving to erect, their extravagance as perpetually undermined. i further commented upon the insecurity of any institution dependent solely upon prescription. finding these suggestions unpalatable, i next addressed myself to the priesthood. _jupiter_. those holy men, my daughter, must have rejoiced at the opportunity of learning from you which portion of their traditions was impure or fabricated, and which authentic and sublime. _truth_. the value they placed upon my instructions was such that they wished to reserve them exclusively for themselves, and proposed that they should be delivered within the precincts of a certain subterranean apartment termed a dungeon, the key of which should be kept by one of their order. whereupon i betook myself to the philosophers. _jupiter_. your reception from these professed lovers of wisdom, my daughter, was, no doubt, all that could be expected. _truth_. it was all that could be expected, my father, from learned and virtuous men, who had already framed their own systems of the universe without consulting me. _jupiter_. you probably next addressed yourself to the middling orders of society? _truth_. i can scarcely say that i did, father; for although i had much to remark concerning their want of culture, and their servility, and their greed, and the absurdity of many of their customs, and the rottenness of most of their beliefs, and the thousand ways in which they spoiled lives that might have been beautiful and harmonious, i soon discovered that they were so absolutely swayed by the example of the higher orders that it was useless to expostulate with them until i should have persuaded the latter. _jupiter_. you returned, then, to the latter with this design? _truth_. on the contrary, i hastened to the poor and needy, whom i fully acquainted with the various wrongs and oppressions which they underwent at the hands of the powerful and the rich. and here, for the first time, i found myself welcome. all listened with gratitude and assent, and none made any endeavour to stone me or imprison me, as those other unprincipled persons had done. _jupiter_. that was indeed satisfactory, daughter. but when you proceeded to point out to these plebeians how much of their misery arose from their own idleness, and ignorance, and dissoluteness, and abasement before those higher in station, and jealousy of the best among themselves--what said they to that? _truth_. they expressed themselves desirous of killing me, and indeed would have done so if my capital enemies, the priests, had not been beforehand with them. _jupiter_. what did they? _truth_. burned me. _jupiter_. burned you? _truth_. burned me in the market-place. and, but for my peculiar property of reviving from my ashes, i should not be here now. upon reconsolidating myself, i felt in such a heat that i was fain to repair to the bottom of the nearest well. finding myself more comfortable there than i had ever yet been on earth, i have come to ask permission to remain. _jupiter_. it does not appear to me, daughter, that the mission you have undertaken on behalf of mankind can be efficiently discharged at the bottom of a well. _truth_. no, father, nor in the middle of a fire either. _jupiter_. i fear that you are too plain and downright in your dealings with men, and deter where you ought to allure. _truth_. i were not truth, else, but flattery. my nature is a mirror's--to exhibit reality with plainness and faithfulness. _jupiter_. it is no less the nature of man to shatter every mirror that does not exhibit to him what he wishes to behold. _truth_. let me, therefore, return to my well, and let him who wishes to behold me, if such there be, repair to the brink and look down. _jupiter_. no, daughter, you shall not return to your well. i have already perceived that you are not of yourself sufficient for the office i have assigned to you, and i am about to provide you with two auxiliaries. you are truth. tell me how this one appears to you. _truth_. oh, father, the beautiful nymph! how mature, and yet how comely! how good-humoured, yet how gentle and grave! her robe is closely zoned; her upraised finger approaches her lip; her foot falls soft as snow. what is her name? _jupiter_. discretion. and this other? _truth_. oh, father! the cordial look, the blooming cheek, the bright smile that is almost a laugh, the buoyant step, and the expansive bosom! what name bears she? _jupiter_. good nature. return, my daughter, to earth; continue to enlighten man's ignorance and to reprove his folly; but let discretion suggest the occasion, and good nature inspire the wording of your admonitions. i cannot engage that you may not, even with these precautions, sometimes pay a visit to the stake; and if, when an adventure of this sort appears imminent, discretion should counsel a temporary retirement to your well, i am sure good nature will urge nothing to the contrary. the three palaces three pairs of young people, each a youth with his bride, came together along a road to the point where it divided to the right and left. on one side was inscribed, "to the palace of truth," and on the other, "to the palace of illusion." "this way, my beauty!" cried one of the youths, drawing his companion in the direction of the palace of truth. "to the place where and where alone thy perfections may be beheld as they are!" "and my imperfections!" whispered the young spouse, but her tone was airy and confident. "well," said the second youth, "does the choice beseem you upon whom the moon of your nuptials is beaming still. my beloved and i are riper in hymen's lore by not less, i ween, than one fortnight. prudence impels us towards the palace of illusion." "thy will is mine, alonso," said his lady. "i," said the third youth, "will seek neither; for i would not be wise over-much, while of what i deem myself to know i would be well assured. happy am i, and bless my lot, yet have i beheld a red mouse in closer contiguity to my beloved than i could bring myself to approve, albeit it leapt not from her mouth as they do sometimes. yet do i know it for a red mouse and nothing worse; had i inhabited the palace of illusion haply i had deemed it a rat. and, it being a red mouse as it indubitably was, to what end fancy it a tawny-throated nightingale?" while, therefore, the other pairs proceeded on the paths they had respectively chosen, this sage youth and his bride settled themselves at the parting of the ways, built their cot, tended their garden, tilled their field and raised fruits around them, including children. the preparation of a cheerful repast was one day well advanced, when, lifting up their eyes, the pair beheld a haggard and emaciated couple tottering along the road that led from the palace of illusion. "heavens!" exclaimed they simultaneously, "no! yes! 'tis surely they!" o friends! whence this forlorn semblance? whence this osseous condition?" "of them anon," replied the attenuated youth, "but, before all things, dinner!" the restorative was speedily administered, and the pilgrim commenced his narration. "guarded," he said, "though the palace of illusion was by every species of hippogriffic chimaera, my bride and i experienced no difficulty in penetrating inside its precincts. the giants lifted us in their arms, the dragons carried us on their backs, fairy bridges spanned the moats, golden ladders inclined against the ramparts, we scaled the towers and trod the courts securely, though constructed to all seeming of dissolving cloud. delicate fare loaded every dish; smiling companions invited to every festivity; perfumes caressed our nostrils; music enwrapped our ears. "but while all else charmed and allured, one fact intruded of which we could not pretend unconsciousness, the intensity of our aversion for each other. never could i behold my imogene without marvelling whatever could have induced me to wed her, and she has acknowledged that she laboured under the like perplexity. on the other hand, our good opinion of ourselves had grown prodigiously. the other's dislike appeared to each an insane delusion, and we seriously questioned whether it could be right to mate longer with a being so destitute of true aesthetic feeling. we confided these scruples to each other, with the result of a most tempestuous altercation. "as this was attaining its climax, one of the inmates of the palace, a pert forward boy, resembling a page out of livery, passed by, and ironically, as i thought, congratulated us on the strength of our mutual attachment. 'never,' exclaimed he, 'have i beheld the like here before, and i am the oldest inhabitant.' "as this felicitation was proffered at the precise moment when i was engaged in staunching a rent in my cheek with a handful of my wife's hair, i was constrained to regard it as unseasonable, and expressed myself to that effect. "'what!' exclaimed he, with equal surprise, 'know ye not that this is the palace of illusion, where everything is inverted and appears the reverse of itself? intense indeed must be the affection which can thus drive you to fisticuffs! had i beheld you billing and cooing, truly i had counselled a judicial separation!' "my wife and i looked at each other, and by a common impulse made at our utmost speed for the gate of the palace of illusion. "alas! it is one thing to enter and another to quit that domain of enchantment. the golden clouds enwrapt us still, cates and dainties tempted us as of old, the most bewitching strains detained us spellbound. the giant and dragon warders, indeed, offered no violent resistance, they simply turned into open portals which appeared to yield us egress, but proved entrances to interminable labyrinthine mazes. at last we escaped by resolutely, following the exact opposite track to that which we observed to be taken by a poet, who was chasing a phantom of fame with a scroll of unintelligible and inharmonious verse. "the moment that we emerged from the enchanted castle we knew ourselves and each other for what we were, and fell weeping into each other's arms. so feeble were we that we could hardly move, nevertheless we have made a shift to crawl hither, trusting to your hospitality to recruit us from the sawdust and ditch-water which we vehemently suspect to have been our diet during the whole of our residence." "eat and drink without stint and without ceremony," rejoined their host, "provided only that somewhat remain for the guests whom i see approaching." and in a few moments the fugitives from the palace of illusion were reinforced by travellers from the palace of truth, whose backs were most determinately turned to that august edifice. "my friends," said the youth last arrived, when the first greetings were over, "truth's palace might be a not ineligible residence were not the inmates necessitated not merely to know the truth but to speak it, and did not all innocent embellishments of her majestic person become entirely inefficient and absolutely nugatory. for example, the number of my wife's grey hairs speedily confounded me; and how should it be otherwise, when the excellent dye she had brought with her had completely lost its virtues? she on her part found herself continually obliged to acquaint me with the manifold defects she was daily discovering in my mind and person, which i was unable to deny, frequently as i opened my mouth for that purpose. it is true that i had the satisfaction of pointing out equal defects in herself; but this could not be considered a great satisfaction, seeing that every such discovery impugned my taste and judgment, and impaired the worth of my most cherished possession. at length we resolved that truth and we were not made for each other, and, having verified the accuracy of this conclusion by uttering it unrebuked in truth's own palace, quitted the unblest spot with all possible expedition. no sooner were we outside than our tenderness revived, and, the rites of reconciliation duly performed, my wife found nothing more urgent than to try whether her dye had recovered its natural properties, which, as ye may perceive, proved to be the case. we are now bound for the palace of illusion." "nay," said he who had escaped thence, "if my experience suffices not to deter you, learn that they who have known truth can never taste of illusion. illusion is for life's golden prime, its fanes and pavilions may be reared but by the magic wand of youth. the maturity that would recreate them builds not for illusion but for deceit. yet, lest mortality should despair, there exists, as i have learned, yet another palace, founded midway between that of illusion and that of truth, open to those who are too soft for the one and too hard for the other. thither, indeed, the majority of mankind in this age resort, and there appear to find themselves comfortable." "and this palace is?" inquired truth's runaways simultaneously. "the palace of convention," replied the youth. new readings in biography i.--timon of athens no, it was not true that timon was dead, and buried on the sea-shore. so the first party discovered that hastened to his cave at the tidings, thinking to seize his treasure, and had their heads broken for their pains. but the second party fared better; for these were robbers, captained by alcibiades, who had taken to the road, as many a man of spirit, has done before and since. they took timon's gold, and left him bound in his chair. but on the way home the lesser thieves mysteriously disappeared, and the gold became the sole property of alcibiades. as it is written, "the tools to him that can handle them." timon sat many hours in an uncomfortable position, and though, in a general way, he abhorred the face of man, he was not displeased when a gentleman of bland appearance entered the cavern, and made him a low obeisance. and perceiving that timon was bound, the bland man exclaimed with horror, and severed his bonds, ere one could say themistocles. and in an instant the cavern was filled with athenian senators. "hail," they cried, "to timon the munificent! hail to timon the compassionate! hail to timon the lover of his kind!" "i am none of these things," said timon. "i am timon the misanthrope." "this must be my lord's wit and playfulness," said the bland man, "for how else should the senate and the people have passed a decree, indited by myself, ordering an altar to be raised to timon the benefactor, and appointing him chief archon? but come, hand over thy treasure, that thy installation may take effect with due observance." "i have been deprived of my treasure," said timon. but the ambassadors gave him no credit until they had searched every chink and crevice in the cavern, and dug up all the earth round the entrance. they then regarded each other with blank consternation. "let us leave him as we found him," said one. "let us hang him up," said another. "let us sell him into captivity," said a third. "nay, friends," said the bland gentleman, "such confession of error would impeach our credit as statesmen. moreover, should the people learn that timon has lost his money, they will naturally conclude that we have taken it. let us, therefore, keep this misfortune from their knowledge, and trust for relief to the chapter of accidents, as usual in state affairs." they therefore robed timon in a dress of honour, and conducted him to athens, where half the inhabitants were awaiting him. two triumphal arches spanned the principal street, and on one was inscribed "timon the benefactor," and on the other "timon the friend of humanity." and all along, far as the eye could reach, stood those whom his bounty, as was stated, had rescued from perdition, the poor he had relieved, the sick he had medicined, the orphans he had fathered, the poets and painters he had patronised, all lauding and thanking him, and soliciting a continuance of his liberality. and the rabble cried "largesse, largesse!" and horsemen galloped forth, casting among them nuts enveloped in silver-leaf and apples and comfits and trinkets and brass farthings in incredible quantities. at which the people murmured somewhat, and spoke amiss respecting timon and the senators who escorted him, and the bland gentleman strove to keep timon between himself and the populace. while timon was pondering what the end of these things should be, his mob encountered another cheering for alcibiades, and playing pitch and toss with drachmas and didrachmas and tetradrachmas, yea, even with staters and darics. "long live alcibiades," cried timon's followers, as they attacked alcibiades's supporters to get their share. "long live timon," cried alcibiades's party, as they defended themselves. timon and alcibiades extricated themselves from the scuffle, and walked away arm in arm. "my dear friend," said timon, "how inexpressibly beholden i am to you for taking the burden of my wealth upon yourself! there is nothing i would not do to evince my gratitude." "nothing?" queried alcibiades. "nothing," persisted timon. "then," said alcibiades, "i will thank thee to relieve me of timandra, who is as tired of me as i am of her." timon winced horribly, but his word was his bond, and timandra accompanied him to his cavern, where at first she suffered much inconvenience from the roughness of the accommodation. but timon, though a misanthrope, was not a brute; and when in process of time timandra's health required special care, rugs and pillows were provided for her, and also for timon; for he saw that he could no longer pass for a churl if he made his wife more comfortable than himself. and, though he counted gold as dross, yet was he not dissatisfied that timandra had saved the gold he had given her formerly against a rainy day. and when a child was born, timon was at his wits' end, and blessed the old woman who came to nurse it. and she admonished him of his duty to the gods, which meant sacrifice, which meant merry-making. and the child grew, and craved food and drink, and timon possessed himself of three acres and a cow. and not being able to doubt his child's affection for him, he came to believe in timandra's also. and when the tax-gatherer oppressed his neighbours, he pleaded their cause, which was also his own, in the courts of athens, and gained it by the interest of alcibiades. and his neighbours made him demarch, and he feasted them. and apemantus came to deride him, and timon bore with him; but he was impertinent to timandra, and timon beat him. and in fine, timon became very like any other attic country gentleman, save that he always maintained that a young man did well to be a misanthrope until he got a loving and sensible wife, which, as he observed, could but seldom happen. and the gods looked down upon him with complacency, and deferred the ruin of athens until he should be no more. ii.--napoleon's sangaree napoleon buonaparte sat in his garden at st. helena, in the shadow of a fig-tree. before him stood a little table, and upon the table stood a glass of sangaree. the day was hot and drowsy; the sea boomed monotonously on the rocks; the broad fig-leaves stirred not; great flies buzzed heavily in the sultry air. napoleon wore a loose linen coat and a broad brimmed planter's hat, and looked as red as the sangaree, but nowise as comfortable. "to think," he said aloud, "that i should end my life here, with nothing to sweeten my destiny but this lump of sugar!" and he dropped it into the sangaree, and little ripples and beads broke out on the surface of the liquid. "thou should'st have followed me," said a voice. "me," said another. and a steam from the sangaree rose high over napoleon's head, and from it shaped themselves two beautiful female figures. one was fair and very youthful, with a phrygian cap on her head, and eager eyes beneath it, and a slender spear in her hand. the other was somewhat older, and graver, and darker, with serious eyes; and she carried a sword, and wore a helmet, from underneath which her rich brown tresses escaped over her vesture of light steel armour. "i am liberty," said the first. "i am loyalty," said the second. and napoleon laid his hand in that of the first spirit, and instantly saw himself as he had been in the days of his youthful victories, only beset with a multitude of people who were offering him a crown, and cheering loudly. but he thrust it aside, and they cheered ten times more, and fell into each other's arms, and wept and kissed each other. and troops of young maidens robed in white danced before him, strewing his way with flowers. and the debts of the debtor were paid, and the prisoners were released from captivity. and the forty academicians came bringing napoleon the prize of virtue. and the abbé sieyès stood up, and offered napoleon his choice of seventeen constitutions; and napoleon chose the worst. and he came to sit with five hundred other men, mostly advocates. and when he said "yea," they said "nay"; and when he said "white," they said "black." and they suffered him to do neither good nor evil, and when he went to war they commanded his army for him, until he was smitten with a great slaughter. and the enemy entered the country, and bread was scarce and wine dear; and the people cursed napoleon, and liberty vanished from before him. but he roamed on, ever looking for her, and at length he found her lying dead in the public way, all gashed and bleeding, and trampled with the feet of men and horses, and the wheel of a tumbril was over her neck. and napoleon, under compulsion of the mob, ascended the tumbril; and abbé sieyès and bishop talleyrand rode at his side, administering spiritual consolation. thus they came within sight of the guillotine, whereon stood m. de robespierre in his sky-blue coat, and his jaw bound up in a bloody cloth, bowing and smiling, nevertheless, and beckoning napoleon to ascend to him. napoleon had never feared the face of man; but when he saw m. de robespierre great dread fell upon him, and he leapt out of the tumbril, and fled amain, passing amid the people as it were mid withered leaves, until he came where loyalty stood awaiting him. she took his hand in hers, and, lo! another great host of people proffering him a crown, save one little old man, who alone of them all wore his hair in a queue with powder. "see," said the little old man, "that thou takest not what doth not belong to thee." "to whom belongeth it then?" asked napoleon, "for i am a plain soldier, and have no skill in politics." "to louis the disesteemed," said the little old man, "for he is a great-great-nephew of the princess of schwoffingen, whose ancestors reigned here at the flood." "where dwells louis the disesteemed?" asked napoleon. "in england," said the little old man. napoleon therefore repaired to england, and sought for louis the disesteemed. but none could direct him, save that it behoved him to seek in the obscurest places. and one day, as he was passing through a mean street, he heard a voice of lamentation, and perceived a man whose coat and shirt were rent and dirty; but not so his pantaloons, for he had none. "who art thou, thou pantaloonless one?" asked he, "and wherefore makest thou this lamentation?" "i am louis the esteemed, king of france and navarre," replied the distrousered personage, "and i lament for my pantaloons, which i have been enforced to pawn, inasmuch as the broker would advance nothing upon my coat or my shirt." and napoleon went upon his knees and divested himself of his own nether garments, and arrayed the king therein, to the great diversion of those who stood about. "thou hast done wickedly," said the king when he heard who napoleon was, "in that thou hast presumed to fight battles and win victories without any commission from me. go, nevertheless, and lose an arm, a leg, and an eye in my service, then shall thy offence be forgiven thee." and napoleon raised a great army, and gained a great battle for the king, and lost an arm. and he gained another greater battle, and lost a leg. and he gained the greatest battle of all; and the king sat on the throne of his ancestors, and was called louis the victorious: but napoleon had lost an eye. and he came into the king's presence, bearing his eye, his arm, and his leg. "thou art pardoned," said the king, "and i will even confer a singular honour upon thee. thou shalt defray the expense of my coronation, which shall be the most splendid ever seen in france." so napoleon lost all his substance, and no man pitied him. but after certain days the keeper of the royal wardrobe rushed into the king's presence, crying "treason! treason! o majesty, whence these republican and revolutionary pantaloons?" "they are those i deigned to receive from the rebel buonaparte," said the king. "it were meet to return them. where abides he now?" "saving your majesty's presence," they said, "he lieth upon a certain dunghill." "if this be so," said the king, "life can be no gratification to him, and it were humane to relieve him of it. moreover, he is a dangerous man. go, therefore, and strangle him with his own pantaloons. yet, let a monument be raised to him, and engrave upon it, 'here lies napoleon buonaparte, whom louis the victorious raised from the dunghill.'" they went accordingly; but behold! napoleon already lay dead upon the dunghill. and this was told unto the king. "he hath ever been envious of my glory," said the king, "let him therefore be buried underneath." and it was so. and after no long space the king also died, and slept with his fathers. but when there was again a revolution in france, the people cast his bones out of the royal sepulchre, and laid napoleon's there instead. and the dunghill complained grievously that it should be disturbed for so slight a cause. and napoleon withdrew his hand from the hand of loyalty, saying, "pish!" and his eyes opened, and he heard the booming of the sea, and the buzzing of the flies, and felt the heat of the sun, and saw that the sugar he had dropped into his sangaree had not yet reached the bottom of the tumbler. iii.--concerning daniel defoe daniel defoe, at the invitation of the judge, came forth from the garret wherein he abode, and rode in a cart unto the royal exchange, wherein he ascended the pillory, to the end that his ears might be nailed thereunto. and much people stood before him, some few pelting, some mocking, but the most part cheering or weeping, for they knew him for a friend to the poor, and especially those men who were called dissenters. and a certain person in black stood by him, invisible to the people, but well seen of daniel, who knew him for one whose life he had himself written. and the man in black reasoned with daniel, and said, "thou seest this multitude of people, but which of them shall deliver thee out of my hand? nay, but let thy white be black, and thy black white, and i myself will deliver thee, and make thee rich, and heal thy hurts, save the holes in thy ears, that i may know thee for mine own." but daniel gave no heed to him. so the devil departed, having great wrath, and entered into a certain smug-faced man standing by. and now the crowd before daniel was greatly diminished, and consisted mainly of his enemies, for his friends had gone away to drown their sorrow. and the smug-faced man into whom satan had entered came forth from among them, and said unto him, "o daniel, inasmuch as i am a dissenter i am greatly beholden to thee; but inasmuch as i am an honest tradesman i have somewhat against thee, for thou hast written concerning short weights and measures. and a man's shop is more to him than his country or his religion. wherefore i must needs be avenged of thee. yet shalt thou own that the tender mercies of the good man are piteous, and that even in his wrath he thinketh upon compassion." and he picked up a great stone from the ground, and wrapped it in a piece of paper, saying, "lest peradventure it hurt him overmuch." and the stone was very rough and sharp, and the paper was very thin. and he hurled it with all his might at the middle of daniel's forehead, and the blood spouted forth. and daniel cried aloud, and called upon the name of the devil. and in an instant the pillory and the people were gone, and he found himself in the prime minister's cabinet, healed of all his hurts, except the holes in his ears. and the minister was so like the devil that you could not tell the difference. and he said, "against what wilt thou write first, daniel?" "dissenters," said daniel. and he wrote a pamphlet, and such as read it took firebrands, and visited the dissenters in their habitations. and many dissenters were put into prison, and others fined and spoiled of their goods. and he wrote other pamphlets, and each was cleverer and wickeder than the last. and whatsoever daniel had of old declared to be white, lo! it was black; and what he had said was black, behold! it was white. and he throve and prospered exceedingly, and became a commissioner for public-houses and hackney-coaches and the imposing of oaths and the levying of custom, and all other such things as one does by deputy. and he mended the holes in his ears. but the time came when daniel must be judged, and he went before the lord. and all the court was full of dissenters, and the devil was there also. and the dissenters testified many and grievous things against daniel. "daniel," said the lord, "what answerest thou?" "nothing, lord," said daniel. "only i would that the dissenter who threw that stone at me should receive due and condign punishment, adequate to his misdeed." "that," said the devil, "is impossible." "thou sayest well, satan," said the lord, "and therefore shall daniel go free. for if anything can excuse the apostasy of the noble, it is the ingratitude of the base." so the devil went to his own place, looking very small. and daniel found himself in the same garret whence he had gone forth to the pillory; and before him were bread and cheese, and a pen and ink and paper. and he dipped the pen into the ink, and wrote _robinson crusoe_. iv.--cornelius the ferryman fourscore years ago there was a good ferryman named cornelius, who rowed people between new york and brooklyn. he had neither wife nor child, nor any one to think of except himself. it was, therefore, his custom, when he had earned enough in a day for his own wants, to put the rest aside, and bestow it upon sick or blind or maimed persons, lest they should come to the workhouse. and the sick and the blind and the maimed gathered around him, and waited by the water's edge, until cornelius's day's work should be over. this went on until one of the little sooty imps who are always in mischief came to hear of it, and told the principal devil in charge of the united states, whose name is politicianus. "dear me," said the devil, "this will never do. i will see to it immediately." and he went off to cornelius, and caught him in the act of giving two dimes to a blind beggar. "how foolish you are!" he said; "what waste of money is this! if you saved it up, you would by-and-by be able to build an hospital for all the beggars in new york." "it would be a long time before there was enough," objected cornelius. "not at all," said the devil, "if you let me invest your money for you." and he showed cornelius the plan of a most splendid hospital, and across the front of it was inscribed in letters of gold, _cornelius diabolodorus_. and cornelius was persuaded, and that evening he gave nothing to the poor. and the poor had come to think that cornelius's money was their own, and abused him as though he had robbed them. and cornelius drove them away: and his heart was hardened against them from that day forth. but the devil kept his promise to cornelius, and put him up to all the good things in wall street, and he soon had enough to build ten hospitals. but the more he had to build with, the less he wanted to build. and by-and-by the devil called upon him, and found him contemplating two pictures. one of them showed the finest hospital you can imagine, full of neat, clean rooms, in one of which sat cornelius himself, wearing a dress with a number and badge, and sipping arrowroot. the other showed fine houses, and opera-boxes, and fast-trotting horses, and dry champagne, and ladies who dance in ballets, and paintings by the great masters. cornelius thrust the pictures away, and the devil did not ask to see them, nor was it needful that he should, for he had painted them himself. "o dear mr. devil," said cornelius, "i am so glad that you have called, for i wanted to speak to you. it strikes me that there is a great defect in the plan which you have been so good as to draw for me." "what is that?" asked the devil. "there is no place for black men," said cornelius. "and you know white men will never let them come into the same hospital." and the devil, to do him justice, talked very reasonably to cornelius, and represented to him that there were very few black men in new york, and that these had very vigorous constitutions. but cornelius was inflamed with enthusiasm, and frantic with philanthropy, and he vowed that he would not give a cent to an hospital that had not a wing for black men as big as all the rest of the building. and the devil had to take his plan back, and come again in a year and a day. and when he did come back, cornelius asked him if he did not think it would be a most excellent thing if all the irishmen in new york could be shut up in an hospital or elsewhere; and he could not deny it. so he had to take his plan back again. and next year it was the turn of the chinese, and then of the red indians, and then of the dogs and cats. and then cornelius thought that he ought to provide room for all the people who had been ruined by his speculations, and the devil thought so too, but doubted whether cornelius would be able to afford it. and at last cornelius said: "methinks i have been very foolish in wishing to build an hospital at all while i am living. surely it would be better that i should enjoy my money myself during my life, and leave the residue for the lawyers to divide after my death." "you are quite right," said the devil; "that is exactly what i should do if i were you." so cornelius put the plans behind a shelf in his counting-house, and the mice ate them. and he went on prospering and growing rich, until the devil became envious of him, and insisted on changing places with him. so cornelius went below, and the devil came and dwelt in new york, where he still is. the poison maid o not for him blooms my dark nightshade, nor doth hemlock brew murder for cups within her cavernous root. i grievous is the lot of the child, more especially of the female child, who is doomed from the tenderest infancy to lack the blessing of a mother's care. was it from this absence of maternal vigilance that the education of the lovely mithridata was conducted from her babyhood in such an extraordinary manner? that enormous serpents infested her cradle, licking her face and twining around her limbs? that her tiny fingers patted scorpions? and tied knots in the tails of vipers? that her father, the magician locuste, ever sedulous and affectionate, fed her with spoonsful of the honeyed froth that gathers under the tongues of asps? that as she grew older and craved a more nutritious diet, she partook, at first in infinitesimal doses, but in ever increasing quantities, of arsenic, strychnine, opium, and prussic acid? that at last having attained the flower of youth, she drank habitually from vessels of gold, for her favourite beverages were so corrosive that no other substance could resist their solvent properties? gradually accustomed to this strange regimen, she had thriven on it marvellously, and was without a peer for beauty, sense, and goodness. her father had watched over her education with care, and had instructed her in all lawful knowledge, save only the knowledge of poisons. as no other human being had entered the house, mithridata was unaware that her bringing up had differed in so material a respect from that of other young people. "father," said she one day, bringing him a book she had been perusing, "what strange follies learned men will pen with gravity! or is it rather that none can set bounds to the licence of romancers? these dear serpents, my friends and playfellows, this henbane and antimony, the nourishment of my health and vigour--that any one should write of these as pernicious, deadly, and fatal to existence! is it error or malignity? or but the wanton freak of an idle imagination?" "my child," answered the magician, "it is fit that thou shouldst now learn what hath hitherto been concealed from thee, and with this object i left this treatise in thy way. it speaks truth. thou hast been nurtured from thy infancy on substances endowed with lethal properties, commonly called poisons. thy entire frame is impregnated thereby, and, although thou thyself art in the fullest enjoyment of health, thy kiss would be fatal to any one not, like thy father, fortified by a course of antidotes. now hear the reason. i bear a deadly grudge to the king of this land. he indeed hath not injured me; but his father slew my father, wherefore it is meet that i should slay that ancestor's son's son. i have therefore nurtured thee from thy infancy on the deadliest poisons, until thou art a walking vial of pestilence. the young prince shall unseal thee, to his destruction and thy unspeakable advantage. go to the great city; thou art beautiful as the day; he is young, handsome, and amorous; he will infallibly fall in love with thee. do thou submit to his caresses, he will perish miserably; thou (such is the charm) ransomed by the kiss of love, wilt become wholesome and innocuous as thy fellows, preserving only thy knowledge of poisons, always useful, in the present state of society invaluable. thou wilt therefore next repair to the city of constantinople, bearing recommendatory letters from me to the empress theophano, now happily reigning." "father," said mithridata, "either i shall love this young prince, or i shall not. if i do not love him, i am nowise minded to suffer him to caress me. if i do love him, i am as little minded to be the cause of his death." "not even in consideration of the benefit which will accrue to thee by this event?" "not even for that consideration." "o these daughters!" exclaimed the old man. "we bring them up tenderly, we exhaust all our science for the improvement of their minds and bodies, we set our choicest hopes upon them, and entrust them with the fulfilment of our most cherished aspirations; and when all is done, they will not so much as commit a murder to please us! miserable ingrate, receive the just requital of thy selfish disobedience!" "o father, do not turn me into a tadpole!" "i will not, but i will turn thee out of doors." and he did. ii though disinherited, mithridata was not destitute. she had secured a particle of the philosopher's stone--a slender outfit for a magician's daughter! yet ensuring her a certain portion of wealth. what should she do now? the great object of her life must henceforth be to avoid committing murder, especially murdering any handsome young man. it would have seemed most natural to retire into a convent, but, not to speak of her lack of vocation, she felt that her father would justly consider that she had disgraced her family, and she still looked forward to reconciliation with him. she might have taken a hermitage, but her instinct told her that a fair solitary can only keep young men off by strong measures; and she disliked the character of a hermitess with a bull-dog. she therefore went straight to the great city, took a house, and surrounded herself with attendants. in the choice of these she was particularly careful to select those only whose personal appearance was such as to discourage any approach to familiarity or endearment. never before or since was youthful beauty surrounded by such moustached duennas, squinting chambermaids, hunchbacked pages, and stumpy maids-of-all-work. this was a real sorrow to her, for she loved beauty; it was a still sadder trial that she could no longer feel it right to indulge herself in the least morsel of arsenic; she sighed for strychnia, and pined for prussic acid. the change of diet was of course at first most trying to her health, and in fact occasioned a serious illness, but youth and a sound constitution pulled her through. reader, hast thou known what it is to live with a heart inflamed by love for thy fellow-creatures which thou couldst manifest neither by word nor deed? to pine with fruitless longings for good? and to consume with vain yearnings for usefulness? to be misjudged and haply reviled by thy fellows for failing to do what it is not given thee to do? if so, thou wilt pity poor mithridata, whose nature was most ardent, expansive, and affectionate, but who, from the necessity under which she laboured of avoiding as much as possible all contact with human beings, saw herself condemned to a life of solitude, and knew that she was regarded as a monster of pride and exclusiveness. she dared bestow no kind look, no encouraging gesture on any one, lest this small beginning should lead to the manifestation of her fatal power. her own servants, whose minds were generally as deformed as their bodies, hated her, and bitterly resented what they deemed her haughty disdain of them. her munificence none could deny, but bounty without tenderness receives no more gratitude than it deserves. the young of her own sex secretly rejoiced at her unamiability, regarding it as a providential set-off against her beauty, while they detested and denounced her as a--well, they would say viper in the manger, who spoiled everybody else's lovers and would have none of her own. for with all mithridata's severity, there was no getting rid of the young men, the giddy moths that flew around her brilliant but baleful candle. not all the cold water thrown upon them, literally as well as figuratively, could keep them from her door. they filled her house with bouquets and billets doux; they stood before the windows, they sat on the steps, they ran beside her litter when she was carried abroad, they assembled at night to serenade her, fighting desperately among themselves. they sought to gain admission as tradesmen, as errand boys, even as scullions male and female. to such lengths did they proceed, that a particularly audacious youth actually attempted to carry her off one evening, and would have succeeded but for the interposition of another, who flew at him with a drawn sword, and after a fierce contest smote him bleeding to the ground. mithridata had fainted, of course. what was her horror on reviving to find herself in the arms of a young man of exquisite beauty and princely mien, sucking death from her lips with extraordinary relish! she shrieked, she struggled; if she made any unfeminine use of her hands, let the urgency of the case plead her apology. the youth reproached her bitterly for her ingratitude. she listened in silent misery, unable to defend herself. the shaft of love had penetrated her bosom also, and it cost her almost as much for her own sake to dismiss the young man as it did to see him move away, slowly and languidly staggering to his doom. for the next few days messages came continually, urging her to haste to a youth dying for her sake, whom her presence would revive effectually. she steadily refused, but how much her refusal cost her! she wept, she wrung her hands, she called for death and execrated her nurture. with that strange appetite for self-torment which almost seems to diminish the pangs of the wretched, she collected books on poisons, studied all the symptoms described, and fancied her hapless lover undergoing them all in turn. at length a message came which admitted of no evasion. the king commanded her presence. admonished by past experience, she provided herself with a veil and mask, and repaired to the palace. the old king seemed labouring under deep affliction; under happier circumstances he must have been joyous and debonair. he addressed her with austerity, yet with kindness. "maiden," he began, "thy unaccountable cruelty to my son----" "thy son!" she exclaimed, "the prince! o father, thou art avenged for my disobedience!" "surpasses what history hath hitherto recorded of the most obdurate monsters. thou art indebted to him for thy honour, to preserve which he has risked his life. thou bringest him to the verge of the grave by thy cruelty, and when a smile, a look from thee would restore him, thou wilt not bestow it." "alas! great king," she replied, "i know too well what your majesty's opinion of me must be. i must bear it as i may. believe me, the sight of me could effect nothing towards the restoration of thy son." "of that i shall judge," said the king, "when thou hast divested thyself of that veil and mask." mithridata reluctantly complied. "by heaven!" exclaimed the king, "such a sight might recall the departing soul from paradise. haste to my son, and instantly; it is not yet too late." "o king," urged mithridata, "how could this countenance do thy son any good? is he not suffering from the effects of seventy-two poisons?" "i am not aware of that," said the king. "are not his entrails burned up with fire? is not his flesh in a state of deliquescence? has not his skin already peeled off his body? is he not tormented by incessant gripes and vomitings?" "not to my knowledge," said the king. "the symptoms, as i understand, are not unlike those which i remember to have experienced myself, in a milder form, certainly. he lies in bed, eats and drinks nothing, and incessantly calls upon thee." "this is most incomprehensible," said mithridata. "there was no drug in my father's laboratory that could have produced such an effect." "the sum of the matter is," continued the king, "that either thou wilt repair forthwith to my son's chamber, and subsequently to church; or else unto the scaffold." "if it must be so, i choose the scaffold," said mithridata resolutely. "believe me, o king, my appearance in thy son's chamber would but destroy whatever feeble hope of recovery may remain. i love him beyond everything on earth, and not for worlds would i have his blood on my soul." "chamberlain," cried the monarch, "bring me a strait waistcoat." driven into a corner, mithridata flung herself at the king's feet, taking care, however, not to touch him, and confided to him all her wretched history. the venerable monarch burst into a peal of laughter. "Ã� bon chat bon rat!" he exclaimed, as soon as he had recovered himself. "so thou art the daughter of my old friend the magician locusto! i fathomed his craft, and, as he fed his child upon poisons, i fed mine upon antidotes. never did any child in the world take an equal quantity of physic: but there is now no poison on earth can harm him. ye are clearly made for each other; haste to his bedside, and, as the spell requires, rid thyself of thy venefic properties in his arms as expeditiously as possible. thy father shall be bidden to the wedding, and an honoured guest he shall be, for having taught us that the kiss of love is the remedy for every poison." notes the first edition of these tales was published in . it contained sixteen stories, to which twelve are added in the present impression. many originally appeared in periodicals, as will be found indicated in the annotations which the recondite character of some allusions has rendered it desirable to append, and which further provide an opportunity of tendering thanks to many friends for their assent to republication. p. . _the divine tongue of greece was forgotten,_--hereby we may detect the error of those among the learned who have identified caucasia with armenia. "hellenic letters," says mr. capes, writing of armenia in the fourth century, "were welcomed with enthusiasm, and young men of the slenderest means crowded to the schools of athens" ("university life in ancient athens," p. ). p. . _who have discovered the elixir of immortality._--the belief in this elixir was general in china about the seventh century, a.d., and many emperors used great exertions to discover it. this fact forms the groundwork of leopold schefer's novel, "der unsterblichkeitstrank," which has furnished the conception, though not the incidents, of "the potion of lao-tsze." p. . _so she took the sceptre, and reigned gloriously._--in a.d. , the dowager-empress woo how, upon her husband's death, caused her son to be set aside, and ruled prosperously until her decease in . in our day we have seen china virtually governed by female sovereigns. p. . _ananda the miracle worker._--this story was originally published in fraser's magazine for august, . a french translation appeared in the _revue britannique_ for november, . buddha's prohibition to work miracles rests, so far as the present writer's knowledge extends, on the authority of professor max müller ("lectures on the science of religion"). it should be needless to observe that ananda, "the st. john of the buddhist group," is not recorded to have contravened this or any other of his master's precepts. p. . _the city of philosophers._--this story has been translated into french by m. sarrazin. p. . _there to establish a philosophic commonwealth._--the petition was actually preferred, and would have been granted but for the disordered condition of the empire. gallienus, though not the man to save a sinking state, possessed the accomplishments which would have adorned an age of peace and culture. p. . _the sword doubled up; it had neither point nor edge._--gallienus was fond of such practical jocularity. "quum quidam gemmas vitreas pro veris vendiderat ejus uxori, atque illa, re prodita, vindicari vellet, surripi quasi ad leonem venditorem jussit. deinde e cavea caponem emittit, mirantibusque cunctis rem tam ridiculam, per curionem dici jussit, 'imposturam fecit et passus est': deinde negotiatorem dimisit" (trebellius in gallieno, cap. xii.). p. . _hypati, anthypati, &c._--_hypati_ and _anthypati_ denote consuls and proconsuls, dignities of course merely titular at the court of constantinople. _silentiarii_ were properly officers charged with maintaining order at court; but this duty, which was perhaps performed by deputy, seems to have been generally entrusted to persons of distinction. the _protospatharius_ was the chief of the imperial body-guard, of which the _spatharocandidati_ constituted the _élite_. p. . _the wisdom of the indians._--appeared in in _the universal review_. the idea was suggested by an incident in dr. bastian's travels in burma. p. . _the dumb oracle._--appeared in the _university magazine_ for june, . the legend on which it is founded, a mediaeval myth here transferred to classical times, is also the groundwork of browning's ballad, "the boy and the angel." p. . _duke virgil._--the subject of this story is derived from leopold schefer's novel, "die sibylle von mantua," though there is but little resemblance in the incidents. schefer cites friedrich von quandt as his authority for the mantuans having actually elected virgil as their duke in the thirteenth century: but the notion seems merely founded upon the interpretation of the insignia accompanying a mediæval statue of the poet. p. . _to put the devil into a hole_.--"then sayd virgilius, 'shulde ye well passe in to the hole that ye cam out of?' 'yea, i shall well,' sayd the devyl. 'i holde the best plegge that i have, that ye shall not do it.' 'well,' sayd the devyll, 'thereto i consent.' and then the devyll wrange himselfe into the lytyll hole ageyne, and he was therein. virgilius kyvered the hole ageyne with the borde close, and so was the devyll begyled, and myght nat there come out agen, but abideth shutte still therein" ("romance of virgilius"). _ibid. canst thou balance our city upon an egg?_--"than he thought in his mynde to founde in the middle of the sea a fayre towne, with great landes belongynge to it, and so he did by his cunnynge, and called it napells. and the foundacyon of it was of eggs" ("romance of virgilius"). p. . _the claw_.--originally published in _the english illustrated magazine_. p. . _peter of abano_.--pietro di abano, who took his name from his birthplace, a village near padua, was a physician contemporary with dante, whose skill in medicine and astrology caused him to be accused of magic. it is nevertheless untrue that he was burned by the inquisition or stoned by the populace; but after his death he was burned in effigy, his remains having been secretly removed by his friends. honours were afterwards paid to his memory; and there seems no doubt that he was a man of great attainments, including a knowledge of greek, and of unblemished character, if he had not sometimes sold his skill at too high a rate. for his authentic history, see the article in the _biographie universelle_ by ginguené; for the legendary, tieck's romantic tale, "pietro von abano" ( ), which has been translated into english. p. . _alexander the rat-catcher_.--this story, to whose ground-work history and rabelais have equally contributed, was first published in vol. xii. of _the yellow book_, january, . p. . _cardinal barbadico_.--this cardinal was actually entrusted by alexander viii. with the commission of suppressing the rats; an occasion upon which the "sardonic grin" imputed to the pope by a detractor may be conjectured to have been particularly apparent. barbadico was a remarkable instance of a man "kicked upstairs." as archbishop of corfu he had had a violent dispute with the venetian governor, and innocent xi., equally unwilling to disown the representative of papal authority or offend the republic, recalled him to rome and made him a cardinal to keep him there. p. . _the rewards of industry._--appeared originally in _atalanta for august_, . p. . _the talismans._--first published in _atalanta_ for september, . p. . _the elixir of life._--published july, , in the third number of a magazine entitled _our times_, which blasted the elixir's character by expiring immediately afterwards. p. . _the purple head._--appeared originally in _fraser's magazine_ for august, . p. . _the purple of the emperor and the matrons appeared ashy grey in comparison._ "cineris specie decolorari videbantur caeterae divini comparatione fulgoris" (vopiscus, in vita aureliani, cap. xxix.). p. . _all these sovereigns._--"diligentissime et aurelianus et probus et proxime diocletianus missis diligentissimis confectoribus requisiverunt tale genus purpurae, nec tamen invenire potuerunt" (vopiscus, _loc. cit._). p. . _pan's wand._--published originally in a christmas number of the _illustrated london news_. p. . _a page from the book of folly._--appeared in _temple bar_ for . p. . _the philosopher and the butterflies._--one of the contributions by various writers to "the new amphion," a little book prepared for sale at the fancy fair got up by the students of the university of edinburgh in . p. . _the three palaces._--published originally on a similar occasion to the last story, in "a volunteer haversack," an extensive repertory of miscellaneous contributions in prose and verse, printed and sold at edinburgh for a benevolent purpose in . p. . _new readings in biography._--originally published in _the scots observer_ in . p. . _the poison maid._--the author wrote this tale in entire forgetfulness of hawthorne's "rapaccini's daughter," which nevertheless he had certainly read. [transcriber's note: a misprint in the book was corrected in this edition, from "he martyrdom" to "his martyrdom".] tales of the enchanted islands of the atlantic by thomas wentworth higginson to general sir george wentworth higginson, k. c. b. _gyldernscroft, marlow, england_ this book is inscribed, in token of kindred and of old family friendships, cordially preserved into the present generation these legends unite the two sides of the atlantic and form a part of the common heritage of the english-speaking race preface hawthorne in his _wonder book_ has described the beautiful greek myths and traditions, but no one has yet made similar use of the wondrous tales that gathered for more than a thousand years about the islands of the atlantic deep. although they are a part of the mythical period of american history, these hazy legends were altogether disdained by the earlier historians; indeed, george bancroft made it a matter of actual pride that the beginning of the american annals was bare and literal. but in truth no national history has been less prosaic as to its earlier traditions, because every visitor had to cross the sea to reach it, and the sea has always been, by the mystery of its horizon, the fury of its storms, and the variableness of the atmosphere above it, the foreordained land of romance. in all ages and with all sea-going races there has always been something especially fascinating about an island amid the ocean. its very existence has for all explorers an air of magic. an island offers to us heights rising from depths; it exhibits that which is most fixed beside that which is most changeable, the fertile beside the barren, and safety after danger. the ocean forever tends to encroach on the island, the island upon the ocean. they exist side by side, friends yet enemies. the island signifies safety in calm, and yet danger in storm; in a tempest the sailor rejoices that he is not near it; even if previously bound for it, he puts about and steers for the open sea. often if he seeks it he cannot reach it. the present writer spent a winter on the island of fayal, and saw in a storm a full-rigged ship drift through the harbor disabled, having lost her anchors; and it was a week before she again made the port. there are groups of islands scattered over the tropical ocean, especially, to which might well be given herman melville's name, "las encantadas," the enchanted islands. these islands, usually volcanic, have no vegetation but cactuses or wiry bushes with strange names; no inhabitants but insects and reptiles--lizards, spiders, snakes,--with vast tortoises which seem of immemorial age, and are coated with seaweed and the slime of the ocean. if there are any birds, it is the strange and heavy penguin, the passing albatross, or the mother cary's chicken, which has been called the humming bird of ocean, and here finds a place for its young. by night these birds come for their repose; at earliest dawn they take wing and hover over the sea, leaving the isle deserted. the only busy or beautiful life which always surrounds it is that of a myriad species of fish, of all forms and shapes, and often more gorgeous than any butterflies in gold and scarlet and yellow. once set foot on such an island and you begin at once to understand the legends of enchantment which ages have collected around such spots. climb to its heights, you seem at the masthead of some lonely vessel, kept forever at sea. you feel as if no one but yourself had ever landed there; and yet, perhaps, even there, looking straight downward, you see below you in some crevice of the rock a mast or spar of some wrecked vessel, encrusted with all manner of shells and uncouth vegetable growth. no matter how distant the island or how peacefully it seems to lie upon the water, there may be perplexing currents that ever foam and swirl about it --currents which are, at all tides and in the calmest weather, as dangerous as any tempest, and which make compass untrustworthy and helm powerless. it is to be remembered also that an island not only appears and disappears upon the horizon in brighter or darker skies, but it varies its height and shape, doubles itself in mirage, or looks as if broken asunder, divided into two or three. indeed the buccaneer, cowley, writing of one such island which he had visited, says: "my fancy led me to call it cowley's enchanted isle, for we having had a sight of it upon several points of the compass, it appeared always in so many different forms; sometimes like a ruined fortification; upon another point like a great city." if much of this is true even now, it was far truer before the days of columbus, when men were constantly looking westward across the atlantic, and wondering what was beyond. in those days, when no one knew with certainty whether the ocean they observed was a sea or a vast lake, it was often called "the sea of darkness." a friend of the latin poet, ovid, describing the first approach to this sea, says that as you sail out upon it the day itself vanishes, and the world soon ends in perpetual darkness:-- "quo ferimur? ruit ipsa dies, orbemque relictum ultima perpetuis claudit natura tenebris." nevertheless, it was the vague belief of many nations that the abodes of the blest lay somewhere beyond it--in the "other world," a region half earthly, half heavenly, whence the spirits of the departed could not cross the water to return;--and so they were constantly imagining excursions made by favored mortals to enchanted islands. to add to the confusion, actual islands in the atlantic were sometimes discovered and actually lost again, as, for instance, the canaries, which were reached and called the fortunate isles a little before the christian era, and were then lost to sight for thirteen centuries ere being visited again. the glamour of enchantment was naturally first attached by europeans to islands within sight of their own shores--irish, welsh, breton, or spanish,--and then, as these islands became better known, men's imaginations carried the mystery further out over the unknown western sea. the line of legend gradually extended itself till it formed an imaginary chart for columbus; the aged astronomer, toscanelli, for instance, suggesting to him the advantage of making the supposed island of antillia a half-way station; just as it was proposed, long centuries after, to find a station for the ocean telegraph in the equally imaginary island of jacquet, which has only lately disappeared from the charts. with every step in knowledge the line of fancied stopping-places rearranged itself, the fictitious names flitting from place to place on the maps, and sometimes duplicating themselves. where the tradition itself has vanished we find that the names with which it associated itself are still assigned, as in case of brazil and the antilles, to wholly different localities. the order of the tales in the present work follows roughly the order of development, giving first the legends which kept near the european shore, and then those which, like st. brandan's or antillia, were assigned to the open sea or, like norumbega or the isle of demons, to the very coast of america. every tale in this book bears reference to some actual legend, followed more or less closely, and the authorities for each will be found carefully given in the appendix for such readers as may care to follow the subject farther. it must be remembered that some of these imaginary islands actually remained on the charts of the british admiralty until within a century. if even the exact science of geographers retained them thus long, surely romance should embalm them forever. cambridge, mass. contents i. the story of atlantis ii. taliessin of the radiant brow iii. the swan-children of lir iv. usheen in the island of youth v. bran the blessed vi. the castle of the active door vii. merlin the enchanter viii. sir lancelot of the lake ix. the half-man x. king arthur at avalon xi. maelduin's voyage xii. the voyage of st. brandan xiii. kirwan's search for hy-brasail xiv. the isle of satan's hand xv. antillia, the island of the seven cities xvi. harald the viking xvii. the search for norumbega xviii. the guardians of the st. lawrence xix. the island of demons xx. bimini and the fountain of youth _notes_ i the story of atlantis the greek sage socrates, when he was but a boy minding his father's goats, used to lie on the grass under the myrtle trees; and, while the goats grazed around him, he loved to read over and over the story which solon, the law-giver and poet, wrote down for the great-grandfather of socrates, and which solon had always meant to make into a poem, though he died without doing it. but this was briefly what he wrote in prose:-- "i, solon, was never in my life so surprised as when i went to egypt for instruction in my youth, and there, in the temple of sais, saw an aged priest who told me of the island of atlantis, which was sunk in the sea thousands of years ago. he said that in the division of the earth the gods agreed that the god poseidon, or neptune, should have, as his share, this great island which then lay in the ocean west of the mediterranean sea, and was larger than all asia. there was a mortal maiden there whom poseidon wished to marry, and to secure her he surrounded the valley where she dwelt with three rings of sea and two of land so that no one could enter; and he made underground springs, with water hot or cold, and supplied all things needful to the life of man. here he lived with her for many years, and they had ten sons; and these sons divided the island among them and had many children, who dwelt there for more than a thousand years. they had mines of gold and silver, and pastures for elephants, and many fragrant plants. they erected palaces and dug canals; and they built their temples of white, red, and black stone, and covered them with gold and silver. in these were statues of gold, especially one of the god poseidon driving six winged horses. he was so large as to touch the roof with his head, and had a hundred water-nymphs around him, riding on dolphins. the islanders had also baths and gardens and sea-walls, and they had twelve hundred ships and ten thousand chariots. all this was in the royal city alone, and the people were friendly and good and well-affectioned towards all. but as time went on they grew less so, and they did not obey the laws, so that they offended heaven. in a single day and night the island disappeared and sank beneath the sea; and this is why the sea in that region grew so impassable and impenetrable, because there is a quantity of shallow mud in the way, and this was caused by the sinking of a single vast island." "this is the tale," said solon, "which the old egyptian priest told to me." and solon's tale was read by socrates, the boy, as he lay in the grass; and he told it to his friends after he grew up, as is written in his dialogues recorded by his disciple, plato. and though this great island of atlantis has never been seen again, yet a great many smaller islands have been found in the atlantic ocean, and they have sometimes been lost to sight and found again. there is, also, in this ocean a vast tract of floating seaweed, called by sailors the sargasso sea,--covering a region as large as france,--and this has been thought by many to mark the place of a sunken island. there are also many islands, such as the azores, which have been supposed at different times to be fragments of atlantis; and besides all this, the remains of the vanished island have been looked for in all parts of the world. some writers have thought it was in sweden, others in spitzbergen, others in africa, in palestine, in america. since the depth of the atlantic has been more thoroughly sounded, a few writers have maintained that the inequalities of its floor show some traces of the submerged atlantis, but the general opinion of men of science is quite the other way. the visible atlantic islands are all, or almost all, they say, of volcanic origin; and though there are ridges in the bottom of the ocean, they do not connect the continents. at any rate, this was the original story of atlantis, and the legends which follow in these pages have doubtless all grown, more or less, out of this first tale which socrates told. ii taliessin of the radiant brow in times past there were enchanted islands in the atlantic ocean, off the coast of wales, and even now the fishermen sometimes think they see them. on one of these there lived a man named tegid voel and his wife called cardiwen. they had a son, the ugliest boy in the world, and cardiwen formed a plan to make him more attractive by teaching him all possible wisdom. she was a great magician and resolved to boil a large caldron full of knowledge for her son, so that he might know all things and be able to predict all that was to happen. then she thought people would value him in spite of his ugliness. but she knew that the caldron must burn a year and a day without ceasing, until three blessed drops of the water of knowledge were obtained from it; and those three drops would give all the wisdom she wanted. so she put a boy named gwion to stir the caldron and a blind man named morda to feed the fire; and made them promise never to let it cease boiling for a year and a day. she herself kept gathering magic herbs and putting them into it. one day when the year was nearly over, it chanced that three drops of the liquor flew out of the caldron and fell on the finger of gwion. they were fiery hot, and he put his finger to his mouth, and the instant he tasted them he knew that they were the enchanted drops for which so much trouble had been taken. by their magic he at once foresaw all that was to come, and especially that cardiwen the enchantress would never forgive him. then gwion fled. the caldron burst in two, and all the liquor flowed forth, poisoning some horses which drank it. these horses belonged to a king named gwyddno. cardiwen came in and saw all the toil of the whole year lost. seizing a stick of wood, she struck the blind man morda fiercely on the head, but he said, "i am innocent. it was not i who did it." "true," said cardiwen; "it was the boy gwion who robbed me;" and she rushed to pursue him. he saw her and fled, changing into a hare; but she became a greyhound and followed him. running to the water, he became a fish; but she became another and chased him below the waves. he turned himself into a bird, when she became a hawk and gave him no rest in the sky. just as she swooped on him, he espied a pile of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and dropping upon it, he became one of the wheat-grains. changing herself into a high-crested black hen, cardiwen scratched him up and swallowed him, when he changed at last into a boy again and was so beautiful that she could not kill him outright, but wrapped him in a leathern bag and cast him into the sea, committing him to the mercy of god. this was on the twenty-ninth of april. now gwyddno had a weir for catching fish on the sea-strand near his castle, and every day in may he was wont to take a hundred pounds' worth of fish. he had a son named elphin, who was always poor and unsuccessful, but that year the father had given the son leave to draw all the fish from the weir, to see if good luck would ever befall him and give him something with which to begin the world. when elphin went next to draw the weir, the man who had charge of it said in pity, "thou art always unlucky; there is nothing in the weir but a leathern bag, which is caught on one of the poles." "how do we know," said elphin, "that it may not contain the value of a hundred pounds?" taking up the bag and opening it, the man saw the forehead of the boy and said to elphin, "behold, what a radiant brow" (taliessin). "let him be called taliessin," said elphin. then he lifted the boy and placed him sorrowfully behind him; and made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in the world, and the boy of the radiant brow made a song to elphin as they went along. "never in gwyddno's weir was there such good luck as this night. fair elphin, dry thy cheeks! being too sad will not avail, although thou thinkest thou hast no gain. too much grief will bring thee no good; nor doubt the miracles of the almighty: although i am but little, i am highly gifted. from seas, and from mountains, and from the depths of rivers, god brings wealth to the fortunate man. elphin of lively qualities, thy resolution is unmanly: thou must not be oversorrowful: better to trust in god than to forebode ill. weak and small as i am, on the foaming beach of the ocean, in the day of trouble i shall be of more service to thee than three hundred salmon. elphin of notable qualities, be not displeased at thy misfortune: although reclined thus weak in my bag, there lies a virtue in my tongue. while i continue thy protector thou hast not much to fear." then elphin asked him, "art thou man or spirit?" and in answer the boy sang to him this tale of his flight from the woman:-- "i have fled with vigor, i have fled as a frog, i have fled in the semblance of a crow scarcely finding rest; i have fled vehemently, i have fled as a chain of lightning, i have fled as a roe into an entangled thicket; i have fled as a wolf-cub, i have fled as a wolf in the wilderness, i have fled as a fox used to many swift bounds and quirks; i have fled as a martin, which did not avail; i have fled as a squirrel that vainly hides, i have fled as a stag's antler, of ruddy course, i have fled as an iron in a glowing fire, i have fled as a spear-head, of woe to such as have a wish for it; i have fled as a fierce bull bitterly fighting, i have fled as a bristly boar seen in a ravine, i have fled as a white grain of pure wheat; into a dark leathern bag i was thrown, and on a boundless sea i was sent adrift; which was to me an omen of being tenderly nursed, and the lord god then set me at liberty." then elphin came with taliessin to the house of his father, and gwyddno asked him if he had a good haul at the fish-weir. "i have something better than fish." "what is that?" asked the father. "i have a bard," said elphin. "alas, what will he profit thee?" said gwyddno, to which taliessin replied, "he will profit him more than the weir ever profited thee." said gwyddno, "art thou able to speak, and thou so little?" then taliessin said, "i am better able to speak than thou to question me." from this time elphin always prospered, and he and his wife cared for taliessin tenderly and lovingly, and the boy dwelt with him until he was thirteen years old, when elphin went to make a christmas visit to his uncle maelgwyn, who was a great king and held open court. there were four and twenty bards there, and all proclaimed that no king had a wife so beautiful as the queen, or a bard so wise as the twenty-four, who all agreed upon this decision. elphin said, on the contrary, that it was he himself who had the most beautiful wife and the wisest bard, and for this he was thrown into prison. taliessin learning this, set forth from home to visit the palace and free his adoptive father, elphin. in those days it was the custom of kings to sit in the hall and dine in royal state with lords and bards about them who should keep proclaiming the greatness and glory of the king and his knights. taliessin placed himself in a quiet corner, waiting for the four and twenty bards to pass, and as each one passed by, taliessin made an ugly face, and gave a sound with his finger on his lips, thus, "blerwm, blerwm." each bard went by and bowed himself before the king, but instead of beginning to chant his praises, could only play "blerwm, blerwm" on the lips, as the boy had done. the king was amazed and thought they must be intoxicated, so he sent one of his lords to them, telling them to behave themselves and remember where they were. twice and thrice he told them, but they could only repeat the same foolishness, until at last the king ordered one of his squires to give a blow to the chief bard, and the squire struck him a blow with a broom, so that he fell back on his seat. then he arose and knelt before the king, and said, "oh, honorable king, be it known unto your grace that it is not from too much drinking that we are dumb, but through the influence of a spirit which sits in the corner yonder in the form of a child." then the king bade a squire to bring taliessin before him, and he asked the boy who he was. he answered:-- "primary chief bard i am to elphin, and my original country is the region of the summer stars; i am a wonder whose origin is not known; i have been fostered in the land of the deity, i have been teacher to all intelligences, i am able to instruct the whole universe. i was originally little gwion, and at length i am taliessin." then the king and his nobles wondered much, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young. the king then called his wisest bard to answer taliessin, but he could only play "blerwm" on his lips as before, and each of the king's four and twenty bards tried in the same way and could do nothing more. then the king bade taliessin sing again, and he began:-- "discover thou what is the strong creature from before the flood, without flesh, without bone, without vein, without blood, without head, without feet; it will neither be older nor younger than at the beginning; great god! how the sea whitens when first it comes! great are its gusts when it comes from the south; great are its evaporations when it strikes on coasts. it is in the field, it is in the wood, without hand and without foot, without signs of old age, it is also so wide, as the surface of the earth; and it was not born, nor was it seen. it will cause consternation wherever god willeth. on sea and on land it neither sees, nor is seen. its course is devious, and will not come when desired. on land and on sea it is indispensable. it is without equal, it is many-sided; it is not confined, it is incomparable; it comes from four quarters; it is noxious, it is beneficial; it is yonder, it is here; it will decompose, but it will not repair the injury; it will not suffer for its doings, seeing it is blameless. one being has prepared it, out of all creatures, by a tremendous blast, to wreak vengeance on maelgwyn gwynedd." and while he was thus singing his verse near the door, there came suddenly a mighty storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thought the castle would fall on their heads. they saw that taliessin had not merely been singing the song of the wind, but seemed to have power to command it. then the king hastily ordered that elphin should be brought from his dungeon and placed before taliessin, and the chains came loose from his feet, and he was set free. as they rode away from the court, the king and his courtiers rode with them, and taliessin bade elphin propose a race with the king's horses. four and twenty horses were chosen, and taliessin got four and twenty twigs of holly which he had burnt black, and he ordered the youth who was to ride elphin's horse to let all the others set off before him, and bade him as he overtook each horse to strike him with a holly twig and throw it down. then he had him watch where his own horse should stumble and throw down his cap at the place. the race being won, taliessin brought his master to the spot where the cap lay; and put workmen to dig a hole there. when they had dug deeply enough they found a caldron full of gold, and taliessin said, "elphin, this is my payment to thee for having taken me from the water and reared me until now." and on this spot stands a pool of water until this day. iii the swan-children of lir king lir of erin had four young children who were cared for tenderly at first by their stepmother, the new queen; but there came a time when she grew jealous of the love their father bore them, and resolved that she would endure it no longer. sometimes there was murder in her heart, but she could not bear the thought of that wickedness, and she resolved at last to choose another way to rid herself of them. one day she took them to drive in her chariot:--finola, who was eight years old, with her three younger brothers,--aodh, fiacre, and little conn, still a baby. they were beautiful children, the legend says, with skins white and soft as swans' feathers, and with large blue eyes and very sweet voices. reaching a lake, she told them that they might bathe in the clear water; but so soon as they were in it she struck them with a fairy wand,--for she was of the race of the druids, who had magical power,--and she turned them into four beautiful snow-white swans. but they still had human voices, and finola said to her, "this wicked deed of thine shall be punished, for the doom that awaits thee will surely be worse than ours." then finola asked, "how long shall we be in the shape of swans?" "for three hundred years," said the woman, "on smooth lake darvra; then three hundred years on the sea of moyle" (this being the sea between ireland and scotland); "and then three hundred years at inis glora, in the great western sea" (this was a rocky island in the atlantic). "until the tailkenn (st. patrick) shall come to ireland and bring the christian faith, and until you hear the christian bell, you shall not be freed. neither your power nor mine can now bring you back to human shape; but you shall keep your human reason and your gaelic speech, and you shall sing music so sweet that all who hear it shall gladly listen." she left them, and ere long their father, king lir, came to the shore and heard their singing. he asked how they came to have human voices. "we are thy four children," said finola, "changed into swans by our stepmother's jealousy." "then come and live with me," said her sorrowing father. "we are not permitted to leave the lake," she said, "or live with our people any more. but we are allowed to dwell together and to keep our reason and our speech, and to sing sweet music to you." then they sang, and the king and all his followers were at first amazed and then lulled to sleep. then king lir returned and met the cruel stepmother at her father's palace. when her father, king bove, was told what she had done, he was hot with anger. "this wicked deed," he said, "shall bring severer punishment on thee than on the innocent children, for their suffering shall end, but thine never shall." then king bove asked her what form of existence would be most terrible to her. she replied, "that of a demon of the air." "be it so," said her father, who had also druidical power. he struck her with his wand, and she became a bat, and flew away with a scream, and the legend says, "she is still a demon of the air and shall be a demon of the air until the end of time." after this, the people of all the races that were in erin used to come and encamp by the lake and listen to the swans. the happy were made happier by the song, and those who were in grief or illness or pain forgot their sorrows and were lulled to rest. there was peace in all that region, while war and tumult filled other lands. vast changes took place in three centuries--towers and castles rose and fell, villages were built and destroyed, generations were born and died;--and still the swan-children lived and sang, until at the end of three hundred years they flew away, as was decreed, to the stormy sea of moyle; and from that time it was made a law that no one should kill a swan in erin. beside the sea of moyle they found no longer the peaceful and wooded shores they had known, but only steep and rocky coasts and a wild, wild sea. there came a great storm one night, and the swans knew that they could not keep together, so they resolved that if separated they would meet at a rock called carricknarone. finola reached there first, and took her brothers under her wings, all wet, shivering, and exhausted. many such nights followed, and in one terrible winter storm, when they nestled together on carricknarone, the water froze into solid ice around them, and their feet and wings were so frozen to the rock that when they moved they left the skin of their feet, the quills of their wings, and the feathers of their breasts clinging there. when the ice melted, and they swam out into the sea, their bodies smarted with pain until the feathers grew once more. one day they saw a glittering troop of horsemen approaching along the shore and knew that they were their own kindred, though from far generations back, the dedannen or fairy host. they greeted each other with joy, for the fairy host had been sent to seek for the swans; and on returning to their chiefs they narrated what had passed, and the chiefs said, "we cannot help them, but we are glad they are living; and we know that at last the enchantment will be broken and that they will be freed from their sorrows." so passed their lives until finola sang, one day, "the second woe has passed--the second period of three hundred years," when they flew out on the broad ocean, as was decreed, and went to the island of inis glora. there they spent the next three hundred years, amid yet wilder storms and yet colder winds. no more the peaceful shepherds and living neighbors were around them; but often the sailor and fisherman, in his little coracle, saw the white gleam of their wings or heard the sweet notes of their song and knew that the children of lir were near. but the time came when the nine hundred years of banishment were ended, and they might fly back to their father's old home, finnahà. flying for days above the sea, they alighted at the palace once so well known, but everything was changed by time--even the walls of their father's palace were crumbled and rain-washed. so sad was the sight that they remained one day only, and flew back to inis glora, thinking that if they must be forever solitary, they would live where they had lived last, not where they had been reared. one may morning, as the children of lir floated in the air around the island of inis glora, they heard a faint bell sounding across the eastern sea. the mist lifted, and they saw afar off, beyond the waves, a vision of a stately white-robed priest, with attendants around him on the irish shore. they knew that it must be st. patrick, the tailkenn, or tonsured one, who was bringing, as had been so long promised, christianity to ireland. sailing through the air, above the blue sea, towards their native coast, they heard the bell once more, now near and distinct, and they knew that all evil spirits were fleeing away, and that their own hopes were to be fulfilled. as they approached the land, st. patrick stretched his hand and said, "children of lir, you may tread your native land again." and the sweet swan-sister, finola, said, "if we tread our native land, it can only be to die, after our life of nine centuries. baptize us while we are yet living." when they touched the shore, the weight of all those centuries fell upon them; they resumed their human bodies, but they appeared old and pale and wrinkled. then st. patrick baptized them, and they died; but, even as he did so, a change swiftly came over them; and they lay side by side, once more children, in their white night-clothes, as when their father lir, long centuries ago, had kissed them at evening and seen their blue eyes close in sleep and had touched with gentle hand their white foreheads and their golden hair. their time of sorrow was ended and their last swan-song was sung; but the cruel stepmother seems yet to survive in her bat-like shape, and a single glance at her weird and malicious little face will lead us to doubt whether she has yet fully atoned for her sin. iv usheen in the island of youth the old celtic hero and poet usheen or oisin, whose supposed songs are known in english as those of ossian, lived to a great old age, surviving all others of the race of the feni, to which he belonged; and he was asked in his last years what had given him such length of life. this is the tale he told:-- after the fatal battle of gavra, in which most of the feni were killed, usheen and his father, the king, and some of the survivors of the battle were hunting the deer with their dogs, when they met a maiden riding on a slender white horse with hoofs of gold, and with a golden crescent between his ears. the maiden's hair was of the color of citron and was gathered in a silver band; and she was clad in a white garment embroidered with strange devices. she asked them why they rode slowly and seemed sad, and not like other hunters; and they replied that it was because of the death of their friends and the ruin of their race. when they asked her in turn whence she came, and why, and whether she was married, she replied that she had never had a lover or a husband, but that she had crossed the sea for the love of the great hero and bard usheen, whom she had never seen. then usheen was overcome with love for her, but she said that to wed her he must follow her across the sea to the island of perpetual youth. there he would have a hundred horses and a hundred sheep and a hundred silken robes, a hundred swords, a hundred bows, and a hundred youths to follow him; while she would have a hundred maidens to wait on her. but how, he asked, was he to reach this island? he was to mount her horse and ride behind her. so he did this, and the slender white horse, not feeling his weight, dashed across the waves of the ocean, which did not yield beneath his tread. they galloped across the very sea, and the maiden, whose name was niam, sang to him as they rode, and this so enchantingly that he scarcely knew whether hours passed or days. sometimes deer ran by them over the water, followed by red-eared hounds in full chase; sometimes a maiden holding up an apple of gold; sometimes a beautiful youth; but they themselves rode on always westward. at last they drew near an island which was not, niam said, the island they were seeking; but it was one where a beautiful princess was kept under a spell until some defender should slay a cruel giant who held her under enchantment until she should either wed him or furnish a defender. the youth usheen, being an irishman and not easily frightened, naturally offered his services as defender, and they waited three days and nights to carry on the conflict. he had fought at home--so the legend says--with wild boars, with foreign invaders, and with enchanters, but he never had quite so severe a contest as with this giant; but after he had cut off his opponent's head and had been healed with precious balm by the beautiful princess, he buried the giant's body in a deep grave and placed above it a great stone engraved in the ogham alphabet--in which all the letters are given in straight lines. after this he and niam again mounted the white steed and galloped away over the waves. niam was again singing, when soft music began to be heard in the distance, as if in the centre of the setting sun. they drew nearer and nearer to a shore where the very trees trembled with the multitude of birds that sang upon them; and when they reached the shore, niam gave one note of song, and a band of youths and maidens came rushing towards them and embraced them with eagerness. then they too sang, and as they did it, one brought to usheen a harp of silver and bade him sing of earthly joys. he found himself chanting, as he thought, with peculiar spirit and melody, but as he told them of human joys they kept still and began to weep, till at last one of them seized the silver harp and flung it away into a pool of water, saying, "it is the saddest harp in all the world." then he forgot all the human joys which seemed to those happy people only as sorrows compared with their own; and he dwelt with them thenceforward in perpetual youth. for a hundred years he chased the deer and went fishing in strangely carved boats and joined in the athletic sports of the young men; for a hundred years the gentle niam was his wife. but one day, when usheen was by the beach, there floated to his feet what seemed a wooden staff, and he drew it from the waves. it was the battered fragment of a warrior's lance. the blood stains of war were still on it, and as he looked at it he recalled the old days of the feni, the wars and tumult of his youth; and how he had outlived his tribe and all had passed away. niam came softly to him and rested against his shoulder, but it did not soothe his pain, and he heard one of the young men watching him say to another, "the human sadness has come back into his eyes." the people around stood watching him, all sharing his sorrow, and knowing that his time of happiness was over and that he would go back among men. so indeed it was; niam and usheen mounted the white steed again and galloped away over the sea, but she had warned him when they mounted that he must never dismount for an instant, for that if he once touched the earth, she and the steed would vanish forever, that his youth too would disappear, and that he would be left alone on earth--an old man whose whole generation had vanished. they passed, as before, over the sea; the same visions hovered around them, youths and maidens and animals of the chase; they passed by many islands, and at last reached the shore of erin again. as they travelled over its plains and among its hills, oisin looked in vain for his old companions. a little people had taken their place,--small men and women, mounted on horses as small;--and these people gazed in wonder at the mighty usheen. "we have heard," they said, "of the hero finn, and the poets have written many tales of him and of his people, the feni. we have read in old books that he had a son usheen who went away with a fairy maiden; but he was never seen again, and there is no race of the feni left." yet refusing to believe this, and always looking round for the people whom he had known and loved of old, he thought within himself that perhaps the feni were not to be seen because they were hunting fierce wolves by night, as they used to do in his boyhood, and that they were therefore sleeping in the daytime; but again an old man said to him, "the feni are dead." then he remembered that it was a hundred years, and that his very race had perished, and he turned with contempt on the little men and their little horses. three hundred of them as he rode by were trying to lift a vast stone, but they staggered under its weight, and at last fell and lay beneath it; then leaning from his saddle usheen lifted the stone with one hand and flung it five yards. but with the strain the saddle girth broke, and usheen came to the ground; the white steed shook himself and neighed, then galloped away, bearing niam with him, and usheen lay with all his strength gone from him--a feeble old man. the island of youth could only be known by those who dwelt always within it, and those mortals who had once left it could dwell there no more. v bran the blessed the mighty king bran, a being of gigantic size, sat one day on the cliffs of his island in the atlantic ocean, near to hades and the gates of night, when he saw ships sailing towards him and sent men to ask what they were. they were a fleet sent by matholweh, the king of ireland, who had sent to ask for branwen, bran's sister, as his wife. without moving from his rock bran bid the monarch land, and sent branwen back with him as queen. but there came a time when branwen was ill-treated at the palace; they sent her into the kitchen and made her cook for the court, and they caused the butcher to come every day (after he had cut up the meat) and give her a blow on the ear. they also drew up all their boats on the shore for three years, that she might not send for her brother. but she reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough, taught it to speak, and told it how to find her brother; and then she wrote a letter describing her sorrows and bound it to the bird's wing, and it flew to the island and alighted on bran's shoulder, "ruffling its feathers" (says the welsh legend) "so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner." then bran resolved to cross the sea, but he had to wade through the water, as no ship had yet been built large enough to hold him; and he carried all his musicians (pipers) on his shoulders. as he approached the irish shore, men ran to the king, saying that they had seen a forest on the sea, where there never before had been a tree, and that they had also seen a mountain which moved. then the king asked branwen, the queen, what it could be. she answered, "these are the men of the island of the mighty, who have come hither to protect me." "what is the forest?" they asked. "the yards and masts of ships." "what mountain is that by the side of the ships?" "it is bran my brother, coming to the shoal water and rising." "what is the lofty ridge with the lake on each side?" "that is his nose," she said, "and the two lakes are his fierce eyes." then the people were terrified: there was yet a river for bran to pass, and they broke down the bridge which crossed it, but bran laid himself down and said, "who will be a chief, let him be a bridge." then his men laid hurdles on his back, and the whole army crossed over; and that saying of his became afterwards a proverb. then the irish resolved, in order to appease the mighty visitor, to build him a house, because he had never before had one that would hold him; and they decided to make the house large enough to contain the two armies, one on each side. they accordingly built this house, and there were a hundred pillars, and the builders treacherously hung a leathern bag on each side of each pillar and put an armed man inside of each, so that they could all rise by night and kill the sleepers. but bran's brother, who was a suspicious man, asked the builders what was in the first bag. "meal, good soul," they answered; and he, putting his hand in, felt a man's head and crushed it with his mighty fingers, and so with the next and the next and with the whole two hundred. after this it did not take long to bring on a quarrel between the two armies, and they fought all day. after this great fight between the men of ireland and the men of the isles of the mighty there were but seven of these last who escaped, besides their king bran, who was wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. then he knew that he should soon die, but he bade the seven men to cut off his head and told them that they must always carry it with them--that it would never decay and would always be able to speak and be pleasant company for them. "a long time will you be on the road," he said. "in harlech you will feast seven years, the birds of rhiannon singing to you all the while. and at the island of gwales you will dwell for fourscore years, and you may remain there, bearing the head with you uncorrupted, until you open the door that looks towards the mainland; and after you have once opened that door you can stay no longer, but must set forth to london to bury the head, leaving it there to look toward france." so they went on to harlech and there stopped to rest, and sat down to eat and drink. and there came three birds, which began singing a certain song, and all the songs they had ever heard were unpleasant compared with it; and the songs seemed to them to be at a great distance from them, over the sea, yet the notes were heard as distinctly as if they were close by; and it is said that at this repast they continued seven years. at the close of this time they went forth to an island in the sea called gwales. there they found a fair and regal spot overlooking the ocean and a spacious hall built for them. they went into it and found two of its doors open, but the third door, looking toward cornwall, was closed. "see yonder," said their leader manawydan; "that is the door we may not open." and that night they regaled themselves and were joyful. and of all they had seen of food laid before them, and of all they had heard said, they remembered nothing; neither of that, nor of any sorrow whatsoever. there they remained fourscore years, unconscious of having ever spent a time more joyous and mirthful. and they were not more weary than when first they came, neither did they, any of them, know the time they had been there. it was not more irksome for them to have the head with them, than if bran the blessed had been with them himself. and because of these fourscore years, it was called "the entertaining of the noble head." one day said heilwyn the son of gwyn, "evil betide me, if i do not open the door to know if that is true which is said concerning it." so he opened the door and looked towards cornwall. and when they had looked they were as conscious of all the evils they had ever sustained, and of all the friends and companions they had ever lost, and of all the misery that had befallen them, as if all had happened in that very spot; and especially of the fate of their lord. and because of their perturbation they could not rest, but journeyed forth with the head towards london. and they buried the head in the white mount. the island called gwales is supposed to be that now named gresholm, eight or ten miles off the coast of pembrokeshire; and to this day the welsh sailors on that coast talk of the green meadows of enchantment lying out at sea west of them, and of men who had either landed on them or seen them suddenly vanishing. some of the people of milford used to declare that they could sometimes see the green islands of the fairies quite distinctly; and they believed that the fairies went to and fro between their islands and the shore through a subterranean gallery under the sea. they used, indeed, to make purchases in the markets of milford or langhorne, and this they did sometimes without being seen and always without speaking, for they seemed to know the prices of the things they wished to buy and always laid down the exact sum of money needed. and indeed, how could the seven companions of the enchanted head have spent eighty years of incessant feasting on an island of the sea, without sometimes purchasing supplies from the mainland? vi the castle of the active door perfect is my chair in caer sidi; plague and age hurt not who's in it-- they know, manawydan and pryderi. three organs round a fire sing before it, and about its points are ocean's streams and the abundant well above it-- sweeter than white wine the drink in it. peredur, the knight, rode through the wild woods of the enchanted island until he arrived on clear ground outside the forest. then he beheld a castle on level ground in the middle of a meadow; and round the castle flowed a stream, and inside the castle there were large and spacious halls with great windows. drawing nearer the castle, he saw it to be turning more rapidly than any wind blows. on the ramparts he saw archers shooting so vigorously that no armor would protect against them; there were also men blowing horns so loud that the earth appeared to tremble; and at the gates were lions, in iron chains, roaring so violently that one might fancy that the castle and the woods were ready to be uprooted. neither the lions nor the warriors resisted peredur, but he found a woman sitting by the gate, who offered to carry him on her back to the hall. this was the queen rhiannon, who, having been accused of having caused the death of her child, was sentenced to remain seven years sitting by the gate, to tell her story to every one, and to offer to carry all strangers on her back into the castle. but so soon as peredur had entered it, the castle vanished away, and he found himself standing on the bare ground. the queen rhiannon was left beside him, and she remained on the island with her son pryderi and his wife. queen rhiannon married for her second husband a person named manawydan. one day they ascended a mound called arberth which was well known for its wonders, and as they sat there they heard a clap of thunder, followed by mist so thick that they could not see one another. when it grew light again, they looked around them and found that all dwellings and animals had vanished; there was no smoke or fire anywhere or work of human hands; all their household had disappeared, and there were left only pryderi and manawydan with their wives. wandering from place to place, they found no human beings; but they lived by hunting, fishing, and gathering wild honey. after visiting foreign lands, they returned to their island home. one day when they were out hunting, a wild boar of pure white color sprang from a bush, and as they saw him they retreated, and they saw also the turning castle. the boar, watching his opportunity, sprang into it, and the dogs followed, and pryderi said, "i will go into this castle and get tidings of the dogs." "go not," said manawydan; "whoever has cast a spell over this land and deprived us of our dwelling has placed this castle here." but pryderi replied, "of a truth i cannot give up my dogs." so he watched for the opportunity and went in. he saw neither boar nor dogs, neither man nor beast; but on the centre of the castle floor he saw a fountain with marble work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and in the air hung chains, of which he could see no end. he was much delighted with the beauty of the gold and the rich workmanship of the bowl and went up to lay hold of it. the moment he touched it, his fingers clung to the bowl, and his feet to the slab; and all his joyousness forsook him so that he could not utter a word. and thus he stood. manawydan waited for him until evening, but hearing nothing either of him or of the dogs, he returned home. when he entered, rhiannon, who was his wife and who was also pryderi's mother, looked at him. "where," she said, "are pryderi and the dogs?" "this is what has happened to me," he said; and he told her. "an evil companion hast thou been," she said, "and a good companion hast thou lost." with these words she went out and proceeded towards the castle of the active door. getting in, she saw pryderi taking hold of the bowl, and she went towards him. "what dost thou here?" she said, and she took hold of the bowl for herself; and then her hands became fast to it, and her feet to the slab, and she could not speak a word. then came thunder and a fall of mist; thereupon the castle of the active door vanished and never was seen again. rhiannon and pryderi also vanished. when kigva, the wife of pryderi, saw this, she sorrowed so that she cared not if she lived or died. no one was left on the island but manawydan and herself. they wandered away to other lands and sought to earn their living; then they came back to their island, bringing with them one bag of wheat which they planted. it throve and grew, and when the time of harvest came it was most promising, so that manawydan resolved to reap it on the morrow. at break of day he came back to begin; but found nothing left but straw. every stalk had been cut close to the ground and carried away. going to another field, he found it ripe, but on coming in the morning he found but the straw. "some one has contrived my ruin," he said; "i will watch the third field to see what happens. he who stole the first will come to steal this." he remained through the evening to watch the grain, and at midnight he heard loud thunder. he looked and saw coming a host of mice such as no man could number; each mouse took a stalk of the wheat and climbed it, so that it bent to the ground; then each mouse cut off the ear and ran away with it. they all did this, leaving the stalk bare, and there was not a single straw for which there was not a mouse. he struck among them, but could no more fix his sight on any of them, the legend says, than on flies and birds in the air, except one which seemed heavier than the rest, and moved slowly. this one he pursued and caught, put it in his glove and tied it with a string. taking it home, he showed it to kigva, and told her that he was going to hang the mouse next day. she advised against it, but he persisted, and on the next morning took the animal to the top of the mound of arberth, where he placed two wooden forks in the ground, and set up a small gallows. while doing this, he saw a clerk coming to him in old, threadbare clothes. it was now seven years since he had seen a human being there, except the friends he had lost and kigva who survived them. the clerk bade him good day and said he was going back to his country from england, where he had been singing. then the clerk asked manawydan what he was doing. "hanging a thief," said he; and when the clerk saw that it was a mouse, he offered a pound to release it, but manawydan refused. then a priest came riding up and offered him three pounds to release the mouse; but this offer was declined. then he made a noose round the mouse's neck, and while he did this, a bishop's whole retinue came riding towards him. the bishop seemed, like everybody else, to be very desirous of rescuing the mouse; he offered first seven pounds, and then twenty-four, and then added all his horses and equipages; but manawydan still refused. the bishop finally asked him to name any price he pleased. "the liberation of rhiannon and pryderi," he said. "thou shalt have it," said the bishop. "and the removal of the enchantment," said manawydan. "that also," said the bishop, "if you will only restore the mouse." "why?" said the other. "because," said the bishop, "she is my wife." "why did she come to me?" asked manawydan. "to steal," was the reply. "when it was known that you were inhabiting the island, my household came to me, begging me to transform them into mice. the first and second nights they came alone, but the third night my wife and the ladies of the court wished also to accompany them, and i transformed them also; and now you have promised to let her go." "not so," said the other, "except with a promise that there shall be no more such enchantment practised, and no vengeance on pryderi and rhiannon, or on me." this being promised, the bishop said, "now wilt thou release my wife?" "no, by my faith," said manawydan, "not till i see pryderi and rhiannon free before my eyes." "here they are coming," said the bishop; and when they had been embraced by manawydan, he let go the mouse; the bishop touched it with a wand, and it became the most beautiful young woman that ever was seen. "now look round upon the country," said the bishop, "and see the dwellings and the crops returned," and the enchantment was removed. "the land of illusion and the realm of glamour" is the name given by the old romancers to the south-west part of wales, and to all the islands off the coast. indeed, it was believed, ever since the days of the greek writer, plutarch, that some peculiar magic belonged to these islands; and every great storm that happened among them was supposed to be caused by the death of one of the wondrous enchanters who dwelt in that region. when it was over, the islanders said, "some one of the mighty has passed away." vii merlin the enchanter in one of the old books called welsh triads, in which all things are classed by threes, there is a description of three men called "the three generous heroes of the isle of britain." one of these--named nud or nodens, and later called merlin--was first brought from the sea, it is stated, with a herd of cattle consisting of , milch cows, which are supposed to mean those waves of the sea that the poets often describe as white horses. he grew up to be a king and warrior, a magician and prophet, and on the whole the most important figure in the celtic traditions. he came from the sea and at last returned to it, but meanwhile he did great works on land, one of which is said to have been the building of stonehenge. this is the way, as the old legends tell, in which the vast stones of stonehenge came to be placed on salisbury plain. it is a thing which has always been a puzzle to every one, inasmuch as their size and weight are enormous, and there is no stone of the same description to be found within hundreds of miles of salisbury plain, where they now stand. the legend is that pendragon, king of england, was led to fight a great battle by seeing a dragon in the air. the battle was won, but pendragon was killed and was buried on salisbury plain, where the fight had taken place. when his brother uther took his place, merlin the enchanter advised him to paint a dragon on a flag and bear it always before him to bring good fortune, and this he always did. then merlin said to him, "wilt thou do nothing more on the plain of salisbury, to honor thy brother?" the king said, "what shall be done?" then merlin said, "i will cause a thing to be done that will endure to the world's end." then he bade utherpendragon, as he called the new king, to send many ships and men to ireland, and he showed him stones such as seemed far too large and heavy to bring, but he placed them by his magic art upon the boats and bore them to england; and he devised means to transport them and to set them on end, "for they shall seem fairer so than if they were lying." and there they are to this day. this was the way in which merlin would sometimes obtain the favor and admiration of young ladies. there was a maiden of twelve named nimiane or vivian, the daughter of king dionas, and merlin changed himself into the appearance of "a fair young squire," that he might talk with her beside a fountain, described in the legends as "a well, whereof the springs were fair and the water clear and the gravel so fair that it seemed of fine silver." by degrees he made acquaintance with the child, who told him who she was, adding, "and what are you, fair, sweet friend?" "damsel," said merlin, "i am a travelling squire, seeking for my master, who has taught me wonderful things." "and what master is that?" she asked. "it is one," he said, "who has taught me so much that i could here erect for you a castle, and i could make many people outside to attack it and inside to defend it; nay, i could go upon this water and not wet my feet, and i could make a river where water had never been." "these are strange feats," said the maiden, "and i wish that i could thus disport myself." "i can do yet greater things," said merlin, "and no one can devise anything which i cannot do, and i can also make it to endure forever." "indeed," said the girl, "i would always love you if you could show me some such wonders." "for your love," he answered, "i will show you some of these wondrous plays, and i will ask no more of you." then merlin turned and described a circle with a wand and then came and sat by her again at the fountain. at noon she saw coming out of the forest many ladies and knights and squires, holding each other by the hand and singing in the greatest joy; then came men with timbrels and tabours and dancing, so that one could not tell one-fourth part of the sports that went on. then merlin caused an orchard to grow, with all manner of fruit and flowers; and the maiden cared for nothing but to listen to their singing, "truly love begins in joy, but ends in grief." the festival continued from mid-day to even-song; and king dionas and his courtiers came out to see it, and marvelled whence these strange people came. then when the carols were ended, the ladies and maidens sat down on the green grass and fresh flowers, and the squires set up a game of tilting called quintain upon the meadows and played till even-song; and then merlin came to the damsel and asked if he had done what he promised for her. "fair, sweet friend," said she, "you have done so much that i am all yours." "let me teach you," he answered, "and i will show you many wonders that no woman ever learned so many." merlin and this young damsel always remained friends, and he taught her many wonderful arts, one of which was (this we must regret) a spell by which she might put her parents to sleep whenever he visited her; while another lesson was (this being more unexceptionable) in the use of three words, by saying which she might at any time keep at a distance any men who tried to molest her. he stayed eight days near her, and in those days taught her many of the most "wonderful things that any mortal heart could think of, things past and things that were done and said, and a part of what was to come; and she put them in writing, and then merlin departed from her and came to benoyk, where the king, arthur, rested, so that glad were they when they saw merlin." the relations between merlin and arthur are unlike those ever held towards a king even by an enchanter in any legend. even in homer there is no one described, except the gods, as having such authority over a ruler. merlin came and went as he pleased and under any form he might please. he foretold the result of a battle, ordered up troops, brought aid from a distance. he rebuked the bravest knights for cowardice; as when ban, bors, and gawain had concealed themselves behind some bushes during a fight. "is this," he said to king arthur and sir bors, "the war and the help that you do to your friends who have put themselves in adventure of death in many a need, and ye come hither to hide for cowardice." then the legend says, "when the king understood the words of merlin, he bowed his head for shame," and the other knights acknowledged their fault. then merlin took the dragon banner which he had given them and said that he would bear it himself; "for the banner of a king," he said, "should not be hid in battle,--but borne in the foremost front." then merlin rode forth and cried with a loud voice, "now shall be shown who is a knight." and the knights, seeing merlin, exclaimed that he was "a full noble man"; and "without fail," says the legend, "he was full of marvellous powers and strength of body and great and long stature; but brown he was and lean and rough of hair." then he rode in among the enemy on a great black horse; and the golden dragon which he had made and had attached to the banner gave out from its throat such a flaming fire that the air was black with its smoke; and all king arthur's men began to fight again more stoutly, and arthur himself held the bridle reins in his left hand, and so wielded his sword with his right as to slay two hundred men. there was no end to merlin's disguises--sometimes as an old man, sometimes as a boy or a dwarf, then as a woman, then as an ignorant clown; --but the legends always give him some object to accomplish, some work to do, and there was always a certain dignity about him, even when helping king arthur, as he sometimes did, to do wrong things. his fame extended over all britain, and also through brittany, now a part of france, where the same poetic legends extended. this, for instance, is a very old breton song about him:-- merlin the diviner merlin! merlin! where art thou going so early in the day, with thy black dog? oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! i have come here to search the way, to find the red egg; the red egg of the marine serpent, by the seaside, in the hollow of the stone. i am going to seek in the valley the green water-cress, and the golden grass, and the top branch of the oak, in the wood by the side of the fountain. merlin! merlin! retrace your steps; leave the branch on the oak, and the green water-cress in the valley, as well as the golden grass; and leave the red egg of the marine serpent in the foam by the hollow of the stone. merlin! merlin! retrace thy steps; there is no diviner but god. merlin was supposed to know the past, the present, and the future, and to be able to assume the form of any animal, and even that of a _menhir_, or huge standing stone. before history began he ruled in britain, then a delightful island of flowery meadows. his subjects were "small people" (fairies), and their lives were a continued festival of singing, playing, and enjoyment. the sage ruled them as a father, his familiar servant being a tame wolf. he also possessed a kingdom, beneath the waves, where everything was beautiful, the inhabitants being charming little beings, with waves of long, fair hair falling on their shoulders in curls. fruits and milk composed the food of all, meat and fish being held in abhorrence. the only want felt was of the full light of the sun, which, coming to them through the water, was but faint, and cast no shadow. here was the famous workshop where merlin forged the enchanted sword so celebrated by the bards, and where the stones were found by which alone the sword could be sharpened. three british heroes were fated to wield this blade in turn; viz., lemenisk the leaper (_leim_, meaning leap), utherpendragon, and his son king arthur. by orders of this last hero, when mortally wounded, it was flung into the sea, where it will remain till he returns to restore the rule of his country to the faithful british race. the bard once amused and puzzled the court by entering the hall as a blind boy led by a greyhound, playing on his harp, and demanding as recompense to be allowed to carry the king's banner in an approaching battle. being refused on account of his blindness he vanished, and the king of brittany mentioned his suspicions that this was one of merlin's elfin tricks. arthur was disturbed, for he had promised to give the child anything except his honor, his kingdom, his wife, and his sword. however, while he continued to fret, there entered the hall a poor child about eight years old, with shaved head, features of livid tint, eyes of light gray, barefooted, barelegged, and a whip knotted over his shoulders in the manner affected by horseboys. speaking and looking like an idiot, he asked the king's permission to bear the royal ensign in the approaching battle with the giant rion. the courtiers laughed, but arthur, suspecting a new joke on merlin's part, granted the demand, and then merlin stood in his own proper person before the company. he also seems to have taught people many things in real science, especially the women, who were in those days more studious than the men, or at least had less leisure. for instance, the legend says of morgan le fay (or la fée), king arthur's sister, "she was a noble clergesse (meaning that she could read and write, like the clergy), and of astronomy could she enough, for merlin had her taught, and she learned much of egromancy (magic or necromancy); and the best work-woman she was with her hands that any man knew in any land, and she had the fairest head and the fairest hands under heaven, and shoulders well-shapen; and she had fair eloquence and full debonair she was, as long as she was in her right wit; and when she was wroth with any man, she was evil to meet." this lady was one of merlin's pupils, but the one whom he loved most and instructed the most was nimiane or vivian, already mentioned, who seems to have been to him rather a beloved younger sister than anything else, and he taught her so much that "at last he might hold himself a fool," the legend says, "and ever she inquired of his cunning and his mysteries, each thing by itself, and he let her know all, and she wrote all that he said, as she was well learned in clergie (reading and writing), and learned lightly all that merlin taught her; and when they parted, each of them commended the other to god full tenderly." the form of the enchanter merlin disappeared from view, at last--for the legends do not admit that his life ever ended--across the sea whence he came. the poet tennyson, to be sure, describes nimiane or vivian--the lady of the lake--as a wicked enchantress who persuaded merlin to betray his secrets to her, and then shut him up in an oak tree forever. but other legends seem to show that tennyson does great injustice to the lady of the lake, that she really loved merlin even in his age, and therefore persuaded him to show her how to make a tower without walls,--that they might dwell there together in peace, and address each other only as brother and sister. when he had told her, he fell asleep with his head in her lap, and she wove a spell nine times around his head, and the tower became the strongest in the world. some of the many legends place this tower in the forest of broceliande; while others transport it afar to a magic island, where merlin dwells with his nine bards, and where vivian alone can come or go through the magic walls. some legends describe it as an enclosure "neither of iron nor steel nor timber nor of stone, but of the air, without any other thing but enchantment, so strong that it may never be undone while the world endureth." here dwells merlin, it is said, with nine favorite bards who took with them the thirteen treasures of england. these treasures are said to have been:-- . a sword; if any man drew it except the owner, it burst into a flame from the cross to the point. all who asked it received it; but because of this peculiarity all shunned it. . a basket; if food for one man were put into it, when opened it would be found to contain food for one hundred. . a horn; what liquor soever was desired was found therein. . a chariot; whoever sat in it would be immediately wheresoever he wished. . a halter, which was in a staple below the feet of a bed; and whatever horse one wished for in it, he would find it there. . a knife, which would serve four-and twenty men at meat all at once. . a caldron; if meat were put into it to boil for a coward, it would never be boiled; but if meat were put in it for a brave man, it would be boiled forthwith. . a whetstone; if the sword of a brave man were sharpened thereon, and any one were wounded therewith, he would be sure to die; but if it were that of a coward that was sharpened on it, he would be none the worse. . a garment; if a man of gentle birth put it on, it suited him well; but if a churl, it would not fit him. , . a pan and a platter; whatever food was required was found therein. . a chessboard; when the men were placed upon it, they would play of themselves. the chessboard was of gold, and the men of silver. . the mantle of arthur; whosoever was beneath it could see everything, while no one could see him. it is towards this tower, some legends say, that merlin was last seen by some irish monks, sailing away westward, with a maiden, in a boat of crystal, beneath a sunset sky. viii sir lancelot of the lake sir lancelot, the famous knight, was the son of a king and queen against whom their subjects rebelled; the king was killed, the queen taken captive, when a fairy rose in a cloud of mist and carried away the infant lancelot from where he had been left beneath a tree. the queen, after weeping on the body of her husband, looked round and saw a lady standing by the water-side, holding the queen's child in her arms. "fair, sweet friend," said the queen, "give me back my child." the fairy made no reply, but dived into the water; and the queen was taken to an abbey, where she was known as the queen of great griefs. the lady of the lake took the child to her own home, which was an island in the middle of the sea and surrounded by impassable walls. from this the lady had her name of dame du lac, or the lady of the lake (or sea), and her foster son was called lancelot du lac, while the realm was called meidelant, or the land of maidens. lancelot dwelt thenceforward in the castle, on the island. when he was eight years old he received a tutor who was to instruct him in all knightly knowledge; he learned to use bow and spear and to ride on horseback, and some cousins of his were also brought thither by the lady of the lake to be his comrades. when he was eighteen he wished to go to king arthur's court that he might be a knight. on the eve of st. john, as king arthur returned from the chase, and by the high road approached camelot, he met a fair company. in the van went two youths, leading two white mules, one freighted with a silken pavilion, the other with robes proper for a newly made knight; the mules bore two chests, holding the hauberk and the iron boots. next came two squires, clad in white robes and mounted on white horses, carrying a silver shield and a shining helmet; after these, two others, with a sword in a white sheath and a white charger. behind followed squires and servants in white coats, three damsels dressed in white, the two sons of king bors; and, last of all, the fairy with the youth she loved. her robe was of white samite lined with ermine; her white palfrey had a silver bit, while her breastplate, stirrups, and saddle were of ivory, carved with figures of ladies and knights, and her white housings trailed on the ground. when she perceived the king, she responded to his salutation, and said, after she had lowered her wimple and displayed her face: "sir, may god bless the best of kings! i come to implore a boon, which it shall cost you nothing to grant." "damsel, even it should cost me dear, you should not be refused; what is it you would have me do?" "sir, dub this varlet a knight, and array him in the arms he bringeth, whenever he desireth." "your mercy, damsel! to bring me such a youth! assuredly, i will dub him whenever he will; but it shameth me to abandon my custom, for 'tis my wont to furnish with garments and arms such as come thither to receive chivalry." the lady replied that she desired the youth to carry the arms she had intended him to wear, and if she were refused, she would address herself elsewhere. sir ewain said that so fair a youth ought not to be denied, and the king yielded to her entreaty. she returned thanks, and bade the varlet retain the mules and the charger, with the two squires; and after that, she prepared to return as she had come, in spite of the urgency of the king, who had begged her to remain in his court. "at least," he cried, "tell us by what name are you known ?" "sir," she answered, "i am called the lady of the lake." for a long way, lancelot escorted the fairy, who said to him as she took leave: "king's son, you are derived from lineage the most noble on earth; see to it that your worth be as great as your beauty. to-morrow you will ask the king to bestow on you knighthood; when you are armed, you will not tarry in his house a single night. abide in one place no longer than you can help, and refrain from declaring your name until others proclaim it. be prepared to accomplish every adventure, and never let another man complete a task which you yourself have undertaken." with that, she gave him a ring that had the property of dissolving enchantment, and commended him to god. on the morrow, lancelot arrayed himself in his fairest robes, and sued for knighthood, as he had been commanded to do. sir ewain attended him to court, where they dismounted in front of the palace; the king and queen advanced to meet them; each took sir ewain by a hand, and seated him on a couch, while the varlet stood in their presence on the rushes that strewed the floor. all gazed with pleasure, and the queen prayed that god might make him noble, for he possessed as much beauty as was possible for man to have. after this he had many perilous adventures; he fought with giants and lions; he entered an enchanted castle and escaped; he went to a well in the forest, and, striking three times on a cymbal with a hammer hung there for the purpose, called forth a great giant, whom he slew, afterwards marrying his daughter. then he went to rescue the queen of the realm, gwenivere, from captivity. in order to reach the fortress where she was prisoner, he had to ride in a cart with a dwarf; to follow a wheel that rolled before him to show him the way, or a ball that took the place of the wheel; he had to walk on his hands and knees across a bridge made of a drawn sword; he suffered greatly. at last he rescued the queen, and later than this he married elaine, the daughter of king pelles, and her father gave to them the castle of blyaunt in the joyous island, enclosed in iron, and with a deep water all around it. there lancelot challenged all knights to come and contend with him, and he jousted with more than five hundred, overcoming them all, yet killing none, and at last he returned to camelot, the place of king arthur's court. one day he was called from the court to an abbey, where three nuns brought to him a beautiful boy of fifteen, asking that he might be made a knight. this was sir lancelot's own son, galahad, whom he had never seen, and did not yet know. that evening sir lancelot remained at the abbey with the boy, that he might keep his vigil there, and on the morrow's dawn he was made a knight. sir lancelot put on one of his spurs, and bors, lancelot's cousin, the other, and then sir lancelot said to the boy, "fair son, attend me to the court of the king;" but the abbess said, "sir, not now, but we will send him when it shall be time." on whitsunday, at the time called "underne," which was nine in the morning, king arthur and his knights sat at the round table, where on every seat there was written, in letters of gold, the name of a knight with "here ought to sit he," or "he ought to sit here;" and thus went the inscriptions until they came to one seat (or _siège_ in french) called the "siege perilous," where they found newly written letters of gold, saying that this seat could not be occupied until four hundred and fifty years after the death of christ; and that was this very day. then there came news of a marvellous stone which had been seen above the water, with a sword sticking in it bearing the letters, "never shall man take me hence, but only he by whose side i ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world." then two of the knights tried to draw the sword and failed to draw it, and sir lancelot, who was thought the best knight in all the world, refused to attempt it. then they went back to their seats around the table. then when all the seats but the "siege perilous" were full, the hall was suddenly darkened; and an old man clad in white, whom nobody knew, came in, with a young knight in red armor, wearing an empty scabbard at his side, who said, "peace be with you, fair knights." the old man said, "i bring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage," and the king said, "sir, ye are right heartily welcome." then the old man bade the young knight to remove his armor, and he wore a red garment, while the old man placed on his shoulders a mantle of fine ermine, and said, "sir, follow after." then the old man led him to the "siege perilous," next to sir lancelot, and lifted the cloth and read, "here sits sir galahad," and the youth sat down. upon this, all the knights of the round table marvelled greatly at sir galahad, that he dared to sit in that seat, and he so tender of age. then king arthur took him by the hand and led him down to the river to see the adventure of the stone. "sir," said the king to sir galahad, "here is a great marvel, where right good knights have tried and failed." "sir," said sir galahad, "that is no marvel, for the adventure was not theirs, but mine; i have brought no sword with me, for here by my side hangs the scabbard," and he laid his hand on the sword and lightly drew it from the stone. it was not until long after, and when they both had had many adventures, that sir lancelot discovered galahad to be his son. sir lancelot once came to the sea-strand and found a ship without sails or oars, and sailed away upon it. once, when he touched at an island, a young knight came on board to whom lancelot said, "sir, you are welcome," and when the young knight asked his name, told him, "my name is sir lancelot du lac." "sir," he said, "then you are welcome, for you are my father." "ah," said lancelot, "are you sir galahad?" then the young knight kneeled down and asked his blessing, and they embraced each other, and there was great joy between them, and they told each other all their deeds. so dwelt sir lancelot and sir galahad together within that ship for half a year, and often they arrived at islands far from men where there were but wild beasts, and they found many adventures strange and perilous which they brought to an end. when sir lancelot at last died, his body was taken to joyous-gard, his home, and there it lay in state in the choir, with a hundred torches blazing above it; and while it was there, came his brother sir ector de maris, who had long been seeking lancelot. when he heard such noise and saw such lights in the choir, he alighted and came in; and sir bors went towards him and told him that his brother lancelot was lying dead. then sir ector threw his shield and sword and helm from him, and when he looked on sir lancelot's face he fell down in a swoon, and when he rose he spoke thus: "ah, sir lancelot," said he, "thou wert dead of all christen knights! and now i dare say, that, sir lancelot, there thou liest, thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hands; and thou wert the curtiest knight that ever beare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrood horse, and thou wert the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever strooke with sword; and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among presse of knights; and thou wert the meekest man and the gentlest that ever eate in hall among ladies; and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the rest." ix the half-man king arthur in his youth was fond of all manly exercises, especially of wrestling, an art in which he found few equals. the old men who had been the champions of earlier days, and who still sat, in summer evenings, watching the youths who tried their skill before them, at last told him that he had no rival in cornwall, and that his only remaining competitor elsewhere was one who had tired out all others. "where is he?" said arthur. "he dwells," an old man said, "on an island whither you will have to go and find him. he is of all wrestlers the most formidable. you will think him at first so insignificant as to be hardly worth a contest; you will easily throw him at the first trial; but after a while you will find him growing stronger; he seeks out all your weak points as by magic; he never gives up; you may throw him again and again, but he will conquer you at last." "his name! his name!" said arthur. "his name," they answered, "is hanner dyn; his home is everywhere, but on his own island you will be likely to find him sooner or later. keep clear of him, or he will get the best of you in the end, and make you his slave as he makes slaves of others whom he has conquered." far and wide over the ocean the young arthur sought; he touched at island after island; he saw many weak men who did not dare to wrestle with him, and many strong ones whom he could always throw, until at last when he was far out under the western sky, he came one day to an island which he had never before seen and which seemed uninhabited. presently there came out from beneath an arbor of flowers a little miniature man, graceful and quick-moving as an elf. arthur, eager in his quest, said to him, "in what island dwells hanner dyn?" "in this island," was the answer. "where is he?" said arthur. "i am he," said the laughing boy, taking hold of his hand. "what did they mean by calling you a wrestler?" said arthur. "oh," said the child coaxingly, "i am a wrestler. try me." the king took him and tossed him in the air with his strong arms, till the boy shouted with delight. he then took arthur by the hand and led him about the island--showed him his house and where the gardens and fields were. he showed him the rows of men toiling in the meadows or felling trees. "they all work for me," he said carelessly. the king thought he had never seen a more stalwart set of laborers. then the boy led him to the house, asked him what his favorite fruits were, or his favorite beverages, and seemed to have all at hand. he was an unaccountable little creature; in size and years he seemed a child; but in his activity and agility he seemed almost a man. when the king told him so, he smiled, as winningly as ever, and said, "that is what they call me--hanner dyn, the half-man." laughing merrily, he helped arthur into his boat and bade him farewell, urging him to come again. the king sailed away, looking back with something like affection on his winsome little playmate. it was months before arthur came that way again. again the merry child met him, having grown a good deal since their earlier meeting. "how is my little wrestler?" said arthur. "try me," said the boy; and the king tossed him again in his arms, finding the delicate limbs firmer, and the slender body heavier than before, though easily manageable. the island was as green and more cultivated, there were more men working in the fields, and arthur noticed that their look was not cheerful, but rather as of those who had been discouraged and oppressed. it was, however, a charming sail to the island, and, as it became more familiar, the king often bade his steersman guide the pinnace that way. he was often startled with the rapid growth and increased strength of the laughing boy, hanner dyn, while at other times he seemed much as before and appeared to have made but little progress. the youth seemed never tired of wrestling; he always begged the king for a trial of skill, and the king rejoiced to see how readily the young wrestler caught at the tricks of the art; so that the time had long passed when even arthur's strength could toss him lightly in the air, as at first. hanner dyn was growing with incredible rapidity into a tall young fellow, and instead of the weakness that often comes with rapid growth, his muscles grew ever harder and harder. still merry and smiling, he began to wrestle in earnest, and one day, in a moment of carelessness, arthur received a back fall, perhaps on moist ground, and measured his length. rising with a quick motion, he laughed at the angry faces of his attendants and bade the boy farewell. the men at work in the fields glanced up, attracted by the sound of voices, and he saw them exchange looks with one another. yet he felt his kingly dignity a little impaired, and hastened ere long to revisit the island and teach the saucy boy another lesson. months had passed, and the youth had expanded into a man of princely promise, but with the same sunny look. his shoulders were now broad, his limbs of the firmest mould, his eye clear, keen, penetrating. "of all the wrestlers i have ever yet met," said the king, "this younker promises to be the most formidable. i can easily throw him now, but what will he be a few years hence?" the youth greeted him joyously, and they began their usual match. the sullen serfs in the fields stopped to watch them, and an aged druid priest, whom arthur had brought with him, to give the old man air and exercise in the boat, opened his weak eyes and closed them again. as they began to wrestle, the king felt, by the very grasp of the youth's arms, by the firm set of his foot upon the turf, that this was to be unlike any previous effort. the wrestlers stood after the old cornish fashion, breast to breast, each resting his chin on the other's shoulder. they grasped each other round the body, each setting his left hand above the other's right. each tried to force the other to touch the ground with both shoulders and one hip, or with both hips and one shoulder; or else to compel the other to relinquish his hold for an instant--either of these successes giving the victory. often as arthur had tried the art, he never had been so matched before. the competitors swayed this way and that, writhed, struggled, half lost their footing and regained it, yet neither yielded. all the boatmen gathered breathlessly around, king arthur's men refusing to believe their eyes, even when they knew their king was in danger. a stranger group was that of the sullen farm-laborers, who left their ploughs and spades, and, congregating on a rising ground, watched without any expression of sympathy the contest that was going on. an old wrestler from cornwall, whom arthur had brought with him, was the judge; and according to the habit of the time, the contest was for the best two bouts in three. by the utmost skill and strength, arthur compelled hanner dyn to lose his hold for one instant in the first trial, and the king was pronounced the victor. the second test was far more difficult; the boy, now grown to a man, and seeming to grow older and stronger before their very eyes, twice forced arthur to the ground either with hip or shoulder, but never with both, while the crowd closed in breathlessly around; and the half-blind old druid, who had himself been a wrestler in his youth, and who had been brought ashore to witness the contest, called warningly aloud, "save thyself, o king!" at this arthur roused his failing strength to one final effort, and, griping his rival round the waist with a mighty grasp, raised him bodily from the ground and threw him backward till he fell flat, like a log, on both shoulders and both hips; while arthur himself fell fainting a moment later. nor did he recover until he found himself in the boat, his head resting on the knees of the aged druid, who said to him, "never again, o king! must you encounter the danger you have barely escaped. had you failed, you would have become subject to your opponent, whose strength has been maturing for years to overpower you. had you yielded, you would, although a king, have become but as are those dark-browed men who till his fields and do his bidding. for know you not what the name hanner dyn means? it means--habit; and the force of habit, at first weak, then growing constantly stronger, ends in conquering even kings!" x king arthur at avalon in the ruined castle at winchester, england, built by william the conqueror, there is a hall called "the great hall," where richard coeur de lion was received by his nobles when rescued from captivity; where henry iii. was born; where all the edwards held court; where henry viii. entertained the emperor charles v.; where queen mary was married to philip ii.; where parliament met for many years. it is now a public hall for the county; and at one end of it the visitor sees against the wall a vast wooden tablet on which the names of king arthur's knights of the round table are inscribed in a circle. no one knows its date or origin, though it is known to be more than four hundred years old, but there appear upon it the names most familiar to those who have read the legends of king arthur, whether in tennyson's poems or elsewhere. there are lancelot and bedivere, gawaine and dagonet, modred and gareth, and the rest. many books have been written of their deeds; but a time came when almost all those knights were to fall, according to the legend, in one great battle. modred, the king's nephew, had been left in charge of the kingdom during arthur's absence, and had betrayed him and tried to dethrone him, meaning to crown himself king. many people joined with him, saying that under arthur they had had only war and fighting, but under modred they would have peace and bliss. yet nothing was farther from modred's purpose than bliss or peace, and it was agreed at last that a great battle should be fought for the kingdom. on the night of trinity sunday, king arthur had a dream. he thought he sat in a chair, upon a scaffold, and the chair was fastened to a wheel. he was dressed in the richest cloth of gold that could be made, but far beneath him he saw a pit, full of black water, in which were all manner of serpents and floating beasts. then the wheel began to turn, and he went down, down among the floating things, and they wreathed themselves about him till he cried, "help! help!" then his knights and squires and yeomen aroused him, but he slumbered again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking. then he thought he saw his nephew, sir gawaine, with a number of fair ladies, and when king arthur saw him, he said, "o fair nephew, what are these ladies who come with you?" "sir," said sir gawaine, "these are the ladies for whose protection i fought while i was a living man, and god has given them grace that they should bring me thither to you, to warn you of your death. if you fight with sir modred to-morrow, you must be slain, and most of your people on both sides." so sir gawaine and all the ladies vanished, and then the king called upon his knights and squires and yeomen, and summoned his lords and bishops. they agreed to propose to sir modred that they should have a month's delay, and meanwhile agreed to meet him with fourteen persons on each side, besides arthur and modred. each of these leaders warned his army, when they met, to watch the other, and not to draw their swords until they saw a drawn sword on the other side. in that case they were to come on fiercely. so the small party of chosen men on each side met and drank wine together, and agreed upon a month's delay before fighting; but while this was going on an adder came out of a bush and stung a knight on the foot, and he drew his sword to slay it and thought of nothing farther. at the sight of that sword the two armies were in motion, trumpets were blown instantly, and the men of each army thought that the other army had begun the fray. "alas, this unhappy day!" cried king arthur; and, as the old chronicle says, "nothing there was but rushing and riding, fencing and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other, and many a deadly stroke." the following is the oldest account of the battle, translated into quaint and literal english by madden from the book called "layamon's brut"; "innumerable folk it came toward the host, riding and on foot, as the rain down falleth! arthur marched to cornwall, with an immense army. modred heard that, and advanced against him with innumerable folk,--there were many fated! upon the tambre they came together; the place hight camelford, evermore lasted the same word. and at camelford was assembled sixty thousand, and more thousands thereto; modred was their chief. then thitherward 'gan ride arthur the mighty, with innumerable folk,--fated though it were! upon the tambre they encountered together; elevated their standards; advanced together; drew their long swords; smote on the helms; fire outsprang; spears splintered; shields 'gan shiver; shafts brake in pieces. there fought all together innumerable folk! tambre was in flood with blood to excess; there might no man in the fight know any warrior, nor who did worse, nor who better, so was the conflict mingled! for each slew downright, were he swain, were he knight. "there was modred slain, and deprived of life-day, and all his knights slain in the fight. there were slain all the brave, arthur's warriors, high and low, and all the britons of arthur's board, and all his dependents, of many kingdoms. and arthur wounded with broad slaughter-spear; fifteen dreadful wounds he had; in the least one might thrust two gloves! then was there no more remained in the fight, of two hundred thousand men that there lay hewed in pieces, except arthur the king alone, and two of his knights. arthur was wounded wondrously much. there came to him a lad, who was of his kindred; he was cador's son, the earl of cornwall; constantine the lad hight, he was dear to the king. arthur looked on him, where he lay on the ground, and said these words, with sorrowful heart: 'constantine, thou art welcome; thou wert cador's son. i give thee here my kingdom, and defend thou my britons ever in thy life, and maintain them all the laws that have stood in my days, and all the good laws that in uther's days stood. and i will fare to avalon, to the fairest of all maidens, to argante the queen, an elf most fair, and she shall make my wounds all sound, make me all whole with healing draughts. and afterwards i will come to my kingdom, and dwell with the britons with mickle joy.' even with the words there approached from the sea that was a short boat, floating with the waves; and two women therein, wondrously formed; and they took arthur anon, and bare him quickly, and laid him softly down, and forth they 'gan depart. then was it accomplished that merlin whilom said, that mickle care should be of arthur's departure. the britons believe yet that he is alive, and dwelleth in avalon with the fairest of all elves; and the britons ever yet expect when arthur shall return. was never the man born, of any lady chosen, that knoweth, of the sooth, to say more of arthur. but whilom was a sage hight merlin; he said with words,--his sayings were sooth,--that an arthur should yet come to help the english." another traditional account which tennyson has mainly followed in a poem, is this: the king bade sir bedivere take his good sword excalibur and go with it to the water-side and throw it into the water and return to tell what he saw. then sir bedivere took the sword, and it was so richly and preciously adorned that he would not throw it, and came back without it. when the king asked what had happened, sir bedivere said, "i saw nothing but waves and wind," and when arthur did not believe him, and sent him again, he made the same answer, and then, when sent a third time, he threw the sword into the water, as far as he could. then an arm and a hand rose above the water and caught it, and shook and brandished it three times and vanished. then sir bedivere came back to the king; he told what he had seen. "alas," said arthur, "help me from hence, for i fear i have tarried over long." then sir bedivere took king arthur upon his back, and went with him to the water's side. and when they had reached there, a barge with many fair ladies was lying there, with many ladies in it, and among them three queens, and they all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they saw king arthur. "now put me in the barge," said arthur, and the three queens received him with great tenderness, and king arthur laid his head in the lap of one, and she said, "ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long, until your wound was cold?" and then they rowed away, and king arthur said to sir bedivere, "i will go unto the valley of avalon to heal my grievous wound, and if i never return, pray for my soul." he was rowed away by the weeping queens, and one of them was arthur's sister morgan le fay; another was the queen of northgalis, and the third was the queen of waste lands; and it was the belief for years in many parts of england that arthur was not dead, but would come again to reign in england, when he had been nursed long enough by morgan le fay in the island of avalon. the tradition was that king arthur lived upon this island in an enchanted castle which had the power of a magnet, so that every one who came near it was drawn thither and could not get away. morgan le fay was its ruler (called more correctly morgan la fée, or the fairy), and her name morgan meant sea-born. by one tradition, the queens who bore away arthur were accompanied in the boat by the bard and enchanter, merlin, who had long been the king's adviser, and this is the description of the island said to have been given by merlin to another bard, taliessin:-- "'we came to that green and fertile island which each year is blessed with two autumns, two springs, two summers, two gatherings of fruit,--the land where pearls are found, where the flowers spring as you gather them-- that isle of orchards called the "isle of the blessed." no tillage there, no coulter to tear the bosom of the earth. without labor it affords wheat and the grape. there the lives extend beyond a century. there nine sisters, whose will is the only law, rule over those who go from us to them. the eldest excels in the art of healing, and exceeds her sisters in beauty. she is called morgana, and knows the virtues of all the herbs of the meadow. she can change her form, and soar in the air like a bird; she can be where she pleases in a moment, and in a moment descend on our coasts from the clouds. her sister thiten is renowned for her skill on the harp.' "'with the prince we arrived, and morgana received us with fitting honour. and in her own chamber she placed the king on a bed of gold, and with delicate touch, she uncovered the wound. long she considered it, and at length said to him that she could heal it if he stayed long with her, and willed her to attempt her cure. rejoiced at this news, we intrusted the king to her care, and soon after set sail.'" sir thomas malory, who wrote the book called the "historie of king arthur," or more commonly the "morte d'arthur," utters these high thoughts concerning the memory of the great king:-- "oh, yee mightie and pompeous lords, shining in the glory transitory of this unstable life, as in raigning over great realmes and mightie great countries, fortified with strong castles and toures, edified with many a rich citie; yee also, yee fierce and mightie knights, so valiant in adventurous deeds of armes; behold, behold, see how this mightie conquerour king arthur, whom in his humaine life all the world doubted, see also the noble queene guenever, which sometime sat in her chaire adorned with gold, pearles, and precious stones, now lye full low in obscure fosse or pit, covered with clods of earth and clay; behold also this mightie champion sir launcelot, pearelesse of all knighthood, see now how hee lyeth groveling upon the cold mould, now being so feeble and faint that sometime was so terrible. how and in what manner ought yee to bee so desirous of worldly honour so dangerous! therefore mee thinketh this present booke is right necessary often to be read, for in it shall yee finde the most gracious, knightly, and vertuous war of the most noble knights of the world, whereby they gat praysing continually. also mee seemeth, by the oft reading thereof, yee shall greatly desire to accustome your selfe in following of those gracious knightly deedes, that is to say, to dread god, and to love righteousnesse, faithfully and couragiously to serve your soveraigne prince; and the more that god hath given you the triumphall honour, the meeker yee ought to bee, ever feareing the unstablenesse of this deceitfull world." xi maelduin's voyage an irish knight named maelduin set forth early in the eighth century to seek round the seas for his father's murderers. by the advice of a wizard, he was to take with him seventeen companions, neither less nor more; but at the last moment his three foster brothers, whom he had not included, begged to go with him. he refused, and they cast themselves into the sea to swim after his vessel. maelduin had pity on them and took them in, but his disregard of the wizard's advice brought punishment; and it was only after long wanderings, after visiting multitudes of unknown and often enchanted islands, and after the death or loss of the three foster brothers, that maelduin was able to return to his native land. one island which they visited was divided into four parts by four fences, one of gold, one of silver, one of brass, one of crystal. in the first division there dwelt kings, in the second queens, in the third warriors, and in the fourth maidens. the voyagers landed in the maidens' realm; one of these came out in a boat and gave them food, such that every one found in it the taste he liked best; then followed an enchanted drink, which made them sleep for three days and three nights. when they awakened they were in their boat on the sea, and nothing was to be seen either of island or maidens. the next island had in it a fortress with a brazen door and a bridge of glass, on which every one who ascended it slipped and fell. a woman came from the fortress, pail in hand, drew water from the sea and returned, not answering them when they spoke. when they reached at last the brazen door and struck upon it, it made a sweet and soothing sound, and they went to sleep, for three days and nights, as before. on the fourth day a maiden came who was most beautiful; she wore garments of white silk, a white mantle with a brooch of silver with studs of gold, and a gold band round her hair. she greeted each man by his name, and said, "it is long that we have expected you." she took them into the castle and gave them every kind of food they had ever desired. maelduin was filled with love for her and asked her for her love; but she told him that love was sin and she had no knowledge of sin; so she left him. on the morrow they found their boat, stranded on a crag, while lady and fortress and island had all vanished. another island on which they landed was large and bare, with another fortress and a palace. there they met a lady who was kinder. she wore an embroidered purple mantle, gold embroidered gloves, and ornamented sandals, and was just riding up to the palace door. seventeen maidens waited there for her. she offered to keep the strangers as guests, and that each of them should have a wife, she herself wedding maelduin. she was, it seems, the widow of the king of the island, and these were her seventeen daughters. she ruled the island and went every day to judge the people and direct their lives. if the strangers would stay, she said that they should never more know sorrow, or hardships, or old age; she herself, in spite of her large family, being young and beautiful as ever. they stayed three months, and it seemed to all but maelduin that the three months were three years. when the queen was absent, one day, the men took the boat and compelled maelduin to leave the island with them; but the queen rode after them and flung a rope, which maelduin caught and which clung to his hand. she drew them back to the shore; this happened thrice, and the men accused maelduin of catching the rope on purpose; he bade another man catch it, and his companions cut off his hand, and they escaped at last. on one island the seafarers found three magic apples, and each apple gave sufficient food for forty nights; again, on another island, they found the same apples. in another place still, a great bird like a cloud arrived, with a tree larger than an oak in its claws. after a while two eagles came and cleaned the feathers of the larger bird. they also stripped off the red berries from the tree and threw them into the ocean until its foam grew red. the great bird then flew into the ocean and cleaned itself. this happened daily for three days, when the great bird flew away with stronger wings, its youth being thus renewed. they came to another island where many people stood by the shore talking and joking. they were all looking at maelduin and his comrades, and kept gaping and laughing, but would not exchange a word with them. then maelduin sent one of his foster brothers on the island; but he ranged himself with the others and did as they did. maelduin and his men rowed round and round the island, and whenever they passed the point where this comrade was, they addressed him, but he never answered, and only gaped and laughed. they waited for him a long time and left him. this island they found to be called the island of joy. on another island they found sheep grazing, of enormous size; on another, birds, whose eggs when eaten caused feathers to sprout all over the bodies of those who eat them. on another they found crimson flowers, whose mere perfume sufficed for food, and they encountered women whose only food was apples. through the window flew three birds: a blue one with a crimson head; a crimson one with a green head; a green one with a golden head. these sang heavenly music, and were sent to accompany the wanderers on their departing; the queen of the island gave them an emerald cup, such that water poured into it became wine. she asked if they knew how long they had been there, and when they said "a day," she told them that it was a year, during which they had had no food. as they sailed away, the birds sang to them until both birds and island disappeared in the mist. they saw another island standing on a single pedestal, as if on one foot, projecting from the water. rowing round it to seek a way into it they found no passage, but they saw in the base of the pedestal, under water, a closed door with a lock--this being the only way in which the island could be entered. around another island there was a fiery rampart, which constantly moved in a circle. in the side of that rampart was an open door, and as it came opposite them in its turning course, they beheld through it the island and all therein; and its occupants, even human beings, were many and beautiful, wearing rich garments, and feasting with gold vessels in their hands. the voyagers lingered long to gaze upon this marvel. on another island they found many human beings, black in color and raiment, and always bewailing. lots were cast, and another of maelduin's foster brothers was sent on shore. he at once joined the weeping crowd, and did as they did. two others were sent to bring him back, and both shared his fate, falling under some strange spell. then maelduin sent four others, and bade them look neither at the land nor at the sky; to wrap their mouths and noses with their garments, and not breathe the island air; and not to take off their eyes from their comrades. in this way the two who followed the foster brother on shore were rescued, but he remained behind. of another island they could see nothing but a fort, protected by a great white rampart, on which nothing living was to be seen but a small cat, leaping from one to another of four stone pillars. they found brooches and ornaments of gold and silver, they found white quilts and embroidered garments hanging up, flitches of bacon were suspended, a whole ox was roasting, and vessels stood filled with intoxicating drinks. maelduin asked the cat if all this was for them; but the cat merely looked at him and went on playing. the seafarers dined and drank, then went to sleep. as they were about to depart, maelduin's third foster brother proposed to carry off a tempting necklace, and in spite of his leader's warnings grasped it. instantly the cat leaped through him like a fiery arrow, burned him so that he became ashes, and went back to its pillar. thus all three of the foster brothers who had disregarded the wizard's warning, and forced themselves upon the party, were either killed or left behind upon the enchanted islands. around another island there was a demon horse-race going on; the riders were just riding in over the sea, and then the race began; the voyagers could only dimly perceive the forms of the horses, but could hear the cries of their riders, the strokes of the whips, and the words of the spectators, "see the gray horse!" "watch the chestnut horse!" and the voyagers were so alarmed that they rowed away. the next island was covered with trees laden with golden apples, but these were being rapidly eaten by small, scarlet animals which they found, on coming nearer, to be all made of fire and thus brightened in hue. then the animals vanished, and maelduin with his men landed, and though the ground was still hot from the fiery creatures, they brought away a boat load of the apples. another island was divided into two parts by a brass wall across the middle. there were two flocks of sheep, and those on one side of the wall were white, while the others were black. a large man was dividing and arranging the sheep, and threw them easily over the wall. when he threw a white sheep among the black ones it became black, and when he threw a black sheep among the white ones, it became white instantly. the voyagers thought of landing, but when maelduin saw this, he said, "let us throw something on shore to see if it will change color. if it does, we will avoid the island." so they took a black branch and threw it toward the white sheep. when it fell, it grew white; and the same with a white branch on the black side. "it is lucky for us," said maelduin, "that we did not land on this island." they came next to an island where there was but one man visible, very aged, and with long, white hair. above him were trees, covered with great numbers of birds. the old man told them that he like them had come in a curragh, or coracle, and had placed many green sods beneath his feet, to steady the boat. reaching this spot, the green sods had joined together and formed an island which at first gave him hardly room to stand; but every year one foot was added to its size, and one tree grew up. he had lived there for centuries, and those birds were the souls of his children and descendants, each of whom was sent there after death, and they were all fed from heaven each day. on the next island there was a great roaring as of bellows and a sound of smiths' hammers, as if striking all together on an anvil, every sound seeming to come from the strokes of a dozen men. "are they near?" asked one big voice. "silence!" said another; and they were evidently watching for the boat. when it rowed away, one of the smiths flung after them a vast mass of red-hot iron, which he had grasped with the tongs from the furnace. it fell just short, but made the whole sea to hiss and boil around them as they rowed away. another island had a wall of water round it, and maelduin and his men saw multitudes of people driving away herds of cattle and sheep, and shouting, "there they are, they have come again;" and a woman pelted them from below with great nuts, which the crew gathered for eating. then as they rowed away they heard one man say, "where are they now?" and another cried, "they are going away." still again they visited an island where a great stream of water shot up into the air and made an arch like a rainbow that spanned the land. they walked below it without getting wet, and hooked down from it many large salmon; besides that, many fell out above their heads, so that they had more than they could carry away with them. these are by no means all of the strange adventures of maelduin and his men. the last island to which they came was called raven's stream, and there one of the men, who had been very homesick, leaped out upon shore. as soon as he touched the land he became a heap of ashes, as if his body had lain in the earth a thousand years. this showed them for the first time during how vast a period they had been absent, and what a space they must have traversed. instead of thirty enchanted islands they had visited thrice fifty, many of them twice or thrice as large as ireland, whence the voyagers first came. in the wonderful experiences of their long lives they had apparently lost sight of the search which they had undertaken, for the murderers of maelduin's father, since of them we hear no more. the island enchantment seems to have banished all other thoughts. xii the voyage of st. brandan the young student brandan was awakened in the morning by the crowing of the cock in the great irish abbey where he dwelt; he rose, washed his face and hands and dressed himself, then passed into the chapel, where he prayed and sang until the dawn of the day. "with song comes courage" was the motto of the abbey. it was one of those institutions like great colonies,--church, library, farm, workshop, college, all in one,--of which ireland in the sixth century was full, and which existed also elsewhere. their extent is best seen by the modern traveller in the remains of the vast buildings at tintern in england, scattered over a wide extent of country, where you keep coming upon walls and fragments of buildings which once formed a part of a single great institution, in which all the life of the community was organized, as was the case in the spanish missions of california. at the abbey of bangor in wales, for instance, there were two thousand four hundred men,--all under the direction of a comparatively small body of monks, who were trained to an amount of organizing skill like that now needed for a great railway system. some of these men were occupied, in various mechanic arts, some in mining, but most of them in agriculture, which they carried on with their own hands, without the aid of animals, and in total silence. having thus labored in the fields until noonday, brandan then returned that he might work in the library, transcribing ancient manuscripts or illustrating books of prayer. having to observe silence, he wrote the name of the book to give to the librarian, and if it were a christian work, he stretched out his hand, making motions with his fingers as if turning over the leaves; but if it were by a pagan author, the monk who asked for it was required to scratch his ear as a dog does, to show his contempt, because, the regulations said, an unbeliever might well be compared to that animal[ ]. taking the book, he copied it in the scriptorium or library, or took it to his cell, where he wrote all winter without a fire. it is to such monks that we owe all our knowledge of the earliest history of england and ireland; though doubtless the hand that wrote the histories of gildas and bede grew as tired as that of brandan, or as that of the monk who wrote in the corner of a beautiful manuscript: "he who does not know how to write imagines it to be no labor; but though only three fingers hold the pen, the whole body grows weary." in the same way brandan may have learned music and have had an organ in his monastery, or have had a school of art, painting beautiful miniatures for the holy missals. this was his early life in the convent. [footnote : _adde ut aurem tangas digito sicut canis cum pede pruriens solet, quia nec immerito infideles tali animati comparantur_. --martÃ�ne, _de antiq. monach. ritibus_, p. , qu. by montalembert, monks of the west (tr.) vi. .] once a day they were called to food; this consisting for them of bread and vegetables with no seasoning but salt, although better fare was furnished for the sick and the aged, for travellers and the poor. these last numbered, at easter time, some three or four hundred, who constantly came and went, and upon whom the monks and young disciples waited. after the meal the monks spent three hours in the chapel, on their knees, still silent; then they confessed in turn to the abbot and then sought their hard-earned rest. they held all things in common; no one even received a gift for himself. war never reached them; it was the rarest thing for an armed party to molest their composure; their domains were regarded as a haven for the stormy world. because there were so many such places in ireland, it was known as the isle of saints. brandan was sent after a time to other abbeys, where he could pursue especial studies, for they had six branches of learning,--grammar, rhetoric, dialectics, geometry, astronomy, and music. thus he passed three years, and was then advised to go to an especial teacher in the mountains, who had particular modes of teaching certain branches. but this priest--he was an italian--was suffering from poverty, and could receive his guest but for a few weeks. one day as brandan sat studying, he saw, the legend says, a white mouse come from a crack in the wall, a visitor which climbed upon his table and left there a grain of wheat. then the mouse paused, looked at the student, then ran about the table, went away and reappeared with another grain, and another, up to five. brandan, who had at the very instant learned his lesson, rose from his seat, followed the mouse, and looking through a hole in the wall, saw a great pile of wheat, stored in a concealed apartment. on his showing this to the head of the convent, it was pronounced a miracle; the food was distributed to the poor, and "the people blessed his charity while the lord blessed his studies." in the course of years, brandan became himself the head of one of the great abbeys, that of clonfert, of the order of st. benedict, where he had under him nearly three thousand monks. in this abbey, having one day given hospitality to a monk named berinthus, who had just returned from an ocean voyage, brandan learned from him the existence, far off in the ocean, of an island called the delicious isle, to which a priest named mernoc had retired, with many companions of his order. berinthus found mernoc and the other monks living apart from one another for purposes of prayer, but when they came together, mernoc said, they were like bees from different beehives. they met for their food and for church; their food included only apples, nuts, and various herbs. one day mernoc said to berinthus, "i will conduct you to the promised isle of the saints." so they went on board a little ship and sailed westward through a thick fog until a great light shone and they found themselves near an island which was large and fruitful and bore many apples. there were no herbs without blossoms, he said, nor trees without fruits, and there were precious stones, and the island was traversed by a great river. then they met a man of shining aspect who told them that they had without knowing it passed a year already in the island; that they had needed neither food nor sleep. then they returned to the delicious island, and every one knew where they had been by the perfume of their garments. this was the story of berinthus, and from this time forward nothing could keep brandan from the purpose of beholding for himself these blessed islands. before carrying out his plans, however, he went, about the year , to visit an abbot named enda, who lived at arran, then called isle of the saints, a priest who was supposed to know more than any one concerning the farther lands of the western sea. he knew, for instance, of the enchanted island named hy-brasail, which could be seen from the coast of ireland only once in seven years, and which the priests had vainly tried to disenchant. some islands, it was believed, had been already disenchanted by throwing on them a few sparks of lighted turf; but as hy-brasail was too far for this, there were repeated efforts to disenchant it by shooting fiery arrows towards it, though this had not yet been successful. then enda could tell of wonderful ways to cross the sea without a boat, how his sister fanchea had done it by spreading her own cloak upon the waves, and how she and three other nuns were borne upon it. she found, however, that one hem of the cloak sank below the water, because one of her companions had brought with her, against orders, a brazen vessel from the convent; but on her throwing it away, the sinking hem rose to the level of the rest and bore them safely. st. enda himself had first crossed to arran on a large stone which he had ordered his followers to place on the water and which floated before the wind; and he told of another priest who had walked on the sea as on a meadow and plucked flowers as he went. hearing such tales, how could st. brandan fear to enter on his voyage? he caused a boat to be built of a fashion which one may still see in welsh and irish rivers, and known as a curragh or coracle; made of an osier frame covered with tanned and oiled skins. he took with him seventeen priests, among whom was st. malo, then a mere boy, but afterwards celebrated. they sailed to the southwest, and after being forty days at sea they reached a rocky island furrowed with streams, where they received the kindest hospitality, and took in fresh provisions. they sailed again the next day, and found themselves entangled in contrary currents and perplexing winds, so that they were long in reaching another island, green and fertile, watered by rivers which were full of fish, and covered with vast herds of sheep as large as heifers. here they renewed their stock of provisions, and chose a spotless lamb with which to celebrate easter sunday on another island, which they saw at a short distance. this island was wholly bare, without sandy shores or wooded slopes, and they all landed upon it to cook their lamb; but when they had arranged their cooking-apparatus, and when their fire began to blaze, the island seemed to move beneath their feet, and they ran in terror to their boat, from which brandan had not yet landed. their supposed island was a whale, and they rowed hastily away from it toward the island they had left, while the whale glided away, still showing, at a distance of two miles, the fire blazing on his back. the next island they visited was wooded and fertile, where they found a multitude of birds, which chanted with them the praises of the lord, so that they called this the paradise of birds. this was the description given of this island by an old writer named wynkyn de worde, in "the golden legend":-- "soon after, as god would, they saw a fair island, full of flowers, herbs, and trees, whereof they thanked god of his good grace; and anon they went on land, and when they had gone long in this, they found a full fayre well, and thereby stood a fair tree full of boughs, and on every bough sat a fayre bird, and they sat so thick on the tree that uneath [scarcely] any leaf of the tree might be seen. the number of them was so great, and they sang so merrilie, that it was an heavenlie noise to hear. whereupon st. brandan kneeled down on his knees and wept for joy, and made his praise devoutlie to our lord god, to know what these birds meant. and then anon one of the birds flew from the tree to st. brandan, and he with the flickering of his wings made a full merrie noise like a fiddle, that him seemed he never heard so joyful a melodie. and then st. brandan commanded the foule to tell him the cause why they sat so thick on the tree and sang so merrilie. and then the foule said, some time we were angels in heaven, but when our master, lucifer, fell down into hell for his high pride, and we fell with him for our offences, some higher and some lower, after the quality of the trespasse. and because our trespasse is so little, therefore our lord hath sent us here, out of all paine, in full great joy and mirthe, after his pleasing, here to serve him on this tree in the best manner we can. the sundaie is a daie of rest from all worldly occupation, and therefore that day all we be made as white as any snow, for to praise our lorde in the best wise we may. and then all the birds began to sing evensong so merrilie that it was an heavenlie noise to hear; and after supper st. brandan and his fellows went to bed and slept well. and in the morn they arose by times, and then those foules began mattyns, prime, and hours, and all such service as christian men used to sing; and st. brandan, with his fellows, abode there seven weeks, until trinity sunday was passed." having then embarked, they wandered for months on the ocean, before reaching another island. that on which they finally landed was inhabited by monks who had as their patrons st. patrick and st. ailbée, and they spent christmas there. a year passed in these voyages, and the tradition is that for six other years they made just the same circuit, always spending holy week at the island where they found the sheep, alighting for easter on the back of the same patient whale, visiting the isle of birds at pentecost, and reaching the island of st. patrick and st. ailbée in time for christmas. but in the seventh year they met with wholly new perils. they were attacked, the legend says, first by a whale, then by a griffin, and then by a race of cyclops, or one-eyed giants. then they came to an island where the whale which had attacked them was thrown on shore, so that they could cut him to pieces; then another island which had great fruits, and was called the island of the strong man; and lastly one where the grapes filled the air with perfume. after this they saw an island, all cinders and flames, where the cyclops had their forges, and they sailed away in the light of an immense fire. the next day they saw, looking northward, a great and high mountain sending out flames at the top. turning hastily from this dreadful sight, they saw a little round island, at the top of which a hermit dwelt, who gave them his benediction. then they sailed southward once more, and stopped at their usual places of resort for holy week, easter, and whitsuntide. it was on this trip that they had, so the legend says, that strange interview with judas iscariot, out of which matthew arnold has made a ballad. sailing in the wintry northern seas at christmas time, st. brandan saw an iceberg floating by, on which a human form rested motionless; and when it moved at last, he saw by its resemblance to the painted pictures he had seen that it must be judas iscariot, who had died five centuries before. then as the boat floated near the iceberg, judas spoke and told him his tale. after he had betrayed jesus christ, after he had died, and had been consigned to the flames of hell,--which were believed in very literally in those days,--an angel came to him on christmas night and said that he might go thence and cool himself for an hour. "why this mercy?" asked judas iscariot. then the angel said to him, "remember the leper in joppa," and poor judas recalled how once when the hot wind, called the sirocco, swept through the streets of joppa, and he saw a naked leper by the wayside, sitting in agony from the heat and the drifting sand, judas had thrown his cloak over him for a shelter and received his thanks. in reward for this, the angel now told him, he was to have, once a year, an hour's respite from his pain; he was allowed in that hour to fling himself on an iceberg and cool his burning heat as he drifted through the northern seas. then st. brandan bent his head in prayer; and when he looked up, the hour was passed, and judas had been hurried back into his torments. it seems to have been only after seven years of this wandering that they at last penetrated within the obscure fogs which surrounded the isle of the saints, and came upon a shore which lay all bathed in sunny light. it was a vast island, sprinkled with precious stones, and covered with ripe fruits; they traversed it for forty days without arriving at the end, though they reached a great river which flowed through the midst of it from east to west. there an angel appeared to them, and told them that they could go no farther, but could return to their own abode, carrying from the island some of those fruits and precious stones which were reserved to be distributed among the saints when all the world should be brought to the true faith. in order to hasten that time, it appears that st. malo, the youngest of the sea-faring monks, had wished, in his zeal, to baptize some one, and had therefore dug up a heathen giant who had been, for some reason, buried on the blessed isle. not only had he dug the giant's body up, but st. malo had brought him to life again sufficiently for the purpose of baptism and instruction in the true faith; after which he gave him the name of mildus, and let him die once more and be reburied. then, facing homeward and sailing beyond the fog, they touched once more at the island of delights, received the benediction of the abbot of the monastery, and sailed for ireland to tell their brethren of the wonders they had seen. he used to tell them especially to his nurse ita, under whose care he had been placed until his fifth year. his monastery at clonfert grew, as has been said, to include three thousand monks; and he spent his remaining years in peace and sanctity. the supposed islands which he visited are still believed by many to have formed a part of the american continent, and he is still thought by some irish scholars to have been the first to discover this hemisphere, nearly a thousand years before columbus, although this view has not yet made much impression on historians. the paradise of birds, in particular, has been placed by these scholars in mexico, and an irish poet has written a long poem describing the delights to be found there:-- "oft, in the sunny mornings, have i seen bright yellow birds, of a rich lemon hue, meeting in crowds upon the branches green, and sweetly singing all the morning through; and others, with their heads grayish and dark, pressing their cinnamon cheeks to the old trees, and striking on the hard, rough, shrivelled bark, like conscience on a bosom ill at ease. "and diamond-birds chirping their single notes, now 'mid the trumpet-flower's deep blossoms seen, now floating brightly on with fiery throats-- small winged emeralds of golden green; and other larger birds with orange cheeks, a many-color-painted, chattering crowd, prattling forever with their curved beaks, and through the silent woods screaming aloud." xiii kirwan's search for hy-brasail the boy kirwan lay on one of the steep cliffs of the island of innismane-- one of the islands of arran, formerly called isles of the saints. he was looking across the atlantic for a glimpse of hy-brasail. this was what they called it; it was a mysterious island which kirwan's grandfather had seen, or thought he had seen--and kirwan's father also;--indeed, there was not one of the old people on the island who did not think he had seen it, and the older they were, the oftener it had been seen by them, and the larger it looked. but kirwan had never seen it, and whenever he came to the top of the highest cliff, where he often went bird-nesting, he climbed the great mass of granite called the gregory, and peered out into the west, especially at sunset, in hopes that he would at least catch a glimpse, some happy evening, of the cliffs and meadows of hy-brasail. but as yet he had never espied them. all this was more than two hundred years ago. he naturally went up to the gregory at this hour, because it was then that he met the other boys, and caught puffins by being lowered over the cliff. the agent of the island employed the boys, and paid them a sixpence for every dozen birds, that he might sell the feathers. the boys had a rope three hundred feet long, which could reach the bottom of the cliff. one of them tied this rope around his waist, and then held it fast with both hands, the rope being held above by four or five strong boys, who lowered the cragman, or "clifter," as he was called, over the precipice. kirwan was thus lowered to the rocks near the sea, where the puffins bred; and, loosening the rope, he prepared to spend the night in catching them. he had a pole with a snare on the end, which he easily clapped on the heads of the heavy and stupid birds; then tied each on a string as he caught it, and so kept it to be hauled up in the morning. he took in this way twenty or thirty score of the birds, besides quantities of their large eggs, which were found in deep clefts in the rock; and these he carried with him when his friends came in the morning to haul him up. it was a good school of courage, for sometimes boys missed their footing and were dashed to pieces. at other times he fished in his father's boat, or drove calves for sale on the mainland, or cured salt after high tide in the caverns, or collected kelp for the farmers. but he was always looking forward to a time when he might get a glimpse of the island of hy-brasail, and make his way to it. one day when all the fleet of fishing-boats was out for the herring fishery, and kirwan among them, the fog came in closer and closer, and he was shut apart from all others. his companion in the boat--or dory-mate, as it would be called in new england--had gone to cut bait on board another boat, but kirwan could manage the boat well enough alone. long he toiled with his oars toward the west, where he fancied the rest of the fleet to be; and sometimes he spread his little sprit-sail, steering with an oar--a thing which was, in a heavy sea, almost as hard as rowing. at last the fog lifted, and he found himself alone upon the ocean. he had lost his bearings and could not tell the points of the compass. presently out of a heavy bank of fog which rose against the horizon he saw what seemed land. it gave him new strength, and he worked hard to reach it; but it was long since he had eaten, his head was dizzy, and he lay down on the thwart of the boat, rather heedless of what might come. growing weaker and weaker, he did not clearly know what he was doing. suddenly he started up, for a voice hailed him from above his head. he saw above him the high stern of a small vessel, and with the aid of a sailor he was helped on board. he found himself on the deck of a sloop of about seventy tons, john nisbet, master, with a crew of seven men. they had sailed from killebegs (county donegal), in ireland, for the coast of france, laden with butter, tallow, and hides, and were now returning from france with french wines, and were befogged as kirwan had been. the boy was at once taken on board and rated as a seaman; and the later adventures of the trip are here given as he reported them on his return with the ship some months later. the mist continued thicker and thicker for a time, and when it suddenly furled itself away, they found themselves on an unknown coast, with the wind driving them shoreward. there were men on board who were familiar with the whole coast of ireland and scotland, but they remembered nothing like this. finding less than three fathoms of water, they came to anchor and sent four men ashore to find where they were; these being james ross the carpenter and two sailors, with the boy kirwan. they took swords and pistols. landing at the edge of a little wood, they walked for a mile within a pleasant valley where cattle, horses, and sheep were feeding, and then came in sight of a castle, small but strong, where they went to the door and knocked. no one answered, and they walked on, up a green hill, where there were multitudes of black rabbits; but when they had reached the top and looked around they could see no inhabitants, nor any house; on which they returned to the sloop and told their tale. after this the whole ship's company went ashore, except one left in charge, and they wandered about for hours, yet saw nothing more. as night came on they made a fire at the base of a fallen oak, near the shore, and lay around it, talking, and smoking the lately discovered weed, tobacco; when suddenly they heard loud noises from the direction of the castle and then all over the island, which frightened them so that they went on board the sloop and stayed all night. the next morning they saw a dignified, elderly gentleman with ten unarmed followers coming down towards the shore. hailing the sloop, the older gentleman, speaking gaelic, asked who and whence they were, and being told, invited them ashore as his guests. they went on shore, well armed; and he embraced them one by one, telling them that they were the happiest sight that island had seen for hundreds of years; that it was called hy-brasail or o-brazile; that his ancestors had been princes of it, but for many years it had been taken possession of by enchanters, who kept it almost always invisible, so that no ship came there; and that for the same reason he and his friends were rendered unable to answer the sailors, even when they knocked at the door; and that the enchantment must remain until a fire was kindled on the island by good christians. this had been done the night before, and the terrible noises which they had heard were from the powers of darkness, which had now left the island forever. and indeed when the sailors were led to the castle, they saw that the chief tower had just been demolished by the powers of darkness, as they retreated; but there were sitting within the halls men and women of dignified appearance, who thanked them for the good service they had done. then they were taken over the island, which proved to be some sixty miles long and thirty wide, abounding with horses, cattle, sheep, deer, rabbits, and birds, but without any swine; it had also rich mines of silver and gold, but few people, although there were ruins of old towns and cities. the sailors, after being richly rewarded, were sent on board their vessel and furnished with sailing directions to their port. on reaching home, they showed to the minister of their town the pieces of gold and silver that were given them at the island, these being of an ancient stamp, somewhat rusty yet of pure gold; and there was at once an eager desire on the part of certain of the townsmen to go with them. within a week an expedition was fitted out, containing several godly ministers, who wished to visit and discover the inhabitants of the island; but through some mishap of the seas this expedition was never heard of again. partly for this reason and partly because none of captain nesbit's crew wished to return to the island, there came to be in time a feeling of distrust about all this rediscovery of hy-brasail or o-brazile. there were not wanting those who held that the ancient gold pieces might have been gained by piracy, such as was beginning to be known upon the spanish main; and as for the boy kirwan, some of his playmates did not hesitate to express the opinion that he had always been, as they phrased it, the greatest liar that ever spoke. what is certain is that the island of brazil or hy-brasail had appeared on maps ever since as being near the coast of ireland; that many voyages were made from bristol to find it, a hundred years later; that it was mentioned about as often seen from the shore; and that it appeared as brazil rock on the london admiralty charts until after . if many people tried to find it and failed, why should not kirwan have tried and succeeded? and as to his stretching his story a little by throwing in a few enchanters and magic castles, there was not a voyager of his period who was not tempted to do the same. xiv the isle of satan's hand the prosperous farmer conall ua corra in the province of connaught had everything to make him happy except that he and his wife had no children to cheer their old age and inherit their estate. conall had prayed for children, and one day said in his impatience that he would rather have them sent by satan than not have them at all. a year or two later his wife had three sons at a birth, and when these sons came to maturity, they were so ridiculed by other young men, as being the sons of satan, that they said, "if such is really our parentage, we will do satan's work." so they collected around them a few villains and began plundering and destroying the churches in the neighborhood and thus injuring half the church buildings in the country. at last they resolved to visit also the church of clothar, to destroy it, and to kill if necessary their mother's father, who was the leading layman of the parish. when they came to the church, they found the old man on the green in front of it, distributing meat and drink to his tenants and the people of the parish. seeing this, they postponed their plans until after dark and in the meantime went home with their grandfather, to spend the night at his house. they went to rest, and the eldest, lochan, had a terrible dream in which he saw first the joys of heaven and then the terrors of future punishment, and then he awoke in dismay. waking his brothers, he told them his dream, and that he now saw that they had been serving evil masters and making war upon a good one. such was his bitterness of remorse that he converted them to his views, and they agreed to go to their grandfather in the morning, renounce their sinful ways and ask his pardon. this they did, and he advised them to go to a celebrated saint, finnen of clonard, and take him as their spiritual guide. laying aside their armor and weapons, they went to clonard, where all the people, dreading them and knowing their wickedness, fled for their lives, except the saint himself, who came forward to meet them. with him the three brothers undertook the most austere religious exercises, and after a year they came to st. finnen and asked his punishment for their former crimes. "you cannot," he said, "restore to life those you have slain, but you can at least restore the buildings you have devastated and ruined." so they went and repaired many churches, after which they resolved to go on a pilgrimage upon the great atlantic ocean. they built for themselves therefore a curragh or coracle, covered with hides three deep. it was capable of carrying nine persons, and they selected five out of the many who wished to join the party. there were a bishop, a priest, a deacon, a musician, and the man who had modelled the boat; and with these they pushed out to sea. it had happened some years before that in a quarrel about a deer hunt, the men of ross had killed the king. it had been decided that, by way of punishment, sixty couples of the people of ross should be sent out to sea, two and two, in small boats, to meet what fate they might upon the deeps. they were watched that they might not land again, and for many years nothing more had been heard from them. the most pious task which these repenting pilgrims could undertake, it was thought, would be to seek these banished people. they resolved to spread their sail and let providence direct their course. they went, therefore, northwest on the atlantic, where they visited several wonderful islands, on one of which there was a great bird which related to them, the legend says, the whole history of the world, and gave them a great leaf from a tree--the leaf being as large as an ox-hide, and being preserved for many years in one of the churches after their return. at the next island they heard sweet human voices, and found that the sixty banished couples had established their homes there. the pilgrims then went onward in their hidebound boat until they reached the coast of spain, and there they landed and dwelt for a time. the bishop built a church, and the priest officiated in it, and the organist took charge of the music. all prospered; yet the boat-builder and the three brothers were never quite contented, for they had roamed the seas too long; and they longed for a new enterprise for their idle valor. they thought they had found this when one day they found on the sea-coast a group of women tearing their hair, and when they asked the explanation, "señor," said an old woman, "our sons and our husbands have again fallen into the hand of satan." at this the three brothers were startled, for they remembered well how they used, in youth, to rank themselves as satan's children. asking farther, they learned that a shattered boat they saw on the beach was one of a pair of boats which had been carried too far out to sea, and had come near an islet which the sailors called _isla de la man satanaxio_, or the island of satan's hand. it appeared that in that region there was an islet so called, always surrounded by chilly mists and water of a deadly cold; that no one had ever reached it, as it constantly changed place; but that a demon hand sometimes uprose from it, and plucked away men and even whole boats, which, when once grasped, usually by night, were never seen again, but perished helplessly, victims of satan's hand. when the voyagers laughed at this legend, the priest of the village showed them, on the early chart of bianco, the name of "de la man satanagio," and on that of beccaria the name "satanagio" alone, both these being the titles of islands. not alarmed at the name of satan, as being that of one whom they had supposed, in their days of darkness, to be their patron, they pushed boldly out to sea and steered westward, a boat-load of spanish fishermen following in their wake. passing island after island of green and fertile look, they found themselves at last in what seemed a less favored zone--as windy as the "roaring forties," and growing chillier every hour. fogs gathered quickly, so that they could scarcely see the companion boat, and the spanish fishermen called out to them, "garda da la man do satanaxio!" ("look out for satan's hand!") as they cried, the fog became denser yet, and when it once parted for a moment, something that lifted itself high above them, like a gigantic hand, showed itself an instant, and then descended with a crushing grasp upon the boat of the spanish fishermen, breaking it to pieces, and dragging some of the men below the water, while others, escaping, swam through the ice-cold waves, and were with difficulty taken on board the coracle; this being all the harder because the whole surface of the water was boiling and seething furiously. rowing away as they could from this perilous neighborhood, they lay on their oars when the night came on, not knowing which way to go. gradually the fog cleared away, the sun rose clearly at last, and wherever they looked on the deep they saw no traces of any island, still less of the demon hand. but for the presence among them of the fishermen they had picked up, there was nothing to show that any casualty had happened. that day they steered still farther to the west with some repining from the crew, and at night the same fog gathered, the same deadly chill came on. finding themselves in shoal water, and apparently near some island, they decided to anchor the boat; and as the man in the bow bent over to clear away the anchor, something came down upon him with the same awful force, and knocked him overboard. his body could not be recovered, and as the wind came up, they drove before it until noon of the next day, seeing nothing of any land and the ocean deepening again. by noon the fog cleared, and they saw nothing, but cried with one voice that the boat should be put about, and they should return to spain. for two days they rowed in peace over a summer sea; then came the fog again and they laid on their oars that night. all around them dim islands seemed to float, scarcely discernible in the fog; sometimes from the top of each a point would show itself, as of a mighty hand, and they could hear an occasional plash and roar, as if this hand came downwards. once they heard a cry, as if of sailors from another vessel. then they strained their eyes to gaze into the fog, and a whole island seemed to be turning itself upside down, its peak coming down, while its base went uppermost, and the whole water boiled for leagues around, as if both earth and sea were upheaved. the sun rose upon this chaos of waters. no demon hand was anywhere visible, nor any island, but a few icebergs were in sight, and the frightened sailors rowed away and made sail for home. it was rare to see icebergs so far south, and this naturally added to the general dismay. amid the superstition of the sailors, the tales grew and grew, and all the terrors became mingled. but tradition says that there were some veteran spanish sailors along that coast, men who had sailed on longer voyages, and that these persons actually laughed at the whole story of satan's hand, saying that any one who had happened to see an iceberg topple over would know all about it. it was more generally believed, however, that all this was mere envy and jealousy; the daring fishermen remained heroes for the rest of their days; and it was only within a century or two that the island of satanaxio disappeared from the charts. xv antillia, the island of the seven cities the young spanish page, luis de vega, had been for some months at the court of don rodrigo, king of spain, when he heard the old knights lamenting, as they came out of the palace at toledo, over the king's last and most daring whim. "he means," said one of them in a whisper, "to penetrate the secret cave of the gothic kings, that cave on which each successive sovereign has put a padlock," "till there are now twenty-seven of them," interrupted a still older knight. "and he means," said the first, frowning at the interruption, "to take thence the treasures of his ancestors." "indeed, he must do it," said another, "else the son of his ancestors will have no treasure left of his own." "but there is a spell upon it," said the other. "for ages spain has been threatened with invasion, and it is the old tradition that the only talisman which can prevent it is in this cave." "well," said the scoffer, "it is only by entering the cave that he can possess the talisman." "but if he penetrates to it, his power is lost." "a pretty talisman," said the other. "it is only of use to anybody so long as no one sees it. were i the king i would hold it in my hands. and i have counselled him to heed no graybeards, but to seize the treasure for himself. i have offered to accompany him." "may it please your lordship," said the eager luis, "may i go with you?" "yes," said don alonzo de carregas, turning to the ardent boy. "where the king goes i go, and where i go thou shalt be my companion. see, señors," he said, turning to the others, "how the ready faith of boyhood puts your fears to shame. to his majesty the terrors of this goblin cave are but a jest which frightens the old and only rouses the young to courage. the king may find the recesses of the cavern filled with gold and jewels; he who goes with him may share them. this boy is my first recruit: who follows?" by this time a whole group of courtiers, young and old, had assembled about don alonzo, and every man below thirty years was ready to pledge himself to the enterprise. but the older courtiers and the archbishop oppas were beseeching the king to refrain. "respect, o king," they said, "the custom held sacred by twenty-seven of thy predecessors. give us but an estimate of the sum that may, in thy kingly mind, represent the wealth that is within the cavern walls, and we will raise it on our own domains, rather than see the sacred tradition set at nought." the king's only answer was, "follow me," don alonzo hastily sending the boy luis to collect the younger knights who had already pledged themselves to the enterprise. a gallant troop, they made their way down the steep steps which led from the palace to the cave. the news had spread; the ladies had gathered on the balconies, and the bright face of one laughing girl looked from a bower window, while she tossed a rose to the happy luis. alas, it fell short of its mark and hit the robes of archbishop oppas, who stood with frowning face as the youngster swept by. the archbishop crushed it unwittingly in the hand that held the crosier. the rusty padlocks were broken, and each fell clanking on the floor, and was brushed away by mailed heels. they passed from room to room with torches, for the cavern extended far beneath the earth; yet they found no treasure save the jewelled table of solomon. but for their great expectations, this table alone might have proved sufficient to reward their act of daring. some believed that it had been brought by the romans from solomon's temple, and from rome by the goths and vandals who sacked that city and afterwards conquered spain; but all believed it to be sacred, and now saw it to be gorgeous. some describe it as being of gold, set with precious stones; others, as of gold and silver, making it yellow and white in hue, ornamented with a row of pearls, a row of rubies, and another row of emeralds. it is generally agreed that it stood on three hundred and sixty feet, each made of a single emerald. being what it was, the king did not venture to remove it, but left it where it was. traversing chamber after chamber and finding all empty, they at last found all passages leading to the inmost apartment, which had a marble urn in the centre. yet all eyes presently turned from this urn to a large painting on the wall which displayed a troop of horsemen in full motion. their horses were of arab breed, their arms were scimitars and lances, with fluttering pennons; they wore turbans, and their coarse black hair fell over their shoulders; they were dressed in skins. never had there been seen by the courtiers a mounted troop so wild, so eager, so formidable. turning from them to the marble urn, the king drew from it a parchment, which said: "these are the people who, whenever this cave is entered and the spell contained in this urn is broken, shall possess this country. an idle curiosity has done its work.[ ] [footnote : "_latinas letras á la margen puestas decian:--'cuando aquesta puerta y arca fueran abiertas, gentes como estas pondrán por tierra cuanto españa abarca._" --lope de vega.] the rash king, covering his eyes with his hands, fled outward from the cavern; his knights followed him, but don alonzo lingered last except the boy luis. "nevertheless, my lord," said luis, "i should like to strike a blow at these bold barbarians." "we may have an opportunity," said the gloomy knight. he closed the centre gate of the cavern, and tried to replace the broken padlocks, but it was in vain. in twenty-four hours the story had travelled over the kingdom. the boy luis little knew into what a complex plot he was drifting. in the secret soul of his protector, don alonzo, there burned a great anger against the weak and licentious king. he and his father, count julian, and archbishop oppas, his uncle, were secretly brooding plans of wrath against don rodrigo for his ill treatment of don alonzo's sister, florinda. rumors had told them that an army of strange warriors from africa, who had hitherto carried all before them, were threatening to cross the straits not yet called gibraltar, and descend on spain. all the ties of fidelity held these courtiers to the king; but they secretly hated him, and wished for his downfall. by the next day they had planned to betray him to the moors. count julian had come to make his military report to don rodrigo, and on some pretext had withdrawn florinda from the court. "when you come again," said the pleasure-loving king, "bring me some hawks from the south, that we may again go hawking." "i will bring you hawks enough," was the answer, "and such as you never saw before." "but rodrigo," says the arabian chronicler, "did not understand the full meaning of his words." it was a hard blow for the young luis when he discovered what a plot was being urged around him. he would gladly have been faithful to the king, worthless as he knew him to be; but don alonzo had been his benefactor, and he held by him. meanwhile the conspiracy drew towards completion, and the arab force was drawing nearer to the straits. a single foray into spain had shown musa, the arab general, the weakness of the kingdom; that the cities were unfortified, the citizens unarmed, and many of the nobles lukewarm towards the king. "hasten," he said, "towards that country where the palaces are filled with gold and silver, and the men cannot fight in their defence." accordingly, in the early spring of the year , musa sent his next in command, tarik, to cross to spain with an army of seven thousand men, consisting mostly of chosen cavalry. they crossed the straits then called the sea of narrowness, embarking the troops at tangier and ceute in many merchant vessels, and landing at that famous promontory called thenceforth by the arab general's name, the rock of tarik, dschebel-tarik, or, more briefly, gibraltar. luis, under don alonzo, was with the spanish troops sent hastily down to resist the arab invaders, and, as these troops were mounted, he had many opportunities of seeing the new enemies and observing their ways. they were a picturesque horde; their breasts were covered with mail armor; they wore white turbans on their heads, carried their bows slung across their backs, and their swords suspended to their girdles, while they held their long spears firmly grasped in their hands. the arabs said that their fashion of mail armor had come to them from king david, "to whom," they said, "god made iron soft, and it became in his hands as thread." more than half of them were mounted on the swift horses which were peculiar to their people; and the white, red, and black turbans and cloaks made a most striking picture around the camp-fires. these men, too, were already trained and successful soldiers, held together both by a common religion and by the hope of spoil. there were twelve thousand of them by the most probable estimate,--for musa had sent reinforcements,--and they had against them from five to eight times their number. but of the spaniards only a small part were armed or drilled, or used to warfare, and great multitudes of them had to put their reliance in clubs, slings, axes, and short scythes. the cavalry were on the wings, where luis found himself, with count julian and archbishop oppas to command them. soon, however, don alonzo and luis were detached, with others, to act as escort to the king, don rodrigo. the battle began soon after daybreak on sunday, july , . as the spanish troops advanced, their trumpets sounded defiance and were answered by moorish horns and kettledrums. while they drew near, the shouts of the spaniards were drowned in the _lelie_ of the arabs, the phrase _lá ilá-ha ella-llah_--there is no deity but god. as they came nearer yet, there is a tradition that rodrigo looking on the moslem, said, "by the faith of the messiah, these are the very men i saw painted on the walls of the cave at toledo." yet he certainly bore himself like a king, and he rode on the battle-field in a chariot of ivory lined with gold, having a silken awning decked with pearls and rubies, while the vehicle was drawn by three white mules abreast. he was then nearly eighty, and was dressed in a silken robe embroidered with pearls. he had brought with him in carts and on mules his treasures in jewels and money; and he had trains of mules whose only load consisted of ropes, to bind the arms of his captives, so sure was he of making every arab his prisoner. driving along the lines he addressed his troops boldly, and arriving at the centre quitted his chariot, put on a horned helmet, and mounted his white horse orelio. this was before the invention of gunpowder, and all battles were hand to hand. on the first day the result was doubtful, and tarik rode through the arab ranks, calling on them to fight for their religion and their safety. as the onset began, tarik rode furiously at a spanish chief whom he took for the king, and struck him down. for a moment it was believed to be the king whom he had killed, and from that moment new energy was given to the arabs. the line of the spaniards wavered; and at this moment the whole wing of cavalry to which luis belonged rode out from its place and passed on the flank of the army, avoiding both spaniard and arab. "what means this?" said luis to the horseman by his side. "it means," was the answer, "that bishop oppas is betraying the king." at this moment don alonzo rode up and cheered their march with explanations. "no more," he said, "will we obey this imbecile old king who can neither fight nor govern. he and his troops are but so many old women; it is only these arabs who are men. all is arranged with tarik, and we will save our country by joining the only man who can govern it." luis groaned in dismay; it seemed to him an act of despicable treachery; but those around him seemed mostly prepared for it, and he said to himself, "after all, don alonzo is my chief; i must hold by him;" so he kept with the others, and the whole cavalry wing followed oppas to a knoll, whence they watched the fight. it soon became a panic; the arabs carried all before them, and the king himself was either killed or hid himself in a convent. many a spaniard of the seceding wing of cavalry reproached himself afterwards for what had been done; and while the archbishop had some influence with the conquering general and persuaded him to allow the christians everywhere to retain a part of their churches, yet he had, after all, the reward of a traitor in contempt and self-reproach. this he could bear no longer, and organizing an expedition from a spanish port, he and six minor bishops, with many families of the christians, made their way towards gibraltar. they did not make their escape, however, without attracting notice and obstruction. as they rode among the hills with their long train, soldiers, ecclesiastics, women, and children, they saw a galloping band of arabs in pursuit. the archbishop bade them turn instantly into a deserted castle they were just passing, to drop the portcullis and man the walls. that they might look as numerous as possible, he bade all the women dress themselves like men and tie their long hair beneath their chins to resemble beards. he then put helmets on their heads and lances in their hands, and thus the arab leader saw a formidable host on the walls to be besieged. in obedience, perhaps, to orders, he rode away and after sufficient time had passed, the archbishop's party rode onward towards their place of embarkation. luis found himself beside a dark-eyed maiden, who ambled along on a white mule, and when he ventured to joke her a little on her late appearance as an armed cavalier, she said coyly, "did you think my only weapons were roses?" looking eagerly at her, he recognized the laughing face which he had once seen at a window; but ere he could speak again she had struck her mule lightly and taken refuge beside the archbishop, where luis dared not venture. he did not recognize the maiden again till they met on board one of the vessels which the arabs had left at gibraltar, and on which they embarked for certain islands of which oppas had heard, which lay in the sea of darkness. among these islands they were to find their future home. the voyage, at first rough, soon became serene and quiet; the skies were clear, the moon shone; the veils of the spanish maidens were convenient by day and useless at evening, and luis had many a low-voiced talk on the quarter-deck with juanita, who proved to be a young relative of the archbishop. it was understood that she was to take the veil, and that, young as she was, she would become, by and by, the lady abbess of a nunnery to be established on the islands; and as her kinsman, though severe to others, was gentle to her, she had her own way a good deal-- especially beneath the moon and the stars. for the rest, they had daily services of religion, as dignified and sonorous as could have taken place on shore, except on those rare occasions when the chief bass voice was hushed in seasickness in some cabin below. beautiful gregorian masses rose to heaven, and it is certain that the pilgrim fathers, in their two months on the atlantic, almost a thousand years later, had no such rich melody as floated across those summer seas. luis was a favorite of oppas, the archbishop, who never seemed to recognize any danger in having an enamoured youth so near to the demure future abbess. he consulted the youth about many plans. their aim, it seemed, was the great island called antillia, as yet unexplored, but reputed to be large enough for many thousand people. oppas was to organize the chief settlement, and he planned to divide the island into seven dioceses, each bishop having a permanent colony. once established, they would trade with spain, and whether it remained moorish or became christian, oppas was sure of friendly relations. the priests were divided among the three vessels, and among them there was that occasional jarring from which even holy men are not quite free. the different bishops had their partisans, but none dared openly face the imperial oppas. his supposed favorite luis was less formidable; he was watched and spied upon, while his devotion to the dignified juanita was apparent to all. yet he was always ready to leave her side when oppas called, and then they discussed together the future prospects of the party: when they should see land, whether it would really be antillia, whether they should have a good landfall, whether the island would be fertile, whether there would be native inhabitants, and if so, whether they should be baptized and sent to spain as slaves, or whether they should be retained on the island. it was decided, on the whole, that this last should be done; and what with the prospect of winning souls, and the certainty of having obedient subjects, the prospect seemed inviting. one morning, at sunrise, there lay before them a tropic island, soft and graceful, with green shrubs and cocoanut trees, and rising in the distance to mountains whose scooped tops and dark, furrowed sides spoke of extinct volcanoes--yet not so extinct but that a faint wreath of vapor still mounted from the utmost peak of the highest among them. here and there were seen huts covered with great leaves or sheaves of grass, and among these they saw figures moving and disappearing, watching their approach, yet always ready to disappear in the recesses of the woods. sounding carefully the depth of water with their imperfect tackle, they anchored off the main beach, and sent a boat on shore from each vessel, luis being in command of one. the natives at first hovered in the distance, but presently came down to the shore to meet the visitors, some even swimming off to the boats in advance. they were of a yellow complexion, with good features, were naked except for goat-skins or woven palm fibres, or reeds painted in different colors; and were gay and merry, singing and dancing among themselves. when brought on board the ships, they ate bread and figs, but refused wine and spices; and they seemed not to know the use of rings or of swords, when shown to them. whatever was given to them they divided with one another. they cultivated fruit and grain on their island, reared goats, and seemed willing to share all with their newly found friends. luis, always thoughtful, and somewhat anxious in temperament, felt many doubts as to the usage which these peaceful islanders would receive from the ships' company, no matter how many bishops and holy men might be on board. all that day there was exploring by small companies, and on the next the archbishop landed in solemn procession. the boats from the ships all met at early morning, near the shore, the sight bringing together a crowd of islanders on the banks; men, women, and children, who, with an instinct that something of importance was to happen, decked themselves with flowers, wreaths, and plumes, the number increasing constantly and the crowd growing more and more picturesque. forming from the boats, a procession marched slowly up the beach, beginning with a few lay brethren, carrying tools for digging; then acolytes bearing tall crosses; and then white-robed priests; the seven bishops being carried on litters, the archbishop most conspicuously of all. solemn chants were sung as the procession moved through the calm water towards the placid shore, and the gentle savages joined in kneeling while a solemn mass was said, and the crosses were uplifted which took possession of the new-found land in the name of the church. these solemn services occupied much of the day; later they carried tents on shore, and some of them occupied large storehouses which the natives had built for drying their figs; and to the women, under direction of juanita, was allotted a great airy cave, with smaller caves branching from it, where the natives had made palm baskets. day after day they labored, transferring all their goods and provisions to the land,--tools, and horses, and mules, clothing, and simple furniture. most of them joined with pleasure in this toil, but others grew restless as they transferred all their possessions to land, and sometimes the women especially would climb to high places and gaze longingly towards spain. one morning a surprise came to luis. every night it was their custom to have a great fire on the beach, and to meet and sing chants around it. one night luis had personally put out the blaze of the fire, as it was more windy than usual, and went to sleep in his tent. soon after midnight he was awakened by a glare of a great light upon his tent's thin walls, and hastily springing up, he saw their largest caravel on fire. rushing out to give the alarm, he saw a similar flame kindled in the second vessel, and then, after some delay, in the third. then he saw a dark boat pulling hastily towards the shore, and going down to the beach he met their most trusty captain, who told him that the ships had been burnt by order of the archbishop, in order that their return might be hopeless, and that their stay on the island might be forever. there was some lamentation among the emigrants when they saw their retreat thus cut off, but luis when once established on shore did not share it; to be near juanita was enough for him, though he rarely saw her. he began sometimes to feel that the full confidence of the archbishop was withdrawn from him, but he was still high in office, and he rode with oppas over the great island, marking it out by slow degrees into seven divisions, that each bishop might have a diocese and a city of his own. soon the foundations began to be laid, and houses and churches began to be built, for the soft volcanic rock was easily worked, though not very solid for building. the spot for the cathedral was selected with the unerring eye for a fine situation which the roman catholic church has always shown, and the adjoining convent claimed, as it rose, the care of juanita. as general superintendent of the works, it was the duty of luis sometimes to be in that neighborhood, until one unlucky day when the two lovers, lingering to watch the full moon rise, were interrupted by one of the younger bishops, a black-browed spaniard of stealthy ways, who had before now taken it upon himself to watch them. nothing could be more innocent than their dawning loves, yet how could any love be held innocent on the part of a maiden who was the kinswoman of an archbishop and was his destined choice for the duties of an abbess? the fact that she had never yet taken her preliminary vows or given her consent to take them, counted for nothing in the situation; though any experienced lady-superior could have told the archbishop that no maiden could be wisely made an abbess until she had given some signs of having a vocation for a religious life. from that moment the youthful pair met no more for weeks. it seemed always necessary for luis to be occupied elsewhere than in the cathedral city; as the best architect on the island, he was sent here, there, and everywhere; and the six other churches rose with more rapidity because the archbishop preferred to look after his own. the once peaceful natives found themselves a shade less happy when they were required to work all day long as quarry-men or as builders, but it was something, had they but known it, that they were not borne away as slaves, as happened later on other islands to so many of their race. to luis they were always loyal for his cheery ways, although there seemed a change in his spirits as time went on. but an event happened which brought a greater change still. a spanish caravel was seen one day, making towards the port and showing signals of distress. luis, having just then found an excuse for visiting the cathedral city, was the first to board her and was hailed with joy by the captain. he was a townsman of the youth's and had given him his first lessons in navigation. he had been bound, it seemed, for the canary islands, and had put in for repairs, which needed only a few days in the quiet waters of a sheltered port. he could tell luis of his parents, of his home, and that the northern part of spain, under arab sway, was humanely governed, and a certain proportion of christian churches allowed. in a few days the caravel sailed again at nightfall; but it carried with it two unexpected passengers; the archbishop lost his architect, and the proposed convent lost its unwilling abbess. from this point both the island of the seven cities and its escaping lovers disappear from all definite records. it was a period when expeditions of discovery came and went, and when one wondrous tale drove out another. there exist legends along the northern coast of spain in the region of santander, for instance, of a youth who once eloped with a high-born maiden and came there to dwell, but there may have been many such youths and many such maidens--who knows? of antillia itself, or the island of the seven cities, it is well known that it appeared on the maps of the atlantic, sometimes under the one name and sometimes under another, six hundred years after the date assigned by the story that has here been told. it was said by fernando columbus to have been revisited by a portuguese sailor in ; and the name appeared on the globe of behaim in . the geographer toscanelli, in his famous letter to columbus, recommended antillia as likely to be useful to columbus as a way station for reaching india, and when the great explorer reached hispaniola, he was supposed to have discovered the mysterious island, whence the name of antilles was given to the group. later, the first explorers of new mexico thought that the pueblos were the seven cities; so that both the names of the imaginary island have been preserved, although those of luis de vega and his faithful juanita have not been recorded until the telling of this tale. xvi harald the viking erik the red, the most famous of all vikings, had three sons, and once when they were children the king came to visit erik and passed through the playground where the boys were playing. leif and biorn, the two oldest, were building little houses and barns and were making believe that they were full of cattle and sheep, while harald, who was only four years old, was sailing chips of wood in a pool. the king asked harald what they were, and he said, "ships of war." king olaf laughed and said, "the time may come when you will command ships, my little friend." then he asked biorn what he would like best to have. "corn-land," he said; "ten farms." "that would yield much corn," the king replied. then he asked leif the same question, and he answered, "cows." "how many?" "so many that when they went to the lake to be watered, they would stand close round the edge, so that not another could pass." "that would be a large housekeeping," said the king, and he asked the same question of harald. "what would you like best to have?" "servants and followers," said the child, stoutly. "how many would you like?" "enough," said the child, "to eat up all the cows and crops of my brothers at a single meal." then the king laughed, and said to the mother of the children, "you are bringing up a king." as the boys grew, leif and harald were ever fond of roaming, while biorn wished to live on the farm at peace. their sister freydis went with the older boys and urged them on. she was not gentle and amiable, but full of energy and courage: she was also quarrelsome and vindictive. people said of her that even if her brothers were all killed, yet the race of erik the red would not end while she lived; that "she practised more of shooting and the handling of sword and shield than of sewing or embroidering, and that as she was able, she did evil oftener than good; and that when she was hindered she ran into the woods and slew men to get their property." she was always urging her brothers to deeds of daring and adventure. one day they had been hawking, and when they let slip the falcons, harald's falcon killed two blackcocks in one flight and three in another. the dogs ran and brought the birds, and he said proudly to the others, "it will be long before most of you have any such success," and they all agreed to this. he rode home in high spirits and showed his birds to his sister freydis. "did any king," he asked, "ever make so great a capture in so short a time?" "it is, indeed," she said, "a good morning's hunting to have got five blackcocks, but it was still better when in one morning a king of norway took five kings and subdued all their kingdoms." then harald went away very humble and besought his father to let him go and serve on the varangian guard of king otho at constantinople, that he might learn to be a warrior. so harald was brought from his norwegian home by his father erik the red, in his galley called the _sea-serpent_, and sailed with him through the mediterranean sea, and was at last made a member of the emperor otho's varangian guard at constantinople. this guard will be well remembered by the readers of scott's novel, "count robert of paris," and was maintained by successive emperors and drawn largely from the scandinavian races. erik the red had no hesitation in leaving his son among them, as the young man was stout and strong, very self-willed, and quite able to defend himself. the father knew also that the varangian guard, though hated by the people, held to one another like a band of brothers; and that any one brought up among them would be sure of plenty of fighting and plenty of gold,--the two things most prized by early norsemen. for ordinary life, harald's chief duties would be to lounge about the palace, keeping guard, wearing helmet and buckler and bearskin, with purple underclothes and golden clasped hose; and bearing as armor a mighty battle-axe and a small scimitar. such was the life led by harald, till one day he had a message from his father, through a new recruit, calling him home to join an expedition to the western seas. "i hear, my son," the message said, "that your good emperor, whom may the gods preserve, is sorely ill and may die any day. when he is dead, be prompt in getting your share of the plunder of the palace and come back to me." the emperor died, and the order was fulfilled. it was the custom of the varangians to reward themselves in this way for their faithful services of protection; and the result is that, to this day, greek and arabic gold crosses and chains are to be found in the houses of norwegian peasants and may be seen in the museums of christiania and copenhagen. no one was esteemed the less for this love of spoil, if he was only generous in giving. the norsemen spoke contemptuously of gold as "the serpent's bed," and called a generous man "a hater of the serpent's bed," because such a man parts with gold as with a thing he hates. when the youth came to his father, he found erik the red directing the building of one of the great norse galleys, nearly eighty feet long and seventeen wide and only six feet deep. the boat had twenty ribs, and the frame was fastened together by withes made of roots, while the oaken planks were held by iron rivets. the oars were twenty feet long, and were put through oar holes, and the rudder, shaped like a large oar, was not at the end, but was attached to a projecting beam on the starboard (originally steer-board) side. the ship was to be called a dragon, and was to be painted so as to look like one, having a gilded dragon's head at the bow and a gilded tail on the stern; while the moving oars would look like legs, and the row of red and white shields, hung along the side of the boat, would resemble the scales of a dragon, and the great square sails, red and blue, would look like wings. this was the vessel which young harald was to command. he had already made trips in just such vessels with his father; had learned to attack the enemy with arrow and spear; also with stones thrown down from above, and with grappling-irons to clutch opposing boats. he had learned to swim, from early childhood, even in the icy northern waters, and he had been trained in swimming to hide his head beneath his floating shield, so that it could not be seen. he had learned also to carry tinder in a walnut shell, enclosed in wax, so that no matter how long he had been in the water he could strike a light on reaching shore. he had also learned from his father acts of escape as well as attack. thus he had once sailed on a return trip from denmark after plundering a town; the ships had been lying at anchor all night in a fog, and at sunlight in the morning lights seemed burning on the sea. but erik the red said, "it is a fleet of danish ships, and the sun strikes on the gilded dragon crests; furl the sail and take to the oars." they rowed their best, yet the danish ships were overtaking them, when erik the red ordered his men to throw wood overboard and cover it with danish plunder. this made some delay, as the danes stopped to pick it up, and in the same way erik the red dropped his provisions, and finally his prisoners; and in the delay thus caused he got away with his own men. but now harald was not to go to denmark, but to the new western world, the wonderstrands which leif had sought and had left without sufficient exploration. first, however, he was to call at greenland, which his father had first discovered. it was the custom of the viking explorers, when they reached a new country, to throw overboard their "seat posts," or _setstokka_,--the curved part of their doorways,--and then to land where they floated ashore. but erik the red had lent his to a friend and could not get them back, so that he sailed in search of them, and came to a new land which he called greenland, because, as he said, people would be attracted thither if it had a good name. then he established a colony there, and then leif the lucky, as he was called, sailed still farther, and came to the wonderstrand, or magic shores. these he called vinland or wine-land, and now a rich man named karlsefne was to send a colony thither from greenland, and the young harald was to go with it and take command of it. now as harald was to be presented to the rich karlsefne, he thought he must be gorgeously arrayed. so he wore a helmet on his head, a red shield richly inlaid with gold and iron, and a sharp sword with an ivory handle wound with golden thread. he had also a short spear, and wore over his coat a red silk short cloak on which was embroidered, both before and behind, a yellow lion. we may well believe that the sixty men and five women who composed the expedition were ready to look on him with admiration, especially as one of the women was his own sister, freydis, now left to his peculiar care, since erik the red had died. the sturdy old hero had died still a heathen, and it was only just after his death that christianity was introduced into greenland, and those numerous churches were built there whose ruins yet remain, even in regions from which all population has gone. so the party of colonists sailed for vinland, and freydis, with the four older women, came in harald's boat, and freydis took easily the lead among them for strength, though not always, it must be admitted, for amiability. the boats of the expedition having left greenland soon after the year , coasted the shore as far as they could, rarely venturing into open sea. at last, amidst fog and chilly weather, they made land at a point where a river ran through a lake into the sea, and they could not enter from the sea except at high tide. it was once believed that this was narragansett bay in rhode island, but this is no longer believed. here they landed and called the place hóp, from the icelandic word _hópa_, meaning an inlet from the ocean. here they found grape-vines growing and fields of wild wheat; there were fish in the lake and wild animals in the woods. here they landed the cattle and the provisions which they had brought with them; and here they built their huts. they went in the spring, and during that summer the natives came in boats of skin to trade with them--men described as black, and ill favored, with large eyes and broad cheeks and with coarse hair on their heads. these, it is thought, may have been the esquimaux. the first time they came, these visitors held up a white shield as a sign of peace, and were so frightened by the bellowing of the bull that they ran away. then returning, they brought furs to sell and wished to buy weapons, but harald tried another plan: he bade the women bring out milk, butter, and cheese from their dairies, and when the skraelings saw that, they wished for nothing else, and, the legend says, "the skraelings carried away their wares in their stomachs, but the norsemen had the skins they had purchased." this happened yet again, but at the second visit one of the skraelings was accidentally killed or injured. the next time the skraelings came they were armed with slings, and raised upon a pole a great blue ball and attacked the norsemen so furiously that they were running away when erik's sister, freydis, came out before them with bare arms, and took up a sword, saying, "why do you run, strong men as you are, from these miserable dwarfs whom i thought you would knock down like cattle? give me weapons, and i will fight better than any of you." then the rest took courage and began to fight, and the skraelings were driven back. once more the strangers came, and one of them took up an axe, a thing which he had not before seen, and struck at one of his companions, killing him. then the leader took the axe and threw it into the water, after which the skraelings retreated, and were not seen again. the winter was a mild one, and while it lasted, the norsemen worked busily at felling wood and house-building. they had also many amusements, in most of which harald excelled. they used to swim in all weathers. one of their feats was to catch seals and sit on them while swimming; another was to pull one another down and remain as long as possible under water. harald could swim for a mile or more with his armor on, or with a companion on his shoulder. in-doors they used to play the tug of war, dragging each other by a walrus hide across the fire. harald was good at this, and was also the best archer, sometimes aiming at something placed on a boy's head, the boy having a cloth tied around his head, and held by two men, that he might not move at all on hearing the whistling of the arrow. in this way harald could even shoot an arrow under a nut placed on the head, so that the nut would roll down and the head not be hurt. he could plant a spear in the ground and then shoot an arrow upward so skilfully that it would turn in the air and fall with the point in the end of the spear-shaft. he could also shoot a blunt arrow through the thickest ox-hide from a cross-bow. he could change weapons from one hand to the other during a fencing match, or fence with either hand, or throw two spears at the same time, or catch a spear in motion. he could run so fast that no horse could overtake him, and play the rough games with bat and ball, using a ball of the hardest wood. he could race on snowshoes, or wrestle when bound by a belt to his antagonist. then when he and his companions wished a rest, they amused themselves with harp-playing or riddles or chess. the norsemen even played chess on board their vessels, and there are still to be seen, on some of these, the little holes that were formerly used for the sharp ends of the chessmen, so that they should not be displaced. they could not find that any european had ever visited this place; but some of the skraelings told them of a place farther south, which they called "the land of the whiteman," or "great ireland." they said that in that place there were white men who clothed themselves in long white garments, carried before them poles to which white cloths were hung, and called with a loud voice. these, it was thought by the norsemen, must be christian processions, in which banners were borne and hymns were chanted. it has been thought from this that some expedition from ireland--that of st. brandan, for instance--may have left a settlement there, long before, but this has never been confirmed. the skraelings and the northmen were good friends for a time; until at last one of erik's own warriors killed a skraeling by accident, and then all harmony was at an end. they saw no hope of making a lasting settlement there, and, moreover, freydis who was very grasping, tried to deceive the other settlers and get more than her share of everything, so that harald himself lost patience with her and threatened her. it happened that one of the men of the party, olaf, was harald's foster-brother. they had once had a fight, and after the battle had agreed that they would be friends for life and always share the same danger. for this vow they were to walk under the turf; that is, a strip of turf was cut and held above their heads, and they stood beneath and let their blood flow upon the ground whence the turf had been cut. after this they were to own everything by halves and either must avenge the other's death. this was their brotherhood; but freydis did not like it; so she threatened olaf, and tried to induce men to kill him, for she did not wish to bring upon herself the revenge that must come if she slew him. this was the reason why the whole enterprise failed, and why olaf persuaded harald, for the sake of peace, to return to greenland in the spring and take a load of valuable timber to sell there, including one stick of what was called massur-wood, which was as valuable as mahogany, and may have been at some time borne by ocean currents to the beach. it is hardly possible that, as some have thought, the colonists established a regular trade in this wood for no such wood grows on the northern atlantic shores. however this may be, the party soon returned, after one winter in vinland the good; and on the way back harald did one thing which made him especially dear to his men. a favorite feat of the norsemen was to toss three swords in the air and catch each by the handle as it came down. this was called the _handsax_ game. the young men used also to try the feat of running along the oar-blades of the rowers as they were in motion, passing around the bow of the vessel with a spring and coming round to the stern over the oars on the other side. few could accomplish this, but no one but harald could do it and play the _handsax_ game as he ran; and when he did it, they all said that he was the most skilful man at _idrottie_ ever seen. that was their word for an athletic feat. but presently came a time when not only his courage but his fairness and justice were to be tried. it happened in this way. there was nothing of which the norsemen were more afraid than of the _teredo_, or shipworm, which gnaws the wood of ships. it was observed in greenland and iceland that pieces of wood often floated on shore which were filled with holes made by this animal, and they thought that in certain places the seas were full of this worm, so that a ship would be bored and sunk in a little while. it is said that on this return voyage harald's vessel entered a worm-sea and presently began to sink. they had, however, provided a smaller boat smeared with sea-oil, which the worms would not attack. they went into the boat, but found that it would not hold more than half of them all. then harald said, "we will divide by lots, without regard to the rank; each taking his chance with the rest." this they thought, the norse legend says, "a high-minded offer." they drew lots, and harald was among those assigned to the safer boat. he stepped in, and when he was there a man called from the other boat and said, "dost thou intend, harald, to separate from me here?" harald answered, "so it turns out," and the man said, "very different was thy promise to my father when we came from greenland, for the promise was that we should share the same fate." then harald said, "it shall not be thus. go into the boat, and i will go back into the ship, since thou art so anxious to live." then harald went back to the ship, while the man took his place in the boat, and after that harald was never heard of more. xvii the search for norumbega sir humphrey gilbert, colonel of the british forces in the netherlands, was poring over the manuscript narrative of david ingram, mariner. ingram had in - taken the widest range of travel that had ever been taken in the new continent, of which it was still held doubtful by many whether it was or was not a part of asia. "surely," gilbert said to his half-brother, walter raleigh, a youth of twenty-three, "this knave hath seen strange things. he hath been set ashore by john hawkins in the gulf of mexico and there left behind. he hath travelled northward with two of his companions along indian trails; he hath even reached norumbega; he hath seen that famous city with its houses of crystal and silver." "pine logs and hemlock bark, belike," said raleigh, scornfully. "nay," said gilbert, "he hath carefully written it down. he saw kings decorated with rubies six inches long; and they were borne on chairs of silver and crystal, adorned with precious stones. he saw pearls as common as pebbles, and the natives were laden down by their ornaments of gold and silver. the city of bega was three-quarters of a mile long and had many streets wider than those of london. some houses had massive pillars of crystal and silver." "what assurance can he give?" asked raleigh. "he offers on his life to prove it." "a small offer, mayhap. there be many of these lying mariners whose lives are as worthless as the stories they relate. but what said he of the natives?" "kindly disposed," was the reply, "so far as he went, but those dwelling farther north, where he did not go, were said to be cannibals with teeth like those of dogs, whereby you may know them." "travellers' tales," said raleigh. "_omne ignotum pro mirifico_." "he returned," said gilbert, disregarding the interruption, "in the _gargarine_, a french vessel commanded by captain champagne." "methinks something of the flavor represented by the good captain's name hath got into your englishman's brain. good ale never gives such fantasies. doth he perchance speak of elephants?" "he doth," said sir humphrey, hesitatingly. "perchance he saw them not, but heard of them only." "what says he of them?" asked raleigh. "he says that he saw in that country both elephants and ounces; and he says that their trumpets are made of elephants' teeth." "but the houses," said raleigh; "tell me of the houses." "in every house," said gilbert, reading from the manuscript, "they have scoops, buckets, and divers vessels, all of massive silver with which they throw out water and otherwise employ them. the women wear great plates of gold covering their bodies, and chains of great pearls in the manner of curvettes; and the men wear manilions or bracelets on each arm and each leg, some of gold and some of silver." "whence come they, these gauds?" "there are great rivers where one may find pieces of gold as big as the fist; and there are great rocks of crystal, sufficient to load many ships." this was all which was said on that day, but never was explorer more eager than gilbert. he wrote a "discourse of a discoverie for a new passage to cathaia and the east indies"--published without his knowledge by george gascoigne. in he had from queen elizabeth a patent of exploration, allowing him to take possession of any uncolonized lands in north america, paying for these a fifth of all gold and silver found. the next year he sailed with raleigh for newfoundland, but one vessel was lost and the others returned to england. in , he sailed again, taking with him the narrative of ingram, which he reprinted. he also took with him a learned hungarian from buda, named parmenius, who went for the express purpose of singing the praise of norumbega in latin verse, but was drowned in sir humphrey's great flag-ship, the _delight_. this wreck took place near sable island, and as most of the supplies for the expedition went down in the flag-ship, the men in the remaining vessels grew so impatient as to compel a return. there were two vessels, the _golden hind_ of forty tons, and the _squirrel_ of ten tons, this last being a mere boat then called a frigate, a small vessel propelled by both sails and oars, quite unlike the war-ship afterwards called by that name. on both these vessels the men were so distressed that they gathered on the bulwarks, pointing to their empty mouths and their ragged clothing. the officers of the _golden hind_ were unwilling to return, but consented on sir humphrey's promise that they should come back in the spring; they sailed for england on the st of august. all wished him to return in the _golden hind_ as a much larger and safer vessel; the _squirrel_, besides its smallness, being encumbered on the deck with guns, ammunition, and nettings, making it unseaworthy. but when he was begged to remove into the larger vessel, he said, "i will not forsake my little company going homeward with whom i have passed so many storms and perils." one reason for this was, the narrator of the voyage says, because of "hard reports given of him that he was afraid of the sea, albeit this was rather rashness than advised resolution, to prefer the wind of a vain report to the weight of his own life." on the very day of sailing they caught their first glimpse of some large species of seal or walrus, which is thus described by the old narrator of the expedition:-- "so vpon saturday in the afternoone the of august, we changed our course, and returned backe for england, at which very instant, euen in winding about, there passed along betweene vs and towards the land which we now forsooke a very lion to our seeming, in shape, hair and colour, not swimming after the maner of a beast by moouing of his feete, but rather sliding vpon the water with his whole body (excepting the legs) in sight, neither yet in diuing vnder, and againe rising aboue the water, as the maner is, of whales, dolphins, tunise, porposes, and all other fish: but confidently shewing himselfe aboue water without hiding: notwithstanding, we presented our selues in open view and gesture to amase him, as all creatures will be commonly at a sudden gaze and sight of men. thus he passed along turning his head to and fro, yawning and gaping wide, with ougly demonstration of long teeth, and glaring eies, and to bidde vs a farewell (comming right against the hinde) he sent forth a horrible voyce, roaring or bellowing as doeth a lion, which spectacle wee all beheld so farre as we were able to discerne the same, as men prone to wonder at euery strange thing, as this doubtlesse was, to see a lion in the ocean sea, or fish in shape of a lion. what opinion others had thereof, and chiefly the generall himselfe, i forbeare to deliuer: but he tooke it for bonum omen [a good omen], reioycing that he was to warre against such an enemie, if it were the deuill." when they came north of the azores, very violent storms met them; most "outrageous seas," the narrator says; and they saw little lights upon the mainyard called then by sailors "castor and pollux," and now "st. elmo's fire"; yet they had but one of these at a time, and this is thought a sign of tempest. on september , in the afternoon, "the general," as they called him, sir humphrey, was sitting abaft with a book in his hand, and cried out more than once to those in the other vessel, "we are as near to heaven by sea as by land." and that same night about twelve o'clock, the frigate being ahead of the _golden hind_, the lights of the smaller vessel suddenly disappeared, and they knew that she had sunk in the sea. the event is well described in a ballad by longfellow. the name of norumbega and the tradition of its glories survived sir humphrey gilbert. in a french map of , the town appears with castle and towers. jean allfonsce, who visited new england in that year, describes it as the capital of a great fur country. students of indian tongues defined the word as meaning "the place of a fine city"; while the learned grotius seized upon it as being the same as norberga and so affording a relic of the visits of the northmen. as to the locality, it appeared first on the maps as a large island, then as a smaller one, and after no longer as an island, but a part of the mainland, bordering apparently on the penobscot river. whittier in his poem of "norumbega" describes a norman knight as seeking it in vain. "he turned him back, 'o master dear, we are but men misled; and thou hast sought a city here to find a grave instead. * * * * * "'no builded wonder of these lands my weary eyes shall see; a city never made with hands alone awaiteth me.'" so champlain, in , could find no trace of it, and said that "no such marvel existed," while mark lescarbot, the parisian advocate, writing in , says, "if this beautiful town ever existed in nature, i would like to know who pulled it down, for there is nothing here but huts made of pickets and covered with the barks of trees or skins." yet it kept its place on maps till , and even heylin in his "cosmography" ( ) speaks of "norumbega and its fair city," though he fears that the latter never existed. it is a curious fact that the late mr. justin winsor, the eminent historian, after much inquiry among the present descendants of the indian tribes in maine, could never find any one who could remember to have heard the name of norumbega. xviii the guardians of the st. lawrence when in the sieur de champlain went back to france to report his wonderful explorations in canada, he was soon followed by a young frenchman named vignan, who had spent a whole winter among the indians, in a village where there was no other white man. this was a method often adopted by the french for getting more knowledge of indian ways and commanding their confidence. vignan had made himself a welcome guest in the cabins, and had brought away many of their legends, to which he added some of his own. in particular, he declared that he had penetrated into the interior until he had come upon a great lake of salt water, far to the northwest. this was, as it happened, the very thing which the french government and all europe had most hoped to find. they had always believed that sooner or later a short cut would be discovered across the newly found continent, a passage leading to the pacific ocean and far cathay. this was the dream of all french explorers, and of champlain in particular, and his interest was at once excited by anything that looked toward the pacific. now vignan had prepared himself with just the needed information. he said that during his winter with the indians he had made the very discovery needed; that he had ascended the river ottawa, which led to a body of salt water so large that it seemed like an ocean; that he had just seen on its shores the wreck of an english ship, from which eighty men had been taken and slain by the savages, and that they had with them an english boy whom they were keeping to present to champlain. this tale about the english ship was evidently founded on the recent calamities of henry hudson, of which vignan had heard some garbled account, and which he used as coloring for his story. the result was that champlain was thoroughly interested in the tale, and that vignan was cross-examined and tested, and was made at last to certify to the truth of it before two notaries of rochelle. champlain privately consulted the chancellor de sillery, the old marquis de brissac, and others, who all assured him that the matter should be followed up; and he resolved to make it the subject of an exploration without delay. he sailed in one vessel, and vignan in another, the latter taking with him an ardent young frenchman, albert de brissac. m. de vignan, talking with the young brissac on the voyage, told him wonderful tales of monsters which were, he said, the guardians of the st. lawrence river. there was, he said, an island in the bay of chaleurs, near the mouth of that river, where a creature dwelt, having the form of a woman and called by the indians gougou. she was very frightful, and so enormous that the masts of the vessel could not reach her waist. she had already eaten many savages and constantly continued to do so, putting them first into a great pocket to await her hunger. some of those who had escaped said that this pocket was large enough to hold a whole ship. this creature habitually made dreadful noises, and several savages who came on board claimed to have heard them. a man from st. malo in france, the sieur de prevert, confirmed this story, and said that he had passed so near the den of this frightful being, that all on board could hear its hissing, and all hid themselves below, lest it should carry them off. this naturally made much impression upon the young sieur de brissac, and he doubtless wished many times that he had stayed at home. on the other hand, he observed that both m. de vignan and m. de prevert took the tale very coolly and that there seemed no reason why he should distrust himself if they did not. yet he was very glad when, after passing many islands and narrow straits, the river broadened and they found themselves fairly in the st. lawrence and past the haunted bay of chaleurs. they certainly heard a roaring and a hissing in the distance, but it may have been the waves on the beach. but this was not their last glimpse of the supposed guardians of the st. lawrence. as the ship proceeded farther up the beautiful river, they saw one morning a boat come forth from the woods, bearing three men dressed to look like devils, wrapped in dogs' skins, white and black, their faces besmeared as black as any coals, with horns on their heads more than a yard long, and as this boat passed the ship, one of the men made a long address, not looking towards them. then they all three fell flat in the boat, when indians rowed out to meet them and guided them to a landing. then many indians collected in the woods and began a loud talk which they could hear on board the ships and which lasted half an hour. then two of their leaders came towards the shore, holding their hands upward joined together, and meanwhile carrying their hats under their upper garments and showing great reverence. looking upward they sometimes cried, "jesus, jesus," or "jesus maria." then the captain asked them whether anything ill had happened, and they said in french, "nenni est il bon," meaning that it was not good. then they said that their god cudraigny had spoken in hochelaga (montreal) and had sent these three men to show to them that there was so much snow and ice in the country that he who went there would die. this made the frenchmen laugh, saying in reply that their god cudraigny was but a fool and a noddy and knew not what he said. "tell him," said a frenchman, "that christ will defend them from all cold, if they will believe in him." the indians then asked the captain if he had spoken with jesus. he answered no; but that his priests had, and they had promised fair weather. hearing this, they thanked the captain and told the other indians in the woods, who all came rushing out, seeming to be very glad. giving great shouts, they began to sing and dance as they had done before. they also began to bring to the ships great stores of fish and of bread made of millet, casting it into the french boats so thickly that it seemed to fall from heaven. then the frenchmen went on shore, and the people came clustering about them, bringing children in their arms to be touched, as if to hallow them. then the captain in return arranged the women in order and gave them beads made of tin, and other trifles, and gave knives to the men. all that night the indians made great fires and danced and sang along the shore. but when the frenchmen had finally reached the mouth of the ottawa and had begun to ascend it, under vignan's guidance, they had reasons to remember the threats of the god cudraigny. ascending the ottawa in canoes, past cataracts, boulders, and precipices, they at last, with great labor, reached the island of allumette, at a distance of two hundred and twenty-five miles. often it was impossible to carry their canoes past waterfalls, because the forests were so dense, so that they had to drag the boats by ropes, wading among rocks or climbing along precipices. gradually they left behind them their armor, their provisions, and clothing, keeping only their canoes; they lived on fish and wild fowl, and were sometimes twenty-four hours without food. champlain himself carried three french arquebuses or short guns, three oars, his cloak, and many smaller articles; and was harassed by dense clouds of mosquitoes all the time. vignan, brissac, and the rest were almost as heavily loaded. the tribe of indians whom they at last reached had chosen the spot as being inaccessible to their enemies; and thought that the newcomers had fallen from the clouds. when champlain inquired after the salt sea promised by vignan, he learned to his indignation that the whole tale was false. vignan had spent a winter at the very village where they were, but confessed that he had never gone a league further north. the indians knew of no such sea, and craved permission to torture and kill him for his deceptions; they called him loudly a liar, and even the children took up the cry and jeered at him. they said, "do you not see that he meant to cause your death? give him to us, and we promise you that he shall not lie any more." champlain defended him from their attacks, bore it all philosophically, and the young brissac went back to france, having given up hope of reaching the salt sea, except, as champlain himself coolly said, "in imagination." the guardians of the st. lawrence had at least exerted their spell to the extent of saying, thus far and no farther. vignan never admitted that he had invented the story of the gougou, and had bribed the indians who acted the part of devils,--and perhaps he did not,--but it is certain that neither the giantess nor the god cudraigny has ever again been heard from. xix the island of demons those american travellers who linger with delight among the narrow lanes and picturesque, overhanging roofs of honfleur, do not know what a strange tragedy took place on a voyage which began in that quaint old port three centuries and a half ago. when, in , the breton sailor jacques cartier returned from his early explorations of the st. lawrence, which he had ascended as high as hochelaga, king francis i. sent for him at the lofty old house known as the house of the salamander, in a narrow street of the quaint town of lisieux. it now seems incredible that the most powerful king in europe should have dwelt in such a meagre lane, yet the house still stands there as a witness; although a visitor must now brush away the rough, ready-made garments and fishermen's overalls which overhang its door. over that stairway, nevertheless, the troubadours, pierre ronsard and clement marot, used to go up and down, humming their lays or touching their viols; and through that door de lorge returned in glory, after leaping down into the lions' den to rescue his lady's glove. the house still derives its name from the great carved image of a reptile which stretches down its outer wall, from garret to cellar, beside the doorway. in that house the great king deigned to meet the breton sailor, who had set up along the st. lawrence a cross bearing the arms of france with the inscription _franciscus primus, dei gratia francorum rex regnat_; and had followed up the pious act by kidnapping the king donnacona, and carrying him back to france. this savage potentate was himself brought to lisieux to see his french fellow-sovereign; and the jovial king, eagerly convinced, decided to send cartier forth again, to explore for other wonders, and perhaps bring back other kingly brethren. meanwhile, however, as it was getting to be an affair of royalty, he decided to send also a gentleman of higher grade than a pilot, and so selected jean françois de la roche, sieur de roberval, whom he commissioned as lieutenant and governor of canada and hochelaga. roberval was a gentleman of credit and renown in picardy, and was sometimes jocosely called by francis "the little king of vimeu." he was commissioned at fontainebleau, and proceeded to superintend the building of ships at st. malo. marguerite roberval, his fair-haired and black-eyed niece, was to go with him on the voyage, with other ladies of high birth, and also with the widowed madame de noailles, her _gouvernante_. roberval himself remained at st. malo to superintend the building of the ships, and marguerite and her _gouvernante_ would sit for hours in a beautiful nook by the shipyards, where they could overlook the vessels in rapid construction, or else watch the wondrous swirl of the tide as it swept in and out, leaving the harbor bare at low tide, but with eight fathoms of water when the tide was full. the designer of the ships often came, cap in hand, to ask or answer questions--one of those frank and manly french fishermen and pilots, whom the french novelists describe as "_un solide gaillard_," or such as victor hugo paints in his "les travailleurs de la mer." the son of a notary, etienne gosselin was better educated than most of the young noblemen whom marguerite knew, and only his passion for the sea and for nautical construction had kept him a shipbuilder. no wonder that the young marguerite, who had led the sheltered life of the french maiden, was attracted by his manly look, his open face, his merry blue eyes, and curly hair. there was about her a tinge of romance, which made her heart an easier thing to reach for such a lover than for one within her own grade; and as the voyage itself was a world of romance, a little more or less of the romantic was an easy thing to add. meanwhile madame de noailles read her breviary and told her beads and took little naps, wholly ignorant of the drama that was beginning its perilous unfolding before her. when the sieur de roberval returned, the shipbuilder became a mere shipbuilder again. three tall ships sailed from honfleur on august , , and on one of them, _la grande hermine_,--so called to distinguish it from a smaller boat of that name, which had previously sailed with cartier,--were the sieur de roberval, his niece, and her _gouvernante_. she also had with her a huguenot nurse, who had been with her from a child, and cared for her devotedly. roberval naturally took with him, for future needs, the best shipbuilder of st. malo, etienne gosselin. the voyage was long, and there is reason to think that the sieur de roberval was not a good sailor, while as to the _gouvernante_, she may have been as helpless as the seasick chaperon of yachting excursions. like them, she suffered the most important events to pass unobserved, and it was not till too late that she discovered, what more censorious old ladies on board had already seen, that her young charge lingered too often and too long on the quarter-deck when etienne gosselin was planning ships for the uncle. when she found it out, she was roused to just indignation; but being, after all, but a kindly dowager, with a heart softened by much reading of the interminable tales of madame de scudéry, she only remonstrated with marguerite, wept over her little romance, and threatened to break the sad news to the sieur de roberval, yet never did so. other ladies were less considerate; it all broke suddenly upon the angry uncle; the youth was put in irons, and threatened with flogging, and forbidden to approach the quarter-deck again. but love laughs at locksmiths; gosselin was relieved of his irons in a day or two because he could not be spared from his work in designing the forthcoming ship, and as both he and marguerite were of a tolerably determined nature, they invoked, through the old nurse, the aid of a huguenot minister on board, who had before sailed with cartier to take charge of the souls of some protestant vagabonds on the ship, and who was now making a second trip for the same reason. that night, after dark, he joined the lovers in marriage; within twenty-four hours roberval had heard of it, and had vowed a vengeance quick and sure. the next morning, under his orders, the vessel lay to under the lee of a rocky island, then known to the sailors as l'isle des demons from the fierce winds that raged round it. there was no house there, no living person, no tradition of any; only rocks, sands, and deep forests. with dismay, the ship's company heard that it was the firm purpose of roberval to put the offending bride on shore, giving her only the old nurse for company, and there to leave her with provisions for three months, trusting to some other vessel to take the exiled women away within that time. the very ladies whose love of scandal had first revealed to him the alleged familiarities, now besought him with many tears to abandon the thought of a doom so terrible. vainly madame de noailles implored mercy for the young girl from a penalty such as was never imposed in any of madame de scudéry's romances; vainly the huguenot minister and the catholic chaplain, who had fought steadily on questions of doctrine during the whole voyage, now united in appeals for pardon. at least they implored him to let the offenders have a man-servant or two with them to protect them against wild beasts or buccaneers. he utterly refused until, at last wearied out, his wild nature yielded to one of those sudden impulses which were wont to sweep over it; and he exclaimed, "is it that they need a man-servant, then? let this insolent caitiff, gosselin, be relieved of his irons and sent on shore. let him be my niece's servant or, since a huguenot marriage is as good as any in the presence of bears and buccaneers, let her call the hound her husband, if she likes. i have done with her; and the race from which she came disowns her forever." thus it was done. etienne was released from his chains and sent on shore. an arquebus and ammunition were given him; and resisting the impulse to send his first shot through the heart of his tyrant, he landed, and the last glimpse seen of the group as the _grande hermine_ sailed away, was the figure of marguerite sobbing on his shoulder, and of the unhappy nurse, now somewhat plethoric, and certainly not the person to be selected as a pioneer, sitting upon a rock, weeping profusely. the ship's sails filled, the angry roberval never looked back on his deserted niece, and the night closed down upon the lonely isle of demons, now newly occupied by three unexpected settlers, two of whom at least were happy in each other. a few boxes of biscuits, a few bottles of wine, had been put on shore with them, enough to feed them for a few weeks. they had brought flint and steel to strike fire, and some ammunition. the chief penalty of the crime did not lie, after all, in the cold and the starvation and the wild beasts and the possible visits of pirates; it lay in the fact that it was the island of demons where they were to be left; and in that superstitious age this meant everything that was terrible. for the first few nights of their stay, they fancied that they heard superhuman voices in every wind that blew, every branch that creaked against another branch; and they heard, at any rate, more substantial sounds from the nightly wolves or from the bears which ice-floes had floated to that northern isle. they watched roberval sail away, he rejoicing, as the old legend of thevet says, at having punished them without soiling his hands with their blood (_ioueux de les auior puniz sans se souiller les mains en leurs sang_). they built as best they could a hut of boughs and strewed beds of leaves, until they had killed wild beasts enough to prepare their skins. their store of hard bread lasted them but a little while, but there were fruits around them, and there was fresh water near by. "yet it was terrible," says thevet's old narrative, "to hear the frightful sounds which the evil spirits made around them, and how they tried to break down their abode, and showed themselves in various forms of frightful animals; yet at last, conquered by the constancy and perseverance of these repentant christians, the tormentors afflicted or disquieted them no more, save that often in the night they heard cries so loud that it seemed as if more than five thousand men were assembled together" (_plus de cent mil homes qui fussent ensemble_). so passed many months of desolation, and alas! the husband was the first to yield. daily he climbed the rocks to look for vessels; each night he descended sadder and sadder; he waked while the others slept. feeling that it was he who had brought distress upon the rest, he concealed his depression, but it soon was past concealing; he only redoubled his care and watching as his wife grew the stronger of the two; and he faded slowly away and died. his wife had nothing to sustain her spirits except the approach of maternity--she would live for her child. when the child was born and baptized in the name of the holy church, though without the church's full ceremonies, marguerite felt the strength of motherhood; became a better huntress, a better provider. a new sorrow came; in the sixteenth or seventeenth month of her stay, the old nurse died also, and not long after the baby followed. marguerite now seemed to herself deserted, even by heaven itself; she was alone in that northern island without comradeship; her husband, child, and nurse gone; dependent for very food on the rapidly diminishing supply of ammunition. her head swam; for months she saw visions almost constantly, which only strenuous prayer banished, and only the acquired habit of the chase enabled her, almost mechanically, to secure meat to support life. fortunately, those especial sights and sounds of demons which had haunted her imagination during the first days and nights on the island, did not recur; but the wild beasts gathered round her the more when there was only one gun to alarm them; and she once shot three bears in a day,--one a white bear, of which she secured the skin. what imagination can depict the terrors of those lonely days and still lonelier nights? most persons left as solitary tenants of an island have dwelt, like alexander selkirk, in regions nearer the tropics, where there was at least a softened air, a fertile soil, and the southern cross above their heads; but to be solitary in a prolonged winter, to be alone with the northern lights,--this offered peculiar terrors. to be ice-bound, to hear the wolves in their long and dreary howl, to protect the very graves of her beloved from being dug up, to watch the floating icebergs, not knowing what new and savage visitor might be borne by them to the island, what a complication of terror was this for marguerite! for two years and five months in all she dwelt upon the isle of demons, the last year wholly alone. then, as she stood upon the shore, some breton fishing-smacks, seeking codfish, came in sight. making signals with fire and calling for aid, she drew them nearer; but she was now dressed in furs only, and seemed to them but one of the fancied demons of the island. beating up slowly and watchfully toward the shore, they came within hearing of her voice and she told her dreary tale. at last they took her in charge, and bore her back to france with the bearskins she had prepared; and taking refuge in the village of nautron, in a remote province (perigord), where she could escape the wrath of roberval, she told her story to thevet, the explorer, to the princess marguerite of navarre (sister of francis i.), and to others. thevet tells it in his "cosmographie," and marguerite of navarre in her "cent nouvelles nouvelles." she told thevet that after the first two months, the demons came to her no more, until she was left wholly alone; then they renewed their visits, but not continuously, and she felt less fear. thevet also records of her this touching confession, that when the time came for her to embark, in the breton ship, for home, there came over her a strong impulse to refuse the embarkation, but rather to die in that solitary place, as her husband, her child, and her servant had already died. this profound touch of human nature does more than anything else to confirm the tale as substantially true. certain it is that the lonely island which appeared so long on the old maps as the isle of demons (l'isola de demoni) appears differently in later ones as the lady's island (l'isle de la demoiselle). the princess marguerite of navarre, who died in , seems also to have known her namesake at her retreat in perigord, gives some variations from thevet's story, and describes her as having been put on shore with her husband, because of frauds which he had practised on roberval; nor does she speak of the nurse or of the child. but she gives a similar description of marguerite's stay on the island, after his death, and says, that although she lived what might seem a bestial life as to her body, it was a life wholly angelic as regarded her soul (_aînsî vivant, quant au corps, de vie bestiale, et quant à l'esprit, de vie angelîcque_). she had, the princess also says, a mind cheerful and content, in a body emaciated and half dead. she was afterwards received with great honor in france, according to the princess, and was encouraged to establish a school for little children, where she taught reading and writing to the daughters of high-born families. "and by this honest industry," says the princess, "she supported herself during the remainder of her life, having no other wish than to exhort every one to love and confidence towards god, offering them as an example, the great pity which he had shown for her." xx bimini and the fountain of youth when juan ponce de leon set forth from porto rico, march , , to seek the island of bimini and its fountain of youth, he was moved by the love of adventure more than by that of juvenility, for he was then but about fifty, a time when a cavalier of his day thought himself but in his prime. he looked indeed with perpetual sorrow--as much of it as a spaniard of those days could feel--upon his kinsman luis ponce, once a renowned warrior, but on whom age had already, at sixty-five, laid its hand in earnest. there was little in this slowly moving veteran to recall one who had shot through the lists at the tournament, and had advanced with his short sword at the bull fight,--who had ruled his vassals, and won the love of high-born women. it was a vain hope of restored youth which had brought don luis from spain to porto rico four years before; and, when ponce de leon had subdued that island, his older kinsman was forever beseeching him to carry his flag farther, and not stop till he had reached bimini, and sought the fountain of youth. "for what end," he said, "should you stay here longer and lord it over these miserable natives? let us go where we can bathe in those enchanted waters and be young once more. i need it, and you will need it ere long." "how know we," said his kinsman, "that there is any such place?" "all know it," said luis. "peter martyr saith that there is in bimini a continual spring of running water of such marvellous virtue that the water thereof, being drunk, perhaps with some diet, maketh old men young." and he adds that an indian grievously oppressed with old age, moved with the fame of that fountain, and allured through the love of longer life, went to an island, near unto the country of florida, to drink of the desired fountain, ... and having well drunk and washed himself for many days with the appointed remedies, by them who kept the bath, he is reported to have brought home a manly strength, and to have used all manly exercises. "let us therefore go thither," he cried, "and be like him." they set sail with three brigantines and found without difficulty the island of bimini among the lucayos (or bahamas) islands; but when they searched for the fountain of youth they were pointed farther westward to florida, where there was said to be a river of the same magic powers, called the jordan. touching at many a fair island green with trees, and occupied by a gentle population till then undisturbed, it was not strange if, nearing the coast of florida, both juan ponce de leon and his more impatient cousin expected to find the fountain of youth. they came at last to an inlet which led invitingly up among wooded banks and flowery valleys, and here the older knight said, "let us disembark here and strike inland. my heart tells me that here at last will be found the fountain of youth." "nonsense," said juan, "our way lies by water." "then leave me here with my men," said luis. he had brought with him five servants, mostly veterans, from his own estate in spain. a fierce discussion ended in luis obtaining his wish, and being left for a fortnight of exploration; his kinsman promising to come for him again at the mouth of the river st. john. the men left on shore were themselves past middle age, and the more eager for their quest. they climbed a hill and watched the brigantines disappear in the distance; then set up a cross, which they had brought with them, and prayed before it bareheaded. sending the youngest of his men up to the top of a tree, luis learned from him that they were on an island, after all, and this cheered him much, as making it more likely that they should find the fountain of youth. he saw that the ground was pawed up, as if in a cattle-range and that there was a path leading to huts. taking this path, they met fifty indian bowmen, who, whether large or not, seemed to them like giants. the spaniards gave them beads and hawk-bells, and each received in return an arrow, as a token of friendship. the indians promised them food in the morning, and brought fish, roots, and pure water; and finding them chilly from the coldness of the night, carried them in their arms to their homes, first making four or five large fires on the way. at the houses there were many fires, and the spaniards would have been wholly comfortable, had they not thought it just possible that they were to be offered as a sacrifice. still fearing this, they left their indian friends after a few days and traversed the country, stopping at every spring or fountain to test its quality. alas! they all grew older and more worn in look, as time went on, and farther from the fountain of youth. after a time they came upon new tribes of indians, and as they went farther from the coast these people seemed more and more friendly. they treated the white men as if come from heaven,--brought them food, made them houses, carried every burden for them. some had bows, and went upon the hills for deer, and brought half a dozen every night for their guests; others killed hares and rabbits by arranging themselves in a circle and striking down the game with billets of wood as it ran from one to another through the woods. all this game was brought to the visitors to be breathed upon and blessed, and when this had to be done for several hundred people it became troublesome. the women also brought wild fruit, and would eat nothing till the guests had seen and touched it. if the visitors seemed offended, the natives were terrified, and apparently thought that they should die unless they had the favor of these wise and good men. farther on, people did not come out into the paths to gather round them, as the first had done, but stayed meekly in their houses, sitting with their faces turned to the wall, and with their property heaped in the middle of the room. from these people the travellers received many valuable skins, and other gifts. wherever there was a fountain, the natives readily showed it, but apparently knew nothing of any miraculous gift; yet they themselves were in such fine physical condition, and seemed so young and so active, that it was as if they had already bathed in some magic spring. they had wonderful endurance of heat and cold, and such health that, when their bodies were pierced through and through by arrows, they would recover rapidly from their wounds. these things convinced the spaniards that, even if the indians would not disclose the source of all their bodily freshness, it must, at any rate, lie somewhere in the neighborhood. yet a little while, no doubt, and their visitors would reach it. it was a strange journey for these gray and careworn men as they passed up the defiles and valleys along the st. john's river, beyond the spot where now spreads the city of jacksonville, and even up to the woods and springs about magnolia and green cove. yellow jasmines trailed their festoons above their heads; wild roses grew at their feet; the air was filled with the aromatic odors of pine or sweet bay; the long gray moss hung from the live-oak branches; birds and butterflies of wonderful hues fluttered around them; and strange lizards crossed their paths, or looked with dull and blinking eyes from the branches. they came, at last, to one spring which widened into a natural basin, and which was so deliciously aromatic that luis ponce said, on emerging: "it is enough. i have bathed in the fountain of youth, and henceforth i am young." his companions tried it, and said the same: "the fountain of youth is found." no time must now be lost in proclaiming the great discovery. they obtained a boat from the natives, who wept at parting with the white strangers whom they had so loved. in this boat they proposed to reach the mouth of the st. john, meet juan ponce de leon, and carry back the news to spain. but one native, whose wife and children they had cured, and who had grown angry at their refusal to stay longer, went down to the water's edge and, sending an arrow from his bow, transfixed don luis, so that even his foretaste of the fountain could not save him, and he died ere reaching the mouth of the river. if don luis ever reached what he sought, it was in another world. but those who have ever bathed in green cove spring, near magnolia, on the st. john's river, will be ready to testify that, had he but stayed there longer, he would have found something to recall his visions of the fountain of youth. notes preface a full account of the rediscovery of the canaries in will be found in major's "life of prince henry of portugal" (london, ), p. . for the statement as to the lingering belief in the jacquet island, see winsor's "columbus," p. . the extract from cowley is given by herman melville in his picturesque paper on "the encantadas" (_putnam's magazine_, iii. ). in harris's "voyages" ( ) there is a map giving "cowley's inchanted isl." (i. ), but there is no explanation of the name. the passage quoted by melville is not to be found in cowley's "voyage to magellanica and polynesia," given by harris in the same volume, and must be taken from cowley's "voyage round the globe," which i have not found in any library. i. atlantis for the original narrative of socrates, see plato's "timaeus" and "critias," in each of which it is given. for further information see the chapter on the geographical knowledge of the ancients by w. h. tillinghast, in winsor's "narrative and critical history of america," i. . he mentions (i. , note) a map printed at amsterdam in by kircher, which shows atlantis as a large island midway between spain and america. ignatius donnelly's "atlantis, the antediluvian world" (n. y. ), maintains that the evidence for the former existence of such an island is irresistible, and his work has been very widely read, although it is not highly esteemed by scholars. ii. taliessin the taliessin legend in its late form cannot be traced back beyond the end of the sixteenth century, but the account of the transformation is to be found in the "book of taliessin," a manuscript of the thirteenth century, preserved in the hengwt collection at peniarth. the welsh bard himself is supposed to have flourished in the sixth century. see alfred nutt in "the voyage of bram" (london, ), ii. . the traditions may be found in lady charlotte guest's translation of the "mabinogion," d ed., london, , p. . the poems may be found in the original welsh in skene's "four ancient books of wales," vols., edinburgh, ; and he also gives a facsimile of the manuscript. iii. children of lir the lovely legend of the children of lir or lear forms one of those three tales of the old irish bards which are known traditionally in ireland as "the three sorrows of story telling." it has been told in verse by aubrey de vere ("the foray of queen meave, and other legends," london, ), by john todhunter ("three irish bardic tales," london, ); and also in prose by various writers, among whom are professor eugene o'curry, whose version with the gaelic original was published in "atlantis," nos. vii. and viii.; gerald griffin in "the tales of a jury room"; and dr. patrick weston joyce in "ancient celtic romances" (london, ). the oldest manuscript copy of the tale in gaelic is one in the british museum, made in ; but there are more modern ones in different english and irish libraries, and the legend itself is of much older origin. professor o'curry, the highest authority, places its date before the year . ("lectures on the manuscript materials of irish history," p. .) iv. usheen in the original legend, oisin or usheen is supposed to have told his tale to st. patrick on his arrival in ireland; but as the ancient feni were idolaters, the hero bears but little goodwill to the saint. the celtic text of a late form of the legend ( ) with a version by brian o'looney will be found in the transactions of the ossianic society for (vol. iv. p. ); and still more modern and less literal renderings in p. w. joyce's "ancient celtic romances" (london, ), p. , and in w. b. yeats's "wanderings of oisin, and other poems" (london, ), p. . the last is in verse and is much the best. st. patrick, who takes part in it, regards niam as "a demon thing." see also the essays entitled "l'elysée transatlantique," by eugene beauvois, in the "revue de l'histoire des religions," vii. (paris, ), and "l'eden occidental" (same, vii. ). as to oisin or usheen's identity with ossian, see o'curry's "lectures on the manuscript materials for ancient irish history" (dublin, ), pp. , ; john rhys's "hibbert lectures" (london, ), p. . the latter thinks the hero identical with taliessin, as well as with ossian, and says that the word ossin means "a little fawn," from "os," "cervus." (see also o'curry, p. .) o'looney represents that it was a stone which usheen threw to show his strength, and joyce follows this view; but another writer in the same volume of the ossianic society transactions (p. ) makes it a bag of sand, and yeats follows this version. it is also to be added that the latter in later editions changes the spelling of his hero's name from oisin to usheen. v. bran the story of bran and his sister branwen may be found most fully given in lady charlotte guest's translation of the "mabinogion," ed. , pp. , . she considers harlech, whence bran came, to be a locality on the welsh seacoast still known by that name and called also branwen's tower. but rhys, a much higher authority, thinks that bran came really from the region of hades, and therefore from a distant island ("arthurian legend," p. , "hibbert lectures," pp. , ). the name of "the blessed" came from the legend of bran's having introduced christianity into ireland, as stated in one of the welsh triads. he was the father of caractacus, celebrated for his resistance to the roman conquest, and carried a prisoner to rome. another triad speaks of king arthur as having dug up bran's head, for the reason that he wished to hold england by his own strength; whence followed many disasters (guest, p. ). there were many welsh legends in regard to branwen or bronwen (white bosom), and what is supposed to be her grave, with an urn containing her ashes, may still be seen at a place called "ynys bronwen," or "the islet of bronwen," in anglesea. it was discovered and visited in (guest, p. ). the white mount in which bran's head was deposited is supposed to have been the tower of london, described by a welsh poet of the twelfth century as "the white eminence of london, a place of splendid fame" (guest, p. ). vi. the castle of the active door this legend is mainly taken from different parts of lady charlotte guest's translation of the "mabinogion," with some additions and modifications from rhys's "hibbert lectures" and "the arthurian legend." viii. merlin in later years merlin was known mainly by a series of remarkable prophecies which were attributed to him and were often said to be fulfilled by actual events in history. thus one of the many places where merlin's grave was said to be was drummelzion in tweeddale, scotland. on the east side of the churchyard a brook called the pansayl falls into the tweed, and there was this prophecy as to their union:-- "when tweed and pansayl join at merlin's grave, scotland and england shall one monarch have." sir walter scott tells us, in his "border minstrelsy," that on the day of the coronation of james vi. of scotland the tweed accordingly overflowed and joined the pansayl at the prophet's grave. it was also claimed by one of the witnesses at the trial of jeanne d'arc, that there was a prediction by merlin that france would be saved by a peasant girl from lorraine. these prophesies have been often reprinted, and have been translated into different languages, and there was published in london, in , "the life of merlin, surnamed ambrosius, his prophesies and predictions interpreted, and their truth made good by our english annals." another book was also published in london, in , called "merlin revived in a discourse of prophesies, predictions, and their remarkable accomplishments." viii. lancelot the main sources of information concerning lancelot are the "morte d'arthur," newell's "king arthur and the table round," and the publications of the early english text society. see also rhys's "arthurian legend," pp. , , etc. ix. the half-man the symbolical legend on which this tale is founded will be found in lady charlotte guest's translation of the "mabinogion" (london, ), ii. p. . it is an almost unique instance, in the imaginative literature of that period, of a direct and avowed allegory. there is often allegory, but it is usually contributed by modern interpreters, and would sometimes greatly astound the original fabulists. x. arthur the earliest mention of the island of avalon, or avilion, in connection with the death of arthur, is a slight one by the old english chronicler, geoffrey of monmouth (book xi. c. ), and the event is attributed by him to the year . wace's french romance was an enlargement of geoffrey; and the narrative of layamon (at the close of the twelfth century) an explanation of that of wace. layamon's account of the actual death of arthur, as quoted in the text, is to be found in the translation, a very literal one, by madden (madden's "layamon's brut," iii. pp. - ). the earliest description of the island itself is by an anonymous author known as "pseudo-gildas," supposed to be a thirteenth-century breton writer (meyer's "voyage of bram," i. p. ), and quoted by archbishop usher in his "british ecclesiastical antiquities" ( ), p. , who thus describes it in latin hexameters:-- "cingitur oceano memorabilis insula nullis desolata bonis: non fur, nec praedo, nec hostis insidiatur ibi: nec vis, nec bruma nec aestas, immoderata furit. pax et concordia, pubes ver manent aeternum. nec flos, nec lilia desunt, nec rosa, nec violae: flores et poma sub unâ fronde gerit pomus. habitant sine labe cruoris semper ibi juvenes cum virgine: nulla senectus, nulla vis morbi, nullus dolor; omnia plena laetitiae; nihil hic proprium, communia quaeque. regit virgo locis et rebus praesidet istis, virginibus stipata suis, pulcherrima pulchris; nympha decens vultu, generosis patribus orta, consilio pollens, medicinas nobilis arte. at simul arthurus regni diadema reliquit, substitutique sibi regem, se transtulit illic; anno quingeno quadragenoque secundo post incarnatum sine patris semine natum. immodicè laesus, arthurus tendit ad aulam regis avallonis; ubi virgo regia vulnus illius tractans, sanati membra reservat ipsa sibi: vivuntque simul; si credere fas est." a translation of this passage into rhyming english follows; both of these being taken from way's "fabliaux" (london, ), ii. pp. - . "by the main ocean's wave encompass'd, stands a memorable isle, fill'd with all good: no thief, no spoiler there, no wily foe with stratagem of wasteful war; no rage of heat intemperate, or of winter's cold; but spring, full blown, with peace and concord reigns: prime bliss of heart and season, fitliest join'd! flowers fail not there: the lily and the rose, with many a knot of fragrant violets bound; and, loftier, clustering down the bended boughs, blossom with fruit combin'd, rich apples hang. "beneath such mantling shades for ever dwell in virgin innocence and honour pure, damsels and youths, from age and sickness free, and ignorant of woe, and fraught with joy, in choice community of all things best. o'er these, and o'er the welfare of this land, girt with her maidens, fairest among fair, reigns a bright virgin sprung from generous sires, in counsel strong, and skill'd in med'cine's lore. of her (britannia's diadem consign'd to other brow), for his deep wound and wide great arthur sought relief: hither he sped (nigh two and forty and five hundred years since came the incarnate son to save mankind), and in avallon's princely hall repos'd. his wound the royal damsel search'd; she heal'd; and in this isle still holds him to herself in sweet society,--so fame say true!" xi. maelduin this narrative is taken partly from nutt's "voyage of bram" (i. ) and partly from joyce's "ancient celtic romances." the latter, however, allows maelduin sixty comrades instead of seventeen, which is nutt's version. there are copies of the original narrative in the erse language at the british museum, and in the library of trinity college, dublin. the voyage, which may have had some reality at its foundation, is supposed to have taken place about the year a.d. it belongs to the class known as imrama, or sea-expeditions. another of these is the voyage of st. brandan, and another is that of "the sons of o'corra." a poetical translation of this last has been made by t. d. sullivan of dublin, and published in his volume of poems. (joyce, p. xiii.) all these voyages illustrated the wider and wider space assigned on the atlantic ocean to the enchanted islands until they were finally identified, in some cases, with the continent which columbus found. xii. st. brandan the legend of st. brandan, which was very well known in the middle ages, was probably first written in latin prose near the end of the eleventh century, and is preserved in manuscript in many english libraries. an english metrical version, written probably about the beginning of the fourteenth century, is printed under the editorship of thomas wright in the publications of the percy society, london, (xiv.), and it is followed in the same volume by an english prose version of . a partial narrative in latin prose, with an english version, may be found in w. j. rees's "lives of the cambro-british saints" (llandovery, ), pp. , . the account of brandan in the acta sanctorum of the bollandists may be found under may , the work being arranged under saints' days. this account excludes the more legendary elements. the best sketch of the supposed island appears in the _nouvelles annales des voyages_ for (p. ), by d'avezac. professor o'curry places the date of the alleged voyage or voyages at about the year ("lectures on the manuscript materials for irish history," p. ). good accounts of the life in the great monasteries of brandan's period may be found in digby's "mores catholici" or "ages of faith"; in montalembert's "monks of the west" (translation); in villemarqué's "la legende celtique et la poésie des cloistres en irlande, en cambrie et en bretagne" (paris, ). the poem on st. brandan, stanzas from which are quoted in the text, is by denis florence mccarthy, and may be found in the _dublin university magazine_ (xxxi. p. ); and there is another poem on the subject--a very foolish burlesque--in the same magazine (lxxxix. p. ). matthew arnold's poem with the same title appeared in _fraser's magazine_ (lxii. p. ), and may be found in the author's collected works in the form quoted below. the legends of st. brandan, it will be observed, resemble so much the tales of sindbad the sailor and others in the "arabian nights"--which have also the island-whale, the singing birds, and other features--that it is impossible to doubt that some features of tradition were held in common with the arabs of spain. in later years (the twelfth century), a geographer named honoré d'autun declared, in his "image of the world," that there was in the ocean a certain island agreeable and fertile beyond all others, now unknown to men, once discovered by chance and then lost again, and that this island was the one which brandan had visited. in several early maps, before the time of columbus, the madeira islands appear as "the fortunate islands of st. brandan," and on the famous globe of martin behaim, made in the very year when columbus sailed, there is a large island much farther west than madeira, and near the equator, with an inscription saying that in the year , st. brandan arrived at this island and saw many wondrous things, returning to his own land afterwards. columbus heard this island mentioned at ferro, where men declared that they had seen it in the distance. later, the chart of ortelius, in the sixteenth century, carried it to the neighborhood of ireland; then it was carried south again, and was supposed all the time to change its place through enchantment, and when emanuel of portugal, in , renounced all claim to it, he described it as "the hidden island." in a portuguese expedition was sent which claimed actually to have touched the mysterious island, indeed to have found there the vast impression of a human foot--doubtless of the baptized giant mildus--and also a cross nailed to a tree, and three stones laid in a triangle for cooking food. departing hastily from the island, they left two sailors behind, but could never find the place again. again and again expeditions were sent out in search of st. brandan's island, usually from the canaries--one in by acosta, one in by dominguez; and several sketches of the island, as seen from a distance, were published in by a franciscan priest in the canary islands, named viere y clarijo, including one made by himself on may , , about a.m., in presence of more than forty witnesses. all these sketches depict the island as having its chief length from north to south, and formed of two unequal hills, the highest of these being at the north, they having between them a depression covered with trees. the fact that this resembles the general form of palma, one of the canary islands, has led to the belief that it may have been an ocean mirage, reproducing the image of that island, just as the legends themselves reproduce, here and there, the traditions of the "arabian nights." in a map drawn by the florentine physician, toscanelli, which was sent by him to columbus in to give his impression of the asiatic coast,-- lying, as he supposed, across the atlantic,--there appears the island of st. brandan. it is as large as all the azores or canary islands or cape de verde islands put together; its southern tip just touches the equator, and it lies about half-way between the cape de verde islands and zipangu or japan, which was then believed to lie on the other side of the atlantic. mr. winsor also tells us that the apparition of this island "sometimes came to sailors' eyes" as late as the last century (winsor's "columbus," ). he also gives a reproduction of toscanelli's map now lost, as far as can be inferred from descriptions (winsor, p. ). the following is matthew arnold's poem:-- saint brandan saint brandan sails the northern main; the brotherhoods of saints are glad. he greets them once, he sails again; so late!--such storms!--the saint is mad! he heard, across the howling seas, chime convent-bells on wintry nights; he saw, on spray-swept hebrides, twinkle the monastery lights; but north, still north, saint brandan steer'd-- and now no bells, no convents more! the hurtling polar lights are near'd, the sea without a human shore. at last--(it was the christmas-night; stars shone after a day of storm)-- he sees float past an iceberg white, and on it--christ!--a living form. that furtive mien, that scowling eye, of hair that red and tufted fell-- it is--oh, where shall brandan fly?-- the traitor judas, out of hell! palsied with terror, brandan sate; the moon was bright, the iceberg near. he hears a voice sigh humbly: "wait! by high permission i am here. "one moment wait, thou holy man! on earth my crime, my death, they knew; my name is under all men's ban-- ah, tell them of my respite, too! "tell them, one blessed christmas-night-- (it was the first after i came, breathing self-murder, frenzy, spite, to rue my guilt in endless flame)-- "i felt, as i in torment lay 'mid the souls plagued by heavenly power, an angel touch my arm and say: _go hence, and cool thyself an hour!_ "'ah, whence this mercy, lord?' i said; _the leper recollect_, said he, _who ask'd the passers-by for aid,_ _in joppa, and thy charity._ "then i remember'd how i went, in joppa, through the public street, one morn when the sirocco spent its storm of dust with burning heat; "and in the street a leper sate, shivering with fever, naked, old; sand raked his sores from heel to pate, the hot wind fever'd him five-fold. "he gazed upon me as i pass'd, and murmur'd: _help me, or i die!_-- to the poor wretch my cloak i cast, saw him look eased, and hurried by. "oh, brandan, think what grace divine, what blessing must full goodness shower, when fragment of it small, like mine, hath such inestimable power! "well-fed, well-clothed, well-friended, i did that chance act of good, that one! then went my way to kill and lie-- forgot my good as soon as done. "that germ of kindness, in the womb of mercy caught, did not expire; outlives my guilt, outlives my doom, and friends me in this pit of fire. "once every year, when carols wake on earth the christmas-night's repose, arising from the sinner's lake, i journey to these healing snows. "i stanch with ice my burning breast, with silence balm my whirling brain; o brandan! to this hour of rest that joppan leper's ease was pain." tears started to saint brandan's eyes; he bow'd his head, he breathed a prayer-- then look'd, and lo, the frosty skies! the iceberg, and no judas there! the island of st. brandan's was sometimes supposed to lie in the northern atlantic, sometimes farther south. it often appears as the fortunate isle or islands, "insulae fortunatae" or "beatae." on some early maps ( to ) there is an inlet on the western coast of ireland called "lacus fortunatus," which is filled with fortunate islands to the number of (humboldt, "examen," ii. p. ), and in one map of both these and the supposed st. brandan's group appear in different parts of the ocean under the same name. when the canary islands were discovered, they were supposed to be identical with st. brandan's, but the latter was afterwards supposed to lie southeast of them. after the discovery of the azores various expeditions were sent to search for st. brandan's until about . it was last reported as seen in . a full bibliography will be found in winsor's "narrative and critical history," i. p. , and also in humboldt's "examen," ii. p. , and early maps containing st. brandan's will be found in winsor (i. pp. , ). the first of these is pizigani's ( ), containing "ysolae dictae fortunatae," and the other that of ortelius ( ), containing "s. brandain." xiii. hy-brasail "the people of aran, with characteristic enthusiasm, fancy, that at certain periods, they see hy-brasail, elevated far to the west in their watery horizon. this has been the universal tradition of the ancient irish, who supposed that a great part of ireland had been swallowed by the sea, and that the sunken part often rose and was seen hanging in the horizon: such was the popular notion. the hy-brasail of the irish is evidently a part of the atlantis of plato; who, in his 'timaeus,' says that that island was totally swallowed up by a prodigious earthquake." (o'flaherty's "discourse on the history and antiquities of the southern islands of aran, lying off the west coast of ireland," , p. .) the name appeared first ( ) on the chart called the medicean portulana, applied to an island off the azores. in pizigani's map ( ) there appear three islands of this name, two off the azores and one off ireland. from this time the name appears constantly in maps, and in a man named john jay went out to discover the island on july , and returned unsuccessful on september . he called it barsyle or brasylle; and pedro d'ayalo, the spanish ambassador, says that such voyages were made for seven years "according to the fancies of the genoese, meaning sebastian cabot." humboldt thinks that the wood called brazil-wood was supposed to have come from it, as it was known before the south american brazil was discovered. a manuscript history of ireland, written about , in the library of the royal irish academy, says that hy-brasail was discovered by a captain rich, who saw its harbor but could never reach it. it is mentioned by jeremy taylor ("dissuasives from popery," ), and the present narrative is founded partly on an imaginary one, printed in a pamphlet in london, , and reprinted in hardiman's "irish minstrelsy" ( ), ii. p. . the french geographer royal, m. tassin, thinks that the island may have been identical with porcupine bank, once above water. in jeffrey's atlas ( ) it appears as "the imaginary island of o'brasil." "brazil rock" appears on a chart of purdy, (humboldt's "examen critique," ii. p. ). two rocks always associated with it, mayda and green rock, appear on an atlas issued in . see bibliography in winsor's "narrative and critical history," i. p. , where there are a number of maps depicting it (i. pp. - ). the name of the island is derived by celtic scholars from _breas_, large, and _i_, island; or, according to o'brien's "irish dictionary," its other form of o'brasile means a large imaginary island (hardiman's "irish minstrelsy," i. p. ). there are several families named brazil in county waterford, ireland ("transactions of the ossianic society, dublin," , i. p. ). the following poem about the island, by gerald griffin, will be found in sparling's "irish minstrelsy" ( ), p. :-- hy-brasail, the isle of the blest on the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell a shadowy land has appeared, as they tell; men thought it a region of sunshine and rest, and they called it hy-brasail, the isle of the blest. from year unto year on the ocean's blue rim, the beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim; the golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay, and it looked like an eden away, far away! a peasant who heard of the wonderful tale, in the breeze of the orient loosened his sail; from ara, the holy, he turned to the west, for though ara was holy, hy-brasail was blest. he heard not the voices that called from the shore-- he heard not the rising wind's menacing roar; home, kindred, and safety he left on that day, and he sped to hy-brasail, away, far away! morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle, o'er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile; noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before; lone evening came down on the wanderer's track, and to ara again he looked timidly back; o far on the verge of the ocean it lay, yet the isle of the blest was away, far away! rash dreamer, return! o ye winds of the main, bear him back to his own peaceful ara again, rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss, to barter thy calm life of labor and peace. the warning of reason was spoken in vain; he never revisited ara again! night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray, and he died on the waters, away, far away! xiv. island of satan's hand the early part of this narrative is founded on professor o'curry's lectures on the manuscript materials of irish history; it being another of those "imrama" or narratives of ocean expeditions to which the tale of st. brandan belongs. the original narrative lands the three brothers ultimately in spain, and it is a curious fact that most of what we know of the island of satanaxio or satanajio--which remained so long on the maps-- is taken from an italian narrative of three other brothers, cited by formaleoni, "il pellegrinaccio di tre giovanni," by christoforo armeno (gaffarel, "les iles fantastiques," p. ). the coincidence is so peculiar that it offered an irresistible temptation to link the two trios of brothers into one narrative and let the original voyagers do the work of exploration. the explanation given by gaffarel to the tale is the same that i have suggested as possible. he says in "iles fantastiques de l'atlantaque" (p. ), "s'il nous était permis d'aventurer une hypothèse, nous croirions voluntiers que les navigateurs de l'époque rencontrèrent, en s'aventurant dans l'atlantique, quelques-uns de ces gigantesques icebergs, ou montagnes de glace, arrachés aux banquises du pôle nord, et entraînés au sud par les courants, dont la rencontre, assez fréquente, est, même aujourd'hui, tellement redoutée par les capitaines. ces icebergs, quand ils se heurtent contre un navire, le coulent à pic; et comme ils arrivent à l'improviste, escortés par d'épais brouillards, ils paraissent réellement sortir du sein des flots, comme sortait la main de satan, pour précipiter au fond de l'abîme matelots et navires." as to the name itself there has been much discussion. on the map of bianco ( )-- reproduced in winsor, i. p. --the name "ya de lamansatanaxio" distinctly appears, and this was translated by both formaleoni and humboldt as meaning "the island of the hand of satan." d'avezac was the first to suggest that the reference was to two separate islands, the one named "de la man" or "danman," and the other "satanaxio." he further suggests-- followed by gaffarel--that the name of the island may originally have been san atanagio, thus making its baptism a tribute to st. athanasius instead of to satan. this would certainly have been a curious transformation, and almost as unexpected in its way as the original conversion of the sinful brothers from outlaws to missionaries. xv. antillia the name antillia appears first, but not very clearly, on the pizigani map of ; then clearly on a map of , preserved at weimar, on that of bianco in , and on the globe of beheim in , which adds in an inscription the story of the seven bishops. on some maps of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there appears near it a smaller island under the name of sette cidade, or sete ciudades, which is properly another name for the same island. toscanelli, in his famous letter to columbus, recommended antillia as a good way-station for his voyage to india. the island is said by tradition to have been re-discovered by a portuguese sailor in . tradition says that this sailor went hastily to the court of portugal to announce the discovery, but was blamed for not having remained longer, and so fled. it was supposed to be "a large, rectangular island extending from north to south, lying in the mid atlantic about lat. n." an ample bibliography will be found in winsor's "narrative and critical history," i. p. , with maps containing antillia, i. pp. (pizigani's), , . after the discovery of america, peter martyr states (in ) that hispaniola and the adjacent islands were "antillae insulae," meaning that they were identical with the group surrounding the fabled antillia (winsor's "narrative and critical history," i. p. ); and schöner, in the dedicatory letter of his globe of , says that the king of castile, through columbus, has discovered _antiglias hispaniam cubam quoque_. it was thus that the name antilles came to be applied to the islands discovered by columbus; just as the name brazil was transferred from an imaginary island to the new continent, and the name seven cities was applied to the pueblos of new mexico by those who discovered them. (see j. h. simpson, "coronado's march in search of the seven cities of cibola," smithsonian institution, , pp. - .) the sailor who re-discovered them said that the chief desire of the people was to know whether the moors still held spain (gaffarel, "iles fantastiques," p. ). in a copy of "ptolemy" addressed to pope urban vi. about , before the alleged visit of the portuguese, it was stated of the people at antillia that they lived in a christian manner, and were most prosperous, "hie populus christianissime vivit, omnibus divitiis seculi hujus plenus" (d'avezac, "nouvelles annales des voyages," , ii. p. ). it was afterwards held by some that the island of antillia was identical with st. michael in the azores, where a certain cluster of stone huts still bears the name of seven cities, and the same name is associated with a small lake by which they stand. (humboldt's "examen critique," paris, , ii. p. ; gaffarel, "iles fantastiques," p. .) xvi. harald the viking the tales of the norse explorations of america are now accessible in many forms, the most convenient of these being in the edition of e. l. slafter, published by the prince society. as to the habits of the vikings, the most accessible authorities are "the age of the vikings," by du chaillu, and "the sea kings of norway," by laing. the writings of the late professor e. n. horsford are well known, but his opinions are not yet generally accepted by students. his last work, "leif's house in vineland," with his daughter's supplementary essay on "graves of the northmen," is probably the most interesting of the series (boston, ). in longfellow's "saga of king olaf" (ii.), included in "tales of a wayside inn," there is a description of the athletic sports practised by the vikings, which are moreover described with the greatest minuteness by du chaillu. xvii. norumbega the narrative of champlain's effort to find norumbega in may be found in otis's "voyages of champlain" (ii. p. ), and there is another version in the _magazine of american history_ (i. p. ). the whole legend of the city is well analyzed in the same magazine (i. p. ) by dr. de costa under the title "the lost city of new england." in another volume he recurs to the subject (ix. p. ), and gives (ix. p. ) a printed copy of david ingram's narrative, from the original in the bodleian library. he also discusses the subject in winsor's "narrative and critical history" (iv. p. , etc.), where he points out that "the insular character of the norumbega region is not purely imaginary, but is based on the fact that the penobscot region affords a continued watercourse to the st. lawrence, which was travelled by the maine indians." ramusio's map of represents "nurumbega" as a large island, well defined (winsor, iv. p. ); and so does that of ruscelli (winsor, iv. p. ), the latter spelling it "nurumberg." some geographers supposed it to extend as far as florida. the name was also given to a river (probably the penobscot) and to a cape. the following is longfellow's poem on the voyage of sir humphrey gilbert:-- sir humphrey gilbert southward with fleet of ice sailed the corsair death; wild and fast blew the blast, and the east-wind was his breath. his lordly ships of ice glisten in the sun; on each side, like pennons wide, flashing crystal streamlets run. his sails of white sea-mist dripped with silver rain; but where he passed there were cast leaden shadows o'er the main. eastward from campobello sir humphrey gilbert sailed; three days or more seaward he bore, then, alas! the land-wind failed. alas! the land-wind failed, and ice-cold grew the night; and nevermore, on sea or shore, should sir humphrey see the light. he sat upon the deck, the book was in his hand; "do not fear! heaven is as near," he said, "by water as by land!" in the first watch of the night, without a signal's sound, out of the sea, mysteriously, the fleet of death rose all around. the moon and the evening star were hanging in the shrouds; every mast, as it passed, seemed to rake the passing clouds. they grappled with their prize, at midnight black and cold! as of a rock was the shock; heavily the ground-swell rolled. southward through day and dark, they drift in close embrace, with mist and rain, o'er the open main; yet there seems no change of place. southward, forever southward, they drift through dark and day; and like a dream, in the gulf-stream sinking, vanish all away. xviii. guardians of the st. lawrence for authorities for this tale see "voyages of samuel de champlain," translated by charles pomeroy otis, ph.d., with memoir by the rev. e. f. slafter, a.m., boston, (i. pp. , , ii. p. ). the incident of the disguised indians occurred, however, to the earlier explorer, jacques cartier. (see my "larger history of the united states," p. .) xix. island of demons the tale of the isle of demons is founded on a story told first by marguerite of navarre in her "heptameron" (lxvii. nouvelle), and then with much variation and amplification by the very untrustworthy traveller thevet in his "cosmographie" ( ), livre xxiii. c. vi. the only copy of the latter work known to me is in the carter-brown library at providence, r.i., and the passage has been transcribed for me through the kindness of a. e. winship, esq., librarian, who has also sent me a photograph of a woodcut representing the lonely woman shooting at a bear. a briefer abstract of the story is in winsor's "narrative and critical history" (iv. p. , note), but it states, perhaps erroneously, that thevet knew marguerite only through the princess of navarre, whereas that author claims--though his claim is never worth much--that he had the story from the poor woman herself, "_la pauvre femme estant arriuvee en france ... et venue en la ville de nautron, pays de perigort lors que i'y estois, me feit le discours de toutes ses fortunes passées_." the island of demons appears on many old maps which may be found engraved in winsor, iv. pp. , , , , , etc.; also as "isla de demonios" in sebastian cabot's map ( ) reprinted in dr. s. e. dawson's valuable "voyages of the cabots," in the transactions of the royal society of canada for . he also gives ruysch's map ( ), in which a cluster of islands appears in the same place, marked "insulae daemonum." harrisse, in his "notes sur la nouvelle france" (p. ), describes the three sufferers as having been abandoned by roberval _à trente six lieues des côtes de canada, dans une isle deserte qui fut depuis désignée sous le nom de l'isle de la demoiselle, pres de l'embouchure de la rivière st. paul ou des saumons_. i have not, however, been able to identify this island. parkman also says ("pioneers of france," p. ) that roberval's pilot, in his _routier_, or logbook, speaks often of "les isles de la demoiselle," evidently referring to marguerite. the brief account by the princess of navarre follows:-- lxvii nouvelle une pauvre femme, pour sauver la vie de son mary, hasarda la sienne, et ne l'abandonna jusqu'à la mort. c'est que faisant le diet robertval un voiage sur la mer, duquel il estoit chef par le commandement du roy son maistre, en l'isle de canadas; auquel lieu avoit délibéré, si l'air du païs euste esté commode, de demourer et faire villes et chasteaulx; en quoy il fit tel commencement, que chacun peut sçavoir. et, pour habituer le pays de chrestiens, mena avecq luy de toutes sortes d'artisans, entre lesquelz y avoit un homme, qui fut si malheureux, qu'il trahit son maistre et le mist en dangier d'estre prins des gens du pays. mais dieu voulut que son entreprinse fut si tost congneue, qu'elle ne peut nuyre au cappitaine robertval, lequel feit prendre ce meschant traistre, le voulant pugnir comme il l'avoit mérité; ce qui eust esté faict, sans sa femme qui avoit suivy son mary par les périlz de la mer; et ne le voulut abandonner à la mort, mais avecq force larmes feit tant, avecq le cappitaine et toute la compaignye, que, tant pour la pitié d'icelle que pour le service qu'elle leur avoit faict, luy accorda sa requeste qui fut telle, que le mary et la femme furent laissez en une petite isle, sur la mer, où il n'habitoit que bestes saulvaiges; et leur fut permis de porter avecq eulx ce dont ilz avoient nécessité. les pauvres gens, se trouvans tous seulz en la compaignye des bestes saulvaiges et cruelles, n'eurent recours que à dieu seul, qui avoit esté toujours le ferme espoir de ceste pauvre femme. et, comme celle qui avoit toute consolation en dieu, porta pour sa saulve garde, nourriture et consolation le nouveau testament, lequel elle lisoit incessamment. et, au demourant, avecq son mary, mettoit peine d'accoustrer un petit logis le mieulx qui'l leur estoit possible; et, quand les lyons et aultres bestes en aprochoient pour les dévorer, le mary avecq sa harquebuze, et elle, avecq les pierres, se défendoient si bien, que, non suellement les bestes ne les osoient approcher, mais bien souvent en tuèrent de très-bonnes à manger; ainsy, avecq telles chairs et les herbes du païs, vesquirent quelque temps, quand le pain leur fut failly. a la longue, le mary ne peut porter telle nourriture; et, à cause des eaues qu'ilz buvoient, devint si enflé, que en peu de temps il mourut, n'aiant service ne consolation que sa femme, laquelle le servoit de médecin et de confesseur; en sorte qu'il passa joieusement de ce désert en la céleste patrie. et la pauvre femme, demourée seulle, l'enterra le plus profond en terre qu'il fut possible; si est-ce que les bestes en eurent incontinent le sentyment, qui vindrent pour manger la charogne. mais la pauvre femme, en sa petite maisonnette, de coups de harquebuze défendoit que la chair de son mary n'eust tel sépulchre. ainsy vivant, quant au corps, de vie bestiale, et quant à l'esperit, de vie angélicque, passoit son temps en lectures, contemplations, prières et oraisons ayant un esperit joieux et content, dedans un corps emmaigry et demy mort. mais celluy qui n'abandonne jamais les siens, et qui, au désespoir des autres, monstre sa puissance, ne permist que la vertu qu'il avoit myse en ceste femme fust ignorée des hommes, mais voulut qu'elle fust congneue à sa gloire; et fiet que, au bout de quelque temps, un des navires de ceste armée passant devant ceste isle, les gens qui estoient dedans advisèrent, quelque fumée qui leur feit souvenir de ceulx qui y avoient esté laissez, et délibérèrent d'aller veoir ce que dieu en avoit faict. la pauvre femme, voiant approcher el navire, se tira au bort de la mer, auquel lieu la trouvèrent à leur arrivée. et, après en avoir rendu louange à dieu, les mena en sa pauvre maisonnette, et leur monstra de quoy elle vivoit durant sa demeure; ce que leur eust esté incroiable, sans la congnoissance qu'ilz avoient que dieu est puissant de nourrir en un désert ses serviteurs, comme au plus grandz festins du monde. et, ne pouvant demeurer en tel lieu, emmenèrent la pauvre femme avecq eulx droict à la rochelle, où, après un navigage, ilz arrivèrent. et quand ilz eurent faict entendre aux habitans la fidélité et persévérance de ceste femme, elle fut receue à grand honneur de toutes les dames, qui voluntiers luy baillèrent leurs filles pour aprendre à lire et à escripre. et, à cest honneste mestier-là, gaigna le surplus de sa vie, n'aiant autre désîr que d'exhorter un chaucun à l'amour et confiance de nostre seigneur, se proposant pour exemple la grande miséricorde dont il avoit usé envers elle. xx. bimini parkman says expressly that "ponce de léon found the island of bimini," but it is generally mentioned as having been imaginary, and is not clearly identified among the three thousand islands and rocks of the bahamas. peter martyr placed the fountain of youth in florida, which he may have easily supposed to be an island. some of the features of my description are taken from the strange voyage of cabeza da vaca, which may be read in buckingham smith's translation of his narrative (washington, d.c., ), or in a more condensed form in henry kingsley's "tales of old travel," or in my own "book of american explorers" (n.y., longmans, ). carleton's condensed classical dictionary. being brief but succinct information concerning the prominent names in classical history and mythology, together with the most conspicuous incidents associated with them. _carefully prepared and edited_ by george w. carleton, author of "our artist in cuba, peru, algiers and spain." "knowledge is of two kinds. we know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it."--_boswell's life of johnson._ new york copyright, , by _g. w. carleton & co., publishers_. madison square. mdccclxxxii. carleton's condensed classical dictionary. =aby´dos.= a city of asia opposite sestos in europe. it is famous for the loves of hero and leander, and for the bridge of boats which xerxes built there across the hellespont. leander was in the habit of swimming across the hellespont to see hero, till at length, on a stormy night, he was drowned. =aby´dos.= a town of egypt, where was the famous temple of osiris. =acade´mi´a.= a place surrounded with trees, near athens, belonging to academus, from whom the name is derived. here plato opened his school of philosophy, and from this every place sacred to learning has ever since been called academia. =acha´tes.= a friend of Æneas, whose fidelity was so exemplary that _fidus achates_ has become a proverb. =achelo´us.= the son of oceanus and terra, or tethys, god of the river of the same name in epirus. as one of the numerous suitors of dejanira, he entered the lists against hercules, and being inferior, changed himself into a serpent, and afterwards into an ox. hercules broke off one of his horns and defeated him, after which, according to some, he was changed into a river. =ac´heron.= one of the rivers of hell; often used to signify hell itself. =achil´les=, the son of peleus and thetis, was the bravest of all the greeks in the trojan war. during his infancy, thetis plunged him in the styx, thus making every part of his body invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. to prevent him from going to the trojan war, thetis sent him privately to the court of lycomedes, where he was disguised in a female dress. as troy could not be taken without his aid, ulysses went to the court of lycomedes in the habit of a merchant, and exposed jewels and arms for sale. achilles, choosing the arms, discovered his sex, and went to the war. vulcan made him a strong suit of armor, which was proof against all weapons. he was deprived by agamemnon of his favorite briseis, and for this affront he would not appear on the field till the death of patroclus impelled him to vengeance. he slew hector, who had killed patroclus, and tying his corpse to his war-car, dragged it three times round troy. he is said to have been killed by paris, who inflicted a mortal wound in his vulnerable heel with an arrow. =a´cis.= a shepherd of sicily, son of faunus and the nymph simæthis. galatea passionately loved him, upon which his rival, polyphemus, crushed him to death with a piece of broken rock. the gods changed acis into a stream, which rises from mount etna. =actæ´on.= a famous huntsman, son of aristæus and autonoe, daughter of cadmus. he saw diana and her attendants bathing, for which he was changed into a stag and devoured by his own dogs. =ac´tium.= a town and promontory of epirus, famous for the naval victory which augustus obtained over antony and cleopatra, b. c. . =a´des or hades.= the god of hell amongst the greeks; the same as the pluto of the latins. the word is often used for hell itself by the ancient poets. =adher´bal.= son of micipsa, and grandson of masinissa, was besieged at cirta, and put to death by jugurtha, after vainly imploring the aid of rome, b. c. . =adme´tus.= son of pheres and clymene, king of pheræ in thessaly. apollo, when banished from heaven, is said to have tended his flocks for nine years. =ado´nis=, son of cinyras and myrrha, was the favorite of venus. he was fond of hunting, and was often cautioned not to hunt wild beasts. this advice he slighted, and at last was mortally wounded by a wild boar. venus changed him into the flower anemone. proserpine is said to have restored him to life, on condition that he should spend six months of the year with her, and the rest of the year with venus. this implies the alternate return of summer and winter. =adras´tus=, son of talaus and lysimache, was king of argos. polynices, being banished from thebes by his brother eteocles, fled to argos, where he married argia, daughter of adrastus. the king assisted his son-in-law, and marched against thebes with an army. he was defeated with great slaughter, and fled to athens, where theseus gave him assistance, and was victorious. adrastus died from grief, occasioned by the death of his son Ægialeus. =adria´nus.= a famous emperor of rome. he is represented as an active, learned, warlike, and austere general. he came to britain, where he built a wall between the modern towns of carlisle and newcastle-on-tyne, to protect the britons from the incursions of the caledonians. =Ædi´les.= roman magistrates, who had the charge of all buildings, baths, and aqueducts, and examined weights and measures. the office of an Ædile was honorable, and the primary step to a more distinguished position in the state. =Ægeus.= king of athens, son of pandion. being desirous of having children, he went to consult the oracle, and on his return stopped at the court of pittheus, king of troezene, who gave him his daughter Æthra in marriage. he directed her, if she had a son, to send him to athens as soon as he could lift a stone under which he had concealed his sword. Æthra became mother of theseus, whom she sent to athens with his father's sword, Ægeus being at that time living with medea, the divorced wife of jason. when theseus came to athens, medea attempted to poison him, but he escaped; and upon showing Ægeus the sword, discovered himself to be his son. when theseus returned from crete, after the death of the minotaur, he omitted to hoist up white sails, as a signal of success, and at sight of black sails, Ægeus, concluding that his son was dead, threw himself into the sea, which, as some suppose, has since been called the Ægean sea. Ægeus died b. c. . =Ægis.= the shield of jupiter. he gave it to pallas, who placed medusa's head on it, which turned into stones all those who gazed at it. =Ægy´ptus=, son of belus, and brother to danaus, gave his fifty sons in marriage to the fifty daughters of his brother. danaus, who had established himself at argos, and was jealous of his brother, obliged all his daughters to murder their husbands on the first night of their nuptials. this was done, hypermnestra alone sparing her husband lynceus. Ægyptus himself was killed by his niece polyxena. =Ælia´nus clau´dius.= a roman sophist of præneste in the reign of adrian. he taught rhetoric at rome. he wrote treatises on animals in seventeen books, and on various other subjects in fourteen books. Ælian died at the age of sixty, a. d. . =Æne´as.= a trojan prince, son of anchises and venus. he married creusa, the daughter of priam, and they had a son named ascanius. during the trojan war Æneas behaved with great valor in defense of troy. when the city was in flames he is said to have carried away his father anchises on his shoulders, leading his son ascanius by the hand, his wife following them. subsequently he built a fleet of twenty ships, with which he set sail in quest of a settlement. he was driven on the coasts of africa, and was kindly received by dido, queen of carthage, who became enamored with him; but he left carthage by the order of the gods. he has been praised for his piety and his submission to the will of the gods; the term "pius" is generally appended to his name. =Æne´is.= the Æneid, a grand poem by virgil, the great merit of which is well known. the author has imitated the style of homer, and is by some thought to equal him. =Æolus=, the ruler of storms and winds, was the son of hippotas. he reigned over Æolia. he was the inventor of sails, and a great astronomer, from which the poets have called him the god of wind. =Æs´chines.= an athenian orator who lived about b.c.; and distinguished himself by his rivalship with demosthenes. =Æs´chylus=, a soldier and poet of athens, son of euphorion. he was in the athenian army at the battles of marathon, salamis, and platæa; but his most solid fame rests on his writings. he wrote ninety tragedies, forty of which were rewarded with a public prize. he was killed by the fall of a tortoise, dropped from the beak of an eagle on his head, b.c. . =Æscula´pius=, son of apollo and coronis, or, as some say, of apollo and larissa, daughter of phlegias, was the god of medicine. he married epione, and they had two sons, famous for their skill in medicine, machaon and podalirus; of their four daughters, hygeia, goddess of health, is the most celebrated. =Æson=, son of cretheus, was born at the same birth as pelias. he succeeded his father in the kingdom of iolchos, but was soon exiled by his brother. he married alcimeda, by whom he had jason, whose education he intrusted to chiron. when jason reached manhood he demanded his father's kingdom from his uncle, who gave him evasive answers, and persuaded him to go in quest of the golden fleece. on his return jason found his father very infirm, and at his request medea drew the blood from Æson's veins and refilled them with the juice of certain herbs, which restored the old man to the vigor of youth. =Æso´pus.= a phrygian philosopher who, originally a slave, procured his liberty by his genius. he dedicated his fables to his patron croesus. the fables which we have now under his name doubtless are a collection of fables and apologues of wits before and after the age of Æsop, conjointly with his own. =agamem´non=, king of mycenæ and argos, was brother to menelaus, and son of plisthenes, the son of atreus. he married clytemnestra, and menelaus helen, both daughters of tyndarus, king of sparta. when helen eloped with paris, agamemnon was elected commander-in-chief of the grecian forces invading troy. =agesila´us.= of the family of the proclidæ, son of archidamus, king of sparta, whom he succeeded. he made war against artaxerxes, king of persia, with success; but in the midst of his conquests he was called home to oppose the athenians and boetians. he passed over in thirty days that tract of country which had taken up a whole year of xerxes' expedition. he defeated his enemies at coronea, but sickness interfered with his conquests, and the spartans were beaten in every engagement till he again appeared at their head. he died years b.c. =agrip´pa, m. vipsanius.= a celebrated roman who obtained a victory over s. pompey, and favored the cause of augustus at the battles of actium and philippi, where he behaved with great valor. in his expeditions in gaul and germany he obtained several victories, but refused the honor of a triumph, and turned his attention to the embellishment of rome and the raising of magnificent buildings, among them the pantheon. augustus gave him his daughter julia in marriage. he died universally lamented at rome, aged fifty-one, b.c. . =agrip´pa.= a son of aristobulus, grandson of the great herod. he was popular with the jews, and it is said that while they were flattering him with the appellation of god he was struck with death, a.d. . his son of the same name was with titus at the siege of jerusalem, and died a.d. . it was before him that st. paul pleaded. there were a number of others of the same name, but of less celebrity. =a´jax=, son of telamon and periboea, or eriboea, was one of the bravest of the greeks in the trojan war. after the death of achilles, ajax and ulysses both claimed the arms of the dead hero, which were given to ulysses. some say that he was killed in battle by paris, but others record that he was murdered by ulysses. =alari´cus.= a famous king of the goths, who plundered rome in the reign of honorius. he was greatly respected for his valor, and during his reign he kept the roman empire in continual alarm. he died after a reign of twelve years, a.d. . he was buried in the bed of a river which had been turned from its course for the reception of his corpse, in order that it might be said that no one should tread on the earth where he reposed. =al´bion=, son of neptune and amphitrite, came into britain, where he established a kingdom, and introduced astrology and the art of building ships. great britain is called "albion" after him. =alcæ´us.= a celebrated lyric poet of mitylene, in lesbos, about years before the christian era. he fled from a battle, and the armor in which he left the field was hung up in the temple of minerva as a monument of his disgrace. he was enamored of sappho. of his works only a few fragments remain. =alces´te= or =alces´tis=, daughter of pelias, married admetus. she, with her sisters, put her father to death that he might be restored to youth and vigor by medea, who had promised to effect this by her enchantments. she, however, refused to fulfill her promise, on which the sisters fled to admetus, who married alceste. =alcibi´ades.= an athenian general, famous for his enterprise, versatile genius, and natural foibles. he was a disciple of socrates, whose lessons and example checked for a while his vicious propensities. in the peloponnesian war he encouraged the athenians to undertake an expedition against syracuse. he died in his forty-sixth year, b.c. . =alcme´na.= daughter of electrion, king of argos. her father promised her and his crown to amphitryon if he would revenge the death of his sons, who had been killed by the teleboans. in the absence of amphitryon, jupiter assumed his form and visited alcmena, who, believing the god to be her lover, received him with joy. amphitryon, on his return, ascertained from the prophet tiresias the deception which had been practiced. after the death of amphitryon alcmena married rhadamanthus. hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. =alcy´one= or =halcy´one=, daughter of Æolus, married ceyx, who was drowned as he was going to consult the oracle. the gods apprised alcyone in a dream of her husband's fate, and when she found his body washed ashore she threw herself into the sea, and she and her husband were changed into birds. =alec´to.= one of the furies. she is represented with her head covered with serpents, and breathing vengeance, war, and pestilence. =alexan´der=, surnamed the great, was son of philip and olympias. he was born b. c. , on the night on which the famous temple of diana at ephesus was burnt. this event, according to the magicians, was a prognostic of his future greatness, as well as the taming of bucephalus, a horse which none of the king's attendants could manage. philip, it is recorded, said, with tears in his eyes, that his son must seek another kingdom, as that of macedonia would not be large enough for him. he built a town, which he called alexandria, on the nile. his conquests were extended to india, where he fought with porus, a powerful king of the country, and after he had invaded scythia, he retired to babylon laden with spoils. his entry into the city was predicted by the magicians as to prove fatal to him. he died at babylon in his thirty-second year, after a reign of twelve years and eight months of continual success, b. c. . there were a number of others of the same name, but of less celebrity. =althæ´a=, daughter of thestius and eurythemis, married oeneus, king of calydon, by whom she had many children, amongst them being meleager. when he was born the parcæ put a log of wood on the fire, saying, as long as it was preserved the life of the child would be prolonged. the mother took the wood from the flames and preserved it, but when meleager killed his two uncles, althæa, to revenge them, threw the log in the fire, and when it was burnt meleager expired. althæa then killed herself. =amaryl´lis.= the name of a countrywoman in virgil's eclogues. some commentators have supposed that the poet spoke of rome under this fictitious name. =amaz´ones or amazonides.= a nation of famous women who lived near the river thermodon in cappadocia. all their lives were employed in wars and manly exercises. they founded an extensive empire in asia minor along the shores of the euxine. =ambra´cia.= a city of epirus, the residence of king pyrrhus. augustus, after the battle of actium, called it nicopolis. =amphiara´us=, son of oicleus and hypermnestra, was at the chase of the calydonian boar, and accompanied the argonauts in their expedition. he was famous for his knowledge of futurity. =amphic´tyon=, son of deucalion and pyrrha, reigned at athens after cranaus. some say the deluge happened in his age. =amphic´tyon=, the son of helenus, who first established the celebrated council of the amphictyons, composed of the wisest and most virtuous men of some cities of greece. =amphi´on=, son of jupiter and antiope. he cultivated poetry, and made such progress in music that he is said to have been the inventor of it, and to have built the walls of thebes by the sound of his lyre. =amphitri´te.= a daughter of oceanus and tethys, who married neptune. she is sometimes called salatia. she was mother of triton, a sea deity. =amphit´ryon.= a theban prince, son of alcæus and hipponome. his sister anaxo married electryon, king of mycenæ, whose sons were killed in battle by the teleboans. electryon gave his daughter alcmena to amphitryon for avenging the death of his sons. =anachar´sis=, a scythian philosopher years b. c., who, on account of his wisdom, temperance, and knowledge, has been called one of the seven wise men. he has rendered himself famous among the ancients by his writings, his poems on war, the laws of the scythians, etc. =anac´reon.= a famous lyric poet of teos, in ionia, favored by polycrates and hipparchus, son of philostratus. he was of intemperate habits and fond of pleasure. some of his odes are extant, and the elegance of his poetry has been the admiration of every age and country. he lived to the age of eighty-five, and after a life of voluptuousness was choked with a grape stone. he flourished b. c. . =anadyom´ene.= a famous painting by apelles of venus rising from the sea. =anaxag´oras.= a clazomenian philosopher, who disregarded wealth and honors to indulge his fondness for meditation and philosophy. he applied himself to astronomy, and obtained a knowledge of eclipses. he used to say he preferred a grain of wisdom to heaps of gold. he was accused of impiety and condemned to die, but he ridiculed the sentence, which he said had already been pronounced on him by nature. he died at the age of seventy-two, b. c. . =anaxar´ete.= a girl of salamis, who so arrogantly rejected the addresses of iphis, a youth of ignoble birth, that he hanged himself at her door. she saw the spectacle without emotion, and was changed into stone. =anchi´ses.= a son of capys and themis. he was so beautiful that venus came down from heaven on mount ida to enjoy his company. Æneas was the son of anchises and venus, and was intrusted to the care of chiron the centaur. when troy was taken, anchises had become so infirm that Æneas had to carry him through the flames upon his shoulders, and thus saved his life. =androm´ache.= daughter of eetion, king of thebes. she married hector, son of priam, and was the mother of astyanax. her parting with hector, who was going to battle, is described in the iliad, and has been deemed one of the most beautiful passages in that great work. pope's translation of the iliad (book ) describes with great pathos and beauty the parting of hector from his wife and child. =androm´eda.= a daughter of cepheus, king of Æthiopia, and cassiope. she was promised in marriage to phineus when neptune drowned the kingdom and sent a sea monster to ravage the country, because cassiope had boasted that she was fairer than juno and the nereides. the oracle of jupiter ammon was consulted, but nothing could stop the resentment of neptune except the exposure of andromeda to the sea monster. she was accordingly tied to a rock, but at the moment that the monster was about to devour her, perseus, returning from the conquest of the gorgons, saw her, and was captivated with her beauty. he changed the monster into a rock by showing medusa's head, and released andromeda and married her. =anthropoph´agi.= a people of scythia who fed on human flesh. they lived near the country of the messagetæ. shakspeare makes othello, in his speech to the senate, allude to the anthropophagi thus:-- "the cannibals that each other eat, the anthropophagi, and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders." =antig´one.= a daughter of oedipus, king of thebes. she buried by night her brother polynices, against the orders of creon, who ordered her to be buried alive. she, however, killed herself on hearing of the sentence. the death of antigone is the subject of one of the finest tragedies of sophocles. the play has been adapted for representation on the english stage, miss helen faucit performing the heroine with exquisite pathos. =antig´onus.= one of alexander's generals, who, on the division of the provinces after the king's death, received pamphylia, lycia, and phrygia. eventually his power became so great that ptolemy, seleucus, cassander, and lysimachus combined to destroy him. he gained many victories over them, but at last was killed in battle at the age of eighty, b.c. . there were others of the same name, but much less conspicuous. =antin´ous.= a youth of bithynia of whom the emperor adrian was so extremely fond that, at his death, he erected a temple to him, and wished it to be believed that he had been changed into a constellation. =anti´ochus=, surnamed _soter_, was son of seleucus and king of syria. he made a treaty of alliance with ptolemy philadelphus, king of egypt. he wedded his step-mother stratonice. he was succeeded by his son antiochus ii., who put an end to the war which had begun with ptolemy, and married his daughter berenice, but being already married to laodice, she, in revenge, poisoned him. antiochus, the third of that name, surnamed the great, was king of syria, and reigned thirty-six years. he was defeated by ptolemy philopater at raphia. he conquered the greater part of greece, and hannibal incited him to enter on a crusade against roma. he was killed years before the christian era. antiochus epiphanes, the fourth of the name, was king of syria after his brother seleucus. he behaved with cruelty to the jews. he reigned eleven years, and died unregretted. there were many others of the same name of less note. =ant´iope=, daughter of nycteus, king of thebes, and polyxo, was beloved by jupiter. amphion and tethus were her offspring. =antip´ater=, son of iolaus, was a soldier under king philip, and raised to the rank of a general under alexander the great. when alexander went to invade asia, he left antipater supreme governor of macedonia. he has been suspected of giving poison to alexander to advance himself in power. =antoni´nus=, surnamed _pius_, was adopted by the emperor adrian, whom he succeeded. he was remarkable for all the virtues forming a perfect statesman, philosopher, and king. he treated his subjects with affability and humanity, and listened with patience to every complaint brought before him. he died in his seventy-fifth year, after a reign of twenty-three years, a.d. . =anto´nius mar´cus.= mark antony, the triumvir, distinguished himself by his ambitious views. when julius cæsar was killed in the senate house, antony delivered an oration over his body, the eloquence of which is recorded in shakspeare's tragedy of julius cæsar. antony had married fulvia, whom he repudiated to marry octavia, the sister of augustus. he fought by the side of augustus at the battle of philippi, against the murderers of julius cæsar. subsequently he became enamored with cleopatra, the renowned queen of egypt, and repudiated octavia to marry her. he was utterly defeated at the battle of actium, and stabbed himself. he died in the fifty-sixth year of his age, b.c. . =anto´nius, ju´lius=, son of the famous triumvir antony, by fulvia, was consul with paulus fabius maximus. he was surnamed africanus, and put to death by order of augustus, but some say he killed himself. =anto´nius m. gni´pho.= a poet of gaul who taught rhetoric at rome. cicero and other illustrious men frequented his school. there were a number of others of the same name, but of less repute. =apel´les.= a celebrated painter of cos, or, as others say, of ephesus, son of pithius. he lived in the age of alexander the great, who forbade any one but apelles to paint his portrait. he was so absorbed in his profession that he never allowed a day to pass without employing himself at his art: hence the proverb of _nulla dies sine linea_. his most perfect picture was venus anadyomene, which was not quite finished when he died. he painted a picture in which a horse was a prominent feature, and so correctly was it delineated that a horse passing by it neighed, supposing it to be alive. he was ordered by alexander to paint a portrait of one of his favorites--campaspe. apelles became enamored with her and married her. he only put his name to three of his pictures--a sleeping venus, venus anadyomene, and an alexander. the proverb, _ne sutor ultra crepidam_, has been used in reference to him by some writers. =aphrodi´te.= the grecian name for venus, from the greek word [greek: aphros], _froth_, because venus is said to have been born from the froth of the ocean. =apic´ius.= a famous gourmand in rome. there were three of this name, all noted for their voracious appetites. =a´pis.= one of the ancient kings of peloponnesus, son of phoroneus and laodice. some say that apollo was his father, and that he was king of argos, whilst others called him king of sicyon, and fix the time of his reign above years earlier. varro and others have supposed that apis went to egypt with a colony of greeks, and that he civilized the inhabitants and polished their manners, for which they made him a god after death, and paid divine honors to him under the name of serapis. =a´pis.= a god of the egyptians, worshiped under the form of an ox. some say that isis and osiris are the deities worshiped under this name, because they taught the egyptians agriculture. =apol´lo.= son of jupiter and latona; called also phoebus. he was the god of the fine arts and the reputed originator of music, poetry, and eloquence. he had received from jupiter the power of knowing futurity, and his oracles were in repute everywhere. as soon as he was born he destroyed with his arrows the serpent python, which juno had sent to persecute latona; hence he was called pythius. he was not the inventor of the lyre, as some have supposed, but it was given to him by mercury, who received in return the famous caduceus. he received the surnames of phoebus, delius, cynthius, pæan, delphicus, etc. he is in sculpture generally represented as a handsome young man with a bow in his hand, from which an arrow has just been discharged. =appia´nus.= an historian of alexandria, who flourished a.d. . his universal history, which consisted of twenty-four books, was a history of all the nations conquered by the romans. =ap´pius clau´dius.= a decemvir who obtained his power by force and oppression. he grossly insulted virginia, whom her father killed to save her from the power of the tyrant. =arca´dia.= a district of peloponnesus, which has been much extolled by the poets. it was famous for its mountains. the inhabitants were for the most part shepherds, who lived upon acorns. they were skillful warriors and able musicians. pan lived chiefly among them. =archil´ochus.= a poet of paros, who wrote elegies, satires, odes, and epigrams. he lived b.c. . =archime´des.= a famous geometrician of syracuse, who invented a machine of glass that represented the motion of the heavenly bodies. when marcellus, the roman consul, besieged syracuse, archimedes constructed machines which suddenly raised into the air the ships of the enemy, which then fell into the sea and were sunk. he also set fire to the ships with burning-glasses. when the enemy were in possession of the town, a soldier, not knowing who he was, killed him, b.c. . =arethu´sa=, a nymph of elis, daughter of oceanus, and one of diana's attendants. as she returned one day from hunting she bathed in the alpheus stream. the god of the river was enamored of her, and pursued her over the mountains, till arethusa, ready to sink from fatigue, implored diana to change her into a fountain, which the goddess did. =ar´go.= the name of the famous ship which carried jason and his companions to polchis, when they went to recover the golden fleece. =argonau´tæ.= the argonauts, those ancient heroes who went with jason in the argo to aolchis to recover the golden fleece, about seventy-nine years before the capture of troy. the number of the argonauts is not exactly known. =ar´gus.= a son of arestor, whence he is sometimes called arestorides. he had a hundred eyes, of which only two were asleep at one time. juno set him to watch io, whom jupiter had changed into a heifer, but mercury, by order of jupiter, slew him, by lulling all his eyes to sleep with the notes of the lyre. juno put the eyes of argus in the tail of the peacock, a bird sacred to her. =ariad´ne=, daughter of minos, second king of crete, and pasiphæ, fell in love with theseus, who was shut up in the labyrinth to be devoured by the minotaur. she gave theseus a clue of thread by which he extricated himself from the windings of the labyrinth. after he had conquered the minotaur he married her, but after a time forsook her. on this, according to some authorities, she hanged herself. according to other writers, after being abandoned by theseus, bacchus loved her, and gave her a crown of seven stars, which were made a constellation. =ari´on.= a famous lyric poet and musician, son of cyclos of methymna in lesbos. he went into italy with periander, tyrant of corinth, where he gained much wealth by his profession. afterwards he wished to revisit the place of his nativity, and he embarked in a ship, the sailors of which resolved to kill him for the riches he had with him. arion entreated them to listen to his music, and as soon as he had finished playing he threw himself into the sea. a number of dolphins had been attracted by the sweetness of his music, and it is said that one of them carried him safely on its back to tænarus, whence he went to the court of periander, who ordered all the sailors to be crucified. =aristæ´us.= son of apollo and cyrene, famous for his fondness for hunting. he married autonoe, the daughter of cadmus, actæon being their son. he was after death worshiped as a demigod. =aristar´chus.= a celebrated grammarian of samos, disciple of aristophanes. he lived the greatest part of his life at alexandria. he wrote about commentaries on different authors. he died in his seventy-second year, b.c. . =aristi´des.= a celebrated athenian, son of lysimachus, in the age of themistocles, whose great temperance and virtue procured for him the name of the "just." he was rival to themistocles, by whose influence he was banished for ten years, b.c. . he was at the battle of salamis, and was appointed to be chief commander with pausanias against mardonius, whom they defeated at platæa. =aristip´pus=, the elder, a philosopher of cyrene, a disciple of socrates, and founder of the cyrenaic sect. =aristogi´ton= and =harmo´dis=. two celebrated friends of athens, who, by their joint efforts, delivered their country from the tyranny of the pisistratidæ, b.c. . =aristoph´anes.= a celebrated comic poet of athens, son of philip of rhodes. he wrote fifty-four comedies, of which eleven have come down to us. he lived b.c. , and lashed the vices of the age with a masterly hand. =aristot´eles.= a famous philosopher, son of nicomachus, born at stagira. he went to athens to hear plato's lectures, where he soon signalized himself by his genius. he has been called by plato the philosopher of truth, and cicero complimented him for his eloquence, fecundity of thought, and universal knowledge. he died in his sixty-third year, b.c. . as he expired he is said to have exclaimed: _causa causarum miserere mei_, which sentence has since become famous, and is by some attributed to cicero. the term stagirite has been applied to aristotle from the name of his birthplace. =artaxerx´es= the first succeeded to the kingdom of persia after xerxes. he made war against the bactrians, and reconquered egypt, which had revolted. he was remarkable for his equity and moderation. =artaxerx´es= the second. king of persia, surnamed mnemon. his brother cyrus endeavored to make himself king in his place, and marched against his brother at the head of , barbarians and , greeks. he was opposed by artaxerxes with a large army, and a bloody battle was fought at cunaxa, in which cyrus was killed and his forces routed. =ar´temis.= the greek name of diana. her festivals, called artemesia, were celebrated in several parts of greece, particularly at delphi. =asca´nius=, son of Æneas and creusa, was saved from the flames of troy by his father, whom he accompanied in his voyage to italy. he was afterwards called iulus. =aspa´sia.= daughter of axiochus, born at miletus. she came to athens, where she taught eloquence. socrates was one of her scholars. she so captivated pericles by her accomplishments that he made her his wife. the conduct of pericles and aspasia greatly corrupted the morals of the athenians, and caused much dissipation in the state. =aspa´sia.= a daughter of hermotimus of phocæa, famous for her personal charms. she was priestess of the sun, and became mistress to cyrus. =astar´te.= a powerful divinity of syria, the same as the venus of the greeks. she had a famous temple at hierapolis in syria, which was attended by priests. =astræ´a.= a daughter of astræus, king of arcadia, or, according to others, daughter of titan and aurora. some make her daughter of jupiter and themis. she was called justice, of which virtue she was the goddess. =asty´anax.= a son of hector and andromache. he was very young when the greeks besieged troy, and when the city was taken his mother saved him in her arms from the flames. according to euripides he was killed by menelaus. =atalan´ta.= daughter of schoeneus, king of scyros. according to some she was the daughter of jasus, or jasius, and clymene, but others say that menalion was her father. she determined to live in celibacy, but her beauty gained her many admirers, and to free herself from their importunities she proposed to run a race with them. as she was almost invincible in running, her suitors, who entered the lists against her, were defeated, till hippomenes, the son of macareus, proposed himself as an admirer. venus gave him three golden apples from the garden of the hesperides, and with these concealed about him he entered the lists to race against atalanta. as the race proceeded he dropped the apples, which she stopped to pick up, thus enabling hippomenes to arrive first at the goal, and obtain her in marriage. =a´te.= daughter of jupiter, and goddess of all evil. she raised such discord amongst the gods that jupiter banished her from heaven, and sent her to dwell on earth, where she incited mankind to evil thoughts and actions. =athana´sius.= a bishop of alexandria, celebrated for his determined opposition to arius and his doctrines. he died a.d. , after filling the archiepiscopal chair for forty-seven years. the famous creed which is named after him is no longer supposed to have been written by him, and its authorship remains in doubt. =at´las.= one of the titans, son of iapetus and clymene. he married pleione, daughter of oceanus (or of hesperis, according to some writers). he had seven daughters, who were called the atlantides. =a´treus.= a son of pelops and hippodamia, was king of mycenæ. his brother chrysippus was illegitimate, and hippodamia wished to get rid of him, and urged atreus and another of her sons, thyestes, to murder him, which, on their refusal, she did herself. atreus retired to the court of eurystheus, king of argos, and succeeded to his throne. =at´ticus, t. pomponius.= a celebrated roman knight, to whom cicero wrote a number of letters, containing the general history of the age. he retired to athens, where he endeared himself to the citizens, who erected statues to him in commemoration of his virtues. he died at the age of seventy-seven, b.c. . =at´tila.= a celebrated king of the huns, who invaded the roman empire in the reign of valentinian, with an army of half a million of men. he laid waste the provinces, and marched on rome, but retreated on being paid a large sum of money. he called himself the "scourge of god," and died a.d. , of an effusion of blood, on the night of his marriage. =angus´tus, octavia´nus cæ´sar=, emperor of rome, was son of octavius, a senator, and accia, sister to julius cæsar. he was associated in the triumvirate with antony and lepidus, and defeated the armies of brutus and cassius at philippi. octavia, the sister of augustus, married antony after the death of his wife fulvia. octavia, however, was slighted for the charms of cleopatra, which incensed augustus, who took up arms to avenge the wrongs of his sister, and at the great battle of actium (b.c. ), the forces of antony and cleopatra suffered a disastrous defeat. =aurelia´nus=, emperor of rome, was austere and cruel in the execution of the laws, and in his treatment of his soldiers. he was famous for his military character, and his expedition against zenobia, queen of palmyra, gained him great honors. it is said that in his various battles he killed men with his own hand. he was assassinated near byzantium, a.d. . =aure´lius, m. antoni´nus=, surnamed "the philosopher," possessed all the virtues which should adorn the character of a prince. he raised to the imperial dignity his brother l. verus, whose dissipation and voluptuousness were as conspicuous as the moderation of the philosopher. during their reign the quadi, parthians, and marcomanni were defeated. verus died of apoplexy, and antoninus survived him eight years, dying in his sixty-first year, after a reign of nineteen years and ten days. =auro´ra.= a goddess, daughter of hyperion and thia or thea. she is generally represented by the poets as sitting in a chariot and opening with her fingers the gates of the east, pouring dew on the earth, and making the flowers grow. the greeks call her eos. =bac´chus= was son of jupiter and semele, the daughter of cadmus. he was the god of wine, and is generally represented crowned with vine leaves. he is said to have married ariadne after she had been forsaken by theseus. =belisa´rius.= a celebrated general who, in the reign of justinian, emperor of constantinople, renewed the victories which had rendered the first romans so distinguished. he died, after a life of glory, suffering from royal ingratitude, years before the christian era. =beller´ophon=, son of glaucus, king of ephyre, and eurymede; was at first called hipponous. he was sent by iobates, king of lycia, to conquer the monster chimæra. minerva assisted him in the expedition, and by the aid of the winged horse pegasus he conquered the monster and returned victorious. after sending him on other dangerous adventures, iobates gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him successor to his throne. =bello´na=, goddess of war, was daughter of phorcys and ceto; called by the greeks enyo, and is often confounded with minerva. she prepared the chariot of mars when he was going to war, and appeared in battles armed with a whip to animate the combatants, and holding a torch. =be´lus=, one of the most ancient kings of babylon, about years before the age of semiramis, was made a god after death, and was worshiped by the assyrians and babylonians. he was supposed to be the son of the osiris of the egyptians. the temple of belus was the most ancient and magnificent in the world, and was said to have been originally the tower of babel. =bereni´ce.= a daughter of philadelphus, who married antiochus, king of syria, after he had divorced his former wife laodice. =bereni´ce.= the mother of agrippa, whose name occurs in the history of the jews as daughter-in-law of herod the great. a number of others of minor celebrity were known by the same name. =bi´on.= a philosopher of scythia who rendered himself famous for his knowledge of poetry, music, and philosophy. another of the same name was a greek poet of smyrna who wrote pastorals. he was a friend of moschus, who says that he died by poison about years b.c. =boadice´a.= a famous british queen who rebelled against the romans and was defeated, on which she poisoned herself. her cruel treatment by the romans is the subject of an ode by cowper. =bo´reas.= the name of the north wind blowing from the hyperborean mountains. according to the poets, he was son of astræus and aurora. he was passionately fond of hyacinthus. =bren´nus.= a general of the galli senones, who entered italy, defeated the romans, and marched into the city. the romans fled into the capitol, and left the city in possession of the enemy. the gauls climbed the tarpeian rock in the night, and would have taken the capitol had not the romans been awakened by the cackling of some geese, on which they roused themselves and repelled the enemy. =bri´a´reus.= a famous giant, son of coelus and terra. he had a hundred hands and fifty heads, and was called by men by the name of Ægeon. =bru´tus l. junius.= son of m. junius and tarquinia. when lucretia killed herself, b.c. , in consequence of the brutality of tarquin, brutus snatched the dagger from the wound and swore upon the reeking blade immortal hatred to the royal family, and made the people swear they would submit no longer to the kingly authority. his sons conspired to restore the tarquins, and were tried and condemned before their father, who himself attended their execution. mr. john howard payne, the american dramatist, has written a tragedy, of which brutus is the hero. =bru´tus, mar´cus ju´nius=, father of cæsar's murderer, followed the party of marius, and was conquered by pompey, by whose orders he was put to death. =bru´tus, mar´cus ju´nius=, the destroyer of cæsar, conspired with many of the most illustrious citizens of rome, against cæsar, and stabbed him in pompey's basilica. the tumult following the murder was great, but the conspirators fled to the capitol, and by proclaiming freedom and liberty to the populace, for the time established tranquillity. antony, however, soon obtained the popular ear, and the murderers were obliged to leave rome. brutus retired into greece, where he gained many friends. he was soon pursued by antony, who was accompanied by the young octavius. the famous battle of philippi followed, in which brutus and his friend cassius, who commanded the left wing of the army, were totally defeated. brutus fell on his own sword, b.c. , and was honored with a magnificent funeral by antony. plutarch relates that cæsar's ghost appeared to brutus in his tent before the battle of philippi, warning him of his approaching fall. =buceph´alus.= a horse of alexander's, so frequently named by writers that the term has become proverbial. alexander was the only person that could mount him, and he always knelt down for his master to bestride him. =ca´cus.= a famous robber, son of vulcan and medusa, represented as a three-headed monster vomiting flames. he resided in italy, and the avenues of his cave were covered with human bones. when hercules returned from the conquest of geryon, cacus stole some of his cows, which hercules discovering, he strangled cacus. =cad´mus=, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and telephassa, or agriope, was ordered by his father to go in quest of his sister europa, whom jupiter had carried away. his search proving fruitless, he consulted the oracle of apollo, and was told to build a city where he saw a heifer stop in the grass, and call the country around boeotia. he found the heifer, as indicated by the oracle. requiring water, he sent his companions to fetch some from a neighboring grove. the water was guarded by a dragon, who devoured those who were sent for it, and cadmus, tired of waiting, went himself to the place. he attacked the dragon and killed it, sowing its teeth in the ground, on which a number of armed men rose out of the earth. cadmus threw a stone amongst them, and they at once began fighting, and all were killed except five, who assisted him in building the city. cadmus introduced the use of letters in greece--the alphabet, as introduced by him, consisting of sixteen letters. =cadu´ceus.= a rod entwined at one end with two serpents. it was the attribute of mercury, and was given to him by apollo in exchange for the lyre. =cæ´sar.= a surname given to the julian family in rome. this name, after it had been dignified in the person of julius cæsar and his successors, was given to the apparent heir of the empire in the age of the roman emperors. the first twelve emperors were distinguished by the name of cæsar. they reigned in this order--julius cæsar, augustus, tiberius, caligula, claudius, nero, galba, otho, vitellius, vespasian, titus, and domitian. suetonius has written an exhaustive history of the cæsars. c. julius cæsar, the first emperor of rome, was son of l. cæsar and aurelia, the daughter of cotta. he was descended, according to some accounts, from julus, the son of Æneas. his eloquence procured him friends at rome, and the generous manner in which he lived equally served to promote his interest. he was appointed for five years over the gauls. here he enlarged the boundaries of the roman empire by conquest, and invaded britain, which till then was unknown to the romans. the corrupt state of the roman senate, and the ambition of cæsar and pompey, caused a civil war. neither of these celebrated romans would endure a superior, and the smallest matters were grounds enough for unsheathing the sword. by the influence of pompey a decree was passed to strip cæsar of his power. antony, as tribune, opposed this, and went to cæsar's camp with the news. on this cæsar crossed the rubicon, which was the boundary of his province. the passage of the rubicon was a declaration of war, and cæsar entered italy with his army. upon this pompey left rome and retired to dyrrachium, and cæsar shortly afterwards entered rome. he then went to spain, where he conquered the partisans of pompey, and on his return to rome was declared dictator, and soon afterwards consul. the two hostile generals met in the plains of pharsalia, and a great battle ensued b.c. . pompey was defeated and fled to egypt, where he was slain. at length cæsar's glory came to an end. enemies had sprung up around him, and a conspiracy, consisting of many influential romans, was formed against him. conspicuous among the conspirators was brutus, his most intimate friend, who, with others, assassinated him in the senate house in the ides of march, b.c. , in the fifty-sixth year of his age. he wrote his commentaries on the gallic wars when the battles were fought. this work is admired for its elegance and purity of style. it was after his conquest over pharnaces, king of pontus, that he made use of the words, which have since become proverbial, _veni, vidi, vici_, illustrative of the activity of his operations. shakspeare's tragedy of julius cæsar, in the third act of which he is assassinated, uttering as his last words, "_et tu, brute!_ then fall cæsar"--is devoted to the conspiracy and its results, ending with defeat and death of brutus and cassius at philippi. =calig´ula=, a roman emperor, was son of germanicus by agrippina. he was proud, wanton, and cruel. he was pleased when disasters befell his subjects, and often expressed a wish that the romans had but one head, that he might have the pleasure of striking it off. he had a favorite horse made consul, and adorned it with the most valuable trappings and ornaments. the tyrant was murdered a.d. , in his twenty-ninth year, after a reign of three years and ten months. =calli´ope.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne, who presided over eloquence and heroic poetry. =cal´ydon.= a city of Ætolia, where oeneus, the father of meleager, reigned. during the reign of oeneus diana sent a wild boar to ravage the country on account of the neglect which had been shown of her divinity by the king. all the princes of the age assembled to hunt the calydonian boar. meleager killed the animal, and gave the head to atalanta, of whom he was enamored. =calyp´so.= one of the oceanides, or one of the daughters of atlas, according to some writers. when ulysses was shipwrecked on her coasts she received him with hospitality, and offered him immortality if he would remain with her as a husband, which he refused to do, and after seven years' delay he was permitted to depart from the island where calypso reigned. =camby´ses=, king of persia, was the son of cyrus the great. he conquered egypt, and was so disgusted at the superstition of the egyptians, that he killed their god apis and plundered their temples. =camill´us, l. fu´rius.= a celebrated roman, called a second romulus from the services he rendered his country. he was banished for distributing the spoils he had obtained at veii. during his exile rome was besieged by the gauls under brennus. the besieged romans then elected him dictator, and he went to the relief of his country, which he delivered after it had been some time occupied by the enemy. he died b.c. . =cam´pus mar´tius.= a large plain without the walls of rome, where the roman youth were instructed in athletic exercises and learnt to throw the discus, hurl the javelin, etc. =can´næ.= a village of apuleia, where hannibal defeated the roman consuls Æmylius and varro, b.c. . =capitoli´num.= a celebrated temple and citadel at rome on the tarpeian rock. =caracal´la=, son of the emperor septimius severus, was notorious for his cruelties. he killed his brother geta in his mother's arms, and attempted to destroy the writings of aristotle. after a life made odious by his vices he was assassinated, a.d. , in the forty-third year of his age. =carac´tacus.= a king of the britons, who was conquered by the romans and taken prisoner to rome. =cartha´go.= carthage, a celebrated city of africa, the rival of rome, and for a long period the capital of the country, and mistress of spain, sicily, and sardinia. the time of its foundation is unknown, but it seems to be agreed on that it was built by dido about years before the christian era, or, according to some writers, or years before the foundation of rome. it had reached its highest glory in the days of hamilcar and hannibal. =cassan´der=, son of antipater, made himself master of macedonia after his father's death, where he reigned for eighteen years. =cassan´dra=, daughter of priam and hecuba, was passionately loved by apollo, who promised to grant her whatever she might require, and she obtained from him the power of seeing into futurity. some say she received the gift of prophecy, with her brother helenus, by being placed when young one night in the temple of apollo, where serpents were found wreathed round their bodies and licking their ears, which gave them a knowledge of futurity. she was allotted to agamemnon in the division of the spoils of troy, and was slain by clytemnestra, agamemnon's wife. =cas´sius c.= a celebrated roman who became famous by being first quæstor to crassus in his expedition against parthia. he married junia, the sister of brutus, and joined brutus in the conspiracy formed to assassinate cæsar, after which he returned to philippi with brutus, and commanded one wing of the army in the famous battle fought there. on the defeat of his forces he ordered one of his freedmen to kill him, and he perished by the sword which had inflicted a wound on cæsar. he was called by brutus "the last of all the romans." =casta´lius fons=, or =casta´lia=. a fountain of parnassus sacred to the muses. =castor= and =pollux= were twin brothers, sons of jupiter and leda. mercury carried them to pallena, where they were educated. as soon as they arrived at manhood they embarked with jason in quest of the golden fleece. in this expedition they evinced great courage. pollux defeated and slew amycus in the combat of the cestus, and was afterwards considered to be the god and patron of boxing and wrestling. castor distinguished himself in the management of horses. =catili´na, l. ser´gius=, a celebrated roman, descended from a noble family. when he had squandered his fortune he secretly meditated the ruin of his country, and conspired with many romans as dissolute as himself to extirpate the senate, plunder the treasuries, and set rome on fire. this plot, known as the catiline conspiracy, was unsuccessful. the history of it is written by sallust. catiline was killed in battle b.c. . =ca´to, mar´cus=, was great-grandson of the censor cato. the early virtues that appeared in his childhood seemed to promise that he would become a great man. he was austere in his morals and a strict follower of the tenets of the stoics. his fondness for candor was so great that his veracity became proverbial. in the catilinian conspiracy he supported cicero, and was the chief cause of the capital punishment which was inflicted on some of the conspirators. he stabbed himself after reading plato's treatise on the immortality of the soul, b.c. , in the fifty-ninth year of his age. =catul´lus c.=, or =q. vale´rius=. a poet of verona whose compositions are the offspring of a luxuriant imagination. he was acquainted with the most distinguished people of his age. he directed his satire against cæsar, whose only revenge was to invite him to a sumptuous banquet. =cel´sus=, a physician in the age of tiberius, who wrote eight books on medicine, besides treatises on agriculture, rhetoric, and military affairs. =centau´ri.= a people of thessaly, half men and half horses. they were the offspring of centaurus and stilbia. =centum´viri.= the members of a court of justice at rome. though originally in number, they were known as centumvirs, and this name they retained when they were increased to . =cer´berus.= a dog of pluto. according to hesiod he had fifty heads, but according to other mythologists he had three only. he was placed at the entrance to the infernal regions to prevent the living from entering, and the inhabitants of the place from escaping. =ce´res=, the goddess of corn and harvests, was daughter of saturn and vesta. she was the mother of proserpine, who was carried away by pluto whilst she was gathering flowers. =chærone´a=, a city of boeotia celebrated for a great battle fought there, in which the athenians were defeated by the boeotians, b.c. , and for the victory which philip of macedonia obtained there over the confederate armies of the thebans and athenians, b.c. . it was the birth-place of plutarch. =cha´ron.= a god of the infernal regions, son of nox and erebus, who conducted the souls of the dead in a boat over the rivers styx and acheron. =che´ops.= a king of egypt, after rhampsinitus, famous for building pyramids. =chimæ´ra.= a celebrated monster which continually vomited flames. it was destroyed by bellerophon. =chi´ron.= a centaur, half a man and half a horse, son of philyra and saturn. he was famous for his knowledge of music, medicine, and shooting, and taught mankind the use of plants and medicinal herbs. =chrysos´tom.= a bishop of constantinople who died a.d. . he was a great disciplinarian, and by severely lashing the vices of his age he made many enemies. =cic´ero, m. t.=, born at arpinum, was son of a roman knight and lineally descended from the ancient kings of the sabines. in youth he displayed many abilities, and was taught philosophy by philo, and law by mutius scævola. he applied himself with great diligence to the study of oratory, and was distinguished above all the speakers of his time in the roman forum. he signalized himself in opposing catiline, whom he publicly accused of treason against the state, and whom he drove from the city. after a number of vicissitudes of fortune he was assassinated, b.c. , at the age of sixty-three. =cincinna´tus, l. q.= a celebrated roman, who was informed, as he plowed in the fields, that the senate had chosen him to be dictator. on this he left the plow and repaired to the field of battle, where his countrymen were opposed by the volsci and Æqui. he conquered the enemy, and entered rome in triumph. =cir´ce.= a daughter of sol and perseis, celebrated for her knowledge of magic and venomous herbs. she was carried by her father to an island called Æaea. ulysses, on his return from the trojan war, visited her coasts, and his companions were changed, by her potions, into swine. ulysses, who was fortified against enchantments by an herb which he had received from mercury, demanded of circe the restoration of his companions to their former shape; she complied with his wishes, and eventually permitted him to depart from her island. =claudia´nus.= a celebrated poet, in the age of honorius, who is considered by some writers to equal virgil in the majestic character of his style. =clau´dius, t. drusus nero=, son of drusus, became emperor of rome after the death of caligula. he went to britain, and obtained a triumph for victories achieved by his generals. he suffered himself to be governed by favorites, whose avarice plundered the state and distracted the provinces. he was poisoned by agrippina, who wished to raise her son nero to the throne. =cleopa´tra=, queen of egypt, daughter of ptolemy auletes, was celebrated for her beauty. antony became enamored of her and married her, ignoring his connection with octavia, the sister of augustus. he gave her the greatest part of the eastern provinces of the roman empire. this caused a rupture between augustus and antony, and these two famous men met at actium, when cleopatra, by flying with sixty ships, ruined the battle for antony, and he was defeated. cleopatra destroyed herself by applying an asp to her breast. =cli´o.= the first of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over history. =cloaci´na.= a goddess at rome who presided over the cloacæ, which were large receptacles for the filth of the whole city. =clo´tho=, the youngest of the three parcæ, who were daughters of jupiter and themis, was supposed to preside over the moment of birth. she held the distaff in her hand and spun the thread of life. =clytemnes´tra.= a daughter of tyndarus, king of sparta, and leda, married agamemnon, king of argos, in whose absence in the trojan war she misconducted herself with his cousin Ægysthus. on the return of agamemnon clytemnestra murdered him, as well as cassandra, whom he had brought with him. after this clytemnestra ascended the throne of argos. in the meantime her son orestes, after an absence of seven years, returned, resolved to avenge the death of his father agamemnon. on an occasion when Ægysthus and clytemnestra repaired to the temple of apollo, orestes, with his friend pylades, killed them. =clyt´ia= or =clyt´ie=. a daughter of oceanus and tethys, beloved by apollo. she was changed into a sun-flower. =co´cles, p. horatius.= a celebrated roman who alone opposed the whole army of porsenna at the head of a bridge whilst his companions were cutting off the communication with the other shore. when the bridge was destroyed, cocles, though wounded by the darts of the enemy, leapt into the tiber and swam across it, armed as he was. for his heroism a brazen statue was raised to him in the temple of vulcan. =co´drus.= the last king of athens, son of melanthus. when the heraclidæ made war against athens, the oracle said that the victory would be granted to that nation whose king was killed in battle. the heraclidæ on hearing this gave orders to spare the life of codrus, but the patriotic king disguised himself, and engaging with one of the enemy, was killed. the athenians obtained the victory, and codrus was regarded as the savior of his country. =coe´lus= or =ura´nus=. an ancient deity supposed to be the father of saturn, oceanus, and hyperion. =col´chis= or =col´chos=. a country of asia famous for the expedition of the argonauts, and as being the birthplace of medea. =collati´nus, l. tarquinius.= a nephew of tarquin the proud. he married lucretia. he, with brutus, drove the tarquins from rome. =colos´sus.= a celebrated brazen image at rhodes, which was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world. =com´modus, l. aure´lius antoni´nus=, son of m. antoninus, succeeded his father in the roman empire. he was naturally cruel and fond of indulging his licentious propensities. desirous of being likened to hercules, he adorned his shoulders with a lion's skin, and carried a knotted club in his hand. he fought with the gladiators, and boasted of his skill in killing wild beasts in the amphitheatre. he was strangled by a wrestler in the thirty-first year of his age, a.d. . =co´mus.= the god of revelry, feasting, and nocturnal amusements. he is represented as a drunken young man with a torch in his hand. =concor´dia.= the goddess of peace and concord at rome, to whom camillus raised a temple in the capitol. =confu´cius.= a chinese philosopher, as much honored amongst his countrymen as if he had been a monarch. he died about years b.c. =co´non.= a famous general of athens, son of timotheus. he was made governor of all the islands of the athenians, and was defeated in a naval battle by lysander. he defeated the spartans near cnidos, when pisander, the enemy's admiral, was killed. he died in prison b.c. . =constan´tia.= a granddaughter of the great constantine, married the emperor gratian. =constanti´nus=, surnamed the great from the greatness of his exploits, was son of constantius. it is said that as he was going to fight against maxentius, one of his rivals, he saw a cross in the sky with the inscription, _in hoc vince_. from this he became a convert to christianity, ever after adopting a cross for his standard. he founded a city where old byzantium formerly stood, and called it constantinopolis. there he kept his court, and made it the rival of rome in population and magnificence. he died a.d. , after a reign of thirty-one years of the greatest glory. =constan´tius chlo´rus=, son of eutropius, and father of the great constantine. he obtained victories in britain and germany. he became the colleague of galerius on the abdication of dioclesian, and died a.d. , bearing the reputation of being brave, humane, and benevolent. =con´sul.= a magistrate at rome with real authority for the space of a year. there were two consuls, who were annually chosen in the campus martius. the first two were l. jun. brutus and l. tarquinius collatinus. =corin´na.= a celebrated woman of thebes, whose father was archelodorus. it is said that she obtained a poetical prize five times against the competitorship of pindar. =coriola´nus.= the surname of c. martius, from his victory over corioli. after a number of military exploits, and many services to his country, he was refused the consulship. he was banished, and went to the volsci, where he met with a gracious reception from tullus aufidius, whom he advised to make war against rome, marching with the volsci as general. his approach alarmed the romans, who sent his mother and his wife to meet him and appease his resentment against his countrymen, which with difficulty they succeeded in doing. =corne´lia.= a daughter of scipio africanus, famous for her learning and virtues, and as being the mother of the gracchi, tiberius and caius gracchus. her husband was t. sempronius gracchus. =cras´sus, m. licin´ius.= a celebrated roman, who by educating slaves and selling them, became very wealthy. he was made consul with pompey, and was afterwards censor, and formed one of the first triumvirate, his associates in it being pompey and cæsar. in the hope of enlarging his possessions he left rome, crossed the euphrates, and hastened to make himself master of parthia. he was met by surena, the parthian general, and in the battle which ensued , of the romans were killed and , made prisoners. crassus surrendered, and was put to death b.c. . =cre´on=, king of corinth, was son of sisyphus. he promised his daughter glauce to jason, who had repudiated medea. to revenge herself on her rival, medea sent her a present of a dress covered with poison. glauce put it on, and was seized with sudden pain. her body took fire, and she expired in the greatest agony. the house in which she was was also consumed, and creon and his family shared glauce's fate. =cre´on.= king of thebes, whose territories were ravaged by the sphinx. creon offered his crown to any one who would explain the enigmas proposed by the sphinx. oedipus solved the riddles, and ascended the throne of thebes. =croe´sus=, the fifth and last of the mermnadæ, who reigned in lydia, was the son of alyattes, and was considered the richest man in the world. his court was an asylum for learning, and Æsop, the famous fable writer, with other learned men, lived under his patronage. "as rich as croesus," has become a proverb. =cupi´do=, god of love, son of jupiter and venus, is represented as a winged infant, naked, armed with a bow and arrows. on gems and ornaments he is represented generally as amusing himself with some childish diversion. cupid, like the rest of the gods, assumed different shapes, and we find him in the Æneid putting on, at the request of his mother, the form of ascanius, and going to dido's court, where he inspired the queen with love. =cur´tius, m.= a roman who devoted himself to the service of his country, about years b.c., by leaping on horseback, and fully armed, into a huge gap in the earth, at the command of the oracle. =cyb´ele.= a goddess, daughter of coelus and terra, and wife of saturn. she was supposed to be the same as ceres, rhea, ops, vesta, etc. according to diodorus, she was the daughter of a lydian prince. on her birth she was exposed on a mountain, where she was tended and fed by wild beasts, receiving the name of cybele from the mountain where her life had been preserved. =cyclo´pes.= a race of men of gigantic stature, supposed to be the sons of coelus and terra. they had only one eye, which was in the center of the forehead. according to hesiod they were three in number, and named arges, brontes, and steropes. =cy´rus.= a king of persia, son of cambyses and mandane, daughter of astyages, king of media. xenophon has written the life of cyrus; and delineates him as a brave and virtuous prince, and often puts in his mouth many of the sayings of socrates. =cy´rus= the younger was the son of darius nothus, and the brother of artaxerxes, the latter succeeding to the throne at the death of nothus. cyrus was appointed to the command of lydia and the sea-coasts, where he fomented rebellion and levied troops under various pretenses. at length he took the field with an army of , barbarians and , greeks under the command of clearchus. artaxerxes met him with , men near cunaxa. the engagement ended fatally for cyrus, who was killed years b.c. =dæd´alus=, an athenian, was the most ingenious artist of his age; he was the inventor of the wedge and many other mechanical instruments. he made a famous labyrinth for minos, king of crete, but incurred the displeasure of minos, who ordered him to be confined in the labyrinth. here he made himself wings with feathers and wax, and fitted them to his body, adopting the same course with his son icarus, who was the companion of his confinement. they mounted into the air, but the heat of the sun melted the wax on the wings of icarus, and he fell into the ocean, which after him has been called the icarian sea. the father alighted safely at cumæ, where he built a temple to apollo. =dan´ae=, daughter of acrisius, king of argos, and eurydice. jupiter was enamored with her, and they had a son, with whom danae was exposed in a boat on the sea by her father. the winds carried them to the island of seriphus, where she was saved by some fishermen, and carried to polydectes, king of the place, whose brother, named dictys, educated the child, who was called perseus, and kindly treated the mother. =dana´ides.= the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who married the fifty sons of their uncle Ægyptus. danaus had been told by the oracle that he would be killed by a son-in-law, and he made his daughters promise to slay their husbands immediately after marriage. all of them fulfilled their father's wishes except one, hypermnestra, who spared her husband lynceus. =daph´ne.= a daughter of the river peneus, or of the ladon, and the goddess terra, of whom apollo became enamored. daphne fled to avoid the addresses of this god, and was changed into a laurel. =dar´danus.= a son of jupiter, who killed his brother jasius to obtain the kingdom of etruria. he built the city of dardania, and was reckoned to have been the founder of troy. =dari´us.= a noble satrap of persia, son of hystaspes, who usurped the crown of persia after the death of cambyses. darius was twenty-nine years old when he ascended the throne, and he soon distinguished himself by his military prowess. he besieged babylon, which he took after a siege of twenty months. he died b.c. . =dari´us=, the second king of persia of that name, ascended the throne of persia soon after the murder of xerxes. he carried on many wars with success, aided by his generals and his son cyrus the younger. he died b.c. , after a reign of nineteen years. =dari´us.= the third king of persia of that name. he soon had to take the field against alexander, who invaded persia. darius met him with an enormous army, which, however, was more remarkable for the luxuries indulged in by its leaders than for military courage. a battle was fought near the granicus, in which the persians were easily defeated, and another conflict followed near issus, equally fatal to the persians. darius escaped and assembled another powerful army. the last and decisive battle was fought at arbela, alexander being again victorious. when the fight was over darius was found in his chariot covered with wounds and expiring, b.c. . =dejani´ra.= a daughter of oeneus, king of Ætolia. her beauty procured her many admirers, and her father promised to give her in marriage to him who should excel in a competition of strength. hercules obtained the prize, and married dejanira. =del´phi.= a town of phocis, at the south-west side of mount parnassus. it was famous for a temple of apollo, and for an oracle celebrated in every age and country. =deme´trius.= a son of antigonus and stratonice, surnamed poliorcetes, _destroyer of towns_. at the age of twenty-two he was sent by his father against ptolemy, who had invaded syria. he was defeated at gaza, but soon afterwards obtained a victory. the greater part of his life was passed in warfare, his fortunes undergoing many changes. he was distinguished for his fondness of dissipation when in dissolute society, and for military skill and valor in the battle-field. he died b.c. . =deme´trius.= surnamed _soter_, king of syria. his father gave him as a hostage to the romans. after the death of his father, seleucus philopator, antiochus epiphanes usurped the throne of syria, and was succeeded by his son antiochus eupator. demetrius procured his liberty, and established himself on the throne, causing eupator to be put to death. =deme´trius.= son of soter, whom he succeeded after he had driven from the throne a usurper, alexander bala. demetrius gave himself up to luxury, and suffered his kingdom to be governed by his favorites, thus becoming odious to his subjects. he was at last killed by the governor of tyre, where he had fled for protection. =deme´trius phale´reus.= a disciple of theophrastus, who gained such influence over the athenians by his eloquence and the purity of his manners that he was elected decennial archon, b.c. . he embellished the city, and rendered himself popular by his munificence, but his enemies plotted against him, and he fled to the court of ptolemy lagus, where he was received with kindness. he put an end to his life by permitting an asp to bite him, b.c. . there were several others of the name of demetrius of minor note. =democ´ritus.= a celebrated philosopher of abdera, one of the disciples of leucippus. he travelled over the greatest part of europe, asia, and africa, in quest of knowledge, and returned home in the greatest poverty. he indulged in continual laughter at the follies of mankind for distracting themselves with care and anxiety in the short term of their lives. he told darius, who was inconsolable for the loss of his wife, that he would raise her from the dead if he could find three persons who had gone through life without adversity, whose names he might engrave on the queen's monument. he taught his disciples that the soul died with the body. he died in his th year, b.c. . he has been termed "the laughing philosopher." =demos´thenes.= a celebrated athenian, was son of a rich blacksmith and cleobule. he became pupil of plato, and applied himself to study the orations of isocrates. at the age of seventeen he gave early proof of his eloquence and abilities in displaying them against his guardians, from whom he obtained restitution of the greater part of his estate. to correct the stammering of voice under which he labored he spoke with pebbles in his mouth. in the battle of cheronæa he evinced cowardice, and saved his life by flight. he ended his life by taking poison, which he always carried in a quill, in the sixtieth year of his age, b.c. . =deuca´lion.= a son of prometheus, who married pyrrha, the daughter of epimetheus. he reigned over part of thessaly, and in his age the earth was covered by a deluge of water, sent by jupiter as a punishment for the impiety of mankind. deucalion constructed a ship, and by this means saved himself and pyrrha. the ship, after being tossed on the waves for nine days, rested on mount parnassus. the deluge of deucalion is supposed to have occurred b.c. . =dia´na.= the goddess of hunting. according to cicero there were three of the name--viz.: a daughter of jupiter and proserpine, a daughter of jupiter and latona, and a daughter of upis and glauce. the second is the most celebrated, and all mention of diana by ancient writers refers to her. to shun the society of men she devoted herself to hunting, and was always accompanied by a number of young women, who, like herself, abjured marriage. she is represented with a quiver, and attended by dogs. the most famous of her temples was that at ephesus, which was one of the wonders of the world. =dicta´tor.= a magistrate at rome, invested with regal authority. =di´do.= a daughter of belus, king of tyre, who married sichæus or sicharbus, her uncle, who was priest of hercules. pygmalion killed sichæsus to obtain his immense riches, and dido, disconsolate at the loss of her husband, set sail with a number of tyrians in quest of a place in which to form a settlement. a storm drove her fleet on the african coast, and she bought of the inhabitants as much land as could be covered by a bull's hide cut into thongs. on this land she built a citadel called byrsa, which was the nucleus of a great city. her subjects wished her to marry again, but she refused, and erected a funeral pile, on which she ascended and stabbed herself to death. =diocletia´nus, cai´us valer´ius jo´vius.= a celebrated roman emperor, born of an obscure family in dalmatia. he was first a common soldier, and by merit gradually rose to the position of a general, and at length he was invested with imperial power. he has been celebrated for his military virtues, and though he was naturally unpolished by education, yet he was the friend and patron of learning and genius. his cruelty, however, against the followers of christianity, has been severely reprobated. after reigning twenty-one years in great prosperity, he abdicated, a.d. , and died nine years afterwards, aged sixty-eight. =diodo´rus, sic´ulus.= celebrated as the author of a history of egypt, persia, syria, media, greece, rome and carthage. it was divided into forty books, of which only fifteen are extant, with a few fragments. =dio´genes.= a celebrated cynic philosopher of sinope, banished from his country for coining false money. from sinope he retired to athens, where he became the disciple of antisthenes, who was at the head of the cynics. he dressed himself in the garment which distinguished the cynics, and walked about the streets with a tub on his head, which served him as a house. his singularity, joined to his great contempt for riches, gained him reputation, and alexander the great visited the philosopher and asked him if there was anything in which he could oblige him. "get out of my sunshine," was the reply of the cynic. such independence pleased the monarch, who, turning to his courtiers, said, "were i not alexander, i would wish to be diogenes." he was once sold as a slave, and his magnanimity so pleased his master, that he made him the preceptor of his children and the guardian of his estates. he died, b.c. , in the ninety-sixth year of his age. the life of diogenes does not bear strict examination: whilst boasting of his poverty, he was so arrogant that it has been observed that his virtues arose from pride and vanity, not from wisdom or sound philosophy. =dio´genes laer´tius.= an epicurean philosopher, born in cilicia. he wrote the lives of the philosophers, in ten books. this work contains an accurate account of the ancient philosophers, and is replete with anecdotes respecting them. it is compiled, however, without any plan, method, or precision, though neatness and conciseness are observable in it. =diome´des=, a son of tydeus and deiphyle, was king of Ætolia, and one of the bravest of the grecian chiefs in the trojan war. he often engaged hector and Æneas, and obtained much military glory. =diome´des.= a king of thrace, son of mars and cyrene, who fed his horses with human flesh. hercules destroyed diomedes, and gave him to his own horses to be devoured. =di´on.= a syracusan, son of hipparina, famous for his power and abilities. he was related to dionysius the first, who constantly advised with him, and at whose court he obtained great popularity. he was assassinated years before the christian era by one of his familiar friends. his death was greatly lamented by the syracusans, who raised a monument to his memory. when dionysius the second ascended the throne he banished dion, who collected some forces, and in three days made himself master of syracuse. =di´on cas´sius.= a native of nicæa in bithynia, who was raised to some of the greatest offices of state in the roman empire. he is celebrated as the writer of a history of rome which occupied him twelve years in composing. =dionys´ius= the elder was son of hermocrates. he signalized himself in the wars which the syracusans carried on against carthage, and made himself absolute at syracuse. his tyranny rendered himself odious to his subjects. he made a subterraneous cave in a rock in the form of a human ear, which was called "the ear of dionysius." the sounds of this cave were all directed to one common tympanum, which had a communication with an adjoining room, where dionysius spent part of his time in listening to what was said by those whom he had imprisoned. he died in the sixty-third year of his age, b.c. , after a reign of thirty-eight years. =dionys´ius= the younger was son of dionysius the first and doris. he succeeded his father, and as soon as he ascended the throne he invited plato to his court and studied under him for some time. plato advised him to lay aside the supreme power, in which he was supported by dion. this highly incensed dionysius, who banished dion, who collected forces in greece, and in three days rendered himself master of syracuse, and expelled the tyrant, b.c. . he, however, recovered syracuse ten years afterward, but was soon compelled to retire again by the corinthians under timoleon. =dionys´ius= of halicarnassus. a historian who left his country and came to reside in rome that he might study all the authors who had written roman history. he was occupied during twenty-four years on his work on roman antiquities, which consisted of twenty books. =dir´ce.= a woman whom lycus, king of thebes, married after he had divorced antiope. amphion and zethus, sons of antiope, for cruelties she practiced on antiope, tied dirce to the tail of a wild bull, by which she was dragged over rocks and precipices till the gods pitied her and changed her into a fountain. =discor´dia.= a malevolent deity, daughter of nox, and sister to nemesis, the parcæ, and death. she was driven from heaven by jupiter because she sowed dissensions amongst the gods. at the nuptials of peleus and thetis she threw an apple amongst the gods, inscribed with the words, _detur pulchriori_, which was the primary cause of the ruin of troy, and of infinite misfortunes to the greeks. =dolabel´la, p. corn.= a roman who married the daughter of cicero. during the civil wars he warmly espoused the cause of julius cæsar, whom he accompanied at the famous battles of pharsalia and munda. =domitia´nus, ti´tus fla´vius=, son of vespasian and flavia domitilla, made himself emperer of rome on the death of his brother titus, whom, according to some accounts, he destroyed by poison. the beginning of his reign promised hopefully, but domitian became cruel, and gave way to vicious indulgences. in the latter part of his reign he became suspicious and remorseful. he was assassinated a.d. , in the forty-fifth year of his age. =dra´co.= a celebrated lawgiver of athens, who made a code of laws, b.c. , which, on account of their severity, were said to be written in letters of blood. hence the term "draconic," applied to any punishment of exceptional severity. =dru´sus.= a son of tiberius and vipsania, who became famous for his courage displayed in illyricum and pannonia. =dru´sus, m. liv´ius.= a celebrated roman, who renewed the proposals bearing on the agrarian laws, which had proved fatal to the gracchi. =dru´sus, ne´ro clau´dius.= a son of tiberius nero and livia. he distinguished himself in the wars in germany and gaul, and was honored with a triumph. there were other romans of the same name, but of smaller distinction. =dry´ades.= nymphs that presided over the woods. oblations of milk, oil, and honey were offered to them. sometimes the votaries of the dryads sacrificed a goat to them. =duum´viri.= two patricians at rome, first appointed by tarquin to keep the sibylline books, which were supposed to contain the fate of the roman empire. =ech´o.= a daughter of the air and tellus, who was one of juno's attendants. she was deprived of speech by juno, but was allowed to reply to questions put to her. =ege´ria.= a nymph of aricia in italy, where diana was particularly worshiped. egeria was courted by numa, and, according to ovid, became his wife. ovid says that she was disconsolate at the death of numa, and that she wept so violently that diana changed her into a fountain. =elec´tra.= a daughter of agamemnon, king of argos. she incited her brother orestes to revenge his father's death by assassinating his mother clytemnestra. her adventures and misfortunes form the subject of one of the finest of the tragedies of sophocles. =eleu´sinia.= a great festival observed by the lacedæmonians, cretans, and others, every fourth year, and by the people of athens every fifth year, at eleusis in attica, where it was introduced by eumolpus, b.c. . it was the most celebrated of all the religious ceremonies of greece. the term "mysteries" is often applied to it. the expression "eleusinian mysteries," as applied to anything that is inexplicable, has become proverbial. =elys´ium.= the elysian fields, a place in the infernal regions, where, according to the ancients, the souls of the virtuous existed after death. =emped´ocles.= a philosopher, poet, and historian of agrigentum in sicily, who lived b.c. he was a pythagorean, and warmly espoused the belief in the transmigration of souls. =endym´ion.= a shepherd, son of Æthlius and calyce. he is said to have required of jupiter that he might be always young. diana saw him as he slept on mount latmus, and was so struck with his beauty that she came down from heaven every night to visit him. =en´nius.= an ancient poet, born in calabria. he obtained the privileges of a roman citizen on account of his learning and genius. =e´os.= the name of aurora among the greeks. =epaminon´das.= a famous theban descended from the ancient kings of boeotia. at the head of the theban armies he defeated the spartans at the celebrated battle of leuctra about b.c. he was killed in battle in the forty-eighth year of his age. =eph´esus.= a city of ionia, famous for a temple of diana, which was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world. =epicte´tus.= a stoic philosopher of hieropolis, originally the slave of epaphroditus, the freedman of nero. he supported the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. =epicu´rus.= a celebrated philosopher, born in attica of obscure parents. he distinguished himself at school by the brilliancy of his genius. he taught that the happiness of mankind consisted in pleasure, which arises from mental enjoyment, and the sweets of virtue. his death occurred b.c., his age being seventy-two. =er´ato.= one of the muses. she presided over lyric poetry, and is represented as crowned with roses and myrtle, and holding a lyre in her hand. =er´ebus=, a deity of the infernal regions, son of chaos and darkness. the poets often use the word to signify the infernal regions. =ete´ocles.= a king of thebes, son of oedipus and jocasta. after his father's death it was agreed between him and his brother polynices that they should reign a year each alternately. eteocles first ascended the throne, but at the end of the year he refused to resign the crown. thus treated, polynices implored assistance from adrastus, king of argos, whose daughter he married, and who placed an army at his disposal. eteocles marshalled his forces, and several skirmishes took place between the hostile hosts, when it was agreed on that the brothers should decide the contest by single combat. they fought with inveterate fury, and both were killed. =eucli´des.= a famous mathematician of alexandria, who lived b.c. . he wrote fifteen books on the elements of mathematics. euclid was so much respected that king ptolemy became one of his pupils. =eu´menes.= a greek officer in the army of alexander. he was the most worthy of all alexander's generals to succeed him after his death. he conquered paphlagonia and cappadocia, of which he obtained the government, till the power of antigonus obliged him to retire. eventually, after many vicissitudes of fortune, he was put to death in prison by order of antigonus. =eumen´ides.= a name given to the furies. they sprang from the drops of blood which flowed from a wound which coelus received from saturn. according to some writers they were daughters of the earth, and sprung from the blood of saturn. others make them to be daughters of acheron and night, or pluto and proserpine. according to the generally received opinion they were three in number--tisiphone, megara, and alecto, to which some add nemesis. =euphor´bus.= a famous trojan. he wounded patroclus, whom hector killed. he died by the hand of menelaus. =euphra´tes.= a large river in asia which flowed through the middle of the city of babylon. =eurip´ides.= a celebrated tragic poet born at salamis. he studied eloquence under prodicus, ethics under socrates, and philosophy under anaxagoras. he often retired to a solitary cave, where he wrote his tragedies. it is said that he met his death by being attacked and torn in pieces by dogs, years before the christian era, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. he is accredited with the authorship of seventy-five tragedies, of which only nineteen are extant. one of his plays, "ion," has become familiarized in name to general readers by the exquisite play thus called written by the late judge talfourd, and first acted at covent garden theater, may , . =euro´pa.= a daughter of agenor, king of phoenicia, and telaphassa. her beauty attracted jupiter, and to become possessed of her he assumed the shape of a handsome bull, and mingled with the herds of agenor while europa was gathering flowers in the meadows. she caressed the animal, and mounted on his back. the god crossed the sea with her, and arrived in crete, where he assumed his proper form, and declared his love. she became mother of minos, sarpedon, and rhadamanthus. =euryd´ice.= the wife of the poet orpheus. as she fled from aristæus, who was enamored with her, she was bit by a serpent, and died of the wound. orpheus was disconsolate at her loss, and descended to the infernal regions in search of her, and by the melody of his lyre he obtained from pluto the restoration of eurydice, provided he did not look behind him till he reached the earth; but his eagerness to see his wife caused him to violate the conditions, and he looked behind him, thus losing eurydice forever. =euryd´ice.= wife of amyntas, king of macedonia. alexander, perdiccas, and philip were their sons, and they had a daughter named euryone. she conspired against amyntas, but was prevented from killing him by euryone. =eurys´thenes.= a son of aristodemus, who lived in perpetual dissension with his twin brother procles whilst they both sat on the spartan throne. the descendants of eurysthenes were called eurysthenidæ, and those of procles proclidæ. =eurys´theus.= a king of argos and mycenæ, son of sthenelus and nicippe. juno hastened his birth by two months that he might come into the world before hercules, the son of alcmena, as the younger of the two was doomed by jupiter to be subservient to the other. this natural right was cruelly exercised by eurystheus, who was jealous of the fame of hercules, and who, to destroy him, imposed upon him the most dangerous enterprises, known as the twelve labors of hercules, all of which were successfully accomplished. =euse´bius.= a bishop of cæsarea, in favor with the emperor constantine. he was mixed up in the theological disputes of arius and athanasius, and distinguished himself by writing an ecclesiastical history and other works. =euter´pe.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over music. =entro´pius.= a latin historian in the age of julian. he wrote an epitome of the history of rome from the age of romulus to the reign of the emperor valens. =fa´bii.= a noble and powerful family at rome. they fought with the veientes, and all of them were slain. one of the family, of tender age, remained in rome, and from him descended the family which afterwards became so distinguished. =fa´bius, max´imus rullia´nus=, was the first of the fabii who obtained the name of "maximus." he was master of the horse, and his victory over the samnites in that capacity nearly cost him his life. he was five times consul, twice dictator, and once censor. =fa´bius, q. max´imus.= a celebrated roman who was raised to the highest offices of state. in his first consulship he obtained a victory over liguria, and the battle of thrasymenus caused his election to the dictatorship. in this office he opposed hannibal, harassing him more by countermarches and ambuscades than by fighting in the open field. he died at the age of , after being consul five times. others of the family were of minor distinction, though their names occur in roman history. =fabric´ius, cai´us.= a distinguished roman, who in his first consulship obtained several victories over the samnites and lucanians. he had the most consummate knowledge of military matters, and was distinguished for the simplicity of his manners. =faler´nus.= a fertile mountain and plain of campania, famous for its wine. falernian wine was held in great esteem by the romans, and it is often alluded to by the poets. =fau´ni.= rural deities represented as having the legs, feet, and ears of goats, and the rest of the body human. =flac´cus.= a consul who marched against sylla and was assassinated. =flamin´ius, t. q.= a famous roman who was trained in the art of war against hannibal. he was sent in command of the roman troops against philip of macedonia, and met with great success. =flo´ra.= the goddess of flowers and gardens among the romans. she was the same as the chloris of the greeks. =fortu´na.= a powerful deity among the ancients, daughter of oceanus, according to homer, or one of the parcæ according to pindar. she was the goddess of fortune, and bestowed riches or poverty on mankind. =ful´via.= an ambitious woman, wife of the tribune clodius, afterwards of curio, and lastly of antony. antony divorced her for cleopatra. she attempted to avenge her wrongs by persuading augustus to take up arms against antony. =galatæ´a.= a sea nymph, daughter of nereus and doris. she was loved by polyphemus, the cyclops, whom she treated with disdain, while she was in love with acis, a shepherd of sicily. =gal´ba, ser´vius sulpi´cius.= a roman who rose to the greatest offices of the state, and exercised his powers with equity till he was seated on the throne, when his virtues disappeared. he was assassinated in the seventy-third year of his age. =gallie´nus, pub. licin´ius.= a son of the emperor valerian. he reigned conjointly with his father for seven years, and then became sole emperor, a.d. . in his youth he showed military ability in an expedition against the germans and sarmatæ, but when possessed of the purple he gave himself up to pleasure and vice. he was assassinated in his fiftieth year, a.d. . =gal´lus, corne´lius.= a roman knight famous for his poetical as well as his military talents. he was greatly attached to his slave lycoris (or cytheris), whose beauty he extolled in his poetry. =ganyme´des.= a beautiful youth of phrygia. he was taken to heaven by jupiter while tending flocks on mount ida, and he became the cupbearer of the gods in place of hebe. =gel´lius au´lus.= a roman grammarian in the age of m. antoninus. he wrote a work called "noctes atticæ," which he composed at athens. =german´icus cæ´sar.= a son of drusus and antonia, the niece of augustus. he was raised to the most important position in the state, and was employed in war in germany, where his successes obtained him a triumph. he was secretly poisoned, a.d. , in the thirty-fourth year of his age. he has been commended not only for his military talents but for his learning and humanity. =ge´ryon.= a monster, represented by the poets as having three bodies and three heads. it was killed by hercules. =gigan´tes.= the sons of coelus and terra, who, according to hesiod, sprang from the blood of a wound inflicted on coelus by his son saturn. they are represented as huge giants, with strength in accordance with their size. =glau´cus.= a son of hippolochus, the son of bellerophon. he aided priam in the trojan war, and was noted for his folly in exchanging his golden armor with diomedes for an iron one. =glau´cus.= a fisherman of boeotia. he observed that the fishes which he caught and laid on the grass became invigorated and leaped into the sea. he tasted the grass, and suddenly felt a desire to live in the sea. he was made a sea deity by oceanus and tethys. =glau´cus.= a son of minos the second and pasiphae, who was smothered in a cask of honey. the soothsayer polyidus, on being commanded by minos to find his son, discovered him, and by rubbing his body with a certain herb restored him to life. =gordia´nus, m. anto´nius africa´nus.= son of metius marcellus. he applied himself to poetry, and composed a poem in thirty books. he was sent as proconsul to africa, and subsequently, when he had attained his eightieth year, he was proclaimed emperor. he strangled himself at carthage a.d. , and was deeply lamented by the army and the people. =gordia´nus, m. anto´nius africa´nus=, son of gordianus, was made prefect of rome, and afterwards consul, by alexander severus. he was elected emperor in conjunction with his father. he was killed in a battle fought with maximinus in mauritania. =gordia´nus m. anto´nius pius=, was grandson of the first gordian. he was proclaimed emperor in the sixteenth year of his age. he married the daughter of misetheus, who was distinguished by his virtues, and to whom gordian intrusted many of the chief offices of the state. gordian conquered sapor, king of persia, and took many cities from him. he was assassinated a.d. . =gor´dius.= a phrygian who, from the position of a peasant, was raised to the throne consequent on a prediction of the oracle. the knot which tied the yoke to the draught-tree of his chariot was made so cunningly that the ends of the cord could not be seen, and a report arose that the empire of asia was promised by the oracle to him who should untie the gordian knot. alexander cut the knot with his sword. =gor´gones= (the gorgons). three sisters, daughters of phorcys and ceto, whose names were stheno, euryale, and medusa. they possessed the power of turning into stone those on whom they looked. perseus attacked them and cut off medusa's head, which he gave to minerva, who placed it on her ægis, which turned into stone those who fixed their eyes on it. =grac´chus, t. sempronius=, was twice consul and once censor. he married cornelia, of the family of the scipios, a woman of piety and learning. their children, tiberius and caius, rendered themselves famous for their obstinate attachment to the interests of the populace, which at last proved fatal to them. the gracchi stand out conspicuously in roman annals. the history of gaius gracchus has been dramatized by james sheridan knowles. it was one of his earliest efforts in dramatic literature, and has long been obsolete as an acting play. =gymna´sium.= a place among the greeks where all the public exercises were performed, and where not only dancers and wrestlers exhibited, but where poets and philosophers repeated their compositions. =ha´des=, see ades. =halicarnas´sus.= a maritime city in asia minor, where a mausoleum, one of the seven wonders of the world, was erected. it is celebrated as being the birthplace of herodotus, dionysius, and heraclitus. =hamadry´ades.= nymphs who lived in the country and presided over trees. =hamil´car.= a famous carthaginian, father of hannibal. he was engaged in sicily during the first punic war. he used to say of his three sons that he kept three lions to devour the roman power. =han´nibal.= a celebrated carthaginian general, son of hamilcar. while a child he took a solemn oath never to be at peace with rome. his passage of the alps with a great army was achieved by softening the rocks with fire and vinegar, so that even his armed elephants descended the mountains without difficulty. he defeated the romans in the great battle of cannæ, but was subsequently conquered by scipio at zama. he died by poison taken from a ring in which he kept it concealed. this occurred in his seventieth year, about years b.c. =harmo´dius.= a friend of aristogiton who assisted in delivering his country from the tyranny of the pisistratidæ. =harpy´læ.= the harpies, winged monsters who had the face of a woman, the body of a vulture, and feet and fingers armed with claws. they were three in number--aello, ocypete, and celeno. they were daughters of neptune and terra. =has´drubal.= a son of hamilcar, and brother of hannibal. he crossed the alps and entered italy, where he was defeated by the consuls, m. livius salinator and claudius nero. he was killed in the battle b.c. , and his head was sent to hannibal. one of the finest passages in professor nichol's tragedy of hannibal is the invocation over hasdrubal's head at the close of the play. =he´be.= a daughter of jupiter and juno. she was made cup-bearer to the gods, but was dismissed from the office by jupiter, because she fell down in a clumsy posture as she was pouring out nectar at a festival, and ganymedes succeeded her as cupbearer. =hec´ate.= a daughter of persus and asteria. she was called luna in heaven, diana on earth, and hecate or proserpine in hell. =hec´tor=, son of king priam and hecuba, was the most valiant of all the trojan chiefs who fought against the greeks. he married andromache, the daughter of eetion, astyanax being their son. hector was made chief of the trojan forces when troy was besieged by the greeks, and it is said that thirty-one of the most valiant greek chiefs were killed by him, but when he met achilles he fled. achilles pursued him, and hector was killed, and his body dragged in triumph at the chariot wheels of the conqueror. =hec´uba=, daughter of dymas, a phrygian prince, or, according to some, of cisseus, a thracian king, was the second wife of priam, king of troy. when her son paris was born, she exposed him on mount ida, hoping he would perish, as the soothsayers had predicted that he would be the ruin of his country. in the trojan war she saw most of her children perish. after enduring many misfortunes, she threw herself into the sea, and was drowned. =hel´ena.= one of the most beautiful women in the age in which she lived. her beauty was so universally admired, even in her infancy, that theseus, with his friend pirithous, carried her away when she was ten years of age and concealed her with his mother, but she was recovered by castor and pollux, and restored to her native country. she married menelaus, son of atreus, but when paris visited menelaus he persuaded her to fly with him to troy, b.c. . on this, menelaus sent ambassadors to the court of priam to demand her restitution, but in vain, and the result was the trojan war. when troy was taken she returned to menelaus, and after his death she retired to rhodes, where she was strangled by order of polyxo, who reigned there. her beauty and misfortunes have been a theme for the poets in all ages. =hel´icon.= a mountain of boeotia on the borders of phocis. it was sacred to the muses, who had a temple there. the fountain hippocrene flowed from this mountain. =heliogab´alus, m. aure´lius antoni´nus.= a roman emperor who had been priest to a divinity in phoenicia. under his sway rome became the scene of cruelty and vice. he raised his horse to the honors of consulship, and indulged in a number of absurdities which rendered him odious to his subjects. his head was cut off by his soldiers a.d. . =hel´le.= a daughter of athamas and nephele. she fled from her father's house to avoid the oppression of her mother-in-law ino. according to some accounts she was carried through the air on a golden ram, when, becoming giddy, she fell into the sea, which received from her the name hellespont. =hellespon´tus.= a narrow strait between europe and asia, which received its name from helle, who is said to have been drowned in it. it is celebrated as being the scene of the love and death of leander. =heracli´tus.= a celebrated greek philosopher of ephesus, who lived about years before the christian era. he received the appellation of the obscure philosopher and the mourner, from his custom of weeping at the follies and frailties of human life. =hercula´neum.= a town of campania swallowed up by an earthquake, produced by an eruption of mount vesuvius, a.d. . =her´cules.= a celebrated hero who, after death, was ranked among the gods. according to the ancients there were many persons of the same name, but the son of jupiter and alcmena, generally called the theban, is the most celebrated. the birth of hercules was attended with many miraculous events. before he was eight months old juno sent two snakes to devour him, which he seized, and crushed them to death. he achieved a series of enterprises known as the "twelve labors of hercules." these comprised the slaughter of the nemæan lion, the destruction of the lernæan hydra, the catching of a stag having golden horns and remarkable for his swiftness, the seizing alive a wild boar which committed great ravages, the cleansing of the stables of augias, the killing of the carnivorous birds near lake stymphalis, the taking captive a prodigious wild bull, the obtaining the mares of diomedes which fed on human flesh, the getting possession of the girdle of the queen of the amazons, the destruction of the monster geryon, the obtaining the apples from the garden of the hesperides, and the bringing to the earth the three-headed dog cerberus. besides these labors he aided the gods in their wars with the giants, and performed numerous difficult feats. he was conducted by mercury to omphale, queen of lydia, whom he married, and whom he permitted to dress in his armor while he was sitting to spin with her female servants. he delivered dejanira from the centaur nessus, whom he killed. the centaur, as he expired, gave dejanira a mystic tunic, which, in a jealous paroxysm, she gave to hercules to put on, which he had no sooner done than he was seized with a desperate distemper which was incurable. he erected a burning pile on mount Ætna, on which he cast himself. jupiter surrounded the burning pile with smoke, amidst which hercules, after his mortal parts were consumed, was carried to heaven in a chariot drawn by four horses. =her´mes.= a name of mercury among the greeks. =hermin´ius.= a valiant roman who defended the bridge with cocles against the army of porsenna. =hermi´one.= a daughter of mars and venus who married cadmus. she was changed into a serpent, and placed in the elysian fields. =hermi´one.= a daughter of menelaus and helen. she was privately promised in marriage to orestes, the son of agamemnon, but her father, ignorant of the engagement, gave her hand to pyrrhus, the son of achilles, whose services he had experienced in the trojan war. =hermip´pus.= a freedman, disciple of philo, in the reign of adrian, by whom he was greatly esteemed. he wrote five books on dreams. =hermoc´rates.= a general of syracuse, who was sent against the athenians. his lenity towards the athenian prisoners was regarded with suspicion. he was banished from sicily, and was murdered on his attempt to return to his country. =hermodo´rus.= a philosopher of ephesus who is said to have assisted, as interpreter, the roman decemvirs, in the composition of the ten tables of laws which had been collected in greece. =he´ro.= a beautiful girl of sestos, greatly beloved by leander, a youth of abydos. the lovers were greatly attached to each other, and often in the night leander swam across the hellespont to hero in sestos, till on one tempestuous night he was drowned, and hero in despair threw herself into the sea and perished. =hero´des=, surnamed the great, followed the fortunes of brutus and cassius, and afterwards those of antony. he was made king of judæa by the aid of antony, and after the battle of actium he was continued in power by submission to and flattery of augustus. he rendered himself odious by his cruelty, and as he knew his death would be a cause for rejoicing, he ordered a number of the most illustrious of his subjects to be confined and murdered directly he expired, that there might appear to be grief and shedding of tears for his own death. herod died in the seventieth year of his age, after a reign of years. =herod´otus.= a celebrated historian of halicarnassus. he ranks amongst historians as homer does amongst the poets and demosthenes amongst the orators. his great work is a history of the wars of the persians against the greeks, from the age of cyrus to the battle of mycale in the reign of xerxes; besides which it gives an account of many celebrated nations. a life of homer is attributed to his pen, though by some the authorship is doubted. =hesi´odus.= a celebrated poet, born at ascra in boeotia. he lived in the age of homer, and obtained a poetical prize in competition with him, according to varro and plutarch. quintilian, philostratus, and others, maintain that hesiod lived before the age of homer. hesiod, without possessing the sublimity of homer, is admired for the elegance of his diction. =hesi´one.= a daughter of laodemon, king of troy. it was her fate to be exposed to a sea-monster, to whom the trojans presented yearly a young girl to appease the resentment of apollo and neptune, whom laodemon had offended. hercules undertook to rescue her, and attacking the monster just as he was about to devour her, killed him with his club. =hesper´ides.= three nymphs, daughters of hesperus. apollodorus mentions four, Ægle, erythia, vesta and arethusa. they were appointed to guard the golden apples which juno gave to jupiter on the day of their marriage. the place where the hesperides lived was a celebrated garden, abounding with delicious fruit, and was guarded by a dragon which never slept. it was one of the labors of hercules to procure some of the golden apples, which he succeeded in doing after slaying the dragon. =hieron´ymus.= a tyrant of sicily, who succeeded to the throne when he was fifteen years old. he rendered himself odious by his cruelty and oppression. =hieron´ymus.= a christian writer, commonly called st. jerome. he was distinguished for his zeal against heretics. he wrote commentaries on the prophets, st. matthew's gospel, &c. he died a.d. , in his eightieth year. =hippar´chus.= a son of pisistratus, who succeeded his father, as tyrant of athens, with his brother hippias. he patronized some of the learned men of his age, and distinguished himself for his love of literature. =hippoc´rates.= a celebrated physician of cos. he delivered athens from a dreadful pestilence in the beginning of the peloponnesian war, for which he was rewarded with a golden crown. he died in his ninety-ninth year, b.c. . =hippocre´ne.= a fountain of boeotia, near mount helicon, sacred to the muses. it rose from the ground when struck by the feet of the horse pegasus. =hippodami´a.= a daughter of oenomaus, king of pisa, who married pelops, son of tantalus. her father would marry her only to some one who should conquer him in a chariot race. her beauty was great, and many were competitors for her hand, though the conditions involved death in case of defeat in the race. after thirteen suitors had been defeated, pelops entered the lists, and by bribing the charioteer of oenomaus, obtained the victory and married hippodamia. =hippol´yte.= a queen of the amazons, given in marriage to theseus by hercules. hippolytus was their son. =hippol´ytus.= son of theseus and hippolyte. his step-mother phædra fell in love with him. he fled to the sea-shore, where, his horses taking fright and rushing among the rocks, his chariot was broken in pieces, and he was killed. according to some accounts he was restored to life by diana. =hippo´nax.= a greek poet born at ephesus, years before the christian era. he cultivated satirical poetry, which was marked by its beauty and vigor. =home´rus.= a celebrated greek poet, the most ancient of all the profane writers. the age in which he lived is not known, though some suppose it to be about years after the trojan war. uncertainty prevails, also, as to the place of his nativity, seven cities claiming to be thus honored. these are smyrna, chios, colophon, salamis, rhodos, argos, and athenæ. in his two famous poems, the iliad and odyssey, he has displayed the most consummate knowledge of human nature, and rendered himself immortal by the sublimity and elegance of his poetry. in the iliad be gives a narrative of the siege of troy, and the odyssey deals with the wanderings of ulysses after the fall of the city. =hono´rius.= an emperor of the western empire of rome, who succeeded his father, theodosius the great. he conquered his enemies by the ability of his generals, and suffered his people to be governed by ministers who took advantage of his indolence and indifference. he died a.d. . =hora´tii.= three brave romans, born at the same time, who fought against the three curiatii about years before christ. at the beginning of the fight two of the horatii were killed, and the surviving one pretended to fly, thus separating his antagonists as they pursued him, and then, attacking them singly, he slew them all. =hora´tius q. flac´cus.= a celebrated poet born at venusia. his rising talents obtained the attention of virgil and varius, who recommended him to the care of mæcenas and augustus, the celebrated patrons of literature. under this fostering patronage horace gave himself up to indolence and pleasure. he was warm in his friendships, and if he at any time gave offense he was ready to make any concession to effect a reconciliation. in his satires and epistles he displays much wit and satirical humor. he died in his fifty-seventh year, b.c. . =hora´tius.= see =cocles=. =horten´sius, q.= a celebrated orator who began to distinguish himself in the roman forum when he was nineteen years old. cicero speaks eulogistically of his oratorical powers, and of his retentive memory. quintilian alludes to his orations in terms of high commendation. =hyacin´thus.= a son of amyclas and diomede, greatly beloved by apollo and zephyrus. he was accidentally killed by apollo, who changed his blood into a flower which bore his name. =hy´bla.= a mountain in sicily, famous for the odoriferous herbs which grew on it. it was famous for its honey. =hy´dra.= a celebrated monster which infested the neighborhood of lake lerna in peloponnesus. it was one of the labors of hercules to destroy the monster, which he effected with the aid of iolas. =hyge´ia.= the goddess of health, daughter of Æsculapius. she was held in great veneration among the ancients. =hymenæ´us= or =hy´men=, the god of marriage among the greeks, was the son of bacchus and venus, or, according to some, of apollo and one of the muses. =hymet´tus.= a mountain of attica, about two miles from athens, famous for its bees and honey. =hyperi´on.= a son of coelus and terra, who married thea. aurora was their daughter. hyperion is often used by the poets to signify the sun. also in "troilus and cressida" and other of shakspeare's plays, the same license is used. =hypermnes´tra.= one of the danaides, who were the fifty daughters of danaus. she was ordered by her father to murder her husband lynceus on the night of their marriage, which she refused to do. danaus wished to punish her for her disobedience, but afterwards forgave her, and left his kingdom at his death to lynceus. =hypsip´yle.= a queen of lemnos, daughter of thoas. during her reign, venus, whose altars had been slighted, punished the lemnian women by causing their husbands' affections to be estranged from them. this enraged the women, and they put to death their male relations, except in the case of hypsipyle, who spared her father thoas. =ic´arus.= a son of daedalus, who, with his father, took a winged flight from crete to escape the anger of minos. his flight was too high, and thus the sun melted the wax which cemented his wings, and he fell into the sea and was drowned. =idom´eneus= succeeded his father deucalion on the throne of crete, and accompanied the greeks to the trojan war, during which he rendered himself famous for his valor. on his voyage home, being caught in a great tempest, he vowed to neptune that if he escaped he would make an offering to the god of the first living creature he saw on his arrival at the cretan shore. he escaped the storm, and the first to meet him on his landing was his son. he performed his vow, and became so odious to his subjects that he had to leave his dominions. =igna´tius.= a bishop of antioch, torn to pieces by lions in the amphitheater at rome a.d. . his works consisted of letters to the ephesians, romans, etc. he zealously supported the doctrine of the divinity of christ. =i´lus=, fourth king of troy, was son of tros by callirrhoe. he married eurydice, the daughter of adrastus. he embellished the city of ilium, called also troy from his father tros. =i´no.= a daughter of cadmus and harmonia, who nursed bacchus. she married athamas, king of thebes, after he had divorced nephele. =i´o=, a daughter of inachus, was a priestess of juno at argos. juno changed her into a beautiful heifer, and eventually restored her to her own form. she was greatly persecuted by juno. she married telegonus, king of egypt, or osiris, according to others, and treated her subjects with such kindness that after death she received divine honors, and was worshiped under the name of isis. =i´olas= or =iola´us=. a son of iphiclus, king of thessaly, who assisted hercules in conquering the hydra; he burnt with a hot iron the place where the monster's heads had been cut off to prevent their re-growth. =iph´iclus.= a son of amphitryon and alcmena, twin brother of hercules. as the children were cradled together, juno, jealous of hercules, sent two large serpents to destroy him. at the sight of the snakes iphiclus showed great alarm, but hercules seized them, one in each hand, and squeezed them to death. =iphic´rates.= a celebrated general of athens, who, though son of a shoemaker, rose to the highest offices in the state. he made war against the thracians, and assisted the persian king against egypt. =iphigeni´a.= a daughter of agamemnon and clytemnestra. when the greeks, going to the trojan war, were detained at aulis by contrary winds, they were informed by a soothsayer that to appease the gods they must sacrifice iphigenia to diana. as the fatal knife was about to be plunged into her, iphigenia suddenly disappeared, and a goat of great beauty was found in the place where she had stood ready for the sacrifice. =iph´itus.= a son of eurytus, king of oechalia. when his father had promised his daughter iole to any one who could excel him or his sons in drawing the bow, hercules accepted the challenge and was victorious. eurytus, however, refused to fulfill the compact by giving his daughter to the conqueror. afterwards some oxen were stolen from eurytus, and iphitus was sent in quest of them. in his search he met hercules, who aided him in seeking the lost animals, but on recollecting the faithlessness of eurytus he killed iphitus. =irenæ´us.= a native of greece, disciple of polycarp, and bishop of lyons. he wrote on different subjects, and suffered martyrdom a.d. . =i´ris.= one of the oceanides, messenger of the gods, and more particularly of juno. her office was to cut the thread which seemed to detain the soul of those who were expiring. she is the same as the rainbow. =i´sis.= a celebrated deity of the egyptians, daughter of saturn and rhea, according to diodorus of sicily. some suppose her to be the same as io, who was changed into a cow, and restored to her human form in egypt, where she taught agriculture, and governed the people with mildness and equity, for which she received divine honors after her death. =isoc´rates.= a celebrated orator, son of a musical instrument maker at athens. he opened a school of eloquence at athens, where he was distinguished for the number, character, and fame of his pupils. he was intimate with philip of macedon, but the aspiring ambition of philip displeased isocrates, and the defeat of the athenians at chæronea had such an effect on him that he did not long survive it. he died, after being four days without taking any aliment, in his ninety-ninth year, about years b.c. he was honored after death by the erection of a brazen statue to his memory by timotheus, one of his pupils, and aphareus, his adopted son. milton, in one of his sonnets, speaks of him as "that old man eloquent" when alluding to his death as being caused by the news of the battle of chæronea. =i´tys.= a son of tereus, king of thrace, and procne, daughter of pandion, king of athens. he was killed by his mother when he was six years old, and served up to his father to be eaten by him. he was changed into a pheasant, his mother into a swallow, and his father into an owl. =ixi´on.= a king of thessaly, son of phlegias, or, according to hyginus, of leontes, or, according to diodorus, of antion and perimela. jupiter carried him to heaven and placed him at the table of the gods, where he became enamored with juno, which so incensed jupiter that he banished him from heaven, and ordered mercury to tie him to a wheel in hell, which continually whirled round, keeping ixion in perpetual torture. =ja´nus.= an ancient king who reigned in italy. he was a native of thessaly, and, according to some writers, a son of apollo. he built a town which he called janiculum. some authors make him to have been son of coelus and hecate. he is represented with two faces, because he was acquainted with the past and future. his temple was always open in time of war, and was shut when peace existed. =jap´etus.= a son of coelus or titan and terra, who married asia, or, according to some writers, clymene. the greeks looked on him as the father of all mankind. =ja´son.= a celebrated hero, son of Æson and alcimedes. his education was entrusted to the centaur chiron. the greatest feat recorded of him is his voyage in the argo to colchis to obtain the golden fleece, which, aided by juno, he succeeded in doing. medea, daughter of Ætes, king of colchis, fell in love with jason. she was a powerful magician, and on jason having vowed eternal fidelity to her, she gave him charms to protect him from danger. after securing the fleece, jason set sail from the country with his wife medea. after some years he became enamored with glauce, daughter of creon, king of corinth, whom he married, having divorced medea. this cruel act was revenged by medea, who destroyed her children in the presence of their father. jason is said to have been killed by a beam which fell on his head as he was reposing by the side of the ship which had borne him to colchis. =jocas´ta.= a daughter of menoeceus, who married laius, king of thebes, oedipus being their son. she afterwards married oedipus without knowing who he was, and on the discovery she hanged herself. by some mythologists she is called epicasta. =jose´phus, fla´vius.= a celebrated jew, born in jerusalem, who signalized himself in a siege conducted by vespasian and titus in a small town in judæa. he was present at the siege of jerusalem by titus, and received all the sacred books which it contained from the conqueror's hands. he wrote a history of the wars of the jews, in syriac, and afterwards translated it into greek. he also wrote a work, which he divided into twenty books, on jewish antiquities. he died a.d. , in his fifty-sixth year. =jovia´nus, fla´vius clau´dius.= a native of pannonia elected emperor of rome by the soldiers after the death of julian. he refused the purple at first, but on being assured that his subjects were favorably disposed towards christianity he accepted the crown. he died about seven months after assuming the supreme power, being found in bed suffocated by the vapors of charcoal which had been lighted in his room, a.d. . =ju´ba.= a king of numidia and mauritania who favored the cause of pompey against julius cæsar. he defeated curio, whom cæsar had sent to africa, and after the battle of pharsalia he joined his forces to those of scipio. he was conquered in a battle at thapsus, and killed himself. his kingdom became a roman province, of which sallust was the first governor. =ju´ba=, the second of that name, was led captive to rome to give lustre to the triumph of cæsar. he wrote a history of rome, which was often commended and quoted by the ancients. =jugur´tha.= a distinguished numidian who went with a body of troops to the assistance of scipio, who was besieging numantia. jugurtha endeared himself to the roman general by his bravery and activity. his uncle micipsa appointed him successor to the throne, with his two sons adherbal and hiempsal, the latter of whom was slain by jugurtha, and the former had to fly to rome for safety. cæcilius metellus was sent against jugurtha, who was betrayed and delivered into the hands of the romans. he died in prison b.c. . =ju´lia.= a daughter of julius cæsar and cornelia, famous for her virtues and personal charms. she was obliged by her father to divorce herself from her first husband to marry pompey the great, with the object of cementing the friendship between him and her father. =ju´lia.= daughter of augustus, remarkable for her beauty, genius, and vices. her father give her in marriage to marcellus, after whose death she united herself to agrippa, and again becoming a widow she married tiberius. her conduct now became so unseemly that she was banished to a small island on the coast of campania, where she was starved to death. =ju´lia.= a daughter of germanicus and agrippina, born at lesbos, a.d. . she married m. vinucius, a senator, when she was sixteen years old. she was banished on suspicion of conspiracy by her brother caligula. she was notorious for her licentious conduct, and was put to death when she was about twenty-four years of age. =ju´lia.= a celebrated woman born in phoenicia. she applied herself to the study of philosophy, and was conspicuous for her mental as well as her personal charms. she came to rome, where she married septimius severus, who was afterwards invested with the purple. she was also called domna. =julia´nus.= a son of julius constantius, the brother of constantine the great, born in constantinople. the massacre which attended the elevation of the sons of constantine to the throne nearly proved fatal to julian and his brother gallus. the two brothers were privately educated and taught the doctrines of the christian religion--which afterwards julian disavowed, and in consequence of this the term "apostate" is generally affixed to his name. he died, a.d. , in his thirty-second year. his last moments were spent in a conversation with a philosopher about the immortality of the soul. julian's character has been admired by some writers, but generally he is censured for his apostasy. =ju´no.= a celebrated deity among the ancients, daughter of saturn and ops. jupiter married her, and the nuptials were celebrated with the greatest solemnity in the presence of all the gods. by her marriage with jupiter, juno became the queen of all the gods, and mistress of heaven and earth. she presided over marriage, and patronized those of her sex who were distinguished for virtuous conduct. paris gave her great offense by giving the golden apple, as an award to beauty, to venus instead of herself. =ju´piter.= the chief of all the gods of the ancients. according to varro there were three hundred persons of that name. to him of crete, who passed for the son of saturn and ops, the actions of the rest have been attributed. jupiter was educated in a cave on mount ida, in crete, and fed with the milk of the goat amalthæa. while he was very young he made war on the titans, whom he conquered. the beginning of his reign in the supernal regions was interrupted by the rebellion of the giants, who were sons of the earth, and who were desirous of revenging the death of the titans, but by the aid of hercules, jupiter overpowered them. jupiter married metis, themis, ceres, euronyme, mnemosyne, latona, and juno. his worship was universal: he was the ammon of the africans, the belus of babylon, and the osiris of egypt. =juvena´lis, d. ju´nius.= a poet born at axuinum in italy. he came to rome at an early age, where he applied himself to the writing of satires, some of which are extant. he died in the reign of trajan, a.d. . his writings are distinguished by a lively style, but abound with ill humor. =labe´rius, j. dec´imus.= a roman knight famous for his skill in writing pantomimes. cæsar made him appear on the stage in one of his plays, which he resented by throwing out aspersions on cæsar during the performance, and by warning the audience against tyranny. =lach´esis.= one of the parcæ, or fates. she presided over futurity, and was represented as spinning the thread of life, or, according to some, as holding the spindle. =laer´tes.= a king of ithaca who married anticlea, daughter of autolycus. ulysses was their son, and succeeded him on the throne, laertes retiring to the country, and devoting his time to gardening, in which employment he was found by ulysses on his return from the trojan war, after twenty years´ absence. =la´gus.= a macedonian of mean extraction, who married arsinoe, daughter of meleager. on the birth of a child it was exposed in the woods by lagus, but an eagle preserved its life by feeding and sheltering it with her wings. the infant was afterwards known as king ptolemy the first of egypt. =la´is.= a woman of immoral character, daughter of timandra and alcibiades. diogenes, the cynic, was one of her admirers, and gained her heart. she went to thessaly, where the women, jealous of her charms, assassinated her. =laoc´oon.= a priest of apollo who in the trojan war was opposed to the admission of the wooden horse to the city. for this, as a punishment, two enormous serpents were sent to attack him, which they did whilst, accompanied by his two sons, he was offering a sacrifice to neptune. the serpents coiled round him and his sons, and crushed them to death. =laom´edon.= son of ilus, and king of troy. he married strymo, called by some placia or leucippe. podarces, afterwards known as priam, was their son. laomedon built the walls of troy, in which he was assisted by apollo and neptune. =lap´ithus.= a son of apollo and stilbe. he married orsinome, phorbas and periphas being their children, to whose numerous descendants was given the name lapithæ, a number of whom attended the nuptials of pirithous with hippodamia, the daughter of adrastus, king of argos. the centaurs also attended the festivity, and quarrelled with the lapithæ, which resulted in blows and slaughter. many of the centaurs were slain, and they were at last obliged to retire. =la´res.= gods of inferior power at rome, who presided over houses and families. they were two in number, sons of mercury and lara. =lati´nus.= a son of faunus and marica, king of the aborigines in italy, who from him were called latini. =lato´na.= a daughter of coeus, the titan, and phoebe. she was admired for her beauty by jupiter. juno made latona the object of her vengeance, and sent the serpent python to persecute her. =lean´der.= a youth of abydos. he was passionately in love with hero, a young girl of sestos. he was in the habit of swimming across the hellespont to visit her, in doing which, on a tempestuous night, he was drowned. lord byron performed the same feat in , an exploit which he has celebrated in verse in his occasional pieces. he expresses surprise that, as the truth of leander's story had been questioned, no one had hitherto tested its practicability. =le´da.= a daughter of king thespius and eurythemis, who married tyndarus, king of sparta. she is famous for her intrigue with jupiter. she brought forth two eggs, from one of which sprang pollux and helena, and from the other castor and clytemnestra. she is said to have received the name of nemesis after death. =lem´ures.= the manes of the dead. the ancients supposed that after death the departed souls wandered over the world and disturbed the peace of its inhabitants. =leon´idas.= a celebrated king of lacedæmon who went to oppose xerxes, king of persia, who had invaded greece with a vast army. a great battle was fought at thermopylæ, the entire army of leonidas consisting of men who refused to abandon him. for a time this small army resisted the vast legions of xerxes, till at length a traitor conducted a detachment of persians by a secret path to the rear of leonidas, when his soldiers were cut to pieces, one only of the escaping. =lep´idus, m. Æmil´ius.= a celebrated roman, one of the triumvirs with augustus and antony. he was of an illustrious family, and, like many of his contemporaries, remarkable for ambition. he was unable to maintain his position as triumvir, and, resigning power, he sank into obscurity. =le´the.= one of the rivers of hell, whose waters were imbibed by the souls of the dead which had been for a certain period confined in tartarus. those who drank of this river forgot what they had previously known. in this sense the word is constantly used by the poets. =leucip´pus.= a celebrated philosopher of abdera, about years before christ. he was a disciple of zeno. his life was written by diogenes. there were several others of the same name. =leuc´tra.= a village in boeotia, famous for the victory which epaminondas, the theban general, obtained over the superior force of cleombrotus, king of sparta, b.c. . =licin´ius, c.= a tribune of the people, celebrated for his intrigues and ability. he was a plebeian, and was the first of that class that was raised to the office of master of the horse to the dictator. there were a number of other romans of the same name. =liv´ius, ti´tus.= a native of padua, a celebrated historian. he passed the chief part of his time at naples and rome, but more particularly at the court of augustus, who liberally patronized him. the name of livy is rendered immortal by his history of the roman empire. the merit of this history is admitted by all, and the high rank which livy holds amongst historians is undisputed. =liv´ius androni´cus= was a dramatic poet who flourished at rome about years before the christian era. =longi´nus, dionys´ius cas´sius.= a celebrated greek philosopher of athens. he was preceptor of the greek language, and afterwards minister, to zenobia, the famous queen of palmyra. =luca´nus m. annæ´us.= a native of corduba in spain. at an early age he went to rome, where his rising talents recommended him to the emperor nero. he unwisely entered into a poetical contest with nero, in which he obtained an easy victory, which greatly offended the emperor. after this lucan was exposed to much annoyance from nero, and was induced to join in a conspiracy against him, on which he was condemned to death, the mode of which he had the liberty of choosing. he decided to have his veins opened in a warm bath, and died quoting some lines from his "pharsalia." of all his works none but the "pharsalia" remains. =lucia´nus.= a celebrated writer of samosata. his works are numerous, consisting chiefly of dialogues written with much force. he died a.d. , being, as some say, torn in pieces by dogs for his impiety. =lu´cifer.= the name of the planet venus, or morning star. it is called lucifer when appearing in the morning before the sun, but when it appears after its setting it is called hesperus. =lucil´ius, c.= a roman knight, who is regarded as the first satirical writer amongst the romans. of thirty satires which he wrote only a few verses remain. he died at naples b.c. . =lucil´ius luci´nus.= a famous roman who fled with brutus from the battle of philippi. he was taken prisoner, but the conquerors spared his life. =luci´na.= daughter of jupiter and juno. she was the goddess who presided over the birth of children. =lucre´tia.= a celebrated roman lady, daughter of lucretius and wife of tarquinius collatinus. a number of young noble romans at ardea, among whom were collatinus and the sons of tarquin the proud, were discussing the virtues of their wives at home, and it was agreed to go to rome to ascertain how their wives employed themselves in their husbands' absence in the camp. while the wives of the others were indulging in feasting and dissipation, lucretia was found in her house employing herself with her servants in domestic duties. she was brutally treated by sextus tarquin, a relative of collatinus, and stabbed herself. this was the signal for a rebellion, the result being the expulsion of the tarquins from rome. =lucre´tius, ca´rus t.= a celebrated roman poet and philosopher. the tenets of epicurus were embraced by him, and were explained and elucidated in a poem which he wrote, _de rerum natura_. this poem is distinguished by genius and elegance, but the doctrines it inculcates have an atheistical tendency. lucretius is said to have destroyed himself b.c. . =lucul´lus, lu´cius licin´ius.= a roman noted for his fondness of luxury and for his military abilities. he was born about years before the christian era, and distinguished himself by his proficiency in eloquence and philosophy. he was soon advanced to the consulship, and intrusted with the management of the mithridatic war, in which he displayed his military talents. =lycur´gus.= a celebrated lawgiver of sparta, son of king eunomus and brother to polydectes. he succeeded his brother on the spartan throne. in the laws which he enacted he maintained a just equilibrium between the throne and the people; he banished luxury and encouraged the useful arts, and adopted a number of measures having for their object the well-being of the people. lycurgus has been compared with solon, the celebrated legislator of athens. =lyn´ceus=, son of aphareus, was one of the hunters of the calydonian boar, and one of the argonauts. he was so sharp-sighted that he could see through the earth and distinguish objects at a great distance from him. there was another person of the same name who married hypermnestra, daughter of danaus. =lysan´der.= a celebrated general of sparta in the last years of the peloponnesian war. he drew ephesus from the interest of athens, and gained the friendship of cyrus the younger. he gave battle to the athenian fleet, and destroyed it all except three ships. in this battle, which was fought years before the christian era, the athenians lost a great number of men, and in consequence of it forfeited their influence over neighboring states. lysander was killed in battle years b.c. =lysim´achus.= a son of agathocles, who was one of the generals of alexander. after the death of that monarch lysimachus made himself master of thrace, where he built a town which he called lysimachia. =lysip´pus.= a famous statuary of sicyon. he applied himself to painting, but he was born to excel in sculpture. he lived about years before the christian era, in the age of alexander the great. =macro´bius.= a latin writer, who died a.d. . he has rendered himself famous for a composition called _saturnalia_, a miscellaneous collection of antiquarian and critical literature. =mæan´der.= a celebrated river of asia minor flowing into the Ægean sea. it is famous amongst the poets for its windings, and from it the application of the word "meandering" to a winding stream has become proverbial. =ma´ecenas=, or =meca´enas, c. cilnius=, a celebrated roman knight, has rendered himself immortal by his liberal patronage of learned men. to the interference of maecenas virgil was indebted for the restitution of his lands. maecenas, according to the received opinion, wrote a history of animals and a journal of the life of augustus. virgil dedicated his georgics to him, as did horace his odes. =ma´nes.= a name applied by the ancients to the soul when departed from the body. =man´lius, mar´cus.= a celebrated roman who, at an early age, distinguished himself for valor. when rome was taken by the gauls, he, with a body of his countrymen, fled to the capitol, which he defended when it was surprised in the night by the enemy. this gained him the surname of _capitolinus_, and the geese which had awakened him to action by their clamor were afterwards held sacred among the romans. =mar´athon.= a village of attica, celebrated for the victory which the athenians and platæans, under the command of miltiades, gained over the persian army, b.c. =marcel´lus, mar´cus clau´dius.= a famous roman general. he was the first roman who obtained some advantage over hannibal. he conquered syracuse, with the spoils from which he adorned rome. he was killed in battle in his fifth consulship. =marcel´lus.= a roman who distinguished himself in the civil wars of cæsar and pompey by his firm attachment to the latter. he was banished by cæsar, but was afterwards recalled at the request of the senate. there were some other romans of the same name, of minor repute. =mardo´nius.= a general in the army of xerxes who was defeated in the battle of platæa, where he was slain, b.c. . =ma´rius, c.= a celebrated roman who signalized himself under scipio at the siege of numantia. he was appointed to finish the war against jugurtha, who was defeated and betrayed into the hands of the romans. after this new honors awaited marius. he was elected consul, and was sent against the teutones. the war was prolonged, and marius was a third and fourth time invested with the consulship. at length two engagements were fought, and the teutones were defeated, a vast number of them being left dead on the battlefields. after many vicissitudes marius died, b.c. , directly after he had been honored with the consulship for the seventh time. there were a number of others of the same name, but of minor note. =mars=, the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno, or of juno alone, according to ovid. the loves of mars and venus are greatly celebrated. on one occasion, while in each other's company, vulcan spread a net round them, from which they could not escape without assistance. they were thus exposed to the ridicule of the gods till neptune induced vulcan to set them at liberty. during the trojan war mars interested himself on the side of the trojans, and defended the favorites of venus with great determination. =mar´syas.= a celebrated piper of celæne in phrygia. he challenged apollo to a trial of skill in music, which challenge was accepted, the muses being appointed umpires. the palm of victory was awarded to apollo, who tied his antagonist to a tree and flayed him. =martia´lis, mar´cus vale´rius.= a native of spain who came to rome when he was about twenty years old, where he became noticeable by his poetical genius. martial wrote fourteen books of epigrams, and died in the seventy-fifth year of his age. =masinis´sa.= a king of a small part of africa, who at first assisted the carthaginians in their wars against rome, but who subsequently became an ally of the romans. after his defeat of syphax he married sophonisba, the wife of syphax, which gave offense to the roman general, scipio, on which masinissa induced sophonisba to end her life by poison. in the battle of zama, masinissa greatly contributed to the defeat of hannibal. he died in his ninety-seventh year, years before the christian era. =mauso´lus.= a king of caria. his wife artemisia was very disconsolate at his death, and erected one of the grandest monuments of antiquity to perpetuate his memory. this famous building, which was deemed to be one of the seven wonders of the world, was called "mausoleum," which name has been since applied to other grand sepulchral monuments. =maximi´nus, ca´ius ju´lius ve´rus=, was the son of a peasant of thrace. he entered the roman armies, where he gradually rose till he was proclaimed emperor a.d. . he ruled with great cruelty, and was eventually killed by his own soldiers. he was of immense size and strength, and was able to break the hardest stones between his fingers. =mede´a.= a celebrated magician, daughter of Ætes, king of colchis, and niece of circe. when jason came to colchis in quest of the golden fleece, medea fell in love with him, and they exchanged oaths of fidelity, and when he had overcome all the difficulties which he had to encounter, medea embarked with him for greece. she lived in corinth with her husband jason for ten years, with much conjugal happiness, when he became enamored with glauce, daughter of creon, king of corinth. to avenge herself on jason she caused the destruction of glauce, and killed her two children in his presence. =medu´sa.= one of the three gorgons, daughter of phorcys and ceto. she was the only one of the gorgons subject to mortality. she was celebrated for her personal charms and the beauty of her hair, which minerva changed into serpents. according to apollodorus and others, the gorgons were born with snakes on their heads instead of hair, and with yellow wings and brazen hands. perseus rendered himself famous by his conquest of medusa. he cut off her head and placed it on the ægis of minerva. the head had the power of changing those who looked at it into stone. =melea´ger.= a celebrated hero of antiquity, who signalized himself in the argonautic expedition, and especially by killing the calydonian boar, a famous event in mythological history. =melpom´ene.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over tragedy. she is generally represented as a young woman wearing a buskin and holding a dagger in her hand. =mem´non.= a king of ethiopia, son of tithonus and aurora. he came with ten thousand men to assist priam in the trojan war, where he behaved with great courage, and killed antilochus, nestor's son, on which nestor challenged memnon to fight, but he refused on account of the great age of the challenger; but he fought achilles, who killed him. a statue was erected in his honor, which had the property of uttering a melodious sound every day at sunrise. =menan´der.= a celebrated comic poet of athens, educated under theophrastus. he was universally esteemed by the greeks. he wrote comedies, but of which only a few fragments remain. =menela´us.= a king of sparta, brother to agamemnon. he married helen, the most beautiful woman of her time. paris, having arrived in sparta in the absence of menelaus, persuaded her to elope with him, which was the cause of the trojan war. in the tenth year of the war helen, it is said, obtained the forgiveness of menelaus, with whom she returned to sparta, where, shortly after his return, he died. =mene´nius agrippa.= a celebrated roman who appeased the roman populace in the infancy of the consular government by repeating to them the well-known fable of the belly and limbs. he lived b.c. . =menip´pus.= a cynic philosopher of phoenicia. he was originally a slave, and, obtaining his liberty, became notorious as a usurer. he wrote thirteen books of satires. =men´tor.= a faithful friend of ulysses, and guide and instructor of his son telemachus. the term mentor has become proverbial as applied to any one who is an educator of youth. =mercu´rius.= a celebrated god of antiquity, called hermes by the greeks. he was the messenger of the gods, and conducted the souls of the dead into the infernal regions. he presided over orators, merchants, and was also the god of thieves. the invention of the lyre is ascribed to him. this he gave to apollo, and received in exchange the caduceus, which the god of poetry used to drive the flocks of king admetus. =mer´ope.= one of the atlantides. she married sisyphus, son of Æolus, and was changed into a constellation. =me´rops.= a king of the island of cos, who married clymene, one of the oceanides. he was changed into an eagle, and placed among the constellations. =messali´na, vale´ria=, was notorious for her vices. she married the emperor claudius, who, wearied with her misconduct, cited her to appear before him and reply to the accusations which were brought against her, on which she attempted to destroy herself, but failing to do so, was slain by one of the tribunes who had been sent to summon her. =metel´li.= the surname of the family of the cæcilii at rome, the most noted of whom are--a general who defeated the achæans, took thebes, and invaded macedonia; quintus cæcilius, rendered famous by his successes against jugurtha, the king of numidia; q. cæcilius celer, who distinguished himself against catiline. he died fifty-seven years b.c., greatly lamented by cicero, who was one of his warmest friends; l. cæcilius, a tribune in the civil wars of cæsar and pompey, who favored the cause of pompey; q. caæilius, a warlike general who conquered crete and macedonia; metellus cimber, one of the conspirators against cæsar. he gave the signal to attack and murder the dictator. =micip´sa.= a king of numidia, son of masinissa, who, at his death, b.c. , left his kingdom between his sons adherbal and hiempsal, and his nephew jugurtha. =mi´das.= a king of phrygia, son of gordius or gorgias. according to some traditions, in the early part of his life he found a treasure, to which he owed his greatness and opulence. he showed hospitality to silenus, in return for which bacchus permitted him to choose whatever recompense he pleased. he demanded of the god that whatever he touched might be turned into gold. his wish was granted, but when the very food which he attempted to eat became gold in his mouth he prayed bacchus to revoke the favor, and he was ordered to wash himself in the river pactolus, the sands of which were turned into gold by the touch of midas. afterwards, in consequence of maintaining that pan was superior to apollo in singing and playing the flute, he had his ears changed into those of an ass by the god. =mi´lo.= a celebrated athlete of crotona in italy. he is said to have carried on his shoulders a bullock for a considerable distance, and to have killed it with a blow from his fist, and eaten it in one day. in his old age he attempted to pull up a tree by the roots, which, when half-cleft, reunited, and his hands remaining imprisoned in the tree, he was eaten by wild beasts about years before the christian era. =milti´ades=, son of simon, was sent by the athenians to take possession of the chersonesus. on his arrival he seized some of the principal inhabitants of the country, made himself absolute in chersonese, and married the daughter of olorus, king of the thracians. he was present at the celebrated battle of marathon, where the command was ceded to him, owing to his superior abilities. he obtained the victory, but an olive crown, which he demanded from his fellow-citizens as a reward for his valor, was refused. afterwards he was intrusted with a fleet of seventy ships, with which to punish some islands which had revolted to the persians. at first he was successful, but afterwards fortune frowned on him. he was accused of treason and condemned to death, but his sentence was, owing to his great services, commuted. he died in prison of some wounds he had received, which became incurable. =miner´va=, the goddess of wisdom, war, and all the liberal arts, sprang, full-grown and armed, from the head of jupiter, and was immediately admitted to the assembly of the gods, and became one of the most faithful counselors of her father. her power in heaven was great: she could hurl the thunders of jupiter, prolong the life of men, and bestow the gift of prophecy. she was known amongst the ancients by many names. she was called athena, pallas, parthenos, tritonia (because she was worshiped near the lake tritonis) and hippia (because she first taught mankind how to manage the horse), sais (because she was worshipped at sais), and some other names. she is usually represented with a helmet on her head with a large plume on it, in one hand holding a spear, and in the other a shield with the head of medusa on it. temples were erected for her worship in different places, one of the most renowned of which was the parthenon at athens. from this building a large collection of ancient sculpture was brought to the british museum by lord elgin more than sixty years ago, which is known as the "elgin marbles." =mi´nos.= a king of crete, son of jupiter and europa, who gave laws to his subjects, b.c. , which remained in full force in the age of plato. =mi´nos the second= was a son of lycastes, the son of minos the first, and king of crete. he married pasiphae, the daughter of sol and perseis. =minotau´rus.= a celebrated monster, half a man and half a bull, for which a number of young athenian men and maidens were yearly exacted to be devoured. the minotaur was confined in a famous labyrinth, where at length it was slain by theseus, who was guided out of the labyrinth by a clue of thread given to him by ariadne, daughter of king minos. =mithrida´tes first=, king of pontus. he was tributary to the crown of persia: his attempts to make himself independent of that fealty proved fruitless, being defeated in a battle which he had provoked, and having to sue for peace. =mithrida´tes=, surnamed "eupator" and "the great," succeeded to the throne of pontus when eleven years of age. the beginning of his reign was marked by ambition and cruelty. at an early age he inured himself to hardships by devoting himself to manly exercises, and sleeping in the open air on the bare earth. he was constantly engaged in warfare against the romans, and his contests with them are known as the mithridatic wars. his hatred of the romans was so great that, to destroy their power, he ordered all of them that were in his dominions to be massacred, and in one night , , according to plutarch, or , , according to another authority, were slaughtered. this cruel act called for revenge, and great armies were sent against him. after varied fortunes mithridates had to succumb to pompey, and, worn out with misfortune, attempted to poison himself, but unsuccessfully, as the numerous antidotes to poison which in early life he had taken strengthened his constitution to resist the effect. he then ordered one of his soldiers to give him the fatal blow with a sword, which was done. he died about sixty-three years before the christian era, in his seventy-second year. he is said to have been the most formidable opponent the romans ever had, and cicero estimates him as the greatest monarch that ever sat upon a throne. it is recorded of him that he conquered twenty-four nations, whose different languages he knew and spoke fluently. there were a number of persons of the same name, but of inferior note. =mnemos´yne.= a daughter of coelus and terra, mother of the nine muses. jupiter assumed the form of a shepherd in order to enjoy her company. =mo´mus=, the god of mirth amongst the ancients, according to hesiod, was the son of nox. he amused himself by satirizing the gods by turning into ridicule whatever they did. =mor´pheus.= a minister of the god somnus, who imitated very naturally the gestures, words, and manners of mankind. he is sometimes called the god of sleep. he is generally represented as a sleeping child, of great corpulence, with wings. =mos´chus.= a greek bucolic poet in the age of ptolemy philadelphus. his eclogues are characterized by sweetness and elegance, and are said to be equal in merit to the productions of theocritus. =mure´na.= a celebrated roman who invaded the dominions of mithridates, at first with success, but afterwards he met with defeat. he was honored with a triumph on his return to rome. =mu´sæ.= the muses, certain goddesses who presided over poetry, music, dancing, and all the liberal arts. they were daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne, and were nine in number, clio, euterpe, thalia, melpomene, terpsichore, erato, polyhymnia, calliope, and urania. =myce´næ.= a town of argolis, said to have been built by perseus. it received its name from mycene, a nymph of laconia. it was taken and destroyed by the argives. =nai´ades.= inferior deities who presided over rivers, springs, wells, and fountains. the naiads generally inhabited the country, and resorted to the woods and meadows near the stream over which they presided. they are represented as young and beautiful girls leaning on an urn, from which flows a stream of water. Ægle was the fairest of them, according to virgil. the word naiad has become anglicized, and is in frequent use, especially by the poets. =narcis´sus=, a beautiful youth, son of cephisus and the nymph liriope, was born at thespis in boeotia. he saw his image reflected in a fountain and became in love with it, thinking it to be the nymph of the place. his fruitless attempts to reach this beautiful object so provoked him, that he killed himself. his blood was changed into a flower which still bears his name. =nemæ´a.= a town of argolis, with a wood where hercules in the sixteenth year of his age killed the celebrated nemæan lion. it was the first of the labors of hercules to destroy the monster, and when he found that his arrows and clubs were useless, against an animal whose skin was impenetrable, he seized it in his arms and strangled it. =nem´esis.= one of the infernal deities, daughter of nox. she was the goddess of vengeance. she is made one of the parcæ by some mythologists, and is represented with a helm and a wheel. the term is sometimes used to signify vengeance itself. =neoptol´emus.= a king of epirus, son of achilles and deidamia, called also pyrrhus. he greatly signalized himself during the siege of troy, and he was the first who entered the wooden horse. he was inferior to none of the grecian warriors in valor. ulysses and nestor alone were his superiors in eloquence and wisdom. =ne´pos, corne´lius.= a celebrated historian in the reign of augustus, and, like the rest of his literary contemporaries, he enjoyed the patronage and obtained the favor of the emperor. he was the intimate friend of cicero and atticus, and recommended himself to notice by delicacy of sentiment and a lively disposition. of all his valuable works the only one extant is his lives of illustrious greek and roman generals. =neptu´nus.= one of the gods, son of saturn and ops, and brother to jupiter and pluto. he was devoured by his father as soon as he was born, and restored to life again by a potion given to saturn, by metis, the first wife of jupiter. neptune shared with his brothers the empire of saturn, and received as his portion the kingdom of the sea. he did not think this equivalent to the empire of heaven and earth, which jupiter had claimed, therefore he conspired to dethrone him. the conspiracy was discovered, and jupiter condemned neptune to build the walls of troy. he married amphitrite, who thus broke a vow she had made of perpetual celibacy. =nere´ides.= nymphs of the sea, daughters of nereus and doris. according to most of the mythologists, they were fifty in number. they are represented as young and handsome girls, sitting on dolphins and armed with tridents. =ne´ro, clau´dius domit´ius cæ´sar.= a celebrated roman emperor, son of caius domitius ahenobarbus and agrippina, the daughter of germanicus. his name is the synonym for cruelty and vice. in the night it was his wont to sally out from his palace to visit the meanest taverns and the different scenes of depravity that were to be found. he appeared on the stage, sometimes representing the meanest characters. he resolved to imitate the burning of troy, and caused rome to be set on fire in different places, the flames being unextinguished for nine days, and he enjoyed the terrible scene. during the conflagration he placed himself on the top of a tower and sang, accompanying himself on a lyre, of the destruction of troy. many conspiracies were formed against him, the most dangerous of which he was saved from by the confession of a slave. he killed himself a.d. , in the thirty-second year of his age, after a reign of thirteen years and eight months. wretch that he was, it is said that he had some few to mourn for him, and suetonius records that some unseen hand had placed flowers on his tomb. =ner´va, m. cocce´ius.= a roman emperor after the death of domitian a.d. . he rendered himself popular by his mildness and generosity. in his civil character he set an example of good manners and sobriety. he made an oath that no senator should suffer death during his reign, which he carried out by pardoning two members of the senate who had conspired against his life. he died in his seventy-second year, a.d. , and was succeeded by his son trajan. =nes´sus.= a celebrated centaur killed by hercules for insulting dejanira. =nes´tor.= a son of neleus and chloris, nephew to pelias, and grandson to neptune. he was present at the bloody battle between the lapithæ and the centaurs, which took place at the nuptials of pirithous. as king of pylos he led his soldiers to the trojan war, where he distinguished himself among the grecian chieftains by eloquence, wisdom, and prudence. homer makes his character as the most perfect of all his heroes. after the trojan war nestor retired to greece, where he lived during his declining years in peace and tranquillity. the manner and time of his death are unknown. =ni´nus.= a son of belus. he built nineveh and founded the assyrian monarchy, of which he was the first sovereign, b.c. . he married semiramis, whose husband had destroyed himself through fear of ninus. he reigned fifty-two years. =ni´obe.= a daughter of tantalus, king of lydia, and euryanassa, or dione. she married amphion, and, according to hesiod, they had ten sons and ten daughters. all the sons of niobe expired by the darts of apollo, and all the daughters, except chloris, were destroyed by diana. niobe, overwhelmed with grief, was changed into a stone. =nito´cris.= a celebrated queen of babylon, who built a bridge across the euphrates in the middle of that city, and dug a number of reservoirs for the superfluous water of the river. =nom´ades.= a name given to people who had no fixed habitation, and who continually changed their place of residence in quest of fresh pastures for the cattle they tended. there were nomades in scythia, india, arabia, etc. the word is in constant use as anglicized--nomad--meaning any one who leads a wandering and unsettled life. =nox.= one of the most ancient deities among the heathens, daughter of chaos. she gave birth to the day and the light, and was mother of the parcæ, hesperides, dreams, death, etc. =nu´ma pompil´ius.= a celebrated philosopher of cures. he married tatia, daughter of tatius, king of the sabines, and at her death he retired into the country to devote himself to literary pursuits. at the death of romulus the romans fixed on him to be their new king. numa at first refused the offer of the crown, but at length was prevailed on to accept it. he endeavored to inculcate into the minds of his subjects a reverence for the deity, and he did all he could to heal their dissensions. he encouraged the report of his visits to the nymph egeria, and made use of her name to give sanction to the laws which he had made. he dedicated a temple to janus, which, during his whole reign, remained closed as a mark of peace and tranquillity at rome. numa died after a reign of forty-three years (b.c. ), during which he had given encouragement to the useful arts, and had cultivated peace. =nym´phæ.= certain female deities among the ancients. they were generally divided into two classes--nymphs of the land and nymphs of the sea. of the former some presided over woods, and were called dryades and hamadryades. of the sea nymphs some were called oceanides, nereides, naiades, etc. =ocean´ides and oceanit´ides.= sea nymphs, daughters of oceanus, from whom they received their name. according to apollodorus they were in number, whilst hesiod speaks of them as consisting of forty-one. =oce´anus.= a powerful deity of the sea, son of coelus and terra. he married tethys, the oceanides being their children. =octa´via.= a roman lady, sister to the emperor augustus, celebrated for her beauty and virtues. she married claudius marcellus, and, after his death, antony, who for some time was attentive to her, but eventually deserted her for cleopatra. =octavia´nus, or octa´vius cæ´sar.= a famous roman who, after the battle of actium, had bestowed on him by the senate the surname _augustus_, as expressing his dignity and greatness. =odena´tus.= a celebrated prince of palmyra. at an early period of his life he inured himself to bear fatigue by hunting wild beasts. he was a faithful ally of the romans, and gave great offense to sapor, king of persia, in consequence. in the warfare which ensued he obtained advantage over the troops of sapor, and took his wife prisoner, besides gaining great booty. he died by the hand of one of his relations whom he had offended. zenobia succeeded him on the throne. =oe´dipus.= a son of laius, king of thebes, and jocasta. laius was informed by the oracle, as soon as he married jocasta, that he would perish by the hands of his son. on his birth oedipus was given to a domestic, with orders to expose him to death on the mountains, where he was found by one of the shepherds of polybus, king of corinth. periboea, the wife of polybus, educated him as her own child, tending him with great care. in after life he met laius in a narrow lane in a chariot, and being haughtily ordered to make way for laius, a combat ensued in which laius was slain. after this oedipus was attracted to thebes by the fame of the sphinx, who devoured all those who attempted to explain without success the enigmas which she propounded. the enigma proposed by the sphinx to oedipus was:--what animal in the morning walks upon four feet, at noon upon two, and in the evening upon three? oedipus solved the riddle by replying that the animal was man, who in childhood crawls on his hands and feet, on attaining manhood walks on two feet erect, and in the evening of life supports his tottering steps with a staff. the monster on hearing the correct solution of the riddle, dashed her head against a rock and perished. =oe´neus.= a king of calydon, son of parthaon or portheus and euryte. he married althæa, their children being clymenus, meleager, gorge, and dejanira. in a general sacrifice he made to the gods he slighted diana, who, in revenge, sent a wild boar to waste his country. the animal was killed by meleager in the celebrated calydonian boar hunt. after this misfortunes overtook oeneus, and he exiled himself from calydon, and died on his way to argolis. =oenom´aus.= king of pisa, in elis, and father of hippodamia. he was told by the oracle that he would perish by his son-in-law. being skillful in driving a chariot, he announced that he would give his daughter in marriage only to some one who could defeat him in a race, death being the result of those who were defeated. after a number of aspirants had contended and failed, pelops, son of tantalus, entered the lists, and by bribing the charioteer of oenomaus, who provided a chariot with a broken axle-tree, pelops won the race, and married hippodamia, becoming king of pisa. oenomaus was killed in the race. =olym´pia.= celebrated games which received their name either from olympia, where they were observed, or from jupiter olympius, to whom they were dedicated. =olym´pus.= a mountain in macedonia and thessaly. the ancients supposed that it touched the heavens, and thus they have made it the residence of the gods, and the place where jupiter held his court. on the top of the mountain, according to the poets, eternal spring reigned. =om´phale.= a queen of lydia, daughter of jardanus. she married tmolus, who at his death left her mistress of his kingdom. she had heard of the exploits of hercules, and wished to see him. after he had slain eurytus, hercules was ordered to be sold as a slave, and was purchased by omphale, who gave him his liberty. he became in love with omphale, who reciprocated his passion. he is represented by the poets as being so infatuated with her that he sat spinning by her side surrounded by her women, whilst she garbed herself with his lion's skin, arming herself with his club. =oppia´nus.= a greek poet of cilicia. he wrote some poems celebrated for their sublimity and elegance. caracalla gave him a piece of gold for every verse in one of his poems. oppian died of the plague in the thirtieth year of his age. =ops.= a daughter of coelus and terra, the same as the rhea of the greeks, who married saturn, and became mother of jupiter. she was known amongst the ancients by the different names of cybele, bona dea, magna mater, thya, tellus, and proserpina. =ores´tes.= a son of agamemnon and clytemnestra. his father was slain by clytemnestra and Ægisthus, but young orestes was saved from his mother's dagger by his sister electra, called by homer laodicea, and was conveyed to the house of strophius, king of phocis, who had married a sister of agamemnon. he was indulgently treated by strophius, who educated him with his son pylades. the two young princes formed the most inviolable friendship. when orestes had arrived at years of manhood he avenged his father's death by killing his mother clytemnestra. =or´igen.= a greek writer, celebrated for his learning and the sublimity of his genius. he suffered martyrdom in his sixty-ninth year. his works are numerous, consisting of commentaries on the scriptures and various treatises. =or´pheus.= a son of oeger and the muse calliope. some suppose him to be the son of apollo. he received a lyre from apollo, or, according to some, from mercury, on which he played in such a masterly manner that the melodious sounds caused rivers to cease to flow, and savage beasts to forget their wildness. he married eurydice, who died from the bite of a serpent. orpheus felt her death acutely, and to recover her he visited the infernal regions. pluto, the king of the infernal regions, was enraptured with the strains of music from the lyre of orpheus, and, according to the poets, the wheel of ixion stopped, the stone of sisyphus stood still, tantalus forgot his burning thirst, and even the furies relented, so fascinating were the sounds extracted from the lyre. pluto was moved by the sorrow of orpheus, and consented to restore eurydice to him, provided he forebore to look behind him till he had reached the extremity of his domain. orpheus agreed to this, but forgot his promise, and turned round to look at eurydice, who instantly vanished from his sight. after this he separated himself from the society of mankind, and the thracian women, whom he had offended by his coldness, attacked him whilst they celebrated the orgies of bacchus, and after they had torn his body to pieces they threw his head into the hebrus. =osi´ris.= a great deity of the egyptians, husband of isis. the ancients differ in opinion concerning this celebrated god, but they all agree that as ruler of egypt he took care to civilize his subjects, to improve their morals, to give them good and salutary laws, and to teach them agriculture. =ovid´ius, p. na´so.= a celebrated roman poet born at sulmo. he was sent at an early age to rome, and afterwards went to athens in the sixteenth year of his age, where his progress in the study of eloquence was great. his natural inclination, however, was towards poetry, and to this he devoted his chief attention. his lively genius and fertile imagination soon gained him admirers; the learned became his friends; virgil, propertius, horace, and tibullus, honored him with their correspondence, and augustus patronized him with unbounded liberality. these favors, however, were transitory, and he was banished to a place on the euxine sea by order of the emperor. the true cause of his banishment is not known. his friends ardently entreated the emperor to permit him to return, but in vain, and he died in the seventh or eighth year of his banishment, in the fifty-ninth year of his age, a.d. . a great portion of his works remains. these consist of the "metamorphoses," "fasti," "epistolæ," etc. whilst his works are occasionally disfigured by indelicacy, they are distinguished by great sweetness and elegance. =pacto´lus.= a celebrated river of lydia. it was in this river that midas washed himself when he turned into gold whatever he touched. =pæ´an.= a surname of apollo, derived from the word _pæan_, a hymn which was sung in his honor for killing the serpent python. =palæ´mon= or =pale´mon=. a sea deity, son of athamas and ino. his original name was melicerta. he assumed the name of palæmon after being changed into a sea deity by neptune. =palame´des.= a grecian chief, son of nauplius, king of euboea, and clymene. he was sent by the greek princes, who were going to the trojan war, to bring ulysses to the camp, who, to withdraw himself from the expedition, had pretended to be insane. palamedes soon penetrated the deception, and ulysses was obliged to join in the war, but an inveterate enmity arose between the two, and by an unworthy artifice ulysses procured the death of palamedes. palamedes is accredited with the invention of dice, backgammon, and other games. =palati´nus, mons.= a celebrated hill, the largest of the seven hills on which rome was built. =palinu´rus.= a skillful pilot of the ship of Æneas. he fell into the sea whilst asleep, and was exposed to the waves for three days, and on reaching the shore was murdered by the inhabitants of the place where he landed. =palla´dium.= a celebrated statue of pallas. it represented the goddess as holding a spear in her right hand, and in her left a distaff and spindle. it fell down from heaven near the tent of ilus as he was building the citadel of ilium, whilst, according to others, it fell in phrygia; another account says dardanus received it as a present from his mother electra; other accounts are given of its origin. it is generally agreed, however, that on the preservation of the statue the fate of troy depended. this was known to the greeks during the trojan war, and they contrived to obtain possession of it. but some authors say that the true palladium was not carried away by the greeks, but only a statue which had been placed near it, and which bore some resemblance to it. =pal´las.= a name of minerva. she is said to have received the name because she killed a noted giant bearing that name. =palmy´ra.= the capital of palmyrene, a country on the eastern boundaries of syria, now called tadmor. it is famous as being the seat of government of the celebrated queen zenobia. =pan.= the god of shepherds, huntsmen, and the inhabitants of the country. he was in appearance a monster; he had two small horns on his head, and his legs, thighs, tail, and feet were like those of the goat. =pan´darus.= a son of lycaon, who aided the trojans in their war with the greeks. he broke the truce which had been agreed on by the contending armies, and wounded menelaus and diomedes. he was at last killed by diomedes. =pandi´on.= a king of athens, father of procne and philomela. during his reign there was such an abundance of corn, wine, and oil in his realm, that it was supposed that bacchus and minerva had personally visited the country. =pando´ra.= a celebrated woman; the first mortal female that ever lived, according to hesiod. she was made of clay by vulcan, and having received life, all the gods made presents to her. venus gave her beauty and the art of pleasing; the graces gave her the power of captivating; apollo taught her how to sing, and mercury instructed her in eloquence. jupiter gave her a beautiful box, which she was ordered to present to the man who married her. this was epithemeus, brother of prometheus, who opened the box, from which issued a multitude of evils, which became dispersed all over the world, and which from that fatal moment have never ceased to affect the human race. hope alone remained at the bottom of the box. =pan´sa, c. vib´ius.= a roman consul, who, with hirtius, pursued the assassins of cæsar, and was killed in a battle near mutina. =pan´theon.= a celebrated temple at rome, built by agrippa in the reign of augustus, and dedicated to all the gods. =par´cæ.= the fates, powerful goddesses who presided over the birth and life of mankind. they were three in number, clotho, lachesis, and atropos, daughters of nox and erebus, according to hesiod, or, according to what he says in another place, of jupiter and themis. =par´is.= the son of priam, king of troy, and hecuba; he was also called alexander. he was destined before his birth to cause the ruin of his country, and before he was born his mother dreamt that he would be a torch which would set fire to her palace. the soothsayers predicted that he would be the cause of the destruction of troy. in consequence of these foretold calamities priam ordered a slave to destroy the child immediately after birth, but instead of acting thus the slave exposed the child on mount ida, where some shepherds found him and took care of him. paris gave early proofs of courage, and his graceful countenance recommended him to oenone, a nymph of ida, whom he married. at the marriage of peleus and thetis, the goddess of discord, who had not been invited, showed her displeasure by throwing into the assembly of the gods, who were at the nuptials, a golden apple, on which were the words: let it be given to the fairest. the apple was claimed by juno, venus, and minerva. paris, who had been appointed to award it to the most beautiful of the three goddesses, gave it to venus. subsequently paris visited sparta, where he persuaded helen, wife of menelaus, the most beautiful woman of the age, to elope with him. this caused the trojan war. different accounts are given of the death of paris. by some he is said to have been killed by one of the arrows of philoctetes which had once belonged to hercules. =parme´nio.= a celebrated general in the armies of alexander the great, by whom he was regarded with the greatest affection. the firm friendship which existed between the two generals was broken in a sudden fit of anger by alexander, who ordered his friend to be put to death, b.c. . =parnas´sus.= a mountain of phocis sacred to the muses, and to apollo and bacchus. it was named thus after a son of neptune who bore that designation. =parrha´sius.= a famous painter of ephesus in the age of zeuxis, about fifteen years before christ. he contended, on one occasion, with zeuxis for the palm in painting, and zeuxis acknowledged that he was excelled by parrhasius. =par´thenon.= a temple of athens sacred to minerva. it was destroyed by the persians, and was rebuilt by pericles. =pasiph´ae.= a daughter of the sun and of perseis, who married minos, king of crete. she became the mother of the minotaur, which was killed by theseus. =patro´clus.= one of the grecian chiefs during the trojan war. he contracted an intimate friendship with achilles, and when the greeks went to the trojan war patroclus accompanied them. he was the constant companion of achilles, living in the same tent, and when his friend refused to appear in the field of battle, because of being offended with agamemnon, patroclus imitated his example. nestor, however, prevailed on him again to take the field, and achilles lent him his armor. hector encountered him, and after a desperate fight slew him. the greeks obtained his dead body, which was brought into the grecian camp, where achilles received it with great lamentation, and again taking the field, killed hector, thus avenging the death of his friend. =pau´lus Æmil´ius.= a roman celebrated for his military achievements, surnamed "macedonicus" from his conquest of macedonia. in early life he distinguished himself by his application and for his love for military discipline. in his first consulship he reduced the ligurians to subjection, and subsequently obtained a great victory over the macedonians, making himself master of the country. in the office of censor, which he filled, he behaved with great moderation, and at his death, about years before the christian era, the romans mourned deeply for him. =pausa´nias.= a spartan general who greatly signalized himself at the battle of platæa against the persians. he afterwards, at the head of the spartan armies, extended his conquests in asia, but the haughtiness of his behavior made him many enemies. he offered, on certain conditions, to betray greece to the persians, but his perfidy was discovered, on which he fled for safety to a temple of minerva, where he was starved to death, b.c. . =peg´asus.= a winged horse sprung from the blood of medusa. according to ovid he fixed his abode on mount helicon, where, by striking the earth with his foot, he raised a fountain which has been called hippocrene. =pe´leus.= a king of thessaly, son of Æacus and endeis, the daughter of chiron. he married thetis, one of the nereids. =pe´lias.= son of neptune and tyro. on his birth he was exposed in the woods, but his life was preserved by some shepherds. subsequently tyro was married to cretheus, king of iolchos. they had three children, of whom Æson was the eldest. pelias visited his mother after the death of cretheus, and usurped the authority which properly belonged to the children of the deceased monarch. jason, the son of Æson, who had been educated by chiron, on attaining manhood demanded the kingdom, the government of which pelias had usurped. jason was persuaded by pelias to waive his claim for the present, and start on the argonautic expedition. on his return, accompanied by the sorceress medea, she undertook to restore pelias to youth, explaining that it was necessary first to cut his body to pieces and place the limbs in a caldron of boiling water. this was done, when medea refused to fulfill her promise, which she had solemnly made to the daughters of pelias, who were four in number, and who had received the patronymic of the "peliades." =pe´lion=, sometimes called pelios. a celebrated mountain of thessaly, the top of which is covered with pine-trees. =pelop´idas.= a celebrated general of thebes, son of hippoclus. it was owing to his valor and prudence, combined with the ability of epaminondas, that the famous victory of leuctra was won. =pe´lops.= a celebrated prince, son of tantalus, king of phrygia. he was killed by his father, and served up as a feast to the gods, who had visited phrygia. he was restored to life, and married hippodamia, having won her through defeating her father in a chariot race. =pena´tes.= certain inferior deities among the romans, who presided over the domestic affairs of families. =penel´ope.= a celebrated princess of greece, daughter of icarius, and wife of ulysses, king of ithaca. she became the mother of telemachus, and was obliged to part, with great reluctance, from her husband, when the greeks obliged him to go to the trojan war. the strife between the hostile forces continued for ten years, and when ulysses did not return home at the conclusion of the war her fears and anxieties became overwhelming. she was beset by a number of suitors, who told her that her husband would never return, and she ought to give herself to one of her admirers. she received their advances with coldness, but as she was devoid of power, and, as it were, almost a prisoner in their hands, she temporized with them. after twenty years' absence ulysses returned, and at once delivered her from the persecutions of her suitors. penelope is described by homer as a model of female propriety, whilst some more modern writers dispute the correctness of this view. the accounts given by different authors respecting her, in fact, differ materially. by some she is said to have been the mother of pan. =penthesile´a.= a queen of the amazons, daughter of mars. she came to assist priam in the last years of the trojan war, and was slain by achilles. =per´gamus.= the citadel of the city of troy. the word is often used to signify troy. from it xerxes reviewed his troops as he marched to invade greece. =per´icles.= an athenian of noble family, son of xanthippus and agariste. his naturally great mental powers were greatly improved by attending the lectures of zeno and other philosophers. he became a commander, a statesman, and an orator, and gained the esteem of the people by his address and liberality. in his ministerial capacity, pericles did not enrich himself. the prosperity and happiness of athens was his primary object. he made war against the lacedæmonians, and restored the temple of delphi to the care of the phocians, who had been improperly deprived of that honorable trust. the peloponnesian war was fomented by his ambitious views. he at length lost his popularity, but only temporarily, and he was restored to all the honors of which he had been deprived. a pestilence which prevailed proved fatal to him in his seventieth year, about years before christ. =per´seus.= a son of jupiter and danae, the daughter of acrisius. it had been predicted by the oracle that acrisius was to perish by his daughter's offspring, so perseus, soon after his birth, was, with his mother danae, thrown into the sea. both were saved and reached the island of seriphos, where they were treated kindly by polydectes, the king, who, however, soon became jealous of the genius of perseus. perseus had promised polydectes to bring him the head of the gorgon medusa. to enable him to obtain this pluto lent him a helmet which made the wearer invisible. minerva gave him her buckler, and mercury furnished him with wings. thus equipped he found the gorgons, and cut off medusa's head, with which he fled through the air, and from the blood which dropped from it, sprang the horse pegasus. during his flight perseus discovered andromeda chained to a rock to be devoured by a sea monster, which he destroyed, and married andromeda. he now returned to seriphos, where he turned into stone polydectes by showing him medusa's head. by an accident, in throwing a quoit he killed acrisius, thus fulfilling the prediction of the oracle. =per´seus= or =per´ses=. a son of philip, king of macedonia. he distinguished himself by his enmity to the romans, and when he had made sufficient preparations he declared war against them. he, however, wanted courage and resolution, and though he at first obtained some advantages over the roman armies, his timidity proved destructive to his cause. he was defeated at pydna, and soon after was taken prisoner, and died in prison at rome. =per´sius, au´lus flac´cus.= a latin poet of volaterræ. he was of a good family, and soon became intimate with the most illustrious romans of his day. the early part of his life was spent in his native town, but at the age of sixteen he was removed to rome, where he studied philosophy. he died in his thirtieth year, a.d. . the satires of persius were read with pleasure and avidity by his contemporaries. =per´tinax, pub´lius hel´vius.= a roman emperor after the death of commodus. he was descended from an obscure family, and for some time was employed in drying wood and making charcoal. he entered on a military life and by his valor rose to offices of the highest trust, and was made consul. at the death of commodus he was selected to succeed to the throne. his patriotism gained him the affection of the worthiest of his subjects, but there were some who plotted against him. he was killed by his soldiers, a.d. . =petro´nius ar´biter.= a favorite of the emperor nero, and one of the ministers and associates of his pleasures and vices. he was made proconsul of bithynia, and afterwards was honored with the consulship. eventually he became out of favor with nero, and resolved to destroy himself, which he did by having his veins opened, a.d. . petronius distinguished himself by his writings as well as by his voluptuousness. he is the author of many elegant compositions, which are, however, often characterized by impropriety of language. =phæ´dra.= a daughter of minos and pasiphæ, who married theseus. she became the mother of acamas and demophoon. she brought an unjust accusation against hippolytus (a son of theseus before she married him), who was killed by the horses in his chariot taking fright, causing him to be thrown under the wheels and crushed to death. on hearing this phædra acknowledged the falseness of the charge she had brought against hippolytus, and hanged herself in despair. =phæ´drus.= a thracian who became one of the freed men of the emperor augustus. he translated the fables of Æsop into iambic verse. =pha´ethon.= a son of the sun, or of phoebus and clymene. according to hesiod and pausanias he was son of cephalus and aurora, or of tithonus and aurora, according to apollodorus. he is, however, generally acknowledged to be son of phoebus and clymene. phoebus allowed him to drive the chariot of the sun for one day. phaethon, on receiving the reins, at once showed his incapacity; the horses became unmanageable, and heaven and earth were threatened with a conflagration, when jupiter struck phaethon with a thunderbolt, and hurled him into the river po, where he perished. =phal´aris.= a tyrant of agrigentum, who treated his subjects with great cruelty. perillus made him a brazen bull, inside of which he proposed to place culprits, and by applying fire burn them to death. the first to be thus burnt in this manner was perillus himself. the cruelties practiced by phalaris were revenged by a revolt of his people, who put him to death by burning him in the bull. =pha´on.= a boatman of mitylene, in lesbos. he received a box of ointment from venus, who had presented herself to him in the form of an old woman. when he had rubbed himself with the unguent he became beautiful, and sappho, the celebrated poetess, became enamored with him. for a short time he devoted himself to her, but soon treated her with coldness, upon which she threw herself into the sea and was drowned. =pharnaba´zus.= a satrap of persia who assisted the lacedæmonians against the athenians, and gained their esteem by his devotion to their cause. =pha´ros.= a small island in the bay of alexandria, on which was built a tower which was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. it was erected in the reigns of ptolemy soter and ptolemy philadelphus, the architect being sostratus, the son of dexiphanes. =pharsa´lia.= a town of thessaly, famous for the great battle fought there between julius cæsar and pompey, in which the former obtained the victory. =phid´ias.= a celebrated sculptor of athens, who died b.c. . he executed a statue of minerva, which was placed in the pantheon. =philip´pi.= a town of macedonia, celebrated for two battles fought there, b.c. , between augustus and antony and the republican forces of brutus and cassius, in which the former were victorious. =philip´pus=, king of macedonia, was son of amyntas, king of macedonia. he learnt the art of war from epaminondas. he married olympias, the daughter of neoptolemus, king of the molossi, and became father of alexander the great. amongst the most important events of his reign was the battle of chæronea, which he won from the greeks. the character of philip is that of a sagacious, prudent, but artful and intriguing, monarch. he was assassinated by pausanias at the celebration of the nuptials of his daughter, in the forty-seventh year of his age and the twenty-fourth of his reign, about years before the christian era. =philip´pus.= the last king of macedonia of that name was son of demetrius. he aspired to become the friend of hannibal. his intrigues were discovered by the romans, who invaded his territories, and extorted peace from him on terms which were humiliating. he died in the forty-second year of his reign, years before the christian era. =phi´lo.= a jewish writer of alexandria, a.d. . his works related to the creation of the world, sacred history, and the laws and customs of the jewish nation. =philocte´tes= was one of the argonauts. he received from hercules the arrows which had been dipped in the gall of the hydra. the greeks, in the tenth year of the trojan war, were informed by the oracle that troy could not be taken without these arrows. philoctetes repaired to the grecian camp, where he destroyed a number of the trojans, among whom was paris, with the arrows. the adventures of philoctetes are the subject of one of the best tragedies of sophocles. =philome´la.= a daughter of pandion, king of athens. her sister procne had married tereus, king of thrace, and being separated from philomela spent her time in great melancholy. she persuaded her husband to go to athens and bring her sister to thrace. tereus, on the journey, treated philomela with great cruelty, and cut off her tongue, confining her in a lonely castle, and reporting to procne that she was dead. philomela, however, found means to inform procne that she was living. in revenge for the cruelty of tereus, procne murdered his son and served him up as food at a banquet. on hearing this tereus drew his sword to slay the sisters, when he was changed into a hoopoe, philomela into a nightingale, and procne into a swallow. =philopoe´men.= a celebrated general of the achæans, born at megalopolis. at an early age he distinguished himself in the field of battle, at the same time appearing fond of agriculture and a country life. he adopted epaminondas as his model, and was not unsuccessful in imitating the prudence and other good qualities of the famous theban. when megalopolis was attacked by the spartans, philopoemen, then in his thirtieth year, gave the most decisive proofs of his valor. raised to the rank of commander, he showed his ability to discharge that important trust, by killing with his own hand mechanidas, the tyrant of sparta, and defeating his army. sparta having become, after its conquest, tributary to the achæans, philopoemen enjoyed the triumph of having subdued one of the most powerful states of greece. he was at length made prisoner by the messenians, and was treated by their general, dinocrates, with great severity. he was poisoned in his seventieth year, about years before the christian era. =philos´tratus.= a famous sophist, born at lemnos, or, according to some, at athens. he came to rome, where he was patronized by julia, the wife of the emperor severus. she intrusted him with some papers referring to apollonius, whose life he wrote. this biography is written with elegance, but contains many exaggerated descriptions and improbable stories. =phi´neus.= a son of agenor, king of phoenicia, or, according to some, a son of neptune, who became king of thrace. he married cleopatra (called by some cleobula), the daughter of boreas, their children being plexippus and pandion. after the death of cleopatra, he married idæa, the daughter of dardanus, who, jealous of cleopatra's children, accused them of an attempt on their father's life, and they were condemned by phineus to have their eyes put out. this cruelty was punished by the gods, phineus being made blind, and the harpies were sent by jupiter to keep him in continual alarm. he recovered his sight by means of the argonauts, whom he received with great hospitality. =phleg´ethon.= a river in the infernal regions, between the banks of which flames of fire flowed instead of water. =phle´gon.= one of the emperor adrian's freedmen. he wrote a historical account of sicily, an account of the principal places in rome, and treatises on different subjects. his style was inelegant, and he evinced a want of judgment in his writings. =pho´cion.= an athenian celebrated for his public and private virtues. he was distinguished for his zeal for the general good, and for his military abilities. the fickleness of the athenians, however, caused them to lose sight of his virtues, and being accused of treason, he was condemned to drink poison, which he took with the greatest heroism. his death occurred about years before the christian era. =phoe´nix=, son of amyntor, king of argos, and cleobule or hippodamia, was preceptor to achilles. he accompanied his pupil to the trojan war, and achilles was ever grateful for the precepts he had received from him. after the fall of troy he died in thrace, and, according to strabo, was buried near trachinia, where his name was given to a river. =phry´ne.= a beautiful woman who lived at athens about years before the christian era. she was beloved by praxiteles, who painted her portrait. it is said that apelles painted his venus anadyomene after he had seen phryne on the sea-shore with disheveled hair. there was another woman of the same name, who was accused of impiety. when her judges were about to condemn her she unveiled her bosom, and her beauty so captivated them that they acquitted her. =phryx´us.= a son of athamas, king of thebes, and nephele. on the plea of insanity, nephele was repudiated by athamas, who then married ino, who persecuted phryxus with inveterate hatred, because he was to succeed to the throne in preference to one of her own children. being apprised that ino had designs on his life, he started with his sister helle to go to Ætes, king of colchis. according to the poets they mounted on a ram, whose fleece was gold, which soared into the air, directing its course to colchis. helle became giddy, and falling into the sea (afterwards called the hellespont), was drowned. phryxus arrived at the court of Ætes, whose daughter chalciope he married. sometime afterwards he was killed by his father-in-law. the murder of phryxus gave rise to the famous argonautic expedition under jason, the object being to recover the golden fleece, which jason succeeded in obtaining. =phyl´lis.= a daughter of sithon, or, according to other writers, of lycurgus, king of thrace. she received demophoon, who landed on her coasts on his return from the trojan war, and fell in love with him, and he reciprocated her affection; but afterwards proving faithless, phyllis hanged herself, and according to an old tradition, was changed into an almond tree. =pi´cus.= king of latium, son of saturn, who married venilia. as he was hunting he was met by circe, who became enamored with him. she changed him into a woodpecker. =pier´ides.= a name given to the muses, because they were born in pieria, or, as some say, because they were supposed to be the daughters of pierus, a king of macedonia, who settled in boeotia. =pin´darus.= a celebrated lyric poet of thebes. when he was young it is said that a swarm of bees settled on his lips and left on them some honey, which was regarded as a prognostic of his future greatness. after his death great respect was shown to his memory, and a statue was erected in his honor in one of the most public places in thebes. pindar is said to have died at the age of eighty-six, b.c. . of his works, the odes only are extant; they are admired for sublimity of sentiment and grandeur of expression. =piræ´us.= a celebrated harbor at athens about three miles from the city. it was joined to the town by two walls, one built by pericles, and the other by themistocles. =pirith´ous.= son of ixion and dia, the daughter of deioneus. he was king of the lapithæ, and wished to become acquainted with theseus, king of athens, of whose fame and exploits he had heard. they became cordial friends. pirithous married hippodamia, and invited the centaurs to attend his nuptials, where, having become intoxicated, they behaved with great rudeness, on which they were attacked and overcome by theseus, pirithous, hercules, and the rest of the lapithæ. many of the centaurs were slain, and the rest saved their lives by flight. =pisan´der.= a commander in the spartan fleet during the peloponnesian war. he was greatly opposed to democracy at athens. he was killed in a naval battle near cnidus, b.c. . =pisis´tratus.= a celebrated athenian who distinguished himself by valor in the field and by eloquence at home. he obtained a bodyguard of fifty men to defend his person, and having thus got a number of armed men on whom he could rely, he seized the citadel of athens, and soon made himself absolute. after this a conspiracy was formed against him, and he was banished from the city. he soon, however, re-established himself in power, and married the daughter of megacles, one of his greatest enemies, whom he afterwards repudiated. on this his popularity waned, and he fled from athens, but after an absence of eleven years he returned, and was received by the people with acclamation. he died about years before the christian era. =pi´so.= a celebrated family at rome, eleven of whom had obtained the consulship, and some of whom had been honored with triumphs for their victories. of this family the most famous were--lucius calpurnius, who was tribune of the people about years before christ, and afterwards consul. he gained honor as an orator, a statesman, and a historian. caius, another of the family, distinguished himself during his consulship by his firmness in resisting the tumults raised by the tribunes and the clamors of the people. cenius, who was consul under augustus, rendered himself odious by his cruelty. he was accused of poisoning germanicus, and, being shunned by his friends, destroyed himself. lucius, a governor of spain, who was assassinated by a peasant. lucius, a governor of rome for twenty years, during which time he discharged his duties with moderation and justice. caius, who was at the head of a conspiracy against nero. he committed suicide by venesection. =pit´tacus=, a native of mitylene in lesbos, was one of the seven wise men of greece. he died in the eighty-second year of his age, about years b.c., the latter part of his life being spent in retirement. many of his maxims were inscribed on the walls of apollo's temple at delphi, to show how high an opinion his countrymen entertained of his abilities as a moralist and philosopher. =plau´cus l. muna´tius.= a roman conspicuous for his follies and extravagance. he had been consul, and had presided over a province, but he forgot his dignity, and became one of the most servile flatterers of antony and cleopatra. =platæ´a.= a town of boeotia, near mount citheron, celebrated as the scene of a battle between mardonius, the general of xerxes, king of persia, and pausanias, who commanded the athenians. the persians were defeated with great slaughter. =pla´to.= a celebrated philosopher of athens. he was educated carefully, his mind being cultivated by the study of poetry and geometry, whilst his body was invigorated by the practice of gymnastics. he began his literary career by writing poetry and tragedies. at the age of twenty he was introduced to socrates, with whom he was for some time a pupil. after traveling in various countries, he retired to the neighborhood of athens, where his lectures were attended by a crowd of learned, noble, and illustrious pupils. he died on his birthday in the eighty-first year of his age, about years before the christian era. his writings were so celebrated, and his opinions so highly regarded, that he was called the divine. =plau´tus, m. ac´cius.= a dramatic poet born in umbria. he wrote twenty-five comedies, of which only nineteen are extant. he died about years before the christian era. =plei´ades.= a name given to seven daughters of atlas and pleione. they were placed after death in the heavens, and formed a constellation. =plin´ius, c. secun´dus=, called the elder, was born at verona, of a noble family. he distinguished himself in the field, and was appointed governor of spain. when at misenum in command of the roman fleet, pliny observed the appearance of a cloud of dust and ashes, which was the commencement of the famous eruption of mount vesuvius which overwhelmed herculaneum and pompeii. he sailed for the scene of the eruption, where he was suffocated by the vapors emitted. this occurred in the seventy-ninth year of the christian era. =plin´ius, c. cæcil´ius secun´dus=, surnamed the younger pliny, was son of l. cæcilius by the sister of pliny the elder. at the age of nineteen he distinguished himself at the bar. when trajan was invested with the purple pliny was created consul. he died in the fifty-second year of his age, a.d. . pliny had much to do with the persecutions of the christians in the early promulgation of the christian religion. the rev. james copland, m. a., in an admirable little work entitled "reasons why we believe the bible," gives a very interesting letter from pliny to the emperor trajan, asking instructions how to deal with the christians when they were cited to appear before him. =plutar´chus=, the celebrated biographer, was born at chæronea, his father being distinguished for his learning and virtues. after traveling in quest of knowledge, he retired to rome, where he opened a school. subsequently he removed to chæronea, where he died at an advanced age about the th year of the christian era. his most esteemed work is the lives of illustrious men. =plu´to=, son of saturn and ops, inherited his father's kingdom with his brothers, jupiter and neptune. he received as his portion the kingdom of the infernal regions, of death, and funerals. he seized proserpine as she was gathering flowers, and carrying her away on his chariot, she became his wife and queen of the infernal regions. =plu´tus=, the god of riches, was the son of jason, or jasius, and ceres. =pol´lio, c. asin´ius.= a roman consul in the reign of augustus, who distinguished himself equally by his eloquence and exploits in war. he wrote a history and some tragedies, and died in his eightieth year, a.d. . =pol´lux.= a son of jupiter and leda, brother to castor. =polyb´ius.= a native of megalopolis. he distinguished himself by his valor against the romans in macedonia, he wrote an universal history in greek, and died about years b.c. =polydec´tes.= a son of magnes, king of seriphos. he received with kindness danae and her son perseus, who had been exposed on the sea. polydectes was turned into stone by being shown medusa's head by perseus. =polyhym´nia.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over singing and rhetoric. =polyni´ces.= a son of oedipus, king of thebes, and jocasta. he inherited his father's throne with his brother eteocles, and it was agreed that they should reign a year alternately. eteocles first ascended the throne, but refused to resign the crown. polynices upon this fled to argos, where he married argia, the daughter of adrastus, the king of the country, and levied an army with which he marched on thebes. the battle was decided by a combat between the brothers, who killed each other. =polyphe´mus.= a celebrated cyclops, son of neptune and thoosa, the daughter of phorcys. he is represented as a monster with one eye in the middle of his forehead. ulysses was his captive, but escaped by putting a firebrand in the monster's eye. =pomo´na.= a nymph at rome, who was supposed to preside over gardens and to be the goddess of fruit trees. =pompe´ii or pompei´um.= a town of campania. it was partly destroyed by an earthquake, a.d. , and sixteen years afterwards it was swallowed up by another earthquake. herculaneum, in its vicinity, shared the same fate. =pompe´ius, cnei´us=, surnamed magnus from his exploits, was son of pompeius strabo and lucilia. in the contentions which existed between marius and sylla, pompey linked himself with the latter. subsequently he united his interest with that of cæsar and crassus, thus forming the first triumvirate. a breach soon occurred, and at the great battle of pharsalia, where the forces of cæsar and pompey met, the latter was totally defeated, and fled to egypt, where he was assassinated in the fifty-eighth year of his age, b.c. . he left two sons, cneius and sextus, who at their father's death were masters of a powerful army, with which they opposed cæsar, but were defeated at the battle of munda, where cneius was slain. sextus escaped, and was put to death by antony about thirty-five years before the christian era. =por´cia.= a daughter of cato of utica, who married bibulus, and after his death brutus. she was distinguished for her prudence and courage. after her husband's death she killed herself by swallowing burning coals. she is said to have given herself a severe wound to show that she could bear pain. =porphyr´ius.= a platonic philosopher of tyre. he studied eloquence at athens under longinus, and afterwards retired to rome. his most celebrated work was in reference to the christian religion. porphyry died a.d. , aged seventy-one years. =porsen´na or por´sena.= a king of etruria, who declared war against the romans because they refused to restore tarquin to the throne; he was prevented from entering the gates of rome by the valor of p. horatius cocles, who at the head of a bridge kept back porsenna's army, whilst the bridge was being cut down by the romans to prevent the entry of their enemies into the city. eventually porsenna abandoned the cause of tarquin. =praxit´eles.= a famous sculptor of greece, who lived about years before the christian era. the most famous of his works was a cupid, which he gave to phyrne. he executed a statue of phyrne, and also one of venus. =pri´amus.= the last king of troy was son of laomedon, by strymo, called placia by some writers. he married arisba, whom he divorced in order to marry hecuba, by whom he had a number of children, the most celebrated of whom were hector, paris, deiphobus, helenus, laodice, and cassandra. after he had reigned some time, priam was anxious to recover his sister hesione, who had been carried into greece by hercules, and to achieve this, he manned a fleet, the command of which he gave to his son paris, who, instead of obeying the paternal instructions, carried away helen, the wife of menelaus, king of sparta. this caused the trojan war, which lasted for ten years. at the end of the war priam was slain by neoptolemus, the son of achilles. =pro´bus, m. aure´lius.= a native of pannonia. his father was a gardener, who became a military tribune. his son obtained the same office in the twenty-second year of his age, and distinguished himself so much by his probity and valor that he was invested with the imperial purple. he encouraged the arts, and by his victories added to the glory of his country. he was slain by his soldiers in the fiftieth year of his age, b.c. . =proco´pius=, born of a noble family in cilicia, was related to the emperor julian. he signalized himself under julian, and afterwards retired to the thracian chersonesus, whence he made his appearance at constantinople, and proclaimed himself master of the eastern empire. he was defeated in phrygia, and beheaded a.d. . there was a famous greek historian of the same name, who wrote the history of the reign of justinian, and who was secretary to belisarius. =prome´theus.= a son of iapetus and clymene, one of the oceanides. he ridiculed the gods and deceived jupiter himself, who, to punish him and the rest of mankind, took fire away from the earth; but prometheus climbed the heavens by the assistance of minerva, and stole fire from the chariot of the sun, which he brought down to the earth. this provoked jupiter, and he ordered prometheus to be chained to a rock, where a vulture was to feed on his liver, which was never exhausted. he was delivered from his torture by hercules, who killed the vulture. =proper´tius, sex´tus aure´lius.= a latin poet born in umbria. he came to rome, where his genius greatly recommended him to the great and powerful. his works consist of four books of elegies which are marked by much ability. he died about nineteen years b.c. =proser´pina=, a daughter of ceres and jupiter, called by the greeks persephone. as she was gathering flowers pluto carried her off to the infernal regions, where he married her. ceres, having learnt that her daughter had been carried away by pluto, demanded of jupiter that pluto should be punished. as queen of hell, proserpine presided over the death of mankind. she was known by the names of hecate, juno inferna, libitina, and several others. =protag´oras.= a greek philosopher of abdera in thrace. he wrote a book in which he denied the existence of a supreme being, which book was publicly burnt at athens, and its author was banished from the city. =pro´tesila´us.= a king of part of thessaly, who married laodamia, and shortly afterwards went to the trojan war. he was the first of the greeks who entered the trojan domain, and on that account, in accordance with the prediction of the oracle, was killed by his countrymen. =pro´teus.= a sea deity, son of oceanus and tethys, or, according to some writers, of neptune and phenice. he had received the gift of prophecy from neptune, but when consulted he often refused to give answers, and puzzled those who consulted him by assuming different shapes. =psy´che.= a nymph who married cupid. venus put her to death because of this, but jupiter, at the request of cupid, granted immortality to her. =ptolemæ´us= first, called ptolemy, surnamed lagus. a king of egypt, son of arsinoe and lagus. he was educated in the court of the king of macedonia, and when alexander invaded asia ptolemy attended him. after alexander's death ptolemy obtained the government of egypt, where he gained the esteem of the people by acts of kindness. he made himself master of phoenicia and syria, and rendered assistance to the people of rhodes against their enemies, for which he received the name of _soter_. he laid the foundation of a library, which became the most celebrated in the world. he died in his eighty-fourth year, about years b.c. he was succeeded by his son, ptolemy philadelphus, who showed himself to be a worthy successor of his father. his palace was an asylum for learned men, and he greatly increased the library his father had founded. ptolemy third succeeded his father philadelphus on the egyptian throne. he conquered syria and cilicia, and returned home laden with spoils. he was, like his predecessors, a patron of learning and the arts. ptolemy fourth, called philopater, succeeded to the throne, his reign being marked by acts of cruelty and oppression. he died in his thirty-seventh year, after a reign of seventeen years, years b.c. numerous members of this celebrated family in succession occupied the throne, not, however, approaching to the greatness of the founders of the family. =ptolemæ´us.= a celebrated geographer and astronomer in the reign of adrian and antoninus. he was a native of alexandria, or, as some say, of pelusium. in his system of the world, designated the ptolemaic system, he places the earth in the center of the universe, which was generally received as correct till it was confuted by copernicus. =pyr´rhus.= a famous king of epirus, son of Æacides and phthia. he is celebrated for his military talents; and not only his friends, but his enemies, have been warm in extolling him. he is said to have had no superior in the art of war. he wrote several books on encampments and the ways of training an army. he fought against the romans with much valor, and they passed encomiums on his great military skill. he was killed in an attack on argos, by a tile thrown on his head from a housetop. =pyr´rhus.= see neoptolemus. =pythag´oras.= a celebrated philosopher born at samos. he first made himself known in greece at the olympic games, where, when he was eighteen years old, he obtained the prize for wrestling. he also distinguished himself by his discoveries in geometry, astronomy, and mathematics. he was the first who supported the doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration of the soul into different bodies. he believed that the universe was created from a shapeless mass of passive matter by the hands of a powerful being, who was the mover and soul of the world, and of whose substance the souls of mankind were a portion. the time and place of death of this great philosopher are unknown, but some suppose that he died at metapontum about years b.c. =py´thon.= a celebrated serpent sprung from the mud and stagnated waters which remained on the surface of the earth after the deluge of deucalion. apollo killed the monster. =quintilia´nus, mar´cus fa´bius=, a celebrated rhetorician, born in spain. he opened a school of rhetoric at rome, and was the first who obtained a salary from the state as a public teacher. he died a.d. . =quin´tus cur´tius ru´fus.= a latin historian supposed to have lived in the reign of vespasian. he wrote a history of the reign of alexander the great. this work is admired for the elegance of its diction. =regil´lus.= a small lake in latium, famous as being the scene of a great roman victory, which forms the subject of a fine poem by lord macaulay, called "the battle of the lake regillus," included in his "lays of ancient rome." =reg´ulus, m. attil´ius.= a consul during the first punic war. he reduced brundusium, and in his second consulship he captured a great portion of the carthaginian fleet. after further successes he was taken prisoner by the carthaginians, who put him to death with refined tortures. =rhadaman´thus.= a son of jupiter and europa. he reigned in the cyclades, where his rule was characterized by marked justice and impartiality. =rom´ulus.= according to tradition the founder of rome. he was a son of mars and ilia, and was twin brother of remus. the twins were thrown into the tiber, but were saved and suckled by a she-wolf till they were found by fautulus, a shepherd, who brought them up. disputes arising between the brothers in reference to the building of the city, romulus caused remus to be slain. =ros´cius.= a celebrated roman actor. he died about years b.c. =ru´bicon.= a small river in italy. by crossing it, and thus transgressing the boundaries of his province, cæsar declared war against the senate and pompey. "passing the rubicon" has become a proverbial expression, indicating an irrevocable step taken in any weighty matter. =sa´cra, vi´a.= an important street in rome, where a treaty of peace was made between romulus and tatius. =sal´amis.= an island of attica celebrated for a battle fought there between the fleets of the greeks and the persians, in which the latter suffered defeat. =sallus´tius cris´pus.= a celebrated latin historian. he wrote a history of the catalinian conspiracy, and died thirty-five years before the christian era. =sanchoni´athon.= a phoenician historian born at berytus, or, as some say, at tyre. he lived a few years before the trojan war; and wrote on the antiquities of phoenicia. =sa´por.= a king of persia, who succeeded to the throne about the th year of the christian era. he wished to increase his dominions by conquest, but was defeated by odenatus, who defeated his army with great slaughter. he was assassinated a.d. . =sa´por.= the second king of persia of that name. he fought against the romans, and obtained several victories over them. died a.d. . =sap´pho=, celebrated for her beauty and poetical talents, was born at lesbos about years before christ. she became enamored with phaon, a youth of mitylene, but he not reciprocating her passion, she threw herself into the sea from the rock of leucadia. =sardanapa´lus.= the last king of assyria, celebrated for his luxury and indolence. his effeminacy induced his subjects to conspire against him with success, on which he set fire to his palace and perished in the flames, b.c. . =satur´nus.= the son of coelus, or uranus, by terra. it was customary to offer human victims on his altars till this custom was abolished by hercules. he is generally represented as an old man bent with age, and holding a scythe in his right hand. =sat´yri.= demigods whose origin is unknown. they had the feet and legs of a goat, their body bearing the human form. =scævola, mu´tius=, surnamed cordus, was famous for his courage. he attempted to assassinate porsenna, but was seized; and to show his fortitude when confronted with porsenna, he thrust his hand into the fire, on which the king pardoned him. =scip´io.= the name of a celebrated family at rome, the most conspicuous of which was publius cornelius, afterwards called africanus. he was the son of publius scipio, and commanded an army against the carthaginians. after obtaining some victories he encountered hannibal at the famous battle of zama, in which he obtained a decisive victory. he died about years before christ, in his forty-eighth year. =scip´io, lu´cius corne´lius=, surnamed asiaticus, accompanied his brother africanus in his expedition in africa. he was made consul a.u.c. , and sent to attack antiochus, king of syria, whom he completely routed. he was accused of receiving bribes of antiochus, and was condemned to pay large fines which reduced him to poverty. =scip´io, p. Æmilia´nus.= called africanus the younger. he finished the war with carthage, the total submission of which occurred b.c. . the captive city was set on fire, and scipio was said to have wept bitterly over the melancholy scene. on his return to rome he was appointed to conclude the war against numantia, the fall of which soon occurred, and scipio had numantinus added to his name. he was found dead in his bed, and was presumed to have been strangled, b.c. . =sem´ele.= a daughter of cadmus and hermione, the daughter of mars and venus. she was the mother of bacchus. after death she was made immortal under the name of thyone. =semir´amis.= a celebrated queen of assyria, who married the governor of nineveh, and at his death she became the wife of king ninus. she caused many improvements to be effected in her kingdom, as well as distinguishing herself as a warrior. she is supposed to have lived years before the christian era. =sen´eca, l. annæ´us=, at an early period of his life, was distinguished by his talents. he became preceptor to nero, in which capacity he gained general approbation. the tyrant, however, determined to put him to death, and he chose to have his veins opened in a hot bath, but death not ensuing, he swallowed poison, and was eventually suffocated by the soldiers who were in attendance. this occurred in his fifty-third year, and in the sixty-fifth of the christian era. his works, which were numerous, were chiefly on moral subjects. =sera´pis.= one of the egyptian deities, supposed to be the same as osiris. he had a magnificent temple at memphis, another at alexandria, and a third at canopus. =sesos´tris.= a celebrated king of egypt, who lived long prior to the trojan war. he was ambitious of military fame, and achieved many conquests. on his return from his victories he employed himself in encouraging the fine arts. he destroyed himself after a reign of forty-four years. =seve´rus, lu´cius septim´ius.= a roman emperor, born in africa, noticeable for his ambition. he invaded britain, and built a wall in the north as a check to the incursions of the caledonians. he died at york in the th year of the christian era. =sile´nus.= a demigod, who is represented generally as a fat old man riding on an ass, with flowers crowning his head. =sil´ius ital´icus, c.= a latin poet who retired from the bar to consecrate his time to study. he imitated virgil, but with little success. his poetry, however, is commended for its purity. =simon´ides.= a celebrated poet of cos, who lived b.c. years. he wrote elegies, epigrams, and dramatic pieces, esteemed for their beauty. =sire´nes.= the sirens. they lured to destruction those who listened to their songs. when ulysses sailed past their island he stopped the ears of his companions with wax, and had himself tied to the mast of his ship. thus he passed with safety, and the sirens, disappointed of their prey, drowned themselves. =sis´yphus.= son of Æolus and enaretta. after death he was condemned, in the infernal regions, to roll a stone to the summit of a hill, which always rolled back, and rendered his punishment eternal. =soc´rates.= the most celebrated philosopher of antiquity, born near athens, whose virtues rendered his name venerated. his independence of spirit created for him many enemies, and he was accused of making innovations in the religion of the greeks. he was condemned to death by drinking hemlock, and expired a few moments after imbibing the poison, in his seventieth year, b.c. . his wife was xanthippe, remarkable for her shrewish disposition, for which her name has become proverbial. =so´lon=, one of the wise men of greece, was born at salamis, and educated at athens. after traveling over greece he returned, and was elected archon and sovereign legislator, in which capacity he effected numerous reforms in the state, binding the athenians by a solemn oath to observe the laws he enacted for one hundred years. after this he visited egypt, and on returning to athens after ten years' absence, he found most of his regulations disregarded by his countrymen. on this he retired to cyprus, where he died in his eightieth year, years before the christian era. =som´nus=, son of nox and erebus, was one of the infernal deities and presided over sleep. =soph´ocles.= a celebrated tragic poet of athens. he was distinguished also as a statesman, and exercised the office of archon with credit and honor. he wrote for the stage, and obtained the poetical prize on twenty different occasions. he was the rival of euripides for public applause, each having his admirers. he died at the age of ninety-one, years before christ. =sophonis´ba.= a daughter of hasdrubal, the carthaginian, celebrated for her beauty. she married syphax, prince of numidia, and when he was conquered by the romans she became a captive to their ally, the numidian general masinissa, whom she married. this displeased the romans, and scipio ordered masinissa to separate from sophonisba, and she, urged to this by masinissa, took poison, about years before christ. =soz´omen.= a historian who died a.d. he wrote an important work on ecclesiastical history. =sphinx.= a monster, having the head and breasts of a woman, the body of a dog, the tail of a serpent, the wings of a bird, and the paws of a lion. the sphinx was sent into the neighborhood of thebes by juno, where she propounded enigmas, devouring those who were unable to solve them. one of the riddles proposed was--what animal walked on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening? oedipus solved it, giving as the meaning--a man, who when an infant crawled on his hands and feet, walking erect in manhood, and in the evening of life supporting himself with a stick. on hearing the solution the sphinx destroyed herself. =stagi´ra.= a town on the borders of macedonia, where aristotle was born; hence he is called the stagirite. =sta´tius, p. papin´us.= a poet, born at naples in the reign of domitian. he was the author of two epic poems, the thebais, in twelve books, and the achilleis, in two books. =sten´tor.= one of the greeks who went to the trojan war. he was noted for the loudness of his voice, and from him the term "stentorian" has become proverbial. =sto´ici.= a celebrated sect of philosophers founded by zeno. they preferred virtue to all other things, and regarded everything opposed to it as an evil. =stra´bo.= a celebrated geographer, born at amasia, on the borders of cappadocia. he flourished in the age of augustus. his work on geography consists of seventeen books, and is admired for its purity of diction. =styx.= a celebrated river of the infernal regions. the gods held it in such veneration that they always swore by it, the oath being inviolable. =sueto´nius, c. tranquil´lus.= a latin historian who became secretary to adrian. his best known work is his lives of the cæsars. =sul´la.= see sylla. =syb´aris.= a town on the bay of tarentum. its inhabitants were distinguished by their love of ease and pleasure, hence the term "sybarite." =syl´la= (or =sulla=), =l. corne´lius=. a celebrated roman, of a noble family, who rendered himself conspicuous in military affairs; and became antagonistic to marius. in the zenith of his power he was guilty of the greatest cruelty. his character is that of an ambitious, tyrannical, and resolute commander. he died about seventy years before christ, aged sixty. =sy´phax.= a king of the masæsyllii in numidia, who married sophonisba, the daughter of hasdrubal. he joined the carthaginians against the romans, and was taken by scipio as a prisoner to rome, where he died in prison. =tac´itus, c. corne´lius.= a celebrated latin historian, born in the reign of nero. of all his works the "annals" is the most extensive and complete. his style is marked by force, precision, and dignity, and his latin is remarkable for being pure and classical. =tac´itus, m. clau´dius.= a roman, elected emperor by the senate when he was seventy years of age. he displayed military vigor, and as a ruler was a pattern of economy and moderation. he died in the th year of the christian era. =tan´talus.= a king of lydia, father of niobe and pelops. he is represented by the poets as being, in the infernal regions, placed in a pool of water which flowed from him whenever he attempted to drink, thus causing him to suffer perpetual thirst; hence the origin of the term "tantalizing." =tarquin´ius pris´cus=, the fifth king of rome, was son of demaratus, a native of greece. he exhibited military talents in the victories he gained over the sabines. during peace he devoted attention to the improvement of the capital. he was assassinated in his eightieth year, years b.c. =tarquin´ius super´bus.= he ascended the throne of rome after servius tullius, whom he murdered, and married his daughter tullia. his reign was characterized by tyranny, and eventually he was expelled from rome, surviving his disgrace for fourteen years, and dying in his ninetieth year. =tar´tarus.= one of the regions of hell, where, according to virgil, the souls of those who were exceptionally depraved were punished. =telem´achus.= son of penelope and ulysses. at the end of the trojan war he went in search of his father, whom, with the aid of minerva, he found. aided by ulysses he delivered his mother from the suitors that beset her. =tem´pe.= a valley in thessaly through which the river peneus flows into the Ægean. it is described by the poets as one of the most delightful places in the world. =teren´tius pub´lius= (=terence=). a native of africa, celebrated for the comedies he wrote. he was twenty-five years old when his first play was produced on the roman stage. terence is admired for the purity of his language and the elegance of his diction. he is supposed to have been drowned in a storm about b.c. =te´reus.= a king of thrace who married procne, daughter of pandion, king of athens. he aided pandion in a war against megara. =terpsich´ore.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over dancing. =tertullia´nus, j. septim´ius flor´ens.= a celebrated christian writer of carthage, who lived a.d. . he was originally a pagan, but embraced christianity, of which faith he became an able advocate. =tha´is.= a celebrated woman of athens, who accompanied alexander the great in his asiatic conquests. =tha´les.= one of the seven wise men of greece, born at miletus in ionia. his discoveries in astronomy were great, and he was the first who calculated with accuracy a solar eclipse. he died about years before the christian era. =thali´a.= one of the muses. she presided over festivals and comic poetry. =themis´tocles.= a celebrated general born at athens. when xerxes invaded greece, themistocles was intrusted with the care of the fleet, and at the famous battle of salamis, fought b.c. , the greeks, instigated to fight by themistocles, obtained a complete victory over the formidable navy of xerxes. he died in the sixty-fifth year of his age, having, as some writers affirm, poisoned himself by drinking bull's blood. =theoc´ritus.= a greek poet who lived at syracuse in sicily, b.c. he distinguished himself by his poetical compositions, of which some are extant. =theodo´sius, fla´vius.= a roman emperor surnamed _magnus_ from the greatness of his exploits. the first years of his reign were marked by conquests over the barbarians. in his private character theodosius was an example of temperance. he died in his sixtieth year, a.d. , after a reign of sixteen years. =theodo´sius second= became emperor of the western roman empire at an early age. his territories were invaded by the persians, but on his appearance at the head of a large force they fled, losing a great number of their army in the euphrates. theodosius was a warm advocate of the christian religion. he died, aged forty-nine, a.d. . =theophras´tus.= a native of lesbos. diogenes enumerates the titles of more than treatises which he wrote. he died in his th year, b.c. . =thermop´ylæ.= a narrow pass leading from thessaly into locris and phocis, celebrated for a battle fought there, b.c. , between xerxes and the greeks, in which three hundred spartans, commanded by leonidas, resisted for three successive days an enormous persian army. =thersi´tes.= a deformed greek, in the trojan war, who indulged in ridicule against ulysses and others. achilles killed him because he laughed at his grief for the death of penthesilea. shakspeare, who introduced thersites in his play of "troilus and cressida," describes him as "a deformed and scurrilous grecian." =the´seus=, king of athens and son of Ægeus by Æthra, was one of the most celebrated heroes of antiquity. he caught the bull of marathon and sacrificed it to minerva. after this he went to crete amongst the seven youths sent yearly by the athenians to be devoured by the minotaur, and by the aid of ariadne he slew the monster. he ascended his father's throne b.c. . pirithous, king of the lapithæ, invaded his territories, but the two became firm friends. they descended into the infernal regions to carry off proserpine, but their intentions were frustrated by pluto. after remaining for some time in the infernal regions, theseus returned to his kingdom to find the throne filled by an usurper, whom he vainly tried to eject. he retired to scyros, where he was killed by a fall from a precipice. =thes´pis.= a greek poet of attica, supposed to be the inventor of tragedy, b.c. . he went from place to place upon a cart, on which he gave performances. hence the term "thespians" as applied to wandering actors. =the´tis.= a sea deity, daughter of nereus and doris. she married peleus, their son being achilles, whom she plunged into the styx, thus rendering him invulnerable in every part of his body except the heel by which she held him. =this´be.= a beautiful girl of babylon, beloved by pyramus. =thrasybu´lus.= a famous general of athens, who, with the help of a few associates, expelled the thirty tyrants, b.c. . he was sent with a powerful fleet to recover the athenian power on the coast of asia, and after gaining many advantages, was killed by the people of aspendos. =thucid´ydes.= a celebrated greek historian born at athens. he wrote a history of the events connected with the peloponnesian war. he died at athens in his eightieth year, b.c. . =tibe´rius, clau´dius ne´ro.= a roman emperor descended from the claudii. in his early years he entertained the people with magnificent shows and gladiatorial exhibitions, which made him popular. at a later period of his life he retired to the island of capreæ, where he indulged in vice and debauchery. he died aged seventy-eight, after a reign of twenty-two years. =tibul´lus, au´lus al´bius.= a roman knight celebrated for his poetical compositions. his favorite occupation was writing love poems. four books of elegies are all that remain of his compositions. =timo´leon.= a celebrated corinthian, son of timodemus and demariste. when the syracusans, oppressed with the tyranny of dionysius the younger, solicited aid from the corinthians, timoleon sailed for syracuse with a small fleet. he was successful in the expedition, and dionysius gave himself up as a prisoner. timoleon died at syracuse, amidst universal regret. =ti´mons.= a native of athens, called the misanthrope from his aversion to mankind. he is the hero of shakspeare's play of "timon of athens" in which his churlish character is powerfully delineated. =timo´theus.= a famous musician in the time of alexander the great. dryden names him in his well-known ode, "alexander's feast." =tire´sias.= a celebrated prophet of thebes. juno deprived him of sight, and, to recompense him for the loss, jupiter bestowed on him the gift of prophecy. =tisiph´one.= one of the furies, daughter of nox and acheron. =tita´nes.= the titans. a name given to the gigantic sons of coelus and terra. the most conspicuous of them are saturn, hyperion, oceanus, iapetus, cottus, and briareus. =ti´tus vespasia´nus.= son of vespasian and flavia domitilla, known by his valor, particularly at the siege of jerusalem. he had been distinguished for profligacy, but on assuming the purple, he became a model of virtue. his death, which occasioned great lamentations, occurred a.d. , in the forty-first year of his age. =traja´nus, m. ul´pius crini´tus.= a roman emperor born at ithaca. his services to the empire recommended him to the notice of the emperor nerva, who adopted him as his son, and invested him with the purple. the actions of trajan were those of a benevolent prince. he died in cilicia, in august a.d. , in his sixty-fourth year, and his ashes were taken to rome and deposited under a stately column which he had erected. =tribu´ni ple´bi.= magistrates at rome created in the year, u.c. . the office of tribune to the people was one of the first steps which led to more honorable employments. =triptol´emus.= son of oceanus and terra, or, according to some authorities, son of celeus, king of attica, and neæra. he was in his youth cured of a severe illness by ceres, with whom he became a great favorite. she taught him agriculture, and gave him her chariot drawn by dragons, in which he traveled over the earth, distributing corn to the inhabitants. =tri´ton.= a sea deity, son of neptune and amphitrite. he was very powerful, and could calm the sea and abate storms at his pleasure. =trium´viri.= three magistrates appointed to govern the roman state with absolute power. =tul´lus hostil´ius= succeeded numa as king of rome. he was of a warlike disposition, and distinguished himself by his expedition against the people of alba, whom he conquered. =typhoe´us=, or =ty´phon=. a famous giant, son of tartarus and terra, who had a hundred heads. he made war against the gods, and was put to flight by the thunderbolts of jupiter, who crushed him under mount Ætna. =tyrtæ´us.= a greek elegiac poet born in attica. of his compositions none are extant except a few fragments. =ulys´ses.= the famous king of ithaca, son of anticlea and laertes (or, according to some, of sisyphus). he married penelope, daughter of icarius, on which his father resigned to him the crown. he went to the trojan war, where he was esteemed for his sagacity. on the conclusion of the war he embarked for greece, but was exposed to numerous misfortunes on his journey. in his wanderings, he, with some of his companions, was seized by the cyclops, polyphemus, from whom he made his escape. afterwards he was thrown on the island of Æea, where he was exposed to the wiles of the enchantress circe. eventually he was restored to his own country, after an absence of twenty years. the adventures of ulysses on his return from the trojan war form the subject of homer's odyssey. =ura´nia.= one of the muses, daughter of jupiter and mnemosyne. she presided over astronomy. =valentinia´nus= the first. son of gratian, raised to the throne by his merit and valor. he obtained victories over the barbarians in gaul and in africa, and punished the quadi with severity. he broke a blood-vessel and died, a.d. . immediately after his death, his son, valentinian the second, was proclaimed emperor. he was robbed of his throne by maximus, but regained it by the aid of theodosius, emperor of the east. he was strangled by one of his officers. he was remarkable for benevolence and clemency. the third valentinian was made emperor in his youth, and on coming to maturer age he disgraced himself by violence and oppression. he was murdered a.d. . =valeria´nus, pub´lius licin´ius.= a celebrated roman emperor, who, on ascending the throne, lost the virtues he had previously possessed. he made his son gallienus his colleague in the empire. he made war against the goths and scythians. he was defeated in battle and made prisoner by tapor, king of persia, who put him to death by torture. =var´ro.= a latin author, celebrated for his great learning. he wrote no less than five hundred volumes, but all his works are lost except a treatise de re rusticâ, and another de linguâ latinâ he died b.c. , in his eighty-eighth year. =ve´nus.= one of the most celebrated deities of the ancients; the goddess of beauty, and mother of love. she sprang from the foam of the sea, and was carried to heaven, where all the gods admired her beauty. jupiter gave her in marriage to vulcan, but she intrigued with some of the gods, and, notably, with mars, their offspring being hermione, cupid, and anteros. she became enamored of adonis, which caused her to abandon olympus. her contest for the golden apple, which she gained against her opponents juno and minerva, is a prominent episode in mythology. she had numerous names applied to her, conspicuous amongst which may be named anadyomene, under which cognomen she is distinguished by the picture, representing her as rising from the ocean, by apelles. she was known under the grecian name of aphrodite. =vespasia´nus ti´tus fla´vius.= a roman emperor of obscure descent. he began the siege of jerusalem, which was continued by his son titus. he died a.d. , in his seventieth year. =ves´ta.= a goddess, daughter of rhea and saturn. the palladium, a celebrated statue of pallas, was supposed to be preserved within her sanctuary, where a fire was kept continually burning. =vesta´les.= the vestals, priestesses consecrated to the service of vesta. they were required to be of good families and free from blemish and deformity. one of their chief duties was to see that the sacred fire of vesta was not extinguished. =virgil´ius, pub´lius ma´ro=, called the prince of the latin poets, was born at andes, near mantua, about seventy years before christ. he went to rome, where he formed an acquaintance with mæcenas, and recommended himself to augustus. his bucolics were written in about three years, and subsequently he commenced the georgics, which is considered one of the most perfect of all latin compositions. the Æneid is supposed to have been undertaken at the request of augustus. virgil died in his fifty-first year b.c. . =virgin´ia.= daughter of the centurion l. virginius. she was slain by her father to save her from the violence of the decemvir, appius claudius. =virgin´ius.= a valiant roman, father of virginia. (see virginia.) the story of virginius and his ill-fated daughter is the subject of the well-known tragedy of "virginius," one of the early productions of j. sheridan knowles. it is rarely performed in the present day. =vulca´nus.= the god who presided over fire, and who was the patron of those who worked in iron. according to homer, he was the son of jupiter and juno, and was so deformed, that at his birth his mother threw him into the sea, where he remained nine years; but other writers differ from this opinion. he married venus at the instigation of jupiter. he is known by the name of mulciber. the cyclopes were his attendants, and with them he forged the thunderbolts of jupiter. =xanthip´pe= or =xantip´pe=. the wife of socrates, remarkable for her ill-humor and fretful disposition. she was a constant torment to her husband, and on one occasion, after bitterly reviling him, she emptied a vessel of dirty water on him, on which the philosopher coolly remarked, "after thunder rain generally falls." =xenoc´rates.= an ancient philosopher born at calcedonia, and educated in the school of plato, whose friendship he gained. died b.c. . =xen´ophon.= a celebrated athenian, son of gryllus, famous as a general, philosopher, and historian. he joined cyrus the younger in an expedition against artaxerxes, king of persia, and after the decisive battle of cunaxa, in which cyrus was defeated and killed, the skill and bravery of xenophon became conspicuous. he had to direct an army of ten thousand greeks, who were now more than six hundred leagues from home, and in a country surrounded by an active enemy. he rose superior to all difficulties till the celebrated "retreat of the ten thousand" was effected; the greeks returning home after a march of two hundred and fifteen days. xenophon employed his pen in describing the expedition of cyrus, in his work the "anabasis." he also wrote the "cyropædia," "memorabilia," "hellenica," etc. he died at corinth in his ninetieth year, about years before the christian era. =xer´xes= succeeded his father darius on the throne of persia. he entered greece with an immense army, which was checked at thermopylæ by the valor of three hundred spartans under king leonidas, who, for three successive days, successfully opposed the enormous forces of xerxes, and were at last slaughtered. from this period the fortunes of xerxes waned. his fleet being defeated at salamis, and mortified with ill-success, he hastened to persia, where he gave himself up to debauchery, and was murdered in the twenty-first year of his reign, about years before the christian era. =za´ma.= a town of numidia, celebrated as the scene of the victory of scipio over hannibal, b.c. . =ze´no=, a celebrated philosopher, the founder of the sect of stoics, was born at citium in cyprus. he opened a school in athens, and soon became noticed by the great and learned. his life was devoted to sobriety and moderation. he died at the age of ninety-eight, b.c. . =ze´no.= a philosopher of elea or velia, in italy. he was the disciple, or, according to some, the adopted son of parmenides. being tortured to cause him to reveal his confederates in a plot he had engaged in, he bit off his tongue that he might not betray his friends. =zeno´bia.= a celebrated princess of palmyra, the wife of odenatus. after her husband's death, the roman emperor aurelian declared war against her. she took the field with seven hundred thousand men, and though at first successful, she was eventually conquered. aurelian, when she became his prisoner, treated her with great humanity and consideration. she was admired for her literary talents as well as her military abilities. =zeux´is.= a celebrated painter born at heraclea. he flourished years before the christian era. he painted some grapes so naturally that the birds came to peck them on the canvas; but he was disgusted with the picture, because the man painted as carrying the grapes was not natural enough to frighten the birds. =zo´ilus.= a sophist and grammarian of amphipolis, b.c. . he became known by his severe criticisms on the works of isocrates and homer. =zoroas´ter.= a king of bactria, supposed to have lived in the age of ninus, king of assyria, some time before the trojan war. he rendered himself known by his deep researches in philosophy. he admitted no visible object of devotion except fire, which he considered the proper emblem of a supreme being. he was respected by his subjects and contemporaries for his abilities as a monarch, a lawgiver, and a philosopher, and though many of his doctrines may be deemed puerile, he had many disciples. the religion of the parsees of the present day was founded by zoroaster. =zos´imus.= a greek historian who lived about the year of the christian era. he wrote a history of some of the roman emperors, which is characterized by graceful diction, but he indulges in malevolent and vituperative attacks on the christians in his history of constantine. a list of common abbreviations of words used in writing and printing. =a =, first class. =a= or =aa= (gr. _ana_), in _med._, of each the same quantity. =a.b.=, bachelor of arts. =a.d.= (l. _anno domini_), in the year of our lord. =ad lib.=, or =ad libit.= (l. _ad libitum_), at pleasure. =Æ.=, =Æt.= (l. _ætatis_), of age; aged. =a.m.= (l. _artium magister_), master of arts. =a.m.= (l. _ante meridiem_), before noon. =a.m.= (l. _anno mundi_), in the year of the world. =anon.=, anonymous. =a.r.a.=, associate of the royal academy. =a.r.s.a.=, associate of the royal scottish academy. =a.r.s.s.= (l. _antiquariorum regiæ societatis socius_), fellow of the royal society of antiquaries. =as.=, anglo-saxon. =a.u.c.= (l. _anno urbis conditæ_, or _anno ab urbe conditâ_), in the year of, or from the building of the city, viz., rome. =b.a.=, bachelor of arts. =bart.= or =bt.=, baronet. =b.c.=, before christ. =b.c.l.=, bachelor of civil law. =b.d.=, bachelor of divinity. =b.ll.=, also =ll.b.=, bachelor of laws. =b.sc.=, bachelor of science. =b.s.l.=, botanical society of london. =c.= (l. _centum_), a hundred. =cantab.= (l. _cantabrigiensis_), of cambridge. =cantuar.=, canterbury. =cap.= (l. _caput_, the head), chapter; =cap.=, capital; =cap.=, a capital letter; =caps.=, capital letters. =c.b.=, companion of the bath. =c.e.=, civil engineer. =cent.= (l. _centum_), a hundred. =cf.= (l. _confer_), compare. =chap.=, chapter. =con.= (l. _contra_), against; in opposition. =cos.=, cosine. =cres.=, crescendo. =crim. con.=, criminal conversation; adultery. =ct.=, cent; also (l. _centum_), a hundred. =curt.=, current--that is, in this period of time, as month, year, or century. =cwt.= (_c._ for l. _centum_, a hundred; _wt._ for eng. weight), a hundred-weight. =d.c.= (it. _da capo_), in _music_, again; from the beginning. =d.c.l.=, doctor of civil or canon law. =d.d.= (l. _divinitatis doctor_), doctor of divinity. =d.g.= (l. _dei gratiâ_), by the grace of god; (l. _deo gratias_), thanks to god. =do.= or =do.=, the same. =doz.=, dozen. =dr.=, doctor; debtor. =d.s.= (it. _dal segno_), from the sign. =d.sc.=, doctor of science. =dunelm.=, durham. =d.v.= (l. _deo volente_), god willing. =dwt.= (l. _denarius_, a silver coin, a penny; and first and last letters of eng. _weight_), pennyweight. =ebor.= (l. _ebor[)a]cum_), york. =e.c.=, established church. =ed.=, editor. =e.e.=, errors excepted. =e.g.=, (l. _exempli gratiâ_, for the sake of example), for example; for instance. =e.i.=, east indies; east india. =e.i.c.=, east india company; =e.i.c.s.=, east india company's service. =e. long.=, east longitude. =e.n.e.=, east-north-east. =e.s.e.=, east-south-east. =esq.= or =esqr.=, esquire. =etc.= (l. _et cætera_), &c.; and others; and so forth. =et seq.= (l. _et sequentia_), and the following. =ex.=, example; exception; =ex=, "out of," as, a cargo _ex_ maria. =exch.=, exchequer; exchange. =exon.= (l. _exonia_), exeter. =f.=, feminine; farthing or farthings; foot or feet. =fahr.=, fahrenheit. =far.=, farriery; farthing. =f.a.s.=, fellow of the society of arts. =f.a.s.e.=, fellow of the antiquarian society, edinburgh. =f.b.s.e.=, fellow of the botanical society of edinburgh. =f.c.=, free church. =fcp.=, foolscap. =f.d.= (l. _fidei defensor_), defender of the faith. =f.e.i.s.=, fellow of the educational institute of scotland. =f.e.s.=, fellow of the entomological society; fellow of the ethnological society. =f.g.s.=, fellow of the geological society. =f.h.s.=, fellow of the horticultural society. =fl.=, flemish; florida; florin. =f.l.s.=, fellow of the linnæan society. =f.m.=, field-marshal. =fo.=, =fol.=, folio. =f.p.=, fire-plug. =f.p.s.=, fellow of the philological society. =fr.=, france; french. =f.r.a.s.=, fellow of the royal astronomical society. =f.r.c.p.=, fellow of the royal college of preceptors, or of physicians. =f.r.c.p.e.=, fellow of the royal college of physicians, edinburgh. =f.r.c.s.=, fellow of the royal college of surgeons. =f.r.c.s.e.=, fellow of the royal college of surgeons, edinburgh. =f.r.c.s.i.=, fellow of the royal college of surgeons, ireland. =f.r.c.s.l.=, fellow of the royal college of surgeons, london. =f.r.g.s.=, fellow of the royal geographical society. =f.r.s.=, fellow of the royal society. =f.r.s.e.=, fellow of the royal society, edinburgh. =f.r.s.l.=, fellow of the royal society of literature. =f.s.a.=, fellow of the society of arts, or of antiquaries: =f.s.a., scot.=, an f.s.a. of scotland. =ft.=, foot or feet. =f.t.c.d.=, fellow of trinity college, dublin. =f.z.a.=, fellow of the zoological academy. =g.a.=, general assembly. =g.c.b.=, knight grand cross of the bath. =g.p.o.=, general post-office. =gtt.= (l. _gutta_ or _guttæ_), a drop or drops. =h.b.c.=, hudson bay company. =h.e.i.c.=, honorable east india company. =h.g.=, horse guards. =hhd.=, hogshead; hogsheads. =h.i.h.=, his (or her) imperial highness. =h.m.s.=, her (or his) majesty's steamer, ship, or service. =h.r.h.=, his (or her) royal highness. =h.s.s.= (l. _historiæ societatis socius_), fellow of the historical society. =ib.=, =ibid.= (l. _ibidem_), in the same place. =id.= (l. _idem_), the same. =i. e.= (l. _id est_), that is. =i.h.s.= (l. _iesus hominum salvator_), jesus the saviour of men. =incog.= (l. _incognito_), unknown. =in lim.= (l. _in limine_), at the outset. =in loc.= (l. _in loco_), in its place. =inst.=, instant--that is, the present month. =in trans.= (l. _in transitu_), on the passage. =i.o.u.=, three letters being identical in sound with the three words "i owe you,"--written as a simple acknowledgment for money lent, followed by sum and signature. =ir.=, ireland; irish. =i.q.= (l. _idem quod_), the same as. =j.p.=, justice of the peace. =k.c.b.=, knight commander of the bath (great britain). =k.g.=, knight of the garter (great britain). =k.g.c.=, knight of the grand cross (great britain). =k.g.c.b.=, knight of the grand cross of the bath (great britain). =knt.=, knight. =k.p.=, knight of st. patrick (ireland). =kt.= or =knt.=, knight. =k.t.=, knight of the thistle (scotland). =k.s.e.=, knight of the star of the east. =l.= or =lb.= (l. _libra_), a pound in weight. =lat.=, latitude, n. or s. =lb.=--see =l.= =leg.= (it. _legato_), smoothly. =l.g.=, life guards. =lib.= (l. _liber_), a book. =linn.=, linnæus; linnæan. =ll.b.=, (l. _legum_, of laws, and _baccalaureus_, bachelor), bachelor of laws, an academic title. =ll.d.=, (l. _legum_, of laws, and _doctor_, doctor), doctor of laws, an academic title, higher than ll.b. =long.=, longitude, e. or w. =l.s.d.=, or =£ s. d.= (said to be from l. _libra_, a balance, a pound in weight; _solidus_, a coin of the value of denarii, subsequently only a half of that value; and _denarius_, a silver coin worth about - / d. eng.), pounds, shillings, pence--that is, in any written statement of money, l. is put over pounds, s. over shillings, and d. over pence; in _printing_, £ for l. is put before the sum, as £ , s. and d. in single letter, after, as s. d. =m.= (l. _mille_), a thousand. =m.a.= (l. _magister artium_), master of arts, an academic title. =m.c.s.=, madras civil service. =m.d.=, (l. _medicinæ_, of medicine, _doctor_, doctor), doctor of medicine. =m.e.=, mining engineer. =mdlle.= (f. _mademoiselle_), miss. =mme.= (f. _madame_), madam. =mons.= (f. _monsieur_), mr.; sir. =m.p.=, member of parliament. =m.p.s.=, member of the philological society; member of the pharmaceutical society. =m.r.a.s.=, member of the royal asiatic society; member of the royal academy of science. =m.r.c.p.=, member of the royal college of preceptors, or of physicians. =m.r.c.s.=, member of the royal college of surgeons. =m.r.g.s.=, member of the royal geographical society. =ms.=, manuscript; =mss.=, manuscripts. =mus. b.=, bachelor of music; =mus. d.=, doctor of music. =n.b.=, north british; north britain, that is scotland; new brunswick; (l. _nota_, note, _bene_, well), note well, or take notice. =n.e.=, north-east; new england. =n.n.e.=, north-north-east. =n.n.w.=, north-north-west. =non obst.= (l. _non_, not, _obstante_, standing over against, withstanding), notwithstanding. =non pros.= (l. _non_, not, _prosequitur_, he follows after, he prosecutes), he does not prosecute--applied to a judgment entered against a plaintiff who does not appear. =non seq.= (l. _non_, not, _sequitur_, it follows), it does not follow. =n.p.=, notary public. =n.s.=, new style; nova scotia. =n.t.=, new testament. =n.w.=, north-west. =ob.= (l. _obiit_), he died. =obs.=, obsolete. =o.s.=, old style. =oxon.= (l. _oxonia_), oxford. =oz.=, ounce. =p.=, page; =pp.=, pages. =p.c.=, privy council or councillor. =p.d.= or =ph.d.=, doctor of philosophy. =per an.= (l. _per annum_), by the year. =per cent.= (l. _per_, by; _centum_, a hundred,) by the hundred. =pinx., pxt.= (l. _pinxit_), he or she painted it. =p.m.=, postmaster; (l. _post meridiem_), afternoon. =p.m.g.=, postmaster-general. =p.o.=, post-office; =p.o.o.=, post-office order. =pp.=, pages. =p.p.=, parish-priest. =p.p.c.=, (f. _pour prendre congé_, to take leave), put on calling cards to intimate leave-taking. =pr.= (l. _per_, by), by the. =pres.=, also =preses=, _pr[)e]s´-[)e]s_; president. =prof.=, professor. =pro tem.= (l. _pro tempore_), for the time being. =prox.= (l. _proximo_), next; of the next month. =p.s.=, (l. _post scriptum_), postscript. =p.t.=, post-town. =pxt.= (l. _pinxit_), he or she painted it. =q.= or =qu.=, question; query. =q.c.=, queen's counsel; queen's college. =q.e.= (l. _quod est_), which is. =q e.d.= (l. _quod erat demonstrandum_), which was to be demonstrated. =q.e.f.= (l. _quod erat faciendum_), which was to be done. =q.e.i.= (l. _quod erat inveniendum_), which was to be found out. =q.l.= (l. _quantum libet_), as much as you please. =q.m.g.=, quartermaster-general. =qr.=, quarter; quire: =qrs=., quarters. =qt.=, quart: =qts.=, quarts. =q.v.= (l. _quod vide_), which see. =r.=, l. _rex_, king; _regina_, queen. =r.=, l. _recipe_, take. =r.a.=, royal academy, or academician; royal artillery; rear-admiral; right ascension. =r.c.=, roman catholic. =ref. ch.=, reformed church. =reg. prof.=, regius professor. =r.i.p.= (l.), requiescat in pace. =r.rev.=, right reverend. =r.s.a.=, royal society of antiquaries; royal scottish academy. =r.s.s.= (l. _regiæ societatis socius_), fellow of the royal society. =rt.=, right. =s.=, south. =s.a.=, south america; south africa; south australia. =sarum=, salisbury. =s.a.s.= (l. _societatis antiquariorum socius_), fellow of the society of antiquaries. =s. caps.=, small capital letters. =sc.= or =sculp.= (l. _sculpsit_), he or she engraved it. =s.= or =scil.= (l. _scilicet_), to wit; namely. =scr.=, scruple. =sculp.= or =sculpt.= (l. _sculpsit_), he or she engraved it. =s.e.=, south-east. =sec.=, secretary; second. =sep.= or =sept.=, septuagint; also lxx. =seq.= (l. _sequentes_ or _sequentia_), the following; the next. =s.g.=, solicitor-general. =s.h.s.= (_societatis historiæ socius_), fellow of the historical society. =s.j.=, society of jesus. =s.l.=, solicitor-at-law. =sol.-gen.=, solicitor-general. =s.p.c.k.=, society for promoting christian knowledge. =s.p.g.=, society for the propagation of the gospel. =sq.=, square: =sq. ft.=, square feet: =sq. in.=, square inches: =sq. m.=, square miles: =sq. yds.=, square yards. =s.r.i.= (l. _sacrum romanum imperium_), the holy roman empire. =s.s.=, steamship. =s.s.e.=, south-south-east. =s.s.w.=, south-south-west. =s.t.p.= (l. _sacræ theologia professor_), professor of theology. =super.=, superfine. =supp.=, supplement. =s.w.=, south-west. =syn.=, synonym; synonymous. =t.o.=, turn over. =tr.= or =trs=., transpose. =u.c.=, upper canada; (l. _urbe condita_, the founding of the city), the year of rome. =univ.=, university. =u.p.=, united presbyterian. =u.s.=, united states. =v.g.= (l. _verbi gratiâ_), for example. =vid.= (l. _vide_), see. =viz.= (a corruption of l. _videlicet_), namely; to wit. =vol.=, volume: =vols.=, volumes. =v.p.=, vice-president. =vul.=, vulgate. =w.=, west; western. =winton=, winchester. =w. long.=, west longitude. =w.m.s.=, wesleyan missionary society. =w.n.w.=, west-north-west. =w.s.w.=, west-south-west. =wt.=, weight. =x.= or =xt.=, christ: =xm.= or =xmas.=, christmas: =xn.= or =xtian.=, christian. =yd.=, yard: =yds.=, yards. the end. * * * * * .-- . g. w. carleton & co. new books and new editions, recently issued by g. w. carleton & co., publishers, madison square, new york. the publishers, on receipt of price, send any book on this catalogue by mail, _postage free_. all handsomely bound in cloth, with gilt backs suitable for libraries. =mary j. holmes' works.= tempest and sunshine $ english orphans homestead on the hillside 'lena rivers meadow brook dora deane cousin maude marian grey edith lyle daisy thornton chateau d´or (new) darkness and daylight hugh worthington cameron pride rose mather ethelyn's mistake millbank edna browning west lawn mildred forrest house madeline (new) =marion harland's works.= alone $ hidden path moss side nemesis miriam at last helen gardner true as steel (new) sunnybank husbands and homes ruby's husband phemie's temptation the empty heart jessamine from my youth up my little love =charles dickens-- vols.--"carleton's edition."= pickwick and catalogue $ dombey and son bleak house martin chuzzlewit barnaby rudge--edwin drood. child's. england--miscellaneous christmas books--two cities david copperfield nicholas nickleby little dorrit. our mutual friend curiosity shop--miscellaneous sketches by boz--hard times great expectations--italy oliver twist--uncommercial sets of dickens' complete works, in vols.--[elegant half calf bindings] =augusta j. evans' novels.= beulah $ macaria ines st. elmo $ vashti infelice (new) =may agnes fleming's novels.= guy earlscourt's wife $ a wonderful woman a terrible secret a mad marriage norine's revenge one night's mystery kate danton silent and true heir of charlton carried by storm lost for a woman a wife's tragedy a changed heart pride and passion sharing her crime (new) =allan pinkerton's works.= expressmen and detectives $ mollie maguires and detectives somnambulists and detectives claude melnotte and detectives criminal reminiscences, etc. rail-road forger, etc. bank robbers and detectives gypsies and detectives spiritualists and detectives model town and detectives strikers, communists, etc. mississippi outlaws, etc. bucholz and detectives =bertha clay's novels.= thrown on the world $ a bitter atonement love works wonders evelyn's folly under a shadow (new) a woman's temptation repented at leisure between two loves lady damer's secret a struggle for a ring (new) ="new york weekly" series.= brownie's triumph--sheldon $ the forsaken bride. do. earle wayne's nobility. do. a new book. do. his other wife--ashleigh curse of everleigh--pierce peerless cathleen--agnew faithful margaret--ashmore nick whiffles--robinson grinder papers--dallas lady leonora--conklin =miriam coles harris' novels.= rutledge $ frank warrington louie's last term, st. mary's a perfect adonis missy (new) the sutherlands st. philips round hearts for children richard vandermarck happy-go-lucky =a. s. roe's select stories.= true to the last $ the star and the cloud how could he help it? a long look ahead i've been thinking to love and to be loved =julie p. smith's novels.= widow goldsmith's daughter $ chris and otho ten old maids his young wife lucy (new) the widower the married belle courting and farming kiss and be friends =artemas ward.= complete comic writings--with biography, portrait and illustrations $ =the game of whist.= pole on whist--the english standard work. with the "portland rules" $ =victor hugo's great novel.= les miserables--translated from the french. the only complete edition $ =mrs. hill's cook book.= mrs. a. p. hill's new southern cookery book, and domestic receipts $ =carleton's popular quotations.= carleton's new hand-book--familiar quotations, with their authorship $ carleton's classical dictionary--condensed mythology for popular use =celia e. gardner's novels.= stolen waters. (in verse) $ broken dreams. do. compensation. do. a twisted skein. do. tested rich medway a woman's wiles terrace roses ="new york weekly" series.= thrown on the world. $ a bitter atonement. love works wonders. evelyn's folly. lady damer's secret. a woman's temptation. repented at leisure. between two loves. peerless cathleen. brownie's triumph. the forsaken bride. his other wife. nick whiffles. lady leonore. the grinder papers. faithful margaret. curse of everleigh. =artemas ward.= complete comic writings--with biography, portrait, and illustrations. $ =charles dickens.= dickens' parlor table album of illustrations--with descriptive text. $ =m. m. pomeroy= ("=brick="). sense. a serious book. $ gold dust.--do. our saturday nights. nonsense. (a comic book). brick-dust.--do. home harmonies. =ernest renan's french works.= the life of jesus. translated. $ lives of the apostles.--do. the life of st. paul. translated. the bible in india--by jacolliot. =g. w. carleton.= our artist in cuba, peru, spain, and algiers-- caricatures of travel. $ =miscellaneous publications.= the children's fairy geography--with hundreds of beautiful illustrations. $ hawk-eyes--a comic book by "the burlington hawkeye man." illustrated. among the thorns--a new novel by mrs. mary lowe dickinson. our daughters--a talk with mothers, by marion harland, author of "alone," redbirds christmas story--an illustrated juvenile. by mary j. holmes. carleton's popular readings--edited by mrs. anna randall diehl. the culprit fay--joseph rodman drake's poem. with illustrations. l'assommoir--english translation from zola's famous french novel. parlor amusements--games, tricks, and home amusements, by f. bellew. love [l'amour]--translation from michelet's famous french work. woman [la femme].--do.--do.--do. verdant green--a racy english college story. with comic illustrations. solid for mulhooly--the sharpest political satire of the day. a northern governess at the sunny south--by professor j. h. ingraham. laus veneris, and other poems--by algernon charles swinburne. birds of a feather flock together--by edward a. sothern, the actor. beatrice cenci--from the italian novel, with guido's celebrated portrait. morning glories--a charming collection of children's stories. by louisa alcot. some women of to-day--a novel by mrs. dr. wm. h. white. from new york to san francisco--by mrs. frank leslie. illustrated. why wife and i quarreled--a poem by author "betsey and i are out." west india pickles--a yacht cruise in the tropics. by w. p. talboys. threading my way--the autobiography of robert dale owen. debatable land between this world and next--robert dale owen. lights and shadows of spiritualism--by d. d. home, the medium. yachtman's primer--instructions for amateur sailors. by warren. the fall of man--a darwinian satire, by author of "new gospel of peace." the chronicles of gotham--a new york satire.--do.--do. tales from the operas--a collection of stories based upon the opera plots. ladies and gentlemen's etiquette book of the best fashionable society. self culture in conversation, letter-writing, and oratory. love and marriage--a book for young people. by frederick saunders. under the rose--a capital book, by the author of "east lynne," so dear a dream--a novel by miss grant, author of "the sun maid". give me thine heart--a capital new love story by roe. meeting her fate--a charming novel by the author of "aurora floyd". the new york cook-book--book of domestic receipts. by mrs. astor. =miscellaneous works.= dawn to noon--by violet fane $ constance's fate--do. french love songs--translated a bad boy's first reader lion jack--by p. t. barnum jack in the jungle--do. cats, cooks, etc--by edw. t. ely drumming as a fine art how to win in wall street the life of sarah bernhardt arctic travels--isaac i. hayes college tramps--fred. a. stokes gospels in poetry--e. h. kimball me--by mrs. spencer w. coe n.y. to san francisco--leslie don quixote--illustrated $ arabian nights--do. robinson crusoe--do swiss family robinson--illus. debatable land--r. dale owen threading my way.--do. spiritualism--by d. d. home fanny fern memorials orpheus c. kerr-- vols. in one northern ballads--e. l. anderson offenbach's tour in america stories about doctors--jeffreson stories about lawyers--do. mrs. spriggins.--by widow bedott how to make money--davies =miscellaneous novels.= doctor antonio--by ruffini $ beatrice cenci--from the italian madame--by frank lee benedict a late remorse--do. hammer and anvil--do. her friend laurence--do. prairie flower--emerson bennett among the thorns--dickinson women of to-day--mrs. w.h. white braxton's bar--r. m. daggett miss beck--tilbury holt sub rosa--chas. t. murray hilda and i--e. bedell benjamin a college widow--c. h. seymour old m'sieur's secret--translation petticoats and slippers shiftless folks--fannie smith peace pelican.--do. price of a life--r. forbes sturgis hidden power--t. h. tibbles two brides--bernard o'reilly sorry her lot--miss grant two of us--calista halsey cupid on crutches--a. b. wood parson thorne--e. m. buckingham marston hall--l. ella byrd ange--florence marryatt errors--ruth carter unmistakable flirtation--garner wild oats--florence marryatt widow cherry--b. l. farjeon solomon isaacs.--do. edith murray--joanna mathews doctor mortimer--fannie bean outwitted at last--s. a. gardner vesta vane--l. king, r. louise and i--c. r. dodge my queen--by sandette fallen among thieves--rayne san miniato--mrs. hamilton all for her--a tale of new york all for him--author "all for her" for each other.--do. the baroness--joaquin miller one fair woman.--do. saint leger--richard b. kimball $ was he successful?--do. undercurrents of wall st.--do. romance of student life.--do. to-day.--do. life in san domingo.--do. henry powers, banker.--do. led astray--octave feuillet she loved him madly--borys thick and thin--mery so fair yet false--chavette a fatal passion--c. bernard a woman's case--bessie turner marguerite's journal--for girls rose of memphis--w. c. falkner spell-bound--alexandre dumas heart's delight--mrs. alderdice another man's wife--mrs. hartt purple and fine linen--fawcett pauline's trial--l. d. courtney the forgiving kiss--m. loth flirtation--a west point novel loyal unto death that awful boy that bridget of ours phemie frost--ann s. stephens charette--an american novel fairfax--john esten cooke hilt to hilt.--do. out of the foam.--do. hammer and rapier.--do. warwick--by m. t. walworth lulu.--do. hotspur--do. stormcliff.--do. delaplaine.--do. beverly.--do. kenneth--sallie a. brock heart hungry--westmoreland clifford troupe.--do. silcott mill--maria d. deslonde john maribel.--do. conquered--by a new author janet--an english novel tales from the popular operas * * * * * popular new books. _"new york weekly" series._ messrs. street & smith, publishers of _the new york weekly_, having been requested by their readers to issue their best and most popular stories in book form, have consented, and have now made arrangements for such publications with the well-known new york house of g. w. carleton & co., publishers. the intention is to issue in book form such novels, stories, humorous writings, etc., as have run through the _the new york weekly_, and have proved to be the most popular. thus the millions of _new york weekly_ readers, who have been particularly pleased and delighted with certain stories in the paper, and who would like to have them in book form for preservation and re-reading, will have an opportunity to buy such works, and gradually form a beautiful library of choice books, the very cream of the contributions to _the new york weekly_. _the volumes already published are as follows:_ =thrown on the world.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =peerless cathleen.=--a novel, by cora agnew. =faithful margaret.=--a novel, by annie ashmore. =nick whiffles.=--a novel, by dr. j. h. robinson. =lady leonora.=--a novel, by carrie conklin. =charity grinder papers.=--by mary kyle dallas. =a bitter atonement.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =curse of everleigh.=--by helen corwin pierce. =love works wonders.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =evelyn's folly.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =lady damer's secret.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =a woman's temptation.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =brownie's triumph.=--a novel, by mrs. georgie sheldon. =repented at leisure.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =forsaken bride.=--a novel, by mrs. georgie sheldon. =between two loves.=--a novel, by bertha m. clay. =his other wife.=--a novel, by rose ashleigh. ==>these books are handsomely printed, and elegantly bound in cloth, with gold back stamps, price, $ . each. ==>sold by booksellers everywhere--and sent by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of price. $ . , by =g. w. carleton & co., publishers, madison square, new york.= * * * * * mrs. mary j. holmes' works. tempest and sunshine. english orphans. homestead on hillside. 'lena rivers. meadow brook. dora deane. cousin maude. marian grey. edith lyle. daisy thornton. (_new_). darkness and daylight. hugh worthington. cameron pride rose mather. ethelyn's mistake. millbank. edna browning. west lawn. mildred. forrest house. (_new_). opinions of the press. "mrs. holmes' stories are universally read. her admirers are numberless. she is in many respects without a rival in the world of fiction. her characters are always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same motives which are common among men and women of every day existence. mrs. holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. old and young peruse her stories with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend."--_new york weekly._ =the north american review=, vol. , page , says of mrs. mary j. holmes' novel, "english orphans":--"with this novel of mrs. holmes' we have been charmed, and so have a pretty numerous circle of discriminating readers to whom we have lent it. the characterization is exquisite, especially so far as concerns rural and village life, of which there are some pictures that deserve to be hung up in perpetual memory of types of humanity fast becoming extinct. the dialogues are generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. the plot seems simple, so easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. moreover, the story thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without obtruding, not only pure christian morality in general, but, with especial point and power, the dependence of true success on character, and of true respectability on merit." "mrs. holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest, therefore, is not so intense as if they were more highly seasoned with sensationalism, but it is of a healthy and abiding character. almost any new book which her publisher might choose to announce from her pen would get an immediate and general reading. the interest in her tales begins at once, and is maintained to the close. her sentiments are so sound, her sympathies so warm and ready, and her knowledge of manners, character, and the varied incidents of ordinary life is so thorough, that she would find it difficult to write any other than an excellent tale if she were to try it."--_boston banner._ ==>the volumes are all handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, and sent by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of price [$ . each], by g. w. carleton & co., publishers, _madison square, new york._ * * * * * a valuable new book _that should be on every scholar's table._ carleton's hand-book of popular quotations. a book of _ready reference_ for such phrases, extracts and familiar quotations from popular authors, as are oftenest met with in general literature; together with their authorship and position in the original. embracing, also, the best list of quotations from foreign languages ever published. elegantly printed and bound. price, $ . . if you want to _find_ any familiar quotation, appropriate to any particular subject or sentiment--this book will give it to you. if you want to know who is the author, and _where_ any particular familiar quotation comes from--this book will tell you. if you remember _part_ of a familiar quotation and want to know the whole of it, and know it _exactly_--this book will tell you. if you want to know the exact meaning and correctness of any latin, french or familiar quotation, in any _foreign language_--this book will tell you. if you simply want a delightful book to have lying upon your table, convenient to pick up and entertain you with charming and familiar thoughts and quotations of all authors--this is the book that will exactly suit you. *** there's none more fascinating in the english language. *** the demand for this remarkable work is enormous. the publishers can hardly print them fast enough. they are for sale by every bookseller, and will be sent by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of, the price, $ . , by g. w. carleton & co., publishers, _madison square, new york._ charles dickens' works. a new edition. among the many editions of the works of this greatest of english novelists, there has not been until _now_ one that entirely satisfies the public demand.--without exception, they each have some strong distinctive objection,--either the form and dimensions of the volumes are unhandy--or, the type is small and indistinct--or, the illustrations are unsatisfactory--or, the binding is poor--or, the price is too high. an entirely new edition is _now_, however, published by g. w. carleton & co., of new york, which, in every respect, completely satisfies the popular demand.--it is known as "=carleton's new illustrated edition.=" complete in volumes. the size and form is most convenient for holding,--the type is entirely new, and of a clear and open character that has received the approval of the reading community in other works. the illustrations are by the original artists chosen by charles dickens himself--and the paper, printing, and binding are of an attractive and substantial character. this beautiful new edition is complete in volumes--at the extremely reasonable price of $ . per volume, as follows:-- .--pickwick papers and catalogue. .--oliver twist.--uncommercial traveller. .--david copperfield. .--great expectations.--italy and america. .--dombey and son. .--barnaby rudge and edwin drood. .--nicholas nickleby. .--curiosity shop and miscellaneous. .--bleak house. .--little dorrit. .--martin chuzzlewit. .--our mutual friend. .--christmas books.--tale of two cities. .--sketches by boz and hard times. .--child's england and miscellaneous. the first volume--pickwick papers--contains an alphabetical catalogue of all of charles dickens' writings, with their exact positions in the volumes. this edition is sold by booksellers, everywhere--and single specimen copies will be forwarded by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of price, $ . , by g. w. carleton & co., publishers, madison square, new york. * * * * * typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: hercules was the son of jupiter and almena.=> hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. {pg } pelops and and hippodamia=> pelops and hippodamia {pg } mathemathics=> mathematics {pg } asissted=> assisted {pg } briqing the charioteer=> bribing the charioteer {pg } ane minerva=> and minerva {pg }